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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/12050-0.txt b/12050-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e83dc65 --- /dev/null +++ b/12050-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,16789 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12050 *** + +DR. JOHNSON'S WORKS. + + + +THE + +ADVENTURER AND IDLER. + + + +THE + +WORKS + +OF + +SAMUEL JOHNSON, LL.D. + +IN NINE VOLUMES. + +VOLUME THE FOURTH. + + +MDCCCXXV. + + + +PREFATORY NOTICE + +TO + +THE ADVENTURER. + +The Adventurer was projected in the year 1752, by Dr. John Hawkesworth. +He was partly induced to undertake the work by his admiration of the +Rambler, which had now ceased to appear, the style and sentiments of +which evidently, from his commencement, he made the models of his +imitation. + +The first number was published on the seventh of November, 1752. The +quantity and price were the same as the Rambler, and also the days of +its appearance. He was joined in his labours by Dr. Johnson in 1753, +whose first paper is dated March 3, of that year; and after its +publication Johnson applied to his friend, Dr. Joseph Warton, for his +assistance, which was afforded: and the writers then were, besides the +projector Dr. Hawkesworth, Dr. Johnson, Dr. Joseph Warton, Dr. Bathurst, +Colman, Mrs. Chapone and the Hon. Hamilton Boyle, the accomplished son +of Lord Orrery [1]. + +Our business, however, in the present pages, does not lie with the +Adventurer in general, but only with Dr. Johnson's contributions; which +amount to the number of twenty-nine, beginning with No. 34, and ending +with No. 138. + +Much criticism has been employed in appropriating some of them, and the +carelessness of editors has overlooked several that have been +satisfactorily proved to be Johnson's own[2]. + +Mr. Boswell relies on internal evidence, which is unnecessary, since in +Dr. Warton's copy (and his authority on the subject will scarcely be +disputed) the following remark was found at the end: "The papers marked +T were written by Mr. S. Johnson." Mrs. Anna Williams asserted that he +dictated most of these to Dr. Bathurst, to whom he presented the +profits. The anecdote may well be believed from the usual benevolence of +Johnson and his well-known attachment to that amiable physician, whose +professional knowledge might undoubtedly have enabled him to offer hints +to Johnson in the progress of composition. Thus we may account for the +references to recondite medical writers in No. 39, which so staggered +Boswell and Malone in pronouncing on the genuineness of this paper. +Those who are familiar with Johnson's writings can have little +hesitation, we conceive, in recognising his style, and manner, and +sentiments in those papers which are now published under his name. They +may be considered as a continuation of the Rambler. The same subjects +are discussed; the interests of literature and of literary men, the +emptiness of praise and the vanity of human wishes. The same intimate +knowledge, of the town and its manners is displayed[3]; and occasionally +we are amused with humorous delineation of adventure and of +character[4]. + +From the greater variety of its subjects, aided, perhaps, by a growing +taste for periodical literature, the sale of the Adventurer was greater +than that of the Rambler on its first appearance. But still there were +those, who "talked of it as a catch-penny performance, carried on by a +set of needy and obscure scribblers[5]." So slowly is a national taste +for letters diffused, and so hardly do works of sterling merit, which +deal not in party-politics, nor exemplify their ethical discussions by +holding out living characters to censure or contempt, win the applause +of those, whose passions leave them no leisure for abstracted truth, and +whom virtue itself cannot please by its naked dignity. But, by such, +Johnson professed, that he had little expectation of his writings being +perused. Keeping then our main object more immediately in view, the +elucidation of Johnson's real character and motives, we cannot but +admire the prompt benevolence, with which he joined Hawkesworth in his +task, and the ready zeal, with which he embraced any opportunity of +promoting the interests of morality and virtue. "To a benevolent +disposition every state of life will afford some opportunities of +contributing to the welfare of mankind," is the characteristic opening +of his first Adventurer. And when we have admired the real excellence of +his heart, we must wonder at the vigour of a mind, which could so +abstract itself from its own sorrows and misfortunes, which too often +deaden our feelings of pity, as to sympathize with others in affliction, +and even to promote innocent cheerfulness. Bowed down by the loss of a +wife[6], on whom he had called from amidst the horrors of a hopeless +melancholy, to "hide him from the ills of life," and depressed by +poverty, "that numbs the soul with icy hand," his genius sank not +beneath a load, which might have crushed the loftiest; but the +"incumbrances of his fortune were shaken from his mind, 'as dew-drops +from a lion's mane[7].'" + +The same pure and exalted morality, which stamps their chief value on +the pages of the Rambler, instructs us in the lessons of the Adventurer. +Here is no cold doctrine of expediency or dangerous speculations on +moral approbation, no easy virtue which can be practised without a +struggle, and which interdicts the gratification of no passion but +malice: here is no compromise of personal sensuality, for an endurance +of others' frailties, amounting to an indifference of moral distinctions +altogether. Johnson boldly and, at once, propounds the real motives to +Christian conduct; and does not, with some ethical writers, in a slavish +dread of interfering with the more immediate office of the divine, hold +out slender inducements to virtuous action, which can never give us +strength to stem the torrent of passion; but holding with the acute Owen +Feltham[8], "that, as true religion cannot be without morality, no more +can morality, that is right, be without religion," Johnson ever directs +our attention, not to the world's smile or frown, but to the discharge +of the duty which Providence assigns us, by the consideration of the +awful approach of that night when no man can work. To conclude with the +appropriate words of an eloquent writer, "in his sublime discussions of +the most sacred truths, as no style can be too lofty nor conceptions too +grand for such a subject, so has the great master never exerted the +powers of his great genius with more signal success. Impiety shrinks +beneath his rebuke; the atheist trembles and repents; the dying sinner +catches a gleam of revealed hope; and all acknowledge the just +dispensations of eternal Wisdom[9]." + +FOOTNOTES: + +[1] For the general history of the Adventurer, the reader may be + referred to Chalmers' British Essayists, xxiii, Dr. Drake's Essays + on Rambler, Adventurer, &c. ii, and Boswell's Journal, 3rd edit. p. + 240. + +[2] Five of these, Nos. 39, 67, 74, 81, and 128, which Sir John Hawkins + omitted to arrange among the writings of Johnson, are given in this + edition. + +[3] See particularly the Letters of Misagargyrus. + +[4] The description in No. 84, of the incidents of a stage-coach + journey, so often imitated by succeeding writers, but, perhaps, + never surpassed, will exemplify the above remark. + +[5] See Lounger, No. 30. + +[6] "I have heard, he means to occasionally throw some papers into the + Daily Advertiser; but he has not begun yet, as he is in great + affliction, I fear, poor man, for the loss of his wife."--Letter + from Miss Talbot to Mrs. Carter. Mrs. Johnson died March 17, 1752. + +[7] See the Preface to Shakespeare. + +[8] Owen Feltham's Resolves. + +[9] Indian Observer, No. 1, 1793. See likewise Adventurers, Nos. 120, + 126, 128. + + + + +PREFATORY NOTICE + +TO + +THE IDLER. + + +The Idler may be ranked among the best attempts which have been made to +render our common newspapers the medium of rational amusement; and it +maintained its ground in this character longer than any of the papers +which have been brought forward by Colman and others on the same +plan[1]. Dr. Johnson first inserted this production in the Universal +Chronicle, or Weekly Gazette, April 15, 1758, four years after he had +desisted from his labours as an essayist. It would seem probable, that +Newbery, the publisher of the Chronicle, projected it as a vehicle for +Johnson's essays, since it ceased to appear when its pages were no +longer enlivened by the humour of the Idler. + +It is well known, that Johnson was not "built of the press and pen[2]" +when he composed the Rambler; but his sphere of observation had been +much enlarged since its publication, and his more ample means no longer +suffered his genius to be "limited by the narrow conversation, to which +men in want are inevitably condemned[3]." "The sublime philosophy of the +Rambler cannot properly be said to have portrayed the manners of the +times; it has seldom touched on subjects so transient and fugitive, but +has displayed the more fixed and invariable operations of the human +heart[4]." But the Idler breathes more of a worldly spirit, and savours +less of the closet than Johnson's earlier essays; and, accordingly, we +find delineated in its diversified pages the manners and characters of +the day in amusing variety and contrast. + +Written professedly for a paper of miscellaneous intelligence, the Idler +dwells on the passing incidents of the day, whether serious or light[5], +and abounds with party and political allusion. Johnson ever surveyed +mankind with the eye of a philosopher; but his own easier circumstances +would now present the world's aspect to him in brighter, fairer colours. +Besides, he could, with more propriety and less risk of misapprehension, +venture to trifle now, than when first he addressed the public. + +The World[6] had diffused its precepts, and corrected the fluctuating +manners of fashion, in the tone of fashionable raillery; and the +Connoisseur[7], by its gay and sparkling effusions, had forwarded the +advance of the public mind to that last stage of intellectual +refinement, in which alone a relish exists for delicate and half latent +irony. The plain and literal citizens of an earlier period, who conned +over what was "so nominated in the bend," would have misapprehended that +graceful playfulness of satire, elegant and fanciful as ever charmed the +leisure of the literary loungers of Athens. For, in the writings of +Bonnel Thornton and Colman, the philosophy of Aristippus may indeed be +said to be revived[8]. We would not, however, be supposed, by these +allusions, to imply that all the papers of the Idler are light and +sportive; or that Johnson for a moment lost sight of a grand moral end +in all his discussions. His mind only accommodated itself to the +circumstances in which it was placed, and diligently sought to avail +itself of each varying opportunity to admonish and to benefit, whether +from the chair of philosophic reproof or in the cheerful, social circle. +Whatever faults have been charged upon the Idler may be traced, we +conceive, to this source. Nobody at times, said Johnson, talks more +laxly than I do[9]. And this acknowledged propensity may well be +presumed to have affected the humorous and almost conversational tone of +the work before us. In the conscious pride of mental might and in the +easier moments of conversations, that illuminated the minds of +Reynolds[10] and of Burke, Johnson delighted to indulge in a lively +sophistry which might sometimes deceive himself, when at first he merely +wished to sport in elegant raillery or ludicrous paradox. When these +sallies were recorded and brought to bear against him on future +occasions, irritated at their misconstruction and conscious to himself +of an upright intention, or at most of only a wish to promote innocent +cheerfulness, he was too stubborn in retracting what he had thus +advanced. Hence, when menaced with a prosecution for his definition of +Excise in his Dictionary, so far from offering apology or promising +alteration, he called, in his Idler, a Commissioner of Excise the lowest +of human beings, and classes him with the scribbler for a party[11]. So +strange a definition and still less pardonable adherence to it can only +be justified on the ground of Johnson's warm feelings for the comfort of +the middle class of society. He knew that the execution of the excise +laws involved an intrusion into the privacies of domestic life, and +often violated the fireside of the unoffending and quiet tradesman. He, +therefore, disliked those laws altogether, and his warm-hearted +disposition would not allow him to calculate on their abstract +advantages with modern political economists, who, in their generalizing +doctrines, too frequently overlook individual comfort and interests. His +remarks, in the same paper, on the edition of the Pleas of the Crown +cannot be thus vindicated, and we must here lament an error in an +otherwise honest and well-intentioned mind[12]. Every impartial reader +of his works may thus easily trace to their origin Johnson's chief +political errors, and his research must terminate in admiration of a +writer, who never prostituted his pen to fear or favour; and who, though +erroneous often in his estimate of men and measures, still, in his +support of a party, firmly believed himself to be the advocate of +morality and right. His tenderness of spirit, his firm principles and +his deep sense of the emptiness of human pursuits are visible amidst the +lighter papers of the Idler, and his serious reflections are, perhaps, +more strikingly affecting as contrasted with mirthfulness and +pleasantry. + +His concluding paper and the one[13] on the death of his mother have, +perhaps, never been surpassed. Here is no affectation of sentimentality, +no morbid and puling complaints, but the dignified and chastened +expression of sorrow, which a mind, constituted as Johnson's, must have +experienced on the departure of a mother. A heart, tender and +susceptible of pathetic emotion, as his was, must have deeply felt, how +dreary it is to walk downward to the grave unregarded by her "who has +looked on our childhood." Occasions for more violent and perturbed grief +may occur to us in our passage through life, but the gentle, quiet death +of a mother speaks to us with "still small voice" of our wasting years, +and breaks completely and, at once, our earliest and most cherished +associations. This tenderness of spirit seems ever to have actuated +Johnson, and he is surely greatest when he breathes it forth over the +sorrows and miseries of man. Even in his humorous papers, he never +wounds feeling for the sake of raising a laugh, nor sports with folly, +but in the hope of reclaiming the vicious and with the design of warning +the young of the delusion and danger of an example, which can only be +imitated by the forfeiture of virtue and the practice of vice. "In +whatever he undertook, it was his determined purpose to rectify the +heart, to purify the passions, to give ardour to virtue and confidence +to truth[14]." + +FOOTNOTES: + +[1] The Genius was published by Colman in the St. James's Chronicle, + 1761, 1762. The Gentleman, by the same author, came out in the + London-Packet, 1775. The Grumbler was the production of the + Antiquary Grose, and appeared in the English Chronicle, 1791. + +[2] Owen Feltham. + +[3] Preface to Shakespeare. + +[4] Country Spectator, No. 1. + +[5] Idler, No. 6. + +[6] The World was published in 1753. + +[7] The Connoisseur appeared in 1754. + +[8] See Dr. Drake's Essays, II. + +[9] Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides. + +[10] See life of Sir Joshua Reynolds, prefixed to his Works by Malone, + i. 28, &c. + +[11] See Idler, No. 65 and Mr. Chalmers' Preface to vol. 33 of the + British Essayists. + +[12] See Gentleman's Magazine 1706. p. 272. + +[13] Idler, No. 41. + +[14] See Pursuits of Literature, Dialogue I. note. + + + + + +CONTENTS OF THE FOURTH VOLUME. + + +THE ADVENTURER. + + +34. Folly of extravagance. The story of Misargyrus + +39. On sleep + +41. Sequel of the story of Misargyrus + +45. The difficulty of forming confederacies + +50. On lying + +53. Misargyrus' account of his companions in the Fleet + +58. Presumption of modern criticism censured. Ancient poetry necessarily + obscure. Examples from Horace + +62. Misargyrus' account of his companions concluded + +67. On the trades of London + +69. Idle hope + +74. Apology for neglecting officious advice + +81. Incitement to enterprise and emulation. Some account of the + admirable Crichton + +84. Folly of false pretences to importance. A journey in a stagecoach + +85. Study, composition, and converse equally necessary to intellectual + accomplishment + +92. Criticism on the Pastorals of Virgil + +95. Apology for apparent plagiarism. Sources of literary variety + +99. Projectors injudiciously censured and applauded + +102. Infelicities of retirement to men of business + +107. Different opinions equally plausible + +108. On the uncertainty of human things + +111. The pleasures and advantages of industry + +115. The itch of writing universal + +119. The folly of creating artificial wants + +120. The miseries of life + +126. Solitude not eligible + +128. Men differently employed unjustly censured by each other + +131. Singularities censured + +137. Writers not a useless generation + +138. Their happiness and infelicity + + + +THE IDLER. + +1. The Idler's character. + +2. Invitation to correspondents. + +3. Idler's reason for writing. + +4. Charities and hospitals. + +5. Proposal for a female army. + +6. Lady's performance on horseback. + +7. Scheme for news-writers. + +8. Plan of military discipline. + +9. Progress of idleness. + +10. Political credulity. + +11. Discourses on the weather. + +12. Marriages, why advertised. + +13. The imaginary housewife. + +14. Robbery of time. + +15. Treacle's complaint of his wife. + +16. Drugget's retirement. + +17. Expedients of idlers. + +18. Drugget vindicated. + +19. Whirler's character. + +20. Capture of Louisbourg. + +21. Linger's history of listlessness. + +22. Imprisonment of debtors. + +23. Uncertainty of friendship. + +24. Man does not always think. + +25. New actors on the stage. + +26. Betty Broom's history. + +27. Power of habits. + +28. Wedding-day. Grocer's wife. Chairman. + +29. Betty Broom's history continued. + +30. Corruption of news-writers. + +31. Disguises of idleness. Sober's character. + +32. On Sleep. + +33. Journal of a fellow of a college. + +34. Punch and conversation compared. + +35. Auction-hunter described and ridiculed. + +36. The terrific diction ridiculed. + +37. Useful things easy of attainment. + +38. Cruelty shown to debtors in prison. + +39. The various uses of the bracelet. + +40. The art of advertising exemplified. + +41. Serious reflections on the death of a friend. + +42. Perdita's complaint of her father. + +43. Monitions on the flight of time. + +44. The use of memory considered. + +45. On painting. Portraits defended. + +46. Molly Quick's complaint of her mistress. + +47. Deborah Ginger's account of city-wits. + +48. The bustle of idleness described and ridiculed. + +49. Marvel's journey narrated. + +50. Marvel's journey paralleled. + +51. Domestick greatness unattainable. + +52. Self-denial necessary. + +53. Mischiefs of good company. + +54. Mrs. Savecharges' complaint. + +55. Authors' mortifications. + +56. Virtuosos whimsical. + +57. Character of Sophron. + +58. Expectations of pleasure frustrated. + +59. Books fall into neglect. + +60. Minim the critic. + +61. Minim the critic. + +62. Hanger's account of the vanity of riches. + +63. Progress of arts and language. + +64. Ranger's complaint concluded. + +65. Fate of posthumous works. + +66. Loss of ancient writings. + +67. Scholar's journal. + +68. History of translation. + +69. History of translation. + +70. Hard words defended. + +71. Dick Shifter's rural excursion. + +72. Regulation of memory. + +73. Tranquil's use of riches. + +74. Memory rarely deficient. + +75. Gelaleddin of Bassora. + +76. False criticisms on painting. + +77. Easy writing. + +78. Steady, Snug, Startle, Solid and Misty. + +79. Grand style of painting. + +80. Ladies' journey to London. + +81. Indian's speech to his countrymen. + +82. The true idea of beauty. + +83. Scruple, Wormwood, Sturdy and Gentle. + +84. Biography, how best performed. + +85. Books multiplied by useless compilations. + +86. Miss Heartless' want of a lodging. + +87. Amazonian bravery revived. + +88. What have ye done? + +89. Physical evil moral good. + +90. Rhetorical action considered. + +91. Sufficiency of the English language. + +92. Nature of cunning. + +93. Sam Softly's history. + +94. Obstructions of learning. + +95. Tim Wainscot's son a fine gentleman. + +96. Hacho of Lapland. + +97. Narratives of travellers considered. + +98. Sophia Heedful. + +99. Ortogrul of Basra. + +100. The good sort of woman. + +101. Omar's plan of life. + +102. Authors inattentive to themselves. + +103. Honour of the last. + + + + + +THE + +ADVENTURER. + + + +No. 34. SATURDAY, MARCH 3, 1753. + + _Has toties optata exegit gloria pænas._ Juv. Sat. x. 187. + Such fate pursues the votaries of praise. + +TO THE ADVENTURER. + +SIR, + +Fleet Prison, Feb. 24. + +To a benevolent disposition, every state of life will afford some +opportunities of contributing to the welfare of mankind. Opulence and +splendour are enabled to dispel the cloud of adversity, to dry up the +tears of the widow and the orphan, and to increase the felicity of all +around them: their example will animate virtue, and retard the progress +of vice. And even indigence and obscurity, though without power to +confer happiness, may at least prevent misery, and apprize those who are +blinded by their passions, that they are on the brink of irremediable +calamity. Pleased, therefore, with the thought of recovering others from +that folly which has embittered my own days, I have presumed to address +the ADVENTURER from the dreary mansions of wretchedness and despair, of +which the gates are so wonderfully constructed, as to fly open for the +reception of strangers, though they are impervious as a rock of adamant +to such as are within them: + + --_Facilis descensus Averni: + Noctes utque dies patet atri janua Ditis: + Sed revocare gradum, superasque evadere ad auras, + Hoc opus, hic labor est_.--VIRG. Æn. vi. 126. + + The gates of hell are open night and day; + Smooth the descent, and easy is the way: + But to return and view the cheerful skies; + In this the task and mighty labour lies. DRYDEN. + +Suffer me to acquaint you, Sir, that I have glittered at the ball, and +sparkled in the circle; that I have had the happiness to be the unknown +favourite of an unknown lady at the masquerade, have been the delight of +tables of the first fashion, and envy of my brother beaux; and to +descend a little lower, it is, I believe, still remembered, that Messrs. +Velours and d'Espagne stand indebted for a great part of their present +influence at Guildhall, to the elegance of my shape, and the graceful +freedom of my carriage. + + --_Sed quæ præclara et prospera tanti, + Ut rebus lætis par sit mensura malorum_? Juv. Sat. x. 97. + + See the wild purchase of the bold and vain, + Where every bliss is bought with equal pain! + +As I entered into the world very young, with an elegant person and a +large estate, it was not long before I disentangled myself from the +shackles of religion; for I was determined to the pursuit of pleasure, +which according to my notions consisted in the unrestrained and +unlimited gratifications of every passion and every appetite; and as +this could not be obtained under the frowns of a perpetual dictator, I +considered religion as my enemy; and proceeding to treat her with +contempt and derision, was not a little delighted, that the +unfashionableness of her appearance, and the unanimated uniformity of +her motions, afforded frequent opportunities for the sallies of my +imagination. + +Conceiving now that I was sufficiently qualified to laugh away scruples, +I imparted my remarks to those among my female favourites, whose virtue +I intended to attack; for I was well assured, that pride would be able +to make but a weak defence, when religion was subverted; nor was my +success below my expectation: the love of pleasure is too strongly +implanted in the female breast, to suffer them scrupulously to examine +the validity of arguments designed to weaken restraint; all are easily +led to believe, that whatever thwarts their inclination must be wrong: +little more, therefore, was required, than by the addition of some +circumstances, and the exaggeration of others, to make merriment supply +the place of demonstration; nor was I so senseless as to offer arguments +to such as could not attend to them, and with whom a repartee or catch +would more effectually answer the same purpose. This being effected, +there remained only "the dread of the world:" but Roxana soared too +high, to think the opinion of others worthy her notice; Lætitia seemed +to think of it only to declare, that "if all her hairs were worlds," she +should reckon them "well lost for love;" and Pastorella fondly +conceived, that she could dwell for ever by the side of a bubbling +fountain, content with her swain and fleecy care; without considering +that stillness and solitude can afford satisfaction only to innocence. + +It is not the desire of new acquisitions, but the glory of conquests, +that fires the soldier's breast; as indeed the town is seldom worth +much, when it has suffered the devastations of a siege; so that though I +did not openly declare the effects of my own prowess, which is forbidden +by the laws of honour, it cannot be supposed that I was very solicitous +to bury my reputation, or to hinder accidental discoveries. To have +gained one victory, is an inducement to hazard a second engagement: and +though the success of the general should be a reason for increasing the +strength of the fortification, it becomes, with many, a pretence for an +immediate surrender, under the notion that no power is able to withstand +so formidable an adversary; while others brave the danger, and think it +mean to surrender, and dastardly to fly. Melissa, indeed, knew better; +and though she could not boast the apathy, steadiness, and inflexibility +of a Cato, wanted not the more prudent virtue of Scipio, and gained the +victory by declining the contest. + +You must not, however, imagine, that I was, during this state of +abandoned libertinism, so fully convinced of the fitness of my own +conduct, as to be free from uneasiness. I knew very well, that I might +justly be deemed the pest of society, and that such proceedings must +terminate in the destruction of my health and fortune; but to admit +thoughts of this kind was to live upon the rack: I fled, therefore, to +the regions of mirth and jollity, as they are called, and endeavoured +with Burgundy, and a continual rotation of company, to free myself from +the pangs of reflection. From these orgies we frequently sallied forth +in quest of adventures, to the no small terrour and consternation of all +the sober stragglers that came in our way: and though we never injured, +like our illustrious progenitors, the Mohocks, either life or limbs; yet +we have in the midst of Covent Garden buried a tailor, who had been +troublesome to some of our fine gentlemen, beneath a heap of +cabbage-leaves and stalks, with this conceit, + + _Satia te caule quem semper cupisti_. + + Glut yourself with cabbage, of which you have always been greedy. + +There can be no reason for mentioning the common exploits of breaking +windows and bruising the watch; unless it be to tell you of the device +of producing before the justice broken lanterns, which have been paid +for an hundred times; or their appearances with patches on their heads, +under pretence of being cut by the sword that was never drawn: nor need +I say any thing of the more formidable attack of sturdy chairmen, armed +with poles; by a slight stroke of which, the pride of Ned Revel's face +was at once laid flat, and that effected in an instant, which its most +mortal foe had for years assayed in vain. I shall pass over the +accidents that attended attempts to scale windows, and endeavours to +dislodge signs from their hooks: there are many "hair-breadth 'scapes," +besides those in the "imminent deadly breach;" but the rake's life, +though it be equally hazardous with that of the soldier, is neither +accompanied with present honour nor with pleasing retrospect; such is, +and such ought to be, the difference between the enemy and the preserver +of his country. + +Amidst such giddy and thoughtless extravagance, it will not seem +strange, that I was often the dupe of coarse flattery. When Mons. +L'Allonge assured me, that I thrust quart over arm better than any man +in England, what could I less than present him with a sword that cost me +thirty pieces? I was bound for a hundred pounds for Tom Trippet, because +he had declared that he would dance a minuet with any man in the three +kingdoms except myself. But I often parted with money against my +inclination, either because I wanted the resolution to refuse, or +dreaded the appellation of a niggardly fellow; and I may be truly said +to have squandered my estate, without honour, without friends, and +without pleasure. The last may, perhaps, appear strange to men +unacquainted with the masquerade of life: I deceived others, and I +endeavoured to deceive myself; and have worn the face of pleasantry and +gaiety, while my heart suffered the most exquisite torture. + +By the instigation and encouragement of my friends, I became at length +ambitious of a seat in parliament; and accordingly set out for the town +of Wallop in the west, where my arrival was welcomed by a thousand +throats, and I was in three days sure of a majority: but after drinking +out one hundred and fifty hogsheads of wine, and bribing two-thirds of +the corporation twice over, I had the mortification to find that the +borough had been before sold to Mr. Courtly. + +In a life of this kind, my fortune, though considerable, was presently +dissipated; and as the attraction grows more strong the nearer any body +approaches the earth, when once a man begins to sink into poverty, he +falls with velocity always increasing; every supply is purchased at a +higher and higher price, and every office of kindness obtained with +greater and greater difficulty. Having now acquainted you with my state +of elevation, I shall, if you encourage the continuance of my +correspondence, shew you by what steps I descended from a first floor in +Pall-Mall to my present habitation[1]. + +I am, Sir, + +Your humble servant, + +MISARGYRUS. + +[1] For an account of the disputes raised on this paper, and on the + other letters of Misargyrus, see Preface. + + + + +No. 39. TUESDAY, MARCH 20, 1753. + + --[Greek: Oduseus phulloisi kalupsato to d ar Athaenae + Hypnon ep ommasi cheu, ina min pauseie tachista + Dusponeos kamatoio.]--HOM. E. 491 + + --Pallas pour'd sweet slumbers on his soul; + And balmy dreams, the gift of soft repose, + Calm'd all his pains, and banish'd all his woes. POPE. + +If every day did not produce fresh instances of the ingratitude of +mankind, we might, perhaps, be at a loss, why so liberal and impartial a +benefactor as sleep, should meet with so few historians or panegyrists. +Writers are so totally absorbed by the business of the day, as never to +turn their attention to that power, whose officious hand so seasonably +suspends the burthen of life; and without whose interposition man would +not be able to endure the fatigue of labour, however rewarded, or the +struggle with opposition, however successful. + +Night, though she divides to many the longest part of life, and to +almost all the most innocent and happy, is yet unthankfully neglected, +except by those who pervert her gifts. + +The astronomers, indeed, expect her with impatience, and felicitate +themselves upon her arrival: Fontenelle has not failed to celebrate her +praises; and to chide the sun for hiding from his view the worlds, which +he imagines to appear in every constellation. Nor have the poets been +always deficient in her praises: Milton has observed of the night, that +it is "the pleasant time, the cool, the silent." + +These men may, indeed, well be expected to pay particular homage to +night; since they are indebted to her, not only for cessation of pain, +but increase of pleasure; not only for slumber, but for knowledge. But +the greater part of her avowed votaries are the sons of luxury; who +appropriate to festivity the hours designed for rest; who consider the +reign of pleasure as commencing when day begins to withdraw her busy +multitudes, and ceases to dissipate attention by intrusive and unwelcome +variety; who begin to awake to joy when the rest of the world sinks into +insensibility; and revel in the soft affluence of flattering and +artificial lights, which "more shadowy set off the face of things." + +Without touching upon the fatal consequences of a custom, which, as +Ramazzini observes, will be for ever condemned, and for ever retained; +it may be observed, that however sleep may be put off from time to time, +yet the demand is of so importunate a nature, as not to remain long +unsatisfied: and if, as some have done, we consider it as the tax of +life, we cannot but observe it as a tax that must be paid, unless we +could cease to be men; for Alexander declared, that nothing convinced +him that he was not a divinity, but his not being able to live without +sleep. + +To live without sleep in our present fluctuating state, however +desirable it might seem to the lady in Clelia, can surely be the wish +only of the young or the ignorant; to every one else, a perpetual vigil +will appear to be a state of wretchedness, second only to that of the +miserable beings, whom Swift has in his travels so elegantly described, +as "supremely cursed with immortality." + +Sleep is necessary to the happy to prevent satiety, and to endear life +by a short absence; and to the miserable, to relieve them by intervals +of quiet. Life is to most, such as could not be endured without frequent +intermission of existence: Homer, therefore, has thought it an office +worthy of the goddess of wisdom, to lay Ulysses asleep when landed on +Phaeacia. + +It is related of Barretier, whose early advances in literature scarce +any human mind has equalled, that he spent twelve hours of the +four-and-twenty in sleep: yet this appears from the bad state of his +health, and the shortness of his life, to have been too small a respite +for a mind so vigorously and intensely employed: it is to be regretted, +therefore, that he did not exercise his mind less, and his body more: +since by this means, it is highly probable, that though he would not then +have astonished with the blaze of a comet, he would yet have shone with +the permanent radiance of a fixed star. + +Nor should it be objected, that there have been many men who daily spend +fifteen or sixteen hours in study: for by some of whom this is reported +it has never been done; others have done it for a short time only; and +of the rest it appears, that they employed their minds in such +operations as required neither celerity nor strength, in the low +drudgery of collating copies, comparing authorities, digesting +dictionaries, or accumulating compilations. + +Men of study and imagination are frequently upbraided by the industrious +and plodding sons of care, with passing too great a part of their life +in a state of inaction. But these defiers of sleep seem not to remember +that though it must be granted them that they are crawling about before +the break of day, it can seldom be said that they are perfectly awake; +they exhaust no spirits, and require no repairs; but lie torpid as a +toad in marble, or at least are known to live only by an inert and +sluggish locomotive faculty, and may be said, like a wounded snake, to +"drag their slow length along." + +Man has been long known among philosophers by the appellation of the +microcosm, or epitome of the world: the resemblance between the great +and little world might, by a rational observer, be detailed to many +particulars; and to many more by a fanciful speculatist. I know not in +which of these two classes I shall be ranged for observing, that as the +total quantity of light and darkness allotted in the course of the year +to every region of the earth is the same, though distributed at various +times and in different portions; so, perhaps, to each individual of the +human species, nature has ordained the same quantity of wakefulness and +sleep; though divided by some into a total quiescence and vigorous +exertion of their faculties, and, blended by others in a kind of +twilight of existence, in a state between dreaming and reasoning, in +which they either think without action, or act without thought. + +The poets are generally well affected to sleep: as men who think with +vigour, they require respite from thought; and gladly resign themselves +to that gentle power, who not only bestows rest, but frequently leads +them to happier regions, where patrons are always kind, and audiences +are always candid; where they are feasted in the bowers of imagination, +and crowned with flowers divested of their prickles, and laurels of +unfading verdure. + +The more refined and penetrating part of mankind, who take wide surveys +of the wilds of life, who see the innumerable terrours and distresses +that are perpetually preying on the heart of man, and discern with +unhappy perspicuity, calamities yet latent in their causes, are glad to +close their eyes upon the gloomy prospect, and lose in a short +insensibility the remembrance of others' miseries and their own. The +hero has no higher hope, than that, after having routed legions after +legions, and added kingdom to kingdom, he shall retire to milder +happiness, and close his days in social festivity. The wit or the sage +can expect no greater happiness, than that, after having harassed his +reason in deep researches, and fatigued his fancy in boundless +excursions, he shall sink at night in the tranquillity of sleep. + +The poets, among all those that enjoy the blessings of sleep, have been +least ashamed to acknowledge their benefactor. How much Statius +considered the evils of life as assuaged and softened by the balm of +slumber, we may discover by that pathetick invocation, which he poured +out in his waking nights: and that Cowley, among the other felicities of +his darling solitude, did not forget to number the privilege of sleeping +without disturbance, we may learn from the rank that he assigns among +the gifts of nature to the poppy, "which is scattered," says he, "over +the fields of corn, that all the needs of man may be easily satisfied, +and that bread and sleep may be found together." + + Si quis invisum Cereri benignæ + Me putat germen, vehementer errat; + Illa me in partem recipit libenter + Fertilis agri. + + Meque frumentumque simul per omnes + Consulens mundo Dea spargit oras; + Crescite, O! dixit, duo magna sustentaculu + vitæ, + + Carpe, mortalis, mea dona lætus, + Carpe, nec plantas alias require, + Sed satur panis, satur et soporis, + Cætera sperue, + + He wildly errs who thinks I yield + Precedence in the well-cloth'd field, + Tho' mix'd with wheat I grow: + Indulgent Ceres knew my worth, + And to adorn the teeming earth, + She bade the Poppy blow. + + Nor vainly gay the sight to please, + But blest with pow'r mankind to ease, + The goddess saw me rise: + "Thrive with the life-supporting grain," + She cried, "the solace of the swain, + The cordial of his eyes. + + Seize, happy mortal, seize the good; + My hand supplies thy sleep and food, + And makes thee truly blest: + With plenteous meals enjoy the day, + In slumbers pass the night away, + And leave to fate the rest." C. B. + +Sleep, therefore, as the chief of all earthly blessings, is justly +appropriated to induustry and temperance; the refreshing rest, and the +peaceful night, are the portion only of him who lies down weary with +honest labour, and free from the fumes of indigested luxury; it is the +just doom of laziness and gluttony, to be inactive without ease, and +drowsy without tranquillity. + +Sleep has been often mentioned as the image of death[1]; "so like it," +says Sir Thomas Brown, "that I dare not trust it without my prayers:" +their resemblance is, indeed, apparent and striking; they both, when +they seize the body, leave the soul at liberty: and wise is he that +remembers of both, that they can be safe and happy only by virtue. + +[1] + Lovely sleep! thou beautiful image of terrible death, + Be thou my pillow-companion, my angel of rest! + Come, O sleep! for thine are the joys of living and dying: + Life without sorrow, and death with no anguish, no pain. + _From the German of Schmidt_ + + + + +No. 41. TUESDAY, MARCH 27, 1753. + + --_Si mutabile pectus + Est tibi, consiliis, non curribus, utere nostris; + Dum potes, et solidis etiamnum sedibus adstas, + Dumque male optatos nondum premis inscius axes._ OVID. Met. ii. 143. + + --Th' attempt forsake, + And not my chariot but my counsel take; + While yet securely on the earth you stand; + Nor touch the horses with too rash a hand. ADDISON. + +TO THE ADVENTURER. + +Sir, Fleet, March 24. + +I now send you the sequel of my story, which had not been so long +delayed, if I could have brought myself to imagine, that any real +impatience was felt for the fate of Misargyrus; who has travelled no +unbeaten track to misery, and consequently can present the reader only +with such incidents as occur in daily life. You have seen me, Sir, in +the zenith of my glory, not dispensing the kindly warmth of an +all-cheering sun: but, like another Phaeton, scorching and blasting +every thing round me. I shall proceed, therefore, to finish my career, +and pass as rapidly as possible through the remaining vicissitudes of my +life. + +When I first began to be in want of money, I made no doubt of an +immediate supply. The newspapers were perpetually offering directions to +men, who seemed to have no other business than to gather heaps of gold +for those who place their supreme felicity in scattering it. I posted +away, therefore, to one of these advertisers, who by his proposals +seemed to deal in thousands; and was not a little chagrined to find, +that this general benefactor would have nothing to do with any larger +sum than thirty pounds, nor would venture that without a joint note from +myself and a reputable housekeeper, or for a longer time than three +months. + +It was not yet so bad with me, as that I needed to solicit surety for +thirty pounds: yet partly from the greediness that extravagance always +produces, and partly from a desire of seeing the humour of a petty +usurer, a character of which I had hitherto lived in ignorance, I +condescended to listen to his terms. He proceeded to inform me of my +great felicity in not falling into the hands of an extortioner; and +assured me, that I should find him extremely moderate in his demands: he +was not, indeed, certain that he could furnish me with the whole sum, +for people were at this particular time extremely pressing and +importunate for money: yet, as I had the appearance of a gentleman, he +would try what he could do, and give me his answer in three days. + +At the expiration of the time, I called upon him again; and was again +informed of the great demand for money, and that, "money was money now:" +he then advised me to be punctual in my payment, as that might induce +him to befriend me hereafter; and delivered me the money, deducting at +the rate of five and thirty _per cent_. with another panegyrick upon his +own moderation. + +I will not tire you with the various practices of usurious oppression; +but cannot omit my transaction with Squeeze on Tower-hill, who, finding +me a young man of considerable expectations, employed an agent to +persuade me to borrow five hundred pounds, to be refunded by an annual +payment of twenty per cent_. during the joint lives of his daughter +Nancy Squeeze and myself. The negociator came prepared to enforce his +proposal with all his art; but, finding that I caught his offer with the +eagerness of necessity, he grew cold and languid; "he had mentioned it +out of kindness; he would try to serve me: Mr. Squeeze was an honest +man, but extremely cautious." In three days he came to tell me, that his +endeavours had been ineffectual, Mr. Squeeze having no good opinion of +my life; but that there was one expedient remaining: Mrs. Squeeze could +influence her husband, and her good will might be gained by a +compliment. I waited that afternoon on Mrs. Squeeze, and poured out +before her the flatteries which usually gain access to rank and beauty: +I did not then know, that there are places in which the only compliment +is a bribe. Having yet credit with a jeweller, I afterwards procured a +ring of thirty guineas, which I humbly presented, and was soon admitted +to a treaty with Mr. Squeeze. He appeared peevish and backward, and my +old friend whispered me, that he would never make a dry bargain: I +therefore invited him to a tavern. Nine times we met on the affair; nine +times I paid four pounds for the supper and claret; and nine guineas I +gave the agent for good offices. I then obtained the money, paying ten +_per cent_. advance; and at the tenth meeting gave another supper, and +disbursed fifteen pounds for the writings. + +Others who styled themselves brokers, would only trust their money upon +goods: that I might, therefore, try every art of expensive folly, I took +a house and furnished it. I amused myself with despoiling my moveables +of their glossy appearance, for fear of alarming the lender with +suspicions: and in this I succeeded so well, that he favoured me with +one hundred and sixty pounds upon that which was rated at seven hundred. +I then found that I was to maintain a guardian about me to prevent the +goods from being broken or removed. This was, indeed, an unexpected tax; +but it was too late to recede: and I comforted myself, that I might +prevent a creditor, of whom I had some apprehensions, from seizing, by +having a prior execution always in the house. + +By such means I had so embarrassed myself, that my whole attention was +engaged in contriving excuses, and raising small sums to quiet such as +words would no longer mollify. It cost me eighty pounds in presents to +Mr. Leech the attorney, for his forbearance of one hundred, which he +solicited me to take when I had no need. I was perpetually harassed with +importunate demands, and insulted by wretches, who a few months before +would not have dared to raise their eyes from the dust before me. I +lived in continual terrour, frighted by every noise at the door, and +terrified at the approach of every step quicker than common. I never +retired to rest without feeling the justness of the Spanish proverb, +"Let him who sleeps too much, borrow the pillow of a debtor:" my +solicitude and vexation kept me long waking; and when I had closed my +eyes, I was pursued or insulted by visionary bailiffs. + +When I reflected upon the meanness of the shifts I had reduced myself +to, I could not but curse the folly and extravagance that had +overwhelmed me in a sea of troubles, from which it was highly improbable +that I should ever emerge. I had some time lived in hopes of an estate, +at the death of my uncle; but he disappointed me by marrying his +housekeeper; and, catching an opportunity soon after of quarrelling with +me, for settling twenty pounds a year upon a girl whom I had seduced, +told me that he would take care to prevent his fortune from being +squandered upon prostitutes. + +Nothing now remained, but the chance of extricating myself by marriage; +a scheme which, I flattered myself, nothing but my present distress +would have made me think on with patience. I determined, therefore, to +look out for a tender novice, with a large fortune, at her own disposal; +and accordingly fixed my eyes upon Miss Biddy Simper. I had now paid her +six or seven visits; and so fully convinced her of my being a gentleman +and a rake, that I made no doubt that both her person and fortune would +be soon mine. + +At this critical time, Miss Gripe called upon me, in a chariot bought +with my money, and loaded with trinkets that I had, in my days of +affluence, lavished on her. Those days were now over; and there was +little hope that they would ever return. She was not able to withstand +the temptation of ten pounds that Talon the bailiff offered her, but +brought him into my apartment disguised in a livery; and taking my sword +to the window, under pretence of admiring the workmanship, beckoned him +to seize me. + +Delay would have been expensive without use, as the debt was too +considerable for payment or bail: I, therefore, suffered myself to be +immediately conducted to gaol. + + _Vestibulum ante ipsum, primisque in faucibus Orci, + Luctus et ultrices posuere cubilia curae: + Pallentesque habitant morbi, tristisque senectus, + Et metus, et malesuada fames, et turpis egestas._ VIRG. Aen. vi. 273. + + Just in the gate and in the jaws of hell, + Revengeful cares and sullen sorrows dwell; + And pale diseases, and repining age; + Want, fear, and famine's unresisted rage. DRYDEN. + +Confinement of any kind is dreadful; a prison is sometimes able to shock +those, who endure it in a good cause: let your imagination, therefore, +acquaint you with what I have not words to express, and conceive, if +possible, the horrours of imprisonment attended with reproach and +ignominy, of involuntary association with the refuse of mankind, with +wretches who were before too abandoned for society, but, being now freed +from shame or fear, are hourly improving their vices by consorting with +each other. + +There are, however, a few, whom, like myself, imprisonment has rather +mortified than hardened: with these only I converse; and of these you +may, perhaps, hereafter receive some account from + +Your humble servant, MISARGYRUS. + + + + +No. 45. TUESDAY, APRIL 10, 1753 + + _Nulla fides regni sociis, omnisque potestas + Impatiens consortis erit._--LUCAN. Lib. i. 92. + + No faith of partnership dominion owns: + Still discord hovers o'er divided thrones. + +It is well known, that many things appear plausible in speculation, +which can never be reduced to practice; and that of the numberless +projects that have flattered mankind with theoretical speciousness, few +have served any other purpose than to show the ingenuity of their +contrivers. A voyage to the moon, however romantick and absurd the +scheme may now appear, since the properties of air have been better +understood, seemed highly probable to many of the aspiring wits in the +last century, who began to dote upon their glossy plumes, and fluttered +with impatience for the hour of their departure: + + --_Pereunt vestigia mille + Ante fugam, absentemque ferit gravis ungula campum._ + + Hills, vales and floods appear already crost; + And, ere he starts, a thousand steps are lost. POPE. + +Among the fallacies which only experience can detect, there are some, of +which scarcely experience itself can destroy the influence; some which, +by a captivating show of indubitable certainty, are perpetually gaining +upon the human mind; and which, though every trial ends in +disappointment, obtain new credit as the sense of miscarriage wears +gradually away, persuade us to try again what we have tried already, and +expose us by the same failure to double vexation. + +Of this tempting, this delusive kind, is the expectation of great +performances by confederated strength. The speculatist, when he has +carefully observed how much may be performed by a single hand, +calculates by a very easy operation the force of thousands, and goes on +accumulating power till resistance vanishes before it; then rejoices in +the success of his new scheme, and wonders at the folly or idleness of +former ages, who have lived in want of what might so readily be +procured, and suffered themselves to be debarred from happiness by +obstacles which one united effort would have so easily surmounted. + +But this gigantick phantom of collective power vanishes at once into air +and emptiness, at the first attempt to put it into action. The different +apprehensions, the discordant passions, the jarring interests of men, +will scarcely permit that many should unite in one undertaking. + +Of a great and complicated design, some will never be brought to discern +the end; and of the several means by which it may be accomplished, the +choice will be a perpetual subject of debate, as every man is swayed in +his determination by his own knowledge or convenience. In a long series +of action some will languish with fatigue, and some be drawn off by +present gratifications; some will loiter because others labour, and some +will cease to labour because others loiter: and if once they come within +prospect of success and profit, some will be greedy and others envious; +some will undertake more than they can perform, to enlarge their claims +of advantage; some will perform less than they undertake, lest their +labours should chiefly turn to the benefit of others. + +The history of mankind informs us that a single power is very seldom +broken by a confederacy. States of different interests, and aspects +malevolent to each other, may be united for a time by common distress; +and in the ardour of self-preservation fall unanimously upon an enemy, +by whom they are all equally endangered. But if their first attack can +be withstood, time will never fail to dissolve their union: success and +miscarriage will be equally destructive: after the conquest of a +province, they will quarrel in the division; after the loss of a battle, +all will be endeavouring to secure themselves by abandoning the rest. + +From the impossibility of confining numbers to the constant and uniform +prosecution of a common interest, arises the difficulty of securing +subjects against the encroachment of governours. Power is always +gradually stealing away from the many to the few, because the few are +more vigilant and consistent; it still contracts to a smaller number, +till in time it centres in a single person. + +Thus all the forms of governments instituted among mankind, perpetually +tend towards monarchy; and power, however diffused through the whole +community, is, by negligence or corruption, commotion or distress, +reposed at last in the chief magistrate. + +"There never appear," says Swift, "more than five or six men of genius +in an age; but if they were united, the world could not stand before +them." It is happy, therefore, for mankind, that of this union there is +no probability. As men take in a wider compass of intellectual survey, +they are more likely to choose different objects of pursuit; as they see +more ways to the same end, they will be less easily persuaded to travel +together; as each is better qualified to form an independent scheme of +private greatness, he will reject with greater obstinacy the project of +another; as each is more able to distinguish himself as the head of a +party, he will less readily be made a follower or an associate. + +The reigning philosophy informs us, that the vast bodies which +constitute the universe, are regulated in their progress through the +ethereal spaces by the perpetual agency of contrary forces; by one of +which they are restrained from deserting their orbits, and losing +themselves in the immensity of heaven; and held off by the other from +rushing together, and clustering round their centre with everlasting +cohesion. + +The same contrariety of impulse may be perhaps discovered in the motions +of men: we are formed for society, not for combination; we are equally +unqualified to live in a close connexion with our fellow-beings, and in +total separation from them; we are attracted towards each other by +general sympathy, but kept back from contact by private interests. + +Some philosophers have been foolish enough to imagine, that improvements +might be made in the system of the universe, by a different arrangement +of the orbs of heaven; and politicians, equally ignorant and equally +presumptuous, may easily be led to suppose, that the happiness of our +world would be promoted by a different tendency of the human mind. It +appears, indeed, to a slight and superficial observer, that many things +impracticable in our present state, might be easily effected, if mankind +were better disposed to union and co-operation: but a little reflection +will discover, that if confederacies were easily formed, they would lose +their efficacy, since numbers would be opposed to numbers, and unanimity +to unanimity; and instead of the present petty competitions of +individuals or single families, multitudes would be supplanting +multitudes, and thousands plotting against thousands. + +There is no class of the human species, of which the union seems to have +been more expected, than of the learned: the rest of the world have +almost always agreed to shut scholars up together in colleges and +cloisters; surely not without hope, that they would look for that +happiness in concord, which they were debarred from finding in variety; +and that such conjunctions of intellect would recompense the munificence +of founders and patrons, by performances above the reach of any single +mind. + +But discord, who found means to roll her apple into the banqueting +chamber of the goddesses, has had the address to scatter her laurels in +the seminaries of learning. The friendship of students and of beauties +is for the most part equally sincere, and equally durable: as both +depend for happiness on the regard of others, on that of which the value +arises merely from comparison, they are both exposed to perpetual +jealousies, and both incessantly employed in schemes to intercept the +praises of each other. + +I am, however, far from intending to inculcate that this confinement of +the studious to studious companions, has been wholly without advantage +to the publick: neighbourhood, where it does not conciliate friendship, +incites competition; and he that would contentedly rest in a lower +degree of excellence, where he had no rival to dread, will be urged by +his impatience of inferiority to incessant endeavours after great +attainments. + +These stimulations of honest rivalry are, perhaps, the chief effects of +academies and societies; for whatever be the bulk of their joint +labours, every single piece is always the production of an individual, +that owes nothing to his colleagues but the contagion of diligence, a +resolution to write, because the rest are writing, and the scorn of +obscurity while the rest are illustrious[1]. + + +[1] It may not be uninteresting to place in immediate comparison with + this finished paper its first rough draught as given in Boswell, + vol. i. + + "_Confederacies difficult; why_. + + "Seldom in war a match for single persons--nor in peace; therefore + kings make themselves absolute. Confederacies in learning--every + great work the work of one. _Bruy_. Scholars friendship like + ladies. Scribebamus, &c. Mart. The apple of discord--the laurel of + discord--the poverty of criticism. Swift's opinion of the power of + six geniuses united. That union scarce possible. His remarks just; + --man a social, not steady nature. Drawn to man by words, repelled + by passions. Orb drawn by attraction, rep. [_repelled_] by + centrifugal. + + "Common danger unites by crushing other passions--but they return. + Equality hinders compliance. Superiority produces insolence and + envy. Too much regard in each to private interest;--too little. + + "The mischiefs of private and exclusive societies.--The fitness of + social attraction diffused through the whole. The mischiefs of too + partial love of our country. Contraction of moral duties. + [Greek: Oi philoi, ou philos]. + + "Every man moves upon his own centre, and therefore repels others + from too near a contact, though he may comply with some general + laws. Of confederacy with superiors every one knows the + inconvenience. With equals no authority;--every man his own + opinion--his own interest. + + "Man and wife hardly united;--scarce ever without children. + Computation, if two to one against two, how many against five? If + confederacies were easy--useless;--many oppresses many.--If possible + only to some, dangerous. _Principum amicitias_." + + + + +No. 50. SATURDAY, APRIL 28, 1753. + + _Quicunque turpi fraude semel innotuit, + Etiamsi verum dicit, amittit fidem._ PHÆD. Lib. i. Fab. x. l. + + The wretch that often has deceiv'd, + Though truth he speaks, is ne'er believ'd. + +When Aristotle was once asked, what a man could gain by uttering +falsehoods? he replied, "Not to be credited when he shall tell the +truth." + +The character of a liar is at once so hateful and contemptible, that +even of those who have lost their virtue it might be expected that from +the violation of truth they should be restrained by their pride. Almost +every other vice that disgraces human nature, may be kept in countenance +by applause and association: the corrupter of virgin innocence sees +himself envied by the men, and at least not detested by the women; the +drunkard may easily unite with beings, devoted like himself to noisy +merriments or silent insensibility, who will celebrate his victories +over the novices of intemperance, boast themselves the companions of his +prowess, and tell with rapture of the multitudes whom unsuccessful +emulation has hurried to the grave; even the robber and the cut-throat +have their followers, who admire their address and intrepidity, their +stratagems of rapine, and their fidelity to the gang. + +The liar, and only the liar, is invariably and universally despised, +abandoned, and disowned: he has no domestick consolations, which he can +oppose to the censure of mankind; he can retire to no fraternity, where +his crimes may stand in the place of virtues; but is given up to the +hisses of the multitude, without friend and without apologist. It is the +peculiar condition of falsehood, to be equally detested by the good and +bad: "The devils," says Sir Thomas Brown, "do not tell lies to one +another; for truth is necessary to all societies: nor can the society of +hell subsist without it." + +It is natural to expect, that a crime thus generally detested should be +generally avoided; at least, that none should expose himself to unabated +and unpitied infamy, without an adequate temptation; and that to guilt +so easily detected, and so severely punished, an adequate temptation +would not readily be found. + +Yet so it is, that in defiance of censure and contempt, truth is +frequently violated; and scarcely the most vigilant and unremitted +circumspection will secure him that mixes with mankind, from being +hourly deceived by men of whom it can scarcely be imagined, that they +mean any injury to him or profit to themselves: even where the subject +of conversation could not have been expected to put the passions in +motion, or to have excited either hope or fear, or zeal or malignity, +sufficient to induce any man to put his reputation in hazard, however +little he might value it, or to overpower the love of truth, however +weak might be its influence. + +The casuists have very diligently distinguished lies into their several +classes, according to their various degrees of malignity: but they have, +I think, generally omitted that which is most common, and perhaps, not +least mischievous; which, since the moralists have not given it a name, +I shall distinguish as the _lie of vanity_. + +To vanity may justly be imputed most of the falsehoods which every man +perceives hourly playing upon his ear, and, perhaps, most of those that +are propagated with success. To the lie of commerce, and the lie of +malice, the motive is so apparent, that they are seldom negligently or +implicitly received; suspicion is always watchful over the practices of +interest; and whatever the hope of gain, or desire of mischief, can +prompt one man to assert, another is by reasons equally cogent incited +to refute. But vanity pleases herself with such slight gratifications, +and looks forward to pleasure so remotely consequential, that her +practices raise no alarm, and her stratagems are not easily discovered. + +Vanity is, indeed, often suffered to pass unpursued by suspicion, +because he that would watch her motions, can never be at rest: fraud and +malice are bounded in their influence; some opportunity of time and +place is necessary to their agency; but scarce any man is abstracted one +moment from his vanity; and he, to whom truth affords no gratifications, +is generally inclined to seek them in falsehoods. + +It is remarked by Sir Kenelm Digby, "that every man has a desire to +appear superior to others, though it were only in having seen what they +have not seen." Such an accidental advantage, since it neither implies +merit, nor confers dignity, one would think should not be desired so +much as to be counterfeited: yet even this vanity, trifling as it is, +produces innumerable narratives, all equally false; but more or less +credible in proportion to the skill or confidence of the relater. How +many may a man of diffusive conversation count among his acquaintances, +whose lives have been signalized by numberless escapes; who never cross +the river but in a storm, or take a journey into the country without +more adventures than befel the knights-errant of ancient times in +pathless forests or enchanted castles! How many must he know, to whom +portents and prodigies are of daily occurrence; and for whom nature is +hourly working wonders invisible to every other eye, only to supply them +with subjects of conversation. + +Others there are that amuse themselves with the dissemination of +falsehood, at greater hazard of detection and disgrace; men marked out +by some lucky planet for universal confidence and friendship, who have +been consulted in every difficulty, intrusted with every secret, and +summoned to every transaction: it is the supreme felicity of these men, +to stun all companies with noisy information; to still doubt, and +overbear opposition, with certain knowledge or authentick intelligence. +A liar of this kind, with a strong memory or brisk imagination, is often +the oracle of an obscure club, and, till time discovers his impostures, +dictates to his hearers with uncontrouled authority; for if a publick +question be started, he was present at the debate; if a new fashion be +mentioned, he was at court the first day of its appearance; if a new +performance of literature draws the attention of the publick, he has +patronized the author, and seen his work in manuscript; if a criminal of +eminence be condemned to die, he often predicted his fate, and +endeavoured his reformation: and who that lives at a distance from the +scene of action, will dare to contradict a man, who reports from his own +eyes and ears, and to whom all persons and affairs are thus intimately +known? + +This kind of falsehood is generally successful for a time, because it is +practised at first with timidity and caution: but the prosperity of the +liar is of short duration; the reception of one story is always an +incitement to the forgery of another less probable; and he goes on to +triumph over tacit credulity, till pride or reason rises up against him, +and his companions will no longer endure to see him wiser than +themselves. + +It is apparent, that the inventors of all these fictions intend some +exaltation of themselves, and are led off by the pursuit of honour from +their attendance upon truth: their narratives always imply some +consequence in favour of their courage, their sagacity, or their +activity, their familiarity with the learned, or their reception among +the great; they are always bribed by the present pleasure of seeing +themselves superior to those that surround them, and receiving the +homage of silent attention and envious admiration. + +But vanity is sometimes excited to fiction by less visible +gratifications: the present age abounds with a race of liars who are +content with the consciousness of falsehood, and whose pride is to +deceive others without any gain or glory to themselves. Of this tribe it +is the supreme pleasure to remark a lady in the playhouse or the park, +and to publish, under the character of a man suddenly enamoured, an +advertisement in the news of the next day, containing a minute +description of her person and her dress. From this artifice, however, no +other effect can be expected, than perturbations which the writer can +never see, and conjectures of which he never can be informed; some +mischief, however, he hopes he has done; and to have done mischief, is +of some importance. He sets his invention to work again, and produces a +narrative of a robbery or a murder, with all the circumstances of time +and place accurately adjusted. This is a jest of greater effect and +longer duration: if he fixes his scene at a proper distance, he may for +several days keep a wife in terrour for her husband, or a mother for her +son; and please himself with reflecting, that by his abilities and +address some addition is made to the miseries of life. + +There is, I think, an ancient law of Scotland, by which _leasing-making_ +was capitally punished. I am, indeed, far from desiring to increase in +this kingdom the number of executions; yet I cannot but think, that they +who destroy the confidence of society, weaken the credit of +intelligence, and interrupt the security of life; harass the delicate +with shame, and perplex the timorous with alarms; might very properly be +awakened to a sense of their crimes, by denunciations of a whipping-post +or pillory: since many are so insensible of right and wrong, that they +have no standard of action but the law; nor feel guilt, but as they +dread punishment. + + + + +No. 53. TUESDAY, MAY 8, 1753. + + _Quisque suos patimur manes_. VIRG. Aen. Lib. vi. 743. + + Each has his lot, and bears the fate he drew. + +Sir, Fleet, May 6. + +In consequence of my engagements, I address you once more from the +habitations of misery. In this place, from which business and pleasure +are equally excluded, and in which our only employment and diversion is +to hear the narratives of each other, I might much sooner have gathered +materials for a letter, had I not hoped to have been reminded of my +promise; but since I find myself placed in the regions of oblivion, +where I am no less neglected by you than by the rest of mankind, I +resolved no longer to wait for solicitation, but stole early this +evening from between gloomy sullenness and riotous merriment, to give +you an account of part of my companions. + +One of the most eminent members of our club is Mr. Edward Scamper, a man +of whose name the Olympick heroes would not have been ashamed. Ned was +born to a small estate, which he determined to improve; and therefore, +as soon as he became of age, mortgaged part of his land to buy a mare +and stallion, and bred horses for the course. He was at first very +successful, and gained several of the king's plates, as he is now every +day boasting, at the expense of very little more than ten times their +value. At last, however, he discovered, that victory brought him more +honour than profit: resolving, therefore, to be rich as well as +illustrious, he replenished his pockets by another mortgage, became on a +sudden a daring bettor, and resolving not to trust a jockey with his +fortune, rode his horse himself, distanced two of his competitors the +first heat, and at last won the race by forcing his horse on a descent +to full speed at the hazard of his neck. His estate was thus repaired, +and some friends that had no souls advised him to give over; but Ned now +knew the way to riches, and therefore without caution increased his +expenses. From this hour he talked and dreamed of nothing but a +horse-race; and rising soon to the summit of equestrian reputation, he +was constantly expected on every course, divided all his time between +lords and jockeys, and, as the unexperienced regulated their bets by his +example, gained a great deal of money by laying openly on one horse and +secretly on the other. Ned was now so sure of growing rich, that he +involved his estate in a third mortgage, borrowed money of all his +friends, and risked his whole fortune upon Bay Lincoln. He mounted with +beating heart, started fair, and won the first heat; but in the second, +as he was pushing against the foremost of his rivals, his girth broke, +his shoulder was dislocated, and before he was dismissed by the surgeon, +two bailiffs fastened upon him, and he saw Newmarket no more. His daily +amusement for four years has been to blow the signal for starting, to +make imaginary matches, to repeat the pedigree of Bay Lincoln, and to +form resolutions against trusting another groom with the choice of his +girth. + +The next in seniority is Mr. Timothy Snug, a man of deep contrivance and +impenetrable secrecy. His father died with the reputation of more wealth +than he possessed: Tim, therefore, entered the world with a reputed +fortune of ten thousand pounds. Of this he very well knew that eight +thousand was imaginary: but being a man of refined policy, and knowing +how much honour is annexed to riches, he resolved never to detect his +own poverty; but furnished his house with elegance, scattered his money +with profusion, encouraged every scheme of costly pleasure, spoke of +petty losses with negligence, and on the day before an execution entered +his doors, had proclaimed at a public table his resolution to be jolted +no longer in a hackney coach. + +Another of my companions is the magnanimous Jack Scatter, the son of a +country gentleman, who, having no other care than to leave him rich, +considered that literature could not be had without expense; masters +would not teach for nothing; and when a book was bought and read, it +would sell for little. Jack was, therefore, taught to read and write by +the butler; and when this acquisition was made, was left to pass his +days in the kitchen and the stable, where he heard no crime censured but +covetousness and distrust of poor honest servants, and where all the +praise was bestowed on good housekeeping, and a free heart. At the death +of his father, Jack set himself to retrieve the honour of his family: he +abandoned his cellar to the butler, ordered his groom to provide hay and +corn at discretion, took his housekeeper's word for the expenses of the +kitchen, allowed all his servants to do their work by deputies, +permitted his domesticks to keep his house open to their relations and +acquaintance, and in ten years was conveyed hither, without having +purchased by the loss of his patrimony either honour or pleasure, or +obtained any other gratification than that of having corrupted the +neighbouring villagers by luxury and idleness. + +Dick Serge was a draper in Cornhill, and passed eight years in +prosperous diligence, without any care but to keep his books, or any +ambition but to be in time an alderman: but then, by some unaccountable +revolution in his understanding, he became enamoured of wit and humour, +despised the conversation of pedlars and stock-jobbers, and rambled +every night to the regions of gaiety, in quest of company suited to his +taste. The wits at first flocked about him for sport, and afterwards for +interest; some found their way into his books, and some into his +pockets; the man of adventure was equipped from his shop for the +pursuit, of a fortune; and he had sometimes the honour to have his +security accepted when his friends were in distress. Elated with these +associations, he soon learned to neglect his shop; and having drawn his +money out of the funds, to avoid the necessity of teasing men of honour +for trifling debts, he has been forced at last to retire hither, till +his friends can procure him a post at court. + +Another that joins in the same mess is Bob Cornice, whose life has been +spent in fitting up a house. About ten years ago Bob purchased the +country habitation of a bankrupt: the mere shell of a building Bob holds +no great matter; the inside is the test of elegance. Of this house he +was no sooner master than he summoned twenty workmen to his assistance, +tore up the floors and laid them anew, stripped off the wainscot, drew +the windows from their frames, altered the disposition of doors and +fire-places, and cast the whole fabrick into a new form: his next care +was to have his ceilings painted, his pannels gilt, and his +chimney-pieces carved: every thing was executed by the ablest hands: +Bob's business was to follow the workmen with a microscope, and call +upon them to retouch their performances, and heighten excellence to +perfection. + +The reputation of his house now brings round him a daily confluence of +visitants, and every one tells him of some elegance which he has +hitherto overlooked, some convenience not yet procured, or some new mode +in ornament or furniture. Bob, who had no wish but to be admired, nor +any guide but the fashion, thought every thing beautiful in proportion +as it was new, and considered his work as unfinished, while any observer +could suggest an addition; some alteration was therefore every day made, +without any other motive than the charms of novelty. A traveller at last +suggested to him the convenience of a grotto: Bob immediately ordered +the mount of his garden to be excavated: and having laid out a large sum +in shells and minerals, was busy in regulating the disposition of the +colours and lustres, when two gentlemen, who had asked permission to see +his gardens, presented him a writ, and led him off to less elegant +apartments. + +I know not, Sir, whether among this fraternity of sorrow you will think +any much to be pitied; nor indeed do many of them appear to solicit +compassion, for they generally applaud their own conduct, and despise +those whom want of taste or spirit suffers to grow rich. It were happy +if the prisons of the kingdom were filled only with characters like +these, men whom prosperity could not make useful, and whom ruin cannot +make wise: but there are among us many who raise different sensations, +many that owe their present misery to the seductions of treachery, the +strokes of casualty, or the tenderness of pity; many whose sufferings +disgrace society, and whose virtues would adorn it: of these, when +familiarity shall have enabled me to recount their stories without +horrour, you may expect another narrative from + +Sir, + +Your most humble servant, + +MISARGYRUS. + + + + +No. 58. SATURDAY, MAY 25, 1753. + + _Damnant quod non intelligunt_. CIC. + + They condemn what they do not understand. + +Euripides, having presented Socrates with the writings of Heraclitus[1], +a philosopher famed for involution and obscurity, inquired afterwards +his opinion of their merit. "What I understand," said Socrates, "I find +to be excellent; and, therefore, believe that to be of equal value which +I cannot understand." + +The reflection of every man who reads this passage will suggest to him +the difference between the practice of Socrates, and that of modern +criticks: Socrates, who had, by long observation upon himself and +others, discovered the weakness of the strongest, and the dimness of the +most enlightened intellect, was afraid to decide hastily in his own +favour, or to conclude that an author had written without meaning, +because he could not immediately catch his ideas; he knew that the +faults of books are often more justly imputable to the reader, who +sometimes wants attention, and sometimes penetration; whose +understanding is often obstructed by prejudice, and often dissipated by +remissness; who comes sometimes to a new study, unfurnished with +knowledge previously necessary; and finds difficulties insuperable, for +want of ardour sufficient to encounter them. + +Obscurity and clearness are relative terms: to some readers scarce any +book is easy, to others not many are difficult: and surely they, whom +neither any exuberant praise bestowed by others, nor any eminent +conquests over stubborn problems, have entitled to exalt themselves +above the common orders of mankind, might condescend to imitate the +candour of Socrates; and where they find incontestable proofs of +superior genius, be content to think that there is justness in the +connexion which they cannot trace, and cogency in the reasoning which +they cannot comprehend. + +This diffidence is never more reasonable than in the perusal of the +authors of antiquity; of those whose works have been the delight of +ages, and transmitted as the great inheritance of mankind from one +generation to another: surely, no man can, without the utmost arrogance, +imagine that he brings any superiority of understanding to the perusal +of these books which have been preserved in the devastation of cities, +and snatched up from the wreck of nations; which those who fled before +barbarians have been careful to carry off in the hurry of migration, and +of which barbarians have repented the destruction. If in books thus made +venerable by the uniform attestation of successive ages, any passages +shall appear unworthy of that praise which they have formerly received, +let us not immediately determine, that they owed their reputation to +dulness or bigotry; but suspect at least that our ancestors had some +reasons for their opinions, and that our ignorance of those reasons +makes us differ from them. + +It often happens that an author's reputation is endangered in succeeding +times, by that which raised the loudest applause among his +contemporaries: nothing is read with greater pleasure than allusions to +recent facts, reigning opinions, or present controversies; but when +facts are forgotten, and controversies extinguished, these favourite +touches lose all their graces; and the author in his descent to +posterity must be left to the mercy of chance, without any power of +ascertaining the memory of those things, to which he owed his luckiest +thoughts and his kindest reception. + +On such occasions, every reader should remember the diffidence of +Socrates, and repair by his candour the injuries of time: he should +impute the seeming defects of his author to some chasm of intelligence, +and suppose that the sense which is now weak was once forcible, and the +expression which is now dubious formerly determinate. + +How much the mutilation of ancient history has taken away from the +beauty of poetical performances, may be conjectured from the light which +a lucky commentator sometimes effuses, by the recovery of an incident +that had been long forgotten: thus, in the third book of Horace, Juno's +denunciations against, those that should presume to raise again the +walls of Troy, could for many ages please only by splendid images and +swelling language, of which no man discovered the use or propriety, till +Le Fevre, by showing on what occasion the Ode was written, changed +wonder to rational delight. Many passages yet undoubtedly remain in the +same author, which an exacter knowledge of the incidents of his time +would clear from objections. Among these I have always numbered the +following lines: + + _Aurum per medios ire satellites, + Et perrumpere amat saxa, potentius + Ictu fulmineo. Concidit auguris + Argivi domus ob lucrum + Demersa exitio. Diffidit urbium + Portas vir Macedo, et subruit aemulos + Regis muneribus_: Munera navium + Saevos illaqueant duces. HOR. Lib. iii. Ode xvi. 9. + + Stronger than thunder's winged force, + All-powerful gold can spread its course, + Thro' watchful guards its passage make, + And loves thro' solid walls to break: + From gold the overwhelming woes + That crush'd the Grecian augur rose: + Philip with gold thro' cities broke, + And rival monarchs felt his yoke; + _Captains of ships to gold are slaves, + Tho' fierce as their own winds and waves._ FRANCIS. + +The close of this passage, by which every reader is now disappointed and +offended, was probably the delight of the Roman Court: it cannot be +imagined, that Horace, after having given to gold the force of thunder, +and told of its power to storm cities and to conquer kings, would have +concluded his account of its efficacy with its influence over naval +commanders, had he not alluded to some fact then current in the mouths +of men, and therefore more interesting for a time than the conquests of +Philip. Of the like kind may be reckoned another stanza in the same +book: + + --_Jussa coram non sine conscio + Surgit marito, seu vocat_ institor, + _Seu_ navis Hispanae magister, + _Dedecorum pretiosus emptor_. HOR. Lib. iii. Ode. vi. 29. + + The conscious husband bids her rise, + _When some rich factor courts her charms_, + Who calls the wanton to his arms, + And, prodigal of wealth and fame, + Profusely buys the costly shame. FRANCIS. + +He has little knowledge of Horace who imagines that the _factor_, or the +_Spanish merchant_, are mentioned by chance: there was undoubtedly some +popular story of an intrigue, which those names recalled to the memory +of his reader. + +The flame of his genius in other parts, though somewhat dimmed by time, +is not totally eclipsed; his address and judgment yet appear, though +much of the spirit and vigour of his sentiment is lost: this has +happened in the twentieth Ode of the first book: + + _Vile potabis modicis Sabinum + Cantharis, Graecâ quod ego ipse testâ + Conditum levi, datus in theatro + Cum tibi plausus, + Care Maecenas eques: ut paterni + Fluminis ripae, simul et jocosa + Redderet laudes tibi Vaticani + Montis imago._ + + A poet's beverage humbly cheap, + (Should great Maecenas be my guest,) + The vintage of the Sabine grape, + But yet in sober cups shall crown the feast: + 'Twas rack'd into a Grecian cask, + Its rougher juice to melt away; + I seal'd it too--a pleasing task! + With annual joy to mark the glorious day, + When in applausive shouts thy name + Spread from the theatre around, + Floating on thy own Tiber's stream, + And Echo, playful nymph, return'd the sound. FRANCIS. + +We here easily remark the intertexture of a happy compliment with an +humble invitation; but certainly are less delighted than those, to whom +the mention of the applause bestowed upon Maecenas, gave occasion to +recount the actions or words that produced it. + +Two lines which have exercised the ingenuity of modern criticks, may, I +think, be reconciled to the judgment, by an easy supposition: Horace +thus addresses Agrippa: + +_Scriberis Vario fortis, et hostium +Victor_, Maeonii carminis alite. HOR. Lib. i. Ode vi. 1. + +Varius, a _swan of Homer's wing_, +Shall brave Agrippa's conquests sing. + +That Varius should be called "A bird of Homeric song," appears so harsh +to modern ears, that an emendation of the text has been proposed: but +surely the learning of the ancients had been long ago obliterated, had +every man thought himself at liberty to corrupt the lines which he did +not understand. If we imagine that Varius had been by any of his +contemporaries celebrated under the appellation of _Musarum ales_, "the +swan of the Muses," the language of Horace becomes graceful and +familiar; and that such a compliment was at least possible, we know from +the transformation feigned by Horace of himself. + +The most elegant compliment that was paid to Addison, is of this obscure +and perishable kind; + + When panting Virtue her last efforts made, + You brought your Clio to the virgin's aid. + +These lines must please as long as they are understood; but can be +understood only by those that have observed Addison's signatures in the +Spectator. + +The nicety of these minute allusions I shall exemplify by another +instance, which I take this occasion to mention, because, as I am told, +the commentators have omitted it. Tibullus addressed Cynthia in this +manner: + + _Te spectem, suprema mihi cum venerit hora, + Te teneam moriens deficiente manu._ Lib. i. El. i. 73. + + Before my closing eyes dear Cynthia stand, + Held weakly by my fainting trembling hand. + +To these lines Ovid thus refers in his Elegy on the death of Tibullus: + + Cynthia discedens, Felicius, inquit, amata + Sum tibi; vixisti dum tuus ignis eram. + Cui Nemesis, quid, ait, tibi sint mea damna dolori? + Me tenuit moriens deficiente manu. Am. Lib. in. El. ix. 56. + + Blest was my reign, retiring Cynthia cry'd; + Not till he left my breast, Tibullus dy'd. + Forbear, said Nemesis, my loss to moan, + The _fainting trembling hand_ was mine alone. + +The beauty of this passage, which consists in the appropriation made by +Nemesis of the line originally directed to Cynthia, had been wholly +imperceptible to succeeding ages, had chance, which has destroyed so +many greater volumes, deprived us likewise of the poems of Tibullus. + +[1] The obscurity of this philosopher's style is complained of by + Aristotle in his treatise on Rhetoric, iii. 5. We make the reference + with the view of recommending to attention the whole of that book, + which is interspersed with the most acute remarks, and with rules of + criticism founded deeply on the workings of the human mind. It is + undervalued only by those who have not scholarship to read it, and + surely merits this slight tribute of admiration from an Editor of + Johnson's works, with whom a Translation of the Rhetoric was long a + favourite project. + + + + +No. 62. SATURDAY, JUNE 9, 1753. + + _O fortuna viris, invida fortibus + Quam non aequa bonis praemia dividis._ SENECA. + + Capricious Fortune ever joys, + With partial hand to deal the prize, + To crush the brave and cheat the wise. + +TO THE ADVENTURER. + +Fleet, June 6. + +SIR, + +To the account of such of my companions as are imprisoned without being +miserable, or are miserable without any claim to compassion, I promised +to add the histories of those, whose virtue has made them unhappy or +whose misfortunes are at least without a crime. That this catalogue +should be very numerous, neither you nor your readers ought to expect: +_rari quippe boni_; "the good are few." Virtue is uncommon in all the +classes of humanity; and I suppose it will scarcely be imagined more +frequent in a prison than in other places. + +Yet in these gloomy regions is to be found the tenderness, the +generosity, the philanthropy of Serenus, who might have lived in +competence and ease, if he could have looked without emotion on the +miseries of another. Serenus was one of those exalted minds, whom +knowledge and sagacity could not make suspicious; who poured out his +soul in boundless intimacy, and thought community of possessions the law +of friendship. The friend of Serenus was arrested for debt, and after +many endeavours to soften his creditor, sent his wife to solicit that +assistance which never was refused. The tears and importunity of female +distress were more than was necessary to move the heart of Serenus; he +hasted immediately away, and conferring a long time with his friend, +found him confident that if the present pressure was taken off, he +should soon be able to reestablish his affairs. Serenus, accustomed to +believe, and afraid to aggravate distress, did not attempt to detect the +fallacies of hope, nor reflect that every man overwhelmed with calamity +believes, that if that was removed he shall immediately be happy: he, +therefore, with little hesitation offered himself as surety. + +In the first raptures of escape all was joy, gratitude, and confidence: +the friend of Serenus displayed his prospects, and counted over the sums +of which he should infallibly be master before the day of payment. +Serenus in a short time began to find his danger, but could not prevail +with himself to repent of beneficence; and therefore suffered himself +still to be amused with projects which he durst not consider, for fear +of finding them impracticable. The debtor, after he had tried every +method of raising money which art or indigence could prompt, wanted +either fidelity or resolution to surrender himself to prison, and left +Serenus to take his place. + +Serenus has often proposed to the creditor, to pay him whatever he shall +appear to have lost by the flight of his friend: but however reasonable +this proposal may be thought, avarice and brutality have been hitherto +inexorable, and Serenus still continues to languish in prison. In this +place, however, where want makes almost every man selfish, or +desperation gloomy, it is the good fortune of Serenus not to live +without a friend: he passes most of his hours in the conversation of +Candidus, a man whom the same virtuous ductility has, with some +difference of circumstances, made equally unhappy. Candidus, when he was +young, helpless, and ignorant, found a patron that educated, protected, +and supported him; his patron being more vigilant for others than +himself, left at his death an only son, destitute and friendless. +Candidus was eager to repay the benefits he had received; and having +maintained the youth for a few years at his own house, afterwards placed +him with a merchant of eminence, and gave bonds to a great value as a +security for his conduct. + +The young man, removed too early from the only eye of which he dreaded +the observation, and deprived of the only instruction which he heard +with reverence, soon learned to consider virtue as restraint, and +restraint as oppression: and to look with a longing eye at every expense +to which he could not reach, and every pleasure which he could not +partake: by degrees he deviated from his first regularity, and unhappily +mingling among young men busy in dissipating the gains of their fathers' +industry, he forgot the precepts of Candidus, spent the evening in +parties of pleasure, and the morning in expedients to support his riots. +He was, however, dexterous and active in business: and his master, being +secured against any consequences of dishonesty, was very little +solicitous to inspect his manners, or to inquire how he passed those +hours, which were not immediately devoted to the business of his +profession: when he was informed of the young man's extravagance or +debauchery, "let his bondsman look to that," said he, "I have taken care +of myself." + +Thus the unhappy spendthrift proceeded from folly to folly, and from +vice to vice, with the connivance, if not the encouragement, of his +master; till in the heat of a nocturnal revel he committed such +violences in the street as drew upon him a criminal prosecution. Guilty +and unexperienced, he knew not what course to take; to confess his crime +to Candidus, and solicit his interposition, was little less dreadful +than to stand before the frown of a court of justice. Having, therefore, +passed the day with anguish in his heart and distraction in his looks, +he seized at night a very large sum of money in the compting-house, and +setting out he knew not whither, was heard of no more. + +The consequence of his flight was the ruin of Candidus; ruin surely +undeserved and irreproachable, and such as the laws of a just government +ought either to prevent or repair: nothing is more inequitable than that +one man should suffer for the crimes of another, for crimes which he +neither prompted nor permitted, which he could neither foresee nor +prevent. When we consider the weakness of human resolutions and the +inconsistency of human conduct, it must appear absurd that one man shall +engage for another, that he will not change his opinions or alter his +conduct. + +It is, I think, worthy of consideration, whether, since no wager is +binding without a possibility of loss on each side, it is not equally +reasonable, that no contract should be valid without reciprocal +stipulations; but in this case, and others of the same kind, what is +stipulated on his side to whom the bond is given? he takes advantage of +the security, neglects his affairs, omits his duty, suffers timorous +wickedness to grow daring by degrees, permits appetite to call for new +gratifications, and, perhaps, secretly longs for the time in which he +shall have power to seize the forfeiture; and if virtue or gratitude +should prove too strong for temptation, and a young man persist in +honesty, however instigated by his passions, what can secure him at last +against a false accusation? I for my part always shall suspect, that he +who can by such methods secure his property, will go one step further to +increase it; nor can I think that man safely trusted with the means of +mischief, who, by his desire to have them in his hands, gives an evident +proof how much less he values his neighbour's happiness than his own. + +Another of our companions is Lentulus, a man whose dignity of birth was +very ill supported by his fortune. As some of the first offices in the +kingdom were filled by his relations, he was early invited to court, and +encouraged by caresses and promises to attendance and solicitation; a +constant appearance in splendid company necessarily required +magnificence of dress; and a frequent participation of fashionable +amusements forced him into expense: but these measures were requisite to +his success; since every body knows, that to be lost to sight is to be +lost to remembrance, and that he who desires to fill a vacancy, must be +always at hand, lest some man of greater vigilance should step in before +him. + +By this course of life his little fortune was every day made less: but +he received so many distinctions in publick, and was known to resort so +familiarly to the houses of the great, that every man looked on his +preferment as certain, and believed that its value would compensate for +its slowness: he, therefore, found no difficulty in obtaining credit for +all that his rank or his vanity made necessary: and, as ready payment +was not expected, the bills were proportionably enlarged, and the value +of the hazard or delay was adjusted solely by the equity of the +creditor. At length death deprived Lentulus of one of his patrons, and a +revolution in the ministry of another; so that all his prospects +vanished at once, and those that had before encouraged his expenses, +began to perceive that their money was in danger; there was now no other +contention but who should first seize upon his person, and, by forcing +immediate payment, deliver him up naked to the vengeance of the rest. + +In pursuance of this scheme, one of them invited him to a tavern, and +procured him to be arrested at the door; but Lentulus, instead of +endeavouring secretly to pacify him by payment, gave notice to the rest, +and offered to divide amongst them the remnant of his fortune: they +feasted six hours at his expense, to deliberate on his proposal; and at +last determined, that as he could not offer more than five shillings in +the pound, it would be more prudent to keep him in prison, till he could +procure from his relations the payment of his debts. + +Lentulus is not the only man confined within these walls, on the same +account: the like procedure, upon the like motives, is common among men +whom yet the law allows to partake the use of fire and water with the +compassionate and the just; who frequent the assemblies of commerce in +open day, and talk with detestation and contempt of highwaymen or +housebreakers: but, surely, that man must be confessedly robbed, who is +compelled, by whatever means, to pay the debts which he does not owe: +nor can I look with equal hatred upon him, who, at the hazard of his +life, holds out his pistol and demands my purse, as on him who plunders +under shelter of the law, and by detaining my son or my friend in +prison, extorts from me the price of their liberty. No man can be more +an enemy to society than he, by whose machinations our virtues are +turned to our disadvantage; he is less destructive to mankind that +plunders cowardice, than he that preys upon compassion. + +I believe, Mr. Adventurer, you will readily confess, that though not one +of these, if tried before a commercial judicature, can be wholly +acquitted from imprudence or temerity; yet that, in the eye of all who +can consider virtue as distinct from wealth, the fault of two of them, +at least, is outweighed by the merit; and that of the third is so much +extenuated by the circumstances of his life, as not to deserve a +perpetual prison: yet must these, with multitudes equally blameless, +languish in confinement, till malevolence shall relent, or the law be +changed. + +I am, Sir, + +Your humble servant, MISARGYRUS. + + + + +No. 67. TUESDAY, JUNE 26, 1753. + + _Inventas--vitam excolucre per artes_. VIRG. Aen. vi. 663. + + They polish life by useful arts. + +That familiarity produces neglect, has been long observed. The effect of +all external objects, however great or splendid, ceases with their +novelty; the courtier stands without emotion in the royal presence; the +rustick tramples under his foot the beauties of the spring with little +attention to their colours or their fragrance; and the inhabitant of the +coast darts his eye upon the immense diffusion of waters, without awe, +wonder, or terrour. + +Those who have past much of their lives in this great city, look upon +its opulence and its multitudes, its extent and variety, with cold +indifference; but an inhabitant of the remoter parts of the kingdom is +immediately distinguished by a kind of dissipated curiosity, a busy +endeavour to divide his attention amongst a thousand objects, and a wild +confusion of astonishment and alarm. + +The attention of a new comer is generally first struck by the +multiplicity of cries that stun him in the streets, and the variety of +merchandize and manufactures which the shopkeepers expose on every hand; +and he is apt, by unwary bursts of admiration, to excite the merriment +and contempt of those who mistake the use of their eyes for effects of +their understanding, and confound accidental knowledge with just +reasoning. + +But, surely, these are subjects on which any man may without reproach +employ his meditations: the innumerable occupations, among which the +thousands that swarm in the streets of London, are distributed, may +furnish employment to minds of every cast, and capacities of every +degree. He that contemplates the extent of this wonderful city, finds it +difficult to conceive, by what method plenty is maintained in our +markets, and how the inhabitants are regularly supplied with the +necessaries of life; but when he examines the shops and warehouses, sees +the immense stores of every kind of merchandize piled up for sale, and +runs over all the manufactures of art and products of nature, which are +every where attracting his eye and soliciting his purse, he will be +inclined to conclude, that such quantities cannot easily be exhausted, +and that part of mankind must soon stand still for want of employment, +till the wares already provided shall be worn out and destroyed. + +As Socrates was passing through the fair at Athens, and casting his eyes +over the shops and customers, "how many things are here," says he, "that +I do not want!" The same sentiment is every moment rising in the mind of +him that walks the streets of London, however inferior in philosophy to +Socrates: he beholds a thousand shops crowded with goods, of which he +can scarcely tell the use, and which, therefore, he is apt to consider +as of no value: and indeed, many of the arts by which families are +supported, and wealth is heaped together, are of that minute and +superfluous kind, which nothing but experience could evince possible to +be prosecuted with advantage, and which, as the world might easily want, +it could scarcely be expected to encourage. + +But so it is, that custom, curiosity, or wantonness, supplies every art +with patrons, and finds purchasers for every manufacture; the world is +so adjusted, that not only bread, but riches may be obtained without +great abilities or arduous performances: the most unskilful hand and +unenlightened mind have sufficient incitements to industry; for he that +is resolutely busy, can scarcely be in want. There is, indeed, no +employment, however despicable, from which a man may not promise himself +more than competence, when he sees thousands and myriads raised to +dignity, by no other merit than that of contributing to supply their +neighbours with the means of sucking smoke through a tube of clay; and +others raising contributions upon those, whose elegance disdains the +grossness of smoky luxury, by grinding the same materials into a. powder +that may at once gratify and impair the smell. + +Not only by these popular and modish trifles, but by a thousand unheeded +and evanescent kinds of business, are the multitudes of this city +preserved from idleness, and consequently from want. In the endless +variety of tastes and circumstances that diversify mankind, nothing is +so superfluous, but that some one desires it: or so common, but that +some one is compelled to buy it. As nothing is useless but because it is +in improper hands, what is thrown away by one is gathered up by another; +and the refuse of part of mankind furnishes a subordinate class with the +materials necessary to their support. + +When I look round upon those who are thus variously exerting their +qualifications, I cannot but admire the secret concatenation of society +that links together the great and the mean, the illustrious and the +obscure; and consider with benevolent satisfaction, that no man, unless +his body or mind be totally disabled, has need to suffer the +mortification of seeing himself useless or burthensome to the community: +he that will diligently labour, in whatever occupation, will deserve the +sustenance which he obtains, and the protection which he enjoys; and may +lie down every night with the pleasing consciousness of having +contributed something to the happiness of life. + +Contempt and admiration are equally incident to narrow minds: he whose +comprehension can take in the whole subordination of mankind, and whose +perspicacity can pierce to the real state of things through the thin +veils of fortune or of fashion, will discover meanness in the highest +stations, and dignity in the meanest; and find that no man can become +venerable but by virtue, or contemptible but by wickedness. + +In the midst of this universal hurry, no man ought to be so little +influenced by example, or so void of honest emulation, as to stand a +lazy spectator of incessant labour; or please himself with the mean +happiness of a drone, while the active swarms are buzzing about him: no +man is without some quality, by the due application of which he might +deserve well of the world; and whoever he be that has but little in his +power, should be in haste to do that little, lest he be confounded with +him that can do nothing. + +By this general concurrence of endeavours, arts of every kind have been +so long cultivated, that all the wants of man may be immediately +supplied; idleness can scarcely form a wish which she may not gratify by +the toil of others, or curiosity dream of a toy, which the shops are not +ready to afford her. + +Happiness is enjoyed only in proportion as it is known; and such is the +state or folly of man, that it is known only by experience of its +contrary: we who have long lived amidst the conveniencies of a town +immensely populous, have scarce an idea of a place where desire cannot +be gratified by money. In order to have a just sense of this artificial +plenty, it is necessary to have passed some time in a distant colony, or +those parts of our island which are thinly inhabited: he that has once +known how many trades every man in such situations is compelled to +exercise, with how much labour the products of nature must be +accommodated to human use, how long the loss or defect of any common +utensil must be endured, or by what awkward expedients it must be +supplied, how far men may wander with money in their hands before any +can sell them what they wish to buy, will know how to rate at its proper +value the plenty and ease of a great city. + +But that the happiness of man may still remain imperfect, as wants in +this place are easily supplied, new wants likewise are easily created; +every man, in surveying the shops of London, sees numberless instruments +and conveniencies, of which, while he did not know them, he never felt +the need; and yet, when use has made them familiar, wonders how life +could be supported without them. Thus it comes to pass, that our desires +always increase with our possessions; the knowledge that something +remains yet unenjoyed, impairs our enjoyment of the good before us. + +They who have been accustomed to the refinements of science, and +multiplications of contrivance, soon lose their confidence in the +unassisted powers of nature, forget the paucity of our real necessities, +and overlook the easy methods by which they may be supplied. It were a +speculation worthy of a philosophical mind, to examine how much is taken +away from our native abilities, as well as added to them, by artificial +expedients. We are so accustomed to give and receive assistance, that +each of us singly can do little for himself; and there is scarce any one +among us, however contracted may be his form of life, who does not enjoy +the labour of a thousand artists. + +But a survey of the various nations that inhabit the earth will inform +us, that life may be supported with less assistance; and that the +dexterity, which practice enforced by necessity produces, is able to +effect much by very scanty means. The nations of Mexico and Peru erected +cities and temples without the use of iron; and at this day the rude +Indian supplies himself with all the necessaries of life: sent like the +rest of mankind naked into the world, as soon as his parents have nursed +him up to strength, he is to provide by his own labour for his own +support. His first care is to find a sharp flint among the rocks; with +this he undertakes to fell the trees of the forest; he shapes his bow, +heads his arrows, builds his cottage, and hollows his canoe, and from +that time lives in a state of plenty and prosperity; he is sheltered +from the storms, he is fortified against beasts of prey, he is enabled +to pursue the fish of the sea, and the deer of the mountains; and as he +does not know, does not envy the happiness of polished nations, where +gold can supply the want of fortitude and skill, and he whose laborious +ancestors have made him rich, may lie stretched upon a couch, and see +all the treasures of all the elements poured down before him. + +This picture of a savage life if it shows how much individuals may +perform, shows likewise how much society is to be desired. Though the +perseverance and address of the Indian excite our admiration, they +nevertheless cannot procure him the conveniencies which are enjoyed by +the vagrant beggar of a civilized country: he hunts like a wild beast to +satisfy his hunger; and when he lies down to rest after a successful +chase, cannot pronounce himself secure against the danger of perishing +in a few days: he is, perhaps, content with his condition, because he +knows not that a better is attainable by man; as he that is born blind +does not long for the perception of light, because he cannot conceive +the advantages which light would afford him; but hunger, wounds, and +weariness, are real evils, though he believes them equally incident to +all his fellow-creatures; and when a tempest compels him to lie starving +in his hut, he cannot justly be concluded equally happy with those whom +art has exempted from the power of chance, and who make the foregoing +year provide for the following. + +To receive and to communicate assistance, constitutes the happiness of +human life: man may, indeed, preserve his existence in solitude, but can +enjoy it only in society; the greatest understanding of an individual, +doomed to procure food and clothing for himself, will barely supply him +with expedients to keep off death from day to day; but as one of a large +community performing only his share of the common business, he gains +leisure for intellectual pleasures, and enjoys the happiness of reason +and reflection. + + + + +No. 69. TUESDAY, JULY 3, 1753. + + _Fere libenter homines id quod volunt credunt._ Cæsar. + + Men willingly believe what they wish to be true. + +Tully has long ago observed, that no man, however weakened by long life, +is so conscious of his own decrepitude, as not to imagine that he may +yet hold his station in the world for another year. + +Of the truth of this remark every day furnishes new confirmation: there +is no time of life, in which men for the most part seem less to expect +the stroke of death, than when every other eye sees it impending; or are +more busy in providing for another year, than when it is plain to all +but themselves, that at another year they cannot arrive. Though every +funeral that passes before their eyes evinces the deceitfulness of such +expectations, since every man who is born to the grave thought himself +equally certain of living at least to the next year; the survivor still +continues to flatter himself, and is never at a loss for some reason why +his life should be protracted, and the voracity of death continue to be +pacified with some other prey. + +But this is only one of the innumerable artifices practised in the +universal conspiracy of mankind against themselves: every age and every +condition indulges some darling fallacy; every man amuses himself with +projects which he knows to be improbable, and which, therefore, he +resolves to pursue without daring to examine them. Whatever any man +ardently desires, he very readily believes that he shall some time +attain: he whose intemperance has overwhelmed him with diseases, while +he languishes in the spring, expects vigour and recovery from the summer +sun; and while he melts away in the summer, transfers his hopes to the +frosts of winter: he that gazes upon elegance or pleasure, which want of +money hinders him from imitating or partaking, comforts himself that the +time of distress will soon be at an end, and that every day brings him +nearer to a state of happiness; though he knows it has passed not only +without acquisition of advantage, but perhaps without endeavours after +it, in the formation of schemes that cannot be executed, and in the +contemplation of prospects which cannot be approached. + +Such is the general dream in which we all slumber out our time: every +man thinks the day coming, in which he shall be gratified with all his +wishes, in which he shall leave all those competitors behind, who are +now rejoicing like himself in the expectation of victory; the day is +always coming to the servile in which they shall be powerful, to the +obscure in which they shall be eminent, and to the deformed in which +they shall be beautiful. + +If any of my readers has looked with so little attention on the world +about him, as to imagine this representation exaggerated beyond +probability, let him reflect a little upon his own life; let him +consider what were his hopes and prospects ten years ago, and what +additions he then expected to be made by ten years to his happiness; +those years are now elapsed; have they made good the promise that was +extorted from them? have they advanced his fortune, enlarged his +knowledge, or reformed his conduct, to the degree that was once +expected? I am afraid, every man that recollects his hopes must confess +his disappointment; and own that day has glided unprofitably after day, +and that he is still at the same distance from the point of happiness. + +With what consolations can those, who have thus miscarried in their +chief design, elude the memory of their ill success? with what +amusements can they pacify their discontent, after the loss of so large +a portion of life? they can give themselves up again to the same +delusions, they can form new schemes of airy gratifications, and fix +another period of felicity; they can again resolve to trust the promise +which they know will be broken, they can walk in a circle with their +eyes shut, and persuade themselves to think that they go forward. + +Of every great and complicated event, part depends upon causes out of +our power, and part must be effected by vigour and perseverance. With +regard to that which is styled in common language the work of chance, +men will always find reasons for confidence or distrust, according to +their different tempers or inclinations; and he that has been long +accustomed to please himself with possibilities of fortuitous happiness, +will not easily or willingly be reclaimed from his mistake. But the +effects of human industry and skill are more easily subjected to +calculation: whatever can be completed in a year, is divisible into +parts, of which each may be performed in the compass of a day; he, +therefore, that has passed the day without attention to the task +assigned him, may be certain, that the lapse of life has brought him no +nearer to his object; for whatever idleness may expect from time, its +produce will be only in proportion to the diligence with which it has +been used. He that floats lazily down the stream, in pursuit of +something borne along by the same current, will find himself indeed move +forward; but unless he lays his hand to the oar, and increases his speed +by his own labour, must be always at the same distance from that which +he is following. + +There have happened in every age some contingencies of unexpected and +undeserved success, by which those who are determined to believe +whatever favours their inclinations, have been encouraged to delight +themselves with future advantages; they support confidence by +considerations, of which the only proper use is to chase away despair: +it is equally absurd to sit down in idleness because some have been +enriched without labour, as to leap a precipice because some have fallen +and escaped with life, or to put to sea in a storm because some have +been driven from a wreck upon the coast to which they are bound. + +We are all ready to confess, that belief ought to be proportioned to +evidence or probability: let any man, therefore, compare the number of +those who have been thus favoured by fortune, and of those who have +failed of their expectations, and he will easily determine, with what +justness he has registered himself in the lucky catalogue. + +But there is no need on these occasions for deep inquiries or laborious +calculations; there is a far easier method of distinguishing the hopes +of folly from those of reason, of finding the difference between +prospects that exist before the eyes, and those that are only painted on +a fond imagination. Tom Drowsy had accustomed himself to compute the +profit of a darling project till he had no longer any doubt of its +success; it was at last matured by close consideration, all the measures +were accurately adjusted, and he wanted only five hundred pounds to +become master of a fortune that might be envied by a director of a +trading company. Tom was generous and grateful, and was resolved to +recompense this small assistance with an ample fortune; he, therefore, +deliberated for a time, to whom amongst his friends he should declare +his necessities; not that he suspected a refusal, but because he could +not suddenly determine which of them would make the best use of riches, +and was, therefore, most worthy of his favour. At last his choice was +settled; and knowing that in order to borrow he must shew the +probability of repayment, he prepared for a minute and copious +explanation of his project. But here the golden dream was at an end: he +soon discovered the impossibility of imposing upon others the notions by +which he had so long imposed upon himself; which way soever he turned +his thoughts, impossibility and absurdity arose in opposition on every +side; even credulity and prejudice were at last forced to give way, and +he grew ashamed of crediting himself what shame would not suffer him to +communicate to another. + +To this test let every man bring his imaginations, before they have been +too long predominant in his mind. Whatever is true will bear to be +related, whatever is rational will endure to be explained; but when we +delight to brood in secret over future happiness, and silently to employ +our meditations upon schemes of which we are conscious that the bare +mention would expose us to derision and contempt; we should then +remember, that we are cheating ourselves by voluntary delusions; and +giving up to the unreal mockeries of fancy, those hours in which solid +advantages might be attained by sober thought and rational assiduity. + +There is, indeed, so little certainty in human affairs, that the most +cautious and severe examiner may be allowed to indulge some hopes which +he cannot prove to be much favoured by probability; since, after his +utmost endeavours to ascertain events, he must often leave the issue in +the hands of chance. And so scanty is our present allowance of +happiness, that in many situations life could scarcely be supported, if +hope were not allowed to relieve the present hour by pleasures borrowed +from futurity; and reanimate the languor of dejection to new efforts, by +pointing to distant regions of felicity, which yet no resolution or +perseverance shall ever reach. + +But these, like all other cordials, though they may invigorate in a +small quantity, intoxicate in a greater; these pleasures, like the rest, +are lawful only in certain circumstances, and to certain degrees; they +may be useful in a due subserviency to nobler purposes, but become +dangerous and destructive when once they gain the ascendant in the +heart: to soothe the mind to tranquillity by hope, even when that hope +is likely to deceive us, may be sometimes useful; but to lull our +faculties in a lethargy is poor and despicable. + +Vices and errours are differently modified, according to the state of +the minds to which they are incident; to indulge hope beyond the warrant +of reason, is the failure alike of mean and elevated understandings; but +its foundation and its effects are totally different: the man of high +courage and great abilities is apt to place too much confidence in +himself, and to expect, from a vigorous exertion of his powers, more +than spirit or diligence can attain: between him and his wish he sees +obstacles indeed, but he expects to overleap or break them; his mistaken +ardour hurries him forward; and though, perhaps, he misses his end, he +nevertheless obtains some collateral good, and performs something useful +to mankind, and honourable to himself. + +The drone of timidity presumes likewise to hope, but without ground and +without consequence; the bliss with which he solaces his hours he always +expects from others, though very often he knows not from whom: he folds +his arms about him, and sits in expectation of some revolution in the +state that shall raise him to greatness, or some golden shower that +shall load him with wealth; he dozes away the day in musing upon the +morrow; and at the end of life is roused from his dream only to discover +that the time of action is past, and that he can now shew his wisdom +only by repentance. + + + + +No. 74. SATURDAY, JULY 21, 1753. + + _Insanientis dun sapientæ + Consultus erro.--_ HOR. Lib. i. Od. xxxiv. 2. + + I miss'd my end, and lost my way, + By crack-brain'd wisdom led astray. + +TO THE ADVENTURER. + +SIR, + +It has long been charged by one part of mankind upon the other, that +they will not take advice; that counsel and instruction are generally +thrown away; and that, in defiance both of admonition and example, all +claim the right to choose their own measures, and to regulate their own +lives. + +That there is something in advice very useful and salutary, seems to be +equally confessed on all hands: since even those that reject it, allow +for the most part that rejection to be wrong, but charge the fault upon +the unskilful manner in which it is given: they admit the efficacy of +the medicine, but abhor the nauseousness of the vehicle. + +Thus mankind have gone on from century to century: some have been +advising others how to act, and some have been teaching the advisers how +to advise; yet very little alteration has been made in the world. As we +must all by the law of nature enter life in ignorance, we must all make +our way through it by the light of our own experience; and for any +security that advice has been yet able to afford, must endeavour after +success at the hazard of miscarriage, and learn to do right by venturing +to do wrong. + +By advice I would not be understood to mean, the everlasting and +invariable principles of moral and religious truth, from which no change +of external circumstances can justify any deviation; but such directions +as respect merely the prudential part of conduct, and which may he +followed or neglected without any violation of essential duties. + +It is, indeed, not so frequently to make us good as to make us wise, +that our friends employ the officiousness of counsel; and among the +rejectors of advice, who are mentioned by the grave and sententious with +so much acrimony, you will not so often find the vicious and abandoned, +as the pert and the petulant, the vivacious and the giddy. + +As the great end of female education is to get a husband, this likewise +is the general subject of female advice: and the dreadful denunciation +against those volatile girls, who will not listen patiently to the +lectures of wrinkled wisdom, is, that they will die unmarried, or throw +themselves away upon some worthless fellow, who will never be able to +keep them a coach. + +I being naturally of a ductile and easy temper, without strong desires +or quick resentments, was always a favourite amongst the elderly ladies, +because I never rebelled against seniority, nor could be charged with +thinking myself wise before my time; but heard every opinion with +submissive silence, professed myself ready to learn from all who seemed +inclined to teach me, paid the same grateful acknowledgments for +precepts contradictory to each other, and if any controversy arose, was +careful to side with her who presided in the company. + +Of this compliance I very early found the advantage; for my aunt Matilda +left me a very large addition to my fortune, for this reason chiefly, as +she herself declared, because I was not above hearing good counsel, but +would sit from morning till night to be instructed, while my sister +Sukey, who was a year younger than myself, and was, therefore, in +greater want of information, was so much conceited of her own knowledge, +that whenever the good lady in the ardour of benevolence reproved or +instructed her, she would pout or titter, interrupt her with questions, +or embarrass her with objections. + +I had no design to supplant my sister by this complaisant attention; +nor, when the consequence of my obsequiousness came to be known, did +Sukey so much envy as despise me: I was, however, very well pleased with +my success; and having received, from the concurrent opinion of all +mankind, a notion that to be rich was to be great and happy, I thought I +had obtained my advantages at an easy rate, and resolved to continue the +same passive attention, since I found myself so powerfully recommended +by it to kindness and esteem. + +The desire of advising has a very extensive prevalence; and since advice +cannot be given but to those that will hear it, a patient listener is +necessary to the accommodation of all those who desire to be confirmed +in the opinion of their own wisdom: a patient listener, however, is not +always to be had; the present age, whatever age is present, is so +vitiated and disordered that young people are readier to talk than to +attend, and good counsel is only thrown away upon those who are full of +their own perfections. + +I was, therefore, in this scarcity of good sense, a general favourite; +and seldom saw a day in which some sober matron did not invite me to her +house, or take me out in her chariot, for the sake of instructing me how +to keep my character in this censorious age, how to conduct myself in +the time of courtship, how to stipulate for a settlement, how to manage +a husband of every character, regulate my family, and educate my +children. + +We are all naturally credulous in our own favour. Having been so often +caressed and applauded for docility, I was willing to believe myself +really enlightened by instruction, and completely qualified for the task +of life. I did not doubt but I was entering the world with a mind +furnished against all exigencies, with expedients to extricate myself +from every difficulty, and sagacity to provide against every danger; I +was, therefore, in haste to give some specimen of my prudence, and to +show that this liberality of instruction had not been idly lavished upon +a mind incapable of improvement. + +My purpose, for why should I deny it? was like that of other women, to +obtain a husband of rank and fortune superior to my own; and in this I +had the concurrence of all those that had assumed the province of +directing me. That the woman was undone who married below herself, was +universally agreed: and though some ventured to assert, that the richer +man ought invariably to be preferred, and that money was a sufficient +compensation for a defective ancestry; yet the majority declared warmly +for a gentleman, and were of opinion that upstarts should not be +encouraged. + +With regard to other qualifications I had an irreconcilable variety of +instructions. I was sometimes told that deformity was no defect in a +man; and that he who was not encouraged to intrigue by an opinion of his +person, was more likely to value the tenderness of his wife: but a +grave-widow directed me to choose a man who might imagine himself +agreeable to me, for that the deformed were always insupportably +vigilant, and apt to sink into sullenness, or burst into rage, if they +found their wife's eye wandering for a moment to a good face or a +handsome shape. + +They were, however, all unanimous in warning me, with repeated cautions, +against all thoughts of union with a wit, as a being with whom no +happiness could possibly be enjoyed: men of every other kind I was +taught to govern, but a wit was an animal for whom no arts of taming had +been yet discovered: the woman whom he could once get within his power, +was considered as lost to all hope of dominion or of quiet: for he would +detect artifice and defeat allurement; and if once he discovered any +failure of conduct, would believe his own eyes, in defiance of tears, +caresses, and protestations. + +In pursuance of these sage principles, I proceeded to form my schemes; +and while I was yet in the first bloom of youth, was taken out at an +assembly by Mr. Frisk. I am afraid my cheeks glowed, and my eyes +sparkled; for I observed the looks of all my superintendants fixed +anxiously upon me; and I was next day cautioned against him from all +hands, as a man of the most dangerous and formidable kind, who had writ +verses to one lady, and then forsaken her only because she could not +read them, and had lampooned another for no other fault than defaming +his sister. + +Having been hitherto accustomed to obey, I ventured to dismiss Mr. +Frisk, who happily did not think me worth the labour of a lampoon. I was +then addressed by Mr. Sturdy, and congratulated by all my friends on the +manors of which I was shortly to be lady: but Sturdy's conversation was +so gross, that after the third visit I could endure him no longer; and +incurred, by dismissing him, the censure of all my friends, who declared +that my nicety was greater than my prudence, and that they feared it +would be my fate at last to be wretched with a wit. + +By a wit, however, I was never afterwards attacked, but lovers of every +other class, or pretended lovers, I have often had; and, notwithstanding +the advice constantly given me, to have no regard in my choice to my own +inclinations, I could not forbear to discard some for vice, and some for +rudeness. I was once loudly censured for refusing an old gentleman who +offered an enormous jointure, and died of the phthisic a year after; and +was so baited with incessant importunities, that I should have given my +hand to Drone the stock-jobber, had not the reduction of interest made +him afraid of the expenses of matrimony. + +Some, indeed, I was permitted to encourage; but miscarried of the main +end, by treating them according to the rules of art which had been +prescribed me. Altilis, an old maid, infused into me so much haughtiness +and reserve, that some of my lovers withdrew themselves from my frown, +and returned no more; others were driven away, by the demands of +settlement which the widow Trapland directed me to make; and I have +learned, by many experiments, that to ask advice is to lose opportunity. + +I am, Sir, + +Your humble servant, + +PERDITA. + + + + +No. 81. TUESDAY, AUGUST 14, 1753. + + _Nil desperandum. Lib. i. Od. vii. 27. + + Avaunt despair!_ + +I have sometimes heard it disputed in conversation, whether it be more +laudable or desirable, that a man should think too highly or too meanly +of himself: it is on all hands agreed to be best, that he should think +rightly; but since a fallible being will always make some deviations +from exact rectitude, it is not wholly useless to inquire towards which +side it is safer to decline. + +The prejudices of mankind seem to favour him who errs by under-rating +his own powers: he is considered as a modest and harmless member of +society, not likely to break the peace by competition, to endeavour +after such splendour of reputation as may dim the lustre of others, or +to interrupt any in the enjoyment of themselves; he is no man's rival, +and, therefore, may be every man's friend. + +The opinion which a man entertains of himself ought to be distinguished, +in order to an accurate discussion of this question, as it relates to +persons or to things. To think highly of ourselves in comparison with +others, to assume by our own authority that precedence which none is +willing to grant, must be always invidious and offensive; but to rate +our powers high in proportion to things, and imagine ourselves equal to +great undertakings, while we leave others in possession of the same +abilities, cannot with equal justice provoke censure. + +It must be confessed, that self-love may dispose us to decide too +hastily in our own favour: but who is hurt by the mistake? If we are +incited by this vain opinion to attempt more than we can perform, ours +is the labour, and ours is the disgrace. + +But he that dares to think well of himself, will not always prove to be +mistaken; and the good effects of his confidence will then appear in +great attempts and great performances: if he should not fully complete +his design, he will at least advance it so far as to leave an easier +task for him that succeeds him; and even though he should wholly fail, +he will fail with honour. + +But from the opposite errour, from torpid despondency, can come no +advantage; it is the frost of the soul, which binds up all its powers, +and congeals life in perpetual sterility. He that has no hopes of +success, will make no attempts; and where nothing is attempted, nothing +can be done. + +Every man should, therefore, endeavour to maintain in himself a +favourable opinion of the powers of the human mind; which are, perhaps, +in every man, greater than they appear, and might, by diligent +cultivation, be exalted to a degree beyond what their possessor presumes +to believe. There is scarce any man but has found himself able, at the +instigation of necessity, to do what in a state of leisure and +deliberation he would have concluded impossible; and some of our species +have signalized themselves by such achievements, as prove that there are +few things above human hope. + +It has been the policy of all nations to preserve, by some public +monuments, the memory of those who have served their country by great +exploits: there is the same reason for continuing or reviving the names +of those, whose extensive abilities have dignified humanity. An honest +emulation may be alike excited; and the philosopher's curiosity may be +inflamed by a catalogue of the works of Boyle or Bacon, as Themistocles +was kept awake by the trophies of Miltiades. + +Among the favourites of nature that have from time to time appeared in +the world, enriched with various endowments and contrarieties of +excellence, none seems to have been exalted above the common rate of +humanity, than the man known about two centuries ago by the appellation +of the Admirable Crichton; of whose history, whatever we may suppress as +surpassing credibility, yet we shall, upon incontestable authority, +relate enough to rank him among prodigies. + +"Virtue," says Virgil, "is better accepted when it comes in a pleasing +form:" the person of Crichton was eminently beautiful; but his beauty +was consistent with such activity and strength, that in fencing he would +spring at one bound the length of twenty feet upon his antagonist; and +he used the sword in either hand with such force and dexterity, that +scarce any one had courage to engage him. + +Having studied at St. Andrew's in Scotland, he went to Paris in his +twenty-first year, and affixed on the gate of the college of Navarre a +kind of challenge to the learned of that university to dispute with him +on a certain day: offering to his opponents, whoever they should be, the +choice of ten languages, and of all faculties and sciences. On the day +appointed three thousand auditors assembled, when four doctors of the +church and fifty masters appeared against him; and one of his +antagonists confesses, that the doctors were defeated; that he gave +proofs of knowledge above the reach of man; and that a hundred years +passed without food or sleep, would not be sufficient for the attainment +of his learning. After a disputation of nine hours, he was presented by +the president and professors with a diamond and a purse of gold, and +dismissed with repeated acclamations. + +From Paris he went away to Rome, where he made the same challenge, and +had in the presence of the pope and cardinals the same success. +Afterwards he contracted at Venice an acquaintance with Aldus Manutius, +by whom he was introduced to the learned of that city: then visited +Padua, where he engaged in another publick disputation, beginning his +performance with an extemporal poem in praise of the city and the +assembly then present, and concluding with an oration equally +unpremeditated in commendation of ignorance. + +He afterwards published another challenge, in which he declared himself +ready to detect the errours of Aristotle and all his commentators, +either in the common forms of logick, or in any which his antagonists +should propose of a hundred different kinds of verse. + +These acquisitions of learning, however stupendous, were not gained at +the expense of any pleasure which youth generally indulges, or by the +omission of any accomplishment in which it becomes a gentleman to excel: +he practised in great perfection the arts of drawing and painting, he +was an eminent performer in both vocal and instrumental musick, he +danced with uncommon gracefulness, and, on the day after his disputation +at Paris, exhibited his skill in horsemanship before the court of +France, where at a publick match of tilting, he bore away the ring upon +his lance fifteen times together. + +He excelled likewise in domestic games of less dignity and reputation: +and in the interval between his challenge and disputation at Paris, he +spent so much of his time at cards, dice, and tennis, that a lampoon was +fixed upon the gate of the Sorbonne, directing those that would see this +monster of erudition, to look for him at the tavern. + +So extensive was his acquaintance with life and manners, that in an +Italian comedy composed by himself, and exhibited before the court of +Mantua, he is said to have personated fifteen different characters; in +all which he might succeed without great difficulty, since he had such +power of retention, that once hearing an oration of an hour, he would +repeat it exactly, and in the recital follow the speaker through all his +variety of tone and gesticulation. + +Nor was his skill in arms less than in learning, or his courage inferior +to his skill: there was a prize-fighter at Mantua, who travelling about +the world, according to the barbarous custom of that age, as a general +challenger, had defeated the most celebrated masters in many parts of +Europe; and in Mantua, where he then resided, had killed three that +appeared against him. The duke repented that he had granted him his +protection; when Crichton, looking on his sanguinary success with +indignation, offered to stake fifteen hundred pistoles, and mount the +stage against him. The duke with some reluctance consented, and on the +day fixed the combatants appeared: their weapon seems to have been +single rapier, which was then newly introduced in Italy. The +prize-fighter advanced with great violence and fierceness, and Crichton +contented himself calmly to ward his passes, and suffered him to exhaust +his vigour by his own fury. Crichton then became the assailant; and +pressed upon him with such force and agility, that he thrust him thrice +through the body, and saw him expire: he then divided the prize he had +won among the widows whose husbands had been killed. + +The death of this wonderful man I should be willing to conceal, did I +not know that every reader will inquire curiously after that fatal hour, +which is common to all human beings, however distinguished from each +other by nature or by fortune. + +The duke of Mantua, having received so many proofs of his various merit, +made him tutor to his son Vicentio di Gonzaga, a prince of loose manners +and turbulent disposition. On this occasion it was, that he composed the +comedy in which he exhibited so many different characters with exact +propriety. But his honour was of short continuance; for as he was one +night in the time of Carnival rambling about the streets, with his +guitar in his hand, he was attacked by six men masked. Neither his +courage nor skill in his exigence deserted him: he opposed them with +such activity and spirit, that he soon dispersed them, and disarmed +their leader, who throwing off his mask, discovered himself to be the +prince his pupil. Crichton, falling on his knees, took his own sword by +the point, and presented it to the prince; who immediately seized it, +and instigated, as some say, by jealousy, according to others, only by +drunken fury and brutal resentment, thrust him through the heart. + +Thus was the Admirable Crichton brought into that state, in which he +could excel the meanest of mankind only by a few empty honours paid to +his memory: the court of Mantua testified their esteem by a publick +mourning, the contemporary wits were profuse of their encomiums, and the +palaces of Italy were adorned with pictures, representing him on +horseback with a lance in one hand and a book in the other[1]. + +[1] This paper is enumerated by Chalmers among those which Johnson + dictated, not to Bathurst, but to Hawkesworth. It is an elegant + summary of Crichton's life which is in Mackenzie's Writers of the + Scotch Nation. See a fuller account by the Earl of Buchan and Dr. + Kippis in the Biog. Brit. and the recently published one by Mr. + Frazer Tytler. + + + + +No. 84. SATURDAY, AUGUST 25, 1753. + + _Tolle periclum, + Jam vaga prosiliet frenis natura remotis._ HOR. Lib. ii. Sat. vii. 73. + + But take the danger and the shame away, + And vagrant nature bounds upon her prey. FRANCIS. + +TO THE ADVENTURER. + +SIR, + +It has been observed, I think, by Sir William Temple, and after him by +almost every other writer, that England affords a greater variety of +characters than the rest of the world. This is ascribed to the liberty +prevailing amongst us, which gives every man the privilege of being wise +or foolish his own way, and preserves him from the necessity of +hypocrisy or the servility of imitation. + +That the position itself is true, I am not completely satisfied. To be +nearly acquainted with the people of different countries can happen to +very few; and in life, as in every thing else beheld at a distance, +there appears an even uniformity: the petty discriminations which +diversify the natural character, are not discoverable but by a close +inspection; we, therefore, find them most at home, because there we have +most opportunities of remarking them. Much less am I convinced, that +this peculiar diversification, if it be real, is the consequence of +peculiar liberty; for where is the government to be found that +superintends individuals with so much vigilance, as not to leave their +private conduct without restraint? Can it enter into a reasonable mind +to imagine, that men of every other nation are not equally masters of +their own time or houses with ourselves, and equally at liberty to be +parsimonious or profuse, frolick or sullen, abstinent or luxurious? +Liberty is certainly necessary to the full play of predominant humours; +but such liberty is to be found alike under the government of the many +or the few, in monarchies or commonwealths. + +How readily the predominant passion snatches an interval of liberty, and +how fast it expands itself when the weight of restraint is taken away, I +had lately an opportunity to discover, as I took a journey into the +country in a stage-coach; which, as every journey is a kind of +adventure, may be very properly related to you, though I can display no +such extraordinary assembly as Cervantes has collected at Don Quixote's +inn[1]. + +In a stage coach, the passengers are for the most part wholly unknown to +one another, and without expectation of ever meeting again when their +journey is at an end; one should therefore imagine, that it was of +little importance to any of them, what conjectures the rest should form +concerning him. Yet so it is, that as all think themselves secure from +detection, all assume that character of which they are most desirous, +and on no occasion is the general ambition of superiority more +apparently indulged. + +On the day of our departure, in the twilight of the morning, I ascended +the vehicle with three men and two women, my fellow travellers. It was +easy to observe the affected elevation of mien with which every one +entered, and the supercilious servility with which they paid their +compliments to each other. When the first ceremony was despatched, we +sat silent for a long time, all employed in collecting importance into +our faces, and endeavouring to strike reverence and submission into our +companions. + +It is always observable that silence propagates itself, and that the +longer talk has been suspended, the more difficult it is to find any +thing to say. We began now to wish for conversation; but no one seemed +inclined to descend from his dignity, or first propose a topick of +discourse. At last a corpulent gentleman, who had equipped himself for +this expedition with a scarlet surtout and a large hat with a broad +lace, drew out his watch, looked on it in silence, and then held it +dangling at his finger. This was, I suppose, understood by all the +company as an invitation to ask the time of the day, but nobody appeared +to heed his overture; and his desire to be talking so far overcame his +resentment, that he let us know of his own accord it was past five, and +that in two hours we should be at breakfast. + +His condescension was thrown away: we continued all obdurate; the ladies +held up their heads; I amused myself with watching their behaviour; and +of the other two, one seemed to employ himself in counting the trees as +we drove by them, the other drew his hat over his eyes, and +counterfeited a slumber. The man of benevolence, to shew that he was not +depressed by our neglect, hummed a tune, and beat time upon his +snuff-box. + +Thus universally displeased with one another, and not much delighted +with ourselves, we came at last to the little inn appointed for our +repast; and all began at once to recompense themselves for the +constraint of silence, by innumerable questions and orders to the people +that attended us. At last, what every one had called for was got, or +declared impossible to be got at that time, and we were persuaded to sit +round the same table; when the gentleman in the red surtout looked again +upon his watch, told us that we had half an hour to spare, but he was +sorry to see so little merriment among us; that all fellow travellers +were for the time upon the level, and that it was always his way to make +himself one of the company. "I remember," says he, "it was on just such +a morning as this, that I and my Lord Mumble and the Duke of Tenterden +were out upon a ramble: we called at a little house as it might be this; +and my landlady, I warrant you, not suspecting to whom she was talking, +was so jocular and facetious, and made so many merry answers to our +questions, that we were all ready to burst with laughter. At last the +good woman happening to overhear me whisper the duke and call him by his +title, was so surprised and confounded, that we could scarcely get a +word from her; and the duke never met me from that day to this, but he +talks of the little house, and quarrels with me for terrifying the +landlady." + +He had scarcely time to congratulate himself on the veneration which +this narrative must have procured for him from the company, when one of +the ladies having reached out for a plate on a distant part of the +table, began to remark, "the inconveniencies of travelling, and the +difficulty which they who never sat at home without a great number of +attendants, found in performing for themselves such offices as the road +required; but that people of quality often travelled in disguise, and +might be generally known from the vulgar by their condescension to poor +inn-keepers, and the allowance which they made for any defect in their +entertainment; that for her part, while people were civil and meant +well, it was never her custom to find fault, for one was not to expect +upon a journey all that one enjoyed at one's own house." + +A general emulation seemed now to be excited. One of the men who had +hitherto said nothing, called for the last newspaper; and having perused +it a while with deep pensiveness, "It is impossible," says he, "for any +man to guess how to act with regard to the stocks; last week it was the +general opinion that they would fall; and I sold out twenty thousand +pounds in order to a purchase: they have now risen unexpectedly; and I +make no doubt but at my return to London I shall risk thirty thousand +pounds among them again." + +A young man, who had hitherto distinguished himself only by the vivacity +of his looks, and a frequent diversion of his eyes from one object to +another, upon this closed his snuff-box, and told us that "he had a +hundred times talked with the chancellor and the judges on the subject +of the stocks; that for his part he did not pretend to be well +acquainted with the principles on which they were established, but had +always heard them reckoned pernicious to trade, uncertain in their +produce, and unsolid in their foundation; and that he had been advised +by three judges, his most intimate friends, never to venture his money +in the funds, but to put it out upon land security, till he could light +upon an estate in his own country." + +It might be expected, that upon these glimpses of latent dignity, we +should all have begun to look round us with veneration; and have behaved +like the princes of romance, when the enchantment that disguises them is +dissolved, and they discover the dignity of each other; yet it happened, +that none of these hints made much impression on the company; every one +was apparently suspected of endeavouring to impose false appearances +upon the rest; all continued their haughtiness in hopes to enforce their +claims; and all grew every hour more sullen, because they found their +representations of themselves without effect. + +Thus we travelled on four days with malevolence perpetually increasing, +and without any endeavour but to outvie each other in superciliousness +and neglect; and when any two of us could separate ourselves for a +moment we vented our indignation at the sauciness of the rest. + +At length the journey was at an end; and time and chance, that strip off +all disguises, have discovered that the intimate of lords and dukes is a +nobleman's butler, who has furnished a shop with the money he has saved; +the man who deals so largely in the funds, is the clerk of a broker in +Change-alley; the lady who so carefully concealed her quality, keeps a +cook-shop behind the Exchange; and the young man who is so happy in the +friendship of the judges, engrosses and transcribes for bread in a +garret of the Temple. Of one of the women only I could make no +disadvantageous detection, because she had assumed no character, but +accommodated herself to the scene before her, without any struggle for +distinction or superiority. + +I could not forbear to reflect on the folly of practising a fraud, +which, as the event showed, had been already practised too often to +succeed, and by the success of which no advantage could have been +obtained; of assuming a character, which was to end with the day; and of +claiming upon false pretences honours which must perish with the breath +that paid them. + +But, Mr. Adventurer, let not those who laugh at me and my companions, +think this folly confined to a stagecoach. Every man in the journey of +life takes the same advantage of the ignorance of his fellow travellers, +disguises himself in counterfeited merit, and hears those praises with +complacency which his conscience reproaches him for accepting. Every man +deceives himself while he thinks he is deceiving others; and forgets +that the time is at hand when every illusion shall cease, when +fictitious excellence shall be torn away, and _all_ must be shown to +_all_ in their realestate. + +I am, Sir, your humble servant, + +Viator. + +[1] Johnson has made impressive allusion to the immortal work of + Cervantes in his second Rambler. Every reflecting man must arise + from its perusal with feelings of the deepest melancholy, with the + most tender commiseration for the weakness and lot of humanity. To + such a man its moral must ever be "profoundly sad." Vulgar minds + cannot know it. Hence it has ever been the favorite with the + intellectual class, while Gil Blas has more generally won the + applause of men of the world. An amusing anecdote of the almost + universal admiration for the _chef d'oeuvre_ of Le Sage may be found + in Butler's Reminiscences. + + That bigotted, yet extraordinary man, Alva, predicted, with + prophetic precision, the effects which the satire on Chivalry would + produce in Spain. _See Broad Stone of Honour; or Rules for the + Gentlemen of England._ + + + + +No. 85 TUESDAY, AUGUST 28, 1753. + + _Qui studet optatam cursu contingere metam, + Multa tulit fecitque puer._ HOR. De Ar. Poet. 412. + + The youth, who hopes th' Olympic prize to gain, + All arts must try, and every toil sustain. FRANCIS. + +It is observed by Bacon, that "reading makes a full man, conversation a +ready man, and writing an exact man." + +As Bacon attained to degrees of knowledge scarcely ever reached by any +other man, the directions which he gives for study have certainly a just +claim to our regard; for who can teach an art with so great authority, +as he that has practised it with undisputed success? + +Under the protection of so great a name, I shall, therefore, venture to +inculcate to my ingenious contemporaries, the necessity of reading, the +fitness of consulting other understandings than their own, and of +considering the sentiments and opinions of those who, however neglected +in the present age, had in their own times, and many of them a long time +afterwards, such reputation for knowledge and acuteness as will scarcely +ever be attained by those that despise them. + +An opinion has of late been, I know not how, propagated among us, that +libraries are filled only with useless lumber; that men of parts stand +in need of no assistance; and that to spend life in poring upon books, +is only to imbibe prejudices, to obstruct and embarrass the powers of +nature, to cultivate memory at the expense of judgment, and to bury +reason under a chaos of indigested learning. + +Such is the talk of many who think themselves wise, and of some who are +thought wise by others; of whom part probably believe their own tenets, +and part may be justly suspected of endeavouring to shelter their +ignorance in multitudes, and of wishing to destroy that reputation which +they have no hopes to share. It will, I believe, be found invariably +true, that learning was never decried by any learned man; and what +credit can be given to those who venture to condemn that which they do +not know? + +If reason has the power ascribed to it by its advocates, if so much is +to be discovered by attention and meditation, it is hard to believe, +that so many millions, equally participating of the bounties of nature +with ourselves, have been for ages upon ages meditating in vain: if the +wits of the present time expect the regard of posterity, which will then +inherit the reason which is now thought superior to instruction, surely +they may allow themselves to be instructed by the reason of former +generations. When, therefore, an author declares, that he has been able +to learn nothing from the writings of his predecessors, and such a +declaration has been lately made, nothing but a degree of arrogance +unpardonable in the greatest human understanding, can hinder him from +perceiving that he is raising prejudices against his own performance; +for with what hopes of success can he attempt that in which greater +abilities have hitherto miscarried? or with what peculiar force does he +suppose himself invigorated, that difficulties hitherto invincible +should give way before him? + +Of those whom Providence has qualified to make any additions to human +knowledge, the number is extremely small; and what can be added by each +single mind, even of this superior class, is very little: the greatest +part of mankind must owe all their knowledge, and all must owe far the +larger part of it, to the information of others. To understand the works +of celebrated authors, to comprehend their systems, and retain their +reasonings, is a task more than equal to common intellects; and he is by +no means to be accounted useless or idle, who has stored his mind with +acquired knowledge, and can detail it occasionally to others who have +less leisure or weaker abilities. + +Persius has justly observed, that knowledge is nothing to him who is not +known by others to possess it[1]: to the scholar himself it is nothing +with respect either to honour or advantage, for the world cannot reward +those qualities which are concealed from it; with respect to others it +is nothing, because it affords no help to ignorance or errour. + +It is with justice, therefore, that in an accomplished character, Horace +unites just sentiments with the power of expressing them; and he that +has once accumulated learning, is next to consider, how he shall most +widely diffuse and most agreeably impart it. + +A ready man is made by conversation. He that buries himself among his +manuscripts, "besprent," as Pope expresses it, "with learned dust," and +wears out his days and nights in perpetual research and solitary +meditation, is too apt to lose in his elocution what he adds to his +wisdom; and when he comes into the world, to appear overloaded with his +own notions, like a man armed with weapons which he cannot wield. He has +no facility of inculcating his speculations, of adapting himself to the +various degrees of intellect which the accidents of conversation will +present; but will talk to most unintelligibly, and to all unpleasantly. + +I was once present at the lectures of a profound philosopher, a man +really skilled in the science which he professed, who having occasion to +explain the terms _opacum_ and _pellucidum_, told us, after some +hesitation, that _opacum_ was, as one might say, _opake_, and that +_pellucidum_ signified _pellucid_. Such was the dexterity with which +this learned reader facilitated to his auditors the intricacies of +science; and so true is it, that a man may know what he cannot teach. + +Boerhaave complains, that the writers who have treated of chymistry +before him, are useless to the greater part of students, because they +presuppose their readers to have such degrees of skill as are not often +to be found. Into the same errour are all men apt to fall, who have +familiarized any subject to themselves in solitude: they discourse, as +if they thought every other man had been employed in the same inquiries; +and expect that short hints and obscure allusions will produce in others +the same train of ideas which they excite in themselves. + +Nor is this the only inconvenience which the man of study suffers from a +recluse life. When he meets with an opinion that pleases him, he catches +it up with eagerness; looks only after such arguments as tend to his +confirmation; or spares himself the trouble of discussion, and adopts it +with very little proof; indulges it long without suspicion, and in time +unites it to the general body of his knowledge, and treasures it up +among incontestable truths: but when he comes into the world among men +who, arguing upon dissimilar principles, have been led to different +conclusions, and being placed in various situations, view the same +object on many sides; he finds his darling position attacked, and +himself in no condition to defend it: having thought always in one +train, he is in the state of a man who having fenced always with the +same master, is perplexed and amazed by a new posture of his antagonist; +he is entangled in unexpected difficulties, he is harassed by sudden +objections, he is unprovided with solutions or replies; his surprise +impedes his natural powers of reasoning, his thoughts are scattered and +confounded, and he gratifies the pride of airy petulance with an easy +victory. + +It is difficult to imagine, with what obstinacy truths which one mind +perceives almost by intuition, will be rejected by another; and how many +artifices must be practised, to procure admission for the most evident +propositions into understandings frighted by their novelty, or hardened +against them by accidental prejudice; it can scarcely be conceived, how +frequently, in these extemporaneous controversies, the dull will be +subtle, and the acute absurd; how often stupidity will elude the force +of argument, by involving itself in its own gloom; and mistaken +ingenuity will weave artful fallacies, which reason can scarcely find +means to disentangle. + +In these encounters the learning of the recluse usually fails him: +nothing but long habit and frequent experiments can confer the power of +changing a position into various forms, presenting it in different +points of view, connecting it with known and granted truths, fortifying +it with intelligible arguments, and illustrating it by apt similitudes; +and he, therefore, that has collected his knowledge in solitude, must +learn its application by mixing with mankind. + +But while the various opportunities of conversation invite us to try +every mode of argument, and every art of recommending our sentiments, we +are frequently betrayed to the use of such as are not in themselves +strictly defensible: a man heated in talk, and eager of victory, takes +advantage of the mistakes or ignorance of his adversary, lays hold of +concessions to which he knows he has no right, and urges proofs likely +to prevail on his opponent, though he knows himself that they have no +force: thus the severity of reason is relaxed, many topicks are +accumulated, but without just arrangement or distinction; we learn to +satisfy ourselves with such ratiocination as silences others; and seldom +recall to a close examination, that discourse which has gratified our +vanity with victory and applause. + +Some caution, therefore, must be used lest copiousness and facility be +made less valuable by inaccuracy and confusion. To fix the thoughts by +writing, and subject them to frequent examinations and reviews, is the +best method of enabling the mind to detect its own sophisms, and keep it +on guard against the fallacies which it practises on others: in +conversation we naturally diffuse our thoughts, and in writing we +contract them; method is the excellence of writing, and unconstraint the +grace of conversation. + +To read, write, and converse in due proportions, is, therefore, the +business of a man of letters. For all these there is not often equal +opportunity; excellence, therefore, is not often attainable; and most +men fail in one or other of the ends proposed, and are full without +readiness, or without exactness. Some deficiency must be forgiven all, +because all are men; and more must be allowed to pass uncensured in the +greater part of the world, because none can confer upon himself +abilities, and few have the choice of situations proper for the +improvement of those which nature has bestowed: it is, however, +reasonable to have _perfection_ in our eye; that we may always advance +towards it, though we know it never can be reached. + +[1] Scire tuum nihil est, nisi te scire hoc sciat alter. Sat. i. 27. + + + + +No. 92. SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 22, 1753. + + _Cum tabulis animum censoris sumet honesti._HOR. Lib. ii. Ep. it. 110. + + Bold be the critick, zealous to his trust, + Like the firm judge inexorably just. + +TO THE ADVENTURER. + +Sir, + +In the papers of criticism which you have given to the publick, I have +remarked a spirit of candour and love of truth equally remote from +bigotry and captiousness; a just distribution of praise amongst the +ancients and the moderns: a sober deference to reputation long +established, without a blind adoration of antiquity; and a willingness +to favour later performances, without a light or puerile fondness for +novelty. + +I shall, therefore, venture to lay before you, such observations as have +risen to my mind in the consideration of Virgil's pastorals, without any +inquiry how far my sentiments deviate from established rules or common +opinions. + +If we survey the ten pastorals in a general view, it will be found that +Virgil can derive from them very little claim to the praise of an +inventor. To search into the antiquity of this kind of poetry is not my +present purpose; that it has long subsisted in the east, the _Sacred +Writings_ sufficiently inform us; and we may conjecture, with great +probability, that it was sometimes the devotion, and sometimes the +entertainment of the first generations of mankind. Theocritus united +elegance with simplicity; and taught his shepherds to sing with so much +ease and harmony, that his countrymen, despairing to excel, forbore to +imitate him; and the Greeks, however vain or ambitious, left him in +quiet possession of the garlands which the wood-nymphs had bestowed upon +him. + +Virgil, however, taking advantage of another language, ventured to copy +or to rival the _Sicilian bard_: he has written with greater splendour +of diction, and elevation of sentiment: but as the magnificence of his +performances was more, the simplicity was less; and, perhaps, where he +excels Theocritus, he sometimes obtains his superiority by deviating +from the pastoral character, and performing what Theocritus never +attempted. + +Yet, though I would willingly pay to Theocritus the honour which is +always due to an original author, I am far from intending to depreciate +Virgil: of whom Horace justly declares, that the rural muses have +appropriated to him their elegance and sweetness, and who, as he copied +Theocritus in his design, has resembled him likewise in his success; +for, if we except Calphurnius, an obscure author of the lower ages, I +know not that a single pastoral was written after him by any poet, till +the revival of literature. + +But though his general merit has been universally acknowledged, I am far +from thinking all the productions of his rural Thalia equally excellent; +there is, indeed, in all his pastorals a strain of versification which +it is vain to seek in any other poet; but if we except the first and the +tenth, they seem liable either wholly or in part to considerable +objections. + +The second, though we should forget the great charge against it, which I +am afraid can never be refuted, might, I think, have perished, without +any diminution of the praise of its author; for I know not that it +contains one affecting sentiment or pleasing description, or one passage +that strikes the imagination or awakens the passions. + +The third contains a contest between two shepherds, begun with a quarrel +of which some particulars might well be spared, carried on with +sprightliness and elegance, and terminated at last in a reconciliation: +but, surely, whether the invectives with which they attack each other be +true or false, they are too much degraded from the dignity of pastoral +innocence; and instead of rejoicing that they are both victorious, I +should not have grieved could they have been both defeated. + +The poem to Pollio is, indeed, of another kind: it is filled with images +at once splendid and pleasing, and is elevated with grandeur of language +worthy of the first of Roman poets; but I am not able to reconcile +myself to the disproportion between the performance and the occasion +that produced it: that the golden age should return because Pollio had a +son, appears so wild a fiction, that I am ready to suspect the poet of +having written, for some other purpose, what he took this opportunity of +producing to the publick. + +The fifth contains a celebration of Daphnis, which has stood to all +succeeding ages as the model of pastoral elegies. To deny praise to a +performance which so many thousands have laboured to imitate, would be +to judge with too little deference for the opinion of mankind: yet +whoever shall read it with impartiality, will find that most of the +images are of the mythological kind, and therefore easily invented; and +that there are few sentiments of rational praise or natural lamentation. + +In the Silenus he again rises to the dignity of philosophick sentiments, +and heroick poetry. The address to Varus is eminently beautiful: but +since the compliment paid to Gallus fixes the transaction to his own +time, the fiction of Silenus seems injudicious: nor has any sufficient +reason yet been found, to justify his choice of those fables that make +the subject of the song. + +The seventh exhibits another contest of the tuneful shepherds: and, +surely, it is not without some reproach to his inventive power, that of +ten pastorals Virgil has written two upon the same plan. One of the +shepherds now gains an acknowledged victory, but without any apparent, +superiority, and the reader, when he sees the prize adjudged, is not +able to discover how it was deserved. + +Of the eighth pastoral, so little is properly the work of Virgil, that +he has no claim to other praise or blame, than that of a translator. + +Of the ninth, it is scarce possible to discover the design or tendency; +it is said, I know not upon what authority, to have been composed from +fragments of other poems; and except a few lines in which the author +touches upon his own misfortunes, there is nothing that seems +appropriated to any time or place, or of which any other use can be +discovered than to fill up the poem. + +The first and the tenth pastorals, whatever be determined of the rest, +are sufficient to place their author above the reach of rivalry. The +complaint of Gallus disappointed in his love, is full of such sentiments +as disappointed love naturally produces; his wishes are wild, his +resentment is tender, and his purposes are inconstant. In the genuine +language of despair, he soothes himself awhile with the pity that shall +be paid him after his death. + + _--Tamen cantabitis, Arcades, inquit, + Montibus haec vestris: soli cantare periti + Arcades. O mihi tum quam molliter ossa quiescant, + Vestra meos olim si fistula dicat amores!_ Virg. Ec. x. 31. + + --Yet, O Arcadian swains, + Ye best artificers of soothing strains! + Tune your soft reeds, and teach your rocks my woes, + So shall my shade in sweeter rest repose. + O that your birth and business had been mine; + To feed the flock, and prune the spreading vine! WARTON. + +Discontented with his present condition, and desirous to be any thing +but what he is, he wishes himself one of the shepherds. He then catches +the idea of rural tranquillity; but soon discovers how much happier he +should be in these happy regions, with Lycoris at his side: + + _Hic gelidi fontes, hic mollia prata, Lycori: + Hic nemus, hic ipso tecum consumerer aevo. + Nunc insanus amor duri me Martis in armis + Tela inter media atque adversos detinet hostes. + Tu procul a patria (nec sit mihi credere) tantum + Alpinas, ah dura, nives, et frigora Rheni + Me sine sola vides. Ah te ne frigora laedant! + Ah tibi ne teneras glacies secet aspera plantas!_ Ec. x. 42. + + Here cooling fountains roll through flow'ry meads, + Here woods, Lycoris, lift their verdant heads; + Here could I wear my careless life away, + And in thy arms insensibly decay. + Instead of that, me frantick love detains, + 'Mid foes, and dreadful darts, and bloody plains: + While you--and can my soul the tale believe, + Far from your country, lonely wand'ring leave + Me, me your lover, barbarous fugitive! + Seek the rough Alps where snows eternal shine, + And joyless borders of the frozen Rhine. + Ah! may no cold e'er blast my dearest maid, + Nor pointed ice thy tender feet invade. WARTON. + +He then turns his thoughts on every side, in quest of something that may +solace or amuse him: he proposes happiness to himself, first in one +scene and then in another: and at last finds that nothing will satisfy: + + _Jam neque Hamadryades rursum, nec carmina nobis + Ipsa placent: ipsae rursum concedite sylvae. + Non illum nostri possunt mutare labores; + Nec si frigoribus mediis Hebrumque bibamus, + Sithoniasque nives hyemis subeamus aquosae: + Nec si, cum moriens alta liber aret in ulmo + Aethiopum versemus oves sub sidere Cancri. + Omnia vincit amor; et nos cedamns amori._ Ec. x. 62. + + But now again no more the woodland maids, + Nor pastoral songs delight--Farewell, ye shades-- + No toils of ours the cruel god can change, + Tho' lost in frozen deserts we should range; + Tho' we should drink where chilling Hebrus flows, + Endure bleak winter blasts, and Thracian snows: + Or on hot India's plains our flocks should feed, + Where the parch'd elm declines his sickening head, + Beneath fierce-glowing Cancer's fiery beams, + Far from cool breezes and refreshing streams. + Love over all maintains resistless sway, + And let us love's all-conquering power obey. WARTON. + +But notwithstanding the excellence of the tenth pastoral, I cannot +forbear to give the preference to the first, which is equally natural +and more diversified. The complaint of the shepherd, who saw his old +companion at ease in the shade, while himself was driving his little +flock he knew not whither, is such as, with variation of circumstances, +misery always utters at the sight of prosperity: + + _Nos patriae fines, et dulcia linquimus arra; + Nos patrium fugimus: Tu, Tityre, lentus in umbra + Formosam resonare doces Amaryllida sylvas._ Ec. i. 3. + + We leave our country's bounds, our much-lov'd plains; + We from our country fly, unhappy swains! + You, Tit'rus, in the groves at leisure laid, + Teach Amaryllis' name to every shade. WARTON. + +His account of the difficulties of his journey, gives a very tender +image of pastoral distress: + + --_En ipse capellas + Protenus aeger ago: hanc etiam vix, Tityre, duco: + Hic inter densas corylos modo namque gemellos, + Spem gregis, ah! silice in nuda connixa reliquit._ Ec. i. 12. + + And lo! sad partner of the general care, + Weary and faint I drive my goats afar! + While scarcely this my leading hand sustains, + Tired with the way, and recent from her pains; + For 'mid yon tangled hazels as we past, + On the bare flints her hapless twin she cast, + The hopes and promise of my ruin'd fold! WARTON. + +The description of Virgil's happiness in his little farm, combines +almost all the images of rural pleasure; and he, therefore, that can +read it with indifference, has no sense of pastoral poetry: + + _Fortunate senex! ergo tua rura manebunt, + Et tibi magna satis; quamvis lapis omnia nudus, + Limosoque palus obducat pascua junco: + Non insueta graves tentabunt pabula foetas, + Nec mala vicini pecoris contagia laedent. + Fortunate senex! hic inter flumina nota, + Et fontes sacros, frigus captabis opacum. + Hinc tibi, quae semper vicino ab limite sepes, + Hyblaeis apibus florem depasta salicti, + Saepe levi somnum suadebit inire susurro. + Hinc alta sub rupe canet frondator ad auras. + Nec tamen interea raucae, tua cura, palumbes, + Nec gemere aëria cessabit turtur ab ulmo._ Ec. i. 47 + + Happy old man! then still thy farms restored, + Enough for thee, shall bless thy frugal board. + What tho' rough stones the naked soil o'erspread, + Or marshy bulrush rear its wat'ry head, + No foreign food thy teeming ewes shall fear, + No touch contagious spread its influence here. + Happy old man! here 'mid th' accustom'd streams + And sacred springs, you'll shun the scorching beams; + While from yon willow-fence, thy picture's bound, + The bees that suck their flow'ry stores around, + Shall sweetly mingle with the whispering boughs + Their lulling murmurs, and invite repose: + While from steep rocks the pruner's song is heard; + Nor the soft-cooing dove, thy fav'rite bird, + Meanwhile shall cease to breathe her melting strain, + Nor turtles from th' aërial elm to 'plain. WARTON. + +It may be observed, that these two poems were produced by events that +really happened; and may, therefore, be of use to prove, that we can +always feel more than we can imagine, and that the most artful fiction +must give way to truth. + +I am, Sir, +Your humble servant, + +DUBIUS. + + + + +No. 95. TUESDAY, OCTOBER 2, 1753. + + --_Dulcique animos novitate tenebo_. OVID. Met. iv. 284. + + And with sweet novelty your soul detain. + +It is often charged upon writers, that with all their pretensions to +genius and discoveries, they do little more than copy one another; and +that compositions obtruded upon the world with the pomp of novelty, +contain only tedious repetitions of common sentiments, or at best +exhibit a transposition of known images, and give a new appearance to +truth only by some slight difference of dress and decoration. + +The allegation of resemblance between authors is indisputably true; but +the charge of plagiarism, which is raised upon it, is not to be allowed +with equal readiness. A coincidence of sentiment may easily happen +without any communication, since there are many occasions in which all +reasonable men will nearly think alike. Writers of all ages have had the +same sentiments, because they have in all ages had the same objects of +speculation; the interests and passions, the virtues and vices of +mankind, have been diversified in different times, only by unessential +and casual varieties: and we must, therefore, expect in the works of all +those who attempt to describe them, such a likeness as we find in the +pictures of the same person drawn in different periods of his life. + +It is necessary, therefore, that before an author be charged with +plagiarism, one of the most reproachful, though, perhaps, not the most +atrocious of literary crimes, the subject on which he treats should be +carefully considered. We do not wonder, that historians, relating the +same facts, agree in their narration; or that authors, delivering the +elements of science, advance the same theorems, and lay down the same +definitions: yet it is not wholly without use to mankind, that books are +multiplied, and that different authors lay out their labours on the same +subject; for there will always be some reason why one should on +particular occasions, or to particular persons, be preferable to +another; some will be clear where others are obscure, some will please +by their style and others by their method, some by their embellishments +and others by their simplicity, some by closeness and others by +diffusion. + +The same indulgence is to be shown to the writers of morality: right and +wrong are immutable; and those, therefore, who teach us to distinguish +them, if they all teach us right, must agree with one another. The +relations of social life, and the duties resulting from them, must be +the same at all times and in all nations: some petty differences may be, +indeed, produced, by forms of government or arbitrary customs; but the +general doctrine can receive no alteration. + +Yet it is not to be desired, that morality should be considered as +interdicted to all future writers: men will always be tempted to deviate +from their duty, and will, therefore, always want a monitor to recall +them; and a new book often seizes the attention of the publick, without +any other claim than that it is new. There is likewise in composition, +as in other things, a perpetual vicissitude of fashion; and truth is +recommended at one time to regard, by appearances which at another would +expose it to neglect; the author, therefore, who has judgment to discern +the taste of his contemporaries, and skill to gratify it, will have +always an opportunity to deserve well of mankind, by conveying +instruction to them in a grateful vehicle. + +There are likewise many modes of composition, by which a moralist may +deserve the name of an original writer: he may familiarize his system by +dialogues after the manner of the ancients, or subtilize it into a +series of syllogistick arguments: he may enforce his doctrine by +seriousness and solemnity, or enliven it by sprightliness and gaiety: he +may deliver his sentiments in naked precepts, or illustrate them by +historical examples: he may detain the studious by the artful +concatenation of a continued discourse, or relieve the busy by short +strictures, and unconnected essays. + +To excel in any of these forms of writing will require a particular +cultivation of the genius: whoever can attain to excellence, will be +certain to engage a set of readers, whom no other method would have +equally allured; and he that communicates truth with success, must be +numbered among the first benefactors to mankind. + +The same observation may be extended likewise to the passions: their +influence is uniform, and their effects nearly the same in every human +breast: a man loves and hates, desires and avoids, exactly like his +neighbour; resentment and ambition, avarice and indolence, discover +themselves by the same symptoms in minds distant a thousand years from +one another. + +Nothing, therefore, can be more unjust, than to charge an author with +plagiarism, merely because he assigns to every cause its natural effect; +and makes his personages act, as others in like circumstances have +always done. There are conceptions in which all men will agree, though +each derives them from his own observation: whoever has been in love, +will represent a lover impatient of every idea that interrupts his +meditations on his mistress, retiring to shades and solitude, that he +may muse without disturbance on his approaching happiness, or +associating himself with some friend that flatters his passion, and +talking away the hours of absence upon his darling subject. Whoever has +been so unhappy as to have felt the miseries of long-continued hatred, +will, without any assistance from ancient volumes, be able to relate how +the passions are kept in perpetual agitation, by the recollection of +injury and meditations of revenge; how the blood boils at the name of +the enemy, and life is worn away in contrivances of mischief. + +Every other passion is alike simple and limited, if it be considered +only with regard to the breast which it inhabits; the anatomy of the +mind, as that of the body, must perpetually exhibit the same +appearances; and though by the continued industry of successive +inquirers, new movements will be from time to time discovered, they can +affect only the minuter parts, and are commonly of more curiosity than +importance. + +It will now be natural to inquire, by what arts are the writers of the +present and future ages to attract the notice; and favour of mankind. +They are to observe the alterations which time is always making in the +modes of life, that they may gratify every generation with a picture of +themselves. Thus love is uniform, but courtship is perpetually varying: +the different arts of gallantry, which beauty has inspired, would of +themselves be sufficient to fill a volume; sometimes balls and +serenades, sometimes tournaments and adventures, have been employed to +melt the hearts of ladies, who in another century have been sensible of +scarce any other merit than that of riches, and listened only to +jointures and pin-money. Thus the ambitious man has at all times been +eager of wealth and power; but these hopes have been gratified in some +countries by supplicating the people, and in others by flattering the +prince: honour in some states has been only the reward of military +achievements, in others it has been gained by noisy turbulence and +popular clamour. Avarice has worn a different form, as she actuated the +usurer of Rome, and the stock-jobber of England; and idleness itself, +how little soever inclined to the trouble of invention, has been forced +from time to time to change its amusements, and contrive different +methods of wearing out the day. + +Here then is the fund, from which those who study mankind may fill their +compositions with an inexhaustible variety of images and allusions: and +he must be confessed to look with little attention upon scenes thus +perpetually changing, who cannot catch some of the figures before they +are made vulgar by reiterated descriptions. + +It has been discovered by Sir Isaac Newton, that the distinct and +primogenial colours are only seven; but every eye can witness, that from +various mixtures, in various proportions, infinite diversifications of +tints may be produced. In like manner, the passions of the mind, which +put the world in motion, and produce all the bustle and eagerness of the +busy crowds that swarm upon the earth; the passions, from whence arise +all the pleasures and pains that we see and hear of, if we analyze the +mind of man, are very few; but those few agitated and combined, as +external causes shall happen to operate, and modified by prevailing +opinions and accidental caprices, make such frequent alterations on the +surface of life, that the show, while we are busied in delineating it, +vanishes from the view, and a new set of objects succeed, doomed to the +same shortness of duration with the former: thus curiosity may always +find employment, and the busy part of mankind will furnish the +contemplative with the materials of speculation to the end of time. + +The complaint, therefore, that all topicks are preoccupied, is nothing +more than the murmur of ignorance or idleness, by which some discourage +others, and some themselves; the mutability of mankind will always +furnish writers with new images, and the luxuriance of fancy may always +embellish them with new decorations. + + + + +No. 99. TUESDAY, OCTOBER 16, 1753. + + --_Magnis tamen excidit ausis_. OVID. Met. Lib. ii. 328. + + But in the glorious enterprise he died. ADDISON. + +It has always been the practice of mankind, to judge of actions by the +event. The same attempts, conducted in the same manner, but terminated +by different success, produce different judgments: they who attain their +wishes, never want celebrators of their wisdom and their virtue; and +they that miscarry, are quickly discovered to have been defective not +only in mental but in moral qualities. The world will never be long +without some good reason to hate the unhappy; their real faults are +immediately detected; and if those are not sufficient to sink them into +infamy, an additional weight of calumny will be superadded: he that +fails in his endeavours after wealth or power, will not long retain +either honesty or courage. + +This species of injustice has so long prevailed in universal practice, +that it seems likewise to have infected speculation: so few minds are +able to separate the ideas of greatness and prosperity, that even Sir +William Temple has determined, "that he who can deserve the name of a +hero, must not only be virtuous but fortunate." + +By this unreasonable distribution of praise and blame, none have +suffered oftener than projectors, whose rapidity of imagination and +vastness of design raise such envy in their fellow mortals, that every +eye watches for their fall, and every heart exults at their distresses: +yet even a projector may gain favour by success; and the tongue that was +prepared to hiss, then endeavours to excel others in loudness of +applause. + +When Coriolanus, in Shakespeare, deserted to Aufidius, the Volscian +servants at first insulted him, even while he stood under the protection +of the household gods: but when they saw that the project took effect, +and the stranger was seated at the head of the table, one of them very +judiciously observes, "that he always thought there was more in him than +he could think." + +Machiavel has justly animadverted on the different notice taken by all +succeeding times, of the two great projectors, Cataline and Cæsar. Both +formed the same project, and intended to raise themselves to power, by +subverting the commonwealth: they pursued their design, perhaps, with +equal abilities, and with equal virtue; but Cataline perished in the +field, and Cæsar returned from Pharsalia with unlimited authority: and +from that time, every monarch of the earth has thought himself honoured +by a comparison with Cæsar; and Cataline has been never mentioned, but +that his name might be applied to traitors and incendiaries. + +In an age more remote, Xerxes projected the conquest of Greece, and +brought down the power of Asia against it: but after the world had been +filled with expectation and terrour, his army was beaten, his fleet was +destroyed, and Xerxes has been never mentioned without contempt. + +A few years afterwards, Greece likewise had her turn of giving birth to +a projector; who invading Asia with a small army, went forward in search +of adventures, and by his escape from one danger, gained only more +rashness to rush into another: he stormed city after city, over-ran +kingdom after kingdom, fought battles only for barren victory, and +invaded nations only that he might make his way through them to new +invasions: but having been fortunate in the execution of his projects, +he died with the name of Alexander the Great. + +These are, indeed, events of ancient times; but human nature is always +the same, and every age will afford us instances of publick censures +influenced by events. The great business of the middle centuries, was +the holy war; which undoubtedly was a noble project, and was for a long +time prosecuted with a spirit equal to that with which it had been +contrived; but the ardour of the European heroes only hurried them to +destruction; for a long time they could not gain the territories for +which they fought, and, when at last gained, they could not keep them: +their expeditions, therefore, have been the scoff of idleness and +ignorance, their understanding and their virtue have been equally +vilified, their conduct has been ridiculed, and their cause has been +defamed. + +When Columbus had engaged king Ferdinand in the discovery of the other +hemisphere, the sailors, with whom he embarked in the expedition, had so +little confidence in their commander, that after having been long at sea +looking for coasts which they expected never to find, they raised a +general mutiny, and demanded to return. He found means to sooth them +into a permission to continue the same course three days longer, and on +the evening of the third day descried land. Had the impatience of his +crew denied him a few hours of the time requested, what had been his +fate but to have come back with the infamy of a vain projector, who had +betrayed the king's credulity to useless expenses, and risked his life +in seeking countries that had no existence? how would those that had +rejected his proposals have triumphed in their acuteness! and when would +his name have been mentioned, but with the makers of potable gold and +malleable glass? + +The last royal projectors with whom the world has been troubled, were +Charles of Sweden and the Czar of Muscovy. Charles, if any judgment may +be formed of his designs by his measures and his inquiries, had purposed +first to dethrone the Czar, then to lead his army through pathless +deserts into China, thence to make his way by the sword through the +whole circuit of Asia, and by the conquest of Turkey to unite Sweden +with his new dominions: but this mighty project was crushed at Pultowa; +and Charles has since been considered as a madman by those powers, who +sent their ambassadors to solicit his friendship, and their generals "to +learn under him the art of war." + +The Czar found employment sufficient in his own dominions, and amused +himself in digging canals, and building cities: murdering his subjects +with insufferable fatigues, and transplanting nations from one corner of +his dominions to another, without regretting the thousands that perished +on the way: but he attained his end, he made his people formidable, and +is numbered by fame among the demi-gods. + +I am far from intending to vindicate the sanguinary projects of heroes +and conquerors, and would wish rather to diminish the reputation of +their success, than the infamy of their miscarriages: for I cannot +conceive, why he that has burned cities, wasted nations, and filled the +world with horrour and desolation, should be more kindly regarded by +mankind, than he that died in the rudiments of wickedness; why he that +accomplished mischief should be glorious, and he that only endeavoured +it should be criminal. I would wish Cæsar and Catiline, Xerxes and +Alexander, Charles and Peter, huddled together in obscurity or +detestation. + +But there is another species of projectors, to whom I would willingly +conciliate mankind; whose ends are generally laudable, and whose labours +are innocent; who are searching out new powers of nature, or contriving +new works of art; but who are yet persecuted with incessant obloquy, and +whom the universal contempt with which they are treated, often debars +from that success which their industry would obtain, if it were +permitted to act without opposition. + +They who find themselves inclined to censure new undertakings, only +because they are new, should consider, that the folly of projection is +very seldom the folly of a fool; it is commonly the ebullition of a +capacious mind, crowded with variety of knowledge, and heated with +intenseness of thought; it proceeds often from the consciousness of +uncommon powers, from the confidence of those, who having already done +much, are easily persuaded that they can do more. When Rowley had +completed the orrery, he attempted the perpetual motion; when Boyle had +exhausted the secrets of vulgar chymistry, he turned his thoughts to the +work of transmutation[1]. + +A projector generally unites those qualities which have the fairest +claim to veneration, extent of knowledge and greatness of design; it was +said of Catiline, "_immoderata, incredibilia, nimis alta semper +cupiebat_." Projectors of all kinds agree in their intellects, though +they differ in their morals; they all fail by attempting things beyond +their power, by despising vulgar attainments, and aspiring to +performances to which, perhaps, nature has not proportioned the force of +man: when they fail, therefore, they fail not by idleness or timidity, +but by rash adventure and fruitless diligence. + +That the attempts of such men will often miscarry, we may reasonably +expect; yet from such men, and such only, are we to hope for the +cultivation of those parts of nature which lie yet waste, and the +invention of those arts which are yet wanting to the felicity of life. +If they are, therefore, universally discouraged, art and discovery can +make no advances. Whatever is attempted without previous certainty of +success, may be considered as a project, and amongst narrow minds may, +therefore, expose its author to censure and contempt; and if the liberty +of laughing be once indulged, every man will laugh at what he does not +understand, every project will be considered as madness, and every great +or new design will be censured as a project. Men unaccustomed to reason +and researches, think every enterprise impracticable, which is extended +beyond common effects, or comprises many intermediate operations. Many +that presume to laugh at projectors, would consider a flight through the +air in a winged chariot, and the movement of a mighty engine by the +steam of water as equally the dreams of mechanick lunacy; and would +hear, with equal negligence, of the union of the Thames and Severn by a +canal, and the scheme of Albuquerque, the viceroy of the Indies, who in +the rage of hostility had contrived to make Egypt a barren desert, by +turning the Nile into the Red Sea. + +Those who have attempted much, have seldom failed to perform more than +those who never deviate from the common roads of action: many valuable +preparations of chymistry are supposed to have risen from unsuccessful +inquiries after the grand elixir: it is, therefore, just to encourage +those who endeavour to enlarge the power of art, since they often +succeed beyond expectation; and when they fail, may sometimes benefit +the world even by their miscarriages. + +[1] Sir Richard Steele was infatuated, with notions of Alchemy, and + wasted money in its visionary projects. He had a laboratory at + Poplar. Addisoniana, vol i. p. 10. + + The readers of Washington Irving's Brace-Bridge Hall will recollect + a pleasing and popular exposition of the alternately splendid and + benevolent, and always passionate reveries of the Alchemist, in the + affecting story of the Student of Salamanca. + + + + +No. 102. SATURDAY, OCTOBER 27, 1753. + + --_Quid tam dextro pede concipis, ut te + Conatus non poeniteat votique peracti?_ JUV. Sat. x. 5. + + What in the conduct of our life appears + So well design'd, so luckily begun, + But when we have our wish, we wish undone. DRYDEN. + +TO THE ADVENTURER. + +Sir, + +I have been for many years a trader in London. My beginning was narrow, +and my stock small; I was, therefore, a long time brow-beaten and +despised by those, who, having more money, thought they had more merit +than myself. I did not, however, suffer my resentment to instigate me to +any mean arts of supplantation, nor my eagerness of riches to betray me +to any indirect methods of gain; I pursued my business with incessant +assiduity, supported by the hope of being one day richer than those who +contemned me; and had, upon every annual review of my books, the +satisfaction of finding my fortune increased beyond my expectation. + +In a few years my industry and probity were fully recompensed, my wealth +was really great, and my reputation for wealth still greater. I had +large warehouses crowded with goods, and considerable sums in the +publick funds; I was caressed upon the Exchange by the most eminent +merchants; became the oracle of the common council; was solicited to +engage in all commercial undertakings; was flattered with the hopes of +becoming in a short time one of the directors of a wealthy company, and, +to complete my mercantile honours, enjoyed the expensive happiness of +fining for sheriff. + +Riches, you know, easily produce riches; when I had arrived to this +degree of wealth, I had no longer any obstruction or opposition to fear; +new acquisitions were hourly brought within my reach, and I continued +for some years longer to heap thousands upon thousands. + +At last I resolved to complete the circle of a citizen's prosperity by +the purchase of an estate in the country, and to close my life in +retirement. From the hour that this design entered my imagination, I +found the fatigues of my employment every day more oppressive, and +persuaded myself that I was no longer equal to perpetual attention, and +that my health would soon be destroyed by the torment and distraction of +extensive business. I could image to myself no happiness, but in vacant +jollity, and uninterrupted leisure: nor entertain my friends with any +other topick than the vexation and uncertainty of trade, and the +happiness of rural privacy. + +But, notwithstanding these declarations, I could not at once reconcile +myself to the thoughts of ceasing to get money; and though I was every +day inquiring for a purchase, I found some reason for rejecting all that +were offered me; and, indeed, had accumulated so many beauties and +conveniencies in my idea of the spot where I was finally to be happy, +that, perhaps, the world might have been travelled over without +discovery of a place which would not have been defective in some +particular. + +Thus I went on, still talking of retirement, and still refusing to +retire; my friends began to laugh at my delays, and I grew ashamed to +trifle longer with my own inclinations; an estate was at length +purchased, I transferred my stock to a prudent young man who had married +my daughter, went down into the country, and commenced lord of a +spacious manor. + +Here for some time I found happiness equal to my expectation. I reformed +the old house according to the advice of the best architects, I threw +down the walls of the garden, and enclosed it with palisades, planted +long avenues of trees, filled a green-house with exotick plants, dug a +new canal, and threw the earth into the old moat. + +The fame of these expensive improvements brought in all the country to +see the show. I entertained my visitors with great liberality, led them +round my gardens, showed them my apartments, laid before them plans for +new decorations, and was gratified by the wonder of some and the envy of +others. + +I was envied: but how little can one man judge of the condition of +another! The time was now coming, in which affluence and splendour could +no longer make me pleased with myself. I had built till the imagination +of the architect was exhausted; I had added one convenience to another, +till I knew not what more to wish or to design; I had laid out my +gardens, planted my park, and completed my water-works; and what now +remained to be done? what, but to look up to turrets, of which when they +were once raised I had no further use, to range over apartments where +time was tarnishing the furniture, to stand by the cascade of which I +scarcely now perceived the sound, and to watch the growth of woods that +must give their shade to a distant generation. + +In this gloomy inactivity, is every day begun and ended: the happiness +that I have been so long procuring is now at an end, because it has been +procured; I wander from room to room, till I am weary of myself; I ride +out to a neighbouring hill in the centre of my estate, from whence all +my lands lie in prospect round me; I see nothing that I have not seen +before, and return home disappointed, though I knew that I had nothing +to expect. + +In my happy days of business I had been accustomed to rise early in the +morning; and remember the time when I grieved that the night came so +soon upon me, and obliged me for a few hours to shut out affluence and +prosperity. I now seldom see the rising sun, but to "tell him," with the +fallen angel, "how I hate his beams[1]." I awake from sleep as to +languor or imprisonment, and have no employment for the first hour but +to consider by what art I shall rid myself of the second. I protract the +breakfast as long as I can, because when it is ended I have no call for +my attention, till I can with some degree of decency grow impatient for +my dinner. If I could dine all my life, I should be happy; I eat not +because I am hungry, but because I am idle: but, alas! the time quickly +comes when I can eat no longer; and so ill does my constitution second +my inclination, that I cannot bear strong liquors: seven hours must then +be endured before I shall sup; but supper comes at last, the more +welcome as it is in a short time succeeded by sleep. + +Such, Mr. Adventurer, is the happiness, the hope of which seduced me +from the duties and pleasures of a mercantile life. I shall be told by +those who read my narrative, that there are many means of innocent +amusement, and many schemes of useful employment, which I do not appear +ever to have known; and that nature and art have provided pleasures, by +which, without the drudgery of settled business, the active may be +engaged, the solitary soothed, and the social entertained. + +These arts, Sir, I have tried. When first I took possession of my +estate, in conformity to the taste of my neighbours, I bought guns and +nets, filled my kennel with dogs, and my stable with horses: but a +little experience showed me, that these instruments of rural felicity +would afford me few gratifications. I never shot but to miss the mark, +and, to confess the truth, was afraid of the fire of my own gun. I could +discover no musick in the cry of the dogs, nor could divest myself of +pity for the animal whose peaceful and inoffensive life was sacrificed +to our sport. I was not, indeed, always at leisure to reflect upon her +danger; for my horse, who had been bred to the chase, did not always +regard my choice either of speed or way, but leaped hedges and ditches +at his own discretion, and hurried me along with the dogs, to the great +diversion of my brother sportsmen. His eagerness of pursuit once incited +him to swim a river; and I had leisure to resolve in the water, that I +would never hazard my life again for the destruction of a hare. + +I then ordered books to be procured, and by the direction of the vicar +had in a few weeks a closet elegantly furnished. You will, perhaps, be +surprised when I shall tell you, that when once I had ranged them +according to their sizes, and piled them up in regular gradations, I had +received all the pleasure which they could give me. I am not able to +excite in myself any curiosity after events which have been long passed, +and in which I can, therefore, have no interest; I am utterly +unconcerned to know whether Tully or Demosthenes excelled in oratory, +whether Hannibal lost Italy by his own negligence or the corruption of +his countrymen. I have no skill in controversial learning, nor can +conceive why so many volumes should have been written upon questions, +which I have lived so long and so happily without understanding. I once +resolved to go through the volumes relating to the office of justice of +the peace, but found them so crabbed and intricate, that in less than a +month I desisted in despair, and resolved to supply my deficiencies by +paying a competent salary to a skilful clerk. + +I am naturally inclined to hospitality, and for some time kept up a +constant intercourse of visits with the neighbouring gentlemen; but +though they are easily brought about me by better wine than they can +find at any other house, I am not much relieved by their conversation; +they have no skill in commerce or the stocks, and I have no knowledge of +the history of families or the factions of the country; so that when the +first civilities are over, they usually talk to one another, and I am +left alone in the midst of the company. Though I cannot drink myself, I +am obliged to encourage the circulation of the glass; their mirth grows +more turbulent and obstreperous; and before their merriment is at an +end, I am sick with disgust, and, perhaps, reproached with my sobriety, +or by some sly insinuations insulted as a cit. + +Such, Mr. Adventurer, is the life to which I am condemned by a foolish +endeavour to be happy by imitation; such is the happiness to which I +pleased myself with approaching, and which I considered as the chief end +of my cares and my labours. I toiled year after year with cheerfulness, +in expectation of the happy hour in which I might be idle: the privilege +of idleness is attained, but has not brought with it the blessing of +tranquillity. + +I am yours, &c. +MERCATOR. + + +[1] Johnson was too apt to destroy the _keeping_ of character in his + correspondences. A retired trader might desire a little more + slumber, "a little folding of the hands to sleep;" but the lofty + malignity of a fallen spirit sickening at the beams of day, would + not be among the feelings of an ordinary mind. Some good remarks on + this point may be seen in Miss Talbot's Letters to Mrs. Carter. + + + + +No. 107. TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 13, 1753. + + --_Sub judice lis est._ HOR. De Ar. Poet. 78. + + And of their vain disputings find no end. FRANCIS. + +It has been sometimes asked by those who find the appearance of wisdom +more easily attained by questions than solutions, how it comes to pass, +that the world is divided by such difference of opinion? and why men, +equally reasonable, and equally lovers of truth, do not always think in +the same manner? + +With regard to simple propositions, where the terms are understood, and +the whole subject is comprehended at once, there is such an uniformity +of sentiment among all human beings, that, for many ages, a very +numerous set of notions were supposed to be innate, or necessarily +co-existent with the faculty of reason: it being imagined, that universal +agreement could proceed only from the invariable dictates of the +universal parent. + +In questions diffuse and compounded, this similarity of determination is +no longer to be expected. At our first sally into the intellectual +world, we all march together along one straight and open road; but as we +proceed further, and wider prospects open to our view, every eye fixes +upon a different scene; we divide into various paths, and, as we move +forward, are still at a greater distance from each other. As a question +becomes more complicated and involved, and extends to a greater number +of relations, disagreement of opinion will always be multiplied; not +because we are irrational, but because we are finite beings, furnished +with different kinds of knowledge, exerting different degrees of +attention, one discovering consequences which escape another, none +taking in the whole concatenation of causes and effects, and most +comprehending but a very small part, each comparing what he observes +with a different criterion, and each referring it to a different +purpose. + +Where, then, is the wonder, that they who see only a small part should +judge erroneously of the whole? or that they, who see different and +dissimilar parts, should judge differently from each other? + +Whatever has various respects, must have various appearances of good and +evil, beauty or deformity; thus, the gardener tears up as a weed, the +plant which the physician gathers as a medicine; and "a general," says +Sir Kenelm Digby, "will look with pleasure over a plain, as a fit place +on which the fate of empires might be decided in battle, which the +farmer will despise as bleak and barren, neither fruitful of pasturage, +nor fit for tillage[1]." + +Two men examining the same question proceed commonly like the physician +and gardener in selecting herbs, or the farmer and hero looking on the +plain; they bring minds impressed with different notions, and direct +their inquiries to different ends; they form, therefore, contrary +conclusions, and each wonders at the other's absurdity. + +We have less reason to be surprised or offended when we find others +differ from us in opinion, because we very often differ from ourselves. +How often we alter our minds, we do not always remark; because the +change is sometimes made imperceptibly and gradually, and the last +conviction effaces all memory of the former: yet every man, accustomed +from time to time to take a survey of his own notions, will by a slight +retrospection be able to discover, that his mind has suffered many +revolutions; that the same things have in the several parts of his life +been condemned and approved, pursued and shunned: and that on many +occasions, even when his practice has been steady, his mind has been +wavering, and he has persisted in a scheme of action, rather because he +feared the censure of inconstancy, than because he was always pleased +with his own choice. + +Of the different faces shown by the same objects, as they are viewed on +opposite sides, and of the different inclinations which they must +constantly raise in him that contemplates them, a more striking example +cannot easily be found than two Greek epigrammatists will afford us in +their accounts of human life, which I shall lay before the reader in +English prose. + +Posidippus, a comick poet, utters this complaint: "Through which of the +paths of life is it eligible to pass? In public assemblies are debates +and troublesome affairs: domestick privacies are haunted with anxieties; +in the country is labour; on the sea is terrour: in a foreign land, he +that has money must live in fear, he that wants it must pine in +distress: are you married? you are troubled with suspicions; are you +single? you languish in solitude; children occasion toil, and a +childless life is a state of destitution: the time of youth is a time of +folly, and gray hairs are loaded with infirmity. This choice only, +therefore, can be made, either never to receive being, or immediately to +lose it[2]." + +Such and so gloomy is the prospect, which Posidippus has laid before us. +But we are not to acquiesce too hastily in his determination against the +value of existence: for Metrodorus, a philosopher of Athens, has shown, +that life has pleasures as well as pains; and having exhibited the +present state of man in brighter colours, draws with equal appearance of +reason, a contrary conclusion. + +"You may pass well through any of the paths of life. In publick +assemblies are honours and transactions of wisdom; in domestick privacy +is stillness and quiet: in the country are the beauties of nature; on +the sea is the hope of gain: in a foreign land, he that is rich is +honoured, he that is poor may keep his poverty secret: are you married? +you have a cheerful house; are you single? you are unincumbered; +children are objects of affection, to be without children is to be +without care: the time of youth is the time of vigour, and gray hairs +are made venerable by piety. It will, therefore, never be a wise man's +choice, either not to obtain existence, or to lose it; for every state +of life has its felicity." + +In these epigrams are included most of the questions which have engaged +the speculations of the inquirers after happiness; and though they will +not much assist our determinations, they may, perhaps, equally promote +our quiet, by showing that no absolute determination ever can be formed. + +Whether a publick station or private life be desirable, has always been +debated. We see here both the allurements and discouragements of civil +employments; on one side there is trouble, on the other honour; the +management of affairs is vexatious and difficult, but it is the only +duty in which wisdom can be conspicuously displayed: it must then still +be left to every man to choose either ease or glory; nor can any general +precept be given, since no man can be happy by the prescription of +another. + +Thus, what is said of children by Posidippus, "that they are occasions +of fatigue," and by Metrodorus, "that they are objects of affection," is +equally certain; but whether they will give most pain or pleasure, must +depend on their future conduct and dispositions, on many causes over +which the parent can have little influence: there is, therefore, room +for all the caprices of imagination, and desire must be proportioned to +the hope or fear that shall happen to predominate. + +Such is the uncertainty in which we are always likely to remain with +regard to questions wherein we have most interest, and which every day +affords us fresh opportunity to examine: we may examine, indeed, but we +never can decide, because our faculties are unequal to the subject; we +see a little, and form an opinion; we see more, and change it. + +This inconstancy and unsteadiness, to which we must so often find +ourselves liable, ought certainly to teach us moderation and forbearance +towards those who cannot accommodate themselves to our sentiments: if +they are deceived, we have no right to attribute their mistake to +obstinacy or negligence, because we likewise have been mistaken; we may, +perhaps, again change our own opinion: and what excuse shall we be able +to find for aversion and malignity conceived against him, whom we shall +then find to have committed no fault, and who offended us only by +refusing to follow us into errour? + +It may likewise contribute to soften that resentment which pride +naturally raises against opposition, if we consider, that he who differs +from us, does not always contradict us; he has one view of an object, +and we have another; each describes what he sees with equal fidelity, +and each regulates his steps by his own eyes: one man with Posidippus, +looks on celibacy as a state of gloomy solitude, without a partner in +joy, or a comforter in sorrow; the other considers it, with Metrodorus, +as a state free from incumbrances, in which a man is at liberty to +choose his own gratifications, to remove from place to place in quest of +pleasure, and to think of nothing but merriment and diversion: full of +these notions one hastens to choose a wife, and the other laughs at his +rashness, or pities his ignorance; yet it is possible that each is +right, but that each is right only for himself. + +Life is not the object of science: we see a little, very little; and +what is beyond we only can conjecture. If we inquire of those who have +gone before us, we receive small satisfaction; some have travelled life +without observation, and some willingly mislead us. The only thought, +therefore, on which we can repose with comfort, is that which presents +to us the care of Providence, whose eye takes in the whole of things, +and under whose direction all involuntary errours will terminate in +happiness. + + +[1] Livy has described the Achaean leader, Philopaemen, as actually so + exercising his thoughts whilst he wandered among the rocky passes of + the Morea, xxxv. 28. In the graphic page of the Roman historian, as + in the stanzas of the "Ariosto of the North:" + + "From shingles grey the lances start, + The bracken bush sends forth the dart, + The rushes and the willow wand + Are bristling into axe and brand." + Lady of the Lake, Canto v. 9. + +[2] + "Count o'er the joys thine hours have seen, + Count o'er thy days from anguish free, + And know, whatever thou hast been, + 'Tis something better not to be." + Lord Byron's Euthanasia. + + Compare also the plaintive chorus in the Oedipus at Colonos, 1211. + Among the tragedies of Sophocles this stands forth a mass of + feeling. See Schlegel's remarks upon it in his Dramatic Literature. + + + + +No. 108. SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 17, 1753. + + _Nobis, quum semet occidit brevis lux, + Nox est perpetua una dormienda._ CATULLUS. Lib. v. El. v. + + When once the short-liv'd mortal dies, + A night eternal seals his eyes. ADDISON. + +It may have been observed by every reader, that there are certain +topicks which never are exhausted. Of some images and sentiments the +mind of man may be said to be enamoured; it meets them, however often +they occur, with the same ardour which a lover feels at the sight of his +mistress, and parts from them with the same regret when they can no +longer be enjoyed. + +Of this kind are many descriptions which the poets have transcribed from +each other, and their successors will probably copy to the end of time; +which will continue to engage, or, as the French term it, to flatter the +imagination, as long as human nature shall remain the same. + +When a poet mentions the spring, we know that the zephyrs are about to +whisper, that the groves are to recover their verdure, the linnets to +warble forth their notes of love, and the flocks and herds to frisk over +vales painted with flowers: yet, who is there so insensible of the +beauties of nature, so little delighted with the renovation of the +world, as not to feel his heart bound at the mention of the spring? + +When night overshadows a romantick scene, all is stillness, silence, and +quiet; the poets of the grove cease their melody, the moon towers over +the world in gentle majesty, men forget their labours and their cares, +and every passion and pursuit is for a while suspended. All this we know +already, yet we hear it repeated without weariness; because such is +generally the life of man, that he is pleased to think on the time when +he shall pause from a sense of his condition. + +When a poetical grove invites us to its covert, we know that we shall +find what we have already seen, a limpid brook murmuring over pebbles, a +bank diversified with flowers, a green arch that excludes the sun, and a +natural grot shaded with myrtles; yet who can forbear to enter the +pleasing gloom to enjoy coolness and privacy, and gratify himself once +more by scenes with which nature has formed him to be delighted? + +Many moral sentiments likewise are so adapted to our state, that they +find approbation whenever they solicit it, and are seldom read without +exciting a gentle emotion in the mind: such is the comparison of the +life of man with the duration of a flower, a thought which perhaps every +nation has heard warbled in its own language, from the inspired poets of +the Hebrews to our own times; yet this comparion must always please, +because every heart feels its justness, and every hour confirms it by +example. + +Such, likewise, is the precept that directs us to use the present hour, +and refer nothing to a distant time, which we are uncertain whether we +shall reach: this every moralist may venture to inculcate, because it +will always be approved, and because it is always forgotten. + +This rule is, indeed, every day enforced, by arguments more powerful +than the dissertations of moralists: we see men pleasing themselves with +future happiness, fixing a certain hour for the completion of their +wishes, and perishing, some at a greater and some at a less distance +from the happy time; all complaining of their disappointments, and +lamenting that they had suffered the years which heaven allowed them, to +pass without improvement, and deferred the principal purpose of their +lives to the time when life itself was to forsake them. + +It is not only uncertain, whether, through all the casualties and +dangers which beset the life of man, we shall be able to reach the time +appointed for happiness or wisdom; but it is likely, that whatever now +hinders us from doing that which our reason and conscience declare +necessary to be done, will equally obstruct us in times to come. It is +easy for the imagination, operating on things not yet existing, to +please itself with scenes of unmingled felicity, or plan out courses of +uniform virtue; but good and evil are in real life inseparably united; +habits grow stronger by indulgence; and reason loses her dignity, in +proportion as she has oftener yielded to temptation: "he that cannot +live well to-day," says Martial, "will be less qualified to live well +to-morrow." + +Of the uncertainty of every human good, every human being seems to be +convinced; yet this uncertainty is voluntarily increased by unnecessary +delay, whether we respect external causes, or consider the nature of our +own minds. He that now feels a desire to do right, and wishes to +regulate his life according to his reason, is not sure that, at any +future time assignable, he shall be able to rekindle the same ardour; he +that has now an opportunity offered him of breaking loose from vice and +folly, cannot know, but that he shall hereafter be more entangled, and +struggle for freedom without obtaining it. + +We are so unwilling to believe any thing to our own disadvantage, that +we will always imagine the perspicacity of our judgment and the strength +of our resolution more likely to increase than to grow less by time; +and, therefore, conclude, that the will to pursue laudable purposes, +will be always seconded by the power. + +But, however we may be deceived in calculating the strength of our +faculties, we cannot doubt the uncertainty of that life in which they +must be employed: we see every day the unexpected death of our friends +and our enemies, we see new graves hourly opened for men older and +younger than ourselves, for the cautious and the careless, the dissolute +and the temperate, for men who like us were providing to enjoy or +improve hours now irreversibly cut off: we see all this, and yet, +instead of living, let year glide after year in preparations to live. + +Men are so frequently cut off in the midst of their projections, that +sudden death causes little emotion in them that behold it, unless it be +impressed upon the attention by uncommon circumstances. I, like every +other man, have outlived multitudes, have seen ambition sink in its +triumphs, and beauty perish in its bloom; but have been seldom so much +affected as by the fate of Euryalus, whom I lately lost as I began to +love him. + +Euryalus had for some time flourished in a lucrative profession; but +having suffered his imagination to be fired by an unextinguishable +curiosity, he grew weary of the same dull round of life, resolved to +harass himself no longer with the drudgery of getting money, but to quit +his business and his profit, and enjoy for a few years the pleasures of +travel. His friends heard him proclaim his resolution without suspecting +that he intended to pursue it; but he was constant to his purpose, and +with great expedition closed his accounts and sold his moveables, passed +a few days in bidding farewell to his companions, and with all the +eagerness of romantick chivalry crossed the sea in search of happiness. +Whatever place was renowned in ancient or modern history, whatever +region art or nature had distinguished, he determined to visit: full of +design and hope he lauded on the continent; his friends expected +accounts from him of the new scenes that opened in his progress, but +were informed in a few days, that Euryalus was dead. + +Such was the end of Euryalus. He is entered that state, whence none ever +shall return; and can now only benefit his friends, by remaining to +their memories a permanent and efficacious instance of the blindness of +desire, and the uncertainty of all terrestrial good. But perhaps, every +man has like me lost an Euryalus, has known a friend die with happiness +in his grasp; and yet every man continues to think himself secure of +life, and defers to some future time of leisure what he knows it will be +fatal to have finally omitted. + +It is, indeed, with this as with other frailties inherent in our nature; +the desire of deferring to another time, what cannot be done without +endurance of some pain, or forbearance of some pleasure, will, perhaps, +never be totally overcome or suppressed; there will always be something +that we shall wish to have finished, and be nevertheless unwilling to +begin: but against this unwillingness it is our duty to struggle, and +every conquest over our passions will make way for an easier conquest: +custom is equally forcible to bad and good; nature will always be at +variance with reason, but will rebel more feebly as she is oftener +subdued. + +The common neglect of the present hour is more shameful and criminal, as +no man is betrayed to it by errour, but admits it by negligence. Of the +instability of life, the weakest understanding never thinks wrong, +though the strongest often omits to think justly: reason and experience +are always ready to inform us of our real state; but we refuse to listen +to their suggestions, because we feel our hearts unwilling to obey them: +but, surely, nothing is more unworthy of a reasonable being, than to +shut his eyes, when he sees the road which he is commanded to travel, +that he may deviate with fewer reproaches from himself: nor could any +motive to tenderness, except the consciousness that we have all been +guilty of the same fault, dispose us to pity those who thus consign +themselves to voluntary ruin. + + + + +No. 111. TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 27, 1753. + + --Quae non fecimus ipsi, + Vix ea nostra voco. OVID. + + The deeds of long descended ancestors + Are but by grace of imputation ours. DRYDEN + +The evils inseparably annexed to the present condition of man, are so +numerous and afflictive, that it has been, from age to age, the task of +some to bewail, and of others to solace them; and he, therefore, will be +in danger of seeing a common enemy, who shall attempt to depreciate the +few pleasures and felicities which nature has allowed us. + +Yet I will confess, that I have sometimes employed my thoughts in +examining the pretensions that are made to happiness, by the splendid +and envied condition of life; and have not thought the hour unprofitably +spent, when I have detected the imposture of counterfeit advantages, and +found disquiet lurking under false appearances of gaiety and greatness. + +It is asserted by a tragick poet, that _est miser nemo nisi comparatus_, +"no man is miserable, but as he is compared with others happier than +himself:" this position is not strictly and philosophically true. He +might have said, with rigorous propriety, that no man is happy but as he +is compared with the miserable; for such is the state of this world, +that we find in it absolute misery, but happiness only comparative; we +may incur as much pain as we can possibly endure, though we can never +obtain as much happiness as we might possibly enjoy. + +Yet it is certain, likewise, that many of our miseries are merely +comparative: we are often made unhappy, not by the presence of any real +evil, but by the absence of some fictitious good; of something which is +not required by any real want of nature, which has not in itself any +power of gratification, and which neither reason nor fancy would have +prompted us to wish, did we not see it in the possession of others. + +For a mind diseased with vain longings after unattainable advantages, no +medicine can be prescribed, but an impartial inquiry into the real worth +of that which is so ardently desired. It is well known, how much the +mind, as well as the eye, is deceived by distance; and, perhaps, it will +be found, that of many imagined blessings it may be doubted, whether he +that wants or possesses them has more reason to be satisfied with his +lot. + +The dignity of high birth and long extraction, no man, to whom nature +has denied it, can confer upon himself; and, therefore, it deserves to +be considered, whether the want of that which can never be gained, may +not easily be endured. It is true, that if we consider the triumph and +delight with which most of those recount their ancestors, who have +ancestors to recount, and the artifices by which some who have risen to +unexpected fortune endeavour to insert themselves into an honourable +stem, we shall be inclined to fancy that wisdom or virtue may be had by +inheritance, or that all the excellencies of a line of progenitors are +accumulated on their descendant. Reason, indeed, will soon inform us, +that our estimation of birth is arbitrary and capricious, and that dead +ancestors can have no influence but upon imagination; let it then be +examined, whether one dream may not operate in the place of another; +whether he that owes nothing to forefathers, may not receive equal +pleasure from the consciousness of owing all to himself; whether he may +not, with a little meditation, find it more honourable to found than to +continue a family, and to gain dignity than transmit it; whether, if he +receives no dignity from the virtues of his family, he does not likewise +escape the danger of being disgraced by their crimes; and whether he +that brings a new name into the world, has not the convenience of +playing the game of life without a stake, and opportunity of winning +much though he has nothing to lose. + +There is another opinion concerning happiness, which approaches much +more nearly to universality, but which may, perhaps, with equal reason +be disputed. The pretensions to ancestral honours many of the sons of +earth easily see to be ill-grounded; but all agree to celebrate the +advantage of hereditary riches, and to consider those as the minions of +fortune, who are wealthy from their cradles, whose estate is _res non +parta labore, sed relicta_; "the acquisition of another, not of +themselves;" and whom a father's industry has dispensed from a laborious +attention to arts or commerce, and left at liberty to dispose of life as +fancy shall direct them. + +If every man were wise and virtuous, capable to discern the best use of +time, and resolute to practise it, it might be granted, I think, without +hesitation, that total liberty would be a blessing; and that it would be +desirable to be left at large to the exercise of religious and social +duties, without the interruption of importunate avocations. + +But, since felicity is relative, and that which is the means of +happiness to one man may be to another the cause of misery, we are to +consider, what state is best adapted to human nature in its present +degeneracy and frailty. And, surely, to far the greater number it is +highly expedient, that they should by some settled scheme of duties be +rescued from the tyranny of caprice, that they should be driven on by +necessity through the paths of life with their attention confined to a +stated task, that they may be less at leisure to deviate into mischief +at the call of folly. + +When we observe the lives of those whom an ample inheritance has let +loose to their own direction, what do we discover that can excite our +envy? Their time seems not to pass with much applause from others, or +satisfaction to themselves: many squander their exuberance of fortune in +luxury and debauchery, and have no other use of money than to inflame +their passions, and riot in a wide range of licentiousness; others, less +criminal indeed, but surely not much to be praised, lie down to sleep, +and rise up to trifle, are employed every morning in finding expedients +to rid themselves of the day, chase pleasure through all the places of +publick resort, fly from London to Bath, and from Bath to London, +without any other reason for changing place, but that they go in quest +of company as idle and as vagrant as themselves, always endeavouring to +raise some new desire, that they may have something to pursue, to +rekindle some hope which they know will be disappointed, changing one +amusement for another which a few months will make equally insipid, or +sinking into languor and disease for want of something to actuate their +bodies or exhilarate their minds. + +Whoever has frequented those places, where idlers assemble to escape +from solitude, knows that this is generally the state of the wealthy; +and from this state it is no great hardship to be debarred. No man can +be happy in total idleness: he that should be condemned to lie torpid +and motionless, "would fly for recreation," says South, "to the mines +and the galleys;" and it is well, when nature or fortune find employment +for those, who would not have known how to procure it for themselves. + +He, whose mind is engaged by the acquisition or improvement of a +fortune, not only escapes the insipidity of indifference, and the +tediousness of inactivity, but gains enjoyments wholly unknown to those, +who live lazily on the toil of others; for life affords no higher +pleasure than that of surmounting difficulties, passing from one step of +success to another, forming new wishes, and seeing them gratified. He +that labours in any great or laudable undertaking, has his fatigues +first supported by hope, and afterwards rewarded by joy; he is always +moving to a certain end, and when he has attained it, an end more +distant invites him to a new pursuit. + +It does not, indeed, always happen, that diligence is fortunate; the +wisest schemes are broken by unexpected accidents; the most constant +perseverance sometimes toils through life without a recompense; but +labour, though unsuccessful, is more eligible than idleness; he that +prosecutes a lawful purpose by lawful means, acts always with the +approbation of his own reason; he is animated through the course of his +endeavours by an expectation which, though not certain, he knows to be +just; and is at last comforted in his disappointment, by the +consciousness that he has not failed by his own fault. + +That kind of life is most happy which affords us most opportunities of +gaining our own esteem; and what can any man infer in his own favour +from a condition to which, however prosperous, he contributed nothing, +and which the vilest and weakest of the species would have obtained by +the same right, had he happened to be the son of the same father? + +To strive with difficulties, and to conquer them, is the highest human +felicity; the next is, to strive, and deserve to conquer: but he whose +life has passed without a contest, and who can boast neither success nor +merit, can survey himself only as a useless filler of existence; and if +he is content with his own character, must owe his satisfaction to +insensibility. + +Thus it appears that the satirist advised rightly, when he directed us +to resign ourselves to the hands of Heaven, and to leave to superior +powers the determination of our lot: + + _Permittes ipsis expendere Numinibus, quid + Conveniat nobis, rebusque sit utile nostris:-- + Carior est illis homo quam sibi._ JUV. Sat. x. 347. + + Intrust thy fortune to the Pow'rs above: + Leave them to manage for thee, and to grant + What their unerring wisdom sees the want. + In goodness as in greatness they excel: + Ah! that we lov'd ourselves but half so well. DRYDEN. + +What state of life admits most happiness, is uncertain; but that +uncertainty ought to repress the petulance of comparison, and silence +the murmurs of discontent. + + + + +No. 115. TUESDAY, DECEMBER 11, 1753. + + _Scribimus indocti doctique._ HOR. Lib. ii. Ep. i. 17. + + All dare to write, who can or cannot read. + +They who have attentively considered the history of mankind, know that +every age has its peculiar character. At one time, no desire is felt but +for military honours; every summer affords battles and sieges, and the +world is filled with ravage, bloodshed, and devastation: this sanguinary +fury at length subsides, and nations are divided into factions, by +controversies about points that will never be decided. Men then grow +weary of debate and altercation, and apply themselves to the arts of +profit; trading companies are formed, manufactures improved, and +navigation extended; and nothing is any longer thought on, but the +increase and preservation of property, the artifices of getting money, +and the pleasures of spending it. + +The present age, if we consider chiefly the state of our own country, +may be styled, with great propriety, _The Age of Authors_[1]; for, +perhaps, there never was a time in which men of all degrees of ability, +of every kind of education, of every profession and employment, were +posting with ardour so general to the press. The province of writing was +formerly left to those, who by study, or appearance of study, were +supposed to have gained knowledge unattainable by the busy part of +mankind; but in these enlightened days, every man is qualified to +instruct every other man: and he that beats the anvil, or guides the +plough, not content with supplying corporal necessities, amuses himself +in the hours of leisure with providing intellectual pleasures for his +countrymen. + +It may be observed, that of this, as of other evils, complaints have +been made by every generation: but though it may, perhaps, be true, that +at all times more have been willing than have been able to write, yet +there is no reason for believing, that the dogmatical legions of the +present race were ever equalled in number by any former period: for so +widely is spread the itch of literary praise, that almost every man is +an author, either in act or in purpose: has either bestowed his favours +on the publick, or withholds them, that they may be more seasonably +offered, or made more worthy of acceptance. + +In former times, the pen, like the sword, was considered as consigned by +nature to the hands of men; the ladies contented themselves with private +virtues and domestick excellence; and a female writer, like a female +warrior, was considered as a kind of eccentrick being, that deviated, +however illustriously, from her due sphere of motion, and was, +therefore, rather to be gazed at with wonder, than countenanced by +imitation. But as in the times past are said to have been a nation of +Amazons, who drew the bow and wielded the battle-axe, formed encampments +and wasted nations, the revolution of years has now produced a +generation of Amazons of the pen, who with the spirit of their +predecessors have set masculine tyranny at defiance, asserted their +claim to the regions of science, and seem resolved to contest the +usurpations of virility. + +Some indeed there are, of both sexes, who are authors only in desire, +but have not yet attained the power of executing their intentions; whose +performances have not arrived at bulk sufficient to form a volume, or +who have not the confidence, however impatient of nameless obscurity, to +solicit openly the assistance of the printer. Among these are the +innumerable correspondents of publick papers, who are always offering +assistance which no man will receive, and suggesting hints that are +never taken; and who complain loudly of the perverseness and arrogance +of authors, lament their insensibility of their own interest, and fill +the coffee-houses with dark stories of performances by eminent hands, +which have been offered and rejected. + +To what cause this universal eagerness of writing can be properly +ascribed, I have not yet been able to discover. It is said, that every +art is propagated in proportion to the rewards conferred upon it; a +position from which a stranger would naturally infer, that literature +was now blessed with patronage far transcending the candour or +munificence of the Augustan age, that the road to greatness was open to +none but authors, and that by writing alone riches and honour were to be +obtained. + +But since it is true, that writers, like other competitors, are very +little disposed to favour one another, it is not to be expected, that at +a time when every man writes, any man will patronize; and, accordingly, +there is not one that I can recollect at present, who professes the +least regard for the votaries of science, invites the addresses of +learned men, or seems to hope for reputation from any pen but his own. + +The cause, therefore, of this epidemical conspiracy for the destruction +of paper, must remain a secret: nor can I discover, whether we owe it to +the influences of the constellations, or the intemperature of seasons: +whether the long continuance of the wind at any single point, or +intoxicating vapours exhaled from the earth, have turned our nobles and +our peasants, our soldiers and traders, our men and women, all into +wits, philosophers, and writers. + +It is, indeed, of more importance to search out the cure than the cause +of this intellectual malady; and he would deserve well of this country, +who, instead of amusing himself with conjectural speculations, should +find means of persuading the peer to inspect his steward's accounts, or +repair the rural mansion of his ancestors; who could replace the +tradesman behind his counter, and send back the farmer to the mattock +and the flail. + +General irregularities are known in time to remedy themselves. By the +constitution of ancient Egypt, the priesthood was continually +increasing, till at length there was no people beside themselves; the +establishment was then dissolved, and the number of priests was reduced +and limited. Thus among us, writers will, perhaps, be multiplied, till +no readers will be found, and then the ambition of writing must +necessarily cease. + +But as it will be long before the cure is thus gradually effected, and +the evil should be stopped, if it be possible, before it rises to so +great a height, I could wish that both sexes would fix their thoughts +upon some salutary considerations, which might repress their ardour for +that reputation, which not one of many thousands is fated to obtain. + +Let it be deeply impressed, and frequently recollected, that he who has +not obtained the proper qualifications of an author, can have no excuse +for the arrogance of writing, but the power of imparting to mankind +something necessary to be known. A man uneducated or unlettered may +sometimes start a useful thought, or make a lucky discovery, or obtain +by chance some secret of nature, or some intelligence of facts, of which +the most enlightened mind may be ignorant, and which it is better to +reveal, though by a rude and unskilful communication, than to lose for +ever by suppressing it. + +But few will be justified by this plea; for of the innumerable books and +pamphlets that have overflowed the nation, scarce one has made any +addition to real knowledge, or contained more than a transposition of +common sentiments, and a repetition of common phrases. + +It will be naturally inquired, when the man who feels an inclination to +write, may venture to suppose himself properly qualified; and, since +every man is inclined to think well of his own intellect, by what test +he may try his abilities, without hazarding the contempt or resentment +of the publick. + +The first qualification of a writer is a perfect knowledge of the +subject which he undertakes to treat; since we cannot teach what we do +not know, nor can properly undertake to instruct others while we are +ourselves in want of instruction. The next requisite is, that he be +master of the language in which he delivers his sentiments: if he treats +of science and demonstration, that he has attained a style clear, pure, +nervous, and expressive; if his topicks be probable and persuasory, that +he be able to recommend them by the superaddition of elegance and +imagery, to display the colours of varied diction, and pour forth the +musick of modulated periods. + +If it be again inquired, upon what principles any man shall conclude +that he wants those powers, it may be readily answered, that no end is +attained but by the proper means; he only can rationally presume that he +understands a subject, who has read and compared the writers that have +hitherto discussed it, familiarized their arguments to himself by long +meditation, consulted the foundations of different systems, and +separated truth from errour by a rigorous examination. + +In like manner, he only has a right to suppose that he can express his +thoughts, whatever they are, with perspicuity or elegance, who has +carefully perused the best authors, accurately noted their diversities +of style, diligently selected the best modes of diction, and +familiarized them by long habits of attentive practice. + +No man is a rhetorician or philosopher by chance. He who knows that he +undertakes to write on questions which he has never studied, may without +hesitation determine, that he is about to waste his own time and that of +his reader, and expose himself to the derision of those whom he aspires +to instruct: he that without forming his style by the study of the best +models hastens to obtrude his compositions on the publick, may be +certain, that whatever hope or flattery may suggest, he shall shock the +learned ear with barbarisms, and contribute, wherever his work shall be +received, to the depravation of taste and the corruption of language. + +[1] See Knox. Essay 50. + + + + +No. 119. TUESDAY, DECEMBER 25, 1753. + + _Latius regnes, avidum domando + Spiritum, quam si Libyam remotis + Gadibus jungas, et uterque Poenus + Serviat uni._ Hor. Lib. ii. Ode ii. 9. + + By virtue's precepts to controul + The thirsty cravings of the soul, + Is over wider realms to reign + Unenvied monarch, than if Spain + You could to distant Lybia join, + And both the Carthages were thine. FRANCIS. + +When Socrates was asked, "which of mortal men was to be accounted +nearest to the _gods_ in happiness?" he answered, "that man who is in +want of the fewest things." + +In this answer, Socrates left it to be guessed by his auditors, whether, +by the exemption from want which was to constitute happiness, he meant +amplitude of possessions or contraction of desire. And, indeed, there is +so little difference between them, that Alexander the Great confessed +the inhabitant of a tub the next man to the master of the world; and +left a declaration to future ages, that if he was not Alexander he +should wish to be Diogenes. + +These two states, however, though they resemble each other in their +consequence, differ widely with respect to the facility with which they +may be attained. To make great acquisitions can happen to very few; and +in the uncertainty of human affairs, to many it will be incident to +labour without reward, and to lose what they already possess by +endeavours to make it more: some will always want abilities, and others +opportunities to accumulate wealth. It is therefore happy, that nature +has allowed us a more certain and easy road to plenty; every man may +grow rich by contracting his wishes, and by quiet acquiescence in what +has been given him, supply the absence of more. + +Yet so far is almost every man from emulating the happiness of the gods, +by any other means than grasping at their power, that it seems to be the +great business of life to create wants as fast as they are satisfied. It +has been long observed by moralists, that every man squanders or loses a +great part of that life, of which every man knows and deplores the +shortness: and it may be remarked with equal justness, that though every +man laments his own insufficiency to his happiness, and knows himself a +necessitous and precarious being, incessantly soliciting the assistance +of others, and feeling wants which his own art or strength cannot +supply; yet there is no man, who does not, by the superaddition of +unnatural cares, render himself still more dependent; who does not +create an artificial poverty, and suffer himself to feel pain for the +want of that, of which, when it is gained, he can have no enjoyment. + +It must, indeed, be allowed, that as we lose part of our time because it +steals away silent and invisible, and many an hour is passed before we +recollect that it is passing; so unnatural desires insinuate themselves +unobserved into the mind, and we do not perceive that they are gaining +upon us, till the pain which they give us awakens us to notice. No man +is sufficiently vigilant to take account of every minute of his life, or +to watch every motion of his heart. Much of our time likewise is +sacrificed to custom; we trifle, because we see others trifle; in the +same manner we catch from example the contagion of desire; we see all +about us busied in pursuit of imaginary good, and begin to bustle in the +same chase, lest greater activity should triumph over us. + +It is true, that to man as a member of society, many things become +necessary, which, perhaps, in a state of nature are superfluous; and +that many things, not absolutely necessary, are yet so useful and +convenient, that they cannot easily be spared. I will make yet a more +ample and liberal concession. In opulent states, and regular +governments, the temptations to wealth and rank, and to the distinctions +that follow them, are such as no force of understanding finds it easy to +resist. + +If, therefore, I saw the quiet of life disturbed only by endeavours +after wealth and honour; by solicitude, which the world, whether justly +or not, considered as important; I should scarcely have had courage to +inculcate any precepts of moderation and forbearance. He that is engaged +in a pursuit, in which all mankind profess to be his rivals, is +supported by the authority of all mankind in the prosecution of his +design, and will, therefore, scarcely stop to hear the lectures of a +solitary philosopher. Nor am I certain, that the accumulation of honest +gain ought to be hindered, or the ambition of just honours always to be +repressed. Whatever can enable the possessor to confer any benefit upon +others, may be desired upon virtuous principles; and we ought not too +rashly to accuse any man of intending to confine the influence of his +acquisitions to himself. + +But if we look round upon mankind, whom shall we find among those that +fortune permits to form their own manners, that is not tormenting +himself with a wish for something, of which all the pleasure and all the +benefit will cease at the moment of attainment? One man is beggaring his +posterity to build a house, which when finished he never will inhabit; +another is levelling mountains to open a prospect, which, when he has +once enjoyed it, he can enjoy it no more; another is painting ceilings, +carving wainscot, and filling his apartments with costly furniture, only +that some neighbouring house may not be richer or finer than his own. + +That splendour and elegance are not desirable, I am not so abstracted +from life to inculcate; but if we inquire closely into the reason for +which they are esteemed, we shall find them valued principally as +evidences of wealth. Nothing, therefore, can show greater depravity of +understanding, than to delight in the show when the reality is wanting; +or voluntarily to become poor, that strangers may for a time imagine us +to be rich. + +But there are yet minuter objects and more trifling anxieties. Men may +be found, who are kept from sleep by the want of a shell particularly +variegated! who are wasting their lives, in stratagems to obtain a book +in a language which they do not understand; who pine with envy at the +flowers of another man's parterre; who hover like vultures round the +owner of a fossil, in hopes to plunder his cabinet at his death; and who +would not much regret to see a street in flames, if a box of medals +might be scattered in the tumult. + +He that imagines me to speak of these sages in terms exaggerated and +hyperbolical, has conversed but little with the race of virtuosos. A +slight acquaintance with their studies, and a few visits to their +assemblies, would inform him, that nothing is so worthless, but that +prejudice and caprice can give it value; nor any thing of so little use, +but that by indulging an idle competition or unreasonable pride, a man +may make it to himself one of the necessaries of life. + +Desires like these, I may surely, without incurring the censure of +moroseness, advise every man to repel when they invade his mind; or if +he admits them, never to allow them any greater influence than is +necessary to give petty employments the power of pleasing, and diversify +the day with slight amusements. + +An ardent wish, whatever be its object, will always be able to interrupt +tranquillity. What we believe ourselves to want, torments us not in +proportion to its real value, but according to the estimation by which +we have rated it in our own minds; in some diseases, the patient has +been observed to long for food, which scarce any extremity of hunger +would in health have compelled him to swallow; but while his organs were +thus depraved, the craving was irresistible, nor could any rest be +obtained till it was appeased by compliance. Of the same nature are the +irregular appetites of the mind; though they are often excited by +trifles, they are equally disquieting with real wants: the Roman, who +wept at the death of his lamprey, felt the same degree of sorrow that +extorts tears on other occasions. + +Inordinate desires, of whatever kind, ought to be repressed upon yet a +higher consideration; they must be considered as enemies not only to +happiness but to virtue. There are men, among those commonly reckoned +the learned and the wise, who spare no stratagems to remove a competitor +at an auction, who will sink the price of a rarity at the expense of +truth, and whom it is not safe to trust alone in a library or cabinet. +These are faults, which the fraternity seem to look upon as jocular +mischiefs, or to think excused by the violence of the temptation: but I +shall always fear that he, who accustoms himself to fraud in little +things, wants only opportunity to practise it in greater; "he that has +hardened himself by killing a sheep," says Pythagoras, "will with less +reluctance shed the blood of a man." + +To prize every thing according to its _real_ use ought to be the aim of +a rational being. There are few things which can much conduce to +happiness, and, therefore, few things to be ardently desired. He that +looks upon the business and bustle of the world, with the philosophy +with which Socrates surveyed the fair at Athens, will turn away at last +with his exclamation, "How many things are here which I do not want!" + + + + +No. 120. SATURDAY, DECEMBER 29, 1753. + +_--Ultima semper + Expectanda dies homini: dicique beatus + Ante obitum nemo supremaque funera debet._ OVID. Met. Lib. iii. 135. + + But no frail man, however great or high, + Can be concluded blest before he die. ADDISON. + +The numerous miseries of human life have extorted in all ages an +universal complaint. The wisest of men terminated all his experiments in +search of happiness, by the mournful confession, that "all is vanity;" +and the ancient patriarchs lamented, that "the days of their pilgrimage +were few and evil." + +There is, indeed, no topick on which it is more superfluous to +accumulate authorities, nor any assertion of which our own eyes will +more easily discover, or our sensations more frequently impress the +truth, than, that misery is the lot of man, that our present state is a +state of danger and infelicity. + +When we take the most distant prospect of life, what does it present us +but a chaos of unhappiness, a confused and tumultuous scene of labour +and contest, disappointment and defeat? If we view past ages in the +reflection of history, what do they offer to our meditation but crimes +and calamities? One year is distinguished by a famine, another by an +earthquake; kingdoms are made desolate, sometimes by wars, and sometimes +by pestilence; the peace of the world is interrupted at one time by the +caprices of a tyrant, at another by the rage of the conqueror. The +memory is stored only with vicissitudes of evil; and the happiness, such +as it is, of one part of mankind, is found to arise commonly from +sanguinary success, from victories which confer upon them the power, not +so much of improving life by any new enjoyment, as of inflicting misery +on others, and gratifying their own pride by comparative greatness. + +But by him that examines life with a more close attention, the happiness +of the world will be found still less than it appears. In some intervals +of publick prosperity, or to use terms more proper, in some +intermissions of calamity, a general diffusion of happiness may seem to +overspread a people; all is triumph and exultation, jollity and plenty; +there are no publick fears and dangers, and "no complainings in the +streets." But the condition of individuals is very little mended by this +general calm: pain and malice and discontent still continue their +havock; the silent depredation goes incessantly forward; and the grave +continues to be filled by the victims of sorrow. + +He that enters a gay assembly, beholds the cheerfulness displayed in +every countenance, and finds all sitting vacant and disengaged, with no +other attention than to give or to receive pleasure, would naturally +imagine, that he had reached at last the metropolis of felicity, the +place sacred to gladness of heart, from whence all fear and anxiety were +irreversibly excluded. Such, indeed, we may often find to be the opinion +of those, who from a lower station look up to the pomp and gaiety which +they cannot reach: but who is there of those who frequent these +luxurious assemblies, that will not confess his own uneasiness, or +cannot recount the vexations and distresses that prey upon the lives of +his gay companions? + +The world, in its best state, is nothing more than a larger assembly of +beings, combining to counterfeit happiness which they do not feel, +employing every art and contrivance to embellish life, and to hide their +real condition from the eyes of one another. + +The species of happiness most obvious to the observation of others, is +that which depends upon the goods of fortune; yet even this is often +fictitious. There is in the world more poverty than is generally +imagined; not only because many whose possessions are large have desires +still larger, and many measure their wants by the gratifications which +others enjoy; but great numbers are pressed by real necessities which it +is their chief ambition to conceal, and are forced to purchase the +appearance of competence and cheerfulness at the expense of many +comforts and conveniencies of life. + +Many, however, are confessedly rich, and many more are sufficiently +removed from all danger of real poverty: but it has been long ago +remarked, that money cannot purchase quiet; the highest of mankind can +promise themselves no exemption from that discord or suspicion, by which +the sweetness of domestick retirement is destroyed; and must always be +even more exposed, in the same degree as they are elevated above others, +to the treachery of dependants, the calumny of defamers and the violence +of opponents. + +Affliction is inseparable from our present state: it adheres to all the +inhabitants of this world, in different proportions indeed, but with an +allotment which seems very little regulated by our own conduct. It has +been the boast of some swelling moralists, that every man's fortune was +in his own power, that prudence supplied the place of all other +divinities, and that happiness is the unfailing consequence of virtue. +But, surely, the quiver of Omnipotence is stored with arrows, against +which the shield of human virtue, however adamantine it has been +boasted, is held up in vain: we do not always suffer by our crimes; we +are not always protected by our innocence. + +A good man is by no means exempt from the danger of suffering by the +crimes of others; even his goodness may raise him enemies of implacable +malice and restless perseverance: the good man has never been warranted +by Heaven from the treachery of friends, the disobedience of children or +the dishonesty of a wife; he may see his cares made useless by +profusion, his instructions defeated by perverseness, and his kindness +rejected by ingratitude; he may languish under the infamy of false +accusations, or perish reproachfully by an unjust sentence. + +A good man is subject, like other mortals, to all the influences of +natural evil; his harvest is not spared by the tempest, nor his cattle +by the murrain; his house flames like others in a conflagration; nor +have his ships any peculiar power of resisting hurricanes: his mind, +however elevated, inhabits a body subject to innumerable casualties, of +which he must always share the dangers and the pains; he bears about him +the seeds of disease, and may linger away a great part of his life under +the tortures of the gout or stone; at one time groaning with +insufferable anguish, at another dissolved in listlessness and languor. + +From this general and indiscriminate distribution of misery, the +moralists have always derived one of their strongest moral arguments for +a future state; for since the common events of the present life happen +alike to the good and bad, it follows from the justice of the Supreme +Being, that there must be another state of existence, in which a just +retribution shall be made, and every man shall be happy and miserable +according to his works. + +The miseries of life may, perhaps, afford some proof of a future state, +compared as well with the mercy as the justice of God. It is scarcely to +be imagined that Infinite Benevolence would create a being capable of +enjoying so much more than is here to be enjoyed, and qualified by +nature to prolong pain by remembrance, and anticipate it by terrour, if +he was not designed for something nobler and better than a state, in +which many of his faculties can serve only for his torment; in which he +is to be importuned by desires that never can be satisfied, to feel many +evils which he had no power to avoid, and to fear many which he shall +never feel: there will surely come a time, when every capacity of +happiness shall be filled, and none shall be wretched but by his own +fault. + +In the mean time, it is by affliction chiefly that the heart of man is +purified, and that the thoughts are fixed upon a better state. +Prosperity, allayed and imperfect as it is, has power to intoxicate the +imagination, to fix the mind upon the present scene, to produce +confidence and elation, and to make him who enjoys affluence and honours +forget the hand by which they were bestowed. It is seldom that we are +otherwise, than by affliction, awakened to a sense of our own +imbecility, or taught to know how little all our acquisitions can +conduce to safety or to quiet; and how justly we may ascribe to the +superintendence of a higher Power, those blessings which in the +wantonness of success we considered as the attainments of our policy or +courage. + +Nothing confers so much ability to resist the temptations that +perpetually surround us, as an habitual consideration of the shortness +of life, and the uncertainty of those pleasures that solicit our +pursuit; and this consideration can be inculcated only by affliction. "O +Death! how bitter is the remembrance of thee, to a man that lives at +ease in his possessions!" If our present state were one continued +succession of delights, or one uniform flow of calmness and +tranquillity, we should never willingly think upon its end; death would +then surely surprise us as "a thief in the night;" and our task of duty +would remain unfinished, till "the night came when no man can work." + +While affliction thus prepares us for felicity, we may console ourselves +under its pressures, by remembering, that they are no particular marks +of divine displeasure; since all the distresses of persecution have been +suffered by those, "of whom the world was not worthy;" and the Redeemer +of mankind himself was "a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief!" + + + + +No. 126. SATURDAY, JANUARY 19, 1754. + + --_Steriles nec legit arenas + Ut caner et paucis, mersitque hoc pulvere verum._ LUCAN. + + Canst thou believe the vast eternal Mind Was e'er to Syrts and +Lybian sands confin'd? That he would choose this waste, this barren +ground, To teach the thin inhabitants around, And leave his truth in +wilds and deserts drown'd? + + There has always prevailed among that part of mankind that addict their +minds to speculation, a propensity to talk much of the delights of +retirement: and some of the most pleasing compositions produced in every +age contain descriptions of the peace and happiness of a country life. + +I know not whether those who thus ambitiously repeat the praises of +solitude, have always considered, how much they depreciate mankind by +declaring, that whatever is excellent or desirable is to be obtained by +departing from them; that the assistance which we may derive from one +another, is not equivalent to the evils which we have to fear; that the +kindness of a few is overbalanced by the malice of many; and that the +protection of society is too dearly purchased by encountering its +dangers and enduring its oppressions. + +These specious representations of solitary happiness, however +opprobrious to human nature, have so far spread their influence over the +world, that almost every man delights his imagination with the hopes of +obtaining some time an opportunity of retreat. Many, indeed, who enjoy +retreat only in imagination, content themselves with believing, that +another year will transport them to rural tranquillity, and die while +they talk of doing what, if they had lived longer, they would never have +done. But many likewise there are, either of greater resolution or more +credulity, who in earnest try the state which they have been taught to +think thus secure from cares and dangers; and retire to privacy, either +that they may improve their happiness, increase their knowledge, or +exalt their virtue. + +The greater part of the admirers of solitude, as of all other classes of +mankind, have no higher or remoter view, than the present gratification +of their passions. Of these, some, haughty and impetuous, fly from +society only because they cannot bear to repay to others the regard +which themselves exact; and think no state of life eligible, but that +which places them out of the reach of censure or control, and affords +them opportunities of living in a perpetual compliance with their own +inclinations, without the necessity of regulating their actions by any +other man's convenience or opinion. + +There are others, of minds more delicate and tender, easily offended by +every deviation from rectitude, soon disgusted by ignorance or +impertinence, and always expecting from the conversation of mankind more +elegance, purity and truth, than the mingled mass of life will easily +afford. Such men are in haste to retire from grossness, falsehood and +brutality; and hope to find in private habitations at least a negative +felicity, an exemption from the shocks and perturbations with which +publick scenes are continually distressing them. + +To neither of these votaries will solitude afford that content, which +she has been taught so lavishly to promise. The man of arrogance will +quickly discover, that by escaping from his opponents he has lost his +flatterers, that greatness is nothing where it is not seen, and power +nothing where it cannot be felt: and he, whose faculties are employed in +too close an observation of failings and defects, will find his +condition very little mended by transferring his attention from others +to himself: he will probably soon come back in quest of new objects, and +be glad to keep his captiousness employed on any character rather than +his own. + +Others are seduced into solitude merely by the authority of great names, +and expect to find those charms in tranquillity which have allured +statesmen and conquerors to the shades: these likewise are apt to wonder +at their disappointment, for want of considering, that those whom they +aspire to imitate carried with them to their country-seats minds full +fraught with subjects of reflection, the consciousness of great merit, +the memory of illustrious actions, the knowledge of important events, +and the seeds of mighty designs to be ripened by future meditation. +Solitude was to such men a release from fatigue, and an opportunity of +usefulness. But what can retirement confer upon him, who having done +nothing can receive no support from his own importance, who having known +nothing can find no entertainment in reviewing the past, and who +intending nothing can form no hopes from prospects of the future? He +can, surely, take no wiser course than that of losing himself again in +the crowd, and filling the vacuities of his mind with the news of the +day. + +Others consider solitude as the parent of philosophy, and retire in +expectation of greater intimacies with science, as Numa repaired to the +groves when he conferred with Egeria. These men have not always reason +to repent. Some studies require a continued prosecution of the same +train of thought, such as is too often interrupted by the petty +avocations of common life: sometimes, likewise, it is necessary, that a +multiplicity of objects be at once present to the mind; and every thing, +therefore, must be kept at a distance, which may perplex the memory or +dissipate the attention. + +But though learning may be conferred by solitude, its application must +be attained by general converse. He has learned to no purpose, that is +not able to teach; and he will always teach unsuccessfully, who cannot +recommend his sentiments by his diction or address. + +Even the acquisition of knowledge is often much facilitated by the +advantages of society: he that never compares his notions with those of +others, readily acquiesces in his first thoughts, and very seldom +discovers the objections which may be raised against his opinions; he, +therefore, often thinks himself in possession of truth, when he is only +fondling an errour long since exploded. He that has neither companions +nor rivals in his studies, will always applaud his own progress, and +think highly of his performances, because he knows not that others have +equalled or excelled him. And I am afraid it may be added, that the +student who withdraws himself from the world, will soon feel that ardour +extinguished which praise or emulation had enkindled, and take the +advantage of secrecy to sleep, rather than to labour. + +There remains yet another set of recluses, whose intention entitles them +to higher respect, and whose motives deserve a more serious +consideration. These retire from the world, not merely to bask in ease +or gratify curiosity, but that, being disengaged from common cares, they +may employ more time in the duties of religion; that they may regulate +their actions with stricter vigilance, and purify their thoughts by more +frequent meditation. + +To men thus elevated above the mists of mortality, I am far from +presuming myself qualified to give directions. On him that appears to +"pass through things temporal," with no other care than not to "finally +lose the things eternal," I look with such veneration as inclines me to +approve his conduct in the whole, without a minute examination of its +parts; yet I could never forbear to wish, that while vice is every day +multiplying seducements, and stalking forth with more hardened +effrontery, virtue would not withdraw the influence of her presence, or +forbear to assert her natural dignity by open and undaunted perseverance +in the right. Piety practised in solitude, like the flower that blooms +in the desert, may give its fragrance to the winds of Heaven, and +delight those unbodied spirits that survey the works of God and the +actions of men; but it bestows no assistance upon earthly beings, and +however free from taints of impurity, yet wants the sacred splendour of +beneficence. + +Our Maker, who, though he gave us such varieties of temper and such +difference of powers, yet designed us all for happiness, undoubtedly +intended that we should obtain that happiness by different means. Some +are unable to resist the temptations of importunity, or the impetuosity +of their own passions incited by the force of present temptations: of +these it is undoubtedly the duty to fly from enemies which they cannot +conquer, and cultivate, in the calm of solitude, that virtue which is +too tender to endure the tempests of publick life. But there are others, +whose passions grow more strong and irregular in privacy; and who cannot +maintain an uniform tenour of virtue, but by exposing their manners to +the publick eye, and assisting the admonitions of conscience with the +fear of infamy: for such it is dangerous to exclude all witnesses of +their conduct, till they have formed strong habits of virtue, and +weakened their passions by frequent victories. But there is a higher +order of men so inspired with ardour, and so fortified with resolution, +that the world passes before them without influence or regard: these +ought to consider themselves as appointed the guardians of mankind: they +are placed in an evil world, to exhibit publick examples of good life; +and may be said, when they withdraw to solitude, to desert the station +which Providence assigned them. + + + + +No. 128. SATURDAY, JANUARY 26, 1754. + + _Ille sinistrorsum, hic dextrorsum abit; unus utrique + Error, sed variis illudit partibus._--HOR. Lib. ii. Sat. iii. 50. + + When in a wood we leave the certain way, + One error fools us, though we various stray, + Some to the left, and some to t'other side. FRANCIS. + +It is common among all the classes of mankind, to charge each other with +trifling away life: every man looks on the occupation or amusement of +his neighbour, as something below the dignity of our nature, and +unworthy of the attention of a rational being. + +A man who considers the paucity of the wants of nature, and who, being +acquainted with the various means by which all manual occupations are +now facilitated, observes what numbers are supported by the labour of a +few, would, indeed, be inclined to wonder, how the multitudes who are +exempted from the necessity of working, either for themselves or others, +find business to fill up the vacuities of life. The greater part of +mankind neither card the fleece, dig the mine, fell the wood, nor gather +in the harvest; they neither tend herds nor build houses; in what then +are they employed? + +This is certainly a question, which a distant prospect of the world will +not enable us to answer. We find all ranks and ages mingled together in +a tumultuous confusion, with haste in their motions, and eagerness in +their looks; but what they have to pursue or avoid, a more minute +observation must inform them. + +When we analyze the crowd into individuals, it soon appears that the +passions and imaginations of men will not easily suffer them to be idle: +we see things coveted merely because they are rare, and pursued because +they are fugitive; we see men conspire to fix an arbitrary value on that +which is worthless in itself, and then contend for the possession. One +is a collector of fossils, of which he knows no other use than to show +them; and when he has stocked his own repository, grieves that the +stones which he has left behind him should be picked up by another. The +florist nurses a tulip, and repines that his rival's beds enjoy the same +showers and sunshine with his own. This man is hurrying to a concert, +only lest others should have heard the new musician before him; another +bursts from his company to the play, because he fancies himself the +patron of an actress; some spend the morning in consultations with their +tailor, and some in directions to their cook; some are forming parties +for cards, and some laying wagers at a horse-race. + +It cannot, I think, be denied, that some of these lives are passed in +trifles, in occupations by which the busy neither benefit themselves nor +others, and by which no man could be long engaged, who seriously +considered what he was doing, or had knowledge enough to compare what he +is, with what he might be made. However, as people who have the same +inclination generally flock together, every trifler is kept in +countenance by the sight of others as unprofitably active as himself; by +kindling the heat of competition, he in time thinks himself important, +and by having his mind intensely engaged, he is secured from weariness +of himself. + +Some degree of self-approbation is always the reward of diligence; and I +cannot, therefore, but consider the laborious cultivation of petty +pleasures, as a more happy and more virtuous disposition, than that +universal contempt and haughty negligence, which is sometimes associated +with powerful faculties, but is often assumed by indolence when it +disowns its name, and aspires to the appellation of greatness of mind. + +It has been long observed, that drollery and ridicule is the most easy +kind of wit: let it be added that contempt and arrogance is the easiest +philosophy. To find some objection to every thing, and to dissolve in +perpetual laziness under pretence that occasions are wanting to call +forth activity, to laugh at those who are ridiculously busy without +setting an example of more rational industry, is no less in the power of +the meanest than of the highest intellects. + +Our present state has placed us at once in such different relations, +that every human employment, which is not a visible and immediate act of +goodness, will be in some respect or other subject to contempt; but it +is true, likewise, that almost every act, which is not directly vicious, +is in some respect beneficial and laudable. "I often," says Bruyere, +"observe from my window, two beings of erect form and amiable +countenance, endowed with the powers of reason, able to clothe their +thoughts in language, and convey their notions to each other. They rise +early in the morning, and are every day employed till sunset in rubbing +two smooth stones together, or, in other terms, in polishing marble." + +"If lions could paint," says the fable, "in the room of those pictures +which exhibit men vanquishing lions, we should see lions feeding upon +men." If the stone-cutter could have written like Bruyere, what would he +have replied? + +"I look up," says he, "every day from my shop, upon a man whom the +idlers, who stand still to gaze upon my work, often celebrate as a wit +and a philosopher. I often perceive his face clouded with care, and am +told that his taper is sometimes burning at midnight. The sight of a man +who works so much harder than myself, excited my curiosity. I heard no +sound of tools in his apartment, and, therefore, could not imagine what +he was doing; but was told at last, that he was writing descriptions of +mankind, who when he had described them would live just as they had +lived before; that he sat up whole nights to change a sentence, because +the sound of a letter was too often repeated: that he was often +disquieted with doubts, about the propriety of a word which every body +understood; that he would hesitate between two expressions equally +proper, till he could not fix his choice but by consulting his friends; +that he will run from one end of Paris to the other, for an opportunity +of reading a period to a nice ear; that if a single line is heard with +coldness and inattention, he returns home dejected and disconsolate; and +that by all this care and labour, he hopes only to make a little book, +which at last will teach no useful art, and which none who has it not +will perceive himself to want. I have often wondered for what end such a +being as this was sent into the world; and should be glad to see those +who live thus foolishly, seized by an order of the government, and +obliged to labour at some useful occupation." + +Thus, by a partial and imperfect representation, may every thing be made +equally ridiculous. He that gazed with contempt on human beings rubbing +stones together, might have prolonged the same amusement by walking +through the city, and seeing others with looks of importance heaping one +brick upon another; or by rambling into the country, where he might +observe other creatures of the same kind driving a piece of sharp iron +into the clay, or, in the language of men less enlightened, ploughing +the field. + +As it is thus easy by a detail of minute circumstances to make every +thing little, so it is not difficult by an aggregation of effects to +make every thing great. The polisher of marble may be forming ornaments +for the palaces of virtue, and the schools of science; or providing +tables on which the actions of heroes and the discoveries of sages shall +be recorded, for the incitement and instruction of generations. The +mason is exercising one of the principal arts by which reasoning beings +are distinguished from the brute, the art to which life owes much of its +safety and all its convenience, by which we are secured from the +inclemency of the seasons, and fortified against the ravages of +hostility; and the ploughman is changing the face of nature, diffusing +plenty and happiness over kingdoms, and compelling the earth to give +food to her inhabitants. + +Greatness and littleness are terms merely comparative; and we err in our +estimation of things, because we measure them by some wrong standard. +The trifler proposes to himself only to equal or excel some other +trifler, and is happy or miserable as he succeeds or miscarries: the man +of sedentary desire and unactive ambition sits comparing his power with +his wishes; and makes his inability to perform things impossible, an +excuse to himself for performing nothing. Man can only form a just +estimate of his own actions, by making his power the test of his +performance, by comparing what he does with what he can do. Whoever +steadily perseveres in the exertion of all his faculties, does what is +great with respect to himself; and what will not be despised by Him, who +has given to all created beings their different abilities: he faithfully +performs the task of life, within whatever limits his labours may be +confined, or how soon soever they may be forgotten. + +We can conceive so much more than we can accomplish, that whoever tries +his own actions by his imagination, may appear despicable in his own +eyes. He that despises for its littleness any thing really useful, has +no pretensions to applaud the grandeur of his conceptions; since nothing +but narrowness of mind hinders him from seeing, that by pursuing the +same principles every thing limited will appear contemptible. + +He that neglects the care of his family, while his benevolence expands +itself in scheming the happiness of imaginary kingdoms, might with equal +reason sit on a throne dreaming of universal empire, and of the +diffusion of blessings over all the globe: yet even this globe is +little, compared with the system of matter within our view! and that +system barely something more than nonentity, compared with the boundless +regions of space, to which neither eye nor imagination can extend. + +From conceptions, therefore, of what we might have been, and from wishes +to be what we are not, conceptions that we know to be foolish, and +wishes which we feel to be vain, we must necessarily descend to the +consideration of what we are. We have powers very scanty in their utmost +extent, but which in different men are differently proportioned. +Suitably to these powers we have duties prescribed, which we must +neither decline for the sake of delighting ourselves with easier +amusements, nor overlook in idle contemplation of greater excellence or +more extensive comprehension. + +In order to the right conduct of our lives, we must remember, that we +are not born to please ourselves. He that studies simply his own +satisfaction, will always find the proper business of his station too +hard or too easy for him. But if we bear continually in mind our +relation to the Father of Being, by whom we are placed in the world, and +who has allotted us the part which we are to bear in the general system +of life, we shall be easily persuaded to resign our own inclinations to +Unerring Wisdom, and do the work decreed for us with cheerfulness and +diligence. + + + + +No. 131. TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 5, 1754. + + --_Misce + Ergo aliquid nostris de moribus_. JUV. Sat. iv. 322. + + And mingle something of our times to please. DRYDEN, Jun. + +Fontanelle, in his panegyrick on Sir Isaac Newton, closes a long +enumeration of that great philosopher's virtues and attainments, with an +observation, that "he was not distinguished from other men, by any +singularity either natural or affected." + +It is an eminent instance of Newton's superiority to the rest of +mankind, that he was able to separate knowledge from those weaknesses by +which knowledge is generally disgraced; that he was able to excel in +science and wisdom without purchasing them by the neglect of little +things; and that he stood alone, merely because he had left the rest of +mankind behind him, not because he deviated from the beaten track. + +Whoever, after the example of Plutarch, should compare the lives of +illustrious men, might set this part of Newton's character to view with +great advantage, by opposing it to that of Bacon, perhaps the only man, +of later ages, who has any pretensions to dispute with him the palm of +genius or science. + +Bacon, after he had added to a long and careful contemplation of almost +every other object of knowledge a curious inspection into common life, +and after having surveyed nature as a philosopher, had examined "men's +business and bosoms" as a statesman; yet failed so much in the conduct +of domestick affairs, that, in the most lucrative post to which a great +and wealthy kingdom could advance him, he felt all the miseries of +distressful poverty, and committed all the crimes to which poverty +incites. Such were at once his negligence and rapacity, that, as it is +said, he would gain by unworthy practices that money, which, when so +acquired, his servants might steal from one end of the table, while he +sat studious and abstracted at the other. + +As scarcely any man has reached the excellence, very few have sunk to +the weakness of Bacon: but almost all the studious tribe, as they obtain +any participation of his knowledge, feel likewise some contagion of his +defects; and obstruct the veneration which learning would procure, by +follies greater or less, to which only learning could betray them. + +It has been formerly remarked by _The Guardian_, that the world punishes +with too great severity the errours of those, who imagine that the +ignorance of little things may be compensated by the knowledge of great; +for so it is, that as more can detect petty failings than can +distinguish or esteem great qualifications, and as mankind is in general +more easily disposed to censure than to admiration, contempt is often +incurred by slight mistakes, which real virtue or usefulness cannot +counterbalance. + +Yet such mistakes and inadvertencies it is not easy for a man deeply +immersed in study to avoid; no man can become qualified for the common +intercourses of life, by private meditation: the manners of the world +are not a regular system, planned by philosophers upon settled +principles, in which every cause has a congruous effect, and one part +has a just reference to another. Of the fashions prevalent in every +country, a few have arisen, perhaps, from particular temperatures of the +climate; a few more from the constitution of the government; but the +greater part have grown up by chance; been started by caprice, been +contrived by affectation, or borrowed without any just motives of choice +from other countries. + +Of all these, the savage that hunts his prey upon the mountains, and the +sage that speculates in his closet, must necessarily live in equal +ignorance: yet by the observation of those trifles it is, that the ranks +of mankind are kept in order, that the address of one to another is +regulated, and the general business of the world carried on with +facility and method. + +These things, therefore, though small in themselves, become great by +their frequency: and he very much mistakes his own interest, who to the +unavoidable unskilfulness of abstraction and retirement, adds a +voluntary neglect of common forms, and increases the disadvantages of a +studious course of life by an arrogant contempt of those practices, by +which others endeavour to gain favour and multiply friendships. + +A real and interior disdain of fashion and ceremony, is indeed, not very +often to be found: much the greater part of those who pretend to laugh +at foppery and formality, secretly wish to have possessed those +qualifications which they pretend to despise; and because they find it +difficult to wash away the tincture which they have so deeply imbibed, +endeavour to harden themselves in a sullen approbation of their own +colour. Neutrality is a state, into which the busy passions of man +cannot easily subside; and he who is in danger of the pangs of envy, is +generally forced to recreate his imagination with an effort of comfort. + +Some, however, may be found, who, supported by the consciousness of +great abilities, and elevated by a long course of reputation and +applause, voluntarily consign themselves to singularity, affect to cross +the roads of life because they know that they shall not be jostled, and +indulge a boundless gratification of will because they perceive that +they shall be quietly obeyed. Men of this kind are generally known by +the name of Humourists, an appellation by which he that has obtained it, +and can be contented to keep it, is set free at once from the shackles +of fashion: and can go in or out, sit or stand, be talkative or silent, +gloomy or merry, advance absurdities or oppose demonstration, without +any other reprehension from mankind, than that it is his way, that he is +an odd fellow, and must be let alone. + +This seems to many an easy passport through the various factions of +mankind; and those on whom it is bestowed, appear too frequently to +consider the patience with which their caprices are suffered as an +undoubted evidence of their own importance, of a genius to which +submission is universally paid, and whose irregularities are only +considered as consequences of its vigour. These peculiarities, however, +are always found to spot a character, though they may not totally +obscure it; and he who expects from mankind, that they should give up +established customs in compliance with his single will, and exacts that +deference which he does not pay, may be endured, but can never be +approved. + +Singularity is, I think, in its own nature universally and invariably +displeasing. In whatever respect a man differs from others, he must be +considered by them as either worse or better: by being better, it is +well known that a man gains admiration oftener than love, since all +approbation of his practice must necessarily condemn him that gives it; +and though a man often pleases by inferiority, there are few who desire +to give such pleasure. Yet the truth is, that singularity is almost +always regarded as a brand of slight reproach; and where it is +associated with acknowledged merit, serves as an abatement or an allay +of excellence, by which weak eyes are reconciled to its lustre, and by +which, though kindness is not gained, at least envy is averted. + +But let no man be in haste to conclude his own merit so great or +conspicuous, as to require or justify singularity: it is as hazardous +for a moderate understanding to usurp the prerogatives of genius, as for +a common form to play over the airs of uncontested beauty. The pride of +men will not patiently endure to see one, whose understanding or +attainments are but level with their own, break the rules by which they +have consented to be bound, or forsake the direction which they +submissively follow. All violation of established practice implies in +its own nature a rejection of the common opinion, a defiance of common +censure, and an appeal from general laws to private judgment: he, +therefore, who differs from others without apparent advantage, ought not +to be angry if his arrogance is punished with ridicule; if those whose +example he superciliously overlooks, point him out to derision, and hoot +him back again into the common road. + +The pride of singularity is often exerted in little things, where right +and wrong are indeterminable, and where, therefore, vanity is without +excuse. But there are occasions on which it is noble to dare to stand +alone. To be pious among infidels, to be disinterested in a time of +general venality, to lead a life of virtue and reason in the midst of +sensualists, is a proof of a mind intent on nobler things than the +praise or blame of men, of a soul fixed in the contemplation of the +highest good, and superior to the tyranny of custom and example. + +In moral and religious questions only, a wise man will hold no +consultations with fashion, because these duties are constant and +immutable, and depend not on the notions of men, but the commands of +Heaven: yet even of these, the external mode is to be in some measure +regulated by the prevailing taste of the age in which we live; for he is +certainly no friend to virtue, who neglects to give it any lawful +attraction, or suffers it to deceive the eye or alienate the affections +for want of innocent compliance with fashionable decorations. + +It is yet remembered of the learned and pious Nelson[1], that he was +remarkably elegant in his manners, and splendid in his dress. He knew, +that the eminence of his character drew many eyes upon him; and he was +careful not to drive the young or the gay away from religion, by +representing it as an enemy to any distinction or enjoyment in which +human nature may innocently delight. + +In this censure of singularity, I have, therefore, no intention to +subject reason or conscience to custom or example. To comply with the +notions and practices of mankind, is in some degree the duty of a social +being; because by compliance only he can please, and by pleasing only he +can become useful: but as the end is not to be lost for the sake of the +means, we are not to give up virtue to complaisance; for the end of +complaisance is only to gain the kindness of our fellow-beings, whose +kindness is desirable only as instrumental to happiness, and happiness +must be always lost by departure from virtue. + + +[1] The neglect of his writings must be considered as indicative of an + increasing neglect of that apostolical establishment, whose Fasts + and Festivals this author has illustrated with a raciness of style + and sentiment worthy of a primitive father of the Church. + + + + +No. 137. TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 26, 1754. + + [Greek: Ti d erexa]; PYTHAG. + + What have I been doing? + +As man is a being very sparingly furnished with the power of prescience, +he can provide for the future only by considering the past; and as +futurity is all in which he has any real interest, he ought very +diligently to use the only means by which he can be enabled to enjoy it, +and frequently to revolve the experiments which he has hitherto made +upon life, that he may gain wisdom from his mistakes, and caution from +his miscarriages. + +Though I do not so exactly conform to the precepts of Pythagoras, as to +practise every night this solemn recollection, yet I am not so lost in +dissipation as wholly to omit it; nor can I forbear sometimes to inquire +of myself, in what employment my life has passed away. Much of my time +has sunk into nothing, and left no trace by which it can be +distinguished; and of this I now only know, that it was once in my +power, and might once have been improved. + +Of other parts of life, memory can give some account; at some hours I +have been gay, and at others serious; I have sometimes mingled in +conversation, and sometimes meditated in solitude; one day has been +spent in consulting the ancient sages, and another in writing +_Adventurers_. + +At the conclusion of any undertaking, it is usual to compute the loss +and profit. As I shall soon cease to write _Adventurers_, I could not +forbear lately to consider what has been the consequence of my labours; +and whether I am to reckon the hours laid out in these compositions, as +applied to a good and laudable purpose, or suffered to fume away in +useless evaporations. + +That I have intended well, I have the attestation of my own heart: but +good intentions may be frustrated when they are executed without +suitable skill, or directed to an end unattainable in itself. + +Some there are, who leave writers very little room for +self-congratulation; some who affirm, that books have no influence upon +the publick, that no age was ever made better by its authors, and that to +call upon mankind to correct their manners, is, like Xerxes, to scourge +the wind, or shackle the torrent. + +This opinion they pretend to support by unfailing experience. The world +is full of fraud and corruption, rapine or malignity; interest is the +ruling motive of mankind, and every one is endeavouring to increase his +own stores of happiness by perpetual accumulation, without reflecting +upon the numbers whom his superfluity condemns to want: in this state of +things a book of morality is published, in which charity and benevolence +are strongly enforced; and it is proved beyond opposition, that men are +happy in proportion as they are virtuous, and rich as they are liberal. +The book is applauded, and the author is preferred; he imagines his +applause deserved, and receives less pleasure from the acquisition of +reward than the consciousness of merit. Let us look again upon mankind: +interest is still the ruling motive, and the world is yet full of fraud +and corruption, malevolence and rapine. + +The difficulty of confuting this assertion, arises merely from its +generality and comprehension; to overthrow it by a detail of distinct +facts, requires a wider survey of the world than human eyes can take; +the progress of reformation is gradual and silent, as the extension of +evening shadows; we know that they were short at noon, and are long at +sunset, but our senses were not able to discern their increase: we know +of every civil nation, that it was once savage, and how was it reclaimed +but by precept and admonition? + +Mankind are universally corrupt, but corrupt in different degrees; as +they are universally ignorant, yet with greater or less irradiations of +knowledge. How has knowledge or virtue been increased and preserved in +one place beyond another, but by diligent inculcation and rational +enforcement? + +Books of morality are daily written, yet its influence is still little +in the world; so the ground is annually ploughed, and yet multitudes are +in want of bread. But, surely, neither the labours of the moralist nor +of the husbandman are vain: let them for a while neglect their tasks, +and their usefulness will be known; the wickedness that is now frequent +will become universal, the bread that is now scarce would wholly fail. + +The power, indeed, of every individual is small, and the consequence of +his endeavours imperceptible, in a general prospect of the world. +Providence has given no man ability to do much, that something might be +left for every man to do. The business of life is carried on by a +general co-operation; in which the part of any single man can be no more +distinguished, than the effect of a particular drop when the meadows are +floated by a summer shower: yet every drop increases the inundation, and +every hand adds to the happiness or misery of mankind. + +That a writer, however zealous or eloquent, seldom works a visible +effect upon cities or nations, will readily be granted. The book which +is read most, is read by few, compared with those that read it not; and +of those few, the greater part peruse it with dispositions that very +little favour their own improvement. + +It is difficult to enumerate the several motives which procure to books +the honour of perusal: spite, vanity, and curiosity, hope and fear, love +and hatred, every passion which incites to any other action, serves at +one time or other to stimulate a reader. + +Some are fond to take a celebrated volume into their hands, because they +hope to distinguish their penetration, by finding faults which have +escaped the publick; others eagerly buy it in the first bloom of +reputation, that they may join the chorus of praise, and not lag, as +Falstaff terms it, in "the rearward of the fashion." + +Some read for style, and some for argument: one has little care about +the sentiment, he observes only how it is expressed; another regards not +the conclusion, but is diligent to mark how it is inferred: they read +for other purposes than the attainment of practical knowledge; and are +no more likely to grow wise by an examination of a treatise of moral +prudence, than an architect to inflame his devotion by considering +attentively the proportions of a temple. + +Some read that they may embellish their conversation, or shine in +dispute; some that they may not be detected in ignorance, or want the +reputation of literary accomplishments: but the most general and +prevalent reason of study is the impossibility of finding another +amusement equally cheap or constant, equally independent on the hour or +the weather. He that wants money to follow the chase of pleasure through +her yearly circuit, and is left at home when the gay world rolls to Bath +or Tunbridge; he whose gout compels him to hear from his chamber the +rattle of chariots transporting happier beings to plays and assemblies, +will be forced to seek in books a refuge from himself. + +The author is not wholly useless, who provides innocent amusements for +minds like these. There are, in the present state of things, so many +more instigations to evil, than incitements to good, that he who keeps +men in a neutral state, may be justly considered as a benefactor to +life. + +But, perhaps, it seldom happens, that study terminates in mere pastime. +Books have always a secret influence on the understanding; we cannot, at +pleasure, obliterate ideas: he that reads books of science, though +without any fixed desire of improvement, will grow more knowing; he that +entertains himself with moral or religious treatises, will imperceptibly +advance in goodness; the ideas which are often offered to the mind, will +at last find a lucky moment when it is disposed to receive them. + +It is, therefore, urged without reason, as a discouragement to writers, +that there are already books sufficient in the world; that all the +topicks of persuasion have been discussed, and every important question +clearly stated and justly decided; and that, therefore, there is no room +to hope, that pigmies should conquer where heroes have been defeated, or +that the petty copiers of the present time should advance the great work +of reformation, which their predecessors were forced to leave +unfinished. + +Whatever be the present extent of human knowledge, it is not only +finite, and therefore in its own nature capable of increase, but so +narrow, that almost every understanding may, by a diligent application +of its powers, hope to enlarge it. It is, however, not necessary that a +man should forbear to write, till he has discovered some truth unknown +before; he may be sufficiently useful, by only diversifying the surface +of knowledge, and luring the mind by a new appearance to a second view +of those beauties which it had passed over inattentively before. Every +writer may find intellects correspondent to his own, to whom his +expressions are familiar, and his thoughts congenial; and, perhaps, +truth is often more successfully propagated by men of moderate +abilities, who, adopting the opinions of others, have no care but to +explain them clearly, than by subtle speculatists and curious searchers, +who exact from their readers powers equal to their own, and if their +fabricks of science be strong, take no care to render them accessible. + +For my part, I do not regret the hours which I have laid out in these +little compositions. That the world has grown apparently better, since +the publication of the _Adventurer_, I have not observed; but am willing +to think, that many have been affected by single sentiments, of which it +is their business to renew the impression; that many have caught hints +of truth, which it is now their duty to pursue; and that those who have +received no improvement, have wanted not opportunity but intention to +improve. + + + + +No. 138. SATURDAY, MARCH 2, 1754. + + _Quid pure tranquillet; honos, an dulce lucellum, + An secretum iter, et fallentis semita vitae._ HOR. Lib, i. Ep. + xviii. 102. + + Whether the tranquil mind and pure, + Honours or wealth our bliss ensure: + Or down through life unknown to stray, + Where lonely leads the silent way. FRANCIS. + +Having considered the importance of authors to the welfare of the +publick, I am led by a natural train of thought, to reflect on their +condition with regard to themselves; and to inquire what degree of +happiness or vexation is annexed to the difficult and laborious +employment of providing instruction or entertainment for mankind. + +In estimating the pain or pleasure of any particular state, every man, +indeed, draws his decisions from his own breast, and cannot with +certainty determine whether other minds are affected by the same causes +in the same manner. Yet by this criterion we must be content to judge, +because no other can be obtained; and, indeed, we have no reason to +think it very fallacious, for excepting here and there an anomalous +mind, which either does not feel like others, or dissembles its +sensibility, we find men unanimously concur in attributing happiness or +misery to particular conditions, as they agree in acknowledging the cold +of winter and the heat of autumn. + +If we apply to authors themselves for an account of their state, it will +appear very little to deserve envy; for they have in all ages been +addicted to complaint. The neglect of learning, the ingratitude of the +present age, and the absurd preference by which ignorance and dulness +often obtain favour and rewards, have been from age to age topicks of +invective; and few have left their names to posterity, without some +appeal to future candour from the perverseness and malice of their own +times. + +I have, nevertheless, been often inclined to doubt, whether authors, +however querulous, are in reality more miserable than their fellow +mortals. The present life is to all a state of infelicity; every man, +like an author, believes himself to merit more than he obtains, and +solaces the present with the prospect of the future; others, indeed, +suffer those disappointments in silence, of which the writer complains, +to show how well he has learnt the art of lamentation. + +There is at least one gleam of felicity, of which few writers have +missed the enjoyment: he whose hopes have so far overpowered his fears, +as that he has resolved to stand forth a candidate for fame, seldom +fails to amuse himself, before his appearance, with pleasing scenes of +affluence or honour: while his fortune is yet under the regulation of +fancy, he easily models it to his wish, suffers no thoughts of criticks +or rivals to intrude upon his mind, but counts over the bounties of +patronage, or listens to the voice of praise. + +Some there are, that talk very luxuriously of the second period of an +author's happiness, and tell of the tumultuous raptures of invention, +when the mind riots in imagery, and the choice stands suspended between +different sentiments. + +These pleasures, I believe, may sometimes be indulged to those, who come +to a subject of disquisition with minds full of ideas, and with fancies +so vigorous, as easily to excite, select, and arrange them. To write is, +indeed, no unpleasing employment, when one sentiment readily produces +another, and both ideas and expressions present themselves at the first +summons; but such happiness, the greatest genius does not always obtain; +and common writers know it only to such a degree, as to credit its +possibility. Composition is, for the most part, an effort of slow +diligence and steady perseverance, to which the mind is dragged by +necessity or resolution, and from which the attention is every moment +starting to more delightful amusements. + +It frequently happens, that a design which, when considered at a +distance, gave flattering hopes of facility, mocks us in the execution +with unexpected difficulties; the mind which, while it considered it in +the gross, imagined itself amply furnished with materials, finds +sometimes an unexpected barrenness and vacuity, and wonders whither all +those ideas are vanished, which a little before seemed struggling for +emission. + +Sometimes many thoughts present themselves; but so confused and +unconnected, that they are not without difficulty reduced to method, or +concatenated in a regular and dependent series; the mind falls at once +into a labyrinth, of which neither the beginning nor end can be +discovered, and toils and struggles without progress or extrication. + +It is asserted by Horace, that, "if matter be once got together, words +will be found with very little difficulty;" a position which, though +sufficiently plausible to be inserted in poetical precepts, is by no +means strictly and philosophically true. If words were naturally and +necessarily consequential to sentiments, it would always follow, that he +who has most knowledge must have most eloquence, and that every man +would clearly express what he fully understood: yet we find, that to +think, and discourse, are often the qualities of different persons: and +many books might surely be produced, where just and noble sentiments are +degraded and obscured by unsuitable diction. + +Words, therefore, as well as things, claim the care of an author. Indeed +of many authors, and those not useless or contemptible, words are almost +the only care: many make it their study, not so much to strike out new +sentiments, as to recommend those which are already known to more +favourable notice by fairer decorations; but every man, whether he +copies or invents, whether he delivers his own thoughts or those of +another, has often found himself deficient in the power of expression, +big with ideas which he could not utter, obliged to ransack his memory +for terms adequate to his conceptions, and at last unable to impress +upon his reader the image existing in his own mind. + +It is one of the common distresses of a writer, to be within a word of a +happy period, to want only a single epithet to give amplification its +full force, to require only a correspondent term in order to finish a +paragraph with elegance, and make one of its members answer to the +other; but these deficiencies cannot always be supplied: and after a +long study and vexation, the passage is turned anew, and the web unwoven +that was so nearly finished. + +But when thoughts and words are collected and adjusted, and the whole +composition at last concluded, it seldom gratifies the author, when he +comes coolly and deliberately to review it, with the hopes which had +been excited in the fury of the performance: novelty always captivates +the mind; as our thoughts rise fresh upon us, we readily believe them +just and original, which, when the pleasure of production is over, we +find to be mean and common, or borrowed from the works of others, and +supplied by memory rather than invention. + +But though it should happen that the writer finds no such faults in his +performance, he is still to remember, that he looks upon it with partial +eyes: and when he considers, how much men, who could judge of others +with great exactness, have often failed of judging of themselves, he +will be afraid of deciding too hastily in his own favour, or of allowing +himself to contemplate with too much complacence, treasure that has not +yet been brought to the test, nor passed the only trial that can stamp +its value. + +From the publick, and only from the publick, is he to await a +confirmation of his claim, and a final justification of self-esteem; but +the publick is not easily persuaded to favour an author. If mankind were +left to judge for themselves, it is reasonable to imagine, that of such +writings, at least, as describe the movements of the human passions, and +of which every man carries the archetype within him, a just opinion +would be formed; but whoever has remarked the fate of books, must have +found it governed by other causes than general consent arising from +general conviction. If a new performance happens not to fall into the +hands of some who have courage to tell, and authority to propagate their +opinion, it often remains long in obscurity, and perishes unknown and +unexamined. A few, a very few, commonly constitute the taste of the +time; the judgment which they have once pronounced, some are too lazy to +discuss, and some too timorous to contradict; it may however be, I +think, observed, that their power is greater to depress than exalt, as +mankind are more credulous of censure than of praise. + +This perversion of the publick judgment is not to be rashly numbered +amongst the miseries of an author; since it commonly serves, after +miscarriage, to reconcile him to himself. Because the world has +sometimes passed an unjust sentence, he readily concludes the sentence +unjust by which his performance is condemned; because some have been +exalted above their merits by partiality, he is sure to ascribe the +success of a rival, not to the merit of his work, but the zeal of his +patrons. Upon the whole, as the author seems to share all the common +miseries of life, he appears to partake likewise of its lenitives and +abatements[1]. + +[1] See a pamphlet entitled "The Case of Authors by Profession," 8vo. + 1758. It is the production of Mr. James Ralph, who knew from painful + experience the bitter evils incident to an employment which yielded + a bare maintenance to Johnson himself. For anecdotes of Ralph, and + the work alluded to, see Dr. Drake's Essays on Rambler, &c. vol. i. + p. 96. + + + + + +THE IDLER. + + + + + +ADVERTISEMENT. + + +The IDLER having omitted to distinguish the essays of his correspondents +by any particular signature, thinks it necessary to inform his readers, +that from the ninth, the fifteenth, thirty-third, forty-second, +fifty-fourth, sixty-seventh, seventy-sixth, seventy-ninth, +eighty-second, ninety-third, ninety-sixth, and ninety-eighth papers, he +claims no other praise than that of having given them to the publick[1]. + +[1] The names of the Authors of these Papers, as far as known, will be +given in the course of the present edition. + + + + +THE IDLER. + + + + +No. 1. SATURDAY, APRIL 15, 1758. + + _--Vacui sub umbra + Lusimus_.--Hor. Lib. i. Ode xxxii. 1. + +Those who attempt periodical essays seem to be often stopped in the +beginning, by the difficulty of finding a proper title. Two writers, +since the time of the Spectator, have assumed his name[1] without any +pretensions to lawful inheritance; an effort was once made to revive the +Tatler[2], and the strange appellations, by which other papers have been +called, show that the authors were distressed, like the natives of +America, who come to the Europeans to beg a name. + +It will be easily believed of the Idler, that if his title had required +any search, he never would have found it. Every mode of life has its +conveniencies. The Idler, who habituates himself to be satisfied with +what he can most easily obtain, not only escapes labours which are often +fruitless, but sometimes succeeds better than those who despise all that +is within their reach, and think every thing more valuable as it is +harder to be acquired. + +If similitude of manners be a motive to kindness, the Idler may flatter +himself with universal patronage. There is no single character under +which such numbers are comprised. Every man is, or hopes to be, an +Idler. Even those who seem to differ most from us are hastening to +increase our fraternity; as peace is the end of war, so to be idle is +the ultimate purpose of the busy. + +There is perhaps no appellation by which a writer can better denote his +kindred to the human species. It has been found hard to describe man by +an adequate definition. Some philosophers have called him a reasonable +animal; but others have considered reason as a quality of which many +creatures partake. He has been termed likewise a laughing animal; but it +is said that some men have never laughed. Perhaps man may be more +properly distinguished as an idle animal; for there is no man who is not +sometimes idle. It is at least a definition from which none that shall +find it in this paper can be excepted; for who can be more idle than the +reader of the Idler? + +That the definition may be complete, idleness must be not only the +general, but the peculiar characteristick of man; and perhaps man is the +only being that can properly be called idle, that does by others what he +might do himself, or sacrifices duty or pleasure to the love of ease. + +Scarcely any name can be imagined from which less envy or competition is +to be dreaded. The Idler has no rivals or enemies. The man of business +forgets him; the man of enterprise despises him; and though such as +tread the same track of life fall commonly into jealousy and discord, +Idlers are always found to associate in peace; and he who is most famed +for doing nothing, is glad to meet another as idle as himself. + +What is to be expected from this paper, whether it will be uniform or +various, learned or familiar, serious or gay, political or moral, +continued or interrupted, it is hoped that no reader will inquire. That +the Idler has some scheme, cannot be doubted, for to form schemes is the +Idler's privilege. But though he has many projects in his head, he is +now grown sparing of communication, having observed, that his hearers +are apt to remember what he forgets himself; that his tardiness of +execution exposes him to the encroachments of those who catch a hint and +fall to work; and that very specious plans, after long contrivance and +pompous displays, have subsided in weariness without a trial, and +without miscarriage have been blasted by derision. + +Something the Idler's character may be supposed to promise. Those that +are curious after diminutive history, who watch the revolutions of +families, and the rise and fall of characters either male or female, +will hope to be gratified by this paper; for the Idler is always +inquisitive and seldom retentive. He that delights in obloquy and +satire, and wishes to see clouds gathering over any reputation that +dazzles him with its brightness, will snatch up the Idler's essays with +a beating heart. The Idler is naturally censorious; those who attempt +nothing themselves, think every thing easily performed, and consider the +unsuccessful always as criminal. + +I think it necessary to give notice, that I make no contract, nor incur +any obligation. If those who depend on the Idler for intelligence and +entertainment, should suffer the disappointment which commonly follows +ill-placed expectations, they are to lay the blame only on themselves. + +Yet hope is not wholly to be cast away. The Idler, though sluggish, is +yet alive, and may sometimes be stimulated to vigour and activity. He +may descend into profoundness, or tower into sublimity; for the +diligence of an Idler is rapid and impetuous, as ponderous bodies forced +into velocity move with violence proportionate to their weight. + +But these vehement exertions of intellect cannot be frequent, and he +will therefore gladly receive help from any correspondent, who shall +enable him to please without his own labour. He excludes no style, he +prohibits no subject; only let him that writes to the Idler remember, +that his letters must not be long; no words are to be squandered in +declarations of esteem, or confessions of inability; conscious dulness +has little right to be prolix, and praise is not so welcome to the Idler +as quiet. + + +[1] The Universal Spectator in 1728, by the celebrated antiquary William + Oldys. + + The Female Spectator in 1744, by Eliza Haywood. + + These were followed by the New Spectator in 1784; and lastly, by the + Country Spectator in 1792. This last is a production of very + considerable merit. + +[2] This attempt was made in 1750, under the title of the Tatler + Revived. After a short trial it completely failed. + + + + +No. 2. SATURDAY, APRIL 22, 1758. + + --_Toto non quater anno + Membranam_.--HOR. Lib. ii. Sat. iii. 1. + +Many positions are often on the tongue, and seldom in the mind; there +are many truths which every human being acknowledges and forgets. It is +generally known, that he who expects much will be often disappointed; +yet disappointment seldom cures us of expectation, or has any other +effect than that of producing a moral sentence, or peevish exclamation. +He that embarks in the voyage of life, will always wish to advance +rather by the impulse of the wind, than the strokes of the oar; and many +founder in the passage, while they lie waiting for the gale that is to +waft them to their wish. + +It will naturally be suspected that the Idler has lately suffered some +disappointment, and that he does not talk thus gravely for nothing. No +man is required to betray his own secrets. I will however, confess, that +I have now been a writer almost a week, and have not yet heard a single +word of praise, nor received one hint from any correspondent. + +Whence this negligence proceeds I am not able to discover. Many of my +predecessors have thought themselves obliged to return their +acknowledgments in the second paper, for the kind reception of the +first; and in a short time, apologies have become necessary to those +ingenious gentlemen and ladies, whose performances, though in the +highest degree elegant and learned, have been unavoidably delayed. + +What then will be thought of me, who, having experienced no kindness, +have no thanks to return; whom no gentleman or lady has yet enabled to +give any cause of discontent, and who have therefore no opportunity of +showing how skilfully I can pacify resentment, extenuate negligence, or +palliate rejection. + +I have long known that splendour of reputation is not to be counted +among the necessaries of life, and therefore shall not much repine if +praise be withheld till it is better deserved. But surely I may be +allowed to complain, that, in a nation of authors, not one has thought +me worthy of notice after so fair an invitation. + +At the time when the rage of writing has seized the old and young, when +the cook warbles her lyricks in the kitchen, and the thrasher +vociferates his heroicks in the barn; when our traders deal out +knowledge in bulky volumes, and our girls forsake their samplers to +teach kingdoms wisdom; it may seem very unnecessary to draw any more +from their proper occupations, by affording new opportunities of +literary fame[1]. + +I should be indeed unwilling to find that, for the sake of corresponding +with the Idler, the smith's iron had cooled on the anvil, or the +spinster's distaff stood unemployed. I solicit only the contributions of +those who have already devoted themselves to literature, or, without any +determinate intention, wander at large through the expanse of life, and +wear out the day in hearing at one place what they utter at another. + +Of these, a great part are already writers. One has a friend in the +country upon whom he exercises his powers; whose passions he raises and +depresses; whose understanding he perplexes with paradoxes, or +strengthens by argument; whose admiration he courts, whose praises he +enjoys; and who serves him instead of a senate or a theatre; as the +young soldiers in the Roman camp learned the use of their weapons by +fencing against a post in the place of an enemy. + +Another has his pockets filled with essays and epigrams, which he reads +from house to house, to select parties; and which his acquaintances are +daily entreating him to withhold no longer from the impatience of the +publick. + +If among these any one is persuaded, that, by such preludes of +composition, he has qualified himself to appear in the open world, and +is yet afraid of those censures which they who have already written, and +they who cannot write, are equally ready to fulminate against publick +pretenders to fame, he may, by transmitting his performances to the +Idler, make a cheap experiment of his abilities, and enjoy the pleasure +of success, without the hazard of miscarriage. + +Many advantages not generally known arise from this method of stealing +on the publick. The standing author of the paper is always the object of +critical malignity. Whatever is mean will be imputed to him, and +whatever is excellent be ascribed to his assistants. It does not much +alter the event, that the author and his correspondents are equally +unknown; for the author, whoever he be, is an individual, of whom every +reader has some fixed idea, and whom he is therefore unwilling to +gratify with applause; but the praises given to his correspondents are +scattered in the air, none can tell on whom they will light, and +therefore none are unwilling to bestow them. + +He that is known to contribute to a periodical work, needs no other +caution than not to tell what particular pieces are his own; such +secrecy is indeed very difficult; but if it can be maintained, it is +scarcely to be imagined at how small an expense he may grow +considerable. + +A person of quality, by a single paper, may engross the honour of a +volume. Fame is indeed dealt with a hand less and less bounteous through +the subordinate ranks, till it descends to the professed author, who +will find it very difficult to get more than he deserves; but every man +who does not want it, or who needs not value it, may have liberal +allowances; and, for five letters in the year sent to the Idler, of +which perhaps only two are printed, will be promoted to the first rank +of writers by those who are weary of the present race of wits, and wish +to sink them into obscurity before the lustre of a name not yet known +enough to be detested. + +[1] See Knox's Essays, Number 50. + + + + +No. 3. SATURDAY, APRIL 29, 1758. + + --_Otia vitae + Solamur cantu_. STAT. + +It has long been the complaint of those who frequent the theatres, that +all the dramatick art has been long exhausted, and that the vicissitudes +of fortune, and accidents of life, have been shown in every possible +combination, till the first scene informs us of the last, and the play +no sooner opens, than every auditor knows how it will conclude. When a +conspiracy is formed in a tragedy, we guess by whom it will be detected; +when a letter is dropt in a comedy, we can tell by whom it will be +found. Nothing is now left for the poet but character and sentiment, +which are to make their way as they can, without the soft anxiety of +suspense, or the enlivening agitation of surprise. + +A new paper lies under the same disadvantages as a new play. There is +danger lest it be new without novelty. My earlier predecessors had their +choice of vices and follies, and selected such as were most likely to +raise merriment or attract attention; they had the whole field of life +before them, untrodden and unsurveyed; characters of every kind shot up +in their way, and those of the most luxuriant growth, or most +conspicuous colours, were naturally cropt by the first sickle. They that +follow are forced to peep into neglected corners, to note the casual +varieties of the same species, and to recommend themselves by minute +industry and distinctions too subtle for common eyes. + +Sometimes it may happen, that the haste or negligence of the first +inquirers has left enough behind to reward another search; sometimes new +objects start up under the eye, and he that is looking for one kind of +matter, is amply gratified by the discovery of another. But still it +must be allowed, that, as more is taken, less can remain; and every +truth brought newly to light impoverishes the mine, from which +succeeding intellects are to dig their treasures. + +Many philosophers imagine, that the elements themselves may be in time +exhausted; that the sun, by shining long, will effuse all its light; and +that, by the continual waste of aqueous particles, the whole earth will +at last become a sandy desert. + +I would not advise my readers to disturb themselves by contriving how +they shall live without light and water. For the days of universal +thirst and perpetual darkness are at a great distance. The ocean and the +sun will last our time, and we may leave posterity to shift for +themselves. + +But if the stores of nature are limited, much more narrow bounds must be +set to the modes of life; and mankind may want a moral or amusing paper, +many years before they shall be deprived of drink or day-light. This +want, which to the busy and the inventive may seem easily remediable by +some substitute or other, the whole race of Idlers will feel with all +the sensibility that such torpid animals can suffer. + +When I consider the innumerable multitudes that, having no motive of +desire, or determination of will, lie freezing in perpetual inactivity, +till some external impulse puts them in motion; who awake in the +morning, vacant of thought, with minds gaping for the intellectual food, +which some kind essayist has been accustomed to supply; I am moved by +the commiseration with which all human beings ought to behold the +distresses of each other, to try some expedients for their relief, and +to inquire by what methods the listless may be actuated, and the empty +be replenished. + +There are said to be pleasures in madness known only to madmen. There +are certainly miseries in idleness, which the Idler only can conceive. +These miseries I have often felt and often bewailed. I know by +experience, how welcome is every avocation that summons the thoughts to +a new image; and how much languor and lassitude are relieved by that +officiousness which offers a momentary amusement to him who is unable to +find it for himself. + +It is naturally indifferent to this race of men what entertainment they +receive, so they are but entertained. They catch, with equal eagerness, +at a moral lecture, or the memoirs of a robber; a prediction of the +appearance of a comet, or the calculation of the chances of a lottery. + +They might therefore easily be pleased, if they consulted only their own +minds; but those who will not take the trouble to think for themselves, +have always somebody to think for them; and the difficulty in writing is +to please those from whom others learn to be pleased. + +Much mischief is done in the world with very little interest or design. +He that assumes the character of a critick, and justifies his claim by +perpetual censure, imagines that he is hurting none but the author, and +him he considers as a pestilent animal, whom every other being has a +right to persecute; little does he think how many harmless men he +involves in his own guilt, by teaching them to be noxious without +malignity, and to repeat objections which they do not understand; or how +many honest minds he debars from pleasure, by exciting an artificial +fastidiousness, and making them too wise to concur with their own +sensations. He who is taught by a critick to dislike that which pleased +him in his natural state, has the same reason to complain of his +instructer, as the madman to rail at his doctor, who, when he thought +himself master of Peru, physicked him to poverty. + +If men will struggle against their own advantage, they are not to expect +that the Idler will take much pains upon them; he has himself to please +as well as them, and has long learned, or endeavoured to learn, not to +make the pleasure of others too necessary to his own. + + + + +No. 4. SATURDAY, MAY 6, 1758. + + [Greek: Pantas gar phileeske.] HOM. + +Charity, or tenderness for the poor, which is now justly considered, by +a great part of mankind, as inseparable from piety, and in which almost +all the goodness of the present age consists, is, I think, known only to +those who enjoy, either immediately or by transmission, the light of +revelation. + +Those ancient nations who have given us the wisest models of government, +and the brightest examples of patriotism, whose institutions have been +transcribed by all succeeding legislatures, and whose history is studied +by every candidate for political or military reputation, have yet left +behind them no mention of alms-houses or hospitals, or places where age +might repose, or sickness be relieved. + +The Roman emperours, indeed, gave large donatives to the citizens and +soldiers, but these distributions were always reckoned rather popular +than virtuous: nothing more was intended than an ostentation of +liberality, nor was any recompense expected, but suffrages and +acclamations. + +Their beneficence was merely occasional; he that ceased to need the +favour of the people, ceased likewise to court it; and, therefore, no +man thought it either necessary or wise to make any standing provision +for the needy, to look forwards to the wants of posterity, or to secure +successions of charity, for successions of distress. + +Compassion is by some reasoners, on whom the name of philosophers has +been too easily conferred, resolved into an affection merely selfish, an +involuntary perception of pain at the involuntary sight of a being like +ourselves languishing in misery. But this sensation, if ever it be felt +at all from the brute instinct of uninstructed nature, will only produce +effects desultory and transient; it will never settle into a principle +of action, or extend relief to calamities unseen, in generations not yet +in being. + +The devotion of life or fortune to the succour of the poor, is a height +of virtue, to which humanity has never risen by its own power. The +charity of the Mahometans is a precept which their teacher evidently +transplanted from the doctrines of Christianity; and the care with which +some of the Oriental sects attend, as is said, to the necessities of the +diseased and indigent, may be added to the other arguments, which prove +Zoroaster to have borrowed his institutions from the law of Moses. + +The present age, though not likely to shine hereafter among the most +splendid periods of history, has yet given examples of charity, which +may be very properly recommended to imitation. The equal distribution of +wealth, which long commerce has produced, does not enable any single +hand to raise edifices of piety like fortified cities, to appropriate +manors to religious uses, or deal out such large and lasting beneficence +as was scattered over the land in ancient times, by those who possessed +counties or provinces. But no sooner is a new species of misery brought +to view, and a design of relieving it professed, than every hand is open +to contribute something, every tongue is busied in solicitation, and +every art of pleasure is employed for a time in the interest of virtue. + +The most apparent and pressing miseries incident to man, have now their +peculiar houses of reception and relief; and there are few among us, +raised however little above the danger of poverty, who may not justly +claim, what is implored by the Mahometans in their most ardent +benedictions, the prayers of the poor. + +Among those actions which the mind can most securely review with +unabated pleasure, is that of having contributed to an hospital for the +sick. Of some kinds of charity the consequences are dubious: some evils +which beneficence has been busy to remedy, are not certainly known to be +very grievous to the sufferer, or detrimental to the community; but no +man can question whether wounds and sickness are not really painful; +whether it be not worthy of a good man's care to restore those to ease +and usefulness, from whose labour infants and women expect their bread, +and who, by a casual hurt, or lingering disease, lie pining in want and +anguish, burthensome to others, and weary of themselves. + +Yet as the hospitals of the present time subsist only by gifts bestowed +at pleasure, without any solid fund of support, there is danger lest the +blaze of charity, which now burns with so much heat and splendour, +should die away for want of lasting fuel; lest fashion should suddenly +withdraw her smile, and inconstancy transfer the publick attention to +something which may appear more eligible, because it will be new. + +Whatever is left in the hands of chance must be subject to vicissitude; +and when any establishment is found to be useful, it ought to be the +next care to make it permanent. + +But man is a transitory being, and his designs must partake of the +imperfections of their author. To confer duration is not always in our +power. We must snatch the present moment, and employ it well, without +too much solicitude for the future, and content ourselves with +reflecting that our part is performed. He that waits for an opportunity +to do much at once, may breathe out his life in idle wishes, and regret, +in the last hour, his useless intentions, and barren zeal. + +The most active promoters of the present schemes of charity cannot be +cleared from some instances of misconduct, which may awaken contempt or +censure, and hasten that neglect which is likely to come too soon of +itself. The open competitions between different hospitals, and the +animosity with which their patrons oppose one another, may prejudice +weak minds against them all. For it will not be easily believed, that +any man can, for good reasons, wish to exclude another from doing good. +The spirit of charity can only be continued by a reconciliation of these +ridiculous feuds; and therefore, instead of contentions who shall be the +only benefactors to the needy, let there be no other struggle than who +shall be the first. + + + + +No. 5. SATURDAY, MAY 13, 1758. + + --[Greek: Kallos + Ant egcheon hapanton + Ant aspidon hapason]. ANAC. + +Our military operations are at last begun; our troops are marching in +all the pomp of war, and a camp is marked out on the Isle of Wight; the +heart of every Englishman now swells with confidence, though somewhat +softened by generous compassion for the consternation and distresses of +our enemies. + +This formidable armament and splendid march produce different effects +upon different minds, according to the boundless diversities of temper, +occupation, and habits of thought. + +Many a tender maiden considers her lover as already lost, because he +cannot reach the camp but by crossing the sea; men of a more political +understanding are persuaded that we shall now see, in a few days, the +ambassadours of France supplicating for pity. Some are hoping for a +bloody battle, because a bloody battle makes a vendible narrative; some +are composing songs of victory; some planning arches of triumph; and +some are mixing fireworks for the celebration of a peace. + +Of all extensive and complicated objects, different parts are selected +by different eyes; and minds are variously affected, as they vary their +attention. The care of the publick is now fixed upon our soldiers, who +are leaving their native country to wander, none can tell how long, in +the pathless deserts of the Isle of Wight. The tender sigh for their +sufferings, and the gay drink to their success. I, who look, or believe +myself to look, with more philosophick eyes on human affairs, must +confess, that I saw the troops march with little emotion; my thoughts +were fixed upon other scenes, and the tear stole into my eyes, not for +those who were going away, but for those who were left behind. + +We have no reason to doubt but our troops will proceed with proper +caution; there are men among them who can take care of themselves. But +how shall the ladies endure without them? By what arts can they, who +have long had no joy but from the civilities of a soldier, now amuse +their hours, and solace their separation? + +Of fifty thousand men, now destined to different stations, if we allow +each to have been occasionally necessary only to four women, a short +computation will inform us, that two hundred thousand ladies are left to +languish in distress; two hundred thousand ladies, who must run to sales +and auctions without an attendant; sit at the play, without a critick to +direct their opinion; buy their fans by their own judgment; dispose +shells by their own invention; walk in the Mall without a gallant; go to +the gardens without a protector; and shuffle cards with vain impatience, +for want of a fourth to complete the party. + +Of these ladies, some, I hope, have lap-dogs, and some monkeys; but they +are unsatisfactory companions. Many useful offices are performed by men +of scarlet, to which neither dog nor monkey has adequate abilities. A +parrot, indeed, is as fine as a colonel, and, if he has been much used +to good company, is not wholly without conversation; but a parrot, after +all, is a poor little creature, and has neither sword nor shoulder-knot, +can neither dance nor play at cards. + +Since the soldiers must obey the call of their duty, and go to that side +of the kingdom which faces France, I know not why the ladies, who cannot +live without them, should not follow them. The prejudices and pride of +man have long presumed the sword and spindle made for different hands, +and denied the other sex to partake the grandeur of military glory. This +notion may be consistently enough received in France, where the salick +law excludes females from the throne; but we, who allow them to be +sovereigns, may surely suppose them capable to be soldiers. + +It were to be wished that some man, whose experience and authority might +enforce regard, would propose that our encampments for the present year +should comprise an equal number of men and women, who should march and +fight in mingled bodies. If proper colonels were once appointed, and the +drums ordered to beat for female volunteers, our regiments would soon be +filled without the reproach or cruelty of an impress. + +Of these heroines, some might serve on foot under the denomination of +the _Female Buffs_, and some on horseback, with the title of _Lady +Hussars_. + +What objections can be made to this scheme I have endeavoured maturely +to consider; and cannot find that a modern soldier has any duties, +except that of obedience, which a lady cannot perform. If the hair has +lost its powder, a lady has a puff; if a coat be spotted, a lady has a +brush. Strength is of less importance since fire-arms have been used; +blows of the hand are now seldom exchanged; and what is there to be done +in the charge or the retreat beyond the powers of a sprightly maiden? + +Our masculine squadrons will not suppose themselves disgraced by their +auxiliaries, till they have done something which women could not have +done. The troops of Braddock never saw their enemies, and perhaps were +defeated by women. If our American general had headed an army of girls, +he might still have built a fort and taken it. Had Minorca been defended +by a female garrison, it might have been surrendered, as it was, without +a breach; and I cannot but think, that seven thousand women might have +ventured to look at Rochfort, sack a village, rob a vineyard, and return +in safety. + + + + +No. 6. SATURDAY, MAY 20, 1758. + + [Greek: Tameion aretaes gennaia gynae]. GR. PRO. + +The lady who had undertaken to ride on one horse a thousand miles in a +thousand hours, has completed her journey in little more than two-thirds +of the time stipulated, and was conducted through the last mile with +triumphal honours. Acclamation shouted before her, and all the flowers +of the spring were scattered in her way. + +Every heart ought to rejoice when true merit is distinguished with +publick notice. I am far from wishing either to the amazon or her horse +any diminution of happiness or fame, and cannot but lament that they +were not more amply and suitably rewarded. + +There was once a time when wreaths of bays or oak were considered as +recompenses equal to the most wearisome labours and terrifick dangers, +and when the miseries of long marches and stormy seas were at once +driven from the remembrance by the fragrance of a garland. + +If this heroine had been born in ancient times, she might perhaps have +been delighted with the simplicity of ancient gratitude; or if any thing +was wanting to full satisfaction, she might have supplied the deficiency +with the hope of deification, and anticipated the altars that would be +raised, and the vows that would be made, by future candidates for +equestrian glory, to the patroness of the race and the goddess of the +stable. + +But fate reserved her for a more enlightened age, which has discovered +leaves and flowers to be transitory things; which considers profit as +the end of honour; and rates the event of every undertaking only by the +money that is gained or lost. In these days, to strew the road with +daisies and lilies, is to mock merit, and delude hope. The toyman will +not give his jewels, nor the mercer measure out his silks, for vegetable +coin. A primrose, though picked up under the feet of the most renowned +courser, will neither be received as a stake at cards, nor procure a +seat at an opera, nor buy candles for a rout, nor lace for a livery. And +though there are many virtuosos, whose sole ambition is to possess +something which can be found in no other hand, yet some are more +accustomed to store their cabinets by theft than purchase, and none of +them would either steal or buy one of the flowers of gratulation till he +knows that all the rest are totally destroyed. + +Little therefore did it avail this wonderful lady to be received, +however joyfully, with such obsolete and barren ceremonies of praise. +Had the way been covered with guineas, though but for the tenth part of +the last mile, she would have considered her skill and diligence as not +wholly lost; and might have rejoiced in the speed and perseverance which +had left her such superfluity of time, that she could at leisure gather +her reward without the danger of Atalanta's miscarriage. + +So much ground could not indeed have been paved with gold but at a large +expense, and we are at present engaged in a war, which demands and +enforces frugality. But common rules are made only for common life, and +some deviation from general policy may be allowed in favour of a lady +that rode a thousand miles in a thousand hours. + +Since the spirit of antiquity so much prevails amongst us, that even on +this great occasion we have given flowers instead of money, let us at +least complete our imitation of the ancients, and endeavour to transmit +to posterity the memory of that virtue, which we consider as superior to +pecuniary recompense. Let an equestrian statue of this heroine be +erected, near the starting-post on the heath of Newmarket, to fill +kindred souls with emulation, and tell the grand-daughters of our +grand-daughters what an English maiden has once performed. + +As events, however illustrious, are soon obscured if they are intrusted +to tradition, I think it necessary, that the pedestal should be +inscribed with a concise account of this great performance. The +composition of this narrative ought not to be committed rashly to +improper hands. If the rhetoricians of Newmarket, who may be supposed +likely to conceive in its full strength the dignity of the subject, +should undertake to express it, there is danger lest they admit some +phrases which, though well understood at present, may be ambiguous in +another century. If posterity should read on a publick monument, that +_the lady carried her horse a thousand miles in a thousand hours_, they +may think that the statue and inscription are at variance, because one +will represent the horse as carrying his lady, and the other tell that +the lady carried her horse. + +Some doubts likewise may be raised by speculatists, and some +controversies be agitated among historians, concerning the motive as +well as the manner of the action. As it will be known, that this wonder +was performed in a time of war, some will suppose that the lady was +frighted by invaders, and fled to preserve her life or her chastity: +others will conjecture, that she was thus honoured for some intelligence +carried of the enemy's designs: some will think that she brought news of +a victory; others, that she was commissioned to tell of a conspiracy; +and some will congratulate themselves on their acuter penetration, and +find, that all these notions of patriotism and publick spirit are +improbable and chimerical; they will confidently tell, that she only ran +away from her guardians, and that the true causes of her speed were fear +and love. + +Let it therefore be carefully mentioned, that by this performance _she +won her wager_; and, lest this should, by any change of manners, seem an +inadequate or incredible incitement, let it be added, that at this time +the original motives of human actions had lost their influence; that the +love of praise was extinct; the fear of infamy was become ridiculous; +and the only wish of an Englishman was, _to win his wager_[1]. + +[1] The incident, so pleasingly ridiculed in this paper, happened in + 1758; and the newspapers of the time gave it due importance. + + + + +No. 7. SATURDAY, MAY 27, 1758. + +One of the principal amusements of the _Idler_ is to read the works of +those minute historians the writers of news, who, though contemptuously +overlooked by the composers of bulky volumes, are yet necessary in a +nation where much wealth produces much leisure, and one part of the +people has nothing to do but to observe the lives and fortunes of the +other. + +To us, who are regaled every morning and evening with intelligence, and +are supplied from day to day with materials for conversation, it is +difficult to conceive how man can subsist without a newspaper, or to +what entertainment companies can assemble, in those wide regions of the +earth that have neither _Chronicles_ nor _Magazines_, neither _Gazettes_ +nor _Advertisers_, neither _Journals_ nor _Evening Posts_. + +There are never great numbers in any nation, whose reason or invention +can find employment for their tongues, who can raise a pleasing +discourse from their own stock of sentiments and images; and those few +who have qualified themselves by speculation for general disquisitions +are soon left without an audience. The common talk of men must relate to +facts in which the talkers have, or think they have, an interest; and +where such facts cannot be known, the pleasures of society will be +merely sensual. Thus the natives of the Mahometan empires, who approach +most nearly to European civility, have no higher pleasure at their +convivial assemblies than to hear a piper, or gaze upon a tumbler; and +no company can keep together longer than they are diverted by sounds or +shows. + +All foreigners remark, that the knowledge of the common people of +England is greater than that of any other vulgar. This superiority we +undoubtedly owe to the rivulets of intelligence, which are continually +trickling among us, which every one may catch, and of which every one +partakes[1]. + +This universal diffusion of instruction is, perhaps, not wholly without +its inconveniencies; it certainly fills the nation with superficial +disputants; enables those to talk who were born to work; and affords +information sufficient to elate vanity, and stiffen obstinacy, but too +little to enlarge the mind into complete skill for full comprehension. + +Whatever is found to gratify the publick, will be multiplied by the +emulation of venders beyond necessity or use. This plenty indeed +produces cheapness, but cheapness always ends in negligence and +depravation. + +The compilation of newspapers is often committed to narrow and mercenary +minds, not qualified for the task of delighting or instructing; who are +content to fill their paper, with whatever matter, without industry to +gather, or discernment to select. + +Thus journals are daily multiplied without increase of knowledge. The +tale of the morning paper is told again in the evening, and the +narratives of the evening are bought again in the morning. These +repetitions, indeed, waste time, but they do not shorten it. The most +eager peruser of news is tired before he has completed his labour; and +many a man, who enters the coffee-house in his nightgown and slippers, +is called away to his shop, or his dinner, before he has well considered +the state of Europe. + +It is discovered by Reaumur, that spiders might make silk, if they could +be persuaded to live in peace together. The writers of news, if they +could be confederated, might give more pleasure to the publick. The +morning and evening authors might divide an event between them; a single +action, and that not of much importance, might be gradually discovered, +so as to vary a whole week with joy, anxiety, and conjecture. + +We know that a French ship of war was lately taken by a ship of England; +but this event was suffered to burst upon us all at once, and then what +we knew already was echoed from day to day, and from week to week. + +Let us suppose these spiders of literature to spin together, and inquire +to what an extensive web such another event might be regularly drawn, +and how six morning and six evening writers might agree to retail their +articles. + +On _Monday Morning_ the Captain of a ship might arrive, who left the +_Friseur_ of _France_, and the _Bull-dog_, Captain _Grim_, in sight of +one another, so that an engagement seemed unavoidable. + +_Monday Evening._ A sound of cannon was heard off Cape Finisterre, +supposed to be those of the Bull-dog and Friseur. + +_Tuesday Morning._ It was this morning reported that the Bull-dog +engaged the Friseur, yard-arm and yard-arm, three glasses and a half, +but was obliged to sheer off for want of powder. It is hoped that +inquiry will be made into this affair in a proper place. + +_Tuesday Evening._ The account of the engagement between the Bull-dog +and Friseur was premature. + +_Wednesday Morning._ Another express is arrived, which brings news, that +the Friseur had lost all her masts, and three hundred of her men, in the +late engagement; and that Captain Grim is come into harbour much +shattered. + +_Wednesday Evening._ We hear that the brave Captain Grim, having +expended his powder, proposed to enter the Friseur sword in hand; but +that his lieutenant, the nephew of a certain nobleman, remonstrated +against it. + +_Thursday Morning_. We wait impatiently for a full account of the late +engagement between the Bull-dog and Friseur. + +_Thursday Evening_. It is said the order of the Bath will be sent to +Captain Grim. + +_Friday Morning_. A certain Lord of the Admiralty has been heard to say +of a certain Captain, that if he had done his duty, a certain French +ship might have been taken. It was not thus that merit was rewarded in +the days of Cromwell. + +_Friday Evening_. There is certain information at the Admiralty, that +the Friseur is taken, after a resistance of two hours. + +_Saturday Morning_. A letter from one of the gunners of the Bull-dog +mentions the taking of the Friseur, and attributes their success wholly +to the bravery and resolution of Captain Grim, who never owed any of his +advancement to borough-jobbers, or any other corrupters of the people. + +_Saturday Evening_. Captain Grim arrived at the Admiralty, with an +account that he engaged the Friseur, a ship of equal force with his own, +off Cape Finisterre, and took her after an obstinate resistance, having +killed one hundred and fifty of the French, with the loss of ninety-five +of his own men. + + + +[1] For some pleasing remarks on this subject see De Lolme on the + constitution of England, chap. 12. We cannot retrain from quoting + here the speech of Sir James Mackintosh in the well known Peltier + cause. "A sort of prophetic instinct, if I may so speak, seems to + have revealed to her (Queen Elizabeth) the importance of that great + instrument, for rousing and guiding the minds of men, of the effects + of which she had no experience; which, since her time, has changed + the condition of the world; but which few modern statesmen have + thoroughly understood, or wisely employed; which is no doubt + connected with many ridiculous and degrading details; which has + produced, and may again produce, terrible mischiefs; but of which + the influence must after all be considered as the most certain + effect of the most efficacious cause of civilization; and which, + whether it be a blessing or a curse, is the most powerful engine + that a politician can move--I mean the Press. It is a curious fact, + that in the year of the Armada, Queen Elizabeth caused to be printed + the first Gazettes that ever appeared in England." + + + + +No. 8. SATURDAY, JUNE 3, 1758. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Sir, + +In the time of publick danger, it is every man's duty to withdraw his +thoughts in some measure from his private interest, and employ part of +his time for the general welfare. National conduct ought to be the +result of national wisdom, a plan formed by mature consideration and +diligent selection out of all the schemes which may be offered, and all +the information which can be procured. + +In a battle, every man should fight as if he was the single champion; in +preparations for war, every man should think, as if the last event +depended on his counsel. None can tell what discoveries are within his +reach, or how much he may contribute to the publick safety. + +Full of these considerations, I have carefully reviewed the process of +the war, and find, what every other man has found, that we have hitherto +added nothing to our military reputation: that at one time we have been +beaten by enemies whom we did not see; and, at another, have avoided the +sight of enemies lest we should be beaten. + +Whether our troops are defective in discipline or in courage, is not +very useful to inquire; they evidently want something necessary to +success; and he that shall supply that want will deserve well of his +country. + +_To learn of an enemy_ has always been accounted politick and +honourable; and therefore I hope it will raise no prejudices against my +project, to confess that I borrowed it from a Frenchman. + +When the Isle of Rhodes was, many centuries ago, in the hands of that +military order now called the Knights of Malta, it was ravaged by a +dragon, who inhabited a den under a rock, from which he issued forth +when he was hungry or wanton, and without fear or mercy devoured men and +beasts as they came in his way. Many councils were held, and many +devices offered, for his destruction; but as his back was armed with +impenetrable scales, none would venture to attack him. At last Dudon, a +French knight, undertook the deliverance of the island. From some place +of security, he took a view of the dragon, or, as a modern soldier would +say, _reconnoitred_ him, and observed that his belly was naked and +vulnerable. He then returned home to make his _arrangements_; and, by a +very exact imitation of nature, made a dragon of pasteboard, in the +belly of which he put beef and mutton, and accustomed two sturdy +mastiffs to feed themselves by tearing their way to the concealed flesh. +When his dogs were well practised in this method of plunder, he marched +out with them at his heels, and showed them the dragon; they rushed upon +him in quest of their dinner; Dudon battered his scull, while they +lacerated his belly; and neither his sting nor claws were able to defend +him. + +Something like this might be practised in our present state. Let a +fortification be raised on Salisbury Plain, resembling Brest, or Toulon, +or Paris itself, with all the usual preparation for defence; let the +inclosure be filled with beef and ale: let the soldiers, from some +proper eminence, see shirts waving upon lines, and here and there a +plump landlady hurrying about with pots in her hands. When they are +sufficiently animated to advance, lead them in exact order, with fife +and drum, to that side whence the wind blows, till they come within the +scent of roast meat and tobacco. Contrive that they may approach the +place fasting about an hour after dinner-time, assure them that there is +no danger, and command an attack. + +If nobody within either moves or speaks, it is not unlikely that they +may carry the place by storm; but if a panick should seize them, it will +be proper to defer the enterprise to a more hungry hour. When they have +entered, let them fill their bellies and return to the camp. + +On the next day let the same place be shown them again, but with some +additions of strength or terrour. I cannot pretend to inform our +generals through what gradations of danger they should train their men +to fortitude. They best know what the soldiers and what themselves can +bear. It will be proper that the war should every day vary its +appearance. Sometimes, as they mount the rampart, a cook may throw fat +upon the fire, to accustom them to a sudden blaze; and sometimes, by the +clatter of empty pots, they may be inured to formidable noises. But let +it never be forgotten, that victory must repose with a full belly. + +In time it will be proper to bring our French prisoners from the coast, +and place them upon the walls in martial order. At their first +appearance their hands must be tied, but they may be allowed to grin. In +a month they may guard the place with their hands loosed, provided that +on pain of death they be forbidden to strike. + +By this method our army will soon be brought to look an enemy in the +face. But it has been lately observed, that fear is received by the ear +as well as the eyes; and the Indian war-cry is represented as too +dreadful to be endured; as a sound that will force the bravest veteran +to drop his weapon, and desert his rank; that will deafen his ear, and +chill his breast; that will neither suffer him to hear orders or to feel +shame, or retain any sensibility but the dread of death. + +That the savage clamours of naked barbarians should thus terrify troops +disciplined to war, and ranged in array with arms in their hands, is +surely strange. But this is no time to reason. I am of opinion, that by +a proper mixture of asses, bulls, turkeys, geese, and tragedians, a +noise might be procured equally horrid with the war-cry. When our men +have been encouraged by frequent victories, nothing will remain but to +qualify them for extreme danger, by a sudden concert of terrifick +vociferation. When they have endured this last trial, let them be led to +action, as men who are no longer to be frightened; as men who can bear +at once the grimaces of the Gauls, and the howl of the Americans. + + + + +No. 9. SATURDAY, JUNE 10, 1758. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Sir, + +I have read you; that is a favour few authors can boast of having +received from me besides yourself. My intention in telling you of it is +to inform you, that you have both pleased and angered me. Never did +writer appear so delightful to me as you did when you adopted the name +of the _Idler_. But what a falling off was there when your first +production was brought to light! A natural irresistible attachment to +that favourable passion, _idling_, had led me to hope for indulgence +from the _Idler_, but I find him a stranger to the title. + +What rules has he proposed totally to unbrace the slackened nerve; to +shade the heavy eye of inattention; to give the smooth feature and the +uncontracted muscle; or procure insensibility to the whole animal +composition? + +These were some of the placid blessings I promised myself the enjoyment +of, when I committed violence upon myself by mustering up all my +strength to set about reading you; but I am disappointed in them all, +and the stroke of eleven in the morning is still as terrible to me as +before, and I find putting on my clothes still as painful and laborious. +Oh that our climate would permit that original nakedness which the +thrice happy Indians to this day enjoy! How many unsolicitous hours +should I bask away, warmed in bed by the sun's glorious beams, could I, +like them, tumble from thence in a moment, when necessity obliges me to +endure the torment of getting upon my legs! + +But wherefore do I talk to you upon subjects of this delicate nature? +you who seem ignorant of the inexpressible charms of the elbow-chair, +attended with a soft stool for the elevation of the feet! Thus, vacant +of thought, do I indulge the live-long day. + +You may define happiness as you please; I embrace that opinion which +makes it consist in the absence of pain. To reflect is pain; to stir is +pain; therefore I never reflect or stir but when I cannot help it. +Perhaps you will call my scheme of life indolence, and therefore think +the _Idler_ excused from taking any notice of me; but I have always +looked upon indolence and idleness as the same; and so desire you will +now and then, while you profess yourself of our fraternity, take some +notice of me, and others in my situation, who think they have a right to +your assistance; or relinquish the name. + +You may publish, burn, or destroy this, just as you are in the humour; +it is ten to one but I forget that I wrote it, before it reaches you. I +believe you may find a motto for it in Horace, but I cannot reach him +without getting out of my chair; that is a sufficient reason for my not +affixing any.--And being obliged to sit upright to ring the bell for my +servant to convey this to the penny-post, if I slip the opportunity of +his being now in the room, makes me break off abruptly[1]. + +This correspondent, whoever he be, is not to be dismissed without some +tokens of regard. There is no mark more certain of a genuine Idler, than +uneasiness without molestation, and complaint without a grievance. + +Yet my gratitude to the contributor of half a paper shall not wholly +overpower my sincerity. I must inform him, that, with all his +pretensions, he that calls for directions to be idle, is yet but in the +rudiments of idleness, and has attained neither the practice nor theory +of wasting life. The true nature of idleness he will know in time, by +continuing to be idle. Virgil tells us of an impetuous and rapid being, +that acquires strength by motion. The Idler acquires weight by lying +still. + +The _vis inertiae_, the quality of resisting all external impulses, is +hourly increasing; the restless and troublesome faculties of attention +and distinction, reflection on the past, and solicitude for the future, +by a long indulgence of idleness, will, like tapers in unelastick air, +be gradually extinguished; and the officious lover, the vigilant +soldier, the busy trader, may, by a judicious composure of his mind, +sink into a state approaching to that of brute matter; in which he shall +retain the consciousness of his own existence, only by an obtuse languor +and drowsy discontent. + +This is the lowest stage to which the favourites of idleness can +descend; these regions of undelighted quiet can be entered by few. Of +those that are prepared to sink down into their shade, some are roused +into action by avarice or ambition, some are awakened by the voice of +fame, some allured by the smile of beauty, and many withheld by the +importunities of want. Of all the enemies of idleness, want is the most +formidable. Fame is soon found to be a sound, and love a dream; avarice +and ambition may be justly suspected of privy confederacies with +idleness; for, when they have for a while protected their votaries, they +often deliver them up to end their lives under her dominion. Want always +struggles against idleness, but want herself is often overcome; and +every hour shows the careful observer those who had rather live in ease +than in plenty. + +So wide is the region of Idleness, and so powerful her influence. But +she does not immediately confer all her gifts. My correspondent, who +seems, with all his errours, worthy of advice, must be told, that he is +calling too hastily for the last effusion of total insensibility. +Whatever he may have been taught by unskilful Idlers to believe, labour +is necessary in his initiation to idleness. He that never labours may +know the pains of idleness, but not the pleasure. The comfort is, that +if he devotes himself to insensibility, he will daily lengthen the +intervals of idleness, and shorten those of labour, till at last he will +lie down to rest, and no longer disturb the world or himself by bustle +or competition. + +Thus I have endeavoured to give him that information which, perhaps, +after all, he did not want; for a true Idler often calls for that which +he knows is never to be had, and asks questions which he does not desire +ever to be answered. + +[1] By an unknown correspondent. + + + + +No. 10. SATURDAY, JUNE 17, 1758. + +Credulity, or confidence of opinion too great for the evidence from +which opinion is derived, we find to be a general weakness imputed by +every sect and party to all others, and indeed by every man to every +other man. + +Of all kinds of credulity, the most obstinate and wonderful is that of +political zealots; of men, who being numbered, they know not how or why, +in any of the parties that divide a state, resign the use of their own +eyes and ears, and resolve to believe nothing that does not favour those +whom they profess to follow. + +The bigot of philosophy is seduced by authorities which he has not +always opportunities to examine, is entangled in systems by which truth +and falsehood are inextricably complicated, or undertakes to talk on +subjects which nature did not form him able to comprehend. + +The Cartesian, who denies that his horse feels the spur, or that the +hare is afraid when the hounds approach her; the disciple of Malbranche, +who maintains that the man was not hurt by the bullet, which, according +to vulgar apprehension, swept away his legs; the follower of Berkeley, +who while he sits writing at his table, declares that he has neither +table, paper, nor fingers; have all the honour at least of being +deceived by fallacies not easily detected, and may plead that they did +not forsake truth, but for appearances which they were not able to +distinguish from it. + +But the man who engages in a party has seldom to do with any thing +remote or abstruse. The present state of things is before his eyes; and, +if he cannot be satisfied without retrospection, yet he seldom extends +his views beyond the historical events of the last century. All the +knowledge that he can want is within his attainment, and most of the +arguments which he can hear are within his capacity. + +Yet so it is, that an Idler meets every hour of his life with men who +have different opinions upon every thing past, present, and future; who +deny the most notorious facts, contradict the most cogent truths, and +persist in asserting to-day what they asserted yesterday, in defiance of +evidence, and contempt of confutation. + +Two of my companions, who are grown old in idleness, are Tom Tempest and +Jack Sneaker. Both of them consider themselves as neglected by their +parties, and therefore entitled to credit; for why should they favour +ingratitude? They are both men of integrity, where no factious interest +is to be promoted; and both lovers of truth, when they are not heated +with political debate. + +Tom Tempest is a steady friend to the house of Stuart. He can recount +the prodigies that have appeared in the sky, and the calamities that +have afflicted the nation every year from the Revolution; and is of +opinion, that, if the exiled family had continued to reign, there would +have neither been worms in our ships nor caterpillars in our trees. He +wonders that the nation was not awakened by the hard frost to a +revocation of the true king, and is hourly afraid that the whole island +will be lost in the sea. He believes that king William burned Whitehall +that he might steal the furniture; and that Tillotson died an atheist. +Of queen Anne he speaks with more tenderness, owns that she meant well, +and can tell by whom and why she was poisoned. In the succeeding reigns +all has been corruption, malice, and design. He believes that nothing +ill has ever happened for these forty years by chance or errour; he +holds that the battle of Dettingen was won by mistake, and that of +Fontenoy lost by contract; that the Victory was sunk by a private order; +that Cornhill was fired by emissaries from the council; and the arch of +Westminster-bridge was so contrived as to sink on purpose that the +nation might be put to charge. He considers the new road to Islington as +an encroachment on liberty, and often asserts that _broad wheels_ will +be the ruin of England. + +Tom is generally vehement and noisy, but nevertheless has some secrets +which he always communicates in a whisper. Many and many a time has Tom +told me, in a corner, that our miseries were almost at an end, and that +we should see, in a month, another monarch on the throne; the time +elapses without a revolution; Tom meets me again with new intelligence, +the whole scheme is now settled, and we shall see great events in +another month. + +Jack Sneaker is a hearty adherent to the present establishment; he has +known those who saw the bed into which the Pretender was conveyed in a +warming-pan. He often rejoices that the nation was not enslaved by the +Irish. He believes that king William never lost a battle, and that if he +had lived one year longer he would have conquered France. He holds that +Charles the First was a Papist. He allows there were some good men in +the reign of queen Anne, but the peace of Utrecht brought a blast upon +the nation, and has been the cause of all the evil that we have suffered +to the present hour. He believes that the scheme of the South Sea was +well intended, but that it miscarried by the influence of France. He +considers a standing army as the bulwark of liberty, thinks us secured +from corruption by septennial parliaments, relates how we are enriched +and strengthened by the electoral dominions, and declares that the +publick debt is a blessing to the nation. + +Yet, amidst all this prosperity, poor Jack is hourly disturbed by the +dread of Popery. He wonders that some stricter laws are not made against +Papists, and is sometimes afraid that they are busy with French gold +among the bishops and judges. + +He cannot believe that the Nonjurors are so quiet for nothing, they must +certainly be forming some plot for the establishment of Popery; he does +not think the present oaths sufficiently binding, and wishes that some +better security could be found for the succession of Hanover. He is +zealous for the naturalization of foreign Protestants, and rejoiced at +the admission of the Jews to the English privileges, because he thought +a Jew would never be a Papist. + + + + +No. 11. SATURDAY, JUNE 24, 1758. + + --_Nec te quaesiveris extra_. PERS. + +It is commonly observed, that when two Englishmen meet, their first talk +is of the weather; they are in haste to tell each other, what each must +already know, that it is hot or cold, bright or cloudy, windy or calm. + +There are, among the numerous lovers of subtilties and paradoxes, some +who derive the civil institutions of every country from its climate, who +impute freedom and slavery to the temperature of the air, can fix the +meridian of vice and virtue, and tell at what degree of latitude we are +to expect courage or timidity, knowledge or ignorance. + +From these dreams of idle speculation, a slight survey of life, and a +little knowledge of history, are sufficient to awaken any inquirer, +whose ambition of distinction has not overpowered his love of truth. +Forms of government are seldom the result of much deliberation; they are +framed by chance in popular assemblies, or in conquered countries, by +despotick authority. Laws are often occasional, often capricious, made +always by a few, and sometimes by a single voice. Nations have changed +their characters; slavery is now no where more patiently endured, than +in countries once inhabited by the zealots of liberty. + +But national customs can arise only from general agreement; they are not +imposed, but chosen, and are continued only by the continuance of their +cause. An Englishman's notice of the weather is the natural consequence +of changeable skies and uncertain seasons. In many parts of the world, +wet weather and dry are regularly expected at certain periods; but in +our island every man goes to sleep, unable to guess whether he shall +behold in the morning a bright or cloudy atmosphere, whether his rest +shall be lulled by a shower, or broken by a tempest. We therefore +rejoice mutually at good weather, as at an escape from something that we +feared; and mutually complain of bad, as of the loss of something that +we hoped. + +Such is the reason of our practice; and who shall treat it with +contempt? Surely not the attendant on a court, whose business is to +watch the looks of a being weak and foolish as himself, and whose vanity +is to recount the names of men, who might drop into nothing, and leave +no vacuity; nor the proprietor of funds, who stops his acquaintance in +the street to tell him of the loss of half-a-crown; nor the inquirer +after news, who fills his head with foreign events, and talks of +skirmishes and sieges, of which no consequence will ever reach his +hearers or himself. The weather is a nobler and more interesting +subject; it is the present state of the skies, and of the earth, on +which plenty and famine are suspended, on which millions depend for the +necessaries of life. + +The weather is frequently mentioned for another reason, less honourable +to my dear countrymen. Our dispositions too frequently change with the +colour of the sky; and when we find ourselves cheerful and good-natured, +we naturally pay our acknowledgments to the powers of sunshine; or, if +we sink into dulness and peevishness, look round the horizon for an +excuse, and charge our discontent upon an easterly wind or a cloudy day. + +Surely nothing is more reproachful to a being endowed with reason, than +to resign its powers to the influence of the air, and live in dependence +on the weather and the wind, for the only blessings which nature has put +into our power, tranquillity and benevolence. To look up to the sky for +the nutriment of our bodies, is the condition of nature; to call upon +the sun for peace and gaiety, or deprecate the clouds lest sorrow should +overwhelm us, is the cowardice of idleness, and the idolatry of folly. + +Yet even in this age of inquiry and knowledge, when superstition is +driven away, and omens and prodigies have lost their terrours, we find +this folly countenanced by frequent examples. Those that laugh at the +portentous glare of a comet, and hear a crow with equal tranquillity +from the right or left, will yet talk of times and situations proper for +intellectual performances, will imagine the fancy exalted by vernal +breezes, and the reason invigorated by a bright calm. + +If men who have given up themselves to fanciful credulity would confine +their conceits in their own minds, they might regulate their lives by +the barometer, with inconvenience only to themselves; but to fill the +world with accounts of intellects subject to ebb and flow, of one genius +that awakened in the spring, and another that ripened in the autumn, of +one mind expanded in the summer, and of another concentrated in the +winter, is no less dangerous than to tell children of bugbears and +goblins. Fear will find every house haunted; and idleness will wait for +ever for the moment of illumination. + +This distinction of seasons is produced only by imagination operating on +luxury. To temperance every day is bright, and every hour is propitious +to diligence. He that shall resolutely excite his faculties, or exert +his virtues, will soon make himself superior to the seasons, and may set +at defiance the morning mist, and the evening damp, the blasts of the +east, and the clouds of the south. + +It was the boast of the Stoick philosophy, to make man unshaken by +calamity, and unelated by success, incorruptible by pleasure, and +invulnerable by pain; these are heights of wisdom which none ever +attained, and to which few can aspire; but there are lower degrees of +constancy necessary to common virtue; and every man, however he may +distrust himself in the extremes of good or evil, might at least +struggle against the tyranny of the climate, and refuse to enslave his +virtue or his reason to the most variable of all variations, the changes +of the weather. + + + + +No. 12. SATURDAY, JULY 1, 1758. + +That every man is important in his own eyes, is a position of which we +all either voluntarily or unwarily at least once an hour confess the +truth; and it will unavoidably follow, that every man believes himself +important to the publick. The right which this importance gives us to +general notice and visible distinction, is one of those disputable +privileges which we have not always courage to assert; and which we +therefore suffer to lie dormant till some elation of mind, or +vicissitude of fortune, incites us to declare our pretensions and +enforce our demands. And hopeless as the claim of vulgar characters may +seem to the supercilious and severe, there are few who do not at one +time or other endeavour to step forward beyond their rank; who do not +make some struggles for fame, and show that they think all other +conveniencies and delights imperfectly enjoyed without a name. + +To get a name, can happen but to few. A name, even in the most +commercial nation, is one of the few things which cannot be bought. It +is the free gift of mankind, which must be deserved before it will be +granted, and is at last unwillingly bestowed. But this unwillingness +only increases desire in him who believes his merit sufficient to +overcome it. + +There is a particular period of life, in which this fondness for a name +seems principally to predominate in both sexes. Scarce any couple comes +together but the nuptials are declared in the newspapers with encomiums +on each party. Many an eye, ranging over the page with eager curiosity +in quest of statesmen and heroes, is stopped by a marriage celebrated +between Mr. Buckram, an eminent salesman in Threadneedle-street, and +Miss Dolly Juniper, the only daughter of an eminent distiller, of the +parish of St. Giles's in the Fields, a young lady adorned with every +accomplishment that can give happiness to the married state. Or we are +told, amidst our impatience for the event of a battle, that on a certain +day Mr. Winker, a tide-waiter at Yarmouth, was married to Mrs. Cackle, a +widow lady of great accomplishments, and that as soon as the ceremony +was performed they set out in a post-chaise for Yarmouth. + +Many are the inquiries which such intelligence must undoubtedly raise, +but nothing in this world is lasting. When the reader has contemplated +with envy, or with gladness, the felicity of Mr. Buckram and Mr. Winker, +and ransacked his memory for the names of Juniper and Cackle, his +attention is diverted to other thoughts, by finding that Mirza will not +cover this season; or that a spaniel has been lost or stolen, that +answers to the name of Ranger. + +Whence it arises that on the day of marriage all agree to call thus +openly for honours, I am not able to discover. Some, perhaps, think it +kind, by a publick declaration, to put an end to the hopes of rivalry +and the fears of jealousy, to let parents know that they may set their +daughters at liberty whom they have locked up for fear of the +bridegroom, or to dismiss to their counters and their offices the +amorous youths that had been used to hover round the dwelling of the +bride. + +These connubial praises may have another cause. It may be the intention +of the husband and wife to dignify themselves in the eyes of each other, +and, according to their different tempers or expectations, to win +affection, or enforce respect. + +It was said of the family of Lucas, that it was _noble_, for _all the +brothers were valiant, and all the sisters were virtuous_. What would a +stranger say of the _English_ nation, in which on the day of marriage +all the men are _eminent_, and all the women _beautiful, accomplished_, +and _rich_? + +How long the wife will be persuaded of the eminence of her husband, or +the husband continue to believe that his wife has the qualities required +to make marriage happy, may reasonably be questioned. I am afraid that +much time seldom passes before each is convinced that praises are +fallacious, and particularly those praises which we confer upon +ourselves. + +I should therefore think, that this custom might be omitted without any +loss to the community; and that the sons and daughters of lanes and +alleys might go hereafter to the next church, with no witnesses of their +worth or happiness but their parents and their friends; but if they +cannot be happy on the bridal day without some gratification of their +vanity, I hope they will be willing to encourage a friend of mine who +proposes to devote his powers to their service. + +Mr. Settle, a man whose _eminence_ was once allowed by the _eminent_, +and whose _accomplishments_ were confessed by the _accomplished_, in the +latter part of a long life supported himself by an uncommon expedient. +He had a standing elegy and epithalamium, of which only the first and +last were leaves varied occasionally, and the intermediate pages were, +by general terms, left applicable alike to every character. When any +marriage became known, Settle ran to the bridegroom with his +epithalamium; and when he heard of any death, ran to the heir with his +elegy. + +Who can think himself disgraced by a trade that was practised so long by +the rival of Dryden, by the poet whose "Empress of Morocco" was played +before princes by ladies of the court? + +My friend purposes to open an office in the Fleet for matrimonial +panegyricks, and will accommodate all with praise who think their own +powers of expression inadequate to their merit. He will sell any man or +woman the virtue or qualification which is most fashionable or most +desired; but desires his customers to remember, that he sets beauty at +the highest price, and riches at the next, and, if he be well paid, +throws in virtue for nothing. + + + + +No. 13. SATURDAY, JULY 8, 1758. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Dear Mr. Idler, + +Though few men of prudence are much inclined to interpose in disputes +between man and wife, who commonly make peace at the expense of the +arbitrator; yet I will venture to lay before you a controversy, by which +the quiet of my house has been long disturbed, and which, unless you can +decide it, is likely to produce lasting evils, and embitter those hours +which nature seems to have appropriated to tenderness and repose. + +I married a wife with no great fortune, but of a family remarkable for +domestick prudence, and elegant frugality. I lived with her at ease, if +not with happiness, and seldom had any reason of complaint. The house +was always clean, the servants were active and regular, dinner was on +the table every day at the same minute, and the ladies of the +neighbourhood were frightened when I invited their husbands, lest their +own economy should be less esteemed. + +During this gentle lapse of life, my dear brought me three daughters. I +wished for a son, to continue the family; but my wife often tells me, +that boys are dirty things, and are always troublesome in a house; and +declares that she has hated the sight of them ever since she saw lady +Fondle's eldest son ride over a carpet with his hobby-horse all mire. + +I did not much attend to her opinion, but knew that girls could not be +made boys; and therefore composed myself to bear what I could not +remedy, and resolved to bestow that care on my daughters, to which only +the sons are commonly thought entitled. + +But my wife's notions of education differ widely from mine. She is an +irreconcilable enemy to idleness, and considers every state of life as +idleness, in which the hands are not employed, or some art acquired, by +which she thinks money may be got or saved. + +In pursuance of this principle, she calls up her daughters at a certain +hour, and appoints them a task of needlework to be performed before +breakfast. They are confined in a garret, which has its window in the +roof, both because work is best done at a sky-light, and because +children are apt to lose time by looking about them. + +They bring down their work to breakfast, and as they deserve are +commended or reproved; they are then sent up with a new task till +dinner; if no company is expected, their mother sits with them the whole +afternoon, to direct their operations, and to draw patterns, and is +sometimes denied to her nearest relations when she is engaged in +teaching them a new stitch. + +By this continual exercise of their diligence, she has obtained a very +considerable number of laborious performances. We have twice as many +fire-skreens as chimneys, and three flourished quilts for every bed. +Half the rooms are adorned with a kind of _sutile pictures_, which +imitate tapestry. But all their work is not set out to show; she has +boxes filled with knit garters and braided shoes. She has twenty covers +for side-saddles embroidered with silver flowers, and has curtains +wrought with gold in various figures, which she resolves some time or +other to hang up. All these she displays to her company whenever she is +elate with merit, and eager for praise; and amidst the praises which her +friends and herself bestow upon her merit, she never fails to turn to +me, and ask what all these would cost, if I had been to buy them. + +I sometimes venture to tell her, that many of the ornaments are +superfluous; that what is done with so much labour might have been +supplied by a very easy purchase; that the work is not always worth the +materials; and that I know not why the children should be persecuted +with useless tasks, or obliged to make shoes that are never worn. She +answers with a look of contempt, that men never care how money goes, and +proceeds to tell of a dozen new chairs for which she is contriving +covers, and of a couch which she intends to stand as a monument of +needle-work. + +In the mean time, the girls grow up in total ignorance of every thing +past, present, and future. Molly asked me the other day, whether Ireland +was in France, and was ordered by her mother to mend her hem. Kitty +knows not, at sixteen, the difference between a Protestant and a Papist, +because she has been employed three years in filling the side of a +closet with a hanging that is to represent Cranmer in the flames. And +Dolly, my eldest girl, is now unable to read a chapter in the Bible, +having spent all the time, which other children pass at school, in +working the interview between Solomon and the queen of Sheba. + +About a month ago, Tent and Turkey-stitch seemed at a stand; my wife +knew not what new work to introduce; I ventured to propose that the +girls should now learn to read and write, and mentioned the necessity of +a little arithmetick; but, unhappily, my wife has discovered that linen +wears out, and has bought the girls three little wheels, that they may +spin huckaback for the servants' table. I remonstrated, that with larger +wheels they might despatch in an hour what must now cost them a day; but +she told me, with irresistible authority, that any business is better +than idleness; that when these wheels are set upon a table, with mats +under them, they will turn without noise, and keep the girls upright; +that great wheels are not fit for gentlewomen; and that with these, +small as they are, she does not doubt but that the three girls, if they +are kept close, will spin every year as much cloth as would cost five +pounds if one were to buy it. + + + +No 14. SATURDAY, JULY 15, 1758. + +When Diogenes received a visit in his tub from Alexander the Great, and +was asked, according to the ancient forms of royal courtesy, what +petition he had to offer; "I have nothing," said he, "to ask, but that +you would remove to the other side, that you may not, by intercepting +the sunshine, take from me what you cannot give me." + +Such was the demand of Diogenes from the greatest monarch of the earth, +which those, who have less power than Alexander, may, with yet more +propriety, apply to themselves. He that does much good, may be allowed +to do sometimes a little harm. But if the opportunities of beneficence +be denied by fortune, innocence should at least be vigilantly preserved. + +It is well known, that time once passed never returns; and that the +moment which is lost, is lost for ever. Time therefore ought, above all +other kinds of property, to be free from invasion; and yet there is no +man who does not claim the power of wasting that time which is the right +of others. + +This usurpation is so general, that a very small part of the year is +spent by choice; scarcely any thing is done when it is intended, or +obtained when it is desired. Life is continually ravaged by invaders; +one steals away an hour, and another a day; one conceals the robbery by +hurrying us into business, another by lulling us with amusement; the +depredation is continued through a thousand vicissitudes of tumult and +tranquillity, till, having lost all, we can lose no more. + +This waste of the lives of men has been very frequently charged upon the +Great, whose followers linger from year to year in expectations, and die +at last with petitions in their hands. Those who raise envy will easily +incur censure. I know not whether statesmen and patrons do not suffer +more reproaches than they deserve, and may not rather themselves +complain, that they are given up a prey to pretensions without merit, +and to importunity without shame. + +The truth is, that the inconveniencies of attendance are more lamented +than felt. To the greater number solicitation is its own reward. To be +seen in good company, to talk of familiarities with men of power, to be +able to tell the freshest news, to gratify an inferior circle with +predictions of increase or decline of favour, and to be regarded as a +candidate for high offices, are compensations more than equivalent to +the delay of favours, which, perhaps, he that begs them has hardly +confidence to expect. + +A man conspicuous in a high station, who multiplies hopes that he may +multiply dependants, may be considered as a beast of prey, justly +dreaded, but easily avoided; his den is known, and they who would not be +devoured, need not approach it. The great danger of the waste of time is +from caterpillars and moths, who are not resisted, because they are not +feared, and who work on with unheeded mischiefs, and invisible +encroachments. + +He, whose rank or merit procures him the notice of mankind, must give up +himself, in a great measure, to the convenience or humour of those who +surround him. Every man, who is sick of himself, will fly to him for +relief; he that wants to speak will require him to hear; and he that +wants to hear will expect him to speak. Hour passes after hour, the noon +succeeds to morning, and the evening to noon, while a thousand objects +are forced upon his attention, which he rejects as fast as they are +offered, but which the custom of the world requires to be received with +appearance of regard. + +If we will have the kindness of others, we must endure their follies. He +who cannot persuade himself to withdraw from society, must be content to +pay a tribute of his time to a multitude of tyrants; to the loiterer, +who makes appointments which he never keeps; to the consulter, who asks +advice which he never takes; to the boaster, who blusters only to be +praised; to the complainer, who whines only to be pitied; to the +projector, whose happiness is to entertain his friends with expectations +which all but himself know to be vain; to the economist, who tells of +bargains and settlements; to the politician, who predicts the fate of +battles and breach of alliances; to the usurer, who compares the +different funds; and to the talker, who talks only because he loves to +be talking. + +To put every man in possession of his own time, and rescue the day from +this succession of usurpers, is beyond my power, and beyond my hope. +Yet, perhaps, some stop might be put to this unmerciful persecution, if +all would seriously reflect, that whoever pays a visit that is not +desired, or talks longer than the hearer is willing to attend, is guilty +of an injury which he cannot repair, and takes away that which he cannot +give. + + + + +No. 15. SATURDAY, JULY 22, 1758. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Sir, + +I have the misfortune to be a man of business; that, you will say, is a +most grievous one; but what makes it the more so to me, is, that my wife +has nothing to do: at least she had too good an education, and the +prospect of too good a fortune in reversion when I married her, to think +of employing herself either in my shop-affairs, or the management of my +family. + +Her time, you know, as well as my own, must be filled up some way or +other. For my part, I have enough to mind in weighing my goods out, and +waiting on my customers: but my wife, though she could be of as much use +as a shopman to me, if she would put her hand to it, is now only in my +way. She walks all the morning sauntering about the shop with her arms +through her pocket-holes or stands gaping at the door-sill, and looking +at every person that passes by. She is continually asking me a thousand +frivolous questions about every customer that comes in and goes out; and +all the while that I am entering any thing in my day-book, she is +lolling over the counter, and staring at it, as if I was only scribbling +or drawing figures for her amusement. Sometimes, indeed, she will take a +needle; but as she always works at the door, or in the middle of the +shop, she has so many interruptions, that she is longer hemming a towel, +or darning a stocking, than I am in breaking forty loaves of sugar, and +making it up into pounds. + +In the afternoons I am sure likewise to have her company, except she is +called upon by some of her acquaintance: and then, as we let out all the +upper part of our house, and have only a little room backwards for +ourselves, they either keep such a chattering, or else are calling out +every moment to me, that I cannot mind my business for them. + +My wife, I am sure, might do all the little matters our family requires; +and I could wish that she would employ herself in them; but, instead of +that, we have a girl to do the work, and look after a little boy about +two years old, which, I may fairly say, is the mother's own child. The +brat must be humoured in every thing: he is therefore suffered +constantly to play in the shop, pull all the goods about, and clamber up +the shelves to get at the plums and sugar. I dare not correct him; +because, if I did, I should have wife and maid both upon me at once. As +to the latter, she is as lazy and sluttish as her mistress; and because +she complains she has too much work, we can scarcely get her to do any +thing at all: nay, what is worse than that, I am afraid she is hardly +honest; and as she is intrusted to buy-in all our provisions, the jade, +I am sure, makes a market-penny out of every article. + +But to return to my deary.--The evenings are the only time, when it is +fine weather, that I am left to myself; for then she generally takes the +child out to give it milk in the Park. When she comes home again, she is +so fatigued with walking, that she cannot stir from her chair: and it is +an hour, after shop is shut, before I can get a bit of supper, while the +maid is taken up in undressing and putting the child to bed. + +But you will pity me much more, when I tell you the manner in which we +generally pass our Sundays. In the morning she is commonly too ill to +dress herself to go to church; she therefore never gets up till noon; +and, what is still more vexatious, keeps me in bed with her, when I +ought to be busily engaged in better employment. It is well if she can +get her things on by dinner-time; and, when that is over, I am sure to +be dragged out by her either to Georgia, or Hornsey Wood, or the White +Conduit House. Yet even these near excursions are so very fatiguing to +her, that, besides what it costs me in tea and hot rolls, and sillabubs, +and cakes for the boy, I am frequently forced to take a hackney-coach, +or drive them out in a one-horse chair. At other times, as my wife is +rather of the fattest, and a very poor walker, besides bearing her whole +weight upon my arm, I am obliged to carry the child myself. + +Thus, Sir, does she constantly drawl out her time, without either profit +or satisfaction; and, while I see my neighbours' wives helping in the +shop, and almost earning as much as their husbands, I have the +mortification to find that mine is nothing but a dead weight upon me. In +short, I do not know any greater misfortune can happen to a plain +hard-working tradesman, as I am, than to be joined to such a woman, who +is rather a clog than a helpmate to him. + +I am, Sir, +Your humble servant, + +ZACHARY TREACLE.[1] + +[1]An unknown correspondent. + + + + +No. 16. SATURDAY, JULY 29, 1758. + +I paid a visit yesterday to my old friend Ned Drugget, at his +country-lodgings. Ned began trade with a very small fortune; he took a +small house in an obscure street, and for some years dealt only in +remnants. Knowing that _light gains make a heavy purse_, he was content +with moderate profit: having observed or heard the effects of civility, +he bowed down to the counter-edge at the entrance and departure of every +customer, listened without impatience to the objections of the ignorant, +and refused without resentment the offers of the penurious. His only +recreation was to stand at his own door and look into the street. His +dinner was sent him from a neighbouring alehouse, and he opened and shut +the shop at a certain hour with his own hands. + +His reputation soon extended from one end of the street to the other; +and Mr. Drugget's exemplary conduct was recommended by every master to +his apprentice, and by every father to his son. Ned was not only +considered as a thriving trader, but as a man of elegance and +politeness, for he was remarkably neat in his dress, and would wear his +coat threadbare without spotting it; his hat was always brushed, his +shoes glossy, his wig nicely curled, and his stockings without a +wrinkle. With such qualifications it was not very difficult for him to +gain the heart of Miss Comfit, the only daughter of Mr. Comfit the +confectioner. + +Ned is one of those whose happiness marriage has increased. His wife had +the same disposition with himself; and his method of life was very +little changed, except that he dismissed the lodgers from the first +floor, and took the whole house into his own hands. + +He had already, by his parsimony, accumulated a considerable sum, to +which the fortune of his wife was now added. From this time he began to +grasp at greater acquisitions, and was always ready, with money in his +hand, to pick up the refuse of a sale, or to buy the stock of a trader +who retired from business. He soon added his parlour to his shop, and +was obliged a few months afterwards to hire a warehouse. + +He had now a shop splendidly and copiously furnished with every thing +that time had injured, or fashion had degraded, with fragments of +tissues, odd yards of brocade, vast bales of faded silk, and innumerable +boxes of antiquated ribbons. His shop was soon celebrated through all +quarters of the town, and frequented by every form of ostentatious +poverty. Every maid, whose misfortune it was to be taller than her lady, +matched her gown at Mr. Drugget's; and many a maiden, who had passed a +winter with her aunt in London, dazzled the rusticks, at her return, +with cheap finery which Drugget had supplied. His shop was often visited +in a morning by ladies who left their coaches in the next street, and +crept through the alley in linen gowns. Drugget knows the rank of his +customers by their bashfulness; and, when he finds them unwilling to be +seen, invites them up stairs, or retires with them to the back window. + +I rejoiced at the increasing prosperity of my friend, and imagined that, +as he grew rich, he was growing happy. His mind has partaken the +enlargement of his fortune. When I stepped in for the first five years, +I was welcomed only with a shake of the hand; in the next period of his +life, he beckoned across the way for a pot of beer; but for six years +past, he invites me to dinner; and, if he bespeaks me the day before, +never fails to regale me with a fillet of veal. + +His riches neither made him uncivil nor negligent; he rose at the same +hour, attended with the same assiduity, and bowed with the same +gentleness. But for some years he has been much inclined to talk of the +fatigues of business, and the confinement of a shop, and to wish that he +had been so happy as to have renewed his uncle's lease of a farm, that +he might have lived without noise and hurry, in a pure air, in the +artless society of honest villagers, and the contemplation of the works +of nature. + +I soon discovered the cause of my friend's philosophy. He thought +himself grown rich enough to have a lodging in the country, like the +mercers on Ludgate-hill, and was resolved to enjoy himself in the +decline of life. This was a revolution not to be made suddenly. He +talked three years of the pleasures of the country, but passed every +night over his own shop. But at last he resolved to be happy, and hired +a lodging in the country, that he may steal some hours in the week from +business; for, says he, _when a man advances in life, he loves to +entertain himself sometimes with his own thoughts._ + +I was invited to this seat of quiet and contemplation, among those whom +Mr. Drugget considers as his most reputable friends, and desires to make +the first witnesses of his elevation to the highest dignities of a +shopkeeper. I found him at Islington, in a room which overlooked the +high road, amusing himself with looking through the window, which the +clouds of dust would not suffer him to open. He embraced me, told me I +was welcome into the country, and asked me if I did not feel myself +refreshed. He then desired that dinner might be hastened, for fresh air +always sharpened his appetite, and ordered me a toast and a glass of +wine after my walk. He told me much of the pleasures he found in +retirement, and wondered what had kept him so long out of the country. +After dinner company came in, and Mr. Drugget again repeated the praises +of the country, recommended the pleasures of meditation, and told them +that he had been all the morning at the window, counting the carriages +as they passed before him. + + + + +No. 17. SATURDAY, AUGUST 5, 1758. + + _Surge tandem Carnifex_[1]. MAECENAS AD AUGUSTUM. + +The rainy weather, which has continued the last month, is said to have +given great disturbance to the inspectors of barometers. The oraculous +glasses have deceived their votaries; shower has succeeded shower, +though they predicted sunshine and dry skies; and, by fatal confidence +in these fallacious promises, many coats have lost their gloss, and many +curls been moistened to flaccidity. + +This is one of the distresses to which mortals subject themselves by the +pride of speculation. I had no part in this learned disappointment, who +am content to credit my senses, and to believe that rain will fall when +the air blackens, and that the weather will be dry when the sun is +bright. My caution, indeed, does not always preserve me from a shower. +To be wet may happen to the genuine Idler; but to be wet in opposition +to theory, can befall only the Idler that pretends to be busy. Of those +that spin out life in trifles and die without a memorial, many flatter +themselves with high opinions of their own importance, and imagine that +they are every day adding some improvement to human life. To be idle and +to be poor have always been reproaches, and therefore every man +endeavours, with his utmost care, to hide his poverty from others, and +his idleness from himself. + +Among those whom I never could persuade to rank themselves with Idlers, +and who speak with indignation of my morning sleeps and nocturnal +rambles; one passes the day in catching spiders, that he may count their +eyes with a microscope; another erects his head, and exhibits the dust +of a marigold separated from the flower with a dexterity worthy of +Leuwenhoeck himself. Some turn the wheel of electricity; some suspend +rings to a load-stone, and find that what they did yesterday they can do +again to-day. Some register the changes of the wind, and die fully +convinced that the wind is changeable. + +There are men yet more profound, who have heard that two colourless +liquors may produce a colour by union, and that two cold bodies will +grow hot if they are mingled; they mingle them, and produce the effect +expected, say it is strange, and mingle them again. + +The Idlers that sport only with inanimate nature may claim some +indulgence; if they are useless, they are still innocent: but there are +others, whom I know not how to mention without more emotion than my love +of quiet willingly admits. Among the inferior professors of medical +knowledge, is a race of wretches, whose lives are only varied by +varieties of cruelty; whose favourite amusement is to nail dogs to +tables and open them alive; to try how long life may be continued in +various degrees of mutilation, or with the excision or laceration of the +vital parts; to examine whether burning irons are felt more acutely by +the bone or tendon; and whether the more lasting agonies are produced by +poison forced into the mouth, or injected into the veins. + +It is not without reluctance that I offend the sensibility of the tender +mind with images like these. If such cruelties were not practised, it +were to be desired that they should not be conceived; but, since they +are published every day with ostentation, let me be allowed once to +mention them, since I mention them with abhorrence. + +Mead has invidiously remarked of Woodward, that he gathered shells and +stones, and would pass for a philosopher. With pretensions much less +reasonable, the anatomical novice tears out the living bowels of an +animal, and styles himself physician, prepares himself by familiar +cruelty for that profession which he is to exercise upon the tender and +the helpless, upon feeble bodies and broken minds, and by which he has +opportunities to extend his arts of torture, and continue those +experiments upon infancy and age, which he has hitherto tried upon cats +and dogs. + +What is alleged in defence of these hateful practices, every one knows; +but the truth is, that by knives, fire, and poison, knowledge is not +always sought, and is very seldom attained. The experiments that have +been tried, are tried again; he that burned an animal with irons +yesterday, will be willing to amuse himself with burning another +to-morrow. I know not, that by living dissections any discovery has been +made by which a single malady is more easily cured. And if the knowledge +of physiology has been somewhat increased, he surely buys knowledge +dear, who learns the use of the lacteals at the expense of his humanity. +It is time that universal resentment should arise against these horrid +operations, which tend to harden the heart, extinguish those sensations +which give man confidence in man, and make the physician more dreadful +than the gout or stone. + +[1] Dr. Johnson gave this, among other mottos, to Mrs. Piozzi. They will + be inserted in this Edition in their proper places, and indicated by + an asterisk. See Mrs. Piozzi's Anecdotes, and Chalmers' British + Essayists, vol. 33. + + + + +No. 18. SATURDAY, AUGUST 12, 1758. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Sir, + +It commonly happens to him who endeavours to obtain distinction by +ridicule or censure, that he teaches others to practise his own arts +against himself; and that, after a short enjoyment of the applause paid +to his sagacity, or of the mirth excited by his wit, he is doomed to +suffer the same severities of scrutiny, to hear inquiry detecting his +faults, and exaggeration sporting with his failings. + +The natural discontent of inferiority will seldom fail to operate in +some degree of malice against him who professes to superintend the +conduct of others, especially if he seats himself uncalled in the chair +of judicature, and exercises authority by his own commission. + +You cannot, therefore, wonder that your observations on human folly, if +they produce laughter at one time, awaken criticism at another; and that +among the numbers whom you have taught to scoff at the retirement of +Drugget, there is one who offers his apology. + +The mistake of your old friend is by no means peculiar. The publick +pleasures of far the greater part of mankind are counterfeit. Very few +carry their philosophy to places of diversion, or are very careful to +analyze their enjoyments. The general condition of life is so full of +misery, that we are glad to catch delight without inquiring whence it +comes, or by what power it is bestowed. + +The mind is seldom quickened to very vigorous operations but by pain, or +the dread of pain. We do not disturb ourselves with the detection of +fallacies which do us no harm, nor willingly decline a pleasing effect +to investigate its cause. He that is happy, by whatever means, desires +nothing but the continuance of happiness, and is no more solicitous to +distribute his sensations into their proper species, than the common +gazer on the beauties of the spring to separate light into its original +rays. + +Pleasure is therefore seldom such as it appears to others, nor often +such as we represent it to ourselves. Of the ladies that sparkle at a +musical performance, a very small number has any quick sensibility of +harmonious sounds. But every one that goes has her pleasure. She has the +pleasure of wearing fine clothes, and of showing them, of outshining +those whom she suspects to envy her; she has the pleasure of appearing +among other ladies in a place whither the race of meaner mortals seldom +intrudes, and of reflecting that, in the conversations of the next +morning, her name will be mentioned among those that sat in the first +row; she has the pleasure of returning courtesies, or refusing to return +them, of receiving compliments with civility, or rejecting them with +disdain. She has the pleasure of meeting some of her acquaintance, of +guessing why the rest are absent, and of telling them that she saw the +opera, on pretence of inquiring why they would miss it. She has the +pleasure of being supposed to be pleased with a refined amusement, and +of hoping to be numbered among the votaresses of harmony. She has the +pleasure of escaping for two hours the superiority of a sister, or the +control of a husband; and from all these pleasures she concludes, that +heavenly musick is the balm of life. + +All assemblies of gaiety are brought together by motives of the same +kind. The theatre is not filled with those that know or regard the skill +of the actor, nor the ball-room by those who dance, or attend to the +dancers. To all places of general resort, where the standard of pleasure +is erected, we run with equal eagerness, or appearance of eagerness, for +very different reasons. One goes that he may say he has been there, +another because he never misses. This man goes to try what he can find, +and that to discover what others find. Whatever diversion is costly will +be frequented by those who desire to be thought rich; and whatever has, +by any accident, become fashionable, easily continues its reputation, +because every one is ashamed of not partaking it. + +To every place of entertainment we go with expectation and desire of +being pleased; we meet others who are brought by the same motives; no +one will be the first to own the disappointment; one face reflects the +smile of another, till each believes the rest delighted, and endeavours +to catch and transmit the circulating rapture. In time all are deceived +by the cheat to which all contribute. The fiction of happiness is +propagated by every tongue, and confirmed by every look, till at last +all profess the joy which they do not feel, consent to yield to the +general delusion; and when the voluntary dream is at an end, lament that +bliss is of so short a duration. + +If Drugget pretended to pleasures of which he had no perception, or +boasted of one amusement where he was indulging another, what did he +which is not done by all those who read his story? of whom some pretend +delight in conversation, only because they dare not be alone; some +praise the quiet of solitude, because they are envious of sense, and +impatient of folly; and some gratify their pride, by writing characters +which expose the vanity of life. + +I am, Sir, + +Your humble servant. + + + + +No. 19. SATURDAY, AUGUST 19, 1758. + +Some of those ancient sages that have exercised their abilities in the +inquiry after the supreme good, have been of opinion, that the highest +degree of earthly happiness is quiet; a calm repose both of mind and +body, undisturbed by the sight of folly or the noise of business, the +tumults of publick commotion, or the agitations of private interest: a +state in which the mind has no other employment, but to observe and +regulate her own motions, to trace thought from thought, combine one +image with another, raise systems of science, and form theories of +virtue. + +To the scheme of these solitary speculatists, it has been justly +objected, that if they are happy, they are happy only by being useless. +That mankind is one vast republick, where every individual receives many +benefits from the labours of others, which, by labouring in his turn for +others, he is obliged to repay; and that where the united efforts of all +are not able to exempt all from misery, none have a right to withdraw +from their task of vigilance, or to be indulged in idle wisdom or +solitary pleasures. + +It is common for controvertists, in the heat of disputation, to add one +position to another till they reach the extremities of knowledge, where +truth and falsehood lose their distinction. Their admirers follow them +to the brink of absurdity, and then start back from each side towards +the middle point. So it has happened in this great disquisition. Many +perceive alike the force of the contrary arguments, find quiet shameful, +and business dangerous, and therefore pass their lives between them, in +bustle without business, and negligence without quiet. + +Among the principal names of this moderate set is that great philosopher +Jack Whirler, whose business keeps him in perpetual motion, and whose +motion always eludes his business; who is always to do what he never +does, who cannot stand still because he is wanted in another place, and +who is wanted in many places because he stays in none. + +Jack has more business than he can conveniently transact in one house; +he has therefore one habitation near Bow-church, and another about a +mile distant. By this ingenious distribution of himself between two +houses, Jack has contrived to be found at neither. Jack's trade is +extensive, and he has many dealers; his conversation is sprightly, and +he has many companions; his disposition is kind, and he has many +friends. Jack neither forbears pleasure for business, nor omits business +for pleasure, but is equally invisible to his friends and his customers; +to him that comes with an invitation to a club, and to him that waits to +settle an account. + +When you call at his house, his clerk tells you that Mr. Whirler has +just stept out, but will be at home exactly at two; you wait at a +coffee-house till two, and then find that he has been at home, and is +gone out again, but left word that he should be at the Half-moon tavern +at seven, where he hopes to meet you. At seven you go to the tavern. At +eight in comes Mr. Whirler to tell you that he is glad to see you, and +only begs leave to run for a few minutes to a gentleman that lives near +the Exchange, from whom he will return before supper can be ready. Away +he runs to the Exchange, to tell those who are waiting for him that he +must beg them to defer the business till to-morrow, because his time is +come at the Half-moon. + +Jack's cheerfulness and civility rank him among those whose presence +never gives pain, and whom all receive with fondness and caresses. He +calls often on his friends, to tell them that he will come again +to-morrow; on the morrow he comes again, to tell them how an unexpected +summons hurries him away.--When he enters a house, his first declaration +is, that he cannot sit down; and so short are his visits, that he seldom +appears to have come for any other reason, but to say, He must go. + +The dogs of Egypt, when thirst brings them to the Nile, are said to run +as they drink for fear of the crocodiles. Jack Whirler always dines at +full speed. He enters, finds the family at table, sits familiarly down, +and fills his plate; but while the first morsel is in his mouth, hears +the clock strike, and rises; then goes to another house, sits down +again, recollects another engagement, has only time to taste the soup, +makes a short excuse to the company, and continues through another +street his desultory dinner. + +But, overwhelmed as he is with business, his chief desire is to have +still more. Every new proposal takes possession of his thoughts; he soon +balances probabilities, engages in the project, brings it almost to +completion, and then forsakes it for another, which he catches with the +same alacrity, urges with the same vehemence, and abandons with the same +coldness. + +Every man may be observed to have a certain strain of lamentation, some +peculiar theme of complaint, on which he dwells in his moments of +dejection. Jack's topick of sorrow is the want of time. Many an +excellent design languishes in empty theory for want of time. For the +omission of any civilities, want of time is his plea to others; for the +neglect of any affairs, want of time is his excuse to himself. That he +wants time, he sincerely believes; for he once pined away many months +with a lingering distemper, for want of time to attend to his health. + +Thus Jack Whirler lives in perpetual fatigue without proportionate +advantage, because he does not consider that no man can see all with his +own eyes, or do all with his own hands; that whoever is engaged in +multiplicity of business, must transact much by substitution, and leave +something to hazard; and that he who attempts to do all, will waste his +life in doing little. + + + + +No. 20. SATURDAY, AUGUST 26, 1758. + +There is no crime more infamous than the violation of truth. It is +apparent that men can be social beings no longer than they believe each +other. When speech is employed only as the vehicle of falsehood, every +man must disunite himself from others, inhabit his own cave, and seek +prey only for himself. + +Yet the law of truth, thus sacred and necessary, is broken without +punishment, without censure, in compliance with inveterate prejudice and +prevailing passions. Men are willing to credit what they wish, and +encourage rather those who gratify them with pleasure, than those that +instruct them with fidelity. + +For this reason every historian discovers his country; and it is +impossible to read the different accounts of any great event, without a +wish that truth had more power over partiality. + +Amidst the joy of my countrymen for the acquisition of Louisbourg, I +could not forbear to consider how differently this revolution of +American power is not only now mentioned by the contending nations, but +will be represented by the writers of another century. + +The English historian will imagine himself barely doing justice to +English virtue, when he relates the capture of Louisbourg in the +following manner: + +"The English had hitherto seen, with great indignation, their attempts +baffled and their force defied by an enemy, whom they considered +themselves as entitled to conquer by the right of prescription, and whom +many ages of hereditary superiority had taught them to despise. Their +fleets were more numerous, and their seamen braver, than those of +France; yet they only floated useless on the ocean, and the French +derided them from their ports. Misfortunes, as is usual, produced +discontent, the people murmured at the ministers, and the ministers +censured the commanders. + +"In the summer of this year, the English began to find their success +answerable to their cause. A fleet and an army were sent to America to +dislodge the enemies from the settlements which they had so perfidiously +made, and so insolently maintained, and to repress that power which was +growing more every day by the association of the Indians, with whom +these degenerate Europeans intermarried, and whom they secured to their +party by presents and promises. + +"In the beginning of June the ships of war and vessels containing the +land-forces appeared before Louisbourg, a place so secured by nature +that art was almost superfluous, and yet fortified by art as if nature +had left it open. The French boasted that it was impregnable, and spoke +with scorn of all attempts that could be made against it. The garrison +was numerous, the stores equal to the longest siege, and their engineers +and commanders high in reputation. The mouth of the harbour was so +narrow, that three ships within might easily defend it against all +attacks from the sea. The French had, with that caution which cowards +borrow from fear, and attribute to policy, eluded our fleets, and sent +into that port five great ships and six smaller, of which they sunk four +in the mouth of the passage, having raised batteries and posted troops +at all the places where they thought it possible to make a descent. The +English, however, had more to dread from the roughness of the sea, than +from the skill or bravery of the defendants. Some days passed before the +surges, which rise very high round that island, would suffer them to +land. At last their impatience could be restrained no longer; they got +possession of the shore with little loss by the sea, and with less by +the enemy. In a few days the artillery was landed, the batteries were +raised, and the French had no other hope than to escape from one post to +another. A shot from the batteries fired the powder in one of their +largest ships, the flame spread to the two next, and all three were +destroyed; the English admiral sent his boats against the two large +ships yet remaining, took them without resistance, and terrified the +garrison to an immediate capitulation." + +Let us now oppose to this English narrative the relation which will be +produced, about the same time, by the writer of the age of Louis XV. + +"About this time the English admitted to the conduct of affairs a man +who undertook to save from destruction that ferocious and turbulent +people, who, from the mean insolence of wealthy traders, and the lawless +confidence of successful robbers, were now sunk in despair and stupified +with horrour. He called in the ships which had been dispersed over the +ocean to guard their merchants, and sent a fleet and an army, in which +almost the whole strength of England was comprised, to secure their +possessions in America, which were endangered alike by the French arms +and the French virtue. We had taken the English fortresses by force, and +gained the Indian nations by humanity. The English, wherever they come, +are sure to have the natives for their enemies; for the only motive of +their settlements is avarice, and the only consequence of their success +is oppression. In this war they acted like other barbarians; and, with a +degree of outrageous cruelty, which the gentleness of our manners +scarcely suffers us to conceive, offered rewards by open proclamation to +those who should bring in the scalps of Indian women and children. A +trader always makes war with the cruelty of a pirate. + +"They had long looked with envy and with terrour upon the influence +which the French exerted over all the northern regions of America by the +possession of Louisbourg, a place naturally strong, and new-fortified +with some slight outworks. They hoped to surprise the garrison +unprovided; but that sluggishness, which always defeats their malice, +gave us time to send supplies, and to station ships for the defence of +the harbour. They came before Louisbourg in June, and were for some time +in doubt whether they should land. But the commanders, who had lately +seen an admiral shot for not having done what he had not power to do, +durst not leave the place unassaulted. An Englishman has no ardour for +honour, nor zeal for duty; he neither values glory nor loves his king, +but balances one danger with another, and will fight rather than be +hanged. They therefore landed, but with great loss their engineers had, +in the last war with the French, learned something of the military +science, and made their approaches with sufficient skill; but all their +efforts had been without effect, had not a ball unfortunately fallen +into the powder of one of our ships, which communicated the fire to the +rest, and, by opening the passage of the harbour, obliged the garrison +to capitulate. Thus was Louisbourg lost, and our troops marched out with +the admiration of their enemies, who durst hardly think themselves +masters of the place." + + + + +No. 21. SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 2, 1758. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Dear Mr. Idler, + +There is a species of misery, or of disease, for which our language is +commonly supposed to be without a name, but which I think is +emphatically enough denominated _listlessness_, and which is commonly +termed a want of something to do. + +Of the unhappiness of this state I do not expect all your readers to +have an adequate idea. Many are overburdened with business, and can +imagine no comfort but in rest; many have minds so placid, as willingly +to indulge a voluntary lethargy; or so narrow, as easily to be filled to +their utmost capacity. By these I shall not be understood, and therefore +cannot be pitied. Those only will sympathize with my complaint, whose +imagination is active, and resolution weak, whose desires are ardent, +and whose choice is delicate; who cannot satisfy themselves with +standing still, and yet cannot find a motive to direct their course. + +I was the second son of a gentleman, whose estate was barely sufficient +to support himself and his heir in the dignity of killing game. He +therefore made use of the interest which the alliances of his family +afforded him, to procure me a post in the army. I passed some years in +the most contemptible of all human stations, that of a soldier in time +of peace. I wandered with the regiment as the quarters were changed, +without opportunity for business, taste for knowledge, or money for +pleasure. Wherever I came, I was for some time a stranger without +curiosity, and afterwards an acquaintance without friendship. Having +nothing to hope in these places of fortuitous residence, I resigned my +conduct to chance; I had no intention to offend, I had no ambition to +delight. + +I suppose every man is shocked when he hears how frequently soldiers are +wishing for war. The wish is not always sincere; the greater part are +content with sleep and lace, and counterfeit an ardour which they do not +feel; but those who desire it most are neither prompted by malevolence +nor patriotism; they neither pant for laurels, nor delight in blood; but +long to be delivered from the tyranny of idleness, and restored to the +dignity of active beings. + +I never imagined myself to have more courage than other men, yet was +often involuntarily wishing for a war, but of a war, at that time, I had +no prospect; and being enabled, by the death of an uncle, to live +without my pay, I quitted the army, and resolved to regulate my own +motions. + +I was pleased, for a while, with the novelty of independence, and +imagined that I had now found what every man desires. My time was in my +own power, and my habitation was wherever my choice should fix it. I +amused myself for two years in passing from place to place, and +comparing one convenience with another; but being at last ashamed of +inquiry, and weary of uncertainty, I purchased a house, and established +my family. + +I now expected to begin to be happy, and was happy for a short time with +that expectation. But I soon perceived my spirits to subside, and my +imagination to grow dark. The gloom thickened every day round me. I +wondered by what malignant power my peace was blasted, till I discovered +at last that I had nothing to do. + +Time, with all its celerity, moves slowly to him whose whole employment +is to watch its flight. I am forced upon a thousand shifts to enable me +to endure the tediousness of the day. I rise when I can sleep no longer, +and take my morning-walk; I see what I have seen before, and return. I +sit down, and persuade myself that I sit down to think; find it +impossible to think without a subject, rise up to inquire after news, +and endeavour to kindle in myself an artificial impatience for +intelligence of events, which will never extend any consequence to me, +but that, a few minutes, they abstract me from myself. + +When I have heard any thing that may gratify curiosity, I am busied for +a while in running to relate it. I hasten from one place of concourse, +to another, delighted with my own importance, and proud to think that I +am doing something, though I know that another hour would spare my +labour. + +I had once a round of visits, which I paid very regularly; but I have +now tired most of my friends. When I have sat down I forget to rise, and +have more than once overheard one asking another, when I would be gone. +I perceive the company tired, I observe the mistress of the family +whispering to her servants, I find orders given to put off business till +to-morrow, I see the watches frequently inspected, and yet cannot +withdraw to the vacuity of solitude, or venture myself in my own +company. + +Thus burdensome to myself and others, I form many schemes of employment +which may make my life useful or agreeable, and exempt me from the +ignominy of living by sufferance. This new course I have long designed, +but have not yet begun. The present moment is never proper for the +change, but there is always a time in view when all obstacles will be +removed, and I shall surprise all that know me with a new distribution +of my time. Twenty years have past since I have resolved a complete +amendment, and twenty years have been lost in delays. Age is coming upon +me; and I should look back with rage and despair upon the waste of life, +but that I am now beginning in earnest to begin a reformation. + +I am, Sir, +Your humble servant, + +DICK LINGER. + + + + +No. 22. SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 16, 1758. + + _Oh nomen dulce libertatis! Oh jus eximium nostra civitatis!_ + CICERO. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Sir, + +As I was passing lately under one of the gates of this city, I was +struck with horrour by a rueful cry, which summoned me _to remember the +poor debtors_. + +The wisdom and justice of the English laws are, by Englishmen at least, +loudly celebrated: but scarcely the most zealous admirers of our +institutions can think that law wise, which, when men are capable of +work, obliges them to beg; or just, which exposes the liberty of one to +the passions of another. + +The prosperity of a people is proportionate to the number of hands and +minds usefully employed. To the community, sedition is a fever, +corruption is a gangrene, and idleness an atrophy. Whatever body, and +whatever society, wastes more than it acquires, must gradually decay; +and every being that continues to be fed, and ceases to labour, takes +away something from the publick stock. + +The confinement, therefore, of any man in the sloth and darkness of a +prison, is a loss to the nation, and no gain to the creditor. For of the +multitudes who are pining in those cells of misery, a very small part is +suspected of any fraudulent act by which they retain what belongs to +others. The rest are imprisoned by the wantonness of pride, the +malignity of revenge, or the acrimony of disappointed expectation. + +If those, who thus rigorously exercise the power which the law has put +into their hands, be asked, why they continue to imprison those whom +they know to be unable to pay them; one will answer, that his debtor +once lived better than himself; another, that his wife looked above her +neighbours, and his children went in silk clothes to the dancing-school; +and another, that he pretended to be a joker and a wit. Some will reply, +that if they were in debt, they should meet with the same treatment; +some, that they owe no more than they can pay, and need therefore give +no account of their actions. Some will confess their resolution, that +their debtors shall rot in jail; and some will discover, that they hope, +by cruelty, to wring the payment from their friends. + +The end of all civil regulations is to secure private happiness from +private malignity; to keep individuals from the power of one another; +but this end is apparently neglected, when a man, irritated with loss, +is allowed to be the judge of his own cause, and to assign the +punishment of his own pain; when the distinction between guilt and +happiness, between casualty and design, is intrusted to eyes blind with +interest, to understandings depraved by resentment. + +Since poverty is punished among us as a crime, it ought at least to be +treated with the same lenity as other crimes; the offender ought not to +languish at the will of him whom he has offended, but to be allowed some +appeal to the justice of his country. There can be no reason why any +debtor should be imprisoned, but that he may be compelled to payment; +and a term should therefore be fixed, in which the creditor should +exhibit his accusation of concealed property. If such property can be +discovered, let it be given to the creditor; if the charge is not +offered, or cannot be proved, let the prisoner be dismissed. + +Those who made the laws have apparently supposed, that every deficiency +of payment is the crime of the debtor. But the truth is, that the +creditor always shares the act, and often more than shares the guilt, of +improper trust. It seldom happens that any man imprisons another but for +debts which he suffered to be contracted in hope of advantage to +himself, and for bargains in which he proportioned his profit to his own +opinion of the hazard; and there is no reason why one should punish the +other for a contract in which both concurred. + +Many of the inhabitants of prisons may justly complain of harder +treatment. He that once owes more than he can pay, is often obliged to +bribe his creditor to patience, by increasing his debt. Worse and worse +commodities, at a higher and higher price, are forced upon him; he is +impoverished by compulsive traffick, and at last overwhelmed, in the +common receptacles of misery, by debts, which, without his own consent, +were accumulated on his head. To the relief of this distress, no other +objection can be made, but that by an easy dissolution of debts fraud +will be left without punishment, and imprudence without awe; and that +when insolvency should be no longer punishable, credit will cease. + +The motive to credit is the hope of advantage. Commerce can never be at +a stop, while one man wants what another can supply; and credit will +never be denied, while it is likely to be repaid with profit. He that +trusts one whom he designs to sue, is criminal by the act of trust: the +cessation of such insidious traffick is to be desired, and no reason can +be given why a change of the law should impair any other. + +We see nation trade with nation, where no payment can be compelled. +Mutual convenience produces mutual confidence; and the merchants +continue to satisfy the demands of each other, though they have nothing +to dread but the loss of trade. + +It is vain to continue an institution, which experience shows to be +ineffectual. We have now imprisoned one generation of debtors after +another, but we do not find that their numbers lessen. We have now +learned that rashness and imprudence will not be deterred from taking +credit; let us try whether fraud and avarice may be more easily +restrained from giving it[1]. + +I am, Sir, &c. + + +[1] This number was substituted, for some reason not ascertained, for +the keenly satirical original, which is reprinted at the end of this +volume. + +The observations of the present paper are such as would naturally +suggest themselves to an honest and benevolent mind like Johnson's; but +their political correctness may reasonably be questioned. An attempt has +been made, since his day, to provide a humane protection for the +unfortunate debtor. But has it not, at the same time, exposed the +confiding tradesman to deception and to consequent ruin, by destroying +all adequate punishment, and therefore removing every check upon vice +and prodigality? In a _Dictionnaire des Gens du Monde_, insolvency has +been, not unaptly, defined, a mode of getting rich by infallible rules! +See Idler 38, and Note. + + + + +No. 23. SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 23, 1758. + +Life has no pleasure higher or nobler than that of friendship. It is +painful to consider, that this sublime enjoyment may be impaired or +destroyed by innumerable causes, and that there is no human possession +of which the duration is less certain. + +Many have talked, in very exalted language, of the perpetuity of +friendship, of invincible constancy, and unalienable kindness; and some +examples have been seen of men who have continued faithful to their +earliest choice, and whose affection has predominated over changes of +fortune, and contrariety of opinion. + +But these instances are memorable, because they are rare. The friendship +which is to be practised or expected by common mortals, must take its +rise from mutual pleasure, and must end when the power ceases of +delighting each other. + +Many accidents therefore may happen, by which the ardour of kindness +will be abated, without criminal baseness or contemptible inconstancy on +either part. To give pleasure is not always in our power; and little +does he know himself, who believes that he can be always able to receive +it. + +Those who would gladly pass their days together may be separated by the +different course of their affairs; and friendship, like love, is +destroyed by long absence, though it may be increased by short +intermissions. What we have missed long enough to want it, we value more +when it is regained; but that which has been lost till it is forgotten, +will be found at last with little gladness, and with still less if a +substitute has supplied the place. A man deprived of the companion to +whom he used to open his bosom, and with whom he shared the hours of +leisure and merriment, feels the day at first hanging heavy on him; his +difficulties oppress, and his doubts distract him; he sees time come and +go without his wonted gratification, and all is sadness within, and +solitude about him. But this uneasiness never lasts long; necessity +produces expedients, new amusements are discovered, and new conversation +is admitted. + +No expectation is more frequently disappointed, than that which +naturally arises in the mind from the prospect of meeting an old friend +after long separation. We expect the attraction to be revived, and the +coalition to be renewed; no man considers how much alteration time has +made in himself, and very few inquire what effect it has had upon +others. The first hour convinces them that the pleasure, which they had +formerly enjoyed, is for ever at an end; different scenes have made +different impressions; the opinions of both are changed; and that +similitude of manners and sentiment is lost, which confirmed them both +in the approbation of themselves. + +Friendship is often destroyed by opposition of interest, not only by the +ponderous and visible interest which the desire of wealth and greatness +forms and maintains, but by a thousand secret and slight competitions, +scarcely known to the mind upon which they operate. There is scarcely +any man without some favourite trifle which he values above greater +attainments, some desire of petty praise which he cannot patiently +suffer to be frustrated. This minute ambition is sometimes crossed +before it is known, and sometimes defeated by wanton petulance; but such +attacks are seldom made without the loss of friendship; for whoever has +once found the vulnerable part will always be feared, and the resentment +will burn on in secret, of which shame hinders the discovery. + +This, however, is a slow malignity, which a wise man will obviate as +inconsistent with quiet, and a good man will repress as contrary to +virtue; but human happiness is sometimes violated by some more sudden +strokes. + +A dispute begun in jest upon a subject which, a moment before, was on +both parts regarded with careless indifference, is continued by the +desire of conquest, till vanity kindles into rage, and opposition +rankles into enmity. Against this hasty mischief, I know not what +security can be obtained: men will be sometimes surprised into quarrels; +and though they might both hasten to reconciliation, as soon as their +tumult had subsided, yet two minds will seldom be found together, which +can at once subdue their discontent, or immediately enjoy the sweets of +peace, without remembering the wounds of the conflict. + +Friendship has other enemies. Suspicion is always hardening the +cautious, and disgust repelling the delicate. Very slender differences +will sometimes part those whom long reciprocation of civility or +beneficence has united. Lonelove and Ranger retired into the country to +enjoy the company of each other, and returned in six weeks cold and +petulant; Ranger's pleasure was to walk in the fields, and Lonelove's to +sit in a bower; each had complied with the other in his turn, and each +was angry that compliance had been exacted. + +The most fatal disease of friendship is gradual decay, or dislike hourly +increased by causes too slender for complaint, and too numerous for +removal.--Those who are angry may be reconciled; those who have been +injured may receive a recompense: but when the desire of pleasing and +willingness to be pleased is silently diminished, the renovation of +friendship is hopeless; as, when the vital powers sink into languor, +there is no longer any use of the physician. + + + + +No. 24. SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 30, 1758. + +When man sees one of the inferior creatures perched upon a tree, or +basking in the sunshine, without any apparent endeavour or pursuit, he +often asks himself, or his companion, _On what that animal can be +supposed to be thinking_? + +Of this question, since neither bird nor beast can answer it, we must be +content to live without the resolution. We know not how much the brutes +recollect of the past, or anticipate of the future; what power they have +of comparing and preferring; or whether their faculties may not rest in +motionless indifference, till they are moved by the presence of their +proper object, or stimulated to act by corporal sensations. + +I am the less inclined to these superfluous inquiries, because I have +always been able to find sufficient matter for curiosity in my own +species. It is useless to go far in quest of that which may be found at +home; a very narrow circle of observation will supply a sufficient +number of men and women, who might be asked, with equal propriety, _On +what they can be thinking_? + +It is reasonable to believe, that thought, like every thing else, has +its causes and effects; that it must proceed from something known, done, +or suffered; and must produce some action or event. Yet how great is the +number of those in whose minds no source of thought has ever been +opened, in whose life no consequence of thought is ever discovered; who +have learned nothing upon which they can reflect; who have neither seen +nor felt any thing which could leave its traces on the memory; who +neither foresee nor desire any change in their condition, and have +therefore neither fear, hope, nor design, and yet are supposed to be +thinking beings. + +To every act a subject is required. He that thinks must think upon +something. But tell me, ye that pierce deepest into nature, ye that take +the widest surveys of life, inform me, kind shades of Malbranche and of +Locke, what that something can be, which excites and continues thought +in maiden aunts with small fortunes; in younger brothers that live upon +annuities; in traders retired from business; in soldiers absent from +their regiments; or in widows that have no children? + +Life is commonly considered as either active or contemplative; but +surely this division, how long soever it has been received, is +inadequate and fallacious. There are mortals whose life is certainly not +active, for they do neither good nor evil; and whose life cannot be +properly called contemplative, for they never attend either to the +conduct of men, or the works of nature, but rise in the morning, look +round them till night in careless stupidity, go to bed and sleep, and +rise again in the morning. + +It has been lately a celebrated question in the schools of philosophy, +_Whether the soul always thinks_! Some have defined the soul to be the +_power of thinking_; concluded that its essence consists in act; that, +if it should cease to act, it would cease to be; and that cessation of +thought is but another name for extinction of mind. This argument is +subtle, but not conclusive; because it supposes what cannot be proved, +that the nature of mind is properly defined. Others affect to disdain +subtilty, when subtilty will not serve their purpose, and appeal to +daily experience. We spend many hours, they say, in sleep, without the +least remembrance of any thoughts which then passed in our minds; and +since we can only by our own consciousness be sure that we think, why +should we imagine that we have had thought of which no consciousness +remains? + +This argument, which appeals to experience, may from experience be +confuted. We every day do something which we forget when it is done, and +know to have been done only by consequence. The waking hours are not +denied to have been passed in thought; yet he that shall endeavour to +recollect on one day the ideas of the former, will only turn the eye of +reflection upon vacancy; he will find that the greater part is +irrevocably vanished, and wonder how the moments could come and go, and +leave so little behind them. + +To discover only that the arguments on both sides are defective, and to +throw back the tenet into its former uncertainty, is the sport of wanton +or malevolent skepticism, delighting to see the sons of philosophy at +work upon a task which never can be decided. I shall suggest an argument +hitherto overlooked, which may perhaps determine the controversy. + +If it be impossible to think without materials, there must necessarily +be minds that do not always think; and whence shall we furnish materials +for the meditation of the glutton between his meals, of the sportsman in +a rainy month, of the annuitant between the days of quarterly payment, +of the politician when the mails are detained by contrary winds? + +But how frequent soever may be the examples of existence without +thought, it is certainly a state not much to be desired. He that lives +in torpid insensibility, wants nothing of a carcass but putrefaction. It +is the part of every inhabitant of the earth to partake the pains and +pleasures of his fellow-beings; and, as in a road through a country +desert and uniform, the traveller languishes for want of amusement, so +the passage of life will be tedious and irksome to him who does not +beguile it by diversified ideas. + + + + +No. 25. SATURDAY, OCTOBER 7, 1758. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Sir, + +I am a very constant frequenter of the playhouse, a place to which I +suppose the _Idler_ not much a stranger, since he can have no where else +so much entertainment with so little concurrence of his own endeavour. +At all other assemblies, he that comes to receive delight, will be +expected to give it; but in the theatre nothing is necessary to the +amusement of two hours, but to sit down and be willing to be pleased. + +The last week has offered two new actors to the town. The appearance and +retirement of actors are the great events of the theatrical world; and +their first performances fill the pit with conjecture and +prognostication, as the first actions of a new monarch agitate nations +with hope or fear. + +What opinion I have formed of the future excellence of these candidates +for dramatick glory, it is not necessary to declare. Their entrance gave +me a higher and nobler pleasure than any borrowed character can afford. +I saw the ranks of the theatre emulating each other in candour and +humanity, and contending who should most effectually assist the +struggles of endeavour, dissipate the blush of diffidence, and still the +flutter of timidity. + +This behaviour is such as becomes a people, too tender to repress those +who wish to please, too generous to insult those who can make no +resistance. A publick performer is so much in the power of spectators, +that all unnecessary severity is restrained by that general law of +humanity, which forbids us to be cruel where there is nothing to be +feared. + +In every new performer something must be pardoned. No man can, by any +force of resolution, secure to himself the full possession of his own +powers under the eye of a large assembly. Variation of gesture, and +flexion of voice, are to be obtained only by experience. + +There is nothing for which such numbers think themselves qualified as +for theatrical exhibition. Every human being has an action graceful to +his own eye, a voice musical to his own ear, and a sensibility which +nature forbids him to know that any other bosom can excel. An art in +which such numbers fancy themselves excellent, and which the publick +liberally rewards, will excite many competitors, and in many attempts +there must be many miscarriages. + +The care of the critick should be to distinguish errour from inability, +faults of inexperience from defects of nature. Action irregular and +turbulent may be reclaimed; vociferation vehement and confused may be +restrained and modulated; the stalk of the tyrant may become the gait of +the man; the yell of inarticulate distress may be reduced to human +lamentation. All these faults should be for a time overlooked, and +afterwards censured with gentleness and candour. But if in an actor +there appears an utter vacancy of meaning, a frigid equality, a stupid +languor, a torpid apathy, the greatest kindness that can be shown him is +a speedy sentence of expulsion. + +I am, Sir, &c. + +The plea which my correspondent has offered for young actors, I am very +far from wishing to invalidate. I always considered those combinations +which are sometimes formed in the playhouse, as acts of fraud or of +cruelty; he that applauds him who does not deserve praise, is +endeavouring to deceive the publick; he that hisses in malice or sport, +is an oppressor and a robber. + +But surely this laudable forbearance might be justly extended to young +poets. The art of the writer, like that of the player, is attained by +slow degrees. The power of distinguishing and discriminating comick +characters, or of filling tragedy with poetical images, must be the gift +of nature, which no instruction nor labour can supply; but the art of +dramatick disposition, the contexture of the scenes, the opposition of +characters, the involution of the plot, the expedients of suspension, +and the stratagems of surprise, are to be learned by practice; and it is +cruel to discourage a poet for ever, because he has not from genius what +only experience can bestow. + +Life is a stage. Let me likewise solicit candour for the young actor on +the stage of life. They that enter into the world are too often treated +with unreasonable rigour by those that were once as ignorant and heady +as themselves; and distinction is not always made between the faults +which require speedy and violent eradication, and those that will +gradually drop away in the progression of life. Vicious solicitations of +appetite, if not checked, will grow more importunate; and mean arts of +profit or ambition will gather strength in the mind, if they are not +early suppressed. But mistaken notions of superiority, desires of +useless show, pride of little accomplishments, and all the train of +vanity, will be brushed away by the wing of time. + +Reproof should not exhaust its power upon petty failings; let it watch +diligently against the incursion of vice, and leave foppery and futility +to die of themselves. + + + + +No. 26 SATURDAY, OCTOBER 14, 1758. + +Mr. Idler, + +I never thought that I should write any thing to be printed; but having +lately seen your first essay, which was sent down into the kitchen, with +a great bundle of gazettes and useless papers, I find that you are +willing to admit any correspondent, and therefore hope you will not +reject me. If you publish my letter, it may encourage others, in the +same condition with myself, to tell their stories, which may be, +perhaps, as useful as those of great ladies. + +I am a poor girl. I was bred in the country at a charity-school, +maintained by the contributions of wealthy neighbours. The ladies, or +patronesses, visited us from time to time, examined how we were taught, +and saw that our clothes were clean. We lived happily enough, and were +instructed to be thankful to those at whose cost we were educated. I was +always the favourite of my mistress; she used to call me to read and +show my copybook to all strangers, who never dismissed me without +commendation, and very seldom without a shilling. + +At last the chief of our subscribers, having passed a winter in London, +came down full of an opinion new and strange to the whole country. She +held it little less than criminal to teach poor girls to read and write. +They who are born to poverty, she said, are born to ignorance, and will +work the harder the less they know. She told her friends, that London +was in confusion by the insolence of servants; that scarcely a wench was +to be got for _all work_, since education had made such numbers of fine +ladies; that nobody would now accept a lower title than that of a +waiting-maid, or something that might qualify her to wear laced shoes +and long ruffles, and to sit at work in the parlour window. But she was +resolved, for her part, to spoil no more girls; those, who were to live +by their hands, should neither read nor write out of her pocket; the +world was bad enough already, and she would have no part in making it +worse. + +She was for a short time warmly opposed; but she persevered in her +notions, and withdrew her subscription. Few listen without a desire of +conviction to those who advise them to spare their money. Her example +and her arguments gained ground daily; and in less than a year the whole +parish was convinced, that the nation would be ruined, if the children +of the poor were taught to read and write. + +Our school was now dissolved: my mistress kissed me when we parted, and +told me, that, being old and helpless, she could not assist me; advised +me to seek a service, and charged me not to forget what I had learned. + +My reputation for scholarship, which had hitherto recommended me to +favour, was, by the adherents to the new opinion, considered as a crime; +and, when I offered myself to any mistress, I had no other answer than, +"Sure, child, you would not work! hard work is not fit for a pen-woman; +a scrubbing-brush would spoil your hand, child!" + +I could not live at home; and while I was considering to what I should +betake me, one of the girls, who had gone from our school to London, +came down in a silk gown, and told her acquaintance how well she lived, +what fine things she saw, and what great wages she received. I resolved +to try my fortune, and took my passage in the next week's waggon to +London. I had no snares laid for me at my arrival, but came safe to a +sister of my mistress, who undertook to get me a place. She knew only +the families of mean tradesmen; and I, having no high opinion of my own +qualifications, was willing to accept the first offer. + +My first mistress was wife of a working watch-maker, who earned more +than was sufficient to keep his family in decency and plenty; but it was +their constant practice to hire a chaise on Sunday, and spend half the +wages of the week on Richmond Hill; of Monday he commonly lay half in +bed, and spent the other half in merriment; Tuesday and Wednesday +consumed the rest of his money; and three days every week were passed in +extremity of want by us who were left at home, while my master lived on +trust at an alehouse. You may be sure, that of the sufferers, the maid +suffered most; and I left them, after three months, rather than be +starved. + +I was then maid to a hatter's wife. There was no want to be dreaded, for +they lived in perpetual luxury. My mistress was a diligent woman, and +rose early in the morning to set the journeymen to work; my master was a +man much beloved by his neighbours, and sat at one club or other every +night. I was obliged to wait on my master at night, and on my mistress +in the morning. He seldom came home before two, and she rose at five. I +could no more live without sleep than without food, and therefore +entreated them to look out for another servant. + +My next removal was to a linen-draper's, who had six children. My +mistress, when I first entered the house, informed me, that I must never +contradict the children, nor suffer them to cry. I had no desire to +offend, and readily promised to do my best. But when I gave them their +breakfast, I could not help all first; when I was playing with one in my +lap, I was forced to keep the rest in expectation. That which was not +gratified, always resented the injury with a loud outcry, which put my +mistress in a fury at me, and procured sugar-plums to the child. I could +not keep six children quiet, who were bribed to be clamorous; and was +therefore dismissed, as a girl honest, but not good-natured. + +I then lived with a couple that kept a petty shop of remnants and cheap +linen. I was qualified to make a bill, or keep a book; and being +therefore often called, at a busy time, to serve the customers, expected +that I should now be happy, in proportion as I was useful. But my +mistress appropriated every day part of the profit to some private use, +and, as she grew bolder in her thefts, at last deducted such sums, that +my master began to wonder how he sold so much, and gained so little. She +pretended to assist his inquiries, and began, very gravely, to hope that +"Betty was honest, and yet those sharp girls were apt to be +light-fingered." You will believe that I did not stay there much longer. + +The rest of my story I will tell you in another letter; and only beg to +be informed, in some paper, for which of my places, except perhaps the +last, I was disqualified by my skill in reading and writing. + +I am, Sir, + +Your very humble servant, + +BETTY BROOM. + + + + + No. 27. SATURDAY, OCTOBER 21, 1758. + +It has been the endeavour of all those whom the world has reverenced for +superior wisdom, to persuade man to be acquainted with himself, to learn +his own powers and his own weakness, to observe by what evils he is most +dangerously beset, and by what temptations most easily overcome. + +This counsel has been often given with serious dignity, and often +received with appearance of conviction; but, as very few can search deep +into their own minds without meeting what they wish to hide from +themselves, scarcely any man persists in cultivating such disagreeable +acquaintance, but draws the veil again between his eyes and his heart, +leaves his passions and appetites as he found them, and advises others +to look into themselves. + +This is the common result of inquiry even among those that endeavour to +grow wiser or better: but this endeavour is far enough from frequency; +the greater part of the multitudes that swarm upon the earth have never +been disturbed by such uneasy curiosity, but deliver themselves up to +business or to pleasure, plunge into the current of life, whether placid +or turbulent, and pass on from one point or prospect to another, +attentive rather to any thing than the state of their minds; satisfied, +at an easy rate, with an opinion, that they are no worse than others, +that every man must mind his own interest, or that their pleasures hurt +only themselves, and are therefore no proper subjects of censure. + +Some, however, there are, whom the intrusion of scruples, the +recollection of better notions, or the latent reprehension of good +examples, will not suffer to live entirely contented with their own +conduct; these are forced to pacify the mutiny of reason with fair +promises, and quiet their thoughts with designs of calling all their +actions to review, and planning a new scheme for the time to come. + +There is nothing which we estimate so fallaciously as the force of our +own resolutions, nor any fallacy which we so unwillingly and tardily +detect. He that has resolved a thousand times, and a thousand times +deserted his own purpose, yet suffers no abatement of his confidence, +but still believes himself his own master; and able, by innate vigour of +soul, to press forward to his end, through all the obstructions that +inconveniencies or delights can put in his way. + +That this mistake should prevail for a time, is very natural. When +conviction is present, and temptation out of sight, we do not easily +conceive how any reasonable being can deviate from his true interest. +What ought to be done, while it yet hangs only on speculation, is so +plain and certain, that there is no place for doubt; the whole soul +yields itself to the predominance of truth, and readily determines to do +what, when the time of action comes, will be at last omitted. + +I believe most men may review all the lives that have passed within +their observation, without remembering one efficacious resolution, or +being able to tell a single instance of a course of practice suddenly +changed in consequence of a change of opinion, or an establishment of +determination. Many, indeed, alter their conduct, and are not at fifty +what they were at thirty; but they commonly varied imperceptibly from +themselves, followed the train of external causes, and rather suffered +reformation than made it. + +It is not uncommon to charge the difference between promise and +performance, between profession and reality, upon deep design and +studied deceit; but the truth is, that there is very little hypocrisy in +the world; we do not so often endeavour or wish to impose on others, as +on ourselves; we resolve to do right, we hope to keep our resolutions, +we declare them to confirm our own hope, and fix our own inconstancy by +calling witnesses of our actions; but at last habit prevails, and those +whom we invited to our triumph laugh at our defeat. + +Custom is commonly too strong for the most resolute resolver, though +furnished for the assault with all the weapons of philosophy. "He that +endeavours to free himself from an ill habit," says Bacon, "must not +change too much at a time, lest he should be discouraged by difficulty; +nor too little, for then he will make but slow advances." This is a +precept which may be applauded in a book, but will fail in the trial, in +which every change will be found too great or too little. Those who have +been able to conquer habit, are like those that are fabled to have +returned from the realms of Pluto: + + --"Pauci, quos aequus amavit + Jupiter, atque ardens evexit ad aethera virtus." + +They are sufficient to give hope, but not security; to animate the +contest, but not to promise victory. + +Those who are in the power of evil habits must conquer them as they can; +and conquered they must be, or neither wisdom nor happiness can be +attained; but those who are not yet subject to their influence may, by +timely caution, preserve their freedom; they may effectually resolve to +escape the tyrant, whom they will very vainly resolve to conquer. + + + + +No. 28. SATURDAY, OCTOBER 28, 1758. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Sir, + +It is very easy for a man who sits idle at home, and has nobody to +please but himself, to ridicule or to censure the common practices of +mankind; and those who have no present temptation to break the rules of +propriety, may applaud his judgment, and join in his merriment; but let +the author or his readers mingle with common life, they will find +themselves irresistibly borne away by the stream of custom, and must +submit, after they have laughed at others, to give others the same +opportunity of laughing at them. + +There is no paper published by the Idler which I have read with more +approbation than that which censures the practice of recording vulgar +marriages in the newspapers. I carried it about in my pocket, and read +it to all those whom I suspected of having published their nuptials, or +of being inclined to publish them, and sent transcripts of it to all the +couples that transgressed your precepts for the next fortnight. I hoped +that they were all vexed, and pleased myself with imagining their +misery. + +But short is the triumph of malignity. I was married last week to Miss +Mohair, the daughter of a salesman; and, at my first appearance after +the wedding night, was asked, by my wife's mother, whether I had sent +our marriage to the Advertiser? I endeavoured to show how unfit it was +to demand the attention of the publick to our domestick affairs; but she +told me, with great vehemence, "That she would not have it thought to be +a stolen match; that the blood of the Mohairs should never be disgraced; +that her husband had served all the parish offices but one; that she had +lived five-and-thirty years at the same house, had paid every body +twenty shillings in the pound, and would have me know, though she was +not as fine and as flaunting as Mrs. Gingham, the deputy's wife, she was +not ashamed to tell her name, and would show her face with the best of +them; and since I had married her daughter--" At this instant entered my +father-in-law, a grave man, from whom I expected succour; but upon +hearing the case, he told me, "That it would be very imprudent to miss +such an opportunity of advertising my shop; and that when notice was +given of my marriage, many of my wife's friends would think themselves +obliged to be my customers." I was subdued by clamour on one side, and +gravity on the other, and shall be obliged to tell the town, that "three +days ago Timothy Mushroom, an eminent oilman in Seacoal-lane, was +married to Miss Polly Mohair of Lothbury, a beautiful young lady, with a +large fortune." + +I am, Sir, &c. + +Sir, + +I am the unfortunate wife of the grocer whose letter you published about +ten weeks ago, in which he complains, like a sorry fellow, that I loiter +in the shop with my needle-work in my hand, and that I oblige him to +take me out on Sundays, and keep a girl to look after the child. Sweet +Mr. Idler, if you did but know all, you would give no encouragement to +such an unreasonable grumbler. I brought him three hundred pounds, which +set him up in a shop, and bought in a stock, on which, with good +management, we might live comfortably; but now I have given him a shop, +I am forced to watch him and the shop too. I will tell you, Mr. Idler, +how it is. There is an alehouse over the way, with a ninepin alley, to +which he is sure to run when I turn my back, and there he loses his +money, for he plays at ninepins as he does every thing else. While he is +at this favourite sport, he sets a dirty boy to watch his door, and call +him to his customers; but he is so long in coming, and so rude when he +comes, that our custom falls off every day. + +Those who cannot govern themselves, must be governed. I have resolved to +keep him for the future behind his counter, and let him bounce at his +customers if he dares. I cannot be above stairs and below at the same +time, and have therefore taken a girl to look after the child, and dress +the dinner; and, after all, pray who is to blame? + +On a Sunday, it is true, I make him walk abroad, and sometimes carry the +child; I wonder who should carry it! But I never take him out till after +church-time, nor would do it then, but that, if he is left alone, he +will be upon the bed. On a Sunday, if he stays at home, he has six +meals, and, when he can eat no longer, has twenty stratagems to escape +from me to the alehouse; but I commonly keep the door locked, till +Monday produces something for him to do. + +This is the true state of the case, and these are the provocations for +which he has written his letter to you. I hope you will write a paper to +show, that, if a wife must spend her whole time in watching her husband, +she cannot conveniently tend her child, or sit at her needle. + +I am, Sir, &c. + +Sir, + +There is in this town a species of oppression which the law has not +hitherto prevented or redressed. + +I am a chairman. You know, Sir, we come when we are called, and are +expected to carry all who require our assistance. It is common for men +of the most unwieldy corpulence to crowd themselves into a chair, and +demand to be carried for a shilling as far as an airy young lady whom we +scarcely feel upon our poles. Surely we ought to be paid, like all other +mortals, in proportion to our labour. Engines should be fixed in proper +places to weigh chairs as they weigh waggons; and those, whom ease and +plenty have made unable to carry themselves, should give part of their +superfluities to those who carry them. + +I am, Sir, &c. + + + + +No. 29. SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 4, 1758. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Sir, + +I have often observed, that friends are lost by discontinuance of +intercourse without any offence on either part, and have long known, +that it is more dangerous to be forgotten than to be blamed; I therefore +make haste to send you the rest of my story, lest, by the delay of +another fortnight, the name of Betty Broom might be no longer remembered +by you or your readers. + +Having left the last place in haste, to avoid the charge or the +suspicion of theft, I had not secured another service, and was forced to +take a lodging in a back-street. I had now got good clothes. The woman +who lived in the garret opposite to mine was very officious, and offered +to take care of my room and clean it, while I went round to my +acquaintance to inquire for a mistress. I knew not why she was so kind, +nor how I could recompense her; but in a few days I missed some of my +linen, went to another lodging, and resolved not to have another friend +in the next garret. + +In six weeks I became under-maid at the house of a mercer in Cornhill, +whose son was his apprentice. The young gentleman used to sit late at +the tavern, without the knowledge of his father; and I was ordered by my +mistress to let him in silently to his bed under the counter, and to be +very careful to take away his candle. The hours which I was obliged to +watch, whilst the rest of the family was in bed, I considered as +supernumerary, and, having no business assigned for them, thought myself +at liberty to spend them my own way: I kept myself awake with a book, +and for some time liked my state the better for this opportunity of +reading. At last, the upper-maid found my book, and showed it to my +mistress, who told me, that wenches like me might spend their time +better; that she never knew any of the readers that had good designs in +their heads; that she could always find something else to do with her +time, than to puzzle over books; and did not like that such a fine lady +should sit up for her young master. + +This was the first time that I found it thought criminal or dangerous to +know how to read. I was dismissed decently, lest I should tell tales, +and had a small gratuity above my wages. + +I then lived with a gentlewoman of a small fortune. This was the only +happy part of my life. My mistress, for whom publick diversions were too +expensive, spent her time with books, and was pleased to find a maid who +could partake her amusements. I rose early in the morning, that I might +have time in the afternoon to read or listen, and was suffered to tell +my opinion, or express my delight. Thus fifteen months stole away, in +which I did not repine that I was born to servitude. But a burning fever +seized my mistress, of whom I shall say no more, than that her servant +wept upon her grave. + +I had lived in a kind of luxury, which made me very unfit for another +place; and was rather too delicate for the conversation of a kitchen; so +that when I was hired in the family of an East-India director, my +behaviour was so different, as they said, from that of a common servant, +that they concluded me a gentlewoman in disguise, and turned me out in +three weeks, on suspicion of some design which they could not +comprehend. + +I then fled for refuge to the other end of the town, where I hoped to +find no obstruction from my new accomplishments, and was hired under the +housekeeper in a splendid family. Here I was too wise for the maids, and +too nice for the footmen; yet I might have lived on without much +uneasiness, had not my mistress, the housekeeper, who used to employ me +in buying necessaries for the family, found a bill which I had made of +one day's expense. I suppose it did not quite agree with her own book, +for she fiercely declared her resolution, that there should be no pen +and ink in that kitchen but her own. + +She had the justice, or the prudence, not to injure my reputation; and I +was easily admitted into another house in the neighbourhood, where my +business was to sweep the rooms and make the beds. Here I was, for some +time, the favourite of Mrs. Simper, my lady's woman, who could not bear +the vulgar girls, and was happy in the attendance of a young woman of +some education. Mrs. Simper loved a novel, though she could not read +hard words, and therefore, when her lady was abroad, we always laid hold +on her books. At last, my abilities became so much celebrated, that the +house-steward used to employ me in keeping his accounts. Mrs. Simper +then found out, that my sauciness was grown to such a height that nobody +could endure it, and told my lady, that there never had been a room well +swept, since Betty Broom came into the house. + +I was then hired by a consumptive lady, who wanted a maid that could +read and write. I attended her four years, and though she was never +pleased, yet when I declared my resolution to leave her, she burst into +tears, and told me that I must bear the peevishness of a sick bed, and I +should find myself remembered in her will. I complied, and a codicil was +added in my favour; but in less than a week, when I set her gruel before +her, I laid the spoon on the left side, and she threw her will into the +fire. In two days she made another, which she burnt in the same manner, +because she could not eat her chicken. A third was made, and destroyed +because she heard a mouse within the wainscot, and was sure that I +should suffer her to be carried away alive. After this I was for some +time out of favour, but as her illness grew upon her, resentment and +sullenness gave way to kinder sentiments. She died, and left me five +hundred pounds; with this fortune I am going to settle in my native +parish, where I resolve to spend some hours every day in teaching poor +girls to read and write[1]. + +I am, Sir, +Your humble servant, + +BETTY BROOM. +[1] Mrs. Gardiner, a pious, sensible, and charitable woman, for whom + Johnson entertained a high respect, is said to have afforded a hint + for the story of Betty Broom, from her zealous support of a Ladies' + Charity-school, confined to females. Boswell, vol. iv. + + + + +No. 30. SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 11, 1758. + +The desires of man increase with his acquisitions; every step which he +advances brings something within his view, which he did not see before, +and which, as soon as he sees it, he begins to want. Where necessity +ends, curiosity begins; and no sooner are we supplied with every thing +that nature can demand, than we sit down to contrive artificial +appetites. + +By this restlessness of mind, every populous and wealthy city is filled +with innumerable employments, for which the greater part of mankind is +without a name; with artificers, whose labour is exerted in producing +such petty conveniencies, that many shops are furnished with +instruments, of which the use can hardly be found without inquiry, but +which he that once knows them quickly learns to number among necessary +things. + +Such is the diligence with which, in countries completely civilized, one +part of mankind labours for another, that wants are supplied faster than +they can be formed, and the idle and luxurious find life stagnate for +want of some desire to keep it in motion. This species of distress +furnishes a new set of occupations; and multitudes are busied, from day +to day, in finding the rich and the fortunate something to do. + +It is very common to reproach those artists as useless, who produce only +such superfluities as neither accommodate the body, nor improve the +mind; and of which no other effect can be imagined, than that they are +the occasions of spending money, and consuming time. + +But this censure will be mitigated, when it is seriously considered, +that money and time are the heaviest burdens of life, and that the +unhappiest of all mortals are those who have more of either than they +know how to use. To set himself free from these incumbrances, one +hurries to Newmarket; another travels over Europe; one pulls down his +house and calls architects about him; another buys a seat in the +country, and follows his hounds over hedges and through rivers; one +makes collections of shells; and another searches the world for tulips +and carnations. + +He is surely a publick benefactor who finds employment for those to whom +it is thus difficult to find it for themselves. It is true, that this is +seldom done merely from generosity or compassion; almost every man seeks +his own advantage in helping others, and therefore it is too common for +mercenary officiousness to consider rather what is grateful, than what +is right. + +We all know that it is more profitable to be loved than esteemed; and +ministers of pleasure will always be found, who study to make themselves +necessary, and to supplant those who are practising the same arts. + +One of the amusements of idleness is reading without the fatigue of +close attention, and the world therefore swarms with writers whose wish +is not to be studied, but to be read. + +No species of literary men has lately been so much multiplied as the +writers of news. Not many years ago the nation was content with one +gazette; but now we have not only in the metropolis papers for every +morning and every evening, but almost every large town has its weekly +historian, who regularly circulates his periodical intelligence, and +fills the villages of his district with conjectures on the events of +war, and with debates on the true interest of Europe. + +To write news in its perfection requires such a combination of +qualities, that a man completely fitted for the task is not always to be +found. In Sir Henry Wotton's jocular definition, _An ambassador_ is said +to be _a man of virtue sent abroad to tell lies for the advantage of his +country_; a news-writer is _a man without virtue, who writes lies at +home for his own profit_. To these compositions is required neither +genius nor knowledge, neither industry nor sprightliness; but contempt +of shame and indifference to truth are absolutely necessary. He who by a +long familiarity with infamy has obtained these qualities, may +confidently tell to-day what he intends to contradict to-morrow; he may +affirm fearlessly what he knows that he shall be obliged to recant, and +may write letters from Amsterdam or Dresden to himself. + +In a time of war the nation is always of one mind, eager to hear +something good of themselves and ill of the enemy. At this time the task +of news-writers is easy: they have nothing to do but to tell that a +battle is expected, and afterwards that a battle has been fought, in +which we and our friends, whether conquering or conquered, did all, and +our enemies did nothing. + +Scarcely any thing awakens attention like a tale of cruelty. The writer +of news never fails in the intermission of action to tell how the +enemies murdered children and ravished virgins; and, if the scene of +action be somewhat distant, scalps half the inhabitants of a province. + +Among the calamities of war may be justly numbered the diminution of the +love of truth, by the falsehoods which interest dictates, and credulity +encourages. A peace will equally leave the warriour and relater of wars +destitute of employment; and I know not whether more is to be dreaded +from streets filled with soldiers accustomed to plunder, or from garrets +filled with scribblers accustomed to lie. + + + + +No. 31. SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 18, 1758. + +Many moralists have remarked, that pride has of all human vices the +widest dominion, appears in the greatest multiplicity of forms, and lies +hid under the greatest variety of disguises; of disguises, which, like +the moon's _veil of brightness_, are both its _lustre and its shade_, +and betray it to others, though they hide it from ourselves. + +It is not my intention to degrade pride from this pre-eminence of +mischief; yet I know not whether idleness may not maintain a very +doubtful and obstinate competition. + +There are some that profess idleness in its full dignity, who call +themselves the _Idle_, as Busiris in the play calls himself the _Proud_; +who boast that they do nothing, and thank their stars that they have +nothing to do; who sleep every night till they can sleep no longer, and +rise only that exercise may enable them to sleep again; who prolong the +reign of darkness by double curtains, and never see the sun but to _tell +him how they hate his beams_; whose whole labour is to vary the posture +of indolence, and whose day differs from their night, but as a couch or +chair differs from a bed. + +These are the true and open votaries of idleness, for whom she weaves +the garlands of poppies, and into whose cup she pours the waters of +oblivion; who exist in a state of unruffled stupidity, forgetting and +forgotten; who have long ceased to live, and at whose death the +survivors can only say, that they have ceased to breathe. + +But idleness predominates in many lives where it is not suspected; for, +being a vice which terminates in itself, it may be enjoyed without +injury to others; and it is therefore not watched like fraud, which +endangers property; or like pride, which naturally seeks its +gratifications in another's inferiority. Idleness is a silent and +peaceful quality, that neither raises envy by ostentation, nor hatred by +opposition; and therefore nobody is busy to censure or detect it. + +As pride sometimes is hid under humility, idleness is often covered by +turbulence and hurry. He that neglects his known duty and real +employment, naturally endeavours to crowd his mind with something that +may bar out the remembrance of his own folly, and does any thing but +what he ought to do with eager diligence, that he may keep himself in +his own favour. + +Some are always in a state of preparation, occupied in previous +measures, forming plans, accumulating materials, and providing for the +main affair. These are certainly under the secret power of idleness. +Nothing is to be expected from the workman whose tools are for ever to +be sought. I was once told by a great master, that no man ever excelled +in painting, who was eminently curious about pencils and colours. + +There are others to whom idleness dictates another expedient, by which +life may be passed unprofitably away without the tediousness of many +vacant hours. The art is, to fill the day with petty business, to have +always something in hand which may raise curiosity, but not solicitude, +and keep the mind in a state of action, but not of labour. + +This art has for many years been practised by my old friend Sober with +wonderful success. Sober is a man of strong desires and quick +imagination, so exactly balanced by the love of ease, that they can +seldom stimulate him to any difficult undertaking; they have, however, +so much power, that they will not suffer him to lie quite at rest; and +though they do not make him sufficiently useful to others, they make him +at least weary of himself. + +Mr. Sober's chief pleasure is conversation; there is no end of his talk +or his attention; to speak or to hear is equally pleasing; for he still +fancies that he is teaching or learning something, and is free for the +time from his own reproaches. + +But there is one time at night when he must go home, that his friends +may sleep; and another time in the morning, when all the world agrees to +shut out interruption. These are the moments of which poor Sober +trembles at the thought. But the misery of these tiresome intervals he +has many means of alleviating. He has persuaded himself that the manual +arts are undeservedly overlooked; he has observed in many trades the +effects of close thought, and just ratiocination. From speculation he +proceeded to practice, and supplied himself with the tools of a +carpenter, with which he mended his coal-box very successfully, and +which he still continues to employ, as he finds occasion. + +He has attempted at other times the crafts of the shoemaker, tinman, +plumber, and potter; in all these arts he has failed, and resolves to +qualify himself for them by better information. But his daily amusement +is chymistry. He has a small furnace, which he employs in distillation, +and which has long been the solace of his life. He draws oils and +waters, and essences and spirits, which he knows to be of no use; sits +and counts the drops, as they come from his retort, and forgets that, +whilst a drop is falling, a moment flies away. + +Poor Sober! I have often teased him with reproof, and he has often +promised reformation; for no man is so much open to conviction as the +Idler, but there is none on whom it operates so little. What will be the +effect of this paper I know not; perhaps, he will read it and laugh, and +light the fire in his furnace; but my hope is, that he will quit his +trifles, and betake himself to rational and useful diligence[1]. + +[1] In Mr. Sober, we may recognise traits of Dr. Johnson's own + character. No. 67 of the Idler is another portrait of him. + + + + +No. 32. SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 25, 1758. + +Among the innumerable mortifications that waylay human arrogance on +every side, may well be reckoned our ignorance of the most common +objects and effects, a defect of which we become more sensible, by every +attempt to supply it. Vulgar and inactive minds confound familiarity +with knowledge, and conceive themselves informed of the whole nature of +things when they are shown their form or told their use; but the +speculatist, who is not content with superficial views, harasses himself +with fruitless curiosity, and still as he inquires more, perceives only +that he knows less. + +Sleep is a state in which a great part of every life is passed. No +animal has been yet discovered, whose existence is not varied with +intervals of insensibility; and some late philosophers have extended the +empire of sleep over the vegetable world. + +Yet of this change, so frequent, so great, so general, and so necessary, +no searcher has yet found either the efficient or final cause; or can +tell by what power the mind and body are thus chained down in +irresistible stupefaction; or what benefits the animal receives from +this alternate suspension of its active powers. + +Whatever may be the multiplicity or contrariety of opinions upon this +subject, nature has taken sufficient care that theory shall have little +influence on practice. The most diligent inquirer is not able long to +keep his eyes open; the most eager disputant will begin about midnight +to desert his argument; and, once in four-and-twenty hours, the gay and +the gloomy, the witty and the dull, the clamorous and the silent, the +busy and the idle, are all overpowered by the gentle tyrant, and all lie +down in the equality of sleep. + +Philosophy has often attempted to repress insolence, by asserting, that +all conditions are levelled by death; a position which, however it may +deject the happy, will seldom afford much comfort to the wretched. It is +far more pleasing to consider, that, sleep is equally a leveller with +death; that the time is never at a great distance, when the balm of rest +shall be diffused alike upon every head, when the diversities of life +shall stop their operation, and the high and the low shall lie down +together[1]. + +It is somewhere recorded of Alexander, that in the pride of conquests, +and intoxication of flattery, he declared that he only perceived himself +to be a man by the necessity of sleep. Whether he considered sleep as +necessary to his mind or body, it was indeed a sufficient evidence of +human infirmity; the body which required such frequency of renovation, +gave but faint promises of immortality; and the mind which, from time to +time, sunk gladly into insensibility, had made no very near approaches +to the felicity of the supreme and self-sufficient nature. + +I know not what can tend more to repress all the passions, that disturb +the peace of the world, than the consideration that there is no height +of happiness or honour, from which man does not eagerly descend to a +state of unconscious repose; that the best condition of life is such, +that we contentedly quit its good to be disentangled from its evils; +that in a few hours splendour fades before the eye, and praise itself +deadens in the ear; the senses withdraw from their objects, and reason +favours the retreat. + +What then are the hopes and prospects of covetousness, ambition, and +rapacity? Let him that desires most have all his desires gratified, he +never shall attain a state which he can, for a day and a night, +contemplate with satisfaction, or from which, if he had the power of +perpetual vigilance, he would not long for periodical separations. + +All envy would be extinguished, if it were universally known that there +are none to be envied, and surely none can be much envied who are not +pleased with themselves. There is reason to suspect, that the +distinctions of mankind have more show than value, when it is found that +all agree to be weary alike of pleasures and of cares; that the powerful +and the weak, the celebrated and obscure, join in one common wish, and +implore from nature's hand the nectar of oblivion. + +Such is our desire of abstraction from ourselves, that very few are +satisfied with the quantity of stupefaction which the needs of the body +force upon the mind. Alexander himself added intemperance to sleep, and +solaced with the fumes of wine the sovereignty of the world: and almost +every man has some art by which he steals his thoughts away from his +present state. + +It is not much of life that is spent in close attention to any important +duty. Many hours of every day are suffered to fly away without any +traces left upon the intellects. We suffer phantoms to rise up before +us, and amuse ourselves with the dance of airy images, which, after a +time, we dismiss for ever, and know not how we have been busied. + +Many have no happier moments than those that they pass in solitude, +abandoned to their own imagination, which sometimes puts sceptres in +their hands or mitres on their heads, shifts the scene of pleasure with +endless variety, bids all the forms of beauty sparkle before them, and +gluts them with every change of visionary luxury. + +It is easy in these semi-slumbers to collect all the possibilities of +happiness, to alter the course of the sun, to bring back the past, and +anticipate the future, to unite all the beauties of all seasons, and all +the blessings of all climates, to receive and bestow felicity, and +forget that misery is the lot of man. All this is a voluntary dream, a +temporary recession from the realities of life to airy fictions; and +habitual subjection of reason to fancy. + +Others are afraid to be alone, and amuse themselves by a perpetual +succession of companions: but the difference is not great; in solitude +we have our dreams to ourselves, and in company we agree to dream in +concert. The end sought in both is forgetfulness of ourselves. + +[1] "For half their life," says Aristotle, "the happy differ not from + the wretched.".--Nichom. Ethic, i. 13. + + [Greek: Hypn odunas adaaes, Hypne d algeon + Euaaes haemin elthois, + Euaion, euaion anax.] Soph. Philoct. 827. + + + + + No. 33. SATURDAY, DECEMBER 2, 1758. + +[I hope the author of the following letter[1] will excuse the omission +of some parts, and allow me to remark, that the Journal of the Citizen +in the Spectator has almost precluded the attempt of any future writer.] + + --_Non ita Romuli Praescriptum, et intonsi Catonis +Auspiciis, veterumque normâ_. HOR. Lib. ii. Ode xv. 10. + +Sir, + +You have often solicited correspondence. I have sent you the Journal of +a Senior Fellow, or Genuine Idler, just transmitted from Cambridge by a +facetious correspondent, and warranted to have been transcribed from the +common-place book of the journalist. + +Monday, Nine o'Clock. Turned off my bed-maker for waking me at eight. +Weather rainy. Consulted my weather-glass. No hopes of a ride before +dinner. + +Ditto, Ten. After breakfast, transcribed half a sermon from Dr. Hickman. +N.B. Never to transcribe any more from Calamy; Mrs. Pilcocks, at my +curacy, having one volume of that author lying in her parlour-window. + +Ditto, Eleven. Went down into my cellar. Mem. My Mountain will be fit to +drink in a month's time. N.B. To remove the five-year old port into the +new bin on the left hand. + +Ditto, Twelve. Mended a pen. Looked at my weather-glass again. +Quicksilver very low. Shaved. Barber's hand shakes. + +Ditto, One. Dined alone in my room on a sole. N.B. The shrimp-sauce not +so good as Mr. H. of Peterhouse and I used to eat in London last winter +at the Mitre in Fleet-street. Sat down to a pint of Madeira. Mr. H. +surprised me over it. We finished two bottles of port together, and were +very cheerful. Mem. To dine with Mr. H. at Peterhouse next Wednesday. +One of the dishes a leg of pork and pease, by my desire. + +Ditto, Six. Newspaper in the common room. + +Ditto, Seven. Returned to my room. Made a tiff of warm punch, and to bed +before nine; did not fall asleep till ten, a young fellow commoner being +very noisy over my head. + +Tuesday, Nine, Rose squeamish. A fine morning. Weather-glass very high. + +Ditto, Ten. Ordered my horse, and rode to the five-mile stone on the +Newmarket road. Appetite gets better. A pack of hounds, in full cry, +crossed the road, and startled my horse. + +Ditto, Twelve. Drest. Found a letter on my table to be in London the +19th inst. Bespoke a new wig. + +Ditto, One. At dinner in the hall. Too much water in the soup. Dr. Dry +always orders the beef to be salted too much for me. + +Ditto, Two. In the common room. Dr. Dry gave us an instance of a +gentleman who kept the gout out of his stomach by drinking old Madeira. +Conversation chiefly on the expeditions. Company broke up at four. Dr. +Dry and myself played at backgammon for a brace of snipes. Won. + +Ditto, Five. At the coffee-house. Met Mr. H. there. Could not get a +sight of the Monitor. + +Ditto, Seven. Returned home, and stirred my fire. Went to the common +room, and supped on the snipes with Dr. Dry. + +Ditto, Eight. Began the evening in the common room. Dr. Dry told several +stories. Were very merry. Our new fellow, that studies physick, very +talkative toward twelve. Pretends he will bring the youngest Miss ---- to +drink tea with me soon. Impertinent blockhead! + +Wednesday, Nine. Alarmed with a pain in my ankle. Q. The gout? Fear I +can't dine at Peterhouse; but I hope a ride will set all to rights. +Weather-glass below Fair. + +Ditto, Ten. Mounted my horse, though the weather suspicious. Pain in my +ankle entirely gone. Caught in a shower coming back. Convinced that my +weather-glass is the best in Cambridge. + +Ditto, Twelve. Drest. Sauntered up to the Fish-monger's hill. Met Mr. H. +and went with him to Peterhouse. Cook made us wait thirty-six minutes +beyond the time. The company, some of my Emmanuel friends. For dinner, a +pair of soles, a leg of pork and pease, among other things. Mem. +Pease-pudding not boiled enough. Cook reprimanded and sconced in my +presence. + +Ditto, after Dinner. Pain in my ankle returns. Dull all the afternoon. +Rallied for being no company. Mr. H.'s account of the accommodations on +the road in his Bath journey. + +Ditto, Six. Got into spirits. Never was more chatty. We sat late at +whist. Mr. H. and self agreed at parting to take a gentle ride, and dine +at the old house on the London road to-morrow. + +Thursday, Nine. My sempstress. She has lost the measure of my wrist. +Forced to be measured again. The baggage has got a trick of smiling. + +Ditto, Ten to Eleven. Made some rappee snuff. Read the magazines. +Received a present of pickles from Miss Pilcocks. Mem. To send in return +some collared eel, which I know both the old lady and miss are fond of. + +Ditto, Eleven. Glass very high. Mounted at the gate with Mr. H. Horse +skittish, and wants exercise. Arrive at the old house. All the +provisions bespoke by some rakish fellow-commoner in the next room, who +had been on a scheme to Newmarket. Could get nothing but mutton-chops +off the worst end. Port very new. Agree to try some other house +to-morrow. + +Here the journal breaks off: for the next morning, as my friend informs +me, our genial academick was waked with a severe fit of the gout; and, +at present, enjoys all the dignity of that disease. But I believe we +have lost nothing by this interruption: since a continuation of the +remainder of the journal, through the remainder of the week, would most +probably have exhibited nothing more than a repeated relation of the +same circumstances of idling and luxury. + +I hope it will not be concluded, from this specimen of academick life, +that I have attempted to decry our universities. If literature is not +the essential requisite of the modern academick, I am yet persuaded, +that Cambridge and Oxford, however degenerated, surpass the fashionable +_academies_ of our metropolis, and the _gymnasia_ of foreign countries. +The number of learned persons in these celebrated seats is still +considerable, and more conveniencies and opportunities for study still +subsist in them, than in any other place. There is at least one very +powerful incentive to learning; I mean the GENIUS _of the place_. It is +a sort of inspiring deity, which every youth of quick sensibility and +ingenious disposition creates to himself, by reflecting, that he is +placed under those venerable walls, where a HOOKER and a HAMMOND, a +BACON and a NEWTON, once pursued the same course of science, and from +whence they soared to the most elevated heights of literary fame. This +is that incitement which Tully, according to his own testimony, +experienced at Athens, when he contemplated the porticos where Socrates +sat, and the laurel-groves where Plato disputed[2]. + +But there are other circumstances, and of the highest importance, which +render our colleges superior to all other places of education. Their +institutions, although somewhat fallen from their primaeval simplicity, +are such as influence, in a particular manner, the moral conduct of +their youth; and in this general depravity of manners and laxity of +principles, pure religion is no where more strongly inculcated. The +_academies_, as they are presumptuously styled, are too low to be +mentioned; and foreign seminaries are likely to prejudice the unwary +mind with Calvinism. But English universities render their students +virtuous, at least by excluding all opportunities of vice; and, by +teaching them the principles of the Church of England, confirm them in +those of true Christianity. + +[1] Mr. Thomas Warton. + +[2] A rich assemblage of examples, of the "influence of perceptible + objects in reviving former thoughts and former feelings," is + collected in Dr. Brown's Philosophy of the Human Mind, vol. 2, + Lecture 38. + + + + +No. 34. SATURDAY, DECEMBER 9, 1758. + +To illustrate one thing by its resemblance to another, has been always +the most popular and efficacious art of instruction. There is indeed no +other method of teaching that of which any one is ignorant, but by means +of something already known; and a mind so enlarged by contemplation, and +inquiry, that it has always many objects within its view, will seldom be +long without some near and familiar image through which an easy +transition may be made to truths more distant and obscure. + +Of the parallels which have been drawn by wit and curiosity, some are +literal and real, as between poetry and painting, two arts which pursue +the same end, by the operation of the same mental faculties, and which +differ only as the one represents things by marks permanent and natural, +the other by signs accidental and arbitrary. The one, therefore, is more +easily and generally understood, since similitude of form is immediately +perceived; the other is capable of conveying more ideas, for men have +thought and spoken of many things which they do not see. + +Other parallels are fortuitous and fanciful, yet these have sometimes +been extended to many particulars of resemblance by a lucky concurrence +of diligence and chance. The animal body is composed of many members, +united under the direction of one mind: any number of individuals, +connected for some common purpose, is therefore called a body. From this +participation of the same appellation arose the comparison of the body +natural and body politick, of which, how far soever it has been deduced, +no end has hitherto been found. + +In these imaginary similitudes, the same word is used at once in its +primitive and metaphorical sense. Thus health, ascribed to the body +natural, is opposed to sickness; but attributed to the body politick +stands as contrary to adversity. These parallels therefore have more of +genius, but less of truth; they often please, but they never convince. + +Of this kind is a curious speculation frequently indulged by a +philosopher of my acquaintance, who had discovered, that the qualities +requisite to conversation are very exactly represented by a bowl of +punch. + +Punch, says this profound investigator, is a liquor compounded of spirit +and acid juices, sugar and water. The spirit, volatile and fiery, is the +proper emblem of vivacity and wit; the acidity of the lemon will very +aptly figure pungency of raillery, and acrimony of censure; sugar is the +natural representative of luscious adulation and gentle complaisance; +and water is the proper hieroglyphick of easy prattle, innocent and +tasteless. + +Spirit alone is too powerful for use. It will produce madness rather +than merriment; and instead of quenching thirst will inflame the blood. +Thus wit, too copiously poured out, agitates the hearer with emotions +rather violent than pleasing; every one shrinks from the force of its +oppression, the company sits entranced and overpowered; all are +astonished, but nobody is pleased. + +The acid juices give this genial liquor all its power of stimulating the +palate. Conversation would become dull and vapid, if negligence were not +sometimes roused, and sluggishness quickened, by due severity of +reprehension. But acids unmixed will distort the face and torture the +palate; and he that has no other qualities than penetration and +asperity, he whose constant employment is detection and censure, who +looks only to find faults, and speaks only to punish them, will soon be +dreaded, hated and avoided. + +The taste of sugar is generally pleasing, but it cannot long be eaten by +itself. Thus meekness and courtesy will always recommend the first +address, but soon pall and nauseate, unless they are associated with +more sprightly qualities. The chief use of sugar is to temper the taste +of other substances; and softness of behaviour, in the same manner, +mitigates the roughness of contradiction, and allays the bitterness of +unwelcome truth. + +Water is the universal vehicle by which are conveyed the particles +necessary to sustenance and growth, by which thirst is quenched, and all +the wants of life and nature are supplied. Thus all the business of the +world is transacted by artless and easy talk, neither sublimed by fancy, +nor discoloured by affectation, without either the harshness of satire, +or the lusciousness of flattery. By this limpid vein of language, +curiosity is gratified, and all the knowledge is conveyed which one man +is required to impart for the safety or convenience of another. Water is +the only ingredient in punch which can be used alone, and with which man +is content till fancy has framed an artificial want. Thus while we only +desire to have our ignorance informed, we are most delighted with the +plainest diction; and it is only in the moments of idleness or pride, +that we call for the gratifications of wit or flattery. + +He only will please long, who, by tempering the acidity of satire with +the sugar of civility, and allaying the heat of wit with the frigidity +of humble chat, can make the true punch of conversation; and, as that +punch can be drunk in the greatest quantity which has the largest +proportion of water, so that companion will be oftenest welcome, whose +talk flows out with inoffensive copiousness, and unenvied insipidity. + + + + +No. 35. SATURDAY, DECEMBER 16, 1758. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Mr. Idler, + +If it be difficult to persuade the idle to be busy, it is likewise, as +experience has taught me, not easy to convince the busy that it is +better to be idle. When you shall despair of stimulating sluggishness to +motion, I hope you will turn your thoughts towards the means of stilling +the bustle of pernicious activity. + +I am the unfortunate husband of a _buyer of bargains_. My wife has +somewhere heard, that a good housewife _never_ has any thing to +_purchase when it is wanted_. This maxim is often in her mouth, and +always in her head. She is not one of those philosophical talkers that +speculate without practice; and learn sentences of wisdom only to repeat +them: she is always making additions to her stores; she never looks into +a broker's shop, but she spies something that may be wanted some time; +and it is impossible to make her pass the door of a house where she +hears _goods selling by auction_. + +Whatever she thinks cheap, she holds it the duty of an economist to buy; +in consequence of this maxim, we are encumbered on every side with +useless lumber. The servants can scarcely creep to their beds through +the chests and boxes that surround them. The carpenter is employed once +a week in building closets, fixing cupboards, and fastening shelves; and +my house has the appearance of a ship stored for a voyage to the +colonies. + +I had often observed that advertisements set her on fire; and therefore, +pretending to emulate her laudable frugality, I forbade the newspaper to +be taken any longer; but my precaution is vain; I know not by what +fatality, or by what confederacy, every catalogue of _genuine furniture_ +comes to her hand, every advertisement of a warehouse newly opened, is +in her pocketbook, and she knows before any of her neighbours when the +stock of any man _leaving off trade_ is to be _sold cheap for ready +money_. + +Such intelligence is to my dear-one the Syren's song. No engagement, no +duty, no interest, can withhold her from a sale, from which she always +returns congratulating herself upon her dexterity at a bargain; the +porter lays down his burden in the hall; she displays her new +acquisitions, and spends the rest of the day in contriving where they +shall be put. + +As she cannot bear to have any thing uncomplete, one purchase +necessitates another; she has twenty feather-beds more than she can use, +and a late sale has supplied her with a proportionable number of Witney +blankets, a large roll of linen for sheets, and five quilts for every +bed, which she bought because the seller told her, that if she would +clear his hands he would let her have a bargain. + +Thus by hourly encroachments my habitation is made narrower and +narrower; the dining-room is so crowded with tables, that dinner +scarcely can be served; the parlour is decorated with so many piles of +china, that I dare not step within the door; at every turn of the stairs +I have a clock, and half the windows of the upper floors are darkened, +that shelves may be set before them. + +This, however, might be borne, if she would gratify her own inclinations +without opposing mine. But I, who am idle, am luxurious, and she +condemns me to live upon salt provisions. She knows the loss of buying +in small quantities, we have, therefore, whole hogs and quarters of +oxen. Part of our meat is tainted before it is eaten, and part is thrown +away because it is spoiled; but she persists in her system, and will +never buy any thing by single penny-worths. + +The common vice of those who are still grasping at more, is to neglect +that which they already possess; but from this failing my charmer is +free. It is the great care of her life that the pieces of beef should be +boiled in the order in which they are bought; that the second bag of +pease should not be opened till the first be eaten; that every +feather-bed should be lain on in its turn; that the carpets should be +taken out of the chests once a month and brushed, and the rolls of linen +opened now and then before the fire. She is daily inquiring after the best +traps for mice, and keeps the rooms always scented by fumigations to +destroy the moths. She employs workmen, from time to time, to adjust six +clocks that never go, and clean five jacks that rust in the garret; and +a woman in the next alley lives by scouring the brass and pewter, which +are only laid up to tarnish again. + +She is always imagining some distant time, in which she shall use +whatever she accumulates: she has four looking-glasses which she cannot +hang up in her house, but which will be handsome in more lofty rooms; +and pays rent for the place of a vast copper in some warehouse, because, +when we live in the country, we shall brew our own beer. + +Of this life I have long been weary, but know not how to change it: all +the married men whom I consult advise me to have patience; but some old +bachelors are of opinion that, since she loves sales so well, she should +have a sale of her own; and I have, I think, resolved to open her +hoards, and advertise an auction. + +I am, Sir, + +Your very humble servant, + +PETER PLENTY. + + + + +No. 30. SATURDAY, DECEMBER 23, 1758. + +The great differences that disturb the peace of mankind are not about +ends, but means. We have all the same general desires, but how those +desires shall be accomplished will for ever be disputed. The ultimate +purpose of government is temporal, and that of religion is eternal +happiness. Hitherto we agree; but here we must part, to try, according +to the endless varieties of passion and understanding combined with one +another, every possible form of government, and every imaginable tenet +of religion. + +We are told by Cumberland that _rectitude_, applied to action or +contemplation, is merely metaphorical; and that as a _right_ line +describes the shortest passage from point to point, so a _right_ action +effects a good design by the fewest means; and so likewise a _right_ +opinion is that which connects distant truths by the shortest train of +intermediate propositions. + +To find the nearest way from truth to truth, or from purpose to effect, +not to use more instruments where fewer will be sufficient; not to move +by wheels and levers what will give way to the naked hand, is the great +proof of a healthful and vigorous mind, neither feeble with helpless +ignorance, nor overburdened with unwieldy knowledge. + +But there are men who seem to think nothing so much the characteristick +of a genius, as to do common things in an uncommon manner; like +Hudibras, to _tell the clock by algebra_; or like the lady in Dr. +Young's satires, _to drink tea by stratagem_; to quit the beaten track, +only because it is known, and take a new path, however crooked or rough, +because the straight was found out before. + +Every man speaks and writes with intent to be understood; and it can +seldom happen but he that understands himself, might convey his notions +to another, if, content to be understood, he did not seek to be admired; +but when once he begins to contrive how his sentiments may be received, +not with most ease to his reader, but with most advantage to himself, he +then transfers his consideration from words to sounds, from sentences to +periods, and as he grows more elegant becomes less intelligible. + +It is difficult to enumerate every species of authors whose labours +counteract themselves; the man of exuberance and copiousness, who +diffuses every thought through so many diversities of expression, that +it is lost like water in a mist; the ponderous dictator of sentences, +whose notions are delivered in the lump, and are, like uncoined bullion, +of more weight than use; the liberal illustrator, who shows by examples +and comparisons what was clearly seen when it was first proposed; and +the stately son of demonstration, who proves with mathematical formality +what no man has yet pretended to doubt. + +There is a mode of style for which I know not that the masters of +oratory have yet found a name; a style by which the most evident truths +are so obscured that they can no longer be perceived, and the most +familiar propositions so disguised that they cannot be known. Every +other kind of eloquence is the dress of sense; but this is the mask by +which a true master of his art will so effectually conceal it, that a +man will as easily mistake his own positions, if he meets them thus +transformed, as he may pass in a masquerade his nearest acquaintance. + +This style may be called the _terrifick_, for its chief intention is to +terrify and amaze; it may be termed the _repulsive_, for its natural +effect is to drive away the reader; or it may be distinguished, in plain +English, by the denomination of the _bugbear style_, for it has more +terrour than danger, and will appear less formidable as it is more +nearly approached. + +A mother tells her infant, that _two and two make four_; the child +remembers the proposition, and is able to count four to all the purposes +of life, till the course of his education brings him among philosophers, +who fright him from his former knowledge, by telling him, that four is a +certain aggregate of units; that all numbers being only the repetition +of an unit, which, though not a number itself, is the parent, root, or +original of all number, _four_ is the denomination assigned to a certain +number of such repetitions. The only danger is, lest, when he first +hears these dreadful sounds, the pupil should run away; if he has but +the courage to stay till the conclusion, he will find that, when +speculation has done its worst, two and two still make four. + +An illustrious example of this species of eloquence may be found in +"Letters concerning Mind." The author begins by declaring, that "the +sorts of things are things that now are, have been, and shall be, and +the things that strictly _are_." In this position, except the last +clause, in which he uses something of the scholastick language, there is +nothing but what every man has heard, and imagines himself to know. But +who would not believe that some wonderful novelty is presented to his +intellect, when he is afterwards told, in the true bugbear style, that +"the _ares_, in the former sense, are things that lie between the +_have-beens_ and _shall-bes_. The _have-beens_ are things that are past; +the _shall-bes_ are things that are to come; and the things that _are_, +in the latter sense, are things that have not been, nor shall be, nor +stand in the midst of such as are before them, or shall be after them. +The things that _have been_, and _shall be_, have respect to present, +past, and future. + +"Those likewise that now _are_ have moreover place; that, for instance, +which is here, that which is to the east, that which is to the west." + +All this, my dear reader, is very strange; but though it be strange, it +is not new; survey these wonderful sentences again, and they will be +found to contain nothing more than very plain truths, which, till this +author arose, had always been delivered in plain language[1]. + + +[1] These "Letters on Mind" were written by a Mr. Petvin, who after some + years again astounded the literary public by sending forth, in + diction equally terrific, another tract entitled a "Summary of the + Soul's Perceptive Faculties," 1768. He was at that time compared to + Duns Scotus, the subtle Doctor, who, in the weakness of old age, + wept because he could not understand the subtleties of his earlier + writings. + + + + +No. 37. SATURDAY, DECEMBER 30, 1758. + +Those who are skilled in the extraction and preparation of metals +declare, that iron is every where to be found; and that not only its +proper ore is copiously treasured in the caverns of the earth, but that +its particles are dispersed throughout all other bodies. + +If the extent of the human view could comprehend the whole frame of the +universe, I believe it would be found invariably true, that Providence +has given that in greatest plenty, which the condition of life makes of +greatest use; and that nothing is penuriously imparted, or placed far +from the reach of man, of which a more liberal distribution, or more +easy acquisition, would increase real and rational felicity. + +Iron is common, and gold is rare. Iron contributes so much to supply the +wants of nature, that its use constitutes much of the difference between +savage and polished life, between the state of him that slumbers in +European palaces, and him that shelters himself in the cavities of a +rock from the chilness of the night, or the violence of the storm. Gold +can never be hardened into saws or axes; it can neither furnish +instruments of manufacture, utensils of agriculture, nor weapons of +defence; its only quality is to shine, and the value of its lustre +arises from its scarcity. + +Throughout the whole circle, both of natural and moral life, necessaries +are as iron, and superfluities as gold. What we really need we may +readily obtain; so readily, that far the greater part of mankind has, in +the wantonness of abundance, confounded natural with artificial desires, +and invented necessities for the sake of employment, because the mind is +impatient of inaction, and life is sustained with so little labour, that +the tediousness of idle time cannot otherwise be supported. + +Thus plenty is the original cause of many of our needs; and even the +poverty, which is so frequent and distressful in civilized nations, +proceeds often from that change of manners which opulence has produced. +Nature makes us poor only when we want necessaries; but custom gives the +name of poverty to the want of superfluities. + +When Socrates passed through shops of toys and ornaments, he cried out, +"How many things are here which I do not need!" And the same exclamation +may every man make who surveys the common accommodations of life. + +Superfluity and difficulty begin together. To dress food for the stomach +is easy, the art is to irritate the palate when the stomach is sufficed. +A rude hand may build walls, form roofs, and lay floors, and provide all +that warmth and security require; we only call the nicer artificers to +carve the cornice, or to paint the ceilings. Such dress as may enable +the body to endure the different seasons, the most unenlightened nations +have been able to procure; but the work of science begins in the +ambition of distinction, in variations of fashion, and emulation of +elegance. Corn grows with easy culture; the gardener's experiments are +only employed to exalt the flavours of fruits, and brighten the colours +of flowers. + +Even of knowledge, those parts are most easy which are generally +necessary. The intercourse of society is maintained without the +elegancies of language. Figures, criticisms, and refinements, are the +work of those whom idleness makes weary of themselves. The commerce of +the world is carried on by easy methods of computation. Subtilty and +study are required only when questions are invented merely to puzzle, +and calculations are extended to show the skill of the calculator. The +light of the sun is equally beneficial to him whose eyes tell him that +it moves, and to him whose reason persuades him that it stands still; +and plants grow with the same luxuriance, whether we suppose earth or +water the parent of vegetation. + +If we raise our thoughts to nobler inquiries, we shall still find +facility concurring with usefulness. No man needs stay to be virtuous, +till the moralists have determined the essence of virtue; our duty is +made apparent by its proximate consequences, though the general and +ultimate reason should never be discovered. Religion may regulate the +life of him to whom the Scotists and Thomists are alike unknown; and the +assertors of fate and free-will, however different in their talk, agree +to act in the same manner. + +It is not my intention to depreciate the politer arts or abstruser +studies. That curiosity which always succeeds ease and plenty, was +undoubtedly given us as a proof of capacity which our present state is +not able to fill, as a preparative for some better mode of existence, +which shall furnish employment for the whole soul, and where pleasure +shall be adequate to our powers of fruition. In the mean time, let us +gratefully acknowledge that goodness which grants us ease at a cheap +rate, which changes the seasons where the nature of heat and cold has +not been yet examined, and gives the vicissitudes of day and night to +those who never marked the tropicks, or numbered the constellations. + + + + +No. 38. SATURDAY, JANUARY 6, 1759. + +Since the publication of the letter concerning the condition of those +who are confined in gaols by their creditors, an inquiry is said to have +been made, by which it appears that more than twenty thousand[1] are at +this time prisoners for debt. + +We often look with indifference on the successive parts of that, which, +if the whole were seen together, would shake us with emotion. A debtor +is dragged to prison, pitied for a moment, and then forgotten; another +follows him, and is lost alike in the caverns of oblivion; but when the +whole mass of calamity rises up at once, when twenty thousand reasonable +beings are heard all groaning in unnecessary misery, not by the +infirmity of nature, but the mistake or negligence of policy, who can +forbear to pity and lament, to wonder and abhor? + +There is here no need of declamatory vehemence: we live in an age of +commerce and computation; let us, therefore, coolly inquire what is the +sum of evil which the imprisonment of debtors brings upon our country. + +It seems to be the opinion of the later computists, that the inhabitants +of England do not exceed six millions, of which twenty thousand is the +three-hundredth part. What shall we say of the humanity or the wisdom of +a nation, that voluntarily sacrifices one in every three hundred to +lingering destruction? + +The misfortunes of an individual do not extend their influence to many; +yet, if we consider the effects of consanguinity and friendship, and the +general reciprocation of wants and benefits, which make one man dear or +necessary to another, it may reasonably be supposed, that every man +languishing in prison gives trouble of some kind to two others who love +or need him. By this multiplication of misery we see distress extended +to the hundredth part of the whole society. + +If we estimate at a shilling a day what is lost by the inaction, and +consumed in the support of each man thus chained down to involuntary +idleness, the publick loss will rise in one year to three hundred +thousand pounds; in ten years to more than a sixth part of our +circulating coin. + +I am afraid that those who are best acquainted with the state of our +prisons will confess that my conjecture is too near the truth, when I +suppose that the corrosion of resentment, the heaviness of sorrow, the +corruption of confined air, the want of exercise, and sometimes of food, +the contagion of diseases, from which there is no retreat, and the +severity of tyrants, against whom there can be no resistance, and all +the complicated horrours of a prison, put an end every year to the life +of one in four of those that are shut up from the common comforts of +human life. + +Thus perish yearly five thousand men overborne with sorrow, consumed by +famine, or putrefied by filth; many of them in the most vigorous and +useful part of life; for the thoughtless and imprudent are commonly +young, and the active and busy are seldom old. + +According to the rule generally received, which supposes that one in +thirty dies yearly, the race of man may be said to be renewed at the end +of thirty years. Who would have believed till now, that of every English +generation, a hundred and fifty thousand perish in our gaols? that in +every century, a nation eminent for science, studious of commerce, +ambitious of empire, should willingly lose, in noisome dungeons, five +hundred thousand of its inhabitants; a number greater than has ever been +destroyed in the same time by pestilence and the sword? + +A very late occurrence may show us the value of the number which we thus +condemn to be useless; in the reestablishment of the trained bands, +thirty thousand are considered as a force sufficient against all +exigencies. While, therefore, we detain twenty thousand in prison, we +shut up in darkness and uselessness two-thirds of an army which +ourselves judge equal to the defence of our country. + +The monastick institutions have been often blamed, as tending to retard +the increase of mankind. And, perhaps, retirement ought rarely to be +permitted, except to those whose employment is consistent with +abstraction, and who, though solitary, will not be idle; to those whom +infirmity makes useless to the commonwealth, or to those who have paid +their due proportion to society, and who, having lived for others, may +be honourably dismissed to live for themselves. But whatever be the evil +or the folly of these retreats, those have no right to censure them +whose prisons contain greater numbers than the monasteries of other +countries. It is, surely, less foolish and less criminal to permit +inaction than compel it; to comply with doubtful opinions of happiness, +than condemn to certain and apparent misery; to indulge the +extravagancies of erroneous piety, than to multiply and enforce +temptations to wickedness. + +The misery of gaols is not half their evil: they are filled with every +corruption which poverty and wickedness can generate between them; with +all the shameless and profligate enormities that can be produced by the +impudence of ignominy, the rage of want, and the malignity of despair. +In a prison the awe of the publick eye is lost, and the power of the law +is spent; there are few fears, there are no blushes. The lewd inflame +the lewd, the audacious harden the audacious. Every one fortifies +himself as he can against his own sensibility, endeavours to practise on +others the arts which are practised on himself; and gains the kindness +of his associates by similitude of manners. + +Thus some sink amidst their misery, and others survive only to propagate +villany. It may be hoped, that our lawgivers will at length take away +from us this power of starving and depraving one another; but, if there +be any reason why this inveterate evil should not be removed in our age, +which true policy has enlightened beyond any former time, let those, +whose writings form the opinions and the practices of their +contemporaries, endeavour to transfer the reproach of such imprisonment +from the debtor to the creditor, till universal infamy shall pursue the +wretch whose wantonness of power, or revenge of disappointment, condemns +another to torture and to ruin; till he shall be hunted through the +world as an enemy to man, and find in riches no shelter from contempt. + +Surely, he whose debtor has perished in prison, although he may acquit +himself of deliberate murder, must at least have his mind clouded with +discontent, when he considers how much another has suffered from him; +when he thinks on the wife bewailing her husband, or the children +begging the bread which their father would have earned. If there are any +made so obdurate by avarice or cruelty, as to revolve these consequences +without dread or pity, I must leave them to be awakened by some other +power, for I write only to human beings[2]. + + +[1] This number was, at that time, confidently published; but the author +has since found reason to question the calculation. + +[2] A series of Essays, entitled the Farrago, was published in 1792, for + the benefit of the society for the discharge and relief of persons + imprisoned for small debts. See Dr. Drake's Essays on the Rambler, + &c. vol. ii. p. 427. The Congress of the United States passed a law + in 1824, abolishing arrest and imprisonment for debt. The measure + has yet to stand the test of practice and experience. See Idler 22. + and note. + + + + +No. 39. SATURDAY, JANUARY 13, 1759. + + _Nec genus ornatus unun est: quod quamque decebit, + Eligat_--OVID. Ars. Am. iii. 135. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Sir, + +As none look more diligently about them than those who have nothing to +do, or who do nothing, I suppose it has not escaped your observation, +that the bracelet, an ornament of great antiquity, has been for some +years revived among the English ladies. + +The genius of our nation is said, I know not for what reason, to appear +rather in improvement than invention. The bracelet was known in the +earliest ages; but it was formerly only a hoop of gold, or a cluster of +jewels, and showed nothing but the wealth or vanity of the wearer, till +our ladies, by carrying pictures on their wrists, made their ornaments +works of fancy and exercises of judgment. + +This addition of art to luxury is one of the innumerable proofs that +might be given of the late increase of female erudition; and I have +often congratulated myself that my life has happened at a time when +those, on whom so much of human felicity depends, have learned to think +as well as speak, and when respect takes possession of the ear, while +love is entering at the eye. + +I have observed, that, even by the suffrages of their own sex, those +ladies are accounted wisest, who do not yet disdain to be taught; and, +therefore, I shall offer a few hints for the completion of the bracelet, +without any dread of the fate of Orpheus. + +To the ladies, who wear the pictures of their husbands or children, or +any other relations, I can offer nothing more decent or more proper. It +is reasonable to believe that she intends at least to perform her duty, +who carries a perpetual excitement to recollection and caution, whose +own ornaments must upbraid her with every failure, and who, by an open +violation of her engagements, must for ever forfeit her bracelet. + +Yet I know not whether it is the interest of the husband to solicit very +earnestly a place on the bracelet. If his image be not in the heart, it +is of small avail to hang it on the hand. A husband encircled with +diamonds and rubies may gain some esteem, but will never excite love. He +that thinks himself most secure of his wife, should be fearful of +persecuting her continually with his presence. The joy of life is +variety; the tenderest love requires to be rekindled by intervals of +absence; and Fidelity herself will be wearied with transferring her eye +only from the same man to the same picture. + +In many countries the condition of every woman is known by her dress. +Marriage is rewarded with some honourable distinction, which celibacy is +forbidden to usurp. Some such information a bracelet might afford. The +ladies might enrol themselves in distinct classes, and carry in open +view the emblems of their order. The bracelet of the authoress may +exhibit the Muses in a grove of laurel; the housewife may show Penelope +with her web; the votaress of a single life may carry Ursula with her +troop of virgins; the gamester may have Fortune with her wheel; and +those women _that have no character at all_ may display a field of white +enamel, as imploring help to fill up the vacuity. + +There is a set of ladies who have outlived most animal pleasures, and, +having nothing rational to put in their place, solace with cards the +loss of what time has taken away, and the want of what wisdom, having +never been courted, has never given. For these I know not how to provide +a proper decoration. They cannot be numbered among the gamesters; for +though they are always at play, they play for nothing, and never rise to +the dignity of hazard or the reputation of skill. They neither love nor +are loved, and cannot be supposed to contemplate any human image with +delight. Yet, though they despair to please, they always wish to be +fine, and, therefore, cannot be without a bracelet. To this sisterhood I +can recommend nothing more likely to please them than the king of clubs, +a personage very comely and majestick, who will never meet their eyes +without reviving the thought of some past or future party, and who may +be displayed, in the act of dealing, with grace and propriety. + +But the bracelet which might be most easily introduced into general use +is a small convex mirror, in which the lady may see herself whenever she +shall lift her hand. This will be a perpetual source of delight. Other +ornaments are of use only in publick, but this will furnish +gratifications to solitude. This will show a face that must always +please; she who is followed by admirers will carry about her a perpetual +justification of the publick voice; and she who passes without notice +may appeal from prejudice to her own eyes. + +But I know not why the privilege of the bracelet should be confined to +women; it was in former ages worn by heroes in battle; and, as modern +soldiers are always distinguished by splendour of dress, I should +rejoice to see the bracelet added to the cockade. + +In hope of this ornamental innovation, I have spent some thoughts upon +military bracelets. There is no passion more heroick than love; and, +therefore, I should be glad to see the sons of England marching in the +field, every man with the picture of a woman of honour bound upon his +hand. But since in the army, as every where else, there will always be +men who love nobody but themselves, or whom no woman of honour will +permit to love her, there is a necessity of some other distinctions and +devices. + +I have read of a prince who, having lost a town, ordered the name of it +to be every morning shouted in his ear till it should be recovered. For +the same purpose I think the prospect of Minorca might be properly worn +on the hands of some of our generals: others might delight their +countrymen, and dignify themselves, with a view of Rochfort as it +appeared to them at sea: and those that shall return from the conquest +of America, may exhibit the warehouse of Frontenac, with an inscription +denoting, that it was taken in less than three years by less than twenty +thousand men. + +I am, Sir, &c. + +TOM TOY. + + + + +No. 40. SATURDAY, JANUARY 20, 1759. + +The practice of appending to the narratives of publick transactions more +minute and domestick intelligence, and filling the newspapers with +advertisements, has grown up by slow degrees to its present state. + +Genius is shown only by invention. The man who first took advantage of +the general curiosity that was excited by a siege or battle, to betray +the readers of news into the knowledge of the shop where the best puffs +and powder were to be sold, was undoubtedly a man of great sagacity, and +profound skill in the nature of man. But when he had once shown the way, +it was easy to follow him; and every man now knows a ready method of +informing the publick of all that he desires to buy or sell; whether his +wares be material or intellectual; whether he makes clothes, or teaches +the mathematicks; whether he be a tutor that wants a pupil, or a pupil +that wants a tutor. + +Whatever is common is despised. Advertisements are now so numerous that +they are very negligently perused, and it is, therefore, become +necessary to gain attention by magnificence of promises, and by +eloquence sometimes sublime and sometimes pathetick. + +Promise, large promise, is the soul of an advertisement. I remember a +_wash-ball_ that had a quality truly wonderful--it gave an _exquisite +edge to the razor_. And there are now to be sold, _for ready money +only_, some _duvets for bed-coverings, of down, beyond comparison +superior to what is called otter-down_, and indeed such, that its _many +excellencies cannot be here set forth_. With one excellence we are made +acquainted--_it is warmer than four or five blankets, and lighter than +one._ + +There are some, however, that know the prejudice of mankind in favour of +modest sincerity. The vender of the _beautifying fluid_ sells a lotion +that repels pimples, washes away freckles, smooths the skin, and plumps +the flesh; and yet, with a generous abhorrence of ostentation, +confesses, that it will not _restore the bloom of fifteen to a lady of +fifty_. + +The true pathos of advertisements must have sunk deep into the heart of +every man that remembers the zeal shown by the seller of the _anodyne +necklace_, for the ease and safety of _poor teething infants_, and the +affection with which he warned every mother, that _she would never +forgive herself_, if her infant should perish without a necklace. + +I cannot but remark to the celebrated author who gave, in his +notifications of the camel and dromedary, so many specimens of the +genuine sublime, that there is now arrived another subject yet more +worthy of his pen. _A famous Mohawk Indian warrior, who took_ Dieskaw +_the French general prisoner, dressed in the same manner with the native +Indians when they go to war, with his face and body painted, with his +scalping-knife, tom-axe, and all other implements of war! a sight worthy +the curiosity of every true Briton!_ This is a very powerful +description; but a critick of great refinement would say, that it +conveys rather _horrour_ than _terrour_. An Indian, dressed as he goes +to war, may bring company together; but if he carries the scalping-knife +and tom-axe, there are many true Britons that will never be persuaded to +see him but through a grate. + +It has been remarked by the severer judges, that the salutary sorrow of +tragick scenes is too soon effaced by the merriment of the epilogue; the +same inconvenience arises from the improper disposition of +advertisements. The noblest objects may be so associated as to be made +ridiculous. The camel and dromedary themselves might have lost much of +their dignity between _the true flower of mustard_ and the _original +Daffy's elixir_; and I could not but feel some indignation when I found +this illustrious Indian warrior immediately succeeded by _a fresh parcel +of Dublin butter_. + +The trade of advertising is now so near to perfection, that it is not +easy to propose any improvement. But as every art ought to be exercised +in due subordination to the publick good, I cannot but propose it as a +moral question to these masters of the publick ear, Whether they do not +sometimes play too wantonly with our passions, as when the registrar of +lottery-tickets invites us to his shop by an account of the prize which +he sold last year; and whether the advertising controvertists do not +indulge asperity of language without any adequate provocation; as in the +dispute about _straps for razors_, now happily subsided, and in the +altercation which at present subsists concerning _eau de luce_? + +In an advertisement it is allowed to every man to speak well of himself, +but I know not why he should assume the privilege of censuring his +neighbour. He may proclaim his own virtue or skill, but ought not to +exclude others from the same pretensions. + +Every man that advertises his own excellence should write with some +consciousness of a character which dares to call the attention of the +publick. He should remember that his name is to stand in the same paper +with those of the king of Prussia and the emperour of Germany, and +endeavour to make himself worthy of such association. + +Some regard is likewise to be paid to posterity. There are men of +diligence and curiosity who treasure up the papers of the day merely +because others neglect them, and in time they will be scarce. When these +collections shall be read in another century, how will numberless +contradictions be reconciled? and how shall fame be possibly distributed +among the tailors and bodice-makers of the present age? + +Surely these things deserve consideration. It is enough for me to have +hinted my desire that these abuses may be rectified; but such is the +state of nature, that what all have the right of doing, many will +attempt without sufficient care or due qualifications[1]. + +[1] A history of newspapers, more diffuse than the chronological series + in Nichols' Literary Anecdotes, Vol. iv. is desirable. See Preface. + + + + +No. 41. SATURDAY, JANUARY 27, 1759. + +The following letter relates to an affliction perhaps not necessary to +be imparted to the publick; but I could not persuade myself to suppress +it, because I think, I know the sentiments to be sincere, and I feel no +disposition to provide for this day any other entertainment. + + At, tu quisquis eris, miseri qui cruda poetae + Credideris fletu funera digna tuo, + Haec postrema tibi sit flendi causa, fluatque + Lenis inoffenso vitaque morsque gradu. OVID. + +Mr. Idler, + +Notwithstanding the warnings of philosophers, and the daily examples of +losses and misfortunes which life forces upon our observation, such is +the absorption of our thoughts in the business of the present day, such +the resignation of our reason to empty hopes of future felicity, or such +our unwillingness to foresee what we dread, that every calamity comes +suddenly upon us, and not only presses us as a burden, but crushes as a +blow. + +There are evils which happen out of the common course of nature, against +which it is no reproach not to be provided. A flash of lightning +intercepts the traveller in his way. The concussion of an earthquake +heaps the ruins of cities upon their inhabitants. But other miseries +time brings, though silently yet visibly, forward by its even lapse, +which yet approach us unseen, because we turn our eyes away, and seize +us unresisted, because we could not arm ourselves against them but by +setting them before us. + +That it is vain to shrink from what cannot be avoided, and to hide that +from ourselves which must some time be found, is a truth which we all +know, but which all neglect, and, perhaps, none more than the +speculative reasoner, whose thoughts are always from home, whose eye +wanders over life, whose fancy dances after meteors of happiness kindled +by itself, and who examines every thing rather than his own state. + +Nothing is more evident than that the decays of age must terminate in +death; yet there is no man, says Tully, who does not believe that he may +yet live another year; and there is none who does not, upon the same +principle, hope another year for his parent or his friend: but the +fallacy will be in time detected; the last year, the last day, must +come. It has come, and is past. The life which made my own life pleasant +is at an end, and the gates of death are shut upon my prospects. + +The loss of a friend upon whom the heart was fixed, to whom every wish +and endeavour tended, is a state of dreary desolation, in which the mind +looks abroad impatient of itself, and finds nothing but emptiness and +horrour. The blameless life, the artless tenderness, the pious +simplicity, the modest resignation, the patient sickness, and the quiet +death, are remembered only to add value to the loss, to aggravate regret +for what cannot be amended, to deepen sorrow for what cannot be +recalled. + +These are the calamities by which Providence gradually disengages us +from the love of life. Other evils fortitude may repel, or hope may +mitigate; but irreparable privation leaves nothing to exercise +resolution or flatter expectation. The dead cannot return, and nothing +is left us here but languishment and grief. + +Yet such is the course of nature, that whoever lives long must outlive +those whom he loves and honours. Such is the condition of our present +existence, that life must one time lose its associations, and every +inhabitant of the earth must walk downward to the grave alone and +unregarded, without any partner of his joy or grief, without any +interested witness of his misfortunes or success. + +Misfortune, indeed, he may yet feel; for where is the bottom of the +misery of man? But what is success to him that has none to enjoy it? +Happiness is not found in self-contemplation; it is perceived only when +it is reflected from another. + +We know little of the state of departed souls, because such knowledge is +not necessary to a good life. Reason deserts us at the brink of the +grave, and can give no further intelligence. Revelation is not wholly +silent. "There is joy in the angels of Heaven over one sinner that +repenteth;" and, surely, this joy is not incommunicable to souls +disentangled from the body, and made like angels. + +Let hope therefore dictate, what revelation does not confute, that the +union of souls may still remain; and that we who are struggling with +sin, sorrow, and infirmities, may have our part in the attention and +kindness of those who have finished their course, and are now receiving +their reward. + +These are the great occasions which force the mind to take refuge in +religion: when we have no help in ourselves, what can remain but that we +look up to a higher and a greater Power? and to what hope may we not +raise our eyes and hearts, when we consider that the greatest POWER is +the BEST? + +Surely there is no man who, thus afflicted, does not seek succour in the +_gospel_, which has brought _life and immortality to light_. The +precepts of Epicurus, who teaches us to endure what the laws of the +universe make necessary, may silence, but not content us. The dictates +of Zeno, who commands us to look with indifference on external things, +may dispose us to conceal our sorrow, but cannot assuage it. Real +alleviation of the loss of friends, and rational tranquillity, in the +prospect of our own dissolution, can be received only from the promises +of Him in whose hands are life and death, and from the assurance of +another and better state, in which all tears will be wiped from the +eyes, and the whole soul shall be filled with joy. Philosophy may infuse +stubbornness, but Religion only can give patience[1]. + +I am, &c. + +[1] See Preface. + + + + +No. 42. SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 1759. + +The subject of the following letter is not wholly unmentioned by the +Rambler. The Spectator has also a letter containing a case not much +different. I hope my correspondent's performance is more an effort of +genius, than an effusion of the passions; and that she hath rather +attempted to paint some possible distress, than really feels the evils +which she has described. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Sir, + +There is a cause of misery, which, though certainly known both to you +and your predecessors, has been little taken notice of in your papers; I +mean the snares that the bad behaviour of parents extends over the paths +of life which their children are to tread after them; and as I make no +doubt but the Idler holds the shield for virtue, as well as the glass +for folly; that he will employ his leisure hours as much to his own +satisfaction in warning his readers against a danger, as in laughing +them out of a fashion: for this reason I am tempted to ask admittance +for my story in your paper, though it has nothing to recommend it but +truth, and the honest wish of warning others to shun the track which, I +am afraid, may lead me at last to ruin. + +I am the child of a father, who, having always lived in one spot in the +country where he was born, and having had no genteel education himself, +thought no qualifications in the world desirable but as they led up to +fortune, and no learning necessary to happiness but such as might most +effectually teach me to make the best market of myself. I was +unfortunately born a beauty, to a full sense of which my father took +care to flatter me; and having, when very young, put me to a school in +the country, afterwards transplanted me to another in town, at the +instigation of his friends, where his ill-judged fondness let me remain +no longer than to learn just enough experience to convince me of the +sordidness of his views, to give me an idea of perfections which my +present situation will never suffer me to reach, and to teach me +sufficient morals to dare to despise what is bad, though it be in a +father. + +Thus equipped (as he thought completely) for life, I was carried back +into the country, and lived with him and my mother in a small village, +within a few miles of the county town; where I mixed, at first with +reluctance, among company which, though I never despised, I could not +approve, as they were brought up with other inclinations, and narrower +views than my own. My father took great pains to show me every where, +both at his own house, and at such publick diversions as the country +afforded: he frequently told the people all he had was for his daughter; +took care to repeat the civilities I had received from all his friends +in London; told how much I was admired, and all his little ambition +could suggest to set me in a stronger light. + +Thus have I continued tricked out for sale, as I may call it, and +doomed, by parental authority, to a state little better than that of +prostitution. I look on myself as growing cheaper every hour, and am +losing all that honest pride, that modest confidence, in which the +virgin dignity consists. Nor does my misfortune stop here: though many +would be too generous to impute the follies of a father to a child whose +heart has set her above them; yet I am afraid the most charitable of +them will hardly think it possible for me to be a daily spectatress of +his vices without tacitly allowing them, and at last consenting to them, +as the eye of the frightened infant is, by degrees, reconciled to the +darkness of which at first it was afraid. + +It is a common opinion, he himself must very well know, that vices, like +diseases, are often hereditary; and that the property of the one is to +infect the manners, as the other poisons the springs of life. + +Yet this, though bad, is not the worst; my father deceives himself in +the hopes of the very child he has brought into the world; he suffers +his house to be the seat of drunkenness, riot, and irreligion, who +seduces, almost in my sight, the menial servant, converses with the +prostitute, and corrupts the wife! Thus I, who from my earliest dawn of +reason was taught to think that at my approach every eye sparkled with +pleasure, or was dejected as conscious of superior charms, am excluded +from society, through fear lest I should partake, if not of my father's +crimes, at least of his reproach. Is a parent, who is so little +solicitous for the welfare of a child, better than a pirate who turns a +wretch adrift in a boat at sea, without a star to steer by, or an anchor +to hold it fast? Am I not to lay all my miseries at those doors which +ought to have been opened only for my protection? And if doomed to add +at last one more to the number of those wretches whom neither the world +nor its law befriends, may I not justly say that I have been awed by a +parent into ruin? But though a parent's power is screened from insult +and violation by the very words of Heaven, yet surely no laws, divine or +human, forbid me to remove myself from the malignant shade of a plant +that poisons all around it, blasts the bloom of youth, checks its +improvements, and makes all its flowrets fade; but to whom can the +wretched, can the dependant fly? For me to fly a father's house, is to +be a beggar: I have only one comfort amidst my anxieties, a pious +relation, who bids me appeal to Heaven for a witness to my just +intentions, fly as a deserted wretch to its protection; and, being asked +who my father is, point, like the ancient philosopher, with my finger to +the heavens. + +The hope in which I write this is, that you will give it a place in your +paper; and, as your essays sometimes find their way into the country, +that my father may read my story there; and, if not for his own sake, +yet for mine, spare to perpetuate that worst of calamities to me, the +loss of character, from which all his dissimulation has not been able to +rescue himself. Tell the world, Sir, that it is possible for virtue to +keep its throne unshaken without any other guard than itself; that it is +possible to maintain that purity of thought so necessary to the +completion of human excellence, even in the midst of temptations; when +they have no friend within, nor are assisted by the voluntary indulgence +of vicious thoughts. + +If the insertion of a story like this does not break in on the plan of +your paper, you have it in your power to be a better friend than her +father to + +PERDITA[1]. + +[1]From an unknown correspondent. + + + + +No. 43. SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 10, 1759. + +The natural advantages which arise from the position of the earth which +we inhabit with respect to the other planets, afford much employment to +mathematical speculation; by which it has been discovered, that no other +conformation of the system could have given such commodious +distributions of light and heat, or imparted fertility and pleasure to +so great a part of a revolving sphere. + +It may be, perhaps, observed by the moralist, with equal reason, that +our globe seems particularly fitted for the residence of a being, placed +here only for a short time, whose task is to advance himself to a higher +and happier state of existence, by unremitted vigilance of caution, and +activity of virtue. + +The duties required of man are such as human nature does not willingly +perform, and such as those are inclined to delay who yet intend some +time to fulfil them. It was, therefore, necessary that this universal +reluctance should be counteracted, and the drowsiness of hesitation +wakened into resolve; that the danger of procrastination should he +always in view, and the fallacies of security be hourly detected. + +To this end all the appearances of nature uniformly conspire. Whatever +we see on every side reminds us of the lapse of time and the flux of +life. The day and night succeed each other, the rotation of seasons +diversifies the year, the sun rises, attains the meridian, declines, and +sets; and the moon every night changes its form. + +The day has been considered as an image of the year, and the year as the +representation of life. The morning answers to the spring, and the +spring to childhood and youth; the noon corresponds to the summer, and +the summer to the strength of manhood. The evening is an emblem of +autumn, and autumn of declining life. The night with its silence and +darkness shows the winter, in which all the powers of vegetation are +benumbed; and the winter points out the time when life shall cease, with +its hopes and pleasures. + +He that is carried forward, however swiftly, by a motion equable and +easy, perceives not the change of place but by the variation of objects. +If the wheel of life, which rolls thus silently along, passed on through +undistinguishable uniformity, we should never mark its approaches to the +end of the course. If one hour were like another; if the passage of the +sun did not show that the day is wasting; if the change of seasons did +not impress upon us the flight of the year; quantities of duration equal +to days and years would glide unobserved. If the parts of time were not +variously coloured, we should never discern their departure or +succession, but should live thoughtless of the past, and careless of the +future, without will, and perhaps without power, to compute the periods +of life, or to compare the time which is already lost with that which +may probably remain. + +But the course of time is so visibly marked, that it is observed even by +the birds of passage, and by nations who have raised their minds very +little above animal instinct: there are human beings whose language does +not supply them with words by which they can number five, but I have +read of none, that have not names for day and night, for summer and +winter. + +Yet it is certain, that these admonitions of nature, however forcible, +however importunate, are too often vain; and that many who mark with +such accuracy the course of time, appear to have little sensibility of +the decline of life. Every man has something to do which he neglects; +every man has faults to conquer which he delays to combat. + +So little do we accustom ourselves to consider the effects of time, that +things necessary and certain often surprise us like unexpected +contingencies. We leave the beauty in her bloom, and, after an absence +of twenty years, wonder, at our return, to find her faded. We meet those +whom we left children, and can scarcely persuade ourselves to treat them +as men. The traveller visits in age those countries through which he +rambled in his youth, and hopes for merriment at the old place. The man +of business, wearied with unsatisfactory prosperity, retires to the town +of his nativity, and expects to play away the last years with the +companions of his childhood, and recover youth in the fields, where he +once was young. + +From this inattention, so general and so mischievous, let it be every +man's study to exempt himself. Let him that desires to see others happy +make haste to give, while his gift can be enjoyed, and remember that +every moment of delay takes away something from the value of his +benefaction. And let him, who purposes his own happiness, reflect, that +while he forms his purpose the day rolls on, and _the night cometh when +no man can work_. + + + + +No. 44. SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 17, 1759. + +Memory is, among the faculties of the human mind, that of which we make +the most frequent use, or rather that of which the agency is incessant, +or perpetual. Memory is the primary and fundamental power, without which +there could be no other intellectual operation. Judgment and +ratiocination suppose something already known, and draw their decisions +only from experience. Imagination selects ideas from the treasures of +remembrance, and produces novelty only by varied combinations. We do not +even form conjectures of distant, or anticipations of future events, but +by concluding what is possible from what is past. + +The two offices of memory are collection and distribution; by one images +are accumulated, and by the other produced for use. Collection is always +the employment of our first years; and distribution commonly that of our +advanced age. + +To collect and reposite the various forms of things, is far the most +pleasing part of mental occupation. We are naturally delighted with +novelty, and there is a time when all that we see is new. When first we +enter into the world, whithersoever we turn our eyes, they meet +knowledge with pleasure at her side; every diversity of nature pours +ideas in upon the soul; neither search nor labour are necessary; we have +nothing more to do than to open our eyes, and curiosity is gratified. + +Much of the pleasure which the first survey of the world affords, is +exhausted before we are conscious of our own felicity, or able to +compare our condition with some other possible state. We have, +therefore, few traces of the joy of our earliest discoveries; yet we all +remember a time, when nature had so many untasted gratifications, that +every excursion gave delight which, can now be found no longer, when the +noise of a torrent, the rustle of a wood, the song of birds, or the play +of lambs, had power to fill the attention, and suspend all perception of +the course of time. + +But these easy pleasures are soon at an end; we have seen in a very +little time so much, that we call out for new objects of observation, +and endeavour to find variety in books and life. But study is laborious, +and not always satisfactory; and conversation has its pains as well +pleasures; we are willing to learn, but not willing to be taught; we are +pained by ignorance, but pained yet more by another's knowledge. + +From the vexation of pupilage men commonly set themselves free about the +middle of life, by shutting up the avenues of intelligence, and +resolving to rest in their present state; and they, whose ardour of +inquiry continues longer, find themselves insensibly forsaken by their +instructors. As every man advances in life, the proportion between those +that are younger and that are older than himself is continually +changing; and he that has lived half a century finds few that do not +require from him that information which he once expected from those that +went before him. + +Then it is, that the magazines of memory are opened, and the stores of +accumulated knowledge are displayed by vanity or benevolence, or in +honest commerce of mutual interest. Every man wants others, and is, +therefore, glad when he is wanted by them. And as few men will endure +the labour of intense meditation without necessity, he that has learned +enough for his profit or his honour, seldom endeavours after further +acquisitions. + +The pleasure of recollecting speculative notions would not be much less +than that of gaining them, if they could be kept pure and unmingled with +the passages of life; but such is the necessary concatenation of our +thoughts, that good and evil are linked together, and no pleasure recurs +but associated with pain. Every revived idea reminds us of a time when +something was enjoyed that is now lost, when some hope was not yet +blasted, when some purpose had yet not languished into sluggishness or +indifference. + +Whether it be, that life has more vexations than comforts, or, what is +in the event just the same, that evil makes deeper impression than good, +it is certain that few can review the time past without heaviness of +heart. He remembers many calamities incurred by folly, many +opportunities lost by negligence. The shades of the dead rise up before +him; and he laments the companions of his youth, the partners of his +amusements, the assistants of his labours, whom the hand of death has +snatched away. + +When an offer was made to Themistocles of teaching him the art of +memory, he answered, that he would rather wish for the art of +forgetfulness. He felt his imagination haunted by phantoms of misery +which he was unable to suppress, and would gladly have calmed his +thoughts with some _oblivious antidote_. In this we all resemble one +another; the hero and the sage are, like vulgar mortals, overburdened by +the weight of life; all shrink from recollection, and all wish for an +art of forgetfulness[1]. + +[1] Read the sublime story of Sadak in search of the waters of oblivion + the Tales of the Genii. Those who have seen Martin's picture on the + subject, have failed almost to recognise the respective limits of + poetry and of painting. + + + + +No. 45. SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 24, 1759. + +There is in many minds a kind of vanity exerted to the disadvantage of +themselves; a desire to be praised for superior acuteness discovered +only in the degradation of their species, or censure of their country. + +Defamation is sufficiently copious. The general lampooner of mankind may +find long exercise for his zeal or wit, in the defects of nature, the +vexations of life, the follies of opinion, and the corruptions of +practice. But fiction is easier than discernment; and most of these +writers spare themselves the labour of inquiry, and exhaust their +virulence upon imaginary crimes, which, as they never existed, can never +be amended. + +That the painters find no encouragement among the English for many other +works than portraits, has been imputed to national selfishness. 'Tis +vain, says the satirist, to set before, any Englishman the scenes of +landscape, or the heroes of history; nature and antiquity are nothing in +his eye; he has no value but for himself, nor desires any copy but of +his own form. + +Whoever is delighted with his own picture must derive his pleasure from +the pleasure of another. Every man is always present to himself, and +has, therefore, little need of his own resemblance, nor can desire it, +but for the sake of those whom he loves, and by whom he hopes to be +remembered. This use of the art is a natural and reasonable consequence +of affection; and though, like other human actions, it is often +complicated with pride, yet even such pride is more laudable than that +by which palaces are covered with pictures, that, however excellent, +neither imply the owner's virtue, nor excite it. + +Genius is chiefly exerted in historical pictures; and the art of the +painter of portraits is often lost in the obscurity of his subject. But +it is in painting as in life; what is greatest is not always best. I +should grieve to see Reynolds transfer to heroes and to goddesses, to +empty splendour and to airy fiction, that art which is now employed in +diffusing friendship, in reviving tenderness, in quickening the +affections of the absent, and continuing the presence of the dead[1]. + +Yet in a nation great and opulent there is room, and ought to be +patronage, for an art like that of painting through all its diversities; +and it is to be wished, that the reward now offered for an historical +picture may excite an honest emulation, and give beginning to an English +school. + +It is not very easy to find an action or event that can be efficaciously +represented by a painter. + +He must have an action not successive but instantaneous; for the time of +a picture is a single moment. For this reason, the death of Hercules +cannot well be painted, though, at the first view, it flatters the +imagination with very glittering ideas: the gloomy mountain, overhanging +the sea, and covered with trees, some bending to the wind, and some torn +from their roots by the raging hero; the violence with which he rends +from his shoulders the envenomed garment; the propriety with which his +muscular nakedness may be displayed; the death of Lycas whirled from the +promontory; the gigantick presence of Philoctetes; the blaze of the +fatal pile, which the deities behold with grief and terrour from the +sky. + +All these images fill the mind, but will not compose a picture, because +they cannot be united in a single moment[2]. Hercules must have rent his +flesh at one time, and tossed Lycas into the air at another; he must +first tear up the trees, and then lie down upon the pile. + +The action must be circumstantial and distinct. There is a passage in +the Iliad which cannot be read without strong emotions. A Trojan prince, +seized by Achilles in the battle, falls at his feet, and in moving terms +supplicates for life. "How can a wretch like thee," says the haughty +Greek, "intreat to live, when thou knowest that the time must come when +Achilles is to die?" This cannot be painted, because no peculiarity of +attitude or disposition can so supply the place of language as to +impress the sentiment. + +The event painted must be such as excites passion, and different +passions in the several actors, or a tumult of contending passions in +the chief. + +Perhaps the discovery of Ulysses by his nurse is of this kind. The +surprise of the nurse mingled with joy; that of Ulysses checked by +prudence, and clouded by solicitude; and the distinctness of the action +by which the scar is found; all concur to complete the subject. But the +picture, having only two figures, will want variety. + +A much nobler assemblage may be furnished by the death of Epaminondas. +The mixture of gladness and grief in the face of the messenger who +brings his dying general an account of the victory; the various passions +of the attendants; the sublimity of composure in the hero, while the +dart is by his own command drawn from his side, and the faint gleam of +satisfaction that diffuses itself over the languor of death; are worthy +of that pencil which yet I do not wish to see employed upon them. + +If the design were not too multifarious and extensive, I should wish +that our painters would attempt the dissolution of the parliament by +Cromwell[3]. The point of time may be chosen when Cromwell, looking +round the Pandaemonium with contempt, ordered the bauble to be taken +away; and Harrison laid hands on the Speaker to drag him from the chair. + +The various appearances which rage, and terrour, and astonishment, and +guilt, might exhibit in the faces of that hateful assembly, of whom the +principal persons may be faithfully drawn from portraits or prints; the +irresolute repugnance of some, the hypocritical submissions of others, +the ferocious insolence of Cromwell, the rugged brutality of Harrison, +and the general trepidation of fear and wickedness, would, if some +proper disposition could be contrived, make a picture of unexampled +variety, and irresistible instruction. + +[1] Some judicious remarks on portrait painting may be found in + Chalmers' Preface to Idler, Brit. Ess. 33. + + The difference between the French and English schools, in this + department of the Art, well proves that mind has scope for its + powers in portrait, and that genius alone can so generalize the + details "as to identify the individual man with the dignity of his + thinking powers." + +[2] Has that picture, which is considered the finest in the world, the + transfiguration, this requisite? Could any human eye, at one and the + same moment, have beheld the apostles baffled with the stubborn + spirit which they had not faith to quell, and the glories on the + Mount? + +[3] This subject has now been most successfully handled by West. Hall's + exquisite engraving has rendered the picture familiar. + + + + +No. 40. SATURDAY, MARCH 3, 1759. + + _Fugit ad salices, sed, se cupit ante videri_. VIRGIL. + +Mr. Idler, + +I am encouraged, by the notice you have taken of Betty Broom, to +represent the miseries which I suffer from a species of tyranny, which, +I believe, is not very uncommon, though perhaps it may have escaped the +observation of those who converse little with fine ladies, or see them +only in their publick characters. + +To this method of venting my vexation I am the more inclined, because if +I do not complain to you, I must burst in silence; for my mistress has +teased me and teased me till I can hold no longer, and yet I must not +tell her of her tricks. The girls that live in common services can +quarrel, and give warning, and find other places; but we that live with +great ladies, if we once offend them, have, nothing left but to return +into the country. + +I am waiting-maid to a lady who keeps the best company, and is seen at +every place of fashionable resort. I am envied by all the maids in the +square, for few countesses leave off so many clothes as my mistress, and +nobody shares with me: so that I supply two families in the country with +finery for the assizes and horse-races, besides what I wear myself. The +steward and housekeeper have joined against me to procure my removal, +that they may advance a relation of their own; but their designs are +found out by my lady, who says I need not fear them, for she will never +have dowdies about her. + +You would think, Mr. Idler, like others, that I am very happy, and may +well be contented with my lot. But I will tell you. My lady has an odd +humour. She never orders any thing in direct words, for she loves a +sharp girl that can take a hint. + +I would not have you suspect that she has any thing to hint which she is +ashamed to speak at length; for none can have greater purity of +sentiment, or rectitude of intention. She has nothing to hide, yet +nothing will she tell. She always gives her directions obliquely and +allusively, by the mention of something relative or consequential, +without any other purpose than to exercise my acuteness and her own. + +It is impossible to give a notion of this style otherwise than by +examples. One night, when she had sat writing letters till it was time +to be dressed, _Molly_, said she, _the Ladies are all to be at Court +to-night in white aprons_. When she means that I should send to order the +chair, she says, _I think the streets are clean, I may venture to walk_. +When she would have something put into its place, she bids me _lay it on +the floor_. If she would have me snuff the candles, she asks _whether I +think her eyes are like a cat's_? If she thinks her chocolate delayed, +she talks of _the benefit of abstinence_. If any needle-work is +forgotten, she supposes _that I have heard of the lady who died by +pricking her finger_. + +She always imagines that I can recall every thing past from a single +word. If she wants her head from the milliner, she only says, _Molly, +you know Mrs. Tape_. If she would have the mantua-maker sent for, she +remarks _that Mr. Taffety, the mercer, was here last week_. She ordered, +a fortnight ago, that the first time she was abroad all day I should +choose her a new set of coffee-cups at the china-shop: of this she +reminded me yesterday, as she was going down stairs, by saying, _You +can't find your way now to Pall-mall_. + +All this would never vex me, if, by increasing my trouble, she spared +her own; but, dear Mr. Idler, is it not as easy to say _coffee-cups_, as +_Pall-mall_? and to tell me in plain words what I am to do, and when it +is to be done, as to torment her own head with the labour of finding +hints, and mine with that of understanding them? + +When first I came to this lady, I had nothing like the learning that I +have now; for she has many books, and I have much time to read; so that +of late I seldom have missed her meaning: but when she first took me I +was an ignorant girl; and she, who, as is very common, confounded want +of knowledge with want of understanding, began once to despair of +bringing me to any thing, because, when I came into her chamber at the +call of her bell, she asked me, _Whether we lived in Zembla_; and I did +not guess the meaning of her inquiry, but modestly answered, that _I +could not tell_. She had happened to ring once when I did not hear her, +and meant to put me in mind of that country where sounds are said to be +congealed by the frost. + +Another time, as I was dressing her head, she began to talk on a sudden +of _Medusa_, and _snakes_, and _men turned into stone, and maids that, +if they were not watched, would let their mistresses be Gorgons_. I +looked round me half frightened, and quite bewildered; till at last, +finding that her literature was thrown away upon me, she bid me with +great vehemence, reach the curling-irons. + +It is not without some indignation, Mr. Idler, that I discover, in these +artifices of vexation, something worse than foppery or caprice; a mean +delight in superiority, which knows itself in no danger of reproof or +opposition; a cruel pleasure in seeing the perplexity of a mind obliged +to find what is studiously concealed, and a mean indulgence of petty +malevolence, in the sharp censure of involuntary, and very often of +inevitable, failings. When, beyond her expectation, I hit upon her +meaning, I can perceive a sudden cloud of disappointment spread over her +face; and have sometimes been afraid, lest I should lose her favour by +understanding her when she means to puzzle me. + +This day, however, she has conquered my sagacity. When she went out of +her dressing-room, she said nothing, but, _Molly, you know_, and +hastened to her chariot. What I am to know is yet a secret; but if I do +not know before she comes back, what I yet have no means of discovering, +she will make my dullness a pretence for a fortnight's ill humour, treat +me as a creature devoid of the faculties necessary to the common duties +of life, and perhaps give the next gown to the housekeeper. + +I am, Sir, + +Your humble servant, + +MOLLY QUICK. + + + + +No. 47. SATURDAY, MARCH 10, 1759. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Mr. Idler, + +I am the unfortunate wife of a city wit, and cannot but think that my +case may deserve equal compassion with any of those which have been +represented in your paper. + +I married my husband within three months after the expiration of his +apprenticeship; we put our money together, and furnished a large and +splendid shop, in which he was for five years and a half diligent and +civil. The notice which curiosity or kindness commonly bestows on +beginners, was continued by confidence and esteem; one customer, pleased +with his treatment and his bargain, recommended another; and we were +busy behind the counter from morning to night. + +Thus every day increased our wealth and our reputation. My husband was +often invited to dinner openly on the Exchange by hundred thousand +pounds men; and whenever I went to any of the halls, the wives of the +aldermen made me low courtesies. We always took up our notes before the +day, and made all considerable payments by draughts upon our banker. + +You will easily believe that I was well enough pleased with my +condition; for what happiness can be greater than that of growing every +day richer and richer? I will not deny, that, imagining myself likely to +be in a short time the sheriff's lady, I broke off my acquaintance with +some of my neighbours; and advised my husband to keep good company, and +not to be seen with men that were worth nothing. + +In time he found that ale disagreed with his constitution, and went +every night to drink his pint at a tavern, where he met with a set of +criticks, who disputed upon the merit of the different theatrical +performers. By these idle fellows he was taken to the play, which at +first he did not seem much to heed; for he owned, that he very seldom +knew what they were doing, and that, while his companions would let him +alone, he was commonly thinking on his last bargain. + +Having once gone, however, he went again and again, though I often told +him that three shillings were thrown away: at last he grew uneasy if he +missed a night, and importuned me to go with him. I went to a tragedy, +which they called Macbeth; and, when I came home, told him, that I could +not bear to see men and women make themselves such fools, by pretending +to be witches and ghosts, generals and kings, and to walk in their sleep +when they were as much awake, as those that looked at them. He told me +that I must get higher notions, and that a play was the most rational of +all entertainments, and most proper to relax the mind after the business +of the day. + +By degrees he gained knowledge of some of the players: and, when the +play was over, very frequently treated them with suppers; for which he +was admitted to stand behind the scenes. + +He soon began to lose some of his morning hours in the same folly, and +was for one winter very diligent in his attendance on the rehearsals; +but of this species of idleness he grew weary, and said, that the play +was nothing without the company. + +His ardour for the diversion of the evening increased; he bought a +sword, and paid five shillings a night to sit in the boxes; he went +sometimes into a place which he calls the green-room, where all the wits +of the age assemble and, when he had been there, could do nothing, for +two or three days, but repeat their jests, or tell their disputes. + +He has now lost his regard for every thing but the playhouse; he +invites, three times a week, one or other to drink claret, and talk of +the drama. His first care in the morning is to read the play-bills; and, +if he remembers any lines of the tragedy which is to be represented, +walks about the shop, repeating them so loud, and with such strange +gestures, that the passengers gather round the door. + +His greatest pleasure, when I married him, was to hear the situation of +his shop commended, and to be told how many estates have been got in it +by the same trade; but of late he grows peevish at any mention of +business, and delights in nothing so much as to be told that he speaks +like Mossop. + +Among his new associates he has learned another language, and speaks in +such a strain that his neighbours cannot understand him. If a customer +talks longer than he is willing to hear, he will complain that he has +been excruciated with unmeaning verbosity; he laughs at the letters of +his friends for their tameness of expression, and often declares himself +weary of attending to the minutiæ of a shop. + +It is well for me that I know how to keep a book, for of late he is +scarcely ever in the way. Since one of his friends told him that he had +a genius for tragick poetry, he has locked himself in an upper room six +or seven hours a day; and, when I carry him any paper to be read or +signed, I hear him talking vehemently to himself, sometimes of love and +beauty, sometimes of friendship and virtue, but more frequently of +liberty and his country. + +I would gladly, Mr. Idler, be informed what to think of a shopkeeper, +who is incessantly talking about liberty; a word, which, since his +acquaintance with polite life, my husband has always in his mouth: he +is, on all occasions, afraid of our liberty, and declares his resolution +to hazard all for liberty. What can the man mean? I am sure he has +liberty enough; it were better for him and me if his liberty was +lessened. + +He has a friend, whom he calls a critick, that comes twice a week to +read what he is writing. This critick tells him that his piece is a +little irregular, but that some detached scenes will shine prodigiously, +and that in the character of Bombulus he is wonderfully great. My +scribbler then squeezes his hand, calls him the best of friends, thanks +him for his sincerity, and tells him that he hates to be flattered. I +have reason to believe that he seldom parts with his dear friend without +lending him two guineas, and am afraid that he gave bail for him three +days ago. + +By this course of life our credit as traders is lessened; and I cannot +forbear to suspect, that my husband's honour as a wit is not much +advanced, for he seems to be always the lowest of the company, and is +afraid to tell his opinion till the rest have spoken. When he was behind +his counter, he used to be brisk, active, and jocular, like a man that +knew what he was doing, and did not fear to look another in the face; +but among wits and criticks he is timorous and awkward, and hangs down +his head at his own table. Dear Mr. Idler, persuade him, if you can, to +return once more to his native element. Tell him, that wit will never +make him rich, but that there are places where riches will always make a +wit. + +I am, Sir, &c. + +DEBORAH GINGER. + + + + +No. 48. SATURDAY, MARCH 17, 1759. + +There is no kind of idleness, by which we are so easily seduced, as that +which dignifies itself by the appearance of business; and, by making the +loiterer imagine that he has something to do which must not be +neglected, keeps him in perpetual agitation, and hurries him rapidly +from place to place. + +He that sits still, or reposes himself upon a couch, no more deceives +himself than he deceives others; he knows that he is doing nothing, and +has no other solace of his insignificance than the resolution, which the +lazy hourly make, of changing his mode of life. + +To do nothing every man is ashamed; and to do much almost every man is +unwilling or afraid. Innumerable expedients have, therefore, been +invented to produce motion without labour, and employment without +solicitude. The greater part of those, whom the kindness of fortune has +left to their own direction, and whom want does not keep chained to the +counter or the plough, play throughout life with the shadows of +business, and know not at last what they have been doing. + +These imitators of action are of all denominations. Some are seen at +every auction without intention to purchase; others appear punctually at +the Exchange, though they are known there only by their faces: some are +always making parties to visit collections for which they have no taste; +and some neglect every pleasure and every duty to hear questions, in +which they have no interest, debated in parliament. + +These men never appear more ridiculous than in the distress which they +imagine themselves to feel from some accidental interruption of those +empty pursuits. A tiger newly imprisoned is indeed more formidable, but +not more angry, than Jack Tulip, withheld from a florist's feast, or Tom +Distich, hindered from seeing the first representation of a play. + +As political affairs are the highest and most extensive of temporal +concerns, the mimick of a politician is more busy and important than any +other trifler. Monsieur le Noir, a man who, without property or +importance in any corner of the earth, has, in the present confusion of +the world, declared himself a steady adherent to the French, is made +miserable by a wind that keeps back the packet-boat, and still more +miserable by every account of a Malouin privateer caught in his cruise; +he knows well that nothing can be done or said by him which can produce +any effect but that of laughter, that he can neither hasten nor retard +good or evil, that his joys and sorrows have scarcely any partakers; yet +such is his zeal, and such his curiosity, that he would run barefooted +to Gravesend, for the sake of knowing first that the English had lost a +tender, and would ride out to meet every mail from the continent, if he +might be permitted to open it. + +Learning is generally confessed to be desirable, and there are some who +fancy themselves always busy in acquiring it. Of these ambulatory +students, one of the most busy is my friend Tom Restless. + +Tom has long had a mind to be a man of knowledge, but he does not care +to spend much time among authors; for he is of opinion that few books +deserve the labour of perusal, that they give the mind an unfashionable +cast, and destroy that freedom of thought, and easiness of manners, +indispensably requisite to acceptance in the world. Tom has, therefore, +found another way to wisdom. When he rises he goes into a coffee-house, +where he creeps so near to men whom he takes to be reasoners, as to hear +their discourse, and endeavours to remember something which, when it has +been strained through Tom's head, is so near to nothing, that what it +once was cannot be discovered. This he carries round from friend to +friend through a circle of visits, till, hearing what each says upon the +question, he becomes able at dinner to say a little himself; and, as +every great genius relaxes himself among his inferiors, meets with some +who wonder how so young a man can talk so wisely. + +At night he has a new feast prepared for his intellects; he always runs +to a disputing society, or a speaking club, where he half hears what, if +he had heard the whole, be would but half understand; goes home pleased +with the consciousness of a day well spent, lies down full of ideas, and +rises in the morning empty as before. + + + + +No. 49. SATURDAY, MARCH 24, 1759. + +I supped three nights ago with my friend Will Marvel. His affairs +obliged him lately to take a journey into Devonshire, from which he has +just returned. He knows me to be a very patient hearer, and was glad of +my company, as it gave him an opportunity of disburdening himself, by a +minute relation of the casualties of his expedition. + +Will is not one of those who go out and return with nothing to tell. He +has a story of his travels, which will strike a home-bred citizen with +horrour, and has in ten days suffered so often the extremes of terrour +and joy, that he is in doubt whether he shall ever again expose either +his body or mind to such danger and fatigue. + +When he left London the morning was bright, and a fair day was promised. +But Will is born to struggle with difficulties. That happened to him, +which has sometimes, perhaps, happened to others. Before he had gone +more than ten miles, it began to rain. What course was to be taken? His +soul disdained to turn back. He did what the King of Prussia might have +done; he flapped his hat, buttoned up his cape, and went forwards, +fortifying his mind by the stoical consolation, that whatever is violent +will be short. + +His constancy was not long tried; at the distance of about half a mile +he saw an inn, which he entered wet and weary, and found civil treatment +and proper refreshment. After a respite of about two hours, he looked +abroad, and seeing the sky clear, called for his horse, and passed the +first stage without any other memorable accident. + +Will considered, that labour must be relieved by pleasure, and that the +strength which great undertakings require must be maintained by copious +nutriment; he, therefore, ordered himself an elegant supper, drank two +bottles of claret, and passed the beginning of the night in sound sleep; +but, waking before light, was forewarned of the troubles of the next +day, by a shower beating against his windows with such violence, as to +threaten the dissolution of nature. When he arose, he found what he +expected, that the country was under water. He joined himself, however, +to a company that was travelling the same way, and came safely to the +place of dinner, though every step of his horse dashed the mud into the +air. + +In the afternoon, having parted from his company, he set forward alone, +and passed many collections of water, of which it was impossible to +guess the depth, and which he now cannot review without some censure of +his own rashness; but what a man undertakes he must perform, and Marvel +hates a coward at his heart. + +Few that lie warm in their beds think what others undergo, who have, +perhaps, been as tenderly educated, and have as acute sensations as +themselves. My friend was now to lodge the second night almost fifty +miles from home, in a house which he never had seen before, among people +to whom he was totally a stranger, not knowing whether the next man he +should meet would prove good or bad; but seeing an inn of a good +appearance, he rode resolutely into the yard; and knowing that respect +is often paid in proportion as it is claimed, delivered his injunctions +to the ostler with spirit, and entering the house, called vigorously +about him. + +On the third day up rose the sun and Mr. Marvel. His troubles and his +dangers were now such as he wishes no other man ever to encounter. The +ways were less frequented, and the country more thinly inhabited. He +rode many a lonely hour through mire and water, and met not a single +soul for two miles together, with whom he could exchange a word. He +cannot deny that, looking round upon the dreary region, and seeing +nothing but bleak fields and naked trees, hills obscured by fogs, and +flats covered with inundations, he did, for some time, suffer melancholy +to prevail upon him, and wished himself again safe at home. One comfort +he had, which was, to consider that none of his friends were in the same +distress, for whom, if they had been with him, he should have suffered +more than for himself; he could not forbear sometimes to consider how +happily the Idler is settled in an easier condition, who, surrounded +like him with terrours, could have done nothing but lie down and die. + +Amidst these reflections he came to a town, and found a dinner which +disposed him to more cheerful sentiments: but the joys of life are +short, and its miseries are long; he mounted and travelled fifteen miles +more through dirt and desolation. + +At last the sun set, and all the horrours of darkness came upon him. He +then repented the weak indulgence in which he had gratified himself at +noon with too long an interval of rest: yet he went forward along a path +which he could no longer see, sometimes rushing suddenly into water, and +sometimes incumbered with stiff clay, ignorant whither he was going, and +uncertain whether his next step might not be the last. + +In this dismal gloom of nocturnal peregrination his horse unexpectedly +stood still. Marvel had heard many relations of the instinct of horses, +and was in doubt what danger might be at hand. Sometimes he fancied that +he was on the bank of a river still and deep, and sometimes that a dead +body lay across the track. He sat still awhile to recollect his +thoughts; and as he was about to alight and explore the darkness, out +stepped a man with a lantern, and opened the turnpike. He hired a guide +to the town, arrived in safety, and slept in quiet. + +The rest of his journey was nothing but danger. He climbed and descended +precipices on which vulgar mortals tremble to look; he passed marshes +like the _Serbonian bog, where armies whole have sunk_; he forded rivers +where the current roared like the Egre or the Severn; or ventured +himself on bridges that trembled under him, from which he looked down on +foaming whirlpools, or dreadful abysses; he wandered over houseless +heaths, amidst all the rage of the elements, with the snow driving in +his face, and the tempest howling in his ears. + +Such are the colours in which Marvel paints his adventures. He has +accustomed himself to sounding words and hyperbolical images, till he +has lost the power of true description. In a road, through which the +heaviest carriages pass without difficulty, and the post-boy every day +and night goes and returns, he meets with hardships like those which are +endured in Siberian deserts, and misses nothing of romantick danger but +a giant and a dragon. When his dreadful story is told in proper terms, +it is only that the way was dirty in winter, and that he experienced the +common vicissitudes of rain and sunshine. + + + + +No. 50. SATURDAY, MARCH 31, 1759. + +The character of Mr. Marvel has raised the merriment of some and the +contempt of others, who do not sufficiently consider how often they hear +and practise the same arts of exaggerated narration. + +There is not, perhaps, among the multitudes of all conditions that swarm +upon the earth, a single man who does not believe that he has something +extraordinary to relate of himself; and who does not, at one time or +other, summon the attention of his friends to the casualties of his +adventures and the vicissitudes of his fortune; casualties and +vicissitudes that happen alike in lives uniform and diversified; to the +commander of armies and the writer at a desk; to the sailor who resigns +himself to the wind and water, and the farmer whose longest journey is +to the market. + +In the present state of the world man may pass through Shakespeare's +seven stages of life, and meet nothing singular or wonderful. But such +is every man's attention to himself, that what is common and unheeded, +when it is only seen, becomes remarkable and peculiar when we happen to +feel it. + +It is well enough known to be according to the usual process of nature, +that men should sicken and recover, that some designs should succeed and +others miscarry, that friends should be separated and meet again, that +some should be made angry by endeavours to please them, and some be +pleased when no care has been used to gain their approbation; that men +and women should at first come together by chance, like each other so +well as to commence acquaintance, improve acquaintance into fondness, +increase or extinguish fondness by marriage, and have children of +different degrees of intellects and virtue, some of whom die before +their parents, and others survive them. + +Yet let any man tell his own story, and nothing of all this has ever +befallen him according to the common order of things; something has +always discriminated his case; some unusual concurrence of events has +appeared, which made him more happy or more miserable than other +mortals; for in pleasures or calamities, however common, every one has +comforts and afflictions of his own. + +It is certain that without some artificial augmentations, many of the +pleasures of life, and almost all its embellishments, would fall to the +ground. If no man was to express more delight than he felt, those who +felt most would raise little envy. If travellers were to describe the +most laboured performances of art with the same coldness as they survey +them, all expectations of happiness from change of place would cease. +The pictures of Raphaël would hang without spectators, and the gardens +of Versailles might be inhabited by hermits. All the pleasure that is +received ends in an opportunity of splendid falsehood, in the power of +gaining notice by the display of beauties which the eye was weary of +beholding, and a history of happy moments, of which, in reality, the +most happy was the last. + +The ambition of superior sensibility and superior eloquence disposes the +lovers of arts to receive rapture at one time, and communicate it at +another; and each labours first to impose upon himself, and then to +propagate the imposture. + +Pain is less subject than pleasure to caprices of expression. The +torments of disease, and the grief for irremediable misfortunes, +sometimes are such as no words can declare, and can only be signified by +groans, or sobs, or inarticulate ejaculations. Man has from nature a +mode of utterance peculiar to pain, but he has none peculiar to +pleasure, because he never has pleasure but in such degrees as the +ordinary use of language may equal or surpass. + +It is nevertheless certain, that many pains, as well as pleasures, are +heightened by rhetorical affectation, and that the picture is, for the +most part, bigger than the life. + +When we describe our sensations of another's sorrows, either in friendly +or ceremonious condolence, the customs of the world scarcely admit of +rigid veracity. Perhaps, the fondest friendship would enrage oftener +than comfort, were the tongue on such occasions faithfully to represent +the sentiments of the heart; and I think the strictest moralists allow +forms of address to be used without much regard to their literal +acceptation, when either respect or tenderness requires them, because +they are universally known to denote not the degree but the species of +our sentiments. + +But the same indulgence cannot be allowed to him who aggravates dangers +incurred, or sorrow endured, by himself, because he darkens the prospect +of futurity, and multiplies the pains of our condition by useless +terrour. Those who magnify their delights are less criminal deceivers, +yet they raise hopes which are sure to be disappointed. It would be +undoubtedly best, if we could see and hear every thing as it is, that +nothing might be too anxiously dreaded, or too ardently pursued. + + + + +No. 51. SATURDAY, APRIL 7, 1759. + +It has been commonly remarked, that eminent men are least eminent at +home, that bright characters lose much of their splendour at a nearer +view, and many, who fill the world with their fame, excite very little +reverence among those that surround them in their domestick privacies. + +To blame or suspect is easy and natural. When the fact is evident, and +the cause doubtful, some accusation is always engendered between +idleness and malignity. This disparity of general and familiar esteem +is, therefore, imputed to hidden vices, and to practices indulged in +secret, but carefully covered from the publick eye. + +Vice will indeed always produce contempt. The dignity of Alexander, +though nations fell prostrate before him, was certainly held in little +veneration by the partakers of his midnight revels, who had seen him, in +the madness of wine, murder his friend, or set fire to the Persian +palace at the instigation of a harlot; and it is well remembered among +us, that the avarice of Marlborough kept him in subjection to his wife, +while he was dreaded by France as her conqueror, and honoured by the +emperour as his deliverer. + +But though, where there is vice there must be want of reverence, it is +not reciprocally true, that where there is want of reverence there is +always vice. That awe which great actions or abilities impress will be +inevitably diminished by acquaintance, though nothing either mean or +criminal should be found. + +Of men, as of every thing else, we must judge according to our +knowledge. When we see of a hero only his battles, or of a writer only +his books, we have nothing to allay our ideas of their greatness. We +consider the one only as the guardian of his country, and the other only +as the instructor of mankind. We have neither opportunity nor motive to +examine the minuter parts of their lives, or the less apparent +peculiarities of their characters; we name them with habitual respect, +and forget, what we still continue to know, that they are men like other +mortals. + +But such is the constitution of the world, that much of life must be +spent in the same manner by the wise and the ignorant, the exalted and +the low. Men, however distinguished by external accidents or intrinsick +qualities, have all the same wants, the same pains, and, as far as the +senses are consulted, the same pleasures. The petty cares and petty +duties are the same in every station to every understanding, and every +hour brings some occasion on which we all sink to the common level. We +are all naked till we are dressed, and hungry till we are fed; and the +general's triumph, and sage's disputation, end, like the humble labours +of the smith or ploughman, in a dinner or in sleep. + +Those notions which are to be collected by reason, in opposition to the +senses, will seldom stand forward in the mind, but lie treasured in the +remoter repositories of memory, to be found only when they are sought. +Whatever any man may have written or done, his precepts or his valour +will scarcely overbalance the unimportant uniformity which runs through +his time. We do not easily consider him as great, whom our own eyes show +us to be little; nor labour to keep present to our thoughts the latent +excellencies of him, who shares with us all our weaknesses and many of +our follies; who, like us, is delighted with slight amusements, busied +with trifling employments, and disturbed by little vexations. + +Great powers cannot be exerted, but when great exigencies make them +necessary. Great exigencies can happen but seldom, and, therefore, those +qualities which have a claim to the veneration of mankind, lie hid, for +the most part, like subterranean treasures, over which the foot passes +as on common ground, till necessity breaks open the golden cavern. + +In the ancient celebration of victory, a slave was placed on the +triumphal car, by the side of the general, who reminded him by a short +sentence, that he was a man[1]. Whatever danger there might be lest a +leader, in his passage to the capitol, should forget the frailties of +his nature, there was surely no need of such an admonition; the +intoxication could not have continued long; he would have been at home +but a few hours, before some of his dependants would have forgot his +greatness, and shown him, that, notwithstanding his laurels, he was yet +a man. + +There are some who try to escape this domestick degradation, by +labouring to appear always wise or always great; but he that strives +against nature, will for ever strive in vain. To be grave of mien and +slow of utterrance; to look with solicitude and speak with hesitation, +is attainable at will; but the show of wisdom is ridiculous when there +is nothing to cause doubt, as that of valour where there is nothing to +be feared. + +A man who has duly considered the condition of his being, will +contentedly yield to the course of things; he will not pant for +distinction where distinction would imply no merit; but though on great +occasions he may wish to be greater than others, he will be satisfied in +common occurrences not to be less. + +[1] + --Sibi Consul + Ne placeat, curru servus portatur eodem. JUV. Sat. x. 41. + + + +No 52. SATURDAY, APRIL 14, 1759. + + _Responsare cupidinibus_.--HOR. Lib. ii. Sat. vii. 85. + +The practice of self-denial, or the forbearance of lawful pleasure, has +been considered by almost every nation, from the remotest ages, as the +highest exaltation of human virtue; and all have agreed to pay respect +and veneration to those who abstained from the delights of life, even +when they did not censure those who enjoy them. + +The general voice of mankind, civil and barbarous, confesses that the +mind and body are at variance, and that neither can be made happy by its +proper gratifications, but at the expense of the other; that a pampered +body will darken the mind, and an enlightened mind will macerate the +body. And none have failed to confer their esteem on those who prefer +intellect to sense, who control their lower by their higher faculties, +and forget the wants and desires of animal life for rational +disquisitions or pious contemplations. + +The earth has scarcely a country, so far advanced towards political +regularity as to divide the inhabitants into classes, where some orders +of men or women are not distinguished by voluntary severities, and where +the reputation of their sanctity is not increased in proportion to the +rigour of their rules, and the exactness of their performance. + +When an opinion to which there is no temptation of interest spreads +wide, and continues long, it may be reasonably presumed to have been +infused by nature or dictated by reason. It has been often observed that +the fictions of impostures and illusions of fancy, soon give way to time +and experience; and that nothing keeps its ground but truth, which gains +every day new influence by new confirmation. + +But truth, when it is reduced to practice, easily becomes subject to +caprice and imagination; and many particular acts will be wrong, though +their general principle be right. It cannot be denied that a just +conviction of the restraint necessary to be laid upon the appetites has +produced extravagant and unnatural modes of mortification, and +institutions, which, however favourably considered, will be found to +violate nature without promoting piety[1]. + +But the doctrine of self-denial is not weakened in itself by the errours +of those who misinterpret or misapply it; the encroachment of the +appetites upon the understanding is hourly perceived; and the state of +those, whom sensuality has enslaved, is known to be in the highest +degree despicable and wretched. + +The dread of such shameful captivity may justly raise alarms, and wisdom +will endeavour to keep danger at a distance. By timely caution and +suspicious vigilance those desires may be repressed, to which indulgence +would soon give absolute dominion; those enemies may be overcome, which, +when they have been a while accustomed to victory, can no longer be +resisted. + +Nothing is more fatal to happiness or virtue, than that confidence which +flatters us with an opinion of our own strength, and, by assuring us of +the power of retreat, precipitates us into hazard. Some may safely +venture farther than others into the regions of delight, lay themselves +more open to the golden shafts of pleasure, and advance nearer to the +residence of the Syrens; but he that is best armed with constancy and +reason is yet vulnerable in one part or other, and to every man there is +a point fixed, beyond which, if he passes, he will not easily return. It +is certainly most wise, as it is most safe, to stop before he touches +the utmost limit, since every step of advance will more and more entice +him to go forward, till he shall at last enter into the recesses of +voluptuousness, and sloth and despondency close the passage behind him. + +To deny early and inflexibly, is the only art of checking the +importunity of desire, and of preserving quiet and innocence. Innocent +gratifications must be sometimes withheld; he that complies with all +lawful desires will certainly lose his empire over himself, and, in +time, either submit his reason to his wishes, and think all his desires +lawful, or dismiss his reason as troublesome and intrusive, and resolve +to snatch what he may happen to wish, without inquiring about right and +wrong. + +No man, whose appetites are his masters, can perform the duties of his +nature with strictness and regularity; he that would be superior to +external influences must first become superior to his own passions. + +When the Roman general, sitting at supper with a plate of turnips before +him, was solicited by large presents to betray his trust, he asked the +messengers whether he that could sup on turnips was a man likely to sell +his own country. Upon him who has reduced his senses to obedience, +temptation has lost its power; he is able to attend impartially to +virtue, and execute her commands without hesitation. + +To set the mind above the appetites is the end of abstinence, which one +of the Fathers observes to be not a virtue, but the ground-work of +virtue. By forbearing to do what may innocently be done, we may add +hourly new vigour to resolution, and secure the power of resistance when +pleasure or interest shall lend their charms to guilt. + +[1] See Rambler 110 and Note. Read also the splendid passage on monastic + seclusion in Adventurer 127. The recluses of the Certosa and + Chartreuse forsook the world for abodes lordly as those of princes. + + + + +No. 53. SATURDAY, APRIL 21, 1759. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Sir, + +I have a wife that keeps good company. You know that the word _good_ +varies its meaning according to the value set upon different qualities +in different places. To be a good man in a college, is to be learned; in +a camp, to be brave; and in the city, to be rich. By good company in the +place which I have the misfortune to inhabit, we understand not only +those from whom any good can be learned, whether wisdom or virtue; or by +whom any good can be conferred, whether profit or reputation:--good +company is the company of those whose birth is high, and whose riches +are great; or of those whom the rich and noble admit to familiarity. + +I am a gentleman of a fortune by no means exuberant, but more than equal +to the wants of my family, and for some years equal to our desires. My +wife, who had never been accustomed to splendour, joined her endeavours +to mine in the superintendence of our economy; we lived in decent +plenty, and were not excluded from moderate pleasures. + +But slight causes produce great effects. All my happiness has been +destroyed by change of place: virtue is too often merely local; in some +situations the air diseases the body, and in others poisons the mind. +Being obliged to remove my habitation, I was led by my evil genius to a +convenient house in a street where many of the nobility reside. We had +scarcely ranged our furniture, and aired our rooms, when my wife began +to grow discontented, and to wonder what the neighbours would think, +when they saw so few chairs and chariots at her door. + +Her acquaintance, who came to see her from the quarter that we had left, +mortified her without design, by continual inquiries about the ladies +whose houses they viewed from our windows. She was ashamed to confess +that she had no intercourse with them, and sheltered her distress under +general answers, which always tended to raise suspicion that she knew +more than she would tell; but she was often reduced to difficulties, +when the course of talk introduced questions about the furniture or +ornaments of their houses, which, when she could get no intelligence, +she was forced to pass slightly over, as things which she saw so often +that she never minded them. + +To all these vexations she was resolved to put an end, and redoubled her +visits to those few of her friends who visited those who kept good +company; and, if ever she met a lady of quality, forced herself into +notice by respect and assiduity. Her advances were generally rejected; +and she heard them, as they went down stairs, talk how some creatures +put themselves forward. + +She was not discouraged, but crept forward from one to another; and, as +perseverance will do great things, sapped her way unperceived, till, +unexpectedly, she appeared at the card-table of lady Biddy Porpoise, a +lethargick virgin of seventy-six, whom all the families in the next +square visited very punctually when she was not at home. + +This was the first step of that elevation to which my wife has since +ascended. For five months she had no name in her mouth but that of lady +Biddy, who, let the world say what it would, had a fine understanding, +and such a command of her temper, that, whether she won or lost, she +slept over her cards. + +At lady Biddy's she met with lady Tawdry, whose favour she gained by +estimating her ear-rings, which were counterfeit, at twice the value of +real diamonds. When she had once entered two houses of distinction, she +was easily admitted into more, and in ten weeks had all her time +anticipated by parties and engagements. Every morning she is bespoke, in +the summer, for the gardens, in the winter, for a sale; every afternoon +she has visits to pay, and every night brings an inviolable appointment, +or an assembly in which the best company in the town are to appear. + +You will easily imagine that much of my domestick comfort is withdrawn. +I never see my wife but in the hurry of preparation, or the languor of +weariness. To dress and to undress is almost her whole business in +private, and the servants take advantage of her negligence to increase +expense. But I can supply her omissions by my own diligence, and should +not much regret this new course of life, if it did nothing more than +transfer to me the care of our accounts. The changes which it has made +are more vexatious. My wife has no longer the use of her understanding. +She has no rule of action but the fashion. She has no opinion but that +of the people of quality. She has no language but the dialect of her own +set of company. She hates and admires in humble imitation; and echoes +the words _charming_ and _detestable_ without consulting her own +perceptions. + +If for a few minutes we sit down together, she entertains me with the +repartees of lady Cackle, or the conversation of lord Whiffler and Miss +Quick, and wonders to find me receiving with indifference sayings which +put all the company into laughter. + +By her old friends she is no longer very willing to be seen, but she +must not rid herself of them all at once; and is sometimes surprised by +her best visitants in company which she would not show, and cannot hide; +but from the moment that a countess enters, she takes care neither to +hear nor see them: they soon find themselves neglected, and retire; and +she tells her ladyship that they are somehow related at a great +distance, and that, as they are a good sort of people, she cannot be +rude to them. + +As by this ambitious union with those that are above her, she is always +forced upon disadvantageous comparisons of her condition with theirs, +she has a constant source of misery within; and never returns from +glittering assemblies and magnificent apartments but she growls out her +discontent, and wonders why she was doomed to so indigent a state. When +she attends the duchess to a sale, she always sees something that she +cannot buy; and, that she may not seem wholly insignificant, she will +sometimes venture to bid, and often make acquisitions which she did not +want at prices which she cannot afford. + +What adds to all this uneasiness is, that this expense is without use, +and this vanity without honour; she forsakes houses where she might be +courted, for those where she is only suffered; her equals are daily made +her enemies, and her superiors will never be her friends. + +I am, Sir, yours, &c. + + + + +No. 54. SATURDAY, APRIL 28, 1759. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Sir, + +You have lately entertained your admirers with the case of an +unfortunate husband, and, thereby, given a demonstrative proof you are +not averse even to hear appeals and terminate differences between man +and wife; I, therefore, take the liberty to present you with the case of +an injured lady, which, as it chiefly relates to what I think the +lawyers call a point of law, I shall do in as juridical a manner as I am +capable, and submit it to the consideration of the learned gentlemen of +that profession. + +_Imprimis_. In the style of my marriage articles, a marriage was _had +and solemnized_ about six months ago, between me and Mr. Savecharges, a +gentleman possessed of a plentiful fortune of his own, and one who, I +was persuaded, would improve, and not spend, mine. + +Before our marriage, Mr. Savecharges had all along preferred the +salutary exercise of walking on foot to the distempered ease, as he +terms it, of lolling in a chariot; but, notwithstanding his fine +panegyricks on walking, the great advantages the infantry were in the +sole possession of, and the many dreadful dangers they escaped, he found +I had very different notions of an equipage, and was not easily to be +converted, or gained over to his party. + +An equipage I was determined to have, whenever I married. I too well +knew the disposition of my intended consort to leave the providing one +entirely to his honour, and flatter myself Mr. Savecharges has, in the +articles made previous to our marriage, _agreed to keep me a coach_; but +lest I should be mistaken, or the attorneys should not have done me +justice in methodizing or legalizing these half dozen words, I will set +about and transcribe that part of the agreement, which will explain the +matter to you much better than can be done by one who is so deeply +interested in the event; and show on what foundation I build my hopes of +being soon under the transporting, delightful denomination of a +fashionable lady, who enjoys the exalted and much-envied felicity of +bowling about in her own coach. + +"And further the said Solomon Savecharges, for divers good causes and +considerations him hereunto moving, hath agreed, and doth hereby agree, +that the said Solomon Savecharges shall and will, so soon as +conveniently may be after the solemnization of the said intended +marriage, at his own proper cost and charges, find and provide a +_certain vehicle, or four-wheel-carriage, commonly called or known by +the name of a coach_; which said vehicle, or wheel-carriage, so called +or known by the name of a coach, shall be _used and enjoyed_ by the said +Sukey Modish, his intended wife," [pray mind that, Mr. Idler,] "at such +times and in such manner as she, the said Sukey Modish, shall think fit +and convenient." + +Such, Mr. Idler, is the agreement my passionate admirer entered into; +and what the dear, frugal husband calls a performance of it, remains to +be described. Soon after the ceremony of signing and sealing was over, +our wedding-clothes being sent home, and, in short, every thing in +readiness except the coach, my own shadow was scarcely more constant +than my passionate lover in his attendance on me: wearied by his +perpetual importunities for what he called a completion of his bliss, I +consented to make him happy; in a few days I gave him my hand, and, +attended by Hymen in his saffron robes, retired to a country-seat of my +husband's, where the honey-moon flew over our heads ere we had time to +recollect ourselves, or think of our engagements in town. Well, to town +we came, and you may be sure, Sir, I expected to step into my coach on +my arrival here; but, what was my surprise and disappointment, when, +instead of this, he began to sound in my ears? "that the interest of +money was low, very low; and what a terrible thing it was to be +encumbered with a little regiment of servants in these hard times!" I +could easily perceive what all this tended to, but would not seem to +understand him; which made it highly necessary for Mr. Savecharges to +explain himself more intelligibly; to harp upon and protest he dreaded +the expense of keeping a coach. And truly, for his part, he could not +conceive how the pleasure resulting from such a convenience could be any +way adequate to the heavy expense attending it. I now thought it high +time to speak with equal plainness, and told him, as the fortune I +brought fairly entitled me to ride in my own coach, and as I was +sensible his circumstances would very well afford it, he must pardon me +if I insisted on a performance of his agreement. + +I appeal to you, Mr. Idler, whether any thing could be more civil, more +complaisant, than this? And, would you believe it, the creature in +return, a few days after, accosted me, in an offended tone, with, +"Madam, I can now tell you, your coach is ready; and since you are so +passionately fond of one, I intend you the honour of keeping a pair of +horses.--You insisted upon having an article of pin-money, and horses +are no part of my agreement." Base, designing wretch!--I beg your +pardon, Mr. Idler, the very recital of such mean, ungentleman-like +behaviour fires my blood, and lights up a flame within me. But hence, +thou worst of monsters, ill-timed Rage! and let me not spoil my cause +for want of temper. + +Now, though I am convinced I might make a worse use of part of the +pin-money, than by extending my bounty towards the support of so useful a +part of the brute creation; yet, like a true-born Englishwoman, I am so +tenacious of my rights and privileges, and moreover so good a friend to +the gentlemen of the law, that I protest, Mr. Idler, sooner than tamely +give up the point, and be quibbled out of my right, I will receive my +pin-money, as it were, with one hand, and pay it to them with the other; +provided they will give me, or, which is the same thing, my trustees, +encouragement to commence a suit against this dear, frugal husband of +mine. + +And of this I can't have the least shadow of doubt, inasmuch as I have +been told by very good authority, it is somewhere or other laid down as +a rule "_That whenever_ the law doth give any thing to one, it giveth +impliedly whatever is necessary for taking and enjoying the same[1]." +Now, I would gladly know what enjoyment I, or any lady in the kingdom, +can have of a coach without horses? The answer is obvious--None at all! +For, as Serjeant Catlyne very wisely observes, "though a coach has +wheels, to the end it may thereby and by virtue thereof be enabled to +move; yet in point of utility it may as well have none, if they are not +put in motion by means of its vital parts, that is, the horses." + +And, therefore, Sir, I humbly hope you and the learned in the law will +be of opinion, that two certain animals, or quadruped creatures, +commonly called or known by the name of horses, ought to be annexed to, +and go along with, the coach. SUKEY SAVECHARGES[2] + +[1] Quando lex aliquid alicui concedit, concedere videtur et id, sine + quo res ipsa esse non potest. Coke on Littleton, 56. a.--ED. + +[2] An unknown correspondent. + + + + +No. 55. SATURDAY, MAY 5, 1759. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Mr. Idler, + +I have taken the liberty of laying before you my complaint, and of +desiring advice or consolation with the greater confidence, because I +believe many other writers have suffered the same indignities with +myself, and hope my quarrel will be regarded by you and your readers as +the common cause of literature. + +Having been long a student, I thought myself qualified in time to become +an author. My inquiries have been much diversified and far extended, and +not finding my genius directing me by irresistible impulse to any +particular subject, I deliberated three years which part of knowledge to +illustrate by my labours. Choice is more often determined by accident +than by reason: I walked abroad one morning with a curious lady, and, by +her inquiries and observations, was incited to write the natural history +of the country in which I reside. + +Natural history is no work for one that loves his chair or his bed. +Speculation may be pursued on a soft couch, but nature must be observed +in the open air. I have collected materials with indefatigable +pertinacity. I have gathered glow-worms in the evening, and snails in +the morning; I have seen the daisy close and open, I have heard the owl +shriek at midnight, and hunted insects in the heat of noon. + +Seven years I was employed in collecting animals and vegetables, and +then found that my design was yet imperfect. The subterranean treasures +of the place had been passed unobserved, and another year was to be +spent in mines and coal-pits. What I had already done supplied a +sufficient motive to do more. I acquainted myself with the black +inhabitants of metallick caverns, and, in defiance of damps and floods, +wandered through the gloomy labyrinths, and gathered fossils from every +fissure, + +At last I began to write, and as I finished any section of my book, read +it to such of my friends, as were most skilful in the matter which it +treated. None of them were satisfied; one disliked the disposition of +the parts, another the colours of the style; one advised me to enlarge, +another to abridge. I resolved to read no more, but to take my own way +and write on, for by consultation I only perplexed my thoughts and +retarded my work. + +The book was at last finished, and I did not doubt but my labour would +be repaid by profit, and my ambition satisfied with honours. I +considered that natural history is neither temporary nor local, and that +though I limited my inquiries to my own country, yet every part of the +earth has productions common to all the rest. Civil history may be +partially studied, the revolutions of one nation may be neglected by +another; but after that in which all have an interest, all must be +inquisitive. No man can have sunk so far into stupidity as not to +consider the properties of the ground on which he walks, of the plants +on which he feeds, or the animals that delight his ear, or amuse his +eye; and, therefore, I computed that universal curiosity would call for +many editions of my book, and that in five years I should gain fifteen +thousand pounds by the sale of thirty thousand copies. + +When I began to write, I insured the house; and suffered the utmost +solicitude when I entrusted my book to the carrier, though I had secured +it against mischances by lodging two transcripts in different places. At +my arrival, I expected that the patrons of learning would contend for +the honour of a dedication, and resolved to maintain the dignity of +letters, by a haughty contempt of pecuniary solicitations. + +I took my lodgings near the house of the Royal Society, and expected +every morning a visit from the president. I walked in the Park, and +wondered that I overheard no mention of the great naturalist. At last I +visited a noble earl, and told him of my work: he answered, that he was +under an engagement never to subscribe. I was angry to have that refused +which I did not mean to ask, and concealed my design of making him +immortal. I went next day to another, and, in resentment of my late +affront, offered to prefix his name to my new book. He said, coldly, +that _he did not understand those things_; another thought, _there were +too many books_; and another would _talk with me when the races were +over_. + +Being amazed to find a man of learning so indecently slighted, I +resolved to indulge the philosophical pride of retirement and +independence. I then sent to some of the principal booksellers the plan +of my book, and bespoke a large room in the next tavern, that I might +more commodiously see them together, and enjoy the contest, while they +were outbidding one another. I drank my coffee, and yet nobody was come; +at last I received a note from one, to tell me that he was going out of +town; and from another, that natural history was out of his way. At last +there came a grave man, who desired to see the work, and, without +opening it, told me, that a book of that size _would never do_. + +I then condescended to step into shops, and mentioned my work to the +masters. Some never dealt with authors; others had their hands full; +some never had known such a dead time; others had lost by all that they +had published for the last twelvemonth. One offered to print my work, if +I could procure subscriptions for five hundred, and would allow me two +hundred copies for my property. I lost my patience, and gave him a kick; +for which he has indicted me. + +I can easily perceive, that there is a combination among them to defeat +my expectations; and I find it so general, that I am sure it must have +been long concerted. I suppose some of my friends, to whom I read the +first part, gave notice of my design, and, perhaps, sold the treacherous +intelligence at a higher price than the fraudulence of trade will now +allow me for my book. + +Inform me, Mr. Idler, what I must do; where must knowledge and industry +find their recompense, thus neglected by the high, and cheated by the +low? I sometimes resolve to print my book at my own expense, and, like +the Sibyl, double the price; and sometimes am tempted, in emulation of +Raleigh, to throw it into the fire, and leave this sordid generation to +the curses of posterity. Tell me, dear Idler, what I shall do. + +I am, Sir, &c. + + + + +No. 56. SATURDAY, MAY 12, 1759. + +There is such difference between the pursuits of men, that one part of +the inhabitants of a great city lives to little other purpose than to +wonder at the rest. Some have hopes and fears, wishes and aversions, +which never enter into the thoughts of others, and inquiry is +laboriously exerted to gain that which those who possess it are ready to +throw away. + +To those who are accustomed to value every thing by its use, and have no +such superfluity of time or money, as may prompt them to unnatural wants +or capricious emulations, nothing appears more improbable or extravagant +than the love of curiosities, or that desire of accumulating trifles, +which distinguishes many by whom no other distinction could have ever +been obtained. + +He that has lived without knowing to what height desire may be raised by +vanity, with what rapture baubles are snatched out of the hands of rival +collectors, how the eagerness of one raises eagerness in another, and +one worthless purchase makes a second necessary, may, by passing a few +hours at an auction, learn more than can be shown by many volumes of +maxims or essays. + +The advertisement of a sale is a signal which, at once, puts a thousand +hearts in motion, and brings contenders from every part to the scene of +distribution. He that had resolved to buy no more, feels his constancy +subdued; there is now something in the catalogue which completes his +cabinet, and which he was never before able to find. He whose sober +reflections inform him, that of adding collection to collection there is +no end, and that it is wise to leave early that which must be left +imperfect at last, yet cannot withhold himself from coming to see what +it is that brings so many together, and when he comes is soon +overpowered by his habitual passion; he is attracted by rarity, seduced +by example, and inflamed by competition. + +While the stores of pride and happiness are surveyed, one looks with +longing eyes and gloomy countenance on that which he despairs to gain +from a richer bidder; another keeps his eye with care from settling too +long on that which he most earnestly desires; and another, with more art +than virtue, depreciates that which he values most, in hope to have it +at an easy rate. + +The novice is often surprised to see what minute and unimportant +discriminations increase or diminish value. An irregular contortion of a +turbinated shell, which common eyes pass unregarded, will ten times +treble its price in the imagination of philosophers. Beauty is far from +operating upon collectors as upon low and vulgar minds, even where +beauty might be thought the only quality that could deserve notice. +Among the shells that please by their variety of colours, if one can be +found accidentally deformed by a cloudy spot, it is boasted as the pride +of the collection. China is sometimes purchased for little less than its +weight in gold, only because it is old, though neither less brittle, nor +better painted, than the modern; and brown china is caught up with +ecstasy, though no reason can be imagined for which it should be +preferred to common vessels of common clay. + +The fate of prints and coins is equally inexplicable. Some prints are +treasured up as inestimably valuable, because the impression was made +before the plate was finished. Of coins the price rises not from the +purity of the metal, the excellence of the workmanship, the elegance of +the legend, or the chronological use. A piece, of which neither the +inscription can be read, nor the face distinguished, if there remain of +it but enough to show that it is rare, will be sought by contending +nations, and dignify the treasury in which it shall be shown. + +Whether this curiosity, so barren of immediate advantage, and so liable +to depravation, does more harm or good, is not easily decided. Its harm +is apparent at first view. It fills the mind with trifling ambition; +fixes the attention upon things which have seldom any tendency towards +virtue or wisdom; employs in idle inquiries the time that is given for +better purposes; and often ends in mean and dishonest practices, when +desire increases by indulgence beyond the power of honest gratification. + +These are the effects of curiosity in excess; but what passion in excess +will not become vicious? All indifferent qualities and practices are +bad, if they are compared with those which are good, and good, if they +are opposed to those that are bad. The pride or the pleasure of making +collections, if it be restrained by prudence and morality, produces a +pleasing remission after more laborious studies; furnishes an amusement +not wholly unprofitable for that part of life, the greater part of many +lives, which would otherwise be lost in idleness or vice; it produces an +useful traffick between the industry of indigence and the curiosity of +wealth; it brings many things to notice that would be neglected, and, by +fixing the thoughts upon intellectual pleasures, resists the natural +encroachments of sensuality, and maintains the mind in her lawful +superiority. + + + + +No. 57. SATURDAY, MAY 19, 1759. + +Prudence is of more frequent use than any other intellectual quality; it +is exerted on slight occasions, and called into act by the cursory +business of common life. + +Whatever is universally necessary, has been granted to mankind on easy +terms. Prudence, as it is always wanted, is without great difficulty +obtained. It requires neither extensive view nor profound search, but +forces itself, by spontaneous impulse, upon a mind neither great nor +busy, neither engrossed by vast designs, nor distracted by multiplicity +of attention. + +Prudence operates on life in the same manner as rules on composition: it +produces vigilance rather than elevation, rather prevents loss than +procures advantage; and often escapes miscarriages, but seldom reaches +either power or honour. It quenches that ardour of enterprise, by which +every thing is done that can claim praise or admiration; and represses +that generous temerity which often fails, and often succeeds. Rules may +obviate faults, but can never confer beauties; and prudence keeps life +safe, but does not often make it happy. The world is not amazed with +prodigies of excellence, but when wit tramples upon rules, and +magnanimity breaks the chains of prudence. + +One of the most prudent of all that have fallen within my observation, +is my old companion Sophron, who has passed through the world in quiet, +by perpetual adherence to a few plain maxims, and wonders how contention +and distress can so often happen. + +The first principle of Sophron is, _to run no hazards_. Though he loves +money, he is of opinion that frugality is a more certain source of +riches than industry. It is to no purpose that any prospect of large +profit is set before him; he believes little about futurity, and does +not love to trust his money out of his sight, for _nobody knows what may +happen_. He has a small estate, which he lets at the old rent, because +_it is better to have a little than nothing_; but he rigorously demands +payment on the stated day, for _he that cannot pay one quarter cannot +pay two_. If he is told of any improvements in agriculture, he likes the +old way, has observed that changes very seldom answer expectation, is of +opinion that our forefathers knew how to till the ground as well as we; +and concludes with an argument that nothing can overpower, that the +expense of planting and fencing is immediate, and the advantage distant, +and that _he is no wise man who will quit a certainty for an +uncertainty_. + +Another of Sophron's rules is, _to mind no business but his own_. In the +state, he is of no party; but hears and speaks of publick affairs with +the same coldness as of the administration of some ancient republick. If +any flagrant act of fraud or oppression is mentioned, he hopes that _all +is not true that is told_: if misconduct or corruption puts the nation +in a flame, he hopes _every man means well_. At elections he leaves his +dependants to their own choice, and declines to vote himself, for every +candidate is a good man, whom he is unwilling to oppose or offend. + +If disputes happen among his neighbours, he observes an invariable and +cold neutrality. His punctuality has gained him the reputation of +honesty, and his caution that of wisdom; and few would refuse to refer +their claims to his award. He might have prevented many expensive +law-suits, and quenched many a feud in its first smoke; but always refuses +the office of arbitration, because he must decide against one or the +other. + +With the affairs of other families he is always unacquainted. He sees +estates bought and sold, squandered and increased, without praising the +economist, or censuring the spendthrift. He never courts the rising, +lest they should fall; nor insults the fallen, lest they should rise +again. His caution has the appearance of virtue, and all who do not want +his help praise his benevolence; but, if any man solicits his +assistance, he has just sent away all his money; and, when the +petitioner is gone, declares to his family that he is sorry for his +misfortunes, has always looked upon him with particular kindness, and, +therefore, could not lend him money, lest he should destroy their +friendship by the necessity of enforcing payment. + +Of domestick misfortunes he has never heard. When he is told the +hundredth time of a gentleman's daughter who has married the coachman, +he lifts up his hands with astonishment, for he always thought her a +sober girl. + +When nuptial quarrels, after having filled the country with talk and +laughter, at last end in separation, he never can conceive how it +happened, for he looked upon them as a happy couple. + +If his advice is asked, he never gives any particular direction, because +events are uncertain, and he will bring no blame upon himself; but he +takes the consulter tenderly by the hand, tells him he makes his case +his own, and advises him not to act rashly, but to weigh the reasons on +both sides; observes, that a man may be as easily too hasty as too slow; +and that as many fail by doing too much as too little; that _a wise man +has two ears and one tongue_; and that _little said is soon mended_; +that he could tell him this and that, but that after all every man is +the best judge of his own affairs. + +With this some are satisfied, and go home with great reverence of +Sophron's wisdom; and none are offended, because every one is left in +full possession of his own opinion. + +Sophron gives no characters. It is equally vain to tell him of vice and +virtue; for he has remarked, that no man likes to be censured, and that +very few are delighted with the praises of another. He has a few terms +which he uses to all alike. With respect to fortune, he believes every +one to be in good circumstances; he never exalts any understanding by +lavish praise, yet he meets with none but very sensible people. Every +man is honest and hearty; and every woman is a good creature. + +Thus Sophron creeps along, neither loved nor hated, neither favoured nor +opposed: he has never attempted to grow rich, for fear of growing poor; +and has raised no friends, for fear of making enemies. + + + + +No. 58. SATURDAY, MAY 26, 1759. + +Pleasure is very seldom found where it is sought. Our brightest blazes +of gladness are commonly kindled by unexpected sparks. The flowers which +scatter their odours, from time to time, in the paths of life, grow up +without culture from seeds scattered by chance. + +Nothing is more hopeless than a scheme of merriment. Wits and humourists +are brought together from distant quarters by preconcerted invitations; +they come, attended by their admirers, prepared to laugh and to applaud; +they gaze awhile on each other, ashamed to be silent, and afraid to +speak; every man is discontented with himself, grows angry with those +that give him pain, and resolves that he will contribute nothing to the +merriment of such worthless company. Wine inflames the general +malignity, and changes sullenness to petulance, till at last none can +bear any longer the presence of the rest. They retire to vent their +indignation in safer places, where they are heard with attention; their +importance is restored, they recover their good humour, and gladden the +night with wit and jocularity. + +Merriment is always the effect of a sudden impression. The jest which is +expected is already destroyed. The most active imagination will be +sometimes torpid, under the frigid influence of melancholy, and +sometimes occasions will be wanting to tempt the mind, however volatile, +to sallies and excursions. Nothing was ever said with uncommon felicity, +but by the co-operation of chance; and, therefore, wit, as well as +valour, must be content to share its honours with fortune. + +All other pleasures are equally uncertain; the general remedy of +uneasiness is change of place; almost every one has some journey of +pleasure in his mind, with which he flatters his expectation. He that +travels in theory has no inconvenience; he has shade and sunshine at his +disposal, and wherever he alights finds tables of plenty and looks of +gaiety. These ideas are indulged till the day of departure arrives, the +chaise is called, and the progress of happiness begins. + +A few miles teach him the fallacies of imagination. The road is dusty, +the air is sultry, the horses are sluggish, and the postillion brutal. +He longs for the time of dinner, that he may eat and rest. The inn is +crowded, his orders are neglected, and nothing remains but that he +devour in haste what the cook has spoiled, and drive on in quest of +better entertainment. He finds at night a more commodious house, but the +best is always worse than he expected. + +He at last enters his native province, and resolves to feast his mind +with the conversation of his old friends, and the recollection of +juvenile frolicks. He stops at the house of his friend, whom he designs +to overpower with pleasure by the unexpected interview. He is not known +till he tells his name, and revives the memory of himself by a gradual +explanation. He is then coldly received, and ceremoniously feasted. He +hastes away to another, whom his affairs have called to a distant place, +and, having seen the empty house, goes away disgusted by a +disappointment which could not be intended, because it could not be +foreseen. At the next house he finds every face clouded with misfortune, +and is regarded with malevolence as an unreasonable intruder, who comes +not to visit but to insult them. It is seldom that we find either men +or places such as we expect them. He that has pictured a prospect upon +his fancy, will receive little pleasure from his eyes; he that has +anticipated the conversation of a wit, will wonder to what prejudice he +owes his reputation. Yet it is necessary to hope, though hope should +always be deluded; for hope itself is happiness, and its frustrations, +however frequent, are less dreadful than its extinction. + + + + +No. 59. SATURDAY, JUNE 2, 1759. + +In the common enjoyments of life, we cannot very liberally indulge the +present hour, but by anticipating part of the pleasure which might have +relieved the tediousness of another day; and any uncommon exertion of +strength, or perseverance in labour, is succeeded by a long interval of +languor and weariness. Whatever advantage we snatch beyond the certain +portion allotted us by nature, is like money spent before it is due, +which, at the time of regular payment, will be missed and regretted. + +Fame, like all other things which are supposed to give or to increase +happiness, is dispensed with the same equality of distribution. He that +is loudly praised will be clamorously censured; he that rises hastily +into fame will be in danger of sinking suddenly into oblivion. + +Of many writers who filled their age with wonder, and whose names we +find celebrated in the books of their contemporaries, the works are now +no longer to be seen, or are seen only amidst the lumber of libraries +which are seldom visited, where they lie only to show the deceitfulness +of hope, and the uncertainty of honour. + +Of the decline of reputation many causes may be assigned. It is commonly +lost because it never was deserved; and was conferred at first, not by +the suffrage of criticism, but by the fondness of friendship, or +servility of flattery. The great and popular are very freely applauded; +but all soon grow weary of echoing to each other a name which has no +other claim to notice, but that many mouths are pronouncing it at once. + +But many have lost the final reward of their labours, because they were +too hasty to enjoy it. They have laid hold on recent occurrences, and +eminent names, and delighted their readers with allusions and remarks, +in which all were interested, and to which all, therefore, were +attentive. But the effect ceased with its cause; the time quickly came +when new events drove the former from memory, when the vicissitudes of +the world brought new hopes and fears, transferred the love and hatred +of the publick to other agents; and the writer, whose works were no +longer assisted by gratitude or resentment, was left to the cold regard +of idle curiosity. + +He that writes upon general principles, or delivers universal truths, +may hope to be often read, because his work will be equally useful at +all times and in every country; but he cannot expect it to be received +with eagerness, or to spread with rapidity, because desire can have no +particular stimulation: that which is to be loved long, must be loved +with reason rather than with passion. He that lays his labours out upon +temporary subjects, easily finds readers, and quickly loses them; for +what should make the book valued when the subject is no more? + +These observations will show the reason why the poem of Hudibras is +almost forgotten, however embellished with sentiments and diversified +with allusions, however bright with wit, and however solid with truth. +The hypocrisy which it detected, and the folly which it ridiculed, have +long vanished from publick notice. Those who had felt the mischief of +discord, and the tyranny of usurpation, read it with rapture; for every +line brought back to memory something known, and gratified resentment by +the just censure of something hated. But the book, which was once quoted +by princes, and which supplied conversation to all the assemblies of the +gay and witty, is now seldom mentioned, and even by those that affect to +mention it, is seldom read. So vainly is wit lavished upon fugitive +topicks; so little can architecture secure duration when the ground is +false. + + + + +No. 60. SATURDAY, JUNE 9, 1759. + +Criticism is a study by which men grow important and formidable at a +very small expense. The power of invention has been conferred by nature +upon few, and the labour of learning those sciences, which may by mere +labour be obtained, is too great to be willingly endured; but every man +can exert such judgment as he has upon the works of others; and he whom +nature has made weak, and idleness keeps ignorant, may yet support his +vanity by the name of a Critick. + +I hope it will give comfort to great numbers who are passing through the +world in obscurity, when I inform them how easily distinction may be +obtained. All the other powers of literature are coy and haughty, they +must be long courted, and at last are not always gained; but Criticism +is a goddess easy of access and forward of advance, who will meet the +slow, and encourage the timorous; the want of meaning she supplies with +words, and the want of spirit she recompenses with malignity. + +This profession has one recommendation peculiar to itself, that it gives +vent to malignity without real mischief. No genius was ever blasted by +the breath of criticks. The poison which, if confined, would have burst +the heart, fumes away in empty hisses, and malice is set at ease with +very little danger to merit. The critick is the only man whose triumph +is without another's pain, and whose greatness does not rise upon +another's ruin. + +To a study at once so easy and so reputable, so malicious and so +harmless, it cannot be necessary to invite my readers by a long or +laboured exhortation; it is sufficient, since all would be criticks if +they could, to show, by one eminent example, that all can be criticks if +they will. + +Dick Minim, after the common course of puerile studies, in which he was +no great proficient, was put an apprentice to a brewer, with whom he had +lived two years, when his uncle died in the city, and left him a large +fortune in the stocks. Dick had for six months before used the company +of the lower players, of whom he had learned to scorn a trade, and, +being now at liberty to follow his genius, he resolved to be a man of +wit and humour. That he might be properly initiated in his new +character, he frequented the coffee-houses near the theatres, where he +listened very diligently, day after day, to those who talked of language +and sentiments, and unities and catastrophes, till, by slow degrees, he +began to think that be understood something of the stage, and hoped in +time to talk himself. + +But he did not trust so much to natural sagacity as wholly to neglect +the help of books. When the theatres were shut, he retired to Richmond +with a few select writers, whose opinions he impressed upon his memory +by unwearied diligence; and, when he returned with other wits to the +town, was able to tell, in very proper phrases, that the chief business +of art is to copy nature; that a perfect writer is not to be expected, +because genius decays as judgment increases; that the great art is the +art of blotting; and that, according to the rule of Horace, every piece +should be kept nine years. + +Of the great authors he now began to display the characters, laying down +as an universal position, that all had beauties and defects. His opinion +was, that Shakespeare, committing himself wholly to the impulse of +nature, wanted that correctness which learning would have given him; and +that Jonson, trusting to learning, did not sufficiently cast his eyes on +nature. He blamed the stanzas of Spenser, and could not bear the +hexameters of Sidney. Denham and Waller he held the first reformers of +English numbers; and thought that if Waller could have obtained the +strength of Denham, or Denham the sweetness of Waller, there had been +nothing wanting to complete a poet. He often expressed his commiseration +of Dryden's poverty, and his indignation at the age which suffered him +to write for bread; he repeated with rapture the first lines of All for +Love, but wondered at the corruption of taste which could bear any thing +so unnatural as rhyming tragedies. + +In Otway he found uncommon powers of moving the passions, but was +disgusted by his general negligence, and blamed him for making a +conspirator his hero; and never concluded his disquisition, without +remarking how happily the sound of the clock is made to alarm the +audience. Southern would have been his favourite, but that he mixes +comick with tragick scenes, intercepts the natural course of the +passions, and fills the mind with a wild confusion of mirth and +melancholy. The versification of Rowe he thought too melodious for the +stage, and too little varied in different passions. He made it the great +fault of Congreve, that all his persons were wits, and that he always +wrote with more art than nature. He considered Cato rather as a poem +than a play, and allowed Addison to be the complete master of allegory +and grave humour, but paid no great deference to him as a critick. He +thought the chief merit of Prior was in his easy tales and lighter +poems, though he allowed that his Solomon had many noble sentiments +elegantly expressed. In Swift he discovered an inimitable vein of irony, +and an easiness which all would hope and few would attain. Pope he was +inclined to degrade from a poet to a versifier, and thought his numbers +rather luscious than sweet. He often lamented the neglect of Phaedra and +Hippolytus, and wished to see the stage under better regulations. + +These assertions passed commonly uncontradicted; and if now and then an +opponent started up, he was quickly repressed by the suffrages of the +company, and Minim went away from every dispute with elation of heart +and increase of confidence. + +He now grew conscious of his abilities, and began to talk of the present +state of dramatick poetry; wondered what had become of the comick genius +which supplied our ancestors with wit and pleasantry, and why no writer +could be found that durst now venture beyond a farce. He saw no reason +for thinking that the vein of humour was exhausted, since we live in a +country, where liberty suffers every character to spread itself to its +utmost bulk, and which, therefore, produces more originals than all the +rest of the world together. Of tragedy he concluded business to be the +soul, and yet often hinted that love predominates too much upon the +modern stage. + +He was now an acknowledged critick, and had his own seat in a +coffee-house, and headed a party in the pit. Minim has more vanity than +ill-nature, and seldom desires to do much mischief; he will, perhaps, +murmur a little in the ear of him that sits next him, but endeavours to +influence the audience to favour, by clapping when an actor exclaims, +_Ye gods!_ or laments the misery of his country. + +By degrees he was admitted to rehearsals; and many of his friends are of +opinion, that our present poets are indebted to him for their happiest +thoughts; by his contrivance the bell was rung twice in Barbarossa, and +by his persuasion the author of Cleone concluded his play without a +couplet; for what can be more absurd, said Minim, than that part of a +play should be rhymed, and part written in blank verse? and by what +acquisition of faculties is the speaker, who never could find rhymes +before, enabled to rhyme at the conclusion of an act? + +He is the great investigator of hidden beauties, and is particularly +delighted when he finds "the sound an echo to the sense." He has read +all our poets, with particular attention to this delicacy of +versification, and wonders at the supineness with which their works have +been hitherto perused, so that no man has found the sound of a drum in +this distich: + + "When pulpit, drum ecclesiastic, + Was beat with fist instead of a stick;" + +and that the wonderful lines upon honour and a bubble have hitherto +passed without notice: + + "Honour is like the glassy bubble, + Which costs philosophers such trouble; + Where, one part crack'd, the whole does fly, + And wits are crack'd to find out why." + +In these verses, says Minim, we have two striking accommodations of the +sound to the sense. It is impossible to utter the first two lines +emphatically without an act like that which they describe; _bubble_ and +_trouble_ causing a momentary inflation of the cheeks by the retention +of the breath, which is afterwards forcibly emitted, as in the practice +of _blowing bubbles_. But the greatest excellence is in the third line, +which is _crack'd_ in the middle to express a crack, and then shivers +into monosyllables. Yet has this diamond lain neglected with common +stones, and among the innumerable admirers of Hudibras the observation +of this superlative passage has been reserved for the sagacity of Minim. + + + + +No. 61. SATURDAY, JUNE 15, 1759. + +Mr. Minim had now advanced himself to the zenith of critical reputation; +when he was in the pit, every eye in the boxes was fixed upon him; when +he entered his coffee-house, he was surrounded by circles of candidates, +who passed their noviciate of literature under his tuition: his opinion +was asked by all who had no opinion of their own, and yet loved to +debate and decide; and no composition was supposed to pass in safety to +posterity, till it had been secured by Minim's approbation. + +Minim professes great admiration of the wisdom and munificence by which +the academies of the continent were raised; and often wishes for some +standard of taste, for some tribunal, to which merit may appeal from +caprice, prejudice and malignity. He has formed a plan for an academy of +criticism, where every work of imagination may be read before it is +printed, and which shall authoritatively direct the theatres what pieces +to receive or reject, to exclude or to revive. + +Such an institution would, in Dick's opinion, spread the fame of English +literature over Europe, and make London the metropolis of elegance and +politeness, the place to which the learned and ingenious of all +countries would repair for instruction and improvement, and where +nothing would any longer be applauded or endured that was not conformed +to the nicest rules, and finished with the highest elegance. + +Till some happy conjunction of the planets shall dispose our princes or +ministers to make themselves immortal by such an academy, Minim contents +himself to preside four nights in a week in a critical society selected +by himself, where he is heard without contradiction, and whence his +judgment is disseminated through the great vulgar and the small. + +When he is placed in the chair of criticism, he declares loudly for the +noble simplicity of our ancestors, in opposition to the petty +refinements, and ornamental luxuriance. Sometimes he is sunk in despair, +and perceives false delicacy daily gaining ground, and sometimes +brightens his countenance with a gleam of hope, and predicts the revival +of the true sublime. He then fulminates his loudest censures against the +monkish barbarity of rhyme; wonders how beings that pretend to reason +can be pleased with one line always ending like another; tells how +unjustly and unnaturally sense is sacrificed to sound; how often the +best thoughts are mangled by the necessity of confining or extending +them to the dimensions of a couplet; and rejoices that genius has, in +our days, shaken off the shackles which had encumbered it so long. Yet +he allows that rhyme may sometimes be borne, if the lines be often +broken, and the pauses judiciously diversified. + +From blank verse he makes an easy transition to Milton, whom he produces +as an example of the slow advance of lasting reputation. Milton is the +only writer in whose books Minim can read for ever without weariness. +What cause it is that exempts this pleasure from satiety he has long and +diligently inquired, and believes it to consist in the perpetual +variation of the numbers, by which the ear is gratified and the +attention awakened. The lines that are commonly thought rugged and +unmusical, he conceives to have been written to temper the melodious +luxury of the rest, or to express things by a proper cadence: for he +scarcely finds a verse that has not this favourite beauty; he declares +that he could shiver in a hot-house when he reads that + + "the ground + Burns frore, and cold performs th' effect of fire;" + +and that, when Milton bewails his blindness, the verse, + + "So thick a drop serene has quench'd these orbs," + +has, he knows not how, something that strikes him with an obscure +sensation like that which he fancies would be felt from the sound of +darkness. + +Minim is not so confident of his rules of judgment as not very eagerly +to catch new light from the name of the author. He is commonly so +prudent as to spare those whom he cannot resist, unless, as will +sometimes happen, he finds the publick combined against them. But a +fresh pretender to fame he is strongly inclined to censure, till his own +honour requires that he commend him. Till he knows the success of a +composition, he intrenches himself in general terms; there are some new +thoughts and beautiful passages, but there is likewise much which he +would have advised the author to expunge. He has several favourite +epithets, of which he has never settled the meaning, but which are very +commodiously applied to books which he has not read, or cannot +understand. One is _manly_, another is _dry_, another _stiff_, and +another _flimsy_; sometimes he discovers delicacy of style, and +sometimes meets with _strange expressions_. + +He is never so great, or so happy, as when a youth of promising parts is +brought to receive his directions for the prosecution of his studies. He +then puts on a very serious air; he advises the pupil to read none but +the best authors; and when he finds one congenial to his own mind, to +study his beauties, but avoid his faults; and, when he sits down to +write, to consider how his favourite author would think at the present +time on the present occasion. He exhorts him to catch those moments when +he finds his thoughts expanded and his genius exalted, but to take care +lest imagination hurry him beyond the bounds of nature. He holds +diligence the mother of success; yet enjoins him, with great +earnestness, not to read more than he can digest, and not to confuse his +mind by pursuing studies of contrary tendencies. He tells him, that +every man has his genius, and that Cicero could never be a poet. The boy +retires illuminated, resolves to follow his genius, and to think how +Milton would have thought: and Minim feasts upon his own beneficence +till another day brings another pupil. + + + + +No. 62. SATURDAY, JUNE 23, 1759. + + _Quid faciam, proescribe. Quiescas_.--HOR. Lib. ii. Sat. i. 5. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Sir, + +An opinion prevails almost universally in the world, that he who has +money has every thing. This is not a modern paradox, or the tenet of a +small and obscure sect, but a persuasion which appears to have operated +upon most minds in all ages, and which is supported by authorities so +numerous and so cogent, that nothing but long experience could have +given me confidence to question its truth. + +But experience is the test by which all the philosophers of the present +age agree, that speculation must be tried; and I may be, therefore, +allowed to doubt the power of money, since I have been a long time rich, +and have not yet found that riches can make me happy. + +My father was a farmer neither wealthy nor indigent, who gave me a +better education than was suitable to my birth, because my uncle in the +city designed me for his heir, and desired that I might be bred a +gentleman. My uncle's wealth was the perpetual subject of conversation +in the house; and when any little misfortune befell us, or any +mortification dejected us, my father always exhorted me to hold up my +head, for my uncle would never marry. + +My uncle, indeed, kept his promise. Having his mind completely busied +between his warehouse and the 'Change, he felt no tediousness of life, +nor any want of domestick amusements. When my father died, he received +me kindly; but, after a few months, finding no great pleasure in the +conversation of each other, we parted; and he remitted me a small +annuity, on which I lived a quiet and studious life, without any wish to +grow great by the death of my benefactor. + +But though I never suffered any malignant impatience to take hold on my +mind, I could not forbear sometimes to imagine to myself the pleasure of +being rich; and, when I read of diversions and magnificence, resolved to +try, when time should put the trial in my power, what pleasure they +could afford. + +My uncle, in the latter spring of his life, when his ruddy cheek and his +firm nerves promised him a long and healthy age, died of an apoplexy. +His death gave me neither joy nor sorrow. He did me good, and I regarded +him with gratitude; but I could not please him, and, therefore, could +not love him. + +He had the policy of little minds, who love to surprise; and, having +always represented his fortune as less than it was, had, I suppose, +often gratified himself with thinking, how I should be delighted to find +myself twice as rich as I expected. My wealth was such as exceeded all +the schemes of expense which I had formed; and I soon began to expand my +thoughts, and look round for some purchase of felicity. + +The most striking effect of riches is the splendour of dress, which +every man has observed to enforce respect, and facilitate reception; and +my first desire was to be fine. I sent for a tailor who was employed by +the nobility, and ordered such a suit of clothes as I had often looked +on with involuntary submission, and am ashamed to remember with what +flutters of expectation I waited for the hour, when I should issue forth +in all the splendour of embroidery. The clothes were brought, and for +three days I observed many eyes turned towards me as I passed: but I +felt myself obstructed in the common intercourse of civility by an +uneasy consciousness of my new appearance; as I thought myself more +observed, I was more anxious about my mien and behaviour; and the mien +which is formed by care is commonly ridiculous. A short time accustomed +me to myself, and my dress was without pain, and without pleasure. + +For a little while I tried to be a rake, but I began too late; and +having by nature no turn for a frolick, was in great danger of ending in +a drunkard. A fever, in which not one of my companions paid me a visit, +gave me time for reflection. I found that there was no great pleasure in +breaking windows and lying in the round-house; and resolved to associate +no longer with those whom, though I had treated and bailed them, I could +not make friends. + +I then changed my measures, kept running horses, and had the comfort of +seeing my name very often in the news. I had a chesnut horse, the +grandson of Childers, who won four plates, and ten by-matches; and a bay +filly, who carried off the five years' old plate, and was expected to +perform much greater exploits, when my groom broke her wind, because I +happened to catch him selling oats for beer. This happiness was soon at +an end; there was no pleasure when I lost, and, when I won, I could not +much exalt myself by the virtues of my horse. I grew ashamed of the +company of jockey-lords, and resolved to spend no more of my time in the +stable. + +It was now known that I had money, and would spend it, and I passed four +months in the company of architects, whose whole business was to +persuade me to build a house. I told them that I had more room than I +wanted, but could not get rid of their importunities. A new plan was +brought me every morning; till at last my constancy was overpowered, and +I began to build. The happiness of building lasted but a little while, +for though I love to spend, I hate to be cheated; and I soon found, that +to build is to be robbed. + +How I proceed in the pursuit of happiness, you shall hear when I find +myself disposed to write. + +I am, Sir, &c. + +TIM. RANGER. + + + + +No. 63. SATURDAY, JUNE 30, 1759. + +The natural progress of the works of men is from rudeness to +convenience, from convenience to elegance, and from elegance to nicety. + +The first labour is enforced by necessity. The savage finds himself +incommoded by heat and cold, by rain and wind; he shelters himself in +the hollow of a rock, and learns to dig a cave where there was none +before. He finds the sun and the wind excluded by the thicket; and when +the accidents of the chase, or the convenience of pasturage, leads him +into more open places, he forms a thicket for himself, by planting +stakes at proper distances, and laying branches from one to another. + +The next gradation of skill and industry produces a house closed with +doors, and divided by partitions; and apartments are multiplied and +disposed according to the various degrees of power or invention; +improvement succeeds improvement, as he that is freed from a greater +evil grows impatient of a less, till ease in time is advanced to +pleasure. + +The mind, set free from the importunities of natural want, gains leisure +to go in search of superfluous gratifications, and adds to the uses of +habitation the delights of prospect. Then begins the reign of symmetry; +orders of architecture are invented, and one part of the edifice is +conformed to another, without any other reason, than that the eye may +not be offended. + +The passage is very short from elegance to luxury, Ionick and Corinthian +columns are soon succeeded by gilt cornices, inlaid floors and petty +ornaments, which show rather the wealth than the taste of the +possessour. + +Language proceeds, like every thing else, through improvement to +degeneracy. The rovers who first took possession of a country, having +not many ideas, and those not nicely modified or discriminated, were +contented, if by general terms and abrupt sentences they could make +their thoughts known to one another: as life begins to be more +regulated, and property to become limited, disputes must be decided, and +claims adjusted; the differences of things are noted, and distinctness +and propriety of expression become necessary. In time, happiness and +plenty give rise to curiosity, and the sciences are cultivated for ease +and pleasure; to the arts, which are now to be taught, emulation soon +adds the art of teaching; and the studious and ambitious contend not +only who shall think best, but who shall tell their thoughts in the most +pleasing manner. + +Then begin the arts of rhetorick and poetry, the regulation of figures, +the selection of words, the modulation of periods, the graces of +transition, the complication of clauses, and all the delicacies of style +and subtilties of composition, useful while they advance perspicuity, +and laudable while they increase pleasure, but easy to be refined by +needless scrupulosity till they shall more embarrass the writer than +assist the reader or delight him. + +The first state is commonly antecedent to the practice of writing; the +ignorant essays of imperfect diction pass away with the savage +generation that uttered them. No nation can trace their language beyond +the second period, and even of that it does not often happen that many +monuments remain. + +The fate of the English tongue is like that of others. We know nothing +of the scanty jargon of our barbarous ancestors; but we have specimens +of our language when it began to be adapted to civil and religious +purposes, and find it such as might naturally be expected, artless and +simple, unconnected and concise. The writers seem to have desired little +more than to be understood, and, perhaps, seldom aspired to the praise +of pleasing. Their verses were considered chiefly as memorial, and, +therefore, did not differ from prose but by the measure or the rhyme. + +In this state, varied a little according to the different purposes or +abilities of writers, our language may be said to have continued to the +time of Gower, whom Chaucer calls his master, and who, however obscured +by his scholar's popularity, seems justly to claim the honour which has +been hitherto denied him, of showing his countrymen that something more +was to be desired, and that English verse might be exalted into poetry. + +From the time of Gower and Chaucer, the English writers have studied +elegance, and advanced their language, by successive improvements, to as +much harmony as it can easily receive, and as much copiousness as human +knowledge has hitherto required. These advances have not been made at +all times with the same diligence or the same success. Negligence has +suspended the course of improvement, or affectation turned it aside; +time has elapsed with little change, or change has been made without +amendment. But elegance has been long kept in view with attention as +near to constancy as life permits, till every man now endeavours to +excel others in accuracy, or outshine them in splendour of style, and +the danger is, lest care should too soon pass to affectation. + + + + +No. 64. SATURDAY, JULY 1, 1759. + + _Quid faciam, praescribe. Quiescas_.--HOR. Lib. ii. Sat. i. 5. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Sir, + +As nature has made every man desirous of happiness, I flatter myself, +that you and your readers cannot but feel some curiosity to know the +sequel of my story; for though, by trying the different schemes of +pleasure, I have yet found nothing in which I could finally acquiesce; +yet the narrative of my attempts will not be wholly without use, since +we always approach nearer to truth as we detect more and more varieties +of errour. + +When I had sold my racers, and put the orders of architecture out of my +head, my next resolution was to be a _fine gentleman_. I frequented the +polite coffee-houses, grew acquainted with all the men of humour, and +gained the right of bowing familiarly to half the nobility. In this new +scene of life my great labour was to learn to laugh. I had been used to +consider laughter as the effect of merriment; but I soon learned that it +is one of the arts of adulation, and, from laughing only to show that I +was pleased, I now began to laugh when I wished to please. This was at +first very difficult. I sometimes heard the story with dull +indifference, and, not exalting myself to merriment by due gradations, +burst out suddenly into an awkward noise, which was not always +favourably interpreted. Sometimes I was behind the rest of the company, +and lost the grace of laughing by delay, and sometimes, when I began at +the right time, was deficient in loudness or in length. But, by diligent +imitation of the best models, I attained at last such flexibility of +muscles, that I was always a welcome auditor of a story, and got the +reputation of a good-natured fellow. + +This was something; but much more was to be done, that I might be +universally allowed to be a fine gentleman. I appeared at court on all +publick days; betted at gaming-tables; and played at all the routs of +eminence. I went every night to the opera, took a fiddler of disputed +merit under my protection, became the head of a musical faction, and had +sometimes concerts at my own house. I once thought to have attained the +highest rank of elegance, by taking a foreign singer into keeping. But +my favourite fiddler contrived to be arrested, on the night of a +concert, for a finer suit of clothes than I had ever presumed to wear, +and I lost all the fame of patronage by refusing to bail him. + +My next ambition was to sit for my picture. I spent a whole winter in +going from painter to painter, to bespeak a whole length of one, and a +half length of another; I talked of nothing but attitudes, draperies and +proper lights; took my friends to see the pictures after every sitting; +heard every day of a wonderful performer in crayons and miniature, and +sent my pictures to be copied; was told by the judges that they were not +like, and was recommended to other artists. At length, being not able to +please my friends, I grew less pleased myself, and at last resolved to +think no more about it. + +It was impossible to live in total idleness: and wandering about in +search of something to do, I was invited to a weekly meeting of +virtuosos, and felt myself instantaneously seized with an +unextinguishable ardour for all natural curiosities. I ran from auction +to auction, became a critick in shells and fossils, bought a _Hortus +siccus_ of inestimable value, and purchased a secret art of preserving +insects, which made my collection the envy of the other philosophers. I +found this pleasure mingled with much vexation. All the faults of my +life were for nine months circulated through the town with the most +active malignity, because I happened to catch a moth of peculiar +variegation; and because I once out-bid all the lovers of shells, and +carried off a nautilus, it was hinted that the validity of my uncle's +will ought to be disputed. I will not deny that I was very proud both of +the moth and of the shell, and gratified myself with the envy of my +companions, perhaps, more than became a benevolent being. But in time I +grew weary of being hated for that which produced no advantage, gave my +shells to children that wanted play-things, and suppressed the art of +drying butterflies, because I would not tempt idleness and cruelty to +kill them. + +I now began to feel life tedious, and wished to store myself with +friends, with whom I might grow old in the interchange of benevolence. I +had observed that popularity was most easily gained by an open table, +and, therefore, hired a French cook, furnished my sideboard with great +magnificence, filled my cellar with wines of pompous appellations, +bought every thing that was dear before it was good, and invited all +those who were most famous for judging of a dinner. In three weeks my +cook gave me warning, and, upon inquiry, told me that Lord Queasy, who +dined with me the day before, had sent him an offer of double wages. My +pride prevailed; I raised his wages, and invited his lordship to another +feast. I love plain meat, and was, therefore, soon weary of spreading a +table of which I could not partake. I found that my guests, when they +went away, criticised their entertainment, and censured my profusion; my +cook thought himself necessary, and took upon him the direction of the +house; and I could not rid myself of flatterers, or break from slavery, +but by shutting up my house, and declaring my resolution to live in +lodgings. + +After all this, tell me, dear Idler, what I must do next; I have health, +I have money, and I hope that I have understanding; yet, with all these, +I have never been able to pass a single day which I did not wish at an +end before sun-set. Tell me, dear Idler, what I shall do. + +I am + +Your humble servant, + +TIM. RANGER. + + + + +No. 65. SATURDAY, JULY 14, 1759. + +This sequel of Clarendon's history, at last happily published, is an +accession to English literature equally agreeable to the admirers of +elegance and the lovers of truth; many doubtful facts may now be +ascertained, and many questions, after long debate, may be determined by +decisive authority. He that records transactions in which himself was +engaged, has not only an opportunity of knowing innumerable particulars +which escape spectators, but has his natural powers exalted by that +ardour which always rises at the remembrance of our own importance, and +by which every man is enabled to relate his own actions better than +another's. + +The difficulties through which this work has struggled into light, and +the delays with which our hopes have been long mocked, naturally lead +the mind to the consideration of the common fate of posthumous +compositions. + +He who sees himself surrounded by admirers, and whose vanity is hourly +feasted with all the luxuries of studied praise, is easily persuaded +that his influence will be extended beyond his life; that they who +cringe in his presence will reverence his memory, and that those who are +proud to be numbered among his friends, will endeavour to vindicate his +choice by zeal for his reputation. + +With hopes like these, to the executors of Swift was committed the +history of the last years of queen Anne, and to those of Pope, the works +which remained unprinted in his closet. The performances of Pope were +burnt by those whom he had, perhaps, selected from all mankind as most +likely to publish them; and the history had likewise perished, had not a +straggling transcript fallen into busy hands. + +The papers left in the closet of Pieresc supplied his heirs with a whole +winter's fuel; and many of the labours of the learned Bishop Lloyd were +consumed in the kitchen of his descendants. + +Some works, indeed, have escaped total destruction, but yet have had +reason to lament the fate of orphans exposed to the frauds of unfaithful +guardians. How Hale would have borne the mutilations which his Pleas of +the Crown have suffered from the editor, they who know his character +will easily conceive[1]. + +The original copy of Burnet's history, though promised to some publick +library[2], has been never given; and who then can prove the fidelity of +the publication, when the authenticity of Clarendon's history, though +printed with the sanction of one of the first universities of the world, +had not an unexpected manuscript been happily discovered, would, with +the help of factious credulity, have been brought into question by the +two lowest of all human beings, a scribbler for a party, and a +commissioner of excise[3]? + +Vanity is often no less mischievous than negligence or dishonesty. He +that possesses a valuable manuscript, hopes to raise its esteem by +concealment, and delights in the distinction which he imagines himself +to obtain by keeping the key of a treasure which he neither uses nor +imparts. From him it falls to some other owner, less vain but more +negligent, who considers it as useless lumber, and rids himself of the +encumbrance. + +Yet there are some works which the authors must consign unpublished to +posterity, however uncertain be the event, however hopeless be the +trust. He that writes the history of his own times, if he adheres +steadily to truth, will write that which his own times will not easily +endure. He must be content to reposite his book, till all private +passions shall cease, and love and hatred give way to curiosity. + +But many leave the labours of half their life to their executors and to +chance, because they will not send them abroad unfinished, and are +unable to finish them, having prescribed to themselves such a degree of +exactness as human diligence can scarcely attain. "Lloyd", says Burnet, +"did not lay out his learning with the same diligence as he laid it in." +He was always hesitating and inquiring, raising objections and removing +them, and waiting for clearer light and fuller discovery. Baker, after +many years passed in biography, left his manuscripts to be buried in a +library, because that was imperfect which could never be perfected. + +Of these learned men, let those who aspire to the same praise imitate +the diligence, and avoid the scrupulosity. Let it be always remembered +that life is short, that knowledge is endless, and that many doubts +deserve not to be cleared. Let those whom nature and study have +qualified to teach mankind, tell us what they have learned while they +are yet able to tell it, and trust their reputation only to themselves. + +[1] See Preface. + +[2] It would be proper to reposite, in some public place, the manuscript + of Clarendon, which has not escaped all suspicion of unfaithful + publication. + + The manuscript of Clarendon is now in the Bodleian library at + Oxford, and the editor of the present edition has it before him + while writing this note. He may likewise add, that a new and emended + edition is now printing from the original MS. at the Clarendon + press. December, 1824. + +[3] See Preface. + Dr. Johnson's hatred of the excise reminds us of John Wesley's + wailing philippic against turnpike gates, which he denounced as the + most cruel of impositions on the way-faring man. + + + + +No. 66. SATURDAY, JULY 21, 1759. + +No complaint is more frequently repeated among the learned, than that +of the waste made by time among the labours of antiquity. Of those who +once filled the civilized world with their renown, nothing is now left +but their names, which are left only to raise desires that never can be +satisfied, and sorrow which never can be comforted. + +Had all the writings of the ancients been faithfully delivered down from +age to age, had the Alexandrian library been spared, and the Palatine +repositories remained unimpaired, how much might we have known of which +we are now doomed to be ignorant! how many laborious inquiries, and dark +conjectures; how many collations of broken hints and mutilated passages +might have been spared! We should have known the successions of princes, +the revolutions of empires, the actions of the great, and opinions of +the wise, the laws and constitutions of every state, and the arts by +which publick grandeur and happiness are acquired and preserved; we +should have traced the progress of life, seen colonies from distant +regions take possession of European deserts, and troops of savages +settled into communities by the desire of keeping what they had +acquired; we should have traced the gradations of civility, and +travelled upward to the original of things by the light of history, till +in remoter times it had glimmered in fable, and at last sunk into +darkness. + +If the works of imagination had been less diminished, it is likely that +all future times might have been supplied with inexhaustible amusement +by the fictions of antiquity. The tragedies of Sophocles and Euripides +would all have shown the stronger passions in all their diversities; and +the comedies of Menander would have furnished all the maxims of +domestick life. Nothing would have been necessary to moral wisdom but to +have studied these great masters, whose knowledge would have guided +doubt, and whose authority would have silenced cavils. + +Such are the thoughts that rise in every student, when his curiosity is +eluded, and his searches are frustrated; yet it may, perhaps, be +doubted, whether our complaints are not sometimes inconsiderate, and +whether we do not imagine more evil than we feel. Of the ancients, +enough remains to excite our emulation and direct our endeavours. Many +of the works which time has left us, we know to have been these that +were most esteemed, and which antiquity itself considered as models; so +that, having the originals, we may without much regret lose the +imitations. The obscurity which the want of contemporary writers often +produces, only darkens single passages, and those commonly of slight +importance. The general tendency of every piece may be known; and though +that diligence deserves praise which leaves nothing unexamined, yet its +miscarriages are not much to be lamented; for the most useful truths are +always universal, and unconnected with accidents and customs. + +Such is the general conspiracy of human nature against contemporary +merit, that, if we had inherited from antiquity enough to afford +employment for the laborious, and amusement for the idle, I know not +what room would have been left for modern genius or modern industry; +almost every subject would have been pre-occupied, and every style would +have been fixed by a precedent from which few would have ventured to +depart. Every writer would have had a rival, whose superiority was +already acknowledged, and to whose fame his work would, even before it +was seen, be marked out for a sacrifice. + +We see how little the united experience of mankind hath been able to add +to the heroick characters displayed by Homer, and how few incidents the +fertile imagination of modern Italy has yet produced, which may not be +found in the Iliad and Odyssey. It is likely, that if all the works of +the Athenian philosophers had been extant, Malbranche and Locke would +have been condemned to be silent readers of the ancient metaphysicians; +and it is apparent, that, if the old writers had all remained, the Idler +could not have written a disquisition on the loss[1]. + +[1] There was a weighty meaning in that fiction of the Stoics, of a +grand periodic year, in which all events should be re-acted in the same +mode and order as before. There is nothing new under the sun. Whatever +is, or shall be, is only an imitation, or, at best, a re-production of +something that has been. The moralist who speculates on the +contingencies of human conduct can only divine the future from what has +already been acted on the earth. The philosopher, leaning on principles +which Science styles immutable, is confined within the narrow bounds of +created matter. Why then should Reason make us undervalue that +Revelation which carries us upwards to Creation's birth, and bears us +downward to a period when time shall be no longer? ED. + + + + +No. 67. SATURDAY, JULY 28, 1759. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Sir, + +In the observations which you have made on the various opinions and +pursuits of mankind, you must often, in literary conversations, have met +with men who consider dissipation as the great enemy of the intellect; +and maintain, that, in proportion as the student keeps himself within +the bounds of a settled plan, he will more certainly advance in science. + +This opinion is, perhaps, generally true; yet, when we contemplate the +inquisitive nature of the human mind, and its perpetual impatience of +all restraint, it may be doubted whether the faculties may not be +contracted by confining the attention; and whether it may not sometimes +be proper to risk the certainty of little for the chance of much. +Acquisitions of knowledge, like blazes of genius, are often fortuitous. +Those who had proposed to themselves a methodical course of reading, +light by accident on a new book, which seizes their thoughts and kindles +their curiosity, and opens an unexpected prospect, to which the way +which they had prescribed to themselves would never have conducted them. + +To enforce and illustrate my meaning, I have sent you a journal of three +days' employment, found among the papers of a late intimate +acquaintance; who, as will plainly appear, was a man of vast designs, +and of vast performances, though he sometimes designed one thing, and +performed another. I allow that the Spectator's inimitable productions +of this kind may well discourage all subsequent journalists; but, as the +subject of this is different from that of any which the Spectator has +given us, I leave it to you to publish or suppress it. + +Mem. The following three days I purpose to give up to reading; and +intend, after all the delays which have obtruded themselves upon me, to +finish my Essay on the Extent of the Mental powers; to revise my +Treatise on Logick; to begin the Epick which I have long projected; to +proceed in my perusal of the Scriptures with Grotius's Comment; and at +my leisure to regale myself with the works of classicks, ancient and +modern, and to finish my Ode to Astronomy. + +Monday.] Designed to rise at six, but, by my servant's laziness, my fire +was not lighted before eight, when I dropped into a slumber that lasted +till nine; at which time I arose, and, after breakfast, at ten, sat down +to study, purposing to begin upon my Essay; but, finding occasion to +consult a passage in Plato, was absorbed in the perusal of the Republick +till twelve. I had neglected to forbid company, and now enters Tom +Careless, who, after half an hour's chat, insisted upon my going with +him to enjoy an absurd character, that he had appointed, by an +advertisement, to meet him at a particular coffee-house. After we had +for some time entertained ourselves with him, we sallied out, designing +each to repair to his home; but, as it fell out, coming up in the street +to a man whose steel by his side declared him a butcher, we overheard +him opening an address to a genteelish sort of young lady, whom he +walked with: "Miss, though your father is master of a coal-lighter, and +you will be a great fortune, 'tis true; yet I wish I may be cut into +quarters if it is not only love, and not lucre of gain, that is my +motive for offering terms of marriage." As this lover proceeded in his +speech, he misled us the length of three streets, in admiration at the +unlimited power of the tender passion, that could soften even the heart +of a butcher. We then adjourned to a tavern, and from thence to one of +the publick gardens, where I was regaled with a most amusing variety of +men possessing great talents, so discoloured by affectation, that they +only made them eminently ridiculous; shallow things, who, by continual +dissipation, had annihilated the few ideas nature had given them, and +yet were celebrated for wonderful pretty gentlemen; young ladies +extolled for their wit, because they were handsome; illiterate empty +women as well as men, in high life, admired for their knowledge, from +their being resolutely positive; and women of real understanding so far +from pleasing the polite million, that they frightened them away, and +were left solitary. When we quitted this entertaining scene, Tom pressed +me, irresistibly, to sup with him. I reached home at twelve, and then +reflected, that, though indeed I had, by remarking various characters, +improved my insight into human nature, yet still I had neglected the +studies proposed, and accordingly took up my Treatise on Logick, to give +it the intended revisal, but found my spirits too much agitated, and +could not forbear a few satirical lines, under the title of The +Evening's Walk. + +Tuesday.] At breakfast, seeing my Ode to Astronomy lying on my desk, I +was struck with a train of ideas, that I thought might contribute to its +improvement. I immediately rang my bell to forbid all visitants, when my +servant opened the door, with, "Sir, Mr. Jeffery Gape." My cup dropped +out of one hand, and my poem out of the other. I could scarcely ask him +to sit; he told me he was going to walk, but, as there was a likelihood +of rain, he would sit with me; he said, he intended at first to have +called at Mr. Vacant's, but as he had not seen me a great while, he did +not mind coming out of his way to wait on me; I made him a bow, but +thanks for the favour stuck in my throat. I asked him if he had been to +the coffee-house; he replied, Two hours. + +Under the oppression of this dull interruption, I sat looking wishfully +at the clock; for which, to increase my satisfaction, I had chosen the +inscription, "Art is long, and life is short;" exchanging questions and +answers at long intervals, and not without some hints that the +weather-glass promised fair weather. At half an hour after three he told +me he would trespass on me for a dinner, and desired me to send to his +house for a bundle of papers, about inclosing a common upon his estate, +which he would read to me in the evening. I declared myself busy, and Mr. +Gape went away. + +Having dined, to compose my chagrin I took up Virgil, and several other +classicks, but could not calm my mind, or proceed in my scheme. At about +five I laid my hand on a Bible that lay on my table, at first with +coldness and insensibility; but was imperceptibly engaged in a close +attention to its sublime morality, and felt my heart expanded by warm +philanthropy, and exalted to dignity of sentiment. I then censured my +too great solicitude, and my disgust conceived at my acquaintance, who +had been so far from designing to offend, that he only meant to show +kindness and respect. In this strain of mind I wrote An Essay on +Benevolence, and An Elegy on Sublunary Disappointments. When I had +finished these, at eleven, I supped, and recollected how little I had +adhered to my plan, and almost questioned the possibility of pursuing +any settled and uniform design; however, I was not so far persuaded of +the truth of these suggestions, but that I resolved to try once more at +my scheme. As I observed the moon shining through my window, from a calm +and bright sky spangled with innumerable stars, I indulged a pleasing +meditation on the splendid scene, and finished my Ode to Astronomy. + +Wednesday.] Rose at seven, and employed three hours in perusal of the +Scriptures with Grotius's Comment; and after breakfast fell into +meditation concerning my projected Epick; and being in some doubt as to +the particular lives of some heroes, whom I proposed to celebrate, I +consulted Bayle and Moreri, and was engaged two hours in examining +various lives and characters, but then resolved to go to my employment. +When I was seated at my desk, and began to feel the glowing succession +of poetical ideas, my servant brought me a letter from a lawyer, +requiring my instant attendance at Gray's Inn for half an hour. I went +full of vexation, and was involved in business till eight at night; and +then, being too much fatigued to study, supped, and went to bed. + +Here my friend's Journal concludes, which, perhaps, is pretty much a +picture of the manner in which many prosecute their studies. I therefore +resolved to send it you, imagining, that, if you think it worthy of +appearing in your paper, some of your readers may receive entertainment +by recognising a resemblance between my friend's conduct and their own. +It must be left to the Idler accurately to ascertain the proper methods +of advancing in literature; but this one position, deducible from what +has been said above, may, I think, be reasonably asserted, that he who +finds himself strongly attracted to any particular study, though it may +happen to be out of his proposed scheme, if it is not trifling or +vicious, had better continue his application to it, since it is likely +that he will, with much more ease and expedition, attain that which a +warm inclination stimulates him to pursue, than that at which a +prescribed law compels him to toil.[1] + +I am, &c. + +[1] This paper, which is evidently throughout allusive to the Idler's + own broken resolutions, was the composition of Bennet Langton, for + whom Johnson cherished the fondest regard. In his admiration he + ventured even to exclaim, "Sit anima mea cum Langtono." Boswell, + iv.--ED. + + + + +No. 68. SATURDAY, AUGUST 4, 1759. + +Among the studies which have exercised the ingenious and the learned for +more than three centuries, none has been more diligently or more +successfully cultivated than the art of translation; by which the +impediments which bar the way to science are, in some measure, removed, +and the multiplicity of languages become less incommodious. + +Of every other kind of writing the ancients have left us models which +all succeeding ages have laboured to imitate; but translation may justly +be claimed by the moderns as their own. In the first ages of the world +instruction was commonly oral, and learning traditional, and what was +not written could not be translated. When alphabetical writing made the +conveyance of opinions and the transmission of events more easy and +certain, literature did not flourish in more than one country at once, +or distant nations had little commerce with each other; and those few +whom curiosity sent abroad in quest of improvement, delivered their +acquisitions in their own manner, desirous, perhaps, to be considered as +the inventors of that which they had learned from others. + +The Greeks for a time travelled into Egypt, but they translated no books +from the Egyptian language; and when the Macedonians had overthrown the +empire of Persia, the countries that became subject to Grecian dominion +studied only the Grecian literature. The books of the conquered nations, +if they had any among them, sunk into oblivion; Greece considered +herself as the mistress, if not as the parent of arts, her language +contained all that was supposed to be known, and, except the sacred +writings of the Old Testament, I know not that the library of Alexandria +adopted any thing from a foreign tongue. + +The Romans confessed themselves the scholars of the Greeks, and do not +appear to have expected, what has since happened, that the ignorance of +succeeding ages would prefer them to their teachers. Every man, who in +Rome aspired to the praise of literature, thought it necessary to learn +Greek, and had no need of versions when they could study the originals. +Translation, however, was not wholly neglected. Dramatick poems could be +understood by the people in no language but their own, and the Romans +were sometimes entertained with the tragedies of Euripides and the +comedies of Menander. Other works were sometimes attempted; in an old +scholiast there is mention of a Latin Iliad; and we have not wholly lost +Tully's version of the poem of Aratus; but it does not appear that any +man grew eminent by interpreting another, and perhaps it was more +frequent to translate for exercise or amusement, than for fame. + +The Arabs were the first nation who felt the ardour of translation: when +they had subdued the eastern provinces of the Greek empire, they found +their captives wiser than themselves, and made haste to relieve their +wants by imparted knowledge. They discovered that many might grow wise +by the labour of a few, and that improvements might be made with speed, +when they had the knowledge of former ages in their own language. They, +therefore, made haste to lay hold on medicine end philosophy, and turned +their chief authors into Arabick[1]. Whether they attempted the poets is +not known; their literary zeal was vehement, but it was short, and +probably expired before they had time to add the arts of elegance to +those of necessity. + +The study of ancient literature was interrupted in Europe by the +irruption of the Northern nations, who subverted the Roman empire, and +erected new kingdoms with new languages. It is not strange that such +confusion should suspend literary attention; those who lost, and those +who gained dominion, had immediate difficulties to encounter, and +immediate miseries to redress, and had little leisure, amidst the +violence of war, the trepidation of flight, the distresses of forced +migration, or the tumults of unsettled conquest, to inquire after +speculative truth, to enjoy the amusement of imaginary adventures, to +know the history of former ages, or study the events of any other lives. +But no sooner had this chaos of dominion sunk into order, than learning +began again to flourish in the calm of peace. When life and possessions +were secure, convenience and enjoyment were soon sought, learning was +found the highest gratification of the mind, and translation became one +of the means by which it was imparted. + +At last, by a concurrence of many causes, the European world was roused +from its lethargy; those arts which had been long obscurely studied in +the gloom of monasteries became the general favourites of mankind; every +nation vied with its neighbour for the prize of learning; the epidemical +emulation spread from south to north, and curiosity and translation +found their way to Britain. + +[1] Some popular information on the interesting subject of Arabian +Literature, is collected in the third part of Harris's Philological +Inquiries. Mr. Hallam's History of the Middle Ages is a rich storehouse +for these points.--ED. + + + + +No. 69. SATURDAY, AUGUST 11, 1759. + +He that reviews the progress of English literature, will find that +translation was very early cultivated among us, but that some +principles, either wholly erroneous or too far extended, hindered our +success from being always equal to our diligence. + +Chaucer, who is generally considered as the father of our poetry, has +left a version of Boethius on the Comforts of Philosophy, the book which +seems to have been the favourite of the middle ages, which had been +translated into Saxon by King Alfred, and illustrated with a copious +comment ascribed to Aquinas. It may be supposed that Chaucer would apply +more than common attention to an author of so much celebrity, yet he has +attempted nothing higher than a version strictly literal, and has +degraded the poetical parts to prose, that the constraint of +versification might not obstruct his zeal for fidelity. + +Caxton taught us typography about the year 1474. The first book printed +in English was a translation. Caxton was both the translator and printer +of the Destruction of Troye; a book which, in that infancy of learning, +was considered as the best account of the fabulous ages, and which, +though now driven out of notice by authors of no greater use or value, +still continued to be read in Caxton's English to the beginning of the +present century. + +Caxton proceeded as he began, and, except the poems of Gower and +Chaucer, printed nothing but translations from the French, in which the +original is so scrupulously followed, that they afford us little +knowledge of our own language: though the words are English, the phrase +is foreign. + +As learning advanced, new works were adopted into our language, but I +think with little improvement of the art of translation, though foreign +nations and other languages offered us models of a better method; till +in the age of Elizabeth we began to find that greater liberty was +necessary to elegance, and that elegance was necessary to general +reception; some essays were then made upon the Italian poets, which +deserve the praise and gratitude of posterity. + +But the old practice was not suddenly forsaken: Holland filled the +nation with literal translation; and, what is yet more strange, the same +exactness was obstinately practised in the versions of the poets. This +absurd labour of construing into rhyme was countenanced by Jonson in his +version of Horace; and whether it be that more men have learning than +genius, or that the endeavours of that time were more directed towards +knowledge than delight, the accuracy of Jonson found more imitators than +the elegance of Fairfax; and May, Sandys and Holiday, confined +themselves to the toil of rendering line for line, not indeed with equal +felicity, for May and Sandys were poets, and Holiday only a scholar and +a critick. + +Feltham appears to consider it as the established law of poetical +translation, that the lines should be neither more nor fewer than those +of the original; and so long had this prejudice prevailed, that Denham +praises Fanshaw's version of Guarini as the example of a _new and noble +way_, as the first attempt to break the boundaries of custom, and assert +the natural freedom of the Muse. + +In the general emulation of wit and genius which the festivity of the +Restoration produced, the poets shook off their constraint, and +considered translation as no longer confined to servile closeness. But +reformation is seldom the work of pure virtue or unassisted reason. +Translation was improved more by accident than conviction. The writers +of the foregoing age had at least learning equal to their genius; and, +being often more able to explain the sentiments or illustrate the +allusions of the ancients, than to exhibit their graces and transfuse +their spirit, were, perhaps, willing sometimes to conceal their want of +poetry by profusion of literature, and, therefore, translated literally, +that their fidelity might shelter their insipidity or harshness. The +wits of Charles's time had seldom more than slight and superficial +views; and their care was to hide their want of learning behind the +colours of a gay imagination; they, therefore, translated always with +freedom, sometimes with licentiousness, and, perhaps, expected that +their readers should accept sprightliness for knowledge, and consider +ignorance and mistake as the impatience and negligence of a mind too +rapid to stop at difficulties, and too elevated to descend to +minuteness. + +Thus was translation made more easy to the writer, and more delightful +to the reader; and there is no wonder if ease and pleasure have found +their advocates. The paraphrastick liberties have been almost +universally admitted; and Sherbourn, whose learning was eminent, and who +had no need of any excuse to pass slightly over obscurities, is the only +writer who, in later times, has attempted to justify or revive the +ancient severity. + +There is undoubtedly a mean to be observed. Dryden saw very early that +closeness best preserved an author's sense, and that freedom best +exhibited his spirit; he, therefore, will deserve the highest praise, +who can give a representation at once faithful and pleasing, who can +convey the same thoughts with the same graces, and who, when he +translates, changes nothing but the language[1]. + +[1] Much research on this branch of literature is exhibited in Lord + Woodhouselee's Principles of Translation. + + + + +No. 70. SATURDAY, AUGUST 18, 1759. + +Few faults of style, whether real or imaginary, excite the malignity of +a more numerous class of readers, than the use of hard words. + +If an author be supposed to involve his thoughts in voluntary obscurity, +and to obstruct, by unnecessary difficulties, a mind eager in pursuit of +truth; if he writes not to make others learned, but to boast the +learning which he possesses himself, and wishes to be admired rather +than understood, he counteracts the first end of writing, and justly +suffers the utmost severity of censure, or the more afflictive severity +of neglect. + +But words are hard only to those who do not understand them; and the +critick ought always to inquire, whether he is incommoded by the fault +of the writer or by his own. + +Every author does not write for every reader; many questions are such as +the illiterate part of mankind can have neither interest nor pleasure in +discussing, and which, therefore, it would be an useless endeavour to +level with common minds, by tiresome circumlocutions or laborious +explanations; and many subjects of general use may be treated in a +different manner, as the book is intended for the learned or the +ignorant. Diffusion and explication are necessary to the instruction of +those who, being neither able nor accustomed to think for themselves, +can learn only what is expressly taught; but they who can form +parallels, discover consequences, and multiply conclusions, are best +pleased with involution of argument and compression of thought; they +desire only to receive the seeds of knowledge which they may branch out +by their own power, to have the way to truth pointed out, which they can +then follow without a guide. + +The Guardian directs one of his pupils, "to think with the wise, but +speak with the vulgar." This is a precept specious enough, but not +always practicable. Difference of thoughts will produce difference of +language. He that thinks with more extent than another will want words +of larger meaning; he that thinks with more subtilty will seek for terms +of more nice discrimination; and where is the wonder, since words are +but the images of things, that he who never knew the original should not +know the copies? + +Yet vanity inclines us to find faults any where rather than in +ourselves. He that reads and grows no wiser, seldom suspects his own +deficiency; but complains of hard words and obscure sentences, and asks +why books are written which cannot be understood? + +Among the hard words which are no longer to be used, it has been long +the custom to number terms of art. "Every man," says Swift, "is more +able to explain the subject of an art than its professors; a farmer will +tell you, in two words, that he has broken his leg; but a surgeon, after +a long discourse, shall leave you as ignorant as you were before." This +could only have been said, by such an exact observer of life, in +gratification of malignity, or in ostentation of acuteness. Every hour +produces instances of the necessity of terms of art. Mankind could never +conspire in uniform affectation; it is not but by necessity that every +science and every trade has its peculiar language. They that content +themselves with general ideas may rest in general terms; but those, +whose studies or employments force them upon closer inspection, must +have names for particular parts, and words by which they may express +various modes of combination, such as none but themselves have occasion +to consider. + +Artists are indeed sometimes ready to suppose that none can be strangers +to words to which themselves are familiar, talk to an incidental +inquirer as they talk to one another, and make their knowledge +ridiculous by injudicious obtrusion. An art cannot be taught but by its +proper terms, but it is not always necessary to teach the art. + +That the vulgar express their thoughts clearly, is far from true; and +what perspicuity can be found among them proceeds not from the easiness +of their language, but the shallowness of their thoughts. He that sees a +building as a common spectator, contents himself with relating that it +is great or little, mean or splendid, lofty or low; all these words are +intelligible and common, but they convey no distinct or limited ideas; +if he attempts, without the terms of architecture, to delineate the +parts, or enumerate the ornaments, his narration at once becomes +unintelligible. The terms, indeed, generally displease, because they are +understood by few; but they are little understood, only because few that +look upon an edifice examine its parts, or analyze its columns into +their members. + +The state of every other art is the same; as it is cursorily surveyed or +accurately examined, different forms of expression become proper. In +morality it is one thing to discuss the niceties of the casuist, and +another to direct the practice of common life. In agriculture, he that +instructs the farmer to plough and sow, may convey his notions without +the words which he would find necessary in explaining to philosophers +the process of vegetation; and if he, who has nothing to do but to be +honest by the shortest way, will perplex his mind with subtile +speculations; or if he, whose task is to reap and thrash, will not be +contented without examining the evolution of the seed and circulation of +the sap; the writers whom either shall consult are very little to be +blamed, though it should sometimes happen that they are read in vain. + + + + +No. 71. SATURDAY, AUGUST 25, 1759. + + Celan le selve angui, leoni, ed orsi + Dentro il lor verde. TASSO, L'AMINTA. + +Dick Shifter was born in Cheapside, and, having passed reputably through +all the classes of St. Paul's school, has been for some years a student +in the Temple. He is of opinion, that intense application dulls the +faculties, and thinks it necessary to temper the severity of the law by +books that engage the mind, but do not fatigue it. He has, therefore, +made a copious collection of plays, poems, and romances, to which he has +recourse when he fancies himself tired with statutes and reports; and he +seldom inquires very nicely whether he is weary or idle. + +Dick has received from his favourite authors very strong impressions of +a country life; and though his furthest excursions have been to +Greenwich on one side, and Chelsea on the other, he has talked for +several years, with great pomp of language and elevation of sentiments, +about a state too high for contempt and too low for envy, about homely +quiet and blameless simplicity, pastoral delights and rural innocence. + +His friends, who, had estates in the country, often invited him to pass +the summer among them, but something or other had always hindered him; +and he considered, that to reside in the house of another man was to +incur a kind of dependence inconsistent with that laxity of life which +he had imaged as the chief good. + +This summer he resolved to be happy, and procured a lodging to be taken +for him at a solitary house, situated about thirty miles from London, on +the banks of a small river, with corn-fields before it and a hill on +each side covered with wood. He concealed the place of his retirement, +that none might violate his obscurity, and promised himself many a happy +day when he should hide himself among the trees, and contemplate the +tumults and vexations of the town. + +He stepped into the post-chaise with his heart beating and his eyes +sparkling, was conveyed through many varieties of delightful prospects, +saw hills and meadows, cornfields and pasture, succeed each other, and +for four hours charged none of his poets with fiction or exaggeration. +He was now within six miles of happiness, when, having never felt so +much agitation before, he began to wish his journey at an end, and the +last hour was passed in changing his posture and quarrelling with his +driver. + +An hour may be tedious, but cannot be long. He at length alighted at his +new dwelling, and was received as he expected; he looked round upon the +hills and rivulets, but his joints were stiff and his muscles sore, and +his first request was to see his bed-chamber. + +He rested well, and ascribed the soundness of his sleep to the stillness +of the country. He expected from that time nothing but nights of quiet +and days of rapture, and, as soon as he had risen, wrote an account of +his new state to one of his friends in the Temple. + +"Dear Frank, + +"I never pitied thee before. I am now, as I could wish every man of +wisdom and virtue to be, in the regions of calm content and placid +meditation; with all the beauties of nature soliciting my notice, and +all the diversities of pleasure courting my acceptance; the birds are +chirping in the hedges, and the flowers blooming in the mead; the breeze +is whistling in the wood, and the sun dancing on the water. I can now +say, with truth, that a man, capable of enjoying the purity of +happiness, is never more busy than in his hours of leisure, nor ever +less solitary than in a place of solitude. + +I am, dear Frank, &c." + +When he had sent away his letter, he walked into the wood, with some +inconvenience, from the furze that pricked his legs, and the briars that +scratched his face. He at last sat down under a tree, and heard with +great delight a shower, by which he was not wet, rattling among the +branches: This, said he, is the true image of obscurity; we hear of +troubles and commotions, but never feel them. + +His amusement did not overpower the calls of nature, and he, therefore, +went back to order his dinner. He knew that the country produces +whatever is eaten or drunk, and, imagining that he was now at the source +of luxury, resolved to indulge himself with dainties which he supposed +might be procured at a price next to nothing, if any price at all was +expected; and intended to amaze the rusticks with his generosity, by +paying more than they would ask. Of twenty dishes which he named, he was +amazed to find that scarcely one was to be had; and heard, with +astonishment and indignation, that all the fruits of the earth were sold +at a higher price than in the streets of London. + +His meal was short and sullen; and he retired again to his tree, to +inquire how dearness could be consistent with abundance, or how fraud +should be practised by simplicity. He was not satisfied with his own +speculations, and, returning home early in the evening, went a while +from window to window, and found that he wanted something to do. + +He inquired for a newspaper, and was told that farmers never minded +news, but that they could send for it from the alehouse. A messenger was +despatched, who ran away at full speed, but loitered an hour behind the +hedges, and at last coming back with his feet purposely bemired, instead +of expressing the gratitude which Mr. Shifter expected for the bounty of +a shilling, said, that the night was wet, and the way dirty, and he +hoped that his worship would not think it much to give him half-a-crown. + +Dick now went to bed with some abatement of his expectations; but sleep, +I know not how, revives our hopes, and rekindles our desires. He rose +early in the morning, surveyed the landscape, and was pleased. He walked +out, and passed from field to field, without observing any beaten path, +and wondered that he had not seen the shepherdesses dancing, nor heard +the swains piping to their flocks. + +At last he saw some reapers and harvest-women at dinner. Here, said he, +are the true Arcadians; and advanced courteously towards them, as afraid +of confusing them by the dignity of his presence. They acknowledged his +superiority by no other token than that of asking him for something to +drink. He imagined that he had now purchased the privilege of discourse, +and began to descend to familiar questions, endeavouring to accommodate +his discourse to the grossness of rustick understandings. The clowns +soon found, that he did not know wheat from rye, and began to despise +him; one of the boys, by pretending to show him a bird's nest, decoyed +him into a ditch; and one of the wenches sold him a bargain. + +This walk had given him no great pleasure; but he hoped to find other +rusticks less coarse of manners, and less mischievous of disposition. +Next morning he was accosted by an attorney, who told him that, unless +he made farmer Dobson satisfaction for trampling his grass, he had +orders to indict him. Shifter was offended, but not terrified; and, +telling the attorney that he was himself a lawyer, talked so volubly of +pettyfoggers and barrators, that he drove him away. + +Finding his walks thus interrupted, he was inclined to ride, and, being +pleased with the appearance of a horse that was grazing in a +neighbouring meadow, inquired the owner, who warranted him sound, and +would not sell him, but that he was too fine for a plain man. Dick paid +down the price, and, riding out to enjoy the evening, fell with his new +horse into a ditch; they got out with difficulty, and, as he was going +to mount again, a countryman looked at the horse, and perceived him to +be blind. Dick went to the seller, and demanded back his money; but was +told, that a man who rented his ground must do the best for himself; +that his landlord had his rent though the year was barren; and that, +whether horses had eyes or no, he should sell them to the highest +bidder. + +Shifter now began to be tired with rustick simplicity, and on the fifth +day took possession again of his chambers, and bade farewell to the +regions of calm content and placid meditation. + + + + +No. 72. SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 1, 1759. + +Men complain of nothing more frequently than of deficient memory; and, +indeed, every one finds that many of the ideas which he desired to +retain have slipped irretrievably away; that the acquisitions of the +mind are sometimes equally fugitive with the gifts of fortune; and that +a short intermission of attention more certainly lessens knowledge than +impairs an estate. + +To assist this weakness of our nature, many methods have been proposed, +all of which may be justly suspected of being ineffectual; for no art of +memory, however its effects have been boasted or admired, has been ever +adopted into general use, nor have those who possessed it appeared to +excel others in readiness of recollection or multiplicity of +attainments. + +There is another art of which all have felt the want, though +Themistocles only confessed it. We suffer equal pain from the +pertinacious adhesion of unwelcome images, as from the evanescence of +those which are pleasing and useful; and it may be doubted whether we +should be more benefited by the art of memory or the art of +forgetfulness. + +Forgetfulness is necessary to remembrance. Ideas are retained by +renovation of that impression which time is always wearing away, and +which new images are striving to obliterate. If useless thoughts could +be expelled from the mind, all the valuable parts of our knowledge would +more frequently recur, and every recurrence would reinstate them in +their former place. + +It is impossible to consider, without some regret, how much might have +been learned, or how much might have been invented, by a rational and +vigorous application of time, uselessly or painfully passed in the +revocation of events, which have left neither good nor evil behind them, +in grief for misfortunes either repaired or irreparable, in resentment +of injuries known only to ourselves, of which death has put the authors +beyond our power. + +Philosophy has accumulated precept upon precept, to warn us against the +anticipation of future calamities. All useless misery is certainly +folly, and he that feels evils before they come may be deservedly +censured; yet surely to dread the future is more reasonable than to +lament the past. The business of life is to go forwards: he who sees +evil in prospect meets it in his way; but he who catches it by +retrospection turns back to find it. That which is feared may sometimes +be avoided, but that which is regretted to-day may be regretted again +to-morrow. + +Regret is indeed useful and virtuous, and not only allowable but +necessary, when it tends to the amendment of life, or to admonition of +errour which we may be again in danger of committing. But a very small +part of the moments spent in meditation on the past, produce any +reasonable caution or salutary sorrow. Most of the mortifications that +we have suffered, arose from the concurrence of local and temporary +circumstances, which can never meet again; and most of our +disappointments have succeeded those expectations, which life allows not +to be formed a second time. + +It would add much to human happiness, if an art could be taught of +forgetting all of which the remembrance is at once useless and +afflictive; if that pain which never can end in pleasure could be driven +totally away, that the mind might perform its functions without +incumbrance, and the past might no longer encroach upon the present. + +Little can be done well to which the whole mind is not applied; the +business of every day calls for the day to which it is assigned; and he +will have no leisure to regret yesterday's vexations who resolves not to +have a new subject of regret to-morrow. + +But to forget or to remember at pleasure, are equally beyond the power +of man. Yet as memory may be assisted by method, and the decays of +knowledge repaired by stated times of recollection, so the power of +forgetting is capable of improvement. Reason will, by a resolute +contest, prevail over imagination, and the power may be obtained of +transferring the attention as judgment shall direct. + +The incursions of troublesome thoughts are often violent and +importunate; and it is not easy to a mind accustomed to their inroads to +expel them immediately by putting better images into motion; but this +enemy of quiet is above all others weakened by every defeat; the +reflection which has been once overpowered and ejected, seldom returns +with any formidable vehemence. + +Employment is the great instrument of intellectual dominion. The mind +cannot retire from its enemy into total vacancy, or turn aside from one +object but by passing to another. The gloomy and the resentful are +always found among those who have nothing to do, or who do nothing. We +must be busy about good or evil, and he to whom the present offers +nothing will often be looking backward on the past. + + + + +No. 73. SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 8, 1759. + + That every man would be rich if a wish could obtain riches, is a +position which I believe few will contest, at least in a nation like +ours, in which commerce has kindled an universal emulation of wealth, +and in which money receives all the honours which are the proper right +of knowledge and of virtue. + +Yet, though we are all labouring for gold as for the chief good, and, by +the natural effort of unwearied diligence, have found many expeditious +methods of obtaining it, we have not been able to improve the art of +using it, or to make it produce more happiness than it afforded in +former times, when every declaimer expatiated on its mischiefs, and +every philosopher taught his followers to despise it. + +Many of the dangers imputed of old to exorbitant wealth, are now at an +end. The rich are neither waylaid by robbers, nor watched by informers; +there is nothing to be dreaded from proscriptions, or seizures. The +necessity of concealing treasure has long ceased; no man now needs +counterfeit mediocrity, and condemn his plate and jewels to caverns and +darkness, or feast his mind with the consciousness of clouded splendour, +of finery which is useless till it is shown, and which he dares not +show. + +In our time, the poor are strongly tempted to assume the appearance of +wealth, but the wealthy very rarely desire to be thought poor; for we +are all at full liberty to display riches by every mode of ostentation. +We fill our houses with useless ornaments, only to show that we can buy +them; we cover our coaches with gold, and employ artists in the +discovery of new fashions of expense; and yet it cannot be found that +riches produce happiness. + +Of riches, as of every thing else, the hope is more than the enjoyment: +while we consider them as the means to be used, at some future time, for +the attainment of felicity, we press on our pursuit ardently and +vigorously, and that ardour secures us from weariness of ourselves; but +no sooner do we sit down to enjoy our acquisitions, than we find them +insufficient to fill up the vacuities of life. + +One cause which is not always observed of the insufficiency of riches +is, that they very seldom make their owner rich. To be rich, is to have +more than is desired, and more than is wanted, to have something which +may be spent without reluctance, and scattered without care, with which +the sudden demands of desire may be gratified, the casual freaks of +fancy indulged, or the unexpected opportunities of benevolence improved. + +Avarice is always poor, but poor by her own fault. There is another +poverty to which the rich are exposed with less guilt by the +officiousness of others. Every man, eminent for exuberance of fortune, +is surrounded from morning to evening, and from evening to midnight, by +flatterers, whose art of adulation consists in exciting artificial +wants, and in forming new schemes of profusion. + +Tom Tranquil, when he came to age, found himself in possession of a +fortune, of which the twentieth part might perhaps have made him rich. +His temper is easy, and his affections soft; he receives every man with +kindness, and hears him with credulity. His friends took care to settle +him by giving him a wife, whom, having no particular inclination, he +rather accepted than chose, because he was told that she was proper for +him. + +He was now to live with dignity proportionate to his fortune. What his +fortune requires or admits Tom does not know, for he has little skill in +computation, and none of his friends think it their interest to improve +it. If he was suffered to live by his own choice, he would leave every +thing as he finds it, and pass through the world distinguished only by +inoffensive gentleness. But the ministers of luxury have marked him out +as one at whose expense they may exercise their arts. A companion, who +had just learned the names of the Italian masters, runs from sale to +sale, and buys pictures, for which Mr. Tranquil pays, without inquiring +where they shall be hung. Another fills his garden with statues, which +Tranquil wishes away, but dares not remove. One of his friends is +learning architecture by building him a house, which he passed by, and +inquired to whom it belonged; another has been for three years digging +canals and raising mounts, cutting trees down in one place, and planting +them in another, on which Tranquil looks with a serene indifference, +without asking what will be the cost. Another projector tells him that a +waterwork, like that of Versailles, will complete the beauties of his +seat, and lays his draughts before him: Tranquil turns his eyes upon +them, and the artist begins his explanations; Tranquil raises no +objections, but orders him to begin the work, that he may escape from +talk which he does not understand. + +Thus a thousand hands are busy at his expense, without adding to his +pleasures. He pays and receives visits, and has loitered in publick or +in solitude, talking in summer of the town, and in winter of the +country, without knowing that his fortune is impaired, till his steward +told him this morning, that he could pay the workmen no longer but by +mortgaging a manor. + + + + +No. 74. SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 15, 1759. + +In the mythological pedigree of learning, memory is made the mother of +the muses, by which the masters of ancient wisdom, perhaps, meant to +show the necessity of storing the mind copiously with true notions, +before the imagination should be suffered to form fictions or collect +embellishments; for the works of an ignorant poet can afford nothing +higher than pleasing sound, and fiction is of no other use than to +display the treasures of memory. + +The necessity of memory to the acquisition of knowledge is inevitably +felt and universally allowed, so that scarcely any other of the mental +faculties are commonly considered as necessary to a student: he that +admires the proficiency of another, always attributes it to the +happiness of his memory; and he that laments his own defects, concludes +with a wish that his memory was better. + +It is evident, that when the power of retention is weak, all the +attempts at eminence of knowledge must be vain; and as few are willing +to be doomed to perpetual ignorance, I may, perhaps, afford consolation +to some that have fallen too easily into despondence, by observing that +such weakness is, in my opinion, very rare, and that few have reason to +complain of nature as unkindly sparing of the gifts of memory. + +In the common business of life, we find the memory of one like that of +another, and honestly impute omissions not to involuntary forgetfulness, +but culpable inattention; but in literary inquiries, failure is imputed +rather to want of memory than of diligence. + +We consider ourselves as defective in memory, either because we remember +less than we desire, or less than we suppose others to remember. + +Memory is like all other human powers, with which no man can be +satisfied who measures them by what he can conceive, or by what he can +desire. He whose mind is most capacious, finds it much too narrow for +his wishes; he that remembers most, remembers little compared with what +he forgets. He, therefore, that, after the perusal of a book, finds few +ideas remaining in his mind, is not to consider the disappointment as +peculiar to himself, or to resign all hopes of improvement, because he +does not retain what even the author has, perhaps, forgotten. + +He who compares his memory with that of others, is often too hasty to +lament the inequality. Nature has sometimes, indeed, afforded examples +of enormous, wonderful and gigantick memory. Scaliger reports of +himself, that, in his youth, he could repeat above a hundred verses, +having once read them; and Barthicus declares, that he wrote his comment +upon Claudian without consulting the text. But not to have such degrees +of memory is no more to be lamented, than not to have the strength of +Hercules, or the swiftness of Achilles. He that, in the distribution of +good, has an equal share with common men, may justly be contented. Where +there is no striking disparity, it is difficult to know of two which +remembers most, and still more difficult to discover which reads with +greater attention, which has renewed the first impression by more +frequent repetitions, or by what accidental combination of ideas either +mind might have united any particular narrative or argument to its +former stock. + +But memory, however impartially distributed, so often deceives our +trust, that almost every man attempts, by some artifice or other, to +secure its fidelity. + +It is the practice of many readers to note, in the margin of their +books, the most important passages, the strongest arguments, or the +brightest sentiments. Thus they load their minds with superfluous +attention, repress the vehemence of curiosity by useless deliberation, +and by frequent interruption break the current of narration or the chain +of reason, and at last close the volume, and forget the passages and +marks together. + +Others I have found unalterably persuaded, that nothing is certainly +remembered but what is transcribed; and they have, therefore, passed +weeks and months in transferring large quotations to a commonplace-book. +Yet, why any part of a book, which can be consulted at pleasure, should +be copied, I was never able to discover. The hand has no closer +correspondence with the memory than the eye. The act of writing itself +distracts the thoughts, and what is read twice is commonly better +remembered than what is transcribed. This method, therefore, consumes +time without assisting memory. + +The true art of memory is the art of attention. No man will read with +much advantage, who is not able, at pleasure, to evacuate his mind, or +who brings not to his author an intellect defecated and pure, neither +turbid with care, nor agitated by pleasure. If the repositories of +thought are already full, what can they receive? If the mind is employed +on the past or future, the book will be held before the eyes in vain. +What is read with delight is commonly retained, because pleasure always +secures attention; but the books which are consulted by occasional +necessity, and perused with impatience, seldom leave any traces on the +mind. + + + + +No. 75. SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 22, 1759. + +In the time when Bassora was considered as the school of Asia, and +flourished by the reputation of its professors and the confluence of its +students, among the pupils that listened round the chair of Albumazar +was Gelaleddin, a native of Tauris, in Persia, a young man amiable in +his manners and beautiful in his form, of boundless curiosity, incessant +diligence, and irresistible genius, of quick apprehension and tenacious +memory, accurate without narrowness, and eager for novelty without +inconstancy. + +No sooner did Gelaleddin appear at Bassora, than his virtues and +abilities raised him to distinction. He passed from class to class +rather admired than envied by those whom the rapidity of his progress +left behind; he was consulted by his fellow-students as an oraculous +guide, and admitted as a competent auditor to the conferences of the +sages. + +After a few years, having passed through all the exercises of probation, +Gelaleddin was invited to a professor's seat, and entreated to increase +the splendour of Bassora. Gelaleddin affected to deliberate on the +proposal, with which, before he considered it, he resolved to comply; +and next morning retired to a garden planted for the recreation of the +students, and, entering a solitary walk, began to meditate upon his +future life. + +"If I am thus eminent," said he, "in the regions of literature, I shall +be yet more conspicuous in any other place; if I should now devote +myself to study and retirement, I must pass my life in silence, +unacquainted with the delights of wealth, the influence of power, the +pomp of greatness, and the charms of elegance, with all that man envies +and desires, with all that keeps the world in motion, by the hope of +gaining or the fear of losing it. I will, therefore, depart to Tauris, +where the Persian monarch resides in all the splendour of absolute +dominion: my reputation will fly before me, my arrival will be +congratulated by my kinsmen and my friends; I shall see the eyes of +those who predict my greatness sparkling with exultation, and the faces +of those that once despised me clouded with envy, or counterfeiting +kindness by artificial smiles. I will show my wisdom by my discourse, +and my moderation by my silence; I will instruct the modest with easy +gentleness, and repress the ostentatious by seasonable superciliousness. +My apartments will be crowded by the inquisitive and the vain, by those +that honour and those that rival me; my name will soon reach the court; +I shall stand before the throne of the emperour: the judges of the law +will confess my wisdom, and the nobles will contend to heap gifts upon +me. If I shall find that my merit, like that of others, excites +malignity, or feel myself tottering on the seat of elevation, I may at +last retire to academical obscurity, and become, in my lowest state, a +professor of Bassora." + +Having thus settled his determination, he declared to his friends his +design of visiting Tauris, and saw with more pleasure than he ventured +to express, the regret with which he was dismissed. He could not bear to +delay the honours to which he was destined, and, therefore, hastened +away, and in a short time entered the capital of Persia. He was +immediately immersed in the crowd, and passed unobserved to his father's +house. He entered, and was received, though not unkindly, yet without +any excess of fondness or exclamations of rapture. His father had, in +his absence, suffered many losses, and Gelaleddin was considered as an +additional burden to a falling family. + +When he recovered from his surprise, he began to display his +acquisitions, and practised all the arts of narration and disquisition: +but the poor have no leisure to be pleased with eloquence; they heard +his arguments without reflection, and his pleasantries without a smile. +He then applied himself singly to his brothers and sisters, but found +them all chained down by invariable attention to their own fortunes, and +insensible of any other excellence than that which could bring some +remedy for indigence. + +It was now known in the neighbourhood that Gelaleddin was returned, and +he sat for some days in expectation that the learned would visit him for +consultation, or the great for entertainment. But who will be pleased or +instructed in the mansions of poverty? He then frequented places of +publick resort, and endeavoured to attract notice by the copiousness of +his talk. The sprightly were silenced, and went away to censure, in some +other place, his arrogance and his pedantry; and the dull listened +quietly for a while, and then wondered why any man should take pains to +obtain so much knowledge which would never do him good. + +He next solicited the visiers for employment, not doubting but his +service would be eagerly accepted. He was told by one that there was no +vacancy in his office; by another, that his merit was above any +patronage but that of the emperour; by a third, that he would not forget +him; and by the chief visier, that he did not think literature of any +great use in publick business. He was sometimes admitted to their +tables, where he exerted his wit and diffused his knowledge; but he +observed, that where, by endeavour or accident, he had remarkably +excelled, he was seldom invited a second time. + +He now returned to Bassora, wearied and disgusted, but confident of +resuming his former rank, and revelling again in satiety of praise. But +he who had been neglected at Tauris, was not much regarded at Bassora; +he was considered as a fugitive, who returned only because he could live +in no other place; his companions found that they had formerly overrated +his abilities, and he lived long without notice or esteem. + + + + +No. 76. SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 29, 1759. + +TO THE IDLER, + +Sir, + +I was much pleased with your ridicule of those shallow criticks, whose +judgment, though often right as far as it goes, yet reaches only to +inferior beauties, and who, unable to comprehend the whole, judge only +by parts, and from thence determine the merit of extensive works. But +there is another kind of critick still worse, who judges by narrow +rules, and those too often false, and which, though they should be true, +and founded on nature, will lead him but a very little way toward the +just estimation of the sublime beauties in works of genius; for whatever +part of an art can be executed or criticised by rules, that part is no +longer the work of genius, which implies excellence out of the reach of +rules. For my own part, I profess myself an Idler, and love to give my +judgment, such as it is, from my immediate perceptions, without much +fatigue of thinking; and I am of opinion that, if a man has not those +perceptions right, it will be vain for him to endeavour to supply their +place by rules, which may enable him to talk more learnedly, but not to +distinguish more acutely. Another reason which has lessened my affection +for the study of criticism is, that criticks, so far as I have observed, +debar themselves from receiving any pleasure from the polite arts, at +the same time, that they profess to love and admire them: for these +rules, being always uppermost, give them such a propensity to criticise, +that, instead of giving up the reins of their imagination into their +author's hands, their frigid minds are employed in examining whether the +performance be according to the rules of art. + +To those who are resolved to be criticks in spite of nature, and, at the +same time, have no great disposition to much reading and study, I would +recommend to them to assume the character of connoisseur, which may be +purchased at a much cheaper rate than that of a critick in poetry. The +remembrance of a few names of painters, with their general characters, +with a few rules of the academy, which they may pick up among the +painters, will go a great way towards making a very notable connoisseur. + +With a gentleman of this cast, I visited last week the Cartoons at +Hampton-court; he was just returned from Italy, a connoisseur of course, +and of course his mouth full of nothing but the grace of Raffaelle, the +purity of Domenichino, the learning of Poussin, the air of Guido, the +greatness of taste of the Carraccis, and the sublimity and grand +contorno of Michael Angelo; with all the rest of the cant of criticism, +which he emitted with that volubility which generally those orators have +who annex no ideas to their words. + +As we were passing through the rooms, in our way to the gallery, I made +him observe a whole length of Charles the First by Vandyke, as a perfect +representation of the character as well as the figure of the man. He +agreed it was very fine, but it wanted spirit and contrast, and had not +the flowing line, without which a figure could not possibly be graceful. +When we entered the gallery, I thought I could perceive him recollecting +his rules by which he was to criticise Raffaelle. I shall pass over his +observation of the boats being too little, and other criticisms of that +kind, till we arrive at St. Paul preaching. + +"This," says he, "is esteemed the most excellent of all the cartoons; +what nobleness, what dignity, there is in that figure of St. Paul! and +yet what an addition to that nobleness could Raffaelle have given, had +the art of contrast been known in his time! but, above all, the flowing +line which constitutes grace and beauty! You would not have then seen an +upright figure standing equally on both legs, and both hands stretched +forward in the same direction, and his drapery, to all appearance, +without the least art of disposition." The following picture is the +Charge to Peter. "Here," says he, "are twelve upright figures; what a +pity it is that Raffaelle was not acquainted with the pyramidal +principle! He would then have contrived the figures in the middle to +have been on higher ground, or the figures at the extremities stooping +or lying, which would not only have formed the group into the shape of a +pyramid, but likewise contrasted the standing figures. Indeed," added +he, "I have often lamented that so great a genius as Raffaelle had not +lived in this enlightened age, since the art has been reduced to +principles, and had had his education in one of the modern academies; +what glorious works might we have then expected from his divine pencil!" + +I shall trouble you no longer with my friend's observations, which, I +suppose, you are now able to continue by yourself. It is curious to +observe, that, at the same time that great admiration is pretended for a +name of fixed reputation, objections are raised against those very +qualities by which that great name was acquired. + +Those criticks are continually lamenting that Raffaelle had not the +colouring and harmony of Rubens, or the light and shadow of Rembrant, +without considering how much the gay harmony of the former, and +affectation of the latter, would take from the dignity of Raffaelle; and +yet Rubens had great harmony, and Rembrant understood light and shadow: +but what may be an excellence in a lower class of painting, becomes a +blemish in a higher; as the quick, sprightly turn, which is the life and +beauty of epigrammatick compositions, would but ill suit with the +majesty of heroick poetry. + +To conclude; I would not be thought to infer, from any thing that has +been said, that rules are absolutely unnecessary; but to censure +scrupulosity, a servile attention to minute exactness, which is +sometimes inconsistent with higher excellency, and is lost in the blaze +of expanded genius. + +I do not know whether you will think painting a general subject. By +inserting this letter, perhaps, you will incur the censure a man would +deserve, whose business being to entertain a whole room, should turn his +back to the company, and talk to a particular person[1]. + +I am, Sir, &c. + +[1] By Sir Joshua Reynolds. + + + + +No. 77. SATURDAY, OCTOBER 6, 1759. + +Easy poetry is universally admired; but I know not whether any rule has +yet been fixed, by which it may be decided when poetry can be properly +called easy. Horace has told us, that it is such as "every reader hopes +to equal, but after long labour finds unattainable." This is a very +loose description, in which only the effect is noted; the qualities +which produce this effect remain to be investigated. + +Easy poetry is that in which natural thoughts are expressed without +violence to the language. The discriminating character of ease consists +principally in the diction; for all true poetry requires that the +sentiments be natural. Language suffers violence by harsh or by daring +figures, by transposition, by unusual acceptations of words, and by any +licence, which would be avoided by a writer of prose. Where any artifice +appears in the construction of the verse, that verse is no longer easy. +Any epithet which can be ejected without diminution of the sense, any +curious iteration of the same word, and all unusual, though not +ungrammatical structure of speech, destroy the grace of easy poetry. + +The first lines of Pope's Iliad afford examples of many licences which +an easy writer must decline: + + Achilles' _wrath_, to Greece the _direful spring_ + Of woes unnumber'd, _heav'nly_ Goddess sing; + The wrath which _hurl'd_ to Pluto's _gloomy reign_ + The souls of _mighty_ chiefs untimely slain. + +In the first couplet the language is distorted by inversions, clogged +with superfluities, and clouded by a harsh metaphor; and in the second +there are two words used in an uncommon sense, and two epithets inserted +only to lengthen the line; all these practices may in a long work easily +be pardoned, but they always produce some degree of obscurity and +ruggedness. + +Easy poetry has been so long excluded by ambition of ornament, and +luxuriance of imagery, that its nature seems now to be forgotten. +Affectation, however opposite to ease, is sometimes mistaken for it; and +those who aspire to gentle elegance, collect female phrases and +fashionable barbarisms, and imagine that style to be easy which custom +has made familiar. Such was the idea of the poet who wrote the following +verses to a _countess cutting paper_: + + Pallas grew _vap'rish once and odd_, + She would not _do the least right thing_ + Either for Goddess or for God, + Nor work, nor play, nor paint, nor sing. + + Jove frown'd, and "Use (he cried) those eyes + So skilful, and those hands so taper; + Do something exquisite and wise"-- + She bow'd, obey'd him, and cut paper. + + This vexing him who gave her birth, + Thought by all Heaven a _burning shame_, + _What does she next_, but bids on earth + Her Burlington do just the same? + + Pallas, you give yourself _strange airs_; + But sure you'll find it hard to spoil + The sense and taste of one that bears + The name of Savile and of Boyle. + + Alas! one bad example shown, + How quickly all the sex pursue! + See, madam! see the arts o'erthrown + Between John Overton and _you_. + +It is the prerogative of easy poetry to be understood as long as the +language lasts; but modes of speech, which owe their prevalence only to +modish folly, or to the eminence of those that use them, die away with +their inventors, and their meaning, in a few years, is no longer known. + +Easy poetry is commonly sought in petty compositions upon minute +subjects; but ease, though it excludes pomp, will admit greatness. Many +lines in Cato's soliloquy are at once easy and sublime: + + 'Tis the Divinity that stirs within us; + 'Tis Heaven itself that points out an hereafter, + And intimates eternity to man. + --If there's a Power above us, + And that there is all Nature cries aloud + Through all her works, he must delight in virtue, + And that which he delights in must be happy. + +Nor is ease more contrary to wit than to sublimity; the celebrated +stanza of Cowley, on a lady elaborately dressed, loses nothing of its +freedom by the spirit of the sentiment: + + Th' adorning thee with so much art + Is but a barb'rous skill; + 'Tis like the pois'ning of a dart, + Too apt before to kill. + +Cowley seems to have possessed the power of writing easily beyond any +other of our poets; yet his pursuit of remote thought led him often into +harshness of expression. + +Waller often attempted, but seldom attained it; for he is too frequently +driven into transpositions. The poets, from the time of Dryden, have +gradually advanced in embellishment, and consequently departed from +simplicity and ease. + +To require from any author many pieces of easy poetry, would be indeed +to oppress him with too hard a task. It is less difficult to write a +volume of lines swelled with epithets, brightened by figures, and +stiffened by transpositions, than to produce a few couplets graced only +by naked elegance and simple purity, which require so much care and +skill, that I doubt whether any of our authors have yet been able, for +twenty lines together, nicely to observe the true definition of easy +poetry. + + + + +No. 78. SATURDAY, OCTOBER 13, 1759. + + I have passed the summer in one of those places to which a mineral +spring gives the idle and luxurious an annual reason for resorting, +whenever they fancy themselves offended by the heat of London. What is +the true motive of this periodical assembly, I have never yet been able +to discover. The greater part of the visitants neither feel diseases nor +fear them. What pleasure can be expected more than the variety of the +journey, I know not, for the numbers are too great for privacy, and too +small for diversion. As each is known to be a spy upon the rest, they +all live in continual restraint; and having but a narrow range for +censure, they gratify its cravings by preying on one another. + +But every condition has some advantages. In this confinement, a smaller +circle affords opportunities for more exact observation. The glass that +magnifies its object contracts the sight to a point; and the mind must +be fixed upon a single character to remark its minute peculiarities. The +quality or habit which passes unobserved in the tumult of successive +multitudes, becomes conspicuous when it is offered to the notice day +after day; and, perhaps, I have, without any distinct notice, seen +thousands like my late companions; for when the scene can be varied at +pleasure, a slight disgust turns us aside before a deep impression can +be made upon the mind. + +There was a select set, supposed to be distinguished by superiority of +intellects, who always passed the evening together. To be admitted to +their conversation was the highest honour of the place; many youths +aspired to distinction, by pretending to occasional invitations; and the +ladies were often wishing to be men, that they might partake the +pleasures of learned society. + +I know not whether by merit or destiny, I was, soon after my arrival, +admitted to this envied party, which I frequented till I had learned the +art by which each endeavoured to support his character. + +Tom Steady was a vehement assertor of uncontroverted truth; and by +keeping himself out of the reach of contradiction had acquired all the +confidence which the consciousness of irresistible abilities could have +given. I was once mentioning a man of eminence, and, after having +recounted his virtues, endeavoured to represent him fully, by mentioning +his faults. "Sir," said Mr. Steady, "that he has faults I can easily +believe, for who is without them? No man, Sir, is now alive, among the +innumerable multitudes that swarm upon the earth, however wise, or +however good, who has not, in some degree, his failings and his faults. +If there be any man faultless, bring him forth into publick view, show +him openly, and let him be known; but I will venture to affirm, and, +till the contrary be plainly shown, shall always maintain, that no such +man is to be found. Tell not me, Sir, of impeccability and perfection; +such talk is for those that are strangers in the world: I have seen +several nations, and conversed with all ranks of people; I have known +the great and the mean, the learned and the ignorant, the old and the +young, the clerical and the lay; but I have never found a man without a +fault; and I suppose shall die in the opinion, that to be human is to be +frail." + +To all this nothing could be opposed. I listened with a hanging head; +Mr. Steady looked round on the hearers with triumph, and saw every eye +congratulating his victory; he departed, and spent the next morning in +following those who retired from the company, and telling them, with +injunctions of secrecy, how poor Spritely began to take liberties with +men wiser than himself; but that he suppressed him by a decisive +argument, which put him totally to silence. + +Dick Snug is a man of sly remark and pithy sententiousness: he never +immerges himself in the stream of conversation, but lies to catch his +companions in the eddy: he is often very successful in breaking +narratives and confounding eloquence. A gentleman, giving the history of +one of his acquaintance, made mention of a lady that had many lovers: +"Then," said Dick, "she was either handsome or rich." This observation +being well received, Dick watched the progress of the tale; and, hearing +of a man lost in a shipwreck, remarked, that "no man was ever drowned +upon dry land." + +Will Startle is a man of exquisite sensibility, whose delicacy of frame +and quickness of discernment subject him to impressions from the +slightest causes; and who, therefore, passes his life between rapture +and horrour, in quiverings of delight, or convulsions of disgust. His +emotions are too violent for many words; his thoughts are always +discovered by exclamations. _Vile, odious, horrid, detestable_, and +_sweet, charming, delightful, astonishing_, compose almost his whole +vocabulary, which he utters with various contortions and gesticulations, +not easily related or described. + +Jack Solid is a man of much reading, who utters nothing but quotations; +but having been, I suppose, too confident of his memory, he has for some +time neglected his books, and his stock grows every day more scanty. + +Mr. Solid has found an opportunity every night to repeat, from Hudibras, + + Doubtless the pleasure is as great + Of being cheated, as to cheat; + +and from Waller, + + Poets lose half the praise they would have got, + Were it but known what they discreetly blot. + +Dick Misty is a man of deep research, and forcible penetration. Others +are content with superficial appearances; but Dick holds, that there is +no effect without a cause, and values himself upon his power of +explaining the difficult and displaying the abstruse. Upon a dispute +among us, which of two young strangers was more beautiful, "You," says +Mr. Misty, turning to me, "like Amaranthia better than Chloris. I do not +wonder at the preference, for the cause is evident: there is in man a +perception of harmony, and a sensibility of perfection, which touches +the finer fibres of the mental texture; and before reason can descend +from her throne, to pass her sentence upon the things compared, drives +us towards the object proportioned to our faculties, by an impulse +gentle, yet irresistible; for the harmonick system of the Universe, and +the reciprocal magnetism of similar natures, are always operating +towards conformity and union; nor can the powers of the soul cease from +agitation, till they find something on which they can repose." To this +nothing was opposed; and Amaranthia was acknowledged to excel Chloris. + +Of the rest you may expect an account from, + +Sir, yours, + +ROBIN SPRITELY. + + + + +No. 79. SATURDAY, OCTOBER 20, 1759. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Sir, + +Your acceptance of a former letter on painting gives me encouragement to +offer a few more sketches on the same subject. + +Amongst the painters, and the writers on painting, there is one maxim +universally admitted and continually inculcated. _Imitate nature_ is the +invariable rule; but I know none who have explained in what manner this +rule is to be understood; the consequence of which is, that every one +takes it in the most obvious sense, that objects are represented +naturally when they have such relief that they seem real. It may appear +strange, perhaps, to hear this sense of the rule disputed; but it must +be considered, that, if the excellency of a painter consisted only in +this kind of imitation, painting must lose its rank, and be no longer +considered as a liberal art, and sister to poetry, this imitation being +merely mechanical, in which the slowest intellect is always sure to +succeed best: for the painter of genius cannot stoop to drudgery, in +which the understanding has no part; and what pretence has the art to +claim kindred with poetry, but by its powers over the imagination? To +this power the painter of genius directs his aim; in this sense he +studies nature, and often arrives at his end, even by being unnatural in +the confined sense of the word. + +The grand style of painting requires this minute attention to be +carefully avoided, and must be kept as separate from it as the style of +poetry from that of history. Poetical ornaments destroy that air of +truth and plainness which ought to characterize history; but the very +being of poetry consists in departing from this plain narration, and +adopting every ornament that will warm the imagination. To desire to see +the excellencies of each style united, to mingle the Dutch with the +Italian school, is to join contrarieties which cannot subsist together, +and which destroy the efficacy of each other. The Italian attends only +to the invariable, the great and general ideas which are fixed and +inherent in universal nature; the Dutch, on the contrary, to literal +truth and a minute exactness in the detail, as I may say, of nature +modified by accident. The attention to these petty peculiarities is the +very cause of this naturalness so much admired in the Dutch pictures, +which, if we suppose it to be a beauty, is certainly of a lower order, +which ought to give place to a beauty of a superior kind, since one +cannot be obtained but by departing from the other. + +If my opinion was asked concerning the works of Michael Angelo, whether +they would receive any advantage from possessing this mechanical merit, +I should not scruple to say, they would not only receive no advantage, +but would lose, in a great measure, the effect which they now have on +every mind susceptible of great and noble ideas. His works may be said +to be all genius and soul; and why should they be loaded with heavy +matter, which can only counteract his purpose by retarding the progress +of the imagination? + +If this opinion should be thought one of the wild extravagancies of +enthusiasm, I shall only say, that those who censure it are not +conversant in the works of the great masters. It is very difficult to +determine the exact degree of enthusiasm that the arts of painting and +poetry may admit. There may, perhaps, be too great an indulgence, as +well as too great a restraint of imagination; and if the one produces +incoherent monsters, the other produces what is full as bad, lifeless +insipidity. An intimate knowledge of the passions, and good sense, but +not common sense, must at last determine its limits. It has been +thought, and I believe with reason, that Michael Angelo sometimes +trangressed those limits; and I think I have seen figures of him of +which it was very difficult to determine whether they were in the +highest degree sublime or extremely ridiculous. Such faults may be said +to be the ebullitions of genius; but at least he had this merit, that he +never was insipid, and whatever passion his works may excite, they will +always escape contempt. + +What I have had under consideration is the sublimest style, particularly +that of Michael Angelo, the Homer of painting. Other kinds may admit of +this naturalness, which of the lowest kind is the chief merit; but in +painting, as in poetry, the highest style has the least of common +nature. + +One may very safely recommend a little more enthusiasm to the modern +painters; too much is certainly not the vice of the present age. The +Italians seem to have been continually declining, in this respect, from +the time of Michael Angelo to that of Carlo Maratti, and from thence to +the very bathos of insipidity to which they are now sunk; so that there +is no need of remarking, that, where I mentioned the Italian painters in +opposition to the Dutch, I mean not the moderns, but the heads of the +old Roman and Bolognian schools; nor did I mean to include in my idea of +an Italian painter, the Venetian school, which may be said to be the +Dutch part of the Italian genius. I have only to add a word of advice to +the painters, that, however excellent they may be in painting naturally, +they would not flatter themselves very much upon it, and to the +connoisseurs, that when they see a cat or fiddle painted so finely, +that, as the phrase is, "it looks as if you could take it up," they +would not for that reason immediately compare the painter to Raffaelle +and Michael Angelo.[1] + +[1] By Sir Joshua Reynolds. + + + + +No. 80. SATURDAY, OCTOBER 27, 1759. + +That every day has its pains and sorrows is universally experienced, and +almost universally confessed; but let us not attend only to mournful +truths; if we look impartially about us, we shall find that every day +has likewise its pleasures and its joys. + +The time is now come when the town is again beginning to be full, and +the rusticated beauty sees an end of her banishment. Those whom the +tyranny of fashion had condemned to pass the summer among shades and +brooks, are now preparing to return to plays, balls and assemblies, with +health restored by retirement, and spirits kindled by expectation. + +Many a mind, which has languished some months without emotion or desire, +now feels a sudden renovation of its faculties. It was long ago observed +by Pythagoras, that ability and necessity dwell near each other. She +that wandered in the garden without sense of its fragrance, and lay day +after day stretched upon a couch behind a green curtain, unwilling to +wake, and unable to sleep, now summons her thoughts to consider which of +her last year's clothes shall be seen again, and to anticipate the +raptures of a new suit; the day and the night are now filled with +occupation; the laces, which were too fine to be worn among rusticks, +are taken from the boxes and reviewed; and the eye is no sooner closed +after its labours, than whole shops of silk busy the fancy. + +But happiness is nothing, if it is not known, and very little, if it is +not envied. Before the day of departure a week is always appropriated to +the payment and reception of ceremonial visits, at which nothing can be +mentioned but the delights of London. The lady who is hastening to the +scene of action flutters her wings, displays her prospects of felicity, +tells how she grudges every moment of delay, and, in the presence of +those whom she knows condemned to stay at home, is sure to wonder by +what arts life can be made supportable through a winter in the country, +and to tell how often, amidst the ecstasies of an opera, she shall pity +those friends whom she has left behind. Her hope of giving pain is +seldom disappointed; the affected indifference of one, the faint +congratulations of another, the wishes of some openly confessed, and the +silent dejection of the rest, all exalt her opinion of her own +superiority. + +But, however we may labour for our own deception, truth, though +unwelcome, will sometimes intrude upon the mind. They who have already +enjoyed the crowds and noise of the great city, know that their desire +to return is little more than the restlessness of a vacant mind, that +they are not so much led by hope as driven by disgust, and wish rather +to leave the country than to see the town. There is commonly in every +coach a passenger enwrapped in silent expectation, whose joy is more +sincere, and whose hopes are more exalted. The virgin whom the last +summer released from her governess, and who is now going between her +mother and her aunt to try the fortune of her wit and beauty, suspects +no fallacy in the gay representation. She believes herself passing into +another world, and images London as an elysian region, where every hour +has its proper pleasure, where nothing is seen but the blaze of wealth, +and nothing heard but merriment and flattery; where the morning always +rises on a show, and the evening closes on a ball; where the eyes are +used only to sparkle, and the feet only to dance. + +Her aunt and her mother amuse themselves on the road, with telling her +of dangers to be dreaded, and cautions to be observed. She hears them as +they heard their predecessors, with incredulity or contempt. She sees +that they have ventured and escaped; and one of the pleasures which she +promises herself is to detect their falsehoods, and be freed from their +admonitions. + +We are inclined to believe those whom we do not know, because they have +never deceived us. The fair adventurer may, perhaps, listen to the +Idler, whom she cannot suspect of rivalry or malice; yet he scarcely +expects to be credited when he tells her, that her expectations will +likewise end in disappointment. + +The uniform necessities of human nature produce, in a great measure, +uniformity of life, and for part of the day make one place like another; +to dress and to undress, to eat and to sleep, are the same in London as +in the country. The supernumerary hours have, indeed, a great variety +both of pleasure and of pain. The stranger, gazed on by multitudes at +her first appearance in the Park, is, perhaps, on the highest summit of +female happiness; but how great is the anguish when the novelty of +another face draws her worshippers away! The heart may leap for a time +under a fine gown; but the sight of a gown yet finer puts an end to +rapture. In the first row at an opera, two hours may be happily passed +in listening to the musick on the stage, and watching the glances of the +company; but how will the night end in despondency when she, that +imagined herself the sovereign of the place, sees lords contending to +lead Iris to her chair! There is little pleasure in conversation, to her +whose wit is regarded but in the second place; and who can dance with +ease or spirit that sees Amaryllis led out before her? She that fancied +nothing but a succession of pleasures, will find herself engaged without +design in numberless competitions, and mortified, without provocation, +with numberless afflictions. + +But I do not mean to extinguish that ardour which I wish to moderate, or +to discourage those whom I am endeavouring to restrain. To know the +world is necessary, since we were born for the help of one another; and +to know it early is convenient, if it be only that we may learn early to +despise it. She that brings to London a mind well prepared for +improvement, though she misses her hope of uninterrupted happiness, will +gain in return an opportunity of adding knowledge to vivacity, and +enlarging innocence to virtue. + + + + +No. 81. SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 3, 1759. + +As the English army was passing towards Quebec along a soft savanna +between a mountain and a lake, one of the petty chiefs of the inland +regions stood upon a rock surrounded by his clan, and from behind the +shelter of the bushes contemplated the art and regularity of European +war. It was evening, the tents were pitched: he observed the security +with which the troops rested in the night, and the order with which the +march was renewed in the morning. He continued to pursue them with his +eye till they could be seen no longer, and then stood for some time +silent and pensive. + +Then turning to his followers, "My children," said he, "I have often +heard from men hoary with long life, that there was a time when our +ancestors were absolute lords of the woods, the meadows and the lakes, +wherever the eye can reach or the foot can pass. They fished and hunted, +feasted and danced, and when they were weary lay down under the first +thicket, without danger and without fear. They changed their +habitations, as the seasons required, convenience prompted, or curiosity +allured them; and sometimes gathered the fruits of the mountain, and +sometimes sported in canoes along the coast. + +"Many years and ages are supposed to have been thus passed in plenty and +security; when, at last, a new race of men entered our country from the +great ocean. They inclosed themselves in habitations of stone, which our +ancestors could neither enter by violence, nor destroy by fire. They +issued from those fastnesses, sometimes covered, like the armadillo, +with shells, from which the lance rebounded on the striker, and +sometimes carried by mighty beasts which had never been seen in our +vales or forests, of such strength and swiftness, that flight and +opposition were vain alike. Those invaders ranged over the continent +slaughtering, in their rage, those that resisted, and those that +submitted, in their mirth. Of those that remained, some were buried in +caverns, and condemned to dig metals for their masters; some were +employed in tilling the ground, of which foreign tyrants devour the +produce; and, when the sword and the mines have destroyed the natives, +they supply their place by human beings of another colour, brought from +some distant country to perish here under toil and torture. + +"Some there are who boast their humanity, and content themselves to +seize our chases and fisheries, who drive us from every tract of ground +where fertility and pleasantness invite them to settle, and make no war +upon us except when we intrude upon our own lands. + +"Others pretend to have purchased a right of residence and tyranny; but +surely the insolence of such bargains is more offensive than the avowed +and open dominion of force. What reward can induce the possessour of a +country to admit a stranger more powerful than himself? Fraud or terrour +must operate in such contracts; either they promised protection which +they never have afforded, or instruction which they never imparted. We +hoped to be secured by their favour from some other evil, or to learn +the arts of Europe, by which we might be able to secure ourselves. Their +power they never have exerted in our defence, and their arts they have +studiously concealed from us. Their treaties are only to deceive, and +their traffick only to defraud us. They have a written law among them, +of which they boast, as derived from Him who made the earth and sea, and +by which they profess to believe that man will be made happy when life +shall forsake him. Why is not this law communicated to us? It is +concealed because it is violated. For how can they preach it to an +Indian nation, when I am told that one of its first precepts forbids +them to do to others what they would not that others should do to them? + +"But the time, perhaps, is now approaching, when the pride of usurpation +shall be crushed, and the cruelties of invasion shall be revenged. The +sons of rapacity have now drawn their swords upon each other, and +referred their claims to the decision of war; let us look unconcerned +upon the slaughter, and remember that the death of every European +delivers the country from a tyrant and a robber; for what is the claim +of either nation, but the claim of the vulture to the leveret, of the +tiger to the fawn? Let them then continue to dispute their title to +regions which they cannot people, to purchase by danger and blood the +empty dignity of dominion over mountains which they will never climb, +and rivers which they will never pass. Let us endeavour, in the mean +time, to learn their discipline, and to forge their weapons; and, when +they shall be weakened with mutual slaughter, let us rush down upon +them, force their remains to take shelter in their ships, and reign once +more in our native country[1]." + +[1] "How far the seizing on countries already peopled, and driving out + or massacring the innocent and defenceless natives, merely because + they differed from their invaders in language, in religion, in + customs, in government or in colour; how far such a conduct was + consonant to nature, to reason or to Christianity, deserved well to + be considered by those who have rendered their names immortal by + thus civilizing mankind." Blackstone, Com. ii. 7. + + I love the University of Salamanca, said Johnson, with warm emotion, + for when the Spaniards were in doubt as to the lawfulness of their + conquering America, the University of Salamanca gave it as their + opinion, that it was not lawful. Boswell, i. 434. + + The untaught eloquence of Indian feeling is well preserved in the + language of Gertrude of Wyoming. + + + +No. 82. SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 10, 1759. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Sir, + +Discoursing in my last letter on the different practice of the Italian +and Dutch painters, I observed, that "the Italian painter attends only +to the invariable, the great and general ideas which are fixed and +inherent in universal nature." + +I was led into the subject of this letter by endeavouring to fix the +original cause of this conduct of the Italian masters. If it can be +proved that by this choice they selected the most beautiful part of the +creation, it will show how much their principles are founded on reason, +and, at the same time, discover the origin of our ideas of beauty. + +I suppose it will be easily granted, that no man can judge whether any +animal be beautiful in its kind, or deformed, who has seen only one of +that species: this is as conclusive in regard to the human figure; so +that if a man, born blind, was to recover his sight, and the most +beautiful woman was brought before him, he could not determine whether +she was handsome or not; nor, if the most beautiful and most deformed +were produced, could he any better determine to which he should give the +preference, having seen only those two. To distinguish beauty, then, +implies the having seen many individuals of that species. If it is +asked, how is more skill acquired by the observation of greater numbers? +I answer that, in consequence of having seen many, the power is +acquired, even without seeking after it, of distinguishing between +accidental blemishes and excrescences which are continually varying the +surface of Nature's works, and the invariable general form which Nature +most frequently produces, and always seems to intend in her productions. + +Thus, amongst the blades of grass or leaves of the same tree, though no +two can be found exactly alike, yet the general form is invariable: a +naturalist, before he chose one as a sample, would examine many, since, +if he took the first that occurred, it might have, by accident or +otherwise, such a form as that it would scarcely be known to belong to +that species; he selects, as the painter does, the most beautiful, that +is, the most general form of nature. + +Every species of the animal, as well as the vegetable creation, may be +said to have a fixed or determinate form towards which nature is +continually inclining, like various lines terminating in the centre; or +it may be compared to pendulums vibrating in different directions over +one central point; and as they all cross the centre, though only one +passes through any other point, so it will be found that perfect beauty +is oftener produced by nature than deformity; I do not mean than +deformity in general, but than any one kind of deformity. To instance in +a particular part of a feature: the line that forms the ridge of the +nose is beautiful when it is straight; this then is the central form, +which is oftener found than either concave, convex or any other +irregular form that shall be proposed. As we are then more accustomed to +beauty than deformity, we may conclude that to be the reason why we +approve and admire it, as we approve and admire customs and fashions of +dress for no other reason than that we are used to them; so that, though +habit and custom cannot be said to be the cause of beauty, it is +certainly the cause of our liking it; and I have no doubt but that, if +we were more used to deformity than beauty, deformity would then lose +the idea now annexed to it, and take that of beauty; as, if the whole +world should agree that _yes_ and _no_ should change their meanings, +_yes_ would then deny, and _no_ would affirm. + +Whoever undertakes to proceed further in this argument, and endeavours +to fix a general criterion of beauty respecting different species, or to +show why one species is more beautiful than another, it will be required +from him first to prove that one species is really more beautiful than +another. That we prefer one to the other, and with very good reason, +will be readily granted; but it does not follow from thence that we +think it a more beautiful form; for we have no criterion of form by +which to determine our judgment. He who says a swan is more beautiful +than a dove, means little more than that he has more pleasure in seeing +a swan than a dove, either from the stateliness of its motions, or its +being a more rare bird; and he who gives the preference to the dove, +does it from some association of ideas of innocence that he always +annexes to the dove; but, if he pretends to defend the preference he +gives to one or the other by endeavouring to prove that this more +beautiful form proceeds from a particular gradation of magnitude, +undulation of a curve, or direction of a line, or whatever other conceit +of his imagination he shall fix on as a criterion of form, he will be +continually contradicting himself, and find at last, that the great +Mother of Nature will not be subjected to such narrow rules. Among the +various reasons why we prefer one part of her works to another, the most +general, I believe, is habit and custom; custom makes, in a certain +sense, white black, and black white; it is custom alone determines our +preference of the colour of the Europeans to the Aethiopians; and they, +for the same reason, prefer their own colour to ours. I suppose nobody +will doubt, if one of their painters were to paint the goddess of +beauty, but that he would represent her black, with thick lips, flat +nose, and woolly hair; and, it seems to me, he would act very +unnaturally if he did not; for by what criterion will any one dispute +the propriety of his idea? We, indeed, say, that the form and colour of +the European is preferable to that of the Aethiopian; but I know of no +reason we have for it, but that we are more accustomed to it. It is +absurd to say, that beauty is possessed of attractive powers, which +irresistibly seize the corresponding mind with love and admiration, +since that argument is equally conclusive in favour of the white and the +black philosopher. + +The black and white nations must, in respect of beauty, be considered as +of different kinds, at least a different species of the same kind; from +one of which to the other, as I observed, no inference can be drawn. + +Novelty is said to be one of the causes of beauty: that novelty is a +very sufficient reason why we should admire, is not denied; but, because +it is uncommon, is it, therefore, beautiful? The beauty that is produced +by colour, as when we prefer one bird to another, though of the same +form, on account of its colour, has nothing to do with this argument, +which reaches only to form. I have here considered the word _beauty_ as +being properly applied to form alone. There is a necessity of fixing +this confined sense; for there can be no argument, if the sense of the +word is extended to every thing that is approved. A rose may as well be +said to be beautiful, because it has a fine smell, as a bird because of +its colour. When we apply the word _beauty_ we do not mean always by it +a more beautiful form, but something valuable on account of its rarity, +usefulness, colour, or any other property. A horse is said to be a +beautiful animal; but, had a horse as few good qualities as a tortoise, +I do not imagine that he would be then esteemed beautiful. + +A fitness to the end proposed, is said to be another cause of beauty; +but supposing we were proper judges of what form is the most proper in +an animal to constitute strength or swiftness, we always determine +concerning its beauty, before we exert our understanding to judge of its +fitness. + +From what has been said, it may be inferred, that the works of nature, +if we compare one species with another, are all equally beautiful; and +that preference is given from custom, or some association of ideas: and +that, in creatures of the same species, beauty is the medium or centre +of all various forms. + +To conclude, then, by way of corollary: If it has been proved, that the +painter, by attending to the invariable and general ideas of nature, +produces beauty, he must, by regarding minute particularities and +accidental discriminations, deviate from the universal rule, and pollute +his canvass with deformity[1]. + +[1] By Sir Joshua Reynolds. + + + + +No. 83. SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 17, 1759. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Sir, + +I suppose you have forgotten that many weeks ago I promised to send you +an account of my companions at the Wells. You would not deny me a place +among the most faithful votaries of idleness, if you knew how often I +have recollected my engagement, and contented myself to delay the +performance for some reason which I durst not examine because I knew it +to be false; how often I have sat down to write, and rejoiced at +interruption; and how often I have praised the dignity of resolution, +determined at night to write in the morning, and deferred it in the +morning to the quiet hours of night. + +I have at last begun what I have long wished at an end, and find it more +easy than I expected to continue my narration. + +Our assembly could boast no such constellation of intellects as +Clarendon's band of associates. We had among us no Selden, Falkland or +Waller; but we had men not less important in their own eyes, though less +distinguished by the publick; and many a time have we lamented the +partiality of mankind, and agreed that men of the deepest inquiry +sometimes let their discoveries die away in silence, that the most +comprehensive observers have seldom opportunities of imparting their +remarks, and that modest merit passes in the crowd unknown and unheeded. + +One of the greatest men of the society was Sim Scruple, who lives in a +continual equipoise of doubt, and is a constant enemy to confidence and +dogmatism. Sim's favourite topick of conversation is the narrowness of +the human mind, the fallaciousness of our senses, the prevalence of +early prejudice, and the uncertainty of appearances. Sim has many doubts +about the nature of death, and is sometimes inclined to believe that +sensation may survive motion, and that a dead man may feel though he +cannot stir. He has sometimes hinted that man might, perhaps, have been +naturally a quadruped; and thinks it would be very proper, that at the +Foundling Hospital some children should be inclosed in an apartment in +which the nurses should be obliged to walk half upon four and half upon +two legs, that the younglings, being bred without the prejudice of +example, might have no other guide than nature, and might at last come +forth into the world as genius should direct, erect or prone, on two +legs or on four. + +The next, in dignity of mien and fluency of talk, was Dick Wormwood, +whose sole delight is to find every thing wrong. Dick never enters a +room but he shows that the door and the chimney are ill-placed. He never +walks into the fields but he finds ground ploughed which is fitter for +pasture. He is always an enemy to the present fashion. + +He holds that all the beauty and virtue of women will soon be destroyed +by the use of tea[1]. He triumphs when he talks on the present system of +education, and tells us, with great vehemence, that we are learning +words when we should learn things. He is of opinion that we suck in +errours at the nurse's breast, and thinks it extremely ridiculous that +children should be taught to use the right hand rather than the left. + +Bob Sturdy considers it as a point of honour to say again what he has +once said, and wonders how any man, that has been known to alter his +opinion, can look his neighbours in the face. Bob is the most formidable +disputant of the whole company; for, without troubling himself to search +for reasons, he tires his antagonist with repeated affirmations. When +Bob has been attacked for an hour with all the powers of eloquence and +reason, and his position appears to all but himself utterly untenable, +he always closes the debate with his first declaration, introduced by a +stout preface of contemptuous civility. "All this is very judicious; you +may talk, Sir, as you please; but I will still say what I said at +first." Bob deals much in universals, which he has now obliged us to let +pass without exceptions. He lives on an annuity, and holds that _there +are as many thieves as traders_; he is of loyalty unshaken, and always +maintains, that _he who sees a Jacobite sees a rascal_. + +Phil Gentle is an enemy to the rudeness of contradiction and the +turbulence of debate. Phil has no notions of his own, and, therefore, +willingly catches from the last speaker such as he shall drop. This +flexibility of ignorance is easily accommodated to any tenet; his only +difficulty is, when the disputants grow zealous, how to be of two +contrary opinions at once. If no appeal is made to his judgment, he has +the art of distributing his attention and his smiles in such a manner, +that each thinks him of his own party; but if he is obliged to speak, he +then observes that the question is difficult; that he never received so +much pleasure from a debate before; that neither of the controvertists +could have found his match in any other company; that Mr. Wormwood's +assertion is very well supported, and yet there is great force in what +Mr. Scruple advanced against it. By this indefinite declaration both are +commonly satisfied; for he that has prevailed is in good humour; and he +that has felt his own weakness is very glad to have escaped so well. + +I am, Sir, yours, &c. ROBIN SPRITELY. + +[1] Dr. Johnson was, as he has humorously described himself, "a hardened + and shameless tea-drinker." See his amusing Review of a Journal of + Eight Days' Journey and his Reply to a paper in the Gazetteer, May + 26, 1757. + + + + +No. 84. SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 24, 1759. + +Biography is, of the various kinds of narrative writing, that which is +most eagerly read, and most easily applied to the purposes of life. + +In romances, when the wide field of possibility lies open to invention, +the incidents may easily be made more numerous, the vicissitudes more +sudden, and the events more wonderful; but from the time of life when +fancy begins to be overruled by reason and corrected by experience, the +most artful tale raises little curiosity when it is known to be +false[1]; though it may, perhaps, be sometimes read as a model of a neat +or elegant style, not for the sake of knowing what it contains, but how +it is written; or those that are weary of themselves, may have recourse +to it as a pleasing dream, of which, when they awake, they voluntarily +dismiss the images from their minds. + +The examples and events of history press, indeed, upon the mind with the +weight of truth; but when they are reposited in the memory, they are +oftener employed for show than use, and rather diversify conversation +than regulate life. Few are engaged in such scenes as give them +opportunities of growing wiser by the downfal of statesmen or the defeat +of generals. The stratagems of war, and the intrigues of courts, are +read by far the greater part of mankind with the same indifference as +the adventures of fabled heroes, or the revolutions of a fairy region. +Between falsehood and useless truth there is little difference. As gold +which he cannot spend will make no man rich, so knowledge which he +cannot apply will make no man wise. + +The mischievous consequences of vice and folly, of irregular desires and +predominant passions, are best discovered by those relations which are +levelled with the general surface of life, which tell not how any man +became great, but how he was made happy; not how he lost the favour of +his prince, but how he became discontented with himself. + +Those relations are, therefore, commonly of most value in which the +writer tells his own story. He that recounts the life of another, +commonly dwells most upon conspicuous events, lessens the familiarity of +his tale to increase its dignity, shows his favourite at a distance, +decorated and magnified like the ancient actors in their tragick dress, +and endeavours to hide the man that he may produce a hero. + +But if it be true, which was said by a French prince, "that no man was a +hero to the servants of his chamber," it is equally true, that every man +is yet less a hero to himself. He that is most elevated above the crowd +by the importance of his employments, or the reputation of his genius, +feels himself affected by fame or business but as they influence his +domestick life. The high and low, as they have the same faculties and +the same senses, have no less similitude in their pains and pleasures. +The sensations are the same in all, though produced by very different +occasions. The prince feels the same pain when an invader seizes a +province, as the farmer when a thief drives away his cow. Men thus equal +in themselves will appear equal in honest and impartial biography; and +those whom fortune or nature places at the greatest distance may afford +instruction to each other. + +The writer of his own life has, at least, the first qualification of an +historian, the knowledge of the truth; and though it may be plausibly +objected that his temptations to disguise it are equal to his +opportunities of knowing it, yet I cannot but think that impartiality +may be expected with equal confidence from him that relates the passages +of his own life, as from him that delivers the transactions of another. + +Certainty of knowledge not only excludes mistake, but fortifies +veracity. What we collect by conjecture, and by conjecture only, can one +man judge of another's motives or sentiments, is easily modified by +fancy or by desire; as objects imperfectly discerned take forms from the +hope or fear of the beholder. But that which is fully known cannot be +falsified but with reluctance of understanding, and alarm of conscience: +of understanding, the lover of truth; of conscience, the sentinel of +virtue. + +He that writes the life of another is either his friend or his enemy, +and wishes either to exalt his praise or aggravate his infamy: many +temptations to falsehood will occur in the disguise of passions, too +specious to fear much resistance. Love of virtue will animate +panegyrick, and hatred of wickedness imbitter censure. The zeal of +gratitude, the ardour of patriotism, fondness for an opinion, or +fidelity to a party, may easily overpower the vigilance of a mind +habitually well disposed, and prevail over unassisted and unfriended +veracity. + +But he that speaks of himself has no motive to falsehood or partiality +except self-love, by which all have so often been betrayed, that all are +on the watch against its artifices. He that writes an apology for a +single action, to confute an accusation, to recommend himself to favour, +is, indeed, always to be suspected of favouring his own cause; but he +that sits down calmly and voluntarily to review his life for the +admonition of posterity, or to amuse himself, and leaves this account +unpublished, may be commonly presumed to tell truth, since falsehood +cannot appease his own mind, and fame will not be heard beneath the +tomb. + +[1] It is somewhere recorded of a retired citizen, that he was in the + habit of again and again perusing the incomparable story of Robinson + Crusoe without a suspicion of its authenticity. At length a friend + assured him of its being a work of fiction. What you say, replied + the old man mournfully, may be true; but your information has taken + away the only comfort of my age. + + --Pol, me occidistis, amici, + Non servastis, ait; cui sic extorta voluptas, + Et demtus per vim mentis gratissimus error. HOR. Lib. ii. Ep. ii. 138. + + + + +No. 85. SATURDAY, DECEMBER 1, 1759. + +One of the peculiarities which distinguish the present age is the +multiplication of books. Every day brings new advertisements of literary +undertakings, and we are flattered with repeated promises of growing +wise on easier terms than our progenitors. + +How much either happiness or knowledge is advanced by this multitude of +authors, it is not very easy to decide. + +He that teaches us any thing which we knew not before, is undoubtedly to +be reverenced as a master. + +He that conveys knowledge by more pleasing ways, may very properly be +loved as a benefactor; and he that supplies life with innocent +amusement, will be certainly caressed as a pleasing companion. + +But few of those who fill the world with books have any pretensions to +the hope either of pleasing or instructing. They have often no other +task than to lay two books before them, out of which they compile a +third, without any new materials of their own, and with very little +application of judgment to those which former authors have supplied. + +That all compilations are useless, I do not assert. Particles of science +are often very widely scattered. Writers of extensive comprehension have +incidental remarks upon topicks very remote from the principal subject, +which are often more valuable than formal treatises, and which yet are +not known because they are not promised in the title. He that collects +those under proper heads is very laudably employed, for, though he +exerts no great abilities in the work, he facilitates the progress of +others, and by making that easy of attainment which is already written, +may give some mind, more vigorous or more adventurous than his own, +leisure for new thoughts and original designs. + +But the collections poured lately from the press have been seldom made +at any great expense of time or inquiry, and, therefore, only serve to +distract choice without supplying any real want. + +It is observed that "a corrupt society has many laws;" I know not +whether it is not equally true, that "an ignorant age has many books." +When the treasures of ancient knowledge lie unexamined, and original +authors are neglected and forgotten, compilers and plagiaries are +encouraged, who give us again what we had before, and grow great by +setting before us what our own sloth had hidden from our view. + +Yet are not even these writers to be indiscriminately censured and +rejected. Truth like beauty varies its fashions, and is best recommended +by different dresses to different minds; and he that recalls the +attention of mankind to any part of learning which time has left behind +it, may be truly said to advance the literature of his own age. As the +manners of nations vary, new topicks of persuasion become necessary, and +new combinations of imagery are produced; and he that can accommodate +himself to the reigning taste, may always have readers who, perhaps, +would not have looked upon better performances. + +To exact of every man who writes, that he should say something new, +would be to reduce authors to a small number; to oblige the most fertile +genius to say only what is new would be to contract his volumes to a few +pages. Yet, surely, there ought to be some bounds to repetition; +libraries ought no more to be heaped for ever with the same thoughts +differently expressed, than with the same books differently decorated. + +The good or evil which these secondary writers produce is seldom of any +long duration. As they owe their existence to change of fashion, they +commonly disappear when a new fashion becomes prevalent. The authors +that in any nation last from age to age are very few, because there are +very few that have any other claim to notice than that they catch hold +on present curiosity, and gratify some accidental desire, or produce +some temporary conveniency. + +But however the writers of the day may despair of future fame, they +ought at least to forbear any present mischief. Though they cannot +arrive at eminent heights of excellence, they might keep themselves +harmless. They might take care to inform themselves before they attempt +to inform others, and exert the little influence which they have for +honest purposes. + +But such is the present state of our literature, that the ancient sage, +who thought _a great book a great evil_, would now think the multitude +of books a multitude of evils. He would consider a bulky writer who +engrossed a year, and a swarm of pamphleteers who stole each an hour, as +equal wasters of human life, and would make no other difference between +them, than between a beast of prey and a flight of locusts. + + + + +No. 86. SATURDAY, DECEMBER 8, 1759. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Sir, + +I am a young lady newly married to a young gentleman. Our fortune is +large, our minds are vacant, our dispositions gay, our acquaintances +numerous, and our relations splendid. We considered that marriage, like +life, has its youth; that the first year is the year of gaiety and +revel, and resolved to see the shows and feel the joys of London, before +the increase of our family should confine us to domestick cares and +domestick pleasures. + +Little time was spent in preparation; the coach was harnessed, and a few +days brought us to London, and we alighted at a lodging provided for us +by Miss Biddy Trifle, a maiden niece of my husband's father, where we +found apartments on a second floor, which my cousin told us would serve +us till we could please ourselves with a more commodious and elegant +habitation, and which she had taken at a very high price, because it was +not worth the while to make a hard bargain for so short a time. + +Here I intended to lie concealed till my new clothes were made, and my +new lodging hired; but Miss Trifle had so industriously given notice of +our arrival to all her acquaintance, that I had the mortification next +day of seeing the door thronged with painted coaches and chairs with +coronets, and was obliged to receive all my husband's relations on a +second floor. + +Inconveniencies are often balanced by some advantage: the elevation of +my apartments furnished a subject for conversation, which, without some +such help, we should have been in danger of wanting. Lady Stately told +us how many years had passed since she climbed so many steps. Miss Airy +ran to the window, and thought it charming to see the walkers so little +in the street; and Miss Gentle went to try the same experiment, and +screamed to find herself so far above the ground. + +They all knew that we intended to remove, and, therefore, all gave me +advice about a proper choice. One street was recommended for the purity +of its air, another for its freedom from noise, another for its nearness +to the Park, another because there was but a step from it to all places +of diversion, and another because its inhabitants enjoyed at once the +town and country. + +I had civility enough to hear every recommendation with a look of +curiosity, while it was made, and of acquiescence, when it was +concluded, but in my heart felt no other desire than to be free from the +disgrace of a second floor, and cared little where I should fix, if the +apartments were spacious and splendid. + +Next day a chariot was hired, and Miss Trifle was despatched to find a +lodging. She returned in the afternoon, with an account of a charming +place, to which my husband went in the morning to make the contract. +Being young and unexperienced, he took with him his friend Ned Quick, a +gentleman of great skill in rooms and furniture, who sees, at a single +glance, whatever there is to be commended or censured. Mr. Quick, at the +first view of the house, declared that it could not be inhabited, for +the sun in the afternoon shone with full glare on the windows of the +dining-room. + +Miss Trifle went out again, and soon discovered another lodging, which +Mr. Quick went to survey, and found, that, whenever the wind should blow +from the, east, all the smoke of the city would be driven upon it. + +A magnificent set of rooms was then found in one of the streets near +Westminster-Bridge, which Miss Trifle preferred to any which she had yet +seen; but Mr. Quick, having mused upon it for a time, concluded that it +would be too much exposed in the morning to the fogs that rise from the +river. + +Thus Mr. Quick proceeded to give us every day new testimonies of his +taste and circumspection; sometimes the street was too narrow for a +double range of coaches; sometimes it was an obscure place, not +inhabited by persons of quality. Some places were dirty, and some +crowded; in some houses the furniture was ill-suited, and in others the +stairs were too narrow. He had such fertility of objections that Miss +Trifle was at last tired, and desisted from all attempts for our +accommodation. + +In the mean time I have still continued to see my company on a second +floor, and am asked twenty times a day when I am to leave those odious +lodgings, in which I live tumultuously without pleasure, and expensively +without honour. My husband thinks so highly of Mr. Quick, that he cannot +be persuaded to remove without his approbation; and Mr. Quick thinks his +reputation raised by the multiplication of difficulties. + +In this distress to whom can I have recourse? I find my temper vitiated +by daily disappointment, by the sight of pleasures which I cannot +partake, and the possession of riches which I cannot enjoy. Dear Mr. +Idler, inform my husband that he is trifling away, in superfluous +vexation, the few months which custom has appropriated to delight; that +matrimonial quarrels are not easily reconciled between those that have +no children; that wherever we settle he must always find some +inconvenience; but nothing is so much to be avoided as a perpetual state +of inquiry and suspense. + +I am, Sir, + +Your humble servant, + +PEGGY HEARTLESS. + + + + +No. 87. SATURDAY, DECEMBER 15, 1759. + +Of what we know not, we can only judge by what we know. Every novelty +appears more wonderful as it is more remote from any thing with which +experience or testimony has hitherto acquainted us; and, if it passes +further beyond the notions that we have been accustomed to form, it +becomes at last incredible. + +We seldom consider that human knowledge is very narrow, that national +manners are formed by chance, that uncommon conjunctures of causes +produce rare effects, or that what is impossible at one time or place +may yet happen in another. It is always easier to deny than to inquire. +To refuse credit confers for a moment an appearance of superiority, +which every little mind is tempted to assume when it may be gained so +cheaply as by withdrawing attention from evidence, and declining the +fatigue of comparing probabilities. The most pertinacious and vehement +demonstrator may be wearied in time by continual negation; and +incredulity, which an old poet, in his address to Raleigh, calls _the +wit of fools_, obtunds the argument which it cannot answer, as woolsacks +deaden arrows though they cannot repel them. + +Many relations of travellers have been slighted as fabulous, till more +frequent voyages have confirmed their veracity; and it may reasonably be +imagined, that many ancient historians are unjustly suspected of +falsehood, because our own times afford nothing that resembles what they +tell[1]. + +Had only the writers of antiquity informed us, that there was once a +nation in which the wife lay down upon the burning pile only to mix her +ashes with those of her husband, we should have thought it a tale to be +told with that of Endymion's commerce with the moon. Had only a single +traveller related, that many nations of the earth were black, we should +have thought the accounts of the Negroes and of the Phoenix equally +credible. But of black men the numbers are too great who are now +repining under English cruelty; and the custom of voluntary cremation is +not yet lost among the ladies of India. + +Few narratives will either to men or women appear more incredible than +the histories of the Amazons; of female nations of whose constitution it +was the essential and fundamental law to exclude men from all +participation, either of publick affairs or domestick business; where +female armies marched under female captains, female farmers gathered the +harvest, female partners danced together, and female wits diverted one +another. + +Yet several ages of antiquity have transmitted accounts of the Amazons +of Caucasus; and of the Amazons of America, who have given their name to +the greatest river in the world, Condamine lately found such memorials, +as can be expected among erratick and unlettered nations, where events +are recorded only by tradition, and new settling in the country from +time to time, confuse and efface all traces of former times. + +To die with husbands, or to live without them, are the two extremes +which the prudence and moderation of European ladies have, in all ages, +equally declined; they have never been allured to death by the kindness +or civility of the politest nations, nor has the roughness and brutality +of more savage countries ever provoked them to doom their male +associates to irrevocable banishment. The Bohemian matrons are said to +have made one short struggle for superiority; but, instead of banishing +the men, they contented themselves with condemning them to servile +offices; and their constitution, thus left imperfect, was quickly +overthrown. + +There is, I think, no class of English women from whom we are in any +danger of Amazonian usurpation. The old maids seem nearest to +independence, and most likely to be animated by revenge against +masculine authority; they often speak of men with acrimonious vehemence, +but it is seldom found that they have any settled hatred against them, +and it is yet more rarely observed that they have any kindness for each +other. They will not easily combine in any plot; and if they should ever +agree to retire and fortify themselves in castles or in mountains, the +sentinel will betray the passes in spite, and the garrison will +capitulate upon easy terms, if the besiegers have handsome swordknots, +and are well supplied with fringe and lace. + +The gamesters, if they were united, would make a formidable body; and, +since they consider men only as beings that are to lose their money, +they might live together without any wish for the officiousness of +gallantry or the delights of diversified conversation. But as nothing +would hold them together but the hope of plundering one another, their +government would fail from the defect of its principles; the men would +need only to neglect them, and they would perish in a few weeks by a +civil war. + +I do not mean to censure the ladies of England as defective in knowledge +or in spirit, when I suppose them unlikely to revive the military +honours of their sex. The character of the ancient Amazons was rather +terrible than lovely; the hand could not be very delicate that was only +employed in drawing the bow and brandishing the battle-axe; their power +was maintained by cruelty, their courage was deformed by ferocity, and +their example only shows that men and women live best together. + +[1] _Le vrai n'est pas toujours le vraisemblable._ The researches of + Gibbon, Rennel and Mitford, the travels of Bruce and Belzoni have + fully proved the truth of this maxim in the case of Herodotus. + + + + +No. 88. SATURDAY, DECEMBER 22, 1759. + + _Hodie quid egisti?_ + +When the philosophers of the last age were first congregated into the +Royal Society, great expectations were raised of the sudden progress of +useful arts; the time was supposed to be near, when engines should turn +by a perpetual motion, and health be secured by the universal medicine; +when learning should be facilitated by a real character, and commerce +extended by ships which could reach their ports in defiance of the +tempest. + +But improvement is naturally slow. The society met and parted without +any visible diminution of the miseries of life. The gout and stone were +still painful, the ground that was not ploughed brought no harvest, and +neither oranges nor grapes would grow upon the hawthorn. At last, those +who were disappointed began to be angry; those likewise who hated +innovation were glad to gain an opportunity of ridiculing men who had +depreciated, perhaps with too much arrogance, the knowledge of +antiquity. And it appears, from some of their earliest apologies, that +the philosophers felt with great sensibility the unwelcome importunities +of those who were daily asking, "What have ye done?" + +The truth is, that little had been done compared with what fame had been +suffered to promise; and the question could only be answered by general +apologies and by new hopes, which, when they were frustrated, gave a new +occasion to the same vexatious inquiry. + +This fatal question has disturbed the quiet of many other minds. He that +in the latter part of his life too strictly inquires what he has done, +can very seldom receive from his own heart such an account as will give +him satisfaction. + +We do not indeed so often disappoint others as ourselves. We not only +think more highly than others of our own abilities, but allow ourselves +to form hopes which we never communicate, and please our thoughts with +employments which none ever will allot us, and with elevations to which +we are never expected to rise; and when our days and years have passed +away in common business or common amusements, and we find at last that +we have suffered our purposes to sleep till the time of action is past, +we are reproached only by our own reflections; neither our friends nor +our enemies wonder that we live and die like the rest of mankind; that +we live without notice, and die without memorial; they know not what +task we had proposed, and, therefore, cannot discern whether it is +finished. + +He that compares what he has done with what he has left undone, will +feel the effect which must always follow the comparison of imagination +with reality; he will look with contempt on his own unimportance, and +wonder to what purpose he came into the world; he will repine that he +shall leave behind him no evidence of his having been, that he has added +nothing to the system of life, but has glided from youth to age among +the crowd, without any effort for distinction. + +Man is seldom willing to let fall the opinion of his own dignity, or to +believe that he does little only because every individual is a very +little being. He is better content to want diligence than power, and +sooner confesses the depravity of his will than the imbecility of his +nature. + +From this mistaken notion of human greatness it proceeds, that many who +pretend to have made great advances in wisdom so loudly declare that +they despise themselves. If I had ever found any of the self-contemners +much irritated or pained by the consciousness of their meanness, I +should have given them consolation by observing, that a little more than +nothing is as much as can be expected from a being, who, with respect to +the multitudes about him, is himself little more than nothing. Every man +is obliged by the Supreme Master of the universe to improve all the +opportunities of good which are afforded him, and to keep in continual +activity such abilities as are bestowed upon him. But he has no reason +to repine, though his abilities are small and his opportunities few. He +that has improved the virtue, or advanced the happiness of one +fellow-creature, he that has ascertained a single moral proposition, or +added one useful experiment to natural knowledge, may be contented with +his own performance, and, with respect to mortals like himself, may +demand, like Augustus, to be dismissed at his departure with applause. + + + + +No. 89. SATURDAY, DECEMBER 29, 1759. + + [Greek: Anechou kai apechou.] EPICT. + +How evil came into the world; for what reason it is that life is +overspread with such boundless varieties of misery; why the only +thinking being of this globe is doomed to think merely to be wretched, +and to pass his time from youth to age in fearing or in suffering +calamities, is a question which philosophers have long asked, and which +philosophy could never answer. + +Religion informs us that misery and sin were produced together. The +depravation of human will was followed by a disorder of the harmony of +nature; and by that providence which often places antidotes in the +neighbourhood of poisons, vice was checked by misery, lest it should +swell to universal and unlimited dominion. + +A state of innocence and happiness is so remote from all that we have +ever seen, that though we can easily conceive it possible, and may, +therefore, hope to attain it, yet our speculations upon it must be +general and confused. We can discover that where there is universal +innocence, there will probably be universal happiness; for, why should +afflictions be permitted to infest beings who are not in danger of +corruption from blessings, and where there is no use of terrour nor +cause of punishment? But in a world like ours, where our senses assault +us, and our hearts betray us, we should pass on from crime to crime, +heedless and remorseless, if misery did not stand in our way, and our +own pains admonish us of our folly. + +Almost all the moral good, which is left among us, is the apparent +effect of physical evil. + +Goodness is divided by divines into soberness, righteousness and +godliness. Let it be examined how each of these duties would be +practised, if there were no physical evil to enforce it. + +Sobriety, or temperance, is nothing but the forbearance of pleasure; and +if pleasure was not followed by pain, who would forbear it? We see every +hour those in whom the desire of present indulgence overpowers all sense +of past and all foresight of future misery. In a remission of the gout, +the drunkard returns to his wine, and the glutton to his feast; and if +neither disease nor poverty were felt or dreaded, every one would sink +down in idle sensuality, without any care of others, or of himself. To +eat and drink, and lie down to sleep, would be the whole business of +mankind. + +Righteousness, or the system of social duty, may be subdivided into +justice and charity. Of justice one of the Heathen sages has shown, with +great acuteness, that it was impressed upon mankind only by the +inconveniencies which injustice had produced. "In the first ages," says +he, "men acted without any rule but the impulse of desire; they +practised injustice upon others, and suffered it from others in their +turn; but in time it was discovered, that the pain of suffering wrong +was greater than the pleasure of doing it; and mankind, by a general +compact, submitted to the restraint of laws, and resigned the pleasure +to escape the pain." + +Of charity it is superfluous to observe, that it could have no place if +there were no want; for of a virtue which could not be practised, the +omission could not be culpable. Evil is not only the occasional, but the +efficient cause of charity; we are incited to the relief of misery by +the consciousness that we have the same nature with the sufferer, that +we are in danger of the same distresses, and may sometimes implore the +same assistance. + +Godliness, or piety, is elevation of the mind towards the Supreme Being, +and extension of the thoughts to another life. The other life is future, +and the Supreme Being is invisible. None would have recourse to an +invisible power, but that all other subjects have eluded their hopes. +None would fix their attention upon the future, but that they are +discontented with the present. If the senses were feasted with perpetual +pleasure, they would always keep the mind in subjection. Reason has no +authority over us, but by its power to warn us against evil. + +In childhood, while our minds are yet unoccupied, religion is impressed +upon them, and the first years of almost all who have been well educated +are passed in a regular discharge of the duties of piety. But as we +advance forward into the crowds of life, innumerable delights solicit +our inclinations, and innumerable cares distract our attention; the time +of youth is passed in noisy frolicks; manhood is led on from hope to +hope, and from project to project; the dissoluteness of pleasure, the +inebriation of success, the ardour of expectation, and the vehemence of +competition, chain down the mind alike to the present scene, nor is it +remembered how soon this mist of trifles must be scattered, and the +bubbles that float upon the rivulet of life be lost for ever in the +gulph of eternity. To this consideration scarcely any man is awakened +but by some pressing and resistless evil. The death of those from whom +he derived his pleasures, or to whom he destined his possessions, some +disease which shows him the vanity of all external acquisitions, or the +gloom of age, which intercepts his prospects of long enjoyment, forces +him to fix his hopes upon another state; and when he has contended with +the tempests of life till his strength fails him, he flies at last to +the shelter of religion. + +That misery does not make all virtuous, experience too certainly informs +us; but it is no less certain that of what virtue there is, misery +produces far the greater part. Physical evil may be, therefore, endured +with patience, since it is the cause of moral good; and patience itself +is one virtue by which we are prepared for that state in which evil +shall be no more[1]. + +[1] For a fuller exposition of Johnson's sentiments on this dark and + deep subject, see his Review of Soame Jenyns' Nature and Origin of + Evil. + + + + +No. 90. SATURDAY, JANUARY 5, 1760. + +It is a complaint which has been made from time to time, and which seems +to have lately become more frequent, that English oratory, however +forcible in argument, or elegant in expression, is deficient and +inefficacious, because our speakers want the grace and energy of action. + +Among the numerous projectors who are desirous to refine our manners, +and improve our faculties, some are willing to supply the deficiency of +our speakers[1]. We have had more than one exhortation to study the +neglected art of moving the passions, and have been encouraged to +believe that our tongues, however feeble in themselves, may, by the help +of our hands and legs, obtain an uncontroulable dominion over the most +stubborn audience, animate the insensible, engage the careless, force +tears from the obdurate, and money from the avaricious. + +If by sleight of hand, or nimbleness of foot, all these wonders can be +performed, he that shall neglect to attain the free use of his limbs may +be justly censured as criminally lazy. But I am afraid that no specimen +of such effects will easily be shown. If I could once find a speaker in +'Change-Alley raising the price of stocks by the power of persuasive +gestures, I should very zealously recommend the study of his art; but +having never seen any action by which language was much assisted, I have +been hitherto inclined to doubt whether my countrymen are not blamed too +hastily for their calm and motionless utterance. + +Foreigners of many nations accompany their speech with action; but why +should their example have more influence upon us than ours upon them? +Customs are not to be changed but for better. Let those who desire to +reform us show the benefits of the change proposed. When the Frenchman +waves his hands and writhes his body in recounting the revolutions of a +game at cards, or the Neapolitan, who tells the hour of the day, shows +upon his fingers the number which he mentions; I do not perceive that +their manual exercise is of much use, or that they leave any image more +deeply impressed by their bustle and vehemence of communication. + +Upon the English stage there is no want of action; but the difficulty of +making it at once various and proper, and its perpetual tendency to +become ridiculous, notwithstanding all the advantages which art and +show, and custom and prejudice can give it, may prove how little it can +be admitted into any other place, where it can have no recommendation +but from truth and nature. + +The use of English oratory is only at the bar, in the parliament, and in +the church. Neither the judges of our laws nor the representatives of +our people would be much affected by laboured gesticulation, or believe +any man the more because he rolled his eyes, or puffed his cheeks, or +spread abroad his arms, or stamped the ground, or thumped his breast, or +turned his eyes sometimes to the ceiling and sometimes to the floor. +Upon men intent only upon truth, the arm of an orator has little power; +a credible testimony, or a cogent argument will overcome all the art of +modulation, and all the violence of contortion. + +It is well known that, in the city which may be called the parent of +oratory, all the arts of mechanical persuasion were banished from the +court of supreme judicature. The judges of the Areopagus considered +action and vociferation as a foolish appeal to the external senses, and +unworthy to be practised before those who had no desire of idle +amusement, and whose only pleasure was to discover right. + +Whether action may not be yet of use in churches, where the preacher +addresses a mingled audience, may deserve inquiry. It is certain that +the senses are more powerful as the reason is weaker; and that he whose +ears convey little to his mind, may sometimes listen with his eyes till +truth may gradually take possession of his heart. If there be any use of +gesticulation, it must be applied to the ignorant and rude, who will be +more affected by vehemence than delighted by propriety. In the pulpit +little action can be proper, for action can illustrate nothing but that +to which it may be referred by nature or by custom. He that imitates by +his hand a motion which he describes, explains it by natural similitude; +he that lays his hand on his breast, when he expresses pity, enforces +his words by a customary allusion. But theology has few topicks to which +action can be appropriated; that action which is vague and indeterminate +will at last settle into habit, and habitual peculiarities are quickly +ridiculous. + +It is, perhaps, the character of the English to despise trifles; and +that art may surely be accounted a trifle which is at once useless and +ostentatious, which can seldom be practised with propriety, and which, +as the mind is more cultivated, is less powerful. Yet as all innocent +means are to be used for the propagation of truth, I would not deter +those who are employed in preaching to common congregations from any +practice which they may find persuasive: for, compared with the +conversion of sinners, propriety and elegance are less than nothing. + +[1] Johnson might here be glancing at the oratorical lectures of the + modern _Rhetor_ Sheridan, whose plans he delighted incessantly to + ridicule. See Boswell. Many acute remarks occur in Hume's Essay on + Eloquence. + + + + +No. 91. SATURDAY, JANUARY 12, 1760. + +It is common to overlook what is near, by keeping the eye fixed upon +something remote. In the same manner present opportunities are +neglected, and attainable good is slighted, by minds busied in extensive +ranges, and intent upon future advantages. Life, however short, is made +still shorter by waste of time, and its progress towards happiness, +though naturally slow, is yet retarded by unnecessary labour. + +The difficulty of obtaining knowledge is universally confessed. To fix +deeply in the mind the principles of science, to settle their +limitations, and deduce the long succession of their consequences; to +comprehend the whole compass of complicated systems, with all the +arguments, objections and solutions, and to reposite in the intellectual +treasury the numberless facts, experiments, apophthegms and positions, +which must stand single in the memory, and of which none has any +perceptible connexion with the rest, is a task which, though undertaken +with ardour and pursued with diligence, must at last be left unfinished +by the frailty of our nature. + +To make the way to learning either less short or less smooth, is +certainly absurd; yet this is the apparent effect of the prejudice which +seems to prevail among us in favour of foreign authors, and of the +contempt of our native literature, which this excursive curiosity must +necessarily produce. Every man is more speedily instructed by his own +language, than by any other; before we search the rest of the world for +teachers, let us try whether we may not spare our trouble by finding +them at home. + +The riches of the English language are much greater than they are +commonly supposed. Many useful and valuable books lie buried in shops +and libraries, unknown and unexamined, unless some lucky compiler opens +them by chance, and finds an easy spoil of wit and learning. I am far +from intending to insinuate, that other languages are not necessary to +him who aspires to eminence, and whose whole life is devoted to study; +but to him who reads only for amusement, or whose purpose is not to deck +himself with the honours of literature, but to be qualified for +domestick usefulness, and sit down content with subordinate reputation, +we have authors sufficient to fill up all the vacancies of his time, and +gratify most of his wishes for information. + +Of our poets I need say little, because they are, perhaps, the only +authors to whom their country has done justice. We consider the whole +succession from Spenser to Pope as superior to any names which the +continent can boast; and, therefore, the poets of other nations, however +familiarly they may be sometimes mentioned, are very little read, except +by those who design to borrow their beauties. + +There is, I think, not one of the liberal arts which may not be +competently learned in the English language. He that searches after +mathematical knowledge may busy himself among his own countrymen, and +will find one or other able to instruct him in every part of those +abstruse sciences. He that is delighted with experiments, and wishes to +know the nature of bodies from certain and visible effects, is happily +placed where the mechanical philosophy was first established by a +publick institution, and from which it was spread to all other +countries. + +The more airy and elegant studies of philology and criticism have little +need of any foreign help. Though our language, not being very +analogical, gives few opportunities for grammatical researches, yet we +have not wanted authors who have considered the principles of speech; +and with critical writings we abound sufficiently to enable pedantry to +impose rules which can seldom be observed, and vanity to talk of books +which are seldom read. + +But our own language has, from the Reformation to the present time, been +chiefly dignified and adorned by the works of our divines, who, +considered as commentators, controvertists, or preachers, have +undoubtedly left all other nations far behind them. No vulgar language +can boast such treasures of theological knowledge, or such multitudes of +authors at once learned, elegant and pious. Other countries and other +communions have authors, perhaps, equal in abilities and diligence to +ours; but if we unite number with excellence, there is certainly no +nation which must not allow us to be superior. Of morality little is +necessary to be said, because it is comprehended in practical divinity, +and is, perhaps, better taught in English sermons than in any other +books, ancient and modern. Nor shall I dwell on our excellence in +metaphysical speculations, because he that reads the works of our +divines will easily discover how far human subtilty has been able to +penetrate. + +Political knowledge is forced upon us by the form of our constitution; +and all the mysteries of government are discovered in the attack or +defence of every minister. The original law of society, the rights of +subjects and the prerogatives of kings, have been considered with the +utmost nicety, sometimes profoundly investigated, and sometimes +familiarly explained. + +Thus copiously instructive is the English language; and thus needless is +all recourse to foreign writers. Let us not, therefore, make our +neighbours proud by soliciting help which we do not want, nor discourage +our own industry by difficulties which we need not suffer. + + + + +No. 92. SATURDAY, JANUARY 19, 1760. + +Whatever is useful or honourable will be desired by many who never can +obtain it; and that which cannot be obtained when it is desired, +artifice or folly will be diligent to counterfeit. Those to whom fortune +has denied gold and diamonds decorate themselves with stones and metals, +which have something of the show, but little of the value; and every +moral excellence or intellectual faculty has some vice or folly which +imitates its appearance. + +Every man wishes to be wise, and they who cannot be wise are almost +always cunning. The less is the real discernment of those whom business +or conversation brings together, the more illusions are practised; nor +is caution ever so necessary as with associates or opponents of feeble +minds. + +Cunning differs from wisdom as twilight from open day. He that walks in +the sunshine goes boldly forward by the nearest way; he sees that where +the path is straight and even, he may proceed in security, and where it +is rough and crooked he easily complies with the turns, and avoids the +obstructions. But the traveller in the dusk fears more as he sees less; +he knows there may be danger, and, therefore, suspects that he is never +safe, tries every step before he fixes his foot, and shrinks at every +noise lest violence should approach him. Wisdom comprehends at once the +end and the means, estimates easiness or difficulty, and is cautious or +confident in due proportion. Cunning discovers little at a time, and has +no other means of certainty than multiplication of stratagems and +superfluity of suspicion. The man of cunning always considers that he +can never be too safe, and, therefore, always keeps himself enveloped in +a mist, impenetrable, as he hopes, to the eye of rivalry or curiosity. + +Upon this principle Tom Double has formed a habit of eluding the most +harmless question. What he has no inclination to answer, he pretends +sometimes not to hear, and endeavours to divert the inquirer's attention +by some other subject; but if he be pressed hard by repeated +interrogation, he always evades a direct reply. Ask him whom he likes +best on the stage; he is ready to tell that there are several excellent +performers. Inquire when he was last at the coffee-house; he replies, +that the weather has been bad lately. Desire him to tell the age of any +of his acquaintance; he immediately mentions another who is older or +younger. + +Will Puzzle values himself upon a long reach. He foresees every thing +before it will happen, though he never relates his prognostications till +the event is past. Nothing has come to pass for these twenty years of +which Mr. Puzzle had not given broad hints, and told at least that it +was not proper to tell. Of those predictions, which every conclusion +will equally verify, he always claims the credit, and wonders that his +friends did not understand them. He supposes very truly that much may be +known which he knows not, and, therefore, pretends to know much of which +he and all mankind are equally ignorant. I desired his opinion yesterday +of the German war, and was told, that if the Prussians were well +supported, something great may be expected; but that they have very +powerful enemies to encounter; that the Austrian general has long +experience, and the Russians are hardy and resolute; but that no human +power is invincible. I then drew the conversation to our own affairs, +and invited him to balance the probabilities of war and peace. He told +me that war requires courage, and negociation judgment, and that the +time will come when it will be seen, whether our skill in treaty is +equal to our bravery in battle. To this general prattle he will appeal +hereafter, and will demand to have his foresight applauded, whoever +shall at last be conquered or victorious. + +With Ned Smuggle all is a secret. He believes himself watched by +observation and malignity on every side, and rejoices in the dexterity +by which he has escaped snares that never were laid. Ned holds that a +man is never deceived if he never trusts, and, therefore, will not tell +the name of his tailor or his hatter. He rides out every morning for the +air, and pleases himself with thinking that nobody knows where he has +been. When he dines with a friend, he never goes to his house the +nearest way, but walks up a by-street to perplex the scent. When he has +a coach called, he never tells him at the door the true place to which +he is going, but stops him in the way that he may give him directions +where nobody can hear him. The price of what he buys or sells is always +concealed. He often takes lodgings in the country by a wrong name, and +thinks that the world is wondering where he can be hid. All these +transactions he registers in a book, which, he says, will some time or +other amaze posterity. + +It is remarked by Bacon, that many men try to procure reputation only by +objections, of which, if they are once admitted, the nullity never +appears, because the design is laid aside. "This false feint of wisdom," +says he, "is the ruin of business." The whole power of cunning is +privative; to say nothing, and to do nothing, is the utmost of its +reach. Yet men thus narrow by nature, and mean by art, are sometimes +able to rise by the miscarriages of bravery and the openness of +integrity; and by watching failures and snatching opportunities, obtain +advantages which belong properly to higher characters. + + + + +No. 93. SATURDAY, JANUARY 26, 1760. + +Sam Softly was bred a sugar-baker; but succeeding to a considerable +estate on the death of his elder brother, he retired early from +business, married a fortune, and settled in a country-house near +Kentish-town, Sam, who formerly was a sportsman, and in his +apprenticeship used to frequent Barnet races, keeps a high chaise, with +a brace of seasoned geldings. During the summer months, the principal +passion and employment of Sam's life is to visit, in this vehicle, the +most eminent seats of the nobility and gentry in different parts of the +kingdom, with his wife and some select friends. By these periodical +excursions Sam gratifies many important purposes. He assists the several +pregnancies of his wife; he shows his chaise to the best advantage; he +indulges his insatiable curiosity for finery, which, since he has turned +gentleman, has grown upon him to an extraordinary degree; he discovers +taste and spirit, and, what is above all, he finds frequent +opportunities of displaying to the party, at every house he sees, his +knowledge of family connexion. At first, Sam was contented with driving +a friend between London and his villa. Here he prided himself in +pointing out the boxes of the citizens on each side of the road, with an +accurate detail of their respective failures or successes in trade; and +harangued on the several equipages that were accidentally passing. Here, +too, the seats, interspersed on the surrounding hills, afforded ample +matter for Sam's curious discoveries. For one, he told his companion, a +rich Jew had offered money; and that a retired widow was courted at +another, by an eminent dry-salter. At the same time he discussed the +utility, and enumerated the expenses, of the Islington turnpike. But +Sam's ambition is at present raised to nobler undertakings. + +When the happy hour of the annual expedition arrives, the seat of the +chaise is furnished with Ogilvy's Book of Roads, and a choice quantity +of cold tongues. The most alarming disaster which can happen to our +hero, who thinks he _throws a whip_ admirably well, is to be overtaken +in a road which affords no _quarter_ for wheels. Indeed, few men possess +more skill or discernment for concerting and conducting a _party of +pleasure_. When a seat is to be surveyed, he has a peculiar talent in +selecting some shady bench in the park, where the company may most +commodiously refresh themselves with cold tongue, chicken and French +rolls; and is very sagacious in discovering what cool temple in the +garden will be best adapted for drinking tea, brought for this purpose, +in the afternoon, and from which the chaise may be resumed with the +greatest convenience. In viewing the house itself, he is principally +attracted by the chairs and beds, concerning the cost of which his +minute inquiries generally gain the clearest information. An agate table +easily diverts his eyes from the most capital strokes of Rubens, and a +Turkey carpet has more charms than a Titian. Sam, however, dwells with +some attention on the family portraits, particularly the most modern +ones; and as this is a topick on which the housekeeper usually harangues +in a more copious manner, he takes this opportunity of improving his +knowledge of intermarriages. Yet, notwithstanding this appearance of +satisfaction, Sam has some objection to all he sees. One house has too +much gilding; at another, the chimney-pieces are all monuments; at a +third, he conjectures that the beautiful canal must certainly be dried +up in a hot summer. He despises the statues at Wilton, because he thinks +he can see much better carving in Westminster Abbey. But there is one +general objection which he is sure to make at almost every house, +particularly at those which are most distinguished. He allows that all +the apartments are extremely fine, but adds, with a sneer, that they are +too fine to be inhabited. + +Misapplied genius most commonly proves ridiculous. Had Sam, as Nature +intended, contentedly continued in the calmer and less conspicuous +pursuits of sugar-baking, he might have been a respectable and useful +character. At present he dissipates his life in a specious idleness, +which neither improves himself nor his friends. Those talents, which +might have benefited society, he exposes to contempt by false +pretensions. He affects pleasures which he cannot enjoy, and is +acquainted only with those subjects on which he has no right to talk, +and which it is no merit to understand[1]. + +[1] This humorous paper was written by Mr. Thomas Warton, who is said to + have sketched from a character in real life, distantly related to + himself.--Drake's Essays, Vol. II. + + + + +No. 94. SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 2, 1760. + +It is common to find young men ardent and diligent in the pursuit of +knowledge; but the progress of life very often produces laxity and +indifference; and not only those who are at liberty to choose their +business and amusements, but those likewise whose professions engage +them in literary inquiries, pass the latter part of their time without +improvement, and spend the day rather in any other entertainment than +that which they might find among their books. + +This abatement of the vigour of curiosity is sometimes imputed to the +insufficiency of learning. Men are supposed to remit their labours, +because they find their labours to have been vain; and to search no +longer after truth and wisdom, because they at last despair of finding +them. + +But this reason is, for the most part, very falsely assigned. Of +learning, as of virtue, it may be affirmed, that it is at once honoured +and neglected. Whoever forsakes it will for ever look after it with +longing, lament the loss which he does not endeavour to repair, and +desire the good which he wants resolution to seize and keep. The Idler +never applauds his own idleness, nor does any man repent of the +diligence of his youth. + +So many hindrances may obstruct the acquisition of knowledge, that there +is little reason for wondering that it is in a few hands. To the greater +part of mankind the duties of life are inconsistent with much study; and +the hours which they would spend upon letters must be stolen from their +occupations and their families. Many suffer themselves to be lured by +more sprightly and luxurious pleasures from the shades of contemplation, +where they find seldom more than a calm delight, such as, though greater +than all others, its certainty and its duration being reckoned with its +power of gratification, is yet easily quitted for some extemporary joy, +which the present moment offers, and another, perhaps, will put out of +reach. + +It is the great excellence of learning, that it borrows very little from +time or place; it is not confined to season or to climate, to cities or +to the country, but may be cultivated and enjoyed where no other +pleasure can be obtained. But this quality, which constitutes much of +its value, is one occasion of neglect; what may be done at all times +with equal propriety, is deferred from day to day, till the mind is +gradually reconciled to the omission, and the attention is turned to +other objects. Thus habitual idleness gains too much power to be +conquered, and the soul shrinks from the idea of intellectual labour and +intenseness of meditation. + +That those who profess to advance learning sometimes obstruct it, cannot +be denied; the continual multiplication of books not only distracts +choice, but disappoints inquiry. To him that has moderately stored his +mind with images, few writers afford any novelty, or what little they +have to add to the common stock of learning, is so buried in the mass of +general notions, that, like silver mingled with the ore of lead, it is +too little to pay for the labour of separation; and he that has often +been deceived by the promise of a title, at last grows weary of +examining, and is tempted to consider all as equally fallacious. + +There are indeed some repetitions always lawful, because they never +deceive. He that writes the history of past times, undertakes only to +decorate known facts by new beauties of method or of style, or at most +to illustrate them by his own reflections. The author of a system, +whether moral or physical, is obliged to nothing beyond care of +selection and regularity of disposition. But there are others who claim +the name of authors merely to disgrace it, and fill the world with +volumes only to bury letters in their own rubbish. The traveller, who +tells, in a pompous folio, that he saw the Pantheon at Rome, and the +Medicean Venus at Florence; the natural historian, who, describing the +productions of a narrow island, recounts all that it has in common with +every other part of the world; the collector of antiquities, that +accounts every thing a curiosity which the ruins of Herculaneum happen +to emit, though an instrument already shown in a thousand repositories, +or a cup common to the ancients, the moderns and all mankind; may be +justly censured as the persecutors of students, and the thieves of that +time which never can be restored. + + + + +No. 95. SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 9, 1760. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Mr. Idler, + +It is, I think, universally agreed, that seldom any good is gotten by +complaint; yet we find that few forbear to complain, but those who are +afraid of being reproached as the authors of their own miseries. I hope, +therefore, for the common permission to lay my case before you and your +readers, by which I shall disburden my heart, though I cannot hope to +receive either assistance or consolation. + +I am a trader, and owe my fortune to frugality and industry. I began +with little; but by the easy and obvious method of spending less than I +gain, I have every year added something to my stock, and expect to have +a seat in the common-council at the next election. + +My wife, who was as prudent as myself, died six years ago, and left me +one son and one daughter, for whose sake I resolved never to marry +again, and rejected the overtures of Mrs. Squeeze, the broker's widow, +who had ten thousand pounds at her own disposal. + +I bred my son at a school near Islington; and when he had learned +arithmetick, and wrote a good hand, I took him into the shop, designing, +in about ten years, to retire to Stratford or Hackney, and leave him +established in the business. + +For four years he was diligent and sedate, entered the shop before it +was opened, and when it was shut, always examined the pins of the +window. In any intermission of business it was his constant practice to +peruse the leger. I had always great hopes of him, when I observed how +sorrowfully he would shake his head over a bad debt, and how eagerly he +would listen to me when I told him that he might at one time or other +become an alderman. + +We lived together with mutual confidence, till, unluckily, a visit was +paid him by two of his school-fellows, who were placed, I suppose, in +the army, because they were fit for nothing better: they came glittering +in their military dress, accosted their old acquaintance, and invited +him to a tavern, where, as I have been since informed, they ridiculed +the meanness of commerce, and wondered how a youth of spirit could spend +the prime of life behind a counter. I did not suspect any mischief. I +knew my son was never without money in his pocket, and was better able +to pay his reckoning than his companions; and expected to see him return +triumphing in his own advantages, and congratulating himself that he was +not one of those who expose their heads to a musket bullet for three +shillings a day. + +He returned sullen and thoughtful; I supposed him sorry for the hard +fortune of his friends; and tried to comfort him, by saying that the war +would soon be at an end, and that, if they had any honest occupation, +half-pay would be a pretty help. He looked at me with indignation; and +snatching up his candle, told me, as he went up stairs, that _he hoped +to see a battle yet_. + +Why he should hope to see a battle, I could not conceive, but let him go +quietly to sleep away his folly. Next day he made two mistakes in the +first bill, disobliged a customer by surly answers, and dated all his +entries in the journal in a wrong month. At night he met his military +companions again, came home late, and quarrelled with the maid. + +From this fatal interview he has gradually lost all his laudable +passions and desires. He soon grew useless in the shop, where, indeed, I +did not willingly trust him any longer; for he often mistook the price +of goods to his own loss, and once gave a promissory note instead of a +receipt. + +I did not know to what degree he was corrupted, till an honest tailor +gave me notice that he had bespoke a laced suit, which was to be left +for him at a house kept by the sister of one of my journeymen. I went to +this clandestine lodging, and found, to my amazement, all the ornaments +of a fine gentleman, which I know not whether he has taken upon credit, +or purchased with money subducted from the shop. + +This detection has made him desperate. He now openly declares his +resolution to be a gentleman; says that his soul is too great for a +counting-house; ridicules the conversation of city taverns; talks of new +plays, and boxes and ladies; gives duchesses for his toasts; carries +silver, for readiness, in his waistcoat-pocket; and comes home at night +in a chair, with such thunders at the door, as have more than once +brought the watchmen from their stands. + +Little expenses will not hurt us; and I could forgive a few juvenile +frolicks, if he would be careful of the main; but his favourite topick +is contempt of money, which, he says, is of no use but to be spent. +Riches, without honour, he holds empty things; and once told me to my +face, that wealthy plodders were only purveyors to men of spirit. + +He is always impatient in the company of his old friends, and seldom +speaks till he is warmed with wine; he then entertains us with accounts +that we do not desire to hear, of intrigues among lords and ladies, and +quarrels between officers of the guards; shows a miniature on his +snuff-box, and wonders that any man can look upon the new dancer without +rapture. + +All this is very provoking; and yet all this might be borne, if the boy +could support his pretensions. But, whatever he may think, he is yet far +from the accomplishments which he has endeavoured to purchase at so dear +a rate. I have watched him in publick places. He sneaks in like a man +that knows he is where he should not be; he is proud to catch the +slightest salutation, and often claims it when it is not intended. Other +men receive dignity from dress, but my booby looks always more meanly +for his finery. Dear Mr. Idler, tell him what must at last become of a +fop, whom pride will not suffer to be a trader, and whom long habits in +a shop forbid to be a gentleman. + +I am, Sir, &c. + +TIM WAINSCOT. + + + + +No. 96. SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 16, 1760. + + _Qui se volet esse potentem, + Animos domet ille feroces: + Nec victa libidine colla + Foedis submittat habenis._ BOETHIUS. + +Hacho, a king of Lapland, was in his youth the most renowned of the +Northern warriors. His martial achievements remain engraved on a pillar +of flint in the rocks of Hanga, and are to this day solemnly carolled to +the harp by the Laplanders, at the fires with which, they celebrate +their nightly festivities. Such was his intrepid spirit, that he +ventured to pass the lake Vether to the isle of Wizards, where he +descended alone into the dreary vault in which a magician had been kept +bound for six ages, and read the Gothick characters inscribed on his +brazen mace. His eye was so piercing, that, as ancient chronicles +report, he could blunt the weapons of his enemies only by looking at +them. At twelve years of age he carried an iron vessel of a prodigious +weight, for the length of five furlongs, in the presence of all the +chiefs of his father's castle. + +Nor was he less celebrated for his prudence and wisdom. Two of his +proverbs are yet remembered and repeated among Laplanders. To express +the vigilance of the Supreme Being, he was wont to say, "Odin's belt is +always buckled." To show that the most prosperous condition of life is +often hazardous, his lesson was, "When you slide on the smoothest ice, +beware of pits beneath." He consoled his countrymen, when they were once +preparing to leave the frozen deserts of Lapland, and resolved to seek +some warmer climate, by telling them, that the Eastern nations, +notwithstanding their boasted fertility, passed every night amidst the +horrours of anxious apprehension, and were inexpressibly affrighted, and +almost stunned, every morning, with the noise of the sun while he was +rising. + +His temperance and severity of manners were his chief praise. In his +early years he never tasted wine; nor would he drink out of a painted +cup. He constantly slept in his armour, with his spear in his hand; nor +would he use a battle-axe whose handle was inlaid with brass. He did +not, however, persevere in this contempt of luxury; nor did he close his +days with honour. + +One evening, after hunting the gulos or wild-dog, being bewildered in a +solitary forest, and having passed the fatigues of the day without any +interval of refreshment, he discovered a large store of honey in the +hollow of a pine. This was a dainty which he had never tasted before; +and being at once faint and hungry, he fed greedily upon it. From this +unusual and delicious repast he received so much satisfaction, that, at +his return home, he commanded honey to be served up at his table every +day. His palate, by degrees, became refined and vitiated; he began to +lose his native relish for simple fare, and contracted a habit of +indulging himself in delicacies; he ordered the delightful gardens of +his castle to be thrown open, in which the most luscious fruits had been +suffered to ripen and decay, unobserved and untouched, for many +revolving autumns, and gratified his appetite with luxurious desserts. +At length he found it expedient to introduce wine, as an agreeable +improvement, or a necessary ingredient, to his new way of living; and +having once tasted it, he was tempted, by little and little, to give a +loose to the excesses of intoxication. His general simplicity of life +was changed; he perfumed his apartments by burning the wood of the most +aromatick fir, and commanded his helmet to be ornamented with beautiful +rows of the teeth of the raindeer. Indolence and effeminacy stole upon +him by pleasing and imperceptible gradations, relaxed the sinews of his +resolution, and extinguished his thirst of military glory. + +While Hacho was thus immersed in pleasure and in repose, it was reported +to him, one morning, that the preceding night, a disastrous omen had +been discovered, and that bats and hideous birds had drunk up the oil +which nourished the perpetual lamp in the temple of Odin. About the same +time, a messenger arrived to tell him, that the king of Norway had +invaded his kingdom with a formidable army. Hacho, terrified as he was +with the omen of the night, and enervated with indulgence, roused +himself from his voluptuous lethargy, and, recollecting some faint and +few sparks of veteran valour, marched forward to meet him. Both armies +joined battle in the forest where Hacho had been lost after hunting; and +it so happened, that the king of Norway challenged him to single combat, +near the place where he had tasted the honey. The Lapland chief, languid +and long disused to arms, was soon overpowered; he fell to the ground; +and before his insulting adversary struck his head from his body, +uttered this exclamation, which the Laplanders still use as an early +lesson to their children: "The vicious man should date his destruction +from the first temptation. How justly do I fall a sacrifice to sloth and +luxury, in the place where I first yielded to those allurements which +seduced me to deviate from temperance and innocence! The honey which I +tasted in this forest, and not the hand of the king of Norway, conquers +Hacho[1]." + +[1] By Mr. Thomas Warton. + + + + +No. 97. SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 23, 1760. + +It may, I think, be justly observed, that few books disappoint their +readers more than the narrations of travellers. One part of mankind is +naturally curious to learn the sentiments, manners, and condition of the +rest; and every mind that has leisure or power to extend its views, must +be desirous of knowing in what proportion Providence has distributed the +blessings of nature, or the advantages of art, among the several nations +of the earth. + +This general desire easily procures readers to every book from which it +can expect gratification. The adventurer upon unknown coasts, and the +describer of distant regions, is always welcomed as a man who has +laboured for the pleasure of others, and who is able to enlarge our +knowledge and rectify our opinions; but when the volume is opened, +nothing is found but such general accounts as leave no distinct idea +behind them, or such minute enumerations as few can read with either +profit or delight. + +Every writer of travels should consider, that, like all other authors, +he undertakes either to instruct or please, or to mingle pleasure with +instruction. He that instructs must offer to the mind something to be +imitated, or something to be avoided; he that pleases must offer new +images to his reader, and enable him to form a tacit comparison of his +own state with that of others. + +The greater part of travellers tell nothing, because their method of +travelling supplies them with nothing to be told. He that enters a town +at night, and surveys it in the morning, and then hastens away to +another place, and guesses at the manners of the inhabitants by the +entertainment which his inn afforded him, may please himself for a time +with a hasty change of scenes, and a confused remembrance of palaces and +churches; he may gratify his eye with a variety of landscapes, and +regale his palate with a succession of vintages; but let him be +contented to please himself without endeavouring to disturb others. + +Why should he record excursions by which nothing could be learned, or +wish to make a show of knowledge, which, without some power of intuition +unknown to other mortals, he never could attain? + +Of those who crowd the world with their itineraries, some have no other +purpose than to describe the face of the country; those who sit idle at +home, and are curious to know what is done or suffered in distant +countries, may be informed by one of these wanderers, that on a certain +day he set out early with the caravan, and in the first hour's march +saw, towards the south, a hill covered with trees, then passed over a +stream, which ran northward with a swift course, but which is probably +dry in the summer months; that an hour after he saw something to the +right which looked at a distance like a castle with towers, but which he +discovered afterwards to be a craggy rock; that he then entered a +valley, in which he saw several trees tall and flourishing, watered by a +rivulet not marked in the maps, of which he was not able to learn the +name; that the road afterward grew stony, and the country uneven, where +he observed among the hills many hollows worn by torrents, and was told +that the road was passable only part of the year; that going on they +found the remains of a building, once, perhaps, a fortress to secure the +pass, or to restrain the robbers, of which the present inhabitants can +give no other account than that it is haunted by fairies; that they went +to dine at the foot of a rock, and travelled the rest of the day along +the banks of a river, from which the road turned aside towards evening, +and brought them within sight of a village, which was once a +considerable town, but which afforded them neither good victuals nor +commodious lodging. + +Thus he conducts his reader through wet and dry, over rough and smooth, +without incidents, without reflection; and, if he obtains his company +for another day, will dismiss him again at night, equally fatigued with +a like succession of rocks and streams, mountains and ruins. + +This is the common style of those sons of enterprise, who visit savage +countries, and range through solitude and desolation; who pass a desert, +and tell that it is sandy; who cross a valley, and find that it is +green. There are others of more delicate sensibility, that visit only +the realms of elegance and softness; that wander through Italian +palaces, and amuse the gentle reader with catalogues of pictures; that +hear masses in magnificent churches, and recount the number of the +pillars or variegations of the pavement. And there are yet others, who, +in disdain of trifles, copy inscriptions elegant and rude, ancient and +modern; and transcribe into their book the walls of every edifice, +sacred or civil. He that reads these books must consider his labour as +its own reward; for he will find nothing on which attention can fix, or +which memory can retain. + +He that would travel for the entertainment of others, should remember +that the great object of remark is human life. Every nation has +something peculiar in its manufactures, its works of genius, its +medicines, its agriculture, its customs and its policy. He only is a +useful traveller, who brings home something by which his country may be +benefited; who procures some supply of want, or some mitigation of evil, +which may enable his readers to compare their condition with that of +others, to improve it whenever it is worse, and whenever it is better to +enjoy it. + + + + +No. 98. SATURDAY, MARCH 1, 1760. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Sir, + +I am the daughter of a gentleman, who during his lifetime enjoyed a +small income which arose from a pension from the court, by which he was +enabled to live in a genteel and comfortable manner. + +By the situation of life in which he was placed, he was frequently +introduced into the company of those of much greater fortunes than his +own, among whom he was always received with complaisance, and treated +with civility. + +At six years of age I was sent to a boarding-school in the country, at +which I continued till my father's death. This melancholy event happened +at a time when I was by no means of sufficient age to manage for myself, +while the passions of youth continued unsubdued, and before experience +could guide my sentiments or my actions. + +I was then taken from school by an uncle, to the care of whom my father +had committed me on his dying-bed. With him I lived several years; and, +as he was unmarried, the management of his family was committed to me. +In this character I always endeavoured to acquit myself, if not with +applause, at least without censure. + +At the age of twenty-one, a young gentleman of some fortune paid his +addresses to me, and offered me terms of marriage. This proposal I +should readily have accepted, because from vicinity of residence, and +from many opportunities of observing his behaviour, I had, in some sort, +contracted an affection for him. My uncle, for what reason I do not +know, refused his consent to this alliance, though it would have been +complied with by the father of the young gentleman; and, as the future +condition of my life was wholly dependant on him, I was not willing to +disoblige him, and, therefore, though unwillingly, declined the offer. + +My uncle, who possessed a plentiful fortune, frequently hinted to me in +conversation, that at his death I should be provided for in such a +manner that I should be able to make my future life comfortable and +happy. As this promise was often repeated, I was the less anxious about +any provision for myself. In a short time my uncle was taken ill, and +though all possible means were made use of for his recovery, in a few +days he died. + +The sorrow arising from the loss of a relation, by whom I had been +always treated with the greatest kindness, however grievous, was not the +worst of my misfortunes. As he enjoyed an almost uninterrupted state of +health, he was the less mindful of his dissolution, and died intestate; +by which means his whole fortune devolved to a nearer relation, the heir +at law. + +Thus excluded from all hopes of living in the manner with which I have +so long flattered myself, I am doubtful what method I shall take to +procure a decent maintenance. I have been educated in a manner that has +set me above a state of servitude, and my situation renders me unfit for +the company of those with whom I have hitherto conversed. But, though +disappointed in my expectations, I do not despair. I will hope that +assistance may still be obtained for innocent distress, and that +friendship, though rare, is yet not impossible to be found. + +I am, Sir, Your humble servant, + +SOPHIA HEEDFUL.[1] + +[1] By an unknown correspondent. + + + + +No. 99. SATURDAY, MARCH 8, 1760. + +As Ortogrul of Basra was one day wandering along the streets of Bagdat, +musing on the varieties of merchandise which the shops offered to his +view, and observing the different occupations which busied the +multitudes on every side, he was awakened from the tranquillity of +meditation by a crowd that obstructed his passage. He raised his eyes, +and saw the chief visier, who, having returned from the divan, was +entering his palace. + +Ortogrul mingled with the attendants, and being supposed to have some +petition for the visier, was permitted to enter. He surveyed the +spaciousness of the apartments, admired the walls hung with golden +tapestry, and the floors covered with silken carpets, and despised the +simple neatness of his own little habitation. + +Surely, said he to himself, this palace is the seat of happiness, where +pleasure succeeds to pleasure, and discontent and sorrow can have no +admission. Whatever Nature has provided for the delight of sense, is +here spread forth to be enjoyed. What can mortals hope or imagine, which +the master of this palace has not obtained? The dishes of luxury cover +his table, the voice of harmony lulls him in his bowers; he breathes the +fragrance of the groves of Java, and sleeps upon the down of the cygnets +of Ganges. He speaks, and his mandate is obeyed; he wishes, and his wish +is gratified; all whom he sees obey him, and all whom he hears flatter +him. How different, Ortogrul, is thy condition, who art doomed to the +perpetual torments of unsatisfied desire, and who hast no amusement in +thy power that can withhold thee from thy own reflections! They tell +thee that thou art wise; but what does wisdom avail with poverty? None +will flatter the poor, and the wise have very little power of flattering +themselves. That man is surely the most wretched of the sons of +wretchedness, who lives with his own faults and follies always before +him, and who has none to reconcile him to himself by praise and +veneration. I have long sought content, and have not found it; I will +from this moment endeavour to be rich. + +Full of this new resolution, he shut himself up in his chamber for six +months, to deliberate how he should grow rich; he sometimes proposed to +offer himself as a counsellor to one of the kings of India, and +sometimes resolved to dig for diamonds in the mines of Golconda. One +day, after some hours passed in violent fluctuation of opinion, sleep +insensibly seized him in his chair; he dreamed that he was ranging a +desert country in search of some one that might teach him to grow rich; +and as he stood on the top of a hill shaded with cypress, in doubt +whither to direct his steps, his father appeared on a sudden standing +before him. Ortogrul, said the old man, I know thy perplexity; listen to +thy father; turn thine eye on the opposite mountain. Ortogrul looked, +and saw a torrent tumbling down the rocks, roaring with the noise of +thunder, and scattering its foam on the impending woods. Now, said his +father, behold the valley that lies between the hills. Ortogrul looked, +and espied a little well, out of which issued a small rivulet. Tell me +now, said his father, dost thou wish for sudden affluence, that may pour +upon thee like the mountain torrent, or for a slow and gradual increase, +resembling the rill gliding from the well? Let me be quickly rich, said +Ortogrul; let the golden stream be quick and violent. Look round thee, +said his father, once again. Ortogrul looked, and perceived the channel +of the torrent dry and dusty; but following the rivulet from the well, +he traced it to a wide lake, which the supply, slow and constant, kept +always full. He waked, and determined to grow rich by silent profit and +persevering industry. + +Having sold his patrimony, he engaged in merchandise, and in twenty +years purchased lands, on which he raised a house, equal in +sumptuousness to that of the visier, to which he invited all the +ministers of pleasure, expecting to enjoy all the felicity which he had +imagined riches able to afford. Leisure soon made him weary of himself, +and he longed to be persuaded that he was great and happy. He was +courteous and liberal; he gave all that approached him hopes of pleasing +him, and all who should please him hopes of being rewarded. Every art of +praise was tried, and every source of adulatory fiction was exhausted. +Ortogrul heard his flatterers without delight, because he found himself +unable to believe them. His own heart told him its frailties, his own +understanding reproached him with his faults. How long, said he, with a +deep sigh, have I been labouring in vain to amass wealth which at last +is useless! Let no man hereafter wish to be rich, who is already too +wise to be flattered. + + + + +No. 100. SATURDAY, MARCH 15, 1760, + +TO THE IDLER. + +Sir, + +The uncertainty and defects of language have produced very frequent +complaints among the learned; yet there still remain many words among us +undefined, which are very necessary to be rightly understood, and which +produce very mischievous mistakes when they are erroneously interpreted. + +I lived in a state of celibacy beyond the usual time. In the hurry first +of pleasure, and afterwards of business, I felt no want of a domestick +companion; but becoming weary of labour, I soon grew more weary of +idleness, and thought it reasonable to follow the custom of life, and to +seek some solace of my cares in female tenderness, and some amusement of +my leisure in female cheerfulness. + +The choice which has been long delayed is commonly made at last with +great caution. My resolution was, to keep my passions neutral, and to +marry only in compliance with my reason. I drew upon a page of my +pocket-book a scheme of all female virtues and vices, with the vices +which border upon every virtue, and the virtues which are allied to +every vice. I considered that wit was sarcastick, and magnanimity +imperious; that avarice was economical, and ignorance obsequious; and +having estimated the good and evil of every quality, employed my own +diligence, and that of my friends, to find the lady in whom nature and +reason had reached that happy mediocrity which is equally remote from +exuberance and deficience. + +Every woman had her admirers and her censurers; and the expectations +which one raised were by another quickly depressed; yet there was one in +whose favour almost all suffrages concurred. Miss Gentle was universally +allowed to be a good sort of woman. Her fortune was not large, but so +prudently managed, that she wore finer clothes, and saw more company, +than many who were known to be twice as rich. Miss Gentle's visits were +every where welcome; and whatever family she favoured with her company, +she always left behind her such a degree of kindness as recommended her +to others. Every day extended her acquaintance; and all who knew her +declared, that they never met with a better sort of woman. + +To Miss Gentle I made my addresses, and was received with great equality +of temper. She did not in the days of courtship assume the privilege of +imposing rigorous commands, or resenting slight offences. If I forgot +any of her injunctions, I was gently reminded; if I missed the minute of +appointment, I was easily forgiven. I foresaw nothing in marriage but a +halcyon calm, and longed for the happiness which was to be found in the +inseparable society of a good sort of woman. + +The jointure was soon settled by the intervention of friends, and the +day came in which Miss Gentle was made mine for ever. The first month +was passed easily enough in receiving and repaying the civilities of our +friends. The bride practised with great exactness all the niceties of +ceremony, and distributed her notice in the most punctilious proportions +to the friends who surrounded us with their happy auguries. + +But the time soon came when we were left to ourselves, and were to +receive our pleasures from each other; and I then began to perceive that +I was not formed to be much delighted by a good sort of woman. Her great +principle is, that the orders of a family must not be broken. Every hour +of the day has its employment inviolably appropriated; nor will any +importunity persuade her to walk in the garden at the time which she has +devoted to her needlework, or to sit up stairs in that part of the +forenoon which she has accustomed herself to spend in the back parlour. +She allows herself to sit half an hour after breakfast, and an hour +after dinner; while I am talking or reading to her, she keeps her eye +upon her watch, and when the minute of departure comes, will leave an +argument unfinished, or the intrigue of a play unravelled. She once +called me to supper when I was watching an eclipse, and summoned me at +another time to bed when I was going to give directions at a fire. + +Her conversation is so habitually cautious, that she never talks to me +but in general terms, as to one whom it is dangerous to trust. For +discriminations of character she has no names: all whom she mentions are +honest men and agreeable women. She smiles not by sensation, but by +practice. Her laughter is never excited but by a joke, and her notion of +a joke is not very delicate. The repetition of a good joke does not +weaken its effect; if she has laughed once, she will laugh again. + +She is an enemy to nothing but ill-nature and pride; but she has +frequent reason to lament that they are so frequent in the world. All +who are not equally pleased with the good and the bad, with the elegant +and gross, with the witty and the dull, all who distinguish excellence +from defect, she considers as ill-natured; and she condemns as proud all +who repress impertinence or quell presumption, or expect respect from +any other eminence than that of fortune, to which she is always willing +to pay homage. + +There are none whom she openly hates, for if once she suffers, or +believes herself to suffer, any contempt or insult, she never dismisses +it from her mind, but takes all opportunities to tell how easily she can +forgive. There are none whom she loves much better than others; for when +any of her acquaintance decline in the opinion of the world, she always +finds it inconvenient to visit them; her affection continues unaltered, +but it is impossible to be intimate with the whole town. + +She daily exercises her benevolence by pitying every misfortune that +happens to every family within her circle of notice; she is in hourly +terrours lest one should catch cold in the rain, and another be frighted +by the high wind. Her charity she shows by lamenting that so many poor +wretches should languish in the streets, and by wondering what the great +can think on that they do so little good with such large estates. + +Her house is elegant, and her table dainty, though she has little taste +of elegance, and is wholly free from vicious luxury; but she comforts +herself that nobody can say that her house is dirty, or that her dishes +are not well drest. + +This, Mr. Idler, I have found, by long experience, to be the character +of a good sort of woman, which I have sent you for the information of +those by whom a _good sort of woman_ and a _good woman_, may happen to +be used as equivalent terms, and who may suffer by the mistake, like + +Your humble servant, + +TIM WARNER. + + + + +No. 101. SATURDAY, MARCH 22, 1760. + + _Carpe hilaris: fuget heu! non revocanda dies._ + +Omar, the son of Hussan, had passed seventy-five years in honour and +prosperity. The favour of three successive califs had filled his house +with gold and silver; and, whenever he appeared, the benedictions of the +people proclaimed his passage. + +Terrestrial happiness is of short continuance. The brightness of the +flame is wasting its fuel; the fragrant flower is passing away in its +own odours. The vigour of Omar began to fail, the curls of beauty fell +from his head, strength departed from his hands, and agility from his +feet. He gave back to the calif the keys of trust and the seals of +secrecy; and sought no other pleasure for the remains of life than the +converse of the wise, and the gratitude of the good. + +The powers of his mind were yet unimpaired. His chamber was filled by +visitants, eager to catch the dictates of experience, and officious to +pay the tribute of admiration. Caled, the son of the viceroy of Egypt, +entered every day early, and retired late. He was beautiful and +eloquent; Omar admired his wit, and loved his docility. Tell me, said +Caled, thou to whose voice nations have listened, and whose wisdom is +known to the extremities of Asia, tell me how I may resemble Omar the +prudent. The arts by which you have gained power and preserved it, are +to you no longer necessary or useful; impart to me the secret of your +conduct, and teach me the plan upon which your wisdom has built your +fortune. + +Young man, said Omar, it is of little use to form plans of life. When I +took my first survey of the world, in my twentieth year, having +considered the various conditions of mankind, in the hour of solitude I +said thus to myself, leaning against a cedar which spread its branches +over my head: Seventy years are allowed to man; I have yet fifty +remaining: ten years I will allot to the attainment of knowledge, and +ten I will pass in foreign countries; I shall be learned, and, +therefore, shall be honoured; every city will shout at my arrival, and +every student will solicit my friendship. Twenty years thus passed will +store my mind with images, which I shall be busy through the rest of my +life in combining and comparing. I shall revel in inexhaustible +accumulations of intellectual riches; I shall find new pleasures for +every moment, and shall never more be weary of myself. I will, however, +not deviate too far from the beaten track of life, but will try what can +be found in female delicacy. I will marry a wife beautiful as the +Houries, and wise as Zobeide; with her I will live twenty years within +the suburbs of Bagdat, in every pleasure that wealth can purchase and +fancy can invent. I will then retire to a rural dwelling, pass my last +days in obscurity and contemplation, and lie silently down on the bed of +death. Through my life it shall be my settled resolution, that I will +never depend upon the smile of princes; that I will never stand exposed +to the artifices of courts; I will never pant for publick honours, nor +disturb my quiet with affairs of state. Such was my scheme of life, +which I impressed indelibly upon my memory. + +The first part of my ensuing time was to be spent in search of +knowledge; and I know not how I was diverted from my design. I had no +visible impediments without, nor any ungovernable passions within. I +regarded knowledge as the highest honour and the most engaging pleasure; +yet day stole upon day, and month glided after month, till I found that +seven years of the first ten had vanished, and left nothing behind them. +I now postponed my purpose of travelling; for why should I go abroad +while so much remained to be learned at home? I immured myself for four +years, and studied the laws of the empire. The fame of my skill reached +the judges; I was found able to speak upon doubtful questions, and was +commanded to stand at the footstool of the calif. I was heard with +attention, I was consulted with confidence, and the love of praise +fastened on my heart. + +I still wished to see distant countries, listened with rapture to the +relations of travellers, and resolved some time to ask my dismission, +that I might feast my soul with novelty; but my presence was always +necessary, and the stream of business hurried me along. Sometimes I was +afraid lest I should be charged with ingratitude; but I still proposed +to travel, and, therefore, would, not confine myself by marriage. + +In my fiftieth year I began to suspect that the time of travelling was +past, and thought it best to lay hold on the felicity yet in my power, +and indulge myself in domestick pleasures. But at fifty no man easily +finds a woman beautiful as the Houries, and wise as Zobeide. I inquired +and rejected, consulted and deliberated, till the sixty-second year made +me ashamed of gazing upon girls. I had now nothing left but retirement, +and for retirement I never found a time, till disease forced me from +publick employment. + +Such was my scheme, and such has been its consequence. With an +insatiable thirst for knowledge, I trifled away the years of +improvement; with a restless desire of seeing different countries, I +have always resided in the same city; with the highest expectation of +connubial felicity, I have lived unmarried; and with unalterable +resolutions of contemplative retirement, I am going to die within the +walls of Bagdat. + + + + +No. 102. SATURDAY, MARCH 29, 1760. + +It very seldom happens to man that his business is his pleasure. What is +done from necessity is so often to be done when against the present +inclination, and so often fills the mind with anxiety, that an habitual +dislike steals upon us, and we shrink involuntarily from the remembrance +of our task. This is the reason why almost every one wishes to quit his +employment; he does not like another state, but is disgusted with his +own. + +From this unwillingness to perform more than is required of that which +is commonly performed with reluctance, it proceeds that few authors +write their own lives. Statesmen, courtiers, ladies, generals and seamen +have given to the world their own stories, and the events with which +their different stations have made them acquainted. They retired to the +closet as to a place of quiet and amusement, and pleased themselves with +writing, because they could lay down the pen whenever they were weary. +But the author, however conspicuous, or however important, either in the +publick eye or in his own, leaves his life to be related by his +successors, for he cannot gratify his vanity but by sacrificing his +ease. + +It is commonly supposed that the uniformity of a studious life affords +no matter for a narration: but the truth is, that of the most studious +life a great part passes without study. An author partakes of the common +condition of humanity; he is born and married like another man; he has +hopes and fears, expectations and disappointments, griefs and joys, and +friends and enemies, like a courtier or a statesman; nor can I conceive +why his affairs should not excite curiosity as much as the whisper of a +drawing-room or the factions of a camp. + +Nothing detains the reader's attention more powerfully than deep +involutions of distress, or sudden vicissitudes of fortune; and these +might be abundantly afforded by memoirs of the sons of literature. They +are entangled by contracts which they know not how to fulfil, and +obliged to write on subjects which they do not understand. Every +publication is a new period of time, from which some increase or +declension of fame is to be reckoned. The gradations of a hero's life +are from battle to battle, and of an author's from book to book. + +Success and miscarriage have the same effects in all conditions. The +prosperous are feared, hated and flattered; and the unfortunate avoided, +pitied and despised. No sooner is a book published than the writer may +judge of the opinion of the world. If his acquaintance press round him +in publick places, or salute him from the other side of the street; if +invitations to dinner come thick upon him, and those with whom he dines +keep him to supper; if the ladies turn to him when his coat is plain, +and the footmen serve him with attention and alacrity; he may be sure +that his work has been praised by some leader of literary fashions. + +Of declining reputation the symptoms are not less easily observed. If +the author enters a coffee-house, he has a box to himself; if he calls +at a bookseller's, the boy turns his back and, what is the most fatal of +all prognosticks, authors will visit him in a morning, and talk to him +hour after hour of the malevolence of criticks, the neglect of merit, +the bad taste of the age and the candour of posterity. + +All this, modified and varied by accident and custom, would form very +amusing scenes of biography, and might recreate many a mind which is +very little delighted with conspiracies or battles, intrigues of a +court, or debates of a parliament; to this might be added all the +changes of the countenance of a patron, traced from the first glow which +flattery raises in his cheek, through ardour of fondness, vehemence of +promise, magnificence of praise, excuse of delay, and lamentation of +inability, to the last chill look of final dismission, when the one +grows weary of soliciting, and the other of hearing solicitation. Thus +copious are the materials which have been hitherto suffered to lie +neglected, while the repositories of every family that has produced a +soldier or a minister are ransacked, and libraries are crowded with +useless folios of state-papers which will never be read, and which +contribute nothing to valuable knowledge. + +I hope the learned will be taught to know their own strength and their +value, and, instead of devoting their lives to the honour of those who +seldom thank them for their labours, resolve at last to do justice to +themselves. + + + + +No. 103. SATURDAY, APRIL 5, 1760. + + _Respicere ad longae jussit spatia ultima vitae_. JUV. Sat. x. 275. + +Much of the pain and pleasure of mankind arises from the conjectures +which every one makes of the thoughts of others; we all enjoy praise +which we do not hear, and resent contempt which we do not see. The Idler +may, therefore, be forgiven, if he suffers his imagination to represent +to him what his readers will say or think when they are informed that +they have now his last paper in their hands. + +Value is more frequently raised by scarcity than by use. That which lay +neglected when it was common, rises in estimation as its quantity +becomes less. We seldom learn the true want of what we have till it is +discovered that we can have no more. + +This essay will, perhaps, be read with care even by those who have not +yet attended to any other; and he that finds this late attention +recompensed, will not forbear to wish that he had bestowed it sooner. + +Though the Idler and his readers have contracted no close friendship, +they are, perhaps, both unwilling to part. There are few things not +purely evil, of which we can say, without some emotion of uneasiness, +_this is the last_. Those who never could agree together, shed tears +when mutual discontent has determined them to final separation; of a +place which has been frequently visited, though without pleasure, the +last look is taken with heaviness of heart; and the Idler, with all his +chilness of tranquillity, is not wholly unaffected by the thought that +his last essay is now before him. + +The secret horrour of the last is inseparable from a thinking being, +whose life is limited, and to whom death is dreadful. We always make a +secret comparison between a part and the whole; the termination of any +period of life reminds us that life itself has likewise its termination; +when we have done any thing for the last time, we involuntarily reflect +that a part of the days allotted us is past, and that as more is past +there is less remaining. + +It is very happily and kindly provided, that in every life there are +certain pauses and interruptions, which force consideration upon the +careless, and seriousness upon the light; points of time where one +course of action ends, and another begins; and by vicissitudes of +fortune or alteration of employment, by change of place or loss of +friendship, we are forced to say of something, _this is the last_. + +An even and unvaried tenour of life always hides from our apprehension +the approach of its end. Succession is not perceived but by variation; +he that lives to-day as he lived yesterday, and expects that, as the +present day is, such will be the morrow, easily conceives time as +running in a circle and returning to itself. The uncertainty of our +duration is impressed commonly by dissimilitude of condition; it is only +by finding life changeable that we are reminded of its shortness. + +This conviction, however forcible at every new impression, is every +moment fading from the mind; and partly by the inevitable incursion of +new images, and partly by voluntary exclusion of unwelcome thoughts, we +are again exposed to the universal fallacy; and we must do another thing +for the last time, before we consider that the time is nigh when we +shall do no more. + +As the last Idler is published in that solemn week which the Christian +world has always set apart for the examination of the conscience, the +review of life, the extinction of earthly desires, and the renovation of +holy purposes; I hope that my readers are already disposed to view every +incident with seriousness, and improve it by meditation; and that, when +they see this series of trifles brought to a conclusion, they will +consider that, by out-living the Idler, they have passed weeks, months +and years, which are now no longer in their power; that an end must in +time be put to every thing great as to every thing little; that to life +must come its last hour, and to this system of being its last day, the +hour at which probation ceases, and repentance will be vain; the day in +which every work of the hand, and imagination of the heart shall be +brought to judgment, and an everlasting futurity shall be determined by +the past[1]. + +[1] This most solemn and impressive paper may be profitably compared + with the introduction of Bishop Heber's first Bampton-Lecture. + + + + +THE IDLER. No. 22[1] + +Many naturalists are of opinion, that the animals which we commonly +consider as mute, have the power of imparting their thoughts to one +another. That they can express general sensations is very certain; every +being that can utter sounds, has a different voice for pleasure and for +pain. The hound informs his fellows when he scents his game; the hen +calls her chickens to their food by her cluck, and drives them from +danger by her scream. + +Birds have the greatest variety of notes; they have, indeed, a variety, +which seems almost sufficient to make a speech adequate to the purposes +of a life which is regulated by instinct, and can admit little change or +improvement. To the cries of birds, curiosity or superstition has been +always attentive; many have studied the language of the feathered +tribes, and some have boasted that they understood it. + +The most skilful or most confident interpreters of the sylvan dialogues +have been commonly found among the philosophers of the east, in a +country where the calmness of the air, and the mildness of the seasons, +allow the student to pass a great part of the year in groves and bowers. +But what may be done in one place by peculiar opportunities, may be +performed in another by peculiar diligence. A shepherd of Bohemia has, +by long abode in the forests, enabled himself to understand the voice of +birds; at least he relates with great confidence a story, of which the +credibility is left to be considered by the learned. + +"As I was sitting" said he, "within a hollow rock, and watching my sheep +that fed in the valley, I heard two vultures interchangeably crying on +the summit of the cliff. Both voices were earnest and deliberate. My +curiosity prevailed over my care of the flock; I climbed slowly and +silently from crag to crag, concealed among the shrubs, till I found a +cavity where I might sit and listen without suffering or giving +disturbance." + +"I soon perceived, that my labour would be well repaid; for an old +vulture was sitting on a naked prominence, with her young about her, +whom she was instructing in the arts of a vulture's life, and preparing, +by the last lecture, for their final dismission to the mountains and the +skies." + +"My children," said the old vulture, "you will the less want my +instructions, because you have had my practice before your eyes; you +have seen me snatch from the farm the household fowl; you have seen me +seize the leveret in the bush, and the kid in the pasture; you know how +to fix your talons, and how to balance your flight when you are laden +with your prey. But you remember the taste of more delicious food; I +have often regaled you with the flesh of man." "Tell us," said the young +vultures, "where man may be found, and how he may be known; his flesh is +surely the natural food of a vulture. Why have you never brought a man +in your talons to the nest?" "He is too bulky," said the mother; "when +we find a man, we can only tear away his flesh, and leave his bones upon +the ground." "Since man is so big," said the young ones, "how do you +kill him? You are afraid of the wolf and of the bear, by what power are +vultures superior to man? is man more defenceless than a sheep?" "We +have not the strength of man," returned the mother, "and I am sometimes +in doubt whether we have the subtilty; and the vultures would seldom +feast upon his flesh, had not nature, that devoted him to our uses, +infused into him a strange ferocity, which I have never observed in any +other being that feeds upon the earth. Two herds of men will often meet +and shake the earth with noise, and fill the air with fire. When you +hear noise and see fire, with flashes along the ground, hasten to the +place with your swiftest wing, for men are surely destroying one +another; you will then find the ground smoking with blood, and covered +with carcasses, of which many are dismembered and mangled for the +convenience of the vulture." "But when men have killed their prey," said +the pupil, "why do they not eat it? When the wolf has killed a sheep, he +suffers not the vulture to touch it till he has satisfied himself. Is +not man another kind of wolf?" "Man," said the mother, "is the only +beast who kills that which he does not devour, and this quality makes +him so much a benefactor to our species." "If men kill our prey and lay +it in our way," said the young one, "what need shall we have of +labouring for ourselves?" "Because man will, sometimes," replied the +mother, "remain for a long time quiet in his den. The old vultures will +tell you when you are to watch his motions. When you see men in great +numbers moving close together, like a flock of storks, you may conclude +that they are hunting, and that you will soon revel in human blood." +"But still," said the young one, "I would gladly know the reason of this +mutual slaughter. I could never kill what I could not eat." "My child," +said the mother, "this is a question which I cannot answer, though I am +reckoned the most subtle bird of the mountain. When I was young, I used +frequently to visit the aerie of an old vulture, who dwelt upon the +Carpathian rocks; he had made many observations; he knew the places that +afforded prey round his habitation; as far in every direction as the +strongest wing can fly between the rising and setting of the summer sun; +he had fed year after year on the entrails of men. His opinion was, that +men had only the appearance of animal life, being really vegetables with +a power of motion; and that as the boughs of an oak are dashed together +by the storm, that swine may fatten upon the fallen acorns, so men are +by some unaccountable power driven one against another, till they lose +their motion, that vultures may be fed. Others think they have observed +something of contrivance and policy among these mischievous beings; and +those that hover more closely round them, pretend, that there is, in +every herd, one that gives directions to the rest, and seems to be more +eminently delighted with a wide carnage. What it is that entitles him to +such preeminence we know not; he is seldom the biggest or the swiftest, +but he shows by his eagerness and diligence that he is, more than any of +the others, a friend to the vultures." + +[1] This was the original No. 22, but on the republication of the work + in volumes, Dr. Johnson substituted what now stands under that head. + +END OF VOL. IV. + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Works of Samuel Johnson in Nine +Volumes, by Samuel Johnson + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12050 *** diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Works of Samuel Johnson in Nine Volumes + Volume IV: The Adventurer; The Idler + +Author: Samuel Johnson + +Release Date: April 15, 2004 [EBook #12050] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WORKS OF SAMUEL JOHNSON, VOL. IV. *** + + + + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Carol David and PG Distributed Proofreaders + + + + +DR. JOHNSON'S WORKS. + + + +THE + +ADVENTURER AND IDLER. + + + +THE + +WORKS + +OF + +SAMUEL JOHNSON, LL.D. + +IN NINE VOLUMES. + +VOLUME THE FOURTH. + + +MDCCCXXV. + + + +PREFATORY NOTICE + +TO + +THE ADVENTURER. + +The Adventurer was projected in the year 1752, by Dr. John Hawkesworth. +He was partly induced to undertake the work by his admiration of the +Rambler, which had now ceased to appear, the style and sentiments of +which evidently, from his commencement, he made the models of his +imitation. + +The first number was published on the seventh of November, 1752. The +quantity and price were the same as the Rambler, and also the days of +its appearance. He was joined in his labours by Dr. Johnson in 1753, +whose first paper is dated March 3, of that year; and after its +publication Johnson applied to his friend, Dr. Joseph Warton, for his +assistance, which was afforded: and the writers then were, besides the +projector Dr. Hawkesworth, Dr. Johnson, Dr. Joseph Warton, Dr. Bathurst, +Colman, Mrs. Chapone and the Hon. Hamilton Boyle, the accomplished son +of Lord Orrery [1]. + +Our business, however, in the present pages, does not lie with the +Adventurer in general, but only with Dr. Johnson's contributions; which +amount to the number of twenty-nine, beginning with No. 34, and ending +with No. 138. + +Much criticism has been employed in appropriating some of them, and the +carelessness of editors has overlooked several that have been +satisfactorily proved to be Johnson's own[2]. + +Mr. Boswell relies on internal evidence, which is unnecessary, since in +Dr. Warton's copy (and his authority on the subject will scarcely be +disputed) the following remark was found at the end: "The papers marked +T were written by Mr. S. Johnson." Mrs. Anna Williams asserted that he +dictated most of these to Dr. Bathurst, to whom he presented the +profits. The anecdote may well be believed from the usual benevolence of +Johnson and his well-known attachment to that amiable physician, whose +professional knowledge might undoubtedly have enabled him to offer hints +to Johnson in the progress of composition. Thus we may account for the +references to recondite medical writers in No. 39, which so staggered +Boswell and Malone in pronouncing on the genuineness of this paper. +Those who are familiar with Johnson's writings can have little +hesitation, we conceive, in recognising his style, and manner, and +sentiments in those papers which are now published under his name. They +may be considered as a continuation of the Rambler. The same subjects +are discussed; the interests of literature and of literary men, the +emptiness of praise and the vanity of human wishes. The same intimate +knowledge, of the town and its manners is displayed[3]; and occasionally +we are amused with humorous delineation of adventure and of +character[4]. + +From the greater variety of its subjects, aided, perhaps, by a growing +taste for periodical literature, the sale of the Adventurer was greater +than that of the Rambler on its first appearance. But still there were +those, who "talked of it as a catch-penny performance, carried on by a +set of needy and obscure scribblers[5]." So slowly is a national taste +for letters diffused, and so hardly do works of sterling merit, which +deal not in party-politics, nor exemplify their ethical discussions by +holding out living characters to censure or contempt, win the applause +of those, whose passions leave them no leisure for abstracted truth, and +whom virtue itself cannot please by its naked dignity. But, by such, +Johnson professed, that he had little expectation of his writings being +perused. Keeping then our main object more immediately in view, the +elucidation of Johnson's real character and motives, we cannot but +admire the prompt benevolence, with which he joined Hawkesworth in his +task, and the ready zeal, with which he embraced any opportunity of +promoting the interests of morality and virtue. "To a benevolent +disposition every state of life will afford some opportunities of +contributing to the welfare of mankind," is the characteristic opening +of his first Adventurer. And when we have admired the real excellence of +his heart, we must wonder at the vigour of a mind, which could so +abstract itself from its own sorrows and misfortunes, which too often +deaden our feelings of pity, as to sympathize with others in affliction, +and even to promote innocent cheerfulness. Bowed down by the loss of a +wife[6], on whom he had called from amidst the horrors of a hopeless +melancholy, to "hide him from the ills of life," and depressed by +poverty, "that numbs the soul with icy hand," his genius sank not +beneath a load, which might have crushed the loftiest; but the +"incumbrances of his fortune were shaken from his mind, 'as dew-drops +from a lion's mane[7].'" + +The same pure and exalted morality, which stamps their chief value on +the pages of the Rambler, instructs us in the lessons of the Adventurer. +Here is no cold doctrine of expediency or dangerous speculations on +moral approbation, no easy virtue which can be practised without a +struggle, and which interdicts the gratification of no passion but +malice: here is no compromise of personal sensuality, for an endurance +of others' frailties, amounting to an indifference of moral distinctions +altogether. Johnson boldly and, at once, propounds the real motives to +Christian conduct; and does not, with some ethical writers, in a slavish +dread of interfering with the more immediate office of the divine, hold +out slender inducements to virtuous action, which can never give us +strength to stem the torrent of passion; but holding with the acute Owen +Feltham[8], "that, as true religion cannot be without morality, no more +can morality, that is right, be without religion," Johnson ever directs +our attention, not to the world's smile or frown, but to the discharge +of the duty which Providence assigns us, by the consideration of the +awful approach of that night when no man can work. To conclude with the +appropriate words of an eloquent writer, "in his sublime discussions of +the most sacred truths, as no style can be too lofty nor conceptions too +grand for such a subject, so has the great master never exerted the +powers of his great genius with more signal success. Impiety shrinks +beneath his rebuke; the atheist trembles and repents; the dying sinner +catches a gleam of revealed hope; and all acknowledge the just +dispensations of eternal Wisdom[9]." + +FOOTNOTES: + +[1] For the general history of the Adventurer, the reader may be + referred to Chalmers' British Essayists, xxiii, Dr. Drake's Essays + on Rambler, Adventurer, &c. ii, and Boswell's Journal, 3rd edit. p. + 240. + +[2] Five of these, Nos. 39, 67, 74, 81, and 128, which Sir John Hawkins + omitted to arrange among the writings of Johnson, are given in this + edition. + +[3] See particularly the Letters of Misagargyrus. + +[4] The description in No. 84, of the incidents of a stage-coach + journey, so often imitated by succeeding writers, but, perhaps, + never surpassed, will exemplify the above remark. + +[5] See Lounger, No. 30. + +[6] "I have heard, he means to occasionally throw some papers into the + Daily Advertiser; but he has not begun yet, as he is in great + affliction, I fear, poor man, for the loss of his wife."--Letter + from Miss Talbot to Mrs. Carter. Mrs. Johnson died March 17, 1752. + +[7] See the Preface to Shakespeare. + +[8] Owen Feltham's Resolves. + +[9] Indian Observer, No. 1, 1793. See likewise Adventurers, Nos. 120, + 126, 128. + + + + +PREFATORY NOTICE + +TO + +THE IDLER. + + +The Idler may be ranked among the best attempts which have been made to +render our common newspapers the medium of rational amusement; and it +maintained its ground in this character longer than any of the papers +which have been brought forward by Colman and others on the same +plan[1]. Dr. Johnson first inserted this production in the Universal +Chronicle, or Weekly Gazette, April 15, 1758, four years after he had +desisted from his labours as an essayist. It would seem probable, that +Newbery, the publisher of the Chronicle, projected it as a vehicle for +Johnson's essays, since it ceased to appear when its pages were no +longer enlivened by the humour of the Idler. + +It is well known, that Johnson was not "built of the press and pen[2]" +when he composed the Rambler; but his sphere of observation had been +much enlarged since its publication, and his more ample means no longer +suffered his genius to be "limited by the narrow conversation, to which +men in want are inevitably condemned[3]." "The sublime philosophy of the +Rambler cannot properly be said to have portrayed the manners of the +times; it has seldom touched on subjects so transient and fugitive, but +has displayed the more fixed and invariable operations of the human +heart[4]." But the Idler breathes more of a worldly spirit, and savours +less of the closet than Johnson's earlier essays; and, accordingly, we +find delineated in its diversified pages the manners and characters of +the day in amusing variety and contrast. + +Written professedly for a paper of miscellaneous intelligence, the Idler +dwells on the passing incidents of the day, whether serious or light[5], +and abounds with party and political allusion. Johnson ever surveyed +mankind with the eye of a philosopher; but his own easier circumstances +would now present the world's aspect to him in brighter, fairer colours. +Besides, he could, with more propriety and less risk of misapprehension, +venture to trifle now, than when first he addressed the public. + +The World[6] had diffused its precepts, and corrected the fluctuating +manners of fashion, in the tone of fashionable raillery; and the +Connoisseur[7], by its gay and sparkling effusions, had forwarded the +advance of the public mind to that last stage of intellectual +refinement, in which alone a relish exists for delicate and half latent +irony. The plain and literal citizens of an earlier period, who conned +over what was "so nominated in the bend," would have misapprehended that +graceful playfulness of satire, elegant and fanciful as ever charmed the +leisure of the literary loungers of Athens. For, in the writings of +Bonnel Thornton and Colman, the philosophy of Aristippus may indeed be +said to be revived[8]. We would not, however, be supposed, by these +allusions, to imply that all the papers of the Idler are light and +sportive; or that Johnson for a moment lost sight of a grand moral end +in all his discussions. His mind only accommodated itself to the +circumstances in which it was placed, and diligently sought to avail +itself of each varying opportunity to admonish and to benefit, whether +from the chair of philosophic reproof or in the cheerful, social circle. +Whatever faults have been charged upon the Idler may be traced, we +conceive, to this source. Nobody at times, said Johnson, talks more +laxly than I do[9]. And this acknowledged propensity may well be +presumed to have affected the humorous and almost conversational tone of +the work before us. In the conscious pride of mental might and in the +easier moments of conversations, that illuminated the minds of +Reynolds[10] and of Burke, Johnson delighted to indulge in a lively +sophistry which might sometimes deceive himself, when at first he merely +wished to sport in elegant raillery or ludicrous paradox. When these +sallies were recorded and brought to bear against him on future +occasions, irritated at their misconstruction and conscious to himself +of an upright intention, or at most of only a wish to promote innocent +cheerfulness, he was too stubborn in retracting what he had thus +advanced. Hence, when menaced with a prosecution for his definition of +Excise in his Dictionary, so far from offering apology or promising +alteration, he called, in his Idler, a Commissioner of Excise the lowest +of human beings, and classes him with the scribbler for a party[11]. So +strange a definition and still less pardonable adherence to it can only +be justified on the ground of Johnson's warm feelings for the comfort of +the middle class of society. He knew that the execution of the excise +laws involved an intrusion into the privacies of domestic life, and +often violated the fireside of the unoffending and quiet tradesman. He, +therefore, disliked those laws altogether, and his warm-hearted +disposition would not allow him to calculate on their abstract +advantages with modern political economists, who, in their generalizing +doctrines, too frequently overlook individual comfort and interests. His +remarks, in the same paper, on the edition of the Pleas of the Crown +cannot be thus vindicated, and we must here lament an error in an +otherwise honest and well-intentioned mind[12]. Every impartial reader +of his works may thus easily trace to their origin Johnson's chief +political errors, and his research must terminate in admiration of a +writer, who never prostituted his pen to fear or favour; and who, though +erroneous often in his estimate of men and measures, still, in his +support of a party, firmly believed himself to be the advocate of +morality and right. His tenderness of spirit, his firm principles and +his deep sense of the emptiness of human pursuits are visible amidst the +lighter papers of the Idler, and his serious reflections are, perhaps, +more strikingly affecting as contrasted with mirthfulness and +pleasantry. + +His concluding paper and the one[13] on the death of his mother have, +perhaps, never been surpassed. Here is no affectation of sentimentality, +no morbid and puling complaints, but the dignified and chastened +expression of sorrow, which a mind, constituted as Johnson's, must have +experienced on the departure of a mother. A heart, tender and +susceptible of pathetic emotion, as his was, must have deeply felt, how +dreary it is to walk downward to the grave unregarded by her "who has +looked on our childhood." Occasions for more violent and perturbed grief +may occur to us in our passage through life, but the gentle, quiet death +of a mother speaks to us with "still small voice" of our wasting years, +and breaks completely and, at once, our earliest and most cherished +associations. This tenderness of spirit seems ever to have actuated +Johnson, and he is surely greatest when he breathes it forth over the +sorrows and miseries of man. Even in his humorous papers, he never +wounds feeling for the sake of raising a laugh, nor sports with folly, +but in the hope of reclaiming the vicious and with the design of warning +the young of the delusion and danger of an example, which can only be +imitated by the forfeiture of virtue and the practice of vice. "In +whatever he undertook, it was his determined purpose to rectify the +heart, to purify the passions, to give ardour to virtue and confidence +to truth[14]." + +FOOTNOTES: + +[1] The Genius was published by Colman in the St. James's Chronicle, + 1761, 1762. The Gentleman, by the same author, came out in the + London-Packet, 1775. The Grumbler was the production of the + Antiquary Grose, and appeared in the English Chronicle, 1791. + +[2] Owen Feltham. + +[3] Preface to Shakespeare. + +[4] Country Spectator, No. 1. + +[5] Idler, No. 6. + +[6] The World was published in 1753. + +[7] The Connoisseur appeared in 1754. + +[8] See Dr. Drake's Essays, II. + +[9] Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides. + +[10] See life of Sir Joshua Reynolds, prefixed to his Works by Malone, + i. 28, &c. + +[11] See Idler, No. 65 and Mr. Chalmers' Preface to vol. 33 of the + British Essayists. + +[12] See Gentleman's Magazine 1706. p. 272. + +[13] Idler, No. 41. + +[14] See Pursuits of Literature, Dialogue I. note. + + + + + +CONTENTS OF THE FOURTH VOLUME. + + +THE ADVENTURER. + + +34. Folly of extravagance. The story of Misargyrus + +39. On sleep + +41. Sequel of the story of Misargyrus + +45. The difficulty of forming confederacies + +50. On lying + +53. Misargyrus' account of his companions in the Fleet + +58. Presumption of modern criticism censured. Ancient poetry necessarily + obscure. Examples from Horace + +62. Misargyrus' account of his companions concluded + +67. On the trades of London + +69. Idle hope + +74. Apology for neglecting officious advice + +81. Incitement to enterprise and emulation. Some account of the + admirable Crichton + +84. Folly of false pretences to importance. A journey in a stagecoach + +85. Study, composition, and converse equally necessary to intellectual + accomplishment + +92. Criticism on the Pastorals of Virgil + +95. Apology for apparent plagiarism. Sources of literary variety + +99. Projectors injudiciously censured and applauded + +102. Infelicities of retirement to men of business + +107. Different opinions equally plausible + +108. On the uncertainty of human things + +111. The pleasures and advantages of industry + +115. The itch of writing universal + +119. The folly of creating artificial wants + +120. The miseries of life + +126. Solitude not eligible + +128. Men differently employed unjustly censured by each other + +131. Singularities censured + +137. Writers not a useless generation + +138. Their happiness and infelicity + + + +THE IDLER. + +1. The Idler's character. + +2. Invitation to correspondents. + +3. Idler's reason for writing. + +4. Charities and hospitals. + +5. Proposal for a female army. + +6. Lady's performance on horseback. + +7. Scheme for news-writers. + +8. Plan of military discipline. + +9. Progress of idleness. + +10. Political credulity. + +11. Discourses on the weather. + +12. Marriages, why advertised. + +13. The imaginary housewife. + +14. Robbery of time. + +15. Treacle's complaint of his wife. + +16. Drugget's retirement. + +17. Expedients of idlers. + +18. Drugget vindicated. + +19. Whirler's character. + +20. Capture of Louisbourg. + +21. Linger's history of listlessness. + +22. Imprisonment of debtors. + +23. Uncertainty of friendship. + +24. Man does not always think. + +25. New actors on the stage. + +26. Betty Broom's history. + +27. Power of habits. + +28. Wedding-day. Grocer's wife. Chairman. + +29. Betty Broom's history continued. + +30. Corruption of news-writers. + +31. Disguises of idleness. Sober's character. + +32. On Sleep. + +33. Journal of a fellow of a college. + +34. Punch and conversation compared. + +35. Auction-hunter described and ridiculed. + +36. The terrific diction ridiculed. + +37. Useful things easy of attainment. + +38. Cruelty shown to debtors in prison. + +39. The various uses of the bracelet. + +40. The art of advertising exemplified. + +41. Serious reflections on the death of a friend. + +42. Perdita's complaint of her father. + +43. Monitions on the flight of time. + +44. The use of memory considered. + +45. On painting. Portraits defended. + +46. Molly Quick's complaint of her mistress. + +47. Deborah Ginger's account of city-wits. + +48. The bustle of idleness described and ridiculed. + +49. Marvel's journey narrated. + +50. Marvel's journey paralleled. + +51. Domestick greatness unattainable. + +52. Self-denial necessary. + +53. Mischiefs of good company. + +54. Mrs. Savecharges' complaint. + +55. Authors' mortifications. + +56. Virtuosos whimsical. + +57. Character of Sophron. + +58. Expectations of pleasure frustrated. + +59. Books fall into neglect. + +60. Minim the critic. + +61. Minim the critic. + +62. Hanger's account of the vanity of riches. + +63. Progress of arts and language. + +64. Ranger's complaint concluded. + +65. Fate of posthumous works. + +66. Loss of ancient writings. + +67. Scholar's journal. + +68. History of translation. + +69. History of translation. + +70. Hard words defended. + +71. Dick Shifter's rural excursion. + +72. Regulation of memory. + +73. Tranquil's use of riches. + +74. Memory rarely deficient. + +75. Gelaleddin of Bassora. + +76. False criticisms on painting. + +77. Easy writing. + +78. Steady, Snug, Startle, Solid and Misty. + +79. Grand style of painting. + +80. Ladies' journey to London. + +81. Indian's speech to his countrymen. + +82. The true idea of beauty. + +83. Scruple, Wormwood, Sturdy and Gentle. + +84. Biography, how best performed. + +85. Books multiplied by useless compilations. + +86. Miss Heartless' want of a lodging. + +87. Amazonian bravery revived. + +88. What have ye done? + +89. Physical evil moral good. + +90. Rhetorical action considered. + +91. Sufficiency of the English language. + +92. Nature of cunning. + +93. Sam Softly's history. + +94. Obstructions of learning. + +95. Tim Wainscot's son a fine gentleman. + +96. Hacho of Lapland. + +97. Narratives of travellers considered. + +98. Sophia Heedful. + +99. Ortogrul of Basra. + +100. The good sort of woman. + +101. Omar's plan of life. + +102. Authors inattentive to themselves. + +103. Honour of the last. + + + + + +THE + +ADVENTURER. + + + +No. 34. SATURDAY, MARCH 3, 1753. + + _Has toties optata exegit gloria pænas._ Juv. Sat. x. 187. + Such fate pursues the votaries of praise. + +TO THE ADVENTURER. + +SIR, + +Fleet Prison, Feb. 24. + +To a benevolent disposition, every state of life will afford some +opportunities of contributing to the welfare of mankind. Opulence and +splendour are enabled to dispel the cloud of adversity, to dry up the +tears of the widow and the orphan, and to increase the felicity of all +around them: their example will animate virtue, and retard the progress +of vice. And even indigence and obscurity, though without power to +confer happiness, may at least prevent misery, and apprize those who are +blinded by their passions, that they are on the brink of irremediable +calamity. Pleased, therefore, with the thought of recovering others from +that folly which has embittered my own days, I have presumed to address +the ADVENTURER from the dreary mansions of wretchedness and despair, of +which the gates are so wonderfully constructed, as to fly open for the +reception of strangers, though they are impervious as a rock of adamant +to such as are within them: + + --_Facilis descensus Averni: + Noctes utque dies patet atri janua Ditis: + Sed revocare gradum, superasque evadere ad auras, + Hoc opus, hic labor est_.--VIRG. Æn. vi. 126. + + The gates of hell are open night and day; + Smooth the descent, and easy is the way: + But to return and view the cheerful skies; + In this the task and mighty labour lies. DRYDEN. + +Suffer me to acquaint you, Sir, that I have glittered at the ball, and +sparkled in the circle; that I have had the happiness to be the unknown +favourite of an unknown lady at the masquerade, have been the delight of +tables of the first fashion, and envy of my brother beaux; and to +descend a little lower, it is, I believe, still remembered, that Messrs. +Velours and d'Espagne stand indebted for a great part of their present +influence at Guildhall, to the elegance of my shape, and the graceful +freedom of my carriage. + + --_Sed quæ præclara et prospera tanti, + Ut rebus lætis par sit mensura malorum_? Juv. Sat. x. 97. + + See the wild purchase of the bold and vain, + Where every bliss is bought with equal pain! + +As I entered into the world very young, with an elegant person and a +large estate, it was not long before I disentangled myself from the +shackles of religion; for I was determined to the pursuit of pleasure, +which according to my notions consisted in the unrestrained and +unlimited gratifications of every passion and every appetite; and as +this could not be obtained under the frowns of a perpetual dictator, I +considered religion as my enemy; and proceeding to treat her with +contempt and derision, was not a little delighted, that the +unfashionableness of her appearance, and the unanimated uniformity of +her motions, afforded frequent opportunities for the sallies of my +imagination. + +Conceiving now that I was sufficiently qualified to laugh away scruples, +I imparted my remarks to those among my female favourites, whose virtue +I intended to attack; for I was well assured, that pride would be able +to make but a weak defence, when religion was subverted; nor was my +success below my expectation: the love of pleasure is too strongly +implanted in the female breast, to suffer them scrupulously to examine +the validity of arguments designed to weaken restraint; all are easily +led to believe, that whatever thwarts their inclination must be wrong: +little more, therefore, was required, than by the addition of some +circumstances, and the exaggeration of others, to make merriment supply +the place of demonstration; nor was I so senseless as to offer arguments +to such as could not attend to them, and with whom a repartee or catch +would more effectually answer the same purpose. This being effected, +there remained only "the dread of the world:" but Roxana soared too +high, to think the opinion of others worthy her notice; Lætitia seemed +to think of it only to declare, that "if all her hairs were worlds," she +should reckon them "well lost for love;" and Pastorella fondly +conceived, that she could dwell for ever by the side of a bubbling +fountain, content with her swain and fleecy care; without considering +that stillness and solitude can afford satisfaction only to innocence. + +It is not the desire of new acquisitions, but the glory of conquests, +that fires the soldier's breast; as indeed the town is seldom worth +much, when it has suffered the devastations of a siege; so that though I +did not openly declare the effects of my own prowess, which is forbidden +by the laws of honour, it cannot be supposed that I was very solicitous +to bury my reputation, or to hinder accidental discoveries. To have +gained one victory, is an inducement to hazard a second engagement: and +though the success of the general should be a reason for increasing the +strength of the fortification, it becomes, with many, a pretence for an +immediate surrender, under the notion that no power is able to withstand +so formidable an adversary; while others brave the danger, and think it +mean to surrender, and dastardly to fly. Melissa, indeed, knew better; +and though she could not boast the apathy, steadiness, and inflexibility +of a Cato, wanted not the more prudent virtue of Scipio, and gained the +victory by declining the contest. + +You must not, however, imagine, that I was, during this state of +abandoned libertinism, so fully convinced of the fitness of my own +conduct, as to be free from uneasiness. I knew very well, that I might +justly be deemed the pest of society, and that such proceedings must +terminate in the destruction of my health and fortune; but to admit +thoughts of this kind was to live upon the rack: I fled, therefore, to +the regions of mirth and jollity, as they are called, and endeavoured +with Burgundy, and a continual rotation of company, to free myself from +the pangs of reflection. From these orgies we frequently sallied forth +in quest of adventures, to the no small terrour and consternation of all +the sober stragglers that came in our way: and though we never injured, +like our illustrious progenitors, the Mohocks, either life or limbs; yet +we have in the midst of Covent Garden buried a tailor, who had been +troublesome to some of our fine gentlemen, beneath a heap of +cabbage-leaves and stalks, with this conceit, + + _Satia te caule quem semper cupisti_. + + Glut yourself with cabbage, of which you have always been greedy. + +There can be no reason for mentioning the common exploits of breaking +windows and bruising the watch; unless it be to tell you of the device +of producing before the justice broken lanterns, which have been paid +for an hundred times; or their appearances with patches on their heads, +under pretence of being cut by the sword that was never drawn: nor need +I say any thing of the more formidable attack of sturdy chairmen, armed +with poles; by a slight stroke of which, the pride of Ned Revel's face +was at once laid flat, and that effected in an instant, which its most +mortal foe had for years assayed in vain. I shall pass over the +accidents that attended attempts to scale windows, and endeavours to +dislodge signs from their hooks: there are many "hair-breadth 'scapes," +besides those in the "imminent deadly breach;" but the rake's life, +though it be equally hazardous with that of the soldier, is neither +accompanied with present honour nor with pleasing retrospect; such is, +and such ought to be, the difference between the enemy and the preserver +of his country. + +Amidst such giddy and thoughtless extravagance, it will not seem +strange, that I was often the dupe of coarse flattery. When Mons. +L'Allonge assured me, that I thrust quart over arm better than any man +in England, what could I less than present him with a sword that cost me +thirty pieces? I was bound for a hundred pounds for Tom Trippet, because +he had declared that he would dance a minuet with any man in the three +kingdoms except myself. But I often parted with money against my +inclination, either because I wanted the resolution to refuse, or +dreaded the appellation of a niggardly fellow; and I may be truly said +to have squandered my estate, without honour, without friends, and +without pleasure. The last may, perhaps, appear strange to men +unacquainted with the masquerade of life: I deceived others, and I +endeavoured to deceive myself; and have worn the face of pleasantry and +gaiety, while my heart suffered the most exquisite torture. + +By the instigation and encouragement of my friends, I became at length +ambitious of a seat in parliament; and accordingly set out for the town +of Wallop in the west, where my arrival was welcomed by a thousand +throats, and I was in three days sure of a majority: but after drinking +out one hundred and fifty hogsheads of wine, and bribing two-thirds of +the corporation twice over, I had the mortification to find that the +borough had been before sold to Mr. Courtly. + +In a life of this kind, my fortune, though considerable, was presently +dissipated; and as the attraction grows more strong the nearer any body +approaches the earth, when once a man begins to sink into poverty, he +falls with velocity always increasing; every supply is purchased at a +higher and higher price, and every office of kindness obtained with +greater and greater difficulty. Having now acquainted you with my state +of elevation, I shall, if you encourage the continuance of my +correspondence, shew you by what steps I descended from a first floor in +Pall-Mall to my present habitation[1]. + +I am, Sir, + +Your humble servant, + +MISARGYRUS. + +[1] For an account of the disputes raised on this paper, and on the + other letters of Misargyrus, see Preface. + + + + +No. 39. TUESDAY, MARCH 20, 1753. + + --[Greek: Oduseus phulloisi kalupsato to d ar Athaenae + Hypnon ep ommasi cheu, ina min pauseie tachista + Dusponeos kamatoio.]--HOM. E. 491 + + --Pallas pour'd sweet slumbers on his soul; + And balmy dreams, the gift of soft repose, + Calm'd all his pains, and banish'd all his woes. POPE. + +If every day did not produce fresh instances of the ingratitude of +mankind, we might, perhaps, be at a loss, why so liberal and impartial a +benefactor as sleep, should meet with so few historians or panegyrists. +Writers are so totally absorbed by the business of the day, as never to +turn their attention to that power, whose officious hand so seasonably +suspends the burthen of life; and without whose interposition man would +not be able to endure the fatigue of labour, however rewarded, or the +struggle with opposition, however successful. + +Night, though she divides to many the longest part of life, and to +almost all the most innocent and happy, is yet unthankfully neglected, +except by those who pervert her gifts. + +The astronomers, indeed, expect her with impatience, and felicitate +themselves upon her arrival: Fontenelle has not failed to celebrate her +praises; and to chide the sun for hiding from his view the worlds, which +he imagines to appear in every constellation. Nor have the poets been +always deficient in her praises: Milton has observed of the night, that +it is "the pleasant time, the cool, the silent." + +These men may, indeed, well be expected to pay particular homage to +night; since they are indebted to her, not only for cessation of pain, +but increase of pleasure; not only for slumber, but for knowledge. But +the greater part of her avowed votaries are the sons of luxury; who +appropriate to festivity the hours designed for rest; who consider the +reign of pleasure as commencing when day begins to withdraw her busy +multitudes, and ceases to dissipate attention by intrusive and unwelcome +variety; who begin to awake to joy when the rest of the world sinks into +insensibility; and revel in the soft affluence of flattering and +artificial lights, which "more shadowy set off the face of things." + +Without touching upon the fatal consequences of a custom, which, as +Ramazzini observes, will be for ever condemned, and for ever retained; +it may be observed, that however sleep may be put off from time to time, +yet the demand is of so importunate a nature, as not to remain long +unsatisfied: and if, as some have done, we consider it as the tax of +life, we cannot but observe it as a tax that must be paid, unless we +could cease to be men; for Alexander declared, that nothing convinced +him that he was not a divinity, but his not being able to live without +sleep. + +To live without sleep in our present fluctuating state, however +desirable it might seem to the lady in Clelia, can surely be the wish +only of the young or the ignorant; to every one else, a perpetual vigil +will appear to be a state of wretchedness, second only to that of the +miserable beings, whom Swift has in his travels so elegantly described, +as "supremely cursed with immortality." + +Sleep is necessary to the happy to prevent satiety, and to endear life +by a short absence; and to the miserable, to relieve them by intervals +of quiet. Life is to most, such as could not be endured without frequent +intermission of existence: Homer, therefore, has thought it an office +worthy of the goddess of wisdom, to lay Ulysses asleep when landed on +Phaeacia. + +It is related of Barretier, whose early advances in literature scarce +any human mind has equalled, that he spent twelve hours of the +four-and-twenty in sleep: yet this appears from the bad state of his +health, and the shortness of his life, to have been too small a respite +for a mind so vigorously and intensely employed: it is to be regretted, +therefore, that he did not exercise his mind less, and his body more: +since by this means, it is highly probable, that though he would not then +have astonished with the blaze of a comet, he would yet have shone with +the permanent radiance of a fixed star. + +Nor should it be objected, that there have been many men who daily spend +fifteen or sixteen hours in study: for by some of whom this is reported +it has never been done; others have done it for a short time only; and +of the rest it appears, that they employed their minds in such +operations as required neither celerity nor strength, in the low +drudgery of collating copies, comparing authorities, digesting +dictionaries, or accumulating compilations. + +Men of study and imagination are frequently upbraided by the industrious +and plodding sons of care, with passing too great a part of their life +in a state of inaction. But these defiers of sleep seem not to remember +that though it must be granted them that they are crawling about before +the break of day, it can seldom be said that they are perfectly awake; +they exhaust no spirits, and require no repairs; but lie torpid as a +toad in marble, or at least are known to live only by an inert and +sluggish locomotive faculty, and may be said, like a wounded snake, to +"drag their slow length along." + +Man has been long known among philosophers by the appellation of the +microcosm, or epitome of the world: the resemblance between the great +and little world might, by a rational observer, be detailed to many +particulars; and to many more by a fanciful speculatist. I know not in +which of these two classes I shall be ranged for observing, that as the +total quantity of light and darkness allotted in the course of the year +to every region of the earth is the same, though distributed at various +times and in different portions; so, perhaps, to each individual of the +human species, nature has ordained the same quantity of wakefulness and +sleep; though divided by some into a total quiescence and vigorous +exertion of their faculties, and, blended by others in a kind of +twilight of existence, in a state between dreaming and reasoning, in +which they either think without action, or act without thought. + +The poets are generally well affected to sleep: as men who think with +vigour, they require respite from thought; and gladly resign themselves +to that gentle power, who not only bestows rest, but frequently leads +them to happier regions, where patrons are always kind, and audiences +are always candid; where they are feasted in the bowers of imagination, +and crowned with flowers divested of their prickles, and laurels of +unfading verdure. + +The more refined and penetrating part of mankind, who take wide surveys +of the wilds of life, who see the innumerable terrours and distresses +that are perpetually preying on the heart of man, and discern with +unhappy perspicuity, calamities yet latent in their causes, are glad to +close their eyes upon the gloomy prospect, and lose in a short +insensibility the remembrance of others' miseries and their own. The +hero has no higher hope, than that, after having routed legions after +legions, and added kingdom to kingdom, he shall retire to milder +happiness, and close his days in social festivity. The wit or the sage +can expect no greater happiness, than that, after having harassed his +reason in deep researches, and fatigued his fancy in boundless +excursions, he shall sink at night in the tranquillity of sleep. + +The poets, among all those that enjoy the blessings of sleep, have been +least ashamed to acknowledge their benefactor. How much Statius +considered the evils of life as assuaged and softened by the balm of +slumber, we may discover by that pathetick invocation, which he poured +out in his waking nights: and that Cowley, among the other felicities of +his darling solitude, did not forget to number the privilege of sleeping +without disturbance, we may learn from the rank that he assigns among +the gifts of nature to the poppy, "which is scattered," says he, "over +the fields of corn, that all the needs of man may be easily satisfied, +and that bread and sleep may be found together." + + Si quis invisum Cereri benignæ + Me putat germen, vehementer errat; + Illa me in partem recipit libenter + Fertilis agri. + + Meque frumentumque simul per omnes + Consulens mundo Dea spargit oras; + Crescite, O! dixit, duo magna sustentaculu + vitæ, + + Carpe, mortalis, mea dona lætus, + Carpe, nec plantas alias require, + Sed satur panis, satur et soporis, + Cætera sperue, + + He wildly errs who thinks I yield + Precedence in the well-cloth'd field, + Tho' mix'd with wheat I grow: + Indulgent Ceres knew my worth, + And to adorn the teeming earth, + She bade the Poppy blow. + + Nor vainly gay the sight to please, + But blest with pow'r mankind to ease, + The goddess saw me rise: + "Thrive with the life-supporting grain," + She cried, "the solace of the swain, + The cordial of his eyes. + + Seize, happy mortal, seize the good; + My hand supplies thy sleep and food, + And makes thee truly blest: + With plenteous meals enjoy the day, + In slumbers pass the night away, + And leave to fate the rest." C. B. + +Sleep, therefore, as the chief of all earthly blessings, is justly +appropriated to induustry and temperance; the refreshing rest, and the +peaceful night, are the portion only of him who lies down weary with +honest labour, and free from the fumes of indigested luxury; it is the +just doom of laziness and gluttony, to be inactive without ease, and +drowsy without tranquillity. + +Sleep has been often mentioned as the image of death[1]; "so like it," +says Sir Thomas Brown, "that I dare not trust it without my prayers:" +their resemblance is, indeed, apparent and striking; they both, when +they seize the body, leave the soul at liberty: and wise is he that +remembers of both, that they can be safe and happy only by virtue. + +[1] + Lovely sleep! thou beautiful image of terrible death, + Be thou my pillow-companion, my angel of rest! + Come, O sleep! for thine are the joys of living and dying: + Life without sorrow, and death with no anguish, no pain. + _From the German of Schmidt_ + + + + +No. 41. TUESDAY, MARCH 27, 1753. + + --_Si mutabile pectus + Est tibi, consiliis, non curribus, utere nostris; + Dum potes, et solidis etiamnum sedibus adstas, + Dumque male optatos nondum premis inscius axes._ OVID. Met. ii. 143. + + --Th' attempt forsake, + And not my chariot but my counsel take; + While yet securely on the earth you stand; + Nor touch the horses with too rash a hand. ADDISON. + +TO THE ADVENTURER. + +Sir, Fleet, March 24. + +I now send you the sequel of my story, which had not been so long +delayed, if I could have brought myself to imagine, that any real +impatience was felt for the fate of Misargyrus; who has travelled no +unbeaten track to misery, and consequently can present the reader only +with such incidents as occur in daily life. You have seen me, Sir, in +the zenith of my glory, not dispensing the kindly warmth of an +all-cheering sun: but, like another Phaeton, scorching and blasting +every thing round me. I shall proceed, therefore, to finish my career, +and pass as rapidly as possible through the remaining vicissitudes of my +life. + +When I first began to be in want of money, I made no doubt of an +immediate supply. The newspapers were perpetually offering directions to +men, who seemed to have no other business than to gather heaps of gold +for those who place their supreme felicity in scattering it. I posted +away, therefore, to one of these advertisers, who by his proposals +seemed to deal in thousands; and was not a little chagrined to find, +that this general benefactor would have nothing to do with any larger +sum than thirty pounds, nor would venture that without a joint note from +myself and a reputable housekeeper, or for a longer time than three +months. + +It was not yet so bad with me, as that I needed to solicit surety for +thirty pounds: yet partly from the greediness that extravagance always +produces, and partly from a desire of seeing the humour of a petty +usurer, a character of which I had hitherto lived in ignorance, I +condescended to listen to his terms. He proceeded to inform me of my +great felicity in not falling into the hands of an extortioner; and +assured me, that I should find him extremely moderate in his demands: he +was not, indeed, certain that he could furnish me with the whole sum, +for people were at this particular time extremely pressing and +importunate for money: yet, as I had the appearance of a gentleman, he +would try what he could do, and give me his answer in three days. + +At the expiration of the time, I called upon him again; and was again +informed of the great demand for money, and that, "money was money now:" +he then advised me to be punctual in my payment, as that might induce +him to befriend me hereafter; and delivered me the money, deducting at +the rate of five and thirty _per cent_. with another panegyrick upon his +own moderation. + +I will not tire you with the various practices of usurious oppression; +but cannot omit my transaction with Squeeze on Tower-hill, who, finding +me a young man of considerable expectations, employed an agent to +persuade me to borrow five hundred pounds, to be refunded by an annual +payment of twenty per cent_. during the joint lives of his daughter +Nancy Squeeze and myself. The negociator came prepared to enforce his +proposal with all his art; but, finding that I caught his offer with the +eagerness of necessity, he grew cold and languid; "he had mentioned it +out of kindness; he would try to serve me: Mr. Squeeze was an honest +man, but extremely cautious." In three days he came to tell me, that his +endeavours had been ineffectual, Mr. Squeeze having no good opinion of +my life; but that there was one expedient remaining: Mrs. Squeeze could +influence her husband, and her good will might be gained by a +compliment. I waited that afternoon on Mrs. Squeeze, and poured out +before her the flatteries which usually gain access to rank and beauty: +I did not then know, that there are places in which the only compliment +is a bribe. Having yet credit with a jeweller, I afterwards procured a +ring of thirty guineas, which I humbly presented, and was soon admitted +to a treaty with Mr. Squeeze. He appeared peevish and backward, and my +old friend whispered me, that he would never make a dry bargain: I +therefore invited him to a tavern. Nine times we met on the affair; nine +times I paid four pounds for the supper and claret; and nine guineas I +gave the agent for good offices. I then obtained the money, paying ten +_per cent_. advance; and at the tenth meeting gave another supper, and +disbursed fifteen pounds for the writings. + +Others who styled themselves brokers, would only trust their money upon +goods: that I might, therefore, try every art of expensive folly, I took +a house and furnished it. I amused myself with despoiling my moveables +of their glossy appearance, for fear of alarming the lender with +suspicions: and in this I succeeded so well, that he favoured me with +one hundred and sixty pounds upon that which was rated at seven hundred. +I then found that I was to maintain a guardian about me to prevent the +goods from being broken or removed. This was, indeed, an unexpected tax; +but it was too late to recede: and I comforted myself, that I might +prevent a creditor, of whom I had some apprehensions, from seizing, by +having a prior execution always in the house. + +By such means I had so embarrassed myself, that my whole attention was +engaged in contriving excuses, and raising small sums to quiet such as +words would no longer mollify. It cost me eighty pounds in presents to +Mr. Leech the attorney, for his forbearance of one hundred, which he +solicited me to take when I had no need. I was perpetually harassed with +importunate demands, and insulted by wretches, who a few months before +would not have dared to raise their eyes from the dust before me. I +lived in continual terrour, frighted by every noise at the door, and +terrified at the approach of every step quicker than common. I never +retired to rest without feeling the justness of the Spanish proverb, +"Let him who sleeps too much, borrow the pillow of a debtor:" my +solicitude and vexation kept me long waking; and when I had closed my +eyes, I was pursued or insulted by visionary bailiffs. + +When I reflected upon the meanness of the shifts I had reduced myself +to, I could not but curse the folly and extravagance that had +overwhelmed me in a sea of troubles, from which it was highly improbable +that I should ever emerge. I had some time lived in hopes of an estate, +at the death of my uncle; but he disappointed me by marrying his +housekeeper; and, catching an opportunity soon after of quarrelling with +me, for settling twenty pounds a year upon a girl whom I had seduced, +told me that he would take care to prevent his fortune from being +squandered upon prostitutes. + +Nothing now remained, but the chance of extricating myself by marriage; +a scheme which, I flattered myself, nothing but my present distress +would have made me think on with patience. I determined, therefore, to +look out for a tender novice, with a large fortune, at her own disposal; +and accordingly fixed my eyes upon Miss Biddy Simper. I had now paid her +six or seven visits; and so fully convinced her of my being a gentleman +and a rake, that I made no doubt that both her person and fortune would +be soon mine. + +At this critical time, Miss Gripe called upon me, in a chariot bought +with my money, and loaded with trinkets that I had, in my days of +affluence, lavished on her. Those days were now over; and there was +little hope that they would ever return. She was not able to withstand +the temptation of ten pounds that Talon the bailiff offered her, but +brought him into my apartment disguised in a livery; and taking my sword +to the window, under pretence of admiring the workmanship, beckoned him +to seize me. + +Delay would have been expensive without use, as the debt was too +considerable for payment or bail: I, therefore, suffered myself to be +immediately conducted to gaol. + + _Vestibulum ante ipsum, primisque in faucibus Orci, + Luctus et ultrices posuere cubilia curae: + Pallentesque habitant morbi, tristisque senectus, + Et metus, et malesuada fames, et turpis egestas._ VIRG. Aen. vi. 273. + + Just in the gate and in the jaws of hell, + Revengeful cares and sullen sorrows dwell; + And pale diseases, and repining age; + Want, fear, and famine's unresisted rage. DRYDEN. + +Confinement of any kind is dreadful; a prison is sometimes able to shock +those, who endure it in a good cause: let your imagination, therefore, +acquaint you with what I have not words to express, and conceive, if +possible, the horrours of imprisonment attended with reproach and +ignominy, of involuntary association with the refuse of mankind, with +wretches who were before too abandoned for society, but, being now freed +from shame or fear, are hourly improving their vices by consorting with +each other. + +There are, however, a few, whom, like myself, imprisonment has rather +mortified than hardened: with these only I converse; and of these you +may, perhaps, hereafter receive some account from + +Your humble servant, MISARGYRUS. + + + + +No. 45. TUESDAY, APRIL 10, 1753 + + _Nulla fides regni sociis, omnisque potestas + Impatiens consortis erit._--LUCAN. Lib. i. 92. + + No faith of partnership dominion owns: + Still discord hovers o'er divided thrones. + +It is well known, that many things appear plausible in speculation, +which can never be reduced to practice; and that of the numberless +projects that have flattered mankind with theoretical speciousness, few +have served any other purpose than to show the ingenuity of their +contrivers. A voyage to the moon, however romantick and absurd the +scheme may now appear, since the properties of air have been better +understood, seemed highly probable to many of the aspiring wits in the +last century, who began to dote upon their glossy plumes, and fluttered +with impatience for the hour of their departure: + + --_Pereunt vestigia mille + Ante fugam, absentemque ferit gravis ungula campum._ + + Hills, vales and floods appear already crost; + And, ere he starts, a thousand steps are lost. POPE. + +Among the fallacies which only experience can detect, there are some, of +which scarcely experience itself can destroy the influence; some which, +by a captivating show of indubitable certainty, are perpetually gaining +upon the human mind; and which, though every trial ends in +disappointment, obtain new credit as the sense of miscarriage wears +gradually away, persuade us to try again what we have tried already, and +expose us by the same failure to double vexation. + +Of this tempting, this delusive kind, is the expectation of great +performances by confederated strength. The speculatist, when he has +carefully observed how much may be performed by a single hand, +calculates by a very easy operation the force of thousands, and goes on +accumulating power till resistance vanishes before it; then rejoices in +the success of his new scheme, and wonders at the folly or idleness of +former ages, who have lived in want of what might so readily be +procured, and suffered themselves to be debarred from happiness by +obstacles which one united effort would have so easily surmounted. + +But this gigantick phantom of collective power vanishes at once into air +and emptiness, at the first attempt to put it into action. The different +apprehensions, the discordant passions, the jarring interests of men, +will scarcely permit that many should unite in one undertaking. + +Of a great and complicated design, some will never be brought to discern +the end; and of the several means by which it may be accomplished, the +choice will be a perpetual subject of debate, as every man is swayed in +his determination by his own knowledge or convenience. In a long series +of action some will languish with fatigue, and some be drawn off by +present gratifications; some will loiter because others labour, and some +will cease to labour because others loiter: and if once they come within +prospect of success and profit, some will be greedy and others envious; +some will undertake more than they can perform, to enlarge their claims +of advantage; some will perform less than they undertake, lest their +labours should chiefly turn to the benefit of others. + +The history of mankind informs us that a single power is very seldom +broken by a confederacy. States of different interests, and aspects +malevolent to each other, may be united for a time by common distress; +and in the ardour of self-preservation fall unanimously upon an enemy, +by whom they are all equally endangered. But if their first attack can +be withstood, time will never fail to dissolve their union: success and +miscarriage will be equally destructive: after the conquest of a +province, they will quarrel in the division; after the loss of a battle, +all will be endeavouring to secure themselves by abandoning the rest. + +From the impossibility of confining numbers to the constant and uniform +prosecution of a common interest, arises the difficulty of securing +subjects against the encroachment of governours. Power is always +gradually stealing away from the many to the few, because the few are +more vigilant and consistent; it still contracts to a smaller number, +till in time it centres in a single person. + +Thus all the forms of governments instituted among mankind, perpetually +tend towards monarchy; and power, however diffused through the whole +community, is, by negligence or corruption, commotion or distress, +reposed at last in the chief magistrate. + +"There never appear," says Swift, "more than five or six men of genius +in an age; but if they were united, the world could not stand before +them." It is happy, therefore, for mankind, that of this union there is +no probability. As men take in a wider compass of intellectual survey, +they are more likely to choose different objects of pursuit; as they see +more ways to the same end, they will be less easily persuaded to travel +together; as each is better qualified to form an independent scheme of +private greatness, he will reject with greater obstinacy the project of +another; as each is more able to distinguish himself as the head of a +party, he will less readily be made a follower or an associate. + +The reigning philosophy informs us, that the vast bodies which +constitute the universe, are regulated in their progress through the +ethereal spaces by the perpetual agency of contrary forces; by one of +which they are restrained from deserting their orbits, and losing +themselves in the immensity of heaven; and held off by the other from +rushing together, and clustering round their centre with everlasting +cohesion. + +The same contrariety of impulse may be perhaps discovered in the motions +of men: we are formed for society, not for combination; we are equally +unqualified to live in a close connexion with our fellow-beings, and in +total separation from them; we are attracted towards each other by +general sympathy, but kept back from contact by private interests. + +Some philosophers have been foolish enough to imagine, that improvements +might be made in the system of the universe, by a different arrangement +of the orbs of heaven; and politicians, equally ignorant and equally +presumptuous, may easily be led to suppose, that the happiness of our +world would be promoted by a different tendency of the human mind. It +appears, indeed, to a slight and superficial observer, that many things +impracticable in our present state, might be easily effected, if mankind +were better disposed to union and co-operation: but a little reflection +will discover, that if confederacies were easily formed, they would lose +their efficacy, since numbers would be opposed to numbers, and unanimity +to unanimity; and instead of the present petty competitions of +individuals or single families, multitudes would be supplanting +multitudes, and thousands plotting against thousands. + +There is no class of the human species, of which the union seems to have +been more expected, than of the learned: the rest of the world have +almost always agreed to shut scholars up together in colleges and +cloisters; surely not without hope, that they would look for that +happiness in concord, which they were debarred from finding in variety; +and that such conjunctions of intellect would recompense the munificence +of founders and patrons, by performances above the reach of any single +mind. + +But discord, who found means to roll her apple into the banqueting +chamber of the goddesses, has had the address to scatter her laurels in +the seminaries of learning. The friendship of students and of beauties +is for the most part equally sincere, and equally durable: as both +depend for happiness on the regard of others, on that of which the value +arises merely from comparison, they are both exposed to perpetual +jealousies, and both incessantly employed in schemes to intercept the +praises of each other. + +I am, however, far from intending to inculcate that this confinement of +the studious to studious companions, has been wholly without advantage +to the publick: neighbourhood, where it does not conciliate friendship, +incites competition; and he that would contentedly rest in a lower +degree of excellence, where he had no rival to dread, will be urged by +his impatience of inferiority to incessant endeavours after great +attainments. + +These stimulations of honest rivalry are, perhaps, the chief effects of +academies and societies; for whatever be the bulk of their joint +labours, every single piece is always the production of an individual, +that owes nothing to his colleagues but the contagion of diligence, a +resolution to write, because the rest are writing, and the scorn of +obscurity while the rest are illustrious[1]. + + +[1] It may not be uninteresting to place in immediate comparison with + this finished paper its first rough draught as given in Boswell, + vol. i. + + "_Confederacies difficult; why_. + + "Seldom in war a match for single persons--nor in peace; therefore + kings make themselves absolute. Confederacies in learning--every + great work the work of one. _Bruy_. Scholars friendship like + ladies. Scribebamus, &c. Mart. The apple of discord--the laurel of + discord--the poverty of criticism. Swift's opinion of the power of + six geniuses united. That union scarce possible. His remarks just; + --man a social, not steady nature. Drawn to man by words, repelled + by passions. Orb drawn by attraction, rep. [_repelled_] by + centrifugal. + + "Common danger unites by crushing other passions--but they return. + Equality hinders compliance. Superiority produces insolence and + envy. Too much regard in each to private interest;--too little. + + "The mischiefs of private and exclusive societies.--The fitness of + social attraction diffused through the whole. The mischiefs of too + partial love of our country. Contraction of moral duties. + [Greek: Oi philoi, ou philos]. + + "Every man moves upon his own centre, and therefore repels others + from too near a contact, though he may comply with some general + laws. Of confederacy with superiors every one knows the + inconvenience. With equals no authority;--every man his own + opinion--his own interest. + + "Man and wife hardly united;--scarce ever without children. + Computation, if two to one against two, how many against five? If + confederacies were easy--useless;--many oppresses many.--If possible + only to some, dangerous. _Principum amicitias_." + + + + +No. 50. SATURDAY, APRIL 28, 1753. + + _Quicunque turpi fraude semel innotuit, + Etiamsi verum dicit, amittit fidem._ PHÆD. Lib. i. Fab. x. l. + + The wretch that often has deceiv'd, + Though truth he speaks, is ne'er believ'd. + +When Aristotle was once asked, what a man could gain by uttering +falsehoods? he replied, "Not to be credited when he shall tell the +truth." + +The character of a liar is at once so hateful and contemptible, that +even of those who have lost their virtue it might be expected that from +the violation of truth they should be restrained by their pride. Almost +every other vice that disgraces human nature, may be kept in countenance +by applause and association: the corrupter of virgin innocence sees +himself envied by the men, and at least not detested by the women; the +drunkard may easily unite with beings, devoted like himself to noisy +merriments or silent insensibility, who will celebrate his victories +over the novices of intemperance, boast themselves the companions of his +prowess, and tell with rapture of the multitudes whom unsuccessful +emulation has hurried to the grave; even the robber and the cut-throat +have their followers, who admire their address and intrepidity, their +stratagems of rapine, and their fidelity to the gang. + +The liar, and only the liar, is invariably and universally despised, +abandoned, and disowned: he has no domestick consolations, which he can +oppose to the censure of mankind; he can retire to no fraternity, where +his crimes may stand in the place of virtues; but is given up to the +hisses of the multitude, without friend and without apologist. It is the +peculiar condition of falsehood, to be equally detested by the good and +bad: "The devils," says Sir Thomas Brown, "do not tell lies to one +another; for truth is necessary to all societies: nor can the society of +hell subsist without it." + +It is natural to expect, that a crime thus generally detested should be +generally avoided; at least, that none should expose himself to unabated +and unpitied infamy, without an adequate temptation; and that to guilt +so easily detected, and so severely punished, an adequate temptation +would not readily be found. + +Yet so it is, that in defiance of censure and contempt, truth is +frequently violated; and scarcely the most vigilant and unremitted +circumspection will secure him that mixes with mankind, from being +hourly deceived by men of whom it can scarcely be imagined, that they +mean any injury to him or profit to themselves: even where the subject +of conversation could not have been expected to put the passions in +motion, or to have excited either hope or fear, or zeal or malignity, +sufficient to induce any man to put his reputation in hazard, however +little he might value it, or to overpower the love of truth, however +weak might be its influence. + +The casuists have very diligently distinguished lies into their several +classes, according to their various degrees of malignity: but they have, +I think, generally omitted that which is most common, and perhaps, not +least mischievous; which, since the moralists have not given it a name, +I shall distinguish as the _lie of vanity_. + +To vanity may justly be imputed most of the falsehoods which every man +perceives hourly playing upon his ear, and, perhaps, most of those that +are propagated with success. To the lie of commerce, and the lie of +malice, the motive is so apparent, that they are seldom negligently or +implicitly received; suspicion is always watchful over the practices of +interest; and whatever the hope of gain, or desire of mischief, can +prompt one man to assert, another is by reasons equally cogent incited +to refute. But vanity pleases herself with such slight gratifications, +and looks forward to pleasure so remotely consequential, that her +practices raise no alarm, and her stratagems are not easily discovered. + +Vanity is, indeed, often suffered to pass unpursued by suspicion, +because he that would watch her motions, can never be at rest: fraud and +malice are bounded in their influence; some opportunity of time and +place is necessary to their agency; but scarce any man is abstracted one +moment from his vanity; and he, to whom truth affords no gratifications, +is generally inclined to seek them in falsehoods. + +It is remarked by Sir Kenelm Digby, "that every man has a desire to +appear superior to others, though it were only in having seen what they +have not seen." Such an accidental advantage, since it neither implies +merit, nor confers dignity, one would think should not be desired so +much as to be counterfeited: yet even this vanity, trifling as it is, +produces innumerable narratives, all equally false; but more or less +credible in proportion to the skill or confidence of the relater. How +many may a man of diffusive conversation count among his acquaintances, +whose lives have been signalized by numberless escapes; who never cross +the river but in a storm, or take a journey into the country without +more adventures than befel the knights-errant of ancient times in +pathless forests or enchanted castles! How many must he know, to whom +portents and prodigies are of daily occurrence; and for whom nature is +hourly working wonders invisible to every other eye, only to supply them +with subjects of conversation. + +Others there are that amuse themselves with the dissemination of +falsehood, at greater hazard of detection and disgrace; men marked out +by some lucky planet for universal confidence and friendship, who have +been consulted in every difficulty, intrusted with every secret, and +summoned to every transaction: it is the supreme felicity of these men, +to stun all companies with noisy information; to still doubt, and +overbear opposition, with certain knowledge or authentick intelligence. +A liar of this kind, with a strong memory or brisk imagination, is often +the oracle of an obscure club, and, till time discovers his impostures, +dictates to his hearers with uncontrouled authority; for if a publick +question be started, he was present at the debate; if a new fashion be +mentioned, he was at court the first day of its appearance; if a new +performance of literature draws the attention of the publick, he has +patronized the author, and seen his work in manuscript; if a criminal of +eminence be condemned to die, he often predicted his fate, and +endeavoured his reformation: and who that lives at a distance from the +scene of action, will dare to contradict a man, who reports from his own +eyes and ears, and to whom all persons and affairs are thus intimately +known? + +This kind of falsehood is generally successful for a time, because it is +practised at first with timidity and caution: but the prosperity of the +liar is of short duration; the reception of one story is always an +incitement to the forgery of another less probable; and he goes on to +triumph over tacit credulity, till pride or reason rises up against him, +and his companions will no longer endure to see him wiser than +themselves. + +It is apparent, that the inventors of all these fictions intend some +exaltation of themselves, and are led off by the pursuit of honour from +their attendance upon truth: their narratives always imply some +consequence in favour of their courage, their sagacity, or their +activity, their familiarity with the learned, or their reception among +the great; they are always bribed by the present pleasure of seeing +themselves superior to those that surround them, and receiving the +homage of silent attention and envious admiration. + +But vanity is sometimes excited to fiction by less visible +gratifications: the present age abounds with a race of liars who are +content with the consciousness of falsehood, and whose pride is to +deceive others without any gain or glory to themselves. Of this tribe it +is the supreme pleasure to remark a lady in the playhouse or the park, +and to publish, under the character of a man suddenly enamoured, an +advertisement in the news of the next day, containing a minute +description of her person and her dress. From this artifice, however, no +other effect can be expected, than perturbations which the writer can +never see, and conjectures of which he never can be informed; some +mischief, however, he hopes he has done; and to have done mischief, is +of some importance. He sets his invention to work again, and produces a +narrative of a robbery or a murder, with all the circumstances of time +and place accurately adjusted. This is a jest of greater effect and +longer duration: if he fixes his scene at a proper distance, he may for +several days keep a wife in terrour for her husband, or a mother for her +son; and please himself with reflecting, that by his abilities and +address some addition is made to the miseries of life. + +There is, I think, an ancient law of Scotland, by which _leasing-making_ +was capitally punished. I am, indeed, far from desiring to increase in +this kingdom the number of executions; yet I cannot but think, that they +who destroy the confidence of society, weaken the credit of +intelligence, and interrupt the security of life; harass the delicate +with shame, and perplex the timorous with alarms; might very properly be +awakened to a sense of their crimes, by denunciations of a whipping-post +or pillory: since many are so insensible of right and wrong, that they +have no standard of action but the law; nor feel guilt, but as they +dread punishment. + + + + +No. 53. TUESDAY, MAY 8, 1753. + + _Quisque suos patimur manes_. VIRG. Aen. Lib. vi. 743. + + Each has his lot, and bears the fate he drew. + +Sir, Fleet, May 6. + +In consequence of my engagements, I address you once more from the +habitations of misery. In this place, from which business and pleasure +are equally excluded, and in which our only employment and diversion is +to hear the narratives of each other, I might much sooner have gathered +materials for a letter, had I not hoped to have been reminded of my +promise; but since I find myself placed in the regions of oblivion, +where I am no less neglected by you than by the rest of mankind, I +resolved no longer to wait for solicitation, but stole early this +evening from between gloomy sullenness and riotous merriment, to give +you an account of part of my companions. + +One of the most eminent members of our club is Mr. Edward Scamper, a man +of whose name the Olympick heroes would not have been ashamed. Ned was +born to a small estate, which he determined to improve; and therefore, +as soon as he became of age, mortgaged part of his land to buy a mare +and stallion, and bred horses for the course. He was at first very +successful, and gained several of the king's plates, as he is now every +day boasting, at the expense of very little more than ten times their +value. At last, however, he discovered, that victory brought him more +honour than profit: resolving, therefore, to be rich as well as +illustrious, he replenished his pockets by another mortgage, became on a +sudden a daring bettor, and resolving not to trust a jockey with his +fortune, rode his horse himself, distanced two of his competitors the +first heat, and at last won the race by forcing his horse on a descent +to full speed at the hazard of his neck. His estate was thus repaired, +and some friends that had no souls advised him to give over; but Ned now +knew the way to riches, and therefore without caution increased his +expenses. From this hour he talked and dreamed of nothing but a +horse-race; and rising soon to the summit of equestrian reputation, he +was constantly expected on every course, divided all his time between +lords and jockeys, and, as the unexperienced regulated their bets by his +example, gained a great deal of money by laying openly on one horse and +secretly on the other. Ned was now so sure of growing rich, that he +involved his estate in a third mortgage, borrowed money of all his +friends, and risked his whole fortune upon Bay Lincoln. He mounted with +beating heart, started fair, and won the first heat; but in the second, +as he was pushing against the foremost of his rivals, his girth broke, +his shoulder was dislocated, and before he was dismissed by the surgeon, +two bailiffs fastened upon him, and he saw Newmarket no more. His daily +amusement for four years has been to blow the signal for starting, to +make imaginary matches, to repeat the pedigree of Bay Lincoln, and to +form resolutions against trusting another groom with the choice of his +girth. + +The next in seniority is Mr. Timothy Snug, a man of deep contrivance and +impenetrable secrecy. His father died with the reputation of more wealth +than he possessed: Tim, therefore, entered the world with a reputed +fortune of ten thousand pounds. Of this he very well knew that eight +thousand was imaginary: but being a man of refined policy, and knowing +how much honour is annexed to riches, he resolved never to detect his +own poverty; but furnished his house with elegance, scattered his money +with profusion, encouraged every scheme of costly pleasure, spoke of +petty losses with negligence, and on the day before an execution entered +his doors, had proclaimed at a public table his resolution to be jolted +no longer in a hackney coach. + +Another of my companions is the magnanimous Jack Scatter, the son of a +country gentleman, who, having no other care than to leave him rich, +considered that literature could not be had without expense; masters +would not teach for nothing; and when a book was bought and read, it +would sell for little. Jack was, therefore, taught to read and write by +the butler; and when this acquisition was made, was left to pass his +days in the kitchen and the stable, where he heard no crime censured but +covetousness and distrust of poor honest servants, and where all the +praise was bestowed on good housekeeping, and a free heart. At the death +of his father, Jack set himself to retrieve the honour of his family: he +abandoned his cellar to the butler, ordered his groom to provide hay and +corn at discretion, took his housekeeper's word for the expenses of the +kitchen, allowed all his servants to do their work by deputies, +permitted his domesticks to keep his house open to their relations and +acquaintance, and in ten years was conveyed hither, without having +purchased by the loss of his patrimony either honour or pleasure, or +obtained any other gratification than that of having corrupted the +neighbouring villagers by luxury and idleness. + +Dick Serge was a draper in Cornhill, and passed eight years in +prosperous diligence, without any care but to keep his books, or any +ambition but to be in time an alderman: but then, by some unaccountable +revolution in his understanding, he became enamoured of wit and humour, +despised the conversation of pedlars and stock-jobbers, and rambled +every night to the regions of gaiety, in quest of company suited to his +taste. The wits at first flocked about him for sport, and afterwards for +interest; some found their way into his books, and some into his +pockets; the man of adventure was equipped from his shop for the +pursuit, of a fortune; and he had sometimes the honour to have his +security accepted when his friends were in distress. Elated with these +associations, he soon learned to neglect his shop; and having drawn his +money out of the funds, to avoid the necessity of teasing men of honour +for trifling debts, he has been forced at last to retire hither, till +his friends can procure him a post at court. + +Another that joins in the same mess is Bob Cornice, whose life has been +spent in fitting up a house. About ten years ago Bob purchased the +country habitation of a bankrupt: the mere shell of a building Bob holds +no great matter; the inside is the test of elegance. Of this house he +was no sooner master than he summoned twenty workmen to his assistance, +tore up the floors and laid them anew, stripped off the wainscot, drew +the windows from their frames, altered the disposition of doors and +fire-places, and cast the whole fabrick into a new form: his next care +was to have his ceilings painted, his pannels gilt, and his +chimney-pieces carved: every thing was executed by the ablest hands: +Bob's business was to follow the workmen with a microscope, and call +upon them to retouch their performances, and heighten excellence to +perfection. + +The reputation of his house now brings round him a daily confluence of +visitants, and every one tells him of some elegance which he has +hitherto overlooked, some convenience not yet procured, or some new mode +in ornament or furniture. Bob, who had no wish but to be admired, nor +any guide but the fashion, thought every thing beautiful in proportion +as it was new, and considered his work as unfinished, while any observer +could suggest an addition; some alteration was therefore every day made, +without any other motive than the charms of novelty. A traveller at last +suggested to him the convenience of a grotto: Bob immediately ordered +the mount of his garden to be excavated: and having laid out a large sum +in shells and minerals, was busy in regulating the disposition of the +colours and lustres, when two gentlemen, who had asked permission to see +his gardens, presented him a writ, and led him off to less elegant +apartments. + +I know not, Sir, whether among this fraternity of sorrow you will think +any much to be pitied; nor indeed do many of them appear to solicit +compassion, for they generally applaud their own conduct, and despise +those whom want of taste or spirit suffers to grow rich. It were happy +if the prisons of the kingdom were filled only with characters like +these, men whom prosperity could not make useful, and whom ruin cannot +make wise: but there are among us many who raise different sensations, +many that owe their present misery to the seductions of treachery, the +strokes of casualty, or the tenderness of pity; many whose sufferings +disgrace society, and whose virtues would adorn it: of these, when +familiarity shall have enabled me to recount their stories without +horrour, you may expect another narrative from + +Sir, + +Your most humble servant, + +MISARGYRUS. + + + + +No. 58. SATURDAY, MAY 25, 1753. + + _Damnant quod non intelligunt_. CIC. + + They condemn what they do not understand. + +Euripides, having presented Socrates with the writings of Heraclitus[1], +a philosopher famed for involution and obscurity, inquired afterwards +his opinion of their merit. "What I understand," said Socrates, "I find +to be excellent; and, therefore, believe that to be of equal value which +I cannot understand." + +The reflection of every man who reads this passage will suggest to him +the difference between the practice of Socrates, and that of modern +criticks: Socrates, who had, by long observation upon himself and +others, discovered the weakness of the strongest, and the dimness of the +most enlightened intellect, was afraid to decide hastily in his own +favour, or to conclude that an author had written without meaning, +because he could not immediately catch his ideas; he knew that the +faults of books are often more justly imputable to the reader, who +sometimes wants attention, and sometimes penetration; whose +understanding is often obstructed by prejudice, and often dissipated by +remissness; who comes sometimes to a new study, unfurnished with +knowledge previously necessary; and finds difficulties insuperable, for +want of ardour sufficient to encounter them. + +Obscurity and clearness are relative terms: to some readers scarce any +book is easy, to others not many are difficult: and surely they, whom +neither any exuberant praise bestowed by others, nor any eminent +conquests over stubborn problems, have entitled to exalt themselves +above the common orders of mankind, might condescend to imitate the +candour of Socrates; and where they find incontestable proofs of +superior genius, be content to think that there is justness in the +connexion which they cannot trace, and cogency in the reasoning which +they cannot comprehend. + +This diffidence is never more reasonable than in the perusal of the +authors of antiquity; of those whose works have been the delight of +ages, and transmitted as the great inheritance of mankind from one +generation to another: surely, no man can, without the utmost arrogance, +imagine that he brings any superiority of understanding to the perusal +of these books which have been preserved in the devastation of cities, +and snatched up from the wreck of nations; which those who fled before +barbarians have been careful to carry off in the hurry of migration, and +of which barbarians have repented the destruction. If in books thus made +venerable by the uniform attestation of successive ages, any passages +shall appear unworthy of that praise which they have formerly received, +let us not immediately determine, that they owed their reputation to +dulness or bigotry; but suspect at least that our ancestors had some +reasons for their opinions, and that our ignorance of those reasons +makes us differ from them. + +It often happens that an author's reputation is endangered in succeeding +times, by that which raised the loudest applause among his +contemporaries: nothing is read with greater pleasure than allusions to +recent facts, reigning opinions, or present controversies; but when +facts are forgotten, and controversies extinguished, these favourite +touches lose all their graces; and the author in his descent to +posterity must be left to the mercy of chance, without any power of +ascertaining the memory of those things, to which he owed his luckiest +thoughts and his kindest reception. + +On such occasions, every reader should remember the diffidence of +Socrates, and repair by his candour the injuries of time: he should +impute the seeming defects of his author to some chasm of intelligence, +and suppose that the sense which is now weak was once forcible, and the +expression which is now dubious formerly determinate. + +How much the mutilation of ancient history has taken away from the +beauty of poetical performances, may be conjectured from the light which +a lucky commentator sometimes effuses, by the recovery of an incident +that had been long forgotten: thus, in the third book of Horace, Juno's +denunciations against, those that should presume to raise again the +walls of Troy, could for many ages please only by splendid images and +swelling language, of which no man discovered the use or propriety, till +Le Fevre, by showing on what occasion the Ode was written, changed +wonder to rational delight. Many passages yet undoubtedly remain in the +same author, which an exacter knowledge of the incidents of his time +would clear from objections. Among these I have always numbered the +following lines: + + _Aurum per medios ire satellites, + Et perrumpere amat saxa, potentius + Ictu fulmineo. Concidit auguris + Argivi domus ob lucrum + Demersa exitio. Diffidit urbium + Portas vir Macedo, et subruit aemulos + Regis muneribus_: Munera navium + Saevos illaqueant duces. HOR. Lib. iii. Ode xvi. 9. + + Stronger than thunder's winged force, + All-powerful gold can spread its course, + Thro' watchful guards its passage make, + And loves thro' solid walls to break: + From gold the overwhelming woes + That crush'd the Grecian augur rose: + Philip with gold thro' cities broke, + And rival monarchs felt his yoke; + _Captains of ships to gold are slaves, + Tho' fierce as their own winds and waves._ FRANCIS. + +The close of this passage, by which every reader is now disappointed and +offended, was probably the delight of the Roman Court: it cannot be +imagined, that Horace, after having given to gold the force of thunder, +and told of its power to storm cities and to conquer kings, would have +concluded his account of its efficacy with its influence over naval +commanders, had he not alluded to some fact then current in the mouths +of men, and therefore more interesting for a time than the conquests of +Philip. Of the like kind may be reckoned another stanza in the same +book: + + --_Jussa coram non sine conscio + Surgit marito, seu vocat_ institor, + _Seu_ navis Hispanae magister, + _Dedecorum pretiosus emptor_. HOR. Lib. iii. Ode. vi. 29. + + The conscious husband bids her rise, + _When some rich factor courts her charms_, + Who calls the wanton to his arms, + And, prodigal of wealth and fame, + Profusely buys the costly shame. FRANCIS. + +He has little knowledge of Horace who imagines that the _factor_, or the +_Spanish merchant_, are mentioned by chance: there was undoubtedly some +popular story of an intrigue, which those names recalled to the memory +of his reader. + +The flame of his genius in other parts, though somewhat dimmed by time, +is not totally eclipsed; his address and judgment yet appear, though +much of the spirit and vigour of his sentiment is lost: this has +happened in the twentieth Ode of the first book: + + _Vile potabis modicis Sabinum + Cantharis, Graecâ quod ego ipse testâ + Conditum levi, datus in theatro + Cum tibi plausus, + Care Maecenas eques: ut paterni + Fluminis ripae, simul et jocosa + Redderet laudes tibi Vaticani + Montis imago._ + + A poet's beverage humbly cheap, + (Should great Maecenas be my guest,) + The vintage of the Sabine grape, + But yet in sober cups shall crown the feast: + 'Twas rack'd into a Grecian cask, + Its rougher juice to melt away; + I seal'd it too--a pleasing task! + With annual joy to mark the glorious day, + When in applausive shouts thy name + Spread from the theatre around, + Floating on thy own Tiber's stream, + And Echo, playful nymph, return'd the sound. FRANCIS. + +We here easily remark the intertexture of a happy compliment with an +humble invitation; but certainly are less delighted than those, to whom +the mention of the applause bestowed upon Maecenas, gave occasion to +recount the actions or words that produced it. + +Two lines which have exercised the ingenuity of modern criticks, may, I +think, be reconciled to the judgment, by an easy supposition: Horace +thus addresses Agrippa: + +_Scriberis Vario fortis, et hostium +Victor_, Maeonii carminis alite. HOR. Lib. i. Ode vi. 1. + +Varius, a _swan of Homer's wing_, +Shall brave Agrippa's conquests sing. + +That Varius should be called "A bird of Homeric song," appears so harsh +to modern ears, that an emendation of the text has been proposed: but +surely the learning of the ancients had been long ago obliterated, had +every man thought himself at liberty to corrupt the lines which he did +not understand. If we imagine that Varius had been by any of his +contemporaries celebrated under the appellation of _Musarum ales_, "the +swan of the Muses," the language of Horace becomes graceful and +familiar; and that such a compliment was at least possible, we know from +the transformation feigned by Horace of himself. + +The most elegant compliment that was paid to Addison, is of this obscure +and perishable kind; + + When panting Virtue her last efforts made, + You brought your Clio to the virgin's aid. + +These lines must please as long as they are understood; but can be +understood only by those that have observed Addison's signatures in the +Spectator. + +The nicety of these minute allusions I shall exemplify by another +instance, which I take this occasion to mention, because, as I am told, +the commentators have omitted it. Tibullus addressed Cynthia in this +manner: + + _Te spectem, suprema mihi cum venerit hora, + Te teneam moriens deficiente manu._ Lib. i. El. i. 73. + + Before my closing eyes dear Cynthia stand, + Held weakly by my fainting trembling hand. + +To these lines Ovid thus refers in his Elegy on the death of Tibullus: + + Cynthia discedens, Felicius, inquit, amata + Sum tibi; vixisti dum tuus ignis eram. + Cui Nemesis, quid, ait, tibi sint mea damna dolori? + Me tenuit moriens deficiente manu. Am. Lib. in. El. ix. 56. + + Blest was my reign, retiring Cynthia cry'd; + Not till he left my breast, Tibullus dy'd. + Forbear, said Nemesis, my loss to moan, + The _fainting trembling hand_ was mine alone. + +The beauty of this passage, which consists in the appropriation made by +Nemesis of the line originally directed to Cynthia, had been wholly +imperceptible to succeeding ages, had chance, which has destroyed so +many greater volumes, deprived us likewise of the poems of Tibullus. + +[1] The obscurity of this philosopher's style is complained of by + Aristotle in his treatise on Rhetoric, iii. 5. We make the reference + with the view of recommending to attention the whole of that book, + which is interspersed with the most acute remarks, and with rules of + criticism founded deeply on the workings of the human mind. It is + undervalued only by those who have not scholarship to read it, and + surely merits this slight tribute of admiration from an Editor of + Johnson's works, with whom a Translation of the Rhetoric was long a + favourite project. + + + + +No. 62. SATURDAY, JUNE 9, 1753. + + _O fortuna viris, invida fortibus + Quam non aequa bonis praemia dividis._ SENECA. + + Capricious Fortune ever joys, + With partial hand to deal the prize, + To crush the brave and cheat the wise. + +TO THE ADVENTURER. + +Fleet, June 6. + +SIR, + +To the account of such of my companions as are imprisoned without being +miserable, or are miserable without any claim to compassion, I promised +to add the histories of those, whose virtue has made them unhappy or +whose misfortunes are at least without a crime. That this catalogue +should be very numerous, neither you nor your readers ought to expect: +_rari quippe boni_; "the good are few." Virtue is uncommon in all the +classes of humanity; and I suppose it will scarcely be imagined more +frequent in a prison than in other places. + +Yet in these gloomy regions is to be found the tenderness, the +generosity, the philanthropy of Serenus, who might have lived in +competence and ease, if he could have looked without emotion on the +miseries of another. Serenus was one of those exalted minds, whom +knowledge and sagacity could not make suspicious; who poured out his +soul in boundless intimacy, and thought community of possessions the law +of friendship. The friend of Serenus was arrested for debt, and after +many endeavours to soften his creditor, sent his wife to solicit that +assistance which never was refused. The tears and importunity of female +distress were more than was necessary to move the heart of Serenus; he +hasted immediately away, and conferring a long time with his friend, +found him confident that if the present pressure was taken off, he +should soon be able to reestablish his affairs. Serenus, accustomed to +believe, and afraid to aggravate distress, did not attempt to detect the +fallacies of hope, nor reflect that every man overwhelmed with calamity +believes, that if that was removed he shall immediately be happy: he, +therefore, with little hesitation offered himself as surety. + +In the first raptures of escape all was joy, gratitude, and confidence: +the friend of Serenus displayed his prospects, and counted over the sums +of which he should infallibly be master before the day of payment. +Serenus in a short time began to find his danger, but could not prevail +with himself to repent of beneficence; and therefore suffered himself +still to be amused with projects which he durst not consider, for fear +of finding them impracticable. The debtor, after he had tried every +method of raising money which art or indigence could prompt, wanted +either fidelity or resolution to surrender himself to prison, and left +Serenus to take his place. + +Serenus has often proposed to the creditor, to pay him whatever he shall +appear to have lost by the flight of his friend: but however reasonable +this proposal may be thought, avarice and brutality have been hitherto +inexorable, and Serenus still continues to languish in prison. In this +place, however, where want makes almost every man selfish, or +desperation gloomy, it is the good fortune of Serenus not to live +without a friend: he passes most of his hours in the conversation of +Candidus, a man whom the same virtuous ductility has, with some +difference of circumstances, made equally unhappy. Candidus, when he was +young, helpless, and ignorant, found a patron that educated, protected, +and supported him; his patron being more vigilant for others than +himself, left at his death an only son, destitute and friendless. +Candidus was eager to repay the benefits he had received; and having +maintained the youth for a few years at his own house, afterwards placed +him with a merchant of eminence, and gave bonds to a great value as a +security for his conduct. + +The young man, removed too early from the only eye of which he dreaded +the observation, and deprived of the only instruction which he heard +with reverence, soon learned to consider virtue as restraint, and +restraint as oppression: and to look with a longing eye at every expense +to which he could not reach, and every pleasure which he could not +partake: by degrees he deviated from his first regularity, and unhappily +mingling among young men busy in dissipating the gains of their fathers' +industry, he forgot the precepts of Candidus, spent the evening in +parties of pleasure, and the morning in expedients to support his riots. +He was, however, dexterous and active in business: and his master, being +secured against any consequences of dishonesty, was very little +solicitous to inspect his manners, or to inquire how he passed those +hours, which were not immediately devoted to the business of his +profession: when he was informed of the young man's extravagance or +debauchery, "let his bondsman look to that," said he, "I have taken care +of myself." + +Thus the unhappy spendthrift proceeded from folly to folly, and from +vice to vice, with the connivance, if not the encouragement, of his +master; till in the heat of a nocturnal revel he committed such +violences in the street as drew upon him a criminal prosecution. Guilty +and unexperienced, he knew not what course to take; to confess his crime +to Candidus, and solicit his interposition, was little less dreadful +than to stand before the frown of a court of justice. Having, therefore, +passed the day with anguish in his heart and distraction in his looks, +he seized at night a very large sum of money in the compting-house, and +setting out he knew not whither, was heard of no more. + +The consequence of his flight was the ruin of Candidus; ruin surely +undeserved and irreproachable, and such as the laws of a just government +ought either to prevent or repair: nothing is more inequitable than that +one man should suffer for the crimes of another, for crimes which he +neither prompted nor permitted, which he could neither foresee nor +prevent. When we consider the weakness of human resolutions and the +inconsistency of human conduct, it must appear absurd that one man shall +engage for another, that he will not change his opinions or alter his +conduct. + +It is, I think, worthy of consideration, whether, since no wager is +binding without a possibility of loss on each side, it is not equally +reasonable, that no contract should be valid without reciprocal +stipulations; but in this case, and others of the same kind, what is +stipulated on his side to whom the bond is given? he takes advantage of +the security, neglects his affairs, omits his duty, suffers timorous +wickedness to grow daring by degrees, permits appetite to call for new +gratifications, and, perhaps, secretly longs for the time in which he +shall have power to seize the forfeiture; and if virtue or gratitude +should prove too strong for temptation, and a young man persist in +honesty, however instigated by his passions, what can secure him at last +against a false accusation? I for my part always shall suspect, that he +who can by such methods secure his property, will go one step further to +increase it; nor can I think that man safely trusted with the means of +mischief, who, by his desire to have them in his hands, gives an evident +proof how much less he values his neighbour's happiness than his own. + +Another of our companions is Lentulus, a man whose dignity of birth was +very ill supported by his fortune. As some of the first offices in the +kingdom were filled by his relations, he was early invited to court, and +encouraged by caresses and promises to attendance and solicitation; a +constant appearance in splendid company necessarily required +magnificence of dress; and a frequent participation of fashionable +amusements forced him into expense: but these measures were requisite to +his success; since every body knows, that to be lost to sight is to be +lost to remembrance, and that he who desires to fill a vacancy, must be +always at hand, lest some man of greater vigilance should step in before +him. + +By this course of life his little fortune was every day made less: but +he received so many distinctions in publick, and was known to resort so +familiarly to the houses of the great, that every man looked on his +preferment as certain, and believed that its value would compensate for +its slowness: he, therefore, found no difficulty in obtaining credit for +all that his rank or his vanity made necessary: and, as ready payment +was not expected, the bills were proportionably enlarged, and the value +of the hazard or delay was adjusted solely by the equity of the +creditor. At length death deprived Lentulus of one of his patrons, and a +revolution in the ministry of another; so that all his prospects +vanished at once, and those that had before encouraged his expenses, +began to perceive that their money was in danger; there was now no other +contention but who should first seize upon his person, and, by forcing +immediate payment, deliver him up naked to the vengeance of the rest. + +In pursuance of this scheme, one of them invited him to a tavern, and +procured him to be arrested at the door; but Lentulus, instead of +endeavouring secretly to pacify him by payment, gave notice to the rest, +and offered to divide amongst them the remnant of his fortune: they +feasted six hours at his expense, to deliberate on his proposal; and at +last determined, that as he could not offer more than five shillings in +the pound, it would be more prudent to keep him in prison, till he could +procure from his relations the payment of his debts. + +Lentulus is not the only man confined within these walls, on the same +account: the like procedure, upon the like motives, is common among men +whom yet the law allows to partake the use of fire and water with the +compassionate and the just; who frequent the assemblies of commerce in +open day, and talk with detestation and contempt of highwaymen or +housebreakers: but, surely, that man must be confessedly robbed, who is +compelled, by whatever means, to pay the debts which he does not owe: +nor can I look with equal hatred upon him, who, at the hazard of his +life, holds out his pistol and demands my purse, as on him who plunders +under shelter of the law, and by detaining my son or my friend in +prison, extorts from me the price of their liberty. No man can be more +an enemy to society than he, by whose machinations our virtues are +turned to our disadvantage; he is less destructive to mankind that +plunders cowardice, than he that preys upon compassion. + +I believe, Mr. Adventurer, you will readily confess, that though not one +of these, if tried before a commercial judicature, can be wholly +acquitted from imprudence or temerity; yet that, in the eye of all who +can consider virtue as distinct from wealth, the fault of two of them, +at least, is outweighed by the merit; and that of the third is so much +extenuated by the circumstances of his life, as not to deserve a +perpetual prison: yet must these, with multitudes equally blameless, +languish in confinement, till malevolence shall relent, or the law be +changed. + +I am, Sir, + +Your humble servant, MISARGYRUS. + + + + +No. 67. TUESDAY, JUNE 26, 1753. + + _Inventas--vitam excolucre per artes_. VIRG. Aen. vi. 663. + + They polish life by useful arts. + +That familiarity produces neglect, has been long observed. The effect of +all external objects, however great or splendid, ceases with their +novelty; the courtier stands without emotion in the royal presence; the +rustick tramples under his foot the beauties of the spring with little +attention to their colours or their fragrance; and the inhabitant of the +coast darts his eye upon the immense diffusion of waters, without awe, +wonder, or terrour. + +Those who have past much of their lives in this great city, look upon +its opulence and its multitudes, its extent and variety, with cold +indifference; but an inhabitant of the remoter parts of the kingdom is +immediately distinguished by a kind of dissipated curiosity, a busy +endeavour to divide his attention amongst a thousand objects, and a wild +confusion of astonishment and alarm. + +The attention of a new comer is generally first struck by the +multiplicity of cries that stun him in the streets, and the variety of +merchandize and manufactures which the shopkeepers expose on every hand; +and he is apt, by unwary bursts of admiration, to excite the merriment +and contempt of those who mistake the use of their eyes for effects of +their understanding, and confound accidental knowledge with just +reasoning. + +But, surely, these are subjects on which any man may without reproach +employ his meditations: the innumerable occupations, among which the +thousands that swarm in the streets of London, are distributed, may +furnish employment to minds of every cast, and capacities of every +degree. He that contemplates the extent of this wonderful city, finds it +difficult to conceive, by what method plenty is maintained in our +markets, and how the inhabitants are regularly supplied with the +necessaries of life; but when he examines the shops and warehouses, sees +the immense stores of every kind of merchandize piled up for sale, and +runs over all the manufactures of art and products of nature, which are +every where attracting his eye and soliciting his purse, he will be +inclined to conclude, that such quantities cannot easily be exhausted, +and that part of mankind must soon stand still for want of employment, +till the wares already provided shall be worn out and destroyed. + +As Socrates was passing through the fair at Athens, and casting his eyes +over the shops and customers, "how many things are here," says he, "that +I do not want!" The same sentiment is every moment rising in the mind of +him that walks the streets of London, however inferior in philosophy to +Socrates: he beholds a thousand shops crowded with goods, of which he +can scarcely tell the use, and which, therefore, he is apt to consider +as of no value: and indeed, many of the arts by which families are +supported, and wealth is heaped together, are of that minute and +superfluous kind, which nothing but experience could evince possible to +be prosecuted with advantage, and which, as the world might easily want, +it could scarcely be expected to encourage. + +But so it is, that custom, curiosity, or wantonness, supplies every art +with patrons, and finds purchasers for every manufacture; the world is +so adjusted, that not only bread, but riches may be obtained without +great abilities or arduous performances: the most unskilful hand and +unenlightened mind have sufficient incitements to industry; for he that +is resolutely busy, can scarcely be in want. There is, indeed, no +employment, however despicable, from which a man may not promise himself +more than competence, when he sees thousands and myriads raised to +dignity, by no other merit than that of contributing to supply their +neighbours with the means of sucking smoke through a tube of clay; and +others raising contributions upon those, whose elegance disdains the +grossness of smoky luxury, by grinding the same materials into a. powder +that may at once gratify and impair the smell. + +Not only by these popular and modish trifles, but by a thousand unheeded +and evanescent kinds of business, are the multitudes of this city +preserved from idleness, and consequently from want. In the endless +variety of tastes and circumstances that diversify mankind, nothing is +so superfluous, but that some one desires it: or so common, but that +some one is compelled to buy it. As nothing is useless but because it is +in improper hands, what is thrown away by one is gathered up by another; +and the refuse of part of mankind furnishes a subordinate class with the +materials necessary to their support. + +When I look round upon those who are thus variously exerting their +qualifications, I cannot but admire the secret concatenation of society +that links together the great and the mean, the illustrious and the +obscure; and consider with benevolent satisfaction, that no man, unless +his body or mind be totally disabled, has need to suffer the +mortification of seeing himself useless or burthensome to the community: +he that will diligently labour, in whatever occupation, will deserve the +sustenance which he obtains, and the protection which he enjoys; and may +lie down every night with the pleasing consciousness of having +contributed something to the happiness of life. + +Contempt and admiration are equally incident to narrow minds: he whose +comprehension can take in the whole subordination of mankind, and whose +perspicacity can pierce to the real state of things through the thin +veils of fortune or of fashion, will discover meanness in the highest +stations, and dignity in the meanest; and find that no man can become +venerable but by virtue, or contemptible but by wickedness. + +In the midst of this universal hurry, no man ought to be so little +influenced by example, or so void of honest emulation, as to stand a +lazy spectator of incessant labour; or please himself with the mean +happiness of a drone, while the active swarms are buzzing about him: no +man is without some quality, by the due application of which he might +deserve well of the world; and whoever he be that has but little in his +power, should be in haste to do that little, lest he be confounded with +him that can do nothing. + +By this general concurrence of endeavours, arts of every kind have been +so long cultivated, that all the wants of man may be immediately +supplied; idleness can scarcely form a wish which she may not gratify by +the toil of others, or curiosity dream of a toy, which the shops are not +ready to afford her. + +Happiness is enjoyed only in proportion as it is known; and such is the +state or folly of man, that it is known only by experience of its +contrary: we who have long lived amidst the conveniencies of a town +immensely populous, have scarce an idea of a place where desire cannot +be gratified by money. In order to have a just sense of this artificial +plenty, it is necessary to have passed some time in a distant colony, or +those parts of our island which are thinly inhabited: he that has once +known how many trades every man in such situations is compelled to +exercise, with how much labour the products of nature must be +accommodated to human use, how long the loss or defect of any common +utensil must be endured, or by what awkward expedients it must be +supplied, how far men may wander with money in their hands before any +can sell them what they wish to buy, will know how to rate at its proper +value the plenty and ease of a great city. + +But that the happiness of man may still remain imperfect, as wants in +this place are easily supplied, new wants likewise are easily created; +every man, in surveying the shops of London, sees numberless instruments +and conveniencies, of which, while he did not know them, he never felt +the need; and yet, when use has made them familiar, wonders how life +could be supported without them. Thus it comes to pass, that our desires +always increase with our possessions; the knowledge that something +remains yet unenjoyed, impairs our enjoyment of the good before us. + +They who have been accustomed to the refinements of science, and +multiplications of contrivance, soon lose their confidence in the +unassisted powers of nature, forget the paucity of our real necessities, +and overlook the easy methods by which they may be supplied. It were a +speculation worthy of a philosophical mind, to examine how much is taken +away from our native abilities, as well as added to them, by artificial +expedients. We are so accustomed to give and receive assistance, that +each of us singly can do little for himself; and there is scarce any one +among us, however contracted may be his form of life, who does not enjoy +the labour of a thousand artists. + +But a survey of the various nations that inhabit the earth will inform +us, that life may be supported with less assistance; and that the +dexterity, which practice enforced by necessity produces, is able to +effect much by very scanty means. The nations of Mexico and Peru erected +cities and temples without the use of iron; and at this day the rude +Indian supplies himself with all the necessaries of life: sent like the +rest of mankind naked into the world, as soon as his parents have nursed +him up to strength, he is to provide by his own labour for his own +support. His first care is to find a sharp flint among the rocks; with +this he undertakes to fell the trees of the forest; he shapes his bow, +heads his arrows, builds his cottage, and hollows his canoe, and from +that time lives in a state of plenty and prosperity; he is sheltered +from the storms, he is fortified against beasts of prey, he is enabled +to pursue the fish of the sea, and the deer of the mountains; and as he +does not know, does not envy the happiness of polished nations, where +gold can supply the want of fortitude and skill, and he whose laborious +ancestors have made him rich, may lie stretched upon a couch, and see +all the treasures of all the elements poured down before him. + +This picture of a savage life if it shows how much individuals may +perform, shows likewise how much society is to be desired. Though the +perseverance and address of the Indian excite our admiration, they +nevertheless cannot procure him the conveniencies which are enjoyed by +the vagrant beggar of a civilized country: he hunts like a wild beast to +satisfy his hunger; and when he lies down to rest after a successful +chase, cannot pronounce himself secure against the danger of perishing +in a few days: he is, perhaps, content with his condition, because he +knows not that a better is attainable by man; as he that is born blind +does not long for the perception of light, because he cannot conceive +the advantages which light would afford him; but hunger, wounds, and +weariness, are real evils, though he believes them equally incident to +all his fellow-creatures; and when a tempest compels him to lie starving +in his hut, he cannot justly be concluded equally happy with those whom +art has exempted from the power of chance, and who make the foregoing +year provide for the following. + +To receive and to communicate assistance, constitutes the happiness of +human life: man may, indeed, preserve his existence in solitude, but can +enjoy it only in society; the greatest understanding of an individual, +doomed to procure food and clothing for himself, will barely supply him +with expedients to keep off death from day to day; but as one of a large +community performing only his share of the common business, he gains +leisure for intellectual pleasures, and enjoys the happiness of reason +and reflection. + + + + +No. 69. TUESDAY, JULY 3, 1753. + + _Fere libenter homines id quod volunt credunt._ Cæsar. + + Men willingly believe what they wish to be true. + +Tully has long ago observed, that no man, however weakened by long life, +is so conscious of his own decrepitude, as not to imagine that he may +yet hold his station in the world for another year. + +Of the truth of this remark every day furnishes new confirmation: there +is no time of life, in which men for the most part seem less to expect +the stroke of death, than when every other eye sees it impending; or are +more busy in providing for another year, than when it is plain to all +but themselves, that at another year they cannot arrive. Though every +funeral that passes before their eyes evinces the deceitfulness of such +expectations, since every man who is born to the grave thought himself +equally certain of living at least to the next year; the survivor still +continues to flatter himself, and is never at a loss for some reason why +his life should be protracted, and the voracity of death continue to be +pacified with some other prey. + +But this is only one of the innumerable artifices practised in the +universal conspiracy of mankind against themselves: every age and every +condition indulges some darling fallacy; every man amuses himself with +projects which he knows to be improbable, and which, therefore, he +resolves to pursue without daring to examine them. Whatever any man +ardently desires, he very readily believes that he shall some time +attain: he whose intemperance has overwhelmed him with diseases, while +he languishes in the spring, expects vigour and recovery from the summer +sun; and while he melts away in the summer, transfers his hopes to the +frosts of winter: he that gazes upon elegance or pleasure, which want of +money hinders him from imitating or partaking, comforts himself that the +time of distress will soon be at an end, and that every day brings him +nearer to a state of happiness; though he knows it has passed not only +without acquisition of advantage, but perhaps without endeavours after +it, in the formation of schemes that cannot be executed, and in the +contemplation of prospects which cannot be approached. + +Such is the general dream in which we all slumber out our time: every +man thinks the day coming, in which he shall be gratified with all his +wishes, in which he shall leave all those competitors behind, who are +now rejoicing like himself in the expectation of victory; the day is +always coming to the servile in which they shall be powerful, to the +obscure in which they shall be eminent, and to the deformed in which +they shall be beautiful. + +If any of my readers has looked with so little attention on the world +about him, as to imagine this representation exaggerated beyond +probability, let him reflect a little upon his own life; let him +consider what were his hopes and prospects ten years ago, and what +additions he then expected to be made by ten years to his happiness; +those years are now elapsed; have they made good the promise that was +extorted from them? have they advanced his fortune, enlarged his +knowledge, or reformed his conduct, to the degree that was once +expected? I am afraid, every man that recollects his hopes must confess +his disappointment; and own that day has glided unprofitably after day, +and that he is still at the same distance from the point of happiness. + +With what consolations can those, who have thus miscarried in their +chief design, elude the memory of their ill success? with what +amusements can they pacify their discontent, after the loss of so large +a portion of life? they can give themselves up again to the same +delusions, they can form new schemes of airy gratifications, and fix +another period of felicity; they can again resolve to trust the promise +which they know will be broken, they can walk in a circle with their +eyes shut, and persuade themselves to think that they go forward. + +Of every great and complicated event, part depends upon causes out of +our power, and part must be effected by vigour and perseverance. With +regard to that which is styled in common language the work of chance, +men will always find reasons for confidence or distrust, according to +their different tempers or inclinations; and he that has been long +accustomed to please himself with possibilities of fortuitous happiness, +will not easily or willingly be reclaimed from his mistake. But the +effects of human industry and skill are more easily subjected to +calculation: whatever can be completed in a year, is divisible into +parts, of which each may be performed in the compass of a day; he, +therefore, that has passed the day without attention to the task +assigned him, may be certain, that the lapse of life has brought him no +nearer to his object; for whatever idleness may expect from time, its +produce will be only in proportion to the diligence with which it has +been used. He that floats lazily down the stream, in pursuit of +something borne along by the same current, will find himself indeed move +forward; but unless he lays his hand to the oar, and increases his speed +by his own labour, must be always at the same distance from that which +he is following. + +There have happened in every age some contingencies of unexpected and +undeserved success, by which those who are determined to believe +whatever favours their inclinations, have been encouraged to delight +themselves with future advantages; they support confidence by +considerations, of which the only proper use is to chase away despair: +it is equally absurd to sit down in idleness because some have been +enriched without labour, as to leap a precipice because some have fallen +and escaped with life, or to put to sea in a storm because some have +been driven from a wreck upon the coast to which they are bound. + +We are all ready to confess, that belief ought to be proportioned to +evidence or probability: let any man, therefore, compare the number of +those who have been thus favoured by fortune, and of those who have +failed of their expectations, and he will easily determine, with what +justness he has registered himself in the lucky catalogue. + +But there is no need on these occasions for deep inquiries or laborious +calculations; there is a far easier method of distinguishing the hopes +of folly from those of reason, of finding the difference between +prospects that exist before the eyes, and those that are only painted on +a fond imagination. Tom Drowsy had accustomed himself to compute the +profit of a darling project till he had no longer any doubt of its +success; it was at last matured by close consideration, all the measures +were accurately adjusted, and he wanted only five hundred pounds to +become master of a fortune that might be envied by a director of a +trading company. Tom was generous and grateful, and was resolved to +recompense this small assistance with an ample fortune; he, therefore, +deliberated for a time, to whom amongst his friends he should declare +his necessities; not that he suspected a refusal, but because he could +not suddenly determine which of them would make the best use of riches, +and was, therefore, most worthy of his favour. At last his choice was +settled; and knowing that in order to borrow he must shew the +probability of repayment, he prepared for a minute and copious +explanation of his project. But here the golden dream was at an end: he +soon discovered the impossibility of imposing upon others the notions by +which he had so long imposed upon himself; which way soever he turned +his thoughts, impossibility and absurdity arose in opposition on every +side; even credulity and prejudice were at last forced to give way, and +he grew ashamed of crediting himself what shame would not suffer him to +communicate to another. + +To this test let every man bring his imaginations, before they have been +too long predominant in his mind. Whatever is true will bear to be +related, whatever is rational will endure to be explained; but when we +delight to brood in secret over future happiness, and silently to employ +our meditations upon schemes of which we are conscious that the bare +mention would expose us to derision and contempt; we should then +remember, that we are cheating ourselves by voluntary delusions; and +giving up to the unreal mockeries of fancy, those hours in which solid +advantages might be attained by sober thought and rational assiduity. + +There is, indeed, so little certainty in human affairs, that the most +cautious and severe examiner may be allowed to indulge some hopes which +he cannot prove to be much favoured by probability; since, after his +utmost endeavours to ascertain events, he must often leave the issue in +the hands of chance. And so scanty is our present allowance of +happiness, that in many situations life could scarcely be supported, if +hope were not allowed to relieve the present hour by pleasures borrowed +from futurity; and reanimate the languor of dejection to new efforts, by +pointing to distant regions of felicity, which yet no resolution or +perseverance shall ever reach. + +But these, like all other cordials, though they may invigorate in a +small quantity, intoxicate in a greater; these pleasures, like the rest, +are lawful only in certain circumstances, and to certain degrees; they +may be useful in a due subserviency to nobler purposes, but become +dangerous and destructive when once they gain the ascendant in the +heart: to soothe the mind to tranquillity by hope, even when that hope +is likely to deceive us, may be sometimes useful; but to lull our +faculties in a lethargy is poor and despicable. + +Vices and errours are differently modified, according to the state of +the minds to which they are incident; to indulge hope beyond the warrant +of reason, is the failure alike of mean and elevated understandings; but +its foundation and its effects are totally different: the man of high +courage and great abilities is apt to place too much confidence in +himself, and to expect, from a vigorous exertion of his powers, more +than spirit or diligence can attain: between him and his wish he sees +obstacles indeed, but he expects to overleap or break them; his mistaken +ardour hurries him forward; and though, perhaps, he misses his end, he +nevertheless obtains some collateral good, and performs something useful +to mankind, and honourable to himself. + +The drone of timidity presumes likewise to hope, but without ground and +without consequence; the bliss with which he solaces his hours he always +expects from others, though very often he knows not from whom: he folds +his arms about him, and sits in expectation of some revolution in the +state that shall raise him to greatness, or some golden shower that +shall load him with wealth; he dozes away the day in musing upon the +morrow; and at the end of life is roused from his dream only to discover +that the time of action is past, and that he can now shew his wisdom +only by repentance. + + + + +No. 74. SATURDAY, JULY 21, 1753. + + _Insanientis dun sapientæ + Consultus erro.--_ HOR. Lib. i. Od. xxxiv. 2. + + I miss'd my end, and lost my way, + By crack-brain'd wisdom led astray. + +TO THE ADVENTURER. + +SIR, + +It has long been charged by one part of mankind upon the other, that +they will not take advice; that counsel and instruction are generally +thrown away; and that, in defiance both of admonition and example, all +claim the right to choose their own measures, and to regulate their own +lives. + +That there is something in advice very useful and salutary, seems to be +equally confessed on all hands: since even those that reject it, allow +for the most part that rejection to be wrong, but charge the fault upon +the unskilful manner in which it is given: they admit the efficacy of +the medicine, but abhor the nauseousness of the vehicle. + +Thus mankind have gone on from century to century: some have been +advising others how to act, and some have been teaching the advisers how +to advise; yet very little alteration has been made in the world. As we +must all by the law of nature enter life in ignorance, we must all make +our way through it by the light of our own experience; and for any +security that advice has been yet able to afford, must endeavour after +success at the hazard of miscarriage, and learn to do right by venturing +to do wrong. + +By advice I would not be understood to mean, the everlasting and +invariable principles of moral and religious truth, from which no change +of external circumstances can justify any deviation; but such directions +as respect merely the prudential part of conduct, and which may he +followed or neglected without any violation of essential duties. + +It is, indeed, not so frequently to make us good as to make us wise, +that our friends employ the officiousness of counsel; and among the +rejectors of advice, who are mentioned by the grave and sententious with +so much acrimony, you will not so often find the vicious and abandoned, +as the pert and the petulant, the vivacious and the giddy. + +As the great end of female education is to get a husband, this likewise +is the general subject of female advice: and the dreadful denunciation +against those volatile girls, who will not listen patiently to the +lectures of wrinkled wisdom, is, that they will die unmarried, or throw +themselves away upon some worthless fellow, who will never be able to +keep them a coach. + +I being naturally of a ductile and easy temper, without strong desires +or quick resentments, was always a favourite amongst the elderly ladies, +because I never rebelled against seniority, nor could be charged with +thinking myself wise before my time; but heard every opinion with +submissive silence, professed myself ready to learn from all who seemed +inclined to teach me, paid the same grateful acknowledgments for +precepts contradictory to each other, and if any controversy arose, was +careful to side with her who presided in the company. + +Of this compliance I very early found the advantage; for my aunt Matilda +left me a very large addition to my fortune, for this reason chiefly, as +she herself declared, because I was not above hearing good counsel, but +would sit from morning till night to be instructed, while my sister +Sukey, who was a year younger than myself, and was, therefore, in +greater want of information, was so much conceited of her own knowledge, +that whenever the good lady in the ardour of benevolence reproved or +instructed her, she would pout or titter, interrupt her with questions, +or embarrass her with objections. + +I had no design to supplant my sister by this complaisant attention; +nor, when the consequence of my obsequiousness came to be known, did +Sukey so much envy as despise me: I was, however, very well pleased with +my success; and having received, from the concurrent opinion of all +mankind, a notion that to be rich was to be great and happy, I thought I +had obtained my advantages at an easy rate, and resolved to continue the +same passive attention, since I found myself so powerfully recommended +by it to kindness and esteem. + +The desire of advising has a very extensive prevalence; and since advice +cannot be given but to those that will hear it, a patient listener is +necessary to the accommodation of all those who desire to be confirmed +in the opinion of their own wisdom: a patient listener, however, is not +always to be had; the present age, whatever age is present, is so +vitiated and disordered that young people are readier to talk than to +attend, and good counsel is only thrown away upon those who are full of +their own perfections. + +I was, therefore, in this scarcity of good sense, a general favourite; +and seldom saw a day in which some sober matron did not invite me to her +house, or take me out in her chariot, for the sake of instructing me how +to keep my character in this censorious age, how to conduct myself in +the time of courtship, how to stipulate for a settlement, how to manage +a husband of every character, regulate my family, and educate my +children. + +We are all naturally credulous in our own favour. Having been so often +caressed and applauded for docility, I was willing to believe myself +really enlightened by instruction, and completely qualified for the task +of life. I did not doubt but I was entering the world with a mind +furnished against all exigencies, with expedients to extricate myself +from every difficulty, and sagacity to provide against every danger; I +was, therefore, in haste to give some specimen of my prudence, and to +show that this liberality of instruction had not been idly lavished upon +a mind incapable of improvement. + +My purpose, for why should I deny it? was like that of other women, to +obtain a husband of rank and fortune superior to my own; and in this I +had the concurrence of all those that had assumed the province of +directing me. That the woman was undone who married below herself, was +universally agreed: and though some ventured to assert, that the richer +man ought invariably to be preferred, and that money was a sufficient +compensation for a defective ancestry; yet the majority declared warmly +for a gentleman, and were of opinion that upstarts should not be +encouraged. + +With regard to other qualifications I had an irreconcilable variety of +instructions. I was sometimes told that deformity was no defect in a +man; and that he who was not encouraged to intrigue by an opinion of his +person, was more likely to value the tenderness of his wife: but a +grave-widow directed me to choose a man who might imagine himself +agreeable to me, for that the deformed were always insupportably +vigilant, and apt to sink into sullenness, or burst into rage, if they +found their wife's eye wandering for a moment to a good face or a +handsome shape. + +They were, however, all unanimous in warning me, with repeated cautions, +against all thoughts of union with a wit, as a being with whom no +happiness could possibly be enjoyed: men of every other kind I was +taught to govern, but a wit was an animal for whom no arts of taming had +been yet discovered: the woman whom he could once get within his power, +was considered as lost to all hope of dominion or of quiet: for he would +detect artifice and defeat allurement; and if once he discovered any +failure of conduct, would believe his own eyes, in defiance of tears, +caresses, and protestations. + +In pursuance of these sage principles, I proceeded to form my schemes; +and while I was yet in the first bloom of youth, was taken out at an +assembly by Mr. Frisk. I am afraid my cheeks glowed, and my eyes +sparkled; for I observed the looks of all my superintendants fixed +anxiously upon me; and I was next day cautioned against him from all +hands, as a man of the most dangerous and formidable kind, who had writ +verses to one lady, and then forsaken her only because she could not +read them, and had lampooned another for no other fault than defaming +his sister. + +Having been hitherto accustomed to obey, I ventured to dismiss Mr. +Frisk, who happily did not think me worth the labour of a lampoon. I was +then addressed by Mr. Sturdy, and congratulated by all my friends on the +manors of which I was shortly to be lady: but Sturdy's conversation was +so gross, that after the third visit I could endure him no longer; and +incurred, by dismissing him, the censure of all my friends, who declared +that my nicety was greater than my prudence, and that they feared it +would be my fate at last to be wretched with a wit. + +By a wit, however, I was never afterwards attacked, but lovers of every +other class, or pretended lovers, I have often had; and, notwithstanding +the advice constantly given me, to have no regard in my choice to my own +inclinations, I could not forbear to discard some for vice, and some for +rudeness. I was once loudly censured for refusing an old gentleman who +offered an enormous jointure, and died of the phthisic a year after; and +was so baited with incessant importunities, that I should have given my +hand to Drone the stock-jobber, had not the reduction of interest made +him afraid of the expenses of matrimony. + +Some, indeed, I was permitted to encourage; but miscarried of the main +end, by treating them according to the rules of art which had been +prescribed me. Altilis, an old maid, infused into me so much haughtiness +and reserve, that some of my lovers withdrew themselves from my frown, +and returned no more; others were driven away, by the demands of +settlement which the widow Trapland directed me to make; and I have +learned, by many experiments, that to ask advice is to lose opportunity. + +I am, Sir, + +Your humble servant, + +PERDITA. + + + + +No. 81. TUESDAY, AUGUST 14, 1753. + + _Nil desperandum. Lib. i. Od. vii. 27. + + Avaunt despair!_ + +I have sometimes heard it disputed in conversation, whether it be more +laudable or desirable, that a man should think too highly or too meanly +of himself: it is on all hands agreed to be best, that he should think +rightly; but since a fallible being will always make some deviations +from exact rectitude, it is not wholly useless to inquire towards which +side it is safer to decline. + +The prejudices of mankind seem to favour him who errs by under-rating +his own powers: he is considered as a modest and harmless member of +society, not likely to break the peace by competition, to endeavour +after such splendour of reputation as may dim the lustre of others, or +to interrupt any in the enjoyment of themselves; he is no man's rival, +and, therefore, may be every man's friend. + +The opinion which a man entertains of himself ought to be distinguished, +in order to an accurate discussion of this question, as it relates to +persons or to things. To think highly of ourselves in comparison with +others, to assume by our own authority that precedence which none is +willing to grant, must be always invidious and offensive; but to rate +our powers high in proportion to things, and imagine ourselves equal to +great undertakings, while we leave others in possession of the same +abilities, cannot with equal justice provoke censure. + +It must be confessed, that self-love may dispose us to decide too +hastily in our own favour: but who is hurt by the mistake? If we are +incited by this vain opinion to attempt more than we can perform, ours +is the labour, and ours is the disgrace. + +But he that dares to think well of himself, will not always prove to be +mistaken; and the good effects of his confidence will then appear in +great attempts and great performances: if he should not fully complete +his design, he will at least advance it so far as to leave an easier +task for him that succeeds him; and even though he should wholly fail, +he will fail with honour. + +But from the opposite errour, from torpid despondency, can come no +advantage; it is the frost of the soul, which binds up all its powers, +and congeals life in perpetual sterility. He that has no hopes of +success, will make no attempts; and where nothing is attempted, nothing +can be done. + +Every man should, therefore, endeavour to maintain in himself a +favourable opinion of the powers of the human mind; which are, perhaps, +in every man, greater than they appear, and might, by diligent +cultivation, be exalted to a degree beyond what their possessor presumes +to believe. There is scarce any man but has found himself able, at the +instigation of necessity, to do what in a state of leisure and +deliberation he would have concluded impossible; and some of our species +have signalized themselves by such achievements, as prove that there are +few things above human hope. + +It has been the policy of all nations to preserve, by some public +monuments, the memory of those who have served their country by great +exploits: there is the same reason for continuing or reviving the names +of those, whose extensive abilities have dignified humanity. An honest +emulation may be alike excited; and the philosopher's curiosity may be +inflamed by a catalogue of the works of Boyle or Bacon, as Themistocles +was kept awake by the trophies of Miltiades. + +Among the favourites of nature that have from time to time appeared in +the world, enriched with various endowments and contrarieties of +excellence, none seems to have been exalted above the common rate of +humanity, than the man known about two centuries ago by the appellation +of the Admirable Crichton; of whose history, whatever we may suppress as +surpassing credibility, yet we shall, upon incontestable authority, +relate enough to rank him among prodigies. + +"Virtue," says Virgil, "is better accepted when it comes in a pleasing +form:" the person of Crichton was eminently beautiful; but his beauty +was consistent with such activity and strength, that in fencing he would +spring at one bound the length of twenty feet upon his antagonist; and +he used the sword in either hand with such force and dexterity, that +scarce any one had courage to engage him. + +Having studied at St. Andrew's in Scotland, he went to Paris in his +twenty-first year, and affixed on the gate of the college of Navarre a +kind of challenge to the learned of that university to dispute with him +on a certain day: offering to his opponents, whoever they should be, the +choice of ten languages, and of all faculties and sciences. On the day +appointed three thousand auditors assembled, when four doctors of the +church and fifty masters appeared against him; and one of his +antagonists confesses, that the doctors were defeated; that he gave +proofs of knowledge above the reach of man; and that a hundred years +passed without food or sleep, would not be sufficient for the attainment +of his learning. After a disputation of nine hours, he was presented by +the president and professors with a diamond and a purse of gold, and +dismissed with repeated acclamations. + +From Paris he went away to Rome, where he made the same challenge, and +had in the presence of the pope and cardinals the same success. +Afterwards he contracted at Venice an acquaintance with Aldus Manutius, +by whom he was introduced to the learned of that city: then visited +Padua, where he engaged in another publick disputation, beginning his +performance with an extemporal poem in praise of the city and the +assembly then present, and concluding with an oration equally +unpremeditated in commendation of ignorance. + +He afterwards published another challenge, in which he declared himself +ready to detect the errours of Aristotle and all his commentators, +either in the common forms of logick, or in any which his antagonists +should propose of a hundred different kinds of verse. + +These acquisitions of learning, however stupendous, were not gained at +the expense of any pleasure which youth generally indulges, or by the +omission of any accomplishment in which it becomes a gentleman to excel: +he practised in great perfection the arts of drawing and painting, he +was an eminent performer in both vocal and instrumental musick, he +danced with uncommon gracefulness, and, on the day after his disputation +at Paris, exhibited his skill in horsemanship before the court of +France, where at a publick match of tilting, he bore away the ring upon +his lance fifteen times together. + +He excelled likewise in domestic games of less dignity and reputation: +and in the interval between his challenge and disputation at Paris, he +spent so much of his time at cards, dice, and tennis, that a lampoon was +fixed upon the gate of the Sorbonne, directing those that would see this +monster of erudition, to look for him at the tavern. + +So extensive was his acquaintance with life and manners, that in an +Italian comedy composed by himself, and exhibited before the court of +Mantua, he is said to have personated fifteen different characters; in +all which he might succeed without great difficulty, since he had such +power of retention, that once hearing an oration of an hour, he would +repeat it exactly, and in the recital follow the speaker through all his +variety of tone and gesticulation. + +Nor was his skill in arms less than in learning, or his courage inferior +to his skill: there was a prize-fighter at Mantua, who travelling about +the world, according to the barbarous custom of that age, as a general +challenger, had defeated the most celebrated masters in many parts of +Europe; and in Mantua, where he then resided, had killed three that +appeared against him. The duke repented that he had granted him his +protection; when Crichton, looking on his sanguinary success with +indignation, offered to stake fifteen hundred pistoles, and mount the +stage against him. The duke with some reluctance consented, and on the +day fixed the combatants appeared: their weapon seems to have been +single rapier, which was then newly introduced in Italy. The +prize-fighter advanced with great violence and fierceness, and Crichton +contented himself calmly to ward his passes, and suffered him to exhaust +his vigour by his own fury. Crichton then became the assailant; and +pressed upon him with such force and agility, that he thrust him thrice +through the body, and saw him expire: he then divided the prize he had +won among the widows whose husbands had been killed. + +The death of this wonderful man I should be willing to conceal, did I +not know that every reader will inquire curiously after that fatal hour, +which is common to all human beings, however distinguished from each +other by nature or by fortune. + +The duke of Mantua, having received so many proofs of his various merit, +made him tutor to his son Vicentio di Gonzaga, a prince of loose manners +and turbulent disposition. On this occasion it was, that he composed the +comedy in which he exhibited so many different characters with exact +propriety. But his honour was of short continuance; for as he was one +night in the time of Carnival rambling about the streets, with his +guitar in his hand, he was attacked by six men masked. Neither his +courage nor skill in his exigence deserted him: he opposed them with +such activity and spirit, that he soon dispersed them, and disarmed +their leader, who throwing off his mask, discovered himself to be the +prince his pupil. Crichton, falling on his knees, took his own sword by +the point, and presented it to the prince; who immediately seized it, +and instigated, as some say, by jealousy, according to others, only by +drunken fury and brutal resentment, thrust him through the heart. + +Thus was the Admirable Crichton brought into that state, in which he +could excel the meanest of mankind only by a few empty honours paid to +his memory: the court of Mantua testified their esteem by a publick +mourning, the contemporary wits were profuse of their encomiums, and the +palaces of Italy were adorned with pictures, representing him on +horseback with a lance in one hand and a book in the other[1]. + +[1] This paper is enumerated by Chalmers among those which Johnson + dictated, not to Bathurst, but to Hawkesworth. It is an elegant + summary of Crichton's life which is in Mackenzie's Writers of the + Scotch Nation. See a fuller account by the Earl of Buchan and Dr. + Kippis in the Biog. Brit. and the recently published one by Mr. + Frazer Tytler. + + + + +No. 84. SATURDAY, AUGUST 25, 1753. + + _Tolle periclum, + Jam vaga prosiliet frenis natura remotis._ HOR. Lib. ii. Sat. vii. 73. + + But take the danger and the shame away, + And vagrant nature bounds upon her prey. FRANCIS. + +TO THE ADVENTURER. + +SIR, + +It has been observed, I think, by Sir William Temple, and after him by +almost every other writer, that England affords a greater variety of +characters than the rest of the world. This is ascribed to the liberty +prevailing amongst us, which gives every man the privilege of being wise +or foolish his own way, and preserves him from the necessity of +hypocrisy or the servility of imitation. + +That the position itself is true, I am not completely satisfied. To be +nearly acquainted with the people of different countries can happen to +very few; and in life, as in every thing else beheld at a distance, +there appears an even uniformity: the petty discriminations which +diversify the natural character, are not discoverable but by a close +inspection; we, therefore, find them most at home, because there we have +most opportunities of remarking them. Much less am I convinced, that +this peculiar diversification, if it be real, is the consequence of +peculiar liberty; for where is the government to be found that +superintends individuals with so much vigilance, as not to leave their +private conduct without restraint? Can it enter into a reasonable mind +to imagine, that men of every other nation are not equally masters of +their own time or houses with ourselves, and equally at liberty to be +parsimonious or profuse, frolick or sullen, abstinent or luxurious? +Liberty is certainly necessary to the full play of predominant humours; +but such liberty is to be found alike under the government of the many +or the few, in monarchies or commonwealths. + +How readily the predominant passion snatches an interval of liberty, and +how fast it expands itself when the weight of restraint is taken away, I +had lately an opportunity to discover, as I took a journey into the +country in a stage-coach; which, as every journey is a kind of +adventure, may be very properly related to you, though I can display no +such extraordinary assembly as Cervantes has collected at Don Quixote's +inn[1]. + +In a stage coach, the passengers are for the most part wholly unknown to +one another, and without expectation of ever meeting again when their +journey is at an end; one should therefore imagine, that it was of +little importance to any of them, what conjectures the rest should form +concerning him. Yet so it is, that as all think themselves secure from +detection, all assume that character of which they are most desirous, +and on no occasion is the general ambition of superiority more +apparently indulged. + +On the day of our departure, in the twilight of the morning, I ascended +the vehicle with three men and two women, my fellow travellers. It was +easy to observe the affected elevation of mien with which every one +entered, and the supercilious servility with which they paid their +compliments to each other. When the first ceremony was despatched, we +sat silent for a long time, all employed in collecting importance into +our faces, and endeavouring to strike reverence and submission into our +companions. + +It is always observable that silence propagates itself, and that the +longer talk has been suspended, the more difficult it is to find any +thing to say. We began now to wish for conversation; but no one seemed +inclined to descend from his dignity, or first propose a topick of +discourse. At last a corpulent gentleman, who had equipped himself for +this expedition with a scarlet surtout and a large hat with a broad +lace, drew out his watch, looked on it in silence, and then held it +dangling at his finger. This was, I suppose, understood by all the +company as an invitation to ask the time of the day, but nobody appeared +to heed his overture; and his desire to be talking so far overcame his +resentment, that he let us know of his own accord it was past five, and +that in two hours we should be at breakfast. + +His condescension was thrown away: we continued all obdurate; the ladies +held up their heads; I amused myself with watching their behaviour; and +of the other two, one seemed to employ himself in counting the trees as +we drove by them, the other drew his hat over his eyes, and +counterfeited a slumber. The man of benevolence, to shew that he was not +depressed by our neglect, hummed a tune, and beat time upon his +snuff-box. + +Thus universally displeased with one another, and not much delighted +with ourselves, we came at last to the little inn appointed for our +repast; and all began at once to recompense themselves for the +constraint of silence, by innumerable questions and orders to the people +that attended us. At last, what every one had called for was got, or +declared impossible to be got at that time, and we were persuaded to sit +round the same table; when the gentleman in the red surtout looked again +upon his watch, told us that we had half an hour to spare, but he was +sorry to see so little merriment among us; that all fellow travellers +were for the time upon the level, and that it was always his way to make +himself one of the company. "I remember," says he, "it was on just such +a morning as this, that I and my Lord Mumble and the Duke of Tenterden +were out upon a ramble: we called at a little house as it might be this; +and my landlady, I warrant you, not suspecting to whom she was talking, +was so jocular and facetious, and made so many merry answers to our +questions, that we were all ready to burst with laughter. At last the +good woman happening to overhear me whisper the duke and call him by his +title, was so surprised and confounded, that we could scarcely get a +word from her; and the duke never met me from that day to this, but he +talks of the little house, and quarrels with me for terrifying the +landlady." + +He had scarcely time to congratulate himself on the veneration which +this narrative must have procured for him from the company, when one of +the ladies having reached out for a plate on a distant part of the +table, began to remark, "the inconveniencies of travelling, and the +difficulty which they who never sat at home without a great number of +attendants, found in performing for themselves such offices as the road +required; but that people of quality often travelled in disguise, and +might be generally known from the vulgar by their condescension to poor +inn-keepers, and the allowance which they made for any defect in their +entertainment; that for her part, while people were civil and meant +well, it was never her custom to find fault, for one was not to expect +upon a journey all that one enjoyed at one's own house." + +A general emulation seemed now to be excited. One of the men who had +hitherto said nothing, called for the last newspaper; and having perused +it a while with deep pensiveness, "It is impossible," says he, "for any +man to guess how to act with regard to the stocks; last week it was the +general opinion that they would fall; and I sold out twenty thousand +pounds in order to a purchase: they have now risen unexpectedly; and I +make no doubt but at my return to London I shall risk thirty thousand +pounds among them again." + +A young man, who had hitherto distinguished himself only by the vivacity +of his looks, and a frequent diversion of his eyes from one object to +another, upon this closed his snuff-box, and told us that "he had a +hundred times talked with the chancellor and the judges on the subject +of the stocks; that for his part he did not pretend to be well +acquainted with the principles on which they were established, but had +always heard them reckoned pernicious to trade, uncertain in their +produce, and unsolid in their foundation; and that he had been advised +by three judges, his most intimate friends, never to venture his money +in the funds, but to put it out upon land security, till he could light +upon an estate in his own country." + +It might be expected, that upon these glimpses of latent dignity, we +should all have begun to look round us with veneration; and have behaved +like the princes of romance, when the enchantment that disguises them is +dissolved, and they discover the dignity of each other; yet it happened, +that none of these hints made much impression on the company; every one +was apparently suspected of endeavouring to impose false appearances +upon the rest; all continued their haughtiness in hopes to enforce their +claims; and all grew every hour more sullen, because they found their +representations of themselves without effect. + +Thus we travelled on four days with malevolence perpetually increasing, +and without any endeavour but to outvie each other in superciliousness +and neglect; and when any two of us could separate ourselves for a +moment we vented our indignation at the sauciness of the rest. + +At length the journey was at an end; and time and chance, that strip off +all disguises, have discovered that the intimate of lords and dukes is a +nobleman's butler, who has furnished a shop with the money he has saved; +the man who deals so largely in the funds, is the clerk of a broker in +Change-alley; the lady who so carefully concealed her quality, keeps a +cook-shop behind the Exchange; and the young man who is so happy in the +friendship of the judges, engrosses and transcribes for bread in a +garret of the Temple. Of one of the women only I could make no +disadvantageous detection, because she had assumed no character, but +accommodated herself to the scene before her, without any struggle for +distinction or superiority. + +I could not forbear to reflect on the folly of practising a fraud, +which, as the event showed, had been already practised too often to +succeed, and by the success of which no advantage could have been +obtained; of assuming a character, which was to end with the day; and of +claiming upon false pretences honours which must perish with the breath +that paid them. + +But, Mr. Adventurer, let not those who laugh at me and my companions, +think this folly confined to a stagecoach. Every man in the journey of +life takes the same advantage of the ignorance of his fellow travellers, +disguises himself in counterfeited merit, and hears those praises with +complacency which his conscience reproaches him for accepting. Every man +deceives himself while he thinks he is deceiving others; and forgets +that the time is at hand when every illusion shall cease, when +fictitious excellence shall be torn away, and _all_ must be shown to +_all_ in their realestate. + +I am, Sir, your humble servant, + +Viator. + +[1] Johnson has made impressive allusion to the immortal work of + Cervantes in his second Rambler. Every reflecting man must arise + from its perusal with feelings of the deepest melancholy, with the + most tender commiseration for the weakness and lot of humanity. To + such a man its moral must ever be "profoundly sad." Vulgar minds + cannot know it. Hence it has ever been the favorite with the + intellectual class, while Gil Blas has more generally won the + applause of men of the world. An amusing anecdote of the almost + universal admiration for the _chef d'oeuvre_ of Le Sage may be found + in Butler's Reminiscences. + + That bigotted, yet extraordinary man, Alva, predicted, with + prophetic precision, the effects which the satire on Chivalry would + produce in Spain. _See Broad Stone of Honour; or Rules for the + Gentlemen of England._ + + + + +No. 85 TUESDAY, AUGUST 28, 1753. + + _Qui studet optatam cursu contingere metam, + Multa tulit fecitque puer._ HOR. De Ar. Poet. 412. + + The youth, who hopes th' Olympic prize to gain, + All arts must try, and every toil sustain. FRANCIS. + +It is observed by Bacon, that "reading makes a full man, conversation a +ready man, and writing an exact man." + +As Bacon attained to degrees of knowledge scarcely ever reached by any +other man, the directions which he gives for study have certainly a just +claim to our regard; for who can teach an art with so great authority, +as he that has practised it with undisputed success? + +Under the protection of so great a name, I shall, therefore, venture to +inculcate to my ingenious contemporaries, the necessity of reading, the +fitness of consulting other understandings than their own, and of +considering the sentiments and opinions of those who, however neglected +in the present age, had in their own times, and many of them a long time +afterwards, such reputation for knowledge and acuteness as will scarcely +ever be attained by those that despise them. + +An opinion has of late been, I know not how, propagated among us, that +libraries are filled only with useless lumber; that men of parts stand +in need of no assistance; and that to spend life in poring upon books, +is only to imbibe prejudices, to obstruct and embarrass the powers of +nature, to cultivate memory at the expense of judgment, and to bury +reason under a chaos of indigested learning. + +Such is the talk of many who think themselves wise, and of some who are +thought wise by others; of whom part probably believe their own tenets, +and part may be justly suspected of endeavouring to shelter their +ignorance in multitudes, and of wishing to destroy that reputation which +they have no hopes to share. It will, I believe, be found invariably +true, that learning was never decried by any learned man; and what +credit can be given to those who venture to condemn that which they do +not know? + +If reason has the power ascribed to it by its advocates, if so much is +to be discovered by attention and meditation, it is hard to believe, +that so many millions, equally participating of the bounties of nature +with ourselves, have been for ages upon ages meditating in vain: if the +wits of the present time expect the regard of posterity, which will then +inherit the reason which is now thought superior to instruction, surely +they may allow themselves to be instructed by the reason of former +generations. When, therefore, an author declares, that he has been able +to learn nothing from the writings of his predecessors, and such a +declaration has been lately made, nothing but a degree of arrogance +unpardonable in the greatest human understanding, can hinder him from +perceiving that he is raising prejudices against his own performance; +for with what hopes of success can he attempt that in which greater +abilities have hitherto miscarried? or with what peculiar force does he +suppose himself invigorated, that difficulties hitherto invincible +should give way before him? + +Of those whom Providence has qualified to make any additions to human +knowledge, the number is extremely small; and what can be added by each +single mind, even of this superior class, is very little: the greatest +part of mankind must owe all their knowledge, and all must owe far the +larger part of it, to the information of others. To understand the works +of celebrated authors, to comprehend their systems, and retain their +reasonings, is a task more than equal to common intellects; and he is by +no means to be accounted useless or idle, who has stored his mind with +acquired knowledge, and can detail it occasionally to others who have +less leisure or weaker abilities. + +Persius has justly observed, that knowledge is nothing to him who is not +known by others to possess it[1]: to the scholar himself it is nothing +with respect either to honour or advantage, for the world cannot reward +those qualities which are concealed from it; with respect to others it +is nothing, because it affords no help to ignorance or errour. + +It is with justice, therefore, that in an accomplished character, Horace +unites just sentiments with the power of expressing them; and he that +has once accumulated learning, is next to consider, how he shall most +widely diffuse and most agreeably impart it. + +A ready man is made by conversation. He that buries himself among his +manuscripts, "besprent," as Pope expresses it, "with learned dust," and +wears out his days and nights in perpetual research and solitary +meditation, is too apt to lose in his elocution what he adds to his +wisdom; and when he comes into the world, to appear overloaded with his +own notions, like a man armed with weapons which he cannot wield. He has +no facility of inculcating his speculations, of adapting himself to the +various degrees of intellect which the accidents of conversation will +present; but will talk to most unintelligibly, and to all unpleasantly. + +I was once present at the lectures of a profound philosopher, a man +really skilled in the science which he professed, who having occasion to +explain the terms _opacum_ and _pellucidum_, told us, after some +hesitation, that _opacum_ was, as one might say, _opake_, and that +_pellucidum_ signified _pellucid_. Such was the dexterity with which +this learned reader facilitated to his auditors the intricacies of +science; and so true is it, that a man may know what he cannot teach. + +Boerhaave complains, that the writers who have treated of chymistry +before him, are useless to the greater part of students, because they +presuppose their readers to have such degrees of skill as are not often +to be found. Into the same errour are all men apt to fall, who have +familiarized any subject to themselves in solitude: they discourse, as +if they thought every other man had been employed in the same inquiries; +and expect that short hints and obscure allusions will produce in others +the same train of ideas which they excite in themselves. + +Nor is this the only inconvenience which the man of study suffers from a +recluse life. When he meets with an opinion that pleases him, he catches +it up with eagerness; looks only after such arguments as tend to his +confirmation; or spares himself the trouble of discussion, and adopts it +with very little proof; indulges it long without suspicion, and in time +unites it to the general body of his knowledge, and treasures it up +among incontestable truths: but when he comes into the world among men +who, arguing upon dissimilar principles, have been led to different +conclusions, and being placed in various situations, view the same +object on many sides; he finds his darling position attacked, and +himself in no condition to defend it: having thought always in one +train, he is in the state of a man who having fenced always with the +same master, is perplexed and amazed by a new posture of his antagonist; +he is entangled in unexpected difficulties, he is harassed by sudden +objections, he is unprovided with solutions or replies; his surprise +impedes his natural powers of reasoning, his thoughts are scattered and +confounded, and he gratifies the pride of airy petulance with an easy +victory. + +It is difficult to imagine, with what obstinacy truths which one mind +perceives almost by intuition, will be rejected by another; and how many +artifices must be practised, to procure admission for the most evident +propositions into understandings frighted by their novelty, or hardened +against them by accidental prejudice; it can scarcely be conceived, how +frequently, in these extemporaneous controversies, the dull will be +subtle, and the acute absurd; how often stupidity will elude the force +of argument, by involving itself in its own gloom; and mistaken +ingenuity will weave artful fallacies, which reason can scarcely find +means to disentangle. + +In these encounters the learning of the recluse usually fails him: +nothing but long habit and frequent experiments can confer the power of +changing a position into various forms, presenting it in different +points of view, connecting it with known and granted truths, fortifying +it with intelligible arguments, and illustrating it by apt similitudes; +and he, therefore, that has collected his knowledge in solitude, must +learn its application by mixing with mankind. + +But while the various opportunities of conversation invite us to try +every mode of argument, and every art of recommending our sentiments, we +are frequently betrayed to the use of such as are not in themselves +strictly defensible: a man heated in talk, and eager of victory, takes +advantage of the mistakes or ignorance of his adversary, lays hold of +concessions to which he knows he has no right, and urges proofs likely +to prevail on his opponent, though he knows himself that they have no +force: thus the severity of reason is relaxed, many topicks are +accumulated, but without just arrangement or distinction; we learn to +satisfy ourselves with such ratiocination as silences others; and seldom +recall to a close examination, that discourse which has gratified our +vanity with victory and applause. + +Some caution, therefore, must be used lest copiousness and facility be +made less valuable by inaccuracy and confusion. To fix the thoughts by +writing, and subject them to frequent examinations and reviews, is the +best method of enabling the mind to detect its own sophisms, and keep it +on guard against the fallacies which it practises on others: in +conversation we naturally diffuse our thoughts, and in writing we +contract them; method is the excellence of writing, and unconstraint the +grace of conversation. + +To read, write, and converse in due proportions, is, therefore, the +business of a man of letters. For all these there is not often equal +opportunity; excellence, therefore, is not often attainable; and most +men fail in one or other of the ends proposed, and are full without +readiness, or without exactness. Some deficiency must be forgiven all, +because all are men; and more must be allowed to pass uncensured in the +greater part of the world, because none can confer upon himself +abilities, and few have the choice of situations proper for the +improvement of those which nature has bestowed: it is, however, +reasonable to have _perfection_ in our eye; that we may always advance +towards it, though we know it never can be reached. + +[1] Scire tuum nihil est, nisi te scire hoc sciat alter. Sat. i. 27. + + + + +No. 92. SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 22, 1753. + + _Cum tabulis animum censoris sumet honesti._HOR. Lib. ii. Ep. it. 110. + + Bold be the critick, zealous to his trust, + Like the firm judge inexorably just. + +TO THE ADVENTURER. + +Sir, + +In the papers of criticism which you have given to the publick, I have +remarked a spirit of candour and love of truth equally remote from +bigotry and captiousness; a just distribution of praise amongst the +ancients and the moderns: a sober deference to reputation long +established, without a blind adoration of antiquity; and a willingness +to favour later performances, without a light or puerile fondness for +novelty. + +I shall, therefore, venture to lay before you, such observations as have +risen to my mind in the consideration of Virgil's pastorals, without any +inquiry how far my sentiments deviate from established rules or common +opinions. + +If we survey the ten pastorals in a general view, it will be found that +Virgil can derive from them very little claim to the praise of an +inventor. To search into the antiquity of this kind of poetry is not my +present purpose; that it has long subsisted in the east, the _Sacred +Writings_ sufficiently inform us; and we may conjecture, with great +probability, that it was sometimes the devotion, and sometimes the +entertainment of the first generations of mankind. Theocritus united +elegance with simplicity; and taught his shepherds to sing with so much +ease and harmony, that his countrymen, despairing to excel, forbore to +imitate him; and the Greeks, however vain or ambitious, left him in +quiet possession of the garlands which the wood-nymphs had bestowed upon +him. + +Virgil, however, taking advantage of another language, ventured to copy +or to rival the _Sicilian bard_: he has written with greater splendour +of diction, and elevation of sentiment: but as the magnificence of his +performances was more, the simplicity was less; and, perhaps, where he +excels Theocritus, he sometimes obtains his superiority by deviating +from the pastoral character, and performing what Theocritus never +attempted. + +Yet, though I would willingly pay to Theocritus the honour which is +always due to an original author, I am far from intending to depreciate +Virgil: of whom Horace justly declares, that the rural muses have +appropriated to him their elegance and sweetness, and who, as he copied +Theocritus in his design, has resembled him likewise in his success; +for, if we except Calphurnius, an obscure author of the lower ages, I +know not that a single pastoral was written after him by any poet, till +the revival of literature. + +But though his general merit has been universally acknowledged, I am far +from thinking all the productions of his rural Thalia equally excellent; +there is, indeed, in all his pastorals a strain of versification which +it is vain to seek in any other poet; but if we except the first and the +tenth, they seem liable either wholly or in part to considerable +objections. + +The second, though we should forget the great charge against it, which I +am afraid can never be refuted, might, I think, have perished, without +any diminution of the praise of its author; for I know not that it +contains one affecting sentiment or pleasing description, or one passage +that strikes the imagination or awakens the passions. + +The third contains a contest between two shepherds, begun with a quarrel +of which some particulars might well be spared, carried on with +sprightliness and elegance, and terminated at last in a reconciliation: +but, surely, whether the invectives with which they attack each other be +true or false, they are too much degraded from the dignity of pastoral +innocence; and instead of rejoicing that they are both victorious, I +should not have grieved could they have been both defeated. + +The poem to Pollio is, indeed, of another kind: it is filled with images +at once splendid and pleasing, and is elevated with grandeur of language +worthy of the first of Roman poets; but I am not able to reconcile +myself to the disproportion between the performance and the occasion +that produced it: that the golden age should return because Pollio had a +son, appears so wild a fiction, that I am ready to suspect the poet of +having written, for some other purpose, what he took this opportunity of +producing to the publick. + +The fifth contains a celebration of Daphnis, which has stood to all +succeeding ages as the model of pastoral elegies. To deny praise to a +performance which so many thousands have laboured to imitate, would be +to judge with too little deference for the opinion of mankind: yet +whoever shall read it with impartiality, will find that most of the +images are of the mythological kind, and therefore easily invented; and +that there are few sentiments of rational praise or natural lamentation. + +In the Silenus he again rises to the dignity of philosophick sentiments, +and heroick poetry. The address to Varus is eminently beautiful: but +since the compliment paid to Gallus fixes the transaction to his own +time, the fiction of Silenus seems injudicious: nor has any sufficient +reason yet been found, to justify his choice of those fables that make +the subject of the song. + +The seventh exhibits another contest of the tuneful shepherds: and, +surely, it is not without some reproach to his inventive power, that of +ten pastorals Virgil has written two upon the same plan. One of the +shepherds now gains an acknowledged victory, but without any apparent, +superiority, and the reader, when he sees the prize adjudged, is not +able to discover how it was deserved. + +Of the eighth pastoral, so little is properly the work of Virgil, that +he has no claim to other praise or blame, than that of a translator. + +Of the ninth, it is scarce possible to discover the design or tendency; +it is said, I know not upon what authority, to have been composed from +fragments of other poems; and except a few lines in which the author +touches upon his own misfortunes, there is nothing that seems +appropriated to any time or place, or of which any other use can be +discovered than to fill up the poem. + +The first and the tenth pastorals, whatever be determined of the rest, +are sufficient to place their author above the reach of rivalry. The +complaint of Gallus disappointed in his love, is full of such sentiments +as disappointed love naturally produces; his wishes are wild, his +resentment is tender, and his purposes are inconstant. In the genuine +language of despair, he soothes himself awhile with the pity that shall +be paid him after his death. + + _--Tamen cantabitis, Arcades, inquit, + Montibus haec vestris: soli cantare periti + Arcades. O mihi tum quam molliter ossa quiescant, + Vestra meos olim si fistula dicat amores!_ Virg. Ec. x. 31. + + --Yet, O Arcadian swains, + Ye best artificers of soothing strains! + Tune your soft reeds, and teach your rocks my woes, + So shall my shade in sweeter rest repose. + O that your birth and business had been mine; + To feed the flock, and prune the spreading vine! WARTON. + +Discontented with his present condition, and desirous to be any thing +but what he is, he wishes himself one of the shepherds. He then catches +the idea of rural tranquillity; but soon discovers how much happier he +should be in these happy regions, with Lycoris at his side: + + _Hic gelidi fontes, hic mollia prata, Lycori: + Hic nemus, hic ipso tecum consumerer aevo. + Nunc insanus amor duri me Martis in armis + Tela inter media atque adversos detinet hostes. + Tu procul a patria (nec sit mihi credere) tantum + Alpinas, ah dura, nives, et frigora Rheni + Me sine sola vides. Ah te ne frigora laedant! + Ah tibi ne teneras glacies secet aspera plantas!_ Ec. x. 42. + + Here cooling fountains roll through flow'ry meads, + Here woods, Lycoris, lift their verdant heads; + Here could I wear my careless life away, + And in thy arms insensibly decay. + Instead of that, me frantick love detains, + 'Mid foes, and dreadful darts, and bloody plains: + While you--and can my soul the tale believe, + Far from your country, lonely wand'ring leave + Me, me your lover, barbarous fugitive! + Seek the rough Alps where snows eternal shine, + And joyless borders of the frozen Rhine. + Ah! may no cold e'er blast my dearest maid, + Nor pointed ice thy tender feet invade. WARTON. + +He then turns his thoughts on every side, in quest of something that may +solace or amuse him: he proposes happiness to himself, first in one +scene and then in another: and at last finds that nothing will satisfy: + + _Jam neque Hamadryades rursum, nec carmina nobis + Ipsa placent: ipsae rursum concedite sylvae. + Non illum nostri possunt mutare labores; + Nec si frigoribus mediis Hebrumque bibamus, + Sithoniasque nives hyemis subeamus aquosae: + Nec si, cum moriens alta liber aret in ulmo + Aethiopum versemus oves sub sidere Cancri. + Omnia vincit amor; et nos cedamns amori._ Ec. x. 62. + + But now again no more the woodland maids, + Nor pastoral songs delight--Farewell, ye shades-- + No toils of ours the cruel god can change, + Tho' lost in frozen deserts we should range; + Tho' we should drink where chilling Hebrus flows, + Endure bleak winter blasts, and Thracian snows: + Or on hot India's plains our flocks should feed, + Where the parch'd elm declines his sickening head, + Beneath fierce-glowing Cancer's fiery beams, + Far from cool breezes and refreshing streams. + Love over all maintains resistless sway, + And let us love's all-conquering power obey. WARTON. + +But notwithstanding the excellence of the tenth pastoral, I cannot +forbear to give the preference to the first, which is equally natural +and more diversified. The complaint of the shepherd, who saw his old +companion at ease in the shade, while himself was driving his little +flock he knew not whither, is such as, with variation of circumstances, +misery always utters at the sight of prosperity: + + _Nos patriae fines, et dulcia linquimus arra; + Nos patrium fugimus: Tu, Tityre, lentus in umbra + Formosam resonare doces Amaryllida sylvas._ Ec. i. 3. + + We leave our country's bounds, our much-lov'd plains; + We from our country fly, unhappy swains! + You, Tit'rus, in the groves at leisure laid, + Teach Amaryllis' name to every shade. WARTON. + +His account of the difficulties of his journey, gives a very tender +image of pastoral distress: + + --_En ipse capellas + Protenus aeger ago: hanc etiam vix, Tityre, duco: + Hic inter densas corylos modo namque gemellos, + Spem gregis, ah! silice in nuda connixa reliquit._ Ec. i. 12. + + And lo! sad partner of the general care, + Weary and faint I drive my goats afar! + While scarcely this my leading hand sustains, + Tired with the way, and recent from her pains; + For 'mid yon tangled hazels as we past, + On the bare flints her hapless twin she cast, + The hopes and promise of my ruin'd fold! WARTON. + +The description of Virgil's happiness in his little farm, combines +almost all the images of rural pleasure; and he, therefore, that can +read it with indifference, has no sense of pastoral poetry: + + _Fortunate senex! ergo tua rura manebunt, + Et tibi magna satis; quamvis lapis omnia nudus, + Limosoque palus obducat pascua junco: + Non insueta graves tentabunt pabula foetas, + Nec mala vicini pecoris contagia laedent. + Fortunate senex! hic inter flumina nota, + Et fontes sacros, frigus captabis opacum. + Hinc tibi, quae semper vicino ab limite sepes, + Hyblaeis apibus florem depasta salicti, + Saepe levi somnum suadebit inire susurro. + Hinc alta sub rupe canet frondator ad auras. + Nec tamen interea raucae, tua cura, palumbes, + Nec gemere aëria cessabit turtur ab ulmo._ Ec. i. 47 + + Happy old man! then still thy farms restored, + Enough for thee, shall bless thy frugal board. + What tho' rough stones the naked soil o'erspread, + Or marshy bulrush rear its wat'ry head, + No foreign food thy teeming ewes shall fear, + No touch contagious spread its influence here. + Happy old man! here 'mid th' accustom'd streams + And sacred springs, you'll shun the scorching beams; + While from yon willow-fence, thy picture's bound, + The bees that suck their flow'ry stores around, + Shall sweetly mingle with the whispering boughs + Their lulling murmurs, and invite repose: + While from steep rocks the pruner's song is heard; + Nor the soft-cooing dove, thy fav'rite bird, + Meanwhile shall cease to breathe her melting strain, + Nor turtles from th' aërial elm to 'plain. WARTON. + +It may be observed, that these two poems were produced by events that +really happened; and may, therefore, be of use to prove, that we can +always feel more than we can imagine, and that the most artful fiction +must give way to truth. + +I am, Sir, +Your humble servant, + +DUBIUS. + + + + +No. 95. TUESDAY, OCTOBER 2, 1753. + + --_Dulcique animos novitate tenebo_. OVID. Met. iv. 284. + + And with sweet novelty your soul detain. + +It is often charged upon writers, that with all their pretensions to +genius and discoveries, they do little more than copy one another; and +that compositions obtruded upon the world with the pomp of novelty, +contain only tedious repetitions of common sentiments, or at best +exhibit a transposition of known images, and give a new appearance to +truth only by some slight difference of dress and decoration. + +The allegation of resemblance between authors is indisputably true; but +the charge of plagiarism, which is raised upon it, is not to be allowed +with equal readiness. A coincidence of sentiment may easily happen +without any communication, since there are many occasions in which all +reasonable men will nearly think alike. Writers of all ages have had the +same sentiments, because they have in all ages had the same objects of +speculation; the interests and passions, the virtues and vices of +mankind, have been diversified in different times, only by unessential +and casual varieties: and we must, therefore, expect in the works of all +those who attempt to describe them, such a likeness as we find in the +pictures of the same person drawn in different periods of his life. + +It is necessary, therefore, that before an author be charged with +plagiarism, one of the most reproachful, though, perhaps, not the most +atrocious of literary crimes, the subject on which he treats should be +carefully considered. We do not wonder, that historians, relating the +same facts, agree in their narration; or that authors, delivering the +elements of science, advance the same theorems, and lay down the same +definitions: yet it is not wholly without use to mankind, that books are +multiplied, and that different authors lay out their labours on the same +subject; for there will always be some reason why one should on +particular occasions, or to particular persons, be preferable to +another; some will be clear where others are obscure, some will please +by their style and others by their method, some by their embellishments +and others by their simplicity, some by closeness and others by +diffusion. + +The same indulgence is to be shown to the writers of morality: right and +wrong are immutable; and those, therefore, who teach us to distinguish +them, if they all teach us right, must agree with one another. The +relations of social life, and the duties resulting from them, must be +the same at all times and in all nations: some petty differences may be, +indeed, produced, by forms of government or arbitrary customs; but the +general doctrine can receive no alteration. + +Yet it is not to be desired, that morality should be considered as +interdicted to all future writers: men will always be tempted to deviate +from their duty, and will, therefore, always want a monitor to recall +them; and a new book often seizes the attention of the publick, without +any other claim than that it is new. There is likewise in composition, +as in other things, a perpetual vicissitude of fashion; and truth is +recommended at one time to regard, by appearances which at another would +expose it to neglect; the author, therefore, who has judgment to discern +the taste of his contemporaries, and skill to gratify it, will have +always an opportunity to deserve well of mankind, by conveying +instruction to them in a grateful vehicle. + +There are likewise many modes of composition, by which a moralist may +deserve the name of an original writer: he may familiarize his system by +dialogues after the manner of the ancients, or subtilize it into a +series of syllogistick arguments: he may enforce his doctrine by +seriousness and solemnity, or enliven it by sprightliness and gaiety: he +may deliver his sentiments in naked precepts, or illustrate them by +historical examples: he may detain the studious by the artful +concatenation of a continued discourse, or relieve the busy by short +strictures, and unconnected essays. + +To excel in any of these forms of writing will require a particular +cultivation of the genius: whoever can attain to excellence, will be +certain to engage a set of readers, whom no other method would have +equally allured; and he that communicates truth with success, must be +numbered among the first benefactors to mankind. + +The same observation may be extended likewise to the passions: their +influence is uniform, and their effects nearly the same in every human +breast: a man loves and hates, desires and avoids, exactly like his +neighbour; resentment and ambition, avarice and indolence, discover +themselves by the same symptoms in minds distant a thousand years from +one another. + +Nothing, therefore, can be more unjust, than to charge an author with +plagiarism, merely because he assigns to every cause its natural effect; +and makes his personages act, as others in like circumstances have +always done. There are conceptions in which all men will agree, though +each derives them from his own observation: whoever has been in love, +will represent a lover impatient of every idea that interrupts his +meditations on his mistress, retiring to shades and solitude, that he +may muse without disturbance on his approaching happiness, or +associating himself with some friend that flatters his passion, and +talking away the hours of absence upon his darling subject. Whoever has +been so unhappy as to have felt the miseries of long-continued hatred, +will, without any assistance from ancient volumes, be able to relate how +the passions are kept in perpetual agitation, by the recollection of +injury and meditations of revenge; how the blood boils at the name of +the enemy, and life is worn away in contrivances of mischief. + +Every other passion is alike simple and limited, if it be considered +only with regard to the breast which it inhabits; the anatomy of the +mind, as that of the body, must perpetually exhibit the same +appearances; and though by the continued industry of successive +inquirers, new movements will be from time to time discovered, they can +affect only the minuter parts, and are commonly of more curiosity than +importance. + +It will now be natural to inquire, by what arts are the writers of the +present and future ages to attract the notice; and favour of mankind. +They are to observe the alterations which time is always making in the +modes of life, that they may gratify every generation with a picture of +themselves. Thus love is uniform, but courtship is perpetually varying: +the different arts of gallantry, which beauty has inspired, would of +themselves be sufficient to fill a volume; sometimes balls and +serenades, sometimes tournaments and adventures, have been employed to +melt the hearts of ladies, who in another century have been sensible of +scarce any other merit than that of riches, and listened only to +jointures and pin-money. Thus the ambitious man has at all times been +eager of wealth and power; but these hopes have been gratified in some +countries by supplicating the people, and in others by flattering the +prince: honour in some states has been only the reward of military +achievements, in others it has been gained by noisy turbulence and +popular clamour. Avarice has worn a different form, as she actuated the +usurer of Rome, and the stock-jobber of England; and idleness itself, +how little soever inclined to the trouble of invention, has been forced +from time to time to change its amusements, and contrive different +methods of wearing out the day. + +Here then is the fund, from which those who study mankind may fill their +compositions with an inexhaustible variety of images and allusions: and +he must be confessed to look with little attention upon scenes thus +perpetually changing, who cannot catch some of the figures before they +are made vulgar by reiterated descriptions. + +It has been discovered by Sir Isaac Newton, that the distinct and +primogenial colours are only seven; but every eye can witness, that from +various mixtures, in various proportions, infinite diversifications of +tints may be produced. In like manner, the passions of the mind, which +put the world in motion, and produce all the bustle and eagerness of the +busy crowds that swarm upon the earth; the passions, from whence arise +all the pleasures and pains that we see and hear of, if we analyze the +mind of man, are very few; but those few agitated and combined, as +external causes shall happen to operate, and modified by prevailing +opinions and accidental caprices, make such frequent alterations on the +surface of life, that the show, while we are busied in delineating it, +vanishes from the view, and a new set of objects succeed, doomed to the +same shortness of duration with the former: thus curiosity may always +find employment, and the busy part of mankind will furnish the +contemplative with the materials of speculation to the end of time. + +The complaint, therefore, that all topicks are preoccupied, is nothing +more than the murmur of ignorance or idleness, by which some discourage +others, and some themselves; the mutability of mankind will always +furnish writers with new images, and the luxuriance of fancy may always +embellish them with new decorations. + + + + +No. 99. TUESDAY, OCTOBER 16, 1753. + + --_Magnis tamen excidit ausis_. OVID. Met. Lib. ii. 328. + + But in the glorious enterprise he died. ADDISON. + +It has always been the practice of mankind, to judge of actions by the +event. The same attempts, conducted in the same manner, but terminated +by different success, produce different judgments: they who attain their +wishes, never want celebrators of their wisdom and their virtue; and +they that miscarry, are quickly discovered to have been defective not +only in mental but in moral qualities. The world will never be long +without some good reason to hate the unhappy; their real faults are +immediately detected; and if those are not sufficient to sink them into +infamy, an additional weight of calumny will be superadded: he that +fails in his endeavours after wealth or power, will not long retain +either honesty or courage. + +This species of injustice has so long prevailed in universal practice, +that it seems likewise to have infected speculation: so few minds are +able to separate the ideas of greatness and prosperity, that even Sir +William Temple has determined, "that he who can deserve the name of a +hero, must not only be virtuous but fortunate." + +By this unreasonable distribution of praise and blame, none have +suffered oftener than projectors, whose rapidity of imagination and +vastness of design raise such envy in their fellow mortals, that every +eye watches for their fall, and every heart exults at their distresses: +yet even a projector may gain favour by success; and the tongue that was +prepared to hiss, then endeavours to excel others in loudness of +applause. + +When Coriolanus, in Shakespeare, deserted to Aufidius, the Volscian +servants at first insulted him, even while he stood under the protection +of the household gods: but when they saw that the project took effect, +and the stranger was seated at the head of the table, one of them very +judiciously observes, "that he always thought there was more in him than +he could think." + +Machiavel has justly animadverted on the different notice taken by all +succeeding times, of the two great projectors, Cataline and Cæsar. Both +formed the same project, and intended to raise themselves to power, by +subverting the commonwealth: they pursued their design, perhaps, with +equal abilities, and with equal virtue; but Cataline perished in the +field, and Cæsar returned from Pharsalia with unlimited authority: and +from that time, every monarch of the earth has thought himself honoured +by a comparison with Cæsar; and Cataline has been never mentioned, but +that his name might be applied to traitors and incendiaries. + +In an age more remote, Xerxes projected the conquest of Greece, and +brought down the power of Asia against it: but after the world had been +filled with expectation and terrour, his army was beaten, his fleet was +destroyed, and Xerxes has been never mentioned without contempt. + +A few years afterwards, Greece likewise had her turn of giving birth to +a projector; who invading Asia with a small army, went forward in search +of adventures, and by his escape from one danger, gained only more +rashness to rush into another: he stormed city after city, over-ran +kingdom after kingdom, fought battles only for barren victory, and +invaded nations only that he might make his way through them to new +invasions: but having been fortunate in the execution of his projects, +he died with the name of Alexander the Great. + +These are, indeed, events of ancient times; but human nature is always +the same, and every age will afford us instances of publick censures +influenced by events. The great business of the middle centuries, was +the holy war; which undoubtedly was a noble project, and was for a long +time prosecuted with a spirit equal to that with which it had been +contrived; but the ardour of the European heroes only hurried them to +destruction; for a long time they could not gain the territories for +which they fought, and, when at last gained, they could not keep them: +their expeditions, therefore, have been the scoff of idleness and +ignorance, their understanding and their virtue have been equally +vilified, their conduct has been ridiculed, and their cause has been +defamed. + +When Columbus had engaged king Ferdinand in the discovery of the other +hemisphere, the sailors, with whom he embarked in the expedition, had so +little confidence in their commander, that after having been long at sea +looking for coasts which they expected never to find, they raised a +general mutiny, and demanded to return. He found means to sooth them +into a permission to continue the same course three days longer, and on +the evening of the third day descried land. Had the impatience of his +crew denied him a few hours of the time requested, what had been his +fate but to have come back with the infamy of a vain projector, who had +betrayed the king's credulity to useless expenses, and risked his life +in seeking countries that had no existence? how would those that had +rejected his proposals have triumphed in their acuteness! and when would +his name have been mentioned, but with the makers of potable gold and +malleable glass? + +The last royal projectors with whom the world has been troubled, were +Charles of Sweden and the Czar of Muscovy. Charles, if any judgment may +be formed of his designs by his measures and his inquiries, had purposed +first to dethrone the Czar, then to lead his army through pathless +deserts into China, thence to make his way by the sword through the +whole circuit of Asia, and by the conquest of Turkey to unite Sweden +with his new dominions: but this mighty project was crushed at Pultowa; +and Charles has since been considered as a madman by those powers, who +sent their ambassadors to solicit his friendship, and their generals "to +learn under him the art of war." + +The Czar found employment sufficient in his own dominions, and amused +himself in digging canals, and building cities: murdering his subjects +with insufferable fatigues, and transplanting nations from one corner of +his dominions to another, without regretting the thousands that perished +on the way: but he attained his end, he made his people formidable, and +is numbered by fame among the demi-gods. + +I am far from intending to vindicate the sanguinary projects of heroes +and conquerors, and would wish rather to diminish the reputation of +their success, than the infamy of their miscarriages: for I cannot +conceive, why he that has burned cities, wasted nations, and filled the +world with horrour and desolation, should be more kindly regarded by +mankind, than he that died in the rudiments of wickedness; why he that +accomplished mischief should be glorious, and he that only endeavoured +it should be criminal. I would wish Cæsar and Catiline, Xerxes and +Alexander, Charles and Peter, huddled together in obscurity or +detestation. + +But there is another species of projectors, to whom I would willingly +conciliate mankind; whose ends are generally laudable, and whose labours +are innocent; who are searching out new powers of nature, or contriving +new works of art; but who are yet persecuted with incessant obloquy, and +whom the universal contempt with which they are treated, often debars +from that success which their industry would obtain, if it were +permitted to act without opposition. + +They who find themselves inclined to censure new undertakings, only +because they are new, should consider, that the folly of projection is +very seldom the folly of a fool; it is commonly the ebullition of a +capacious mind, crowded with variety of knowledge, and heated with +intenseness of thought; it proceeds often from the consciousness of +uncommon powers, from the confidence of those, who having already done +much, are easily persuaded that they can do more. When Rowley had +completed the orrery, he attempted the perpetual motion; when Boyle had +exhausted the secrets of vulgar chymistry, he turned his thoughts to the +work of transmutation[1]. + +A projector generally unites those qualities which have the fairest +claim to veneration, extent of knowledge and greatness of design; it was +said of Catiline, "_immoderata, incredibilia, nimis alta semper +cupiebat_." Projectors of all kinds agree in their intellects, though +they differ in their morals; they all fail by attempting things beyond +their power, by despising vulgar attainments, and aspiring to +performances to which, perhaps, nature has not proportioned the force of +man: when they fail, therefore, they fail not by idleness or timidity, +but by rash adventure and fruitless diligence. + +That the attempts of such men will often miscarry, we may reasonably +expect; yet from such men, and such only, are we to hope for the +cultivation of those parts of nature which lie yet waste, and the +invention of those arts which are yet wanting to the felicity of life. +If they are, therefore, universally discouraged, art and discovery can +make no advances. Whatever is attempted without previous certainty of +success, may be considered as a project, and amongst narrow minds may, +therefore, expose its author to censure and contempt; and if the liberty +of laughing be once indulged, every man will laugh at what he does not +understand, every project will be considered as madness, and every great +or new design will be censured as a project. Men unaccustomed to reason +and researches, think every enterprise impracticable, which is extended +beyond common effects, or comprises many intermediate operations. Many +that presume to laugh at projectors, would consider a flight through the +air in a winged chariot, and the movement of a mighty engine by the +steam of water as equally the dreams of mechanick lunacy; and would +hear, with equal negligence, of the union of the Thames and Severn by a +canal, and the scheme of Albuquerque, the viceroy of the Indies, who in +the rage of hostility had contrived to make Egypt a barren desert, by +turning the Nile into the Red Sea. + +Those who have attempted much, have seldom failed to perform more than +those who never deviate from the common roads of action: many valuable +preparations of chymistry are supposed to have risen from unsuccessful +inquiries after the grand elixir: it is, therefore, just to encourage +those who endeavour to enlarge the power of art, since they often +succeed beyond expectation; and when they fail, may sometimes benefit +the world even by their miscarriages. + +[1] Sir Richard Steele was infatuated, with notions of Alchemy, and + wasted money in its visionary projects. He had a laboratory at + Poplar. Addisoniana, vol i. p. 10. + + The readers of Washington Irving's Brace-Bridge Hall will recollect + a pleasing and popular exposition of the alternately splendid and + benevolent, and always passionate reveries of the Alchemist, in the + affecting story of the Student of Salamanca. + + + + +No. 102. SATURDAY, OCTOBER 27, 1753. + + --_Quid tam dextro pede concipis, ut te + Conatus non poeniteat votique peracti?_ JUV. Sat. x. 5. + + What in the conduct of our life appears + So well design'd, so luckily begun, + But when we have our wish, we wish undone. DRYDEN. + +TO THE ADVENTURER. + +Sir, + +I have been for many years a trader in London. My beginning was narrow, +and my stock small; I was, therefore, a long time brow-beaten and +despised by those, who, having more money, thought they had more merit +than myself. I did not, however, suffer my resentment to instigate me to +any mean arts of supplantation, nor my eagerness of riches to betray me +to any indirect methods of gain; I pursued my business with incessant +assiduity, supported by the hope of being one day richer than those who +contemned me; and had, upon every annual review of my books, the +satisfaction of finding my fortune increased beyond my expectation. + +In a few years my industry and probity were fully recompensed, my wealth +was really great, and my reputation for wealth still greater. I had +large warehouses crowded with goods, and considerable sums in the +publick funds; I was caressed upon the Exchange by the most eminent +merchants; became the oracle of the common council; was solicited to +engage in all commercial undertakings; was flattered with the hopes of +becoming in a short time one of the directors of a wealthy company, and, +to complete my mercantile honours, enjoyed the expensive happiness of +fining for sheriff. + +Riches, you know, easily produce riches; when I had arrived to this +degree of wealth, I had no longer any obstruction or opposition to fear; +new acquisitions were hourly brought within my reach, and I continued +for some years longer to heap thousands upon thousands. + +At last I resolved to complete the circle of a citizen's prosperity by +the purchase of an estate in the country, and to close my life in +retirement. From the hour that this design entered my imagination, I +found the fatigues of my employment every day more oppressive, and +persuaded myself that I was no longer equal to perpetual attention, and +that my health would soon be destroyed by the torment and distraction of +extensive business. I could image to myself no happiness, but in vacant +jollity, and uninterrupted leisure: nor entertain my friends with any +other topick than the vexation and uncertainty of trade, and the +happiness of rural privacy. + +But, notwithstanding these declarations, I could not at once reconcile +myself to the thoughts of ceasing to get money; and though I was every +day inquiring for a purchase, I found some reason for rejecting all that +were offered me; and, indeed, had accumulated so many beauties and +conveniencies in my idea of the spot where I was finally to be happy, +that, perhaps, the world might have been travelled over without +discovery of a place which would not have been defective in some +particular. + +Thus I went on, still talking of retirement, and still refusing to +retire; my friends began to laugh at my delays, and I grew ashamed to +trifle longer with my own inclinations; an estate was at length +purchased, I transferred my stock to a prudent young man who had married +my daughter, went down into the country, and commenced lord of a +spacious manor. + +Here for some time I found happiness equal to my expectation. I reformed +the old house according to the advice of the best architects, I threw +down the walls of the garden, and enclosed it with palisades, planted +long avenues of trees, filled a green-house with exotick plants, dug a +new canal, and threw the earth into the old moat. + +The fame of these expensive improvements brought in all the country to +see the show. I entertained my visitors with great liberality, led them +round my gardens, showed them my apartments, laid before them plans for +new decorations, and was gratified by the wonder of some and the envy of +others. + +I was envied: but how little can one man judge of the condition of +another! The time was now coming, in which affluence and splendour could +no longer make me pleased with myself. I had built till the imagination +of the architect was exhausted; I had added one convenience to another, +till I knew not what more to wish or to design; I had laid out my +gardens, planted my park, and completed my water-works; and what now +remained to be done? what, but to look up to turrets, of which when they +were once raised I had no further use, to range over apartments where +time was tarnishing the furniture, to stand by the cascade of which I +scarcely now perceived the sound, and to watch the growth of woods that +must give their shade to a distant generation. + +In this gloomy inactivity, is every day begun and ended: the happiness +that I have been so long procuring is now at an end, because it has been +procured; I wander from room to room, till I am weary of myself; I ride +out to a neighbouring hill in the centre of my estate, from whence all +my lands lie in prospect round me; I see nothing that I have not seen +before, and return home disappointed, though I knew that I had nothing +to expect. + +In my happy days of business I had been accustomed to rise early in the +morning; and remember the time when I grieved that the night came so +soon upon me, and obliged me for a few hours to shut out affluence and +prosperity. I now seldom see the rising sun, but to "tell him," with the +fallen angel, "how I hate his beams[1]." I awake from sleep as to +languor or imprisonment, and have no employment for the first hour but +to consider by what art I shall rid myself of the second. I protract the +breakfast as long as I can, because when it is ended I have no call for +my attention, till I can with some degree of decency grow impatient for +my dinner. If I could dine all my life, I should be happy; I eat not +because I am hungry, but because I am idle: but, alas! the time quickly +comes when I can eat no longer; and so ill does my constitution second +my inclination, that I cannot bear strong liquors: seven hours must then +be endured before I shall sup; but supper comes at last, the more +welcome as it is in a short time succeeded by sleep. + +Such, Mr. Adventurer, is the happiness, the hope of which seduced me +from the duties and pleasures of a mercantile life. I shall be told by +those who read my narrative, that there are many means of innocent +amusement, and many schemes of useful employment, which I do not appear +ever to have known; and that nature and art have provided pleasures, by +which, without the drudgery of settled business, the active may be +engaged, the solitary soothed, and the social entertained. + +These arts, Sir, I have tried. When first I took possession of my +estate, in conformity to the taste of my neighbours, I bought guns and +nets, filled my kennel with dogs, and my stable with horses: but a +little experience showed me, that these instruments of rural felicity +would afford me few gratifications. I never shot but to miss the mark, +and, to confess the truth, was afraid of the fire of my own gun. I could +discover no musick in the cry of the dogs, nor could divest myself of +pity for the animal whose peaceful and inoffensive life was sacrificed +to our sport. I was not, indeed, always at leisure to reflect upon her +danger; for my horse, who had been bred to the chase, did not always +regard my choice either of speed or way, but leaped hedges and ditches +at his own discretion, and hurried me along with the dogs, to the great +diversion of my brother sportsmen. His eagerness of pursuit once incited +him to swim a river; and I had leisure to resolve in the water, that I +would never hazard my life again for the destruction of a hare. + +I then ordered books to be procured, and by the direction of the vicar +had in a few weeks a closet elegantly furnished. You will, perhaps, be +surprised when I shall tell you, that when once I had ranged them +according to their sizes, and piled them up in regular gradations, I had +received all the pleasure which they could give me. I am not able to +excite in myself any curiosity after events which have been long passed, +and in which I can, therefore, have no interest; I am utterly +unconcerned to know whether Tully or Demosthenes excelled in oratory, +whether Hannibal lost Italy by his own negligence or the corruption of +his countrymen. I have no skill in controversial learning, nor can +conceive why so many volumes should have been written upon questions, +which I have lived so long and so happily without understanding. I once +resolved to go through the volumes relating to the office of justice of +the peace, but found them so crabbed and intricate, that in less than a +month I desisted in despair, and resolved to supply my deficiencies by +paying a competent salary to a skilful clerk. + +I am naturally inclined to hospitality, and for some time kept up a +constant intercourse of visits with the neighbouring gentlemen; but +though they are easily brought about me by better wine than they can +find at any other house, I am not much relieved by their conversation; +they have no skill in commerce or the stocks, and I have no knowledge of +the history of families or the factions of the country; so that when the +first civilities are over, they usually talk to one another, and I am +left alone in the midst of the company. Though I cannot drink myself, I +am obliged to encourage the circulation of the glass; their mirth grows +more turbulent and obstreperous; and before their merriment is at an +end, I am sick with disgust, and, perhaps, reproached with my sobriety, +or by some sly insinuations insulted as a cit. + +Such, Mr. Adventurer, is the life to which I am condemned by a foolish +endeavour to be happy by imitation; such is the happiness to which I +pleased myself with approaching, and which I considered as the chief end +of my cares and my labours. I toiled year after year with cheerfulness, +in expectation of the happy hour in which I might be idle: the privilege +of idleness is attained, but has not brought with it the blessing of +tranquillity. + +I am yours, &c. +MERCATOR. + + +[1] Johnson was too apt to destroy the _keeping_ of character in his + correspondences. A retired trader might desire a little more + slumber, "a little folding of the hands to sleep;" but the lofty + malignity of a fallen spirit sickening at the beams of day, would + not be among the feelings of an ordinary mind. Some good remarks on + this point may be seen in Miss Talbot's Letters to Mrs. Carter. + + + + +No. 107. TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 13, 1753. + + --_Sub judice lis est._ HOR. De Ar. Poet. 78. + + And of their vain disputings find no end. FRANCIS. + +It has been sometimes asked by those who find the appearance of wisdom +more easily attained by questions than solutions, how it comes to pass, +that the world is divided by such difference of opinion? and why men, +equally reasonable, and equally lovers of truth, do not always think in +the same manner? + +With regard to simple propositions, where the terms are understood, and +the whole subject is comprehended at once, there is such an uniformity +of sentiment among all human beings, that, for many ages, a very +numerous set of notions were supposed to be innate, or necessarily +co-existent with the faculty of reason: it being imagined, that universal +agreement could proceed only from the invariable dictates of the +universal parent. + +In questions diffuse and compounded, this similarity of determination is +no longer to be expected. At our first sally into the intellectual +world, we all march together along one straight and open road; but as we +proceed further, and wider prospects open to our view, every eye fixes +upon a different scene; we divide into various paths, and, as we move +forward, are still at a greater distance from each other. As a question +becomes more complicated and involved, and extends to a greater number +of relations, disagreement of opinion will always be multiplied; not +because we are irrational, but because we are finite beings, furnished +with different kinds of knowledge, exerting different degrees of +attention, one discovering consequences which escape another, none +taking in the whole concatenation of causes and effects, and most +comprehending but a very small part, each comparing what he observes +with a different criterion, and each referring it to a different +purpose. + +Where, then, is the wonder, that they who see only a small part should +judge erroneously of the whole? or that they, who see different and +dissimilar parts, should judge differently from each other? + +Whatever has various respects, must have various appearances of good and +evil, beauty or deformity; thus, the gardener tears up as a weed, the +plant which the physician gathers as a medicine; and "a general," says +Sir Kenelm Digby, "will look with pleasure over a plain, as a fit place +on which the fate of empires might be decided in battle, which the +farmer will despise as bleak and barren, neither fruitful of pasturage, +nor fit for tillage[1]." + +Two men examining the same question proceed commonly like the physician +and gardener in selecting herbs, or the farmer and hero looking on the +plain; they bring minds impressed with different notions, and direct +their inquiries to different ends; they form, therefore, contrary +conclusions, and each wonders at the other's absurdity. + +We have less reason to be surprised or offended when we find others +differ from us in opinion, because we very often differ from ourselves. +How often we alter our minds, we do not always remark; because the +change is sometimes made imperceptibly and gradually, and the last +conviction effaces all memory of the former: yet every man, accustomed +from time to time to take a survey of his own notions, will by a slight +retrospection be able to discover, that his mind has suffered many +revolutions; that the same things have in the several parts of his life +been condemned and approved, pursued and shunned: and that on many +occasions, even when his practice has been steady, his mind has been +wavering, and he has persisted in a scheme of action, rather because he +feared the censure of inconstancy, than because he was always pleased +with his own choice. + +Of the different faces shown by the same objects, as they are viewed on +opposite sides, and of the different inclinations which they must +constantly raise in him that contemplates them, a more striking example +cannot easily be found than two Greek epigrammatists will afford us in +their accounts of human life, which I shall lay before the reader in +English prose. + +Posidippus, a comick poet, utters this complaint: "Through which of the +paths of life is it eligible to pass? In public assemblies are debates +and troublesome affairs: domestick privacies are haunted with anxieties; +in the country is labour; on the sea is terrour: in a foreign land, he +that has money must live in fear, he that wants it must pine in +distress: are you married? you are troubled with suspicions; are you +single? you languish in solitude; children occasion toil, and a +childless life is a state of destitution: the time of youth is a time of +folly, and gray hairs are loaded with infirmity. This choice only, +therefore, can be made, either never to receive being, or immediately to +lose it[2]." + +Such and so gloomy is the prospect, which Posidippus has laid before us. +But we are not to acquiesce too hastily in his determination against the +value of existence: for Metrodorus, a philosopher of Athens, has shown, +that life has pleasures as well as pains; and having exhibited the +present state of man in brighter colours, draws with equal appearance of +reason, a contrary conclusion. + +"You may pass well through any of the paths of life. In publick +assemblies are honours and transactions of wisdom; in domestick privacy +is stillness and quiet: in the country are the beauties of nature; on +the sea is the hope of gain: in a foreign land, he that is rich is +honoured, he that is poor may keep his poverty secret: are you married? +you have a cheerful house; are you single? you are unincumbered; +children are objects of affection, to be without children is to be +without care: the time of youth is the time of vigour, and gray hairs +are made venerable by piety. It will, therefore, never be a wise man's +choice, either not to obtain existence, or to lose it; for every state +of life has its felicity." + +In these epigrams are included most of the questions which have engaged +the speculations of the inquirers after happiness; and though they will +not much assist our determinations, they may, perhaps, equally promote +our quiet, by showing that no absolute determination ever can be formed. + +Whether a publick station or private life be desirable, has always been +debated. We see here both the allurements and discouragements of civil +employments; on one side there is trouble, on the other honour; the +management of affairs is vexatious and difficult, but it is the only +duty in which wisdom can be conspicuously displayed: it must then still +be left to every man to choose either ease or glory; nor can any general +precept be given, since no man can be happy by the prescription of +another. + +Thus, what is said of children by Posidippus, "that they are occasions +of fatigue," and by Metrodorus, "that they are objects of affection," is +equally certain; but whether they will give most pain or pleasure, must +depend on their future conduct and dispositions, on many causes over +which the parent can have little influence: there is, therefore, room +for all the caprices of imagination, and desire must be proportioned to +the hope or fear that shall happen to predominate. + +Such is the uncertainty in which we are always likely to remain with +regard to questions wherein we have most interest, and which every day +affords us fresh opportunity to examine: we may examine, indeed, but we +never can decide, because our faculties are unequal to the subject; we +see a little, and form an opinion; we see more, and change it. + +This inconstancy and unsteadiness, to which we must so often find +ourselves liable, ought certainly to teach us moderation and forbearance +towards those who cannot accommodate themselves to our sentiments: if +they are deceived, we have no right to attribute their mistake to +obstinacy or negligence, because we likewise have been mistaken; we may, +perhaps, again change our own opinion: and what excuse shall we be able +to find for aversion and malignity conceived against him, whom we shall +then find to have committed no fault, and who offended us only by +refusing to follow us into errour? + +It may likewise contribute to soften that resentment which pride +naturally raises against opposition, if we consider, that he who differs +from us, does not always contradict us; he has one view of an object, +and we have another; each describes what he sees with equal fidelity, +and each regulates his steps by his own eyes: one man with Posidippus, +looks on celibacy as a state of gloomy solitude, without a partner in +joy, or a comforter in sorrow; the other considers it, with Metrodorus, +as a state free from incumbrances, in which a man is at liberty to +choose his own gratifications, to remove from place to place in quest of +pleasure, and to think of nothing but merriment and diversion: full of +these notions one hastens to choose a wife, and the other laughs at his +rashness, or pities his ignorance; yet it is possible that each is +right, but that each is right only for himself. + +Life is not the object of science: we see a little, very little; and +what is beyond we only can conjecture. If we inquire of those who have +gone before us, we receive small satisfaction; some have travelled life +without observation, and some willingly mislead us. The only thought, +therefore, on which we can repose with comfort, is that which presents +to us the care of Providence, whose eye takes in the whole of things, +and under whose direction all involuntary errours will terminate in +happiness. + + +[1] Livy has described the Achaean leader, Philopaemen, as actually so + exercising his thoughts whilst he wandered among the rocky passes of + the Morea, xxxv. 28. In the graphic page of the Roman historian, as + in the stanzas of the "Ariosto of the North:" + + "From shingles grey the lances start, + The bracken bush sends forth the dart, + The rushes and the willow wand + Are bristling into axe and brand." + Lady of the Lake, Canto v. 9. + +[2] + "Count o'er the joys thine hours have seen, + Count o'er thy days from anguish free, + And know, whatever thou hast been, + 'Tis something better not to be." + Lord Byron's Euthanasia. + + Compare also the plaintive chorus in the Oedipus at Colonos, 1211. + Among the tragedies of Sophocles this stands forth a mass of + feeling. See Schlegel's remarks upon it in his Dramatic Literature. + + + + +No. 108. SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 17, 1753. + + _Nobis, quum semet occidit brevis lux, + Nox est perpetua una dormienda._ CATULLUS. Lib. v. El. v. + + When once the short-liv'd mortal dies, + A night eternal seals his eyes. ADDISON. + +It may have been observed by every reader, that there are certain +topicks which never are exhausted. Of some images and sentiments the +mind of man may be said to be enamoured; it meets them, however often +they occur, with the same ardour which a lover feels at the sight of his +mistress, and parts from them with the same regret when they can no +longer be enjoyed. + +Of this kind are many descriptions which the poets have transcribed from +each other, and their successors will probably copy to the end of time; +which will continue to engage, or, as the French term it, to flatter the +imagination, as long as human nature shall remain the same. + +When a poet mentions the spring, we know that the zephyrs are about to +whisper, that the groves are to recover their verdure, the linnets to +warble forth their notes of love, and the flocks and herds to frisk over +vales painted with flowers: yet, who is there so insensible of the +beauties of nature, so little delighted with the renovation of the +world, as not to feel his heart bound at the mention of the spring? + +When night overshadows a romantick scene, all is stillness, silence, and +quiet; the poets of the grove cease their melody, the moon towers over +the world in gentle majesty, men forget their labours and their cares, +and every passion and pursuit is for a while suspended. All this we know +already, yet we hear it repeated without weariness; because such is +generally the life of man, that he is pleased to think on the time when +he shall pause from a sense of his condition. + +When a poetical grove invites us to its covert, we know that we shall +find what we have already seen, a limpid brook murmuring over pebbles, a +bank diversified with flowers, a green arch that excludes the sun, and a +natural grot shaded with myrtles; yet who can forbear to enter the +pleasing gloom to enjoy coolness and privacy, and gratify himself once +more by scenes with which nature has formed him to be delighted? + +Many moral sentiments likewise are so adapted to our state, that they +find approbation whenever they solicit it, and are seldom read without +exciting a gentle emotion in the mind: such is the comparison of the +life of man with the duration of a flower, a thought which perhaps every +nation has heard warbled in its own language, from the inspired poets of +the Hebrews to our own times; yet this comparion must always please, +because every heart feels its justness, and every hour confirms it by +example. + +Such, likewise, is the precept that directs us to use the present hour, +and refer nothing to a distant time, which we are uncertain whether we +shall reach: this every moralist may venture to inculcate, because it +will always be approved, and because it is always forgotten. + +This rule is, indeed, every day enforced, by arguments more powerful +than the dissertations of moralists: we see men pleasing themselves with +future happiness, fixing a certain hour for the completion of their +wishes, and perishing, some at a greater and some at a less distance +from the happy time; all complaining of their disappointments, and +lamenting that they had suffered the years which heaven allowed them, to +pass without improvement, and deferred the principal purpose of their +lives to the time when life itself was to forsake them. + +It is not only uncertain, whether, through all the casualties and +dangers which beset the life of man, we shall be able to reach the time +appointed for happiness or wisdom; but it is likely, that whatever now +hinders us from doing that which our reason and conscience declare +necessary to be done, will equally obstruct us in times to come. It is +easy for the imagination, operating on things not yet existing, to +please itself with scenes of unmingled felicity, or plan out courses of +uniform virtue; but good and evil are in real life inseparably united; +habits grow stronger by indulgence; and reason loses her dignity, in +proportion as she has oftener yielded to temptation: "he that cannot +live well to-day," says Martial, "will be less qualified to live well +to-morrow." + +Of the uncertainty of every human good, every human being seems to be +convinced; yet this uncertainty is voluntarily increased by unnecessary +delay, whether we respect external causes, or consider the nature of our +own minds. He that now feels a desire to do right, and wishes to +regulate his life according to his reason, is not sure that, at any +future time assignable, he shall be able to rekindle the same ardour; he +that has now an opportunity offered him of breaking loose from vice and +folly, cannot know, but that he shall hereafter be more entangled, and +struggle for freedom without obtaining it. + +We are so unwilling to believe any thing to our own disadvantage, that +we will always imagine the perspicacity of our judgment and the strength +of our resolution more likely to increase than to grow less by time; +and, therefore, conclude, that the will to pursue laudable purposes, +will be always seconded by the power. + +But, however we may be deceived in calculating the strength of our +faculties, we cannot doubt the uncertainty of that life in which they +must be employed: we see every day the unexpected death of our friends +and our enemies, we see new graves hourly opened for men older and +younger than ourselves, for the cautious and the careless, the dissolute +and the temperate, for men who like us were providing to enjoy or +improve hours now irreversibly cut off: we see all this, and yet, +instead of living, let year glide after year in preparations to live. + +Men are so frequently cut off in the midst of their projections, that +sudden death causes little emotion in them that behold it, unless it be +impressed upon the attention by uncommon circumstances. I, like every +other man, have outlived multitudes, have seen ambition sink in its +triumphs, and beauty perish in its bloom; but have been seldom so much +affected as by the fate of Euryalus, whom I lately lost as I began to +love him. + +Euryalus had for some time flourished in a lucrative profession; but +having suffered his imagination to be fired by an unextinguishable +curiosity, he grew weary of the same dull round of life, resolved to +harass himself no longer with the drudgery of getting money, but to quit +his business and his profit, and enjoy for a few years the pleasures of +travel. His friends heard him proclaim his resolution without suspecting +that he intended to pursue it; but he was constant to his purpose, and +with great expedition closed his accounts and sold his moveables, passed +a few days in bidding farewell to his companions, and with all the +eagerness of romantick chivalry crossed the sea in search of happiness. +Whatever place was renowned in ancient or modern history, whatever +region art or nature had distinguished, he determined to visit: full of +design and hope he lauded on the continent; his friends expected +accounts from him of the new scenes that opened in his progress, but +were informed in a few days, that Euryalus was dead. + +Such was the end of Euryalus. He is entered that state, whence none ever +shall return; and can now only benefit his friends, by remaining to +their memories a permanent and efficacious instance of the blindness of +desire, and the uncertainty of all terrestrial good. But perhaps, every +man has like me lost an Euryalus, has known a friend die with happiness +in his grasp; and yet every man continues to think himself secure of +life, and defers to some future time of leisure what he knows it will be +fatal to have finally omitted. + +It is, indeed, with this as with other frailties inherent in our nature; +the desire of deferring to another time, what cannot be done without +endurance of some pain, or forbearance of some pleasure, will, perhaps, +never be totally overcome or suppressed; there will always be something +that we shall wish to have finished, and be nevertheless unwilling to +begin: but against this unwillingness it is our duty to struggle, and +every conquest over our passions will make way for an easier conquest: +custom is equally forcible to bad and good; nature will always be at +variance with reason, but will rebel more feebly as she is oftener +subdued. + +The common neglect of the present hour is more shameful and criminal, as +no man is betrayed to it by errour, but admits it by negligence. Of the +instability of life, the weakest understanding never thinks wrong, +though the strongest often omits to think justly: reason and experience +are always ready to inform us of our real state; but we refuse to listen +to their suggestions, because we feel our hearts unwilling to obey them: +but, surely, nothing is more unworthy of a reasonable being, than to +shut his eyes, when he sees the road which he is commanded to travel, +that he may deviate with fewer reproaches from himself: nor could any +motive to tenderness, except the consciousness that we have all been +guilty of the same fault, dispose us to pity those who thus consign +themselves to voluntary ruin. + + + + +No. 111. TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 27, 1753. + + --Quae non fecimus ipsi, + Vix ea nostra voco. OVID. + + The deeds of long descended ancestors + Are but by grace of imputation ours. DRYDEN + +The evils inseparably annexed to the present condition of man, are so +numerous and afflictive, that it has been, from age to age, the task of +some to bewail, and of others to solace them; and he, therefore, will be +in danger of seeing a common enemy, who shall attempt to depreciate the +few pleasures and felicities which nature has allowed us. + +Yet I will confess, that I have sometimes employed my thoughts in +examining the pretensions that are made to happiness, by the splendid +and envied condition of life; and have not thought the hour unprofitably +spent, when I have detected the imposture of counterfeit advantages, and +found disquiet lurking under false appearances of gaiety and greatness. + +It is asserted by a tragick poet, that _est miser nemo nisi comparatus_, +"no man is miserable, but as he is compared with others happier than +himself:" this position is not strictly and philosophically true. He +might have said, with rigorous propriety, that no man is happy but as he +is compared with the miserable; for such is the state of this world, +that we find in it absolute misery, but happiness only comparative; we +may incur as much pain as we can possibly endure, though we can never +obtain as much happiness as we might possibly enjoy. + +Yet it is certain, likewise, that many of our miseries are merely +comparative: we are often made unhappy, not by the presence of any real +evil, but by the absence of some fictitious good; of something which is +not required by any real want of nature, which has not in itself any +power of gratification, and which neither reason nor fancy would have +prompted us to wish, did we not see it in the possession of others. + +For a mind diseased with vain longings after unattainable advantages, no +medicine can be prescribed, but an impartial inquiry into the real worth +of that which is so ardently desired. It is well known, how much the +mind, as well as the eye, is deceived by distance; and, perhaps, it will +be found, that of many imagined blessings it may be doubted, whether he +that wants or possesses them has more reason to be satisfied with his +lot. + +The dignity of high birth and long extraction, no man, to whom nature +has denied it, can confer upon himself; and, therefore, it deserves to +be considered, whether the want of that which can never be gained, may +not easily be endured. It is true, that if we consider the triumph and +delight with which most of those recount their ancestors, who have +ancestors to recount, and the artifices by which some who have risen to +unexpected fortune endeavour to insert themselves into an honourable +stem, we shall be inclined to fancy that wisdom or virtue may be had by +inheritance, or that all the excellencies of a line of progenitors are +accumulated on their descendant. Reason, indeed, will soon inform us, +that our estimation of birth is arbitrary and capricious, and that dead +ancestors can have no influence but upon imagination; let it then be +examined, whether one dream may not operate in the place of another; +whether he that owes nothing to forefathers, may not receive equal +pleasure from the consciousness of owing all to himself; whether he may +not, with a little meditation, find it more honourable to found than to +continue a family, and to gain dignity than transmit it; whether, if he +receives no dignity from the virtues of his family, he does not likewise +escape the danger of being disgraced by their crimes; and whether he +that brings a new name into the world, has not the convenience of +playing the game of life without a stake, and opportunity of winning +much though he has nothing to lose. + +There is another opinion concerning happiness, which approaches much +more nearly to universality, but which may, perhaps, with equal reason +be disputed. The pretensions to ancestral honours many of the sons of +earth easily see to be ill-grounded; but all agree to celebrate the +advantage of hereditary riches, and to consider those as the minions of +fortune, who are wealthy from their cradles, whose estate is _res non +parta labore, sed relicta_; "the acquisition of another, not of +themselves;" and whom a father's industry has dispensed from a laborious +attention to arts or commerce, and left at liberty to dispose of life as +fancy shall direct them. + +If every man were wise and virtuous, capable to discern the best use of +time, and resolute to practise it, it might be granted, I think, without +hesitation, that total liberty would be a blessing; and that it would be +desirable to be left at large to the exercise of religious and social +duties, without the interruption of importunate avocations. + +But, since felicity is relative, and that which is the means of +happiness to one man may be to another the cause of misery, we are to +consider, what state is best adapted to human nature in its present +degeneracy and frailty. And, surely, to far the greater number it is +highly expedient, that they should by some settled scheme of duties be +rescued from the tyranny of caprice, that they should be driven on by +necessity through the paths of life with their attention confined to a +stated task, that they may be less at leisure to deviate into mischief +at the call of folly. + +When we observe the lives of those whom an ample inheritance has let +loose to their own direction, what do we discover that can excite our +envy? Their time seems not to pass with much applause from others, or +satisfaction to themselves: many squander their exuberance of fortune in +luxury and debauchery, and have no other use of money than to inflame +their passions, and riot in a wide range of licentiousness; others, less +criminal indeed, but surely not much to be praised, lie down to sleep, +and rise up to trifle, are employed every morning in finding expedients +to rid themselves of the day, chase pleasure through all the places of +publick resort, fly from London to Bath, and from Bath to London, +without any other reason for changing place, but that they go in quest +of company as idle and as vagrant as themselves, always endeavouring to +raise some new desire, that they may have something to pursue, to +rekindle some hope which they know will be disappointed, changing one +amusement for another which a few months will make equally insipid, or +sinking into languor and disease for want of something to actuate their +bodies or exhilarate their minds. + +Whoever has frequented those places, where idlers assemble to escape +from solitude, knows that this is generally the state of the wealthy; +and from this state it is no great hardship to be debarred. No man can +be happy in total idleness: he that should be condemned to lie torpid +and motionless, "would fly for recreation," says South, "to the mines +and the galleys;" and it is well, when nature or fortune find employment +for those, who would not have known how to procure it for themselves. + +He, whose mind is engaged by the acquisition or improvement of a +fortune, not only escapes the insipidity of indifference, and the +tediousness of inactivity, but gains enjoyments wholly unknown to those, +who live lazily on the toil of others; for life affords no higher +pleasure than that of surmounting difficulties, passing from one step of +success to another, forming new wishes, and seeing them gratified. He +that labours in any great or laudable undertaking, has his fatigues +first supported by hope, and afterwards rewarded by joy; he is always +moving to a certain end, and when he has attained it, an end more +distant invites him to a new pursuit. + +It does not, indeed, always happen, that diligence is fortunate; the +wisest schemes are broken by unexpected accidents; the most constant +perseverance sometimes toils through life without a recompense; but +labour, though unsuccessful, is more eligible than idleness; he that +prosecutes a lawful purpose by lawful means, acts always with the +approbation of his own reason; he is animated through the course of his +endeavours by an expectation which, though not certain, he knows to be +just; and is at last comforted in his disappointment, by the +consciousness that he has not failed by his own fault. + +That kind of life is most happy which affords us most opportunities of +gaining our own esteem; and what can any man infer in his own favour +from a condition to which, however prosperous, he contributed nothing, +and which the vilest and weakest of the species would have obtained by +the same right, had he happened to be the son of the same father? + +To strive with difficulties, and to conquer them, is the highest human +felicity; the next is, to strive, and deserve to conquer: but he whose +life has passed without a contest, and who can boast neither success nor +merit, can survey himself only as a useless filler of existence; and if +he is content with his own character, must owe his satisfaction to +insensibility. + +Thus it appears that the satirist advised rightly, when he directed us +to resign ourselves to the hands of Heaven, and to leave to superior +powers the determination of our lot: + + _Permittes ipsis expendere Numinibus, quid + Conveniat nobis, rebusque sit utile nostris:-- + Carior est illis homo quam sibi._ JUV. Sat. x. 347. + + Intrust thy fortune to the Pow'rs above: + Leave them to manage for thee, and to grant + What their unerring wisdom sees the want. + In goodness as in greatness they excel: + Ah! that we lov'd ourselves but half so well. DRYDEN. + +What state of life admits most happiness, is uncertain; but that +uncertainty ought to repress the petulance of comparison, and silence +the murmurs of discontent. + + + + +No. 115. TUESDAY, DECEMBER 11, 1753. + + _Scribimus indocti doctique._ HOR. Lib. ii. Ep. i. 17. + + All dare to write, who can or cannot read. + +They who have attentively considered the history of mankind, know that +every age has its peculiar character. At one time, no desire is felt but +for military honours; every summer affords battles and sieges, and the +world is filled with ravage, bloodshed, and devastation: this sanguinary +fury at length subsides, and nations are divided into factions, by +controversies about points that will never be decided. Men then grow +weary of debate and altercation, and apply themselves to the arts of +profit; trading companies are formed, manufactures improved, and +navigation extended; and nothing is any longer thought on, but the +increase and preservation of property, the artifices of getting money, +and the pleasures of spending it. + +The present age, if we consider chiefly the state of our own country, +may be styled, with great propriety, _The Age of Authors_[1]; for, +perhaps, there never was a time in which men of all degrees of ability, +of every kind of education, of every profession and employment, were +posting with ardour so general to the press. The province of writing was +formerly left to those, who by study, or appearance of study, were +supposed to have gained knowledge unattainable by the busy part of +mankind; but in these enlightened days, every man is qualified to +instruct every other man: and he that beats the anvil, or guides the +plough, not content with supplying corporal necessities, amuses himself +in the hours of leisure with providing intellectual pleasures for his +countrymen. + +It may be observed, that of this, as of other evils, complaints have +been made by every generation: but though it may, perhaps, be true, that +at all times more have been willing than have been able to write, yet +there is no reason for believing, that the dogmatical legions of the +present race were ever equalled in number by any former period: for so +widely is spread the itch of literary praise, that almost every man is +an author, either in act or in purpose: has either bestowed his favours +on the publick, or withholds them, that they may be more seasonably +offered, or made more worthy of acceptance. + +In former times, the pen, like the sword, was considered as consigned by +nature to the hands of men; the ladies contented themselves with private +virtues and domestick excellence; and a female writer, like a female +warrior, was considered as a kind of eccentrick being, that deviated, +however illustriously, from her due sphere of motion, and was, +therefore, rather to be gazed at with wonder, than countenanced by +imitation. But as in the times past are said to have been a nation of +Amazons, who drew the bow and wielded the battle-axe, formed encampments +and wasted nations, the revolution of years has now produced a +generation of Amazons of the pen, who with the spirit of their +predecessors have set masculine tyranny at defiance, asserted their +claim to the regions of science, and seem resolved to contest the +usurpations of virility. + +Some indeed there are, of both sexes, who are authors only in desire, +but have not yet attained the power of executing their intentions; whose +performances have not arrived at bulk sufficient to form a volume, or +who have not the confidence, however impatient of nameless obscurity, to +solicit openly the assistance of the printer. Among these are the +innumerable correspondents of publick papers, who are always offering +assistance which no man will receive, and suggesting hints that are +never taken; and who complain loudly of the perverseness and arrogance +of authors, lament their insensibility of their own interest, and fill +the coffee-houses with dark stories of performances by eminent hands, +which have been offered and rejected. + +To what cause this universal eagerness of writing can be properly +ascribed, I have not yet been able to discover. It is said, that every +art is propagated in proportion to the rewards conferred upon it; a +position from which a stranger would naturally infer, that literature +was now blessed with patronage far transcending the candour or +munificence of the Augustan age, that the road to greatness was open to +none but authors, and that by writing alone riches and honour were to be +obtained. + +But since it is true, that writers, like other competitors, are very +little disposed to favour one another, it is not to be expected, that at +a time when every man writes, any man will patronize; and, accordingly, +there is not one that I can recollect at present, who professes the +least regard for the votaries of science, invites the addresses of +learned men, or seems to hope for reputation from any pen but his own. + +The cause, therefore, of this epidemical conspiracy for the destruction +of paper, must remain a secret: nor can I discover, whether we owe it to +the influences of the constellations, or the intemperature of seasons: +whether the long continuance of the wind at any single point, or +intoxicating vapours exhaled from the earth, have turned our nobles and +our peasants, our soldiers and traders, our men and women, all into +wits, philosophers, and writers. + +It is, indeed, of more importance to search out the cure than the cause +of this intellectual malady; and he would deserve well of this country, +who, instead of amusing himself with conjectural speculations, should +find means of persuading the peer to inspect his steward's accounts, or +repair the rural mansion of his ancestors; who could replace the +tradesman behind his counter, and send back the farmer to the mattock +and the flail. + +General irregularities are known in time to remedy themselves. By the +constitution of ancient Egypt, the priesthood was continually +increasing, till at length there was no people beside themselves; the +establishment was then dissolved, and the number of priests was reduced +and limited. Thus among us, writers will, perhaps, be multiplied, till +no readers will be found, and then the ambition of writing must +necessarily cease. + +But as it will be long before the cure is thus gradually effected, and +the evil should be stopped, if it be possible, before it rises to so +great a height, I could wish that both sexes would fix their thoughts +upon some salutary considerations, which might repress their ardour for +that reputation, which not one of many thousands is fated to obtain. + +Let it be deeply impressed, and frequently recollected, that he who has +not obtained the proper qualifications of an author, can have no excuse +for the arrogance of writing, but the power of imparting to mankind +something necessary to be known. A man uneducated or unlettered may +sometimes start a useful thought, or make a lucky discovery, or obtain +by chance some secret of nature, or some intelligence of facts, of which +the most enlightened mind may be ignorant, and which it is better to +reveal, though by a rude and unskilful communication, than to lose for +ever by suppressing it. + +But few will be justified by this plea; for of the innumerable books and +pamphlets that have overflowed the nation, scarce one has made any +addition to real knowledge, or contained more than a transposition of +common sentiments, and a repetition of common phrases. + +It will be naturally inquired, when the man who feels an inclination to +write, may venture to suppose himself properly qualified; and, since +every man is inclined to think well of his own intellect, by what test +he may try his abilities, without hazarding the contempt or resentment +of the publick. + +The first qualification of a writer is a perfect knowledge of the +subject which he undertakes to treat; since we cannot teach what we do +not know, nor can properly undertake to instruct others while we are +ourselves in want of instruction. The next requisite is, that he be +master of the language in which he delivers his sentiments: if he treats +of science and demonstration, that he has attained a style clear, pure, +nervous, and expressive; if his topicks be probable and persuasory, that +he be able to recommend them by the superaddition of elegance and +imagery, to display the colours of varied diction, and pour forth the +musick of modulated periods. + +If it be again inquired, upon what principles any man shall conclude +that he wants those powers, it may be readily answered, that no end is +attained but by the proper means; he only can rationally presume that he +understands a subject, who has read and compared the writers that have +hitherto discussed it, familiarized their arguments to himself by long +meditation, consulted the foundations of different systems, and +separated truth from errour by a rigorous examination. + +In like manner, he only has a right to suppose that he can express his +thoughts, whatever they are, with perspicuity or elegance, who has +carefully perused the best authors, accurately noted their diversities +of style, diligently selected the best modes of diction, and +familiarized them by long habits of attentive practice. + +No man is a rhetorician or philosopher by chance. He who knows that he +undertakes to write on questions which he has never studied, may without +hesitation determine, that he is about to waste his own time and that of +his reader, and expose himself to the derision of those whom he aspires +to instruct: he that without forming his style by the study of the best +models hastens to obtrude his compositions on the publick, may be +certain, that whatever hope or flattery may suggest, he shall shock the +learned ear with barbarisms, and contribute, wherever his work shall be +received, to the depravation of taste and the corruption of language. + +[1] See Knox. Essay 50. + + + + +No. 119. TUESDAY, DECEMBER 25, 1753. + + _Latius regnes, avidum domando + Spiritum, quam si Libyam remotis + Gadibus jungas, et uterque Poenus + Serviat uni._ Hor. Lib. ii. Ode ii. 9. + + By virtue's precepts to controul + The thirsty cravings of the soul, + Is over wider realms to reign + Unenvied monarch, than if Spain + You could to distant Lybia join, + And both the Carthages were thine. FRANCIS. + +When Socrates was asked, "which of mortal men was to be accounted +nearest to the _gods_ in happiness?" he answered, "that man who is in +want of the fewest things." + +In this answer, Socrates left it to be guessed by his auditors, whether, +by the exemption from want which was to constitute happiness, he meant +amplitude of possessions or contraction of desire. And, indeed, there is +so little difference between them, that Alexander the Great confessed +the inhabitant of a tub the next man to the master of the world; and +left a declaration to future ages, that if he was not Alexander he +should wish to be Diogenes. + +These two states, however, though they resemble each other in their +consequence, differ widely with respect to the facility with which they +may be attained. To make great acquisitions can happen to very few; and +in the uncertainty of human affairs, to many it will be incident to +labour without reward, and to lose what they already possess by +endeavours to make it more: some will always want abilities, and others +opportunities to accumulate wealth. It is therefore happy, that nature +has allowed us a more certain and easy road to plenty; every man may +grow rich by contracting his wishes, and by quiet acquiescence in what +has been given him, supply the absence of more. + +Yet so far is almost every man from emulating the happiness of the gods, +by any other means than grasping at their power, that it seems to be the +great business of life to create wants as fast as they are satisfied. It +has been long observed by moralists, that every man squanders or loses a +great part of that life, of which every man knows and deplores the +shortness: and it may be remarked with equal justness, that though every +man laments his own insufficiency to his happiness, and knows himself a +necessitous and precarious being, incessantly soliciting the assistance +of others, and feeling wants which his own art or strength cannot +supply; yet there is no man, who does not, by the superaddition of +unnatural cares, render himself still more dependent; who does not +create an artificial poverty, and suffer himself to feel pain for the +want of that, of which, when it is gained, he can have no enjoyment. + +It must, indeed, be allowed, that as we lose part of our time because it +steals away silent and invisible, and many an hour is passed before we +recollect that it is passing; so unnatural desires insinuate themselves +unobserved into the mind, and we do not perceive that they are gaining +upon us, till the pain which they give us awakens us to notice. No man +is sufficiently vigilant to take account of every minute of his life, or +to watch every motion of his heart. Much of our time likewise is +sacrificed to custom; we trifle, because we see others trifle; in the +same manner we catch from example the contagion of desire; we see all +about us busied in pursuit of imaginary good, and begin to bustle in the +same chase, lest greater activity should triumph over us. + +It is true, that to man as a member of society, many things become +necessary, which, perhaps, in a state of nature are superfluous; and +that many things, not absolutely necessary, are yet so useful and +convenient, that they cannot easily be spared. I will make yet a more +ample and liberal concession. In opulent states, and regular +governments, the temptations to wealth and rank, and to the distinctions +that follow them, are such as no force of understanding finds it easy to +resist. + +If, therefore, I saw the quiet of life disturbed only by endeavours +after wealth and honour; by solicitude, which the world, whether justly +or not, considered as important; I should scarcely have had courage to +inculcate any precepts of moderation and forbearance. He that is engaged +in a pursuit, in which all mankind profess to be his rivals, is +supported by the authority of all mankind in the prosecution of his +design, and will, therefore, scarcely stop to hear the lectures of a +solitary philosopher. Nor am I certain, that the accumulation of honest +gain ought to be hindered, or the ambition of just honours always to be +repressed. Whatever can enable the possessor to confer any benefit upon +others, may be desired upon virtuous principles; and we ought not too +rashly to accuse any man of intending to confine the influence of his +acquisitions to himself. + +But if we look round upon mankind, whom shall we find among those that +fortune permits to form their own manners, that is not tormenting +himself with a wish for something, of which all the pleasure and all the +benefit will cease at the moment of attainment? One man is beggaring his +posterity to build a house, which when finished he never will inhabit; +another is levelling mountains to open a prospect, which, when he has +once enjoyed it, he can enjoy it no more; another is painting ceilings, +carving wainscot, and filling his apartments with costly furniture, only +that some neighbouring house may not be richer or finer than his own. + +That splendour and elegance are not desirable, I am not so abstracted +from life to inculcate; but if we inquire closely into the reason for +which they are esteemed, we shall find them valued principally as +evidences of wealth. Nothing, therefore, can show greater depravity of +understanding, than to delight in the show when the reality is wanting; +or voluntarily to become poor, that strangers may for a time imagine us +to be rich. + +But there are yet minuter objects and more trifling anxieties. Men may +be found, who are kept from sleep by the want of a shell particularly +variegated! who are wasting their lives, in stratagems to obtain a book +in a language which they do not understand; who pine with envy at the +flowers of another man's parterre; who hover like vultures round the +owner of a fossil, in hopes to plunder his cabinet at his death; and who +would not much regret to see a street in flames, if a box of medals +might be scattered in the tumult. + +He that imagines me to speak of these sages in terms exaggerated and +hyperbolical, has conversed but little with the race of virtuosos. A +slight acquaintance with their studies, and a few visits to their +assemblies, would inform him, that nothing is so worthless, but that +prejudice and caprice can give it value; nor any thing of so little use, +but that by indulging an idle competition or unreasonable pride, a man +may make it to himself one of the necessaries of life. + +Desires like these, I may surely, without incurring the censure of +moroseness, advise every man to repel when they invade his mind; or if +he admits them, never to allow them any greater influence than is +necessary to give petty employments the power of pleasing, and diversify +the day with slight amusements. + +An ardent wish, whatever be its object, will always be able to interrupt +tranquillity. What we believe ourselves to want, torments us not in +proportion to its real value, but according to the estimation by which +we have rated it in our own minds; in some diseases, the patient has +been observed to long for food, which scarce any extremity of hunger +would in health have compelled him to swallow; but while his organs were +thus depraved, the craving was irresistible, nor could any rest be +obtained till it was appeased by compliance. Of the same nature are the +irregular appetites of the mind; though they are often excited by +trifles, they are equally disquieting with real wants: the Roman, who +wept at the death of his lamprey, felt the same degree of sorrow that +extorts tears on other occasions. + +Inordinate desires, of whatever kind, ought to be repressed upon yet a +higher consideration; they must be considered as enemies not only to +happiness but to virtue. There are men, among those commonly reckoned +the learned and the wise, who spare no stratagems to remove a competitor +at an auction, who will sink the price of a rarity at the expense of +truth, and whom it is not safe to trust alone in a library or cabinet. +These are faults, which the fraternity seem to look upon as jocular +mischiefs, or to think excused by the violence of the temptation: but I +shall always fear that he, who accustoms himself to fraud in little +things, wants only opportunity to practise it in greater; "he that has +hardened himself by killing a sheep," says Pythagoras, "will with less +reluctance shed the blood of a man." + +To prize every thing according to its _real_ use ought to be the aim of +a rational being. There are few things which can much conduce to +happiness, and, therefore, few things to be ardently desired. He that +looks upon the business and bustle of the world, with the philosophy +with which Socrates surveyed the fair at Athens, will turn away at last +with his exclamation, "How many things are here which I do not want!" + + + + +No. 120. SATURDAY, DECEMBER 29, 1753. + +_--Ultima semper + Expectanda dies homini: dicique beatus + Ante obitum nemo supremaque funera debet._ OVID. Met. Lib. iii. 135. + + But no frail man, however great or high, + Can be concluded blest before he die. ADDISON. + +The numerous miseries of human life have extorted in all ages an +universal complaint. The wisest of men terminated all his experiments in +search of happiness, by the mournful confession, that "all is vanity;" +and the ancient patriarchs lamented, that "the days of their pilgrimage +were few and evil." + +There is, indeed, no topick on which it is more superfluous to +accumulate authorities, nor any assertion of which our own eyes will +more easily discover, or our sensations more frequently impress the +truth, than, that misery is the lot of man, that our present state is a +state of danger and infelicity. + +When we take the most distant prospect of life, what does it present us +but a chaos of unhappiness, a confused and tumultuous scene of labour +and contest, disappointment and defeat? If we view past ages in the +reflection of history, what do they offer to our meditation but crimes +and calamities? One year is distinguished by a famine, another by an +earthquake; kingdoms are made desolate, sometimes by wars, and sometimes +by pestilence; the peace of the world is interrupted at one time by the +caprices of a tyrant, at another by the rage of the conqueror. The +memory is stored only with vicissitudes of evil; and the happiness, such +as it is, of one part of mankind, is found to arise commonly from +sanguinary success, from victories which confer upon them the power, not +so much of improving life by any new enjoyment, as of inflicting misery +on others, and gratifying their own pride by comparative greatness. + +But by him that examines life with a more close attention, the happiness +of the world will be found still less than it appears. In some intervals +of publick prosperity, or to use terms more proper, in some +intermissions of calamity, a general diffusion of happiness may seem to +overspread a people; all is triumph and exultation, jollity and plenty; +there are no publick fears and dangers, and "no complainings in the +streets." But the condition of individuals is very little mended by this +general calm: pain and malice and discontent still continue their +havock; the silent depredation goes incessantly forward; and the grave +continues to be filled by the victims of sorrow. + +He that enters a gay assembly, beholds the cheerfulness displayed in +every countenance, and finds all sitting vacant and disengaged, with no +other attention than to give or to receive pleasure, would naturally +imagine, that he had reached at last the metropolis of felicity, the +place sacred to gladness of heart, from whence all fear and anxiety were +irreversibly excluded. Such, indeed, we may often find to be the opinion +of those, who from a lower station look up to the pomp and gaiety which +they cannot reach: but who is there of those who frequent these +luxurious assemblies, that will not confess his own uneasiness, or +cannot recount the vexations and distresses that prey upon the lives of +his gay companions? + +The world, in its best state, is nothing more than a larger assembly of +beings, combining to counterfeit happiness which they do not feel, +employing every art and contrivance to embellish life, and to hide their +real condition from the eyes of one another. + +The species of happiness most obvious to the observation of others, is +that which depends upon the goods of fortune; yet even this is often +fictitious. There is in the world more poverty than is generally +imagined; not only because many whose possessions are large have desires +still larger, and many measure their wants by the gratifications which +others enjoy; but great numbers are pressed by real necessities which it +is their chief ambition to conceal, and are forced to purchase the +appearance of competence and cheerfulness at the expense of many +comforts and conveniencies of life. + +Many, however, are confessedly rich, and many more are sufficiently +removed from all danger of real poverty: but it has been long ago +remarked, that money cannot purchase quiet; the highest of mankind can +promise themselves no exemption from that discord or suspicion, by which +the sweetness of domestick retirement is destroyed; and must always be +even more exposed, in the same degree as they are elevated above others, +to the treachery of dependants, the calumny of defamers and the violence +of opponents. + +Affliction is inseparable from our present state: it adheres to all the +inhabitants of this world, in different proportions indeed, but with an +allotment which seems very little regulated by our own conduct. It has +been the boast of some swelling moralists, that every man's fortune was +in his own power, that prudence supplied the place of all other +divinities, and that happiness is the unfailing consequence of virtue. +But, surely, the quiver of Omnipotence is stored with arrows, against +which the shield of human virtue, however adamantine it has been +boasted, is held up in vain: we do not always suffer by our crimes; we +are not always protected by our innocence. + +A good man is by no means exempt from the danger of suffering by the +crimes of others; even his goodness may raise him enemies of implacable +malice and restless perseverance: the good man has never been warranted +by Heaven from the treachery of friends, the disobedience of children or +the dishonesty of a wife; he may see his cares made useless by +profusion, his instructions defeated by perverseness, and his kindness +rejected by ingratitude; he may languish under the infamy of false +accusations, or perish reproachfully by an unjust sentence. + +A good man is subject, like other mortals, to all the influences of +natural evil; his harvest is not spared by the tempest, nor his cattle +by the murrain; his house flames like others in a conflagration; nor +have his ships any peculiar power of resisting hurricanes: his mind, +however elevated, inhabits a body subject to innumerable casualties, of +which he must always share the dangers and the pains; he bears about him +the seeds of disease, and may linger away a great part of his life under +the tortures of the gout or stone; at one time groaning with +insufferable anguish, at another dissolved in listlessness and languor. + +From this general and indiscriminate distribution of misery, the +moralists have always derived one of their strongest moral arguments for +a future state; for since the common events of the present life happen +alike to the good and bad, it follows from the justice of the Supreme +Being, that there must be another state of existence, in which a just +retribution shall be made, and every man shall be happy and miserable +according to his works. + +The miseries of life may, perhaps, afford some proof of a future state, +compared as well with the mercy as the justice of God. It is scarcely to +be imagined that Infinite Benevolence would create a being capable of +enjoying so much more than is here to be enjoyed, and qualified by +nature to prolong pain by remembrance, and anticipate it by terrour, if +he was not designed for something nobler and better than a state, in +which many of his faculties can serve only for his torment; in which he +is to be importuned by desires that never can be satisfied, to feel many +evils which he had no power to avoid, and to fear many which he shall +never feel: there will surely come a time, when every capacity of +happiness shall be filled, and none shall be wretched but by his own +fault. + +In the mean time, it is by affliction chiefly that the heart of man is +purified, and that the thoughts are fixed upon a better state. +Prosperity, allayed and imperfect as it is, has power to intoxicate the +imagination, to fix the mind upon the present scene, to produce +confidence and elation, and to make him who enjoys affluence and honours +forget the hand by which they were bestowed. It is seldom that we are +otherwise, than by affliction, awakened to a sense of our own +imbecility, or taught to know how little all our acquisitions can +conduce to safety or to quiet; and how justly we may ascribe to the +superintendence of a higher Power, those blessings which in the +wantonness of success we considered as the attainments of our policy or +courage. + +Nothing confers so much ability to resist the temptations that +perpetually surround us, as an habitual consideration of the shortness +of life, and the uncertainty of those pleasures that solicit our +pursuit; and this consideration can be inculcated only by affliction. "O +Death! how bitter is the remembrance of thee, to a man that lives at +ease in his possessions!" If our present state were one continued +succession of delights, or one uniform flow of calmness and +tranquillity, we should never willingly think upon its end; death would +then surely surprise us as "a thief in the night;" and our task of duty +would remain unfinished, till "the night came when no man can work." + +While affliction thus prepares us for felicity, we may console ourselves +under its pressures, by remembering, that they are no particular marks +of divine displeasure; since all the distresses of persecution have been +suffered by those, "of whom the world was not worthy;" and the Redeemer +of mankind himself was "a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief!" + + + + +No. 126. SATURDAY, JANUARY 19, 1754. + + --_Steriles nec legit arenas + Ut caner et paucis, mersitque hoc pulvere verum._ LUCAN. + + Canst thou believe the vast eternal Mind Was e'er to Syrts and +Lybian sands confin'd? That he would choose this waste, this barren +ground, To teach the thin inhabitants around, And leave his truth in +wilds and deserts drown'd? + + There has always prevailed among that part of mankind that addict their +minds to speculation, a propensity to talk much of the delights of +retirement: and some of the most pleasing compositions produced in every +age contain descriptions of the peace and happiness of a country life. + +I know not whether those who thus ambitiously repeat the praises of +solitude, have always considered, how much they depreciate mankind by +declaring, that whatever is excellent or desirable is to be obtained by +departing from them; that the assistance which we may derive from one +another, is not equivalent to the evils which we have to fear; that the +kindness of a few is overbalanced by the malice of many; and that the +protection of society is too dearly purchased by encountering its +dangers and enduring its oppressions. + +These specious representations of solitary happiness, however +opprobrious to human nature, have so far spread their influence over the +world, that almost every man delights his imagination with the hopes of +obtaining some time an opportunity of retreat. Many, indeed, who enjoy +retreat only in imagination, content themselves with believing, that +another year will transport them to rural tranquillity, and die while +they talk of doing what, if they had lived longer, they would never have +done. But many likewise there are, either of greater resolution or more +credulity, who in earnest try the state which they have been taught to +think thus secure from cares and dangers; and retire to privacy, either +that they may improve their happiness, increase their knowledge, or +exalt their virtue. + +The greater part of the admirers of solitude, as of all other classes of +mankind, have no higher or remoter view, than the present gratification +of their passions. Of these, some, haughty and impetuous, fly from +society only because they cannot bear to repay to others the regard +which themselves exact; and think no state of life eligible, but that +which places them out of the reach of censure or control, and affords +them opportunities of living in a perpetual compliance with their own +inclinations, without the necessity of regulating their actions by any +other man's convenience or opinion. + +There are others, of minds more delicate and tender, easily offended by +every deviation from rectitude, soon disgusted by ignorance or +impertinence, and always expecting from the conversation of mankind more +elegance, purity and truth, than the mingled mass of life will easily +afford. Such men are in haste to retire from grossness, falsehood and +brutality; and hope to find in private habitations at least a negative +felicity, an exemption from the shocks and perturbations with which +publick scenes are continually distressing them. + +To neither of these votaries will solitude afford that content, which +she has been taught so lavishly to promise. The man of arrogance will +quickly discover, that by escaping from his opponents he has lost his +flatterers, that greatness is nothing where it is not seen, and power +nothing where it cannot be felt: and he, whose faculties are employed in +too close an observation of failings and defects, will find his +condition very little mended by transferring his attention from others +to himself: he will probably soon come back in quest of new objects, and +be glad to keep his captiousness employed on any character rather than +his own. + +Others are seduced into solitude merely by the authority of great names, +and expect to find those charms in tranquillity which have allured +statesmen and conquerors to the shades: these likewise are apt to wonder +at their disappointment, for want of considering, that those whom they +aspire to imitate carried with them to their country-seats minds full +fraught with subjects of reflection, the consciousness of great merit, +the memory of illustrious actions, the knowledge of important events, +and the seeds of mighty designs to be ripened by future meditation. +Solitude was to such men a release from fatigue, and an opportunity of +usefulness. But what can retirement confer upon him, who having done +nothing can receive no support from his own importance, who having known +nothing can find no entertainment in reviewing the past, and who +intending nothing can form no hopes from prospects of the future? He +can, surely, take no wiser course than that of losing himself again in +the crowd, and filling the vacuities of his mind with the news of the +day. + +Others consider solitude as the parent of philosophy, and retire in +expectation of greater intimacies with science, as Numa repaired to the +groves when he conferred with Egeria. These men have not always reason +to repent. Some studies require a continued prosecution of the same +train of thought, such as is too often interrupted by the petty +avocations of common life: sometimes, likewise, it is necessary, that a +multiplicity of objects be at once present to the mind; and every thing, +therefore, must be kept at a distance, which may perplex the memory or +dissipate the attention. + +But though learning may be conferred by solitude, its application must +be attained by general converse. He has learned to no purpose, that is +not able to teach; and he will always teach unsuccessfully, who cannot +recommend his sentiments by his diction or address. + +Even the acquisition of knowledge is often much facilitated by the +advantages of society: he that never compares his notions with those of +others, readily acquiesces in his first thoughts, and very seldom +discovers the objections which may be raised against his opinions; he, +therefore, often thinks himself in possession of truth, when he is only +fondling an errour long since exploded. He that has neither companions +nor rivals in his studies, will always applaud his own progress, and +think highly of his performances, because he knows not that others have +equalled or excelled him. And I am afraid it may be added, that the +student who withdraws himself from the world, will soon feel that ardour +extinguished which praise or emulation had enkindled, and take the +advantage of secrecy to sleep, rather than to labour. + +There remains yet another set of recluses, whose intention entitles them +to higher respect, and whose motives deserve a more serious +consideration. These retire from the world, not merely to bask in ease +or gratify curiosity, but that, being disengaged from common cares, they +may employ more time in the duties of religion; that they may regulate +their actions with stricter vigilance, and purify their thoughts by more +frequent meditation. + +To men thus elevated above the mists of mortality, I am far from +presuming myself qualified to give directions. On him that appears to +"pass through things temporal," with no other care than not to "finally +lose the things eternal," I look with such veneration as inclines me to +approve his conduct in the whole, without a minute examination of its +parts; yet I could never forbear to wish, that while vice is every day +multiplying seducements, and stalking forth with more hardened +effrontery, virtue would not withdraw the influence of her presence, or +forbear to assert her natural dignity by open and undaunted perseverance +in the right. Piety practised in solitude, like the flower that blooms +in the desert, may give its fragrance to the winds of Heaven, and +delight those unbodied spirits that survey the works of God and the +actions of men; but it bestows no assistance upon earthly beings, and +however free from taints of impurity, yet wants the sacred splendour of +beneficence. + +Our Maker, who, though he gave us such varieties of temper and such +difference of powers, yet designed us all for happiness, undoubtedly +intended that we should obtain that happiness by different means. Some +are unable to resist the temptations of importunity, or the impetuosity +of their own passions incited by the force of present temptations: of +these it is undoubtedly the duty to fly from enemies which they cannot +conquer, and cultivate, in the calm of solitude, that virtue which is +too tender to endure the tempests of publick life. But there are others, +whose passions grow more strong and irregular in privacy; and who cannot +maintain an uniform tenour of virtue, but by exposing their manners to +the publick eye, and assisting the admonitions of conscience with the +fear of infamy: for such it is dangerous to exclude all witnesses of +their conduct, till they have formed strong habits of virtue, and +weakened their passions by frequent victories. But there is a higher +order of men so inspired with ardour, and so fortified with resolution, +that the world passes before them without influence or regard: these +ought to consider themselves as appointed the guardians of mankind: they +are placed in an evil world, to exhibit publick examples of good life; +and may be said, when they withdraw to solitude, to desert the station +which Providence assigned them. + + + + +No. 128. SATURDAY, JANUARY 26, 1754. + + _Ille sinistrorsum, hic dextrorsum abit; unus utrique + Error, sed variis illudit partibus._--HOR. Lib. ii. Sat. iii. 50. + + When in a wood we leave the certain way, + One error fools us, though we various stray, + Some to the left, and some to t'other side. FRANCIS. + +It is common among all the classes of mankind, to charge each other with +trifling away life: every man looks on the occupation or amusement of +his neighbour, as something below the dignity of our nature, and +unworthy of the attention of a rational being. + +A man who considers the paucity of the wants of nature, and who, being +acquainted with the various means by which all manual occupations are +now facilitated, observes what numbers are supported by the labour of a +few, would, indeed, be inclined to wonder, how the multitudes who are +exempted from the necessity of working, either for themselves or others, +find business to fill up the vacuities of life. The greater part of +mankind neither card the fleece, dig the mine, fell the wood, nor gather +in the harvest; they neither tend herds nor build houses; in what then +are they employed? + +This is certainly a question, which a distant prospect of the world will +not enable us to answer. We find all ranks and ages mingled together in +a tumultuous confusion, with haste in their motions, and eagerness in +their looks; but what they have to pursue or avoid, a more minute +observation must inform them. + +When we analyze the crowd into individuals, it soon appears that the +passions and imaginations of men will not easily suffer them to be idle: +we see things coveted merely because they are rare, and pursued because +they are fugitive; we see men conspire to fix an arbitrary value on that +which is worthless in itself, and then contend for the possession. One +is a collector of fossils, of which he knows no other use than to show +them; and when he has stocked his own repository, grieves that the +stones which he has left behind him should be picked up by another. The +florist nurses a tulip, and repines that his rival's beds enjoy the same +showers and sunshine with his own. This man is hurrying to a concert, +only lest others should have heard the new musician before him; another +bursts from his company to the play, because he fancies himself the +patron of an actress; some spend the morning in consultations with their +tailor, and some in directions to their cook; some are forming parties +for cards, and some laying wagers at a horse-race. + +It cannot, I think, be denied, that some of these lives are passed in +trifles, in occupations by which the busy neither benefit themselves nor +others, and by which no man could be long engaged, who seriously +considered what he was doing, or had knowledge enough to compare what he +is, with what he might be made. However, as people who have the same +inclination generally flock together, every trifler is kept in +countenance by the sight of others as unprofitably active as himself; by +kindling the heat of competition, he in time thinks himself important, +and by having his mind intensely engaged, he is secured from weariness +of himself. + +Some degree of self-approbation is always the reward of diligence; and I +cannot, therefore, but consider the laborious cultivation of petty +pleasures, as a more happy and more virtuous disposition, than that +universal contempt and haughty negligence, which is sometimes associated +with powerful faculties, but is often assumed by indolence when it +disowns its name, and aspires to the appellation of greatness of mind. + +It has been long observed, that drollery and ridicule is the most easy +kind of wit: let it be added that contempt and arrogance is the easiest +philosophy. To find some objection to every thing, and to dissolve in +perpetual laziness under pretence that occasions are wanting to call +forth activity, to laugh at those who are ridiculously busy without +setting an example of more rational industry, is no less in the power of +the meanest than of the highest intellects. + +Our present state has placed us at once in such different relations, +that every human employment, which is not a visible and immediate act of +goodness, will be in some respect or other subject to contempt; but it +is true, likewise, that almost every act, which is not directly vicious, +is in some respect beneficial and laudable. "I often," says Bruyere, +"observe from my window, two beings of erect form and amiable +countenance, endowed with the powers of reason, able to clothe their +thoughts in language, and convey their notions to each other. They rise +early in the morning, and are every day employed till sunset in rubbing +two smooth stones together, or, in other terms, in polishing marble." + +"If lions could paint," says the fable, "in the room of those pictures +which exhibit men vanquishing lions, we should see lions feeding upon +men." If the stone-cutter could have written like Bruyere, what would he +have replied? + +"I look up," says he, "every day from my shop, upon a man whom the +idlers, who stand still to gaze upon my work, often celebrate as a wit +and a philosopher. I often perceive his face clouded with care, and am +told that his taper is sometimes burning at midnight. The sight of a man +who works so much harder than myself, excited my curiosity. I heard no +sound of tools in his apartment, and, therefore, could not imagine what +he was doing; but was told at last, that he was writing descriptions of +mankind, who when he had described them would live just as they had +lived before; that he sat up whole nights to change a sentence, because +the sound of a letter was too often repeated: that he was often +disquieted with doubts, about the propriety of a word which every body +understood; that he would hesitate between two expressions equally +proper, till he could not fix his choice but by consulting his friends; +that he will run from one end of Paris to the other, for an opportunity +of reading a period to a nice ear; that if a single line is heard with +coldness and inattention, he returns home dejected and disconsolate; and +that by all this care and labour, he hopes only to make a little book, +which at last will teach no useful art, and which none who has it not +will perceive himself to want. I have often wondered for what end such a +being as this was sent into the world; and should be glad to see those +who live thus foolishly, seized by an order of the government, and +obliged to labour at some useful occupation." + +Thus, by a partial and imperfect representation, may every thing be made +equally ridiculous. He that gazed with contempt on human beings rubbing +stones together, might have prolonged the same amusement by walking +through the city, and seeing others with looks of importance heaping one +brick upon another; or by rambling into the country, where he might +observe other creatures of the same kind driving a piece of sharp iron +into the clay, or, in the language of men less enlightened, ploughing +the field. + +As it is thus easy by a detail of minute circumstances to make every +thing little, so it is not difficult by an aggregation of effects to +make every thing great. The polisher of marble may be forming ornaments +for the palaces of virtue, and the schools of science; or providing +tables on which the actions of heroes and the discoveries of sages shall +be recorded, for the incitement and instruction of generations. The +mason is exercising one of the principal arts by which reasoning beings +are distinguished from the brute, the art to which life owes much of its +safety and all its convenience, by which we are secured from the +inclemency of the seasons, and fortified against the ravages of +hostility; and the ploughman is changing the face of nature, diffusing +plenty and happiness over kingdoms, and compelling the earth to give +food to her inhabitants. + +Greatness and littleness are terms merely comparative; and we err in our +estimation of things, because we measure them by some wrong standard. +The trifler proposes to himself only to equal or excel some other +trifler, and is happy or miserable as he succeeds or miscarries: the man +of sedentary desire and unactive ambition sits comparing his power with +his wishes; and makes his inability to perform things impossible, an +excuse to himself for performing nothing. Man can only form a just +estimate of his own actions, by making his power the test of his +performance, by comparing what he does with what he can do. Whoever +steadily perseveres in the exertion of all his faculties, does what is +great with respect to himself; and what will not be despised by Him, who +has given to all created beings their different abilities: he faithfully +performs the task of life, within whatever limits his labours may be +confined, or how soon soever they may be forgotten. + +We can conceive so much more than we can accomplish, that whoever tries +his own actions by his imagination, may appear despicable in his own +eyes. He that despises for its littleness any thing really useful, has +no pretensions to applaud the grandeur of his conceptions; since nothing +but narrowness of mind hinders him from seeing, that by pursuing the +same principles every thing limited will appear contemptible. + +He that neglects the care of his family, while his benevolence expands +itself in scheming the happiness of imaginary kingdoms, might with equal +reason sit on a throne dreaming of universal empire, and of the +diffusion of blessings over all the globe: yet even this globe is +little, compared with the system of matter within our view! and that +system barely something more than nonentity, compared with the boundless +regions of space, to which neither eye nor imagination can extend. + +From conceptions, therefore, of what we might have been, and from wishes +to be what we are not, conceptions that we know to be foolish, and +wishes which we feel to be vain, we must necessarily descend to the +consideration of what we are. We have powers very scanty in their utmost +extent, but which in different men are differently proportioned. +Suitably to these powers we have duties prescribed, which we must +neither decline for the sake of delighting ourselves with easier +amusements, nor overlook in idle contemplation of greater excellence or +more extensive comprehension. + +In order to the right conduct of our lives, we must remember, that we +are not born to please ourselves. He that studies simply his own +satisfaction, will always find the proper business of his station too +hard or too easy for him. But if we bear continually in mind our +relation to the Father of Being, by whom we are placed in the world, and +who has allotted us the part which we are to bear in the general system +of life, we shall be easily persuaded to resign our own inclinations to +Unerring Wisdom, and do the work decreed for us with cheerfulness and +diligence. + + + + +No. 131. TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 5, 1754. + + --_Misce + Ergo aliquid nostris de moribus_. JUV. Sat. iv. 322. + + And mingle something of our times to please. DRYDEN, Jun. + +Fontanelle, in his panegyrick on Sir Isaac Newton, closes a long +enumeration of that great philosopher's virtues and attainments, with an +observation, that "he was not distinguished from other men, by any +singularity either natural or affected." + +It is an eminent instance of Newton's superiority to the rest of +mankind, that he was able to separate knowledge from those weaknesses by +which knowledge is generally disgraced; that he was able to excel in +science and wisdom without purchasing them by the neglect of little +things; and that he stood alone, merely because he had left the rest of +mankind behind him, not because he deviated from the beaten track. + +Whoever, after the example of Plutarch, should compare the lives of +illustrious men, might set this part of Newton's character to view with +great advantage, by opposing it to that of Bacon, perhaps the only man, +of later ages, who has any pretensions to dispute with him the palm of +genius or science. + +Bacon, after he had added to a long and careful contemplation of almost +every other object of knowledge a curious inspection into common life, +and after having surveyed nature as a philosopher, had examined "men's +business and bosoms" as a statesman; yet failed so much in the conduct +of domestick affairs, that, in the most lucrative post to which a great +and wealthy kingdom could advance him, he felt all the miseries of +distressful poverty, and committed all the crimes to which poverty +incites. Such were at once his negligence and rapacity, that, as it is +said, he would gain by unworthy practices that money, which, when so +acquired, his servants might steal from one end of the table, while he +sat studious and abstracted at the other. + +As scarcely any man has reached the excellence, very few have sunk to +the weakness of Bacon: but almost all the studious tribe, as they obtain +any participation of his knowledge, feel likewise some contagion of his +defects; and obstruct the veneration which learning would procure, by +follies greater or less, to which only learning could betray them. + +It has been formerly remarked by _The Guardian_, that the world punishes +with too great severity the errours of those, who imagine that the +ignorance of little things may be compensated by the knowledge of great; +for so it is, that as more can detect petty failings than can +distinguish or esteem great qualifications, and as mankind is in general +more easily disposed to censure than to admiration, contempt is often +incurred by slight mistakes, which real virtue or usefulness cannot +counterbalance. + +Yet such mistakes and inadvertencies it is not easy for a man deeply +immersed in study to avoid; no man can become qualified for the common +intercourses of life, by private meditation: the manners of the world +are not a regular system, planned by philosophers upon settled +principles, in which every cause has a congruous effect, and one part +has a just reference to another. Of the fashions prevalent in every +country, a few have arisen, perhaps, from particular temperatures of the +climate; a few more from the constitution of the government; but the +greater part have grown up by chance; been started by caprice, been +contrived by affectation, or borrowed without any just motives of choice +from other countries. + +Of all these, the savage that hunts his prey upon the mountains, and the +sage that speculates in his closet, must necessarily live in equal +ignorance: yet by the observation of those trifles it is, that the ranks +of mankind are kept in order, that the address of one to another is +regulated, and the general business of the world carried on with +facility and method. + +These things, therefore, though small in themselves, become great by +their frequency: and he very much mistakes his own interest, who to the +unavoidable unskilfulness of abstraction and retirement, adds a +voluntary neglect of common forms, and increases the disadvantages of a +studious course of life by an arrogant contempt of those practices, by +which others endeavour to gain favour and multiply friendships. + +A real and interior disdain of fashion and ceremony, is indeed, not very +often to be found: much the greater part of those who pretend to laugh +at foppery and formality, secretly wish to have possessed those +qualifications which they pretend to despise; and because they find it +difficult to wash away the tincture which they have so deeply imbibed, +endeavour to harden themselves in a sullen approbation of their own +colour. Neutrality is a state, into which the busy passions of man +cannot easily subside; and he who is in danger of the pangs of envy, is +generally forced to recreate his imagination with an effort of comfort. + +Some, however, may be found, who, supported by the consciousness of +great abilities, and elevated by a long course of reputation and +applause, voluntarily consign themselves to singularity, affect to cross +the roads of life because they know that they shall not be jostled, and +indulge a boundless gratification of will because they perceive that +they shall be quietly obeyed. Men of this kind are generally known by +the name of Humourists, an appellation by which he that has obtained it, +and can be contented to keep it, is set free at once from the shackles +of fashion: and can go in or out, sit or stand, be talkative or silent, +gloomy or merry, advance absurdities or oppose demonstration, without +any other reprehension from mankind, than that it is his way, that he is +an odd fellow, and must be let alone. + +This seems to many an easy passport through the various factions of +mankind; and those on whom it is bestowed, appear too frequently to +consider the patience with which their caprices are suffered as an +undoubted evidence of their own importance, of a genius to which +submission is universally paid, and whose irregularities are only +considered as consequences of its vigour. These peculiarities, however, +are always found to spot a character, though they may not totally +obscure it; and he who expects from mankind, that they should give up +established customs in compliance with his single will, and exacts that +deference which he does not pay, may be endured, but can never be +approved. + +Singularity is, I think, in its own nature universally and invariably +displeasing. In whatever respect a man differs from others, he must be +considered by them as either worse or better: by being better, it is +well known that a man gains admiration oftener than love, since all +approbation of his practice must necessarily condemn him that gives it; +and though a man often pleases by inferiority, there are few who desire +to give such pleasure. Yet the truth is, that singularity is almost +always regarded as a brand of slight reproach; and where it is +associated with acknowledged merit, serves as an abatement or an allay +of excellence, by which weak eyes are reconciled to its lustre, and by +which, though kindness is not gained, at least envy is averted. + +But let no man be in haste to conclude his own merit so great or +conspicuous, as to require or justify singularity: it is as hazardous +for a moderate understanding to usurp the prerogatives of genius, as for +a common form to play over the airs of uncontested beauty. The pride of +men will not patiently endure to see one, whose understanding or +attainments are but level with their own, break the rules by which they +have consented to be bound, or forsake the direction which they +submissively follow. All violation of established practice implies in +its own nature a rejection of the common opinion, a defiance of common +censure, and an appeal from general laws to private judgment: he, +therefore, who differs from others without apparent advantage, ought not +to be angry if his arrogance is punished with ridicule; if those whose +example he superciliously overlooks, point him out to derision, and hoot +him back again into the common road. + +The pride of singularity is often exerted in little things, where right +and wrong are indeterminable, and where, therefore, vanity is without +excuse. But there are occasions on which it is noble to dare to stand +alone. To be pious among infidels, to be disinterested in a time of +general venality, to lead a life of virtue and reason in the midst of +sensualists, is a proof of a mind intent on nobler things than the +praise or blame of men, of a soul fixed in the contemplation of the +highest good, and superior to the tyranny of custom and example. + +In moral and religious questions only, a wise man will hold no +consultations with fashion, because these duties are constant and +immutable, and depend not on the notions of men, but the commands of +Heaven: yet even of these, the external mode is to be in some measure +regulated by the prevailing taste of the age in which we live; for he is +certainly no friend to virtue, who neglects to give it any lawful +attraction, or suffers it to deceive the eye or alienate the affections +for want of innocent compliance with fashionable decorations. + +It is yet remembered of the learned and pious Nelson[1], that he was +remarkably elegant in his manners, and splendid in his dress. He knew, +that the eminence of his character drew many eyes upon him; and he was +careful not to drive the young or the gay away from religion, by +representing it as an enemy to any distinction or enjoyment in which +human nature may innocently delight. + +In this censure of singularity, I have, therefore, no intention to +subject reason or conscience to custom or example. To comply with the +notions and practices of mankind, is in some degree the duty of a social +being; because by compliance only he can please, and by pleasing only he +can become useful: but as the end is not to be lost for the sake of the +means, we are not to give up virtue to complaisance; for the end of +complaisance is only to gain the kindness of our fellow-beings, whose +kindness is desirable only as instrumental to happiness, and happiness +must be always lost by departure from virtue. + + +[1] The neglect of his writings must be considered as indicative of an + increasing neglect of that apostolical establishment, whose Fasts + and Festivals this author has illustrated with a raciness of style + and sentiment worthy of a primitive father of the Church. + + + + +No. 137. TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 26, 1754. + + [Greek: Ti d erexa]; PYTHAG. + + What have I been doing? + +As man is a being very sparingly furnished with the power of prescience, +he can provide for the future only by considering the past; and as +futurity is all in which he has any real interest, he ought very +diligently to use the only means by which he can be enabled to enjoy it, +and frequently to revolve the experiments which he has hitherto made +upon life, that he may gain wisdom from his mistakes, and caution from +his miscarriages. + +Though I do not so exactly conform to the precepts of Pythagoras, as to +practise every night this solemn recollection, yet I am not so lost in +dissipation as wholly to omit it; nor can I forbear sometimes to inquire +of myself, in what employment my life has passed away. Much of my time +has sunk into nothing, and left no trace by which it can be +distinguished; and of this I now only know, that it was once in my +power, and might once have been improved. + +Of other parts of life, memory can give some account; at some hours I +have been gay, and at others serious; I have sometimes mingled in +conversation, and sometimes meditated in solitude; one day has been +spent in consulting the ancient sages, and another in writing +_Adventurers_. + +At the conclusion of any undertaking, it is usual to compute the loss +and profit. As I shall soon cease to write _Adventurers_, I could not +forbear lately to consider what has been the consequence of my labours; +and whether I am to reckon the hours laid out in these compositions, as +applied to a good and laudable purpose, or suffered to fume away in +useless evaporations. + +That I have intended well, I have the attestation of my own heart: but +good intentions may be frustrated when they are executed without +suitable skill, or directed to an end unattainable in itself. + +Some there are, who leave writers very little room for +self-congratulation; some who affirm, that books have no influence upon +the publick, that no age was ever made better by its authors, and that to +call upon mankind to correct their manners, is, like Xerxes, to scourge +the wind, or shackle the torrent. + +This opinion they pretend to support by unfailing experience. The world +is full of fraud and corruption, rapine or malignity; interest is the +ruling motive of mankind, and every one is endeavouring to increase his +own stores of happiness by perpetual accumulation, without reflecting +upon the numbers whom his superfluity condemns to want: in this state of +things a book of morality is published, in which charity and benevolence +are strongly enforced; and it is proved beyond opposition, that men are +happy in proportion as they are virtuous, and rich as they are liberal. +The book is applauded, and the author is preferred; he imagines his +applause deserved, and receives less pleasure from the acquisition of +reward than the consciousness of merit. Let us look again upon mankind: +interest is still the ruling motive, and the world is yet full of fraud +and corruption, malevolence and rapine. + +The difficulty of confuting this assertion, arises merely from its +generality and comprehension; to overthrow it by a detail of distinct +facts, requires a wider survey of the world than human eyes can take; +the progress of reformation is gradual and silent, as the extension of +evening shadows; we know that they were short at noon, and are long at +sunset, but our senses were not able to discern their increase: we know +of every civil nation, that it was once savage, and how was it reclaimed +but by precept and admonition? + +Mankind are universally corrupt, but corrupt in different degrees; as +they are universally ignorant, yet with greater or less irradiations of +knowledge. How has knowledge or virtue been increased and preserved in +one place beyond another, but by diligent inculcation and rational +enforcement? + +Books of morality are daily written, yet its influence is still little +in the world; so the ground is annually ploughed, and yet multitudes are +in want of bread. But, surely, neither the labours of the moralist nor +of the husbandman are vain: let them for a while neglect their tasks, +and their usefulness will be known; the wickedness that is now frequent +will become universal, the bread that is now scarce would wholly fail. + +The power, indeed, of every individual is small, and the consequence of +his endeavours imperceptible, in a general prospect of the world. +Providence has given no man ability to do much, that something might be +left for every man to do. The business of life is carried on by a +general co-operation; in which the part of any single man can be no more +distinguished, than the effect of a particular drop when the meadows are +floated by a summer shower: yet every drop increases the inundation, and +every hand adds to the happiness or misery of mankind. + +That a writer, however zealous or eloquent, seldom works a visible +effect upon cities or nations, will readily be granted. The book which +is read most, is read by few, compared with those that read it not; and +of those few, the greater part peruse it with dispositions that very +little favour their own improvement. + +It is difficult to enumerate the several motives which procure to books +the honour of perusal: spite, vanity, and curiosity, hope and fear, love +and hatred, every passion which incites to any other action, serves at +one time or other to stimulate a reader. + +Some are fond to take a celebrated volume into their hands, because they +hope to distinguish their penetration, by finding faults which have +escaped the publick; others eagerly buy it in the first bloom of +reputation, that they may join the chorus of praise, and not lag, as +Falstaff terms it, in "the rearward of the fashion." + +Some read for style, and some for argument: one has little care about +the sentiment, he observes only how it is expressed; another regards not +the conclusion, but is diligent to mark how it is inferred: they read +for other purposes than the attainment of practical knowledge; and are +no more likely to grow wise by an examination of a treatise of moral +prudence, than an architect to inflame his devotion by considering +attentively the proportions of a temple. + +Some read that they may embellish their conversation, or shine in +dispute; some that they may not be detected in ignorance, or want the +reputation of literary accomplishments: but the most general and +prevalent reason of study is the impossibility of finding another +amusement equally cheap or constant, equally independent on the hour or +the weather. He that wants money to follow the chase of pleasure through +her yearly circuit, and is left at home when the gay world rolls to Bath +or Tunbridge; he whose gout compels him to hear from his chamber the +rattle of chariots transporting happier beings to plays and assemblies, +will be forced to seek in books a refuge from himself. + +The author is not wholly useless, who provides innocent amusements for +minds like these. There are, in the present state of things, so many +more instigations to evil, than incitements to good, that he who keeps +men in a neutral state, may be justly considered as a benefactor to +life. + +But, perhaps, it seldom happens, that study terminates in mere pastime. +Books have always a secret influence on the understanding; we cannot, at +pleasure, obliterate ideas: he that reads books of science, though +without any fixed desire of improvement, will grow more knowing; he that +entertains himself with moral or religious treatises, will imperceptibly +advance in goodness; the ideas which are often offered to the mind, will +at last find a lucky moment when it is disposed to receive them. + +It is, therefore, urged without reason, as a discouragement to writers, +that there are already books sufficient in the world; that all the +topicks of persuasion have been discussed, and every important question +clearly stated and justly decided; and that, therefore, there is no room +to hope, that pigmies should conquer where heroes have been defeated, or +that the petty copiers of the present time should advance the great work +of reformation, which their predecessors were forced to leave +unfinished. + +Whatever be the present extent of human knowledge, it is not only +finite, and therefore in its own nature capable of increase, but so +narrow, that almost every understanding may, by a diligent application +of its powers, hope to enlarge it. It is, however, not necessary that a +man should forbear to write, till he has discovered some truth unknown +before; he may be sufficiently useful, by only diversifying the surface +of knowledge, and luring the mind by a new appearance to a second view +of those beauties which it had passed over inattentively before. Every +writer may find intellects correspondent to his own, to whom his +expressions are familiar, and his thoughts congenial; and, perhaps, +truth is often more successfully propagated by men of moderate +abilities, who, adopting the opinions of others, have no care but to +explain them clearly, than by subtle speculatists and curious searchers, +who exact from their readers powers equal to their own, and if their +fabricks of science be strong, take no care to render them accessible. + +For my part, I do not regret the hours which I have laid out in these +little compositions. That the world has grown apparently better, since +the publication of the _Adventurer_, I have not observed; but am willing +to think, that many have been affected by single sentiments, of which it +is their business to renew the impression; that many have caught hints +of truth, which it is now their duty to pursue; and that those who have +received no improvement, have wanted not opportunity but intention to +improve. + + + + +No. 138. SATURDAY, MARCH 2, 1754. + + _Quid pure tranquillet; honos, an dulce lucellum, + An secretum iter, et fallentis semita vitae._ HOR. Lib, i. Ep. + xviii. 102. + + Whether the tranquil mind and pure, + Honours or wealth our bliss ensure: + Or down through life unknown to stray, + Where lonely leads the silent way. FRANCIS. + +Having considered the importance of authors to the welfare of the +publick, I am led by a natural train of thought, to reflect on their +condition with regard to themselves; and to inquire what degree of +happiness or vexation is annexed to the difficult and laborious +employment of providing instruction or entertainment for mankind. + +In estimating the pain or pleasure of any particular state, every man, +indeed, draws his decisions from his own breast, and cannot with +certainty determine whether other minds are affected by the same causes +in the same manner. Yet by this criterion we must be content to judge, +because no other can be obtained; and, indeed, we have no reason to +think it very fallacious, for excepting here and there an anomalous +mind, which either does not feel like others, or dissembles its +sensibility, we find men unanimously concur in attributing happiness or +misery to particular conditions, as they agree in acknowledging the cold +of winter and the heat of autumn. + +If we apply to authors themselves for an account of their state, it will +appear very little to deserve envy; for they have in all ages been +addicted to complaint. The neglect of learning, the ingratitude of the +present age, and the absurd preference by which ignorance and dulness +often obtain favour and rewards, have been from age to age topicks of +invective; and few have left their names to posterity, without some +appeal to future candour from the perverseness and malice of their own +times. + +I have, nevertheless, been often inclined to doubt, whether authors, +however querulous, are in reality more miserable than their fellow +mortals. The present life is to all a state of infelicity; every man, +like an author, believes himself to merit more than he obtains, and +solaces the present with the prospect of the future; others, indeed, +suffer those disappointments in silence, of which the writer complains, +to show how well he has learnt the art of lamentation. + +There is at least one gleam of felicity, of which few writers have +missed the enjoyment: he whose hopes have so far overpowered his fears, +as that he has resolved to stand forth a candidate for fame, seldom +fails to amuse himself, before his appearance, with pleasing scenes of +affluence or honour: while his fortune is yet under the regulation of +fancy, he easily models it to his wish, suffers no thoughts of criticks +or rivals to intrude upon his mind, but counts over the bounties of +patronage, or listens to the voice of praise. + +Some there are, that talk very luxuriously of the second period of an +author's happiness, and tell of the tumultuous raptures of invention, +when the mind riots in imagery, and the choice stands suspended between +different sentiments. + +These pleasures, I believe, may sometimes be indulged to those, who come +to a subject of disquisition with minds full of ideas, and with fancies +so vigorous, as easily to excite, select, and arrange them. To write is, +indeed, no unpleasing employment, when one sentiment readily produces +another, and both ideas and expressions present themselves at the first +summons; but such happiness, the greatest genius does not always obtain; +and common writers know it only to such a degree, as to credit its +possibility. Composition is, for the most part, an effort of slow +diligence and steady perseverance, to which the mind is dragged by +necessity or resolution, and from which the attention is every moment +starting to more delightful amusements. + +It frequently happens, that a design which, when considered at a +distance, gave flattering hopes of facility, mocks us in the execution +with unexpected difficulties; the mind which, while it considered it in +the gross, imagined itself amply furnished with materials, finds +sometimes an unexpected barrenness and vacuity, and wonders whither all +those ideas are vanished, which a little before seemed struggling for +emission. + +Sometimes many thoughts present themselves; but so confused and +unconnected, that they are not without difficulty reduced to method, or +concatenated in a regular and dependent series; the mind falls at once +into a labyrinth, of which neither the beginning nor end can be +discovered, and toils and struggles without progress or extrication. + +It is asserted by Horace, that, "if matter be once got together, words +will be found with very little difficulty;" a position which, though +sufficiently plausible to be inserted in poetical precepts, is by no +means strictly and philosophically true. If words were naturally and +necessarily consequential to sentiments, it would always follow, that he +who has most knowledge must have most eloquence, and that every man +would clearly express what he fully understood: yet we find, that to +think, and discourse, are often the qualities of different persons: and +many books might surely be produced, where just and noble sentiments are +degraded and obscured by unsuitable diction. + +Words, therefore, as well as things, claim the care of an author. Indeed +of many authors, and those not useless or contemptible, words are almost +the only care: many make it their study, not so much to strike out new +sentiments, as to recommend those which are already known to more +favourable notice by fairer decorations; but every man, whether he +copies or invents, whether he delivers his own thoughts or those of +another, has often found himself deficient in the power of expression, +big with ideas which he could not utter, obliged to ransack his memory +for terms adequate to his conceptions, and at last unable to impress +upon his reader the image existing in his own mind. + +It is one of the common distresses of a writer, to be within a word of a +happy period, to want only a single epithet to give amplification its +full force, to require only a correspondent term in order to finish a +paragraph with elegance, and make one of its members answer to the +other; but these deficiencies cannot always be supplied: and after a +long study and vexation, the passage is turned anew, and the web unwoven +that was so nearly finished. + +But when thoughts and words are collected and adjusted, and the whole +composition at last concluded, it seldom gratifies the author, when he +comes coolly and deliberately to review it, with the hopes which had +been excited in the fury of the performance: novelty always captivates +the mind; as our thoughts rise fresh upon us, we readily believe them +just and original, which, when the pleasure of production is over, we +find to be mean and common, or borrowed from the works of others, and +supplied by memory rather than invention. + +But though it should happen that the writer finds no such faults in his +performance, he is still to remember, that he looks upon it with partial +eyes: and when he considers, how much men, who could judge of others +with great exactness, have often failed of judging of themselves, he +will be afraid of deciding too hastily in his own favour, or of allowing +himself to contemplate with too much complacence, treasure that has not +yet been brought to the test, nor passed the only trial that can stamp +its value. + +From the publick, and only from the publick, is he to await a +confirmation of his claim, and a final justification of self-esteem; but +the publick is not easily persuaded to favour an author. If mankind were +left to judge for themselves, it is reasonable to imagine, that of such +writings, at least, as describe the movements of the human passions, and +of which every man carries the archetype within him, a just opinion +would be formed; but whoever has remarked the fate of books, must have +found it governed by other causes than general consent arising from +general conviction. If a new performance happens not to fall into the +hands of some who have courage to tell, and authority to propagate their +opinion, it often remains long in obscurity, and perishes unknown and +unexamined. A few, a very few, commonly constitute the taste of the +time; the judgment which they have once pronounced, some are too lazy to +discuss, and some too timorous to contradict; it may however be, I +think, observed, that their power is greater to depress than exalt, as +mankind are more credulous of censure than of praise. + +This perversion of the publick judgment is not to be rashly numbered +amongst the miseries of an author; since it commonly serves, after +miscarriage, to reconcile him to himself. Because the world has +sometimes passed an unjust sentence, he readily concludes the sentence +unjust by which his performance is condemned; because some have been +exalted above their merits by partiality, he is sure to ascribe the +success of a rival, not to the merit of his work, but the zeal of his +patrons. Upon the whole, as the author seems to share all the common +miseries of life, he appears to partake likewise of its lenitives and +abatements[1]. + +[1] See a pamphlet entitled "The Case of Authors by Profession," 8vo. + 1758. It is the production of Mr. James Ralph, who knew from painful + experience the bitter evils incident to an employment which yielded + a bare maintenance to Johnson himself. For anecdotes of Ralph, and + the work alluded to, see Dr. Drake's Essays on Rambler, &c. vol. i. + p. 96. + + + + + +THE IDLER. + + + + + +ADVERTISEMENT. + + +The IDLER having omitted to distinguish the essays of his correspondents +by any particular signature, thinks it necessary to inform his readers, +that from the ninth, the fifteenth, thirty-third, forty-second, +fifty-fourth, sixty-seventh, seventy-sixth, seventy-ninth, +eighty-second, ninety-third, ninety-sixth, and ninety-eighth papers, he +claims no other praise than that of having given them to the publick[1]. + +[1] The names of the Authors of these Papers, as far as known, will be +given in the course of the present edition. + + + + +THE IDLER. + + + + +No. 1. SATURDAY, APRIL 15, 1758. + + _--Vacui sub umbra + Lusimus_.--Hor. Lib. i. Ode xxxii. 1. + +Those who attempt periodical essays seem to be often stopped in the +beginning, by the difficulty of finding a proper title. Two writers, +since the time of the Spectator, have assumed his name[1] without any +pretensions to lawful inheritance; an effort was once made to revive the +Tatler[2], and the strange appellations, by which other papers have been +called, show that the authors were distressed, like the natives of +America, who come to the Europeans to beg a name. + +It will be easily believed of the Idler, that if his title had required +any search, he never would have found it. Every mode of life has its +conveniencies. The Idler, who habituates himself to be satisfied with +what he can most easily obtain, not only escapes labours which are often +fruitless, but sometimes succeeds better than those who despise all that +is within their reach, and think every thing more valuable as it is +harder to be acquired. + +If similitude of manners be a motive to kindness, the Idler may flatter +himself with universal patronage. There is no single character under +which such numbers are comprised. Every man is, or hopes to be, an +Idler. Even those who seem to differ most from us are hastening to +increase our fraternity; as peace is the end of war, so to be idle is +the ultimate purpose of the busy. + +There is perhaps no appellation by which a writer can better denote his +kindred to the human species. It has been found hard to describe man by +an adequate definition. Some philosophers have called him a reasonable +animal; but others have considered reason as a quality of which many +creatures partake. He has been termed likewise a laughing animal; but it +is said that some men have never laughed. Perhaps man may be more +properly distinguished as an idle animal; for there is no man who is not +sometimes idle. It is at least a definition from which none that shall +find it in this paper can be excepted; for who can be more idle than the +reader of the Idler? + +That the definition may be complete, idleness must be not only the +general, but the peculiar characteristick of man; and perhaps man is the +only being that can properly be called idle, that does by others what he +might do himself, or sacrifices duty or pleasure to the love of ease. + +Scarcely any name can be imagined from which less envy or competition is +to be dreaded. The Idler has no rivals or enemies. The man of business +forgets him; the man of enterprise despises him; and though such as +tread the same track of life fall commonly into jealousy and discord, +Idlers are always found to associate in peace; and he who is most famed +for doing nothing, is glad to meet another as idle as himself. + +What is to be expected from this paper, whether it will be uniform or +various, learned or familiar, serious or gay, political or moral, +continued or interrupted, it is hoped that no reader will inquire. That +the Idler has some scheme, cannot be doubted, for to form schemes is the +Idler's privilege. But though he has many projects in his head, he is +now grown sparing of communication, having observed, that his hearers +are apt to remember what he forgets himself; that his tardiness of +execution exposes him to the encroachments of those who catch a hint and +fall to work; and that very specious plans, after long contrivance and +pompous displays, have subsided in weariness without a trial, and +without miscarriage have been blasted by derision. + +Something the Idler's character may be supposed to promise. Those that +are curious after diminutive history, who watch the revolutions of +families, and the rise and fall of characters either male or female, +will hope to be gratified by this paper; for the Idler is always +inquisitive and seldom retentive. He that delights in obloquy and +satire, and wishes to see clouds gathering over any reputation that +dazzles him with its brightness, will snatch up the Idler's essays with +a beating heart. The Idler is naturally censorious; those who attempt +nothing themselves, think every thing easily performed, and consider the +unsuccessful always as criminal. + +I think it necessary to give notice, that I make no contract, nor incur +any obligation. If those who depend on the Idler for intelligence and +entertainment, should suffer the disappointment which commonly follows +ill-placed expectations, they are to lay the blame only on themselves. + +Yet hope is not wholly to be cast away. The Idler, though sluggish, is +yet alive, and may sometimes be stimulated to vigour and activity. He +may descend into profoundness, or tower into sublimity; for the +diligence of an Idler is rapid and impetuous, as ponderous bodies forced +into velocity move with violence proportionate to their weight. + +But these vehement exertions of intellect cannot be frequent, and he +will therefore gladly receive help from any correspondent, who shall +enable him to please without his own labour. He excludes no style, he +prohibits no subject; only let him that writes to the Idler remember, +that his letters must not be long; no words are to be squandered in +declarations of esteem, or confessions of inability; conscious dulness +has little right to be prolix, and praise is not so welcome to the Idler +as quiet. + + +[1] The Universal Spectator in 1728, by the celebrated antiquary William + Oldys. + + The Female Spectator in 1744, by Eliza Haywood. + + These were followed by the New Spectator in 1784; and lastly, by the + Country Spectator in 1792. This last is a production of very + considerable merit. + +[2] This attempt was made in 1750, under the title of the Tatler + Revived. After a short trial it completely failed. + + + + +No. 2. SATURDAY, APRIL 22, 1758. + + --_Toto non quater anno + Membranam_.--HOR. Lib. ii. Sat. iii. 1. + +Many positions are often on the tongue, and seldom in the mind; there +are many truths which every human being acknowledges and forgets. It is +generally known, that he who expects much will be often disappointed; +yet disappointment seldom cures us of expectation, or has any other +effect than that of producing a moral sentence, or peevish exclamation. +He that embarks in the voyage of life, will always wish to advance +rather by the impulse of the wind, than the strokes of the oar; and many +founder in the passage, while they lie waiting for the gale that is to +waft them to their wish. + +It will naturally be suspected that the Idler has lately suffered some +disappointment, and that he does not talk thus gravely for nothing. No +man is required to betray his own secrets. I will however, confess, that +I have now been a writer almost a week, and have not yet heard a single +word of praise, nor received one hint from any correspondent. + +Whence this negligence proceeds I am not able to discover. Many of my +predecessors have thought themselves obliged to return their +acknowledgments in the second paper, for the kind reception of the +first; and in a short time, apologies have become necessary to those +ingenious gentlemen and ladies, whose performances, though in the +highest degree elegant and learned, have been unavoidably delayed. + +What then will be thought of me, who, having experienced no kindness, +have no thanks to return; whom no gentleman or lady has yet enabled to +give any cause of discontent, and who have therefore no opportunity of +showing how skilfully I can pacify resentment, extenuate negligence, or +palliate rejection. + +I have long known that splendour of reputation is not to be counted +among the necessaries of life, and therefore shall not much repine if +praise be withheld till it is better deserved. But surely I may be +allowed to complain, that, in a nation of authors, not one has thought +me worthy of notice after so fair an invitation. + +At the time when the rage of writing has seized the old and young, when +the cook warbles her lyricks in the kitchen, and the thrasher +vociferates his heroicks in the barn; when our traders deal out +knowledge in bulky volumes, and our girls forsake their samplers to +teach kingdoms wisdom; it may seem very unnecessary to draw any more +from their proper occupations, by affording new opportunities of +literary fame[1]. + +I should be indeed unwilling to find that, for the sake of corresponding +with the Idler, the smith's iron had cooled on the anvil, or the +spinster's distaff stood unemployed. I solicit only the contributions of +those who have already devoted themselves to literature, or, without any +determinate intention, wander at large through the expanse of life, and +wear out the day in hearing at one place what they utter at another. + +Of these, a great part are already writers. One has a friend in the +country upon whom he exercises his powers; whose passions he raises and +depresses; whose understanding he perplexes with paradoxes, or +strengthens by argument; whose admiration he courts, whose praises he +enjoys; and who serves him instead of a senate or a theatre; as the +young soldiers in the Roman camp learned the use of their weapons by +fencing against a post in the place of an enemy. + +Another has his pockets filled with essays and epigrams, which he reads +from house to house, to select parties; and which his acquaintances are +daily entreating him to withhold no longer from the impatience of the +publick. + +If among these any one is persuaded, that, by such preludes of +composition, he has qualified himself to appear in the open world, and +is yet afraid of those censures which they who have already written, and +they who cannot write, are equally ready to fulminate against publick +pretenders to fame, he may, by transmitting his performances to the +Idler, make a cheap experiment of his abilities, and enjoy the pleasure +of success, without the hazard of miscarriage. + +Many advantages not generally known arise from this method of stealing +on the publick. The standing author of the paper is always the object of +critical malignity. Whatever is mean will be imputed to him, and +whatever is excellent be ascribed to his assistants. It does not much +alter the event, that the author and his correspondents are equally +unknown; for the author, whoever he be, is an individual, of whom every +reader has some fixed idea, and whom he is therefore unwilling to +gratify with applause; but the praises given to his correspondents are +scattered in the air, none can tell on whom they will light, and +therefore none are unwilling to bestow them. + +He that is known to contribute to a periodical work, needs no other +caution than not to tell what particular pieces are his own; such +secrecy is indeed very difficult; but if it can be maintained, it is +scarcely to be imagined at how small an expense he may grow +considerable. + +A person of quality, by a single paper, may engross the honour of a +volume. Fame is indeed dealt with a hand less and less bounteous through +the subordinate ranks, till it descends to the professed author, who +will find it very difficult to get more than he deserves; but every man +who does not want it, or who needs not value it, may have liberal +allowances; and, for five letters in the year sent to the Idler, of +which perhaps only two are printed, will be promoted to the first rank +of writers by those who are weary of the present race of wits, and wish +to sink them into obscurity before the lustre of a name not yet known +enough to be detested. + +[1] See Knox's Essays, Number 50. + + + + +No. 3. SATURDAY, APRIL 29, 1758. + + --_Otia vitae + Solamur cantu_. STAT. + +It has long been the complaint of those who frequent the theatres, that +all the dramatick art has been long exhausted, and that the vicissitudes +of fortune, and accidents of life, have been shown in every possible +combination, till the first scene informs us of the last, and the play +no sooner opens, than every auditor knows how it will conclude. When a +conspiracy is formed in a tragedy, we guess by whom it will be detected; +when a letter is dropt in a comedy, we can tell by whom it will be +found. Nothing is now left for the poet but character and sentiment, +which are to make their way as they can, without the soft anxiety of +suspense, or the enlivening agitation of surprise. + +A new paper lies under the same disadvantages as a new play. There is +danger lest it be new without novelty. My earlier predecessors had their +choice of vices and follies, and selected such as were most likely to +raise merriment or attract attention; they had the whole field of life +before them, untrodden and unsurveyed; characters of every kind shot up +in their way, and those of the most luxuriant growth, or most +conspicuous colours, were naturally cropt by the first sickle. They that +follow are forced to peep into neglected corners, to note the casual +varieties of the same species, and to recommend themselves by minute +industry and distinctions too subtle for common eyes. + +Sometimes it may happen, that the haste or negligence of the first +inquirers has left enough behind to reward another search; sometimes new +objects start up under the eye, and he that is looking for one kind of +matter, is amply gratified by the discovery of another. But still it +must be allowed, that, as more is taken, less can remain; and every +truth brought newly to light impoverishes the mine, from which +succeeding intellects are to dig their treasures. + +Many philosophers imagine, that the elements themselves may be in time +exhausted; that the sun, by shining long, will effuse all its light; and +that, by the continual waste of aqueous particles, the whole earth will +at last become a sandy desert. + +I would not advise my readers to disturb themselves by contriving how +they shall live without light and water. For the days of universal +thirst and perpetual darkness are at a great distance. The ocean and the +sun will last our time, and we may leave posterity to shift for +themselves. + +But if the stores of nature are limited, much more narrow bounds must be +set to the modes of life; and mankind may want a moral or amusing paper, +many years before they shall be deprived of drink or day-light. This +want, which to the busy and the inventive may seem easily remediable by +some substitute or other, the whole race of Idlers will feel with all +the sensibility that such torpid animals can suffer. + +When I consider the innumerable multitudes that, having no motive of +desire, or determination of will, lie freezing in perpetual inactivity, +till some external impulse puts them in motion; who awake in the +morning, vacant of thought, with minds gaping for the intellectual food, +which some kind essayist has been accustomed to supply; I am moved by +the commiseration with which all human beings ought to behold the +distresses of each other, to try some expedients for their relief, and +to inquire by what methods the listless may be actuated, and the empty +be replenished. + +There are said to be pleasures in madness known only to madmen. There +are certainly miseries in idleness, which the Idler only can conceive. +These miseries I have often felt and often bewailed. I know by +experience, how welcome is every avocation that summons the thoughts to +a new image; and how much languor and lassitude are relieved by that +officiousness which offers a momentary amusement to him who is unable to +find it for himself. + +It is naturally indifferent to this race of men what entertainment they +receive, so they are but entertained. They catch, with equal eagerness, +at a moral lecture, or the memoirs of a robber; a prediction of the +appearance of a comet, or the calculation of the chances of a lottery. + +They might therefore easily be pleased, if they consulted only their own +minds; but those who will not take the trouble to think for themselves, +have always somebody to think for them; and the difficulty in writing is +to please those from whom others learn to be pleased. + +Much mischief is done in the world with very little interest or design. +He that assumes the character of a critick, and justifies his claim by +perpetual censure, imagines that he is hurting none but the author, and +him he considers as a pestilent animal, whom every other being has a +right to persecute; little does he think how many harmless men he +involves in his own guilt, by teaching them to be noxious without +malignity, and to repeat objections which they do not understand; or how +many honest minds he debars from pleasure, by exciting an artificial +fastidiousness, and making them too wise to concur with their own +sensations. He who is taught by a critick to dislike that which pleased +him in his natural state, has the same reason to complain of his +instructer, as the madman to rail at his doctor, who, when he thought +himself master of Peru, physicked him to poverty. + +If men will struggle against their own advantage, they are not to expect +that the Idler will take much pains upon them; he has himself to please +as well as them, and has long learned, or endeavoured to learn, not to +make the pleasure of others too necessary to his own. + + + + +No. 4. SATURDAY, MAY 6, 1758. + + [Greek: Pantas gar phileeske.] HOM. + +Charity, or tenderness for the poor, which is now justly considered, by +a great part of mankind, as inseparable from piety, and in which almost +all the goodness of the present age consists, is, I think, known only to +those who enjoy, either immediately or by transmission, the light of +revelation. + +Those ancient nations who have given us the wisest models of government, +and the brightest examples of patriotism, whose institutions have been +transcribed by all succeeding legislatures, and whose history is studied +by every candidate for political or military reputation, have yet left +behind them no mention of alms-houses or hospitals, or places where age +might repose, or sickness be relieved. + +The Roman emperours, indeed, gave large donatives to the citizens and +soldiers, but these distributions were always reckoned rather popular +than virtuous: nothing more was intended than an ostentation of +liberality, nor was any recompense expected, but suffrages and +acclamations. + +Their beneficence was merely occasional; he that ceased to need the +favour of the people, ceased likewise to court it; and, therefore, no +man thought it either necessary or wise to make any standing provision +for the needy, to look forwards to the wants of posterity, or to secure +successions of charity, for successions of distress. + +Compassion is by some reasoners, on whom the name of philosophers has +been too easily conferred, resolved into an affection merely selfish, an +involuntary perception of pain at the involuntary sight of a being like +ourselves languishing in misery. But this sensation, if ever it be felt +at all from the brute instinct of uninstructed nature, will only produce +effects desultory and transient; it will never settle into a principle +of action, or extend relief to calamities unseen, in generations not yet +in being. + +The devotion of life or fortune to the succour of the poor, is a height +of virtue, to which humanity has never risen by its own power. The +charity of the Mahometans is a precept which their teacher evidently +transplanted from the doctrines of Christianity; and the care with which +some of the Oriental sects attend, as is said, to the necessities of the +diseased and indigent, may be added to the other arguments, which prove +Zoroaster to have borrowed his institutions from the law of Moses. + +The present age, though not likely to shine hereafter among the most +splendid periods of history, has yet given examples of charity, which +may be very properly recommended to imitation. The equal distribution of +wealth, which long commerce has produced, does not enable any single +hand to raise edifices of piety like fortified cities, to appropriate +manors to religious uses, or deal out such large and lasting beneficence +as was scattered over the land in ancient times, by those who possessed +counties or provinces. But no sooner is a new species of misery brought +to view, and a design of relieving it professed, than every hand is open +to contribute something, every tongue is busied in solicitation, and +every art of pleasure is employed for a time in the interest of virtue. + +The most apparent and pressing miseries incident to man, have now their +peculiar houses of reception and relief; and there are few among us, +raised however little above the danger of poverty, who may not justly +claim, what is implored by the Mahometans in their most ardent +benedictions, the prayers of the poor. + +Among those actions which the mind can most securely review with +unabated pleasure, is that of having contributed to an hospital for the +sick. Of some kinds of charity the consequences are dubious: some evils +which beneficence has been busy to remedy, are not certainly known to be +very grievous to the sufferer, or detrimental to the community; but no +man can question whether wounds and sickness are not really painful; +whether it be not worthy of a good man's care to restore those to ease +and usefulness, from whose labour infants and women expect their bread, +and who, by a casual hurt, or lingering disease, lie pining in want and +anguish, burthensome to others, and weary of themselves. + +Yet as the hospitals of the present time subsist only by gifts bestowed +at pleasure, without any solid fund of support, there is danger lest the +blaze of charity, which now burns with so much heat and splendour, +should die away for want of lasting fuel; lest fashion should suddenly +withdraw her smile, and inconstancy transfer the publick attention to +something which may appear more eligible, because it will be new. + +Whatever is left in the hands of chance must be subject to vicissitude; +and when any establishment is found to be useful, it ought to be the +next care to make it permanent. + +But man is a transitory being, and his designs must partake of the +imperfections of their author. To confer duration is not always in our +power. We must snatch the present moment, and employ it well, without +too much solicitude for the future, and content ourselves with +reflecting that our part is performed. He that waits for an opportunity +to do much at once, may breathe out his life in idle wishes, and regret, +in the last hour, his useless intentions, and barren zeal. + +The most active promoters of the present schemes of charity cannot be +cleared from some instances of misconduct, which may awaken contempt or +censure, and hasten that neglect which is likely to come too soon of +itself. The open competitions between different hospitals, and the +animosity with which their patrons oppose one another, may prejudice +weak minds against them all. For it will not be easily believed, that +any man can, for good reasons, wish to exclude another from doing good. +The spirit of charity can only be continued by a reconciliation of these +ridiculous feuds; and therefore, instead of contentions who shall be the +only benefactors to the needy, let there be no other struggle than who +shall be the first. + + + + +No. 5. SATURDAY, MAY 13, 1758. + + --[Greek: Kallos + Ant egcheon hapanton + Ant aspidon hapason]. ANAC. + +Our military operations are at last begun; our troops are marching in +all the pomp of war, and a camp is marked out on the Isle of Wight; the +heart of every Englishman now swells with confidence, though somewhat +softened by generous compassion for the consternation and distresses of +our enemies. + +This formidable armament and splendid march produce different effects +upon different minds, according to the boundless diversities of temper, +occupation, and habits of thought. + +Many a tender maiden considers her lover as already lost, because he +cannot reach the camp but by crossing the sea; men of a more political +understanding are persuaded that we shall now see, in a few days, the +ambassadours of France supplicating for pity. Some are hoping for a +bloody battle, because a bloody battle makes a vendible narrative; some +are composing songs of victory; some planning arches of triumph; and +some are mixing fireworks for the celebration of a peace. + +Of all extensive and complicated objects, different parts are selected +by different eyes; and minds are variously affected, as they vary their +attention. The care of the publick is now fixed upon our soldiers, who +are leaving their native country to wander, none can tell how long, in +the pathless deserts of the Isle of Wight. The tender sigh for their +sufferings, and the gay drink to their success. I, who look, or believe +myself to look, with more philosophick eyes on human affairs, must +confess, that I saw the troops march with little emotion; my thoughts +were fixed upon other scenes, and the tear stole into my eyes, not for +those who were going away, but for those who were left behind. + +We have no reason to doubt but our troops will proceed with proper +caution; there are men among them who can take care of themselves. But +how shall the ladies endure without them? By what arts can they, who +have long had no joy but from the civilities of a soldier, now amuse +their hours, and solace their separation? + +Of fifty thousand men, now destined to different stations, if we allow +each to have been occasionally necessary only to four women, a short +computation will inform us, that two hundred thousand ladies are left to +languish in distress; two hundred thousand ladies, who must run to sales +and auctions without an attendant; sit at the play, without a critick to +direct their opinion; buy their fans by their own judgment; dispose +shells by their own invention; walk in the Mall without a gallant; go to +the gardens without a protector; and shuffle cards with vain impatience, +for want of a fourth to complete the party. + +Of these ladies, some, I hope, have lap-dogs, and some monkeys; but they +are unsatisfactory companions. Many useful offices are performed by men +of scarlet, to which neither dog nor monkey has adequate abilities. A +parrot, indeed, is as fine as a colonel, and, if he has been much used +to good company, is not wholly without conversation; but a parrot, after +all, is a poor little creature, and has neither sword nor shoulder-knot, +can neither dance nor play at cards. + +Since the soldiers must obey the call of their duty, and go to that side +of the kingdom which faces France, I know not why the ladies, who cannot +live without them, should not follow them. The prejudices and pride of +man have long presumed the sword and spindle made for different hands, +and denied the other sex to partake the grandeur of military glory. This +notion may be consistently enough received in France, where the salick +law excludes females from the throne; but we, who allow them to be +sovereigns, may surely suppose them capable to be soldiers. + +It were to be wished that some man, whose experience and authority might +enforce regard, would propose that our encampments for the present year +should comprise an equal number of men and women, who should march and +fight in mingled bodies. If proper colonels were once appointed, and the +drums ordered to beat for female volunteers, our regiments would soon be +filled without the reproach or cruelty of an impress. + +Of these heroines, some might serve on foot under the denomination of +the _Female Buffs_, and some on horseback, with the title of _Lady +Hussars_. + +What objections can be made to this scheme I have endeavoured maturely +to consider; and cannot find that a modern soldier has any duties, +except that of obedience, which a lady cannot perform. If the hair has +lost its powder, a lady has a puff; if a coat be spotted, a lady has a +brush. Strength is of less importance since fire-arms have been used; +blows of the hand are now seldom exchanged; and what is there to be done +in the charge or the retreat beyond the powers of a sprightly maiden? + +Our masculine squadrons will not suppose themselves disgraced by their +auxiliaries, till they have done something which women could not have +done. The troops of Braddock never saw their enemies, and perhaps were +defeated by women. If our American general had headed an army of girls, +he might still have built a fort and taken it. Had Minorca been defended +by a female garrison, it might have been surrendered, as it was, without +a breach; and I cannot but think, that seven thousand women might have +ventured to look at Rochfort, sack a village, rob a vineyard, and return +in safety. + + + + +No. 6. SATURDAY, MAY 20, 1758. + + [Greek: Tameion aretaes gennaia gynae]. GR. PRO. + +The lady who had undertaken to ride on one horse a thousand miles in a +thousand hours, has completed her journey in little more than two-thirds +of the time stipulated, and was conducted through the last mile with +triumphal honours. Acclamation shouted before her, and all the flowers +of the spring were scattered in her way. + +Every heart ought to rejoice when true merit is distinguished with +publick notice. I am far from wishing either to the amazon or her horse +any diminution of happiness or fame, and cannot but lament that they +were not more amply and suitably rewarded. + +There was once a time when wreaths of bays or oak were considered as +recompenses equal to the most wearisome labours and terrifick dangers, +and when the miseries of long marches and stormy seas were at once +driven from the remembrance by the fragrance of a garland. + +If this heroine had been born in ancient times, she might perhaps have +been delighted with the simplicity of ancient gratitude; or if any thing +was wanting to full satisfaction, she might have supplied the deficiency +with the hope of deification, and anticipated the altars that would be +raised, and the vows that would be made, by future candidates for +equestrian glory, to the patroness of the race and the goddess of the +stable. + +But fate reserved her for a more enlightened age, which has discovered +leaves and flowers to be transitory things; which considers profit as +the end of honour; and rates the event of every undertaking only by the +money that is gained or lost. In these days, to strew the road with +daisies and lilies, is to mock merit, and delude hope. The toyman will +not give his jewels, nor the mercer measure out his silks, for vegetable +coin. A primrose, though picked up under the feet of the most renowned +courser, will neither be received as a stake at cards, nor procure a +seat at an opera, nor buy candles for a rout, nor lace for a livery. And +though there are many virtuosos, whose sole ambition is to possess +something which can be found in no other hand, yet some are more +accustomed to store their cabinets by theft than purchase, and none of +them would either steal or buy one of the flowers of gratulation till he +knows that all the rest are totally destroyed. + +Little therefore did it avail this wonderful lady to be received, +however joyfully, with such obsolete and barren ceremonies of praise. +Had the way been covered with guineas, though but for the tenth part of +the last mile, she would have considered her skill and diligence as not +wholly lost; and might have rejoiced in the speed and perseverance which +had left her such superfluity of time, that she could at leisure gather +her reward without the danger of Atalanta's miscarriage. + +So much ground could not indeed have been paved with gold but at a large +expense, and we are at present engaged in a war, which demands and +enforces frugality. But common rules are made only for common life, and +some deviation from general policy may be allowed in favour of a lady +that rode a thousand miles in a thousand hours. + +Since the spirit of antiquity so much prevails amongst us, that even on +this great occasion we have given flowers instead of money, let us at +least complete our imitation of the ancients, and endeavour to transmit +to posterity the memory of that virtue, which we consider as superior to +pecuniary recompense. Let an equestrian statue of this heroine be +erected, near the starting-post on the heath of Newmarket, to fill +kindred souls with emulation, and tell the grand-daughters of our +grand-daughters what an English maiden has once performed. + +As events, however illustrious, are soon obscured if they are intrusted +to tradition, I think it necessary, that the pedestal should be +inscribed with a concise account of this great performance. The +composition of this narrative ought not to be committed rashly to +improper hands. If the rhetoricians of Newmarket, who may be supposed +likely to conceive in its full strength the dignity of the subject, +should undertake to express it, there is danger lest they admit some +phrases which, though well understood at present, may be ambiguous in +another century. If posterity should read on a publick monument, that +_the lady carried her horse a thousand miles in a thousand hours_, they +may think that the statue and inscription are at variance, because one +will represent the horse as carrying his lady, and the other tell that +the lady carried her horse. + +Some doubts likewise may be raised by speculatists, and some +controversies be agitated among historians, concerning the motive as +well as the manner of the action. As it will be known, that this wonder +was performed in a time of war, some will suppose that the lady was +frighted by invaders, and fled to preserve her life or her chastity: +others will conjecture, that she was thus honoured for some intelligence +carried of the enemy's designs: some will think that she brought news of +a victory; others, that she was commissioned to tell of a conspiracy; +and some will congratulate themselves on their acuter penetration, and +find, that all these notions of patriotism and publick spirit are +improbable and chimerical; they will confidently tell, that she only ran +away from her guardians, and that the true causes of her speed were fear +and love. + +Let it therefore be carefully mentioned, that by this performance _she +won her wager_; and, lest this should, by any change of manners, seem an +inadequate or incredible incitement, let it be added, that at this time +the original motives of human actions had lost their influence; that the +love of praise was extinct; the fear of infamy was become ridiculous; +and the only wish of an Englishman was, _to win his wager_[1]. + +[1] The incident, so pleasingly ridiculed in this paper, happened in + 1758; and the newspapers of the time gave it due importance. + + + + +No. 7. SATURDAY, MAY 27, 1758. + +One of the principal amusements of the _Idler_ is to read the works of +those minute historians the writers of news, who, though contemptuously +overlooked by the composers of bulky volumes, are yet necessary in a +nation where much wealth produces much leisure, and one part of the +people has nothing to do but to observe the lives and fortunes of the +other. + +To us, who are regaled every morning and evening with intelligence, and +are supplied from day to day with materials for conversation, it is +difficult to conceive how man can subsist without a newspaper, or to +what entertainment companies can assemble, in those wide regions of the +earth that have neither _Chronicles_ nor _Magazines_, neither _Gazettes_ +nor _Advertisers_, neither _Journals_ nor _Evening Posts_. + +There are never great numbers in any nation, whose reason or invention +can find employment for their tongues, who can raise a pleasing +discourse from their own stock of sentiments and images; and those few +who have qualified themselves by speculation for general disquisitions +are soon left without an audience. The common talk of men must relate to +facts in which the talkers have, or think they have, an interest; and +where such facts cannot be known, the pleasures of society will be +merely sensual. Thus the natives of the Mahometan empires, who approach +most nearly to European civility, have no higher pleasure at their +convivial assemblies than to hear a piper, or gaze upon a tumbler; and +no company can keep together longer than they are diverted by sounds or +shows. + +All foreigners remark, that the knowledge of the common people of +England is greater than that of any other vulgar. This superiority we +undoubtedly owe to the rivulets of intelligence, which are continually +trickling among us, which every one may catch, and of which every one +partakes[1]. + +This universal diffusion of instruction is, perhaps, not wholly without +its inconveniencies; it certainly fills the nation with superficial +disputants; enables those to talk who were born to work; and affords +information sufficient to elate vanity, and stiffen obstinacy, but too +little to enlarge the mind into complete skill for full comprehension. + +Whatever is found to gratify the publick, will be multiplied by the +emulation of venders beyond necessity or use. This plenty indeed +produces cheapness, but cheapness always ends in negligence and +depravation. + +The compilation of newspapers is often committed to narrow and mercenary +minds, not qualified for the task of delighting or instructing; who are +content to fill their paper, with whatever matter, without industry to +gather, or discernment to select. + +Thus journals are daily multiplied without increase of knowledge. The +tale of the morning paper is told again in the evening, and the +narratives of the evening are bought again in the morning. These +repetitions, indeed, waste time, but they do not shorten it. The most +eager peruser of news is tired before he has completed his labour; and +many a man, who enters the coffee-house in his nightgown and slippers, +is called away to his shop, or his dinner, before he has well considered +the state of Europe. + +It is discovered by Reaumur, that spiders might make silk, if they could +be persuaded to live in peace together. The writers of news, if they +could be confederated, might give more pleasure to the publick. The +morning and evening authors might divide an event between them; a single +action, and that not of much importance, might be gradually discovered, +so as to vary a whole week with joy, anxiety, and conjecture. + +We know that a French ship of war was lately taken by a ship of England; +but this event was suffered to burst upon us all at once, and then what +we knew already was echoed from day to day, and from week to week. + +Let us suppose these spiders of literature to spin together, and inquire +to what an extensive web such another event might be regularly drawn, +and how six morning and six evening writers might agree to retail their +articles. + +On _Monday Morning_ the Captain of a ship might arrive, who left the +_Friseur_ of _France_, and the _Bull-dog_, Captain _Grim_, in sight of +one another, so that an engagement seemed unavoidable. + +_Monday Evening._ A sound of cannon was heard off Cape Finisterre, +supposed to be those of the Bull-dog and Friseur. + +_Tuesday Morning._ It was this morning reported that the Bull-dog +engaged the Friseur, yard-arm and yard-arm, three glasses and a half, +but was obliged to sheer off for want of powder. It is hoped that +inquiry will be made into this affair in a proper place. + +_Tuesday Evening._ The account of the engagement between the Bull-dog +and Friseur was premature. + +_Wednesday Morning._ Another express is arrived, which brings news, that +the Friseur had lost all her masts, and three hundred of her men, in the +late engagement; and that Captain Grim is come into harbour much +shattered. + +_Wednesday Evening._ We hear that the brave Captain Grim, having +expended his powder, proposed to enter the Friseur sword in hand; but +that his lieutenant, the nephew of a certain nobleman, remonstrated +against it. + +_Thursday Morning_. We wait impatiently for a full account of the late +engagement between the Bull-dog and Friseur. + +_Thursday Evening_. It is said the order of the Bath will be sent to +Captain Grim. + +_Friday Morning_. A certain Lord of the Admiralty has been heard to say +of a certain Captain, that if he had done his duty, a certain French +ship might have been taken. It was not thus that merit was rewarded in +the days of Cromwell. + +_Friday Evening_. There is certain information at the Admiralty, that +the Friseur is taken, after a resistance of two hours. + +_Saturday Morning_. A letter from one of the gunners of the Bull-dog +mentions the taking of the Friseur, and attributes their success wholly +to the bravery and resolution of Captain Grim, who never owed any of his +advancement to borough-jobbers, or any other corrupters of the people. + +_Saturday Evening_. Captain Grim arrived at the Admiralty, with an +account that he engaged the Friseur, a ship of equal force with his own, +off Cape Finisterre, and took her after an obstinate resistance, having +killed one hundred and fifty of the French, with the loss of ninety-five +of his own men. + + + +[1] For some pleasing remarks on this subject see De Lolme on the + constitution of England, chap. 12. We cannot retrain from quoting + here the speech of Sir James Mackintosh in the well known Peltier + cause. "A sort of prophetic instinct, if I may so speak, seems to + have revealed to her (Queen Elizabeth) the importance of that great + instrument, for rousing and guiding the minds of men, of the effects + of which she had no experience; which, since her time, has changed + the condition of the world; but which few modern statesmen have + thoroughly understood, or wisely employed; which is no doubt + connected with many ridiculous and degrading details; which has + produced, and may again produce, terrible mischiefs; but of which + the influence must after all be considered as the most certain + effect of the most efficacious cause of civilization; and which, + whether it be a blessing or a curse, is the most powerful engine + that a politician can move--I mean the Press. It is a curious fact, + that in the year of the Armada, Queen Elizabeth caused to be printed + the first Gazettes that ever appeared in England." + + + + +No. 8. SATURDAY, JUNE 3, 1758. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Sir, + +In the time of publick danger, it is every man's duty to withdraw his +thoughts in some measure from his private interest, and employ part of +his time for the general welfare. National conduct ought to be the +result of national wisdom, a plan formed by mature consideration and +diligent selection out of all the schemes which may be offered, and all +the information which can be procured. + +In a battle, every man should fight as if he was the single champion; in +preparations for war, every man should think, as if the last event +depended on his counsel. None can tell what discoveries are within his +reach, or how much he may contribute to the publick safety. + +Full of these considerations, I have carefully reviewed the process of +the war, and find, what every other man has found, that we have hitherto +added nothing to our military reputation: that at one time we have been +beaten by enemies whom we did not see; and, at another, have avoided the +sight of enemies lest we should be beaten. + +Whether our troops are defective in discipline or in courage, is not +very useful to inquire; they evidently want something necessary to +success; and he that shall supply that want will deserve well of his +country. + +_To learn of an enemy_ has always been accounted politick and +honourable; and therefore I hope it will raise no prejudices against my +project, to confess that I borrowed it from a Frenchman. + +When the Isle of Rhodes was, many centuries ago, in the hands of that +military order now called the Knights of Malta, it was ravaged by a +dragon, who inhabited a den under a rock, from which he issued forth +when he was hungry or wanton, and without fear or mercy devoured men and +beasts as they came in his way. Many councils were held, and many +devices offered, for his destruction; but as his back was armed with +impenetrable scales, none would venture to attack him. At last Dudon, a +French knight, undertook the deliverance of the island. From some place +of security, he took a view of the dragon, or, as a modern soldier would +say, _reconnoitred_ him, and observed that his belly was naked and +vulnerable. He then returned home to make his _arrangements_; and, by a +very exact imitation of nature, made a dragon of pasteboard, in the +belly of which he put beef and mutton, and accustomed two sturdy +mastiffs to feed themselves by tearing their way to the concealed flesh. +When his dogs were well practised in this method of plunder, he marched +out with them at his heels, and showed them the dragon; they rushed upon +him in quest of their dinner; Dudon battered his scull, while they +lacerated his belly; and neither his sting nor claws were able to defend +him. + +Something like this might be practised in our present state. Let a +fortification be raised on Salisbury Plain, resembling Brest, or Toulon, +or Paris itself, with all the usual preparation for defence; let the +inclosure be filled with beef and ale: let the soldiers, from some +proper eminence, see shirts waving upon lines, and here and there a +plump landlady hurrying about with pots in her hands. When they are +sufficiently animated to advance, lead them in exact order, with fife +and drum, to that side whence the wind blows, till they come within the +scent of roast meat and tobacco. Contrive that they may approach the +place fasting about an hour after dinner-time, assure them that there is +no danger, and command an attack. + +If nobody within either moves or speaks, it is not unlikely that they +may carry the place by storm; but if a panick should seize them, it will +be proper to defer the enterprise to a more hungry hour. When they have +entered, let them fill their bellies and return to the camp. + +On the next day let the same place be shown them again, but with some +additions of strength or terrour. I cannot pretend to inform our +generals through what gradations of danger they should train their men +to fortitude. They best know what the soldiers and what themselves can +bear. It will be proper that the war should every day vary its +appearance. Sometimes, as they mount the rampart, a cook may throw fat +upon the fire, to accustom them to a sudden blaze; and sometimes, by the +clatter of empty pots, they may be inured to formidable noises. But let +it never be forgotten, that victory must repose with a full belly. + +In time it will be proper to bring our French prisoners from the coast, +and place them upon the walls in martial order. At their first +appearance their hands must be tied, but they may be allowed to grin. In +a month they may guard the place with their hands loosed, provided that +on pain of death they be forbidden to strike. + +By this method our army will soon be brought to look an enemy in the +face. But it has been lately observed, that fear is received by the ear +as well as the eyes; and the Indian war-cry is represented as too +dreadful to be endured; as a sound that will force the bravest veteran +to drop his weapon, and desert his rank; that will deafen his ear, and +chill his breast; that will neither suffer him to hear orders or to feel +shame, or retain any sensibility but the dread of death. + +That the savage clamours of naked barbarians should thus terrify troops +disciplined to war, and ranged in array with arms in their hands, is +surely strange. But this is no time to reason. I am of opinion, that by +a proper mixture of asses, bulls, turkeys, geese, and tragedians, a +noise might be procured equally horrid with the war-cry. When our men +have been encouraged by frequent victories, nothing will remain but to +qualify them for extreme danger, by a sudden concert of terrifick +vociferation. When they have endured this last trial, let them be led to +action, as men who are no longer to be frightened; as men who can bear +at once the grimaces of the Gauls, and the howl of the Americans. + + + + +No. 9. SATURDAY, JUNE 10, 1758. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Sir, + +I have read you; that is a favour few authors can boast of having +received from me besides yourself. My intention in telling you of it is +to inform you, that you have both pleased and angered me. Never did +writer appear so delightful to me as you did when you adopted the name +of the _Idler_. But what a falling off was there when your first +production was brought to light! A natural irresistible attachment to +that favourable passion, _idling_, had led me to hope for indulgence +from the _Idler_, but I find him a stranger to the title. + +What rules has he proposed totally to unbrace the slackened nerve; to +shade the heavy eye of inattention; to give the smooth feature and the +uncontracted muscle; or procure insensibility to the whole animal +composition? + +These were some of the placid blessings I promised myself the enjoyment +of, when I committed violence upon myself by mustering up all my +strength to set about reading you; but I am disappointed in them all, +and the stroke of eleven in the morning is still as terrible to me as +before, and I find putting on my clothes still as painful and laborious. +Oh that our climate would permit that original nakedness which the +thrice happy Indians to this day enjoy! How many unsolicitous hours +should I bask away, warmed in bed by the sun's glorious beams, could I, +like them, tumble from thence in a moment, when necessity obliges me to +endure the torment of getting upon my legs! + +But wherefore do I talk to you upon subjects of this delicate nature? +you who seem ignorant of the inexpressible charms of the elbow-chair, +attended with a soft stool for the elevation of the feet! Thus, vacant +of thought, do I indulge the live-long day. + +You may define happiness as you please; I embrace that opinion which +makes it consist in the absence of pain. To reflect is pain; to stir is +pain; therefore I never reflect or stir but when I cannot help it. +Perhaps you will call my scheme of life indolence, and therefore think +the _Idler_ excused from taking any notice of me; but I have always +looked upon indolence and idleness as the same; and so desire you will +now and then, while you profess yourself of our fraternity, take some +notice of me, and others in my situation, who think they have a right to +your assistance; or relinquish the name. + +You may publish, burn, or destroy this, just as you are in the humour; +it is ten to one but I forget that I wrote it, before it reaches you. I +believe you may find a motto for it in Horace, but I cannot reach him +without getting out of my chair; that is a sufficient reason for my not +affixing any.--And being obliged to sit upright to ring the bell for my +servant to convey this to the penny-post, if I slip the opportunity of +his being now in the room, makes me break off abruptly[1]. + +This correspondent, whoever he be, is not to be dismissed without some +tokens of regard. There is no mark more certain of a genuine Idler, than +uneasiness without molestation, and complaint without a grievance. + +Yet my gratitude to the contributor of half a paper shall not wholly +overpower my sincerity. I must inform him, that, with all his +pretensions, he that calls for directions to be idle, is yet but in the +rudiments of idleness, and has attained neither the practice nor theory +of wasting life. The true nature of idleness he will know in time, by +continuing to be idle. Virgil tells us of an impetuous and rapid being, +that acquires strength by motion. The Idler acquires weight by lying +still. + +The _vis inertiae_, the quality of resisting all external impulses, is +hourly increasing; the restless and troublesome faculties of attention +and distinction, reflection on the past, and solicitude for the future, +by a long indulgence of idleness, will, like tapers in unelastick air, +be gradually extinguished; and the officious lover, the vigilant +soldier, the busy trader, may, by a judicious composure of his mind, +sink into a state approaching to that of brute matter; in which he shall +retain the consciousness of his own existence, only by an obtuse languor +and drowsy discontent. + +This is the lowest stage to which the favourites of idleness can +descend; these regions of undelighted quiet can be entered by few. Of +those that are prepared to sink down into their shade, some are roused +into action by avarice or ambition, some are awakened by the voice of +fame, some allured by the smile of beauty, and many withheld by the +importunities of want. Of all the enemies of idleness, want is the most +formidable. Fame is soon found to be a sound, and love a dream; avarice +and ambition may be justly suspected of privy confederacies with +idleness; for, when they have for a while protected their votaries, they +often deliver them up to end their lives under her dominion. Want always +struggles against idleness, but want herself is often overcome; and +every hour shows the careful observer those who had rather live in ease +than in plenty. + +So wide is the region of Idleness, and so powerful her influence. But +she does not immediately confer all her gifts. My correspondent, who +seems, with all his errours, worthy of advice, must be told, that he is +calling too hastily for the last effusion of total insensibility. +Whatever he may have been taught by unskilful Idlers to believe, labour +is necessary in his initiation to idleness. He that never labours may +know the pains of idleness, but not the pleasure. The comfort is, that +if he devotes himself to insensibility, he will daily lengthen the +intervals of idleness, and shorten those of labour, till at last he will +lie down to rest, and no longer disturb the world or himself by bustle +or competition. + +Thus I have endeavoured to give him that information which, perhaps, +after all, he did not want; for a true Idler often calls for that which +he knows is never to be had, and asks questions which he does not desire +ever to be answered. + +[1] By an unknown correspondent. + + + + +No. 10. SATURDAY, JUNE 17, 1758. + +Credulity, or confidence of opinion too great for the evidence from +which opinion is derived, we find to be a general weakness imputed by +every sect and party to all others, and indeed by every man to every +other man. + +Of all kinds of credulity, the most obstinate and wonderful is that of +political zealots; of men, who being numbered, they know not how or why, +in any of the parties that divide a state, resign the use of their own +eyes and ears, and resolve to believe nothing that does not favour those +whom they profess to follow. + +The bigot of philosophy is seduced by authorities which he has not +always opportunities to examine, is entangled in systems by which truth +and falsehood are inextricably complicated, or undertakes to talk on +subjects which nature did not form him able to comprehend. + +The Cartesian, who denies that his horse feels the spur, or that the +hare is afraid when the hounds approach her; the disciple of Malbranche, +who maintains that the man was not hurt by the bullet, which, according +to vulgar apprehension, swept away his legs; the follower of Berkeley, +who while he sits writing at his table, declares that he has neither +table, paper, nor fingers; have all the honour at least of being +deceived by fallacies not easily detected, and may plead that they did +not forsake truth, but for appearances which they were not able to +distinguish from it. + +But the man who engages in a party has seldom to do with any thing +remote or abstruse. The present state of things is before his eyes; and, +if he cannot be satisfied without retrospection, yet he seldom extends +his views beyond the historical events of the last century. All the +knowledge that he can want is within his attainment, and most of the +arguments which he can hear are within his capacity. + +Yet so it is, that an Idler meets every hour of his life with men who +have different opinions upon every thing past, present, and future; who +deny the most notorious facts, contradict the most cogent truths, and +persist in asserting to-day what they asserted yesterday, in defiance of +evidence, and contempt of confutation. + +Two of my companions, who are grown old in idleness, are Tom Tempest and +Jack Sneaker. Both of them consider themselves as neglected by their +parties, and therefore entitled to credit; for why should they favour +ingratitude? They are both men of integrity, where no factious interest +is to be promoted; and both lovers of truth, when they are not heated +with political debate. + +Tom Tempest is a steady friend to the house of Stuart. He can recount +the prodigies that have appeared in the sky, and the calamities that +have afflicted the nation every year from the Revolution; and is of +opinion, that, if the exiled family had continued to reign, there would +have neither been worms in our ships nor caterpillars in our trees. He +wonders that the nation was not awakened by the hard frost to a +revocation of the true king, and is hourly afraid that the whole island +will be lost in the sea. He believes that king William burned Whitehall +that he might steal the furniture; and that Tillotson died an atheist. +Of queen Anne he speaks with more tenderness, owns that she meant well, +and can tell by whom and why she was poisoned. In the succeeding reigns +all has been corruption, malice, and design. He believes that nothing +ill has ever happened for these forty years by chance or errour; he +holds that the battle of Dettingen was won by mistake, and that of +Fontenoy lost by contract; that the Victory was sunk by a private order; +that Cornhill was fired by emissaries from the council; and the arch of +Westminster-bridge was so contrived as to sink on purpose that the +nation might be put to charge. He considers the new road to Islington as +an encroachment on liberty, and often asserts that _broad wheels_ will +be the ruin of England. + +Tom is generally vehement and noisy, but nevertheless has some secrets +which he always communicates in a whisper. Many and many a time has Tom +told me, in a corner, that our miseries were almost at an end, and that +we should see, in a month, another monarch on the throne; the time +elapses without a revolution; Tom meets me again with new intelligence, +the whole scheme is now settled, and we shall see great events in +another month. + +Jack Sneaker is a hearty adherent to the present establishment; he has +known those who saw the bed into which the Pretender was conveyed in a +warming-pan. He often rejoices that the nation was not enslaved by the +Irish. He believes that king William never lost a battle, and that if he +had lived one year longer he would have conquered France. He holds that +Charles the First was a Papist. He allows there were some good men in +the reign of queen Anne, but the peace of Utrecht brought a blast upon +the nation, and has been the cause of all the evil that we have suffered +to the present hour. He believes that the scheme of the South Sea was +well intended, but that it miscarried by the influence of France. He +considers a standing army as the bulwark of liberty, thinks us secured +from corruption by septennial parliaments, relates how we are enriched +and strengthened by the electoral dominions, and declares that the +publick debt is a blessing to the nation. + +Yet, amidst all this prosperity, poor Jack is hourly disturbed by the +dread of Popery. He wonders that some stricter laws are not made against +Papists, and is sometimes afraid that they are busy with French gold +among the bishops and judges. + +He cannot believe that the Nonjurors are so quiet for nothing, they must +certainly be forming some plot for the establishment of Popery; he does +not think the present oaths sufficiently binding, and wishes that some +better security could be found for the succession of Hanover. He is +zealous for the naturalization of foreign Protestants, and rejoiced at +the admission of the Jews to the English privileges, because he thought +a Jew would never be a Papist. + + + + +No. 11. SATURDAY, JUNE 24, 1758. + + --_Nec te quaesiveris extra_. PERS. + +It is commonly observed, that when two Englishmen meet, their first talk +is of the weather; they are in haste to tell each other, what each must +already know, that it is hot or cold, bright or cloudy, windy or calm. + +There are, among the numerous lovers of subtilties and paradoxes, some +who derive the civil institutions of every country from its climate, who +impute freedom and slavery to the temperature of the air, can fix the +meridian of vice and virtue, and tell at what degree of latitude we are +to expect courage or timidity, knowledge or ignorance. + +From these dreams of idle speculation, a slight survey of life, and a +little knowledge of history, are sufficient to awaken any inquirer, +whose ambition of distinction has not overpowered his love of truth. +Forms of government are seldom the result of much deliberation; they are +framed by chance in popular assemblies, or in conquered countries, by +despotick authority. Laws are often occasional, often capricious, made +always by a few, and sometimes by a single voice. Nations have changed +their characters; slavery is now no where more patiently endured, than +in countries once inhabited by the zealots of liberty. + +But national customs can arise only from general agreement; they are not +imposed, but chosen, and are continued only by the continuance of their +cause. An Englishman's notice of the weather is the natural consequence +of changeable skies and uncertain seasons. In many parts of the world, +wet weather and dry are regularly expected at certain periods; but in +our island every man goes to sleep, unable to guess whether he shall +behold in the morning a bright or cloudy atmosphere, whether his rest +shall be lulled by a shower, or broken by a tempest. We therefore +rejoice mutually at good weather, as at an escape from something that we +feared; and mutually complain of bad, as of the loss of something that +we hoped. + +Such is the reason of our practice; and who shall treat it with +contempt? Surely not the attendant on a court, whose business is to +watch the looks of a being weak and foolish as himself, and whose vanity +is to recount the names of men, who might drop into nothing, and leave +no vacuity; nor the proprietor of funds, who stops his acquaintance in +the street to tell him of the loss of half-a-crown; nor the inquirer +after news, who fills his head with foreign events, and talks of +skirmishes and sieges, of which no consequence will ever reach his +hearers or himself. The weather is a nobler and more interesting +subject; it is the present state of the skies, and of the earth, on +which plenty and famine are suspended, on which millions depend for the +necessaries of life. + +The weather is frequently mentioned for another reason, less honourable +to my dear countrymen. Our dispositions too frequently change with the +colour of the sky; and when we find ourselves cheerful and good-natured, +we naturally pay our acknowledgments to the powers of sunshine; or, if +we sink into dulness and peevishness, look round the horizon for an +excuse, and charge our discontent upon an easterly wind or a cloudy day. + +Surely nothing is more reproachful to a being endowed with reason, than +to resign its powers to the influence of the air, and live in dependence +on the weather and the wind, for the only blessings which nature has put +into our power, tranquillity and benevolence. To look up to the sky for +the nutriment of our bodies, is the condition of nature; to call upon +the sun for peace and gaiety, or deprecate the clouds lest sorrow should +overwhelm us, is the cowardice of idleness, and the idolatry of folly. + +Yet even in this age of inquiry and knowledge, when superstition is +driven away, and omens and prodigies have lost their terrours, we find +this folly countenanced by frequent examples. Those that laugh at the +portentous glare of a comet, and hear a crow with equal tranquillity +from the right or left, will yet talk of times and situations proper for +intellectual performances, will imagine the fancy exalted by vernal +breezes, and the reason invigorated by a bright calm. + +If men who have given up themselves to fanciful credulity would confine +their conceits in their own minds, they might regulate their lives by +the barometer, with inconvenience only to themselves; but to fill the +world with accounts of intellects subject to ebb and flow, of one genius +that awakened in the spring, and another that ripened in the autumn, of +one mind expanded in the summer, and of another concentrated in the +winter, is no less dangerous than to tell children of bugbears and +goblins. Fear will find every house haunted; and idleness will wait for +ever for the moment of illumination. + +This distinction of seasons is produced only by imagination operating on +luxury. To temperance every day is bright, and every hour is propitious +to diligence. He that shall resolutely excite his faculties, or exert +his virtues, will soon make himself superior to the seasons, and may set +at defiance the morning mist, and the evening damp, the blasts of the +east, and the clouds of the south. + +It was the boast of the Stoick philosophy, to make man unshaken by +calamity, and unelated by success, incorruptible by pleasure, and +invulnerable by pain; these are heights of wisdom which none ever +attained, and to which few can aspire; but there are lower degrees of +constancy necessary to common virtue; and every man, however he may +distrust himself in the extremes of good or evil, might at least +struggle against the tyranny of the climate, and refuse to enslave his +virtue or his reason to the most variable of all variations, the changes +of the weather. + + + + +No. 12. SATURDAY, JULY 1, 1758. + +That every man is important in his own eyes, is a position of which we +all either voluntarily or unwarily at least once an hour confess the +truth; and it will unavoidably follow, that every man believes himself +important to the publick. The right which this importance gives us to +general notice and visible distinction, is one of those disputable +privileges which we have not always courage to assert; and which we +therefore suffer to lie dormant till some elation of mind, or +vicissitude of fortune, incites us to declare our pretensions and +enforce our demands. And hopeless as the claim of vulgar characters may +seem to the supercilious and severe, there are few who do not at one +time or other endeavour to step forward beyond their rank; who do not +make some struggles for fame, and show that they think all other +conveniencies and delights imperfectly enjoyed without a name. + +To get a name, can happen but to few. A name, even in the most +commercial nation, is one of the few things which cannot be bought. It +is the free gift of mankind, which must be deserved before it will be +granted, and is at last unwillingly bestowed. But this unwillingness +only increases desire in him who believes his merit sufficient to +overcome it. + +There is a particular period of life, in which this fondness for a name +seems principally to predominate in both sexes. Scarce any couple comes +together but the nuptials are declared in the newspapers with encomiums +on each party. Many an eye, ranging over the page with eager curiosity +in quest of statesmen and heroes, is stopped by a marriage celebrated +between Mr. Buckram, an eminent salesman in Threadneedle-street, and +Miss Dolly Juniper, the only daughter of an eminent distiller, of the +parish of St. Giles's in the Fields, a young lady adorned with every +accomplishment that can give happiness to the married state. Or we are +told, amidst our impatience for the event of a battle, that on a certain +day Mr. Winker, a tide-waiter at Yarmouth, was married to Mrs. Cackle, a +widow lady of great accomplishments, and that as soon as the ceremony +was performed they set out in a post-chaise for Yarmouth. + +Many are the inquiries which such intelligence must undoubtedly raise, +but nothing in this world is lasting. When the reader has contemplated +with envy, or with gladness, the felicity of Mr. Buckram and Mr. Winker, +and ransacked his memory for the names of Juniper and Cackle, his +attention is diverted to other thoughts, by finding that Mirza will not +cover this season; or that a spaniel has been lost or stolen, that +answers to the name of Ranger. + +Whence it arises that on the day of marriage all agree to call thus +openly for honours, I am not able to discover. Some, perhaps, think it +kind, by a publick declaration, to put an end to the hopes of rivalry +and the fears of jealousy, to let parents know that they may set their +daughters at liberty whom they have locked up for fear of the +bridegroom, or to dismiss to their counters and their offices the +amorous youths that had been used to hover round the dwelling of the +bride. + +These connubial praises may have another cause. It may be the intention +of the husband and wife to dignify themselves in the eyes of each other, +and, according to their different tempers or expectations, to win +affection, or enforce respect. + +It was said of the family of Lucas, that it was _noble_, for _all the +brothers were valiant, and all the sisters were virtuous_. What would a +stranger say of the _English_ nation, in which on the day of marriage +all the men are _eminent_, and all the women _beautiful, accomplished_, +and _rich_? + +How long the wife will be persuaded of the eminence of her husband, or +the husband continue to believe that his wife has the qualities required +to make marriage happy, may reasonably be questioned. I am afraid that +much time seldom passes before each is convinced that praises are +fallacious, and particularly those praises which we confer upon +ourselves. + +I should therefore think, that this custom might be omitted without any +loss to the community; and that the sons and daughters of lanes and +alleys might go hereafter to the next church, with no witnesses of their +worth or happiness but their parents and their friends; but if they +cannot be happy on the bridal day without some gratification of their +vanity, I hope they will be willing to encourage a friend of mine who +proposes to devote his powers to their service. + +Mr. Settle, a man whose _eminence_ was once allowed by the _eminent_, +and whose _accomplishments_ were confessed by the _accomplished_, in the +latter part of a long life supported himself by an uncommon expedient. +He had a standing elegy and epithalamium, of which only the first and +last were leaves varied occasionally, and the intermediate pages were, +by general terms, left applicable alike to every character. When any +marriage became known, Settle ran to the bridegroom with his +epithalamium; and when he heard of any death, ran to the heir with his +elegy. + +Who can think himself disgraced by a trade that was practised so long by +the rival of Dryden, by the poet whose "Empress of Morocco" was played +before princes by ladies of the court? + +My friend purposes to open an office in the Fleet for matrimonial +panegyricks, and will accommodate all with praise who think their own +powers of expression inadequate to their merit. He will sell any man or +woman the virtue or qualification which is most fashionable or most +desired; but desires his customers to remember, that he sets beauty at +the highest price, and riches at the next, and, if he be well paid, +throws in virtue for nothing. + + + + +No. 13. SATURDAY, JULY 8, 1758. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Dear Mr. Idler, + +Though few men of prudence are much inclined to interpose in disputes +between man and wife, who commonly make peace at the expense of the +arbitrator; yet I will venture to lay before you a controversy, by which +the quiet of my house has been long disturbed, and which, unless you can +decide it, is likely to produce lasting evils, and embitter those hours +which nature seems to have appropriated to tenderness and repose. + +I married a wife with no great fortune, but of a family remarkable for +domestick prudence, and elegant frugality. I lived with her at ease, if +not with happiness, and seldom had any reason of complaint. The house +was always clean, the servants were active and regular, dinner was on +the table every day at the same minute, and the ladies of the +neighbourhood were frightened when I invited their husbands, lest their +own economy should be less esteemed. + +During this gentle lapse of life, my dear brought me three daughters. I +wished for a son, to continue the family; but my wife often tells me, +that boys are dirty things, and are always troublesome in a house; and +declares that she has hated the sight of them ever since she saw lady +Fondle's eldest son ride over a carpet with his hobby-horse all mire. + +I did not much attend to her opinion, but knew that girls could not be +made boys; and therefore composed myself to bear what I could not +remedy, and resolved to bestow that care on my daughters, to which only +the sons are commonly thought entitled. + +But my wife's notions of education differ widely from mine. She is an +irreconcilable enemy to idleness, and considers every state of life as +idleness, in which the hands are not employed, or some art acquired, by +which she thinks money may be got or saved. + +In pursuance of this principle, she calls up her daughters at a certain +hour, and appoints them a task of needlework to be performed before +breakfast. They are confined in a garret, which has its window in the +roof, both because work is best done at a sky-light, and because +children are apt to lose time by looking about them. + +They bring down their work to breakfast, and as they deserve are +commended or reproved; they are then sent up with a new task till +dinner; if no company is expected, their mother sits with them the whole +afternoon, to direct their operations, and to draw patterns, and is +sometimes denied to her nearest relations when she is engaged in +teaching them a new stitch. + +By this continual exercise of their diligence, she has obtained a very +considerable number of laborious performances. We have twice as many +fire-skreens as chimneys, and three flourished quilts for every bed. +Half the rooms are adorned with a kind of _sutile pictures_, which +imitate tapestry. But all their work is not set out to show; she has +boxes filled with knit garters and braided shoes. She has twenty covers +for side-saddles embroidered with silver flowers, and has curtains +wrought with gold in various figures, which she resolves some time or +other to hang up. All these she displays to her company whenever she is +elate with merit, and eager for praise; and amidst the praises which her +friends and herself bestow upon her merit, she never fails to turn to +me, and ask what all these would cost, if I had been to buy them. + +I sometimes venture to tell her, that many of the ornaments are +superfluous; that what is done with so much labour might have been +supplied by a very easy purchase; that the work is not always worth the +materials; and that I know not why the children should be persecuted +with useless tasks, or obliged to make shoes that are never worn. She +answers with a look of contempt, that men never care how money goes, and +proceeds to tell of a dozen new chairs for which she is contriving +covers, and of a couch which she intends to stand as a monument of +needle-work. + +In the mean time, the girls grow up in total ignorance of every thing +past, present, and future. Molly asked me the other day, whether Ireland +was in France, and was ordered by her mother to mend her hem. Kitty +knows not, at sixteen, the difference between a Protestant and a Papist, +because she has been employed three years in filling the side of a +closet with a hanging that is to represent Cranmer in the flames. And +Dolly, my eldest girl, is now unable to read a chapter in the Bible, +having spent all the time, which other children pass at school, in +working the interview between Solomon and the queen of Sheba. + +About a month ago, Tent and Turkey-stitch seemed at a stand; my wife +knew not what new work to introduce; I ventured to propose that the +girls should now learn to read and write, and mentioned the necessity of +a little arithmetick; but, unhappily, my wife has discovered that linen +wears out, and has bought the girls three little wheels, that they may +spin huckaback for the servants' table. I remonstrated, that with larger +wheels they might despatch in an hour what must now cost them a day; but +she told me, with irresistible authority, that any business is better +than idleness; that when these wheels are set upon a table, with mats +under them, they will turn without noise, and keep the girls upright; +that great wheels are not fit for gentlewomen; and that with these, +small as they are, she does not doubt but that the three girls, if they +are kept close, will spin every year as much cloth as would cost five +pounds if one were to buy it. + + + +No 14. SATURDAY, JULY 15, 1758. + +When Diogenes received a visit in his tub from Alexander the Great, and +was asked, according to the ancient forms of royal courtesy, what +petition he had to offer; "I have nothing," said he, "to ask, but that +you would remove to the other side, that you may not, by intercepting +the sunshine, take from me what you cannot give me." + +Such was the demand of Diogenes from the greatest monarch of the earth, +which those, who have less power than Alexander, may, with yet more +propriety, apply to themselves. He that does much good, may be allowed +to do sometimes a little harm. But if the opportunities of beneficence +be denied by fortune, innocence should at least be vigilantly preserved. + +It is well known, that time once passed never returns; and that the +moment which is lost, is lost for ever. Time therefore ought, above all +other kinds of property, to be free from invasion; and yet there is no +man who does not claim the power of wasting that time which is the right +of others. + +This usurpation is so general, that a very small part of the year is +spent by choice; scarcely any thing is done when it is intended, or +obtained when it is desired. Life is continually ravaged by invaders; +one steals away an hour, and another a day; one conceals the robbery by +hurrying us into business, another by lulling us with amusement; the +depredation is continued through a thousand vicissitudes of tumult and +tranquillity, till, having lost all, we can lose no more. + +This waste of the lives of men has been very frequently charged upon the +Great, whose followers linger from year to year in expectations, and die +at last with petitions in their hands. Those who raise envy will easily +incur censure. I know not whether statesmen and patrons do not suffer +more reproaches than they deserve, and may not rather themselves +complain, that they are given up a prey to pretensions without merit, +and to importunity without shame. + +The truth is, that the inconveniencies of attendance are more lamented +than felt. To the greater number solicitation is its own reward. To be +seen in good company, to talk of familiarities with men of power, to be +able to tell the freshest news, to gratify an inferior circle with +predictions of increase or decline of favour, and to be regarded as a +candidate for high offices, are compensations more than equivalent to +the delay of favours, which, perhaps, he that begs them has hardly +confidence to expect. + +A man conspicuous in a high station, who multiplies hopes that he may +multiply dependants, may be considered as a beast of prey, justly +dreaded, but easily avoided; his den is known, and they who would not be +devoured, need not approach it. The great danger of the waste of time is +from caterpillars and moths, who are not resisted, because they are not +feared, and who work on with unheeded mischiefs, and invisible +encroachments. + +He, whose rank or merit procures him the notice of mankind, must give up +himself, in a great measure, to the convenience or humour of those who +surround him. Every man, who is sick of himself, will fly to him for +relief; he that wants to speak will require him to hear; and he that +wants to hear will expect him to speak. Hour passes after hour, the noon +succeeds to morning, and the evening to noon, while a thousand objects +are forced upon his attention, which he rejects as fast as they are +offered, but which the custom of the world requires to be received with +appearance of regard. + +If we will have the kindness of others, we must endure their follies. He +who cannot persuade himself to withdraw from society, must be content to +pay a tribute of his time to a multitude of tyrants; to the loiterer, +who makes appointments which he never keeps; to the consulter, who asks +advice which he never takes; to the boaster, who blusters only to be +praised; to the complainer, who whines only to be pitied; to the +projector, whose happiness is to entertain his friends with expectations +which all but himself know to be vain; to the economist, who tells of +bargains and settlements; to the politician, who predicts the fate of +battles and breach of alliances; to the usurer, who compares the +different funds; and to the talker, who talks only because he loves to +be talking. + +To put every man in possession of his own time, and rescue the day from +this succession of usurpers, is beyond my power, and beyond my hope. +Yet, perhaps, some stop might be put to this unmerciful persecution, if +all would seriously reflect, that whoever pays a visit that is not +desired, or talks longer than the hearer is willing to attend, is guilty +of an injury which he cannot repair, and takes away that which he cannot +give. + + + + +No. 15. SATURDAY, JULY 22, 1758. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Sir, + +I have the misfortune to be a man of business; that, you will say, is a +most grievous one; but what makes it the more so to me, is, that my wife +has nothing to do: at least she had too good an education, and the +prospect of too good a fortune in reversion when I married her, to think +of employing herself either in my shop-affairs, or the management of my +family. + +Her time, you know, as well as my own, must be filled up some way or +other. For my part, I have enough to mind in weighing my goods out, and +waiting on my customers: but my wife, though she could be of as much use +as a shopman to me, if she would put her hand to it, is now only in my +way. She walks all the morning sauntering about the shop with her arms +through her pocket-holes or stands gaping at the door-sill, and looking +at every person that passes by. She is continually asking me a thousand +frivolous questions about every customer that comes in and goes out; and +all the while that I am entering any thing in my day-book, she is +lolling over the counter, and staring at it, as if I was only scribbling +or drawing figures for her amusement. Sometimes, indeed, she will take a +needle; but as she always works at the door, or in the middle of the +shop, she has so many interruptions, that she is longer hemming a towel, +or darning a stocking, than I am in breaking forty loaves of sugar, and +making it up into pounds. + +In the afternoons I am sure likewise to have her company, except she is +called upon by some of her acquaintance: and then, as we let out all the +upper part of our house, and have only a little room backwards for +ourselves, they either keep such a chattering, or else are calling out +every moment to me, that I cannot mind my business for them. + +My wife, I am sure, might do all the little matters our family requires; +and I could wish that she would employ herself in them; but, instead of +that, we have a girl to do the work, and look after a little boy about +two years old, which, I may fairly say, is the mother's own child. The +brat must be humoured in every thing: he is therefore suffered +constantly to play in the shop, pull all the goods about, and clamber up +the shelves to get at the plums and sugar. I dare not correct him; +because, if I did, I should have wife and maid both upon me at once. As +to the latter, she is as lazy and sluttish as her mistress; and because +she complains she has too much work, we can scarcely get her to do any +thing at all: nay, what is worse than that, I am afraid she is hardly +honest; and as she is intrusted to buy-in all our provisions, the jade, +I am sure, makes a market-penny out of every article. + +But to return to my deary.--The evenings are the only time, when it is +fine weather, that I am left to myself; for then she generally takes the +child out to give it milk in the Park. When she comes home again, she is +so fatigued with walking, that she cannot stir from her chair: and it is +an hour, after shop is shut, before I can get a bit of supper, while the +maid is taken up in undressing and putting the child to bed. + +But you will pity me much more, when I tell you the manner in which we +generally pass our Sundays. In the morning she is commonly too ill to +dress herself to go to church; she therefore never gets up till noon; +and, what is still more vexatious, keeps me in bed with her, when I +ought to be busily engaged in better employment. It is well if she can +get her things on by dinner-time; and, when that is over, I am sure to +be dragged out by her either to Georgia, or Hornsey Wood, or the White +Conduit House. Yet even these near excursions are so very fatiguing to +her, that, besides what it costs me in tea and hot rolls, and sillabubs, +and cakes for the boy, I am frequently forced to take a hackney-coach, +or drive them out in a one-horse chair. At other times, as my wife is +rather of the fattest, and a very poor walker, besides bearing her whole +weight upon my arm, I am obliged to carry the child myself. + +Thus, Sir, does she constantly drawl out her time, without either profit +or satisfaction; and, while I see my neighbours' wives helping in the +shop, and almost earning as much as their husbands, I have the +mortification to find that mine is nothing but a dead weight upon me. In +short, I do not know any greater misfortune can happen to a plain +hard-working tradesman, as I am, than to be joined to such a woman, who +is rather a clog than a helpmate to him. + +I am, Sir, +Your humble servant, + +ZACHARY TREACLE.[1] + +[1]An unknown correspondent. + + + + +No. 16. SATURDAY, JULY 29, 1758. + +I paid a visit yesterday to my old friend Ned Drugget, at his +country-lodgings. Ned began trade with a very small fortune; he took a +small house in an obscure street, and for some years dealt only in +remnants. Knowing that _light gains make a heavy purse_, he was content +with moderate profit: having observed or heard the effects of civility, +he bowed down to the counter-edge at the entrance and departure of every +customer, listened without impatience to the objections of the ignorant, +and refused without resentment the offers of the penurious. His only +recreation was to stand at his own door and look into the street. His +dinner was sent him from a neighbouring alehouse, and he opened and shut +the shop at a certain hour with his own hands. + +His reputation soon extended from one end of the street to the other; +and Mr. Drugget's exemplary conduct was recommended by every master to +his apprentice, and by every father to his son. Ned was not only +considered as a thriving trader, but as a man of elegance and +politeness, for he was remarkably neat in his dress, and would wear his +coat threadbare without spotting it; his hat was always brushed, his +shoes glossy, his wig nicely curled, and his stockings without a +wrinkle. With such qualifications it was not very difficult for him to +gain the heart of Miss Comfit, the only daughter of Mr. Comfit the +confectioner. + +Ned is one of those whose happiness marriage has increased. His wife had +the same disposition with himself; and his method of life was very +little changed, except that he dismissed the lodgers from the first +floor, and took the whole house into his own hands. + +He had already, by his parsimony, accumulated a considerable sum, to +which the fortune of his wife was now added. From this time he began to +grasp at greater acquisitions, and was always ready, with money in his +hand, to pick up the refuse of a sale, or to buy the stock of a trader +who retired from business. He soon added his parlour to his shop, and +was obliged a few months afterwards to hire a warehouse. + +He had now a shop splendidly and copiously furnished with every thing +that time had injured, or fashion had degraded, with fragments of +tissues, odd yards of brocade, vast bales of faded silk, and innumerable +boxes of antiquated ribbons. His shop was soon celebrated through all +quarters of the town, and frequented by every form of ostentatious +poverty. Every maid, whose misfortune it was to be taller than her lady, +matched her gown at Mr. Drugget's; and many a maiden, who had passed a +winter with her aunt in London, dazzled the rusticks, at her return, +with cheap finery which Drugget had supplied. His shop was often visited +in a morning by ladies who left their coaches in the next street, and +crept through the alley in linen gowns. Drugget knows the rank of his +customers by their bashfulness; and, when he finds them unwilling to be +seen, invites them up stairs, or retires with them to the back window. + +I rejoiced at the increasing prosperity of my friend, and imagined that, +as he grew rich, he was growing happy. His mind has partaken the +enlargement of his fortune. When I stepped in for the first five years, +I was welcomed only with a shake of the hand; in the next period of his +life, he beckoned across the way for a pot of beer; but for six years +past, he invites me to dinner; and, if he bespeaks me the day before, +never fails to regale me with a fillet of veal. + +His riches neither made him uncivil nor negligent; he rose at the same +hour, attended with the same assiduity, and bowed with the same +gentleness. But for some years he has been much inclined to talk of the +fatigues of business, and the confinement of a shop, and to wish that he +had been so happy as to have renewed his uncle's lease of a farm, that +he might have lived without noise and hurry, in a pure air, in the +artless society of honest villagers, and the contemplation of the works +of nature. + +I soon discovered the cause of my friend's philosophy. He thought +himself grown rich enough to have a lodging in the country, like the +mercers on Ludgate-hill, and was resolved to enjoy himself in the +decline of life. This was a revolution not to be made suddenly. He +talked three years of the pleasures of the country, but passed every +night over his own shop. But at last he resolved to be happy, and hired +a lodging in the country, that he may steal some hours in the week from +business; for, says he, _when a man advances in life, he loves to +entertain himself sometimes with his own thoughts._ + +I was invited to this seat of quiet and contemplation, among those whom +Mr. Drugget considers as his most reputable friends, and desires to make +the first witnesses of his elevation to the highest dignities of a +shopkeeper. I found him at Islington, in a room which overlooked the +high road, amusing himself with looking through the window, which the +clouds of dust would not suffer him to open. He embraced me, told me I +was welcome into the country, and asked me if I did not feel myself +refreshed. He then desired that dinner might be hastened, for fresh air +always sharpened his appetite, and ordered me a toast and a glass of +wine after my walk. He told me much of the pleasures he found in +retirement, and wondered what had kept him so long out of the country. +After dinner company came in, and Mr. Drugget again repeated the praises +of the country, recommended the pleasures of meditation, and told them +that he had been all the morning at the window, counting the carriages +as they passed before him. + + + + +No. 17. SATURDAY, AUGUST 5, 1758. + + _Surge tandem Carnifex_[1]. MAECENAS AD AUGUSTUM. + +The rainy weather, which has continued the last month, is said to have +given great disturbance to the inspectors of barometers. The oraculous +glasses have deceived their votaries; shower has succeeded shower, +though they predicted sunshine and dry skies; and, by fatal confidence +in these fallacious promises, many coats have lost their gloss, and many +curls been moistened to flaccidity. + +This is one of the distresses to which mortals subject themselves by the +pride of speculation. I had no part in this learned disappointment, who +am content to credit my senses, and to believe that rain will fall when +the air blackens, and that the weather will be dry when the sun is +bright. My caution, indeed, does not always preserve me from a shower. +To be wet may happen to the genuine Idler; but to be wet in opposition +to theory, can befall only the Idler that pretends to be busy. Of those +that spin out life in trifles and die without a memorial, many flatter +themselves with high opinions of their own importance, and imagine that +they are every day adding some improvement to human life. To be idle and +to be poor have always been reproaches, and therefore every man +endeavours, with his utmost care, to hide his poverty from others, and +his idleness from himself. + +Among those whom I never could persuade to rank themselves with Idlers, +and who speak with indignation of my morning sleeps and nocturnal +rambles; one passes the day in catching spiders, that he may count their +eyes with a microscope; another erects his head, and exhibits the dust +of a marigold separated from the flower with a dexterity worthy of +Leuwenhoeck himself. Some turn the wheel of electricity; some suspend +rings to a load-stone, and find that what they did yesterday they can do +again to-day. Some register the changes of the wind, and die fully +convinced that the wind is changeable. + +There are men yet more profound, who have heard that two colourless +liquors may produce a colour by union, and that two cold bodies will +grow hot if they are mingled; they mingle them, and produce the effect +expected, say it is strange, and mingle them again. + +The Idlers that sport only with inanimate nature may claim some +indulgence; if they are useless, they are still innocent: but there are +others, whom I know not how to mention without more emotion than my love +of quiet willingly admits. Among the inferior professors of medical +knowledge, is a race of wretches, whose lives are only varied by +varieties of cruelty; whose favourite amusement is to nail dogs to +tables and open them alive; to try how long life may be continued in +various degrees of mutilation, or with the excision or laceration of the +vital parts; to examine whether burning irons are felt more acutely by +the bone or tendon; and whether the more lasting agonies are produced by +poison forced into the mouth, or injected into the veins. + +It is not without reluctance that I offend the sensibility of the tender +mind with images like these. If such cruelties were not practised, it +were to be desired that they should not be conceived; but, since they +are published every day with ostentation, let me be allowed once to +mention them, since I mention them with abhorrence. + +Mead has invidiously remarked of Woodward, that he gathered shells and +stones, and would pass for a philosopher. With pretensions much less +reasonable, the anatomical novice tears out the living bowels of an +animal, and styles himself physician, prepares himself by familiar +cruelty for that profession which he is to exercise upon the tender and +the helpless, upon feeble bodies and broken minds, and by which he has +opportunities to extend his arts of torture, and continue those +experiments upon infancy and age, which he has hitherto tried upon cats +and dogs. + +What is alleged in defence of these hateful practices, every one knows; +but the truth is, that by knives, fire, and poison, knowledge is not +always sought, and is very seldom attained. The experiments that have +been tried, are tried again; he that burned an animal with irons +yesterday, will be willing to amuse himself with burning another +to-morrow. I know not, that by living dissections any discovery has been +made by which a single malady is more easily cured. And if the knowledge +of physiology has been somewhat increased, he surely buys knowledge +dear, who learns the use of the lacteals at the expense of his humanity. +It is time that universal resentment should arise against these horrid +operations, which tend to harden the heart, extinguish those sensations +which give man confidence in man, and make the physician more dreadful +than the gout or stone. + +[1] Dr. Johnson gave this, among other mottos, to Mrs. Piozzi. They will + be inserted in this Edition in their proper places, and indicated by + an asterisk. See Mrs. Piozzi's Anecdotes, and Chalmers' British + Essayists, vol. 33. + + + + +No. 18. SATURDAY, AUGUST 12, 1758. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Sir, + +It commonly happens to him who endeavours to obtain distinction by +ridicule or censure, that he teaches others to practise his own arts +against himself; and that, after a short enjoyment of the applause paid +to his sagacity, or of the mirth excited by his wit, he is doomed to +suffer the same severities of scrutiny, to hear inquiry detecting his +faults, and exaggeration sporting with his failings. + +The natural discontent of inferiority will seldom fail to operate in +some degree of malice against him who professes to superintend the +conduct of others, especially if he seats himself uncalled in the chair +of judicature, and exercises authority by his own commission. + +You cannot, therefore, wonder that your observations on human folly, if +they produce laughter at one time, awaken criticism at another; and that +among the numbers whom you have taught to scoff at the retirement of +Drugget, there is one who offers his apology. + +The mistake of your old friend is by no means peculiar. The publick +pleasures of far the greater part of mankind are counterfeit. Very few +carry their philosophy to places of diversion, or are very careful to +analyze their enjoyments. The general condition of life is so full of +misery, that we are glad to catch delight without inquiring whence it +comes, or by what power it is bestowed. + +The mind is seldom quickened to very vigorous operations but by pain, or +the dread of pain. We do not disturb ourselves with the detection of +fallacies which do us no harm, nor willingly decline a pleasing effect +to investigate its cause. He that is happy, by whatever means, desires +nothing but the continuance of happiness, and is no more solicitous to +distribute his sensations into their proper species, than the common +gazer on the beauties of the spring to separate light into its original +rays. + +Pleasure is therefore seldom such as it appears to others, nor often +such as we represent it to ourselves. Of the ladies that sparkle at a +musical performance, a very small number has any quick sensibility of +harmonious sounds. But every one that goes has her pleasure. She has the +pleasure of wearing fine clothes, and of showing them, of outshining +those whom she suspects to envy her; she has the pleasure of appearing +among other ladies in a place whither the race of meaner mortals seldom +intrudes, and of reflecting that, in the conversations of the next +morning, her name will be mentioned among those that sat in the first +row; she has the pleasure of returning courtesies, or refusing to return +them, of receiving compliments with civility, or rejecting them with +disdain. She has the pleasure of meeting some of her acquaintance, of +guessing why the rest are absent, and of telling them that she saw the +opera, on pretence of inquiring why they would miss it. She has the +pleasure of being supposed to be pleased with a refined amusement, and +of hoping to be numbered among the votaresses of harmony. She has the +pleasure of escaping for two hours the superiority of a sister, or the +control of a husband; and from all these pleasures she concludes, that +heavenly musick is the balm of life. + +All assemblies of gaiety are brought together by motives of the same +kind. The theatre is not filled with those that know or regard the skill +of the actor, nor the ball-room by those who dance, or attend to the +dancers. To all places of general resort, where the standard of pleasure +is erected, we run with equal eagerness, or appearance of eagerness, for +very different reasons. One goes that he may say he has been there, +another because he never misses. This man goes to try what he can find, +and that to discover what others find. Whatever diversion is costly will +be frequented by those who desire to be thought rich; and whatever has, +by any accident, become fashionable, easily continues its reputation, +because every one is ashamed of not partaking it. + +To every place of entertainment we go with expectation and desire of +being pleased; we meet others who are brought by the same motives; no +one will be the first to own the disappointment; one face reflects the +smile of another, till each believes the rest delighted, and endeavours +to catch and transmit the circulating rapture. In time all are deceived +by the cheat to which all contribute. The fiction of happiness is +propagated by every tongue, and confirmed by every look, till at last +all profess the joy which they do not feel, consent to yield to the +general delusion; and when the voluntary dream is at an end, lament that +bliss is of so short a duration. + +If Drugget pretended to pleasures of which he had no perception, or +boasted of one amusement where he was indulging another, what did he +which is not done by all those who read his story? of whom some pretend +delight in conversation, only because they dare not be alone; some +praise the quiet of solitude, because they are envious of sense, and +impatient of folly; and some gratify their pride, by writing characters +which expose the vanity of life. + +I am, Sir, + +Your humble servant. + + + + +No. 19. SATURDAY, AUGUST 19, 1758. + +Some of those ancient sages that have exercised their abilities in the +inquiry after the supreme good, have been of opinion, that the highest +degree of earthly happiness is quiet; a calm repose both of mind and +body, undisturbed by the sight of folly or the noise of business, the +tumults of publick commotion, or the agitations of private interest: a +state in which the mind has no other employment, but to observe and +regulate her own motions, to trace thought from thought, combine one +image with another, raise systems of science, and form theories of +virtue. + +To the scheme of these solitary speculatists, it has been justly +objected, that if they are happy, they are happy only by being useless. +That mankind is one vast republick, where every individual receives many +benefits from the labours of others, which, by labouring in his turn for +others, he is obliged to repay; and that where the united efforts of all +are not able to exempt all from misery, none have a right to withdraw +from their task of vigilance, or to be indulged in idle wisdom or +solitary pleasures. + +It is common for controvertists, in the heat of disputation, to add one +position to another till they reach the extremities of knowledge, where +truth and falsehood lose their distinction. Their admirers follow them +to the brink of absurdity, and then start back from each side towards +the middle point. So it has happened in this great disquisition. Many +perceive alike the force of the contrary arguments, find quiet shameful, +and business dangerous, and therefore pass their lives between them, in +bustle without business, and negligence without quiet. + +Among the principal names of this moderate set is that great philosopher +Jack Whirler, whose business keeps him in perpetual motion, and whose +motion always eludes his business; who is always to do what he never +does, who cannot stand still because he is wanted in another place, and +who is wanted in many places because he stays in none. + +Jack has more business than he can conveniently transact in one house; +he has therefore one habitation near Bow-church, and another about a +mile distant. By this ingenious distribution of himself between two +houses, Jack has contrived to be found at neither. Jack's trade is +extensive, and he has many dealers; his conversation is sprightly, and +he has many companions; his disposition is kind, and he has many +friends. Jack neither forbears pleasure for business, nor omits business +for pleasure, but is equally invisible to his friends and his customers; +to him that comes with an invitation to a club, and to him that waits to +settle an account. + +When you call at his house, his clerk tells you that Mr. Whirler has +just stept out, but will be at home exactly at two; you wait at a +coffee-house till two, and then find that he has been at home, and is +gone out again, but left word that he should be at the Half-moon tavern +at seven, where he hopes to meet you. At seven you go to the tavern. At +eight in comes Mr. Whirler to tell you that he is glad to see you, and +only begs leave to run for a few minutes to a gentleman that lives near +the Exchange, from whom he will return before supper can be ready. Away +he runs to the Exchange, to tell those who are waiting for him that he +must beg them to defer the business till to-morrow, because his time is +come at the Half-moon. + +Jack's cheerfulness and civility rank him among those whose presence +never gives pain, and whom all receive with fondness and caresses. He +calls often on his friends, to tell them that he will come again +to-morrow; on the morrow he comes again, to tell them how an unexpected +summons hurries him away.--When he enters a house, his first declaration +is, that he cannot sit down; and so short are his visits, that he seldom +appears to have come for any other reason, but to say, He must go. + +The dogs of Egypt, when thirst brings them to the Nile, are said to run +as they drink for fear of the crocodiles. Jack Whirler always dines at +full speed. He enters, finds the family at table, sits familiarly down, +and fills his plate; but while the first morsel is in his mouth, hears +the clock strike, and rises; then goes to another house, sits down +again, recollects another engagement, has only time to taste the soup, +makes a short excuse to the company, and continues through another +street his desultory dinner. + +But, overwhelmed as he is with business, his chief desire is to have +still more. Every new proposal takes possession of his thoughts; he soon +balances probabilities, engages in the project, brings it almost to +completion, and then forsakes it for another, which he catches with the +same alacrity, urges with the same vehemence, and abandons with the same +coldness. + +Every man may be observed to have a certain strain of lamentation, some +peculiar theme of complaint, on which he dwells in his moments of +dejection. Jack's topick of sorrow is the want of time. Many an +excellent design languishes in empty theory for want of time. For the +omission of any civilities, want of time is his plea to others; for the +neglect of any affairs, want of time is his excuse to himself. That he +wants time, he sincerely believes; for he once pined away many months +with a lingering distemper, for want of time to attend to his health. + +Thus Jack Whirler lives in perpetual fatigue without proportionate +advantage, because he does not consider that no man can see all with his +own eyes, or do all with his own hands; that whoever is engaged in +multiplicity of business, must transact much by substitution, and leave +something to hazard; and that he who attempts to do all, will waste his +life in doing little. + + + + +No. 20. SATURDAY, AUGUST 26, 1758. + +There is no crime more infamous than the violation of truth. It is +apparent that men can be social beings no longer than they believe each +other. When speech is employed only as the vehicle of falsehood, every +man must disunite himself from others, inhabit his own cave, and seek +prey only for himself. + +Yet the law of truth, thus sacred and necessary, is broken without +punishment, without censure, in compliance with inveterate prejudice and +prevailing passions. Men are willing to credit what they wish, and +encourage rather those who gratify them with pleasure, than those that +instruct them with fidelity. + +For this reason every historian discovers his country; and it is +impossible to read the different accounts of any great event, without a +wish that truth had more power over partiality. + +Amidst the joy of my countrymen for the acquisition of Louisbourg, I +could not forbear to consider how differently this revolution of +American power is not only now mentioned by the contending nations, but +will be represented by the writers of another century. + +The English historian will imagine himself barely doing justice to +English virtue, when he relates the capture of Louisbourg in the +following manner: + +"The English had hitherto seen, with great indignation, their attempts +baffled and their force defied by an enemy, whom they considered +themselves as entitled to conquer by the right of prescription, and whom +many ages of hereditary superiority had taught them to despise. Their +fleets were more numerous, and their seamen braver, than those of +France; yet they only floated useless on the ocean, and the French +derided them from their ports. Misfortunes, as is usual, produced +discontent, the people murmured at the ministers, and the ministers +censured the commanders. + +"In the summer of this year, the English began to find their success +answerable to their cause. A fleet and an army were sent to America to +dislodge the enemies from the settlements which they had so perfidiously +made, and so insolently maintained, and to repress that power which was +growing more every day by the association of the Indians, with whom +these degenerate Europeans intermarried, and whom they secured to their +party by presents and promises. + +"In the beginning of June the ships of war and vessels containing the +land-forces appeared before Louisbourg, a place so secured by nature +that art was almost superfluous, and yet fortified by art as if nature +had left it open. The French boasted that it was impregnable, and spoke +with scorn of all attempts that could be made against it. The garrison +was numerous, the stores equal to the longest siege, and their engineers +and commanders high in reputation. The mouth of the harbour was so +narrow, that three ships within might easily defend it against all +attacks from the sea. The French had, with that caution which cowards +borrow from fear, and attribute to policy, eluded our fleets, and sent +into that port five great ships and six smaller, of which they sunk four +in the mouth of the passage, having raised batteries and posted troops +at all the places where they thought it possible to make a descent. The +English, however, had more to dread from the roughness of the sea, than +from the skill or bravery of the defendants. Some days passed before the +surges, which rise very high round that island, would suffer them to +land. At last their impatience could be restrained no longer; they got +possession of the shore with little loss by the sea, and with less by +the enemy. In a few days the artillery was landed, the batteries were +raised, and the French had no other hope than to escape from one post to +another. A shot from the batteries fired the powder in one of their +largest ships, the flame spread to the two next, and all three were +destroyed; the English admiral sent his boats against the two large +ships yet remaining, took them without resistance, and terrified the +garrison to an immediate capitulation." + +Let us now oppose to this English narrative the relation which will be +produced, about the same time, by the writer of the age of Louis XV. + +"About this time the English admitted to the conduct of affairs a man +who undertook to save from destruction that ferocious and turbulent +people, who, from the mean insolence of wealthy traders, and the lawless +confidence of successful robbers, were now sunk in despair and stupified +with horrour. He called in the ships which had been dispersed over the +ocean to guard their merchants, and sent a fleet and an army, in which +almost the whole strength of England was comprised, to secure their +possessions in America, which were endangered alike by the French arms +and the French virtue. We had taken the English fortresses by force, and +gained the Indian nations by humanity. The English, wherever they come, +are sure to have the natives for their enemies; for the only motive of +their settlements is avarice, and the only consequence of their success +is oppression. In this war they acted like other barbarians; and, with a +degree of outrageous cruelty, which the gentleness of our manners +scarcely suffers us to conceive, offered rewards by open proclamation to +those who should bring in the scalps of Indian women and children. A +trader always makes war with the cruelty of a pirate. + +"They had long looked with envy and with terrour upon the influence +which the French exerted over all the northern regions of America by the +possession of Louisbourg, a place naturally strong, and new-fortified +with some slight outworks. They hoped to surprise the garrison +unprovided; but that sluggishness, which always defeats their malice, +gave us time to send supplies, and to station ships for the defence of +the harbour. They came before Louisbourg in June, and were for some time +in doubt whether they should land. But the commanders, who had lately +seen an admiral shot for not having done what he had not power to do, +durst not leave the place unassaulted. An Englishman has no ardour for +honour, nor zeal for duty; he neither values glory nor loves his king, +but balances one danger with another, and will fight rather than be +hanged. They therefore landed, but with great loss their engineers had, +in the last war with the French, learned something of the military +science, and made their approaches with sufficient skill; but all their +efforts had been without effect, had not a ball unfortunately fallen +into the powder of one of our ships, which communicated the fire to the +rest, and, by opening the passage of the harbour, obliged the garrison +to capitulate. Thus was Louisbourg lost, and our troops marched out with +the admiration of their enemies, who durst hardly think themselves +masters of the place." + + + + +No. 21. SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 2, 1758. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Dear Mr. Idler, + +There is a species of misery, or of disease, for which our language is +commonly supposed to be without a name, but which I think is +emphatically enough denominated _listlessness_, and which is commonly +termed a want of something to do. + +Of the unhappiness of this state I do not expect all your readers to +have an adequate idea. Many are overburdened with business, and can +imagine no comfort but in rest; many have minds so placid, as willingly +to indulge a voluntary lethargy; or so narrow, as easily to be filled to +their utmost capacity. By these I shall not be understood, and therefore +cannot be pitied. Those only will sympathize with my complaint, whose +imagination is active, and resolution weak, whose desires are ardent, +and whose choice is delicate; who cannot satisfy themselves with +standing still, and yet cannot find a motive to direct their course. + +I was the second son of a gentleman, whose estate was barely sufficient +to support himself and his heir in the dignity of killing game. He +therefore made use of the interest which the alliances of his family +afforded him, to procure me a post in the army. I passed some years in +the most contemptible of all human stations, that of a soldier in time +of peace. I wandered with the regiment as the quarters were changed, +without opportunity for business, taste for knowledge, or money for +pleasure. Wherever I came, I was for some time a stranger without +curiosity, and afterwards an acquaintance without friendship. Having +nothing to hope in these places of fortuitous residence, I resigned my +conduct to chance; I had no intention to offend, I had no ambition to +delight. + +I suppose every man is shocked when he hears how frequently soldiers are +wishing for war. The wish is not always sincere; the greater part are +content with sleep and lace, and counterfeit an ardour which they do not +feel; but those who desire it most are neither prompted by malevolence +nor patriotism; they neither pant for laurels, nor delight in blood; but +long to be delivered from the tyranny of idleness, and restored to the +dignity of active beings. + +I never imagined myself to have more courage than other men, yet was +often involuntarily wishing for a war, but of a war, at that time, I had +no prospect; and being enabled, by the death of an uncle, to live +without my pay, I quitted the army, and resolved to regulate my own +motions. + +I was pleased, for a while, with the novelty of independence, and +imagined that I had now found what every man desires. My time was in my +own power, and my habitation was wherever my choice should fix it. I +amused myself for two years in passing from place to place, and +comparing one convenience with another; but being at last ashamed of +inquiry, and weary of uncertainty, I purchased a house, and established +my family. + +I now expected to begin to be happy, and was happy for a short time with +that expectation. But I soon perceived my spirits to subside, and my +imagination to grow dark. The gloom thickened every day round me. I +wondered by what malignant power my peace was blasted, till I discovered +at last that I had nothing to do. + +Time, with all its celerity, moves slowly to him whose whole employment +is to watch its flight. I am forced upon a thousand shifts to enable me +to endure the tediousness of the day. I rise when I can sleep no longer, +and take my morning-walk; I see what I have seen before, and return. I +sit down, and persuade myself that I sit down to think; find it +impossible to think without a subject, rise up to inquire after news, +and endeavour to kindle in myself an artificial impatience for +intelligence of events, which will never extend any consequence to me, +but that, a few minutes, they abstract me from myself. + +When I have heard any thing that may gratify curiosity, I am busied for +a while in running to relate it. I hasten from one place of concourse, +to another, delighted with my own importance, and proud to think that I +am doing something, though I know that another hour would spare my +labour. + +I had once a round of visits, which I paid very regularly; but I have +now tired most of my friends. When I have sat down I forget to rise, and +have more than once overheard one asking another, when I would be gone. +I perceive the company tired, I observe the mistress of the family +whispering to her servants, I find orders given to put off business till +to-morrow, I see the watches frequently inspected, and yet cannot +withdraw to the vacuity of solitude, or venture myself in my own +company. + +Thus burdensome to myself and others, I form many schemes of employment +which may make my life useful or agreeable, and exempt me from the +ignominy of living by sufferance. This new course I have long designed, +but have not yet begun. The present moment is never proper for the +change, but there is always a time in view when all obstacles will be +removed, and I shall surprise all that know me with a new distribution +of my time. Twenty years have past since I have resolved a complete +amendment, and twenty years have been lost in delays. Age is coming upon +me; and I should look back with rage and despair upon the waste of life, +but that I am now beginning in earnest to begin a reformation. + +I am, Sir, +Your humble servant, + +DICK LINGER. + + + + +No. 22. SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 16, 1758. + + _Oh nomen dulce libertatis! Oh jus eximium nostra civitatis!_ + CICERO. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Sir, + +As I was passing lately under one of the gates of this city, I was +struck with horrour by a rueful cry, which summoned me _to remember the +poor debtors_. + +The wisdom and justice of the English laws are, by Englishmen at least, +loudly celebrated: but scarcely the most zealous admirers of our +institutions can think that law wise, which, when men are capable of +work, obliges them to beg; or just, which exposes the liberty of one to +the passions of another. + +The prosperity of a people is proportionate to the number of hands and +minds usefully employed. To the community, sedition is a fever, +corruption is a gangrene, and idleness an atrophy. Whatever body, and +whatever society, wastes more than it acquires, must gradually decay; +and every being that continues to be fed, and ceases to labour, takes +away something from the publick stock. + +The confinement, therefore, of any man in the sloth and darkness of a +prison, is a loss to the nation, and no gain to the creditor. For of the +multitudes who are pining in those cells of misery, a very small part is +suspected of any fraudulent act by which they retain what belongs to +others. The rest are imprisoned by the wantonness of pride, the +malignity of revenge, or the acrimony of disappointed expectation. + +If those, who thus rigorously exercise the power which the law has put +into their hands, be asked, why they continue to imprison those whom +they know to be unable to pay them; one will answer, that his debtor +once lived better than himself; another, that his wife looked above her +neighbours, and his children went in silk clothes to the dancing-school; +and another, that he pretended to be a joker and a wit. Some will reply, +that if they were in debt, they should meet with the same treatment; +some, that they owe no more than they can pay, and need therefore give +no account of their actions. Some will confess their resolution, that +their debtors shall rot in jail; and some will discover, that they hope, +by cruelty, to wring the payment from their friends. + +The end of all civil regulations is to secure private happiness from +private malignity; to keep individuals from the power of one another; +but this end is apparently neglected, when a man, irritated with loss, +is allowed to be the judge of his own cause, and to assign the +punishment of his own pain; when the distinction between guilt and +happiness, between casualty and design, is intrusted to eyes blind with +interest, to understandings depraved by resentment. + +Since poverty is punished among us as a crime, it ought at least to be +treated with the same lenity as other crimes; the offender ought not to +languish at the will of him whom he has offended, but to be allowed some +appeal to the justice of his country. There can be no reason why any +debtor should be imprisoned, but that he may be compelled to payment; +and a term should therefore be fixed, in which the creditor should +exhibit his accusation of concealed property. If such property can be +discovered, let it be given to the creditor; if the charge is not +offered, or cannot be proved, let the prisoner be dismissed. + +Those who made the laws have apparently supposed, that every deficiency +of payment is the crime of the debtor. But the truth is, that the +creditor always shares the act, and often more than shares the guilt, of +improper trust. It seldom happens that any man imprisons another but for +debts which he suffered to be contracted in hope of advantage to +himself, and for bargains in which he proportioned his profit to his own +opinion of the hazard; and there is no reason why one should punish the +other for a contract in which both concurred. + +Many of the inhabitants of prisons may justly complain of harder +treatment. He that once owes more than he can pay, is often obliged to +bribe his creditor to patience, by increasing his debt. Worse and worse +commodities, at a higher and higher price, are forced upon him; he is +impoverished by compulsive traffick, and at last overwhelmed, in the +common receptacles of misery, by debts, which, without his own consent, +were accumulated on his head. To the relief of this distress, no other +objection can be made, but that by an easy dissolution of debts fraud +will be left without punishment, and imprudence without awe; and that +when insolvency should be no longer punishable, credit will cease. + +The motive to credit is the hope of advantage. Commerce can never be at +a stop, while one man wants what another can supply; and credit will +never be denied, while it is likely to be repaid with profit. He that +trusts one whom he designs to sue, is criminal by the act of trust: the +cessation of such insidious traffick is to be desired, and no reason can +be given why a change of the law should impair any other. + +We see nation trade with nation, where no payment can be compelled. +Mutual convenience produces mutual confidence; and the merchants +continue to satisfy the demands of each other, though they have nothing +to dread but the loss of trade. + +It is vain to continue an institution, which experience shows to be +ineffectual. We have now imprisoned one generation of debtors after +another, but we do not find that their numbers lessen. We have now +learned that rashness and imprudence will not be deterred from taking +credit; let us try whether fraud and avarice may be more easily +restrained from giving it[1]. + +I am, Sir, &c. + + +[1] This number was substituted, for some reason not ascertained, for +the keenly satirical original, which is reprinted at the end of this +volume. + +The observations of the present paper are such as would naturally +suggest themselves to an honest and benevolent mind like Johnson's; but +their political correctness may reasonably be questioned. An attempt has +been made, since his day, to provide a humane protection for the +unfortunate debtor. But has it not, at the same time, exposed the +confiding tradesman to deception and to consequent ruin, by destroying +all adequate punishment, and therefore removing every check upon vice +and prodigality? In a _Dictionnaire des Gens du Monde_, insolvency has +been, not unaptly, defined, a mode of getting rich by infallible rules! +See Idler 38, and Note. + + + + +No. 23. SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 23, 1758. + +Life has no pleasure higher or nobler than that of friendship. It is +painful to consider, that this sublime enjoyment may be impaired or +destroyed by innumerable causes, and that there is no human possession +of which the duration is less certain. + +Many have talked, in very exalted language, of the perpetuity of +friendship, of invincible constancy, and unalienable kindness; and some +examples have been seen of men who have continued faithful to their +earliest choice, and whose affection has predominated over changes of +fortune, and contrariety of opinion. + +But these instances are memorable, because they are rare. The friendship +which is to be practised or expected by common mortals, must take its +rise from mutual pleasure, and must end when the power ceases of +delighting each other. + +Many accidents therefore may happen, by which the ardour of kindness +will be abated, without criminal baseness or contemptible inconstancy on +either part. To give pleasure is not always in our power; and little +does he know himself, who believes that he can be always able to receive +it. + +Those who would gladly pass their days together may be separated by the +different course of their affairs; and friendship, like love, is +destroyed by long absence, though it may be increased by short +intermissions. What we have missed long enough to want it, we value more +when it is regained; but that which has been lost till it is forgotten, +will be found at last with little gladness, and with still less if a +substitute has supplied the place. A man deprived of the companion to +whom he used to open his bosom, and with whom he shared the hours of +leisure and merriment, feels the day at first hanging heavy on him; his +difficulties oppress, and his doubts distract him; he sees time come and +go without his wonted gratification, and all is sadness within, and +solitude about him. But this uneasiness never lasts long; necessity +produces expedients, new amusements are discovered, and new conversation +is admitted. + +No expectation is more frequently disappointed, than that which +naturally arises in the mind from the prospect of meeting an old friend +after long separation. We expect the attraction to be revived, and the +coalition to be renewed; no man considers how much alteration time has +made in himself, and very few inquire what effect it has had upon +others. The first hour convinces them that the pleasure, which they had +formerly enjoyed, is for ever at an end; different scenes have made +different impressions; the opinions of both are changed; and that +similitude of manners and sentiment is lost, which confirmed them both +in the approbation of themselves. + +Friendship is often destroyed by opposition of interest, not only by the +ponderous and visible interest which the desire of wealth and greatness +forms and maintains, but by a thousand secret and slight competitions, +scarcely known to the mind upon which they operate. There is scarcely +any man without some favourite trifle which he values above greater +attainments, some desire of petty praise which he cannot patiently +suffer to be frustrated. This minute ambition is sometimes crossed +before it is known, and sometimes defeated by wanton petulance; but such +attacks are seldom made without the loss of friendship; for whoever has +once found the vulnerable part will always be feared, and the resentment +will burn on in secret, of which shame hinders the discovery. + +This, however, is a slow malignity, which a wise man will obviate as +inconsistent with quiet, and a good man will repress as contrary to +virtue; but human happiness is sometimes violated by some more sudden +strokes. + +A dispute begun in jest upon a subject which, a moment before, was on +both parts regarded with careless indifference, is continued by the +desire of conquest, till vanity kindles into rage, and opposition +rankles into enmity. Against this hasty mischief, I know not what +security can be obtained: men will be sometimes surprised into quarrels; +and though they might both hasten to reconciliation, as soon as their +tumult had subsided, yet two minds will seldom be found together, which +can at once subdue their discontent, or immediately enjoy the sweets of +peace, without remembering the wounds of the conflict. + +Friendship has other enemies. Suspicion is always hardening the +cautious, and disgust repelling the delicate. Very slender differences +will sometimes part those whom long reciprocation of civility or +beneficence has united. Lonelove and Ranger retired into the country to +enjoy the company of each other, and returned in six weeks cold and +petulant; Ranger's pleasure was to walk in the fields, and Lonelove's to +sit in a bower; each had complied with the other in his turn, and each +was angry that compliance had been exacted. + +The most fatal disease of friendship is gradual decay, or dislike hourly +increased by causes too slender for complaint, and too numerous for +removal.--Those who are angry may be reconciled; those who have been +injured may receive a recompense: but when the desire of pleasing and +willingness to be pleased is silently diminished, the renovation of +friendship is hopeless; as, when the vital powers sink into languor, +there is no longer any use of the physician. + + + + +No. 24. SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 30, 1758. + +When man sees one of the inferior creatures perched upon a tree, or +basking in the sunshine, without any apparent endeavour or pursuit, he +often asks himself, or his companion, _On what that animal can be +supposed to be thinking_? + +Of this question, since neither bird nor beast can answer it, we must be +content to live without the resolution. We know not how much the brutes +recollect of the past, or anticipate of the future; what power they have +of comparing and preferring; or whether their faculties may not rest in +motionless indifference, till they are moved by the presence of their +proper object, or stimulated to act by corporal sensations. + +I am the less inclined to these superfluous inquiries, because I have +always been able to find sufficient matter for curiosity in my own +species. It is useless to go far in quest of that which may be found at +home; a very narrow circle of observation will supply a sufficient +number of men and women, who might be asked, with equal propriety, _On +what they can be thinking_? + +It is reasonable to believe, that thought, like every thing else, has +its causes and effects; that it must proceed from something known, done, +or suffered; and must produce some action or event. Yet how great is the +number of those in whose minds no source of thought has ever been +opened, in whose life no consequence of thought is ever discovered; who +have learned nothing upon which they can reflect; who have neither seen +nor felt any thing which could leave its traces on the memory; who +neither foresee nor desire any change in their condition, and have +therefore neither fear, hope, nor design, and yet are supposed to be +thinking beings. + +To every act a subject is required. He that thinks must think upon +something. But tell me, ye that pierce deepest into nature, ye that take +the widest surveys of life, inform me, kind shades of Malbranche and of +Locke, what that something can be, which excites and continues thought +in maiden aunts with small fortunes; in younger brothers that live upon +annuities; in traders retired from business; in soldiers absent from +their regiments; or in widows that have no children? + +Life is commonly considered as either active or contemplative; but +surely this division, how long soever it has been received, is +inadequate and fallacious. There are mortals whose life is certainly not +active, for they do neither good nor evil; and whose life cannot be +properly called contemplative, for they never attend either to the +conduct of men, or the works of nature, but rise in the morning, look +round them till night in careless stupidity, go to bed and sleep, and +rise again in the morning. + +It has been lately a celebrated question in the schools of philosophy, +_Whether the soul always thinks_! Some have defined the soul to be the +_power of thinking_; concluded that its essence consists in act; that, +if it should cease to act, it would cease to be; and that cessation of +thought is but another name for extinction of mind. This argument is +subtle, but not conclusive; because it supposes what cannot be proved, +that the nature of mind is properly defined. Others affect to disdain +subtilty, when subtilty will not serve their purpose, and appeal to +daily experience. We spend many hours, they say, in sleep, without the +least remembrance of any thoughts which then passed in our minds; and +since we can only by our own consciousness be sure that we think, why +should we imagine that we have had thought of which no consciousness +remains? + +This argument, which appeals to experience, may from experience be +confuted. We every day do something which we forget when it is done, and +know to have been done only by consequence. The waking hours are not +denied to have been passed in thought; yet he that shall endeavour to +recollect on one day the ideas of the former, will only turn the eye of +reflection upon vacancy; he will find that the greater part is +irrevocably vanished, and wonder how the moments could come and go, and +leave so little behind them. + +To discover only that the arguments on both sides are defective, and to +throw back the tenet into its former uncertainty, is the sport of wanton +or malevolent skepticism, delighting to see the sons of philosophy at +work upon a task which never can be decided. I shall suggest an argument +hitherto overlooked, which may perhaps determine the controversy. + +If it be impossible to think without materials, there must necessarily +be minds that do not always think; and whence shall we furnish materials +for the meditation of the glutton between his meals, of the sportsman in +a rainy month, of the annuitant between the days of quarterly payment, +of the politician when the mails are detained by contrary winds? + +But how frequent soever may be the examples of existence without +thought, it is certainly a state not much to be desired. He that lives +in torpid insensibility, wants nothing of a carcass but putrefaction. It +is the part of every inhabitant of the earth to partake the pains and +pleasures of his fellow-beings; and, as in a road through a country +desert and uniform, the traveller languishes for want of amusement, so +the passage of life will be tedious and irksome to him who does not +beguile it by diversified ideas. + + + + +No. 25. SATURDAY, OCTOBER 7, 1758. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Sir, + +I am a very constant frequenter of the playhouse, a place to which I +suppose the _Idler_ not much a stranger, since he can have no where else +so much entertainment with so little concurrence of his own endeavour. +At all other assemblies, he that comes to receive delight, will be +expected to give it; but in the theatre nothing is necessary to the +amusement of two hours, but to sit down and be willing to be pleased. + +The last week has offered two new actors to the town. The appearance and +retirement of actors are the great events of the theatrical world; and +their first performances fill the pit with conjecture and +prognostication, as the first actions of a new monarch agitate nations +with hope or fear. + +What opinion I have formed of the future excellence of these candidates +for dramatick glory, it is not necessary to declare. Their entrance gave +me a higher and nobler pleasure than any borrowed character can afford. +I saw the ranks of the theatre emulating each other in candour and +humanity, and contending who should most effectually assist the +struggles of endeavour, dissipate the blush of diffidence, and still the +flutter of timidity. + +This behaviour is such as becomes a people, too tender to repress those +who wish to please, too generous to insult those who can make no +resistance. A publick performer is so much in the power of spectators, +that all unnecessary severity is restrained by that general law of +humanity, which forbids us to be cruel where there is nothing to be +feared. + +In every new performer something must be pardoned. No man can, by any +force of resolution, secure to himself the full possession of his own +powers under the eye of a large assembly. Variation of gesture, and +flexion of voice, are to be obtained only by experience. + +There is nothing for which such numbers think themselves qualified as +for theatrical exhibition. Every human being has an action graceful to +his own eye, a voice musical to his own ear, and a sensibility which +nature forbids him to know that any other bosom can excel. An art in +which such numbers fancy themselves excellent, and which the publick +liberally rewards, will excite many competitors, and in many attempts +there must be many miscarriages. + +The care of the critick should be to distinguish errour from inability, +faults of inexperience from defects of nature. Action irregular and +turbulent may be reclaimed; vociferation vehement and confused may be +restrained and modulated; the stalk of the tyrant may become the gait of +the man; the yell of inarticulate distress may be reduced to human +lamentation. All these faults should be for a time overlooked, and +afterwards censured with gentleness and candour. But if in an actor +there appears an utter vacancy of meaning, a frigid equality, a stupid +languor, a torpid apathy, the greatest kindness that can be shown him is +a speedy sentence of expulsion. + +I am, Sir, &c. + +The plea which my correspondent has offered for young actors, I am very +far from wishing to invalidate. I always considered those combinations +which are sometimes formed in the playhouse, as acts of fraud or of +cruelty; he that applauds him who does not deserve praise, is +endeavouring to deceive the publick; he that hisses in malice or sport, +is an oppressor and a robber. + +But surely this laudable forbearance might be justly extended to young +poets. The art of the writer, like that of the player, is attained by +slow degrees. The power of distinguishing and discriminating comick +characters, or of filling tragedy with poetical images, must be the gift +of nature, which no instruction nor labour can supply; but the art of +dramatick disposition, the contexture of the scenes, the opposition of +characters, the involution of the plot, the expedients of suspension, +and the stratagems of surprise, are to be learned by practice; and it is +cruel to discourage a poet for ever, because he has not from genius what +only experience can bestow. + +Life is a stage. Let me likewise solicit candour for the young actor on +the stage of life. They that enter into the world are too often treated +with unreasonable rigour by those that were once as ignorant and heady +as themselves; and distinction is not always made between the faults +which require speedy and violent eradication, and those that will +gradually drop away in the progression of life. Vicious solicitations of +appetite, if not checked, will grow more importunate; and mean arts of +profit or ambition will gather strength in the mind, if they are not +early suppressed. But mistaken notions of superiority, desires of +useless show, pride of little accomplishments, and all the train of +vanity, will be brushed away by the wing of time. + +Reproof should not exhaust its power upon petty failings; let it watch +diligently against the incursion of vice, and leave foppery and futility +to die of themselves. + + + + +No. 26 SATURDAY, OCTOBER 14, 1758. + +Mr. Idler, + +I never thought that I should write any thing to be printed; but having +lately seen your first essay, which was sent down into the kitchen, with +a great bundle of gazettes and useless papers, I find that you are +willing to admit any correspondent, and therefore hope you will not +reject me. If you publish my letter, it may encourage others, in the +same condition with myself, to tell their stories, which may be, +perhaps, as useful as those of great ladies. + +I am a poor girl. I was bred in the country at a charity-school, +maintained by the contributions of wealthy neighbours. The ladies, or +patronesses, visited us from time to time, examined how we were taught, +and saw that our clothes were clean. We lived happily enough, and were +instructed to be thankful to those at whose cost we were educated. I was +always the favourite of my mistress; she used to call me to read and +show my copybook to all strangers, who never dismissed me without +commendation, and very seldom without a shilling. + +At last the chief of our subscribers, having passed a winter in London, +came down full of an opinion new and strange to the whole country. She +held it little less than criminal to teach poor girls to read and write. +They who are born to poverty, she said, are born to ignorance, and will +work the harder the less they know. She told her friends, that London +was in confusion by the insolence of servants; that scarcely a wench was +to be got for _all work_, since education had made such numbers of fine +ladies; that nobody would now accept a lower title than that of a +waiting-maid, or something that might qualify her to wear laced shoes +and long ruffles, and to sit at work in the parlour window. But she was +resolved, for her part, to spoil no more girls; those, who were to live +by their hands, should neither read nor write out of her pocket; the +world was bad enough already, and she would have no part in making it +worse. + +She was for a short time warmly opposed; but she persevered in her +notions, and withdrew her subscription. Few listen without a desire of +conviction to those who advise them to spare their money. Her example +and her arguments gained ground daily; and in less than a year the whole +parish was convinced, that the nation would be ruined, if the children +of the poor were taught to read and write. + +Our school was now dissolved: my mistress kissed me when we parted, and +told me, that, being old and helpless, she could not assist me; advised +me to seek a service, and charged me not to forget what I had learned. + +My reputation for scholarship, which had hitherto recommended me to +favour, was, by the adherents to the new opinion, considered as a crime; +and, when I offered myself to any mistress, I had no other answer than, +"Sure, child, you would not work! hard work is not fit for a pen-woman; +a scrubbing-brush would spoil your hand, child!" + +I could not live at home; and while I was considering to what I should +betake me, one of the girls, who had gone from our school to London, +came down in a silk gown, and told her acquaintance how well she lived, +what fine things she saw, and what great wages she received. I resolved +to try my fortune, and took my passage in the next week's waggon to +London. I had no snares laid for me at my arrival, but came safe to a +sister of my mistress, who undertook to get me a place. She knew only +the families of mean tradesmen; and I, having no high opinion of my own +qualifications, was willing to accept the first offer. + +My first mistress was wife of a working watch-maker, who earned more +than was sufficient to keep his family in decency and plenty; but it was +their constant practice to hire a chaise on Sunday, and spend half the +wages of the week on Richmond Hill; of Monday he commonly lay half in +bed, and spent the other half in merriment; Tuesday and Wednesday +consumed the rest of his money; and three days every week were passed in +extremity of want by us who were left at home, while my master lived on +trust at an alehouse. You may be sure, that of the sufferers, the maid +suffered most; and I left them, after three months, rather than be +starved. + +I was then maid to a hatter's wife. There was no want to be dreaded, for +they lived in perpetual luxury. My mistress was a diligent woman, and +rose early in the morning to set the journeymen to work; my master was a +man much beloved by his neighbours, and sat at one club or other every +night. I was obliged to wait on my master at night, and on my mistress +in the morning. He seldom came home before two, and she rose at five. I +could no more live without sleep than without food, and therefore +entreated them to look out for another servant. + +My next removal was to a linen-draper's, who had six children. My +mistress, when I first entered the house, informed me, that I must never +contradict the children, nor suffer them to cry. I had no desire to +offend, and readily promised to do my best. But when I gave them their +breakfast, I could not help all first; when I was playing with one in my +lap, I was forced to keep the rest in expectation. That which was not +gratified, always resented the injury with a loud outcry, which put my +mistress in a fury at me, and procured sugar-plums to the child. I could +not keep six children quiet, who were bribed to be clamorous; and was +therefore dismissed, as a girl honest, but not good-natured. + +I then lived with a couple that kept a petty shop of remnants and cheap +linen. I was qualified to make a bill, or keep a book; and being +therefore often called, at a busy time, to serve the customers, expected +that I should now be happy, in proportion as I was useful. But my +mistress appropriated every day part of the profit to some private use, +and, as she grew bolder in her thefts, at last deducted such sums, that +my master began to wonder how he sold so much, and gained so little. She +pretended to assist his inquiries, and began, very gravely, to hope that +"Betty was honest, and yet those sharp girls were apt to be +light-fingered." You will believe that I did not stay there much longer. + +The rest of my story I will tell you in another letter; and only beg to +be informed, in some paper, for which of my places, except perhaps the +last, I was disqualified by my skill in reading and writing. + +I am, Sir, + +Your very humble servant, + +BETTY BROOM. + + + + + No. 27. SATURDAY, OCTOBER 21, 1758. + +It has been the endeavour of all those whom the world has reverenced for +superior wisdom, to persuade man to be acquainted with himself, to learn +his own powers and his own weakness, to observe by what evils he is most +dangerously beset, and by what temptations most easily overcome. + +This counsel has been often given with serious dignity, and often +received with appearance of conviction; but, as very few can search deep +into their own minds without meeting what they wish to hide from +themselves, scarcely any man persists in cultivating such disagreeable +acquaintance, but draws the veil again between his eyes and his heart, +leaves his passions and appetites as he found them, and advises others +to look into themselves. + +This is the common result of inquiry even among those that endeavour to +grow wiser or better: but this endeavour is far enough from frequency; +the greater part of the multitudes that swarm upon the earth have never +been disturbed by such uneasy curiosity, but deliver themselves up to +business or to pleasure, plunge into the current of life, whether placid +or turbulent, and pass on from one point or prospect to another, +attentive rather to any thing than the state of their minds; satisfied, +at an easy rate, with an opinion, that they are no worse than others, +that every man must mind his own interest, or that their pleasures hurt +only themselves, and are therefore no proper subjects of censure. + +Some, however, there are, whom the intrusion of scruples, the +recollection of better notions, or the latent reprehension of good +examples, will not suffer to live entirely contented with their own +conduct; these are forced to pacify the mutiny of reason with fair +promises, and quiet their thoughts with designs of calling all their +actions to review, and planning a new scheme for the time to come. + +There is nothing which we estimate so fallaciously as the force of our +own resolutions, nor any fallacy which we so unwillingly and tardily +detect. He that has resolved a thousand times, and a thousand times +deserted his own purpose, yet suffers no abatement of his confidence, +but still believes himself his own master; and able, by innate vigour of +soul, to press forward to his end, through all the obstructions that +inconveniencies or delights can put in his way. + +That this mistake should prevail for a time, is very natural. When +conviction is present, and temptation out of sight, we do not easily +conceive how any reasonable being can deviate from his true interest. +What ought to be done, while it yet hangs only on speculation, is so +plain and certain, that there is no place for doubt; the whole soul +yields itself to the predominance of truth, and readily determines to do +what, when the time of action comes, will be at last omitted. + +I believe most men may review all the lives that have passed within +their observation, without remembering one efficacious resolution, or +being able to tell a single instance of a course of practice suddenly +changed in consequence of a change of opinion, or an establishment of +determination. Many, indeed, alter their conduct, and are not at fifty +what they were at thirty; but they commonly varied imperceptibly from +themselves, followed the train of external causes, and rather suffered +reformation than made it. + +It is not uncommon to charge the difference between promise and +performance, between profession and reality, upon deep design and +studied deceit; but the truth is, that there is very little hypocrisy in +the world; we do not so often endeavour or wish to impose on others, as +on ourselves; we resolve to do right, we hope to keep our resolutions, +we declare them to confirm our own hope, and fix our own inconstancy by +calling witnesses of our actions; but at last habit prevails, and those +whom we invited to our triumph laugh at our defeat. + +Custom is commonly too strong for the most resolute resolver, though +furnished for the assault with all the weapons of philosophy. "He that +endeavours to free himself from an ill habit," says Bacon, "must not +change too much at a time, lest he should be discouraged by difficulty; +nor too little, for then he will make but slow advances." This is a +precept which may be applauded in a book, but will fail in the trial, in +which every change will be found too great or too little. Those who have +been able to conquer habit, are like those that are fabled to have +returned from the realms of Pluto: + + --"Pauci, quos aequus amavit + Jupiter, atque ardens evexit ad aethera virtus." + +They are sufficient to give hope, but not security; to animate the +contest, but not to promise victory. + +Those who are in the power of evil habits must conquer them as they can; +and conquered they must be, or neither wisdom nor happiness can be +attained; but those who are not yet subject to their influence may, by +timely caution, preserve their freedom; they may effectually resolve to +escape the tyrant, whom they will very vainly resolve to conquer. + + + + +No. 28. SATURDAY, OCTOBER 28, 1758. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Sir, + +It is very easy for a man who sits idle at home, and has nobody to +please but himself, to ridicule or to censure the common practices of +mankind; and those who have no present temptation to break the rules of +propriety, may applaud his judgment, and join in his merriment; but let +the author or his readers mingle with common life, they will find +themselves irresistibly borne away by the stream of custom, and must +submit, after they have laughed at others, to give others the same +opportunity of laughing at them. + +There is no paper published by the Idler which I have read with more +approbation than that which censures the practice of recording vulgar +marriages in the newspapers. I carried it about in my pocket, and read +it to all those whom I suspected of having published their nuptials, or +of being inclined to publish them, and sent transcripts of it to all the +couples that transgressed your precepts for the next fortnight. I hoped +that they were all vexed, and pleased myself with imagining their +misery. + +But short is the triumph of malignity. I was married last week to Miss +Mohair, the daughter of a salesman; and, at my first appearance after +the wedding night, was asked, by my wife's mother, whether I had sent +our marriage to the Advertiser? I endeavoured to show how unfit it was +to demand the attention of the publick to our domestick affairs; but she +told me, with great vehemence, "That she would not have it thought to be +a stolen match; that the blood of the Mohairs should never be disgraced; +that her husband had served all the parish offices but one; that she had +lived five-and-thirty years at the same house, had paid every body +twenty shillings in the pound, and would have me know, though she was +not as fine and as flaunting as Mrs. Gingham, the deputy's wife, she was +not ashamed to tell her name, and would show her face with the best of +them; and since I had married her daughter--" At this instant entered my +father-in-law, a grave man, from whom I expected succour; but upon +hearing the case, he told me, "That it would be very imprudent to miss +such an opportunity of advertising my shop; and that when notice was +given of my marriage, many of my wife's friends would think themselves +obliged to be my customers." I was subdued by clamour on one side, and +gravity on the other, and shall be obliged to tell the town, that "three +days ago Timothy Mushroom, an eminent oilman in Seacoal-lane, was +married to Miss Polly Mohair of Lothbury, a beautiful young lady, with a +large fortune." + +I am, Sir, &c. + +Sir, + +I am the unfortunate wife of the grocer whose letter you published about +ten weeks ago, in which he complains, like a sorry fellow, that I loiter +in the shop with my needle-work in my hand, and that I oblige him to +take me out on Sundays, and keep a girl to look after the child. Sweet +Mr. Idler, if you did but know all, you would give no encouragement to +such an unreasonable grumbler. I brought him three hundred pounds, which +set him up in a shop, and bought in a stock, on which, with good +management, we might live comfortably; but now I have given him a shop, +I am forced to watch him and the shop too. I will tell you, Mr. Idler, +how it is. There is an alehouse over the way, with a ninepin alley, to +which he is sure to run when I turn my back, and there he loses his +money, for he plays at ninepins as he does every thing else. While he is +at this favourite sport, he sets a dirty boy to watch his door, and call +him to his customers; but he is so long in coming, and so rude when he +comes, that our custom falls off every day. + +Those who cannot govern themselves, must be governed. I have resolved to +keep him for the future behind his counter, and let him bounce at his +customers if he dares. I cannot be above stairs and below at the same +time, and have therefore taken a girl to look after the child, and dress +the dinner; and, after all, pray who is to blame? + +On a Sunday, it is true, I make him walk abroad, and sometimes carry the +child; I wonder who should carry it! But I never take him out till after +church-time, nor would do it then, but that, if he is left alone, he +will be upon the bed. On a Sunday, if he stays at home, he has six +meals, and, when he can eat no longer, has twenty stratagems to escape +from me to the alehouse; but I commonly keep the door locked, till +Monday produces something for him to do. + +This is the true state of the case, and these are the provocations for +which he has written his letter to you. I hope you will write a paper to +show, that, if a wife must spend her whole time in watching her husband, +she cannot conveniently tend her child, or sit at her needle. + +I am, Sir, &c. + +Sir, + +There is in this town a species of oppression which the law has not +hitherto prevented or redressed. + +I am a chairman. You know, Sir, we come when we are called, and are +expected to carry all who require our assistance. It is common for men +of the most unwieldy corpulence to crowd themselves into a chair, and +demand to be carried for a shilling as far as an airy young lady whom we +scarcely feel upon our poles. Surely we ought to be paid, like all other +mortals, in proportion to our labour. Engines should be fixed in proper +places to weigh chairs as they weigh waggons; and those, whom ease and +plenty have made unable to carry themselves, should give part of their +superfluities to those who carry them. + +I am, Sir, &c. + + + + +No. 29. SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 4, 1758. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Sir, + +I have often observed, that friends are lost by discontinuance of +intercourse without any offence on either part, and have long known, +that it is more dangerous to be forgotten than to be blamed; I therefore +make haste to send you the rest of my story, lest, by the delay of +another fortnight, the name of Betty Broom might be no longer remembered +by you or your readers. + +Having left the last place in haste, to avoid the charge or the +suspicion of theft, I had not secured another service, and was forced to +take a lodging in a back-street. I had now got good clothes. The woman +who lived in the garret opposite to mine was very officious, and offered +to take care of my room and clean it, while I went round to my +acquaintance to inquire for a mistress. I knew not why she was so kind, +nor how I could recompense her; but in a few days I missed some of my +linen, went to another lodging, and resolved not to have another friend +in the next garret. + +In six weeks I became under-maid at the house of a mercer in Cornhill, +whose son was his apprentice. The young gentleman used to sit late at +the tavern, without the knowledge of his father; and I was ordered by my +mistress to let him in silently to his bed under the counter, and to be +very careful to take away his candle. The hours which I was obliged to +watch, whilst the rest of the family was in bed, I considered as +supernumerary, and, having no business assigned for them, thought myself +at liberty to spend them my own way: I kept myself awake with a book, +and for some time liked my state the better for this opportunity of +reading. At last, the upper-maid found my book, and showed it to my +mistress, who told me, that wenches like me might spend their time +better; that she never knew any of the readers that had good designs in +their heads; that she could always find something else to do with her +time, than to puzzle over books; and did not like that such a fine lady +should sit up for her young master. + +This was the first time that I found it thought criminal or dangerous to +know how to read. I was dismissed decently, lest I should tell tales, +and had a small gratuity above my wages. + +I then lived with a gentlewoman of a small fortune. This was the only +happy part of my life. My mistress, for whom publick diversions were too +expensive, spent her time with books, and was pleased to find a maid who +could partake her amusements. I rose early in the morning, that I might +have time in the afternoon to read or listen, and was suffered to tell +my opinion, or express my delight. Thus fifteen months stole away, in +which I did not repine that I was born to servitude. But a burning fever +seized my mistress, of whom I shall say no more, than that her servant +wept upon her grave. + +I had lived in a kind of luxury, which made me very unfit for another +place; and was rather too delicate for the conversation of a kitchen; so +that when I was hired in the family of an East-India director, my +behaviour was so different, as they said, from that of a common servant, +that they concluded me a gentlewoman in disguise, and turned me out in +three weeks, on suspicion of some design which they could not +comprehend. + +I then fled for refuge to the other end of the town, where I hoped to +find no obstruction from my new accomplishments, and was hired under the +housekeeper in a splendid family. Here I was too wise for the maids, and +too nice for the footmen; yet I might have lived on without much +uneasiness, had not my mistress, the housekeeper, who used to employ me +in buying necessaries for the family, found a bill which I had made of +one day's expense. I suppose it did not quite agree with her own book, +for she fiercely declared her resolution, that there should be no pen +and ink in that kitchen but her own. + +She had the justice, or the prudence, not to injure my reputation; and I +was easily admitted into another house in the neighbourhood, where my +business was to sweep the rooms and make the beds. Here I was, for some +time, the favourite of Mrs. Simper, my lady's woman, who could not bear +the vulgar girls, and was happy in the attendance of a young woman of +some education. Mrs. Simper loved a novel, though she could not read +hard words, and therefore, when her lady was abroad, we always laid hold +on her books. At last, my abilities became so much celebrated, that the +house-steward used to employ me in keeping his accounts. Mrs. Simper +then found out, that my sauciness was grown to such a height that nobody +could endure it, and told my lady, that there never had been a room well +swept, since Betty Broom came into the house. + +I was then hired by a consumptive lady, who wanted a maid that could +read and write. I attended her four years, and though she was never +pleased, yet when I declared my resolution to leave her, she burst into +tears, and told me that I must bear the peevishness of a sick bed, and I +should find myself remembered in her will. I complied, and a codicil was +added in my favour; but in less than a week, when I set her gruel before +her, I laid the spoon on the left side, and she threw her will into the +fire. In two days she made another, which she burnt in the same manner, +because she could not eat her chicken. A third was made, and destroyed +because she heard a mouse within the wainscot, and was sure that I +should suffer her to be carried away alive. After this I was for some +time out of favour, but as her illness grew upon her, resentment and +sullenness gave way to kinder sentiments. She died, and left me five +hundred pounds; with this fortune I am going to settle in my native +parish, where I resolve to spend some hours every day in teaching poor +girls to read and write[1]. + +I am, Sir, +Your humble servant, + +BETTY BROOM. +[1] Mrs. Gardiner, a pious, sensible, and charitable woman, for whom + Johnson entertained a high respect, is said to have afforded a hint + for the story of Betty Broom, from her zealous support of a Ladies' + Charity-school, confined to females. Boswell, vol. iv. + + + + +No. 30. SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 11, 1758. + +The desires of man increase with his acquisitions; every step which he +advances brings something within his view, which he did not see before, +and which, as soon as he sees it, he begins to want. Where necessity +ends, curiosity begins; and no sooner are we supplied with every thing +that nature can demand, than we sit down to contrive artificial +appetites. + +By this restlessness of mind, every populous and wealthy city is filled +with innumerable employments, for which the greater part of mankind is +without a name; with artificers, whose labour is exerted in producing +such petty conveniencies, that many shops are furnished with +instruments, of which the use can hardly be found without inquiry, but +which he that once knows them quickly learns to number among necessary +things. + +Such is the diligence with which, in countries completely civilized, one +part of mankind labours for another, that wants are supplied faster than +they can be formed, and the idle and luxurious find life stagnate for +want of some desire to keep it in motion. This species of distress +furnishes a new set of occupations; and multitudes are busied, from day +to day, in finding the rich and the fortunate something to do. + +It is very common to reproach those artists as useless, who produce only +such superfluities as neither accommodate the body, nor improve the +mind; and of which no other effect can be imagined, than that they are +the occasions of spending money, and consuming time. + +But this censure will be mitigated, when it is seriously considered, +that money and time are the heaviest burdens of life, and that the +unhappiest of all mortals are those who have more of either than they +know how to use. To set himself free from these incumbrances, one +hurries to Newmarket; another travels over Europe; one pulls down his +house and calls architects about him; another buys a seat in the +country, and follows his hounds over hedges and through rivers; one +makes collections of shells; and another searches the world for tulips +and carnations. + +He is surely a publick benefactor who finds employment for those to whom +it is thus difficult to find it for themselves. It is true, that this is +seldom done merely from generosity or compassion; almost every man seeks +his own advantage in helping others, and therefore it is too common for +mercenary officiousness to consider rather what is grateful, than what +is right. + +We all know that it is more profitable to be loved than esteemed; and +ministers of pleasure will always be found, who study to make themselves +necessary, and to supplant those who are practising the same arts. + +One of the amusements of idleness is reading without the fatigue of +close attention, and the world therefore swarms with writers whose wish +is not to be studied, but to be read. + +No species of literary men has lately been so much multiplied as the +writers of news. Not many years ago the nation was content with one +gazette; but now we have not only in the metropolis papers for every +morning and every evening, but almost every large town has its weekly +historian, who regularly circulates his periodical intelligence, and +fills the villages of his district with conjectures on the events of +war, and with debates on the true interest of Europe. + +To write news in its perfection requires such a combination of +qualities, that a man completely fitted for the task is not always to be +found. In Sir Henry Wotton's jocular definition, _An ambassador_ is said +to be _a man of virtue sent abroad to tell lies for the advantage of his +country_; a news-writer is _a man without virtue, who writes lies at +home for his own profit_. To these compositions is required neither +genius nor knowledge, neither industry nor sprightliness; but contempt +of shame and indifference to truth are absolutely necessary. He who by a +long familiarity with infamy has obtained these qualities, may +confidently tell to-day what he intends to contradict to-morrow; he may +affirm fearlessly what he knows that he shall be obliged to recant, and +may write letters from Amsterdam or Dresden to himself. + +In a time of war the nation is always of one mind, eager to hear +something good of themselves and ill of the enemy. At this time the task +of news-writers is easy: they have nothing to do but to tell that a +battle is expected, and afterwards that a battle has been fought, in +which we and our friends, whether conquering or conquered, did all, and +our enemies did nothing. + +Scarcely any thing awakens attention like a tale of cruelty. The writer +of news never fails in the intermission of action to tell how the +enemies murdered children and ravished virgins; and, if the scene of +action be somewhat distant, scalps half the inhabitants of a province. + +Among the calamities of war may be justly numbered the diminution of the +love of truth, by the falsehoods which interest dictates, and credulity +encourages. A peace will equally leave the warriour and relater of wars +destitute of employment; and I know not whether more is to be dreaded +from streets filled with soldiers accustomed to plunder, or from garrets +filled with scribblers accustomed to lie. + + + + +No. 31. SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 18, 1758. + +Many moralists have remarked, that pride has of all human vices the +widest dominion, appears in the greatest multiplicity of forms, and lies +hid under the greatest variety of disguises; of disguises, which, like +the moon's _veil of brightness_, are both its _lustre and its shade_, +and betray it to others, though they hide it from ourselves. + +It is not my intention to degrade pride from this pre-eminence of +mischief; yet I know not whether idleness may not maintain a very +doubtful and obstinate competition. + +There are some that profess idleness in its full dignity, who call +themselves the _Idle_, as Busiris in the play calls himself the _Proud_; +who boast that they do nothing, and thank their stars that they have +nothing to do; who sleep every night till they can sleep no longer, and +rise only that exercise may enable them to sleep again; who prolong the +reign of darkness by double curtains, and never see the sun but to _tell +him how they hate his beams_; whose whole labour is to vary the posture +of indolence, and whose day differs from their night, but as a couch or +chair differs from a bed. + +These are the true and open votaries of idleness, for whom she weaves +the garlands of poppies, and into whose cup she pours the waters of +oblivion; who exist in a state of unruffled stupidity, forgetting and +forgotten; who have long ceased to live, and at whose death the +survivors can only say, that they have ceased to breathe. + +But idleness predominates in many lives where it is not suspected; for, +being a vice which terminates in itself, it may be enjoyed without +injury to others; and it is therefore not watched like fraud, which +endangers property; or like pride, which naturally seeks its +gratifications in another's inferiority. Idleness is a silent and +peaceful quality, that neither raises envy by ostentation, nor hatred by +opposition; and therefore nobody is busy to censure or detect it. + +As pride sometimes is hid under humility, idleness is often covered by +turbulence and hurry. He that neglects his known duty and real +employment, naturally endeavours to crowd his mind with something that +may bar out the remembrance of his own folly, and does any thing but +what he ought to do with eager diligence, that he may keep himself in +his own favour. + +Some are always in a state of preparation, occupied in previous +measures, forming plans, accumulating materials, and providing for the +main affair. These are certainly under the secret power of idleness. +Nothing is to be expected from the workman whose tools are for ever to +be sought. I was once told by a great master, that no man ever excelled +in painting, who was eminently curious about pencils and colours. + +There are others to whom idleness dictates another expedient, by which +life may be passed unprofitably away without the tediousness of many +vacant hours. The art is, to fill the day with petty business, to have +always something in hand which may raise curiosity, but not solicitude, +and keep the mind in a state of action, but not of labour. + +This art has for many years been practised by my old friend Sober with +wonderful success. Sober is a man of strong desires and quick +imagination, so exactly balanced by the love of ease, that they can +seldom stimulate him to any difficult undertaking; they have, however, +so much power, that they will not suffer him to lie quite at rest; and +though they do not make him sufficiently useful to others, they make him +at least weary of himself. + +Mr. Sober's chief pleasure is conversation; there is no end of his talk +or his attention; to speak or to hear is equally pleasing; for he still +fancies that he is teaching or learning something, and is free for the +time from his own reproaches. + +But there is one time at night when he must go home, that his friends +may sleep; and another time in the morning, when all the world agrees to +shut out interruption. These are the moments of which poor Sober +trembles at the thought. But the misery of these tiresome intervals he +has many means of alleviating. He has persuaded himself that the manual +arts are undeservedly overlooked; he has observed in many trades the +effects of close thought, and just ratiocination. From speculation he +proceeded to practice, and supplied himself with the tools of a +carpenter, with which he mended his coal-box very successfully, and +which he still continues to employ, as he finds occasion. + +He has attempted at other times the crafts of the shoemaker, tinman, +plumber, and potter; in all these arts he has failed, and resolves to +qualify himself for them by better information. But his daily amusement +is chymistry. He has a small furnace, which he employs in distillation, +and which has long been the solace of his life. He draws oils and +waters, and essences and spirits, which he knows to be of no use; sits +and counts the drops, as they come from his retort, and forgets that, +whilst a drop is falling, a moment flies away. + +Poor Sober! I have often teased him with reproof, and he has often +promised reformation; for no man is so much open to conviction as the +Idler, but there is none on whom it operates so little. What will be the +effect of this paper I know not; perhaps, he will read it and laugh, and +light the fire in his furnace; but my hope is, that he will quit his +trifles, and betake himself to rational and useful diligence[1]. + +[1] In Mr. Sober, we may recognise traits of Dr. Johnson's own + character. No. 67 of the Idler is another portrait of him. + + + + +No. 32. SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 25, 1758. + +Among the innumerable mortifications that waylay human arrogance on +every side, may well be reckoned our ignorance of the most common +objects and effects, a defect of which we become more sensible, by every +attempt to supply it. Vulgar and inactive minds confound familiarity +with knowledge, and conceive themselves informed of the whole nature of +things when they are shown their form or told their use; but the +speculatist, who is not content with superficial views, harasses himself +with fruitless curiosity, and still as he inquires more, perceives only +that he knows less. + +Sleep is a state in which a great part of every life is passed. No +animal has been yet discovered, whose existence is not varied with +intervals of insensibility; and some late philosophers have extended the +empire of sleep over the vegetable world. + +Yet of this change, so frequent, so great, so general, and so necessary, +no searcher has yet found either the efficient or final cause; or can +tell by what power the mind and body are thus chained down in +irresistible stupefaction; or what benefits the animal receives from +this alternate suspension of its active powers. + +Whatever may be the multiplicity or contrariety of opinions upon this +subject, nature has taken sufficient care that theory shall have little +influence on practice. The most diligent inquirer is not able long to +keep his eyes open; the most eager disputant will begin about midnight +to desert his argument; and, once in four-and-twenty hours, the gay and +the gloomy, the witty and the dull, the clamorous and the silent, the +busy and the idle, are all overpowered by the gentle tyrant, and all lie +down in the equality of sleep. + +Philosophy has often attempted to repress insolence, by asserting, that +all conditions are levelled by death; a position which, however it may +deject the happy, will seldom afford much comfort to the wretched. It is +far more pleasing to consider, that, sleep is equally a leveller with +death; that the time is never at a great distance, when the balm of rest +shall be diffused alike upon every head, when the diversities of life +shall stop their operation, and the high and the low shall lie down +together[1]. + +It is somewhere recorded of Alexander, that in the pride of conquests, +and intoxication of flattery, he declared that he only perceived himself +to be a man by the necessity of sleep. Whether he considered sleep as +necessary to his mind or body, it was indeed a sufficient evidence of +human infirmity; the body which required such frequency of renovation, +gave but faint promises of immortality; and the mind which, from time to +time, sunk gladly into insensibility, had made no very near approaches +to the felicity of the supreme and self-sufficient nature. + +I know not what can tend more to repress all the passions, that disturb +the peace of the world, than the consideration that there is no height +of happiness or honour, from which man does not eagerly descend to a +state of unconscious repose; that the best condition of life is such, +that we contentedly quit its good to be disentangled from its evils; +that in a few hours splendour fades before the eye, and praise itself +deadens in the ear; the senses withdraw from their objects, and reason +favours the retreat. + +What then are the hopes and prospects of covetousness, ambition, and +rapacity? Let him that desires most have all his desires gratified, he +never shall attain a state which he can, for a day and a night, +contemplate with satisfaction, or from which, if he had the power of +perpetual vigilance, he would not long for periodical separations. + +All envy would be extinguished, if it were universally known that there +are none to be envied, and surely none can be much envied who are not +pleased with themselves. There is reason to suspect, that the +distinctions of mankind have more show than value, when it is found that +all agree to be weary alike of pleasures and of cares; that the powerful +and the weak, the celebrated and obscure, join in one common wish, and +implore from nature's hand the nectar of oblivion. + +Such is our desire of abstraction from ourselves, that very few are +satisfied with the quantity of stupefaction which the needs of the body +force upon the mind. Alexander himself added intemperance to sleep, and +solaced with the fumes of wine the sovereignty of the world: and almost +every man has some art by which he steals his thoughts away from his +present state. + +It is not much of life that is spent in close attention to any important +duty. Many hours of every day are suffered to fly away without any +traces left upon the intellects. We suffer phantoms to rise up before +us, and amuse ourselves with the dance of airy images, which, after a +time, we dismiss for ever, and know not how we have been busied. + +Many have no happier moments than those that they pass in solitude, +abandoned to their own imagination, which sometimes puts sceptres in +their hands or mitres on their heads, shifts the scene of pleasure with +endless variety, bids all the forms of beauty sparkle before them, and +gluts them with every change of visionary luxury. + +It is easy in these semi-slumbers to collect all the possibilities of +happiness, to alter the course of the sun, to bring back the past, and +anticipate the future, to unite all the beauties of all seasons, and all +the blessings of all climates, to receive and bestow felicity, and +forget that misery is the lot of man. All this is a voluntary dream, a +temporary recession from the realities of life to airy fictions; and +habitual subjection of reason to fancy. + +Others are afraid to be alone, and amuse themselves by a perpetual +succession of companions: but the difference is not great; in solitude +we have our dreams to ourselves, and in company we agree to dream in +concert. The end sought in both is forgetfulness of ourselves. + +[1] "For half their life," says Aristotle, "the happy differ not from + the wretched.".--Nichom. Ethic, i. 13. + + [Greek: Hypn odunas adaaes, Hypne d algeon + Euaaes haemin elthois, + Euaion, euaion anax.] Soph. Philoct. 827. + + + + + No. 33. SATURDAY, DECEMBER 2, 1758. + +[I hope the author of the following letter[1] will excuse the omission +of some parts, and allow me to remark, that the Journal of the Citizen +in the Spectator has almost precluded the attempt of any future writer.] + + --_Non ita Romuli Praescriptum, et intonsi Catonis +Auspiciis, veterumque normâ_. HOR. Lib. ii. Ode xv. 10. + +Sir, + +You have often solicited correspondence. I have sent you the Journal of +a Senior Fellow, or Genuine Idler, just transmitted from Cambridge by a +facetious correspondent, and warranted to have been transcribed from the +common-place book of the journalist. + +Monday, Nine o'Clock. Turned off my bed-maker for waking me at eight. +Weather rainy. Consulted my weather-glass. No hopes of a ride before +dinner. + +Ditto, Ten. After breakfast, transcribed half a sermon from Dr. Hickman. +N.B. Never to transcribe any more from Calamy; Mrs. Pilcocks, at my +curacy, having one volume of that author lying in her parlour-window. + +Ditto, Eleven. Went down into my cellar. Mem. My Mountain will be fit to +drink in a month's time. N.B. To remove the five-year old port into the +new bin on the left hand. + +Ditto, Twelve. Mended a pen. Looked at my weather-glass again. +Quicksilver very low. Shaved. Barber's hand shakes. + +Ditto, One. Dined alone in my room on a sole. N.B. The shrimp-sauce not +so good as Mr. H. of Peterhouse and I used to eat in London last winter +at the Mitre in Fleet-street. Sat down to a pint of Madeira. Mr. H. +surprised me over it. We finished two bottles of port together, and were +very cheerful. Mem. To dine with Mr. H. at Peterhouse next Wednesday. +One of the dishes a leg of pork and pease, by my desire. + +Ditto, Six. Newspaper in the common room. + +Ditto, Seven. Returned to my room. Made a tiff of warm punch, and to bed +before nine; did not fall asleep till ten, a young fellow commoner being +very noisy over my head. + +Tuesday, Nine, Rose squeamish. A fine morning. Weather-glass very high. + +Ditto, Ten. Ordered my horse, and rode to the five-mile stone on the +Newmarket road. Appetite gets better. A pack of hounds, in full cry, +crossed the road, and startled my horse. + +Ditto, Twelve. Drest. Found a letter on my table to be in London the +19th inst. Bespoke a new wig. + +Ditto, One. At dinner in the hall. Too much water in the soup. Dr. Dry +always orders the beef to be salted too much for me. + +Ditto, Two. In the common room. Dr. Dry gave us an instance of a +gentleman who kept the gout out of his stomach by drinking old Madeira. +Conversation chiefly on the expeditions. Company broke up at four. Dr. +Dry and myself played at backgammon for a brace of snipes. Won. + +Ditto, Five. At the coffee-house. Met Mr. H. there. Could not get a +sight of the Monitor. + +Ditto, Seven. Returned home, and stirred my fire. Went to the common +room, and supped on the snipes with Dr. Dry. + +Ditto, Eight. Began the evening in the common room. Dr. Dry told several +stories. Were very merry. Our new fellow, that studies physick, very +talkative toward twelve. Pretends he will bring the youngest Miss ---- to +drink tea with me soon. Impertinent blockhead! + +Wednesday, Nine. Alarmed with a pain in my ankle. Q. The gout? Fear I +can't dine at Peterhouse; but I hope a ride will set all to rights. +Weather-glass below Fair. + +Ditto, Ten. Mounted my horse, though the weather suspicious. Pain in my +ankle entirely gone. Caught in a shower coming back. Convinced that my +weather-glass is the best in Cambridge. + +Ditto, Twelve. Drest. Sauntered up to the Fish-monger's hill. Met Mr. H. +and went with him to Peterhouse. Cook made us wait thirty-six minutes +beyond the time. The company, some of my Emmanuel friends. For dinner, a +pair of soles, a leg of pork and pease, among other things. Mem. +Pease-pudding not boiled enough. Cook reprimanded and sconced in my +presence. + +Ditto, after Dinner. Pain in my ankle returns. Dull all the afternoon. +Rallied for being no company. Mr. H.'s account of the accommodations on +the road in his Bath journey. + +Ditto, Six. Got into spirits. Never was more chatty. We sat late at +whist. Mr. H. and self agreed at parting to take a gentle ride, and dine +at the old house on the London road to-morrow. + +Thursday, Nine. My sempstress. She has lost the measure of my wrist. +Forced to be measured again. The baggage has got a trick of smiling. + +Ditto, Ten to Eleven. Made some rappee snuff. Read the magazines. +Received a present of pickles from Miss Pilcocks. Mem. To send in return +some collared eel, which I know both the old lady and miss are fond of. + +Ditto, Eleven. Glass very high. Mounted at the gate with Mr. H. Horse +skittish, and wants exercise. Arrive at the old house. All the +provisions bespoke by some rakish fellow-commoner in the next room, who +had been on a scheme to Newmarket. Could get nothing but mutton-chops +off the worst end. Port very new. Agree to try some other house +to-morrow. + +Here the journal breaks off: for the next morning, as my friend informs +me, our genial academick was waked with a severe fit of the gout; and, +at present, enjoys all the dignity of that disease. But I believe we +have lost nothing by this interruption: since a continuation of the +remainder of the journal, through the remainder of the week, would most +probably have exhibited nothing more than a repeated relation of the +same circumstances of idling and luxury. + +I hope it will not be concluded, from this specimen of academick life, +that I have attempted to decry our universities. If literature is not +the essential requisite of the modern academick, I am yet persuaded, +that Cambridge and Oxford, however degenerated, surpass the fashionable +_academies_ of our metropolis, and the _gymnasia_ of foreign countries. +The number of learned persons in these celebrated seats is still +considerable, and more conveniencies and opportunities for study still +subsist in them, than in any other place. There is at least one very +powerful incentive to learning; I mean the GENIUS _of the place_. It is +a sort of inspiring deity, which every youth of quick sensibility and +ingenious disposition creates to himself, by reflecting, that he is +placed under those venerable walls, where a HOOKER and a HAMMOND, a +BACON and a NEWTON, once pursued the same course of science, and from +whence they soared to the most elevated heights of literary fame. This +is that incitement which Tully, according to his own testimony, +experienced at Athens, when he contemplated the porticos where Socrates +sat, and the laurel-groves where Plato disputed[2]. + +But there are other circumstances, and of the highest importance, which +render our colleges superior to all other places of education. Their +institutions, although somewhat fallen from their primaeval simplicity, +are such as influence, in a particular manner, the moral conduct of +their youth; and in this general depravity of manners and laxity of +principles, pure religion is no where more strongly inculcated. The +_academies_, as they are presumptuously styled, are too low to be +mentioned; and foreign seminaries are likely to prejudice the unwary +mind with Calvinism. But English universities render their students +virtuous, at least by excluding all opportunities of vice; and, by +teaching them the principles of the Church of England, confirm them in +those of true Christianity. + +[1] Mr. Thomas Warton. + +[2] A rich assemblage of examples, of the "influence of perceptible + objects in reviving former thoughts and former feelings," is + collected in Dr. Brown's Philosophy of the Human Mind, vol. 2, + Lecture 38. + + + + +No. 34. SATURDAY, DECEMBER 9, 1758. + +To illustrate one thing by its resemblance to another, has been always +the most popular and efficacious art of instruction. There is indeed no +other method of teaching that of which any one is ignorant, but by means +of something already known; and a mind so enlarged by contemplation, and +inquiry, that it has always many objects within its view, will seldom be +long without some near and familiar image through which an easy +transition may be made to truths more distant and obscure. + +Of the parallels which have been drawn by wit and curiosity, some are +literal and real, as between poetry and painting, two arts which pursue +the same end, by the operation of the same mental faculties, and which +differ only as the one represents things by marks permanent and natural, +the other by signs accidental and arbitrary. The one, therefore, is more +easily and generally understood, since similitude of form is immediately +perceived; the other is capable of conveying more ideas, for men have +thought and spoken of many things which they do not see. + +Other parallels are fortuitous and fanciful, yet these have sometimes +been extended to many particulars of resemblance by a lucky concurrence +of diligence and chance. The animal body is composed of many members, +united under the direction of one mind: any number of individuals, +connected for some common purpose, is therefore called a body. From this +participation of the same appellation arose the comparison of the body +natural and body politick, of which, how far soever it has been deduced, +no end has hitherto been found. + +In these imaginary similitudes, the same word is used at once in its +primitive and metaphorical sense. Thus health, ascribed to the body +natural, is opposed to sickness; but attributed to the body politick +stands as contrary to adversity. These parallels therefore have more of +genius, but less of truth; they often please, but they never convince. + +Of this kind is a curious speculation frequently indulged by a +philosopher of my acquaintance, who had discovered, that the qualities +requisite to conversation are very exactly represented by a bowl of +punch. + +Punch, says this profound investigator, is a liquor compounded of spirit +and acid juices, sugar and water. The spirit, volatile and fiery, is the +proper emblem of vivacity and wit; the acidity of the lemon will very +aptly figure pungency of raillery, and acrimony of censure; sugar is the +natural representative of luscious adulation and gentle complaisance; +and water is the proper hieroglyphick of easy prattle, innocent and +tasteless. + +Spirit alone is too powerful for use. It will produce madness rather +than merriment; and instead of quenching thirst will inflame the blood. +Thus wit, too copiously poured out, agitates the hearer with emotions +rather violent than pleasing; every one shrinks from the force of its +oppression, the company sits entranced and overpowered; all are +astonished, but nobody is pleased. + +The acid juices give this genial liquor all its power of stimulating the +palate. Conversation would become dull and vapid, if negligence were not +sometimes roused, and sluggishness quickened, by due severity of +reprehension. But acids unmixed will distort the face and torture the +palate; and he that has no other qualities than penetration and +asperity, he whose constant employment is detection and censure, who +looks only to find faults, and speaks only to punish them, will soon be +dreaded, hated and avoided. + +The taste of sugar is generally pleasing, but it cannot long be eaten by +itself. Thus meekness and courtesy will always recommend the first +address, but soon pall and nauseate, unless they are associated with +more sprightly qualities. The chief use of sugar is to temper the taste +of other substances; and softness of behaviour, in the same manner, +mitigates the roughness of contradiction, and allays the bitterness of +unwelcome truth. + +Water is the universal vehicle by which are conveyed the particles +necessary to sustenance and growth, by which thirst is quenched, and all +the wants of life and nature are supplied. Thus all the business of the +world is transacted by artless and easy talk, neither sublimed by fancy, +nor discoloured by affectation, without either the harshness of satire, +or the lusciousness of flattery. By this limpid vein of language, +curiosity is gratified, and all the knowledge is conveyed which one man +is required to impart for the safety or convenience of another. Water is +the only ingredient in punch which can be used alone, and with which man +is content till fancy has framed an artificial want. Thus while we only +desire to have our ignorance informed, we are most delighted with the +plainest diction; and it is only in the moments of idleness or pride, +that we call for the gratifications of wit or flattery. + +He only will please long, who, by tempering the acidity of satire with +the sugar of civility, and allaying the heat of wit with the frigidity +of humble chat, can make the true punch of conversation; and, as that +punch can be drunk in the greatest quantity which has the largest +proportion of water, so that companion will be oftenest welcome, whose +talk flows out with inoffensive copiousness, and unenvied insipidity. + + + + +No. 35. SATURDAY, DECEMBER 16, 1758. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Mr. Idler, + +If it be difficult to persuade the idle to be busy, it is likewise, as +experience has taught me, not easy to convince the busy that it is +better to be idle. When you shall despair of stimulating sluggishness to +motion, I hope you will turn your thoughts towards the means of stilling +the bustle of pernicious activity. + +I am the unfortunate husband of a _buyer of bargains_. My wife has +somewhere heard, that a good housewife _never_ has any thing to +_purchase when it is wanted_. This maxim is often in her mouth, and +always in her head. She is not one of those philosophical talkers that +speculate without practice; and learn sentences of wisdom only to repeat +them: she is always making additions to her stores; she never looks into +a broker's shop, but she spies something that may be wanted some time; +and it is impossible to make her pass the door of a house where she +hears _goods selling by auction_. + +Whatever she thinks cheap, she holds it the duty of an economist to buy; +in consequence of this maxim, we are encumbered on every side with +useless lumber. The servants can scarcely creep to their beds through +the chests and boxes that surround them. The carpenter is employed once +a week in building closets, fixing cupboards, and fastening shelves; and +my house has the appearance of a ship stored for a voyage to the +colonies. + +I had often observed that advertisements set her on fire; and therefore, +pretending to emulate her laudable frugality, I forbade the newspaper to +be taken any longer; but my precaution is vain; I know not by what +fatality, or by what confederacy, every catalogue of _genuine furniture_ +comes to her hand, every advertisement of a warehouse newly opened, is +in her pocketbook, and she knows before any of her neighbours when the +stock of any man _leaving off trade_ is to be _sold cheap for ready +money_. + +Such intelligence is to my dear-one the Syren's song. No engagement, no +duty, no interest, can withhold her from a sale, from which she always +returns congratulating herself upon her dexterity at a bargain; the +porter lays down his burden in the hall; she displays her new +acquisitions, and spends the rest of the day in contriving where they +shall be put. + +As she cannot bear to have any thing uncomplete, one purchase +necessitates another; she has twenty feather-beds more than she can use, +and a late sale has supplied her with a proportionable number of Witney +blankets, a large roll of linen for sheets, and five quilts for every +bed, which she bought because the seller told her, that if she would +clear his hands he would let her have a bargain. + +Thus by hourly encroachments my habitation is made narrower and +narrower; the dining-room is so crowded with tables, that dinner +scarcely can be served; the parlour is decorated with so many piles of +china, that I dare not step within the door; at every turn of the stairs +I have a clock, and half the windows of the upper floors are darkened, +that shelves may be set before them. + +This, however, might be borne, if she would gratify her own inclinations +without opposing mine. But I, who am idle, am luxurious, and she +condemns me to live upon salt provisions. She knows the loss of buying +in small quantities, we have, therefore, whole hogs and quarters of +oxen. Part of our meat is tainted before it is eaten, and part is thrown +away because it is spoiled; but she persists in her system, and will +never buy any thing by single penny-worths. + +The common vice of those who are still grasping at more, is to neglect +that which they already possess; but from this failing my charmer is +free. It is the great care of her life that the pieces of beef should be +boiled in the order in which they are bought; that the second bag of +pease should not be opened till the first be eaten; that every +feather-bed should be lain on in its turn; that the carpets should be +taken out of the chests once a month and brushed, and the rolls of linen +opened now and then before the fire. She is daily inquiring after the best +traps for mice, and keeps the rooms always scented by fumigations to +destroy the moths. She employs workmen, from time to time, to adjust six +clocks that never go, and clean five jacks that rust in the garret; and +a woman in the next alley lives by scouring the brass and pewter, which +are only laid up to tarnish again. + +She is always imagining some distant time, in which she shall use +whatever she accumulates: she has four looking-glasses which she cannot +hang up in her house, but which will be handsome in more lofty rooms; +and pays rent for the place of a vast copper in some warehouse, because, +when we live in the country, we shall brew our own beer. + +Of this life I have long been weary, but know not how to change it: all +the married men whom I consult advise me to have patience; but some old +bachelors are of opinion that, since she loves sales so well, she should +have a sale of her own; and I have, I think, resolved to open her +hoards, and advertise an auction. + +I am, Sir, + +Your very humble servant, + +PETER PLENTY. + + + + +No. 30. SATURDAY, DECEMBER 23, 1758. + +The great differences that disturb the peace of mankind are not about +ends, but means. We have all the same general desires, but how those +desires shall be accomplished will for ever be disputed. The ultimate +purpose of government is temporal, and that of religion is eternal +happiness. Hitherto we agree; but here we must part, to try, according +to the endless varieties of passion and understanding combined with one +another, every possible form of government, and every imaginable tenet +of religion. + +We are told by Cumberland that _rectitude_, applied to action or +contemplation, is merely metaphorical; and that as a _right_ line +describes the shortest passage from point to point, so a _right_ action +effects a good design by the fewest means; and so likewise a _right_ +opinion is that which connects distant truths by the shortest train of +intermediate propositions. + +To find the nearest way from truth to truth, or from purpose to effect, +not to use more instruments where fewer will be sufficient; not to move +by wheels and levers what will give way to the naked hand, is the great +proof of a healthful and vigorous mind, neither feeble with helpless +ignorance, nor overburdened with unwieldy knowledge. + +But there are men who seem to think nothing so much the characteristick +of a genius, as to do common things in an uncommon manner; like +Hudibras, to _tell the clock by algebra_; or like the lady in Dr. +Young's satires, _to drink tea by stratagem_; to quit the beaten track, +only because it is known, and take a new path, however crooked or rough, +because the straight was found out before. + +Every man speaks and writes with intent to be understood; and it can +seldom happen but he that understands himself, might convey his notions +to another, if, content to be understood, he did not seek to be admired; +but when once he begins to contrive how his sentiments may be received, +not with most ease to his reader, but with most advantage to himself, he +then transfers his consideration from words to sounds, from sentences to +periods, and as he grows more elegant becomes less intelligible. + +It is difficult to enumerate every species of authors whose labours +counteract themselves; the man of exuberance and copiousness, who +diffuses every thought through so many diversities of expression, that +it is lost like water in a mist; the ponderous dictator of sentences, +whose notions are delivered in the lump, and are, like uncoined bullion, +of more weight than use; the liberal illustrator, who shows by examples +and comparisons what was clearly seen when it was first proposed; and +the stately son of demonstration, who proves with mathematical formality +what no man has yet pretended to doubt. + +There is a mode of style for which I know not that the masters of +oratory have yet found a name; a style by which the most evident truths +are so obscured that they can no longer be perceived, and the most +familiar propositions so disguised that they cannot be known. Every +other kind of eloquence is the dress of sense; but this is the mask by +which a true master of his art will so effectually conceal it, that a +man will as easily mistake his own positions, if he meets them thus +transformed, as he may pass in a masquerade his nearest acquaintance. + +This style may be called the _terrifick_, for its chief intention is to +terrify and amaze; it may be termed the _repulsive_, for its natural +effect is to drive away the reader; or it may be distinguished, in plain +English, by the denomination of the _bugbear style_, for it has more +terrour than danger, and will appear less formidable as it is more +nearly approached. + +A mother tells her infant, that _two and two make four_; the child +remembers the proposition, and is able to count four to all the purposes +of life, till the course of his education brings him among philosophers, +who fright him from his former knowledge, by telling him, that four is a +certain aggregate of units; that all numbers being only the repetition +of an unit, which, though not a number itself, is the parent, root, or +original of all number, _four_ is the denomination assigned to a certain +number of such repetitions. The only danger is, lest, when he first +hears these dreadful sounds, the pupil should run away; if he has but +the courage to stay till the conclusion, he will find that, when +speculation has done its worst, two and two still make four. + +An illustrious example of this species of eloquence may be found in +"Letters concerning Mind." The author begins by declaring, that "the +sorts of things are things that now are, have been, and shall be, and +the things that strictly _are_." In this position, except the last +clause, in which he uses something of the scholastick language, there is +nothing but what every man has heard, and imagines himself to know. But +who would not believe that some wonderful novelty is presented to his +intellect, when he is afterwards told, in the true bugbear style, that +"the _ares_, in the former sense, are things that lie between the +_have-beens_ and _shall-bes_. The _have-beens_ are things that are past; +the _shall-bes_ are things that are to come; and the things that _are_, +in the latter sense, are things that have not been, nor shall be, nor +stand in the midst of such as are before them, or shall be after them. +The things that _have been_, and _shall be_, have respect to present, +past, and future. + +"Those likewise that now _are_ have moreover place; that, for instance, +which is here, that which is to the east, that which is to the west." + +All this, my dear reader, is very strange; but though it be strange, it +is not new; survey these wonderful sentences again, and they will be +found to contain nothing more than very plain truths, which, till this +author arose, had always been delivered in plain language[1]. + + +[1] These "Letters on Mind" were written by a Mr. Petvin, who after some + years again astounded the literary public by sending forth, in + diction equally terrific, another tract entitled a "Summary of the + Soul's Perceptive Faculties," 1768. He was at that time compared to + Duns Scotus, the subtle Doctor, who, in the weakness of old age, + wept because he could not understand the subtleties of his earlier + writings. + + + + +No. 37. SATURDAY, DECEMBER 30, 1758. + +Those who are skilled in the extraction and preparation of metals +declare, that iron is every where to be found; and that not only its +proper ore is copiously treasured in the caverns of the earth, but that +its particles are dispersed throughout all other bodies. + +If the extent of the human view could comprehend the whole frame of the +universe, I believe it would be found invariably true, that Providence +has given that in greatest plenty, which the condition of life makes of +greatest use; and that nothing is penuriously imparted, or placed far +from the reach of man, of which a more liberal distribution, or more +easy acquisition, would increase real and rational felicity. + +Iron is common, and gold is rare. Iron contributes so much to supply the +wants of nature, that its use constitutes much of the difference between +savage and polished life, between the state of him that slumbers in +European palaces, and him that shelters himself in the cavities of a +rock from the chilness of the night, or the violence of the storm. Gold +can never be hardened into saws or axes; it can neither furnish +instruments of manufacture, utensils of agriculture, nor weapons of +defence; its only quality is to shine, and the value of its lustre +arises from its scarcity. + +Throughout the whole circle, both of natural and moral life, necessaries +are as iron, and superfluities as gold. What we really need we may +readily obtain; so readily, that far the greater part of mankind has, in +the wantonness of abundance, confounded natural with artificial desires, +and invented necessities for the sake of employment, because the mind is +impatient of inaction, and life is sustained with so little labour, that +the tediousness of idle time cannot otherwise be supported. + +Thus plenty is the original cause of many of our needs; and even the +poverty, which is so frequent and distressful in civilized nations, +proceeds often from that change of manners which opulence has produced. +Nature makes us poor only when we want necessaries; but custom gives the +name of poverty to the want of superfluities. + +When Socrates passed through shops of toys and ornaments, he cried out, +"How many things are here which I do not need!" And the same exclamation +may every man make who surveys the common accommodations of life. + +Superfluity and difficulty begin together. To dress food for the stomach +is easy, the art is to irritate the palate when the stomach is sufficed. +A rude hand may build walls, form roofs, and lay floors, and provide all +that warmth and security require; we only call the nicer artificers to +carve the cornice, or to paint the ceilings. Such dress as may enable +the body to endure the different seasons, the most unenlightened nations +have been able to procure; but the work of science begins in the +ambition of distinction, in variations of fashion, and emulation of +elegance. Corn grows with easy culture; the gardener's experiments are +only employed to exalt the flavours of fruits, and brighten the colours +of flowers. + +Even of knowledge, those parts are most easy which are generally +necessary. The intercourse of society is maintained without the +elegancies of language. Figures, criticisms, and refinements, are the +work of those whom idleness makes weary of themselves. The commerce of +the world is carried on by easy methods of computation. Subtilty and +study are required only when questions are invented merely to puzzle, +and calculations are extended to show the skill of the calculator. The +light of the sun is equally beneficial to him whose eyes tell him that +it moves, and to him whose reason persuades him that it stands still; +and plants grow with the same luxuriance, whether we suppose earth or +water the parent of vegetation. + +If we raise our thoughts to nobler inquiries, we shall still find +facility concurring with usefulness. No man needs stay to be virtuous, +till the moralists have determined the essence of virtue; our duty is +made apparent by its proximate consequences, though the general and +ultimate reason should never be discovered. Religion may regulate the +life of him to whom the Scotists and Thomists are alike unknown; and the +assertors of fate and free-will, however different in their talk, agree +to act in the same manner. + +It is not my intention to depreciate the politer arts or abstruser +studies. That curiosity which always succeeds ease and plenty, was +undoubtedly given us as a proof of capacity which our present state is +not able to fill, as a preparative for some better mode of existence, +which shall furnish employment for the whole soul, and where pleasure +shall be adequate to our powers of fruition. In the mean time, let us +gratefully acknowledge that goodness which grants us ease at a cheap +rate, which changes the seasons where the nature of heat and cold has +not been yet examined, and gives the vicissitudes of day and night to +those who never marked the tropicks, or numbered the constellations. + + + + +No. 38. SATURDAY, JANUARY 6, 1759. + +Since the publication of the letter concerning the condition of those +who are confined in gaols by their creditors, an inquiry is said to have +been made, by which it appears that more than twenty thousand[1] are at +this time prisoners for debt. + +We often look with indifference on the successive parts of that, which, +if the whole were seen together, would shake us with emotion. A debtor +is dragged to prison, pitied for a moment, and then forgotten; another +follows him, and is lost alike in the caverns of oblivion; but when the +whole mass of calamity rises up at once, when twenty thousand reasonable +beings are heard all groaning in unnecessary misery, not by the +infirmity of nature, but the mistake or negligence of policy, who can +forbear to pity and lament, to wonder and abhor? + +There is here no need of declamatory vehemence: we live in an age of +commerce and computation; let us, therefore, coolly inquire what is the +sum of evil which the imprisonment of debtors brings upon our country. + +It seems to be the opinion of the later computists, that the inhabitants +of England do not exceed six millions, of which twenty thousand is the +three-hundredth part. What shall we say of the humanity or the wisdom of +a nation, that voluntarily sacrifices one in every three hundred to +lingering destruction? + +The misfortunes of an individual do not extend their influence to many; +yet, if we consider the effects of consanguinity and friendship, and the +general reciprocation of wants and benefits, which make one man dear or +necessary to another, it may reasonably be supposed, that every man +languishing in prison gives trouble of some kind to two others who love +or need him. By this multiplication of misery we see distress extended +to the hundredth part of the whole society. + +If we estimate at a shilling a day what is lost by the inaction, and +consumed in the support of each man thus chained down to involuntary +idleness, the publick loss will rise in one year to three hundred +thousand pounds; in ten years to more than a sixth part of our +circulating coin. + +I am afraid that those who are best acquainted with the state of our +prisons will confess that my conjecture is too near the truth, when I +suppose that the corrosion of resentment, the heaviness of sorrow, the +corruption of confined air, the want of exercise, and sometimes of food, +the contagion of diseases, from which there is no retreat, and the +severity of tyrants, against whom there can be no resistance, and all +the complicated horrours of a prison, put an end every year to the life +of one in four of those that are shut up from the common comforts of +human life. + +Thus perish yearly five thousand men overborne with sorrow, consumed by +famine, or putrefied by filth; many of them in the most vigorous and +useful part of life; for the thoughtless and imprudent are commonly +young, and the active and busy are seldom old. + +According to the rule generally received, which supposes that one in +thirty dies yearly, the race of man may be said to be renewed at the end +of thirty years. Who would have believed till now, that of every English +generation, a hundred and fifty thousand perish in our gaols? that in +every century, a nation eminent for science, studious of commerce, +ambitious of empire, should willingly lose, in noisome dungeons, five +hundred thousand of its inhabitants; a number greater than has ever been +destroyed in the same time by pestilence and the sword? + +A very late occurrence may show us the value of the number which we thus +condemn to be useless; in the reestablishment of the trained bands, +thirty thousand are considered as a force sufficient against all +exigencies. While, therefore, we detain twenty thousand in prison, we +shut up in darkness and uselessness two-thirds of an army which +ourselves judge equal to the defence of our country. + +The monastick institutions have been often blamed, as tending to retard +the increase of mankind. And, perhaps, retirement ought rarely to be +permitted, except to those whose employment is consistent with +abstraction, and who, though solitary, will not be idle; to those whom +infirmity makes useless to the commonwealth, or to those who have paid +their due proportion to society, and who, having lived for others, may +be honourably dismissed to live for themselves. But whatever be the evil +or the folly of these retreats, those have no right to censure them +whose prisons contain greater numbers than the monasteries of other +countries. It is, surely, less foolish and less criminal to permit +inaction than compel it; to comply with doubtful opinions of happiness, +than condemn to certain and apparent misery; to indulge the +extravagancies of erroneous piety, than to multiply and enforce +temptations to wickedness. + +The misery of gaols is not half their evil: they are filled with every +corruption which poverty and wickedness can generate between them; with +all the shameless and profligate enormities that can be produced by the +impudence of ignominy, the rage of want, and the malignity of despair. +In a prison the awe of the publick eye is lost, and the power of the law +is spent; there are few fears, there are no blushes. The lewd inflame +the lewd, the audacious harden the audacious. Every one fortifies +himself as he can against his own sensibility, endeavours to practise on +others the arts which are practised on himself; and gains the kindness +of his associates by similitude of manners. + +Thus some sink amidst their misery, and others survive only to propagate +villany. It may be hoped, that our lawgivers will at length take away +from us this power of starving and depraving one another; but, if there +be any reason why this inveterate evil should not be removed in our age, +which true policy has enlightened beyond any former time, let those, +whose writings form the opinions and the practices of their +contemporaries, endeavour to transfer the reproach of such imprisonment +from the debtor to the creditor, till universal infamy shall pursue the +wretch whose wantonness of power, or revenge of disappointment, condemns +another to torture and to ruin; till he shall be hunted through the +world as an enemy to man, and find in riches no shelter from contempt. + +Surely, he whose debtor has perished in prison, although he may acquit +himself of deliberate murder, must at least have his mind clouded with +discontent, when he considers how much another has suffered from him; +when he thinks on the wife bewailing her husband, or the children +begging the bread which their father would have earned. If there are any +made so obdurate by avarice or cruelty, as to revolve these consequences +without dread or pity, I must leave them to be awakened by some other +power, for I write only to human beings[2]. + + +[1] This number was, at that time, confidently published; but the author +has since found reason to question the calculation. + +[2] A series of Essays, entitled the Farrago, was published in 1792, for + the benefit of the society for the discharge and relief of persons + imprisoned for small debts. See Dr. Drake's Essays on the Rambler, + &c. vol. ii. p. 427. The Congress of the United States passed a law + in 1824, abolishing arrest and imprisonment for debt. The measure + has yet to stand the test of practice and experience. See Idler 22. + and note. + + + + +No. 39. SATURDAY, JANUARY 13, 1759. + + _Nec genus ornatus unun est: quod quamque decebit, + Eligat_--OVID. Ars. Am. iii. 135. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Sir, + +As none look more diligently about them than those who have nothing to +do, or who do nothing, I suppose it has not escaped your observation, +that the bracelet, an ornament of great antiquity, has been for some +years revived among the English ladies. + +The genius of our nation is said, I know not for what reason, to appear +rather in improvement than invention. The bracelet was known in the +earliest ages; but it was formerly only a hoop of gold, or a cluster of +jewels, and showed nothing but the wealth or vanity of the wearer, till +our ladies, by carrying pictures on their wrists, made their ornaments +works of fancy and exercises of judgment. + +This addition of art to luxury is one of the innumerable proofs that +might be given of the late increase of female erudition; and I have +often congratulated myself that my life has happened at a time when +those, on whom so much of human felicity depends, have learned to think +as well as speak, and when respect takes possession of the ear, while +love is entering at the eye. + +I have observed, that, even by the suffrages of their own sex, those +ladies are accounted wisest, who do not yet disdain to be taught; and, +therefore, I shall offer a few hints for the completion of the bracelet, +without any dread of the fate of Orpheus. + +To the ladies, who wear the pictures of their husbands or children, or +any other relations, I can offer nothing more decent or more proper. It +is reasonable to believe that she intends at least to perform her duty, +who carries a perpetual excitement to recollection and caution, whose +own ornaments must upbraid her with every failure, and who, by an open +violation of her engagements, must for ever forfeit her bracelet. + +Yet I know not whether it is the interest of the husband to solicit very +earnestly a place on the bracelet. If his image be not in the heart, it +is of small avail to hang it on the hand. A husband encircled with +diamonds and rubies may gain some esteem, but will never excite love. He +that thinks himself most secure of his wife, should be fearful of +persecuting her continually with his presence. The joy of life is +variety; the tenderest love requires to be rekindled by intervals of +absence; and Fidelity herself will be wearied with transferring her eye +only from the same man to the same picture. + +In many countries the condition of every woman is known by her dress. +Marriage is rewarded with some honourable distinction, which celibacy is +forbidden to usurp. Some such information a bracelet might afford. The +ladies might enrol themselves in distinct classes, and carry in open +view the emblems of their order. The bracelet of the authoress may +exhibit the Muses in a grove of laurel; the housewife may show Penelope +with her web; the votaress of a single life may carry Ursula with her +troop of virgins; the gamester may have Fortune with her wheel; and +those women _that have no character at all_ may display a field of white +enamel, as imploring help to fill up the vacuity. + +There is a set of ladies who have outlived most animal pleasures, and, +having nothing rational to put in their place, solace with cards the +loss of what time has taken away, and the want of what wisdom, having +never been courted, has never given. For these I know not how to provide +a proper decoration. They cannot be numbered among the gamesters; for +though they are always at play, they play for nothing, and never rise to +the dignity of hazard or the reputation of skill. They neither love nor +are loved, and cannot be supposed to contemplate any human image with +delight. Yet, though they despair to please, they always wish to be +fine, and, therefore, cannot be without a bracelet. To this sisterhood I +can recommend nothing more likely to please them than the king of clubs, +a personage very comely and majestick, who will never meet their eyes +without reviving the thought of some past or future party, and who may +be displayed, in the act of dealing, with grace and propriety. + +But the bracelet which might be most easily introduced into general use +is a small convex mirror, in which the lady may see herself whenever she +shall lift her hand. This will be a perpetual source of delight. Other +ornaments are of use only in publick, but this will furnish +gratifications to solitude. This will show a face that must always +please; she who is followed by admirers will carry about her a perpetual +justification of the publick voice; and she who passes without notice +may appeal from prejudice to her own eyes. + +But I know not why the privilege of the bracelet should be confined to +women; it was in former ages worn by heroes in battle; and, as modern +soldiers are always distinguished by splendour of dress, I should +rejoice to see the bracelet added to the cockade. + +In hope of this ornamental innovation, I have spent some thoughts upon +military bracelets. There is no passion more heroick than love; and, +therefore, I should be glad to see the sons of England marching in the +field, every man with the picture of a woman of honour bound upon his +hand. But since in the army, as every where else, there will always be +men who love nobody but themselves, or whom no woman of honour will +permit to love her, there is a necessity of some other distinctions and +devices. + +I have read of a prince who, having lost a town, ordered the name of it +to be every morning shouted in his ear till it should be recovered. For +the same purpose I think the prospect of Minorca might be properly worn +on the hands of some of our generals: others might delight their +countrymen, and dignify themselves, with a view of Rochfort as it +appeared to them at sea: and those that shall return from the conquest +of America, may exhibit the warehouse of Frontenac, with an inscription +denoting, that it was taken in less than three years by less than twenty +thousand men. + +I am, Sir, &c. + +TOM TOY. + + + + +No. 40. SATURDAY, JANUARY 20, 1759. + +The practice of appending to the narratives of publick transactions more +minute and domestick intelligence, and filling the newspapers with +advertisements, has grown up by slow degrees to its present state. + +Genius is shown only by invention. The man who first took advantage of +the general curiosity that was excited by a siege or battle, to betray +the readers of news into the knowledge of the shop where the best puffs +and powder were to be sold, was undoubtedly a man of great sagacity, and +profound skill in the nature of man. But when he had once shown the way, +it was easy to follow him; and every man now knows a ready method of +informing the publick of all that he desires to buy or sell; whether his +wares be material or intellectual; whether he makes clothes, or teaches +the mathematicks; whether he be a tutor that wants a pupil, or a pupil +that wants a tutor. + +Whatever is common is despised. Advertisements are now so numerous that +they are very negligently perused, and it is, therefore, become +necessary to gain attention by magnificence of promises, and by +eloquence sometimes sublime and sometimes pathetick. + +Promise, large promise, is the soul of an advertisement. I remember a +_wash-ball_ that had a quality truly wonderful--it gave an _exquisite +edge to the razor_. And there are now to be sold, _for ready money +only_, some _duvets for bed-coverings, of down, beyond comparison +superior to what is called otter-down_, and indeed such, that its _many +excellencies cannot be here set forth_. With one excellence we are made +acquainted--_it is warmer than four or five blankets, and lighter than +one._ + +There are some, however, that know the prejudice of mankind in favour of +modest sincerity. The vender of the _beautifying fluid_ sells a lotion +that repels pimples, washes away freckles, smooths the skin, and plumps +the flesh; and yet, with a generous abhorrence of ostentation, +confesses, that it will not _restore the bloom of fifteen to a lady of +fifty_. + +The true pathos of advertisements must have sunk deep into the heart of +every man that remembers the zeal shown by the seller of the _anodyne +necklace_, for the ease and safety of _poor teething infants_, and the +affection with which he warned every mother, that _she would never +forgive herself_, if her infant should perish without a necklace. + +I cannot but remark to the celebrated author who gave, in his +notifications of the camel and dromedary, so many specimens of the +genuine sublime, that there is now arrived another subject yet more +worthy of his pen. _A famous Mohawk Indian warrior, who took_ Dieskaw +_the French general prisoner, dressed in the same manner with the native +Indians when they go to war, with his face and body painted, with his +scalping-knife, tom-axe, and all other implements of war! a sight worthy +the curiosity of every true Briton!_ This is a very powerful +description; but a critick of great refinement would say, that it +conveys rather _horrour_ than _terrour_. An Indian, dressed as he goes +to war, may bring company together; but if he carries the scalping-knife +and tom-axe, there are many true Britons that will never be persuaded to +see him but through a grate. + +It has been remarked by the severer judges, that the salutary sorrow of +tragick scenes is too soon effaced by the merriment of the epilogue; the +same inconvenience arises from the improper disposition of +advertisements. The noblest objects may be so associated as to be made +ridiculous. The camel and dromedary themselves might have lost much of +their dignity between _the true flower of mustard_ and the _original +Daffy's elixir_; and I could not but feel some indignation when I found +this illustrious Indian warrior immediately succeeded by _a fresh parcel +of Dublin butter_. + +The trade of advertising is now so near to perfection, that it is not +easy to propose any improvement. But as every art ought to be exercised +in due subordination to the publick good, I cannot but propose it as a +moral question to these masters of the publick ear, Whether they do not +sometimes play too wantonly with our passions, as when the registrar of +lottery-tickets invites us to his shop by an account of the prize which +he sold last year; and whether the advertising controvertists do not +indulge asperity of language without any adequate provocation; as in the +dispute about _straps for razors_, now happily subsided, and in the +altercation which at present subsists concerning _eau de luce_? + +In an advertisement it is allowed to every man to speak well of himself, +but I know not why he should assume the privilege of censuring his +neighbour. He may proclaim his own virtue or skill, but ought not to +exclude others from the same pretensions. + +Every man that advertises his own excellence should write with some +consciousness of a character which dares to call the attention of the +publick. He should remember that his name is to stand in the same paper +with those of the king of Prussia and the emperour of Germany, and +endeavour to make himself worthy of such association. + +Some regard is likewise to be paid to posterity. There are men of +diligence and curiosity who treasure up the papers of the day merely +because others neglect them, and in time they will be scarce. When these +collections shall be read in another century, how will numberless +contradictions be reconciled? and how shall fame be possibly distributed +among the tailors and bodice-makers of the present age? + +Surely these things deserve consideration. It is enough for me to have +hinted my desire that these abuses may be rectified; but such is the +state of nature, that what all have the right of doing, many will +attempt without sufficient care or due qualifications[1]. + +[1] A history of newspapers, more diffuse than the chronological series + in Nichols' Literary Anecdotes, Vol. iv. is desirable. See Preface. + + + + +No. 41. SATURDAY, JANUARY 27, 1759. + +The following letter relates to an affliction perhaps not necessary to +be imparted to the publick; but I could not persuade myself to suppress +it, because I think, I know the sentiments to be sincere, and I feel no +disposition to provide for this day any other entertainment. + + At, tu quisquis eris, miseri qui cruda poetae + Credideris fletu funera digna tuo, + Haec postrema tibi sit flendi causa, fluatque + Lenis inoffenso vitaque morsque gradu. OVID. + +Mr. Idler, + +Notwithstanding the warnings of philosophers, and the daily examples of +losses and misfortunes which life forces upon our observation, such is +the absorption of our thoughts in the business of the present day, such +the resignation of our reason to empty hopes of future felicity, or such +our unwillingness to foresee what we dread, that every calamity comes +suddenly upon us, and not only presses us as a burden, but crushes as a +blow. + +There are evils which happen out of the common course of nature, against +which it is no reproach not to be provided. A flash of lightning +intercepts the traveller in his way. The concussion of an earthquake +heaps the ruins of cities upon their inhabitants. But other miseries +time brings, though silently yet visibly, forward by its even lapse, +which yet approach us unseen, because we turn our eyes away, and seize +us unresisted, because we could not arm ourselves against them but by +setting them before us. + +That it is vain to shrink from what cannot be avoided, and to hide that +from ourselves which must some time be found, is a truth which we all +know, but which all neglect, and, perhaps, none more than the +speculative reasoner, whose thoughts are always from home, whose eye +wanders over life, whose fancy dances after meteors of happiness kindled +by itself, and who examines every thing rather than his own state. + +Nothing is more evident than that the decays of age must terminate in +death; yet there is no man, says Tully, who does not believe that he may +yet live another year; and there is none who does not, upon the same +principle, hope another year for his parent or his friend: but the +fallacy will be in time detected; the last year, the last day, must +come. It has come, and is past. The life which made my own life pleasant +is at an end, and the gates of death are shut upon my prospects. + +The loss of a friend upon whom the heart was fixed, to whom every wish +and endeavour tended, is a state of dreary desolation, in which the mind +looks abroad impatient of itself, and finds nothing but emptiness and +horrour. The blameless life, the artless tenderness, the pious +simplicity, the modest resignation, the patient sickness, and the quiet +death, are remembered only to add value to the loss, to aggravate regret +for what cannot be amended, to deepen sorrow for what cannot be +recalled. + +These are the calamities by which Providence gradually disengages us +from the love of life. Other evils fortitude may repel, or hope may +mitigate; but irreparable privation leaves nothing to exercise +resolution or flatter expectation. The dead cannot return, and nothing +is left us here but languishment and grief. + +Yet such is the course of nature, that whoever lives long must outlive +those whom he loves and honours. Such is the condition of our present +existence, that life must one time lose its associations, and every +inhabitant of the earth must walk downward to the grave alone and +unregarded, without any partner of his joy or grief, without any +interested witness of his misfortunes or success. + +Misfortune, indeed, he may yet feel; for where is the bottom of the +misery of man? But what is success to him that has none to enjoy it? +Happiness is not found in self-contemplation; it is perceived only when +it is reflected from another. + +We know little of the state of departed souls, because such knowledge is +not necessary to a good life. Reason deserts us at the brink of the +grave, and can give no further intelligence. Revelation is not wholly +silent. "There is joy in the angels of Heaven over one sinner that +repenteth;" and, surely, this joy is not incommunicable to souls +disentangled from the body, and made like angels. + +Let hope therefore dictate, what revelation does not confute, that the +union of souls may still remain; and that we who are struggling with +sin, sorrow, and infirmities, may have our part in the attention and +kindness of those who have finished their course, and are now receiving +their reward. + +These are the great occasions which force the mind to take refuge in +religion: when we have no help in ourselves, what can remain but that we +look up to a higher and a greater Power? and to what hope may we not +raise our eyes and hearts, when we consider that the greatest POWER is +the BEST? + +Surely there is no man who, thus afflicted, does not seek succour in the +_gospel_, which has brought _life and immortality to light_. The +precepts of Epicurus, who teaches us to endure what the laws of the +universe make necessary, may silence, but not content us. The dictates +of Zeno, who commands us to look with indifference on external things, +may dispose us to conceal our sorrow, but cannot assuage it. Real +alleviation of the loss of friends, and rational tranquillity, in the +prospect of our own dissolution, can be received only from the promises +of Him in whose hands are life and death, and from the assurance of +another and better state, in which all tears will be wiped from the +eyes, and the whole soul shall be filled with joy. Philosophy may infuse +stubbornness, but Religion only can give patience[1]. + +I am, &c. + +[1] See Preface. + + + + +No. 42. SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 1759. + +The subject of the following letter is not wholly unmentioned by the +Rambler. The Spectator has also a letter containing a case not much +different. I hope my correspondent's performance is more an effort of +genius, than an effusion of the passions; and that she hath rather +attempted to paint some possible distress, than really feels the evils +which she has described. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Sir, + +There is a cause of misery, which, though certainly known both to you +and your predecessors, has been little taken notice of in your papers; I +mean the snares that the bad behaviour of parents extends over the paths +of life which their children are to tread after them; and as I make no +doubt but the Idler holds the shield for virtue, as well as the glass +for folly; that he will employ his leisure hours as much to his own +satisfaction in warning his readers against a danger, as in laughing +them out of a fashion: for this reason I am tempted to ask admittance +for my story in your paper, though it has nothing to recommend it but +truth, and the honest wish of warning others to shun the track which, I +am afraid, may lead me at last to ruin. + +I am the child of a father, who, having always lived in one spot in the +country where he was born, and having had no genteel education himself, +thought no qualifications in the world desirable but as they led up to +fortune, and no learning necessary to happiness but such as might most +effectually teach me to make the best market of myself. I was +unfortunately born a beauty, to a full sense of which my father took +care to flatter me; and having, when very young, put me to a school in +the country, afterwards transplanted me to another in town, at the +instigation of his friends, where his ill-judged fondness let me remain +no longer than to learn just enough experience to convince me of the +sordidness of his views, to give me an idea of perfections which my +present situation will never suffer me to reach, and to teach me +sufficient morals to dare to despise what is bad, though it be in a +father. + +Thus equipped (as he thought completely) for life, I was carried back +into the country, and lived with him and my mother in a small village, +within a few miles of the county town; where I mixed, at first with +reluctance, among company which, though I never despised, I could not +approve, as they were brought up with other inclinations, and narrower +views than my own. My father took great pains to show me every where, +both at his own house, and at such publick diversions as the country +afforded: he frequently told the people all he had was for his daughter; +took care to repeat the civilities I had received from all his friends +in London; told how much I was admired, and all his little ambition +could suggest to set me in a stronger light. + +Thus have I continued tricked out for sale, as I may call it, and +doomed, by parental authority, to a state little better than that of +prostitution. I look on myself as growing cheaper every hour, and am +losing all that honest pride, that modest confidence, in which the +virgin dignity consists. Nor does my misfortune stop here: though many +would be too generous to impute the follies of a father to a child whose +heart has set her above them; yet I am afraid the most charitable of +them will hardly think it possible for me to be a daily spectatress of +his vices without tacitly allowing them, and at last consenting to them, +as the eye of the frightened infant is, by degrees, reconciled to the +darkness of which at first it was afraid. + +It is a common opinion, he himself must very well know, that vices, like +diseases, are often hereditary; and that the property of the one is to +infect the manners, as the other poisons the springs of life. + +Yet this, though bad, is not the worst; my father deceives himself in +the hopes of the very child he has brought into the world; he suffers +his house to be the seat of drunkenness, riot, and irreligion, who +seduces, almost in my sight, the menial servant, converses with the +prostitute, and corrupts the wife! Thus I, who from my earliest dawn of +reason was taught to think that at my approach every eye sparkled with +pleasure, or was dejected as conscious of superior charms, am excluded +from society, through fear lest I should partake, if not of my father's +crimes, at least of his reproach. Is a parent, who is so little +solicitous for the welfare of a child, better than a pirate who turns a +wretch adrift in a boat at sea, without a star to steer by, or an anchor +to hold it fast? Am I not to lay all my miseries at those doors which +ought to have been opened only for my protection? And if doomed to add +at last one more to the number of those wretches whom neither the world +nor its law befriends, may I not justly say that I have been awed by a +parent into ruin? But though a parent's power is screened from insult +and violation by the very words of Heaven, yet surely no laws, divine or +human, forbid me to remove myself from the malignant shade of a plant +that poisons all around it, blasts the bloom of youth, checks its +improvements, and makes all its flowrets fade; but to whom can the +wretched, can the dependant fly? For me to fly a father's house, is to +be a beggar: I have only one comfort amidst my anxieties, a pious +relation, who bids me appeal to Heaven for a witness to my just +intentions, fly as a deserted wretch to its protection; and, being asked +who my father is, point, like the ancient philosopher, with my finger to +the heavens. + +The hope in which I write this is, that you will give it a place in your +paper; and, as your essays sometimes find their way into the country, +that my father may read my story there; and, if not for his own sake, +yet for mine, spare to perpetuate that worst of calamities to me, the +loss of character, from which all his dissimulation has not been able to +rescue himself. Tell the world, Sir, that it is possible for virtue to +keep its throne unshaken without any other guard than itself; that it is +possible to maintain that purity of thought so necessary to the +completion of human excellence, even in the midst of temptations; when +they have no friend within, nor are assisted by the voluntary indulgence +of vicious thoughts. + +If the insertion of a story like this does not break in on the plan of +your paper, you have it in your power to be a better friend than her +father to + +PERDITA[1]. + +[1]From an unknown correspondent. + + + + +No. 43. SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 10, 1759. + +The natural advantages which arise from the position of the earth which +we inhabit with respect to the other planets, afford much employment to +mathematical speculation; by which it has been discovered, that no other +conformation of the system could have given such commodious +distributions of light and heat, or imparted fertility and pleasure to +so great a part of a revolving sphere. + +It may be, perhaps, observed by the moralist, with equal reason, that +our globe seems particularly fitted for the residence of a being, placed +here only for a short time, whose task is to advance himself to a higher +and happier state of existence, by unremitted vigilance of caution, and +activity of virtue. + +The duties required of man are such as human nature does not willingly +perform, and such as those are inclined to delay who yet intend some +time to fulfil them. It was, therefore, necessary that this universal +reluctance should be counteracted, and the drowsiness of hesitation +wakened into resolve; that the danger of procrastination should he +always in view, and the fallacies of security be hourly detected. + +To this end all the appearances of nature uniformly conspire. Whatever +we see on every side reminds us of the lapse of time and the flux of +life. The day and night succeed each other, the rotation of seasons +diversifies the year, the sun rises, attains the meridian, declines, and +sets; and the moon every night changes its form. + +The day has been considered as an image of the year, and the year as the +representation of life. The morning answers to the spring, and the +spring to childhood and youth; the noon corresponds to the summer, and +the summer to the strength of manhood. The evening is an emblem of +autumn, and autumn of declining life. The night with its silence and +darkness shows the winter, in which all the powers of vegetation are +benumbed; and the winter points out the time when life shall cease, with +its hopes and pleasures. + +He that is carried forward, however swiftly, by a motion equable and +easy, perceives not the change of place but by the variation of objects. +If the wheel of life, which rolls thus silently along, passed on through +undistinguishable uniformity, we should never mark its approaches to the +end of the course. If one hour were like another; if the passage of the +sun did not show that the day is wasting; if the change of seasons did +not impress upon us the flight of the year; quantities of duration equal +to days and years would glide unobserved. If the parts of time were not +variously coloured, we should never discern their departure or +succession, but should live thoughtless of the past, and careless of the +future, without will, and perhaps without power, to compute the periods +of life, or to compare the time which is already lost with that which +may probably remain. + +But the course of time is so visibly marked, that it is observed even by +the birds of passage, and by nations who have raised their minds very +little above animal instinct: there are human beings whose language does +not supply them with words by which they can number five, but I have +read of none, that have not names for day and night, for summer and +winter. + +Yet it is certain, that these admonitions of nature, however forcible, +however importunate, are too often vain; and that many who mark with +such accuracy the course of time, appear to have little sensibility of +the decline of life. Every man has something to do which he neglects; +every man has faults to conquer which he delays to combat. + +So little do we accustom ourselves to consider the effects of time, that +things necessary and certain often surprise us like unexpected +contingencies. We leave the beauty in her bloom, and, after an absence +of twenty years, wonder, at our return, to find her faded. We meet those +whom we left children, and can scarcely persuade ourselves to treat them +as men. The traveller visits in age those countries through which he +rambled in his youth, and hopes for merriment at the old place. The man +of business, wearied with unsatisfactory prosperity, retires to the town +of his nativity, and expects to play away the last years with the +companions of his childhood, and recover youth in the fields, where he +once was young. + +From this inattention, so general and so mischievous, let it be every +man's study to exempt himself. Let him that desires to see others happy +make haste to give, while his gift can be enjoyed, and remember that +every moment of delay takes away something from the value of his +benefaction. And let him, who purposes his own happiness, reflect, that +while he forms his purpose the day rolls on, and _the night cometh when +no man can work_. + + + + +No. 44. SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 17, 1759. + +Memory is, among the faculties of the human mind, that of which we make +the most frequent use, or rather that of which the agency is incessant, +or perpetual. Memory is the primary and fundamental power, without which +there could be no other intellectual operation. Judgment and +ratiocination suppose something already known, and draw their decisions +only from experience. Imagination selects ideas from the treasures of +remembrance, and produces novelty only by varied combinations. We do not +even form conjectures of distant, or anticipations of future events, but +by concluding what is possible from what is past. + +The two offices of memory are collection and distribution; by one images +are accumulated, and by the other produced for use. Collection is always +the employment of our first years; and distribution commonly that of our +advanced age. + +To collect and reposite the various forms of things, is far the most +pleasing part of mental occupation. We are naturally delighted with +novelty, and there is a time when all that we see is new. When first we +enter into the world, whithersoever we turn our eyes, they meet +knowledge with pleasure at her side; every diversity of nature pours +ideas in upon the soul; neither search nor labour are necessary; we have +nothing more to do than to open our eyes, and curiosity is gratified. + +Much of the pleasure which the first survey of the world affords, is +exhausted before we are conscious of our own felicity, or able to +compare our condition with some other possible state. We have, +therefore, few traces of the joy of our earliest discoveries; yet we all +remember a time, when nature had so many untasted gratifications, that +every excursion gave delight which, can now be found no longer, when the +noise of a torrent, the rustle of a wood, the song of birds, or the play +of lambs, had power to fill the attention, and suspend all perception of +the course of time. + +But these easy pleasures are soon at an end; we have seen in a very +little time so much, that we call out for new objects of observation, +and endeavour to find variety in books and life. But study is laborious, +and not always satisfactory; and conversation has its pains as well +pleasures; we are willing to learn, but not willing to be taught; we are +pained by ignorance, but pained yet more by another's knowledge. + +From the vexation of pupilage men commonly set themselves free about the +middle of life, by shutting up the avenues of intelligence, and +resolving to rest in their present state; and they, whose ardour of +inquiry continues longer, find themselves insensibly forsaken by their +instructors. As every man advances in life, the proportion between those +that are younger and that are older than himself is continually +changing; and he that has lived half a century finds few that do not +require from him that information which he once expected from those that +went before him. + +Then it is, that the magazines of memory are opened, and the stores of +accumulated knowledge are displayed by vanity or benevolence, or in +honest commerce of mutual interest. Every man wants others, and is, +therefore, glad when he is wanted by them. And as few men will endure +the labour of intense meditation without necessity, he that has learned +enough for his profit or his honour, seldom endeavours after further +acquisitions. + +The pleasure of recollecting speculative notions would not be much less +than that of gaining them, if they could be kept pure and unmingled with +the passages of life; but such is the necessary concatenation of our +thoughts, that good and evil are linked together, and no pleasure recurs +but associated with pain. Every revived idea reminds us of a time when +something was enjoyed that is now lost, when some hope was not yet +blasted, when some purpose had yet not languished into sluggishness or +indifference. + +Whether it be, that life has more vexations than comforts, or, what is +in the event just the same, that evil makes deeper impression than good, +it is certain that few can review the time past without heaviness of +heart. He remembers many calamities incurred by folly, many +opportunities lost by negligence. The shades of the dead rise up before +him; and he laments the companions of his youth, the partners of his +amusements, the assistants of his labours, whom the hand of death has +snatched away. + +When an offer was made to Themistocles of teaching him the art of +memory, he answered, that he would rather wish for the art of +forgetfulness. He felt his imagination haunted by phantoms of misery +which he was unable to suppress, and would gladly have calmed his +thoughts with some _oblivious antidote_. In this we all resemble one +another; the hero and the sage are, like vulgar mortals, overburdened by +the weight of life; all shrink from recollection, and all wish for an +art of forgetfulness[1]. + +[1] Read the sublime story of Sadak in search of the waters of oblivion + the Tales of the Genii. Those who have seen Martin's picture on the + subject, have failed almost to recognise the respective limits of + poetry and of painting. + + + + +No. 45. SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 24, 1759. + +There is in many minds a kind of vanity exerted to the disadvantage of +themselves; a desire to be praised for superior acuteness discovered +only in the degradation of their species, or censure of their country. + +Defamation is sufficiently copious. The general lampooner of mankind may +find long exercise for his zeal or wit, in the defects of nature, the +vexations of life, the follies of opinion, and the corruptions of +practice. But fiction is easier than discernment; and most of these +writers spare themselves the labour of inquiry, and exhaust their +virulence upon imaginary crimes, which, as they never existed, can never +be amended. + +That the painters find no encouragement among the English for many other +works than portraits, has been imputed to national selfishness. 'Tis +vain, says the satirist, to set before, any Englishman the scenes of +landscape, or the heroes of history; nature and antiquity are nothing in +his eye; he has no value but for himself, nor desires any copy but of +his own form. + +Whoever is delighted with his own picture must derive his pleasure from +the pleasure of another. Every man is always present to himself, and +has, therefore, little need of his own resemblance, nor can desire it, +but for the sake of those whom he loves, and by whom he hopes to be +remembered. This use of the art is a natural and reasonable consequence +of affection; and though, like other human actions, it is often +complicated with pride, yet even such pride is more laudable than that +by which palaces are covered with pictures, that, however excellent, +neither imply the owner's virtue, nor excite it. + +Genius is chiefly exerted in historical pictures; and the art of the +painter of portraits is often lost in the obscurity of his subject. But +it is in painting as in life; what is greatest is not always best. I +should grieve to see Reynolds transfer to heroes and to goddesses, to +empty splendour and to airy fiction, that art which is now employed in +diffusing friendship, in reviving tenderness, in quickening the +affections of the absent, and continuing the presence of the dead[1]. + +Yet in a nation great and opulent there is room, and ought to be +patronage, for an art like that of painting through all its diversities; +and it is to be wished, that the reward now offered for an historical +picture may excite an honest emulation, and give beginning to an English +school. + +It is not very easy to find an action or event that can be efficaciously +represented by a painter. + +He must have an action not successive but instantaneous; for the time of +a picture is a single moment. For this reason, the death of Hercules +cannot well be painted, though, at the first view, it flatters the +imagination with very glittering ideas: the gloomy mountain, overhanging +the sea, and covered with trees, some bending to the wind, and some torn +from their roots by the raging hero; the violence with which he rends +from his shoulders the envenomed garment; the propriety with which his +muscular nakedness may be displayed; the death of Lycas whirled from the +promontory; the gigantick presence of Philoctetes; the blaze of the +fatal pile, which the deities behold with grief and terrour from the +sky. + +All these images fill the mind, but will not compose a picture, because +they cannot be united in a single moment[2]. Hercules must have rent his +flesh at one time, and tossed Lycas into the air at another; he must +first tear up the trees, and then lie down upon the pile. + +The action must be circumstantial and distinct. There is a passage in +the Iliad which cannot be read without strong emotions. A Trojan prince, +seized by Achilles in the battle, falls at his feet, and in moving terms +supplicates for life. "How can a wretch like thee," says the haughty +Greek, "intreat to live, when thou knowest that the time must come when +Achilles is to die?" This cannot be painted, because no peculiarity of +attitude or disposition can so supply the place of language as to +impress the sentiment. + +The event painted must be such as excites passion, and different +passions in the several actors, or a tumult of contending passions in +the chief. + +Perhaps the discovery of Ulysses by his nurse is of this kind. The +surprise of the nurse mingled with joy; that of Ulysses checked by +prudence, and clouded by solicitude; and the distinctness of the action +by which the scar is found; all concur to complete the subject. But the +picture, having only two figures, will want variety. + +A much nobler assemblage may be furnished by the death of Epaminondas. +The mixture of gladness and grief in the face of the messenger who +brings his dying general an account of the victory; the various passions +of the attendants; the sublimity of composure in the hero, while the +dart is by his own command drawn from his side, and the faint gleam of +satisfaction that diffuses itself over the languor of death; are worthy +of that pencil which yet I do not wish to see employed upon them. + +If the design were not too multifarious and extensive, I should wish +that our painters would attempt the dissolution of the parliament by +Cromwell[3]. The point of time may be chosen when Cromwell, looking +round the Pandaemonium with contempt, ordered the bauble to be taken +away; and Harrison laid hands on the Speaker to drag him from the chair. + +The various appearances which rage, and terrour, and astonishment, and +guilt, might exhibit in the faces of that hateful assembly, of whom the +principal persons may be faithfully drawn from portraits or prints; the +irresolute repugnance of some, the hypocritical submissions of others, +the ferocious insolence of Cromwell, the rugged brutality of Harrison, +and the general trepidation of fear and wickedness, would, if some +proper disposition could be contrived, make a picture of unexampled +variety, and irresistible instruction. + +[1] Some judicious remarks on portrait painting may be found in + Chalmers' Preface to Idler, Brit. Ess. 33. + + The difference between the French and English schools, in this + department of the Art, well proves that mind has scope for its + powers in portrait, and that genius alone can so generalize the + details "as to identify the individual man with the dignity of his + thinking powers." + +[2] Has that picture, which is considered the finest in the world, the + transfiguration, this requisite? Could any human eye, at one and the + same moment, have beheld the apostles baffled with the stubborn + spirit which they had not faith to quell, and the glories on the + Mount? + +[3] This subject has now been most successfully handled by West. Hall's + exquisite engraving has rendered the picture familiar. + + + + +No. 40. SATURDAY, MARCH 3, 1759. + + _Fugit ad salices, sed, se cupit ante videri_. VIRGIL. + +Mr. Idler, + +I am encouraged, by the notice you have taken of Betty Broom, to +represent the miseries which I suffer from a species of tyranny, which, +I believe, is not very uncommon, though perhaps it may have escaped the +observation of those who converse little with fine ladies, or see them +only in their publick characters. + +To this method of venting my vexation I am the more inclined, because if +I do not complain to you, I must burst in silence; for my mistress has +teased me and teased me till I can hold no longer, and yet I must not +tell her of her tricks. The girls that live in common services can +quarrel, and give warning, and find other places; but we that live with +great ladies, if we once offend them, have, nothing left but to return +into the country. + +I am waiting-maid to a lady who keeps the best company, and is seen at +every place of fashionable resort. I am envied by all the maids in the +square, for few countesses leave off so many clothes as my mistress, and +nobody shares with me: so that I supply two families in the country with +finery for the assizes and horse-races, besides what I wear myself. The +steward and housekeeper have joined against me to procure my removal, +that they may advance a relation of their own; but their designs are +found out by my lady, who says I need not fear them, for she will never +have dowdies about her. + +You would think, Mr. Idler, like others, that I am very happy, and may +well be contented with my lot. But I will tell you. My lady has an odd +humour. She never orders any thing in direct words, for she loves a +sharp girl that can take a hint. + +I would not have you suspect that she has any thing to hint which she is +ashamed to speak at length; for none can have greater purity of +sentiment, or rectitude of intention. She has nothing to hide, yet +nothing will she tell. She always gives her directions obliquely and +allusively, by the mention of something relative or consequential, +without any other purpose than to exercise my acuteness and her own. + +It is impossible to give a notion of this style otherwise than by +examples. One night, when she had sat writing letters till it was time +to be dressed, _Molly_, said she, _the Ladies are all to be at Court +to-night in white aprons_. When she means that I should send to order the +chair, she says, _I think the streets are clean, I may venture to walk_. +When she would have something put into its place, she bids me _lay it on +the floor_. If she would have me snuff the candles, she asks _whether I +think her eyes are like a cat's_? If she thinks her chocolate delayed, +she talks of _the benefit of abstinence_. If any needle-work is +forgotten, she supposes _that I have heard of the lady who died by +pricking her finger_. + +She always imagines that I can recall every thing past from a single +word. If she wants her head from the milliner, she only says, _Molly, +you know Mrs. Tape_. If she would have the mantua-maker sent for, she +remarks _that Mr. Taffety, the mercer, was here last week_. She ordered, +a fortnight ago, that the first time she was abroad all day I should +choose her a new set of coffee-cups at the china-shop: of this she +reminded me yesterday, as she was going down stairs, by saying, _You +can't find your way now to Pall-mall_. + +All this would never vex me, if, by increasing my trouble, she spared +her own; but, dear Mr. Idler, is it not as easy to say _coffee-cups_, as +_Pall-mall_? and to tell me in plain words what I am to do, and when it +is to be done, as to torment her own head with the labour of finding +hints, and mine with that of understanding them? + +When first I came to this lady, I had nothing like the learning that I +have now; for she has many books, and I have much time to read; so that +of late I seldom have missed her meaning: but when she first took me I +was an ignorant girl; and she, who, as is very common, confounded want +of knowledge with want of understanding, began once to despair of +bringing me to any thing, because, when I came into her chamber at the +call of her bell, she asked me, _Whether we lived in Zembla_; and I did +not guess the meaning of her inquiry, but modestly answered, that _I +could not tell_. She had happened to ring once when I did not hear her, +and meant to put me in mind of that country where sounds are said to be +congealed by the frost. + +Another time, as I was dressing her head, she began to talk on a sudden +of _Medusa_, and _snakes_, and _men turned into stone, and maids that, +if they were not watched, would let their mistresses be Gorgons_. I +looked round me half frightened, and quite bewildered; till at last, +finding that her literature was thrown away upon me, she bid me with +great vehemence, reach the curling-irons. + +It is not without some indignation, Mr. Idler, that I discover, in these +artifices of vexation, something worse than foppery or caprice; a mean +delight in superiority, which knows itself in no danger of reproof or +opposition; a cruel pleasure in seeing the perplexity of a mind obliged +to find what is studiously concealed, and a mean indulgence of petty +malevolence, in the sharp censure of involuntary, and very often of +inevitable, failings. When, beyond her expectation, I hit upon her +meaning, I can perceive a sudden cloud of disappointment spread over her +face; and have sometimes been afraid, lest I should lose her favour by +understanding her when she means to puzzle me. + +This day, however, she has conquered my sagacity. When she went out of +her dressing-room, she said nothing, but, _Molly, you know_, and +hastened to her chariot. What I am to know is yet a secret; but if I do +not know before she comes back, what I yet have no means of discovering, +she will make my dullness a pretence for a fortnight's ill humour, treat +me as a creature devoid of the faculties necessary to the common duties +of life, and perhaps give the next gown to the housekeeper. + +I am, Sir, + +Your humble servant, + +MOLLY QUICK. + + + + +No. 47. SATURDAY, MARCH 10, 1759. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Mr. Idler, + +I am the unfortunate wife of a city wit, and cannot but think that my +case may deserve equal compassion with any of those which have been +represented in your paper. + +I married my husband within three months after the expiration of his +apprenticeship; we put our money together, and furnished a large and +splendid shop, in which he was for five years and a half diligent and +civil. The notice which curiosity or kindness commonly bestows on +beginners, was continued by confidence and esteem; one customer, pleased +with his treatment and his bargain, recommended another; and we were +busy behind the counter from morning to night. + +Thus every day increased our wealth and our reputation. My husband was +often invited to dinner openly on the Exchange by hundred thousand +pounds men; and whenever I went to any of the halls, the wives of the +aldermen made me low courtesies. We always took up our notes before the +day, and made all considerable payments by draughts upon our banker. + +You will easily believe that I was well enough pleased with my +condition; for what happiness can be greater than that of growing every +day richer and richer? I will not deny, that, imagining myself likely to +be in a short time the sheriff's lady, I broke off my acquaintance with +some of my neighbours; and advised my husband to keep good company, and +not to be seen with men that were worth nothing. + +In time he found that ale disagreed with his constitution, and went +every night to drink his pint at a tavern, where he met with a set of +criticks, who disputed upon the merit of the different theatrical +performers. By these idle fellows he was taken to the play, which at +first he did not seem much to heed; for he owned, that he very seldom +knew what they were doing, and that, while his companions would let him +alone, he was commonly thinking on his last bargain. + +Having once gone, however, he went again and again, though I often told +him that three shillings were thrown away: at last he grew uneasy if he +missed a night, and importuned me to go with him. I went to a tragedy, +which they called Macbeth; and, when I came home, told him, that I could +not bear to see men and women make themselves such fools, by pretending +to be witches and ghosts, generals and kings, and to walk in their sleep +when they were as much awake, as those that looked at them. He told me +that I must get higher notions, and that a play was the most rational of +all entertainments, and most proper to relax the mind after the business +of the day. + +By degrees he gained knowledge of some of the players: and, when the +play was over, very frequently treated them with suppers; for which he +was admitted to stand behind the scenes. + +He soon began to lose some of his morning hours in the same folly, and +was for one winter very diligent in his attendance on the rehearsals; +but of this species of idleness he grew weary, and said, that the play +was nothing without the company. + +His ardour for the diversion of the evening increased; he bought a +sword, and paid five shillings a night to sit in the boxes; he went +sometimes into a place which he calls the green-room, where all the wits +of the age assemble and, when he had been there, could do nothing, for +two or three days, but repeat their jests, or tell their disputes. + +He has now lost his regard for every thing but the playhouse; he +invites, three times a week, one or other to drink claret, and talk of +the drama. His first care in the morning is to read the play-bills; and, +if he remembers any lines of the tragedy which is to be represented, +walks about the shop, repeating them so loud, and with such strange +gestures, that the passengers gather round the door. + +His greatest pleasure, when I married him, was to hear the situation of +his shop commended, and to be told how many estates have been got in it +by the same trade; but of late he grows peevish at any mention of +business, and delights in nothing so much as to be told that he speaks +like Mossop. + +Among his new associates he has learned another language, and speaks in +such a strain that his neighbours cannot understand him. If a customer +talks longer than he is willing to hear, he will complain that he has +been excruciated with unmeaning verbosity; he laughs at the letters of +his friends for their tameness of expression, and often declares himself +weary of attending to the minutiæ of a shop. + +It is well for me that I know how to keep a book, for of late he is +scarcely ever in the way. Since one of his friends told him that he had +a genius for tragick poetry, he has locked himself in an upper room six +or seven hours a day; and, when I carry him any paper to be read or +signed, I hear him talking vehemently to himself, sometimes of love and +beauty, sometimes of friendship and virtue, but more frequently of +liberty and his country. + +I would gladly, Mr. Idler, be informed what to think of a shopkeeper, +who is incessantly talking about liberty; a word, which, since his +acquaintance with polite life, my husband has always in his mouth: he +is, on all occasions, afraid of our liberty, and declares his resolution +to hazard all for liberty. What can the man mean? I am sure he has +liberty enough; it were better for him and me if his liberty was +lessened. + +He has a friend, whom he calls a critick, that comes twice a week to +read what he is writing. This critick tells him that his piece is a +little irregular, but that some detached scenes will shine prodigiously, +and that in the character of Bombulus he is wonderfully great. My +scribbler then squeezes his hand, calls him the best of friends, thanks +him for his sincerity, and tells him that he hates to be flattered. I +have reason to believe that he seldom parts with his dear friend without +lending him two guineas, and am afraid that he gave bail for him three +days ago. + +By this course of life our credit as traders is lessened; and I cannot +forbear to suspect, that my husband's honour as a wit is not much +advanced, for he seems to be always the lowest of the company, and is +afraid to tell his opinion till the rest have spoken. When he was behind +his counter, he used to be brisk, active, and jocular, like a man that +knew what he was doing, and did not fear to look another in the face; +but among wits and criticks he is timorous and awkward, and hangs down +his head at his own table. Dear Mr. Idler, persuade him, if you can, to +return once more to his native element. Tell him, that wit will never +make him rich, but that there are places where riches will always make a +wit. + +I am, Sir, &c. + +DEBORAH GINGER. + + + + +No. 48. SATURDAY, MARCH 17, 1759. + +There is no kind of idleness, by which we are so easily seduced, as that +which dignifies itself by the appearance of business; and, by making the +loiterer imagine that he has something to do which must not be +neglected, keeps him in perpetual agitation, and hurries him rapidly +from place to place. + +He that sits still, or reposes himself upon a couch, no more deceives +himself than he deceives others; he knows that he is doing nothing, and +has no other solace of his insignificance than the resolution, which the +lazy hourly make, of changing his mode of life. + +To do nothing every man is ashamed; and to do much almost every man is +unwilling or afraid. Innumerable expedients have, therefore, been +invented to produce motion without labour, and employment without +solicitude. The greater part of those, whom the kindness of fortune has +left to their own direction, and whom want does not keep chained to the +counter or the plough, play throughout life with the shadows of +business, and know not at last what they have been doing. + +These imitators of action are of all denominations. Some are seen at +every auction without intention to purchase; others appear punctually at +the Exchange, though they are known there only by their faces: some are +always making parties to visit collections for which they have no taste; +and some neglect every pleasure and every duty to hear questions, in +which they have no interest, debated in parliament. + +These men never appear more ridiculous than in the distress which they +imagine themselves to feel from some accidental interruption of those +empty pursuits. A tiger newly imprisoned is indeed more formidable, but +not more angry, than Jack Tulip, withheld from a florist's feast, or Tom +Distich, hindered from seeing the first representation of a play. + +As political affairs are the highest and most extensive of temporal +concerns, the mimick of a politician is more busy and important than any +other trifler. Monsieur le Noir, a man who, without property or +importance in any corner of the earth, has, in the present confusion of +the world, declared himself a steady adherent to the French, is made +miserable by a wind that keeps back the packet-boat, and still more +miserable by every account of a Malouin privateer caught in his cruise; +he knows well that nothing can be done or said by him which can produce +any effect but that of laughter, that he can neither hasten nor retard +good or evil, that his joys and sorrows have scarcely any partakers; yet +such is his zeal, and such his curiosity, that he would run barefooted +to Gravesend, for the sake of knowing first that the English had lost a +tender, and would ride out to meet every mail from the continent, if he +might be permitted to open it. + +Learning is generally confessed to be desirable, and there are some who +fancy themselves always busy in acquiring it. Of these ambulatory +students, one of the most busy is my friend Tom Restless. + +Tom has long had a mind to be a man of knowledge, but he does not care +to spend much time among authors; for he is of opinion that few books +deserve the labour of perusal, that they give the mind an unfashionable +cast, and destroy that freedom of thought, and easiness of manners, +indispensably requisite to acceptance in the world. Tom has, therefore, +found another way to wisdom. When he rises he goes into a coffee-house, +where he creeps so near to men whom he takes to be reasoners, as to hear +their discourse, and endeavours to remember something which, when it has +been strained through Tom's head, is so near to nothing, that what it +once was cannot be discovered. This he carries round from friend to +friend through a circle of visits, till, hearing what each says upon the +question, he becomes able at dinner to say a little himself; and, as +every great genius relaxes himself among his inferiors, meets with some +who wonder how so young a man can talk so wisely. + +At night he has a new feast prepared for his intellects; he always runs +to a disputing society, or a speaking club, where he half hears what, if +he had heard the whole, be would but half understand; goes home pleased +with the consciousness of a day well spent, lies down full of ideas, and +rises in the morning empty as before. + + + + +No. 49. SATURDAY, MARCH 24, 1759. + +I supped three nights ago with my friend Will Marvel. His affairs +obliged him lately to take a journey into Devonshire, from which he has +just returned. He knows me to be a very patient hearer, and was glad of +my company, as it gave him an opportunity of disburdening himself, by a +minute relation of the casualties of his expedition. + +Will is not one of those who go out and return with nothing to tell. He +has a story of his travels, which will strike a home-bred citizen with +horrour, and has in ten days suffered so often the extremes of terrour +and joy, that he is in doubt whether he shall ever again expose either +his body or mind to such danger and fatigue. + +When he left London the morning was bright, and a fair day was promised. +But Will is born to struggle with difficulties. That happened to him, +which has sometimes, perhaps, happened to others. Before he had gone +more than ten miles, it began to rain. What course was to be taken? His +soul disdained to turn back. He did what the King of Prussia might have +done; he flapped his hat, buttoned up his cape, and went forwards, +fortifying his mind by the stoical consolation, that whatever is violent +will be short. + +His constancy was not long tried; at the distance of about half a mile +he saw an inn, which he entered wet and weary, and found civil treatment +and proper refreshment. After a respite of about two hours, he looked +abroad, and seeing the sky clear, called for his horse, and passed the +first stage without any other memorable accident. + +Will considered, that labour must be relieved by pleasure, and that the +strength which great undertakings require must be maintained by copious +nutriment; he, therefore, ordered himself an elegant supper, drank two +bottles of claret, and passed the beginning of the night in sound sleep; +but, waking before light, was forewarned of the troubles of the next +day, by a shower beating against his windows with such violence, as to +threaten the dissolution of nature. When he arose, he found what he +expected, that the country was under water. He joined himself, however, +to a company that was travelling the same way, and came safely to the +place of dinner, though every step of his horse dashed the mud into the +air. + +In the afternoon, having parted from his company, he set forward alone, +and passed many collections of water, of which it was impossible to +guess the depth, and which he now cannot review without some censure of +his own rashness; but what a man undertakes he must perform, and Marvel +hates a coward at his heart. + +Few that lie warm in their beds think what others undergo, who have, +perhaps, been as tenderly educated, and have as acute sensations as +themselves. My friend was now to lodge the second night almost fifty +miles from home, in a house which he never had seen before, among people +to whom he was totally a stranger, not knowing whether the next man he +should meet would prove good or bad; but seeing an inn of a good +appearance, he rode resolutely into the yard; and knowing that respect +is often paid in proportion as it is claimed, delivered his injunctions +to the ostler with spirit, and entering the house, called vigorously +about him. + +On the third day up rose the sun and Mr. Marvel. His troubles and his +dangers were now such as he wishes no other man ever to encounter. The +ways were less frequented, and the country more thinly inhabited. He +rode many a lonely hour through mire and water, and met not a single +soul for two miles together, with whom he could exchange a word. He +cannot deny that, looking round upon the dreary region, and seeing +nothing but bleak fields and naked trees, hills obscured by fogs, and +flats covered with inundations, he did, for some time, suffer melancholy +to prevail upon him, and wished himself again safe at home. One comfort +he had, which was, to consider that none of his friends were in the same +distress, for whom, if they had been with him, he should have suffered +more than for himself; he could not forbear sometimes to consider how +happily the Idler is settled in an easier condition, who, surrounded +like him with terrours, could have done nothing but lie down and die. + +Amidst these reflections he came to a town, and found a dinner which +disposed him to more cheerful sentiments: but the joys of life are +short, and its miseries are long; he mounted and travelled fifteen miles +more through dirt and desolation. + +At last the sun set, and all the horrours of darkness came upon him. He +then repented the weak indulgence in which he had gratified himself at +noon with too long an interval of rest: yet he went forward along a path +which he could no longer see, sometimes rushing suddenly into water, and +sometimes incumbered with stiff clay, ignorant whither he was going, and +uncertain whether his next step might not be the last. + +In this dismal gloom of nocturnal peregrination his horse unexpectedly +stood still. Marvel had heard many relations of the instinct of horses, +and was in doubt what danger might be at hand. Sometimes he fancied that +he was on the bank of a river still and deep, and sometimes that a dead +body lay across the track. He sat still awhile to recollect his +thoughts; and as he was about to alight and explore the darkness, out +stepped a man with a lantern, and opened the turnpike. He hired a guide +to the town, arrived in safety, and slept in quiet. + +The rest of his journey was nothing but danger. He climbed and descended +precipices on which vulgar mortals tremble to look; he passed marshes +like the _Serbonian bog, where armies whole have sunk_; he forded rivers +where the current roared like the Egre or the Severn; or ventured +himself on bridges that trembled under him, from which he looked down on +foaming whirlpools, or dreadful abysses; he wandered over houseless +heaths, amidst all the rage of the elements, with the snow driving in +his face, and the tempest howling in his ears. + +Such are the colours in which Marvel paints his adventures. He has +accustomed himself to sounding words and hyperbolical images, till he +has lost the power of true description. In a road, through which the +heaviest carriages pass without difficulty, and the post-boy every day +and night goes and returns, he meets with hardships like those which are +endured in Siberian deserts, and misses nothing of romantick danger but +a giant and a dragon. When his dreadful story is told in proper terms, +it is only that the way was dirty in winter, and that he experienced the +common vicissitudes of rain and sunshine. + + + + +No. 50. SATURDAY, MARCH 31, 1759. + +The character of Mr. Marvel has raised the merriment of some and the +contempt of others, who do not sufficiently consider how often they hear +and practise the same arts of exaggerated narration. + +There is not, perhaps, among the multitudes of all conditions that swarm +upon the earth, a single man who does not believe that he has something +extraordinary to relate of himself; and who does not, at one time or +other, summon the attention of his friends to the casualties of his +adventures and the vicissitudes of his fortune; casualties and +vicissitudes that happen alike in lives uniform and diversified; to the +commander of armies and the writer at a desk; to the sailor who resigns +himself to the wind and water, and the farmer whose longest journey is +to the market. + +In the present state of the world man may pass through Shakespeare's +seven stages of life, and meet nothing singular or wonderful. But such +is every man's attention to himself, that what is common and unheeded, +when it is only seen, becomes remarkable and peculiar when we happen to +feel it. + +It is well enough known to be according to the usual process of nature, +that men should sicken and recover, that some designs should succeed and +others miscarry, that friends should be separated and meet again, that +some should be made angry by endeavours to please them, and some be +pleased when no care has been used to gain their approbation; that men +and women should at first come together by chance, like each other so +well as to commence acquaintance, improve acquaintance into fondness, +increase or extinguish fondness by marriage, and have children of +different degrees of intellects and virtue, some of whom die before +their parents, and others survive them. + +Yet let any man tell his own story, and nothing of all this has ever +befallen him according to the common order of things; something has +always discriminated his case; some unusual concurrence of events has +appeared, which made him more happy or more miserable than other +mortals; for in pleasures or calamities, however common, every one has +comforts and afflictions of his own. + +It is certain that without some artificial augmentations, many of the +pleasures of life, and almost all its embellishments, would fall to the +ground. If no man was to express more delight than he felt, those who +felt most would raise little envy. If travellers were to describe the +most laboured performances of art with the same coldness as they survey +them, all expectations of happiness from change of place would cease. +The pictures of Raphaël would hang without spectators, and the gardens +of Versailles might be inhabited by hermits. All the pleasure that is +received ends in an opportunity of splendid falsehood, in the power of +gaining notice by the display of beauties which the eye was weary of +beholding, and a history of happy moments, of which, in reality, the +most happy was the last. + +The ambition of superior sensibility and superior eloquence disposes the +lovers of arts to receive rapture at one time, and communicate it at +another; and each labours first to impose upon himself, and then to +propagate the imposture. + +Pain is less subject than pleasure to caprices of expression. The +torments of disease, and the grief for irremediable misfortunes, +sometimes are such as no words can declare, and can only be signified by +groans, or sobs, or inarticulate ejaculations. Man has from nature a +mode of utterance peculiar to pain, but he has none peculiar to +pleasure, because he never has pleasure but in such degrees as the +ordinary use of language may equal or surpass. + +It is nevertheless certain, that many pains, as well as pleasures, are +heightened by rhetorical affectation, and that the picture is, for the +most part, bigger than the life. + +When we describe our sensations of another's sorrows, either in friendly +or ceremonious condolence, the customs of the world scarcely admit of +rigid veracity. Perhaps, the fondest friendship would enrage oftener +than comfort, were the tongue on such occasions faithfully to represent +the sentiments of the heart; and I think the strictest moralists allow +forms of address to be used without much regard to their literal +acceptation, when either respect or tenderness requires them, because +they are universally known to denote not the degree but the species of +our sentiments. + +But the same indulgence cannot be allowed to him who aggravates dangers +incurred, or sorrow endured, by himself, because he darkens the prospect +of futurity, and multiplies the pains of our condition by useless +terrour. Those who magnify their delights are less criminal deceivers, +yet they raise hopes which are sure to be disappointed. It would be +undoubtedly best, if we could see and hear every thing as it is, that +nothing might be too anxiously dreaded, or too ardently pursued. + + + + +No. 51. SATURDAY, APRIL 7, 1759. + +It has been commonly remarked, that eminent men are least eminent at +home, that bright characters lose much of their splendour at a nearer +view, and many, who fill the world with their fame, excite very little +reverence among those that surround them in their domestick privacies. + +To blame or suspect is easy and natural. When the fact is evident, and +the cause doubtful, some accusation is always engendered between +idleness and malignity. This disparity of general and familiar esteem +is, therefore, imputed to hidden vices, and to practices indulged in +secret, but carefully covered from the publick eye. + +Vice will indeed always produce contempt. The dignity of Alexander, +though nations fell prostrate before him, was certainly held in little +veneration by the partakers of his midnight revels, who had seen him, in +the madness of wine, murder his friend, or set fire to the Persian +palace at the instigation of a harlot; and it is well remembered among +us, that the avarice of Marlborough kept him in subjection to his wife, +while he was dreaded by France as her conqueror, and honoured by the +emperour as his deliverer. + +But though, where there is vice there must be want of reverence, it is +not reciprocally true, that where there is want of reverence there is +always vice. That awe which great actions or abilities impress will be +inevitably diminished by acquaintance, though nothing either mean or +criminal should be found. + +Of men, as of every thing else, we must judge according to our +knowledge. When we see of a hero only his battles, or of a writer only +his books, we have nothing to allay our ideas of their greatness. We +consider the one only as the guardian of his country, and the other only +as the instructor of mankind. We have neither opportunity nor motive to +examine the minuter parts of their lives, or the less apparent +peculiarities of their characters; we name them with habitual respect, +and forget, what we still continue to know, that they are men like other +mortals. + +But such is the constitution of the world, that much of life must be +spent in the same manner by the wise and the ignorant, the exalted and +the low. Men, however distinguished by external accidents or intrinsick +qualities, have all the same wants, the same pains, and, as far as the +senses are consulted, the same pleasures. The petty cares and petty +duties are the same in every station to every understanding, and every +hour brings some occasion on which we all sink to the common level. We +are all naked till we are dressed, and hungry till we are fed; and the +general's triumph, and sage's disputation, end, like the humble labours +of the smith or ploughman, in a dinner or in sleep. + +Those notions which are to be collected by reason, in opposition to the +senses, will seldom stand forward in the mind, but lie treasured in the +remoter repositories of memory, to be found only when they are sought. +Whatever any man may have written or done, his precepts or his valour +will scarcely overbalance the unimportant uniformity which runs through +his time. We do not easily consider him as great, whom our own eyes show +us to be little; nor labour to keep present to our thoughts the latent +excellencies of him, who shares with us all our weaknesses and many of +our follies; who, like us, is delighted with slight amusements, busied +with trifling employments, and disturbed by little vexations. + +Great powers cannot be exerted, but when great exigencies make them +necessary. Great exigencies can happen but seldom, and, therefore, those +qualities which have a claim to the veneration of mankind, lie hid, for +the most part, like subterranean treasures, over which the foot passes +as on common ground, till necessity breaks open the golden cavern. + +In the ancient celebration of victory, a slave was placed on the +triumphal car, by the side of the general, who reminded him by a short +sentence, that he was a man[1]. Whatever danger there might be lest a +leader, in his passage to the capitol, should forget the frailties of +his nature, there was surely no need of such an admonition; the +intoxication could not have continued long; he would have been at home +but a few hours, before some of his dependants would have forgot his +greatness, and shown him, that, notwithstanding his laurels, he was yet +a man. + +There are some who try to escape this domestick degradation, by +labouring to appear always wise or always great; but he that strives +against nature, will for ever strive in vain. To be grave of mien and +slow of utterrance; to look with solicitude and speak with hesitation, +is attainable at will; but the show of wisdom is ridiculous when there +is nothing to cause doubt, as that of valour where there is nothing to +be feared. + +A man who has duly considered the condition of his being, will +contentedly yield to the course of things; he will not pant for +distinction where distinction would imply no merit; but though on great +occasions he may wish to be greater than others, he will be satisfied in +common occurrences not to be less. + +[1] + --Sibi Consul + Ne placeat, curru servus portatur eodem. JUV. Sat. x. 41. + + + +No 52. SATURDAY, APRIL 14, 1759. + + _Responsare cupidinibus_.--HOR. Lib. ii. Sat. vii. 85. + +The practice of self-denial, or the forbearance of lawful pleasure, has +been considered by almost every nation, from the remotest ages, as the +highest exaltation of human virtue; and all have agreed to pay respect +and veneration to those who abstained from the delights of life, even +when they did not censure those who enjoy them. + +The general voice of mankind, civil and barbarous, confesses that the +mind and body are at variance, and that neither can be made happy by its +proper gratifications, but at the expense of the other; that a pampered +body will darken the mind, and an enlightened mind will macerate the +body. And none have failed to confer their esteem on those who prefer +intellect to sense, who control their lower by their higher faculties, +and forget the wants and desires of animal life for rational +disquisitions or pious contemplations. + +The earth has scarcely a country, so far advanced towards political +regularity as to divide the inhabitants into classes, where some orders +of men or women are not distinguished by voluntary severities, and where +the reputation of their sanctity is not increased in proportion to the +rigour of their rules, and the exactness of their performance. + +When an opinion to which there is no temptation of interest spreads +wide, and continues long, it may be reasonably presumed to have been +infused by nature or dictated by reason. It has been often observed that +the fictions of impostures and illusions of fancy, soon give way to time +and experience; and that nothing keeps its ground but truth, which gains +every day new influence by new confirmation. + +But truth, when it is reduced to practice, easily becomes subject to +caprice and imagination; and many particular acts will be wrong, though +their general principle be right. It cannot be denied that a just +conviction of the restraint necessary to be laid upon the appetites has +produced extravagant and unnatural modes of mortification, and +institutions, which, however favourably considered, will be found to +violate nature without promoting piety[1]. + +But the doctrine of self-denial is not weakened in itself by the errours +of those who misinterpret or misapply it; the encroachment of the +appetites upon the understanding is hourly perceived; and the state of +those, whom sensuality has enslaved, is known to be in the highest +degree despicable and wretched. + +The dread of such shameful captivity may justly raise alarms, and wisdom +will endeavour to keep danger at a distance. By timely caution and +suspicious vigilance those desires may be repressed, to which indulgence +would soon give absolute dominion; those enemies may be overcome, which, +when they have been a while accustomed to victory, can no longer be +resisted. + +Nothing is more fatal to happiness or virtue, than that confidence which +flatters us with an opinion of our own strength, and, by assuring us of +the power of retreat, precipitates us into hazard. Some may safely +venture farther than others into the regions of delight, lay themselves +more open to the golden shafts of pleasure, and advance nearer to the +residence of the Syrens; but he that is best armed with constancy and +reason is yet vulnerable in one part or other, and to every man there is +a point fixed, beyond which, if he passes, he will not easily return. It +is certainly most wise, as it is most safe, to stop before he touches +the utmost limit, since every step of advance will more and more entice +him to go forward, till he shall at last enter into the recesses of +voluptuousness, and sloth and despondency close the passage behind him. + +To deny early and inflexibly, is the only art of checking the +importunity of desire, and of preserving quiet and innocence. Innocent +gratifications must be sometimes withheld; he that complies with all +lawful desires will certainly lose his empire over himself, and, in +time, either submit his reason to his wishes, and think all his desires +lawful, or dismiss his reason as troublesome and intrusive, and resolve +to snatch what he may happen to wish, without inquiring about right and +wrong. + +No man, whose appetites are his masters, can perform the duties of his +nature with strictness and regularity; he that would be superior to +external influences must first become superior to his own passions. + +When the Roman general, sitting at supper with a plate of turnips before +him, was solicited by large presents to betray his trust, he asked the +messengers whether he that could sup on turnips was a man likely to sell +his own country. Upon him who has reduced his senses to obedience, +temptation has lost its power; he is able to attend impartially to +virtue, and execute her commands without hesitation. + +To set the mind above the appetites is the end of abstinence, which one +of the Fathers observes to be not a virtue, but the ground-work of +virtue. By forbearing to do what may innocently be done, we may add +hourly new vigour to resolution, and secure the power of resistance when +pleasure or interest shall lend their charms to guilt. + +[1] See Rambler 110 and Note. Read also the splendid passage on monastic + seclusion in Adventurer 127. The recluses of the Certosa and + Chartreuse forsook the world for abodes lordly as those of princes. + + + + +No. 53. SATURDAY, APRIL 21, 1759. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Sir, + +I have a wife that keeps good company. You know that the word _good_ +varies its meaning according to the value set upon different qualities +in different places. To be a good man in a college, is to be learned; in +a camp, to be brave; and in the city, to be rich. By good company in the +place which I have the misfortune to inhabit, we understand not only +those from whom any good can be learned, whether wisdom or virtue; or by +whom any good can be conferred, whether profit or reputation:--good +company is the company of those whose birth is high, and whose riches +are great; or of those whom the rich and noble admit to familiarity. + +I am a gentleman of a fortune by no means exuberant, but more than equal +to the wants of my family, and for some years equal to our desires. My +wife, who had never been accustomed to splendour, joined her endeavours +to mine in the superintendence of our economy; we lived in decent +plenty, and were not excluded from moderate pleasures. + +But slight causes produce great effects. All my happiness has been +destroyed by change of place: virtue is too often merely local; in some +situations the air diseases the body, and in others poisons the mind. +Being obliged to remove my habitation, I was led by my evil genius to a +convenient house in a street where many of the nobility reside. We had +scarcely ranged our furniture, and aired our rooms, when my wife began +to grow discontented, and to wonder what the neighbours would think, +when they saw so few chairs and chariots at her door. + +Her acquaintance, who came to see her from the quarter that we had left, +mortified her without design, by continual inquiries about the ladies +whose houses they viewed from our windows. She was ashamed to confess +that she had no intercourse with them, and sheltered her distress under +general answers, which always tended to raise suspicion that she knew +more than she would tell; but she was often reduced to difficulties, +when the course of talk introduced questions about the furniture or +ornaments of their houses, which, when she could get no intelligence, +she was forced to pass slightly over, as things which she saw so often +that she never minded them. + +To all these vexations she was resolved to put an end, and redoubled her +visits to those few of her friends who visited those who kept good +company; and, if ever she met a lady of quality, forced herself into +notice by respect and assiduity. Her advances were generally rejected; +and she heard them, as they went down stairs, talk how some creatures +put themselves forward. + +She was not discouraged, but crept forward from one to another; and, as +perseverance will do great things, sapped her way unperceived, till, +unexpectedly, she appeared at the card-table of lady Biddy Porpoise, a +lethargick virgin of seventy-six, whom all the families in the next +square visited very punctually when she was not at home. + +This was the first step of that elevation to which my wife has since +ascended. For five months she had no name in her mouth but that of lady +Biddy, who, let the world say what it would, had a fine understanding, +and such a command of her temper, that, whether she won or lost, she +slept over her cards. + +At lady Biddy's she met with lady Tawdry, whose favour she gained by +estimating her ear-rings, which were counterfeit, at twice the value of +real diamonds. When she had once entered two houses of distinction, she +was easily admitted into more, and in ten weeks had all her time +anticipated by parties and engagements. Every morning she is bespoke, in +the summer, for the gardens, in the winter, for a sale; every afternoon +she has visits to pay, and every night brings an inviolable appointment, +or an assembly in which the best company in the town are to appear. + +You will easily imagine that much of my domestick comfort is withdrawn. +I never see my wife but in the hurry of preparation, or the languor of +weariness. To dress and to undress is almost her whole business in +private, and the servants take advantage of her negligence to increase +expense. But I can supply her omissions by my own diligence, and should +not much regret this new course of life, if it did nothing more than +transfer to me the care of our accounts. The changes which it has made +are more vexatious. My wife has no longer the use of her understanding. +She has no rule of action but the fashion. She has no opinion but that +of the people of quality. She has no language but the dialect of her own +set of company. She hates and admires in humble imitation; and echoes +the words _charming_ and _detestable_ without consulting her own +perceptions. + +If for a few minutes we sit down together, she entertains me with the +repartees of lady Cackle, or the conversation of lord Whiffler and Miss +Quick, and wonders to find me receiving with indifference sayings which +put all the company into laughter. + +By her old friends she is no longer very willing to be seen, but she +must not rid herself of them all at once; and is sometimes surprised by +her best visitants in company which she would not show, and cannot hide; +but from the moment that a countess enters, she takes care neither to +hear nor see them: they soon find themselves neglected, and retire; and +she tells her ladyship that they are somehow related at a great +distance, and that, as they are a good sort of people, she cannot be +rude to them. + +As by this ambitious union with those that are above her, she is always +forced upon disadvantageous comparisons of her condition with theirs, +she has a constant source of misery within; and never returns from +glittering assemblies and magnificent apartments but she growls out her +discontent, and wonders why she was doomed to so indigent a state. When +she attends the duchess to a sale, she always sees something that she +cannot buy; and, that she may not seem wholly insignificant, she will +sometimes venture to bid, and often make acquisitions which she did not +want at prices which she cannot afford. + +What adds to all this uneasiness is, that this expense is without use, +and this vanity without honour; she forsakes houses where she might be +courted, for those where she is only suffered; her equals are daily made +her enemies, and her superiors will never be her friends. + +I am, Sir, yours, &c. + + + + +No. 54. SATURDAY, APRIL 28, 1759. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Sir, + +You have lately entertained your admirers with the case of an +unfortunate husband, and, thereby, given a demonstrative proof you are +not averse even to hear appeals and terminate differences between man +and wife; I, therefore, take the liberty to present you with the case of +an injured lady, which, as it chiefly relates to what I think the +lawyers call a point of law, I shall do in as juridical a manner as I am +capable, and submit it to the consideration of the learned gentlemen of +that profession. + +_Imprimis_. In the style of my marriage articles, a marriage was _had +and solemnized_ about six months ago, between me and Mr. Savecharges, a +gentleman possessed of a plentiful fortune of his own, and one who, I +was persuaded, would improve, and not spend, mine. + +Before our marriage, Mr. Savecharges had all along preferred the +salutary exercise of walking on foot to the distempered ease, as he +terms it, of lolling in a chariot; but, notwithstanding his fine +panegyricks on walking, the great advantages the infantry were in the +sole possession of, and the many dreadful dangers they escaped, he found +I had very different notions of an equipage, and was not easily to be +converted, or gained over to his party. + +An equipage I was determined to have, whenever I married. I too well +knew the disposition of my intended consort to leave the providing one +entirely to his honour, and flatter myself Mr. Savecharges has, in the +articles made previous to our marriage, _agreed to keep me a coach_; but +lest I should be mistaken, or the attorneys should not have done me +justice in methodizing or legalizing these half dozen words, I will set +about and transcribe that part of the agreement, which will explain the +matter to you much better than can be done by one who is so deeply +interested in the event; and show on what foundation I build my hopes of +being soon under the transporting, delightful denomination of a +fashionable lady, who enjoys the exalted and much-envied felicity of +bowling about in her own coach. + +"And further the said Solomon Savecharges, for divers good causes and +considerations him hereunto moving, hath agreed, and doth hereby agree, +that the said Solomon Savecharges shall and will, so soon as +conveniently may be after the solemnization of the said intended +marriage, at his own proper cost and charges, find and provide a +_certain vehicle, or four-wheel-carriage, commonly called or known by +the name of a coach_; which said vehicle, or wheel-carriage, so called +or known by the name of a coach, shall be _used and enjoyed_ by the said +Sukey Modish, his intended wife," [pray mind that, Mr. Idler,] "at such +times and in such manner as she, the said Sukey Modish, shall think fit +and convenient." + +Such, Mr. Idler, is the agreement my passionate admirer entered into; +and what the dear, frugal husband calls a performance of it, remains to +be described. Soon after the ceremony of signing and sealing was over, +our wedding-clothes being sent home, and, in short, every thing in +readiness except the coach, my own shadow was scarcely more constant +than my passionate lover in his attendance on me: wearied by his +perpetual importunities for what he called a completion of his bliss, I +consented to make him happy; in a few days I gave him my hand, and, +attended by Hymen in his saffron robes, retired to a country-seat of my +husband's, where the honey-moon flew over our heads ere we had time to +recollect ourselves, or think of our engagements in town. Well, to town +we came, and you may be sure, Sir, I expected to step into my coach on +my arrival here; but, what was my surprise and disappointment, when, +instead of this, he began to sound in my ears? "that the interest of +money was low, very low; and what a terrible thing it was to be +encumbered with a little regiment of servants in these hard times!" I +could easily perceive what all this tended to, but would not seem to +understand him; which made it highly necessary for Mr. Savecharges to +explain himself more intelligibly; to harp upon and protest he dreaded +the expense of keeping a coach. And truly, for his part, he could not +conceive how the pleasure resulting from such a convenience could be any +way adequate to the heavy expense attending it. I now thought it high +time to speak with equal plainness, and told him, as the fortune I +brought fairly entitled me to ride in my own coach, and as I was +sensible his circumstances would very well afford it, he must pardon me +if I insisted on a performance of his agreement. + +I appeal to you, Mr. Idler, whether any thing could be more civil, more +complaisant, than this? And, would you believe it, the creature in +return, a few days after, accosted me, in an offended tone, with, +"Madam, I can now tell you, your coach is ready; and since you are so +passionately fond of one, I intend you the honour of keeping a pair of +horses.--You insisted upon having an article of pin-money, and horses +are no part of my agreement." Base, designing wretch!--I beg your +pardon, Mr. Idler, the very recital of such mean, ungentleman-like +behaviour fires my blood, and lights up a flame within me. But hence, +thou worst of monsters, ill-timed Rage! and let me not spoil my cause +for want of temper. + +Now, though I am convinced I might make a worse use of part of the +pin-money, than by extending my bounty towards the support of so useful a +part of the brute creation; yet, like a true-born Englishwoman, I am so +tenacious of my rights and privileges, and moreover so good a friend to +the gentlemen of the law, that I protest, Mr. Idler, sooner than tamely +give up the point, and be quibbled out of my right, I will receive my +pin-money, as it were, with one hand, and pay it to them with the other; +provided they will give me, or, which is the same thing, my trustees, +encouragement to commence a suit against this dear, frugal husband of +mine. + +And of this I can't have the least shadow of doubt, inasmuch as I have +been told by very good authority, it is somewhere or other laid down as +a rule "_That whenever_ the law doth give any thing to one, it giveth +impliedly whatever is necessary for taking and enjoying the same[1]." +Now, I would gladly know what enjoyment I, or any lady in the kingdom, +can have of a coach without horses? The answer is obvious--None at all! +For, as Serjeant Catlyne very wisely observes, "though a coach has +wheels, to the end it may thereby and by virtue thereof be enabled to +move; yet in point of utility it may as well have none, if they are not +put in motion by means of its vital parts, that is, the horses." + +And, therefore, Sir, I humbly hope you and the learned in the law will +be of opinion, that two certain animals, or quadruped creatures, +commonly called or known by the name of horses, ought to be annexed to, +and go along with, the coach. SUKEY SAVECHARGES[2] + +[1] Quando lex aliquid alicui concedit, concedere videtur et id, sine + quo res ipsa esse non potest. Coke on Littleton, 56. a.--ED. + +[2] An unknown correspondent. + + + + +No. 55. SATURDAY, MAY 5, 1759. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Mr. Idler, + +I have taken the liberty of laying before you my complaint, and of +desiring advice or consolation with the greater confidence, because I +believe many other writers have suffered the same indignities with +myself, and hope my quarrel will be regarded by you and your readers as +the common cause of literature. + +Having been long a student, I thought myself qualified in time to become +an author. My inquiries have been much diversified and far extended, and +not finding my genius directing me by irresistible impulse to any +particular subject, I deliberated three years which part of knowledge to +illustrate by my labours. Choice is more often determined by accident +than by reason: I walked abroad one morning with a curious lady, and, by +her inquiries and observations, was incited to write the natural history +of the country in which I reside. + +Natural history is no work for one that loves his chair or his bed. +Speculation may be pursued on a soft couch, but nature must be observed +in the open air. I have collected materials with indefatigable +pertinacity. I have gathered glow-worms in the evening, and snails in +the morning; I have seen the daisy close and open, I have heard the owl +shriek at midnight, and hunted insects in the heat of noon. + +Seven years I was employed in collecting animals and vegetables, and +then found that my design was yet imperfect. The subterranean treasures +of the place had been passed unobserved, and another year was to be +spent in mines and coal-pits. What I had already done supplied a +sufficient motive to do more. I acquainted myself with the black +inhabitants of metallick caverns, and, in defiance of damps and floods, +wandered through the gloomy labyrinths, and gathered fossils from every +fissure, + +At last I began to write, and as I finished any section of my book, read +it to such of my friends, as were most skilful in the matter which it +treated. None of them were satisfied; one disliked the disposition of +the parts, another the colours of the style; one advised me to enlarge, +another to abridge. I resolved to read no more, but to take my own way +and write on, for by consultation I only perplexed my thoughts and +retarded my work. + +The book was at last finished, and I did not doubt but my labour would +be repaid by profit, and my ambition satisfied with honours. I +considered that natural history is neither temporary nor local, and that +though I limited my inquiries to my own country, yet every part of the +earth has productions common to all the rest. Civil history may be +partially studied, the revolutions of one nation may be neglected by +another; but after that in which all have an interest, all must be +inquisitive. No man can have sunk so far into stupidity as not to +consider the properties of the ground on which he walks, of the plants +on which he feeds, or the animals that delight his ear, or amuse his +eye; and, therefore, I computed that universal curiosity would call for +many editions of my book, and that in five years I should gain fifteen +thousand pounds by the sale of thirty thousand copies. + +When I began to write, I insured the house; and suffered the utmost +solicitude when I entrusted my book to the carrier, though I had secured +it against mischances by lodging two transcripts in different places. At +my arrival, I expected that the patrons of learning would contend for +the honour of a dedication, and resolved to maintain the dignity of +letters, by a haughty contempt of pecuniary solicitations. + +I took my lodgings near the house of the Royal Society, and expected +every morning a visit from the president. I walked in the Park, and +wondered that I overheard no mention of the great naturalist. At last I +visited a noble earl, and told him of my work: he answered, that he was +under an engagement never to subscribe. I was angry to have that refused +which I did not mean to ask, and concealed my design of making him +immortal. I went next day to another, and, in resentment of my late +affront, offered to prefix his name to my new book. He said, coldly, +that _he did not understand those things_; another thought, _there were +too many books_; and another would _talk with me when the races were +over_. + +Being amazed to find a man of learning so indecently slighted, I +resolved to indulge the philosophical pride of retirement and +independence. I then sent to some of the principal booksellers the plan +of my book, and bespoke a large room in the next tavern, that I might +more commodiously see them together, and enjoy the contest, while they +were outbidding one another. I drank my coffee, and yet nobody was come; +at last I received a note from one, to tell me that he was going out of +town; and from another, that natural history was out of his way. At last +there came a grave man, who desired to see the work, and, without +opening it, told me, that a book of that size _would never do_. + +I then condescended to step into shops, and mentioned my work to the +masters. Some never dealt with authors; others had their hands full; +some never had known such a dead time; others had lost by all that they +had published for the last twelvemonth. One offered to print my work, if +I could procure subscriptions for five hundred, and would allow me two +hundred copies for my property. I lost my patience, and gave him a kick; +for which he has indicted me. + +I can easily perceive, that there is a combination among them to defeat +my expectations; and I find it so general, that I am sure it must have +been long concerted. I suppose some of my friends, to whom I read the +first part, gave notice of my design, and, perhaps, sold the treacherous +intelligence at a higher price than the fraudulence of trade will now +allow me for my book. + +Inform me, Mr. Idler, what I must do; where must knowledge and industry +find their recompense, thus neglected by the high, and cheated by the +low? I sometimes resolve to print my book at my own expense, and, like +the Sibyl, double the price; and sometimes am tempted, in emulation of +Raleigh, to throw it into the fire, and leave this sordid generation to +the curses of posterity. Tell me, dear Idler, what I shall do. + +I am, Sir, &c. + + + + +No. 56. SATURDAY, MAY 12, 1759. + +There is such difference between the pursuits of men, that one part of +the inhabitants of a great city lives to little other purpose than to +wonder at the rest. Some have hopes and fears, wishes and aversions, +which never enter into the thoughts of others, and inquiry is +laboriously exerted to gain that which those who possess it are ready to +throw away. + +To those who are accustomed to value every thing by its use, and have no +such superfluity of time or money, as may prompt them to unnatural wants +or capricious emulations, nothing appears more improbable or extravagant +than the love of curiosities, or that desire of accumulating trifles, +which distinguishes many by whom no other distinction could have ever +been obtained. + +He that has lived without knowing to what height desire may be raised by +vanity, with what rapture baubles are snatched out of the hands of rival +collectors, how the eagerness of one raises eagerness in another, and +one worthless purchase makes a second necessary, may, by passing a few +hours at an auction, learn more than can be shown by many volumes of +maxims or essays. + +The advertisement of a sale is a signal which, at once, puts a thousand +hearts in motion, and brings contenders from every part to the scene of +distribution. He that had resolved to buy no more, feels his constancy +subdued; there is now something in the catalogue which completes his +cabinet, and which he was never before able to find. He whose sober +reflections inform him, that of adding collection to collection there is +no end, and that it is wise to leave early that which must be left +imperfect at last, yet cannot withhold himself from coming to see what +it is that brings so many together, and when he comes is soon +overpowered by his habitual passion; he is attracted by rarity, seduced +by example, and inflamed by competition. + +While the stores of pride and happiness are surveyed, one looks with +longing eyes and gloomy countenance on that which he despairs to gain +from a richer bidder; another keeps his eye with care from settling too +long on that which he most earnestly desires; and another, with more art +than virtue, depreciates that which he values most, in hope to have it +at an easy rate. + +The novice is often surprised to see what minute and unimportant +discriminations increase or diminish value. An irregular contortion of a +turbinated shell, which common eyes pass unregarded, will ten times +treble its price in the imagination of philosophers. Beauty is far from +operating upon collectors as upon low and vulgar minds, even where +beauty might be thought the only quality that could deserve notice. +Among the shells that please by their variety of colours, if one can be +found accidentally deformed by a cloudy spot, it is boasted as the pride +of the collection. China is sometimes purchased for little less than its +weight in gold, only because it is old, though neither less brittle, nor +better painted, than the modern; and brown china is caught up with +ecstasy, though no reason can be imagined for which it should be +preferred to common vessels of common clay. + +The fate of prints and coins is equally inexplicable. Some prints are +treasured up as inestimably valuable, because the impression was made +before the plate was finished. Of coins the price rises not from the +purity of the metal, the excellence of the workmanship, the elegance of +the legend, or the chronological use. A piece, of which neither the +inscription can be read, nor the face distinguished, if there remain of +it but enough to show that it is rare, will be sought by contending +nations, and dignify the treasury in which it shall be shown. + +Whether this curiosity, so barren of immediate advantage, and so liable +to depravation, does more harm or good, is not easily decided. Its harm +is apparent at first view. It fills the mind with trifling ambition; +fixes the attention upon things which have seldom any tendency towards +virtue or wisdom; employs in idle inquiries the time that is given for +better purposes; and often ends in mean and dishonest practices, when +desire increases by indulgence beyond the power of honest gratification. + +These are the effects of curiosity in excess; but what passion in excess +will not become vicious? All indifferent qualities and practices are +bad, if they are compared with those which are good, and good, if they +are opposed to those that are bad. The pride or the pleasure of making +collections, if it be restrained by prudence and morality, produces a +pleasing remission after more laborious studies; furnishes an amusement +not wholly unprofitable for that part of life, the greater part of many +lives, which would otherwise be lost in idleness or vice; it produces an +useful traffick between the industry of indigence and the curiosity of +wealth; it brings many things to notice that would be neglected, and, by +fixing the thoughts upon intellectual pleasures, resists the natural +encroachments of sensuality, and maintains the mind in her lawful +superiority. + + + + +No. 57. SATURDAY, MAY 19, 1759. + +Prudence is of more frequent use than any other intellectual quality; it +is exerted on slight occasions, and called into act by the cursory +business of common life. + +Whatever is universally necessary, has been granted to mankind on easy +terms. Prudence, as it is always wanted, is without great difficulty +obtained. It requires neither extensive view nor profound search, but +forces itself, by spontaneous impulse, upon a mind neither great nor +busy, neither engrossed by vast designs, nor distracted by multiplicity +of attention. + +Prudence operates on life in the same manner as rules on composition: it +produces vigilance rather than elevation, rather prevents loss than +procures advantage; and often escapes miscarriages, but seldom reaches +either power or honour. It quenches that ardour of enterprise, by which +every thing is done that can claim praise or admiration; and represses +that generous temerity which often fails, and often succeeds. Rules may +obviate faults, but can never confer beauties; and prudence keeps life +safe, but does not often make it happy. The world is not amazed with +prodigies of excellence, but when wit tramples upon rules, and +magnanimity breaks the chains of prudence. + +One of the most prudent of all that have fallen within my observation, +is my old companion Sophron, who has passed through the world in quiet, +by perpetual adherence to a few plain maxims, and wonders how contention +and distress can so often happen. + +The first principle of Sophron is, _to run no hazards_. Though he loves +money, he is of opinion that frugality is a more certain source of +riches than industry. It is to no purpose that any prospect of large +profit is set before him; he believes little about futurity, and does +not love to trust his money out of his sight, for _nobody knows what may +happen_. He has a small estate, which he lets at the old rent, because +_it is better to have a little than nothing_; but he rigorously demands +payment on the stated day, for _he that cannot pay one quarter cannot +pay two_. If he is told of any improvements in agriculture, he likes the +old way, has observed that changes very seldom answer expectation, is of +opinion that our forefathers knew how to till the ground as well as we; +and concludes with an argument that nothing can overpower, that the +expense of planting and fencing is immediate, and the advantage distant, +and that _he is no wise man who will quit a certainty for an +uncertainty_. + +Another of Sophron's rules is, _to mind no business but his own_. In the +state, he is of no party; but hears and speaks of publick affairs with +the same coldness as of the administration of some ancient republick. If +any flagrant act of fraud or oppression is mentioned, he hopes that _all +is not true that is told_: if misconduct or corruption puts the nation +in a flame, he hopes _every man means well_. At elections he leaves his +dependants to their own choice, and declines to vote himself, for every +candidate is a good man, whom he is unwilling to oppose or offend. + +If disputes happen among his neighbours, he observes an invariable and +cold neutrality. His punctuality has gained him the reputation of +honesty, and his caution that of wisdom; and few would refuse to refer +their claims to his award. He might have prevented many expensive +law-suits, and quenched many a feud in its first smoke; but always refuses +the office of arbitration, because he must decide against one or the +other. + +With the affairs of other families he is always unacquainted. He sees +estates bought and sold, squandered and increased, without praising the +economist, or censuring the spendthrift. He never courts the rising, +lest they should fall; nor insults the fallen, lest they should rise +again. His caution has the appearance of virtue, and all who do not want +his help praise his benevolence; but, if any man solicits his +assistance, he has just sent away all his money; and, when the +petitioner is gone, declares to his family that he is sorry for his +misfortunes, has always looked upon him with particular kindness, and, +therefore, could not lend him money, lest he should destroy their +friendship by the necessity of enforcing payment. + +Of domestick misfortunes he has never heard. When he is told the +hundredth time of a gentleman's daughter who has married the coachman, +he lifts up his hands with astonishment, for he always thought her a +sober girl. + +When nuptial quarrels, after having filled the country with talk and +laughter, at last end in separation, he never can conceive how it +happened, for he looked upon them as a happy couple. + +If his advice is asked, he never gives any particular direction, because +events are uncertain, and he will bring no blame upon himself; but he +takes the consulter tenderly by the hand, tells him he makes his case +his own, and advises him not to act rashly, but to weigh the reasons on +both sides; observes, that a man may be as easily too hasty as too slow; +and that as many fail by doing too much as too little; that _a wise man +has two ears and one tongue_; and that _little said is soon mended_; +that he could tell him this and that, but that after all every man is +the best judge of his own affairs. + +With this some are satisfied, and go home with great reverence of +Sophron's wisdom; and none are offended, because every one is left in +full possession of his own opinion. + +Sophron gives no characters. It is equally vain to tell him of vice and +virtue; for he has remarked, that no man likes to be censured, and that +very few are delighted with the praises of another. He has a few terms +which he uses to all alike. With respect to fortune, he believes every +one to be in good circumstances; he never exalts any understanding by +lavish praise, yet he meets with none but very sensible people. Every +man is honest and hearty; and every woman is a good creature. + +Thus Sophron creeps along, neither loved nor hated, neither favoured nor +opposed: he has never attempted to grow rich, for fear of growing poor; +and has raised no friends, for fear of making enemies. + + + + +No. 58. SATURDAY, MAY 26, 1759. + +Pleasure is very seldom found where it is sought. Our brightest blazes +of gladness are commonly kindled by unexpected sparks. The flowers which +scatter their odours, from time to time, in the paths of life, grow up +without culture from seeds scattered by chance. + +Nothing is more hopeless than a scheme of merriment. Wits and humourists +are brought together from distant quarters by preconcerted invitations; +they come, attended by their admirers, prepared to laugh and to applaud; +they gaze awhile on each other, ashamed to be silent, and afraid to +speak; every man is discontented with himself, grows angry with those +that give him pain, and resolves that he will contribute nothing to the +merriment of such worthless company. Wine inflames the general +malignity, and changes sullenness to petulance, till at last none can +bear any longer the presence of the rest. They retire to vent their +indignation in safer places, where they are heard with attention; their +importance is restored, they recover their good humour, and gladden the +night with wit and jocularity. + +Merriment is always the effect of a sudden impression. The jest which is +expected is already destroyed. The most active imagination will be +sometimes torpid, under the frigid influence of melancholy, and +sometimes occasions will be wanting to tempt the mind, however volatile, +to sallies and excursions. Nothing was ever said with uncommon felicity, +but by the co-operation of chance; and, therefore, wit, as well as +valour, must be content to share its honours with fortune. + +All other pleasures are equally uncertain; the general remedy of +uneasiness is change of place; almost every one has some journey of +pleasure in his mind, with which he flatters his expectation. He that +travels in theory has no inconvenience; he has shade and sunshine at his +disposal, and wherever he alights finds tables of plenty and looks of +gaiety. These ideas are indulged till the day of departure arrives, the +chaise is called, and the progress of happiness begins. + +A few miles teach him the fallacies of imagination. The road is dusty, +the air is sultry, the horses are sluggish, and the postillion brutal. +He longs for the time of dinner, that he may eat and rest. The inn is +crowded, his orders are neglected, and nothing remains but that he +devour in haste what the cook has spoiled, and drive on in quest of +better entertainment. He finds at night a more commodious house, but the +best is always worse than he expected. + +He at last enters his native province, and resolves to feast his mind +with the conversation of his old friends, and the recollection of +juvenile frolicks. He stops at the house of his friend, whom he designs +to overpower with pleasure by the unexpected interview. He is not known +till he tells his name, and revives the memory of himself by a gradual +explanation. He is then coldly received, and ceremoniously feasted. He +hastes away to another, whom his affairs have called to a distant place, +and, having seen the empty house, goes away disgusted by a +disappointment which could not be intended, because it could not be +foreseen. At the next house he finds every face clouded with misfortune, +and is regarded with malevolence as an unreasonable intruder, who comes +not to visit but to insult them. It is seldom that we find either men +or places such as we expect them. He that has pictured a prospect upon +his fancy, will receive little pleasure from his eyes; he that has +anticipated the conversation of a wit, will wonder to what prejudice he +owes his reputation. Yet it is necessary to hope, though hope should +always be deluded; for hope itself is happiness, and its frustrations, +however frequent, are less dreadful than its extinction. + + + + +No. 59. SATURDAY, JUNE 2, 1759. + +In the common enjoyments of life, we cannot very liberally indulge the +present hour, but by anticipating part of the pleasure which might have +relieved the tediousness of another day; and any uncommon exertion of +strength, or perseverance in labour, is succeeded by a long interval of +languor and weariness. Whatever advantage we snatch beyond the certain +portion allotted us by nature, is like money spent before it is due, +which, at the time of regular payment, will be missed and regretted. + +Fame, like all other things which are supposed to give or to increase +happiness, is dispensed with the same equality of distribution. He that +is loudly praised will be clamorously censured; he that rises hastily +into fame will be in danger of sinking suddenly into oblivion. + +Of many writers who filled their age with wonder, and whose names we +find celebrated in the books of their contemporaries, the works are now +no longer to be seen, or are seen only amidst the lumber of libraries +which are seldom visited, where they lie only to show the deceitfulness +of hope, and the uncertainty of honour. + +Of the decline of reputation many causes may be assigned. It is commonly +lost because it never was deserved; and was conferred at first, not by +the suffrage of criticism, but by the fondness of friendship, or +servility of flattery. The great and popular are very freely applauded; +but all soon grow weary of echoing to each other a name which has no +other claim to notice, but that many mouths are pronouncing it at once. + +But many have lost the final reward of their labours, because they were +too hasty to enjoy it. They have laid hold on recent occurrences, and +eminent names, and delighted their readers with allusions and remarks, +in which all were interested, and to which all, therefore, were +attentive. But the effect ceased with its cause; the time quickly came +when new events drove the former from memory, when the vicissitudes of +the world brought new hopes and fears, transferred the love and hatred +of the publick to other agents; and the writer, whose works were no +longer assisted by gratitude or resentment, was left to the cold regard +of idle curiosity. + +He that writes upon general principles, or delivers universal truths, +may hope to be often read, because his work will be equally useful at +all times and in every country; but he cannot expect it to be received +with eagerness, or to spread with rapidity, because desire can have no +particular stimulation: that which is to be loved long, must be loved +with reason rather than with passion. He that lays his labours out upon +temporary subjects, easily finds readers, and quickly loses them; for +what should make the book valued when the subject is no more? + +These observations will show the reason why the poem of Hudibras is +almost forgotten, however embellished with sentiments and diversified +with allusions, however bright with wit, and however solid with truth. +The hypocrisy which it detected, and the folly which it ridiculed, have +long vanished from publick notice. Those who had felt the mischief of +discord, and the tyranny of usurpation, read it with rapture; for every +line brought back to memory something known, and gratified resentment by +the just censure of something hated. But the book, which was once quoted +by princes, and which supplied conversation to all the assemblies of the +gay and witty, is now seldom mentioned, and even by those that affect to +mention it, is seldom read. So vainly is wit lavished upon fugitive +topicks; so little can architecture secure duration when the ground is +false. + + + + +No. 60. SATURDAY, JUNE 9, 1759. + +Criticism is a study by which men grow important and formidable at a +very small expense. The power of invention has been conferred by nature +upon few, and the labour of learning those sciences, which may by mere +labour be obtained, is too great to be willingly endured; but every man +can exert such judgment as he has upon the works of others; and he whom +nature has made weak, and idleness keeps ignorant, may yet support his +vanity by the name of a Critick. + +I hope it will give comfort to great numbers who are passing through the +world in obscurity, when I inform them how easily distinction may be +obtained. All the other powers of literature are coy and haughty, they +must be long courted, and at last are not always gained; but Criticism +is a goddess easy of access and forward of advance, who will meet the +slow, and encourage the timorous; the want of meaning she supplies with +words, and the want of spirit she recompenses with malignity. + +This profession has one recommendation peculiar to itself, that it gives +vent to malignity without real mischief. No genius was ever blasted by +the breath of criticks. The poison which, if confined, would have burst +the heart, fumes away in empty hisses, and malice is set at ease with +very little danger to merit. The critick is the only man whose triumph +is without another's pain, and whose greatness does not rise upon +another's ruin. + +To a study at once so easy and so reputable, so malicious and so +harmless, it cannot be necessary to invite my readers by a long or +laboured exhortation; it is sufficient, since all would be criticks if +they could, to show, by one eminent example, that all can be criticks if +they will. + +Dick Minim, after the common course of puerile studies, in which he was +no great proficient, was put an apprentice to a brewer, with whom he had +lived two years, when his uncle died in the city, and left him a large +fortune in the stocks. Dick had for six months before used the company +of the lower players, of whom he had learned to scorn a trade, and, +being now at liberty to follow his genius, he resolved to be a man of +wit and humour. That he might be properly initiated in his new +character, he frequented the coffee-houses near the theatres, where he +listened very diligently, day after day, to those who talked of language +and sentiments, and unities and catastrophes, till, by slow degrees, he +began to think that be understood something of the stage, and hoped in +time to talk himself. + +But he did not trust so much to natural sagacity as wholly to neglect +the help of books. When the theatres were shut, he retired to Richmond +with a few select writers, whose opinions he impressed upon his memory +by unwearied diligence; and, when he returned with other wits to the +town, was able to tell, in very proper phrases, that the chief business +of art is to copy nature; that a perfect writer is not to be expected, +because genius decays as judgment increases; that the great art is the +art of blotting; and that, according to the rule of Horace, every piece +should be kept nine years. + +Of the great authors he now began to display the characters, laying down +as an universal position, that all had beauties and defects. His opinion +was, that Shakespeare, committing himself wholly to the impulse of +nature, wanted that correctness which learning would have given him; and +that Jonson, trusting to learning, did not sufficiently cast his eyes on +nature. He blamed the stanzas of Spenser, and could not bear the +hexameters of Sidney. Denham and Waller he held the first reformers of +English numbers; and thought that if Waller could have obtained the +strength of Denham, or Denham the sweetness of Waller, there had been +nothing wanting to complete a poet. He often expressed his commiseration +of Dryden's poverty, and his indignation at the age which suffered him +to write for bread; he repeated with rapture the first lines of All for +Love, but wondered at the corruption of taste which could bear any thing +so unnatural as rhyming tragedies. + +In Otway he found uncommon powers of moving the passions, but was +disgusted by his general negligence, and blamed him for making a +conspirator his hero; and never concluded his disquisition, without +remarking how happily the sound of the clock is made to alarm the +audience. Southern would have been his favourite, but that he mixes +comick with tragick scenes, intercepts the natural course of the +passions, and fills the mind with a wild confusion of mirth and +melancholy. The versification of Rowe he thought too melodious for the +stage, and too little varied in different passions. He made it the great +fault of Congreve, that all his persons were wits, and that he always +wrote with more art than nature. He considered Cato rather as a poem +than a play, and allowed Addison to be the complete master of allegory +and grave humour, but paid no great deference to him as a critick. He +thought the chief merit of Prior was in his easy tales and lighter +poems, though he allowed that his Solomon had many noble sentiments +elegantly expressed. In Swift he discovered an inimitable vein of irony, +and an easiness which all would hope and few would attain. Pope he was +inclined to degrade from a poet to a versifier, and thought his numbers +rather luscious than sweet. He often lamented the neglect of Phaedra and +Hippolytus, and wished to see the stage under better regulations. + +These assertions passed commonly uncontradicted; and if now and then an +opponent started up, he was quickly repressed by the suffrages of the +company, and Minim went away from every dispute with elation of heart +and increase of confidence. + +He now grew conscious of his abilities, and began to talk of the present +state of dramatick poetry; wondered what had become of the comick genius +which supplied our ancestors with wit and pleasantry, and why no writer +could be found that durst now venture beyond a farce. He saw no reason +for thinking that the vein of humour was exhausted, since we live in a +country, where liberty suffers every character to spread itself to its +utmost bulk, and which, therefore, produces more originals than all the +rest of the world together. Of tragedy he concluded business to be the +soul, and yet often hinted that love predominates too much upon the +modern stage. + +He was now an acknowledged critick, and had his own seat in a +coffee-house, and headed a party in the pit. Minim has more vanity than +ill-nature, and seldom desires to do much mischief; he will, perhaps, +murmur a little in the ear of him that sits next him, but endeavours to +influence the audience to favour, by clapping when an actor exclaims, +_Ye gods!_ or laments the misery of his country. + +By degrees he was admitted to rehearsals; and many of his friends are of +opinion, that our present poets are indebted to him for their happiest +thoughts; by his contrivance the bell was rung twice in Barbarossa, and +by his persuasion the author of Cleone concluded his play without a +couplet; for what can be more absurd, said Minim, than that part of a +play should be rhymed, and part written in blank verse? and by what +acquisition of faculties is the speaker, who never could find rhymes +before, enabled to rhyme at the conclusion of an act? + +He is the great investigator of hidden beauties, and is particularly +delighted when he finds "the sound an echo to the sense." He has read +all our poets, with particular attention to this delicacy of +versification, and wonders at the supineness with which their works have +been hitherto perused, so that no man has found the sound of a drum in +this distich: + + "When pulpit, drum ecclesiastic, + Was beat with fist instead of a stick;" + +and that the wonderful lines upon honour and a bubble have hitherto +passed without notice: + + "Honour is like the glassy bubble, + Which costs philosophers such trouble; + Where, one part crack'd, the whole does fly, + And wits are crack'd to find out why." + +In these verses, says Minim, we have two striking accommodations of the +sound to the sense. It is impossible to utter the first two lines +emphatically without an act like that which they describe; _bubble_ and +_trouble_ causing a momentary inflation of the cheeks by the retention +of the breath, which is afterwards forcibly emitted, as in the practice +of _blowing bubbles_. But the greatest excellence is in the third line, +which is _crack'd_ in the middle to express a crack, and then shivers +into monosyllables. Yet has this diamond lain neglected with common +stones, and among the innumerable admirers of Hudibras the observation +of this superlative passage has been reserved for the sagacity of Minim. + + + + +No. 61. SATURDAY, JUNE 15, 1759. + +Mr. Minim had now advanced himself to the zenith of critical reputation; +when he was in the pit, every eye in the boxes was fixed upon him; when +he entered his coffee-house, he was surrounded by circles of candidates, +who passed their noviciate of literature under his tuition: his opinion +was asked by all who had no opinion of their own, and yet loved to +debate and decide; and no composition was supposed to pass in safety to +posterity, till it had been secured by Minim's approbation. + +Minim professes great admiration of the wisdom and munificence by which +the academies of the continent were raised; and often wishes for some +standard of taste, for some tribunal, to which merit may appeal from +caprice, prejudice and malignity. He has formed a plan for an academy of +criticism, where every work of imagination may be read before it is +printed, and which shall authoritatively direct the theatres what pieces +to receive or reject, to exclude or to revive. + +Such an institution would, in Dick's opinion, spread the fame of English +literature over Europe, and make London the metropolis of elegance and +politeness, the place to which the learned and ingenious of all +countries would repair for instruction and improvement, and where +nothing would any longer be applauded or endured that was not conformed +to the nicest rules, and finished with the highest elegance. + +Till some happy conjunction of the planets shall dispose our princes or +ministers to make themselves immortal by such an academy, Minim contents +himself to preside four nights in a week in a critical society selected +by himself, where he is heard without contradiction, and whence his +judgment is disseminated through the great vulgar and the small. + +When he is placed in the chair of criticism, he declares loudly for the +noble simplicity of our ancestors, in opposition to the petty +refinements, and ornamental luxuriance. Sometimes he is sunk in despair, +and perceives false delicacy daily gaining ground, and sometimes +brightens his countenance with a gleam of hope, and predicts the revival +of the true sublime. He then fulminates his loudest censures against the +monkish barbarity of rhyme; wonders how beings that pretend to reason +can be pleased with one line always ending like another; tells how +unjustly and unnaturally sense is sacrificed to sound; how often the +best thoughts are mangled by the necessity of confining or extending +them to the dimensions of a couplet; and rejoices that genius has, in +our days, shaken off the shackles which had encumbered it so long. Yet +he allows that rhyme may sometimes be borne, if the lines be often +broken, and the pauses judiciously diversified. + +From blank verse he makes an easy transition to Milton, whom he produces +as an example of the slow advance of lasting reputation. Milton is the +only writer in whose books Minim can read for ever without weariness. +What cause it is that exempts this pleasure from satiety he has long and +diligently inquired, and believes it to consist in the perpetual +variation of the numbers, by which the ear is gratified and the +attention awakened. The lines that are commonly thought rugged and +unmusical, he conceives to have been written to temper the melodious +luxury of the rest, or to express things by a proper cadence: for he +scarcely finds a verse that has not this favourite beauty; he declares +that he could shiver in a hot-house when he reads that + + "the ground + Burns frore, and cold performs th' effect of fire;" + +and that, when Milton bewails his blindness, the verse, + + "So thick a drop serene has quench'd these orbs," + +has, he knows not how, something that strikes him with an obscure +sensation like that which he fancies would be felt from the sound of +darkness. + +Minim is not so confident of his rules of judgment as not very eagerly +to catch new light from the name of the author. He is commonly so +prudent as to spare those whom he cannot resist, unless, as will +sometimes happen, he finds the publick combined against them. But a +fresh pretender to fame he is strongly inclined to censure, till his own +honour requires that he commend him. Till he knows the success of a +composition, he intrenches himself in general terms; there are some new +thoughts and beautiful passages, but there is likewise much which he +would have advised the author to expunge. He has several favourite +epithets, of which he has never settled the meaning, but which are very +commodiously applied to books which he has not read, or cannot +understand. One is _manly_, another is _dry_, another _stiff_, and +another _flimsy_; sometimes he discovers delicacy of style, and +sometimes meets with _strange expressions_. + +He is never so great, or so happy, as when a youth of promising parts is +brought to receive his directions for the prosecution of his studies. He +then puts on a very serious air; he advises the pupil to read none but +the best authors; and when he finds one congenial to his own mind, to +study his beauties, but avoid his faults; and, when he sits down to +write, to consider how his favourite author would think at the present +time on the present occasion. He exhorts him to catch those moments when +he finds his thoughts expanded and his genius exalted, but to take care +lest imagination hurry him beyond the bounds of nature. He holds +diligence the mother of success; yet enjoins him, with great +earnestness, not to read more than he can digest, and not to confuse his +mind by pursuing studies of contrary tendencies. He tells him, that +every man has his genius, and that Cicero could never be a poet. The boy +retires illuminated, resolves to follow his genius, and to think how +Milton would have thought: and Minim feasts upon his own beneficence +till another day brings another pupil. + + + + +No. 62. SATURDAY, JUNE 23, 1759. + + _Quid faciam, proescribe. Quiescas_.--HOR. Lib. ii. Sat. i. 5. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Sir, + +An opinion prevails almost universally in the world, that he who has +money has every thing. This is not a modern paradox, or the tenet of a +small and obscure sect, but a persuasion which appears to have operated +upon most minds in all ages, and which is supported by authorities so +numerous and so cogent, that nothing but long experience could have +given me confidence to question its truth. + +But experience is the test by which all the philosophers of the present +age agree, that speculation must be tried; and I may be, therefore, +allowed to doubt the power of money, since I have been a long time rich, +and have not yet found that riches can make me happy. + +My father was a farmer neither wealthy nor indigent, who gave me a +better education than was suitable to my birth, because my uncle in the +city designed me for his heir, and desired that I might be bred a +gentleman. My uncle's wealth was the perpetual subject of conversation +in the house; and when any little misfortune befell us, or any +mortification dejected us, my father always exhorted me to hold up my +head, for my uncle would never marry. + +My uncle, indeed, kept his promise. Having his mind completely busied +between his warehouse and the 'Change, he felt no tediousness of life, +nor any want of domestick amusements. When my father died, he received +me kindly; but, after a few months, finding no great pleasure in the +conversation of each other, we parted; and he remitted me a small +annuity, on which I lived a quiet and studious life, without any wish to +grow great by the death of my benefactor. + +But though I never suffered any malignant impatience to take hold on my +mind, I could not forbear sometimes to imagine to myself the pleasure of +being rich; and, when I read of diversions and magnificence, resolved to +try, when time should put the trial in my power, what pleasure they +could afford. + +My uncle, in the latter spring of his life, when his ruddy cheek and his +firm nerves promised him a long and healthy age, died of an apoplexy. +His death gave me neither joy nor sorrow. He did me good, and I regarded +him with gratitude; but I could not please him, and, therefore, could +not love him. + +He had the policy of little minds, who love to surprise; and, having +always represented his fortune as less than it was, had, I suppose, +often gratified himself with thinking, how I should be delighted to find +myself twice as rich as I expected. My wealth was such as exceeded all +the schemes of expense which I had formed; and I soon began to expand my +thoughts, and look round for some purchase of felicity. + +The most striking effect of riches is the splendour of dress, which +every man has observed to enforce respect, and facilitate reception; and +my first desire was to be fine. I sent for a tailor who was employed by +the nobility, and ordered such a suit of clothes as I had often looked +on with involuntary submission, and am ashamed to remember with what +flutters of expectation I waited for the hour, when I should issue forth +in all the splendour of embroidery. The clothes were brought, and for +three days I observed many eyes turned towards me as I passed: but I +felt myself obstructed in the common intercourse of civility by an +uneasy consciousness of my new appearance; as I thought myself more +observed, I was more anxious about my mien and behaviour; and the mien +which is formed by care is commonly ridiculous. A short time accustomed +me to myself, and my dress was without pain, and without pleasure. + +For a little while I tried to be a rake, but I began too late; and +having by nature no turn for a frolick, was in great danger of ending in +a drunkard. A fever, in which not one of my companions paid me a visit, +gave me time for reflection. I found that there was no great pleasure in +breaking windows and lying in the round-house; and resolved to associate +no longer with those whom, though I had treated and bailed them, I could +not make friends. + +I then changed my measures, kept running horses, and had the comfort of +seeing my name very often in the news. I had a chesnut horse, the +grandson of Childers, who won four plates, and ten by-matches; and a bay +filly, who carried off the five years' old plate, and was expected to +perform much greater exploits, when my groom broke her wind, because I +happened to catch him selling oats for beer. This happiness was soon at +an end; there was no pleasure when I lost, and, when I won, I could not +much exalt myself by the virtues of my horse. I grew ashamed of the +company of jockey-lords, and resolved to spend no more of my time in the +stable. + +It was now known that I had money, and would spend it, and I passed four +months in the company of architects, whose whole business was to +persuade me to build a house. I told them that I had more room than I +wanted, but could not get rid of their importunities. A new plan was +brought me every morning; till at last my constancy was overpowered, and +I began to build. The happiness of building lasted but a little while, +for though I love to spend, I hate to be cheated; and I soon found, that +to build is to be robbed. + +How I proceed in the pursuit of happiness, you shall hear when I find +myself disposed to write. + +I am, Sir, &c. + +TIM. RANGER. + + + + +No. 63. SATURDAY, JUNE 30, 1759. + +The natural progress of the works of men is from rudeness to +convenience, from convenience to elegance, and from elegance to nicety. + +The first labour is enforced by necessity. The savage finds himself +incommoded by heat and cold, by rain and wind; he shelters himself in +the hollow of a rock, and learns to dig a cave where there was none +before. He finds the sun and the wind excluded by the thicket; and when +the accidents of the chase, or the convenience of pasturage, leads him +into more open places, he forms a thicket for himself, by planting +stakes at proper distances, and laying branches from one to another. + +The next gradation of skill and industry produces a house closed with +doors, and divided by partitions; and apartments are multiplied and +disposed according to the various degrees of power or invention; +improvement succeeds improvement, as he that is freed from a greater +evil grows impatient of a less, till ease in time is advanced to +pleasure. + +The mind, set free from the importunities of natural want, gains leisure +to go in search of superfluous gratifications, and adds to the uses of +habitation the delights of prospect. Then begins the reign of symmetry; +orders of architecture are invented, and one part of the edifice is +conformed to another, without any other reason, than that the eye may +not be offended. + +The passage is very short from elegance to luxury, Ionick and Corinthian +columns are soon succeeded by gilt cornices, inlaid floors and petty +ornaments, which show rather the wealth than the taste of the +possessour. + +Language proceeds, like every thing else, through improvement to +degeneracy. The rovers who first took possession of a country, having +not many ideas, and those not nicely modified or discriminated, were +contented, if by general terms and abrupt sentences they could make +their thoughts known to one another: as life begins to be more +regulated, and property to become limited, disputes must be decided, and +claims adjusted; the differences of things are noted, and distinctness +and propriety of expression become necessary. In time, happiness and +plenty give rise to curiosity, and the sciences are cultivated for ease +and pleasure; to the arts, which are now to be taught, emulation soon +adds the art of teaching; and the studious and ambitious contend not +only who shall think best, but who shall tell their thoughts in the most +pleasing manner. + +Then begin the arts of rhetorick and poetry, the regulation of figures, +the selection of words, the modulation of periods, the graces of +transition, the complication of clauses, and all the delicacies of style +and subtilties of composition, useful while they advance perspicuity, +and laudable while they increase pleasure, but easy to be refined by +needless scrupulosity till they shall more embarrass the writer than +assist the reader or delight him. + +The first state is commonly antecedent to the practice of writing; the +ignorant essays of imperfect diction pass away with the savage +generation that uttered them. No nation can trace their language beyond +the second period, and even of that it does not often happen that many +monuments remain. + +The fate of the English tongue is like that of others. We know nothing +of the scanty jargon of our barbarous ancestors; but we have specimens +of our language when it began to be adapted to civil and religious +purposes, and find it such as might naturally be expected, artless and +simple, unconnected and concise. The writers seem to have desired little +more than to be understood, and, perhaps, seldom aspired to the praise +of pleasing. Their verses were considered chiefly as memorial, and, +therefore, did not differ from prose but by the measure or the rhyme. + +In this state, varied a little according to the different purposes or +abilities of writers, our language may be said to have continued to the +time of Gower, whom Chaucer calls his master, and who, however obscured +by his scholar's popularity, seems justly to claim the honour which has +been hitherto denied him, of showing his countrymen that something more +was to be desired, and that English verse might be exalted into poetry. + +From the time of Gower and Chaucer, the English writers have studied +elegance, and advanced their language, by successive improvements, to as +much harmony as it can easily receive, and as much copiousness as human +knowledge has hitherto required. These advances have not been made at +all times with the same diligence or the same success. Negligence has +suspended the course of improvement, or affectation turned it aside; +time has elapsed with little change, or change has been made without +amendment. But elegance has been long kept in view with attention as +near to constancy as life permits, till every man now endeavours to +excel others in accuracy, or outshine them in splendour of style, and +the danger is, lest care should too soon pass to affectation. + + + + +No. 64. SATURDAY, JULY 1, 1759. + + _Quid faciam, praescribe. Quiescas_.--HOR. Lib. ii. Sat. i. 5. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Sir, + +As nature has made every man desirous of happiness, I flatter myself, +that you and your readers cannot but feel some curiosity to know the +sequel of my story; for though, by trying the different schemes of +pleasure, I have yet found nothing in which I could finally acquiesce; +yet the narrative of my attempts will not be wholly without use, since +we always approach nearer to truth as we detect more and more varieties +of errour. + +When I had sold my racers, and put the orders of architecture out of my +head, my next resolution was to be a _fine gentleman_. I frequented the +polite coffee-houses, grew acquainted with all the men of humour, and +gained the right of bowing familiarly to half the nobility. In this new +scene of life my great labour was to learn to laugh. I had been used to +consider laughter as the effect of merriment; but I soon learned that it +is one of the arts of adulation, and, from laughing only to show that I +was pleased, I now began to laugh when I wished to please. This was at +first very difficult. I sometimes heard the story with dull +indifference, and, not exalting myself to merriment by due gradations, +burst out suddenly into an awkward noise, which was not always +favourably interpreted. Sometimes I was behind the rest of the company, +and lost the grace of laughing by delay, and sometimes, when I began at +the right time, was deficient in loudness or in length. But, by diligent +imitation of the best models, I attained at last such flexibility of +muscles, that I was always a welcome auditor of a story, and got the +reputation of a good-natured fellow. + +This was something; but much more was to be done, that I might be +universally allowed to be a fine gentleman. I appeared at court on all +publick days; betted at gaming-tables; and played at all the routs of +eminence. I went every night to the opera, took a fiddler of disputed +merit under my protection, became the head of a musical faction, and had +sometimes concerts at my own house. I once thought to have attained the +highest rank of elegance, by taking a foreign singer into keeping. But +my favourite fiddler contrived to be arrested, on the night of a +concert, for a finer suit of clothes than I had ever presumed to wear, +and I lost all the fame of patronage by refusing to bail him. + +My next ambition was to sit for my picture. I spent a whole winter in +going from painter to painter, to bespeak a whole length of one, and a +half length of another; I talked of nothing but attitudes, draperies and +proper lights; took my friends to see the pictures after every sitting; +heard every day of a wonderful performer in crayons and miniature, and +sent my pictures to be copied; was told by the judges that they were not +like, and was recommended to other artists. At length, being not able to +please my friends, I grew less pleased myself, and at last resolved to +think no more about it. + +It was impossible to live in total idleness: and wandering about in +search of something to do, I was invited to a weekly meeting of +virtuosos, and felt myself instantaneously seized with an +unextinguishable ardour for all natural curiosities. I ran from auction +to auction, became a critick in shells and fossils, bought a _Hortus +siccus_ of inestimable value, and purchased a secret art of preserving +insects, which made my collection the envy of the other philosophers. I +found this pleasure mingled with much vexation. All the faults of my +life were for nine months circulated through the town with the most +active malignity, because I happened to catch a moth of peculiar +variegation; and because I once out-bid all the lovers of shells, and +carried off a nautilus, it was hinted that the validity of my uncle's +will ought to be disputed. I will not deny that I was very proud both of +the moth and of the shell, and gratified myself with the envy of my +companions, perhaps, more than became a benevolent being. But in time I +grew weary of being hated for that which produced no advantage, gave my +shells to children that wanted play-things, and suppressed the art of +drying butterflies, because I would not tempt idleness and cruelty to +kill them. + +I now began to feel life tedious, and wished to store myself with +friends, with whom I might grow old in the interchange of benevolence. I +had observed that popularity was most easily gained by an open table, +and, therefore, hired a French cook, furnished my sideboard with great +magnificence, filled my cellar with wines of pompous appellations, +bought every thing that was dear before it was good, and invited all +those who were most famous for judging of a dinner. In three weeks my +cook gave me warning, and, upon inquiry, told me that Lord Queasy, who +dined with me the day before, had sent him an offer of double wages. My +pride prevailed; I raised his wages, and invited his lordship to another +feast. I love plain meat, and was, therefore, soon weary of spreading a +table of which I could not partake. I found that my guests, when they +went away, criticised their entertainment, and censured my profusion; my +cook thought himself necessary, and took upon him the direction of the +house; and I could not rid myself of flatterers, or break from slavery, +but by shutting up my house, and declaring my resolution to live in +lodgings. + +After all this, tell me, dear Idler, what I must do next; I have health, +I have money, and I hope that I have understanding; yet, with all these, +I have never been able to pass a single day which I did not wish at an +end before sun-set. Tell me, dear Idler, what I shall do. + +I am + +Your humble servant, + +TIM. RANGER. + + + + +No. 65. SATURDAY, JULY 14, 1759. + +This sequel of Clarendon's history, at last happily published, is an +accession to English literature equally agreeable to the admirers of +elegance and the lovers of truth; many doubtful facts may now be +ascertained, and many questions, after long debate, may be determined by +decisive authority. He that records transactions in which himself was +engaged, has not only an opportunity of knowing innumerable particulars +which escape spectators, but has his natural powers exalted by that +ardour which always rises at the remembrance of our own importance, and +by which every man is enabled to relate his own actions better than +another's. + +The difficulties through which this work has struggled into light, and +the delays with which our hopes have been long mocked, naturally lead +the mind to the consideration of the common fate of posthumous +compositions. + +He who sees himself surrounded by admirers, and whose vanity is hourly +feasted with all the luxuries of studied praise, is easily persuaded +that his influence will be extended beyond his life; that they who +cringe in his presence will reverence his memory, and that those who are +proud to be numbered among his friends, will endeavour to vindicate his +choice by zeal for his reputation. + +With hopes like these, to the executors of Swift was committed the +history of the last years of queen Anne, and to those of Pope, the works +which remained unprinted in his closet. The performances of Pope were +burnt by those whom he had, perhaps, selected from all mankind as most +likely to publish them; and the history had likewise perished, had not a +straggling transcript fallen into busy hands. + +The papers left in the closet of Pieresc supplied his heirs with a whole +winter's fuel; and many of the labours of the learned Bishop Lloyd were +consumed in the kitchen of his descendants. + +Some works, indeed, have escaped total destruction, but yet have had +reason to lament the fate of orphans exposed to the frauds of unfaithful +guardians. How Hale would have borne the mutilations which his Pleas of +the Crown have suffered from the editor, they who know his character +will easily conceive[1]. + +The original copy of Burnet's history, though promised to some publick +library[2], has been never given; and who then can prove the fidelity of +the publication, when the authenticity of Clarendon's history, though +printed with the sanction of one of the first universities of the world, +had not an unexpected manuscript been happily discovered, would, with +the help of factious credulity, have been brought into question by the +two lowest of all human beings, a scribbler for a party, and a +commissioner of excise[3]? + +Vanity is often no less mischievous than negligence or dishonesty. He +that possesses a valuable manuscript, hopes to raise its esteem by +concealment, and delights in the distinction which he imagines himself +to obtain by keeping the key of a treasure which he neither uses nor +imparts. From him it falls to some other owner, less vain but more +negligent, who considers it as useless lumber, and rids himself of the +encumbrance. + +Yet there are some works which the authors must consign unpublished to +posterity, however uncertain be the event, however hopeless be the +trust. He that writes the history of his own times, if he adheres +steadily to truth, will write that which his own times will not easily +endure. He must be content to reposite his book, till all private +passions shall cease, and love and hatred give way to curiosity. + +But many leave the labours of half their life to their executors and to +chance, because they will not send them abroad unfinished, and are +unable to finish them, having prescribed to themselves such a degree of +exactness as human diligence can scarcely attain. "Lloyd", says Burnet, +"did not lay out his learning with the same diligence as he laid it in." +He was always hesitating and inquiring, raising objections and removing +them, and waiting for clearer light and fuller discovery. Baker, after +many years passed in biography, left his manuscripts to be buried in a +library, because that was imperfect which could never be perfected. + +Of these learned men, let those who aspire to the same praise imitate +the diligence, and avoid the scrupulosity. Let it be always remembered +that life is short, that knowledge is endless, and that many doubts +deserve not to be cleared. Let those whom nature and study have +qualified to teach mankind, tell us what they have learned while they +are yet able to tell it, and trust their reputation only to themselves. + +[1] See Preface. + +[2] It would be proper to reposite, in some public place, the manuscript + of Clarendon, which has not escaped all suspicion of unfaithful + publication. + + The manuscript of Clarendon is now in the Bodleian library at + Oxford, and the editor of the present edition has it before him + while writing this note. He may likewise add, that a new and emended + edition is now printing from the original MS. at the Clarendon + press. December, 1824. + +[3] See Preface. + Dr. Johnson's hatred of the excise reminds us of John Wesley's + wailing philippic against turnpike gates, which he denounced as the + most cruel of impositions on the way-faring man. + + + + +No. 66. SATURDAY, JULY 21, 1759. + +No complaint is more frequently repeated among the learned, than that +of the waste made by time among the labours of antiquity. Of those who +once filled the civilized world with their renown, nothing is now left +but their names, which are left only to raise desires that never can be +satisfied, and sorrow which never can be comforted. + +Had all the writings of the ancients been faithfully delivered down from +age to age, had the Alexandrian library been spared, and the Palatine +repositories remained unimpaired, how much might we have known of which +we are now doomed to be ignorant! how many laborious inquiries, and dark +conjectures; how many collations of broken hints and mutilated passages +might have been spared! We should have known the successions of princes, +the revolutions of empires, the actions of the great, and opinions of +the wise, the laws and constitutions of every state, and the arts by +which publick grandeur and happiness are acquired and preserved; we +should have traced the progress of life, seen colonies from distant +regions take possession of European deserts, and troops of savages +settled into communities by the desire of keeping what they had +acquired; we should have traced the gradations of civility, and +travelled upward to the original of things by the light of history, till +in remoter times it had glimmered in fable, and at last sunk into +darkness. + +If the works of imagination had been less diminished, it is likely that +all future times might have been supplied with inexhaustible amusement +by the fictions of antiquity. The tragedies of Sophocles and Euripides +would all have shown the stronger passions in all their diversities; and +the comedies of Menander would have furnished all the maxims of +domestick life. Nothing would have been necessary to moral wisdom but to +have studied these great masters, whose knowledge would have guided +doubt, and whose authority would have silenced cavils. + +Such are the thoughts that rise in every student, when his curiosity is +eluded, and his searches are frustrated; yet it may, perhaps, be +doubted, whether our complaints are not sometimes inconsiderate, and +whether we do not imagine more evil than we feel. Of the ancients, +enough remains to excite our emulation and direct our endeavours. Many +of the works which time has left us, we know to have been these that +were most esteemed, and which antiquity itself considered as models; so +that, having the originals, we may without much regret lose the +imitations. The obscurity which the want of contemporary writers often +produces, only darkens single passages, and those commonly of slight +importance. The general tendency of every piece may be known; and though +that diligence deserves praise which leaves nothing unexamined, yet its +miscarriages are not much to be lamented; for the most useful truths are +always universal, and unconnected with accidents and customs. + +Such is the general conspiracy of human nature against contemporary +merit, that, if we had inherited from antiquity enough to afford +employment for the laborious, and amusement for the idle, I know not +what room would have been left for modern genius or modern industry; +almost every subject would have been pre-occupied, and every style would +have been fixed by a precedent from which few would have ventured to +depart. Every writer would have had a rival, whose superiority was +already acknowledged, and to whose fame his work would, even before it +was seen, be marked out for a sacrifice. + +We see how little the united experience of mankind hath been able to add +to the heroick characters displayed by Homer, and how few incidents the +fertile imagination of modern Italy has yet produced, which may not be +found in the Iliad and Odyssey. It is likely, that if all the works of +the Athenian philosophers had been extant, Malbranche and Locke would +have been condemned to be silent readers of the ancient metaphysicians; +and it is apparent, that, if the old writers had all remained, the Idler +could not have written a disquisition on the loss[1]. + +[1] There was a weighty meaning in that fiction of the Stoics, of a +grand periodic year, in which all events should be re-acted in the same +mode and order as before. There is nothing new under the sun. Whatever +is, or shall be, is only an imitation, or, at best, a re-production of +something that has been. The moralist who speculates on the +contingencies of human conduct can only divine the future from what has +already been acted on the earth. The philosopher, leaning on principles +which Science styles immutable, is confined within the narrow bounds of +created matter. Why then should Reason make us undervalue that +Revelation which carries us upwards to Creation's birth, and bears us +downward to a period when time shall be no longer? ED. + + + + +No. 67. SATURDAY, JULY 28, 1759. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Sir, + +In the observations which you have made on the various opinions and +pursuits of mankind, you must often, in literary conversations, have met +with men who consider dissipation as the great enemy of the intellect; +and maintain, that, in proportion as the student keeps himself within +the bounds of a settled plan, he will more certainly advance in science. + +This opinion is, perhaps, generally true; yet, when we contemplate the +inquisitive nature of the human mind, and its perpetual impatience of +all restraint, it may be doubted whether the faculties may not be +contracted by confining the attention; and whether it may not sometimes +be proper to risk the certainty of little for the chance of much. +Acquisitions of knowledge, like blazes of genius, are often fortuitous. +Those who had proposed to themselves a methodical course of reading, +light by accident on a new book, which seizes their thoughts and kindles +their curiosity, and opens an unexpected prospect, to which the way +which they had prescribed to themselves would never have conducted them. + +To enforce and illustrate my meaning, I have sent you a journal of three +days' employment, found among the papers of a late intimate +acquaintance; who, as will plainly appear, was a man of vast designs, +and of vast performances, though he sometimes designed one thing, and +performed another. I allow that the Spectator's inimitable productions +of this kind may well discourage all subsequent journalists; but, as the +subject of this is different from that of any which the Spectator has +given us, I leave it to you to publish or suppress it. + +Mem. The following three days I purpose to give up to reading; and +intend, after all the delays which have obtruded themselves upon me, to +finish my Essay on the Extent of the Mental powers; to revise my +Treatise on Logick; to begin the Epick which I have long projected; to +proceed in my perusal of the Scriptures with Grotius's Comment; and at +my leisure to regale myself with the works of classicks, ancient and +modern, and to finish my Ode to Astronomy. + +Monday.] Designed to rise at six, but, by my servant's laziness, my fire +was not lighted before eight, when I dropped into a slumber that lasted +till nine; at which time I arose, and, after breakfast, at ten, sat down +to study, purposing to begin upon my Essay; but, finding occasion to +consult a passage in Plato, was absorbed in the perusal of the Republick +till twelve. I had neglected to forbid company, and now enters Tom +Careless, who, after half an hour's chat, insisted upon my going with +him to enjoy an absurd character, that he had appointed, by an +advertisement, to meet him at a particular coffee-house. After we had +for some time entertained ourselves with him, we sallied out, designing +each to repair to his home; but, as it fell out, coming up in the street +to a man whose steel by his side declared him a butcher, we overheard +him opening an address to a genteelish sort of young lady, whom he +walked with: "Miss, though your father is master of a coal-lighter, and +you will be a great fortune, 'tis true; yet I wish I may be cut into +quarters if it is not only love, and not lucre of gain, that is my +motive for offering terms of marriage." As this lover proceeded in his +speech, he misled us the length of three streets, in admiration at the +unlimited power of the tender passion, that could soften even the heart +of a butcher. We then adjourned to a tavern, and from thence to one of +the publick gardens, where I was regaled with a most amusing variety of +men possessing great talents, so discoloured by affectation, that they +only made them eminently ridiculous; shallow things, who, by continual +dissipation, had annihilated the few ideas nature had given them, and +yet were celebrated for wonderful pretty gentlemen; young ladies +extolled for their wit, because they were handsome; illiterate empty +women as well as men, in high life, admired for their knowledge, from +their being resolutely positive; and women of real understanding so far +from pleasing the polite million, that they frightened them away, and +were left solitary. When we quitted this entertaining scene, Tom pressed +me, irresistibly, to sup with him. I reached home at twelve, and then +reflected, that, though indeed I had, by remarking various characters, +improved my insight into human nature, yet still I had neglected the +studies proposed, and accordingly took up my Treatise on Logick, to give +it the intended revisal, but found my spirits too much agitated, and +could not forbear a few satirical lines, under the title of The +Evening's Walk. + +Tuesday.] At breakfast, seeing my Ode to Astronomy lying on my desk, I +was struck with a train of ideas, that I thought might contribute to its +improvement. I immediately rang my bell to forbid all visitants, when my +servant opened the door, with, "Sir, Mr. Jeffery Gape." My cup dropped +out of one hand, and my poem out of the other. I could scarcely ask him +to sit; he told me he was going to walk, but, as there was a likelihood +of rain, he would sit with me; he said, he intended at first to have +called at Mr. Vacant's, but as he had not seen me a great while, he did +not mind coming out of his way to wait on me; I made him a bow, but +thanks for the favour stuck in my throat. I asked him if he had been to +the coffee-house; he replied, Two hours. + +Under the oppression of this dull interruption, I sat looking wishfully +at the clock; for which, to increase my satisfaction, I had chosen the +inscription, "Art is long, and life is short;" exchanging questions and +answers at long intervals, and not without some hints that the +weather-glass promised fair weather. At half an hour after three he told +me he would trespass on me for a dinner, and desired me to send to his +house for a bundle of papers, about inclosing a common upon his estate, +which he would read to me in the evening. I declared myself busy, and Mr. +Gape went away. + +Having dined, to compose my chagrin I took up Virgil, and several other +classicks, but could not calm my mind, or proceed in my scheme. At about +five I laid my hand on a Bible that lay on my table, at first with +coldness and insensibility; but was imperceptibly engaged in a close +attention to its sublime morality, and felt my heart expanded by warm +philanthropy, and exalted to dignity of sentiment. I then censured my +too great solicitude, and my disgust conceived at my acquaintance, who +had been so far from designing to offend, that he only meant to show +kindness and respect. In this strain of mind I wrote An Essay on +Benevolence, and An Elegy on Sublunary Disappointments. When I had +finished these, at eleven, I supped, and recollected how little I had +adhered to my plan, and almost questioned the possibility of pursuing +any settled and uniform design; however, I was not so far persuaded of +the truth of these suggestions, but that I resolved to try once more at +my scheme. As I observed the moon shining through my window, from a calm +and bright sky spangled with innumerable stars, I indulged a pleasing +meditation on the splendid scene, and finished my Ode to Astronomy. + +Wednesday.] Rose at seven, and employed three hours in perusal of the +Scriptures with Grotius's Comment; and after breakfast fell into +meditation concerning my projected Epick; and being in some doubt as to +the particular lives of some heroes, whom I proposed to celebrate, I +consulted Bayle and Moreri, and was engaged two hours in examining +various lives and characters, but then resolved to go to my employment. +When I was seated at my desk, and began to feel the glowing succession +of poetical ideas, my servant brought me a letter from a lawyer, +requiring my instant attendance at Gray's Inn for half an hour. I went +full of vexation, and was involved in business till eight at night; and +then, being too much fatigued to study, supped, and went to bed. + +Here my friend's Journal concludes, which, perhaps, is pretty much a +picture of the manner in which many prosecute their studies. I therefore +resolved to send it you, imagining, that, if you think it worthy of +appearing in your paper, some of your readers may receive entertainment +by recognising a resemblance between my friend's conduct and their own. +It must be left to the Idler accurately to ascertain the proper methods +of advancing in literature; but this one position, deducible from what +has been said above, may, I think, be reasonably asserted, that he who +finds himself strongly attracted to any particular study, though it may +happen to be out of his proposed scheme, if it is not trifling or +vicious, had better continue his application to it, since it is likely +that he will, with much more ease and expedition, attain that which a +warm inclination stimulates him to pursue, than that at which a +prescribed law compels him to toil.[1] + +I am, &c. + +[1] This paper, which is evidently throughout allusive to the Idler's + own broken resolutions, was the composition of Bennet Langton, for + whom Johnson cherished the fondest regard. In his admiration he + ventured even to exclaim, "Sit anima mea cum Langtono." Boswell, + iv.--ED. + + + + +No. 68. SATURDAY, AUGUST 4, 1759. + +Among the studies which have exercised the ingenious and the learned for +more than three centuries, none has been more diligently or more +successfully cultivated than the art of translation; by which the +impediments which bar the way to science are, in some measure, removed, +and the multiplicity of languages become less incommodious. + +Of every other kind of writing the ancients have left us models which +all succeeding ages have laboured to imitate; but translation may justly +be claimed by the moderns as their own. In the first ages of the world +instruction was commonly oral, and learning traditional, and what was +not written could not be translated. When alphabetical writing made the +conveyance of opinions and the transmission of events more easy and +certain, literature did not flourish in more than one country at once, +or distant nations had little commerce with each other; and those few +whom curiosity sent abroad in quest of improvement, delivered their +acquisitions in their own manner, desirous, perhaps, to be considered as +the inventors of that which they had learned from others. + +The Greeks for a time travelled into Egypt, but they translated no books +from the Egyptian language; and when the Macedonians had overthrown the +empire of Persia, the countries that became subject to Grecian dominion +studied only the Grecian literature. The books of the conquered nations, +if they had any among them, sunk into oblivion; Greece considered +herself as the mistress, if not as the parent of arts, her language +contained all that was supposed to be known, and, except the sacred +writings of the Old Testament, I know not that the library of Alexandria +adopted any thing from a foreign tongue. + +The Romans confessed themselves the scholars of the Greeks, and do not +appear to have expected, what has since happened, that the ignorance of +succeeding ages would prefer them to their teachers. Every man, who in +Rome aspired to the praise of literature, thought it necessary to learn +Greek, and had no need of versions when they could study the originals. +Translation, however, was not wholly neglected. Dramatick poems could be +understood by the people in no language but their own, and the Romans +were sometimes entertained with the tragedies of Euripides and the +comedies of Menander. Other works were sometimes attempted; in an old +scholiast there is mention of a Latin Iliad; and we have not wholly lost +Tully's version of the poem of Aratus; but it does not appear that any +man grew eminent by interpreting another, and perhaps it was more +frequent to translate for exercise or amusement, than for fame. + +The Arabs were the first nation who felt the ardour of translation: when +they had subdued the eastern provinces of the Greek empire, they found +their captives wiser than themselves, and made haste to relieve their +wants by imparted knowledge. They discovered that many might grow wise +by the labour of a few, and that improvements might be made with speed, +when they had the knowledge of former ages in their own language. They, +therefore, made haste to lay hold on medicine end philosophy, and turned +their chief authors into Arabick[1]. Whether they attempted the poets is +not known; their literary zeal was vehement, but it was short, and +probably expired before they had time to add the arts of elegance to +those of necessity. + +The study of ancient literature was interrupted in Europe by the +irruption of the Northern nations, who subverted the Roman empire, and +erected new kingdoms with new languages. It is not strange that such +confusion should suspend literary attention; those who lost, and those +who gained dominion, had immediate difficulties to encounter, and +immediate miseries to redress, and had little leisure, amidst the +violence of war, the trepidation of flight, the distresses of forced +migration, or the tumults of unsettled conquest, to inquire after +speculative truth, to enjoy the amusement of imaginary adventures, to +know the history of former ages, or study the events of any other lives. +But no sooner had this chaos of dominion sunk into order, than learning +began again to flourish in the calm of peace. When life and possessions +were secure, convenience and enjoyment were soon sought, learning was +found the highest gratification of the mind, and translation became one +of the means by which it was imparted. + +At last, by a concurrence of many causes, the European world was roused +from its lethargy; those arts which had been long obscurely studied in +the gloom of monasteries became the general favourites of mankind; every +nation vied with its neighbour for the prize of learning; the epidemical +emulation spread from south to north, and curiosity and translation +found their way to Britain. + +[1] Some popular information on the interesting subject of Arabian +Literature, is collected in the third part of Harris's Philological +Inquiries. Mr. Hallam's History of the Middle Ages is a rich storehouse +for these points.--ED. + + + + +No. 69. SATURDAY, AUGUST 11, 1759. + +He that reviews the progress of English literature, will find that +translation was very early cultivated among us, but that some +principles, either wholly erroneous or too far extended, hindered our +success from being always equal to our diligence. + +Chaucer, who is generally considered as the father of our poetry, has +left a version of Boethius on the Comforts of Philosophy, the book which +seems to have been the favourite of the middle ages, which had been +translated into Saxon by King Alfred, and illustrated with a copious +comment ascribed to Aquinas. It may be supposed that Chaucer would apply +more than common attention to an author of so much celebrity, yet he has +attempted nothing higher than a version strictly literal, and has +degraded the poetical parts to prose, that the constraint of +versification might not obstruct his zeal for fidelity. + +Caxton taught us typography about the year 1474. The first book printed +in English was a translation. Caxton was both the translator and printer +of the Destruction of Troye; a book which, in that infancy of learning, +was considered as the best account of the fabulous ages, and which, +though now driven out of notice by authors of no greater use or value, +still continued to be read in Caxton's English to the beginning of the +present century. + +Caxton proceeded as he began, and, except the poems of Gower and +Chaucer, printed nothing but translations from the French, in which the +original is so scrupulously followed, that they afford us little +knowledge of our own language: though the words are English, the phrase +is foreign. + +As learning advanced, new works were adopted into our language, but I +think with little improvement of the art of translation, though foreign +nations and other languages offered us models of a better method; till +in the age of Elizabeth we began to find that greater liberty was +necessary to elegance, and that elegance was necessary to general +reception; some essays were then made upon the Italian poets, which +deserve the praise and gratitude of posterity. + +But the old practice was not suddenly forsaken: Holland filled the +nation with literal translation; and, what is yet more strange, the same +exactness was obstinately practised in the versions of the poets. This +absurd labour of construing into rhyme was countenanced by Jonson in his +version of Horace; and whether it be that more men have learning than +genius, or that the endeavours of that time were more directed towards +knowledge than delight, the accuracy of Jonson found more imitators than +the elegance of Fairfax; and May, Sandys and Holiday, confined +themselves to the toil of rendering line for line, not indeed with equal +felicity, for May and Sandys were poets, and Holiday only a scholar and +a critick. + +Feltham appears to consider it as the established law of poetical +translation, that the lines should be neither more nor fewer than those +of the original; and so long had this prejudice prevailed, that Denham +praises Fanshaw's version of Guarini as the example of a _new and noble +way_, as the first attempt to break the boundaries of custom, and assert +the natural freedom of the Muse. + +In the general emulation of wit and genius which the festivity of the +Restoration produced, the poets shook off their constraint, and +considered translation as no longer confined to servile closeness. But +reformation is seldom the work of pure virtue or unassisted reason. +Translation was improved more by accident than conviction. The writers +of the foregoing age had at least learning equal to their genius; and, +being often more able to explain the sentiments or illustrate the +allusions of the ancients, than to exhibit their graces and transfuse +their spirit, were, perhaps, willing sometimes to conceal their want of +poetry by profusion of literature, and, therefore, translated literally, +that their fidelity might shelter their insipidity or harshness. The +wits of Charles's time had seldom more than slight and superficial +views; and their care was to hide their want of learning behind the +colours of a gay imagination; they, therefore, translated always with +freedom, sometimes with licentiousness, and, perhaps, expected that +their readers should accept sprightliness for knowledge, and consider +ignorance and mistake as the impatience and negligence of a mind too +rapid to stop at difficulties, and too elevated to descend to +minuteness. + +Thus was translation made more easy to the writer, and more delightful +to the reader; and there is no wonder if ease and pleasure have found +their advocates. The paraphrastick liberties have been almost +universally admitted; and Sherbourn, whose learning was eminent, and who +had no need of any excuse to pass slightly over obscurities, is the only +writer who, in later times, has attempted to justify or revive the +ancient severity. + +There is undoubtedly a mean to be observed. Dryden saw very early that +closeness best preserved an author's sense, and that freedom best +exhibited his spirit; he, therefore, will deserve the highest praise, +who can give a representation at once faithful and pleasing, who can +convey the same thoughts with the same graces, and who, when he +translates, changes nothing but the language[1]. + +[1] Much research on this branch of literature is exhibited in Lord + Woodhouselee's Principles of Translation. + + + + +No. 70. SATURDAY, AUGUST 18, 1759. + +Few faults of style, whether real or imaginary, excite the malignity of +a more numerous class of readers, than the use of hard words. + +If an author be supposed to involve his thoughts in voluntary obscurity, +and to obstruct, by unnecessary difficulties, a mind eager in pursuit of +truth; if he writes not to make others learned, but to boast the +learning which he possesses himself, and wishes to be admired rather +than understood, he counteracts the first end of writing, and justly +suffers the utmost severity of censure, or the more afflictive severity +of neglect. + +But words are hard only to those who do not understand them; and the +critick ought always to inquire, whether he is incommoded by the fault +of the writer or by his own. + +Every author does not write for every reader; many questions are such as +the illiterate part of mankind can have neither interest nor pleasure in +discussing, and which, therefore, it would be an useless endeavour to +level with common minds, by tiresome circumlocutions or laborious +explanations; and many subjects of general use may be treated in a +different manner, as the book is intended for the learned or the +ignorant. Diffusion and explication are necessary to the instruction of +those who, being neither able nor accustomed to think for themselves, +can learn only what is expressly taught; but they who can form +parallels, discover consequences, and multiply conclusions, are best +pleased with involution of argument and compression of thought; they +desire only to receive the seeds of knowledge which they may branch out +by their own power, to have the way to truth pointed out, which they can +then follow without a guide. + +The Guardian directs one of his pupils, "to think with the wise, but +speak with the vulgar." This is a precept specious enough, but not +always practicable. Difference of thoughts will produce difference of +language. He that thinks with more extent than another will want words +of larger meaning; he that thinks with more subtilty will seek for terms +of more nice discrimination; and where is the wonder, since words are +but the images of things, that he who never knew the original should not +know the copies? + +Yet vanity inclines us to find faults any where rather than in +ourselves. He that reads and grows no wiser, seldom suspects his own +deficiency; but complains of hard words and obscure sentences, and asks +why books are written which cannot be understood? + +Among the hard words which are no longer to be used, it has been long +the custom to number terms of art. "Every man," says Swift, "is more +able to explain the subject of an art than its professors; a farmer will +tell you, in two words, that he has broken his leg; but a surgeon, after +a long discourse, shall leave you as ignorant as you were before." This +could only have been said, by such an exact observer of life, in +gratification of malignity, or in ostentation of acuteness. Every hour +produces instances of the necessity of terms of art. Mankind could never +conspire in uniform affectation; it is not but by necessity that every +science and every trade has its peculiar language. They that content +themselves with general ideas may rest in general terms; but those, +whose studies or employments force them upon closer inspection, must +have names for particular parts, and words by which they may express +various modes of combination, such as none but themselves have occasion +to consider. + +Artists are indeed sometimes ready to suppose that none can be strangers +to words to which themselves are familiar, talk to an incidental +inquirer as they talk to one another, and make their knowledge +ridiculous by injudicious obtrusion. An art cannot be taught but by its +proper terms, but it is not always necessary to teach the art. + +That the vulgar express their thoughts clearly, is far from true; and +what perspicuity can be found among them proceeds not from the easiness +of their language, but the shallowness of their thoughts. He that sees a +building as a common spectator, contents himself with relating that it +is great or little, mean or splendid, lofty or low; all these words are +intelligible and common, but they convey no distinct or limited ideas; +if he attempts, without the terms of architecture, to delineate the +parts, or enumerate the ornaments, his narration at once becomes +unintelligible. The terms, indeed, generally displease, because they are +understood by few; but they are little understood, only because few that +look upon an edifice examine its parts, or analyze its columns into +their members. + +The state of every other art is the same; as it is cursorily surveyed or +accurately examined, different forms of expression become proper. In +morality it is one thing to discuss the niceties of the casuist, and +another to direct the practice of common life. In agriculture, he that +instructs the farmer to plough and sow, may convey his notions without +the words which he would find necessary in explaining to philosophers +the process of vegetation; and if he, who has nothing to do but to be +honest by the shortest way, will perplex his mind with subtile +speculations; or if he, whose task is to reap and thrash, will not be +contented without examining the evolution of the seed and circulation of +the sap; the writers whom either shall consult are very little to be +blamed, though it should sometimes happen that they are read in vain. + + + + +No. 71. SATURDAY, AUGUST 25, 1759. + + Celan le selve angui, leoni, ed orsi + Dentro il lor verde. TASSO, L'AMINTA. + +Dick Shifter was born in Cheapside, and, having passed reputably through +all the classes of St. Paul's school, has been for some years a student +in the Temple. He is of opinion, that intense application dulls the +faculties, and thinks it necessary to temper the severity of the law by +books that engage the mind, but do not fatigue it. He has, therefore, +made a copious collection of plays, poems, and romances, to which he has +recourse when he fancies himself tired with statutes and reports; and he +seldom inquires very nicely whether he is weary or idle. + +Dick has received from his favourite authors very strong impressions of +a country life; and though his furthest excursions have been to +Greenwich on one side, and Chelsea on the other, he has talked for +several years, with great pomp of language and elevation of sentiments, +about a state too high for contempt and too low for envy, about homely +quiet and blameless simplicity, pastoral delights and rural innocence. + +His friends, who, had estates in the country, often invited him to pass +the summer among them, but something or other had always hindered him; +and he considered, that to reside in the house of another man was to +incur a kind of dependence inconsistent with that laxity of life which +he had imaged as the chief good. + +This summer he resolved to be happy, and procured a lodging to be taken +for him at a solitary house, situated about thirty miles from London, on +the banks of a small river, with corn-fields before it and a hill on +each side covered with wood. He concealed the place of his retirement, +that none might violate his obscurity, and promised himself many a happy +day when he should hide himself among the trees, and contemplate the +tumults and vexations of the town. + +He stepped into the post-chaise with his heart beating and his eyes +sparkling, was conveyed through many varieties of delightful prospects, +saw hills and meadows, cornfields and pasture, succeed each other, and +for four hours charged none of his poets with fiction or exaggeration. +He was now within six miles of happiness, when, having never felt so +much agitation before, he began to wish his journey at an end, and the +last hour was passed in changing his posture and quarrelling with his +driver. + +An hour may be tedious, but cannot be long. He at length alighted at his +new dwelling, and was received as he expected; he looked round upon the +hills and rivulets, but his joints were stiff and his muscles sore, and +his first request was to see his bed-chamber. + +He rested well, and ascribed the soundness of his sleep to the stillness +of the country. He expected from that time nothing but nights of quiet +and days of rapture, and, as soon as he had risen, wrote an account of +his new state to one of his friends in the Temple. + +"Dear Frank, + +"I never pitied thee before. I am now, as I could wish every man of +wisdom and virtue to be, in the regions of calm content and placid +meditation; with all the beauties of nature soliciting my notice, and +all the diversities of pleasure courting my acceptance; the birds are +chirping in the hedges, and the flowers blooming in the mead; the breeze +is whistling in the wood, and the sun dancing on the water. I can now +say, with truth, that a man, capable of enjoying the purity of +happiness, is never more busy than in his hours of leisure, nor ever +less solitary than in a place of solitude. + +I am, dear Frank, &c." + +When he had sent away his letter, he walked into the wood, with some +inconvenience, from the furze that pricked his legs, and the briars that +scratched his face. He at last sat down under a tree, and heard with +great delight a shower, by which he was not wet, rattling among the +branches: This, said he, is the true image of obscurity; we hear of +troubles and commotions, but never feel them. + +His amusement did not overpower the calls of nature, and he, therefore, +went back to order his dinner. He knew that the country produces +whatever is eaten or drunk, and, imagining that he was now at the source +of luxury, resolved to indulge himself with dainties which he supposed +might be procured at a price next to nothing, if any price at all was +expected; and intended to amaze the rusticks with his generosity, by +paying more than they would ask. Of twenty dishes which he named, he was +amazed to find that scarcely one was to be had; and heard, with +astonishment and indignation, that all the fruits of the earth were sold +at a higher price than in the streets of London. + +His meal was short and sullen; and he retired again to his tree, to +inquire how dearness could be consistent with abundance, or how fraud +should be practised by simplicity. He was not satisfied with his own +speculations, and, returning home early in the evening, went a while +from window to window, and found that he wanted something to do. + +He inquired for a newspaper, and was told that farmers never minded +news, but that they could send for it from the alehouse. A messenger was +despatched, who ran away at full speed, but loitered an hour behind the +hedges, and at last coming back with his feet purposely bemired, instead +of expressing the gratitude which Mr. Shifter expected for the bounty of +a shilling, said, that the night was wet, and the way dirty, and he +hoped that his worship would not think it much to give him half-a-crown. + +Dick now went to bed with some abatement of his expectations; but sleep, +I know not how, revives our hopes, and rekindles our desires. He rose +early in the morning, surveyed the landscape, and was pleased. He walked +out, and passed from field to field, without observing any beaten path, +and wondered that he had not seen the shepherdesses dancing, nor heard +the swains piping to their flocks. + +At last he saw some reapers and harvest-women at dinner. Here, said he, +are the true Arcadians; and advanced courteously towards them, as afraid +of confusing them by the dignity of his presence. They acknowledged his +superiority by no other token than that of asking him for something to +drink. He imagined that he had now purchased the privilege of discourse, +and began to descend to familiar questions, endeavouring to accommodate +his discourse to the grossness of rustick understandings. The clowns +soon found, that he did not know wheat from rye, and began to despise +him; one of the boys, by pretending to show him a bird's nest, decoyed +him into a ditch; and one of the wenches sold him a bargain. + +This walk had given him no great pleasure; but he hoped to find other +rusticks less coarse of manners, and less mischievous of disposition. +Next morning he was accosted by an attorney, who told him that, unless +he made farmer Dobson satisfaction for trampling his grass, he had +orders to indict him. Shifter was offended, but not terrified; and, +telling the attorney that he was himself a lawyer, talked so volubly of +pettyfoggers and barrators, that he drove him away. + +Finding his walks thus interrupted, he was inclined to ride, and, being +pleased with the appearance of a horse that was grazing in a +neighbouring meadow, inquired the owner, who warranted him sound, and +would not sell him, but that he was too fine for a plain man. Dick paid +down the price, and, riding out to enjoy the evening, fell with his new +horse into a ditch; they got out with difficulty, and, as he was going +to mount again, a countryman looked at the horse, and perceived him to +be blind. Dick went to the seller, and demanded back his money; but was +told, that a man who rented his ground must do the best for himself; +that his landlord had his rent though the year was barren; and that, +whether horses had eyes or no, he should sell them to the highest +bidder. + +Shifter now began to be tired with rustick simplicity, and on the fifth +day took possession again of his chambers, and bade farewell to the +regions of calm content and placid meditation. + + + + +No. 72. SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 1, 1759. + +Men complain of nothing more frequently than of deficient memory; and, +indeed, every one finds that many of the ideas which he desired to +retain have slipped irretrievably away; that the acquisitions of the +mind are sometimes equally fugitive with the gifts of fortune; and that +a short intermission of attention more certainly lessens knowledge than +impairs an estate. + +To assist this weakness of our nature, many methods have been proposed, +all of which may be justly suspected of being ineffectual; for no art of +memory, however its effects have been boasted or admired, has been ever +adopted into general use, nor have those who possessed it appeared to +excel others in readiness of recollection or multiplicity of +attainments. + +There is another art of which all have felt the want, though +Themistocles only confessed it. We suffer equal pain from the +pertinacious adhesion of unwelcome images, as from the evanescence of +those which are pleasing and useful; and it may be doubted whether we +should be more benefited by the art of memory or the art of +forgetfulness. + +Forgetfulness is necessary to remembrance. Ideas are retained by +renovation of that impression which time is always wearing away, and +which new images are striving to obliterate. If useless thoughts could +be expelled from the mind, all the valuable parts of our knowledge would +more frequently recur, and every recurrence would reinstate them in +their former place. + +It is impossible to consider, without some regret, how much might have +been learned, or how much might have been invented, by a rational and +vigorous application of time, uselessly or painfully passed in the +revocation of events, which have left neither good nor evil behind them, +in grief for misfortunes either repaired or irreparable, in resentment +of injuries known only to ourselves, of which death has put the authors +beyond our power. + +Philosophy has accumulated precept upon precept, to warn us against the +anticipation of future calamities. All useless misery is certainly +folly, and he that feels evils before they come may be deservedly +censured; yet surely to dread the future is more reasonable than to +lament the past. The business of life is to go forwards: he who sees +evil in prospect meets it in his way; but he who catches it by +retrospection turns back to find it. That which is feared may sometimes +be avoided, but that which is regretted to-day may be regretted again +to-morrow. + +Regret is indeed useful and virtuous, and not only allowable but +necessary, when it tends to the amendment of life, or to admonition of +errour which we may be again in danger of committing. But a very small +part of the moments spent in meditation on the past, produce any +reasonable caution or salutary sorrow. Most of the mortifications that +we have suffered, arose from the concurrence of local and temporary +circumstances, which can never meet again; and most of our +disappointments have succeeded those expectations, which life allows not +to be formed a second time. + +It would add much to human happiness, if an art could be taught of +forgetting all of which the remembrance is at once useless and +afflictive; if that pain which never can end in pleasure could be driven +totally away, that the mind might perform its functions without +incumbrance, and the past might no longer encroach upon the present. + +Little can be done well to which the whole mind is not applied; the +business of every day calls for the day to which it is assigned; and he +will have no leisure to regret yesterday's vexations who resolves not to +have a new subject of regret to-morrow. + +But to forget or to remember at pleasure, are equally beyond the power +of man. Yet as memory may be assisted by method, and the decays of +knowledge repaired by stated times of recollection, so the power of +forgetting is capable of improvement. Reason will, by a resolute +contest, prevail over imagination, and the power may be obtained of +transferring the attention as judgment shall direct. + +The incursions of troublesome thoughts are often violent and +importunate; and it is not easy to a mind accustomed to their inroads to +expel them immediately by putting better images into motion; but this +enemy of quiet is above all others weakened by every defeat; the +reflection which has been once overpowered and ejected, seldom returns +with any formidable vehemence. + +Employment is the great instrument of intellectual dominion. The mind +cannot retire from its enemy into total vacancy, or turn aside from one +object but by passing to another. The gloomy and the resentful are +always found among those who have nothing to do, or who do nothing. We +must be busy about good or evil, and he to whom the present offers +nothing will often be looking backward on the past. + + + + +No. 73. SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 8, 1759. + + That every man would be rich if a wish could obtain riches, is a +position which I believe few will contest, at least in a nation like +ours, in which commerce has kindled an universal emulation of wealth, +and in which money receives all the honours which are the proper right +of knowledge and of virtue. + +Yet, though we are all labouring for gold as for the chief good, and, by +the natural effort of unwearied diligence, have found many expeditious +methods of obtaining it, we have not been able to improve the art of +using it, or to make it produce more happiness than it afforded in +former times, when every declaimer expatiated on its mischiefs, and +every philosopher taught his followers to despise it. + +Many of the dangers imputed of old to exorbitant wealth, are now at an +end. The rich are neither waylaid by robbers, nor watched by informers; +there is nothing to be dreaded from proscriptions, or seizures. The +necessity of concealing treasure has long ceased; no man now needs +counterfeit mediocrity, and condemn his plate and jewels to caverns and +darkness, or feast his mind with the consciousness of clouded splendour, +of finery which is useless till it is shown, and which he dares not +show. + +In our time, the poor are strongly tempted to assume the appearance of +wealth, but the wealthy very rarely desire to be thought poor; for we +are all at full liberty to display riches by every mode of ostentation. +We fill our houses with useless ornaments, only to show that we can buy +them; we cover our coaches with gold, and employ artists in the +discovery of new fashions of expense; and yet it cannot be found that +riches produce happiness. + +Of riches, as of every thing else, the hope is more than the enjoyment: +while we consider them as the means to be used, at some future time, for +the attainment of felicity, we press on our pursuit ardently and +vigorously, and that ardour secures us from weariness of ourselves; but +no sooner do we sit down to enjoy our acquisitions, than we find them +insufficient to fill up the vacuities of life. + +One cause which is not always observed of the insufficiency of riches +is, that they very seldom make their owner rich. To be rich, is to have +more than is desired, and more than is wanted, to have something which +may be spent without reluctance, and scattered without care, with which +the sudden demands of desire may be gratified, the casual freaks of +fancy indulged, or the unexpected opportunities of benevolence improved. + +Avarice is always poor, but poor by her own fault. There is another +poverty to which the rich are exposed with less guilt by the +officiousness of others. Every man, eminent for exuberance of fortune, +is surrounded from morning to evening, and from evening to midnight, by +flatterers, whose art of adulation consists in exciting artificial +wants, and in forming new schemes of profusion. + +Tom Tranquil, when he came to age, found himself in possession of a +fortune, of which the twentieth part might perhaps have made him rich. +His temper is easy, and his affections soft; he receives every man with +kindness, and hears him with credulity. His friends took care to settle +him by giving him a wife, whom, having no particular inclination, he +rather accepted than chose, because he was told that she was proper for +him. + +He was now to live with dignity proportionate to his fortune. What his +fortune requires or admits Tom does not know, for he has little skill in +computation, and none of his friends think it their interest to improve +it. If he was suffered to live by his own choice, he would leave every +thing as he finds it, and pass through the world distinguished only by +inoffensive gentleness. But the ministers of luxury have marked him out +as one at whose expense they may exercise their arts. A companion, who +had just learned the names of the Italian masters, runs from sale to +sale, and buys pictures, for which Mr. Tranquil pays, without inquiring +where they shall be hung. Another fills his garden with statues, which +Tranquil wishes away, but dares not remove. One of his friends is +learning architecture by building him a house, which he passed by, and +inquired to whom it belonged; another has been for three years digging +canals and raising mounts, cutting trees down in one place, and planting +them in another, on which Tranquil looks with a serene indifference, +without asking what will be the cost. Another projector tells him that a +waterwork, like that of Versailles, will complete the beauties of his +seat, and lays his draughts before him: Tranquil turns his eyes upon +them, and the artist begins his explanations; Tranquil raises no +objections, but orders him to begin the work, that he may escape from +talk which he does not understand. + +Thus a thousand hands are busy at his expense, without adding to his +pleasures. He pays and receives visits, and has loitered in publick or +in solitude, talking in summer of the town, and in winter of the +country, without knowing that his fortune is impaired, till his steward +told him this morning, that he could pay the workmen no longer but by +mortgaging a manor. + + + + +No. 74. SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 15, 1759. + +In the mythological pedigree of learning, memory is made the mother of +the muses, by which the masters of ancient wisdom, perhaps, meant to +show the necessity of storing the mind copiously with true notions, +before the imagination should be suffered to form fictions or collect +embellishments; for the works of an ignorant poet can afford nothing +higher than pleasing sound, and fiction is of no other use than to +display the treasures of memory. + +The necessity of memory to the acquisition of knowledge is inevitably +felt and universally allowed, so that scarcely any other of the mental +faculties are commonly considered as necessary to a student: he that +admires the proficiency of another, always attributes it to the +happiness of his memory; and he that laments his own defects, concludes +with a wish that his memory was better. + +It is evident, that when the power of retention is weak, all the +attempts at eminence of knowledge must be vain; and as few are willing +to be doomed to perpetual ignorance, I may, perhaps, afford consolation +to some that have fallen too easily into despondence, by observing that +such weakness is, in my opinion, very rare, and that few have reason to +complain of nature as unkindly sparing of the gifts of memory. + +In the common business of life, we find the memory of one like that of +another, and honestly impute omissions not to involuntary forgetfulness, +but culpable inattention; but in literary inquiries, failure is imputed +rather to want of memory than of diligence. + +We consider ourselves as defective in memory, either because we remember +less than we desire, or less than we suppose others to remember. + +Memory is like all other human powers, with which no man can be +satisfied who measures them by what he can conceive, or by what he can +desire. He whose mind is most capacious, finds it much too narrow for +his wishes; he that remembers most, remembers little compared with what +he forgets. He, therefore, that, after the perusal of a book, finds few +ideas remaining in his mind, is not to consider the disappointment as +peculiar to himself, or to resign all hopes of improvement, because he +does not retain what even the author has, perhaps, forgotten. + +He who compares his memory with that of others, is often too hasty to +lament the inequality. Nature has sometimes, indeed, afforded examples +of enormous, wonderful and gigantick memory. Scaliger reports of +himself, that, in his youth, he could repeat above a hundred verses, +having once read them; and Barthicus declares, that he wrote his comment +upon Claudian without consulting the text. But not to have such degrees +of memory is no more to be lamented, than not to have the strength of +Hercules, or the swiftness of Achilles. He that, in the distribution of +good, has an equal share with common men, may justly be contented. Where +there is no striking disparity, it is difficult to know of two which +remembers most, and still more difficult to discover which reads with +greater attention, which has renewed the first impression by more +frequent repetitions, or by what accidental combination of ideas either +mind might have united any particular narrative or argument to its +former stock. + +But memory, however impartially distributed, so often deceives our +trust, that almost every man attempts, by some artifice or other, to +secure its fidelity. + +It is the practice of many readers to note, in the margin of their +books, the most important passages, the strongest arguments, or the +brightest sentiments. Thus they load their minds with superfluous +attention, repress the vehemence of curiosity by useless deliberation, +and by frequent interruption break the current of narration or the chain +of reason, and at last close the volume, and forget the passages and +marks together. + +Others I have found unalterably persuaded, that nothing is certainly +remembered but what is transcribed; and they have, therefore, passed +weeks and months in transferring large quotations to a commonplace-book. +Yet, why any part of a book, which can be consulted at pleasure, should +be copied, I was never able to discover. The hand has no closer +correspondence with the memory than the eye. The act of writing itself +distracts the thoughts, and what is read twice is commonly better +remembered than what is transcribed. This method, therefore, consumes +time without assisting memory. + +The true art of memory is the art of attention. No man will read with +much advantage, who is not able, at pleasure, to evacuate his mind, or +who brings not to his author an intellect defecated and pure, neither +turbid with care, nor agitated by pleasure. If the repositories of +thought are already full, what can they receive? If the mind is employed +on the past or future, the book will be held before the eyes in vain. +What is read with delight is commonly retained, because pleasure always +secures attention; but the books which are consulted by occasional +necessity, and perused with impatience, seldom leave any traces on the +mind. + + + + +No. 75. SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 22, 1759. + +In the time when Bassora was considered as the school of Asia, and +flourished by the reputation of its professors and the confluence of its +students, among the pupils that listened round the chair of Albumazar +was Gelaleddin, a native of Tauris, in Persia, a young man amiable in +his manners and beautiful in his form, of boundless curiosity, incessant +diligence, and irresistible genius, of quick apprehension and tenacious +memory, accurate without narrowness, and eager for novelty without +inconstancy. + +No sooner did Gelaleddin appear at Bassora, than his virtues and +abilities raised him to distinction. He passed from class to class +rather admired than envied by those whom the rapidity of his progress +left behind; he was consulted by his fellow-students as an oraculous +guide, and admitted as a competent auditor to the conferences of the +sages. + +After a few years, having passed through all the exercises of probation, +Gelaleddin was invited to a professor's seat, and entreated to increase +the splendour of Bassora. Gelaleddin affected to deliberate on the +proposal, with which, before he considered it, he resolved to comply; +and next morning retired to a garden planted for the recreation of the +students, and, entering a solitary walk, began to meditate upon his +future life. + +"If I am thus eminent," said he, "in the regions of literature, I shall +be yet more conspicuous in any other place; if I should now devote +myself to study and retirement, I must pass my life in silence, +unacquainted with the delights of wealth, the influence of power, the +pomp of greatness, and the charms of elegance, with all that man envies +and desires, with all that keeps the world in motion, by the hope of +gaining or the fear of losing it. I will, therefore, depart to Tauris, +where the Persian monarch resides in all the splendour of absolute +dominion: my reputation will fly before me, my arrival will be +congratulated by my kinsmen and my friends; I shall see the eyes of +those who predict my greatness sparkling with exultation, and the faces +of those that once despised me clouded with envy, or counterfeiting +kindness by artificial smiles. I will show my wisdom by my discourse, +and my moderation by my silence; I will instruct the modest with easy +gentleness, and repress the ostentatious by seasonable superciliousness. +My apartments will be crowded by the inquisitive and the vain, by those +that honour and those that rival me; my name will soon reach the court; +I shall stand before the throne of the emperour: the judges of the law +will confess my wisdom, and the nobles will contend to heap gifts upon +me. If I shall find that my merit, like that of others, excites +malignity, or feel myself tottering on the seat of elevation, I may at +last retire to academical obscurity, and become, in my lowest state, a +professor of Bassora." + +Having thus settled his determination, he declared to his friends his +design of visiting Tauris, and saw with more pleasure than he ventured +to express, the regret with which he was dismissed. He could not bear to +delay the honours to which he was destined, and, therefore, hastened +away, and in a short time entered the capital of Persia. He was +immediately immersed in the crowd, and passed unobserved to his father's +house. He entered, and was received, though not unkindly, yet without +any excess of fondness or exclamations of rapture. His father had, in +his absence, suffered many losses, and Gelaleddin was considered as an +additional burden to a falling family. + +When he recovered from his surprise, he began to display his +acquisitions, and practised all the arts of narration and disquisition: +but the poor have no leisure to be pleased with eloquence; they heard +his arguments without reflection, and his pleasantries without a smile. +He then applied himself singly to his brothers and sisters, but found +them all chained down by invariable attention to their own fortunes, and +insensible of any other excellence than that which could bring some +remedy for indigence. + +It was now known in the neighbourhood that Gelaleddin was returned, and +he sat for some days in expectation that the learned would visit him for +consultation, or the great for entertainment. But who will be pleased or +instructed in the mansions of poverty? He then frequented places of +publick resort, and endeavoured to attract notice by the copiousness of +his talk. The sprightly were silenced, and went away to censure, in some +other place, his arrogance and his pedantry; and the dull listened +quietly for a while, and then wondered why any man should take pains to +obtain so much knowledge which would never do him good. + +He next solicited the visiers for employment, not doubting but his +service would be eagerly accepted. He was told by one that there was no +vacancy in his office; by another, that his merit was above any +patronage but that of the emperour; by a third, that he would not forget +him; and by the chief visier, that he did not think literature of any +great use in publick business. He was sometimes admitted to their +tables, where he exerted his wit and diffused his knowledge; but he +observed, that where, by endeavour or accident, he had remarkably +excelled, he was seldom invited a second time. + +He now returned to Bassora, wearied and disgusted, but confident of +resuming his former rank, and revelling again in satiety of praise. But +he who had been neglected at Tauris, was not much regarded at Bassora; +he was considered as a fugitive, who returned only because he could live +in no other place; his companions found that they had formerly overrated +his abilities, and he lived long without notice or esteem. + + + + +No. 76. SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 29, 1759. + +TO THE IDLER, + +Sir, + +I was much pleased with your ridicule of those shallow criticks, whose +judgment, though often right as far as it goes, yet reaches only to +inferior beauties, and who, unable to comprehend the whole, judge only +by parts, and from thence determine the merit of extensive works. But +there is another kind of critick still worse, who judges by narrow +rules, and those too often false, and which, though they should be true, +and founded on nature, will lead him but a very little way toward the +just estimation of the sublime beauties in works of genius; for whatever +part of an art can be executed or criticised by rules, that part is no +longer the work of genius, which implies excellence out of the reach of +rules. For my own part, I profess myself an Idler, and love to give my +judgment, such as it is, from my immediate perceptions, without much +fatigue of thinking; and I am of opinion that, if a man has not those +perceptions right, it will be vain for him to endeavour to supply their +place by rules, which may enable him to talk more learnedly, but not to +distinguish more acutely. Another reason which has lessened my affection +for the study of criticism is, that criticks, so far as I have observed, +debar themselves from receiving any pleasure from the polite arts, at +the same time, that they profess to love and admire them: for these +rules, being always uppermost, give them such a propensity to criticise, +that, instead of giving up the reins of their imagination into their +author's hands, their frigid minds are employed in examining whether the +performance be according to the rules of art. + +To those who are resolved to be criticks in spite of nature, and, at the +same time, have no great disposition to much reading and study, I would +recommend to them to assume the character of connoisseur, which may be +purchased at a much cheaper rate than that of a critick in poetry. The +remembrance of a few names of painters, with their general characters, +with a few rules of the academy, which they may pick up among the +painters, will go a great way towards making a very notable connoisseur. + +With a gentleman of this cast, I visited last week the Cartoons at +Hampton-court; he was just returned from Italy, a connoisseur of course, +and of course his mouth full of nothing but the grace of Raffaelle, the +purity of Domenichino, the learning of Poussin, the air of Guido, the +greatness of taste of the Carraccis, and the sublimity and grand +contorno of Michael Angelo; with all the rest of the cant of criticism, +which he emitted with that volubility which generally those orators have +who annex no ideas to their words. + +As we were passing through the rooms, in our way to the gallery, I made +him observe a whole length of Charles the First by Vandyke, as a perfect +representation of the character as well as the figure of the man. He +agreed it was very fine, but it wanted spirit and contrast, and had not +the flowing line, without which a figure could not possibly be graceful. +When we entered the gallery, I thought I could perceive him recollecting +his rules by which he was to criticise Raffaelle. I shall pass over his +observation of the boats being too little, and other criticisms of that +kind, till we arrive at St. Paul preaching. + +"This," says he, "is esteemed the most excellent of all the cartoons; +what nobleness, what dignity, there is in that figure of St. Paul! and +yet what an addition to that nobleness could Raffaelle have given, had +the art of contrast been known in his time! but, above all, the flowing +line which constitutes grace and beauty! You would not have then seen an +upright figure standing equally on both legs, and both hands stretched +forward in the same direction, and his drapery, to all appearance, +without the least art of disposition." The following picture is the +Charge to Peter. "Here," says he, "are twelve upright figures; what a +pity it is that Raffaelle was not acquainted with the pyramidal +principle! He would then have contrived the figures in the middle to +have been on higher ground, or the figures at the extremities stooping +or lying, which would not only have formed the group into the shape of a +pyramid, but likewise contrasted the standing figures. Indeed," added +he, "I have often lamented that so great a genius as Raffaelle had not +lived in this enlightened age, since the art has been reduced to +principles, and had had his education in one of the modern academies; +what glorious works might we have then expected from his divine pencil!" + +I shall trouble you no longer with my friend's observations, which, I +suppose, you are now able to continue by yourself. It is curious to +observe, that, at the same time that great admiration is pretended for a +name of fixed reputation, objections are raised against those very +qualities by which that great name was acquired. + +Those criticks are continually lamenting that Raffaelle had not the +colouring and harmony of Rubens, or the light and shadow of Rembrant, +without considering how much the gay harmony of the former, and +affectation of the latter, would take from the dignity of Raffaelle; and +yet Rubens had great harmony, and Rembrant understood light and shadow: +but what may be an excellence in a lower class of painting, becomes a +blemish in a higher; as the quick, sprightly turn, which is the life and +beauty of epigrammatick compositions, would but ill suit with the +majesty of heroick poetry. + +To conclude; I would not be thought to infer, from any thing that has +been said, that rules are absolutely unnecessary; but to censure +scrupulosity, a servile attention to minute exactness, which is +sometimes inconsistent with higher excellency, and is lost in the blaze +of expanded genius. + +I do not know whether you will think painting a general subject. By +inserting this letter, perhaps, you will incur the censure a man would +deserve, whose business being to entertain a whole room, should turn his +back to the company, and talk to a particular person[1]. + +I am, Sir, &c. + +[1] By Sir Joshua Reynolds. + + + + +No. 77. SATURDAY, OCTOBER 6, 1759. + +Easy poetry is universally admired; but I know not whether any rule has +yet been fixed, by which it may be decided when poetry can be properly +called easy. Horace has told us, that it is such as "every reader hopes +to equal, but after long labour finds unattainable." This is a very +loose description, in which only the effect is noted; the qualities +which produce this effect remain to be investigated. + +Easy poetry is that in which natural thoughts are expressed without +violence to the language. The discriminating character of ease consists +principally in the diction; for all true poetry requires that the +sentiments be natural. Language suffers violence by harsh or by daring +figures, by transposition, by unusual acceptations of words, and by any +licence, which would be avoided by a writer of prose. Where any artifice +appears in the construction of the verse, that verse is no longer easy. +Any epithet which can be ejected without diminution of the sense, any +curious iteration of the same word, and all unusual, though not +ungrammatical structure of speech, destroy the grace of easy poetry. + +The first lines of Pope's Iliad afford examples of many licences which +an easy writer must decline: + + Achilles' _wrath_, to Greece the _direful spring_ + Of woes unnumber'd, _heav'nly_ Goddess sing; + The wrath which _hurl'd_ to Pluto's _gloomy reign_ + The souls of _mighty_ chiefs untimely slain. + +In the first couplet the language is distorted by inversions, clogged +with superfluities, and clouded by a harsh metaphor; and in the second +there are two words used in an uncommon sense, and two epithets inserted +only to lengthen the line; all these practices may in a long work easily +be pardoned, but they always produce some degree of obscurity and +ruggedness. + +Easy poetry has been so long excluded by ambition of ornament, and +luxuriance of imagery, that its nature seems now to be forgotten. +Affectation, however opposite to ease, is sometimes mistaken for it; and +those who aspire to gentle elegance, collect female phrases and +fashionable barbarisms, and imagine that style to be easy which custom +has made familiar. Such was the idea of the poet who wrote the following +verses to a _countess cutting paper_: + + Pallas grew _vap'rish once and odd_, + She would not _do the least right thing_ + Either for Goddess or for God, + Nor work, nor play, nor paint, nor sing. + + Jove frown'd, and "Use (he cried) those eyes + So skilful, and those hands so taper; + Do something exquisite and wise"-- + She bow'd, obey'd him, and cut paper. + + This vexing him who gave her birth, + Thought by all Heaven a _burning shame_, + _What does she next_, but bids on earth + Her Burlington do just the same? + + Pallas, you give yourself _strange airs_; + But sure you'll find it hard to spoil + The sense and taste of one that bears + The name of Savile and of Boyle. + + Alas! one bad example shown, + How quickly all the sex pursue! + See, madam! see the arts o'erthrown + Between John Overton and _you_. + +It is the prerogative of easy poetry to be understood as long as the +language lasts; but modes of speech, which owe their prevalence only to +modish folly, or to the eminence of those that use them, die away with +their inventors, and their meaning, in a few years, is no longer known. + +Easy poetry is commonly sought in petty compositions upon minute +subjects; but ease, though it excludes pomp, will admit greatness. Many +lines in Cato's soliloquy are at once easy and sublime: + + 'Tis the Divinity that stirs within us; + 'Tis Heaven itself that points out an hereafter, + And intimates eternity to man. + --If there's a Power above us, + And that there is all Nature cries aloud + Through all her works, he must delight in virtue, + And that which he delights in must be happy. + +Nor is ease more contrary to wit than to sublimity; the celebrated +stanza of Cowley, on a lady elaborately dressed, loses nothing of its +freedom by the spirit of the sentiment: + + Th' adorning thee with so much art + Is but a barb'rous skill; + 'Tis like the pois'ning of a dart, + Too apt before to kill. + +Cowley seems to have possessed the power of writing easily beyond any +other of our poets; yet his pursuit of remote thought led him often into +harshness of expression. + +Waller often attempted, but seldom attained it; for he is too frequently +driven into transpositions. The poets, from the time of Dryden, have +gradually advanced in embellishment, and consequently departed from +simplicity and ease. + +To require from any author many pieces of easy poetry, would be indeed +to oppress him with too hard a task. It is less difficult to write a +volume of lines swelled with epithets, brightened by figures, and +stiffened by transpositions, than to produce a few couplets graced only +by naked elegance and simple purity, which require so much care and +skill, that I doubt whether any of our authors have yet been able, for +twenty lines together, nicely to observe the true definition of easy +poetry. + + + + +No. 78. SATURDAY, OCTOBER 13, 1759. + + I have passed the summer in one of those places to which a mineral +spring gives the idle and luxurious an annual reason for resorting, +whenever they fancy themselves offended by the heat of London. What is +the true motive of this periodical assembly, I have never yet been able +to discover. The greater part of the visitants neither feel diseases nor +fear them. What pleasure can be expected more than the variety of the +journey, I know not, for the numbers are too great for privacy, and too +small for diversion. As each is known to be a spy upon the rest, they +all live in continual restraint; and having but a narrow range for +censure, they gratify its cravings by preying on one another. + +But every condition has some advantages. In this confinement, a smaller +circle affords opportunities for more exact observation. The glass that +magnifies its object contracts the sight to a point; and the mind must +be fixed upon a single character to remark its minute peculiarities. The +quality or habit which passes unobserved in the tumult of successive +multitudes, becomes conspicuous when it is offered to the notice day +after day; and, perhaps, I have, without any distinct notice, seen +thousands like my late companions; for when the scene can be varied at +pleasure, a slight disgust turns us aside before a deep impression can +be made upon the mind. + +There was a select set, supposed to be distinguished by superiority of +intellects, who always passed the evening together. To be admitted to +their conversation was the highest honour of the place; many youths +aspired to distinction, by pretending to occasional invitations; and the +ladies were often wishing to be men, that they might partake the +pleasures of learned society. + +I know not whether by merit or destiny, I was, soon after my arrival, +admitted to this envied party, which I frequented till I had learned the +art by which each endeavoured to support his character. + +Tom Steady was a vehement assertor of uncontroverted truth; and by +keeping himself out of the reach of contradiction had acquired all the +confidence which the consciousness of irresistible abilities could have +given. I was once mentioning a man of eminence, and, after having +recounted his virtues, endeavoured to represent him fully, by mentioning +his faults. "Sir," said Mr. Steady, "that he has faults I can easily +believe, for who is without them? No man, Sir, is now alive, among the +innumerable multitudes that swarm upon the earth, however wise, or +however good, who has not, in some degree, his failings and his faults. +If there be any man faultless, bring him forth into publick view, show +him openly, and let him be known; but I will venture to affirm, and, +till the contrary be plainly shown, shall always maintain, that no such +man is to be found. Tell not me, Sir, of impeccability and perfection; +such talk is for those that are strangers in the world: I have seen +several nations, and conversed with all ranks of people; I have known +the great and the mean, the learned and the ignorant, the old and the +young, the clerical and the lay; but I have never found a man without a +fault; and I suppose shall die in the opinion, that to be human is to be +frail." + +To all this nothing could be opposed. I listened with a hanging head; +Mr. Steady looked round on the hearers with triumph, and saw every eye +congratulating his victory; he departed, and spent the next morning in +following those who retired from the company, and telling them, with +injunctions of secrecy, how poor Spritely began to take liberties with +men wiser than himself; but that he suppressed him by a decisive +argument, which put him totally to silence. + +Dick Snug is a man of sly remark and pithy sententiousness: he never +immerges himself in the stream of conversation, but lies to catch his +companions in the eddy: he is often very successful in breaking +narratives and confounding eloquence. A gentleman, giving the history of +one of his acquaintance, made mention of a lady that had many lovers: +"Then," said Dick, "she was either handsome or rich." This observation +being well received, Dick watched the progress of the tale; and, hearing +of a man lost in a shipwreck, remarked, that "no man was ever drowned +upon dry land." + +Will Startle is a man of exquisite sensibility, whose delicacy of frame +and quickness of discernment subject him to impressions from the +slightest causes; and who, therefore, passes his life between rapture +and horrour, in quiverings of delight, or convulsions of disgust. His +emotions are too violent for many words; his thoughts are always +discovered by exclamations. _Vile, odious, horrid, detestable_, and +_sweet, charming, delightful, astonishing_, compose almost his whole +vocabulary, which he utters with various contortions and gesticulations, +not easily related or described. + +Jack Solid is a man of much reading, who utters nothing but quotations; +but having been, I suppose, too confident of his memory, he has for some +time neglected his books, and his stock grows every day more scanty. + +Mr. Solid has found an opportunity every night to repeat, from Hudibras, + + Doubtless the pleasure is as great + Of being cheated, as to cheat; + +and from Waller, + + Poets lose half the praise they would have got, + Were it but known what they discreetly blot. + +Dick Misty is a man of deep research, and forcible penetration. Others +are content with superficial appearances; but Dick holds, that there is +no effect without a cause, and values himself upon his power of +explaining the difficult and displaying the abstruse. Upon a dispute +among us, which of two young strangers was more beautiful, "You," says +Mr. Misty, turning to me, "like Amaranthia better than Chloris. I do not +wonder at the preference, for the cause is evident: there is in man a +perception of harmony, and a sensibility of perfection, which touches +the finer fibres of the mental texture; and before reason can descend +from her throne, to pass her sentence upon the things compared, drives +us towards the object proportioned to our faculties, by an impulse +gentle, yet irresistible; for the harmonick system of the Universe, and +the reciprocal magnetism of similar natures, are always operating +towards conformity and union; nor can the powers of the soul cease from +agitation, till they find something on which they can repose." To this +nothing was opposed; and Amaranthia was acknowledged to excel Chloris. + +Of the rest you may expect an account from, + +Sir, yours, + +ROBIN SPRITELY. + + + + +No. 79. SATURDAY, OCTOBER 20, 1759. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Sir, + +Your acceptance of a former letter on painting gives me encouragement to +offer a few more sketches on the same subject. + +Amongst the painters, and the writers on painting, there is one maxim +universally admitted and continually inculcated. _Imitate nature_ is the +invariable rule; but I know none who have explained in what manner this +rule is to be understood; the consequence of which is, that every one +takes it in the most obvious sense, that objects are represented +naturally when they have such relief that they seem real. It may appear +strange, perhaps, to hear this sense of the rule disputed; but it must +be considered, that, if the excellency of a painter consisted only in +this kind of imitation, painting must lose its rank, and be no longer +considered as a liberal art, and sister to poetry, this imitation being +merely mechanical, in which the slowest intellect is always sure to +succeed best: for the painter of genius cannot stoop to drudgery, in +which the understanding has no part; and what pretence has the art to +claim kindred with poetry, but by its powers over the imagination? To +this power the painter of genius directs his aim; in this sense he +studies nature, and often arrives at his end, even by being unnatural in +the confined sense of the word. + +The grand style of painting requires this minute attention to be +carefully avoided, and must be kept as separate from it as the style of +poetry from that of history. Poetical ornaments destroy that air of +truth and plainness which ought to characterize history; but the very +being of poetry consists in departing from this plain narration, and +adopting every ornament that will warm the imagination. To desire to see +the excellencies of each style united, to mingle the Dutch with the +Italian school, is to join contrarieties which cannot subsist together, +and which destroy the efficacy of each other. The Italian attends only +to the invariable, the great and general ideas which are fixed and +inherent in universal nature; the Dutch, on the contrary, to literal +truth and a minute exactness in the detail, as I may say, of nature +modified by accident. The attention to these petty peculiarities is the +very cause of this naturalness so much admired in the Dutch pictures, +which, if we suppose it to be a beauty, is certainly of a lower order, +which ought to give place to a beauty of a superior kind, since one +cannot be obtained but by departing from the other. + +If my opinion was asked concerning the works of Michael Angelo, whether +they would receive any advantage from possessing this mechanical merit, +I should not scruple to say, they would not only receive no advantage, +but would lose, in a great measure, the effect which they now have on +every mind susceptible of great and noble ideas. His works may be said +to be all genius and soul; and why should they be loaded with heavy +matter, which can only counteract his purpose by retarding the progress +of the imagination? + +If this opinion should be thought one of the wild extravagancies of +enthusiasm, I shall only say, that those who censure it are not +conversant in the works of the great masters. It is very difficult to +determine the exact degree of enthusiasm that the arts of painting and +poetry may admit. There may, perhaps, be too great an indulgence, as +well as too great a restraint of imagination; and if the one produces +incoherent monsters, the other produces what is full as bad, lifeless +insipidity. An intimate knowledge of the passions, and good sense, but +not common sense, must at last determine its limits. It has been +thought, and I believe with reason, that Michael Angelo sometimes +trangressed those limits; and I think I have seen figures of him of +which it was very difficult to determine whether they were in the +highest degree sublime or extremely ridiculous. Such faults may be said +to be the ebullitions of genius; but at least he had this merit, that he +never was insipid, and whatever passion his works may excite, they will +always escape contempt. + +What I have had under consideration is the sublimest style, particularly +that of Michael Angelo, the Homer of painting. Other kinds may admit of +this naturalness, which of the lowest kind is the chief merit; but in +painting, as in poetry, the highest style has the least of common +nature. + +One may very safely recommend a little more enthusiasm to the modern +painters; too much is certainly not the vice of the present age. The +Italians seem to have been continually declining, in this respect, from +the time of Michael Angelo to that of Carlo Maratti, and from thence to +the very bathos of insipidity to which they are now sunk; so that there +is no need of remarking, that, where I mentioned the Italian painters in +opposition to the Dutch, I mean not the moderns, but the heads of the +old Roman and Bolognian schools; nor did I mean to include in my idea of +an Italian painter, the Venetian school, which may be said to be the +Dutch part of the Italian genius. I have only to add a word of advice to +the painters, that, however excellent they may be in painting naturally, +they would not flatter themselves very much upon it, and to the +connoisseurs, that when they see a cat or fiddle painted so finely, +that, as the phrase is, "it looks as if you could take it up," they +would not for that reason immediately compare the painter to Raffaelle +and Michael Angelo.[1] + +[1] By Sir Joshua Reynolds. + + + + +No. 80. SATURDAY, OCTOBER 27, 1759. + +That every day has its pains and sorrows is universally experienced, and +almost universally confessed; but let us not attend only to mournful +truths; if we look impartially about us, we shall find that every day +has likewise its pleasures and its joys. + +The time is now come when the town is again beginning to be full, and +the rusticated beauty sees an end of her banishment. Those whom the +tyranny of fashion had condemned to pass the summer among shades and +brooks, are now preparing to return to plays, balls and assemblies, with +health restored by retirement, and spirits kindled by expectation. + +Many a mind, which has languished some months without emotion or desire, +now feels a sudden renovation of its faculties. It was long ago observed +by Pythagoras, that ability and necessity dwell near each other. She +that wandered in the garden without sense of its fragrance, and lay day +after day stretched upon a couch behind a green curtain, unwilling to +wake, and unable to sleep, now summons her thoughts to consider which of +her last year's clothes shall be seen again, and to anticipate the +raptures of a new suit; the day and the night are now filled with +occupation; the laces, which were too fine to be worn among rusticks, +are taken from the boxes and reviewed; and the eye is no sooner closed +after its labours, than whole shops of silk busy the fancy. + +But happiness is nothing, if it is not known, and very little, if it is +not envied. Before the day of departure a week is always appropriated to +the payment and reception of ceremonial visits, at which nothing can be +mentioned but the delights of London. The lady who is hastening to the +scene of action flutters her wings, displays her prospects of felicity, +tells how she grudges every moment of delay, and, in the presence of +those whom she knows condemned to stay at home, is sure to wonder by +what arts life can be made supportable through a winter in the country, +and to tell how often, amidst the ecstasies of an opera, she shall pity +those friends whom she has left behind. Her hope of giving pain is +seldom disappointed; the affected indifference of one, the faint +congratulations of another, the wishes of some openly confessed, and the +silent dejection of the rest, all exalt her opinion of her own +superiority. + +But, however we may labour for our own deception, truth, though +unwelcome, will sometimes intrude upon the mind. They who have already +enjoyed the crowds and noise of the great city, know that their desire +to return is little more than the restlessness of a vacant mind, that +they are not so much led by hope as driven by disgust, and wish rather +to leave the country than to see the town. There is commonly in every +coach a passenger enwrapped in silent expectation, whose joy is more +sincere, and whose hopes are more exalted. The virgin whom the last +summer released from her governess, and who is now going between her +mother and her aunt to try the fortune of her wit and beauty, suspects +no fallacy in the gay representation. She believes herself passing into +another world, and images London as an elysian region, where every hour +has its proper pleasure, where nothing is seen but the blaze of wealth, +and nothing heard but merriment and flattery; where the morning always +rises on a show, and the evening closes on a ball; where the eyes are +used only to sparkle, and the feet only to dance. + +Her aunt and her mother amuse themselves on the road, with telling her +of dangers to be dreaded, and cautions to be observed. She hears them as +they heard their predecessors, with incredulity or contempt. She sees +that they have ventured and escaped; and one of the pleasures which she +promises herself is to detect their falsehoods, and be freed from their +admonitions. + +We are inclined to believe those whom we do not know, because they have +never deceived us. The fair adventurer may, perhaps, listen to the +Idler, whom she cannot suspect of rivalry or malice; yet he scarcely +expects to be credited when he tells her, that her expectations will +likewise end in disappointment. + +The uniform necessities of human nature produce, in a great measure, +uniformity of life, and for part of the day make one place like another; +to dress and to undress, to eat and to sleep, are the same in London as +in the country. The supernumerary hours have, indeed, a great variety +both of pleasure and of pain. The stranger, gazed on by multitudes at +her first appearance in the Park, is, perhaps, on the highest summit of +female happiness; but how great is the anguish when the novelty of +another face draws her worshippers away! The heart may leap for a time +under a fine gown; but the sight of a gown yet finer puts an end to +rapture. In the first row at an opera, two hours may be happily passed +in listening to the musick on the stage, and watching the glances of the +company; but how will the night end in despondency when she, that +imagined herself the sovereign of the place, sees lords contending to +lead Iris to her chair! There is little pleasure in conversation, to her +whose wit is regarded but in the second place; and who can dance with +ease or spirit that sees Amaryllis led out before her? She that fancied +nothing but a succession of pleasures, will find herself engaged without +design in numberless competitions, and mortified, without provocation, +with numberless afflictions. + +But I do not mean to extinguish that ardour which I wish to moderate, or +to discourage those whom I am endeavouring to restrain. To know the +world is necessary, since we were born for the help of one another; and +to know it early is convenient, if it be only that we may learn early to +despise it. She that brings to London a mind well prepared for +improvement, though she misses her hope of uninterrupted happiness, will +gain in return an opportunity of adding knowledge to vivacity, and +enlarging innocence to virtue. + + + + +No. 81. SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 3, 1759. + +As the English army was passing towards Quebec along a soft savanna +between a mountain and a lake, one of the petty chiefs of the inland +regions stood upon a rock surrounded by his clan, and from behind the +shelter of the bushes contemplated the art and regularity of European +war. It was evening, the tents were pitched: he observed the security +with which the troops rested in the night, and the order with which the +march was renewed in the morning. He continued to pursue them with his +eye till they could be seen no longer, and then stood for some time +silent and pensive. + +Then turning to his followers, "My children," said he, "I have often +heard from men hoary with long life, that there was a time when our +ancestors were absolute lords of the woods, the meadows and the lakes, +wherever the eye can reach or the foot can pass. They fished and hunted, +feasted and danced, and when they were weary lay down under the first +thicket, without danger and without fear. They changed their +habitations, as the seasons required, convenience prompted, or curiosity +allured them; and sometimes gathered the fruits of the mountain, and +sometimes sported in canoes along the coast. + +"Many years and ages are supposed to have been thus passed in plenty and +security; when, at last, a new race of men entered our country from the +great ocean. They inclosed themselves in habitations of stone, which our +ancestors could neither enter by violence, nor destroy by fire. They +issued from those fastnesses, sometimes covered, like the armadillo, +with shells, from which the lance rebounded on the striker, and +sometimes carried by mighty beasts which had never been seen in our +vales or forests, of such strength and swiftness, that flight and +opposition were vain alike. Those invaders ranged over the continent +slaughtering, in their rage, those that resisted, and those that +submitted, in their mirth. Of those that remained, some were buried in +caverns, and condemned to dig metals for their masters; some were +employed in tilling the ground, of which foreign tyrants devour the +produce; and, when the sword and the mines have destroyed the natives, +they supply their place by human beings of another colour, brought from +some distant country to perish here under toil and torture. + +"Some there are who boast their humanity, and content themselves to +seize our chases and fisheries, who drive us from every tract of ground +where fertility and pleasantness invite them to settle, and make no war +upon us except when we intrude upon our own lands. + +"Others pretend to have purchased a right of residence and tyranny; but +surely the insolence of such bargains is more offensive than the avowed +and open dominion of force. What reward can induce the possessour of a +country to admit a stranger more powerful than himself? Fraud or terrour +must operate in such contracts; either they promised protection which +they never have afforded, or instruction which they never imparted. We +hoped to be secured by their favour from some other evil, or to learn +the arts of Europe, by which we might be able to secure ourselves. Their +power they never have exerted in our defence, and their arts they have +studiously concealed from us. Their treaties are only to deceive, and +their traffick only to defraud us. They have a written law among them, +of which they boast, as derived from Him who made the earth and sea, and +by which they profess to believe that man will be made happy when life +shall forsake him. Why is not this law communicated to us? It is +concealed because it is violated. For how can they preach it to an +Indian nation, when I am told that one of its first precepts forbids +them to do to others what they would not that others should do to them? + +"But the time, perhaps, is now approaching, when the pride of usurpation +shall be crushed, and the cruelties of invasion shall be revenged. The +sons of rapacity have now drawn their swords upon each other, and +referred their claims to the decision of war; let us look unconcerned +upon the slaughter, and remember that the death of every European +delivers the country from a tyrant and a robber; for what is the claim +of either nation, but the claim of the vulture to the leveret, of the +tiger to the fawn? Let them then continue to dispute their title to +regions which they cannot people, to purchase by danger and blood the +empty dignity of dominion over mountains which they will never climb, +and rivers which they will never pass. Let us endeavour, in the mean +time, to learn their discipline, and to forge their weapons; and, when +they shall be weakened with mutual slaughter, let us rush down upon +them, force their remains to take shelter in their ships, and reign once +more in our native country[1]." + +[1] "How far the seizing on countries already peopled, and driving out + or massacring the innocent and defenceless natives, merely because + they differed from their invaders in language, in religion, in + customs, in government or in colour; how far such a conduct was + consonant to nature, to reason or to Christianity, deserved well to + be considered by those who have rendered their names immortal by + thus civilizing mankind." Blackstone, Com. ii. 7. + + I love the University of Salamanca, said Johnson, with warm emotion, + for when the Spaniards were in doubt as to the lawfulness of their + conquering America, the University of Salamanca gave it as their + opinion, that it was not lawful. Boswell, i. 434. + + The untaught eloquence of Indian feeling is well preserved in the + language of Gertrude of Wyoming. + + + +No. 82. SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 10, 1759. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Sir, + +Discoursing in my last letter on the different practice of the Italian +and Dutch painters, I observed, that "the Italian painter attends only +to the invariable, the great and general ideas which are fixed and +inherent in universal nature." + +I was led into the subject of this letter by endeavouring to fix the +original cause of this conduct of the Italian masters. If it can be +proved that by this choice they selected the most beautiful part of the +creation, it will show how much their principles are founded on reason, +and, at the same time, discover the origin of our ideas of beauty. + +I suppose it will be easily granted, that no man can judge whether any +animal be beautiful in its kind, or deformed, who has seen only one of +that species: this is as conclusive in regard to the human figure; so +that if a man, born blind, was to recover his sight, and the most +beautiful woman was brought before him, he could not determine whether +she was handsome or not; nor, if the most beautiful and most deformed +were produced, could he any better determine to which he should give the +preference, having seen only those two. To distinguish beauty, then, +implies the having seen many individuals of that species. If it is +asked, how is more skill acquired by the observation of greater numbers? +I answer that, in consequence of having seen many, the power is +acquired, even without seeking after it, of distinguishing between +accidental blemishes and excrescences which are continually varying the +surface of Nature's works, and the invariable general form which Nature +most frequently produces, and always seems to intend in her productions. + +Thus, amongst the blades of grass or leaves of the same tree, though no +two can be found exactly alike, yet the general form is invariable: a +naturalist, before he chose one as a sample, would examine many, since, +if he took the first that occurred, it might have, by accident or +otherwise, such a form as that it would scarcely be known to belong to +that species; he selects, as the painter does, the most beautiful, that +is, the most general form of nature. + +Every species of the animal, as well as the vegetable creation, may be +said to have a fixed or determinate form towards which nature is +continually inclining, like various lines terminating in the centre; or +it may be compared to pendulums vibrating in different directions over +one central point; and as they all cross the centre, though only one +passes through any other point, so it will be found that perfect beauty +is oftener produced by nature than deformity; I do not mean than +deformity in general, but than any one kind of deformity. To instance in +a particular part of a feature: the line that forms the ridge of the +nose is beautiful when it is straight; this then is the central form, +which is oftener found than either concave, convex or any other +irregular form that shall be proposed. As we are then more accustomed to +beauty than deformity, we may conclude that to be the reason why we +approve and admire it, as we approve and admire customs and fashions of +dress for no other reason than that we are used to them; so that, though +habit and custom cannot be said to be the cause of beauty, it is +certainly the cause of our liking it; and I have no doubt but that, if +we were more used to deformity than beauty, deformity would then lose +the idea now annexed to it, and take that of beauty; as, if the whole +world should agree that _yes_ and _no_ should change their meanings, +_yes_ would then deny, and _no_ would affirm. + +Whoever undertakes to proceed further in this argument, and endeavours +to fix a general criterion of beauty respecting different species, or to +show why one species is more beautiful than another, it will be required +from him first to prove that one species is really more beautiful than +another. That we prefer one to the other, and with very good reason, +will be readily granted; but it does not follow from thence that we +think it a more beautiful form; for we have no criterion of form by +which to determine our judgment. He who says a swan is more beautiful +than a dove, means little more than that he has more pleasure in seeing +a swan than a dove, either from the stateliness of its motions, or its +being a more rare bird; and he who gives the preference to the dove, +does it from some association of ideas of innocence that he always +annexes to the dove; but, if he pretends to defend the preference he +gives to one or the other by endeavouring to prove that this more +beautiful form proceeds from a particular gradation of magnitude, +undulation of a curve, or direction of a line, or whatever other conceit +of his imagination he shall fix on as a criterion of form, he will be +continually contradicting himself, and find at last, that the great +Mother of Nature will not be subjected to such narrow rules. Among the +various reasons why we prefer one part of her works to another, the most +general, I believe, is habit and custom; custom makes, in a certain +sense, white black, and black white; it is custom alone determines our +preference of the colour of the Europeans to the Aethiopians; and they, +for the same reason, prefer their own colour to ours. I suppose nobody +will doubt, if one of their painters were to paint the goddess of +beauty, but that he would represent her black, with thick lips, flat +nose, and woolly hair; and, it seems to me, he would act very +unnaturally if he did not; for by what criterion will any one dispute +the propriety of his idea? We, indeed, say, that the form and colour of +the European is preferable to that of the Aethiopian; but I know of no +reason we have for it, but that we are more accustomed to it. It is +absurd to say, that beauty is possessed of attractive powers, which +irresistibly seize the corresponding mind with love and admiration, +since that argument is equally conclusive in favour of the white and the +black philosopher. + +The black and white nations must, in respect of beauty, be considered as +of different kinds, at least a different species of the same kind; from +one of which to the other, as I observed, no inference can be drawn. + +Novelty is said to be one of the causes of beauty: that novelty is a +very sufficient reason why we should admire, is not denied; but, because +it is uncommon, is it, therefore, beautiful? The beauty that is produced +by colour, as when we prefer one bird to another, though of the same +form, on account of its colour, has nothing to do with this argument, +which reaches only to form. I have here considered the word _beauty_ as +being properly applied to form alone. There is a necessity of fixing +this confined sense; for there can be no argument, if the sense of the +word is extended to every thing that is approved. A rose may as well be +said to be beautiful, because it has a fine smell, as a bird because of +its colour. When we apply the word _beauty_ we do not mean always by it +a more beautiful form, but something valuable on account of its rarity, +usefulness, colour, or any other property. A horse is said to be a +beautiful animal; but, had a horse as few good qualities as a tortoise, +I do not imagine that he would be then esteemed beautiful. + +A fitness to the end proposed, is said to be another cause of beauty; +but supposing we were proper judges of what form is the most proper in +an animal to constitute strength or swiftness, we always determine +concerning its beauty, before we exert our understanding to judge of its +fitness. + +From what has been said, it may be inferred, that the works of nature, +if we compare one species with another, are all equally beautiful; and +that preference is given from custom, or some association of ideas: and +that, in creatures of the same species, beauty is the medium or centre +of all various forms. + +To conclude, then, by way of corollary: If it has been proved, that the +painter, by attending to the invariable and general ideas of nature, +produces beauty, he must, by regarding minute particularities and +accidental discriminations, deviate from the universal rule, and pollute +his canvass with deformity[1]. + +[1] By Sir Joshua Reynolds. + + + + +No. 83. SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 17, 1759. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Sir, + +I suppose you have forgotten that many weeks ago I promised to send you +an account of my companions at the Wells. You would not deny me a place +among the most faithful votaries of idleness, if you knew how often I +have recollected my engagement, and contented myself to delay the +performance for some reason which I durst not examine because I knew it +to be false; how often I have sat down to write, and rejoiced at +interruption; and how often I have praised the dignity of resolution, +determined at night to write in the morning, and deferred it in the +morning to the quiet hours of night. + +I have at last begun what I have long wished at an end, and find it more +easy than I expected to continue my narration. + +Our assembly could boast no such constellation of intellects as +Clarendon's band of associates. We had among us no Selden, Falkland or +Waller; but we had men not less important in their own eyes, though less +distinguished by the publick; and many a time have we lamented the +partiality of mankind, and agreed that men of the deepest inquiry +sometimes let their discoveries die away in silence, that the most +comprehensive observers have seldom opportunities of imparting their +remarks, and that modest merit passes in the crowd unknown and unheeded. + +One of the greatest men of the society was Sim Scruple, who lives in a +continual equipoise of doubt, and is a constant enemy to confidence and +dogmatism. Sim's favourite topick of conversation is the narrowness of +the human mind, the fallaciousness of our senses, the prevalence of +early prejudice, and the uncertainty of appearances. Sim has many doubts +about the nature of death, and is sometimes inclined to believe that +sensation may survive motion, and that a dead man may feel though he +cannot stir. He has sometimes hinted that man might, perhaps, have been +naturally a quadruped; and thinks it would be very proper, that at the +Foundling Hospital some children should be inclosed in an apartment in +which the nurses should be obliged to walk half upon four and half upon +two legs, that the younglings, being bred without the prejudice of +example, might have no other guide than nature, and might at last come +forth into the world as genius should direct, erect or prone, on two +legs or on four. + +The next, in dignity of mien and fluency of talk, was Dick Wormwood, +whose sole delight is to find every thing wrong. Dick never enters a +room but he shows that the door and the chimney are ill-placed. He never +walks into the fields but he finds ground ploughed which is fitter for +pasture. He is always an enemy to the present fashion. + +He holds that all the beauty and virtue of women will soon be destroyed +by the use of tea[1]. He triumphs when he talks on the present system of +education, and tells us, with great vehemence, that we are learning +words when we should learn things. He is of opinion that we suck in +errours at the nurse's breast, and thinks it extremely ridiculous that +children should be taught to use the right hand rather than the left. + +Bob Sturdy considers it as a point of honour to say again what he has +once said, and wonders how any man, that has been known to alter his +opinion, can look his neighbours in the face. Bob is the most formidable +disputant of the whole company; for, without troubling himself to search +for reasons, he tires his antagonist with repeated affirmations. When +Bob has been attacked for an hour with all the powers of eloquence and +reason, and his position appears to all but himself utterly untenable, +he always closes the debate with his first declaration, introduced by a +stout preface of contemptuous civility. "All this is very judicious; you +may talk, Sir, as you please; but I will still say what I said at +first." Bob deals much in universals, which he has now obliged us to let +pass without exceptions. He lives on an annuity, and holds that _there +are as many thieves as traders_; he is of loyalty unshaken, and always +maintains, that _he who sees a Jacobite sees a rascal_. + +Phil Gentle is an enemy to the rudeness of contradiction and the +turbulence of debate. Phil has no notions of his own, and, therefore, +willingly catches from the last speaker such as he shall drop. This +flexibility of ignorance is easily accommodated to any tenet; his only +difficulty is, when the disputants grow zealous, how to be of two +contrary opinions at once. If no appeal is made to his judgment, he has +the art of distributing his attention and his smiles in such a manner, +that each thinks him of his own party; but if he is obliged to speak, he +then observes that the question is difficult; that he never received so +much pleasure from a debate before; that neither of the controvertists +could have found his match in any other company; that Mr. Wormwood's +assertion is very well supported, and yet there is great force in what +Mr. Scruple advanced against it. By this indefinite declaration both are +commonly satisfied; for he that has prevailed is in good humour; and he +that has felt his own weakness is very glad to have escaped so well. + +I am, Sir, yours, &c. ROBIN SPRITELY. + +[1] Dr. Johnson was, as he has humorously described himself, "a hardened + and shameless tea-drinker." See his amusing Review of a Journal of + Eight Days' Journey and his Reply to a paper in the Gazetteer, May + 26, 1757. + + + + +No. 84. SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 24, 1759. + +Biography is, of the various kinds of narrative writing, that which is +most eagerly read, and most easily applied to the purposes of life. + +In romances, when the wide field of possibility lies open to invention, +the incidents may easily be made more numerous, the vicissitudes more +sudden, and the events more wonderful; but from the time of life when +fancy begins to be overruled by reason and corrected by experience, the +most artful tale raises little curiosity when it is known to be +false[1]; though it may, perhaps, be sometimes read as a model of a neat +or elegant style, not for the sake of knowing what it contains, but how +it is written; or those that are weary of themselves, may have recourse +to it as a pleasing dream, of which, when they awake, they voluntarily +dismiss the images from their minds. + +The examples and events of history press, indeed, upon the mind with the +weight of truth; but when they are reposited in the memory, they are +oftener employed for show than use, and rather diversify conversation +than regulate life. Few are engaged in such scenes as give them +opportunities of growing wiser by the downfal of statesmen or the defeat +of generals. The stratagems of war, and the intrigues of courts, are +read by far the greater part of mankind with the same indifference as +the adventures of fabled heroes, or the revolutions of a fairy region. +Between falsehood and useless truth there is little difference. As gold +which he cannot spend will make no man rich, so knowledge which he +cannot apply will make no man wise. + +The mischievous consequences of vice and folly, of irregular desires and +predominant passions, are best discovered by those relations which are +levelled with the general surface of life, which tell not how any man +became great, but how he was made happy; not how he lost the favour of +his prince, but how he became discontented with himself. + +Those relations are, therefore, commonly of most value in which the +writer tells his own story. He that recounts the life of another, +commonly dwells most upon conspicuous events, lessens the familiarity of +his tale to increase its dignity, shows his favourite at a distance, +decorated and magnified like the ancient actors in their tragick dress, +and endeavours to hide the man that he may produce a hero. + +But if it be true, which was said by a French prince, "that no man was a +hero to the servants of his chamber," it is equally true, that every man +is yet less a hero to himself. He that is most elevated above the crowd +by the importance of his employments, or the reputation of his genius, +feels himself affected by fame or business but as they influence his +domestick life. The high and low, as they have the same faculties and +the same senses, have no less similitude in their pains and pleasures. +The sensations are the same in all, though produced by very different +occasions. The prince feels the same pain when an invader seizes a +province, as the farmer when a thief drives away his cow. Men thus equal +in themselves will appear equal in honest and impartial biography; and +those whom fortune or nature places at the greatest distance may afford +instruction to each other. + +The writer of his own life has, at least, the first qualification of an +historian, the knowledge of the truth; and though it may be plausibly +objected that his temptations to disguise it are equal to his +opportunities of knowing it, yet I cannot but think that impartiality +may be expected with equal confidence from him that relates the passages +of his own life, as from him that delivers the transactions of another. + +Certainty of knowledge not only excludes mistake, but fortifies +veracity. What we collect by conjecture, and by conjecture only, can one +man judge of another's motives or sentiments, is easily modified by +fancy or by desire; as objects imperfectly discerned take forms from the +hope or fear of the beholder. But that which is fully known cannot be +falsified but with reluctance of understanding, and alarm of conscience: +of understanding, the lover of truth; of conscience, the sentinel of +virtue. + +He that writes the life of another is either his friend or his enemy, +and wishes either to exalt his praise or aggravate his infamy: many +temptations to falsehood will occur in the disguise of passions, too +specious to fear much resistance. Love of virtue will animate +panegyrick, and hatred of wickedness imbitter censure. The zeal of +gratitude, the ardour of patriotism, fondness for an opinion, or +fidelity to a party, may easily overpower the vigilance of a mind +habitually well disposed, and prevail over unassisted and unfriended +veracity. + +But he that speaks of himself has no motive to falsehood or partiality +except self-love, by which all have so often been betrayed, that all are +on the watch against its artifices. He that writes an apology for a +single action, to confute an accusation, to recommend himself to favour, +is, indeed, always to be suspected of favouring his own cause; but he +that sits down calmly and voluntarily to review his life for the +admonition of posterity, or to amuse himself, and leaves this account +unpublished, may be commonly presumed to tell truth, since falsehood +cannot appease his own mind, and fame will not be heard beneath the +tomb. + +[1] It is somewhere recorded of a retired citizen, that he was in the + habit of again and again perusing the incomparable story of Robinson + Crusoe without a suspicion of its authenticity. At length a friend + assured him of its being a work of fiction. What you say, replied + the old man mournfully, may be true; but your information has taken + away the only comfort of my age. + + --Pol, me occidistis, amici, + Non servastis, ait; cui sic extorta voluptas, + Et demtus per vim mentis gratissimus error. HOR. Lib. ii. Ep. ii. 138. + + + + +No. 85. SATURDAY, DECEMBER 1, 1759. + +One of the peculiarities which distinguish the present age is the +multiplication of books. Every day brings new advertisements of literary +undertakings, and we are flattered with repeated promises of growing +wise on easier terms than our progenitors. + +How much either happiness or knowledge is advanced by this multitude of +authors, it is not very easy to decide. + +He that teaches us any thing which we knew not before, is undoubtedly to +be reverenced as a master. + +He that conveys knowledge by more pleasing ways, may very properly be +loved as a benefactor; and he that supplies life with innocent +amusement, will be certainly caressed as a pleasing companion. + +But few of those who fill the world with books have any pretensions to +the hope either of pleasing or instructing. They have often no other +task than to lay two books before them, out of which they compile a +third, without any new materials of their own, and with very little +application of judgment to those which former authors have supplied. + +That all compilations are useless, I do not assert. Particles of science +are often very widely scattered. Writers of extensive comprehension have +incidental remarks upon topicks very remote from the principal subject, +which are often more valuable than formal treatises, and which yet are +not known because they are not promised in the title. He that collects +those under proper heads is very laudably employed, for, though he +exerts no great abilities in the work, he facilitates the progress of +others, and by making that easy of attainment which is already written, +may give some mind, more vigorous or more adventurous than his own, +leisure for new thoughts and original designs. + +But the collections poured lately from the press have been seldom made +at any great expense of time or inquiry, and, therefore, only serve to +distract choice without supplying any real want. + +It is observed that "a corrupt society has many laws;" I know not +whether it is not equally true, that "an ignorant age has many books." +When the treasures of ancient knowledge lie unexamined, and original +authors are neglected and forgotten, compilers and plagiaries are +encouraged, who give us again what we had before, and grow great by +setting before us what our own sloth had hidden from our view. + +Yet are not even these writers to be indiscriminately censured and +rejected. Truth like beauty varies its fashions, and is best recommended +by different dresses to different minds; and he that recalls the +attention of mankind to any part of learning which time has left behind +it, may be truly said to advance the literature of his own age. As the +manners of nations vary, new topicks of persuasion become necessary, and +new combinations of imagery are produced; and he that can accommodate +himself to the reigning taste, may always have readers who, perhaps, +would not have looked upon better performances. + +To exact of every man who writes, that he should say something new, +would be to reduce authors to a small number; to oblige the most fertile +genius to say only what is new would be to contract his volumes to a few +pages. Yet, surely, there ought to be some bounds to repetition; +libraries ought no more to be heaped for ever with the same thoughts +differently expressed, than with the same books differently decorated. + +The good or evil which these secondary writers produce is seldom of any +long duration. As they owe their existence to change of fashion, they +commonly disappear when a new fashion becomes prevalent. The authors +that in any nation last from age to age are very few, because there are +very few that have any other claim to notice than that they catch hold +on present curiosity, and gratify some accidental desire, or produce +some temporary conveniency. + +But however the writers of the day may despair of future fame, they +ought at least to forbear any present mischief. Though they cannot +arrive at eminent heights of excellence, they might keep themselves +harmless. They might take care to inform themselves before they attempt +to inform others, and exert the little influence which they have for +honest purposes. + +But such is the present state of our literature, that the ancient sage, +who thought _a great book a great evil_, would now think the multitude +of books a multitude of evils. He would consider a bulky writer who +engrossed a year, and a swarm of pamphleteers who stole each an hour, as +equal wasters of human life, and would make no other difference between +them, than between a beast of prey and a flight of locusts. + + + + +No. 86. SATURDAY, DECEMBER 8, 1759. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Sir, + +I am a young lady newly married to a young gentleman. Our fortune is +large, our minds are vacant, our dispositions gay, our acquaintances +numerous, and our relations splendid. We considered that marriage, like +life, has its youth; that the first year is the year of gaiety and +revel, and resolved to see the shows and feel the joys of London, before +the increase of our family should confine us to domestick cares and +domestick pleasures. + +Little time was spent in preparation; the coach was harnessed, and a few +days brought us to London, and we alighted at a lodging provided for us +by Miss Biddy Trifle, a maiden niece of my husband's father, where we +found apartments on a second floor, which my cousin told us would serve +us till we could please ourselves with a more commodious and elegant +habitation, and which she had taken at a very high price, because it was +not worth the while to make a hard bargain for so short a time. + +Here I intended to lie concealed till my new clothes were made, and my +new lodging hired; but Miss Trifle had so industriously given notice of +our arrival to all her acquaintance, that I had the mortification next +day of seeing the door thronged with painted coaches and chairs with +coronets, and was obliged to receive all my husband's relations on a +second floor. + +Inconveniencies are often balanced by some advantage: the elevation of +my apartments furnished a subject for conversation, which, without some +such help, we should have been in danger of wanting. Lady Stately told +us how many years had passed since she climbed so many steps. Miss Airy +ran to the window, and thought it charming to see the walkers so little +in the street; and Miss Gentle went to try the same experiment, and +screamed to find herself so far above the ground. + +They all knew that we intended to remove, and, therefore, all gave me +advice about a proper choice. One street was recommended for the purity +of its air, another for its freedom from noise, another for its nearness +to the Park, another because there was but a step from it to all places +of diversion, and another because its inhabitants enjoyed at once the +town and country. + +I had civility enough to hear every recommendation with a look of +curiosity, while it was made, and of acquiescence, when it was +concluded, but in my heart felt no other desire than to be free from the +disgrace of a second floor, and cared little where I should fix, if the +apartments were spacious and splendid. + +Next day a chariot was hired, and Miss Trifle was despatched to find a +lodging. She returned in the afternoon, with an account of a charming +place, to which my husband went in the morning to make the contract. +Being young and unexperienced, he took with him his friend Ned Quick, a +gentleman of great skill in rooms and furniture, who sees, at a single +glance, whatever there is to be commended or censured. Mr. Quick, at the +first view of the house, declared that it could not be inhabited, for +the sun in the afternoon shone with full glare on the windows of the +dining-room. + +Miss Trifle went out again, and soon discovered another lodging, which +Mr. Quick went to survey, and found, that, whenever the wind should blow +from the, east, all the smoke of the city would be driven upon it. + +A magnificent set of rooms was then found in one of the streets near +Westminster-Bridge, which Miss Trifle preferred to any which she had yet +seen; but Mr. Quick, having mused upon it for a time, concluded that it +would be too much exposed in the morning to the fogs that rise from the +river. + +Thus Mr. Quick proceeded to give us every day new testimonies of his +taste and circumspection; sometimes the street was too narrow for a +double range of coaches; sometimes it was an obscure place, not +inhabited by persons of quality. Some places were dirty, and some +crowded; in some houses the furniture was ill-suited, and in others the +stairs were too narrow. He had such fertility of objections that Miss +Trifle was at last tired, and desisted from all attempts for our +accommodation. + +In the mean time I have still continued to see my company on a second +floor, and am asked twenty times a day when I am to leave those odious +lodgings, in which I live tumultuously without pleasure, and expensively +without honour. My husband thinks so highly of Mr. Quick, that he cannot +be persuaded to remove without his approbation; and Mr. Quick thinks his +reputation raised by the multiplication of difficulties. + +In this distress to whom can I have recourse? I find my temper vitiated +by daily disappointment, by the sight of pleasures which I cannot +partake, and the possession of riches which I cannot enjoy. Dear Mr. +Idler, inform my husband that he is trifling away, in superfluous +vexation, the few months which custom has appropriated to delight; that +matrimonial quarrels are not easily reconciled between those that have +no children; that wherever we settle he must always find some +inconvenience; but nothing is so much to be avoided as a perpetual state +of inquiry and suspense. + +I am, Sir, + +Your humble servant, + +PEGGY HEARTLESS. + + + + +No. 87. SATURDAY, DECEMBER 15, 1759. + +Of what we know not, we can only judge by what we know. Every novelty +appears more wonderful as it is more remote from any thing with which +experience or testimony has hitherto acquainted us; and, if it passes +further beyond the notions that we have been accustomed to form, it +becomes at last incredible. + +We seldom consider that human knowledge is very narrow, that national +manners are formed by chance, that uncommon conjunctures of causes +produce rare effects, or that what is impossible at one time or place +may yet happen in another. It is always easier to deny than to inquire. +To refuse credit confers for a moment an appearance of superiority, +which every little mind is tempted to assume when it may be gained so +cheaply as by withdrawing attention from evidence, and declining the +fatigue of comparing probabilities. The most pertinacious and vehement +demonstrator may be wearied in time by continual negation; and +incredulity, which an old poet, in his address to Raleigh, calls _the +wit of fools_, obtunds the argument which it cannot answer, as woolsacks +deaden arrows though they cannot repel them. + +Many relations of travellers have been slighted as fabulous, till more +frequent voyages have confirmed their veracity; and it may reasonably be +imagined, that many ancient historians are unjustly suspected of +falsehood, because our own times afford nothing that resembles what they +tell[1]. + +Had only the writers of antiquity informed us, that there was once a +nation in which the wife lay down upon the burning pile only to mix her +ashes with those of her husband, we should have thought it a tale to be +told with that of Endymion's commerce with the moon. Had only a single +traveller related, that many nations of the earth were black, we should +have thought the accounts of the Negroes and of the Phoenix equally +credible. But of black men the numbers are too great who are now +repining under English cruelty; and the custom of voluntary cremation is +not yet lost among the ladies of India. + +Few narratives will either to men or women appear more incredible than +the histories of the Amazons; of female nations of whose constitution it +was the essential and fundamental law to exclude men from all +participation, either of publick affairs or domestick business; where +female armies marched under female captains, female farmers gathered the +harvest, female partners danced together, and female wits diverted one +another. + +Yet several ages of antiquity have transmitted accounts of the Amazons +of Caucasus; and of the Amazons of America, who have given their name to +the greatest river in the world, Condamine lately found such memorials, +as can be expected among erratick and unlettered nations, where events +are recorded only by tradition, and new settling in the country from +time to time, confuse and efface all traces of former times. + +To die with husbands, or to live without them, are the two extremes +which the prudence and moderation of European ladies have, in all ages, +equally declined; they have never been allured to death by the kindness +or civility of the politest nations, nor has the roughness and brutality +of more savage countries ever provoked them to doom their male +associates to irrevocable banishment. The Bohemian matrons are said to +have made one short struggle for superiority; but, instead of banishing +the men, they contented themselves with condemning them to servile +offices; and their constitution, thus left imperfect, was quickly +overthrown. + +There is, I think, no class of English women from whom we are in any +danger of Amazonian usurpation. The old maids seem nearest to +independence, and most likely to be animated by revenge against +masculine authority; they often speak of men with acrimonious vehemence, +but it is seldom found that they have any settled hatred against them, +and it is yet more rarely observed that they have any kindness for each +other. They will not easily combine in any plot; and if they should ever +agree to retire and fortify themselves in castles or in mountains, the +sentinel will betray the passes in spite, and the garrison will +capitulate upon easy terms, if the besiegers have handsome swordknots, +and are well supplied with fringe and lace. + +The gamesters, if they were united, would make a formidable body; and, +since they consider men only as beings that are to lose their money, +they might live together without any wish for the officiousness of +gallantry or the delights of diversified conversation. But as nothing +would hold them together but the hope of plundering one another, their +government would fail from the defect of its principles; the men would +need only to neglect them, and they would perish in a few weeks by a +civil war. + +I do not mean to censure the ladies of England as defective in knowledge +or in spirit, when I suppose them unlikely to revive the military +honours of their sex. The character of the ancient Amazons was rather +terrible than lovely; the hand could not be very delicate that was only +employed in drawing the bow and brandishing the battle-axe; their power +was maintained by cruelty, their courage was deformed by ferocity, and +their example only shows that men and women live best together. + +[1] _Le vrai n'est pas toujours le vraisemblable._ The researches of + Gibbon, Rennel and Mitford, the travels of Bruce and Belzoni have + fully proved the truth of this maxim in the case of Herodotus. + + + + +No. 88. SATURDAY, DECEMBER 22, 1759. + + _Hodie quid egisti?_ + +When the philosophers of the last age were first congregated into the +Royal Society, great expectations were raised of the sudden progress of +useful arts; the time was supposed to be near, when engines should turn +by a perpetual motion, and health be secured by the universal medicine; +when learning should be facilitated by a real character, and commerce +extended by ships which could reach their ports in defiance of the +tempest. + +But improvement is naturally slow. The society met and parted without +any visible diminution of the miseries of life. The gout and stone were +still painful, the ground that was not ploughed brought no harvest, and +neither oranges nor grapes would grow upon the hawthorn. At last, those +who were disappointed began to be angry; those likewise who hated +innovation were glad to gain an opportunity of ridiculing men who had +depreciated, perhaps with too much arrogance, the knowledge of +antiquity. And it appears, from some of their earliest apologies, that +the philosophers felt with great sensibility the unwelcome importunities +of those who were daily asking, "What have ye done?" + +The truth is, that little had been done compared with what fame had been +suffered to promise; and the question could only be answered by general +apologies and by new hopes, which, when they were frustrated, gave a new +occasion to the same vexatious inquiry. + +This fatal question has disturbed the quiet of many other minds. He that +in the latter part of his life too strictly inquires what he has done, +can very seldom receive from his own heart such an account as will give +him satisfaction. + +We do not indeed so often disappoint others as ourselves. We not only +think more highly than others of our own abilities, but allow ourselves +to form hopes which we never communicate, and please our thoughts with +employments which none ever will allot us, and with elevations to which +we are never expected to rise; and when our days and years have passed +away in common business or common amusements, and we find at last that +we have suffered our purposes to sleep till the time of action is past, +we are reproached only by our own reflections; neither our friends nor +our enemies wonder that we live and die like the rest of mankind; that +we live without notice, and die without memorial; they know not what +task we had proposed, and, therefore, cannot discern whether it is +finished. + +He that compares what he has done with what he has left undone, will +feel the effect which must always follow the comparison of imagination +with reality; he will look with contempt on his own unimportance, and +wonder to what purpose he came into the world; he will repine that he +shall leave behind him no evidence of his having been, that he has added +nothing to the system of life, but has glided from youth to age among +the crowd, without any effort for distinction. + +Man is seldom willing to let fall the opinion of his own dignity, or to +believe that he does little only because every individual is a very +little being. He is better content to want diligence than power, and +sooner confesses the depravity of his will than the imbecility of his +nature. + +From this mistaken notion of human greatness it proceeds, that many who +pretend to have made great advances in wisdom so loudly declare that +they despise themselves. If I had ever found any of the self-contemners +much irritated or pained by the consciousness of their meanness, I +should have given them consolation by observing, that a little more than +nothing is as much as can be expected from a being, who, with respect to +the multitudes about him, is himself little more than nothing. Every man +is obliged by the Supreme Master of the universe to improve all the +opportunities of good which are afforded him, and to keep in continual +activity such abilities as are bestowed upon him. But he has no reason +to repine, though his abilities are small and his opportunities few. He +that has improved the virtue, or advanced the happiness of one +fellow-creature, he that has ascertained a single moral proposition, or +added one useful experiment to natural knowledge, may be contented with +his own performance, and, with respect to mortals like himself, may +demand, like Augustus, to be dismissed at his departure with applause. + + + + +No. 89. SATURDAY, DECEMBER 29, 1759. + + [Greek: Anechou kai apechou.] EPICT. + +How evil came into the world; for what reason it is that life is +overspread with such boundless varieties of misery; why the only +thinking being of this globe is doomed to think merely to be wretched, +and to pass his time from youth to age in fearing or in suffering +calamities, is a question which philosophers have long asked, and which +philosophy could never answer. + +Religion informs us that misery and sin were produced together. The +depravation of human will was followed by a disorder of the harmony of +nature; and by that providence which often places antidotes in the +neighbourhood of poisons, vice was checked by misery, lest it should +swell to universal and unlimited dominion. + +A state of innocence and happiness is so remote from all that we have +ever seen, that though we can easily conceive it possible, and may, +therefore, hope to attain it, yet our speculations upon it must be +general and confused. We can discover that where there is universal +innocence, there will probably be universal happiness; for, why should +afflictions be permitted to infest beings who are not in danger of +corruption from blessings, and where there is no use of terrour nor +cause of punishment? But in a world like ours, where our senses assault +us, and our hearts betray us, we should pass on from crime to crime, +heedless and remorseless, if misery did not stand in our way, and our +own pains admonish us of our folly. + +Almost all the moral good, which is left among us, is the apparent +effect of physical evil. + +Goodness is divided by divines into soberness, righteousness and +godliness. Let it be examined how each of these duties would be +practised, if there were no physical evil to enforce it. + +Sobriety, or temperance, is nothing but the forbearance of pleasure; and +if pleasure was not followed by pain, who would forbear it? We see every +hour those in whom the desire of present indulgence overpowers all sense +of past and all foresight of future misery. In a remission of the gout, +the drunkard returns to his wine, and the glutton to his feast; and if +neither disease nor poverty were felt or dreaded, every one would sink +down in idle sensuality, without any care of others, or of himself. To +eat and drink, and lie down to sleep, would be the whole business of +mankind. + +Righteousness, or the system of social duty, may be subdivided into +justice and charity. Of justice one of the Heathen sages has shown, with +great acuteness, that it was impressed upon mankind only by the +inconveniencies which injustice had produced. "In the first ages," says +he, "men acted without any rule but the impulse of desire; they +practised injustice upon others, and suffered it from others in their +turn; but in time it was discovered, that the pain of suffering wrong +was greater than the pleasure of doing it; and mankind, by a general +compact, submitted to the restraint of laws, and resigned the pleasure +to escape the pain." + +Of charity it is superfluous to observe, that it could have no place if +there were no want; for of a virtue which could not be practised, the +omission could not be culpable. Evil is not only the occasional, but the +efficient cause of charity; we are incited to the relief of misery by +the consciousness that we have the same nature with the sufferer, that +we are in danger of the same distresses, and may sometimes implore the +same assistance. + +Godliness, or piety, is elevation of the mind towards the Supreme Being, +and extension of the thoughts to another life. The other life is future, +and the Supreme Being is invisible. None would have recourse to an +invisible power, but that all other subjects have eluded their hopes. +None would fix their attention upon the future, but that they are +discontented with the present. If the senses were feasted with perpetual +pleasure, they would always keep the mind in subjection. Reason has no +authority over us, but by its power to warn us against evil. + +In childhood, while our minds are yet unoccupied, religion is impressed +upon them, and the first years of almost all who have been well educated +are passed in a regular discharge of the duties of piety. But as we +advance forward into the crowds of life, innumerable delights solicit +our inclinations, and innumerable cares distract our attention; the time +of youth is passed in noisy frolicks; manhood is led on from hope to +hope, and from project to project; the dissoluteness of pleasure, the +inebriation of success, the ardour of expectation, and the vehemence of +competition, chain down the mind alike to the present scene, nor is it +remembered how soon this mist of trifles must be scattered, and the +bubbles that float upon the rivulet of life be lost for ever in the +gulph of eternity. To this consideration scarcely any man is awakened +but by some pressing and resistless evil. The death of those from whom +he derived his pleasures, or to whom he destined his possessions, some +disease which shows him the vanity of all external acquisitions, or the +gloom of age, which intercepts his prospects of long enjoyment, forces +him to fix his hopes upon another state; and when he has contended with +the tempests of life till his strength fails him, he flies at last to +the shelter of religion. + +That misery does not make all virtuous, experience too certainly informs +us; but it is no less certain that of what virtue there is, misery +produces far the greater part. Physical evil may be, therefore, endured +with patience, since it is the cause of moral good; and patience itself +is one virtue by which we are prepared for that state in which evil +shall be no more[1]. + +[1] For a fuller exposition of Johnson's sentiments on this dark and + deep subject, see his Review of Soame Jenyns' Nature and Origin of + Evil. + + + + +No. 90. SATURDAY, JANUARY 5, 1760. + +It is a complaint which has been made from time to time, and which seems +to have lately become more frequent, that English oratory, however +forcible in argument, or elegant in expression, is deficient and +inefficacious, because our speakers want the grace and energy of action. + +Among the numerous projectors who are desirous to refine our manners, +and improve our faculties, some are willing to supply the deficiency of +our speakers[1]. We have had more than one exhortation to study the +neglected art of moving the passions, and have been encouraged to +believe that our tongues, however feeble in themselves, may, by the help +of our hands and legs, obtain an uncontroulable dominion over the most +stubborn audience, animate the insensible, engage the careless, force +tears from the obdurate, and money from the avaricious. + +If by sleight of hand, or nimbleness of foot, all these wonders can be +performed, he that shall neglect to attain the free use of his limbs may +be justly censured as criminally lazy. But I am afraid that no specimen +of such effects will easily be shown. If I could once find a speaker in +'Change-Alley raising the price of stocks by the power of persuasive +gestures, I should very zealously recommend the study of his art; but +having never seen any action by which language was much assisted, I have +been hitherto inclined to doubt whether my countrymen are not blamed too +hastily for their calm and motionless utterance. + +Foreigners of many nations accompany their speech with action; but why +should their example have more influence upon us than ours upon them? +Customs are not to be changed but for better. Let those who desire to +reform us show the benefits of the change proposed. When the Frenchman +waves his hands and writhes his body in recounting the revolutions of a +game at cards, or the Neapolitan, who tells the hour of the day, shows +upon his fingers the number which he mentions; I do not perceive that +their manual exercise is of much use, or that they leave any image more +deeply impressed by their bustle and vehemence of communication. + +Upon the English stage there is no want of action; but the difficulty of +making it at once various and proper, and its perpetual tendency to +become ridiculous, notwithstanding all the advantages which art and +show, and custom and prejudice can give it, may prove how little it can +be admitted into any other place, where it can have no recommendation +but from truth and nature. + +The use of English oratory is only at the bar, in the parliament, and in +the church. Neither the judges of our laws nor the representatives of +our people would be much affected by laboured gesticulation, or believe +any man the more because he rolled his eyes, or puffed his cheeks, or +spread abroad his arms, or stamped the ground, or thumped his breast, or +turned his eyes sometimes to the ceiling and sometimes to the floor. +Upon men intent only upon truth, the arm of an orator has little power; +a credible testimony, or a cogent argument will overcome all the art of +modulation, and all the violence of contortion. + +It is well known that, in the city which may be called the parent of +oratory, all the arts of mechanical persuasion were banished from the +court of supreme judicature. The judges of the Areopagus considered +action and vociferation as a foolish appeal to the external senses, and +unworthy to be practised before those who had no desire of idle +amusement, and whose only pleasure was to discover right. + +Whether action may not be yet of use in churches, where the preacher +addresses a mingled audience, may deserve inquiry. It is certain that +the senses are more powerful as the reason is weaker; and that he whose +ears convey little to his mind, may sometimes listen with his eyes till +truth may gradually take possession of his heart. If there be any use of +gesticulation, it must be applied to the ignorant and rude, who will be +more affected by vehemence than delighted by propriety. In the pulpit +little action can be proper, for action can illustrate nothing but that +to which it may be referred by nature or by custom. He that imitates by +his hand a motion which he describes, explains it by natural similitude; +he that lays his hand on his breast, when he expresses pity, enforces +his words by a customary allusion. But theology has few topicks to which +action can be appropriated; that action which is vague and indeterminate +will at last settle into habit, and habitual peculiarities are quickly +ridiculous. + +It is, perhaps, the character of the English to despise trifles; and +that art may surely be accounted a trifle which is at once useless and +ostentatious, which can seldom be practised with propriety, and which, +as the mind is more cultivated, is less powerful. Yet as all innocent +means are to be used for the propagation of truth, I would not deter +those who are employed in preaching to common congregations from any +practice which they may find persuasive: for, compared with the +conversion of sinners, propriety and elegance are less than nothing. + +[1] Johnson might here be glancing at the oratorical lectures of the + modern _Rhetor_ Sheridan, whose plans he delighted incessantly to + ridicule. See Boswell. Many acute remarks occur in Hume's Essay on + Eloquence. + + + + +No. 91. SATURDAY, JANUARY 12, 1760. + +It is common to overlook what is near, by keeping the eye fixed upon +something remote. In the same manner present opportunities are +neglected, and attainable good is slighted, by minds busied in extensive +ranges, and intent upon future advantages. Life, however short, is made +still shorter by waste of time, and its progress towards happiness, +though naturally slow, is yet retarded by unnecessary labour. + +The difficulty of obtaining knowledge is universally confessed. To fix +deeply in the mind the principles of science, to settle their +limitations, and deduce the long succession of their consequences; to +comprehend the whole compass of complicated systems, with all the +arguments, objections and solutions, and to reposite in the intellectual +treasury the numberless facts, experiments, apophthegms and positions, +which must stand single in the memory, and of which none has any +perceptible connexion with the rest, is a task which, though undertaken +with ardour and pursued with diligence, must at last be left unfinished +by the frailty of our nature. + +To make the way to learning either less short or less smooth, is +certainly absurd; yet this is the apparent effect of the prejudice which +seems to prevail among us in favour of foreign authors, and of the +contempt of our native literature, which this excursive curiosity must +necessarily produce. Every man is more speedily instructed by his own +language, than by any other; before we search the rest of the world for +teachers, let us try whether we may not spare our trouble by finding +them at home. + +The riches of the English language are much greater than they are +commonly supposed. Many useful and valuable books lie buried in shops +and libraries, unknown and unexamined, unless some lucky compiler opens +them by chance, and finds an easy spoil of wit and learning. I am far +from intending to insinuate, that other languages are not necessary to +him who aspires to eminence, and whose whole life is devoted to study; +but to him who reads only for amusement, or whose purpose is not to deck +himself with the honours of literature, but to be qualified for +domestick usefulness, and sit down content with subordinate reputation, +we have authors sufficient to fill up all the vacancies of his time, and +gratify most of his wishes for information. + +Of our poets I need say little, because they are, perhaps, the only +authors to whom their country has done justice. We consider the whole +succession from Spenser to Pope as superior to any names which the +continent can boast; and, therefore, the poets of other nations, however +familiarly they may be sometimes mentioned, are very little read, except +by those who design to borrow their beauties. + +There is, I think, not one of the liberal arts which may not be +competently learned in the English language. He that searches after +mathematical knowledge may busy himself among his own countrymen, and +will find one or other able to instruct him in every part of those +abstruse sciences. He that is delighted with experiments, and wishes to +know the nature of bodies from certain and visible effects, is happily +placed where the mechanical philosophy was first established by a +publick institution, and from which it was spread to all other +countries. + +The more airy and elegant studies of philology and criticism have little +need of any foreign help. Though our language, not being very +analogical, gives few opportunities for grammatical researches, yet we +have not wanted authors who have considered the principles of speech; +and with critical writings we abound sufficiently to enable pedantry to +impose rules which can seldom be observed, and vanity to talk of books +which are seldom read. + +But our own language has, from the Reformation to the present time, been +chiefly dignified and adorned by the works of our divines, who, +considered as commentators, controvertists, or preachers, have +undoubtedly left all other nations far behind them. No vulgar language +can boast such treasures of theological knowledge, or such multitudes of +authors at once learned, elegant and pious. Other countries and other +communions have authors, perhaps, equal in abilities and diligence to +ours; but if we unite number with excellence, there is certainly no +nation which must not allow us to be superior. Of morality little is +necessary to be said, because it is comprehended in practical divinity, +and is, perhaps, better taught in English sermons than in any other +books, ancient and modern. Nor shall I dwell on our excellence in +metaphysical speculations, because he that reads the works of our +divines will easily discover how far human subtilty has been able to +penetrate. + +Political knowledge is forced upon us by the form of our constitution; +and all the mysteries of government are discovered in the attack or +defence of every minister. The original law of society, the rights of +subjects and the prerogatives of kings, have been considered with the +utmost nicety, sometimes profoundly investigated, and sometimes +familiarly explained. + +Thus copiously instructive is the English language; and thus needless is +all recourse to foreign writers. Let us not, therefore, make our +neighbours proud by soliciting help which we do not want, nor discourage +our own industry by difficulties which we need not suffer. + + + + +No. 92. SATURDAY, JANUARY 19, 1760. + +Whatever is useful or honourable will be desired by many who never can +obtain it; and that which cannot be obtained when it is desired, +artifice or folly will be diligent to counterfeit. Those to whom fortune +has denied gold and diamonds decorate themselves with stones and metals, +which have something of the show, but little of the value; and every +moral excellence or intellectual faculty has some vice or folly which +imitates its appearance. + +Every man wishes to be wise, and they who cannot be wise are almost +always cunning. The less is the real discernment of those whom business +or conversation brings together, the more illusions are practised; nor +is caution ever so necessary as with associates or opponents of feeble +minds. + +Cunning differs from wisdom as twilight from open day. He that walks in +the sunshine goes boldly forward by the nearest way; he sees that where +the path is straight and even, he may proceed in security, and where it +is rough and crooked he easily complies with the turns, and avoids the +obstructions. But the traveller in the dusk fears more as he sees less; +he knows there may be danger, and, therefore, suspects that he is never +safe, tries every step before he fixes his foot, and shrinks at every +noise lest violence should approach him. Wisdom comprehends at once the +end and the means, estimates easiness or difficulty, and is cautious or +confident in due proportion. Cunning discovers little at a time, and has +no other means of certainty than multiplication of stratagems and +superfluity of suspicion. The man of cunning always considers that he +can never be too safe, and, therefore, always keeps himself enveloped in +a mist, impenetrable, as he hopes, to the eye of rivalry or curiosity. + +Upon this principle Tom Double has formed a habit of eluding the most +harmless question. What he has no inclination to answer, he pretends +sometimes not to hear, and endeavours to divert the inquirer's attention +by some other subject; but if he be pressed hard by repeated +interrogation, he always evades a direct reply. Ask him whom he likes +best on the stage; he is ready to tell that there are several excellent +performers. Inquire when he was last at the coffee-house; he replies, +that the weather has been bad lately. Desire him to tell the age of any +of his acquaintance; he immediately mentions another who is older or +younger. + +Will Puzzle values himself upon a long reach. He foresees every thing +before it will happen, though he never relates his prognostications till +the event is past. Nothing has come to pass for these twenty years of +which Mr. Puzzle had not given broad hints, and told at least that it +was not proper to tell. Of those predictions, which every conclusion +will equally verify, he always claims the credit, and wonders that his +friends did not understand them. He supposes very truly that much may be +known which he knows not, and, therefore, pretends to know much of which +he and all mankind are equally ignorant. I desired his opinion yesterday +of the German war, and was told, that if the Prussians were well +supported, something great may be expected; but that they have very +powerful enemies to encounter; that the Austrian general has long +experience, and the Russians are hardy and resolute; but that no human +power is invincible. I then drew the conversation to our own affairs, +and invited him to balance the probabilities of war and peace. He told +me that war requires courage, and negociation judgment, and that the +time will come when it will be seen, whether our skill in treaty is +equal to our bravery in battle. To this general prattle he will appeal +hereafter, and will demand to have his foresight applauded, whoever +shall at last be conquered or victorious. + +With Ned Smuggle all is a secret. He believes himself watched by +observation and malignity on every side, and rejoices in the dexterity +by which he has escaped snares that never were laid. Ned holds that a +man is never deceived if he never trusts, and, therefore, will not tell +the name of his tailor or his hatter. He rides out every morning for the +air, and pleases himself with thinking that nobody knows where he has +been. When he dines with a friend, he never goes to his house the +nearest way, but walks up a by-street to perplex the scent. When he has +a coach called, he never tells him at the door the true place to which +he is going, but stops him in the way that he may give him directions +where nobody can hear him. The price of what he buys or sells is always +concealed. He often takes lodgings in the country by a wrong name, and +thinks that the world is wondering where he can be hid. All these +transactions he registers in a book, which, he says, will some time or +other amaze posterity. + +It is remarked by Bacon, that many men try to procure reputation only by +objections, of which, if they are once admitted, the nullity never +appears, because the design is laid aside. "This false feint of wisdom," +says he, "is the ruin of business." The whole power of cunning is +privative; to say nothing, and to do nothing, is the utmost of its +reach. Yet men thus narrow by nature, and mean by art, are sometimes +able to rise by the miscarriages of bravery and the openness of +integrity; and by watching failures and snatching opportunities, obtain +advantages which belong properly to higher characters. + + + + +No. 93. SATURDAY, JANUARY 26, 1760. + +Sam Softly was bred a sugar-baker; but succeeding to a considerable +estate on the death of his elder brother, he retired early from +business, married a fortune, and settled in a country-house near +Kentish-town, Sam, who formerly was a sportsman, and in his +apprenticeship used to frequent Barnet races, keeps a high chaise, with +a brace of seasoned geldings. During the summer months, the principal +passion and employment of Sam's life is to visit, in this vehicle, the +most eminent seats of the nobility and gentry in different parts of the +kingdom, with his wife and some select friends. By these periodical +excursions Sam gratifies many important purposes. He assists the several +pregnancies of his wife; he shows his chaise to the best advantage; he +indulges his insatiable curiosity for finery, which, since he has turned +gentleman, has grown upon him to an extraordinary degree; he discovers +taste and spirit, and, what is above all, he finds frequent +opportunities of displaying to the party, at every house he sees, his +knowledge of family connexion. At first, Sam was contented with driving +a friend between London and his villa. Here he prided himself in +pointing out the boxes of the citizens on each side of the road, with an +accurate detail of their respective failures or successes in trade; and +harangued on the several equipages that were accidentally passing. Here, +too, the seats, interspersed on the surrounding hills, afforded ample +matter for Sam's curious discoveries. For one, he told his companion, a +rich Jew had offered money; and that a retired widow was courted at +another, by an eminent dry-salter. At the same time he discussed the +utility, and enumerated the expenses, of the Islington turnpike. But +Sam's ambition is at present raised to nobler undertakings. + +When the happy hour of the annual expedition arrives, the seat of the +chaise is furnished with Ogilvy's Book of Roads, and a choice quantity +of cold tongues. The most alarming disaster which can happen to our +hero, who thinks he _throws a whip_ admirably well, is to be overtaken +in a road which affords no _quarter_ for wheels. Indeed, few men possess +more skill or discernment for concerting and conducting a _party of +pleasure_. When a seat is to be surveyed, he has a peculiar talent in +selecting some shady bench in the park, where the company may most +commodiously refresh themselves with cold tongue, chicken and French +rolls; and is very sagacious in discovering what cool temple in the +garden will be best adapted for drinking tea, brought for this purpose, +in the afternoon, and from which the chaise may be resumed with the +greatest convenience. In viewing the house itself, he is principally +attracted by the chairs and beds, concerning the cost of which his +minute inquiries generally gain the clearest information. An agate table +easily diverts his eyes from the most capital strokes of Rubens, and a +Turkey carpet has more charms than a Titian. Sam, however, dwells with +some attention on the family portraits, particularly the most modern +ones; and as this is a topick on which the housekeeper usually harangues +in a more copious manner, he takes this opportunity of improving his +knowledge of intermarriages. Yet, notwithstanding this appearance of +satisfaction, Sam has some objection to all he sees. One house has too +much gilding; at another, the chimney-pieces are all monuments; at a +third, he conjectures that the beautiful canal must certainly be dried +up in a hot summer. He despises the statues at Wilton, because he thinks +he can see much better carving in Westminster Abbey. But there is one +general objection which he is sure to make at almost every house, +particularly at those which are most distinguished. He allows that all +the apartments are extremely fine, but adds, with a sneer, that they are +too fine to be inhabited. + +Misapplied genius most commonly proves ridiculous. Had Sam, as Nature +intended, contentedly continued in the calmer and less conspicuous +pursuits of sugar-baking, he might have been a respectable and useful +character. At present he dissipates his life in a specious idleness, +which neither improves himself nor his friends. Those talents, which +might have benefited society, he exposes to contempt by false +pretensions. He affects pleasures which he cannot enjoy, and is +acquainted only with those subjects on which he has no right to talk, +and which it is no merit to understand[1]. + +[1] This humorous paper was written by Mr. Thomas Warton, who is said to + have sketched from a character in real life, distantly related to + himself.--Drake's Essays, Vol. II. + + + + +No. 94. SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 2, 1760. + +It is common to find young men ardent and diligent in the pursuit of +knowledge; but the progress of life very often produces laxity and +indifference; and not only those who are at liberty to choose their +business and amusements, but those likewise whose professions engage +them in literary inquiries, pass the latter part of their time without +improvement, and spend the day rather in any other entertainment than +that which they might find among their books. + +This abatement of the vigour of curiosity is sometimes imputed to the +insufficiency of learning. Men are supposed to remit their labours, +because they find their labours to have been vain; and to search no +longer after truth and wisdom, because they at last despair of finding +them. + +But this reason is, for the most part, very falsely assigned. Of +learning, as of virtue, it may be affirmed, that it is at once honoured +and neglected. Whoever forsakes it will for ever look after it with +longing, lament the loss which he does not endeavour to repair, and +desire the good which he wants resolution to seize and keep. The Idler +never applauds his own idleness, nor does any man repent of the +diligence of his youth. + +So many hindrances may obstruct the acquisition of knowledge, that there +is little reason for wondering that it is in a few hands. To the greater +part of mankind the duties of life are inconsistent with much study; and +the hours which they would spend upon letters must be stolen from their +occupations and their families. Many suffer themselves to be lured by +more sprightly and luxurious pleasures from the shades of contemplation, +where they find seldom more than a calm delight, such as, though greater +than all others, its certainty and its duration being reckoned with its +power of gratification, is yet easily quitted for some extemporary joy, +which the present moment offers, and another, perhaps, will put out of +reach. + +It is the great excellence of learning, that it borrows very little from +time or place; it is not confined to season or to climate, to cities or +to the country, but may be cultivated and enjoyed where no other +pleasure can be obtained. But this quality, which constitutes much of +its value, is one occasion of neglect; what may be done at all times +with equal propriety, is deferred from day to day, till the mind is +gradually reconciled to the omission, and the attention is turned to +other objects. Thus habitual idleness gains too much power to be +conquered, and the soul shrinks from the idea of intellectual labour and +intenseness of meditation. + +That those who profess to advance learning sometimes obstruct it, cannot +be denied; the continual multiplication of books not only distracts +choice, but disappoints inquiry. To him that has moderately stored his +mind with images, few writers afford any novelty, or what little they +have to add to the common stock of learning, is so buried in the mass of +general notions, that, like silver mingled with the ore of lead, it is +too little to pay for the labour of separation; and he that has often +been deceived by the promise of a title, at last grows weary of +examining, and is tempted to consider all as equally fallacious. + +There are indeed some repetitions always lawful, because they never +deceive. He that writes the history of past times, undertakes only to +decorate known facts by new beauties of method or of style, or at most +to illustrate them by his own reflections. The author of a system, +whether moral or physical, is obliged to nothing beyond care of +selection and regularity of disposition. But there are others who claim +the name of authors merely to disgrace it, and fill the world with +volumes only to bury letters in their own rubbish. The traveller, who +tells, in a pompous folio, that he saw the Pantheon at Rome, and the +Medicean Venus at Florence; the natural historian, who, describing the +productions of a narrow island, recounts all that it has in common with +every other part of the world; the collector of antiquities, that +accounts every thing a curiosity which the ruins of Herculaneum happen +to emit, though an instrument already shown in a thousand repositories, +or a cup common to the ancients, the moderns and all mankind; may be +justly censured as the persecutors of students, and the thieves of that +time which never can be restored. + + + + +No. 95. SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 9, 1760. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Mr. Idler, + +It is, I think, universally agreed, that seldom any good is gotten by +complaint; yet we find that few forbear to complain, but those who are +afraid of being reproached as the authors of their own miseries. I hope, +therefore, for the common permission to lay my case before you and your +readers, by which I shall disburden my heart, though I cannot hope to +receive either assistance or consolation. + +I am a trader, and owe my fortune to frugality and industry. I began +with little; but by the easy and obvious method of spending less than I +gain, I have every year added something to my stock, and expect to have +a seat in the common-council at the next election. + +My wife, who was as prudent as myself, died six years ago, and left me +one son and one daughter, for whose sake I resolved never to marry +again, and rejected the overtures of Mrs. Squeeze, the broker's widow, +who had ten thousand pounds at her own disposal. + +I bred my son at a school near Islington; and when he had learned +arithmetick, and wrote a good hand, I took him into the shop, designing, +in about ten years, to retire to Stratford or Hackney, and leave him +established in the business. + +For four years he was diligent and sedate, entered the shop before it +was opened, and when it was shut, always examined the pins of the +window. In any intermission of business it was his constant practice to +peruse the leger. I had always great hopes of him, when I observed how +sorrowfully he would shake his head over a bad debt, and how eagerly he +would listen to me when I told him that he might at one time or other +become an alderman. + +We lived together with mutual confidence, till, unluckily, a visit was +paid him by two of his school-fellows, who were placed, I suppose, in +the army, because they were fit for nothing better: they came glittering +in their military dress, accosted their old acquaintance, and invited +him to a tavern, where, as I have been since informed, they ridiculed +the meanness of commerce, and wondered how a youth of spirit could spend +the prime of life behind a counter. I did not suspect any mischief. I +knew my son was never without money in his pocket, and was better able +to pay his reckoning than his companions; and expected to see him return +triumphing in his own advantages, and congratulating himself that he was +not one of those who expose their heads to a musket bullet for three +shillings a day. + +He returned sullen and thoughtful; I supposed him sorry for the hard +fortune of his friends; and tried to comfort him, by saying that the war +would soon be at an end, and that, if they had any honest occupation, +half-pay would be a pretty help. He looked at me with indignation; and +snatching up his candle, told me, as he went up stairs, that _he hoped +to see a battle yet_. + +Why he should hope to see a battle, I could not conceive, but let him go +quietly to sleep away his folly. Next day he made two mistakes in the +first bill, disobliged a customer by surly answers, and dated all his +entries in the journal in a wrong month. At night he met his military +companions again, came home late, and quarrelled with the maid. + +From this fatal interview he has gradually lost all his laudable +passions and desires. He soon grew useless in the shop, where, indeed, I +did not willingly trust him any longer; for he often mistook the price +of goods to his own loss, and once gave a promissory note instead of a +receipt. + +I did not know to what degree he was corrupted, till an honest tailor +gave me notice that he had bespoke a laced suit, which was to be left +for him at a house kept by the sister of one of my journeymen. I went to +this clandestine lodging, and found, to my amazement, all the ornaments +of a fine gentleman, which I know not whether he has taken upon credit, +or purchased with money subducted from the shop. + +This detection has made him desperate. He now openly declares his +resolution to be a gentleman; says that his soul is too great for a +counting-house; ridicules the conversation of city taverns; talks of new +plays, and boxes and ladies; gives duchesses for his toasts; carries +silver, for readiness, in his waistcoat-pocket; and comes home at night +in a chair, with such thunders at the door, as have more than once +brought the watchmen from their stands. + +Little expenses will not hurt us; and I could forgive a few juvenile +frolicks, if he would be careful of the main; but his favourite topick +is contempt of money, which, he says, is of no use but to be spent. +Riches, without honour, he holds empty things; and once told me to my +face, that wealthy plodders were only purveyors to men of spirit. + +He is always impatient in the company of his old friends, and seldom +speaks till he is warmed with wine; he then entertains us with accounts +that we do not desire to hear, of intrigues among lords and ladies, and +quarrels between officers of the guards; shows a miniature on his +snuff-box, and wonders that any man can look upon the new dancer without +rapture. + +All this is very provoking; and yet all this might be borne, if the boy +could support his pretensions. But, whatever he may think, he is yet far +from the accomplishments which he has endeavoured to purchase at so dear +a rate. I have watched him in publick places. He sneaks in like a man +that knows he is where he should not be; he is proud to catch the +slightest salutation, and often claims it when it is not intended. Other +men receive dignity from dress, but my booby looks always more meanly +for his finery. Dear Mr. Idler, tell him what must at last become of a +fop, whom pride will not suffer to be a trader, and whom long habits in +a shop forbid to be a gentleman. + +I am, Sir, &c. + +TIM WAINSCOT. + + + + +No. 96. SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 16, 1760. + + _Qui se volet esse potentem, + Animos domet ille feroces: + Nec victa libidine colla + Foedis submittat habenis._ BOETHIUS. + +Hacho, a king of Lapland, was in his youth the most renowned of the +Northern warriors. His martial achievements remain engraved on a pillar +of flint in the rocks of Hanga, and are to this day solemnly carolled to +the harp by the Laplanders, at the fires with which, they celebrate +their nightly festivities. Such was his intrepid spirit, that he +ventured to pass the lake Vether to the isle of Wizards, where he +descended alone into the dreary vault in which a magician had been kept +bound for six ages, and read the Gothick characters inscribed on his +brazen mace. His eye was so piercing, that, as ancient chronicles +report, he could blunt the weapons of his enemies only by looking at +them. At twelve years of age he carried an iron vessel of a prodigious +weight, for the length of five furlongs, in the presence of all the +chiefs of his father's castle. + +Nor was he less celebrated for his prudence and wisdom. Two of his +proverbs are yet remembered and repeated among Laplanders. To express +the vigilance of the Supreme Being, he was wont to say, "Odin's belt is +always buckled." To show that the most prosperous condition of life is +often hazardous, his lesson was, "When you slide on the smoothest ice, +beware of pits beneath." He consoled his countrymen, when they were once +preparing to leave the frozen deserts of Lapland, and resolved to seek +some warmer climate, by telling them, that the Eastern nations, +notwithstanding their boasted fertility, passed every night amidst the +horrours of anxious apprehension, and were inexpressibly affrighted, and +almost stunned, every morning, with the noise of the sun while he was +rising. + +His temperance and severity of manners were his chief praise. In his +early years he never tasted wine; nor would he drink out of a painted +cup. He constantly slept in his armour, with his spear in his hand; nor +would he use a battle-axe whose handle was inlaid with brass. He did +not, however, persevere in this contempt of luxury; nor did he close his +days with honour. + +One evening, after hunting the gulos or wild-dog, being bewildered in a +solitary forest, and having passed the fatigues of the day without any +interval of refreshment, he discovered a large store of honey in the +hollow of a pine. This was a dainty which he had never tasted before; +and being at once faint and hungry, he fed greedily upon it. From this +unusual and delicious repast he received so much satisfaction, that, at +his return home, he commanded honey to be served up at his table every +day. His palate, by degrees, became refined and vitiated; he began to +lose his native relish for simple fare, and contracted a habit of +indulging himself in delicacies; he ordered the delightful gardens of +his castle to be thrown open, in which the most luscious fruits had been +suffered to ripen and decay, unobserved and untouched, for many +revolving autumns, and gratified his appetite with luxurious desserts. +At length he found it expedient to introduce wine, as an agreeable +improvement, or a necessary ingredient, to his new way of living; and +having once tasted it, he was tempted, by little and little, to give a +loose to the excesses of intoxication. His general simplicity of life +was changed; he perfumed his apartments by burning the wood of the most +aromatick fir, and commanded his helmet to be ornamented with beautiful +rows of the teeth of the raindeer. Indolence and effeminacy stole upon +him by pleasing and imperceptible gradations, relaxed the sinews of his +resolution, and extinguished his thirst of military glory. + +While Hacho was thus immersed in pleasure and in repose, it was reported +to him, one morning, that the preceding night, a disastrous omen had +been discovered, and that bats and hideous birds had drunk up the oil +which nourished the perpetual lamp in the temple of Odin. About the same +time, a messenger arrived to tell him, that the king of Norway had +invaded his kingdom with a formidable army. Hacho, terrified as he was +with the omen of the night, and enervated with indulgence, roused +himself from his voluptuous lethargy, and, recollecting some faint and +few sparks of veteran valour, marched forward to meet him. Both armies +joined battle in the forest where Hacho had been lost after hunting; and +it so happened, that the king of Norway challenged him to single combat, +near the place where he had tasted the honey. The Lapland chief, languid +and long disused to arms, was soon overpowered; he fell to the ground; +and before his insulting adversary struck his head from his body, +uttered this exclamation, which the Laplanders still use as an early +lesson to their children: "The vicious man should date his destruction +from the first temptation. How justly do I fall a sacrifice to sloth and +luxury, in the place where I first yielded to those allurements which +seduced me to deviate from temperance and innocence! The honey which I +tasted in this forest, and not the hand of the king of Norway, conquers +Hacho[1]." + +[1] By Mr. Thomas Warton. + + + + +No. 97. SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 23, 1760. + +It may, I think, be justly observed, that few books disappoint their +readers more than the narrations of travellers. One part of mankind is +naturally curious to learn the sentiments, manners, and condition of the +rest; and every mind that has leisure or power to extend its views, must +be desirous of knowing in what proportion Providence has distributed the +blessings of nature, or the advantages of art, among the several nations +of the earth. + +This general desire easily procures readers to every book from which it +can expect gratification. The adventurer upon unknown coasts, and the +describer of distant regions, is always welcomed as a man who has +laboured for the pleasure of others, and who is able to enlarge our +knowledge and rectify our opinions; but when the volume is opened, +nothing is found but such general accounts as leave no distinct idea +behind them, or such minute enumerations as few can read with either +profit or delight. + +Every writer of travels should consider, that, like all other authors, +he undertakes either to instruct or please, or to mingle pleasure with +instruction. He that instructs must offer to the mind something to be +imitated, or something to be avoided; he that pleases must offer new +images to his reader, and enable him to form a tacit comparison of his +own state with that of others. + +The greater part of travellers tell nothing, because their method of +travelling supplies them with nothing to be told. He that enters a town +at night, and surveys it in the morning, and then hastens away to +another place, and guesses at the manners of the inhabitants by the +entertainment which his inn afforded him, may please himself for a time +with a hasty change of scenes, and a confused remembrance of palaces and +churches; he may gratify his eye with a variety of landscapes, and +regale his palate with a succession of vintages; but let him be +contented to please himself without endeavouring to disturb others. + +Why should he record excursions by which nothing could be learned, or +wish to make a show of knowledge, which, without some power of intuition +unknown to other mortals, he never could attain? + +Of those who crowd the world with their itineraries, some have no other +purpose than to describe the face of the country; those who sit idle at +home, and are curious to know what is done or suffered in distant +countries, may be informed by one of these wanderers, that on a certain +day he set out early with the caravan, and in the first hour's march +saw, towards the south, a hill covered with trees, then passed over a +stream, which ran northward with a swift course, but which is probably +dry in the summer months; that an hour after he saw something to the +right which looked at a distance like a castle with towers, but which he +discovered afterwards to be a craggy rock; that he then entered a +valley, in which he saw several trees tall and flourishing, watered by a +rivulet not marked in the maps, of which he was not able to learn the +name; that the road afterward grew stony, and the country uneven, where +he observed among the hills many hollows worn by torrents, and was told +that the road was passable only part of the year; that going on they +found the remains of a building, once, perhaps, a fortress to secure the +pass, or to restrain the robbers, of which the present inhabitants can +give no other account than that it is haunted by fairies; that they went +to dine at the foot of a rock, and travelled the rest of the day along +the banks of a river, from which the road turned aside towards evening, +and brought them within sight of a village, which was once a +considerable town, but which afforded them neither good victuals nor +commodious lodging. + +Thus he conducts his reader through wet and dry, over rough and smooth, +without incidents, without reflection; and, if he obtains his company +for another day, will dismiss him again at night, equally fatigued with +a like succession of rocks and streams, mountains and ruins. + +This is the common style of those sons of enterprise, who visit savage +countries, and range through solitude and desolation; who pass a desert, +and tell that it is sandy; who cross a valley, and find that it is +green. There are others of more delicate sensibility, that visit only +the realms of elegance and softness; that wander through Italian +palaces, and amuse the gentle reader with catalogues of pictures; that +hear masses in magnificent churches, and recount the number of the +pillars or variegations of the pavement. And there are yet others, who, +in disdain of trifles, copy inscriptions elegant and rude, ancient and +modern; and transcribe into their book the walls of every edifice, +sacred or civil. He that reads these books must consider his labour as +its own reward; for he will find nothing on which attention can fix, or +which memory can retain. + +He that would travel for the entertainment of others, should remember +that the great object of remark is human life. Every nation has +something peculiar in its manufactures, its works of genius, its +medicines, its agriculture, its customs and its policy. He only is a +useful traveller, who brings home something by which his country may be +benefited; who procures some supply of want, or some mitigation of evil, +which may enable his readers to compare their condition with that of +others, to improve it whenever it is worse, and whenever it is better to +enjoy it. + + + + +No. 98. SATURDAY, MARCH 1, 1760. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Sir, + +I am the daughter of a gentleman, who during his lifetime enjoyed a +small income which arose from a pension from the court, by which he was +enabled to live in a genteel and comfortable manner. + +By the situation of life in which he was placed, he was frequently +introduced into the company of those of much greater fortunes than his +own, among whom he was always received with complaisance, and treated +with civility. + +At six years of age I was sent to a boarding-school in the country, at +which I continued till my father's death. This melancholy event happened +at a time when I was by no means of sufficient age to manage for myself, +while the passions of youth continued unsubdued, and before experience +could guide my sentiments or my actions. + +I was then taken from school by an uncle, to the care of whom my father +had committed me on his dying-bed. With him I lived several years; and, +as he was unmarried, the management of his family was committed to me. +In this character I always endeavoured to acquit myself, if not with +applause, at least without censure. + +At the age of twenty-one, a young gentleman of some fortune paid his +addresses to me, and offered me terms of marriage. This proposal I +should readily have accepted, because from vicinity of residence, and +from many opportunities of observing his behaviour, I had, in some sort, +contracted an affection for him. My uncle, for what reason I do not +know, refused his consent to this alliance, though it would have been +complied with by the father of the young gentleman; and, as the future +condition of my life was wholly dependant on him, I was not willing to +disoblige him, and, therefore, though unwillingly, declined the offer. + +My uncle, who possessed a plentiful fortune, frequently hinted to me in +conversation, that at his death I should be provided for in such a +manner that I should be able to make my future life comfortable and +happy. As this promise was often repeated, I was the less anxious about +any provision for myself. In a short time my uncle was taken ill, and +though all possible means were made use of for his recovery, in a few +days he died. + +The sorrow arising from the loss of a relation, by whom I had been +always treated with the greatest kindness, however grievous, was not the +worst of my misfortunes. As he enjoyed an almost uninterrupted state of +health, he was the less mindful of his dissolution, and died intestate; +by which means his whole fortune devolved to a nearer relation, the heir +at law. + +Thus excluded from all hopes of living in the manner with which I have +so long flattered myself, I am doubtful what method I shall take to +procure a decent maintenance. I have been educated in a manner that has +set me above a state of servitude, and my situation renders me unfit for +the company of those with whom I have hitherto conversed. But, though +disappointed in my expectations, I do not despair. I will hope that +assistance may still be obtained for innocent distress, and that +friendship, though rare, is yet not impossible to be found. + +I am, Sir, Your humble servant, + +SOPHIA HEEDFUL.[1] + +[1] By an unknown correspondent. + + + + +No. 99. SATURDAY, MARCH 8, 1760. + +As Ortogrul of Basra was one day wandering along the streets of Bagdat, +musing on the varieties of merchandise which the shops offered to his +view, and observing the different occupations which busied the +multitudes on every side, he was awakened from the tranquillity of +meditation by a crowd that obstructed his passage. He raised his eyes, +and saw the chief visier, who, having returned from the divan, was +entering his palace. + +Ortogrul mingled with the attendants, and being supposed to have some +petition for the visier, was permitted to enter. He surveyed the +spaciousness of the apartments, admired the walls hung with golden +tapestry, and the floors covered with silken carpets, and despised the +simple neatness of his own little habitation. + +Surely, said he to himself, this palace is the seat of happiness, where +pleasure succeeds to pleasure, and discontent and sorrow can have no +admission. Whatever Nature has provided for the delight of sense, is +here spread forth to be enjoyed. What can mortals hope or imagine, which +the master of this palace has not obtained? The dishes of luxury cover +his table, the voice of harmony lulls him in his bowers; he breathes the +fragrance of the groves of Java, and sleeps upon the down of the cygnets +of Ganges. He speaks, and his mandate is obeyed; he wishes, and his wish +is gratified; all whom he sees obey him, and all whom he hears flatter +him. How different, Ortogrul, is thy condition, who art doomed to the +perpetual torments of unsatisfied desire, and who hast no amusement in +thy power that can withhold thee from thy own reflections! They tell +thee that thou art wise; but what does wisdom avail with poverty? None +will flatter the poor, and the wise have very little power of flattering +themselves. That man is surely the most wretched of the sons of +wretchedness, who lives with his own faults and follies always before +him, and who has none to reconcile him to himself by praise and +veneration. I have long sought content, and have not found it; I will +from this moment endeavour to be rich. + +Full of this new resolution, he shut himself up in his chamber for six +months, to deliberate how he should grow rich; he sometimes proposed to +offer himself as a counsellor to one of the kings of India, and +sometimes resolved to dig for diamonds in the mines of Golconda. One +day, after some hours passed in violent fluctuation of opinion, sleep +insensibly seized him in his chair; he dreamed that he was ranging a +desert country in search of some one that might teach him to grow rich; +and as he stood on the top of a hill shaded with cypress, in doubt +whither to direct his steps, his father appeared on a sudden standing +before him. Ortogrul, said the old man, I know thy perplexity; listen to +thy father; turn thine eye on the opposite mountain. Ortogrul looked, +and saw a torrent tumbling down the rocks, roaring with the noise of +thunder, and scattering its foam on the impending woods. Now, said his +father, behold the valley that lies between the hills. Ortogrul looked, +and espied a little well, out of which issued a small rivulet. Tell me +now, said his father, dost thou wish for sudden affluence, that may pour +upon thee like the mountain torrent, or for a slow and gradual increase, +resembling the rill gliding from the well? Let me be quickly rich, said +Ortogrul; let the golden stream be quick and violent. Look round thee, +said his father, once again. Ortogrul looked, and perceived the channel +of the torrent dry and dusty; but following the rivulet from the well, +he traced it to a wide lake, which the supply, slow and constant, kept +always full. He waked, and determined to grow rich by silent profit and +persevering industry. + +Having sold his patrimony, he engaged in merchandise, and in twenty +years purchased lands, on which he raised a house, equal in +sumptuousness to that of the visier, to which he invited all the +ministers of pleasure, expecting to enjoy all the felicity which he had +imagined riches able to afford. Leisure soon made him weary of himself, +and he longed to be persuaded that he was great and happy. He was +courteous and liberal; he gave all that approached him hopes of pleasing +him, and all who should please him hopes of being rewarded. Every art of +praise was tried, and every source of adulatory fiction was exhausted. +Ortogrul heard his flatterers without delight, because he found himself +unable to believe them. His own heart told him its frailties, his own +understanding reproached him with his faults. How long, said he, with a +deep sigh, have I been labouring in vain to amass wealth which at last +is useless! Let no man hereafter wish to be rich, who is already too +wise to be flattered. + + + + +No. 100. SATURDAY, MARCH 15, 1760, + +TO THE IDLER. + +Sir, + +The uncertainty and defects of language have produced very frequent +complaints among the learned; yet there still remain many words among us +undefined, which are very necessary to be rightly understood, and which +produce very mischievous mistakes when they are erroneously interpreted. + +I lived in a state of celibacy beyond the usual time. In the hurry first +of pleasure, and afterwards of business, I felt no want of a domestick +companion; but becoming weary of labour, I soon grew more weary of +idleness, and thought it reasonable to follow the custom of life, and to +seek some solace of my cares in female tenderness, and some amusement of +my leisure in female cheerfulness. + +The choice which has been long delayed is commonly made at last with +great caution. My resolution was, to keep my passions neutral, and to +marry only in compliance with my reason. I drew upon a page of my +pocket-book a scheme of all female virtues and vices, with the vices +which border upon every virtue, and the virtues which are allied to +every vice. I considered that wit was sarcastick, and magnanimity +imperious; that avarice was economical, and ignorance obsequious; and +having estimated the good and evil of every quality, employed my own +diligence, and that of my friends, to find the lady in whom nature and +reason had reached that happy mediocrity which is equally remote from +exuberance and deficience. + +Every woman had her admirers and her censurers; and the expectations +which one raised were by another quickly depressed; yet there was one in +whose favour almost all suffrages concurred. Miss Gentle was universally +allowed to be a good sort of woman. Her fortune was not large, but so +prudently managed, that she wore finer clothes, and saw more company, +than many who were known to be twice as rich. Miss Gentle's visits were +every where welcome; and whatever family she favoured with her company, +she always left behind her such a degree of kindness as recommended her +to others. Every day extended her acquaintance; and all who knew her +declared, that they never met with a better sort of woman. + +To Miss Gentle I made my addresses, and was received with great equality +of temper. She did not in the days of courtship assume the privilege of +imposing rigorous commands, or resenting slight offences. If I forgot +any of her injunctions, I was gently reminded; if I missed the minute of +appointment, I was easily forgiven. I foresaw nothing in marriage but a +halcyon calm, and longed for the happiness which was to be found in the +inseparable society of a good sort of woman. + +The jointure was soon settled by the intervention of friends, and the +day came in which Miss Gentle was made mine for ever. The first month +was passed easily enough in receiving and repaying the civilities of our +friends. The bride practised with great exactness all the niceties of +ceremony, and distributed her notice in the most punctilious proportions +to the friends who surrounded us with their happy auguries. + +But the time soon came when we were left to ourselves, and were to +receive our pleasures from each other; and I then began to perceive that +I was not formed to be much delighted by a good sort of woman. Her great +principle is, that the orders of a family must not be broken. Every hour +of the day has its employment inviolably appropriated; nor will any +importunity persuade her to walk in the garden at the time which she has +devoted to her needlework, or to sit up stairs in that part of the +forenoon which she has accustomed herself to spend in the back parlour. +She allows herself to sit half an hour after breakfast, and an hour +after dinner; while I am talking or reading to her, she keeps her eye +upon her watch, and when the minute of departure comes, will leave an +argument unfinished, or the intrigue of a play unravelled. She once +called me to supper when I was watching an eclipse, and summoned me at +another time to bed when I was going to give directions at a fire. + +Her conversation is so habitually cautious, that she never talks to me +but in general terms, as to one whom it is dangerous to trust. For +discriminations of character she has no names: all whom she mentions are +honest men and agreeable women. She smiles not by sensation, but by +practice. Her laughter is never excited but by a joke, and her notion of +a joke is not very delicate. The repetition of a good joke does not +weaken its effect; if she has laughed once, she will laugh again. + +She is an enemy to nothing but ill-nature and pride; but she has +frequent reason to lament that they are so frequent in the world. All +who are not equally pleased with the good and the bad, with the elegant +and gross, with the witty and the dull, all who distinguish excellence +from defect, she considers as ill-natured; and she condemns as proud all +who repress impertinence or quell presumption, or expect respect from +any other eminence than that of fortune, to which she is always willing +to pay homage. + +There are none whom she openly hates, for if once she suffers, or +believes herself to suffer, any contempt or insult, she never dismisses +it from her mind, but takes all opportunities to tell how easily she can +forgive. There are none whom she loves much better than others; for when +any of her acquaintance decline in the opinion of the world, she always +finds it inconvenient to visit them; her affection continues unaltered, +but it is impossible to be intimate with the whole town. + +She daily exercises her benevolence by pitying every misfortune that +happens to every family within her circle of notice; she is in hourly +terrours lest one should catch cold in the rain, and another be frighted +by the high wind. Her charity she shows by lamenting that so many poor +wretches should languish in the streets, and by wondering what the great +can think on that they do so little good with such large estates. + +Her house is elegant, and her table dainty, though she has little taste +of elegance, and is wholly free from vicious luxury; but she comforts +herself that nobody can say that her house is dirty, or that her dishes +are not well drest. + +This, Mr. Idler, I have found, by long experience, to be the character +of a good sort of woman, which I have sent you for the information of +those by whom a _good sort of woman_ and a _good woman_, may happen to +be used as equivalent terms, and who may suffer by the mistake, like + +Your humble servant, + +TIM WARNER. + + + + +No. 101. SATURDAY, MARCH 22, 1760. + + _Carpe hilaris: fuget heu! non revocanda dies._ + +Omar, the son of Hussan, had passed seventy-five years in honour and +prosperity. The favour of three successive califs had filled his house +with gold and silver; and, whenever he appeared, the benedictions of the +people proclaimed his passage. + +Terrestrial happiness is of short continuance. The brightness of the +flame is wasting its fuel; the fragrant flower is passing away in its +own odours. The vigour of Omar began to fail, the curls of beauty fell +from his head, strength departed from his hands, and agility from his +feet. He gave back to the calif the keys of trust and the seals of +secrecy; and sought no other pleasure for the remains of life than the +converse of the wise, and the gratitude of the good. + +The powers of his mind were yet unimpaired. His chamber was filled by +visitants, eager to catch the dictates of experience, and officious to +pay the tribute of admiration. Caled, the son of the viceroy of Egypt, +entered every day early, and retired late. He was beautiful and +eloquent; Omar admired his wit, and loved his docility. Tell me, said +Caled, thou to whose voice nations have listened, and whose wisdom is +known to the extremities of Asia, tell me how I may resemble Omar the +prudent. The arts by which you have gained power and preserved it, are +to you no longer necessary or useful; impart to me the secret of your +conduct, and teach me the plan upon which your wisdom has built your +fortune. + +Young man, said Omar, it is of little use to form plans of life. When I +took my first survey of the world, in my twentieth year, having +considered the various conditions of mankind, in the hour of solitude I +said thus to myself, leaning against a cedar which spread its branches +over my head: Seventy years are allowed to man; I have yet fifty +remaining: ten years I will allot to the attainment of knowledge, and +ten I will pass in foreign countries; I shall be learned, and, +therefore, shall be honoured; every city will shout at my arrival, and +every student will solicit my friendship. Twenty years thus passed will +store my mind with images, which I shall be busy through the rest of my +life in combining and comparing. I shall revel in inexhaustible +accumulations of intellectual riches; I shall find new pleasures for +every moment, and shall never more be weary of myself. I will, however, +not deviate too far from the beaten track of life, but will try what can +be found in female delicacy. I will marry a wife beautiful as the +Houries, and wise as Zobeide; with her I will live twenty years within +the suburbs of Bagdat, in every pleasure that wealth can purchase and +fancy can invent. I will then retire to a rural dwelling, pass my last +days in obscurity and contemplation, and lie silently down on the bed of +death. Through my life it shall be my settled resolution, that I will +never depend upon the smile of princes; that I will never stand exposed +to the artifices of courts; I will never pant for publick honours, nor +disturb my quiet with affairs of state. Such was my scheme of life, +which I impressed indelibly upon my memory. + +The first part of my ensuing time was to be spent in search of +knowledge; and I know not how I was diverted from my design. I had no +visible impediments without, nor any ungovernable passions within. I +regarded knowledge as the highest honour and the most engaging pleasure; +yet day stole upon day, and month glided after month, till I found that +seven years of the first ten had vanished, and left nothing behind them. +I now postponed my purpose of travelling; for why should I go abroad +while so much remained to be learned at home? I immured myself for four +years, and studied the laws of the empire. The fame of my skill reached +the judges; I was found able to speak upon doubtful questions, and was +commanded to stand at the footstool of the calif. I was heard with +attention, I was consulted with confidence, and the love of praise +fastened on my heart. + +I still wished to see distant countries, listened with rapture to the +relations of travellers, and resolved some time to ask my dismission, +that I might feast my soul with novelty; but my presence was always +necessary, and the stream of business hurried me along. Sometimes I was +afraid lest I should be charged with ingratitude; but I still proposed +to travel, and, therefore, would, not confine myself by marriage. + +In my fiftieth year I began to suspect that the time of travelling was +past, and thought it best to lay hold on the felicity yet in my power, +and indulge myself in domestick pleasures. But at fifty no man easily +finds a woman beautiful as the Houries, and wise as Zobeide. I inquired +and rejected, consulted and deliberated, till the sixty-second year made +me ashamed of gazing upon girls. I had now nothing left but retirement, +and for retirement I never found a time, till disease forced me from +publick employment. + +Such was my scheme, and such has been its consequence. With an +insatiable thirst for knowledge, I trifled away the years of +improvement; with a restless desire of seeing different countries, I +have always resided in the same city; with the highest expectation of +connubial felicity, I have lived unmarried; and with unalterable +resolutions of contemplative retirement, I am going to die within the +walls of Bagdat. + + + + +No. 102. SATURDAY, MARCH 29, 1760. + +It very seldom happens to man that his business is his pleasure. What is +done from necessity is so often to be done when against the present +inclination, and so often fills the mind with anxiety, that an habitual +dislike steals upon us, and we shrink involuntarily from the remembrance +of our task. This is the reason why almost every one wishes to quit his +employment; he does not like another state, but is disgusted with his +own. + +From this unwillingness to perform more than is required of that which +is commonly performed with reluctance, it proceeds that few authors +write their own lives. Statesmen, courtiers, ladies, generals and seamen +have given to the world their own stories, and the events with which +their different stations have made them acquainted. They retired to the +closet as to a place of quiet and amusement, and pleased themselves with +writing, because they could lay down the pen whenever they were weary. +But the author, however conspicuous, or however important, either in the +publick eye or in his own, leaves his life to be related by his +successors, for he cannot gratify his vanity but by sacrificing his +ease. + +It is commonly supposed that the uniformity of a studious life affords +no matter for a narration: but the truth is, that of the most studious +life a great part passes without study. An author partakes of the common +condition of humanity; he is born and married like another man; he has +hopes and fears, expectations and disappointments, griefs and joys, and +friends and enemies, like a courtier or a statesman; nor can I conceive +why his affairs should not excite curiosity as much as the whisper of a +drawing-room or the factions of a camp. + +Nothing detains the reader's attention more powerfully than deep +involutions of distress, or sudden vicissitudes of fortune; and these +might be abundantly afforded by memoirs of the sons of literature. They +are entangled by contracts which they know not how to fulfil, and +obliged to write on subjects which they do not understand. Every +publication is a new period of time, from which some increase or +declension of fame is to be reckoned. The gradations of a hero's life +are from battle to battle, and of an author's from book to book. + +Success and miscarriage have the same effects in all conditions. The +prosperous are feared, hated and flattered; and the unfortunate avoided, +pitied and despised. No sooner is a book published than the writer may +judge of the opinion of the world. If his acquaintance press round him +in publick places, or salute him from the other side of the street; if +invitations to dinner come thick upon him, and those with whom he dines +keep him to supper; if the ladies turn to him when his coat is plain, +and the footmen serve him with attention and alacrity; he may be sure +that his work has been praised by some leader of literary fashions. + +Of declining reputation the symptoms are not less easily observed. If +the author enters a coffee-house, he has a box to himself; if he calls +at a bookseller's, the boy turns his back and, what is the most fatal of +all prognosticks, authors will visit him in a morning, and talk to him +hour after hour of the malevolence of criticks, the neglect of merit, +the bad taste of the age and the candour of posterity. + +All this, modified and varied by accident and custom, would form very +amusing scenes of biography, and might recreate many a mind which is +very little delighted with conspiracies or battles, intrigues of a +court, or debates of a parliament; to this might be added all the +changes of the countenance of a patron, traced from the first glow which +flattery raises in his cheek, through ardour of fondness, vehemence of +promise, magnificence of praise, excuse of delay, and lamentation of +inability, to the last chill look of final dismission, when the one +grows weary of soliciting, and the other of hearing solicitation. Thus +copious are the materials which have been hitherto suffered to lie +neglected, while the repositories of every family that has produced a +soldier or a minister are ransacked, and libraries are crowded with +useless folios of state-papers which will never be read, and which +contribute nothing to valuable knowledge. + +I hope the learned will be taught to know their own strength and their +value, and, instead of devoting their lives to the honour of those who +seldom thank them for their labours, resolve at last to do justice to +themselves. + + + + +No. 103. SATURDAY, APRIL 5, 1760. + + _Respicere ad longae jussit spatia ultima vitae_. JUV. Sat. x. 275. + +Much of the pain and pleasure of mankind arises from the conjectures +which every one makes of the thoughts of others; we all enjoy praise +which we do not hear, and resent contempt which we do not see. The Idler +may, therefore, be forgiven, if he suffers his imagination to represent +to him what his readers will say or think when they are informed that +they have now his last paper in their hands. + +Value is more frequently raised by scarcity than by use. That which lay +neglected when it was common, rises in estimation as its quantity +becomes less. We seldom learn the true want of what we have till it is +discovered that we can have no more. + +This essay will, perhaps, be read with care even by those who have not +yet attended to any other; and he that finds this late attention +recompensed, will not forbear to wish that he had bestowed it sooner. + +Though the Idler and his readers have contracted no close friendship, +they are, perhaps, both unwilling to part. There are few things not +purely evil, of which we can say, without some emotion of uneasiness, +_this is the last_. Those who never could agree together, shed tears +when mutual discontent has determined them to final separation; of a +place which has been frequently visited, though without pleasure, the +last look is taken with heaviness of heart; and the Idler, with all his +chilness of tranquillity, is not wholly unaffected by the thought that +his last essay is now before him. + +The secret horrour of the last is inseparable from a thinking being, +whose life is limited, and to whom death is dreadful. We always make a +secret comparison between a part and the whole; the termination of any +period of life reminds us that life itself has likewise its termination; +when we have done any thing for the last time, we involuntarily reflect +that a part of the days allotted us is past, and that as more is past +there is less remaining. + +It is very happily and kindly provided, that in every life there are +certain pauses and interruptions, which force consideration upon the +careless, and seriousness upon the light; points of time where one +course of action ends, and another begins; and by vicissitudes of +fortune or alteration of employment, by change of place or loss of +friendship, we are forced to say of something, _this is the last_. + +An even and unvaried tenour of life always hides from our apprehension +the approach of its end. Succession is not perceived but by variation; +he that lives to-day as he lived yesterday, and expects that, as the +present day is, such will be the morrow, easily conceives time as +running in a circle and returning to itself. The uncertainty of our +duration is impressed commonly by dissimilitude of condition; it is only +by finding life changeable that we are reminded of its shortness. + +This conviction, however forcible at every new impression, is every +moment fading from the mind; and partly by the inevitable incursion of +new images, and partly by voluntary exclusion of unwelcome thoughts, we +are again exposed to the universal fallacy; and we must do another thing +for the last time, before we consider that the time is nigh when we +shall do no more. + +As the last Idler is published in that solemn week which the Christian +world has always set apart for the examination of the conscience, the +review of life, the extinction of earthly desires, and the renovation of +holy purposes; I hope that my readers are already disposed to view every +incident with seriousness, and improve it by meditation; and that, when +they see this series of trifles brought to a conclusion, they will +consider that, by out-living the Idler, they have passed weeks, months +and years, which are now no longer in their power; that an end must in +time be put to every thing great as to every thing little; that to life +must come its last hour, and to this system of being its last day, the +hour at which probation ceases, and repentance will be vain; the day in +which every work of the hand, and imagination of the heart shall be +brought to judgment, and an everlasting futurity shall be determined by +the past[1]. + +[1] This most solemn and impressive paper may be profitably compared + with the introduction of Bishop Heber's first Bampton-Lecture. + + + + +THE IDLER. No. 22[1] + +Many naturalists are of opinion, that the animals which we commonly +consider as mute, have the power of imparting their thoughts to one +another. That they can express general sensations is very certain; every +being that can utter sounds, has a different voice for pleasure and for +pain. The hound informs his fellows when he scents his game; the hen +calls her chickens to their food by her cluck, and drives them from +danger by her scream. + +Birds have the greatest variety of notes; they have, indeed, a variety, +which seems almost sufficient to make a speech adequate to the purposes +of a life which is regulated by instinct, and can admit little change or +improvement. To the cries of birds, curiosity or superstition has been +always attentive; many have studied the language of the feathered +tribes, and some have boasted that they understood it. + +The most skilful or most confident interpreters of the sylvan dialogues +have been commonly found among the philosophers of the east, in a +country where the calmness of the air, and the mildness of the seasons, +allow the student to pass a great part of the year in groves and bowers. +But what may be done in one place by peculiar opportunities, may be +performed in another by peculiar diligence. A shepherd of Bohemia has, +by long abode in the forests, enabled himself to understand the voice of +birds; at least he relates with great confidence a story, of which the +credibility is left to be considered by the learned. + +"As I was sitting" said he, "within a hollow rock, and watching my sheep +that fed in the valley, I heard two vultures interchangeably crying on +the summit of the cliff. Both voices were earnest and deliberate. My +curiosity prevailed over my care of the flock; I climbed slowly and +silently from crag to crag, concealed among the shrubs, till I found a +cavity where I might sit and listen without suffering or giving +disturbance." + +"I soon perceived, that my labour would be well repaid; for an old +vulture was sitting on a naked prominence, with her young about her, +whom she was instructing in the arts of a vulture's life, and preparing, +by the last lecture, for their final dismission to the mountains and the +skies." + +"My children," said the old vulture, "you will the less want my +instructions, because you have had my practice before your eyes; you +have seen me snatch from the farm the household fowl; you have seen me +seize the leveret in the bush, and the kid in the pasture; you know how +to fix your talons, and how to balance your flight when you are laden +with your prey. But you remember the taste of more delicious food; I +have often regaled you with the flesh of man." "Tell us," said the young +vultures, "where man may be found, and how he may be known; his flesh is +surely the natural food of a vulture. Why have you never brought a man +in your talons to the nest?" "He is too bulky," said the mother; "when +we find a man, we can only tear away his flesh, and leave his bones upon +the ground." "Since man is so big," said the young ones, "how do you +kill him? You are afraid of the wolf and of the bear, by what power are +vultures superior to man? is man more defenceless than a sheep?" "We +have not the strength of man," returned the mother, "and I am sometimes +in doubt whether we have the subtilty; and the vultures would seldom +feast upon his flesh, had not nature, that devoted him to our uses, +infused into him a strange ferocity, which I have never observed in any +other being that feeds upon the earth. Two herds of men will often meet +and shake the earth with noise, and fill the air with fire. When you +hear noise and see fire, with flashes along the ground, hasten to the +place with your swiftest wing, for men are surely destroying one +another; you will then find the ground smoking with blood, and covered +with carcasses, of which many are dismembered and mangled for the +convenience of the vulture." "But when men have killed their prey," said +the pupil, "why do they not eat it? When the wolf has killed a sheep, he +suffers not the vulture to touch it till he has satisfied himself. Is +not man another kind of wolf?" "Man," said the mother, "is the only +beast who kills that which he does not devour, and this quality makes +him so much a benefactor to our species." "If men kill our prey and lay +it in our way," said the young one, "what need shall we have of +labouring for ourselves?" "Because man will, sometimes," replied the +mother, "remain for a long time quiet in his den. The old vultures will +tell you when you are to watch his motions. When you see men in great +numbers moving close together, like a flock of storks, you may conclude +that they are hunting, and that you will soon revel in human blood." +"But still," said the young one, "I would gladly know the reason of this +mutual slaughter. I could never kill what I could not eat." "My child," +said the mother, "this is a question which I cannot answer, though I am +reckoned the most subtle bird of the mountain. When I was young, I used +frequently to visit the aerie of an old vulture, who dwelt upon the +Carpathian rocks; he had made many observations; he knew the places that +afforded prey round his habitation; as far in every direction as the +strongest wing can fly between the rising and setting of the summer sun; +he had fed year after year on the entrails of men. His opinion was, that +men had only the appearance of animal life, being really vegetables with +a power of motion; and that as the boughs of an oak are dashed together +by the storm, that swine may fatten upon the fallen acorns, so men are +by some unaccountable power driven one against another, till they lose +their motion, that vultures may be fed. Others think they have observed +something of contrivance and policy among these mischievous beings; and +those that hover more closely round them, pretend, that there is, in +every herd, one that gives directions to the rest, and seems to be more +eminently delighted with a wide carnage. What it is that entitles him to +such preeminence we know not; he is seldom the biggest or the swiftest, +but he shows by his eagerness and diligence that he is, more than any of +the others, a friend to the vultures." + +[1] This was the original No. 22, but on the republication of the work + in volumes, Dr. Johnson substituted what now stands under that head. + +END OF VOL. IV. + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Works of Samuel Johnson in Nine +Volumes, by Samuel Johnson + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WORKS OF SAMUEL JOHNSON, VOL. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Works of Samuel Johnson in Nine Volumes + Volume IV: The Adventurer; The Idler + +Author: Samuel Johnson + +Release Date: April 15, 2004 [EBook #12050] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WORKS OF SAMUEL JOHNSON, VOL. IV. *** + + + + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Carol David and PG Distributed Proofreaders + + + + +DR. JOHNSON'S WORKS. + + + +THE + +ADVENTURER AND IDLER. + + + +THE + +WORKS + +OF + +SAMUEL JOHNSON, LL.D. + +IN NINE VOLUMES. + +VOLUME THE FOURTH. + + +MDCCCXXV. + + + +PREFATORY NOTICE + +TO + +THE ADVENTURER. + +The Adventurer was projected in the year 1752, by Dr. John Hawkesworth. +He was partly induced to undertake the work by his admiration of the +Rambler, which had now ceased to appear, the style and sentiments of +which evidently, from his commencement, he made the models of his +imitation. + +The first number was published on the seventh of November, 1752. The +quantity and price were the same as the Rambler, and also the days of +its appearance. He was joined in his labours by Dr. Johnson in 1753, +whose first paper is dated March 3, of that year; and after its +publication Johnson applied to his friend, Dr. Joseph Warton, for his +assistance, which was afforded: and the writers then were, besides the +projector Dr. Hawkesworth, Dr. Johnson, Dr. Joseph Warton, Dr. Bathurst, +Colman, Mrs. Chapone and the Hon. Hamilton Boyle, the accomplished son +of Lord Orrery [1]. + +Our business, however, in the present pages, does not lie with the +Adventurer in general, but only with Dr. Johnson's contributions; which +amount to the number of twenty-nine, beginning with No. 34, and ending +with No. 138. + +Much criticism has been employed in appropriating some of them, and the +carelessness of editors has overlooked several that have been +satisfactorily proved to be Johnson's own[2]. + +Mr. Boswell relies on internal evidence, which is unnecessary, since in +Dr. Warton's copy (and his authority on the subject will scarcely be +disputed) the following remark was found at the end: "The papers marked +T were written by Mr. S. Johnson." Mrs. Anna Williams asserted that he +dictated most of these to Dr. Bathurst, to whom he presented the +profits. The anecdote may well be believed from the usual benevolence of +Johnson and his well-known attachment to that amiable physician, whose +professional knowledge might undoubtedly have enabled him to offer hints +to Johnson in the progress of composition. Thus we may account for the +references to recondite medical writers in No. 39, which so staggered +Boswell and Malone in pronouncing on the genuineness of this paper. +Those who are familiar with Johnson's writings can have little +hesitation, we conceive, in recognising his style, and manner, and +sentiments in those papers which are now published under his name. They +may be considered as a continuation of the Rambler. The same subjects +are discussed; the interests of literature and of literary men, the +emptiness of praise and the vanity of human wishes. The same intimate +knowledge, of the town and its manners is displayed[3]; and occasionally +we are amused with humorous delineation of adventure and of +character[4]. + +From the greater variety of its subjects, aided, perhaps, by a growing +taste for periodical literature, the sale of the Adventurer was greater +than that of the Rambler on its first appearance. But still there were +those, who "talked of it as a catch-penny performance, carried on by a +set of needy and obscure scribblers[5]." So slowly is a national taste +for letters diffused, and so hardly do works of sterling merit, which +deal not in party-politics, nor exemplify their ethical discussions by +holding out living characters to censure or contempt, win the applause +of those, whose passions leave them no leisure for abstracted truth, and +whom virtue itself cannot please by its naked dignity. But, by such, +Johnson professed, that he had little expectation of his writings being +perused. Keeping then our main object more immediately in view, the +elucidation of Johnson's real character and motives, we cannot but +admire the prompt benevolence, with which he joined Hawkesworth in his +task, and the ready zeal, with which he embraced any opportunity of +promoting the interests of morality and virtue. "To a benevolent +disposition every state of life will afford some opportunities of +contributing to the welfare of mankind," is the characteristic opening +of his first Adventurer. And when we have admired the real excellence of +his heart, we must wonder at the vigour of a mind, which could so +abstract itself from its own sorrows and misfortunes, which too often +deaden our feelings of pity, as to sympathize with others in affliction, +and even to promote innocent cheerfulness. Bowed down by the loss of a +wife[6], on whom he had called from amidst the horrors of a hopeless +melancholy, to "hide him from the ills of life," and depressed by +poverty, "that numbs the soul with icy hand," his genius sank not +beneath a load, which might have crushed the loftiest; but the +"incumbrances of his fortune were shaken from his mind, 'as dew-drops +from a lion's mane[7].'" + +The same pure and exalted morality, which stamps their chief value on +the pages of the Rambler, instructs us in the lessons of the Adventurer. +Here is no cold doctrine of expediency or dangerous speculations on +moral approbation, no easy virtue which can be practised without a +struggle, and which interdicts the gratification of no passion but +malice: here is no compromise of personal sensuality, for an endurance +of others' frailties, amounting to an indifference of moral distinctions +altogether. Johnson boldly and, at once, propounds the real motives to +Christian conduct; and does not, with some ethical writers, in a slavish +dread of interfering with the more immediate office of the divine, hold +out slender inducements to virtuous action, which can never give us +strength to stem the torrent of passion; but holding with the acute Owen +Feltham[8], "that, as true religion cannot be without morality, no more +can morality, that is right, be without religion," Johnson ever directs +our attention, not to the world's smile or frown, but to the discharge +of the duty which Providence assigns us, by the consideration of the +awful approach of that night when no man can work. To conclude with the +appropriate words of an eloquent writer, "in his sublime discussions of +the most sacred truths, as no style can be too lofty nor conceptions too +grand for such a subject, so has the great master never exerted the +powers of his great genius with more signal success. Impiety shrinks +beneath his rebuke; the atheist trembles and repents; the dying sinner +catches a gleam of revealed hope; and all acknowledge the just +dispensations of eternal Wisdom[9]." + +FOOTNOTES: + +[1] For the general history of the Adventurer, the reader may be + referred to Chalmers' British Essayists, xxiii, Dr. Drake's Essays + on Rambler, Adventurer, &c. ii, and Boswell's Journal, 3rd edit. p. + 240. + +[2] Five of these, Nos. 39, 67, 74, 81, and 128, which Sir John Hawkins + omitted to arrange among the writings of Johnson, are given in this + edition. + +[3] See particularly the Letters of Misagargyrus. + +[4] The description in No. 84, of the incidents of a stage-coach + journey, so often imitated by succeeding writers, but, perhaps, + never surpassed, will exemplify the above remark. + +[5] See Lounger, No. 30. + +[6] "I have heard, he means to occasionally throw some papers into the + Daily Advertiser; but he has not begun yet, as he is in great + affliction, I fear, poor man, for the loss of his wife."--Letter + from Miss Talbot to Mrs. Carter. Mrs. Johnson died March 17, 1752. + +[7] See the Preface to Shakespeare. + +[8] Owen Feltham's Resolves. + +[9] Indian Observer, No. 1, 1793. See likewise Adventurers, Nos. 120, + 126, 128. + + + + +PREFATORY NOTICE + +TO + +THE IDLER. + + +The Idler may be ranked among the best attempts which have been made to +render our common newspapers the medium of rational amusement; and it +maintained its ground in this character longer than any of the papers +which have been brought forward by Colman and others on the same +plan[1]. Dr. Johnson first inserted this production in the Universal +Chronicle, or Weekly Gazette, April 15, 1758, four years after he had +desisted from his labours as an essayist. It would seem probable, that +Newbery, the publisher of the Chronicle, projected it as a vehicle for +Johnson's essays, since it ceased to appear when its pages were no +longer enlivened by the humour of the Idler. + +It is well known, that Johnson was not "built of the press and pen[2]" +when he composed the Rambler; but his sphere of observation had been +much enlarged since its publication, and his more ample means no longer +suffered his genius to be "limited by the narrow conversation, to which +men in want are inevitably condemned[3]." "The sublime philosophy of the +Rambler cannot properly be said to have portrayed the manners of the +times; it has seldom touched on subjects so transient and fugitive, but +has displayed the more fixed and invariable operations of the human +heart[4]." But the Idler breathes more of a worldly spirit, and savours +less of the closet than Johnson's earlier essays; and, accordingly, we +find delineated in its diversified pages the manners and characters of +the day in amusing variety and contrast. + +Written professedly for a paper of miscellaneous intelligence, the Idler +dwells on the passing incidents of the day, whether serious or light[5], +and abounds with party and political allusion. Johnson ever surveyed +mankind with the eye of a philosopher; but his own easier circumstances +would now present the world's aspect to him in brighter, fairer colours. +Besides, he could, with more propriety and less risk of misapprehension, +venture to trifle now, than when first he addressed the public. + +The World[6] had diffused its precepts, and corrected the fluctuating +manners of fashion, in the tone of fashionable raillery; and the +Connoisseur[7], by its gay and sparkling effusions, had forwarded the +advance of the public mind to that last stage of intellectual +refinement, in which alone a relish exists for delicate and half latent +irony. The plain and literal citizens of an earlier period, who conned +over what was "so nominated in the bend," would have misapprehended that +graceful playfulness of satire, elegant and fanciful as ever charmed the +leisure of the literary loungers of Athens. For, in the writings of +Bonnel Thornton and Colman, the philosophy of Aristippus may indeed be +said to be revived[8]. We would not, however, be supposed, by these +allusions, to imply that all the papers of the Idler are light and +sportive; or that Johnson for a moment lost sight of a grand moral end +in all his discussions. His mind only accommodated itself to the +circumstances in which it was placed, and diligently sought to avail +itself of each varying opportunity to admonish and to benefit, whether +from the chair of philosophic reproof or in the cheerful, social circle. +Whatever faults have been charged upon the Idler may be traced, we +conceive, to this source. Nobody at times, said Johnson, talks more +laxly than I do[9]. And this acknowledged propensity may well be +presumed to have affected the humorous and almost conversational tone of +the work before us. In the conscious pride of mental might and in the +easier moments of conversations, that illuminated the minds of +Reynolds[10] and of Burke, Johnson delighted to indulge in a lively +sophistry which might sometimes deceive himself, when at first he merely +wished to sport in elegant raillery or ludicrous paradox. When these +sallies were recorded and brought to bear against him on future +occasions, irritated at their misconstruction and conscious to himself +of an upright intention, or at most of only a wish to promote innocent +cheerfulness, he was too stubborn in retracting what he had thus +advanced. Hence, when menaced with a prosecution for his definition of +Excise in his Dictionary, so far from offering apology or promising +alteration, he called, in his Idler, a Commissioner of Excise the lowest +of human beings, and classes him with the scribbler for a party[11]. So +strange a definition and still less pardonable adherence to it can only +be justified on the ground of Johnson's warm feelings for the comfort of +the middle class of society. He knew that the execution of the excise +laws involved an intrusion into the privacies of domestic life, and +often violated the fireside of the unoffending and quiet tradesman. He, +therefore, disliked those laws altogether, and his warm-hearted +disposition would not allow him to calculate on their abstract +advantages with modern political economists, who, in their generalizing +doctrines, too frequently overlook individual comfort and interests. His +remarks, in the same paper, on the edition of the Pleas of the Crown +cannot be thus vindicated, and we must here lament an error in an +otherwise honest and well-intentioned mind[12]. Every impartial reader +of his works may thus easily trace to their origin Johnson's chief +political errors, and his research must terminate in admiration of a +writer, who never prostituted his pen to fear or favour; and who, though +erroneous often in his estimate of men and measures, still, in his +support of a party, firmly believed himself to be the advocate of +morality and right. His tenderness of spirit, his firm principles and +his deep sense of the emptiness of human pursuits are visible amidst the +lighter papers of the Idler, and his serious reflections are, perhaps, +more strikingly affecting as contrasted with mirthfulness and +pleasantry. + +His concluding paper and the one[13] on the death of his mother have, +perhaps, never been surpassed. Here is no affectation of sentimentality, +no morbid and puling complaints, but the dignified and chastened +expression of sorrow, which a mind, constituted as Johnson's, must have +experienced on the departure of a mother. A heart, tender and +susceptible of pathetic emotion, as his was, must have deeply felt, how +dreary it is to walk downward to the grave unregarded by her "who has +looked on our childhood." Occasions for more violent and perturbed grief +may occur to us in our passage through life, but the gentle, quiet death +of a mother speaks to us with "still small voice" of our wasting years, +and breaks completely and, at once, our earliest and most cherished +associations. This tenderness of spirit seems ever to have actuated +Johnson, and he is surely greatest when he breathes it forth over the +sorrows and miseries of man. Even in his humorous papers, he never +wounds feeling for the sake of raising a laugh, nor sports with folly, +but in the hope of reclaiming the vicious and with the design of warning +the young of the delusion and danger of an example, which can only be +imitated by the forfeiture of virtue and the practice of vice. "In +whatever he undertook, it was his determined purpose to rectify the +heart, to purify the passions, to give ardour to virtue and confidence +to truth[14]." + +FOOTNOTES: + +[1] The Genius was published by Colman in the St. James's Chronicle, + 1761, 1762. The Gentleman, by the same author, came out in the + London-Packet, 1775. The Grumbler was the production of the + Antiquary Grose, and appeared in the English Chronicle, 1791. + +[2] Owen Feltham. + +[3] Preface to Shakespeare. + +[4] Country Spectator, No. 1. + +[5] Idler, No. 6. + +[6] The World was published in 1753. + +[7] The Connoisseur appeared in 1754. + +[8] See Dr. Drake's Essays, II. + +[9] Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides. + +[10] See life of Sir Joshua Reynolds, prefixed to his Works by Malone, + i. 28, &c. + +[11] See Idler, No. 65 and Mr. Chalmers' Preface to vol. 33 of the + British Essayists. + +[12] See Gentleman's Magazine 1706. p. 272. + +[13] Idler, No. 41. + +[14] See Pursuits of Literature, Dialogue I. note. + + + + + +CONTENTS OF THE FOURTH VOLUME. + + +THE ADVENTURER. + + +34. Folly of extravagance. The story of Misargyrus + +39. On sleep + +41. Sequel of the story of Misargyrus + +45. The difficulty of forming confederacies + +50. On lying + +53. Misargyrus' account of his companions in the Fleet + +58. Presumption of modern criticism censured. Ancient poetry necessarily + obscure. Examples from Horace + +62. Misargyrus' account of his companions concluded + +67. On the trades of London + +69. Idle hope + +74. Apology for neglecting officious advice + +81. Incitement to enterprise and emulation. Some account of the + admirable Crichton + +84. Folly of false pretences to importance. A journey in a stagecoach + +85. Study, composition, and converse equally necessary to intellectual + accomplishment + +92. Criticism on the Pastorals of Virgil + +95. Apology for apparent plagiarism. Sources of literary variety + +99. Projectors injudiciously censured and applauded + +102. Infelicities of retirement to men of business + +107. Different opinions equally plausible + +108. On the uncertainty of human things + +111. The pleasures and advantages of industry + +115. The itch of writing universal + +119. The folly of creating artificial wants + +120. The miseries of life + +126. Solitude not eligible + +128. Men differently employed unjustly censured by each other + +131. Singularities censured + +137. Writers not a useless generation + +138. Their happiness and infelicity + + + +THE IDLER. + +1. The Idler's character. + +2. Invitation to correspondents. + +3. Idler's reason for writing. + +4. Charities and hospitals. + +5. Proposal for a female army. + +6. Lady's performance on horseback. + +7. Scheme for news-writers. + +8. Plan of military discipline. + +9. Progress of idleness. + +10. Political credulity. + +11. Discourses on the weather. + +12. Marriages, why advertised. + +13. The imaginary housewife. + +14. Robbery of time. + +15. Treacle's complaint of his wife. + +16. Drugget's retirement. + +17. Expedients of idlers. + +18. Drugget vindicated. + +19. Whirler's character. + +20. Capture of Louisbourg. + +21. Linger's history of listlessness. + +22. Imprisonment of debtors. + +23. Uncertainty of friendship. + +24. Man does not always think. + +25. New actors on the stage. + +26. Betty Broom's history. + +27. Power of habits. + +28. Wedding-day. Grocer's wife. Chairman. + +29. Betty Broom's history continued. + +30. Corruption of news-writers. + +31. Disguises of idleness. Sober's character. + +32. On Sleep. + +33. Journal of a fellow of a college. + +34. Punch and conversation compared. + +35. Auction-hunter described and ridiculed. + +36. The terrific diction ridiculed. + +37. Useful things easy of attainment. + +38. Cruelty shown to debtors in prison. + +39. The various uses of the bracelet. + +40. The art of advertising exemplified. + +41. Serious reflections on the death of a friend. + +42. Perdita's complaint of her father. + +43. Monitions on the flight of time. + +44. The use of memory considered. + +45. On painting. Portraits defended. + +46. Molly Quick's complaint of her mistress. + +47. Deborah Ginger's account of city-wits. + +48. The bustle of idleness described and ridiculed. + +49. Marvel's journey narrated. + +50. Marvel's journey paralleled. + +51. Domestick greatness unattainable. + +52. Self-denial necessary. + +53. Mischiefs of good company. + +54. Mrs. Savecharges' complaint. + +55. Authors' mortifications. + +56. Virtuosos whimsical. + +57. Character of Sophron. + +58. Expectations of pleasure frustrated. + +59. Books fall into neglect. + +60. Minim the critic. + +61. Minim the critic. + +62. Hanger's account of the vanity of riches. + +63. Progress of arts and language. + +64. Ranger's complaint concluded. + +65. Fate of posthumous works. + +66. Loss of ancient writings. + +67. Scholar's journal. + +68. History of translation. + +69. History of translation. + +70. Hard words defended. + +71. Dick Shifter's rural excursion. + +72. Regulation of memory. + +73. Tranquil's use of riches. + +74. Memory rarely deficient. + +75. Gelaleddin of Bassora. + +76. False criticisms on painting. + +77. Easy writing. + +78. Steady, Snug, Startle, Solid and Misty. + +79. Grand style of painting. + +80. Ladies' journey to London. + +81. Indian's speech to his countrymen. + +82. The true idea of beauty. + +83. Scruple, Wormwood, Sturdy and Gentle. + +84. Biography, how best performed. + +85. Books multiplied by useless compilations. + +86. Miss Heartless' want of a lodging. + +87. Amazonian bravery revived. + +88. What have ye done? + +89. Physical evil moral good. + +90. Rhetorical action considered. + +91. Sufficiency of the English language. + +92. Nature of cunning. + +93. Sam Softly's history. + +94. Obstructions of learning. + +95. Tim Wainscot's son a fine gentleman. + +96. Hacho of Lapland. + +97. Narratives of travellers considered. + +98. Sophia Heedful. + +99. Ortogrul of Basra. + +100. The good sort of woman. + +101. Omar's plan of life. + +102. Authors inattentive to themselves. + +103. Honour of the last. + + + + + +THE + +ADVENTURER. + + + +No. 34. SATURDAY, MARCH 3, 1753. + + _Has toties optata exegit gloria paenas._ Juv. Sat. x. 187. + Such fate pursues the votaries of praise. + +TO THE ADVENTURER. + +SIR, + +Fleet Prison, Feb. 24. + +To a benevolent disposition, every state of life will afford some +opportunities of contributing to the welfare of mankind. Opulence and +splendour are enabled to dispel the cloud of adversity, to dry up the +tears of the widow and the orphan, and to increase the felicity of all +around them: their example will animate virtue, and retard the progress +of vice. And even indigence and obscurity, though without power to +confer happiness, may at least prevent misery, and apprize those who are +blinded by their passions, that they are on the brink of irremediable +calamity. Pleased, therefore, with the thought of recovering others from +that folly which has embittered my own days, I have presumed to address +the ADVENTURER from the dreary mansions of wretchedness and despair, of +which the gates are so wonderfully constructed, as to fly open for the +reception of strangers, though they are impervious as a rock of adamant +to such as are within them: + + --_Facilis descensus Averni: + Noctes utque dies patet atri janua Ditis: + Sed revocare gradum, superasque evadere ad auras, + Hoc opus, hic labor est_.--VIRG. AEn. vi. 126. + + The gates of hell are open night and day; + Smooth the descent, and easy is the way: + But to return and view the cheerful skies; + In this the task and mighty labour lies. DRYDEN. + +Suffer me to acquaint you, Sir, that I have glittered at the ball, and +sparkled in the circle; that I have had the happiness to be the unknown +favourite of an unknown lady at the masquerade, have been the delight of +tables of the first fashion, and envy of my brother beaux; and to +descend a little lower, it is, I believe, still remembered, that Messrs. +Velours and d'Espagne stand indebted for a great part of their present +influence at Guildhall, to the elegance of my shape, and the graceful +freedom of my carriage. + + --_Sed quae praeclara et prospera tanti, + Ut rebus laetis par sit mensura malorum_? Juv. Sat. x. 97. + + See the wild purchase of the bold and vain, + Where every bliss is bought with equal pain! + +As I entered into the world very young, with an elegant person and a +large estate, it was not long before I disentangled myself from the +shackles of religion; for I was determined to the pursuit of pleasure, +which according to my notions consisted in the unrestrained and +unlimited gratifications of every passion and every appetite; and as +this could not be obtained under the frowns of a perpetual dictator, I +considered religion as my enemy; and proceeding to treat her with +contempt and derision, was not a little delighted, that the +unfashionableness of her appearance, and the unanimated uniformity of +her motions, afforded frequent opportunities for the sallies of my +imagination. + +Conceiving now that I was sufficiently qualified to laugh away scruples, +I imparted my remarks to those among my female favourites, whose virtue +I intended to attack; for I was well assured, that pride would be able +to make but a weak defence, when religion was subverted; nor was my +success below my expectation: the love of pleasure is too strongly +implanted in the female breast, to suffer them scrupulously to examine +the validity of arguments designed to weaken restraint; all are easily +led to believe, that whatever thwarts their inclination must be wrong: +little more, therefore, was required, than by the addition of some +circumstances, and the exaggeration of others, to make merriment supply +the place of demonstration; nor was I so senseless as to offer arguments +to such as could not attend to them, and with whom a repartee or catch +would more effectually answer the same purpose. This being effected, +there remained only "the dread of the world:" but Roxana soared too +high, to think the opinion of others worthy her notice; Laetitia seemed +to think of it only to declare, that "if all her hairs were worlds," she +should reckon them "well lost for love;" and Pastorella fondly +conceived, that she could dwell for ever by the side of a bubbling +fountain, content with her swain and fleecy care; without considering +that stillness and solitude can afford satisfaction only to innocence. + +It is not the desire of new acquisitions, but the glory of conquests, +that fires the soldier's breast; as indeed the town is seldom worth +much, when it has suffered the devastations of a siege; so that though I +did not openly declare the effects of my own prowess, which is forbidden +by the laws of honour, it cannot be supposed that I was very solicitous +to bury my reputation, or to hinder accidental discoveries. To have +gained one victory, is an inducement to hazard a second engagement: and +though the success of the general should be a reason for increasing the +strength of the fortification, it becomes, with many, a pretence for an +immediate surrender, under the notion that no power is able to withstand +so formidable an adversary; while others brave the danger, and think it +mean to surrender, and dastardly to fly. Melissa, indeed, knew better; +and though she could not boast the apathy, steadiness, and inflexibility +of a Cato, wanted not the more prudent virtue of Scipio, and gained the +victory by declining the contest. + +You must not, however, imagine, that I was, during this state of +abandoned libertinism, so fully convinced of the fitness of my own +conduct, as to be free from uneasiness. I knew very well, that I might +justly be deemed the pest of society, and that such proceedings must +terminate in the destruction of my health and fortune; but to admit +thoughts of this kind was to live upon the rack: I fled, therefore, to +the regions of mirth and jollity, as they are called, and endeavoured +with Burgundy, and a continual rotation of company, to free myself from +the pangs of reflection. From these orgies we frequently sallied forth +in quest of adventures, to the no small terrour and consternation of all +the sober stragglers that came in our way: and though we never injured, +like our illustrious progenitors, the Mohocks, either life or limbs; yet +we have in the midst of Covent Garden buried a tailor, who had been +troublesome to some of our fine gentlemen, beneath a heap of +cabbage-leaves and stalks, with this conceit, + + _Satia te caule quem semper cupisti_. + + Glut yourself with cabbage, of which you have always been greedy. + +There can be no reason for mentioning the common exploits of breaking +windows and bruising the watch; unless it be to tell you of the device +of producing before the justice broken lanterns, which have been paid +for an hundred times; or their appearances with patches on their heads, +under pretence of being cut by the sword that was never drawn: nor need +I say any thing of the more formidable attack of sturdy chairmen, armed +with poles; by a slight stroke of which, the pride of Ned Revel's face +was at once laid flat, and that effected in an instant, which its most +mortal foe had for years assayed in vain. I shall pass over the +accidents that attended attempts to scale windows, and endeavours to +dislodge signs from their hooks: there are many "hair-breadth 'scapes," +besides those in the "imminent deadly breach;" but the rake's life, +though it be equally hazardous with that of the soldier, is neither +accompanied with present honour nor with pleasing retrospect; such is, +and such ought to be, the difference between the enemy and the preserver +of his country. + +Amidst such giddy and thoughtless extravagance, it will not seem +strange, that I was often the dupe of coarse flattery. When Mons. +L'Allonge assured me, that I thrust quart over arm better than any man +in England, what could I less than present him with a sword that cost me +thirty pieces? I was bound for a hundred pounds for Tom Trippet, because +he had declared that he would dance a minuet with any man in the three +kingdoms except myself. But I often parted with money against my +inclination, either because I wanted the resolution to refuse, or +dreaded the appellation of a niggardly fellow; and I may be truly said +to have squandered my estate, without honour, without friends, and +without pleasure. The last may, perhaps, appear strange to men +unacquainted with the masquerade of life: I deceived others, and I +endeavoured to deceive myself; and have worn the face of pleasantry and +gaiety, while my heart suffered the most exquisite torture. + +By the instigation and encouragement of my friends, I became at length +ambitious of a seat in parliament; and accordingly set out for the town +of Wallop in the west, where my arrival was welcomed by a thousand +throats, and I was in three days sure of a majority: but after drinking +out one hundred and fifty hogsheads of wine, and bribing two-thirds of +the corporation twice over, I had the mortification to find that the +borough had been before sold to Mr. Courtly. + +In a life of this kind, my fortune, though considerable, was presently +dissipated; and as the attraction grows more strong the nearer any body +approaches the earth, when once a man begins to sink into poverty, he +falls with velocity always increasing; every supply is purchased at a +higher and higher price, and every office of kindness obtained with +greater and greater difficulty. Having now acquainted you with my state +of elevation, I shall, if you encourage the continuance of my +correspondence, shew you by what steps I descended from a first floor in +Pall-Mall to my present habitation[1]. + +I am, Sir, + +Your humble servant, + +MISARGYRUS. + +[1] For an account of the disputes raised on this paper, and on the + other letters of Misargyrus, see Preface. + + + + +No. 39. TUESDAY, MARCH 20, 1753. + + --[Greek: Oduseus phulloisi kalupsato to d ar Athaenae + Hypnon ep ommasi cheu, ina min pauseie tachista + Dusponeos kamatoio.]--HOM. E. 491 + + --Pallas pour'd sweet slumbers on his soul; + And balmy dreams, the gift of soft repose, + Calm'd all his pains, and banish'd all his woes. POPE. + +If every day did not produce fresh instances of the ingratitude of +mankind, we might, perhaps, be at a loss, why so liberal and impartial a +benefactor as sleep, should meet with so few historians or panegyrists. +Writers are so totally absorbed by the business of the day, as never to +turn their attention to that power, whose officious hand so seasonably +suspends the burthen of life; and without whose interposition man would +not be able to endure the fatigue of labour, however rewarded, or the +struggle with opposition, however successful. + +Night, though she divides to many the longest part of life, and to +almost all the most innocent and happy, is yet unthankfully neglected, +except by those who pervert her gifts. + +The astronomers, indeed, expect her with impatience, and felicitate +themselves upon her arrival: Fontenelle has not failed to celebrate her +praises; and to chide the sun for hiding from his view the worlds, which +he imagines to appear in every constellation. Nor have the poets been +always deficient in her praises: Milton has observed of the night, that +it is "the pleasant time, the cool, the silent." + +These men may, indeed, well be expected to pay particular homage to +night; since they are indebted to her, not only for cessation of pain, +but increase of pleasure; not only for slumber, but for knowledge. But +the greater part of her avowed votaries are the sons of luxury; who +appropriate to festivity the hours designed for rest; who consider the +reign of pleasure as commencing when day begins to withdraw her busy +multitudes, and ceases to dissipate attention by intrusive and unwelcome +variety; who begin to awake to joy when the rest of the world sinks into +insensibility; and revel in the soft affluence of flattering and +artificial lights, which "more shadowy set off the face of things." + +Without touching upon the fatal consequences of a custom, which, as +Ramazzini observes, will be for ever condemned, and for ever retained; +it may be observed, that however sleep may be put off from time to time, +yet the demand is of so importunate a nature, as not to remain long +unsatisfied: and if, as some have done, we consider it as the tax of +life, we cannot but observe it as a tax that must be paid, unless we +could cease to be men; for Alexander declared, that nothing convinced +him that he was not a divinity, but his not being able to live without +sleep. + +To live without sleep in our present fluctuating state, however +desirable it might seem to the lady in Clelia, can surely be the wish +only of the young or the ignorant; to every one else, a perpetual vigil +will appear to be a state of wretchedness, second only to that of the +miserable beings, whom Swift has in his travels so elegantly described, +as "supremely cursed with immortality." + +Sleep is necessary to the happy to prevent satiety, and to endear life +by a short absence; and to the miserable, to relieve them by intervals +of quiet. Life is to most, such as could not be endured without frequent +intermission of existence: Homer, therefore, has thought it an office +worthy of the goddess of wisdom, to lay Ulysses asleep when landed on +Phaeacia. + +It is related of Barretier, whose early advances in literature scarce +any human mind has equalled, that he spent twelve hours of the +four-and-twenty in sleep: yet this appears from the bad state of his +health, and the shortness of his life, to have been too small a respite +for a mind so vigorously and intensely employed: it is to be regretted, +therefore, that he did not exercise his mind less, and his body more: +since by this means, it is highly probable, that though he would not then +have astonished with the blaze of a comet, he would yet have shone with +the permanent radiance of a fixed star. + +Nor should it be objected, that there have been many men who daily spend +fifteen or sixteen hours in study: for by some of whom this is reported +it has never been done; others have done it for a short time only; and +of the rest it appears, that they employed their minds in such +operations as required neither celerity nor strength, in the low +drudgery of collating copies, comparing authorities, digesting +dictionaries, or accumulating compilations. + +Men of study and imagination are frequently upbraided by the industrious +and plodding sons of care, with passing too great a part of their life +in a state of inaction. But these defiers of sleep seem not to remember +that though it must be granted them that they are crawling about before +the break of day, it can seldom be said that they are perfectly awake; +they exhaust no spirits, and require no repairs; but lie torpid as a +toad in marble, or at least are known to live only by an inert and +sluggish locomotive faculty, and may be said, like a wounded snake, to +"drag their slow length along." + +Man has been long known among philosophers by the appellation of the +microcosm, or epitome of the world: the resemblance between the great +and little world might, by a rational observer, be detailed to many +particulars; and to many more by a fanciful speculatist. I know not in +which of these two classes I shall be ranged for observing, that as the +total quantity of light and darkness allotted in the course of the year +to every region of the earth is the same, though distributed at various +times and in different portions; so, perhaps, to each individual of the +human species, nature has ordained the same quantity of wakefulness and +sleep; though divided by some into a total quiescence and vigorous +exertion of their faculties, and, blended by others in a kind of +twilight of existence, in a state between dreaming and reasoning, in +which they either think without action, or act without thought. + +The poets are generally well affected to sleep: as men who think with +vigour, they require respite from thought; and gladly resign themselves +to that gentle power, who not only bestows rest, but frequently leads +them to happier regions, where patrons are always kind, and audiences +are always candid; where they are feasted in the bowers of imagination, +and crowned with flowers divested of their prickles, and laurels of +unfading verdure. + +The more refined and penetrating part of mankind, who take wide surveys +of the wilds of life, who see the innumerable terrours and distresses +that are perpetually preying on the heart of man, and discern with +unhappy perspicuity, calamities yet latent in their causes, are glad to +close their eyes upon the gloomy prospect, and lose in a short +insensibility the remembrance of others' miseries and their own. The +hero has no higher hope, than that, after having routed legions after +legions, and added kingdom to kingdom, he shall retire to milder +happiness, and close his days in social festivity. The wit or the sage +can expect no greater happiness, than that, after having harassed his +reason in deep researches, and fatigued his fancy in boundless +excursions, he shall sink at night in the tranquillity of sleep. + +The poets, among all those that enjoy the blessings of sleep, have been +least ashamed to acknowledge their benefactor. How much Statius +considered the evils of life as assuaged and softened by the balm of +slumber, we may discover by that pathetick invocation, which he poured +out in his waking nights: and that Cowley, among the other felicities of +his darling solitude, did not forget to number the privilege of sleeping +without disturbance, we may learn from the rank that he assigns among +the gifts of nature to the poppy, "which is scattered," says he, "over +the fields of corn, that all the needs of man may be easily satisfied, +and that bread and sleep may be found together." + + Si quis invisum Cereri benignae + Me putat germen, vehementer errat; + Illa me in partem recipit libenter + Fertilis agri. + + Meque frumentumque simul per omnes + Consulens mundo Dea spargit oras; + Crescite, O! dixit, duo magna sustentaculu + vitae, + + Carpe, mortalis, mea dona laetus, + Carpe, nec plantas alias require, + Sed satur panis, satur et soporis, + Caetera sperue, + + He wildly errs who thinks I yield + Precedence in the well-cloth'd field, + Tho' mix'd with wheat I grow: + Indulgent Ceres knew my worth, + And to adorn the teeming earth, + She bade the Poppy blow. + + Nor vainly gay the sight to please, + But blest with pow'r mankind to ease, + The goddess saw me rise: + "Thrive with the life-supporting grain," + She cried, "the solace of the swain, + The cordial of his eyes. + + Seize, happy mortal, seize the good; + My hand supplies thy sleep and food, + And makes thee truly blest: + With plenteous meals enjoy the day, + In slumbers pass the night away, + And leave to fate the rest." C. B. + +Sleep, therefore, as the chief of all earthly blessings, is justly +appropriated to induustry and temperance; the refreshing rest, and the +peaceful night, are the portion only of him who lies down weary with +honest labour, and free from the fumes of indigested luxury; it is the +just doom of laziness and gluttony, to be inactive without ease, and +drowsy without tranquillity. + +Sleep has been often mentioned as the image of death[1]; "so like it," +says Sir Thomas Brown, "that I dare not trust it without my prayers:" +their resemblance is, indeed, apparent and striking; they both, when +they seize the body, leave the soul at liberty: and wise is he that +remembers of both, that they can be safe and happy only by virtue. + +[1] + Lovely sleep! thou beautiful image of terrible death, + Be thou my pillow-companion, my angel of rest! + Come, O sleep! for thine are the joys of living and dying: + Life without sorrow, and death with no anguish, no pain. + _From the German of Schmidt_ + + + + +No. 41. TUESDAY, MARCH 27, 1753. + + --_Si mutabile pectus + Est tibi, consiliis, non curribus, utere nostris; + Dum potes, et solidis etiamnum sedibus adstas, + Dumque male optatos nondum premis inscius axes._ OVID. Met. ii. 143. + + --Th' attempt forsake, + And not my chariot but my counsel take; + While yet securely on the earth you stand; + Nor touch the horses with too rash a hand. ADDISON. + +TO THE ADVENTURER. + +Sir, Fleet, March 24. + +I now send you the sequel of my story, which had not been so long +delayed, if I could have brought myself to imagine, that any real +impatience was felt for the fate of Misargyrus; who has travelled no +unbeaten track to misery, and consequently can present the reader only +with such incidents as occur in daily life. You have seen me, Sir, in +the zenith of my glory, not dispensing the kindly warmth of an +all-cheering sun: but, like another Phaeton, scorching and blasting +every thing round me. I shall proceed, therefore, to finish my career, +and pass as rapidly as possible through the remaining vicissitudes of my +life. + +When I first began to be in want of money, I made no doubt of an +immediate supply. The newspapers were perpetually offering directions to +men, who seemed to have no other business than to gather heaps of gold +for those who place their supreme felicity in scattering it. I posted +away, therefore, to one of these advertisers, who by his proposals +seemed to deal in thousands; and was not a little chagrined to find, +that this general benefactor would have nothing to do with any larger +sum than thirty pounds, nor would venture that without a joint note from +myself and a reputable housekeeper, or for a longer time than three +months. + +It was not yet so bad with me, as that I needed to solicit surety for +thirty pounds: yet partly from the greediness that extravagance always +produces, and partly from a desire of seeing the humour of a petty +usurer, a character of which I had hitherto lived in ignorance, I +condescended to listen to his terms. He proceeded to inform me of my +great felicity in not falling into the hands of an extortioner; and +assured me, that I should find him extremely moderate in his demands: he +was not, indeed, certain that he could furnish me with the whole sum, +for people were at this particular time extremely pressing and +importunate for money: yet, as I had the appearance of a gentleman, he +would try what he could do, and give me his answer in three days. + +At the expiration of the time, I called upon him again; and was again +informed of the great demand for money, and that, "money was money now:" +he then advised me to be punctual in my payment, as that might induce +him to befriend me hereafter; and delivered me the money, deducting at +the rate of five and thirty _per cent_. with another panegyrick upon his +own moderation. + +I will not tire you with the various practices of usurious oppression; +but cannot omit my transaction with Squeeze on Tower-hill, who, finding +me a young man of considerable expectations, employed an agent to +persuade me to borrow five hundred pounds, to be refunded by an annual +payment of twenty per cent_. during the joint lives of his daughter +Nancy Squeeze and myself. The negociator came prepared to enforce his +proposal with all his art; but, finding that I caught his offer with the +eagerness of necessity, he grew cold and languid; "he had mentioned it +out of kindness; he would try to serve me: Mr. Squeeze was an honest +man, but extremely cautious." In three days he came to tell me, that his +endeavours had been ineffectual, Mr. Squeeze having no good opinion of +my life; but that there was one expedient remaining: Mrs. Squeeze could +influence her husband, and her good will might be gained by a +compliment. I waited that afternoon on Mrs. Squeeze, and poured out +before her the flatteries which usually gain access to rank and beauty: +I did not then know, that there are places in which the only compliment +is a bribe. Having yet credit with a jeweller, I afterwards procured a +ring of thirty guineas, which I humbly presented, and was soon admitted +to a treaty with Mr. Squeeze. He appeared peevish and backward, and my +old friend whispered me, that he would never make a dry bargain: I +therefore invited him to a tavern. Nine times we met on the affair; nine +times I paid four pounds for the supper and claret; and nine guineas I +gave the agent for good offices. I then obtained the money, paying ten +_per cent_. advance; and at the tenth meeting gave another supper, and +disbursed fifteen pounds for the writings. + +Others who styled themselves brokers, would only trust their money upon +goods: that I might, therefore, try every art of expensive folly, I took +a house and furnished it. I amused myself with despoiling my moveables +of their glossy appearance, for fear of alarming the lender with +suspicions: and in this I succeeded so well, that he favoured me with +one hundred and sixty pounds upon that which was rated at seven hundred. +I then found that I was to maintain a guardian about me to prevent the +goods from being broken or removed. This was, indeed, an unexpected tax; +but it was too late to recede: and I comforted myself, that I might +prevent a creditor, of whom I had some apprehensions, from seizing, by +having a prior execution always in the house. + +By such means I had so embarrassed myself, that my whole attention was +engaged in contriving excuses, and raising small sums to quiet such as +words would no longer mollify. It cost me eighty pounds in presents to +Mr. Leech the attorney, for his forbearance of one hundred, which he +solicited me to take when I had no need. I was perpetually harassed with +importunate demands, and insulted by wretches, who a few months before +would not have dared to raise their eyes from the dust before me. I +lived in continual terrour, frighted by every noise at the door, and +terrified at the approach of every step quicker than common. I never +retired to rest without feeling the justness of the Spanish proverb, +"Let him who sleeps too much, borrow the pillow of a debtor:" my +solicitude and vexation kept me long waking; and when I had closed my +eyes, I was pursued or insulted by visionary bailiffs. + +When I reflected upon the meanness of the shifts I had reduced myself +to, I could not but curse the folly and extravagance that had +overwhelmed me in a sea of troubles, from which it was highly improbable +that I should ever emerge. I had some time lived in hopes of an estate, +at the death of my uncle; but he disappointed me by marrying his +housekeeper; and, catching an opportunity soon after of quarrelling with +me, for settling twenty pounds a year upon a girl whom I had seduced, +told me that he would take care to prevent his fortune from being +squandered upon prostitutes. + +Nothing now remained, but the chance of extricating myself by marriage; +a scheme which, I flattered myself, nothing but my present distress +would have made me think on with patience. I determined, therefore, to +look out for a tender novice, with a large fortune, at her own disposal; +and accordingly fixed my eyes upon Miss Biddy Simper. I had now paid her +six or seven visits; and so fully convinced her of my being a gentleman +and a rake, that I made no doubt that both her person and fortune would +be soon mine. + +At this critical time, Miss Gripe called upon me, in a chariot bought +with my money, and loaded with trinkets that I had, in my days of +affluence, lavished on her. Those days were now over; and there was +little hope that they would ever return. She was not able to withstand +the temptation of ten pounds that Talon the bailiff offered her, but +brought him into my apartment disguised in a livery; and taking my sword +to the window, under pretence of admiring the workmanship, beckoned him +to seize me. + +Delay would have been expensive without use, as the debt was too +considerable for payment or bail: I, therefore, suffered myself to be +immediately conducted to gaol. + + _Vestibulum ante ipsum, primisque in faucibus Orci, + Luctus et ultrices posuere cubilia curae: + Pallentesque habitant morbi, tristisque senectus, + Et metus, et malesuada fames, et turpis egestas._ VIRG. Aen. vi. 273. + + Just in the gate and in the jaws of hell, + Revengeful cares and sullen sorrows dwell; + And pale diseases, and repining age; + Want, fear, and famine's unresisted rage. DRYDEN. + +Confinement of any kind is dreadful; a prison is sometimes able to shock +those, who endure it in a good cause: let your imagination, therefore, +acquaint you with what I have not words to express, and conceive, if +possible, the horrours of imprisonment attended with reproach and +ignominy, of involuntary association with the refuse of mankind, with +wretches who were before too abandoned for society, but, being now freed +from shame or fear, are hourly improving their vices by consorting with +each other. + +There are, however, a few, whom, like myself, imprisonment has rather +mortified than hardened: with these only I converse; and of these you +may, perhaps, hereafter receive some account from + +Your humble servant, MISARGYRUS. + + + + +No. 45. TUESDAY, APRIL 10, 1753 + + _Nulla fides regni sociis, omnisque potestas + Impatiens consortis erit._--LUCAN. Lib. i. 92. + + No faith of partnership dominion owns: + Still discord hovers o'er divided thrones. + +It is well known, that many things appear plausible in speculation, +which can never be reduced to practice; and that of the numberless +projects that have flattered mankind with theoretical speciousness, few +have served any other purpose than to show the ingenuity of their +contrivers. A voyage to the moon, however romantick and absurd the +scheme may now appear, since the properties of air have been better +understood, seemed highly probable to many of the aspiring wits in the +last century, who began to dote upon their glossy plumes, and fluttered +with impatience for the hour of their departure: + + --_Pereunt vestigia mille + Ante fugam, absentemque ferit gravis ungula campum._ + + Hills, vales and floods appear already crost; + And, ere he starts, a thousand steps are lost. POPE. + +Among the fallacies which only experience can detect, there are some, of +which scarcely experience itself can destroy the influence; some which, +by a captivating show of indubitable certainty, are perpetually gaining +upon the human mind; and which, though every trial ends in +disappointment, obtain new credit as the sense of miscarriage wears +gradually away, persuade us to try again what we have tried already, and +expose us by the same failure to double vexation. + +Of this tempting, this delusive kind, is the expectation of great +performances by confederated strength. The speculatist, when he has +carefully observed how much may be performed by a single hand, +calculates by a very easy operation the force of thousands, and goes on +accumulating power till resistance vanishes before it; then rejoices in +the success of his new scheme, and wonders at the folly or idleness of +former ages, who have lived in want of what might so readily be +procured, and suffered themselves to be debarred from happiness by +obstacles which one united effort would have so easily surmounted. + +But this gigantick phantom of collective power vanishes at once into air +and emptiness, at the first attempt to put it into action. The different +apprehensions, the discordant passions, the jarring interests of men, +will scarcely permit that many should unite in one undertaking. + +Of a great and complicated design, some will never be brought to discern +the end; and of the several means by which it may be accomplished, the +choice will be a perpetual subject of debate, as every man is swayed in +his determination by his own knowledge or convenience. In a long series +of action some will languish with fatigue, and some be drawn off by +present gratifications; some will loiter because others labour, and some +will cease to labour because others loiter: and if once they come within +prospect of success and profit, some will be greedy and others envious; +some will undertake more than they can perform, to enlarge their claims +of advantage; some will perform less than they undertake, lest their +labours should chiefly turn to the benefit of others. + +The history of mankind informs us that a single power is very seldom +broken by a confederacy. States of different interests, and aspects +malevolent to each other, may be united for a time by common distress; +and in the ardour of self-preservation fall unanimously upon an enemy, +by whom they are all equally endangered. But if their first attack can +be withstood, time will never fail to dissolve their union: success and +miscarriage will be equally destructive: after the conquest of a +province, they will quarrel in the division; after the loss of a battle, +all will be endeavouring to secure themselves by abandoning the rest. + +From the impossibility of confining numbers to the constant and uniform +prosecution of a common interest, arises the difficulty of securing +subjects against the encroachment of governours. Power is always +gradually stealing away from the many to the few, because the few are +more vigilant and consistent; it still contracts to a smaller number, +till in time it centres in a single person. + +Thus all the forms of governments instituted among mankind, perpetually +tend towards monarchy; and power, however diffused through the whole +community, is, by negligence or corruption, commotion or distress, +reposed at last in the chief magistrate. + +"There never appear," says Swift, "more than five or six men of genius +in an age; but if they were united, the world could not stand before +them." It is happy, therefore, for mankind, that of this union there is +no probability. As men take in a wider compass of intellectual survey, +they are more likely to choose different objects of pursuit; as they see +more ways to the same end, they will be less easily persuaded to travel +together; as each is better qualified to form an independent scheme of +private greatness, he will reject with greater obstinacy the project of +another; as each is more able to distinguish himself as the head of a +party, he will less readily be made a follower or an associate. + +The reigning philosophy informs us, that the vast bodies which +constitute the universe, are regulated in their progress through the +ethereal spaces by the perpetual agency of contrary forces; by one of +which they are restrained from deserting their orbits, and losing +themselves in the immensity of heaven; and held off by the other from +rushing together, and clustering round their centre with everlasting +cohesion. + +The same contrariety of impulse may be perhaps discovered in the motions +of men: we are formed for society, not for combination; we are equally +unqualified to live in a close connexion with our fellow-beings, and in +total separation from them; we are attracted towards each other by +general sympathy, but kept back from contact by private interests. + +Some philosophers have been foolish enough to imagine, that improvements +might be made in the system of the universe, by a different arrangement +of the orbs of heaven; and politicians, equally ignorant and equally +presumptuous, may easily be led to suppose, that the happiness of our +world would be promoted by a different tendency of the human mind. It +appears, indeed, to a slight and superficial observer, that many things +impracticable in our present state, might be easily effected, if mankind +were better disposed to union and co-operation: but a little reflection +will discover, that if confederacies were easily formed, they would lose +their efficacy, since numbers would be opposed to numbers, and unanimity +to unanimity; and instead of the present petty competitions of +individuals or single families, multitudes would be supplanting +multitudes, and thousands plotting against thousands. + +There is no class of the human species, of which the union seems to have +been more expected, than of the learned: the rest of the world have +almost always agreed to shut scholars up together in colleges and +cloisters; surely not without hope, that they would look for that +happiness in concord, which they were debarred from finding in variety; +and that such conjunctions of intellect would recompense the munificence +of founders and patrons, by performances above the reach of any single +mind. + +But discord, who found means to roll her apple into the banqueting +chamber of the goddesses, has had the address to scatter her laurels in +the seminaries of learning. The friendship of students and of beauties +is for the most part equally sincere, and equally durable: as both +depend for happiness on the regard of others, on that of which the value +arises merely from comparison, they are both exposed to perpetual +jealousies, and both incessantly employed in schemes to intercept the +praises of each other. + +I am, however, far from intending to inculcate that this confinement of +the studious to studious companions, has been wholly without advantage +to the publick: neighbourhood, where it does not conciliate friendship, +incites competition; and he that would contentedly rest in a lower +degree of excellence, where he had no rival to dread, will be urged by +his impatience of inferiority to incessant endeavours after great +attainments. + +These stimulations of honest rivalry are, perhaps, the chief effects of +academies and societies; for whatever be the bulk of their joint +labours, every single piece is always the production of an individual, +that owes nothing to his colleagues but the contagion of diligence, a +resolution to write, because the rest are writing, and the scorn of +obscurity while the rest are illustrious[1]. + + +[1] It may not be uninteresting to place in immediate comparison with + this finished paper its first rough draught as given in Boswell, + vol. i. + + "_Confederacies difficult; why_. + + "Seldom in war a match for single persons--nor in peace; therefore + kings make themselves absolute. Confederacies in learning--every + great work the work of one. _Bruy_. Scholars friendship like + ladies. Scribebamus, &c. Mart. The apple of discord--the laurel of + discord--the poverty of criticism. Swift's opinion of the power of + six geniuses united. That union scarce possible. His remarks just; + --man a social, not steady nature. Drawn to man by words, repelled + by passions. Orb drawn by attraction, rep. [_repelled_] by + centrifugal. + + "Common danger unites by crushing other passions--but they return. + Equality hinders compliance. Superiority produces insolence and + envy. Too much regard in each to private interest;--too little. + + "The mischiefs of private and exclusive societies.--The fitness of + social attraction diffused through the whole. The mischiefs of too + partial love of our country. Contraction of moral duties. + [Greek: Oi philoi, ou philos]. + + "Every man moves upon his own centre, and therefore repels others + from too near a contact, though he may comply with some general + laws. Of confederacy with superiors every one knows the + inconvenience. With equals no authority;--every man his own + opinion--his own interest. + + "Man and wife hardly united;--scarce ever without children. + Computation, if two to one against two, how many against five? If + confederacies were easy--useless;--many oppresses many.--If possible + only to some, dangerous. _Principum amicitias_." + + + + +No. 50. SATURDAY, APRIL 28, 1753. + + _Quicunque turpi fraude semel innotuit, + Etiamsi verum dicit, amittit fidem._ PHAED. Lib. i. Fab. x. l. + + The wretch that often has deceiv'd, + Though truth he speaks, is ne'er believ'd. + +When Aristotle was once asked, what a man could gain by uttering +falsehoods? he replied, "Not to be credited when he shall tell the +truth." + +The character of a liar is at once so hateful and contemptible, that +even of those who have lost their virtue it might be expected that from +the violation of truth they should be restrained by their pride. Almost +every other vice that disgraces human nature, may be kept in countenance +by applause and association: the corrupter of virgin innocence sees +himself envied by the men, and at least not detested by the women; the +drunkard may easily unite with beings, devoted like himself to noisy +merriments or silent insensibility, who will celebrate his victories +over the novices of intemperance, boast themselves the companions of his +prowess, and tell with rapture of the multitudes whom unsuccessful +emulation has hurried to the grave; even the robber and the cut-throat +have their followers, who admire their address and intrepidity, their +stratagems of rapine, and their fidelity to the gang. + +The liar, and only the liar, is invariably and universally despised, +abandoned, and disowned: he has no domestick consolations, which he can +oppose to the censure of mankind; he can retire to no fraternity, where +his crimes may stand in the place of virtues; but is given up to the +hisses of the multitude, without friend and without apologist. It is the +peculiar condition of falsehood, to be equally detested by the good and +bad: "The devils," says Sir Thomas Brown, "do not tell lies to one +another; for truth is necessary to all societies: nor can the society of +hell subsist without it." + +It is natural to expect, that a crime thus generally detested should be +generally avoided; at least, that none should expose himself to unabated +and unpitied infamy, without an adequate temptation; and that to guilt +so easily detected, and so severely punished, an adequate temptation +would not readily be found. + +Yet so it is, that in defiance of censure and contempt, truth is +frequently violated; and scarcely the most vigilant and unremitted +circumspection will secure him that mixes with mankind, from being +hourly deceived by men of whom it can scarcely be imagined, that they +mean any injury to him or profit to themselves: even where the subject +of conversation could not have been expected to put the passions in +motion, or to have excited either hope or fear, or zeal or malignity, +sufficient to induce any man to put his reputation in hazard, however +little he might value it, or to overpower the love of truth, however +weak might be its influence. + +The casuists have very diligently distinguished lies into their several +classes, according to their various degrees of malignity: but they have, +I think, generally omitted that which is most common, and perhaps, not +least mischievous; which, since the moralists have not given it a name, +I shall distinguish as the _lie of vanity_. + +To vanity may justly be imputed most of the falsehoods which every man +perceives hourly playing upon his ear, and, perhaps, most of those that +are propagated with success. To the lie of commerce, and the lie of +malice, the motive is so apparent, that they are seldom negligently or +implicitly received; suspicion is always watchful over the practices of +interest; and whatever the hope of gain, or desire of mischief, can +prompt one man to assert, another is by reasons equally cogent incited +to refute. But vanity pleases herself with such slight gratifications, +and looks forward to pleasure so remotely consequential, that her +practices raise no alarm, and her stratagems are not easily discovered. + +Vanity is, indeed, often suffered to pass unpursued by suspicion, +because he that would watch her motions, can never be at rest: fraud and +malice are bounded in their influence; some opportunity of time and +place is necessary to their agency; but scarce any man is abstracted one +moment from his vanity; and he, to whom truth affords no gratifications, +is generally inclined to seek them in falsehoods. + +It is remarked by Sir Kenelm Digby, "that every man has a desire to +appear superior to others, though it were only in having seen what they +have not seen." Such an accidental advantage, since it neither implies +merit, nor confers dignity, one would think should not be desired so +much as to be counterfeited: yet even this vanity, trifling as it is, +produces innumerable narratives, all equally false; but more or less +credible in proportion to the skill or confidence of the relater. How +many may a man of diffusive conversation count among his acquaintances, +whose lives have been signalized by numberless escapes; who never cross +the river but in a storm, or take a journey into the country without +more adventures than befel the knights-errant of ancient times in +pathless forests or enchanted castles! How many must he know, to whom +portents and prodigies are of daily occurrence; and for whom nature is +hourly working wonders invisible to every other eye, only to supply them +with subjects of conversation. + +Others there are that amuse themselves with the dissemination of +falsehood, at greater hazard of detection and disgrace; men marked out +by some lucky planet for universal confidence and friendship, who have +been consulted in every difficulty, intrusted with every secret, and +summoned to every transaction: it is the supreme felicity of these men, +to stun all companies with noisy information; to still doubt, and +overbear opposition, with certain knowledge or authentick intelligence. +A liar of this kind, with a strong memory or brisk imagination, is often +the oracle of an obscure club, and, till time discovers his impostures, +dictates to his hearers with uncontrouled authority; for if a publick +question be started, he was present at the debate; if a new fashion be +mentioned, he was at court the first day of its appearance; if a new +performance of literature draws the attention of the publick, he has +patronized the author, and seen his work in manuscript; if a criminal of +eminence be condemned to die, he often predicted his fate, and +endeavoured his reformation: and who that lives at a distance from the +scene of action, will dare to contradict a man, who reports from his own +eyes and ears, and to whom all persons and affairs are thus intimately +known? + +This kind of falsehood is generally successful for a time, because it is +practised at first with timidity and caution: but the prosperity of the +liar is of short duration; the reception of one story is always an +incitement to the forgery of another less probable; and he goes on to +triumph over tacit credulity, till pride or reason rises up against him, +and his companions will no longer endure to see him wiser than +themselves. + +It is apparent, that the inventors of all these fictions intend some +exaltation of themselves, and are led off by the pursuit of honour from +their attendance upon truth: their narratives always imply some +consequence in favour of their courage, their sagacity, or their +activity, their familiarity with the learned, or their reception among +the great; they are always bribed by the present pleasure of seeing +themselves superior to those that surround them, and receiving the +homage of silent attention and envious admiration. + +But vanity is sometimes excited to fiction by less visible +gratifications: the present age abounds with a race of liars who are +content with the consciousness of falsehood, and whose pride is to +deceive others without any gain or glory to themselves. Of this tribe it +is the supreme pleasure to remark a lady in the playhouse or the park, +and to publish, under the character of a man suddenly enamoured, an +advertisement in the news of the next day, containing a minute +description of her person and her dress. From this artifice, however, no +other effect can be expected, than perturbations which the writer can +never see, and conjectures of which he never can be informed; some +mischief, however, he hopes he has done; and to have done mischief, is +of some importance. He sets his invention to work again, and produces a +narrative of a robbery or a murder, with all the circumstances of time +and place accurately adjusted. This is a jest of greater effect and +longer duration: if he fixes his scene at a proper distance, he may for +several days keep a wife in terrour for her husband, or a mother for her +son; and please himself with reflecting, that by his abilities and +address some addition is made to the miseries of life. + +There is, I think, an ancient law of Scotland, by which _leasing-making_ +was capitally punished. I am, indeed, far from desiring to increase in +this kingdom the number of executions; yet I cannot but think, that they +who destroy the confidence of society, weaken the credit of +intelligence, and interrupt the security of life; harass the delicate +with shame, and perplex the timorous with alarms; might very properly be +awakened to a sense of their crimes, by denunciations of a whipping-post +or pillory: since many are so insensible of right and wrong, that they +have no standard of action but the law; nor feel guilt, but as they +dread punishment. + + + + +No. 53. TUESDAY, MAY 8, 1753. + + _Quisque suos patimur manes_. VIRG. Aen. Lib. vi. 743. + + Each has his lot, and bears the fate he drew. + +Sir, Fleet, May 6. + +In consequence of my engagements, I address you once more from the +habitations of misery. In this place, from which business and pleasure +are equally excluded, and in which our only employment and diversion is +to hear the narratives of each other, I might much sooner have gathered +materials for a letter, had I not hoped to have been reminded of my +promise; but since I find myself placed in the regions of oblivion, +where I am no less neglected by you than by the rest of mankind, I +resolved no longer to wait for solicitation, but stole early this +evening from between gloomy sullenness and riotous merriment, to give +you an account of part of my companions. + +One of the most eminent members of our club is Mr. Edward Scamper, a man +of whose name the Olympick heroes would not have been ashamed. Ned was +born to a small estate, which he determined to improve; and therefore, +as soon as he became of age, mortgaged part of his land to buy a mare +and stallion, and bred horses for the course. He was at first very +successful, and gained several of the king's plates, as he is now every +day boasting, at the expense of very little more than ten times their +value. At last, however, he discovered, that victory brought him more +honour than profit: resolving, therefore, to be rich as well as +illustrious, he replenished his pockets by another mortgage, became on a +sudden a daring bettor, and resolving not to trust a jockey with his +fortune, rode his horse himself, distanced two of his competitors the +first heat, and at last won the race by forcing his horse on a descent +to full speed at the hazard of his neck. His estate was thus repaired, +and some friends that had no souls advised him to give over; but Ned now +knew the way to riches, and therefore without caution increased his +expenses. From this hour he talked and dreamed of nothing but a +horse-race; and rising soon to the summit of equestrian reputation, he +was constantly expected on every course, divided all his time between +lords and jockeys, and, as the unexperienced regulated their bets by his +example, gained a great deal of money by laying openly on one horse and +secretly on the other. Ned was now so sure of growing rich, that he +involved his estate in a third mortgage, borrowed money of all his +friends, and risked his whole fortune upon Bay Lincoln. He mounted with +beating heart, started fair, and won the first heat; but in the second, +as he was pushing against the foremost of his rivals, his girth broke, +his shoulder was dislocated, and before he was dismissed by the surgeon, +two bailiffs fastened upon him, and he saw Newmarket no more. His daily +amusement for four years has been to blow the signal for starting, to +make imaginary matches, to repeat the pedigree of Bay Lincoln, and to +form resolutions against trusting another groom with the choice of his +girth. + +The next in seniority is Mr. Timothy Snug, a man of deep contrivance and +impenetrable secrecy. His father died with the reputation of more wealth +than he possessed: Tim, therefore, entered the world with a reputed +fortune of ten thousand pounds. Of this he very well knew that eight +thousand was imaginary: but being a man of refined policy, and knowing +how much honour is annexed to riches, he resolved never to detect his +own poverty; but furnished his house with elegance, scattered his money +with profusion, encouraged every scheme of costly pleasure, spoke of +petty losses with negligence, and on the day before an execution entered +his doors, had proclaimed at a public table his resolution to be jolted +no longer in a hackney coach. + +Another of my companions is the magnanimous Jack Scatter, the son of a +country gentleman, who, having no other care than to leave him rich, +considered that literature could not be had without expense; masters +would not teach for nothing; and when a book was bought and read, it +would sell for little. Jack was, therefore, taught to read and write by +the butler; and when this acquisition was made, was left to pass his +days in the kitchen and the stable, where he heard no crime censured but +covetousness and distrust of poor honest servants, and where all the +praise was bestowed on good housekeeping, and a free heart. At the death +of his father, Jack set himself to retrieve the honour of his family: he +abandoned his cellar to the butler, ordered his groom to provide hay and +corn at discretion, took his housekeeper's word for the expenses of the +kitchen, allowed all his servants to do their work by deputies, +permitted his domesticks to keep his house open to their relations and +acquaintance, and in ten years was conveyed hither, without having +purchased by the loss of his patrimony either honour or pleasure, or +obtained any other gratification than that of having corrupted the +neighbouring villagers by luxury and idleness. + +Dick Serge was a draper in Cornhill, and passed eight years in +prosperous diligence, without any care but to keep his books, or any +ambition but to be in time an alderman: but then, by some unaccountable +revolution in his understanding, he became enamoured of wit and humour, +despised the conversation of pedlars and stock-jobbers, and rambled +every night to the regions of gaiety, in quest of company suited to his +taste. The wits at first flocked about him for sport, and afterwards for +interest; some found their way into his books, and some into his +pockets; the man of adventure was equipped from his shop for the +pursuit, of a fortune; and he had sometimes the honour to have his +security accepted when his friends were in distress. Elated with these +associations, he soon learned to neglect his shop; and having drawn his +money out of the funds, to avoid the necessity of teasing men of honour +for trifling debts, he has been forced at last to retire hither, till +his friends can procure him a post at court. + +Another that joins in the same mess is Bob Cornice, whose life has been +spent in fitting up a house. About ten years ago Bob purchased the +country habitation of a bankrupt: the mere shell of a building Bob holds +no great matter; the inside is the test of elegance. Of this house he +was no sooner master than he summoned twenty workmen to his assistance, +tore up the floors and laid them anew, stripped off the wainscot, drew +the windows from their frames, altered the disposition of doors and +fire-places, and cast the whole fabrick into a new form: his next care +was to have his ceilings painted, his pannels gilt, and his +chimney-pieces carved: every thing was executed by the ablest hands: +Bob's business was to follow the workmen with a microscope, and call +upon them to retouch their performances, and heighten excellence to +perfection. + +The reputation of his house now brings round him a daily confluence of +visitants, and every one tells him of some elegance which he has +hitherto overlooked, some convenience not yet procured, or some new mode +in ornament or furniture. Bob, who had no wish but to be admired, nor +any guide but the fashion, thought every thing beautiful in proportion +as it was new, and considered his work as unfinished, while any observer +could suggest an addition; some alteration was therefore every day made, +without any other motive than the charms of novelty. A traveller at last +suggested to him the convenience of a grotto: Bob immediately ordered +the mount of his garden to be excavated: and having laid out a large sum +in shells and minerals, was busy in regulating the disposition of the +colours and lustres, when two gentlemen, who had asked permission to see +his gardens, presented him a writ, and led him off to less elegant +apartments. + +I know not, Sir, whether among this fraternity of sorrow you will think +any much to be pitied; nor indeed do many of them appear to solicit +compassion, for they generally applaud their own conduct, and despise +those whom want of taste or spirit suffers to grow rich. It were happy +if the prisons of the kingdom were filled only with characters like +these, men whom prosperity could not make useful, and whom ruin cannot +make wise: but there are among us many who raise different sensations, +many that owe their present misery to the seductions of treachery, the +strokes of casualty, or the tenderness of pity; many whose sufferings +disgrace society, and whose virtues would adorn it: of these, when +familiarity shall have enabled me to recount their stories without +horrour, you may expect another narrative from + +Sir, + +Your most humble servant, + +MISARGYRUS. + + + + +No. 58. SATURDAY, MAY 25, 1753. + + _Damnant quod non intelligunt_. CIC. + + They condemn what they do not understand. + +Euripides, having presented Socrates with the writings of Heraclitus[1], +a philosopher famed for involution and obscurity, inquired afterwards +his opinion of their merit. "What I understand," said Socrates, "I find +to be excellent; and, therefore, believe that to be of equal value which +I cannot understand." + +The reflection of every man who reads this passage will suggest to him +the difference between the practice of Socrates, and that of modern +criticks: Socrates, who had, by long observation upon himself and +others, discovered the weakness of the strongest, and the dimness of the +most enlightened intellect, was afraid to decide hastily in his own +favour, or to conclude that an author had written without meaning, +because he could not immediately catch his ideas; he knew that the +faults of books are often more justly imputable to the reader, who +sometimes wants attention, and sometimes penetration; whose +understanding is often obstructed by prejudice, and often dissipated by +remissness; who comes sometimes to a new study, unfurnished with +knowledge previously necessary; and finds difficulties insuperable, for +want of ardour sufficient to encounter them. + +Obscurity and clearness are relative terms: to some readers scarce any +book is easy, to others not many are difficult: and surely they, whom +neither any exuberant praise bestowed by others, nor any eminent +conquests over stubborn problems, have entitled to exalt themselves +above the common orders of mankind, might condescend to imitate the +candour of Socrates; and where they find incontestable proofs of +superior genius, be content to think that there is justness in the +connexion which they cannot trace, and cogency in the reasoning which +they cannot comprehend. + +This diffidence is never more reasonable than in the perusal of the +authors of antiquity; of those whose works have been the delight of +ages, and transmitted as the great inheritance of mankind from one +generation to another: surely, no man can, without the utmost arrogance, +imagine that he brings any superiority of understanding to the perusal +of these books which have been preserved in the devastation of cities, +and snatched up from the wreck of nations; which those who fled before +barbarians have been careful to carry off in the hurry of migration, and +of which barbarians have repented the destruction. If in books thus made +venerable by the uniform attestation of successive ages, any passages +shall appear unworthy of that praise which they have formerly received, +let us not immediately determine, that they owed their reputation to +dulness or bigotry; but suspect at least that our ancestors had some +reasons for their opinions, and that our ignorance of those reasons +makes us differ from them. + +It often happens that an author's reputation is endangered in succeeding +times, by that which raised the loudest applause among his +contemporaries: nothing is read with greater pleasure than allusions to +recent facts, reigning opinions, or present controversies; but when +facts are forgotten, and controversies extinguished, these favourite +touches lose all their graces; and the author in his descent to +posterity must be left to the mercy of chance, without any power of +ascertaining the memory of those things, to which he owed his luckiest +thoughts and his kindest reception. + +On such occasions, every reader should remember the diffidence of +Socrates, and repair by his candour the injuries of time: he should +impute the seeming defects of his author to some chasm of intelligence, +and suppose that the sense which is now weak was once forcible, and the +expression which is now dubious formerly determinate. + +How much the mutilation of ancient history has taken away from the +beauty of poetical performances, may be conjectured from the light which +a lucky commentator sometimes effuses, by the recovery of an incident +that had been long forgotten: thus, in the third book of Horace, Juno's +denunciations against, those that should presume to raise again the +walls of Troy, could for many ages please only by splendid images and +swelling language, of which no man discovered the use or propriety, till +Le Fevre, by showing on what occasion the Ode was written, changed +wonder to rational delight. Many passages yet undoubtedly remain in the +same author, which an exacter knowledge of the incidents of his time +would clear from objections. Among these I have always numbered the +following lines: + + _Aurum per medios ire satellites, + Et perrumpere amat saxa, potentius + Ictu fulmineo. Concidit auguris + Argivi domus ob lucrum + Demersa exitio. Diffidit urbium + Portas vir Macedo, et subruit aemulos + Regis muneribus_: Munera navium + Saevos illaqueant duces. HOR. Lib. iii. Ode xvi. 9. + + Stronger than thunder's winged force, + All-powerful gold can spread its course, + Thro' watchful guards its passage make, + And loves thro' solid walls to break: + From gold the overwhelming woes + That crush'd the Grecian augur rose: + Philip with gold thro' cities broke, + And rival monarchs felt his yoke; + _Captains of ships to gold are slaves, + Tho' fierce as their own winds and waves._ FRANCIS. + +The close of this passage, by which every reader is now disappointed and +offended, was probably the delight of the Roman Court: it cannot be +imagined, that Horace, after having given to gold the force of thunder, +and told of its power to storm cities and to conquer kings, would have +concluded his account of its efficacy with its influence over naval +commanders, had he not alluded to some fact then current in the mouths +of men, and therefore more interesting for a time than the conquests of +Philip. Of the like kind may be reckoned another stanza in the same +book: + + --_Jussa coram non sine conscio + Surgit marito, seu vocat_ institor, + _Seu_ navis Hispanae magister, + _Dedecorum pretiosus emptor_. HOR. Lib. iii. Ode. vi. 29. + + The conscious husband bids her rise, + _When some rich factor courts her charms_, + Who calls the wanton to his arms, + And, prodigal of wealth and fame, + Profusely buys the costly shame. FRANCIS. + +He has little knowledge of Horace who imagines that the _factor_, or the +_Spanish merchant_, are mentioned by chance: there was undoubtedly some +popular story of an intrigue, which those names recalled to the memory +of his reader. + +The flame of his genius in other parts, though somewhat dimmed by time, +is not totally eclipsed; his address and judgment yet appear, though +much of the spirit and vigour of his sentiment is lost: this has +happened in the twentieth Ode of the first book: + + _Vile potabis modicis Sabinum + Cantharis, Graeca quod ego ipse testa + Conditum levi, datus in theatro + Cum tibi plausus, + Care Maecenas eques: ut paterni + Fluminis ripae, simul et jocosa + Redderet laudes tibi Vaticani + Montis imago._ + + A poet's beverage humbly cheap, + (Should great Maecenas be my guest,) + The vintage of the Sabine grape, + But yet in sober cups shall crown the feast: + 'Twas rack'd into a Grecian cask, + Its rougher juice to melt away; + I seal'd it too--a pleasing task! + With annual joy to mark the glorious day, + When in applausive shouts thy name + Spread from the theatre around, + Floating on thy own Tiber's stream, + And Echo, playful nymph, return'd the sound. FRANCIS. + +We here easily remark the intertexture of a happy compliment with an +humble invitation; but certainly are less delighted than those, to whom +the mention of the applause bestowed upon Maecenas, gave occasion to +recount the actions or words that produced it. + +Two lines which have exercised the ingenuity of modern criticks, may, I +think, be reconciled to the judgment, by an easy supposition: Horace +thus addresses Agrippa: + +_Scriberis Vario fortis, et hostium +Victor_, Maeonii carminis alite. HOR. Lib. i. Ode vi. 1. + +Varius, a _swan of Homer's wing_, +Shall brave Agrippa's conquests sing. + +That Varius should be called "A bird of Homeric song," appears so harsh +to modern ears, that an emendation of the text has been proposed: but +surely the learning of the ancients had been long ago obliterated, had +every man thought himself at liberty to corrupt the lines which he did +not understand. If we imagine that Varius had been by any of his +contemporaries celebrated under the appellation of _Musarum ales_, "the +swan of the Muses," the language of Horace becomes graceful and +familiar; and that such a compliment was at least possible, we know from +the transformation feigned by Horace of himself. + +The most elegant compliment that was paid to Addison, is of this obscure +and perishable kind; + + When panting Virtue her last efforts made, + You brought your Clio to the virgin's aid. + +These lines must please as long as they are understood; but can be +understood only by those that have observed Addison's signatures in the +Spectator. + +The nicety of these minute allusions I shall exemplify by another +instance, which I take this occasion to mention, because, as I am told, +the commentators have omitted it. Tibullus addressed Cynthia in this +manner: + + _Te spectem, suprema mihi cum venerit hora, + Te teneam moriens deficiente manu._ Lib. i. El. i. 73. + + Before my closing eyes dear Cynthia stand, + Held weakly by my fainting trembling hand. + +To these lines Ovid thus refers in his Elegy on the death of Tibullus: + + Cynthia discedens, Felicius, inquit, amata + Sum tibi; vixisti dum tuus ignis eram. + Cui Nemesis, quid, ait, tibi sint mea damna dolori? + Me tenuit moriens deficiente manu. Am. Lib. in. El. ix. 56. + + Blest was my reign, retiring Cynthia cry'd; + Not till he left my breast, Tibullus dy'd. + Forbear, said Nemesis, my loss to moan, + The _fainting trembling hand_ was mine alone. + +The beauty of this passage, which consists in the appropriation made by +Nemesis of the line originally directed to Cynthia, had been wholly +imperceptible to succeeding ages, had chance, which has destroyed so +many greater volumes, deprived us likewise of the poems of Tibullus. + +[1] The obscurity of this philosopher's style is complained of by + Aristotle in his treatise on Rhetoric, iii. 5. We make the reference + with the view of recommending to attention the whole of that book, + which is interspersed with the most acute remarks, and with rules of + criticism founded deeply on the workings of the human mind. It is + undervalued only by those who have not scholarship to read it, and + surely merits this slight tribute of admiration from an Editor of + Johnson's works, with whom a Translation of the Rhetoric was long a + favourite project. + + + + +No. 62. SATURDAY, JUNE 9, 1753. + + _O fortuna viris, invida fortibus + Quam non aequa bonis praemia dividis._ SENECA. + + Capricious Fortune ever joys, + With partial hand to deal the prize, + To crush the brave and cheat the wise. + +TO THE ADVENTURER. + +Fleet, June 6. + +SIR, + +To the account of such of my companions as are imprisoned without being +miserable, or are miserable without any claim to compassion, I promised +to add the histories of those, whose virtue has made them unhappy or +whose misfortunes are at least without a crime. That this catalogue +should be very numerous, neither you nor your readers ought to expect: +_rari quippe boni_; "the good are few." Virtue is uncommon in all the +classes of humanity; and I suppose it will scarcely be imagined more +frequent in a prison than in other places. + +Yet in these gloomy regions is to be found the tenderness, the +generosity, the philanthropy of Serenus, who might have lived in +competence and ease, if he could have looked without emotion on the +miseries of another. Serenus was one of those exalted minds, whom +knowledge and sagacity could not make suspicious; who poured out his +soul in boundless intimacy, and thought community of possessions the law +of friendship. The friend of Serenus was arrested for debt, and after +many endeavours to soften his creditor, sent his wife to solicit that +assistance which never was refused. The tears and importunity of female +distress were more than was necessary to move the heart of Serenus; he +hasted immediately away, and conferring a long time with his friend, +found him confident that if the present pressure was taken off, he +should soon be able to reestablish his affairs. Serenus, accustomed to +believe, and afraid to aggravate distress, did not attempt to detect the +fallacies of hope, nor reflect that every man overwhelmed with calamity +believes, that if that was removed he shall immediately be happy: he, +therefore, with little hesitation offered himself as surety. + +In the first raptures of escape all was joy, gratitude, and confidence: +the friend of Serenus displayed his prospects, and counted over the sums +of which he should infallibly be master before the day of payment. +Serenus in a short time began to find his danger, but could not prevail +with himself to repent of beneficence; and therefore suffered himself +still to be amused with projects which he durst not consider, for fear +of finding them impracticable. The debtor, after he had tried every +method of raising money which art or indigence could prompt, wanted +either fidelity or resolution to surrender himself to prison, and left +Serenus to take his place. + +Serenus has often proposed to the creditor, to pay him whatever he shall +appear to have lost by the flight of his friend: but however reasonable +this proposal may be thought, avarice and brutality have been hitherto +inexorable, and Serenus still continues to languish in prison. In this +place, however, where want makes almost every man selfish, or +desperation gloomy, it is the good fortune of Serenus not to live +without a friend: he passes most of his hours in the conversation of +Candidus, a man whom the same virtuous ductility has, with some +difference of circumstances, made equally unhappy. Candidus, when he was +young, helpless, and ignorant, found a patron that educated, protected, +and supported him; his patron being more vigilant for others than +himself, left at his death an only son, destitute and friendless. +Candidus was eager to repay the benefits he had received; and having +maintained the youth for a few years at his own house, afterwards placed +him with a merchant of eminence, and gave bonds to a great value as a +security for his conduct. + +The young man, removed too early from the only eye of which he dreaded +the observation, and deprived of the only instruction which he heard +with reverence, soon learned to consider virtue as restraint, and +restraint as oppression: and to look with a longing eye at every expense +to which he could not reach, and every pleasure which he could not +partake: by degrees he deviated from his first regularity, and unhappily +mingling among young men busy in dissipating the gains of their fathers' +industry, he forgot the precepts of Candidus, spent the evening in +parties of pleasure, and the morning in expedients to support his riots. +He was, however, dexterous and active in business: and his master, being +secured against any consequences of dishonesty, was very little +solicitous to inspect his manners, or to inquire how he passed those +hours, which were not immediately devoted to the business of his +profession: when he was informed of the young man's extravagance or +debauchery, "let his bondsman look to that," said he, "I have taken care +of myself." + +Thus the unhappy spendthrift proceeded from folly to folly, and from +vice to vice, with the connivance, if not the encouragement, of his +master; till in the heat of a nocturnal revel he committed such +violences in the street as drew upon him a criminal prosecution. Guilty +and unexperienced, he knew not what course to take; to confess his crime +to Candidus, and solicit his interposition, was little less dreadful +than to stand before the frown of a court of justice. Having, therefore, +passed the day with anguish in his heart and distraction in his looks, +he seized at night a very large sum of money in the compting-house, and +setting out he knew not whither, was heard of no more. + +The consequence of his flight was the ruin of Candidus; ruin surely +undeserved and irreproachable, and such as the laws of a just government +ought either to prevent or repair: nothing is more inequitable than that +one man should suffer for the crimes of another, for crimes which he +neither prompted nor permitted, which he could neither foresee nor +prevent. When we consider the weakness of human resolutions and the +inconsistency of human conduct, it must appear absurd that one man shall +engage for another, that he will not change his opinions or alter his +conduct. + +It is, I think, worthy of consideration, whether, since no wager is +binding without a possibility of loss on each side, it is not equally +reasonable, that no contract should be valid without reciprocal +stipulations; but in this case, and others of the same kind, what is +stipulated on his side to whom the bond is given? he takes advantage of +the security, neglects his affairs, omits his duty, suffers timorous +wickedness to grow daring by degrees, permits appetite to call for new +gratifications, and, perhaps, secretly longs for the time in which he +shall have power to seize the forfeiture; and if virtue or gratitude +should prove too strong for temptation, and a young man persist in +honesty, however instigated by his passions, what can secure him at last +against a false accusation? I for my part always shall suspect, that he +who can by such methods secure his property, will go one step further to +increase it; nor can I think that man safely trusted with the means of +mischief, who, by his desire to have them in his hands, gives an evident +proof how much less he values his neighbour's happiness than his own. + +Another of our companions is Lentulus, a man whose dignity of birth was +very ill supported by his fortune. As some of the first offices in the +kingdom were filled by his relations, he was early invited to court, and +encouraged by caresses and promises to attendance and solicitation; a +constant appearance in splendid company necessarily required +magnificence of dress; and a frequent participation of fashionable +amusements forced him into expense: but these measures were requisite to +his success; since every body knows, that to be lost to sight is to be +lost to remembrance, and that he who desires to fill a vacancy, must be +always at hand, lest some man of greater vigilance should step in before +him. + +By this course of life his little fortune was every day made less: but +he received so many distinctions in publick, and was known to resort so +familiarly to the houses of the great, that every man looked on his +preferment as certain, and believed that its value would compensate for +its slowness: he, therefore, found no difficulty in obtaining credit for +all that his rank or his vanity made necessary: and, as ready payment +was not expected, the bills were proportionably enlarged, and the value +of the hazard or delay was adjusted solely by the equity of the +creditor. At length death deprived Lentulus of one of his patrons, and a +revolution in the ministry of another; so that all his prospects +vanished at once, and those that had before encouraged his expenses, +began to perceive that their money was in danger; there was now no other +contention but who should first seize upon his person, and, by forcing +immediate payment, deliver him up naked to the vengeance of the rest. + +In pursuance of this scheme, one of them invited him to a tavern, and +procured him to be arrested at the door; but Lentulus, instead of +endeavouring secretly to pacify him by payment, gave notice to the rest, +and offered to divide amongst them the remnant of his fortune: they +feasted six hours at his expense, to deliberate on his proposal; and at +last determined, that as he could not offer more than five shillings in +the pound, it would be more prudent to keep him in prison, till he could +procure from his relations the payment of his debts. + +Lentulus is not the only man confined within these walls, on the same +account: the like procedure, upon the like motives, is common among men +whom yet the law allows to partake the use of fire and water with the +compassionate and the just; who frequent the assemblies of commerce in +open day, and talk with detestation and contempt of highwaymen or +housebreakers: but, surely, that man must be confessedly robbed, who is +compelled, by whatever means, to pay the debts which he does not owe: +nor can I look with equal hatred upon him, who, at the hazard of his +life, holds out his pistol and demands my purse, as on him who plunders +under shelter of the law, and by detaining my son or my friend in +prison, extorts from me the price of their liberty. No man can be more +an enemy to society than he, by whose machinations our virtues are +turned to our disadvantage; he is less destructive to mankind that +plunders cowardice, than he that preys upon compassion. + +I believe, Mr. Adventurer, you will readily confess, that though not one +of these, if tried before a commercial judicature, can be wholly +acquitted from imprudence or temerity; yet that, in the eye of all who +can consider virtue as distinct from wealth, the fault of two of them, +at least, is outweighed by the merit; and that of the third is so much +extenuated by the circumstances of his life, as not to deserve a +perpetual prison: yet must these, with multitudes equally blameless, +languish in confinement, till malevolence shall relent, or the law be +changed. + +I am, Sir, + +Your humble servant, MISARGYRUS. + + + + +No. 67. TUESDAY, JUNE 26, 1753. + + _Inventas--vitam excolucre per artes_. VIRG. Aen. vi. 663. + + They polish life by useful arts. + +That familiarity produces neglect, has been long observed. The effect of +all external objects, however great or splendid, ceases with their +novelty; the courtier stands without emotion in the royal presence; the +rustick tramples under his foot the beauties of the spring with little +attention to their colours or their fragrance; and the inhabitant of the +coast darts his eye upon the immense diffusion of waters, without awe, +wonder, or terrour. + +Those who have past much of their lives in this great city, look upon +its opulence and its multitudes, its extent and variety, with cold +indifference; but an inhabitant of the remoter parts of the kingdom is +immediately distinguished by a kind of dissipated curiosity, a busy +endeavour to divide his attention amongst a thousand objects, and a wild +confusion of astonishment and alarm. + +The attention of a new comer is generally first struck by the +multiplicity of cries that stun him in the streets, and the variety of +merchandize and manufactures which the shopkeepers expose on every hand; +and he is apt, by unwary bursts of admiration, to excite the merriment +and contempt of those who mistake the use of their eyes for effects of +their understanding, and confound accidental knowledge with just +reasoning. + +But, surely, these are subjects on which any man may without reproach +employ his meditations: the innumerable occupations, among which the +thousands that swarm in the streets of London, are distributed, may +furnish employment to minds of every cast, and capacities of every +degree. He that contemplates the extent of this wonderful city, finds it +difficult to conceive, by what method plenty is maintained in our +markets, and how the inhabitants are regularly supplied with the +necessaries of life; but when he examines the shops and warehouses, sees +the immense stores of every kind of merchandize piled up for sale, and +runs over all the manufactures of art and products of nature, which are +every where attracting his eye and soliciting his purse, he will be +inclined to conclude, that such quantities cannot easily be exhausted, +and that part of mankind must soon stand still for want of employment, +till the wares already provided shall be worn out and destroyed. + +As Socrates was passing through the fair at Athens, and casting his eyes +over the shops and customers, "how many things are here," says he, "that +I do not want!" The same sentiment is every moment rising in the mind of +him that walks the streets of London, however inferior in philosophy to +Socrates: he beholds a thousand shops crowded with goods, of which he +can scarcely tell the use, and which, therefore, he is apt to consider +as of no value: and indeed, many of the arts by which families are +supported, and wealth is heaped together, are of that minute and +superfluous kind, which nothing but experience could evince possible to +be prosecuted with advantage, and which, as the world might easily want, +it could scarcely be expected to encourage. + +But so it is, that custom, curiosity, or wantonness, supplies every art +with patrons, and finds purchasers for every manufacture; the world is +so adjusted, that not only bread, but riches may be obtained without +great abilities or arduous performances: the most unskilful hand and +unenlightened mind have sufficient incitements to industry; for he that +is resolutely busy, can scarcely be in want. There is, indeed, no +employment, however despicable, from which a man may not promise himself +more than competence, when he sees thousands and myriads raised to +dignity, by no other merit than that of contributing to supply their +neighbours with the means of sucking smoke through a tube of clay; and +others raising contributions upon those, whose elegance disdains the +grossness of smoky luxury, by grinding the same materials into a. powder +that may at once gratify and impair the smell. + +Not only by these popular and modish trifles, but by a thousand unheeded +and evanescent kinds of business, are the multitudes of this city +preserved from idleness, and consequently from want. In the endless +variety of tastes and circumstances that diversify mankind, nothing is +so superfluous, but that some one desires it: or so common, but that +some one is compelled to buy it. As nothing is useless but because it is +in improper hands, what is thrown away by one is gathered up by another; +and the refuse of part of mankind furnishes a subordinate class with the +materials necessary to their support. + +When I look round upon those who are thus variously exerting their +qualifications, I cannot but admire the secret concatenation of society +that links together the great and the mean, the illustrious and the +obscure; and consider with benevolent satisfaction, that no man, unless +his body or mind be totally disabled, has need to suffer the +mortification of seeing himself useless or burthensome to the community: +he that will diligently labour, in whatever occupation, will deserve the +sustenance which he obtains, and the protection which he enjoys; and may +lie down every night with the pleasing consciousness of having +contributed something to the happiness of life. + +Contempt and admiration are equally incident to narrow minds: he whose +comprehension can take in the whole subordination of mankind, and whose +perspicacity can pierce to the real state of things through the thin +veils of fortune or of fashion, will discover meanness in the highest +stations, and dignity in the meanest; and find that no man can become +venerable but by virtue, or contemptible but by wickedness. + +In the midst of this universal hurry, no man ought to be so little +influenced by example, or so void of honest emulation, as to stand a +lazy spectator of incessant labour; or please himself with the mean +happiness of a drone, while the active swarms are buzzing about him: no +man is without some quality, by the due application of which he might +deserve well of the world; and whoever he be that has but little in his +power, should be in haste to do that little, lest he be confounded with +him that can do nothing. + +By this general concurrence of endeavours, arts of every kind have been +so long cultivated, that all the wants of man may be immediately +supplied; idleness can scarcely form a wish which she may not gratify by +the toil of others, or curiosity dream of a toy, which the shops are not +ready to afford her. + +Happiness is enjoyed only in proportion as it is known; and such is the +state or folly of man, that it is known only by experience of its +contrary: we who have long lived amidst the conveniencies of a town +immensely populous, have scarce an idea of a place where desire cannot +be gratified by money. In order to have a just sense of this artificial +plenty, it is necessary to have passed some time in a distant colony, or +those parts of our island which are thinly inhabited: he that has once +known how many trades every man in such situations is compelled to +exercise, with how much labour the products of nature must be +accommodated to human use, how long the loss or defect of any common +utensil must be endured, or by what awkward expedients it must be +supplied, how far men may wander with money in their hands before any +can sell them what they wish to buy, will know how to rate at its proper +value the plenty and ease of a great city. + +But that the happiness of man may still remain imperfect, as wants in +this place are easily supplied, new wants likewise are easily created; +every man, in surveying the shops of London, sees numberless instruments +and conveniencies, of which, while he did not know them, he never felt +the need; and yet, when use has made them familiar, wonders how life +could be supported without them. Thus it comes to pass, that our desires +always increase with our possessions; the knowledge that something +remains yet unenjoyed, impairs our enjoyment of the good before us. + +They who have been accustomed to the refinements of science, and +multiplications of contrivance, soon lose their confidence in the +unassisted powers of nature, forget the paucity of our real necessities, +and overlook the easy methods by which they may be supplied. It were a +speculation worthy of a philosophical mind, to examine how much is taken +away from our native abilities, as well as added to them, by artificial +expedients. We are so accustomed to give and receive assistance, that +each of us singly can do little for himself; and there is scarce any one +among us, however contracted may be his form of life, who does not enjoy +the labour of a thousand artists. + +But a survey of the various nations that inhabit the earth will inform +us, that life may be supported with less assistance; and that the +dexterity, which practice enforced by necessity produces, is able to +effect much by very scanty means. The nations of Mexico and Peru erected +cities and temples without the use of iron; and at this day the rude +Indian supplies himself with all the necessaries of life: sent like the +rest of mankind naked into the world, as soon as his parents have nursed +him up to strength, he is to provide by his own labour for his own +support. His first care is to find a sharp flint among the rocks; with +this he undertakes to fell the trees of the forest; he shapes his bow, +heads his arrows, builds his cottage, and hollows his canoe, and from +that time lives in a state of plenty and prosperity; he is sheltered +from the storms, he is fortified against beasts of prey, he is enabled +to pursue the fish of the sea, and the deer of the mountains; and as he +does not know, does not envy the happiness of polished nations, where +gold can supply the want of fortitude and skill, and he whose laborious +ancestors have made him rich, may lie stretched upon a couch, and see +all the treasures of all the elements poured down before him. + +This picture of a savage life if it shows how much individuals may +perform, shows likewise how much society is to be desired. Though the +perseverance and address of the Indian excite our admiration, they +nevertheless cannot procure him the conveniencies which are enjoyed by +the vagrant beggar of a civilized country: he hunts like a wild beast to +satisfy his hunger; and when he lies down to rest after a successful +chase, cannot pronounce himself secure against the danger of perishing +in a few days: he is, perhaps, content with his condition, because he +knows not that a better is attainable by man; as he that is born blind +does not long for the perception of light, because he cannot conceive +the advantages which light would afford him; but hunger, wounds, and +weariness, are real evils, though he believes them equally incident to +all his fellow-creatures; and when a tempest compels him to lie starving +in his hut, he cannot justly be concluded equally happy with those whom +art has exempted from the power of chance, and who make the foregoing +year provide for the following. + +To receive and to communicate assistance, constitutes the happiness of +human life: man may, indeed, preserve his existence in solitude, but can +enjoy it only in society; the greatest understanding of an individual, +doomed to procure food and clothing for himself, will barely supply him +with expedients to keep off death from day to day; but as one of a large +community performing only his share of the common business, he gains +leisure for intellectual pleasures, and enjoys the happiness of reason +and reflection. + + + + +No. 69. TUESDAY, JULY 3, 1753. + + _Fere libenter homines id quod volunt credunt._ Caesar. + + Men willingly believe what they wish to be true. + +Tully has long ago observed, that no man, however weakened by long life, +is so conscious of his own decrepitude, as not to imagine that he may +yet hold his station in the world for another year. + +Of the truth of this remark every day furnishes new confirmation: there +is no time of life, in which men for the most part seem less to expect +the stroke of death, than when every other eye sees it impending; or are +more busy in providing for another year, than when it is plain to all +but themselves, that at another year they cannot arrive. Though every +funeral that passes before their eyes evinces the deceitfulness of such +expectations, since every man who is born to the grave thought himself +equally certain of living at least to the next year; the survivor still +continues to flatter himself, and is never at a loss for some reason why +his life should be protracted, and the voracity of death continue to be +pacified with some other prey. + +But this is only one of the innumerable artifices practised in the +universal conspiracy of mankind against themselves: every age and every +condition indulges some darling fallacy; every man amuses himself with +projects which he knows to be improbable, and which, therefore, he +resolves to pursue without daring to examine them. Whatever any man +ardently desires, he very readily believes that he shall some time +attain: he whose intemperance has overwhelmed him with diseases, while +he languishes in the spring, expects vigour and recovery from the summer +sun; and while he melts away in the summer, transfers his hopes to the +frosts of winter: he that gazes upon elegance or pleasure, which want of +money hinders him from imitating or partaking, comforts himself that the +time of distress will soon be at an end, and that every day brings him +nearer to a state of happiness; though he knows it has passed not only +without acquisition of advantage, but perhaps without endeavours after +it, in the formation of schemes that cannot be executed, and in the +contemplation of prospects which cannot be approached. + +Such is the general dream in which we all slumber out our time: every +man thinks the day coming, in which he shall be gratified with all his +wishes, in which he shall leave all those competitors behind, who are +now rejoicing like himself in the expectation of victory; the day is +always coming to the servile in which they shall be powerful, to the +obscure in which they shall be eminent, and to the deformed in which +they shall be beautiful. + +If any of my readers has looked with so little attention on the world +about him, as to imagine this representation exaggerated beyond +probability, let him reflect a little upon his own life; let him +consider what were his hopes and prospects ten years ago, and what +additions he then expected to be made by ten years to his happiness; +those years are now elapsed; have they made good the promise that was +extorted from them? have they advanced his fortune, enlarged his +knowledge, or reformed his conduct, to the degree that was once +expected? I am afraid, every man that recollects his hopes must confess +his disappointment; and own that day has glided unprofitably after day, +and that he is still at the same distance from the point of happiness. + +With what consolations can those, who have thus miscarried in their +chief design, elude the memory of their ill success? with what +amusements can they pacify their discontent, after the loss of so large +a portion of life? they can give themselves up again to the same +delusions, they can form new schemes of airy gratifications, and fix +another period of felicity; they can again resolve to trust the promise +which they know will be broken, they can walk in a circle with their +eyes shut, and persuade themselves to think that they go forward. + +Of every great and complicated event, part depends upon causes out of +our power, and part must be effected by vigour and perseverance. With +regard to that which is styled in common language the work of chance, +men will always find reasons for confidence or distrust, according to +their different tempers or inclinations; and he that has been long +accustomed to please himself with possibilities of fortuitous happiness, +will not easily or willingly be reclaimed from his mistake. But the +effects of human industry and skill are more easily subjected to +calculation: whatever can be completed in a year, is divisible into +parts, of which each may be performed in the compass of a day; he, +therefore, that has passed the day without attention to the task +assigned him, may be certain, that the lapse of life has brought him no +nearer to his object; for whatever idleness may expect from time, its +produce will be only in proportion to the diligence with which it has +been used. He that floats lazily down the stream, in pursuit of +something borne along by the same current, will find himself indeed move +forward; but unless he lays his hand to the oar, and increases his speed +by his own labour, must be always at the same distance from that which +he is following. + +There have happened in every age some contingencies of unexpected and +undeserved success, by which those who are determined to believe +whatever favours their inclinations, have been encouraged to delight +themselves with future advantages; they support confidence by +considerations, of which the only proper use is to chase away despair: +it is equally absurd to sit down in idleness because some have been +enriched without labour, as to leap a precipice because some have fallen +and escaped with life, or to put to sea in a storm because some have +been driven from a wreck upon the coast to which they are bound. + +We are all ready to confess, that belief ought to be proportioned to +evidence or probability: let any man, therefore, compare the number of +those who have been thus favoured by fortune, and of those who have +failed of their expectations, and he will easily determine, with what +justness he has registered himself in the lucky catalogue. + +But there is no need on these occasions for deep inquiries or laborious +calculations; there is a far easier method of distinguishing the hopes +of folly from those of reason, of finding the difference between +prospects that exist before the eyes, and those that are only painted on +a fond imagination. Tom Drowsy had accustomed himself to compute the +profit of a darling project till he had no longer any doubt of its +success; it was at last matured by close consideration, all the measures +were accurately adjusted, and he wanted only five hundred pounds to +become master of a fortune that might be envied by a director of a +trading company. Tom was generous and grateful, and was resolved to +recompense this small assistance with an ample fortune; he, therefore, +deliberated for a time, to whom amongst his friends he should declare +his necessities; not that he suspected a refusal, but because he could +not suddenly determine which of them would make the best use of riches, +and was, therefore, most worthy of his favour. At last his choice was +settled; and knowing that in order to borrow he must shew the +probability of repayment, he prepared for a minute and copious +explanation of his project. But here the golden dream was at an end: he +soon discovered the impossibility of imposing upon others the notions by +which he had so long imposed upon himself; which way soever he turned +his thoughts, impossibility and absurdity arose in opposition on every +side; even credulity and prejudice were at last forced to give way, and +he grew ashamed of crediting himself what shame would not suffer him to +communicate to another. + +To this test let every man bring his imaginations, before they have been +too long predominant in his mind. Whatever is true will bear to be +related, whatever is rational will endure to be explained; but when we +delight to brood in secret over future happiness, and silently to employ +our meditations upon schemes of which we are conscious that the bare +mention would expose us to derision and contempt; we should then +remember, that we are cheating ourselves by voluntary delusions; and +giving up to the unreal mockeries of fancy, those hours in which solid +advantages might be attained by sober thought and rational assiduity. + +There is, indeed, so little certainty in human affairs, that the most +cautious and severe examiner may be allowed to indulge some hopes which +he cannot prove to be much favoured by probability; since, after his +utmost endeavours to ascertain events, he must often leave the issue in +the hands of chance. And so scanty is our present allowance of +happiness, that in many situations life could scarcely be supported, if +hope were not allowed to relieve the present hour by pleasures borrowed +from futurity; and reanimate the languor of dejection to new efforts, by +pointing to distant regions of felicity, which yet no resolution or +perseverance shall ever reach. + +But these, like all other cordials, though they may invigorate in a +small quantity, intoxicate in a greater; these pleasures, like the rest, +are lawful only in certain circumstances, and to certain degrees; they +may be useful in a due subserviency to nobler purposes, but become +dangerous and destructive when once they gain the ascendant in the +heart: to soothe the mind to tranquillity by hope, even when that hope +is likely to deceive us, may be sometimes useful; but to lull our +faculties in a lethargy is poor and despicable. + +Vices and errours are differently modified, according to the state of +the minds to which they are incident; to indulge hope beyond the warrant +of reason, is the failure alike of mean and elevated understandings; but +its foundation and its effects are totally different: the man of high +courage and great abilities is apt to place too much confidence in +himself, and to expect, from a vigorous exertion of his powers, more +than spirit or diligence can attain: between him and his wish he sees +obstacles indeed, but he expects to overleap or break them; his mistaken +ardour hurries him forward; and though, perhaps, he misses his end, he +nevertheless obtains some collateral good, and performs something useful +to mankind, and honourable to himself. + +The drone of timidity presumes likewise to hope, but without ground and +without consequence; the bliss with which he solaces his hours he always +expects from others, though very often he knows not from whom: he folds +his arms about him, and sits in expectation of some revolution in the +state that shall raise him to greatness, or some golden shower that +shall load him with wealth; he dozes away the day in musing upon the +morrow; and at the end of life is roused from his dream only to discover +that the time of action is past, and that he can now shew his wisdom +only by repentance. + + + + +No. 74. SATURDAY, JULY 21, 1753. + + _Insanientis dun sapientae + Consultus erro.--_ HOR. Lib. i. Od. xxxiv. 2. + + I miss'd my end, and lost my way, + By crack-brain'd wisdom led astray. + +TO THE ADVENTURER. + +SIR, + +It has long been charged by one part of mankind upon the other, that +they will not take advice; that counsel and instruction are generally +thrown away; and that, in defiance both of admonition and example, all +claim the right to choose their own measures, and to regulate their own +lives. + +That there is something in advice very useful and salutary, seems to be +equally confessed on all hands: since even those that reject it, allow +for the most part that rejection to be wrong, but charge the fault upon +the unskilful manner in which it is given: they admit the efficacy of +the medicine, but abhor the nauseousness of the vehicle. + +Thus mankind have gone on from century to century: some have been +advising others how to act, and some have been teaching the advisers how +to advise; yet very little alteration has been made in the world. As we +must all by the law of nature enter life in ignorance, we must all make +our way through it by the light of our own experience; and for any +security that advice has been yet able to afford, must endeavour after +success at the hazard of miscarriage, and learn to do right by venturing +to do wrong. + +By advice I would not be understood to mean, the everlasting and +invariable principles of moral and religious truth, from which no change +of external circumstances can justify any deviation; but such directions +as respect merely the prudential part of conduct, and which may he +followed or neglected without any violation of essential duties. + +It is, indeed, not so frequently to make us good as to make us wise, +that our friends employ the officiousness of counsel; and among the +rejectors of advice, who are mentioned by the grave and sententious with +so much acrimony, you will not so often find the vicious and abandoned, +as the pert and the petulant, the vivacious and the giddy. + +As the great end of female education is to get a husband, this likewise +is the general subject of female advice: and the dreadful denunciation +against those volatile girls, who will not listen patiently to the +lectures of wrinkled wisdom, is, that they will die unmarried, or throw +themselves away upon some worthless fellow, who will never be able to +keep them a coach. + +I being naturally of a ductile and easy temper, without strong desires +or quick resentments, was always a favourite amongst the elderly ladies, +because I never rebelled against seniority, nor could be charged with +thinking myself wise before my time; but heard every opinion with +submissive silence, professed myself ready to learn from all who seemed +inclined to teach me, paid the same grateful acknowledgments for +precepts contradictory to each other, and if any controversy arose, was +careful to side with her who presided in the company. + +Of this compliance I very early found the advantage; for my aunt Matilda +left me a very large addition to my fortune, for this reason chiefly, as +she herself declared, because I was not above hearing good counsel, but +would sit from morning till night to be instructed, while my sister +Sukey, who was a year younger than myself, and was, therefore, in +greater want of information, was so much conceited of her own knowledge, +that whenever the good lady in the ardour of benevolence reproved or +instructed her, she would pout or titter, interrupt her with questions, +or embarrass her with objections. + +I had no design to supplant my sister by this complaisant attention; +nor, when the consequence of my obsequiousness came to be known, did +Sukey so much envy as despise me: I was, however, very well pleased with +my success; and having received, from the concurrent opinion of all +mankind, a notion that to be rich was to be great and happy, I thought I +had obtained my advantages at an easy rate, and resolved to continue the +same passive attention, since I found myself so powerfully recommended +by it to kindness and esteem. + +The desire of advising has a very extensive prevalence; and since advice +cannot be given but to those that will hear it, a patient listener is +necessary to the accommodation of all those who desire to be confirmed +in the opinion of their own wisdom: a patient listener, however, is not +always to be had; the present age, whatever age is present, is so +vitiated and disordered that young people are readier to talk than to +attend, and good counsel is only thrown away upon those who are full of +their own perfections. + +I was, therefore, in this scarcity of good sense, a general favourite; +and seldom saw a day in which some sober matron did not invite me to her +house, or take me out in her chariot, for the sake of instructing me how +to keep my character in this censorious age, how to conduct myself in +the time of courtship, how to stipulate for a settlement, how to manage +a husband of every character, regulate my family, and educate my +children. + +We are all naturally credulous in our own favour. Having been so often +caressed and applauded for docility, I was willing to believe myself +really enlightened by instruction, and completely qualified for the task +of life. I did not doubt but I was entering the world with a mind +furnished against all exigencies, with expedients to extricate myself +from every difficulty, and sagacity to provide against every danger; I +was, therefore, in haste to give some specimen of my prudence, and to +show that this liberality of instruction had not been idly lavished upon +a mind incapable of improvement. + +My purpose, for why should I deny it? was like that of other women, to +obtain a husband of rank and fortune superior to my own; and in this I +had the concurrence of all those that had assumed the province of +directing me. That the woman was undone who married below herself, was +universally agreed: and though some ventured to assert, that the richer +man ought invariably to be preferred, and that money was a sufficient +compensation for a defective ancestry; yet the majority declared warmly +for a gentleman, and were of opinion that upstarts should not be +encouraged. + +With regard to other qualifications I had an irreconcilable variety of +instructions. I was sometimes told that deformity was no defect in a +man; and that he who was not encouraged to intrigue by an opinion of his +person, was more likely to value the tenderness of his wife: but a +grave-widow directed me to choose a man who might imagine himself +agreeable to me, for that the deformed were always insupportably +vigilant, and apt to sink into sullenness, or burst into rage, if they +found their wife's eye wandering for a moment to a good face or a +handsome shape. + +They were, however, all unanimous in warning me, with repeated cautions, +against all thoughts of union with a wit, as a being with whom no +happiness could possibly be enjoyed: men of every other kind I was +taught to govern, but a wit was an animal for whom no arts of taming had +been yet discovered: the woman whom he could once get within his power, +was considered as lost to all hope of dominion or of quiet: for he would +detect artifice and defeat allurement; and if once he discovered any +failure of conduct, would believe his own eyes, in defiance of tears, +caresses, and protestations. + +In pursuance of these sage principles, I proceeded to form my schemes; +and while I was yet in the first bloom of youth, was taken out at an +assembly by Mr. Frisk. I am afraid my cheeks glowed, and my eyes +sparkled; for I observed the looks of all my superintendants fixed +anxiously upon me; and I was next day cautioned against him from all +hands, as a man of the most dangerous and formidable kind, who had writ +verses to one lady, and then forsaken her only because she could not +read them, and had lampooned another for no other fault than defaming +his sister. + +Having been hitherto accustomed to obey, I ventured to dismiss Mr. +Frisk, who happily did not think me worth the labour of a lampoon. I was +then addressed by Mr. Sturdy, and congratulated by all my friends on the +manors of which I was shortly to be lady: but Sturdy's conversation was +so gross, that after the third visit I could endure him no longer; and +incurred, by dismissing him, the censure of all my friends, who declared +that my nicety was greater than my prudence, and that they feared it +would be my fate at last to be wretched with a wit. + +By a wit, however, I was never afterwards attacked, but lovers of every +other class, or pretended lovers, I have often had; and, notwithstanding +the advice constantly given me, to have no regard in my choice to my own +inclinations, I could not forbear to discard some for vice, and some for +rudeness. I was once loudly censured for refusing an old gentleman who +offered an enormous jointure, and died of the phthisic a year after; and +was so baited with incessant importunities, that I should have given my +hand to Drone the stock-jobber, had not the reduction of interest made +him afraid of the expenses of matrimony. + +Some, indeed, I was permitted to encourage; but miscarried of the main +end, by treating them according to the rules of art which had been +prescribed me. Altilis, an old maid, infused into me so much haughtiness +and reserve, that some of my lovers withdrew themselves from my frown, +and returned no more; others were driven away, by the demands of +settlement which the widow Trapland directed me to make; and I have +learned, by many experiments, that to ask advice is to lose opportunity. + +I am, Sir, + +Your humble servant, + +PERDITA. + + + + +No. 81. TUESDAY, AUGUST 14, 1753. + + _Nil desperandum. Lib. i. Od. vii. 27. + + Avaunt despair!_ + +I have sometimes heard it disputed in conversation, whether it be more +laudable or desirable, that a man should think too highly or too meanly +of himself: it is on all hands agreed to be best, that he should think +rightly; but since a fallible being will always make some deviations +from exact rectitude, it is not wholly useless to inquire towards which +side it is safer to decline. + +The prejudices of mankind seem to favour him who errs by under-rating +his own powers: he is considered as a modest and harmless member of +society, not likely to break the peace by competition, to endeavour +after such splendour of reputation as may dim the lustre of others, or +to interrupt any in the enjoyment of themselves; he is no man's rival, +and, therefore, may be every man's friend. + +The opinion which a man entertains of himself ought to be distinguished, +in order to an accurate discussion of this question, as it relates to +persons or to things. To think highly of ourselves in comparison with +others, to assume by our own authority that precedence which none is +willing to grant, must be always invidious and offensive; but to rate +our powers high in proportion to things, and imagine ourselves equal to +great undertakings, while we leave others in possession of the same +abilities, cannot with equal justice provoke censure. + +It must be confessed, that self-love may dispose us to decide too +hastily in our own favour: but who is hurt by the mistake? If we are +incited by this vain opinion to attempt more than we can perform, ours +is the labour, and ours is the disgrace. + +But he that dares to think well of himself, will not always prove to be +mistaken; and the good effects of his confidence will then appear in +great attempts and great performances: if he should not fully complete +his design, he will at least advance it so far as to leave an easier +task for him that succeeds him; and even though he should wholly fail, +he will fail with honour. + +But from the opposite errour, from torpid despondency, can come no +advantage; it is the frost of the soul, which binds up all its powers, +and congeals life in perpetual sterility. He that has no hopes of +success, will make no attempts; and where nothing is attempted, nothing +can be done. + +Every man should, therefore, endeavour to maintain in himself a +favourable opinion of the powers of the human mind; which are, perhaps, +in every man, greater than they appear, and might, by diligent +cultivation, be exalted to a degree beyond what their possessor presumes +to believe. There is scarce any man but has found himself able, at the +instigation of necessity, to do what in a state of leisure and +deliberation he would have concluded impossible; and some of our species +have signalized themselves by such achievements, as prove that there are +few things above human hope. + +It has been the policy of all nations to preserve, by some public +monuments, the memory of those who have served their country by great +exploits: there is the same reason for continuing or reviving the names +of those, whose extensive abilities have dignified humanity. An honest +emulation may be alike excited; and the philosopher's curiosity may be +inflamed by a catalogue of the works of Boyle or Bacon, as Themistocles +was kept awake by the trophies of Miltiades. + +Among the favourites of nature that have from time to time appeared in +the world, enriched with various endowments and contrarieties of +excellence, none seems to have been exalted above the common rate of +humanity, than the man known about two centuries ago by the appellation +of the Admirable Crichton; of whose history, whatever we may suppress as +surpassing credibility, yet we shall, upon incontestable authority, +relate enough to rank him among prodigies. + +"Virtue," says Virgil, "is better accepted when it comes in a pleasing +form:" the person of Crichton was eminently beautiful; but his beauty +was consistent with such activity and strength, that in fencing he would +spring at one bound the length of twenty feet upon his antagonist; and +he used the sword in either hand with such force and dexterity, that +scarce any one had courage to engage him. + +Having studied at St. Andrew's in Scotland, he went to Paris in his +twenty-first year, and affixed on the gate of the college of Navarre a +kind of challenge to the learned of that university to dispute with him +on a certain day: offering to his opponents, whoever they should be, the +choice of ten languages, and of all faculties and sciences. On the day +appointed three thousand auditors assembled, when four doctors of the +church and fifty masters appeared against him; and one of his +antagonists confesses, that the doctors were defeated; that he gave +proofs of knowledge above the reach of man; and that a hundred years +passed without food or sleep, would not be sufficient for the attainment +of his learning. After a disputation of nine hours, he was presented by +the president and professors with a diamond and a purse of gold, and +dismissed with repeated acclamations. + +From Paris he went away to Rome, where he made the same challenge, and +had in the presence of the pope and cardinals the same success. +Afterwards he contracted at Venice an acquaintance with Aldus Manutius, +by whom he was introduced to the learned of that city: then visited +Padua, where he engaged in another publick disputation, beginning his +performance with an extemporal poem in praise of the city and the +assembly then present, and concluding with an oration equally +unpremeditated in commendation of ignorance. + +He afterwards published another challenge, in which he declared himself +ready to detect the errours of Aristotle and all his commentators, +either in the common forms of logick, or in any which his antagonists +should propose of a hundred different kinds of verse. + +These acquisitions of learning, however stupendous, were not gained at +the expense of any pleasure which youth generally indulges, or by the +omission of any accomplishment in which it becomes a gentleman to excel: +he practised in great perfection the arts of drawing and painting, he +was an eminent performer in both vocal and instrumental musick, he +danced with uncommon gracefulness, and, on the day after his disputation +at Paris, exhibited his skill in horsemanship before the court of +France, where at a publick match of tilting, he bore away the ring upon +his lance fifteen times together. + +He excelled likewise in domestic games of less dignity and reputation: +and in the interval between his challenge and disputation at Paris, he +spent so much of his time at cards, dice, and tennis, that a lampoon was +fixed upon the gate of the Sorbonne, directing those that would see this +monster of erudition, to look for him at the tavern. + +So extensive was his acquaintance with life and manners, that in an +Italian comedy composed by himself, and exhibited before the court of +Mantua, he is said to have personated fifteen different characters; in +all which he might succeed without great difficulty, since he had such +power of retention, that once hearing an oration of an hour, he would +repeat it exactly, and in the recital follow the speaker through all his +variety of tone and gesticulation. + +Nor was his skill in arms less than in learning, or his courage inferior +to his skill: there was a prize-fighter at Mantua, who travelling about +the world, according to the barbarous custom of that age, as a general +challenger, had defeated the most celebrated masters in many parts of +Europe; and in Mantua, where he then resided, had killed three that +appeared against him. The duke repented that he had granted him his +protection; when Crichton, looking on his sanguinary success with +indignation, offered to stake fifteen hundred pistoles, and mount the +stage against him. The duke with some reluctance consented, and on the +day fixed the combatants appeared: their weapon seems to have been +single rapier, which was then newly introduced in Italy. The +prize-fighter advanced with great violence and fierceness, and Crichton +contented himself calmly to ward his passes, and suffered him to exhaust +his vigour by his own fury. Crichton then became the assailant; and +pressed upon him with such force and agility, that he thrust him thrice +through the body, and saw him expire: he then divided the prize he had +won among the widows whose husbands had been killed. + +The death of this wonderful man I should be willing to conceal, did I +not know that every reader will inquire curiously after that fatal hour, +which is common to all human beings, however distinguished from each +other by nature or by fortune. + +The duke of Mantua, having received so many proofs of his various merit, +made him tutor to his son Vicentio di Gonzaga, a prince of loose manners +and turbulent disposition. On this occasion it was, that he composed the +comedy in which he exhibited so many different characters with exact +propriety. But his honour was of short continuance; for as he was one +night in the time of Carnival rambling about the streets, with his +guitar in his hand, he was attacked by six men masked. Neither his +courage nor skill in his exigence deserted him: he opposed them with +such activity and spirit, that he soon dispersed them, and disarmed +their leader, who throwing off his mask, discovered himself to be the +prince his pupil. Crichton, falling on his knees, took his own sword by +the point, and presented it to the prince; who immediately seized it, +and instigated, as some say, by jealousy, according to others, only by +drunken fury and brutal resentment, thrust him through the heart. + +Thus was the Admirable Crichton brought into that state, in which he +could excel the meanest of mankind only by a few empty honours paid to +his memory: the court of Mantua testified their esteem by a publick +mourning, the contemporary wits were profuse of their encomiums, and the +palaces of Italy were adorned with pictures, representing him on +horseback with a lance in one hand and a book in the other[1]. + +[1] This paper is enumerated by Chalmers among those which Johnson + dictated, not to Bathurst, but to Hawkesworth. It is an elegant + summary of Crichton's life which is in Mackenzie's Writers of the + Scotch Nation. See a fuller account by the Earl of Buchan and Dr. + Kippis in the Biog. Brit. and the recently published one by Mr. + Frazer Tytler. + + + + +No. 84. SATURDAY, AUGUST 25, 1753. + + _Tolle periclum, + Jam vaga prosiliet frenis natura remotis._ HOR. Lib. ii. Sat. vii. 73. + + But take the danger and the shame away, + And vagrant nature bounds upon her prey. FRANCIS. + +TO THE ADVENTURER. + +SIR, + +It has been observed, I think, by Sir William Temple, and after him by +almost every other writer, that England affords a greater variety of +characters than the rest of the world. This is ascribed to the liberty +prevailing amongst us, which gives every man the privilege of being wise +or foolish his own way, and preserves him from the necessity of +hypocrisy or the servility of imitation. + +That the position itself is true, I am not completely satisfied. To be +nearly acquainted with the people of different countries can happen to +very few; and in life, as in every thing else beheld at a distance, +there appears an even uniformity: the petty discriminations which +diversify the natural character, are not discoverable but by a close +inspection; we, therefore, find them most at home, because there we have +most opportunities of remarking them. Much less am I convinced, that +this peculiar diversification, if it be real, is the consequence of +peculiar liberty; for where is the government to be found that +superintends individuals with so much vigilance, as not to leave their +private conduct without restraint? Can it enter into a reasonable mind +to imagine, that men of every other nation are not equally masters of +their own time or houses with ourselves, and equally at liberty to be +parsimonious or profuse, frolick or sullen, abstinent or luxurious? +Liberty is certainly necessary to the full play of predominant humours; +but such liberty is to be found alike under the government of the many +or the few, in monarchies or commonwealths. + +How readily the predominant passion snatches an interval of liberty, and +how fast it expands itself when the weight of restraint is taken away, I +had lately an opportunity to discover, as I took a journey into the +country in a stage-coach; which, as every journey is a kind of +adventure, may be very properly related to you, though I can display no +such extraordinary assembly as Cervantes has collected at Don Quixote's +inn[1]. + +In a stage coach, the passengers are for the most part wholly unknown to +one another, and without expectation of ever meeting again when their +journey is at an end; one should therefore imagine, that it was of +little importance to any of them, what conjectures the rest should form +concerning him. Yet so it is, that as all think themselves secure from +detection, all assume that character of which they are most desirous, +and on no occasion is the general ambition of superiority more +apparently indulged. + +On the day of our departure, in the twilight of the morning, I ascended +the vehicle with three men and two women, my fellow travellers. It was +easy to observe the affected elevation of mien with which every one +entered, and the supercilious servility with which they paid their +compliments to each other. When the first ceremony was despatched, we +sat silent for a long time, all employed in collecting importance into +our faces, and endeavouring to strike reverence and submission into our +companions. + +It is always observable that silence propagates itself, and that the +longer talk has been suspended, the more difficult it is to find any +thing to say. We began now to wish for conversation; but no one seemed +inclined to descend from his dignity, or first propose a topick of +discourse. At last a corpulent gentleman, who had equipped himself for +this expedition with a scarlet surtout and a large hat with a broad +lace, drew out his watch, looked on it in silence, and then held it +dangling at his finger. This was, I suppose, understood by all the +company as an invitation to ask the time of the day, but nobody appeared +to heed his overture; and his desire to be talking so far overcame his +resentment, that he let us know of his own accord it was past five, and +that in two hours we should be at breakfast. + +His condescension was thrown away: we continued all obdurate; the ladies +held up their heads; I amused myself with watching their behaviour; and +of the other two, one seemed to employ himself in counting the trees as +we drove by them, the other drew his hat over his eyes, and +counterfeited a slumber. The man of benevolence, to shew that he was not +depressed by our neglect, hummed a tune, and beat time upon his +snuff-box. + +Thus universally displeased with one another, and not much delighted +with ourselves, we came at last to the little inn appointed for our +repast; and all began at once to recompense themselves for the +constraint of silence, by innumerable questions and orders to the people +that attended us. At last, what every one had called for was got, or +declared impossible to be got at that time, and we were persuaded to sit +round the same table; when the gentleman in the red surtout looked again +upon his watch, told us that we had half an hour to spare, but he was +sorry to see so little merriment among us; that all fellow travellers +were for the time upon the level, and that it was always his way to make +himself one of the company. "I remember," says he, "it was on just such +a morning as this, that I and my Lord Mumble and the Duke of Tenterden +were out upon a ramble: we called at a little house as it might be this; +and my landlady, I warrant you, not suspecting to whom she was talking, +was so jocular and facetious, and made so many merry answers to our +questions, that we were all ready to burst with laughter. At last the +good woman happening to overhear me whisper the duke and call him by his +title, was so surprised and confounded, that we could scarcely get a +word from her; and the duke never met me from that day to this, but he +talks of the little house, and quarrels with me for terrifying the +landlady." + +He had scarcely time to congratulate himself on the veneration which +this narrative must have procured for him from the company, when one of +the ladies having reached out for a plate on a distant part of the +table, began to remark, "the inconveniencies of travelling, and the +difficulty which they who never sat at home without a great number of +attendants, found in performing for themselves such offices as the road +required; but that people of quality often travelled in disguise, and +might be generally known from the vulgar by their condescension to poor +inn-keepers, and the allowance which they made for any defect in their +entertainment; that for her part, while people were civil and meant +well, it was never her custom to find fault, for one was not to expect +upon a journey all that one enjoyed at one's own house." + +A general emulation seemed now to be excited. One of the men who had +hitherto said nothing, called for the last newspaper; and having perused +it a while with deep pensiveness, "It is impossible," says he, "for any +man to guess how to act with regard to the stocks; last week it was the +general opinion that they would fall; and I sold out twenty thousand +pounds in order to a purchase: they have now risen unexpectedly; and I +make no doubt but at my return to London I shall risk thirty thousand +pounds among them again." + +A young man, who had hitherto distinguished himself only by the vivacity +of his looks, and a frequent diversion of his eyes from one object to +another, upon this closed his snuff-box, and told us that "he had a +hundred times talked with the chancellor and the judges on the subject +of the stocks; that for his part he did not pretend to be well +acquainted with the principles on which they were established, but had +always heard them reckoned pernicious to trade, uncertain in their +produce, and unsolid in their foundation; and that he had been advised +by three judges, his most intimate friends, never to venture his money +in the funds, but to put it out upon land security, till he could light +upon an estate in his own country." + +It might be expected, that upon these glimpses of latent dignity, we +should all have begun to look round us with veneration; and have behaved +like the princes of romance, when the enchantment that disguises them is +dissolved, and they discover the dignity of each other; yet it happened, +that none of these hints made much impression on the company; every one +was apparently suspected of endeavouring to impose false appearances +upon the rest; all continued their haughtiness in hopes to enforce their +claims; and all grew every hour more sullen, because they found their +representations of themselves without effect. + +Thus we travelled on four days with malevolence perpetually increasing, +and without any endeavour but to outvie each other in superciliousness +and neglect; and when any two of us could separate ourselves for a +moment we vented our indignation at the sauciness of the rest. + +At length the journey was at an end; and time and chance, that strip off +all disguises, have discovered that the intimate of lords and dukes is a +nobleman's butler, who has furnished a shop with the money he has saved; +the man who deals so largely in the funds, is the clerk of a broker in +Change-alley; the lady who so carefully concealed her quality, keeps a +cook-shop behind the Exchange; and the young man who is so happy in the +friendship of the judges, engrosses and transcribes for bread in a +garret of the Temple. Of one of the women only I could make no +disadvantageous detection, because she had assumed no character, but +accommodated herself to the scene before her, without any struggle for +distinction or superiority. + +I could not forbear to reflect on the folly of practising a fraud, +which, as the event showed, had been already practised too often to +succeed, and by the success of which no advantage could have been +obtained; of assuming a character, which was to end with the day; and of +claiming upon false pretences honours which must perish with the breath +that paid them. + +But, Mr. Adventurer, let not those who laugh at me and my companions, +think this folly confined to a stagecoach. Every man in the journey of +life takes the same advantage of the ignorance of his fellow travellers, +disguises himself in counterfeited merit, and hears those praises with +complacency which his conscience reproaches him for accepting. Every man +deceives himself while he thinks he is deceiving others; and forgets +that the time is at hand when every illusion shall cease, when +fictitious excellence shall be torn away, and _all_ must be shown to +_all_ in their realestate. + +I am, Sir, your humble servant, + +Viator. + +[1] Johnson has made impressive allusion to the immortal work of + Cervantes in his second Rambler. Every reflecting man must arise + from its perusal with feelings of the deepest melancholy, with the + most tender commiseration for the weakness and lot of humanity. To + such a man its moral must ever be "profoundly sad." Vulgar minds + cannot know it. Hence it has ever been the favorite with the + intellectual class, while Gil Blas has more generally won the + applause of men of the world. An amusing anecdote of the almost + universal admiration for the _chef d'oeuvre_ of Le Sage may be found + in Butler's Reminiscences. + + That bigotted, yet extraordinary man, Alva, predicted, with + prophetic precision, the effects which the satire on Chivalry would + produce in Spain. _See Broad Stone of Honour; or Rules for the + Gentlemen of England._ + + + + +No. 85 TUESDAY, AUGUST 28, 1753. + + _Qui studet optatam cursu contingere metam, + Multa tulit fecitque puer._ HOR. De Ar. Poet. 412. + + The youth, who hopes th' Olympic prize to gain, + All arts must try, and every toil sustain. FRANCIS. + +It is observed by Bacon, that "reading makes a full man, conversation a +ready man, and writing an exact man." + +As Bacon attained to degrees of knowledge scarcely ever reached by any +other man, the directions which he gives for study have certainly a just +claim to our regard; for who can teach an art with so great authority, +as he that has practised it with undisputed success? + +Under the protection of so great a name, I shall, therefore, venture to +inculcate to my ingenious contemporaries, the necessity of reading, the +fitness of consulting other understandings than their own, and of +considering the sentiments and opinions of those who, however neglected +in the present age, had in their own times, and many of them a long time +afterwards, such reputation for knowledge and acuteness as will scarcely +ever be attained by those that despise them. + +An opinion has of late been, I know not how, propagated among us, that +libraries are filled only with useless lumber; that men of parts stand +in need of no assistance; and that to spend life in poring upon books, +is only to imbibe prejudices, to obstruct and embarrass the powers of +nature, to cultivate memory at the expense of judgment, and to bury +reason under a chaos of indigested learning. + +Such is the talk of many who think themselves wise, and of some who are +thought wise by others; of whom part probably believe their own tenets, +and part may be justly suspected of endeavouring to shelter their +ignorance in multitudes, and of wishing to destroy that reputation which +they have no hopes to share. It will, I believe, be found invariably +true, that learning was never decried by any learned man; and what +credit can be given to those who venture to condemn that which they do +not know? + +If reason has the power ascribed to it by its advocates, if so much is +to be discovered by attention and meditation, it is hard to believe, +that so many millions, equally participating of the bounties of nature +with ourselves, have been for ages upon ages meditating in vain: if the +wits of the present time expect the regard of posterity, which will then +inherit the reason which is now thought superior to instruction, surely +they may allow themselves to be instructed by the reason of former +generations. When, therefore, an author declares, that he has been able +to learn nothing from the writings of his predecessors, and such a +declaration has been lately made, nothing but a degree of arrogance +unpardonable in the greatest human understanding, can hinder him from +perceiving that he is raising prejudices against his own performance; +for with what hopes of success can he attempt that in which greater +abilities have hitherto miscarried? or with what peculiar force does he +suppose himself invigorated, that difficulties hitherto invincible +should give way before him? + +Of those whom Providence has qualified to make any additions to human +knowledge, the number is extremely small; and what can be added by each +single mind, even of this superior class, is very little: the greatest +part of mankind must owe all their knowledge, and all must owe far the +larger part of it, to the information of others. To understand the works +of celebrated authors, to comprehend their systems, and retain their +reasonings, is a task more than equal to common intellects; and he is by +no means to be accounted useless or idle, who has stored his mind with +acquired knowledge, and can detail it occasionally to others who have +less leisure or weaker abilities. + +Persius has justly observed, that knowledge is nothing to him who is not +known by others to possess it[1]: to the scholar himself it is nothing +with respect either to honour or advantage, for the world cannot reward +those qualities which are concealed from it; with respect to others it +is nothing, because it affords no help to ignorance or errour. + +It is with justice, therefore, that in an accomplished character, Horace +unites just sentiments with the power of expressing them; and he that +has once accumulated learning, is next to consider, how he shall most +widely diffuse and most agreeably impart it. + +A ready man is made by conversation. He that buries himself among his +manuscripts, "besprent," as Pope expresses it, "with learned dust," and +wears out his days and nights in perpetual research and solitary +meditation, is too apt to lose in his elocution what he adds to his +wisdom; and when he comes into the world, to appear overloaded with his +own notions, like a man armed with weapons which he cannot wield. He has +no facility of inculcating his speculations, of adapting himself to the +various degrees of intellect which the accidents of conversation will +present; but will talk to most unintelligibly, and to all unpleasantly. + +I was once present at the lectures of a profound philosopher, a man +really skilled in the science which he professed, who having occasion to +explain the terms _opacum_ and _pellucidum_, told us, after some +hesitation, that _opacum_ was, as one might say, _opake_, and that +_pellucidum_ signified _pellucid_. Such was the dexterity with which +this learned reader facilitated to his auditors the intricacies of +science; and so true is it, that a man may know what he cannot teach. + +Boerhaave complains, that the writers who have treated of chymistry +before him, are useless to the greater part of students, because they +presuppose their readers to have such degrees of skill as are not often +to be found. Into the same errour are all men apt to fall, who have +familiarized any subject to themselves in solitude: they discourse, as +if they thought every other man had been employed in the same inquiries; +and expect that short hints and obscure allusions will produce in others +the same train of ideas which they excite in themselves. + +Nor is this the only inconvenience which the man of study suffers from a +recluse life. When he meets with an opinion that pleases him, he catches +it up with eagerness; looks only after such arguments as tend to his +confirmation; or spares himself the trouble of discussion, and adopts it +with very little proof; indulges it long without suspicion, and in time +unites it to the general body of his knowledge, and treasures it up +among incontestable truths: but when he comes into the world among men +who, arguing upon dissimilar principles, have been led to different +conclusions, and being placed in various situations, view the same +object on many sides; he finds his darling position attacked, and +himself in no condition to defend it: having thought always in one +train, he is in the state of a man who having fenced always with the +same master, is perplexed and amazed by a new posture of his antagonist; +he is entangled in unexpected difficulties, he is harassed by sudden +objections, he is unprovided with solutions or replies; his surprise +impedes his natural powers of reasoning, his thoughts are scattered and +confounded, and he gratifies the pride of airy petulance with an easy +victory. + +It is difficult to imagine, with what obstinacy truths which one mind +perceives almost by intuition, will be rejected by another; and how many +artifices must be practised, to procure admission for the most evident +propositions into understandings frighted by their novelty, or hardened +against them by accidental prejudice; it can scarcely be conceived, how +frequently, in these extemporaneous controversies, the dull will be +subtle, and the acute absurd; how often stupidity will elude the force +of argument, by involving itself in its own gloom; and mistaken +ingenuity will weave artful fallacies, which reason can scarcely find +means to disentangle. + +In these encounters the learning of the recluse usually fails him: +nothing but long habit and frequent experiments can confer the power of +changing a position into various forms, presenting it in different +points of view, connecting it with known and granted truths, fortifying +it with intelligible arguments, and illustrating it by apt similitudes; +and he, therefore, that has collected his knowledge in solitude, must +learn its application by mixing with mankind. + +But while the various opportunities of conversation invite us to try +every mode of argument, and every art of recommending our sentiments, we +are frequently betrayed to the use of such as are not in themselves +strictly defensible: a man heated in talk, and eager of victory, takes +advantage of the mistakes or ignorance of his adversary, lays hold of +concessions to which he knows he has no right, and urges proofs likely +to prevail on his opponent, though he knows himself that they have no +force: thus the severity of reason is relaxed, many topicks are +accumulated, but without just arrangement or distinction; we learn to +satisfy ourselves with such ratiocination as silences others; and seldom +recall to a close examination, that discourse which has gratified our +vanity with victory and applause. + +Some caution, therefore, must be used lest copiousness and facility be +made less valuable by inaccuracy and confusion. To fix the thoughts by +writing, and subject them to frequent examinations and reviews, is the +best method of enabling the mind to detect its own sophisms, and keep it +on guard against the fallacies which it practises on others: in +conversation we naturally diffuse our thoughts, and in writing we +contract them; method is the excellence of writing, and unconstraint the +grace of conversation. + +To read, write, and converse in due proportions, is, therefore, the +business of a man of letters. For all these there is not often equal +opportunity; excellence, therefore, is not often attainable; and most +men fail in one or other of the ends proposed, and are full without +readiness, or without exactness. Some deficiency must be forgiven all, +because all are men; and more must be allowed to pass uncensured in the +greater part of the world, because none can confer upon himself +abilities, and few have the choice of situations proper for the +improvement of those which nature has bestowed: it is, however, +reasonable to have _perfection_ in our eye; that we may always advance +towards it, though we know it never can be reached. + +[1] Scire tuum nihil est, nisi te scire hoc sciat alter. Sat. i. 27. + + + + +No. 92. SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 22, 1753. + + _Cum tabulis animum censoris sumet honesti._HOR. Lib. ii. Ep. it. 110. + + Bold be the critick, zealous to his trust, + Like the firm judge inexorably just. + +TO THE ADVENTURER. + +Sir, + +In the papers of criticism which you have given to the publick, I have +remarked a spirit of candour and love of truth equally remote from +bigotry and captiousness; a just distribution of praise amongst the +ancients and the moderns: a sober deference to reputation long +established, without a blind adoration of antiquity; and a willingness +to favour later performances, without a light or puerile fondness for +novelty. + +I shall, therefore, venture to lay before you, such observations as have +risen to my mind in the consideration of Virgil's pastorals, without any +inquiry how far my sentiments deviate from established rules or common +opinions. + +If we survey the ten pastorals in a general view, it will be found that +Virgil can derive from them very little claim to the praise of an +inventor. To search into the antiquity of this kind of poetry is not my +present purpose; that it has long subsisted in the east, the _Sacred +Writings_ sufficiently inform us; and we may conjecture, with great +probability, that it was sometimes the devotion, and sometimes the +entertainment of the first generations of mankind. Theocritus united +elegance with simplicity; and taught his shepherds to sing with so much +ease and harmony, that his countrymen, despairing to excel, forbore to +imitate him; and the Greeks, however vain or ambitious, left him in +quiet possession of the garlands which the wood-nymphs had bestowed upon +him. + +Virgil, however, taking advantage of another language, ventured to copy +or to rival the _Sicilian bard_: he has written with greater splendour +of diction, and elevation of sentiment: but as the magnificence of his +performances was more, the simplicity was less; and, perhaps, where he +excels Theocritus, he sometimes obtains his superiority by deviating +from the pastoral character, and performing what Theocritus never +attempted. + +Yet, though I would willingly pay to Theocritus the honour which is +always due to an original author, I am far from intending to depreciate +Virgil: of whom Horace justly declares, that the rural muses have +appropriated to him their elegance and sweetness, and who, as he copied +Theocritus in his design, has resembled him likewise in his success; +for, if we except Calphurnius, an obscure author of the lower ages, I +know not that a single pastoral was written after him by any poet, till +the revival of literature. + +But though his general merit has been universally acknowledged, I am far +from thinking all the productions of his rural Thalia equally excellent; +there is, indeed, in all his pastorals a strain of versification which +it is vain to seek in any other poet; but if we except the first and the +tenth, they seem liable either wholly or in part to considerable +objections. + +The second, though we should forget the great charge against it, which I +am afraid can never be refuted, might, I think, have perished, without +any diminution of the praise of its author; for I know not that it +contains one affecting sentiment or pleasing description, or one passage +that strikes the imagination or awakens the passions. + +The third contains a contest between two shepherds, begun with a quarrel +of which some particulars might well be spared, carried on with +sprightliness and elegance, and terminated at last in a reconciliation: +but, surely, whether the invectives with which they attack each other be +true or false, they are too much degraded from the dignity of pastoral +innocence; and instead of rejoicing that they are both victorious, I +should not have grieved could they have been both defeated. + +The poem to Pollio is, indeed, of another kind: it is filled with images +at once splendid and pleasing, and is elevated with grandeur of language +worthy of the first of Roman poets; but I am not able to reconcile +myself to the disproportion between the performance and the occasion +that produced it: that the golden age should return because Pollio had a +son, appears so wild a fiction, that I am ready to suspect the poet of +having written, for some other purpose, what he took this opportunity of +producing to the publick. + +The fifth contains a celebration of Daphnis, which has stood to all +succeeding ages as the model of pastoral elegies. To deny praise to a +performance which so many thousands have laboured to imitate, would be +to judge with too little deference for the opinion of mankind: yet +whoever shall read it with impartiality, will find that most of the +images are of the mythological kind, and therefore easily invented; and +that there are few sentiments of rational praise or natural lamentation. + +In the Silenus he again rises to the dignity of philosophick sentiments, +and heroick poetry. The address to Varus is eminently beautiful: but +since the compliment paid to Gallus fixes the transaction to his own +time, the fiction of Silenus seems injudicious: nor has any sufficient +reason yet been found, to justify his choice of those fables that make +the subject of the song. + +The seventh exhibits another contest of the tuneful shepherds: and, +surely, it is not without some reproach to his inventive power, that of +ten pastorals Virgil has written two upon the same plan. One of the +shepherds now gains an acknowledged victory, but without any apparent, +superiority, and the reader, when he sees the prize adjudged, is not +able to discover how it was deserved. + +Of the eighth pastoral, so little is properly the work of Virgil, that +he has no claim to other praise or blame, than that of a translator. + +Of the ninth, it is scarce possible to discover the design or tendency; +it is said, I know not upon what authority, to have been composed from +fragments of other poems; and except a few lines in which the author +touches upon his own misfortunes, there is nothing that seems +appropriated to any time or place, or of which any other use can be +discovered than to fill up the poem. + +The first and the tenth pastorals, whatever be determined of the rest, +are sufficient to place their author above the reach of rivalry. The +complaint of Gallus disappointed in his love, is full of such sentiments +as disappointed love naturally produces; his wishes are wild, his +resentment is tender, and his purposes are inconstant. In the genuine +language of despair, he soothes himself awhile with the pity that shall +be paid him after his death. + + _--Tamen cantabitis, Arcades, inquit, + Montibus haec vestris: soli cantare periti + Arcades. O mihi tum quam molliter ossa quiescant, + Vestra meos olim si fistula dicat amores!_ Virg. Ec. x. 31. + + --Yet, O Arcadian swains, + Ye best artificers of soothing strains! + Tune your soft reeds, and teach your rocks my woes, + So shall my shade in sweeter rest repose. + O that your birth and business had been mine; + To feed the flock, and prune the spreading vine! WARTON. + +Discontented with his present condition, and desirous to be any thing +but what he is, he wishes himself one of the shepherds. He then catches +the idea of rural tranquillity; but soon discovers how much happier he +should be in these happy regions, with Lycoris at his side: + + _Hic gelidi fontes, hic mollia prata, Lycori: + Hic nemus, hic ipso tecum consumerer aevo. + Nunc insanus amor duri me Martis in armis + Tela inter media atque adversos detinet hostes. + Tu procul a patria (nec sit mihi credere) tantum + Alpinas, ah dura, nives, et frigora Rheni + Me sine sola vides. Ah te ne frigora laedant! + Ah tibi ne teneras glacies secet aspera plantas!_ Ec. x. 42. + + Here cooling fountains roll through flow'ry meads, + Here woods, Lycoris, lift their verdant heads; + Here could I wear my careless life away, + And in thy arms insensibly decay. + Instead of that, me frantick love detains, + 'Mid foes, and dreadful darts, and bloody plains: + While you--and can my soul the tale believe, + Far from your country, lonely wand'ring leave + Me, me your lover, barbarous fugitive! + Seek the rough Alps where snows eternal shine, + And joyless borders of the frozen Rhine. + Ah! may no cold e'er blast my dearest maid, + Nor pointed ice thy tender feet invade. WARTON. + +He then turns his thoughts on every side, in quest of something that may +solace or amuse him: he proposes happiness to himself, first in one +scene and then in another: and at last finds that nothing will satisfy: + + _Jam neque Hamadryades rursum, nec carmina nobis + Ipsa placent: ipsae rursum concedite sylvae. + Non illum nostri possunt mutare labores; + Nec si frigoribus mediis Hebrumque bibamus, + Sithoniasque nives hyemis subeamus aquosae: + Nec si, cum moriens alta liber aret in ulmo + Aethiopum versemus oves sub sidere Cancri. + Omnia vincit amor; et nos cedamns amori._ Ec. x. 62. + + But now again no more the woodland maids, + Nor pastoral songs delight--Farewell, ye shades-- + No toils of ours the cruel god can change, + Tho' lost in frozen deserts we should range; + Tho' we should drink where chilling Hebrus flows, + Endure bleak winter blasts, and Thracian snows: + Or on hot India's plains our flocks should feed, + Where the parch'd elm declines his sickening head, + Beneath fierce-glowing Cancer's fiery beams, + Far from cool breezes and refreshing streams. + Love over all maintains resistless sway, + And let us love's all-conquering power obey. WARTON. + +But notwithstanding the excellence of the tenth pastoral, I cannot +forbear to give the preference to the first, which is equally natural +and more diversified. The complaint of the shepherd, who saw his old +companion at ease in the shade, while himself was driving his little +flock he knew not whither, is such as, with variation of circumstances, +misery always utters at the sight of prosperity: + + _Nos patriae fines, et dulcia linquimus arra; + Nos patrium fugimus: Tu, Tityre, lentus in umbra + Formosam resonare doces Amaryllida sylvas._ Ec. i. 3. + + We leave our country's bounds, our much-lov'd plains; + We from our country fly, unhappy swains! + You, Tit'rus, in the groves at leisure laid, + Teach Amaryllis' name to every shade. WARTON. + +His account of the difficulties of his journey, gives a very tender +image of pastoral distress: + + --_En ipse capellas + Protenus aeger ago: hanc etiam vix, Tityre, duco: + Hic inter densas corylos modo namque gemellos, + Spem gregis, ah! silice in nuda connixa reliquit._ Ec. i. 12. + + And lo! sad partner of the general care, + Weary and faint I drive my goats afar! + While scarcely this my leading hand sustains, + Tired with the way, and recent from her pains; + For 'mid yon tangled hazels as we past, + On the bare flints her hapless twin she cast, + The hopes and promise of my ruin'd fold! WARTON. + +The description of Virgil's happiness in his little farm, combines +almost all the images of rural pleasure; and he, therefore, that can +read it with indifference, has no sense of pastoral poetry: + + _Fortunate senex! ergo tua rura manebunt, + Et tibi magna satis; quamvis lapis omnia nudus, + Limosoque palus obducat pascua junco: + Non insueta graves tentabunt pabula foetas, + Nec mala vicini pecoris contagia laedent. + Fortunate senex! hic inter flumina nota, + Et fontes sacros, frigus captabis opacum. + Hinc tibi, quae semper vicino ab limite sepes, + Hyblaeis apibus florem depasta salicti, + Saepe levi somnum suadebit inire susurro. + Hinc alta sub rupe canet frondator ad auras. + Nec tamen interea raucae, tua cura, palumbes, + Nec gemere aeria cessabit turtur ab ulmo._ Ec. i. 47 + + Happy old man! then still thy farms restored, + Enough for thee, shall bless thy frugal board. + What tho' rough stones the naked soil o'erspread, + Or marshy bulrush rear its wat'ry head, + No foreign food thy teeming ewes shall fear, + No touch contagious spread its influence here. + Happy old man! here 'mid th' accustom'd streams + And sacred springs, you'll shun the scorching beams; + While from yon willow-fence, thy picture's bound, + The bees that suck their flow'ry stores around, + Shall sweetly mingle with the whispering boughs + Their lulling murmurs, and invite repose: + While from steep rocks the pruner's song is heard; + Nor the soft-cooing dove, thy fav'rite bird, + Meanwhile shall cease to breathe her melting strain, + Nor turtles from th' aerial elm to 'plain. WARTON. + +It may be observed, that these two poems were produced by events that +really happened; and may, therefore, be of use to prove, that we can +always feel more than we can imagine, and that the most artful fiction +must give way to truth. + +I am, Sir, +Your humble servant, + +DUBIUS. + + + + +No. 95. TUESDAY, OCTOBER 2, 1753. + + --_Dulcique animos novitate tenebo_. OVID. Met. iv. 284. + + And with sweet novelty your soul detain. + +It is often charged upon writers, that with all their pretensions to +genius and discoveries, they do little more than copy one another; and +that compositions obtruded upon the world with the pomp of novelty, +contain only tedious repetitions of common sentiments, or at best +exhibit a transposition of known images, and give a new appearance to +truth only by some slight difference of dress and decoration. + +The allegation of resemblance between authors is indisputably true; but +the charge of plagiarism, which is raised upon it, is not to be allowed +with equal readiness. A coincidence of sentiment may easily happen +without any communication, since there are many occasions in which all +reasonable men will nearly think alike. Writers of all ages have had the +same sentiments, because they have in all ages had the same objects of +speculation; the interests and passions, the virtues and vices of +mankind, have been diversified in different times, only by unessential +and casual varieties: and we must, therefore, expect in the works of all +those who attempt to describe them, such a likeness as we find in the +pictures of the same person drawn in different periods of his life. + +It is necessary, therefore, that before an author be charged with +plagiarism, one of the most reproachful, though, perhaps, not the most +atrocious of literary crimes, the subject on which he treats should be +carefully considered. We do not wonder, that historians, relating the +same facts, agree in their narration; or that authors, delivering the +elements of science, advance the same theorems, and lay down the same +definitions: yet it is not wholly without use to mankind, that books are +multiplied, and that different authors lay out their labours on the same +subject; for there will always be some reason why one should on +particular occasions, or to particular persons, be preferable to +another; some will be clear where others are obscure, some will please +by their style and others by their method, some by their embellishments +and others by their simplicity, some by closeness and others by +diffusion. + +The same indulgence is to be shown to the writers of morality: right and +wrong are immutable; and those, therefore, who teach us to distinguish +them, if they all teach us right, must agree with one another. The +relations of social life, and the duties resulting from them, must be +the same at all times and in all nations: some petty differences may be, +indeed, produced, by forms of government or arbitrary customs; but the +general doctrine can receive no alteration. + +Yet it is not to be desired, that morality should be considered as +interdicted to all future writers: men will always be tempted to deviate +from their duty, and will, therefore, always want a monitor to recall +them; and a new book often seizes the attention of the publick, without +any other claim than that it is new. There is likewise in composition, +as in other things, a perpetual vicissitude of fashion; and truth is +recommended at one time to regard, by appearances which at another would +expose it to neglect; the author, therefore, who has judgment to discern +the taste of his contemporaries, and skill to gratify it, will have +always an opportunity to deserve well of mankind, by conveying +instruction to them in a grateful vehicle. + +There are likewise many modes of composition, by which a moralist may +deserve the name of an original writer: he may familiarize his system by +dialogues after the manner of the ancients, or subtilize it into a +series of syllogistick arguments: he may enforce his doctrine by +seriousness and solemnity, or enliven it by sprightliness and gaiety: he +may deliver his sentiments in naked precepts, or illustrate them by +historical examples: he may detain the studious by the artful +concatenation of a continued discourse, or relieve the busy by short +strictures, and unconnected essays. + +To excel in any of these forms of writing will require a particular +cultivation of the genius: whoever can attain to excellence, will be +certain to engage a set of readers, whom no other method would have +equally allured; and he that communicates truth with success, must be +numbered among the first benefactors to mankind. + +The same observation may be extended likewise to the passions: their +influence is uniform, and their effects nearly the same in every human +breast: a man loves and hates, desires and avoids, exactly like his +neighbour; resentment and ambition, avarice and indolence, discover +themselves by the same symptoms in minds distant a thousand years from +one another. + +Nothing, therefore, can be more unjust, than to charge an author with +plagiarism, merely because he assigns to every cause its natural effect; +and makes his personages act, as others in like circumstances have +always done. There are conceptions in which all men will agree, though +each derives them from his own observation: whoever has been in love, +will represent a lover impatient of every idea that interrupts his +meditations on his mistress, retiring to shades and solitude, that he +may muse without disturbance on his approaching happiness, or +associating himself with some friend that flatters his passion, and +talking away the hours of absence upon his darling subject. Whoever has +been so unhappy as to have felt the miseries of long-continued hatred, +will, without any assistance from ancient volumes, be able to relate how +the passions are kept in perpetual agitation, by the recollection of +injury and meditations of revenge; how the blood boils at the name of +the enemy, and life is worn away in contrivances of mischief. + +Every other passion is alike simple and limited, if it be considered +only with regard to the breast which it inhabits; the anatomy of the +mind, as that of the body, must perpetually exhibit the same +appearances; and though by the continued industry of successive +inquirers, new movements will be from time to time discovered, they can +affect only the minuter parts, and are commonly of more curiosity than +importance. + +It will now be natural to inquire, by what arts are the writers of the +present and future ages to attract the notice; and favour of mankind. +They are to observe the alterations which time is always making in the +modes of life, that they may gratify every generation with a picture of +themselves. Thus love is uniform, but courtship is perpetually varying: +the different arts of gallantry, which beauty has inspired, would of +themselves be sufficient to fill a volume; sometimes balls and +serenades, sometimes tournaments and adventures, have been employed to +melt the hearts of ladies, who in another century have been sensible of +scarce any other merit than that of riches, and listened only to +jointures and pin-money. Thus the ambitious man has at all times been +eager of wealth and power; but these hopes have been gratified in some +countries by supplicating the people, and in others by flattering the +prince: honour in some states has been only the reward of military +achievements, in others it has been gained by noisy turbulence and +popular clamour. Avarice has worn a different form, as she actuated the +usurer of Rome, and the stock-jobber of England; and idleness itself, +how little soever inclined to the trouble of invention, has been forced +from time to time to change its amusements, and contrive different +methods of wearing out the day. + +Here then is the fund, from which those who study mankind may fill their +compositions with an inexhaustible variety of images and allusions: and +he must be confessed to look with little attention upon scenes thus +perpetually changing, who cannot catch some of the figures before they +are made vulgar by reiterated descriptions. + +It has been discovered by Sir Isaac Newton, that the distinct and +primogenial colours are only seven; but every eye can witness, that from +various mixtures, in various proportions, infinite diversifications of +tints may be produced. In like manner, the passions of the mind, which +put the world in motion, and produce all the bustle and eagerness of the +busy crowds that swarm upon the earth; the passions, from whence arise +all the pleasures and pains that we see and hear of, if we analyze the +mind of man, are very few; but those few agitated and combined, as +external causes shall happen to operate, and modified by prevailing +opinions and accidental caprices, make such frequent alterations on the +surface of life, that the show, while we are busied in delineating it, +vanishes from the view, and a new set of objects succeed, doomed to the +same shortness of duration with the former: thus curiosity may always +find employment, and the busy part of mankind will furnish the +contemplative with the materials of speculation to the end of time. + +The complaint, therefore, that all topicks are preoccupied, is nothing +more than the murmur of ignorance or idleness, by which some discourage +others, and some themselves; the mutability of mankind will always +furnish writers with new images, and the luxuriance of fancy may always +embellish them with new decorations. + + + + +No. 99. TUESDAY, OCTOBER 16, 1753. + + --_Magnis tamen excidit ausis_. OVID. Met. Lib. ii. 328. + + But in the glorious enterprise he died. ADDISON. + +It has always been the practice of mankind, to judge of actions by the +event. The same attempts, conducted in the same manner, but terminated +by different success, produce different judgments: they who attain their +wishes, never want celebrators of their wisdom and their virtue; and +they that miscarry, are quickly discovered to have been defective not +only in mental but in moral qualities. The world will never be long +without some good reason to hate the unhappy; their real faults are +immediately detected; and if those are not sufficient to sink them into +infamy, an additional weight of calumny will be superadded: he that +fails in his endeavours after wealth or power, will not long retain +either honesty or courage. + +This species of injustice has so long prevailed in universal practice, +that it seems likewise to have infected speculation: so few minds are +able to separate the ideas of greatness and prosperity, that even Sir +William Temple has determined, "that he who can deserve the name of a +hero, must not only be virtuous but fortunate." + +By this unreasonable distribution of praise and blame, none have +suffered oftener than projectors, whose rapidity of imagination and +vastness of design raise such envy in their fellow mortals, that every +eye watches for their fall, and every heart exults at their distresses: +yet even a projector may gain favour by success; and the tongue that was +prepared to hiss, then endeavours to excel others in loudness of +applause. + +When Coriolanus, in Shakespeare, deserted to Aufidius, the Volscian +servants at first insulted him, even while he stood under the protection +of the household gods: but when they saw that the project took effect, +and the stranger was seated at the head of the table, one of them very +judiciously observes, "that he always thought there was more in him than +he could think." + +Machiavel has justly animadverted on the different notice taken by all +succeeding times, of the two great projectors, Cataline and Caesar. Both +formed the same project, and intended to raise themselves to power, by +subverting the commonwealth: they pursued their design, perhaps, with +equal abilities, and with equal virtue; but Cataline perished in the +field, and Caesar returned from Pharsalia with unlimited authority: and +from that time, every monarch of the earth has thought himself honoured +by a comparison with Caesar; and Cataline has been never mentioned, but +that his name might be applied to traitors and incendiaries. + +In an age more remote, Xerxes projected the conquest of Greece, and +brought down the power of Asia against it: but after the world had been +filled with expectation and terrour, his army was beaten, his fleet was +destroyed, and Xerxes has been never mentioned without contempt. + +A few years afterwards, Greece likewise had her turn of giving birth to +a projector; who invading Asia with a small army, went forward in search +of adventures, and by his escape from one danger, gained only more +rashness to rush into another: he stormed city after city, over-ran +kingdom after kingdom, fought battles only for barren victory, and +invaded nations only that he might make his way through them to new +invasions: but having been fortunate in the execution of his projects, +he died with the name of Alexander the Great. + +These are, indeed, events of ancient times; but human nature is always +the same, and every age will afford us instances of publick censures +influenced by events. The great business of the middle centuries, was +the holy war; which undoubtedly was a noble project, and was for a long +time prosecuted with a spirit equal to that with which it had been +contrived; but the ardour of the European heroes only hurried them to +destruction; for a long time they could not gain the territories for +which they fought, and, when at last gained, they could not keep them: +their expeditions, therefore, have been the scoff of idleness and +ignorance, their understanding and their virtue have been equally +vilified, their conduct has been ridiculed, and their cause has been +defamed. + +When Columbus had engaged king Ferdinand in the discovery of the other +hemisphere, the sailors, with whom he embarked in the expedition, had so +little confidence in their commander, that after having been long at sea +looking for coasts which they expected never to find, they raised a +general mutiny, and demanded to return. He found means to sooth them +into a permission to continue the same course three days longer, and on +the evening of the third day descried land. Had the impatience of his +crew denied him a few hours of the time requested, what had been his +fate but to have come back with the infamy of a vain projector, who had +betrayed the king's credulity to useless expenses, and risked his life +in seeking countries that had no existence? how would those that had +rejected his proposals have triumphed in their acuteness! and when would +his name have been mentioned, but with the makers of potable gold and +malleable glass? + +The last royal projectors with whom the world has been troubled, were +Charles of Sweden and the Czar of Muscovy. Charles, if any judgment may +be formed of his designs by his measures and his inquiries, had purposed +first to dethrone the Czar, then to lead his army through pathless +deserts into China, thence to make his way by the sword through the +whole circuit of Asia, and by the conquest of Turkey to unite Sweden +with his new dominions: but this mighty project was crushed at Pultowa; +and Charles has since been considered as a madman by those powers, who +sent their ambassadors to solicit his friendship, and their generals "to +learn under him the art of war." + +The Czar found employment sufficient in his own dominions, and amused +himself in digging canals, and building cities: murdering his subjects +with insufferable fatigues, and transplanting nations from one corner of +his dominions to another, without regretting the thousands that perished +on the way: but he attained his end, he made his people formidable, and +is numbered by fame among the demi-gods. + +I am far from intending to vindicate the sanguinary projects of heroes +and conquerors, and would wish rather to diminish the reputation of +their success, than the infamy of their miscarriages: for I cannot +conceive, why he that has burned cities, wasted nations, and filled the +world with horrour and desolation, should be more kindly regarded by +mankind, than he that died in the rudiments of wickedness; why he that +accomplished mischief should be glorious, and he that only endeavoured +it should be criminal. I would wish Caesar and Catiline, Xerxes and +Alexander, Charles and Peter, huddled together in obscurity or +detestation. + +But there is another species of projectors, to whom I would willingly +conciliate mankind; whose ends are generally laudable, and whose labours +are innocent; who are searching out new powers of nature, or contriving +new works of art; but who are yet persecuted with incessant obloquy, and +whom the universal contempt with which they are treated, often debars +from that success which their industry would obtain, if it were +permitted to act without opposition. + +They who find themselves inclined to censure new undertakings, only +because they are new, should consider, that the folly of projection is +very seldom the folly of a fool; it is commonly the ebullition of a +capacious mind, crowded with variety of knowledge, and heated with +intenseness of thought; it proceeds often from the consciousness of +uncommon powers, from the confidence of those, who having already done +much, are easily persuaded that they can do more. When Rowley had +completed the orrery, he attempted the perpetual motion; when Boyle had +exhausted the secrets of vulgar chymistry, he turned his thoughts to the +work of transmutation[1]. + +A projector generally unites those qualities which have the fairest +claim to veneration, extent of knowledge and greatness of design; it was +said of Catiline, "_immoderata, incredibilia, nimis alta semper +cupiebat_." Projectors of all kinds agree in their intellects, though +they differ in their morals; they all fail by attempting things beyond +their power, by despising vulgar attainments, and aspiring to +performances to which, perhaps, nature has not proportioned the force of +man: when they fail, therefore, they fail not by idleness or timidity, +but by rash adventure and fruitless diligence. + +That the attempts of such men will often miscarry, we may reasonably +expect; yet from such men, and such only, are we to hope for the +cultivation of those parts of nature which lie yet waste, and the +invention of those arts which are yet wanting to the felicity of life. +If they are, therefore, universally discouraged, art and discovery can +make no advances. Whatever is attempted without previous certainty of +success, may be considered as a project, and amongst narrow minds may, +therefore, expose its author to censure and contempt; and if the liberty +of laughing be once indulged, every man will laugh at what he does not +understand, every project will be considered as madness, and every great +or new design will be censured as a project. Men unaccustomed to reason +and researches, think every enterprise impracticable, which is extended +beyond common effects, or comprises many intermediate operations. Many +that presume to laugh at projectors, would consider a flight through the +air in a winged chariot, and the movement of a mighty engine by the +steam of water as equally the dreams of mechanick lunacy; and would +hear, with equal negligence, of the union of the Thames and Severn by a +canal, and the scheme of Albuquerque, the viceroy of the Indies, who in +the rage of hostility had contrived to make Egypt a barren desert, by +turning the Nile into the Red Sea. + +Those who have attempted much, have seldom failed to perform more than +those who never deviate from the common roads of action: many valuable +preparations of chymistry are supposed to have risen from unsuccessful +inquiries after the grand elixir: it is, therefore, just to encourage +those who endeavour to enlarge the power of art, since they often +succeed beyond expectation; and when they fail, may sometimes benefit +the world even by their miscarriages. + +[1] Sir Richard Steele was infatuated, with notions of Alchemy, and + wasted money in its visionary projects. He had a laboratory at + Poplar. Addisoniana, vol i. p. 10. + + The readers of Washington Irving's Brace-Bridge Hall will recollect + a pleasing and popular exposition of the alternately splendid and + benevolent, and always passionate reveries of the Alchemist, in the + affecting story of the Student of Salamanca. + + + + +No. 102. SATURDAY, OCTOBER 27, 1753. + + --_Quid tam dextro pede concipis, ut te + Conatus non poeniteat votique peracti?_ JUV. Sat. x. 5. + + What in the conduct of our life appears + So well design'd, so luckily begun, + But when we have our wish, we wish undone. DRYDEN. + +TO THE ADVENTURER. + +Sir, + +I have been for many years a trader in London. My beginning was narrow, +and my stock small; I was, therefore, a long time brow-beaten and +despised by those, who, having more money, thought they had more merit +than myself. I did not, however, suffer my resentment to instigate me to +any mean arts of supplantation, nor my eagerness of riches to betray me +to any indirect methods of gain; I pursued my business with incessant +assiduity, supported by the hope of being one day richer than those who +contemned me; and had, upon every annual review of my books, the +satisfaction of finding my fortune increased beyond my expectation. + +In a few years my industry and probity were fully recompensed, my wealth +was really great, and my reputation for wealth still greater. I had +large warehouses crowded with goods, and considerable sums in the +publick funds; I was caressed upon the Exchange by the most eminent +merchants; became the oracle of the common council; was solicited to +engage in all commercial undertakings; was flattered with the hopes of +becoming in a short time one of the directors of a wealthy company, and, +to complete my mercantile honours, enjoyed the expensive happiness of +fining for sheriff. + +Riches, you know, easily produce riches; when I had arrived to this +degree of wealth, I had no longer any obstruction or opposition to fear; +new acquisitions were hourly brought within my reach, and I continued +for some years longer to heap thousands upon thousands. + +At last I resolved to complete the circle of a citizen's prosperity by +the purchase of an estate in the country, and to close my life in +retirement. From the hour that this design entered my imagination, I +found the fatigues of my employment every day more oppressive, and +persuaded myself that I was no longer equal to perpetual attention, and +that my health would soon be destroyed by the torment and distraction of +extensive business. I could image to myself no happiness, but in vacant +jollity, and uninterrupted leisure: nor entertain my friends with any +other topick than the vexation and uncertainty of trade, and the +happiness of rural privacy. + +But, notwithstanding these declarations, I could not at once reconcile +myself to the thoughts of ceasing to get money; and though I was every +day inquiring for a purchase, I found some reason for rejecting all that +were offered me; and, indeed, had accumulated so many beauties and +conveniencies in my idea of the spot where I was finally to be happy, +that, perhaps, the world might have been travelled over without +discovery of a place which would not have been defective in some +particular. + +Thus I went on, still talking of retirement, and still refusing to +retire; my friends began to laugh at my delays, and I grew ashamed to +trifle longer with my own inclinations; an estate was at length +purchased, I transferred my stock to a prudent young man who had married +my daughter, went down into the country, and commenced lord of a +spacious manor. + +Here for some time I found happiness equal to my expectation. I reformed +the old house according to the advice of the best architects, I threw +down the walls of the garden, and enclosed it with palisades, planted +long avenues of trees, filled a green-house with exotick plants, dug a +new canal, and threw the earth into the old moat. + +The fame of these expensive improvements brought in all the country to +see the show. I entertained my visitors with great liberality, led them +round my gardens, showed them my apartments, laid before them plans for +new decorations, and was gratified by the wonder of some and the envy of +others. + +I was envied: but how little can one man judge of the condition of +another! The time was now coming, in which affluence and splendour could +no longer make me pleased with myself. I had built till the imagination +of the architect was exhausted; I had added one convenience to another, +till I knew not what more to wish or to design; I had laid out my +gardens, planted my park, and completed my water-works; and what now +remained to be done? what, but to look up to turrets, of which when they +were once raised I had no further use, to range over apartments where +time was tarnishing the furniture, to stand by the cascade of which I +scarcely now perceived the sound, and to watch the growth of woods that +must give their shade to a distant generation. + +In this gloomy inactivity, is every day begun and ended: the happiness +that I have been so long procuring is now at an end, because it has been +procured; I wander from room to room, till I am weary of myself; I ride +out to a neighbouring hill in the centre of my estate, from whence all +my lands lie in prospect round me; I see nothing that I have not seen +before, and return home disappointed, though I knew that I had nothing +to expect. + +In my happy days of business I had been accustomed to rise early in the +morning; and remember the time when I grieved that the night came so +soon upon me, and obliged me for a few hours to shut out affluence and +prosperity. I now seldom see the rising sun, but to "tell him," with the +fallen angel, "how I hate his beams[1]." I awake from sleep as to +languor or imprisonment, and have no employment for the first hour but +to consider by what art I shall rid myself of the second. I protract the +breakfast as long as I can, because when it is ended I have no call for +my attention, till I can with some degree of decency grow impatient for +my dinner. If I could dine all my life, I should be happy; I eat not +because I am hungry, but because I am idle: but, alas! the time quickly +comes when I can eat no longer; and so ill does my constitution second +my inclination, that I cannot bear strong liquors: seven hours must then +be endured before I shall sup; but supper comes at last, the more +welcome as it is in a short time succeeded by sleep. + +Such, Mr. Adventurer, is the happiness, the hope of which seduced me +from the duties and pleasures of a mercantile life. I shall be told by +those who read my narrative, that there are many means of innocent +amusement, and many schemes of useful employment, which I do not appear +ever to have known; and that nature and art have provided pleasures, by +which, without the drudgery of settled business, the active may be +engaged, the solitary soothed, and the social entertained. + +These arts, Sir, I have tried. When first I took possession of my +estate, in conformity to the taste of my neighbours, I bought guns and +nets, filled my kennel with dogs, and my stable with horses: but a +little experience showed me, that these instruments of rural felicity +would afford me few gratifications. I never shot but to miss the mark, +and, to confess the truth, was afraid of the fire of my own gun. I could +discover no musick in the cry of the dogs, nor could divest myself of +pity for the animal whose peaceful and inoffensive life was sacrificed +to our sport. I was not, indeed, always at leisure to reflect upon her +danger; for my horse, who had been bred to the chase, did not always +regard my choice either of speed or way, but leaped hedges and ditches +at his own discretion, and hurried me along with the dogs, to the great +diversion of my brother sportsmen. His eagerness of pursuit once incited +him to swim a river; and I had leisure to resolve in the water, that I +would never hazard my life again for the destruction of a hare. + +I then ordered books to be procured, and by the direction of the vicar +had in a few weeks a closet elegantly furnished. You will, perhaps, be +surprised when I shall tell you, that when once I had ranged them +according to their sizes, and piled them up in regular gradations, I had +received all the pleasure which they could give me. I am not able to +excite in myself any curiosity after events which have been long passed, +and in which I can, therefore, have no interest; I am utterly +unconcerned to know whether Tully or Demosthenes excelled in oratory, +whether Hannibal lost Italy by his own negligence or the corruption of +his countrymen. I have no skill in controversial learning, nor can +conceive why so many volumes should have been written upon questions, +which I have lived so long and so happily without understanding. I once +resolved to go through the volumes relating to the office of justice of +the peace, but found them so crabbed and intricate, that in less than a +month I desisted in despair, and resolved to supply my deficiencies by +paying a competent salary to a skilful clerk. + +I am naturally inclined to hospitality, and for some time kept up a +constant intercourse of visits with the neighbouring gentlemen; but +though they are easily brought about me by better wine than they can +find at any other house, I am not much relieved by their conversation; +they have no skill in commerce or the stocks, and I have no knowledge of +the history of families or the factions of the country; so that when the +first civilities are over, they usually talk to one another, and I am +left alone in the midst of the company. Though I cannot drink myself, I +am obliged to encourage the circulation of the glass; their mirth grows +more turbulent and obstreperous; and before their merriment is at an +end, I am sick with disgust, and, perhaps, reproached with my sobriety, +or by some sly insinuations insulted as a cit. + +Such, Mr. Adventurer, is the life to which I am condemned by a foolish +endeavour to be happy by imitation; such is the happiness to which I +pleased myself with approaching, and which I considered as the chief end +of my cares and my labours. I toiled year after year with cheerfulness, +in expectation of the happy hour in which I might be idle: the privilege +of idleness is attained, but has not brought with it the blessing of +tranquillity. + +I am yours, &c. +MERCATOR. + + +[1] Johnson was too apt to destroy the _keeping_ of character in his + correspondences. A retired trader might desire a little more + slumber, "a little folding of the hands to sleep;" but the lofty + malignity of a fallen spirit sickening at the beams of day, would + not be among the feelings of an ordinary mind. Some good remarks on + this point may be seen in Miss Talbot's Letters to Mrs. Carter. + + + + +No. 107. TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 13, 1753. + + --_Sub judice lis est._ HOR. De Ar. Poet. 78. + + And of their vain disputings find no end. FRANCIS. + +It has been sometimes asked by those who find the appearance of wisdom +more easily attained by questions than solutions, how it comes to pass, +that the world is divided by such difference of opinion? and why men, +equally reasonable, and equally lovers of truth, do not always think in +the same manner? + +With regard to simple propositions, where the terms are understood, and +the whole subject is comprehended at once, there is such an uniformity +of sentiment among all human beings, that, for many ages, a very +numerous set of notions were supposed to be innate, or necessarily +co-existent with the faculty of reason: it being imagined, that universal +agreement could proceed only from the invariable dictates of the +universal parent. + +In questions diffuse and compounded, this similarity of determination is +no longer to be expected. At our first sally into the intellectual +world, we all march together along one straight and open road; but as we +proceed further, and wider prospects open to our view, every eye fixes +upon a different scene; we divide into various paths, and, as we move +forward, are still at a greater distance from each other. As a question +becomes more complicated and involved, and extends to a greater number +of relations, disagreement of opinion will always be multiplied; not +because we are irrational, but because we are finite beings, furnished +with different kinds of knowledge, exerting different degrees of +attention, one discovering consequences which escape another, none +taking in the whole concatenation of causes and effects, and most +comprehending but a very small part, each comparing what he observes +with a different criterion, and each referring it to a different +purpose. + +Where, then, is the wonder, that they who see only a small part should +judge erroneously of the whole? or that they, who see different and +dissimilar parts, should judge differently from each other? + +Whatever has various respects, must have various appearances of good and +evil, beauty or deformity; thus, the gardener tears up as a weed, the +plant which the physician gathers as a medicine; and "a general," says +Sir Kenelm Digby, "will look with pleasure over a plain, as a fit place +on which the fate of empires might be decided in battle, which the +farmer will despise as bleak and barren, neither fruitful of pasturage, +nor fit for tillage[1]." + +Two men examining the same question proceed commonly like the physician +and gardener in selecting herbs, or the farmer and hero looking on the +plain; they bring minds impressed with different notions, and direct +their inquiries to different ends; they form, therefore, contrary +conclusions, and each wonders at the other's absurdity. + +We have less reason to be surprised or offended when we find others +differ from us in opinion, because we very often differ from ourselves. +How often we alter our minds, we do not always remark; because the +change is sometimes made imperceptibly and gradually, and the last +conviction effaces all memory of the former: yet every man, accustomed +from time to time to take a survey of his own notions, will by a slight +retrospection be able to discover, that his mind has suffered many +revolutions; that the same things have in the several parts of his life +been condemned and approved, pursued and shunned: and that on many +occasions, even when his practice has been steady, his mind has been +wavering, and he has persisted in a scheme of action, rather because he +feared the censure of inconstancy, than because he was always pleased +with his own choice. + +Of the different faces shown by the same objects, as they are viewed on +opposite sides, and of the different inclinations which they must +constantly raise in him that contemplates them, a more striking example +cannot easily be found than two Greek epigrammatists will afford us in +their accounts of human life, which I shall lay before the reader in +English prose. + +Posidippus, a comick poet, utters this complaint: "Through which of the +paths of life is it eligible to pass? In public assemblies are debates +and troublesome affairs: domestick privacies are haunted with anxieties; +in the country is labour; on the sea is terrour: in a foreign land, he +that has money must live in fear, he that wants it must pine in +distress: are you married? you are troubled with suspicions; are you +single? you languish in solitude; children occasion toil, and a +childless life is a state of destitution: the time of youth is a time of +folly, and gray hairs are loaded with infirmity. This choice only, +therefore, can be made, either never to receive being, or immediately to +lose it[2]." + +Such and so gloomy is the prospect, which Posidippus has laid before us. +But we are not to acquiesce too hastily in his determination against the +value of existence: for Metrodorus, a philosopher of Athens, has shown, +that life has pleasures as well as pains; and having exhibited the +present state of man in brighter colours, draws with equal appearance of +reason, a contrary conclusion. + +"You may pass well through any of the paths of life. In publick +assemblies are honours and transactions of wisdom; in domestick privacy +is stillness and quiet: in the country are the beauties of nature; on +the sea is the hope of gain: in a foreign land, he that is rich is +honoured, he that is poor may keep his poverty secret: are you married? +you have a cheerful house; are you single? you are unincumbered; +children are objects of affection, to be without children is to be +without care: the time of youth is the time of vigour, and gray hairs +are made venerable by piety. It will, therefore, never be a wise man's +choice, either not to obtain existence, or to lose it; for every state +of life has its felicity." + +In these epigrams are included most of the questions which have engaged +the speculations of the inquirers after happiness; and though they will +not much assist our determinations, they may, perhaps, equally promote +our quiet, by showing that no absolute determination ever can be formed. + +Whether a publick station or private life be desirable, has always been +debated. We see here both the allurements and discouragements of civil +employments; on one side there is trouble, on the other honour; the +management of affairs is vexatious and difficult, but it is the only +duty in which wisdom can be conspicuously displayed: it must then still +be left to every man to choose either ease or glory; nor can any general +precept be given, since no man can be happy by the prescription of +another. + +Thus, what is said of children by Posidippus, "that they are occasions +of fatigue," and by Metrodorus, "that they are objects of affection," is +equally certain; but whether they will give most pain or pleasure, must +depend on their future conduct and dispositions, on many causes over +which the parent can have little influence: there is, therefore, room +for all the caprices of imagination, and desire must be proportioned to +the hope or fear that shall happen to predominate. + +Such is the uncertainty in which we are always likely to remain with +regard to questions wherein we have most interest, and which every day +affords us fresh opportunity to examine: we may examine, indeed, but we +never can decide, because our faculties are unequal to the subject; we +see a little, and form an opinion; we see more, and change it. + +This inconstancy and unsteadiness, to which we must so often find +ourselves liable, ought certainly to teach us moderation and forbearance +towards those who cannot accommodate themselves to our sentiments: if +they are deceived, we have no right to attribute their mistake to +obstinacy or negligence, because we likewise have been mistaken; we may, +perhaps, again change our own opinion: and what excuse shall we be able +to find for aversion and malignity conceived against him, whom we shall +then find to have committed no fault, and who offended us only by +refusing to follow us into errour? + +It may likewise contribute to soften that resentment which pride +naturally raises against opposition, if we consider, that he who differs +from us, does not always contradict us; he has one view of an object, +and we have another; each describes what he sees with equal fidelity, +and each regulates his steps by his own eyes: one man with Posidippus, +looks on celibacy as a state of gloomy solitude, without a partner in +joy, or a comforter in sorrow; the other considers it, with Metrodorus, +as a state free from incumbrances, in which a man is at liberty to +choose his own gratifications, to remove from place to place in quest of +pleasure, and to think of nothing but merriment and diversion: full of +these notions one hastens to choose a wife, and the other laughs at his +rashness, or pities his ignorance; yet it is possible that each is +right, but that each is right only for himself. + +Life is not the object of science: we see a little, very little; and +what is beyond we only can conjecture. If we inquire of those who have +gone before us, we receive small satisfaction; some have travelled life +without observation, and some willingly mislead us. The only thought, +therefore, on which we can repose with comfort, is that which presents +to us the care of Providence, whose eye takes in the whole of things, +and under whose direction all involuntary errours will terminate in +happiness. + + +[1] Livy has described the Achaean leader, Philopaemen, as actually so + exercising his thoughts whilst he wandered among the rocky passes of + the Morea, xxxv. 28. In the graphic page of the Roman historian, as + in the stanzas of the "Ariosto of the North:" + + "From shingles grey the lances start, + The bracken bush sends forth the dart, + The rushes and the willow wand + Are bristling into axe and brand." + Lady of the Lake, Canto v. 9. + +[2] + "Count o'er the joys thine hours have seen, + Count o'er thy days from anguish free, + And know, whatever thou hast been, + 'Tis something better not to be." + Lord Byron's Euthanasia. + + Compare also the plaintive chorus in the Oedipus at Colonos, 1211. + Among the tragedies of Sophocles this stands forth a mass of + feeling. See Schlegel's remarks upon it in his Dramatic Literature. + + + + +No. 108. SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 17, 1753. + + _Nobis, quum semet occidit brevis lux, + Nox est perpetua una dormienda._ CATULLUS. Lib. v. El. v. + + When once the short-liv'd mortal dies, + A night eternal seals his eyes. ADDISON. + +It may have been observed by every reader, that there are certain +topicks which never are exhausted. Of some images and sentiments the +mind of man may be said to be enamoured; it meets them, however often +they occur, with the same ardour which a lover feels at the sight of his +mistress, and parts from them with the same regret when they can no +longer be enjoyed. + +Of this kind are many descriptions which the poets have transcribed from +each other, and their successors will probably copy to the end of time; +which will continue to engage, or, as the French term it, to flatter the +imagination, as long as human nature shall remain the same. + +When a poet mentions the spring, we know that the zephyrs are about to +whisper, that the groves are to recover their verdure, the linnets to +warble forth their notes of love, and the flocks and herds to frisk over +vales painted with flowers: yet, who is there so insensible of the +beauties of nature, so little delighted with the renovation of the +world, as not to feel his heart bound at the mention of the spring? + +When night overshadows a romantick scene, all is stillness, silence, and +quiet; the poets of the grove cease their melody, the moon towers over +the world in gentle majesty, men forget their labours and their cares, +and every passion and pursuit is for a while suspended. All this we know +already, yet we hear it repeated without weariness; because such is +generally the life of man, that he is pleased to think on the time when +he shall pause from a sense of his condition. + +When a poetical grove invites us to its covert, we know that we shall +find what we have already seen, a limpid brook murmuring over pebbles, a +bank diversified with flowers, a green arch that excludes the sun, and a +natural grot shaded with myrtles; yet who can forbear to enter the +pleasing gloom to enjoy coolness and privacy, and gratify himself once +more by scenes with which nature has formed him to be delighted? + +Many moral sentiments likewise are so adapted to our state, that they +find approbation whenever they solicit it, and are seldom read without +exciting a gentle emotion in the mind: such is the comparison of the +life of man with the duration of a flower, a thought which perhaps every +nation has heard warbled in its own language, from the inspired poets of +the Hebrews to our own times; yet this comparion must always please, +because every heart feels its justness, and every hour confirms it by +example. + +Such, likewise, is the precept that directs us to use the present hour, +and refer nothing to a distant time, which we are uncertain whether we +shall reach: this every moralist may venture to inculcate, because it +will always be approved, and because it is always forgotten. + +This rule is, indeed, every day enforced, by arguments more powerful +than the dissertations of moralists: we see men pleasing themselves with +future happiness, fixing a certain hour for the completion of their +wishes, and perishing, some at a greater and some at a less distance +from the happy time; all complaining of their disappointments, and +lamenting that they had suffered the years which heaven allowed them, to +pass without improvement, and deferred the principal purpose of their +lives to the time when life itself was to forsake them. + +It is not only uncertain, whether, through all the casualties and +dangers which beset the life of man, we shall be able to reach the time +appointed for happiness or wisdom; but it is likely, that whatever now +hinders us from doing that which our reason and conscience declare +necessary to be done, will equally obstruct us in times to come. It is +easy for the imagination, operating on things not yet existing, to +please itself with scenes of unmingled felicity, or plan out courses of +uniform virtue; but good and evil are in real life inseparably united; +habits grow stronger by indulgence; and reason loses her dignity, in +proportion as she has oftener yielded to temptation: "he that cannot +live well to-day," says Martial, "will be less qualified to live well +to-morrow." + +Of the uncertainty of every human good, every human being seems to be +convinced; yet this uncertainty is voluntarily increased by unnecessary +delay, whether we respect external causes, or consider the nature of our +own minds. He that now feels a desire to do right, and wishes to +regulate his life according to his reason, is not sure that, at any +future time assignable, he shall be able to rekindle the same ardour; he +that has now an opportunity offered him of breaking loose from vice and +folly, cannot know, but that he shall hereafter be more entangled, and +struggle for freedom without obtaining it. + +We are so unwilling to believe any thing to our own disadvantage, that +we will always imagine the perspicacity of our judgment and the strength +of our resolution more likely to increase than to grow less by time; +and, therefore, conclude, that the will to pursue laudable purposes, +will be always seconded by the power. + +But, however we may be deceived in calculating the strength of our +faculties, we cannot doubt the uncertainty of that life in which they +must be employed: we see every day the unexpected death of our friends +and our enemies, we see new graves hourly opened for men older and +younger than ourselves, for the cautious and the careless, the dissolute +and the temperate, for men who like us were providing to enjoy or +improve hours now irreversibly cut off: we see all this, and yet, +instead of living, let year glide after year in preparations to live. + +Men are so frequently cut off in the midst of their projections, that +sudden death causes little emotion in them that behold it, unless it be +impressed upon the attention by uncommon circumstances. I, like every +other man, have outlived multitudes, have seen ambition sink in its +triumphs, and beauty perish in its bloom; but have been seldom so much +affected as by the fate of Euryalus, whom I lately lost as I began to +love him. + +Euryalus had for some time flourished in a lucrative profession; but +having suffered his imagination to be fired by an unextinguishable +curiosity, he grew weary of the same dull round of life, resolved to +harass himself no longer with the drudgery of getting money, but to quit +his business and his profit, and enjoy for a few years the pleasures of +travel. His friends heard him proclaim his resolution without suspecting +that he intended to pursue it; but he was constant to his purpose, and +with great expedition closed his accounts and sold his moveables, passed +a few days in bidding farewell to his companions, and with all the +eagerness of romantick chivalry crossed the sea in search of happiness. +Whatever place was renowned in ancient or modern history, whatever +region art or nature had distinguished, he determined to visit: full of +design and hope he lauded on the continent; his friends expected +accounts from him of the new scenes that opened in his progress, but +were informed in a few days, that Euryalus was dead. + +Such was the end of Euryalus. He is entered that state, whence none ever +shall return; and can now only benefit his friends, by remaining to +their memories a permanent and efficacious instance of the blindness of +desire, and the uncertainty of all terrestrial good. But perhaps, every +man has like me lost an Euryalus, has known a friend die with happiness +in his grasp; and yet every man continues to think himself secure of +life, and defers to some future time of leisure what he knows it will be +fatal to have finally omitted. + +It is, indeed, with this as with other frailties inherent in our nature; +the desire of deferring to another time, what cannot be done without +endurance of some pain, or forbearance of some pleasure, will, perhaps, +never be totally overcome or suppressed; there will always be something +that we shall wish to have finished, and be nevertheless unwilling to +begin: but against this unwillingness it is our duty to struggle, and +every conquest over our passions will make way for an easier conquest: +custom is equally forcible to bad and good; nature will always be at +variance with reason, but will rebel more feebly as she is oftener +subdued. + +The common neglect of the present hour is more shameful and criminal, as +no man is betrayed to it by errour, but admits it by negligence. Of the +instability of life, the weakest understanding never thinks wrong, +though the strongest often omits to think justly: reason and experience +are always ready to inform us of our real state; but we refuse to listen +to their suggestions, because we feel our hearts unwilling to obey them: +but, surely, nothing is more unworthy of a reasonable being, than to +shut his eyes, when he sees the road which he is commanded to travel, +that he may deviate with fewer reproaches from himself: nor could any +motive to tenderness, except the consciousness that we have all been +guilty of the same fault, dispose us to pity those who thus consign +themselves to voluntary ruin. + + + + +No. 111. TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 27, 1753. + + --Quae non fecimus ipsi, + Vix ea nostra voco. OVID. + + The deeds of long descended ancestors + Are but by grace of imputation ours. DRYDEN + +The evils inseparably annexed to the present condition of man, are so +numerous and afflictive, that it has been, from age to age, the task of +some to bewail, and of others to solace them; and he, therefore, will be +in danger of seeing a common enemy, who shall attempt to depreciate the +few pleasures and felicities which nature has allowed us. + +Yet I will confess, that I have sometimes employed my thoughts in +examining the pretensions that are made to happiness, by the splendid +and envied condition of life; and have not thought the hour unprofitably +spent, when I have detected the imposture of counterfeit advantages, and +found disquiet lurking under false appearances of gaiety and greatness. + +It is asserted by a tragick poet, that _est miser nemo nisi comparatus_, +"no man is miserable, but as he is compared with others happier than +himself:" this position is not strictly and philosophically true. He +might have said, with rigorous propriety, that no man is happy but as he +is compared with the miserable; for such is the state of this world, +that we find in it absolute misery, but happiness only comparative; we +may incur as much pain as we can possibly endure, though we can never +obtain as much happiness as we might possibly enjoy. + +Yet it is certain, likewise, that many of our miseries are merely +comparative: we are often made unhappy, not by the presence of any real +evil, but by the absence of some fictitious good; of something which is +not required by any real want of nature, which has not in itself any +power of gratification, and which neither reason nor fancy would have +prompted us to wish, did we not see it in the possession of others. + +For a mind diseased with vain longings after unattainable advantages, no +medicine can be prescribed, but an impartial inquiry into the real worth +of that which is so ardently desired. It is well known, how much the +mind, as well as the eye, is deceived by distance; and, perhaps, it will +be found, that of many imagined blessings it may be doubted, whether he +that wants or possesses them has more reason to be satisfied with his +lot. + +The dignity of high birth and long extraction, no man, to whom nature +has denied it, can confer upon himself; and, therefore, it deserves to +be considered, whether the want of that which can never be gained, may +not easily be endured. It is true, that if we consider the triumph and +delight with which most of those recount their ancestors, who have +ancestors to recount, and the artifices by which some who have risen to +unexpected fortune endeavour to insert themselves into an honourable +stem, we shall be inclined to fancy that wisdom or virtue may be had by +inheritance, or that all the excellencies of a line of progenitors are +accumulated on their descendant. Reason, indeed, will soon inform us, +that our estimation of birth is arbitrary and capricious, and that dead +ancestors can have no influence but upon imagination; let it then be +examined, whether one dream may not operate in the place of another; +whether he that owes nothing to forefathers, may not receive equal +pleasure from the consciousness of owing all to himself; whether he may +not, with a little meditation, find it more honourable to found than to +continue a family, and to gain dignity than transmit it; whether, if he +receives no dignity from the virtues of his family, he does not likewise +escape the danger of being disgraced by their crimes; and whether he +that brings a new name into the world, has not the convenience of +playing the game of life without a stake, and opportunity of winning +much though he has nothing to lose. + +There is another opinion concerning happiness, which approaches much +more nearly to universality, but which may, perhaps, with equal reason +be disputed. The pretensions to ancestral honours many of the sons of +earth easily see to be ill-grounded; but all agree to celebrate the +advantage of hereditary riches, and to consider those as the minions of +fortune, who are wealthy from their cradles, whose estate is _res non +parta labore, sed relicta_; "the acquisition of another, not of +themselves;" and whom a father's industry has dispensed from a laborious +attention to arts or commerce, and left at liberty to dispose of life as +fancy shall direct them. + +If every man were wise and virtuous, capable to discern the best use of +time, and resolute to practise it, it might be granted, I think, without +hesitation, that total liberty would be a blessing; and that it would be +desirable to be left at large to the exercise of religious and social +duties, without the interruption of importunate avocations. + +But, since felicity is relative, and that which is the means of +happiness to one man may be to another the cause of misery, we are to +consider, what state is best adapted to human nature in its present +degeneracy and frailty. And, surely, to far the greater number it is +highly expedient, that they should by some settled scheme of duties be +rescued from the tyranny of caprice, that they should be driven on by +necessity through the paths of life with their attention confined to a +stated task, that they may be less at leisure to deviate into mischief +at the call of folly. + +When we observe the lives of those whom an ample inheritance has let +loose to their own direction, what do we discover that can excite our +envy? Their time seems not to pass with much applause from others, or +satisfaction to themselves: many squander their exuberance of fortune in +luxury and debauchery, and have no other use of money than to inflame +their passions, and riot in a wide range of licentiousness; others, less +criminal indeed, but surely not much to be praised, lie down to sleep, +and rise up to trifle, are employed every morning in finding expedients +to rid themselves of the day, chase pleasure through all the places of +publick resort, fly from London to Bath, and from Bath to London, +without any other reason for changing place, but that they go in quest +of company as idle and as vagrant as themselves, always endeavouring to +raise some new desire, that they may have something to pursue, to +rekindle some hope which they know will be disappointed, changing one +amusement for another which a few months will make equally insipid, or +sinking into languor and disease for want of something to actuate their +bodies or exhilarate their minds. + +Whoever has frequented those places, where idlers assemble to escape +from solitude, knows that this is generally the state of the wealthy; +and from this state it is no great hardship to be debarred. No man can +be happy in total idleness: he that should be condemned to lie torpid +and motionless, "would fly for recreation," says South, "to the mines +and the galleys;" and it is well, when nature or fortune find employment +for those, who would not have known how to procure it for themselves. + +He, whose mind is engaged by the acquisition or improvement of a +fortune, not only escapes the insipidity of indifference, and the +tediousness of inactivity, but gains enjoyments wholly unknown to those, +who live lazily on the toil of others; for life affords no higher +pleasure than that of surmounting difficulties, passing from one step of +success to another, forming new wishes, and seeing them gratified. He +that labours in any great or laudable undertaking, has his fatigues +first supported by hope, and afterwards rewarded by joy; he is always +moving to a certain end, and when he has attained it, an end more +distant invites him to a new pursuit. + +It does not, indeed, always happen, that diligence is fortunate; the +wisest schemes are broken by unexpected accidents; the most constant +perseverance sometimes toils through life without a recompense; but +labour, though unsuccessful, is more eligible than idleness; he that +prosecutes a lawful purpose by lawful means, acts always with the +approbation of his own reason; he is animated through the course of his +endeavours by an expectation which, though not certain, he knows to be +just; and is at last comforted in his disappointment, by the +consciousness that he has not failed by his own fault. + +That kind of life is most happy which affords us most opportunities of +gaining our own esteem; and what can any man infer in his own favour +from a condition to which, however prosperous, he contributed nothing, +and which the vilest and weakest of the species would have obtained by +the same right, had he happened to be the son of the same father? + +To strive with difficulties, and to conquer them, is the highest human +felicity; the next is, to strive, and deserve to conquer: but he whose +life has passed without a contest, and who can boast neither success nor +merit, can survey himself only as a useless filler of existence; and if +he is content with his own character, must owe his satisfaction to +insensibility. + +Thus it appears that the satirist advised rightly, when he directed us +to resign ourselves to the hands of Heaven, and to leave to superior +powers the determination of our lot: + + _Permittes ipsis expendere Numinibus, quid + Conveniat nobis, rebusque sit utile nostris:-- + Carior est illis homo quam sibi._ JUV. Sat. x. 347. + + Intrust thy fortune to the Pow'rs above: + Leave them to manage for thee, and to grant + What their unerring wisdom sees the want. + In goodness as in greatness they excel: + Ah! that we lov'd ourselves but half so well. DRYDEN. + +What state of life admits most happiness, is uncertain; but that +uncertainty ought to repress the petulance of comparison, and silence +the murmurs of discontent. + + + + +No. 115. TUESDAY, DECEMBER 11, 1753. + + _Scribimus indocti doctique._ HOR. Lib. ii. Ep. i. 17. + + All dare to write, who can or cannot read. + +They who have attentively considered the history of mankind, know that +every age has its peculiar character. At one time, no desire is felt but +for military honours; every summer affords battles and sieges, and the +world is filled with ravage, bloodshed, and devastation: this sanguinary +fury at length subsides, and nations are divided into factions, by +controversies about points that will never be decided. Men then grow +weary of debate and altercation, and apply themselves to the arts of +profit; trading companies are formed, manufactures improved, and +navigation extended; and nothing is any longer thought on, but the +increase and preservation of property, the artifices of getting money, +and the pleasures of spending it. + +The present age, if we consider chiefly the state of our own country, +may be styled, with great propriety, _The Age of Authors_[1]; for, +perhaps, there never was a time in which men of all degrees of ability, +of every kind of education, of every profession and employment, were +posting with ardour so general to the press. The province of writing was +formerly left to those, who by study, or appearance of study, were +supposed to have gained knowledge unattainable by the busy part of +mankind; but in these enlightened days, every man is qualified to +instruct every other man: and he that beats the anvil, or guides the +plough, not content with supplying corporal necessities, amuses himself +in the hours of leisure with providing intellectual pleasures for his +countrymen. + +It may be observed, that of this, as of other evils, complaints have +been made by every generation: but though it may, perhaps, be true, that +at all times more have been willing than have been able to write, yet +there is no reason for believing, that the dogmatical legions of the +present race were ever equalled in number by any former period: for so +widely is spread the itch of literary praise, that almost every man is +an author, either in act or in purpose: has either bestowed his favours +on the publick, or withholds them, that they may be more seasonably +offered, or made more worthy of acceptance. + +In former times, the pen, like the sword, was considered as consigned by +nature to the hands of men; the ladies contented themselves with private +virtues and domestick excellence; and a female writer, like a female +warrior, was considered as a kind of eccentrick being, that deviated, +however illustriously, from her due sphere of motion, and was, +therefore, rather to be gazed at with wonder, than countenanced by +imitation. But as in the times past are said to have been a nation of +Amazons, who drew the bow and wielded the battle-axe, formed encampments +and wasted nations, the revolution of years has now produced a +generation of Amazons of the pen, who with the spirit of their +predecessors have set masculine tyranny at defiance, asserted their +claim to the regions of science, and seem resolved to contest the +usurpations of virility. + +Some indeed there are, of both sexes, who are authors only in desire, +but have not yet attained the power of executing their intentions; whose +performances have not arrived at bulk sufficient to form a volume, or +who have not the confidence, however impatient of nameless obscurity, to +solicit openly the assistance of the printer. Among these are the +innumerable correspondents of publick papers, who are always offering +assistance which no man will receive, and suggesting hints that are +never taken; and who complain loudly of the perverseness and arrogance +of authors, lament their insensibility of their own interest, and fill +the coffee-houses with dark stories of performances by eminent hands, +which have been offered and rejected. + +To what cause this universal eagerness of writing can be properly +ascribed, I have not yet been able to discover. It is said, that every +art is propagated in proportion to the rewards conferred upon it; a +position from which a stranger would naturally infer, that literature +was now blessed with patronage far transcending the candour or +munificence of the Augustan age, that the road to greatness was open to +none but authors, and that by writing alone riches and honour were to be +obtained. + +But since it is true, that writers, like other competitors, are very +little disposed to favour one another, it is not to be expected, that at +a time when every man writes, any man will patronize; and, accordingly, +there is not one that I can recollect at present, who professes the +least regard for the votaries of science, invites the addresses of +learned men, or seems to hope for reputation from any pen but his own. + +The cause, therefore, of this epidemical conspiracy for the destruction +of paper, must remain a secret: nor can I discover, whether we owe it to +the influences of the constellations, or the intemperature of seasons: +whether the long continuance of the wind at any single point, or +intoxicating vapours exhaled from the earth, have turned our nobles and +our peasants, our soldiers and traders, our men and women, all into +wits, philosophers, and writers. + +It is, indeed, of more importance to search out the cure than the cause +of this intellectual malady; and he would deserve well of this country, +who, instead of amusing himself with conjectural speculations, should +find means of persuading the peer to inspect his steward's accounts, or +repair the rural mansion of his ancestors; who could replace the +tradesman behind his counter, and send back the farmer to the mattock +and the flail. + +General irregularities are known in time to remedy themselves. By the +constitution of ancient Egypt, the priesthood was continually +increasing, till at length there was no people beside themselves; the +establishment was then dissolved, and the number of priests was reduced +and limited. Thus among us, writers will, perhaps, be multiplied, till +no readers will be found, and then the ambition of writing must +necessarily cease. + +But as it will be long before the cure is thus gradually effected, and +the evil should be stopped, if it be possible, before it rises to so +great a height, I could wish that both sexes would fix their thoughts +upon some salutary considerations, which might repress their ardour for +that reputation, which not one of many thousands is fated to obtain. + +Let it be deeply impressed, and frequently recollected, that he who has +not obtained the proper qualifications of an author, can have no excuse +for the arrogance of writing, but the power of imparting to mankind +something necessary to be known. A man uneducated or unlettered may +sometimes start a useful thought, or make a lucky discovery, or obtain +by chance some secret of nature, or some intelligence of facts, of which +the most enlightened mind may be ignorant, and which it is better to +reveal, though by a rude and unskilful communication, than to lose for +ever by suppressing it. + +But few will be justified by this plea; for of the innumerable books and +pamphlets that have overflowed the nation, scarce one has made any +addition to real knowledge, or contained more than a transposition of +common sentiments, and a repetition of common phrases. + +It will be naturally inquired, when the man who feels an inclination to +write, may venture to suppose himself properly qualified; and, since +every man is inclined to think well of his own intellect, by what test +he may try his abilities, without hazarding the contempt or resentment +of the publick. + +The first qualification of a writer is a perfect knowledge of the +subject which he undertakes to treat; since we cannot teach what we do +not know, nor can properly undertake to instruct others while we are +ourselves in want of instruction. The next requisite is, that he be +master of the language in which he delivers his sentiments: if he treats +of science and demonstration, that he has attained a style clear, pure, +nervous, and expressive; if his topicks be probable and persuasory, that +he be able to recommend them by the superaddition of elegance and +imagery, to display the colours of varied diction, and pour forth the +musick of modulated periods. + +If it be again inquired, upon what principles any man shall conclude +that he wants those powers, it may be readily answered, that no end is +attained but by the proper means; he only can rationally presume that he +understands a subject, who has read and compared the writers that have +hitherto discussed it, familiarized their arguments to himself by long +meditation, consulted the foundations of different systems, and +separated truth from errour by a rigorous examination. + +In like manner, he only has a right to suppose that he can express his +thoughts, whatever they are, with perspicuity or elegance, who has +carefully perused the best authors, accurately noted their diversities +of style, diligently selected the best modes of diction, and +familiarized them by long habits of attentive practice. + +No man is a rhetorician or philosopher by chance. He who knows that he +undertakes to write on questions which he has never studied, may without +hesitation determine, that he is about to waste his own time and that of +his reader, and expose himself to the derision of those whom he aspires +to instruct: he that without forming his style by the study of the best +models hastens to obtrude his compositions on the publick, may be +certain, that whatever hope or flattery may suggest, he shall shock the +learned ear with barbarisms, and contribute, wherever his work shall be +received, to the depravation of taste and the corruption of language. + +[1] See Knox. Essay 50. + + + + +No. 119. TUESDAY, DECEMBER 25, 1753. + + _Latius regnes, avidum domando + Spiritum, quam si Libyam remotis + Gadibus jungas, et uterque Poenus + Serviat uni._ Hor. Lib. ii. Ode ii. 9. + + By virtue's precepts to controul + The thirsty cravings of the soul, + Is over wider realms to reign + Unenvied monarch, than if Spain + You could to distant Lybia join, + And both the Carthages were thine. FRANCIS. + +When Socrates was asked, "which of mortal men was to be accounted +nearest to the _gods_ in happiness?" he answered, "that man who is in +want of the fewest things." + +In this answer, Socrates left it to be guessed by his auditors, whether, +by the exemption from want which was to constitute happiness, he meant +amplitude of possessions or contraction of desire. And, indeed, there is +so little difference between them, that Alexander the Great confessed +the inhabitant of a tub the next man to the master of the world; and +left a declaration to future ages, that if he was not Alexander he +should wish to be Diogenes. + +These two states, however, though they resemble each other in their +consequence, differ widely with respect to the facility with which they +may be attained. To make great acquisitions can happen to very few; and +in the uncertainty of human affairs, to many it will be incident to +labour without reward, and to lose what they already possess by +endeavours to make it more: some will always want abilities, and others +opportunities to accumulate wealth. It is therefore happy, that nature +has allowed us a more certain and easy road to plenty; every man may +grow rich by contracting his wishes, and by quiet acquiescence in what +has been given him, supply the absence of more. + +Yet so far is almost every man from emulating the happiness of the gods, +by any other means than grasping at their power, that it seems to be the +great business of life to create wants as fast as they are satisfied. It +has been long observed by moralists, that every man squanders or loses a +great part of that life, of which every man knows and deplores the +shortness: and it may be remarked with equal justness, that though every +man laments his own insufficiency to his happiness, and knows himself a +necessitous and precarious being, incessantly soliciting the assistance +of others, and feeling wants which his own art or strength cannot +supply; yet there is no man, who does not, by the superaddition of +unnatural cares, render himself still more dependent; who does not +create an artificial poverty, and suffer himself to feel pain for the +want of that, of which, when it is gained, he can have no enjoyment. + +It must, indeed, be allowed, that as we lose part of our time because it +steals away silent and invisible, and many an hour is passed before we +recollect that it is passing; so unnatural desires insinuate themselves +unobserved into the mind, and we do not perceive that they are gaining +upon us, till the pain which they give us awakens us to notice. No man +is sufficiently vigilant to take account of every minute of his life, or +to watch every motion of his heart. Much of our time likewise is +sacrificed to custom; we trifle, because we see others trifle; in the +same manner we catch from example the contagion of desire; we see all +about us busied in pursuit of imaginary good, and begin to bustle in the +same chase, lest greater activity should triumph over us. + +It is true, that to man as a member of society, many things become +necessary, which, perhaps, in a state of nature are superfluous; and +that many things, not absolutely necessary, are yet so useful and +convenient, that they cannot easily be spared. I will make yet a more +ample and liberal concession. In opulent states, and regular +governments, the temptations to wealth and rank, and to the distinctions +that follow them, are such as no force of understanding finds it easy to +resist. + +If, therefore, I saw the quiet of life disturbed only by endeavours +after wealth and honour; by solicitude, which the world, whether justly +or not, considered as important; I should scarcely have had courage to +inculcate any precepts of moderation and forbearance. He that is engaged +in a pursuit, in which all mankind profess to be his rivals, is +supported by the authority of all mankind in the prosecution of his +design, and will, therefore, scarcely stop to hear the lectures of a +solitary philosopher. Nor am I certain, that the accumulation of honest +gain ought to be hindered, or the ambition of just honours always to be +repressed. Whatever can enable the possessor to confer any benefit upon +others, may be desired upon virtuous principles; and we ought not too +rashly to accuse any man of intending to confine the influence of his +acquisitions to himself. + +But if we look round upon mankind, whom shall we find among those that +fortune permits to form their own manners, that is not tormenting +himself with a wish for something, of which all the pleasure and all the +benefit will cease at the moment of attainment? One man is beggaring his +posterity to build a house, which when finished he never will inhabit; +another is levelling mountains to open a prospect, which, when he has +once enjoyed it, he can enjoy it no more; another is painting ceilings, +carving wainscot, and filling his apartments with costly furniture, only +that some neighbouring house may not be richer or finer than his own. + +That splendour and elegance are not desirable, I am not so abstracted +from life to inculcate; but if we inquire closely into the reason for +which they are esteemed, we shall find them valued principally as +evidences of wealth. Nothing, therefore, can show greater depravity of +understanding, than to delight in the show when the reality is wanting; +or voluntarily to become poor, that strangers may for a time imagine us +to be rich. + +But there are yet minuter objects and more trifling anxieties. Men may +be found, who are kept from sleep by the want of a shell particularly +variegated! who are wasting their lives, in stratagems to obtain a book +in a language which they do not understand; who pine with envy at the +flowers of another man's parterre; who hover like vultures round the +owner of a fossil, in hopes to plunder his cabinet at his death; and who +would not much regret to see a street in flames, if a box of medals +might be scattered in the tumult. + +He that imagines me to speak of these sages in terms exaggerated and +hyperbolical, has conversed but little with the race of virtuosos. A +slight acquaintance with their studies, and a few visits to their +assemblies, would inform him, that nothing is so worthless, but that +prejudice and caprice can give it value; nor any thing of so little use, +but that by indulging an idle competition or unreasonable pride, a man +may make it to himself one of the necessaries of life. + +Desires like these, I may surely, without incurring the censure of +moroseness, advise every man to repel when they invade his mind; or if +he admits them, never to allow them any greater influence than is +necessary to give petty employments the power of pleasing, and diversify +the day with slight amusements. + +An ardent wish, whatever be its object, will always be able to interrupt +tranquillity. What we believe ourselves to want, torments us not in +proportion to its real value, but according to the estimation by which +we have rated it in our own minds; in some diseases, the patient has +been observed to long for food, which scarce any extremity of hunger +would in health have compelled him to swallow; but while his organs were +thus depraved, the craving was irresistible, nor could any rest be +obtained till it was appeased by compliance. Of the same nature are the +irregular appetites of the mind; though they are often excited by +trifles, they are equally disquieting with real wants: the Roman, who +wept at the death of his lamprey, felt the same degree of sorrow that +extorts tears on other occasions. + +Inordinate desires, of whatever kind, ought to be repressed upon yet a +higher consideration; they must be considered as enemies not only to +happiness but to virtue. There are men, among those commonly reckoned +the learned and the wise, who spare no stratagems to remove a competitor +at an auction, who will sink the price of a rarity at the expense of +truth, and whom it is not safe to trust alone in a library or cabinet. +These are faults, which the fraternity seem to look upon as jocular +mischiefs, or to think excused by the violence of the temptation: but I +shall always fear that he, who accustoms himself to fraud in little +things, wants only opportunity to practise it in greater; "he that has +hardened himself by killing a sheep," says Pythagoras, "will with less +reluctance shed the blood of a man." + +To prize every thing according to its _real_ use ought to be the aim of +a rational being. There are few things which can much conduce to +happiness, and, therefore, few things to be ardently desired. He that +looks upon the business and bustle of the world, with the philosophy +with which Socrates surveyed the fair at Athens, will turn away at last +with his exclamation, "How many things are here which I do not want!" + + + + +No. 120. SATURDAY, DECEMBER 29, 1753. + +_--Ultima semper + Expectanda dies homini: dicique beatus + Ante obitum nemo supremaque funera debet._ OVID. Met. Lib. iii. 135. + + But no frail man, however great or high, + Can be concluded blest before he die. ADDISON. + +The numerous miseries of human life have extorted in all ages an +universal complaint. The wisest of men terminated all his experiments in +search of happiness, by the mournful confession, that "all is vanity;" +and the ancient patriarchs lamented, that "the days of their pilgrimage +were few and evil." + +There is, indeed, no topick on which it is more superfluous to +accumulate authorities, nor any assertion of which our own eyes will +more easily discover, or our sensations more frequently impress the +truth, than, that misery is the lot of man, that our present state is a +state of danger and infelicity. + +When we take the most distant prospect of life, what does it present us +but a chaos of unhappiness, a confused and tumultuous scene of labour +and contest, disappointment and defeat? If we view past ages in the +reflection of history, what do they offer to our meditation but crimes +and calamities? One year is distinguished by a famine, another by an +earthquake; kingdoms are made desolate, sometimes by wars, and sometimes +by pestilence; the peace of the world is interrupted at one time by the +caprices of a tyrant, at another by the rage of the conqueror. The +memory is stored only with vicissitudes of evil; and the happiness, such +as it is, of one part of mankind, is found to arise commonly from +sanguinary success, from victories which confer upon them the power, not +so much of improving life by any new enjoyment, as of inflicting misery +on others, and gratifying their own pride by comparative greatness. + +But by him that examines life with a more close attention, the happiness +of the world will be found still less than it appears. In some intervals +of publick prosperity, or to use terms more proper, in some +intermissions of calamity, a general diffusion of happiness may seem to +overspread a people; all is triumph and exultation, jollity and plenty; +there are no publick fears and dangers, and "no complainings in the +streets." But the condition of individuals is very little mended by this +general calm: pain and malice and discontent still continue their +havock; the silent depredation goes incessantly forward; and the grave +continues to be filled by the victims of sorrow. + +He that enters a gay assembly, beholds the cheerfulness displayed in +every countenance, and finds all sitting vacant and disengaged, with no +other attention than to give or to receive pleasure, would naturally +imagine, that he had reached at last the metropolis of felicity, the +place sacred to gladness of heart, from whence all fear and anxiety were +irreversibly excluded. Such, indeed, we may often find to be the opinion +of those, who from a lower station look up to the pomp and gaiety which +they cannot reach: but who is there of those who frequent these +luxurious assemblies, that will not confess his own uneasiness, or +cannot recount the vexations and distresses that prey upon the lives of +his gay companions? + +The world, in its best state, is nothing more than a larger assembly of +beings, combining to counterfeit happiness which they do not feel, +employing every art and contrivance to embellish life, and to hide their +real condition from the eyes of one another. + +The species of happiness most obvious to the observation of others, is +that which depends upon the goods of fortune; yet even this is often +fictitious. There is in the world more poverty than is generally +imagined; not only because many whose possessions are large have desires +still larger, and many measure their wants by the gratifications which +others enjoy; but great numbers are pressed by real necessities which it +is their chief ambition to conceal, and are forced to purchase the +appearance of competence and cheerfulness at the expense of many +comforts and conveniencies of life. + +Many, however, are confessedly rich, and many more are sufficiently +removed from all danger of real poverty: but it has been long ago +remarked, that money cannot purchase quiet; the highest of mankind can +promise themselves no exemption from that discord or suspicion, by which +the sweetness of domestick retirement is destroyed; and must always be +even more exposed, in the same degree as they are elevated above others, +to the treachery of dependants, the calumny of defamers and the violence +of opponents. + +Affliction is inseparable from our present state: it adheres to all the +inhabitants of this world, in different proportions indeed, but with an +allotment which seems very little regulated by our own conduct. It has +been the boast of some swelling moralists, that every man's fortune was +in his own power, that prudence supplied the place of all other +divinities, and that happiness is the unfailing consequence of virtue. +But, surely, the quiver of Omnipotence is stored with arrows, against +which the shield of human virtue, however adamantine it has been +boasted, is held up in vain: we do not always suffer by our crimes; we +are not always protected by our innocence. + +A good man is by no means exempt from the danger of suffering by the +crimes of others; even his goodness may raise him enemies of implacable +malice and restless perseverance: the good man has never been warranted +by Heaven from the treachery of friends, the disobedience of children or +the dishonesty of a wife; he may see his cares made useless by +profusion, his instructions defeated by perverseness, and his kindness +rejected by ingratitude; he may languish under the infamy of false +accusations, or perish reproachfully by an unjust sentence. + +A good man is subject, like other mortals, to all the influences of +natural evil; his harvest is not spared by the tempest, nor his cattle +by the murrain; his house flames like others in a conflagration; nor +have his ships any peculiar power of resisting hurricanes: his mind, +however elevated, inhabits a body subject to innumerable casualties, of +which he must always share the dangers and the pains; he bears about him +the seeds of disease, and may linger away a great part of his life under +the tortures of the gout or stone; at one time groaning with +insufferable anguish, at another dissolved in listlessness and languor. + +From this general and indiscriminate distribution of misery, the +moralists have always derived one of their strongest moral arguments for +a future state; for since the common events of the present life happen +alike to the good and bad, it follows from the justice of the Supreme +Being, that there must be another state of existence, in which a just +retribution shall be made, and every man shall be happy and miserable +according to his works. + +The miseries of life may, perhaps, afford some proof of a future state, +compared as well with the mercy as the justice of God. It is scarcely to +be imagined that Infinite Benevolence would create a being capable of +enjoying so much more than is here to be enjoyed, and qualified by +nature to prolong pain by remembrance, and anticipate it by terrour, if +he was not designed for something nobler and better than a state, in +which many of his faculties can serve only for his torment; in which he +is to be importuned by desires that never can be satisfied, to feel many +evils which he had no power to avoid, and to fear many which he shall +never feel: there will surely come a time, when every capacity of +happiness shall be filled, and none shall be wretched but by his own +fault. + +In the mean time, it is by affliction chiefly that the heart of man is +purified, and that the thoughts are fixed upon a better state. +Prosperity, allayed and imperfect as it is, has power to intoxicate the +imagination, to fix the mind upon the present scene, to produce +confidence and elation, and to make him who enjoys affluence and honours +forget the hand by which they were bestowed. It is seldom that we are +otherwise, than by affliction, awakened to a sense of our own +imbecility, or taught to know how little all our acquisitions can +conduce to safety or to quiet; and how justly we may ascribe to the +superintendence of a higher Power, those blessings which in the +wantonness of success we considered as the attainments of our policy or +courage. + +Nothing confers so much ability to resist the temptations that +perpetually surround us, as an habitual consideration of the shortness +of life, and the uncertainty of those pleasures that solicit our +pursuit; and this consideration can be inculcated only by affliction. "O +Death! how bitter is the remembrance of thee, to a man that lives at +ease in his possessions!" If our present state were one continued +succession of delights, or one uniform flow of calmness and +tranquillity, we should never willingly think upon its end; death would +then surely surprise us as "a thief in the night;" and our task of duty +would remain unfinished, till "the night came when no man can work." + +While affliction thus prepares us for felicity, we may console ourselves +under its pressures, by remembering, that they are no particular marks +of divine displeasure; since all the distresses of persecution have been +suffered by those, "of whom the world was not worthy;" and the Redeemer +of mankind himself was "a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief!" + + + + +No. 126. SATURDAY, JANUARY 19, 1754. + + --_Steriles nec legit arenas + Ut caner et paucis, mersitque hoc pulvere verum._ LUCAN. + + Canst thou believe the vast eternal Mind Was e'er to Syrts and +Lybian sands confin'd? That he would choose this waste, this barren +ground, To teach the thin inhabitants around, And leave his truth in +wilds and deserts drown'd? + + There has always prevailed among that part of mankind that addict their +minds to speculation, a propensity to talk much of the delights of +retirement: and some of the most pleasing compositions produced in every +age contain descriptions of the peace and happiness of a country life. + +I know not whether those who thus ambitiously repeat the praises of +solitude, have always considered, how much they depreciate mankind by +declaring, that whatever is excellent or desirable is to be obtained by +departing from them; that the assistance which we may derive from one +another, is not equivalent to the evils which we have to fear; that the +kindness of a few is overbalanced by the malice of many; and that the +protection of society is too dearly purchased by encountering its +dangers and enduring its oppressions. + +These specious representations of solitary happiness, however +opprobrious to human nature, have so far spread their influence over the +world, that almost every man delights his imagination with the hopes of +obtaining some time an opportunity of retreat. Many, indeed, who enjoy +retreat only in imagination, content themselves with believing, that +another year will transport them to rural tranquillity, and die while +they talk of doing what, if they had lived longer, they would never have +done. But many likewise there are, either of greater resolution or more +credulity, who in earnest try the state which they have been taught to +think thus secure from cares and dangers; and retire to privacy, either +that they may improve their happiness, increase their knowledge, or +exalt their virtue. + +The greater part of the admirers of solitude, as of all other classes of +mankind, have no higher or remoter view, than the present gratification +of their passions. Of these, some, haughty and impetuous, fly from +society only because they cannot bear to repay to others the regard +which themselves exact; and think no state of life eligible, but that +which places them out of the reach of censure or control, and affords +them opportunities of living in a perpetual compliance with their own +inclinations, without the necessity of regulating their actions by any +other man's convenience or opinion. + +There are others, of minds more delicate and tender, easily offended by +every deviation from rectitude, soon disgusted by ignorance or +impertinence, and always expecting from the conversation of mankind more +elegance, purity and truth, than the mingled mass of life will easily +afford. Such men are in haste to retire from grossness, falsehood and +brutality; and hope to find in private habitations at least a negative +felicity, an exemption from the shocks and perturbations with which +publick scenes are continually distressing them. + +To neither of these votaries will solitude afford that content, which +she has been taught so lavishly to promise. The man of arrogance will +quickly discover, that by escaping from his opponents he has lost his +flatterers, that greatness is nothing where it is not seen, and power +nothing where it cannot be felt: and he, whose faculties are employed in +too close an observation of failings and defects, will find his +condition very little mended by transferring his attention from others +to himself: he will probably soon come back in quest of new objects, and +be glad to keep his captiousness employed on any character rather than +his own. + +Others are seduced into solitude merely by the authority of great names, +and expect to find those charms in tranquillity which have allured +statesmen and conquerors to the shades: these likewise are apt to wonder +at their disappointment, for want of considering, that those whom they +aspire to imitate carried with them to their country-seats minds full +fraught with subjects of reflection, the consciousness of great merit, +the memory of illustrious actions, the knowledge of important events, +and the seeds of mighty designs to be ripened by future meditation. +Solitude was to such men a release from fatigue, and an opportunity of +usefulness. But what can retirement confer upon him, who having done +nothing can receive no support from his own importance, who having known +nothing can find no entertainment in reviewing the past, and who +intending nothing can form no hopes from prospects of the future? He +can, surely, take no wiser course than that of losing himself again in +the crowd, and filling the vacuities of his mind with the news of the +day. + +Others consider solitude as the parent of philosophy, and retire in +expectation of greater intimacies with science, as Numa repaired to the +groves when he conferred with Egeria. These men have not always reason +to repent. Some studies require a continued prosecution of the same +train of thought, such as is too often interrupted by the petty +avocations of common life: sometimes, likewise, it is necessary, that a +multiplicity of objects be at once present to the mind; and every thing, +therefore, must be kept at a distance, which may perplex the memory or +dissipate the attention. + +But though learning may be conferred by solitude, its application must +be attained by general converse. He has learned to no purpose, that is +not able to teach; and he will always teach unsuccessfully, who cannot +recommend his sentiments by his diction or address. + +Even the acquisition of knowledge is often much facilitated by the +advantages of society: he that never compares his notions with those of +others, readily acquiesces in his first thoughts, and very seldom +discovers the objections which may be raised against his opinions; he, +therefore, often thinks himself in possession of truth, when he is only +fondling an errour long since exploded. He that has neither companions +nor rivals in his studies, will always applaud his own progress, and +think highly of his performances, because he knows not that others have +equalled or excelled him. And I am afraid it may be added, that the +student who withdraws himself from the world, will soon feel that ardour +extinguished which praise or emulation had enkindled, and take the +advantage of secrecy to sleep, rather than to labour. + +There remains yet another set of recluses, whose intention entitles them +to higher respect, and whose motives deserve a more serious +consideration. These retire from the world, not merely to bask in ease +or gratify curiosity, but that, being disengaged from common cares, they +may employ more time in the duties of religion; that they may regulate +their actions with stricter vigilance, and purify their thoughts by more +frequent meditation. + +To men thus elevated above the mists of mortality, I am far from +presuming myself qualified to give directions. On him that appears to +"pass through things temporal," with no other care than not to "finally +lose the things eternal," I look with such veneration as inclines me to +approve his conduct in the whole, without a minute examination of its +parts; yet I could never forbear to wish, that while vice is every day +multiplying seducements, and stalking forth with more hardened +effrontery, virtue would not withdraw the influence of her presence, or +forbear to assert her natural dignity by open and undaunted perseverance +in the right. Piety practised in solitude, like the flower that blooms +in the desert, may give its fragrance to the winds of Heaven, and +delight those unbodied spirits that survey the works of God and the +actions of men; but it bestows no assistance upon earthly beings, and +however free from taints of impurity, yet wants the sacred splendour of +beneficence. + +Our Maker, who, though he gave us such varieties of temper and such +difference of powers, yet designed us all for happiness, undoubtedly +intended that we should obtain that happiness by different means. Some +are unable to resist the temptations of importunity, or the impetuosity +of their own passions incited by the force of present temptations: of +these it is undoubtedly the duty to fly from enemies which they cannot +conquer, and cultivate, in the calm of solitude, that virtue which is +too tender to endure the tempests of publick life. But there are others, +whose passions grow more strong and irregular in privacy; and who cannot +maintain an uniform tenour of virtue, but by exposing their manners to +the publick eye, and assisting the admonitions of conscience with the +fear of infamy: for such it is dangerous to exclude all witnesses of +their conduct, till they have formed strong habits of virtue, and +weakened their passions by frequent victories. But there is a higher +order of men so inspired with ardour, and so fortified with resolution, +that the world passes before them without influence or regard: these +ought to consider themselves as appointed the guardians of mankind: they +are placed in an evil world, to exhibit publick examples of good life; +and may be said, when they withdraw to solitude, to desert the station +which Providence assigned them. + + + + +No. 128. SATURDAY, JANUARY 26, 1754. + + _Ille sinistrorsum, hic dextrorsum abit; unus utrique + Error, sed variis illudit partibus._--HOR. Lib. ii. Sat. iii. 50. + + When in a wood we leave the certain way, + One error fools us, though we various stray, + Some to the left, and some to t'other side. FRANCIS. + +It is common among all the classes of mankind, to charge each other with +trifling away life: every man looks on the occupation or amusement of +his neighbour, as something below the dignity of our nature, and +unworthy of the attention of a rational being. + +A man who considers the paucity of the wants of nature, and who, being +acquainted with the various means by which all manual occupations are +now facilitated, observes what numbers are supported by the labour of a +few, would, indeed, be inclined to wonder, how the multitudes who are +exempted from the necessity of working, either for themselves or others, +find business to fill up the vacuities of life. The greater part of +mankind neither card the fleece, dig the mine, fell the wood, nor gather +in the harvest; they neither tend herds nor build houses; in what then +are they employed? + +This is certainly a question, which a distant prospect of the world will +not enable us to answer. We find all ranks and ages mingled together in +a tumultuous confusion, with haste in their motions, and eagerness in +their looks; but what they have to pursue or avoid, a more minute +observation must inform them. + +When we analyze the crowd into individuals, it soon appears that the +passions and imaginations of men will not easily suffer them to be idle: +we see things coveted merely because they are rare, and pursued because +they are fugitive; we see men conspire to fix an arbitrary value on that +which is worthless in itself, and then contend for the possession. One +is a collector of fossils, of which he knows no other use than to show +them; and when he has stocked his own repository, grieves that the +stones which he has left behind him should be picked up by another. The +florist nurses a tulip, and repines that his rival's beds enjoy the same +showers and sunshine with his own. This man is hurrying to a concert, +only lest others should have heard the new musician before him; another +bursts from his company to the play, because he fancies himself the +patron of an actress; some spend the morning in consultations with their +tailor, and some in directions to their cook; some are forming parties +for cards, and some laying wagers at a horse-race. + +It cannot, I think, be denied, that some of these lives are passed in +trifles, in occupations by which the busy neither benefit themselves nor +others, and by which no man could be long engaged, who seriously +considered what he was doing, or had knowledge enough to compare what he +is, with what he might be made. However, as people who have the same +inclination generally flock together, every trifler is kept in +countenance by the sight of others as unprofitably active as himself; by +kindling the heat of competition, he in time thinks himself important, +and by having his mind intensely engaged, he is secured from weariness +of himself. + +Some degree of self-approbation is always the reward of diligence; and I +cannot, therefore, but consider the laborious cultivation of petty +pleasures, as a more happy and more virtuous disposition, than that +universal contempt and haughty negligence, which is sometimes associated +with powerful faculties, but is often assumed by indolence when it +disowns its name, and aspires to the appellation of greatness of mind. + +It has been long observed, that drollery and ridicule is the most easy +kind of wit: let it be added that contempt and arrogance is the easiest +philosophy. To find some objection to every thing, and to dissolve in +perpetual laziness under pretence that occasions are wanting to call +forth activity, to laugh at those who are ridiculously busy without +setting an example of more rational industry, is no less in the power of +the meanest than of the highest intellects. + +Our present state has placed us at once in such different relations, +that every human employment, which is not a visible and immediate act of +goodness, will be in some respect or other subject to contempt; but it +is true, likewise, that almost every act, which is not directly vicious, +is in some respect beneficial and laudable. "I often," says Bruyere, +"observe from my window, two beings of erect form and amiable +countenance, endowed with the powers of reason, able to clothe their +thoughts in language, and convey their notions to each other. They rise +early in the morning, and are every day employed till sunset in rubbing +two smooth stones together, or, in other terms, in polishing marble." + +"If lions could paint," says the fable, "in the room of those pictures +which exhibit men vanquishing lions, we should see lions feeding upon +men." If the stone-cutter could have written like Bruyere, what would he +have replied? + +"I look up," says he, "every day from my shop, upon a man whom the +idlers, who stand still to gaze upon my work, often celebrate as a wit +and a philosopher. I often perceive his face clouded with care, and am +told that his taper is sometimes burning at midnight. The sight of a man +who works so much harder than myself, excited my curiosity. I heard no +sound of tools in his apartment, and, therefore, could not imagine what +he was doing; but was told at last, that he was writing descriptions of +mankind, who when he had described them would live just as they had +lived before; that he sat up whole nights to change a sentence, because +the sound of a letter was too often repeated: that he was often +disquieted with doubts, about the propriety of a word which every body +understood; that he would hesitate between two expressions equally +proper, till he could not fix his choice but by consulting his friends; +that he will run from one end of Paris to the other, for an opportunity +of reading a period to a nice ear; that if a single line is heard with +coldness and inattention, he returns home dejected and disconsolate; and +that by all this care and labour, he hopes only to make a little book, +which at last will teach no useful art, and which none who has it not +will perceive himself to want. I have often wondered for what end such a +being as this was sent into the world; and should be glad to see those +who live thus foolishly, seized by an order of the government, and +obliged to labour at some useful occupation." + +Thus, by a partial and imperfect representation, may every thing be made +equally ridiculous. He that gazed with contempt on human beings rubbing +stones together, might have prolonged the same amusement by walking +through the city, and seeing others with looks of importance heaping one +brick upon another; or by rambling into the country, where he might +observe other creatures of the same kind driving a piece of sharp iron +into the clay, or, in the language of men less enlightened, ploughing +the field. + +As it is thus easy by a detail of minute circumstances to make every +thing little, so it is not difficult by an aggregation of effects to +make every thing great. The polisher of marble may be forming ornaments +for the palaces of virtue, and the schools of science; or providing +tables on which the actions of heroes and the discoveries of sages shall +be recorded, for the incitement and instruction of generations. The +mason is exercising one of the principal arts by which reasoning beings +are distinguished from the brute, the art to which life owes much of its +safety and all its convenience, by which we are secured from the +inclemency of the seasons, and fortified against the ravages of +hostility; and the ploughman is changing the face of nature, diffusing +plenty and happiness over kingdoms, and compelling the earth to give +food to her inhabitants. + +Greatness and littleness are terms merely comparative; and we err in our +estimation of things, because we measure them by some wrong standard. +The trifler proposes to himself only to equal or excel some other +trifler, and is happy or miserable as he succeeds or miscarries: the man +of sedentary desire and unactive ambition sits comparing his power with +his wishes; and makes his inability to perform things impossible, an +excuse to himself for performing nothing. Man can only form a just +estimate of his own actions, by making his power the test of his +performance, by comparing what he does with what he can do. Whoever +steadily perseveres in the exertion of all his faculties, does what is +great with respect to himself; and what will not be despised by Him, who +has given to all created beings their different abilities: he faithfully +performs the task of life, within whatever limits his labours may be +confined, or how soon soever they may be forgotten. + +We can conceive so much more than we can accomplish, that whoever tries +his own actions by his imagination, may appear despicable in his own +eyes. He that despises for its littleness any thing really useful, has +no pretensions to applaud the grandeur of his conceptions; since nothing +but narrowness of mind hinders him from seeing, that by pursuing the +same principles every thing limited will appear contemptible. + +He that neglects the care of his family, while his benevolence expands +itself in scheming the happiness of imaginary kingdoms, might with equal +reason sit on a throne dreaming of universal empire, and of the +diffusion of blessings over all the globe: yet even this globe is +little, compared with the system of matter within our view! and that +system barely something more than nonentity, compared with the boundless +regions of space, to which neither eye nor imagination can extend. + +From conceptions, therefore, of what we might have been, and from wishes +to be what we are not, conceptions that we know to be foolish, and +wishes which we feel to be vain, we must necessarily descend to the +consideration of what we are. We have powers very scanty in their utmost +extent, but which in different men are differently proportioned. +Suitably to these powers we have duties prescribed, which we must +neither decline for the sake of delighting ourselves with easier +amusements, nor overlook in idle contemplation of greater excellence or +more extensive comprehension. + +In order to the right conduct of our lives, we must remember, that we +are not born to please ourselves. He that studies simply his own +satisfaction, will always find the proper business of his station too +hard or too easy for him. But if we bear continually in mind our +relation to the Father of Being, by whom we are placed in the world, and +who has allotted us the part which we are to bear in the general system +of life, we shall be easily persuaded to resign our own inclinations to +Unerring Wisdom, and do the work decreed for us with cheerfulness and +diligence. + + + + +No. 131. TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 5, 1754. + + --_Misce + Ergo aliquid nostris de moribus_. JUV. Sat. iv. 322. + + And mingle something of our times to please. DRYDEN, Jun. + +Fontanelle, in his panegyrick on Sir Isaac Newton, closes a long +enumeration of that great philosopher's virtues and attainments, with an +observation, that "he was not distinguished from other men, by any +singularity either natural or affected." + +It is an eminent instance of Newton's superiority to the rest of +mankind, that he was able to separate knowledge from those weaknesses by +which knowledge is generally disgraced; that he was able to excel in +science and wisdom without purchasing them by the neglect of little +things; and that he stood alone, merely because he had left the rest of +mankind behind him, not because he deviated from the beaten track. + +Whoever, after the example of Plutarch, should compare the lives of +illustrious men, might set this part of Newton's character to view with +great advantage, by opposing it to that of Bacon, perhaps the only man, +of later ages, who has any pretensions to dispute with him the palm of +genius or science. + +Bacon, after he had added to a long and careful contemplation of almost +every other object of knowledge a curious inspection into common life, +and after having surveyed nature as a philosopher, had examined "men's +business and bosoms" as a statesman; yet failed so much in the conduct +of domestick affairs, that, in the most lucrative post to which a great +and wealthy kingdom could advance him, he felt all the miseries of +distressful poverty, and committed all the crimes to which poverty +incites. Such were at once his negligence and rapacity, that, as it is +said, he would gain by unworthy practices that money, which, when so +acquired, his servants might steal from one end of the table, while he +sat studious and abstracted at the other. + +As scarcely any man has reached the excellence, very few have sunk to +the weakness of Bacon: but almost all the studious tribe, as they obtain +any participation of his knowledge, feel likewise some contagion of his +defects; and obstruct the veneration which learning would procure, by +follies greater or less, to which only learning could betray them. + +It has been formerly remarked by _The Guardian_, that the world punishes +with too great severity the errours of those, who imagine that the +ignorance of little things may be compensated by the knowledge of great; +for so it is, that as more can detect petty failings than can +distinguish or esteem great qualifications, and as mankind is in general +more easily disposed to censure than to admiration, contempt is often +incurred by slight mistakes, which real virtue or usefulness cannot +counterbalance. + +Yet such mistakes and inadvertencies it is not easy for a man deeply +immersed in study to avoid; no man can become qualified for the common +intercourses of life, by private meditation: the manners of the world +are not a regular system, planned by philosophers upon settled +principles, in which every cause has a congruous effect, and one part +has a just reference to another. Of the fashions prevalent in every +country, a few have arisen, perhaps, from particular temperatures of the +climate; a few more from the constitution of the government; but the +greater part have grown up by chance; been started by caprice, been +contrived by affectation, or borrowed without any just motives of choice +from other countries. + +Of all these, the savage that hunts his prey upon the mountains, and the +sage that speculates in his closet, must necessarily live in equal +ignorance: yet by the observation of those trifles it is, that the ranks +of mankind are kept in order, that the address of one to another is +regulated, and the general business of the world carried on with +facility and method. + +These things, therefore, though small in themselves, become great by +their frequency: and he very much mistakes his own interest, who to the +unavoidable unskilfulness of abstraction and retirement, adds a +voluntary neglect of common forms, and increases the disadvantages of a +studious course of life by an arrogant contempt of those practices, by +which others endeavour to gain favour and multiply friendships. + +A real and interior disdain of fashion and ceremony, is indeed, not very +often to be found: much the greater part of those who pretend to laugh +at foppery and formality, secretly wish to have possessed those +qualifications which they pretend to despise; and because they find it +difficult to wash away the tincture which they have so deeply imbibed, +endeavour to harden themselves in a sullen approbation of their own +colour. Neutrality is a state, into which the busy passions of man +cannot easily subside; and he who is in danger of the pangs of envy, is +generally forced to recreate his imagination with an effort of comfort. + +Some, however, may be found, who, supported by the consciousness of +great abilities, and elevated by a long course of reputation and +applause, voluntarily consign themselves to singularity, affect to cross +the roads of life because they know that they shall not be jostled, and +indulge a boundless gratification of will because they perceive that +they shall be quietly obeyed. Men of this kind are generally known by +the name of Humourists, an appellation by which he that has obtained it, +and can be contented to keep it, is set free at once from the shackles +of fashion: and can go in or out, sit or stand, be talkative or silent, +gloomy or merry, advance absurdities or oppose demonstration, without +any other reprehension from mankind, than that it is his way, that he is +an odd fellow, and must be let alone. + +This seems to many an easy passport through the various factions of +mankind; and those on whom it is bestowed, appear too frequently to +consider the patience with which their caprices are suffered as an +undoubted evidence of their own importance, of a genius to which +submission is universally paid, and whose irregularities are only +considered as consequences of its vigour. These peculiarities, however, +are always found to spot a character, though they may not totally +obscure it; and he who expects from mankind, that they should give up +established customs in compliance with his single will, and exacts that +deference which he does not pay, may be endured, but can never be +approved. + +Singularity is, I think, in its own nature universally and invariably +displeasing. In whatever respect a man differs from others, he must be +considered by them as either worse or better: by being better, it is +well known that a man gains admiration oftener than love, since all +approbation of his practice must necessarily condemn him that gives it; +and though a man often pleases by inferiority, there are few who desire +to give such pleasure. Yet the truth is, that singularity is almost +always regarded as a brand of slight reproach; and where it is +associated with acknowledged merit, serves as an abatement or an allay +of excellence, by which weak eyes are reconciled to its lustre, and by +which, though kindness is not gained, at least envy is averted. + +But let no man be in haste to conclude his own merit so great or +conspicuous, as to require or justify singularity: it is as hazardous +for a moderate understanding to usurp the prerogatives of genius, as for +a common form to play over the airs of uncontested beauty. The pride of +men will not patiently endure to see one, whose understanding or +attainments are but level with their own, break the rules by which they +have consented to be bound, or forsake the direction which they +submissively follow. All violation of established practice implies in +its own nature a rejection of the common opinion, a defiance of common +censure, and an appeal from general laws to private judgment: he, +therefore, who differs from others without apparent advantage, ought not +to be angry if his arrogance is punished with ridicule; if those whose +example he superciliously overlooks, point him out to derision, and hoot +him back again into the common road. + +The pride of singularity is often exerted in little things, where right +and wrong are indeterminable, and where, therefore, vanity is without +excuse. But there are occasions on which it is noble to dare to stand +alone. To be pious among infidels, to be disinterested in a time of +general venality, to lead a life of virtue and reason in the midst of +sensualists, is a proof of a mind intent on nobler things than the +praise or blame of men, of a soul fixed in the contemplation of the +highest good, and superior to the tyranny of custom and example. + +In moral and religious questions only, a wise man will hold no +consultations with fashion, because these duties are constant and +immutable, and depend not on the notions of men, but the commands of +Heaven: yet even of these, the external mode is to be in some measure +regulated by the prevailing taste of the age in which we live; for he is +certainly no friend to virtue, who neglects to give it any lawful +attraction, or suffers it to deceive the eye or alienate the affections +for want of innocent compliance with fashionable decorations. + +It is yet remembered of the learned and pious Nelson[1], that he was +remarkably elegant in his manners, and splendid in his dress. He knew, +that the eminence of his character drew many eyes upon him; and he was +careful not to drive the young or the gay away from religion, by +representing it as an enemy to any distinction or enjoyment in which +human nature may innocently delight. + +In this censure of singularity, I have, therefore, no intention to +subject reason or conscience to custom or example. To comply with the +notions and practices of mankind, is in some degree the duty of a social +being; because by compliance only he can please, and by pleasing only he +can become useful: but as the end is not to be lost for the sake of the +means, we are not to give up virtue to complaisance; for the end of +complaisance is only to gain the kindness of our fellow-beings, whose +kindness is desirable only as instrumental to happiness, and happiness +must be always lost by departure from virtue. + + +[1] The neglect of his writings must be considered as indicative of an + increasing neglect of that apostolical establishment, whose Fasts + and Festivals this author has illustrated with a raciness of style + and sentiment worthy of a primitive father of the Church. + + + + +No. 137. TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 26, 1754. + + [Greek: Ti d erexa]; PYTHAG. + + What have I been doing? + +As man is a being very sparingly furnished with the power of prescience, +he can provide for the future only by considering the past; and as +futurity is all in which he has any real interest, he ought very +diligently to use the only means by which he can be enabled to enjoy it, +and frequently to revolve the experiments which he has hitherto made +upon life, that he may gain wisdom from his mistakes, and caution from +his miscarriages. + +Though I do not so exactly conform to the precepts of Pythagoras, as to +practise every night this solemn recollection, yet I am not so lost in +dissipation as wholly to omit it; nor can I forbear sometimes to inquire +of myself, in what employment my life has passed away. Much of my time +has sunk into nothing, and left no trace by which it can be +distinguished; and of this I now only know, that it was once in my +power, and might once have been improved. + +Of other parts of life, memory can give some account; at some hours I +have been gay, and at others serious; I have sometimes mingled in +conversation, and sometimes meditated in solitude; one day has been +spent in consulting the ancient sages, and another in writing +_Adventurers_. + +At the conclusion of any undertaking, it is usual to compute the loss +and profit. As I shall soon cease to write _Adventurers_, I could not +forbear lately to consider what has been the consequence of my labours; +and whether I am to reckon the hours laid out in these compositions, as +applied to a good and laudable purpose, or suffered to fume away in +useless evaporations. + +That I have intended well, I have the attestation of my own heart: but +good intentions may be frustrated when they are executed without +suitable skill, or directed to an end unattainable in itself. + +Some there are, who leave writers very little room for +self-congratulation; some who affirm, that books have no influence upon +the publick, that no age was ever made better by its authors, and that to +call upon mankind to correct their manners, is, like Xerxes, to scourge +the wind, or shackle the torrent. + +This opinion they pretend to support by unfailing experience. The world +is full of fraud and corruption, rapine or malignity; interest is the +ruling motive of mankind, and every one is endeavouring to increase his +own stores of happiness by perpetual accumulation, without reflecting +upon the numbers whom his superfluity condemns to want: in this state of +things a book of morality is published, in which charity and benevolence +are strongly enforced; and it is proved beyond opposition, that men are +happy in proportion as they are virtuous, and rich as they are liberal. +The book is applauded, and the author is preferred; he imagines his +applause deserved, and receives less pleasure from the acquisition of +reward than the consciousness of merit. Let us look again upon mankind: +interest is still the ruling motive, and the world is yet full of fraud +and corruption, malevolence and rapine. + +The difficulty of confuting this assertion, arises merely from its +generality and comprehension; to overthrow it by a detail of distinct +facts, requires a wider survey of the world than human eyes can take; +the progress of reformation is gradual and silent, as the extension of +evening shadows; we know that they were short at noon, and are long at +sunset, but our senses were not able to discern their increase: we know +of every civil nation, that it was once savage, and how was it reclaimed +but by precept and admonition? + +Mankind are universally corrupt, but corrupt in different degrees; as +they are universally ignorant, yet with greater or less irradiations of +knowledge. How has knowledge or virtue been increased and preserved in +one place beyond another, but by diligent inculcation and rational +enforcement? + +Books of morality are daily written, yet its influence is still little +in the world; so the ground is annually ploughed, and yet multitudes are +in want of bread. But, surely, neither the labours of the moralist nor +of the husbandman are vain: let them for a while neglect their tasks, +and their usefulness will be known; the wickedness that is now frequent +will become universal, the bread that is now scarce would wholly fail. + +The power, indeed, of every individual is small, and the consequence of +his endeavours imperceptible, in a general prospect of the world. +Providence has given no man ability to do much, that something might be +left for every man to do. The business of life is carried on by a +general co-operation; in which the part of any single man can be no more +distinguished, than the effect of a particular drop when the meadows are +floated by a summer shower: yet every drop increases the inundation, and +every hand adds to the happiness or misery of mankind. + +That a writer, however zealous or eloquent, seldom works a visible +effect upon cities or nations, will readily be granted. The book which +is read most, is read by few, compared with those that read it not; and +of those few, the greater part peruse it with dispositions that very +little favour their own improvement. + +It is difficult to enumerate the several motives which procure to books +the honour of perusal: spite, vanity, and curiosity, hope and fear, love +and hatred, every passion which incites to any other action, serves at +one time or other to stimulate a reader. + +Some are fond to take a celebrated volume into their hands, because they +hope to distinguish their penetration, by finding faults which have +escaped the publick; others eagerly buy it in the first bloom of +reputation, that they may join the chorus of praise, and not lag, as +Falstaff terms it, in "the rearward of the fashion." + +Some read for style, and some for argument: one has little care about +the sentiment, he observes only how it is expressed; another regards not +the conclusion, but is diligent to mark how it is inferred: they read +for other purposes than the attainment of practical knowledge; and are +no more likely to grow wise by an examination of a treatise of moral +prudence, than an architect to inflame his devotion by considering +attentively the proportions of a temple. + +Some read that they may embellish their conversation, or shine in +dispute; some that they may not be detected in ignorance, or want the +reputation of literary accomplishments: but the most general and +prevalent reason of study is the impossibility of finding another +amusement equally cheap or constant, equally independent on the hour or +the weather. He that wants money to follow the chase of pleasure through +her yearly circuit, and is left at home when the gay world rolls to Bath +or Tunbridge; he whose gout compels him to hear from his chamber the +rattle of chariots transporting happier beings to plays and assemblies, +will be forced to seek in books a refuge from himself. + +The author is not wholly useless, who provides innocent amusements for +minds like these. There are, in the present state of things, so many +more instigations to evil, than incitements to good, that he who keeps +men in a neutral state, may be justly considered as a benefactor to +life. + +But, perhaps, it seldom happens, that study terminates in mere pastime. +Books have always a secret influence on the understanding; we cannot, at +pleasure, obliterate ideas: he that reads books of science, though +without any fixed desire of improvement, will grow more knowing; he that +entertains himself with moral or religious treatises, will imperceptibly +advance in goodness; the ideas which are often offered to the mind, will +at last find a lucky moment when it is disposed to receive them. + +It is, therefore, urged without reason, as a discouragement to writers, +that there are already books sufficient in the world; that all the +topicks of persuasion have been discussed, and every important question +clearly stated and justly decided; and that, therefore, there is no room +to hope, that pigmies should conquer where heroes have been defeated, or +that the petty copiers of the present time should advance the great work +of reformation, which their predecessors were forced to leave +unfinished. + +Whatever be the present extent of human knowledge, it is not only +finite, and therefore in its own nature capable of increase, but so +narrow, that almost every understanding may, by a diligent application +of its powers, hope to enlarge it. It is, however, not necessary that a +man should forbear to write, till he has discovered some truth unknown +before; he may be sufficiently useful, by only diversifying the surface +of knowledge, and luring the mind by a new appearance to a second view +of those beauties which it had passed over inattentively before. Every +writer may find intellects correspondent to his own, to whom his +expressions are familiar, and his thoughts congenial; and, perhaps, +truth is often more successfully propagated by men of moderate +abilities, who, adopting the opinions of others, have no care but to +explain them clearly, than by subtle speculatists and curious searchers, +who exact from their readers powers equal to their own, and if their +fabricks of science be strong, take no care to render them accessible. + +For my part, I do not regret the hours which I have laid out in these +little compositions. That the world has grown apparently better, since +the publication of the _Adventurer_, I have not observed; but am willing +to think, that many have been affected by single sentiments, of which it +is their business to renew the impression; that many have caught hints +of truth, which it is now their duty to pursue; and that those who have +received no improvement, have wanted not opportunity but intention to +improve. + + + + +No. 138. SATURDAY, MARCH 2, 1754. + + _Quid pure tranquillet; honos, an dulce lucellum, + An secretum iter, et fallentis semita vitae._ HOR. Lib, i. Ep. + xviii. 102. + + Whether the tranquil mind and pure, + Honours or wealth our bliss ensure: + Or down through life unknown to stray, + Where lonely leads the silent way. FRANCIS. + +Having considered the importance of authors to the welfare of the +publick, I am led by a natural train of thought, to reflect on their +condition with regard to themselves; and to inquire what degree of +happiness or vexation is annexed to the difficult and laborious +employment of providing instruction or entertainment for mankind. + +In estimating the pain or pleasure of any particular state, every man, +indeed, draws his decisions from his own breast, and cannot with +certainty determine whether other minds are affected by the same causes +in the same manner. Yet by this criterion we must be content to judge, +because no other can be obtained; and, indeed, we have no reason to +think it very fallacious, for excepting here and there an anomalous +mind, which either does not feel like others, or dissembles its +sensibility, we find men unanimously concur in attributing happiness or +misery to particular conditions, as they agree in acknowledging the cold +of winter and the heat of autumn. + +If we apply to authors themselves for an account of their state, it will +appear very little to deserve envy; for they have in all ages been +addicted to complaint. The neglect of learning, the ingratitude of the +present age, and the absurd preference by which ignorance and dulness +often obtain favour and rewards, have been from age to age topicks of +invective; and few have left their names to posterity, without some +appeal to future candour from the perverseness and malice of their own +times. + +I have, nevertheless, been often inclined to doubt, whether authors, +however querulous, are in reality more miserable than their fellow +mortals. The present life is to all a state of infelicity; every man, +like an author, believes himself to merit more than he obtains, and +solaces the present with the prospect of the future; others, indeed, +suffer those disappointments in silence, of which the writer complains, +to show how well he has learnt the art of lamentation. + +There is at least one gleam of felicity, of which few writers have +missed the enjoyment: he whose hopes have so far overpowered his fears, +as that he has resolved to stand forth a candidate for fame, seldom +fails to amuse himself, before his appearance, with pleasing scenes of +affluence or honour: while his fortune is yet under the regulation of +fancy, he easily models it to his wish, suffers no thoughts of criticks +or rivals to intrude upon his mind, but counts over the bounties of +patronage, or listens to the voice of praise. + +Some there are, that talk very luxuriously of the second period of an +author's happiness, and tell of the tumultuous raptures of invention, +when the mind riots in imagery, and the choice stands suspended between +different sentiments. + +These pleasures, I believe, may sometimes be indulged to those, who come +to a subject of disquisition with minds full of ideas, and with fancies +so vigorous, as easily to excite, select, and arrange them. To write is, +indeed, no unpleasing employment, when one sentiment readily produces +another, and both ideas and expressions present themselves at the first +summons; but such happiness, the greatest genius does not always obtain; +and common writers know it only to such a degree, as to credit its +possibility. Composition is, for the most part, an effort of slow +diligence and steady perseverance, to which the mind is dragged by +necessity or resolution, and from which the attention is every moment +starting to more delightful amusements. + +It frequently happens, that a design which, when considered at a +distance, gave flattering hopes of facility, mocks us in the execution +with unexpected difficulties; the mind which, while it considered it in +the gross, imagined itself amply furnished with materials, finds +sometimes an unexpected barrenness and vacuity, and wonders whither all +those ideas are vanished, which a little before seemed struggling for +emission. + +Sometimes many thoughts present themselves; but so confused and +unconnected, that they are not without difficulty reduced to method, or +concatenated in a regular and dependent series; the mind falls at once +into a labyrinth, of which neither the beginning nor end can be +discovered, and toils and struggles without progress or extrication. + +It is asserted by Horace, that, "if matter be once got together, words +will be found with very little difficulty;" a position which, though +sufficiently plausible to be inserted in poetical precepts, is by no +means strictly and philosophically true. If words were naturally and +necessarily consequential to sentiments, it would always follow, that he +who has most knowledge must have most eloquence, and that every man +would clearly express what he fully understood: yet we find, that to +think, and discourse, are often the qualities of different persons: and +many books might surely be produced, where just and noble sentiments are +degraded and obscured by unsuitable diction. + +Words, therefore, as well as things, claim the care of an author. Indeed +of many authors, and those not useless or contemptible, words are almost +the only care: many make it their study, not so much to strike out new +sentiments, as to recommend those which are already known to more +favourable notice by fairer decorations; but every man, whether he +copies or invents, whether he delivers his own thoughts or those of +another, has often found himself deficient in the power of expression, +big with ideas which he could not utter, obliged to ransack his memory +for terms adequate to his conceptions, and at last unable to impress +upon his reader the image existing in his own mind. + +It is one of the common distresses of a writer, to be within a word of a +happy period, to want only a single epithet to give amplification its +full force, to require only a correspondent term in order to finish a +paragraph with elegance, and make one of its members answer to the +other; but these deficiencies cannot always be supplied: and after a +long study and vexation, the passage is turned anew, and the web unwoven +that was so nearly finished. + +But when thoughts and words are collected and adjusted, and the whole +composition at last concluded, it seldom gratifies the author, when he +comes coolly and deliberately to review it, with the hopes which had +been excited in the fury of the performance: novelty always captivates +the mind; as our thoughts rise fresh upon us, we readily believe them +just and original, which, when the pleasure of production is over, we +find to be mean and common, or borrowed from the works of others, and +supplied by memory rather than invention. + +But though it should happen that the writer finds no such faults in his +performance, he is still to remember, that he looks upon it with partial +eyes: and when he considers, how much men, who could judge of others +with great exactness, have often failed of judging of themselves, he +will be afraid of deciding too hastily in his own favour, or of allowing +himself to contemplate with too much complacence, treasure that has not +yet been brought to the test, nor passed the only trial that can stamp +its value. + +From the publick, and only from the publick, is he to await a +confirmation of his claim, and a final justification of self-esteem; but +the publick is not easily persuaded to favour an author. If mankind were +left to judge for themselves, it is reasonable to imagine, that of such +writings, at least, as describe the movements of the human passions, and +of which every man carries the archetype within him, a just opinion +would be formed; but whoever has remarked the fate of books, must have +found it governed by other causes than general consent arising from +general conviction. If a new performance happens not to fall into the +hands of some who have courage to tell, and authority to propagate their +opinion, it often remains long in obscurity, and perishes unknown and +unexamined. A few, a very few, commonly constitute the taste of the +time; the judgment which they have once pronounced, some are too lazy to +discuss, and some too timorous to contradict; it may however be, I +think, observed, that their power is greater to depress than exalt, as +mankind are more credulous of censure than of praise. + +This perversion of the publick judgment is not to be rashly numbered +amongst the miseries of an author; since it commonly serves, after +miscarriage, to reconcile him to himself. Because the world has +sometimes passed an unjust sentence, he readily concludes the sentence +unjust by which his performance is condemned; because some have been +exalted above their merits by partiality, he is sure to ascribe the +success of a rival, not to the merit of his work, but the zeal of his +patrons. Upon the whole, as the author seems to share all the common +miseries of life, he appears to partake likewise of its lenitives and +abatements[1]. + +[1] See a pamphlet entitled "The Case of Authors by Profession," 8vo. + 1758. It is the production of Mr. James Ralph, who knew from painful + experience the bitter evils incident to an employment which yielded + a bare maintenance to Johnson himself. For anecdotes of Ralph, and + the work alluded to, see Dr. Drake's Essays on Rambler, &c. vol. i. + p. 96. + + + + + +THE IDLER. + + + + + +ADVERTISEMENT. + + +The IDLER having omitted to distinguish the essays of his correspondents +by any particular signature, thinks it necessary to inform his readers, +that from the ninth, the fifteenth, thirty-third, forty-second, +fifty-fourth, sixty-seventh, seventy-sixth, seventy-ninth, +eighty-second, ninety-third, ninety-sixth, and ninety-eighth papers, he +claims no other praise than that of having given them to the publick[1]. + +[1] The names of the Authors of these Papers, as far as known, will be +given in the course of the present edition. + + + + +THE IDLER. + + + + +No. 1. SATURDAY, APRIL 15, 1758. + + _--Vacui sub umbra + Lusimus_.--Hor. Lib. i. Ode xxxii. 1. + +Those who attempt periodical essays seem to be often stopped in the +beginning, by the difficulty of finding a proper title. Two writers, +since the time of the Spectator, have assumed his name[1] without any +pretensions to lawful inheritance; an effort was once made to revive the +Tatler[2], and the strange appellations, by which other papers have been +called, show that the authors were distressed, like the natives of +America, who come to the Europeans to beg a name. + +It will be easily believed of the Idler, that if his title had required +any search, he never would have found it. Every mode of life has its +conveniencies. The Idler, who habituates himself to be satisfied with +what he can most easily obtain, not only escapes labours which are often +fruitless, but sometimes succeeds better than those who despise all that +is within their reach, and think every thing more valuable as it is +harder to be acquired. + +If similitude of manners be a motive to kindness, the Idler may flatter +himself with universal patronage. There is no single character under +which such numbers are comprised. Every man is, or hopes to be, an +Idler. Even those who seem to differ most from us are hastening to +increase our fraternity; as peace is the end of war, so to be idle is +the ultimate purpose of the busy. + +There is perhaps no appellation by which a writer can better denote his +kindred to the human species. It has been found hard to describe man by +an adequate definition. Some philosophers have called him a reasonable +animal; but others have considered reason as a quality of which many +creatures partake. He has been termed likewise a laughing animal; but it +is said that some men have never laughed. Perhaps man may be more +properly distinguished as an idle animal; for there is no man who is not +sometimes idle. It is at least a definition from which none that shall +find it in this paper can be excepted; for who can be more idle than the +reader of the Idler? + +That the definition may be complete, idleness must be not only the +general, but the peculiar characteristick of man; and perhaps man is the +only being that can properly be called idle, that does by others what he +might do himself, or sacrifices duty or pleasure to the love of ease. + +Scarcely any name can be imagined from which less envy or competition is +to be dreaded. The Idler has no rivals or enemies. The man of business +forgets him; the man of enterprise despises him; and though such as +tread the same track of life fall commonly into jealousy and discord, +Idlers are always found to associate in peace; and he who is most famed +for doing nothing, is glad to meet another as idle as himself. + +What is to be expected from this paper, whether it will be uniform or +various, learned or familiar, serious or gay, political or moral, +continued or interrupted, it is hoped that no reader will inquire. That +the Idler has some scheme, cannot be doubted, for to form schemes is the +Idler's privilege. But though he has many projects in his head, he is +now grown sparing of communication, having observed, that his hearers +are apt to remember what he forgets himself; that his tardiness of +execution exposes him to the encroachments of those who catch a hint and +fall to work; and that very specious plans, after long contrivance and +pompous displays, have subsided in weariness without a trial, and +without miscarriage have been blasted by derision. + +Something the Idler's character may be supposed to promise. Those that +are curious after diminutive history, who watch the revolutions of +families, and the rise and fall of characters either male or female, +will hope to be gratified by this paper; for the Idler is always +inquisitive and seldom retentive. He that delights in obloquy and +satire, and wishes to see clouds gathering over any reputation that +dazzles him with its brightness, will snatch up the Idler's essays with +a beating heart. The Idler is naturally censorious; those who attempt +nothing themselves, think every thing easily performed, and consider the +unsuccessful always as criminal. + +I think it necessary to give notice, that I make no contract, nor incur +any obligation. If those who depend on the Idler for intelligence and +entertainment, should suffer the disappointment which commonly follows +ill-placed expectations, they are to lay the blame only on themselves. + +Yet hope is not wholly to be cast away. The Idler, though sluggish, is +yet alive, and may sometimes be stimulated to vigour and activity. He +may descend into profoundness, or tower into sublimity; for the +diligence of an Idler is rapid and impetuous, as ponderous bodies forced +into velocity move with violence proportionate to their weight. + +But these vehement exertions of intellect cannot be frequent, and he +will therefore gladly receive help from any correspondent, who shall +enable him to please without his own labour. He excludes no style, he +prohibits no subject; only let him that writes to the Idler remember, +that his letters must not be long; no words are to be squandered in +declarations of esteem, or confessions of inability; conscious dulness +has little right to be prolix, and praise is not so welcome to the Idler +as quiet. + + +[1] The Universal Spectator in 1728, by the celebrated antiquary William + Oldys. + + The Female Spectator in 1744, by Eliza Haywood. + + These were followed by the New Spectator in 1784; and lastly, by the + Country Spectator in 1792. This last is a production of very + considerable merit. + +[2] This attempt was made in 1750, under the title of the Tatler + Revived. After a short trial it completely failed. + + + + +No. 2. SATURDAY, APRIL 22, 1758. + + --_Toto non quater anno + Membranam_.--HOR. Lib. ii. Sat. iii. 1. + +Many positions are often on the tongue, and seldom in the mind; there +are many truths which every human being acknowledges and forgets. It is +generally known, that he who expects much will be often disappointed; +yet disappointment seldom cures us of expectation, or has any other +effect than that of producing a moral sentence, or peevish exclamation. +He that embarks in the voyage of life, will always wish to advance +rather by the impulse of the wind, than the strokes of the oar; and many +founder in the passage, while they lie waiting for the gale that is to +waft them to their wish. + +It will naturally be suspected that the Idler has lately suffered some +disappointment, and that he does not talk thus gravely for nothing. No +man is required to betray his own secrets. I will however, confess, that +I have now been a writer almost a week, and have not yet heard a single +word of praise, nor received one hint from any correspondent. + +Whence this negligence proceeds I am not able to discover. Many of my +predecessors have thought themselves obliged to return their +acknowledgments in the second paper, for the kind reception of the +first; and in a short time, apologies have become necessary to those +ingenious gentlemen and ladies, whose performances, though in the +highest degree elegant and learned, have been unavoidably delayed. + +What then will be thought of me, who, having experienced no kindness, +have no thanks to return; whom no gentleman or lady has yet enabled to +give any cause of discontent, and who have therefore no opportunity of +showing how skilfully I can pacify resentment, extenuate negligence, or +palliate rejection. + +I have long known that splendour of reputation is not to be counted +among the necessaries of life, and therefore shall not much repine if +praise be withheld till it is better deserved. But surely I may be +allowed to complain, that, in a nation of authors, not one has thought +me worthy of notice after so fair an invitation. + +At the time when the rage of writing has seized the old and young, when +the cook warbles her lyricks in the kitchen, and the thrasher +vociferates his heroicks in the barn; when our traders deal out +knowledge in bulky volumes, and our girls forsake their samplers to +teach kingdoms wisdom; it may seem very unnecessary to draw any more +from their proper occupations, by affording new opportunities of +literary fame[1]. + +I should be indeed unwilling to find that, for the sake of corresponding +with the Idler, the smith's iron had cooled on the anvil, or the +spinster's distaff stood unemployed. I solicit only the contributions of +those who have already devoted themselves to literature, or, without any +determinate intention, wander at large through the expanse of life, and +wear out the day in hearing at one place what they utter at another. + +Of these, a great part are already writers. One has a friend in the +country upon whom he exercises his powers; whose passions he raises and +depresses; whose understanding he perplexes with paradoxes, or +strengthens by argument; whose admiration he courts, whose praises he +enjoys; and who serves him instead of a senate or a theatre; as the +young soldiers in the Roman camp learned the use of their weapons by +fencing against a post in the place of an enemy. + +Another has his pockets filled with essays and epigrams, which he reads +from house to house, to select parties; and which his acquaintances are +daily entreating him to withhold no longer from the impatience of the +publick. + +If among these any one is persuaded, that, by such preludes of +composition, he has qualified himself to appear in the open world, and +is yet afraid of those censures which they who have already written, and +they who cannot write, are equally ready to fulminate against publick +pretenders to fame, he may, by transmitting his performances to the +Idler, make a cheap experiment of his abilities, and enjoy the pleasure +of success, without the hazard of miscarriage. + +Many advantages not generally known arise from this method of stealing +on the publick. The standing author of the paper is always the object of +critical malignity. Whatever is mean will be imputed to him, and +whatever is excellent be ascribed to his assistants. It does not much +alter the event, that the author and his correspondents are equally +unknown; for the author, whoever he be, is an individual, of whom every +reader has some fixed idea, and whom he is therefore unwilling to +gratify with applause; but the praises given to his correspondents are +scattered in the air, none can tell on whom they will light, and +therefore none are unwilling to bestow them. + +He that is known to contribute to a periodical work, needs no other +caution than not to tell what particular pieces are his own; such +secrecy is indeed very difficult; but if it can be maintained, it is +scarcely to be imagined at how small an expense he may grow +considerable. + +A person of quality, by a single paper, may engross the honour of a +volume. Fame is indeed dealt with a hand less and less bounteous through +the subordinate ranks, till it descends to the professed author, who +will find it very difficult to get more than he deserves; but every man +who does not want it, or who needs not value it, may have liberal +allowances; and, for five letters in the year sent to the Idler, of +which perhaps only two are printed, will be promoted to the first rank +of writers by those who are weary of the present race of wits, and wish +to sink them into obscurity before the lustre of a name not yet known +enough to be detested. + +[1] See Knox's Essays, Number 50. + + + + +No. 3. SATURDAY, APRIL 29, 1758. + + --_Otia vitae + Solamur cantu_. STAT. + +It has long been the complaint of those who frequent the theatres, that +all the dramatick art has been long exhausted, and that the vicissitudes +of fortune, and accidents of life, have been shown in every possible +combination, till the first scene informs us of the last, and the play +no sooner opens, than every auditor knows how it will conclude. When a +conspiracy is formed in a tragedy, we guess by whom it will be detected; +when a letter is dropt in a comedy, we can tell by whom it will be +found. Nothing is now left for the poet but character and sentiment, +which are to make their way as they can, without the soft anxiety of +suspense, or the enlivening agitation of surprise. + +A new paper lies under the same disadvantages as a new play. There is +danger lest it be new without novelty. My earlier predecessors had their +choice of vices and follies, and selected such as were most likely to +raise merriment or attract attention; they had the whole field of life +before them, untrodden and unsurveyed; characters of every kind shot up +in their way, and those of the most luxuriant growth, or most +conspicuous colours, were naturally cropt by the first sickle. They that +follow are forced to peep into neglected corners, to note the casual +varieties of the same species, and to recommend themselves by minute +industry and distinctions too subtle for common eyes. + +Sometimes it may happen, that the haste or negligence of the first +inquirers has left enough behind to reward another search; sometimes new +objects start up under the eye, and he that is looking for one kind of +matter, is amply gratified by the discovery of another. But still it +must be allowed, that, as more is taken, less can remain; and every +truth brought newly to light impoverishes the mine, from which +succeeding intellects are to dig their treasures. + +Many philosophers imagine, that the elements themselves may be in time +exhausted; that the sun, by shining long, will effuse all its light; and +that, by the continual waste of aqueous particles, the whole earth will +at last become a sandy desert. + +I would not advise my readers to disturb themselves by contriving how +they shall live without light and water. For the days of universal +thirst and perpetual darkness are at a great distance. The ocean and the +sun will last our time, and we may leave posterity to shift for +themselves. + +But if the stores of nature are limited, much more narrow bounds must be +set to the modes of life; and mankind may want a moral or amusing paper, +many years before they shall be deprived of drink or day-light. This +want, which to the busy and the inventive may seem easily remediable by +some substitute or other, the whole race of Idlers will feel with all +the sensibility that such torpid animals can suffer. + +When I consider the innumerable multitudes that, having no motive of +desire, or determination of will, lie freezing in perpetual inactivity, +till some external impulse puts them in motion; who awake in the +morning, vacant of thought, with minds gaping for the intellectual food, +which some kind essayist has been accustomed to supply; I am moved by +the commiseration with which all human beings ought to behold the +distresses of each other, to try some expedients for their relief, and +to inquire by what methods the listless may be actuated, and the empty +be replenished. + +There are said to be pleasures in madness known only to madmen. There +are certainly miseries in idleness, which the Idler only can conceive. +These miseries I have often felt and often bewailed. I know by +experience, how welcome is every avocation that summons the thoughts to +a new image; and how much languor and lassitude are relieved by that +officiousness which offers a momentary amusement to him who is unable to +find it for himself. + +It is naturally indifferent to this race of men what entertainment they +receive, so they are but entertained. They catch, with equal eagerness, +at a moral lecture, or the memoirs of a robber; a prediction of the +appearance of a comet, or the calculation of the chances of a lottery. + +They might therefore easily be pleased, if they consulted only their own +minds; but those who will not take the trouble to think for themselves, +have always somebody to think for them; and the difficulty in writing is +to please those from whom others learn to be pleased. + +Much mischief is done in the world with very little interest or design. +He that assumes the character of a critick, and justifies his claim by +perpetual censure, imagines that he is hurting none but the author, and +him he considers as a pestilent animal, whom every other being has a +right to persecute; little does he think how many harmless men he +involves in his own guilt, by teaching them to be noxious without +malignity, and to repeat objections which they do not understand; or how +many honest minds he debars from pleasure, by exciting an artificial +fastidiousness, and making them too wise to concur with their own +sensations. He who is taught by a critick to dislike that which pleased +him in his natural state, has the same reason to complain of his +instructer, as the madman to rail at his doctor, who, when he thought +himself master of Peru, physicked him to poverty. + +If men will struggle against their own advantage, they are not to expect +that the Idler will take much pains upon them; he has himself to please +as well as them, and has long learned, or endeavoured to learn, not to +make the pleasure of others too necessary to his own. + + + + +No. 4. SATURDAY, MAY 6, 1758. + + [Greek: Pantas gar phileeske.] HOM. + +Charity, or tenderness for the poor, which is now justly considered, by +a great part of mankind, as inseparable from piety, and in which almost +all the goodness of the present age consists, is, I think, known only to +those who enjoy, either immediately or by transmission, the light of +revelation. + +Those ancient nations who have given us the wisest models of government, +and the brightest examples of patriotism, whose institutions have been +transcribed by all succeeding legislatures, and whose history is studied +by every candidate for political or military reputation, have yet left +behind them no mention of alms-houses or hospitals, or places where age +might repose, or sickness be relieved. + +The Roman emperours, indeed, gave large donatives to the citizens and +soldiers, but these distributions were always reckoned rather popular +than virtuous: nothing more was intended than an ostentation of +liberality, nor was any recompense expected, but suffrages and +acclamations. + +Their beneficence was merely occasional; he that ceased to need the +favour of the people, ceased likewise to court it; and, therefore, no +man thought it either necessary or wise to make any standing provision +for the needy, to look forwards to the wants of posterity, or to secure +successions of charity, for successions of distress. + +Compassion is by some reasoners, on whom the name of philosophers has +been too easily conferred, resolved into an affection merely selfish, an +involuntary perception of pain at the involuntary sight of a being like +ourselves languishing in misery. But this sensation, if ever it be felt +at all from the brute instinct of uninstructed nature, will only produce +effects desultory and transient; it will never settle into a principle +of action, or extend relief to calamities unseen, in generations not yet +in being. + +The devotion of life or fortune to the succour of the poor, is a height +of virtue, to which humanity has never risen by its own power. The +charity of the Mahometans is a precept which their teacher evidently +transplanted from the doctrines of Christianity; and the care with which +some of the Oriental sects attend, as is said, to the necessities of the +diseased and indigent, may be added to the other arguments, which prove +Zoroaster to have borrowed his institutions from the law of Moses. + +The present age, though not likely to shine hereafter among the most +splendid periods of history, has yet given examples of charity, which +may be very properly recommended to imitation. The equal distribution of +wealth, which long commerce has produced, does not enable any single +hand to raise edifices of piety like fortified cities, to appropriate +manors to religious uses, or deal out such large and lasting beneficence +as was scattered over the land in ancient times, by those who possessed +counties or provinces. But no sooner is a new species of misery brought +to view, and a design of relieving it professed, than every hand is open +to contribute something, every tongue is busied in solicitation, and +every art of pleasure is employed for a time in the interest of virtue. + +The most apparent and pressing miseries incident to man, have now their +peculiar houses of reception and relief; and there are few among us, +raised however little above the danger of poverty, who may not justly +claim, what is implored by the Mahometans in their most ardent +benedictions, the prayers of the poor. + +Among those actions which the mind can most securely review with +unabated pleasure, is that of having contributed to an hospital for the +sick. Of some kinds of charity the consequences are dubious: some evils +which beneficence has been busy to remedy, are not certainly known to be +very grievous to the sufferer, or detrimental to the community; but no +man can question whether wounds and sickness are not really painful; +whether it be not worthy of a good man's care to restore those to ease +and usefulness, from whose labour infants and women expect their bread, +and who, by a casual hurt, or lingering disease, lie pining in want and +anguish, burthensome to others, and weary of themselves. + +Yet as the hospitals of the present time subsist only by gifts bestowed +at pleasure, without any solid fund of support, there is danger lest the +blaze of charity, which now burns with so much heat and splendour, +should die away for want of lasting fuel; lest fashion should suddenly +withdraw her smile, and inconstancy transfer the publick attention to +something which may appear more eligible, because it will be new. + +Whatever is left in the hands of chance must be subject to vicissitude; +and when any establishment is found to be useful, it ought to be the +next care to make it permanent. + +But man is a transitory being, and his designs must partake of the +imperfections of their author. To confer duration is not always in our +power. We must snatch the present moment, and employ it well, without +too much solicitude for the future, and content ourselves with +reflecting that our part is performed. He that waits for an opportunity +to do much at once, may breathe out his life in idle wishes, and regret, +in the last hour, his useless intentions, and barren zeal. + +The most active promoters of the present schemes of charity cannot be +cleared from some instances of misconduct, which may awaken contempt or +censure, and hasten that neglect which is likely to come too soon of +itself. The open competitions between different hospitals, and the +animosity with which their patrons oppose one another, may prejudice +weak minds against them all. For it will not be easily believed, that +any man can, for good reasons, wish to exclude another from doing good. +The spirit of charity can only be continued by a reconciliation of these +ridiculous feuds; and therefore, instead of contentions who shall be the +only benefactors to the needy, let there be no other struggle than who +shall be the first. + + + + +No. 5. SATURDAY, MAY 13, 1758. + + --[Greek: Kallos + Ant egcheon hapanton + Ant aspidon hapason]. ANAC. + +Our military operations are at last begun; our troops are marching in +all the pomp of war, and a camp is marked out on the Isle of Wight; the +heart of every Englishman now swells with confidence, though somewhat +softened by generous compassion for the consternation and distresses of +our enemies. + +This formidable armament and splendid march produce different effects +upon different minds, according to the boundless diversities of temper, +occupation, and habits of thought. + +Many a tender maiden considers her lover as already lost, because he +cannot reach the camp but by crossing the sea; men of a more political +understanding are persuaded that we shall now see, in a few days, the +ambassadours of France supplicating for pity. Some are hoping for a +bloody battle, because a bloody battle makes a vendible narrative; some +are composing songs of victory; some planning arches of triumph; and +some are mixing fireworks for the celebration of a peace. + +Of all extensive and complicated objects, different parts are selected +by different eyes; and minds are variously affected, as they vary their +attention. The care of the publick is now fixed upon our soldiers, who +are leaving their native country to wander, none can tell how long, in +the pathless deserts of the Isle of Wight. The tender sigh for their +sufferings, and the gay drink to their success. I, who look, or believe +myself to look, with more philosophick eyes on human affairs, must +confess, that I saw the troops march with little emotion; my thoughts +were fixed upon other scenes, and the tear stole into my eyes, not for +those who were going away, but for those who were left behind. + +We have no reason to doubt but our troops will proceed with proper +caution; there are men among them who can take care of themselves. But +how shall the ladies endure without them? By what arts can they, who +have long had no joy but from the civilities of a soldier, now amuse +their hours, and solace their separation? + +Of fifty thousand men, now destined to different stations, if we allow +each to have been occasionally necessary only to four women, a short +computation will inform us, that two hundred thousand ladies are left to +languish in distress; two hundred thousand ladies, who must run to sales +and auctions without an attendant; sit at the play, without a critick to +direct their opinion; buy their fans by their own judgment; dispose +shells by their own invention; walk in the Mall without a gallant; go to +the gardens without a protector; and shuffle cards with vain impatience, +for want of a fourth to complete the party. + +Of these ladies, some, I hope, have lap-dogs, and some monkeys; but they +are unsatisfactory companions. Many useful offices are performed by men +of scarlet, to which neither dog nor monkey has adequate abilities. A +parrot, indeed, is as fine as a colonel, and, if he has been much used +to good company, is not wholly without conversation; but a parrot, after +all, is a poor little creature, and has neither sword nor shoulder-knot, +can neither dance nor play at cards. + +Since the soldiers must obey the call of their duty, and go to that side +of the kingdom which faces France, I know not why the ladies, who cannot +live without them, should not follow them. The prejudices and pride of +man have long presumed the sword and spindle made for different hands, +and denied the other sex to partake the grandeur of military glory. This +notion may be consistently enough received in France, where the salick +law excludes females from the throne; but we, who allow them to be +sovereigns, may surely suppose them capable to be soldiers. + +It were to be wished that some man, whose experience and authority might +enforce regard, would propose that our encampments for the present year +should comprise an equal number of men and women, who should march and +fight in mingled bodies. If proper colonels were once appointed, and the +drums ordered to beat for female volunteers, our regiments would soon be +filled without the reproach or cruelty of an impress. + +Of these heroines, some might serve on foot under the denomination of +the _Female Buffs_, and some on horseback, with the title of _Lady +Hussars_. + +What objections can be made to this scheme I have endeavoured maturely +to consider; and cannot find that a modern soldier has any duties, +except that of obedience, which a lady cannot perform. If the hair has +lost its powder, a lady has a puff; if a coat be spotted, a lady has a +brush. Strength is of less importance since fire-arms have been used; +blows of the hand are now seldom exchanged; and what is there to be done +in the charge or the retreat beyond the powers of a sprightly maiden? + +Our masculine squadrons will not suppose themselves disgraced by their +auxiliaries, till they have done something which women could not have +done. The troops of Braddock never saw their enemies, and perhaps were +defeated by women. If our American general had headed an army of girls, +he might still have built a fort and taken it. Had Minorca been defended +by a female garrison, it might have been surrendered, as it was, without +a breach; and I cannot but think, that seven thousand women might have +ventured to look at Rochfort, sack a village, rob a vineyard, and return +in safety. + + + + +No. 6. SATURDAY, MAY 20, 1758. + + [Greek: Tameion aretaes gennaia gynae]. GR. PRO. + +The lady who had undertaken to ride on one horse a thousand miles in a +thousand hours, has completed her journey in little more than two-thirds +of the time stipulated, and was conducted through the last mile with +triumphal honours. Acclamation shouted before her, and all the flowers +of the spring were scattered in her way. + +Every heart ought to rejoice when true merit is distinguished with +publick notice. I am far from wishing either to the amazon or her horse +any diminution of happiness or fame, and cannot but lament that they +were not more amply and suitably rewarded. + +There was once a time when wreaths of bays or oak were considered as +recompenses equal to the most wearisome labours and terrifick dangers, +and when the miseries of long marches and stormy seas were at once +driven from the remembrance by the fragrance of a garland. + +If this heroine had been born in ancient times, she might perhaps have +been delighted with the simplicity of ancient gratitude; or if any thing +was wanting to full satisfaction, she might have supplied the deficiency +with the hope of deification, and anticipated the altars that would be +raised, and the vows that would be made, by future candidates for +equestrian glory, to the patroness of the race and the goddess of the +stable. + +But fate reserved her for a more enlightened age, which has discovered +leaves and flowers to be transitory things; which considers profit as +the end of honour; and rates the event of every undertaking only by the +money that is gained or lost. In these days, to strew the road with +daisies and lilies, is to mock merit, and delude hope. The toyman will +not give his jewels, nor the mercer measure out his silks, for vegetable +coin. A primrose, though picked up under the feet of the most renowned +courser, will neither be received as a stake at cards, nor procure a +seat at an opera, nor buy candles for a rout, nor lace for a livery. And +though there are many virtuosos, whose sole ambition is to possess +something which can be found in no other hand, yet some are more +accustomed to store their cabinets by theft than purchase, and none of +them would either steal or buy one of the flowers of gratulation till he +knows that all the rest are totally destroyed. + +Little therefore did it avail this wonderful lady to be received, +however joyfully, with such obsolete and barren ceremonies of praise. +Had the way been covered with guineas, though but for the tenth part of +the last mile, she would have considered her skill and diligence as not +wholly lost; and might have rejoiced in the speed and perseverance which +had left her such superfluity of time, that she could at leisure gather +her reward without the danger of Atalanta's miscarriage. + +So much ground could not indeed have been paved with gold but at a large +expense, and we are at present engaged in a war, which demands and +enforces frugality. But common rules are made only for common life, and +some deviation from general policy may be allowed in favour of a lady +that rode a thousand miles in a thousand hours. + +Since the spirit of antiquity so much prevails amongst us, that even on +this great occasion we have given flowers instead of money, let us at +least complete our imitation of the ancients, and endeavour to transmit +to posterity the memory of that virtue, which we consider as superior to +pecuniary recompense. Let an equestrian statue of this heroine be +erected, near the starting-post on the heath of Newmarket, to fill +kindred souls with emulation, and tell the grand-daughters of our +grand-daughters what an English maiden has once performed. + +As events, however illustrious, are soon obscured if they are intrusted +to tradition, I think it necessary, that the pedestal should be +inscribed with a concise account of this great performance. The +composition of this narrative ought not to be committed rashly to +improper hands. If the rhetoricians of Newmarket, who may be supposed +likely to conceive in its full strength the dignity of the subject, +should undertake to express it, there is danger lest they admit some +phrases which, though well understood at present, may be ambiguous in +another century. If posterity should read on a publick monument, that +_the lady carried her horse a thousand miles in a thousand hours_, they +may think that the statue and inscription are at variance, because one +will represent the horse as carrying his lady, and the other tell that +the lady carried her horse. + +Some doubts likewise may be raised by speculatists, and some +controversies be agitated among historians, concerning the motive as +well as the manner of the action. As it will be known, that this wonder +was performed in a time of war, some will suppose that the lady was +frighted by invaders, and fled to preserve her life or her chastity: +others will conjecture, that she was thus honoured for some intelligence +carried of the enemy's designs: some will think that she brought news of +a victory; others, that she was commissioned to tell of a conspiracy; +and some will congratulate themselves on their acuter penetration, and +find, that all these notions of patriotism and publick spirit are +improbable and chimerical; they will confidently tell, that she only ran +away from her guardians, and that the true causes of her speed were fear +and love. + +Let it therefore be carefully mentioned, that by this performance _she +won her wager_; and, lest this should, by any change of manners, seem an +inadequate or incredible incitement, let it be added, that at this time +the original motives of human actions had lost their influence; that the +love of praise was extinct; the fear of infamy was become ridiculous; +and the only wish of an Englishman was, _to win his wager_[1]. + +[1] The incident, so pleasingly ridiculed in this paper, happened in + 1758; and the newspapers of the time gave it due importance. + + + + +No. 7. SATURDAY, MAY 27, 1758. + +One of the principal amusements of the _Idler_ is to read the works of +those minute historians the writers of news, who, though contemptuously +overlooked by the composers of bulky volumes, are yet necessary in a +nation where much wealth produces much leisure, and one part of the +people has nothing to do but to observe the lives and fortunes of the +other. + +To us, who are regaled every morning and evening with intelligence, and +are supplied from day to day with materials for conversation, it is +difficult to conceive how man can subsist without a newspaper, or to +what entertainment companies can assemble, in those wide regions of the +earth that have neither _Chronicles_ nor _Magazines_, neither _Gazettes_ +nor _Advertisers_, neither _Journals_ nor _Evening Posts_. + +There are never great numbers in any nation, whose reason or invention +can find employment for their tongues, who can raise a pleasing +discourse from their own stock of sentiments and images; and those few +who have qualified themselves by speculation for general disquisitions +are soon left without an audience. The common talk of men must relate to +facts in which the talkers have, or think they have, an interest; and +where such facts cannot be known, the pleasures of society will be +merely sensual. Thus the natives of the Mahometan empires, who approach +most nearly to European civility, have no higher pleasure at their +convivial assemblies than to hear a piper, or gaze upon a tumbler; and +no company can keep together longer than they are diverted by sounds or +shows. + +All foreigners remark, that the knowledge of the common people of +England is greater than that of any other vulgar. This superiority we +undoubtedly owe to the rivulets of intelligence, which are continually +trickling among us, which every one may catch, and of which every one +partakes[1]. + +This universal diffusion of instruction is, perhaps, not wholly without +its inconveniencies; it certainly fills the nation with superficial +disputants; enables those to talk who were born to work; and affords +information sufficient to elate vanity, and stiffen obstinacy, but too +little to enlarge the mind into complete skill for full comprehension. + +Whatever is found to gratify the publick, will be multiplied by the +emulation of venders beyond necessity or use. This plenty indeed +produces cheapness, but cheapness always ends in negligence and +depravation. + +The compilation of newspapers is often committed to narrow and mercenary +minds, not qualified for the task of delighting or instructing; who are +content to fill their paper, with whatever matter, without industry to +gather, or discernment to select. + +Thus journals are daily multiplied without increase of knowledge. The +tale of the morning paper is told again in the evening, and the +narratives of the evening are bought again in the morning. These +repetitions, indeed, waste time, but they do not shorten it. The most +eager peruser of news is tired before he has completed his labour; and +many a man, who enters the coffee-house in his nightgown and slippers, +is called away to his shop, or his dinner, before he has well considered +the state of Europe. + +It is discovered by Reaumur, that spiders might make silk, if they could +be persuaded to live in peace together. The writers of news, if they +could be confederated, might give more pleasure to the publick. The +morning and evening authors might divide an event between them; a single +action, and that not of much importance, might be gradually discovered, +so as to vary a whole week with joy, anxiety, and conjecture. + +We know that a French ship of war was lately taken by a ship of England; +but this event was suffered to burst upon us all at once, and then what +we knew already was echoed from day to day, and from week to week. + +Let us suppose these spiders of literature to spin together, and inquire +to what an extensive web such another event might be regularly drawn, +and how six morning and six evening writers might agree to retail their +articles. + +On _Monday Morning_ the Captain of a ship might arrive, who left the +_Friseur_ of _France_, and the _Bull-dog_, Captain _Grim_, in sight of +one another, so that an engagement seemed unavoidable. + +_Monday Evening._ A sound of cannon was heard off Cape Finisterre, +supposed to be those of the Bull-dog and Friseur. + +_Tuesday Morning._ It was this morning reported that the Bull-dog +engaged the Friseur, yard-arm and yard-arm, three glasses and a half, +but was obliged to sheer off for want of powder. It is hoped that +inquiry will be made into this affair in a proper place. + +_Tuesday Evening._ The account of the engagement between the Bull-dog +and Friseur was premature. + +_Wednesday Morning._ Another express is arrived, which brings news, that +the Friseur had lost all her masts, and three hundred of her men, in the +late engagement; and that Captain Grim is come into harbour much +shattered. + +_Wednesday Evening._ We hear that the brave Captain Grim, having +expended his powder, proposed to enter the Friseur sword in hand; but +that his lieutenant, the nephew of a certain nobleman, remonstrated +against it. + +_Thursday Morning_. We wait impatiently for a full account of the late +engagement between the Bull-dog and Friseur. + +_Thursday Evening_. It is said the order of the Bath will be sent to +Captain Grim. + +_Friday Morning_. A certain Lord of the Admiralty has been heard to say +of a certain Captain, that if he had done his duty, a certain French +ship might have been taken. It was not thus that merit was rewarded in +the days of Cromwell. + +_Friday Evening_. There is certain information at the Admiralty, that +the Friseur is taken, after a resistance of two hours. + +_Saturday Morning_. A letter from one of the gunners of the Bull-dog +mentions the taking of the Friseur, and attributes their success wholly +to the bravery and resolution of Captain Grim, who never owed any of his +advancement to borough-jobbers, or any other corrupters of the people. + +_Saturday Evening_. Captain Grim arrived at the Admiralty, with an +account that he engaged the Friseur, a ship of equal force with his own, +off Cape Finisterre, and took her after an obstinate resistance, having +killed one hundred and fifty of the French, with the loss of ninety-five +of his own men. + + + +[1] For some pleasing remarks on this subject see De Lolme on the + constitution of England, chap. 12. We cannot retrain from quoting + here the speech of Sir James Mackintosh in the well known Peltier + cause. "A sort of prophetic instinct, if I may so speak, seems to + have revealed to her (Queen Elizabeth) the importance of that great + instrument, for rousing and guiding the minds of men, of the effects + of which she had no experience; which, since her time, has changed + the condition of the world; but which few modern statesmen have + thoroughly understood, or wisely employed; which is no doubt + connected with many ridiculous and degrading details; which has + produced, and may again produce, terrible mischiefs; but of which + the influence must after all be considered as the most certain + effect of the most efficacious cause of civilization; and which, + whether it be a blessing or a curse, is the most powerful engine + that a politician can move--I mean the Press. It is a curious fact, + that in the year of the Armada, Queen Elizabeth caused to be printed + the first Gazettes that ever appeared in England." + + + + +No. 8. SATURDAY, JUNE 3, 1758. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Sir, + +In the time of publick danger, it is every man's duty to withdraw his +thoughts in some measure from his private interest, and employ part of +his time for the general welfare. National conduct ought to be the +result of national wisdom, a plan formed by mature consideration and +diligent selection out of all the schemes which may be offered, and all +the information which can be procured. + +In a battle, every man should fight as if he was the single champion; in +preparations for war, every man should think, as if the last event +depended on his counsel. None can tell what discoveries are within his +reach, or how much he may contribute to the publick safety. + +Full of these considerations, I have carefully reviewed the process of +the war, and find, what every other man has found, that we have hitherto +added nothing to our military reputation: that at one time we have been +beaten by enemies whom we did not see; and, at another, have avoided the +sight of enemies lest we should be beaten. + +Whether our troops are defective in discipline or in courage, is not +very useful to inquire; they evidently want something necessary to +success; and he that shall supply that want will deserve well of his +country. + +_To learn of an enemy_ has always been accounted politick and +honourable; and therefore I hope it will raise no prejudices against my +project, to confess that I borrowed it from a Frenchman. + +When the Isle of Rhodes was, many centuries ago, in the hands of that +military order now called the Knights of Malta, it was ravaged by a +dragon, who inhabited a den under a rock, from which he issued forth +when he was hungry or wanton, and without fear or mercy devoured men and +beasts as they came in his way. Many councils were held, and many +devices offered, for his destruction; but as his back was armed with +impenetrable scales, none would venture to attack him. At last Dudon, a +French knight, undertook the deliverance of the island. From some place +of security, he took a view of the dragon, or, as a modern soldier would +say, _reconnoitred_ him, and observed that his belly was naked and +vulnerable. He then returned home to make his _arrangements_; and, by a +very exact imitation of nature, made a dragon of pasteboard, in the +belly of which he put beef and mutton, and accustomed two sturdy +mastiffs to feed themselves by tearing their way to the concealed flesh. +When his dogs were well practised in this method of plunder, he marched +out with them at his heels, and showed them the dragon; they rushed upon +him in quest of their dinner; Dudon battered his scull, while they +lacerated his belly; and neither his sting nor claws were able to defend +him. + +Something like this might be practised in our present state. Let a +fortification be raised on Salisbury Plain, resembling Brest, or Toulon, +or Paris itself, with all the usual preparation for defence; let the +inclosure be filled with beef and ale: let the soldiers, from some +proper eminence, see shirts waving upon lines, and here and there a +plump landlady hurrying about with pots in her hands. When they are +sufficiently animated to advance, lead them in exact order, with fife +and drum, to that side whence the wind blows, till they come within the +scent of roast meat and tobacco. Contrive that they may approach the +place fasting about an hour after dinner-time, assure them that there is +no danger, and command an attack. + +If nobody within either moves or speaks, it is not unlikely that they +may carry the place by storm; but if a panick should seize them, it will +be proper to defer the enterprise to a more hungry hour. When they have +entered, let them fill their bellies and return to the camp. + +On the next day let the same place be shown them again, but with some +additions of strength or terrour. I cannot pretend to inform our +generals through what gradations of danger they should train their men +to fortitude. They best know what the soldiers and what themselves can +bear. It will be proper that the war should every day vary its +appearance. Sometimes, as they mount the rampart, a cook may throw fat +upon the fire, to accustom them to a sudden blaze; and sometimes, by the +clatter of empty pots, they may be inured to formidable noises. But let +it never be forgotten, that victory must repose with a full belly. + +In time it will be proper to bring our French prisoners from the coast, +and place them upon the walls in martial order. At their first +appearance their hands must be tied, but they may be allowed to grin. In +a month they may guard the place with their hands loosed, provided that +on pain of death they be forbidden to strike. + +By this method our army will soon be brought to look an enemy in the +face. But it has been lately observed, that fear is received by the ear +as well as the eyes; and the Indian war-cry is represented as too +dreadful to be endured; as a sound that will force the bravest veteran +to drop his weapon, and desert his rank; that will deafen his ear, and +chill his breast; that will neither suffer him to hear orders or to feel +shame, or retain any sensibility but the dread of death. + +That the savage clamours of naked barbarians should thus terrify troops +disciplined to war, and ranged in array with arms in their hands, is +surely strange. But this is no time to reason. I am of opinion, that by +a proper mixture of asses, bulls, turkeys, geese, and tragedians, a +noise might be procured equally horrid with the war-cry. When our men +have been encouraged by frequent victories, nothing will remain but to +qualify them for extreme danger, by a sudden concert of terrifick +vociferation. When they have endured this last trial, let them be led to +action, as men who are no longer to be frightened; as men who can bear +at once the grimaces of the Gauls, and the howl of the Americans. + + + + +No. 9. SATURDAY, JUNE 10, 1758. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Sir, + +I have read you; that is a favour few authors can boast of having +received from me besides yourself. My intention in telling you of it is +to inform you, that you have both pleased and angered me. Never did +writer appear so delightful to me as you did when you adopted the name +of the _Idler_. But what a falling off was there when your first +production was brought to light! A natural irresistible attachment to +that favourable passion, _idling_, had led me to hope for indulgence +from the _Idler_, but I find him a stranger to the title. + +What rules has he proposed totally to unbrace the slackened nerve; to +shade the heavy eye of inattention; to give the smooth feature and the +uncontracted muscle; or procure insensibility to the whole animal +composition? + +These were some of the placid blessings I promised myself the enjoyment +of, when I committed violence upon myself by mustering up all my +strength to set about reading you; but I am disappointed in them all, +and the stroke of eleven in the morning is still as terrible to me as +before, and I find putting on my clothes still as painful and laborious. +Oh that our climate would permit that original nakedness which the +thrice happy Indians to this day enjoy! How many unsolicitous hours +should I bask away, warmed in bed by the sun's glorious beams, could I, +like them, tumble from thence in a moment, when necessity obliges me to +endure the torment of getting upon my legs! + +But wherefore do I talk to you upon subjects of this delicate nature? +you who seem ignorant of the inexpressible charms of the elbow-chair, +attended with a soft stool for the elevation of the feet! Thus, vacant +of thought, do I indulge the live-long day. + +You may define happiness as you please; I embrace that opinion which +makes it consist in the absence of pain. To reflect is pain; to stir is +pain; therefore I never reflect or stir but when I cannot help it. +Perhaps you will call my scheme of life indolence, and therefore think +the _Idler_ excused from taking any notice of me; but I have always +looked upon indolence and idleness as the same; and so desire you will +now and then, while you profess yourself of our fraternity, take some +notice of me, and others in my situation, who think they have a right to +your assistance; or relinquish the name. + +You may publish, burn, or destroy this, just as you are in the humour; +it is ten to one but I forget that I wrote it, before it reaches you. I +believe you may find a motto for it in Horace, but I cannot reach him +without getting out of my chair; that is a sufficient reason for my not +affixing any.--And being obliged to sit upright to ring the bell for my +servant to convey this to the penny-post, if I slip the opportunity of +his being now in the room, makes me break off abruptly[1]. + +This correspondent, whoever he be, is not to be dismissed without some +tokens of regard. There is no mark more certain of a genuine Idler, than +uneasiness without molestation, and complaint without a grievance. + +Yet my gratitude to the contributor of half a paper shall not wholly +overpower my sincerity. I must inform him, that, with all his +pretensions, he that calls for directions to be idle, is yet but in the +rudiments of idleness, and has attained neither the practice nor theory +of wasting life. The true nature of idleness he will know in time, by +continuing to be idle. Virgil tells us of an impetuous and rapid being, +that acquires strength by motion. The Idler acquires weight by lying +still. + +The _vis inertiae_, the quality of resisting all external impulses, is +hourly increasing; the restless and troublesome faculties of attention +and distinction, reflection on the past, and solicitude for the future, +by a long indulgence of idleness, will, like tapers in unelastick air, +be gradually extinguished; and the officious lover, the vigilant +soldier, the busy trader, may, by a judicious composure of his mind, +sink into a state approaching to that of brute matter; in which he shall +retain the consciousness of his own existence, only by an obtuse languor +and drowsy discontent. + +This is the lowest stage to which the favourites of idleness can +descend; these regions of undelighted quiet can be entered by few. Of +those that are prepared to sink down into their shade, some are roused +into action by avarice or ambition, some are awakened by the voice of +fame, some allured by the smile of beauty, and many withheld by the +importunities of want. Of all the enemies of idleness, want is the most +formidable. Fame is soon found to be a sound, and love a dream; avarice +and ambition may be justly suspected of privy confederacies with +idleness; for, when they have for a while protected their votaries, they +often deliver them up to end their lives under her dominion. Want always +struggles against idleness, but want herself is often overcome; and +every hour shows the careful observer those who had rather live in ease +than in plenty. + +So wide is the region of Idleness, and so powerful her influence. But +she does not immediately confer all her gifts. My correspondent, who +seems, with all his errours, worthy of advice, must be told, that he is +calling too hastily for the last effusion of total insensibility. +Whatever he may have been taught by unskilful Idlers to believe, labour +is necessary in his initiation to idleness. He that never labours may +know the pains of idleness, but not the pleasure. The comfort is, that +if he devotes himself to insensibility, he will daily lengthen the +intervals of idleness, and shorten those of labour, till at last he will +lie down to rest, and no longer disturb the world or himself by bustle +or competition. + +Thus I have endeavoured to give him that information which, perhaps, +after all, he did not want; for a true Idler often calls for that which +he knows is never to be had, and asks questions which he does not desire +ever to be answered. + +[1] By an unknown correspondent. + + + + +No. 10. SATURDAY, JUNE 17, 1758. + +Credulity, or confidence of opinion too great for the evidence from +which opinion is derived, we find to be a general weakness imputed by +every sect and party to all others, and indeed by every man to every +other man. + +Of all kinds of credulity, the most obstinate and wonderful is that of +political zealots; of men, who being numbered, they know not how or why, +in any of the parties that divide a state, resign the use of their own +eyes and ears, and resolve to believe nothing that does not favour those +whom they profess to follow. + +The bigot of philosophy is seduced by authorities which he has not +always opportunities to examine, is entangled in systems by which truth +and falsehood are inextricably complicated, or undertakes to talk on +subjects which nature did not form him able to comprehend. + +The Cartesian, who denies that his horse feels the spur, or that the +hare is afraid when the hounds approach her; the disciple of Malbranche, +who maintains that the man was not hurt by the bullet, which, according +to vulgar apprehension, swept away his legs; the follower of Berkeley, +who while he sits writing at his table, declares that he has neither +table, paper, nor fingers; have all the honour at least of being +deceived by fallacies not easily detected, and may plead that they did +not forsake truth, but for appearances which they were not able to +distinguish from it. + +But the man who engages in a party has seldom to do with any thing +remote or abstruse. The present state of things is before his eyes; and, +if he cannot be satisfied without retrospection, yet he seldom extends +his views beyond the historical events of the last century. All the +knowledge that he can want is within his attainment, and most of the +arguments which he can hear are within his capacity. + +Yet so it is, that an Idler meets every hour of his life with men who +have different opinions upon every thing past, present, and future; who +deny the most notorious facts, contradict the most cogent truths, and +persist in asserting to-day what they asserted yesterday, in defiance of +evidence, and contempt of confutation. + +Two of my companions, who are grown old in idleness, are Tom Tempest and +Jack Sneaker. Both of them consider themselves as neglected by their +parties, and therefore entitled to credit; for why should they favour +ingratitude? They are both men of integrity, where no factious interest +is to be promoted; and both lovers of truth, when they are not heated +with political debate. + +Tom Tempest is a steady friend to the house of Stuart. He can recount +the prodigies that have appeared in the sky, and the calamities that +have afflicted the nation every year from the Revolution; and is of +opinion, that, if the exiled family had continued to reign, there would +have neither been worms in our ships nor caterpillars in our trees. He +wonders that the nation was not awakened by the hard frost to a +revocation of the true king, and is hourly afraid that the whole island +will be lost in the sea. He believes that king William burned Whitehall +that he might steal the furniture; and that Tillotson died an atheist. +Of queen Anne he speaks with more tenderness, owns that she meant well, +and can tell by whom and why she was poisoned. In the succeeding reigns +all has been corruption, malice, and design. He believes that nothing +ill has ever happened for these forty years by chance or errour; he +holds that the battle of Dettingen was won by mistake, and that of +Fontenoy lost by contract; that the Victory was sunk by a private order; +that Cornhill was fired by emissaries from the council; and the arch of +Westminster-bridge was so contrived as to sink on purpose that the +nation might be put to charge. He considers the new road to Islington as +an encroachment on liberty, and often asserts that _broad wheels_ will +be the ruin of England. + +Tom is generally vehement and noisy, but nevertheless has some secrets +which he always communicates in a whisper. Many and many a time has Tom +told me, in a corner, that our miseries were almost at an end, and that +we should see, in a month, another monarch on the throne; the time +elapses without a revolution; Tom meets me again with new intelligence, +the whole scheme is now settled, and we shall see great events in +another month. + +Jack Sneaker is a hearty adherent to the present establishment; he has +known those who saw the bed into which the Pretender was conveyed in a +warming-pan. He often rejoices that the nation was not enslaved by the +Irish. He believes that king William never lost a battle, and that if he +had lived one year longer he would have conquered France. He holds that +Charles the First was a Papist. He allows there were some good men in +the reign of queen Anne, but the peace of Utrecht brought a blast upon +the nation, and has been the cause of all the evil that we have suffered +to the present hour. He believes that the scheme of the South Sea was +well intended, but that it miscarried by the influence of France. He +considers a standing army as the bulwark of liberty, thinks us secured +from corruption by septennial parliaments, relates how we are enriched +and strengthened by the electoral dominions, and declares that the +publick debt is a blessing to the nation. + +Yet, amidst all this prosperity, poor Jack is hourly disturbed by the +dread of Popery. He wonders that some stricter laws are not made against +Papists, and is sometimes afraid that they are busy with French gold +among the bishops and judges. + +He cannot believe that the Nonjurors are so quiet for nothing, they must +certainly be forming some plot for the establishment of Popery; he does +not think the present oaths sufficiently binding, and wishes that some +better security could be found for the succession of Hanover. He is +zealous for the naturalization of foreign Protestants, and rejoiced at +the admission of the Jews to the English privileges, because he thought +a Jew would never be a Papist. + + + + +No. 11. SATURDAY, JUNE 24, 1758. + + --_Nec te quaesiveris extra_. PERS. + +It is commonly observed, that when two Englishmen meet, their first talk +is of the weather; they are in haste to tell each other, what each must +already know, that it is hot or cold, bright or cloudy, windy or calm. + +There are, among the numerous lovers of subtilties and paradoxes, some +who derive the civil institutions of every country from its climate, who +impute freedom and slavery to the temperature of the air, can fix the +meridian of vice and virtue, and tell at what degree of latitude we are +to expect courage or timidity, knowledge or ignorance. + +From these dreams of idle speculation, a slight survey of life, and a +little knowledge of history, are sufficient to awaken any inquirer, +whose ambition of distinction has not overpowered his love of truth. +Forms of government are seldom the result of much deliberation; they are +framed by chance in popular assemblies, or in conquered countries, by +despotick authority. Laws are often occasional, often capricious, made +always by a few, and sometimes by a single voice. Nations have changed +their characters; slavery is now no where more patiently endured, than +in countries once inhabited by the zealots of liberty. + +But national customs can arise only from general agreement; they are not +imposed, but chosen, and are continued only by the continuance of their +cause. An Englishman's notice of the weather is the natural consequence +of changeable skies and uncertain seasons. In many parts of the world, +wet weather and dry are regularly expected at certain periods; but in +our island every man goes to sleep, unable to guess whether he shall +behold in the morning a bright or cloudy atmosphere, whether his rest +shall be lulled by a shower, or broken by a tempest. We therefore +rejoice mutually at good weather, as at an escape from something that we +feared; and mutually complain of bad, as of the loss of something that +we hoped. + +Such is the reason of our practice; and who shall treat it with +contempt? Surely not the attendant on a court, whose business is to +watch the looks of a being weak and foolish as himself, and whose vanity +is to recount the names of men, who might drop into nothing, and leave +no vacuity; nor the proprietor of funds, who stops his acquaintance in +the street to tell him of the loss of half-a-crown; nor the inquirer +after news, who fills his head with foreign events, and talks of +skirmishes and sieges, of which no consequence will ever reach his +hearers or himself. The weather is a nobler and more interesting +subject; it is the present state of the skies, and of the earth, on +which plenty and famine are suspended, on which millions depend for the +necessaries of life. + +The weather is frequently mentioned for another reason, less honourable +to my dear countrymen. Our dispositions too frequently change with the +colour of the sky; and when we find ourselves cheerful and good-natured, +we naturally pay our acknowledgments to the powers of sunshine; or, if +we sink into dulness and peevishness, look round the horizon for an +excuse, and charge our discontent upon an easterly wind or a cloudy day. + +Surely nothing is more reproachful to a being endowed with reason, than +to resign its powers to the influence of the air, and live in dependence +on the weather and the wind, for the only blessings which nature has put +into our power, tranquillity and benevolence. To look up to the sky for +the nutriment of our bodies, is the condition of nature; to call upon +the sun for peace and gaiety, or deprecate the clouds lest sorrow should +overwhelm us, is the cowardice of idleness, and the idolatry of folly. + +Yet even in this age of inquiry and knowledge, when superstition is +driven away, and omens and prodigies have lost their terrours, we find +this folly countenanced by frequent examples. Those that laugh at the +portentous glare of a comet, and hear a crow with equal tranquillity +from the right or left, will yet talk of times and situations proper for +intellectual performances, will imagine the fancy exalted by vernal +breezes, and the reason invigorated by a bright calm. + +If men who have given up themselves to fanciful credulity would confine +their conceits in their own minds, they might regulate their lives by +the barometer, with inconvenience only to themselves; but to fill the +world with accounts of intellects subject to ebb and flow, of one genius +that awakened in the spring, and another that ripened in the autumn, of +one mind expanded in the summer, and of another concentrated in the +winter, is no less dangerous than to tell children of bugbears and +goblins. Fear will find every house haunted; and idleness will wait for +ever for the moment of illumination. + +This distinction of seasons is produced only by imagination operating on +luxury. To temperance every day is bright, and every hour is propitious +to diligence. He that shall resolutely excite his faculties, or exert +his virtues, will soon make himself superior to the seasons, and may set +at defiance the morning mist, and the evening damp, the blasts of the +east, and the clouds of the south. + +It was the boast of the Stoick philosophy, to make man unshaken by +calamity, and unelated by success, incorruptible by pleasure, and +invulnerable by pain; these are heights of wisdom which none ever +attained, and to which few can aspire; but there are lower degrees of +constancy necessary to common virtue; and every man, however he may +distrust himself in the extremes of good or evil, might at least +struggle against the tyranny of the climate, and refuse to enslave his +virtue or his reason to the most variable of all variations, the changes +of the weather. + + + + +No. 12. SATURDAY, JULY 1, 1758. + +That every man is important in his own eyes, is a position of which we +all either voluntarily or unwarily at least once an hour confess the +truth; and it will unavoidably follow, that every man believes himself +important to the publick. The right which this importance gives us to +general notice and visible distinction, is one of those disputable +privileges which we have not always courage to assert; and which we +therefore suffer to lie dormant till some elation of mind, or +vicissitude of fortune, incites us to declare our pretensions and +enforce our demands. And hopeless as the claim of vulgar characters may +seem to the supercilious and severe, there are few who do not at one +time or other endeavour to step forward beyond their rank; who do not +make some struggles for fame, and show that they think all other +conveniencies and delights imperfectly enjoyed without a name. + +To get a name, can happen but to few. A name, even in the most +commercial nation, is one of the few things which cannot be bought. It +is the free gift of mankind, which must be deserved before it will be +granted, and is at last unwillingly bestowed. But this unwillingness +only increases desire in him who believes his merit sufficient to +overcome it. + +There is a particular period of life, in which this fondness for a name +seems principally to predominate in both sexes. Scarce any couple comes +together but the nuptials are declared in the newspapers with encomiums +on each party. Many an eye, ranging over the page with eager curiosity +in quest of statesmen and heroes, is stopped by a marriage celebrated +between Mr. Buckram, an eminent salesman in Threadneedle-street, and +Miss Dolly Juniper, the only daughter of an eminent distiller, of the +parish of St. Giles's in the Fields, a young lady adorned with every +accomplishment that can give happiness to the married state. Or we are +told, amidst our impatience for the event of a battle, that on a certain +day Mr. Winker, a tide-waiter at Yarmouth, was married to Mrs. Cackle, a +widow lady of great accomplishments, and that as soon as the ceremony +was performed they set out in a post-chaise for Yarmouth. + +Many are the inquiries which such intelligence must undoubtedly raise, +but nothing in this world is lasting. When the reader has contemplated +with envy, or with gladness, the felicity of Mr. Buckram and Mr. Winker, +and ransacked his memory for the names of Juniper and Cackle, his +attention is diverted to other thoughts, by finding that Mirza will not +cover this season; or that a spaniel has been lost or stolen, that +answers to the name of Ranger. + +Whence it arises that on the day of marriage all agree to call thus +openly for honours, I am not able to discover. Some, perhaps, think it +kind, by a publick declaration, to put an end to the hopes of rivalry +and the fears of jealousy, to let parents know that they may set their +daughters at liberty whom they have locked up for fear of the +bridegroom, or to dismiss to their counters and their offices the +amorous youths that had been used to hover round the dwelling of the +bride. + +These connubial praises may have another cause. It may be the intention +of the husband and wife to dignify themselves in the eyes of each other, +and, according to their different tempers or expectations, to win +affection, or enforce respect. + +It was said of the family of Lucas, that it was _noble_, for _all the +brothers were valiant, and all the sisters were virtuous_. What would a +stranger say of the _English_ nation, in which on the day of marriage +all the men are _eminent_, and all the women _beautiful, accomplished_, +and _rich_? + +How long the wife will be persuaded of the eminence of her husband, or +the husband continue to believe that his wife has the qualities required +to make marriage happy, may reasonably be questioned. I am afraid that +much time seldom passes before each is convinced that praises are +fallacious, and particularly those praises which we confer upon +ourselves. + +I should therefore think, that this custom might be omitted without any +loss to the community; and that the sons and daughters of lanes and +alleys might go hereafter to the next church, with no witnesses of their +worth or happiness but their parents and their friends; but if they +cannot be happy on the bridal day without some gratification of their +vanity, I hope they will be willing to encourage a friend of mine who +proposes to devote his powers to their service. + +Mr. Settle, a man whose _eminence_ was once allowed by the _eminent_, +and whose _accomplishments_ were confessed by the _accomplished_, in the +latter part of a long life supported himself by an uncommon expedient. +He had a standing elegy and epithalamium, of which only the first and +last were leaves varied occasionally, and the intermediate pages were, +by general terms, left applicable alike to every character. When any +marriage became known, Settle ran to the bridegroom with his +epithalamium; and when he heard of any death, ran to the heir with his +elegy. + +Who can think himself disgraced by a trade that was practised so long by +the rival of Dryden, by the poet whose "Empress of Morocco" was played +before princes by ladies of the court? + +My friend purposes to open an office in the Fleet for matrimonial +panegyricks, and will accommodate all with praise who think their own +powers of expression inadequate to their merit. He will sell any man or +woman the virtue or qualification which is most fashionable or most +desired; but desires his customers to remember, that he sets beauty at +the highest price, and riches at the next, and, if he be well paid, +throws in virtue for nothing. + + + + +No. 13. SATURDAY, JULY 8, 1758. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Dear Mr. Idler, + +Though few men of prudence are much inclined to interpose in disputes +between man and wife, who commonly make peace at the expense of the +arbitrator; yet I will venture to lay before you a controversy, by which +the quiet of my house has been long disturbed, and which, unless you can +decide it, is likely to produce lasting evils, and embitter those hours +which nature seems to have appropriated to tenderness and repose. + +I married a wife with no great fortune, but of a family remarkable for +domestick prudence, and elegant frugality. I lived with her at ease, if +not with happiness, and seldom had any reason of complaint. The house +was always clean, the servants were active and regular, dinner was on +the table every day at the same minute, and the ladies of the +neighbourhood were frightened when I invited their husbands, lest their +own economy should be less esteemed. + +During this gentle lapse of life, my dear brought me three daughters. I +wished for a son, to continue the family; but my wife often tells me, +that boys are dirty things, and are always troublesome in a house; and +declares that she has hated the sight of them ever since she saw lady +Fondle's eldest son ride over a carpet with his hobby-horse all mire. + +I did not much attend to her opinion, but knew that girls could not be +made boys; and therefore composed myself to bear what I could not +remedy, and resolved to bestow that care on my daughters, to which only +the sons are commonly thought entitled. + +But my wife's notions of education differ widely from mine. She is an +irreconcilable enemy to idleness, and considers every state of life as +idleness, in which the hands are not employed, or some art acquired, by +which she thinks money may be got or saved. + +In pursuance of this principle, she calls up her daughters at a certain +hour, and appoints them a task of needlework to be performed before +breakfast. They are confined in a garret, which has its window in the +roof, both because work is best done at a sky-light, and because +children are apt to lose time by looking about them. + +They bring down their work to breakfast, and as they deserve are +commended or reproved; they are then sent up with a new task till +dinner; if no company is expected, their mother sits with them the whole +afternoon, to direct their operations, and to draw patterns, and is +sometimes denied to her nearest relations when she is engaged in +teaching them a new stitch. + +By this continual exercise of their diligence, she has obtained a very +considerable number of laborious performances. We have twice as many +fire-skreens as chimneys, and three flourished quilts for every bed. +Half the rooms are adorned with a kind of _sutile pictures_, which +imitate tapestry. But all their work is not set out to show; she has +boxes filled with knit garters and braided shoes. She has twenty covers +for side-saddles embroidered with silver flowers, and has curtains +wrought with gold in various figures, which she resolves some time or +other to hang up. All these she displays to her company whenever she is +elate with merit, and eager for praise; and amidst the praises which her +friends and herself bestow upon her merit, she never fails to turn to +me, and ask what all these would cost, if I had been to buy them. + +I sometimes venture to tell her, that many of the ornaments are +superfluous; that what is done with so much labour might have been +supplied by a very easy purchase; that the work is not always worth the +materials; and that I know not why the children should be persecuted +with useless tasks, or obliged to make shoes that are never worn. She +answers with a look of contempt, that men never care how money goes, and +proceeds to tell of a dozen new chairs for which she is contriving +covers, and of a couch which she intends to stand as a monument of +needle-work. + +In the mean time, the girls grow up in total ignorance of every thing +past, present, and future. Molly asked me the other day, whether Ireland +was in France, and was ordered by her mother to mend her hem. Kitty +knows not, at sixteen, the difference between a Protestant and a Papist, +because she has been employed three years in filling the side of a +closet with a hanging that is to represent Cranmer in the flames. And +Dolly, my eldest girl, is now unable to read a chapter in the Bible, +having spent all the time, which other children pass at school, in +working the interview between Solomon and the queen of Sheba. + +About a month ago, Tent and Turkey-stitch seemed at a stand; my wife +knew not what new work to introduce; I ventured to propose that the +girls should now learn to read and write, and mentioned the necessity of +a little arithmetick; but, unhappily, my wife has discovered that linen +wears out, and has bought the girls three little wheels, that they may +spin huckaback for the servants' table. I remonstrated, that with larger +wheels they might despatch in an hour what must now cost them a day; but +she told me, with irresistible authority, that any business is better +than idleness; that when these wheels are set upon a table, with mats +under them, they will turn without noise, and keep the girls upright; +that great wheels are not fit for gentlewomen; and that with these, +small as they are, she does not doubt but that the three girls, if they +are kept close, will spin every year as much cloth as would cost five +pounds if one were to buy it. + + + +No 14. SATURDAY, JULY 15, 1758. + +When Diogenes received a visit in his tub from Alexander the Great, and +was asked, according to the ancient forms of royal courtesy, what +petition he had to offer; "I have nothing," said he, "to ask, but that +you would remove to the other side, that you may not, by intercepting +the sunshine, take from me what you cannot give me." + +Such was the demand of Diogenes from the greatest monarch of the earth, +which those, who have less power than Alexander, may, with yet more +propriety, apply to themselves. He that does much good, may be allowed +to do sometimes a little harm. But if the opportunities of beneficence +be denied by fortune, innocence should at least be vigilantly preserved. + +It is well known, that time once passed never returns; and that the +moment which is lost, is lost for ever. Time therefore ought, above all +other kinds of property, to be free from invasion; and yet there is no +man who does not claim the power of wasting that time which is the right +of others. + +This usurpation is so general, that a very small part of the year is +spent by choice; scarcely any thing is done when it is intended, or +obtained when it is desired. Life is continually ravaged by invaders; +one steals away an hour, and another a day; one conceals the robbery by +hurrying us into business, another by lulling us with amusement; the +depredation is continued through a thousand vicissitudes of tumult and +tranquillity, till, having lost all, we can lose no more. + +This waste of the lives of men has been very frequently charged upon the +Great, whose followers linger from year to year in expectations, and die +at last with petitions in their hands. Those who raise envy will easily +incur censure. I know not whether statesmen and patrons do not suffer +more reproaches than they deserve, and may not rather themselves +complain, that they are given up a prey to pretensions without merit, +and to importunity without shame. + +The truth is, that the inconveniencies of attendance are more lamented +than felt. To the greater number solicitation is its own reward. To be +seen in good company, to talk of familiarities with men of power, to be +able to tell the freshest news, to gratify an inferior circle with +predictions of increase or decline of favour, and to be regarded as a +candidate for high offices, are compensations more than equivalent to +the delay of favours, which, perhaps, he that begs them has hardly +confidence to expect. + +A man conspicuous in a high station, who multiplies hopes that he may +multiply dependants, may be considered as a beast of prey, justly +dreaded, but easily avoided; his den is known, and they who would not be +devoured, need not approach it. The great danger of the waste of time is +from caterpillars and moths, who are not resisted, because they are not +feared, and who work on with unheeded mischiefs, and invisible +encroachments. + +He, whose rank or merit procures him the notice of mankind, must give up +himself, in a great measure, to the convenience or humour of those who +surround him. Every man, who is sick of himself, will fly to him for +relief; he that wants to speak will require him to hear; and he that +wants to hear will expect him to speak. Hour passes after hour, the noon +succeeds to morning, and the evening to noon, while a thousand objects +are forced upon his attention, which he rejects as fast as they are +offered, but which the custom of the world requires to be received with +appearance of regard. + +If we will have the kindness of others, we must endure their follies. He +who cannot persuade himself to withdraw from society, must be content to +pay a tribute of his time to a multitude of tyrants; to the loiterer, +who makes appointments which he never keeps; to the consulter, who asks +advice which he never takes; to the boaster, who blusters only to be +praised; to the complainer, who whines only to be pitied; to the +projector, whose happiness is to entertain his friends with expectations +which all but himself know to be vain; to the economist, who tells of +bargains and settlements; to the politician, who predicts the fate of +battles and breach of alliances; to the usurer, who compares the +different funds; and to the talker, who talks only because he loves to +be talking. + +To put every man in possession of his own time, and rescue the day from +this succession of usurpers, is beyond my power, and beyond my hope. +Yet, perhaps, some stop might be put to this unmerciful persecution, if +all would seriously reflect, that whoever pays a visit that is not +desired, or talks longer than the hearer is willing to attend, is guilty +of an injury which he cannot repair, and takes away that which he cannot +give. + + + + +No. 15. SATURDAY, JULY 22, 1758. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Sir, + +I have the misfortune to be a man of business; that, you will say, is a +most grievous one; but what makes it the more so to me, is, that my wife +has nothing to do: at least she had too good an education, and the +prospect of too good a fortune in reversion when I married her, to think +of employing herself either in my shop-affairs, or the management of my +family. + +Her time, you know, as well as my own, must be filled up some way or +other. For my part, I have enough to mind in weighing my goods out, and +waiting on my customers: but my wife, though she could be of as much use +as a shopman to me, if she would put her hand to it, is now only in my +way. She walks all the morning sauntering about the shop with her arms +through her pocket-holes or stands gaping at the door-sill, and looking +at every person that passes by. She is continually asking me a thousand +frivolous questions about every customer that comes in and goes out; and +all the while that I am entering any thing in my day-book, she is +lolling over the counter, and staring at it, as if I was only scribbling +or drawing figures for her amusement. Sometimes, indeed, she will take a +needle; but as she always works at the door, or in the middle of the +shop, she has so many interruptions, that she is longer hemming a towel, +or darning a stocking, than I am in breaking forty loaves of sugar, and +making it up into pounds. + +In the afternoons I am sure likewise to have her company, except she is +called upon by some of her acquaintance: and then, as we let out all the +upper part of our house, and have only a little room backwards for +ourselves, they either keep such a chattering, or else are calling out +every moment to me, that I cannot mind my business for them. + +My wife, I am sure, might do all the little matters our family requires; +and I could wish that she would employ herself in them; but, instead of +that, we have a girl to do the work, and look after a little boy about +two years old, which, I may fairly say, is the mother's own child. The +brat must be humoured in every thing: he is therefore suffered +constantly to play in the shop, pull all the goods about, and clamber up +the shelves to get at the plums and sugar. I dare not correct him; +because, if I did, I should have wife and maid both upon me at once. As +to the latter, she is as lazy and sluttish as her mistress; and because +she complains she has too much work, we can scarcely get her to do any +thing at all: nay, what is worse than that, I am afraid she is hardly +honest; and as she is intrusted to buy-in all our provisions, the jade, +I am sure, makes a market-penny out of every article. + +But to return to my deary.--The evenings are the only time, when it is +fine weather, that I am left to myself; for then she generally takes the +child out to give it milk in the Park. When she comes home again, she is +so fatigued with walking, that she cannot stir from her chair: and it is +an hour, after shop is shut, before I can get a bit of supper, while the +maid is taken up in undressing and putting the child to bed. + +But you will pity me much more, when I tell you the manner in which we +generally pass our Sundays. In the morning she is commonly too ill to +dress herself to go to church; she therefore never gets up till noon; +and, what is still more vexatious, keeps me in bed with her, when I +ought to be busily engaged in better employment. It is well if she can +get her things on by dinner-time; and, when that is over, I am sure to +be dragged out by her either to Georgia, or Hornsey Wood, or the White +Conduit House. Yet even these near excursions are so very fatiguing to +her, that, besides what it costs me in tea and hot rolls, and sillabubs, +and cakes for the boy, I am frequently forced to take a hackney-coach, +or drive them out in a one-horse chair. At other times, as my wife is +rather of the fattest, and a very poor walker, besides bearing her whole +weight upon my arm, I am obliged to carry the child myself. + +Thus, Sir, does she constantly drawl out her time, without either profit +or satisfaction; and, while I see my neighbours' wives helping in the +shop, and almost earning as much as their husbands, I have the +mortification to find that mine is nothing but a dead weight upon me. In +short, I do not know any greater misfortune can happen to a plain +hard-working tradesman, as I am, than to be joined to such a woman, who +is rather a clog than a helpmate to him. + +I am, Sir, +Your humble servant, + +ZACHARY TREACLE.[1] + +[1]An unknown correspondent. + + + + +No. 16. SATURDAY, JULY 29, 1758. + +I paid a visit yesterday to my old friend Ned Drugget, at his +country-lodgings. Ned began trade with a very small fortune; he took a +small house in an obscure street, and for some years dealt only in +remnants. Knowing that _light gains make a heavy purse_, he was content +with moderate profit: having observed or heard the effects of civility, +he bowed down to the counter-edge at the entrance and departure of every +customer, listened without impatience to the objections of the ignorant, +and refused without resentment the offers of the penurious. His only +recreation was to stand at his own door and look into the street. His +dinner was sent him from a neighbouring alehouse, and he opened and shut +the shop at a certain hour with his own hands. + +His reputation soon extended from one end of the street to the other; +and Mr. Drugget's exemplary conduct was recommended by every master to +his apprentice, and by every father to his son. Ned was not only +considered as a thriving trader, but as a man of elegance and +politeness, for he was remarkably neat in his dress, and would wear his +coat threadbare without spotting it; his hat was always brushed, his +shoes glossy, his wig nicely curled, and his stockings without a +wrinkle. With such qualifications it was not very difficult for him to +gain the heart of Miss Comfit, the only daughter of Mr. Comfit the +confectioner. + +Ned is one of those whose happiness marriage has increased. His wife had +the same disposition with himself; and his method of life was very +little changed, except that he dismissed the lodgers from the first +floor, and took the whole house into his own hands. + +He had already, by his parsimony, accumulated a considerable sum, to +which the fortune of his wife was now added. From this time he began to +grasp at greater acquisitions, and was always ready, with money in his +hand, to pick up the refuse of a sale, or to buy the stock of a trader +who retired from business. He soon added his parlour to his shop, and +was obliged a few months afterwards to hire a warehouse. + +He had now a shop splendidly and copiously furnished with every thing +that time had injured, or fashion had degraded, with fragments of +tissues, odd yards of brocade, vast bales of faded silk, and innumerable +boxes of antiquated ribbons. His shop was soon celebrated through all +quarters of the town, and frequented by every form of ostentatious +poverty. Every maid, whose misfortune it was to be taller than her lady, +matched her gown at Mr. Drugget's; and many a maiden, who had passed a +winter with her aunt in London, dazzled the rusticks, at her return, +with cheap finery which Drugget had supplied. His shop was often visited +in a morning by ladies who left their coaches in the next street, and +crept through the alley in linen gowns. Drugget knows the rank of his +customers by their bashfulness; and, when he finds them unwilling to be +seen, invites them up stairs, or retires with them to the back window. + +I rejoiced at the increasing prosperity of my friend, and imagined that, +as he grew rich, he was growing happy. His mind has partaken the +enlargement of his fortune. When I stepped in for the first five years, +I was welcomed only with a shake of the hand; in the next period of his +life, he beckoned across the way for a pot of beer; but for six years +past, he invites me to dinner; and, if he bespeaks me the day before, +never fails to regale me with a fillet of veal. + +His riches neither made him uncivil nor negligent; he rose at the same +hour, attended with the same assiduity, and bowed with the same +gentleness. But for some years he has been much inclined to talk of the +fatigues of business, and the confinement of a shop, and to wish that he +had been so happy as to have renewed his uncle's lease of a farm, that +he might have lived without noise and hurry, in a pure air, in the +artless society of honest villagers, and the contemplation of the works +of nature. + +I soon discovered the cause of my friend's philosophy. He thought +himself grown rich enough to have a lodging in the country, like the +mercers on Ludgate-hill, and was resolved to enjoy himself in the +decline of life. This was a revolution not to be made suddenly. He +talked three years of the pleasures of the country, but passed every +night over his own shop. But at last he resolved to be happy, and hired +a lodging in the country, that he may steal some hours in the week from +business; for, says he, _when a man advances in life, he loves to +entertain himself sometimes with his own thoughts._ + +I was invited to this seat of quiet and contemplation, among those whom +Mr. Drugget considers as his most reputable friends, and desires to make +the first witnesses of his elevation to the highest dignities of a +shopkeeper. I found him at Islington, in a room which overlooked the +high road, amusing himself with looking through the window, which the +clouds of dust would not suffer him to open. He embraced me, told me I +was welcome into the country, and asked me if I did not feel myself +refreshed. He then desired that dinner might be hastened, for fresh air +always sharpened his appetite, and ordered me a toast and a glass of +wine after my walk. He told me much of the pleasures he found in +retirement, and wondered what had kept him so long out of the country. +After dinner company came in, and Mr. Drugget again repeated the praises +of the country, recommended the pleasures of meditation, and told them +that he had been all the morning at the window, counting the carriages +as they passed before him. + + + + +No. 17. SATURDAY, AUGUST 5, 1758. + + _Surge tandem Carnifex_[1]. MAECENAS AD AUGUSTUM. + +The rainy weather, which has continued the last month, is said to have +given great disturbance to the inspectors of barometers. The oraculous +glasses have deceived their votaries; shower has succeeded shower, +though they predicted sunshine and dry skies; and, by fatal confidence +in these fallacious promises, many coats have lost their gloss, and many +curls been moistened to flaccidity. + +This is one of the distresses to which mortals subject themselves by the +pride of speculation. I had no part in this learned disappointment, who +am content to credit my senses, and to believe that rain will fall when +the air blackens, and that the weather will be dry when the sun is +bright. My caution, indeed, does not always preserve me from a shower. +To be wet may happen to the genuine Idler; but to be wet in opposition +to theory, can befall only the Idler that pretends to be busy. Of those +that spin out life in trifles and die without a memorial, many flatter +themselves with high opinions of their own importance, and imagine that +they are every day adding some improvement to human life. To be idle and +to be poor have always been reproaches, and therefore every man +endeavours, with his utmost care, to hide his poverty from others, and +his idleness from himself. + +Among those whom I never could persuade to rank themselves with Idlers, +and who speak with indignation of my morning sleeps and nocturnal +rambles; one passes the day in catching spiders, that he may count their +eyes with a microscope; another erects his head, and exhibits the dust +of a marigold separated from the flower with a dexterity worthy of +Leuwenhoeck himself. Some turn the wheel of electricity; some suspend +rings to a load-stone, and find that what they did yesterday they can do +again to-day. Some register the changes of the wind, and die fully +convinced that the wind is changeable. + +There are men yet more profound, who have heard that two colourless +liquors may produce a colour by union, and that two cold bodies will +grow hot if they are mingled; they mingle them, and produce the effect +expected, say it is strange, and mingle them again. + +The Idlers that sport only with inanimate nature may claim some +indulgence; if they are useless, they are still innocent: but there are +others, whom I know not how to mention without more emotion than my love +of quiet willingly admits. Among the inferior professors of medical +knowledge, is a race of wretches, whose lives are only varied by +varieties of cruelty; whose favourite amusement is to nail dogs to +tables and open them alive; to try how long life may be continued in +various degrees of mutilation, or with the excision or laceration of the +vital parts; to examine whether burning irons are felt more acutely by +the bone or tendon; and whether the more lasting agonies are produced by +poison forced into the mouth, or injected into the veins. + +It is not without reluctance that I offend the sensibility of the tender +mind with images like these. If such cruelties were not practised, it +were to be desired that they should not be conceived; but, since they +are published every day with ostentation, let me be allowed once to +mention them, since I mention them with abhorrence. + +Mead has invidiously remarked of Woodward, that he gathered shells and +stones, and would pass for a philosopher. With pretensions much less +reasonable, the anatomical novice tears out the living bowels of an +animal, and styles himself physician, prepares himself by familiar +cruelty for that profession which he is to exercise upon the tender and +the helpless, upon feeble bodies and broken minds, and by which he has +opportunities to extend his arts of torture, and continue those +experiments upon infancy and age, which he has hitherto tried upon cats +and dogs. + +What is alleged in defence of these hateful practices, every one knows; +but the truth is, that by knives, fire, and poison, knowledge is not +always sought, and is very seldom attained. The experiments that have +been tried, are tried again; he that burned an animal with irons +yesterday, will be willing to amuse himself with burning another +to-morrow. I know not, that by living dissections any discovery has been +made by which a single malady is more easily cured. And if the knowledge +of physiology has been somewhat increased, he surely buys knowledge +dear, who learns the use of the lacteals at the expense of his humanity. +It is time that universal resentment should arise against these horrid +operations, which tend to harden the heart, extinguish those sensations +which give man confidence in man, and make the physician more dreadful +than the gout or stone. + +[1] Dr. Johnson gave this, among other mottos, to Mrs. Piozzi. They will + be inserted in this Edition in their proper places, and indicated by + an asterisk. See Mrs. Piozzi's Anecdotes, and Chalmers' British + Essayists, vol. 33. + + + + +No. 18. SATURDAY, AUGUST 12, 1758. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Sir, + +It commonly happens to him who endeavours to obtain distinction by +ridicule or censure, that he teaches others to practise his own arts +against himself; and that, after a short enjoyment of the applause paid +to his sagacity, or of the mirth excited by his wit, he is doomed to +suffer the same severities of scrutiny, to hear inquiry detecting his +faults, and exaggeration sporting with his failings. + +The natural discontent of inferiority will seldom fail to operate in +some degree of malice against him who professes to superintend the +conduct of others, especially if he seats himself uncalled in the chair +of judicature, and exercises authority by his own commission. + +You cannot, therefore, wonder that your observations on human folly, if +they produce laughter at one time, awaken criticism at another; and that +among the numbers whom you have taught to scoff at the retirement of +Drugget, there is one who offers his apology. + +The mistake of your old friend is by no means peculiar. The publick +pleasures of far the greater part of mankind are counterfeit. Very few +carry their philosophy to places of diversion, or are very careful to +analyze their enjoyments. The general condition of life is so full of +misery, that we are glad to catch delight without inquiring whence it +comes, or by what power it is bestowed. + +The mind is seldom quickened to very vigorous operations but by pain, or +the dread of pain. We do not disturb ourselves with the detection of +fallacies which do us no harm, nor willingly decline a pleasing effect +to investigate its cause. He that is happy, by whatever means, desires +nothing but the continuance of happiness, and is no more solicitous to +distribute his sensations into their proper species, than the common +gazer on the beauties of the spring to separate light into its original +rays. + +Pleasure is therefore seldom such as it appears to others, nor often +such as we represent it to ourselves. Of the ladies that sparkle at a +musical performance, a very small number has any quick sensibility of +harmonious sounds. But every one that goes has her pleasure. She has the +pleasure of wearing fine clothes, and of showing them, of outshining +those whom she suspects to envy her; she has the pleasure of appearing +among other ladies in a place whither the race of meaner mortals seldom +intrudes, and of reflecting that, in the conversations of the next +morning, her name will be mentioned among those that sat in the first +row; she has the pleasure of returning courtesies, or refusing to return +them, of receiving compliments with civility, or rejecting them with +disdain. She has the pleasure of meeting some of her acquaintance, of +guessing why the rest are absent, and of telling them that she saw the +opera, on pretence of inquiring why they would miss it. She has the +pleasure of being supposed to be pleased with a refined amusement, and +of hoping to be numbered among the votaresses of harmony. She has the +pleasure of escaping for two hours the superiority of a sister, or the +control of a husband; and from all these pleasures she concludes, that +heavenly musick is the balm of life. + +All assemblies of gaiety are brought together by motives of the same +kind. The theatre is not filled with those that know or regard the skill +of the actor, nor the ball-room by those who dance, or attend to the +dancers. To all places of general resort, where the standard of pleasure +is erected, we run with equal eagerness, or appearance of eagerness, for +very different reasons. One goes that he may say he has been there, +another because he never misses. This man goes to try what he can find, +and that to discover what others find. Whatever diversion is costly will +be frequented by those who desire to be thought rich; and whatever has, +by any accident, become fashionable, easily continues its reputation, +because every one is ashamed of not partaking it. + +To every place of entertainment we go with expectation and desire of +being pleased; we meet others who are brought by the same motives; no +one will be the first to own the disappointment; one face reflects the +smile of another, till each believes the rest delighted, and endeavours +to catch and transmit the circulating rapture. In time all are deceived +by the cheat to which all contribute. The fiction of happiness is +propagated by every tongue, and confirmed by every look, till at last +all profess the joy which they do not feel, consent to yield to the +general delusion; and when the voluntary dream is at an end, lament that +bliss is of so short a duration. + +If Drugget pretended to pleasures of which he had no perception, or +boasted of one amusement where he was indulging another, what did he +which is not done by all those who read his story? of whom some pretend +delight in conversation, only because they dare not be alone; some +praise the quiet of solitude, because they are envious of sense, and +impatient of folly; and some gratify their pride, by writing characters +which expose the vanity of life. + +I am, Sir, + +Your humble servant. + + + + +No. 19. SATURDAY, AUGUST 19, 1758. + +Some of those ancient sages that have exercised their abilities in the +inquiry after the supreme good, have been of opinion, that the highest +degree of earthly happiness is quiet; a calm repose both of mind and +body, undisturbed by the sight of folly or the noise of business, the +tumults of publick commotion, or the agitations of private interest: a +state in which the mind has no other employment, but to observe and +regulate her own motions, to trace thought from thought, combine one +image with another, raise systems of science, and form theories of +virtue. + +To the scheme of these solitary speculatists, it has been justly +objected, that if they are happy, they are happy only by being useless. +That mankind is one vast republick, where every individual receives many +benefits from the labours of others, which, by labouring in his turn for +others, he is obliged to repay; and that where the united efforts of all +are not able to exempt all from misery, none have a right to withdraw +from their task of vigilance, or to be indulged in idle wisdom or +solitary pleasures. + +It is common for controvertists, in the heat of disputation, to add one +position to another till they reach the extremities of knowledge, where +truth and falsehood lose their distinction. Their admirers follow them +to the brink of absurdity, and then start back from each side towards +the middle point. So it has happened in this great disquisition. Many +perceive alike the force of the contrary arguments, find quiet shameful, +and business dangerous, and therefore pass their lives between them, in +bustle without business, and negligence without quiet. + +Among the principal names of this moderate set is that great philosopher +Jack Whirler, whose business keeps him in perpetual motion, and whose +motion always eludes his business; who is always to do what he never +does, who cannot stand still because he is wanted in another place, and +who is wanted in many places because he stays in none. + +Jack has more business than he can conveniently transact in one house; +he has therefore one habitation near Bow-church, and another about a +mile distant. By this ingenious distribution of himself between two +houses, Jack has contrived to be found at neither. Jack's trade is +extensive, and he has many dealers; his conversation is sprightly, and +he has many companions; his disposition is kind, and he has many +friends. Jack neither forbears pleasure for business, nor omits business +for pleasure, but is equally invisible to his friends and his customers; +to him that comes with an invitation to a club, and to him that waits to +settle an account. + +When you call at his house, his clerk tells you that Mr. Whirler has +just stept out, but will be at home exactly at two; you wait at a +coffee-house till two, and then find that he has been at home, and is +gone out again, but left word that he should be at the Half-moon tavern +at seven, where he hopes to meet you. At seven you go to the tavern. At +eight in comes Mr. Whirler to tell you that he is glad to see you, and +only begs leave to run for a few minutes to a gentleman that lives near +the Exchange, from whom he will return before supper can be ready. Away +he runs to the Exchange, to tell those who are waiting for him that he +must beg them to defer the business till to-morrow, because his time is +come at the Half-moon. + +Jack's cheerfulness and civility rank him among those whose presence +never gives pain, and whom all receive with fondness and caresses. He +calls often on his friends, to tell them that he will come again +to-morrow; on the morrow he comes again, to tell them how an unexpected +summons hurries him away.--When he enters a house, his first declaration +is, that he cannot sit down; and so short are his visits, that he seldom +appears to have come for any other reason, but to say, He must go. + +The dogs of Egypt, when thirst brings them to the Nile, are said to run +as they drink for fear of the crocodiles. Jack Whirler always dines at +full speed. He enters, finds the family at table, sits familiarly down, +and fills his plate; but while the first morsel is in his mouth, hears +the clock strike, and rises; then goes to another house, sits down +again, recollects another engagement, has only time to taste the soup, +makes a short excuse to the company, and continues through another +street his desultory dinner. + +But, overwhelmed as he is with business, his chief desire is to have +still more. Every new proposal takes possession of his thoughts; he soon +balances probabilities, engages in the project, brings it almost to +completion, and then forsakes it for another, which he catches with the +same alacrity, urges with the same vehemence, and abandons with the same +coldness. + +Every man may be observed to have a certain strain of lamentation, some +peculiar theme of complaint, on which he dwells in his moments of +dejection. Jack's topick of sorrow is the want of time. Many an +excellent design languishes in empty theory for want of time. For the +omission of any civilities, want of time is his plea to others; for the +neglect of any affairs, want of time is his excuse to himself. That he +wants time, he sincerely believes; for he once pined away many months +with a lingering distemper, for want of time to attend to his health. + +Thus Jack Whirler lives in perpetual fatigue without proportionate +advantage, because he does not consider that no man can see all with his +own eyes, or do all with his own hands; that whoever is engaged in +multiplicity of business, must transact much by substitution, and leave +something to hazard; and that he who attempts to do all, will waste his +life in doing little. + + + + +No. 20. SATURDAY, AUGUST 26, 1758. + +There is no crime more infamous than the violation of truth. It is +apparent that men can be social beings no longer than they believe each +other. When speech is employed only as the vehicle of falsehood, every +man must disunite himself from others, inhabit his own cave, and seek +prey only for himself. + +Yet the law of truth, thus sacred and necessary, is broken without +punishment, without censure, in compliance with inveterate prejudice and +prevailing passions. Men are willing to credit what they wish, and +encourage rather those who gratify them with pleasure, than those that +instruct them with fidelity. + +For this reason every historian discovers his country; and it is +impossible to read the different accounts of any great event, without a +wish that truth had more power over partiality. + +Amidst the joy of my countrymen for the acquisition of Louisbourg, I +could not forbear to consider how differently this revolution of +American power is not only now mentioned by the contending nations, but +will be represented by the writers of another century. + +The English historian will imagine himself barely doing justice to +English virtue, when he relates the capture of Louisbourg in the +following manner: + +"The English had hitherto seen, with great indignation, their attempts +baffled and their force defied by an enemy, whom they considered +themselves as entitled to conquer by the right of prescription, and whom +many ages of hereditary superiority had taught them to despise. Their +fleets were more numerous, and their seamen braver, than those of +France; yet they only floated useless on the ocean, and the French +derided them from their ports. Misfortunes, as is usual, produced +discontent, the people murmured at the ministers, and the ministers +censured the commanders. + +"In the summer of this year, the English began to find their success +answerable to their cause. A fleet and an army were sent to America to +dislodge the enemies from the settlements which they had so perfidiously +made, and so insolently maintained, and to repress that power which was +growing more every day by the association of the Indians, with whom +these degenerate Europeans intermarried, and whom they secured to their +party by presents and promises. + +"In the beginning of June the ships of war and vessels containing the +land-forces appeared before Louisbourg, a place so secured by nature +that art was almost superfluous, and yet fortified by art as if nature +had left it open. The French boasted that it was impregnable, and spoke +with scorn of all attempts that could be made against it. The garrison +was numerous, the stores equal to the longest siege, and their engineers +and commanders high in reputation. The mouth of the harbour was so +narrow, that three ships within might easily defend it against all +attacks from the sea. The French had, with that caution which cowards +borrow from fear, and attribute to policy, eluded our fleets, and sent +into that port five great ships and six smaller, of which they sunk four +in the mouth of the passage, having raised batteries and posted troops +at all the places where they thought it possible to make a descent. The +English, however, had more to dread from the roughness of the sea, than +from the skill or bravery of the defendants. Some days passed before the +surges, which rise very high round that island, would suffer them to +land. At last their impatience could be restrained no longer; they got +possession of the shore with little loss by the sea, and with less by +the enemy. In a few days the artillery was landed, the batteries were +raised, and the French had no other hope than to escape from one post to +another. A shot from the batteries fired the powder in one of their +largest ships, the flame spread to the two next, and all three were +destroyed; the English admiral sent his boats against the two large +ships yet remaining, took them without resistance, and terrified the +garrison to an immediate capitulation." + +Let us now oppose to this English narrative the relation which will be +produced, about the same time, by the writer of the age of Louis XV. + +"About this time the English admitted to the conduct of affairs a man +who undertook to save from destruction that ferocious and turbulent +people, who, from the mean insolence of wealthy traders, and the lawless +confidence of successful robbers, were now sunk in despair and stupified +with horrour. He called in the ships which had been dispersed over the +ocean to guard their merchants, and sent a fleet and an army, in which +almost the whole strength of England was comprised, to secure their +possessions in America, which were endangered alike by the French arms +and the French virtue. We had taken the English fortresses by force, and +gained the Indian nations by humanity. The English, wherever they come, +are sure to have the natives for their enemies; for the only motive of +their settlements is avarice, and the only consequence of their success +is oppression. In this war they acted like other barbarians; and, with a +degree of outrageous cruelty, which the gentleness of our manners +scarcely suffers us to conceive, offered rewards by open proclamation to +those who should bring in the scalps of Indian women and children. A +trader always makes war with the cruelty of a pirate. + +"They had long looked with envy and with terrour upon the influence +which the French exerted over all the northern regions of America by the +possession of Louisbourg, a place naturally strong, and new-fortified +with some slight outworks. They hoped to surprise the garrison +unprovided; but that sluggishness, which always defeats their malice, +gave us time to send supplies, and to station ships for the defence of +the harbour. They came before Louisbourg in June, and were for some time +in doubt whether they should land. But the commanders, who had lately +seen an admiral shot for not having done what he had not power to do, +durst not leave the place unassaulted. An Englishman has no ardour for +honour, nor zeal for duty; he neither values glory nor loves his king, +but balances one danger with another, and will fight rather than be +hanged. They therefore landed, but with great loss their engineers had, +in the last war with the French, learned something of the military +science, and made their approaches with sufficient skill; but all their +efforts had been without effect, had not a ball unfortunately fallen +into the powder of one of our ships, which communicated the fire to the +rest, and, by opening the passage of the harbour, obliged the garrison +to capitulate. Thus was Louisbourg lost, and our troops marched out with +the admiration of their enemies, who durst hardly think themselves +masters of the place." + + + + +No. 21. SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 2, 1758. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Dear Mr. Idler, + +There is a species of misery, or of disease, for which our language is +commonly supposed to be without a name, but which I think is +emphatically enough denominated _listlessness_, and which is commonly +termed a want of something to do. + +Of the unhappiness of this state I do not expect all your readers to +have an adequate idea. Many are overburdened with business, and can +imagine no comfort but in rest; many have minds so placid, as willingly +to indulge a voluntary lethargy; or so narrow, as easily to be filled to +their utmost capacity. By these I shall not be understood, and therefore +cannot be pitied. Those only will sympathize with my complaint, whose +imagination is active, and resolution weak, whose desires are ardent, +and whose choice is delicate; who cannot satisfy themselves with +standing still, and yet cannot find a motive to direct their course. + +I was the second son of a gentleman, whose estate was barely sufficient +to support himself and his heir in the dignity of killing game. He +therefore made use of the interest which the alliances of his family +afforded him, to procure me a post in the army. I passed some years in +the most contemptible of all human stations, that of a soldier in time +of peace. I wandered with the regiment as the quarters were changed, +without opportunity for business, taste for knowledge, or money for +pleasure. Wherever I came, I was for some time a stranger without +curiosity, and afterwards an acquaintance without friendship. Having +nothing to hope in these places of fortuitous residence, I resigned my +conduct to chance; I had no intention to offend, I had no ambition to +delight. + +I suppose every man is shocked when he hears how frequently soldiers are +wishing for war. The wish is not always sincere; the greater part are +content with sleep and lace, and counterfeit an ardour which they do not +feel; but those who desire it most are neither prompted by malevolence +nor patriotism; they neither pant for laurels, nor delight in blood; but +long to be delivered from the tyranny of idleness, and restored to the +dignity of active beings. + +I never imagined myself to have more courage than other men, yet was +often involuntarily wishing for a war, but of a war, at that time, I had +no prospect; and being enabled, by the death of an uncle, to live +without my pay, I quitted the army, and resolved to regulate my own +motions. + +I was pleased, for a while, with the novelty of independence, and +imagined that I had now found what every man desires. My time was in my +own power, and my habitation was wherever my choice should fix it. I +amused myself for two years in passing from place to place, and +comparing one convenience with another; but being at last ashamed of +inquiry, and weary of uncertainty, I purchased a house, and established +my family. + +I now expected to begin to be happy, and was happy for a short time with +that expectation. But I soon perceived my spirits to subside, and my +imagination to grow dark. The gloom thickened every day round me. I +wondered by what malignant power my peace was blasted, till I discovered +at last that I had nothing to do. + +Time, with all its celerity, moves slowly to him whose whole employment +is to watch its flight. I am forced upon a thousand shifts to enable me +to endure the tediousness of the day. I rise when I can sleep no longer, +and take my morning-walk; I see what I have seen before, and return. I +sit down, and persuade myself that I sit down to think; find it +impossible to think without a subject, rise up to inquire after news, +and endeavour to kindle in myself an artificial impatience for +intelligence of events, which will never extend any consequence to me, +but that, a few minutes, they abstract me from myself. + +When I have heard any thing that may gratify curiosity, I am busied for +a while in running to relate it. I hasten from one place of concourse, +to another, delighted with my own importance, and proud to think that I +am doing something, though I know that another hour would spare my +labour. + +I had once a round of visits, which I paid very regularly; but I have +now tired most of my friends. When I have sat down I forget to rise, and +have more than once overheard one asking another, when I would be gone. +I perceive the company tired, I observe the mistress of the family +whispering to her servants, I find orders given to put off business till +to-morrow, I see the watches frequently inspected, and yet cannot +withdraw to the vacuity of solitude, or venture myself in my own +company. + +Thus burdensome to myself and others, I form many schemes of employment +which may make my life useful or agreeable, and exempt me from the +ignominy of living by sufferance. This new course I have long designed, +but have not yet begun. The present moment is never proper for the +change, but there is always a time in view when all obstacles will be +removed, and I shall surprise all that know me with a new distribution +of my time. Twenty years have past since I have resolved a complete +amendment, and twenty years have been lost in delays. Age is coming upon +me; and I should look back with rage and despair upon the waste of life, +but that I am now beginning in earnest to begin a reformation. + +I am, Sir, +Your humble servant, + +DICK LINGER. + + + + +No. 22. SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 16, 1758. + + _Oh nomen dulce libertatis! Oh jus eximium nostra civitatis!_ + CICERO. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Sir, + +As I was passing lately under one of the gates of this city, I was +struck with horrour by a rueful cry, which summoned me _to remember the +poor debtors_. + +The wisdom and justice of the English laws are, by Englishmen at least, +loudly celebrated: but scarcely the most zealous admirers of our +institutions can think that law wise, which, when men are capable of +work, obliges them to beg; or just, which exposes the liberty of one to +the passions of another. + +The prosperity of a people is proportionate to the number of hands and +minds usefully employed. To the community, sedition is a fever, +corruption is a gangrene, and idleness an atrophy. Whatever body, and +whatever society, wastes more than it acquires, must gradually decay; +and every being that continues to be fed, and ceases to labour, takes +away something from the publick stock. + +The confinement, therefore, of any man in the sloth and darkness of a +prison, is a loss to the nation, and no gain to the creditor. For of the +multitudes who are pining in those cells of misery, a very small part is +suspected of any fraudulent act by which they retain what belongs to +others. The rest are imprisoned by the wantonness of pride, the +malignity of revenge, or the acrimony of disappointed expectation. + +If those, who thus rigorously exercise the power which the law has put +into their hands, be asked, why they continue to imprison those whom +they know to be unable to pay them; one will answer, that his debtor +once lived better than himself; another, that his wife looked above her +neighbours, and his children went in silk clothes to the dancing-school; +and another, that he pretended to be a joker and a wit. Some will reply, +that if they were in debt, they should meet with the same treatment; +some, that they owe no more than they can pay, and need therefore give +no account of their actions. Some will confess their resolution, that +their debtors shall rot in jail; and some will discover, that they hope, +by cruelty, to wring the payment from their friends. + +The end of all civil regulations is to secure private happiness from +private malignity; to keep individuals from the power of one another; +but this end is apparently neglected, when a man, irritated with loss, +is allowed to be the judge of his own cause, and to assign the +punishment of his own pain; when the distinction between guilt and +happiness, between casualty and design, is intrusted to eyes blind with +interest, to understandings depraved by resentment. + +Since poverty is punished among us as a crime, it ought at least to be +treated with the same lenity as other crimes; the offender ought not to +languish at the will of him whom he has offended, but to be allowed some +appeal to the justice of his country. There can be no reason why any +debtor should be imprisoned, but that he may be compelled to payment; +and a term should therefore be fixed, in which the creditor should +exhibit his accusation of concealed property. If such property can be +discovered, let it be given to the creditor; if the charge is not +offered, or cannot be proved, let the prisoner be dismissed. + +Those who made the laws have apparently supposed, that every deficiency +of payment is the crime of the debtor. But the truth is, that the +creditor always shares the act, and often more than shares the guilt, of +improper trust. It seldom happens that any man imprisons another but for +debts which he suffered to be contracted in hope of advantage to +himself, and for bargains in which he proportioned his profit to his own +opinion of the hazard; and there is no reason why one should punish the +other for a contract in which both concurred. + +Many of the inhabitants of prisons may justly complain of harder +treatment. He that once owes more than he can pay, is often obliged to +bribe his creditor to patience, by increasing his debt. Worse and worse +commodities, at a higher and higher price, are forced upon him; he is +impoverished by compulsive traffick, and at last overwhelmed, in the +common receptacles of misery, by debts, which, without his own consent, +were accumulated on his head. To the relief of this distress, no other +objection can be made, but that by an easy dissolution of debts fraud +will be left without punishment, and imprudence without awe; and that +when insolvency should be no longer punishable, credit will cease. + +The motive to credit is the hope of advantage. Commerce can never be at +a stop, while one man wants what another can supply; and credit will +never be denied, while it is likely to be repaid with profit. He that +trusts one whom he designs to sue, is criminal by the act of trust: the +cessation of such insidious traffick is to be desired, and no reason can +be given why a change of the law should impair any other. + +We see nation trade with nation, where no payment can be compelled. +Mutual convenience produces mutual confidence; and the merchants +continue to satisfy the demands of each other, though they have nothing +to dread but the loss of trade. + +It is vain to continue an institution, which experience shows to be +ineffectual. We have now imprisoned one generation of debtors after +another, but we do not find that their numbers lessen. We have now +learned that rashness and imprudence will not be deterred from taking +credit; let us try whether fraud and avarice may be more easily +restrained from giving it[1]. + +I am, Sir, &c. + + +[1] This number was substituted, for some reason not ascertained, for +the keenly satirical original, which is reprinted at the end of this +volume. + +The observations of the present paper are such as would naturally +suggest themselves to an honest and benevolent mind like Johnson's; but +their political correctness may reasonably be questioned. An attempt has +been made, since his day, to provide a humane protection for the +unfortunate debtor. But has it not, at the same time, exposed the +confiding tradesman to deception and to consequent ruin, by destroying +all adequate punishment, and therefore removing every check upon vice +and prodigality? In a _Dictionnaire des Gens du Monde_, insolvency has +been, not unaptly, defined, a mode of getting rich by infallible rules! +See Idler 38, and Note. + + + + +No. 23. SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 23, 1758. + +Life has no pleasure higher or nobler than that of friendship. It is +painful to consider, that this sublime enjoyment may be impaired or +destroyed by innumerable causes, and that there is no human possession +of which the duration is less certain. + +Many have talked, in very exalted language, of the perpetuity of +friendship, of invincible constancy, and unalienable kindness; and some +examples have been seen of men who have continued faithful to their +earliest choice, and whose affection has predominated over changes of +fortune, and contrariety of opinion. + +But these instances are memorable, because they are rare. The friendship +which is to be practised or expected by common mortals, must take its +rise from mutual pleasure, and must end when the power ceases of +delighting each other. + +Many accidents therefore may happen, by which the ardour of kindness +will be abated, without criminal baseness or contemptible inconstancy on +either part. To give pleasure is not always in our power; and little +does he know himself, who believes that he can be always able to receive +it. + +Those who would gladly pass their days together may be separated by the +different course of their affairs; and friendship, like love, is +destroyed by long absence, though it may be increased by short +intermissions. What we have missed long enough to want it, we value more +when it is regained; but that which has been lost till it is forgotten, +will be found at last with little gladness, and with still less if a +substitute has supplied the place. A man deprived of the companion to +whom he used to open his bosom, and with whom he shared the hours of +leisure and merriment, feels the day at first hanging heavy on him; his +difficulties oppress, and his doubts distract him; he sees time come and +go without his wonted gratification, and all is sadness within, and +solitude about him. But this uneasiness never lasts long; necessity +produces expedients, new amusements are discovered, and new conversation +is admitted. + +No expectation is more frequently disappointed, than that which +naturally arises in the mind from the prospect of meeting an old friend +after long separation. We expect the attraction to be revived, and the +coalition to be renewed; no man considers how much alteration time has +made in himself, and very few inquire what effect it has had upon +others. The first hour convinces them that the pleasure, which they had +formerly enjoyed, is for ever at an end; different scenes have made +different impressions; the opinions of both are changed; and that +similitude of manners and sentiment is lost, which confirmed them both +in the approbation of themselves. + +Friendship is often destroyed by opposition of interest, not only by the +ponderous and visible interest which the desire of wealth and greatness +forms and maintains, but by a thousand secret and slight competitions, +scarcely known to the mind upon which they operate. There is scarcely +any man without some favourite trifle which he values above greater +attainments, some desire of petty praise which he cannot patiently +suffer to be frustrated. This minute ambition is sometimes crossed +before it is known, and sometimes defeated by wanton petulance; but such +attacks are seldom made without the loss of friendship; for whoever has +once found the vulnerable part will always be feared, and the resentment +will burn on in secret, of which shame hinders the discovery. + +This, however, is a slow malignity, which a wise man will obviate as +inconsistent with quiet, and a good man will repress as contrary to +virtue; but human happiness is sometimes violated by some more sudden +strokes. + +A dispute begun in jest upon a subject which, a moment before, was on +both parts regarded with careless indifference, is continued by the +desire of conquest, till vanity kindles into rage, and opposition +rankles into enmity. Against this hasty mischief, I know not what +security can be obtained: men will be sometimes surprised into quarrels; +and though they might both hasten to reconciliation, as soon as their +tumult had subsided, yet two minds will seldom be found together, which +can at once subdue their discontent, or immediately enjoy the sweets of +peace, without remembering the wounds of the conflict. + +Friendship has other enemies. Suspicion is always hardening the +cautious, and disgust repelling the delicate. Very slender differences +will sometimes part those whom long reciprocation of civility or +beneficence has united. Lonelove and Ranger retired into the country to +enjoy the company of each other, and returned in six weeks cold and +petulant; Ranger's pleasure was to walk in the fields, and Lonelove's to +sit in a bower; each had complied with the other in his turn, and each +was angry that compliance had been exacted. + +The most fatal disease of friendship is gradual decay, or dislike hourly +increased by causes too slender for complaint, and too numerous for +removal.--Those who are angry may be reconciled; those who have been +injured may receive a recompense: but when the desire of pleasing and +willingness to be pleased is silently diminished, the renovation of +friendship is hopeless; as, when the vital powers sink into languor, +there is no longer any use of the physician. + + + + +No. 24. SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 30, 1758. + +When man sees one of the inferior creatures perched upon a tree, or +basking in the sunshine, without any apparent endeavour or pursuit, he +often asks himself, or his companion, _On what that animal can be +supposed to be thinking_? + +Of this question, since neither bird nor beast can answer it, we must be +content to live without the resolution. We know not how much the brutes +recollect of the past, or anticipate of the future; what power they have +of comparing and preferring; or whether their faculties may not rest in +motionless indifference, till they are moved by the presence of their +proper object, or stimulated to act by corporal sensations. + +I am the less inclined to these superfluous inquiries, because I have +always been able to find sufficient matter for curiosity in my own +species. It is useless to go far in quest of that which may be found at +home; a very narrow circle of observation will supply a sufficient +number of men and women, who might be asked, with equal propriety, _On +what they can be thinking_? + +It is reasonable to believe, that thought, like every thing else, has +its causes and effects; that it must proceed from something known, done, +or suffered; and must produce some action or event. Yet how great is the +number of those in whose minds no source of thought has ever been +opened, in whose life no consequence of thought is ever discovered; who +have learned nothing upon which they can reflect; who have neither seen +nor felt any thing which could leave its traces on the memory; who +neither foresee nor desire any change in their condition, and have +therefore neither fear, hope, nor design, and yet are supposed to be +thinking beings. + +To every act a subject is required. He that thinks must think upon +something. But tell me, ye that pierce deepest into nature, ye that take +the widest surveys of life, inform me, kind shades of Malbranche and of +Locke, what that something can be, which excites and continues thought +in maiden aunts with small fortunes; in younger brothers that live upon +annuities; in traders retired from business; in soldiers absent from +their regiments; or in widows that have no children? + +Life is commonly considered as either active or contemplative; but +surely this division, how long soever it has been received, is +inadequate and fallacious. There are mortals whose life is certainly not +active, for they do neither good nor evil; and whose life cannot be +properly called contemplative, for they never attend either to the +conduct of men, or the works of nature, but rise in the morning, look +round them till night in careless stupidity, go to bed and sleep, and +rise again in the morning. + +It has been lately a celebrated question in the schools of philosophy, +_Whether the soul always thinks_! Some have defined the soul to be the +_power of thinking_; concluded that its essence consists in act; that, +if it should cease to act, it would cease to be; and that cessation of +thought is but another name for extinction of mind. This argument is +subtle, but not conclusive; because it supposes what cannot be proved, +that the nature of mind is properly defined. Others affect to disdain +subtilty, when subtilty will not serve their purpose, and appeal to +daily experience. We spend many hours, they say, in sleep, without the +least remembrance of any thoughts which then passed in our minds; and +since we can only by our own consciousness be sure that we think, why +should we imagine that we have had thought of which no consciousness +remains? + +This argument, which appeals to experience, may from experience be +confuted. We every day do something which we forget when it is done, and +know to have been done only by consequence. The waking hours are not +denied to have been passed in thought; yet he that shall endeavour to +recollect on one day the ideas of the former, will only turn the eye of +reflection upon vacancy; he will find that the greater part is +irrevocably vanished, and wonder how the moments could come and go, and +leave so little behind them. + +To discover only that the arguments on both sides are defective, and to +throw back the tenet into its former uncertainty, is the sport of wanton +or malevolent skepticism, delighting to see the sons of philosophy at +work upon a task which never can be decided. I shall suggest an argument +hitherto overlooked, which may perhaps determine the controversy. + +If it be impossible to think without materials, there must necessarily +be minds that do not always think; and whence shall we furnish materials +for the meditation of the glutton between his meals, of the sportsman in +a rainy month, of the annuitant between the days of quarterly payment, +of the politician when the mails are detained by contrary winds? + +But how frequent soever may be the examples of existence without +thought, it is certainly a state not much to be desired. He that lives +in torpid insensibility, wants nothing of a carcass but putrefaction. It +is the part of every inhabitant of the earth to partake the pains and +pleasures of his fellow-beings; and, as in a road through a country +desert and uniform, the traveller languishes for want of amusement, so +the passage of life will be tedious and irksome to him who does not +beguile it by diversified ideas. + + + + +No. 25. SATURDAY, OCTOBER 7, 1758. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Sir, + +I am a very constant frequenter of the playhouse, a place to which I +suppose the _Idler_ not much a stranger, since he can have no where else +so much entertainment with so little concurrence of his own endeavour. +At all other assemblies, he that comes to receive delight, will be +expected to give it; but in the theatre nothing is necessary to the +amusement of two hours, but to sit down and be willing to be pleased. + +The last week has offered two new actors to the town. The appearance and +retirement of actors are the great events of the theatrical world; and +their first performances fill the pit with conjecture and +prognostication, as the first actions of a new monarch agitate nations +with hope or fear. + +What opinion I have formed of the future excellence of these candidates +for dramatick glory, it is not necessary to declare. Their entrance gave +me a higher and nobler pleasure than any borrowed character can afford. +I saw the ranks of the theatre emulating each other in candour and +humanity, and contending who should most effectually assist the +struggles of endeavour, dissipate the blush of diffidence, and still the +flutter of timidity. + +This behaviour is such as becomes a people, too tender to repress those +who wish to please, too generous to insult those who can make no +resistance. A publick performer is so much in the power of spectators, +that all unnecessary severity is restrained by that general law of +humanity, which forbids us to be cruel where there is nothing to be +feared. + +In every new performer something must be pardoned. No man can, by any +force of resolution, secure to himself the full possession of his own +powers under the eye of a large assembly. Variation of gesture, and +flexion of voice, are to be obtained only by experience. + +There is nothing for which such numbers think themselves qualified as +for theatrical exhibition. Every human being has an action graceful to +his own eye, a voice musical to his own ear, and a sensibility which +nature forbids him to know that any other bosom can excel. An art in +which such numbers fancy themselves excellent, and which the publick +liberally rewards, will excite many competitors, and in many attempts +there must be many miscarriages. + +The care of the critick should be to distinguish errour from inability, +faults of inexperience from defects of nature. Action irregular and +turbulent may be reclaimed; vociferation vehement and confused may be +restrained and modulated; the stalk of the tyrant may become the gait of +the man; the yell of inarticulate distress may be reduced to human +lamentation. All these faults should be for a time overlooked, and +afterwards censured with gentleness and candour. But if in an actor +there appears an utter vacancy of meaning, a frigid equality, a stupid +languor, a torpid apathy, the greatest kindness that can be shown him is +a speedy sentence of expulsion. + +I am, Sir, &c. + +The plea which my correspondent has offered for young actors, I am very +far from wishing to invalidate. I always considered those combinations +which are sometimes formed in the playhouse, as acts of fraud or of +cruelty; he that applauds him who does not deserve praise, is +endeavouring to deceive the publick; he that hisses in malice or sport, +is an oppressor and a robber. + +But surely this laudable forbearance might be justly extended to young +poets. The art of the writer, like that of the player, is attained by +slow degrees. The power of distinguishing and discriminating comick +characters, or of filling tragedy with poetical images, must be the gift +of nature, which no instruction nor labour can supply; but the art of +dramatick disposition, the contexture of the scenes, the opposition of +characters, the involution of the plot, the expedients of suspension, +and the stratagems of surprise, are to be learned by practice; and it is +cruel to discourage a poet for ever, because he has not from genius what +only experience can bestow. + +Life is a stage. Let me likewise solicit candour for the young actor on +the stage of life. They that enter into the world are too often treated +with unreasonable rigour by those that were once as ignorant and heady +as themselves; and distinction is not always made between the faults +which require speedy and violent eradication, and those that will +gradually drop away in the progression of life. Vicious solicitations of +appetite, if not checked, will grow more importunate; and mean arts of +profit or ambition will gather strength in the mind, if they are not +early suppressed. But mistaken notions of superiority, desires of +useless show, pride of little accomplishments, and all the train of +vanity, will be brushed away by the wing of time. + +Reproof should not exhaust its power upon petty failings; let it watch +diligently against the incursion of vice, and leave foppery and futility +to die of themselves. + + + + +No. 26 SATURDAY, OCTOBER 14, 1758. + +Mr. Idler, + +I never thought that I should write any thing to be printed; but having +lately seen your first essay, which was sent down into the kitchen, with +a great bundle of gazettes and useless papers, I find that you are +willing to admit any correspondent, and therefore hope you will not +reject me. If you publish my letter, it may encourage others, in the +same condition with myself, to tell their stories, which may be, +perhaps, as useful as those of great ladies. + +I am a poor girl. I was bred in the country at a charity-school, +maintained by the contributions of wealthy neighbours. The ladies, or +patronesses, visited us from time to time, examined how we were taught, +and saw that our clothes were clean. We lived happily enough, and were +instructed to be thankful to those at whose cost we were educated. I was +always the favourite of my mistress; she used to call me to read and +show my copybook to all strangers, who never dismissed me without +commendation, and very seldom without a shilling. + +At last the chief of our subscribers, having passed a winter in London, +came down full of an opinion new and strange to the whole country. She +held it little less than criminal to teach poor girls to read and write. +They who are born to poverty, she said, are born to ignorance, and will +work the harder the less they know. She told her friends, that London +was in confusion by the insolence of servants; that scarcely a wench was +to be got for _all work_, since education had made such numbers of fine +ladies; that nobody would now accept a lower title than that of a +waiting-maid, or something that might qualify her to wear laced shoes +and long ruffles, and to sit at work in the parlour window. But she was +resolved, for her part, to spoil no more girls; those, who were to live +by their hands, should neither read nor write out of her pocket; the +world was bad enough already, and she would have no part in making it +worse. + +She was for a short time warmly opposed; but she persevered in her +notions, and withdrew her subscription. Few listen without a desire of +conviction to those who advise them to spare their money. Her example +and her arguments gained ground daily; and in less than a year the whole +parish was convinced, that the nation would be ruined, if the children +of the poor were taught to read and write. + +Our school was now dissolved: my mistress kissed me when we parted, and +told me, that, being old and helpless, she could not assist me; advised +me to seek a service, and charged me not to forget what I had learned. + +My reputation for scholarship, which had hitherto recommended me to +favour, was, by the adherents to the new opinion, considered as a crime; +and, when I offered myself to any mistress, I had no other answer than, +"Sure, child, you would not work! hard work is not fit for a pen-woman; +a scrubbing-brush would spoil your hand, child!" + +I could not live at home; and while I was considering to what I should +betake me, one of the girls, who had gone from our school to London, +came down in a silk gown, and told her acquaintance how well she lived, +what fine things she saw, and what great wages she received. I resolved +to try my fortune, and took my passage in the next week's waggon to +London. I had no snares laid for me at my arrival, but came safe to a +sister of my mistress, who undertook to get me a place. She knew only +the families of mean tradesmen; and I, having no high opinion of my own +qualifications, was willing to accept the first offer. + +My first mistress was wife of a working watch-maker, who earned more +than was sufficient to keep his family in decency and plenty; but it was +their constant practice to hire a chaise on Sunday, and spend half the +wages of the week on Richmond Hill; of Monday he commonly lay half in +bed, and spent the other half in merriment; Tuesday and Wednesday +consumed the rest of his money; and three days every week were passed in +extremity of want by us who were left at home, while my master lived on +trust at an alehouse. You may be sure, that of the sufferers, the maid +suffered most; and I left them, after three months, rather than be +starved. + +I was then maid to a hatter's wife. There was no want to be dreaded, for +they lived in perpetual luxury. My mistress was a diligent woman, and +rose early in the morning to set the journeymen to work; my master was a +man much beloved by his neighbours, and sat at one club or other every +night. I was obliged to wait on my master at night, and on my mistress +in the morning. He seldom came home before two, and she rose at five. I +could no more live without sleep than without food, and therefore +entreated them to look out for another servant. + +My next removal was to a linen-draper's, who had six children. My +mistress, when I first entered the house, informed me, that I must never +contradict the children, nor suffer them to cry. I had no desire to +offend, and readily promised to do my best. But when I gave them their +breakfast, I could not help all first; when I was playing with one in my +lap, I was forced to keep the rest in expectation. That which was not +gratified, always resented the injury with a loud outcry, which put my +mistress in a fury at me, and procured sugar-plums to the child. I could +not keep six children quiet, who were bribed to be clamorous; and was +therefore dismissed, as a girl honest, but not good-natured. + +I then lived with a couple that kept a petty shop of remnants and cheap +linen. I was qualified to make a bill, or keep a book; and being +therefore often called, at a busy time, to serve the customers, expected +that I should now be happy, in proportion as I was useful. But my +mistress appropriated every day part of the profit to some private use, +and, as she grew bolder in her thefts, at last deducted such sums, that +my master began to wonder how he sold so much, and gained so little. She +pretended to assist his inquiries, and began, very gravely, to hope that +"Betty was honest, and yet those sharp girls were apt to be +light-fingered." You will believe that I did not stay there much longer. + +The rest of my story I will tell you in another letter; and only beg to +be informed, in some paper, for which of my places, except perhaps the +last, I was disqualified by my skill in reading and writing. + +I am, Sir, + +Your very humble servant, + +BETTY BROOM. + + + + + No. 27. SATURDAY, OCTOBER 21, 1758. + +It has been the endeavour of all those whom the world has reverenced for +superior wisdom, to persuade man to be acquainted with himself, to learn +his own powers and his own weakness, to observe by what evils he is most +dangerously beset, and by what temptations most easily overcome. + +This counsel has been often given with serious dignity, and often +received with appearance of conviction; but, as very few can search deep +into their own minds without meeting what they wish to hide from +themselves, scarcely any man persists in cultivating such disagreeable +acquaintance, but draws the veil again between his eyes and his heart, +leaves his passions and appetites as he found them, and advises others +to look into themselves. + +This is the common result of inquiry even among those that endeavour to +grow wiser or better: but this endeavour is far enough from frequency; +the greater part of the multitudes that swarm upon the earth have never +been disturbed by such uneasy curiosity, but deliver themselves up to +business or to pleasure, plunge into the current of life, whether placid +or turbulent, and pass on from one point or prospect to another, +attentive rather to any thing than the state of their minds; satisfied, +at an easy rate, with an opinion, that they are no worse than others, +that every man must mind his own interest, or that their pleasures hurt +only themselves, and are therefore no proper subjects of censure. + +Some, however, there are, whom the intrusion of scruples, the +recollection of better notions, or the latent reprehension of good +examples, will not suffer to live entirely contented with their own +conduct; these are forced to pacify the mutiny of reason with fair +promises, and quiet their thoughts with designs of calling all their +actions to review, and planning a new scheme for the time to come. + +There is nothing which we estimate so fallaciously as the force of our +own resolutions, nor any fallacy which we so unwillingly and tardily +detect. He that has resolved a thousand times, and a thousand times +deserted his own purpose, yet suffers no abatement of his confidence, +but still believes himself his own master; and able, by innate vigour of +soul, to press forward to his end, through all the obstructions that +inconveniencies or delights can put in his way. + +That this mistake should prevail for a time, is very natural. When +conviction is present, and temptation out of sight, we do not easily +conceive how any reasonable being can deviate from his true interest. +What ought to be done, while it yet hangs only on speculation, is so +plain and certain, that there is no place for doubt; the whole soul +yields itself to the predominance of truth, and readily determines to do +what, when the time of action comes, will be at last omitted. + +I believe most men may review all the lives that have passed within +their observation, without remembering one efficacious resolution, or +being able to tell a single instance of a course of practice suddenly +changed in consequence of a change of opinion, or an establishment of +determination. Many, indeed, alter their conduct, and are not at fifty +what they were at thirty; but they commonly varied imperceptibly from +themselves, followed the train of external causes, and rather suffered +reformation than made it. + +It is not uncommon to charge the difference between promise and +performance, between profession and reality, upon deep design and +studied deceit; but the truth is, that there is very little hypocrisy in +the world; we do not so often endeavour or wish to impose on others, as +on ourselves; we resolve to do right, we hope to keep our resolutions, +we declare them to confirm our own hope, and fix our own inconstancy by +calling witnesses of our actions; but at last habit prevails, and those +whom we invited to our triumph laugh at our defeat. + +Custom is commonly too strong for the most resolute resolver, though +furnished for the assault with all the weapons of philosophy. "He that +endeavours to free himself from an ill habit," says Bacon, "must not +change too much at a time, lest he should be discouraged by difficulty; +nor too little, for then he will make but slow advances." This is a +precept which may be applauded in a book, but will fail in the trial, in +which every change will be found too great or too little. Those who have +been able to conquer habit, are like those that are fabled to have +returned from the realms of Pluto: + + --"Pauci, quos aequus amavit + Jupiter, atque ardens evexit ad aethera virtus." + +They are sufficient to give hope, but not security; to animate the +contest, but not to promise victory. + +Those who are in the power of evil habits must conquer them as they can; +and conquered they must be, or neither wisdom nor happiness can be +attained; but those who are not yet subject to their influence may, by +timely caution, preserve their freedom; they may effectually resolve to +escape the tyrant, whom they will very vainly resolve to conquer. + + + + +No. 28. SATURDAY, OCTOBER 28, 1758. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Sir, + +It is very easy for a man who sits idle at home, and has nobody to +please but himself, to ridicule or to censure the common practices of +mankind; and those who have no present temptation to break the rules of +propriety, may applaud his judgment, and join in his merriment; but let +the author or his readers mingle with common life, they will find +themselves irresistibly borne away by the stream of custom, and must +submit, after they have laughed at others, to give others the same +opportunity of laughing at them. + +There is no paper published by the Idler which I have read with more +approbation than that which censures the practice of recording vulgar +marriages in the newspapers. I carried it about in my pocket, and read +it to all those whom I suspected of having published their nuptials, or +of being inclined to publish them, and sent transcripts of it to all the +couples that transgressed your precepts for the next fortnight. I hoped +that they were all vexed, and pleased myself with imagining their +misery. + +But short is the triumph of malignity. I was married last week to Miss +Mohair, the daughter of a salesman; and, at my first appearance after +the wedding night, was asked, by my wife's mother, whether I had sent +our marriage to the Advertiser? I endeavoured to show how unfit it was +to demand the attention of the publick to our domestick affairs; but she +told me, with great vehemence, "That she would not have it thought to be +a stolen match; that the blood of the Mohairs should never be disgraced; +that her husband had served all the parish offices but one; that she had +lived five-and-thirty years at the same house, had paid every body +twenty shillings in the pound, and would have me know, though she was +not as fine and as flaunting as Mrs. Gingham, the deputy's wife, she was +not ashamed to tell her name, and would show her face with the best of +them; and since I had married her daughter--" At this instant entered my +father-in-law, a grave man, from whom I expected succour; but upon +hearing the case, he told me, "That it would be very imprudent to miss +such an opportunity of advertising my shop; and that when notice was +given of my marriage, many of my wife's friends would think themselves +obliged to be my customers." I was subdued by clamour on one side, and +gravity on the other, and shall be obliged to tell the town, that "three +days ago Timothy Mushroom, an eminent oilman in Seacoal-lane, was +married to Miss Polly Mohair of Lothbury, a beautiful young lady, with a +large fortune." + +I am, Sir, &c. + +Sir, + +I am the unfortunate wife of the grocer whose letter you published about +ten weeks ago, in which he complains, like a sorry fellow, that I loiter +in the shop with my needle-work in my hand, and that I oblige him to +take me out on Sundays, and keep a girl to look after the child. Sweet +Mr. Idler, if you did but know all, you would give no encouragement to +such an unreasonable grumbler. I brought him three hundred pounds, which +set him up in a shop, and bought in a stock, on which, with good +management, we might live comfortably; but now I have given him a shop, +I am forced to watch him and the shop too. I will tell you, Mr. Idler, +how it is. There is an alehouse over the way, with a ninepin alley, to +which he is sure to run when I turn my back, and there he loses his +money, for he plays at ninepins as he does every thing else. While he is +at this favourite sport, he sets a dirty boy to watch his door, and call +him to his customers; but he is so long in coming, and so rude when he +comes, that our custom falls off every day. + +Those who cannot govern themselves, must be governed. I have resolved to +keep him for the future behind his counter, and let him bounce at his +customers if he dares. I cannot be above stairs and below at the same +time, and have therefore taken a girl to look after the child, and dress +the dinner; and, after all, pray who is to blame? + +On a Sunday, it is true, I make him walk abroad, and sometimes carry the +child; I wonder who should carry it! But I never take him out till after +church-time, nor would do it then, but that, if he is left alone, he +will be upon the bed. On a Sunday, if he stays at home, he has six +meals, and, when he can eat no longer, has twenty stratagems to escape +from me to the alehouse; but I commonly keep the door locked, till +Monday produces something for him to do. + +This is the true state of the case, and these are the provocations for +which he has written his letter to you. I hope you will write a paper to +show, that, if a wife must spend her whole time in watching her husband, +she cannot conveniently tend her child, or sit at her needle. + +I am, Sir, &c. + +Sir, + +There is in this town a species of oppression which the law has not +hitherto prevented or redressed. + +I am a chairman. You know, Sir, we come when we are called, and are +expected to carry all who require our assistance. It is common for men +of the most unwieldy corpulence to crowd themselves into a chair, and +demand to be carried for a shilling as far as an airy young lady whom we +scarcely feel upon our poles. Surely we ought to be paid, like all other +mortals, in proportion to our labour. Engines should be fixed in proper +places to weigh chairs as they weigh waggons; and those, whom ease and +plenty have made unable to carry themselves, should give part of their +superfluities to those who carry them. + +I am, Sir, &c. + + + + +No. 29. SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 4, 1758. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Sir, + +I have often observed, that friends are lost by discontinuance of +intercourse without any offence on either part, and have long known, +that it is more dangerous to be forgotten than to be blamed; I therefore +make haste to send you the rest of my story, lest, by the delay of +another fortnight, the name of Betty Broom might be no longer remembered +by you or your readers. + +Having left the last place in haste, to avoid the charge or the +suspicion of theft, I had not secured another service, and was forced to +take a lodging in a back-street. I had now got good clothes. The woman +who lived in the garret opposite to mine was very officious, and offered +to take care of my room and clean it, while I went round to my +acquaintance to inquire for a mistress. I knew not why she was so kind, +nor how I could recompense her; but in a few days I missed some of my +linen, went to another lodging, and resolved not to have another friend +in the next garret. + +In six weeks I became under-maid at the house of a mercer in Cornhill, +whose son was his apprentice. The young gentleman used to sit late at +the tavern, without the knowledge of his father; and I was ordered by my +mistress to let him in silently to his bed under the counter, and to be +very careful to take away his candle. The hours which I was obliged to +watch, whilst the rest of the family was in bed, I considered as +supernumerary, and, having no business assigned for them, thought myself +at liberty to spend them my own way: I kept myself awake with a book, +and for some time liked my state the better for this opportunity of +reading. At last, the upper-maid found my book, and showed it to my +mistress, who told me, that wenches like me might spend their time +better; that she never knew any of the readers that had good designs in +their heads; that she could always find something else to do with her +time, than to puzzle over books; and did not like that such a fine lady +should sit up for her young master. + +This was the first time that I found it thought criminal or dangerous to +know how to read. I was dismissed decently, lest I should tell tales, +and had a small gratuity above my wages. + +I then lived with a gentlewoman of a small fortune. This was the only +happy part of my life. My mistress, for whom publick diversions were too +expensive, spent her time with books, and was pleased to find a maid who +could partake her amusements. I rose early in the morning, that I might +have time in the afternoon to read or listen, and was suffered to tell +my opinion, or express my delight. Thus fifteen months stole away, in +which I did not repine that I was born to servitude. But a burning fever +seized my mistress, of whom I shall say no more, than that her servant +wept upon her grave. + +I had lived in a kind of luxury, which made me very unfit for another +place; and was rather too delicate for the conversation of a kitchen; so +that when I was hired in the family of an East-India director, my +behaviour was so different, as they said, from that of a common servant, +that they concluded me a gentlewoman in disguise, and turned me out in +three weeks, on suspicion of some design which they could not +comprehend. + +I then fled for refuge to the other end of the town, where I hoped to +find no obstruction from my new accomplishments, and was hired under the +housekeeper in a splendid family. Here I was too wise for the maids, and +too nice for the footmen; yet I might have lived on without much +uneasiness, had not my mistress, the housekeeper, who used to employ me +in buying necessaries for the family, found a bill which I had made of +one day's expense. I suppose it did not quite agree with her own book, +for she fiercely declared her resolution, that there should be no pen +and ink in that kitchen but her own. + +She had the justice, or the prudence, not to injure my reputation; and I +was easily admitted into another house in the neighbourhood, where my +business was to sweep the rooms and make the beds. Here I was, for some +time, the favourite of Mrs. Simper, my lady's woman, who could not bear +the vulgar girls, and was happy in the attendance of a young woman of +some education. Mrs. Simper loved a novel, though she could not read +hard words, and therefore, when her lady was abroad, we always laid hold +on her books. At last, my abilities became so much celebrated, that the +house-steward used to employ me in keeping his accounts. Mrs. Simper +then found out, that my sauciness was grown to such a height that nobody +could endure it, and told my lady, that there never had been a room well +swept, since Betty Broom came into the house. + +I was then hired by a consumptive lady, who wanted a maid that could +read and write. I attended her four years, and though she was never +pleased, yet when I declared my resolution to leave her, she burst into +tears, and told me that I must bear the peevishness of a sick bed, and I +should find myself remembered in her will. I complied, and a codicil was +added in my favour; but in less than a week, when I set her gruel before +her, I laid the spoon on the left side, and she threw her will into the +fire. In two days she made another, which she burnt in the same manner, +because she could not eat her chicken. A third was made, and destroyed +because she heard a mouse within the wainscot, and was sure that I +should suffer her to be carried away alive. After this I was for some +time out of favour, but as her illness grew upon her, resentment and +sullenness gave way to kinder sentiments. She died, and left me five +hundred pounds; with this fortune I am going to settle in my native +parish, where I resolve to spend some hours every day in teaching poor +girls to read and write[1]. + +I am, Sir, +Your humble servant, + +BETTY BROOM. +[1] Mrs. Gardiner, a pious, sensible, and charitable woman, for whom + Johnson entertained a high respect, is said to have afforded a hint + for the story of Betty Broom, from her zealous support of a Ladies' + Charity-school, confined to females. Boswell, vol. iv. + + + + +No. 30. SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 11, 1758. + +The desires of man increase with his acquisitions; every step which he +advances brings something within his view, which he did not see before, +and which, as soon as he sees it, he begins to want. Where necessity +ends, curiosity begins; and no sooner are we supplied with every thing +that nature can demand, than we sit down to contrive artificial +appetites. + +By this restlessness of mind, every populous and wealthy city is filled +with innumerable employments, for which the greater part of mankind is +without a name; with artificers, whose labour is exerted in producing +such petty conveniencies, that many shops are furnished with +instruments, of which the use can hardly be found without inquiry, but +which he that once knows them quickly learns to number among necessary +things. + +Such is the diligence with which, in countries completely civilized, one +part of mankind labours for another, that wants are supplied faster than +they can be formed, and the idle and luxurious find life stagnate for +want of some desire to keep it in motion. This species of distress +furnishes a new set of occupations; and multitudes are busied, from day +to day, in finding the rich and the fortunate something to do. + +It is very common to reproach those artists as useless, who produce only +such superfluities as neither accommodate the body, nor improve the +mind; and of which no other effect can be imagined, than that they are +the occasions of spending money, and consuming time. + +But this censure will be mitigated, when it is seriously considered, +that money and time are the heaviest burdens of life, and that the +unhappiest of all mortals are those who have more of either than they +know how to use. To set himself free from these incumbrances, one +hurries to Newmarket; another travels over Europe; one pulls down his +house and calls architects about him; another buys a seat in the +country, and follows his hounds over hedges and through rivers; one +makes collections of shells; and another searches the world for tulips +and carnations. + +He is surely a publick benefactor who finds employment for those to whom +it is thus difficult to find it for themselves. It is true, that this is +seldom done merely from generosity or compassion; almost every man seeks +his own advantage in helping others, and therefore it is too common for +mercenary officiousness to consider rather what is grateful, than what +is right. + +We all know that it is more profitable to be loved than esteemed; and +ministers of pleasure will always be found, who study to make themselves +necessary, and to supplant those who are practising the same arts. + +One of the amusements of idleness is reading without the fatigue of +close attention, and the world therefore swarms with writers whose wish +is not to be studied, but to be read. + +No species of literary men has lately been so much multiplied as the +writers of news. Not many years ago the nation was content with one +gazette; but now we have not only in the metropolis papers for every +morning and every evening, but almost every large town has its weekly +historian, who regularly circulates his periodical intelligence, and +fills the villages of his district with conjectures on the events of +war, and with debates on the true interest of Europe. + +To write news in its perfection requires such a combination of +qualities, that a man completely fitted for the task is not always to be +found. In Sir Henry Wotton's jocular definition, _An ambassador_ is said +to be _a man of virtue sent abroad to tell lies for the advantage of his +country_; a news-writer is _a man without virtue, who writes lies at +home for his own profit_. To these compositions is required neither +genius nor knowledge, neither industry nor sprightliness; but contempt +of shame and indifference to truth are absolutely necessary. He who by a +long familiarity with infamy has obtained these qualities, may +confidently tell to-day what he intends to contradict to-morrow; he may +affirm fearlessly what he knows that he shall be obliged to recant, and +may write letters from Amsterdam or Dresden to himself. + +In a time of war the nation is always of one mind, eager to hear +something good of themselves and ill of the enemy. At this time the task +of news-writers is easy: they have nothing to do but to tell that a +battle is expected, and afterwards that a battle has been fought, in +which we and our friends, whether conquering or conquered, did all, and +our enemies did nothing. + +Scarcely any thing awakens attention like a tale of cruelty. The writer +of news never fails in the intermission of action to tell how the +enemies murdered children and ravished virgins; and, if the scene of +action be somewhat distant, scalps half the inhabitants of a province. + +Among the calamities of war may be justly numbered the diminution of the +love of truth, by the falsehoods which interest dictates, and credulity +encourages. A peace will equally leave the warriour and relater of wars +destitute of employment; and I know not whether more is to be dreaded +from streets filled with soldiers accustomed to plunder, or from garrets +filled with scribblers accustomed to lie. + + + + +No. 31. SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 18, 1758. + +Many moralists have remarked, that pride has of all human vices the +widest dominion, appears in the greatest multiplicity of forms, and lies +hid under the greatest variety of disguises; of disguises, which, like +the moon's _veil of brightness_, are both its _lustre and its shade_, +and betray it to others, though they hide it from ourselves. + +It is not my intention to degrade pride from this pre-eminence of +mischief; yet I know not whether idleness may not maintain a very +doubtful and obstinate competition. + +There are some that profess idleness in its full dignity, who call +themselves the _Idle_, as Busiris in the play calls himself the _Proud_; +who boast that they do nothing, and thank their stars that they have +nothing to do; who sleep every night till they can sleep no longer, and +rise only that exercise may enable them to sleep again; who prolong the +reign of darkness by double curtains, and never see the sun but to _tell +him how they hate his beams_; whose whole labour is to vary the posture +of indolence, and whose day differs from their night, but as a couch or +chair differs from a bed. + +These are the true and open votaries of idleness, for whom she weaves +the garlands of poppies, and into whose cup she pours the waters of +oblivion; who exist in a state of unruffled stupidity, forgetting and +forgotten; who have long ceased to live, and at whose death the +survivors can only say, that they have ceased to breathe. + +But idleness predominates in many lives where it is not suspected; for, +being a vice which terminates in itself, it may be enjoyed without +injury to others; and it is therefore not watched like fraud, which +endangers property; or like pride, which naturally seeks its +gratifications in another's inferiority. Idleness is a silent and +peaceful quality, that neither raises envy by ostentation, nor hatred by +opposition; and therefore nobody is busy to censure or detect it. + +As pride sometimes is hid under humility, idleness is often covered by +turbulence and hurry. He that neglects his known duty and real +employment, naturally endeavours to crowd his mind with something that +may bar out the remembrance of his own folly, and does any thing but +what he ought to do with eager diligence, that he may keep himself in +his own favour. + +Some are always in a state of preparation, occupied in previous +measures, forming plans, accumulating materials, and providing for the +main affair. These are certainly under the secret power of idleness. +Nothing is to be expected from the workman whose tools are for ever to +be sought. I was once told by a great master, that no man ever excelled +in painting, who was eminently curious about pencils and colours. + +There are others to whom idleness dictates another expedient, by which +life may be passed unprofitably away without the tediousness of many +vacant hours. The art is, to fill the day with petty business, to have +always something in hand which may raise curiosity, but not solicitude, +and keep the mind in a state of action, but not of labour. + +This art has for many years been practised by my old friend Sober with +wonderful success. Sober is a man of strong desires and quick +imagination, so exactly balanced by the love of ease, that they can +seldom stimulate him to any difficult undertaking; they have, however, +so much power, that they will not suffer him to lie quite at rest; and +though they do not make him sufficiently useful to others, they make him +at least weary of himself. + +Mr. Sober's chief pleasure is conversation; there is no end of his talk +or his attention; to speak or to hear is equally pleasing; for he still +fancies that he is teaching or learning something, and is free for the +time from his own reproaches. + +But there is one time at night when he must go home, that his friends +may sleep; and another time in the morning, when all the world agrees to +shut out interruption. These are the moments of which poor Sober +trembles at the thought. But the misery of these tiresome intervals he +has many means of alleviating. He has persuaded himself that the manual +arts are undeservedly overlooked; he has observed in many trades the +effects of close thought, and just ratiocination. From speculation he +proceeded to practice, and supplied himself with the tools of a +carpenter, with which he mended his coal-box very successfully, and +which he still continues to employ, as he finds occasion. + +He has attempted at other times the crafts of the shoemaker, tinman, +plumber, and potter; in all these arts he has failed, and resolves to +qualify himself for them by better information. But his daily amusement +is chymistry. He has a small furnace, which he employs in distillation, +and which has long been the solace of his life. He draws oils and +waters, and essences and spirits, which he knows to be of no use; sits +and counts the drops, as they come from his retort, and forgets that, +whilst a drop is falling, a moment flies away. + +Poor Sober! I have often teased him with reproof, and he has often +promised reformation; for no man is so much open to conviction as the +Idler, but there is none on whom it operates so little. What will be the +effect of this paper I know not; perhaps, he will read it and laugh, and +light the fire in his furnace; but my hope is, that he will quit his +trifles, and betake himself to rational and useful diligence[1]. + +[1] In Mr. Sober, we may recognise traits of Dr. Johnson's own + character. No. 67 of the Idler is another portrait of him. + + + + +No. 32. SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 25, 1758. + +Among the innumerable mortifications that waylay human arrogance on +every side, may well be reckoned our ignorance of the most common +objects and effects, a defect of which we become more sensible, by every +attempt to supply it. Vulgar and inactive minds confound familiarity +with knowledge, and conceive themselves informed of the whole nature of +things when they are shown their form or told their use; but the +speculatist, who is not content with superficial views, harasses himself +with fruitless curiosity, and still as he inquires more, perceives only +that he knows less. + +Sleep is a state in which a great part of every life is passed. No +animal has been yet discovered, whose existence is not varied with +intervals of insensibility; and some late philosophers have extended the +empire of sleep over the vegetable world. + +Yet of this change, so frequent, so great, so general, and so necessary, +no searcher has yet found either the efficient or final cause; or can +tell by what power the mind and body are thus chained down in +irresistible stupefaction; or what benefits the animal receives from +this alternate suspension of its active powers. + +Whatever may be the multiplicity or contrariety of opinions upon this +subject, nature has taken sufficient care that theory shall have little +influence on practice. The most diligent inquirer is not able long to +keep his eyes open; the most eager disputant will begin about midnight +to desert his argument; and, once in four-and-twenty hours, the gay and +the gloomy, the witty and the dull, the clamorous and the silent, the +busy and the idle, are all overpowered by the gentle tyrant, and all lie +down in the equality of sleep. + +Philosophy has often attempted to repress insolence, by asserting, that +all conditions are levelled by death; a position which, however it may +deject the happy, will seldom afford much comfort to the wretched. It is +far more pleasing to consider, that, sleep is equally a leveller with +death; that the time is never at a great distance, when the balm of rest +shall be diffused alike upon every head, when the diversities of life +shall stop their operation, and the high and the low shall lie down +together[1]. + +It is somewhere recorded of Alexander, that in the pride of conquests, +and intoxication of flattery, he declared that he only perceived himself +to be a man by the necessity of sleep. Whether he considered sleep as +necessary to his mind or body, it was indeed a sufficient evidence of +human infirmity; the body which required such frequency of renovation, +gave but faint promises of immortality; and the mind which, from time to +time, sunk gladly into insensibility, had made no very near approaches +to the felicity of the supreme and self-sufficient nature. + +I know not what can tend more to repress all the passions, that disturb +the peace of the world, than the consideration that there is no height +of happiness or honour, from which man does not eagerly descend to a +state of unconscious repose; that the best condition of life is such, +that we contentedly quit its good to be disentangled from its evils; +that in a few hours splendour fades before the eye, and praise itself +deadens in the ear; the senses withdraw from their objects, and reason +favours the retreat. + +What then are the hopes and prospects of covetousness, ambition, and +rapacity? Let him that desires most have all his desires gratified, he +never shall attain a state which he can, for a day and a night, +contemplate with satisfaction, or from which, if he had the power of +perpetual vigilance, he would not long for periodical separations. + +All envy would be extinguished, if it were universally known that there +are none to be envied, and surely none can be much envied who are not +pleased with themselves. There is reason to suspect, that the +distinctions of mankind have more show than value, when it is found that +all agree to be weary alike of pleasures and of cares; that the powerful +and the weak, the celebrated and obscure, join in one common wish, and +implore from nature's hand the nectar of oblivion. + +Such is our desire of abstraction from ourselves, that very few are +satisfied with the quantity of stupefaction which the needs of the body +force upon the mind. Alexander himself added intemperance to sleep, and +solaced with the fumes of wine the sovereignty of the world: and almost +every man has some art by which he steals his thoughts away from his +present state. + +It is not much of life that is spent in close attention to any important +duty. Many hours of every day are suffered to fly away without any +traces left upon the intellects. We suffer phantoms to rise up before +us, and amuse ourselves with the dance of airy images, which, after a +time, we dismiss for ever, and know not how we have been busied. + +Many have no happier moments than those that they pass in solitude, +abandoned to their own imagination, which sometimes puts sceptres in +their hands or mitres on their heads, shifts the scene of pleasure with +endless variety, bids all the forms of beauty sparkle before them, and +gluts them with every change of visionary luxury. + +It is easy in these semi-slumbers to collect all the possibilities of +happiness, to alter the course of the sun, to bring back the past, and +anticipate the future, to unite all the beauties of all seasons, and all +the blessings of all climates, to receive and bestow felicity, and +forget that misery is the lot of man. All this is a voluntary dream, a +temporary recession from the realities of life to airy fictions; and +habitual subjection of reason to fancy. + +Others are afraid to be alone, and amuse themselves by a perpetual +succession of companions: but the difference is not great; in solitude +we have our dreams to ourselves, and in company we agree to dream in +concert. The end sought in both is forgetfulness of ourselves. + +[1] "For half their life," says Aristotle, "the happy differ not from + the wretched.".--Nichom. Ethic, i. 13. + + [Greek: Hypn odunas adaaes, Hypne d algeon + Euaaes haemin elthois, + Euaion, euaion anax.] Soph. Philoct. 827. + + + + + No. 33. SATURDAY, DECEMBER 2, 1758. + +[I hope the author of the following letter[1] will excuse the omission +of some parts, and allow me to remark, that the Journal of the Citizen +in the Spectator has almost precluded the attempt of any future writer.] + + --_Non ita Romuli Praescriptum, et intonsi Catonis +Auspiciis, veterumque norma_. HOR. Lib. ii. Ode xv. 10. + +Sir, + +You have often solicited correspondence. I have sent you the Journal of +a Senior Fellow, or Genuine Idler, just transmitted from Cambridge by a +facetious correspondent, and warranted to have been transcribed from the +common-place book of the journalist. + +Monday, Nine o'Clock. Turned off my bed-maker for waking me at eight. +Weather rainy. Consulted my weather-glass. No hopes of a ride before +dinner. + +Ditto, Ten. After breakfast, transcribed half a sermon from Dr. Hickman. +N.B. Never to transcribe any more from Calamy; Mrs. Pilcocks, at my +curacy, having one volume of that author lying in her parlour-window. + +Ditto, Eleven. Went down into my cellar. Mem. My Mountain will be fit to +drink in a month's time. N.B. To remove the five-year old port into the +new bin on the left hand. + +Ditto, Twelve. Mended a pen. Looked at my weather-glass again. +Quicksilver very low. Shaved. Barber's hand shakes. + +Ditto, One. Dined alone in my room on a sole. N.B. The shrimp-sauce not +so good as Mr. H. of Peterhouse and I used to eat in London last winter +at the Mitre in Fleet-street. Sat down to a pint of Madeira. Mr. H. +surprised me over it. We finished two bottles of port together, and were +very cheerful. Mem. To dine with Mr. H. at Peterhouse next Wednesday. +One of the dishes a leg of pork and pease, by my desire. + +Ditto, Six. Newspaper in the common room. + +Ditto, Seven. Returned to my room. Made a tiff of warm punch, and to bed +before nine; did not fall asleep till ten, a young fellow commoner being +very noisy over my head. + +Tuesday, Nine, Rose squeamish. A fine morning. Weather-glass very high. + +Ditto, Ten. Ordered my horse, and rode to the five-mile stone on the +Newmarket road. Appetite gets better. A pack of hounds, in full cry, +crossed the road, and startled my horse. + +Ditto, Twelve. Drest. Found a letter on my table to be in London the +19th inst. Bespoke a new wig. + +Ditto, One. At dinner in the hall. Too much water in the soup. Dr. Dry +always orders the beef to be salted too much for me. + +Ditto, Two. In the common room. Dr. Dry gave us an instance of a +gentleman who kept the gout out of his stomach by drinking old Madeira. +Conversation chiefly on the expeditions. Company broke up at four. Dr. +Dry and myself played at backgammon for a brace of snipes. Won. + +Ditto, Five. At the coffee-house. Met Mr. H. there. Could not get a +sight of the Monitor. + +Ditto, Seven. Returned home, and stirred my fire. Went to the common +room, and supped on the snipes with Dr. Dry. + +Ditto, Eight. Began the evening in the common room. Dr. Dry told several +stories. Were very merry. Our new fellow, that studies physick, very +talkative toward twelve. Pretends he will bring the youngest Miss ---- to +drink tea with me soon. Impertinent blockhead! + +Wednesday, Nine. Alarmed with a pain in my ankle. Q. The gout? Fear I +can't dine at Peterhouse; but I hope a ride will set all to rights. +Weather-glass below Fair. + +Ditto, Ten. Mounted my horse, though the weather suspicious. Pain in my +ankle entirely gone. Caught in a shower coming back. Convinced that my +weather-glass is the best in Cambridge. + +Ditto, Twelve. Drest. Sauntered up to the Fish-monger's hill. Met Mr. H. +and went with him to Peterhouse. Cook made us wait thirty-six minutes +beyond the time. The company, some of my Emmanuel friends. For dinner, a +pair of soles, a leg of pork and pease, among other things. Mem. +Pease-pudding not boiled enough. Cook reprimanded and sconced in my +presence. + +Ditto, after Dinner. Pain in my ankle returns. Dull all the afternoon. +Rallied for being no company. Mr. H.'s account of the accommodations on +the road in his Bath journey. + +Ditto, Six. Got into spirits. Never was more chatty. We sat late at +whist. Mr. H. and self agreed at parting to take a gentle ride, and dine +at the old house on the London road to-morrow. + +Thursday, Nine. My sempstress. She has lost the measure of my wrist. +Forced to be measured again. The baggage has got a trick of smiling. + +Ditto, Ten to Eleven. Made some rappee snuff. Read the magazines. +Received a present of pickles from Miss Pilcocks. Mem. To send in return +some collared eel, which I know both the old lady and miss are fond of. + +Ditto, Eleven. Glass very high. Mounted at the gate with Mr. H. Horse +skittish, and wants exercise. Arrive at the old house. All the +provisions bespoke by some rakish fellow-commoner in the next room, who +had been on a scheme to Newmarket. Could get nothing but mutton-chops +off the worst end. Port very new. Agree to try some other house +to-morrow. + +Here the journal breaks off: for the next morning, as my friend informs +me, our genial academick was waked with a severe fit of the gout; and, +at present, enjoys all the dignity of that disease. But I believe we +have lost nothing by this interruption: since a continuation of the +remainder of the journal, through the remainder of the week, would most +probably have exhibited nothing more than a repeated relation of the +same circumstances of idling and luxury. + +I hope it will not be concluded, from this specimen of academick life, +that I have attempted to decry our universities. If literature is not +the essential requisite of the modern academick, I am yet persuaded, +that Cambridge and Oxford, however degenerated, surpass the fashionable +_academies_ of our metropolis, and the _gymnasia_ of foreign countries. +The number of learned persons in these celebrated seats is still +considerable, and more conveniencies and opportunities for study still +subsist in them, than in any other place. There is at least one very +powerful incentive to learning; I mean the GENIUS _of the place_. It is +a sort of inspiring deity, which every youth of quick sensibility and +ingenious disposition creates to himself, by reflecting, that he is +placed under those venerable walls, where a HOOKER and a HAMMOND, a +BACON and a NEWTON, once pursued the same course of science, and from +whence they soared to the most elevated heights of literary fame. This +is that incitement which Tully, according to his own testimony, +experienced at Athens, when he contemplated the porticos where Socrates +sat, and the laurel-groves where Plato disputed[2]. + +But there are other circumstances, and of the highest importance, which +render our colleges superior to all other places of education. Their +institutions, although somewhat fallen from their primaeval simplicity, +are such as influence, in a particular manner, the moral conduct of +their youth; and in this general depravity of manners and laxity of +principles, pure religion is no where more strongly inculcated. The +_academies_, as they are presumptuously styled, are too low to be +mentioned; and foreign seminaries are likely to prejudice the unwary +mind with Calvinism. But English universities render their students +virtuous, at least by excluding all opportunities of vice; and, by +teaching them the principles of the Church of England, confirm them in +those of true Christianity. + +[1] Mr. Thomas Warton. + +[2] A rich assemblage of examples, of the "influence of perceptible + objects in reviving former thoughts and former feelings," is + collected in Dr. Brown's Philosophy of the Human Mind, vol. 2, + Lecture 38. + + + + +No. 34. SATURDAY, DECEMBER 9, 1758. + +To illustrate one thing by its resemblance to another, has been always +the most popular and efficacious art of instruction. There is indeed no +other method of teaching that of which any one is ignorant, but by means +of something already known; and a mind so enlarged by contemplation, and +inquiry, that it has always many objects within its view, will seldom be +long without some near and familiar image through which an easy +transition may be made to truths more distant and obscure. + +Of the parallels which have been drawn by wit and curiosity, some are +literal and real, as between poetry and painting, two arts which pursue +the same end, by the operation of the same mental faculties, and which +differ only as the one represents things by marks permanent and natural, +the other by signs accidental and arbitrary. The one, therefore, is more +easily and generally understood, since similitude of form is immediately +perceived; the other is capable of conveying more ideas, for men have +thought and spoken of many things which they do not see. + +Other parallels are fortuitous and fanciful, yet these have sometimes +been extended to many particulars of resemblance by a lucky concurrence +of diligence and chance. The animal body is composed of many members, +united under the direction of one mind: any number of individuals, +connected for some common purpose, is therefore called a body. From this +participation of the same appellation arose the comparison of the body +natural and body politick, of which, how far soever it has been deduced, +no end has hitherto been found. + +In these imaginary similitudes, the same word is used at once in its +primitive and metaphorical sense. Thus health, ascribed to the body +natural, is opposed to sickness; but attributed to the body politick +stands as contrary to adversity. These parallels therefore have more of +genius, but less of truth; they often please, but they never convince. + +Of this kind is a curious speculation frequently indulged by a +philosopher of my acquaintance, who had discovered, that the qualities +requisite to conversation are very exactly represented by a bowl of +punch. + +Punch, says this profound investigator, is a liquor compounded of spirit +and acid juices, sugar and water. The spirit, volatile and fiery, is the +proper emblem of vivacity and wit; the acidity of the lemon will very +aptly figure pungency of raillery, and acrimony of censure; sugar is the +natural representative of luscious adulation and gentle complaisance; +and water is the proper hieroglyphick of easy prattle, innocent and +tasteless. + +Spirit alone is too powerful for use. It will produce madness rather +than merriment; and instead of quenching thirst will inflame the blood. +Thus wit, too copiously poured out, agitates the hearer with emotions +rather violent than pleasing; every one shrinks from the force of its +oppression, the company sits entranced and overpowered; all are +astonished, but nobody is pleased. + +The acid juices give this genial liquor all its power of stimulating the +palate. Conversation would become dull and vapid, if negligence were not +sometimes roused, and sluggishness quickened, by due severity of +reprehension. But acids unmixed will distort the face and torture the +palate; and he that has no other qualities than penetration and +asperity, he whose constant employment is detection and censure, who +looks only to find faults, and speaks only to punish them, will soon be +dreaded, hated and avoided. + +The taste of sugar is generally pleasing, but it cannot long be eaten by +itself. Thus meekness and courtesy will always recommend the first +address, but soon pall and nauseate, unless they are associated with +more sprightly qualities. The chief use of sugar is to temper the taste +of other substances; and softness of behaviour, in the same manner, +mitigates the roughness of contradiction, and allays the bitterness of +unwelcome truth. + +Water is the universal vehicle by which are conveyed the particles +necessary to sustenance and growth, by which thirst is quenched, and all +the wants of life and nature are supplied. Thus all the business of the +world is transacted by artless and easy talk, neither sublimed by fancy, +nor discoloured by affectation, without either the harshness of satire, +or the lusciousness of flattery. By this limpid vein of language, +curiosity is gratified, and all the knowledge is conveyed which one man +is required to impart for the safety or convenience of another. Water is +the only ingredient in punch which can be used alone, and with which man +is content till fancy has framed an artificial want. Thus while we only +desire to have our ignorance informed, we are most delighted with the +plainest diction; and it is only in the moments of idleness or pride, +that we call for the gratifications of wit or flattery. + +He only will please long, who, by tempering the acidity of satire with +the sugar of civility, and allaying the heat of wit with the frigidity +of humble chat, can make the true punch of conversation; and, as that +punch can be drunk in the greatest quantity which has the largest +proportion of water, so that companion will be oftenest welcome, whose +talk flows out with inoffensive copiousness, and unenvied insipidity. + + + + +No. 35. SATURDAY, DECEMBER 16, 1758. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Mr. Idler, + +If it be difficult to persuade the idle to be busy, it is likewise, as +experience has taught me, not easy to convince the busy that it is +better to be idle. When you shall despair of stimulating sluggishness to +motion, I hope you will turn your thoughts towards the means of stilling +the bustle of pernicious activity. + +I am the unfortunate husband of a _buyer of bargains_. My wife has +somewhere heard, that a good housewife _never_ has any thing to +_purchase when it is wanted_. This maxim is often in her mouth, and +always in her head. She is not one of those philosophical talkers that +speculate without practice; and learn sentences of wisdom only to repeat +them: she is always making additions to her stores; she never looks into +a broker's shop, but she spies something that may be wanted some time; +and it is impossible to make her pass the door of a house where she +hears _goods selling by auction_. + +Whatever she thinks cheap, she holds it the duty of an economist to buy; +in consequence of this maxim, we are encumbered on every side with +useless lumber. The servants can scarcely creep to their beds through +the chests and boxes that surround them. The carpenter is employed once +a week in building closets, fixing cupboards, and fastening shelves; and +my house has the appearance of a ship stored for a voyage to the +colonies. + +I had often observed that advertisements set her on fire; and therefore, +pretending to emulate her laudable frugality, I forbade the newspaper to +be taken any longer; but my precaution is vain; I know not by what +fatality, or by what confederacy, every catalogue of _genuine furniture_ +comes to her hand, every advertisement of a warehouse newly opened, is +in her pocketbook, and she knows before any of her neighbours when the +stock of any man _leaving off trade_ is to be _sold cheap for ready +money_. + +Such intelligence is to my dear-one the Syren's song. No engagement, no +duty, no interest, can withhold her from a sale, from which she always +returns congratulating herself upon her dexterity at a bargain; the +porter lays down his burden in the hall; she displays her new +acquisitions, and spends the rest of the day in contriving where they +shall be put. + +As she cannot bear to have any thing uncomplete, one purchase +necessitates another; she has twenty feather-beds more than she can use, +and a late sale has supplied her with a proportionable number of Witney +blankets, a large roll of linen for sheets, and five quilts for every +bed, which she bought because the seller told her, that if she would +clear his hands he would let her have a bargain. + +Thus by hourly encroachments my habitation is made narrower and +narrower; the dining-room is so crowded with tables, that dinner +scarcely can be served; the parlour is decorated with so many piles of +china, that I dare not step within the door; at every turn of the stairs +I have a clock, and half the windows of the upper floors are darkened, +that shelves may be set before them. + +This, however, might be borne, if she would gratify her own inclinations +without opposing mine. But I, who am idle, am luxurious, and she +condemns me to live upon salt provisions. She knows the loss of buying +in small quantities, we have, therefore, whole hogs and quarters of +oxen. Part of our meat is tainted before it is eaten, and part is thrown +away because it is spoiled; but she persists in her system, and will +never buy any thing by single penny-worths. + +The common vice of those who are still grasping at more, is to neglect +that which they already possess; but from this failing my charmer is +free. It is the great care of her life that the pieces of beef should be +boiled in the order in which they are bought; that the second bag of +pease should not be opened till the first be eaten; that every +feather-bed should be lain on in its turn; that the carpets should be +taken out of the chests once a month and brushed, and the rolls of linen +opened now and then before the fire. She is daily inquiring after the best +traps for mice, and keeps the rooms always scented by fumigations to +destroy the moths. She employs workmen, from time to time, to adjust six +clocks that never go, and clean five jacks that rust in the garret; and +a woman in the next alley lives by scouring the brass and pewter, which +are only laid up to tarnish again. + +She is always imagining some distant time, in which she shall use +whatever she accumulates: she has four looking-glasses which she cannot +hang up in her house, but which will be handsome in more lofty rooms; +and pays rent for the place of a vast copper in some warehouse, because, +when we live in the country, we shall brew our own beer. + +Of this life I have long been weary, but know not how to change it: all +the married men whom I consult advise me to have patience; but some old +bachelors are of opinion that, since she loves sales so well, she should +have a sale of her own; and I have, I think, resolved to open her +hoards, and advertise an auction. + +I am, Sir, + +Your very humble servant, + +PETER PLENTY. + + + + +No. 30. SATURDAY, DECEMBER 23, 1758. + +The great differences that disturb the peace of mankind are not about +ends, but means. We have all the same general desires, but how those +desires shall be accomplished will for ever be disputed. The ultimate +purpose of government is temporal, and that of religion is eternal +happiness. Hitherto we agree; but here we must part, to try, according +to the endless varieties of passion and understanding combined with one +another, every possible form of government, and every imaginable tenet +of religion. + +We are told by Cumberland that _rectitude_, applied to action or +contemplation, is merely metaphorical; and that as a _right_ line +describes the shortest passage from point to point, so a _right_ action +effects a good design by the fewest means; and so likewise a _right_ +opinion is that which connects distant truths by the shortest train of +intermediate propositions. + +To find the nearest way from truth to truth, or from purpose to effect, +not to use more instruments where fewer will be sufficient; not to move +by wheels and levers what will give way to the naked hand, is the great +proof of a healthful and vigorous mind, neither feeble with helpless +ignorance, nor overburdened with unwieldy knowledge. + +But there are men who seem to think nothing so much the characteristick +of a genius, as to do common things in an uncommon manner; like +Hudibras, to _tell the clock by algebra_; or like the lady in Dr. +Young's satires, _to drink tea by stratagem_; to quit the beaten track, +only because it is known, and take a new path, however crooked or rough, +because the straight was found out before. + +Every man speaks and writes with intent to be understood; and it can +seldom happen but he that understands himself, might convey his notions +to another, if, content to be understood, he did not seek to be admired; +but when once he begins to contrive how his sentiments may be received, +not with most ease to his reader, but with most advantage to himself, he +then transfers his consideration from words to sounds, from sentences to +periods, and as he grows more elegant becomes less intelligible. + +It is difficult to enumerate every species of authors whose labours +counteract themselves; the man of exuberance and copiousness, who +diffuses every thought through so many diversities of expression, that +it is lost like water in a mist; the ponderous dictator of sentences, +whose notions are delivered in the lump, and are, like uncoined bullion, +of more weight than use; the liberal illustrator, who shows by examples +and comparisons what was clearly seen when it was first proposed; and +the stately son of demonstration, who proves with mathematical formality +what no man has yet pretended to doubt. + +There is a mode of style for which I know not that the masters of +oratory have yet found a name; a style by which the most evident truths +are so obscured that they can no longer be perceived, and the most +familiar propositions so disguised that they cannot be known. Every +other kind of eloquence is the dress of sense; but this is the mask by +which a true master of his art will so effectually conceal it, that a +man will as easily mistake his own positions, if he meets them thus +transformed, as he may pass in a masquerade his nearest acquaintance. + +This style may be called the _terrifick_, for its chief intention is to +terrify and amaze; it may be termed the _repulsive_, for its natural +effect is to drive away the reader; or it may be distinguished, in plain +English, by the denomination of the _bugbear style_, for it has more +terrour than danger, and will appear less formidable as it is more +nearly approached. + +A mother tells her infant, that _two and two make four_; the child +remembers the proposition, and is able to count four to all the purposes +of life, till the course of his education brings him among philosophers, +who fright him from his former knowledge, by telling him, that four is a +certain aggregate of units; that all numbers being only the repetition +of an unit, which, though not a number itself, is the parent, root, or +original of all number, _four_ is the denomination assigned to a certain +number of such repetitions. The only danger is, lest, when he first +hears these dreadful sounds, the pupil should run away; if he has but +the courage to stay till the conclusion, he will find that, when +speculation has done its worst, two and two still make four. + +An illustrious example of this species of eloquence may be found in +"Letters concerning Mind." The author begins by declaring, that "the +sorts of things are things that now are, have been, and shall be, and +the things that strictly _are_." In this position, except the last +clause, in which he uses something of the scholastick language, there is +nothing but what every man has heard, and imagines himself to know. But +who would not believe that some wonderful novelty is presented to his +intellect, when he is afterwards told, in the true bugbear style, that +"the _ares_, in the former sense, are things that lie between the +_have-beens_ and _shall-bes_. The _have-beens_ are things that are past; +the _shall-bes_ are things that are to come; and the things that _are_, +in the latter sense, are things that have not been, nor shall be, nor +stand in the midst of such as are before them, or shall be after them. +The things that _have been_, and _shall be_, have respect to present, +past, and future. + +"Those likewise that now _are_ have moreover place; that, for instance, +which is here, that which is to the east, that which is to the west." + +All this, my dear reader, is very strange; but though it be strange, it +is not new; survey these wonderful sentences again, and they will be +found to contain nothing more than very plain truths, which, till this +author arose, had always been delivered in plain language[1]. + + +[1] These "Letters on Mind" were written by a Mr. Petvin, who after some + years again astounded the literary public by sending forth, in + diction equally terrific, another tract entitled a "Summary of the + Soul's Perceptive Faculties," 1768. He was at that time compared to + Duns Scotus, the subtle Doctor, who, in the weakness of old age, + wept because he could not understand the subtleties of his earlier + writings. + + + + +No. 37. SATURDAY, DECEMBER 30, 1758. + +Those who are skilled in the extraction and preparation of metals +declare, that iron is every where to be found; and that not only its +proper ore is copiously treasured in the caverns of the earth, but that +its particles are dispersed throughout all other bodies. + +If the extent of the human view could comprehend the whole frame of the +universe, I believe it would be found invariably true, that Providence +has given that in greatest plenty, which the condition of life makes of +greatest use; and that nothing is penuriously imparted, or placed far +from the reach of man, of which a more liberal distribution, or more +easy acquisition, would increase real and rational felicity. + +Iron is common, and gold is rare. Iron contributes so much to supply the +wants of nature, that its use constitutes much of the difference between +savage and polished life, between the state of him that slumbers in +European palaces, and him that shelters himself in the cavities of a +rock from the chilness of the night, or the violence of the storm. Gold +can never be hardened into saws or axes; it can neither furnish +instruments of manufacture, utensils of agriculture, nor weapons of +defence; its only quality is to shine, and the value of its lustre +arises from its scarcity. + +Throughout the whole circle, both of natural and moral life, necessaries +are as iron, and superfluities as gold. What we really need we may +readily obtain; so readily, that far the greater part of mankind has, in +the wantonness of abundance, confounded natural with artificial desires, +and invented necessities for the sake of employment, because the mind is +impatient of inaction, and life is sustained with so little labour, that +the tediousness of idle time cannot otherwise be supported. + +Thus plenty is the original cause of many of our needs; and even the +poverty, which is so frequent and distressful in civilized nations, +proceeds often from that change of manners which opulence has produced. +Nature makes us poor only when we want necessaries; but custom gives the +name of poverty to the want of superfluities. + +When Socrates passed through shops of toys and ornaments, he cried out, +"How many things are here which I do not need!" And the same exclamation +may every man make who surveys the common accommodations of life. + +Superfluity and difficulty begin together. To dress food for the stomach +is easy, the art is to irritate the palate when the stomach is sufficed. +A rude hand may build walls, form roofs, and lay floors, and provide all +that warmth and security require; we only call the nicer artificers to +carve the cornice, or to paint the ceilings. Such dress as may enable +the body to endure the different seasons, the most unenlightened nations +have been able to procure; but the work of science begins in the +ambition of distinction, in variations of fashion, and emulation of +elegance. Corn grows with easy culture; the gardener's experiments are +only employed to exalt the flavours of fruits, and brighten the colours +of flowers. + +Even of knowledge, those parts are most easy which are generally +necessary. The intercourse of society is maintained without the +elegancies of language. Figures, criticisms, and refinements, are the +work of those whom idleness makes weary of themselves. The commerce of +the world is carried on by easy methods of computation. Subtilty and +study are required only when questions are invented merely to puzzle, +and calculations are extended to show the skill of the calculator. The +light of the sun is equally beneficial to him whose eyes tell him that +it moves, and to him whose reason persuades him that it stands still; +and plants grow with the same luxuriance, whether we suppose earth or +water the parent of vegetation. + +If we raise our thoughts to nobler inquiries, we shall still find +facility concurring with usefulness. No man needs stay to be virtuous, +till the moralists have determined the essence of virtue; our duty is +made apparent by its proximate consequences, though the general and +ultimate reason should never be discovered. Religion may regulate the +life of him to whom the Scotists and Thomists are alike unknown; and the +assertors of fate and free-will, however different in their talk, agree +to act in the same manner. + +It is not my intention to depreciate the politer arts or abstruser +studies. That curiosity which always succeeds ease and plenty, was +undoubtedly given us as a proof of capacity which our present state is +not able to fill, as a preparative for some better mode of existence, +which shall furnish employment for the whole soul, and where pleasure +shall be adequate to our powers of fruition. In the mean time, let us +gratefully acknowledge that goodness which grants us ease at a cheap +rate, which changes the seasons where the nature of heat and cold has +not been yet examined, and gives the vicissitudes of day and night to +those who never marked the tropicks, or numbered the constellations. + + + + +No. 38. SATURDAY, JANUARY 6, 1759. + +Since the publication of the letter concerning the condition of those +who are confined in gaols by their creditors, an inquiry is said to have +been made, by which it appears that more than twenty thousand[1] are at +this time prisoners for debt. + +We often look with indifference on the successive parts of that, which, +if the whole were seen together, would shake us with emotion. A debtor +is dragged to prison, pitied for a moment, and then forgotten; another +follows him, and is lost alike in the caverns of oblivion; but when the +whole mass of calamity rises up at once, when twenty thousand reasonable +beings are heard all groaning in unnecessary misery, not by the +infirmity of nature, but the mistake or negligence of policy, who can +forbear to pity and lament, to wonder and abhor? + +There is here no need of declamatory vehemence: we live in an age of +commerce and computation; let us, therefore, coolly inquire what is the +sum of evil which the imprisonment of debtors brings upon our country. + +It seems to be the opinion of the later computists, that the inhabitants +of England do not exceed six millions, of which twenty thousand is the +three-hundredth part. What shall we say of the humanity or the wisdom of +a nation, that voluntarily sacrifices one in every three hundred to +lingering destruction? + +The misfortunes of an individual do not extend their influence to many; +yet, if we consider the effects of consanguinity and friendship, and the +general reciprocation of wants and benefits, which make one man dear or +necessary to another, it may reasonably be supposed, that every man +languishing in prison gives trouble of some kind to two others who love +or need him. By this multiplication of misery we see distress extended +to the hundredth part of the whole society. + +If we estimate at a shilling a day what is lost by the inaction, and +consumed in the support of each man thus chained down to involuntary +idleness, the publick loss will rise in one year to three hundred +thousand pounds; in ten years to more than a sixth part of our +circulating coin. + +I am afraid that those who are best acquainted with the state of our +prisons will confess that my conjecture is too near the truth, when I +suppose that the corrosion of resentment, the heaviness of sorrow, the +corruption of confined air, the want of exercise, and sometimes of food, +the contagion of diseases, from which there is no retreat, and the +severity of tyrants, against whom there can be no resistance, and all +the complicated horrours of a prison, put an end every year to the life +of one in four of those that are shut up from the common comforts of +human life. + +Thus perish yearly five thousand men overborne with sorrow, consumed by +famine, or putrefied by filth; many of them in the most vigorous and +useful part of life; for the thoughtless and imprudent are commonly +young, and the active and busy are seldom old. + +According to the rule generally received, which supposes that one in +thirty dies yearly, the race of man may be said to be renewed at the end +of thirty years. Who would have believed till now, that of every English +generation, a hundred and fifty thousand perish in our gaols? that in +every century, a nation eminent for science, studious of commerce, +ambitious of empire, should willingly lose, in noisome dungeons, five +hundred thousand of its inhabitants; a number greater than has ever been +destroyed in the same time by pestilence and the sword? + +A very late occurrence may show us the value of the number which we thus +condemn to be useless; in the reestablishment of the trained bands, +thirty thousand are considered as a force sufficient against all +exigencies. While, therefore, we detain twenty thousand in prison, we +shut up in darkness and uselessness two-thirds of an army which +ourselves judge equal to the defence of our country. + +The monastick institutions have been often blamed, as tending to retard +the increase of mankind. And, perhaps, retirement ought rarely to be +permitted, except to those whose employment is consistent with +abstraction, and who, though solitary, will not be idle; to those whom +infirmity makes useless to the commonwealth, or to those who have paid +their due proportion to society, and who, having lived for others, may +be honourably dismissed to live for themselves. But whatever be the evil +or the folly of these retreats, those have no right to censure them +whose prisons contain greater numbers than the monasteries of other +countries. It is, surely, less foolish and less criminal to permit +inaction than compel it; to comply with doubtful opinions of happiness, +than condemn to certain and apparent misery; to indulge the +extravagancies of erroneous piety, than to multiply and enforce +temptations to wickedness. + +The misery of gaols is not half their evil: they are filled with every +corruption which poverty and wickedness can generate between them; with +all the shameless and profligate enormities that can be produced by the +impudence of ignominy, the rage of want, and the malignity of despair. +In a prison the awe of the publick eye is lost, and the power of the law +is spent; there are few fears, there are no blushes. The lewd inflame +the lewd, the audacious harden the audacious. Every one fortifies +himself as he can against his own sensibility, endeavours to practise on +others the arts which are practised on himself; and gains the kindness +of his associates by similitude of manners. + +Thus some sink amidst their misery, and others survive only to propagate +villany. It may be hoped, that our lawgivers will at length take away +from us this power of starving and depraving one another; but, if there +be any reason why this inveterate evil should not be removed in our age, +which true policy has enlightened beyond any former time, let those, +whose writings form the opinions and the practices of their +contemporaries, endeavour to transfer the reproach of such imprisonment +from the debtor to the creditor, till universal infamy shall pursue the +wretch whose wantonness of power, or revenge of disappointment, condemns +another to torture and to ruin; till he shall be hunted through the +world as an enemy to man, and find in riches no shelter from contempt. + +Surely, he whose debtor has perished in prison, although he may acquit +himself of deliberate murder, must at least have his mind clouded with +discontent, when he considers how much another has suffered from him; +when he thinks on the wife bewailing her husband, or the children +begging the bread which their father would have earned. If there are any +made so obdurate by avarice or cruelty, as to revolve these consequences +without dread or pity, I must leave them to be awakened by some other +power, for I write only to human beings[2]. + + +[1] This number was, at that time, confidently published; but the author +has since found reason to question the calculation. + +[2] A series of Essays, entitled the Farrago, was published in 1792, for + the benefit of the society for the discharge and relief of persons + imprisoned for small debts. See Dr. Drake's Essays on the Rambler, + &c. vol. ii. p. 427. The Congress of the United States passed a law + in 1824, abolishing arrest and imprisonment for debt. The measure + has yet to stand the test of practice and experience. See Idler 22. + and note. + + + + +No. 39. SATURDAY, JANUARY 13, 1759. + + _Nec genus ornatus unun est: quod quamque decebit, + Eligat_--OVID. Ars. Am. iii. 135. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Sir, + +As none look more diligently about them than those who have nothing to +do, or who do nothing, I suppose it has not escaped your observation, +that the bracelet, an ornament of great antiquity, has been for some +years revived among the English ladies. + +The genius of our nation is said, I know not for what reason, to appear +rather in improvement than invention. The bracelet was known in the +earliest ages; but it was formerly only a hoop of gold, or a cluster of +jewels, and showed nothing but the wealth or vanity of the wearer, till +our ladies, by carrying pictures on their wrists, made their ornaments +works of fancy and exercises of judgment. + +This addition of art to luxury is one of the innumerable proofs that +might be given of the late increase of female erudition; and I have +often congratulated myself that my life has happened at a time when +those, on whom so much of human felicity depends, have learned to think +as well as speak, and when respect takes possession of the ear, while +love is entering at the eye. + +I have observed, that, even by the suffrages of their own sex, those +ladies are accounted wisest, who do not yet disdain to be taught; and, +therefore, I shall offer a few hints for the completion of the bracelet, +without any dread of the fate of Orpheus. + +To the ladies, who wear the pictures of their husbands or children, or +any other relations, I can offer nothing more decent or more proper. It +is reasonable to believe that she intends at least to perform her duty, +who carries a perpetual excitement to recollection and caution, whose +own ornaments must upbraid her with every failure, and who, by an open +violation of her engagements, must for ever forfeit her bracelet. + +Yet I know not whether it is the interest of the husband to solicit very +earnestly a place on the bracelet. If his image be not in the heart, it +is of small avail to hang it on the hand. A husband encircled with +diamonds and rubies may gain some esteem, but will never excite love. He +that thinks himself most secure of his wife, should be fearful of +persecuting her continually with his presence. The joy of life is +variety; the tenderest love requires to be rekindled by intervals of +absence; and Fidelity herself will be wearied with transferring her eye +only from the same man to the same picture. + +In many countries the condition of every woman is known by her dress. +Marriage is rewarded with some honourable distinction, which celibacy is +forbidden to usurp. Some such information a bracelet might afford. The +ladies might enrol themselves in distinct classes, and carry in open +view the emblems of their order. The bracelet of the authoress may +exhibit the Muses in a grove of laurel; the housewife may show Penelope +with her web; the votaress of a single life may carry Ursula with her +troop of virgins; the gamester may have Fortune with her wheel; and +those women _that have no character at all_ may display a field of white +enamel, as imploring help to fill up the vacuity. + +There is a set of ladies who have outlived most animal pleasures, and, +having nothing rational to put in their place, solace with cards the +loss of what time has taken away, and the want of what wisdom, having +never been courted, has never given. For these I know not how to provide +a proper decoration. They cannot be numbered among the gamesters; for +though they are always at play, they play for nothing, and never rise to +the dignity of hazard or the reputation of skill. They neither love nor +are loved, and cannot be supposed to contemplate any human image with +delight. Yet, though they despair to please, they always wish to be +fine, and, therefore, cannot be without a bracelet. To this sisterhood I +can recommend nothing more likely to please them than the king of clubs, +a personage very comely and majestick, who will never meet their eyes +without reviving the thought of some past or future party, and who may +be displayed, in the act of dealing, with grace and propriety. + +But the bracelet which might be most easily introduced into general use +is a small convex mirror, in which the lady may see herself whenever she +shall lift her hand. This will be a perpetual source of delight. Other +ornaments are of use only in publick, but this will furnish +gratifications to solitude. This will show a face that must always +please; she who is followed by admirers will carry about her a perpetual +justification of the publick voice; and she who passes without notice +may appeal from prejudice to her own eyes. + +But I know not why the privilege of the bracelet should be confined to +women; it was in former ages worn by heroes in battle; and, as modern +soldiers are always distinguished by splendour of dress, I should +rejoice to see the bracelet added to the cockade. + +In hope of this ornamental innovation, I have spent some thoughts upon +military bracelets. There is no passion more heroick than love; and, +therefore, I should be glad to see the sons of England marching in the +field, every man with the picture of a woman of honour bound upon his +hand. But since in the army, as every where else, there will always be +men who love nobody but themselves, or whom no woman of honour will +permit to love her, there is a necessity of some other distinctions and +devices. + +I have read of a prince who, having lost a town, ordered the name of it +to be every morning shouted in his ear till it should be recovered. For +the same purpose I think the prospect of Minorca might be properly worn +on the hands of some of our generals: others might delight their +countrymen, and dignify themselves, with a view of Rochfort as it +appeared to them at sea: and those that shall return from the conquest +of America, may exhibit the warehouse of Frontenac, with an inscription +denoting, that it was taken in less than three years by less than twenty +thousand men. + +I am, Sir, &c. + +TOM TOY. + + + + +No. 40. SATURDAY, JANUARY 20, 1759. + +The practice of appending to the narratives of publick transactions more +minute and domestick intelligence, and filling the newspapers with +advertisements, has grown up by slow degrees to its present state. + +Genius is shown only by invention. The man who first took advantage of +the general curiosity that was excited by a siege or battle, to betray +the readers of news into the knowledge of the shop where the best puffs +and powder were to be sold, was undoubtedly a man of great sagacity, and +profound skill in the nature of man. But when he had once shown the way, +it was easy to follow him; and every man now knows a ready method of +informing the publick of all that he desires to buy or sell; whether his +wares be material or intellectual; whether he makes clothes, or teaches +the mathematicks; whether he be a tutor that wants a pupil, or a pupil +that wants a tutor. + +Whatever is common is despised. Advertisements are now so numerous that +they are very negligently perused, and it is, therefore, become +necessary to gain attention by magnificence of promises, and by +eloquence sometimes sublime and sometimes pathetick. + +Promise, large promise, is the soul of an advertisement. I remember a +_wash-ball_ that had a quality truly wonderful--it gave an _exquisite +edge to the razor_. And there are now to be sold, _for ready money +only_, some _duvets for bed-coverings, of down, beyond comparison +superior to what is called otter-down_, and indeed such, that its _many +excellencies cannot be here set forth_. With one excellence we are made +acquainted--_it is warmer than four or five blankets, and lighter than +one._ + +There are some, however, that know the prejudice of mankind in favour of +modest sincerity. The vender of the _beautifying fluid_ sells a lotion +that repels pimples, washes away freckles, smooths the skin, and plumps +the flesh; and yet, with a generous abhorrence of ostentation, +confesses, that it will not _restore the bloom of fifteen to a lady of +fifty_. + +The true pathos of advertisements must have sunk deep into the heart of +every man that remembers the zeal shown by the seller of the _anodyne +necklace_, for the ease and safety of _poor teething infants_, and the +affection with which he warned every mother, that _she would never +forgive herself_, if her infant should perish without a necklace. + +I cannot but remark to the celebrated author who gave, in his +notifications of the camel and dromedary, so many specimens of the +genuine sublime, that there is now arrived another subject yet more +worthy of his pen. _A famous Mohawk Indian warrior, who took_ Dieskaw +_the French general prisoner, dressed in the same manner with the native +Indians when they go to war, with his face and body painted, with his +scalping-knife, tom-axe, and all other implements of war! a sight worthy +the curiosity of every true Briton!_ This is a very powerful +description; but a critick of great refinement would say, that it +conveys rather _horrour_ than _terrour_. An Indian, dressed as he goes +to war, may bring company together; but if he carries the scalping-knife +and tom-axe, there are many true Britons that will never be persuaded to +see him but through a grate. + +It has been remarked by the severer judges, that the salutary sorrow of +tragick scenes is too soon effaced by the merriment of the epilogue; the +same inconvenience arises from the improper disposition of +advertisements. The noblest objects may be so associated as to be made +ridiculous. The camel and dromedary themselves might have lost much of +their dignity between _the true flower of mustard_ and the _original +Daffy's elixir_; and I could not but feel some indignation when I found +this illustrious Indian warrior immediately succeeded by _a fresh parcel +of Dublin butter_. + +The trade of advertising is now so near to perfection, that it is not +easy to propose any improvement. But as every art ought to be exercised +in due subordination to the publick good, I cannot but propose it as a +moral question to these masters of the publick ear, Whether they do not +sometimes play too wantonly with our passions, as when the registrar of +lottery-tickets invites us to his shop by an account of the prize which +he sold last year; and whether the advertising controvertists do not +indulge asperity of language without any adequate provocation; as in the +dispute about _straps for razors_, now happily subsided, and in the +altercation which at present subsists concerning _eau de luce_? + +In an advertisement it is allowed to every man to speak well of himself, +but I know not why he should assume the privilege of censuring his +neighbour. He may proclaim his own virtue or skill, but ought not to +exclude others from the same pretensions. + +Every man that advertises his own excellence should write with some +consciousness of a character which dares to call the attention of the +publick. He should remember that his name is to stand in the same paper +with those of the king of Prussia and the emperour of Germany, and +endeavour to make himself worthy of such association. + +Some regard is likewise to be paid to posterity. There are men of +diligence and curiosity who treasure up the papers of the day merely +because others neglect them, and in time they will be scarce. When these +collections shall be read in another century, how will numberless +contradictions be reconciled? and how shall fame be possibly distributed +among the tailors and bodice-makers of the present age? + +Surely these things deserve consideration. It is enough for me to have +hinted my desire that these abuses may be rectified; but such is the +state of nature, that what all have the right of doing, many will +attempt without sufficient care or due qualifications[1]. + +[1] A history of newspapers, more diffuse than the chronological series + in Nichols' Literary Anecdotes, Vol. iv. is desirable. See Preface. + + + + +No. 41. SATURDAY, JANUARY 27, 1759. + +The following letter relates to an affliction perhaps not necessary to +be imparted to the publick; but I could not persuade myself to suppress +it, because I think, I know the sentiments to be sincere, and I feel no +disposition to provide for this day any other entertainment. + + At, tu quisquis eris, miseri qui cruda poetae + Credideris fletu funera digna tuo, + Haec postrema tibi sit flendi causa, fluatque + Lenis inoffenso vitaque morsque gradu. OVID. + +Mr. Idler, + +Notwithstanding the warnings of philosophers, and the daily examples of +losses and misfortunes which life forces upon our observation, such is +the absorption of our thoughts in the business of the present day, such +the resignation of our reason to empty hopes of future felicity, or such +our unwillingness to foresee what we dread, that every calamity comes +suddenly upon us, and not only presses us as a burden, but crushes as a +blow. + +There are evils which happen out of the common course of nature, against +which it is no reproach not to be provided. A flash of lightning +intercepts the traveller in his way. The concussion of an earthquake +heaps the ruins of cities upon their inhabitants. But other miseries +time brings, though silently yet visibly, forward by its even lapse, +which yet approach us unseen, because we turn our eyes away, and seize +us unresisted, because we could not arm ourselves against them but by +setting them before us. + +That it is vain to shrink from what cannot be avoided, and to hide that +from ourselves which must some time be found, is a truth which we all +know, but which all neglect, and, perhaps, none more than the +speculative reasoner, whose thoughts are always from home, whose eye +wanders over life, whose fancy dances after meteors of happiness kindled +by itself, and who examines every thing rather than his own state. + +Nothing is more evident than that the decays of age must terminate in +death; yet there is no man, says Tully, who does not believe that he may +yet live another year; and there is none who does not, upon the same +principle, hope another year for his parent or his friend: but the +fallacy will be in time detected; the last year, the last day, must +come. It has come, and is past. The life which made my own life pleasant +is at an end, and the gates of death are shut upon my prospects. + +The loss of a friend upon whom the heart was fixed, to whom every wish +and endeavour tended, is a state of dreary desolation, in which the mind +looks abroad impatient of itself, and finds nothing but emptiness and +horrour. The blameless life, the artless tenderness, the pious +simplicity, the modest resignation, the patient sickness, and the quiet +death, are remembered only to add value to the loss, to aggravate regret +for what cannot be amended, to deepen sorrow for what cannot be +recalled. + +These are the calamities by which Providence gradually disengages us +from the love of life. Other evils fortitude may repel, or hope may +mitigate; but irreparable privation leaves nothing to exercise +resolution or flatter expectation. The dead cannot return, and nothing +is left us here but languishment and grief. + +Yet such is the course of nature, that whoever lives long must outlive +those whom he loves and honours. Such is the condition of our present +existence, that life must one time lose its associations, and every +inhabitant of the earth must walk downward to the grave alone and +unregarded, without any partner of his joy or grief, without any +interested witness of his misfortunes or success. + +Misfortune, indeed, he may yet feel; for where is the bottom of the +misery of man? But what is success to him that has none to enjoy it? +Happiness is not found in self-contemplation; it is perceived only when +it is reflected from another. + +We know little of the state of departed souls, because such knowledge is +not necessary to a good life. Reason deserts us at the brink of the +grave, and can give no further intelligence. Revelation is not wholly +silent. "There is joy in the angels of Heaven over one sinner that +repenteth;" and, surely, this joy is not incommunicable to souls +disentangled from the body, and made like angels. + +Let hope therefore dictate, what revelation does not confute, that the +union of souls may still remain; and that we who are struggling with +sin, sorrow, and infirmities, may have our part in the attention and +kindness of those who have finished their course, and are now receiving +their reward. + +These are the great occasions which force the mind to take refuge in +religion: when we have no help in ourselves, what can remain but that we +look up to a higher and a greater Power? and to what hope may we not +raise our eyes and hearts, when we consider that the greatest POWER is +the BEST? + +Surely there is no man who, thus afflicted, does not seek succour in the +_gospel_, which has brought _life and immortality to light_. The +precepts of Epicurus, who teaches us to endure what the laws of the +universe make necessary, may silence, but not content us. The dictates +of Zeno, who commands us to look with indifference on external things, +may dispose us to conceal our sorrow, but cannot assuage it. Real +alleviation of the loss of friends, and rational tranquillity, in the +prospect of our own dissolution, can be received only from the promises +of Him in whose hands are life and death, and from the assurance of +another and better state, in which all tears will be wiped from the +eyes, and the whole soul shall be filled with joy. Philosophy may infuse +stubbornness, but Religion only can give patience[1]. + +I am, &c. + +[1] See Preface. + + + + +No. 42. SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 1759. + +The subject of the following letter is not wholly unmentioned by the +Rambler. The Spectator has also a letter containing a case not much +different. I hope my correspondent's performance is more an effort of +genius, than an effusion of the passions; and that she hath rather +attempted to paint some possible distress, than really feels the evils +which she has described. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Sir, + +There is a cause of misery, which, though certainly known both to you +and your predecessors, has been little taken notice of in your papers; I +mean the snares that the bad behaviour of parents extends over the paths +of life which their children are to tread after them; and as I make no +doubt but the Idler holds the shield for virtue, as well as the glass +for folly; that he will employ his leisure hours as much to his own +satisfaction in warning his readers against a danger, as in laughing +them out of a fashion: for this reason I am tempted to ask admittance +for my story in your paper, though it has nothing to recommend it but +truth, and the honest wish of warning others to shun the track which, I +am afraid, may lead me at last to ruin. + +I am the child of a father, who, having always lived in one spot in the +country where he was born, and having had no genteel education himself, +thought no qualifications in the world desirable but as they led up to +fortune, and no learning necessary to happiness but such as might most +effectually teach me to make the best market of myself. I was +unfortunately born a beauty, to a full sense of which my father took +care to flatter me; and having, when very young, put me to a school in +the country, afterwards transplanted me to another in town, at the +instigation of his friends, where his ill-judged fondness let me remain +no longer than to learn just enough experience to convince me of the +sordidness of his views, to give me an idea of perfections which my +present situation will never suffer me to reach, and to teach me +sufficient morals to dare to despise what is bad, though it be in a +father. + +Thus equipped (as he thought completely) for life, I was carried back +into the country, and lived with him and my mother in a small village, +within a few miles of the county town; where I mixed, at first with +reluctance, among company which, though I never despised, I could not +approve, as they were brought up with other inclinations, and narrower +views than my own. My father took great pains to show me every where, +both at his own house, and at such publick diversions as the country +afforded: he frequently told the people all he had was for his daughter; +took care to repeat the civilities I had received from all his friends +in London; told how much I was admired, and all his little ambition +could suggest to set me in a stronger light. + +Thus have I continued tricked out for sale, as I may call it, and +doomed, by parental authority, to a state little better than that of +prostitution. I look on myself as growing cheaper every hour, and am +losing all that honest pride, that modest confidence, in which the +virgin dignity consists. Nor does my misfortune stop here: though many +would be too generous to impute the follies of a father to a child whose +heart has set her above them; yet I am afraid the most charitable of +them will hardly think it possible for me to be a daily spectatress of +his vices without tacitly allowing them, and at last consenting to them, +as the eye of the frightened infant is, by degrees, reconciled to the +darkness of which at first it was afraid. + +It is a common opinion, he himself must very well know, that vices, like +diseases, are often hereditary; and that the property of the one is to +infect the manners, as the other poisons the springs of life. + +Yet this, though bad, is not the worst; my father deceives himself in +the hopes of the very child he has brought into the world; he suffers +his house to be the seat of drunkenness, riot, and irreligion, who +seduces, almost in my sight, the menial servant, converses with the +prostitute, and corrupts the wife! Thus I, who from my earliest dawn of +reason was taught to think that at my approach every eye sparkled with +pleasure, or was dejected as conscious of superior charms, am excluded +from society, through fear lest I should partake, if not of my father's +crimes, at least of his reproach. Is a parent, who is so little +solicitous for the welfare of a child, better than a pirate who turns a +wretch adrift in a boat at sea, without a star to steer by, or an anchor +to hold it fast? Am I not to lay all my miseries at those doors which +ought to have been opened only for my protection? And if doomed to add +at last one more to the number of those wretches whom neither the world +nor its law befriends, may I not justly say that I have been awed by a +parent into ruin? But though a parent's power is screened from insult +and violation by the very words of Heaven, yet surely no laws, divine or +human, forbid me to remove myself from the malignant shade of a plant +that poisons all around it, blasts the bloom of youth, checks its +improvements, and makes all its flowrets fade; but to whom can the +wretched, can the dependant fly? For me to fly a father's house, is to +be a beggar: I have only one comfort amidst my anxieties, a pious +relation, who bids me appeal to Heaven for a witness to my just +intentions, fly as a deserted wretch to its protection; and, being asked +who my father is, point, like the ancient philosopher, with my finger to +the heavens. + +The hope in which I write this is, that you will give it a place in your +paper; and, as your essays sometimes find their way into the country, +that my father may read my story there; and, if not for his own sake, +yet for mine, spare to perpetuate that worst of calamities to me, the +loss of character, from which all his dissimulation has not been able to +rescue himself. Tell the world, Sir, that it is possible for virtue to +keep its throne unshaken without any other guard than itself; that it is +possible to maintain that purity of thought so necessary to the +completion of human excellence, even in the midst of temptations; when +they have no friend within, nor are assisted by the voluntary indulgence +of vicious thoughts. + +If the insertion of a story like this does not break in on the plan of +your paper, you have it in your power to be a better friend than her +father to + +PERDITA[1]. + +[1]From an unknown correspondent. + + + + +No. 43. SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 10, 1759. + +The natural advantages which arise from the position of the earth which +we inhabit with respect to the other planets, afford much employment to +mathematical speculation; by which it has been discovered, that no other +conformation of the system could have given such commodious +distributions of light and heat, or imparted fertility and pleasure to +so great a part of a revolving sphere. + +It may be, perhaps, observed by the moralist, with equal reason, that +our globe seems particularly fitted for the residence of a being, placed +here only for a short time, whose task is to advance himself to a higher +and happier state of existence, by unremitted vigilance of caution, and +activity of virtue. + +The duties required of man are such as human nature does not willingly +perform, and such as those are inclined to delay who yet intend some +time to fulfil them. It was, therefore, necessary that this universal +reluctance should be counteracted, and the drowsiness of hesitation +wakened into resolve; that the danger of procrastination should he +always in view, and the fallacies of security be hourly detected. + +To this end all the appearances of nature uniformly conspire. Whatever +we see on every side reminds us of the lapse of time and the flux of +life. The day and night succeed each other, the rotation of seasons +diversifies the year, the sun rises, attains the meridian, declines, and +sets; and the moon every night changes its form. + +The day has been considered as an image of the year, and the year as the +representation of life. The morning answers to the spring, and the +spring to childhood and youth; the noon corresponds to the summer, and +the summer to the strength of manhood. The evening is an emblem of +autumn, and autumn of declining life. The night with its silence and +darkness shows the winter, in which all the powers of vegetation are +benumbed; and the winter points out the time when life shall cease, with +its hopes and pleasures. + +He that is carried forward, however swiftly, by a motion equable and +easy, perceives not the change of place but by the variation of objects. +If the wheel of life, which rolls thus silently along, passed on through +undistinguishable uniformity, we should never mark its approaches to the +end of the course. If one hour were like another; if the passage of the +sun did not show that the day is wasting; if the change of seasons did +not impress upon us the flight of the year; quantities of duration equal +to days and years would glide unobserved. If the parts of time were not +variously coloured, we should never discern their departure or +succession, but should live thoughtless of the past, and careless of the +future, without will, and perhaps without power, to compute the periods +of life, or to compare the time which is already lost with that which +may probably remain. + +But the course of time is so visibly marked, that it is observed even by +the birds of passage, and by nations who have raised their minds very +little above animal instinct: there are human beings whose language does +not supply them with words by which they can number five, but I have +read of none, that have not names for day and night, for summer and +winter. + +Yet it is certain, that these admonitions of nature, however forcible, +however importunate, are too often vain; and that many who mark with +such accuracy the course of time, appear to have little sensibility of +the decline of life. Every man has something to do which he neglects; +every man has faults to conquer which he delays to combat. + +So little do we accustom ourselves to consider the effects of time, that +things necessary and certain often surprise us like unexpected +contingencies. We leave the beauty in her bloom, and, after an absence +of twenty years, wonder, at our return, to find her faded. We meet those +whom we left children, and can scarcely persuade ourselves to treat them +as men. The traveller visits in age those countries through which he +rambled in his youth, and hopes for merriment at the old place. The man +of business, wearied with unsatisfactory prosperity, retires to the town +of his nativity, and expects to play away the last years with the +companions of his childhood, and recover youth in the fields, where he +once was young. + +From this inattention, so general and so mischievous, let it be every +man's study to exempt himself. Let him that desires to see others happy +make haste to give, while his gift can be enjoyed, and remember that +every moment of delay takes away something from the value of his +benefaction. And let him, who purposes his own happiness, reflect, that +while he forms his purpose the day rolls on, and _the night cometh when +no man can work_. + + + + +No. 44. SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 17, 1759. + +Memory is, among the faculties of the human mind, that of which we make +the most frequent use, or rather that of which the agency is incessant, +or perpetual. Memory is the primary and fundamental power, without which +there could be no other intellectual operation. Judgment and +ratiocination suppose something already known, and draw their decisions +only from experience. Imagination selects ideas from the treasures of +remembrance, and produces novelty only by varied combinations. We do not +even form conjectures of distant, or anticipations of future events, but +by concluding what is possible from what is past. + +The two offices of memory are collection and distribution; by one images +are accumulated, and by the other produced for use. Collection is always +the employment of our first years; and distribution commonly that of our +advanced age. + +To collect and reposite the various forms of things, is far the most +pleasing part of mental occupation. We are naturally delighted with +novelty, and there is a time when all that we see is new. When first we +enter into the world, whithersoever we turn our eyes, they meet +knowledge with pleasure at her side; every diversity of nature pours +ideas in upon the soul; neither search nor labour are necessary; we have +nothing more to do than to open our eyes, and curiosity is gratified. + +Much of the pleasure which the first survey of the world affords, is +exhausted before we are conscious of our own felicity, or able to +compare our condition with some other possible state. We have, +therefore, few traces of the joy of our earliest discoveries; yet we all +remember a time, when nature had so many untasted gratifications, that +every excursion gave delight which, can now be found no longer, when the +noise of a torrent, the rustle of a wood, the song of birds, or the play +of lambs, had power to fill the attention, and suspend all perception of +the course of time. + +But these easy pleasures are soon at an end; we have seen in a very +little time so much, that we call out for new objects of observation, +and endeavour to find variety in books and life. But study is laborious, +and not always satisfactory; and conversation has its pains as well +pleasures; we are willing to learn, but not willing to be taught; we are +pained by ignorance, but pained yet more by another's knowledge. + +From the vexation of pupilage men commonly set themselves free about the +middle of life, by shutting up the avenues of intelligence, and +resolving to rest in their present state; and they, whose ardour of +inquiry continues longer, find themselves insensibly forsaken by their +instructors. As every man advances in life, the proportion between those +that are younger and that are older than himself is continually +changing; and he that has lived half a century finds few that do not +require from him that information which he once expected from those that +went before him. + +Then it is, that the magazines of memory are opened, and the stores of +accumulated knowledge are displayed by vanity or benevolence, or in +honest commerce of mutual interest. Every man wants others, and is, +therefore, glad when he is wanted by them. And as few men will endure +the labour of intense meditation without necessity, he that has learned +enough for his profit or his honour, seldom endeavours after further +acquisitions. + +The pleasure of recollecting speculative notions would not be much less +than that of gaining them, if they could be kept pure and unmingled with +the passages of life; but such is the necessary concatenation of our +thoughts, that good and evil are linked together, and no pleasure recurs +but associated with pain. Every revived idea reminds us of a time when +something was enjoyed that is now lost, when some hope was not yet +blasted, when some purpose had yet not languished into sluggishness or +indifference. + +Whether it be, that life has more vexations than comforts, or, what is +in the event just the same, that evil makes deeper impression than good, +it is certain that few can review the time past without heaviness of +heart. He remembers many calamities incurred by folly, many +opportunities lost by negligence. The shades of the dead rise up before +him; and he laments the companions of his youth, the partners of his +amusements, the assistants of his labours, whom the hand of death has +snatched away. + +When an offer was made to Themistocles of teaching him the art of +memory, he answered, that he would rather wish for the art of +forgetfulness. He felt his imagination haunted by phantoms of misery +which he was unable to suppress, and would gladly have calmed his +thoughts with some _oblivious antidote_. In this we all resemble one +another; the hero and the sage are, like vulgar mortals, overburdened by +the weight of life; all shrink from recollection, and all wish for an +art of forgetfulness[1]. + +[1] Read the sublime story of Sadak in search of the waters of oblivion + the Tales of the Genii. Those who have seen Martin's picture on the + subject, have failed almost to recognise the respective limits of + poetry and of painting. + + + + +No. 45. SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 24, 1759. + +There is in many minds a kind of vanity exerted to the disadvantage of +themselves; a desire to be praised for superior acuteness discovered +only in the degradation of their species, or censure of their country. + +Defamation is sufficiently copious. The general lampooner of mankind may +find long exercise for his zeal or wit, in the defects of nature, the +vexations of life, the follies of opinion, and the corruptions of +practice. But fiction is easier than discernment; and most of these +writers spare themselves the labour of inquiry, and exhaust their +virulence upon imaginary crimes, which, as they never existed, can never +be amended. + +That the painters find no encouragement among the English for many other +works than portraits, has been imputed to national selfishness. 'Tis +vain, says the satirist, to set before, any Englishman the scenes of +landscape, or the heroes of history; nature and antiquity are nothing in +his eye; he has no value but for himself, nor desires any copy but of +his own form. + +Whoever is delighted with his own picture must derive his pleasure from +the pleasure of another. Every man is always present to himself, and +has, therefore, little need of his own resemblance, nor can desire it, +but for the sake of those whom he loves, and by whom he hopes to be +remembered. This use of the art is a natural and reasonable consequence +of affection; and though, like other human actions, it is often +complicated with pride, yet even such pride is more laudable than that +by which palaces are covered with pictures, that, however excellent, +neither imply the owner's virtue, nor excite it. + +Genius is chiefly exerted in historical pictures; and the art of the +painter of portraits is often lost in the obscurity of his subject. But +it is in painting as in life; what is greatest is not always best. I +should grieve to see Reynolds transfer to heroes and to goddesses, to +empty splendour and to airy fiction, that art which is now employed in +diffusing friendship, in reviving tenderness, in quickening the +affections of the absent, and continuing the presence of the dead[1]. + +Yet in a nation great and opulent there is room, and ought to be +patronage, for an art like that of painting through all its diversities; +and it is to be wished, that the reward now offered for an historical +picture may excite an honest emulation, and give beginning to an English +school. + +It is not very easy to find an action or event that can be efficaciously +represented by a painter. + +He must have an action not successive but instantaneous; for the time of +a picture is a single moment. For this reason, the death of Hercules +cannot well be painted, though, at the first view, it flatters the +imagination with very glittering ideas: the gloomy mountain, overhanging +the sea, and covered with trees, some bending to the wind, and some torn +from their roots by the raging hero; the violence with which he rends +from his shoulders the envenomed garment; the propriety with which his +muscular nakedness may be displayed; the death of Lycas whirled from the +promontory; the gigantick presence of Philoctetes; the blaze of the +fatal pile, which the deities behold with grief and terrour from the +sky. + +All these images fill the mind, but will not compose a picture, because +they cannot be united in a single moment[2]. Hercules must have rent his +flesh at one time, and tossed Lycas into the air at another; he must +first tear up the trees, and then lie down upon the pile. + +The action must be circumstantial and distinct. There is a passage in +the Iliad which cannot be read without strong emotions. A Trojan prince, +seized by Achilles in the battle, falls at his feet, and in moving terms +supplicates for life. "How can a wretch like thee," says the haughty +Greek, "intreat to live, when thou knowest that the time must come when +Achilles is to die?" This cannot be painted, because no peculiarity of +attitude or disposition can so supply the place of language as to +impress the sentiment. + +The event painted must be such as excites passion, and different +passions in the several actors, or a tumult of contending passions in +the chief. + +Perhaps the discovery of Ulysses by his nurse is of this kind. The +surprise of the nurse mingled with joy; that of Ulysses checked by +prudence, and clouded by solicitude; and the distinctness of the action +by which the scar is found; all concur to complete the subject. But the +picture, having only two figures, will want variety. + +A much nobler assemblage may be furnished by the death of Epaminondas. +The mixture of gladness and grief in the face of the messenger who +brings his dying general an account of the victory; the various passions +of the attendants; the sublimity of composure in the hero, while the +dart is by his own command drawn from his side, and the faint gleam of +satisfaction that diffuses itself over the languor of death; are worthy +of that pencil which yet I do not wish to see employed upon them. + +If the design were not too multifarious and extensive, I should wish +that our painters would attempt the dissolution of the parliament by +Cromwell[3]. The point of time may be chosen when Cromwell, looking +round the Pandaemonium with contempt, ordered the bauble to be taken +away; and Harrison laid hands on the Speaker to drag him from the chair. + +The various appearances which rage, and terrour, and astonishment, and +guilt, might exhibit in the faces of that hateful assembly, of whom the +principal persons may be faithfully drawn from portraits or prints; the +irresolute repugnance of some, the hypocritical submissions of others, +the ferocious insolence of Cromwell, the rugged brutality of Harrison, +and the general trepidation of fear and wickedness, would, if some +proper disposition could be contrived, make a picture of unexampled +variety, and irresistible instruction. + +[1] Some judicious remarks on portrait painting may be found in + Chalmers' Preface to Idler, Brit. Ess. 33. + + The difference between the French and English schools, in this + department of the Art, well proves that mind has scope for its + powers in portrait, and that genius alone can so generalize the + details "as to identify the individual man with the dignity of his + thinking powers." + +[2] Has that picture, which is considered the finest in the world, the + transfiguration, this requisite? Could any human eye, at one and the + same moment, have beheld the apostles baffled with the stubborn + spirit which they had not faith to quell, and the glories on the + Mount? + +[3] This subject has now been most successfully handled by West. Hall's + exquisite engraving has rendered the picture familiar. + + + + +No. 40. SATURDAY, MARCH 3, 1759. + + _Fugit ad salices, sed, se cupit ante videri_. VIRGIL. + +Mr. Idler, + +I am encouraged, by the notice you have taken of Betty Broom, to +represent the miseries which I suffer from a species of tyranny, which, +I believe, is not very uncommon, though perhaps it may have escaped the +observation of those who converse little with fine ladies, or see them +only in their publick characters. + +To this method of venting my vexation I am the more inclined, because if +I do not complain to you, I must burst in silence; for my mistress has +teased me and teased me till I can hold no longer, and yet I must not +tell her of her tricks. The girls that live in common services can +quarrel, and give warning, and find other places; but we that live with +great ladies, if we once offend them, have, nothing left but to return +into the country. + +I am waiting-maid to a lady who keeps the best company, and is seen at +every place of fashionable resort. I am envied by all the maids in the +square, for few countesses leave off so many clothes as my mistress, and +nobody shares with me: so that I supply two families in the country with +finery for the assizes and horse-races, besides what I wear myself. The +steward and housekeeper have joined against me to procure my removal, +that they may advance a relation of their own; but their designs are +found out by my lady, who says I need not fear them, for she will never +have dowdies about her. + +You would think, Mr. Idler, like others, that I am very happy, and may +well be contented with my lot. But I will tell you. My lady has an odd +humour. She never orders any thing in direct words, for she loves a +sharp girl that can take a hint. + +I would not have you suspect that she has any thing to hint which she is +ashamed to speak at length; for none can have greater purity of +sentiment, or rectitude of intention. She has nothing to hide, yet +nothing will she tell. She always gives her directions obliquely and +allusively, by the mention of something relative or consequential, +without any other purpose than to exercise my acuteness and her own. + +It is impossible to give a notion of this style otherwise than by +examples. One night, when she had sat writing letters till it was time +to be dressed, _Molly_, said she, _the Ladies are all to be at Court +to-night in white aprons_. When she means that I should send to order the +chair, she says, _I think the streets are clean, I may venture to walk_. +When she would have something put into its place, she bids me _lay it on +the floor_. If she would have me snuff the candles, she asks _whether I +think her eyes are like a cat's_? If she thinks her chocolate delayed, +she talks of _the benefit of abstinence_. If any needle-work is +forgotten, she supposes _that I have heard of the lady who died by +pricking her finger_. + +She always imagines that I can recall every thing past from a single +word. If she wants her head from the milliner, she only says, _Molly, +you know Mrs. Tape_. If she would have the mantua-maker sent for, she +remarks _that Mr. Taffety, the mercer, was here last week_. She ordered, +a fortnight ago, that the first time she was abroad all day I should +choose her a new set of coffee-cups at the china-shop: of this she +reminded me yesterday, as she was going down stairs, by saying, _You +can't find your way now to Pall-mall_. + +All this would never vex me, if, by increasing my trouble, she spared +her own; but, dear Mr. Idler, is it not as easy to say _coffee-cups_, as +_Pall-mall_? and to tell me in plain words what I am to do, and when it +is to be done, as to torment her own head with the labour of finding +hints, and mine with that of understanding them? + +When first I came to this lady, I had nothing like the learning that I +have now; for she has many books, and I have much time to read; so that +of late I seldom have missed her meaning: but when she first took me I +was an ignorant girl; and she, who, as is very common, confounded want +of knowledge with want of understanding, began once to despair of +bringing me to any thing, because, when I came into her chamber at the +call of her bell, she asked me, _Whether we lived in Zembla_; and I did +not guess the meaning of her inquiry, but modestly answered, that _I +could not tell_. She had happened to ring once when I did not hear her, +and meant to put me in mind of that country where sounds are said to be +congealed by the frost. + +Another time, as I was dressing her head, she began to talk on a sudden +of _Medusa_, and _snakes_, and _men turned into stone, and maids that, +if they were not watched, would let their mistresses be Gorgons_. I +looked round me half frightened, and quite bewildered; till at last, +finding that her literature was thrown away upon me, she bid me with +great vehemence, reach the curling-irons. + +It is not without some indignation, Mr. Idler, that I discover, in these +artifices of vexation, something worse than foppery or caprice; a mean +delight in superiority, which knows itself in no danger of reproof or +opposition; a cruel pleasure in seeing the perplexity of a mind obliged +to find what is studiously concealed, and a mean indulgence of petty +malevolence, in the sharp censure of involuntary, and very often of +inevitable, failings. When, beyond her expectation, I hit upon her +meaning, I can perceive a sudden cloud of disappointment spread over her +face; and have sometimes been afraid, lest I should lose her favour by +understanding her when she means to puzzle me. + +This day, however, she has conquered my sagacity. When she went out of +her dressing-room, she said nothing, but, _Molly, you know_, and +hastened to her chariot. What I am to know is yet a secret; but if I do +not know before she comes back, what I yet have no means of discovering, +she will make my dullness a pretence for a fortnight's ill humour, treat +me as a creature devoid of the faculties necessary to the common duties +of life, and perhaps give the next gown to the housekeeper. + +I am, Sir, + +Your humble servant, + +MOLLY QUICK. + + + + +No. 47. SATURDAY, MARCH 10, 1759. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Mr. Idler, + +I am the unfortunate wife of a city wit, and cannot but think that my +case may deserve equal compassion with any of those which have been +represented in your paper. + +I married my husband within three months after the expiration of his +apprenticeship; we put our money together, and furnished a large and +splendid shop, in which he was for five years and a half diligent and +civil. The notice which curiosity or kindness commonly bestows on +beginners, was continued by confidence and esteem; one customer, pleased +with his treatment and his bargain, recommended another; and we were +busy behind the counter from morning to night. + +Thus every day increased our wealth and our reputation. My husband was +often invited to dinner openly on the Exchange by hundred thousand +pounds men; and whenever I went to any of the halls, the wives of the +aldermen made me low courtesies. We always took up our notes before the +day, and made all considerable payments by draughts upon our banker. + +You will easily believe that I was well enough pleased with my +condition; for what happiness can be greater than that of growing every +day richer and richer? I will not deny, that, imagining myself likely to +be in a short time the sheriff's lady, I broke off my acquaintance with +some of my neighbours; and advised my husband to keep good company, and +not to be seen with men that were worth nothing. + +In time he found that ale disagreed with his constitution, and went +every night to drink his pint at a tavern, where he met with a set of +criticks, who disputed upon the merit of the different theatrical +performers. By these idle fellows he was taken to the play, which at +first he did not seem much to heed; for he owned, that he very seldom +knew what they were doing, and that, while his companions would let him +alone, he was commonly thinking on his last bargain. + +Having once gone, however, he went again and again, though I often told +him that three shillings were thrown away: at last he grew uneasy if he +missed a night, and importuned me to go with him. I went to a tragedy, +which they called Macbeth; and, when I came home, told him, that I could +not bear to see men and women make themselves such fools, by pretending +to be witches and ghosts, generals and kings, and to walk in their sleep +when they were as much awake, as those that looked at them. He told me +that I must get higher notions, and that a play was the most rational of +all entertainments, and most proper to relax the mind after the business +of the day. + +By degrees he gained knowledge of some of the players: and, when the +play was over, very frequently treated them with suppers; for which he +was admitted to stand behind the scenes. + +He soon began to lose some of his morning hours in the same folly, and +was for one winter very diligent in his attendance on the rehearsals; +but of this species of idleness he grew weary, and said, that the play +was nothing without the company. + +His ardour for the diversion of the evening increased; he bought a +sword, and paid five shillings a night to sit in the boxes; he went +sometimes into a place which he calls the green-room, where all the wits +of the age assemble and, when he had been there, could do nothing, for +two or three days, but repeat their jests, or tell their disputes. + +He has now lost his regard for every thing but the playhouse; he +invites, three times a week, one or other to drink claret, and talk of +the drama. His first care in the morning is to read the play-bills; and, +if he remembers any lines of the tragedy which is to be represented, +walks about the shop, repeating them so loud, and with such strange +gestures, that the passengers gather round the door. + +His greatest pleasure, when I married him, was to hear the situation of +his shop commended, and to be told how many estates have been got in it +by the same trade; but of late he grows peevish at any mention of +business, and delights in nothing so much as to be told that he speaks +like Mossop. + +Among his new associates he has learned another language, and speaks in +such a strain that his neighbours cannot understand him. If a customer +talks longer than he is willing to hear, he will complain that he has +been excruciated with unmeaning verbosity; he laughs at the letters of +his friends for their tameness of expression, and often declares himself +weary of attending to the minutiae of a shop. + +It is well for me that I know how to keep a book, for of late he is +scarcely ever in the way. Since one of his friends told him that he had +a genius for tragick poetry, he has locked himself in an upper room six +or seven hours a day; and, when I carry him any paper to be read or +signed, I hear him talking vehemently to himself, sometimes of love and +beauty, sometimes of friendship and virtue, but more frequently of +liberty and his country. + +I would gladly, Mr. Idler, be informed what to think of a shopkeeper, +who is incessantly talking about liberty; a word, which, since his +acquaintance with polite life, my husband has always in his mouth: he +is, on all occasions, afraid of our liberty, and declares his resolution +to hazard all for liberty. What can the man mean? I am sure he has +liberty enough; it were better for him and me if his liberty was +lessened. + +He has a friend, whom he calls a critick, that comes twice a week to +read what he is writing. This critick tells him that his piece is a +little irregular, but that some detached scenes will shine prodigiously, +and that in the character of Bombulus he is wonderfully great. My +scribbler then squeezes his hand, calls him the best of friends, thanks +him for his sincerity, and tells him that he hates to be flattered. I +have reason to believe that he seldom parts with his dear friend without +lending him two guineas, and am afraid that he gave bail for him three +days ago. + +By this course of life our credit as traders is lessened; and I cannot +forbear to suspect, that my husband's honour as a wit is not much +advanced, for he seems to be always the lowest of the company, and is +afraid to tell his opinion till the rest have spoken. When he was behind +his counter, he used to be brisk, active, and jocular, like a man that +knew what he was doing, and did not fear to look another in the face; +but among wits and criticks he is timorous and awkward, and hangs down +his head at his own table. Dear Mr. Idler, persuade him, if you can, to +return once more to his native element. Tell him, that wit will never +make him rich, but that there are places where riches will always make a +wit. + +I am, Sir, &c. + +DEBORAH GINGER. + + + + +No. 48. SATURDAY, MARCH 17, 1759. + +There is no kind of idleness, by which we are so easily seduced, as that +which dignifies itself by the appearance of business; and, by making the +loiterer imagine that he has something to do which must not be +neglected, keeps him in perpetual agitation, and hurries him rapidly +from place to place. + +He that sits still, or reposes himself upon a couch, no more deceives +himself than he deceives others; he knows that he is doing nothing, and +has no other solace of his insignificance than the resolution, which the +lazy hourly make, of changing his mode of life. + +To do nothing every man is ashamed; and to do much almost every man is +unwilling or afraid. Innumerable expedients have, therefore, been +invented to produce motion without labour, and employment without +solicitude. The greater part of those, whom the kindness of fortune has +left to their own direction, and whom want does not keep chained to the +counter or the plough, play throughout life with the shadows of +business, and know not at last what they have been doing. + +These imitators of action are of all denominations. Some are seen at +every auction without intention to purchase; others appear punctually at +the Exchange, though they are known there only by their faces: some are +always making parties to visit collections for which they have no taste; +and some neglect every pleasure and every duty to hear questions, in +which they have no interest, debated in parliament. + +These men never appear more ridiculous than in the distress which they +imagine themselves to feel from some accidental interruption of those +empty pursuits. A tiger newly imprisoned is indeed more formidable, but +not more angry, than Jack Tulip, withheld from a florist's feast, or Tom +Distich, hindered from seeing the first representation of a play. + +As political affairs are the highest and most extensive of temporal +concerns, the mimick of a politician is more busy and important than any +other trifler. Monsieur le Noir, a man who, without property or +importance in any corner of the earth, has, in the present confusion of +the world, declared himself a steady adherent to the French, is made +miserable by a wind that keeps back the packet-boat, and still more +miserable by every account of a Malouin privateer caught in his cruise; +he knows well that nothing can be done or said by him which can produce +any effect but that of laughter, that he can neither hasten nor retard +good or evil, that his joys and sorrows have scarcely any partakers; yet +such is his zeal, and such his curiosity, that he would run barefooted +to Gravesend, for the sake of knowing first that the English had lost a +tender, and would ride out to meet every mail from the continent, if he +might be permitted to open it. + +Learning is generally confessed to be desirable, and there are some who +fancy themselves always busy in acquiring it. Of these ambulatory +students, one of the most busy is my friend Tom Restless. + +Tom has long had a mind to be a man of knowledge, but he does not care +to spend much time among authors; for he is of opinion that few books +deserve the labour of perusal, that they give the mind an unfashionable +cast, and destroy that freedom of thought, and easiness of manners, +indispensably requisite to acceptance in the world. Tom has, therefore, +found another way to wisdom. When he rises he goes into a coffee-house, +where he creeps so near to men whom he takes to be reasoners, as to hear +their discourse, and endeavours to remember something which, when it has +been strained through Tom's head, is so near to nothing, that what it +once was cannot be discovered. This he carries round from friend to +friend through a circle of visits, till, hearing what each says upon the +question, he becomes able at dinner to say a little himself; and, as +every great genius relaxes himself among his inferiors, meets with some +who wonder how so young a man can talk so wisely. + +At night he has a new feast prepared for his intellects; he always runs +to a disputing society, or a speaking club, where he half hears what, if +he had heard the whole, be would but half understand; goes home pleased +with the consciousness of a day well spent, lies down full of ideas, and +rises in the morning empty as before. + + + + +No. 49. SATURDAY, MARCH 24, 1759. + +I supped three nights ago with my friend Will Marvel. His affairs +obliged him lately to take a journey into Devonshire, from which he has +just returned. He knows me to be a very patient hearer, and was glad of +my company, as it gave him an opportunity of disburdening himself, by a +minute relation of the casualties of his expedition. + +Will is not one of those who go out and return with nothing to tell. He +has a story of his travels, which will strike a home-bred citizen with +horrour, and has in ten days suffered so often the extremes of terrour +and joy, that he is in doubt whether he shall ever again expose either +his body or mind to such danger and fatigue. + +When he left London the morning was bright, and a fair day was promised. +But Will is born to struggle with difficulties. That happened to him, +which has sometimes, perhaps, happened to others. Before he had gone +more than ten miles, it began to rain. What course was to be taken? His +soul disdained to turn back. He did what the King of Prussia might have +done; he flapped his hat, buttoned up his cape, and went forwards, +fortifying his mind by the stoical consolation, that whatever is violent +will be short. + +His constancy was not long tried; at the distance of about half a mile +he saw an inn, which he entered wet and weary, and found civil treatment +and proper refreshment. After a respite of about two hours, he looked +abroad, and seeing the sky clear, called for his horse, and passed the +first stage without any other memorable accident. + +Will considered, that labour must be relieved by pleasure, and that the +strength which great undertakings require must be maintained by copious +nutriment; he, therefore, ordered himself an elegant supper, drank two +bottles of claret, and passed the beginning of the night in sound sleep; +but, waking before light, was forewarned of the troubles of the next +day, by a shower beating against his windows with such violence, as to +threaten the dissolution of nature. When he arose, he found what he +expected, that the country was under water. He joined himself, however, +to a company that was travelling the same way, and came safely to the +place of dinner, though every step of his horse dashed the mud into the +air. + +In the afternoon, having parted from his company, he set forward alone, +and passed many collections of water, of which it was impossible to +guess the depth, and which he now cannot review without some censure of +his own rashness; but what a man undertakes he must perform, and Marvel +hates a coward at his heart. + +Few that lie warm in their beds think what others undergo, who have, +perhaps, been as tenderly educated, and have as acute sensations as +themselves. My friend was now to lodge the second night almost fifty +miles from home, in a house which he never had seen before, among people +to whom he was totally a stranger, not knowing whether the next man he +should meet would prove good or bad; but seeing an inn of a good +appearance, he rode resolutely into the yard; and knowing that respect +is often paid in proportion as it is claimed, delivered his injunctions +to the ostler with spirit, and entering the house, called vigorously +about him. + +On the third day up rose the sun and Mr. Marvel. His troubles and his +dangers were now such as he wishes no other man ever to encounter. The +ways were less frequented, and the country more thinly inhabited. He +rode many a lonely hour through mire and water, and met not a single +soul for two miles together, with whom he could exchange a word. He +cannot deny that, looking round upon the dreary region, and seeing +nothing but bleak fields and naked trees, hills obscured by fogs, and +flats covered with inundations, he did, for some time, suffer melancholy +to prevail upon him, and wished himself again safe at home. One comfort +he had, which was, to consider that none of his friends were in the same +distress, for whom, if they had been with him, he should have suffered +more than for himself; he could not forbear sometimes to consider how +happily the Idler is settled in an easier condition, who, surrounded +like him with terrours, could have done nothing but lie down and die. + +Amidst these reflections he came to a town, and found a dinner which +disposed him to more cheerful sentiments: but the joys of life are +short, and its miseries are long; he mounted and travelled fifteen miles +more through dirt and desolation. + +At last the sun set, and all the horrours of darkness came upon him. He +then repented the weak indulgence in which he had gratified himself at +noon with too long an interval of rest: yet he went forward along a path +which he could no longer see, sometimes rushing suddenly into water, and +sometimes incumbered with stiff clay, ignorant whither he was going, and +uncertain whether his next step might not be the last. + +In this dismal gloom of nocturnal peregrination his horse unexpectedly +stood still. Marvel had heard many relations of the instinct of horses, +and was in doubt what danger might be at hand. Sometimes he fancied that +he was on the bank of a river still and deep, and sometimes that a dead +body lay across the track. He sat still awhile to recollect his +thoughts; and as he was about to alight and explore the darkness, out +stepped a man with a lantern, and opened the turnpike. He hired a guide +to the town, arrived in safety, and slept in quiet. + +The rest of his journey was nothing but danger. He climbed and descended +precipices on which vulgar mortals tremble to look; he passed marshes +like the _Serbonian bog, where armies whole have sunk_; he forded rivers +where the current roared like the Egre or the Severn; or ventured +himself on bridges that trembled under him, from which he looked down on +foaming whirlpools, or dreadful abysses; he wandered over houseless +heaths, amidst all the rage of the elements, with the snow driving in +his face, and the tempest howling in his ears. + +Such are the colours in which Marvel paints his adventures. He has +accustomed himself to sounding words and hyperbolical images, till he +has lost the power of true description. In a road, through which the +heaviest carriages pass without difficulty, and the post-boy every day +and night goes and returns, he meets with hardships like those which are +endured in Siberian deserts, and misses nothing of romantick danger but +a giant and a dragon. When his dreadful story is told in proper terms, +it is only that the way was dirty in winter, and that he experienced the +common vicissitudes of rain and sunshine. + + + + +No. 50. SATURDAY, MARCH 31, 1759. + +The character of Mr. Marvel has raised the merriment of some and the +contempt of others, who do not sufficiently consider how often they hear +and practise the same arts of exaggerated narration. + +There is not, perhaps, among the multitudes of all conditions that swarm +upon the earth, a single man who does not believe that he has something +extraordinary to relate of himself; and who does not, at one time or +other, summon the attention of his friends to the casualties of his +adventures and the vicissitudes of his fortune; casualties and +vicissitudes that happen alike in lives uniform and diversified; to the +commander of armies and the writer at a desk; to the sailor who resigns +himself to the wind and water, and the farmer whose longest journey is +to the market. + +In the present state of the world man may pass through Shakespeare's +seven stages of life, and meet nothing singular or wonderful. But such +is every man's attention to himself, that what is common and unheeded, +when it is only seen, becomes remarkable and peculiar when we happen to +feel it. + +It is well enough known to be according to the usual process of nature, +that men should sicken and recover, that some designs should succeed and +others miscarry, that friends should be separated and meet again, that +some should be made angry by endeavours to please them, and some be +pleased when no care has been used to gain their approbation; that men +and women should at first come together by chance, like each other so +well as to commence acquaintance, improve acquaintance into fondness, +increase or extinguish fondness by marriage, and have children of +different degrees of intellects and virtue, some of whom die before +their parents, and others survive them. + +Yet let any man tell his own story, and nothing of all this has ever +befallen him according to the common order of things; something has +always discriminated his case; some unusual concurrence of events has +appeared, which made him more happy or more miserable than other +mortals; for in pleasures or calamities, however common, every one has +comforts and afflictions of his own. + +It is certain that without some artificial augmentations, many of the +pleasures of life, and almost all its embellishments, would fall to the +ground. If no man was to express more delight than he felt, those who +felt most would raise little envy. If travellers were to describe the +most laboured performances of art with the same coldness as they survey +them, all expectations of happiness from change of place would cease. +The pictures of Raphael would hang without spectators, and the gardens +of Versailles might be inhabited by hermits. All the pleasure that is +received ends in an opportunity of splendid falsehood, in the power of +gaining notice by the display of beauties which the eye was weary of +beholding, and a history of happy moments, of which, in reality, the +most happy was the last. + +The ambition of superior sensibility and superior eloquence disposes the +lovers of arts to receive rapture at one time, and communicate it at +another; and each labours first to impose upon himself, and then to +propagate the imposture. + +Pain is less subject than pleasure to caprices of expression. The +torments of disease, and the grief for irremediable misfortunes, +sometimes are such as no words can declare, and can only be signified by +groans, or sobs, or inarticulate ejaculations. Man has from nature a +mode of utterance peculiar to pain, but he has none peculiar to +pleasure, because he never has pleasure but in such degrees as the +ordinary use of language may equal or surpass. + +It is nevertheless certain, that many pains, as well as pleasures, are +heightened by rhetorical affectation, and that the picture is, for the +most part, bigger than the life. + +When we describe our sensations of another's sorrows, either in friendly +or ceremonious condolence, the customs of the world scarcely admit of +rigid veracity. Perhaps, the fondest friendship would enrage oftener +than comfort, were the tongue on such occasions faithfully to represent +the sentiments of the heart; and I think the strictest moralists allow +forms of address to be used without much regard to their literal +acceptation, when either respect or tenderness requires them, because +they are universally known to denote not the degree but the species of +our sentiments. + +But the same indulgence cannot be allowed to him who aggravates dangers +incurred, or sorrow endured, by himself, because he darkens the prospect +of futurity, and multiplies the pains of our condition by useless +terrour. Those who magnify their delights are less criminal deceivers, +yet they raise hopes which are sure to be disappointed. It would be +undoubtedly best, if we could see and hear every thing as it is, that +nothing might be too anxiously dreaded, or too ardently pursued. + + + + +No. 51. SATURDAY, APRIL 7, 1759. + +It has been commonly remarked, that eminent men are least eminent at +home, that bright characters lose much of their splendour at a nearer +view, and many, who fill the world with their fame, excite very little +reverence among those that surround them in their domestick privacies. + +To blame or suspect is easy and natural. When the fact is evident, and +the cause doubtful, some accusation is always engendered between +idleness and malignity. This disparity of general and familiar esteem +is, therefore, imputed to hidden vices, and to practices indulged in +secret, but carefully covered from the publick eye. + +Vice will indeed always produce contempt. The dignity of Alexander, +though nations fell prostrate before him, was certainly held in little +veneration by the partakers of his midnight revels, who had seen him, in +the madness of wine, murder his friend, or set fire to the Persian +palace at the instigation of a harlot; and it is well remembered among +us, that the avarice of Marlborough kept him in subjection to his wife, +while he was dreaded by France as her conqueror, and honoured by the +emperour as his deliverer. + +But though, where there is vice there must be want of reverence, it is +not reciprocally true, that where there is want of reverence there is +always vice. That awe which great actions or abilities impress will be +inevitably diminished by acquaintance, though nothing either mean or +criminal should be found. + +Of men, as of every thing else, we must judge according to our +knowledge. When we see of a hero only his battles, or of a writer only +his books, we have nothing to allay our ideas of their greatness. We +consider the one only as the guardian of his country, and the other only +as the instructor of mankind. We have neither opportunity nor motive to +examine the minuter parts of their lives, or the less apparent +peculiarities of their characters; we name them with habitual respect, +and forget, what we still continue to know, that they are men like other +mortals. + +But such is the constitution of the world, that much of life must be +spent in the same manner by the wise and the ignorant, the exalted and +the low. Men, however distinguished by external accidents or intrinsick +qualities, have all the same wants, the same pains, and, as far as the +senses are consulted, the same pleasures. The petty cares and petty +duties are the same in every station to every understanding, and every +hour brings some occasion on which we all sink to the common level. We +are all naked till we are dressed, and hungry till we are fed; and the +general's triumph, and sage's disputation, end, like the humble labours +of the smith or ploughman, in a dinner or in sleep. + +Those notions which are to be collected by reason, in opposition to the +senses, will seldom stand forward in the mind, but lie treasured in the +remoter repositories of memory, to be found only when they are sought. +Whatever any man may have written or done, his precepts or his valour +will scarcely overbalance the unimportant uniformity which runs through +his time. We do not easily consider him as great, whom our own eyes show +us to be little; nor labour to keep present to our thoughts the latent +excellencies of him, who shares with us all our weaknesses and many of +our follies; who, like us, is delighted with slight amusements, busied +with trifling employments, and disturbed by little vexations. + +Great powers cannot be exerted, but when great exigencies make them +necessary. Great exigencies can happen but seldom, and, therefore, those +qualities which have a claim to the veneration of mankind, lie hid, for +the most part, like subterranean treasures, over which the foot passes +as on common ground, till necessity breaks open the golden cavern. + +In the ancient celebration of victory, a slave was placed on the +triumphal car, by the side of the general, who reminded him by a short +sentence, that he was a man[1]. Whatever danger there might be lest a +leader, in his passage to the capitol, should forget the frailties of +his nature, there was surely no need of such an admonition; the +intoxication could not have continued long; he would have been at home +but a few hours, before some of his dependants would have forgot his +greatness, and shown him, that, notwithstanding his laurels, he was yet +a man. + +There are some who try to escape this domestick degradation, by +labouring to appear always wise or always great; but he that strives +against nature, will for ever strive in vain. To be grave of mien and +slow of utterrance; to look with solicitude and speak with hesitation, +is attainable at will; but the show of wisdom is ridiculous when there +is nothing to cause doubt, as that of valour where there is nothing to +be feared. + +A man who has duly considered the condition of his being, will +contentedly yield to the course of things; he will not pant for +distinction where distinction would imply no merit; but though on great +occasions he may wish to be greater than others, he will be satisfied in +common occurrences not to be less. + +[1] + --Sibi Consul + Ne placeat, curru servus portatur eodem. JUV. Sat. x. 41. + + + +No 52. SATURDAY, APRIL 14, 1759. + + _Responsare cupidinibus_.--HOR. Lib. ii. Sat. vii. 85. + +The practice of self-denial, or the forbearance of lawful pleasure, has +been considered by almost every nation, from the remotest ages, as the +highest exaltation of human virtue; and all have agreed to pay respect +and veneration to those who abstained from the delights of life, even +when they did not censure those who enjoy them. + +The general voice of mankind, civil and barbarous, confesses that the +mind and body are at variance, and that neither can be made happy by its +proper gratifications, but at the expense of the other; that a pampered +body will darken the mind, and an enlightened mind will macerate the +body. And none have failed to confer their esteem on those who prefer +intellect to sense, who control their lower by their higher faculties, +and forget the wants and desires of animal life for rational +disquisitions or pious contemplations. + +The earth has scarcely a country, so far advanced towards political +regularity as to divide the inhabitants into classes, where some orders +of men or women are not distinguished by voluntary severities, and where +the reputation of their sanctity is not increased in proportion to the +rigour of their rules, and the exactness of their performance. + +When an opinion to which there is no temptation of interest spreads +wide, and continues long, it may be reasonably presumed to have been +infused by nature or dictated by reason. It has been often observed that +the fictions of impostures and illusions of fancy, soon give way to time +and experience; and that nothing keeps its ground but truth, which gains +every day new influence by new confirmation. + +But truth, when it is reduced to practice, easily becomes subject to +caprice and imagination; and many particular acts will be wrong, though +their general principle be right. It cannot be denied that a just +conviction of the restraint necessary to be laid upon the appetites has +produced extravagant and unnatural modes of mortification, and +institutions, which, however favourably considered, will be found to +violate nature without promoting piety[1]. + +But the doctrine of self-denial is not weakened in itself by the errours +of those who misinterpret or misapply it; the encroachment of the +appetites upon the understanding is hourly perceived; and the state of +those, whom sensuality has enslaved, is known to be in the highest +degree despicable and wretched. + +The dread of such shameful captivity may justly raise alarms, and wisdom +will endeavour to keep danger at a distance. By timely caution and +suspicious vigilance those desires may be repressed, to which indulgence +would soon give absolute dominion; those enemies may be overcome, which, +when they have been a while accustomed to victory, can no longer be +resisted. + +Nothing is more fatal to happiness or virtue, than that confidence which +flatters us with an opinion of our own strength, and, by assuring us of +the power of retreat, precipitates us into hazard. Some may safely +venture farther than others into the regions of delight, lay themselves +more open to the golden shafts of pleasure, and advance nearer to the +residence of the Syrens; but he that is best armed with constancy and +reason is yet vulnerable in one part or other, and to every man there is +a point fixed, beyond which, if he passes, he will not easily return. It +is certainly most wise, as it is most safe, to stop before he touches +the utmost limit, since every step of advance will more and more entice +him to go forward, till he shall at last enter into the recesses of +voluptuousness, and sloth and despondency close the passage behind him. + +To deny early and inflexibly, is the only art of checking the +importunity of desire, and of preserving quiet and innocence. Innocent +gratifications must be sometimes withheld; he that complies with all +lawful desires will certainly lose his empire over himself, and, in +time, either submit his reason to his wishes, and think all his desires +lawful, or dismiss his reason as troublesome and intrusive, and resolve +to snatch what he may happen to wish, without inquiring about right and +wrong. + +No man, whose appetites are his masters, can perform the duties of his +nature with strictness and regularity; he that would be superior to +external influences must first become superior to his own passions. + +When the Roman general, sitting at supper with a plate of turnips before +him, was solicited by large presents to betray his trust, he asked the +messengers whether he that could sup on turnips was a man likely to sell +his own country. Upon him who has reduced his senses to obedience, +temptation has lost its power; he is able to attend impartially to +virtue, and execute her commands without hesitation. + +To set the mind above the appetites is the end of abstinence, which one +of the Fathers observes to be not a virtue, but the ground-work of +virtue. By forbearing to do what may innocently be done, we may add +hourly new vigour to resolution, and secure the power of resistance when +pleasure or interest shall lend their charms to guilt. + +[1] See Rambler 110 and Note. Read also the splendid passage on monastic + seclusion in Adventurer 127. The recluses of the Certosa and + Chartreuse forsook the world for abodes lordly as those of princes. + + + + +No. 53. SATURDAY, APRIL 21, 1759. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Sir, + +I have a wife that keeps good company. You know that the word _good_ +varies its meaning according to the value set upon different qualities +in different places. To be a good man in a college, is to be learned; in +a camp, to be brave; and in the city, to be rich. By good company in the +place which I have the misfortune to inhabit, we understand not only +those from whom any good can be learned, whether wisdom or virtue; or by +whom any good can be conferred, whether profit or reputation:--good +company is the company of those whose birth is high, and whose riches +are great; or of those whom the rich and noble admit to familiarity. + +I am a gentleman of a fortune by no means exuberant, but more than equal +to the wants of my family, and for some years equal to our desires. My +wife, who had never been accustomed to splendour, joined her endeavours +to mine in the superintendence of our economy; we lived in decent +plenty, and were not excluded from moderate pleasures. + +But slight causes produce great effects. All my happiness has been +destroyed by change of place: virtue is too often merely local; in some +situations the air diseases the body, and in others poisons the mind. +Being obliged to remove my habitation, I was led by my evil genius to a +convenient house in a street where many of the nobility reside. We had +scarcely ranged our furniture, and aired our rooms, when my wife began +to grow discontented, and to wonder what the neighbours would think, +when they saw so few chairs and chariots at her door. + +Her acquaintance, who came to see her from the quarter that we had left, +mortified her without design, by continual inquiries about the ladies +whose houses they viewed from our windows. She was ashamed to confess +that she had no intercourse with them, and sheltered her distress under +general answers, which always tended to raise suspicion that she knew +more than she would tell; but she was often reduced to difficulties, +when the course of talk introduced questions about the furniture or +ornaments of their houses, which, when she could get no intelligence, +she was forced to pass slightly over, as things which she saw so often +that she never minded them. + +To all these vexations she was resolved to put an end, and redoubled her +visits to those few of her friends who visited those who kept good +company; and, if ever she met a lady of quality, forced herself into +notice by respect and assiduity. Her advances were generally rejected; +and she heard them, as they went down stairs, talk how some creatures +put themselves forward. + +She was not discouraged, but crept forward from one to another; and, as +perseverance will do great things, sapped her way unperceived, till, +unexpectedly, she appeared at the card-table of lady Biddy Porpoise, a +lethargick virgin of seventy-six, whom all the families in the next +square visited very punctually when she was not at home. + +This was the first step of that elevation to which my wife has since +ascended. For five months she had no name in her mouth but that of lady +Biddy, who, let the world say what it would, had a fine understanding, +and such a command of her temper, that, whether she won or lost, she +slept over her cards. + +At lady Biddy's she met with lady Tawdry, whose favour she gained by +estimating her ear-rings, which were counterfeit, at twice the value of +real diamonds. When she had once entered two houses of distinction, she +was easily admitted into more, and in ten weeks had all her time +anticipated by parties and engagements. Every morning she is bespoke, in +the summer, for the gardens, in the winter, for a sale; every afternoon +she has visits to pay, and every night brings an inviolable appointment, +or an assembly in which the best company in the town are to appear. + +You will easily imagine that much of my domestick comfort is withdrawn. +I never see my wife but in the hurry of preparation, or the languor of +weariness. To dress and to undress is almost her whole business in +private, and the servants take advantage of her negligence to increase +expense. But I can supply her omissions by my own diligence, and should +not much regret this new course of life, if it did nothing more than +transfer to me the care of our accounts. The changes which it has made +are more vexatious. My wife has no longer the use of her understanding. +She has no rule of action but the fashion. She has no opinion but that +of the people of quality. She has no language but the dialect of her own +set of company. She hates and admires in humble imitation; and echoes +the words _charming_ and _detestable_ without consulting her own +perceptions. + +If for a few minutes we sit down together, she entertains me with the +repartees of lady Cackle, or the conversation of lord Whiffler and Miss +Quick, and wonders to find me receiving with indifference sayings which +put all the company into laughter. + +By her old friends she is no longer very willing to be seen, but she +must not rid herself of them all at once; and is sometimes surprised by +her best visitants in company which she would not show, and cannot hide; +but from the moment that a countess enters, she takes care neither to +hear nor see them: they soon find themselves neglected, and retire; and +she tells her ladyship that they are somehow related at a great +distance, and that, as they are a good sort of people, she cannot be +rude to them. + +As by this ambitious union with those that are above her, she is always +forced upon disadvantageous comparisons of her condition with theirs, +she has a constant source of misery within; and never returns from +glittering assemblies and magnificent apartments but she growls out her +discontent, and wonders why she was doomed to so indigent a state. When +she attends the duchess to a sale, she always sees something that she +cannot buy; and, that she may not seem wholly insignificant, she will +sometimes venture to bid, and often make acquisitions which she did not +want at prices which she cannot afford. + +What adds to all this uneasiness is, that this expense is without use, +and this vanity without honour; she forsakes houses where she might be +courted, for those where she is only suffered; her equals are daily made +her enemies, and her superiors will never be her friends. + +I am, Sir, yours, &c. + + + + +No. 54. SATURDAY, APRIL 28, 1759. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Sir, + +You have lately entertained your admirers with the case of an +unfortunate husband, and, thereby, given a demonstrative proof you are +not averse even to hear appeals and terminate differences between man +and wife; I, therefore, take the liberty to present you with the case of +an injured lady, which, as it chiefly relates to what I think the +lawyers call a point of law, I shall do in as juridical a manner as I am +capable, and submit it to the consideration of the learned gentlemen of +that profession. + +_Imprimis_. In the style of my marriage articles, a marriage was _had +and solemnized_ about six months ago, between me and Mr. Savecharges, a +gentleman possessed of a plentiful fortune of his own, and one who, I +was persuaded, would improve, and not spend, mine. + +Before our marriage, Mr. Savecharges had all along preferred the +salutary exercise of walking on foot to the distempered ease, as he +terms it, of lolling in a chariot; but, notwithstanding his fine +panegyricks on walking, the great advantages the infantry were in the +sole possession of, and the many dreadful dangers they escaped, he found +I had very different notions of an equipage, and was not easily to be +converted, or gained over to his party. + +An equipage I was determined to have, whenever I married. I too well +knew the disposition of my intended consort to leave the providing one +entirely to his honour, and flatter myself Mr. Savecharges has, in the +articles made previous to our marriage, _agreed to keep me a coach_; but +lest I should be mistaken, or the attorneys should not have done me +justice in methodizing or legalizing these half dozen words, I will set +about and transcribe that part of the agreement, which will explain the +matter to you much better than can be done by one who is so deeply +interested in the event; and show on what foundation I build my hopes of +being soon under the transporting, delightful denomination of a +fashionable lady, who enjoys the exalted and much-envied felicity of +bowling about in her own coach. + +"And further the said Solomon Savecharges, for divers good causes and +considerations him hereunto moving, hath agreed, and doth hereby agree, +that the said Solomon Savecharges shall and will, so soon as +conveniently may be after the solemnization of the said intended +marriage, at his own proper cost and charges, find and provide a +_certain vehicle, or four-wheel-carriage, commonly called or known by +the name of a coach_; which said vehicle, or wheel-carriage, so called +or known by the name of a coach, shall be _used and enjoyed_ by the said +Sukey Modish, his intended wife," [pray mind that, Mr. Idler,] "at such +times and in such manner as she, the said Sukey Modish, shall think fit +and convenient." + +Such, Mr. Idler, is the agreement my passionate admirer entered into; +and what the dear, frugal husband calls a performance of it, remains to +be described. Soon after the ceremony of signing and sealing was over, +our wedding-clothes being sent home, and, in short, every thing in +readiness except the coach, my own shadow was scarcely more constant +than my passionate lover in his attendance on me: wearied by his +perpetual importunities for what he called a completion of his bliss, I +consented to make him happy; in a few days I gave him my hand, and, +attended by Hymen in his saffron robes, retired to a country-seat of my +husband's, where the honey-moon flew over our heads ere we had time to +recollect ourselves, or think of our engagements in town. Well, to town +we came, and you may be sure, Sir, I expected to step into my coach on +my arrival here; but, what was my surprise and disappointment, when, +instead of this, he began to sound in my ears? "that the interest of +money was low, very low; and what a terrible thing it was to be +encumbered with a little regiment of servants in these hard times!" I +could easily perceive what all this tended to, but would not seem to +understand him; which made it highly necessary for Mr. Savecharges to +explain himself more intelligibly; to harp upon and protest he dreaded +the expense of keeping a coach. And truly, for his part, he could not +conceive how the pleasure resulting from such a convenience could be any +way adequate to the heavy expense attending it. I now thought it high +time to speak with equal plainness, and told him, as the fortune I +brought fairly entitled me to ride in my own coach, and as I was +sensible his circumstances would very well afford it, he must pardon me +if I insisted on a performance of his agreement. + +I appeal to you, Mr. Idler, whether any thing could be more civil, more +complaisant, than this? And, would you believe it, the creature in +return, a few days after, accosted me, in an offended tone, with, +"Madam, I can now tell you, your coach is ready; and since you are so +passionately fond of one, I intend you the honour of keeping a pair of +horses.--You insisted upon having an article of pin-money, and horses +are no part of my agreement." Base, designing wretch!--I beg your +pardon, Mr. Idler, the very recital of such mean, ungentleman-like +behaviour fires my blood, and lights up a flame within me. But hence, +thou worst of monsters, ill-timed Rage! and let me not spoil my cause +for want of temper. + +Now, though I am convinced I might make a worse use of part of the +pin-money, than by extending my bounty towards the support of so useful a +part of the brute creation; yet, like a true-born Englishwoman, I am so +tenacious of my rights and privileges, and moreover so good a friend to +the gentlemen of the law, that I protest, Mr. Idler, sooner than tamely +give up the point, and be quibbled out of my right, I will receive my +pin-money, as it were, with one hand, and pay it to them with the other; +provided they will give me, or, which is the same thing, my trustees, +encouragement to commence a suit against this dear, frugal husband of +mine. + +And of this I can't have the least shadow of doubt, inasmuch as I have +been told by very good authority, it is somewhere or other laid down as +a rule "_That whenever_ the law doth give any thing to one, it giveth +impliedly whatever is necessary for taking and enjoying the same[1]." +Now, I would gladly know what enjoyment I, or any lady in the kingdom, +can have of a coach without horses? The answer is obvious--None at all! +For, as Serjeant Catlyne very wisely observes, "though a coach has +wheels, to the end it may thereby and by virtue thereof be enabled to +move; yet in point of utility it may as well have none, if they are not +put in motion by means of its vital parts, that is, the horses." + +And, therefore, Sir, I humbly hope you and the learned in the law will +be of opinion, that two certain animals, or quadruped creatures, +commonly called or known by the name of horses, ought to be annexed to, +and go along with, the coach. SUKEY SAVECHARGES[2] + +[1] Quando lex aliquid alicui concedit, concedere videtur et id, sine + quo res ipsa esse non potest. Coke on Littleton, 56. a.--ED. + +[2] An unknown correspondent. + + + + +No. 55. SATURDAY, MAY 5, 1759. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Mr. Idler, + +I have taken the liberty of laying before you my complaint, and of +desiring advice or consolation with the greater confidence, because I +believe many other writers have suffered the same indignities with +myself, and hope my quarrel will be regarded by you and your readers as +the common cause of literature. + +Having been long a student, I thought myself qualified in time to become +an author. My inquiries have been much diversified and far extended, and +not finding my genius directing me by irresistible impulse to any +particular subject, I deliberated three years which part of knowledge to +illustrate by my labours. Choice is more often determined by accident +than by reason: I walked abroad one morning with a curious lady, and, by +her inquiries and observations, was incited to write the natural history +of the country in which I reside. + +Natural history is no work for one that loves his chair or his bed. +Speculation may be pursued on a soft couch, but nature must be observed +in the open air. I have collected materials with indefatigable +pertinacity. I have gathered glow-worms in the evening, and snails in +the morning; I have seen the daisy close and open, I have heard the owl +shriek at midnight, and hunted insects in the heat of noon. + +Seven years I was employed in collecting animals and vegetables, and +then found that my design was yet imperfect. The subterranean treasures +of the place had been passed unobserved, and another year was to be +spent in mines and coal-pits. What I had already done supplied a +sufficient motive to do more. I acquainted myself with the black +inhabitants of metallick caverns, and, in defiance of damps and floods, +wandered through the gloomy labyrinths, and gathered fossils from every +fissure, + +At last I began to write, and as I finished any section of my book, read +it to such of my friends, as were most skilful in the matter which it +treated. None of them were satisfied; one disliked the disposition of +the parts, another the colours of the style; one advised me to enlarge, +another to abridge. I resolved to read no more, but to take my own way +and write on, for by consultation I only perplexed my thoughts and +retarded my work. + +The book was at last finished, and I did not doubt but my labour would +be repaid by profit, and my ambition satisfied with honours. I +considered that natural history is neither temporary nor local, and that +though I limited my inquiries to my own country, yet every part of the +earth has productions common to all the rest. Civil history may be +partially studied, the revolutions of one nation may be neglected by +another; but after that in which all have an interest, all must be +inquisitive. No man can have sunk so far into stupidity as not to +consider the properties of the ground on which he walks, of the plants +on which he feeds, or the animals that delight his ear, or amuse his +eye; and, therefore, I computed that universal curiosity would call for +many editions of my book, and that in five years I should gain fifteen +thousand pounds by the sale of thirty thousand copies. + +When I began to write, I insured the house; and suffered the utmost +solicitude when I entrusted my book to the carrier, though I had secured +it against mischances by lodging two transcripts in different places. At +my arrival, I expected that the patrons of learning would contend for +the honour of a dedication, and resolved to maintain the dignity of +letters, by a haughty contempt of pecuniary solicitations. + +I took my lodgings near the house of the Royal Society, and expected +every morning a visit from the president. I walked in the Park, and +wondered that I overheard no mention of the great naturalist. At last I +visited a noble earl, and told him of my work: he answered, that he was +under an engagement never to subscribe. I was angry to have that refused +which I did not mean to ask, and concealed my design of making him +immortal. I went next day to another, and, in resentment of my late +affront, offered to prefix his name to my new book. He said, coldly, +that _he did not understand those things_; another thought, _there were +too many books_; and another would _talk with me when the races were +over_. + +Being amazed to find a man of learning so indecently slighted, I +resolved to indulge the philosophical pride of retirement and +independence. I then sent to some of the principal booksellers the plan +of my book, and bespoke a large room in the next tavern, that I might +more commodiously see them together, and enjoy the contest, while they +were outbidding one another. I drank my coffee, and yet nobody was come; +at last I received a note from one, to tell me that he was going out of +town; and from another, that natural history was out of his way. At last +there came a grave man, who desired to see the work, and, without +opening it, told me, that a book of that size _would never do_. + +I then condescended to step into shops, and mentioned my work to the +masters. Some never dealt with authors; others had their hands full; +some never had known such a dead time; others had lost by all that they +had published for the last twelvemonth. One offered to print my work, if +I could procure subscriptions for five hundred, and would allow me two +hundred copies for my property. I lost my patience, and gave him a kick; +for which he has indicted me. + +I can easily perceive, that there is a combination among them to defeat +my expectations; and I find it so general, that I am sure it must have +been long concerted. I suppose some of my friends, to whom I read the +first part, gave notice of my design, and, perhaps, sold the treacherous +intelligence at a higher price than the fraudulence of trade will now +allow me for my book. + +Inform me, Mr. Idler, what I must do; where must knowledge and industry +find their recompense, thus neglected by the high, and cheated by the +low? I sometimes resolve to print my book at my own expense, and, like +the Sibyl, double the price; and sometimes am tempted, in emulation of +Raleigh, to throw it into the fire, and leave this sordid generation to +the curses of posterity. Tell me, dear Idler, what I shall do. + +I am, Sir, &c. + + + + +No. 56. SATURDAY, MAY 12, 1759. + +There is such difference between the pursuits of men, that one part of +the inhabitants of a great city lives to little other purpose than to +wonder at the rest. Some have hopes and fears, wishes and aversions, +which never enter into the thoughts of others, and inquiry is +laboriously exerted to gain that which those who possess it are ready to +throw away. + +To those who are accustomed to value every thing by its use, and have no +such superfluity of time or money, as may prompt them to unnatural wants +or capricious emulations, nothing appears more improbable or extravagant +than the love of curiosities, or that desire of accumulating trifles, +which distinguishes many by whom no other distinction could have ever +been obtained. + +He that has lived without knowing to what height desire may be raised by +vanity, with what rapture baubles are snatched out of the hands of rival +collectors, how the eagerness of one raises eagerness in another, and +one worthless purchase makes a second necessary, may, by passing a few +hours at an auction, learn more than can be shown by many volumes of +maxims or essays. + +The advertisement of a sale is a signal which, at once, puts a thousand +hearts in motion, and brings contenders from every part to the scene of +distribution. He that had resolved to buy no more, feels his constancy +subdued; there is now something in the catalogue which completes his +cabinet, and which he was never before able to find. He whose sober +reflections inform him, that of adding collection to collection there is +no end, and that it is wise to leave early that which must be left +imperfect at last, yet cannot withhold himself from coming to see what +it is that brings so many together, and when he comes is soon +overpowered by his habitual passion; he is attracted by rarity, seduced +by example, and inflamed by competition. + +While the stores of pride and happiness are surveyed, one looks with +longing eyes and gloomy countenance on that which he despairs to gain +from a richer bidder; another keeps his eye with care from settling too +long on that which he most earnestly desires; and another, with more art +than virtue, depreciates that which he values most, in hope to have it +at an easy rate. + +The novice is often surprised to see what minute and unimportant +discriminations increase or diminish value. An irregular contortion of a +turbinated shell, which common eyes pass unregarded, will ten times +treble its price in the imagination of philosophers. Beauty is far from +operating upon collectors as upon low and vulgar minds, even where +beauty might be thought the only quality that could deserve notice. +Among the shells that please by their variety of colours, if one can be +found accidentally deformed by a cloudy spot, it is boasted as the pride +of the collection. China is sometimes purchased for little less than its +weight in gold, only because it is old, though neither less brittle, nor +better painted, than the modern; and brown china is caught up with +ecstasy, though no reason can be imagined for which it should be +preferred to common vessels of common clay. + +The fate of prints and coins is equally inexplicable. Some prints are +treasured up as inestimably valuable, because the impression was made +before the plate was finished. Of coins the price rises not from the +purity of the metal, the excellence of the workmanship, the elegance of +the legend, or the chronological use. A piece, of which neither the +inscription can be read, nor the face distinguished, if there remain of +it but enough to show that it is rare, will be sought by contending +nations, and dignify the treasury in which it shall be shown. + +Whether this curiosity, so barren of immediate advantage, and so liable +to depravation, does more harm or good, is not easily decided. Its harm +is apparent at first view. It fills the mind with trifling ambition; +fixes the attention upon things which have seldom any tendency towards +virtue or wisdom; employs in idle inquiries the time that is given for +better purposes; and often ends in mean and dishonest practices, when +desire increases by indulgence beyond the power of honest gratification. + +These are the effects of curiosity in excess; but what passion in excess +will not become vicious? All indifferent qualities and practices are +bad, if they are compared with those which are good, and good, if they +are opposed to those that are bad. The pride or the pleasure of making +collections, if it be restrained by prudence and morality, produces a +pleasing remission after more laborious studies; furnishes an amusement +not wholly unprofitable for that part of life, the greater part of many +lives, which would otherwise be lost in idleness or vice; it produces an +useful traffick between the industry of indigence and the curiosity of +wealth; it brings many things to notice that would be neglected, and, by +fixing the thoughts upon intellectual pleasures, resists the natural +encroachments of sensuality, and maintains the mind in her lawful +superiority. + + + + +No. 57. SATURDAY, MAY 19, 1759. + +Prudence is of more frequent use than any other intellectual quality; it +is exerted on slight occasions, and called into act by the cursory +business of common life. + +Whatever is universally necessary, has been granted to mankind on easy +terms. Prudence, as it is always wanted, is without great difficulty +obtained. It requires neither extensive view nor profound search, but +forces itself, by spontaneous impulse, upon a mind neither great nor +busy, neither engrossed by vast designs, nor distracted by multiplicity +of attention. + +Prudence operates on life in the same manner as rules on composition: it +produces vigilance rather than elevation, rather prevents loss than +procures advantage; and often escapes miscarriages, but seldom reaches +either power or honour. It quenches that ardour of enterprise, by which +every thing is done that can claim praise or admiration; and represses +that generous temerity which often fails, and often succeeds. Rules may +obviate faults, but can never confer beauties; and prudence keeps life +safe, but does not often make it happy. The world is not amazed with +prodigies of excellence, but when wit tramples upon rules, and +magnanimity breaks the chains of prudence. + +One of the most prudent of all that have fallen within my observation, +is my old companion Sophron, who has passed through the world in quiet, +by perpetual adherence to a few plain maxims, and wonders how contention +and distress can so often happen. + +The first principle of Sophron is, _to run no hazards_. Though he loves +money, he is of opinion that frugality is a more certain source of +riches than industry. It is to no purpose that any prospect of large +profit is set before him; he believes little about futurity, and does +not love to trust his money out of his sight, for _nobody knows what may +happen_. He has a small estate, which he lets at the old rent, because +_it is better to have a little than nothing_; but he rigorously demands +payment on the stated day, for _he that cannot pay one quarter cannot +pay two_. If he is told of any improvements in agriculture, he likes the +old way, has observed that changes very seldom answer expectation, is of +opinion that our forefathers knew how to till the ground as well as we; +and concludes with an argument that nothing can overpower, that the +expense of planting and fencing is immediate, and the advantage distant, +and that _he is no wise man who will quit a certainty for an +uncertainty_. + +Another of Sophron's rules is, _to mind no business but his own_. In the +state, he is of no party; but hears and speaks of publick affairs with +the same coldness as of the administration of some ancient republick. If +any flagrant act of fraud or oppression is mentioned, he hopes that _all +is not true that is told_: if misconduct or corruption puts the nation +in a flame, he hopes _every man means well_. At elections he leaves his +dependants to their own choice, and declines to vote himself, for every +candidate is a good man, whom he is unwilling to oppose or offend. + +If disputes happen among his neighbours, he observes an invariable and +cold neutrality. His punctuality has gained him the reputation of +honesty, and his caution that of wisdom; and few would refuse to refer +their claims to his award. He might have prevented many expensive +law-suits, and quenched many a feud in its first smoke; but always refuses +the office of arbitration, because he must decide against one or the +other. + +With the affairs of other families he is always unacquainted. He sees +estates bought and sold, squandered and increased, without praising the +economist, or censuring the spendthrift. He never courts the rising, +lest they should fall; nor insults the fallen, lest they should rise +again. His caution has the appearance of virtue, and all who do not want +his help praise his benevolence; but, if any man solicits his +assistance, he has just sent away all his money; and, when the +petitioner is gone, declares to his family that he is sorry for his +misfortunes, has always looked upon him with particular kindness, and, +therefore, could not lend him money, lest he should destroy their +friendship by the necessity of enforcing payment. + +Of domestick misfortunes he has never heard. When he is told the +hundredth time of a gentleman's daughter who has married the coachman, +he lifts up his hands with astonishment, for he always thought her a +sober girl. + +When nuptial quarrels, after having filled the country with talk and +laughter, at last end in separation, he never can conceive how it +happened, for he looked upon them as a happy couple. + +If his advice is asked, he never gives any particular direction, because +events are uncertain, and he will bring no blame upon himself; but he +takes the consulter tenderly by the hand, tells him he makes his case +his own, and advises him not to act rashly, but to weigh the reasons on +both sides; observes, that a man may be as easily too hasty as too slow; +and that as many fail by doing too much as too little; that _a wise man +has two ears and one tongue_; and that _little said is soon mended_; +that he could tell him this and that, but that after all every man is +the best judge of his own affairs. + +With this some are satisfied, and go home with great reverence of +Sophron's wisdom; and none are offended, because every one is left in +full possession of his own opinion. + +Sophron gives no characters. It is equally vain to tell him of vice and +virtue; for he has remarked, that no man likes to be censured, and that +very few are delighted with the praises of another. He has a few terms +which he uses to all alike. With respect to fortune, he believes every +one to be in good circumstances; he never exalts any understanding by +lavish praise, yet he meets with none but very sensible people. Every +man is honest and hearty; and every woman is a good creature. + +Thus Sophron creeps along, neither loved nor hated, neither favoured nor +opposed: he has never attempted to grow rich, for fear of growing poor; +and has raised no friends, for fear of making enemies. + + + + +No. 58. SATURDAY, MAY 26, 1759. + +Pleasure is very seldom found where it is sought. Our brightest blazes +of gladness are commonly kindled by unexpected sparks. The flowers which +scatter their odours, from time to time, in the paths of life, grow up +without culture from seeds scattered by chance. + +Nothing is more hopeless than a scheme of merriment. Wits and humourists +are brought together from distant quarters by preconcerted invitations; +they come, attended by their admirers, prepared to laugh and to applaud; +they gaze awhile on each other, ashamed to be silent, and afraid to +speak; every man is discontented with himself, grows angry with those +that give him pain, and resolves that he will contribute nothing to the +merriment of such worthless company. Wine inflames the general +malignity, and changes sullenness to petulance, till at last none can +bear any longer the presence of the rest. They retire to vent their +indignation in safer places, where they are heard with attention; their +importance is restored, they recover their good humour, and gladden the +night with wit and jocularity. + +Merriment is always the effect of a sudden impression. The jest which is +expected is already destroyed. The most active imagination will be +sometimes torpid, under the frigid influence of melancholy, and +sometimes occasions will be wanting to tempt the mind, however volatile, +to sallies and excursions. Nothing was ever said with uncommon felicity, +but by the co-operation of chance; and, therefore, wit, as well as +valour, must be content to share its honours with fortune. + +All other pleasures are equally uncertain; the general remedy of +uneasiness is change of place; almost every one has some journey of +pleasure in his mind, with which he flatters his expectation. He that +travels in theory has no inconvenience; he has shade and sunshine at his +disposal, and wherever he alights finds tables of plenty and looks of +gaiety. These ideas are indulged till the day of departure arrives, the +chaise is called, and the progress of happiness begins. + +A few miles teach him the fallacies of imagination. The road is dusty, +the air is sultry, the horses are sluggish, and the postillion brutal. +He longs for the time of dinner, that he may eat and rest. The inn is +crowded, his orders are neglected, and nothing remains but that he +devour in haste what the cook has spoiled, and drive on in quest of +better entertainment. He finds at night a more commodious house, but the +best is always worse than he expected. + +He at last enters his native province, and resolves to feast his mind +with the conversation of his old friends, and the recollection of +juvenile frolicks. He stops at the house of his friend, whom he designs +to overpower with pleasure by the unexpected interview. He is not known +till he tells his name, and revives the memory of himself by a gradual +explanation. He is then coldly received, and ceremoniously feasted. He +hastes away to another, whom his affairs have called to a distant place, +and, having seen the empty house, goes away disgusted by a +disappointment which could not be intended, because it could not be +foreseen. At the next house he finds every face clouded with misfortune, +and is regarded with malevolence as an unreasonable intruder, who comes +not to visit but to insult them. It is seldom that we find either men +or places such as we expect them. He that has pictured a prospect upon +his fancy, will receive little pleasure from his eyes; he that has +anticipated the conversation of a wit, will wonder to what prejudice he +owes his reputation. Yet it is necessary to hope, though hope should +always be deluded; for hope itself is happiness, and its frustrations, +however frequent, are less dreadful than its extinction. + + + + +No. 59. SATURDAY, JUNE 2, 1759. + +In the common enjoyments of life, we cannot very liberally indulge the +present hour, but by anticipating part of the pleasure which might have +relieved the tediousness of another day; and any uncommon exertion of +strength, or perseverance in labour, is succeeded by a long interval of +languor and weariness. Whatever advantage we snatch beyond the certain +portion allotted us by nature, is like money spent before it is due, +which, at the time of regular payment, will be missed and regretted. + +Fame, like all other things which are supposed to give or to increase +happiness, is dispensed with the same equality of distribution. He that +is loudly praised will be clamorously censured; he that rises hastily +into fame will be in danger of sinking suddenly into oblivion. + +Of many writers who filled their age with wonder, and whose names we +find celebrated in the books of their contemporaries, the works are now +no longer to be seen, or are seen only amidst the lumber of libraries +which are seldom visited, where they lie only to show the deceitfulness +of hope, and the uncertainty of honour. + +Of the decline of reputation many causes may be assigned. It is commonly +lost because it never was deserved; and was conferred at first, not by +the suffrage of criticism, but by the fondness of friendship, or +servility of flattery. The great and popular are very freely applauded; +but all soon grow weary of echoing to each other a name which has no +other claim to notice, but that many mouths are pronouncing it at once. + +But many have lost the final reward of their labours, because they were +too hasty to enjoy it. They have laid hold on recent occurrences, and +eminent names, and delighted their readers with allusions and remarks, +in which all were interested, and to which all, therefore, were +attentive. But the effect ceased with its cause; the time quickly came +when new events drove the former from memory, when the vicissitudes of +the world brought new hopes and fears, transferred the love and hatred +of the publick to other agents; and the writer, whose works were no +longer assisted by gratitude or resentment, was left to the cold regard +of idle curiosity. + +He that writes upon general principles, or delivers universal truths, +may hope to be often read, because his work will be equally useful at +all times and in every country; but he cannot expect it to be received +with eagerness, or to spread with rapidity, because desire can have no +particular stimulation: that which is to be loved long, must be loved +with reason rather than with passion. He that lays his labours out upon +temporary subjects, easily finds readers, and quickly loses them; for +what should make the book valued when the subject is no more? + +These observations will show the reason why the poem of Hudibras is +almost forgotten, however embellished with sentiments and diversified +with allusions, however bright with wit, and however solid with truth. +The hypocrisy which it detected, and the folly which it ridiculed, have +long vanished from publick notice. Those who had felt the mischief of +discord, and the tyranny of usurpation, read it with rapture; for every +line brought back to memory something known, and gratified resentment by +the just censure of something hated. But the book, which was once quoted +by princes, and which supplied conversation to all the assemblies of the +gay and witty, is now seldom mentioned, and even by those that affect to +mention it, is seldom read. So vainly is wit lavished upon fugitive +topicks; so little can architecture secure duration when the ground is +false. + + + + +No. 60. SATURDAY, JUNE 9, 1759. + +Criticism is a study by which men grow important and formidable at a +very small expense. The power of invention has been conferred by nature +upon few, and the labour of learning those sciences, which may by mere +labour be obtained, is too great to be willingly endured; but every man +can exert such judgment as he has upon the works of others; and he whom +nature has made weak, and idleness keeps ignorant, may yet support his +vanity by the name of a Critick. + +I hope it will give comfort to great numbers who are passing through the +world in obscurity, when I inform them how easily distinction may be +obtained. All the other powers of literature are coy and haughty, they +must be long courted, and at last are not always gained; but Criticism +is a goddess easy of access and forward of advance, who will meet the +slow, and encourage the timorous; the want of meaning she supplies with +words, and the want of spirit she recompenses with malignity. + +This profession has one recommendation peculiar to itself, that it gives +vent to malignity without real mischief. No genius was ever blasted by +the breath of criticks. The poison which, if confined, would have burst +the heart, fumes away in empty hisses, and malice is set at ease with +very little danger to merit. The critick is the only man whose triumph +is without another's pain, and whose greatness does not rise upon +another's ruin. + +To a study at once so easy and so reputable, so malicious and so +harmless, it cannot be necessary to invite my readers by a long or +laboured exhortation; it is sufficient, since all would be criticks if +they could, to show, by one eminent example, that all can be criticks if +they will. + +Dick Minim, after the common course of puerile studies, in which he was +no great proficient, was put an apprentice to a brewer, with whom he had +lived two years, when his uncle died in the city, and left him a large +fortune in the stocks. Dick had for six months before used the company +of the lower players, of whom he had learned to scorn a trade, and, +being now at liberty to follow his genius, he resolved to be a man of +wit and humour. That he might be properly initiated in his new +character, he frequented the coffee-houses near the theatres, where he +listened very diligently, day after day, to those who talked of language +and sentiments, and unities and catastrophes, till, by slow degrees, he +began to think that be understood something of the stage, and hoped in +time to talk himself. + +But he did not trust so much to natural sagacity as wholly to neglect +the help of books. When the theatres were shut, he retired to Richmond +with a few select writers, whose opinions he impressed upon his memory +by unwearied diligence; and, when he returned with other wits to the +town, was able to tell, in very proper phrases, that the chief business +of art is to copy nature; that a perfect writer is not to be expected, +because genius decays as judgment increases; that the great art is the +art of blotting; and that, according to the rule of Horace, every piece +should be kept nine years. + +Of the great authors he now began to display the characters, laying down +as an universal position, that all had beauties and defects. His opinion +was, that Shakespeare, committing himself wholly to the impulse of +nature, wanted that correctness which learning would have given him; and +that Jonson, trusting to learning, did not sufficiently cast his eyes on +nature. He blamed the stanzas of Spenser, and could not bear the +hexameters of Sidney. Denham and Waller he held the first reformers of +English numbers; and thought that if Waller could have obtained the +strength of Denham, or Denham the sweetness of Waller, there had been +nothing wanting to complete a poet. He often expressed his commiseration +of Dryden's poverty, and his indignation at the age which suffered him +to write for bread; he repeated with rapture the first lines of All for +Love, but wondered at the corruption of taste which could bear any thing +so unnatural as rhyming tragedies. + +In Otway he found uncommon powers of moving the passions, but was +disgusted by his general negligence, and blamed him for making a +conspirator his hero; and never concluded his disquisition, without +remarking how happily the sound of the clock is made to alarm the +audience. Southern would have been his favourite, but that he mixes +comick with tragick scenes, intercepts the natural course of the +passions, and fills the mind with a wild confusion of mirth and +melancholy. The versification of Rowe he thought too melodious for the +stage, and too little varied in different passions. He made it the great +fault of Congreve, that all his persons were wits, and that he always +wrote with more art than nature. He considered Cato rather as a poem +than a play, and allowed Addison to be the complete master of allegory +and grave humour, but paid no great deference to him as a critick. He +thought the chief merit of Prior was in his easy tales and lighter +poems, though he allowed that his Solomon had many noble sentiments +elegantly expressed. In Swift he discovered an inimitable vein of irony, +and an easiness which all would hope and few would attain. Pope he was +inclined to degrade from a poet to a versifier, and thought his numbers +rather luscious than sweet. He often lamented the neglect of Phaedra and +Hippolytus, and wished to see the stage under better regulations. + +These assertions passed commonly uncontradicted; and if now and then an +opponent started up, he was quickly repressed by the suffrages of the +company, and Minim went away from every dispute with elation of heart +and increase of confidence. + +He now grew conscious of his abilities, and began to talk of the present +state of dramatick poetry; wondered what had become of the comick genius +which supplied our ancestors with wit and pleasantry, and why no writer +could be found that durst now venture beyond a farce. He saw no reason +for thinking that the vein of humour was exhausted, since we live in a +country, where liberty suffers every character to spread itself to its +utmost bulk, and which, therefore, produces more originals than all the +rest of the world together. Of tragedy he concluded business to be the +soul, and yet often hinted that love predominates too much upon the +modern stage. + +He was now an acknowledged critick, and had his own seat in a +coffee-house, and headed a party in the pit. Minim has more vanity than +ill-nature, and seldom desires to do much mischief; he will, perhaps, +murmur a little in the ear of him that sits next him, but endeavours to +influence the audience to favour, by clapping when an actor exclaims, +_Ye gods!_ or laments the misery of his country. + +By degrees he was admitted to rehearsals; and many of his friends are of +opinion, that our present poets are indebted to him for their happiest +thoughts; by his contrivance the bell was rung twice in Barbarossa, and +by his persuasion the author of Cleone concluded his play without a +couplet; for what can be more absurd, said Minim, than that part of a +play should be rhymed, and part written in blank verse? and by what +acquisition of faculties is the speaker, who never could find rhymes +before, enabled to rhyme at the conclusion of an act? + +He is the great investigator of hidden beauties, and is particularly +delighted when he finds "the sound an echo to the sense." He has read +all our poets, with particular attention to this delicacy of +versification, and wonders at the supineness with which their works have +been hitherto perused, so that no man has found the sound of a drum in +this distich: + + "When pulpit, drum ecclesiastic, + Was beat with fist instead of a stick;" + +and that the wonderful lines upon honour and a bubble have hitherto +passed without notice: + + "Honour is like the glassy bubble, + Which costs philosophers such trouble; + Where, one part crack'd, the whole does fly, + And wits are crack'd to find out why." + +In these verses, says Minim, we have two striking accommodations of the +sound to the sense. It is impossible to utter the first two lines +emphatically without an act like that which they describe; _bubble_ and +_trouble_ causing a momentary inflation of the cheeks by the retention +of the breath, which is afterwards forcibly emitted, as in the practice +of _blowing bubbles_. But the greatest excellence is in the third line, +which is _crack'd_ in the middle to express a crack, and then shivers +into monosyllables. Yet has this diamond lain neglected with common +stones, and among the innumerable admirers of Hudibras the observation +of this superlative passage has been reserved for the sagacity of Minim. + + + + +No. 61. SATURDAY, JUNE 15, 1759. + +Mr. Minim had now advanced himself to the zenith of critical reputation; +when he was in the pit, every eye in the boxes was fixed upon him; when +he entered his coffee-house, he was surrounded by circles of candidates, +who passed their noviciate of literature under his tuition: his opinion +was asked by all who had no opinion of their own, and yet loved to +debate and decide; and no composition was supposed to pass in safety to +posterity, till it had been secured by Minim's approbation. + +Minim professes great admiration of the wisdom and munificence by which +the academies of the continent were raised; and often wishes for some +standard of taste, for some tribunal, to which merit may appeal from +caprice, prejudice and malignity. He has formed a plan for an academy of +criticism, where every work of imagination may be read before it is +printed, and which shall authoritatively direct the theatres what pieces +to receive or reject, to exclude or to revive. + +Such an institution would, in Dick's opinion, spread the fame of English +literature over Europe, and make London the metropolis of elegance and +politeness, the place to which the learned and ingenious of all +countries would repair for instruction and improvement, and where +nothing would any longer be applauded or endured that was not conformed +to the nicest rules, and finished with the highest elegance. + +Till some happy conjunction of the planets shall dispose our princes or +ministers to make themselves immortal by such an academy, Minim contents +himself to preside four nights in a week in a critical society selected +by himself, where he is heard without contradiction, and whence his +judgment is disseminated through the great vulgar and the small. + +When he is placed in the chair of criticism, he declares loudly for the +noble simplicity of our ancestors, in opposition to the petty +refinements, and ornamental luxuriance. Sometimes he is sunk in despair, +and perceives false delicacy daily gaining ground, and sometimes +brightens his countenance with a gleam of hope, and predicts the revival +of the true sublime. He then fulminates his loudest censures against the +monkish barbarity of rhyme; wonders how beings that pretend to reason +can be pleased with one line always ending like another; tells how +unjustly and unnaturally sense is sacrificed to sound; how often the +best thoughts are mangled by the necessity of confining or extending +them to the dimensions of a couplet; and rejoices that genius has, in +our days, shaken off the shackles which had encumbered it so long. Yet +he allows that rhyme may sometimes be borne, if the lines be often +broken, and the pauses judiciously diversified. + +From blank verse he makes an easy transition to Milton, whom he produces +as an example of the slow advance of lasting reputation. Milton is the +only writer in whose books Minim can read for ever without weariness. +What cause it is that exempts this pleasure from satiety he has long and +diligently inquired, and believes it to consist in the perpetual +variation of the numbers, by which the ear is gratified and the +attention awakened. The lines that are commonly thought rugged and +unmusical, he conceives to have been written to temper the melodious +luxury of the rest, or to express things by a proper cadence: for he +scarcely finds a verse that has not this favourite beauty; he declares +that he could shiver in a hot-house when he reads that + + "the ground + Burns frore, and cold performs th' effect of fire;" + +and that, when Milton bewails his blindness, the verse, + + "So thick a drop serene has quench'd these orbs," + +has, he knows not how, something that strikes him with an obscure +sensation like that which he fancies would be felt from the sound of +darkness. + +Minim is not so confident of his rules of judgment as not very eagerly +to catch new light from the name of the author. He is commonly so +prudent as to spare those whom he cannot resist, unless, as will +sometimes happen, he finds the publick combined against them. But a +fresh pretender to fame he is strongly inclined to censure, till his own +honour requires that he commend him. Till he knows the success of a +composition, he intrenches himself in general terms; there are some new +thoughts and beautiful passages, but there is likewise much which he +would have advised the author to expunge. He has several favourite +epithets, of which he has never settled the meaning, but which are very +commodiously applied to books which he has not read, or cannot +understand. One is _manly_, another is _dry_, another _stiff_, and +another _flimsy_; sometimes he discovers delicacy of style, and +sometimes meets with _strange expressions_. + +He is never so great, or so happy, as when a youth of promising parts is +brought to receive his directions for the prosecution of his studies. He +then puts on a very serious air; he advises the pupil to read none but +the best authors; and when he finds one congenial to his own mind, to +study his beauties, but avoid his faults; and, when he sits down to +write, to consider how his favourite author would think at the present +time on the present occasion. He exhorts him to catch those moments when +he finds his thoughts expanded and his genius exalted, but to take care +lest imagination hurry him beyond the bounds of nature. He holds +diligence the mother of success; yet enjoins him, with great +earnestness, not to read more than he can digest, and not to confuse his +mind by pursuing studies of contrary tendencies. He tells him, that +every man has his genius, and that Cicero could never be a poet. The boy +retires illuminated, resolves to follow his genius, and to think how +Milton would have thought: and Minim feasts upon his own beneficence +till another day brings another pupil. + + + + +No. 62. SATURDAY, JUNE 23, 1759. + + _Quid faciam, proescribe. Quiescas_.--HOR. Lib. ii. Sat. i. 5. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Sir, + +An opinion prevails almost universally in the world, that he who has +money has every thing. This is not a modern paradox, or the tenet of a +small and obscure sect, but a persuasion which appears to have operated +upon most minds in all ages, and which is supported by authorities so +numerous and so cogent, that nothing but long experience could have +given me confidence to question its truth. + +But experience is the test by which all the philosophers of the present +age agree, that speculation must be tried; and I may be, therefore, +allowed to doubt the power of money, since I have been a long time rich, +and have not yet found that riches can make me happy. + +My father was a farmer neither wealthy nor indigent, who gave me a +better education than was suitable to my birth, because my uncle in the +city designed me for his heir, and desired that I might be bred a +gentleman. My uncle's wealth was the perpetual subject of conversation +in the house; and when any little misfortune befell us, or any +mortification dejected us, my father always exhorted me to hold up my +head, for my uncle would never marry. + +My uncle, indeed, kept his promise. Having his mind completely busied +between his warehouse and the 'Change, he felt no tediousness of life, +nor any want of domestick amusements. When my father died, he received +me kindly; but, after a few months, finding no great pleasure in the +conversation of each other, we parted; and he remitted me a small +annuity, on which I lived a quiet and studious life, without any wish to +grow great by the death of my benefactor. + +But though I never suffered any malignant impatience to take hold on my +mind, I could not forbear sometimes to imagine to myself the pleasure of +being rich; and, when I read of diversions and magnificence, resolved to +try, when time should put the trial in my power, what pleasure they +could afford. + +My uncle, in the latter spring of his life, when his ruddy cheek and his +firm nerves promised him a long and healthy age, died of an apoplexy. +His death gave me neither joy nor sorrow. He did me good, and I regarded +him with gratitude; but I could not please him, and, therefore, could +not love him. + +He had the policy of little minds, who love to surprise; and, having +always represented his fortune as less than it was, had, I suppose, +often gratified himself with thinking, how I should be delighted to find +myself twice as rich as I expected. My wealth was such as exceeded all +the schemes of expense which I had formed; and I soon began to expand my +thoughts, and look round for some purchase of felicity. + +The most striking effect of riches is the splendour of dress, which +every man has observed to enforce respect, and facilitate reception; and +my first desire was to be fine. I sent for a tailor who was employed by +the nobility, and ordered such a suit of clothes as I had often looked +on with involuntary submission, and am ashamed to remember with what +flutters of expectation I waited for the hour, when I should issue forth +in all the splendour of embroidery. The clothes were brought, and for +three days I observed many eyes turned towards me as I passed: but I +felt myself obstructed in the common intercourse of civility by an +uneasy consciousness of my new appearance; as I thought myself more +observed, I was more anxious about my mien and behaviour; and the mien +which is formed by care is commonly ridiculous. A short time accustomed +me to myself, and my dress was without pain, and without pleasure. + +For a little while I tried to be a rake, but I began too late; and +having by nature no turn for a frolick, was in great danger of ending in +a drunkard. A fever, in which not one of my companions paid me a visit, +gave me time for reflection. I found that there was no great pleasure in +breaking windows and lying in the round-house; and resolved to associate +no longer with those whom, though I had treated and bailed them, I could +not make friends. + +I then changed my measures, kept running horses, and had the comfort of +seeing my name very often in the news. I had a chesnut horse, the +grandson of Childers, who won four plates, and ten by-matches; and a bay +filly, who carried off the five years' old plate, and was expected to +perform much greater exploits, when my groom broke her wind, because I +happened to catch him selling oats for beer. This happiness was soon at +an end; there was no pleasure when I lost, and, when I won, I could not +much exalt myself by the virtues of my horse. I grew ashamed of the +company of jockey-lords, and resolved to spend no more of my time in the +stable. + +It was now known that I had money, and would spend it, and I passed four +months in the company of architects, whose whole business was to +persuade me to build a house. I told them that I had more room than I +wanted, but could not get rid of their importunities. A new plan was +brought me every morning; till at last my constancy was overpowered, and +I began to build. The happiness of building lasted but a little while, +for though I love to spend, I hate to be cheated; and I soon found, that +to build is to be robbed. + +How I proceed in the pursuit of happiness, you shall hear when I find +myself disposed to write. + +I am, Sir, &c. + +TIM. RANGER. + + + + +No. 63. SATURDAY, JUNE 30, 1759. + +The natural progress of the works of men is from rudeness to +convenience, from convenience to elegance, and from elegance to nicety. + +The first labour is enforced by necessity. The savage finds himself +incommoded by heat and cold, by rain and wind; he shelters himself in +the hollow of a rock, and learns to dig a cave where there was none +before. He finds the sun and the wind excluded by the thicket; and when +the accidents of the chase, or the convenience of pasturage, leads him +into more open places, he forms a thicket for himself, by planting +stakes at proper distances, and laying branches from one to another. + +The next gradation of skill and industry produces a house closed with +doors, and divided by partitions; and apartments are multiplied and +disposed according to the various degrees of power or invention; +improvement succeeds improvement, as he that is freed from a greater +evil grows impatient of a less, till ease in time is advanced to +pleasure. + +The mind, set free from the importunities of natural want, gains leisure +to go in search of superfluous gratifications, and adds to the uses of +habitation the delights of prospect. Then begins the reign of symmetry; +orders of architecture are invented, and one part of the edifice is +conformed to another, without any other reason, than that the eye may +not be offended. + +The passage is very short from elegance to luxury, Ionick and Corinthian +columns are soon succeeded by gilt cornices, inlaid floors and petty +ornaments, which show rather the wealth than the taste of the +possessour. + +Language proceeds, like every thing else, through improvement to +degeneracy. The rovers who first took possession of a country, having +not many ideas, and those not nicely modified or discriminated, were +contented, if by general terms and abrupt sentences they could make +their thoughts known to one another: as life begins to be more +regulated, and property to become limited, disputes must be decided, and +claims adjusted; the differences of things are noted, and distinctness +and propriety of expression become necessary. In time, happiness and +plenty give rise to curiosity, and the sciences are cultivated for ease +and pleasure; to the arts, which are now to be taught, emulation soon +adds the art of teaching; and the studious and ambitious contend not +only who shall think best, but who shall tell their thoughts in the most +pleasing manner. + +Then begin the arts of rhetorick and poetry, the regulation of figures, +the selection of words, the modulation of periods, the graces of +transition, the complication of clauses, and all the delicacies of style +and subtilties of composition, useful while they advance perspicuity, +and laudable while they increase pleasure, but easy to be refined by +needless scrupulosity till they shall more embarrass the writer than +assist the reader or delight him. + +The first state is commonly antecedent to the practice of writing; the +ignorant essays of imperfect diction pass away with the savage +generation that uttered them. No nation can trace their language beyond +the second period, and even of that it does not often happen that many +monuments remain. + +The fate of the English tongue is like that of others. We know nothing +of the scanty jargon of our barbarous ancestors; but we have specimens +of our language when it began to be adapted to civil and religious +purposes, and find it such as might naturally be expected, artless and +simple, unconnected and concise. The writers seem to have desired little +more than to be understood, and, perhaps, seldom aspired to the praise +of pleasing. Their verses were considered chiefly as memorial, and, +therefore, did not differ from prose but by the measure or the rhyme. + +In this state, varied a little according to the different purposes or +abilities of writers, our language may be said to have continued to the +time of Gower, whom Chaucer calls his master, and who, however obscured +by his scholar's popularity, seems justly to claim the honour which has +been hitherto denied him, of showing his countrymen that something more +was to be desired, and that English verse might be exalted into poetry. + +From the time of Gower and Chaucer, the English writers have studied +elegance, and advanced their language, by successive improvements, to as +much harmony as it can easily receive, and as much copiousness as human +knowledge has hitherto required. These advances have not been made at +all times with the same diligence or the same success. Negligence has +suspended the course of improvement, or affectation turned it aside; +time has elapsed with little change, or change has been made without +amendment. But elegance has been long kept in view with attention as +near to constancy as life permits, till every man now endeavours to +excel others in accuracy, or outshine them in splendour of style, and +the danger is, lest care should too soon pass to affectation. + + + + +No. 64. SATURDAY, JULY 1, 1759. + + _Quid faciam, praescribe. Quiescas_.--HOR. Lib. ii. Sat. i. 5. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Sir, + +As nature has made every man desirous of happiness, I flatter myself, +that you and your readers cannot but feel some curiosity to know the +sequel of my story; for though, by trying the different schemes of +pleasure, I have yet found nothing in which I could finally acquiesce; +yet the narrative of my attempts will not be wholly without use, since +we always approach nearer to truth as we detect more and more varieties +of errour. + +When I had sold my racers, and put the orders of architecture out of my +head, my next resolution was to be a _fine gentleman_. I frequented the +polite coffee-houses, grew acquainted with all the men of humour, and +gained the right of bowing familiarly to half the nobility. In this new +scene of life my great labour was to learn to laugh. I had been used to +consider laughter as the effect of merriment; but I soon learned that it +is one of the arts of adulation, and, from laughing only to show that I +was pleased, I now began to laugh when I wished to please. This was at +first very difficult. I sometimes heard the story with dull +indifference, and, not exalting myself to merriment by due gradations, +burst out suddenly into an awkward noise, which was not always +favourably interpreted. Sometimes I was behind the rest of the company, +and lost the grace of laughing by delay, and sometimes, when I began at +the right time, was deficient in loudness or in length. But, by diligent +imitation of the best models, I attained at last such flexibility of +muscles, that I was always a welcome auditor of a story, and got the +reputation of a good-natured fellow. + +This was something; but much more was to be done, that I might be +universally allowed to be a fine gentleman. I appeared at court on all +publick days; betted at gaming-tables; and played at all the routs of +eminence. I went every night to the opera, took a fiddler of disputed +merit under my protection, became the head of a musical faction, and had +sometimes concerts at my own house. I once thought to have attained the +highest rank of elegance, by taking a foreign singer into keeping. But +my favourite fiddler contrived to be arrested, on the night of a +concert, for a finer suit of clothes than I had ever presumed to wear, +and I lost all the fame of patronage by refusing to bail him. + +My next ambition was to sit for my picture. I spent a whole winter in +going from painter to painter, to bespeak a whole length of one, and a +half length of another; I talked of nothing but attitudes, draperies and +proper lights; took my friends to see the pictures after every sitting; +heard every day of a wonderful performer in crayons and miniature, and +sent my pictures to be copied; was told by the judges that they were not +like, and was recommended to other artists. At length, being not able to +please my friends, I grew less pleased myself, and at last resolved to +think no more about it. + +It was impossible to live in total idleness: and wandering about in +search of something to do, I was invited to a weekly meeting of +virtuosos, and felt myself instantaneously seized with an +unextinguishable ardour for all natural curiosities. I ran from auction +to auction, became a critick in shells and fossils, bought a _Hortus +siccus_ of inestimable value, and purchased a secret art of preserving +insects, which made my collection the envy of the other philosophers. I +found this pleasure mingled with much vexation. All the faults of my +life were for nine months circulated through the town with the most +active malignity, because I happened to catch a moth of peculiar +variegation; and because I once out-bid all the lovers of shells, and +carried off a nautilus, it was hinted that the validity of my uncle's +will ought to be disputed. I will not deny that I was very proud both of +the moth and of the shell, and gratified myself with the envy of my +companions, perhaps, more than became a benevolent being. But in time I +grew weary of being hated for that which produced no advantage, gave my +shells to children that wanted play-things, and suppressed the art of +drying butterflies, because I would not tempt idleness and cruelty to +kill them. + +I now began to feel life tedious, and wished to store myself with +friends, with whom I might grow old in the interchange of benevolence. I +had observed that popularity was most easily gained by an open table, +and, therefore, hired a French cook, furnished my sideboard with great +magnificence, filled my cellar with wines of pompous appellations, +bought every thing that was dear before it was good, and invited all +those who were most famous for judging of a dinner. In three weeks my +cook gave me warning, and, upon inquiry, told me that Lord Queasy, who +dined with me the day before, had sent him an offer of double wages. My +pride prevailed; I raised his wages, and invited his lordship to another +feast. I love plain meat, and was, therefore, soon weary of spreading a +table of which I could not partake. I found that my guests, when they +went away, criticised their entertainment, and censured my profusion; my +cook thought himself necessary, and took upon him the direction of the +house; and I could not rid myself of flatterers, or break from slavery, +but by shutting up my house, and declaring my resolution to live in +lodgings. + +After all this, tell me, dear Idler, what I must do next; I have health, +I have money, and I hope that I have understanding; yet, with all these, +I have never been able to pass a single day which I did not wish at an +end before sun-set. Tell me, dear Idler, what I shall do. + +I am + +Your humble servant, + +TIM. RANGER. + + + + +No. 65. SATURDAY, JULY 14, 1759. + +This sequel of Clarendon's history, at last happily published, is an +accession to English literature equally agreeable to the admirers of +elegance and the lovers of truth; many doubtful facts may now be +ascertained, and many questions, after long debate, may be determined by +decisive authority. He that records transactions in which himself was +engaged, has not only an opportunity of knowing innumerable particulars +which escape spectators, but has his natural powers exalted by that +ardour which always rises at the remembrance of our own importance, and +by which every man is enabled to relate his own actions better than +another's. + +The difficulties through which this work has struggled into light, and +the delays with which our hopes have been long mocked, naturally lead +the mind to the consideration of the common fate of posthumous +compositions. + +He who sees himself surrounded by admirers, and whose vanity is hourly +feasted with all the luxuries of studied praise, is easily persuaded +that his influence will be extended beyond his life; that they who +cringe in his presence will reverence his memory, and that those who are +proud to be numbered among his friends, will endeavour to vindicate his +choice by zeal for his reputation. + +With hopes like these, to the executors of Swift was committed the +history of the last years of queen Anne, and to those of Pope, the works +which remained unprinted in his closet. The performances of Pope were +burnt by those whom he had, perhaps, selected from all mankind as most +likely to publish them; and the history had likewise perished, had not a +straggling transcript fallen into busy hands. + +The papers left in the closet of Pieresc supplied his heirs with a whole +winter's fuel; and many of the labours of the learned Bishop Lloyd were +consumed in the kitchen of his descendants. + +Some works, indeed, have escaped total destruction, but yet have had +reason to lament the fate of orphans exposed to the frauds of unfaithful +guardians. How Hale would have borne the mutilations which his Pleas of +the Crown have suffered from the editor, they who know his character +will easily conceive[1]. + +The original copy of Burnet's history, though promised to some publick +library[2], has been never given; and who then can prove the fidelity of +the publication, when the authenticity of Clarendon's history, though +printed with the sanction of one of the first universities of the world, +had not an unexpected manuscript been happily discovered, would, with +the help of factious credulity, have been brought into question by the +two lowest of all human beings, a scribbler for a party, and a +commissioner of excise[3]? + +Vanity is often no less mischievous than negligence or dishonesty. He +that possesses a valuable manuscript, hopes to raise its esteem by +concealment, and delights in the distinction which he imagines himself +to obtain by keeping the key of a treasure which he neither uses nor +imparts. From him it falls to some other owner, less vain but more +negligent, who considers it as useless lumber, and rids himself of the +encumbrance. + +Yet there are some works which the authors must consign unpublished to +posterity, however uncertain be the event, however hopeless be the +trust. He that writes the history of his own times, if he adheres +steadily to truth, will write that which his own times will not easily +endure. He must be content to reposite his book, till all private +passions shall cease, and love and hatred give way to curiosity. + +But many leave the labours of half their life to their executors and to +chance, because they will not send them abroad unfinished, and are +unable to finish them, having prescribed to themselves such a degree of +exactness as human diligence can scarcely attain. "Lloyd", says Burnet, +"did not lay out his learning with the same diligence as he laid it in." +He was always hesitating and inquiring, raising objections and removing +them, and waiting for clearer light and fuller discovery. Baker, after +many years passed in biography, left his manuscripts to be buried in a +library, because that was imperfect which could never be perfected. + +Of these learned men, let those who aspire to the same praise imitate +the diligence, and avoid the scrupulosity. Let it be always remembered +that life is short, that knowledge is endless, and that many doubts +deserve not to be cleared. Let those whom nature and study have +qualified to teach mankind, tell us what they have learned while they +are yet able to tell it, and trust their reputation only to themselves. + +[1] See Preface. + +[2] It would be proper to reposite, in some public place, the manuscript + of Clarendon, which has not escaped all suspicion of unfaithful + publication. + + The manuscript of Clarendon is now in the Bodleian library at + Oxford, and the editor of the present edition has it before him + while writing this note. He may likewise add, that a new and emended + edition is now printing from the original MS. at the Clarendon + press. December, 1824. + +[3] See Preface. + Dr. Johnson's hatred of the excise reminds us of John Wesley's + wailing philippic against turnpike gates, which he denounced as the + most cruel of impositions on the way-faring man. + + + + +No. 66. SATURDAY, JULY 21, 1759. + +No complaint is more frequently repeated among the learned, than that +of the waste made by time among the labours of antiquity. Of those who +once filled the civilized world with their renown, nothing is now left +but their names, which are left only to raise desires that never can be +satisfied, and sorrow which never can be comforted. + +Had all the writings of the ancients been faithfully delivered down from +age to age, had the Alexandrian library been spared, and the Palatine +repositories remained unimpaired, how much might we have known of which +we are now doomed to be ignorant! how many laborious inquiries, and dark +conjectures; how many collations of broken hints and mutilated passages +might have been spared! We should have known the successions of princes, +the revolutions of empires, the actions of the great, and opinions of +the wise, the laws and constitutions of every state, and the arts by +which publick grandeur and happiness are acquired and preserved; we +should have traced the progress of life, seen colonies from distant +regions take possession of European deserts, and troops of savages +settled into communities by the desire of keeping what they had +acquired; we should have traced the gradations of civility, and +travelled upward to the original of things by the light of history, till +in remoter times it had glimmered in fable, and at last sunk into +darkness. + +If the works of imagination had been less diminished, it is likely that +all future times might have been supplied with inexhaustible amusement +by the fictions of antiquity. The tragedies of Sophocles and Euripides +would all have shown the stronger passions in all their diversities; and +the comedies of Menander would have furnished all the maxims of +domestick life. Nothing would have been necessary to moral wisdom but to +have studied these great masters, whose knowledge would have guided +doubt, and whose authority would have silenced cavils. + +Such are the thoughts that rise in every student, when his curiosity is +eluded, and his searches are frustrated; yet it may, perhaps, be +doubted, whether our complaints are not sometimes inconsiderate, and +whether we do not imagine more evil than we feel. Of the ancients, +enough remains to excite our emulation and direct our endeavours. Many +of the works which time has left us, we know to have been these that +were most esteemed, and which antiquity itself considered as models; so +that, having the originals, we may without much regret lose the +imitations. The obscurity which the want of contemporary writers often +produces, only darkens single passages, and those commonly of slight +importance. The general tendency of every piece may be known; and though +that diligence deserves praise which leaves nothing unexamined, yet its +miscarriages are not much to be lamented; for the most useful truths are +always universal, and unconnected with accidents and customs. + +Such is the general conspiracy of human nature against contemporary +merit, that, if we had inherited from antiquity enough to afford +employment for the laborious, and amusement for the idle, I know not +what room would have been left for modern genius or modern industry; +almost every subject would have been pre-occupied, and every style would +have been fixed by a precedent from which few would have ventured to +depart. Every writer would have had a rival, whose superiority was +already acknowledged, and to whose fame his work would, even before it +was seen, be marked out for a sacrifice. + +We see how little the united experience of mankind hath been able to add +to the heroick characters displayed by Homer, and how few incidents the +fertile imagination of modern Italy has yet produced, which may not be +found in the Iliad and Odyssey. It is likely, that if all the works of +the Athenian philosophers had been extant, Malbranche and Locke would +have been condemned to be silent readers of the ancient metaphysicians; +and it is apparent, that, if the old writers had all remained, the Idler +could not have written a disquisition on the loss[1]. + +[1] There was a weighty meaning in that fiction of the Stoics, of a +grand periodic year, in which all events should be re-acted in the same +mode and order as before. There is nothing new under the sun. Whatever +is, or shall be, is only an imitation, or, at best, a re-production of +something that has been. The moralist who speculates on the +contingencies of human conduct can only divine the future from what has +already been acted on the earth. The philosopher, leaning on principles +which Science styles immutable, is confined within the narrow bounds of +created matter. Why then should Reason make us undervalue that +Revelation which carries us upwards to Creation's birth, and bears us +downward to a period when time shall be no longer? ED. + + + + +No. 67. SATURDAY, JULY 28, 1759. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Sir, + +In the observations which you have made on the various opinions and +pursuits of mankind, you must often, in literary conversations, have met +with men who consider dissipation as the great enemy of the intellect; +and maintain, that, in proportion as the student keeps himself within +the bounds of a settled plan, he will more certainly advance in science. + +This opinion is, perhaps, generally true; yet, when we contemplate the +inquisitive nature of the human mind, and its perpetual impatience of +all restraint, it may be doubted whether the faculties may not be +contracted by confining the attention; and whether it may not sometimes +be proper to risk the certainty of little for the chance of much. +Acquisitions of knowledge, like blazes of genius, are often fortuitous. +Those who had proposed to themselves a methodical course of reading, +light by accident on a new book, which seizes their thoughts and kindles +their curiosity, and opens an unexpected prospect, to which the way +which they had prescribed to themselves would never have conducted them. + +To enforce and illustrate my meaning, I have sent you a journal of three +days' employment, found among the papers of a late intimate +acquaintance; who, as will plainly appear, was a man of vast designs, +and of vast performances, though he sometimes designed one thing, and +performed another. I allow that the Spectator's inimitable productions +of this kind may well discourage all subsequent journalists; but, as the +subject of this is different from that of any which the Spectator has +given us, I leave it to you to publish or suppress it. + +Mem. The following three days I purpose to give up to reading; and +intend, after all the delays which have obtruded themselves upon me, to +finish my Essay on the Extent of the Mental powers; to revise my +Treatise on Logick; to begin the Epick which I have long projected; to +proceed in my perusal of the Scriptures with Grotius's Comment; and at +my leisure to regale myself with the works of classicks, ancient and +modern, and to finish my Ode to Astronomy. + +Monday.] Designed to rise at six, but, by my servant's laziness, my fire +was not lighted before eight, when I dropped into a slumber that lasted +till nine; at which time I arose, and, after breakfast, at ten, sat down +to study, purposing to begin upon my Essay; but, finding occasion to +consult a passage in Plato, was absorbed in the perusal of the Republick +till twelve. I had neglected to forbid company, and now enters Tom +Careless, who, after half an hour's chat, insisted upon my going with +him to enjoy an absurd character, that he had appointed, by an +advertisement, to meet him at a particular coffee-house. After we had +for some time entertained ourselves with him, we sallied out, designing +each to repair to his home; but, as it fell out, coming up in the street +to a man whose steel by his side declared him a butcher, we overheard +him opening an address to a genteelish sort of young lady, whom he +walked with: "Miss, though your father is master of a coal-lighter, and +you will be a great fortune, 'tis true; yet I wish I may be cut into +quarters if it is not only love, and not lucre of gain, that is my +motive for offering terms of marriage." As this lover proceeded in his +speech, he misled us the length of three streets, in admiration at the +unlimited power of the tender passion, that could soften even the heart +of a butcher. We then adjourned to a tavern, and from thence to one of +the publick gardens, where I was regaled with a most amusing variety of +men possessing great talents, so discoloured by affectation, that they +only made them eminently ridiculous; shallow things, who, by continual +dissipation, had annihilated the few ideas nature had given them, and +yet were celebrated for wonderful pretty gentlemen; young ladies +extolled for their wit, because they were handsome; illiterate empty +women as well as men, in high life, admired for their knowledge, from +their being resolutely positive; and women of real understanding so far +from pleasing the polite million, that they frightened them away, and +were left solitary. When we quitted this entertaining scene, Tom pressed +me, irresistibly, to sup with him. I reached home at twelve, and then +reflected, that, though indeed I had, by remarking various characters, +improved my insight into human nature, yet still I had neglected the +studies proposed, and accordingly took up my Treatise on Logick, to give +it the intended revisal, but found my spirits too much agitated, and +could not forbear a few satirical lines, under the title of The +Evening's Walk. + +Tuesday.] At breakfast, seeing my Ode to Astronomy lying on my desk, I +was struck with a train of ideas, that I thought might contribute to its +improvement. I immediately rang my bell to forbid all visitants, when my +servant opened the door, with, "Sir, Mr. Jeffery Gape." My cup dropped +out of one hand, and my poem out of the other. I could scarcely ask him +to sit; he told me he was going to walk, but, as there was a likelihood +of rain, he would sit with me; he said, he intended at first to have +called at Mr. Vacant's, but as he had not seen me a great while, he did +not mind coming out of his way to wait on me; I made him a bow, but +thanks for the favour stuck in my throat. I asked him if he had been to +the coffee-house; he replied, Two hours. + +Under the oppression of this dull interruption, I sat looking wishfully +at the clock; for which, to increase my satisfaction, I had chosen the +inscription, "Art is long, and life is short;" exchanging questions and +answers at long intervals, and not without some hints that the +weather-glass promised fair weather. At half an hour after three he told +me he would trespass on me for a dinner, and desired me to send to his +house for a bundle of papers, about inclosing a common upon his estate, +which he would read to me in the evening. I declared myself busy, and Mr. +Gape went away. + +Having dined, to compose my chagrin I took up Virgil, and several other +classicks, but could not calm my mind, or proceed in my scheme. At about +five I laid my hand on a Bible that lay on my table, at first with +coldness and insensibility; but was imperceptibly engaged in a close +attention to its sublime morality, and felt my heart expanded by warm +philanthropy, and exalted to dignity of sentiment. I then censured my +too great solicitude, and my disgust conceived at my acquaintance, who +had been so far from designing to offend, that he only meant to show +kindness and respect. In this strain of mind I wrote An Essay on +Benevolence, and An Elegy on Sublunary Disappointments. When I had +finished these, at eleven, I supped, and recollected how little I had +adhered to my plan, and almost questioned the possibility of pursuing +any settled and uniform design; however, I was not so far persuaded of +the truth of these suggestions, but that I resolved to try once more at +my scheme. As I observed the moon shining through my window, from a calm +and bright sky spangled with innumerable stars, I indulged a pleasing +meditation on the splendid scene, and finished my Ode to Astronomy. + +Wednesday.] Rose at seven, and employed three hours in perusal of the +Scriptures with Grotius's Comment; and after breakfast fell into +meditation concerning my projected Epick; and being in some doubt as to +the particular lives of some heroes, whom I proposed to celebrate, I +consulted Bayle and Moreri, and was engaged two hours in examining +various lives and characters, but then resolved to go to my employment. +When I was seated at my desk, and began to feel the glowing succession +of poetical ideas, my servant brought me a letter from a lawyer, +requiring my instant attendance at Gray's Inn for half an hour. I went +full of vexation, and was involved in business till eight at night; and +then, being too much fatigued to study, supped, and went to bed. + +Here my friend's Journal concludes, which, perhaps, is pretty much a +picture of the manner in which many prosecute their studies. I therefore +resolved to send it you, imagining, that, if you think it worthy of +appearing in your paper, some of your readers may receive entertainment +by recognising a resemblance between my friend's conduct and their own. +It must be left to the Idler accurately to ascertain the proper methods +of advancing in literature; but this one position, deducible from what +has been said above, may, I think, be reasonably asserted, that he who +finds himself strongly attracted to any particular study, though it may +happen to be out of his proposed scheme, if it is not trifling or +vicious, had better continue his application to it, since it is likely +that he will, with much more ease and expedition, attain that which a +warm inclination stimulates him to pursue, than that at which a +prescribed law compels him to toil.[1] + +I am, &c. + +[1] This paper, which is evidently throughout allusive to the Idler's + own broken resolutions, was the composition of Bennet Langton, for + whom Johnson cherished the fondest regard. In his admiration he + ventured even to exclaim, "Sit anima mea cum Langtono." Boswell, + iv.--ED. + + + + +No. 68. SATURDAY, AUGUST 4, 1759. + +Among the studies which have exercised the ingenious and the learned for +more than three centuries, none has been more diligently or more +successfully cultivated than the art of translation; by which the +impediments which bar the way to science are, in some measure, removed, +and the multiplicity of languages become less incommodious. + +Of every other kind of writing the ancients have left us models which +all succeeding ages have laboured to imitate; but translation may justly +be claimed by the moderns as their own. In the first ages of the world +instruction was commonly oral, and learning traditional, and what was +not written could not be translated. When alphabetical writing made the +conveyance of opinions and the transmission of events more easy and +certain, literature did not flourish in more than one country at once, +or distant nations had little commerce with each other; and those few +whom curiosity sent abroad in quest of improvement, delivered their +acquisitions in their own manner, desirous, perhaps, to be considered as +the inventors of that which they had learned from others. + +The Greeks for a time travelled into Egypt, but they translated no books +from the Egyptian language; and when the Macedonians had overthrown the +empire of Persia, the countries that became subject to Grecian dominion +studied only the Grecian literature. The books of the conquered nations, +if they had any among them, sunk into oblivion; Greece considered +herself as the mistress, if not as the parent of arts, her language +contained all that was supposed to be known, and, except the sacred +writings of the Old Testament, I know not that the library of Alexandria +adopted any thing from a foreign tongue. + +The Romans confessed themselves the scholars of the Greeks, and do not +appear to have expected, what has since happened, that the ignorance of +succeeding ages would prefer them to their teachers. Every man, who in +Rome aspired to the praise of literature, thought it necessary to learn +Greek, and had no need of versions when they could study the originals. +Translation, however, was not wholly neglected. Dramatick poems could be +understood by the people in no language but their own, and the Romans +were sometimes entertained with the tragedies of Euripides and the +comedies of Menander. Other works were sometimes attempted; in an old +scholiast there is mention of a Latin Iliad; and we have not wholly lost +Tully's version of the poem of Aratus; but it does not appear that any +man grew eminent by interpreting another, and perhaps it was more +frequent to translate for exercise or amusement, than for fame. + +The Arabs were the first nation who felt the ardour of translation: when +they had subdued the eastern provinces of the Greek empire, they found +their captives wiser than themselves, and made haste to relieve their +wants by imparted knowledge. They discovered that many might grow wise +by the labour of a few, and that improvements might be made with speed, +when they had the knowledge of former ages in their own language. They, +therefore, made haste to lay hold on medicine end philosophy, and turned +their chief authors into Arabick[1]. Whether they attempted the poets is +not known; their literary zeal was vehement, but it was short, and +probably expired before they had time to add the arts of elegance to +those of necessity. + +The study of ancient literature was interrupted in Europe by the +irruption of the Northern nations, who subverted the Roman empire, and +erected new kingdoms with new languages. It is not strange that such +confusion should suspend literary attention; those who lost, and those +who gained dominion, had immediate difficulties to encounter, and +immediate miseries to redress, and had little leisure, amidst the +violence of war, the trepidation of flight, the distresses of forced +migration, or the tumults of unsettled conquest, to inquire after +speculative truth, to enjoy the amusement of imaginary adventures, to +know the history of former ages, or study the events of any other lives. +But no sooner had this chaos of dominion sunk into order, than learning +began again to flourish in the calm of peace. When life and possessions +were secure, convenience and enjoyment were soon sought, learning was +found the highest gratification of the mind, and translation became one +of the means by which it was imparted. + +At last, by a concurrence of many causes, the European world was roused +from its lethargy; those arts which had been long obscurely studied in +the gloom of monasteries became the general favourites of mankind; every +nation vied with its neighbour for the prize of learning; the epidemical +emulation spread from south to north, and curiosity and translation +found their way to Britain. + +[1] Some popular information on the interesting subject of Arabian +Literature, is collected in the third part of Harris's Philological +Inquiries. Mr. Hallam's History of the Middle Ages is a rich storehouse +for these points.--ED. + + + + +No. 69. SATURDAY, AUGUST 11, 1759. + +He that reviews the progress of English literature, will find that +translation was very early cultivated among us, but that some +principles, either wholly erroneous or too far extended, hindered our +success from being always equal to our diligence. + +Chaucer, who is generally considered as the father of our poetry, has +left a version of Boethius on the Comforts of Philosophy, the book which +seems to have been the favourite of the middle ages, which had been +translated into Saxon by King Alfred, and illustrated with a copious +comment ascribed to Aquinas. It may be supposed that Chaucer would apply +more than common attention to an author of so much celebrity, yet he has +attempted nothing higher than a version strictly literal, and has +degraded the poetical parts to prose, that the constraint of +versification might not obstruct his zeal for fidelity. + +Caxton taught us typography about the year 1474. The first book printed +in English was a translation. Caxton was both the translator and printer +of the Destruction of Troye; a book which, in that infancy of learning, +was considered as the best account of the fabulous ages, and which, +though now driven out of notice by authors of no greater use or value, +still continued to be read in Caxton's English to the beginning of the +present century. + +Caxton proceeded as he began, and, except the poems of Gower and +Chaucer, printed nothing but translations from the French, in which the +original is so scrupulously followed, that they afford us little +knowledge of our own language: though the words are English, the phrase +is foreign. + +As learning advanced, new works were adopted into our language, but I +think with little improvement of the art of translation, though foreign +nations and other languages offered us models of a better method; till +in the age of Elizabeth we began to find that greater liberty was +necessary to elegance, and that elegance was necessary to general +reception; some essays were then made upon the Italian poets, which +deserve the praise and gratitude of posterity. + +But the old practice was not suddenly forsaken: Holland filled the +nation with literal translation; and, what is yet more strange, the same +exactness was obstinately practised in the versions of the poets. This +absurd labour of construing into rhyme was countenanced by Jonson in his +version of Horace; and whether it be that more men have learning than +genius, or that the endeavours of that time were more directed towards +knowledge than delight, the accuracy of Jonson found more imitators than +the elegance of Fairfax; and May, Sandys and Holiday, confined +themselves to the toil of rendering line for line, not indeed with equal +felicity, for May and Sandys were poets, and Holiday only a scholar and +a critick. + +Feltham appears to consider it as the established law of poetical +translation, that the lines should be neither more nor fewer than those +of the original; and so long had this prejudice prevailed, that Denham +praises Fanshaw's version of Guarini as the example of a _new and noble +way_, as the first attempt to break the boundaries of custom, and assert +the natural freedom of the Muse. + +In the general emulation of wit and genius which the festivity of the +Restoration produced, the poets shook off their constraint, and +considered translation as no longer confined to servile closeness. But +reformation is seldom the work of pure virtue or unassisted reason. +Translation was improved more by accident than conviction. The writers +of the foregoing age had at least learning equal to their genius; and, +being often more able to explain the sentiments or illustrate the +allusions of the ancients, than to exhibit their graces and transfuse +their spirit, were, perhaps, willing sometimes to conceal their want of +poetry by profusion of literature, and, therefore, translated literally, +that their fidelity might shelter their insipidity or harshness. The +wits of Charles's time had seldom more than slight and superficial +views; and their care was to hide their want of learning behind the +colours of a gay imagination; they, therefore, translated always with +freedom, sometimes with licentiousness, and, perhaps, expected that +their readers should accept sprightliness for knowledge, and consider +ignorance and mistake as the impatience and negligence of a mind too +rapid to stop at difficulties, and too elevated to descend to +minuteness. + +Thus was translation made more easy to the writer, and more delightful +to the reader; and there is no wonder if ease and pleasure have found +their advocates. The paraphrastick liberties have been almost +universally admitted; and Sherbourn, whose learning was eminent, and who +had no need of any excuse to pass slightly over obscurities, is the only +writer who, in later times, has attempted to justify or revive the +ancient severity. + +There is undoubtedly a mean to be observed. Dryden saw very early that +closeness best preserved an author's sense, and that freedom best +exhibited his spirit; he, therefore, will deserve the highest praise, +who can give a representation at once faithful and pleasing, who can +convey the same thoughts with the same graces, and who, when he +translates, changes nothing but the language[1]. + +[1] Much research on this branch of literature is exhibited in Lord + Woodhouselee's Principles of Translation. + + + + +No. 70. SATURDAY, AUGUST 18, 1759. + +Few faults of style, whether real or imaginary, excite the malignity of +a more numerous class of readers, than the use of hard words. + +If an author be supposed to involve his thoughts in voluntary obscurity, +and to obstruct, by unnecessary difficulties, a mind eager in pursuit of +truth; if he writes not to make others learned, but to boast the +learning which he possesses himself, and wishes to be admired rather +than understood, he counteracts the first end of writing, and justly +suffers the utmost severity of censure, or the more afflictive severity +of neglect. + +But words are hard only to those who do not understand them; and the +critick ought always to inquire, whether he is incommoded by the fault +of the writer or by his own. + +Every author does not write for every reader; many questions are such as +the illiterate part of mankind can have neither interest nor pleasure in +discussing, and which, therefore, it would be an useless endeavour to +level with common minds, by tiresome circumlocutions or laborious +explanations; and many subjects of general use may be treated in a +different manner, as the book is intended for the learned or the +ignorant. Diffusion and explication are necessary to the instruction of +those who, being neither able nor accustomed to think for themselves, +can learn only what is expressly taught; but they who can form +parallels, discover consequences, and multiply conclusions, are best +pleased with involution of argument and compression of thought; they +desire only to receive the seeds of knowledge which they may branch out +by their own power, to have the way to truth pointed out, which they can +then follow without a guide. + +The Guardian directs one of his pupils, "to think with the wise, but +speak with the vulgar." This is a precept specious enough, but not +always practicable. Difference of thoughts will produce difference of +language. He that thinks with more extent than another will want words +of larger meaning; he that thinks with more subtilty will seek for terms +of more nice discrimination; and where is the wonder, since words are +but the images of things, that he who never knew the original should not +know the copies? + +Yet vanity inclines us to find faults any where rather than in +ourselves. He that reads and grows no wiser, seldom suspects his own +deficiency; but complains of hard words and obscure sentences, and asks +why books are written which cannot be understood? + +Among the hard words which are no longer to be used, it has been long +the custom to number terms of art. "Every man," says Swift, "is more +able to explain the subject of an art than its professors; a farmer will +tell you, in two words, that he has broken his leg; but a surgeon, after +a long discourse, shall leave you as ignorant as you were before." This +could only have been said, by such an exact observer of life, in +gratification of malignity, or in ostentation of acuteness. Every hour +produces instances of the necessity of terms of art. Mankind could never +conspire in uniform affectation; it is not but by necessity that every +science and every trade has its peculiar language. They that content +themselves with general ideas may rest in general terms; but those, +whose studies or employments force them upon closer inspection, must +have names for particular parts, and words by which they may express +various modes of combination, such as none but themselves have occasion +to consider. + +Artists are indeed sometimes ready to suppose that none can be strangers +to words to which themselves are familiar, talk to an incidental +inquirer as they talk to one another, and make their knowledge +ridiculous by injudicious obtrusion. An art cannot be taught but by its +proper terms, but it is not always necessary to teach the art. + +That the vulgar express their thoughts clearly, is far from true; and +what perspicuity can be found among them proceeds not from the easiness +of their language, but the shallowness of their thoughts. He that sees a +building as a common spectator, contents himself with relating that it +is great or little, mean or splendid, lofty or low; all these words are +intelligible and common, but they convey no distinct or limited ideas; +if he attempts, without the terms of architecture, to delineate the +parts, or enumerate the ornaments, his narration at once becomes +unintelligible. The terms, indeed, generally displease, because they are +understood by few; but they are little understood, only because few that +look upon an edifice examine its parts, or analyze its columns into +their members. + +The state of every other art is the same; as it is cursorily surveyed or +accurately examined, different forms of expression become proper. In +morality it is one thing to discuss the niceties of the casuist, and +another to direct the practice of common life. In agriculture, he that +instructs the farmer to plough and sow, may convey his notions without +the words which he would find necessary in explaining to philosophers +the process of vegetation; and if he, who has nothing to do but to be +honest by the shortest way, will perplex his mind with subtile +speculations; or if he, whose task is to reap and thrash, will not be +contented without examining the evolution of the seed and circulation of +the sap; the writers whom either shall consult are very little to be +blamed, though it should sometimes happen that they are read in vain. + + + + +No. 71. SATURDAY, AUGUST 25, 1759. + + Celan le selve angui, leoni, ed orsi + Dentro il lor verde. TASSO, L'AMINTA. + +Dick Shifter was born in Cheapside, and, having passed reputably through +all the classes of St. Paul's school, has been for some years a student +in the Temple. He is of opinion, that intense application dulls the +faculties, and thinks it necessary to temper the severity of the law by +books that engage the mind, but do not fatigue it. He has, therefore, +made a copious collection of plays, poems, and romances, to which he has +recourse when he fancies himself tired with statutes and reports; and he +seldom inquires very nicely whether he is weary or idle. + +Dick has received from his favourite authors very strong impressions of +a country life; and though his furthest excursions have been to +Greenwich on one side, and Chelsea on the other, he has talked for +several years, with great pomp of language and elevation of sentiments, +about a state too high for contempt and too low for envy, about homely +quiet and blameless simplicity, pastoral delights and rural innocence. + +His friends, who, had estates in the country, often invited him to pass +the summer among them, but something or other had always hindered him; +and he considered, that to reside in the house of another man was to +incur a kind of dependence inconsistent with that laxity of life which +he had imaged as the chief good. + +This summer he resolved to be happy, and procured a lodging to be taken +for him at a solitary house, situated about thirty miles from London, on +the banks of a small river, with corn-fields before it and a hill on +each side covered with wood. He concealed the place of his retirement, +that none might violate his obscurity, and promised himself many a happy +day when he should hide himself among the trees, and contemplate the +tumults and vexations of the town. + +He stepped into the post-chaise with his heart beating and his eyes +sparkling, was conveyed through many varieties of delightful prospects, +saw hills and meadows, cornfields and pasture, succeed each other, and +for four hours charged none of his poets with fiction or exaggeration. +He was now within six miles of happiness, when, having never felt so +much agitation before, he began to wish his journey at an end, and the +last hour was passed in changing his posture and quarrelling with his +driver. + +An hour may be tedious, but cannot be long. He at length alighted at his +new dwelling, and was received as he expected; he looked round upon the +hills and rivulets, but his joints were stiff and his muscles sore, and +his first request was to see his bed-chamber. + +He rested well, and ascribed the soundness of his sleep to the stillness +of the country. He expected from that time nothing but nights of quiet +and days of rapture, and, as soon as he had risen, wrote an account of +his new state to one of his friends in the Temple. + +"Dear Frank, + +"I never pitied thee before. I am now, as I could wish every man of +wisdom and virtue to be, in the regions of calm content and placid +meditation; with all the beauties of nature soliciting my notice, and +all the diversities of pleasure courting my acceptance; the birds are +chirping in the hedges, and the flowers blooming in the mead; the breeze +is whistling in the wood, and the sun dancing on the water. I can now +say, with truth, that a man, capable of enjoying the purity of +happiness, is never more busy than in his hours of leisure, nor ever +less solitary than in a place of solitude. + +I am, dear Frank, &c." + +When he had sent away his letter, he walked into the wood, with some +inconvenience, from the furze that pricked his legs, and the briars that +scratched his face. He at last sat down under a tree, and heard with +great delight a shower, by which he was not wet, rattling among the +branches: This, said he, is the true image of obscurity; we hear of +troubles and commotions, but never feel them. + +His amusement did not overpower the calls of nature, and he, therefore, +went back to order his dinner. He knew that the country produces +whatever is eaten or drunk, and, imagining that he was now at the source +of luxury, resolved to indulge himself with dainties which he supposed +might be procured at a price next to nothing, if any price at all was +expected; and intended to amaze the rusticks with his generosity, by +paying more than they would ask. Of twenty dishes which he named, he was +amazed to find that scarcely one was to be had; and heard, with +astonishment and indignation, that all the fruits of the earth were sold +at a higher price than in the streets of London. + +His meal was short and sullen; and he retired again to his tree, to +inquire how dearness could be consistent with abundance, or how fraud +should be practised by simplicity. He was not satisfied with his own +speculations, and, returning home early in the evening, went a while +from window to window, and found that he wanted something to do. + +He inquired for a newspaper, and was told that farmers never minded +news, but that they could send for it from the alehouse. A messenger was +despatched, who ran away at full speed, but loitered an hour behind the +hedges, and at last coming back with his feet purposely bemired, instead +of expressing the gratitude which Mr. Shifter expected for the bounty of +a shilling, said, that the night was wet, and the way dirty, and he +hoped that his worship would not think it much to give him half-a-crown. + +Dick now went to bed with some abatement of his expectations; but sleep, +I know not how, revives our hopes, and rekindles our desires. He rose +early in the morning, surveyed the landscape, and was pleased. He walked +out, and passed from field to field, without observing any beaten path, +and wondered that he had not seen the shepherdesses dancing, nor heard +the swains piping to their flocks. + +At last he saw some reapers and harvest-women at dinner. Here, said he, +are the true Arcadians; and advanced courteously towards them, as afraid +of confusing them by the dignity of his presence. They acknowledged his +superiority by no other token than that of asking him for something to +drink. He imagined that he had now purchased the privilege of discourse, +and began to descend to familiar questions, endeavouring to accommodate +his discourse to the grossness of rustick understandings. The clowns +soon found, that he did not know wheat from rye, and began to despise +him; one of the boys, by pretending to show him a bird's nest, decoyed +him into a ditch; and one of the wenches sold him a bargain. + +This walk had given him no great pleasure; but he hoped to find other +rusticks less coarse of manners, and less mischievous of disposition. +Next morning he was accosted by an attorney, who told him that, unless +he made farmer Dobson satisfaction for trampling his grass, he had +orders to indict him. Shifter was offended, but not terrified; and, +telling the attorney that he was himself a lawyer, talked so volubly of +pettyfoggers and barrators, that he drove him away. + +Finding his walks thus interrupted, he was inclined to ride, and, being +pleased with the appearance of a horse that was grazing in a +neighbouring meadow, inquired the owner, who warranted him sound, and +would not sell him, but that he was too fine for a plain man. Dick paid +down the price, and, riding out to enjoy the evening, fell with his new +horse into a ditch; they got out with difficulty, and, as he was going +to mount again, a countryman looked at the horse, and perceived him to +be blind. Dick went to the seller, and demanded back his money; but was +told, that a man who rented his ground must do the best for himself; +that his landlord had his rent though the year was barren; and that, +whether horses had eyes or no, he should sell them to the highest +bidder. + +Shifter now began to be tired with rustick simplicity, and on the fifth +day took possession again of his chambers, and bade farewell to the +regions of calm content and placid meditation. + + + + +No. 72. SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 1, 1759. + +Men complain of nothing more frequently than of deficient memory; and, +indeed, every one finds that many of the ideas which he desired to +retain have slipped irretrievably away; that the acquisitions of the +mind are sometimes equally fugitive with the gifts of fortune; and that +a short intermission of attention more certainly lessens knowledge than +impairs an estate. + +To assist this weakness of our nature, many methods have been proposed, +all of which may be justly suspected of being ineffectual; for no art of +memory, however its effects have been boasted or admired, has been ever +adopted into general use, nor have those who possessed it appeared to +excel others in readiness of recollection or multiplicity of +attainments. + +There is another art of which all have felt the want, though +Themistocles only confessed it. We suffer equal pain from the +pertinacious adhesion of unwelcome images, as from the evanescence of +those which are pleasing and useful; and it may be doubted whether we +should be more benefited by the art of memory or the art of +forgetfulness. + +Forgetfulness is necessary to remembrance. Ideas are retained by +renovation of that impression which time is always wearing away, and +which new images are striving to obliterate. If useless thoughts could +be expelled from the mind, all the valuable parts of our knowledge would +more frequently recur, and every recurrence would reinstate them in +their former place. + +It is impossible to consider, without some regret, how much might have +been learned, or how much might have been invented, by a rational and +vigorous application of time, uselessly or painfully passed in the +revocation of events, which have left neither good nor evil behind them, +in grief for misfortunes either repaired or irreparable, in resentment +of injuries known only to ourselves, of which death has put the authors +beyond our power. + +Philosophy has accumulated precept upon precept, to warn us against the +anticipation of future calamities. All useless misery is certainly +folly, and he that feels evils before they come may be deservedly +censured; yet surely to dread the future is more reasonable than to +lament the past. The business of life is to go forwards: he who sees +evil in prospect meets it in his way; but he who catches it by +retrospection turns back to find it. That which is feared may sometimes +be avoided, but that which is regretted to-day may be regretted again +to-morrow. + +Regret is indeed useful and virtuous, and not only allowable but +necessary, when it tends to the amendment of life, or to admonition of +errour which we may be again in danger of committing. But a very small +part of the moments spent in meditation on the past, produce any +reasonable caution or salutary sorrow. Most of the mortifications that +we have suffered, arose from the concurrence of local and temporary +circumstances, which can never meet again; and most of our +disappointments have succeeded those expectations, which life allows not +to be formed a second time. + +It would add much to human happiness, if an art could be taught of +forgetting all of which the remembrance is at once useless and +afflictive; if that pain which never can end in pleasure could be driven +totally away, that the mind might perform its functions without +incumbrance, and the past might no longer encroach upon the present. + +Little can be done well to which the whole mind is not applied; the +business of every day calls for the day to which it is assigned; and he +will have no leisure to regret yesterday's vexations who resolves not to +have a new subject of regret to-morrow. + +But to forget or to remember at pleasure, are equally beyond the power +of man. Yet as memory may be assisted by method, and the decays of +knowledge repaired by stated times of recollection, so the power of +forgetting is capable of improvement. Reason will, by a resolute +contest, prevail over imagination, and the power may be obtained of +transferring the attention as judgment shall direct. + +The incursions of troublesome thoughts are often violent and +importunate; and it is not easy to a mind accustomed to their inroads to +expel them immediately by putting better images into motion; but this +enemy of quiet is above all others weakened by every defeat; the +reflection which has been once overpowered and ejected, seldom returns +with any formidable vehemence. + +Employment is the great instrument of intellectual dominion. The mind +cannot retire from its enemy into total vacancy, or turn aside from one +object but by passing to another. The gloomy and the resentful are +always found among those who have nothing to do, or who do nothing. We +must be busy about good or evil, and he to whom the present offers +nothing will often be looking backward on the past. + + + + +No. 73. SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 8, 1759. + + That every man would be rich if a wish could obtain riches, is a +position which I believe few will contest, at least in a nation like +ours, in which commerce has kindled an universal emulation of wealth, +and in which money receives all the honours which are the proper right +of knowledge and of virtue. + +Yet, though we are all labouring for gold as for the chief good, and, by +the natural effort of unwearied diligence, have found many expeditious +methods of obtaining it, we have not been able to improve the art of +using it, or to make it produce more happiness than it afforded in +former times, when every declaimer expatiated on its mischiefs, and +every philosopher taught his followers to despise it. + +Many of the dangers imputed of old to exorbitant wealth, are now at an +end. The rich are neither waylaid by robbers, nor watched by informers; +there is nothing to be dreaded from proscriptions, or seizures. The +necessity of concealing treasure has long ceased; no man now needs +counterfeit mediocrity, and condemn his plate and jewels to caverns and +darkness, or feast his mind with the consciousness of clouded splendour, +of finery which is useless till it is shown, and which he dares not +show. + +In our time, the poor are strongly tempted to assume the appearance of +wealth, but the wealthy very rarely desire to be thought poor; for we +are all at full liberty to display riches by every mode of ostentation. +We fill our houses with useless ornaments, only to show that we can buy +them; we cover our coaches with gold, and employ artists in the +discovery of new fashions of expense; and yet it cannot be found that +riches produce happiness. + +Of riches, as of every thing else, the hope is more than the enjoyment: +while we consider them as the means to be used, at some future time, for +the attainment of felicity, we press on our pursuit ardently and +vigorously, and that ardour secures us from weariness of ourselves; but +no sooner do we sit down to enjoy our acquisitions, than we find them +insufficient to fill up the vacuities of life. + +One cause which is not always observed of the insufficiency of riches +is, that they very seldom make their owner rich. To be rich, is to have +more than is desired, and more than is wanted, to have something which +may be spent without reluctance, and scattered without care, with which +the sudden demands of desire may be gratified, the casual freaks of +fancy indulged, or the unexpected opportunities of benevolence improved. + +Avarice is always poor, but poor by her own fault. There is another +poverty to which the rich are exposed with less guilt by the +officiousness of others. Every man, eminent for exuberance of fortune, +is surrounded from morning to evening, and from evening to midnight, by +flatterers, whose art of adulation consists in exciting artificial +wants, and in forming new schemes of profusion. + +Tom Tranquil, when he came to age, found himself in possession of a +fortune, of which the twentieth part might perhaps have made him rich. +His temper is easy, and his affections soft; he receives every man with +kindness, and hears him with credulity. His friends took care to settle +him by giving him a wife, whom, having no particular inclination, he +rather accepted than chose, because he was told that she was proper for +him. + +He was now to live with dignity proportionate to his fortune. What his +fortune requires or admits Tom does not know, for he has little skill in +computation, and none of his friends think it their interest to improve +it. If he was suffered to live by his own choice, he would leave every +thing as he finds it, and pass through the world distinguished only by +inoffensive gentleness. But the ministers of luxury have marked him out +as one at whose expense they may exercise their arts. A companion, who +had just learned the names of the Italian masters, runs from sale to +sale, and buys pictures, for which Mr. Tranquil pays, without inquiring +where they shall be hung. Another fills his garden with statues, which +Tranquil wishes away, but dares not remove. One of his friends is +learning architecture by building him a house, which he passed by, and +inquired to whom it belonged; another has been for three years digging +canals and raising mounts, cutting trees down in one place, and planting +them in another, on which Tranquil looks with a serene indifference, +without asking what will be the cost. Another projector tells him that a +waterwork, like that of Versailles, will complete the beauties of his +seat, and lays his draughts before him: Tranquil turns his eyes upon +them, and the artist begins his explanations; Tranquil raises no +objections, but orders him to begin the work, that he may escape from +talk which he does not understand. + +Thus a thousand hands are busy at his expense, without adding to his +pleasures. He pays and receives visits, and has loitered in publick or +in solitude, talking in summer of the town, and in winter of the +country, without knowing that his fortune is impaired, till his steward +told him this morning, that he could pay the workmen no longer but by +mortgaging a manor. + + + + +No. 74. SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 15, 1759. + +In the mythological pedigree of learning, memory is made the mother of +the muses, by which the masters of ancient wisdom, perhaps, meant to +show the necessity of storing the mind copiously with true notions, +before the imagination should be suffered to form fictions or collect +embellishments; for the works of an ignorant poet can afford nothing +higher than pleasing sound, and fiction is of no other use than to +display the treasures of memory. + +The necessity of memory to the acquisition of knowledge is inevitably +felt and universally allowed, so that scarcely any other of the mental +faculties are commonly considered as necessary to a student: he that +admires the proficiency of another, always attributes it to the +happiness of his memory; and he that laments his own defects, concludes +with a wish that his memory was better. + +It is evident, that when the power of retention is weak, all the +attempts at eminence of knowledge must be vain; and as few are willing +to be doomed to perpetual ignorance, I may, perhaps, afford consolation +to some that have fallen too easily into despondence, by observing that +such weakness is, in my opinion, very rare, and that few have reason to +complain of nature as unkindly sparing of the gifts of memory. + +In the common business of life, we find the memory of one like that of +another, and honestly impute omissions not to involuntary forgetfulness, +but culpable inattention; but in literary inquiries, failure is imputed +rather to want of memory than of diligence. + +We consider ourselves as defective in memory, either because we remember +less than we desire, or less than we suppose others to remember. + +Memory is like all other human powers, with which no man can be +satisfied who measures them by what he can conceive, or by what he can +desire. He whose mind is most capacious, finds it much too narrow for +his wishes; he that remembers most, remembers little compared with what +he forgets. He, therefore, that, after the perusal of a book, finds few +ideas remaining in his mind, is not to consider the disappointment as +peculiar to himself, or to resign all hopes of improvement, because he +does not retain what even the author has, perhaps, forgotten. + +He who compares his memory with that of others, is often too hasty to +lament the inequality. Nature has sometimes, indeed, afforded examples +of enormous, wonderful and gigantick memory. Scaliger reports of +himself, that, in his youth, he could repeat above a hundred verses, +having once read them; and Barthicus declares, that he wrote his comment +upon Claudian without consulting the text. But not to have such degrees +of memory is no more to be lamented, than not to have the strength of +Hercules, or the swiftness of Achilles. He that, in the distribution of +good, has an equal share with common men, may justly be contented. Where +there is no striking disparity, it is difficult to know of two which +remembers most, and still more difficult to discover which reads with +greater attention, which has renewed the first impression by more +frequent repetitions, or by what accidental combination of ideas either +mind might have united any particular narrative or argument to its +former stock. + +But memory, however impartially distributed, so often deceives our +trust, that almost every man attempts, by some artifice or other, to +secure its fidelity. + +It is the practice of many readers to note, in the margin of their +books, the most important passages, the strongest arguments, or the +brightest sentiments. Thus they load their minds with superfluous +attention, repress the vehemence of curiosity by useless deliberation, +and by frequent interruption break the current of narration or the chain +of reason, and at last close the volume, and forget the passages and +marks together. + +Others I have found unalterably persuaded, that nothing is certainly +remembered but what is transcribed; and they have, therefore, passed +weeks and months in transferring large quotations to a commonplace-book. +Yet, why any part of a book, which can be consulted at pleasure, should +be copied, I was never able to discover. The hand has no closer +correspondence with the memory than the eye. The act of writing itself +distracts the thoughts, and what is read twice is commonly better +remembered than what is transcribed. This method, therefore, consumes +time without assisting memory. + +The true art of memory is the art of attention. No man will read with +much advantage, who is not able, at pleasure, to evacuate his mind, or +who brings not to his author an intellect defecated and pure, neither +turbid with care, nor agitated by pleasure. If the repositories of +thought are already full, what can they receive? If the mind is employed +on the past or future, the book will be held before the eyes in vain. +What is read with delight is commonly retained, because pleasure always +secures attention; but the books which are consulted by occasional +necessity, and perused with impatience, seldom leave any traces on the +mind. + + + + +No. 75. SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 22, 1759. + +In the time when Bassora was considered as the school of Asia, and +flourished by the reputation of its professors and the confluence of its +students, among the pupils that listened round the chair of Albumazar +was Gelaleddin, a native of Tauris, in Persia, a young man amiable in +his manners and beautiful in his form, of boundless curiosity, incessant +diligence, and irresistible genius, of quick apprehension and tenacious +memory, accurate without narrowness, and eager for novelty without +inconstancy. + +No sooner did Gelaleddin appear at Bassora, than his virtues and +abilities raised him to distinction. He passed from class to class +rather admired than envied by those whom the rapidity of his progress +left behind; he was consulted by his fellow-students as an oraculous +guide, and admitted as a competent auditor to the conferences of the +sages. + +After a few years, having passed through all the exercises of probation, +Gelaleddin was invited to a professor's seat, and entreated to increase +the splendour of Bassora. Gelaleddin affected to deliberate on the +proposal, with which, before he considered it, he resolved to comply; +and next morning retired to a garden planted for the recreation of the +students, and, entering a solitary walk, began to meditate upon his +future life. + +"If I am thus eminent," said he, "in the regions of literature, I shall +be yet more conspicuous in any other place; if I should now devote +myself to study and retirement, I must pass my life in silence, +unacquainted with the delights of wealth, the influence of power, the +pomp of greatness, and the charms of elegance, with all that man envies +and desires, with all that keeps the world in motion, by the hope of +gaining or the fear of losing it. I will, therefore, depart to Tauris, +where the Persian monarch resides in all the splendour of absolute +dominion: my reputation will fly before me, my arrival will be +congratulated by my kinsmen and my friends; I shall see the eyes of +those who predict my greatness sparkling with exultation, and the faces +of those that once despised me clouded with envy, or counterfeiting +kindness by artificial smiles. I will show my wisdom by my discourse, +and my moderation by my silence; I will instruct the modest with easy +gentleness, and repress the ostentatious by seasonable superciliousness. +My apartments will be crowded by the inquisitive and the vain, by those +that honour and those that rival me; my name will soon reach the court; +I shall stand before the throne of the emperour: the judges of the law +will confess my wisdom, and the nobles will contend to heap gifts upon +me. If I shall find that my merit, like that of others, excites +malignity, or feel myself tottering on the seat of elevation, I may at +last retire to academical obscurity, and become, in my lowest state, a +professor of Bassora." + +Having thus settled his determination, he declared to his friends his +design of visiting Tauris, and saw with more pleasure than he ventured +to express, the regret with which he was dismissed. He could not bear to +delay the honours to which he was destined, and, therefore, hastened +away, and in a short time entered the capital of Persia. He was +immediately immersed in the crowd, and passed unobserved to his father's +house. He entered, and was received, though not unkindly, yet without +any excess of fondness or exclamations of rapture. His father had, in +his absence, suffered many losses, and Gelaleddin was considered as an +additional burden to a falling family. + +When he recovered from his surprise, he began to display his +acquisitions, and practised all the arts of narration and disquisition: +but the poor have no leisure to be pleased with eloquence; they heard +his arguments without reflection, and his pleasantries without a smile. +He then applied himself singly to his brothers and sisters, but found +them all chained down by invariable attention to their own fortunes, and +insensible of any other excellence than that which could bring some +remedy for indigence. + +It was now known in the neighbourhood that Gelaleddin was returned, and +he sat for some days in expectation that the learned would visit him for +consultation, or the great for entertainment. But who will be pleased or +instructed in the mansions of poverty? He then frequented places of +publick resort, and endeavoured to attract notice by the copiousness of +his talk. The sprightly were silenced, and went away to censure, in some +other place, his arrogance and his pedantry; and the dull listened +quietly for a while, and then wondered why any man should take pains to +obtain so much knowledge which would never do him good. + +He next solicited the visiers for employment, not doubting but his +service would be eagerly accepted. He was told by one that there was no +vacancy in his office; by another, that his merit was above any +patronage but that of the emperour; by a third, that he would not forget +him; and by the chief visier, that he did not think literature of any +great use in publick business. He was sometimes admitted to their +tables, where he exerted his wit and diffused his knowledge; but he +observed, that where, by endeavour or accident, he had remarkably +excelled, he was seldom invited a second time. + +He now returned to Bassora, wearied and disgusted, but confident of +resuming his former rank, and revelling again in satiety of praise. But +he who had been neglected at Tauris, was not much regarded at Bassora; +he was considered as a fugitive, who returned only because he could live +in no other place; his companions found that they had formerly overrated +his abilities, and he lived long without notice or esteem. + + + + +No. 76. SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 29, 1759. + +TO THE IDLER, + +Sir, + +I was much pleased with your ridicule of those shallow criticks, whose +judgment, though often right as far as it goes, yet reaches only to +inferior beauties, and who, unable to comprehend the whole, judge only +by parts, and from thence determine the merit of extensive works. But +there is another kind of critick still worse, who judges by narrow +rules, and those too often false, and which, though they should be true, +and founded on nature, will lead him but a very little way toward the +just estimation of the sublime beauties in works of genius; for whatever +part of an art can be executed or criticised by rules, that part is no +longer the work of genius, which implies excellence out of the reach of +rules. For my own part, I profess myself an Idler, and love to give my +judgment, such as it is, from my immediate perceptions, without much +fatigue of thinking; and I am of opinion that, if a man has not those +perceptions right, it will be vain for him to endeavour to supply their +place by rules, which may enable him to talk more learnedly, but not to +distinguish more acutely. Another reason which has lessened my affection +for the study of criticism is, that criticks, so far as I have observed, +debar themselves from receiving any pleasure from the polite arts, at +the same time, that they profess to love and admire them: for these +rules, being always uppermost, give them such a propensity to criticise, +that, instead of giving up the reins of their imagination into their +author's hands, their frigid minds are employed in examining whether the +performance be according to the rules of art. + +To those who are resolved to be criticks in spite of nature, and, at the +same time, have no great disposition to much reading and study, I would +recommend to them to assume the character of connoisseur, which may be +purchased at a much cheaper rate than that of a critick in poetry. The +remembrance of a few names of painters, with their general characters, +with a few rules of the academy, which they may pick up among the +painters, will go a great way towards making a very notable connoisseur. + +With a gentleman of this cast, I visited last week the Cartoons at +Hampton-court; he was just returned from Italy, a connoisseur of course, +and of course his mouth full of nothing but the grace of Raffaelle, the +purity of Domenichino, the learning of Poussin, the air of Guido, the +greatness of taste of the Carraccis, and the sublimity and grand +contorno of Michael Angelo; with all the rest of the cant of criticism, +which he emitted with that volubility which generally those orators have +who annex no ideas to their words. + +As we were passing through the rooms, in our way to the gallery, I made +him observe a whole length of Charles the First by Vandyke, as a perfect +representation of the character as well as the figure of the man. He +agreed it was very fine, but it wanted spirit and contrast, and had not +the flowing line, without which a figure could not possibly be graceful. +When we entered the gallery, I thought I could perceive him recollecting +his rules by which he was to criticise Raffaelle. I shall pass over his +observation of the boats being too little, and other criticisms of that +kind, till we arrive at St. Paul preaching. + +"This," says he, "is esteemed the most excellent of all the cartoons; +what nobleness, what dignity, there is in that figure of St. Paul! and +yet what an addition to that nobleness could Raffaelle have given, had +the art of contrast been known in his time! but, above all, the flowing +line which constitutes grace and beauty! You would not have then seen an +upright figure standing equally on both legs, and both hands stretched +forward in the same direction, and his drapery, to all appearance, +without the least art of disposition." The following picture is the +Charge to Peter. "Here," says he, "are twelve upright figures; what a +pity it is that Raffaelle was not acquainted with the pyramidal +principle! He would then have contrived the figures in the middle to +have been on higher ground, or the figures at the extremities stooping +or lying, which would not only have formed the group into the shape of a +pyramid, but likewise contrasted the standing figures. Indeed," added +he, "I have often lamented that so great a genius as Raffaelle had not +lived in this enlightened age, since the art has been reduced to +principles, and had had his education in one of the modern academies; +what glorious works might we have then expected from his divine pencil!" + +I shall trouble you no longer with my friend's observations, which, I +suppose, you are now able to continue by yourself. It is curious to +observe, that, at the same time that great admiration is pretended for a +name of fixed reputation, objections are raised against those very +qualities by which that great name was acquired. + +Those criticks are continually lamenting that Raffaelle had not the +colouring and harmony of Rubens, or the light and shadow of Rembrant, +without considering how much the gay harmony of the former, and +affectation of the latter, would take from the dignity of Raffaelle; and +yet Rubens had great harmony, and Rembrant understood light and shadow: +but what may be an excellence in a lower class of painting, becomes a +blemish in a higher; as the quick, sprightly turn, which is the life and +beauty of epigrammatick compositions, would but ill suit with the +majesty of heroick poetry. + +To conclude; I would not be thought to infer, from any thing that has +been said, that rules are absolutely unnecessary; but to censure +scrupulosity, a servile attention to minute exactness, which is +sometimes inconsistent with higher excellency, and is lost in the blaze +of expanded genius. + +I do not know whether you will think painting a general subject. By +inserting this letter, perhaps, you will incur the censure a man would +deserve, whose business being to entertain a whole room, should turn his +back to the company, and talk to a particular person[1]. + +I am, Sir, &c. + +[1] By Sir Joshua Reynolds. + + + + +No. 77. SATURDAY, OCTOBER 6, 1759. + +Easy poetry is universally admired; but I know not whether any rule has +yet been fixed, by which it may be decided when poetry can be properly +called easy. Horace has told us, that it is such as "every reader hopes +to equal, but after long labour finds unattainable." This is a very +loose description, in which only the effect is noted; the qualities +which produce this effect remain to be investigated. + +Easy poetry is that in which natural thoughts are expressed without +violence to the language. The discriminating character of ease consists +principally in the diction; for all true poetry requires that the +sentiments be natural. Language suffers violence by harsh or by daring +figures, by transposition, by unusual acceptations of words, and by any +licence, which would be avoided by a writer of prose. Where any artifice +appears in the construction of the verse, that verse is no longer easy. +Any epithet which can be ejected without diminution of the sense, any +curious iteration of the same word, and all unusual, though not +ungrammatical structure of speech, destroy the grace of easy poetry. + +The first lines of Pope's Iliad afford examples of many licences which +an easy writer must decline: + + Achilles' _wrath_, to Greece the _direful spring_ + Of woes unnumber'd, _heav'nly_ Goddess sing; + The wrath which _hurl'd_ to Pluto's _gloomy reign_ + The souls of _mighty_ chiefs untimely slain. + +In the first couplet the language is distorted by inversions, clogged +with superfluities, and clouded by a harsh metaphor; and in the second +there are two words used in an uncommon sense, and two epithets inserted +only to lengthen the line; all these practices may in a long work easily +be pardoned, but they always produce some degree of obscurity and +ruggedness. + +Easy poetry has been so long excluded by ambition of ornament, and +luxuriance of imagery, that its nature seems now to be forgotten. +Affectation, however opposite to ease, is sometimes mistaken for it; and +those who aspire to gentle elegance, collect female phrases and +fashionable barbarisms, and imagine that style to be easy which custom +has made familiar. Such was the idea of the poet who wrote the following +verses to a _countess cutting paper_: + + Pallas grew _vap'rish once and odd_, + She would not _do the least right thing_ + Either for Goddess or for God, + Nor work, nor play, nor paint, nor sing. + + Jove frown'd, and "Use (he cried) those eyes + So skilful, and those hands so taper; + Do something exquisite and wise"-- + She bow'd, obey'd him, and cut paper. + + This vexing him who gave her birth, + Thought by all Heaven a _burning shame_, + _What does she next_, but bids on earth + Her Burlington do just the same? + + Pallas, you give yourself _strange airs_; + But sure you'll find it hard to spoil + The sense and taste of one that bears + The name of Savile and of Boyle. + + Alas! one bad example shown, + How quickly all the sex pursue! + See, madam! see the arts o'erthrown + Between John Overton and _you_. + +It is the prerogative of easy poetry to be understood as long as the +language lasts; but modes of speech, which owe their prevalence only to +modish folly, or to the eminence of those that use them, die away with +their inventors, and their meaning, in a few years, is no longer known. + +Easy poetry is commonly sought in petty compositions upon minute +subjects; but ease, though it excludes pomp, will admit greatness. Many +lines in Cato's soliloquy are at once easy and sublime: + + 'Tis the Divinity that stirs within us; + 'Tis Heaven itself that points out an hereafter, + And intimates eternity to man. + --If there's a Power above us, + And that there is all Nature cries aloud + Through all her works, he must delight in virtue, + And that which he delights in must be happy. + +Nor is ease more contrary to wit than to sublimity; the celebrated +stanza of Cowley, on a lady elaborately dressed, loses nothing of its +freedom by the spirit of the sentiment: + + Th' adorning thee with so much art + Is but a barb'rous skill; + 'Tis like the pois'ning of a dart, + Too apt before to kill. + +Cowley seems to have possessed the power of writing easily beyond any +other of our poets; yet his pursuit of remote thought led him often into +harshness of expression. + +Waller often attempted, but seldom attained it; for he is too frequently +driven into transpositions. The poets, from the time of Dryden, have +gradually advanced in embellishment, and consequently departed from +simplicity and ease. + +To require from any author many pieces of easy poetry, would be indeed +to oppress him with too hard a task. It is less difficult to write a +volume of lines swelled with epithets, brightened by figures, and +stiffened by transpositions, than to produce a few couplets graced only +by naked elegance and simple purity, which require so much care and +skill, that I doubt whether any of our authors have yet been able, for +twenty lines together, nicely to observe the true definition of easy +poetry. + + + + +No. 78. SATURDAY, OCTOBER 13, 1759. + + I have passed the summer in one of those places to which a mineral +spring gives the idle and luxurious an annual reason for resorting, +whenever they fancy themselves offended by the heat of London. What is +the true motive of this periodical assembly, I have never yet been able +to discover. The greater part of the visitants neither feel diseases nor +fear them. What pleasure can be expected more than the variety of the +journey, I know not, for the numbers are too great for privacy, and too +small for diversion. As each is known to be a spy upon the rest, they +all live in continual restraint; and having but a narrow range for +censure, they gratify its cravings by preying on one another. + +But every condition has some advantages. In this confinement, a smaller +circle affords opportunities for more exact observation. The glass that +magnifies its object contracts the sight to a point; and the mind must +be fixed upon a single character to remark its minute peculiarities. The +quality or habit which passes unobserved in the tumult of successive +multitudes, becomes conspicuous when it is offered to the notice day +after day; and, perhaps, I have, without any distinct notice, seen +thousands like my late companions; for when the scene can be varied at +pleasure, a slight disgust turns us aside before a deep impression can +be made upon the mind. + +There was a select set, supposed to be distinguished by superiority of +intellects, who always passed the evening together. To be admitted to +their conversation was the highest honour of the place; many youths +aspired to distinction, by pretending to occasional invitations; and the +ladies were often wishing to be men, that they might partake the +pleasures of learned society. + +I know not whether by merit or destiny, I was, soon after my arrival, +admitted to this envied party, which I frequented till I had learned the +art by which each endeavoured to support his character. + +Tom Steady was a vehement assertor of uncontroverted truth; and by +keeping himself out of the reach of contradiction had acquired all the +confidence which the consciousness of irresistible abilities could have +given. I was once mentioning a man of eminence, and, after having +recounted his virtues, endeavoured to represent him fully, by mentioning +his faults. "Sir," said Mr. Steady, "that he has faults I can easily +believe, for who is without them? No man, Sir, is now alive, among the +innumerable multitudes that swarm upon the earth, however wise, or +however good, who has not, in some degree, his failings and his faults. +If there be any man faultless, bring him forth into publick view, show +him openly, and let him be known; but I will venture to affirm, and, +till the contrary be plainly shown, shall always maintain, that no such +man is to be found. Tell not me, Sir, of impeccability and perfection; +such talk is for those that are strangers in the world: I have seen +several nations, and conversed with all ranks of people; I have known +the great and the mean, the learned and the ignorant, the old and the +young, the clerical and the lay; but I have never found a man without a +fault; and I suppose shall die in the opinion, that to be human is to be +frail." + +To all this nothing could be opposed. I listened with a hanging head; +Mr. Steady looked round on the hearers with triumph, and saw every eye +congratulating his victory; he departed, and spent the next morning in +following those who retired from the company, and telling them, with +injunctions of secrecy, how poor Spritely began to take liberties with +men wiser than himself; but that he suppressed him by a decisive +argument, which put him totally to silence. + +Dick Snug is a man of sly remark and pithy sententiousness: he never +immerges himself in the stream of conversation, but lies to catch his +companions in the eddy: he is often very successful in breaking +narratives and confounding eloquence. A gentleman, giving the history of +one of his acquaintance, made mention of a lady that had many lovers: +"Then," said Dick, "she was either handsome or rich." This observation +being well received, Dick watched the progress of the tale; and, hearing +of a man lost in a shipwreck, remarked, that "no man was ever drowned +upon dry land." + +Will Startle is a man of exquisite sensibility, whose delicacy of frame +and quickness of discernment subject him to impressions from the +slightest causes; and who, therefore, passes his life between rapture +and horrour, in quiverings of delight, or convulsions of disgust. His +emotions are too violent for many words; his thoughts are always +discovered by exclamations. _Vile, odious, horrid, detestable_, and +_sweet, charming, delightful, astonishing_, compose almost his whole +vocabulary, which he utters with various contortions and gesticulations, +not easily related or described. + +Jack Solid is a man of much reading, who utters nothing but quotations; +but having been, I suppose, too confident of his memory, he has for some +time neglected his books, and his stock grows every day more scanty. + +Mr. Solid has found an opportunity every night to repeat, from Hudibras, + + Doubtless the pleasure is as great + Of being cheated, as to cheat; + +and from Waller, + + Poets lose half the praise they would have got, + Were it but known what they discreetly blot. + +Dick Misty is a man of deep research, and forcible penetration. Others +are content with superficial appearances; but Dick holds, that there is +no effect without a cause, and values himself upon his power of +explaining the difficult and displaying the abstruse. Upon a dispute +among us, which of two young strangers was more beautiful, "You," says +Mr. Misty, turning to me, "like Amaranthia better than Chloris. I do not +wonder at the preference, for the cause is evident: there is in man a +perception of harmony, and a sensibility of perfection, which touches +the finer fibres of the mental texture; and before reason can descend +from her throne, to pass her sentence upon the things compared, drives +us towards the object proportioned to our faculties, by an impulse +gentle, yet irresistible; for the harmonick system of the Universe, and +the reciprocal magnetism of similar natures, are always operating +towards conformity and union; nor can the powers of the soul cease from +agitation, till they find something on which they can repose." To this +nothing was opposed; and Amaranthia was acknowledged to excel Chloris. + +Of the rest you may expect an account from, + +Sir, yours, + +ROBIN SPRITELY. + + + + +No. 79. SATURDAY, OCTOBER 20, 1759. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Sir, + +Your acceptance of a former letter on painting gives me encouragement to +offer a few more sketches on the same subject. + +Amongst the painters, and the writers on painting, there is one maxim +universally admitted and continually inculcated. _Imitate nature_ is the +invariable rule; but I know none who have explained in what manner this +rule is to be understood; the consequence of which is, that every one +takes it in the most obvious sense, that objects are represented +naturally when they have such relief that they seem real. It may appear +strange, perhaps, to hear this sense of the rule disputed; but it must +be considered, that, if the excellency of a painter consisted only in +this kind of imitation, painting must lose its rank, and be no longer +considered as a liberal art, and sister to poetry, this imitation being +merely mechanical, in which the slowest intellect is always sure to +succeed best: for the painter of genius cannot stoop to drudgery, in +which the understanding has no part; and what pretence has the art to +claim kindred with poetry, but by its powers over the imagination? To +this power the painter of genius directs his aim; in this sense he +studies nature, and often arrives at his end, even by being unnatural in +the confined sense of the word. + +The grand style of painting requires this minute attention to be +carefully avoided, and must be kept as separate from it as the style of +poetry from that of history. Poetical ornaments destroy that air of +truth and plainness which ought to characterize history; but the very +being of poetry consists in departing from this plain narration, and +adopting every ornament that will warm the imagination. To desire to see +the excellencies of each style united, to mingle the Dutch with the +Italian school, is to join contrarieties which cannot subsist together, +and which destroy the efficacy of each other. The Italian attends only +to the invariable, the great and general ideas which are fixed and +inherent in universal nature; the Dutch, on the contrary, to literal +truth and a minute exactness in the detail, as I may say, of nature +modified by accident. The attention to these petty peculiarities is the +very cause of this naturalness so much admired in the Dutch pictures, +which, if we suppose it to be a beauty, is certainly of a lower order, +which ought to give place to a beauty of a superior kind, since one +cannot be obtained but by departing from the other. + +If my opinion was asked concerning the works of Michael Angelo, whether +they would receive any advantage from possessing this mechanical merit, +I should not scruple to say, they would not only receive no advantage, +but would lose, in a great measure, the effect which they now have on +every mind susceptible of great and noble ideas. His works may be said +to be all genius and soul; and why should they be loaded with heavy +matter, which can only counteract his purpose by retarding the progress +of the imagination? + +If this opinion should be thought one of the wild extravagancies of +enthusiasm, I shall only say, that those who censure it are not +conversant in the works of the great masters. It is very difficult to +determine the exact degree of enthusiasm that the arts of painting and +poetry may admit. There may, perhaps, be too great an indulgence, as +well as too great a restraint of imagination; and if the one produces +incoherent monsters, the other produces what is full as bad, lifeless +insipidity. An intimate knowledge of the passions, and good sense, but +not common sense, must at last determine its limits. It has been +thought, and I believe with reason, that Michael Angelo sometimes +trangressed those limits; and I think I have seen figures of him of +which it was very difficult to determine whether they were in the +highest degree sublime or extremely ridiculous. Such faults may be said +to be the ebullitions of genius; but at least he had this merit, that he +never was insipid, and whatever passion his works may excite, they will +always escape contempt. + +What I have had under consideration is the sublimest style, particularly +that of Michael Angelo, the Homer of painting. Other kinds may admit of +this naturalness, which of the lowest kind is the chief merit; but in +painting, as in poetry, the highest style has the least of common +nature. + +One may very safely recommend a little more enthusiasm to the modern +painters; too much is certainly not the vice of the present age. The +Italians seem to have been continually declining, in this respect, from +the time of Michael Angelo to that of Carlo Maratti, and from thence to +the very bathos of insipidity to which they are now sunk; so that there +is no need of remarking, that, where I mentioned the Italian painters in +opposition to the Dutch, I mean not the moderns, but the heads of the +old Roman and Bolognian schools; nor did I mean to include in my idea of +an Italian painter, the Venetian school, which may be said to be the +Dutch part of the Italian genius. I have only to add a word of advice to +the painters, that, however excellent they may be in painting naturally, +they would not flatter themselves very much upon it, and to the +connoisseurs, that when they see a cat or fiddle painted so finely, +that, as the phrase is, "it looks as if you could take it up," they +would not for that reason immediately compare the painter to Raffaelle +and Michael Angelo.[1] + +[1] By Sir Joshua Reynolds. + + + + +No. 80. SATURDAY, OCTOBER 27, 1759. + +That every day has its pains and sorrows is universally experienced, and +almost universally confessed; but let us not attend only to mournful +truths; if we look impartially about us, we shall find that every day +has likewise its pleasures and its joys. + +The time is now come when the town is again beginning to be full, and +the rusticated beauty sees an end of her banishment. Those whom the +tyranny of fashion had condemned to pass the summer among shades and +brooks, are now preparing to return to plays, balls and assemblies, with +health restored by retirement, and spirits kindled by expectation. + +Many a mind, which has languished some months without emotion or desire, +now feels a sudden renovation of its faculties. It was long ago observed +by Pythagoras, that ability and necessity dwell near each other. She +that wandered in the garden without sense of its fragrance, and lay day +after day stretched upon a couch behind a green curtain, unwilling to +wake, and unable to sleep, now summons her thoughts to consider which of +her last year's clothes shall be seen again, and to anticipate the +raptures of a new suit; the day and the night are now filled with +occupation; the laces, which were too fine to be worn among rusticks, +are taken from the boxes and reviewed; and the eye is no sooner closed +after its labours, than whole shops of silk busy the fancy. + +But happiness is nothing, if it is not known, and very little, if it is +not envied. Before the day of departure a week is always appropriated to +the payment and reception of ceremonial visits, at which nothing can be +mentioned but the delights of London. The lady who is hastening to the +scene of action flutters her wings, displays her prospects of felicity, +tells how she grudges every moment of delay, and, in the presence of +those whom she knows condemned to stay at home, is sure to wonder by +what arts life can be made supportable through a winter in the country, +and to tell how often, amidst the ecstasies of an opera, she shall pity +those friends whom she has left behind. Her hope of giving pain is +seldom disappointed; the affected indifference of one, the faint +congratulations of another, the wishes of some openly confessed, and the +silent dejection of the rest, all exalt her opinion of her own +superiority. + +But, however we may labour for our own deception, truth, though +unwelcome, will sometimes intrude upon the mind. They who have already +enjoyed the crowds and noise of the great city, know that their desire +to return is little more than the restlessness of a vacant mind, that +they are not so much led by hope as driven by disgust, and wish rather +to leave the country than to see the town. There is commonly in every +coach a passenger enwrapped in silent expectation, whose joy is more +sincere, and whose hopes are more exalted. The virgin whom the last +summer released from her governess, and who is now going between her +mother and her aunt to try the fortune of her wit and beauty, suspects +no fallacy in the gay representation. She believes herself passing into +another world, and images London as an elysian region, where every hour +has its proper pleasure, where nothing is seen but the blaze of wealth, +and nothing heard but merriment and flattery; where the morning always +rises on a show, and the evening closes on a ball; where the eyes are +used only to sparkle, and the feet only to dance. + +Her aunt and her mother amuse themselves on the road, with telling her +of dangers to be dreaded, and cautions to be observed. She hears them as +they heard their predecessors, with incredulity or contempt. She sees +that they have ventured and escaped; and one of the pleasures which she +promises herself is to detect their falsehoods, and be freed from their +admonitions. + +We are inclined to believe those whom we do not know, because they have +never deceived us. The fair adventurer may, perhaps, listen to the +Idler, whom she cannot suspect of rivalry or malice; yet he scarcely +expects to be credited when he tells her, that her expectations will +likewise end in disappointment. + +The uniform necessities of human nature produce, in a great measure, +uniformity of life, and for part of the day make one place like another; +to dress and to undress, to eat and to sleep, are the same in London as +in the country. The supernumerary hours have, indeed, a great variety +both of pleasure and of pain. The stranger, gazed on by multitudes at +her first appearance in the Park, is, perhaps, on the highest summit of +female happiness; but how great is the anguish when the novelty of +another face draws her worshippers away! The heart may leap for a time +under a fine gown; but the sight of a gown yet finer puts an end to +rapture. In the first row at an opera, two hours may be happily passed +in listening to the musick on the stage, and watching the glances of the +company; but how will the night end in despondency when she, that +imagined herself the sovereign of the place, sees lords contending to +lead Iris to her chair! There is little pleasure in conversation, to her +whose wit is regarded but in the second place; and who can dance with +ease or spirit that sees Amaryllis led out before her? She that fancied +nothing but a succession of pleasures, will find herself engaged without +design in numberless competitions, and mortified, without provocation, +with numberless afflictions. + +But I do not mean to extinguish that ardour which I wish to moderate, or +to discourage those whom I am endeavouring to restrain. To know the +world is necessary, since we were born for the help of one another; and +to know it early is convenient, if it be only that we may learn early to +despise it. She that brings to London a mind well prepared for +improvement, though she misses her hope of uninterrupted happiness, will +gain in return an opportunity of adding knowledge to vivacity, and +enlarging innocence to virtue. + + + + +No. 81. SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 3, 1759. + +As the English army was passing towards Quebec along a soft savanna +between a mountain and a lake, one of the petty chiefs of the inland +regions stood upon a rock surrounded by his clan, and from behind the +shelter of the bushes contemplated the art and regularity of European +war. It was evening, the tents were pitched: he observed the security +with which the troops rested in the night, and the order with which the +march was renewed in the morning. He continued to pursue them with his +eye till they could be seen no longer, and then stood for some time +silent and pensive. + +Then turning to his followers, "My children," said he, "I have often +heard from men hoary with long life, that there was a time when our +ancestors were absolute lords of the woods, the meadows and the lakes, +wherever the eye can reach or the foot can pass. They fished and hunted, +feasted and danced, and when they were weary lay down under the first +thicket, without danger and without fear. They changed their +habitations, as the seasons required, convenience prompted, or curiosity +allured them; and sometimes gathered the fruits of the mountain, and +sometimes sported in canoes along the coast. + +"Many years and ages are supposed to have been thus passed in plenty and +security; when, at last, a new race of men entered our country from the +great ocean. They inclosed themselves in habitations of stone, which our +ancestors could neither enter by violence, nor destroy by fire. They +issued from those fastnesses, sometimes covered, like the armadillo, +with shells, from which the lance rebounded on the striker, and +sometimes carried by mighty beasts which had never been seen in our +vales or forests, of such strength and swiftness, that flight and +opposition were vain alike. Those invaders ranged over the continent +slaughtering, in their rage, those that resisted, and those that +submitted, in their mirth. Of those that remained, some were buried in +caverns, and condemned to dig metals for their masters; some were +employed in tilling the ground, of which foreign tyrants devour the +produce; and, when the sword and the mines have destroyed the natives, +they supply their place by human beings of another colour, brought from +some distant country to perish here under toil and torture. + +"Some there are who boast their humanity, and content themselves to +seize our chases and fisheries, who drive us from every tract of ground +where fertility and pleasantness invite them to settle, and make no war +upon us except when we intrude upon our own lands. + +"Others pretend to have purchased a right of residence and tyranny; but +surely the insolence of such bargains is more offensive than the avowed +and open dominion of force. What reward can induce the possessour of a +country to admit a stranger more powerful than himself? Fraud or terrour +must operate in such contracts; either they promised protection which +they never have afforded, or instruction which they never imparted. We +hoped to be secured by their favour from some other evil, or to learn +the arts of Europe, by which we might be able to secure ourselves. Their +power they never have exerted in our defence, and their arts they have +studiously concealed from us. Their treaties are only to deceive, and +their traffick only to defraud us. They have a written law among them, +of which they boast, as derived from Him who made the earth and sea, and +by which they profess to believe that man will be made happy when life +shall forsake him. Why is not this law communicated to us? It is +concealed because it is violated. For how can they preach it to an +Indian nation, when I am told that one of its first precepts forbids +them to do to others what they would not that others should do to them? + +"But the time, perhaps, is now approaching, when the pride of usurpation +shall be crushed, and the cruelties of invasion shall be revenged. The +sons of rapacity have now drawn their swords upon each other, and +referred their claims to the decision of war; let us look unconcerned +upon the slaughter, and remember that the death of every European +delivers the country from a tyrant and a robber; for what is the claim +of either nation, but the claim of the vulture to the leveret, of the +tiger to the fawn? Let them then continue to dispute their title to +regions which they cannot people, to purchase by danger and blood the +empty dignity of dominion over mountains which they will never climb, +and rivers which they will never pass. Let us endeavour, in the mean +time, to learn their discipline, and to forge their weapons; and, when +they shall be weakened with mutual slaughter, let us rush down upon +them, force their remains to take shelter in their ships, and reign once +more in our native country[1]." + +[1] "How far the seizing on countries already peopled, and driving out + or massacring the innocent and defenceless natives, merely because + they differed from their invaders in language, in religion, in + customs, in government or in colour; how far such a conduct was + consonant to nature, to reason or to Christianity, deserved well to + be considered by those who have rendered their names immortal by + thus civilizing mankind." Blackstone, Com. ii. 7. + + I love the University of Salamanca, said Johnson, with warm emotion, + for when the Spaniards were in doubt as to the lawfulness of their + conquering America, the University of Salamanca gave it as their + opinion, that it was not lawful. Boswell, i. 434. + + The untaught eloquence of Indian feeling is well preserved in the + language of Gertrude of Wyoming. + + + +No. 82. SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 10, 1759. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Sir, + +Discoursing in my last letter on the different practice of the Italian +and Dutch painters, I observed, that "the Italian painter attends only +to the invariable, the great and general ideas which are fixed and +inherent in universal nature." + +I was led into the subject of this letter by endeavouring to fix the +original cause of this conduct of the Italian masters. If it can be +proved that by this choice they selected the most beautiful part of the +creation, it will show how much their principles are founded on reason, +and, at the same time, discover the origin of our ideas of beauty. + +I suppose it will be easily granted, that no man can judge whether any +animal be beautiful in its kind, or deformed, who has seen only one of +that species: this is as conclusive in regard to the human figure; so +that if a man, born blind, was to recover his sight, and the most +beautiful woman was brought before him, he could not determine whether +she was handsome or not; nor, if the most beautiful and most deformed +were produced, could he any better determine to which he should give the +preference, having seen only those two. To distinguish beauty, then, +implies the having seen many individuals of that species. If it is +asked, how is more skill acquired by the observation of greater numbers? +I answer that, in consequence of having seen many, the power is +acquired, even without seeking after it, of distinguishing between +accidental blemishes and excrescences which are continually varying the +surface of Nature's works, and the invariable general form which Nature +most frequently produces, and always seems to intend in her productions. + +Thus, amongst the blades of grass or leaves of the same tree, though no +two can be found exactly alike, yet the general form is invariable: a +naturalist, before he chose one as a sample, would examine many, since, +if he took the first that occurred, it might have, by accident or +otherwise, such a form as that it would scarcely be known to belong to +that species; he selects, as the painter does, the most beautiful, that +is, the most general form of nature. + +Every species of the animal, as well as the vegetable creation, may be +said to have a fixed or determinate form towards which nature is +continually inclining, like various lines terminating in the centre; or +it may be compared to pendulums vibrating in different directions over +one central point; and as they all cross the centre, though only one +passes through any other point, so it will be found that perfect beauty +is oftener produced by nature than deformity; I do not mean than +deformity in general, but than any one kind of deformity. To instance in +a particular part of a feature: the line that forms the ridge of the +nose is beautiful when it is straight; this then is the central form, +which is oftener found than either concave, convex or any other +irregular form that shall be proposed. As we are then more accustomed to +beauty than deformity, we may conclude that to be the reason why we +approve and admire it, as we approve and admire customs and fashions of +dress for no other reason than that we are used to them; so that, though +habit and custom cannot be said to be the cause of beauty, it is +certainly the cause of our liking it; and I have no doubt but that, if +we were more used to deformity than beauty, deformity would then lose +the idea now annexed to it, and take that of beauty; as, if the whole +world should agree that _yes_ and _no_ should change their meanings, +_yes_ would then deny, and _no_ would affirm. + +Whoever undertakes to proceed further in this argument, and endeavours +to fix a general criterion of beauty respecting different species, or to +show why one species is more beautiful than another, it will be required +from him first to prove that one species is really more beautiful than +another. That we prefer one to the other, and with very good reason, +will be readily granted; but it does not follow from thence that we +think it a more beautiful form; for we have no criterion of form by +which to determine our judgment. He who says a swan is more beautiful +than a dove, means little more than that he has more pleasure in seeing +a swan than a dove, either from the stateliness of its motions, or its +being a more rare bird; and he who gives the preference to the dove, +does it from some association of ideas of innocence that he always +annexes to the dove; but, if he pretends to defend the preference he +gives to one or the other by endeavouring to prove that this more +beautiful form proceeds from a particular gradation of magnitude, +undulation of a curve, or direction of a line, or whatever other conceit +of his imagination he shall fix on as a criterion of form, he will be +continually contradicting himself, and find at last, that the great +Mother of Nature will not be subjected to such narrow rules. Among the +various reasons why we prefer one part of her works to another, the most +general, I believe, is habit and custom; custom makes, in a certain +sense, white black, and black white; it is custom alone determines our +preference of the colour of the Europeans to the Aethiopians; and they, +for the same reason, prefer their own colour to ours. I suppose nobody +will doubt, if one of their painters were to paint the goddess of +beauty, but that he would represent her black, with thick lips, flat +nose, and woolly hair; and, it seems to me, he would act very +unnaturally if he did not; for by what criterion will any one dispute +the propriety of his idea? We, indeed, say, that the form and colour of +the European is preferable to that of the Aethiopian; but I know of no +reason we have for it, but that we are more accustomed to it. It is +absurd to say, that beauty is possessed of attractive powers, which +irresistibly seize the corresponding mind with love and admiration, +since that argument is equally conclusive in favour of the white and the +black philosopher. + +The black and white nations must, in respect of beauty, be considered as +of different kinds, at least a different species of the same kind; from +one of which to the other, as I observed, no inference can be drawn. + +Novelty is said to be one of the causes of beauty: that novelty is a +very sufficient reason why we should admire, is not denied; but, because +it is uncommon, is it, therefore, beautiful? The beauty that is produced +by colour, as when we prefer one bird to another, though of the same +form, on account of its colour, has nothing to do with this argument, +which reaches only to form. I have here considered the word _beauty_ as +being properly applied to form alone. There is a necessity of fixing +this confined sense; for there can be no argument, if the sense of the +word is extended to every thing that is approved. A rose may as well be +said to be beautiful, because it has a fine smell, as a bird because of +its colour. When we apply the word _beauty_ we do not mean always by it +a more beautiful form, but something valuable on account of its rarity, +usefulness, colour, or any other property. A horse is said to be a +beautiful animal; but, had a horse as few good qualities as a tortoise, +I do not imagine that he would be then esteemed beautiful. + +A fitness to the end proposed, is said to be another cause of beauty; +but supposing we were proper judges of what form is the most proper in +an animal to constitute strength or swiftness, we always determine +concerning its beauty, before we exert our understanding to judge of its +fitness. + +From what has been said, it may be inferred, that the works of nature, +if we compare one species with another, are all equally beautiful; and +that preference is given from custom, or some association of ideas: and +that, in creatures of the same species, beauty is the medium or centre +of all various forms. + +To conclude, then, by way of corollary: If it has been proved, that the +painter, by attending to the invariable and general ideas of nature, +produces beauty, he must, by regarding minute particularities and +accidental discriminations, deviate from the universal rule, and pollute +his canvass with deformity[1]. + +[1] By Sir Joshua Reynolds. + + + + +No. 83. SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 17, 1759. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Sir, + +I suppose you have forgotten that many weeks ago I promised to send you +an account of my companions at the Wells. You would not deny me a place +among the most faithful votaries of idleness, if you knew how often I +have recollected my engagement, and contented myself to delay the +performance for some reason which I durst not examine because I knew it +to be false; how often I have sat down to write, and rejoiced at +interruption; and how often I have praised the dignity of resolution, +determined at night to write in the morning, and deferred it in the +morning to the quiet hours of night. + +I have at last begun what I have long wished at an end, and find it more +easy than I expected to continue my narration. + +Our assembly could boast no such constellation of intellects as +Clarendon's band of associates. We had among us no Selden, Falkland or +Waller; but we had men not less important in their own eyes, though less +distinguished by the publick; and many a time have we lamented the +partiality of mankind, and agreed that men of the deepest inquiry +sometimes let their discoveries die away in silence, that the most +comprehensive observers have seldom opportunities of imparting their +remarks, and that modest merit passes in the crowd unknown and unheeded. + +One of the greatest men of the society was Sim Scruple, who lives in a +continual equipoise of doubt, and is a constant enemy to confidence and +dogmatism. Sim's favourite topick of conversation is the narrowness of +the human mind, the fallaciousness of our senses, the prevalence of +early prejudice, and the uncertainty of appearances. Sim has many doubts +about the nature of death, and is sometimes inclined to believe that +sensation may survive motion, and that a dead man may feel though he +cannot stir. He has sometimes hinted that man might, perhaps, have been +naturally a quadruped; and thinks it would be very proper, that at the +Foundling Hospital some children should be inclosed in an apartment in +which the nurses should be obliged to walk half upon four and half upon +two legs, that the younglings, being bred without the prejudice of +example, might have no other guide than nature, and might at last come +forth into the world as genius should direct, erect or prone, on two +legs or on four. + +The next, in dignity of mien and fluency of talk, was Dick Wormwood, +whose sole delight is to find every thing wrong. Dick never enters a +room but he shows that the door and the chimney are ill-placed. He never +walks into the fields but he finds ground ploughed which is fitter for +pasture. He is always an enemy to the present fashion. + +He holds that all the beauty and virtue of women will soon be destroyed +by the use of tea[1]. He triumphs when he talks on the present system of +education, and tells us, with great vehemence, that we are learning +words when we should learn things. He is of opinion that we suck in +errours at the nurse's breast, and thinks it extremely ridiculous that +children should be taught to use the right hand rather than the left. + +Bob Sturdy considers it as a point of honour to say again what he has +once said, and wonders how any man, that has been known to alter his +opinion, can look his neighbours in the face. Bob is the most formidable +disputant of the whole company; for, without troubling himself to search +for reasons, he tires his antagonist with repeated affirmations. When +Bob has been attacked for an hour with all the powers of eloquence and +reason, and his position appears to all but himself utterly untenable, +he always closes the debate with his first declaration, introduced by a +stout preface of contemptuous civility. "All this is very judicious; you +may talk, Sir, as you please; but I will still say what I said at +first." Bob deals much in universals, which he has now obliged us to let +pass without exceptions. He lives on an annuity, and holds that _there +are as many thieves as traders_; he is of loyalty unshaken, and always +maintains, that _he who sees a Jacobite sees a rascal_. + +Phil Gentle is an enemy to the rudeness of contradiction and the +turbulence of debate. Phil has no notions of his own, and, therefore, +willingly catches from the last speaker such as he shall drop. This +flexibility of ignorance is easily accommodated to any tenet; his only +difficulty is, when the disputants grow zealous, how to be of two +contrary opinions at once. If no appeal is made to his judgment, he has +the art of distributing his attention and his smiles in such a manner, +that each thinks him of his own party; but if he is obliged to speak, he +then observes that the question is difficult; that he never received so +much pleasure from a debate before; that neither of the controvertists +could have found his match in any other company; that Mr. Wormwood's +assertion is very well supported, and yet there is great force in what +Mr. Scruple advanced against it. By this indefinite declaration both are +commonly satisfied; for he that has prevailed is in good humour; and he +that has felt his own weakness is very glad to have escaped so well. + +I am, Sir, yours, &c. ROBIN SPRITELY. + +[1] Dr. Johnson was, as he has humorously described himself, "a hardened + and shameless tea-drinker." See his amusing Review of a Journal of + Eight Days' Journey and his Reply to a paper in the Gazetteer, May + 26, 1757. + + + + +No. 84. SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 24, 1759. + +Biography is, of the various kinds of narrative writing, that which is +most eagerly read, and most easily applied to the purposes of life. + +In romances, when the wide field of possibility lies open to invention, +the incidents may easily be made more numerous, the vicissitudes more +sudden, and the events more wonderful; but from the time of life when +fancy begins to be overruled by reason and corrected by experience, the +most artful tale raises little curiosity when it is known to be +false[1]; though it may, perhaps, be sometimes read as a model of a neat +or elegant style, not for the sake of knowing what it contains, but how +it is written; or those that are weary of themselves, may have recourse +to it as a pleasing dream, of which, when they awake, they voluntarily +dismiss the images from their minds. + +The examples and events of history press, indeed, upon the mind with the +weight of truth; but when they are reposited in the memory, they are +oftener employed for show than use, and rather diversify conversation +than regulate life. Few are engaged in such scenes as give them +opportunities of growing wiser by the downfal of statesmen or the defeat +of generals. The stratagems of war, and the intrigues of courts, are +read by far the greater part of mankind with the same indifference as +the adventures of fabled heroes, or the revolutions of a fairy region. +Between falsehood and useless truth there is little difference. As gold +which he cannot spend will make no man rich, so knowledge which he +cannot apply will make no man wise. + +The mischievous consequences of vice and folly, of irregular desires and +predominant passions, are best discovered by those relations which are +levelled with the general surface of life, which tell not how any man +became great, but how he was made happy; not how he lost the favour of +his prince, but how he became discontented with himself. + +Those relations are, therefore, commonly of most value in which the +writer tells his own story. He that recounts the life of another, +commonly dwells most upon conspicuous events, lessens the familiarity of +his tale to increase its dignity, shows his favourite at a distance, +decorated and magnified like the ancient actors in their tragick dress, +and endeavours to hide the man that he may produce a hero. + +But if it be true, which was said by a French prince, "that no man was a +hero to the servants of his chamber," it is equally true, that every man +is yet less a hero to himself. He that is most elevated above the crowd +by the importance of his employments, or the reputation of his genius, +feels himself affected by fame or business but as they influence his +domestick life. The high and low, as they have the same faculties and +the same senses, have no less similitude in their pains and pleasures. +The sensations are the same in all, though produced by very different +occasions. The prince feels the same pain when an invader seizes a +province, as the farmer when a thief drives away his cow. Men thus equal +in themselves will appear equal in honest and impartial biography; and +those whom fortune or nature places at the greatest distance may afford +instruction to each other. + +The writer of his own life has, at least, the first qualification of an +historian, the knowledge of the truth; and though it may be plausibly +objected that his temptations to disguise it are equal to his +opportunities of knowing it, yet I cannot but think that impartiality +may be expected with equal confidence from him that relates the passages +of his own life, as from him that delivers the transactions of another. + +Certainty of knowledge not only excludes mistake, but fortifies +veracity. What we collect by conjecture, and by conjecture only, can one +man judge of another's motives or sentiments, is easily modified by +fancy or by desire; as objects imperfectly discerned take forms from the +hope or fear of the beholder. But that which is fully known cannot be +falsified but with reluctance of understanding, and alarm of conscience: +of understanding, the lover of truth; of conscience, the sentinel of +virtue. + +He that writes the life of another is either his friend or his enemy, +and wishes either to exalt his praise or aggravate his infamy: many +temptations to falsehood will occur in the disguise of passions, too +specious to fear much resistance. Love of virtue will animate +panegyrick, and hatred of wickedness imbitter censure. The zeal of +gratitude, the ardour of patriotism, fondness for an opinion, or +fidelity to a party, may easily overpower the vigilance of a mind +habitually well disposed, and prevail over unassisted and unfriended +veracity. + +But he that speaks of himself has no motive to falsehood or partiality +except self-love, by which all have so often been betrayed, that all are +on the watch against its artifices. He that writes an apology for a +single action, to confute an accusation, to recommend himself to favour, +is, indeed, always to be suspected of favouring his own cause; but he +that sits down calmly and voluntarily to review his life for the +admonition of posterity, or to amuse himself, and leaves this account +unpublished, may be commonly presumed to tell truth, since falsehood +cannot appease his own mind, and fame will not be heard beneath the +tomb. + +[1] It is somewhere recorded of a retired citizen, that he was in the + habit of again and again perusing the incomparable story of Robinson + Crusoe without a suspicion of its authenticity. At length a friend + assured him of its being a work of fiction. What you say, replied + the old man mournfully, may be true; but your information has taken + away the only comfort of my age. + + --Pol, me occidistis, amici, + Non servastis, ait; cui sic extorta voluptas, + Et demtus per vim mentis gratissimus error. HOR. Lib. ii. Ep. ii. 138. + + + + +No. 85. SATURDAY, DECEMBER 1, 1759. + +One of the peculiarities which distinguish the present age is the +multiplication of books. Every day brings new advertisements of literary +undertakings, and we are flattered with repeated promises of growing +wise on easier terms than our progenitors. + +How much either happiness or knowledge is advanced by this multitude of +authors, it is not very easy to decide. + +He that teaches us any thing which we knew not before, is undoubtedly to +be reverenced as a master. + +He that conveys knowledge by more pleasing ways, may very properly be +loved as a benefactor; and he that supplies life with innocent +amusement, will be certainly caressed as a pleasing companion. + +But few of those who fill the world with books have any pretensions to +the hope either of pleasing or instructing. They have often no other +task than to lay two books before them, out of which they compile a +third, without any new materials of their own, and with very little +application of judgment to those which former authors have supplied. + +That all compilations are useless, I do not assert. Particles of science +are often very widely scattered. Writers of extensive comprehension have +incidental remarks upon topicks very remote from the principal subject, +which are often more valuable than formal treatises, and which yet are +not known because they are not promised in the title. He that collects +those under proper heads is very laudably employed, for, though he +exerts no great abilities in the work, he facilitates the progress of +others, and by making that easy of attainment which is already written, +may give some mind, more vigorous or more adventurous than his own, +leisure for new thoughts and original designs. + +But the collections poured lately from the press have been seldom made +at any great expense of time or inquiry, and, therefore, only serve to +distract choice without supplying any real want. + +It is observed that "a corrupt society has many laws;" I know not +whether it is not equally true, that "an ignorant age has many books." +When the treasures of ancient knowledge lie unexamined, and original +authors are neglected and forgotten, compilers and plagiaries are +encouraged, who give us again what we had before, and grow great by +setting before us what our own sloth had hidden from our view. + +Yet are not even these writers to be indiscriminately censured and +rejected. Truth like beauty varies its fashions, and is best recommended +by different dresses to different minds; and he that recalls the +attention of mankind to any part of learning which time has left behind +it, may be truly said to advance the literature of his own age. As the +manners of nations vary, new topicks of persuasion become necessary, and +new combinations of imagery are produced; and he that can accommodate +himself to the reigning taste, may always have readers who, perhaps, +would not have looked upon better performances. + +To exact of every man who writes, that he should say something new, +would be to reduce authors to a small number; to oblige the most fertile +genius to say only what is new would be to contract his volumes to a few +pages. Yet, surely, there ought to be some bounds to repetition; +libraries ought no more to be heaped for ever with the same thoughts +differently expressed, than with the same books differently decorated. + +The good or evil which these secondary writers produce is seldom of any +long duration. As they owe their existence to change of fashion, they +commonly disappear when a new fashion becomes prevalent. The authors +that in any nation last from age to age are very few, because there are +very few that have any other claim to notice than that they catch hold +on present curiosity, and gratify some accidental desire, or produce +some temporary conveniency. + +But however the writers of the day may despair of future fame, they +ought at least to forbear any present mischief. Though they cannot +arrive at eminent heights of excellence, they might keep themselves +harmless. They might take care to inform themselves before they attempt +to inform others, and exert the little influence which they have for +honest purposes. + +But such is the present state of our literature, that the ancient sage, +who thought _a great book a great evil_, would now think the multitude +of books a multitude of evils. He would consider a bulky writer who +engrossed a year, and a swarm of pamphleteers who stole each an hour, as +equal wasters of human life, and would make no other difference between +them, than between a beast of prey and a flight of locusts. + + + + +No. 86. SATURDAY, DECEMBER 8, 1759. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Sir, + +I am a young lady newly married to a young gentleman. Our fortune is +large, our minds are vacant, our dispositions gay, our acquaintances +numerous, and our relations splendid. We considered that marriage, like +life, has its youth; that the first year is the year of gaiety and +revel, and resolved to see the shows and feel the joys of London, before +the increase of our family should confine us to domestick cares and +domestick pleasures. + +Little time was spent in preparation; the coach was harnessed, and a few +days brought us to London, and we alighted at a lodging provided for us +by Miss Biddy Trifle, a maiden niece of my husband's father, where we +found apartments on a second floor, which my cousin told us would serve +us till we could please ourselves with a more commodious and elegant +habitation, and which she had taken at a very high price, because it was +not worth the while to make a hard bargain for so short a time. + +Here I intended to lie concealed till my new clothes were made, and my +new lodging hired; but Miss Trifle had so industriously given notice of +our arrival to all her acquaintance, that I had the mortification next +day of seeing the door thronged with painted coaches and chairs with +coronets, and was obliged to receive all my husband's relations on a +second floor. + +Inconveniencies are often balanced by some advantage: the elevation of +my apartments furnished a subject for conversation, which, without some +such help, we should have been in danger of wanting. Lady Stately told +us how many years had passed since she climbed so many steps. Miss Airy +ran to the window, and thought it charming to see the walkers so little +in the street; and Miss Gentle went to try the same experiment, and +screamed to find herself so far above the ground. + +They all knew that we intended to remove, and, therefore, all gave me +advice about a proper choice. One street was recommended for the purity +of its air, another for its freedom from noise, another for its nearness +to the Park, another because there was but a step from it to all places +of diversion, and another because its inhabitants enjoyed at once the +town and country. + +I had civility enough to hear every recommendation with a look of +curiosity, while it was made, and of acquiescence, when it was +concluded, but in my heart felt no other desire than to be free from the +disgrace of a second floor, and cared little where I should fix, if the +apartments were spacious and splendid. + +Next day a chariot was hired, and Miss Trifle was despatched to find a +lodging. She returned in the afternoon, with an account of a charming +place, to which my husband went in the morning to make the contract. +Being young and unexperienced, he took with him his friend Ned Quick, a +gentleman of great skill in rooms and furniture, who sees, at a single +glance, whatever there is to be commended or censured. Mr. Quick, at the +first view of the house, declared that it could not be inhabited, for +the sun in the afternoon shone with full glare on the windows of the +dining-room. + +Miss Trifle went out again, and soon discovered another lodging, which +Mr. Quick went to survey, and found, that, whenever the wind should blow +from the, east, all the smoke of the city would be driven upon it. + +A magnificent set of rooms was then found in one of the streets near +Westminster-Bridge, which Miss Trifle preferred to any which she had yet +seen; but Mr. Quick, having mused upon it for a time, concluded that it +would be too much exposed in the morning to the fogs that rise from the +river. + +Thus Mr. Quick proceeded to give us every day new testimonies of his +taste and circumspection; sometimes the street was too narrow for a +double range of coaches; sometimes it was an obscure place, not +inhabited by persons of quality. Some places were dirty, and some +crowded; in some houses the furniture was ill-suited, and in others the +stairs were too narrow. He had such fertility of objections that Miss +Trifle was at last tired, and desisted from all attempts for our +accommodation. + +In the mean time I have still continued to see my company on a second +floor, and am asked twenty times a day when I am to leave those odious +lodgings, in which I live tumultuously without pleasure, and expensively +without honour. My husband thinks so highly of Mr. Quick, that he cannot +be persuaded to remove without his approbation; and Mr. Quick thinks his +reputation raised by the multiplication of difficulties. + +In this distress to whom can I have recourse? I find my temper vitiated +by daily disappointment, by the sight of pleasures which I cannot +partake, and the possession of riches which I cannot enjoy. Dear Mr. +Idler, inform my husband that he is trifling away, in superfluous +vexation, the few months which custom has appropriated to delight; that +matrimonial quarrels are not easily reconciled between those that have +no children; that wherever we settle he must always find some +inconvenience; but nothing is so much to be avoided as a perpetual state +of inquiry and suspense. + +I am, Sir, + +Your humble servant, + +PEGGY HEARTLESS. + + + + +No. 87. SATURDAY, DECEMBER 15, 1759. + +Of what we know not, we can only judge by what we know. Every novelty +appears more wonderful as it is more remote from any thing with which +experience or testimony has hitherto acquainted us; and, if it passes +further beyond the notions that we have been accustomed to form, it +becomes at last incredible. + +We seldom consider that human knowledge is very narrow, that national +manners are formed by chance, that uncommon conjunctures of causes +produce rare effects, or that what is impossible at one time or place +may yet happen in another. It is always easier to deny than to inquire. +To refuse credit confers for a moment an appearance of superiority, +which every little mind is tempted to assume when it may be gained so +cheaply as by withdrawing attention from evidence, and declining the +fatigue of comparing probabilities. The most pertinacious and vehement +demonstrator may be wearied in time by continual negation; and +incredulity, which an old poet, in his address to Raleigh, calls _the +wit of fools_, obtunds the argument which it cannot answer, as woolsacks +deaden arrows though they cannot repel them. + +Many relations of travellers have been slighted as fabulous, till more +frequent voyages have confirmed their veracity; and it may reasonably be +imagined, that many ancient historians are unjustly suspected of +falsehood, because our own times afford nothing that resembles what they +tell[1]. + +Had only the writers of antiquity informed us, that there was once a +nation in which the wife lay down upon the burning pile only to mix her +ashes with those of her husband, we should have thought it a tale to be +told with that of Endymion's commerce with the moon. Had only a single +traveller related, that many nations of the earth were black, we should +have thought the accounts of the Negroes and of the Phoenix equally +credible. But of black men the numbers are too great who are now +repining under English cruelty; and the custom of voluntary cremation is +not yet lost among the ladies of India. + +Few narratives will either to men or women appear more incredible than +the histories of the Amazons; of female nations of whose constitution it +was the essential and fundamental law to exclude men from all +participation, either of publick affairs or domestick business; where +female armies marched under female captains, female farmers gathered the +harvest, female partners danced together, and female wits diverted one +another. + +Yet several ages of antiquity have transmitted accounts of the Amazons +of Caucasus; and of the Amazons of America, who have given their name to +the greatest river in the world, Condamine lately found such memorials, +as can be expected among erratick and unlettered nations, where events +are recorded only by tradition, and new settling in the country from +time to time, confuse and efface all traces of former times. + +To die with husbands, or to live without them, are the two extremes +which the prudence and moderation of European ladies have, in all ages, +equally declined; they have never been allured to death by the kindness +or civility of the politest nations, nor has the roughness and brutality +of more savage countries ever provoked them to doom their male +associates to irrevocable banishment. The Bohemian matrons are said to +have made one short struggle for superiority; but, instead of banishing +the men, they contented themselves with condemning them to servile +offices; and their constitution, thus left imperfect, was quickly +overthrown. + +There is, I think, no class of English women from whom we are in any +danger of Amazonian usurpation. The old maids seem nearest to +independence, and most likely to be animated by revenge against +masculine authority; they often speak of men with acrimonious vehemence, +but it is seldom found that they have any settled hatred against them, +and it is yet more rarely observed that they have any kindness for each +other. They will not easily combine in any plot; and if they should ever +agree to retire and fortify themselves in castles or in mountains, the +sentinel will betray the passes in spite, and the garrison will +capitulate upon easy terms, if the besiegers have handsome swordknots, +and are well supplied with fringe and lace. + +The gamesters, if they were united, would make a formidable body; and, +since they consider men only as beings that are to lose their money, +they might live together without any wish for the officiousness of +gallantry or the delights of diversified conversation. But as nothing +would hold them together but the hope of plundering one another, their +government would fail from the defect of its principles; the men would +need only to neglect them, and they would perish in a few weeks by a +civil war. + +I do not mean to censure the ladies of England as defective in knowledge +or in spirit, when I suppose them unlikely to revive the military +honours of their sex. The character of the ancient Amazons was rather +terrible than lovely; the hand could not be very delicate that was only +employed in drawing the bow and brandishing the battle-axe; their power +was maintained by cruelty, their courage was deformed by ferocity, and +their example only shows that men and women live best together. + +[1] _Le vrai n'est pas toujours le vraisemblable._ The researches of + Gibbon, Rennel and Mitford, the travels of Bruce and Belzoni have + fully proved the truth of this maxim in the case of Herodotus. + + + + +No. 88. SATURDAY, DECEMBER 22, 1759. + + _Hodie quid egisti?_ + +When the philosophers of the last age were first congregated into the +Royal Society, great expectations were raised of the sudden progress of +useful arts; the time was supposed to be near, when engines should turn +by a perpetual motion, and health be secured by the universal medicine; +when learning should be facilitated by a real character, and commerce +extended by ships which could reach their ports in defiance of the +tempest. + +But improvement is naturally slow. The society met and parted without +any visible diminution of the miseries of life. The gout and stone were +still painful, the ground that was not ploughed brought no harvest, and +neither oranges nor grapes would grow upon the hawthorn. At last, those +who were disappointed began to be angry; those likewise who hated +innovation were glad to gain an opportunity of ridiculing men who had +depreciated, perhaps with too much arrogance, the knowledge of +antiquity. And it appears, from some of their earliest apologies, that +the philosophers felt with great sensibility the unwelcome importunities +of those who were daily asking, "What have ye done?" + +The truth is, that little had been done compared with what fame had been +suffered to promise; and the question could only be answered by general +apologies and by new hopes, which, when they were frustrated, gave a new +occasion to the same vexatious inquiry. + +This fatal question has disturbed the quiet of many other minds. He that +in the latter part of his life too strictly inquires what he has done, +can very seldom receive from his own heart such an account as will give +him satisfaction. + +We do not indeed so often disappoint others as ourselves. We not only +think more highly than others of our own abilities, but allow ourselves +to form hopes which we never communicate, and please our thoughts with +employments which none ever will allot us, and with elevations to which +we are never expected to rise; and when our days and years have passed +away in common business or common amusements, and we find at last that +we have suffered our purposes to sleep till the time of action is past, +we are reproached only by our own reflections; neither our friends nor +our enemies wonder that we live and die like the rest of mankind; that +we live without notice, and die without memorial; they know not what +task we had proposed, and, therefore, cannot discern whether it is +finished. + +He that compares what he has done with what he has left undone, will +feel the effect which must always follow the comparison of imagination +with reality; he will look with contempt on his own unimportance, and +wonder to what purpose he came into the world; he will repine that he +shall leave behind him no evidence of his having been, that he has added +nothing to the system of life, but has glided from youth to age among +the crowd, without any effort for distinction. + +Man is seldom willing to let fall the opinion of his own dignity, or to +believe that he does little only because every individual is a very +little being. He is better content to want diligence than power, and +sooner confesses the depravity of his will than the imbecility of his +nature. + +From this mistaken notion of human greatness it proceeds, that many who +pretend to have made great advances in wisdom so loudly declare that +they despise themselves. If I had ever found any of the self-contemners +much irritated or pained by the consciousness of their meanness, I +should have given them consolation by observing, that a little more than +nothing is as much as can be expected from a being, who, with respect to +the multitudes about him, is himself little more than nothing. Every man +is obliged by the Supreme Master of the universe to improve all the +opportunities of good which are afforded him, and to keep in continual +activity such abilities as are bestowed upon him. But he has no reason +to repine, though his abilities are small and his opportunities few. He +that has improved the virtue, or advanced the happiness of one +fellow-creature, he that has ascertained a single moral proposition, or +added one useful experiment to natural knowledge, may be contented with +his own performance, and, with respect to mortals like himself, may +demand, like Augustus, to be dismissed at his departure with applause. + + + + +No. 89. SATURDAY, DECEMBER 29, 1759. + + [Greek: Anechou kai apechou.] EPICT. + +How evil came into the world; for what reason it is that life is +overspread with such boundless varieties of misery; why the only +thinking being of this globe is doomed to think merely to be wretched, +and to pass his time from youth to age in fearing or in suffering +calamities, is a question which philosophers have long asked, and which +philosophy could never answer. + +Religion informs us that misery and sin were produced together. The +depravation of human will was followed by a disorder of the harmony of +nature; and by that providence which often places antidotes in the +neighbourhood of poisons, vice was checked by misery, lest it should +swell to universal and unlimited dominion. + +A state of innocence and happiness is so remote from all that we have +ever seen, that though we can easily conceive it possible, and may, +therefore, hope to attain it, yet our speculations upon it must be +general and confused. We can discover that where there is universal +innocence, there will probably be universal happiness; for, why should +afflictions be permitted to infest beings who are not in danger of +corruption from blessings, and where there is no use of terrour nor +cause of punishment? But in a world like ours, where our senses assault +us, and our hearts betray us, we should pass on from crime to crime, +heedless and remorseless, if misery did not stand in our way, and our +own pains admonish us of our folly. + +Almost all the moral good, which is left among us, is the apparent +effect of physical evil. + +Goodness is divided by divines into soberness, righteousness and +godliness. Let it be examined how each of these duties would be +practised, if there were no physical evil to enforce it. + +Sobriety, or temperance, is nothing but the forbearance of pleasure; and +if pleasure was not followed by pain, who would forbear it? We see every +hour those in whom the desire of present indulgence overpowers all sense +of past and all foresight of future misery. In a remission of the gout, +the drunkard returns to his wine, and the glutton to his feast; and if +neither disease nor poverty were felt or dreaded, every one would sink +down in idle sensuality, without any care of others, or of himself. To +eat and drink, and lie down to sleep, would be the whole business of +mankind. + +Righteousness, or the system of social duty, may be subdivided into +justice and charity. Of justice one of the Heathen sages has shown, with +great acuteness, that it was impressed upon mankind only by the +inconveniencies which injustice had produced. "In the first ages," says +he, "men acted without any rule but the impulse of desire; they +practised injustice upon others, and suffered it from others in their +turn; but in time it was discovered, that the pain of suffering wrong +was greater than the pleasure of doing it; and mankind, by a general +compact, submitted to the restraint of laws, and resigned the pleasure +to escape the pain." + +Of charity it is superfluous to observe, that it could have no place if +there were no want; for of a virtue which could not be practised, the +omission could not be culpable. Evil is not only the occasional, but the +efficient cause of charity; we are incited to the relief of misery by +the consciousness that we have the same nature with the sufferer, that +we are in danger of the same distresses, and may sometimes implore the +same assistance. + +Godliness, or piety, is elevation of the mind towards the Supreme Being, +and extension of the thoughts to another life. The other life is future, +and the Supreme Being is invisible. None would have recourse to an +invisible power, but that all other subjects have eluded their hopes. +None would fix their attention upon the future, but that they are +discontented with the present. If the senses were feasted with perpetual +pleasure, they would always keep the mind in subjection. Reason has no +authority over us, but by its power to warn us against evil. + +In childhood, while our minds are yet unoccupied, religion is impressed +upon them, and the first years of almost all who have been well educated +are passed in a regular discharge of the duties of piety. But as we +advance forward into the crowds of life, innumerable delights solicit +our inclinations, and innumerable cares distract our attention; the time +of youth is passed in noisy frolicks; manhood is led on from hope to +hope, and from project to project; the dissoluteness of pleasure, the +inebriation of success, the ardour of expectation, and the vehemence of +competition, chain down the mind alike to the present scene, nor is it +remembered how soon this mist of trifles must be scattered, and the +bubbles that float upon the rivulet of life be lost for ever in the +gulph of eternity. To this consideration scarcely any man is awakened +but by some pressing and resistless evil. The death of those from whom +he derived his pleasures, or to whom he destined his possessions, some +disease which shows him the vanity of all external acquisitions, or the +gloom of age, which intercepts his prospects of long enjoyment, forces +him to fix his hopes upon another state; and when he has contended with +the tempests of life till his strength fails him, he flies at last to +the shelter of religion. + +That misery does not make all virtuous, experience too certainly informs +us; but it is no less certain that of what virtue there is, misery +produces far the greater part. Physical evil may be, therefore, endured +with patience, since it is the cause of moral good; and patience itself +is one virtue by which we are prepared for that state in which evil +shall be no more[1]. + +[1] For a fuller exposition of Johnson's sentiments on this dark and + deep subject, see his Review of Soame Jenyns' Nature and Origin of + Evil. + + + + +No. 90. SATURDAY, JANUARY 5, 1760. + +It is a complaint which has been made from time to time, and which seems +to have lately become more frequent, that English oratory, however +forcible in argument, or elegant in expression, is deficient and +inefficacious, because our speakers want the grace and energy of action. + +Among the numerous projectors who are desirous to refine our manners, +and improve our faculties, some are willing to supply the deficiency of +our speakers[1]. We have had more than one exhortation to study the +neglected art of moving the passions, and have been encouraged to +believe that our tongues, however feeble in themselves, may, by the help +of our hands and legs, obtain an uncontroulable dominion over the most +stubborn audience, animate the insensible, engage the careless, force +tears from the obdurate, and money from the avaricious. + +If by sleight of hand, or nimbleness of foot, all these wonders can be +performed, he that shall neglect to attain the free use of his limbs may +be justly censured as criminally lazy. But I am afraid that no specimen +of such effects will easily be shown. If I could once find a speaker in +'Change-Alley raising the price of stocks by the power of persuasive +gestures, I should very zealously recommend the study of his art; but +having never seen any action by which language was much assisted, I have +been hitherto inclined to doubt whether my countrymen are not blamed too +hastily for their calm and motionless utterance. + +Foreigners of many nations accompany their speech with action; but why +should their example have more influence upon us than ours upon them? +Customs are not to be changed but for better. Let those who desire to +reform us show the benefits of the change proposed. When the Frenchman +waves his hands and writhes his body in recounting the revolutions of a +game at cards, or the Neapolitan, who tells the hour of the day, shows +upon his fingers the number which he mentions; I do not perceive that +their manual exercise is of much use, or that they leave any image more +deeply impressed by their bustle and vehemence of communication. + +Upon the English stage there is no want of action; but the difficulty of +making it at once various and proper, and its perpetual tendency to +become ridiculous, notwithstanding all the advantages which art and +show, and custom and prejudice can give it, may prove how little it can +be admitted into any other place, where it can have no recommendation +but from truth and nature. + +The use of English oratory is only at the bar, in the parliament, and in +the church. Neither the judges of our laws nor the representatives of +our people would be much affected by laboured gesticulation, or believe +any man the more because he rolled his eyes, or puffed his cheeks, or +spread abroad his arms, or stamped the ground, or thumped his breast, or +turned his eyes sometimes to the ceiling and sometimes to the floor. +Upon men intent only upon truth, the arm of an orator has little power; +a credible testimony, or a cogent argument will overcome all the art of +modulation, and all the violence of contortion. + +It is well known that, in the city which may be called the parent of +oratory, all the arts of mechanical persuasion were banished from the +court of supreme judicature. The judges of the Areopagus considered +action and vociferation as a foolish appeal to the external senses, and +unworthy to be practised before those who had no desire of idle +amusement, and whose only pleasure was to discover right. + +Whether action may not be yet of use in churches, where the preacher +addresses a mingled audience, may deserve inquiry. It is certain that +the senses are more powerful as the reason is weaker; and that he whose +ears convey little to his mind, may sometimes listen with his eyes till +truth may gradually take possession of his heart. If there be any use of +gesticulation, it must be applied to the ignorant and rude, who will be +more affected by vehemence than delighted by propriety. In the pulpit +little action can be proper, for action can illustrate nothing but that +to which it may be referred by nature or by custom. He that imitates by +his hand a motion which he describes, explains it by natural similitude; +he that lays his hand on his breast, when he expresses pity, enforces +his words by a customary allusion. But theology has few topicks to which +action can be appropriated; that action which is vague and indeterminate +will at last settle into habit, and habitual peculiarities are quickly +ridiculous. + +It is, perhaps, the character of the English to despise trifles; and +that art may surely be accounted a trifle which is at once useless and +ostentatious, which can seldom be practised with propriety, and which, +as the mind is more cultivated, is less powerful. Yet as all innocent +means are to be used for the propagation of truth, I would not deter +those who are employed in preaching to common congregations from any +practice which they may find persuasive: for, compared with the +conversion of sinners, propriety and elegance are less than nothing. + +[1] Johnson might here be glancing at the oratorical lectures of the + modern _Rhetor_ Sheridan, whose plans he delighted incessantly to + ridicule. See Boswell. Many acute remarks occur in Hume's Essay on + Eloquence. + + + + +No. 91. SATURDAY, JANUARY 12, 1760. + +It is common to overlook what is near, by keeping the eye fixed upon +something remote. In the same manner present opportunities are +neglected, and attainable good is slighted, by minds busied in extensive +ranges, and intent upon future advantages. Life, however short, is made +still shorter by waste of time, and its progress towards happiness, +though naturally slow, is yet retarded by unnecessary labour. + +The difficulty of obtaining knowledge is universally confessed. To fix +deeply in the mind the principles of science, to settle their +limitations, and deduce the long succession of their consequences; to +comprehend the whole compass of complicated systems, with all the +arguments, objections and solutions, and to reposite in the intellectual +treasury the numberless facts, experiments, apophthegms and positions, +which must stand single in the memory, and of which none has any +perceptible connexion with the rest, is a task which, though undertaken +with ardour and pursued with diligence, must at last be left unfinished +by the frailty of our nature. + +To make the way to learning either less short or less smooth, is +certainly absurd; yet this is the apparent effect of the prejudice which +seems to prevail among us in favour of foreign authors, and of the +contempt of our native literature, which this excursive curiosity must +necessarily produce. Every man is more speedily instructed by his own +language, than by any other; before we search the rest of the world for +teachers, let us try whether we may not spare our trouble by finding +them at home. + +The riches of the English language are much greater than they are +commonly supposed. Many useful and valuable books lie buried in shops +and libraries, unknown and unexamined, unless some lucky compiler opens +them by chance, and finds an easy spoil of wit and learning. I am far +from intending to insinuate, that other languages are not necessary to +him who aspires to eminence, and whose whole life is devoted to study; +but to him who reads only for amusement, or whose purpose is not to deck +himself with the honours of literature, but to be qualified for +domestick usefulness, and sit down content with subordinate reputation, +we have authors sufficient to fill up all the vacancies of his time, and +gratify most of his wishes for information. + +Of our poets I need say little, because they are, perhaps, the only +authors to whom their country has done justice. We consider the whole +succession from Spenser to Pope as superior to any names which the +continent can boast; and, therefore, the poets of other nations, however +familiarly they may be sometimes mentioned, are very little read, except +by those who design to borrow their beauties. + +There is, I think, not one of the liberal arts which may not be +competently learned in the English language. He that searches after +mathematical knowledge may busy himself among his own countrymen, and +will find one or other able to instruct him in every part of those +abstruse sciences. He that is delighted with experiments, and wishes to +know the nature of bodies from certain and visible effects, is happily +placed where the mechanical philosophy was first established by a +publick institution, and from which it was spread to all other +countries. + +The more airy and elegant studies of philology and criticism have little +need of any foreign help. Though our language, not being very +analogical, gives few opportunities for grammatical researches, yet we +have not wanted authors who have considered the principles of speech; +and with critical writings we abound sufficiently to enable pedantry to +impose rules which can seldom be observed, and vanity to talk of books +which are seldom read. + +But our own language has, from the Reformation to the present time, been +chiefly dignified and adorned by the works of our divines, who, +considered as commentators, controvertists, or preachers, have +undoubtedly left all other nations far behind them. No vulgar language +can boast such treasures of theological knowledge, or such multitudes of +authors at once learned, elegant and pious. Other countries and other +communions have authors, perhaps, equal in abilities and diligence to +ours; but if we unite number with excellence, there is certainly no +nation which must not allow us to be superior. Of morality little is +necessary to be said, because it is comprehended in practical divinity, +and is, perhaps, better taught in English sermons than in any other +books, ancient and modern. Nor shall I dwell on our excellence in +metaphysical speculations, because he that reads the works of our +divines will easily discover how far human subtilty has been able to +penetrate. + +Political knowledge is forced upon us by the form of our constitution; +and all the mysteries of government are discovered in the attack or +defence of every minister. The original law of society, the rights of +subjects and the prerogatives of kings, have been considered with the +utmost nicety, sometimes profoundly investigated, and sometimes +familiarly explained. + +Thus copiously instructive is the English language; and thus needless is +all recourse to foreign writers. Let us not, therefore, make our +neighbours proud by soliciting help which we do not want, nor discourage +our own industry by difficulties which we need not suffer. + + + + +No. 92. SATURDAY, JANUARY 19, 1760. + +Whatever is useful or honourable will be desired by many who never can +obtain it; and that which cannot be obtained when it is desired, +artifice or folly will be diligent to counterfeit. Those to whom fortune +has denied gold and diamonds decorate themselves with stones and metals, +which have something of the show, but little of the value; and every +moral excellence or intellectual faculty has some vice or folly which +imitates its appearance. + +Every man wishes to be wise, and they who cannot be wise are almost +always cunning. The less is the real discernment of those whom business +or conversation brings together, the more illusions are practised; nor +is caution ever so necessary as with associates or opponents of feeble +minds. + +Cunning differs from wisdom as twilight from open day. He that walks in +the sunshine goes boldly forward by the nearest way; he sees that where +the path is straight and even, he may proceed in security, and where it +is rough and crooked he easily complies with the turns, and avoids the +obstructions. But the traveller in the dusk fears more as he sees less; +he knows there may be danger, and, therefore, suspects that he is never +safe, tries every step before he fixes his foot, and shrinks at every +noise lest violence should approach him. Wisdom comprehends at once the +end and the means, estimates easiness or difficulty, and is cautious or +confident in due proportion. Cunning discovers little at a time, and has +no other means of certainty than multiplication of stratagems and +superfluity of suspicion. The man of cunning always considers that he +can never be too safe, and, therefore, always keeps himself enveloped in +a mist, impenetrable, as he hopes, to the eye of rivalry or curiosity. + +Upon this principle Tom Double has formed a habit of eluding the most +harmless question. What he has no inclination to answer, he pretends +sometimes not to hear, and endeavours to divert the inquirer's attention +by some other subject; but if he be pressed hard by repeated +interrogation, he always evades a direct reply. Ask him whom he likes +best on the stage; he is ready to tell that there are several excellent +performers. Inquire when he was last at the coffee-house; he replies, +that the weather has been bad lately. Desire him to tell the age of any +of his acquaintance; he immediately mentions another who is older or +younger. + +Will Puzzle values himself upon a long reach. He foresees every thing +before it will happen, though he never relates his prognostications till +the event is past. Nothing has come to pass for these twenty years of +which Mr. Puzzle had not given broad hints, and told at least that it +was not proper to tell. Of those predictions, which every conclusion +will equally verify, he always claims the credit, and wonders that his +friends did not understand them. He supposes very truly that much may be +known which he knows not, and, therefore, pretends to know much of which +he and all mankind are equally ignorant. I desired his opinion yesterday +of the German war, and was told, that if the Prussians were well +supported, something great may be expected; but that they have very +powerful enemies to encounter; that the Austrian general has long +experience, and the Russians are hardy and resolute; but that no human +power is invincible. I then drew the conversation to our own affairs, +and invited him to balance the probabilities of war and peace. He told +me that war requires courage, and negociation judgment, and that the +time will come when it will be seen, whether our skill in treaty is +equal to our bravery in battle. To this general prattle he will appeal +hereafter, and will demand to have his foresight applauded, whoever +shall at last be conquered or victorious. + +With Ned Smuggle all is a secret. He believes himself watched by +observation and malignity on every side, and rejoices in the dexterity +by which he has escaped snares that never were laid. Ned holds that a +man is never deceived if he never trusts, and, therefore, will not tell +the name of his tailor or his hatter. He rides out every morning for the +air, and pleases himself with thinking that nobody knows where he has +been. When he dines with a friend, he never goes to his house the +nearest way, but walks up a by-street to perplex the scent. When he has +a coach called, he never tells him at the door the true place to which +he is going, but stops him in the way that he may give him directions +where nobody can hear him. The price of what he buys or sells is always +concealed. He often takes lodgings in the country by a wrong name, and +thinks that the world is wondering where he can be hid. All these +transactions he registers in a book, which, he says, will some time or +other amaze posterity. + +It is remarked by Bacon, that many men try to procure reputation only by +objections, of which, if they are once admitted, the nullity never +appears, because the design is laid aside. "This false feint of wisdom," +says he, "is the ruin of business." The whole power of cunning is +privative; to say nothing, and to do nothing, is the utmost of its +reach. Yet men thus narrow by nature, and mean by art, are sometimes +able to rise by the miscarriages of bravery and the openness of +integrity; and by watching failures and snatching opportunities, obtain +advantages which belong properly to higher characters. + + + + +No. 93. SATURDAY, JANUARY 26, 1760. + +Sam Softly was bred a sugar-baker; but succeeding to a considerable +estate on the death of his elder brother, he retired early from +business, married a fortune, and settled in a country-house near +Kentish-town, Sam, who formerly was a sportsman, and in his +apprenticeship used to frequent Barnet races, keeps a high chaise, with +a brace of seasoned geldings. During the summer months, the principal +passion and employment of Sam's life is to visit, in this vehicle, the +most eminent seats of the nobility and gentry in different parts of the +kingdom, with his wife and some select friends. By these periodical +excursions Sam gratifies many important purposes. He assists the several +pregnancies of his wife; he shows his chaise to the best advantage; he +indulges his insatiable curiosity for finery, which, since he has turned +gentleman, has grown upon him to an extraordinary degree; he discovers +taste and spirit, and, what is above all, he finds frequent +opportunities of displaying to the party, at every house he sees, his +knowledge of family connexion. At first, Sam was contented with driving +a friend between London and his villa. Here he prided himself in +pointing out the boxes of the citizens on each side of the road, with an +accurate detail of their respective failures or successes in trade; and +harangued on the several equipages that were accidentally passing. Here, +too, the seats, interspersed on the surrounding hills, afforded ample +matter for Sam's curious discoveries. For one, he told his companion, a +rich Jew had offered money; and that a retired widow was courted at +another, by an eminent dry-salter. At the same time he discussed the +utility, and enumerated the expenses, of the Islington turnpike. But +Sam's ambition is at present raised to nobler undertakings. + +When the happy hour of the annual expedition arrives, the seat of the +chaise is furnished with Ogilvy's Book of Roads, and a choice quantity +of cold tongues. The most alarming disaster which can happen to our +hero, who thinks he _throws a whip_ admirably well, is to be overtaken +in a road which affords no _quarter_ for wheels. Indeed, few men possess +more skill or discernment for concerting and conducting a _party of +pleasure_. When a seat is to be surveyed, he has a peculiar talent in +selecting some shady bench in the park, where the company may most +commodiously refresh themselves with cold tongue, chicken and French +rolls; and is very sagacious in discovering what cool temple in the +garden will be best adapted for drinking tea, brought for this purpose, +in the afternoon, and from which the chaise may be resumed with the +greatest convenience. In viewing the house itself, he is principally +attracted by the chairs and beds, concerning the cost of which his +minute inquiries generally gain the clearest information. An agate table +easily diverts his eyes from the most capital strokes of Rubens, and a +Turkey carpet has more charms than a Titian. Sam, however, dwells with +some attention on the family portraits, particularly the most modern +ones; and as this is a topick on which the housekeeper usually harangues +in a more copious manner, he takes this opportunity of improving his +knowledge of intermarriages. Yet, notwithstanding this appearance of +satisfaction, Sam has some objection to all he sees. One house has too +much gilding; at another, the chimney-pieces are all monuments; at a +third, he conjectures that the beautiful canal must certainly be dried +up in a hot summer. He despises the statues at Wilton, because he thinks +he can see much better carving in Westminster Abbey. But there is one +general objection which he is sure to make at almost every house, +particularly at those which are most distinguished. He allows that all +the apartments are extremely fine, but adds, with a sneer, that they are +too fine to be inhabited. + +Misapplied genius most commonly proves ridiculous. Had Sam, as Nature +intended, contentedly continued in the calmer and less conspicuous +pursuits of sugar-baking, he might have been a respectable and useful +character. At present he dissipates his life in a specious idleness, +which neither improves himself nor his friends. Those talents, which +might have benefited society, he exposes to contempt by false +pretensions. He affects pleasures which he cannot enjoy, and is +acquainted only with those subjects on which he has no right to talk, +and which it is no merit to understand[1]. + +[1] This humorous paper was written by Mr. Thomas Warton, who is said to + have sketched from a character in real life, distantly related to + himself.--Drake's Essays, Vol. II. + + + + +No. 94. SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 2, 1760. + +It is common to find young men ardent and diligent in the pursuit of +knowledge; but the progress of life very often produces laxity and +indifference; and not only those who are at liberty to choose their +business and amusements, but those likewise whose professions engage +them in literary inquiries, pass the latter part of their time without +improvement, and spend the day rather in any other entertainment than +that which they might find among their books. + +This abatement of the vigour of curiosity is sometimes imputed to the +insufficiency of learning. Men are supposed to remit their labours, +because they find their labours to have been vain; and to search no +longer after truth and wisdom, because they at last despair of finding +them. + +But this reason is, for the most part, very falsely assigned. Of +learning, as of virtue, it may be affirmed, that it is at once honoured +and neglected. Whoever forsakes it will for ever look after it with +longing, lament the loss which he does not endeavour to repair, and +desire the good which he wants resolution to seize and keep. The Idler +never applauds his own idleness, nor does any man repent of the +diligence of his youth. + +So many hindrances may obstruct the acquisition of knowledge, that there +is little reason for wondering that it is in a few hands. To the greater +part of mankind the duties of life are inconsistent with much study; and +the hours which they would spend upon letters must be stolen from their +occupations and their families. Many suffer themselves to be lured by +more sprightly and luxurious pleasures from the shades of contemplation, +where they find seldom more than a calm delight, such as, though greater +than all others, its certainty and its duration being reckoned with its +power of gratification, is yet easily quitted for some extemporary joy, +which the present moment offers, and another, perhaps, will put out of +reach. + +It is the great excellence of learning, that it borrows very little from +time or place; it is not confined to season or to climate, to cities or +to the country, but may be cultivated and enjoyed where no other +pleasure can be obtained. But this quality, which constitutes much of +its value, is one occasion of neglect; what may be done at all times +with equal propriety, is deferred from day to day, till the mind is +gradually reconciled to the omission, and the attention is turned to +other objects. Thus habitual idleness gains too much power to be +conquered, and the soul shrinks from the idea of intellectual labour and +intenseness of meditation. + +That those who profess to advance learning sometimes obstruct it, cannot +be denied; the continual multiplication of books not only distracts +choice, but disappoints inquiry. To him that has moderately stored his +mind with images, few writers afford any novelty, or what little they +have to add to the common stock of learning, is so buried in the mass of +general notions, that, like silver mingled with the ore of lead, it is +too little to pay for the labour of separation; and he that has often +been deceived by the promise of a title, at last grows weary of +examining, and is tempted to consider all as equally fallacious. + +There are indeed some repetitions always lawful, because they never +deceive. He that writes the history of past times, undertakes only to +decorate known facts by new beauties of method or of style, or at most +to illustrate them by his own reflections. The author of a system, +whether moral or physical, is obliged to nothing beyond care of +selection and regularity of disposition. But there are others who claim +the name of authors merely to disgrace it, and fill the world with +volumes only to bury letters in their own rubbish. The traveller, who +tells, in a pompous folio, that he saw the Pantheon at Rome, and the +Medicean Venus at Florence; the natural historian, who, describing the +productions of a narrow island, recounts all that it has in common with +every other part of the world; the collector of antiquities, that +accounts every thing a curiosity which the ruins of Herculaneum happen +to emit, though an instrument already shown in a thousand repositories, +or a cup common to the ancients, the moderns and all mankind; may be +justly censured as the persecutors of students, and the thieves of that +time which never can be restored. + + + + +No. 95. SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 9, 1760. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Mr. Idler, + +It is, I think, universally agreed, that seldom any good is gotten by +complaint; yet we find that few forbear to complain, but those who are +afraid of being reproached as the authors of their own miseries. I hope, +therefore, for the common permission to lay my case before you and your +readers, by which I shall disburden my heart, though I cannot hope to +receive either assistance or consolation. + +I am a trader, and owe my fortune to frugality and industry. I began +with little; but by the easy and obvious method of spending less than I +gain, I have every year added something to my stock, and expect to have +a seat in the common-council at the next election. + +My wife, who was as prudent as myself, died six years ago, and left me +one son and one daughter, for whose sake I resolved never to marry +again, and rejected the overtures of Mrs. Squeeze, the broker's widow, +who had ten thousand pounds at her own disposal. + +I bred my son at a school near Islington; and when he had learned +arithmetick, and wrote a good hand, I took him into the shop, designing, +in about ten years, to retire to Stratford or Hackney, and leave him +established in the business. + +For four years he was diligent and sedate, entered the shop before it +was opened, and when it was shut, always examined the pins of the +window. In any intermission of business it was his constant practice to +peruse the leger. I had always great hopes of him, when I observed how +sorrowfully he would shake his head over a bad debt, and how eagerly he +would listen to me when I told him that he might at one time or other +become an alderman. + +We lived together with mutual confidence, till, unluckily, a visit was +paid him by two of his school-fellows, who were placed, I suppose, in +the army, because they were fit for nothing better: they came glittering +in their military dress, accosted their old acquaintance, and invited +him to a tavern, where, as I have been since informed, they ridiculed +the meanness of commerce, and wondered how a youth of spirit could spend +the prime of life behind a counter. I did not suspect any mischief. I +knew my son was never without money in his pocket, and was better able +to pay his reckoning than his companions; and expected to see him return +triumphing in his own advantages, and congratulating himself that he was +not one of those who expose their heads to a musket bullet for three +shillings a day. + +He returned sullen and thoughtful; I supposed him sorry for the hard +fortune of his friends; and tried to comfort him, by saying that the war +would soon be at an end, and that, if they had any honest occupation, +half-pay would be a pretty help. He looked at me with indignation; and +snatching up his candle, told me, as he went up stairs, that _he hoped +to see a battle yet_. + +Why he should hope to see a battle, I could not conceive, but let him go +quietly to sleep away his folly. Next day he made two mistakes in the +first bill, disobliged a customer by surly answers, and dated all his +entries in the journal in a wrong month. At night he met his military +companions again, came home late, and quarrelled with the maid. + +From this fatal interview he has gradually lost all his laudable +passions and desires. He soon grew useless in the shop, where, indeed, I +did not willingly trust him any longer; for he often mistook the price +of goods to his own loss, and once gave a promissory note instead of a +receipt. + +I did not know to what degree he was corrupted, till an honest tailor +gave me notice that he had bespoke a laced suit, which was to be left +for him at a house kept by the sister of one of my journeymen. I went to +this clandestine lodging, and found, to my amazement, all the ornaments +of a fine gentleman, which I know not whether he has taken upon credit, +or purchased with money subducted from the shop. + +This detection has made him desperate. He now openly declares his +resolution to be a gentleman; says that his soul is too great for a +counting-house; ridicules the conversation of city taverns; talks of new +plays, and boxes and ladies; gives duchesses for his toasts; carries +silver, for readiness, in his waistcoat-pocket; and comes home at night +in a chair, with such thunders at the door, as have more than once +brought the watchmen from their stands. + +Little expenses will not hurt us; and I could forgive a few juvenile +frolicks, if he would be careful of the main; but his favourite topick +is contempt of money, which, he says, is of no use but to be spent. +Riches, without honour, he holds empty things; and once told me to my +face, that wealthy plodders were only purveyors to men of spirit. + +He is always impatient in the company of his old friends, and seldom +speaks till he is warmed with wine; he then entertains us with accounts +that we do not desire to hear, of intrigues among lords and ladies, and +quarrels between officers of the guards; shows a miniature on his +snuff-box, and wonders that any man can look upon the new dancer without +rapture. + +All this is very provoking; and yet all this might be borne, if the boy +could support his pretensions. But, whatever he may think, he is yet far +from the accomplishments which he has endeavoured to purchase at so dear +a rate. I have watched him in publick places. He sneaks in like a man +that knows he is where he should not be; he is proud to catch the +slightest salutation, and often claims it when it is not intended. Other +men receive dignity from dress, but my booby looks always more meanly +for his finery. Dear Mr. Idler, tell him what must at last become of a +fop, whom pride will not suffer to be a trader, and whom long habits in +a shop forbid to be a gentleman. + +I am, Sir, &c. + +TIM WAINSCOT. + + + + +No. 96. SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 16, 1760. + + _Qui se volet esse potentem, + Animos domet ille feroces: + Nec victa libidine colla + Foedis submittat habenis._ BOETHIUS. + +Hacho, a king of Lapland, was in his youth the most renowned of the +Northern warriors. His martial achievements remain engraved on a pillar +of flint in the rocks of Hanga, and are to this day solemnly carolled to +the harp by the Laplanders, at the fires with which, they celebrate +their nightly festivities. Such was his intrepid spirit, that he +ventured to pass the lake Vether to the isle of Wizards, where he +descended alone into the dreary vault in which a magician had been kept +bound for six ages, and read the Gothick characters inscribed on his +brazen mace. His eye was so piercing, that, as ancient chronicles +report, he could blunt the weapons of his enemies only by looking at +them. At twelve years of age he carried an iron vessel of a prodigious +weight, for the length of five furlongs, in the presence of all the +chiefs of his father's castle. + +Nor was he less celebrated for his prudence and wisdom. Two of his +proverbs are yet remembered and repeated among Laplanders. To express +the vigilance of the Supreme Being, he was wont to say, "Odin's belt is +always buckled." To show that the most prosperous condition of life is +often hazardous, his lesson was, "When you slide on the smoothest ice, +beware of pits beneath." He consoled his countrymen, when they were once +preparing to leave the frozen deserts of Lapland, and resolved to seek +some warmer climate, by telling them, that the Eastern nations, +notwithstanding their boasted fertility, passed every night amidst the +horrours of anxious apprehension, and were inexpressibly affrighted, and +almost stunned, every morning, with the noise of the sun while he was +rising. + +His temperance and severity of manners were his chief praise. In his +early years he never tasted wine; nor would he drink out of a painted +cup. He constantly slept in his armour, with his spear in his hand; nor +would he use a battle-axe whose handle was inlaid with brass. He did +not, however, persevere in this contempt of luxury; nor did he close his +days with honour. + +One evening, after hunting the gulos or wild-dog, being bewildered in a +solitary forest, and having passed the fatigues of the day without any +interval of refreshment, he discovered a large store of honey in the +hollow of a pine. This was a dainty which he had never tasted before; +and being at once faint and hungry, he fed greedily upon it. From this +unusual and delicious repast he received so much satisfaction, that, at +his return home, he commanded honey to be served up at his table every +day. His palate, by degrees, became refined and vitiated; he began to +lose his native relish for simple fare, and contracted a habit of +indulging himself in delicacies; he ordered the delightful gardens of +his castle to be thrown open, in which the most luscious fruits had been +suffered to ripen and decay, unobserved and untouched, for many +revolving autumns, and gratified his appetite with luxurious desserts. +At length he found it expedient to introduce wine, as an agreeable +improvement, or a necessary ingredient, to his new way of living; and +having once tasted it, he was tempted, by little and little, to give a +loose to the excesses of intoxication. His general simplicity of life +was changed; he perfumed his apartments by burning the wood of the most +aromatick fir, and commanded his helmet to be ornamented with beautiful +rows of the teeth of the raindeer. Indolence and effeminacy stole upon +him by pleasing and imperceptible gradations, relaxed the sinews of his +resolution, and extinguished his thirst of military glory. + +While Hacho was thus immersed in pleasure and in repose, it was reported +to him, one morning, that the preceding night, a disastrous omen had +been discovered, and that bats and hideous birds had drunk up the oil +which nourished the perpetual lamp in the temple of Odin. About the same +time, a messenger arrived to tell him, that the king of Norway had +invaded his kingdom with a formidable army. Hacho, terrified as he was +with the omen of the night, and enervated with indulgence, roused +himself from his voluptuous lethargy, and, recollecting some faint and +few sparks of veteran valour, marched forward to meet him. Both armies +joined battle in the forest where Hacho had been lost after hunting; and +it so happened, that the king of Norway challenged him to single combat, +near the place where he had tasted the honey. The Lapland chief, languid +and long disused to arms, was soon overpowered; he fell to the ground; +and before his insulting adversary struck his head from his body, +uttered this exclamation, which the Laplanders still use as an early +lesson to their children: "The vicious man should date his destruction +from the first temptation. How justly do I fall a sacrifice to sloth and +luxury, in the place where I first yielded to those allurements which +seduced me to deviate from temperance and innocence! The honey which I +tasted in this forest, and not the hand of the king of Norway, conquers +Hacho[1]." + +[1] By Mr. Thomas Warton. + + + + +No. 97. SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 23, 1760. + +It may, I think, be justly observed, that few books disappoint their +readers more than the narrations of travellers. One part of mankind is +naturally curious to learn the sentiments, manners, and condition of the +rest; and every mind that has leisure or power to extend its views, must +be desirous of knowing in what proportion Providence has distributed the +blessings of nature, or the advantages of art, among the several nations +of the earth. + +This general desire easily procures readers to every book from which it +can expect gratification. The adventurer upon unknown coasts, and the +describer of distant regions, is always welcomed as a man who has +laboured for the pleasure of others, and who is able to enlarge our +knowledge and rectify our opinions; but when the volume is opened, +nothing is found but such general accounts as leave no distinct idea +behind them, or such minute enumerations as few can read with either +profit or delight. + +Every writer of travels should consider, that, like all other authors, +he undertakes either to instruct or please, or to mingle pleasure with +instruction. He that instructs must offer to the mind something to be +imitated, or something to be avoided; he that pleases must offer new +images to his reader, and enable him to form a tacit comparison of his +own state with that of others. + +The greater part of travellers tell nothing, because their method of +travelling supplies them with nothing to be told. He that enters a town +at night, and surveys it in the morning, and then hastens away to +another place, and guesses at the manners of the inhabitants by the +entertainment which his inn afforded him, may please himself for a time +with a hasty change of scenes, and a confused remembrance of palaces and +churches; he may gratify his eye with a variety of landscapes, and +regale his palate with a succession of vintages; but let him be +contented to please himself without endeavouring to disturb others. + +Why should he record excursions by which nothing could be learned, or +wish to make a show of knowledge, which, without some power of intuition +unknown to other mortals, he never could attain? + +Of those who crowd the world with their itineraries, some have no other +purpose than to describe the face of the country; those who sit idle at +home, and are curious to know what is done or suffered in distant +countries, may be informed by one of these wanderers, that on a certain +day he set out early with the caravan, and in the first hour's march +saw, towards the south, a hill covered with trees, then passed over a +stream, which ran northward with a swift course, but which is probably +dry in the summer months; that an hour after he saw something to the +right which looked at a distance like a castle with towers, but which he +discovered afterwards to be a craggy rock; that he then entered a +valley, in which he saw several trees tall and flourishing, watered by a +rivulet not marked in the maps, of which he was not able to learn the +name; that the road afterward grew stony, and the country uneven, where +he observed among the hills many hollows worn by torrents, and was told +that the road was passable only part of the year; that going on they +found the remains of a building, once, perhaps, a fortress to secure the +pass, or to restrain the robbers, of which the present inhabitants can +give no other account than that it is haunted by fairies; that they went +to dine at the foot of a rock, and travelled the rest of the day along +the banks of a river, from which the road turned aside towards evening, +and brought them within sight of a village, which was once a +considerable town, but which afforded them neither good victuals nor +commodious lodging. + +Thus he conducts his reader through wet and dry, over rough and smooth, +without incidents, without reflection; and, if he obtains his company +for another day, will dismiss him again at night, equally fatigued with +a like succession of rocks and streams, mountains and ruins. + +This is the common style of those sons of enterprise, who visit savage +countries, and range through solitude and desolation; who pass a desert, +and tell that it is sandy; who cross a valley, and find that it is +green. There are others of more delicate sensibility, that visit only +the realms of elegance and softness; that wander through Italian +palaces, and amuse the gentle reader with catalogues of pictures; that +hear masses in magnificent churches, and recount the number of the +pillars or variegations of the pavement. And there are yet others, who, +in disdain of trifles, copy inscriptions elegant and rude, ancient and +modern; and transcribe into their book the walls of every edifice, +sacred or civil. He that reads these books must consider his labour as +its own reward; for he will find nothing on which attention can fix, or +which memory can retain. + +He that would travel for the entertainment of others, should remember +that the great object of remark is human life. Every nation has +something peculiar in its manufactures, its works of genius, its +medicines, its agriculture, its customs and its policy. He only is a +useful traveller, who brings home something by which his country may be +benefited; who procures some supply of want, or some mitigation of evil, +which may enable his readers to compare their condition with that of +others, to improve it whenever it is worse, and whenever it is better to +enjoy it. + + + + +No. 98. SATURDAY, MARCH 1, 1760. + +TO THE IDLER. + +Sir, + +I am the daughter of a gentleman, who during his lifetime enjoyed a +small income which arose from a pension from the court, by which he was +enabled to live in a genteel and comfortable manner. + +By the situation of life in which he was placed, he was frequently +introduced into the company of those of much greater fortunes than his +own, among whom he was always received with complaisance, and treated +with civility. + +At six years of age I was sent to a boarding-school in the country, at +which I continued till my father's death. This melancholy event happened +at a time when I was by no means of sufficient age to manage for myself, +while the passions of youth continued unsubdued, and before experience +could guide my sentiments or my actions. + +I was then taken from school by an uncle, to the care of whom my father +had committed me on his dying-bed. With him I lived several years; and, +as he was unmarried, the management of his family was committed to me. +In this character I always endeavoured to acquit myself, if not with +applause, at least without censure. + +At the age of twenty-one, a young gentleman of some fortune paid his +addresses to me, and offered me terms of marriage. This proposal I +should readily have accepted, because from vicinity of residence, and +from many opportunities of observing his behaviour, I had, in some sort, +contracted an affection for him. My uncle, for what reason I do not +know, refused his consent to this alliance, though it would have been +complied with by the father of the young gentleman; and, as the future +condition of my life was wholly dependant on him, I was not willing to +disoblige him, and, therefore, though unwillingly, declined the offer. + +My uncle, who possessed a plentiful fortune, frequently hinted to me in +conversation, that at his death I should be provided for in such a +manner that I should be able to make my future life comfortable and +happy. As this promise was often repeated, I was the less anxious about +any provision for myself. In a short time my uncle was taken ill, and +though all possible means were made use of for his recovery, in a few +days he died. + +The sorrow arising from the loss of a relation, by whom I had been +always treated with the greatest kindness, however grievous, was not the +worst of my misfortunes. As he enjoyed an almost uninterrupted state of +health, he was the less mindful of his dissolution, and died intestate; +by which means his whole fortune devolved to a nearer relation, the heir +at law. + +Thus excluded from all hopes of living in the manner with which I have +so long flattered myself, I am doubtful what method I shall take to +procure a decent maintenance. I have been educated in a manner that has +set me above a state of servitude, and my situation renders me unfit for +the company of those with whom I have hitherto conversed. But, though +disappointed in my expectations, I do not despair. I will hope that +assistance may still be obtained for innocent distress, and that +friendship, though rare, is yet not impossible to be found. + +I am, Sir, Your humble servant, + +SOPHIA HEEDFUL.[1] + +[1] By an unknown correspondent. + + + + +No. 99. SATURDAY, MARCH 8, 1760. + +As Ortogrul of Basra was one day wandering along the streets of Bagdat, +musing on the varieties of merchandise which the shops offered to his +view, and observing the different occupations which busied the +multitudes on every side, he was awakened from the tranquillity of +meditation by a crowd that obstructed his passage. He raised his eyes, +and saw the chief visier, who, having returned from the divan, was +entering his palace. + +Ortogrul mingled with the attendants, and being supposed to have some +petition for the visier, was permitted to enter. He surveyed the +spaciousness of the apartments, admired the walls hung with golden +tapestry, and the floors covered with silken carpets, and despised the +simple neatness of his own little habitation. + +Surely, said he to himself, this palace is the seat of happiness, where +pleasure succeeds to pleasure, and discontent and sorrow can have no +admission. Whatever Nature has provided for the delight of sense, is +here spread forth to be enjoyed. What can mortals hope or imagine, which +the master of this palace has not obtained? The dishes of luxury cover +his table, the voice of harmony lulls him in his bowers; he breathes the +fragrance of the groves of Java, and sleeps upon the down of the cygnets +of Ganges. He speaks, and his mandate is obeyed; he wishes, and his wish +is gratified; all whom he sees obey him, and all whom he hears flatter +him. How different, Ortogrul, is thy condition, who art doomed to the +perpetual torments of unsatisfied desire, and who hast no amusement in +thy power that can withhold thee from thy own reflections! They tell +thee that thou art wise; but what does wisdom avail with poverty? None +will flatter the poor, and the wise have very little power of flattering +themselves. That man is surely the most wretched of the sons of +wretchedness, who lives with his own faults and follies always before +him, and who has none to reconcile him to himself by praise and +veneration. I have long sought content, and have not found it; I will +from this moment endeavour to be rich. + +Full of this new resolution, he shut himself up in his chamber for six +months, to deliberate how he should grow rich; he sometimes proposed to +offer himself as a counsellor to one of the kings of India, and +sometimes resolved to dig for diamonds in the mines of Golconda. One +day, after some hours passed in violent fluctuation of opinion, sleep +insensibly seized him in his chair; he dreamed that he was ranging a +desert country in search of some one that might teach him to grow rich; +and as he stood on the top of a hill shaded with cypress, in doubt +whither to direct his steps, his father appeared on a sudden standing +before him. Ortogrul, said the old man, I know thy perplexity; listen to +thy father; turn thine eye on the opposite mountain. Ortogrul looked, +and saw a torrent tumbling down the rocks, roaring with the noise of +thunder, and scattering its foam on the impending woods. Now, said his +father, behold the valley that lies between the hills. Ortogrul looked, +and espied a little well, out of which issued a small rivulet. Tell me +now, said his father, dost thou wish for sudden affluence, that may pour +upon thee like the mountain torrent, or for a slow and gradual increase, +resembling the rill gliding from the well? Let me be quickly rich, said +Ortogrul; let the golden stream be quick and violent. Look round thee, +said his father, once again. Ortogrul looked, and perceived the channel +of the torrent dry and dusty; but following the rivulet from the well, +he traced it to a wide lake, which the supply, slow and constant, kept +always full. He waked, and determined to grow rich by silent profit and +persevering industry. + +Having sold his patrimony, he engaged in merchandise, and in twenty +years purchased lands, on which he raised a house, equal in +sumptuousness to that of the visier, to which he invited all the +ministers of pleasure, expecting to enjoy all the felicity which he had +imagined riches able to afford. Leisure soon made him weary of himself, +and he longed to be persuaded that he was great and happy. He was +courteous and liberal; he gave all that approached him hopes of pleasing +him, and all who should please him hopes of being rewarded. Every art of +praise was tried, and every source of adulatory fiction was exhausted. +Ortogrul heard his flatterers without delight, because he found himself +unable to believe them. His own heart told him its frailties, his own +understanding reproached him with his faults. How long, said he, with a +deep sigh, have I been labouring in vain to amass wealth which at last +is useless! Let no man hereafter wish to be rich, who is already too +wise to be flattered. + + + + +No. 100. SATURDAY, MARCH 15, 1760, + +TO THE IDLER. + +Sir, + +The uncertainty and defects of language have produced very frequent +complaints among the learned; yet there still remain many words among us +undefined, which are very necessary to be rightly understood, and which +produce very mischievous mistakes when they are erroneously interpreted. + +I lived in a state of celibacy beyond the usual time. In the hurry first +of pleasure, and afterwards of business, I felt no want of a domestick +companion; but becoming weary of labour, I soon grew more weary of +idleness, and thought it reasonable to follow the custom of life, and to +seek some solace of my cares in female tenderness, and some amusement of +my leisure in female cheerfulness. + +The choice which has been long delayed is commonly made at last with +great caution. My resolution was, to keep my passions neutral, and to +marry only in compliance with my reason. I drew upon a page of my +pocket-book a scheme of all female virtues and vices, with the vices +which border upon every virtue, and the virtues which are allied to +every vice. I considered that wit was sarcastick, and magnanimity +imperious; that avarice was economical, and ignorance obsequious; and +having estimated the good and evil of every quality, employed my own +diligence, and that of my friends, to find the lady in whom nature and +reason had reached that happy mediocrity which is equally remote from +exuberance and deficience. + +Every woman had her admirers and her censurers; and the expectations +which one raised were by another quickly depressed; yet there was one in +whose favour almost all suffrages concurred. Miss Gentle was universally +allowed to be a good sort of woman. Her fortune was not large, but so +prudently managed, that she wore finer clothes, and saw more company, +than many who were known to be twice as rich. Miss Gentle's visits were +every where welcome; and whatever family she favoured with her company, +she always left behind her such a degree of kindness as recommended her +to others. Every day extended her acquaintance; and all who knew her +declared, that they never met with a better sort of woman. + +To Miss Gentle I made my addresses, and was received with great equality +of temper. She did not in the days of courtship assume the privilege of +imposing rigorous commands, or resenting slight offences. If I forgot +any of her injunctions, I was gently reminded; if I missed the minute of +appointment, I was easily forgiven. I foresaw nothing in marriage but a +halcyon calm, and longed for the happiness which was to be found in the +inseparable society of a good sort of woman. + +The jointure was soon settled by the intervention of friends, and the +day came in which Miss Gentle was made mine for ever. The first month +was passed easily enough in receiving and repaying the civilities of our +friends. The bride practised with great exactness all the niceties of +ceremony, and distributed her notice in the most punctilious proportions +to the friends who surrounded us with their happy auguries. + +But the time soon came when we were left to ourselves, and were to +receive our pleasures from each other; and I then began to perceive that +I was not formed to be much delighted by a good sort of woman. Her great +principle is, that the orders of a family must not be broken. Every hour +of the day has its employment inviolably appropriated; nor will any +importunity persuade her to walk in the garden at the time which she has +devoted to her needlework, or to sit up stairs in that part of the +forenoon which she has accustomed herself to spend in the back parlour. +She allows herself to sit half an hour after breakfast, and an hour +after dinner; while I am talking or reading to her, she keeps her eye +upon her watch, and when the minute of departure comes, will leave an +argument unfinished, or the intrigue of a play unravelled. She once +called me to supper when I was watching an eclipse, and summoned me at +another time to bed when I was going to give directions at a fire. + +Her conversation is so habitually cautious, that she never talks to me +but in general terms, as to one whom it is dangerous to trust. For +discriminations of character she has no names: all whom she mentions are +honest men and agreeable women. She smiles not by sensation, but by +practice. Her laughter is never excited but by a joke, and her notion of +a joke is not very delicate. The repetition of a good joke does not +weaken its effect; if she has laughed once, she will laugh again. + +She is an enemy to nothing but ill-nature and pride; but she has +frequent reason to lament that they are so frequent in the world. All +who are not equally pleased with the good and the bad, with the elegant +and gross, with the witty and the dull, all who distinguish excellence +from defect, she considers as ill-natured; and she condemns as proud all +who repress impertinence or quell presumption, or expect respect from +any other eminence than that of fortune, to which she is always willing +to pay homage. + +There are none whom she openly hates, for if once she suffers, or +believes herself to suffer, any contempt or insult, she never dismisses +it from her mind, but takes all opportunities to tell how easily she can +forgive. There are none whom she loves much better than others; for when +any of her acquaintance decline in the opinion of the world, she always +finds it inconvenient to visit them; her affection continues unaltered, +but it is impossible to be intimate with the whole town. + +She daily exercises her benevolence by pitying every misfortune that +happens to every family within her circle of notice; she is in hourly +terrours lest one should catch cold in the rain, and another be frighted +by the high wind. Her charity she shows by lamenting that so many poor +wretches should languish in the streets, and by wondering what the great +can think on that they do so little good with such large estates. + +Her house is elegant, and her table dainty, though she has little taste +of elegance, and is wholly free from vicious luxury; but she comforts +herself that nobody can say that her house is dirty, or that her dishes +are not well drest. + +This, Mr. Idler, I have found, by long experience, to be the character +of a good sort of woman, which I have sent you for the information of +those by whom a _good sort of woman_ and a _good woman_, may happen to +be used as equivalent terms, and who may suffer by the mistake, like + +Your humble servant, + +TIM WARNER. + + + + +No. 101. SATURDAY, MARCH 22, 1760. + + _Carpe hilaris: fuget heu! non revocanda dies._ + +Omar, the son of Hussan, had passed seventy-five years in honour and +prosperity. The favour of three successive califs had filled his house +with gold and silver; and, whenever he appeared, the benedictions of the +people proclaimed his passage. + +Terrestrial happiness is of short continuance. The brightness of the +flame is wasting its fuel; the fragrant flower is passing away in its +own odours. The vigour of Omar began to fail, the curls of beauty fell +from his head, strength departed from his hands, and agility from his +feet. He gave back to the calif the keys of trust and the seals of +secrecy; and sought no other pleasure for the remains of life than the +converse of the wise, and the gratitude of the good. + +The powers of his mind were yet unimpaired. His chamber was filled by +visitants, eager to catch the dictates of experience, and officious to +pay the tribute of admiration. Caled, the son of the viceroy of Egypt, +entered every day early, and retired late. He was beautiful and +eloquent; Omar admired his wit, and loved his docility. Tell me, said +Caled, thou to whose voice nations have listened, and whose wisdom is +known to the extremities of Asia, tell me how I may resemble Omar the +prudent. The arts by which you have gained power and preserved it, are +to you no longer necessary or useful; impart to me the secret of your +conduct, and teach me the plan upon which your wisdom has built your +fortune. + +Young man, said Omar, it is of little use to form plans of life. When I +took my first survey of the world, in my twentieth year, having +considered the various conditions of mankind, in the hour of solitude I +said thus to myself, leaning against a cedar which spread its branches +over my head: Seventy years are allowed to man; I have yet fifty +remaining: ten years I will allot to the attainment of knowledge, and +ten I will pass in foreign countries; I shall be learned, and, +therefore, shall be honoured; every city will shout at my arrival, and +every student will solicit my friendship. Twenty years thus passed will +store my mind with images, which I shall be busy through the rest of my +life in combining and comparing. I shall revel in inexhaustible +accumulations of intellectual riches; I shall find new pleasures for +every moment, and shall never more be weary of myself. I will, however, +not deviate too far from the beaten track of life, but will try what can +be found in female delicacy. I will marry a wife beautiful as the +Houries, and wise as Zobeide; with her I will live twenty years within +the suburbs of Bagdat, in every pleasure that wealth can purchase and +fancy can invent. I will then retire to a rural dwelling, pass my last +days in obscurity and contemplation, and lie silently down on the bed of +death. Through my life it shall be my settled resolution, that I will +never depend upon the smile of princes; that I will never stand exposed +to the artifices of courts; I will never pant for publick honours, nor +disturb my quiet with affairs of state. Such was my scheme of life, +which I impressed indelibly upon my memory. + +The first part of my ensuing time was to be spent in search of +knowledge; and I know not how I was diverted from my design. I had no +visible impediments without, nor any ungovernable passions within. I +regarded knowledge as the highest honour and the most engaging pleasure; +yet day stole upon day, and month glided after month, till I found that +seven years of the first ten had vanished, and left nothing behind them. +I now postponed my purpose of travelling; for why should I go abroad +while so much remained to be learned at home? I immured myself for four +years, and studied the laws of the empire. The fame of my skill reached +the judges; I was found able to speak upon doubtful questions, and was +commanded to stand at the footstool of the calif. I was heard with +attention, I was consulted with confidence, and the love of praise +fastened on my heart. + +I still wished to see distant countries, listened with rapture to the +relations of travellers, and resolved some time to ask my dismission, +that I might feast my soul with novelty; but my presence was always +necessary, and the stream of business hurried me along. Sometimes I was +afraid lest I should be charged with ingratitude; but I still proposed +to travel, and, therefore, would, not confine myself by marriage. + +In my fiftieth year I began to suspect that the time of travelling was +past, and thought it best to lay hold on the felicity yet in my power, +and indulge myself in domestick pleasures. But at fifty no man easily +finds a woman beautiful as the Houries, and wise as Zobeide. I inquired +and rejected, consulted and deliberated, till the sixty-second year made +me ashamed of gazing upon girls. I had now nothing left but retirement, +and for retirement I never found a time, till disease forced me from +publick employment. + +Such was my scheme, and such has been its consequence. With an +insatiable thirst for knowledge, I trifled away the years of +improvement; with a restless desire of seeing different countries, I +have always resided in the same city; with the highest expectation of +connubial felicity, I have lived unmarried; and with unalterable +resolutions of contemplative retirement, I am going to die within the +walls of Bagdat. + + + + +No. 102. SATURDAY, MARCH 29, 1760. + +It very seldom happens to man that his business is his pleasure. What is +done from necessity is so often to be done when against the present +inclination, and so often fills the mind with anxiety, that an habitual +dislike steals upon us, and we shrink involuntarily from the remembrance +of our task. This is the reason why almost every one wishes to quit his +employment; he does not like another state, but is disgusted with his +own. + +From this unwillingness to perform more than is required of that which +is commonly performed with reluctance, it proceeds that few authors +write their own lives. Statesmen, courtiers, ladies, generals and seamen +have given to the world their own stories, and the events with which +their different stations have made them acquainted. They retired to the +closet as to a place of quiet and amusement, and pleased themselves with +writing, because they could lay down the pen whenever they were weary. +But the author, however conspicuous, or however important, either in the +publick eye or in his own, leaves his life to be related by his +successors, for he cannot gratify his vanity but by sacrificing his +ease. + +It is commonly supposed that the uniformity of a studious life affords +no matter for a narration: but the truth is, that of the most studious +life a great part passes without study. An author partakes of the common +condition of humanity; he is born and married like another man; he has +hopes and fears, expectations and disappointments, griefs and joys, and +friends and enemies, like a courtier or a statesman; nor can I conceive +why his affairs should not excite curiosity as much as the whisper of a +drawing-room or the factions of a camp. + +Nothing detains the reader's attention more powerfully than deep +involutions of distress, or sudden vicissitudes of fortune; and these +might be abundantly afforded by memoirs of the sons of literature. They +are entangled by contracts which they know not how to fulfil, and +obliged to write on subjects which they do not understand. Every +publication is a new period of time, from which some increase or +declension of fame is to be reckoned. The gradations of a hero's life +are from battle to battle, and of an author's from book to book. + +Success and miscarriage have the same effects in all conditions. The +prosperous are feared, hated and flattered; and the unfortunate avoided, +pitied and despised. No sooner is a book published than the writer may +judge of the opinion of the world. If his acquaintance press round him +in publick places, or salute him from the other side of the street; if +invitations to dinner come thick upon him, and those with whom he dines +keep him to supper; if the ladies turn to him when his coat is plain, +and the footmen serve him with attention and alacrity; he may be sure +that his work has been praised by some leader of literary fashions. + +Of declining reputation the symptoms are not less easily observed. If +the author enters a coffee-house, he has a box to himself; if he calls +at a bookseller's, the boy turns his back and, what is the most fatal of +all prognosticks, authors will visit him in a morning, and talk to him +hour after hour of the malevolence of criticks, the neglect of merit, +the bad taste of the age and the candour of posterity. + +All this, modified and varied by accident and custom, would form very +amusing scenes of biography, and might recreate many a mind which is +very little delighted with conspiracies or battles, intrigues of a +court, or debates of a parliament; to this might be added all the +changes of the countenance of a patron, traced from the first glow which +flattery raises in his cheek, through ardour of fondness, vehemence of +promise, magnificence of praise, excuse of delay, and lamentation of +inability, to the last chill look of final dismission, when the one +grows weary of soliciting, and the other of hearing solicitation. Thus +copious are the materials which have been hitherto suffered to lie +neglected, while the repositories of every family that has produced a +soldier or a minister are ransacked, and libraries are crowded with +useless folios of state-papers which will never be read, and which +contribute nothing to valuable knowledge. + +I hope the learned will be taught to know their own strength and their +value, and, instead of devoting their lives to the honour of those who +seldom thank them for their labours, resolve at last to do justice to +themselves. + + + + +No. 103. SATURDAY, APRIL 5, 1760. + + _Respicere ad longae jussit spatia ultima vitae_. JUV. Sat. x. 275. + +Much of the pain and pleasure of mankind arises from the conjectures +which every one makes of the thoughts of others; we all enjoy praise +which we do not hear, and resent contempt which we do not see. The Idler +may, therefore, be forgiven, if he suffers his imagination to represent +to him what his readers will say or think when they are informed that +they have now his last paper in their hands. + +Value is more frequently raised by scarcity than by use. That which lay +neglected when it was common, rises in estimation as its quantity +becomes less. We seldom learn the true want of what we have till it is +discovered that we can have no more. + +This essay will, perhaps, be read with care even by those who have not +yet attended to any other; and he that finds this late attention +recompensed, will not forbear to wish that he had bestowed it sooner. + +Though the Idler and his readers have contracted no close friendship, +they are, perhaps, both unwilling to part. There are few things not +purely evil, of which we can say, without some emotion of uneasiness, +_this is the last_. Those who never could agree together, shed tears +when mutual discontent has determined them to final separation; of a +place which has been frequently visited, though without pleasure, the +last look is taken with heaviness of heart; and the Idler, with all his +chilness of tranquillity, is not wholly unaffected by the thought that +his last essay is now before him. + +The secret horrour of the last is inseparable from a thinking being, +whose life is limited, and to whom death is dreadful. We always make a +secret comparison between a part and the whole; the termination of any +period of life reminds us that life itself has likewise its termination; +when we have done any thing for the last time, we involuntarily reflect +that a part of the days allotted us is past, and that as more is past +there is less remaining. + +It is very happily and kindly provided, that in every life there are +certain pauses and interruptions, which force consideration upon the +careless, and seriousness upon the light; points of time where one +course of action ends, and another begins; and by vicissitudes of +fortune or alteration of employment, by change of place or loss of +friendship, we are forced to say of something, _this is the last_. + +An even and unvaried tenour of life always hides from our apprehension +the approach of its end. Succession is not perceived but by variation; +he that lives to-day as he lived yesterday, and expects that, as the +present day is, such will be the morrow, easily conceives time as +running in a circle and returning to itself. The uncertainty of our +duration is impressed commonly by dissimilitude of condition; it is only +by finding life changeable that we are reminded of its shortness. + +This conviction, however forcible at every new impression, is every +moment fading from the mind; and partly by the inevitable incursion of +new images, and partly by voluntary exclusion of unwelcome thoughts, we +are again exposed to the universal fallacy; and we must do another thing +for the last time, before we consider that the time is nigh when we +shall do no more. + +As the last Idler is published in that solemn week which the Christian +world has always set apart for the examination of the conscience, the +review of life, the extinction of earthly desires, and the renovation of +holy purposes; I hope that my readers are already disposed to view every +incident with seriousness, and improve it by meditation; and that, when +they see this series of trifles brought to a conclusion, they will +consider that, by out-living the Idler, they have passed weeks, months +and years, which are now no longer in their power; that an end must in +time be put to every thing great as to every thing little; that to life +must come its last hour, and to this system of being its last day, the +hour at which probation ceases, and repentance will be vain; the day in +which every work of the hand, and imagination of the heart shall be +brought to judgment, and an everlasting futurity shall be determined by +the past[1]. + +[1] This most solemn and impressive paper may be profitably compared + with the introduction of Bishop Heber's first Bampton-Lecture. + + + + +THE IDLER. No. 22[1] + +Many naturalists are of opinion, that the animals which we commonly +consider as mute, have the power of imparting their thoughts to one +another. That they can express general sensations is very certain; every +being that can utter sounds, has a different voice for pleasure and for +pain. The hound informs his fellows when he scents his game; the hen +calls her chickens to their food by her cluck, and drives them from +danger by her scream. + +Birds have the greatest variety of notes; they have, indeed, a variety, +which seems almost sufficient to make a speech adequate to the purposes +of a life which is regulated by instinct, and can admit little change or +improvement. To the cries of birds, curiosity or superstition has been +always attentive; many have studied the language of the feathered +tribes, and some have boasted that they understood it. + +The most skilful or most confident interpreters of the sylvan dialogues +have been commonly found among the philosophers of the east, in a +country where the calmness of the air, and the mildness of the seasons, +allow the student to pass a great part of the year in groves and bowers. +But what may be done in one place by peculiar opportunities, may be +performed in another by peculiar diligence. A shepherd of Bohemia has, +by long abode in the forests, enabled himself to understand the voice of +birds; at least he relates with great confidence a story, of which the +credibility is left to be considered by the learned. + +"As I was sitting" said he, "within a hollow rock, and watching my sheep +that fed in the valley, I heard two vultures interchangeably crying on +the summit of the cliff. Both voices were earnest and deliberate. My +curiosity prevailed over my care of the flock; I climbed slowly and +silently from crag to crag, concealed among the shrubs, till I found a +cavity where I might sit and listen without suffering or giving +disturbance." + +"I soon perceived, that my labour would be well repaid; for an old +vulture was sitting on a naked prominence, with her young about her, +whom she was instructing in the arts of a vulture's life, and preparing, +by the last lecture, for their final dismission to the mountains and the +skies." + +"My children," said the old vulture, "you will the less want my +instructions, because you have had my practice before your eyes; you +have seen me snatch from the farm the household fowl; you have seen me +seize the leveret in the bush, and the kid in the pasture; you know how +to fix your talons, and how to balance your flight when you are laden +with your prey. But you remember the taste of more delicious food; I +have often regaled you with the flesh of man." "Tell us," said the young +vultures, "where man may be found, and how he may be known; his flesh is +surely the natural food of a vulture. Why have you never brought a man +in your talons to the nest?" "He is too bulky," said the mother; "when +we find a man, we can only tear away his flesh, and leave his bones upon +the ground." "Since man is so big," said the young ones, "how do you +kill him? You are afraid of the wolf and of the bear, by what power are +vultures superior to man? is man more defenceless than a sheep?" "We +have not the strength of man," returned the mother, "and I am sometimes +in doubt whether we have the subtilty; and the vultures would seldom +feast upon his flesh, had not nature, that devoted him to our uses, +infused into him a strange ferocity, which I have never observed in any +other being that feeds upon the earth. Two herds of men will often meet +and shake the earth with noise, and fill the air with fire. When you +hear noise and see fire, with flashes along the ground, hasten to the +place with your swiftest wing, for men are surely destroying one +another; you will then find the ground smoking with blood, and covered +with carcasses, of which many are dismembered and mangled for the +convenience of the vulture." "But when men have killed their prey," said +the pupil, "why do they not eat it? When the wolf has killed a sheep, he +suffers not the vulture to touch it till he has satisfied himself. Is +not man another kind of wolf?" "Man," said the mother, "is the only +beast who kills that which he does not devour, and this quality makes +him so much a benefactor to our species." "If men kill our prey and lay +it in our way," said the young one, "what need shall we have of +labouring for ourselves?" "Because man will, sometimes," replied the +mother, "remain for a long time quiet in his den. The old vultures will +tell you when you are to watch his motions. When you see men in great +numbers moving close together, like a flock of storks, you may conclude +that they are hunting, and that you will soon revel in human blood." +"But still," said the young one, "I would gladly know the reason of this +mutual slaughter. I could never kill what I could not eat." "My child," +said the mother, "this is a question which I cannot answer, though I am +reckoned the most subtle bird of the mountain. When I was young, I used +frequently to visit the aerie of an old vulture, who dwelt upon the +Carpathian rocks; he had made many observations; he knew the places that +afforded prey round his habitation; as far in every direction as the +strongest wing can fly between the rising and setting of the summer sun; +he had fed year after year on the entrails of men. His opinion was, that +men had only the appearance of animal life, being really vegetables with +a power of motion; and that as the boughs of an oak are dashed together +by the storm, that swine may fatten upon the fallen acorns, so men are +by some unaccountable power driven one against another, till they lose +their motion, that vultures may be fed. Others think they have observed +something of contrivance and policy among these mischievous beings; and +those that hover more closely round them, pretend, that there is, in +every herd, one that gives directions to the rest, and seems to be more +eminently delighted with a wide carnage. What it is that entitles him to +such preeminence we know not; he is seldom the biggest or the swiftest, +but he shows by his eagerness and diligence that he is, more than any of +the others, a friend to the vultures." + +[1] This was the original No. 22, but on the republication of the work + in volumes, Dr. Johnson substituted what now stands under that head. + +END OF VOL. IV. + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Works of Samuel Johnson in Nine +Volumes, by Samuel Johnson + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WORKS OF SAMUEL JOHNSON, VOL. 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