FOOTNOTES:
[162] See No. 224.
[163] See No. 109.
[164] A small basin. Bacon speaks of utensils which will endure fire, such as "chafing-dishes, posnets, and such other silver dishes."
[165] The cloths and gloves were to soften the skin; the Spanish wool and Portugal dishes for "complexions"; the plumpers for the cheeks. The black-lead combs were for darkening the hair. By ivory and box teeth, tooth-combs are probably intended (Dobson). Perhaps, however, the "teeth" are artificial teeth.
[166] Cf. Steele's "The Tender Husband," act iii. sc. I: "Prithee, wench, bring me my black eyebrows out of the next room." Prior often refers to this subject-thus:
"The slattern had left in the hurry and haste
Her lady's complexion and eyebrows at Calais;"
and when the kitten had stolen Helen's eyebrows, a trap was at once baited:
"If we don't catch a mouse to-night,
Alas! no eyebrows for to-morrow!"
[167] Turquoise.
[168] The two shields on Oliver Cromwell's coins were vulgarly called "breeches," because they somewhat resembled vast trunk-hose.
[169] See No. 240.
[170] Lanterloo, lantrillou, or lanctreloo, a game at cards in which the knave of clubs is the highest card. Cf. lanturloo (Fr.), nonsense. The game is mentioned, says Strutt, in the "Complete Gamester" (1734). In a letter in the Spectator, No. 245, we find the following: "I would have these sports and pastimes not only merry, but innocent, for which reason I have not mentioned either whisk or lanterloo, nor indeed so much as one-and-thirty."
[171] Cachou, for sweetening the breath.
[172] A spiced custard pudding formerly a favourite dish in Devonshire. See Spectator, No. 109, and Gay's "Shepherd's Week" (Monday):
"White-pot thick is my Buxoma's fare."
[173] A cosmetic.
[174] On the black marble bust of the favourite slave of William III., at Hampton Court, there is a white marble collar, with a padlock. Contemporary advertisements show that negro servants often wore a collar bearing the name of their master. In No. 132 of the original issue of the Tatler there was this advertisement: "A black Indian boy, twelve years of age, fit to wait on a gentleman, to be disposed of at Denis's Coffee-house, in Finch Lane, near the Royal Exchange." The reward offered for the recovery of a runaway black servant rarely exceeded a guinea.
[No. 246. [Steele.]
From Thursday, Nov. 2, to Saturday, Nov. 4, 1710.
----Vitiis nemo sine nascitur, optimus ille est
Qui minimis urgetur.——
Hor., 1 Sat. iii. 68.
From my own Apartment, Nov. 3.
When one considers the turn which conversation takes in almost every set of acquaintance, club or assembly, in this town or kingdom, one cannot but observe, that in spite of what I am every day saying, and all the moral writers since the beginning of the world have said, the subject of discourse is generally upon one another's faults. This in a great measure proceeds from self-conceit, which were to be endured in one or other individual person; but the folly has spread itself almost over all the species; and one cannot only say, Tom, Jack, or Will, but in general, that man is a coxcomb. From this source it is that any excellence is faintly received, any imperfection unmercifully exposed. But if things were put in a true light, and we would take time to consider that man in his very nature is an imperfect being, our sense of this matter would be immediately altered, and the word "imperfection" would not carry an unkinder idea than the word "humanity." It is a pleasant story, that we, forsooth, who are the only imperfect creatures in the universe, are the only beings that will not allow of imperfection. Somebody has taken notice, that we stand in the middle of existences, and are by this one circumstance the most unhappy of all others. The brutes are guided by instinct, and know no sorrow; the angels have knowledge, and they are happy; but men are governed by opinion, which is I know not what mixture of instinct and knowledge, and are neither indolent nor happy. It is very observable, that critics are a people between the learned and the ignorant, and by that situation enjoy the tranquillity of neither. As critics stand among men, so do men in general between brutes and angels. Thus every man as he is a critic and a coxcomb, till improved by reason and speculation, is ever forgetting himself, and laying open the faults of others.
At the same time that I am talking of the cruelty of urging people's faults with severity, I cannot but bewail some which men are guilty of for want of admonition. These are such as they can easily mend, and nobody tells them of; for which reason I shall make use of the penny-post (as I have with success to several young ladies about turning their eyes, and holding up their heads) to certain gentlemen whom I remark habitually guilty of what they may reform in a moment. There is a fat fellow whom I have long remarked wearing his breast open in the midst of winter, out of an affectation of youth. I have therefore sent him just now the following letter in my physical capacity:
"Sir,
"From the twentieth instant to the first of May next, both days inclusive, I beg of you to button your waistcoat from your collar to your waistband. I am,
"Your most humble Servant,
"Isaac Bickerstaff, Philomath."[175]
There is a very handsome well-shaped youth that frequents the coffee-houses about Charing Cross, and ties a very pretty ribbon with a cross of jewels at his breast.[176] This being something new, and a thing in which the gentleman may offend the Heralds' Office, I have addressed myself to him as I am censor:
"Dear Countryman,
"Was that ensign of honour which you wear, given you by a prince or a lady that you have served? If you bear it as an absent lover, please to hang it on a black ribbon; if as a rewarded soldier, you may have my licence to continue the red.
"Your faithful Servant,
"Bickerstaff, Censor."
These little intimations do great service, and are very useful, not only to the persons themselves, but to inform others how to conduct themselves towards them.
Instead of this honest private method, or a friendly one face to face, of acquainting people with things in their power to explain or amend, the usual way among people is to take no notice of things you can help, and nevertheless expose you for those you cannot.
Plumbeus and Levis are constantly in each other's company: they would, if they took proper methods, be very agreeable companions; but they so extravagantly aim at what they are unfit for, and each of them rallies the other so much in the wrong place, that instead of doing each other the offices of friends, they do but instruct the rest of the world to laugh at them with more knowledge and skill. Plumbeus is of a saturnine and sullen complexion; Levis, of a mercurial and airy disposition. Both these gentlemen have but very slow parts, but would make a very good figure, did they pursue what they ought. If Plumbeus would take to business, he would in a few years know the forms of orders so well, as to direct and dictate with so much ease, as to be thought a solid, able, and at the same time a sure man of despatch. Levis, with a little reading and coming more into company, would soon be able to write a song, or lead up a country-dance. Instead of these proper pursuits, in obedience to their respective geniuses, Plumbeus endeavours to be the man of pleasure, and Levis the man of business. This appears in their speech, and in their dress: Plumbeus is ever egregiously fine, and talking something like wit; Levis is ever extremely grave, and with a silly face repeating maxims. These two pardon each other for affecting what each is incapable of, the one to be wise, and the other gay; but are extremely critical in their judgments of each other in their way towards what they pretend to. Plumbeus acknowledges Levis a man of a great reach, because it is what Plumbeus never cared for being thought himself; and Levis allows Plumbeus to be an agreeable rake for the same reason. Now were these dear friends to be free with each other as they ought to be, they would change characters, and be both as commendable, instead of being as ridiculous, as their capacities will admit of.
Were it not too grave, all that I would urge on this subject is, that men are bewildered when they consider themselves in any other view than that of strangers, who are in a place where it is no great matter whether they can, or unreasonable to expect they should, have everything about them as well as at their own home. This way of thinking is, perhaps, the only one that can put this being into a proper posture for the ease of society. It is certain, this would reduce all faults into those which proceed from malice or dishonesty: it would quite change our manner of beholding one another, and nothing that was not below a man's nature would be below his character. The arts of this life would be proper advances towards the next; and a very good man would be a very fine gentleman. As it now is, human life is inverted, and we have not learned half the knowledge of this world before we are dropping into another. Thus, instead of the raptures and contemplations which naturally attend a well-spent life from the approach of eternity, even we old fellows are afraid of the ridicule of those who are born since us, and ashamed not to understand, as well as peevish to resign, the mode, the fashion, the ladies, the fiddles, the balls, and what not. Dick Reptile, who does not want humour, is very pleasant at our club when he sees an old fellow touchy at being laughed at for anything that is not in the mode, and bawls in his ear, "Prithee don't mind him; tell him thou art mortal."