Chapter 37

Either their Minds are wholly fixed on some particular Science, which is often the Case of Mathematicians and other learned Men; or are wholly taken up with some Violent Passion, such as Anger, Fear, or Love, which ties the Mind to some distant Object; or, lastly, these Distractions proceed from a certain Vivacity and Fickleness in a Man's Temper, which while it raises up infinite Numbers of _Ideas_ in the Mind, is continually pushing it on, without allowing it to rest on any particular Image. Nothing therefore is more unnatural than the Thoughts and Conceptions of such a Man, which are seldom occasioned either by the Company he is in, or any of those Objects which are placed before him. While you fancy he is admiring a beautiful Woman, 'tis an even Wager that he is solving a Proposition in _Euclid_; and while you may imagine he is reading the _Paris_ Gazette, it is far from being impossible, that he is pulling down and rebuilding the Front of his Country-house.

At the same time that I am endeavouring to expose this Weakness in others, I shall readily confess that I once laboured under the same Infirmity myself. The Method I took to conquer it was a firm Resolution to learn something from whatever I was obliged to see or hear. There is a way of Thinking if a Man can attain to it, by which he may strike somewhat out of any thing. I can at present observe those Starts of good Sense and Struggles of unimproved Reason in the Conversation of a Clown, with as much Satisfaction as the most shining Periods of the most finished Orator; and can make a shift to command my Attention at a _Puppet-Show_ or an _Opera_, as well as at _Hamlet_ or _Othello_. I always make one of the Company I am in; for though I say little myself, my Attention to others, and those Nods of Approbation which I never bestow unmerited, sufficiently shew that I am among them. Whereas WILL. HONEYCOMB, tho' a Fellow of good Sense, is every Day doing and saying an hundred Things which he afterwards confesses, with a well-bred Frankness, were somewhat _mal a propos_, and undesigned.

I chanced the other Day to go into a Coffee-house, where WILL, was standing in the midst of several Auditors whom he had gathered round him, and was giving them an Account of the Person and Character of _Moll Hinton_. My Appearance before him just put him in mind of me, without making him reflect that I was actually present. So that keeping his Eyes full upon me, to the great Surprize of his Audience, he broke off his first Harangue, and proceeded thus:

'Why now there's my Friend (mentioning me by my Name) he is a Fellow that thinks a great deal, but never opens his Mouth; I warrant you he is now thrusting his short Face into some Coffee-house about _'Change_. I was his Bail in the time of the _Popish-Plot_, when he was taken up for a Jesuit.'

If he had looked on me a little longer, he had certainly described me so particularly, without ever considering what led him into it, that the whole Company must necessarily have found me out; for which Reason, remembering the old Proverb, _Out of Sight out of Mind_, I left the Room; and upon meeting him an Hour afterwards, was asked by him, with a great deal of Good-humour, in what Part of the World I had lived, that he had not seen me these three Days.

Monsieur _Bruyere_ has given us the Character of _an absent_ Man [2], with a great deal of Humour, which he has pushed to an agreeable Extravagance; with the Heads of it I shall conclude my present Paper.

'_Menalcas_ (says that excellent Author) comes down in a Morning, opens his Door to go out, but shuts it again, because he perceives that he has his Night-cap on; and examining himself further finds that he is but half-shaved, that he has stuck his Sword on his right Side, that his Stockings are about his Heels, and that his Shirt is over his Breeches. When he is dressed he goes to Court, comes into the Drawing-room, and walking bolt-upright under a Branch of Candlesticks his Wig is caught up by one of them, and hangs dangling in the Air. All the Courtiers fall a laughing, but _Menalcas_ laughs louder than any of them, and looks about for the Person that is the Jest of the Company. Coming down to the Court-gate he finds a Coach, which taking for his own, he whips into it; and the Coachman drives off, not doubting but he carries his Master. As soon as he stops, _Menalcas_ throws himself out of the Coach, crosses the Court, ascends the Staircase, and runs thro' all the Chambers with the greatest Familiarity, reposes himself on a Couch, and fancies himself at home. The Master of the House at last comes in, _Menalcas_ rises to receive him, and desires him to sit down; he talks, muses, and then talks again. The Gentleman of the House is tired and amazed; _Menalcas_ is no less so, but is every Moment in Hopes that his impertinent Guest will at last end his tedious Visit. Night comes on, when _Menalcas_ is hardly undeceived.

When he is playing at Backgammon, he calls for a full Glass of Wine and Water; 'tis his turn to throw, he has the Box in one Hand and his Glass in the other, and being extremely dry, and unwilling to lose Time, he swallows down both the Dice, and at the same time throws his Wine into the Tables. He writes a Letter, and flings the Sand into the Ink-bottle; he writes a second, and mistakes the Superscription: A Nobleman receives one of them, and upon opening it reads as follows: _I would have you, honest Jack, immediately upon the Receipt of this, take in Hay enough to serve me the Winter._ His Farmer receives the other and is amazed to see in it, _My Lord, I received your Grace's Commands with an entire Submission to_--If he is at an Entertainment, you may see the Pieces of Bread continually multiplying round his Plate: 'Tis true the rest of the Company want it, as well as their Knives and Forks, which _Menalcas_ does not let them keep long. Sometimes in a Morning he puts his whole Family in an hurry, and at last goes out without being able to stay for his Coach or Dinner, and for that Day you may see him in every Part of the Town, except the very Place where he had appointed to be upon a Business of Importance. You would often take him for every thing that he is not; for a Fellow quite stupid, for he hears nothing; for a Fool, for he talks to himself, and has an hundred Grimaces and Motions with his Head, which are altogether involuntary; for a proud Man, for he looks full upon you, and takes no notice of your saluting him: The Truth on't is, his Eyes are open, but he makes no use of them, and neither sees you, nor any Man, nor any thing else: He came once from his Country-house, and his own Footman undertook to rob him, and succeeded: They held a Flambeau to his Throat, and bid him deliver his Purse; he did so, and coming home told his Friends he had been robbed; they desired to know the Particulars, _Ask my Servants, _says_ Menalcas, for they were with me_.

X.

[Footnote 1: Seneca 'de Tranquill. Anim.' cap. xv.

'Nullum magnum ingenium sine mixturâ dementiæ'

Dryden's lines are in Part I of 'Absalom and Achitophel'.]

[Footnote 2: 'Caractères', Chap. xi. de l'Homme. La Bruyère's Menalque was identified with a M. de Brancas, brother of the Duke de Villars. The adventure of the wig is said really to have happened to him at a reception by the Queen-Mother. He was said also on his wedding-day to have forgotten that he had been married. He went abroad as usual, and only remembered the ceremony of the morning upon finding the changed state of his household when, as usual, he came home in the evening.]

* * * * *

No. 78. Wednesday, May 30, 1711. Steele.

Cum Talis sis, Utinam noster esses!

The following Letters are so pleasant, that I doubt not but the Reader will be as much diverted with them as I was. I have nothing to do in this Day's Entertainment, but taking the Sentence from the End of the _Cambridge_ Letter, and placing it at the Front of my Paper; to shew the Author I wish him my Companion with as much Earnestness as he invites me to be his.

SIR,

'I Send you the inclosed, to be inserted (if you think them worthy of it) in your SPECTATORS; in which so surprizing a Genius appears, that it is no Wonder if all Mankind endeavours to get somewhat into a Paper which will always live.

As to the _Cambridge_ Affair, the Humour was really carried on in the Way I described it. However, you have a full Commission to put out or in, and to do whatever you think fit with it. I have already had the Satisfaction of seeing you take that Liberty with some things I have before sent you. [1]

'Go on, Sir, and prosper. You have the best Wishes of

_SIR, Your very Affectionate, and Obliged Humble Servant._'

_Cambridge_.

_Mr, SPECTATOR_,

'You well know it is of great Consequence to clear Titles, and it is of Importance that it be done in the proper Season; On which Account this is to assure you, that the CLUB OF UGLY FACES was instituted originally at _CAMBRIDGE_ in the merry Reign of King _Charles_ II. As in great Bodies of Men it is not difficult to find Members enough for such a Club, so (I remember) it was then feared, upon their Intention of dining together, that the Hall belonging to _CLAREHALL_, (the ugliest _then_ in the Town, tho' _now_ the neatest) would not be large enough HANDSOMELY to hold the Company. Invitations were made to great Numbers, but very few accepted them without much Difficulty. ONE pleaded that being at _London_ in a Bookseller's Shop, a Lady going by with a great Belly longed to kiss him. HE had certainly been excused, but that Evidence appeared, That indeed one in _London_ did pretend she longed to kiss him, but that it was only a _Pickpocket_, who during his kissing her stole away all his Money. ANOTHER would have got off by a Dimple in his Chin; but it was proved upon _him_, that he had, by coming into a Room, made a Woman miscarry, and frightened two Children into Fits. A THIRD alledged, That he was taken by a Lady for another Gentleman, who was one of the handsomest in the University; But upon Enquiry it was found that the Lady had actually lost one Eye, and the other was very much upon the Decline. A FOURTH produced Letters out of the Country in his Vindication, in which a Gentleman offered him his Daughter, who had lately fallen in Love with him, with a good Fortune: But it was made appear that the young Lady was amorous, and had like to have run away with her Father's Coachman, so that it was supposed, that her Pretence of falling in Love with him was only in order to be well married. It was pleasant to hear the several Excuses which were made, insomuch that some made as much Interest to be excused as they would from serving Sheriff; however at last the Society was formed, and proper Officers were appointed; and the Day was fix'd for the Entertainment, which was in _Venison Season_. A pleasant _Fellow of King's College_ (commonly called CRAB from his sour Look, and the only Man who did not pretend to get off) was nominated for Chaplain; and nothing was wanting but some one to sit in the Elbow-Chair, by way of PRESIDENT, at the upper end of the Table; and there the Business stuck, for there was no Contention for Superiority _there_. This Affair made so great a Noise, that the King, who was then at _Newmarket_, heard of it, and was pleased merrily and graciously to say, HE COULD NOT BE THERE HIMSELF, BUT HE WOULD SEND THEM A BRACE OF BUCKS.

I would desire you, Sir, to set this Affair in a true Light, that Posterity may not be misled in so important a Point: For when _the wise Man who shall write your true History_ shall acquaint the World, That you had a DIPLOMA sent from the _Ugly Club at OXFORD_, and that by vertue of it you were admitted into it, what a learned Work will there be among _future Criticks_ about the Original of that Club, which both Universities will contend so warmly for? And perhaps some hardy _Cantabrigian_ Author may then boldly affirm, that the Word _OXFORD_ was an interpolation of some _Oxonian_ instead of _CAMBRIDGE_. This Affair will be best adjusted in your Life-time; but I hope your Affection to your MOTHER will not make you partial to your AUNT.

To tell you, Sir, my own Opinion: Tho' I cannot find any ancient Records of any Acts of the SOCIETY OF THE UGLY FACES, considered in a _publick_ Capacity; yet in a _private_ one they have certainly Antiquity on their Side. I am perswaded they will hardly give Place to the LOWNGERS, and the LOWNGERS are of the same Standing with the University itself.

Tho' we well know, Sir, you want no Motives to do Justice, yet I am commission'd to tell you, that you are invited to be admitted _ad eundem_ at _CAMBRIDGE_; and I believe I may venture safely to deliver this as the Wish of our Whole University.'

_To Mr_. SPECTATOR.

_The humble Petition of WHO and WHICH_.

Sheweth,

'THAT your Petitioners being in a forlorn and destitute Condition, know not to whom we should apply ourselves for Relief, because there is hardly any Man alive who hath not injured us. Nay, we speak it with Sorrow, even You your self, whom we should suspect of such a Practice the last of all Mankind, can hardly acquit your self of having given us some Cause of Complaint. We are descended of ancient Families, and kept up our Dignity and Honour many Years, till the Jack-sprat THAT supplanted us. How often have we found ourselves slighted by the Clergy in their Pulpits, and the Lawyers at the Bar? Nay, how often have we heard in one of the most polite and august Assemblies in the Universe, to our great Mortification, these Words, _That THAT that noble Lord urged_; which if one of us had had Justice done, would have sounded nobler thus, _That WHICH that noble Lord urged_. Senates themselves, the Guardians of _British_ Liberty, have degraded us, and preferred THAT to us; and yet no Decree was ever given against us. In the very Acts of Parliament, in which the utmost Right should be done to every _Body_, _WORD_ and _Thing_, we find our selves often either not used, or used one instead of another. In the first and best Prayer Children are taught, they learn to misuse us: _Our_ _Father WHICH art in Heaven_, should be, _Our Father WHO_ _art in Heaven_; and even a CONVOCATION after long Debates, refused to consent to an Alteration of it. In our _general Confession_ we say,--_Spare thou them, O God, WHICH confess their Faults_, which ought to be, _WHO confess their Faults_. What Hopes then have we of having Justice done so, when the Makers of our very Prayers and Laws, and the most learned in all Faculties, seem to be in a Confederacy against us, and our Enemies themselves must be our Judges.'

The _Spanish_ Proverb says, _Il sabio muda consejo, il necio no_; i. e. _A wise Man changes his Mind, a Fool never will_. So that we think You, Sir, a very proper Person to address to, since we know you to be capable of being convinced, and changing your Judgment. You are well able to settle this Affair, and to you we submit our Cause. We desire you to assign the Butts and Bounds of each of us; and that for the future we may both enjoy our own. We would desire to be heard by our Counsel, but that we fear in their very Pleadings they would betray our Cause: Besides, we have been oppressed so many Years, that we can appear no other way, but _in forma pauperis_. All which considered, we hope you will be pleased to do that which to Right and Justice shall appertain.

_And your Petitioners, &c_.

R.

[Footnote 1: This letter is probably by Laurence Eusden, and the preceding letter by the same hand would be the account of the Loungers in No. 54. Laurence Eusden, son of Dr. Eusden, Rector of Spalsworth, in Yorkshire, was educated at Trinity College, Cambridge, took orders, and became Chaplain to Lord Willoughby de Broke. He obtained the patronage of Lord Halifax by a Latin version of his Lordship's poem on the Battle of the Boyne, in 1718. By the influence of the Duke of Newcastle, then Lord Chamberlain, he was made Poet-laureate, upon the death of Rowe. Eusden died, rector of Conington, Lincolnshire, in 1730, and his death was hastened by intemperance. Of the laurel left for Cibber Pope wrote in the Dunciad,

_Know, Eusden thirsts no more for sack or praise; He sleeps among the dull of ancient days._]

* * * * *

No. 79. Thursday, May 31, 1711. Steele.

'Oderunt peccare boni virtutis amore.'

Hor.

I have received very many Letters of late from my Female Correspondents, most of whom are very angry with me for Abridging their Pleasures, and looking severely upon Things, in themselves, indifferent. But I think they are extremely Unjust to me in this Imputation: All that I contend for is, that those Excellencies, which are to be regarded but in the second Place, should not precede more weighty Considerations. The Heart of Man deceives him in spite of the Lectures of half a Life spent in Discourses on the Subjection of Passion; and I do not know why one may not think the Heart of Woman as Unfaithful to itself. If we grant an Equality in the Faculties of both Sexes, the Minds of Women are less cultivated with Precepts, and consequently may, without Disrespect to them, be accounted more liable to Illusion in Cases wherein natural Inclination is out of the Interests of Virtue. I shall take up my present Time in commenting upon a Billet or two which came from Ladies, and from thence leave the Reader to judge whether I am in the right or not, in thinking it is possible Fine Women may be mistaken.

The following Address seems to have no other Design in it, but to tell me the Writer will do what she pleases for all me.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

'I am Young, and very much inclin'd to follow the Paths of Innocence: but at the same time, as I have a plentiful Fortune, and of Quality, I am unwilling to resign the Pleasures of Distinction, some little Satisfaction in being Admired in general, and much greater in being beloved by a Gentleman, whom I design to make my Husband. But I have a mind to put off entering into Matrimony till another Winter is over my Head, which, (whatever, musty Sir, you may think of the Matter) I design to pass away in hearing Music, going to Plays, Visiting, and all other Satisfactions which Fortune and Youth, protected by Innocence and Virtue, can procure for,'

SIR,

_Your most humble Servant_,

M. T.

'My Lover does not know I like him, therefore having no Engagements upon me, I think to stay and know whether I may not like any one else better.'

I have heard WILL. HONEYCOMB say,

_A Woman seldom writes her Mind but in her Postscript_.

I think this Gentlewoman has sufficiently discovered hers in this. I'll lay what Wager she pleases against her present Favourite, and can tell her that she will Like Ten more before she is fixed, and then will take the worst Man she ever liked in her Life. There is no end of Affection taken in at the Eyes only; and you may as well satisfie those Eyes with seeing, as controul any Passion received by them only. It is from loving by Sight that Coxcombs so frequently succeed with Women, and very often a Young Lady is bestowed by her Parents to a Man who weds her as Innocence itself, tho' she has, in her own Heart, given her Approbation of a different Man in every Assembly she was in the whole Year before. What is wanting among Women, as well as among Men, is the Love of laudable Things, and not to rest only in the Forbearance of such as are Reproachful.

How far removed from a Woman of this light Imagination is _Eudosia! Eudosia_ has all the Arts of Life and good Breeding with so much Ease, that the Virtue of her Conduct looks more like an Instinct than Choice. It is as little difficult to her to think justly of Persons and Things, as it is to a Woman of different Accomplishments, to move ill or look awkward. That which was, at first, the Effect of Instruction, is grown into an Habit; and it would be as hard for _Eudosia_ to indulge a wrong Suggestion of Thought, as it would be for _Flavia_ the fine Dancer to come into a Room with an unbecoming Air.

But the Misapprehensions People themselves have of their own State of Mind, is laid down with much discerning in the following Letter, which is but an Extract of a kind Epistle from my charming mistress _Hecatissa_, who is above the Vanity of external Beauty, and is the best Judge of the Perfections of the Mind.

_Mr_. SPECTATOR,

"I Write this to acquaint you, that very many Ladies, as well as myself, spend many Hours more than we used at the Glass, for want of the Female Library of which you promised us a Catalogue. I hope, Sir, in the Choice of Authors for us, you will have a particular Regard to Books of Devotion. What they are, and how many, must be your chief Care; for upon the Propriety of such Writings depends a great deal. I have known those among us who think, if they every Morning and Evening spend an Hour in their Closet, and read over so many Prayers in six or seven Books of Devotion, all equally nonsensical, with a sort of Warmth, (that might as well be raised by a Glass of Wine, or a Drachm of Citron) they may all the rest of their time go on in whatever their particular Passion leads them to. The beauteous _Philautia_, who is (in your Language) an _Idol_, is one of these Votaries; she has a very pretty furnished Closet, to which she retires at her appointed Hours: This is her Dressing-room, as well as Chapel; she has constantly before her a large Looking-glass, and upon the Table, according to a very witty Author,

_Together lye her Prayer-book and Paint, At once t' improve the Sinner and the Saint_.