Obrázky stránek
PDF
ePub

to their amusement, or the improvement | lieve any place more entertaining than Coof the mind. I lay one night last week at vent-garden; where I strolled from one Richmond; and being restless, not out of fruit-shop to another, with crowds of agreedissatisfaction, but a certain busy inclina- able young women around me, who were tion one sometimes has, I rose at four in purchasing fruit for their respective famithe morning, and took boat for London, lies. It was almost eight of the clock bewith a resolution to rove by boat and coach fore I could leave that variety of objects. I for the next four-and-twenty hours, till the took coach and followed a young lady, many different objects I must needs meet who tripped into another just before me, with should tire my imagination, and give attended by her maid. I saw immediately me an inclination to a repose more profound she was of the family of the Vain-loves. than I was at that time capable of. I beg There are a set of these, who of all things, people's pardon for an odd humour I am effect the play of Blindman's-buff, and guilty of, and was often that day, which is leading men into love for they know not saluting any person whom I like, whether whom, who are fled they know not where. I know him or not. This is a particularity This sort of woman is usually a janty slatwould be tolerated in me, if they considered tern; she hangs on her clothes, plays her that the greatest pleasure I know I receive head, varies her posture, and changes at my eyes, and that I am obliged to an place incessantly, and all with an appearagreeable person for coming a broad into ance of striving at the same time to hide my view, as another is for a visit of con- herself, and yet give you to understand she versation at their own houses. is in humour to laugh at you. You must have often seen the coachmen make signs with their fingers, as they drive by each other, to intimate how much they have got that day. They can carry on that language to give intelligence where they are driving. In an instant my coachman took the wink to pursue; and the lady's driver gave the hint that he was going through Long-acre towards St. James's: while he whipped up James-street, we drove for King-street, to save the pass at St. Martin's-lane. coachman took care to meet, jostle, and threaten each other for way, and be entangled at the end of Newport-street and Long-acre. The fright, you must believe, brought down the lady's coach door, and obliged her, with her mask off, to inquire into the bustle,-when she sees the man she would avoid. The tackle of the coachwindow is so bad she cannot draw it up again, and she drives on sometimes wholly discovered and sometimes half escaped, according to the accident of carriages in her way. One of these ladies keeps her seat in a hackney-coach, as well as the best rider does on a managed horse. The laced shoe on her left foot, with a careless gesture just appearing on the opposite cushion, held her both firm, and in proper attitude to receive the next jolt.

The hours of the day and night are taken up in the cities of London and Westminster, by people as different from each other as those who are born in different centuries. Men of six o'clock give way to those of nine, they of nine, to the generation of twelve; and they of twelve disappear, and make room for the fashionable world, who have made two o'clock the noon of the day.

When we first put off from shore, we soon fell in with a fleet of gardeners, bound for the several market-ports of London; and it was the most pleasing scene imaginable to see the cheerfulness with which those industrious people plyed their way to a certain sale of their goods. The banks on each side are as well peopled, and beautified with as agreeable plantations as any spot on the earth; but the Thames itself, loaded with the product of each shore, added very much to the landscape. It was very easy to observe by their sailing, and the countenances of the ruddy virgins, who were supercargoes, the part of the town to which they were bound. Their was an air in the purveyors for Covent-garden, who frequently converse with morning rakes, very unlike the seeming sobriety of those bound for Stocks-market.

Nothing remarkable happened in our voyage; but I landed with ten sail of apricot boats, at Strand-bridge, after having put in at Nine-Elms, and taken in melons, consigned by Mr. Cuffee, of that place, to Sarah Sewell and company, at their stall in Covent-garden. We arrived at Strand-bridge at six of the clock, and were unloading, when the hackney-coachmen of the foregoing night took their leave of each other at the Dark-House, to go to bed before the day was too far spent. Chimney-sweepers passed by us as we made up to the market, and some raillery happened between one of the fruit-wenches and those black men, about the Devil and Eve, with allusion to their several professions. I could not be

The

As she was an excellent coach-woman, many were the glances at each other which we had for an hour and a half, in all parts of the town, by the skill of our drivers; till at last my lady was conveniently lost, with notice from her coachman to ours to make off, and he should hear where she went. This chase was now at an end; and the fellow who drove her came to us, and discovered that he was ordered to come again in an hour, for that she was a Silk-worm. I was surprised with this phrase, but found it was a cant among the hackney fraternity for their best customers, women who ramble twice or thrice a week from shop to shop, to turn over all the goods in town without buying any thing. The silk-worms

are, it seems, indulged by the tradesmen; | wiser thoughts, I had liked to have lost my for, though they never buy, they are ever talking of new silks, laces and ribands, and serve the owners in getting them customers as their common dunners do in making them pay.

place at the chop-house, where every man, according to the natural bashfulness or sullenness of our nation, eats in a public room a mess of broth, or chop of meat, in dumb silence, as if they had no pretence to speak to each other on the foot of being men, except they were of each other's acquaintance.

The day of people of fashion began now to break, and carts and hacks were mingled with equipages of show and vanity; when I resolved to walk it, out of cheap- I went afterwards to Robin's, and saw ness; but my unhappy curiosity is such, people who had dined with me at the fivethat I find it always my interest to take penny ordinary just before, give bills for coach; for some odd adventure among beg- the value of large estates; and could not but gars, ballad singers, or the like, detains behold with great pleasure, property lodged and throws me into expense. It happened in, and transferred in a moment from, such so immediately; for at the corner of War- as would never be masters of half as much wick-street, as I was listening to a new as is seemingly in them, and given from ballad, a ragged rascal, a beggar who knew them, every day they live. But before five me, came up to me, and began to turn the in the afternoon I left the city, came to my eyes of the good company upon me, by tell- common scene of Covent-garden, and passed ing me he was extremely poor, and should the evening at Will's, in attending the disdie in the street for want of drink, except courses of several sets of people, who reI immediately would have the charity to lieved each other, within my hearing, on give him sixpence go into the next ale-house the subjects of cards, dice, love, learning, and save his life. He urged with a melan- and politics. The last subject kept me till choly face, that all his family had died of I heard the streets in the possession of the thirst. All the mob have humour, and two bell-man, who had now the world to himor three began to take the jest; by which self, and cried Past two o'clock.' This Mr. Sturdy carried his point, and let me roused me from my seat; and I went to my sneak off to a coach. As I drove along, it lodgings, led by a light, whom I put into was a pleasing reflection to see the world the discourse of his private economy, and so prettily checkered since I left Richmond, made him give me an account of the charge, and the scene still filling with children of a hazard, profit, and loss of a family that denew hour. This satisfaction increased as pended upon a link, with a design to end I moved towards the city; and gay signs, my trivial day with the generosity of sixwell-disposed streets, magnificent public pence, instead of a third part of that sum. structures, and wealthy shops, adorned When I came to my chambers, I writ down with contented faces, made the joy still these minutes: but was at a loss what inrising till we came into the centre of the struction I should propose to my reader city, and centre of the world of trade, the from the enumeration of so many insignifiExchange of London. As other men in the cant matters and occurrences: and I thought crowds about me were pleased with their it of great use, if they could learn with me hopes and bargains, I found my account in to keep their minds open to gratification, observing them, in attention to their seve- and ready to receive it from any thing it ral interests. I indeed, looked upon my- meets with. This one circumstance will self as the richest man that walked the Ex-make every face you see give you the satischange that day; for my benevolence made faction you now take in beholding that of a me share the gains of every bargain that friend; will make every object a pleasing was made. It was not the least of my satis-one; will make all the good which arrives faction in my survey, to go up stairs, and to any man, an increase of happiness to pass the shops of agreeable females; to ob- yourself. serve so many pretty hands busy in the

folding of ribands, and the utmost eagerness

Ego apis matinæ
More modoque,

T.

of agreeable faces in the sale of patches, No. 455.] Tuesday, August 12, 1712. pins, and wires, on each side of the counters, was an amusement in which I could longer have indulged myself, had not the dear creatures called to me, to ask what I wanted, when I could not answer, only

To look at you.' I went to one of the windows which opened to the area below, where all the several voices lost their distinction, and rose up in a confused humming; which created in me a reflection that could not come into the mind of any but one a little too studious; for I said to myself with a kind of pun in thought, 'What nonsense is all the hurry of this world to those who are above it?' In these, or not much

Grata carpentis thyma per laborem
Plurimum-

Hor. Od. ii. Lib. 4. 27

-My timorous muse
Unambitious tracts pursues:
Does with weak unballast wings,
About the mossy brooks and springs,
Like the laborious bee,

For little drops of honey fly,
And there with humble sweets contents her industry.
Cowley.

THE following letters have in them reflections which will seem of importance both to the learned world and to domestic

life. There is in the first, an allegory soment, in a wonderful variety of figures, well carried on, that it cannot but be very colours, and scents; however, most of them pleasing to those who have a taste of good withered soon, or at best are but annuals. writing; and the other billets may have Some professed florists make them their their use in common life. constant study and employment, and despise all fruit; and now and then a few fanciful people spend all their time in the cultivation of a single tulip, or a carnation. But the most agreeable amusement seems to be the well-choosing, mixing, and binding together these flowers in pleasing nosegays, to present to ladies. The scent of Italian flowers is observed, like their other perfumes, to be too strong, and to hurt the brain; that of the French with glaring gaudy colours, yet faint and languid: German and northern flowers have little or no smell, or sometimes an unpleasant one. The ancients had a secret to give a lasting beauty, colour, and sweetness, to some of their choice flowers, which flourish to this day, and which few of the moderns can effect. These are becoming enough and agreeable in their seasons, and do often handsomely adorn an entertainment: but an over-fondness of them seems to be a disease. It rarely happens, to find a plant vigorous enough to have (like an orange-tree,) at once beautiful and shining leaves, fragrant flowers, and delicious, nourishing fruit. Sir, yours, &c.'

August 6, 1712.

'MR. SPECTATOR,-As I walked the other day in a fine garden, and observed the great variety of improvements in plants and flowers, beyond what they otherwise would have been, I was naturally led into a reflection upon the advantages of education, or modern culture: how many good qualities in the mind are lost for want of the like due care in nursing and skilfully managing them; how many virtues are choked by the multitude of weeds which are suffered to grow among them; how excellent parts are often starved and useless, by being planted in a wrong soil; and how very seldom do these moral seeds produce the noble fruits which might be expected from them, by a neglect of proper manuring, necessary pruning, and an artful management of our tender inclinations and first spring of life. These obvious speculations made me at length conclude, that there is a sort of vegetable principle in the mind of every man when he comes into the world. In infants, the seeds lie buried and undiscovered, till after a while they sprout forth in a kind of rational leaves, which are words; and in due season the flowers begin 'DEAR SPEC,-You have given us, in to appear in a variety of beautiful colours, and all the gay pictures of youthful fancy your Spectator of Saturday last, a very excellent discourse upon the force of custom, and imagination; at last the fruit knits and and its wonderful efficacy in making every is formed, which is green perhaps at first, sour and unpleasant to the taste, and not fit thing pleasant to us. I cannot deny but that to be gathered: till, ripened by due care struction from your paper, and in the geneI received above two-pennyworth of inand application, it discovers itself in all ral was very well pleased with it; but I am, the noble productions of philosophy, ma- without a compliment, sincerely troubled thematics, close reasoning, and handsome that I cannot exactly be of your opinion, argumentation. These fruits, when they that it makes every thing pleasing to us. arrive at just maturity, and are of a good In short, I have the honour to be yoked to kind, afford the most vigorous nourishment to the minds of men. I reflected farther a young lady, who is, in plain English, for on the intellectual leaves before mentioned, began to break her mind very freely, both her standing, a very eminent scold. She and found almost as great a variety among to me and to her servants, about two months them as in the vegetable world. I could after our nuptials; and, though I have been easily observe the smooth shining Italian accustomed to this humour of hers these leaves, the nimble French aspen, always in three years, yet I do not know what's the motion, the Greek and Latin ever-greens, matter with me, but I am no more delighted the Spanish myrtle, the English oak, the with it than I was at the very first. I have Scotch thistle, the Irish shambrogue, the advised with her relations about her, and prickly German and Dutch holly, the Po- they all tell me that her mother and her lish and Russian nettle, besides a vast num-grandmother before her were both taken ber of exotics imported from Asia, Africa, much after the same manner; so that, since and America. I saw several barren plants, it runs in the blood, I have but small hopes which bore only leaves, without any hopes of flower or fruit. The leaves of some were fragrant and well-shaped, and others illscented and irregular. I wondered at a set of old whimsical botanists, who spent their whole lives in the contemplation of some withered Egyptian, Coptic, Armenian, or 'Dear Spec, your very humble servant. Chinese leaves; while others made it their business to collect, in voluminous herbals, 'P. S. I must do the poor girl the justice all the several leaves of some one tree. The to let you know, that this match was none flowers afford a most diverting entertain-of her own choosing, (or indeed of mine

of her recovery. I should be glad to have a little of your advice in this matter. I how it may be a pleasure to me; if you will would not willingly trouble you to contrive but put me in a way that I may bear it with indifference, I shall rest satisfied,

either;) in consideration of which I avoid giving her the least provocation; and, indeed, we live better together than usually folks do who hated one another when they were first joined. To evade the sin against parents, or at least to extenuate it, my dear rails at my father and mother, and I curse hers for making the match.'

'August 8, 1712.

'MR. SPECTATOR,-I like the theme you lately gave out extremely, and should be as glad to handle it as any man living: but I find myself no better qualified to write about money than about my wife; for, to tell you a secret, which I desire may go no farther, I am master of neither of those subjects. Yours, PILL GARLICK.'

By the coarse hands of filthy dungeon villains,
And thrown amongst the common lumber.'

Nothing indeed can be more unhappy than the condition of bankruptcy. The calamity which happens to us by ill-fortune, or by the injury of others, has in it some consolation; but what arises from our own misbehaviour, or error, is the state of the most exquisite sorrow. When a man considers not only an ample fortune, but even the very necessaries of life, his pretence to cannot but look upon himself in the state food itself, at the mercy of his creditors, he of the dead, with his case thus much his adversaries instead of his friends. From worse, that the last office is performed by this hour the cruel world does not only take possession of his whole fortune, but MR. SPECTATOR,-I desire you will even of every thing else which had no reprint this in italic, so as it may be gene-lation to it. All his indifferent actions have rally taken notice of. It is designed only to new interpretations put upon them; and admonish all persons, who speak either at those whom he has favoured in his former the bar, pulpit, or any public assembly life, discharge themselves of their obligawhatsoever, how they discover their igno- tions to him, by joining in the reproaches rance in the use of similies. There are, in of his enemies. It is almost incredible that the pulpit itself, as well as in other places, it should be so; but it is too often seen that such gross abuses in this kind, that I give there is a pride mixed with the impatience this warning to all I know. I shall bring of the creditor; and there are who would them for the future before your spectatorial rather recover their own by the downfal authority. On Sunday last, one, who shall of a prosperous man, than be discharged be nameless, reproving several of his con- to the common satisfaction of themselves gregation for standing at prayers, was and their creditors. The wretched man, pleased to say, "One would think, like the who was lately master of abundance, is elephant, you had no knees." Now I my-now under the direction of others; and the self saw an elephant, in Bartholomew fair, kneel down to take on his back the ingenious Mr. William Penkethman. Your most humble servant.' T.

No. 456.] Wednesday, August 13, 1712. De quo libelli in celeberrimis locis proponuntur, huic ne perire quidem tacite conceditur.-Tull.

The man whose conduct is publicly arraigned, is not suffered even to be undone quietly.

wisdom, economy, good sense, and skill in human life before, by reason of his present misfortune, are of no use to him in the disposition of any thing. The incapacity of an infant or a lunatic is designed for his provision and accommodation; but that of a bankrupt, without any mitigation in respect of the accidents by which it arrived, is calculated for his utter ruin, except there be a remainder ample enough, after the discharge of his creditors, to bear also the expense of rewarding those by whose means the effect of all this labour was transferred from him. This man is to look on and see others giving directions upon what terms and conditions his goods are to be purchased; and all this usually done, not with an air of trustees to dispose of his effects, but destroyers to divide and tear

OTWAY, in his tragedy of Venice Preserved, has described the misery of a man whose effects are in the hands of the law, with great spirit. The bitterness of being the scorn and laughter of base minds, the anguish of being insulted by men hardened beyond the sense of shame or pity, and the injury of a man's fortune being wasted, un-them to pieces. der pretence of justice, are excellently aggravated in the following speech of Pierre

to Jaffier:

'I pass'd this very moment by thy doors,
And found them guarded by a troop of villains:
The sons of public rapine were destroying.
They told me by the sentence of the law,
They had commission to seize all thy fortune;
Nay, more, Priuli's cruel hand had sign'd it.
Here stood a ruffian with a horrid face,
Lording it o'er a pile of massy plate,
Tumbled into a heap for public sale.
There was another making villanous jests
At thy undoing. He had ta'en possession
Of all thy ancient most domestic ornaments,
Rich hangings intermix'd and wrought with gold;
The very bed, which on thy wedding-night
Receiv'd thee to the arms of Belvidera.
The scene of all thy joys, was violated

There is something sacred in misery to great and good minds; for this reason all wise lawgivers have been extremely tender how they let loose even the man who has right on his side, to act with any mixture of resentment against the defendant. Virtuous and modest men, though they be used with some artifice, and have it in their power to avenge themselves, are slow in the application of that power, and are ever constrained to go into rigorous measures. They are careful to demonstrate themselves not only persons injured, but also that to bear it longer would be a means to make the offender injure others,

before they proceed. Such men clap their hands upon their hearts, and consider what it is to have at their mercy the life of a citizen. Such would have it to say to their own souls, if possible, that they were merciful when they could have destroyed, rather than when it was in their power to have spared a man, they destroyed. This is a due to the common calamity of human life, due in some measure to our very enemies. They who scruple in doing the least injury are cautious of exacting the utmost justice. Let any one who is conversant in the variety of human life reflect upon it, and he will find the man who wants mercy has a taste of no enjoyment of any kind. There is a natural disrelish of every thing which is good in his very nature, and he is born an enemy to the world. He is ever extremely partial to himself in all his actions, and has no sense of iniquity but from the punishment which shall attend it. The law of the land is his gospel, and all his cases of conscience are determined by his attorney. Such men know not what it is to gladden the heart of a miserable man; that riches are the instruments of serving the purposes of heaven or hell, according to the disposition of the possessor. The wealthy can torment or gratify all who are in their power, and choose to do one or other, as they are affected with love or hatred to mankind. As for such who are insensible of the concerns of others, but merely as they affect themselves, these men are to be valued only for their mortality, and as we hope better things from their heirs. I could not but read with great delight, a letter from an eminent citizen, who has failed, to one who was intimate with him in his better fortune, and able by his No. 457.] Thursday, August 14, 1712. countenance to retrieve his lost condition.

rest of the world will regard me for yours. There is a happy contagion in riches, as well as a destructive one in poverty: the rich can make rich without parting with any of their store; and the conversation of the poor makes men poor, though they borrow nothing of them. How this is to be accounted for I know not; but men's estimation follows us according to the company we keep. If you are what you were to me, you can go a great way towards my recovery; if you are not, my good fortune, if ever it returns, will return by slower approaches. I am, sir, your affectionate friend, and humble servant.'

This was answered by a condescension that did not, by long impertinent professions of kindness, insult his distress, but was as follows:

SIR,-It is in vain to multiply words and make apologies for what is never to be defended by the best advocate in the world, the guilt of being unfortunate. All that a man in my condition can do or say, will be received with prejudice by the generality of mankind, but I hope not with you: you have been a great instrument in helping me to get what I have lost; and I know (for that reason, as well as kindness to me) you cannot but be in pain to see me undone. To show you I am not a man incapable of bearing calamity, I will, though a poor man, lay aside the distinction between us, and talk with the frankness we did when

we were nearer to an equality: as all I do will be received with prejudice, all you do will be looked upon with partiality. What 1 desire of you is, that you, who are courted by all, would smile upon me, who am shunned by all. Let that grace and favour

which your fortune throws upon you, be turned to make up the coldness and indif

'DEAR TOM,-I am very glad to hear that you have heart enough to begin the world a second time. I assure you, I do not think your numerous family at all diminished (in the gifts of nature, for which I have ever so much admired them,) by what has so lately happened to you. I shall not only countenance your affairs with my appearance for you, but shall accommodate you with a considerable sum at common interest for three years. You know I could make more of it; but I have so great a love for you, that I can waive opportunities of gain to help you; for I do not care whether they say of me after I am dead, that I had a hundred or fifty thousand pounds more than I wanted when I was living. Your obliged humble servant.'

T.

-Multa et præclara minantis.

Hor. Sat. iii. Lib. 2. 9. Seeming to promise something wondrous great.

I SHALL this day lay before my readers a letter, written by the same hand with that of last Friday, which contained proposals for a printed newspaper that should take in the whole circle of the penny-post.

'SIR, The kind reception you gave my last Friday's letter, in which I broached to lay before you two or three more; for, my project of a newspaper, encourages me you must know, sir, that we look upon you to be the Lowndes* of the learned world, and cannot think any scheme practicable or rational before you have approved of it, though all the money we raise by it is in our own funds, and for our private use.

'I have often thought that a news-letter of whispers, written every post, and sent about the kingdom, after the same manner as that of Mr. Dyer, Mr. Dawkes, or any other epistolary historian, might be highly gratifying to the public, as well as bene

ference that is used towards me. All
good and generous men will have an eye of
kindness for me for my own sake, and the of the mint.

*Secretary at this time of the treasury, and director

« PředchozíPokračovat »