The Spectator Volume I Part 101

No. 145. Thursday, August 16, 1711. Steele.

'Stult.i.tiam patiuntur opes ...'

Hor.

If the following Enormities are not amended upon the first Mention, I desire further Notice from my Correspondents.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

'I am obliged to you for your Discourse the other Day upon frivolous Disputants, who with great Warmth, and Enumeration of many Circ.u.mstances and Authorities, undertake to prove Matters which no Body living denies. You cannot employ your self more usefully than in adjusting the Laws of Disputation in Coffee-houses and accidental Companies, as well as in more formal Debates. Among many other things which your own Experience must suggest to you, it will be very obliging if you please to take notice of Wagerers. I will not here repeat what _Hudibras_ says of such Disputants, which is so true, that it is almost Proverbial; [1] but shall only acquaint you with a Set of young Fellows of the Inns of Court, whose Fathers have provided for them so plentifully, that they need not be very anxious to get Law into their Heads for the Service of their Country at the Bar; but are of those who are sent (as the Phrase of Parents is) to the _Temple_ to know how to keep their own. One of these Gentlemen is very loud and captious at a Coffee-house which I frequent, and being in his Nature troubled with an Humour of Contradiction, though withal excessive Ignorant, he has found a way to indulge this Temper, go on in Idleness and Ignorance, and yet still give himself the Air of a very learned and knowing Man, by the Strength of his Pocket. The Misfortune of the thing is, I have, as it happens sometimes, a greater Stock of Learning than of Mony. The Gentleman I am speaking of, takes Advantage of the Narrowness of my Circ.u.mstances in such a manner, that he has read all that I can pretend to, and runs me down with such a positive Air, and with such powerful Arguments, that from a very Learned Person I am thought a mere Pretender. Not long ago I was relating that I had read such a Pa.s.sage in _Tacitus_, up starts my young Gentleman in a full Company, and pulling out his Purse offered to lay me ten Guineas, to be staked immediately in that Gentleman's Hands, (pointing to one smoaking at another Table) that I was utterly mistaken. I was Dumb for want of ten Guineas; he went on unmercifully to Triumph over my Ignorance how to take him up, and told the whole Room he had read _Tacitus_ twenty times over, and such a remarkable Instance as that could not escape him. He has at this time three considerable Wagers depending between him and some of his Companions, who are rich enough to hold an Argument with him. He has five Guineas upon Questions in Geography, two that the _Isle of Wight_ is a Peninsula, and three Guineas to one that the World is round. We have a Gentleman comes to our Coffee-house, who deals mightily in Antique Scandal; my Disputant has laid him twenty Pieces upon a Point of History, to wit, that _Caesar_ never lay with _Cato's_ Sister, as is scandalously reported by some People.

There are several of this sort of Fellows in Town, who wager themselves into Statesmen, Historians, Geographers, Mathematicians, and every other Art, when the Persons with whom they talk have not Wealth equal to their Learning. I beg of you to prevent, in these Youngsters, this compendious Way to Wisdom, which costs other People so much Time and Pains, and you will oblige

_Your humble Servant._

_Coffee-House near the_ Temple, Aug. 12, 1711.

_Mr_. SPECTATOR,

'Here's a young Gentleman that sings Opera-Tunes or Whistles in a full House. Pray let him know that he has no Right to act here as if he were in an empty Room. Be pleased to divide the s.p.a.ces of a Publick Room, and certify Whistlers, Singers, and Common Orators, that are heard further than their Portion of the Room comes [to,] that the Law is open, and that there is an Equity which will relieve us from such as interrupt us in our Lawful Discourse, as much as against such as stop us on the Road. I take these Persons, Mr. SPECTATOR, to be such Trespa.s.sers as the Officer in your Stage-Coach, and of the same Sentiment with Counsellor _Ephraim_. It is true the Young Man is rich, and, as the Vulgar say, [needs [1]] not care for any Body; but sure that is no Authority for him to go whistle where he pleases.

_I am, SIR_, _Your Most Humble Servant_,

_P.S._ I have Chambers in the _Temple_, and here are Students that learn upon the Hautboy; pray desire the Benchers that all Lawyers who are Proficients in Wind-Musick may lodge to the _Thames_.

_Mr_. SPECTATOR,

We are a Company of young Women who pa.s.s our Time very much together, and obliged by the mercenary Humour of the Men to be as Mercenarily inclined as they are. There visits among us an old Batchelor whom each of us has a Mind to. The Fellow is rich, and knows he may have any of us, therefore is particular to none, but excessively ill-bred. His Pleasantry consists in Romping, he s.n.a.t.c.hes Kisses by Surprize, puts his Hand in our Necks, tears our Fans, robs us of Ribbons, forces Letters out of our Hands, looks into any of our Papers, and a thousand other Rudenesses. Now what I'll desire of you is to acquaint him, by Printing this, that if he does not marry one of us very suddenly, we have all agreed, the next time he pretends to be merry, to affront him, and use him like a Clown as he is. In the Name of the Sisterhood I take my Leave of you, and am, as they all are,

_Your Constant Reader and Well-wisher_.

_Mr_. SPECTATOR,

I and several others of your Female Readers, have conformed our selves to your Rules, even to our very Dress. There is not one of us but has reduced our outward Petticoat to its ancient Sizable Circ.u.mference, tho' indeed we retain still a Quilted one underneath, which makes us not altogether unconformable to the Fas.h.i.+on; but 'tis on Condition, Mr. SPECTATOR extends not his Censure so far. But we find you Men secretly approve our Practice, by imitating our Pyramidical Form. The Skirt of your fas.h.i.+onable Coats forms as large a Circ.u.mference as our Petticoats; as these are set out with Whalebone, so are those with Wire, to encrease and sustain the Bunch of Fold that hangs down on each Side; and the Hat, I perceive, is decreased in just proportion to our Head-dresses. We make a regular Figure, but I defy your Mathematicks to give Name to the Form you appear in. Your Architecture is mere _Gothick_, and betrays a worse Genius than ours; therefore if you are partial to your own s.e.x, I shall be less than I am now

_Your Humble Servant_.

T.

[Footnote 1:

_I have heard old cunning Stagers Say Fools for Arguments lay Wagers._

Hudibras, Part II. c. i.]

[Footnote 2: need]

No. 146. Friday, August 17, 1711. Steele.

'Nemo Vir Magnus sine aliquo Afflatu divino unquam fuit.'

Tull.

We know the highest Pleasure our Minds are capable of enjoying with Composure, when we read Sublime Thoughts communicated to us by Men of great Genius and Eloquence. Such is the Entertainment we meet with in the Philosophick Parts of _Cicero_'s Writings. Truth and good Sense have there so charming a Dress, that they could hardly be more agreeably represented with the Addition of Poetical Fiction and the Power of Numbers. This ancient Author, and a modern one, had fallen into my Hands within these few Days; and the Impressions they have left upon me, have at the present quite spoiled me for a merry Fellow. The Modern is that admirable Writer the Author of _The Theory of the Earth_. The Subjects with which I have lately been entertained in them both bear a near Affinity; they are upon Enquiries into Hereafter, and the Thoughts of the latter seem to me to be raised above those of the former in proportion to his Advantages of Scripture and Revelation. If I had a Mind to it, I could not at present talk of any thing else; therefore I shall translate a Pa.s.sage in the one, and transcribe a Paragraph out of the other, for the Speculation of this Day. _Cicero_ tells us, [1] that _Plato_ reports _Socrates_, upon receiving his Sentence, to have spoken to his Judges in the following manner.

I have great Hopes, oh my Judges, that it is infinitely to my Advantage that I am sent to Death: For it is of necessity that one of these two things must be the Consequence. Death must take away all these Senses, or convey me to another Life. If all Sense is to be taken away, and Death is no more than that profound Sleep without Dreams, in which we are sometimes buried, oh Heavens! how desirable is it to die? how many Days do we know in Life preferable to such a State? But if it be true that Death is but a Pa.s.sage to Places which they who lived before us do now inhabit, how much still happier is it to go from those who call themselves Judges, to appear before those that really are such; before _Minos, Rhadamanthus, aeacus_, and _Triptolemus_, and to meet Men who have lived with Justice and Truth?

Is this, do you think, no happy Journey? Do you think it nothing to speak with _Orpheus, Musceus, Homer_, and _Hesiod_? I would, indeed, suffer many Deaths to enjoy these Things. With what particular Delight should I talk to _Palamedes, Ajax_, and others, who like me have suffered by the Iniquity of their Judges. I should examine the Wisdom of that great Prince, who carried such mighty Forces against _Troy_; and argue with _Ulysses_ and _Sisyphus_, upon difficult Points, as I have in Conversation here, without being in Danger of being condemned.

But let not those among you who have p.r.o.nounced me an innocent Man be afraid of Death. No Harm can arrive at a good Man whether dead or living; his Affairs are always under the direction of the G.o.ds; nor will I believe the Fate which is allotted to me myself this Day to have arrived by Chance; nor have I ought to say either against my Judges or Accusers, but that they thought they did me an Injury ...

But I detain you too long, it is Time that I retire to Death, and you to your Affairs of Life; which of us has the Better is known to the G.o.ds, but to no Mortal Man.

The Divine _Socrates_ is here represented in a Figure worthy his great Wisdom and Philosophy, worthy the greatest mere Man that ever breathed.

But the modern Discourse is written upon a Subject no less than the Dissolution of Nature it self. Oh how glorious is the old Age of that great Man, who has spent his Time in such Contemplations as has made this Being, what only it should be, an Education for Heaven! He has, according to the Lights of Reason and Revelation, which seemed to him clearest, traced the Steps of Omnipotence: He has, with a Celestial Ambition, as far as it is consistent with Humility and Devotion, examined the Ways of Providence, from the Creation to the Dissolution of the visible World. How pleasing must have been the Speculation, to observe Nature and Providence move together, the Physical and Moral World march the same Pace: To observe Paradise and eternal Spring the Seat of Innocence, troubled Seasons and angry Skies the Portion of Wickedness and Vice. When this admirable Author has reviewed all that has past, or is to come, which relates to the habitable World, and run through the whole Fate of it, how could a Guardian Angel, that had attended it through all its Courses or Changes, speak more emphatically at the End of his Charge, than does our Author when he makes, as it were, a Funeral Oration over this Globe, looking to the Point where it once stood? [2]

Let us only, if you please, to take leave of this Subject, reflect upon this Occasion on the Vanity and transient Glory of this habitable World. How by the Force of one Element breaking loose upon the rest, all the Vanities of Nature, all the Works of Art, all the Labours of Men, are reduced to Nothing. All that we admired and adored before as great and magnificent, is obliterated or vanished; and another Form and Face of things, plain, simple, and every where the same, overspreads the whole Earth. Where are now the great Empires of the World, and their great Imperial Cities? Their Pillars, Trophies, and Monuments of Glory? Shew me where they stood, read the Inscription, tell me the Victors Name. What Remains, what Impressions, what Difference or Distinction, do you see in this Ma.s.s of Fire? _Rome_ it self, eternal _Rome_, the great City, the Empress of the World, whose Domination and Superst.i.tion, ancient and modern, make a great Part of the History of the Earth, what is become of her now? She laid her Foundations deep, and her Palaces were strong and sumptuous; _She glorified her self, and lived deliciously, and said in her Heart, I sit a Queen, and shall see no Sorrow_: But her Hour is come, she is wiped away from the Face of the Earth, and buried in everlasting Oblivion. But it is not Cities only, and Works of Mens Hands, but the everlasting Hills, the Mountains and Rocks of the Earth are melted as Wax before the Sun, and _their Place is no where found_. Here stood the _Alps_, the Load of the Earth, that covered many Countries, and reached their Arms from the Ocean to the _Black Sea_; this huge Ma.s.s of Stone is softned and dissolved as a tender Cloud into Rain. Here stood the _African_ Mountains, and _Atlas_ with his Top above the Clouds; there was frozen _Caucasus_, and _Taurus_, and _Imaus_, and the Mountains of _Asia_; and yonder towards the North, stood the _Riphaean_ Hills, cloathd in Ice and Snow. All these are Vanished, dropt away as the Snow upon their Heads. _Great and Marvellous are thy Works, Just and True are thy Ways, thou King of Saints! Hallelujah_.

[Footnote 1: 'Tusculan Questions', Bk. I.]

[Footnote 2: 'Theory of the Earth', Book III., ch. xii.]