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to that pa
uld get here she coulte in I sat ler
ep towark I was al de ought to i "my der never be tim is followed
ice; and tre
e an ans
ell me I ww more e
sense of me
Life of a and I have
in her p met.es Le air. Cerere
is read out, I shall, without more ado, call for the There is something very devout, though not
'Your most obedient, humble servant,
'P. S. I hope I need not tell you that I desire themselves indifferent, a part of our religion, that this may be in your very next.'
No 213. SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 8, 1711.
Mens sibi conscia recti.
A good intention.
VIRG. Æn. i. ver. 608.
Ir is the great art and secret of Christianity, if Symay use that phrase, to manage our actions to the best advantage, and direct them in such a manner, that every thing we do may turn to account at that great day, when every thing we have done will be set before us.
we may have more occasions of showing our love to God, and in all the circumstances of life be doing something to please him.'
Monsieur St. Evremond has endeavoured to palliate the superstitions of the Roman Catholic religion with the same kind of apology, where he pretends to consider the different spirits of the Papists and the Calvinists, as to the great points wherein they disagree. He tells us, that the former are actuated by love, and the other by fear; and that in their expressions of duty and devotion towards the Supreme Being, the former seem particularly careful to do every thing which may possibly please him, and the other to abstain from every thing which may possibly displease him.
But notwithstanding this plausible reason with In order to give this consideration its full weight, which both the Jew and the Roman Catholic would we may cast all our actions under the division of excuse their respective superstitions, it is certain such as are themselves either good, evil, or indiffe- there is something in them very pernicious to manrent. If we divide our intentions after the same kind, and destructive to religion; because the inmanner, and consider them with regard to our ac-junction of superfluous ceremonies makes such actions, we may discover that great art and secret of tions duties, as were before indifferent, and by religion which I have here mentioned. that means renders religion more burdensome and difficult than it is in its own nature, betrays many into sins of omission which they could not otherwise be guilty of, and fixes the minds of the vulgar to the shadowy, unessential points, instead of the more weighty and more important matters of the law.
A good intention joined to a good action, gives it its proper force and efficacy; joined to an evil action extenuates its malignity, and in some cases may take it wholly away; and joined to an indifferent action, turns it to a virtue, and makes it meritorious as far as human actions can be so. In the next place, to consider in the same manThis zealous and active obedience, however, ner the influence of an evil intention upon our ac- takes place in the great point we are recommendtions. An evil intention perverts the best of ac-ing; for, if, instead of prescribing to ourselves intions, and makes them in reality, what the fathers different actions as duties, we apply a good intenwith a witty kind of zeal have termed the virtues tion to all our most indifferent actions, we make of the heathen world, so many shining sins. It de-our very existence one continued act of obedience, stroys the innocence of an indifferent action, and we turn our diversions and amusements to our etergives an evil action all possible blackness and hor-nal advantage, and are pleasing Him (whom we For, or, in the emphatical language of sacred writ, are made to please) in all the circumstances and makes sin exceeding sinful.'† occurrences of life.
If, in the last place, we consider the nature of It is this excellent frame of mind, this holy of an indifferent intention, we shall find that it de- ficiousness (if I may be allowed to call it such), stroys the merit of a good action; abates, but which is recommended to us by the apostle in that never takes away, the malignity of an evil ac- uncommon precept wherein he directs us to pro. tion; and leaves an indifferent action in its natural pose to ourselves the glory of our Creator in all state of indifference. our most indifferent actions, whether we cat or drink, or whatsoever we do."
It is therefore of unspeakable advantage to possess our minds with an habitual good intention, A person therefore who is possessed with such an and to aim all our thoughts, words, and actions at habitual good intention as that which I have been some laudable end, whether it be the glory of our here speaking of, enters upon no single circumMaker, the good of mankind, or the benefit of stance of life, without considering it as well-pleasour own souls. ing to the great Author of his being, conformable This is a sort of thrift or good husbandry in to the dictates of reason, suitable to human nature moral life, which does not throw away any single in general, or to that particular station in which action, but makes every one go as far as it can. Providence has placed him. He lives in a perpeIt multiplies the means of salvation, increases the tual sense of the Divine Presence, regards himself number of our virtues, and diminishes that of our as acting, in the whole course of his existence, under the observation and inspection of that Being, who is privy to all his motions and all his
•The subject is resumed in No. 216.
+ Rom. vii. 13.
* 1 Cor. x. 31.
thoughts, who knows his 'down-sitting and his up- ought, according to the accustomed maxim, to be rising, who is about his path, and about his bed, first discharged.
and spieth out all his ways. In a word, he re- When I speak of dependants, I would not be members that the eye of his judge is always upon understood to mean those who are worthless in him, and in every action he reflects that he is doing themselves, or who, without any call, will press what is commanded or allowed by Him who will into the company of their betters. Nor, when I hereafter either reward or punish it. This was the speak of patrons, do I mean those who either have character of those holy men of old, who in that it not in their power, or have no obligations to asbeautiful phrase of scripture are said to have sist their friends; but I speak of such leagues walked with God.t where there is power and obligation on the one When I employ myself upon a paper of mo- part, and merit and expectation on the other. rality, I generally consider how I may recommend The division of patron and client, may, I be the particular virtue which I treat of, by the pre-lieve, include a third of our nation; the want of cepts or examples of the ancient heathens; by merit, and real worth in the client, will strike that means, if possible, to shame those who have out about ninety-nine in a hundred of these; and greater advantages of knowing their duty, and the want of ability in patrons, as many of that therefore greater obligations to perform it, into a kind. But, however, I must beg leave to say, that better course of life: besides that many among us he who will take up another's time and fortune in are unreasonably disposed to give a fairer hearing his service, though he has no prospect of reward. to a pagan philosopher, than to a christian writer. ing his merit towards him, is as unjust in his deal. I shall therefore produce an instance of this ex-ings as he who takes up goods of a tradesman withcellent frame of mind in a speech of Socrates, out intention or ability to pay him. Of the few which is quoted by Erasmus. This great philoso- of the class which I think fit to consider, there are pher on the day of his execution, a little before not two in ten who succeed, insomuch that I know the draught of poison was brought to him, enter- a man of good sense who put his son to a blacktaining his friends with a discourse on the immor-smith, though an offer was made him of his being tality of the soul, has these words: 'Whether or received as a page to a man of quality. There no God will approve of my actions, I know not; are not more cripples come out of the wars than but this I am sure of, that I have at all times made there are from those great services; some through it my endeavour to please him, and I have a good discontent lose their speech, some their memories, hope that this my endeavour will be accepted by others their senses, or their lives; and I seldom see him.' We find in these words of that great man a man thoroughly discontented, but I conclude he the habitual good intention which I would here has had the favour of some great man. I have inculcate, and with which that divine philosopher known of such as have been for twenty years to always acted. I shall only add, that Erasmus, gether within a month of a good employment, but who was an unbigotted Roman Catholic, was so never arrived at the happiness of being possessed much transported with this passage of Socrates, of any thing.
N° 214. MONDAY, NOVEMBER 5, 1711.
-Perierunt tempora longi
JUV. Sat. iii. ver. 124.
that he could scarce forbear looking upon him as a There is nothing more ordinary than that a man saint, and desiring him to pray for him; or as that who has got into a considerable station shall im ingenious and learned writer has expressed him- mediately alter his manner of treating all his self in a much more lively manner: When I re- friends, and from that moment he is to deal with flect on such a speech pronounced by such a per- you as if he were your Fate. You are no longer son, I can scarce forbear crying out, "Sancte So-to be consulted, even in matters which concern crates, ora pro nobis:" O holy Socrates, pray for yourself; but your patron is of a species above you, and a free communication with you is not to be expected. This perhaps may be your condition all the while he bears office; and when that is at an end, you are as intimate as ever you were, and he will take it very ill if you keep the distance he prescribed you towards him in his grandeur. One would think this should be a behaviour a man could fall into with the worst grace imaginable; but they who know the world have seen than once. I have often, with secret pity, heard the same man who has professed his abhorrence against all kind of passive behaviour, lose minutes, I DID some time ago lay before the world the un-one who had no inclination to befriend him. It is hours, days, and years, in a fruitless attendance on happy condition of the trading part of mankind very much to be regretted, that the great have one who suffer by want of punctuality in the dealings particular privilege above the rest of the world, of of persons above them; but there is a set of men being slow in receiving impressions of kindness, who are much more the objects of compassion than and quick in taking offence. The elevation above even those; and these are the dependants on great the rest of mankind, except in very great minds, men, whom they are pleased to take under their makes men so giddy, that they do not see after the protection as such as are to share in their friendship and favour. These, indeed, as well from the their old friends, and strive to extend their inte same manner they did before. Thus they despise homage that is accepted from them, as the hopes rest to new pretenders. By this means it often which are given to them, are become a sort of creditors; and these debts being debts of honour, lost such an employment, you will find the me happens, that when you come to know how you • Psal, exxxix. 2, 3.—We may here observe, once for all, that who got it never dreamed of it; but, forsooth, he the Spectator seems generally to have quoted by memory, whe was to be surprised into it, or perhaps solicited to theks themselves, his quotations will be found always substan- may perhaps grow out of humour. If you are so ther from scriptural or profane writers: if compared with the receive it. Upon such occasions as these a man all mankind will fall in with the patron, and you
stially, but not verbally, correct.
Gen. v. 22, vi. 9.
ants, I would
who are wa ut any call, wil
hose who eithe no obligator
eak of such ligation on
on on the cite
d client, nation; the e client, ndred of
ns, as many
Deg leave tume and prospect of
of a tradest him. Of
consider the somuch th
his son to
de him of of quality.
ut of the
are an humorist and untractable if you are capa-
Ingenuous arts, where they an entrance find,
There are but two ways of doing any thing with great people; and those are, by making yourself either considerable or agreeable. The former is not to be attained but by finding a way to live CONSIDER a human soul without education like without them, or concealing that you want them; marble in the quarry, which shows none of its inthe latter is only by falling into their taste and plea- herent beauties, till the skill of the polisher fetches sures. This is of all the employments in the world out the colours, makes the surface shine, and disthe most servile, except it happens to be of your covers every ornamental cloud, spot, and vein that own natural humour. For to be agreeable to runs through the body of it. Education, after the another, especially if he be above you, is not to be same manner, when it works upon a noble mind, possessed of such qualities and accomplishments draws out to view every latent virtue and perfecas should render you agreeable in yourself, but tion, which without such helps are never able to such as make you agreeable in respect to him. make their appearance.
An imitation of his faults, or a compliance, if not If my reader will give me leave to change the subservience to his vices, must be the measures of allusion so soon upon him, I shall make use of the your conduct. same instance to illustrate the force of education, When it comes to that, the unnatural state a man which Aristotle has brought to explain his doctrine lives in, when his patron pleases, is ended; and of substantial forms, when he tells us that a statue his guilt and complaisance are objected to him, lies hid in a block of marble; and that the art of though the man who rejects him for his vices was the statuary only clears away the superfluous matnot only his partner, but seducer. Thus the client ter and removes the rubbish. The figure is in the (like a young woman who has given up the inno-stone, the sculptor only finds it. What sculpture cence which made her charming) has not only lost is to a block of marble, education is to a human and Ishis time, but also the virtue which could render soul. The philosopher, the saint, or the hero; the but I him capable of resenting the injury which is done wise, the good, or the great man, very often lie hid and concealed in a plebeian, which a proper
me their per
reat m Ttwenti
y than t estation
It would be endless to recount the tricks of turn-education might have disinterred, and have empleting you off from themselves to persons who have brought to light. I am therefore much delighted less power to serve you, the art of being sorry with reading the accounts of savage nations, and for such an unaccountable accident in your beha- with contemplating those virtues which are wild viour, that such a one (who, perhaps, has never and uncultivated; to see courage exerting itself heard of you) opposes your advancement: and if in fierceness, resolution in obstinacy, wisdom in you have any thing more than ordinary in you, you cunning, patience in sullenness and despair. are flattered with a whisper, that it is no wonder people are so slow in doing for a man of your ta
De is to 2
Ju are b
Swalents, and the like.
After all this treatment, I must still add the pleasantest insolence of all, which I have once or twice seen; to wit, that when a silly rogue has thrown away one part in three of his life in unprofitable attendance, it is taken wonderfully ill the that he withdraws, and is resolved to employ the
rest for himself.
Men's passions operate variously, and appear in different kinds of actions, according as they are more or less rectified and swayed by reason. When one hears of negroes, who upon the death of their masters, or upon changing their service, hang themselves upon the next tree, as it frequently happens in our American plantations, who can forbear admiring their fidelity, though it expresses itself in so dreadful a manner? What might not that savage greatness of soul which apWhen we consider these things, and reflect upon pears in these poor wretches on many occasions, so many honest natures (which one who makes ob- be raised to, were it rightly cultivated? And what servation of what passes may have seen) that have colour of excuse can there be for the contempt with miscarried by such sort of applications, it is too which we treat this part of our species? that we melancholy a scene to dwell upon; therefore I should not put them upon the common foot of hushall take another opportunity to discourse of manity; that we should only set an insignificant good patrons, and distinguish such as have done fine upon the man who murders them; nay, that their duty to those who have depended upon them, we should, as much as in us lies, cut them off from and were not able to act without their favour. the prospects of happiness in another world as Worthy patrons are like Plato's guardian angels, well as in this, and deny them that which we look who are always doing good to their wards; but upon as the proper means for attaining it? negligent patrons are like Epicurus's gods, that le lolling on the clouds, and instead of blessings pour down storms and tempests on the heads of those that are offering incense to them.
Since I am engaged on this subject, I cannot forbear mentioning a story which I have lately heard, and which is so well attested, that I have no manner of reason to suspect the truth of it. I may call it a kind of wild tragedy that passed about twelve years ago at Saint Christopher's, one of our British Leeward islands. The negroes who were the persons concerned in it, were all of them the slaves of a gentleman who is now in England.
This gentleman among his negroes had a young woman, who was looked upon as a most extraordinary beauty by those of her own complexion.
He had at the same time two young fellows who day to day contribute something to the polishing were likewise negroes and slaves, remarkable for of men's minds; at least my design is laudable, the omeliness of their persons, and for the friend-whatever the execution may be. I must confess I shi which they bore to one another. It unfortu- am not a little encouraged in it by many letters nely happened that both of them fell in love with which I receive from unknown hands, in approba he female negro above-mentioned, who would tion of my endeavours; and must take this opporhave been very glad to have taken either of them tunity of returning my thanks to those who write for her husband, provided they could agree be-them, and excusing myself for not inserting several tween themselves which should be the man. But of them in my papers, which I am sensible would they were both so passionately in love with her, be a very great ornament to them. Should I pub. that neither of them could think of giving her up lish the praises which are so well penned, they to his rival; and at the same time were so true to would do honour to the persons who write them; one another, that neither of them would think of but my publishing of them would, I fear, be a sufgaining her without his friend's consent. The tor-ficient instance to the world that I did not deserve ments of these two lovers were the discourse of them. the family to which they belonged, who could not forbear observing the strange complication of passions which perplexed the hearts of the poor ne
groes, that often dropped expressions of the unea-No 216. WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 7, 1711, siness they underwent, and how impossible it was for either of them ever to be happy.
After a long struggle between love and friendship, truth and jealousy, they one day took a walk together into a wood, carrying their mistress along with them: where, after abundance of lamenta. tions they stabbed her to the heart, of which she immediately died. A slave who was at his work not far from the place where this astonishing piece of cruelty was committed, hearing the shrieks of the dying person, ran to see what was the occasion of them. He there discovered the woman lying dead upon the ground, with the two negroes on each side of her, kissing the dead corpse, weeping over it, and beating their breasts in the utmost agonies of grief and despair. He immediately ran to the English family with the news of what he had seen; who upon coming to the place saw the woman dead, and the two negroes expiring by her with wounds they had given themselves.
Siquidem hercle possis, nil prius, neque fortius:
TER. Ean. act i. se. 1.
If indeed you can keep to your resolution, you will act a noble and a manly part: but if, when you have set about it, your courage fails you, and you make a voluntary submission, ac knowledging the violence of your passion, and your inabi lity to hold out any longer, all's over with you; you are un done, and may go hang yourself; she will insult over you, when she finds you her slave.
TO THE SPECTATOR.
THIS is to inform you, that Mr. Freeman had no sooner taken coach, but his lady was taken with a terrible fit of the vapours, which, it is feared, will make her miscarry, if not endanger her life; there We see in this amazing instance of barbarity, fore, dear sir, if you know of any receipt that is what strange disorders are bred in the minds of good against this fashionable reigning distemper, those men whose passions are not regulated by vir- be pleased to communicate it for the good of the tue, and disciplined by reason. Though the action public, and you will oblige, which I have recited is in itself full of guilt and horror, it proceeded from a temper of mind which might have produced very noble fruits had it been informed and guided by a suitable education.
It is therefore an unspeakable blessing to be THE uproar was so great as soon as I had read born in those parts of the world where wisdom and the Spectator concerning Mrs. Freeman," that knowledge flourish; though it must be confessed, after many revolutions in her temper, of raging, there are, even in these parts, several poor unin- swooning, railing, fainting, pitying herself, and restructed persons, who are but little above the inha-viling her husband, upon an accidental coming in bitants of those nations of which I have been here of a neighbouring lady (who says she has writte speaking; as those who have had the advantages you also) she had nothing left for it but to fall in a of a more liberal education, rise above one ano-fit. I had the honour to read the paper to her, and ther by several different degrees of perfection. have pretty good command of countenance and For, to return to our statue in the block of marble, temper on such occasions; and soon found my we see it sometimes only begun to be chipped, torical name to be Tom Meggot in your writings sometimes rough-hewn, and but just sketched into but concealed myself till I saw how it affected an human figure; sometimes we see the man ap- Mrs. Freeman. She looked frequently at her hus pearing distinctly in all his limbs and features, band, as often at me: and she did not tremble as sometimes we find the figure wrought up to a she filled tea, till she came to the circumstance of great elegancy, but seldom meet with any to which Armstrong's writing out a piece of Tully for the hand of a Phidias or Praxiteles could not give opera tune. Then she burst out, she was exposed, several nice touches and finishings. Discourses of morality, and reflections upon hushe was deceived, she was wronged and abused. man nature, are the best means we can make use taking vengeance on her spouse, she said of to improve our minds, and gain a true know that I was a pretending coxcomb, a meddler that ledge of ourselves, and consequently to recover knew not what it was to interpose in so nicech our souls out of the vice, ignorance, and prejudice, affair as between a man and his wife. To which which naturally cleave to them. I have all along Mr. Freeman: "Madam, were I less fond of you professed myself in this paper a promoter of these great ends; and I flatter myself that I do from
* No. 212.
ng to the p design is
ust take this
am sensible em. Shot
than I am, I should not have taken this way of of, than one who has rescued him from slavery. writing to the Spectator, to inform a woman, Mr. Spectator, I am but a young fellow, and if whom God and nature has placed under my direc- Mr. Freeman submits, I shall be looked upon as it by may ation, with what I request of her; but since you an incendiary, and never get a wife as long as I are so indiscreet as not to take the hint which I breathe. He has indeed sent word home he shall gave you in that paper, I must tell you, madam, lie at Hampstead to-night; but I believe fear of in so many words, that you have for a long and the first onset after this rupture has too great a tedious space of time acted a part unsuitable to place in this resolution. Mrs. Freeman has a very the sense you ought to have of the subordination pretty sister; suppose I delivered him up, and arin which you are placed. And I must acquaint ticled with the mother for her bringing him home. you once for all, that the fellow without Ah, If he has not courage to stand it (you are a great who wrTom-(here the footman entered and answered-casuist), is it such an ill thing to bring myself off Id, I fear Madam)-Sirrah, don't you know my voice? Look as well as I can? What makes me doubt my man, at I did upon me when I speak to you.'-I say, madam, is, that I find he thinks it reasonable to expostuthis fellow here is to know of me myself, whether late at least with her; and Captain Sentry will I am at leisure to see company or not. I am from tell you, if you let your orders be disputed, you are this hour master of this house; and my business in no longer a commander. I wish you could advise it, and every where else, is to behave myself in me how to get clear of this business handsomely. EMBER such a manne as it shall be hereafter an honour
No 217, THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 8, 1711.
Tunc fœmina simplex,
Et pariter toto repetitur clamor an antro.
JUV. Sat. vi. ver. 326.
Then unrestrain'd by rules of decency,
to you to bear my name; and your pride that you are the delight, the darling, and ornament of a man of honour, useful and esteemed by his friends; and I no longer one that has buried some merit in the world, in compliance to a froward humour which has grown upon an agreeable woman by his indulgence." Mr. Freeman ended this with a tenderness in his aspect, and a downcast eye, which showed he was extremely moved at the anguish he saw her in; for she sat swelling with passion, and her eyes firmly fixed on the fire; when 1, fearing he would lose again, took upon me to provoke her out of that amiable sorrow she was in, to fall upon me; upon which I said very seasonI SHALL entertain my reader to-day with some letably for my friend, that indeed Mr. Freeman was ters from my correspondents. The first of them become the common talk of the town; and that is the description of a club, whether real or imaginothing was so much a jest, as when it was said in nary I cannot determine; but am apt to fancy, Frenda Company, Mr. Freeman has promised to come to kind of nocturnal orgie out of her own fancy. that the writer of it, whoever she is, has formed a such a place. Upon which the good lady turned her softness into downright rage, and threw the Whether this be so or not, her letter may conduce scalding tea-kettle upon your humble servant, flew to the amendment of that kind of persons who are into the middle of the room, and cried out she represented in it, and whose characters are frewas the unfortunatest of all women. Others kept quent enough in the world.
it is te
family dissatisfactions for hours of privacy and retirement. No apology was to be made to her,
no expedient to be found, no previous manner of In some of your first papers you were pleased to breaking what was amiss in her; but all the world give the public a very diverting account of several Was to be acquainted with her errors, without the clubs and nocturnal assemblies; but I am a memleast admonition. Mr. Freeman was going to make ber of a society which has wholly escaped your a softening speech, but I interposed: "Look you, notice, I mean a club of She-Romps. We take madam, I have nothing to say to this matter, but each a hackney-coach, and meet once a week in a you ought to consider you are now past a chicken: large upper-chamber, which we hire by the year this humour, which was well enough in a girl, is for that purpose; our landlord and his family, insufferable in one of your motherly character." who are quiet people, constantly contriving to be With that she lost all patience, and few directly abroad on our club night. We are no sooner come at her husband's periwig. I got her in my arms, together, than we throw off all that modesty and and defended my friend; he making signs at the reservedness with which our sex are obliged to dissame time that it was too much; I beckoning, guise themselves in public places. I am not able nodding, and frowning over her shoulder, that he to express the pleasure we enjoy from ten at night as lost if he did not persist. In this manner she till four in the morning, in being as rude as you Hew round and round the room in a moment, until men can be for your lives. As our play runs high, the lady I spoke of above and servants entered; the room is immediately filled with broken fans, upon which she fell upon a couch as breathless. I torn petticoats, lappets, or head-dresses, flounces, sill kept up my friend: but he, with a very silly furbelows, garters, and working-aprons. I had ar, bid them bring the coach to the door, and we forgot to tell you at first, that besides the coaches went off: I being forced to bid the coachman we come in ourselves, there is one which stands drive on. We were no sooner come to my lodg. always empty to carry off our dead men, for so ings, but all his wife's relations came to inquire we call all those fragments and tatters with which after him; and Mrs. Freeman's mother writ a note, the room is strewed, and which we pack up togewherein she thought never to have seen this day, It is no small diversion for us to meet the next ther in bundles and put into the aforesaid coach.
and so forth.
In a word, sir, I am afraid we are upon a night at some member's chamber, where every one we have no talents for; and I can observe is to pick out what belonged to her from this conalready, my friend looks upon me rather as a man
hat knows a weakness of him that he is ashamed
It appears probable, that this is a mistake for worked. aprons.