Kitabı oku: «The Tatler (Vol 4)», sayfa 18

No. 246. [Steele.
From Thursday, Nov. 2, to Saturday, Nov. 4, 1710

 
-Vitiis nemo sine nascitur, optimus ille est
Qui minimis urgetur. —
 

Hor., 1 Sat. iii. 68.

From my own Apartment, Nov. 3

When one considers the turn which conversation takes in almost every set of acquaintance, club or assembly, in this town or kingdom, one cannot but observe, that in spite of what I am every day saying, and all the moral writers since the beginning of the world have said, the subject of discourse is generally upon one another's faults. This in a great measure proceeds from self-conceit, which were to be endured in one or other individual person; but the folly has spread itself almost over all the species; and one cannot only say, Tom, Jack, or Will, but in general, that man is a coxcomb. From this source it is that any excellence is faintly received, any imperfection unmercifully exposed. But if things were put in a true light, and we would take time to consider that man in his very nature is an imperfect being, our sense of this matter would be immediately altered, and the word "imperfection" would not carry an unkinder idea than the word "humanity." It is a pleasant story, that we, forsooth, who are the only imperfect creatures in the universe, are the only beings that will not allow of imperfection. Somebody has taken notice, that we stand in the middle of existences, and are by this one circumstance the most unhappy of all others. The brutes are guided by instinct, and know no sorrow; the angels have knowledge, and they are happy; but men are governed by opinion, which is I know not what mixture of instinct and knowledge, and are neither indolent nor happy. It is very observable, that critics are a people between the learned and the ignorant, and by that situation enjoy the tranquillity of neither. As critics stand among men, so do men in general between brutes and angels. Thus every man as he is a critic and a coxcomb, till improved by reason and speculation, is ever forgetting himself, and laying open the faults of others.

At the same time that I am talking of the cruelty of urging people's faults with severity, I cannot but bewail some which men are guilty of for want of admonition. These are such as they can easily mend, and nobody tells them of; for which reason I shall make use of the penny-post (as I have with success to several young ladies about turning their eyes, and holding up their heads) to certain gentlemen whom I remark habitually guilty of what they may reform in a moment. There is a fat fellow whom I have long remarked wearing his breast open in the midst of winter, out of an affectation of youth. I have therefore sent him just now the following letter in my physical capacity:

"Sir,

"From the twentieth instant to the first of May next, both days inclusive, I beg of you to button your waistcoat from your collar to your waistband. I am,

"Your most humble Servant,

"Isaac Bickerstaff, Philomath."¹⁷⁵

There is a very handsome well-shaped youth that frequents the coffee-houses about Charing Cross, and ties a very pretty ribbon with a cross of jewels at his breast.¹⁷⁶ This being something new, and a thing in which the gentleman may offend the Heralds' Office, I have addressed myself to him as I am censor:

"Dear Countryman,

"Was that ensign of honour which you wear, given you by a prince or a lady that you have served? If you bear it as an absent lover, please to hang it on a black ribbon; if as a rewarded soldier, you may have my licence to continue the red.

"Your faithful Servant,

"Bickerstaff, Censor."

These little intimations do great service, and are very useful, not only to the persons themselves, but to inform others how to conduct themselves towards them.

Instead of this honest private method, or a friendly one face to face, of acquainting people with things in their power to explain or amend, the usual way among people is to take no notice of things you can help, and nevertheless expose you for those you cannot.

Plumbeus and Levis are constantly in each other's company: they would, if they took proper methods, be very agreeable companions; but they so extravagantly aim at what they are unfit for, and each of them rallies the other so much in the wrong place, that instead of doing each other the offices of friends, they do but instruct the rest of the world to laugh at them with more knowledge and skill. Plumbeus is of a saturnine and sullen complexion; Levis, of a mercurial and airy disposition. Both these gentlemen have but very slow parts, but would make a very good figure, did they pursue what they ought. If Plumbeus would take to business, he would in a few years know the forms of orders so well, as to direct and dictate with so much ease, as to be thought a solid, able, and at the same time a sure man of despatch. Levis, with a little reading and coming more into company, would soon be able to write a song, or lead up a country-dance. Instead of these proper pursuits, in obedience to their respective geniuses, Plumbeus endeavours to be the man of pleasure, and Levis the man of business. This appears in their speech, and in their dress: Plumbeus is ever egregiously fine, and talking something like wit; Levis is ever extremely grave, and with a silly face repeating maxims. These two pardon each other for affecting what each is incapable of, the one to be wise, and the other gay; but are extremely critical in their judgments of each other in their way towards what they pretend to. Plumbeus acknowledges Levis a man of a great reach, because it is what Plumbeus never cared for being thought himself; and Levis allows Plumbeus to be an agreeable rake for the same reason. Now were these dear friends to be free with each other as they ought to be, they would change characters, and be both as commendable, instead of being as ridiculous, as their capacities will admit of.

Were it not too grave, all that I would urge on this subject is, that men are bewildered when they consider themselves in any other view than that of strangers, who are in a place where it is no great matter whether they can, or unreasonable to expect they should, have everything about them as well as at their own home. This way of thinking is, perhaps, the only one that can put this being into a proper posture for the ease of society. It is certain, this would reduce all faults into those which proceed from malice or dishonesty: it would quite change our manner of beholding one another, and nothing that was not below a man's nature would be below his character. The arts of this life would be proper advances towards the next; and a very good man would be a very fine gentleman. As it now is, human life is inverted, and we have not learned half the knowledge of this world before we are dropping into another. Thus, instead of the raptures and contemplations which naturally attend a well-spent life from the approach of eternity, even we old fellows are afraid of the ridicule of those who are born since us, and ashamed not to understand, as well as peevish to resign, the mode, the fashion, the ladies, the fiddles, the balls, and what not. Dick Reptile, who does not want humour, is very pleasant at our club when he sees an old fellow touchy at being laughed at for anything that is not in the mode, and bawls in his ear, "Prithee don't mind him; tell him thou art mortal."

No. 247. [Steele.
By Jenny Distaff, Half-Sister to Mr. Bickerstaff.
From Saturday, Nov. 4, to Tuesday, Nov. 7, 1710

 
Ædepol, næ nos sumus … æque omnes invisæ viris,
Propter paucas; quæ omnes faciunt dignæ ut videamur malo.
 

Ter., Hecyra, act ii. sc. 3.

From my own Apartment, Nov. 6

My brother, having written the above piece of Latin, desired me to take care of the rest of the ensuing paper. Towards this he bid me answer the following letter, and said, nothing I could write properly on the subject of it would be disagreeable to the motto. It is the cause of my sex, and I therefore enter upon it with great alacrity. The epistle is literally thus:

Edinburgh, Oct. 23.

"Mr. Bickerstaff,

"I presume to lay before you an affair of mine, and begs you'le be very sinceir in giving me your judgment and advice in this matter, which is as followes:

"A very agreeable young gentleman, who is endowed with all the good quallities that can make a man compleat, has this long time maid love to me in the most passionat manner that was posable. He has left nothing unsaid to make me belive his affections real; and in his letters expressed himself so hansomly, and so tenderly, that I had all the reason imaginable to belive him sinceir. In short, he positively has promised me he would marry me: but I find all he said nothing; for when the question was put to him, he wouldn't; but still would continue my humble servant, and would go on at the ould rate, repeating the assurences of his fidelity (and at the same time has none in him). He now writs to me in the same endearing style he ust to do, would have me spake to no man but himself. His estate is in his oune hand, his father being dead. My fortune at my oune disposal (mine being also dead), and to the full answers his estate. Pray, sir, be ingeinous, and tell me cordially, if you don't think I shall do myself an injurey if I keep company or a corospondance any longer with this gentleman. I hope you'le faver an honest North Briton (as I am) with your advice in this amoure; for I am resolved just to folow your directions. Sir, you'le do me a sensable pleasure, and very great honour, if you'le pleas to insirt this poor scrole, with your answer to it, in your Tatler. Pray fail not to give me your answer; for on it depends the happiness of

"Disconsolat Almeira."

"Madam,

"I have frequently read over your letter, and am of opinion, that as lamentable as it is, it is the most common of any evil that attends our sex. I am very much troubled for the tenderness you express towards your lover, but rejoice at the same time that you can so far surmount your inclination for him as to resolve to dismiss him when you have my brother's opinion for it. His sense of the matter he desired me to communicate to you. O Almeira! the common failing of our sex is to value the merit of our lovers rather from the grace of their address than the sincerity of their hearts. 'He has expressed himself so handsomely!' Can you say that after you have reason to doubt his truth? It is a very melancholy thing, that in this circumstance of love (which is the most important of all others in female life) we women, who are, they say, always weak, are still weakest. The true way of valuing a man, is to consider his reputation among the men: for want of this necessary rule towards our conduct, when it is too late we find ourselves married to the outcasts of that sex; and it is generally from being disagreeable among men, that fellows endeavour to make themselves pleasing to us. The little accomplishments of coming into a room with a good air, and telling while they are with us what we cannot hear among ourselves, usually make up the whole of a woman's man's merit. But if we, when we began to reflect upon our lovers, in the first place considered what figures they make in the camp, at the bar, on the 'Change, in their country, or at court, we should behold them in quite another view than at present.

"Were we to behave ourselves according to this rule, we should not have the just imputation of favouring the silliest of mortals, to the great scandal of the wisest, who value our favour as it advances their pleasure, not their reputation. In a word, madam, if you would judge aright in love, you must look upon it as in a case of friendship. Were this gentleman treating with you for anything but yourself, when you had consented to his offer, if he fell off, you would call him a cheat and an impostor. There is therefore nothing left for you to do, but to despise him and yourself for doing with regret.

"I am,

"Madam, &c."

I have heard it often argued in conversation, that this evil practice is owing to the perverted taste of the wits in the last generation. A libertine on the throne could very easily make the language and the fashion turn his own way. Hence it is, that woman is treated as a mistress, and not a wife. It is from the writings of those times, and the traditional accounts of the debauches of their men of pleasure, that the coxcombs nowadays take upon them, forsooth, to be false swains and perjured lovers. Methinks I feel all the woman rise in me, when I reflect upon the nauseous rogues that pretend to deceive us. Wretches, that can never have it in their power to overreach anything living but their mistresses! In the name of goodness, if we are designed by nature as suitable companions to the other sex, why are we not treated accordingly? If we have merit, as some allow, why is it not as base in men to injure us as one another? If we are the insignificants that others call us, where is the triumph in deceiving us? But when I look at the bottom of this disaster, and recollect the many of my acquaintance whom I have known in the same condition with the Northern lass that occasions this discourse, I must own I have ever found the perfidiousness of men has been generally owing to ourselves, and we have contributed to our own deceit. The truth is, we do not conduct ourselves as we are courted, but as we are inclined. When we let our imaginations take this unbridled swing, it is not he that acts best is most lovely, but he that is most lovely acts best. When our humble servants make their addresses, we do not keep ourselves enough disengaged to be judges of their merit; and we seldom give our judgment of our lover, till we have lost our judgment for him.

While Clarinda was passionately attended and addressed to by Strephon, who is a man of sense and knowledge in the world, and Cassio, who has a plentiful fortune and an excellent understanding, she fell in love with Damon at a ball: from that moment she that was before the most reasonable creature of all my acquaintance, cannot hear Strephon speak, but it is something "so out of the way of ladies' conversation;" and Cassio has never since opened his mouth before us, but she whispers me, "How seldom do riches and sense go together!" The issue of all this is, that for the love of Damon, who has neither experience, understanding, or wealth, she despises those advantages in the other two which she finds wanting in her lover; or else thinks he has them for no reason but because he is her lover. This and many other instances may be given in this town; but I hope thus much may suffice to prevent the growth of such evils at Edinburgh.

No. 248. [Steele.
By Isaac Bickerstaff, Esq.
From Tuesday, Nov. 7, to Thursday, Nov. 9, 1710

 
– Media sese tulit obvia silva,
Virginis os habitumque gerens —
 

Virg., Æn. i. 314.

From my own Apartment, Nov. 8

It may perhaps appear ridiculous; but I must confess, this last summer as I was riding in Enfield Chase, I met a young lady whom I could hardly get out of my head, and for aught I know my heart, ever since.¹⁷⁷ She was mounted on a pad, with a very well-fancied furniture. She sat her horse with a very graceful air; and when I saluted her with my hat, she bowed to me so obligingly, that whether it was her civility or beauty that touched me so much, I know not, but I am sure I shall never forget her. She dwells in my imagination in a figure so much to her advantage, that if I were to draw a picture of youth, health, beauty, or modesty, I should represent any or all of them in the person of that young woman.

I do not find that there are any descriptions in the ancient poets so beautiful as those they draw of nymphs in their pastoral dresses and exercises. Virgil gives Venus the habit of a Spartan huntress when she is to put Æneas in his way, and relieve his cares with the most agreeable object imaginable.¹⁷⁸ Diana and her train are always described as inhabitants of the woods, and followers of the chase. To be well diverted, is the safest guard to innocence; and, methinks, it should be one of the first things to be regarded among people of condition to find out proper amusements for young ladies. I cannot but think this of riding might easily be revived among them, when they consider how much it must contribute to their beauty. This would lay up the best portion they could bring into a family, a good stock of health to transmit to their posterity. Such a charming bloom as this gives the countenance, is very much preferable to the real or affected feebleness or softness which appear in the faces of our modern beauties.

The comedy called "The Ladies' Cure,"¹⁷⁹ represents the affectation of wan looks and languid glances to a very entertaining extravagance. There is, as the lady in the play complains, something so robust in perfect health, that it is with her a point of breeding and delicacy to appear in public with a sickly air. But the natural gaiety and spirit which shine in the complexion of such as form to themselves a sort of diverting industry by choosing recreations that are exercises, surpass all the false ornaments and graces that can be put on by applying the whole dispensary of a toilet. A healthy body and a cheerful mind give charms as irresistible as inimitable. The beauteous Dyctinna, who came to town last week, has, from the constant prospect in a delicious country, and the moderate exercise and journeys in the visits she made round it, contracted a certain life in her countenance which will in vain employ both the painters and poets to represent. The becoming negligence in her dress, the severe sweetness of her looks, and a certain innocent boldness in all her behaviour, are the effect of the active recreations I am talking of.

But instead of such or any other as innocent and pleasing method of passing away their time with alacrity, we have many in town who spend their hours in an indolent state of body and mind, without either recreations or reflections. I am apt to believe, there are some parents imagine their daughters will be accomplished enough, if nothing interrupts their growth or their shape. According to this method of education, I could name you twenty families, where all the girls hear of in this life is, that it is time to rise and to come to dinner; as if they were so insignificant as to be wholly provided for when they are fed and clothed.

It is with great indignation that I see such crowds of the female world lost to human society, and condemned to a laziness which makes life pass away with less relish than in the hardest labour. Palestris, in her drawing-room, is supported by spirits to keep off the returns of spleen and melancholy, before she can get over half the day for want of something to do, while the wench in the kitchen sings and scours from morning to night.

The next disagreeable thing to a lazy lady is a very busy one. A man of business in good company, who gives an account of his abilities and despatches, is hardly more insupportable than her they call a notable woman and a manager. Lady Goodday, where I visited the other day at a very polite circle, entertained a great lady with a recipe for a poultice, and gave us to understand, that she had done extraordinary cures since she was last in town. It seems a countryman had wounded himself with his scythe as he was mowing; and we were obliged to hear of her charity, her medicine, and her humility, in the harshest tone and coarsest language imaginable.

What I would request in all this prattle is, that our females would either let us have their persons or their minds in such perfection as nature designed them.

The way to this is, that those who are in the quality of gentlewomen should propose to themselves some suitable method of passing away their time. This would furnish them with reflections and sentiments proper for the companions of reasonable men, and prevent the unnatural marriages which happen every day between the most accomplished women and the veriest oafs, the worthiest men and the most insignificant females. Were the general turn of women's education of another kind than it is at present, we should want one another for more reasons than we do as the world now goes. The common design of parents is to get their girls off as well as they can, and make no conscience of putting into our hands a bargain for our whole life which will make our hearts ache every day of it.

I shall therefore take this matter into serious consideration, and will propose, for the better improvement of the fair sex, a female library.¹⁸⁰ This collection of books shall consist of such authors as do not corrupt while they divert, but shall tend more immediately to improve them, as they are women. They shall be such as shall not hurt a feature by the austerity of their reflections, nor cause one impertinent glance by the wantonness of them. They shall all tend to advance the value of their innocence as virgins, improve their understanding as wives, and regulate their tenderness as parents. It has been very often said in these Lucubrations, that the ideas which most frequently pass through our imaginations, leave traces of themselves in our countenances. There shall be a strict regard had to this in my female library, which shall be furnished with nothing that shall give supplies to ostentation or impertinence; but the whole shall be so digested for the use of my students, that they shall not go out of character in their inquiries, but their knowledge appear only a cultivated innocence.