Chapter 10
Several letters which I have lately received give me information, that some well-disposed persons have taken offence at my using the word "freethinker" as a term of reproach. To set therefore this matter in a clear light, I must declare, that no one can have a greater veneration than myself for the freethinkers of antiquity, who acted the same part in those times, as the great men of the Reformation did in several nations of Europe, by exerting themselves against the idolatry and superstition of the times in which they lived. It was by this noble impulse that Socrates and his disciples, as well as all the philosophers of note in Greece, and Cicero, Seneca, with all the learned men of Rome, endeavoured to enlighten their contemporaries amidst the darkness and ignorance in which the world was then sunk and buried. The great points which these freethinkers endeavoured to establish and inculcate into the minds of men, were, the formation of the universe, the superintendency of Providence, the perfection of the divine nature, the immortality of the soul, and the future state of rewards and punishments. They all complied with the religion of their country, as much as possible, in such particulars as did not contradict and pervert these great and fundamental doctrines of mankind. On the contrary, the persons who now set up for freethinkers, are such as endeavour by a little trash of words and sophistry, to weaken and destroy those very principles, for the vindication of which, freedom of thought at first became laudable and heroic.[104] These apostates, from reason and good sense, can look at the glorious frame of Nature, without paying an adoration to Him that raised it; can consider the great revolutions in the universe, without lifting up their minds to that Superior Power which hath the direction of it; can presume to censure the Deity in His ways towards men; can level mankind with the beasts that perish; can extinguish in their own minds all the pleasing hopes of a future state, and lull themselves into a stupid security against the terrors of it. If one were to take the word "priestcraft" out of the mouths of these shallow monsters, they would be immediately struck dumb. It is by the help of this single term that they endeavour to disappoint the good works of the most learned and venerable order of men, and harden the hearts of the ignorant against the very light of Nature, and the common received notions of mankind. We ought not to treat such miscreants as these upon the foot of fair disputants, but to pour out contempt upon them, and speak of them with scorn and infamy, as the pests of society, the revilers of human nature, and the blasphemers of a Being, whom a good man would rather die than hear dishonoured. Cicero, after having mentioned the great heroes of knowledge that recommended this divine doctrine of the immortality of the soul, calls those small pretenders to wisdom who declared against it, certain minute philosophers,[105] using a diminutive even of the word "little," to express the despicable opinion he had of them. The contempt he throws upon them in another passage[106] is yet more remarkable, where, to show the mean thoughts he entertains of them, he declares, he would rather be in the wrong with Plato, than in the right with such company. There is indeed nothing in the world so ridiculous as one of these grave philosophical freethinkers, that hath neither passions nor appetites to gratify, no heats of blood nor vigour of constitution that can turn his systems of infidelity to his advantage, or raise pleasures out of them which are inconsistent with the belief of a hereafter. One that has neither wit, gallantry, mirth, nor youth, to indulge by these notions, but only a poor, joyless, uncomfortable vanity of distinguishing himself from the rest of mankind, is rather to be regarded as a mischievous lunatic, than a mistaken philosopher. A chaste infidel, a speculative libertine, is an animal that I should not believe to be in Nature, did I not sometimes meet with this species of men, that plead for the indulgence of their passions in the midst of a severe studious life, and talk against the immortality of the soul over a dish of coffee.
I would fain ask a minute philosopher, what good he proposes to mankind by the publishing of his doctrines? Will they make a man a better citizen, or father of a family; a more endearing husband, friend, or son? Will they enlarge his public or private virtues, or correct any of his frailties or vices? What is there either joyful or glorious in such opinions? Do they either refresh or enlarge our thoughts? Do they contribute to the happiness, or raise the dignity of human nature? The only good that I have ever heard pretended to, is, that they banish terrors, and set the mind at ease. But whose terrors do they banish? It is certain, if there were any strength in their arguments, they would give great disturbance to minds that are influenced by virtue, honour, and morality, and take from us the only comforts and supports of affliction, sickness, and old age. The minds therefore which they set at ease, are only those of impenitent criminals and malefactors, and which, to the good of mankind, should be in perpetual terror and alarm.
I must confess, nothing is more usual than for a freethinker, in proportion as the insolence of scepticism is abated in him by years and knowledge, or humbled and beaten down by sorrow or sickness, to reconcile himself to the general conceptions of reasonable creatures; so that we frequently see the apostates turning from their revolt toward the end of their lives, and employing the refuse of their parts in promoting those truths which they had before endeavoured to invalidate.
The history of a gentleman in France is very well known, who was so zealous a promoter of infidelity, that he had got together a select company of disciples, and travelled into all parts of the kingdom to make converts. In the midst of his fantastical success he fell sick, and was reclaimed to such a sense of his condition, that after he had passed some time in great agonies and horrors of mind, he begged those who had the care of burying him, to dress his body in the habit of a Capuchin, that the devil might not run away with it; and to do further justice upon himself, desired them to tie a halter about his neck, as a mark of that ignominious punishment, which in his own thoughts he had so justly deserved.
I would not have persecution so far disgraced, as to wish these vermin might be animadverted on by any legal penalties; though I think it would be highly reasonable, that those few of them who die in the professions of their infidelity, should have such tokens of infamy fixed upon them, as might distinguish those bodies which are given up by the owners to oblivion and putrefaction, from those which rest in hope, and shall rise in glory. But at the same time that I am against doing them the honour of the notice of our laws, which ought not to suppose there are such criminals in being, I have often wondered how they can be tolerated in any mixed conversations while they are venting these absurd opinions; and should think, that if on any such occasion half a dozen of the most robust Christians in the company would lead one of these gentlemen to a pump, or convey him into a blanket, they would do very good service both to Church and State. I do not know how the laws stand in this particular; but I hope, whatever knocks, bangs or thumps might be given with such an honest intention, would not be construed as a breach of the peace. I daresay they would not be returned by the person who receives them; for whatever these fools may say in the vanity of their hearts, they are too wise to risk their lives upon the uncertainty of their opinions.
When I was a young man about this town, I frequented the ordinary of the Black Horse, in Holborn, where the person that usually presided at the table was a rough old-fashioned gentleman, who, according to the custom of those times, had been the major and preacher of a regiment. It happened one day that a noisy young officer, bred in France, was venting some new-fangled notions, and speaking, in the gaiety of his humour, against the dispensations of Providence. The major at first only desired him to talk more respectfully of one for whom all the company had an honour; but finding him run on in his extravagance, began to reprimand him after a more serious manner. "Young man," said he, "do not abuse your Benefactor whilst you are eating His bread. Consider whose air you breathe, whose presence you are in, and who it is that gave you the power of that very speech which you make use of to His dishonour." The young fellow, who thought to turn matters into a jest, asked him if he was going to preach; but at the same time desired him to take care what he said when he spoke to a man of honour. "A man of honour?" says the major, "thou art an infidel and a blasphemer, and I shall use thee as such." In short, the quarrel ran so high, that the major was desired to walk out. Upon their coming into the garden, the old fellow advised his antagonist to consider the place into which one pass might drive him; but finding him grow upon him to a degree of scurrility, as believing the advice proceeded from fear; "Sirrah," says he, "if a thunderbolt does not strike thee dead before I come at thee, I shall not fail to chastise thee for thy profaneness to thy Maker, and thy sauciness to His servant." Upon this he drew his sword, and cried out with a loud voice, "The sword of the Lord and of Gideon"; which so terrified his antagonist, that he was immediately disarmed, and thrown upon his knees. In this posture he begged his life; but the major refused to grant it, before he had asked pardon for his offence in a short extemporary prayer which the old gentleman dictated to him upon the spot, and which his proselyte repeated after him in the presence of the whole ordinary, that were now gathered about him in the garden.
[Footnote 104: In speaking of Collins' "Discourse of Free-Thinking" (1713) in the _Guardian_ (No. 9), Steele says: "I cannot see any possible interpretation to give this work, but a design to subvert and ridicule the authority of scripture. The peace and tranquillity of the nation, and regards even above those, are so much concerned in this matter, that it is difficult to express sufficient sorrow for the offender, or indignation against him."]
[Footnote 105: See the motto at the head of this paper.]
[Footnote 106: "Tusc. Disp." i. 17. Cicero calls those who differ from Plato and Socrates "plebii omnes philosophi" (_ib._ i. 23).]
No. 136. [STEELE.[107]
From _Saturday, Feb. 18_, to _Tuesday, Feb. 21, 1709-10_.
Deprendi miserum est; Fabio vel judice vincam. HOR., 1 Sat. ii. 134.
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_White's Chocolate-house, February 18._
_The History of Tom Varnish._
Because I have a professed aversion to long beginnings of stories, I will go into this at once, by telling you, that there dwells near the Royal Exchange as happy a couple as ever entered into wedlock. These live in that mutual confidence of each other, which renders the satisfactions of marriage even greater than those of friendship, and makes wife and husband the dearest appellations of human life. Mr. Ballance is a merchant of good consideration, and understands the world not from speculation, but practice. His wife is the daughter of an honest house, ever bred in a family-way; and has, from a natural good understanding, and great innocence, a freedom which men of sense know to be the certain sign of virtue, and fools take to be an encouragement to vice.
Tom Varnish, a young gentleman of the Middle Temple, by the bounty of a good father who was so obliging as to die, and leave him in his twenty-fourth year, besides a good estate, a large sum, which lay in the hands of Mr. Ballance, had by this means an intimacy at his house; and being one of those hard students who read plays for improvement in the law, took his rules of life from thence. Upon mature deliberation, he conceived it very proper, that he, as a man of wit and pleasure of the town, should have an intrigue with his merchant's wife. He no sooner thought of this adventure, but he began it by an amorous epistle to the lady, and a faithful promise to wait upon her, at a certain hour the next evening, when he knew her husband was to be absent.
The letter was no sooner received, but it was communicated to the husband, and produced no other effect in him, than that he joined with his wife to raise all the mirth they could out of this fantastical piece of gallantry. They were so little concerned at this dangerous man of mode, that they plotted ways to perplex him without hurting him. Varnish comes exactly at his hour; and the lady's well-acted confusion at his entrance, gave him opportunity to repeat some couplets very fit for the occasion with very much grace and spirit. His theatrical manner of making love was interrupted by an alarm of the husband's coming; and the wife, in a personated terror, beseeched him, if he had any value for the honour of a woman that loved him, he would jump out of the window. He did so, and fell upon feather-beds placed on purpose to receive him.
It is not to be conceived how great the joy of an amorous man is when he has suffered for his mistress, and is never the worse for it. Varnish the next day writ a most elegant billet, wherein he said all that imagination could form upon the occasion. He violently protested, going out of the window was no way terrible, but as it was going from her; with several other kind expressions, which procured him a second assignation. Upon his second visit, he was conveyed by a faithful maid into her bedchamber, and left there to expect the arrival of her mistress. But the wench, according to her instructions, ran in again to him, and locked the door after her to keep out her master. She had just time enough to convey the lover into a chest before she admitted the husband and his wife into the room.
You may be sure that trunk was absolutely necessary to be opened; but upon her husband's ordering it, she assured him, she had taken all the care imaginable in packing up the things with her own hand, and he might send the trunk aboard as soon as he thought fit. The easy husband believed his wife, and the good couple went to bed; Varnish having the happiness to pass the night in his mistress's bedchamber without molestation. The morning arose, but our lover was not well situated to observe her blushes; so that all we know of his sentiments on this occasion, is, that he heard Ballance ask for the key, and say, he would himself go with this chest, and have it opened before the captain of the ship, for the greater safety of so valuable a lading.
The goods were hoisted away, and Mr. Ballance marching by his chest with great care and diligence, omitted nothing that might give his passenger perplexity. But to consummate all, he delivered the chest, with strict charge, in case they were in danger of being taken, to throw it overboard, for there were letters in it, the matter of which might be of great service to the enemy.
N.B. It is not thought advisable to proceed further in this account, Mr. Varnish being just returned from his travels, and willing to conceal the occasion of his first applying himself to the languages.
_St. James's Coffee-house, February 20._
This day came in a mail from Holland, with a confirmation of our late advices, that a treaty of peace would very suddenly be set on foot, and that yachts were appointed by the States to convey the Ministers of France from Moerdyk to Gertruydenburg, which is appointed for the place wherein this important negotiation is to be transacted. It is said, this affair has been in agitation ever since the close of the last campaign; Monsieur Petticum having been appointed to receive from time to time the overtures of the enemy. During the whole winter, the Ministers of France have used their utmost skill in forming such answers as might amuse the Allies, in hopes of a favourable event; either in the north, or some other part of Europe, which might affect some part of the alliance too nearly to leave it in a capacity of adhering firmly to the interest of the whole. In all this transaction, the French king's own name has been as little made use of as possible: but the season of the year advancing too fast to admit of much longer delays in the present condition of France, Monsieur Torcy, in the name of the king, sent a letter to Monsieur Petticum, wherein he says, that "the king is willing all the preliminary articles shall rest as they are during the treaty for the 37th."
Upon the receipt of this advice, passports were sent to the French Court, and their Ministers are expected at Moerdyk on the 5th of the next month.
_Sheer Lane, February 20._
I have been earnestly solicited for a further term, for wearing the farthingale by several of the fair sex, but more especially by the following petitioners:
"The humble petition of Deborah Hark, Sarah Threadpaper and Rachael Thimble, spinsters, and single women, commonly called Waiting-maids, in behalf of themselves and their sisterhood;
"SHEWETH,
"That your Worship hath been pleased to order and command, that no person or persons shall presume to wear quilted petticoats, on forfeiture of the said petticoats, or penalty of wearing ruffs, after the 17th instant now expired.
"That your petitioners have time out of mind been entitled to wear their ladies' clothes, or to sell the same.
"That the sale of the said clothes is spoiled by your Worship's said prohibition.
"Your petitioners therefore most humbly pray, that your Worship would please to allow, that all gentlewomen's gentlewomen may be allowed to wear the said dress, or to repair the loss of such a perquisite in such manner as your Worship shall think fit.
"And your petitioners," &c.
I do allow the allegations of this petition to be just, and forbid all persons but the petitioners, or those who shall purchase from them, to wear the said garment after the date hereof.
[Footnote 107: Nichols suggests that this paper may be by Addison, and it is certainly not unlikely that he was the author of the "History of Tom Varnish."]
No. 137. [STEELE.
From _Tuesday, Feb. 21_, to _Thursday, Feb. 23, 1709-10_.
Ter centum tonat ore deos, Erebumque, Chaosque, Tergeminamque Hecaten.--VIRG., Æn. iv. 510.
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_Sheer Lane, February 22._
Dick Reptile and I sat this evening later than the rest of the club; and as some men are better company when only with one friend, others when there is a large number, I found Dick to be of the former kind. He was bewailing to me in very just terms, the offences which he frequently met with in the abuse of speech: some use ten times more words than they need, some put in words quite foreign to their purpose, and others adorn their discourses with oaths and blasphemies by way of tropes and figures. What my good friend started, dwelt upon me after I came home this evening, and led me into an inquiry with myself, whence should arise such strange excrescences in discourse? Whereas it must be obvious to all reasonable beings, that the sooner a man speaks his mind, the more complaisant he is to the man with whom he talks: but upon mature deliberation, I am come to this resolution, that for one man who speaks to be understood, there are ten who talk only to be admired.
The ancient Greeks had little independent syllables called "expletives," which they brought into their discourses both in verse and prose, for no other purpose but for the better grace and sound of their sentences and periods. I know no example but this which can authorise the use of more words than are necessary. But whether it be from this freedom taken by that wise nation, or however it arises, Dick Reptile hit upon a very just and common cause of offence in the generality of the people of all orders. We have one here in our lane who speaks nothing without quoting an authority; for it is always with him, so and so, "as the man said." He asked me this morning, how I did, "as the man said"; and hoped I would come now and then to see him, "as the man said." I am acquainted with another, who never delivers himself upon any subject, but he cries, he only speaks his "poor judgment"; this is his humble opinion; or as for his part, if he might presume to offer anything on that subject. But of all the persons who add elegances and superfluities to their discourses, those who deserve the foremost rank, are the swearers; and the lump of these may, I think, be very aptly divided into the common distinction of high and low. Dulness and barrenness of thought is the original of it in both these sects, and they differ only in constitution: the low is generally a phlegmatic, and the high a choleric coxcomb. The man of phlegm is sensible of the emptiness of his discourse, and will tell you, that "I'fackins," such a thing is true: or if you warm him a little, he may run into passion, and cry, "Odsbodikins," you do not say right. But the high affects a sublimity in dulness, and invokes hell and damnation at the breaking of a glass, or the slowness of a drawer.
I was the other day trudging along Fleet Street on foot, and an old army friend came up with me. We were both going towards Westminster, and finding the streets were so crowded that we could not keep together, we resolved to club for a coach. This gentleman I knew to be the first of the order of the choleric. I must confess (were there no crime in it), nothing could be more diverting than the impertinence of the high juror: for whether there is remedy or not against what offends him, still he is to show he is offended; and he must sure not omit to be magnificently passionate, by falling on all things in his way. We were stopped by a train of coaches at Temple Bar. "What the devil!" says my companion, "cannot you drive on, coachman? D----n you all, for a set of sons of whores, you will stop here to be paid by the hour! There is not such a set of confounded dogs as the coachmen unhanged! But these rascally Cits---- 'Ounds, why should not there be a tax to make these dogs widen their gates? Oh! but the hell-hounds move at last." "Ay," said I, "I knew you would make them whip on if once they heard you." "No," says he; "but would it not fret a man to the devil, to pay for being carried slower than he can walk? Lookee, there is for ever a stop at this hole by St. Clement's Church. Blood, you dog!--Harkee, sirrah,--why, and be d----d to you, do not you drive over that fellow? Thunder, furies, and damnation! I'll cut your ears off, you fellow before there. Come hither, you dog you, and let me wring your neck round your shoulders." We had a repetition of the same eloquence at the Cockpit,[108] and the turning into Palace Yard.
This gave me a perfect image of the insignificancy of the creatures who practise this enormity; and made me conclude, that it is ever want of sense makes a man guilty in this kind. It was excellently well said, that this folly had no temptation to excuse it, no man being born of a swearing constitution. In a word, a few rumbling words and consonants clapped together, without any sense, will make an accomplished swearer: and it is needless to dwell long upon this blustering impertinence, which is already banished out of the society of well-bred men, and can be useful only to bullies and ill tragic writers, who would have sound and noise pass for courage and sense.
_St. James's Coffee-house, February 22._