With all this fire I knew my cousin to be the civilest creature in the world. He never made any impertinent show of his valour, and then he had an excellent genius for the world in every other kind. I had letters from him (here I felt in my pockets) that exactly spoke the Czar's character, which I knew perfectly well; and I could not forbear concluding, that I lay with his Imperial Majesty twice or thrice a week all the while he lodged at Deptford. What is worse than all this, it is impossible to speak to me, but you give me some occasion of coming out with one lie or other, that has neither wit, humour, prospect of interest, or any other motive that I can think of in nature. The other day, when one was commending an eminent and learned divine, what occasion in the world had I to say, "Methinks he would look more venerable if he were not so fair a man"? I remember the company smiled. I have seen the gentleman since, and he is coal-black. I have intimations every day in my life that nobody believes me, yet I am never the better. I was saying something the other day to an old friend at Will's Coffee-House, and he made me no manner of answer; but told me, that an acquaintance of Tully the orator having two or three times together said to him, without receiving any answer, that upon his honour he was but that very month forty years of age; Tully answered, "Surely you think me the most incredulous man in the world, if I don't believe what you have told me every day this ten years." The mischief of it is, I find myself wonderfully inclined to have been present at every 1 Exactly' (folio).

2 In 1698, when the Tsar hired John Evelyn's house at Sayes Court.

occurrence that is spoken of before me. This has led me into many inconveniences, but, indeed, they have been the fewer because I am no ill-natured man, and never speak things to any man's disadvantage. I never directly defame, but I do what is as bad in the consequence, for I have often made a man say such and such a lively expression, who was born a mere elder brother. When one has said in my hearing, "Such a one is no wiser than he should be," I immediately have replied, "Now, 'faith, I can't see that; he said a very good thing to my Lord such a one upon such an occasion," and the like. Such an honest dolt as this has been watched in every expression he uttered upon my recommendation of him, and consequently been subject to the more ridicule. I once endeavoured to cure myself of this impertinent quality, and resolved to hold my tongue for seven days together. I did so, but then I had so many winks and unnecessary distortions of my face upon what anybody else said, that I found I only forebore the expression, and that I still lied in my heart to every man I met with. You are to know one thing (which, I believe, you'll say is a pity, considering the use I should have made of it): I never travelled in my life; but I do not know whether I could have spoken of any foreign country with more familiarity than I do at present in company who are strangers to me. I have cursed the inns in Germany; commended the brothels at Venice; the freedom of conversation in France; and though I never was out of this dear town, and fifty miles about it, have been three nights together dogged by bravoes for an intrigue with a cardinal's mistress at Rome.

'It were endless to give you particulars of this kind,

but I can assure you, Mr. Spectator, there are about twenty or thirty of us in this town (I mean by this town the cities of London and Westminster), I say there are in town a sufficient number of us to make a society among ourselves; and since we cannot be believed any longer, I beg of you to print this, my letter, that we may meet together, and be under such regulation as there may be no occasion for belief or confidence among us. If you think fit we might be called "The Historians," for "liar " is become a very harsh word. And that a member of the society may not hereafter be ill received by the rest of the world, I desire you would explain a little this sort of men, and not let us historians be rankedas we are in the imaginations of ordinary peopleamong common liars, makebates,' impostors, and incendiaries. For your instruction herein, you are to know that an historian, in conversation, is only a person of so pregnant a fancy that he cannot be contented with ordinary occurrences. I know a man of quality of our order who is of the wrong side of forty-three, and has been of that age, according to Tully's jest, for some years since, whose vein is upon the romantic. Give him the least occasion and he will tell you something so very particular that happened in such a year, and in such company, where, by-the-bye, was present such a one, who was afterwards made such a thing. Out of all these circumstances, in the best language in the world, he will join together with such probable incidents an account that shows a person of the deepest penetration, the honestest mind, and, withal, something

1 Breeders of quarrels. Swift says: "Outrageous party-writers are like a couple of makebates, who inflame small quarrels by a thousand stories."

so humble when he speaks of himself, that you would admire. Dear sir, why should this be lying? There is nothing so instructive. He has, withal, the gravest aspect: something so very venerable and great. Another of these historians is a young man whom we would take in, though he extremely wants parts, as people send children (before they can learn. anything) to school to keep them out of harm's way. He tells things which have nothing at all in them, and can neither please nor displease, but merely take up your time to no manner of purpose, no manner of delight. But he is good-natured, and does it because he loves to be saying something to you, and entertain you.

'I could name you a soldier that has done very great things without slaughter; he is prodigiously dull and slow of head, but what he can say is for ever false, so that we must have him.

'Give me leave to tell you of one more, who is a lover; he is the most afflicted creature in the world lest what happened between him and a great beauty should ever be known. Yet again, he comforts himself. "Hang the jade her woman. If money can keep [the] slut trusty I will do it, though I mortgage every acre; Anthony and Cleopatra' for that: All for love, and the world well lost." "1

1

'Then, sir, there is my little merchant, honest Indigo of the 'Change, there's my man for loss and gain, there's tare and tret, there's lying all round the globe; he has such a prodigious intelligence he knows all the French are doing, and what we intend or ought to intend, and has it from such hands. But alas, whither am I running? While I complain,

1 These are the titles of Dryden's adaptation of Shakespeare's play.

while I remonstrate to you, even all this is a lie, and there is not one such person of quality, lover, soldier, or merchant, as I have now described in the whole world that I know of. But I will catch myself once in my life, and in spite of nature, speak one truth, to wit that I am

T.

No. 137.

Your humble Servant, &c.'

Tuesday, August 7, 1711

[STEELE.

At hæc etiam servis semper libera fuerunt, timerent, gauderent, dolerent, suo potius quam alterius arbitrio.— TULL., Epist.

T is no small concern to me, that I find so many complaints from that part of mankind whose portion it is to live in servitude, that those whom they depend upon will not allow them to be even as happy as their condition will admit of. There are, as these unhappy correspondents inform me, masters who are offended at a cheerful countenance, and think a servant has broke loose from them, if he does not preserve the utmost awe in their presence. There is one who says, if he looks. satisfied his master asks him what makes him so pert this morning; if a little sour, 'Hark ye, sirrah, are not you paid your wages?' The poor creatures live in the most extreme misery together: the master knows not how to preserve respect, nor the servant how to give it. It seems this person is of so sullen a nature, that he knows but little satisfaction in the midst of a plentiful fortune, and secretly frets to see any appearance of content in one that lives upon the hundredth part of his income, who is unhappy in