less in their natures, abandoned to any vice or dishonour, or such as without a call thrust themselves upon men in power; nor when we say patrons, do we mean such as have it not in their power, or have no obligation, to assist their friends; but we speak of such leagues where there are power and obligation on the one part, and merit and expectation on the other. Were we to be very particular on this subject, I take it that the division of patron and client may include a third part of our nation. The want of merit and real worth will strike out about ninety-nine in the hundred of these, and want of ability in the patron will dispose of as many of that order. He who out of mere vanity to be applied to will take up another's time and fortune in his service, where he has no prospect of returning it, is as much more unjust as those who took up my friend the upholder's goods without paying him for them. I say, he is as much more unjust as our life and time is more valuable than our goods and movables. Among many whom you see about the great, there is a contented, well-pleased set, who seem to like the attendance for its own sake, and are early at the abodes of the powerful, out of mere fashion. This sort of vanity is as well grounded as if a man should lay aside his own plain suit, and dress himself up in a gay livery of another's.

There are many of this species who exclude others of just expectation, and make those proper dependants appear impatient, because they are not so cheerful as those who expect nothing. I have made use of the penny post for the instruction of these voluntary slaves, and informed them, that they will never be provided for; but they double their diligence upon admonition. Will Afterday has told his friends, that he was to have the

1 See No. 180.

next thing these ten years; and Harry Linger has been fourteen within a month of a considerable office. However the fantastic complaisance which is paid to them may blind the great from seeing themselves in a just light, they must needs (if they in the least reflect) at some times have a sense of the injustice they do in raising in others a false expectation. But this is so common a practice in all the stages of power, that there are not more cripples come out of the wars than from the attendance of patrons. You see in one a settled melancholy, in another a bridled rage, a third has lost his memory, and a fourth his whole constitution and humour. In a word, when you see a particular cast of mind or body, which looks a little upon the distracted, you may be sure the poor gentleman has formerly had great friends. For this reason, I have thought it a prudent thing to take a nephew of mine out of a lady's service, where he was a page, and have bound him to a shoemaker.

But what of all the humours under the sun is the most pleasant to consider, is, that you see some men lay as it were a set of acquaintance by them, to converse with when they are out of employment, who had no effect of their power when they were in. Here patrons and clients both make the most fantastical figure imaginable. Friendship indeed is most manifested in adversity; but I do not know how to behave myself to a man who thinks me his friend at no other time but that. Dick Reptile of our club had this in his head the other night, when he said, "I am afraid of ill news when I am visited by any of my old friends." These patrons are a little like some fine gentlemen, who spend all their hours of gaiety with their wenches, but when they fall sick, will let no one come near them but their wives. It seems, truth and

honour are companions too sober for prosperity. It is certainly the most black ingratitude to accept of a man's best endeavours to be pleasing to you, and return it with indifference.

I am so much of this mind, that Dick Estcourt1 the comedian, for coming one night to our club, though he laughed at us all the time he was there, shall have our company at his play on Thursday. A man of talents is to be favoured, or never admitted. Let the ordinary world truck for money and wares, but men of spirit and conversation should in every kind do others as much pleasure as they receive from them. But men are so taken up with outward forms, that they do not consider their actions; else how should it be, that a man shall deny that to the entreaties and almost tears of an old friend, which he shall solicit a new one to accept of? I remember, when I first came out of Staffordshire, I had an intimacy with a man of quality, in whose gift there fell a very good employment. All the town cried, "There's a thing for Mr. Bickerstaff!" when, to my great astonishment, I found my patron had been forced upon twenty artifices to surprise a man with it who never thought of it. But sure it is a degree of murder to amuse men with vain hopes. If a man takes away another's life, where is the difference, whether he does it by taking away the minutes of his time, or the drops of his blood? But indeed, such as have hearts barren of kindness are served accordingly by those whom they employ, and pass their lives away with an empty show of civility for love, and an insipid intercourse of a commerce in which their affections are no way concerned. But on the other side, how beautiful is the life of a patron who performs his duty to his inferiors? a worthy merchant 1 See Nos. 51 and 130.

who employs a crowd of artificers? a great lord who is generous and merciful to the several necessities of his tenants? a courtier who uses his credit and power for the welfare of his friends? These have in their several stations a quick relish of the exquisite pleasure of doing good. In a word, good patrons are like the guardian angels of Plato, who are ever busy, though unseen, in the care of their wards; but ill patrons are like the deities of Epicurus, supine, indolent, and unconcerned, though they see mortals in storms and tempests even while they are offering incense to their power.

No. 197.

[STEELE.

From Tuesday, July 11, to Thursday, July 13, 1710.

Semper ego auditor tantum ?—Juv., Sat. i. 1.

Grecian Coffee-house, July 12.

When I came hither this evening, the man of the

house delivered me a book very finely bound. When I received it, I overheard one of the boys whisper another, and say, “It was a fine thing to be a great scholar! What a pretty book that is! It has indeed

a very gay outside, and is dedicated to me by a very ingenious gentleman, who does not put his name to it. The title of it (for the work is in Latin) is, "Epistolarum Obscurorum Virorum, ad Dm. M. Ortuinum Gratium, Volumina II. &c."1 ("The Epistles of the

1 Steele was apparently unaware that the letters in this famous book were a satire, directed against the clergy of the Catholic Church. The letters, written by Ulrich von Hutten and his friends, purported to be from certain monks and theologians to Ortuinus Gratius, doctor of theology. They were intended to ridicule the bad Latin of the

Obscure Writers to Ortuinus, &c."). The purpose of the work is signified in the dedication, in very elegant language, and fine raillery. It seems this is a collection of letters which some profound blockheads, who lived before our times, have written in honour of each other, and for their mutual information in each other's absurdities. They are mostly of the German nation, whence from time to time inundations of writers have flowed, more pernicious to the learned world than the swarms of Goths and Vandals to the politic. It is, methinks, wonderful, that fellows could be awake, and utter such incoherent conceptions, and converse with great gravity like learned men, without the least taste of knowledge or good sense. It would have been an endless labour to have taken any other method of exposing such impertinences, than by an edition of their own works, where you see their follies, according to the ambition of such virtuosi, in a most correct edition.

Looking over these accomplished labours, I could not but reflect upon the immense load of writings which the commonalty of scholars have pushed into the world, and the absurdity of parents, who educate crowds to spend their time in pursuit of such cold and sprightless endeavours to appear in public. It seems therefore a fruitless labour to attempt the correction of the taste of our contemporaries, except it was in our power to burn all the senseless labours of our ancestors. There is a secret propensity in nature from generation to generation in the blockheads of one age to admire those of

clergy, and in every way to satirise the anti-reform party. (See Bayle's "Dictionary," Arts. Hochstrat and Hutten; and Retrospective Review, v. 56.) The elegant edition of this book published in London in 1710, in 12mo, was dedicated to Steele by the editor, Maittaire.