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TO
Mr. M ETH UEN
?~"3 0 ~36
5r
/?
a, SIR,
LIT is with very great Pleasure I take an Opportunity
of publishing the Gratitude I owe You, for the
Place You allow me in your Friendship and Familiarity.
I will not acknowledge to You that I have often had
You in my Thoughts, when I have endeavoured to
Draw, in some Parts of these Discourses, the Character
of a Good/natured, Honest and Accomplished Gentleman,
But such Representations give my Reader an Idea of
a Person blameless only, or only laudable for such
Perfections as extend no farther than to his own private
Advantage and Reputation,
But when I speak of You, I Celebrate One who has
had the Happiness of possessing also those Qualifies
which make a Man useful to Society, and of having
had Opportunities of Exerting them in the most com
spicuous Manner. ‘
The Great Part You had, as British Embassador, in
.Procuring and Cultivating the Advantageous Commerce
between the Courts of England and Portugal, has
purchased You the lasting Esteem of all who understand
the Interest of either Nation.
Those Personal Excellencies which are over/rated by
the ordinary World, and too much neglected by Wise
Men, You have applied with the iustest Skill and
Judgment, The most graceful Address in Horseman»
ship, in the Use of the Sword, and in Dancing, has '
been employed by You as lower Arts, and as they
have occasionally served to cover, or introduce the
Talents of a skilful Minister,
But your Abilities have not appeared only in one
Nation. When it was your Province to Act as Her
Majesty’s Minister at the Court of Savoy, at that time
encamped, You accompanied that Gallant Prince thro'
all the Vicissitudes of His Fortune, and shared, by , IV. A i e
§§%?8§
2 THE SPECTATOR
Side, the Dangers of that Glorious Day in which He,
recovered His Capital. As far as it regards Personal!
Qualities, You attained, in that one Hour, the highest;
Military Reputation. _ The Behaviour of our Minister the Action, and the Good Offices done the Vanquisheé;
- in the Name of the Queen of England, gave both the
Conqueror and the Captive the most lively Examples of
the Courage and Generosity of the Nation He represented,
Your Friends and Companions in your Absenctf-
frequently talk these Things of You, and You came;
hide from us, (by the most discreet Silence in any)
Thing which regards your self) that the frank Entera
tainment we have at your Table, your easie Condescem
sion in little Incidents of Mirth and Diversion, and:
general Complacency, of Manners, are far from being,
the greatest Obligations we have to You. I do assure"
You 'there is not one of your Friends has a Greater
Sense of your Merit in general, and of the Favours;
You every Day do us, than, .

SIR,
Your most Obedient, and _
most Humble Servant, :' ‘
RICHARD STEELE:
THE
SPECTATOR.


V O L. V I I.
No. 474, -
[STEELE] Wednesday, September 3, 1712. No, 474,
Asperitas agresu's 8 inconcifinna.-—Hor. giggle“
‘ Se t. 3,
Mr, SPECTATOR, 71%, _
1
EING of the Number of those that have lately retired
from the Center of Business and Pleasure, my Una
easiness in the Country where I am, arises rather from
the Society than the Solitude of it, To be obliged to re!
ceive and return Visits from and to a Circle of Neighbours,
who through Diversity of Age or Inclinations, can neither
be entertaining or serviceable to us, is a vile Loss of Time,
and a Slavery from which a Man should deliver himself, if
possible: For why must I lose the remaining Part of my
Life, because they have thrown away the former Part of
theirs? It is to me an unsupportable Affliction, to be
tormented with the Narrations of a Set of People, who
are warm in their Expressions, of the quick Relish of that
Pleasure which their Dogs and Horses have a more
delicate Taste of, I do also in my Heart detest and
abhor that damnable Doctrine and Position of the Neces/
sity of a Bumper, though to one's own Toast; for though
'tis pretended that these deep Politicians are used only
to inspire Gaiety, they certainly drown that Chearfulness
which would survive a moderate Circulation. If at these
Meetings it were left to every Stranger either to fill his
Glass according to his own Inclination, or to make his
Retreat when he finds he has been sufficiently obedient
to that of others, these Entertainments would be governed
with more good Sense, and consequently with more
good Breeding, than at presaent they are. Indeed where
“Y
4 THE SPECTATOR
o. 474. any of the Guests are known to measure their Fame
861168" or Pleasure by their Glass, proper Exhortations might
be used to these to push their Fortunes in this Sort
of Reputation; but where 'tis unseasonably insisted on
to a modest Stranger, this Drench may be said to be
swallowed with the same Necessity, as if it had been
tendered in the Horn for that Purpose, with this
aggravating Circumstance, that it distresses the Enter»
tainer's Guest in the same Degree as it relieves his
Horses.
To attend without Impatience an Account of five/barr'd
Gates, double Ditches and Precipices, and to survey the
Orator with desiring Eyes, is to me extremely difficult,
but absolutely necessary, .to be upon tolerable Terms with
him: But then the occasional Burstings out into Laughter,
is of all other Accomplishments the most requisite. I
confess at present I have not the Command of these
Convulsions, as is necessary to be good Company;
therefore I beg you would publish this Letter, and let
me be known all at once for a queer Fellow, . and
avoided. It is monstrous to me, that we, who are
given to Reading and - calm Conversation, should ever
be visited by these Roarers: But they think they
themselves, as Neighbours, may come into our Rooms
with the same Right that they and their Dogs hunt in
our Grounds.
Your Institution of Clubs I have always admir'd, in
which you constanth endeavoured the Union of the meta;
phorically Defunct, at is, such as are neither serviceable
to the busy and enterprizing Part of Mankind, nor enter/
taining 'to the Retir'd and Speculative. There should
certainly therefore in each County he established a Club
of the Persons whose Conversations I have described, who
for their own private, as also the publick Emolument,
should exclude, and be excluded all other Society. Their
Attire should be the same with their Huntsmen's, and
none should be admitted into this green Conversation;
Piece, except he had broke his Collar/bone thrice. A
broken Rib or two might also admit a Man without the
least Opposition. The President must necessarily have
broken his Neck, and have been taken up dead once
01‘
THE SPECTATOR 5
or twice: For the more Maims this Brotherhood shall No. 474.
have met with, the easier will their Conversation flow Wednes-
and keep up; and when any one of these vigorous 327'; 3
Invalids had finished his Narration of the Collar/bone,17 2: '
this naturally would introduce the History of the Ribs.
Besides, the different Circumstances of their Falls and
Fractures would help to prolong and diversify their
Relations. There should also be another Club of such
Men, who have not succeeded so well in maiming
themselves, but are however in the constant Pursuit of
these Accomplishments. I would by no Means be
suspected by what I have said to traduce in general the
Body of Fox/hunters; for whilst I look upon a reason/
able Creature full Speed after a Pack of Dogs, by
Way of Pleasure, and not of Business,I shall always
make honourable Mention of it.
But the most irksome Conversation of all others I have
met with in the Neighbourhood, has been among two
or three of your Travellers, who have overlooked Men
and Manners, and have passed thro' France and Italy
with the same Observation that the Carriers and Stage!
Coachmen do through Great/Britain; that is, their Stops
and Stages have been regulated according to the Liquor
they have met with in their Passage. They indeed
remember the Names of Abundance of Places, with the
particular Fineries of certain Churches: But their dis-
tinguishing Mark is certain Prettinesses of foreign
Languages, the Meaning of which they could have better
express’d in their own. The Entertainment of these fine
Observers Shakespear has described to consist
In talking of the Alps and Apennines,
The Pyrenaen, and the River Po.
And then concludes with a Sigh,
Now this is worshipful Society.
I would not be thought in all this to hate such honest
Creatures as Dogs; I am only unhappy that I cannot
artake in their Diversions. But I love them so well, as
ogs, that I often go with my Pockets stuffed with Bread
to dispense my Favours, or make my Way through them
at
6 THE SPECTATOR
o. 474. ' at Neighbours' Houses. There is in particular a young
“111W Hound of great Expectation, Vivacity, and Enterprize,
Y ,
PI! 3|
12'
.».~\H‘
that attends my Flights where/ever he spies me. This
Creature observes my Countenance, and behaves himself
accordingly. His Mirth, his Frolick, and Joy upon the
Sight of me has been observed, and I have been gravely
desired not to encourage him so much, for it spoils his
Parts; but I think he shews them sufficiently in the
several Boundings, Friskings, and Scourings, when he
makes his Court to me: But I foresee in a little time
he and I must keep Company with one another only, for
we are fit for no other in these Parts. Having inform’d
you howI do pass my Time in the Country where I am,
I must proceed to tell you how I would pass it, had I such
a Fortune as would put me above the Observance of
Ceremony and Custom.
My Scheme of a Country Life then should be as
follows. 3151 am happy in three or four very agreeable
Friends, these] would constantly have with me; and the
Freedom we took with one another at School and the
University, we would maintain and exert upon all Occa/
sions with great Courage. There should be certain Hours
of the Day to be employ'd in Reading, during which Time
it should be impossible for any one of us to enter the
other’s Chamber, unless by Storm. After this we would
communicate the Trash or Treasure we had met with,
with our own Reflections upon the Matter; the Iustness
of which we would controvert with good humour'd
Warmth, and never spare one another out of that com»
plaisant Spirit of Conversation, which makes others affirm
and deny the same Matter in a Quarter of an Hour. If
any of the neighbouring Gentlemen, not of our Turn,
should take it in their Heads to visit me, I should look
upon these Persons in the same Degree Enemies to my
particular State of Happiness, as ever the French were to
that of the Publick, and I would be at an annual Expence
in Spies to observe their Motions. Whenever I should
be surprized with a Visit, as I hate Drinking, I would
be brisk in swilling Bumpers, upon this Maxim, That it
is better to trouble others with my Impertinence, than
to be troubled my self with theirs. The Necessity of an
. Infirmary
THE SPECTATOR 7
Infirmary makes me resolved to fall into that Project; and No, 474.
as we should, be but Five, the Terrors of an involuntary Wednes'
Separation, which our Number cannot so well admit of, Sgylt 3
would make us exert our selves, in Opposition to all the 171%, ’
Particulars mentioned in your Institution of that equitable
Confinement This my Way of Life I know would sub/
ject me to the Im utation of a morose, covetous, and
singular Fellow. hese and all other hard Words, with
all Manner of insipid Iests, and all other Reproach, would
be Matter of Mirth to me and my Friends: Besides, I
would destroy the Application of the Epithets Morose and
Covetous, by a yearly Relief of my undeservedly neces/
sitous Neighbours, and by treating my Friends and
Domesticks with an Humanity that should express the
Obligation to lie rather on my Side; and as for the Word
Singular, I was always of Opinion every Man must be
so, to be what one would desire him.
Your very humble Servant,
I». R.’
‘Mr, SPECTATOR,
About two Years ago I was called upon by the younger
Part of a Country Family, by my Mother’s Side related to
me, to visit Mr, Campbell, the dumb Man; for they told
me that That was chiefly what brought them to Town,
having heard Wonders of him in Essex. I, who always
wanted Faith in Matters of that Kind, was not easily prev
vailed on to go; but lest they should take it ill, I went
with them; when, to my Surprize, Mr. Campbell related
all their past Life,‘ (in short, had he not been prevented,
such a Discovery would have come out, as would have
ruined the next Design of their coming to Town, viz.
buying Weddingw Cloaths). Our Names ——though he
never heard of us before——and we endeavoured to con»
ceal—were as familiar to him as to our selves. To be
sure Mr. SPECTATOR, he is a very learned and wise Man.
Being impatient to know my Fortune, having paid my
Respects in a family ]acobus, he told me (after his
Manner) among several other Things, that in a Year
and nine Months I should fall ill of a new Fever, be
given over by my Physicians, but should with much.
Difficulty
8 THE SPECTATOR
0.474. Difficulty recover: That the first Time I took the Air
ednes' afterwards, I should be address’d to by a young Gentle/
Y! -
pt. '3.
!
Spirit.
~ Occasion.
man of a plentiful Fortune, good Sense, and a generous
Mr. SPECTATOR, he is the purest Man in the World,
for all he said is come to pass, and I am the happiest She
in Kent. I have been in Quest of Mr. Campbell these
three Months, and cannot find him out. Now hearing
you are a dumb Man too, I tho ht you might corre/
spond, and be able to tell me some 'ng; for I think my
self highly oblig’d to make his Fortune as he has mine.
'Tis very possible your Worship, who has Spies all over
this Town, can inform me how to send to him: If you
can, I beseech you be as speedy as possible, and you
will highly oblige
Your constant Reader and Admirer,
Dulcibella Thankley.’
Ordered, That the Inspector I employ about Wonders,
enquire at the Golden/Lion, opposite to the Half/Moon
Tavern in Drury/Lane, into the Merit of this silent Sage,
and report accordingly. T
No. 475.
[ADDISON]
———Quae res in se neque consili'um neque modum
Habet ullum, eam consilio regere non potesr—Ter.
T is an old Observation, which has been made of
Politicians who would rather ingratiate themselves
with their Sovereign, than promote his real Service,
That they accommodate their Counsels to his Inclinations,
and advise him to such Actions only as his Heart is
naturally set upon. The Privyucouncellor of one in
Love must observe the same Conduct, unless he would
forfeit the Friendship of the Person who desires his
Advice. I have known several odd Cases of this Nature.
Hipparcbus was going to marry a common Woman,
but being resolved to do nothing without the Advice
of his Friend Philander, he consulted him upon the
Pbilander told him his Mind freely, and
represented his Mistress to him in such strong Colours,
' ' that
Thursday, September 4.
THE SPECTATOR ' .9
that the next Morning he received a Challenge for his No. 475,.
Pains, and before Twelve a Clock was run through the Thursday
Body by the Man who had asked his Advice. Celia was 137%“ 4'
more prudent on the like Occasion; she desired Leonilla to ' "
give her Opinion freely upon a young Fellow who made
his Addresses to her. Leonilla, to oblige her, told her with
great Frankness, that she looked upon him as one of the
most worthless —- Celia, foreseeing what a Character she
was to expect, begged her not to go on, for that she had
been privately married to him above a Fortnight. The
Truth of it is, a Woman seldom asks Advice before she
has bought her Weddinngloaths. When she has made
her own Choice, for Form's Sake, she sends a Congé
d'élire to her Friends.
If we look into the secret Springs and Motives that set
People at Work in these Occasions, and put them upon
asking Advice, which they never intend to take, I look
upon it to be none of the least That they are incapable of
keeping a Secret which is so very pleasing to them. A
Girl longs to tell her Confident, that she hopes to be
married in a little Time, and, in order to talk of the pretty
Fellow that dwells so much in her Thoughts, asks her
very gravely, what she would advise her to in a Case
of so much Difficulty. Why else should Melissa, who
had not a Thousand Pound in the World, go into every
Quarter of the Town to ask her Acquaintance whether
they would advise her to take Tom Townly, that made
his Addresses to her with an Estate of Five Thousand a
Year? 'Tis very pleasant, on this Occasion, to hear the
Lady propose her Doubts, and to see the Pains she is at
to get over them.
I must not here omit a Practice that is in Use among
the vainer Part of our own Sex, who will often ask a
Friend’s Advice, in relation to a Fortune whom they are
never likely to come at. WILL HONEYCOMB, who is now on
the Verge of Threescore, took me aside not long since,
and asked me in his most serious Look, Whether I would
advise him to marry my Lady Betty Single, who, by the
Way, is one of the greatest Fortunes about Town. I
stared him full in the Face upon so strange a Question;
upon which he immediately gave me an Inventory of her
Iewels
10 THE SPECTATOR
o. 475. Jewels and .Estate, adding, that he was resolved to do
h‘f'fldaYv nothing in a Matter of such consequence without my
' Approbation. Finding he would have an Answer, I told
him, if he could get the Lady's Consent, he had mine.
This is about the Tenth Match which, to my Knowledge,
WILL has consulted his Friends upon, without ever open;
ing his Mind to the Party herself.
I have been engaged in this Subject by the following
Letter, which comes to me from some notable young
Female Scribe, who, by the Contents of it, seems to have
carried Matters so far, that she is ripe for asking Advice;
but as I would not lose her Good/will, nor forfeit the
Reputation which I have with her for Wisdom, I shall
only communicate the Letter to the Publick, without re/
turning any Answer to it.
‘Mr. SPECTATOR;
Now, Sir, the Thing is this: Mr. Shapelyis the prettiest
Gentleman about Town. He is very tall, but not too tall
neither. He dances like an Angel. His Mouth is made
I don't know how, but 'tis the prettiest that I ever saw in
my Life. He is always laughing, for he has an infinite
Deal of Wit. If you did but see how he rolls his Stockings l
He has a thousand pretty Fancies, and I am sure, if you
saw him, you would like him. He is a very good Scholar,
and can talk Latin as fast as English. I wish you could
but see him dance. Now you must understand poor Mr.
Shapely has no Estate; but how can he help that, you
' know? And yet my Friends are so unreasonable as to be
alwa s teizing me about him, because he has no Estate.
But, Y am sure, he has that that is better than an Estate;
for he is a good/natured, ingenious, modest, civil, tall,
wellwbred, handsome Man, and I am obliged to him for
his Civilities ever since I saw him. I forgot to tell you
that he has black Eyes, and looks upon me now and then
as if he had Tears in them. And yet my Friends are so
unreasonable, that they would have me be uncivil to him.
I have a good Portion which they cannot hinder me of,
and I shall be Fourteen on the 29th Day of August next,
and am therefore willing to settle in the World as soon as
I can, and so is Mr. Shapely. But every Body I aclvizie1
_ WI
THE SPECTATOR II
with here is poor Mr. Shapely's Enemy. I desire there/ No. 475.
fore you will give me your Advice, for I know you are Thursda‘l
a wise Man, and if you advise me well, I am resolved 187115“ 4'
to follow it. I heartily wish you could see him dance, '
and am,
Sir,
Your most humble Servant,
B. D.
He loves your Spectators mightily.’ C
No. 476.
[ADDISON.] Friday, September 5.
Lucidus ordo.-——Hor.

AMONG my daily Papers which I bestow on the
Publick, there are some which are written with
Regularity and Method, and others that run out into the
Wildness of those Compositions which go by the Name
of Essays. As for the first, I have the whole Scheme of
the Discourse in my Mind before I set Pen to Paper. In
the other Kind of Writing, it is sufficient that I have
several Thoughts on a Subject, without troubling my self
to range them in such Order, that they may seem to grow
out of one another, and be disposed under the proper
I-Ieads. Seneca and Montaigne are Patterns for Writing
in this ,last Kind, as Tully and Aristotle excel in the
other. When I read an Author of Genius who writes
without Method, I fancy my self in a Wood that abounds
with a great many noble Obiects, rising among one
another in the greatest Confusion and Disorder. When
I read a methodical discourse,I am in a regular Plantation,
and can place my self in its several Centers, so as to take
a View of all the Lines and Walks that are struck from
them. You may ramble in the one a whole Day together,
and every Moment discover something or other that is
new to you; but when you have done you will have but
a confused imperfect Notion of the Place: In the other,
your Eye commands the whole Prospect, and gives you
such
12
THE SPECTATOR
No. 476.
s“ 515'
176113. .'
such an Idea of it as is not easily worn out of the
Memory.
Irregularity and Want of Method are only supportable
in Men of great Learning or Genius, who are often too
full to be exact, and therefore chuse to throw down their
Pearls in Heaps before the Reader, rather than be at the
Pains of stringing them.
Method is of Advantage to a Work, both in respect to
the Writer and the Reader. In regard to the first, it is a
great Help to his Invention. When a Man has plann'd
his Discourse, he finds a great many Thoughts rising out
of every Head, that do not offer themselves upon the
general Survey of a Subject. His Thoughts are at the
same Time more intelligible, and better discover their
Drift and Meaning, when they are placed in their proper
Lights, and follow one another in a regular Series, than
when they are thrown together without Order and
Connexion. There is always an Obscurity in Confusion,
and the same Sentence that wou'd have enlightened the
Reader in one Part of a Discourse, perplexes him in
another. For the same Reason likewise every Thought
in a methodical Discourse shews it self in its greatest
Beauty, as the several Figures in a Piece of Painting
receive new Grace from their Disposition in the Picture.
The Advantages of a Reader from a methodical Discourse,
are correspondent with those of the Writer. He com.
prehends every Thing easily, takes it in with Pleasure,
and retains it long.
Method is not less requisite in ordinary Conversation
than in Writing, provided a Man would talk to make
himself understood. I, who hear a thousand Coffee/house
Debates every Day, am ver sensible of this Want of
Method in the Thoughts 0? my honest Countrymen.
There is not one Dispute in ten which is managed in
those Schools of Politicks, where, after the three first
Sentences, the Question is not entirely lost. Our Dis/
putants put me in Mind of the Cuttle Fish, that when he
is unable to extricate himself, blackens all the Water about
him till he becomes invisible. The Man who does not
know how to methodize his Thoughts, has always, to
borrow a Phrase from the Dispensary, a barren Super/
fluity
THE SPECTATOR 13
flulty of Words; the Fruit is lost amidst the Exuberance No. 476,
of Leaves. Frida'g.
Tom Puzzle is one of the most eminent immethodical Sell? v
Disputants of any that has fallen under my Observation. \ '
Tom has read enough to make him very impertinent;
his Knowledge is sufficient to raise Doubts, but not to
clear them. It is Pity that he has so much Learning, or
that he has not a great Deal more. With these Qualifica/
tions Tom sets up for a Free/thinker, finds a great many
Things to blame in the Constitution of his Country, and
gives shrewd Intimations that he does not believe another
World. In short, Puzzle is an Atheist as much as his Parts
will give him Leave. He hasgot about half a Dozen common/
place Topicks, into which he never fails to turn the Con/
versation, whatever was the Occasion of it: Tho' the
Matter in Debate be about Doway or Denaln, it is ten to
one but half his Discourse runs upon the Unreasonava
ness of Bigottry and Priestcraft. This makes Mr. Puzzle
the Admiration of all those who have less Sense than
himself, and the Contempt of all those who have more.
There is none in Town whom Tom dreads so much as
my Friend Will Dry. Will, who is acquainted with
Tom's Logick, when he finds him running off the Ques/
tion, cuts him short with a What then i We allow all
this to be true, but what is it to our present Purpose 7
Ihave known Tom eloquent Half an Hour together, and
triumphing as he thought, in the Superiority of the Argu/
ment, when he has been nonplus’d on a sudden by
Mr. Dry’s desiring him to tell the Company what it was
that he endeavoured to prove. In short, Dry is a Man
of a clear methodical Head but few Words, and gains
the same Advantage over Puzzle, that a small Body of
regular Troops would gain over a numberless undisci/
plined Militia.
Saturday
14 THE SPECTATOR
N61 Saturday,
Sept. 6
1712. '

No. 477.
[ADDISON.] Saturday, September 6.
An me Iudit amabib's
Insania 7 Antoine (‘1 videor pics
Errare per lucos, amoenae
‘ Sir 000$ 61 aquae subeunt 8 auraer—Hor.
1
AVING lately read your Essay on the Pleasures of
the Imagination, I was so taken with your Thoughts
upon some of our English Gardens, that I cannot forbear
troubling you with a Letter upon that Subiect. I am one,
you must know, who am looked upon as an Humorist in
Gardening. I have several Acres about my House,
which I call my Garden, and which a skillful Gardener
would not know what to call. It is a Confusion of
Kitchin and Parterre, Orchard and Flower Garden, which
lie so mixt and interwoven with one another, that if a
Foreigner who had seen nothing of our Country should
be conveyed into my Garden at his first landing, he would
look upon it as a natural Wilderness, and one of the 0111
cultivated Parts of our Country. My Flowers grow up
in several Parts of the Garden in the greatest Luxuriancy
and Profusion. Iam so far from being fond of any par;
ticular one, by reason of its Rarity, that if I meet with
any one in a Field which pleases me, I give it a Place in
my Garden. By this Means, when a Stranger walks with
me, he is surprized to see several large Spots of Ground
covered with ten thousand different Colours, and has often
singled out Flowers that he might have met with under
a common Hedge, in a Field, or in a Meadow, as some of
the greatest Beauties of the Place. The only Method I
observe in this Particular, is to range in the same Quarter
the Products of the same Season, that they may make their
Appearance together, and compose a Picture of the greatest
Variety. There is the same Irregularity in my Planta/
tions, which run into as great a Wildness as their Natures
will permit. I take in none that do not naturally reioyce
in the Soil, and am pleased when I am walking in a
Labyrinth of my own raising, not to know whether the
next Tree I shall meet with is an Apple or an Oak, an
Elm or a Pear/tree. My Kitchin has likewise its par/
ticular
THE SPECTATOR 15
ticular‘ Quarters assigned it: for besides the wholsome No. 477.
Luxury which that Place abounds with, I have always Saturdalh
thought a Kitchin/garden a more pleasant Sight than the fflpzt‘ 6'
finest Orangerie, or artificial Green/house. I love to see '
every Thing in its Perfection, and am more pleased to
survey my Rows of Colworts and Cabbages, with a
thousand nameless Potwherbs, springing up in their full
Fragranc and Verdure, than to see the tender Plants of
, Foreign ountries kept alive by artificial Heats, or wither;
ing in an Air and Soil that are not adapted to them. I
must not omit, that there is a Fountain rising in the upper
Part of my Garden, which forms a little wandring Rill, and
administers to the Pleasure as well as the Plenty of the Place.
I have so conducted it, that it visits most of my Plantations,
and have taken particular Care to let it run in the same
Manner as it would do in an open Field, so that it genera
ally passes through Banks of Violets and Primroses, Plats
of Willow, or other Plants, that seem to be of its own
producing. There is another Circumstance in which I
am very particular, or, as my Neighbours call me, very
whimsical: As my Garden invites into it all the Birds
of the Country, by offering them the Conveniency of
Springs and Shades, Solitude and Shelter, I do not suffer
any one to destroy their Nests in the Spring, or drive
them from their usual Haunts in Fruit/time. I value my
Garden more for being full of Blackbirds than Cherries,
and very frankly give them Fruit for their Songs. By
this Means I have always the Musick of the Season in its
perfection, and am highly delighted to see the lay or the
Thrush hopping about my Walks, and shooting before
my Eye across the several little Glades and Alleys that
I pass through. I think there are as many Kinds of
Gardening as of Poetry: Your Makers of Parterres and Flower/Gardens, are Epigrammatists and Sonneteers in '
this Art, Contrivers of Bowers and Grottos, Treillages and
Cascades, are Romance Writers. IVise and London are
our heroick Poets: and if, as a Critick, I may single out
any Passage of their Works to commend, I shall take
Notice of that Part in the upper Garden at Kenslngton,
which was at first nothing but a Gravel/Pit. It must
.have been a fine Genius for Gardening, that could have
_ thought
16 THE SPECTATOR

o. 477. thought of forming such an unsightly Hollow into so
atm‘daYv beautiful an Area, and to have hit the Eye with so un/
elpt' 6' common and agreeable a Scene as that which it is now
' wrought into. To give this particular Spot of Ground the
greater Effect, they have made a very pleasing Contrast;
for as on one Side of the Walk you see this hollow Basin,
with its several little Plantations lying so conveniently
under the Eye of the Beholder; on the other Side of it
there appears a seeming Mount, made up of Trees rising
one higher than another in Proportion as they approach
the Center. A Spectator, who has not heard this Account
of it, would think this Circular Mount was not only a
real one, but that it had been actually scooped out of that
hollow Space which I have before mentioned. I never
yet met with any one who had walked in this Garden,
Who was not struck withthat part of it which I have here
' mentioned. As for my self, you will find, by the Account
which I have already given you, that my Compositions in
Gardening are altogether after the Pindariclr Manner, and
run into the beautiful Wildness of Nature, without affect/
ing the nicer Elegancies of Art. What I am now going
to mention will, perhaps, deserve your Attention more
than any Thing I have yet said. I find that in the Dis/
course which I spoke of at the Beginning of my Letter,
you are against filling an English Garden with Ever/
Greens; and indeed I am so far of your Opinion, that I
can by no Means think the Verdure of an EveraGreen
comparable to that which shoots out annually, and
cloaths our Trees in the Summer Season. But I have
often wondered that those who are like my self, and love
to live in Gardens, have never thought of contriving a
IVin ter Garden, which should consist of such Trees only
as never cast their Leaves. We have very often little
Snatches of Sunshine and fair Weather in the most
uncomfortable Parts of‘ the Year, and have frequently
several Days in November and [anuary that are as
agreeable as any in the finest Months. At such Times,
therefore, I think there could not be a greater Pleasure,
than to walk in such a Winter Garden as Ihave proposed.
In the Summer Season the whole Country blooms, and is
a Kind of Garden, for which Reason we are not so
- - sensible


,1“
THE SPECTATOR 17
sensible of those Beauties that at this Time may be every/ No. 477.
where met with; but when Nature is in her Desolation, Saturday.
and presents us with nothing but bleak and barren pros/ 6'
pects, there is something unspeakany chearful in a Spot
of Ground which is covered with Trees that smile amidst
all the Rigours of Winter, and give us a View of the
most gay Season in the Midst of that which is the most
dead and melancholy. I have so far indulged my self in
this Thought, that I have set apart a whole Acre of
Ground for the executing of it. The Walls are covered
with Ivy instead of Vines. The Laurel, the Hornbeam,
and the Holly, with many other Trees and Plants of
the same Nature, grow so thick in it, that you cannot
imagine a more lively Scene. The glowing Redness
of the Berries, with which they are hung at this Time,
vies with the Verdure of their Leaves, and are apt to
inspire the Heart of the Beholder with that vernal Delight
which you have somewhere taken Notice of in your
former Papers. It is very pleasant, at the same Time,
to see the several Kinds of Birds retiring into this little
green Spot, and enjoying themselves among the Branches
and Foliage, when my great Garden, which I have before;
mentioned to you, does not afford a single Leaf for their
Shelter.
You must know, Sir, that I look upon the Pleasure
which we take in a Garden, as one of the most innocent
delights in humane Life. A Garden was the Habitation
of our first Parents before the Fall. It is naturally apt to
fill the Mind with Calmness and Tranquillity, and to lay
all its turbulent Passions at Rest. It gives us a great
Insight into the Contrivance and Wisdom of Providence,
and suggests innumerable Subjects for Meditation. I
cannot but think the very Complacency and Satisfaction
which a Man takes in these Works of Nature, to be a
laudable, if not a virtuous Habit of Mind. For all which
IReasons I hope you will pardon the length of my present
etter,

I am,
C Sir. fic.‘
IV, . 3 Monday
18
THE SPECTATOR
o. 478.
onday.
ept. 8,
712.
No. 478.
[STEELE] Monday, September 8. -
Usus
Ouem penes arbitrx'um est, (‘1 [us 6 norma—

‘ Mr. SPECTATOR,
T happened lately, that a Friend of mine, who had
many things to buy for his Family, wou’d oblige me
to walk with him to the Shops. He was very nice in his
Way, and fond of having every thing shewn, which at
first made me very uneasy; but as his Humour still cone
tinu’d, the things which I had been staring at along with
him began to fill my Head, and led me into a Set of amuse
ing Thoughts concerning them. ‘
I fancy’d it must be very surprizing to any one who
, enters into a Detail of Fashions, to consider how far the
Vanity of Mankind has laid it self out in Dress, what a
prodigious Number of People it maintains, and What a
Circulation of Money it occasions. Providence in this
Case makes use of the Folly which we will not give up,
and it becomes instrumental to the Support of those who
are willing to labour. Hence it is that Fringe/Makers,
Lace/Men, TireaWomen, and a Number of other Trades,
which would be useless in a simple State of Nature, draw
their Subsistence; tho' it is seldom seen that such as these
are extremely rich, because their original Fault of being
founded upon Vanity, keeps them poor by the light
Inconstancy of its Nature. The Variableness of Fashion
turns the Stream of Business, which flows from it
now into one Channel, and anon into another; so that
different Sets of People sink or flourish in their Turns
b it.
YFrom the Shops we retir'd to the Tavern, where I
found my Friend express so much Satisfaction for the
Bargains he had made, that my moral Reflections (if
I had told them) might have pass'd for a Reproof; so I
chose rather to fall in with him, and let the Discourse
run upon the Use of Fashions.
Here we remembred how much Man is govern'd by _
his Senses, how lively he is struck by the Objects which
appear to him in an agreeable Manner, how much Cloaths
\. . contribute
THE SPECTATOR l9
contribute to make us agreeable Objects, and how much No, 478,
we owe it to our selves that we should appear so. Monday.
We considered Man as belonging to Societies: Societies 5'
as form'd of different Ranks, and different Ranks dis- ' '
tinguished by Habits, that all proper Duty or Respect
might attend their Appearance.
We took Notice of several Advantages which are met
with in the Occurrences of Conversation. How the
bashful Man has been sometimes so rais’d, as to express
himself with an Air of Freedom, when he imagines that
his Habit introduces him to Company with a becoming
Manner: And again, how a Fool in fine Cloaths shall be
suddenly heard with Attention, ’till he has betrayed him/
self; whereas a Man of Sense appearing with a Dress of
Negligence, shall be but coldly received 'till he be prov'd
by Time, and established in a Character. Such Things
as these we cou'd recollect to have happen’d to our own
Knowledge so very often, that we concluded the Author
- had his Reasons, who advises his Son to go in Dress rather
above his Fortune than under it.
At last the Subject seem’d so considerable, that it was
proposed to have a Repository builded for Fashions, as
there are Chambers for Medals and other Rarities. The
building may be shap'd as that which stands among
the Pyramids, in the Form of a Woman’s Head. This
may be rais'd upon Pillars, whose Ornaments shall bear
a just Relation to the Design. Thus there may be an
Imitation of Fringe carv’d in the Base, a Sort of Appear.
ance of Lace in the Frieze, and a Representation
of curling Locks, with Bows of Riban sloping over
them, may fill up the Work of the Cornish. The
Inside may be divided into two Apartments, appro/
priated to each Sex. The Apartments may be fill’d
with Shelves, on which Boxes are to stand as regularly
as Books in a Library. These are to have Folding/
Doors, which being open’d, you are to behold a Baby
dress’d out in some Fashion which has flourish'd, and
standing upon a Pedestal, where the Time of its Reign
is mark'd down. For its further Regulation let it be
order’d, that every one who invents a Fashion shall
bring in his Box, whose Front he may at Pleaisgre
ve
20 THE SPECTATOR
have either work'd or painted with some amorous or
ay Device, that, like Books with gilded Leaves and
overs, it may the sooner draw the Eyes of the Be»
holders. And to the End that these may be preserv'd
with all due Care, let there be a Keeper appointed,
who shall be a Gentleman qualify'd with a competent
Knowledge in Cloaths; so that by this Means the Place
will be a comfortable Support for some Beau who has
spent his Estate in dressing.
The Reasons offer'd by which we expected to gain the
Approbation of the Publick, were as follows.
First, That every one who is considerable enough
to be a Mode, and has any Imperfection of Nature
or Chance, which it is possible to hide by the Advantage
of Cloaths, may, by coming to this Repository, be
furnish'd her self, and furnish all who are under the same
Misfortunes with the most agreeable Manner of con/
cealing it; and that on the other Side, every one who
has any Beauty in Face or Shape, may also be furnish’d
with the most agreeable Manner of shewing it.
Secondly, That whereas some of our young Gentlemen
who travel, give us great Reason to suspect that they only
go abroad to make or improve a Fancy for Dress, a Project
of this Nature may be a Means to keep them at home,
which is in Effect the keeping of so much Money in
the Kingdom. And perhaps the Ballance of Fashion
in Europe, which now leans upon the Side of France,
may be so alter'd for the Future, that it may become
as common with Frenchmen to come to England, for
their finishing Stroke oF‘BrE‘e‘ding, as it has been for
Englishmen to go to France for it.
Thirdly, Whereas several great Scholars, who might
have been otherwise useful to the World, have spent
their Time in studyi to describe the Dresses of the
Ancients from dark ints, which they are fain to
interpret and support with much Learning, it will from
henceforth happen that they shall be freed from the
Trouble, and the World from useless Volumes. This
Project will be a Registry to which Posterity may have
Recourse for the clearing such obscure Passages as
tend that Way in Authors, and therefore we shall not
or

THE SPECTATOR 21
for the future submit our selves to the learning of No. 478.
Etymology, which might perswade the Age to come, MmdaYv
that the Farthingal was worn for Cheapness, or the §'
Furbeloe for Warmth. '
Fourthly, Whereas they who are old themselves, have
often a way of railing at the Extravagance of Youth,
and the whole Age in which their Children live; it
is hoped that this ill Humour will be much suppress'd,
when we can have recourse to the Fashions of their
Times, produce them in our Vindication, and be able
to shew that it might have been as expensive in Queen
Elizabeth's Time only to wash and quill a Ruff, as it
is now to buy Cravats or Neck/Handkerchiefs.
- We desire also to have it taken Notice of, That be/
cause we would shew a particular Respect to Foreigners,
which may induce them to perfect their Breeding here
in a Knowledge which is very proper for pretty
Gentlemen, we have conceived the Motto for the House
in the learned Language. There is to be a Picture
over the Door, with a Looking/Glass and a Dressing/
Chair in the Middle of it: Then on one Side are to
be seen, above one another, Patch/Boxes, Pin/Cushions,
and little Bottles; on the other, Powder/Bags, Puffs,
Combs, and Brushes; beyond these, Swords with fine
Knots, whose Points are hidden, and Fans almost
closed, with the Handles downward, are to stand
out interchangeably from the Sides, till they meet at
the Top, and form a Semicircle over the rest of the
Figures: Beneath all, the Writting is to run in this
pretty sounding Manner:
Adeste, O quotquot sunt, Veneres, Gratiae, Cupidlnes,
En vobis adsunt in promth
Faces, vincula, spicula,
Hinc eligite, sumite, regite.

I am,
Sir,
Your most humble Servant,
A. B.’
The Proposal of my Correspondent I cannot but look
upon
22 THE SPECTATOR
o. 478.
onday
pt. 3, y
12. -
are capable Persons for this Superintendency.
upon as an ingenious Method of placing Persons (whose
Parts make them ambitious to exert themselves in
frivolous Things) in a Rank by themselves. In. order
to this, I would propose, That there be a Board of
Directors of the fashionable Society; and because it is
a Matter of too much Weight for a private Man to
determine alone, I should be highly obliged to my
Correspondents if they would give in Lists of Persons
qualified for this Trust. If the chief Coffee/houses, the
Conversations of which Places are carry'd on by Persons,
each of whom has his little Number of Followers and
Admirers, would name from among themselves two or
three to be inserted, they should be put up with great
Faithfulness. Old Beaus are to be presented in the first '
Place; but as that Sect, with Relation to Dress, is almost
extinct, it will, I fear, be absolutely necessary to take in
all Time/Servers, properly so deem'd; that is, such as,
without any Conviction of Conscience, or View of Interest, - '
change with the World, and that meerly from a Terror
of being out of Fashion. Such also, who from Facility
of Temper, and too much Obsequiousness, are vitious
against their Will, and follow Leaders whom they do
not approve, for Want of Courage to go their own Way,
Those
who are 10th to grow old, or would do any Thing com
trary to the course and order of Things, out of Fondness
to be in Fashion, are proper Candidates. To conclude,
those who are in Fashion without apparent Merit, must
be suppos’d to have latent Qualities, which would appear ,
in a Post of Direction, and therefore are to be regarded
in forming these Lists. Any who shall be pleas'd, accordw
ing to these, or what further Qualifications may occur to
himself, to send a List, is desired to do it Within fourteen
Days after this Date. . ‘
N. B. The Place of the Physician .to this Society,
according to the last mentioned Qualification, is already
engaged.
Tuesday
THE SPECTATOR 23
NO! NO! [STEELE] Tuesday, September 9. guet$d9aY|
e .
- ———Dare jura maritis.-—Hor. 171%. ’
ANY are the Epistles I every Day receive from
Husbands, who complain of Vanity, Pride, but
above all Ill/nature, in their Wives. I cannot tell how
it is, but I think I see in all their Letters that the Cause
of their Uneasiness is in themselves; and indeed I have
hardly ever observed the married Condition unhappy,
but from Want of Judgment or Temper in the Man. The
Truth is, we generally make Love in a Stile, and with
Sentiments very unfit for ordinary Life: They are half '
Theatrical, half Romantick. By this Means we raise our
Imaginations to what is not to be expected in humane
Life; and because we “did not beforehand think of the
Creature we were enamoured of as subject to Dishumour,
_ Age, Sickness, Impatience, or Sullenness, but altogether
considered her as the Object of Joy, humane Nature it
self is often imputed to her as her particular Imperfection
or Defect.
I take it to be a Rule proper to be observed in all
Occurrences of Life, but more especially in the domestick
or matrimonial Part of it, to preserve always a Disposition
to be pleased. This cannot be supported but by con»
sidering Things in their right Light, and as Nature has
formed them, and not as our own Fancies or Appetites
would have them. He then who took a young Lady to
his Bed, with no other Consideration than the Expectation
of Scenes of Dalliance, and thought of her (as I said before)
only as she was to administer to the Gratification of Desire;
as that Desire flags, will, without her Fault, think her
Charms and her Merit abated: From hence must follow
Indifference, Dislike, Peevishness, and Rage. But the
Man who brings-his Reason to support his Passion, and
beholds what he loves as liable to all the Calamities of
humane Life both in Body and Mind, and even at the
best, what must bring upon him new Cares and new Rela/
tions; such a Lover, I say, will form himself accordingly,
and adapt his Mind to the Nature of his Circumstances.
This latter Person will be prepared to be a Fatlfier, a
riend
24 THE SPECTATOR

.479. Friend, an Advocate, a Steward for People yet unborn,
“dim and has proper Affections ready for every Incident in the
EL 9' Marriage/State. Such a Man can hear the Cries of
' Children with Pity instead of Anger; and when they
run over his Head, he is not disturbed at their Noise,
but is glad of their Mirth and Health. Tom Trusty has
told me, that he thinks it doubles his Attention to the
most intricate Affair he is about, to hear his Children,
for whom all his Cares are applied, make a Noise in the
next Room: On the other Side, Will Sparkisb cannot
put on his Perriwig, or adjust his Cravat at the Glass, for
the Noise of those damn'd Nurses and squalling Brats;
and then ends with a gallant Reflection upon the Comforts
of Matrimony, runs out of the Hearing, and drives to the
Chocolate/House.
According as the Husband is disposed in himself, every
Circumstance of his Life is to give him Torment or
Pleasure. When the Affection is well placed, and sup.
ported by the Considerations of Duty, Honour, and
Friendship, which are in the highest Degree engaged in
this Alliance, there can nothing rise in the common
Course of Life, or from the Blows or Favours of Fortune,
in which a Man will not find Matters of some Delight
unknown to a single Condition.
He that sincerely loves his Wife and Family, and
studies to improve that Affection in himself, conceives
Pleasure from the most indifferent Things; while the
married Man, who has not bid Adieu to the Fashions and
false Gallantries of the Town, is perplexed with every
Thing around him. In both these Cases Man cannot,
indeed, make a sillier Figure, than in repeati such
Pleasures and Pains to the Rest of the World; buxtlf speak
of them only, as they sit upon those who are involved in
them. As I visit all Sorts of People, I cannot indeed but
smile, when the good Lady tells her Husband what extra;
ordinary Things the Child spoke since he went out. No
longer than Yesterday I was prevailed with to go home
with a fond Husband; and his Wife told him, that his
Son, of his own Head, when the Clock in the Parlour
struck Two, said, Pappa would come to Dinner
presently. While the Father has him in a Rapture
THE SPECTATOR 25
his Arms, and is drowning him with Kisses, the Wife No. 479.
tells me he is but just Four Years old. Then they both TuesdaY.
struggle for him, and bring him up to me, and repeat his 13;}? 9'
Observation of Two a Clock. I was called upon, by Looks '
upon the Child, and then at me, to say something; and
I told the Father, that this Remark of the Infant of his
coming home, and joining the Time with it, was a certain
Indication that he would be a great Historian and Chron/
ologer. They are neither of them Fools, yet received my
Complement with great Acknowledgement of my Pre/
science. I fared very well at Dinner, and heard many
other notable Sayings of their Heir, which would have
given very little Entertainment to one less turn'd to re/
flection than I was; but it was a pleasing Speculation to
remark on the Happiness of a Life, in which Things of
no Moment give Occasion of Hope, Self/Satisfaction, and
Triumph. On the other Hand, I have known an ill/
natured Coxcomb, who was hardly improved in any
Thing but Bulk, for Want of this Disposition, Silence
the whole Family, as a Set of silly Women and Children,
for recounting Things which were really above his own
Capacity.
When I say all this, I cannot deny but there are per/
verse Iades that fall to Men’s Lots, with whom it requires
more than common Proficiency in Philosophy to be able
to live. When these are joined to Men of warm Spirits,
without Temper or Learning, they are frequently cor/
rected with Stripes; but one of our famous Lawyers is of
opinion, That this ought to be used sparingly. As I
remember those are his very Words; but as it is proper
to draw some spiritual Use out of all Afflictions, I should
rather recommend to those who are visited with
Women of Spirit, to form themselves for the World by
Patience at Home. Socrates, who is by all Accounts the
undoubted Head of the Sect of the Hen/peck'd, own'd and
acknowledged that he own'd great Part of his Virtue to
the Exercise which his useful Wife constantly gave it.
There are several good Instructions may be drawn from
his wise Answers to People of less Fortitude than himself
on her Subjeet. A Friend, with Indignation, asked how
so good a Man could live with so violent a Creature? He
observed
26 THE SPECTATOR
O. uesday,
cpl. 91
observed to him, That they who learn to keep a good
Seat on Horseback, mount the least manageable they
can get, and when they have master'd them, they are
sure never to be discomposed on the Backs of Steeds less
restive. At several Times, to different Persons, on the
same Subject, he has said, My dear Friend, you are
beholden to Xantippe, that I bear so well your flying/out
in a Dispute. To another, My Hen clacks very much,
but she brings me chickens. They that live in a trading
Street, are not disturbed at the Passage of Carts. I
would have, if possible, a wise Man be contented with his
Lot, even with a Shrew; for though he cannot make her
better, he may, you see, make himself better by her
Means.
But, instead of pursuing my Design of displaying
conjugal Love in its natural Beauties and Attractions, I
am got into Tales to the Disadvantage of that State of Life.
I must say therefore, that I am verily perswaded that
whatever is delightful in humane Life, is to be enjoyed in
greater Perfection in the marry'd, than in the single
Condition. He that has this Passion in Perfection, in
Occasions of Joy can say to himself, besides his own
Satisfaction, How happy will this make my Wife and
Children .7 Upon Occurrences of Distress or Danger
can comfort himself, But all this While my Wife and
Children are safe. There is something in it that doubles
Satisfactions, because others participate them; and dispels
Afflictions, because others are exempt from them. All
who are married without this Relish of their Circumstance,
are in either a Tasteless Indolence and Negligence, which
is hardly to be attained, or else live in the hourly Repeti/
tion of sharp Answers, eager Upbraidings, and distracting
Reproaches. In a Word, the married State, with and
without the Affection suitable to it, is the compleatest
Image of Heaven and Hell we are capable of receiving in
this Life.
Wednesday
THE SPECTATOR 27
NO. NO. [STEELE] Wednesday, September 10. Yedfles'
aY
Responsare cupidinihus, contemnere honores Se £10,
Fortis, 6 in se ipso totus, teres atque rotundus.—-Hor. 17 2.
THE other Day looking over those old Manuscripts,
of which I have formerly given some Account, and
which relate to the Character of the mighty Pharamond
of France, and the close Friendship between him and his
Friend Eucrate; I found, among the Letters which had
been in the Custody of the latter, an Epistle from a Country
Gentleman to Pharamond, wherein he excuses himself
from coming to Court. The Gentleman, it seems, was
contented with his Condition, had formerly been in the
King’s Service, but at the writing the following Letter,
had, from Leisure and Reflection, quite another Sense of
Things than that which he had in the more active Part of
his Life.
‘Monsieur Chezluy to Pharamond.
Dread Sir,

I have from your own Hand (enclosed under the Cover
of Mr. Eucrate of your Majesty's BedwChamber) a Letter
which invites me to Court. I understand this great
Honour to be done me out of Respect and Inclination
to me, rather than Regard to your own Service: For
which Reasons, I beg Leave to lay before your Maiesty my
reasons for declining to depart from Home; and will not
doubt but, as your Motive in desiring my Attendance was
to make me an happier Man, when you think that will
not be effected by my Remove, you will permit me to stay
where I am. Those who have an Ambition to appear in
Courts, have ever an Opinion that their Persons or their
Talents are particularly formed for the Service or Orna.
ment of that Place; or else are hurried by downright
Desire of Gain, or what they call Honour, or take upon
themselves whatever the Generosity of their Master can
give them Opportunities to grasp at. But your Goodness
shall not be thus imposed upon by me: I will therefore
confess to you, that frequent Solitude, and long Conversa/
tion with such who know no Arts which polish Life, have
made
28 THE SPECTATOR
OI ednesr
ay,
eat. 10,
made me the plainest Creature in your Dominions. Those
less Capacities of moving with a good Grace, bearing a
ready Affability to all around me, and acting with Ease
before many, have quite left me. I am come to that, with
Regard to my Person, that I consider it only as a Machine
Iam obliged to take Care of, in order to enioy my Soul
in its Faculties with Alacrity; well remembring, that this
Habitation of Clay will in a few Years be a meaner Piece
of Earth than any Utensil about my House. When this is,
as it really is, the most frequent Reflection I have, you will
easily imagine how well I should become a Drawing;
Room: Add to this, What shall a Man without Desires do
about the generous Pbaramond? Monsieur Eucrate has
hinted to me, that you have Thoughts of distinguishing
me with Titles. As for my self, in the Temper of my
present Mind, Appellations of Honour would but embarrass
Discourse, and new Behaviour towards me perplex me in
every Habitude of Life. I am also to acknowledge to you,
that my Children, of whom your Majesty condescended to
enquire, are all of them mean both in their Persons and
Genius. The Estate my eldest Son is Heir to. is more
than he can enjoy with a good Grace. My Self/love will
not carry me so far, as to impose upon Mankind the
Advancement of Persons (meerly for their being related
to me) into high Distinctions, who ought for their own
Sakes, as well as that of the Publick, to affect Obscurity. I
wish, my generous Prince, as it is in your Power to give
Honours and Offices, it were also to give Talents suitable
to them: Were it so, the noble Pbaramond would reward
the Zeal of my Youth with Abilities to do him Service in
my Age.
Those who accept of Favour without Merit, support
themselves in it at the Expence of your Majesty. Give
me Leave to tell you, Sir, this is the Reason that we in
the Country hear so often repeated the word Prerogative.
That Part of your Law which is reserved in your self for
the readier Service and Good of the Publick, slight Men are
eternally buzzing in our Ears to cover their own Follies
and Miscarriages. It would be an Addition to the high
Favour you have done me, if you would let Eucrate send
me word how often, and in what Cases you allow a Coarlv
sta e
THE SPECTATOR 29
stable to insist upon the Prerogative. From the highest No. 480.
to the lowest Officer in your Dominions, something of Wednes'
their own Carriage they would exempt from Examination “SiaYL 10
under the Shelter of the Word Prerogative. I would fain, 171132, '
most noble Pharamond, see one of your Officers assert
your Prerogative by good and gracious Actions. When
is it used to help the Afflicted, to rescue the Innocent, to
comfort the Stranger? Uncommon Methods, apparently
undertaken to attain worthy Ends, would never make
Power invidious. You see, Sir, I talk to you with the
Freedom your noble Nature approves in all whom you
admit to your Conversation.
But, to return to your Majesty’s Letter, I humbly con;
ceive, that all Distinctions are useful to Men only as they
are to act in Publick: and it would be a romantick Madness
for a Man to be a Lord in his Closet. Nothing can be
honourable to a Man apart from the World, but the Rev
flection upon worthy Actions; and‘He that places Honour
in a Consciousness of Well/doing, will have but little
Relish for any outward Homage that is paid him, since
what gives him Distinction to himself, cannot come within
the Observation of his Beholders. Thus all the Words of
Lordship, Honour, and Grace, are only Repetitions to a
Man, that the King has ordered him to be called so; but
no Evidences that there is any Thing in himself that
would give the Man who applies to him those Ideas,
without the Creation of his Master.
I have, most noble Pharamond, all Honours and all
Titles in your own Approbation; I triumph in them as
they are your Gift, I refuse them as they are to give me
the Observation of others. Indulge me, my noble Master,
in this Chastity of Renown; let me know my self in the
Favour of Pharamond : and look down upon the Applause
of the People.
I am.
In all Duty and Loyalty,
Your Majesty’s most obedient
Subject and Servant,
Jean Chezluy.
‘ Sir
3O
THE SPECTATOR
Q: ednes/
aY
epf. 10,
12.
‘ Sir,
I need not tell you with what Disadvantages Men of
low Fortunes and great Modesty come into the World,
what wrong Measures their Diffidence of themselves, and
Fear of offending, often obliges them to take, and what
a Pity it is that their greatest Virtues and Qualities, that
should soonest, recommend them, are the main Obstacle
in the Way of their Preferment.
This, Sir, is my Case; I was bred at a Country School,
where I learned La tin and Greek. The Misfortunes of
my Family forced me up to Town, where a Profession
of the politer Sort has protected me against Infamy and
Want. I am now Clerk to a Lawyer, and, in Times of
Vacancy and Recess from Business, have made my self
Master of Italian and French; and though the Progress
I have made in my Business has gain'd me Reputation
enough for one of my Standing, yet my Mind suggests to
me every Day, that it is not upon that Foundation I am
to build my Fortune.
The Version I have my present Dependence upon, has
it in his Nature, as well as in his Power, to advance me,
by recommending me to a Gentleman that is going be/
yond Sea in a publick Employment. I know the Printing
this Letter would point me out to those I want Confidence
to speak to, and I hope it is not in your Power to refuse
making any Body happy.

September 9, Yours, ftc.
1712. M. D.’
No. 481.
[ADDISONJ Thu:sday, September 11.
Uti non
Compositus melius cum Bitho Baccbius. In jus
Acres procurrunt.————Hor.
T is something pleasant enough to consider the different
Notions, which different Persons have of the same
Thing/ff Men of low Condition very often set a Value
on Things, which are not prized by those who are in an
higher
THE SPECTATOR 31

higher Station of Life, there are many Things these No. 481.
esteem, which are of no Value among Persons of an Thursd
inferior Rank. Common People are, in particular, very 187?; 11'
much astonished, when they hear of those solemn Con/ '
tests and Debates, which are made among the Great upon
the Punctilios of a publick Ceremony, and wonder to hear
that any Business of Consequence should be retarded by
those little Circumstances, which they represent to thenv
selves as trifling and insignificany I am mightily pleased
with a Porter’s Decision, in one of Mr. Southern’s Plays,
which is founded upon that fine Distress of a virtuous
Woman’s marrying a second Husband, while her first
was yet living. The first Husband, who was supposed
to have been dead, returning to his House after a long
Absence, raises a noble Perplexity for the Tragick Part
of the Play. In the mean while, the Nurse and the
Porter conferring upon the Difficulties that would ensue
in such a Case, Honest Sampson thinks the Matter may
be easily decided, and solves it very judiciously, by the
old Proverb, that if his first Master be still living, The
Man must have his Mare again. There is nothing in
my Time which has so much surprized and confounded
the greatest Part of my honest Countrymen, as the
present Controversy between Count Rech teren and
Monsieur Mesnager, which employs the wise Heads of
so many Nations, and holds all the Affairs of Europe
in Suspense.
Upon my going into a Coffee/house Yesterday, and
lending an Ear to the next Table, which was encompassed
with a Circle of inferior Politicians; one of them, after
having read over the News very attentively, broke out
into the following Remarks. I am afraid, says he, this
unhappy Rupture between the Footmen at Utrecht will
retard the Peace of Christendom. I wish the Pope may
not be at the Bottom of it. His Holiness has a very good
Hand at fomenting a Division, as the poor Swiss Cantons
have lately experienced to their Cost. If Monsieur Wha t/
d'ye/call/him's Domesticks will not come to an Accom/
modation, I do not know how the Ouarrel can be ended
but by a Religious War.
Why truly, says a IViseacre that sate by him, were Itfis
e

32 THE SPECTATOR

0.48L
the King of France, I would scorn to take Part with the
"PSdaY1 Footmen of either Side: Here's all the Business of Europe
eptl,
12.
stands still, because Monsieur Mesnager’s Man has had
his Head broke. If Count Rectrum had given them a pot
of Ale after it, all would have been well without any of
this Bustle; but they say he's a warm Man, and does not
care to be made Mouths at.
Upon this, one, that had held his Tongue hitherto, began
to exert himself; declaring, That he was very well pleased
the Plenipotentiaries of our Christian Princes took this
Matter into their serious Consideration; for that Lacqueys
were never so saucy and pragmatical as they are now/aw
days, and that he should be glad to see them taken down
in the Treaty of Peace, if it might be done without
Prejudice to the Publick Affairs.
One, who sate at the other End of the Table, and seemed
to be in the Interests of the French King, told them, that
they did not take the Matter right, for that his most
Christian Majesty did not resent this Matter because it
was an Injury done to Monsieur Mesnager's Footmen;
for, says he, what are Monsieur Mesnager's Footmen to
him? But because it was done to his Subjects: Now, says
he, let me tell you, it would look very odd for a Subject of
France to have a bloody Nose, and his Sovereign not to
take Notice of it. He is obliged in Honour to defend his
People against Hostilities; and if the Dutch will be so
insolent to a Crowned Head, as, in any wise, to cuff or
kick those who are under His Protection, I think he is in
the Right to call them to an Account for it.
This distinction set the Controversy upon a new Foot,
and seemed to be very well approved by most that heard
it, 'till a little warm Fellow, who declared himself a Friend
to the House of Austria, fell most unmercifully upon
his Gallic Majesty, as encouraging his Subjects to make
Mouths at their Betters, and afterwards screening them
from the Punishment that was due to their Insolence.
To which he added, that the French Nation was so ad;
dicted to Grimace, that if there was not a Stop put to it at
the General Congress, there would be no walking the
Streets for them in a Time of Peace, 'especiall if they
continued Masters of the West/Indies. The little Man
proceeded

THE SPECTATOR 33
proceeded with a great deal of Warmth, declaring, that if No, 481,
the Allies were of his Mind, he would oblige the French Thursdaj
King to burn his Gallies, and tolerate the Protestant f?“ 11'
Religion in his Dominions before he would sheath his ‘
Sword. He concluded with Monsieur Mesnager
an insignificant Prig.
The Dispute was now growing very warm, and one
does not know where it would have ended, had not a
young Man of about One and twenty, who seems to have
been brought up with an Eye to the Law, taken the
Debate into his Hand, and given it, as his Opinion, that
neither Count Rechteren, nor Monsieur Mesnager had
behav'd themselves right in this Affair. Count Rechteren,
says he, should have made Affidavit that his Servants
had been affronted, and then Monsieur Mesnager would
have done him Justice, by taking away their Liveries from
them, or some other way that he might have thought the
most proper; for let me tell you, if a Man makes a Mouth
at me, I am not to knock the Teeth out of it for his
Pains. Then again, as for Monsieur Mesnager, upon his
Servants being beaten, why! he might have had his
Action of Assault and Battery. But as the Case now
stands, if you will have my Opinion, I think they ought
to bring it to Referees.
I heard a great deal more of this Conference, but I must
confess with little Edification; for all I could learn at last
from these honest Gentlemen was, that the Matter in
Debate was of too high a Nature for such Heads as theirs,
or mine, to comprehend. O
No. 482.
[ADDISON] Friday, September 12.
Floriferis ut apes in saltibus omnia Iibant.--Lucr'
WHEN I have published any single Paper that falls
in with the popular Taste, and pleases more than
ordinary, it always brings me in a great Return of Letters/
My Tuesday’s Discourse, whereinI gave several Admoniv
tions to the Fraternity of the Henpeck’d, has already
produced me very many Correspondents; the Reason I
cannot guess at, unless it be that such a Discourse is of
IV. C general
34 THE SPECTATOR
o. 482.
rida
ept.
12
if,
general Use, and every married Man's Money. An honest
Tradesman, who dates his Letter from Cheapside, sends
me Thanks in the Name of a Club, who, he tells me, meet
as often as their Wives will give them Leave, and stay
together ’till they are sent for Home. He informs me,
that my Paper has administred great Consolation to their
whole Club, and desires me to give some further Account
of Socrates, and to acquaint them in whose Reign he
lived, whether he was a Citizen or a Courtier, whether
he buried Xantippe, with many other Particulars: For
that by his Sayings he appears to have been a very wise
Man, and a good Christian. Another, who writes him/
self Benjamin Bamboo, tells me, that being coupled with
a Shrew, he had endeavoured to tame her by such lawful
Means as those which are mentioned in my last Tues/
day's Paper, and that in his Wrath he had often gone
further than Bracton allows in those Cases; but that
for the future he was resolved to bear it like a Man of
Temper and Learning, and consider her only as one who
lives in his House to teach him Philosophy. Tom
Dapperwit says, that he agrees with me in that whole
Discourse, excepting only the last Sentence, where I
affirm the married State to be either an Heaven or an
Hell. Tom has been at the Charge of a Penny upon
this Occasion, to tell me, that by his Experience it. is
neither one nor the other, but rather that middle Kind of
State commonly known by the Name of Purgatory.
The Fair Sex have likeways obliged me with their
Reflections upon the same Discourse. A “Lady, who calls
herself Euterpe, and seems a Woman of Letters, asks me
whether I am for establishing the Salick Law in every
Family, and why it is not fit that a Woman who has Dis.
cretion and Learning should sit at the Helm, when the
Husband is weak and illiterate? Another, of a quite con.
trary Character, subscribes herself Xantippe. and tells
me, that she follows the Example of her Name/sake;
for being married to a bookish Man, who has no Know;
ledge of the World, she is forced to take their Affairs
into her own Hands, and to spirit him up now and
then, that he may not grow musty, and unfit for Con;
versation. .
After
THE SPECTATOR 35
After this Abridgment of some Letters which are Na. 4132,
come to my Hands upon this Occasion, I shall publish gridav.
' apt: 121
one of them at large 1712,
‘ Mr. SPECTATOR,
You have given us a lively Picture of that Kind of
Husband who comes under the Denomination of the
Henpeck’d; but I do not remember that you have ever
touched upon one that is of the quite different Character,
and who, in several Places of England, goes by the Name
of a Cott/Ouean. I have the Misfortune to be joined for
Life with one of this Character, who in Reality is more a
Woman than I am. He was bred up under the Tuition of
a tender Mother, 'till she had made him as good an
Housewife as herself. He could preserve Apricots, and
make gellies before he had been two Years out of the
Nursery. He was never suffered to go abroad for Fear
of catching Cold; when he should have been hunting
down a Buck, he was by his Mother's Side learning how
to season it, or put it in Crust; and was making Paper
Boats with his Sisters, at an Age when other young
Gentlemen are crossing the Seas, or travelling into
Foreign Countries. He has the whitest Hand that you
ever saw in your Life, and raises Paste better than any
Woman in England. These Qualifications make him a
sad Husband: He is perpetually in the Kitchin, and has
a thousand Squabbles with the Cook/maid. He is better
acquainted with the Milk Score, than his Steward's
Accounts. I fret to Death when I hear him find fault
with a Dish that is not dressed to his Liking, and in/
structing his Friends that dine with him in the best
Pickle for a Walnut, or Sauce for an Haunch of Venison.
With all this, he is a very good/natured Husband, and
never fell out with me in his Life but once, upon the over;
roasting of a Dish of Wild/Fowl: At the same Time I must
own I would rather he was a Man of a rough Temper,
that would treat me harshly sometimes, than of such an
effeminate busy Nature in a Province that does not
belong to him. Since you have given us the Character
of a Wife who wears the Breeches, pray say something
of a Husband that wears the Petticoat. Why shoulil: not a
. emale
36 ' THE SPECTATOR
o. 482. Female Character be as ridiculous in a Man, as a Male
ridayz. Character in one of our Sex?
1
83' O I am, fic.’
NO: _
[ADDISON] Saturday, September 13.
Nec deus intersx't, nisi dignus vindice nodus
Inciderit.—Hor.
WE cannot be guilty of a greater Act of Uncharit/
ableness, than to interpret the Afflictions which
befall our Neighbours, as Punishmen ts and judgments.
It aggravates the Evil to him who suffers, when he looks
upon himself as the Mark of Divine Vengeance, and
abates the Compassion of those towards him, who regard
him in so dreadful a Light. This Humour of turning
every Misfortune into a Judgment, proceeds from wrong
Notions of Religion, which, in its own Nature, produces
GOOdawill towards Men, and puts the mildest Construction
upon every Accident that befalls them. In this Case,
therefore, it is not Religion that sours a Man's Temper,
but it is his Temper that sours his Religion: People of
loomy unchearful Imaginations, or of envious malignant
empers, whatever Kind of Life they are enga ed in,
will discover their natural Tincture of Mind in a their
Thoughts, Words and Actions. As the finest Wines have
often the Taste of the Soil, so even the most religious
Thoughts often draw something that is particular from
the Constitution of the Mind in which they arise. When
Folly or Superstition strike in with this natural Depravity
of Temper, it is not in the Power, even of Religion it
self, to preserve the Character of the Person who is
possessed with it, from appearing highly absurd and
ridiculous. _
An old Maiden Gentlewoman, whom I shall conceal
under the Name of Nemesis, is the greatest Discoverer
of Judgments that I have met with. She can tell you
what Sin it was that set such a Man's House on Fire,
or blew down his Barns. Talk to her of an unfortunate
young Lady that lost her Beauty by the Small/Pox, she
fetches a deep Sigh, and tells you, that when she had
' a
THE SPECTATOR 37
0
a fine Face she was always looking on it in her Glass. No. 483.
Tell her of a Piece of good Fortune that has befallen Saturdayt
one of her Acquaintance, and she wishes it may prosper well; '
with her; but her Mother used one of her Nieces very '
barbarously. Her usual Remarks turn upon People who
__ had great Estates, but never enjoyed them, by reason
‘ of some Flaw in their own, or their Father's Behaviour.
She can give you the Reason why such an one died
Childless; Why such an one was cut off in the Flower
of his Youth: Why such an one was unhappy in her
Marriage; Why one broke his Leg on such a particular
Spot of Ground, and why another was killed with a
Back/Sword, rather than with any other Kind of Weapon.
She has a Crime for every Misfortune that can befall any
of her Acquaintance, and when she hears of a Robbery
that has been made, or a Murder that has been committed,
enlarges more on the Guilt of the suffering Person, than
on that of the Thief or the Assassin. In short, she is so
good a Christian, that whatever happens to her self is
a Trial, and whatever happens to her Neighbours is a
judgment.
The very Description of this Folly, in ordinary Life,
is sufficient to expose it; but when it appears in a Pomp
and Dignity of Stile, it is very apt to amuse and terrify
the Mind of the Reader. Herodotus and Plutarch very
often apply their Judgments as impertinently as the old
Woman I have before mentioned, though their Manner
of relating them makes the Folly it self appear venerable.
Indeed, most Historians, as well Christian as Pagan, have
fallen into this idle Superstition, and spoken of ill Success,
unforeseen Disasters, and terrible Events, as if they had
been let into the Secrets of Providence, and made ac/
quainted with that private Conduct by which the World
is governed. One would think several of our own
Historians in particular had many Revelations of this
Kind made to them. Our old English Monks seldom let
any of their Kings depart in Peace, who had endeavoured
w diminish the Power or Wealth of which the Ecclesiasd
tic‘ks were in those Times possessed. William the
Conqueror's Race generally found their judgments in
the New Forest, where their Father had pulled down
Churches

38 THE SPECTATOR
o. 433.
tur ay
pt. 13, I
i
- in this World virtuous Persons are very often unfortunate,
Churches and Monastries. In short, read one of the
Chronicles written by an Author of this Frame of Mind,
and you would think you were reading an History of
the Kings of Israel or judah, where the Historians were
actually inspired, and where, by a particular Scheme of
Providence, the Kings were distinguished by Judgments
or Blessings, according as they promoted Idolatry or the
Worship of the true God.
I cannot but look upon this Manner of judging upon
Misfortunes not only to be very uncharitable in regard to'
the Person whom they befall, but very presumptuous in
regard to him who is supposed to inflict them. It is a,
strong Argument for a State of Retribution hereafter, that


and vicious Persons prosperous, which is wholly re.-
pugnant to the Nature of a Being who appears infinitely
wise and good in all his Works, unless we may suppos
that such a promiscuous and undistinguishing Distributio
of Good and Evil, which was necessary for carrying o
the Designs of Providence in this Life, will be rectifie
and made amends for in another. We are not therefor
to expect that Fire should fall from Heaven in the ordinar '
Course of Providence; nor when we see triumphan
Guilt or depressed Virtue in particular Persons, that Om.
nipotence will make bare its holy Arm in the Defence 0
the one or Punishment of the other. It is sufficient that
there is a Day set a/part for the Hearing and Requiting orig}
both according to their respective Merits. ‘
The Folly of ascribing temporal Judgments to any
particular Crimes, may appear from several Considera
tions. I shall only mention two: First, That generally,
speaking, there is no Calamity or Affliction, which is
supposed to have happened as a Judgment to a viciou.
Man, which does not sometimes happen to Men of
approved Religion and Virtue. When Diagoras the
Atheist was on board one of the Athenian Ships, there
arose a very violent Tempest; upon which the Mariners
told him that it was a just Judgment upon them for havi
taken so impious a Man on board. Diagoras beg
them to look upon the Rest of the Ships that were in
same Distress, and asked them whether or no Diagoras
was




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THE SPECTATOR 41
--——-Abest virtute diserti No. 484.
Messalae, nec scit quantum Cascellius Aulus.— Hor. Monda ,
Se t.l ,
so I can't conceive the Injustice done to the Publick, if the 17 2,
Men of Reputation in this Calling would introduce such of
the young ones into Business, whose Application“ to this
Study will let them into the Secrets of it, as much as their
Modesty will hinder them from the Practice: I say, it
would be laying an everlasting Obligation upon a young
Man, to be introduc’d at first only as a Mute 'till by this
Countenance, and a Resolution to support the good Opinion
conceiv'd of him in his Betters, his Complection shall be
so well settled, that the Litigious of this Island may be
secure of his obstreperous Aid. If I might be indulged to
speak in the Stile of a Lawyer I would say, That any one
about thirty Years of Age, might make a common Motion
to the Court with as much Elegance and Propriety as the
most aged Advocates in the Hall.
I can't advance the Merit of Modesty by any Argu/
ment of my own so powerfully, as by enquiring into the
Sentiments the greatest among the Ancients of different
Ages entertain’d upon this Virtue. If we go back to the
Days of Solomon, we shall find Favour a necessary Con/
sequence to a shame/fac'd Man. Pliny. the greatest
Lawyer, and most elegant Writer of the Age he liv'd in,
in several of his Epistles is very sollicitous in recomw
mending to the Publick some young Men of his own
Profession, and very often undertakes to become an
Advocate, upon Condition that some one of these his
Favourites might be joyn’d with him, in order to produce
the Merit of such, whose Modesty otherwise would
have suppress’d it. It may seem very marvelous to a
sawcy Modern, that M ultum sanguinis, multum vere/
cundiae, multum sollicitudinis in ore ; To have the
Face first full of Blood. then the Countenance dash’d
with Modesty, and then the whole Aspect as of
one dying with Fear, when a Man begins to speak:
should be esteem'd by Pliny the necessary Quali/
fications of a fine Speaker. Shakespear also has
express'd hirnself in the same favourable Strain of
Modesty when he says,
In
42 THE SPECTATOR
O. onda ,
ept.l ,
12.
In the Modesty of fearful Duty
I read as much as from the rattling Tongue
Of sawcy and audacious Eloquence————

Now since these Authors have profess'd themselves for
the modest Man, even in the utmost Confusions of Speech
and Countenance, why should an intrepid Utterance and
a resolute Vociferation thunder so successfully in our
Courts of justice? and why shou'd that Confidence of
Speech and Behaviour which seems to acknowledge no
Superior, and to defy all Contradiction, prevail over that
Deference and Resignation with which the modest Man
implores that favourable Opinion which the other seems
to command.
As the Case at present Stands, the best Consolation that
I can administer to those who cannot get into that Stroke
of Business (as the Phrase is) which they deserve, is to
reckon every particular Acquisition of Knowledge in this
Study as a real Increase of their Fortune; and fully to
believe, that one Day this imaginary Gain will certainly
be made out by one more substantial. I wish you would
talk to us a little on this Head; you would oblige,
Sir,
Your most humble Servant.
The Author of this Letter is certainly a Man of good
Sense; but I am perhaps particular in my Opinion on
this Occasion; for I have observed, that, under the Notion
of Modesty, Men have indulged themselves in a spirit/
less Sheepishness, and been for ever lost to themselves,
their Families, their Friends, and their Country. When a
Man has taken Care to pretend to nothing but what he
may justly aim at, and can execute as well as any
other, without Injustice to any other; it is ever Want of
Breeding or Courage to be brow/beaten or elbow’d out
of his honest Ambition. I have said often, Modesty must
be an Act of the Will, and yet it always implies Self»
Denial: For if a Man has an ardent Desire to do what
is laudable for him to perform, and, from an unmanly
Bashfulness, shrinks away, and lets his Merit languish
in Silence, he ought not to be angry at the, World that a
t more
THE SPECTATOR 43
more unskilful Actor succeeds in his Part, because he has No. 484.
not Confidence to come upon the Stage himself. The Monday.
Generosity my Correspondent mentions of Pliny cannot Sfpt‘ 15'
be enough applauded. To cherish the Dawn of Merit, and
hasten its Maturity, was a Work worthy a noble Roman
and a liberal Scholar. That Concern which is described
in the Letter, is to all the World the greatest Charm
imaginable; but then the modest Man must proceed, and
shew a latent Resolution in himself : for the Admiration
of his Modesty arises from the Manifestation of his Merit.
I must confess, we live in an Age wherein a few empty
Blusterers carry away the Praise of Speaking, while a
Croud of Fellows over/stock'd with Knowledge are run
down by them: I say over/stock’d, because they certainly
are so as to their Service of Mankind, if from their very
Store they raise to themselves Ideas of Respect, and
Greatness of the Occasion, and I know not what, to
disable themselves from explaining their Thoughts. I
must confess, when I have seen Charles Frankair rise
up with a commanding Mein and Torrent of handsome
Words, talk a Mile off the Purpose, and drive down twenty
bashful Boobies of ten Times his Sense, who at the same
Time were envying his Impudence and despising his
Understanding, it has been Matter of great Mirth to
me: but it soon ended in a secret Lamentation, that the
Fountains of every Thing Praise/worthy in these Realms,
the Universities, should be so muddied with a false Sense
of this Virtue, as to produce Men capable of being so
abused. I will be bold to say, that it is a ridiculous
Education which does not qualify a Man to make his
best Appearance before the greatest Man and the finest
Woman to whom he can address himself. Were this
judiciously corrected in the Nurseries of Learning, pert
Coxcombs would know their Distance: But we must bear
with this false Modesty in our young Nobility and
Gentry, ’till they cease at Oxford and Cambridge to
grow dumb in the Study of Eloquence. T
Tuesday
44 i
THE SPECTATOR
E435
£8 a
:1 t. 16?"

No. 485.
[STEELE] Tuesday, September 16.
Nihil tam firmum est, cui periculum non sit etiam ab invalido.
‘Mr. SPECTATOR,
Y Lord Clarendon has observ’d, That few Men
have done more Harm than those who have
been thought to be able to do least; and there cannot
be a greater Error, than to believe a Man whom we see
qualified with too mean Parts to do Good, to be there/
fore incapable of doing Hurt. There is a Supply of
Malice, of Pride, of Industry, and even of Folly, in the
Weakest, when he sets his Heart upon it, that makes a
strange Progress in Mischief What may seem to the
Reader the greatest Paradox in the Reflection of the
Historian, is, I suppose, that Folly, which is generally
thought incapable of contriving or executing any Design,
should be so formidable to those whom it exerts it self to
molest. But this will appear very plain, if we remember
that Solomon says, It is as Sport to a Fool to do Mischief;
and that he might the more emphatically express the
calamitous Circumstances of him that falls under the
Displeasure of this wanton Person, the same Author adds
further, That a Stone is heavy, and the Sand weighty, but
a Fool's Wrath is heavier than them both. It is impos/
sible to suppress my own Illustration upon this Matter,
which is, That as the Man of Sagacity bestirs himself to
distress his Enemy by Methods probable and reducible to
Reason, so the same Reason will fortify his Enemy to
elude these his regular Efforts; but your Fool projects,
acts, and concludes with such notable Inconsistence, that
no regular Course of Thought can evade or counterplot
his prodigious Machinations. My Frontispiece, I believe,
may be extended to imply, That several of our Misfortunes
arise from Things, as well as Persons, that seem 'of very
little Consequence. Into what tragical Extravagances does
Shakespear hurry Othello upon the Loss of an Handkerp
chief only? And what Barbarities does Desdemona suffer
from a slight Inadvertency in regard to this fatal Trifle?
If the Schemes of all the enterprizing Spirits were to be
' ‘ carefully
THE SPECTATOR 45
carefully examined, some intervening Accident, not con/ No, 485,
siderable enough to occasion any Debate upon, or give Tuesday
'em any Apprehension of ill Consequence from it, will Sell” 16:
be found to be the Occasion of their ill Success, rather ’
than any Errour in Points of Moment and Difficulty, which
naturally engaged their maturest Deliberations. If you
go to the Levee of any great Man, you will observe him
exceeding gracious to several very insignificant Fellows;
and this upon this Maxim, That the Neglect of any Person
must arise from the mean Opinion you have of his
Capacity to do you any Service or Prejudice; and that
this calling his Sufficiency in Question, must give him
Inclination, and where this is, there never wants Strength
or Opportunity to annoy you. There is no Body so weak
of Invention, that can't aggravate or make some little
Stories to vilify his Enemy; and there are very few but
have good Inclinations to hear ’em, and ’tis infinite
Pleasure to the Majority of Mankind to level a Person
superiour to his Neighbours. Besides, in all Matter of
Controversy, that Party which has the greatest Abilities
labours under this Prejudice, that he will certainly be
supposed, upon Account of his Abilities, to have done an
Injury, when perhaps he has received one. It would
be tedious to enumerate the Strokes that Nations and
particular Friends have suffer'd from Persons very
contemptible.
I think Henry IV of France, so formidable to his
Neighbours, could no more be secur'd against the resolute
Villany of Ra villac, than Villiers, Duke of Buckingham,
could be against that of Felton. And there is no incens’d
Person so destitute, but can provide himself with a Knife
or a Pistol, if he finds Stomach to apply 'em. That
Things and Persons of no Moment should give such
powerful Revolutions to the Progress of those of the
greatest, seems a providential Disposition to baffle and
abate the Pride of humane Sufficiency; as also, to engage
the Humanity and Benevolence of Superiors to all below
'em, by letting them into this Secret, That the Stronger
depends upon the Weaker.

I am, Sir, your very humble Servant.’
' Dear
46
THE SPECTATOR
o. 4685.
U68 ay
Pt! 16' '
12:
‘Dear Sir.
I received a Letter from you some Time ago, which I
should have answered sooner, had you informed me in
ours to what Part of this Island I might have directed my
pertinence; but having been let into the Knowledge of
that Matter, this handsome Excuse is no longer serviceable.
My Neighbour Prettyman shall be the Subject of this
Letter; who falling in with the SPECTATOR’S Doctrine con/
cerning the Month of May. began from that Season to
dedicate himself to the Service of the Fair in the following
Manner. I observed at the Beginning of the Month he
bought him a new Nightwgown, either Side to be worn
outwards, both equally gorgeous and attractive; but 'till
the End of the Month I did not enter so fully into the
Knowledge of his Contrivance, as the Use of that Garment
has since suggested to me. Now you must know that all
new Cloaths raise and warm the Bearer's Imagination
into a Conceit of his being a much finer Gentleman
than he was before, banishing all Sobriety and Reflection,
and giving him up to Gallantry and Amour. Inflam’d
therefore with this Way of Thinking, and full of the
Spirit of the Month of May, did this merciless Youth
resolve upon the Business of Captivating. 'At first he
confin'd himself to his Room only, now and then ap»
pearing at his Window in his Nightagown, and pracu
tising that easy Posture which expresses the very Top
and Dignity of Languishment. It was pleasant to see
him diversify his Loveliness, sometimes obliging the
Passengers only with a SiderFace, with a Book in his
Hand; sometimes being so generous as to expose the
Whole in the Fullness of its Beauty; at the other Times,
by a judicious throwing back of his Perriwig, he would
throw in his Ears. You know he is that Sort of Person
which the Mob call a handsome jolly Man; which Ap/
pearance can’t miss of Captives in this Part of the Town.
Being emboldened by daily Success, he leaves his Room
with a Resolution to extend his Conquests; and I have
apprehended him in his Night/gown smiting in all Parts
of this Neighbourhood.
This I, being of an amorous Complexion, saw with
Indignation
Temple. Pa per/Buildings.
THE SPECTATOR 47
Indignation, and had Thoughts of purchasing a Wig in No. 485.
these Parts; into which, being at a greater Distance Tuesdav
from the Earth, I might have thrown a very liberal Mix. 187815“ 16'
ture of white Horse/hair, which would make a fairer, '
and consequently a handsomer Appearance, while my
Situation would secure me against any Discoveries.
But the Passion to the handsome Gentleman seems to
be so fixed to that Part of the Building, that it will be
extremely difficult to divert it to mine; so that I am re/
solved to stand boldly to the Complection of my own
Eye/brow, and prepare me an immense black of
the same Sort of Structure with that of my RivaL Now,
tho' by this I shall not, perhaps, lessen the Number of the
Admirers of his Complexion, I shall have a fair Chance to
divide the Passengers by the irresistible Force of mine.
I expect sudden Dispatches from you, with Advice of
the Family you are in now, how to deport my self upon
this so delicate a Conjuncture; with some comfortable
Resolutions in Favour of the handsome black Man against
the handsome fair one.

I am;
Sir,
Your most humble Servant,
N. B. He who writ this is a black Man, two Pair of
Stairs; the Gentleman of whom he writes is fair. and
one Pair of Stairs.’
‘Mr. SPECTATOR,
I only say, that it is impossible for me to say how much
I am,
Yours,
Robin Shorter.
P. S. I shall think it a little hard, if you do not take as
much Notice of this Epistle as you have of the ingenious
Mr. Short's. I am not afraid to let the World see which
is the deeper Man of the two.’
ADVERTISEMENT
48
THE 4 SPECTATOR
o. 4535.
es ay
r. 16, '
2.
ADVERTISEMENT.
London, September 15.
Whereas a young Woman on Horseback, in an
Equestrian Habit, on the 13th Instant in the Evening,
met the SPECTATOR, within a Mile and an Half of this
Town, and flying in the Face of justice, pulled off her
Hat, in which there was a Feather, with the Mein and
Air of a young Officer, saying at the same Time,
Your Servant Mr. SPEC, or Words to that Purpose;
This is to give Notice, that if any Person can discover
the Name, and Place, and Abode of the said Offender,
so as she can be brought to justice, the Informant shall
have all fitting Encouragement.
No. 486.
[STEELE] Wednesday, September 17
Audire est operae pretium, procedere recte
Qui moechos non vultis—-—.——-—Hor.
‘Mr. SPECTATOR,
THERE are very many of my Acquaintance Followers
of Socrates, with more particular Regard to that
Part of his Philosophy which we, among our selves, call
his Domesticks, under which Denomination, or Title, we
A include all the Conjugal joys and Sufferings. We have
indeed, with very great Pleasure, observed the Honour
you do the whole Fraternity of the Henwpeck'd, in placing a
that illustrious Man at our Head; and it does in a very
great Measure baffle the Raillery of pert Rogues, who
have no Advantage above us, but in that they are single.
But when you look about into the Croud of Mankind,
you will find the fair Sex reigns with greater Tyranny
over Lovers than Husbands. You shall hardly meet one
in a thousand who is wholly exempt from their
Dominion, and those that are so are capable of no Taste
of Life, and breathe and walk about the Earth as In/
significants. But I am going to desire your further
Favour in Behalf of our harmless Brotherhood, and hope
you will shew in a true Light the unmarried Hempeck'd
as well as you have done justice to us, who submit to'
the Conduct of our Wives. I am very particularly ac.-
quainted‘
THE SPECTATOR 49
quainted with one who is under entire Submission to a No. 486.
kind Girl, as he calls her; and tho' he knows I have Wednes'
been Witness both to the ill Usage he has received from $37117
her, and his Inability to resist her Tyranny, he still flea, '
pretends to make a Jest of me for a little more than
ordinary Obsequiousness to my Spouse. No longer than
Tuesday last he took me with him to visit his Mistress;
and he having, it seems, been a little in Disgrace before,
thought by bringing me with him she would constrain her
self, and insensiny fall into general Discourse with him;
and so he might break the Ice, and save himself all the
ordinary Compunctions and Mortifications she used to
make him. suffer before she would be reconciled after
any Act of Rebellion on his Part. When we came into
the Room, we were received with the utmost Coldness;
and when he presented me as Mr. Such/a/one, his very
good Friend, she just had Patience to suffer my Salutation;
but when he himself, with a very gay Air, offered to
follow me, she gave him a thundering Box on the Ear
called him pitiful poor/spirited Wretch, how durst h
see her Face? His Wig and Hat fell on different Parts 0
the Floor. She seized the too soon for him to re,
cover it, and kicking it down Stairs, threw her self into
an opposite Room, pulling the Door after her with a Force,
that you would have thought the Hinges would have
given Way. We went down, you must think, with no
very good Countenances; and as we sneaked off, and
were driving home together, he confessed to me that her
Anger was thus highly raised, because he did not think fit
to fight a Gentleman who had said she was what she was;
but, says he, a kind Letter or two, or fifty Pieces, will put
her in- Humour again. I asked him why he did not
art with her; he answered, he loved her with all the
Tenderness imaginable, and she had too many Charms to~
be abandoned for a little Quickness of Spirit. Thus does
this illegitimate Henapeck'd overlook the Hussy’s having
no Regard to his very Life and Fame, in putting him
upon an infamous Dispute about her Reputation; yet has
he the Confidence to laugh at me, because I obey my poor
Dear in keeping out of Harm’s Way, and not staying too
late from my own Family, to pass through . the Hazardsf
IV. D o

50 THE SPECTATOR
o. 486.
ednes/
aY
CPI:
of a Town full of Ranters and Debauchees. You that are
a Philosopher should urge in our Behalf, that when we
bear with a froward Woman, our Patience is preserved,
in Consideration that a Breach with her might be a
Dishonour to Children who are descended from us, and
whose Concern make us tolerate a thousand Frailties, for
Fear they should redound Dishonour upon the Innocent.
This and the like Circumstances, which carry with them
the most valuable Regards of humane Life, may be
mentioned for our long Suffering: but in the Case of
Gallants, they swallow ill Usage from one to whom they
have no Obligation, but from a base Passion which it is
mean to indulge, and which it would be glorious to
overcome.
These Sort of Fellows are very numerous, and some
have been conspicuously such without Shame; nay, they
have carried on the jest in the very Article of Death, and,
to the Diminution of the Wealth and Happiness of their
Families, in Bar of those honourably near to them, have
left immense Wealth to their Paramours. What is this
but being a Cully in the Grave! Sure this is being Hen;
peck’d with a Vengeance! But without dwelling upon
these less frequent Instances of eminent Cullyism, what
is there so common as to hear a Fellow curse his Fate
that he cannot get rid of a Passion to a Iilt, and quote
an Half/Line out of a Miscellany Poem to prove his
Weakness is natural. If they will go on thus, I have
nothing to say to it: but then let them not pretend to
be free all this While, and laugh at us poor married
Patients.
I have known one Wench in this Town carry an
haughty Dominion over her Lovers so well, that she has
at the same Time been kept by a Sea Captain in the
Streights, a Merchant in the City, a Country Gentleman
in Hampshire, and had all her Correspondences managed
by one she kept for her own Uses. This happy Man (as
the Phrase is) used to write very punctually every Post
Letters for the Mistress to transcribe. He would sit in
his Night/Gown and Slippers, and be as grave giving
an Account, only changing Names, that there was
nothing in these idle Reports they had heard of such a
Scoundrel

THE SPECTATOR 51
Scoundrel as one of the other Lovers was; and how No. 486.
could he think she cou'd condescend so low, after such a Wednes"
fine Gentleman as each of them? For the same Epistle g: i 17
said the same Thing to and of every one of them. And 171%: '
s8 er. Secretary and his Lady went to Bed with great
r er.
To be short, Mr. SPECTATOR, we Husbands shall never
make the Figure we ought in the Imaginations of young
Men growing up in the World, except you can it
about that a Man of the Town shall be as infamous a
Character as a Woman of the Town. But of all that I
have met in my Time, commend me to Betty Dual] :
She is the Wife of a Sailor, and the kept Mistress of a Man
of Quality; she dwells with the latter during the Sea/faring
of the former. The Husband asks no Questions, sees
his Apartments furnished with Riches not his, when
he comes into Port, and the Lover is as joyful as a Man
arrived at his Haven when the other puts to Sea. Betty
is the most eminently victorious of any of her Sex, and
ought to stand recorded the only Woman of the Age in
which she lives, who has possess'd at the same Time two
Abused, and two Contented—~———-’ T
N0. 487.
[ADDISONJ Thursday, September 18.
Cum prostrata sopore
Urget membra quies, 6 mens sine pondere India—Petr.

HO' there are many Authors, who have written on
Dreams, they have generally considered them only
as Revelations of what has already happened in dist
Parts of the World, or as Presages of what is to
in future Periods of Time.
I shall consider this Subject in anoth
Dreams may give us some Idea of the great
an Human Soul, and some Intimation of it
on Matter.
In the first Place, our Dreams are
that Activity which is natural to the
which it is not in the Power of Sleep
When the Man appears tired and t


52 THE SPECTATOR
o. 487. Labours of the Day, this active Part in his Composition is
hm‘SdaY' still busie and unwearied. When the Organs of Sense
‘3’18' want their due Repose and necessary Reparations, and the
' Body is no longer able to keep Pace with that spiritual
Substance to which it is united, the Soul exerts her self in
her several Faculties, and continues in Action 'till her
Partner is again qualified to bear her Company. In this
Case Dreams look like the Relaxations and Amusements
of the Soul, when she is disencumbered of her Machine,
helr Sports and Recreations, when she has laid her Charge
as e .
Inepthe Second Place, Dreams are an Instance of that
Agility and Perfection which is natural to the Faculties
of the Mind, when they are disengaged from the Body.
The Soul is clogged and retarded in her Operations,
when she acts in Conjunction with a Companion that
is so heavy and unwieldy in its Motions. But in Dreams
it is wonderful, to observe with what a Sprightliness
and Alacrity she exerts her self. The slow of Speech
make unpremeditated Harangues, or converse readil in
Languages that the are but little acquainted with. he
'Grave abound in P easantries, the Dull in Repartees, and
Points of Wit. There is not a more painful Action of
the Mind, than Invention; yet in Dreams it works with
that Base and Activity, that we are not sensible when
the Faculty is employed. For Instance, I believe every
one, some Time or other, dreams that he is reading
Papers, Books or Letters, in which Case the Invention
prompts so readily, that the Mind is imposed upon, and
mistakes its own Suggestions for the Compositions of
Q 61‘.
ll, under this Head, quote a Passage out of the
edici, in which the ingenious Author gives
of himself in his dreaming, and his waking
We are somewhat more than our selves in
d the Slumber of the Body seems to be
of the Soul. It is the Ligation of Sense,
of Reason, and our waking Concep.
the Fancies of our Sleeps. At my
dant was the watery Sign of Scorpius:
e Planetary Hour of Saturn, and, I
‘ think


THE SPECTATOR 53
think. I have a Piece of that leaden Planet in me. I am No. 487.
no way facetious, nor disposed for the Mirth and Thursday;
Galliardize of Company; yet in one Dream I can com/17°,” '
pose a whole Comedy, behold the Action, apprehend '
the jests, and laugh my self awake at the Conceits
thereof} Were my Memory as faithful as my Reason
is then fruitful, I would never study butin my Dreams 1
and this Time also would I ch use for my Devotions .'
but our grosser Memories have then so little hold of
our abstracted Understandings, that they forget the
Story, and can only relate to our awaked Souls. a
confused and broken Tale of that that has passed.—
Thus it is observed that Men sometimes, upon the Hour
of their Departure, do speak and reason above themv
selves, for then the Soul beginning to be freed from
the Ligamen ts of the Body, begins to reason like her
self, and to discourse in a Strain above Mortality.
We may likewise observe in the third Place, that the
Passions affect the Mind with greater Strength when we
are asleep, than when we are awake. joy and Sorrow
give us more vigorous Sensations of Pain or Pleasure
at this Time, than at any other. Devotion likewise, as
the excellent Author above/mentioned has hinted, is in
a very particular Manner heightned and inflamed, when
it rises in the Soul at a Time that the Body is thus
laid at Rest. Every Man's Experience will inform him
in this Matter, though it is very probable, that this may
happen differently in different Constitutions. I shall con/
clude this Head with the two following Problems, which
I shall leave to the Solution of my Reader. Supposing
a Man always happy in his Dreams, and miserable in
his waking Thoughts, and that his Life was equally
divided between them, whether would he be more happy
or miserable? Were a Man a King in his Dreams, and
a Beggar awake, and dreamt as consequentially, and in
as continued unbroken Schemes, as he thinks when
awake, whether he would be in Realit a King or
Beggar, or rather whether he wou'd not be both?
There is another Circumstance which methinks gives
us a very high Idea of the Nature of the Soul, in regard
to what passes in Dreams, I mean that innumerable
Multitude
54 THE SPECTATOR
OI
Multitude and Variety of Ideas which then arise in her.
humdaYt Were that active watchful Being only conscious of her
ept. ,
12.
own Existenc'e at such a time, what a painful Solitude
would her Hours of Sleep be? Were the Soul sensible
of her being alone in her sleeping Moments, after the
same Manner that she is sensible of it while awake, the
Time would hang very heavy on her, as it often actually
does when she dreams that she is in such a Solitude.
—-————Semperque relinqui
SoIa sibi, semper Iongam incomitata videtur
Ire viam I——-——.—Virg.
But this Observation I only make by the Way. What
I would here remark is that wonderful Power in the Soul,
of producing her own Company on these Occasions. She
converses with numberless Beings of her own Creation,
and is transported into ten thousand Scenes of her own
raising. She is herself the Theatre, the Actors, and the
Beholder. This puts me in Mind of a Saying which I am
infinitely pleased with, and which Plutarch ascribes to
Heraclitus, That all Men whilst they are awake are in
one common World .' but that each of them, when he is
asleep, is in a World of his own. The waking Man is
conversant in the World of Nature, when he sleeps he
retires to a private World that is particular to himself.
There seems something in this Consideration that inti/
mates to us a natural Grandeur and Perfection in the Soul,
which is rather to be admired than explained.
I must not omit that Argument for the Excellency of
the Soul, which I have seen quoted out of Tertullian,
namely, its Power of Divining in Dreams. That several
such Divinations have been made, none can question who
believes the Holy Writings, or who has but the least
Degree of a common historical Faith, there being in.
numerable Instances of this Nature in several Authors,
both Ancient and Modern, Sacred and Prophane. Whether
such dark Presages, such Visions of the Night proceed
from any latent Power in the Soul, during this her State
of Abstraction, or from any Communication with the
Supreme Being, or from any Operation of Subordinate
S irits, has been a cat Dispute among the Learned;
e Matter of Fact is think incontestable, and has been
looked

THE SPECTATOR 55
looked upon as such by the greatest Writers, who have No. 487.
been never suspected either of Superstition or Enthusiasm. Thurs“
I do not suppose, that the Soul in these Instances 187i? 18’
is entirely loose and unfettered from the Body: It is '
sufficient, if she is not so far sunk, and immersed in
Matter, nor intangled and perplexed in her Operations,
with such Motions of Blood and Spirits, as when she
actuates the Machine in its waking Hours. The corporeal
Union is slackened enough to give the Mind more Play.
The Soul seems gathered within her self, and recovers
that Spring which is broke and weakned, when she
operates more in concert with the Body.
The Speculations I have here made, if they are not
Arguments, they are at least strong Intimations, not only
of the Excellency of an Humane Soul, but of its Inde/
pendance on the Body; and if they do not prove, do at
least confirm these two great Points, which are estab/
lished by many other Reasons that are altogether un/
answerable.

No. 488.
[ADDISQNJ Friday, September 19.
Quanti emptae I Parvo. Quanti ergo I Octo assibus. Ebeu I
—H01'.
I FIND, by Several Letters which I receive daily, that
many of my Readers would be better pleased to pay
Three Half/Pence for my Paper, than Two/Pence. The
ingenious T: W. tells me, that I have deprived him of the
best Part of his Breakfast, for that, since the Rise of my
Paper, he is forced every Morning to drink his Dish of
Coffee by it self, without the Addition of the Spectator,
that used to be better than Lace to it. Eugenius informs _
"me very obligingly, that he never thought he should have
disliked any Passage in my Paper, but that of late there
have been two Words in every one of them, which he could
heartily wish left out, viz. Price TwoaPence. I have a
Letter from a Soap/boyler, who condoles with me very
affectionately, upon the Necessity we both lie under of
setting an higher Price on our Commodities, since the
late Tax has been laid upon them, and desiring me, when
56 THE SPECTATOR
o. 488.
Lafé,
I write next on that Subject, to speak a Word or two upon
the present Duties on Castle/Soap. But there is none of
these my Correspondents, who writes with a greater
Turn of good Sense and Elegance of Expression, than
the generous Philomedes, who advises me to value every
Spectator at Six Pence, and promises that he himself
will engage for above an Hundred of his Acquaintance,
who shall take it in at that Price.
Letters from the Female World are likewise come to
me, in great Quantities, upon the same Occasion, and as
I naturally bear a great Deference to this Part of our
Species, I am very glad to find that those, who approve
my Conduct in this Particular, are much more numerous
than those who condemn it. A large Family of Daughters
have drawn me up a very handsome Remonstrance, in
which they set forth, that their Father having refused to
take in the Spectator, since the additional Price was set
upon it, they offered him unanimously to bate him the
Article of Bread and Butter in the Tea Table Account,
rovided the Spectator might be served up to them every
Kflorning as usual. Upon this the old Gentleman, being
pleased, it seems, with their Desire of improving them
selves, has granted them the Continuance both of the
Spectator and their Bread and Butter; having given
particular Orders, that the Tea Table shall be set forth
every Morning with its Customary Bill of Fare. and
without any Manner of Defalcation. I thought my self
obliged to mention this Particular, as it does Honour to
this worthy Gentleman; and if the young Lady Laetitia,
who sent me this Account, will acquaint me with his
Name, I will insert it at length in one of my Papers, if he
desires it.
I should be very glad to find out any Expedient that
might alleviate the Expence which this my Paper brings
to any of my Readers, and, in Order to it, must propose
two Points to their Consideration. First, that if they rev
trench any the smallest Particular in their ordinary
Expence, it will easily make up the Half/Penny a Day,
which we have now under Consideration. Let a Lady
sacrifice but a single Ribband to her Morning Studies, and
it will be sufficient: Let a Family burn but a Canlgleha
, t
THE SPECTATOR 57
‘ Night less than the usual Number, and they may take in No. 488,
the Spectator without detriment to their private Affairs. Friday.
In the next Place, if my Readers will not go to the ‘9’
Price of buying my Papers by Retail, let them have '
Patience, and they may buy them in the Lump, without
the Burthen of a Tax upon them. My Speculations,
when they are sold single, like Cherries upon the Stick,
are Delights for the Rich and Wealthy; after some time
they come to Market in greater Quantities, and are every
ordinary Man's Money. The Truth of it is, they have a
certain Flavour at their first Appearance, from several
accidental Circumstances of Time, Place and Person, which
they may lose if they are not taken early: but in
Case every Reader is to consider, whether it is not better
for him to be half a Year behind Hand with the fashionable
and polite Part of the World, than to strain himself beyond
his Circumstances. My Bookseller has now about Ten
Thousand of the Third and Fourth Volumes, which he is
ready to publish, having already disposed of as large an
Edition both of the first and Second Volume. As he is a
Person whose Head is very well turned to his Business,
he thinks they would be a very proper Present to be made
to Persons at Christenings, Marriages, visiting Days, and
q the like joyful Solemnities, as several other Books are
frequently given at Funerals. He has printed them in
such a little portable Volume, that many of them may be
rang'd together upon a single Plate, and is of Opinion,
that a Salver of Spectators would be as acceptable an
Entertainment to the Ladies, as a Salver of Sweetmeats.
I shall conclude this Paper with an Epigram lately sent
to the Writer of the Spectator, after having returned my
Thanks to the ingenious Author of it.
‘Sir,
Having heard the following Epigram very much coma
mended, I wonder that it has not yet had a Place in any
of your Papers: I think the Suffrage of our Poet/laureat
should not be overlooked, which shews the Opinion he
entertains of your Paper, whether the Notion he proceeds
upon be true or false. I make bold to convey it to you,
not knowing if it has yet come to your Hands. 0
n
58 THE SPECTATOR
o. 488.
rida
ept.
712.
ii.
On the SPECTATOR.
By Mr. TATE
" ’iusgue _ 6' idem
' HQr:
When first the Tatler to a Mute was turn'd,
Great Britain for her Censor's Silence mourn'd.
Robb'd of his sprightly Beams she wept the Night,
Till the Spectator rose, and blaz'd as bright.
So the first Man the Sun's first Setting view’d,
And sigh 'd, 'till circling Day his joys renew'd 1
Yet doubtful how that second Sun to name,
Whether a bright Successor, or the same.
So we: but now from this Suspence are freed}

Nasceri.

Since all agree, who both with judgment read,
'Tis the same Sun, and does himself succeed.
O
No. 489.
[ADDISON]
——Ba.8vppe('ra.o Five. o-Be'vos ’flxeuvoio.—Hom.
‘Sir,
‘ IPON Reading your Essay, concerning the Pleasures
of the Imagination, I find, among the 'three Sources
of those Pleasures which you have discovered, that Great,
ness is one. This has suggested to me the Reason why,
of all Objects that I have ever seen, there is none which
affects my Imagination so much as the Sea or Ocean. I
cannot see the Heavings of this prodigious Bulk of
Waters, even in a Calm, without a very pleasing
Saturday, September 20.
YAstonishment, but when it is worked up in a Tempest,
so that the Horizon on every Side is nothing but foaming
Billows and floating Mountains, it is impossible to describe
the agreeable Horrour that arises from such a Prospect. A
troubled Ocean, to a Man who sails upon it, is, I think, the
biggest Object that he can see in Motion, and conse/
quently gives his Imagination one of the highest Kinds of
Pleasure that can arise from Greatness. I must confess,
it is impossible for me to survey this World of fluid
Matter
THE SPECTATOR 59
Matter, without thinking on the Hand that first poured it No. 489.
out, and made a proper Channel for its Reception. Such SainaY
an Object naturally raises in my Thoughts the Idea of an 57‘3" 20'
Almighty Being, and convinces me of his Existence as '
much as a metaphysical Demonstration. The Imagina/
tion prompts the Understanding, and by the Greatness
of the sensible Object, produces in it the Idea of a Being
who is neither circumscribed by Time nor Space.
As I have made several Voyages upon the Sea, I have
often been tossed in Storms, and on that Occasion have
frequently reflected on the Descriptions of them in ancient
Poets. I remember Longinus highly recommends one
in Homer, because the Poet has not amused himself with
little Fancies upon the Occasion, as Authors of an inferiour
Genius, whom he mentions, had done, but because he has
gathered together those Circumstances which are the
most apt to terrify the Imagination, and which really
happen in the Raging of a Tempest. It is for the same
Reason, that I prefer the following Description of a Ship
in a Storm, which the Psalmist has made, before any
other I have ever met with. They that go down to
the Sea in Ships, that do Business in great Waters:
These see the Works of the Lord, and his Wonders
in the Deep. For he commandeth and raiseth the
stormy Wind, which lifteth up the Waters thereof.
They mount up to the Heaven, they go down again
to the Depths, their Soul is melted because of trouble.
They reel to and fro, and stagger like a drunken Man,
and are at their IVit's End. Then they cry unto the
Lord in their trouble, and he bringeth them out of
their Distresses. He maketh the Storm a Calm, so
that the Waves thereof are still. Then they are glad,
because they be quiet, so he bringeth them unto their
desired Haven.
By the Way, how much more comfortable, as well as
rational, is this System of thePsalmist, than the Pagan
Scheme in Virgil, and other Poets, where one Deity is
represented as raising a Storm, and another as laying it.
Were we only to consider the Sublime in this Piece of
Poetry, what can be nobler than the Idea it gives us, of
the Supreme Being thus raising a Tumult among the
Elements
60 THE SPECTATOR

O) 4 8 9n
turday,
at. 20,
Elements, and recovering them out of their Confusion,
thus troubling and becalming Nature? -
Great Painters do not only give us Landskips of
Gardens, Groves, and Meadows, but very often employ
their Pencils upon Sea/Pieces: I could wish you would
follow their Example. If this small Sketch may deserve
a Place among your Works, I shall accompany it with a
Divine Ode, made by a Gentleman upon the Conclusion
of his Travels.
I.
How are thy Servants blest, O Lord!
- How sure is their Defence!
Eternal Wisdom is their Guide,
Their Help Omnipotence.
_ II.‘
In foreign Realms, and. Lands remote,
Supported by Thy Care,
Through burning Climes I pass 'd unh art,
And breath'd in tainted Air. '
III.
Thy Mercy sweetned ev'ry Soil,
Made ev’ry Region please;
The hoary Alpine Hills it warm'd,
And smoak'd the Tyrrhene Seas :
IV.
Think, O my Soul, devoutly think,
How with affrigh ted Eyes
Thou saw’st the wide extended Deep
In all its Horrors rise!
V.
Confusion dwelt in ev’ry Pace,
And Fear in ev'ry Heart; .
When Waves on Waves, and Gulphs in Gulphs,
O'ercame the Pilot's Art. VL
THE SPECTATOR 61
, go. 439.
atur a'
VL ’ Seft. 20,,"
Yet then from all my Gnefs, O Lord, 17 .
Thy Mercy set me free,
Whilst in the Confidence of Pray’r
My Soul took Hold on Thee!
VII.
' For tho' in dreadful Whirles we hung
‘ High on the broken Wave, '
I knew Thou wert not slow to hear,
‘ lVor Impotent to save.
VIIL
The Storm was laid, the Winds retir'd,
Obedient to Thy Will I
The Sea, that roar’d at Thy Command,
At Thy Command was still. '
IX.
In Midst of Dangers, Fears and Death,
Thy Goodness I’ll adore,
And praise Thee for Thy Mercies past,
And humbly hope for more.
X.
My Life. if Thou preserv’st my Life,
Thy Sacrifice shall be ;
And Death, if Death must be my Doom,
Shall join my Soul to Thee! '
No. 490.
[STEELE] Monday, September 22.
‘

Domus 6' placens
1—H”!
HAVE very long entertained an Ambition to make
the Word Wife the most agreeable and delightful
,Name in Nature. If it be not so in it self, all the wiser
- Part of Mankind from the beginning of the World to this
' Day
62 THE SPECTATOR

No. 490. Day has consented in an Error: But our Unhappiness in
Mmda ' England has been, that a few loose Men of Genius for
871% 2 ' Pleasure, have turned it all to the Gratification of una
' governed Desires, in Despite of good Sense, Form, and
Order; when, in Truth, any Satisfaction beyond the
Boundaries of Reason, is but a Step towards Madness and
Folly. But is the Sense of Joy and Accomplishment of
Desire no Way to be indulged or attained? and have we
Appetites given us to be at all gratify’d? Yes certainly.
Marriage is an Institution calculated for a constant Scene of
as much Delight as our Being is capable of. Two Persons
who have chosen each other out of all the Species, with
Design to be each other's' mutual Comfort and Entertain;
ment, have in that Action bound themselves to be good.
humour'd, affable, discreet, forgiving, patient, and joyful,
with Respect to each other's Frailties and Perfections, to
the End of their Lives. The Wiser of the Two (and it
always happens one of them is such) will, for her or his
own Sake, keep Things from Outrage with the utmost ~
Sanctity. When this Union is thus preserv'd (as I have
often said) the most indifferent Circumstance administers
Delight. Their Condition is an endless Source of new
Gratifications. The marry’d Man can say, If I am un/
acceptable to all the World beside, there is one, whom I
entirely love, that will receive me with joy and Transport,
and think her self obliged to double her Kindness and
Caresses of me from the Gloom with which she sees me
overcast. I need not dissemble the Sorrow of my Heart
to be agreeable there, that very Sorrow quickens her
Affection. ' '
This Passion towards each other, when once well fixed,
enters into the very Constitution, and the Kindness flows
as easily and silently as the Blood in the Veins. When
this Affection is enjoyed in the most sublime Degree, un/
skilful Eyes see nothing of it; but when it is subject to
be changed, and has an Allay in it that may make it end
in Distaste, it is apt to break into Rage, or overflow into
Fondness, before the Rest of the World.
Uxander and Viramira are amorous and young, and
have been married these two Years; yet do they so much
distinguish each other in Company, that in your Com
versation

THE SPECTATOR ‘ 63
versation with the dear Things you are still put to a Sort No. 490‘
of Cross/Purposes. Whenever you address your self Mondaj
in ordinary Discourse to Viramz'ra, she turns her Head 1876115“ 2
another Way, and the Answer is made to the dear '
Uxander: If you tell a merry Tale, the Application is
still directed to her Dear; and when she should commend
you, she says to him, as if he had spoke it, That is, my
Dear, so pretty—This puts me in Mind of what I have
somewhere read in the admired Memoirs of the famous
Cervantes, where, while honest Sancho Panga is putting
some necessary humble Question concerning Rozinante,
his Supper, or his Lodgings, the Knight of the sorrowful
Countenance is ever improving the harmless lowly Hints
of his Squire to the poetical Conceit, Rapture, and Flight,
in Contemplation of the dear Dulcinea of his Affections.
On the other side, Dictamnus and Moria are ever
squabbling, and you may observe them all the Time they
are in Company in a State of Impatience. As Uxander and
Viramira wish you all gone, that they may be at Freedom
for Dalliance, Dictamn us and Moria wait your Absence,
that they may speak their harsh Interpretations on each
other's Words and Actions during the Time you were
with them.
It is certain that the greater Part of the Evils attending
this Condition of Life arises from Fashion. Prejudice in
this Case is turned the wrong Way, and instead of
expecting more Happiness than we shall meet with in it,
we are laughed into a Prepossession, that we shall be
disappointed if we hope for lasting Satisfactions.
With all Persons who have made good Sense the Rule
of Action, Marriage is describ’d as the State capable of the
highest humane Felicity. Tully has Epistles full of
affectionate Pleasure, when he writes to his Wife or
speaks of his Children. But above all the Hints of this
' Kind I have met with in Writers of ancient Date, I am
gleased with an Epigram of Martial, in Honour of the
eauty of his Wife Cleopatra. Commentators say it was
written the Day after his Weddmngight. When his
Spouse was retired to the Bathingzroom in the Heat of the
Day, he, it seems, came in upon her when she was just
going into the Water. To her Beauty and Carriage £11;
64.
“THE SPECTATOR

490.
ino'nda ,
t2,
0
this Occasion we owe the following Epigram, which I
shewed my Friend WILL HONEYCOMB in French, who has
translated it as follows, without understanding the Original.
i2 exdpect it will please the English better than the Latin
ea er.
Asham'd and wanton, of Embrace afraid,
Fled to the Streams, the Streams my Fair betray'd.
To 111 fond Eyes she all transparent stood,
She blush’d, I smil'd at the slight covering Flood.
Thus through the Glass the lovely Lilly glows,
Thus through the ambient Gem shines forth the Rose.
I saw new Charms, and plung’d to seize my Store:
Kisses I snatch 'd, the Waves prevented more.
When my bright Consort, now nor Wife nor Maid}
My Friend would not allow that this luscious Account
could be given of a Wife, and therefore used the Word
Consort, which, he learnedly said, would serve for a
Mistress as well, and give a more gentlemanly Turn to
_ the Epigram. But, under Favour of him and all. other
" such fine Gentlemen, I cannot be perswaded but that the
Passion a Bridegroom has for a virtuous young Woman,
will, by little and little, grow into Friendship, and then
it is ascended to an higher Pleasure than it was in its first
Fervour. 'Without this happens, he is a very unfortunate
Man who has enter’d into this State, and left the,Habitudes
of Life he might have enioy’d with a faithful Friend.
But when the Wife proves capable of filling serious as
well as Joyous Hours, she brings Happiness unknown to
Friendship it self. Spencer speaks of each Kind of Love
with great Justice, and attributes the highest Praise to
Friendship: and indeed there is no disputing that Point,
but by making that Friendship take Place between two
' married Persons.
Hard is the Doubt, and difficult to deem,
When all three Kinds of Love together meet,
And do dispart the Heart with Power extreme,
Whether shall weigh the Ballance down; to wit,
The clear Affection unto Kindred sweet,
Or raging Fire of Love to Womenlrind,
Or Zeal of Friends, combin’d b Virtues meet.
But, of them all, the Band of irtuous Mind,
Methinks the gentle Heart should most assured bind. F
1 Of
THE SPECTATOR
65
For natural Affection soon doth cease,
And quenched is with Cupid 's greater Flame;
But faithful Friendship doth them both suppress,
And them with mastering Discipline does tame,
Through Thoughts aspiring to eternal Fame.
For as the Soul doth rule the Earthly Mass,
And all the Service of the Body frame:
So Love of Soul doth Love of Body pass,
No less than perfect Gold surmounts the meanest Brass.
No. 491.
[STEELE-1 Tuesday, September 23.
Digna satis fortuna revisit.-—Virg.
T is common with me to run from Book to Book to
exercise my Mind with many Objects, and qualify my
self for m daily Labours. After an Hour spent in this
loitering ay of Reading, something will remain to be
Food to the Imagination. The Writ' s that please me
most on such Occasions are Stories, or the Truth of
which there is good Authority. The Mind of a Man is
naturally a Lover of Justice, and when we read a Story
wherein a Criminal is overtaken, in whom there is no
Quality which is the Object of Pity, the Soul enjoys a
certain Revenge for the Offence done to its Nature in the
wicked Actions committed in the preceding Part of the
History. This will be better understood by the Reader
from the following Narration it self, than from any Thing
which I can say to introduce it.

When Charles Duke of Burgundy, sirnamed The Bold,
reigned over spacious Dominions now swallowed up by
the Power of France, he heaped many Favours and Honours
upon Claudius Rhynsa ult a German, who had served him
in his Wars against the Insults of his Neighbours. A great
Part of Zealand was at that Time in subjection to that
Dukedom. The Prince himself was a Person of singular
Humani and Justice. Rh nsa ult, with no other real
Qualityt an Courage, had issimulation enough to pass
upon his enerous and unsuspicious Master for a Person
of blunt onesty and Fidelity, without any Vice that
could bias him from the Execution of Justice. His High/
IV. E ness
No. 49 _
Monda
Sept. 2
1712.
66 THE SPECTATOR
. 431.
es ay,
t. 23,
2.
ness prepossessed to his Advantage, upon the Decease of
the Governour of his chief Town of Zealand, gave
Rhynsault that Command. He was not long seated in
that Government, before he cast his Eyes upon Sapphire,
a Woman of exquisite Beauty, the wife of Paul Danvelt,
a wealthy Merchant of the City under his Protection and
Government. Rhynsault was a Man of a warm Constitu/
tion, and violent Inclination to Women, and not unskilled
in the soft Arts which win their Favour. He knew what
it was to enjoy the Satisfactions which are reaped from
the Possession of Beauty, but was an utter Stranger to the
Decencies, Honours, and Delicacies, that attend the Passion
towards them in elegant Minds. However he had so
much of the World, that he had a great Share of the Law
guage which usually prevails upon the weaker Part of
that Sex, and he could with his Tongue utter a Passion
with which his Heart was wholly untouched. He was
one of those brutal Minds which can be gratified with the
Violation of Innocence and Beauty, without the least Pity,
Passion, or Love to that with which they are so much
delighted. Ingratitude is a Vice inseparable to a lustful
Man; and the Possession of a Woman by him who has
no Thought but allaying a Passion painful to himself, is
necessarily followed by Distaste and Aversion. Rhynw
sa ult was resolved to accomplish his Will on the Wife
of Danvelt, left no Arts untried to get into a Familiarity
at her House; but she knew his Character and Disposi/
tion too well, not to shun all Occasions that might ensnare
her into his Conversation. The Governour despairing of
Success by ordinary Means, apprehended and imprisoned
her Husband, under Pretence of an Information that
he was guilty of a Correspondence with the Enemies
of the Duke, to betray the Town into their Possession.
This Design had its desired Effect; and the Wife of the
unfortunate Danvelt, the Day before that which was ap»
pointed for his Execution, presented her self in the Hall
of the Governour's House, and as he passed through the
Apartment, threw her self at his Feet, and holding his
Knees, beseeched his Mercy. Rhynsa uIt beheld her with
a dissembled Satisfaction, and assuming an Air of Thought
and Autliprity, he bid her arise, and told her she must
follow
THE SPECTATOR 67
follow him to his Closet; and asking her whether she No. 491.
knew the Hand of the Letter he pulled out of his Pocket, Tuesda
went from her, leaving this Admonition aloud, If you 2
Would serve your Husband, you must give me an '
Account of all you know Without Prevarication; for
every Body is satisfied he was too fond of you to be able
to hide from you the Names of the Rest of the Con;
spirators, or any other Particulars whatsoever. He
went to his Closet, and soon after the Lady was sent for
to an Audience. The Servant knew his Distance when
Matters of State were to be debated; and the Governour,
laying aside the Air with which he had appeared in
Publick, began to be the Supplicant, to rally an Affliction,
which it was in her Power easily to remove. She easily
perceiv’d his Intention, and bathed in Tears, began to
deprecate so wicked a Design, and relieve an innocent
Man from his Imprisonment. Lust, like Ambition, takes in
all the Faculties of the Mind and Body into its Service and
Subjection. Her becoming Tears, her honest Anguish,
the Wringing of her Hands, and the many Changes of
her Posture and Figure in the Vehemence of Speaking,
were but so many Attitudes in which he beheld her
Beauty, and further Incentives of his Desire. All
Humanity was lost in that one Appetite, and he signified
to her in so many plain Terms, That he was unhappy
'till he had possess’d her, and Nothing less should be the
Price of her Husband’s Life; and she must, before the
following Noon, pronounce the Death or Enlargement of
Danvelt. After this Notification, when he saw Sapphira
enough again distracted to make the Subject of their Dis/
course to common Eyes appear different from what it
was, he called Servants to conduct her to the Gate. Loaded
with insupportable Affliction, she immediately repairs to
her Husband, and having signified to his Goalers, That
she had a Proposal to make to her Husband from the
Governour, she was left alone with him, reveal'd to him
all that had pass'd, and represented the endless Conflict
she was in between Love to his Person, and Fidelity to
his Bed. It is easy to imagine the sharp Affliction this
honest Pair was in upon such an Incident, in Lives not ,
used to any but ordinary Occurrences. The Man was
bridled


68 THE SPECTATOR
. 4691. '
€S a
t. 25}?
2!
bridled by Shame from Speaking what his Fear prompted
upon so near an Approach of Death; but let fall Words
that signify’d to her, He should not think her polluted
though she had not yet confess'd to him that the
Governour had violated her Person, since he knew her
Will had no Part in the Action. She parted from him
with this oblique Permission to save a Life he had not
Resolution enough to resign for the Safety of his Honour.
The next Morning the unhappy Sapphira attended
the Governour, and being led into a remote Apart»
ment, submitted to his Desires. Rhynsault commended
her Charms, claim'd a Familiarity after what pass’d
between them, and with an Air of Gayety, in the
Language of a Gallant, bid her return, and take her
Husband out of Prison: But, continued he, my Fair One
must not be offended that I have taken Care he should
not be an Interruption to our future Assignations. These
last Words foreboded what she found when she came
to the Goal, her Husband executed by the Order of
Rhynsa ult.
It was remarkable that the Woman, who was full of
Tears and Lamentations during the whole Course of
her Affliction, utter’d neither Sigh or Complaint, but
stood fixed with Grief at this Consummation of her
Misfortunes. She betook her self to her Abode, and,
after having in Solitude paid her Devotions to him who is
the Avenger of Innocence, she repair’d privately to Court.
Her Person, and a certain Grandeur of Sorrow negligent
of Forms, ain'd her Passage into the Presence of the
Duke her overeign. As soon as she came into the
Presence, she broke forth into the following Words;
Behold, O mighty Charles, a Wretch weary of Life,
though it has always been spent with Innocence and
Virtue, It is not in your Power to redress my Injuries,
but it is to avenge them. And if the Protection of
the Distressed, the Punishment of Oppressors, is a
Task worthy a Prince, I bring the Duke of Bur undy
ample Matter for doing Honour to his own great ame,
and wiping Infamy off of mine. , '
When she had spoke this, she deliver'd the Duke a
Paper reciting her Story. He read it with all the
, Emotions


THE SPECTATOR 69
Emotions that Indignation and Pity could raise in a No. 491.
Prince jealous of his Honour in the Behaviour of his Tuesda
Officers, and Prosperity of his Subjects. 19%“ 2
~ Upon an appointed Day Rhynsault was sent for to Court, '
and in the Presence of a few of the Council, confronted
by Sapphira, the Prince asking, Do you know that
Lady! Rhynsault, as soon as he could recover his
Surprize, told the Duke he would marry her, if His
Highness would please to think that a Reparation. The
Duke Seem’d contented with this Answer, and stood by
during the immediate Solemnization of the Ceremony. At
the Conclusion of it he told Rhynsa ult, Th us far you have
done as constrain'd by my Authority: I shall not be
satisfy’d of your kind Usage of her, without you sign
a Gift of your whole Estate to her'after your Decease.
To the Performance of this also the Duke was a Witness.
When these two Acts were executed, the Duke turned to
the Lady, and told her, It now remains for me to put you
in quiet Possession of what your Husband has so bounti/
fully bestowed on you; and ordered the immediate
Execution of Rhynsault. '
We. 492.
[STEELE] Wednesday, September 24.
Quicquid est boni moris levitate extinguitur.—Sen.
‘ Dear Mr. SPECTATOR, Tunbridge, Sept. 18.
I AM a young Woman of Eighteen years of Age, and,
I do assure you, a Maid of unspotted Reputation,
founded upon a very careful Carriage in all my Looks,
Words and Actions. At the same Time I must own to
you, that it is with much Constraint to Flesh and Blood
that my Behaviour is so strictly irreproachable; for I am
naturally addicted to Mirth, to Gayety, to a free Air, to
Motion and Gadding. Now what gives me a great Deal
of Anxiety, and is some Discouragement in the Pursuit of
Virtue, is, that the young Women who run into greater
Freedoms with the Men are more taken Notice of than I
am. The Men are such unthinking Sots, that they do not
prefer her who restrains all her Passions and Affections, and
keeps
70 THE SPECTATOR
,1 fednes/
v
pf. 24,
.2.
keeps much within the Bounds of what is lawful, to her
who goes to the utmost Verge of Innocence, and parlies
at the very Brink of Vice, whether she shall be a Wife or
a Mistress. But I must appeal to your spectatorial Wisdom,
who, I find, have passed very much of your Time in the
Study of Woman, whether this is not a most unreasonable
Proceeding. I have read somewhere, that Hobbes of
Malmesbury asserts, That continent Persons have more-
of what they contain, than those who give a Loose to
their Desires. According to this Rule, let there be equal
Age, equal Wit, and equal good Humour, in the Woman
of Prudence, and her of Liberty; What Stores has he to
expect who takes the former? What Refuse must he be
contented with who chuses the latter? Well, but I sate
down to write to you to vent my Indignation against
several pert Creatures who are address'd to and courted in
this Place, while poor I, and two or three like me, are
wholly unregarded.
Ever one of these affect gaining the Hearts of your
Sex: his is generally attempted by a particular Manner
of carrying themselves with Familiarity. Glycera has
a dancing Walk, and keeps Time in her ordinary Gate.
Chloe, her Sister, who is unwilling to interrupt her Cone
quests, comes into the Room before her with a familiar Run.
Dulcissa takes Advantage of the Approach of the Winter,
and has introduced a very pretty Shiver, closing up her
Shoulders, and shrinkinig' ' as she moves. All t are in
this Mode carry their ans between both Hands before
them. Dulcissa her self, who is Author of this Air, adds the
pretty Run to it; and has also, when she is in very good
Humour, a taking Familiarity in throwing her self into
the’lowest Seat in the Room, and letting her hoop'd Petti/
coats fall with a lucky Decency about her. I know she
practises this Way of sitting down in her Chamber; and
indeed she does it as well as you may have seen an Actress
fall down dead in a Tragedy. Not the least Indecency in
her Posture. If you have observ'd what pretty Carcasses
are carry'd off at the End of a Verse at the Theatre, it will
ive you a Notion how Dulcissa plumps into her Chair.
ere’s a little Country Girl that’s very cunning, that makes
her Use of being young and unbred, and outdoes the
Insnarers
THE SPECTATOR 71
Insnarers, who are almost twice her Age. The Air that No. 492.
she takes is to come into Company after a Walk, and is Waffles:
very successfully out of Breath upon Occasion. Her Saya 24
Mother is in the Secret, and calls her Romp, and then looks 17a 2, ’
round to see what young Men stare at her.
It would take up more than can come into one of your
Papers, to enumerate all the particular Airs of the younger
Company in this Place. But I cannot omit Dulceorella,
whose Manner is the most indolent imaginable, but still
as watchful of Conquest as the busiest Virgin among us.
She has a peculiar Art of staring at a young Fellow, 'till
' she sees she has got him, and inflamed him by so much
Observation. When she sees she has him, and he begins
to toss his Head upon it, she is immediately short/sighted,
and labours to observe what he is at a Distance with her
Eyes half shut. Thus the Captive that thought her first
struck, is to make very near Approaches, or be wholly dis/
regarded. This Artifice has done more Execution than
all the Ogling of the rest of the Women here, with the
unnost Variety of half Glances, attentive Heedlessnesses,
childish Inadvertencies, haughty Contempts, or artificial
Oversights. After I have said thus much of Ladies among
us who fight thus regularly, I am to complain to you of a
Set of familiar Romps, who have broken through all
common Rules, and have thought of a very effectual Way
of shewing more Charms than all of us. These, Mr.
SPECTATOR, are the Swingers. You are to know these care/
less pretty Creatures are very Innocents again; and it is
to be no Matter what they do, for ’tis all harmless Freedom.
They get on Ropes, as you must have seen the Children,
and‘ are swung by their Men Visitants. The Jest is, that
Mr. Such/aaone can name the Colour of Mrs. Suchaa/one's
stockings: and she tells him, he is a lying Thief, so he is,
and full of Roguery: and she’ll lay a Wager, and her
Sister shall tell the Truth if he says right, and he can’t tell
what Colour her Garters are of. In this D'version there
are very many pretty Shrieks, not so m ch for fear of
falling, as that their Petticoats should unty: For there is a
great Care had to avoid Improprieties: a the Lover who
swings the Lady, is to tye her Cloaths v . y close with his
Hatband before she admits him to thr/‘Ziw up her Heels

Now
72 THE SPECTATOR
. 492. '
ednes/
vi. 24,
2.
Now, Mr SPECTATOR, except you can note these Wanton/
, nesses in their Beginnings, and bring us sober Girls into
Observation, there is no Help for it, we must swim with
the Tide, the Cocquets are too powerful a Party for us. To
look into the Merit of a regular and wellwbehaved Woman,
is a slow Thing. A loose trivial Song gains the Affec/
tions, when a wise Homily is not attended to. There is
no other Way but to make War upon them, or we must
go over to them. As for my Part, I will show all the
World it is not for Want of Charms that I stand so long
unasked; and if you do not take Measures for the imw
mediate Redress of us Ri ids, as the Fellows calls us, I can
move with a speaking ein, can look significantly, can
lisp, can trip, can loll, can start, can blush, can rage, can
weep, if I must do it, and can be frighted, as agreeably as
any She in England. All which is humbly submitted to
your spectatorial Consideration with all Humility, by
Your most humble Servant
T Matilda Mohair.’_
No. 493.
[STEELE] Thursday, September 25.
Qualem commendes, etiam atque etiam adspice, ne mox
Incutrant aliena tibi peccata pudorem.-—Hor.
T is no unpleasant Matter of Speculation to consider
the recommendatory Epistles that pass round this
Town from Hand to Hand, and the Abuse People put
upon one another in that Kind. It is indeed come to that
Pass, that instead of being the Testimony of Merit in the
_ Person recommended, the true Reading of a Letter of this
Sort is, The Bearer hereof is so uneasie to me, that it
will be an Act of Charity in you to take him off my
Hands; whether you prefer him or not it is all one, for
I have no Manner of Kindness for him, or Obligation
to him or his; and do what you please as to that.
As negligent at, Men are in this Respect, a Point of Honour
is concerned i it," and there is Nothing a Man should
be more asham d of, than passing a worthless Creature
into the Service or Interests of a Man who has never
injured you. Th \Women indeed are a little too keetfi in
' eir
THE SPECTATOR 73
their Resentments, to trespass often this Way: But you No. 493.
shall sometimes know that the Mistress and the Maid Thursda
shall quarrel, and give each other very free Language, and zt' 25'
at last the Lady shall be pacified to turn her out of Doors, '
and give her a very good Word to any Body else. Hence
it is that you see, in a year‘ and half's Time, the same
Face a Domestick in all Parts of the Town. Good/breed/
ing and Good/nature lead People in a great Measure to
this Injustice: When Suitors of no Consideration will
have Confidence enough to press upon their Superiors,
those in Power are tender of speaking the exceptions
they have against them, and are mortgaged into Promises
out of their Impatience of Importunity. In this latter
Case, it would be a very useful Enquiry to know the
History of Recommendations: There are, you must know,
certain Abettors of this Way of Torment who make it
a Profession to manage the Affairs of Candidates: These
Gentlemen let out their Impudence to their Clients, and
supply any defective Recommendation, by informing how
such and such a Man is to be attacked. They will tell
you, get the least Scrap from Mr. such a one, and leave the
Rest to them. When one of these Undertakers have
our Business in Hand, you may be sick, absent, in
own or Country, and the Patron shall be worr ed, or
you prevail. I remember to have been shewn a ntle/
man, some Years ago, who punish'd a whole People for
their Facility in giving their Credentials. This Person
had belonged to a Regiment which did Duty in the West
Indies, and by the Mortality of the Place happened to be
commanding Officer in the Colony. He oppressed his
Subjects with great Frankness till he became sensible that
he was heartily hated by every Man under his Command.
When he had carried his Point, to be thus detestable, in a
pretended Fit of Dishumour, and feigned Uneasiness of
living where he found he was so universally unaccept.
able, he communicated to the chief Inhabitants a Design
he had to return for England, provided they would give
him ample Testimonials of their Approbation. The
Planters came into it to a Man, and in Proportion to his
deserving the quite contrary, the Words Justice, Genera
,osity, and Courage were inserted in his Commission, not
I. ~ omitting

74 THE SPECTATOR
. 493. omitting the general Goodaliking of People of all Con/
hm‘sda‘l. ditions in the Colony.
The Gentleman returns for
O
25' England, and within few Months after came back to
them their Governour on the Strength of their own
Testimonials.
Such a Rebuke as this cannot indeed happen to easy
Recommenders, in the ordinary Course of Things from
one Hand to another; but how would a Man bear to
have it said to him, The Person Itook into Confidence
on the Credit you gave him, has proved false, unjust, and
hfas 1:11;: answered any Way the Character you gave me
o .
I cannot but conceive very good Hopes of that Rake
jack Toper of the Temple, for an honest Scrupulous/
ness in this Point. A Friend of his meeting with a
Servant that had formerly lived with jack, and having a
Mind to take him, sent to him to know what Faults the
Fellow had, since he could not please such a careless
Fellow as he was. His answer was as follows.
‘ Sir,
Thomas that lived with me was turned away because
he was too good for me. You know I live in Taverns;
he is an orderly sober Rascal, and thinks much to sleep in
an Entry 'till Two in a Morning. He told me one Day
when he was dressing me, that he wondered I was not
dead before now, since I went to Dinner in the Evening,
and went to Supper at two in the Morning. We were
I coming down Essex/street one Night a little flustered, and
I was giving him the Word to alarm the Watch; he had
the Impudence to tell me it was against the Law. You
that are Married, and live one Day after another the same
Way, and so on the whole Week, I dare say will like him,
and he will be glad to have his Meat in due Season: The
Fellow is certainly very Honest. My Service to your
Lady.
Yours, I. T.’
Now this was very fair Dealing. jack knew very well,
that tho' the Love of Order made a Man very aukward in
his Equipage, it was a valuable Quality among the queer
, People
THE SPECTATOR , 75
People who live by Rule; and had too much good Sense No. 493.
and good Nature to let the Fellow starve, because he was ThWSAan
not fit to attend his Vivacities. ‘ lsfg' 25'
I shall end this Discourse with a Letter of Recom/ '
mendation from Horace to Claudius Nero. You will see,
in that Letter, a slowness to ask" a Favour, a strong Reason
for being unable to den his good Word any longer, and
that it is a Service to the erson to whom he recommends,
to comply with what is asked; All which are necessary
Circumstances, both in justice and Good/breeding, if a
Man would ask so as to have Reason to complain of a
Denial; and indeed a Man should not in Strictness ask
otherwise. In hopes the Authority of Horace, who perw
fectl understood how to live with great Men, may have a
goo Effect towards amending this Facility in People of
Condition, and the Confidence of those who apply to them
without Merit, I have translated the Epistle.
‘ To CLAUDIUS NERO.
Sir,
Septimius, who waits upon you with this, is very well
acquainted with the Place you are pleased to allow me in
your Friendship. For when he beseeches me to re/
commend him to your Notice, in such a Manner as to
be received by you, who are delicate in the Choice of
your Friends and Domesticks, he knows our Intimacy,
and understands my Ability to serve him better than I do
my self. I have defended my self against his Ambition
to be yours as long as I possibly could; but fearing the '
Imputation of hiding my Power in you out of mean and
selfish Considerations, I am at last prevailed upon to give
you this Trouble. Thus, to avoid the Appearance of a
reater Fault, I have put on this Confidence. If you can
Forgive this Transgression of Modesty in behalf of a Friend,
receive this Gentleman into your Interests and Friend/
1sxil'tip,'and take it from me that he is an Honest and a Brave
an.
Friday
76
.. THE SPECTATOR
o. 494.
rida
eP
712.
5'6,
No. 494.
[ADDISON]
Aegritudinem laudare, unam rem maxime detestabilem, quorum
est tandem philosophorum l—Cic.
Friday, September 26.
BOUT an Age ago it was the Fashion in England
for every one that would be thought religious, to
throw as much Sanctity as possible into his Face, and in
particular to abstain from all Appearances of Mirth and
Pleasantry, which were looked upon as the Marks of a
Carnal Mind. The Saint was of a sorrowful Counten/
ance, and generally eaten up with Spleen and Melancholy.
A Gentleman, who was lately a great Ornament to the
learned World, has diverted me more than once with an
Account of the Reception which he met with from a very
famous Independent Minister, who was Head of a College
in those Times. This Gentleman was then a young
Adventurer in the Republick of Letters, and just fitted out
for the University with a good Cargo of La tin and Greek.
His Friends were resolved that he should try his Fortune
at an Election which was drawing near in the College,
of which the Independent Minister, whom I have before
mentioned was Governour. The Youth, according to
Custom, waited on him in Order to be examined. He
was received at the Door by a Servant, who was one of
that gloomy Generation that were then in Fashion. He
conducted him, with great Silence and Seriousness, to a
long Gallery which was darkned at Noonday, and had
only a single Candle burning in it. After a short Stay in
this melancholy Apartment, he was led into a Chamber
hung with Black, where he entertained himself for some
Time by the glimmering of a Taper, 'till at length the
Head of the Colledge came out to him, from an inner
Room, with half a Dozen Night/Caps upon his Head, and
a religious Horror in his Countenance. The young Man
trembled; but his Fears encreased, when, instead of being
asked what Progress he had made in Learning, he was
examined how he abounded in Grace. His Latin and
Greek stood him in little stead; he was to give an Account
only of the State of his Soul, whether he was of the
Number of the Elect; what was the Occasion of his
Conversion
THE SPECTATOR 77
Conversion; upon what Day of the Month, and Hour of No. 494.
the Day it happened; how it was carried on, and when PM“?
compleated? The whole Examination was summed up $192“ 6'
with one short Question, Namely, Whether he was pre/ '
pared for Death 7 The Boy, who had been bred up by
honest Parents, was frighted out of his Wits at the
Solemnity of the Proceeding, and by the last dreadful
Interrogatory; so that upon making his Escape out of
this House of Mourning he could never be brought a
second Time to the Examination, as not being able to go
through the Terrors of it.
Notwithstanding this general Form and Outside of
Religion is pretty well worn out among us, there are
many Persons, who, by a natural Unchearfulness of Heart,
mistaken Notions of Piety, or Weakness of Understanding,
love to indulge this uncomfortable Way of Life, and give
up themselves a Prey to Grief and Melancholy. Super;
stitious Fears, and groundless Scruples, cut them off from
the Pleasures of Conversation, and all those social Enter.
tainments which are not only innocent but laudable; as
if Mirth was made for Reprobates, and Chearfulness of
Heart denied those who are the only Persons that have a
proper Title to it.
Sombrius is one of these Sons of Sorrow. He thinks
himself obliged in Duty to be sad and disconsolate. He
looks on a sudden Fit of Laughter, as a Breach of his
is Baptismal Vow. An innocent Jest startles him like
" Blasphemy. Tell him of one who is advanced to a Title
of Honour, he lifts up his Hands and Eyes; describe a
Publick Ceremony, he shakes his Head; shew him a gay
Equipage, he blesses himself. All the little Ornaments
of Life are Pomps and Vanities. Mirth is wanton, and
Wit profane. He is scandalized at Youth for being lively,
and at Childhood for being playful. He sits at a Christem
ing, or a MarriageaFeast, as at a Funeral; sighs at the
Conclusion of a merry Story; and grows devout when
the Rest of the Company grow pleasant. After all,
Sombrz'us is a religious Man, and would have behaved
himself very properly, had he lived when Christianity
was under a general Persecution.
Iwould by no Means presume to tax such Characters
with
78 THE SPECTATOR
with Hypocrisie, as is done too frequently, that being a
Vice which I think none but He, who knows the Secrets
of Men's Hearts, should pretend to discover in another,
where the Proofs of it do not amount to a Demonstration.
On the contrary, as there are many excellent Persons,
who are weighed down by this habitual Sorrow of Heart,
they rather deserve our Compassion than our Reproaches.
I think, however, they would do well to consider, whether
such a Behaviour does not deterr Men from a religious
Life, by Representin it as an unsociable State, that extin/
guishes all Joy and ladness, darkens the Face of Nature,
and destroys the Relish of Being it self.
I have, in former Papers, shewn how great a Tendency
there is to Chearfulness in Religion, and how such a
Frame of Mind is not only the most lovely, but the most
commendable in a virtuous Person. In short, those who
represent Religion in so unamiable a Light, are like the
Spies sent by Moses to make a Discovery of the Land of
Promise, when by their Reports they discouraged the
People from entering upon it. Those who shew us the
Joy, the Chearfulness, the good Humour, that naturally
springs up in this happy State, are like the Spies bringing
along with them the Clusters of Grapes, and delicious
Fruits, that might invite their Companions into the
pleasant Countr which produced them.
An eminent Pagan Writer has made a Discourse, to
~shew that the Atheist, who denies a God, does him less
Dishonour than the Man who owns his , Being, but at the
same Time believes him to be cruel, hard to please, and
terrible to humane Nature. For my own Part, says he,
I wou'd rather it shou’d be said of me, that there was
never any such Man as Plutarch, than that Plutarch was
ill/natured, capricious or inhumane.
If we may believe our Logicians, Man is distinguished
from all other Creatures, by the Faculty of Laughter.
He has an Heart capable of Mirth, and naturally disposed
to it. It is not the Business of Virtue to extirpate the
Affections of the Mind, but to regulate them. It may
moderate and restrain, but was not designed to banish
Gladness from the Heart of Man. Religion contracts the
Circle of our Pleasures, but leaves it wide enough for her


Votaries
THE SPECTATOR 79
Votaries to expatiate in. The Contemplation of the No. 494.
Divine Being, and the Exercise of Virtue, are in their own Pride .
Nature so far from excluding all Gladness of Heart, that 187?; 6'
they are perpetual Sources of it. In a Word, the true '
Spirit of Religion cheers, as well as composes the Soul; It
banishes indeed all Levity of Behaviour, all vicious and
dissolute Mirth, but in Exchange fills the Mind with a
perpetual Serenity, uninterrupted Chearfulness, and an
habitual Inclination to please others, as well as to be
pleased in itself. O
No. 495.
[ADDISONJ Saturday, September 27.
Duris ut ilex tonsa bipennibus
Nigrae feraci frondis in Algido,
Per damna, per caedes, ab ipso
Ducit opes animumque ferro.—-Hor.
S I am one who, by my Profession, am obliged to
look into all Kinds of Men, there are none whomI
consider with so much Pleasure, as those who have any
" Thing new or extraordinary in their Characters, or Ways
of Living. For this Reason I have often amused my self
with Speculations on the Race of People called jews, many
of whom I have met with in most of the considerable
Towns which I have passed through in the Course of my
Travels. ’ They are, indeed, so disseminated through
all the trading Parts of the World, that they are become
the Instruments by which the most distant Nations
converse with one another, and by which Mankind are
knit together in a general Correspondence. They are
like the Pegs and Nails in a great Building, which, though
they are but little valued in themselves, are absolutely
necessary to keep the whole Frame together.
That I may not fall into any common beaten Tracks of
Observation, I shall consider this People in three Views;
First, with Regard to their Number; Secondly, their
Dispersion; and Thirdly their Adherence to their
Religion; and afterwards endeavour to shew, first what
natural Reasdns, and secondly what providential Reasons
may be assigned for these three remarkable Particulars.h
. T e
80 THE SPECTATOR

No. 495. The jews are looked upon by many to be as numerous
atm‘dayt at present, as they were formerly in the Land of Canaan.
781%“ 2 ' This is wonderful, considering the dreadful Slaughter
' made of them under some of the Roman Emperors, which
Historians describe by the Death of many Hundred
Thousands in a War, and the innumerable Massacres and
Persecutions they have undergone in Turkey, as well as
in all Christian Nations of the World. Their Rabbins, to
express the great Havock which has been sometimes
made of them, tell us, after their usual Manner of
Hyperbole, that there were such Torrents of holy Blood
shed, as carried Rocks of an hundred Yards in Circum.
ference above three Miles into the Sea.
Their Dispersion is the second remarkable Particular
in this People. They swarm over all the East, and are
settled in the remotest Parts of China: They are spread
through most of the Nations of Europe and Africk, and
many Families of them are established in the West.
Indies. Not to mention whole Nations bordering on
Prester john's Country, and discovered in the inner
Parts of America, if we may give any Credit to their
own Writers. _ -
Their firm Adherence to their Religion, is no less
remarkable than their Numbers and Dispersion,especially
considering it as persecuted or contemned over the Face
of the whole Earth. This is likewise the more remark/
able, if we consider the frequent Apostacies of this People,
when they lived under their Kin s, in the Land of
Promise, and within Sight of their emple.
If in the next Place we examine, what may be the
natural Reasons for these three Particulars, which we find '
in the jews, and which are not to he found in any other
Religion or People, I can in the first Place attribute their
Numbers to Nothing, but their constant Employment,
their Abstinence, their Exemption from Wars, and, above
all, their frequent Marriages; for they look on Celibacy
as an accursed State, and generally are married before
Twenty, as hoping the Messiah may descend from them.
The Dispersion of the jews into all the Nations of the
Earth, is the second remarkable Particular of that People,
though not so hard to be accounted for. {They were
' always


THE SPECTATOR 81 ' \
always in Rebellions and Tumults while they had the No. 495.
Temple and Holy City in View, for which Reason they Saturda
have often been driven out of their old Habitations in the 187 2t' 2
Land of Promise: They have as often been banished out '
of most other Places where they have settled, which must
very much disperse and scatter a People, and oblige them _
to seek a Livelihood where they can find it. Besides, the
whole People is now a Race of such Merchants as are
Wanderers by Profession, and, at the same Time, are in
most if not all Places incapable of either Lands or Offices,
that might engage them to make any Part of the World
their Home.
This Dispersion would probably have lost their Religion,
had it not been secured by the Strength of its Constitution:
For they are to live all in a Body, and generally within
the same Enclosure, to marry among themselves, and to
eat no Meats that“ are not killed or prepared their own
Way. This shuts them out from all Table Conversation,
and the most agreeable Intercourses of Life; and, by
Consequence, excludes them from the most probable
Means of Conversion.
If, in the last Place, we consider what providential
Reason may be assigned for these three Particulars, we
shall find that their Numbers, Dispersion, and Adherence
to their Religion, have furnished every Age, and every
Nation of the World, with the strongest Arguments for
the Christian Faith, not only as these very Particulars are
foretold of them, but as they themselves are the Deposi/
taries of these, and all the other Prophecies which tend
to their own Confusion. Their Number furnishes us
with a sufficient Cloud of Witnesses, that attest the Truth
of the old Bible. Their Dispersion spreads these Witnesses
through all Parts of the World. The Adherence to their
Religion, makes their Testimony unquestionable. Had
the whole Body of jews been converted to Christianity,
we should certainly have thought all the Prophecies of the
old Testament, that relate to the Coming and History of
our Blessed Saviour, forged by Christians, and have
looked upon them, with the Prophecies of the Sybils,
as made many Years after the Events they pretended
to foretell. O
IV. F Monday
82 THE SPECTATOR
C onda ,
pt. 2 ,
No. 496.
[STEELE] Monday, September 29.
anatum—————
————pariter uti his decuit aut etiam amplius,
Quad illa aetas magis ad haec utenda idonea est.
—Terent. Heaut, A. 1 Sc. 1.
‘ Mr. SPECTATOR,
HOSE Ancients, who were the most accurate in
their Remarks on the Genius and Temper of Man/
kind, by considering the various Bent and Scope of our
Actions throughout the Progress of Life, have with great
Exactness allotted Inclinations and Objects of Desire par/
ticular to every Stage, according to the different Circuma
stances of our Conversation and Fortune, thro’ the several
Periods of it. Hence they were disposed easily to excuse
those Excesses which might possibly arise from a too eager
Pursuit of the Affections more immediately proper to each
State: They indulged the Levity of Childhood with
Tenderness, overlooked the Gayety of Youth with good
Nature, tempered the forward Ambition and Impatience
of ripened Manhood with Discretion, and kindly imputed
the tenacious Avarice of old Men to their Want of Relish
for any other Enjoyment. Such Allowances as these
were no less advantagious to common Society, than
obliging to particular Persons; for by maintaining a
Decency and Regularity in the Course of Life, they sup.
ported thelDignity of humane Nature, which then suffers
the greatest Violence when the Order of Things is
inverted; and in Nothing is it more remarkably vilified
and ridiculous, than when Feebleness preposteroust
attempts to adorn it self With that outward Pomp and
Lustre which serve only to set off the Bloom of Youth
with better Advantage. I was insensibly carried into
Reflections of this Nature, by just now meeting Paulina
(who is in his Climacterick) bedeck'd with the utmost
Splendour of Dress and Equipa e, and giving an Ulla
bounded Loose to all Manner of Pleasure, whilst his only
Son is debarr’d all innocent Diversion, and may be seen
frequently solacing himself in the Mall, with no other
Attendance, than one antiquated Servant of his Father’s,
for a Companion and Director. ' I
t
THE SPECTATOR - 83
It is a monstrous Want of Reflection, that a Man cannot No. 496.
consider that when he cannot resign the Pleasures of Life Mmda v
in his Decay of Appetite and Inclination to them, his IS??? 2 '
Son must have a much uneasier Task to resist the '
Impetuosity of growing Desires. The Skill therefore
should methinks be, to let a Son want no lawful Diversion,
in proportion to his future Fortune, and the Figure he is
to make in the World. The first Step towards Virtue that
I have observed in young Men of Condition that have run
into Excesses, has been that they had a Regard to their
Quality and Reputation in the Management of their Vices.
Narrowness in their Circumstances has made many
Youths to supply themselves as Debauchees, commence
Cheats and Rascals. The Father who allows his Son to
his utmost Ability, avoids this latter Evil, which as to the
World is much greater than the former. But the con/
trary Practice has prevail'd so much among some Men,
that I have known them deny them what was meerly
necessary for Education suitable to their Quality. Poor
young Antonio is a lamentable Instance of ill Conduct
in this Kind. The youn Man did not want natural
Talents; but the Father 0 him was a Coxcomb, who
affected being a fine Gentleman so unmercifully, that he
could not endure in his Sight, or the frequent Mention of
one, 'who was his Son growing into Manhood, and thrust
ing him out of the gay World. I have often thought the
Father took a secret Pleasure in reflecting, that when that
fine House and Seat came into the next Hands, it would
revive his Memory, as a Person who knew how to enjoy
them, from Observation of the Rusticity and Ignorance of
his Successor. Certain it is, that a Man may, if he will,
let his Heart close to the having no Regard to any Thing
but his dear Self, even with Exclusion of his very
Children. I recommend this Subject to your Consideraw
tion, and am,
Sir,
Your most humble Servant,
TO B,’
‘ Mr.
84 ' THE SPECTATOR
Or ond2a ,
Pt: 1
12.
‘Mr. SPEcrAToR, London, Sept. 26. 1712.
I am just come from Tunbridge, and have since my
Return read Mrs. Matilda Mohair's Letter to you: She
pretends to make a mighty Story about the Diversion of
Swinging in that Place. What was done, was only
among Relations; and no Man swung any Woman who
was not second Cousin at farthest. She is pleased to
say, Care was taken that the Gallants tied the Ladies
Legs before they were wafted into the Air. Since she
is so spiteful I’ll tell you the plain Truth; There was
no such Nicety observed, since we were all, as I just now
told you, near Relations; but Mrs. Mohair her self has
been swung there, and she invents all this Malice because
it was observed she has crooked Legs, of which I was an
Eye/Witness.
Your humble Servant,
Rachel Shooestring.’
Tunbridge, Sept. 26. 1712.
'We have just now read our Paper containing Mrs.
Mohair's Letter. It is an nvention of her own from
one End to the other; and I desire you would print the
enclosed Letter by it self, and shorten it so as to come
within the Compass of your Half/Sheet. She is the most
malicious Minx in the World, for all she looks so innocent.
Don't leave out that Part about her being in Love with
her Father's Butler, which makes her shun Men; for that
is the truest of it all.
' Mr. SPECTATOR.
Your humble Servant,
Sarah Trice.
P. S. She has crooked Legs.’
‘Mr. SPECTATOR, Tunbridge, Sept. 26. 1712.
All that Mrs. Mohair is so vex'd at a ainst the good
Company - of this Place is, that we all ow she has
crooked Legs. This is certainly true. I don't care for
tting my Name, because one would not be in the
Pgwer of the Creature.
Your humble Servant unknown.‘
Mr.’
THE SPECTATOR 85
‘Mr. SPECTATOR. Tunbridge, Sept. 26. 1712. No. 496.
That insufferable Prude Mrs. Mohair, who has told gifidzag',
such Stories of the Company here, is with Child, for all 17 2, '3
her nice Airs and her crooked Legs. Pray be sure to
put her in for both those two Things, and you 'll oblige
every Body here, especially
Your humble Servant,

T Alice Bluegarter.’
No. 497.
[STEELE] Tuesday, September 30.
Oh'rds éo'fl yuhea'rr'qs yépuv.——Menander.
FAVOUR well bestowed, is almost as great an
. ‘ Honour to him who confers it as to him who
receives it. What indeed makes for the superiour Reputa/
tion of the Patron in this Case, is, that he is always
surrounded with specious Pretences of unworthy Candi/
dates, and is often alone in the kind Inclination he has
towards the Well/deserving. Justice is the first Quality
in the Man who is in a Post of Direction: and I re/
member to have heard an old Gentleman talk of the
Civil/wars, and in his Relation give an Account of a
general Officer, who with this one Quality, without any
shining Endowments, became so peculiarly beloved and
honoured, that all Decisions between Man and Man
were laid before him by the Parties concern’d in a private
Way, and they would lay by their Animosities im/
plicitly if he bid them be Friends, or submit themselves
in the Wrong without Reluctance, if he said it, without
waiting the Judgment of Court/marshals. His Manner
was to keep the Dates of all Commissions in his Closet, and
wholly dismiss from the Service such who were deficient
in their Duty, and after that took Care to prefer according
to the Order of Battle. His Familiars were his entire
Friends, and could have no interested Views in Courting
his Acquaintance: for his Affection was no Step to their
Preferment, though it was to their Reputation. By this
Means a kind Aspect, a Salutation, a Smile, and giving
out his Hand, had the Weight of what is esteemed by
vulgar
86 THE SPECTATOR
Q:
uesda ,
ept. 3
12.
I
vulgar Minds more substantial. His Business was very
short, and he who had Nothin to do but Justice, was
never affronted with a Request 0 a familiar daily Visitant
for what was due to a brave Man at a Distance. Ex/
traordinary Merit he used to recommend to the for
some Distinction at Home, ’till the Order of Battle made
Way for his rising in the Troops. Add to this, that he
had an excellent Manner of getting rid of such whom he
observed were good at an Halt, as his Phrase was. Under
this Description he comprehended all those who were
contented to live without Reproach, and had no Prompti/
tude in their Minds towards Glory. These Fellows were
also recommended to the King, and taken off of the
General's Hands into Posts wherein Diligence and
common Honesty were all that were necessary. This
General had no weak Part in his Line; but every Man
had as much Care upon him, and as much Honour to
lose as himself. Every Officer could answer for what
pass'd where he was, and the General’s Presence was
never necessary any where but where he had placed
himself at the first Disposition, except that Accident
happen’d from extraordinary Efforts of the Enemy which
he could not foresee; but it was remarkable that it never
fell out from Failure in his own Troops. It must be
confess’d, the World is just so much out of Order, as an
unworthy Person possesses what should be in the
Direction of him who has better Pretensions to it.
Instead of such a Conduct as this old Fellow used to
describe in his General, all the Evils which have ever
happen’d among Mankind have arose from the wanton
Disposition of the Favours of the Powerful. It is gener/
ally all that Men of Modesty and Virtue can do to fall in
with some whimsical Turn in a Great Man, to make Way
for Things of real and absolute Service. In the Time of
Don Sebastian of Portugal, or some Time since, the first ~
Minister would let Nothing come near him but what
bore the most profound Face of Wisdom and Gravit .
They carried it so far, that, for the greater Shew of their
profound Knowledge, a Pair of Spectacles, tied on their
Noses with a black Ribband round their Heads, was what
compleated the Dress of those who made their Court at
his
THE SPECTATOR 87
his Levee, and none with naked Noses were admitted to No. 497.,
his Presence. A blunt honest Fellow, who had a Com/ T116553
mand in the Train of Artillery, had attempted to make an 15715“ 3. 'l
. . . , . .
Impression upon the Porter, Day after Day, in vain, till
at length he made his Appearance in a very thoughtful
dark Suit of Cloaths, and two Pair of Spectacles on at once.
He was conducted from Room to Room, with great Defer.
ence, to the Minister, and carrying on the Farce of the
Place, he told his Excellence, That he had pretended in this
Manner to be wiser than he really was, but with no ill
Intention; but he was honest Such/aaone of the Train,
and he came to tell him that they wanted Wheel/barrows
and Pick/axes. The Thing happened not to displease, the
great Man was seen to smile, and the successful Officer
was reconducted with the same profound Ceremony out
of the House.
When Leo the Tenth reigned Pope of Rome, his Holi/
ness, tho' a Man of Sense, and of an excellent Taste of
Letters, of all Things affected Fools, Buffoons, Humorists,
and Coxcombs: Whether it were from Vanity, and that he
enjoyed no Talents in other Men but what were inferior to
him, or whatever it was, he carried it so far, that his whole
Delight was in finding out new Fools, and, as our Phrase
is, playing them off, and making them shew themselves
to Advantage. A Priest of his former Acquaintance
suffered a great many Disappointments in attempting to
find Access to him in a regular Character, 'till at last in
Despair _ he retired from Rome, and returned in an
Equipa e so very phantastical, both as to the Dress of
himse and Servants, that the whole Court were in an
Emulation who should first introduce him to his Holiness.
What added to the Expectation his Holiness had of the
Pleasure he should have in his Follies, was, that this
Fellow, in a Dress the most exquisitely ridiculous, desired
he might speak to him alone, for he had Matters of the
highest Importance, upon which he wanted a Conference.
Nothing could be denied to a Coxcomb of so great Hope;
but when they were aapart, the Impostor revealed himself,
and spoke as follows.

Do not be surprized, most holy Father, at Seeing, in.
. . stead
88 THE SPECTATOR
.497. stead of a Coxcomb to laugh at, your old Friend, who has
$52! . taken this Way of Access to admonish you of your own
t' 3 ' Folly. Can any Thing shew your Holiness how un/
' worthily you treat Mankind, more than my being put
upon this Difficulty to speak with you? It is a Degree of
Folly to delight to see it in others, and it is the greatest
Insolence imaginable to rejoyce in the Disgrace of humane
Nature. It is a criminal Humility in a Person of your
Holiness’s Understanding, to believe you cannot excel
but in the Conversation of Half/wits, Humourists, Cox/
combs, and Buffoons. If your Holiness has a Mind to be
diverted like a rational Man, you have a great Oppor/
tunity for it, in disrobing all the Impertinents you have
favoured of all their Riches and Trappings at once, and
bestowing them on the Humble, the Virtuous, and the
Meek. If your Holiness is not concerned for the Sake of
Virtue and Religion, be pleased to reflect, that for the Sake
of your own Safety it is not proper to be so very much in
jest. When the Pope is thus merry, the People will in
Time begin to think many Things, which they have
hitherto beheld with great Veneration, are in themselves
Objects of Scorn and Derision. If they once get a Trick
of knowing how to laugh, your Holiness’s saying this
Sentence in one Night/cap and t'other with the other,
the Change of our Slippers, bringing you your Staff in
the Midst of a Prayer, then strip ing you of one Vest
and clapping on a second, during Divine Service, will be
found out to have Nothing in it. Consider, Sir; that at
this Rate a Head will be reckoned never the wiser for
being bald; and the Ignorant will be apt to say, that
going barefoot does not at all help on in the Way to
Heaven. The red Cap and the Coul will fall under the
same Contempt; and the Vulgar will tell us to our Faces,
that we shall have no Authority over them but from the
Force of our Arguments and the Sanctity of our lives.
Wednesday
THE SPECTATOR 89

No. 498. No. 498. ,
[STEELE] Wednesday, October 1. X53368”
- Frustra retinacula tendens Octipberll
Fertur equis aurzga, neque audit currus habenas. 1712.
‘To the SPECTATOR GENERAL of Great Britain.
From the farther End of the IVidow’s Coffee/house in
Devereaux/Court, Monday Evening, 28 Minutes and
a Half past Six.
Dear Dumb,
N short, to use no further Preface, if I should tell you
that I have seen a Hackney/Coachman, when he has
come to set down his Fare, which has consisted of two or
three very fine Ladies, hand them out, and salute every
one of them with an Air of Familiarity, without giving
the least Offence, you would perhaps think me guilty of
a Gasconade. But to clear my self from that Imputation,
and to explain this Matter to you, I assure you that there
are many illustrious Youths within this City, who fre/
quently recreate themselves by driving of a Hackney.
Coach; But those whom, above all others, I would
recommend to you, are the young Gentlemen belonging
to our Inns of Court. We have, I think, about a dozen
Coachmen, who have Chambers here in the Templz;
and as it is reasonable to believe others will follow their
Example, we may perhaps in Time, (if it shall be thought
convenient) be drove to Westminster by our own
Fraternity, allowing every fifth Person to apply his
Meditations this Way, which is but a modest Computa/
tion as the Humour is now likely to take. It is to be
hoped likewise, that there are in the other Nurseries of
the Law to be found a proportionable Number of these
hopeful Plants, springing up to the everlasting Renown
of their native Country. Of how long standing this
Humour has been, I know not; the first Time I had any
, particular Reason to take Notice of it was about this Time
Twelvemonth, when, being upon Hampstead/Heath with
some of these studious young Men, who went thither
purely for the Sake of Contemplation, Nothing would
serve them but I must go through a Course of this
\ Philosophy
90 THE SPECTATOR
. 498.
dnes.
tbber 1,
Philosophy too; and being ever willing to embellish
my self with any commendable Qualification, it was
not long e’er they perswaded me into the Coach.box;
nor indeed much longer before I underwent the fate of
my brother Phaeton, for having drove about fifty Paces
with pretty good Success, through my own natural
Sagacity, together with the good Instructions of my
Tutors, who, to give them their Due, were on all Hands
encouraging and assisting me in this laudable Under.
taking; I say, Sir, having drove about fifty Paces with
pretty good Success, I must needs be exercising the Lash,
which the Horses resented so ill from my Hands, that they
gave a sudden Start, and thereby pitched me directly upon
my Head, as I very well remembered about Half an Hour
afterwards, which not only deprived me of all the Know.
ledge I had gain'd for fifty Yards before, but had like to
have broken my Neck into the Bargain. After such a
severe Reprimand, you may imagine I was not very easily
prevail'd with to make a second Attempt; and indeed,
upon mature Deliberation, the whole Science seemed, at
least to me, to be surrounded with so many Difficulties,
that notwithstanding the unknown Advantages which
might have accrued to me thereby, I gave over all
Hopes of attaining it, and I believe had never thought of it
more, but that my Memory has been lately refreshed by
seeing some of these ingenious Gentlemen ply in the open
Streets, one of which I saw receive so suitable a Reward
to his Labours, that tho' I know you are no Friend to
StoryAelling, yet I must beg Leave to trouble you with
this at large.
About a Fortnight since, as I was diverting my self
with a Pennyworth of Wallnuts at the Temple/Gate, a
lively young Fellow in a Fustian Jacket shot by me,
beckon d a Coach, and told the Coachman he wanted to
go as far as Chelsey: They agreed upon the Price, and
this young Gentleman mounts the Coach~box; the Fellow
staring at him, desired to know if he should not drive 'till
they were out of Town? No, no, reply'd he: He was
then going to climb up to him, but receiv'd another Check,
and was then ordered to get into the Coach, or behind it,
for that he wanted no Instructors; but be sure, you Dog
you
THE SPECTATOR 91
you, says he, don't you bilk me. The Fellow thereupon No. 498.
surrender’d his Whip, scratch'd his Head, and crept into Wedfl
the Coach. Having my self Occasion to go into the az'b
Strand, about the same Time, we started both together; 17;; cr
but the Street being very full of Coaches, and he not so
able a Coachman as perhaps he imagined himself, I had
soon got a little Way before him; often, however, having
the Curiosity to cast my Eye back upon him to observe
how he behaved himself, in this high Station, which he
did with great Composure ’till he came to the Pass, which
is a Military Term the Brothers of the Whip have given
the Streight at St. Clement's Church; when he was arrived
near this Place, where are always Coaches in waiting, the
Coachmen be an to suck up the Muscles of their Cheeks,
and to tip the ink upon each other, as if they had some
Roguery in their Heads, which I was immediately com
vinced of; for he no sooner came within Reach, but the
first of them with his Whip took the exact Dimension of
his Shoulders, which he very ingeniously call’d Endorsing;
and indeed I must say that every one of them took due
Care to endorse him as he came thro’ their Hands. He
seem'd at first a little uneasy under the Operation, and
was going in all haste to take the Numbers of their
' Coaches; but at length, by the Mediation of the worthy
Gentleman in the Coach, his Wrath was asswaged, and
he prevail'd upon to pursue his Journey; though indeed I
thought they had clapt such a Spoke in his Wheel, as had
disabled him from being a Coachman for that Day at least:
For I am only mistaken, Mr. SPEc, if some of these Endorse/
ments were not wrote in so strong a Hand, that they are
still legible. Upon my enquiring the Reason of this
unusual Salutation, they told me that it was a Custom
among them, whenever they saw a Brother tottering or
unstable in his Post, to lend him a Hand in order to settle
him again therein: For my Part I thought their Allega.
tions but reasonable, and so march'd off. Besides our
Coachmen, we do abound in divers other Sorts of ingenious
robust Youth, who, I hope, will not take it ill if I refer
giving you an Account of their several Recreations to
another Opportunity. In the mean Time, if you would

but bestow a little of your wholsome Advice upon our
~ Coachmen
92 THE SPECTATOR
O:
'ednesw
“Y
ctbber l,
12.

Coachmen, it might perhaps be a Reprieve to some of
their Necks. As I understand you have several Inspectors
under you, if you would but send one amongst us here in
the Temple, I am perswaded he would not want Employ/
ment. But I leave this to your own Consideration,
and am,
Sir,
Your very humble Servant,
Moses Greenbag. -
. P. S. I have heard our Criticks in the Coffee/houses
hereabout talk ' htily of the Unity of Time and Place:
According to my otion of the Matter, I have endeavoured-
at Something like it in the Beginning of my: Epistle. I
desire to be inform’d a little as to that Particular. In my
next I design to give you some Account of excellent
Watermen, who are bred to the Law, and far outdo the
Land/Students abovemention'd.’
No. 499.
[ADDISQNJ Thursday, October ~2.
Nxmis uncis
.—Pers.

Naribus indulges
Y Friend Wlu. HONYCOMB has told me, for above
this half Year, that he had a great Mind to try his
Hand at a Spectator, and that he would fain have one of
his Writing in my Works. This Morning I receiv'd from
him the following Letter, which, after having rectified
some little orthographical Mistakes, I shall make a Present
of to the Publick.
‘Dear SPEC.
I was, about two Nights ago, in Company with very
agreeable young People of both Sexes, where talking of
some of your Papers which are written on conjugal Love,
there arose a Dispute among us, whether there were not
more bad Husbands in the World than bad Wives. A
Gentleman, who was Advocate for the Ladies, took this
Occasion to tell us the Story of a famous Siege in Germany,
which I have since found related in my historical Dic.
tionary

THE SPECTATOR ' 93
tionary, after the following Manner. When the Emperor No. 499.
Conrade the Third had besieged Guelph us, Duke of Thursda
Bavaria, in the City of Hezisberg, the Women finding 3550b"
that the Town could not possibly hold out long, petitioned '
the Emperor that they might depart out of it, with so
much as each of them could carry. The Emperor, know.
ing they could not convey away many of their Effects,
granted them their Petition; When the Women, to his
eat Surprize, came out of the Place with every one her
usband upon her Back. The Emperor was so moved at
the Sight, that he burst into Tears, and after having very
much extolled the Women for their conjugal Affection,
gave the Men to their Wives, and received the Duke into
his Favour.
The Ladies did not a little triumph at this Story, asking
us, at the same Time, whether in our Consciences we
' believed that the Men of any Town in Great Britain
would, upon the same Offer, and at the same Conjuncture,
have loaden themselves with their Wives; or rather,
whether they would not have been glad of such an
Opportunity to get rid of them? To this my very good
Friend Tom Dapperwit, who took upon him to be the
Mouth of our Sex, replied, that they would be very much
to blame if they wou'd not do the same good Office for the
Women, considering that their Strength would be greater,
and their Burdens lighter. As we were amusing our
selves with Discourses of this Nature, in order to pass
away the Evening, which now begins to grow tedious, we
fell into that laudable and primitive Diversion of Questions
and Commands. I was no sooner vested with the regal
Authority, but I enjoined all the Ladies, under Pain of my
Displeasure, to tell the Company ingenuously, in Case they
had been in the Siege abovementioned, and had the same
Offers made them as the good Women of that Place, what
every one of them would have brought off with her, and
have thought most worth the Saving? There were
several merry Answers made to my Question, which
entertained us 'till Bed/time. This filled my Mind with
such an Huddle of Ideas, that upon my going to sleepI
fell into the following Dream.
.I saw a Town of this Island, which shall be nameless,

invested
94 THE SPECTATOR
12.

ctober
o. 499. invested on every Side, and the Inhabitants of it so
hursda rstreigthned as to cry for Quarter. The General refused
'any other Terms than those granted to the abovemen.
tioned Town of Hensberg, namely, that the married
Women might come out with what they could bring
along with them. Immediately the City Gates flew open,
and a Female Procession appeared, Multitudes of the Sex
following one another in a Row, and staggering under
their respective Burdens. I took my Stand upon an Emin.
ence in the Enemies' Camp, which was appointed for the
general Rendezvous of these female Carriers, being very
desirous to look into their several Ladings. The first of
them had an huge Sack upon her Shoulders, which she
set down with great Care: Upon the opening of it, when
I expected to have seen her Husband shot out of it, I found
it was filled with China/Ware. The next appeared in a
more decent Figure, carrying an handsome young Fellow
upon her Back: I could not forbear commending the
young Woman for her conjugal Affection, when, to my
great Surprise, I found that she had left the good Man at
home, and brought away her Gallant. I saw the third at
some Distance, with a little withered Face peeping over
her Shoulder, whom I could not suspect for any but her
Spouse, 'till upon her setting him down I heard her call
him dear Pugg, and found him to be her favourite Monkey.
A fourth brought a huge Bale of Cards along with her;
and the fifth a Bolonia Lap/dog, for her Husband it seems
being a very burly Man, she thought it would be less
Trouble for her to bring away little Cupid. The next
was the Wife of a rich Usurer, loaden with a Bag of Gold;
she told us that her Spouse was very old, and by the
Course of Nature could not expect to live long, and that to
shew her tender Regards for him she had saved that
which the poor Man loved better than his Life. The
next came towards us with her Son upon her Back, who,
we were told, was the greatest Rake in the Place, but so
much the Mother's Darling that she left her Husband
behind, with a large Family of hopeful Sons and Daughters,
for the sake of this graceless Youth.
It would be endless to mention the several Persons,
with their several Loads, that appeared to me in this
strange
THE SPECTATOR 95
strange Vision. All the Place about me was covered No. 499.
with Packs of Ribbands, Brocades, Embroidery, and Teng
Thousand other Materials, sufficient to have furnish’d a,
whole Street of ToyaShops. One of the Women, having
an Husband who was none of the heaviest, was bringing
him off upon her Shoulders, at the same Time that she
carried a great Bundle of Flanders Lace under her Arm;
but finding her self so over/loaden that she could not save
both of them, she dropp’d the good Man, and brought
away the Bundle. In short, I found but one Husband
among this great Mountain of Baggage, who was a lively
Cobler, that kicked and spurr'd all the While his Wife was
carrying him on, and, as it was said, had scarce passed
a Day in his Life without giving her the Discipline of
the Strap. '
I cannot conclude my Letter, Dear SPEC, without tell/
ing thee one very odd Whim in this my Dream. I saw,
methoughts, a dozen Women employed in bringing off one
Man; I could not guess who it should be, ’till upon his
nearer Approach I discovered thy short Phiz. The
Women all declared that it was for the Sake of thy Works,
and not thy Person, that they brought thee off, and that
it was on Condition that thou shouldst conflnue the
Spectator. If thou thinkest this Dream will make a
tolerable one, it is at thy Service, from,
Dear SPEC,
Thine, Sleeping and Waking,
WILL. HoNYcoMB.
The Ladies will see, by this Letter, what I have often
told them, that WILL is one of those old/fashioned Men of
Wit and Pleasure of the Town, that shews his Parts by
Raillery on Marriage, and one who has often tryed his
Fortune that Way without Success. I cannot however
dismiss his Letter, without observing, that the true Story
on which it is built does Honour to the Sex, and that
in Order to abuse them, the Writer is obliged to have
Recourse to Dream and Fiction. 0
cl
Friday
96 THE SPECTATOR
_O| NO:
'd , .
rat... 3, [ADDISON]
12.
Friday, October 3.
Huc natas adjice septem,
E't totidem juvenes, 6 mox generosque nurusque ,1
Ouaerite nunc, habeat quam nostra superbia causam.
Met:
‘Sir,
OU, who are so well acquainted with the Story of
Socrates, must have read how, upon his making a
Discourse concerning Love, he pressed his Point with
so much Success that all the Batchelors in his Audience
took a Resolution to marry by the first Opportunity, and
that all the married Men immediately took Horse and
galloped home to their Wives. I am apt to think your
iscourses, in which you have drawn so many agreeable
Pictures of Marriage, have had a very good Effect this
Way in England. We are obliged to you at least, for
having taken off that senseless Ridicule, which for many
Years the Witlins of the Town have turned upon their
Fathers and Mothers. For my own Part, I was born in
Wedlock, and I don't care who knows it; For which
Reason, among many others, I should look upon my self
as a most insufferable Coxcomb, did I endeavour to main/
tain that Cuckoldom was inseparable from Marriage, or
to make use of Husband and Wife as Terms of Reproach.
Nay, Sir, I will go one Step further, and declare to you
before the whole World, that I am a married Man, and at
the same Time I have so much Assurance as not to be
ashamed of what I have done.
Among the several Pleasures that accompany this State
of Life, and which you have described in your former '
Papers, there are two you have not taken Notice of, and
which are seldom cast into the Account, by those who
write on this Subject. You must have observed, in your
Speculations on human Nature, that Nothing is more
gratifying to the Mind of Man than Power or Dominion,
and this I think my self amply possessed of, as I am the
Father of a Family. ' I am perpetually taken up in giving
out Orders, in prescribing Duties, in hearing Parties, in
administring Justice, and in distributing Rewards and
Punishments. To speak in the Language of the Centurion,

THE SPECTATOR 97
I say unto one, go, and he goeth, and to another, come, No. 500.1
and he cometh, and to my Servant do this, and he doeth Friday.
it. In short, Sir, I look upon my Family as a patriarchal 1073*“
Sovereignty, in which I am my self both and Priest. '
All great Governments are Nothing else but Clusters of
these little private Royalties, and therefore I consider the
Masters of Families as small Deputy.Governors presiding
over the several little Parcels and Divisions of their
Fellow/Subjects. As I take great Pleasure in the Admin.
istration of my Government in Particular, so I look upon
my self not only as a more useful, but as a much greater
and happier Man than any Batchelor in England of my
Rank and Condition.
There is another accidental Advantage in Marriage,
which has likewise fallen to my Share, I mean the having
a Multitude of Children. These I cannot but regard as
very great Blessings. When I see my little Troop before
me, I rejoyce in the Additions which I have made to my
Species, to my Country, and to my Religion, in having
produced such a Number of reasonable Creatures, Citizens,
and Christians. I am pleased to see my self thus perpetu/
ated, and as there is no Production comparable to that of an
human Creature, I am more proud of having been the Occa.
sion of Ten such glorious Productions, than if I had built
an hundred Pyramids at my own Expence, or published
as many Volumes of the finest Wit and Learning. In
what a beautiful Light has the holy Scripture repre.
sented Abdon, one of the judges of Israel, who had
Forty Sons, and Thirty Grandsons, that rode on three.
score and ten Ass/Colts, according to the Magnificence
of the eastern Countries? How must the Heart of
of the old Man rejoyce, when he saw such a beautiful
Procession of his own Descendants, such a numerous
Cavalcade of his own Raising? For my own Part, I can
sit in my Parlour with great Content, when I take a
Review of half a Dozen of my little Boys mounting upon
Hobby.Horses, and of as many little Girls tutoring their
Babies, each of them endeavouring to excel the rest, and
to do Something that may gain my Favour and Appro.
bation. I cannot question but he who has blessed me
with so many Children, will assist my Endeavours in
W; G providing
98 THE SPECTATOR
o. 500. providing for them. There is one Thing I am able to
riday,
ctober
2.
give each of them, which is a virtuous Education. I
'think it is Sir Francis Bacon's Observation, that in a
numerous Family of Children the eldest is often spoiled
by the Prospect of an Estate, and the youngest by being
the Darling of the Parent; but that some one or other
in the Middle, who has not perhaps been regarded, has
made his Way in the World, and overtopp'd the rest. It
is my Business to implant in every one of my Children
the same Seeds of Industry, and the same honest Principles.
By this Means I think I have a fair Chance, that one or
other of them may grow considerable in some or other
Way of Life, whether it be in the Army, or in the Fleet,
in Trade, or any of the three learned Professions; for
you must know, Sir, that from long Experience and
Observation, I am perswaded of what seems a Paradox
to most of those with whom I converse, namely, that
a Man who has many Children, and gives them a good
Education, is more likely to raise a Family, than he who
has but one, notwithstanding he leaves him his whole
Estate. For this Reason I cannot forbear amusing my self
with finding out a General, an Admiral, or an Alderman of
London, a Divine, a Physician, or a LaWyer, among my
little People who are now perhaps in Petticoats; and when
I see the motherly Airs of my little Daughters when they
are playing with their Puppets, I cannot but flatter my self
that their Husbands and Children will be happy, in the
Possession of such Wives and Mothers. ‘ f
If you are a Father, you will not perhaps think this
Letter impertinent, but if you are a single Man, you
will not know the Meaning of it, and probably throw
it into the Fire: whatever you determine of it, you may
assure your self that it comes from one who is
Your most humble Servan t,-
t and W611/Wi8h61‘, _
Q ‘ Philogamus.’
Saturday
THE SPECTATOR 99
No. 501. No. 501.‘
[ADDISON'] Saturday, October 4. saturdali
October]
Durum : sed Ievz'us fit patientia, 1712.
Ouicquid corrigere est nefas,—Hor.
AS some of the finest Compositions among the
Ancients are in Allegory, I have endeavoured,
in several of my Papers, to revive that Way of Writing,
and hope I have not been altogether unsuccessful in it:
For I find there is always a great Demand for those
particular Papers, and cannot but observe that several
Authors have endeavoured of late to excel] in Works of
this Nature, Among these, I do not know any one who
has succeeded better than a very ingenious Gentleman, to
whom I am obliged for the following Piece, and who was
the Author of the Vision in the CCCCLXth Paper. 0.
How are we tortured with the Absence of what we
covet to possess, when it appears to be lost to us! What
Excursions does the Soul make in Imagination after it!
And how does it turn into it self again, more foolishly
fond and deiected, at the Disappointment! Our Grief,
instead, of having Recourse to Reason, which might
restrain it, searches to find a further Nourishment, It
calls upon Memory to relate the several Passages and
Circumstances of Satisfactions which we formerly enjoy'd;
the Pleasures we purchased by those Riches that‘are taken
from us; or the Power and Splendour of our departed
Honours; or the Voice, the Words, the Looks, the Temper
and Affections of our Friends that are deceased. It needs
must happen from hence, that the Passion shou’d often
swell to such a Size as to burst the Heart which contains
it, if Time did not make these Cirwmstances less strong
and lively, so that Reason should become a more equal
Match for the Passion, or if another Desire which becomes
more present did not over/power them with a livelier
Representation. These are Thoughts which I had when
I fell into a Kind of Vision u n this Subiect, and may
therefore stand for a proper troduction to a Relation
of it. - - ‘
‘ I found my self upon a- naked Shore, with Company
' whose
100 THE SPECTATOR
DI _
turday,
:tober 4,

whose afflicted Countenances witnessed their Conditions.
Before us flowed a Water deep, silent, and called the
River of Tears, which issuing from two Fountains on an
upper Ground encompassed an Island that lay before us.
The Boat which plied in it was old and shattered, having
been sometimes overset by the Impatience and Haste
of single Passengers to arrive at the other Side. This
immediately was brought to us by Misfortune who
steers it, and we were all preparing to take our Places,
when there appeared a Woman of a mild and composed
Behaviour, who began to deterre us from it, by reprea
Senting the Dangers. which would attend our Voyage.
Hereupon some who knew her for Patience, and some
of those too who ’till then cry’d the loudest, were per,
swaded by her, and return'd back. The rest of us went
in, and she (whose Good/nature wou’d not suffer her to
forsake Persons in Trouble) desired Leave to accompany
us, that she might at least administer some small Comfort
or Advice while we sailed. We were no sooner em;
barked but the Boat was pushed off, the Sheet was spread,
and being filled with Sighs, which are the Winds of that
Country, we made a Passage to the farther Bank, through
Several Difficulties of which the most of us seem’d utterly
regardless.
When we landed, we perceived the Island to be strangely
overcast with Fogs, which no Brightness cou'd pierce, so
that a Kind of gloomy Horror sat always brooding over
it. This had Something in it very shocking to easie
Tempers, insomuch that some others, whom Patience
had by this Time gain'd over, left us here, and privily
convey'd themselves round the Verge of the Island to
find a Ford by which she told them they might escape.
' For my Part, I still went along with those who were
for piercing into the Centre of the Place; and joyning our
selves to others whom we found upon the same Journey,
we marched solemnly as at a Funeral, through bordering
Hedges of Rosemary, and throu h a Grove of Yew/Trees,
which love to over/shadow Tom s and flourish in Church.
Yards. Here we heard on every Side the Wailings and
Complaints of several of the Inhabitants, who had .cast
themselves disconsolately at the/Feet ‘of Trees; and as
' we
THE SPECTATOR '10!
we chanced to approach any of these, we might perceive No. 501.
them wringing their Hands, beating their Breasts, tearing Saturda
their Hair, or after some other Manner visibly agitated gig?“
with Vexation. Our Sorrows were heightned by the
Influence of what we heard and saw, and one of our
Number was wrought up to such a Pitch of Wildness, as
to talk of hanging himself upon a Bough which shot
temptingly across the Path we travelled in, but he was
restrain'd from it by the kind Endeavours of our above;
mentioned Companion.
We had now gotten into the most dusky, silent Part of
the Island, and by the redoubled Sounds of Sighs, which
made a doleful Whistling in the Branches, the Thickness
of Air which occasioned faintish Respiration, and the
violent Throbbings of Heart which more and more affected
us, we found that We approach'd the Grotto of Grief. It
was a wide, hollow, and melancholy Cave, sunk deep in
a Dale, and watered by Rivulets that had a Colour between
Red and Black. These crept slow and half congealed
amongst its Windings, and mixed their heavy Murmur
with the Eccho of Groans that rolled through all the
Passages. In the most retired Part of it sat the Doleful
Being her self, the Path to her was strowed with Goads,
Stings and Thorns, and her Throne on which she sat
was broken into a Rock, with ragged Pieces pointing
upwards for her to lean upon. A heavy Mist hung above
her, her Head oppressed with it reclined upon her Arm,
thus did she“ Reign over her disconsolate Subjects, full
of her self to Stupidity, in eternal Pensiveness, and the
profoundest Silence. On one Side of her stood Deiection
just dropping into a Swoon, and Paleness wasting to a
Skeleton; on the other Side were Care inwardly tor.
mented with Imaginations, and Anguish suffering out.
ward Troubles to suck the Blood from her Heart in the
Shape of Vultures. The whole Vault had a genuine
Dismallness in it, which a few scattered Lamps, whose
blueish Flames arose and sunk in their Urns, discovered
to our Eyes with Encrease. Some of us fell down, over.
come and spent with what they suffered in the Way, and
were given over to those Tormentors that stood on either
Hand of the Presence; others, galled and mortified with


Pain
102 THE SPECTATOR
o. 50L
lturday,
ctober 4,
12.

Pain, recover'd the Entrance, where Patience, whom we
had left behind, was still waiting to receive us.
With her (whose Company was now become more
grateful to us by the Want we had found of her) we
winded round the Grotto, and ascended at the Back of it,
out of the mournful Dale in whose Bottom it lay. On this
Eminence we halted, by her Advice, to pant for Breath,
and lifting our Eyes, which ’till then were fixed down/
wards, felt a sullen Sort of Satisfaction in observing through
the Shades what Numbers had entered the Island. ' This
Satisfaction, which appears to have Ill/nature in it, was
excusable, because it happened at a Time when we were
too much taken up with our own Concern to have Respect
to that of others, and therefore we did not consider them
as Suffering, but our selves as not Suffering in the most
forlorn Estate. It had also the Ground/work of Humanity
and Compassion in it, tho' the Mind was then too dark
and too deeply engaged to perceive it; but as we pro,
ceeded onwards it began to discover it self, and from
observing that others were unhappy, we came to Question
one another, when it was that we met, and what were the
sad Occasions that brought us together. Then we heard
our Stories, we compared them, we mutually gave and
received Pity, and so by Degrees became tollerable
Company.
A considerable Part of the troublesome Road was thus
deceived, at length the Openings among the Trees grew
larger, the Air seemed thinner, it lay with less Oppression
upon us, and we could now and then discern Tracks in it
of a lighter Greyness, like the Breakings of Day, short in
Duration, much enlivening, and called in that Country
Gleams of Amusement. Within a short While these
Gleams began to appear more frequent, and then brighter
and of a longer Continuance; the Sighs that hitherto
' filled the Air with so much Dolefulness, altered to the
Sound of common Breezes, and in general the Horrors of
the Island were abated.
When we had arrived at last at the Ford by which we
were to pass out, we met with those fashionable Mourners
who had been ferryed over alon with us, and who being
unwilling to go as far as we, hag coasted by the ShOafiiég
THE SPECTATOR 103
find the Place, where they waited our coming, that by No. 501i
shewing themselves to the World only at the Time when Saturda‘,
we did, they might " seem also to have been among the gitfbefl
Troubles of the Grotto. Here the Waters, that rolled on '
the other Side so deep and silent, were much dryed up,
and it was an easier Matter for us to wade over.
The River being crossed, we were received upon the
further Bank by our Friends and Acquaintance, whom
Comfort had brought out to congratulate our Appearance
in the World again. Some of these blamed us for staying
so long away from them, others advised us against all
Temptations of going back again; every one was cautious
not to renew our Trouble, by asking any Particulars of
the Journey; and all concluded, that in a Case of so much
Melancholy and Affliction, we could not have made choice
of a fitter Companion than Patience. Here Patience,
appearing serene at her Praises, delivered us over to
Comfort. Comfort smiled at his receiving the Charge;
immediately the S purpled on that Side to which he
turned, and double ay at once broke in upon me.
No. 502.
[STEELE] Monday, October 6.
Melius pejus, prosit obsit, nil vident nisi quod lubet.—-Ter.
HEN Men read, they taste the Matter with which
- they are entertained according as their own
respective Studies and Inclinations have prepared them,
and make their Reflections accordingly. Some perusing a
Roman Writer, would find in them, whatever the Subject
of the Discourses were, Parts which implied the Grandeur
of that People in their Warfare or their Politicks. As for
my Part, who am a meer Spectator, I drew this Morning
Conclusions of their Eminence in what I think great, to
wit, in having worth Sentiments, from the reading a
Comedy of Terence. he Play was the Self/ Tormen tor.
It is from the Beginning to the End a perfect Picture of
humane Life, but I did not observe in the Whole one
Passage that could raise a Laugh. How well disposed
must that People be, who could be entertained with Satis/
faction by so sober and polite Mirth! In the first Scene
of
104 THE SPECTATOR
ctober
12.

o. 502.
°flda$fi of Impertinence for interposing in his Affairs, he answers,
'I am a Man, and cannot help feeling any Sorrow that
of the Comedy, when one of the old Men accuses the other
can arrive at Man. It is said this Sentence was received
with an universal Applause. There cannot be a greater
Argument of the general good Understanding of a People,
than a sudden Consent to give their Approbation of a
Sentiment which has no Emotion in it. If it were spoken
with never so great Skill in the Actor, the Manner of
uttering that Sentence could have Nothing in it which
could strike any but People of the greatest Humanity,
nay People elegant and skilful in Observations upon it.
It is possible he might have laid his Hand on his Breast,
and with a winning Insinuation in his Countenance,
expressed to his Neighbour that he was a Man who made
his Case his own; yet I'll engage a Player in Covent.
Garden might hit such an Attitude a thousand Times
before he would have been regarded. I have heard that
the Minister of State in the Reign of Queen Elizabeth had
all Manner of Books and Ballads brought to him, of what
Kind soever, and took great Notice how much they took
with the People; upon which he would, and certainly
might, very well judge of their present Dispositions, and
the most proper Way of applying them according to his
own Purposes. What passes on the Stage, and the Re.
ception it meets from the Audience, is a very useful
Instruction of this Kind. According to what you may
obServe there on our Stage, you see them often moved
so directly against all common Sense and Humanity, that
“you would be apt to pronounce us a Nation of Savages.
It cannot be called a Mistake of what is pleasant, but the
very Contrary to it is what most assuredly takes with them.
The other Night an old Woman carried off with a Pain in
her Side, with all the Distortions and Anguish of Counten.
ance which is natural to one in that Condition, was laughed
and clapped off the Stage. Terence’s Comedy, which I am
speaking of, is indeed written as if he hoped to please none
but such as had as good a Taste as himself. I could not but
reflect upon the natural Description of the innocent young
Woman made by the Servant to his Master. When I
came to the House, said he, an old Woman openeilD the
oor
THE SPECTATOR 105
Door, and I followed her in, because I could by entering No. 502.,
upon them unawares better observe what was your MmdaY.
Mistress’s ordinary Manner of spending her Time, the 33*“
only Way offudging any one's Inclinations and Genius. '
I found her at her Needle in a Sort of second Mourning,
which she wore for an Aunt she had lately lost. She
had Nothing on but what shewed she dressed only
for her self. Her Hair hung negligently about her
Shoulders. She had none of the Arts with which
others use to set themselves off, but had that Negligence
of Person which is remarkable in those who are careful
of their Minds-— Then she had a Maid who was at
vWork near her, that was a Slattern, because her Mistress
was careless; which I take to be another Argument of
your Security in her; for the Go/betweens of Women
of Intreague are rewarded too well to be dirty. When
you were named, and I told her you desired to see her,
she threw down her Work for joy, covered her Face.
and decently hid her Tears—~ He must be a very good
Actor, and draw Attention rather from his own Chara
acter than the Words of the Author, that could gain it
among us for this Speech, though so full of Nature and
good Sense. '
The intolerable Polly and Confidence of Players putting
in Words of their own, does in a great Measure feed the
absurd Taste of the Audience. But, however that is, it is
ordinary for a Cluster of Coxcombs to take up the House
to themselves, and equally insult both the Actors and the
Company. These Savages, who want all Manner of
Regard and Deference to the rest of Mankind, come only
to shew themselves to us, without any other Purpose than
to let us know they despise us.
The Gross of an Audience is compos'd of two Sorts of
People, those who know no Pleasure but of the Body,
and those who improve or command corporeal Pleasures
by the Addition of fine Sentiments of the Mind. At
present the intelligent Part of the Company are wholly
subdued by the Insurrections of those who know no
Satisfactions but what they have in common with all
other Animals. -
This is the Reason that when a Scene tending to
t . Procreation
106 THE SPECTATOR
o, 502.
londay,
-cto er
’IZ

Procreation is acted, you see the whole Pit in such a
Chuckle, and old Letchers, with Mouths open, stare at the
'loose Gesticulations on the Stage with shameful Earnest/
ness, when the iustest Pictures of Humane Life in its calm
Dignity, and the properest Sentiments for the Conduct of
'it, pass by like meer Narration, as conducing only to
somewhat much better which is to come after. I have
seen the whole House at some Times in so proper a
Disposition, that indeed I have trembled for the Boxes,
and feared the Entertainment would end in the Repre/
sentation of the Rape of the Sabines.
I would not be understood in this Talk to argue, that
Nothing is tolerable on the Stage but what has an
immediate Tendency to the Promotion of Virtue. On
the contrar , I can allow, provided there is Nothing
against the interests of Virtue, and is not offensive to
good Manners, that Things of an indifferent Nature may
be represented. For this Reason, I have no Exception to
the well/drawn Rusticities in the Country/ Wake; and
there is something so miraculously pleasant in Dogget's
acti the aukward Triumph and comick Sorrow of Hob
in d' erent Circumstances, that I shall not be able to stay
away whenever it is acted. All that vexes me is, that the
Gallantry of taking the Cudgels for Gloucestersbire, with
the Pride of Heart in tucking himself up, and taking Aim
at his Adversary, as well as the other's Protestation in
the Humanity of low Romance, That he could not promise
the Squire to break Hob’s Head, but he would, if he could,
do it in Love; then flourish and begin: Isay, what vexes
me is, that such excellent Touches as these, as well as the
Squire's being out of all Patience at Hob's Success, and
venturing himself into the Croud, are Circumstances
hardly taken'Notice of, and the Height of the Jest is only
in the very Point that Heads are broken, I am confident,
were there a Scene written, wherein Penketbman should
break his' Leg by wrestling with Bullock, and Dicky come
in to set it, without one Word said but what should be
according to the exact Rules of Surgery in making this
Extension, and binding up the Leg, the whole House
should be in a Roar of Applause at the dissembled Anguish
of the Patient, the Help given by him who threr him
QWQ
THE SPECTATOR 107
down, and the handy Address and arch Looks of the No. 502.
Surgeon.
Embattling of Armies, the Noise of Heroes in Love, with 1
a thousand other Enormities, would be to transgress the
Bounds of this Paper, for which Reasons it is possible they
may have hereafter distinct Discourses; not forgetting
any of the Audience who shall set up for Actors, and
interrupt the Play on the Stage; and Players who shall
preferre the Applause of Fools to that of the reasonable
Part of the Company. T
No. 503.
[STEELE] Tuesday, October 7.
—-—-— Delco omnes dehinc ex animo mulieres.--Ter.
’ Mr. SPECTATOR,
OU have often mention’d with great Vehemence and
Indignation the Misbehaviour of People at Church;
but I am at present to talk to you on that Subject, and
complain to you of one, whom at the same Time I know
not what totaccuse of, except it be looking too well there,
and diverting the Eyes of the Congregation to that one
Object. However I have this to say, that she might have
stayed at her own Parish, and not come to perplex those
who are otherwise intent upon their Duty.
Last Sunday was Sevenight I went into a Church
not far from LondonaBridge; but I wish I had been con/
tented to go to my own Parish, I am sure it had been
better for me: I say I went to Church thither, and got
into a Pew very near the Pulpit. I had hardly been
accommodated with a Seat, before there entered into the
Isle a young Lady in the very Bloom of Youth and
Beauty, and dressed in the most elegant Manner imagin/
able. Her Form was such, that it engaged the Eyes of
the whole Congregation in an Instant, and mine among
the rest. Tho’ we were all thus fixed upon her, she was
not in the least out of Countenance, or under the least
Disorder, tho' unattended by any one, and not seeming to
know particularly where to place her self. However she
had not in the least a confident Aspect, but moved a;
w
To enumerate the Entrance of Ghosts, the Mmth
ctober t
712.
108 THE SPECTATOR
o. 503.
with the most graceful Modesty, every one making Way,
UeSdaY: ’till she came to a Seat just overagainst that in whichI
ctober
12.
' was placed.
The Deputy of the Ward sat in that Pew, and
she stood opposite to him; and at a Glance into the Seat,
tho' she did not appear the least acquainted with the
Gentleman, was let in, with a Confusion that spoke much
Admiration at the Novelty of the Thing. The Service
immediately began, and she composed her self for it with
an Air of so much Goodness and Sweetness, that the
Confession, which she uttered so as to be heard where I
sate, appeared an Act of Humiliation more than she had
Occasion for. The Truth is, her Beauty had Something
so innocent, and yet so sublime, that we all gazed upon
her like a Phantom. None of the Pictures which we
behold of the best Italian Painters, have any Thing like
the Spirit which appeared in her Countenance, at the
different Sentiments expressed in the several Parts of
divine Service: That Gratitude and Joy at a Thanksgiving,
that Lowliness and Sorrow at the Prayers for the Sick and
Distressed, that Triumph at the Passages which gave Ina
stances of the divine Mercy, which appeared respectively
in her Aspect, will be in my Memory to my last Hour.
I protest to you, Sir, she suspended the Devotion of every
one around her; and the Ease she did every Thing with,
soon dispersed the churlish Diser and Hesitation in
approving what is excellent, too frequent amongst us, to a
general Attention and Entertainment in observing her
Behaviour. All the While that we were gazing at her,
she took Notice of no Object about her, but had an Art
of seeming aukwardly attentive, whatever else her Eyes
were accidentally thrown upon. One Thing indeed was
particular, she stood the whole Service, and never kneeled
or sate. I do not question but that was to shew her self
with the greater Advantage, and set forth to better Grace
her Hands and Arms, lifted up with the most ardent de/
votion, and her Bosom, the fairest that ever was seen,
bare to Observation; while she, you must think, knew
Nothing of the Concern she gave others any other than
as an Example of Devotion, that threw her self out, with.
out Regard to Dress or Garment, all Contrition, and loose
of all worldly Regards, in-Extasy of Devotion. Well, ntohw
, v _ e
THE SPECTATOR 109
the Organ was to play a Voluntary, and she was so skilful No. 503. ‘
in Musick, and so touched with it, that she kept Time, Tuesdang
not only with some Motion of her Head, but also with a gféwer
different Air in her Countenance. When the Musick '
was strong and bold, she looked exalted, but serious;
when lively and airy, she was smiling and gracious;
when the Notes were more soft and languishing, she was
kind and full of Pity. When she had now made it visible
to the whole Congregation, by her Motion and Ear, that
she could dance, and she wanted now only to inform us
that she could sing too, when the Psalm was given out,
her Voice was distinguished above all the rest, or rather
People did not exert their own in order to hear her.
Never was any heard so sweet and so strong. The
Organist observed it, and he thought fit to play to her
only, and she swelled every Note; when she found she
had thrown us all out, and had the last Verse to herself
in such a Manner, as' the whole Congregation was intent
upon her, in the same Manner as you see in Cathedrals
they are on the Person who sings alone the Anthem.
Well, it came at last to the Sermon, and our young Lady
would not lose her Part in that neither; for she fixed her
Eye upon the Preacher, and as he said any Thing she
approved, with one of Charles Mather's fine Tablets she
set down the Sentence, at once shewing her fine Hand,
the Golden/Pen, her Readiness in Writing, and her judg/
ment in chusing what to write. To sum up what I intend
by this long and particular Account,I mean to appeal to
you, whether it is reasonable that such a Creature as
this shall come from a janty Part of the Town, and give
her self such violent Airs, to the Disturbance of an inno/
cent and inoffensive Congregation, with her Sublimities.
The Fact, I assure you, was as I have related; but I
had like to have forgot another very considerable Par»
ticular. Assoon as Church was done, she immediately
stept out of her Pew, and fell into the finest pitty/pat Air,
forsooth, wonderfully out of Countenance, tossing her
Head up and down as she swam along the Body of the
Church. I, with several others of the Inhabitants,
follow’d her out, and saw her hold up her Fan to an
HackneyaCoach at a Distance, who immediately came
7 t , up
no THE SPECTATOR
0- 503. up to her, and she whipp'd into it with great Nimbleness,
“$5327? pull’d the Door with a bowing Mein, as if she had been
7T2? r ’ used to a better Glass. She said aloud, You know where
to go, and drove off. By this Time the best of the
Congregation was at. the Church/Door, and I could hear
some say, A very fine Lady; others, I’ll warrant ye,
she's no better than she shou'd be; and one very wise
old Lady said, She ought to have been taken up. Mr.
SPECTATOR, I think this Matter lies wholly before you; for
_ the Offence does not come under any Law, tho' it is
apparent this Creature came among us only to give
herself Airs, and enjoy her full Swing in being admired.
I desire you would print this, that she maybe confin'd to
her own Parish; for I can assure you, there is no at/
tending any Thing else in a Place where she is a Novelty.
She has been talk’d of among us ever since under the
Name of the Phantom: But I would advise her to come
no more; for there is so strong a Party made by the
Women against her, that she must expect they will not
be excell'd a second Time in so outragious a Manner
without doing her some Insult. Young Women, who
assume after this Rate, and affect exposing themselves
to View in Congregations at t'oth'er End of the Town,
are not so mischievous, because they are rivall'd by
more of the same Ambition, who will not let the rest of
the Company be particular: But, in the Name of the
whole Congregation where I was, I desire you to keep
these agreeable Disturbances out of the City, where
Sobriety of Manners is still preserv'd, and all glaring
and ostentatious Behaviour, even in Things laudable,
discountenanc’d. I wish you may never see the
Phantom, and am,
Sir,
Your most humble Servant,
T . Ralph Wonder.’
Wednesday
THE SPECTATOR 111
NO: NO:
[STEELE] Wednesday, October 8. $7653"
aY
Lepus tute es, 8 pulpamentum quaeris.—Ter. IO7§£bber
- T is a great Convenience to those who want Wit
to furnish out a Conversation, that there is Something
or other in all Companies where it is wanted substituted
in its Stead, which, according to their Taste, does the
Business as well. Of this Nature is the agreeable Pastime
in the Country.Halls of Cross/Purposes, Questions and
Commands, and the like. A little superiour to these are
those who can play at Crambo, or cap Verses. Then
above them are such as can make Verses, that is Rhime;
and among those who have the Latin Tongue, such as
used to make what they call golden Verses. Commend
me also to those who have not Brains enough for any of
these Exercises, and yet do not give up their Pretensions
to Mirth. These can slap you on the back unawares,
laugh loud, ask you how you do with a Twang on your
Shoulders, say you are dull to Day, and laugh a Voluntary
to put you in Humour; the laborious Way among the
minor Poets, of making Things come into such and
such a Shape, as that of an Egg, an Hand, an Ax, or any
Thing that no Body had ever thought on before for that
Purpose, or which would have cost a great Deal of Pains
to accomplish it if they did. But all these Methods, tho’
they are mechanical, and may be arrived at with the
smallest Capacity, do not serve an honest Gentleman who
wants Wit for his ordinary Occasions; therefore it is
absolutely necessary that the Poor in Imagination should
have Something which may be serviceable to them at
all Hours upon all common Occurrences. That which
we call Punning is therefore greatly affected by Men of
small Intellects. These Men need not be concerned with
you for the whole Sentence, but if they can say a
quaint Thing, or bring in a Word which sounds like any
one Word you have spoken to them, they can turn the
Discourse, or distract you so that you cannot go on, and
by Consequence if they cannot be as witty as you are,
they can hinder your being any wittier than they are.
Thus if you talk of a Candle, he can deal with you; an;
112 THE SPECTATOR
.504. if you ask to help you to some Bread, a Punster should
ednes’ think himself very ill bred if he did not; and if he is not
X'ober 8’ as well bred as your self, he hopes for Grains of Allow/
ance. If you do not understand that last Fancy, you
must recollect that Bread is made of Grain; and so they
go on for ever, without Possibility of being exhausted.
There are another Kind of People of small Faculties,
who supply Want of Wit with Want of Breeding; and
because Women are both by Nature and Education more
offended at any Thing which is immodest than we Men
are, these are ever harping upon Things they ought not
to allude to, and deal mightily in double Meanings. Every
one's own Observation will suggest Instances enough of
this Kind, without my mentioning any; for your double
Meaners 'are dispersed up and down through all Parts of
Town or City where there are any to offend, in order to
set off themselves. These Men are mighty loud Laughers,
and held very pretty Gentlemen with the sillier and unbred
Part of Womankind. But above all already mentioned, or
any who ever were, or ever can be in the World, the
happiest and surest to be pleasant are a Sort of People
whom we have not indeed lately heard much of, and
those are your Biters.
A Biter is one who tells you a Thing you have no
Reason to disbelieve in it self; and perhaps has given
you, before he bit you, no Reason to disbelieve it for
his saying it; and if you give him Credit, laughs in
your Face, and triumphs that he has deceived you. In
a Word, a Biter is one who thinks you a Fool, because
you do not think him a Knave. This Description of
him one may insist upon to be a just one, for what else
but a Degree of Knavery is it, to depend upon Deceit for
what you gain of another, be it in Point of Wit or Interest,
or any Thing else? _
This Way of Wit is called Biting, by a Metaphor taken
from Beasts of Prey, which devour harmless and unarm’d
Animals, and look upon them as, their Food wherever
they meet them. The Sharpers about Town very ingen/
iously understood themselves to be to the undesigning
Part of Mankind what Foxes are to Lambs, and therefore
used the Word Biting to express any Exploit wherein
they
THE SPECTATOR 113-
they had over/reach'd any innocent and inadvertent Man No. 504;
of his Purse. These Rascals of late Years have been the Wednev
Gallants of the Town, and carry'd it with a fashionable dax'b ,
haughty Air, to the Discouragement of Modesty and all 17:2? honest Arts. Shallow Fops, who are govern'd by the
Eye, and admire every Thing that struts in Vogue, took
up from the Sharpers the Phrase of Biting, and used it
upon all Occasions, either to disown any nonsensical
Stuff they should talk themselves, or evade the Force of
what Was reasonably said by others. Thus when one
of these cunning Creatures was enter'd into a Debate
with you, whether it was practicable in the present State
of Affairs to accomplish such a Proposition, and you
thought he had let fall what destroy’d his Side of the
Question, as soon as you look'd with an Earnestness
ready to lay hold of it, he immediately cry’d, Bite, and
you were immediately to acknowledge all that Part was
in Jest. They carry this to all the Extravagance imagin/
able, and if one of these Witlings knows any Particulars
which may give Authority to what he says, he is still
the more ingenious if he imposes upon your Credulity.
I remember a remarkable Instance of this Kind. There
came up a shrewd young Fellow to a plain young Man,
his Countr man, and taking him aside with a grave
concern'd ebuntenance, goes on at this Rate: I see you
here, and have you heard Nothing out of Yorkshire~
You look so surpriz'd you could not have heard of it—-
and yet thev Particulars are such, that it cannot be false:
I am sorr I am got into it so far, that I now must tell
you; but know not but it may be for your Service to
know—— On Tuesday last, just after Dinner—you know
his Manner is to smoke, opening his Box, your Father
fell down dead in an Apoplexy. The Youth shew'd the
filial Sorrow which he ought— Upon which the witty
Man cry’d, Bite, there was Nothing in all this— '
To put an End to this silly, pernicious, frivolous Way
at once, I will give the Reader one late Instance of a
Bite, which no Biter for the future will ever be able to
equal, tho' I heartily wish him the same Occasion. It is
a Superstition with some Surgeons, who beg the Bodies
of condemn'd Malefactors, to go to the Goal, and bargain
IV. H 01‘
114 , THE SPECTATOR
OI ednesa
Ytbber 8,
12.
for the Carkass with the Criminal himself. A good
honest Fellow did so last Sessions, and was admitted to
the condemn'd Men on the Morning wherein they died.
The Surgeon communicated his Business, and fell into
Discourse with a little Fellow, who refused Twelve
Shillings, and insisted upon Fifteen for his Body. The
Fellow, who kill'd the Officer of Newgate, very forwardly,
and like a Man who was willing to deal,qtold him, Look
you, Mr. Surgeon, that little dry Fellow, who has been
half/starv'd all his Life, and is now half dead with Fear,
cannot answer your Purpose. I have ever lived high
and freely, my Veins are full, I have not pin'd in Inv
prisonment; you see my Crest swells to your Knife, and
after lack/Catch has done, upon my Honour you'll find
_ me as sound as e'er a Bullock in any of the Markets.
Come, for Twenty Shillings I am your man— Says the
Sur eon, Done, there's a Guinea— This witty Rogue took
the oney, and-assoon as he had it in his Fist, cries, Bite,
I am to be hang’d in Chains.

No. 505.
[ADDISQN.] Thursday, October 9.
Non habeo denique nauci Marsum augurem,
Non vicanos haruspices, non de circo astrologos,
Non Isiacos conjectores, non interpretes somnium 1
Non enim sunt ii aut scientia, aut arte divini,
Sed superstitiosi vates, impudentesque harioli.
Aut inertes, aut insani, aut quibus egestas imperat:
Qui sui quaestus causa fictas suscitant sententias,
Qui sibi semitam non sapiunt, alteri monstrant viam :
Quibus divitias pollicentur, ab iis drachmam ipsi petunt;
De his dividis sibi deducant drachmam, reddant cetera.—Ennius
HOSE who have maintained that Men would be
more miserable than Beasts, were their Hopes con.
fined to this Life only; among other Considerations take
Notice, that the latter are only afflicted with the Anguish
of the present Evil, whereas the former are very often
pained by the Reflection on what is passed, and the Fear
of what is to come. This Fear of any future Difficulties
or Misfortunes is so. natural to the Mind, that were a
Man’s Sorrows and Disquietudes summed up at the Enc; ‘
o
THE SPECTATOR 115
of his Life, it would generally be found that he had No. 505.
suffered more from the Apprehension of such Evils as Thursda
never happened to him, than from those Evils which had Sigh“
really befallen him. To this we may add, that among
those Evils which befall us, there are many that have been
more painful to us in the Prospect, than by their actual
Pressure.
This natural Impatience to look into Futurity, and to
_ know what Accidents ma happen to us hereafter, has
given Birth to many ri iculous Arts and Inventions.
Some found their Prescience on the Lines of a Man’s Hand,
others on the Features of his Face; some on the Signan
tures which Nature has impressed on his Body, and others
on his own Hand/Writing: some read Men's Fortunes
in the Stars, as others have searched after them in the
Entrails of Beasts, or the Flights of Birds. Men of the best
Sense have been touched, more or less, with these groundw
less Horrors and Presages of Futurity, upon Surveying
the most indifferent Works of Nature. Can any Thing
be more surprizing than to consider Cicero, who made the
greatest Figure at the Bar, and in the Senate of the Roman
Commonwwealth, and, at the same Time, outshined all the
Philosophers of Antiquity in his Library and in his
Retirements, as busying himself in the College of Augurs,
and observing, with a religious Attention, after what
Manner the Chickens peckt the several Grains of Corn
which were thrown to them?
Notwithstanding these Follies are pretty well worn out
of the Minds of the Wise and Learned in the present Age,
Multitudes of weak and ' norant Persons are still Slaves
to them. There are Num erless Arts of Prediction among
the Vulgar, which are too trifling to enumerate, and in.
finite Observations of Days, Numbers, 'Voices and Figures,
which are regarded by them as Portents and Prodigies.
In short, every Thing prophesies to the superstitious Man;
there is scarce a Straw or a rusty Piece" of Iron that lies in
his Way by Accident. '
, It is not to be conceived how many Wizards, Gypsies
and Cunn' Men are dispersed through all the Countries
and Markle‘f/gl'owns of Great/Britain, not to mention the
Fortune/Tellers . and Astrologers, who live very comfort/

ably
116 THE SPECTATOR

a. 505, ably upon the Curiosity of several well/disposed Persons
lyisda- . in the Cities of London and Westminster.
1 Cr 1
Among the many pretended Arts of Divination, there
is none which so universally amuses as that by Dreams.
I have indeed observed in a late Speculation that there
have been sometimes, upon very extraordinary Occasions,
supernatural Revelations made to certain Persons by this
Means; but as it is the chief Business of this Paper to root
out popular Errors, I must endeavour to expose the Folly
and Superstition of those Persons, who, in the common and
ordinary Course of Life, lay any Stress upon Things of so
uncertain, shadowy and chimerical a Nature. This I
cannot do more effectually than by the following Letter,
which is dated from a Quarter of the Town that has
always been the Habitation of some prophetick Philomath;
it having been usual, Time out of Mind, for all such
People as have lost their Wits, to resort to that Place either
for their Cure or for their Instruction.
Moor/Fields, October 4, 1712.
Having long considered whether there be any Trade
wanting in this great City, after having surveyed very
attentively all Kinds of Ranks and Professions, I do not
find in any Quarter of the Town an Oneirocritick, or, in
plain English, an Interpreter of Dreams. For Want of so
useful a Person, there are several good People who are
very much puzzled in this Particular, and dream a whole
car together without being ever the wiser for it. I hope
Yam pretty well, qualified for this Office, having studied by
Candle/light all the Rules of Art which have been laid
down upon this Subject. My great Unckle by my Wife's
Side was 'a Scotch Highlander, and second Si hted. I
have four Fingers and two Thumbs upon one and, and
was born on the longest Night of the Year. My
Christian and Sirname begin and end with the same
Letters. Iam lodged in Moor/fields, in a House that
for these fifty Years has been always tenanted by a
Conjuror.
If you had been in Company, so much as my self,
with ordinary Women of the Town, you must know that
there are many of them who every Day in their Lives,
upon
‘ Mr. SPECTATOR,
THE SPECTATOR 117
upon Seeing or Hearing of any Thing that is unexpected, No. 505
cry my Dream is out; and cannot go to Sleep in quiet Thursdi
the next Night, ’till Something or other has happened 2‘3"“?
~ which has expounded the Visions of the preceding one. '
There are others who are in very great Pain for not
being able to recover the Circumstances of a Dream, that
made strong Impressions upon them while it lasted. In
short, Sir, there are many whose waking Thoughts are
wholly employed on their sleeping ones. For the
Benefit therefore of this curious and inquisitive Part of
my Fellow/Subjects, I shall in the first Place tell those
Persons what they dreamt of, who fancy they never
dream at all. In the next Place, I shall make out any
Dream, upon hearing a single Circumstance of it; and in
the last Place, shall expound to them the good or bad
Fortune which such Dreams portend. If they do not
presage good Luck, I shall desire nothing for my Pains;
not questioning at the same Time that those who consult
me will be so reasonable as to afford me a moderate Share
out of any considerable Estate, Profit or Emolument which
I shall thus discover to them. I Interpret to the Poor for
Nothing, on Condition that their Names may be inserted
in Publick Advertisements, to attest the Truth of such my
Interpretations. As for People of Quality or others who
are indisposed, and do not care to come in Person, I can
interpret their Dreams by seeing their Water. I set aside
one Day in the Week for Lovers; and interpret by the
Great for any Gentlewoman who is turned of Sixty, after
the Rate of half a Crown per Week, with the usual
Allowances for good Luck. I have several Rooms and
Apartments fitted up, at reasonable Rates, for such as
have not Conveniencies for dreaming at their own
Houses.
N. B. I. am not. dumb.
O , ,Titus Trophonius.’
Friday
118 .
THE SPECTATOR
I. 506.
day
tzobei 10,
No. 506.
Friday, October 10.
Candida perpetuo reside, Concordia, lecto,
Tamque pari semper sit Venus aequa iugo:
Diligat illa senem quondam, sed t‘i ipsa marito
Tune quoque, cum fuerit, non videatur anus.—Mart.
THE following Essay is written by the Gentleman, to
whom the World is obliged for those several
Excellent Discourses which have been marked with the
Letter X.
I have somewhere met with a Fable that made Wealth
the Father of Love. It is certain a Mind ought, at
least, to be free from the Apprehensions of Want and
Poverty, before it can fully attend to all the Softnesses and
Endearments of this Passion. Notwithstanding we see
Multitudes of married People, who are utter Strangers to
this delightful Passion, amidst all the Affluence of the
most plentiful Fortunes.
It is not sufficient to make a Marriage happy, that the
Humours of two People should be alike; I could instance
an hundred Pair, who have not the least Sentiment of
Love remaining for one another, yet are so like in their
Humours, that if they were not already married, the
whole World would design them for Man and Wife.
The Spirit of Love has Something so extreamly fine
in it, that it is very often disturbed and lost, by some little
Accidents which the careless and unpolite never attend to,
'till it is gone past Recovery.
Nothing has more contributed to banish it from a
married State, than too great a Familiarity, and laying .
aside the common Rules of Decency. Tho' I could give
Instances of this in several Particulars, I shall only men.
tion that of Dress. The Beaus and Belles about Town,
who dress purely to catch one another, think there is no
- farther Occasion for the Bait, when their first Design has
succeeded. But besides the too common Fault in point
of Neatness, there are several others which I do not
remember to have seen touched upon, but in one of our
modern Comedies, where a French Woman offering to
undress and dress her self before the Lover of the Play,
and
THE SPECTATOR 119

and assuring his Mistress that it was very usual in No. 506
France, the Lady tells her, that’s a Secret in Dress she Fridan
never knew before, and that she was so unpolished an 83°“?
English Woman, as to resolve never to learn even to ' *
dress before her Husband.
There is Something so gross in the Carriage of some
Wives, that they lose their Husbands’ Hearts for Faults,
which, if a Man has either Good/nature, or Good/breeding,
he knows not how to tell them of. I am afraid, indeed,
the Ladies are enerally most faulty in this Particular;
who, at their first giving into Love, find the Way so
smooth and pleasant, that they fancy 'tis scarce possible to
be tired in it.
There is so much Nicety and Discretion required to
keep Love alive after Marriage, and make Conversation
still new and agreeable after Twenty or Thirty Years,
that I know Nothing which seems readily to promise it,
but an earnest Endeavour to please on both Sides, and
superior good Sense on the Part of the Man.
By a Man of Sense, I mean one acquainted with
Business and Letters.
A Woman very much settles her Esteem for a Man,
according to the Figure he makes in the World, and the
Character he bears among his own Sex. As Learning
is the chief Advantage we have over them, it is, methinks,
as scandalous and inexcusable for a Man of Fortune to be
illiterate, as for a Woman not to know how to behave
her self on the most ordinary Occasions. It is this
which sets the two Sexes at the greatest Distance; a
Woman is vexed and surprised, to find Nothing more in
the Conversation of a Man, than in the common Tattle of
her own Sex. .
Some small Engagement at least in Business, not only
sets a Man's Talents in the fairest Light, and allots him
a Part to act, in which a Wife cannot well intermeddle,
but gives frequent Occasions for those little Absences,
which, whatever seeming Uneasiness they may give, are
some of the best Preservatives of Love and Desire.
The Fair Sex are so conscious to themselves, that they
have Nothing in them which can deserve entirely to
engross the whole Man, that they heartily despise 0111:,
w o

120 THE SPECTATOR
o. 506. who, to use their own Expression, is always hanging at
“idaYu their Apron/Strings.
Ewe” 10' Laetitia is pretty, modest, tender, and has Sense enough;
' she married Erastus, who is in a Post of some Business,
and has a general Taste in most Parts of polite Learning.
Latitia, where/ever she visits, has the Pleasure to hear
of Something which was handsomly said or done by
Erastus. Erastus, since his Marriage, is more gay in
his Dress than ever, and in all Companies is as complais/
ant to Laetitia as to any other Lady. I have seen him
give her her Fan when it has dropped, with all the
Gallantry of a Lover. When they take the Air together,
Erastus is continually improving her Thoughts, and,
with a Turn of Wit and Spirit which is peculiar to him,
giving her an Insight into Things she had no Notions of
before. Laetitia is transported at havin a new World
thus opened to her, and hangs upon the an that gives
'her such agreeable Informations. Erastus has carried
this Point still farther, as he makes her daily not only
more fond of him, but infinitely more satisfied with her
self. Erastus finds a Justness or Beauty in whatever She
says or observes, that Laetitia her self was not aware of;
and, by his Assistance, she has discovered an hundred
good Qualities and Accomplishments in her self, which
she never before once dreamed of. Erastus, with the
most artful Complaisance in the World, by several remote
Hints, finds the Means tomake her say or propose altnost
whatever he has a' Mind to, which he always receives as
her own Discovery, and gives her all the Reputation of it.
Erastus has a perfect Taste in Painting, and carried
Laetitia with him, the other Day, to see a Collection of
Pictures: I sometimes visit this happy Couple. As we
were last Week walking in the long Gallery before
Dinner, I have lately laid out some Many in Paintings,
says Erastus, I bought that Venus and Adonis purely
upon Laetitia'sjudgment; it costme Three/score Guineas,
and I was this Morning offer’d an hundred for it. I
turned towards Laetitia, and saw her Cheeks glow with
Pleasure, while at the same Time she cast a Look upon
Erastus, the most tender and affectionate I ever beheld.
- Fla villa married Tom Ta wdry; she was taken with
_ . his

THE SPECTATOR 121
his laced Coat and rich Sword/knot; she has the Morti/ No. 506.
fication to see Tom despised by all the worthy Part of his Friday.
own Sex. Tom has Nothing to do after Dinner, but to $7?be
determine whether he will pair his Nails at St. james’s, '
White's, or his own House. He has said Nothing to
Fla villa since they were married, which she might not
have heard as well from her own Woman. He howa
ever takes great Care to keep up the sawcy ill/natured
Authority of an Husband. Whatever Fla villa happens
to assert, Tom immediately contradicts with an Oath, by
Way of Preface; and, My Dear, I must tell you, you talk
most confoundedly silly. Flavilla had an Heart naturally
as well disposed for all the Tenderness of Love as that of
Laetitia, but as Love seldom continues long after Esteem,
it is difficult to determine, at present, whether the unhappy
Fla villa hates or despises the Person most, whom she
is obliged to lead her whole Life with.
NO: [ADDISON.] Saturday, October 11.
Defendit numerus functaeque umbone phalanges.—Juv.
THERE is Something very sublime, tho' very fanciful,
in Pla to's Description of the Supreme Being, that
Truth is his Body, and Light his Shadow. According
to this Definition, there is Nothing so contradictory to his
Nature as Error and Falshood. The Platonists have so
just a Notion of the Almighty's Aversion to every Thing
which is false and erroneous, that they looked upon Truth
as no less necessary than Virtue, to qualifie an Human
Soul for the Enjoyment of a separate State. For this
Reason, as they recommended moral Duties to qualifie
and season the Will for a future Life, so they prescribed
several Contemplations and Sciences to rectifie the Under»
standing. Thus Plato has called Mathematical Demon.
strations the Catharticks or Purgatives of the Soul, as
being the most proper Means to cleanse it from Error,
and to give it a Relish of Truth, which is the natural Food
and Nourishment of the Understanding, as Virtue is the
Perfection and Happiness of the Will.
There are many Authors who have shewn wherehin
e
122 THE SPECTATOR

is. 507. the Malignity of a Lie consists, and set forth, in proper
lamrdayt Colours, the Heinousness of the Offence. I shall here
fiber 11' consider one particular Kind of this Crime, which has not
' been so much spoken to: I mean, that abominable Practice
of Party/lying. This Vice is so very predominant among
us at present, that a Man is thought of no Principles, who
does not propagate a certain System of Lies. The Coffee!
houses are supported by them, the Press is choaked with
them, eminent Authors live upon them. Our Bottle/
Conversation is so infected with them, that a Partwaie is
grown as fashionable an Entertainment, as a lively Catch
or a merry Story: The Truth of it is, half the great
Talkers in the Nation would be struck dumb, were this
Fountain of Discourse dryed up. There is, however, one
Advantage resulting from this detestable Practice; the
very Appearances of Truth are so little regarded, that Lies
are at present discharged in the Air, and begin to hurt no
Body. When we hear a Party/story from a Stranger, we
consider whether he is a Whig or a Tory that relates
it, and immediately conclude they are Words of Course,
in which the honest Gentleman designs to recommend
his Zeal, without an Concern for his Veracity. A Man'
is looked upon as ereft of common Sense, that gives
Credit to the Relations of Party/writers, nay his own
Friends shake their Heads at him, and consider him in
no other Light than as an officious Tool or a well/meaning
Ideot. When it was formerly the Fashion to husband a
Lie, and trump it up in some extraordinary Emergency,
it generally did Execution, and was not a little serviceable
to the Faction that made use of it; but at present every
Man is upon his Guard; the Artifice has been too often
repeated to take Effect.
I have frequently wondred to see Men of Probity, who
would scorn to utter a Falshood for their own particular
Advantage, give so readily into a Lie when it becomes
the Voice of their Faction, notwithstanding they are
thoroughly sensible of it as such- How is it possible
for those, who are Men of Honour 'in their Persons, thus
to become notorious Liars in their Party? If we look
into the Bottom of this Matter, we may find, I think,
three Reasons for it, and at the same Time discover the
Insufficiency
THE SPECTATOR 123
Insufficiency of these Reasons to justifie so criminal a No. 507.
Saturdayl,
Practice.
In the first Place, Men are apt to think that the Guilt of $7554?
a Lie, and consequently the Punishment, may be very
much diminished, if not wholly worn out, by the Multi/
tudes of those who partake in it. Though the Weight of
a Falshood would be too heavy for one to bear, it grows
light in their Imaginations, when it is shared among
many. But in this Case a Man very much deceives
himself; Guilt, when it spreads through Numbers, is not
so properly divided as multiplied: Every one is criminal
in roportion to the Offence which he commits, not to the
Number of those who are his Companions in it. Both
the Crime and the Penalty lie as heavy upon every
Individual of an offending Multitude, as they would upon
any single Person, had none shared with him in the
Offence. In a Word, the Division of Guilt is like that
of Matter, though it may be separated into infinite Por/
tions, every Portion shall have the whole Essence of
Matter in it, and consist of as many Parts as the Whole
did before it was divided.
But in the second Place, though Multitudes, who joyn
in a Lie, cannot exempt themselves from the Guilt, they
may from the Shame of it. The Scandal of a Lie is in a
Manner lost and annihilated, when diffused among several
Thousands; as a Drop of the blackest Tincture wears
away and vanishes, when mixed and confused in a con;
siderable Body of Water: The Blot is still in it, but is not
able to discover it self. This is certainly a very great
Motive to several Party/Offenders, who avoid Crimes, not
as they are prejudicial to their Virtue, but to their Reputaa
tion. It is enough to shew the Weakness of this Reason,
which palliates Guilt without removing it, that every
,Man, who is influenced by it, declares himself in Effect
an infamous Hypocrite, prefers the Appearance of Virtue
to its Reality, and is determined in his Conduct neither by
the Dictates of his own Conscience, the Suggestions of
true Honour, nor the Principles of Religion. >
The third and last great Motive for Men’s joining in a
opular Falshood, or, as I have hitherto called it, a Party/
Lie, notwithstanding they are convinced of it as suchléhis
e
124 THE SPECTATOR
lo. 507. the doing Good to a Cause which every Party may be
aturday,
>cto
712.
ber
supposed to look upon as the most meritorious. The
' Unsoundness of this Principle has been so often exposed,
and is so universally acknowledged, that a Man must
be an utter Stranger to the Principles, either of natural
Religion or Christianity, who suffers himself to be guided
by it. If a Man might promote the supposed Good of his
Country by the blackest Calumnies and Falshoods, our
Nation abounds more in Patriots than any other of the
Christian World. When Pompey was desired not to set
sail in a Tempest that would hazard his Life, It is
necessary for me, says he, to sail, but it is not necessary
for me to live : Every Man should say to himself, with
the same Spirit, It is my Duty to speak Truth, tho' it is
not my Duty to be in an Office. One of the Fathers have
carried this Point so high, as to declare he would not tell
a Lie, though he were sure to gain Heaven by it:
However extravagant such Protestation may appear, every
one will own, that a Man may say very reasonably he
would not tell a Lie, if he were sure to gain Hell by
it; or if you have a Mind to soften the Expression, that
he would not tell a Lie to gain any temporal Reward by
it, when he should run the hazard of losing much more
than it was possible for him to gain. O
No. 508.
[STEELE] Monday, October 13.
Omnes autem d habentur 6' dicuntur tyranni, qui potestate sunt
perpetua in ea civitate quae libertate usa est.—Corn. Nepos.
HE following Letters complain of what I have
frequently observed with very much Indignation;
therefore I shall give them to the Publick in the Words
with which my Correspondents, who suffer under the
Hardships mentioned in them, describe them.
' Mr. SPEcrAToR,
In former Ages all Pretensions to Dominion have been
supported and submitted to, either upon Account of In»
heritance, Conquest, or Election; and all such Persons
who have taken upon 'em any Soveraignty over their
Fellow/creatures
THE SPECTATOR 125
Fellow/creatures upon any other Account, have been No. 508.
always call'd Tyrants, not so much because they were Monday.
guilty of any particular Barbarities, as because every 825*“
Attempt to such a Superiority was in its Nature tyran. '
nical. But there is another Sort of Potentates who may
with greater Propriety be call'd Tyrants than those last
mention’d, both as they assume a despotick Dominion
over those as free as themselves, and as they support it
by Acts of notable Oppression and Injustice; and these
are the Rulers in all Clubs and Meetings. In other
Governments, the Punishments of some have been
alleviated by the Rewards of others; but what makes the
Reign of these Potentates so particularly grievous, is, that
they are exquisite in punishing their Subjects, at the same
Time they have it not in their Power to reward ’em.
That the Reader may the better comprehend the Nature
of these Monarchs, as well as the miserable State of those
that are their Vassals, I shall give an Account of the
King of the Company I am fallen into, whom for his
particular Tyranny I shall call Dionysius; as also of the
Seeds that sprung up to this odd Sort of Empire.
Upon all Meetings at Taverns, 'tis necessary some one
of the Company should take it upon him to get all Things
in such Order and Readiness, as may contribute as much
as possible to the Felicity of the Convention; such as
hastening the Fire, getting a sufficient Number of Candles,
tasting the Wine with a judicious Smack, fixing the Supper,
and being brisk for the Dispatch of it. Know then that
Dionysius went through these Offices with an Air that
seem'd to express a Satisfaction rather in serving the
Publick, than in gratifying any particular Inclination of
his own. We thought him a Person of an exquisite
Palate, and therefore by Consent beseech’d him to be
always our Proveditor; which Post, after he had hand.
somly denied, he could do no otherwise than accept.
At first he made no other Use of his Power than in
recommending such and such Things to the Company,
ever allowing these Points to be disputable; insomuch
that‘I have often carried the Debate for Partridge, when his
Majesty has given Intimation of the high Relish of Duck,
but at the same Time has chearfully submitted, and
devour’d

126 THE SPECTATOR
o. 508. devour'd his Partridge with most gracious Resignation.
°fldaYv This Submission on his Side naturally produc’d the like
cto er
12.
' on ours; of which he in a little Time made such bar/
barous AdVantage, as in all those Matters, which before
seem’d indifferent to him, to issue out certain Edicts as
uncontroulable and unalterable as the Laws of the
Medes and Persians. He is by Turns outragious,
peevish, froward, and jovial. He thinks it our Duty
for the little Offices, as Proveditor, that in Return all
Conversation is to be interrupted or promoted by his
Inclination for or against the present Humour of the
Company. We feel at present, in the utmost Extremity,
the Insolence of Office; however, I being naturally warm,
ventur’d to oppose him in a Dispute about a Haunch of
Venison. I was altogether for Roasting, but Dionysius
declared himself for Boiling with so much Prowess and
Resolution, that the Cook thought it necessary to consult
his own Safety, rather than the Luxury of my Proposition.
With the same Authority that he orders what we shall
eat and drink, he also commands us where to do it, and
we change our Taverns according as he suspects any
Treasonable Practices in the settling the Bill by the Master,
or sees any bold Rebellion in Point of Attendance by
the Waiters. Another Reason for changing the Seat of
Empire I conceive to be the Pride he takes in the pro/
mulgation of our Slavery, tho' we pay our Club for our
Entertainments even in these Palaces of our Grand
Monarch. When he has a Mind to take the Air, a
Party of us are commanded out by Way of Life/Guard,
and we march under as great Restrictions as they do. If
we meet a neighbouring King, we give or keep the Way
according as we are out/number'd or not; and if the Train
of each is equal in Number, rather than give Battle, the
Superiority is soon adjusted by a Desertion from one
of em.
Now, the Expulsion of these unjust Rulers out of all
Societies would gain a Man as everlasting a Reputation,
as either of the Brutus's got from their Endeavours to
extirpate Tyranny from among the Romans. I confess
my self to be in a Conspiracy against the Usurper of our
Club; and to shew my Reading, as well as my merciful
Disposition

THE SPECTATOR 127
Disposition, shall allow him 'till the Ides of March to No. 508.
dethrone himself. If he seems to affect Empire 'till MmdaY.
that Time, and does not gradually recede from the In/ 8.??13“ 1‘
cursions he has made upon our Liberties, he shall find a '
Dinner dress’d which he has no Hand in, and shall be
treated with an Order, Magnificence, and Luxury, as shall
break his proud Heart; at the same Time that he shall be
convinced in his Stomach he was unfit for his Post, and a
more mild and skilful Prince receive the Acclamations of
the People, and be set up in his Room; but, as Milton
says,
—These Thoughts
Full Counsel must mature. Peace is despair’d,
And who can think Submission 7 War then, War
Open, or understood, must be resolv’d.
I am,

Sir,
Your most obedient humble Servant.’
‘ Mr. SPECTATOR,
I am a young Woman at a Gentleman's Seat in the
Country, who is a particular Friend of my Father’s, and
came hither to pass away a Month or two with his
Daughters. I have been entertained with the utmost
Civility by the whole Family, and Nothing has been
omitted which can make my Stay easy and agreeable on
the Part of the Family: But there is a Gentleman here, a
Visitant as I am, whose Behaviour has given me great
Uneasinesses. WhenI first arrived here he used me with
the utmost Complaisance; but, forsooth, that was not with
Regard to my Sex, and since he has no DeSigns upon me,
he does not know why he should distinguish me from a
Man in Things indifferent. He is, you must know, one
of those familiar Coxcombs, who have observed some
well/bred Men with a good Grace converse with Women,
and say no fine Things, but yet treat them with that Sort
of Respect which flows from the Heart and the Under!
standing, but is exerted in no Professions or Compliments.
This Pup ,y, to imitate this Excellence, or avoid the
contrary ault of being troublesome in Complahaife,
‘ ta es
128 \ THE SPECTATOR
. 508. takes upon him to try his Talent upon me, insomuch that
°ndaY1 he contradicts me upon all Occasions, and one Day told
i§°ber13' me I lied. If I had struck him with my Bodkin, and
' behaved my self like a Man, since he won't treat me as a
Woman, I had, I think, served him right. I wish, Sir, you
would please to give him some Maxims of Behaviour in
these Points, and resolve me if all Maids are not in Point
of Conversation to be treated by all Batchelors as their
Mistresses. If not so, are they not to be used as gently
as their Sisters? Is it sufferable, that the Fop of whom I
complain should say, as he would rather have such a one
without a Groat, than me with the Indies ! What Right
has any Man to make Suppositions of Things not in his
Power, and them declare his Will to the Dislike of one
that has never offended him? I assure you these are
Things worthy your Consideration, and I hope we shall
have your Thoughts upon them. I am, tho' a Woman,
justly offended, ready to forgive all this, because I have
no Remedy but leaving very agreeable Company sooner
than Idesire. This also is an heinous Aggravation of
his Offence, that he is inflicting Banishment upon me.
Your Printing this Letter may perhaps be an Admoni.
tion to reform him; Assoon as it appears I will write
my Name at the End of it, and lay it in his Way; the
making which just Reprimand I hope you will put in
the Power of, . .

Sir,
Your constant Reader,
T and humble Servant.
No. 509. e
[STEELE] Tuesday, October 14.
Hominis frugi d temperantis functus officium.—Ter.
' HE useful Knowledge in the following Letter shall
have a Place in my Paper, tho' there is Nothing in it
which immediately regards the polite or the learned World;
I say immediately, for upon Reflection every Man will
find there is a remote Influence upon his own Affairs, in
:the Prosperity or Decay,, of the Trading Part of Mankihrltld. ‘
Y
THE SPECTATOR 129
My present Correspondent, I believe, was never in Print No. 509.
before; but _what he says well deserves a general Atten/ Tuesdav.
tion, tho’ delivered in his own homely Maxims, and a gitfber 1‘
-. .Kind of proverbial Simplicity; which Sort of Learning '
, has raised more Estates than ever were, or will be, from
Attention to Virgil, Horace, Tully, Seneca, Plutarch, or
any 'of the rest, whom, I dare say, this worthy Citizen
would hold to be indeed ingenious, but unprofitable
Writers. But to the Letter.
‘Mr. WILLIAM SPECTATOR.
Sir, _ Broad/street, October 10. 1712.
I accuse you of many Discourses on the Subject of
Money, which you have heretofore promised the Publick,
but have not discharged your self thereof. But, forasmuch
as you seemed to depend upon Advice from others what
to do in that Point, have sate down to write you the Need/
ful upon that Subject. But, before I enter thereupon, I shall
take this Opportunity to observe to you, that the thriving
frugal Man shews it in every Part of his Expence, Dress,
Servants, and House; and I must, in the first Place, com/
plain to ou, as SPECTATOR, that in these Particulars there is
at this ime, throughout the 6% of London, a lamentable
Change from that Simplicity of anners, which is the true
Source of Wealth and Prosperity. Ijust now said the Man
of Thrift shews Regularity in every Thing; but you may,
perhaps, laugh that I take Notice of such a Particular as I
am going to do, for an Instance, that this City is declining,
if their ancient Oeconomy is not restored. The Thing
which gives me this Prospect, and so much Offence, is the
Neglect of the Royal Exchange, I mean the Edifice so
called, and the Walks appertaining thereunto. The Royal
Exchange is a Fabrick that well deserves to be so called,
as well to express that our Monarch's highest Glory and
Advantage consists in being the Patrons of Trade, as that
it is commodious for Business, and an Instance of the
Grandeur both of Prince and People. But, alas! at present
it hardly seems to be set a/part for any such Use
or Purpose. Instead of the Assembly of honourable
Merchants, substantial Tradesmen, and knowing Mastersi
IV. I O
130 THE SPECTATOR
o. 509. of Ships, the Mumpers, the Halt, the Blind, and the Lame,
09842135 your Venders of Trash, Apples, Plumbs, your Ragga,
fibeflh muffins, Rakeshames, and Wenches, have justled the
' greater Number of the former out of that Place. Thus it
is, especially on the EveningaChange; so that what ‘with ,
the Din of Squalings, Oaths, and Cries of Beggars, Men
of greatest Consequence in our City absent themselves
from the Place. This Particular, by the Way, is of evil
Consequence; for if the Change be no Place for Men of
the highest Credit to frequent, it will not be a Disgrace to
those of less Abilities to absent. I remember the Time
when rascally Company were kept out, and the unlucky
Boys with Toys and Balls were whipped away by a
Beadle. I have seen this done indeed of late, but then it
has been only to chase the Lads from Chuck, that the
Beadle might seize their Copper.
I must repeat the Abomination, that the Walnut Trade
is carry'd on by old Women within the Walks, which
makes the Place impassible by Reason of Shells and Trash.
The Benches around are so filthy, that no one can sit
down, yet the Beadles and Officers have the Impudence
at Christmas to ask for their Box, tho' they deserve the
Strapado. Ido not think it impertinent to have mentioned
this, because it speaks a Neglect in the Domestick Care of
the City, and the Domestick is the truest Picture of a Man
every where else.
But I designed to speak on the Business of Money and
Advancement of Gain. The Man roper for this, speak;
ing in the general, is of a sedate p ain good Understand.
ing, not apt to go out of his Way, but so behaving
himself at home, that Business may come to him. Sir
William Turner, that valuable Citizen, has left behind
him a most excellent Rule, and couched it in very few
Words, suited to the meanest Capacity. He would say,
Keep your Shop, and your Shop will keep you. It must
be confessed, that if a Man of a great Genius could add
Steadiness to his Vivacities, or substitute slower Men of
Fidelity to transact the methodical Part of his Affairs, such
a one would outstrip the rest of the World: But Business
and Trade is not to be managed by the same Heads which
write Poetry, and make Plans for the Conduct of Life in
general
THE SPECTATOR 131 '
= general. _ So, tho’ we are at this Day beholden to the late No.509.
witty and inventive Duke of Buckingham for the whole Tuesday.
Trade and Manufacture of Glass, yet I suppose there is no g§§°bfr14|
one will aver, that, were. his Grace yet living, they would '
not rather deal with my diligent Friend and Neighbour,
Mr. Gumley, for any Goods to be prepared and delivered
, on such a Day, than he would with that illustrious
% Mechanick abovemention'd.
No, No, Mr. SPEGFATOR, you Wits must not pretend to
i be rich; and it is possible the Reason may be, in some
Measure, because you despise, or at least you do not value
it enough to let it take up your chief Attention; which
the Trader must do, or lose his Credit, which is to him
what Honour, Reputation, Fame, or Glory is to other sort
of Men.
Ishall not speak to the Point of Cash it self, 'till I see
how you approve of these my Maxims in general: But, I
think, a Speculation upon manya Little makes a Mickle;
a Penny sav'd is a Penny got; Penny wise and Pound
foolish ; It is Need that makes the old Wife trot, would
be very useful to the World, and, if you treated them with
Knowledge, would be useful to your self, for it would
make Demands for your Paper among those who have no
_ Notion of it at present. But of these Matters more here»
after. If you did this, as you excel many Writersof the
present Age for Politeness, so you would outgo the Author
of the true Strops of Razors for Use.
I shall conclude this Discourse with an Explanation of a
Proverb, which by vulgar Errour is taken and used when
a Man is reduced to an Extremity, whereas the Propriety
of the Maxim is to use it when you would say, There is
Plenty, but you must make such a Choice, as not to hurt
another who is to come after you.
Mr. Tobias Hobson, from whom we have the Expres/
sion, was a very honourable Man, for I shall ever call
the Man so who gets an Estate honestly. Mr. Tobias
Hobson was a Carrier, and being a Man of great Abilities
and Invention, and one that saw where there might
good Profit arise, tho’ the duller Men overlooked it;
this ingenious Man was the first in this Island who let
out HackneyaHorses. He lived in Cambridge, and ob.
' serving
' 132
THE SPECTATOR
NO! Tuesday,
October14
[712.
serving that the Scholars rid hard, his Manner was to keep
a large Stable of Horses, with Boots, Bridles, and Whips,
'to furnish the Gentlemen at once, without going from
College to College to borrow, as they have done since the
Death of this worthy Man: I say, Mr. Hobson kept a
Stable of forty good Cattle always ready and fit for Travel.
ling; but when a Man came for an Horse, he was led into
the Stable, where there was great Choice, but he obliged
him to take the Horse which stood next to the Stable.
Door; so that every Customer was alike well served
according to his Chance, and every Horse ridden with
the same Justice: From whence it became a Proverb, when
what ought to be your Election was forced upon you, to
say, Hobson's Choice. This memorable Man stands drawn
in Fresco at an Inn (which he used) in Bishopsgatenstreet,
with an hundred Pound Bag under his Arm, with this
Inscription upon the said Bag, ~
The fruitful Mother of an hundred more.
Whatever Tradesman will try the Experiment, and
begin the Day after you publish this my Discourse to treat
his Customers all alike, and all reasonably and honestly, I
will ensure him the same Success.
I am, Sir,
Your loving Friend,
T Hezekiah Thrift.’
NO: [STEELE] Wednesday, October 15.

Si sapis
Neque praeterguam quas ipse amor molestias
Habet addas, illas quas habet recte feras.——Ter.
WAS the other Da driving in an Hack thro' Gerard.
I street, when my Eye was immediately catch'd with
the prettiest Object imaginable, the Face of a very fair Girl,
between Thirteen and Fourteen, fixed at the Chin to a
painted Sash, and made Part of the Landskip. It seem’d
admirably done, and upon throwing my self eagerly out
of the Coach to look at it, it laugh’d, and flung from the
Window. This amiable Figure dwelt upon me; and I
was
THE SPECTATOR 133
-was considering the Vanity of the Girl, and her leasant
Coquettry in acting a Picture 'till she was taken otice of,
and raised the Admiration of her Beholders. This little
Circumstance made me run into Reflections upon the
Force of Beauty, and the wonderful Influence the female
Sex has upon the other Part of the Species. Our Hearts
are seized with their Enchantments, and there are few
of us, but brutal Men, who by that Hardness lose the
chief Pleasure in them, can resist their Insinuations, tho'
never so much against our own Interest and Opinion. It
is common with Women to destroy the good Effects a
Man's following his own Way and Inclination might have
upon his Honour and Fortune, by interposing their Power
over him in Matters wherein they cannot influence him,
but to his Loss and Disparagement. I do not know there»
fore a Task so difficult in humane Life, as to be Proof
against the Importunities of a Woman a Man loves. There
is certainly no Armour against Tears, sullen Looks, or at
best constrain'd Familiarities in her whom you usually
meet with Transport and Alacrity. Sir Walter Rawleigh
was quoted in a Letter (of a ver ingenious espon/
'dent of mine) on this Subject. hat Author, who had
lived in Courts, Camps, travell'd throu h many Countries,
and seen many Men under several Elimates, and of as
various Complections, speaks of our Impotence to resist
the'Wiles of Women in very severe Terms. His Words
are as follow:
_ What Means did the Devil find out, or what Instrua
ments did his own Subtlety present him, as fittest and
aptest to work his Mischief by .’ Even the unquiet
Vanity of the Woman; so as by Adam's Hearkening
to the Voice of his W’ife, contrary to the express Com/
No. 510,
Wednes/
day,
OctoberlS
1712.
mandment of the living God, Mankind by that her,
Incantation became the Subject of Labour, Sorrow, and
Death; the Woman being given to Man for a Comforter
and Companion, but not for a Counsellor. It is also to
be noted by whom the Woman was tempted: Even by
the most ugly and unworthy of all Beasts, into whom
the Devil entered and perswaded. Secondly, What was
the Motive of her Disobedience? Even a Desire to know
what was most unfitting her Knowledge; an Affecltiozlz]
w 11c
\
l
134 THE SPECTATOR
No. 510. which has ever since remained in all the Posterity of
Wednest her Sex. Thirdly, What was it that moved the Man
gaz'b 15 to yield to her Perswasions .7, Even the same Cause
173' er ' which hath moved all Men 811106 to the like Consent,
namely, an Unwillingness to grieve her, or make her
sad, lest she should pine, and be overcome with Sorrow.
But if Adam in the State of Perfection, and Solomon the
Son of David, God’s chosen Servant, and himself a Man
endued with the greatest W'isdom, did both of them
disobey their Creator by the Perswasion and for the
Love they bare to a Woman, it is not so wonderful as
lamentable, that other Men in succeeding Ages have
been allured to so many inconvenient and wicked Prac/
tices by the Perswasion of their Wives, or other beloved
Darlings, who cover over and shadow many malicious
Purposes with a counterfeit Passion of dissim ulate
Sorrow and Unquietness.
The Motions of the Minds of Lovers are no where
so well described, as in the Works of skilful Writers for
the Stage. The Scene between Fulvia and Curius, in
the second Act of johnson’s Catiline, is an excellent
Picture of the Power of a Lady over her Gallant. The
Wench plays with his Affections; and as a Man of all
Places in the World wishes to make a good Figure with
his Mistress, upon her upbraiding him with Want of
Spirit, he alludes to Enterprizes which he cannot reveal
but with the Hazard of his Life. When he is worked
thus far, with a little Flattery of her Opinion of his
Gallantry, and Desire to know more of it out of her
overflowing Fondness to him, he brags to her 'till his
Life is in her Disposal.
When a Man is thus liable to be vanquished by the
Charms of her he loves, the safest Way is to determine
what is proper to be done, but to avoid all Expostula/
tion with her before he executes what he has resolved.
Women are ever too hard for us upon a Treaty, and one
must consider how senseless a Thing it is to argue with
one whose Looks and Gestures are more prevalent with
you, than your Reason and Arguments can be with her.
t is a most miserable Slavery to submit to what you
disapprove, and give up a Truth for no other Reason, but
that
THE SPECTATOR 135
that you had not Fortitude to support you in asserting it. No. 510.
A Man has enough to do to conquer his own unreasonable Wedms’
Wishes and Desires; but he does that in vain if he has doagt'éb e145
those of another to gratify. Let his Pride be in his Wife 1712, \
and Family, let him give them all the Conveniencies of
Life in such a Manner as if he were proud of them;
but let it be his own innocent Pride, and not their
exorbitant Desires, which are indulged by him. In this
Case all the little Arts imaginable are used to soften a
Man's Heart, and raise his Passion above his Under/
standing; but in all Concessions of this Kind, a Man
should consider whether the Present he makes flows
from his own Love, or the Importunity of his Beloved;
If from the latter, he is her Slave; if from the former,
her Friend. We laugh it off, and do not weigh this
Subjection to Women with that Seriousness which so
important a Circumstance deserves. Why was Courage
iven to Man, if his Wife's Fears are to frustrate it?
hen this is once indulged, you are no lon er her
Guardian and Protector, as you were designed by ature;
but, in Compliance to her Weaknesses, you have disabled
your self from avoiding the Misfortunes into which they
will lead you both, and you are to see the Hour in which
you are to be reproached by her self for that very Conv
plaisance to her. It is indeed the most difficult Mastery
over our selves we can possibly attain, to resist the
Grief of her who charms us; but let the Heart ake, be
the Anguish never so quick and painful, it is what must
be suffer'd and passed through, if you think to live like
a Gentleman, or be conscious to your self that you are
a Man of Honesty. The old Argument, that You do not
love me if you deny me this, which first was used to
obtain a Trifle, by habitual Success will oblige the unhappy
Man who gives Way to it, to resign the Cause even of
his Country and his Honour.
Thursday
136 THE SPECTATOR
lo. 511.
"hursday,
>ct2ober16,

No. 511.
[ADDISONJ Thursday, October 16.
Quis non invenit turba quod amaret in illa l-Ov.
‘Dear SPEC,
INDING that my last Letter took, I do intend to con.
tinue my Epistolary Correspondence with thee, on
those dear confounded Creatures Women. Thou knowest,
all the little Learning I am Master of is upon that Subject:
I never looked in a Book, but for their Sakes. I have
lately met with two pure Stories for a Spectator, which
I am sure will please mightil , if they pass through thy
Hands. The first of them Pr found by Chance in an
English Book called Herodotus, that lay in my Friend
Dapperwit's Window, as I visited him one Morning.
It luckily opened in the Place where I met with the
following Account. He tells us that it was the Manner
among the Persians to have several Fairs in the
Kingdom, at which all the young unmarried Women
were annually exposed to Sale. The Men who wanted
Wives came hither to provide themselves: Every Woman
was given to the highest Bidder, and the Money which
she fetched laid aside for the publick Use, to be employed
as thou shalt hear by and by. By this Means the richest
People had the Choice of the Market, and culled out all
the most extraordinary Beauties. As soon as the Fair
was thus picked, the Refuse was to be distributed among
the Poor, and among those who could not go to the Price
of a Beauty. Several of these married the Agreeables,
without paying a Farthing for them, unless Somebody
chanced to think it worth his while to bid for them, in
which Case the best Bidder was always the Purchaser.
But now you must know, SPEC, it happened in Persia,
as it does in our own Country, that there were as many
ugly Women as Beauties or Agreeables, so that by
Consequence, after the Magistrates had put off a great
many, there were still a great many that stuck upon
their Hands. In order therefore to clear the Market,
the Money which the Beauties had sold for was disposed
of among the Ugly; so that a poor Man, who could
not
THE SPECTATOR 137
not afford to have a Beauty for his Wife, was forced to No. 511.
take up with a Fortune; the greatest Portion being always Thmdi
given to the most Deformed. To this the Author adds, 33"“
that every poor Man was forced to live kindly with his '
Wife, or, in Case he repented of his Bargain, to return
her Portion with her to the next publick Sale.
WhatI would recommend to thee on this Occasion is,
to establish such an imaginary Fair in Great Britain;
Thou couldst make it very pleasant by matching Women
of Quality with Coblers and Carmen, or describing Titles
and Garters leading off in great Ceremony Shopkeepers'
and Farmers' Daughters. Tho' to tell thee the Truth, I am
confoundedly afraid that, as the Love of Money prevails in
our Island more than it did in Persia, we should find that
some of our greatest Men would chuse out the Portions,
and rival one another for the richest Piece of Deformity;
and that on the contrary, the Toasts and Belles would
be bought up by extravagant Heirs, Gamesters, and
Spendthrifts. Thou couldst make very pretty Reflections
upon this Occasion in Honour of the Persian Politicks,
who took Care, by such Marriages, to beautifie the upper
Part of the Species, and to make the greatest Persons in
the Government the most graceful. But this I shall leave
to thy judicious Pen.
I have another Story to tell thee, which I likewise met
with in a Book. It seems the General of the Tartars,
after having laid Siege to a strong Town in China, and
taken it by Storm, would set to Sale all the Women that
were found in it. Accordingly he put each of them into
a Sack, and after having thoroughly considered the Value
of the Woman who was inclosed, marked the Price that
was demanded for her upon the Sack. There were a great
Confluence of Chapmen, that resorted from every Part,
with a Design to purchase, which they were to do unsight
unseen. The Book mentions a Merchant in particular,
who observing one of the Sacks to be marked pretty high,
bargained for it, and carried it off with him to his House.
As he was resting with it upon an half/way Bridge, he
was resolved to take a Survey of his Purchase; Upon
opening the Sack, a little old Woman popped her Head

out of it, at which the Adventurer was in so great a Rage,
that
138 THE SPECTATOR

I
ursélaY:
toberl6,
2.
that he was going to shoot her out into the River. The
old Lady however begged him first of all to hear her
Story, by which he learned that she was Sister to a great
Mandarin, who would infallibly make the Fortune of his
Brother/in/Law as soon as he should know to whose Lot
she fell. Upon which the Merchant again tied her up in
his Sack, and carried her to his House, where she proved
an excellent Wife, and procured him all the Riches from
her Brother that she had promised him. '
I fancy, if I was disposed to dream a second Time, I
could make a tolerable Vision upon this Plan. I would
suppose all the unmarried Women in London and
Westminster brought to Market in Sacks, with their
respective Prices on each Sack. The first Sack that is
sold is marked with five thousand Pound: Upon the
opening of it, I find it filled with an admirable House/
wife, of an agreeable Countenance: The Purchaser, upon
hearing her good Qualities, pays down her Price very chear/
fully. The second I would open should be a five hundred
Pound Sack: The Lady in it, to our Surprise, has the Face
and Person of a Toast: As we are wondering how she
came to be set at so low Price, we hear that she would
have been valued at ten thousand Pound, but that the
Publick had made those Abatements for her being a Scold.
I would afterwards find some beautiful, modest and discreet
Woman, that should be the Top of the Market; and
perhaps discover half a dozen Romps tyed up together in
the same Sack, at one hundred Pound an Head. The
Prude and the Coquet should be valued at the same
Price, tho’ the first should go off the better of the two. I
fancy thou wouldst like such a Vision, had I Time to
finish it; because, to talk in thy own Way, there is a
Moral in it. Whatever thou may’st think of it, prithee do
not make any of thy queer Apologies for this Letter, as
thou didst for my last. The Women love a gay lively
Fellow, and are never angr at the Railleries of one who
is their known Admirer. {am always bitter upon them,
but well with them.
0
Thine,
HONEYCOMB.
Friday
THE SPECTATOR 139
No. 512. {1:107 512'
[ADDISONJ Friday, October 17 Q2511};
1712.
Lectorem delectando pariterque monendor—Hor.
HERE is Nothing which we receive with so much
Reluctance as Advice. We look upon the Man
who gives it us as offering an Affront to our Under.
standing, and treating us like Children or Ideots. We
consider the Instruction as an implicit Censure, and the
Zeal which any one shews for our Good on such an
Occasion as a Piece of Presumption or Impertinence.
The Truth of it is, the Person who pretends to advise,
does, in that Particular, exercise a Superiority over us, and
can have no other Reason for it, but that, in comparing
us with himself, he thinks us defective either in our
Conduct or our Understanding. For these Reasons, there
is Nothing so difficult as the Art of making Advice
agreeable; and indeed all the Writers, both Ancient
and Modern, have distinguished themselves among one
another, according to the Perfection at which they have
arrived in this Art. How many Devices have been
made use of, to render this bitter Potion palatable? Some
convey their Instructions to us in the best chosen Words,
others in the most harmonious Numbers, some in Points
of Wit, and others in short Proverbs.
But among all the different Ways of giving Counsel, I
think the finest, and that which pleases the most univers.
ally, is Fable, in whatsoever Shape it appears. If we
consider this Way of instructing or giving Advice, it
excels all others, because it is the least shocking, and the
least subject to those Exceptions which I have before
mentioned. _
This will appear to us, if we reflect, in the first Place,
that upon the Reading of a Fable we are made to believe
we advise our selves. We peruse the Author for the
Sake of the Story, and consider the Precepts rather as our
own Conclusions, than his Instructions. The Moral
insinuates it self imperceptibly, we are taught by Surprise,
and become wiser and better unawares. In short, by this
Method a Man is so far over/reached as to think he is
directing himself, while he is following the Dictates of
another
140 THE SPECTATOR
q. 512. another, and consequentl is not sensible of that which
fdaY' is the most unpleasin ircumstance in Advice.
fiber ' In the next Place, ' we look into Human Nature, we
' shall find that the Mind is never so much pleased, as
when she exerts her self in any Action that gives her an
Idea of her own Perfections and Abilities, This natural
Pride and Ambition of the Soul is very much gratified in
the reading of a Fable; for in Writings of this Kind, the
Reader comes in for half of the Performance; Every
Thing appears to him like a Discovery of his own; he is
busied all the While in applying Characters and Circum/
stances, and is in this Respect both a Reader and a Com/
poser, It is no Wonder therefore that on such Occasions,
when the Mind is thus pleased with it self, and amused
with its own Discoveries, that it is highly delighted with
the Writing which is the Occasion of it. For this Reason
the Absalom and Acbitophel was one of the most
ular Poems that ever appeared in English, The
oetry is indeed very fine, but had it been much finer
it would not have so much pleased, without a Plan which
gage the Reader an Opportunity of exerting his own
a ents,
This oblique Manner of giv' Advice is so inoffensive,
that if we look into ancient Histories, we find the wise
Men of old very often chose to give Counsel to their
Kings in Fables. To omit many which will occur to
every one's Memory, there is a pretty Instance of this
Nature in a Turkish Tale, which I do not like the
wotil‘lse for that little oriental Extravagance which is mixed
wi it,
We are told that the Sultan Mahmouo, by his perpetual
Wars abroad, and his Tyranny at home, had filled his
Dominions with Ruin and Desolation, and half/unpeopled
the Persian Empire, The Visier to this great Sultan,
(whether an Humorist or an Enthusiast we are not
informed) pretended to have learned of a certain Dervise
to understand the Language of Birds, so that there was
not a Bird that could open his Mouth but the Visier knew
what it was he said, As he was one Evening with the
Emperor, in their return from Hunting, the saw a couple
of Owls upon a Tree that grew near an old all out Iolf an
eap

THE SPECTATOR 141
Heap of Rubbish. I would fain know, says the Sultan, No. 512.
what those two Owls are saying to one another; listen Friday;
to their Discourse, and ive me an Account of it. The gigdml
Visier approached the rec, pretending to be very attem '
tive to the two Owls. Upon his Return to the Sultan, Sir,
says he, I have heard Part of their Conversation, but
dare not tell you what it is. The Sultan would not be
satisfied with such an Answer, but forced him to repeat
Word for Word every Thing the Owls had said. You
must know then, said the Visier, that one of these Owls
has a Son, and the other a Daughter, between whom
they are now upon a Treaty of Marriage. The Father
of the Son said to the Father of the Daughter, in my
Hearing, Brother, I consent to this Marriage, provided
you will settle upon your Daughter fifty ruined Villages
for her Portion. To which the Father of the Daughter
replied, Instead of fifty I will give her five hundred, if
you please. God grant a long Life to Sultan Mahmoud!
whilst he reigns over us we shall never want ruined
Villages.
The Story says, the Sultan was so touched with the
Fable, that he rebuilt the Towns and Villages which had
been destroyed, and from that Time forward consulted
the Good of his People.
To fill up my Paper, I shall add a most ridiculous Piece
of natural Magick, which was taught by no less a Philo/
sopher than Democritus, namely, that if the Blood of
certain Birds, which he mentioned, were mixed to ether,
it would produce a Serpent of such a wonderful irtue
that whoever did eat it should be skill’d in the Language
of Birds, and understand every Thing they said to one
another. Whether the Dervise abovementioned might
not have eaten such a Serpent, I shall leave to the Deter/
minations of the Learned.

Saturday
142 THE SPECTATOR
b. 513. No. 513.
turda , , .
itoberll'a, [ADDISON] Saturday, October 18


———-Afflata est numine quando
jam propiore Deo .—Virg.

HE followi Letter comes to me from that Excellent
Man in oly Orders, whom I have mentioned
more than once as one of that Society who assist me in
my Speculations. It is a Thought in Sickness, and of a
very serious Nature, for which Reason I give it a Place
in the Paper of this Day.
’ Sir,
The Indisposition which has long hung upon me, is at
last grown to such an Head, that it must quickly make an
End of me, or of it self. You may imagine, that whilst I
am in this bad State of Health there are none of your
Works which I read with greater Pleasure than your
Saturday's Papers. I should be very glad if I could furnish
you with any Hints for that Day's Entertainment. Were
I able to dress up several Thoughts of a serious Nature,
which have made great Impressions on my Mind during
a long Fit of Sickness, they might not be an improper
Entertainment for that Occasion.
Among all the Reflections which usuall rise in the
Mind of a sick Man, who has Time and nclination to
consider his approaching End, there is none more natural
than that of his going to appear Naked and Unbodied
before him who made him. When a Man considers, that,
as soon as the vital Union is dissolved, he shall see that
Supreme Being, whom he now contemplates at a Distance,
and only in his Works; or, to speak more philosophically,
when by some Faculty in the Soul he shall apprehend
the Divine Being, and be more sensible of his Presence,
than we are now of the Presence of any Object which the
Eye beholds, a Man must be lost in Carelessness and
Stupidity, who is not alarmed at such a Thought. Dr.
Sherlock, in his excellent Treatise upon Death, has
represented, in very strong and lively Colours, the State
of the Soul in its first Separation from the Body, with
regard to that Invisible World which every where
surrounds
THE SPECTATOR 143
surrounds us, tho' we are not able to discover it through No. 513.
this grosser World of Matter which is accommodated to Satuida'tl'
our Senses in this Life. His Words are as follow. er
That Death, which is our Leaving this World, is
Nothing else but our putting off these Bodies, teaches
us, that it is only our Union to these Bodies, which
intercepts the Sight of the other World : The other
World is not at such a Distance from us, as we may
imagine; the Throne of God indeed is at a great
Remove from this Earth, above the third Heavens,
where he displays his Glory to those blessed Spirits
which encompass his Throne I but as soon as we step
out of these Bodies, we step into the other World, which
is not so properly another World (for there is the
same Heaven and Earth still) as a new State of Life.
To live in these Bodies is to live in this World; to live
out of them, is to remove into the next: For while our
Souls are confin'd to these Bodies, and can look only
thro' these material Casements, Nothing but what is
material can affect us, nay, Nothing but what is so gross,
that it can reflect Light, and convey the Shapes and
Colours of Things with it to the Eye: So that though
within this visible World, there be a more glorious
Scene of Things than what appears to us, we perceive
Nothing at all of it: for this Vail of Flesh parts the
visible and invisible World: But when we put off these
Bodies, there are new and surprizing Wonders pre/
sent themselves to our Views; when these material
Spectacles are taken off, the Soul with its own naked
Eyes sees what was in visible before : And then we
are in the other World, when we can see it, and
con verse with it : Th us St. Paul tells us, That when
we are at home in the Body, we are absent from the
Lord; but when we are absent from the Body, we
are present with the Lord, 2 Cor. 5. 6, 8. And me.
thinks this is enough to cure us of our Fondness for
these Bodies. unless we think it more desirable to
be confined to a Prison, and to look through a Grate
all our Lives, which gives us but a very narrow
Prospect, and that none of the best neither, than to
be
144 THE SPECTATOR
O!
be set at Liberty to view all the Glories of the World:
turdaY. What would we give now for the least Glimpse of
I
iffberw' that invisible World, which the first Step we take
out of these Bodies will present us with .7 There
are such Things as Eye hath not seen, nor Ear heard,
neither hath it entred into the Heart of Man to conceive:
Death opens our Eyes, enlarges our Prospect, presents
us with a new and more glorious World, which we
can never see, while we are shut up in Flesh; which
should make us as willing to part with this Veil, as to
take the Film off of our Eyes, which hinders our Sight.
As a thinking Man cannot but be very much affected
with the Idea of his appearing in the Presence of that
Being whom none can see and live, he must be much
more affected when he considers that this Being whom he
appears before, will examine all the Actions of his past
Life, and reward or punish him accordingly. I must con;
fess that I think there is no Scheme of Religion, besides
that of Christianity, which can possibly support the most
virtuous Person under this Thought. Let a Man's Inno/
cence be what it will, let his Virtues rise to the highest
Pitch of Perfection attainable in this Life, there will be
still in him so many secret Sins, so many human Frailties,
so many Offences of Ignorance, Passion, and Prejudice, so
many unguarded Words and Thoughts, and in short, so
many Defects in his best Actions, that, without the
Advantages of such an Expiation and Atonement as
Christianity has reveal'd to us, it is impossible that he
should be cleared before his Soveraign Judge, or that he
should be able to stand in his Sigh t. Our Holy Religion
suggests to us the only Means whereby our Guilt may be
taken away, and our imperfect Obedience accepted.
It is this Series of Thought that I have endeavoured to
express in the following Hymn, which I have composed
during this my Sickness.
When
THE SPECTATOR 145
I! SNO: t
When rising from the Bed of Death, 0131;“
O’erwhelm'd with Guilt and Fear, 1712.
I see my Maker, Face to Face,
0 how shall I appear!
II.
If yet, while Pardon may be found,
And Mercy may be sought,
My Heart with inward Horrour shrinks,
And trembles at the Thought;
III.
When thou, O Lord, shalt stand disclos'd
In Majesty severe,
And sit in judgment on my Soul,
0 how shall I appear!

IV.
But thou hast told the troubled Mind,
Who does her Sins lament,
The timer Tribute of her Tears
Shall endless Woe prevent.
V.
Then see the Sorrow of my Heart
Ere yet it be too late;
And hear my Saviour’s dying Groans.
To give those Sorrows Weight.
VI.
For never shall my Soul despair
Her Pardon to procure,
Who knows thine only Son has dy'd
To make her Pardon sure.
There is a noble Hymn in French, which Monsieur
Bayle has celebrated for a very fine one, and which the
W. K famous
146 THE SPECTATOR
Or aturday,
ctober
, 1712.

famous Author of the Art of Speaking calls an Admirable
one, that turns upon a Thought of the same Nature. If
I could have done it Justice in English, I would have
sent it you translated; it was written by Monsieur Des
Barreaux, who had been one of the greatest Wits and
Libertines in France, but in his last Years was as remark.
able a Penitent.
Grand Dieu, tes jugemens sont remplis d'equité ;
Toujours tu prens plaisir a nous étre propice :
Mais j'ai tant fait de ma], que jamais ta bonté
_Ne me pardonnera sans choquer ta justice.
Ouy, mon Dieu, la grandeur de mon impiete'
Ne laisse a ton pouvoir que le choix du supplice:
Ton intérest s’oppose 5 ma félicité ;
Et ta cle'mence méme attend que je périsse.
Contente ton de’sir puis qu 'il t’est glorieux;
Offense toy des pleurs qui coulent de mes yeux;
Tonne, frappe. il est temps, rens moi guerre pour guerre.
['adore en périssant la raison qui t'aigrit :
Mais dessus quel endroit tombera ton tonnerre,
Qui ne soit tout couvert du sang de JESUS CHRIST.
If these Thoughts may be serviceable to you, I desire
you will place them in a proper Light, and am ever,
with great Sincerity,
Sir,
O Your 8c.
No. 514.
[STEELE] Monday, October 20.
——Me Parnassi deserta per ardua dulcis
Raptat amor/ juvat ire jugis qua nulla priorum
Castaliam molli divertitur orbita clivo.——Virg.
‘ Mr. SPECTATOR,
CAME home a little later than usual the other Night,
and not finding my self inclined to Sleep, I took up
Virgil to divert me 'till I shou’d be more dispos’d to Rest.
He is the Author whom I always chuse on such Occa.
sions, no one writing in so divine, so harmonious, nor so
equal a Strain, which leaves the Mind compos'd, and
soften’d into an agreeable Melancholy; the Tempei‘ it}:
w 1c
THE SPECTATOR 147
which, of all others, I chuse to close the Day. The No, 514.
Passages I turn’d to were those beautiful Raptures in his Monday.
Georgicks, where he professes himself entirely given ;
up to the Muses, and smit with the Love of Poetry, ' passionately wishing to be transported to the cool Shades
and Retirements of the Mountain Haem us. I clos'd the
Book and went to Bed. What I had just before been
reading made so strong an Impression on my Mind,
that Fancy seem'd almost to fulfil to me the Wish of
Virgil, in presenting to me the following Vision. I
Methought I was on a sudden plac'd in the Plains of
Boeotia, where at the End of the Horizon I saw the
Mountain Parnassus rising before me. The Prospect
was of so large an Extent, that I had long wander’d
about to find a Path which shou'd directly lead me to it,
had I not seen at some Distance a Grove of Trees, which
in a Plain that had nothing else remarkable enough in it
to fix my Sight, immediately determin’d me to go thither.
When I arriv'd at it, I found it parted out into a great
Number of Walks and Allies, which often widen'd into
beautiful Openings, as Circles or Ovals, set round with
Yews and Cypresses, with Niches, Grottos, and Caves,
plac'd on the Sides, encompass'd with Ivy. There was
no Sound to be heard in the whole Place, but only that
of a gentle Breeze passing over the Leaves of the Forest;
every Thing besides was buried in a profound Silence. I
was captivated with the Beauty and Retirement of the
Place, and never so much before that Hour was pleas'd
with the Enjoyment of my self. I indulg'd the Humour,
and suffer’d my self to wander without Choice or Design.
At length, at the End of a Range of Trees, I saw three
Figures seated on a Bank of Moss, with a silent Brook
creeping at their Feet. I ador'd them as the tutelar
Divinities of the Place, and stood still to take a particular
View of each of them. The Middlemost, whose Name
was Solitude, sate with her Arms across each other, and
seem'd rather pensive and wholly taken up with her own
Thoughts, than any ways griev'd or displeas'd. The
only Companions which she admitted into that Retire;
ment, was the Goddess Silence, who sate on her right
Hand with her Finger on her Mouth, and on her left
Contemplation
148 THE SPECTATOR
Contemplation, with her Eyes fix’d upon the Heavens.
Before her lay a celestial Globe, with several Schemes of
mathematical Theorems. She prevented my Speech with
the greatest Affability in the World: Fear not, said she,
I know your Request before you speak it; ou would be
led to the Mountain of the Muses: The onlyW/ay to it lies
thro’ this Place, and no one is so often employ'd in con/
ducting Persons thither as my self. When she had thus
spoken she rose from her Seat, and I immediately plac’d
my self under her Direction; but whilst I pass'd thro' the
Grove, I cou'd not help enquiring of her who were the
Persons admitted into that sweet Retirement. Surely, said
I, there can Nothing enter here but Virtue and virtuous
Thoughts: The whole Wood seems design'd for the
Reception and Reward of such Persons as have spent
their Lives according to the Dictates of their Conscience
and the Commands of the Gods. You imagine right, said
she; assure your self this Place was at first design’d for
no other: Such it continu'd to be in the Re' 11 of Saturn,
when none enter'd here but holy Priests, eliverers of
their Country from Oppression and Tyranny, who re/
pos'd themselves here after their Labours; and those
whom the Study and Love of Wisdom had fitted for divine
Conversation. But now it is become no less dangerous
than it was before desirable: Vice ’ has learn'd so to
mimick Virtue, that it often creeps in hither under its
Disguise. See there! iust before you, Revenge stalking
by, habited in the Robe of Honour. Observe not far from
him Ambition standing alone; if you ask him his Name,
he will tell you it is Emulation or Glory. But the most
frequent Intruder we have is Lust, who succeeds now the
Deity to whom in better Days this Grove was entirely
devoted. Virtuous Love, with Hymen, and the Graces
attending him, once reign’d over this happy Place; a whole
Train of Virtues waited on him, and no dishonourable
Thought durst presume for Admittance; but now! how
is the whole Prospect chang'd? and how seldom renew'd
by some few who dare despise sordid Wealth, and
imagine themselves fit Companions for so charming
o. 514.
onday,
ctober
O, 1712.
a Divinity?
The Goddess had no sooner said thus, but we were
arriv’d
THE SPECTATOR 149
arriv'd at the utmost Boundaries of the Wood, which lay No, 514,
contiguous to a Plain that ended at the Foot of the Moun/ Monday.
tain. Here I kept close, to my Guide, being sollicited by several Phantoms, who assur’d me they wou'd shew me ' "
a nearer Way to the Mountain of the Muses. Among
the rest Vanity was extremely importunate, having de/
luded infinite Numbers, whom I saw wandring at the
Foot of the Hill. I turn'd away from this despicable
Troop with Disdain, and addressing m self to my Guide,
told her, That as I had some Hopes shou'd be able to
reach up Part of the Ascent, so I despair'd of having
Strength enough to attain the Plain on the Top. But
being inform'd by her that it was impossible to stand
u n the Sides, and that if I did not proceed onwards I
s ould irrecoverably fall down to the lowest Verge, I
resolv'd to hazard any Labour and Hardship in the At/
tempt; So great a Desire had I of enjoying the Satisfaction
I hop'd to meet with at the End of my Enterprize!
There were two Paths, which led up by different Ways
to the Summit of the Mountain; the one was guarded by
the Genius which presides over the Moment of our Births.
He had it in Charge to examine the several Pretensions of
those who desir'd a Pass that Way, but to admit none
excepting those only on whom Melpomene had look'd
with a ropitious Eye at the Hour of their Nativity. The
other ay was guarded by Diligence, to whom many of
those Persons apply'd who had met with a Denial the
other Way; but he was so tedious in granting their
Request, and indeed after Admittance the Way was so
very intricate and laborious, that many after they had
made some Progress chose rather to return back than
proceed, and very few persisted so long as to arrive
at the End they propos'd. Besides these two Paths,
which at length severally led to the Top of the Moun/
tain, there was a third made up of these two, which a
little after the Entrance joyn'd in one. This carried
those happy Few, whose good Fortune it was to find it,
directly to the Throne of Apollo. I don't know whether
I should even now have had the Resolution to have
demanded Entrance at either of these Doors, had I not
seen a Peasant/like Man (followed by a numerous and
lovely
150 THE SPECTATOR
On onday,
ctober
J, 1712.

lovely Train of Youth of both Sexes) insist upon Entrance
for all whom he led up. He put me in Mind of the
Country Clown who is painted in the Map for leading
Prince Eugene over the Alps: He had a Bundle of Papers
in his Hand, and producing several, which, he said,
were given to him by Hands which he knew Apollo
would allow as Passes, among which, methoughts,I saw
some of my own Writing, the whole Assembly was
admitted, and gave, by their Presence, a new Beauty and
Pleasure to these happy Mansions. I found the Man did
not pretend to enter himself, but served as a Kind of
Forester in the Lawns to direct Passengers, who by their
own Merit, or Instructions he procured for them, had
Virtue enough to travel that Way. I looked very atten/
tively upon this kind homely Benefactor, and forgive me,
Mr. SPECTATOR, if I own to you I took him for your self.
We were no sooner entered but we were sprinkled three
Times with the Water of the Fountain Aganippe, which
had Power to deliver us from all Harms, but onl Envy,
which reach'd even to the End of our Journey. e had
not proceeded far in the middle Path when we arrived
at the Summit of the Hill, where there immediately
appeared to us two Figures, which extreamly engaged
my Attention; the one was a young Nymph in the
Prime of her Youth and Beauty; she had Wings on her
Shoulders and Feet, and was able to transport herself to
the most distant Regions in the smallest Space of Time.
She was continually varying her Dress, sometimes into
the most natural and becoming Habits in the World, and
at others into the most wild and freakish Garb that can be
imagined. There stood by her a Man full/aged, and
of great Gravity, who corrected her Inconsistencies, by
showing them in this Mirror, and still flung her affected
and unbecoming Ornaments down the Mountain, which
fell in the Plain below, and were gathered up and wore
with great Satisfaction by those that inhabited it. The
Name of the Nymph was Fancy, the Daughter of Liberty,
the most beautiful of all the Mountain Nymphs. The
other was judgment, the Offspring of Time, and the only
Child he acknowledged to be his. A Youth who sate
upon a Throne just between them, was their genuine
Offspring
THE SPECTATOR 151
Offspring; his Name was Wit, and his Seat was compos'd No. 514.
of the Works of the most celebrated Authors. I could not Mmday
but see with a secret joy, that though the Greeks and Romans made the Majority, yet our own Countrymen ’ '
were the next both in Number and Dignity. I was now
at Liberty to take a full Prospect of that delightful Region.
I was inspir'd with new Vigour and Life, and saw every
Thing in nobler and more pleasing View than before; I
breath’d a purer lEther in a Sky which was a continu'd
Azure, gilded with perpetual Sun/shine. The two Sum/
mits of the Mountain rose on each Side, and formed
in the Midst a most delicious Vale, the Habitation of the
Muses, and of such as had composed Works worthy of
Immortality. Apollo was seated upon a Throne of Gold,
and for a Canopy an aged Lawrel spread its Boughs and
its Shade over his Head. His Bow and Quiver lay at his
Feet. He held his Harp in his Hand, whilst the Muses
round about him celebrated with Hymns his Victory
over the Serpent Python, and sometimes sung in softer
Notes the Loves of Leucothoe and Daphnis. Homer,
Virgil, and Milton were seated the next to them. Behind
were a great Number of others, among whom I was
surprized to see some in the Habit of Laplanders, who,
notwithstanding the Uncouthness of their Dress, had
lately obtained a Place upon the Mountain. I saw Pindar
walking all alone, no one daring to accost him till Cowley
joyn'd himself to him; but, growing weary of one who
almost walk’d him out of Breath, he left him for Horace
and Anacreon, with whom he seem'd infinitely delighted.
A little further I saw another Groupe of Figures; I
made up to them, and found it was Socrates dictating to
Xenophon and the Spirit of Plato; but most of all
M usaeus had the greatest Audience about him. I was
at too great a Distance to hear what he said, or to discover
the Faces of his Hearers, onlyI Thought I now perceived
Virgil, who had joined them, and stood in a Posture
full of Admiration at the Harmony of his Words.
Lastly, At the very Brink of the Hill I saw Boccalini
sending Dispatches to the World below of what happen'd
upon Parnassus; but I perceived he did it without Leave
of the Muses, and by Stealth, and was unwilling to

have
152
THE SPECTATOR


O: onday,
ctober
O, 1712.
have them revised by Apollo. I could now from this
Height and serene S behold the infinite Cares and
Anxieties with which ortals below sought out their
Way through the Maze of Life. I saw the Path of Virtue
lie straight before them, whilst Interest, or some malicious
Demon, still hurry’d them out of the Way. I was at once
touch’d with Pleasure at my own Happiness, and Com,
passion at the Sight of their inextricable Errors. Here
the two contending Passions rose so high, that they were
inconsistent with the sweet Repose I enioy'd, and awak/
ing with a sudden Start, the only Consolation I could
admit of for my Loss, was the Hopes that this Relation
of my Dream will not displease you.’ T
No. 515.
[STEELE] Tuesday, October 21.
Pudet me 8 miseret qux' harvm mores cantabat mz'bz'
Monuisse frus tra——-—-.-—Ter.
‘Mr. SPECTATOR,
AM obliged to you for printing the Account I lately
sent you of a Coquet who disturbed a sober Congre/
gation in the City of London. That Intelligence ended
at her taking Coach, and bidding the Driver go where
he knew. I could not leave her so, but dogged her,
as hard as she drove, to Pa ul’s Church a yard, where
there was a Stop of Coaches attending Company coming
out of the Cathedral. This gave me Opportunity to
hold up a Crown to her Coachman, who gave me the
Signal, and that he would hurry on, and make no Haste,
as you know the Way is when they favour a Chace. By
his many kind Blunders, driving against other Coaches,
and slipping off some of his Tackle, I could keep up with
him, and lodged my fine Lady in the Parish of St. james's.
As I guessed when I first saw her at Church, her Business
is to win Hearts and throw ’em away, regarding Nothing
but the Triumph. I have had the Happiness, by tracing
her through all with whom I heard she was acquainted,
to find one who was intimate with a Friend of mine, and
to be introduced to her Notice. I have made so ood Use
of my Time, as to procure from that Intimate of ers one


of
THE SPECTATOR 153
of her Letters, which she writ to her when in the Country. No. 515
This Epistle of her own may serve to alarm the World Tue-$58
against her in ordinary Life, as mine, I hope, did those magi?
who shall behold her at Church. The Letter was written ' '
last Winter to the Lady who gave it me; and I doubt not
but you will find it the Soul of an happy self/loving Dame,
that takes all the Admiration she can meet with, and
returns none of it in Love to her Admirers.
“ Dear jenny,
I am glad to find you are likely to be disposed of in
Marriage so much to your Approbation as you tell me.
You say you are afraid only of me, for I shall laugh
at your Spouse's Airs. I beg of you not to fear it, for I
am too nice a Discerner to laugh at any, but whom most
other People think fine Fellows; so that your Dear may
bring you hither as soon as his Horses are in Case
enou h to appear in Town, and you be very safe a ainst
any aillery you may apprehend from me; for am
surrounded with Coxcombs of my own making, who are
all ridiculous in a manner: Your Good.man, I presume,
can't exert himself. As Men who cannot raise their
Fortunes, and are uneasy under the Incapacity of shining
in Courts, rail at Ambition, so do aukward and insipid
Women, who cannot warm the Hearts and charm the
Eyes of Men, rail at Affection: But she that has the Joy
of seeing a Man’s Heart leap into his Eyes at beholding
her, is in no Pain for Want of Esteem among a Crew
of that Part of her own Sex who have no Spirit but that
of Envy, and no Language but that of Malice. I do not
in this, I hope, express my self insensible of the Merit of
Leodacia, who lowers her Beauty to all but her Husband,
and never spreads her Charms but to gladden him who
has a Right in them. I say, I do Honour to those who
can be Coquets, and are not such; but I despise all
who would be so, and in Despair of arriving at it them.
selves, hate and vilify all those who can. But, be that
as it will, in Answer to your Desire of knowing my
History: One of my chief present Pleasures is in
Country.Dances; and, in Obedience to me, as well as
the Pleasure of coming up to me with a good Grace,
shewing
154 Y THE SPECTATOR
. 515.
esday,
tober
1712.
shewing themselves in their Address to others in my
Presence, and the like Opportunities, they are all Pro»
ficients that Way: And I had the Happiness of being
the other Night where we made six Couple, and every
Woman's Partner a profess’d Lover of mine. The wildest
Imagination cannot form to it self, on any Occasion,
higher Delight than I acknowledge my self to have been
in all that Evening. I chose out of my Admirers a Set
of Men who most love me, and gave them Partners of
such of my own Sex who most envy'd me.
My Way is, when any Man who is my Admirer
pretends to give himself Airs of Merit, as at this Time
a certain Gentleman you know did, to mortify him by
favouring in his Presence the most insignificant Creature
I can find. At this Ball I was led into the Company by
pretty Mr. Fanfly, who, you know, is the most obsequious
well/shap'd wellrbred Woman’s Man in Town. I at first
Entrance declared him my Partner if I danced at all; which
put the whole Assembly into a Grin, as forming no
Terrours from such a Rival. But we had not been long
in the Room, before I over/heard the meritorious Gentle/
man above/mentioned, say with an Oath, There is no
Raillery in the Thing, she certainly loves the Puppy.
My Gentleman, when we were dancing, took an Occasion
to be very soft in his Oglings upon a Lady he danced
with, and whom he knew of all Women I love most to
outshine. The Contest began who should plague the
other most. I, who do not care a Farthing for him, had
no hard Task to out/vex him. I made Fanfly, with a very
little Encouragement, cut Capers Coupee, and then sink
with all the Air and Tenderness imaginable. When he
performed this, I observed the Gentleman you know of
fall into the same Way, and imitate as well as he could
the despised Family. I cannot well give you, who are so
grave a Country Lady, the Idea of the by we have when we
see a stubborn Heart breaking, or a Man of Sense turning
Fool for our Sakes, but this happened to our Friend, and I
expect his Attendance whenever I go to Church, to Court,
to the Play, or the Park. This is a Sacrifice due to us
Women of Genius, who have the Eloquence of Beauty,
an easy Mein. I mean by an easy Mein, one which can
be
THE SPECTATOR 155
be on Occasion easily affected: For I must tell you, dear No. 515.
[enny, I hold one Maxim, which is an uncommon one,
to wit, That our greatest Charms are owing to Affectation. 2
'Tis to That that our Arms can lodge so quietly just over
our Hips, and the Fan can play without any Force or
Motion but just of the Wrist. ’Tis to Affectation we owe
the pensive Attention of Deidamia at a Tragedy, the
scornful Approbation of Dulcimara at a Comedy, and the
lowly Aspect of Lanquicelsa at a Sermon.
To tell you the plain Truth, I know no Pleasure but in
being admired, and have yet never failed of attaining the
Approbation of the Man whose Regard I had a Mind to.
You see all the Men who make a Figure in the World
(as wise a Look as they are pleased to put upon the
Matter) are moved by the same Vanity as I am. What is
there in Ambition, but to make other People's Wills depend
upon yours? This indeed is not to be aim'd at by one
who has a Genius no higher than to think of being a very
good Housewife in a Country Gentleman’s Family. The
Care of Poultre and Piggs are great Enemies to the
Countenance: he vacant Look of a fine Lady is not to
be preserved, if she admits any Thing to take up her
Thoughts but her own dear Person. But I interrupt you
too long from your Cares. and my self from my Conquests.
I am,
Madam,
Your most humble Servant."
Give me Leave, Mr. SPECTATOR, to add her Friend's answer
to this Epistle, who is a very discreet ingenious Woman.
“ Dear Gatty,
I take your Raillery in very good Part, and am obliged
to you for the free Air with which you speak of your own
Gayeties. But this is but a barren superficial Pleasure;
indeed, Gatty, we are made for Man, and in serious Sadness
I must tell you, whether you your self know it or no, all
these Gallantries tend to no other End but to be a Wife
and Mother as fast as you can.
I am,
Madam,
Your most humble Servant."'
Wednesday
T
Tuesday.
ctober
1, 1712.
156 THE SPECTATOR
O0 ’ednesw
lY
ctbber
Z, 1712.
No. 516.
[STEELE] Wednesday, October 22.
Immortale odium 6 nunquam sanabile vulnus.
I I I I I I I U I I
Inde furor vulgo, quod numina vicinorum
Odit uterque locus, quum solos credat habendos
Esse deos, quos ipse colit— .-—Juv.
OF all the monstrous Passions and Opinions which
have crept into the World, there is none so wonder,
ful as that those who profess the common Name of
Christians should pursue each other with Rancour and
Hatred for Differences in their Way of following the
Example of their Saviour. It seems so natural, that all
who pursue the Steps of any Leader should form them
selves after his Manners, that it is impossible to account
for Effects so different from what we might expect from
those who profess themselves Followers of the highest
Pattern of Meekness and Charity, but by ascribing such
Effects to the Ambition and Corruption of those who are
so audacious, with Souls full of Fury, to serve at the Altars
of the God of Peace.
The Massacres to which the Church of Home has
animated the ordinary People are dreadful Instances of
the Truth of this Observation; and whoever reads the
Histor of the Irish Rebellion, and the Cruelties which
ensue thereupon, will be sufficiently convinced to what
Rage poor Ignorants may be work'd up by those who
profess Holiness, and become Incendiaries, and, under
the Dispensation of Grace, promote Evils abhorrent to
Nature.
This Subject and Catastrophe, which deserve so well to
be remarked by the Protestant World, will, I doubt not,
be considered by the Reverend and Learned Prelate that
preaches to Morrow before many of the Descendants of
those who perished on that lamentable Day, in a Manner
suitable to the Occasion, and worthy his own great Virtue
and Eloquence.
I shall not dwell upon it any further, but only transcribe
out of a little Tract, called The Christian Heroe, pub/
lished in 1701, what I find there in Honour of the re.
nowned Heroe William III, who rescued that Nation from
the

THE SPECTATOR 157
the Repetition of the same Disasters. His late Majesty, of No. 516.
glorious Memory, and the most Christian King are Wednes'
considered at the Conclusion of that Treatise as Heads of amber
the Protestant and Roman Catholick World in the follow. 22' 1712,
in Manner. .
ere were not ever, before the Entrance of the
Christian Name into the World, Men who have main/
tain’d a more renown'd Carriage, than the two great
Rivals who possess the full Fame of the present Age, and
will be the Theme and Examination of the future. They
are exactly form’d by Nature for those Ends to which
Heaven seems to have sent them amongst us: Both
animated with a restless Desire of Glory, but pursue it
by different Means, and with different Motives: To one
it consists in an extensive undisputed Empire over his
Subjects, to the other in their rational and voluntary
Obedience: One's Happiness is founded in their Want
of Power, the other's in their Want of Desire to oppose
him: The one enjoys the Summit of Fortune with the
Luxury of a Persian, the other with the Moderation of a
Spartan: One is made to oppress, the other to relieve
the Oppressed: The one is satisfied with the Pomp and
Ostentation of Power to prefer and debase his Inferiours,
the other delighted only with the Cause and Foundation
of it to cherish and protect 'em: To one therefore Religion
is but a convenient Disguise, to the other a vigorous
Motive of Action.
For without such Ties of real and solid Honour, there
is no Way of forming a Monarch, but after the Machi/
avilian Scheme, by which a Prince must ever seem to
have all Virtues, but really to be Master of none, but is
to be liberal, merciful, and just only as they serve his
Interests; while, with the noble Art of Hypocrisy,
Empire would be to be extended, and new Conquests be
made by new Devices, by which prompt Address his
Creatures might insensibly give Law in the Business of
Life, by leading Men in the Entertainment of it.
Thus when Words and Show are apt to pass for the
substantial Things they are only to express, there would
need no more to enslave a Country but to adorn a Court;
for while every Man's Vanity makes him believe himself
capable
158 THE SPECTATOR
o. 516.
ednes/
a
cibber
2, 1712.
capable of becoming Luxury, Enjoyments are a ready
Bait for Sufferings, and the Hopes of Preferment Invita.
tions to Servitude, which Slavery would be colour'd with
all the Agreements, as they call it, imaginable. The
noblest Arts and Artists, the finest Pens and most elegant
Minds, jointly employ'd to set it off, with the various
Embellishments of sumptuous Entertainments, charming
Assemblies and polished Discourses: And those apostate
Abilities of Men, the adored Monarch might profusely
and skillfully encourage, while they flatter his Virtue,
and gild his Vice at so high a Rate, that he, without Scorn
of the one, or Love of the other, would alternately and
occasionally use both, so that his Bounty should support
him in his Rapines, his Mercy in his Cruelties.
Nor is it to give Things a more severe Look than is
natural, to suppose such must be the Consequences of a
Prince’s having no other Pursuit than that of his own
Glory; for, if we consider an Infant born into the World,
and beholding it self the mightiest Thing in it, its self the
present Admiration and future Prospect of a fawning
People, who profess themselves Great or Mean, according
to the Figure he is to make amongst them, what Fancy
would not be debauched to believe they were but what
they professed themselves, his mere Creatures, and use
them as such by Purchasing with their Lives a boundless
Renown, which he, for Want of a more just Prospect,
would place in the Number of his Slaves, and the Extent
of his Territories; such undoubtedly would be the tragical
Effects of a Prince's Living with no Religion, which are
not to be surpassed but by his having a false one.
If Ambition were spirited with Zeal, what would follow,
but that his People should be converted into an Army,
whose Swords can make Right in Power, and solve Con.
troversy in Belief? And if Men should be stiffmecked
to the Doctrine of that visible Church, let them be con/
tented with an Oar and a Chain, in the Midst of Stripes
and Anguish, to contemplate on him, whose Yoke is easy,
and whose Burthen is light.
With a Tyranny begun on his own Subjects, and Im
dignation that others draw their Breath independent of
his Frown or Smile, why should he not proceed to the
Seizure
THE SPECTATOR 159
Seizure of the World? And if Nothing but the Thirst No. 516
of Sway were the Motive of his Actions, why should wed“
Treaties be other than meer Words, or solemn national ay'
Compacts be any Thing but an Halt in the March of that 2247;
Army, who are never to lay down their Arms, 'till all
Men are reduced to the Necessity of hanging their Lives
on his way/ward Will; who might supinely, and at
Leisure, expiate his own Sins by other Men's Suffer;
ings, while he daily meditates new Slaughter, and new
Conquest?
For meer Man, when giddy with unbridled Power, is
an insatiate Idol, not to be appeased with Myriads offered
to his Pride, which may be puffed up by the Adulation of
a base and prostrate World, into an Opinion that he is
Something more than humane, by Being Something less:
And, alas, what is there that mortal Man will not believe
of himself, when complimented with the Attributes of
God? He can then conceive Thoughts of a Power as
Omnipresent as his: But should there be such a Foe
of Mankind now upon Earth, have our Sins so far pro/
voked Heaven, that we are left utterly Naked to his
Fury? Is there no Power, no Leader, no Genius, that
can conduct and animate us to our Death, or our De/
fence? Yes, our great God never gave one to reign by
his Permission, but he gave to another also to reign by
his Grace.
All the Circumstances of the Illustrious Life of our
Prince, seem to have conspired to make him the Check
and Bridle of Tyranny; for his Mind has been streng/
thened and confirmed by one continued Struggle, and
Heaven has educated him by Adversity to a quick Sense
of the Distresses and Miseries of Mankind, which he was
born to redress: In just Scorn of the trivial Glories and
light Ostentations of Power, that glorious Instrument of
Providence moves, like that, in a steady, calm, and silent
Course, independent either of Applause or Calumny
which renders him, if not in a political, yet in a moral, a
philosophick, an heroick, and a Christian Sense, an absolute
Monarch: Who satisfied with this unchangeable, just, and
ample Glory, must needs turn all his Regards from himI
self, to the Service of others; for he begins his Enterprietefi
w:
160 THE SPECTATOR
I
ednes/
I
tober
, 1712.
with his own Share in the Success of them; for Integrity
bears in it self its Reward, nor can that which depends
not on Event ever know Disappointment.
With the undoubted Character of a glorious Captain, and
(what he much more values than the most splendid Titles)
that of a sincere and honest Man, he is the Hope and
Stay of Europe, an Universal Good not to be engrossed
by us only; for distant Potentates implore his Friendship,
and injured Empires court his Assistance. He rules the
World, not by an Invasion of the People of the Earth, but
the Address of its Princes; and if that World should be
again rous'd from the Repose which his prevailing Arms
had given it, why should we not hope that there is an
Almighty, by whose Influence the terrible Enemy, that
thinks himself prepar'd for Battle, may find he is but ripe
for Destruction, and that there may be in the Womb of
Time great Incidents, which may make the Catastrophe
of a prosperous Life as unfortunate as the particular Scenes
of it were successful. For there does not want a skilful
Eye and resolute Arm to observe and grasp the Occasion.
A Prince, who from

Fuit Ilium I 6 ingens
010.1. .-—V1rg.

T
NO. [ADDISON] Thursday, October 23.
Heu pietas, heu prisca fidesl .—Virg.
WE last Night received a Piece of ill News at our Club,
which very sensibly afflicted every one of us. I
question not but my Readers themselves will be troubled
at the hearing of it. To keep them no longer in Suspense,
Sir ROGER DE CoVERLY is dead. He departed this Life at
his House in the Country, after a few Weeks' Sickness.
Sir ANDREW FREEPoRT has a Letter from one of his Corre.
spondents in those Parts, that informs him the old Man
caught a Cold at the County Sessions, as he was very
warmly promoting an Address of his own penning, in
which he succeeded according to his Wishes. But this
Particular comes from a Whig/Justice of Peace, who was
always Sir RooER's Enemy and Antagonist. ILehave
tters

THE SPECTATOR 161
Letters both from the Chaplain and Captain Sentry which No. 517.
mention Nothing of it, but are filled with many Particulars Thur“
Letter from the Butler, who took so much Care of me last
Summer when I was at the Knight’s House. As my
Friend the Butler mentions, in the Simplicity of his Heart,
several Circumstances the others have passed over in
Silence, I shall give m Reader a Copy of his Letter, with/
out any Alteration or Diminution.
‘ Honoured Sir,
Knowing that you was my old Master's good Friend, I
could not forbear sending you the melancholy News of
his Death, which has afflicted the whole Country, as well
as his poor Servants, who loved him, I may say, better
than we did our Lives. I am afraid he caught his Death
the last Count Sessions, where he would go» to see Justice
done to a poor WVidow Woman, and her Fatherless Children
that had been wronged by a Neighbouring Gentleman;
for you know, Sir, my good Master was always the
poor Man's Friend. Upon his coming home, the first
Complaint he made was, that he had lost his Roast/Beef
Stomach, not being able to touch a Sirloin, which was
served up according to Custom; and you know he used
to take great Delight in it. From that Time forward
he grew worse and worse, but still kept a good Heart
to the last. Indeed we were once in great Hope of
his Recovery, upon a kind Message that was sent him
from the Widow Lady whom he had made Love to
the fort}r last Years of his Life; but this only proved
a Light nin before Death. He has bequeathed to this
Lady, as a
and a Couple of Silver Bracelets set with Jewels, which
belonged to my good old Lady his Mother; He has
bequeathed the fine white Gelding, that he used to ride
a hunting upon, to his Chaplain, because he thought he
would be kind to him, and has left you all his Books.
He has, moreover, bequeathed to the Chaplain a very
pretty Tenement with good Lands about it. It being a
very cold Day when he made his Will, he left for
Mourning, to every Man in the Parish, a great Igize
IV. L at
oken of his Love, a great Pearl Necklace,
to the Honour of the good old Man. I have likewise a gmbe‘
3, 1712
162 THE SPECTATOR

. 517.
ursday,
tober
1712.
Coat, and to every Woman a black Riding/hood. It was
a most moving Sight to see him take Leave of his poor
Servants, commending us all for our Fidelity, whilst we
were not able to speak a Word for weeping. As we
most of us are grown grayvheaded in our Dear Master's
Service, he has left us Pensions and Legacies, which we
may live ver comfortably upon, the remaining Part of
our Days. He has bequeathed a great Deal more in
Charity, which is not yet come to my Knowledge, and
it is peremptorily said in the Parish, that he has left
Money to build a Steeple to the Church; for he was
heard to say some Time ago, that if he lived two Years
longer Coverly Church should have a Steeple to it. The
Chaplain tells every Body that he made a very good End,
and never speaks of him without Tears. He was buried,
according to his own Directions, among the Family of the
Coverlys, on the left Hand of his Father Sir Arthur.
The Coffin was carried by Six of his Tenants, and the
Fall held up by Six of the Quorum : The whole Parish
followed the Corps with heavy Hearts, and in their
Mourning/Suits, the Men in Frize, and the Women in
Ridingahoods. Captain Sentry, my Master's Nephew,
has taken Possession of the Hall/House, and the whole
Estate. When my old Master saw him a little before his
Death, he shook him by the Hand, and wished him joy
of the Estate which was falling to him, desiring him only
to make a good Use of it, and to pay the several Legacies,
and the Gifts of Charity which he told him he had left as
Quit/rents upon the Estate. The Captain truly seems a
courteous Man, though he says but little. He makes much
of those whom my Master loved, and shews great Kinda
ness to the old House/dog, that you know my poor
Master was so fond of. It wou’d have gone to your Heart
to have heard the Moans the dumb Creature made on the
Day of my Master’s Death. He has ne'er joyed himself
since; no more has any of us. ’Twas the melancholiest
Day for the poor People that ever happened in Worcester;
shire. This being all from,
Honoured Sir,
Your most sorrowful Servant,
Edward Biscuit.
P! 8'
THE SPECTATOR 163
P. S. My Master desired, some Weeks before he died,
that a Book which comes up to you by the Carrier should
be given to Sir Andrew Freeport, in his Name.’
This Letter, notwithstanding the poor Butler's Manner
of Writing it, gave us such an Idea of our good old Friend,
that upon the Reading of it there was not a dry Eye in the
Club. Sir Andrew opening the Book found it to be a
Collection of Acts of Parliament. There was in Particular
the Act of Uniformity, with some Passages in it marked
by Sir Roger's own Hand. Sir Andrew found that they
related to two or three Points, which he had disputed with
Sir Roger the last Time he appeared at the Club. Sir
Andrew, who would have been merry at such an Incident
on another Occasion, at the Sight of the old Man's Hand/
writing burst into Tears, and put the Book into his Pocket.
Captain Sentry informs me, that the Knight has left Rings
and Mourning for every one in the Club. O
No. 518.
[STEELE] Friday, October 24.
lI/Iiserum est aliorum incumbere famae,
Ne collapsa ruant subductis tecta columnis.—-Juv.
HIS being a Day of Business with me, I must make
the present Entertainment like a Treat at an
HousewWarming, out of such Presents as have been sent
me by my Guests. The first Dish which I serve up is a
Letter come fresh to my Hand.

‘ Mr. SPECTATOR,
It is with inexpressible Sorrow that I hear of the Death
of good Sir Roger, and do heartily condole with you
upon so melancholy an Occasion. I think you ought
to have blacken'd the Edges of a Paper which brought
us so ill News, and to have had it stamped likewise in
Black. It is expected of you that you should write his
Epitaph, and, if possible, fill his Place in the Club with
as worthy and diverting a Member. I question not
but you will receive many Recommendations from the
Publick of such as will appear Candidates for that Post.
Since I am talking of Death, and have mentioned an
Epitaph
No. 517.
Thursdz
October
23, 1712.
164 THE SPECTATOR
q. 518.
day
ctobei'
, 1712.
Epitaph, I must tell you, Sir, that I have made Discovery
or u Cnurch/Yard in which I believe you might spend an
Afternoon, with great Pleasure to your self and to the
Publick: It belongs to the Church of Stebon/Heath, com.
monly called Stepney. Whether or no it be that the
People of that Parish have a particular Genius for an
Epitaph, or that there be some Poet among them who
undertakes that Work by the Great, I can’t tell, but there
are more remarkable Inscriptions in that Place than in
any other I have met with, and I may say without
Vanity that there is not a Gentleman in England better
read in Tomb/stones than my self, my Studies having
laid very much in Church/ ards. I shall beg leave
to send you a Couple of pitaphs, for a Sample of
those I have just now mentioned. They are written
in a different manner; the first being in the diffused
and luxuriant, the second in the close contracted Stile.
The first has much of the Simple and Pathetick; the
sficond is something Light, but Nervous. The first is
us:
Here Thomas Sap er Iyes interr'd, Ah why!
Born in New/EngPand, did in London dye;
Was the third Son of Eight, begot upon
His Mother Martha by his Father John.
Much favour'd by his Prince he ’gan to be,
But nipt by Death at th' Age of Twenty Three.
Fatal to him was that we SmalI/ ox name, ‘
By which his Mother and two rethren came
Also to breath their last nine Years before,
And now have left their Father to deplore
The Loss of all his Children with his W/ife,
Who was the joy and Comfort of his Life.
The Second is as follows,
Here lies the Body of Daniel Saul,
Spittle/fields Weaver, and that’s all.
I will not dismiss you, whilst I am upon this Subject
without sending a short Epitaph which I once met with,
tho’ I cannot possibly recollect the Place. The Thought
of it is serious, and, in my Opinion, the finest that ever
I met with upon this Occasion. You know, Sir, it is
usual, after having told us the Name of the Person who
lies
THE SPECTATOR 165
lies interr’d, to launch out into his Praises. This Epitaph Na. 518.
takes a quite contrary Turn, having been made by the $2922
Person himself some time before his Death. 243712
Hie facet R. C. in expectatione diei supremi. Oualis erat dies
' I I I
1ste indicabit.
Here lieth R. C. in expectation of the last Day. What
sort of a Man he was that Day will discover.
I am, Sir, 8c.’
The following Letter is dated from Cambridge.
‘Sir,
Having lately read, among your Speculations, an Essay
upon Phisiognomy, I cannot but think that if you made
a Visit to this Antient University, you might receive
very considerable Lights upon that Subject, there being
scarce a young Fellow in it who does not give certain
Indications of his particular Humour and Disposition,
conformable to the Rules of that Art. In Courts and
Cities every Body lays a Constraint upon his Counten/
ance, and endeavours to look like the rest of the World;
but the Youth of this Place, having not _ yet formed them/
selves by Conversation, and the Knowledge of the World,
give their Limbs and Features their full Play.
As you have considered Human Nature in all its
Lights, you must be extremely well apprised, that there
is a very close Correspondence between the Outward and
the Inward Man; that scarce the least Dawning, the least
Parturiency‘itowards- a Thought can be stirring in the
Mind of Man, without producing a suitable Revolution
in his Exteriors, which will easily discover it self to an
Adept in the Theory of the Phiz. Hence it is, that the
intrinsic Worth and Merit of a Son of Alma Mater is
ordinarily calculated from the Cast of his Visage, the
Contour of his Person, the Mechanism of his Dress, the
Disposition of his Limbs, the Manner of his Gate and
Air, with a number of Circumstances of equal Conse/
quence and Information. The Practitioners in this Art
often make use of a Gentleman's Eyes to give ’em Light
into the Posture of his Brains; take a handle fromNhis
ose
166 THE SPECTATOR
Nose, to fudge of the size of his Intellects; and interpret
the over/much Visibility and Pertness of one Ear, as an
infallible mark of Reprobation, and a Sign the Owner of
so saucy a Member fears neither God nor Man. In Con/
formity to this Scheme, a contracted Brow, a lumpish
downacast Look, a sober sedate Pace, with both Hands
dangling quiet and steddy in Lines exactly parallel to
each Lateral Pocket of the Galligaskins, is Logic, Meta;
physics and Mathematics in Perfection. So likewise the
Belles Lettres are typified by a Saunter in the Gate, a
Fall of one Wing of the Peruke backward, an Insertion
of one Hand in the Fobb, and a negligent swing of the
other, with a Pinch of right and fine Barcelona between
Finger and Thumb, a due Quantity of the same upon the
upper Lip, and a Noddle/Case loaden with Pulvil. Again,
a grave solemn stalking Pace is Heroic Poetry, and
Politicks; an Unequal One, a Genius for the Ode, and the
modern Ballad; and an open Breast, with an audacious
Display of the Holland Shirt, is construed a fatal Tendency
to the Art Military. _
I might be much larger upon these Hints, but I know
whom I write to. If you can graft any Speculation upon
them, or turn them to the Advantage of the Persons con/
cerned in them, you will do a Work very becoming the
British Spectator, and oblige
Your very humble Servant,
Tom. Tweer.’
No. 519.
[ADDISONJ Saturday, October 25.
a Inde bominum pecudumque genus, vitaeque volantum,
E't quae marmoreo fert monstra sub aequore pontus.—Virg.
THOUGH there is a great deal of Pleasure in con;
templating the Material World, by which I mean
that System of Bodies into which Nature has so curiously
wrought the Mass of dead Matter, with the several Rela/ -
tions which those bodies bear to one another; there is
still, methinks, something more wonderful and surprizing
in Contemplations on the World of Life, by which I mean
all those Animals with which every Part of the Universe
is
THE SPECTATOR 167
is furnished.
the Universe: The World of Life are its Inhabitants.
If we consider those Parts of the Material World which
lie the nearest to us, and are therefore subject to our
Observations and Enquiries, it is amazing to consider the
Infinity of Animals with which it is stocked. Every part
of Matter is peopled: Every green Leaf swarms with
Inhabitants. There is scarce a single Humour in the
Body of a Man, or of any other Animal, in which our
Glasses do not discover Myriads of living Creatures. The
Surface of Animals is also covered with other Animals,
which are in the same manner the Basis of other
Animals that live upon it; nay, we find in the most-solid
Bodies, as in Marble it self, innumerable Cells and Cavities
that are crouded with such imperceptible Inhabitants, as
are too little for the naked Eye to discover. On the other
Hand, if we look into the more bulky Parts of Nature, we
see the Seas, Lakes and Rivers teeming with numberless
Kinds of living Creatures: We find every Mountain and
Marsh, Wilderness and Wood, plentifully stocked with
Birds and Beasts, and every part of Matter affording proper
Necessaries and Conveniencies for the Livelihood of
Multitudes which inhabit it.
The Author of the Plurality of Worlds draws a very
good Argument from this Consideration, for the peopling
of every Planet, as indeed it seems very probable from
the Analogy of Reason, that if no part of Matter, which
we are acquainted with, lies waste and useless, those
great Bodies which are at such a Distance from us
should not be desart and unpeopled, but rather that they
should be furnished with Beings adapted to their respective
Situations. '
Existence is a Blessing to those Beings only which are
endowed with Perception, and is, in a manner, thrown
away upon dead Matter, any further than as it is sub.
servient to Beings which are conscious of their Existence.
Accordingly we find, from the Bodies which lie under
our Observation, that Matter is only made as the Basis
and Support of Animals, and that there is no more of
the one, than what is necessary for the Existence of the
other.
Infinite
The Material World is only the Shell of No. 519
Saturda
October
25, 1712
168 THE SPECTATOR
O: 9|
lth‘CIaY,
ctober
5, 1712.

Infinite Goodness is of so communicative a Nature, that
it seems to delight in the conferring of Existence upon
every degree of Preceptive Being. As this is a Speculation
which I have often pursued with great Pleasure to my
self, I shall enlarge farther upon it, by considering that
part of the Scale of Beings which comes within our
Knowledge.
There are some living Creatures which are raised but
just above dead Matter. To mention only that Species
of Shell/fish, which are formed in the Fashion of a Cone,
that grow to the Surface of several Rocks, and immediately
die upon their being severed from the Place where they
grow. There are many other Creatures but one Remove
from these, which have no other Sense besides that of
Feeling and Taste. Others have still an additional one
of Hearing; others of Smell, and others of Sight. It is
wonderful to observe, by what a gradual Pro ress the
World of Life advances through a prodigious Wariety of
Species, before a Creature is formed that is compleat in
all its Senses, and even among these there is such a
different degree of Perfection in the Sense, which one
Animal enjoys beyond what appears in another, that
though the Sense in different Animals be distinguished
by the same common Denomination, it seems almost of
a different Nature. If after this we look into the several
inward Perfections of Cunning and Sagacity, or what
we generally call Instinct, we find them rising after
the same manner, imperceptibly one above another,
and receiving additional Improvements, according to the
Species in which they are implanted. This Progress in
Nature is so very gradual, that the most perfect of an
inferior Species comes very near to the most imperfect
of that which is immediately above it.
The exuberant and overflowing Goodness of the
Supream Being, whose Mercy extends to all his Works,
is plainly seen, as I have before hinted, from his having
made so very little Matter, at least what falls within our
Knowledge, that does not Swarm with Life: Nor is his
Goodness less seen in the Diversity than in the Multitude
of living Creatures. Had he only made one Species of
Animals, none of the rest would have enjoyed the Happi/
HESS
THE SPECTATOR 169
ness of Existence; he has, therefore, specified in his No. 519.
Creation every degree of Life, every Capacity of Being. Saturday
The whole Chasm in Nature, from a Plant to a Man, 205%,?
is filled up with diverse Kinds of Creatures, rising one ’ '
over another, by such a gentle and easie Ascent, that
the little Transitions and Deviations from one Species
to another, are almost insensible. This intermediate
Space is so well husbanded and managed, that there is
scarce a degree of Perception which does not appear in
some one part of the World of Life. Is the Goodness
or Wisdom of the Divine Being more manifested in this
his Proceeding?
There is a Consequence, besides those I have already
mentioned, which seems very naturally deducible from
the foregoing Considerations. If the Scale of Being rises
by such a regular Progress, so high as Man, we may by
a Parity of Reason suppose that it still proceeds dually
through those Beings which are of a Superior ature to
him, since there is an infinitely greater Space and Room
for different Degrees of Perfection, between the Supreme
Being and Man, than between Man and the most despic/
able Insect. This Consequence of so great a Variety of
Beings which are superior to us, from that Variety which
is inferior to us, is made by Mr. Lock, in a Passage which
I shall here set down, after having premised, that notv
withstandi there is such infinite room between Man
and his Ma er for the Creative Power to exert it self in, it
is impossible that it should ever be filled up, since there will
be still an infinite Gap or Distance between the highest
created Being, and the Power which produced him.
That there should be more Species of intelligent
Creatures above us, than there are of sensible and
material below us, is probable to me from hence ;
That in all the visible corporeal World, we see no
Chasms, or no Gaps. All quite down from us, the
descent is by easie steps, and a continued series of
things, that in each remove, differ very little one from
the other. There are Fishes that have Wings, and are
not Strangers to the airy Region : and there are some
Birds, that are Inhabitants of the Water: whose Blood
is cold as Fishes, and their Flesh so like in Taste, that
the

170 THE SPECTATOR
io. 559.
tur a
)actobery'
f5, 1712.
the scrupulous are allowed them on Fish/days. There
are Animals so near of kin both to Birds and Beasts,
that they are in the middle between both : Amphibious
Animals link the Terrestrial and Aquatique together;
Seals live at Land and at Sea, and Porpoises have the
warm Blood and Entrails of a Hog, not to mention
what is confidently reported of Mermaids or Sea/men.
There are some Brutes, that seem to have as much
Knowledge and Reason, as some that are called Men .'
and the Animal and Vegetable Kingdoms are so nearly
joyn'd, that if you will take the lowest of one, and the
highest of the other, there will scarce be perceived any
great difference between them ; and so on till we come
to the lowest and the most inorganical parts of Matter,
we shall find every where that the several Species are
linked together, and differ but in almost insensible
degrees. And when we consider the infinite Power
and Wisdom of the Maker, we have reason to think,
that it is suitable to the magnificent Harmony of the
Universe, and the great Design and infinite Goodness
of the Architect, that the Species of Creatures should
also, by gentle degrees, Ascend upward from us toward
his infinite Perfection, as we see they gradually descend
from us downward: Which if it be probable, we have
reason then to be persuaded, that there are far more
Species of Creatures above us, than there are beneath;
we being in degrees of perfection much more remote
from the infinite Being of God, than we are from the
lowest state of Being, and that which approaches nearest
to nothing. And yet of all those distinct Species, we
have no clear distinct Ideas.
In this System of Being, there is no Creature so
wonderful in its Nature, and which so much deserves
our particular Attention, as Man, who fills up the middle
Space between the Animal and Intellectual Nature, the
visible and invisible World, and is that Link in the Chain
of Beings which has been often termed the nexus utri/
usque mundi. So that he, who in one Respect is asso.
ciated with Angels and Arch/Angels, may look upon a
Being of infinite Perfection as his Father, and the highest
Order of Spirits as his Brethren, and may in another
' Respect
THE SPECTATOR 171
Respect say to Corruption, thou art my Father, and to No. 519.
the Worm, thou art my Mother and my Sister. O Soaclégtv.
25. 1712.
No. 520.
Monday, October 27.
Quis desiderio sit pudor aut modus
Tam cari capitis !——r—Hor.
‘ Mr. SPECTATOR,
HE just Value you have expressed for the Matri/
monial State, is the Reason that I now venture to
write to you, without Fear of being ridiculous, and confess
to you, that though it is three Months since I lost a very
agreeable Woman, who was my Wife, my Sorrow is still
fresh; and I am often, in the midst of Company, upon any
Circumstance that revives her Memory, with a Reflection
what she would say or do on such an Occasion; I say,
upon any Occurrence of that Nature, which I can give you
a Sense of, though I cannot express it wholly, I am all
over Softness, and am obliged to retire, and give Way to
a few Sighs and Tears, before I can be easie. I cannot
but recommend the Subject of Male Widowhood to you,
and beg of you to touch upon it by the first Opportunity.
To those who have not lived like Husbands during the
Lives of their Spouses, this would be a tasteless Jumble of
Words; but to such (of whom there are not a few) who
have enjoyed that State with the Sentiments proper for it,
you will have every Line, which hits the Sorrow, attended
with a Tear of Pity and Consolation. For I know not by
what Goodness of Providence it is, that every Gush of
Passion is a Step towards the Relief of it; and there is a
certain Comfort in the very Act of Sorrowing, which, I
suppose, arises from a secret Consciousness in the Mind,
that the Affliction it is under flows from a virtuous Cause.
My Concern is not indeed so outragious as at the first
Transport; for I think it has subsided rather into a sober
State of Mind, than any actual Perturbation of Spirit.
There might be Rules formed for Men’s Behaviour on
this great Incident, to bring them from that Misfortune
into the Condition I am at present, which is, I think, that
my Sorrow has converted all Roughness of Temper into
Meekness
172 THE SPECTATQR
o. 520.
onday,
ctober
7, 1712.
Meekness, Good/nature, and Complacency: But indeed
when in a serious and lonely Hour I present my departed
Consort to my Imagination, with that Air of Perswasion
" in her Countenance when I have been in Passion, that
sweet Affability when I have been in good Humour, that
tender Compassion when I have had any thing which
gave me Uneasiness; I confess to you I am inconsolable,
and my Eyes ush with Grief as if I had seen her but just
then expire. n this Condition I am broken in upon by
a charming young Woman, my Daughter, who is the
Picture of what her Mother was on her Wedding/Day.
The good Girl strives to comfort me; but how shall I let
you know that all the Comfort she gives me is to make
my Tears flow more easily? The Child knows she
quickens my Sorrows, and rejoices my Heart at the same
Time. Oh, ye Learned, tell me by what Word to speak
a Motion of the Soul for which there is no Name.
When she kneels and bids me be comforted, she is
my Child; when I take her in my Arms, and bid
her say no more, she is my very Wife, and is the
very Comforter I lament the Loss of. I banish her the
Room, and weep aloud, that I have lost her Mother, and
that I have her.
Mr. SPECTATOR, I wish it were possible for you to have a
Sense of these pleasing Perplexities; you might coma
municate to the guilty Part of Mankind, that they are
incapable of the Happiness which is in the very Sorrows
of the Virtuous. '
But pray spare me a little longer; give me Leave to
tell you the Manner of her Death. She took Leave of all
her Family, and bore the vain Application of Medicines
with the greatest Patience imaginable. When the Physia
cian told her she must certainly die, she desired, as well
as she could, that all who were present, except my self,
might depart the Room. She said she had nothing to say,
for she was resigned, and I knew all she knew that
concerned us in this World; but she desired to be alone,
that in the Presence of God only she might, without
Interruption, do her last Duty to me, of thanking me for
all my Kindness to her; adding, That she hoped in my
last Moments I should feel the same Comfort for my
Goodness
THE SPECTATOR 173
Goodness to her, as she did in that she had acquitted No. 520.
herself with Honour, Truth and Virtue to me. Monday.
I curb my self, and will not tell you that this Kindness .
cut my Heart in twain, when I expected an Accusation ’ '
for some passionate Starts of mine in some Parts of our
Time together, to say nothing, but thank me for the Good,
if there was any Good suitable to her own Excellence!
All that I had ever said to her, all the Circumstances of
Sorrow and Joy between us, crowded upon my Mind in
the same Instant; and when immediately after I saw the
Pangs of Death come" upon that dear Body which I had
often embraced with Transport; when I saw those
cherishing Eyes begin to be ghastly, and their last
Stru gle to be to fix themselves on me, how did I lose
all atience? She expired in my Arms, and in my
Distraction I thought I saw her Bosom still heave.
There was certainly Life yet still left; I cried she iust
now spoke to me: But, alas! I grew giddy, and all
things moved about me from the Distemper of my
own Head; for the best of Women was breathless, and
gone for ever.
Now the Doctrine I would, methinks, have you raise
from this Account I have given you. is, That there is a
certain Equanimity in those who are good and iust, which
runs into their very Sorrow, and disappoints the Force
of it. Tho' they must pass thro' Afflictions in common
with all who are in human Nature, yet their conscious
Integrity shall undermine their Affliction; nay, that very
Affliction shall add Force to their Integrity, from a Re)
flection of the use of Virtue in the Hour of Affliction.
I sate down with a Design to put ou upon giving
us Rules how to overcome such Grie s as these; but I
fiOUld rather advise you to teach Men to be capable of
You Men of Letters have what you call the fine Taste
in their Apprehensions of what is properly done or said:
There is- something like this deeply grafted in the Soul
of him who is honest and faithful in all his Thoughts and
Actions. Every thing which is false, vitious, or unworthy
is despicable to him, tho’ all the World should approve
it. At the same Time he has the most lively Sensibility
1n
174 THE SPECTATOR
o. 520.
onday,
ctober
7, 1712.
in all Enjoyments and Sufferings which it is proper for
him to have, where any Duty of Life is concerned. To
want Sorrow when you in Decency and Truth should be
afflicted, is, I should think, a greater Instance of a Man's
being a Blockhead, than not to know the Beauty of any
Passage in Virgil. You have not yet observed, Mr
SPECTATOR, that the fine Gentlemen of this Age set up for
Hardness of Heart, and Humanity has very little Share
in their Pretences. He is a brave Fellow who is always
ready to kill a Man he hates, but he does not stand in the
same Degree of Esteem who laments for the Woman he
loves. I should fancy you might work up a thousand
petty Thoughts, by reflecting upon the Persons most
susceptible of the sort of Sorrow I have spoken of; and
I dare say you will find upon Examination, that they
are the wisest and the bravest of Mankind who are most
capable of it.
Norwich, I am' I
7° Octobris, S1r,
1712. Your most humble Servant,
T F. I.’
No. 521.
[STEELE] Tuesday, October 28.
Vera redit facies, assimulata perit.—Pe. Arb.
‘ Mr. SPECTATOR,
HAVE been for many Years loud in this Assertion,
I That there are very few that can see or hear, I mean
that can report what they have seen or heard; and this
through Incapacity or Prejudice, one of which disables
almost every Man who talks to you from representing
things as he ought. For which Reason I am come to a
Resolution of believing nothing I hear; and I contemn
the Men given to Narration under the Appellation of a
Matter of Fact Man: And according to me a Matter of
Fact Man is one whose Life and Conversation is spent
in the Report of what is not Matter of Fact.
I remember when Prince Eugene was here, there was
no knowing his Height or Figure, 'till you, Mr. SPECTATOR,
gave
THE SPECTATOR 175
gave the Public Satisfaction in that Matter. In Relations, No. 521,
the Force of the Expression lies very often more in the TWSda‘Y;
Look, the Tone of Voice, or the Gesture, than the Words ggtigg
themselves; which being repeated in any other manner ' '
by the Undiscerning, bear a very different Interpretation
from their original Meaning. I must confess, I formerly
have turned this Humour of mine to very good Account;
for whenever I heard any Narrations utter'd with extra;
ordinary vehemence, and grounded upon considerable
Authority, I was always ready to lay any Wager that it
was not so. Indeed I never pretended to be so rash, as to
fix the Matter any particular Way in Opposition to theirs;
but as there are an hundred Ways of any thing happen/
ing, besides that it has happen’d,.I only controverted its
falling out in that one Manner as they settled it, and
left it to the Ninety nine other Ways, and consequently
had more Probability of Success. I had arrived at a par/
ticular Skill in warming a Man so far in his Narration,
as to make him throw in a little of the Marvelous, and
then, if he has much Fire, the next Degree is the Im/
possible. Now this is always the Time for fixing the
Wager. But this requires the nicest Management, other/
wise very probably the Dispute may arise to the old
Determination by Battel. In these Conceits I have been
very fortunate, and have won some Wagers of those who
have professedly valued themselves upon Intelligence,
and have put themselves to great Charge and Expence
to be misinform'd considerably sooner than the rest of
the World.
Having got a comfortable Sum by this my Opposition
to publick Report, I have brought my self now to so great
a Perfection in Inattention, more especially to Party Re/
lations, that at the same time I seem with greedy Ears
to devour up the Discourse, I certainly don't know one
Word of it, but pursue my own Course of Thought,
whether upon Business or Amusement, with much Tran;
quility: I say Inattention, because a late Act of Parliament
has secur’d all Party/Lyars from the Penalty of a Wager,
and consequently made it unprofitable to attend them.
However, good Breeding obliges a Man to maintain the
Figure of the keenest Attention, the true Posture of which

in
176‘ THE ' SPECTATOR
oQSZL
uesday,
ctober
, 1712.
_ in a Coffeewhouse I take to consist in leaning over a Table,
with the Edge of it pressing hard upon your Stomach; for
the more Pain the Narration is received with the more
gracious is your bending over: Besides that, the Narrator
tiltinks you forget your Pain by the Pleasure of hearing
1m.
Fort Knock has occasioned several very perplexed and
inelegant Heats and Animosities; and there was one
t’other Dayin a Coffee/house where I was, that took upon
him to clear that Business to me, for he said he was there,
I knew him to be that sort of Man that had not Strength
of Capacity to be informed of any thing that depended
merely upon his being an Eye~Witness, and therefore
was fully satisfied he could give me no Information, for
the very same Reason he believed he could, for he was
there. However, I heard him with the same Greediness
as Shakespear describes in the following Lines:
I saw a Smith stand on his Hammer, thus,
With open Mouth swallowing a Taylor's News,
I confess of late I have not been so much amazed
at the Declaimers in Coffee/houses as I formerly was,
being satisfied that they expect to be rewarded for their
Vociferations, Of these Liars there are two Sorts. The
Genius of the first consists in much Impudence and a
strong Memory; the others have added to these Qualifi~
cations a good Understanding and smooth Language.
These therefore have only certain Heads, which they
are as eloquent upon as they can, and may be called
Embellishers; the others repeat only what they hear
from others as literally as their Parts or Zeal will permit,
and are called Reciters. Here was a Fellow in Town
some Years ago, who used to divert himself by telling a
Lie at Chafing/Cross in the Morning at eight of the
Clock, and then following it through all Parts of the
Town till eight at Night; at which time he came to a
Club of his Friends, and diverted them with an Account
what Censure it had at Will's in Covent/garden, how
dangerous it was believed to be at Child's, and what
Inference they drew from it with Relation to Stocks at
[anathan’s I have had the Honour to travel with this
Gentleman
THE SPECTATOR 177
Gentleman I speak of in Search of one of his Falshoods; No. 521
and have been present when they have described the Tuesdai
very Man they have spoken to, as him who first
reported it, tall or short, black or fair, a Gentleman or
a Raggamuffin, according as they liked the Intelligence.
I have heard one of our ingenious Writers of News
say, that when he has had a Customer come with an
Advertisement of an Apprentice or a Wife run away,
he has desired the Advertiser to compose himself a
little, before he dictated the Description of the Offender;
For when a Person is put into a publick Paper by a Man
who is angry with him, the real Description of such
Person is hid in the Deformity with which the angry
Man described him; therefore this Fellow always made
his Customers describe him as he would the Day before
he offended, or else he was sure he would never find
him out. These and many other Hints I could suggest
to you for the Elucidation of all Factions; but I leave
it to your own Sagacity to improve or neglect this
Speculation.
I am, Sir,
Your most Obedient
Humble Servant.’
Postscript to the Spectator, Numb. 502.
N. B. There are in the Play of the Self.Tormentor
of Terence's, which is allowed a most excellent Comedy,
several Incidents which would draw Tears from any
Man of Sense, and not one which would move his
Laughter.
No. 522.
[STEELE] Wednesday, October 29.
Adjuro . . . nunquam eam me deserturum,
Non, si capiundos mihi sciam esse inmn'cos omnis homines.
Hanc mi expetivi, contigit: conveniunt mores: valeant
Oui inter nos dissidium volunt: hanc ms: mors mi adimet nemo.
——Ter.
I SHOULD esteem my self a very happy Man, if my
Speculations could in the least contribute to the rectify.
ing the Conduct of my Readers in one of the most important
W. M Affairs


October
28, 1712
178 THE SPECTATOR
l
. 522.
%dnesw
:tober
;, 1712.
Affairs of Life, to wit, their Choice in Marriage. This
State is the Foundation of Community, and the chief Band
of Society; and I do not think I can be too frequent on
Subjects which may give Light to my unmarried Readers,
in a Particular which is so essential to their following
Happiness or Misery. A virtuous Disposition, a good
Understanding, an agreeable Person, and an easie Fortune,
are the Things which should be chiefly regarded on this
Occasion. Because my present View is to direct a young
Lady, who, I think, is now in Doubt whom to take of
many Lovers, I shall talk at this Time to my female
Reader. The Advantages, as I was going to say, of Sense,
Beauty and Riches, are what are certainly the chief Motives
to a prudent young Woman of Fortune for changing her
Condition; but as she is to have her Eye upon each of
these, she is to ask her self whether the Man who has most
of these Recommendations in the Lump is not the most
desirable. He that has excellent Talents, with a moderate
Estate, and an agreeable Person, is preferable to him who
is only rich, if it were only that good Faculties may
urchase Riches, but Riches cannot purchase worthy
Endowments. I do not mean that Wit, and a Capacity
to entertain, is what should be highly valued, except it is
founded upon Good/nature and Humanity. There are
many ingenious Men, whose Abilities do little else but
make themselves and those about them uneasie: Such are
those who are far gone in the Pleasures of the Town, who
cannot support Life without quick Sensations and gay
Reflections, and are Strangers to Tranquility, to right
Reason, and a calm Motion of Spirits without Transport
or Dejection. These ingenious Men, of all Men living,
are most to be avoided by her who would be happy in
an Husband. They are immediately sated withPossession,
and must necessarily fly to new Acquisitions of Beauty,
to pass away the whiling Moments and Intervals of Life;
for with them ever Hour is heavy that is not joyful.
But there is a sort of Man of Wit and Sense, that can reflect
upon his own Make, and that of his Partner, with the
Eyes of Reason and Honour, and who believes he offends
against both these, if he does not look upon the Woman
(who chose him to be under his Protection in Sickness1
an
THE SPECTATOR 179
and Health) with the utmost Gratitude, whether from No. 522
that Moment she is shining or defective in Person or Wain"
Mind: Isay there are those who think themselves bound 333%,)
to supply with Goodmature the Failings of those who love 296373
them, and who always think those the Objects of Love
and Pity, who came to their Arms the Objects of joy and
Admiration.
Of this latter sort is Lysander, a Man of Wit, Learning,
Sobriety and Good/nature, of Birth and Estate below
no Woman to accept, and of whom it might be said,
should he succeed in his present Wishes, his Mistress
raised his Fortune, but not that she made it. When
a Woman is deliberating with her self whom she
shall chuse of many near each other in other Preten/
sions, certainly be of best Understanding is to be
preferr'd. Life hangs heavily in the repeated Conver/
sation of one who has no Imagination to be fired at
the several Occasions and Objects which come before
him, or who cannot strike out of his Reflections new
Paths of pleasing Discourse. Honest Will. Thrash and
his Wife, though not married above four Months, have
scarce had a Word to say to each other this Six Weeks;
and one cannot form to ones self a sillier Picture, than
those two Creatures in solemn Pomp and Plenty unable
to enjoy their Fortunes, and at a full Stop among a
Crowd of Servants, to whose Taste of Life they are
beholden for the little Satisfactions by which they can
be understood to be so much as barely in Being.
The Hours of the Day, the Distinctions of Noon and
Night, Dinner and Supper, are the greatest Notices they
are capable of. This is perhaps representing the Life
of a very modest Woman, join'd to a dull Fellow, more
insipid than it really deserves; but I am sure it is not
to exalt the Commerce with an ingenious Companion
too high, to say that ever new Accident or Object
which comes into such a Gentleman’s Way, gives his
Wife new Pleasures and Satisfactions. The Approba/
tion of his Words and Actions is a continual new
Feast to her; nor can she enough applaud her good
Fortune in having her Life varied every Hour; her Mind
more improved, and her Heart more glad from every
Circumstance

180 THE SPECTATOR
L. 522.
ednes/
Zdber
, 1712.

Circumstance which they meet with. He will lay out his
Invention in forming new Pleasures and Amusements,
and make the Fortune she has brought him subservient
to the Honour and Reputation of her and hers. A Man
of Sense who is thus obliged, is ever contriving the
Happiness of her who did him so great a Distinction;
while the Fool is ungrateful without Vice; and never
returns a Favour because he is not sensible of it. I would,
methinks, have so much to say for my self, that if I fell
into the Hands of him who treated me ill, he should be
sensible when he did so: His Conscience should be of my
Side whatever became of his Inclination. I do not know
but it is the insipid Choice which has been made by those
who have the Care of young Women, that the Marriage
State it self has been liable to so much Ridicule. But a
well/chosen Love, moved by Passion on both Sides, and
perfected by the Generosity of one Party, must be adorn’d
with so many handsome Incidents on the other Side, that
every particular Couple would be an Example in many
Circumstances to all the rest of the Species. I shall end
the Chat upon this Subject with a Couple of Letters, one
from a Lover who is very well acquainted with the way
of bargaining on these Occasions; and the other from his
Rival, who has a less Estate, but great Gallantry of Temper.
As for my Man of Prudence, he makes Love, as he says,
as if he were already a Father, and laying aside the
Passion, comes to the Reason of the Thing.
‘ Madam.
My Council has perused the Inventory of your Estate,
and considered what Estate you have, which it seems is
only yours, and to the Male Heirs of your Body; but, in
Default of such Issue, to the right Heirs of your Uncle
Edward for ever. Thus, Madam, I am advised you cannot
(the Remainder not being in you) dock the Entail; by
which means my Estate, which is Fee/Simple, will come
by the Settlement proposed to your Children begotten by
me whether they are Males or Females; but my Children
begotten upon you will not inherit your Lands, except I
be et a Son. Now, Madam, since Things are so, you are
a Woman of that Prudence, and understand the World so
well
THE SPECTATOR 181
well, as not to expect I should give you more than you @o. 522
can give me.
I am, Madam,
(With great Respect)
Your most Obedient
Humble Servant,
Tl WI,
The other Lover's Estate is less than this Gentleman’s,
but he express’d himself as follows.
‘ Madam,
I have given in my Estate to your Council, and desired
my own Lawyer to insist upon no Terms which your
Friends can propose for your certain Ease and Advantage:
For indeed I have no Notion of making Difficulties of pre.
senting you with what cannot make me happy without
you.
I am, Madam,
Your most Devoted
Humble Servant,
BI Tl,
You must know the Relations have met upon this, and
the Girl being mightily taken with the latter Epistle, she
is lau h'd out, and Uncle Edward is to be dealt with to
make er a suitable Match to the worthy Gentleman who
has told her he does not care a Farthing for her. AllI
hope for is, that the Lady Fair will make use of the first
light Night to show B. T. she understands a Marriage is
not to be considered as a common Bargain. T
No. 523.
[ADDISON.] Thursday, October 30.
—-————Nunc augur Apollo,
Nunc Lyciae sortes, nunc 8 love missus ab ipso
Interpres divum fert horrida jussa per auras.
Scilicet is superis labor est.—Virg.
AM always highly delighted with the Discovery of
any rising Genius among my Countrymen. For
this Reason I have read over, with great Pleasure, the late
' Miscellany
182 THE SPECTATOR
.. 523. Miscellany published by Mr. Pope, in which there are
“*"daY. many excellent Compositions of that ingenious Gentleman.
“$3 I have had a Pleasure, of the same Kind, in perusing a Poem
' ' that is just published on the Prospect of Peace, and which,
I hope, will meet with such a Reward from its Patrons, as
so noble a Performance deserves. I was particularly well
pleased to find that the Author had not amused himself with
Fables out of the Pagan Theology, and that when he hints at
an thing of this Nature, he alludes to it only as to a Fable.
any of our Modern Authors, whose Learning very
often extends no farther than Ovid's Metamorphosis, do
not know how to celebrate a great Man, without mixing
a parcel of School/boy Tales with the Recital of his
Actions. If you read a Poem on a fine Woman, among
the Authors of this Class, you shall see that it turns more
upon Venus or Helen. than on the Party concerned. I
have known a Copy of Verses on a great Hero highly
commended, but upon asking to hear some of the
beautiful Passa es, the Admirer of it has repeated to
me a Speech 0 A pollo, or a Description of Polypheme.
At other times when I have searched for the Actions of a
Great Man, who gave a Subject to the Writer, I have been
entertained with the Exploits of a River/God, or have been
forced to attend a Fury in her mischievous Progress, from
one end of the Poem to the other. When we are at
School it is necessar for us to be acquainted with the
System of Pagan heologY. and may be allowed to
enliven a Theme, or point an Epigram with an Heathen
God; but when we would write a manly Panegyrick,
that should carry in it all the Colours of Truth, nothing
can be more ridiculous than to have Recourse to our
jupiters and ]unos.
No Thought is beautiful which is not just, and no
Thought can be just which is not founded in Truth, or at
least in that which passes for such.
In Mock/Heroick Poems, the Use of the Heathen
Mythology is not only excusable but graceful, because it
is the Design of such Compositions to divert, by adapting
the fabulous Machines of the Antients to low Subjects, and
at the same time by ridiculing such kinds of Machinery
in Modern Writers. If any are of Opinion, that there is
a

THE SPECTATOR 183
a Necessity of admitting these Classical Legends into our No, 523
Serious Compositions, in order to give them a more Thursd'
Poetical Turn; I would recommend to their Consideration
the Pastorals of Mr. Philips. One would have thought
it impossible for this kind of Poet to have subsisted
without Pawns and Satyrs, Wood/ ymphs and Water;
Nymphs, with all the Tribe of Rural Deities. But we
see he has given a new Life, and a more natural Beauty
to this way of Writing, by substituting in the Place of
these antiquated Fables, the superstitious Mythology which
prevails among the Shepherds of our own Country.
Virgil and Homer might compliment their Heroes, by
interweaving the Actions of Deities with their Atchieve/
ments; but for a Christian Author to write in the Pagan
Creed, to make Prince Eugene a Favourite of Mars, or to
carry on a Correspondence between Bellona and the
Marshal De Villars, would be downright Puerility, and
unpardonable in a Poet that is past Sixteen. It is Want of
sufficient Elevation in a Genius to describe Realities, and
place them in a shining Light, that makes him have
Recourse to such trifling antiquated Fables; as a Man may
write a fine Description of Bacchus or Apollo, that does
not know how to draw the Character of any of his
Contemporaries.
In order therefore to put a stop to this absurd Practice,
I shall publish the following Edict, by Vertue of that
Spectatorial Authority with which I stand invested.
‘Whereas the Time of a General Peace is, in all Appear»
ance, drawing near; being informed that there are several
ingenious Persons who intend to shew their Talents on
so happy an Occasion, and being willing, as much as in
me lies, to prevent that Effusion of Nonsense, which we
have good Cause to apprehend; I do hereby strictly
require every Person, who shall write on this Subiect,
’to remember that he is a Christian, and not to sacrifice
his Catechism to his Poetry. In order to it, I do expect of
him in the first Place, to make his own Poem, without
depending upon Phoebus for any part of it, or calling out
for Aid upon any one of the Muses by Name. I do like»
ways positively forbid the sending of Mercury with any
particular
October
30, 1712
184 THE SPECTATOR
:tober

o. 523. particular Message or Dispatch relating to the Peace, and
hmdav. shall by no means suffer Minerva to take upon her the
Shape of any Plenipotentiary concerned in this Great
Work. I do further declare, that I shall not allow the
Destinies to have had an Hand in the Deaths of the
several Thousands who have been slain in the late War,
being of Opinion that all such Deaths may be very well
accounted for by the Christian System of Powder and
Ball. I do therefore strictly forbid the Fates to cut the
Thread of Man's Life upon any Pretence whatsoever,
unless it be for the sake of the Rhime. And whereas I
have good Reason to fear, that Neptune will have a great
deal of Business on his Hands, in several Poems which
we may now suppose are upon the Anvil, I do also pro.
hibit his Appearance, unless it be done in Metaphor,
Simile, or any very short Allusion, and that even here
he be not permitted to enter, but with great Caution and
Circumspection. I desire that the same Rule may be
extended to his whole Fraternity of Heathen Gods, it
being my Design to condemn every Poem to the Flames
in which jupiter thunders, or exercises any other Act
of Authority which does not belong to him: In short,I
expect that no Pagan Agent shall be introduced, or any
Fact related which a Man cannot give Credit to with a
good Conscience. Provided always, that nothing herein
contained shall extend, or be construed to extend, to
several of the Female Poets in this Nation, who shall
be still left in full Possession of their Gods and Goddesses,
in the same manner as if this Paper had never been
written.’ O
NO. Friday; OCtober 31:
Nos populo damus————.—-Sen.
HEN I first of all took it in my Head to write
Dreams and Visions, I determined to Print nothing
of that nature, which was not of my own Invention. But
several laborious Dreamers have of late communicated
to me Works of this nature, which, for their Reputations
and my own, I have hitherto suppressed. Had I printed
every
THE SPECTATOR 185
every one that came to my Hands, my Book of Specula/ No. 524
tions would have been little else but a Book of Visions. Prldayr
Some of my Correspondents have indeed been so very 31 modest, as to offer at an Excuse for their not being in a ' '
Capacity to dream better. I have by me, for Example, the
Dream of a young Gentleman not past Fifteen. I have
likewise by me the Dream of a Person of Quality, and
another called the Ladies/Dream. In these, and other
Pieces of the same Nature, it is supposed the usual Allow;
ances will be made to the Age, Condition, and Sex of the
Dreamer. To prevent this Inundation of Dreams, which
daily flows in upon me, I shall apply to all Dreamers of
Dreams, the Advice which Epictetus has couched after his
manner in a very simple and concise Precept. ‘Never
tell thy Dreams, says that Philosopher, for tho' thou thy;
selfmayest take a Pleasure in telling thy Dream, another
will take no Pleasure in hearing it.’ After this short
Preface, I must do Justice to two or three Visions which I
have lately published, and which I have owned to have
been written by other Hands. I shall add a Dream to
these, which comes to me from Scotland, by one who
declares himself of that Country, and for all I know may
be Secondwsighted. There is, indeed, something in it of
the Spirit of john Bunyan; but at the same time a certain
Sublime, which that Author was never Master of. I
shall publish it, because I question not but it will fall in
with the Taste of all my popular Readers, and amuse the
Imaginations of those who are more profound; declaring,
at the same time, that this is the last Dream which I
intend to publish this Season.

' Sir,
I was last Sunday, in the Evening, led into a serious
Reflection on the Reasonableness of Virtue, and great Folly
of Vice, from an Excellent Sermon I had heard that After/
noon in my Parish Church. Among other Observations,
the Preacher shewed us, that the Temptations which the
Tempter proposed, were all on a Supposition, that we are
either Madmen or Fools, or with an Intention to render
us such; that in no other Affair we would suffer our
selves to be thus imposed upon, in a Case so plainly and
clearly_
186 THE SPECTATOR
O'l
1day
ctobei'
, 1712.
clearly against our visible Interest. His Illustrations and
Arguments carried so much Perswasion and Conviction
with them, that they remained a considerable while fresh,
and working in my Memory; 'till at last the Mind,
fatigued with Thought, gave way to the forcible Oppres/
sions of Slumber and Sleep, whilst Fancy, unwilling yet to
drop the Subject, presented me with the following Vision.
Methought I was just awoke out of a Sleep, that I could
never remember the beginning of; the Place where I
found my self to be was a wide and spacious Plain, full of
People that wandred up and down through several beaten
Paths, whereof some few were streight, and in direct
Lines; but most of them winding and turning like a
Labyrinth; but yet it appeared to me afterwards, that
these last all met in one Issue, so that many that seemed ‘
to steer quite contrary Courses, did at length meet and
face one another, to the no little Amazement of many of
t em.
In the midst of the Plain there was a great Fountain:
They called it the Spring of Self/Love; out of it issued
two Rivulets to the Eastward and Westward, the Name of
the first was Heavenly Wisdom, its Water was wonder;
fully clear, but of a yet more wonderful Effect; the other's
Name was Worldly IVisdom, its Water was thick, and yet
far from being dormant or stagnating, for it was in a
continual violent Agitation; which kept the Travellers,
whom I shall mention by and by, from being sensible of
the foulness and thickness of the Water, which had this
Effect, that it intoxicated those that drunk it, and made 'em
mistake every Object that lay before them; both Rivulets
were parted near their Springs into so many others, as there
were streight and crooked Paths, which they attended all
along to their respective Issues.
I observed from the several Paths many now and then
diverting, to refresh and otherwise qualifie themselves for
their journey, to the respective Rivulets that ran near
them; they contracted a very observable Courage and
Steadiness in what they were about, by drinking these
Waters. At the End of the Perspective of every streight
Path, all which did end in one Issue and Point, appeared
a high Pillar, all of Diamond, casting Rays as bright: as
t ose
THE SPECTATOR 187
those of the Sun into the Paths; which Rays had also No. 524.
certain sympathising and alluring Virtues in them, so Friday.
that whosoever had made some considerable Progress in 31%”?
his Journey onwards towards the Pillar, by the repeated '
Impression of these Rays upon him, was wrought into an
habitual Inclination and Conversion of his Sight towards
it, so that it grew at last in a manner natural to him to
look and gaze upon it, whereby he was kept steady in the
streight Paths, which alone led to that Radiant Body, the
lbxleholding of which was now grown a Gratification to his
ature.
At the Issue of the crooked Paths there was a great
black Tower, out of the Centre of which streamed a long
Succession of Flames, which did rise even above the
Clouds; it gave a very great Light to the whole Plain,
which did sometimes out/shine the Light, and opprest the
Beams of the Adamantine Pillar, tho', by the Observation
I made afterwards, it appeared that it was not for any
Diminution of Light, but that this lay in the Travellers,
who would sometimes step out of the streight Paths,
where they lost the full Prospect of the Radiant Pillar, and
saw it but sideays; but the great Light from the black
Tower which was somewhat particularly scorching to
them, would generally light and hasten them to their
proper Climate again.
Round about the black Tower there was, methoughts,
many Thousands of huge mis/shapen ugly Monsters;
these had great Nets, which they were perpetually plying
and casting towards the crooked Paths, and they would
now and then catch up those that were nearest to them;
these they took up streight, and whirled over the Walls
into the Flaming Tower, and they were no more seen
nor heard of.
They would sometimes cast their Nets towards the
right Paths to catch the Stragglers, whose Eyes for want
of frequent drinking at the Brook that ran by them, grew
dim, whereby they lost their Way; these would some;
times very narrowl miss being catched away, but I
could not hear whet er any of these had ever been so
unfortunate, that had been before very hearty in the
streight Paths. I
188 THE SPECTATOR
EC. 524. I considered all these strange Sights with great Atten.
r2113er ti<>11.'till at last I was interrupted by a Cluster of the
M712. Travellers in the crooked Paths, who came up to me, bid
me go along with them, and presently fell to Singing and
Dancing; they took me by the Hand, and so carried me
away along with them. After I had followed them a
considerable while, I perceived I had lost the black Tower
of Light, at which I greatly wondered; but as I looked
and gazed round about me, and saw nothing, I begun to
fancy my first Vision had been but a Dream, and there
was no such thing in reality; but then I considered, that
if I could fancy to see what was not, I might as well have
an Allusion wrought on me at present, and not see what
was really before me. I was very much confirmed in
this Thought, by the Effect I then just observed the Water
of Worldly Wisdom had upon me; for as I had drunk a
little of it again, I felt a very sensible Effect in my Head;
methought it distracted and disordered all there; this
made me stop of a sudden, suspecting some Charm or
Inchantment. As I was casting about within my self
what I should do, and whom to apply to in this Case,
I spyed at some distance off me a Man beckning, and
making Signs to me to come over to him. I cryed to
him, I did not know the Way. He then called to me
audibly, to step at least out of the Path I was in, for if I
staid there any longer I was in danger to be catched in a
great Net that was just hanging over me, and ready to
catch me up; that he wondered I was so blind, or so
distracted, as not to see so imminent and visible a
Danger; assuring me, that as soon as I was out of that
Way he would come to me to lead me into a more secure
Path. This I did, and he brought me his Palm full of the
Water of Heavenly Wisdom, which was of very great
use to me, for my Eyes were streight cleared, and I saw
the great Black Tower just before me; but the great Net,
which I spy'd so near me, cast me in such a Terror, that
I ran back as far as I could in one Breath, without looking
behind me; then my Benefactor thus bespoke me, You
have made the wonderfullest Escape in the World, the
Water you used to drink is of a bewitching Nature, you
would else have been mightily shocked at the Deformitiecsl
- an
THE SPECTATOR 189
and Meanness of the Place; for beside the Sett of blind No. 524.
Fools, in whose Company you was, you may now observe Friday.
many others, who are only bewitched after another no adj”???
less dangerous manner. Look a little that way, there ' '
goes a crowd of Passengers, they have indeed so good
a Head as not to suffer themselves to be blinded by this
bewitching Water; the Black Tower is not vanished out
of their Sight, they see it whenever they look up to it;
but see how they go sideways, and with their Eyes
downwards, as if they were Mad, that they may thus
rush into the Net, without being beforehand troubled at
the Thought of so miserable a Destruction. Their Wills
are so perverse, and their Hearts so fond of the Pleasures
of the Place, that rather than forego them they will run
all Hazards, and venture upon all the Miseries and Woes
before them. .
See there that other Company, tho’ they should drink
none of the betwitching Water, yet they take a Course
betwitching and deluding; see how they chuse the
crookedest Paths, whereby they have often the Black
Tower behind them, and sometimes see the radiant
Column side/ways, which gives them some weak
Glympse of it. These Fools content themselves with
that, not knowing whether any other have any more
of its Influence and Light than themselves; this Road
is called that of Superstition or Human Invention;
they grossly over/look that which the Rules and Laws
of the Place prescribe to them, and contrive some other
Scheme and Sett of Directions. and Prescriptions for
themselves, which they hope will serve their turn. He
shewed me many other kind of Fools, which put me
quite out of Humour with the Place. At last he carried
me to the right Paths, where I found true and solid
Pleasure, which entertained me all the Way, 'till we
came in closer sight of the Pillar, where the Satisfac/
tion increased to that measure that my Faculties were
not able to contain it; in the straining of them I was
violently waked, not a little grieved at the vanishing
of so pleasing a Dream.
Glascow, Sept. 29.’
Saturday
190 THE SPECTATOR

o. 525.
turday,
ov. l
12.
No. 525. '
[HUGHES] Saturday, November 1.
'O 8’ sis 1'6 o-écbpov in" dperfiv 1" (lytov 39mg
Z'qkw'rbs fivepé'rrow-w—-—-——.—Eurip.
T is my Custom to take frequent Opportunities of
enquiring from time to time, what Success my
Speculations meet with in the Town. I am glad to
find, in particular, that my Discourses on Marriage have
been well received. A Friend of mine gives me to
understand, from Doctor’s Commons, that more Licences
have been taken out there of late than usual. I am
likewise informed of several pretty Fellows, who have
resolved to commence Heads of Families by the first
favourable Opportunity. One of them writes me Word
that he is ready to enter into the Bonds of Matrimony,
provided I will give it him under my Hand (as I now
do) that a Man may shew his Face in good Company
after he is married, and that he need not be ashamed
to treat a Woman with Kindness, who puts her self
into his Power for Life.
I have other Letters on this Subiect, which say that
I am attempting to make a Revolution in the World of
Gallantry, and that the Consequence of it will be, that
a great deal of the sprightliest Wit and Satyr of the
last Age will be lost. That a bashful Fellow upon
changing his Condition, will be no longer puzzled how
to stand the Raillery of his facetious Companions; that
he need not own he married only to plunder an Heiress
of her Fortune, nor pretend that he uses her ill, to
avoid the ridiculous Name of a fond Husband.
Indeed if I may speak my Opinion of great part of
the Writi s which once prevailed among us under the
Notion of umour, they are such as would tempt one
to think there had been an Association among the Wits
of those Times to rally Legitimacy out of our Island.
A State of Wedlock was the common Mark for all the
Adventurers in Farce and Comedy, as well as the
Essayers in Lampoon and Satyr, to shoot at; and nothing
was a more standing Jest in all Clubs of fashionable
Mirth and gay Conversation. It was determined antipng
ose
THE SPECTATOR 191
those airy Criticks, that the Appellation of a Sober Man No. 525.
should signifie a Spiritless Fellow. And I am apt to Saturday
think it was about the same time, that Good/nature, a 1'
Word so peculiarly elegant in our Language, that some '
have affirmed it cannot well be expressed in any other,
came first to be rendered Suspicious, and in danger of
being transferred from its original Sense, to so distant
an Idea as that of Folly.
I must confess it has been my Ambition, in the Course
of my Writings, to restore, as well as I was able, the
proper Ideas of Things. And as I have attempted this
already on the Subject of Marriage, in several Papers,
I shall here add some further Observations which occur
to me on the same Head.
Nothing seems to be thought, by our fine Gentlemen,
so indispensable an Ornament in fashionable Life, as
Love. A Knight Errant, says Don Ouixot, without
a Mistress, is like a Tree without Leaves; and a Man
of Mode among Us, who has not some Fair One to sigh
for, might as well pretend to appear dressed, without
his Periwig. We have Lovers in Prose innumerable.
All our Pretenders to Rhime are profess'd Inamoratos;
and there is scarce a Poet, good or bad, to be heard of,
who has not some real or supposed Sacharissa to
im ove his Vein.
f Love be any Refinement, Conjugal Love must be cer1
tainly so in a much higher Degree. There is no Coma
parison between the frivolous Affectation of attracting
the Eyes of Women with whom you are only captivated
by Way of Amusement, and of whom perhaps you know
nothing more than their Features, and a regular and
uniform Endeavour to make your self valuable, both as
a Friend and Lover, to one whom you have chosen to be
the Companion of your Life. The first is the Spring of a
thousand Fopperies, silly Artifices, Falshoods, and perhaps
Barbarities; or at best arises no higher than to a kind
of Dancing/School Breeding, to give the Person a more
sparkling Air. The latter is the Parent of substantial
Virtues and agreeable Qualities, and cultivates the Mind
while it improves the Behaviour. The Passion of Love
to a Mistress, even where it is most sincere, resembles
too
192 THE SPECTATOR
o. 525.
turday,
ov. l,
12'
too much the Flame of a Feaver; that to a Wife is like the
Vital Heat.
I have often thought, if the Letters written by Men of
Good/nature to their Wives, were to be compared with
those written by Men of Gallantry to their Mistresses, the
former, notwithstanding any Inequality of Stile, would
appear to have the Advantage. Friendship, Tenderness,
and Constancy, drest in a Simplicity of Expression, re/
commend themselves by a more native Elegance, than
passionate Raptures, extravagant Encomiums, and slavish
Adoration. If we were admitted to search the Cabinet
of the beautiful Narcissa, among Heaps of Epistles from
several Admirers, which are there preserved with equal
Care, how few should we find but would make any one
sick in the reading, except her who is flattered by them?
But in how different a Stile must the wise Benevolus,
who converses with that good Sense and good Humour
among all his Friends, write to a Wife who is the worthy
Object of his utmost Affection! Benevolus, both in Publiok
and Private, on all Occasions of Life, appears to have
every Good Quality and desirable Ornament. Abroad he
is reverenced and esteemed; at Home beloved and happy.
The Satisfaction he enjoys there settles in to an habitual
Complacency, which shines in his Countenance, enlivens
his Wit, and seasons his Conversation. Even those of his
Acquaintance, who have never seen him in his Retire;
ment, are Sharers in the Happiness of it; and it is very
much owing to his being the best and best beloved of
Husbands, that he is the most stedfast of Friends, and the
most agreeable of Companions,
There is a sensible Pleasure in contemplating such
beautiful Instances of Domestick Life. The Happiness of
the Coniugal State appears heightened to the highest
Degree it is capable of, when we see two Persons of ac/
complished Minds, not only'united in the same Interests
and Affections, but in their Taste of the same Improve; -
ments, Pleasures and Diversions. Pliny, one of the finest
Gentlemen, and politest Writers of the Age in which he
lived, has left us, in his Letter to Hispulla, his Wife's
Aunt, one of the most agreeable Family/Pieces of this
kind I ever met with. I shall end this Discourse with a
Translation

THE SPECTATOR 193
Translation of it; and I believe the Reader will be of my No. 525.
Opinion, that Coniugal Love is drawn in it with a Delicacy SaturdaY;
which makes it appear to be, as I have represented it, an '1’
Ornament as well as a Virtue. '
‘PLINY to HISPULLA.
As I remember that great Affection which was between
you and your excellent Brother, and know you love his
Daughter as your own, so as not only to express the
Tenderness of the best of Aunts, but even to supply that
of the best of Fathers, I am sure it will be a Pleasure to
you to hear that she proves worthy of her Father, worthy
of You, and of your and her Ancestors. Her Ingenuity
is admirable; her Frugality extraordinary. She loves
me, the surest Pledge of her Virtue; and adds to this
a wonderful Disposition to Learning, which she has
acquired from her Affection to me. She reads my
Writings, studies them, and even gets them by Heart.
You’d smile to see the Concern she is in when I have
a Cause to plead, and the Joy she shews when it is over.
She finds Means to have the first News brought her of
the Success I meet with in Court, how I am heard, and
what Decree is made. If I recite any thing in Publick,
she cannot refrain from placing her self privately in some
Corner to hear, where with the utmost delight she feasts
on my Applauses. Sometimes she sings my Verses and
accompanies them with the Lute, without any Master,
except Love the best of Instructors. From these In/
stances I take the most certain Omens of our perpetual
and encreasing Happiness; since her Affection is not
founded on my Youth and Person, which must gradually
decay, but she is in Love with the immortal Part of me,
my Glory and Reputation. Nor indeed could less be ex/
pected from one who had the Happiness to receive her
Education from you, who in your House was accustomed
to every thing that was virtuous and decent, and even
began to love me by your Recommendation. For, as you
had always the greatest Respect for my Mother, you were
pleased from my Infanc to form me, to commend me,
and kindly to presage {should be one Day what my
Wife fancies I am. Accept therefore our united Thanks;
IV. N mine

194 THE SPECTATOR
o. 525.
turday,
ov. l.
2.
mine, that you have bestowed her on me, and hers, that
you have given me to her, as a mutual Grant of by and
Felicity.’
No. 526.
Monday, November 3.
Fortius utere Ions—Ovid.
[STEELE]
I AM very loth to come to Extremities with the young
Gentlemen mentioned in the following Letter, and do
not care to chastise them with my own Hand, till I am
forced by Provocations too great to be suffered without
the absolute Destruction of my Spectatorial Dignity. The
Crimes of these Offenders are placed under the Observa/
tion of one of my chief Officers, who is posted just at the
Entrance of the Pass between London and Westminster.
As I have great Confidence in the Capacity, Resolution,
and Integrity of the Person deputed b me to give an
Account of Enormities, I doubt not but Iy shall soon have
before me all proper Notices which are requisite for the
Amendment of Manners in Publick, and the Instruction
of each Individual of the human Species in what is due
from him, in respect to the whole Body of Mankind.
The present Paper shall consist only of the above/
mentioned Letter, and the Copy of a Deputation which I
have given to my trusty Friend Mr. [olm .S'ly; wherein
he is charged to notifie to me all that is necessary for
my Animadversion upon the Delinquents mentioned by
my Correspondent, as well as all others described in the
said Deputation.

‘To (be SmxroR/GENERAL of Great Britain.
I grant it does look a little familiar, but I must call
you
Dear Dumb,
Being got again to the farther End of the W'idow's
Coffee/house, I shall from hence give you some Account
of the Behaviour of our Hackney/Coachmen since my
last. These indefatigable Gentlemen, without the least
Design, I dare say, of Self/Interest or Advantage to them/
selves, do still ply as Volunteers Day and Night for the
Good
THE SPECTATOR 195
Good of their Country. I will not trouble you with Na, 526,
enumerating many Particulars, but I must by no Means Monday.
omit to inform you of an Infant about six Foot high, and 3'
between twenty and thirty Years of age, who was seen ’
in the Arms of an Hackney/Coachman driving by Will' s
Coffeechouse in Covent. Garden, between the Hours of
four and five in the Afternoon of that v Day wherein
you published a Memorial against them. 's impudent
young Cur, tho' he could not sit in a Coach.Box without
holding, yet would he venture his Neck to bid Defiance
to your Spectatorial Authority, or to any that
you countenanced. Who he was I know not, but I
heard this Relation this Morning from a Gentleman who
was an Eye/Witness of this his Impudence; and I was
willing to take the first Opportunity to inform you of
him, as holding it extreamly requisite that you should
nip him in the Bud. But I am my self most concerned
for my Fellow/Temples, Fellow.Students, and Fellow.
Labourers in the Law,I mean such of them as are dignified
and distinguished under the Denomination of Hackney.
Coachmen. Such aspiring Minds have these ambitious
young Men, that they cannot enjoy themselves out of
a Coach/Box. It is however an unspeakable Comfort to
me, that I can now tell you, that some of them are
grown so bashful as to study only in the Nighvtime. or
in the Country. The other Night I spied one of our
young Gentlemen very diligent at his Lucubrations in
Fleetstreet; and, by the Way, I should be under some
Concern, lest this hard Student should one time or other
crack his Brain with studying, but that I am in Hopes
Nature has taken Care to fortifie him in Proportion to the
reat Undertakings he was designed for. Another of my
Fellow.Templers, on Thursday last, was getting up into
his Study at the Bottom of Grays/InneLane, in order.
I suppose, to contemplate in the fresh Air. Now, Sir,
my Request is, that the great Modesty of these two
entlemen may be recorded as a Pattern to the rest; and if
you would but give them two or three Touches with your
own Pen, tho' you might not perhaps prevail with them
to desist entirely from their Meditations, yetI doubt not
but you would at least preserve them from being publick
Spectacles
196 THE SPECTATOR
o. 526.
onday,
ov.
712.
I
Spectacles of Folly in our Streets: I say, two or three
Touches with your own Pen; for I have really observed,
Mr. SPEo, that those Spectators which are so prettily
laced down the Sides with little c's, how instructive so!
ever they may be, do not carry with them that Authority
as the others. I do again therefore desire, that, for the
sake of their dear Necks, you would bestow one Penful
of your own Ink upon them. I know you are loth to
expose them; and it is, I must confess, a thousand pities
that any young Gentleman, who is come of honest
Parents, should be brought to publick Shame: And in;
deed I should be glad to have them handled a little
tenderly at the first; but if fair Means will not prevail,
there is then no other Way to reclaim them, but by mak/
ing Use of some wholesome Severities; and I think it
is better that a Dozen or two of such goodwfor/nothing
Fellows should be made Examples of, than that the Rev
putation of some Hundreds of as hopeful young Gentle;
men as my self should suffer thro' their Folly. It
is not, however, for me to direct you what to do; but,
in short, if our Coachmen will drive on this Trade, the
very first of them that I do find meditating in the Street,
I shall make hold to take the Number of his Chambers,
together with a Note of his Name, and dispatch them to
you, that you may chastise him at your own Discretion.
I am, Dear SPEC,
For ever Yours,
Moses Greenbag,
Esq; if you please.
P. S. Tom Hammerclotb, one of our Coachmen, is
now pleading at the Bar at the other End of the Room,
but has a little too much Vehemence, and throws out
léris Arms too much to take his Audience with a good
ace.
To my Loving and Well/beloved John Sly, Haberdasber
of Hats, and Tobacconist, between the Cities of
London and Westminster.
Whereas frequent Disorders, Affronts, Indignities, Omis/
sions, and Trespasses, for which there are no Remedies
by
THE SPECTATOR 197
by any Form of Law, but which apparently disturb and No. 526.
disquiet the Minds of Men, happen near the Place of your Monday.
Residence; and that you are, as well by your commodious 17?; '
Situation as the good Parts with which you are endowed, '
properly qualified for the Observation of the said Offences;
I do hereby authorize and depute you, from the Hours
of Nine in the Morning till four in the Afternoon, to
keep a strict Eye upon all Persons and Things that are
conveyed in Coaches, carried in Carts, or walk on Foot
from the City of London to the City of Westminster. or
from the City of Westminster to the City of London,
within the said Hours. You are therefore not to depart
from your Observatory at the End of DCV€I6UX#COUI‘f
during the said Space of each Day; but to observe the
Behaviour of all Persons who are suddenly transported
from stamping on Pebbles to sit at Ease in Chariots, what
Notice they take of their Foot/Acquaintance, and send
me the speediest Advice, when they are guilty of over.
looking, turning from, or appearing grave and distant to
their old Friends. When Man and Wife are in the same
Coach, you are to see whether they appear pleased or
tired with each other, and whether they carry the due
Mein in the Eye of the World between Fondness and
Coldness. You are carefully to behold all such as shall
have Addition of Honour or Riches, and report whether
they preserve the Countenance they had before such
Addition. As to Persons on Foot, you are to be attentive
whether they are pleased with their Condition, and are
dress'd suitable to it; but especially to distinguish such as
appear discreet, by a low/heeled Shooe, with the decent
Ornament of a Leather/Garter. To write down the
Names of such Country Gentlemen as, upon the Ap/
proach of Peace, have left the Hunting for the Military
Cock of the Hat: Of all who strut, make a Noise, and
swear at the Drivers of Coaches to make Haste, when
they see it impossible they should pass: Of all young
Gentlemen in Coach/Boxes, who labour at a Perfection
in what they are sure to be excelled by the meanest of the
People. You are to do all that in you lies, that Coaches
and Passengers give Way according to the Course of
Business, all the Morning in TermaTime towards West»
minster
198 THE SPECTATOR
OI onday,
0V. 3,
VIZI
minster, the rest of the Year towards the Exchange.
Upon these Directions, together with other secret Articles
herein inclosed, you are to govern your self, and give
Advertisement thereof to me at all convenient and spec/
tatorial Hours when Men of Business are to be seen.
Hereof you are not to fail. Given under my Seal of
Office. The SPECTATOR.
T
NO. Tuesday, November 4.
Facile invenies et periorem et peius moratam, . . .
. . . meliorem neque tu repenes neque sol videt.
—Plautus in Stzcho’
I AM so tender of my Women/Readers, that I cannot
defer the Publication of any thing which concerns
their Happiness or Quiet. The Repose of a married
Woman is consulted in the first of the following Letters,
and the Felicity of a Maiden Lady in the second. I call it
a Felicity to have the Addresses of an agreeable Man; and
I think I have not any where seen a prettier Application
of a Poetical Story than that of his, in making the Tale
of Cephalus and Procris the HistoryaPicture of a Fan
if; so gallant a Manner as he addresses it. But see the
tters.
' Mr. SPECTATOR,
'Tis now almost three Months since I was in Town
about some Business; and the Hurry of it being over,
took Coach one Afternoon, and drove to see a Relation,
who married about six Years ago a wealthy Citizen. I
found her at Home, but her Husband gone to the Ex/
change. and expected back within an Hour at the farthest.
After the usual Salutations of Kindness, and a hundred
Questions about Friends in the Country, we sate down
to Picquet, played two or three Games, and drank Tea. I
should have told you that this was my second Time of
seeing her since her Marriage, but before she lived at
the same Town where I went to School; so that the
Plea of Relation, added to the Innocence of my Youth,
prevailed upon her good Humour to indulge me in a
freedom
THE SPECTATOR 199
freedom of Conversation as often, and oftner, than the No. 527.
strict Discipline of the School would allow of. You may TueSdaYr
easily imagine after such an Acquaintance we might be '
exceeding merry without any Offence, as in calling to '
Mind how many Inventions I had been put to in delud/
ing the Master, how many Hands forged for Excuses,
how many Times been sick in perfect Health; for I was
then never sick but at School, and only then because out
of her Company. We had whiled away three Hours
after this Manner, when I found it past Five; and not
expecting her Husband would return till late, rose up,
told her I should go early next Morning for the Country:
She kindly answered, she was afraid it would be long
before she saw me again; so I took my leave and parted.
Now, Sir, I had not been got home a Fortnight, when I re/
oeived a Letter from a Neighbour of theirs, That ever since
that fatal Afternoon the Lady had been most inhumanly
treated, and the Husband publickly stormed that he was
made a Member of too numerous a Society. He had, it
seems, listened most of the Time my Cousin and I were
together. As jealous Ears always hear double, so he heard
enough to make him mad; and as jealous Eyes always
see thro' Magnifying/Glasses, so he was certain it could
not be I whom he had seen, a beardless Stripli , but
fancied he saw a gay Gentleman of the Temple, ten ears
older than my self, and for that Reason, I presume, durst
not come in, nor take any Notice when I went out. He
is perpetually asking his Wife if she does not think the
Time long (as she said she should) till she sees her Cousin
again. Pray, Sir, what can be done in this Case? I have
writ to him to assure him I was at his House all that
Afternoon expecting to see him: His Answer is, 'tis only
a Trick of hers, and that he neither can nor will believe
me. The parting Kiss I find mightily nettles him, and
confirms him in all his Errors. Ben. [ohnson, as I
remember, makes a Foreigner, in one of his Comedies,
admire the desperate Valour of the bold English, who
let out their IVives to all Encounters. The general
Custom of Salutation should excuse the Favour done me,
or you should lay down Rules when such Distinctions are

to be given or omitted. You cannot imagine, Sir, how
troubled
200 THE SPECTATOR
M. 527.
Tuesday,
NOV: 4!
£712.
troubled I am for this unhappy Lady's Misfortune ;‘ and
beg you would insert this Letter, that the Husband may
reflect upon this Accident coolly. It is no small Matter,
the Base of a virtuous Woman for her whole Life: I
know she will conform to any Regularities (tho' more
strict than the common Rules of our Countrv require) to
which his particular Temper shall incline him to oblige
her. This Accident puts me in Mind how generously
Pisistratus the Athenian Tyrant behaved himself on a like
Occasion, when he was instigated by his Wife to put to
Death a young Gentleman, because, being passionately
fond of his Daughter, he kiss'd her in Publick, as he met
her in the Street; What (said he) shall we do to those
who are our Enemies, if we do thus to those who are our
Friends .7 I will not trouble you much longer, but am
exceedingly concerned lest this Accident may cause a
virtuous Lady to lead a miserable Life with a Husband,
who has no grounds for his Iealousie but what I have
faithfully related, and ought to be reckoned none.
’Tis to be feared too, if at last he sees his Mistake,
yet People will be as slow and unwilling in dis/
believing Scandal as they are quick and forward in
believing it. I shall endeavour to enliven this plain,
honest Letter, with Ovid's Relation about Cybele's
Image. The Ship wherein it was aboard was stranded
at the Mouth of the Tiber, and the Men were unable
to move it, till Claudia, a Virgin, but suspected of
Unchastity, by a slight Pull hawled it in. The Story
is told in the 4th book of the Pasti.
Parent of Gods, began the weeping Fair,
Reward or punish, but oh.I hear my Pray'r.
If Lewdness e'er defil'd my Virgin Bloom,
From Heav’n with justice I receive my Doom!
But if my Honour yet has known no Stain,
Thou, Goddess, thou my Innocence maintain:
Thou, whom the nicest Rules of Goodness sway'd,
Vouchsale to follow an unblemish'd Maid.
She spoke, and touch 'd the Cord with glad Surprize,
(The Truth was witness'd by ten thousand Eyes)
The pitying Goddess easily comply’d.
Pollow’d in Triumph, and adorn 'd her Guide :
While Claudia, blushing still for past Disgrace,
March ’d silent on with a slow solemn Pace : N
01'
THE SPECTATOR 201
Nor yet from some was. all Distrust remov'd, No, 527,
Tho' Heav’n such Virtue by such Wonders prov'd. Tuesday,
I am, Sir, NO“ 4'
Your very humble Servant, 1712'
Philagnotes. '
‘Mr. SPECTATOR,
You will oblige a languishing Lover, if you will please
to print the enclosed Verses in your next Paper. If you
remember the Metamorphosis, you know Procris, the
fond Wife of Cephalus, is said to have made her Husband,
who delighted in the Sports of the Wood, a Present of an
unerring javelin. In Process of Time he was so much
in the Forest, that his Lady suspected he was pursuing
some Nymph, under the Pretence of following a Chace
more innocent. Under this Suspicion she hid her self
among the Trees to observe his Motions. While she
lay concealed, her Husband, tired with the Labour of
Hunting, came within her Hearing. As he was fainting
with Heat, he cryed out, Aura veni ; Oh charming Air
approach.
The unfortunate Wife, taking the Word Air to be the
Name of a Woman, began to move among the Bushes,
and the Husband believing it a Deer, threw his Iavelin
and killed her. This History painted on a Fan, which
I presented to a Lady, gave occasion to my growing
poetical.
Come gentle Air! th' Eolian Shepherd said,
While Procris panted in the secret Shade ;
Come gentle Air! the fairer Delia cries,
While at her Feet her Swain expiring lies.
Lo the glad Gales o'er all her Beauties stray,
Breath on her Lips, and in her Bosom play.
In Delia's Hand this Toy is fatal found,
Nor did that fabled Dart more surely wound.
Both Gifts destructive to the Givers prove,
Alike both Lovers fall by those they love:
Yet guiltless too this bright Destroyer lives,
At Random wounds, nor knows the Wounds she gives I
She views the Story with attentive Eyes,
And pities Procris while her Lover dies.’
. Wednesday
202 THE SPECTATOR
o. 528.
ednes.
3Y1
ov. .
712.
No. 528.
[STEELE] Wednesday, November 5.
Dum potuit, solita gemitum virtute repressitr—Ovid.
' Mr. SPECTAToR.
I WHO now write to you am a Woman' loaded with
Injuries; and the Aggravation of my Misfortune is, that
they are such which are overlooked by the Generality of
Mankind, and tho' the most afflicting imaginable, not
regarded as such in the general Sense of the World. I
have hid my Vexation from all Mankind; but have
now taken Pen, Ink, and Paper, and am resolved to un.
bosome my self to you, and lay before you what grieves
me and all the Sex. You have very often mentioned
particular Hardships done to this or that Lady; but,
methinks, you have not in any one Speculation directly
pointed at the partial Freedom Men take, the unreason.
able Confinement Women are obliged to, in the only
Circumstance in which we are necessarily to have a Com.
merce with them, that of Love. The Case of Celibacy
is the reat Evil of our Nation; and the Indulgence of
the vitious Conduct of Men in that State, with the
Ridicule to which Women are exposed, though never so
virtuous, if long unmarried, is the Root of the greatest
Irregularities of this Nation. To shew you, Sir, that
though you never have given us the Catalogue of a
Lady’s Library as you promised, we read good Books
of our own chusing, I shall insert on this Occasion a
Par ph or two out of Echard’s Roman History. In
the 44th Page of the second Volume the Author ob.
serves, That Augustus, upon his Return to Rome at the
end of a War, received Complaints that too great a
Number of the young men of Quality were unmarried.
The Emperor thereupon assembled the whole Equestrian
Order; and having separated the Married from the Single,
did particular Honours to the former; but he told the
latter, that is to say, Mr. SPECTATOR, he told the Batchelors,
" That their Lives and Actions had been so peculiar,
that he knew not by what Name to call 'em; not by
that of Men, for they performed nothing that was manly;
not by that of Citizens, for the City might perish not.
withstanding
THE SPECTATOR 203
withstanding their Care; nor by that of Romans, for No. 528.
they designed to extirpate the Roman Name." Then wanes”
proceeding to shew his tender Care and hearty Affection 5
for his People, he further told 'em, “ That their Course 1712: '
of Life was of such pernicious Consequence to the Glory
and Grandeur of the Roman Nation, that he could not
chuse but tell ’em, that all other Crimes put together
could not equalize theirs: For they were guilty of
Murder, in not suffering those to be born which should
proceed from them; of Impiety, in causing the Names
and Honours of their Ancestors to cease; and of Sacrilege,
in destroying their Kind, which proceed from the 1m!
mortal Gods, and human Nature, the principal Thing
consecrated to ’em: Therefore, in this Respect they dis/
solved the Government, in disobeying its Laws; betrayed
their Country, by making it barren and waste; nay,
and demolished their City, in depriving it of Inhabitants.
And he was sensible that all this proceeded not from
any kind of Virtue or Abstinence, but from a Looseness
and Wantonness, which ought never to be encourag’d
in any Civil Government." There are no Particulars
dwelt upon that let us into the Conduct of these young
Worthies, whom this great Emperor treated with so much
Justice and Indignation; but any one who observes what
passes in this Town, may very well frame to himself a
Notion of their Riots and Debaucheries all Night, and
their apparent Preparations for them all Day. It is not
to be doubted but these Romans never passed any of their
Time innocently but when they were asleep, and never
slept but when they were weary and heavy with Ex»
cesses, and slept only to prepare themselves for the
Repetition of them. If you did your Duty as a SPECTATOR,
ou would carefully examine into the Number of Births,
arriages, and Burials; and when you had deducted out
of your Deaths all such as went out of the World without
marrying, then cast up the Number of both Sexes born
within such a Term of Years last past, you might from
the single People departed make some useful Inferences
or Guesses how many there are left unmarried, and raise
some useful Scheme for the Amendment of the Age in
that particular. I have not Patience to proceed gravely
on
204' THE SPECTATOR
o. 528. on this abominable Libertinism; for I cannot but reflect,
edfles’ as I am writing to you, upon a certain lascivious Manner
as; 5' which all our young Gentlemen use in Publick, and
712, examine our Eyes with a Petulancy in their own, which
is a downright Affront to Modesty. A disdainful Look on
such an Occasion is returned with a Countenance rebuked
but by averting their Eyes from the Woman of Honour
and Decency to some flippant Creature, who will, as the
Phrase is, be kinder. I must set down things as they
come into my Head, without standing upon Order. Ten
thousand to one but the gay Gentleman who stared at
the same Time is an Housewkeeper; for you must know
they have got into a Humour of late of being very
regular in their Sins, and a young Fellow shall keep'his
four Maids and three Footmen with the greatest Gravity
imaginable. There are no less than six of these vener/
able House/keepers of my Acquaintance. This Humour
among young Men of Condition is imitated 'by all the
World below them, and a general Dissolution of Manners
arises from the one Source of Libertinism without Shame
or Reprehension in the Male Youth. It is from this one
Fountain that so many beautiful helpless young Women
are sacrificed, and given up to Lewdness, Shame, Poverty,
and Disease: It is to this also that so many excellent
young Women, who might be Patterns of conjugal
Affection and Parents of a worthy Race, pine under
unhappy Passions for such as have not Attention enough
to observe, or Virtue enough to prefer them to their
common Wenches. Now, Mr. SPECTATOR, I must be free
to own to you, that I my self suffer a tasteless insipid
Being, from a Consideration I have for a Man who
would not, as he has said in my Hearing, resign his
Liberty, as he calls it, for all the Beauty and Wealth the
whole Sex is possessed of. Such Calamities as these would
not happen, if it could possibly be brought about, that
by fining Batchelors as Papists Convict, or the like, they
were distinguished to their Disadvantage from the rest of
the World, who fall in with the Measures of civil Society.
Lest you should think I speak this as being, according
to the senseless rude Phrase, a malicious old Maid, I
shall acquaint you I am a Woman of Condition not
now
THE SPECTATOR 205
now three and twenty, and have had Proposals from No. 528.
at least ten different Men, and the greater Number of Wednev
them have upon the Upshot refused me. Something 5
or other is always amiss when the Lover takes to some 1712: '
new Wench: A Settlement is easily excepted against;
and there is very little Recourse to avoid the vitious
Part of our Youth, but throwing one's self away upon
some lifeless Blockhead, who though he is without
Vice, is also without Virtue. Now/aadays we must be
contented if we can get Creatures which are not bad;
good are not to be expected. Mr. SPECTATOR, I sate near
you the other Day, and I think I did not displease your
Spectatorial Eye/sight; which I shall be a better Judge
of when I see whether you take Notice of these Evils
your own way, or print this Memorial dictated from
the disdainful heavy Heart of,
Sir, -
Your most Obedient Humble Servant,
T Rachael Welladay.’
No. 529.
[ADDISQNJ ' Thursday, November 6.
Singula quaeque locum teneant sortita decenter.——Hor.
UPON the hearing of several late Disputes concerning
Rank and Precedence, I could not forbear amusing
my self with some Observations, which I have made upon
the Learned World, as to this great Particular. By the
Learned World I here mean at large, all those who are
any way concerned in Works of Literature, whether in
the Writing, Printing or Repeating Part. To begin with
the Writers; I have observed that the Author of a Folio,
in all Companies and Conversations, sets himself above
the Author of a Quarto; the Author of a Quarto above
the Author of an Octavo; and so on, by a gradual Descen
and Subordination, to an Author in Twenty/Fours. T '
Distinction is so well observed, that in an Assembly
the Learned, I have seen a Folio Writer place '
an Elbow/chair, when the Author of a Duo/dec '
out of a iust Deference to his superior Qual'
himself upon a Squabb. In a Word, Authors,


206 THE . SPECTATOR
o. 529. ranged in Company after the same manner as their Works
w'sdav. are upon a Shelf.
7?; The most Minute Pocket/Author hath beneath him
' the Writers of all Pamphlets, or Works that are only
stitched. As for the Pamphleteer, he takes place of
none but of the Authors of single Sheets, and of that
Fraternity who publish their Labours on certain Days,
or on every Day of the Week. I do not find that the
Precedency among the Individuals, in this latter Class
of Writers, is yet settled.
For my own part, I have had so strict a Regard to
the Ceremonial which prevails in the Learned World,
that I never presumed to take Place of a Pamphleteer
till my daily Papers were gathered into those two first
Volumes, which have already appeared. After which, I
naturally jumped over the Heads not only of all Pamphlet/
eers, but of every Octa vo Writer in Great/Britain, that
had written but one Book. I am also informed by my
Bookseller, that six Octavos have at all times been
looked upon as an Equivalent to a Folio, which I take
notice of the rather, because I would not have the
Learned World surprized, if after the Publication of half
a dozen Volumes I take my Place accordingly. When
my scattered Forces are thus rallied, and reduced into
Regular Bodies, I flatter my self that I shall make no
despicable Figure at the Head of them.
Whether these Rules, which have been received time
out of Mind in the Common/Wealth of Letters, were
not originally established with an Eye to our Paper
Manufacture, I shall leave to the Discussion of others,
and shall only remark further in this Place, that all
Printers and Booksellers take the Wall of one another,
according to the abovementioned Merits of the Authors
to whom they respectively belong.
I come now to that Point of Precedency which is
settled among the three Learned Professions, by the
isdom of our Laws. I need not here take Notice of
Rank which is allotted to every Doctor in each of
" rofessions, who are all of them, though not
s Knights, yet a Degree above 'Squires; This
of Men being the illiterate Body of the Nation,
are


THE SPECTATOR 207
are consequently thrown together into a Class below the No. 529.
three Learned Professions. I mention this for the sake Thmdayi
of several Rural 'Squires, whose Reading does not rise 6'
so high as to the present State of England, and who '
are often apt to usurp that Precedency which by the
Laws of their Country is not due to them. Their Want
of Learning, which has planted them in this Station,
may in some measure extenuate their Misdemeanour,
and our Professors ought to pardon them when they
offend in this Particular, considering that they are in
a State of Ignorance, or as we usually say, do not know
their Right Hand from their Left. _
There is another Tribe of Persons who are Retainers to
the Learned World, and who regulate themselves upon all
Occasions by several Laws peculiar to their Body. I mean
the Players or Actors of both Sexes. Among these it is a
standing and uncontroverted Principle, that a Tragedian
always takes Place of a Comedian; and 'tis very well
known the merry Drolls who made us laugh are always
placed at the lower end of the Table, and in every Enter,
tainment give way to the Dignity of the Buskin. It
is a Stage Maxim, Once a King and always a King.
For this Reason it would be thought very absurd in
Mr. Bullock, notwithstanding the Height and Gracequ
ness of his Person, to sit at the Right Hand of an Hero,
though he were but five Foot high. The same Distinc/
tion is observed among the Ladies of the Theatre.
Queens and Heroines preserve their Rank in private
Conversation, while those who are Waiting/Women and
Maids of Honour upon the Stage keep their Distance
also behind the Scenes.
I shall only add, that by a Parity of Reason, all
Writers of Tragedy look upon it as their due to be
seated, served, or saluted before Comick Writers: Those
who deal in Tragi/Comedy usually taking their Seats
between the Authors of either side. There has been
a lo Dispute for Precedency between the Tragick
and eroick Poets. Aristotle would have the latter
yield the Pas to the former, but Mr. Dryden and many
others would never submit to this Decision. Burlesque
Writers pay the same Deference to the Heroick,
as
208 THE SPECTATOR
ov. ,_
.529. as Comic Writers to their Serious Brothers in the
12.
By this short Table of Laws, Order is kept up, and
Distinction preserved in the whole Republick of Letters.
O
No. 530.
[ADDISON]
O
Ehursdav. Drama. e
Friday, November 7.
Sic visum Veneri, cui placet impares-
Formas atque ammos sub juga ahenea
Saevo mittere cum joco.-—Hor.
IT is very usual for those who have been severe upon
Marriage, in some part or other of their Lives to
enter into the Fraternity which they have ridiculed, and
to see their Raillery return upon their own Heads.
I scarce ever knew a Womanahater that did not, sooner
or later, pay for it. Marriage, which is a Blessing to
another Man, falls upon such an one as a Judgment.
Mr. Congreve's Old Batchelor is set forth to us with
much Wit and Humour, as an Example of this kind. In
short, those who have most distinguished themselves
by Railing at the Sex in general, very often make an
honourable Amends, by chusing one of the most worth»
less Persons of it, for a Companion and Yokeafellow."
Hymen takes his Revenge in kind, on those who turn
his Mysteries into Ridicule. ~
My Friend Will. Honeycomb, who was so unmerciftu
witty upon the Women, in a couple of Letters, whichI
lately communicated to the Publick, has given the Ladies
ample Satisfaction by marrying a Farmer's Daughter; a
piece of News which came to our Club by the last Post.
The Templar is very positive that he has married a
Dairyamaid: But Will, in his Letter to me on this
Occasion, sets the best Face upon the- Matter that he
can, and gives a more tollerable account of his Spouse. I
must confess I suspected something more than ordinary,
when upon opening the Letter I found that Will was
fallen off from his former Gayety, having changed Dear
Spec, which was his usual Salute at the Beginning of the
Letter, into My Worthy Friend, and subscribed himself
at the latter End Of it at full length IVilliam Honeycomb.
In short, the gay, the loud, the vain Will Honeyconib,
w o
THE SPECTATOR 209
who had made Love to every great Fortune that has No. 530.
appeared in Town for above thirty Years together, and Friday.
boasted of Favours from Ladies whom he had never ‘ '
seen, is at length wedded to a plain Country Girl. '
His Letter gives us the Picture of a converted Rake.
The sober Character of the Husband is clashed with
the Man of the Town, and enlivened with those little
Cant/phrases which have made my Friend Will often
though very pretty Company. But let us hear what
he says for himself.
‘ My Worthy Friend,
I question not but you, and the rest of my Acquaint/
ance, wonder that I, who have lived in the Smoak and
Gallantries of the Town for thirty Years together, should
all on a sudden grow fond of a Country/life. Had not
my Dog of a Steward run away as he did, without
making up his Accounts, I had still been immersed in
Sin and SeawCoal. But since my late forced Visit to my
Estate, I am so pleased with it, that I am resolved to live
and die upon it. I am every Day abroad among my
Acres, and can scarce forbear filling my Letter with
Breezes, Shades, Flowers, Meadows, and purling Streams.
The Simplicity of Manners, which I have heard you
so often speak of, and which appears here in Perfection,
charms me wonderfully. As an Instance of it, I must
acquaint you, and by your means the whole Club, that
I have lately married one of my Tenant's Daughters.
She is born of honest Parents, and tho' she has no
Portion she has a great deal of Virtue. The natural
Sweetness and Innocence of her Behaviour, the Fresh/
ness of her Complection, the unaffected Turn of her
Shape and Person, shot me through and through every
time I saw her, and did more Execution upon me in
Grogram, than the greatest Beauty in Town or Court
had ever done in Brocade. In short, she is such an o
as promises me a good Heir to my Estate, and if by
means I cannot leave to my Children what are i
called the Gifts of Birth; high Titles and Al
hope to convey to them the more real and v
of Birth; strong Bodies and Healthy Cons'
IV. 0


210 THE SPECTATOR
o. 530. for your fine Women, I need not tell thee that I know.
"53 1 them. I have had my share in their Graces, but no
71);" ' more of that. It shall be my Business hereafter to live
the Life of an honest Man, and to act as becomes the
Master of a Family. I question not but I shall draw
upon me the Raillery of the Town, and be treated to the
Tune of the Marriage/Hater matched; but I am pre/
pared for it. I have been as witty upon others in my
time. To tell thee truly, I saw such a Tribe of
Fashionable young fluttering Coxcombs shot up, that I
did not think my Post of an homme de ruelle any
longer tenable. I felt a certain Stiffness in my Limbs,
which entirely destroyed that Iauntyness of Air I was
once Master of. Besides, for I may now confess my
Age to thee, I have been eight and forty above these
twelve Years. Since my Retirement into the Country
will make a Vacancy in the Club, I could wish you
would fill up my Place with my Friend Tom Dapperwitt.
He has an infinite deal of Fire, and knows the Town.
For my own part, as I have said before, I shall endeavour
to live hereafter suitable to a Man in my Station, as a
prudent Head of a Family, a good Husband, a careful
Father (when it shall so happen), and as
Your most Sincere Friend
0 and Humble Servant,
Wnum HoNBYcoMBJ
N0. 531.
[ADDISON.] Saturday, November 8.
Oui mare 6' terras variisque mundum
Temperat horzs 7
Uncle nil majus generatur ipso,
Nee viget quicquam simzle aut secundum.—Hor.
IMONIDES being asked by Dionysius the Tyrant
what God was, desired a Day’s time to consider of
before he made his Reply. When the Day was
'“ he desired two Days; and afterwards, instead of
his Answer, demanded still double the Time
of it. This great Poet and Philosopher, the
templated the Nature of the Deity, found
that


THE SPECTATOR 211
that he waded but the more out of his Depth; and that No. 531.
he lost himself in the Thought, instead of finding an Saturday.
End of it. 11%; 5'
If we consider the Idea which wise Men, by the Light ’
of Reason, have framed of the Divine Being, it amounts
to this: That he has in him all the Perfection of a
Spiritual Nature; And since we have no Notion of any
kind of Spiritual Perfection but what we discover in our
own Souls, we joyn Infinitude to each kind of these
Perfections, and what is a Faculty in an Human Soul
becomes an Attribute in God. We exist in Place and
Time, the Divine Being fills the Immensity of Space
with his Presence, and Inhabits Eternity. We are
possessed of a little Power and a little Knowledge, the
Divine Being is Almighty and Omniscient. In short,
by adding Infinity to any kind of Perfection we enjoy,
and by ioyning all these different kinds of Perfections
in one Being, we form our Idea of the great Sovereign
of Nature.
Though every one who thinks must have made this
Observation, I shall produce Mr. Lock’s Authority to the
same purpose, out of his Essay on Human Understanding.
‘If we examine the Idea we have of the incomprehensible
supreme Being, we shall find, that we come by it the same
Way; and that the Complex Ideas we have both of God,
and separate Spirits, are made up of the simple Ideas we
receive from Reflection; v. g. having from what we
experiment in our selves, got the Ideas of Existence and
Duration; of Knowledge and Power; of Pleasure and
Happiness; and of several other Qualities and Powers,
which it is better to have, than to be without: When we
would frame an Idea the most suitable we can to the
supreme Being, we enlarge every one of these with our
Idea of Infinity; and so putting them together, make our
complex Idea of God.’
It is not impossible that there may be many kinds of
Spiritual Perfection, besides those which are lodged in an
human Soul; but it is impossible that we should have
Ideas of any kinds of Perfection, except those of'which we
have some small Rays and short imperfect Strokes in
our selves. It would be therefore a very high Ptesump
tion
212 THE SPECTATOR
lo. 531.
tturday
lOVc 8|
(:2.
tion to determine whether the Supream Being has not
many more Attributes than those which enter into our
Conceptions of him. This is certain, that if there be
any kind of Spiritual Perfection which is not marked
out in an human Soul, it belongs in its Fulness, to the
Divine Nature.
Several eminent Philosophers have imagined that the
Soul, in her separate State, may have new Faculties
springing up in her, which she is not capable of exerting
during her present Union with the Body; and whether
these Faculties may not correspond with other attributes
in the Divine Nature, and open to us hereafter new
Matter of Wonder and Adoration, we are altogether
ignorant. This, as I have said before, we ought to
acquiesce in, that the Sovereign Being, the great Author
of Nature, has in him all possible Perfection, as well in
Kind as in Degree; to speak according to our Methods
of conceiving. I shall only add under this Head, that
when we have raised our Notion of this Infinite Being as
high as it is possible for the Mind of Man to go, it will fail
infinitely short of what He really is. There is no end of
his Greatness: The most exalted Creature he has made
is only capable of adoring it, none but himself can
comprehend it. '
The Advice of the Son of Sirach is very just and
sublime in this Light. By his word all things consist.
We may speak, much, and yet come short: wherefore
in sum, he is all. How shall we be able to magnifie
him .7 for he is great above all his Works. The Lord is
terrible and very great ; and marvellous in his power.
When you glorifie the Lord exalt him as much as you
can ; for even yet will he far exceed. And when, you
exalt him put forth all your Strength, and be not
weary , for you can never go far enough. Who hath
seen him, that he might tell us .7 And who can
'magnifie', him as he is .7 There are yet hid greater
things than these be, for we have seen but a few of
his Works.
I have here only considered the Supreme Being by the
Light of Reason and Philosophy. If we would see him-
in all the Wonders of his Mercy, we must have Recourse
to
THE SPECTATOR 213
to Revelation, which represents him to us, not only as N°, 531,
infinitely Great and Glorious, but as infinitely Good and Saturday
just in his Dispensations towards Man. But as this is a 8'
Theory which falls under every one’s Consideration,
though indeed it can never be sufficiently considered, I
shall here only take notice of that habitual Worship
and Veneration which we ought to pay to this Almighty
Being. We» should often refresh our Minds with the
Thought of him, and annihilate our selves before him,
in the Contemplation of our own Worthlessness and of
his transcendent Excellency and Perfection. This would
imprint in our Minds such a constant and uninterrupted
Awe and Veneration , as that which I am here recom/
mending, and which is in reality a kind of incessant
Prayer, and reasonable Humiliation of the Soul before
him who made it.
This would effectually kill in us all the little Seeds of
Pride, Vanity and Selfaconceit, which are apt to shoot up
in the Minds of such whose Thoughts turn more on those
comparative Advantages which they enjoy over some of
their Fellow/Creatures, than on that infinite Distance
which is placed between them and the Supreme Model of
all Perfection. It would likewise quicken our Desires
and Endeavours of uniting our selves to him by all the
Acts of Religion and of Virtue.
Such an habitual Homage to the Supreme Being would,
in a particular manner, banish from among us that pre/
vailing Impiety of using his Name on the most trivial
Occasions.
I find the following Passage in an excellent Sermon,
preached at the Funeral of a Gentleman who was an
Honour to his Country, and a more diligent as well as
successful Enquirer into the Works of Nature, than any
other our Nation has ever produced. ‘He had the pro/
foundest Veneration for the Great God of Heaven and
Earth that I have ever observed in any Person. The very
Name of God was never mentioned by him without a
Pause and a visible Stop in his Discourse, in which one
that knew him most particularly above twenty Y‘ears, has
told me, that he was so exact that he does not remember
to have observed him once to fail in it.’ "
Every
214 THE SPECTATOR
do. 531.
laturday,
ov. 8,
712.
Every one knows the Veneration which was paid by
the jews to a Name so great, wonderful and holy. They
would not let it enter even into their religious Discourses.
What can we then think of those who make use of so
tremendous a Name in the ordinary Expressions of their
Anger, Mirth, and most impertinent Passions? of those
who admit it into the most familiar Questions and Assera
tions, ludicrous Phrases and Works of Humour? not to
mention those who violate it by solemn Perjuries. It
would be an Affront to Reason to endeavour to set forth
the Horror and Prophaneness of such a Practice. The
very Mention of it exposes it sufficiently to those in whom
the Light of Nature, not to say Religion, is not utterly
extinguished. O
No. 532.
[STEELE] Monday, November 10.
Fungar vice cotis, acutum
Reddere quae ferrum valet, exsors ipsa secandir—Hor.
IT is a very honest Action to be studious to produce
other Men’s Merit; and I make no Scruple of saying I
have as much of this Temper as any Man in the World.
It would not be a thing to be bragged of, but that it is
what any Man may be Master of who will take Pains
enough for it. Much Observation of the Unworthiness
in being pained at the Excellence of another, will bring
you to a Scorn of your self for that Unwillingness: And
when you have got so far, you will find it a greater
Pleasure than you ever before knew, to be zealous in
promoting the Fame and Welfare of the Praise/worthy.
I do not speak this as pretending to be a mortified self.
denying Man, but as one who has turned his Ambition
into a right Channel. I claim to my self the Merit
of having extorted excellent Productions from a Person
of the greatest Abilities, who would not have let them
appeared by any other Means; to have animated a
few young Gentlemen into worthy Pursuits, who will
be a Glbry to our Age; and at all Times, and by all
possible Means in my Power, undermined the Interests
of Ignorance, Vice, and Folly, and attempted to substitute

in
THE SPECTATOR 215
in their Stead Learning, Piety, and good Sense. It is from No. 532.
this honest Heart that Ifind my self honoured as a Gentlew Monday.
man/Usher to the Arts and Sciences. Mr. Tickell and '10’
Mr. Pope have, it seems, this Idea of me. The former has '
writ me an excellent Paper of Verses in Praise, forsooth,
of my self; and the other enclosed for my Perusal an
admirable Poem, which, I hope, will shortly see the Light.
In the mean Time I cannot suppress any Thought of his,
but insert his Sentiment about the dying Words of Adrian.
I won't determine in the Case he mentions; but have thus
much to say in favour of his Argument, That many of his
own works which I have seen, convince me that very
pretty and very sublime Sentiments may be lodged in the
same Bosom without Diminution to its Greatness.
‘Mr. SPECTATOR,
I was the other Day in Company with five or six Men
of some Learning; where chancing to mention the famous
Verses which the Emperor Adrian spoke on his Death»
bed, they were all agreed that ’twas a Piece of Gayety
unworthy that Prince in those Circumstances. I could
not but dissent from this Opinion: Methinks it was by
no Means a gay, but a very serious Soliloquy to his Soul
at the Point of its Departure; in which Sense I naturally
took the Verses at my first reading them when I was
very young, and before I knew what Interpretation the
World generally put upon them:
Animula vagula, blandula,
Hospes Comesque co oris,
Quae nunc abibis in Zea l
Pallidula, rigida, nudula,
Nec (ut soles) dabis focal
Alas, my Soul I thou pleasing Companion of this Body,
thou fleeting Thing that art now deserting it! whither
art thou flying l to what unknown Region 3 Thou art
all trembling, fearful. and pensive. Now what is
become of thy former Wit and Humour 7 thou
shalt jest and be gay no more I I confess I cannot
apprehend where lies the Trifling in all this; ’tis the
most natural and obvious Reflection imaginable to a dying
Man; and if we consider the Emperor was a Heathen,
that
216 THE SPECTATOR
lo. 532.
llonday,
IOV! 101
712.
that Doubt concerning the future Fate of his Soul will
seem so far from being the Effect of want of Thought,
that 'twas scarce reasonable he should think otherwise;
not to mention that here is a plain Confession included
of his Belief in its Immortality. The diminutive Epithets
of Vagula, Blandula, and the rest, appear not to me as
Expressions of Levity, but rather of Endearment and
Concern; such as we find in Ca tullus, and the Authors
of Hendeca/syllabi after him, where they are used to
express the utmost Love and Tenderness for their
Mistresses~——— If you think me right in my Notion of
the last Words of Adrian, be pleased to insert this in the
Spectator; if not, to suppress it.
I am, fic.’
‘To the supposed Author of the Spectator.
In Courts licentious, and a shameless Stage,
How long the War shall IVit with Virtue wage I
Enchanted by this prostituted Fair,
Our Youth run headlong in the fatal Snare :
In height of Rapture clasp unheeded Pains,
And suck Pollution through their tingling Veins.
Thyhspotless Thoughts unshock'd the Priest may
631',
And the pure Vestal in her Bosom wear.
To conscious Blushes, and diminish 'd Pride,
Thy Glass betrays what treach 'rous Love would hide;
Nor harsh thy Precepts, but infus'd by Stealth,
Please while they cure, and cheat us into Health.
Thy Works in Chloe's Toilet gain a Part,
And with his Tailor share the Fopling's Heart:
Lash'd in thy Satyr, the penurious Cit
Laughs at himself} and finds no Harm in W'it:
From Felon Gamesters the raw Squire is free,
And Britain owes her rescued Oaks to thee.
His Miss the frolick Viscount dreads to toast,
Or his third Cure the shallow Templar boast;
And the rash Fool, who scorn’d the beaten Road,
Dares quake at Th under, and confess his God.
The
THE SPECTATOR 217
The brainless Stripling, who, expell'd to Town, No. 532.
Damn’d the stiff College and pedantick Gown, dea‘)’.
Aw’d by thy Name, is dumb, and thrice a Week 10'
Spells uncouth Latin, and pretends to Greek. '
A sa untring Tribe! such born to wide Estates,
W'ith Yea and No in Senates hold Debates :
At length despis'd, each to his Fields retires,
First with the Dogs, and King amidst the Squires ,:
From Pert to Stupid sinks supinely down,
In Youth a Coxcomb, and in Age a Clown.
Such Readers scorn’d, thou wing'st thy daring Plight
Above the Stars, and tread’st the Fields of Light .-
Fame, Hea v'n, and Hell, are thy exalted Theme,
And Visions such as Jove himself might dream 1
Man sunk to Slav'ry, tho' to Glory born,
Heav’n's Pride when upright, and deprav’d his Scorn.
Such Hints alone could British Virgil lend,
And. Thou alone deserve from such a Friend I
A Debt, so borrow'd, is illustrious Shame,
And Fame when shar'd with him is double Fame.
So flush'd with Sweets, by Beauty’s Queen bestow’d,
With more than mortal Charms lEneas glo w’d.
Such gen’rous Strifes Eugene and Marlbro’ try,
And as in Glory, so in Friendship vie.
Permit these Lines by Thee to live—nor blame
A Muse that pants and languishes for Fame ;
That fears to sink when humbler Themes she sings,
Lost in the Mass of mean forgotten Things.
Receiv'd by Thee, I prophesie my Rhymes
The Praise of Virgins in succeeding Times;
Mix'd with thy Works, their Life no Bounds shall see,
But stand protected, as inspir'd by Thee.
So some weal: Shoot. which else would poorly rise,
Jove’s Tree adopts, and lifts him to the Skies ;
Through the new Pupil fost'ring juices flow,
Thrust forth the Gems, and give the Flow'rs to blow
Aloft ; immortal reigns the Plant unknown,
With borrow’d Life, and Vigour not his own.’
‘To
218 THE SPECTATOR
JO: llonday,
JOV: 100
712.
‘ To the SPECTATORPGENERAIJ
Mr. John Sly humbly sheweth,
That upon reading the Deputation given to the said
Mr. john Sly, all Persons passing by his Observatory
behaved themselves with the same Decorum, as if your
Honour your self had been present.
That your said Officer is preparing, according to your
Honour's secret Instructions, Hats for the several kind
of Heads that make Figures in the Realms of Great
Britain, with Cocks significant of their Powers and
Faculties.
That your said Officer has taken due Notice of your
Instructions and Admonitions concerning the Internals of
the Head from the outward Form of the same. His Hats
for Men of the Faculties of Law and Physick do but iust
turn up, to give a little Life to their Sagacity; his Military
Hats glare full in the Face; and he has prepared a
familiar easie Cock for all good Companions between the
abovementioned Extreams. For this End he has con/
sulted the most Learned of his Acquaintance for the true
Form and Dimensions of the Lepidum Caput, and made
a Hat fit for it.
Your said Officer does further represent, That the
young Divines about Town are many of them got into
the Cock Military, and desires your Instructions therein.
That the Town has been for several Days very well
behaved; and further your said Officer saith not.’
No. 533.
[STEELE]
Immo duas dabo, inquit ille, una si parum est:
E't si duarum poenitebit, addentur duaer—Plaut.
Tuesday, November 11.
‘ To the SPECTAToR.
Sir,
OU have often given us very excellent? Discourses
against that unnatural Custom of Parents, in forcing
their Children to marry contrary to their Inclinations.
My own Case, without further Preface, I will lay before
you, and leave you to fudge of it. My Father and
‘Mother
\
THE SPECTATOR 219
Mother, both being in declining Years, would fain see No. 533.
me, their eldest Son, as they call it, settled. I am as T065587;
much for that as they can be; but I must be settled, it '
seems, not according to my own, but their Liking. '
Upon this Account I am teiz'd every Day, because I have
not yet fallen in Love, in spite of Nature, with one of a
neighbouring Gentleman’s Daughters; for, out of their
abundant Generosity, the give me the Choice of Four.
jack, begins my Father, s. Katherine is a fine Woman
Yes, Sir; but she is rather too old She will make
the more discreet Manager, Boy. Then my Mother plays
her Part. Is not Mrs. Betty exceeding fair? Yes, Madam;
but she is of no Conversation; she has no Fire, no agree/
ble Vivacity; she neither speaks nor looks with Spirit.
lrue, son; but for those very Reasons she will be an
easie, soft, obliging, tractable Creature. After all, cries
an old Aunt, (who belongs to the Class of those who read
Plays with Spectacles on) what think you, Nephew, of
proper Mrs. Dorothy? What do I think? Why I think
she cannot be above six Foot two Inches high. Well,
well, you may banter as long as you please, but Height
of Stature is commanding and majestick. Come, come,
says a Cousin of mine in the Family, I’ll fit him: Fidelia
is yet behind Pretty Miss Fiddy must please you
Oh! your very humble Servant, dear Cos, she is as much
too young as her eldest Sister is too old. Is it so indeed,
quoth she, good Mr. Pert? You who are but barely turned
of twenty two, and Miss Fiddy in half a Year's Time will
be in her Teens, and she is capable of learning any
Thing. Then she will be so observant; she '11 cry per/
haps now and then, but never be angry. Thus they will
think for me in this Matter, wherein I am more parti/
cularly concerned than any Body else. If I name any
Woman in the World, one of these Daughters has cer/
tainly the same Qualities. You see by these few hints,
Mr. SPECTATOR, what a comfortable Life I lead. To be still
more open and free with you, I have been passionately
fond of a young Lady (whom give me leave to call
Miranda) now for these three Years. I have often urged
the Matter home to my Parents with all the Submission
of a Son, but the Impatience of ‘2. I over. Pray, Sir, o




220 THE SPECTATOR
No. 533.
Tuesday,
Nov. 11,
1712.
of three Years; what inexpressible Scenes of Inquietude,
what Variety of Misery must I have gone through in
three long whole Years? Miranda's Fortune is equal
to those I have mentioned; but her Relations are not
Intimates with mine. Ah! there's the Rub. Miranda's
Person, Wit, and Humour, are what the nicest Fancy could
imagine; and though we know you to be so Elegant a
Judge of Beauty, yet there is none among all your various
Characters of fine Women preferable to Miranda. In a
Word, she is never guilty of doing any thing but one
amiss (if she can be thought to do amiss by me), in being
as blind to my Faults, as she is to her own Perfections.
I am, Sir,
Your very Humble Obedient Servant,
Dustererastus.’
‘ Mr. SPECTATOR,
When you spent so much Time as you did lately
in censuring the ambitious young Gentlemen who
ride in Triumph through Town and Country in Coach/
boxes, I wished you had employed those Moments in
Consideration of what passes sometimes within Side of
those Vehicles. I am sure I suffered sufficiently by the
Insolence and ill Breeding of some Persons who travelled
lately with me in a Stage/Coach out of Essex to London.
I am sure, when you have heard what I have to say,
you will think there are Persons under the Character
of Gentlemen that are fit to be no where else but in the
Coach/box. Sir, I am a young Woman of a sober and
religious Education, and have preserved that Character,
but on Monday was Fortnight it was my Misfortune to
come to London. I was no sooner clapt in the Coach,
but, to my great Surprize, two Persons in the Habit of
Gentlemen attack'd me with such indecent Discourse
as I cannot repeat to you, so you may conclude not fit
for me to hear. I had no Relief but the Hopes of a
speedy End of my short journey. Sir, form to your
self what a Persecution this must needs be to a virtuous
and a chast Mind; and in. order to your proper handling
such a Subject, fancy; your Wife or Daughter, if
a
THE SPECTATOR 221
had any, in such Circumstances, and what Treatment No. 533.
you would think then due to such Dragoons. One of Tuesday.
them was called a Captain, and entertained us with gig-11'
nothing but silly stupid Questions, or lewd Songs, all '
the Way. Ready to burst with Shame and Indignation,
I repined that Nature had not allowed us as easily to
shut our Ears as our Eyes. But was not this a kind of
Rape? Why should there be Accessaries in Ravishment
any more than Murther? Why should not every Con/
tributor to the Abuse of Chastity suffer Death? I am
sure these shameless Hell/Hounds deserved it highly.
Can you exert your self better than on such an Occasion?
If you do not do it effectually, I’ll read no more of your
Papers. Has every impertinent Fellow a Privilege to
torment me, who pay my Coachwhire as well as he?
Sir, pray consider us in this Respect as the weakest Sex,
and have nothing to defend our selves; and I think it
is as Gentleman/like to challenge a Woman to fight, as
to talk obscenely in her Company, especially when she
has not Power to stir. Pray let me tell you a Story
which you can make fit for publick View. I knew a
Gentleman, who having a very good Opinion of the
Gentlemen of the Army, invited ten or twelve of them
to sup with him; and at the same Time invited two
or three Friends, who were very severe against the
Manners and Morals of Gentlemen of that Profession.
It happened one of them brought two Captains of his
Regiment newly come into the Army, who at first
Onset engaged the Company with very lewd Healths and
suitable Discourse. You may easily imagine the Confu/
sion of the Entertainer, who finding some of his Friends
very uneasie, desired to tell them a Story of a great
Man, one. Mr Lock, (whom I find you frequently mention)
That being invited to dine with the then Lords Hallifax,
Anglisey, and Shaftsbury, immediately after Dinner, in/
stead of Conversation, the Cards were immediately called
for, where the bad or good Success produced the usual
Passions of Gaming. Mr. Lock, retiring to a Window, and
writing, my Lord Anglisey desired to know what he was
writing: Why, my Lords, answered he, I could not s1 e
last Night for the Pleasure and Im prov


222 THE SPECTATOR
No, 533.
Tuesday,
Nov ll
1712:


from the Conversation of the greatest Men of the Age.
This so sensibly stung them, that they gladly compounded
to throw their Cards in the Fire if he would his Paper,
and so a Conversation ensued fit for such Persons. This
Story prest so hard upon the young Captains, together
with the Concurrence of their superior Officers, that the
young Fellows left the Company in Confusion, Sir, I
know you hate long things; but if you like it, you may
contract it, or how you will; but I think it has a Moral
in it.
But, Sir, I am told you are a famous Mechanick as
well as a Looker/on, and therefore humbly propose
you would invent some Padlock, with full Power under
your Hand and Seal, for all modest Persons, either Men
or Women, to clap upon the Mouths of all such imper/
tinent impudent Fellows: And I wish you would publish
a Proclamation, that no modest Person who has a Value
for her Countenance, and consequently would not be
put out of it, presume to travel after such a Day without
one of them in their Pockets, I fancy a smart Spectator
upon this Subject would serve for such a Padlock; and
that publick Notice may be given in your Paper where
they may be had, with Directions, Price 2d, and that
Part of the Directions may be, when any Person presumes
to be guilty of the abovementioned Crime, the Party
aggrieved may produce it to his Face, with a Request
to read it to the Company: He must be very much
hardened that could out/face that Rebuke; and his further
Punishment I leave you to prescribe.
Your humble Servant,
T Penance CrueL'
No. 534,
[STEELE] Wednesday, November 12.
Rams enim fer-me sensus commum's in {Ila
Fortuna.—]uv.
’ Mr. SPECTATOR,
AM a young Woman of Nineteen, the only Daughter
of very wealthy Parents; and have my whole Life been
erness which did me no great Service
in
THE SPECTATOR 223
in my Education. I have, perhaps, an uncommon 'Desire No. 534.
for Knowledge of what is suitable to my Sex and Quality; Wednes.
but, as far as I can remember, the whole Dispute about 5&3" 12
me has been, whether such a thing was proper for the 173' ’
Child to do, or not? or whether such or such Food
was the more wholsome for the young Lady to eat?
This was ill for my Shape, that for y Complection, and
t’ other for my Eyes. lam not e_ vagant, when I tell
you I do not know that I have trod upon the very Earth
since I was ten Years old: A Coach or Chair I am
obliged to for all my Motions from one Place to another
ever since I can remember. All who had to do to instruct
me, have ever been bringing Stories of the notable Things
I have said, and the Womanly Manner of my behaving
my self upon such and such an Occasion. This has been
my State till I came towards Years of Womanhood; and
ever since I grew towards the Age of Fifteen, I have
been abused after another Manner. Now, forsooth,I am
so killing no one can safely speak to me. Our House is
frequented by Men of Sense, and I love to ask Questions
when I fall into such Conversation, but I am cut short
with something or other about my bright Eyes. There
is, Sir, a Language particular for talking to Women in;
and none but those of the very first good Breeding (who
are very few, and who seldom come into my way) can
speak - to us without regard to our Sex. Among the
Generality of those they call Gentlemen, it is impossible
for me to speak upon any Subiect whatsoever, without
provoking Somebody to say, Oh I to be sure fine Mrs.
such a one must be very particularly acquainted with
all that; all the World will contribute to her En tertain.
ment and Information. Thus, Sir, I am so handsome,
that I murther all who approach me; so wise, that I want
no new Notices; and so well bred, that I am treated by all
that know me like a Fool, for no one will answer as if I
were their Friend or Companion. Pray, Sir, be pleased to
take the Part of us Beauties and Fortunes into your Con.
sideration, and do not’let us be thus flattered out of our
Senses. -I have got an Hussey of -a Maid, who is most
craftin given to this ill Quality. I was at first diverted
with a certain Absurdity the Creature was guilty of in
OVGI‘Y
224 THE SPECTATOR
every thing she said. She is a Country Girl, and in the
Dialect of the Shire she was born in, would tell me that
every Body reckoned her Lady had the purest Red and
White in the World. Then she would tell me I was the
most like one Sisi’y Dobson in their Town, who made the
Miller make away with himself, and walk afterwards in
the Corn/field wher they used to meet. With all this,
this cunning Hussey lay Letters in my Way, and put
a Billet in my Gloves, and then stand in it she knows
nothing of it. I do not know, from my Birth to this Day,
that I have been ever treated b any one as I ought;
and if it were not for a few Boo which I delight in,I
should be at this Hour a Novice to all common Sense.
Would it not be worth your while to lay down Rules for
Behaviour in this Case, and tell People that we fair ones
expect honest plain Answers as well as other People?
Why must I, good Sir, because I have a ood Air, a fine
Complection, and am in the Bloom of my ears, be misled
in all my Actions? and have the Notions of Good and Ill
confounded in my Mind, for no other Offence but because
I have the Advantages of Beauty and Fortune 1 Indeed, Sir,
what with the silly Homage which is paid to us by the sort
of People I have above spoken of, and the utter Negligence
which others have for us, the Conversation of us young
Women of Condition is no other than what must expose
us to Ignorance and Vanity, if not Vice. All this is humbly
submitted to your Spelsctatorial Wisdom by,
1!

'Your humble Servant,
Sharlot Wealthy.’
‘Mr. SPscrAToR, Will’s Coffee/ho use.
Pray, Sir, it will serve to fill up a Paper, if you put in
this; which is only to ask whether that Copy of Verses,
which is a Paraphrase of Isaiah, in one of your Specular
tions, is not written by Mr. Pope? Then you get on
another Line, by putting in, with proper Distances, as at
the End of a Letter.
I am, Sir,
Your humble Servant,
Abraham Dapperwit.’
’Mr.
THE SPECTATOR 225
‘Mr. Dapperwit, No. 534.
I am glad to get another Line forward, by saying that Wednes/
excellent Piece is Mr. Pope's; and so, with proper Nag;
Distances, 1712} '
I am, Sir,
Your humble Servant.
S—r.’
‘Mr. SrscrAToR,
I was a wealthy Grocer in the City, and as fortunate
as diligent; but I was a single Man, and you know there
are Women. One in particular came to my Shop, who
I wished might, but was afraid never would, make a
Grocer's Wife. I thought, however, to take an effectual
Way of Courting, and sold to her at less Price than I bought,
that Imight buy at less Price than I sold. She, you may
be sure, often came, and helped me to many Customers
at the same Rate, fancying I was obliged to her. You
must needs think this was a good living Trade, and
my Riches must be vastly improved. In fine, I was nigh
being declared Bankrupt, when I declared myself her
Lover, and she her self married. I was just in a Condi/
tion to support my self, and am now in Hopes of growing
Rich by losing my Customers.
Yours,
Ieremy Comfitt.
‘ Mr. SPECTATQR,
I am in the Condition of the Idol you was once pleased
to mention, and Bar/keeper of a Coffee/house. I believe
it is needless to tell you the Opportunities I must give, and
the Importunities I suffer. But there is one Gentleman
who besieges me as close as the French did Bouchain.
His Gravity makes him work cautious, and his regular
Approaches denote a good Engineer. You need not doubt
of his Oratory, as he is a Lawyer; and especially since
he has had so little Use of it at Westminster, he may
spare the more for me.
What then can weak Woman do? I am willing to
surrender, but he would have it at Discretion, and I with
Discretion. In the mean Time, whilst we parly, our
IV. P several
226 THE SPECTATOR
9. 534. several Interests are neglected. As his Siege grows
“be” stronger, my tea grows weaker; and while he pleads at
Z; 12 my Bar, none come to him for Counsel but in Forma
12, ' Pa uperis. Dear Mr. SPECTATOR, advise him not to insist
upon hard Articles, nor by his irregular Desires con/
tradict the well/meaning Lines of his Countenance. If
we were agreed, we might settle to something, as soon
as we could determine where we should get most, by
the Law, at the Coffee/house, or at Westminster.
Your humble Servant,
Lucinda Parly.’
‘ A Minuit from Mr. john Sly.

The World is pretty regular for about for Rod East,
and ten West of the Observatory of the said . Sly; but
he is credibly informed, that when they are got beyond
the Pass into the Strand, or those who move Cityaward
are got within Temple/Bar, they are just as they were
before. It is therefore humbly proposed, that Moving/
Centries may be appointed all the busie Hours of the Day
between the Exchange and Westminster, and report
what passes to your Honour, or your subordinate Officers,
from Time to Time,I
Ordered,
That Mr. Sly name the said Officers, provided he will
answer for their Principles and Morals. T
No. 535.
[ADDISONJ Thursday, November 13.
Spem longam reseces——-.—Hor.
Y Four hundred and seventy first Speculation
M turned upon the Subject of Hope in general. I
design this Paper as a Speculation upon that vain and fool;
ish Hope, which is misemployed on Temporal Objects, and
produces many Sorrows and Calamities in Human Life.
It is a Precept several times inculcated by Horace, that
we should not entertain an Hope of any thing in Life
which lies at a great Distance from us: The Shortness
and Uncertainty of our Time here makes such a Kind
of Hope unreasonable and absurd. The Grave lies um
seen
THE SPECTATOR 227
seen between us and the Object Will-1 we reach after, NO, 535,
Where one Man lives to enjoy the Got he has in View, Thursday,
ten thousand are cut off in the PUI‘SUi‘nf it, NOW 13.
It happens likewise unluckily, that me Hope no 1712'
sooner dies in us, but another rises up in; stead, We
are apt to fancy that we shall be happy at satisfied if
we possess our selves of such and such partiéar Baby,
ments; but either by Reason of their Emptyng, or the
natural Inquietude of the Mind, we have nemnfl.
ained one Point but we extend our Hopes to amber,
We still find new inviting Scenes and Landskips ing
behind those which at a Distance terminated aura-w,
The natural Consequences of such Reflectionsuye
these; that we should take Care (not to let our Hes
run out into too great a Length; that we should su'.
ciently weigh the Objects of our Hope, whether they at
such as we may reasonably expect from them what
we propose in their Fruition, and whether they are
such as we are pretty sure of attaining, in case our Life
extend itself so far. If we hope for things which are
at too great a Distance from us, it is possible that we
may be intercepted by Death in our Progress towards
them. If we hope for things of which we have not
thoroughly considered the Value, our Disappointment will
be greater than our Pleasure in the Fruition of them.
If we hope for what we are not likely to possess, we
act and think in vain, and make Life a greater Dream
and Shadow than it really is. _
Many of the Miseries and Misfortunes of Life proceed
from our want of Consideration, in one or all of these
Particulars. They are the Rocks on which the sanguine
Tribe of Lovers daily split, and on which the Bankrupt,
the Politician, the Alch mist and Projector are cast away
in every Age. Men of, warm Imaginations and towring
Thoughts are apt to overwlook the Goods of Fortune which
are near them, for something that glitters in the Sight
at a Distance; to neglect solid and substantial Happiness,
for what is showy and superficial; and to contemn that
Good which lies within their reach, for that which they
are not capable of attaining. Hope calculates its Schemes
for a long and durable Life; presses forward to ima$jnary
oints
'228 TH? SPECTATOR
No, 535, Points 9! Bliss, d grasps at Impossibilities: and con"
Thursday, sequgnflv very an ensnares Men into Beggary, Ruin
NOV. 13!
and Dishonour. '
What 1 havnere said may serve as a Moral to an
Arabian Fabt which I find translated into French by
Monsieur gland. The Fable has in it such a wild,
but namralimplicity, that I question not but my Reader
will be amuch pleased with it as I have been, and that
he will insider himself, if he reflects on the several
Amusaents of Hope which have sometimes passed in
his Md, as a near Relation to the Persian Glass/Man.
Alaschar, says the Fable, was a very idle Fellow,
;never would set his Hand to any Business during
h! Father’s Life. When his Father died he left him
I the value of an hundred Drachmas in Persian Mony.
Alnaschar, in order to make the best of it, laid it out in
Glasses, Bottles, and the finest Earthen Ware. These
he piled up in a large open Basket, and having made
choice of a very little Shop placed the Basket at his Feet,
and leaned his Back upon the Wall, in Expectation of
Customers. As he sate in this Posture with his Eyes
upon the Basket, he fell into a most amusi Train of
Thought, and was over/heard by one of hisrfieighbours,
as he talked to himself in the following manner. This
Basket, says he, cost me at the Wholesale Merchan t's
an Hundred Drachmas, which is all I have in the
World. I shall quickly make two hundred of it, by
selling it in Retail. These two hundred Drachmas will
in a very little while rise to {our Hundred, which of
course will amount in time to {our Thousand. Four
Thousand Drachmas cannot fail of making Eight Thom
sand. As soon as by this means I am Master of Ten
Thousand, I will lay aside my Trade of a Glass/man
and turn jeweller. I shall then deal in Diamonds,
Pearls and all sorts of rich Stones. When I have got
together as much Wealth as I can well desire, I will
make a Purchase of the finest House I can find, with
Lands, Slaves, Fun uchs and Horses. I shall then begin
to enjoy my self} and make a noise in the World. I will
not, however, stop there, but still continue my Traffick till
I have got together an Hundred Thousand Dragl‘zvngas.
en

THE SPECTATOR ‘ 229
When I have thus made my self Master of an hundred No- 535.
thousand Drachmas, I shall naturally set my self on Thurs“!
the foot of a Prince, and will demand the Grand Visier's '13'
Daughter in Marriage, after having represented to '
that Minister the Information which I have received
of the Beauty, IVit, Discretion, and other high Qualities
which his Daughter possesses, I will let him know, at
the same time, that it is my Intention to make him a
Present of a Thousand Pieces of Gold on our Marriage
Night, As soon as I have married the Grand Visier's
Daughter, I '11 buy her ten black Eunuchs, the youngest
and best that can be got for Many, I must afterwards
make my Father/in/Law a Visit with a great Train
and Equipage, And when I am placed at his Right
Hand, which he will do of Course, if it be only to
Honour his Daughter, I will give him the thousand
Pieces of Gold which I promised him, and afterwards,
to his great Surprise, will present him another Purse
of the same Value, with some short Speech, as, Sir,
you see I am a Man of my Word, I always give more
than I promise,
When I have brought the Princess to my House, I
shall take particular care to breed in her a due Respect
for me, before I give the Reins to Love and Dalliance,
To this end I shall confine her to her own Apartment,
make her a short Visit, and talk but little to her, Her
Women will represent to me that she is inconsolable
by Reason of my Unkindness, and beg me with Tears
to caress her, and let her sit down by me; but] shall
still remain inexorable, and will turn my Back upon
her all the first Night, Her Mother will then come
and bring her Daughter to me, as I am seated upon
my Sofa, The Daughter, with Tears in her Eyes, will
fling her self at my Feet, and beg of me to receive
her into my Favour: Then will I, to imprint in her
a thorough Veneration for my Person, draw up my
Legs and spurn her from me with my Foot, in such
a manner that she shall fall down several Paces from
the Sofa,
Alnaschar was entirely swallowed up in this chimerical
Vision, and could not forbear acting with his Foot wlrfilt
e
230 THE SPECTATOR
535. he had in his Thoughts: So that unluckily striking his
1
figs)" Basket of Brittle Ware, which was the Foundation of all
his Grandeur, he kicked his Glasses to a great distance
from him into the Street, and broke them into ten
thousand Pieces. O
NO. [ADDISQNJ Friday, November 14.
O verae Phrygiae, neque enim Phryges I——.——Virg.
AS I was the other Day standing in my Bookseller’s
Shop, a pretty young Thing about Eighteen Years
of Age, stept out of her Coach, and brushing by me,
beck’ned the Man of the Shop to the further End of his
Counter, where she whispered something to him with
an attentive Look, and at the same time presented him
with a Letter: After which pressing the End of her
Fan upon his Hand, she delivered the remaining Part
of her Message, and withdrew. I observed, in the midst
of her Discourse, that she flushed, and cast an Eye upon
me over her Shoulder, having been informed, by my
Bookseller, that I was the Man of the short Face whom
she had so often read of. Upon her passing by me, the
pretty blooming Creature smiled in my Face, and dropped
me a Curtsie. She scarce gave me time to return her
Salute, before she quitted the Shop with an easie Scuttle,
and stepped again into her Coach, giving the Footman
Directions to drive where they were bid. Upon her
Departure my Bookseller gave me a Letter, superscribed
To the ingenious Spectator, which the young Lady had
desired him to deliver into my own Hands, and to
tell me that the speedy Publication of it would not only
oblige her self, but a whole Tea/Table of my Friends.
I opened it therefore, with a Resolution to Publish it
whatever it should contain, and am sure, if any of my
Male Readers will be so severely critical as not to like
it, they would have been as well pleased with it as my
self, had they seen the Face of the pretty Scribe.

‘Mr. SPECTATOR, London, Nov. 1712.
You are always ready to receive any useful Hint or
Proposal
THE SPECTATOR 231
Proposal, and such, I believe, you will think one that No. 536
may put you in a way to employ the most idle Part Friday,
of the Kingdom; I mean that Part of Mankind who are N°"‘ 4
known by the Name of the Women’s/Men, or Beaus, fic. 1712'
Mr. SPECTATOR, you are sensible these pretty Gentlemen
are not made for any Manly Imployments, and for
want of Business are often as much in the Vapours as
the Ladies. Now what I propose is this, that since
Knotting is again in Fashion, which has been found a
very pretty Amusement, that you would recommend
it to these Gentlemen as something that may make
them useful to the Ladies they admire, And since ’tis
not inconsistent with an Game, or other Diversion, for
it may be done in the lay/House, in their Coaches, at
the TeawTable, and, in short, in all Places where they
come for the sake of the Ladies (except at Church, be
pleased to forbid it there to prevent Mistakes) it will
be easily complyed with. 'Tis beside an Imployment
that allows, as we see by the fair Sex,‘ of many Graces,
which will make the Beaus more readily come into it;
it shews a white Hand and Diamond Ring to great
Advantage; it leaves the Eyes at full Liberty to be
employed as before, as also the Thoughts, and the
Tongue, In short, it seems in every Respect so proper,
that 'tis needless to urge it further, by speaking of the
Satisfaction these Male Knotters will find, when they
see their Work mix'd up in a Fringe, and worn by
the Fair Lady for whom and with whom it was done.
Truly, Mr. SPscrAToR, I cannot but be pleased I have hit
upon something that these Gentlemen are capable of;
for 'tis sad so considerable a Part of the Kingdom, (I
mean for Numbers) should be of no manner of use.
shall not trouble you farther at this time, but only to
say, that I am always your Reader, and generally your
Admirer, C B
BS. The sooner these fine Gentlemen are set to
Work the better, there being at this time several fine
Fringes that stay only for more Hands}
I shall,-- in the next Place, present my Reader with the
Description
232 THE SPECTATOR
ilok 536.
r1 an,
lov.
712.
Description of a Sett of Men who are common enough
in the World, tho’ I do not remember that I have yet
{airen notice of them, as they are drawn in the following
tter.
‘ Mr. SPBcrAToR,

Since you have lately, to so good Purpose, enlarged
upon Conjugal Love, it's to be hoped you'll discourage
every Practice that rather proceeds from a Regard to
Interest than to Happiness. Now you cannot but
observe, that most of our fine young Ladies readily
fall in with the Direction of the Graver sort, to retain
in their Service, by some small Encouragement, as
reat a Number as they can of supernumerary and
insignificant Fellows, which they use like Whiflers,
and commonly call Shoeing/Horns. These are never
designed to know the length of the Foot, but only
when a good Ofier comes to whet and spur him up
to the Point. Nay ’tis the Opinion of that grave Lady,
Madam Match well, that it’s absolutely convenient for
every prudent Family to have several of these Imple/
ments about the House, to clap on as occasion serves,
and that every Spark ought to produce a Certificate of
his being a Shoeing/Horn, before he be admitted as a
Shoe. A certain Lady, whom I could name, if it was
necessary, has at present more Shoeing/Horns of all
Sizes, Countries, and Colours, in her Service, than ever
she had new Shoes in her Life. I have known a
Woman make use of a Shoeing/Horn for several Years,
and finding him unsuccessful in that Function, cone
vert him at length into a Shoe. I am mistaken if
your Friend, Mr. WILLIAM HONYCOMBE, was not a cast
Shoeing/Horn before his late Marriage. As for my
self, I must frankly declare to you, that I have been
an arrant Shoeinngorn for above these Twenty Years.
I served my first Mistress in that Capacity above Five
of the Number before she was Shod. I confess, though
she had many who made their Applications to her, I
always thought my self the best Shoe in her Shop,
and it was not till a Month before her Marriage that
I discovered what I was. This had like to have broke
my
THE SPECTATOR 233
my Heart, and raised such Suspicions in me, that INo. 536.
told the next I made Love to, upon receiving some Fridan
unkind Usage fi'om her, that I began to look upon my 11%;; '
self as no more than her ShoeingaHorn. Upon which, '
my Dear, who was a Coquet in her Nature, told me
I was Hypochondriacal, and that I might as well look
upon my self to be an Egg or a Pipkin. But in a very
short time after she gave me to know that I was not
mistaken in my self. It would be tedious to recount
to you the Life of an unfortunate Shoeing/Horn, or
I might entertain you with a very long and melam
choly Relation of my Sufferings. Upon the whole, I
think, Sir, it would very well become a Man in your
Post, to determine in what Cases a Woman may be
allowed, with Honour, to make use of a Shoeing/Horn,
as also to declare whether a Maid on this side Five and
Twenty, or a Widow who has not been Three Years
in that State, may be granted such a Privilege, with
other Difficulties which will naturally occur to you
upon that Subject.
I am, Sir,
O IVith the most profound Veneration,
Your, file."
No. 537.
[HUGHESJ Saturday, November 15.
Tot“: ydp Kai ye'vos io'pe'vr—Arat.
‘Te the SPECTAToR.
Sir,
T has been usual to remind Persons of Rank, on great
Occasions in Life, of their Race and Quality, and to
what Expectations they were born; that by considering
what is worthy of them, they may be withdrawn from
mean Pursuits, and encouraged to laudable Undertakings.
This is turning Nobility into a Principle of Virtue, and
making it productive of Merit, as it is understood to have
been originally a Reward of it.
It is for the like Reason I imagine, that you have in
some of your Speculations asserted to your Readers the
Dignity of Human Nature. But you cannot be insensile
at
234 THE SPECTATOR
No. 537.
Saturday,
Nov. 15,
1712.
that this is a controverted Doctrine; there are Authors
who consider Human Nature in a very different View,
and Books of Maxims have been written to shew the
Falsity of all Human Virtues. The Reflections which
are made on this Subject usually take some Tincture from
the Tempers and Characters of those that make them.
Politicians can resolve the most shining Actions among
Men into Artifice and Design; Others, who are sowered
by Discontent, Repulses, or ill Usage, are apt to mistake
their Spleen for Philosophy; Men of profligate Lives, and
such as find themselves incapable of rising to any Dis»
tinction among their Fellow/Creatures, are for pulling
down all Appearances of Merit, which seem to upbraid
them; and Satyrists describe nothing but Deformity.
From all these Hands we have such Draughts of Mankind!
as are represented in those burlesque Pictures, which the
Italians call Caracaturas; where the Art consists in
preserving amidst distorted Proportions and aggravated
Features, some distinguishing Likeness of the Person,
but in such a Manner as to transform the most agreeable
Beauty into the most odious Monster. '
It is very disingenuous to level the best of Mankind
with the worst, and for the Faults of Particulars to
degrade the whole Species. Such Methods tend not only
to remove a Man's good Opinion of others, but to destroy
that Reverence for himself, which is a great Guard of
Innocence, and a Spring of Virtue.
It is true indeed that there are surprizing Mixtures of
Beauty and Deformity, of Wisdom and Folly, Virtue and
Vice, in the Human Make; such a Disparity is found
among Numbers of the same Kind, and every Individual,
in some Instances, or at some Times, is so unequal to
himself, that Man seems to be the most wavering and
inconsistent Being in the whole Creation. So that the
Question in Morality, concerning the Dignity of our
Nature, may at first Sight appear like some difficult
Questions in natural Philosophy, in which the Ar
ments on both sides seem to be of equal Strength. ut
as I be an with considering this Point as it relates to
Action,% shall here borrow an admirable Reflection from
Monsieur Paschal which I think sets it in its proper Light
It
THE SPECTATOR 235
It is of dangerous Consequence, says he, to repref No. 537.
sent to Man how near he is to the Level of Beasts, Saturday,
without shewing him at the same time his Greatness. 17E" '
It is likewise dangerous to let him see his Greatw '
ness, without his Meanness. It is more dangerous
yet to leave him ignorant of either; but very bene/
ficial that he should be made sensible of both.
Whatever Imperfections we may have in our Nature,
it is the Business of Religion and Virtue to rectifie them,
as far as is consistent with our present State. In the
mean time, it is no small Encouragement to generous
Minds to consider that we shall put them all off with
our Mortality. That sublime Manner of Salutation with
which the jews approach’d their Kings,
O King, live for ever !
may be addressed to the lowest and most despised Mortal
among us, under all the Infirmities and Distresses with
which we see him surrounded. And whoever believes
the Immortality of the Soul, will not need a better
Argument for the Dignity of his Nature, nor a stronger
Incitement to Actions suitable to it.
I am naturally led by this Reflection to a Shbject I
have already touched upon in a former Letter, and cannot
without Pleasure call to Mind the Thoughts of Cicero to
this Purpose, in the close of his Book concerning Old
Age. Every one who is acquainted with his Writings,
will remember that the Elder Cato is introduced in that
Discourse as the Speaker, and Scipio and Lelius as his
Auditors. This venerable Person is represented looking
forward as it were from the Verge of extream old Age,
into a future State, and rising into a Contemplation on
the unperishable Part of his Nature, and its Existence after
Death. I shall collect Part of his Discourse. And as you
have formerly offered some Arguments for the Soul’s
Immortality, agreeable both to Reason and the Christian
Doctrine, I believe your Readers will not be displeased to
see how the same great Truth shines in the Pomp of the
Roman Eloquence.
“ This, says Cato, is my firm Persuasion, that since the
human Soul exerts it self with so great Activity; sinci1 it
as

236 THE SPECTATOR
No, 537.
has such a Remembrance of the Past, such a Concern
Saturdal'v for the Future, since it is enriched with so many Arts,
Nov. 15,
1712,
Sciences and Discoveries, it is impossible but the Being
which contains all these must be Immortal.
“ The elder Cyrus, just before his Death, is represented
by XENOPHON speaking after this manner. ‘Think not,
my dearest Children, that when I depart from you
I shall be no more, but remember that my Soul, even
while I lived among you, was invisible to you; yet by
my Actions you were sensible it existed in this Body,
Believe it therefore Existing still, though it be still
unseen, How quickly would the Honours of illustrious
Men perish after Death, if their Souls performed now
thing to preserve their Fame I For my own Part, I
never could think that the Soul while in a mortal Body,
lives, but when departed out of it, dies ; or that its Con»
sciousness is lost when it is discharged out of an uncon/
scious Habitation, But when it is freed from all
corporeal Alliance, then it truly exists, Further, since
the Human Frame is broken by Death, tell us what her
comes of its Parts I It is visible whither the Materials
of other Beings are translated, namely, to the Source
from whence they had their Birth, v The Soul alone,
neither present nor departed, is the Object of our Byes.’
Thus Cyrus, But to proceed, No One shall persuade
me, Scipio, that your worthy Father, or your Grand/
fathers Pa ulus and Africanus, or African us his Father,
or Uncle, or many other excellent Men whom I need not
name, performed so many Actions to be remembered
by Posterity, without being sensible that Futurity was
their Right, And, if I may be allowed an old Man's
Privilege, to speak of my self, do you think I would have
endured the Fatigue of so many wearisome Days and
Nights both at home and abroad, if I imagined that the
same Boundary which is set to my Life must terminate
my Glory? Were it not more desirable to have worn
out my Days in Base and Tranquility, free from Labour,
and without Emulation? But I know not how, my Soul
has always raised itself, and looked forward on Futurity
in this View and Expectation, that when it shall depart
out of Life, it shall then live for ever; and if this were
not
THE SPECTATOR 237
not true, that the Mind is immortal, the Souls of the most No. 537,
worthy would not, above all others, have the strongest Saturday,
Impulse to Glory. g?“ 15'
What besides this is the Cause that the wisest Men 2'
dye with the greatest quuanimity, the ignorant with the
greatest Concern? Does it not seem that those Minds
which have the most extensive Views foresee they are
removing to a happier Condition, which those of a
narrower Sight do not perceive? I, for my part, am
transported with the Hope of seeing your Ancestors,
whom I have honoured and loved, and am earnestly
desirous of meeting not only those excellent Persons
whom I have known, but those too of whom I have heard
and read, and of whom I my self have written; nor would
I be detained from so pleasing a Journey. O happy Day,
when I shall escape from this Croud, this Heap of Pollw
tion, and be admitted to that Divine Assembly of exalted
Spirits! When I shall go not only to those great Persons
I have named, but to my Cato, my Son, than whom a
better Man was never born, and whose Funeral Rites I
my self performed, whereas he ought rather to have
attended mine. Yet has not his Soul deserted me, but
seeming to cast back a Look on me, is gone before to
those Habitations to which it was sensible I should follow
him. And though I might appear to have born my Loss
with Courage, Iwas not unaffected with it, but I comforted
my self in the Assurance that it would not be long before
we should meet again, and be divorced no more."
I am, Sir, hc.‘
I question not but my Reader will be very much
pleased to hear, that the Gentleman who has obliged
the World with the foregoing Letter. and who was the
Author of the 210th Speculation on the Immortality of
the Soul, the 375th on Virtue in Distress, the 525th on
Conjugal Love, and two or three other very fine ones
among those which are not Lettered at the End, will
soon publish a noble Poem, Intitled An Ode to the
Creator of the World, occasioned by the Fragments of
Orpheus.
Monday
238 THE SPECTATQR
NO: 5 3 8:
Monday,
Nov. 17
1712.
I
No. 538.
[ADDISONJ Monday, November 17.
-—--——ultra
Le gem tenders opus.—Hor.
URPRISE is so much the Life of Stories, that every
one aims at it who endeavours to please by telling
them. Smooth Delivery, an elegant Choice of Words,
and a sweet Arrangement, are all beautifying Graces, but
not the Particulars in this Point of Conversation which
either long command the Attention, or strike with the
Violence of a sudden Passion, or occasion the Burst of
Laughter which accompanies Humour. I have sometimes
fancyed that the Mind is in this Case like a Traveller
who sees a fine Seat in Haste; he acknowledges the
Delightfulness of a Walk set with Regularity, but would
be uneasie if he were obliged to pass it over, when the
first view had let him into all its Beauties from one
End to the other.
However, a Knowledge of the Success which Stories
will have when they are attended with a Turn of
Surprize, as it has happily made the Characters of some,
so has it also been the Ruin of the Characters of others.
There is a Sett of Men who outrage Truth, instead of
affecting us with a Manner in telling it; who over/leap
the Line of Probability, that they may be seen to move
out of the common Road; and endeavour only to make
their Hearers stare, by imposing upon them with a
Kind of Nonsense against the Philosophy of Nature, or
such a Heap of Wonders told upon their own Knowledge,
as it is not likely one Man should ever have met with.
I have been led to this Observation by a Company
into which I fell accidentally. The Subject of Antipathies
was a proper Field wherein such false Surprizers might
expatiate, and there were those present who appeared very
fond to shew it in its full Extent of traditional History.
Some of them, in a learned Manner, offered to our Con.
sideration the miraculous Powers which the Effluviums
of Cheese have over Bodies whose Pores are disposed
to receive them in a noxious Manner; others gave an
Account of such who could indeed bear the 815111“ of
eese
THE SPECTATOR 239
Cheese, but not the Taste; for which they brought a No. 538.
Reason from the Milk of their Nurses.
discoursed, without endeavouring at Reasons, concerning
the unconquerable Aversion which some Stomachs have
against a Joint of Meat when it is whole, and the eager
Inclination they have for it when, by its being cut up,
the Shape which had affected them is altered. From
hence they passed to Eels, then to Parsnips, and so from
one Aversion to another, till we had worked up our selves
to such a Pitch of Complaisance, that when the Dinner
was to come in, we enquired the Name of every Dish,
and hoped it would be no Offence to any in Company,
before it was admitted. When we had sate down, this
Civility amongst us turned the Discourse from Eatables
to other Sorts of Aversions, and the eternal Cat, which
plagues every Conversation of this Nature, began then
to engross the Subject. One had sweated at the Sight
of it, another had smelled it out as it lay concealed in
a very distant Cup/board, and he who crowned the whole
Set of these Stories, reckoned up the Number of Times in
which it had occasioned him to swoon away: At last, says
he, that you may all be satisfied of my invincible Aver;
sion to a Cat, I shall give an unanswerable Instance: As I
was going through a Street of London, where I never had
been till then, I felt a general Damp and Faintness all over
me, which I could not tell how to account for, till I chanced
to cast my Eyes upwards, and found that I was passing
under a Sign/post on which the Picture of a Cat was hung.
The Extravagance of this Turn in the Way of Surprize,
gave a Stop to the Talk we had been carrying on: Some
were silent because they doubted, and others because
they were conquered in their own Way; so that the
Gentleman had Opportunity to press the Belief of it
upon us, and let us see that he was rather exposing
himself than ridiculing others.
I must freely own that I did not all this while disbelieve
every thing that was said; but yet I thought some in
the Company had been endeavouring who should pitch
the Bar farthest; that it had for some Time been a
measuring Cast, and at last my Friend of the Cat and
Sign/post had thrown beyond them all. I
Others again Mon
d
. 1?,”
Nov
1712.
240 THE SPECTATOR
\I
o. 538.
EOVal y
onda ,
I
I then considered the Manner in which this Story had
been received, and the Possibility that it might have
passed for a Iest upon others, if he had not laboured
against himself. From hence, thought I, there are two
Ways which the well/bred World generally takes to
correct such a Practice, when they do not think fit to
contradict it flatly.
The first of these is a general Silence, which I would
not advise any one to interpret in his own Behalf. It
is often the Effect of Prudence in avoiding a Quarrel,
when they see another drive so fast, that there is no
stopping him without being run against, and but very
seldom the Effect of Weakness in believing suddenly.
The Generality of Mankind are not so grost ignorant
as some overbearing Spirits would perswade themselves;
and if the Authority of a Character or a Caution against
Danger make us suppress our Opinions, yet neither of
these are of Force enough to suppress our Thoughts of
them. If a Man who has endeavoured to amuse his
Company with Improbabilities could but look into their
Minds, he would find that they imagine he lightly esteems
of their Sense when he thinks to impose upon them, and
that he is less esteemed by them for his Attempt in doing
so. His Endeavour to glory at their Expence becomes a
Ground of Quarrel, and the Scorn and Indifference with
which they entertain it begins the immediate Punish/
ment: And indeed (if we should even go no further)
Silence, or a negligent Indifference has a deeper Way of
Wounding than Opposition; because Opposition proceeds
from an Anger that has a sort of generous Sentiment
for the Adversary mingling along with it, while it shews
that there is some Esteem in your Mind for him; in
short, that you think him worth while to contest with:
But Silence, or a negligent Indifference, proceeds from
Anger, mixed with a Scorn that shews another he is
thought by you too contemptible to be regarded.
The other Method which the World has taken for
correcting this Practice of false Surprize, is to over/shoot
such Talkers in their own Bow, or to raise the Story
with further Degrees of Impossibility, and set up for a
Voucher to them in such a Manner as must let them
see
THE SPECTATOR 241
see they stand detected. Thus I have heard a Discourse No. 538.
was once managed upon the Effects of Fear. One of M0116?
the Company had given an Account how it had turned 'f '
his Friend's Hair grey in a Night, while the Terrors of '
a Shipwreck encompassed him. Another taking the Hint
from hence, be an, upon his own Knowledge, to enlarge
his Instances o the like Nature to such a Number, that
it was not probable he could ever have met with them ;/
and as he still grounded these upon different Causes, for
the sake of the Variety, it might seem at last, from his
Share of the Conversation, almost impossible that any
one who can feel the Passion of Fear should all his
Life escape so common an Effect of it. By this Time
some of the Company grew negligent, or desirous to
contradict him; But one rebuked the rest with an
Appearance of Severity, and, with the known old Story
in his Head, assured them they need not scruple to
believe that the Fear of any thing can make a Man’s Hair
grey, since he knew one whose Perriwig had suffered so
b it. Thus he stopped the Talk, and made them easie.
Tillus is the same Method taken to bring us to Shame
which we fondly take to encrease our Character. It is
indeed a kind of Mimickry by which another puts on our
Air of Conversation to show us to our selves: He seems
to look ridiculous before you, that you may remember
how near a Resemblance you bear to him, or that you
may know he will not lie under the Imputation of
believing you. Then it is that you are struck dumb
immediately with a conscientious Shame for what you
have been saying; Then it is that you are inwardly
griev'd at the Sentiments which you cannot but perceive
others entertain concerning you. In short, you are
against your self; the Laugh of the Company runs against
ou; the censuring World is obliged to you for that
riumph which you have allowed them at your own
Expence; and Truth, which you have injured, has a
near Way of being revenged on you, when by the bare
Repetition of your Story you become a frequent Diver»
sion for the Publick.
IV. Q ‘ Mr.
242 THE SPECTATOR
\lo. 538. ‘ Mr. SPECTATOR,
Vlo d . .
do: a" The other Day, walking in Pancras Church/yard, I
712. thought of your Paper wherein you mention Epitaphs,
and am of Opinion this has a Thought in it worth being
communicated to your Readers,
Here Innocence and Beauty lies, whose Breath
Was snatch'd by early, not untimely Death.
Hence did she go just as she did begin
Sorrow to know, before she knew to sin.
Death, that does Sin and Sorrow thus prevent,
Is the next Blessing to a Life well spent.
I am, Sir,
Your Servant.’
No. 539.
Tuesday, November 18.
Heteroclyta sunto. Quae Genus.
‘Mr. SPECTATOR,
I AM a young Widow of a good Fortune and Family,
and just come to Town; where I find I have Clusters
of pretty Fellows come already to visit me, some dying
with Hopes, others with Fears, tho' they never saw me.
Now what I would beg of you, would be to know
whether I may venture to use these pert Fellows with
the same Freedom as I did my Country Acquaintance.
I desire your Leave to use them as to me shall seem
meet, without Imputation of a Iilt; for since I make
Declaration that not one of them shall have me, I think
I ought to be allowed the Liberty of insulting those who
have the Vanity to believe it is in their Power to make
me break that Resolution. There are Schools for learning
to use Foils, frequented by those who never des' 11 to
fight; and this useless Way of aiming at the cart,
without Design to wound it on either Side, is the Play
with which I am resolved to divert my self: The Man
who pretends to win, I shall use like him who comes
into a Fencing/School to pick a Quarrel. I hope, upon
this Foundation, you will give me the free Use of the
natural and artificial Force of my Eyes, Looks, and
Gestures. As for verbal Promises, I will make none, 1but
s all

THE SPECTATOR 243
shall have no Mercy on the conceited Interpreters of No, 539.
Glances and Motions, I am particularly skilled in the
downcast Eye, and the Recovery into a sudden full Aspect,
and away again, as you. may have seen sometimes
practised by us Country Beauties beyond all that you
have observed in Courts and Cities, Add to this, Sir, that
I have a ruddy heedless Look, which covers Artifice the
best of any thing, Tho' I can dance very well, I affect
a tottering untaught way of walking, by which I appear
an easie Prey; and never exert my instructed Charms
till I find I have engaged a Pursuer, Be pleased, Sir, to
print this Letter, which will certainly begin the Chace
of a rich Widow: The many Foldings, Escapes, Returns,
and Doublings which I make, I shall from Time to Time
communicate to you, for the better Instruction of all
Females who set up, like me, for reducing the present
exorbitant Power and Insolence of Man.
I am, Sir,
Your faithful Correspondent,
Relicta Lovely!
‘Dear Mr, SPEcrAToR,
I depend upon your profess'd Respect for virtuous
Love, for your immediate answering the Design of this
Letter; which is no other than to lay before the World
the Severity of certain Parents who desire to suspend
the Marriage of a discreet young Woman of Eighteen
three Years longer, for no other Reason but that of her
being too young to enter into that State, As to the C011!
sideration of Riches, my Circumstances are such, that I
cannot be suspected to make my Addresses to her on
such low Motives as Avarice or Ambition, If ever
Innocence, Wit, and Beauty, united their utmost Charms,
they have in her, I wish you would expatiate a little
on this Subject, and admonish her Parents that it may
be from the very Imperfection of Human Nature it self,
and not any personal Frailty of her or me, that our
Inclinations baffled at present may alter; and while we
are arguing with our selves to put off the Enjoyment
of our present Passions, our Affections may change
T p
Nov, 16,
1712,

eir
244 THE SPECTATOR
their Objects in the Operation. It is a very delicate
Subject to talk upon; but if it were but hinted, I am in
‘ Hopes it would give the Parties concerned some Rev
flection that might expedite our Happiness. There is a
Possibility, and I hope I may say it without Imputation
of Immodesty to her I love with the highest Honour; I
say, there is a Possibility this Delay may be as painful
to her as it is to me. If it be as much, it must be more,
by Reason of the severe Rules the Sex are under in
being denyed even the Relief of Complaint. If you
oblige me in this, and I succeed, I promise you a Place
at my Wedding, and a Treatment suitable to your
Spectatorial Dignity.
Your most humble Servant,
Eustace.’
’Sir,
I yesterday heard a you Gentleman, that looked as
if he was just come to the own and a Scarf, upon Evil/
speaking; which Subject, you know, Archbishop Tillot/
son has so nobl handled in a Sermon in his Folio.
As soon as ever e had named his Text, and had opened
a little the Drift of his Discourse, I was in reat Hopes
he had been one of Sir ROGER'S Chaplains. I have con»
ceived so great an Idea of the charming Discourse above,
that I should have thought one Part of my Sabbath very
well spent in hearing a Repetition of it. But alas! Mr.
SPECTATOR, this Reverend Divine gave us his Grace's
Sermon, and yet I don’t know how; even I, that I am
sure have read it at least twenty times, could not tell
what to make of it, and was at a Loss sometimes, to
guess what the Man aimed at. He was so just indeed
as to give us all the Heads and the Sub/divisions of the
Sermon; and farther, I think there was not one beautiful
Thought in it but what we had. But then, Sir, this
Gentleman made so many pretty Additions; and he
could never give us a Paragraph of the Sermon, but he
introduced it with something which, methought, looked
more like a Design to shew his own Ingenuity, than to
instruct the People. In short, he added and curtailed in
such a Manner that he vexed me; insomuch that 15
cou

THE SPECTATOR 245
could not forbear thinking, (what, I confess, I ought not No. 539.
to have thought of in so holy a Place) that this young Tuesday,
Spark was as iustly blameable as Bullock or Penketbman 11%; ' '
when they mend a noble play of Shakespear or johnson. '
Pray, Sir, take this into your Consideration; and if we
must be entertained with the Works of any of those
reat Men, desire these Gentlemen to give them us as they
find them, that so when we read them to our Families
at home, they may the better remember they have
heard it at Church.
Sir,
Your Humble Servant.’
No. 540.
[STEELE] Wednesday, November 19.
-_.-__ Non deficit alten—Virg;
‘Mr. SrscrAToP,
THERE is no Part of your Writings which I have
in more Esteem than your Criticism upon Milton.
It is an honourable and candid Endeavour to set the
Works of our noble Writers in the graceful Light which
they deserve. You will lose much of my kind Inclina/
tion towards you, if you do not attempt the Encomium
of Spencer also, or at least indulge my Passion for that
charming Author so far as to print the loose Hints I
now give you on that Subiect.
Spencer's general Plan is the Representation of six
Virtues, Holiness, Temperance, Chastity, Friendship,
Iustice, and Courtesie, in six Legends by six Persons.
The six Personages are supposed under proper Allegories
suitable to their respective Characters, to do all that is
necessary for the full Manifestation of the respective
Virtues which they are to exert.
These one might undertake to shew, under the
several Heads, are admirably drawn; no Images imv
proper, and most surprizingly beautiful. The Red/cross
Knight runs through the whole Steps of the Christian
Life; Guyon does all that Temperance can possibly
require; Britomartis (a Woman) observes the true
Rules of unaffected Chastity; Arthegal is in every
Respect
246 THE SPECTATOR
On ednes/
aOy‘h 19'
Respect of Life strictly and wisely just; Calidore is
rightly Courteous.
In short, in FairyaLand, where KnightswErrant have
a full Scope to range, and to do even what Ariostos or
Orlandos could not do in the World without breaking
into Credibility, Spencer’s Knights have, under these
six Heads, given a full and truly Poetical System of
Christian, Publick, and Low Life.
His Legend of Friendship is more diffuse, and yet
even there the Allegory is finely drawn, only the
Heads various; one Knight could not there support all
the Parts.
To do Honour to his Country, Prince Arthur is an
Universal Hero; in Holiness, Temperance, Chastity,
and Justice super/excellent. For the same Reason, and
to compliment Queen Elizabeth, Gloriana, Queen of
Fairies, whose Court was the Asylum of the Oppressed,
represents that glorious Queen. At her Commands all
these Knights set forth, and only at hers the Red/cross
Knight destroys the Dragon, Guyon overturns the Bower
of Bliss, Arthegal (i. e. justice) beats down Geryoneo
(i. e. Philip II. King of Spain) to rescue Belge (i. e.
Holland) and he beats the Grantorto (the same Philip
in another Light) to restore Irena (i. e. Peace to Europe).
Chastity being the first Female Virtue, Britomartis is
a Britain; her Part is fine, though it requires Explica/
tion. His Stile is very Poetical; no Puns, Affectations
of Wit, forced Antitheses, or any of that low Tribe.
His old Words are all true English, and Numbers
exquisite; and since of Words there is the M ulta Rena,
scentur, since they are all proper, such a Poem should
not (any more than Milton’s) subsist all of it of common
ordinary Words. See Instances of Descriptions.

Causeless Iealousie in Britomartis, V. 6. 14. in
its Restlessness.
Like as a wayward Child, whose sounder Sleep
Is broken, with some fearful Dreams affright,
With froward Will doth set himself to weep,
Ne can be still'd for all his Nurse's Blight,
But kicks, and squalls, and shrieks for {ell Despight;
Now scratching her, and her loose Locks misusing,
ow
THE SPECTATOR 247
Now seeking Darkness, and now seeking Light: No, 540,
Then craving Suck, and then the Suck refusing; Wedges.
Such was this Ladie's Loves in her Love's fond accusing. day,
, , , , , N .19.
Curiosity occasioned by jealousie, upon Occasion of 17%;,
her Lover's Absence. Ibid. St. 8, 9.
Then as she looked long, at last she spy’d
One coming towards her with hasty Speed,
Well ween 'd she then, e'er him she plain descry’d,
That it was one sent from her Love indeed:
Whereat her Heart was fill’d with Hope and Dread,
Ne wou'd she sta till he in Place cou’d come,
But ran to meet 'm forth, to know his Tidings somme;
Even in the Door him meeting, she begun,
And where he is, thy Lord, and how far hence?
Declare at once; And hath he lost or won?

Care and his House are described thus,
IV. 6. 33, 34, 35.
Not far away, not meet for any Guest,
They spy’d a little Cottage, like some poor Man 's Nest.
34.
There entring in, they found the good Man self
Full busily unto his Work ybent,
Who was so weel a wretched wearish Elf,
With hollow Eyes and rawlbone Cheeks forspent,
As if he had in Prison long been pent;
Full black and griesly did his Face appear,
Besmear'd with Smoak, that nigh his Eye/sight blent|
With ru ged Beard and hoary shagged Heare,
The which he never wont to comb, or comely shear.
35,
Rude was his Garment, and to Rags all rent,
Ne better had he, ne for better cared;
His blistred Hands amongst the Cinders brent,
And Fingers filthy, with long Nails prepared,
Right fit to rend the Food on which he fared.
His name was Care; a Blacksmith by his Trade,
That neither Day nor Night from working spared,
But to small Purpose Iron Wedges made.
These be unquiet Thoughts that careful M'nds invade.
Homer's Epithets were much admired by Antiquity:
See what great Iustness and Variety there is in these
Epithets of the Trees in the Forest ,where the Red/cross
Knight lost Truth. B. I. Cant. 1. St. 8, 9. Th
¢
248 THE SPECTATOR
540.
ednes/
I
ov. 19,
i i
The sailing Pine, the Cedar proud and tall,
The Vine/prop Elm, the Poplar never dry,
The Builder Oak, sole King of Forests all,
The Aspine good {or Staves, the Cypress Funeral.
9.
The Lawrel, Meed of mighty Conquerors,
And Poets cage; the Fir that weepcth still,
The Willow worn of forlorn Paramours,
The Eugh obedient to the Bender's Will,
The Birch for Shafts, the Sallow for the M'll;
The Myrrhe sweet bleeding in the bitter Wound,
The warlike Beech, the Ash for nothing ill,
The fruitful Olive, and the Platane round,
The Carver Holm, the Maple seldom inward sound.
I shall trouble you no more, but desire ou to let
me conclude with these Verses, though I ' they
have already been quoted by you: They are Directions
to young Ladies opprest with Calumny. VI. 6. 14.
The best (said he) that I can you advise,
Is to avoid the Occasion of the Ill ;
For when the Cause whence Evil doth arise
Removed is, the Effect surceaseth still.
Abstain from Pleasure and restrain your Will,
Subdue Desire, and bridle loose Deli ht,
Use scanted Diet, and forbear your ' ,
Shun Secrecy, and talk in open Sight,
So shall you soon repair your present evil Plight.’ T
No. 541.
[HUGHES.] Thursday, November 20.
Format enim natura prius nos intus ad omnem
Fortunarum habitum; fuvat aut impellit ad iram,
Aut ad humum maerore gravi deducit d angit;
Post effert animi motus interprete linguar—Hor.
Y Friend the TEMPLAR, whom I have so often
mentioned in these Writings, having determined
to lay aside his Poetical Studies, in order to a closer Pursuit
of the Law, has put together, as a Farewell Essay, some
Thoughts concerning Pronunciation and Action, which he
has given me leave to communicate to the Publick. They
are chiefly collected from his Favourite Author, Cicero, who
is known to have been an intimate Friend of Roscius the
Actor, and a good Judge of Dramatical Performances, as well
as the most Eloquent Pleader of the Time in which he lived.
Cicero
THE SPECTATOR 249
Cicero concludes his celebrated Books de Oratore with No. 541.
some Precepts for Pronunciation and Action, without which Thursda
Part he affirms that the best Orator in the World can ' 20'
never succeed; and an indifferent one, who is Master of '
this, shall gain much greater Applause. What could
make a stronger Impression, says he, than those Exclama.
tions of Gracchus Whither shall I turn .7 Wretch
that I am I To what Place betake my self .7 Shall I go
to the Capitol? Alas! it is overflowed with my
Brother’s Blood. Or shall I retire to my House .7 Yet
there I behold my Mother plung'd in Misery, weeping
and despairing.I These Breaks and Turns of Passion, it
seems, were so enforced by the Eyes, Voice and Gesture
of the Speaker, that his very Enemies could not refrain
from Tears. I insist, says Tully, upon this the rather,
because our Orators, who are as it were Actors of the
Truth it self, have quitted this manner of speaking, and
the Players, who are but Imitators of Truth, have taken


Us
I shall, therefore, pursue the Hint he has here given
me, and for the Service of the British Stage I shall Copy
some of the Rules which this great Roman Master has
laid down; yet, without confining my self wholly to his
Thoughts or Words; and to adapt this Essay the more to
the Purpose for which I intend it, instead of the Examples
he has inserted in this Discourse, out of the ancient
Tragedies, I shall make use of parallel Passages out of the
most Celebrated of our own.
The Design of Art is to assist Action as much as
possible in the Representation of Nature; for the Appear,
anoe of Reality is that which moves us in all Representaa
tions, and these have always the greater Force, the nearer
they approach to Nature, and the less they shew of
Imitation.
Nature herself has assigned, to every Emotion of the
Soul, its peculiar Cast of the Countenance, Tone of Voice,
and Manner of Gesture; and the whole Person, all the
Features of the Face and Tones of the Voice answer, like
Strings upon musical Instruments, to the Impressions
made on them by the Mind. Thus the Sounds of the
Voice, according to the various Touches which raise tlfaem,
orm
250 THE SPECTATOR
O4
form themselves into an Acute or Grave, Quick or Slow,
hvrsdav. Lowd or Soft Tone. These too may be subdivided into
0V4
12.
0' various Kinds of Tones, as the gentle. the rough, 31¢
contracted, the diffused, the continued, the intermitted, the
broken, abrupt, winding, softned, or elevated. Every one
of these may be employed with Art and judgment; and
all supply the Actor, as Colours do the Painter, with an
expressive Variety.
Anger exerts its peculiar Voice in an acute, raised, and
hurrying Sound. The passionate Character of King Lear,
as it is admirably drawn by Shakespear, abounds with the
strongest Instances of this kind.
Death! Confusion!
Fiery! what Qualityl———why Glosterl Gloster!
I 'd speak with the Duke of Cornwall and his Wife. . . ,
Are they inform'd of this! My Breath and Blood!
Fiery? the fiery Duke ! fic.
Sorrow and Complaint demand a Voice quite different,
flexible, slow, interrupted, and modulated in a mournful
Tone; as in that pathetical Soliloquy of Cardinal Wolsey
on his Fall.
Farewell !-—A long Farewell to all my Greatness!
This is the State of Man l—towday he puts forth
The tender Leaves of Hope; towmorrow Blossoms,
And bears his blushing Honours thick u on him.
The third Day comes a Frost, a ln'lling rost,
And when he thinks, good easie Man, full surely
His Greatness is a ripening,“ nips his Root,
And then he falls as I do.
We have likewise a fine Example of this in the whole
Part of Andromache in the Distrest Mother, particularly
in these lines,
I ’11 go, and in the Anguish of my Heart
Weep o'er my Child—If he must dye, my Life
Is wrapt in his, I shall not long survive.
’Tis for his sake that I have suffer'd Life,
Groan'd in Captivity, and outliv'd Hector.
Yes, my Astyanax, we '11 go together!
Together to the Realms of Night we ’11 go:
There to tlznxz'avish'd Eyes thy Sire I ’11 show,
And point ' out among the Shades below.
Fear expresses itself in a low, hesitating and abject
Sound


THE SPECTATOR 251
Sound. If the Reader considers the following Speech of No. 541.
Lady Macbeth, while her Husband is about the Murder Thursdal
of Duncan and his Grooms, he will imagine her even1 °"' 2 '
affrighted with the Sound of her own Voice while she is '
speaking it.
Alas! I am afraid they have awak'd
And 'tis not done; th' Attempt and not the Deed
Confounds us—hark!--—-I laid the Daggers ready,
He cou'd not miss them. Had he not resembled
My Father as he slept, I had done it.
Courage assumes a louder Tone, as in that Speech of
Don Sebastian,
Here satiate all your Fury; ‘
Let Fortune empty her whole Quiver on me,
I have a Soul that like an ample Shield
Can take in all, and Verge enough for more.
Pleasure dissolves into a luxurious, mild, tender and
joyous Modulation; as in the following Lines in Caius
Marius,
Lavinia! 0 there 's Musicl: in the Name,
That softning me to infant Tenderness
Makes my Heart spring. like the first Leaps of Life.
And Perplexity is different from all these; grave, but
not bemoaning, with an earnest uniform Sound of Voice;
as in that celebrated Speech of Hamlet,
To be, or not to be i—that is the Question.
Whether 'tis nobler in the Blind to suffer
The Slings and Arrows of outragious Fortune,
Or to take Arms against a Sea of Troubles,
And by opposing end them. To die, to sleep;
No more; and by a Sleep to say we end
The Heartwake, and the thousand natural Shocks
That Flesh is Heir to; 'Tis a Consummation
Devoutly to be wish’d. To die, to sle
To sleep, perchance to dream! A , there ’s the Rub.
For in that Sleep of Death what reams may come,
When we have shuffled off this Mortal Coil,
Must give us pause.—- There 's the Respect
That makes Calamity of so long Life;
For who would bear the Whips and Scorns of Time,
Th' Oppressor's Wrong, the proud Man’s Contumely,
The Pangs oi despis'd Love, the Law’s Delay,
The Insolence of Office, and the Spurns
That patient Merit of th' unworthy takes,
When
252 THE SPECTATOR
'0, 541, When he himself might his Quietus make
humday, With a bare Bodkin I who wou'd Fardles bear,
Lo“ 20’ To groan and sweat under a weary Life I
12, But that the Dread of something after Death,
The undiscover'd Country, from whose Bourn
No Traveller returns, puzzles the Will,
And makes us rather chuse those Ills we have,
Than fly to others that we know not of.
As all these Varieties of Voice are to be directed by the
Sense, so the Action is to be directed by the Voice, and
with a beautiful Propriety, as it were, to enforce it. The
Arm, which b a strong Figure Tully calls the Ora tor's
Weapon, is to e sometimes raised and extended, and the
Hand, by its Motion, sometimes to lead, and sometimes to
follow the Words as they are uttered. The Stamping of
the Foot too has its roper Expression in Contention,
Anger, or absolute mmand. But the Face is the
Epitome of the whole Man, and the Eyes are, as it were
the Epitome of the Face; for which Reason, he says,
the best Judges among the Romans were not extreamly
pleased, even with Roscius himself in his Masque. No
Part of the Body, besides the Face, is capable of as many
Changes as there are different Emotions in the Mind,
and of expressing them all by those Changes. Nor is
this to be done without the Freedom of the Eyes; there;
fore Theophrastus called one, who barely rehearsed his
Speech with his Eyes fixt, an absent Actor.
As the Countenance admits of so great Variety, it
requires also great Judgment to govern it. Not that the
Form of the Face is to be shifted on every Occasion, lest
it turn to Farce and Buffoonery; but it is certain, that the
Eyes have a wonderful Power of marking the Emotions
of the Mind, sometimes by a stedfast Look, sometimes by
a careless one; now by a sudden Regard, then by a joyful
Sparkling, as the Sense of the Words is diversifyed; for
Action is, as it were, the Speech of the Features and
Limbs, and must therefore conform it self always to the
Sentinmnts of the Soul. And it may be observed, that
in all which relates to the Gesture, there is a wonderful
Force implanted by Nature; since the Vulgar, the Un/
skillful, and even the most Barbarous are chiefly affected
by this. None are moved by the Sound of Wordst,h but
ose
THE SPECTATOR 253
those who understand the Language; and the Sense of No. 541.
many things is lost upon Men of a dull Apprehension; Thurs“?
but Action is a kind of Universal Tongue; all Men are ' 20’
subject to the same Passions, and consequently know the '
same Marks of them in others, by which they themselves
express them.
Perhaps some of my Readers may be of Opinion, that
the Hints I have here made use of, out of Cicero, are
somewhat too refined for the Players on our Theatre ;- in
answer to which I venture to lay it down, as a Maxim.
that without good Sense no one can be a good Player, and
that he is very unfit to personate the Dignity of a Roman
Hero, who cannot enter into the Rules for Pronunciation
and Gesture delivered by a Roman Orator.
There is another thing which my Author does not
think too minute to insist on, though it is purely mechani/
cal; and that is the right pitching of the Voice. On this
Occasion he tells the Story of Gracch us, who employed
a Servant with a little Ivory Pipe to stand behind him,
and give him the right Pitch, as often as he wandred
too far from the proper Modulation. Every Voice, says
Tully, has its particular Medium and Compass, and the
Sweetness of Speech consists in leading it through all
the Variety of Tones naturally, and without touching any
Extreme. Therefore, says he, Leave the Pipe at home,
but carry the Sense of this Custom with you.

No. 542.
[ADDISONJ Friday, November 21.
Ht sibi praeferri se gaudet——r——Ovid.
HEN I have been present in Assemblies where
my Paper has been talked of, I have been very
well pleased to hear those who would detract from the
Author of it observe, that the Letters which are sent to
the Spectator are as good, if not better, than any of his
Works. Upon this Occasion many Letters of Mirth are
usually mentioned, which some think the Spectator writ
to himself, and which others Commend because they
fancy he received them from his Correspondents: Such
are those from the Valetudinarian; the Inspector of the
Slsn
254 THE SPECTATOR
ri ay,
lov. 21,
712.
Sign/posts; the Master of the Fan Exercise: with that of
the Hooped Petticoat; that of Nicholas Hart the annual
Sleeper; that from Sir john E'nvill ; that upon the London
Cries; with Multitudes of the same Nature. As I love
nothing more than to mortifie the ill/natured, that I may
do it effectually, I must acquaint them, they have very
often praised me when they did not design it, and that
they have approved my Writings when they thought
they had derogated from them. I have heard several of
these unhappy Gentlemen proving, by undeniable Argw
ments, that I was not able to pen a Letter which I had
written the Day before. Nay, I have heard some of them
throwing out ambiguous Expressions, and giving the
Company Reason to suspect that they themselves did me
the Honour to send me such or such a particular Epistle,
which happened to be talked of with the Esteem or Ap;
probation of those who were present. These rigid
Criticks are so afraid of allowing me any thing which
does not belong to me, that they will not be positive
whether the Lion,‘the wild Boar, and the Flower/pots in
the Play/house, did not actually write those Letters which
came to me in their Names. I must therefore inform
these Gentlemen, that I often chuse this way of casting
my Thoughts into a Letter, for the following Reasons;
First, out of the Policy of those who try their jest upon
another, before they own it themselves. Secondly, be/
cause I would extort a little Praise from such who will
never applaud any thing whose Author is known and
certain. Thirdly, because it gave me an Opportunity of
introducing a great variety of Characters into my Work,
which could not have been done, had I always written
in the Person of the Spectator. Fourthly, because the
Dignity Spectatorial would have suffered, had I published
as from my self those several ludicrous Compositions
which I have ascribed to fictitious Names and Characters.
And lastly, because they often serve to bring in, more
naturally, such additional Reflections as have been placed
at the End of them.
There are others who have likewise done me a very
particular Honour, though undesignedly. These are such
who will needs have it, that I have translated or borrowed
many

THE SPECTATOR 255
many of my Thoughts out of Books which are written No. 542.
in other Languages. I have heard of a Person, who is Fridav.
more famous for his Library than his Learning, that has ' '
asserted this more than once in his private Conversation. '
Were it true, I am sure he could not speak it from his
own Knowledge; but had he read the Books which he
has collected, he would find this Accusation to be wholly
groundless. Those who are truly learned will acquit me
in this Point, in which I have been so far from offending,
thatI have been scrupulous perhaps to a Fault in quoting
the Authors of several Passages which I might have made
my own. But as this Assertion is in reality an Encomium
on what I have published, I ought rather to glory in it,
than endeavour to confute it.
Some are so very willing to alienate from me that
small Reputation which might accrue to me from any of
these my Speculations, that they attribute some of the best
of them to those imaginary Manuscripts with which I
have introduced them. There are others, I must confess,
whose Objections have given me a greater Concern, as
they seem to reflect, under this Head, rather on my
Morality than on my Invention. These are they who
say an Author is guilty of Falsehood, when he talks to the
Publick of Manuscripts which he never saw, or describes
Scenes of Action or Discourse in which he was never
engaged. But these Gentlemen would do well to com
sider, there is not a Fable or Parable which ever was
made use of, that is not liable to this Exception; since
nothing, according to this Notion, can be related inno/
cently which was not once Matter of Fact. Besides,I
think the most ordinary Reader may be able to discover,
by my way of writing, what Ideliver in these Occurrences
as Truth, and what as Fiction.
Since I am unawares engaged in answering the several
Obiections which have been made against these my
Works, I must take Notice that there are some who affirm
a Paper of this Nature should always turn upon diverting
Subjects, and others who find Fault with every one of
them that hath not an immediate Tendency to the Ad.
vancement of Religion or Learning. I shall leave these
Gentlemen to dispute it out among themselves; since I
see
256 THE SPECTATOR
see one half of my Conduct patronized by each side.
Were I serious on an improper Subject, or trifling in a
serious one, I should deservedly draw upon me the Cen/
sure of my Readers; or were I conscious of any thing in
my Writings that is not innocent at least, or that the
greatest part of them were not sincerely designed~ to dis/
countenance Vice and Ignorance, and support the Interest
of true Wisdom and Virtue, I should be more severe upon
my self than the Publick is disposed to be. In the mean
while I desire my Reader to consider every particular
Paper or Discourse as a distinct Tract by it self, and inde/
pendant of every thing that goes before or after it.
I shall end this Paper with the following Letter, which
was really sent me, as some others have been which I
have published, and for which I must own my self in»
debted to their respective Writers. .
I 811';
I was this Morning in a Company of your Well.
wishers, when we read over, with great Satisfaction,
Tully’s Observations on Action adapted to the British
Theatret Though, by the way, we were very sorry to
find that you have disposed of another Member of your
Club. Poor Sir Roger is dead, and the worthy Clergya
man dying. Captain Sentry has taken Possession of a
fair Estate, Will Honeycomb has married a Farmer's
Daughter, and the Templar withdraws himself into the
Business of his own Profession. What will all this end
in! We are afraid it portends no good to the Publick.
Unless you very speedily fix a Day for the Election of
new Members, we are under Apprehensions of losing
the British Spectator. I hear of a Party of Ladies who
intend to address you on this Subject, and question not,
if you do not give us the Slip very suddenl , that you
will receive Addresses from all Parts of the ' dom to
continue so useful a Work. Pray deliver us out of this
Perplexity, and among the Multitude of your Readers you
will particularly oblige.
Your most Sincere Friend
and Servant,

O Philo/Spec.’
Saturday
THE SPECTATOR 257
No. 543. N°' 543
[ADDISONJ Saturday, November 22. lsqaggfga
——--—Facies non omnibus una 1712;
Nec diversa tamen——-—.-—
HOSE who were skillful in Anatomy among the
Ancients, concluded from the outward and inward
Make of an Human Body, that it was the Work of a Being
transcendently Wise and Powerful. As the World grew
more enlightened in this Art, their Discoveries gave them
fresh Opportunities of admiring the Conduct of Provi/
dence in the Formation of an Human Body. Galen was
converted by his Dissections, and could not but own a
Supreme Being upon a Survey of this his Handywork.
There were, indeed, many Parts of which the old
Anatomists did not know the certain Use, but as they
saw that most of those which they examined were adapted
with admirable Art to their several Functions, they did
not question but those, whose Uses they could not deter»
mine, were contrived with the same Wisdom for respective
Ends and Purposes. Since the Circulation of the Blood
has been found out, and many other great Discoveries
have been made by our Modern Anatomists, we see new
Wonders in the Human Frame, and discern several im/
portant Uses for those Parts, which Uses the Ancients
knew nothing of. In short, the Body of Man is such a
Subject as stands the utmost Test of Examination. Tho'
it appears formed with the nicest Wisdom upon the most
superficial Survey of it, it still mends upon the Search,
and produces our Surprize and Amazement in Proportion
as we pry into it. WhatI have here said of an Human
Body, may be applied to the body of every Animal which
has been the Subject of Anatomical Observations.
The Body of an Animal is an Object adequate to our
Senses. It is a particular System of Providence, that lies
in a narrow Compass. The Eye is able to command it,
and by successive Enquiries can search into all its Parts.
Could the body of the whole Earth, or indeed the whole
Universe, be thus submitted to the Examination of our
Senses, were it not too big and disproportioned for our
Enquiries, too unwieldy for the Management of the Eye
IV. R and
258 THE SPECTATQR
lo. 543. and Hand, there is no Question but it would appear to us
athdaYv as curious and well/contrived a Frame as that of an
V!
2.
’ Human Body.
We should see the same Concatenation
and Subserviency, the same Necessity and Usefulness, the
same Beauty and Harmony in all and every of its Parts,
as what we discover in the Body of every single Animal.
The more extended our Reason is, and the more able
to grapple with immense ijects, the greater still are those
Discoveries which it makes of Wisdom and Providence in
the Work of the Creation. As Sir Isaac Newton, who
stands up as the Miracle of the present Age, can look
through a whole Planetary System; consider it in its
Weight, Number, and Measure; and draw from it as
many Demonstrations of infinite Power and Wisdom, as a
more confined Understanding is able to deduce from the
System of an Human Body.
But to return to our Speculations on Anatomy, I shall
here consider the Fabrick and Texture of the Bodies of
Animals in one Particular View, which, in my Opinion,
shews the Hand of a thinking and allawise Being in their
Formation, with the Evidence of a thousand Demonstra/
tions. I think we may lay this down as an incontested
Principle, that Chance never acts in a perpetual Uniformity
and Consistence with it self. If one should always fling
the same Number with ten thousand Dice, or see every
Throw just five times less, or five times more in Number,
than the Throw which immediately preceded it, who
would not imagine there is some invisible Power which
directs the Cast? This is the Proceeding which we find
in the Operations of Nature. Every kind of Animal is
diversifyed by different Magnitudes, each of which gives
Rise to a different Species. Let a Man trace the Dog or
Lion Kind, and he will observe how many of the Works
of Nature are published, if I may use the Expression, in a
variety of Editions. If we look into the Reptile World, or
into those different Kinds of Animals that fill the Element
of Water, we meet with the same Repetitions among
several Species, that differ very little from one another, but
in Size and Bulk. You find the same Creature, that is
drawn at large, copied out in several Proportions, and
ending in Miniature. It would be tedious to produce
Instances
THE SPECTATOR 259
Instances of this regular Conduct in Providence, as it would No. 543.
be superfluous to those who are versed in the Natural SaturdaY
History of Animals. The Magnificent Harmony of the 2'
Universe is such, that we "may observe innumerable '
Divisions running upon the same Ground. I might also
extend this Speculation to the dead Parts of Nature, in
which we may find Matter disposed into many similar
Systems, as well in our Survey of Stars and Planets, as of
Stones, Vegetables, and other sublunary Parts of the Crea/
tion. In a Word, Providence has shewn the Richness of
its Goodness and Wisdom, not only in the Production of
many Original Species, but in the Multiplicity of Descants
which it has made on every Original Species in particular.
But to pursue this Thought still farther: Every living
Creature, considered in it self, has many very complicated
Parts that are exact Copies of some other Parts which
it possesses, and which are complicated in the same
manner. One Eye would have been sufficient for the
Subsistence and Preservation of an Animal; but, in order
to better his Condition, we see another placed with a
Mathematical Exactness in the same most advantageous
Situation, and in every Particular of the same Size and
Texture. Is it possible for Chance to be thus delicate
and uniform in her Operations? Should a Million of Dice
turn up twice together the same Number, the Wonder
would be nothing in Comparison with this. But when
we see this Similitude and Resemblance in the Arm,
the Hand, the Fingers; when we see one half of the
Body entirely correspond with the other in all those
minute Strokes, without which a Man might have very
well subsisted; nay, when we often see a single Part
repeated an hundred times in the same Body, not/
withstanding it consists of the most intricate weaving
of numberless Fibres, and these Parts differing still
in Magnitude, as the Convenience of their particular
Situation requires, sure a Man must have a strange
Cast of Understanding, who does not discover the Finger
of God in so wonderful a Work. These Duplicates in
those Parts of the Body, without which a Man might
have very well subsisted, tho' not so well with them,
are a plain Demonstration of an all/wise Contriver; as
those
260 THE SPECTATOR
“Os iaturday,
\Iov. 22,
712.
those more numerous Copyings, which are found among
the Vessels of the same Body, are evident Demonstrations
that they could not be the Work of Chance. This Argue
ment receives additional Strength, if we apply it to every
Animal and Insect, within our Knowledge, as well as to
those numberless living Creatures that are Objects too
minute for an Human Eye; and if we consider how the
several Species in this whole World of Life resemble
one another in very many Particulars, so far as is con/
venient for their respective States of Existence. It is
much more probable that an hundred Million of Dice
should be casually thrown an hundred Million of Times
in the same Number, than that the Body of any single
Animal should be produced by the fortuitous Concourse
of Matter. And that the like Chance should arise in
innumerable Instances, requires a Degree of Credulity
that is not under the direction of Common/Sense. We
may carry this Consideration yet further, if we reflect
on the two Sexes in every living Species, with their
Resemblances to each other, and those particular Dis.
tinctions that were necessary for the keeping up of this
great World of Life.
There are many more Demonstrations of a Supreme
Being, and of his transcendent Wisdom, Power and Good/
ness in the Formation of the Body of a living Creature,
for which I refer my Reader to other Writings, particularly
to the Sixth Book of the Poem Entitled Creation, where
the Anatomy of the human Body is described with Great
Perspicuity and Elegance. I have been particular on the
Thought which runs through this Speculation, because
I have not seen it enlarged upon by others. O

Monday
THE SPECTATOR 261
NO. NO-
[STEELE] Monday, November 24. 113:3“? '
Nunquam ita quisquam bene subducta ratione ad vitam fuit, 1712-
Ouin res, aetas, usus semper aliquid apportet novi,
Aliquid moneat, ut illa, quae te scire credas, nescias,
Et, quae tibi putaris prima, in experiundo ut repudies.-—Ter.
HERE are, I think, Sentiments in the following
Letter from my Friend Captain SENTREY, which
discover a rational and equal Frame of Mind, as well
prepared for an advantageous as an unfortunate Change
of Condition.
‘Coverley/Hall, Nov. 15. Worcestershire.
Sir,
I am come to the Succession of the Estate of my
honoured Kinsman Sir ROGER DE Cow; and I assure
you I find it no easie Task to keep up the Figure of
Master of the Fortune which was so handsomely enjoyed
by that honest plain Man. I cannot (with Respect to the
great Obligations I have, be it spoken) reflect upon his
Character, but I am confirmed in the Truth which I have,
I think, heard spoken at the Club, to wit, That a Man of
a warm and welladisposed Heart with a very small Capa/
city, is highly superior in humane Society to him who
with the greatest Talents is cold and languid in his Affec/
tions. But, alas! why do I make a Difficulty in speaking
of my worthy Ancestor's Failings? His little Absurdities
and Incapacity for the Conversation of the politest Men
are dead with him, and his greater Qualities are even now
useful to him. I know not whether by naming those Disa
abilities I do not enhance his Merit, since he has left
behind him a Reputation in his Country which would be
worth the Pains of the wisest Man's whole Life to arrive
at. By the Way I must observe to you, that many of
your Readers have mistook that Passage in your Writings,
wherein Sir ROGER is reported to have enquired into the
private Character of the young Woman at the Tavern. I
know you mentioned that Circumstance as an Instance of
the Simplicity and Innocence of his Mind, which made
him imagine it a very easie thing to reclaim one of those
Criminals, and not as an Inclination in him to be guiltyI
wit
262‘ THE SPECTATOR
o. 544.
onday,
UV. 241
with her. The less Discerning of your Readers cannot
enter into that Delicacy of Description in the Character:
But indeed my Chief Business at this Time is to represent
to you my present State of Mind, and the Satisfactions I
promise to my self in the Possession of my new Fortune.
I have continued all Sir RoGER’s Servants, except such as it
was a Relief to dismiss into little Beings within my
Manor: Those who are in a List of the good Knight's
own Hand to be taken Care of by me,I have quartered
upon such as have taken new Leases of me, and added
so many Advantages during the Lives of the Persons so
quartered, that it is the Interest of those whom they are
joined with to cherish and befriend them upon all Occa/
sions. I find a considerable Sum of ready Mony, which I
am laying out among my Dependants at the common
Interest, but with a Design to lend it according to their
Merit rather than according to their Ability. I shall lay
a Tax upon such as I have highly obliged, to become
Security to me for such of their own poor Youth, whether
Male or Female, as want Help towards getting into some
Being in the World. I hope I shall be able to manage my
Affairs so, as to improve my Fortune every Year, by
doing Acts of Kindness. I will lend my Mony to the Use
of none but indigent Men, secured by such as have ceased
to be indigent by the Favour of my Family or my self.
What makes this the more practicable is, that if they will
do any one Good with my Mony, they are welcome to it
upon their own Security: And I make no Exception
against it, because the Persons who enter into the Obliga/
tions do it for their own Family. I have laid out four
thousand Pounds this Way, and it is not to be imagined
what a Crowd of People are obliged by it. In Cases where
Sir ROGER has recommended I have lent Mony to put out
Children, with a Clause which makes void the Obligation,
in case the Infant dies before he is out of his Apprentice/
ship; by which Means the Kindred and Masters are ex;
treame careful of breeding him to Industry, and he may
repay it himself by his Labour, in three Years Journey/
work after his Time is out for the Use of his Securities.
Opportunities of this Kind are all that have occurred
since I came to my Estate; but I assure you I will
preserve
THE SPECTATOR 263
preserve a constant Disposition to catch at all the No. 544.
Qccasions I can to promote the Good and Happiness of MondaY.
my Neighbourhood. ‘ 24'
But give me Leave to lay before you a little Establish/ '
ment which has grown out of my past Life, that, I doubt
not, will administer great Satisfaction to me in that Part of
it, whatever that is, which is to come.
There is a Preiudice in favour of the Way of Life to
which a Man has been educated, which I know not
whether it would not be faulty to overcome: It is like a
Partiality to the Interest of one's own Country before that
of any other Nation. It is from an Habit of Thinking,
grown upon me from my Youth spent in Arms, that I have
ever held Gentlemen, who have preserved Modesty, Good/
nature, Justice, and Humanity in a Soldier's Life, to be the
most valuable and worthy Persons of the humane Race.
To pass through imminent Dangers, suffer painful Watch/
ings, frightful Alarms, and laborious Marches for the
greater Part of a Man’s Time, and pass the rest in Sobriety
conformable to the Rules of the most virtuous civil Life,
is a Merit too great to deserve the Treatment it usually
meets with among the other Part of the World. But I
assure you, Sir, were there not very many who have this
Worth, we could never have seen the glorious Events
which we have in our Days. I need not say more to
illustrate the Character of a Soldier, than to tell you he is
the very contrary to him you observe loud, saucy, and
over/bearing in a red Coat about Town. But I was going
to tell you, that in Honour of the Profession of Arms, I
have set apart a certain Sum of Mony for a Table for such
Gentlemen as have served their Country in the Army,
and will please from Time to Time to sojourn all, or any
Part of the Year, at Coverly. Such of them as will do me
that Honour shall find Horses, Servants, and all Things
necessary for their Accommodation, and Enjoyment of
all the Conveniences of Life in a pleasant various Country.
If Collonel Camper-felt be in Town, and his Abilities are
not employ'd another Way in the Service, there is no
Man would be more welcome here. That Gentleman's
thorough Knowledge in his Profession, together with the
Simplicity of his Manners, and Goodness of his Heaiig,
wou
264 THE SPECTATOR
.. 544.
onda ,
ov. 2 ,
would induce others like him to Honour my Abode; andI
should be glad my Acquaintance would take themselves to
be invited or not, as their Characters have an Affinity to his.
I would have all my Friends know, that they need not
fear (though I am become a Country Gentleman) I' will
trespass against their Temperance and Sobriety. No, Sir,
I shall retain so much of the good Sentiments for the
Conduct of Life, which we cultivated in each other at our
Club, as to contemn all inordinate Pleasures: But particw
larly remember, with our beloved Tully, that the Delight
in Food consists in Desire, not Satiety. They who most
passionately pursue Pleasure seldomest arrive at it. Now
I am writing to a Philosopher, I cannot forbear mentioning
the Satisfaction I took in the Passage I read Yesterday in
the same Tully. A Nobleman of Athens made a complin
ment to Plato the Morning after he had supped at his
House, Your Entertainments do not only please when
you give them, but also the Day after.
I am, My worthy Friend,
Your most Obedient Humble Servant,
T WILLIAM SENTREY.’
No. 54§.
[STEELE] Tuesday, November 25.
Quin potius pacem aeternam pactosque Hymenaeos
Exercemus.—Virg.
CANNOT but think the following Letter from the
I Emperor of China to the Pope of Rome, proposing
a Coalition of the Chinese and Roman Churches, will
be acceptable to the Curious. I must confess I my
self being of Opinion that the Emperor has as much
Authority to be Interpreter to him he pretends to ex/
pound, as the Pope has to be Vicar to the Sacred
Person he takes upon him to represent, I was not
a little pleased with their Treaty of Alliance. What
Progress the Negotiation between his Majesty of Rome
and his Holiness of China makes, (as we daily Writers
say upon Subjects where we are at a Loss) Time will
let us know. In the mean time, since they agree in
the Fundamentals of Power and Authority, and differ
only
THE SPECTATOR 265
only in Matters of Faith, we may expect the Matter N°- 535'
will go on without Difficulty. 5325,1522?
1 .
Copia di Littera del Re della China al Papa, interpretata
dal Padre Segretario dell' India della Compagnia di Giesu.
‘A Voi Benedetto sopra 1' benedetti PP, ed Interpretatore
grande de Pon tifici e Pastore Xmo, dispensatore
dell' oglz'o de 1' Re d’ Europe Clemente XI.
Il Favorite amico di Dio Gionata 7° Potentissimo
sopra tutti i potentissimi della terra, Altissmo sopra
tutti gl' Altissmi sotto il sole e la luna, che sede nella
sede di smeraldo della China sopra cento scalini d'oro,
ad interpretare la lingua di Dio a tutti i descendenti
fedeli d'Abramo, che da la vita e la morte a cento
quindici regni, ed a cento settante Isole, scrive con la
penna dello Struzzo vergine, e manda salute ed accresi/
mento di vecchiezza,
Essendo arrivato il tempo in cui il fiore della reale
nostro gioventu deve maturare i Frutti della nostra
vecchiezza, e confortare con quell' i desiderii de i populi
nostri divoti, e propagare il seme di quella pianta che
deve proteggerli, habbiamo Stabilito d'accompagnarci con
una virgine eccelsa ed amorosa allattata alla mammella
della leonessa forte e dell' Agnella mansueta. Percio
essendo ci stato figurato sempre il vostro popqu Europeo
Romano per paese di donne invitte, i forte, e caste;
allongiamo la nostra mano potente, a stringere una
di loro, e questa sara una vostra nipote, o nipote di
qualche altrogran Sacerdote Latino, che sia quardata
dall' occhio dritto di Dio, sara seminata in lei 1' Autorita
di Sarra, la Fedelta d' Esther, e la sapienza di Abba; la
vogliamo con l'occhio che guarda il cielo, e la terra
e con la bocca della Conchiglia che si pasce della
ruggiada del matino. La sua eta non passi ducento
corsi della Luna, la sua statura sia alta quanto la spicca
dritta del grano verde, e la sua grossezza quanto un
manipolo di grano secco. Noi la mandaremmo a VCS/
tire per li nostri mandatici Ambasciadori, e chi la
conduranno a noi, e noi incontraremmo alla riva del
fiume grande facendola salire sue nostro cocchio. Ella
potra
266 THE SPECTATOR
[o. 535.
ues a
lov. 25,,"
{12.
potra adorare appresso di noi il suo Dio, con venti
quatro altre a sua ellezzione, e potra cantare con loro
come la Tortora alla Primavera.
Sodisfando noi Padre e amico nostro questa nostra
brama, sarete caggione di unire in perpetua amicitia
cotesti vostri Regni d'Europa al nostro dominante Ima
perio, e si abbracciranno le vostri leggi come l' edera
abbraccia la pianta, e noi medesemi Spargeremo del
nostro seme reale in coteste Provincei, riscaldando i
letti di vostri Principi con il fuoco amoroso delle nostre
Amazoni, d' alcune delle quali i nostri mandatici Am»
basciadori vi porteranno le Somiglianze dipinte. V.
Confirmiamo di tenere in pace le due buone religiose
famiglie delli Missionarii gli' Figlioli d' Ignazio, e li
bianchi e neri figlioli di Dominico il cui consiglio degl'
uni e degl' altri ci serve di scorta del nostro regimento
e di lume ad interpretare le divine Legge come appuncto
fa lume l'oglio che si getta in Mare. In tanto Alzandoci
dal nostro Trono per Abbracciarvi, vi dichiariamo nostro
conguinto e Confederato, ed ordiniamo che questo foglio
sia segnato col nostro Segno Imperiale dalla nostra Citta,
Capo del Mondo, il quinto giorno della terza lunatione l'
anno quarto del nostro Imperio.
Sigillo e un sole nelle cui faccia e anche quella della
Luna ed intorno tra i Raggi vi sono traposte alcune
S ade.
PDico il Traduttore che secondo il Ceremonial di questo
Lettere e recedentissimo specialmente Fessere scritto con
la penna dello Struzzo virgine con la quelle non sogliosi
scrivere quei Re che le pregiere a Dio e scrivendo a
qualche altro Principe del Mondo, la maggior Finezza
che usino, e scrivergli con la penna del Pavone.’
A Letter from the Emperor of China to the Pope,
interpreted by a Father Jesuit, Secretary of the Indies.
'Îo you blessed above the blessed, great Emperor of
Bishops, and Pastor of Christians, Dispenser of
the Oyl of the Kings of Europe, Clement XI.
The Favourite Friend of God Gionata the VIIth,
gnost powerful above the most powerful of the Earth,
’ highest
THE SPECTATOR 267
highest above the highest under the Sun and Moon, No. 545.
who sits on a Throne of Emerald of China, above 100 Tuesdasy.
Steps of Gold, to interpret the Language of God to the ‘ 2 ‘
Faithful, and who gives Life and Death to 115 Kingdoms, '
and 170 Islands; he writes with the Quill of a Virgin
Ostrich, and sends Health and Increase of old Age.
Being arrived at the Time of our Age, in which the
Flower of our Royal Youth ought to ripen into Fruit
toward old Age, to comfort therewith the Desire of
our devoted People, and to propagate the Seed of that
Plant which must protect them: We have determined
to accompan our selves with an high Amorous Virgin,
suckled at t e Breast of a wild Lioness, and a meek
Lamb: And imagining with our selves that your
European Roman People is the Father of many un/
conquerable and chaste Ladies, We stretch out our
powerful Arm to embrace one of them, and she shall
be one of your Nieces, or the Niece of some other great
Latin Priest, the Darling of God's Right Eye. Let the
Authority of Sarah be sown in her, the Fidelity of
Esther, and the Wisdom of Abba. We would have
her Eye like that of a Dove, which may look upon
Heaven and Earth, with the Mouth of a Shell/Fish to
feed upon the Dew of the Morning: Her Age must
not exceed 200 Courses of the Moon; let her Stature
be equal to that of an Ear of green Corn, and her
Girth a Handful.
We will send our Mandarine's Embassadors to cloath
her, and to conduct her to us, and we will meet her
on the Bank of the great River, making her to leap
up into our Chariot. She may with us worship her
own God, together with Twenty four Virgins of her own
Chusing, and she may Sing with them, as the Turtle
in the Spring. You, O Father and Friend, complying
with this our Desire, may be an Occasion of unit/
ing in perpetual Friendship our high Empire with your
European Kingdoms, and we may embrace your Laws,
as the Ivy embraces the Tree; and we our selves may
scatter our Royal Blood into your Provinces, warming
the chief of your Princes with the amorous Fire of

our Amazons, the resembling Pictures of some of
which
268 THE SPECTATOR
NO: Tuesda ,
Nov: 2 |
1712.
which our said Mandarine's Embassadors shall convey
to you.
We exhort you to keep in Peace two good Religious
Families of Missionaries, the black Sons of Ignatius,
and the white and black Sons of Dominicus, that the
Counsel both of the one and the other may serve as
a Guide to us in our Government, and a Light to
interpret the Divine Law, as the Oyl cast into the Sea
produces Light.
To conclude, we rising up in our Throne to embrace
you, we declare you our Ally and Confederate; and have
ordered this Leaf to be Sealed with our Imperial Signet,
in our Royal City, the Head of the World, the 8th Day
of the third Lunation, and the 4th Year of our Reign.’
Letters from Rome say, the whole Conversation both
among Gentlemen and Ladies has turned upon the
Subject of this Epistle ever since it arrived. The Iesuit
who translated it says, it loses much of the Majesty of
the Original in the Italian. It seems there was an
Offer of the same Nature made by a Predecessor of the
present Emperor to Lewis the XIIIth of France, but no
Lady of that Court would take the Voyage, that Sex
not being at that Time so much used in politick
Negociations. The Manner of Treating the Pope is
according to the Chinese Ceremonial, very respectful.
For the Emperor writes to him with the Quill of a
Virgin Ostrich, which was never used before but in
Writing Prayers. Instructions are preparing for the
Lady who shall have so much Zeal as to undertake
this Pilgrimage, and be an Empress for the Sake of her
Religion. The Principal of the Indian Missionaries
has given in a List of the reigning Sins in China, in
Order to prepare the Indulgencies necessary to this Lady
and her Retinue, in advancing the Interests of the
Roman Catholick Religion in those Kingdoms.
‘ To the SPECTATOR/GENERAL;
May it please your Honour,
I have of late seen French Hats of a prodigious
Magnitude pass by my Observatory.
T john Sly.’
Wednesday
THE SPECTATOR 269
NO. NO: [STEELE] Wednesday, November 26. zine”
Omnia patefacienda at ne quid omnino, quod venditor norit, NO“ 26:
emptor ignore t.——Tull. 1712.
T gives me very great Scandal to observe, where/
ever I go, how much Skill, in buying all Manner
of Goods, there is necessary to defend your self from
being cheated in whatever you see exposed to Sale. My
Reading makes such a strong Impression upon me, that
I should think my self a Cheat in m Way if I should
translate any thing from another ongue, and not
acknowledge it to my Readers. I understood from
common Report, that Mr. Cibber was introducing a
French Play upon our Stage, and thought my self com
cerned to let the Town know what was his and what
foreign. When I came to the Rehearsal, I found the
House so partial to one of their own Fraternity, that
they gave ever thing which was said such Grace,
Emphasis, and Force in their Action, that it was no
easie Matter to make any Judgment of the Performance.
Mrs. Oldfield, who, it seems, is the heroick Daughter,
had so just a Conception of her Part, that her Action
made what she spoke appear decent, just, and noble. The
Passions of Terrour and Compassion, they made me
believe, were very artftu raised, and the whole Con.
duct of the Play artful and surprizing. We Authors
do not much relish the Endeavours of Players in this
kind, but have the same Disdain as Physicians and
Lawyers ‘have when Attornies and Apothecaries give
Advice. Cibber himself took the Liberty to tell me
that he expected I would do him Justice, and allow the
Play well prepared for his Spectators, whatever it was
for his Readers. He added very many Particulars not
uncurious concerning the Manner of taking an Audience,
and laying wait not only for their superficial Applause,
but also for insinuating into their Affections and Passions
by the artful Management of the Look, Voice, and Gesture
of the Speaker. Icould not but consent that the heroick
Daughter appeared in the Rehearsal a moving Enter»
tainment wrought out of a great and exemplary Virlttiile.
e

270 THE SPECTATOR
0.
ednes/
ov.26.
I
The Advantages of Action, Show, and Dress on these
Occasions are allowable, because the Merit consists in
bein capable of imposing upon us to our Advantage
and ntertainment. All that I was going to say about
the Honesty of an Author in the Sale of his Ware was,
that he ought to own all that he had borrowed from
others, and lay in a clear Light all that he gives his
Spectators for their Mony, with an Account of the first
Manufacturers. But I intended to give the Lecture of
this Day upon the common and prostituted Behaviour
of Traders in ordinary Commerce. The Philosopher
made it a Rule of Trade, that your Profit ought to be the
common Profit; and it is unjust to make any Step
towards Gain, wherein the Gain of even those to whom
ou sell is not also consulted. A Man may deceive
'mself if he thinks fit, but he is no better than a Cheat
who sells any thing without telling the Exceptions
a ainst it, as well as what is to be said to its Advantage.
he scandalous Abuse of Language and hardening of
Conscience which may be observed every Day in going
from one Place to another, is what makes a whole City
to an unprejudiced Eye a Den of Thieves. It was no
small Pleasure to me for this Reason to remark, as I
passed by Cornhfl]. that the Shop of that worthy honest,
though lately unfortunate Citizen, Mr. john Moreton, so
well known in the Linnen Trade, is fitting up anew.
Since a Man has been in a distressed Condition, it ought
to be a great Satisfaction to have passed through it in
such a Manner as not to have lost the Friendship of
those who suffered with him, but to receive an honour!
able Acknowledgment of his Honesty from those very
Persons to whom the Law had consigned his Estate.
The Misfortune of this Citizen is like to prove of a
very general Advantage to those who shall deal with
him hereafter: For the Stock with which he now sets
up being the Loan of his Friends, he cannot expose that
to the Hazards of giving Credit, but enters into a Ready;
Mony Trade, by which Means he will both buy and
sell the best and cheapest. He imposes upon himself
a Rule of affixing the Value of each Piece he sells to
the Piece it self; so that the most ignorant Servant <13
Chi
THE SPECTATOR 271
Child will be as good a Buyer at his Shop as the most No. 546.
skillful in the Trade. For all which you have all his Wedflev
Hopes and Fortune for your Security. To encourage g?“ 26
Dealing after this Way, there is not only the avoiding 173: '
the most infamous Guilt in ordinary Bartering; but this
Observation, That he who buys with ready Mony saves
as much to his Family, as the State exacts out of his
Land for the Security and Service of his Country; that
is to say, in plain English, Sixteen will do as much
as Twenty Shillings.
‘Mr. SPECTATOR,
My Heart is so swelled with grateful Sentiments on
Account of some Favours which I have lately received,
that I must beg Leave to give them Utterance amongst
the Crowd of other anonymous Correspondents; and
Writing, I hope, will be as great a Relief to my forced
Silence, as it is to your natural Taciturnity My
generous Benefactor will not suffer me to speak to him
in any Terms of Acknowledgment, but ever treats
me as if he had the greatest Obligations, and uses me
with a Distinction that is not to be expected from one
so much my Superior in Fortune, Years, and Under/
standin . He insinuates, as if I had a certain Right
to his avours from some Merit, which his particular
Indulgence to me has discovered; but that is only a
beautiful Artifice to lessen the Pain an honest Mind
feels in receiving Obligations, when there is no Prob/
ability of returning them.
A Gift is doubled when accompanied with such a
Delicacy of Address; but what to me gives it an in!
expressible Value, is its coming from the Man I most
esteem in the World. It pleases me indeed as it is an
Advantage and Addition to my Fortune; but when I
consider it is an Instance of that good Man's Friend/
ship, it overjoys, it transports me: I look on it with
a Lover’s Eye, and no longer regard the Gift, but the
Hand that gave it. For my Friendship is so entirely
void of any gainful Views, that it often gives me Pain
to think it should have been chargeable to him; and
I cannot at some melancholy Hours help doing his
Generosity

272 THE SPECTATOR
o, 546.
ednes/
ov. 26,
712. ‘
Generosity the Injury of fearing it should cool on this
Account, and that the last Favour might be a sort of
Legacy of a departing Friendship.
I confess these Fears seem very groundless and unjust;
but you must forgive them to the Apprehension of one
possessed of a great Treasure, who is frighted at the
most distant Shadow of Danger.
Since I have thus far opened my Heart to you, I will
not conceal the secret Satisfaction I feel there of know/
ing the Goodness of my Friend will not be unrewarded.
I am pleased with thinking the Providence of the
Almighty hath sufficient Blessings in Store for him,
and“ will certainly discharge the Debt, tho' I am not
made the happy Instrument of doing it.
However, nothing in my Power shall be wanting to
shew my Gratitude; Iwill make it the Business of my
Life to thank him, and shall esteem (next to him) those
my best Friends, who give me the greatest Assistance
in this good Work. Printing this Letter would be
some little Instance of my Gratitude; and your Favour
herein will very much oblige
Your most Humble Servant, fie.
Novemb. 24.
T W. C.’
No. 547.
[ADDISONJ Thursday, November 27.
Si vuInus tibi monstra ta radice ve] herba
Non fieret Ievws, fugeres radice veI herba
Proficiente m'bJ'I curarier.-—Hor.
T is very difficult to praise a Man without putting
him out of Countenance. My following Corre/
spondent has found out this uncommon Art, and,
together with his Friends, has celebrated some of my
Speculations after such a concealed but diverting manner,
that if any of my Readers think I am to blame in Publish»
ing my own Commendations, they will allow I should
have deserved their Censure as much, had I suppressed
the Humour in which they are conveyed to me.
‘ Sir
THE SPECTATOR 273
‘ Sir,
I am often in a private Assembly of Wits of both
Sexes, where we generally descant upon your Specula/
tions, or upon the Subjects on which you have treated.
We were last Tuesday talking of those two Volumes
which you have lately Published. Some were com/
mending one of your Papers, and some another, and
there was scarce a single Person in the Company that
had not a favourite Speculation. Upon this a Man of
Wit and Learning told us, he thought it would not be
amiss if we paid the Spectator the same Compliment
that is often made in our Publick Prints to Sir William
Read, Dr. Grant, Mr. Moor the Apothecary, and other
eminent Physicians, where it is usual for the Patients
to Publish the Cures which have been made upon them,
and the several Distempers under which they laboured.
The Proposal took, and the Lady where we visited
having the two last Volumes in large Paper interleaved
for her own private use, ordered them to be brought
down, and laid in the Window, whither every one in
the Company retired, and writ down a particular Adverf
tisement in the Stile and Phrase of the like Ingenious
Compositions which we frequently meet with at the
end of our News/Papers. When we had finished our
Work, we read them with a great deal of Mirth at
the Fireside, and agreed, Nemine Contradicente. to et
them transcribed, and sent to the Spectator. he
Gentleman who made the Proposal entred the following
Advertisement before the Title Page, after which the
rest succeeded in order.
Remedium efficax 8 universum; or, An Effectual
Remedy adapted to all Capacities; shewing how any
Person may Cure himself of Ill/nature, Pride, Party!
Spleen, or any other Distemper incident to the Human
System, with an easie way to know when the Infection is
upon him. This Panacea is as innocent as Bread, agreeable
to the Taste, and requires no Confinement. It has not its
Equal in the Universe, as abundance of the Nobility and
Gentry throughout the Kingdom have experienced.
N. B. No Family ought to be without it.
IV. s Over
No. 547.
Thursday
Nov. 27 ,
1712.
274 THE SPECTATOR
No. 547. Over the two Spectators on fealousie, being the two first
Thumda')’, in the Third Volume.
27' I, William Crazy, aged Threescore and seven, having
been for several Years afflicted with uneasie Doubts,
Fears, and Vapours, occasioned by the Youth and Beauty
of Mary my Wife, aged Twenty five, do hereby for the
Benefit of the Publick give Notice, that I have found great
Relief from the two following Doses, having taken them
two Mornings together with a Dish of Chocolate.
Witness my hand. do.
For the Benefit of the Poor.
In Charity to such as are troubled with the Disease of
Levee/Haunting, and are forced to seek their Bread every
Morning at the Chamber Doors of great Men, I A. B. do
testifie, that for many Years past I laboured under this
fashionable Distemper, but was cured of it by a Remedy
which I bought of Mrs. Baldwin, contained in an Half
Sheet of Paper, marked N° 193. where any one may be
provided with the same Remedy at the price of a single
Penny.
An infallible Cure for Hypoconclriack Melancholy,
1512717351184. 191. 203. 209. 221. 233. 235. 239. 245.
Probatum est. Charles Basie.
I, Christopher Query having been troubled with a
certain Distemper in my Tongue, which shewed it self in
impertinent and superfluous Interrogatories, have not
asked one unnecessary Question since my Perusal of the
Prescription marked N° 228.
The Britannick Bea utifier. being an Essay on
Modesty, N° 231, which gives such a delightful Blushing
Colour to the Cheeks of those that are White or Pale, that
it is not to be distinguished from a natural fine Coma
plexion, nor perceived to be artificial by the nearest
Friend. Is nothing of Paint, or in the least hurtful. It
renders the Face delightfully handsome; is not subiect
to be rubb’d off, and cannot be parallell'd by either Wash,
Powder, Cosmetick, fie. It is certainly the best Beautifier
in the World.
Martha Glo worml.
THE SPECTATOR 275
I, Samuel Self, of the Parish of St james's, having a No. 547.
Constitution which naturally abounds with Acids, made Thursda
use of a Paper of Directions marked No 177, recom/ '
mending a healthful Exercise called Good/Nature, and '
have found it a most excellent Sweetner of the Blood.
Whereas I, Elizabeth Rainbow, was troubled with that
Distemper in my Head, which about a Year ago was
pretty Epidemical among the Ladies, and discovered it
self in the Colour of their Hoods, having made use of
the Doctor's Cephalick Tincture, which be exhibited to
the Publick in one of his last Year's Papers, I recovered
in a very few Days.
1, George Gloom, have for a long time been
troubled with the Spleen, and being advised by my
Friends to put my self into a Course of Stee'le, did for
that end make use of Remedies conveyed to me several
Mornings in short Letters, from the Hands of the
invisible Doctor. They were marked at the bottom,
Nathaniel Henroost, Alice Threadneedle, Rebecca
Nettletop, Tom Loveless, Mary Meanwell, Thomas
Smoaky, Anthony Freeman, Tom. Maggot, Rustick
Sprightly, 8c. which have had so good an Effect upon
me, that I now find my self chearful, lightsome and
easie; and therefore do recommend them to all such as
labour under the same Distemper.’
Not having room to insert all the Advertisements
which were sent me, I have only picked out some few
from the Third Volume, reserving the Fourth for another
Opportunity. O
No. 548.
Friday, November 28.
Vitiis nemo sine nascitur; optimus ille est,
Oui minimis urgetur.—Hor.
'Mr. SPscrAToR, Nov. 27, 1712.
I HAVE read this Day's Paper with a great deal of
Pleasure, and could send you an Account of several
Elixirs and Antidotes in your Third Volume, which your
Correspondents have not taken Notice of in their Adver.
tisements

276 THE SPECTATOR
1o. 548.
irida ,
Jov. 8,
tisements; and at the same time must own to you, that I
have seldom seen a Shop furnished with such a Variety
of Medicaments, and in which there are fewer Soporifics.
The several Vehicles you have invented for conveying
our unacceptable Truths to us, are what I most particu/
iarly admire, as I am afraid they are Secrets which will
die with you. I do not find that any of your Critical Essays
are taken Notice of in this Paper, notwithstanding I look
upon them to be excellent Cleansers of the Brain, and could
venture to superscribe them with an Advertisement
which I have lately seen in one of our News Papers,
wherein there is an Account given of a Soveraign
Remedy for restoring the Taste of all such Persons whose
Palates have been vitiated by Distempers, unwholesome
Food, or any the like Occasions. But to let fall the
Allusion, notwithstanding your Criticisms, and parti/
cularly the Candour which you have discovered in them,
are not the least taking Part of your Works, I find your
Opinion concerning Poetical justice, as it is expressed
in the first Part of your Fortieth Spectator, is contro/
verted by some eminent Criticks; and as you now seem,
to our great Grief of Heart, to be winding up your
Bottoms, I hoped you would have enlarged a little upon
that Subject. It is indeed but a single Paragraph in your
Works, and I believe those who have read it with the
same Attention I have done, will think there is nothing
to be objected against it. I have however drawn up some
Additional Arguments to strengthen the Opinion which
you have there delivered, having endeavoured to go to
the Bottom of that Matter, which you may either publish
or suppress as you think fit.
Horace in my Motto says, that all Men are vicious,
and that they differ from one another, only as they are
more or less so. Boileau has given the same Account
of our Wisdom as Horace has of our Virtue.
Tous les hommes scnt fous et, malgré tous Ieurs soins,
Ne different entre eux, que du plus cu du mains.
All Men, says he, are Fools, and in spight of their
Endeavours to the contrary, differ from one another only
as they are more or less so.
Two
THE SPECTATOR 277
Two or three of the old Greek Poets have Igiven the No. 548.
same turn to a Sentence which describes the appiness gfldag.
of Man in this Life; 173’" 8'
Tb Zfiv uhi'mog évfipds fo'nv eiv-ruxofls.
That Man is most happy who is the least miserable. It
will not perhaps be unentertaining to the Polite Reader,
to observe how these three beautiful Sentences are formed
upon different Subjects by the same way of thinking; but
I shall return to the first of them.
Our Goodness being of a comparative, and not an
absolute Nature, there is none who in strictness can be
called a Virtuous Man. Every one has in him a natural
Alloy, tho’ one may be fuller of Dross than another;
For this Reason I cannot think it right to introduce a
perfect or a faultless Man upon the Stage; not only
because such a Character is improper to move Com/
passion, but because there is no such thing in Nature.
This might probably be one reason why the SPECTATOR
in one of his Papers took notice of that late invented
Term called Poetical justice, and the wrong Notions
into which it has led some Tragick Writers. The most
perfect Man has Vices enough to draw down Punish/
ments upon his Head, and to justifie Providence in regard
to any Miseries that may befal him. For this Reason I
cannot think, but that the Instruction and Moral are much
finer, where a Man who is virtuous in the main of his
Character falls into Distress, and sinks under the Blows
of Fortune at the end of a Tragedy, than when he is
represented as Happy and Triumphant. Such an Ex/
ample corrects the Insolence of Human Nature, softens
the Mind of the Beholder with Sentiments of Pity and
Compassion, comforts him under his own private Af/
fliction, and teaches him not to judge of Men’s Virtues
by their Successes. I cannot think of one real Hero in
all Antiquity so far raised above Human Infirmities, that
he might not be very naturally represented in a Tragedy
as plunged in Misfortunes and Calamities. The Poet may
still find out some prevailing Passion or Indiscretion in
his Character, and shew it in such a manner, as will
sufficiently acquit the Gods of any Injustice in his Suffer/
l
1383
278 THE SPECTATOR
10.21548.
1‘1 a
IOV: 3'8,
712.
ings. For, as Horace observes in my Text, the best
Man is faulty, tho' not in so great a degree as those whom
we generally call vicious Men.
If such a strict Poetical justice, as some Gentlemen
insist upon, was to be observed in this Art, there is no
manner of Reason why it should not extend to Heroic
Poetry as well as a Tragedy. But we find it so little
observed in Homer, that his Achilles is placed in the
greatest point of Glory and Success, though his Character
is Morally Vicious, and only Poetically Good, if I may use
the Phrase of our Modern Criticks. The fEneid is filled with
Innocent unhappy Persons. Nisus and Eurial us, Lausus
and Pallas come all to unfortunate ends. The Poet takes
Notice in particular, that in the Sacking of Troy, Ripheus
fell, who was the most just Man among the Trojans,

cadit et Ripheus fustissimus unus
Oui fuit in Teucris et servantissimus aequi.
Dijs al1ter visum est

and that Pantheus could neither be preserved by his
transcendent Piety, nor by the holy Fillets of Apollo,
whose Priest he was
nec te tua plurima Pantheu
Labentem pietas, nec Apollinis insula texit.-——fEn. L. 2.

I might here mention the Practice of ancient Tragick
Poets, both Greek and Latin, but as this Particular is
touched upon in the Paper aboveamentioned, I shall pass
it over in Silence. I could produce Passages out of
Aristotle in favour of my Opinion, and if in one Place he
says that an absolutely Virtuous Man should not be repre/
sented as unhappy, this does not justifle, any one who
shall think fit to bring in an absolutely ‘ virtuous Man
upon the Stage. Those who are acquainted with that
Author’s way of writing know very well, that to take
the whole Extent of his Subject into his Divisions of it,
he often makes use of such Cases as are imaginary, and
not reducible to Practice: He himself declares that such
Tragedies as ended unhappily bore away the Prize in
Theatrical Contentions, from those which ended happily;
and for the Fortieth Speculation, which I am now con;
sidering, as it has given Reasons why these are more apt
to
THE SPECTATOR 279
to please an Audience, so it only proves that these are No. 548.
generally preferable to the other, tho’ at the same time Pris-lag,
it affirms that many excellent Tragedies have and may ’ '
be written in both kinds, '
I shall conclude with observing, that tho' the Spectator
above/mentioned is so far against the Rule of Poetical
Justice as to affirm that good Men may meet with an
unhappy Catastrophe in Tragedy, it does not say that
ill Men may go off unpunish'd. The Reason for this
Distinction is very plain, namely, because the best of
Men are vicious enough to iustifie Providence for any
Misfortunes and Afflictions which may befall them, but
there are many Men so Criminal that they can have no
Claim or Pretence to Happiness. The best of Men may
deserve Punishment, but the worst of Men cannot deserve

Happiness.’
No. 549,
[ADDISONI] Saturday, November 29-
Quamvr's digress!) vetez'z's confusus amici,
Laudo (amen—w,—]uv.
BELIEVE most People begin the World with a
Resolution to withdraw from it into a serious kind of
Solitude or Retirement, when they have made themselves
easie in it, Our Unhappiness is, that we find out some
Excuse or other for deferring such our good Resolutions
till our intended Retreat is cut off by Death. But among
all kinds of People there are none who are so hard to
part with the World, as those who are grown old in the
heaping up of Riches, Their Minds are so warped with
their constant Attention to Gain, that it is very difficult for
them to give their Souls another Bent, and convert them
towards these Objects, which, though they are proper
for every Stage of Life, are so more especially for the
last, Horace describes an old Usurer as so charmed
with the Pleasures of a Country Life, that in order to
make a Purchase he called in all his Mony; but what
was the event of it? Why in a very few days after he
put it out again. I am engaged in this Series of Thought
by a Discourse which I had last Week with my vigorthy
riend
280 THE SPECTATOR
lo. 549.
aturday,
lov. 29,
712.
Friend Sir ANDREW FRBEPoRT, a Man of so much natural
Eloquence, good Sense, and Probity of Mind, that I always
hear him with a particular Pleasure. As we were sitting
together, being the sole remaining Members of our Club,
Sir ANDREW gave me an Account of the many busie
Scenes of Life in which he had been engaged, and at the
same time reckoned up to me abundance of those lucky
Hits, which at another time he would have called pieces
of good Fortune; but in the Temper of Mind he was
then, he termed them Mercies, Favours of Providence,
and Blessings upon an honest Industry. Now, says he,
you must know, my good Friend, I am so used to con.
sider my self as Creditor and Debtor, that I often state
my Accounts after the same manner, with regard to
Heaven and my own Soul. In this case, when I look
upon the Debtor/side, I find such innumerable Articles,
that I want Arithmetick to cast them up; but when I
look upon the Creditor/side, I find little more than blank
Paper. Now tho' I am very well satisfied that it is not
in my Power to ballance Accounts with my Maker, I
am resolved however to turn all my future Endeavours
that way. You must not therefore be surprized, my
Friend, if you hear that I am betaking my self to a more
thoughtful kind of Life, and if I meet you no more in
this Place.
I could not but approve so good a Resolution, not/
withstanding the Loss I shall suffer by it. Sir ANDREW
has since explained himself to me more at large in the
following Letter, which is just come to my Hands.
‘ Good Mr. SPECTATOR,
Notwithstand' my Friends at the Club have always
rallied me, when have talked of retiring from Business,
and repeated to me one of my own Sayings, that a
Merchant has never enough till he has got a little
more, I can now inform you that there is one in the
World who thinks he has enough, and is determined to
pass the Remainder of his Life in the Enjoyment of what
he has. You know me so well, that I need not tell you,
I mean, by the Enjoyments of my Possessions, the making
of them useful to the Publick. As the greatest Part céf my
state
THE SPECTATOR 281
Estate has been hitherto of an unsteady and volatile No. 549.
Nature, either tost upon Seas or fluctuating in Funds; SaturdaYI
it is now fixt and setled in Substantial Acres and 17g:
Tenements. I have removed it from the Uncertainty of
Stocks, Winds and Waves, and disposed of it in a consider/
able Purchase. This will give me great Opportunity of
being charitable in my way, that is in setting my poor
Neighbours to Work, and iving them a comfortable
Subsistence out of their own§ndustry. My Gardens, my
Fishponds, my Arable and Pasture Grounds shall be my
several Hospitals, or rather Work / houses, in which I
propose to maintain a great many indigent Persons, who
are now starving in my Neighbourhood. I have got
a fine Spread of improveable Lands, and in my own
Thoughts am already plowing up some of them, fencing
others; planting Woods, and draining Marshes. In fine,
as I have my Share in the Surface of this Island, I am
resolved to make it as beautiful a Spot as any in Her
Majesty's Dominions; at least there is not an Inch of it
which shall not be cultivated to the best Advantage, and
do its utmost for its Owner. As in my Mercantile Em/
ployment I so disposed of my Affairs, that from whatever
Corner of the Compass the Wind blew, it was bringing
home one or other of my Ships; I hope, as a Husband/
man, to contrive it so, that not a Shower of Rain, or a
Glimpse of Sun/shine, shall fall upon my Estate without
bettering some part of it, and contributing to the Products
of the Season. You know it has been hitherto my
Opinion of Life, that it is thrown away when it is not
some way useful to others. But when I am riding out by
my self, in the fresh Air on the open Heath that lies by
my House, I find several other Thoughts growing up in
me. I am now of Opinion, that a Man of my Age may
find Business enough on hirnself, by setting his Mind
in order, preparing it for another World, and reconciling
it to the Thoughts of Death. I must, therefore, acquaint
you, that besides those usual Methods of Charity, of which
I have before spoken, I am at this very Instant finding out
a convenient Place where I may build an Alms/house,
which I intend to endow very handsomely, for a Dozen
superannuated Husbandmen. It will be a great Pleasure
t0
282 THE SPECTATOR
i. 539.
tur ay
av. 29,’
I2.
to me to say my Prayers twice a Day with Men of my
own Years, who all of them, as well as my self, may have
their Thoughts taken up how they shall die, rather than
how they shall live. I remember an excellent Saying
that I learned at School, Finis coronat opus. You know
best whether it be in Virgil or in Horace; it is my
business to apply it. If your Affairs will permit you to
take the Country Air with me sometimes, you shall find
an Apartment fitted up for you, and shall be every Day
entertained with Beef or Mutton of my own feeding; Fish
out of my own Ponds; and Fruit out of my own Gardens.
You shall have free Egress and Regress about my House,
without having any Questions asked you, and in a Word
such an hearty Welcome as you may expect from
Your most Sincere Friend
and humble Servant,
ANDREW FREE—:Poim’
The Club of which I am a Member being entirely
dispersed, I shall consult my Reader next Week, upon a
Project relating to the Institution of a new one.
No. 550.
[ADDISON.] Monday, December 1.
Quid dignum tanto feret hie promissor HIATU l—Hor.
INCE the late Dissolution of the Club whereof I have
often declared my self a Member, there are very
many Persons who by Letters, Petitions, and Recom/
mendations, put up for the next Election. At the same
Time I must complain, that several indirect and under/
hand Practices have been made use of upon this Occasion.
A certain Country Gentleman begun to tapp upon the
first Information he received of Sir Rooms Death, when
he sent me up Word, that if I would get him chosen in
the Place of the Deceased, he would present me with a
Barrel of the best October I had ever drank in my Life.
The Ladies are in great Pain to know whom I intend
to elect in the Room of WILL. HONEYCOMBE. Some of them
indeed are of Opinion that Mr. HONEYCOMBB did not take
sufficient Care of their Interests in the Club, and are
therefore desirous of having in it hereafter a Represen/
tative
THE SPECTATOR 283
tative of their own Sex. A Citizen, who subscribes No. 550.
himself Y. Z, tells me that he has one and twenty Mmda)’.
Shares in the African Company, and offers to bribe me
with the odd one in case he may succeed Sir ANDREW '
PREEPORT, which he thinks would raise the Credit of that
Fund. I have several Letters dated from jenny Man's,
by Gentlemen who are Candidates for Captain SENTREY'S
Place, and as many from a Coffee ~house in Paul's
Church/yard, of such who would fill up the Vacancy
occasioned by the Death of my worthy Friend the
Clergyman, whom I can never mention but with a
particular Respect.
Having maturer weighed these several Particulars,
with the many Remonstrances that have been made to
me on this Subject, and considering how invidious an
Office I shall take upon me if I make the whole Election
depend upon my single Voice, and being unwilling to
expose my self to those Clamours, which, on such an
Occasion, will not fail to be raised against me for Par/
tiality, Injustice, Corruption, and other Qualities which
my Nature abhors, I have formed to my self the Project
of a Club as follows.
I have Thoughts of issuing out Writs to all and every
of the Clubs that are established in the Cities of London
and Westminster, requiring them to chuse out of their
respective Bodies a Person of the greatest Merit, and to
return his Name to me before Lady/day, at which Time
I intend to sit upon Business.
By this Means I may have Reason to hope, that the
Club over which I shall preside will be the very Flower
and Quintessence of all other Clubs. I have communi»
cated this my Project to none but a particular Friend of
mine, whom I have celebrated twice or thrice for his
Happiness in that kind of Wit which is commonly
known by the Name of a Punn. The only Objection
he makes to it is, that I shall raise up Enemies to my
self if I act with so regal an Air; and that my Detractors,
instead of giving me the usual Title of SPECTATOR, will be
apt to call me the King of Clubs.
But to proceed on my intended Project: It is very
well known that I at first set forth in this Work wtihth
e
284 THE SPECTATOR
i0: [onday,
tee. 1,
’12.
the Character of a silent Man; and I think I have so
well preserved my Taciturnity, that I do not remember
to have violated it with three Sentences in the Space of
almost two Years. As a Monosyllable is my Delight,
I have made very few Excursions in the Conversations
which I have related beyond a Yes or a No. By this
Means my Readers have lost many good things which
{h have had in my Heart, tho' I did not care for uttering
em.
Now in order to diversify my Character, and to shew
the World how well I can talk if I have a Mind, I have
Thoughts of being very loquacious in the Club which
I have now under Consideration. But that I may proceed
the more regularly in this Affair, I design upon the first
Meeting of the said Club to have my Mouth opened in
Form, intending to regulate my self in this Particular
by a certain Ritual which I have by me, that contains
all the Ceremonies which are practised at the opening
of the Mouth of a Cardinal. I have likewise examined
the Forms which were used of old by Pythagoras, when
any of his Scholars, after an Apprenticeship of Silence,
was made free of his Speech. In the mean Time, as
I have of late found my Name in foreign Gazettes
upon less Occasions, I question not but in their next
Articles from Great Britain, they will inform the World
that the SPECTATOR'S Mouth is to be opened on the twenty
fifth of March next. I ma perhaps publish a very useful
Paper at that Time of the roceedings in that Solemnity,
and of the Persons who shall assist at it. But of this more
hereafter.
No. 551.
Tuesday, December 2.
Sic honor 5 nomen divinis vatibus atque
Carminibus venit.—Hor.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
WHEN Men of worthy and excelling Genius's have
obliged the World with beautiful and instructive
Writings, it is in the Nature of Gratitude that Praise
should be returned them, as one proper coniequztndt
ew
THE SPECTATOR 285
Reward of their Performances. Nor has Mankind ever No, 551,
been so degenerately sunk but they have made this Tuesday.
Return, and even when they have not been wrought 2'
up by the generous Endeavour so as to receive the '
Advantages designed by it. This Praise, which arises
first in the Mouth of particular Persons, spreads and
lasts according to the Merit of Authors; and when it
thus meets with a full Success, changes its Denomina/
tion, and is called Fame. They who have happily
arrived at this, are, even, while they live, enflamed
by the Acknowledgments of others, and spurred on to
new Undertakings for the Benefit of Mankind, notwith/
standing the Detraction which some abject Tempers
would cast upon them: But when they decease, their
Characters being freed from the Shadow which Envy
laid them under, begin to shine out with greater
Splendour; their Spirits survive in their Works; they
are admitted into the highest Companies, and they
continue pleasing and instructing Posterity from Age
to Age. Some of the best gain a Character, by being
able to shew that they are no Strangers to them; and
others obtain a new Warmth to labour for the Happi/
ness and Base of Mankind, from a Reflection upon
those Honours which are paid to their Memories.
The Thought of this took me up as I turned over
those Epigrams which are the Remains of several of
the Wits of Greece, and perceived many dedicated to
the Fame of those who had excelled in beautiful poetick
Performances. Wherefore, in Pursuance to my Thought,
I concluded to do something along with them to bring
their Praises into a new Light and Language, for the
Encouragement of those whose modest Tempers may
be deterred by the Fear of Envy or Detraction from
fair Attempts, to which their Parts might render them
equal. You will perceive them as they follow to be con/
ceived in the Form of Epitaphs, a sort of Writing which
is wholly set apart for a short pointed Method of Praise.
On Orpheus, written by Antipater.
No longer, Orpheus, shall thy sacred Strains
Lead Stones and Trees and Beasts along the Plains I
No
286 THE SPECTATOR
Q0. 55!.
Tuesday,
)ec, 2,
712,
No longer sooth the boistrous W'ind to sleep,
Or still the Billows of the raging Deep 1
For thou art gone, the Muses mourn’d thy Fall
In solemn Strains, thy Mother most of all,
Ye mortals, idly for your Sons ye moan,
If thus a Goddess cou'd not save her own,
Observe here, that if we take the Fable for ranted,
as it was believed to be in that Age when the pi ram
was written, the Turn appears to have Piet to the Gods,
and a resigning Spirit in its Application: ut if we con/
sider the Point with Respect to our present Knowledge,
it will be less esteemed; tho' the Author himself, be,
cause he believed it, may still be more valued than any
one who should now write with a Point of the same
Nature,
On Homer, by Alpheus of Mytilene,
Still in our Ears Andromache complains,
And still in Sight the Fate of 'Troy remains,
Still Ajax figh ts, still Hector 's dragg’d along,
Such strange Enchantment dwells in Homer's Song;
Whose Birth cou’d more than one poor Realm adorn,
For all the World is proud that he was born.
The Thought in the first Part of this is natural, and
depending upon the Force of Poesy: In the latter Part
it looks as if it would aim at the History of seven Towns
contending for the Honour of Homer’s Birth/place; but
when you expect to meet with that common Story, the
Poet slides by, and raises the whole World for a kind of
Arbiter, which is to end the Contention amongst its
several Parts,
On Anacreon, by Antipater,
This Tomb be thine, Anacreon; all around
Let Ivy wreath, let Plourets deck the Ground,
And from its Earth, enrich'd by such a Prize,
Let Wells of Milk and Streams of Wine arise 1
So will thine Ashes yet a Pleasure know,
If any Pleasure reach the Shades below, Th
e
THE SPECTATOR 287
The Poet here written upon is an easie gay Author,
and he who writes upon him has filled his own Head
with the Character of his Subject. He seems to love his
Theme so much, that he thinks of nothing but pleasing
him as if he were still alive, by entring into his libertine
Spirit; so that the Humour is easie and gay, resembling
Anacreon in its Air, raised by such Images, and pointed
with such a Turn as he might have used. I give it a
Place here, because the Author may have designed it for
his Honour; and I take an Opportunity from it to advise
others, that when they would praise, they cautiously
avoid every looser Qualification, and fix only where
there is a real Foundation in Merit.
On Euripides, by Ion.
Divine Euripides, this Tomb we see
.So fair, is not a Monument for thee
So much as thou for it, since all will own
Thy Name and lasting Praise adorns the Stone.
The Thought here is fine, but the Fault is that it is
general, that it may belong to any great Man, because it
points out no particular Character. It would be better,
if when we light upon such a Turn, we join it with some/
thing that circumscribes and bounds it to the Qualities of
our Subject. He who gives his Praise in gross, will often
appear either to have been a Stranger to those he writes
upon, or not to have found any thing in them which is
Praisewworthy.
On Sophocles, by Simonides.
Winde, gentle Ever/green. to form a Shade
Around the Tomb where Sophocles is laid;
Sweet Ivy winde thy Boughs, and intertwine
W'ith blushing Roses and the cl ustring Vine :
Thus will thy lasting Leaves with Beauties hung,
Prove grateful Emblems of the Lays be sung;
Whose Soul, exalted like a God of Wit,
Among the Muses and the Graces writ.
This Epigram I have opened more than any of the
former: The Thought towards the latter End seemed
closer
No. 551.
Tuesday,
ec. 2,
1712.
288 THE SPECTATOR
lo. 551.
'uesday,
ICC: 2'
712.
closer couched, so as to require an Explication. I fancy'd
the Poet aimed at the Picture which is generally made of
Apollo and the Muses, he sitti with his Harp in the
Middle, and they around him. his looked beautiful to
my Thought, and because the Image arose before me
out of the Words of the Original asI was reading it, I
ventured to explain them so.
On Menancler, the Author unnamed.
The very Bees, 0 sweet Menander, hung
To taste the Muses' Spring upon thy Tongue;
The very Graces made the Scenes you writ
Their happy Point of fine Expression hit.
Thus still you live, you make your Athens shine,
And raise its Glory to the Skies in thine.
This Epigram has a Respect to the Character of its
Subject; for Menander writ remarkably with a Iustness
and Purity of Language. It has also told the Country he
was born in, without either a set or a hidden Manner,
while it twists together the Glory of the Poet and his
Nation, so as to make the Nation depend upon his for an
Encrease of its own.
I will offer no more Instances at present to shew that
they who deserve Praise have it returned them from
different Ages. Let these which have been laid down
shew Men that Envy will not always prevail. And to
the End that Writers may more successfully enliven the
Endeavours of one another, let them consider, in some
such Manner as I have attempted, what may be the
iustest Spirit and Art of Praise. It is indeed very hard
to come up to it. Our Praise is trifling when it depends
upon Fable; it is false when it depends upon wrong
Qualifications; it means nothing when it is general; it is
extreamly difficult to hit when we propose to raise
Characters high, while we keep to them justly. I shall
end this with transcribing that excellent Epitaph of Mr.
Cowley, wherein, with a kind of grave and philosophick
Humour, he very beautifully speaks of himself (with;
drawn from the World, and dead to all the Interests of it)
as of a Man really deceased. At the same Time it is an
Instruction how to leave the Publick with a good Grace.
Epitaphium
THE SPECTATOR 289
Epitaphium Vivi Authoris.
Hie, O Viator, sub Lare parvulo
Couleius hic est conditus, hie facet
Defunctus humani Laboris
Sorte, supervacuaque Vita,
Non Indecora pauperie nitens,
Et non inerti Nobilis Otio,
Vanoque dilectis popello
Divitiis animosus hostis,
Possis ut iIIum dicere mortuum
En Terra jam nunc Quantula sufficit!
Exempta sit Curis, Viator,
Terra sit ilIa Ievis, precare,
Hie sparge Flores, sparge hreves Rosas,
Nam Vita gaudet Mortua Floribus,
Herbisque Odoratis Corona
Vatis adhuc Cinerem Calentem.
The Publication of these Criticisms having procured
me the following Letter from a very Ingenious Gentler
man, I cannot forbear inserting it in the Volume, tho' it
did not come sotm enough to have a Place in any of
my single Papers,
‘Mr. SPEcrAToR,
Having read over, in your Paper, N° 551, some of the
Epigrams made by the Grecian Wits, in Commendation
of their celebrated Poets; I could not forbear sending you
another, out of the same Collection, which I take to be
as great a Compliment to Homer, as any that has yet
been paid him.
Tfis “09’ 6 'rbv Tpoilqs “(Shep-0v, do,
Who first transcrib’d the famous Trojan War,
And wise Ulysses' Acts, 0 Jove make known 1
For, since 'tis certain, Thine those Poems are,
No more let Homer boast they are his own,
If you think it worthy of a Place in your Speculations,
for ought I know (by that means) it may in time be
Printed as often in English, as it has already been in
Greek, I am (like the rest of the World)
Sir
4th Decemb, ' Your great Admirer, G R
IV. '1‘ i The
290 THE SPECTATOR
jo. 551.
uesday,
712.
The Reader may observe that the Beauty of this
Epigram is different from that of any in the foregoing.
An Irony is looked upon as the finest Palliative of Praise;
and very often conveys the noblest Panegyric under the
Appearance of Satire. Homer is here seemingly accused
and treated as a Plagiary, but what is drawn up in the
form of an Accusation is certainly, as my Correspondent
observes, the greatest Compliment that could have been
paid to that Divine Poet.
’ Dear Mr. SPECTATOR,
I am a Gentleman of pretty good Fortune, and of a
Temper impatient of any thing which I think an Injury;
however, I always quarrelled according to Law, and instead
of attacking my Adversary by the dangerous Method of
Sword and Pistol, I made my Assaults by that more secure
one of Writ or Warrant. I cannot help telling you, that
either by the Justice of my Causes, or the Superiority of
my Counsel, I have been generally successful; and, to my
great Satisfaction I can say it, that by three Actions of
Slander, and half a Dozen Trespasses, I have for several
Years enjoyed a perfect Tranquillity in my Reputation
and Estate. By these Means also I have been made known
to the Judges, the Serjeants of our Circuit are my intimate
Friends, and the Ornamental Counsel pay a very profound
Respect to one who has made so great a Figure in the
Law. Affairs of Consequence having brought me to
Town, I had the Curiosity t' other Day to visit West.
minster/Hall ; and having placed my self in one of the
Courts, expected to be most agreeably entertained. After
the Court and Counsel were, with due Ceremony, seated,
up stands a Learned Gentleman and began, When this
Matter was last stirred before your Lordship: The next
humbly moved to quash an Indictment; another com.
plained that his Adversary had snapped a judgment; the
next informed the Court that his Client was stripped of
his Possession; another begged Leave to acquaint his
Lordship, they had been saddled with Costs. At last up
got a grave Serjeant, and told us, his Client had been hung
up a whole Term by a Writ of Error. At this I could
bear it no longer, but came hither, and resolved to apply
my
THE SPECTATOR 291
my self to your Honour to interpose with these Gentle/ No. 551.
men, that they would leave off such low and unnatural TuesdaYi
Expressions; For surely though the Lawyers subscribe 173' '
to hideous French and false La tin, yet they should let '
their Clients have a little decent and proper English for
their Mony. What Man that has Value for a good Name,
would like to have it said in a publick Court, that Mr. such/
a/one was stripped, saddled, or hung up? This being
what has escaped your Spectatorial Observation, be pleased
to correct such an illiberal Cant amongiprofessed Speakers,
and you ’ll infinitely oblige
Joe's Coffee/house, Your humble Servant,
November 28. Philonigus'
No. 552.
[STEELE] Wednesday, December 3.

Oui praegravat artes
Infra se positas, extmctus amahitur idem.—Hor.
S I was tumbling about the Town the other Day in
an Hackney/Coach, and delighting my self with busie
Scenes in the Shops on each Side of me, it came into my
Head, with no small Remorse, that I had not been frequent
enough in the Mention and Recommendation of the
industrious Part of Mankind. It very naturally, upon this
Occasion, touched my Conscience in particular, that I had
not acquitted my self to my Friend Mr. Peter Motteux.
That industrious Man of Trade, and formerly Brother of
the Quill, has dedicated to me a Poem upon Tea. It
would injure him, as a Man of Business, if I did not let
the World know that the Author of so good Verses writ
them before he was concerned in Traffick. In order to
expiate my Negligence towards him, I immediately re!
solved to make him a Visit. I found his spacious Ware/
houses filled and adorned with Tea, China, and Indian
Ware. I could observe a beautiful Ordonnance of the
Whole, and such different and considerable Branches of
Trade carried on in the same House, I exulted in seeing
disposed by a Poetical Head. In one Place were exposed
to view Silks of various Shades and Colours, rich Brocades,
292 THE SPECTATOR
~10. 552.
Wednes/
la ,
32;. 3,
712.
and the wealthiest Products of foreign Looms. Here you
might see the finest Laces held up by the fairest Hands;
and there examined by the beauteous Eyes of the Buyers
the most delicate Cambricks, Muslins, and Linnens. I
could not but congratulate my Friend on the humble,
but, I hoped, beneficial use he had made of his Talents,
and wished I could be a Patron to his Trade, as he
had pleased to make me of his Poetry. The honest Man
has, I know, that modest Desire of Gain which is peculiar
to those who understand better Things than Riches; and
I dare say he would be contented with much less than
what is called Wealth at that Quarter of the Town which
he inhabits, and will oblige all his Customers with
Demands agreeable to the Moderation of his Desires.
Among other Omissions of which I have been also
guilty with Relation to Men of Industry of a superior
Order, I must acknowledge my Silence towards a prop
posal frequently enclosed to me by Mr. Renatus Harris,
Organ/Builder. The Ambition of this Artificer is to
erect an Organ in St Paul's Cathedral over the West
Door at the Entrance into the Body of the Church, which
in Art and Magnificence shall transcend any Work of
that Kind ever before invented. The Proposal in per/
spicuous Language sets forth the Honour and Advantage
such a Performance would be to the British Name, as
well as that it would apply the Power of Sounds in a
Manner more amazingly forcible than, perhaps, has yet
been known, and I am sure to an End much more
worthy. Had the vast Sums which have been laid out
upon Operas without Skill or Conduct, and to no other
Purpose but to suspend or vitiate our Understandings,
been disposed this Way, we should now, perhaps, have an
Engine so formed as to strike the Minds of half a People
at once in a Place of Worship with a Forgetfulness of
present Care and Calamity, and a Hope of endless Rapture,
joy and Hallelujah hereafter.
When I am doing this Justice, I am not to forget the
best Mechanick of my Acquaintance, that useful Servant
to Science and Knowledge, Mr. john Rowley; but I think
I lay a great Obligation on the Publick, by acquainting
them with his Proposals for a Pair of new Globes.
After
THE SPECTATOR 293
After his Preamble, he promises in the said Proposals, No, 552.
that, Z;dnes/
In the Celestial Globe, Dec'. 3,
‘Care shall be taken that the Fixed Stars be placed 1712'
according to their true Longitude and Latitude, from the
many and correct Observations of He velius, Cassini, Mr,
Flamsteed, Reg, Astronomer, Dr, Halley, Sa vilian Pro/
fessor of Geometry in Gran; and from whatever else
can be procured to render the Globe more exact, in/
structive, and useful,
That all the Constellations be drawn in a curious, new,
and particular Manner; each Star is so just, distinct, and
conspicuous a Proportion, that its Magnitude may be
readily known by bare Inspection, according to the
different Light and Sizes of the Stars, That the Tract or
Way of such Comets as have been well observed, but
not hitherto expressed in any Globe, be carefully deline/
ated in this.’
In the Terrestrial Globe,
‘That by reason the Descriptions formerly made, both
in the English or Dutch great Globes, are Erroneous,
Asia, Africa, and America be Drawn in a Manner
wholly new; by which Means it is to be noted, that the
Undertakers will be obliged to alter the Latitude of some
Places in 10 Degrees, the Longitude of others in 20
Degrees; Besides which great and necessary Alterations,
there be many remarkable Countries, Cities, Towns,
Rivers, and Lakes, omitted in other Globes, inserted
here according to the best Discoveries made by our late
Navigators, Lastly, that the Course of the Trade/Winds,
the Monsoons and other Winds periodically shifting
between the Tropicks, be visibly expressed,
Now in Regard that this Undertaking is of so universal
Use, as the Advancement of the most necessary Parts of
the Mathematicks, as well as tending to the Honour of the
British Nation, and that the Charge of carrying it on is
very expensive, it is desired that all Gentlemen who are
willing‘ to promote so great a Work, will be pleased to
subscribe the following Conditions, L
294 THE SPECTATOR
On
ednes/
av,
e C.
712.
I. The Undertakers engage to furnish each Subscriber
with a Celestial and Terrestial Globe, each of 30 Inches
Diameter, in all Respects curiously adorned, the Stars
gilded, the Capital Cities plainly distinguished, the Frames,
Meridians, Horizons, Hour Circles and Indexes so exactly
finished up and accurately divided, that a Pair of these
Globes will really appear, in the Judgment of any dis.
interested and intelligent Person, worth fifteen Pounds
more than will be demanded for them by the Under/
takers.
II. Whosoever will be pleased to Subscribe, and pay
Twenty Five Pounds in the manner following for a Pair
of these Globes, either for their own Use, or to present
them to any College in the Universities, or any publick
Library or School, shall have his Coat of Arms, Name,
Title, Seat, or Place of Residence, dc. inserted in some
convenient Place of the Globe.
III. That every Subscriber do at first pay down the
Sum of Ten Pounds, and Fifteen Pounds more upon the
Delivery of each Pair of Globes perfectly fitted up: And
that the said Globes be delivered within Twelve Months
after the Number of Thirty Subscribers be compleated;
and that the Subscribers be served with Globes in the
Order in which they subscribed.
IV. That a Pair of these Globes shall not hereafter be
sold to any Person but the Subscribers under Thirty
Pounds.
V. That if there be not thirty Subscribers within four
Months after the first of December, 1712, the Money
paid shall be returned on Demand by Mr. john Warner,
Goldsmith, near Temple Bar, who shall receive and pay
the same according to the abovewmentioned Articles.’

No. 553.
[ADDISON]
Nec lusisse pudet, sed non incidere ludum.--Hor.
THE Project which I published on Monday last has
brought me in several Packets of Letters. Among
the rest I have received one from a certain Projector,
wherein after having represented, that in all probabiltihty
e
Thursday, December 4.
THE SPECTATOR 295
the Solemnity of opening my Mouth will draw together No. 553.
a great Confluence of Beholders, he proposes to me the Thursday
hiring of Sta tioner’s/Hall for the more convenient ex/ '
hibiting of that Publick Ceremony. He undertakes to be '
at the Charge of it himself, provided he may have the
erecting of Galleries on every side, and the letting of them
out upon that Occasion. I have a Letter also from a
Bookseller, petitioning me in a very humble manner, that
he may have the Printing of the Speech which I shall
make to the Assembly upon the first opening of my
Mouth. I am informed from all Parts, that there are
great Canvassings in the several Clubs about Town, upon
the chusing of a proper Person to sit with me on those
arduous Affairs to which I have summoned them. Three
Clubs have already proceeded to Election, whereof one
has made a double Return. If I find that my Enemies
shall take Advantage of my Silence to begin Hostilities
upon me, or if any other Exigency of Affairs may so
require, since I see Elections in so great a forwardness,
we may possibly meet before the Day appointed; or if
Matters go on to my Satisfaction, I may perhaps put off
the Meeting to a further Day; but of this Publick Notice
shall be given.
In the mean time, I must confess that I am not a little
gratified and obliged by that Concern which appears in
this great City, upon my present Design of laying down
this Paper. It is likewise with much Satisfaction, thatI
find some of the most outlying Parts of the Kingdom
alarmed upon this Occasion, having received Letters to
expostulate with me about it, from several of my Readers
of the remotest Boroughs of Great Britain. Among these
I am very well pleased with a Letter dated from Berwick
upon Tweed, wherein my Correspondent compares the
Office which I have for some time executed in these
Realms, to the Weeding of a great Garden; which, says
be, it is not sufficient to weed once for all, and afterwards
to give over, but that the Work must be continued daily,
or the same Spots of Ground which are cleared for a
while, will in a little time be over/run as much as ever.
Another Gentleman lays before me several Enormities
that are already sprouting, and which he believes will
discover
296 THE SPECTATOR
'o. 553. discover themselves in their full Growth immediately after
humda‘fv my Disappearance, There is no doubt, says he, but the
'ec. 4,
'12,
Ladies' Heads will shoot up as soon as they know they
are no longer under the Spectator’s Eye; and I have
already seen such monstrous broad/brimmed Hats under
the Arms of Foreigners, that I question not but they will
overshadow the Island within a Month or two after the
dropping of your Paper. But among all the Letters which
are come to my Hands, there is none so handsomely
written as the following one, whichI am the more pleased
with, as it is sent me from Gentlemen who belong to a
Body which I shall always Honour, and where (I cannot
speak it without a secret Pride) my Speculations have met
with a very kind Reception, It is usual for Poets upon
the Publishing of their Works, to Print before them such
Copies of Verses as have been made in their Praise. Not
that you must imagine they are pleased with their own
Commendations, but because the elegant Compositions of
their Friends should not be lost, I must make the same
Apology for the Publication of the ensuing Letter, in
which I have suppressed no part of those Praises that are
given my Speculations with too lavish and goodwnatured
an Hand, though my Correspondents can witness for
me, that at other times I have generally blotted out those
Parts in the Letters which I have received from them,
‘Mr, SPECTATOR, Oxford, Nov. 25.
In spight of your Invincible Silence you have found
out a Method of being the most agreeable Companion in
the World: That kind of Conversation which you hold
with the Town, has the ood Fortune of being always
pleasing to the Men of aste and Leisure, and never
offensive to those of Hurry and Business, You are never
heard, but at what Horace calls dextro tem pore, and have
the Happiness to observe the Politick Rule, which the same
discerning Author gave his Friend, when he enioyn'd
him to deliver his Book to Augustus,
Si vaiidus, si Iaetus erit, si denique poscet.
You never begin to talk, but when People are desirous
to hear you; and I defie any one to be out of Humoulri
ti
THE SPECTATOR 297
till you leave off. But I am led unawares into Re; No. 553.
flections, foreign to the Original Design of this Epistle; Thursday
which was to let you know, that some unfeigned 173' '
Admirers of your inimitable Papers, who could, with/ '
out any Flattery, greet you with the Salutation used
to the Eastern Monarchs, viz. O Spec, live for ever,
have lately been under the same Apprehensions with
Mr. PbiIo/Spec; that the Haste you have made to
dispatch your best Friends, portends no long Duration
to your own short Visage. We could not, indeed, find
any just Grounds for Complaint in the Method you
took to dissolve that venerable Body; No, the World
was not worthy of your Divine. WILL HONEYCOMB
could not, with any Reputation, live single any longer.
It was high time for the TEMPLAR to turn himself to
Cook. And Sir ROGER'S dying was the wisest thing he
ever did in his Life. It was, however, Matter of great
Grief to us, to think that we were in danger of losing
so Elegant and Valuable an Entertainment. And we
could not, without Sorrow, reflect that we were likely
to have nothing to interrupt our Sips in the Morning,
and to suspend our Coffee in mid/air, between our Lips
and right Ear, but the ordinary Trash of News/papers.
We resolved, therefore, not to part with you so. But
since, to make use of your own Allusion, the Cherries
began now to crowd the Market, and their Season was
almost over, we consulted our future Enjoyments, and
endeavoured to make the exquisite Pleasure that de/
licious Fruit gave our Taste as lasting as we could,
and by drying them protract their Stay beyond its
natural Date. We own that thus they have not a
Flavour equal to that of their juicy Bloom; but yet,
under this Disadvantage, they pique the Palate, and
become a Salver better than any other Fruit at its first
Appearance. To speak plain, there are a number of
us who have begun your Works afresh, and meet two
Nights in the Week in order to give you a Rehear/
ing. We never come together without drinking your
Health, and as seldom part without general Expressions
of Thanks to you for our Night's Improvement. This
we conceive to be a more useful Institution that any
0 er

298 THE SPECTATOR
On
hurzdavi Faces.
8C. 1
12.
other Club whatever, not excepting even that of ugly
We have one manifest Advantage over that
renowned Society, with respect to Mr. Spectator's Coma
pany. For though they may brag that you sometimes
make your personal Appearance amongst them, it is
impossible they should ever get a Word from you.
Whereas you are with us the Reverse of what Phaedria
would have his Mistress be in his Rival's Company,
Present in your Absence. We make you talk as much
and as long as we please, and let me tell you, you
seldom hold your Tongue for the whole Evening. I
promise my self you will look with an Eye of Favour
upon a Meeting which owes its Original to a mutual
Emulation among its Members, who shall shew the
most profound Respect for your Paper; not but we
have a very great Value for your Person; and I
dare say you can no where find four more sincere
Admirers, and humble Servants, than
TF. 63.11151:
No. 554.
Friday, December 5.
Tentanda via est, qua me quoque possim
Tollere humo, victorque virum volitare per ora,—Virg.
AM obliged for the following Essay, as well as for
I that which lays down Rules out of Tully for Pro/
nunciation and Action, to the Ingenious Author of a
Poem just Published, Entitled An Ode to the Creator of
the World, occasioned by the Fragments of Orpheus.

It is a Remark made, as I remember, by a celebrated
French Author, that no Man ever pushed his Capacity
as far as it was able to extend. I shall not enquire
whether this Assertion be strictly true. It may sufa
fice to say, that Men of the greatest Application and
Acquirements can look back upon many vacant Spaces,
and neglected Parts of Time, which have slipped away
from them unemployed; and there is hardly any one
considering Person in the World, but is apt to fancy
with himself, at some time or other, that if his Life
were to begin again, he could fill it up better. Th
e
THE SPECTATOR 299
The Mind is most provoked to cast on itself this ingenuous No. 554.
Reproach, when the Examples of such Men are presented Fmdag't
to it, as have far outshot the generality of their Species, ’
in Learning, Arts, or any valuable Improvements. '
One of the most extensive and improved Genius's we
have had any Instance of in our own Nation, or in any
other, was that of Sir Francis Bacon Lord Verulam.
This great Man, by an extraordinary Force of Nature,
Compass of Thought, and indefatigable Study, had amassed
to himself such Stores of Knowledge as we cannot look
upon without Amazement. His Capacity seems to have
grasped All that was revealed in Books before his Time;
and not satisfied with that, he began to strike out new
Tracks of Science, too many to he travelled over by any
one Man, in the Compass of the longest Life. These,
therefore, he could only mark down, like imperfect Coast/
ings in Maps, or supposed Points of Land, to be further
discovered, and ascertained by the Industry of After/Ages,
who should proceed upon his Notices or Conjectures.
The Excellent Mr. Boyle was the Person, who seems
to have been designed by Nature to succeed to the
Labours and Enquiries of that extraordinary Genius I have
just mentioned. By innumerable Experiments He, in a
great Measure, filled up those Plans and Out/Lines of
Science, which his Predecessor had sketched out. His
Life was spent in the Pursuit of Nature, through a great
Variety of Forms and Changes, and in the most rational,
as well as devout Adoration of its Divine Author.
It would be impossible to name many Persons, who
have extended their Capacities so far as these two, in the
Studies they pursued; but my learned Readers, on this
Occasion, will naturally turn their Thoughts to a Third,
who is yet living, and is likewise the Glory of our own
Nation. The Improvements which others had made in
Natural and Mathematical Knowledge have so vastly
increased in his Hands, as to afford at once a wonderful
Instance how great the Capacity is of an Human Soul, and
how inexhaustible the Subject of its Enquiries; so true is
that Remark in Holy Writ, that, tho' a wise Man seek to
find out the Works of God from the beginning to the
End, yet shall he not be able to do it. I
309 THE SPECTATOR
o. 554.
rida ,
EC: '
12.
I cannot help mentioning here one Character more, of
a different kind indeed from these, yet such a one as
may serve to shew the wonderful Force of Nature and of
Application, and is the most singular Instance of an Uni/
versal Genius I have ever met with. The Person I mean
is Leonardo da Vinci, an Italian Painter, descended from
a noble Family in Tuscany, about the beginning of the
Sixteenth Century, In his Profession of History/Painting
he was so great a Master, that some have affirmed he
excelled all who went before him, It is certain that he
raised the envy of Michael Angelo, who was his Con/
temporary, and that from the Study of his Works Raphael
himself learned his best Manner of Designing, He was
a Master too in Sculpture and Architecture, and skilful in
Anatomy, Mathematicks, and Mechanicks, The Aquae/
duct from the River Adda to Milan, is mentioned as
a Work of his Contrivance. He had learned several
Languages, and was acquainted with the Studies of His,
tory, Philosophy, Poetry, and Musick, Tho' it is not
necessary to my present Purpose, I cannot but take
Notice, that all who have writ of him mention likewise
his Perfection of Body, The Instances of his Strength
are almost incredible. He is described to have been of
a wellwformed Person, and a Master of all genteel Exer,
cises, And lastly, we are told that his moral Qualities
were agreeable to his natural and intellectual Endoww
ments, and that he was of an honest and generous Mind,
adorned with great Sweetness of Manners, I might
break off the Account of him here, but I imagine it will
be an Entertainment to the Curiosity of my Readers, to
find so remarkable a Character distinguished by as re/
markable a Circumstance at his Death, The Fame of his
Works having gained him an universal Esteem, he was
invited to the Court of France, where, after some Time,
he fell sick; and Francis the First coming to see him, he
raised himself in his Bed to acknowledge the Honour
which was done him by that Visit. The King embraced
him, and Leonardo fainting at the same Instant, expired
in the Arms of that great Monarch,
It is impossible to attend to such Instances as these
without being raised into a Contemplation on the
wonderful
THE SPECTATOR 301
wonderful Nature of an Human Mind, which is capable No. 554.
of such Progressions in Knowledge, and can contain such Frida 1
a Variety of Ideas without Perplexity or Confusion. How a; '
reasonable is it from hence to infer its Divine Original? '
And whilst we find unthinking Matter indued with a
Natural Power to last for ever, unless annihilated by
Omnipotence, how absurd would it be to imagine, that a
Being so much Superior to it should not have the same
Privilege?
At the same time it is very surprizing, when we re/
move our Thoughts from such Instances as I have
mentioned, to consider those we so frequently meet
with in the Accounts of barbarous Nations among the
Indians; where we find Numbers of People who scarce
shew the first Glimmerin s of Reason, and seem to have
few Ideas above those 0 Sense and Appetite. These,
methinks, appear like large Wilds, or vast uncultivated
Tracts of Human Nature; and when we compare them
with Men of the most exalted Characters in Arts and
Learning, we find it difficult to believe that they are
Creatures of the same Species.
Some are of Opinion that the Souls of Men are all
naturally equal, and that the great Disparity we so
often observe, arises from the different Organization or
Structure of the Bodies to which they are United. But
whatever constitutes this first Disparity, the next great
Difference which we find between Men in their several
Acquirements is owing to accidental Differences in their
Education, Fortunes, or Course of Life. The Soul is a
kind of rough Diamond, which requires Art, Labour,
and Time to polish it. For want of which, many a
good natural Genius is lost, or lies unfashioned, like a
Iewel in the Mine.
One of the strongest Incitements to excel in such Arts
and Accomplishments as are in the highest Esteem among
Men, is the natural Passion which the Mind of Man has
for Glory; which, tho' it may be faulty in the Excess of
it, ought by no means to be discouraged. Perhaps some
Moralists are too severe in beating down this Principle,
which seems to be a Spring implanted by Nature to give
Motion to all the latent Powers of the Soul, and is always
observed

302 THE SPECTATOR
JO: 'rida ,
ec. ,
712.
observed to exert itself with the greatest Force in the
most generous Dispositions. The Men, whose Characters
have shone the brightest among the ancient Romans,
appear to have been strongly animated by this Passion.
Cicero, whose Learning and Services to his Country,
are so well known, was inflamed by it to an extravagant
Degree, and warmly presses Lucceius, who was com.
posing a History of those Times, to be very particular
and zealous in relating the Story of his Consulship; and
to execute it speedily, that he might have the Pleasure
of enjoying in his Lifewtime some Part of the Honour
which he foresaw would be paid to his Memory. This
was the Ambition of a great Mind; but he is faulty in
the Degree of it, and cannot refrain from solliciting the
Historian upon this Occasion to neglect the strict Laws
of History, and in praising him, even to exceed the
bounds of Truth. The younger Pliny appears to have
had the same Passion for Fame, but accompanied with
greater Chastness and Modesty. His Ingenuous manner
of owning it to a Friend, who had prompted him to
undertake some great Work, is exquisitely beautiful, and
raises him to a certain Grandeur above the Imputation
of Vanity. I must confess, says he, that nothing em.
ploys my Thoughts more than the Desire I have of
perpetuating my Name, which in my Opinion is a
Design worthy of a Man, at least of such a one, who
being conscious of no Guilt, is not afraid to be rememr
bered by Posterity.
I think I ought not to conclude, without interesting
all my Readers in the Subject of this Discourse. I shall
therefore lay it down as a Maxim, that tho' all are not
capable of shining in Learning or the Politer Arts, yet
every one is capable of excelling in something. The
Soul has in this Respect a certain vegetative Power,
which cannot lie wholly idle. If it is not laid out and
cultivated into a regular and beautiful Garden, it will of
it self shoot up in Weeds or Flowers of a wilder Growth.
Saturday
THE SPECTATOR 303
NO; NO: [STEELE] Saturday, December 6. gaggrg'ay'
Respue quod non es—-—-,—-Pers. 1712-
LL the Members of the Imaginary Society, which
were described in my First Papers, having dis/
appe'ared one after another, it is high time for the
Spectator himself to go off the Stage. But, nowI am to
take my Leave I am under much greater Anxiety than
I have known for the Work of any Day since I undertook
this Province. It is much more difficult to converse with
the World in a real than a personated Character, That
might pass for Humour, in the Spectator, which would
look like Arrogance in a Writer who sets his Name to
his Work, The Fictitious Person might contemn those
who disapproved him, and extoll his own Performances,
without giving Offence, He might assume a Mock;
Authority; without being looked upon as vain and
conceited, The Praises or Censures of himself fall
only upon the Creature of his Imagination, and if any
one finds fault with him, the Author may reply with
the Philosopher of old, Thou dost but beat the Case of
Anaxarchus, When I speak in my own private Sentiu
ments, I cannot but address my self to my Readers in
a more submissive manner, and with a iust Gratitude,
for the kind Reception which they have given to these
Daily Papers that have been published for almost the
space of Two Years last past.
I hope the Apology I have made as to the Licence
allowable to a feigned Character, may excuse any thing
which has been said in these Discourses of the Spectator
and his Works; but the Imputation of the grossest Vanity
would still dwell upon me, if I did not give some Account
by what Means I was enabled to keep up the Spirit of
so long and approved a Performance. All the Papers
marked with a C, an L, an I, or an O, that is to say,
all the Papers which I have distinguished by any Letter
in the Name of the Muse CLIO, were given me by the
Gentleman, of whose Assistance I formerly boasted in
the Preface and concluding Leaf of my Ta tiers. I am
indeed much more proud of his long continued Friend/
ship
304 THE SPECTATOR
lo. 555.
aturday,
>ec. 6,
712.
ship, than I should be of the Fame of being thought the
Author of any Writings which he himself is capable of
producing. I remember when I finished the Tender
Husband, I told him there was nothing I so ardently
wished, as that we might some time or other publish
a Work written by us both, which should bear the Name
of the Monument, in Memory of our Friendship. I
heartily wish what I have done here, was as Honorary
to that Sacred Name, as Learning, Wit and Humanity
render those Pieces which I have taught the Reader how
to distinguish for his. When the Play abovementioned
was last Acted, there were so many applauded Stroaks
in it which I had from the same Hand, that I thought
very meanly of my self that I had never publickly
acknowledged them. After I have put other friends upon
importuning him to publish Dramatick, as well as other
Writings he has by him, I shall end what I think I am
obliged to say on this Head, by giving my Reader this
Hint for the better judging of my Productions, that the
best Comment upon them would be an Account when
the Patron to the Tender Husband was in England, or
Abroad.
The Reader will also find some Papers which are
marked with the Letter X, for which he is obliged to the
ingenious Gentleman who diverted the Town with the
Epilogue to the Distressed Mother. I might have owned
these several Papers with the free Consent of these
Gentlemen, who did not write them with a design of
being known for the Authors. But as a candid and
sincere Behaviour ought to be preferred to all other Con,
siderations, I would not let my Heart reproach me with
a Consciousness of having acquired a Praise which is not
my Right.
The other Assistances which I have had have been
conveyed by Letter, sometimes by whole Papers, and
other times by short Hints by unknown Hands. I
have not been able to trace Favours of this kind, with
any Certainty, but to the following Names, which I
place in the Order wherein I received the Obligation,
tho' the first I am going to Name can hardly be
mentioned in a List wherein he would not 66581;;6
e
THE SPECTATOR 305
the Precedence. The Persons to whom I am to make No. 555.
these acknowledgments are Mr. Henry Martin, Mr. saturdaY
Pope, Mr. H ughs, Mr. Carey of New/College in Oxford, 6'
Mr. Tickell of Queen’s in the same University, Mr. '
Parnelle, and Mr Eusden of Trinity in Cambridge. Thus
to speak in the Language of my late Friend Sir ANDREW
FREBPORT, I have Ballanced my Accounts with all my
Creditors for Wit and Learning. But as these Excellent
Performances would not have seen the Light without
the Means of this Paper, I may still arrogate to myself
the Merit of their being communicated to the Publick.
I have nothing more to add, but having swelled this
Work to Five hundred and fifty five Papers, they will be
disposed into seven Volumes, four of which are already
published, and the three others in the Press. It will not
be demanded of me why I now leave off, tho' I must own
my self obl' ed to give an Account to the Town of my
Time here er, since I retire when their Partiality to
me is so great, that an Edition of the former Volumes of
Spectators of above Nine thousand each Book, is already
sold off, and the Tax on each half Sheet has brought into
the Stamprffice one Week with another above 201. a
Week arising from this sin le Paper, notwithstanding
it at first reduced it to less t an half the Number that
was usually Printed before this Tax was laid.
I humbly beseech the Continuance of this Inclination
to favour what I may hereafter produce, and hope I have
in many Occurrences of Life tasted so deeply of Pain and
Sorrow, that I am Proof against much more prosperous
Circumstances than any Advantages to which my own
Industry can possibly exalt me.
I am]
My Good/12a tured Reader,
Your most Obedient,
Most Obliged Humble Servant,
Richard Steele.
Vos valete 8 pla udite. Ter.
The following Letter regards \ an ingenious Sett of
Gentlemen, who have done me the Honour to make me
one of their Society.
w. u ’ Mr.

306 THE SPECTATOR
o. 535.
lth ay
:c. 6, '
[2.
‘Mr. SPECTATOR, Dec. 4. 1712.
The Academy of Pain ting, lately established in London,
having done you, and themselves, the Honour to chuse you
one of their Directors, that Noble and Lovely Art, which
before was entitled to your Regards, as a Spectator, has
an additional Claim to you, and you seem to be under
a double Obligation to take some care of her Interests.
The Honour of our Country is also concerned in the
Matter I am going to lay before you; we (and perhaps
other Nations as well as we) have a National false
Humility as well as a National Vaianlory; and tho'
we boast our selves to excell all the World in things
wherein we are out/done abroad; in other things we
attribute to others a Superiority which we our selves
possess. This is what is done, particularly, in the Art of
Portrait or Face/Painting.
Painting is an Art of vast Extent, too great by much
for any mortal Man to be in full Possession of, in all its
Parts; 'tis enough if any one succeed in painting Faces,
History, Battels, Landscapes, Sea/pieces, Fruit, Flowers, or
Drolls, dc. Nay no Man ever was excellent in all
the Branches (tho' many in Number) of these several
Arts, for a distinct Art I take upon me to call every one
of these several Kinds of Painting.
And as one Man may be a good Landscape/Painter,
but unable to paint a Face or a Histor tollerably well,
and so of the rest; one Nation may exceff in some kinds
of Painting, and other kinds may thrive better in other
Climates.
Italy may have the Preference of all other Nations
fui History/Painting; Holland for Drolls, and a neat
finished manner of Working; France for Gay, ganty,
Fluttering Pictures; and England for Portraits; ut to
give the Honour of every one of these kinds of Painting
to any one of those Nations on account of their Excell/
ence in any of these: parts of it, is like adjudging the
Prize of Heroick, Dramatick, Lyrick or Burlesque Poetry,
to him who has done) well in any one of them.
Where there are ’ the greatest Genius's, and most
Helps and Encouragements, 'tis reasonable to suppose an

THE SPECTATOR 307
Art will arrive to the greatest Perfection; By this Rule No, 555,
let us consider our own Country with respect to Face/ Saturday,
Painting, No Nation in the World delights so much '
in having their own, or Friends' or Relations' Pictures; '
whether from their National Good/Nature, or having a
Love to Painting, and not being encouraged in that great
Article of Religious Pictures, which the Purity of our
Worship refuses the free use of, or from whatever
other Cause, Our Helps are not inferior to those of
any other People, but rather they are greater; for what
the Antique Statues and Bas/reliefs which Italy enjoys
are to the History/Painters, the beautiful and noble
Faces with which England is confessed to abound, are
to Face #Painters; and besides, we have the greatest
Number of the Works of the best Masters in that kind
of any People, not without a competent Number of those
of the most Excellent in every other Part of Painting,
And for Encouragement, the Wealth and Generosity of
the English Nation affords that in such a degree, as
Artists have no reason to complain, '
And accordingly in fact, FacewPainting is no where
so well performed as in England: I know not whether
it has lain in your way to observe it, but I have, and
pretend to be a tolerable Judge, I have seen what is
done Abroad, and can assure you that the Honour of
that Branch of Painting is justly due to us, I appeal to
the judicious Observers for the Truth of what I assert,
If Foreigners have oftentimes, or even for the most
part, excelled our Natives, it ought to be imputed to the
Advantages they have met with here, join’d to their
own Ingenuity and Industry, nor has any one Nation
distinguished themselves so as to raise an Argument
in favour of their Country; but 'tis to be observed, that
neither French nor Italians, nor any one of either Nation,
notwithstanding all our Prejudices in their Favour, have,
or ever had, for any considerable time, any Character
among us as Face/Painters,
This Honour is due to our own Country; and has
been so for near an Age: So that instead of going to
Italy, or elsewhere, one that designs for Portrait Painting
ought to Study in England. Hither such should come
t from
308 THE SPECTATOR
“Os laturday,
Dec. 6,
712.
from Holland, France, Italy, Germany, fie. as he that
intends to Practise any other kinds of Painting, should
go to those Parts where 'tis in greatest Perfection. ’Tis
said the Blessed Virgin descended from Heaven to, Sit
to St. Luke; I dare venture to affirm, that if she should
desire another Madonna to be Painted by the Life, she
would come to England; and am of Opinion that your
present President, Sir Godfrey Kneller, from his Im/
provement since he Arrived in this Kingdom, would
erform that Office better than any Foreigner living.
am, with all possible Respect,
Sir;
Your most H umble, and
most Obedient Servant, fic.’
The Ingenious Letters sign’d the Weather/Glass, with
several others, were receiv'd, but came too late.
POSTSCRIPT.
It had not come to my Knowledge, when I left off
the Spectator, that I owe several excellent Sentiments
gnd agreeable Pieces in this Work to Mr. [ace of Grey's/
1111.
R. STEELE.
The End of the Seventh Volume.
VOL. VIII.
TO
WILLIflM HONEY COMB, Esq.
THE Seven former Volumes of the Spectator having
been Dedicated to some of the most celebrated
Persons of the Age, I take leave to Inscribe this Eighth
and Last to You as to a Gentleman, who hath ever
been ambitious of appearing in the best Company.
You are now wholly retired from the busie part of
Mankind, and at leisure to reflect upon your past
Atchievements; for which reason, I look upon You as
a Person very well qualified for a Dedication.
I may possibly disappoint my Readers, and your self
too, if I do not endeavour on this occasion to make the
World acquainted with our Virtues. And here, Sir, I
shall not compliment ou upon your Birth, Person, or
Fortune; nor any other the like Perfections, which You
possess whether You will or no: but shall only touch
upon those, which are of your own acquiring, and in
which every one must allow You have a real Merit.
Your janty Air and easie Motion, the Volubility of
our Discourse, the Suddenness of your Laugh, the
anagement of your Snuff/Box, with the Whiteness of
your Hands and Teeth (which have justly gained You
the Envy of the most polite part of the Male World,
and the Love of the greatest Beauties in the Female)
are entirely to be ascribed to your own personal Genius
and Application.
You are formed for these Accomplishments by a
happy Turn of Nature, and have finished your self in
them by the utmost Improvements of Art. A Man
that is defective in either of these Qualifications (whatw
ever may be the secret Ambition of his Heart) must
never hope to make the Figure You have done, among
the fashionable part of his Species. It is therefore no
wonder, we see such multitudes of aspiring young Méllll

2 THE SPECTATOR
fall short of you in all these Beauties of your Character,
notwithstanding the Study and Practice of them is the
whole Business of their Lives. But I need not tell You
that the free and disengaged Behaviour of a fine Gentle;
man makes as many awkward Beaux, as the Easiness of
your Favourite Waller hath made insipid Poets.
At present You are content to aim all your Charms
at your own Spouse, without further Thought of Mis.
chief to any others of the Sex. I know You had
formerly a very great Contempt for that Pedantick Race
of Mortals who call themselves Philosophers; and yet,
to your Honour be it spoken, there is not a Sage of
them all could have better acted up to their Precepts in
one of the most important points of Life: I mean in
that Generous Dis/regard of Popular Opinion, which ou
showed some years ago, when you chose for your ife
an obscure young Woman, who doth not indeed pre.
tend to an ancient Family, but has certainly as many
Forefathers as any Lady in the Land, if she could but
reckon up their Names.
I must own I conceived very extraordinary hopes of
you from the Moment that you confessed your Age,
and from eight and forty (where you had stuck so
many Years) very ingenuously step'd into your Grand
Climacterick. Your Deportment has since been very
venerable and becoming. If I am rightly informed,
You make a regular Appearance every Quarter/Sessions
among your Brothers of the Quorum; and if things go
on as they do, stand fair for being a Colonel of the
Militia. I am told that your Time passes away as
agreeably in the Amusements of a Country Life, as it
ever did in the Gallantries of the Town: and that you
now take as much pleasure in the Planting of young
Trees, as you did formerly in the Cutting down of your
old ones. In short, we hear from all Hands that You
are thoroughly reconciled to your dirty Acres, and have
not too much Wit to look into your own Estate.
After having spoken thus much of my Patron, I
must take the Privilege of an Author in saying some/
thing of my self. I shall therefore beg leave to add,
that I have purposely omitted setting those Marks to
the
THE SPECTATOR 3
the End of every Paper, which appeared in my former
Volumes, that You may have an opportunity of showing
Mrs. Honeycomb the Shrewdness of your Conjectures,
by ascribing every Speculation to its proper Author:
though You know how often many profound Criticks
in Stile and Sentiments have very judiciously erred in
this Particular, before they were let into the Secret.
I. am,
81";
Your most Faithful
Humble Servant,
The SPECTATOR.
THE
Bookseller to the Reader.
N the Six hundred and thirty second Spectator, the
Reader will find an Account of the Rise of this
Eighth and Last Volume,
I have not been able to prevail upon the several
Gentlemen who were concerned in this Work to let
me acquaint the World with their Names,
Perhaps it will be unnecessary to inform the Reader,
that no other Papers, which have appeared under the
Title of Spectator, since the closing of this Eighth
Volume, were written by any of those Gentlemen who
had a Hand in this or the former Volumes,
THE
SPECTATOR.


V O L. V I I I.
No. 556.
[ADDISONJ Friday, june 18, 1714. $21556,
Ouah's ubi in Iucem coluber, mala gramina pastas, 15:1: 5"
Frigida sub terra tumidum quem bruma tegebat, 1714, >
Nunc positis novus exuviis, nitidusque juventa,
Lubrica convolvit sublato pectore terga
Arduus ad solem, et linguis micat ore trisulcis.——Virg.
UPON laying down the Office of SPECTATOR, I acquainted
the World with my Design of electing a new Club,
and of opening my Mouth in it after a most solemn
Manner. Both the Election and the Ceremony are now
past; but not finding it so easy as I at first imagined, to
break thro' a Fifty Years Silence, I would not venture into
the World under the Character of a Man who pretends to
talk like other People, ’till I had arrived at a full Freedom
of Speech.
I shall reserve for another time the History of such
Club or Clubs of which I am now a Talkative, but um
worthy Member; and shall here give an Account of this
surprising Change which has been produced in me, and
which I look upon to be as remarkable an Accident as
any recorded in History, since that which happened to
the Son of Croesus, after having been many Years as
much Tonguewtied as my self.
Upon the first openin of my Mouth, I made a Speech
consisting of about hal a Dozen well/turned Periods;
but grew so very hoarse upon it, that for three Days
together, instead of finding the use of my Tongue, I
was afraid that I had quite lost it. Besides, the unusual
Extension of my Muscles on this Occasion, made my
Face ake on both Sides to such a Degree, that nothing
5 but
6 THE SPECTATOR
I
da
, l4.
lo. 556. but an invincible Resolution and Perseverance could
have prevented me from falling back to my Mono/
syllables.
I afterwards made several Essays towards Speaking;
and that I might not be startled at my own Voice, which
has happen'd to me more than once, I used to read aloud
in my Chamber, and have often stood in the Middle of
the Street to call a Coach, when I knew there was none
within hearing.
When I was thus grown pretty well acquainted with
my own Voice, I laid hold of all Opportunities to exert
it. Not caring however to speak much by my self, and to
draw upon me the whole Attention of those I conversed
with, I used, for some time, to walk every Morning in the
Mall, and talk in Chorus with a Parcel of Frenchmen. I
found my Modesty greatly relieved by the communicative
Temper of this Nation, who are so very sociable, as to
think they are never better Company than when they
are all opening at the same time.
I then fancied I might receive great Benefit from
Female Conversation, and that I should have a Con/
venience of talking with the greater Freedom, when I
was not under any Impediment of thinking: I therefore
threw my self into an Assembly of Ladies, but could not
for my Life get in a Word among them; and found that
if I did not change my Company, I was in Danger of
being reduced to my primitive Taciturnity.
The Coffee/houses have ever since been my chief
Places of Resort, where I have made the greatest Im/
provements; in order to which I have taken a particular
Care never to be of the same Opinion with the Man
I conversed with. I was a Tory at Button's, and a Whig
at Child's; a Friend to the Englishman, or an Advocate
for the Examiner, as it best served my Turn: Some
fancy me a great Enemy to the French King, though,
in reality, I only make use of him for a Help to Discourse.
In short, I wrangle and dispute for Exercise; and have
carried this Point so far, that I was once like to have been
run through the Body for making a little too free with my
Betters.
In a Word, I am quite another Man to what I was.
Nil
THE SPECTATOR 7
—— Nil fuit unquam No, 556, '
Tam dispar sibi—~ Friday.
My old Acquaintance scarce know me; nay l was {‘71: 8'
asked the other Day by a few at [onathan's, whether I '
was not related to a dumb Gentleman, who used to come
to that Coffee/house? But I think I never was better
pleased in my Life than about a Week ago, when, as I
was battling it across the Table with a young Templar,
his Companion gave him a Pull by the Sleeve, begging
him to come away, for that the old Prig would talk him
to Death.
Being now a very good Proficient in Discourse, I shall
appear in the World with this Addition to my Character,
that my Countrymen may reap the Fruits of my new
a uired Loquacity.
hose who have been present at publick Disputes in
the University, know that it is usual to maintain Heresies
for Argument's sake. I have heard a Man a most impu/
dent Socinian for Half an Hour, who has been an
Orthodox Divine all his Life after. I have taken the
same Method to accomplish my self in the Gift of Utter/
ance, having talked above a Twelve/month, not so much
for the Benefit of my Hearers as of my self. But since
I have now gained the Faculty, I have been so long
endeavouring after, I intend to make a right Use of it,
and shall think my self obliged, for the future, to speak
always in Truth and Sincerity of Heart. While a Man
is learning to fence, he practises both on Friend and Foe;
but when he is a Master in the Art, he never exerts it
but on what he thinks the right Side.
That this last Allusion may not give my Reader a
wrong Idea of my Design in this Paper, I must here
inform him, that the Author of it is of no Faction, that
he is a Friend to no Interests but those of Truth and
Virtue, nor a Foe to any but those of Vice and Folly.
Though I make more Noise in the World than I used
to do, I am still resolved to act in it as an indifferent
SPECTATOR. It is not my Ambition to encrease the Number
either of Whigs or Tories, but of wise and good Men, and
I could heartily wish there were not Faults common to
both Parties, which afford me sufficient Matter to work
upon
8 THE SPECTATOR
No. 556. upon, without descending to those which are peculiar to
Frida ,
lune 8,
either.
If in a Multitude of Counsellors there is Safety, we
ought to think our selves the securest Nation in the
World. Most of our Garrets are inhabited by Statesmen,
who watch over the Liberties of their Country, and make
a Shift to keep themselves from starving, by taking into
their Care the Properties of all their FellowrSubjects.
As these Politicians of both Sides have already worked
the Nation into a most unnatural Ferment, I shall be so
far from endeavouring to raise it to a greater Height,
that, on the contrary, it shall be the chief Tendency of
my Papers, to inspire my Countrymen with a mutual
Good/will and Benevolence. Whatever Faults lther
Party may be guilty of, they are rather inflamec than
cured by those Reproaches, which they cast upon one
another. The most likely Method of rectifying any Man's
Conduct, is, by recommending to him the Principles of
Truth and Honour, Religion and Virtue; and so long as
he acts with an Eye to these Principles, whatever Party
he is of, he cannot fail of being a good Englishman, and a
Lover of his Country.
As for the Persons concerned in this Work, the Names
of all of them, or at least of such as desire it, shall be
published hereafter: 'Till which time I must entreat the
courteous Reader to suspend his Curiosity, and rather to
consider what is written, than who they are that write it.
Having thus adjusted all necessary Preliminaries with
my Reader, I shall not trouble him with any more pre/
fatory Discourses, but proceed in my old Method, and
entertain him with Speculations on every useful Subject
that falls in my Way.
No. 557.
[ADDISON.] Monday, June 21.
Quippe domum timet ambiguam, Tyriosque bilingues—Virg.
HERE is nothing, says Plato, so delightful, as the
hearing or the speaking of Truth. For this
Reason there is no Conversation so agreeable as that of the
Man of Integrity, who hears without any Intention to
betray, and speaks without any Intention to deceive.
Among
THE SPECTATOR 9
Among all the Accounts which are given of Cato, I do No. 557.
not remember one that more redounds to his Honour Mondale
than the following Passage related by Plutarch.
Advocate was pleading the Cause of his Client before
one of the Praetors, he could only produce a single Wits
ness in a Point where the Law required the Testimony
of two Persons; upon which the Advocate insisted on
the Integrity of that Person whom he had produced; but
the Praetor told him, That where the Law required two
Witnesses he would not accept of one, tho' it were Cato
himself. Such a Speech from a Person who sat at the
Head of a Court of Justice, while Cato was still living,
shews us, more than a thousand Examples, the high
Reputation this great Man had gained among his Con/
temporaries upon the Account of his Sincerity.
When such an inflexible Integrity is a little softned
and qualified by the Rules of Conversation and Good
breeding, there is not a more shining Virtue in the
whole Catalogue of Social Duties. A Man however
ought to take great care not to polish himself out of his
V acity, nor to refine his Behaviour to the Prejudice
or .is Virtue.
'1 his Subject is exquisitely treated in the most elegant
Sermon of the great British Preacher. I shall beg Leave
to transcribe out of it two or three Sentences, as a proper
Introduction to a very curious Letter, which I shall make
the chief Entertainment of this Speculation.
‘The old English Plainness and Sincerity, that generous
Integrity of Nature, and Honesty of Disposition, which
always argues true Greatness of Mind, and is usually
accompanied with undaunted Courage and Resolution, is
in a great Measure lost among us.
The Dialect of Conversation is nowadays so swelled
with Vanity and Compliment, and so surfeited (as I may
say) of Expressions of Kindness and Respect, that if a
Man that lived an Age or two ago should return into
the World again, he would really want a Dictionary to
help him to understand his own Language, and to know
the true intrinsick Value of the Phrase in fashion; and
would hardly, at first, believe at what a low Rate the
highest Strains and Expressions of Kindness imaginable
do
As an 714
une ’
I

10 THE SPECTATOR
.OI onday,
une 21
714.
do commonly pass in current Payment; and when he
should come to understand it, it would be a great while
- before he could bring himself with a good Countenance
and a good Conscience, to converse with Men upon equal
Terms and in their own Way.’
I have by me a Letter which I look upon as a great
Curiosity, and which may serve as an Exemplification to
the foregoing Passage, cited out of this most excellent
Prelate. It is said to have been written in King Charles
II's Reign by the Ambassador of Bantam, a little after his
Arrival in England.
‘ Master,
The People, where I now am, have Tongues further
from their Hearts than from London to Bantam, and thou
knowest the Inhabitants of one of these Places does not
know what is done in the other. They call thee and thy
Subjects Barbarians, because we speak what we mean;
and account themselves a civilized People, because they
speak one thing and mean another: Truth they call
Barbarity, and Falshood Politeness. Upon my 'rst
landing, one who was sent from the King of this P e
to meet me told me, That he was extreamly sorry for
the Storm I had met with just before my Arrival. I
was troubled to hear him grieve and afflict himself upon
my Account; but in less than a Quarter of an Hour he
smiled, and was as merry as if nothing had happened.
Another who came with him told me by my Interpreter,
He should be glad to do me any Service that lay in his
Power. Upon which I desired him to carry one of my
Portmanteaus for me; but instead of serving me accord/
ing to his Promise, he laughed, and bid another do it.
I lodged, the first Week, at the House of one, who desired
me to think my self at home, and to consider his House
as my own. Accordingly, I the next Morning began to
knock down one of the Walls of it, in order to let in the
fresh Air, and had packed up some of the Household
Goods, of which I intended to have made thee a Present:
But the false Varlet no sooner saw me falling to Work,
but he sent Word to desire me to give over, for that he
would have no such Doings in his House. I hadb not
een
THE SPECTATOR '11
been long in this Nation, before I was told by one, for
whom I had asked a certain Favour from the Chief of
the King's Servants, whom they here call the Lord/
Treasurer, That I had eternally obliged him, I was
so surprized at his Gratitude, that I could not forbear
saying, What Service is there which one Man can do
for another, that can oblige him to all Eternity! However
I only asked him for my Reward, that he would lend
me his eldest Daughter during my Stay in this Country;
but I quickly found that he was as treacherous as the rest
of his Countrymen,
At my first going to Court, one of the great Men
almost put me out of Countenance, by asking ten thou/
sand Pardons of me for only treading by Accident upon
my Toe, They call this kind of Lye a Compliment; for
when they are civil to a great Man, they tell him Un/
truths, for which thou wouldest order any of thy Officers
of State to receive a hundred Blows upon his Foot, I
do not know how I shall negociate any thing with this
People, since there is so little Credit to be given to ’em.
When I go to see the King’s Scribe, I am generally told
that he is not at home, tho’ perhaps I saw him go into
his House almost the very Moment before, Thou
wouldest fancy that the whole Nation are Physicians,
for the first Question they always ask me, is, How I do?
I have this Question put to me above a hundred times
a Day, Nay, they are not only thus inquisitive after my
Health, but wish it in a more solemn Manner, with a
full Glass in their Hands, every time I sit with them at
Table, tho' at the same time they wou'd perswade me
to drink their Liquors in such Quantities as I have found
by Experience will make me sick, They often pretend
to pray for thy Health also in the same Manner; but
I have more Reason to expect it from the Goodness of thy
Constitution, than the Sincerity of their Wishes, May
thy Slave escape in Safety from this double/tongued Race
of Men, and live to lay himself once more at thy Feet in
thy Royal City of Bantam.’
IV. Wednesday
No, 557,
Monda ,
June 21?
1714.
12 THE SPECTATOR
i0358' No. 558.
Kaine” [ADDISQNJ Wednesday, Iune 23.
"11¢ 231 Gal fit, Maecenas, ut nemo, quam sibi sortem
714' a Sea ratio dederit, seu fors objecerit. illa
Contentus vivat, laudet diversa sequentes l
O fortunati mercatores, gravis annis
Mles ait, multo jam fractus membra laborel
Contra mercator, navim jactantibus austris .-
Militia est potior. Quid enim I Concurritur! horae
Momento cita mors venit, aut victoria laeta.
Agricolam Iaudat iuris legumque peritus,
Sub galli cantum consultor ubi ostia pulsat.
111e, datis vadibus qui rure extractus in urbem est,
Solos felices viventes clamat in urbe.
Cetera de genere hoc (adeo sunt multa) quuacem
Delassare valent Fabium. Ne te morer, audi,
Quo rem deducam. Siquis Deus, en ego, dicat,
jam faciam quod vultis : eris tu. qui modo miles,
Mercator: tu consultus modo rusticus. Hinc vos,
Vos hinc mutatis discedite partibus. Eial
Quid statis 7 Nolint. Atqui licet esse beatis.——Hor.
IT is a celebrated Thought of Socrates, that if all the
Misfortunes of Mankind were cast into a publick
Stock, in order to be equally distributed among the whole
Species, those who now think themselves the most un.
happy, would prefer the Share they are already possess’d
of, before that which would fall to them by such a
Division. Horace has carried this Thought a great deal
further in the Motto of my Paper, which implies that
the Hardships or Misfortunes we lie under, are more
easy to us than those of any other Person would be, in
case we could change Conditions with him. ‘
As I was ruminating on these two Remarks, and seated
in my Elbow/Chair, I insensibly fell asleep; when, on
a sudden, methought there was a Proclamation made by
jupiter, that every Mortal should bring in his Griefs and
Calamities, and throw them together in a Heap. There
was a large Plain appointed for this Purpose. I took my
Stand in the Center of it, and saw with a great deal of
Pleasure the whole human Species marching one after
another, and throwing down their several Loads, which
immediately grew up into a prodigious Mountain that
seemed to rise above the Clouds.
There
THE SPECTATOR 13
There was a certain Lady of a thin airy Shape, who No. 558.
was very active in this Solemnity. She carried a magni/ Yedlm'
fying Glass in one of her Hands, and was cloathed in 1:2; 23
a loose flowing Robe, embroidered with several Figures 1714, '
of Fiends and Spectres, that discovered themselves in a
thousand chimerical Shapes, as her Garment hovered in
the Wind. There was something wild and distracted in
her Looks. Her Name was FANCY. She led up every
Mortal to the appointed Place, after having very officiously
assisted him in making up his Pack, and laying it upon
his Shoulders. My Heart melted within me to see my
FellowlCreatures groaning under their respective Burl
thens, and to consider that prodigious Bulk of human
Calamities which lay before me.
There were however several Persons who gave me
reat Diversion upon this Occasion. I observed one
ringing in a Fardel very carefully concealed under an
old embroidered Cloak, which, upon his throwing it into
the Heap, I discovered to be Poverty. Another, after a
great deal of puffing, threw down his Luggage; which,
upon examining, I found to be his Wife.
There were Multitudes of Lovers saddled with very
whimsical Burthens, composed of Darts and Flames; but,
what was very odd, tho’ they sighed as if their Hearts
would break under these Bundles of Calamities, they could
not perswade themselves to cast them into the Heap,
when they came up to it; but after a few faint Efforts,
shook their Heads and marched awa , as heavy loaden as
they came. Isaw Multitudes of old omen throw down
their Wrinkles, and several young ones who stripped
themselves of a tawny Skin. There were very great
Heaps of red Noses, large Lips, and rusty Teeth. The
Truth of it is, I was surprized to see the greatest Part of
the Mountain made up of bodily Deformities. Observing
one advancing towards the Heap with a larger Cargo
than ordinary upon his Back, I found upon his near
Approach, that it was only a natural Hump, which he
disposed of, with great Jloy of Heart, among this Collection
of umane Miseries. here were likewise Distempers of
all Sorts, tho' I could not but observe, that there were
many more imaginary than real. One little Packet I could
not

14 THE SPECTATOR
o. 558. not but take Notice of, which was a Complication of all
"111%" the Diseases incident to human Nature, and was in the
Y
né 23,
14.
Hand of a great many fine People: This was called the
Spleen. But what most of all surprized me, was a Remark
I made, that there was not a single Vice or Folly thrown
into the whole Heap: At which I was very much
astonished, having concluded within my self, that every
one would take this Opportunity of getting rid of his
Passions, Prejudices and Frailties.
I took Notice in particular of a very profligate Fellow,
who I did not question came loaden with his Crimes, but
upon searching into his Bundle, I found that instead of
throwing his Guilt from him, he had only laid down his
Memory. He was follow'd by another worthless Rogue,
who flung away his Modesty instead of his Ignorance.
When the whole Race of Mankind had thus cast their
Burdens, the Phan tome which had been so busie on this
Occasion, seeing me an idle Spectator of what passed,
approached towards me. I grew uneasie at her Presence,
when of a sudden she held her magnif¥ing Glass full
before my Eyes. I no sooner saw my ace in it, but
was startled at the Shortness of it, which now appeared
to me in its utmost Aggravation. The immoderate
Breadth of the Features made me very much out of
Humour with my own Countenance, upon which I
threw it from me like a Mask. It happened very luckily,
that one who stood by me had iust before thrown down
his Visage, which, it seems, was too long for him. It
was indeed extended to a most shameful length: I believe
the very Chin was, modestly speaking, as long as my
whole Face. We had both of us an Opportunity of mend!
ing our selves, and, all the Contributions being now
brought in, every Man was at Liberty to exchange his
Misfortune for those of another Person. But as there
arose many new Incidents in the Sequel of my Vision, I
shall reserve them for the Subject of my next Paper.
Friday
THE SPECTATOR 15
NOI [ADDISON] Friday, June 25. June {53,
1714. i
Quid causae est, merito quin illis lupiter ambas
Iratus buccas inflet, neque se fore posthac
Tam facilem dicat, votis ut praebeat aurem f—Hor.
IN my last Paper, I gave my Reader a Sight of that
Mountain of Miseries, which was made up of those
several Calamities that afflict the Minds of Men. I saw,
with unspeakable Pleasure, the whole Species thus
delivered from its Sorrows; though, at the same time,
as we stood round the Heap, and surveyed the several
Materials of which it was composed, there was scarce
a Mortal, in this vast Multitude, who did not discover
what he thought Pleasures and Blessings of Life; and
wonder'd how the Owners of them ever came to look
upon them as Burthens and Grievances.
As we were regarding very attentively this Confusion
of Miseries, this Chaos of Calamity, jupiter issued out
a second Proclamation, that every one was now at
Liberty to exchange his Affliction, and to return to his
Habitation with any such other Bundle as should be
delivered to him;
Upon this, FANCY began again to bestir her self, and,
parcelling out the whole Heap with incredible Activity,
recommended to every one his particular Packet. The
Hurry and Confusion at this time was not to be expressed.
Some Observations, which I made upon the Occasion,
I shall communicate to the Publick. A venerable grey,
headed Man, who had laid down the Cholick, and who
I found wanted an Heir to his Estate, snatched up an
undutiful Son, that had been thrown into the Heap by
his angry Father. The graceless Youth, in less than
a quarter of an Hour, pulled the old Gentleman by the
Beard, and had like to have knocked his Brains out; so
that meeting the true Father, who came towards him
in a Fit of the Gripes, he begg’d him to take his Son
again, and give back his Cholick; but they were in;
capable either of them to recede from the Choice
they had made. A poor Gally/Slave, who had thrown
down his Chains took up the Gout in their stead, but
made
16 THE SPECTATOR
’q. 559. made such wry Faces, that one might easily perceive
"flak he was no great Gainer by the Bargain. It was pleasant
if: ' enough to see the several Exchanges that were made,
' for Sickness against Poverty, Hunger against want of
Appetite, and Care against Pain.
The Female World were very busie among themselves
in bartering for Features; one was trucking a Look of
grey Hairs for a Carbuncle, another was making over
- a short Waste for a Pair of round Shoulders, and a third
cheapning a bad Face for a lost Reputation; But on all
these Occasions, there was not one of them who did not
think the new Blemish, as soon as she had got it into
her Possession, much more disagreeable than the old one.
I made the same Observation on every other Misfortune
or Calamity, which every one in the Assembly brought
upon himself, in lieu of what he had parted with;
whether it be that all the Evils which befall us are in
some Measure suited and proportioned to our Strength,
or that every Evil becomes more supportable by our
being accustomed to it, I shall not determine.
I could not for my Heart forbear pitying the poor
hump/back'd Gentleman mentioned in the former Paper,
who went off a very wellashaped Person with a Stone
in his Bladder; nor the fine Gentleman who had struck
up this Bargain with him, that limped thro’ a whole
Assembly of Ladies who used to admire him, with a
Pair of Shoulders peeping over his Head.
I must not omit my own particular Adventure. My
Friend with the long Visage had no sooner taken upon
him my short Face, but he made such a grotesque
Figure in it, that as I looked upon him I could not
forbear laughing at my self, insomuch that I put my
own Face out of Countenance. The poor Gentleman
was so sensible of the Ridicule, that I found he was
ashamed of what he had done; On the other Side I
found that I my self had no great Reason to triumph,
for as I went to touch my Forehead I missed the Place
and cla ed my Finger upon my upper Lip. Besides,
as my Naose was exceed' prominent, I gave it two or
three unlucky Knocks as was playing my Hand about
my Face, and aiming at some other Part of it. I saw
two
THE SPECTATOR 17
two other Gentlemen by me, who were in the same No. 559.
ridiculous Circumstances. These had made a foolish Fridagg
1
Swop between a Couple of thick bandy Legs, and two]
long Trapsticks that had no Calfs to them. ne of these
looked like a Man walking upon Stilts, and was so lifted
u into the Air above his ordinary Height, that his
f-fead turned round with it, while the other made such
awkward Circles, as he attempted to walk, that he scarce
knew how to move forward upon his new Supporters:
Observing him to ‘be a pleasant kind of Fellow, I stuck
m Cane in the Ground, and told him Iwould lay him
a Bottle of Wine, that he did not march up to it on a
Line, that I drew for him, in a Quarter of an Hour.
The Heap was at last distributed among the two Sexes,
who made a most piteous Sight, as they wandered up
and down under the Pressure of their several Burthens.
The whole Plain was filled with Murmurs and Com,
plaints, Groans and Lamentations. jupiter at length,
taking Compassion on the poor Mortals, ordered them
a second time to lay down their Loads, with a Design
to give every one his own again. They discharged
themselves with a great deal of Pleasure, after which,
the Phantome, who had led them into such gross Delu/
sions, was commanded to disappear. There was sent
in her stead a Goddess of a quite different Figure: Her
Motions were steady and composed, and her Aspect
serious but cheerful. She every now and then cast her
E es towards Heaven, and fixed them upon ]upiter:
er Name was PA TIEN CE. She had no sooner placed
herself by the Mount of Sorrows, but, what I thought
very remarkable, the whole Heap sunk to such a
Degree, that it did not appear a third part so big as it
was before. She afterwards' returned every Man his
own proper Calamity, and teaching him how to bear it
in the most commodious Manner, he marched off with
it contentedly, being very well pleased that he had not
been left to his own Choice, as to the Kind of Evils
which fell to his Lot.
Besides the several Pieces of Morality to be drawn
out of this Vision, I learnt from it, never to repine
at my own Misfortunes, or to envy the Happiness of
another
BBC
1714.
18 THE SPECTATOR

lo. 5
rida
me
714.
59!
is,
another, since it is impossible for any Man to form a
right Judgment of his Neighbour’s Sufferings; for which
Reason also I have determined never to think too lightly
of another’s Complaints, but to regard the Sorrows of
my Fellow~Creatures with Sentiments of Humanity and
Compassion.
No. 566.
[ADDISQN.] Monday, lune 28.
—-— Verba intermissa retentatP-Ov. Met.
EVERY one has heard of the famous Conjurer, who,
according to the Opinion of the Vulgar, has studied
himself dumb; for which Reason, as it is believed, he
delivers out all his Oracles in Writing. Be that as it
will, the blind Teresias was not more famous in Greece,
than this dumb Artist has been for some Years last past,
in the Cities of London and Westminster. Thus much
for the profound Gentleman who honours me with the
following Epistle.
' Sir,
Bein
From my Cell, lune 24, 1714.
informed that you have lately got the Use of
our ongue, I have some Thoughts of following your
Example, that I may be a Fortune/teller properly speak,
ing. I am grown weary of my Taciturnity, and having
served my Country many Years under the Title of the
dumb Doctor, I shall now prophesie by Word of Mouth,
and (as Mr. Lee says of the Magpie, who you know
was a great Fortune/teller among the Ancients) chatter
Futurity. I have hitherto chosen to receive Questions
and return Answers in Writing, that I might avoid
the Tediousness and Trouble of Debates; my Querists
being generally of a Humour to think, that they have
never Predictions enough for their Mony. In short,
Sir, my Case has been something like that of those
discreet Animals the Monkeys, who, as the Indians tell
us, can speak if they wou'd, but purposely avoid it that
they may not be made to work. I have hitherto gained
a Livelihood by holding my Tongue, but shall now open
my Mouth in order to fill it. I I appear a little wig
THE SPECTATOR 19
bound in my first Solutions and Responses, I hope it No. 560.
will not be imputed to any want of Foresight, but to Mmda I
the long Disuse of Speech. I doubt not by this Inven/ '
tion to have all my former Customers over a ain, for
if I have promised any of them Lovers or usbands,
Riches or good Luck, it is my Design to confirm to
them viva voce, what I have already given them under
my Hand. If you will honour me with a Visit, I will
compliment you with the first opening of my Mouth,
and if you please you may make an entertaining Dialogue
out of the Conversation of two dumb Men. Excuse this
Trouble, worthy Sir, from one who has been a long
time '
Your silent Admirer,
Cornelius Agrippa.’
I have received the following Letter, or rather Billet;
doux, from a pert young Baggage, who congratulates
with me upon the same Occasion.
‘Dear Mr. Pratewapace, june 23, 1714.
Iam a Member of a Female Society who call our selves
the Chit/Chat Club, and am ordered, by the whole
Sisterhood, to congratulate you upon the Use of your
Tongue. We have all of us a mighty Mind to hear
you talk, and if you will take your Place among us for
an Evening, we have unanimously agreed to allow you
one Minute in ten, without Interruption.
I am, Sir,
Your humble Servant,
‘P. S. You may find us at my Lady Betty Clack's, who
will leave Orders with her Porter, that if an elderly
Gen tleman. with a short Face, enquires for her, he
shall be admitted and no Questions asked.’
As this particular Paper shall consist wholly of what
I have received from my Correspondents, I shall fill up
the remaining Part of it with other congratulatory
Letters of the same Nature. S
' ir
20 THE SPECTATOR
lac: on a
me 23:.
714.
‘Sir, Oxford, [une 25, 1714.
We are here wonderfully pleas'd with the Opening of
your Mouth, and very frequently open ours in approbaa
tion of your Design; especially since we find you are
resolved to preserve your Taciturnity as to all Party
Matters. We do not question but you are as great an
Orator as Sir Hudibras, of whom the Poet sweetly sings,
———- He could not ope
His Mouth, but out there flew a Trope.

If you will send us down the Half/dozen well/turned
Periods, that produced such dismal Effects in your
Muscles, we will deposite them near an old Manuscript
of Tully's Orations, among the Archives of the Univer/
sity; for we all agree with you, that there is not a more
remarkable Accident recorded in History, since that
which happened to the Son of Croesus, nay, I believe
you might have gone higher, and have added Balaam's
Ass. We are impatient to see more of your Productions,
and expect what Words will next fall from you, with as
much Attention as those who were set to watch the
speaking Head which Friar Bacon formerly erected in
this Place. We are,
Worthy Sir,
Your most humble Servants,
BI RI TI DI
'Honest SPEC, Middle Temple, june 24.
I am very glad to hear that thou beginnest to prate;
and find, by thy Yesterday's Vision, thou art so used
to it, that thou canst not forbear talking in thy Sleep.
Let me only advise thee to speak like other Men, for I
am afraid thou wilt be very queer, if thou dost not in.
tend to use the Phrases in fashion, as thou callest them
in thy Second Paper. Hast thou a Mind to pass for a
Bantamite, or to make us all Quakers? I do assure
thee, dear SPEC, I am not polished out of my Veracity,
when I subscribe my self
Thy constant Admirer,
and humble Servant,
Frank Townly.’
Wednesday
THE SPECTATOR 21
NO: NO. [ADDISON] Wednesday, 1...... 30, ism
————- Paulatim abolere Sichaeum lune 30.
Incipit, et vivo tentat praevertere amore 1714-
]ampridem resides animos desuetaque corda.—-Virg.
’ Sir,
I AM a tall, broad/shoulder'd, impudent, black Fellow,
and, as I thought, every way qualified for a rich
Widow: But, after having tried my Fortune for above
three Years together, I have not been able to get one
single Relict in the Mind. My first Attacks were gener/
ally successful, but always broke off as soon as they
came to the Word Settlement. Though I have not im/
proved my Fortune this way, I have my Experience,
and have learnt several Secrets which may be of use
to those unhappy Gentlemen, who are commonly dis/
tinguished by the Name of Widow/hunters, and who do
not know that this Tribe of Women are, generally
speaking, as much upon the Catch as themselves. I
shall here communicate to you the Mysteries of a
certain Female Cabal of this Order, who call themselves
the Widow/Club. This Club consists of nine experi/
enced Dames, who take their Places once a Week round
a lar e oval Table.
I. Elks. President is a Person who has disposed of
six Husbands, and is now determined to take a seventh:
being of Opinion that there is as much Virtue in the
Touch of a seventh Husband as of a seventh Son. Her
Comrades are as follow. -
II. Mrs. Snapp, who has four Jointures, by four
different Bed/fellows, of four different Shires. She is at
present upon the Point of Marriage with a Middlesex
Man, and is said to have an Ambition of extending her
Possessions through all the Counties in England, on this
side the Trent.
III. Mrs. Medlar, who after two Husbands and a
Gallant, is now wedded to an old Gentleman of Sixty.
Upon her making her Report to the Club after a Week’s
Cohabitation, she is still allowed to sit as a Widow, and
accordingly takes her Place at the Board.
IV.
22 THE SPECTATOR
No. 561. IV. The Widow Quick, married within a Fortnight
Wednw after the Death of her last Husband. Her Weeds have
fan" 30 served her thrice, and are still as good as new.
' V. Lady Catherine Swallow. She was a Widow at
Eighteen, and has since buried a second Husband and
two Coachmen.
VI. The Lady Waddle. She was married in the 15th
Year of her Age to Sir Simon Waddle, Knight, aged
Threescore and twelve, by whom she had Twins nine
Months after his Decease. In the 55th Year of her
Age she was married to james Spindle, Esq., a Youth
g/fl One and twenty, who did not out/live the Honey;
oon.
VII. Deborah Conquest. The Case of this Lady is
something particular. She is the Relict of Sir Sampson
Conquest, some time Justice of the Quorum. Sir Samp/
son was seven Foot high, and two Foot in Breadth from
the Tip of one Shoulder to the other. He had married
three Wives, who all of them died in Childbed. This
terrified the whole Sex, who none of them durst venture
on Sir Sampson. At length Mrs. Deborah undertook
him, and gave so good an Account of him, that in three
Years time she very fairly laid him out, and measured his
Length upon the Ground. This Exploit has gained her
so great a Reputation in the Club, that they have added
Sir Sampson’s three Victories to hers, and give her the
Merit of a fourth Widowhood; and she takes her Place
accordingly.
VIII. The Widow Wildfire, Relict of Mr. [ohn IVild/
fire, Fox/hunter, who broke his Neck over a six Bar
Gate. She took his Death so much to Heart, that it was
thought it would have put an End to her Life, had she
not diverted her Sorrows by receiving the Addresses of
a Gentleman in the Neighbourhood, who made Love to
her in the second “Month of her Widowhood. This
Gentleman was discarded in a Fortnight for the sake of
a young Templar, who had the Possession of her for six
Weeks after, till he was beaten out b a broken Officer,
who likewise gave up his place to a entleman at Court.
The Courtier was as short/liv'd a Favourite as his Prede/
cessors, but had the Pleasure to see himself succeeded by
a
THE SPECTATOR 23
a long Series of Lovers, who followed the Widow Wilda No. 56!.
fire to the 37th Year of her Age, at which time there wfl'lnw
ensued a Cessation of ten Years, when john Felt, Haber/ i'laY' 30
dasher, took it in his Head to be in love with her, 1%; '
and it is thought will very suddenly carry her off.
IX. The last is pretty Mrs. Runnet, who broke her
first Husband’s Heart before she was Sixteen, at which
Time she was entred of the Club; but soon after left it,
upon Account of a Second whom she made so quick a
Dispatch of, that she returned to her Seat in less than
a Twelvemonth. This young Matron is looked upon as
the most rising Member of the Society, and will probably
be in the President's Chair before she dies.
These Ladies, upon their first Institution, resolved to
give the Pictures of their deceased Husbands to the Club;
Room, but two of them bringing in their Dead at full
Length, they covered all the Walls; Upon which they
came to a second Resolution, that every Matron should
give her own Picture, and set it round with her Husbands
in Miniature.
As they have most of them the Misfortune to be
troubled with the Cholick, they have a noble Cellar of
Cordials and strong Waters. When they grow Maudlin,
they are very apt to commemorate their former Partners
with a Tear. But ask them which of their Husbands
they condole, they are not able to tell you, and discover
plainly that they do not weep so much for the Loss of a
Husband, as for the want of one.
The principal Rule, by which the whole Society are
to govern themselves, is this, To cry up the Pleasures
of a single Life upon all Occasions, in order to deter the
rest of their Sex from Marriage, and engross the whole
Male World to themselves.
They are obliged, when any one makes Love to a
Member of the Society, to communicate his Name, at
which time the whole Assembly sit upon his Reputa/
tion, Person, Fortune, and good Humour; and if they
find him qualified for a Sister of the Club, they lay
their Heads together how to make him sure. By this
Means they are acquainted with all the Widow/hunters
about Town, who often afford them great Diverrshion.
ere
24 THE SPECTATOR
o. 561. There is an honest Irish Gentleman, it seems, who
“has: knows nothing of this Society, but at different times has
:21; 30 made Love to the whole Club.
714. ' Their Conversation often turns upon their former
Husbands, and it is very diverting to hear them re»
late their several Arts and Stratagems, with which they
amused the Jealous, pacified the Cholerick, or wheedled
the Good/natured Man, 'till at last, to use the Club
Phrase, They sent him out of the House with his Heels
foremost.
The Politicks, which are most cultivated by this
Society of SheaMachiavils, relate chiefly to these two
Points, How to treat a Lover, and How to manage a
Husband. As for the first Set of Artifices, they are too
numerous to come within the Compass of your Paper,
and shall therefore be reserved for a second Letter.
The Management of a Husband is built upon the
following Doctrines, which are universally assented to
by the whole Club. Not to give him his Head at first.
Not to allow him too great Freedoms and Familiarities.
Not to be treated b him like a raw Girl, but as a Woman
that knows the Whrld. Not to lessen any thing of her
former Figure. To celebrate the Generosity, or any
other Virtue, of a deceased Husband, which she would
recommend to his Successor. To turn away all his old
Friends and Servants, that she may have the dear Man
to her self. To make him dismherit the undutiful
Children of any former Wife. Never to be thoroughly
convinced of his Affection, ’till he has made over to her
all his Goods and Chattels.
After so long a Letter, I am, without more Ceremony,
Your humble Servant, he}
No. 562.
[ADDISON] . Friday, july 2.
———Praesens, absens ut sies.~—Ter.
T is a hard and nice Subject for a Man to speak of
himself, says Cowley; it grates his own Heart to
say any thing of Disparagement, and the Reader's Ears
to hear any thing of Praise from him. Let the Tenouré
o
THE SPECTATOR 25
of his Discourse be what it will upon this Subject, it No. 562;
generall proceeds from Vanity. An ostentatious Man Friday.
will rat er relate a Blunder or an Absurdity he has '
committed, than be debarred from talking of his own
dear Person.
Some very great Writers have been guilty of this
Fault. It is observed of Tully in particular, that his
Works run very much in the First Person, and that he
takes all Occasions of doing himself Justice. ‘Does he
think,’ says Brutus, ‘that his Consulship deserves more
Applause than my putting Caesar to Death, because I
am not perpetually talking of the Ides of March, as he
is of the Nones of December?’ I need not acquaint my
learned Reader, that in the Ides of March Brutus de/
stroyed Caesar, and that Cicero quashed the Conspiracy
of Cataline in the Calends of December. How shocking
soever this great Man's talking of himself might have
been to his Contemporaries, I must confess I am never
better pleased than when he is on this Subject. Such
Openings of the Heart give a Man a thorough Insight
into his Personal Character, and illustrate several Passages
in the History of his Life; Besides, that there is some
little Pleasure in discovering the Infirmity of a great
Man, and seeing how the Opinion he has of himself
agrees with what the World entertains of him.
The Gentlemen of Port/Royal, who were more eminent
for their Learning and their Humility than any other in
France, banished the way of speaking in the First Person
out of all their Works, as arising from Vain/Glory and
Self/Conceit. To shew their particular Aversion to it,
they branded this Form of Writing with the Name of
an Egotism; a Figure not to be found among the ancient
Rhetoricians.
The most violent Egotism which I have met with
in the Course of my Reading, is that of Cardinal Woolsey,
Ego 8 Rex meus, I and my King; as perhaps the most
eminent Egotist that ever appeared in the World, was
Montagne the Author of the celebrated Essays. This
lively old Gascon has woven all his bodily Infirmities
into his Works, and after having spoken of the Faults
or Virtues of any other Man, immediately publishes trio
e
26 THE SPECTATOR
1'1 a
My 3?
l7l4.
the World how it stands with himself in that Particular.
Had he kept his own Counsel he might have passed
for a much better Man, tho' perhaps he would not
have been so diverting an Author. The Title of an
Essay promises perhaps a Discourse upon Virgil or
julius Caesar; but when you look into it, you are
sure to meet with more upon Monsieur Montagne than
of either of them. The younger Scaliger, who seems
to have been no great Friend to this Author, after having
acquainted the World that his Father sold Herrings, adds '
these Words; La grande fadaise de Montagne, qui a
écrit qu’il aimoit mieux le vin blanc———que diable
art/on a faire de scavoir ce qu'il aime .7 For my Part,
says Montagne, I am a great Lover of your White
Wines What the Devil signifies it to the Publick,
says Scaliger, whether he is a Lover of White Wines or
of Red Wines !
I cannot here forbear mentioning a Tribe of Egotists
for whom I have always had a mortal Aversion, I mean
the Authors of Memoirs, who are never mentioned in
any Works but their own, and who raise all their Pro/
ductions out of this single Figure of Speech.
Most of our modern Prefaces savour very strongly
of the Egotism. Every insignificant Author fancies it
of Importance to the World, to know that he writ his
Book in the Country, that he did it to pass away some
of his idle Hours, that it was published at the Impor/
tunity of Friends, or that his natural Temper, Studies
or Conversations, directed him to the Choice of his
Subject.

—-—— Id populuscurat scilicet.
lSauch Informations cannot but be highly improving to the
eader.
In Works of Humour, especially when a Man writes
under a fictitious Personage, the talking of one's self may
give some Diversion to the Publick; but I would advise
every other Writer never to speak of himself, unless
there be something very considerable in his Character:
Tho' I am sensible this Rule will be of little Use in the
World, because there is no Man who fancies his Though:
wort
THE SPECTATOR 27
worth publishing, that does not look upon himself as a No. 562.
considerable Person. PM?"
I shall close this Paper with a Remark upon such as '
are Egotists in Conversation: These are generally the '
vain or shallow Part of Mankind, People being naturally
full of themselves when they have nothing else in them.
There is one kind of Egotists which is very common in
the World, tho' I do not remember that any Writer has
taken Notice of them; I mean those empty conceited
Fellows, who repeat as Sayings of their own, or some
of their particular Friends, several jests which were made
before they were born, and which every one who has
conversed in the World has heard a hundred times over.
A forward young Fellow of my Acquaintance was very
guilty of this Absurdity; He would be always laying a
new Scene for some old Piece of Wit, and telling us, That
as he and jack such/a/one were together, one or t'other
of them had such a Conceit on such an Occasion; upon
which he would laugh very heartily, and wonder the Com/
pany did not join with him. When his Mirth was over,
I have often reprehended him out of Terence, Tuumne,
obsecro te, hoc dictum erat .7 vetus credidi. But finding
him still incorrigible, and having a Kindness for the you
Coxcomb, who was otherwise a good/natured Fellow,
recommended to his Perusal the Oxford and Cambridge
Iests, with several little Pieces of Pleasantry of the same
Nature. Upon the reading of them, he was under no
small Confusion to find that all his Jokes had passed
through several Editions, and that what he thought was
a new Conceit, and had appropriated to his own Use, had
appeared in Print before he or his ingenious Friends were
ever heard of. This had so good an Effect upon him,
that he is content at present to pass for a Man of plain
Sense in his ordinary Conversation, and is never facetious
but when he knows his Company.


W. Y Monday
28
THE SPECTATOR
lo. 563.
Ionday,
714.
No. 563.
Monday, July 5.
Magni nominis umbra.—Lucan.
I SHALL entertain my Reader with two ver curious
Letters. The first of them comes from a c imerical
Person, who I believe never writ to any Body before.
‘Sir,
I am descended from the ancient Family of the Blanks,
a Name well known among all Men of Business. It is
always read in those little white Spaces of Writing which
want to be filled up, and which for that Reason are called
blank Spaces, as of Right appertaining to our Family: For
I consider my self as the Lord of a Manor, who lays his
Claim to all Wastes or Spots of Ground that are unappro/
priated. I am a near Kinsman to john a Styles and john
a Nokes; and they, I am told, came in with the Com
ueror. I am mentioned oftener in both Houses of
arliament than any other Person in Great Britain.
My Name is written, or more properly speaking, not
written, thus, . I am one that can turn my Hand
to every thing, and appear under any Shape whatsoever.
I can make my self Man, Woman, or Child. I am some/
times metamorphosed into a Year of our Lord, a Day of
the Month, or an Hour of the Day. I very often reprew
sent a Sum of Money, and am generally the first Subsidy
that is granted to the Crown. I have now and then
supplied the Place of several Thousands of Land Soldiers,
and have as frequently been employed in the Sea Service.
Now, Sir, my Complaint is this, That I am only
made use of to serve a Turn, being always discarded as
soon as a proper Person is found out to fill up my
Place.
If you have ever been in the Play/house before the
Curtain rises, you see most of the front Boxes filled
with Men of my Family, who forthwith turn out, and
resign their Stations upon the Appearance of those for
whom they are retained.
But the most illustrious Branch of the Blanks are
those who are planted in high Posts, ’till such time as
Persons

THE SPECTATOR 29
Persons of greater Consequence can be found out to No. 563.
supply them. One of these Blanks is equally qualified M0115“.
for all Offices; he can serve in time of Need for a 5'
Soldier, a Politician, a Lawyer, or what you please. I '
have known in my Time many a Brother Blank that
has been born under a lucky Planet, heap up great
Riches, and swell into a Man of Figure and Importance,
before the Grandees of his Party could agree among
themselves which of them should step into his Place:
Nay, I have known a Blank continue so long in one
of these vacant Posts (for such it is to be reckoned all
the Time a Blank is in it), that he has grown too
formidable and dangerous to be removed.
But to return to my self. Since I am so very coma
modious a Person, and so very necessary in all well;
regulated Governments, I desire you will take my Case
into Consideration, that I may be no longer made a
Tool of, and only employed to stop a Gap. Such Usage,
without a Pun, makes me look very blank. For all
which Reasons I humbly recommend my self to your
Protection, and am
Your most obedient Servant,
Blank.
P. S. I herewith send you a Paper, drawn up by a
Country/Attorney employed by two Gentlemen, whose
Names he was not acquainted with, and who did not
think fit to let him into the Secret which they were
transacting. I heard him call it a Blank Instrument,
and read it after the following Manner. You may see by
this single Instance of what Use I am to the busy World.
I T. Blank, Esq., of Blank Town, in the County of
Blank, do own my self indebted in the Sum of Blank
to Goodman Blank, for the Service he did me in pro.
curing for me the Goods following, Blank: And I do
hereby promise the said Blank to pay unto him the
said Sum of Blank, on the Blank Day of the Month of
B}ag}tanni{ext ensuing, under the Penalty and Forfeiture
o .'
I shall take Time to consider the Case of this m
imaginary Correspondent, and in the mean while sh I
present
30 THE SPECTATOR
\10. 563.
Monday,
1 5
U
711i. '
present my Reader with a Letter which seems to come
from a Person that is made up of Flesh and Blood.
‘ Good Mr. SPECTATOR,
I am married to a very honest Gentleman that is
exceedingly good/natured, and at the same time very
cholerick. There is no standing before him when he
is in a Passion; but as soon as it is over he is the
best/humour'd Creature in the World. When he is
angry, he breaks all my China Ware that chances to
lie in his Way, and the next Morning sends me in
twice as much as he broke the Day before. I may
positively say, that he has broke me a Child’s Fortune
since we were first marry’d together.
As soon as he begins to fret, down goes every thing
that is within Reach of his Cane. I once prevailed upon
him never to carry a Stick in his Hand, but this saved me
nothing; for upon seeing me do something that did not
please him, he kick'd down a great Iarr, that cost him
above Ten Pound but the Week before. I then laid the
Fragments together in a Heap, and gave him his Cane
again, desiring him that if he chanced to be in Anger, he
would spend his Passion upon the China that was broke to
his Hand: But the very next Day upon my giving a
wrong Message to one of the Servants, he flew into such
a Ra e, that he swept down a Dozen Tea/Dishes, which, to
m isfortune, stood very convenient for a Side/Blow.
T then removed all my China into a Room which he
never frequents; but I got nothing by this neither, for my
Looking/Glasses immediately went to Rack.
In short, Sir, whenever he is in a Passion he is angry
at every thing that is brittle; and if on such Occasions he
had nothing to vent his Rage upon,I do not know whether
my Bones would be in Safety. Let me beg of you, Sir, to
let me know whether there be any Cure for this unac/
countable Distemper; or if not, that you will be pleased
to publish this Letter: For my Husband having a great
Veneration for your Writings, will by that Means know
you do not approve of his Conduct.
I am,
Your most humble Servant, fic.’
Wednesday
THE SPECTATOR 31

' No. 5644
NO. 564, Wednes/
Wednesday, July 7. day,
Adsif My 7'
1714.
Regula, peccatis quae poenas irroget aequas :
Ne scutica dignum horribih' sectere flageHor—Hor,
T is the Work of a Philosopher to be every Day
subduing his Passions, and laying aside his Prejudices,
I endeavour at least to look upon Men and their Actions
only as an impartial Spectator, without any Regard to them
as they happen to advance or cross my own private
Interest. But while I am thus employed my self, I cannot
hel observing, how those about me suffer themselves to
be linded by Prejudice and Inclination, how readily they
pronounce on every Man’s Character, which they can
give in two Words, and make him either good for nothing,
or qualified for every thing. On the contrary, those who
search thoroughly into humane Nature, will find it much
more difficult to determine the Value of their Felloww
Creatures, and that Men’s Characters, are not thus to be
given in general Words. There is indeed no such thing
as a Person entirely good or bad; Virtue and Vice are
blended and mixed together, in a greater or less Propor/
tion, in every one; and if you would search for some
particular good Quality in its most eminent Degree of
Perfection, you will often find it in a Mind, where it is
darkened and eclipsed by an hundred other irregular
Passions.
Men have either no Character at all, says a celebrated
Author, or it is that of being inconsistent with themselves,
They find it easier to ioin Extremities, than to be uniform
and of a Piece. This is finely illustrated in Xenophon's
Life of Cyrus the Great. That Author tells us, That Cyrus
having taken a most beautiful Lady, named Pantbea,
the Wife of Abradatas, committed her to the Custody of
Araspas, a young Persian Nobleman, who had a little
before maintained in Discourse, That a Mind truly virtuous
was incapable of entertaining an unlawful Passion, The
oung Gentleman had not long been in Possession of his
iair Captive, when a Complaint was made to Cyrus, that
he not only sollicited the Lady Pan thee to receive him
e
32 THE SPECTATOR
o. 564. the Room of her absent Husband, but that finding his
films“ Entreaties had no Effect, he was preparifig to make use of
1"" 7 Force. Cyrus, who loved the young an, immediately
12, ' sent for him, and in a gentle Manner representing to him
his Fault, and putting him in mind of his former Asser/
tion, the unhappy Youth, confounded with a quick Sense
of his Guilt and Shame, burst out into a Flood of Tears,
and spoke as follows.
Oh Cyrus, I am convinced that I have two Souls.
Love has taught me this Piece of Philosophy. If I had
but one Soul, it could not at the same time pant after
Virtue and Vice, wish and abhor the same thing. It
is certain therefore we have two Souls ; When the good
Soul rules. I undertake noble and virtuous Actions I but
when the bad Soul predominates, I am forced to do Evil.
All I can say at present is, that I find my good Soul,
encouraged by your Presence, has got the Better of
my bad.
I know not whether my Readers will allow of this
Piece of Philosophy; but if they will not, they must
confess we meet with as different Passions in one and
the same Soul, as can be supposed in two. We can
hardly read the Life of a great Man who lived in former
Ages, or converse with any who is eminent among our
Contemporaries, that is not an Instance of what I am
saying.
But as I have hitherto only argued against the Parti/
ality and Injustice of giving our Judgment upon Men in
gross, who are such a Composition of Virtues and Vices,
of Good and Evil; I might carry this Reflection still farther,
and make it extend to most of their Actions. If, on the
one Hand, we fairly weighed every Circumstance, we
should frequently find them obliged to do that Action we
at first Sight condemn, in order to avoid another we
should have been much more displeased with. If on the
other Hand we nicely examined such Actions as appear
most dazzling to the Eye, we should find most of them
either deficient and lame in several Parts, produced by a
bad Ambition, or directed to an ill End. The very same
Action may sometimes be so oddly circumstanced, that it
is difficult to determine whether it ought to be rewarded
or
THE SPECTATOR 33
or punished. Those who compiled the Laws of England No. 564.
were so sensible of this, that they have laid it down as Wedflw
one of their first Maxims, It is better suffering a Mis. dalyv 7
chief, than an Incon venience; which is as much as ’
to say in other Words, That since no Law can take in
or provide for all Cases, it is better private Men should
have some Injustice done them, than that a publick
Grievance should not be redressed. This is usually
pleaded in Defence of all those Hardships which fall on
particular Persons in particular Occasions, which could
not be foreseen when a Law was made. To remedy this
however as much as possible, the Court of Chancery
was erected, which frequently mitigates and breaks the
Teeth of the Common Law, in Cases of Men's Properties,
while in Criminal Cases there is a Power of pardoning
still lodged in the Crown.
Notwithstanding this, it is perhaps impossible in a
large Government to distribute Rewards and Punish/
ments strictly proportioned to the Merits of every
Action. The Spartan Common/wealth was indeed
wonderfully exact in this Particular; and I do not re/
member in all my Reading, to have met with so nice
an Example of Justice as that recorded by Plutarch,
with which I shall close my Paper for this Day.
The City of Sparta being unexpectedly attacked by
a powerful Army of Thebans, was in very great Danger
of falling into the Hands of their Enemies. The Citizens
suddenly gathering themselves into a Body, fought with
a Resolution equal to the Necessity of their Affairs; yet
no one so remarkably distinguished himself on this
Occasion, to the Amazement of both Armies, as lsadas
the son of Phoebidas, who was at that time in the Bloom
of his Youth, and very remarkable for the Comeliness
of his Person. He was coming out of the Bath when
the Alarm was given, so that he had not time to put on
his Cloaths, much less his Armour; however, transported
with a Desire to serve his Country in so great an Exia
gency, snatched up a Spear in one Hand, and a Sword
in the other, he flung himself into the thickest Ranks of
his Enemies. Nothing could withstand his Fur : In
what Part soever he fought he put the Enemies to Ftllilght
wi out
34 THE SPECTATOR
lo. 564.
lednes/
ll;
pa.
7.
without receiving a single Wound. Whether, says
Plutarch, he was the particular Care of some God, who
rewarded his Valour that Day with an extraordinary
Protection, or that his Enemies, struck with the Unusual/
ness of his Dress and Beauty of his Shape, supposed him
something more than Man, I shall not determine.
The Gallantry of “this Action was judged so great by
the Spartans, that the Ephori, or chief Magistrates,
decreed he should be presented with a Garland; but as
soon as theyhad done so, fined him a thousand Drachr
mas, for going out to the Battle unarmed.
No. 565.
[ADDISON]
Deum namque ire per omnes
Terrasque, tractusque maris, caelumque profundum.-—-Virg.
Friday, July 9.

WAS Yesterday about Sun/set walking in the open
Fields, 'till the Night insensibly fell upon me. I at
first amused my self with all the Richness and Variety of
Colours, which appeared in the Western Parts of Heaven;
In Proportion as they faded away and went out, several
Stars and Planets appeared one after another, 'till the
whole Firmament was in a Glow. The Blueness of the
fEther was exceedingly heightened and enlivened by the
Season of the Year, and by the Rays of all those Lumin/
aries that passed through it. The Galaxy appeared in
its most beautiful White. To compleat the Scene, the
full Moon rose at length in that clouded Ma'esty, which
Milton takes Notice of, and opened to the ye a new
Picture of Nature, which was more finely shaded, and
disposed among softer Lights, than that which the Sun
had before discovered to us.
As I was surveying the Moon walking in her Bright/
ness, and taking her Progress among the Constellations,
a Thought rose in me which I believe very often perv
plexes and disturbs Men of serious and contemplative
Natures. David himself fell into it in that Reflection,
When I consider the Heavens the work of thy Fingers,
the Moon and the Stars which thou hast ordained;
what is Man, that thou art mindful of him, and éhe
on
THE SPECTATOR 35
Son of Man that thou regardest him! In the same No. 565.
manner, when I considered that infinite Host of Stars, or, Frida .
to speak more Philoso hically, of Suns, which were then '
shining upon me, wi those innumerable Sets of Planets '
or Worlds, which were moving round their respective
Suns: when I still enlarged the Idea, and supposed
another Heaven of Suns and Worlds rising still above
this which we discovered, and these still enlightened by
a superior Firmament of Luminaries, which are planted
at so great a Distance that they may appear to the 1w
habitants of the former as the Stars do to us; In short,
whilst I pursued this Thought, I could not but reflect on
that little insignificant Figure which I my self bore
amidst the Immensity of God's Works.
Were the Sun, which ' htens this Part of the
Creation, with all the Host 0 Planetary Worlds that
move about him, utterly extinguished and annihilated,
they would not be miss'd more than a Grain of Sand
upon the Sea/shore. The Space they possess is so ex/
ceedingly little, in Comparison of the whole, that it
would scarce make a Blank in the Creation. The
Chasm would be imperceptible to an Eye, that could
take in the whole Compass of Nature, and pass from
one End of the Creation to the other, as it is possible
there may be such a Sense in our selves hereafter, or
in Creatures which are at present more exalted than
our selves. We see many Stars by the Help of Glasses,
which we do not discover with our naked Eyes; and
the finer our Telescopes are, the more still are our Dis/
coveries. Huygenius carries this Thought so far, that
he does not think it impossible there may be Stars
whose Light is not yet travelled down to us, since their
first Creation. There is no Question but the Universe
has certain Bounds set to it: but when we consider that
is the Work of infinite Power, prompted by infinite
Goodness, with an infinite Space to exert it self in, how
can our Imagination set any Bounds to it?
To return therefore to my first Thought, I could not
but look upon my self with secret Horror as a Being, that
was not worth the smallest Regard of one who had so
great a Work under his Care and Superintendency. I

was
36 THE SPECTATOR
ad 565.
1 ay,
fly 9
14.
t
i
was afraid of being overlooked amidst the Immensity of
Nature, and lost among that infinite Variety of Creatures,
which in all Probabilit swarm through all these im/
measurable Regions of Matter.
In order to recover my self from this mortifying
Thought I considered that it took its Rise from those
narrow Conceptions, which we are apt to entertain of
the Divine Nature. We our selves cannot attend to many
different Objects at the same time. If we are careful to
inspect some Things, we must of Course neglect others.
This Imperfection which we observe in our selves, is an
Imperfection that cleaves in some Degree to Creatures
of the hi hest Capacities, as they are Creatures, that is,
Beings of finite and limited Natures. The Presence of
every created Being is confined to a certain Measure of
Space, and consequently his Observation is stinted to a
certain Number of Objects. The Sphere in which we
move, and act, and understand, is of a wider Circumfer/
ence, to one Creature than another, according as we rise
one above another in the Scale of Existence. But the
widest of these our Spheres has its Circumference. When
therefore we reflect on the Divine Nature, we are so used
and accustomed to this Imperfection in our selves, that we
cannot forbear in some measure ascribing it to him, in
whom there is no Shadow of Imperfection. Our Reason
indeed assures us, that his Attributes are infinite, but
the Poorness of our Conceptions is such, that it cannot
forbear setting Bounds to every thing it contemplates, ’till
our Reason comes again to our Succour, and throws down
all those little Prejudices which rise in us unawares, and
are natural to the Mind of Man.
We shall therefore utterly extinguish this melancholy
Thought, of our being overlooked by our Maker in the
Multiplicity of his Works, and the Infinity of those Objects
among which he seems to be incessantly employed, if we
consider, in the first place, that he is Omnipresent; and, in
the second, that he is Omniscient.
If we consider him in his Omnipresence: His Being
passes throu h, actuates and supports the whole Frame
of Nature. is Creation, and every Part of it, is full of
him. There is nothing he has made, that is eitger so
istant
THE SPECTATOR 37
distant, so little, or so inconsiderable, which he does not No. 565.
essentially inhabit. His Substance is within the Substance Fridagv
of every Being, whether material, or immaterial, and as '
intimately present to it, as that Being is to it self. It would '
be an Imperfection in him, were he able to remove out of
one Place into another, or to withdraw himself from any
thing he has created, or from any Part of that Space which
is diffused and spread abroad to Infinity. In short, to speak
. of him in the Language of the old Philosopher, he is a
Being whose Centre is every where, and his Circumfer.
ence no where.
In the second Place, he is Omniscient as well as Omni/
present. His Omniscience indeed necessarily and natur/
ally flows from his Omnipresence; he cannot but be
conscious of every Motion that arises in the whole
material World, which he thus essentially pervades, and
of every Thought that is stirring in the intellectual World,
to every Part of which he is thus intimately united.
Several Moralists have considered the Creation as the
Temple of God, which he has built with his own Hands,
and which is filled with his Presence. Others have
considered infinite Space as the Receptacle, or rather the
Habitation of the Almighty: But the noblest and most
exalted way of considering this infinite Space is that of
Sir Isaac Newton, who calls it the .S’ensorium of the
Godhead. Brutes and Men have their Sensoriola, or
little Sensoriums, by which they apprehend the Pres/
ence, and perceive the Actions of a few Objects that lie
contiguous to them. Their Knowledge and Observa.
tion turn within a very narrow Circle. But as God
Almighty cannot but perceive and know every in which he resides, Infinite Space gives Room to in»
finite Knowledge, and is, as it were, an Organ to
Omniscience.
Were the Soul separate from the Body, and with one
Glance of Thought should start beyond the Bounds of the
Creation, should it for Millions of Years continue its
Progress through infinite Space with the same Activity,
it would still find it self within the Embrace of its Creator,
and encompassed round with the Immensity of the God;
head. Whilst we are in the Body he is not less present

with
38 THE SPECTATOR
lo’.d 565.
n a ,
11 ;
mi. '
with us, because he is concealed from us. 0 that I knew
where I might find him! says job. Behold I go fora
ward, but he is not there; and backward, but I cannot
perceive him. On the left hand, where he does work.
but I cannot behold him I he hideth himself on the
right hand that I cannot see him. In short, Reason as
well as Revelation assures us, that he cannot be absent
from us, notwithstanding he is undiscovered by us.
In this Consideration of God Almighty’s Omnipre/
sence and Omniscience, every uncomfortable Thought
vanishes. He cannot but regard every thing that has
Being, especially such of his Creatures who fear they
are not regarded by him. He is ivy to all their
Thoughts, and to that Anxiety of cart in particular,
which is apt to trouble them on this Occasions For, as
it is impossible he should overlook any of his Creatures,
so we may be confident that he regards, with an Eye of
Mercy, those who endeavour to recommend themselves
to his Notice, and in an unfeigned Humility of Heart
thing: themselves unworthy that he should be mindful
o t em.
No. 566.
Monday, July 12.
Militiae species amor est.——~Ovid.
S my Correspondents begin to grow pretty numer/
ous, I think my self obliged to take some Notice
of them, and shall therefore make this Paper a Miscellany
of Letters. I have, since my reassuming the Office of
SPECFATOR, received abundance of Epistles from Gentlemen
of the Blade, who, I find, have been so used to Action
that they know not how to lie still. They seem genera
ally to be of Opinion, that the Fair at home. ought to
reward them for their Services abroad, and that, till the
Cause of their Country calls them again into the Field,
they have a sort of Right to quarter themselves upon
the Ladies. In order to favour their Approaches, I am
desired by some to enlarge upon the Accomplishments
of their Profession, and by others to give them my
Advice in the carrying on of their Attacks. But let us
hear what the Gentlemen say for themselves. M
' r.
THE SPECTATOR 39
‘ Mr. Srscm'ron,
Tho' it may look somewhat perverse amidst the Arts Iglv ‘2'
of Peace, to talk too much of War, it is but Gratitude
to pay the last Office to its Manes, since even Peace
it self is, in some Measure, obliged to it for its Being.
You have, in your former Papers, always recomv
mended the Accomplished to the Favour of the Fair;
and, I hope, you will allow me to represent some Part
of a Militar Life not altogether unnecessary to the
forming a entleman. I need not tell you that in
France, whose Fashions we have been formerly so
fond of, almost every one derives his Pretences to
Merit from the Sword; and that a Man has scarce
the Face to make his Court to a Lady, without some
Credentials from the Service to recommend him. As
the Profession is very ancient, we have Reason to think
some of the greatest Men, among the old Romans,
derived many of their Virtues from it, their Comv
manders being frequently, in other Respects, some
of the most shining Characters of the Age.
The Army not only gives a Man Opportunities of
exercising those two great Virtues Patience and Courage,
but often produces them in Minds where they had scarce
any Footing before. I must add, that it is one of the best
Schools in the World to receive a general Notion of Man/
kind in, and a certain Freedom of Behaviour, which is not
so easily acquired in any other Place. At the same time
I must own, that some Military Airs are pretty em,
ordinary, and that a Man who goes into the Army a
Coxcomb, will come out of it a sort of publick Nuisances
But a Man of Sense, or one who before had not been
sufficientl used to a mixed Conversation, generally takes
the true urn. The Court has in all Ages been allowed
to be the Standard of Good/breeding; and I believe there
is not a juster Observation in Monsieur Rochefo uca ult,
than that A Man who has been bred up wholly to
Business, can never get the Air of a Courtier at Court,
but will immediately catch it in the Camp. The Reason
of this most certainly is, that the very Essence of Good!
breeding and Politeness consists in several Niceties,
NO: Monday,


which
40 THE SPECTATOR
o. 566. which are so minute that they escape his Observation,
1”???“ and he falls short of the Original he would copy after;
‘73}; ' but when he sees the same things charged and aggra/
' vated to a Fault, he no sooner endeavours to come up
to the Pattern which is set before him, than, tho’ he
stops somewhat short of that, he naturally rests where
in Reality he ought. I *was, two or three Days ago,
mightily pleased with the Observation of an humorous
Gentleman upon one of his Friends, who was in other
Respects every way an accomplished Person, That he
wanted nothing but a Dash of the Coxcomb in him I
b which he understood a little of that Alertness and
nconcern in the common Actions of Life, which is
usually so visible among Gentlemen of the Army, and
which a Campaign or two would infalliny have given
You will easily guess, Sir, by this my Panegyrick upon
a Military Education, that I am my self a Soldier, and ind
deed I am so. I remember, within three Years after I
had been in the Army, 1 was ordered into the Country
a Recruiting. I had very particular Success in this Part
of the Service, and was over and above assured, at my
going away, that I might have taken a young Lady, who
was the most considerable Fortune in the Country, along
with me. I preferred the Pursuit of Fame at that time
to all other Considerations, and tho’ I was not absolutely
bent on a wooden Leg, resolved at least to get a Scar or
two for the Good of Europe. I have at present as much
as I desire of this sort of Honour, and if you could recom/
mend me effectually, should be well enough contented
to pass the Remainder of my Days in the Arms of some
dear kind Creature, and upon a pretty Estate in the
Country. This, as I take it, would be following the
Example of Lucius Cincinnatus, the old Roman Dictator,
who at the End of a War left the Camp to follow the
Plow. I am, Sir, with all imaginable Respect,
Your most Obedient,
Humble Servant,
Will Warly.’
‘ Mr.
THE SPECTATOR 41
‘ Mr. SPECTATOR, No. 566.
I am an Half/pay Officer, and am at present with a 37’
Friend in the Country. Here is a rich Widow in the 1714,
Neighbourhood, who has made Fools of all the Fox/
hunters within fifty Miles of her. She declares she in/
tends to marry, but has not yet been asked by the Man
she could like. She usually admits her humble Admirers
to an Audience or two, but, after she has once given
them Denial, will never see them more. I am assured
by a Female Relation, that I shall have fair Play at her;
but as my whole Success depends on my first Approaches,
I desire your Advice, whether I had best Storm, or pro/
ceed by way of Sap.
I am, Sir,
Yours, dc.
P. S. I had forgot to tell you, that I have already carried
one of her Out/works, that is, secured her Maid.’
‘Mr. SPECTATOR,
I have assisted in several Sieges in the Low Countries,
and being still willing to employ my Talents, as a Soldier
and Engineer, lay down this Morning at Seven a Clock
before the Door of an obstinate Female, who had for
some time refused me Admittance. I made a Lodgment
in an outer Parlour about Twelve: The Enemy retired to
her Bed/Chamber, yet I still pursued, and about Two a
Clock this Afternoon she thought fit to Capitulate. Her
Demands are indeed somewhat high, in relation to the
Settlement of her Fortune. But being in Possession of
the House, I intend to insist upon Carte Blanche, and am
in hopes, by keeping off all other Pretenders for the Space
of twenty four Hours, to starve her into a Compliance.
I beg your speedy Advice, and am,
Sir, Yours,
Peter Push.
From my Camp in Red/Lion Square, Saturday 4 in the
Afternoon.’
Wednesday
42 THE SPECTATOR
3:15:16; No. 567. .
a , [ADDISONI] Wednesday, July 14.
if," 14, -—- Inceptus clamor frustratur hiantes.--Virg.
I HAVE received private Advice from some of my
Correspondents, that if I would give my Paper a
general Run, I should take Care to season it with Scandal.
I have indeed observed of late, that few Writings sell which
are not filled with great Names and illustrious Titles. The
Reader generally casts his Eye upon a new Book, and if
he finds several Letters separated from one another by a
Dash, he buys it up, and peruses it with great Satisfaction.
An M and an 12, a Tand an r, with a short Line between
them, has sold many an insipid Pamphlet. Nay, I have
known a whole Edition go off by Vertue of two or three
well written 8c 's.
A sprinkling of the Words Faction, Frenchman, Papist,
Plunderer, and the like significant Terms, in an Italick
Character, have also a very good Effect upon the Eye of
the Purchaser: not to mention Scribler, Liar, Rogue,
Rassal, Kna ve, and Villain, without which it is impossible
to carry on a Modern Controversie.
Our Party/writers are so sensible of the secret Virtue of
an Inuendo to recommend their Productions, that of late
they never mention the Q——-—-n or P—-—t at length,
though they speak of them with Honour, and with that
Deference which is due to them from every private Per/
son. It gives a secret Satisfaction to a Peruser of these
mysterious Works, that he is able to decipher them
without Help, and, by the Strength of his own natural
Parts, to fill up a Blank Space, or make out a Word that
has only the first or last Letter to it.
Some of our Authors indeed, when they would be
more Satyrical than ordinary, omit only the Vowels of a
great Man's Name, and fall most unmercifully upon all
the Consonants. This way of writing was first of all
introduced by T/m wan of facetious Memory, who,
after having gutted a Proper Name of all its intermediate
Vowels, used to plant it in his Works, and make as
free with it as be pleased, without any Danger of the
Statute.
That

THE SPECTATOR 43
That I may imitate these celebrated Authors, and No. 567.;
publish a Paper which shall be more taking than ordinary, Wednes’
I have here drawn up a very curious Libel, in which a lull/'14
Reader of Penetration will find a great deal of concealed 1712, '
Satyr, and if he be acquainted with the present Posture of
Affairs, will easily discover the Meaning of it.
' If there are four Persons in the Nation who endeavour
to bring all things into Confusion, and ruin their native
Country, I think every honest EngI/sh/m/n ought to be
upon his Guard. That there are such every one will
agree with me, who hears me name *** with his first
Friend and Favourite ***, not to mention *** nor ***.
These People may cry Ch/rch, CMch, as long as they
please, but, to make use of a homely Proverb, the Proof of
the P/dd/ng is in the eating. This I am sure of, that if
a certain Prince should concur with a certain Prela te,
(and we have Monsieur Z———n's Word for it) our Posterity
would be in a sweet Prekle. Must the British Nation
suffer forsooth, because my Lady O—p—t s has been dis/
obliged? Or is it reasonable that our English Fleet, which
used to be the Terror of the Ocean, should lie Wind/bound
for the sake of a ——-——. I love to speak out and declare
my Mind clearly, when I am talking for the Good of
my Country. I will not make my Court to an ill
Man, though he were a B y or a T t. Nay, I
would not stick to call so wretched a Politician, a
graiéor', an Enemy to his Country, and a Bl/nd/rb/ss,
Cl C!
The remaining Part of this political Treatise, which is
written after the manner of the most celebrated Authors
in Great Britain, I may communicate to the Publick at
a more convenient Season. In the mean while I shall
leave this with my curious Reader, as some ingenious
Writers do their Enigmas, and if any sagacious Person
can fairly unriddle it, I will print his Explanation, and,
if he pleases, acquaint the World with his Name.
I hope this short Essay will convince my Readers, it is
not for want of Abilities that I avoid State/tracts, and
that if I would apply my Mind to it, I might in a little
time be as great a Master of the Political Scratch as
any the most eminent Writer of the Age. I shall oncll'zlr
IV. 2 a



44 THE SPECTATOR
o. 567.
ednes/
Y1
ly 14
14. ’
add, that in order to outshine all the Modern Race of
.S'yncopists, and thoroughly content my English Readers,
I intend shortly to publish a SPECTATOR, that shall not have
a single Vowel in it.
No. 568.
Friday, Iuly 16
Cum recites, incipit esse tuus.——-Mart.
[ADDISON]
I WAS Yesterday in a CoffeewHouse not far from the
Royal Exchange, where I observed three Persons
in close Conference over a Pipe of Tobacco; upon which,
having filled one for my own Use, I lighted it at the little
Wax Candle that stood before them; and after having
thrown in two or three Whiffs amongst them, sat down
and made one of the Company. I need not tell my
Reader, that lighting a Man’s Pipe at the same Candle,
is looked upon amo Brother/smoakers as an Overture
to Conversation and riendship. As we here lay our
Heads together in a very amicable Manner, being in»
trenched under a Cloud of our own raising, I took up the
last SPECTATOR, and casting my Eye over it, The SPECTATOR,
says I, is very witty to Day; upon which a lusty
lethargick old Gentlemen, who sat at the Upper/end of
the Table, having gradually blown out of his Mouth a
great deal of Smoak, which he had been collecting for
some time before, A y, says he, more witty than wise I
am afraid. His Neighbour, who sat at his right Hand,
immediately coloured, and being an angry Politician, laid
down his Pipe with so much Wrath that he broke it
in the Middle, and by that Means furnished me with a
Tobaccoustopper. I took it up very sedately, and looking
him full in the Face, made use of it from time to time
all the while he was speaking: This Fellow, says he,
can’t for his Life keep out of Politiclrs. Do you see how
he abuses four great Men here i I fix'd my Eye very
attentively on the Paper, and asked him if he meant those
who were represented by Asterisks. Asterisks, says he,
do you call them .7 They are all of them Stars. He
might as well have put Garters to ’em. Then pray
do but mind the two or three next Lines I Charch and
Paid/11g

THE SPECTATOR 45
Pvdd/ng in the same Sen tence/ Our Clergy are very No. 568,
much beholden to him. Upon this the third Gentleman, FridaY.
who was of a mild Disposition, and, as I found, a Whig 16'
in his Heart, desired him not to be too severe upon the '
SPECTATOR neither; For, says be, you find he is very
cautious of giving Offence, and has therefore put two
Dashes into his Pudding. A Fig for his Dash, says the
angry Politician. In his next Sentence he gives a plain
Inuendo, that our Posterity will be in a sweet P/ckle.
What does the Fool mean by his Pickle .7 Why does
he not write at length if he means honestly! I have
read over the whole Sentence, says I; but I look upon
the Parenthesis in the Belly of it to be the most danger,
ous Part, and as full of Insin uations as it can hold.
But who, says I, is my Lady O—p——t——s? Ay, Answer
that if you can, Sir, says the furious Statesman to the
poor Whig that sat overwagainst him. But without giving
him Time to reply, I do assure you, says he, were I my
Lady O—p—t—s, I would sue him for Scandalum
Magnatum. What is the World come to 7 Must every
Body be allowed to 7 He had by this time filled a
new Pipe, and applying it to his Lips, when we expected
the last Word of his Sentence, put us off with a Whiff of
Tobacco; which he redoubled with so much Rage and
Trepidation, that he almost stifled the whole Company.
After a short Pause, I owned that I thought the SPECTATOR
had gone too far in writing so many letters of my Lady
Q——-p—t—-s's Name; but however, says I, he has made
a little Amends for it in his next Sentence, where he
leaves a blank Space without so much as a Consonant
to direct us! I mean, says I, after those Words, The
Fleet, that used to be the Terrour of the Ocean, should be
Wind/bound for the sake of a ; after which ensues
a Chasm, that, in my Opinion, looks modest enough.
Sir, says my Antagonist, you may easily know his
Meaning by his Gaping ; I suppose he designs his
Chasm, as you call it, for an Hole to creep out at, but I
believe it will hardly serve his Turn. Who can endure to
see the great Officers of State, the B y’s and T t's
treated after so scurrilous a Manner 7 I can ’t for my
Life, says I, imagine who they are the SPECTATOR mealr‘zls .7
- , o I




l
s
46 THE SPECTATOR
036568.
ay,
1 16
ii. '
No! says he, Your humble Servant, Sir! Upon which
he flung himself back in his Chair after a contemptuous
Manner, and smiled upon the old lethargick Gentleman
on his left Hand, whoI found was his great Admirer. The
Whig however had begun to conceive a Goodwwill towards
me, and seeing my Pipe out, very generously offered me
the Use of his Box; but I declined it with great Civility,
being obliged to meet a Friend about that Time in another
Quarter of the City.
At my leaving the Coffeewhouse, I could not forbear
reflecting with my self upon that gross Tribe of Fools
who may be termed the Over/wise, and upon the Diffi,
culty of writing any thing in this censorious Age, which
a weak Head may not construe into private Satyr and
personal Reflection.
A Man who has a good Nose at an Inuendo, smells
Treason and Sedition in the most innocent Words that
can be put together, and never sees a Vice or Folly
stigmatized, but finds out one or other of his Acquaint.
ance pointed at by the Writer. I remember an empty
pragmatical Fellow in the Country, who upon reading
over the whole Duty of Man, had written the Names
of several Persons in the Village at the Side of every
Sin which is mentioned by that excellent Author; so
that he had converted one of the best Books in the
World into a Libel against the 'Squire, Church/wardens,
Overseers of the Poor, and all other the most considerw
able Persons in the Parish. This Book with these
extraordinary marginal Notes fell accidentally into the
Hands of one who had never seen it before; upon
which there arose a current Report that Some body
had written a Book against the 'Squire and the whole
Parish. The Minister of the Place having at that Time
a Controversy with some of his Congregation upon
the Account of his Tythes, was under some Suspicion
of being the Author, 'till the good Man set his People
right, by shewing them that the satyrical Passages
might be applied to several others of two or three
neighbouring Villages, and that the Book was writ
against all the Sinners in England.

Monday
THE SPECTATOR 47
I 69'
No. 569. fulfil...
[ADDISONJ Monday, Iuly l9. 19.
Reges dicuntur multis urgere culullis
E't torquere mero. quem perspexisse laborant,
An art amicitia dignus. Hor.
O Vices are so incurable as those which Men are
apt to glory in. One would wonder how Drunken!
ness should have the good Luck to be of this Number.
Anacharsis, being invited to a Match of Drinking at
Corinth, demanded the Prize very humorously, because
,he was drunk before any of the rest of the Company;
for, says be, when we run a Race, he who arrives at
the Goal first is entitled to the Reward: On the contrary,
in this thirsty Generation the Honour falls upon him
who carries off the greatest Quantity of Liquor, and
knocks down the rest of the Company. I was the other
Day with honest Will. Funnel] the West Saxon, who was
reckoning up how much Liquor had past through him
in the last twenty Years of his Life, which, according
to his Computation, amounted to twen three Hogsheads
of October, four Ton of Port, Half a ilderkin of small
Beer, nineteen Barrels of Cider, and three Glasses of
Champa' n; besides which, he had assisted at four
hundred owls of Punch, not to mention Sips, Drams,
and Whets without Number. I question not but every
Reader’s Memory will suggest to him several ambitious
young Men, who are as vain in this Particular as Will.
Funnel], and can boast of as glorious Exploits.
Our modern Philosophers observe, that there is a
eneral Decay of Moisture in the Globe of the Earth.
his they chiefly ascribe to the Growth of Vegetables,
which incorporate into their own Substance many fluid
Bodies that never return again to their former Nature;
But, with Submission, they ought to throw into their
Account those innumerable rational Beings which fetch
their Nourishment chiefly out of Liquids; especially
when we consider that Men, compared with their Fellow/
Creatures, drink much more than comes to their Share.
But however highly this Tribe of People may think
of themselves, a drunken Man is a greater Monster than
any

48 THE SPECTATOR


any that is to be found among all the Creatures which
God has made; as indeed there is no Character which
appears more despicable and deformed, in the Eyes of all
reasonable Persons, than that of a Drunkard. Bones us,
one of our own Countrymen, who was addicted to this
Vice, having set up for a Share in the Roman Empire,
and being defeated in a great Battle, hang'd himself.
When he was seen by the Army in this melancholy
Situation, notwithstanding he had behaved himself very
bravely, the common jest was, That the Thing they
saw hanging upon the Tree before them, was not a
Man but a Bottle. ,
This Vice has very fatal Effects on the Mind, the
Body, and Fortune of the Person who is devoted to it.
In regard to the Mind, it first of all discovers every
Flaw in it. The sober Man, by the Strength of Reason,
may keep under and subdue every Vice or Folly to
which he is most inclined; but Wine makes every
latent Seed sprout up in the Soul, and shew it self; it
gives Fury to the Passions, and Force to those Objects
which are apt to produce them. When a you Fellow
complained to an old Philosopher that his ife was ,
not handsome, Put less Water in your Wine, says the
Philosopher, and you’ll quickly make her so. .Wine
heightens Indifference into Love, Love into Iealousie,
and Iealousie into Madness. It often turns the Good/
natured Man into an Ideot, and the Cholerick into an
Assassin. It gives Bitterness to Resentment, it makes
Vanity insupportable, and displays every little Spot of
the Soul in its utmost Deformity.
Nor does this Vice only betray the hidden Faults of
a Man, and shew them in the most odious Colours, but
often occasions Faults to which he is not naturally
subject. There is more of Turn than of Truth in a
Saying of Seneca, That Drunkenness does not produce
but discover Faults. Common Experience teaches us the
contrary. Wine throws a Man out of himself, and
infuses Qualities into the Mind, which she is a Stranger
to in her sober Moments. The Person you converse
with, after the third Bottle, is not the same Man who
at first sat down at Table with you. Upon this Maxim
1s
THE SPECTATOR 49
is founded one of the prettiest Sayings I ever met with, No. 569
which is ascribed to Publius Syrus, Oui" ehrium ludificat Mmdal
laedit absentem: He who jests upon a Man that is drunk.19'
injures the Absent. '
Thus does Drunkenness act in direct Contradiction to
Reason, whose Business it is to clear the Mind of every
Vice which is crept into it, and to guard it against all
the Approaches of any that endeavours to make its
Entrance. But besides these ill Effects which this Vice
oduces in the Person who is actually under its
gominion, it has also a bad Influence on the Mind even
in its sober Moments; as it insensiny weakens the
Understanding, impairs the Memory, and makes those
Faults habitual which are produced by frequent Excesses.
I should now proceed to shew the ill Effects which
this Vice has on the Bodies and Fortunes of Men; but
these I shall reserve for the Subject of some future Paper.
No. 570.
Wednesday, July 21.
———Nugaeque canorae.-Hor.
THERE is scarce a Man living who is not actuated
by Ambition. When this Principle meets with
an honest Mind and great Abilities, it does infinite
Service to the World: on the contrary, when a Man
only thinks of distin uishing himself, without being
thus qualified for it, e becomes a very pernicious
or a very ridiculous Creature. I shall here confine my
self to that petty kind of Ambition, by which some Men
grow eminent for odd Accomplishments and trivial Per/
formances. How many are there whose whole Reputa.
tion depends upon a Punn or a Ouibble? You may often
see an Artist in the Streets gain a Circle of Admirers,
by carrying a long Pole upon his Chin or Forehead in
a perpendicular Posture. Ambition has taught some to
write with their Feet, and others to walk upon their
Hands. Some tumble into Fame, others grow immortal
by throwing themselves through a Hoop.
Caetera de genere hoc adeo sunt multa, loquacem
Delassare valent Fabium

50 THE SPECTATOR
. 570.
ednes/
v
y. 21,
I am led into this Train of Thought by an Adventure
I lately met with.
I was the other Day at a Tavern, where the Master
of the House accommodating us himself with every thing
we wanted, I accidentally fell into a Discourse with him;
and talking of a certain great Man, who shall be name»
less, he told me, That he had sometimes the Honour
to treat him with a Whistle; (adding by the way of
Parenthesis) For you must know, Gentlemen, that ]
whistle the best of any Man in Europe. This naturally
put me upon desiring him to give us a sample of his
Art; upon which he called for a CasevKnife, and
applying the Edge of it to his Mouth, converted it into
a musical Instrument, and entertained me with an Italian
Solo. Upon laying down the Knife, he took up a Pair
of clean Tobacco/Pipes; and after having slid the small
End of them over the Table in a most melodious Trill,
he fetched a Tune out of them, whistling to them at
the same time in Consort. In short, the Tobacco/Pipes
became Musical Pipes in the Hands of our Virtuoso;
who confessed to me ingenuously, he had broke such
Quantities of them, that he had almost broke himself, be»
fore he had brought this Piece of Musick to any tolerable
Perfection. I then told him I would bring a Company
of Friends to dine with him the next Week, as an End
couragement to his Ingenuity; upon which he thanked
me, saying, That he would provide himself with a new
FryingaPan against that Day. I replied, That it was no
Matter; Roast and Boiled would serve our Turn. He
smiled at my Simplicity, and told me, That it was his
Design to give us a Tune upon it. As I was surprised
at such a Promise, he sent for an old Frying/Pan, and
grating it upon the Board, whistled to it in such a
melodious Manner, that you could scarce distinguish
it from a Base/Viol. He then took his Seat with us at
the Table, and hearing my Friend that was with me
humm over a Tune to himself, he told him if he would
sing out he would accompany his Voice with a Tobacco.
Pipe. As my Friend has an agreeable Base, he chose
rather to sing to the Frying/Pan; and indeed between
them they made up a most extraordinary Consort.
Finding
THE SPECTATOR 51
Finding our Landlord so great a Proficient in Kitchen/ No. 570
Musick, I asked him if he was Master of the Tongs and wedm"
Key. He told me that he had laid it down some Years 1317’ 2,,
since, as a little unfashionable; but that if I pleased he 1714?,
would give me a Lesson upon the Gridiron. He then
informed me that he had added two Bars to the Gridiron,
in order to give it a greater Compass of Sound; and I
perceived was as well pleased with the Invention, as
Sappho could have been upon adding two Strings to the
Lute. To be short, I found that his whole Kitchen was
furnished with musical Instruments; and could not but
look upon this Artist as a kind of Burlesque Musician.
He afterwards of his own Accord fell into the Imitation
of several Singing/Birds. My Friend and I toasted our
Mistresses to the Nightingale, when all of a sudden we
were surprised with the Musick of the Thrush. He next
proceeded to the Sky/Lark, mounting up by a proper
Scale of Notes, and afterwards falling to the Ground with
a ver easie and regular Descent. He then contracted
his Wyhistle to the Voice of several Birds of the smallest
Size. As he is a Man of a larger Bulk and higher Stature
than ordinary, you would fancy him a Giant when you
look'd upon him, and a Tom/Tit when you shut your
Eyes. I must not omit acquainting my Reader, that this
accomplished Person was formerly the Master of a Toy.
shop near Temple/Bar; and that the famous Charles
Mathers was bred up under him. I am told that the
Misfortunes which he has met with in the World, are
chiefly owing to his great Application to his Musick; and
therefore cannot but recommend him to my Readers as
one who deserves their Favour, and may afford them great
Diversion over a Bottle of Wine, which he sells at the
Queen's Arms, near the End of the little Piazza in
Covent/ Garden.
No. 571.
[ADDISONJ Friday, July 23.
—-—-—Caelum quid quaerimus ultra l—Luc.
S the Work, I have engaged in, will not only com
sist of Papers of Humour and Learnin , but of
several Essays Moral and Divine, I shall pu lish the
following
52 THE SPECTATOR
‘Jo. 571. following one, which is founded on a former SPECTATOR,
WW. and sent me by a particular Friend, not questioning but
23' it will please such of my Readers as think it no Dis.
Y ' paragement to their Understandings to give way some!
times to a serious Thought.
‘Sir,
In your Paper of Friday the 9th Instant, you had Occaa
sion to consider the Ubiquity of the Godhead, and, at the
same time, to shew, that as he is present to every thing,
he cannot but be attentive to every thing, and privy to
all the Modes and Parts of its Existence; or, in other
Words, that his Omniscience and Omnipresence are co.
existent, and run together through the whole Infinitude
of Space. This Consideration might furnish us with
many Incentives to Devotion and Motives to Morality,
but as this Subject has been handled by several excellent
Writers, I shall consider it in a Light wherein I have not
seen it placed by others.
First, How disconsolate is the Condition of an intela
lectual Being who is thus present with his Maker, but,
at the same time, receives no extraordinary Benefit or
Advantage from this his Presence!
Secondly, How deplorable is the Condition of an in/
tellectual Being, who feels no other Effects from this his
Presence but such as proceed from Divine Wrath and
Indignationl
Thirdly, How happy is the Condition of that intel/
lectual Being, who is sensible of his Maker’s Presence
from! the secret Effects of his Mercy and Loving/kind,
ness
First, How disconsolate is the Condition of an intela
lectual Being, who is thus present with his Maker, but,
at the same time, receives no extraordinary Benefit or
Advantage from this his Presence! Every Particle of
Matter is actuated by this Almighty Being which passes
through it. The Heavens and the Earth, the Stars and
Planets, move and gravitate by Vertue of this great
Principle within them. All the dead Parts of Nature
are invigorated by the Presence of their Creator, and
made capable of exerting their respective Qualities. The
several

M I’
“>“>‘
as:
THE SPECTATOR 53
several Instincts, in the brute Creation, do likewise operate No.'57l
and work towards the several Ends which are agreeable Friday,
to them by this Divine Energy. Man only, who does 3‘
not cowoperate with this holy Spirit, and is unattentive '
to his Presence, receives none of those Advantages from
it, which are perfective of his Nature and necessary to
his Wellnbeing. The Divinity is with him, and in him,
and every where about him, but of no Advantage to him.
It is the same thing to a Man without Religion, as if there
were no God in the World. It is indeed impossible for
an infinite Being to remove himself from any of his
Creatures, but tho' he cannot withdraw his Essence from
us, which would argue an Imperfection in him, he can
withdraw from us all the Joys and Consolations of it.
His Presence may perhaps be necessary to support us
in our Existence; but he may leave this our Existence
to it self, with regard to its Happiness or Misery. For,
in this Sense, he may cast us away from his Presence,
and take his holy Spirit from us. This single Considera,
tion one would think sufficient to make us open our
Hearts to all those Infusions of Joy and Gladness which
are so near at Hand, and ready to be poured in upon us;
especially when we consider, Secondly, The deplorable
Condition of an intellectual Being who feels no other
Effects from his Maker’s Presence, but such as proceed
from Divine Wrath and Indignationl
We may assure our selves, that the great Author of
Nature will not always be as one, who is indifferent to
any of his Creatures. Those who will not feel him in
his Love, will be sure at length to feel him in his Dis,
pleasure. And how dreadful is the Condition of that
Creature, who is only sensible of the Being of his Creator
by what he suffers from him! He is as essentially
present in Hell as in Heaven, but the Inhabitants of
those accursed Places behold him only in his Wrath, and
shrink within their Flames to conceal themselves from
him. It is not in the Power of Imagination to conceive
the fearful Effects of Omnipotence incensed.
But I shall only consider the Wretchedness of an
intellectual Being, who, in this Life, lies under the Dis/
pleasure of him, that at all Times and in all Places is
intimately

54 THE SPECTATOR
’ 57!.
Ba,
1
intimately united with him. He is able to disquiet the
Soul, and vex it in all its Faculties. He can hinder any
of the greatest Comforts of Life from refreshing us, and
ive an Edge to every one of its slightest Calamities.
ho then can bear the Thought of being an Out/cast
from his Presence, that is, from the Comforts of it, or of
feeling it only in its Terrors? How pathetick is that
Expostulation of job, when, for the Trial of his Patience,
he was made to look upon himself in this deplorable
condition! Why hast thou set me as a Mark against
thee, so that I am become a Burden to my self .’ But,
Thirdly, how happy is the Condition of that intellectual
Being, who is sensible of his Maker's Presence from the
secret Effects of his Mercy and Lovi wkindnessl
The Blessed in Heaven behold himnTace to Face, that
is, are as sensible of his Presence as we are of the
Presence of any Person whom we look upon with our
Eyes. There is doubtless a Faculty in Spirits, by which
they apprehend one another, as our Senses do material
Objects; and there is no Question but our Souls, when
they are disembodied, or laced in glorified Bodies,
will by this Faculty, in w atever Part of Space they
reside, be always sensible of the Divine Presence. We,
who have this Veil of Flesh standing between us and
the World of Spirits, must be content to know that the
Spirit of God is present with us, by the Effects which he
produceth in us. Our outward Senses are too gross to
apprehend him; we may however taste and see how
gracious he is, by his Influence upon our Minds, by
those virtuous Thoughts which he awakens in us, by
those secret Comforts and Refreshments which he con/
veys into our Souls, and by those ravishing ons and
inward Satisfactions, which are perpetually springing
up, and diffusing themselves among all the Thoughts of
good Men. He is lodged in our very Essence, and is as
a Soul within the Soul to irradiate its Understanding,
rectifie its Will, purifie its Passions, and enliven all the
Powers of Man. How happy therefore is an Intellectual
Being, who, by Prayer and Meditation, by Virtue and
good Works, opens this Communication between God and
his own Soul! Tho' the whole Creation frowns u pn
THE SPECTATOR 55
him, and all Nature looks black about him, he has his No. 571.
Light and Support within him, that are able to cheer his Friday.
Mind, and bear him up in the Midst of all those Horrors 3'
which encompass him. He knows that his Helper is '
at Hand, and is always nearer to him than any thing
else can be, which is capable of annoying or terrifying
him. In the Midst of Calumny or Contempt, he attends
to that Being who whispers better things within his
Soul, and whom he looks upon as his Defender, his
Glory, and the Lifter up of his Head. In his deepest
Solitude and Retirement, he knows that he is in Come
pany with the greatest of Beings; and perceives within
himself such real Sensations of his Presence, as are more
delightful than any thing that can be met with in the
Conversation of his Creatures. Even in the Hour of
Death, he considers the Pains of his Dissolution to be
nothing else but the breaking down of that Partition,
which stands betwixt his Soul, and the Sight of that
Being, who is always present with him, and is about to
manifest it self to him in Fulness of Joy.
If we would be thus happy, and thus sensible of our
Maker's Presence, from the secret Effects of his Mercy
and Goodness, we must keep such a Watch over all our
Thoughts, that, in the Langua e of the Scripture, his
Soul may have Pleasure in us. e must take Care not
to grieve his holy Spirit, and endeavour to make the
Meditations of our Hearts always acceptable in his Sight,
that he may delight thus to reside and dwell in us.
The Light of Nature could direct Seneca to this Doctrine,
in a very remarkable Passage among his Epistles; Sacer
inest in nobis splritus bonorum malorumque custos,
8 Observa tor, 8 quemadmoclum nos illum tractam us,
ita 8 {He nos. There is a holy Spirit resid' in us,
who watches and observes both good and evil en, and
will treat us after the same Manner that we treat him.
But I shall conclude this Discourse with those more
emphatical Words in Divine Revelation, If a Man love
me, he will keep my Word, and my Father will love
him, and we will come unto him, and make our Abode
with him.’
Monday
56
THE SPECTATOR
. 5d72.
n ay
2.26"
No. 572.
Monday, July 26.
Quad medicorum est
Promittunt medici .-—Hor.
IAM the more pleased with these my Papers, since I
find they have encouraged several Men of Learning
and Wit to become my Correspondents: I Yesterday
received the following Essay against Ouacks, which I
shall here communicate to my Readers for the Good of
the Publick, begging the Writer’s Pardon for those
Additions and Retrenchments which I have made in it.
The Desire of Life is so natural and strong a Passion,
that I have long since ceased to wonder at the great
Encouragement which the Practice of Physick finds
among us. Well/constituted Governments have always
made the Profession of a Physician both honourable
and advantageous. Homer's Machaon and Virgil's Ia pis
were Men of Renown, Heroes in War, and made at
least as much Havock among their Enemies as among
their Friends. Those who have little or no Faith in
the Abilities of a Quack will apply themselves to him,
either because he is willing to sell Health at a reason»
able Profit, or, because the Patient, like a drowning
Man, catches at every Twig, and hopes for Relief from
the most ignorant, when the most able Physicians give
him none. Though Impudence and many Words are
as necessary to these Itinerary Galens as a laced Hat
or a Merry Andrew, yet they would turn very little
to the Advantage of the Owner, if there were not some
inward disposition in the sick Man to favour the Preten/
sions of the Mountebank. Love of Life in the one, and
of Mony in the other, creates a good Correspondence
between them. "
There is scarce a City in Grea t/Britain but has one
of this Tribe, who takes it into his Protection, and on
the Market/Day harrangues the good People of the Place
with Aphorisms and Receipts. You may depend upon
it, he comes not there for his own private Interest, but
out of a particular affection to the Town. I remember
one of these Publickaspirited Artists at Hammersmifih,
W O

THE SPECTATOR 57
who told his Audience, ' that he had been born and No. 572.
bred there, and that having a special Regard for the
Place of his Nativity, he was determined to make a
Present of Five Shillings to as many as would accept
of it.’ The whole Crowd stood agape, and ready to take
the Doctor at his Word; when putting his Hand into a
long Bag, as every one was expecting his Crown/Piece,
he drew out an Handful of little Packets, each of which
he informed the Spectators was constantly sold at Five
Shillings and Six Pence, but that he would hate the odd
Five Shillings to every Inhabitant of that Place: The
whole Assembly immediately closed with this generous
Offer, and took off all his Physick, after the Doctor had
made them vouch for one another, that there were
no Foreigners among them, but that they were all
Hammersmith Men.
There is another Branch of Pretenders to this Art,
who, without either Horse or Pickle/Herring, lie snug
in a Garret, and send down Notice to the World of
their extraordinary Parts and Abilities by printed Bills
and Advertisements. These seem to have derived their
Custom from an Eastern Nation which Herodotus
speaks of, among whom it was a Law, that whenever
any Cure was performed, both the Method of the Cure,
and an Account of the Distemper, should be fixed in
some publick Place; but as Customs will corrupt, these
our Moderns provide themselves of Persons to attest the
Cure, before they publish or make an Experiment of
the Prescription. I have heard of a Porter, who serves
as a Knight of the Post under one of these Operators,
and, tho' he was never sick in his Life. has been cured
of all the Diseases in the Dispensary. These are the
Men whose Sagacity has invented Elixirs of all sorts,
Pills and Lozenges, and take it as an Affront if you
come to them before you are given over by every body
else. Their Medicines are infallible, and never fail of
Success, that is, of enriching the Doctor, and setting the
Patient effectually at Rest.
I lately dropt into a Coffee/house at Westminster,
where I found the Room hung round with Ornaments of
this Nature. There were Elixirs, Tinctures, the AnFJdine
otus
I
1
Monda
ulz 26‘,”
71.
58 THE SPECTATOR
LO: at.“
iii. '
Fetus, English Pills, Electuaries, and, in short, more
Remedies than I believe there are Diseases. At the
Sight of so many Inventions, I could not but imagine
my self in a kind of Arsenal or Magazine, where store
of Arms was reposited against any sudden Invasion.
Should you be attack'd by the Enemy side/ways, here
was an infallible Piece of Defensive Armour 'to cure
the Pleurisie: Should a Distemper beat up your Head/
Quarters, here you might purchase an impenetrable
Helmet, or, in the Language of the Artist, a Cephalic
Tincture: If your main Body be assaulted, here are
various Kinds of Armour in case of various Onsets.
I began to congratulate the present Age upon the
Happiness Men might reasonably hope for in Life,
when Death was thus in a manner defeated; and when
Pain it self would be of so short a Duration, that it
would but just serve to enhance the Value of Pleasure.
While I was in these Thoughts, I unluckily called to
mind a Story of an ingenious Gentleman of the last
Age, who lying violently afflicted with the Gout, a
Person came and offer'd his Service to cure him by
a Method, which he assured him was infallible; the
Servant who received the Message carried it up to his
Master, who enquiring whether the Person came on
Foot or in a Chariot; and being informed that he
was on foot; Go, says he, send the Knave about his
Business : Was his Method as infallible as he pretends,
he would long before now have been in his Coach
and Six. In like manner I concluded, that had all these
Advertisers arrived to that Skill they pretend to, they
would have had no Need for so many Years successively
to publish to the World the Place of their Abode, and the
Virtues of their Medicines. One of these Gentlemen
indeed pretends to an effectual Cure for Leanness: What
Effects it may have had upon those who have try'd it I
cannot tell; but I am credibly informed, that the Call
for it has been so great, that it has effectually cured the
Doctor himself of that Distemper. Could each of them
produce so good an Instance of the Success of his
Medicines, they might soon persuade the World into an
Opinion of them. I
THE SPECTATOR 59
I observe that most of the Bills agree in one Expresw No.5721.
sion, viz. that (with God's Blessing) they perform such ¥?fl%?v
and such Cures: This Expression is certainly very proper 1;,2' -'
and emphatical, for that is all they have for it. And if *
ever a Cure is performed on a Patient where they are
concerned, they can claim no greater Share in it than
Virgil's Iapis in the curing of lEneas; he tried his Skill,
was very assiduous about the Wound, and indeed was the
only visible Means that relieved the Hero; but the Poet
assures us it was the particular Assistance of a Deity that
speeded the Operation. An English Reader may see the
whole Story in Mr. Dryden's Translation.
Prop'd on his Lance the pensive Heroe stood,
And heard, and saw unmov’d, the mourning Crowd.
The fam'd Ph sician tucks his Robes around,
lVith ready I-laInds, and Hastens to the Wound.
With gentle Touches, he performs his Part,
This Way and that, solliciting the Dart,
And exercises all his Heav'nly Art.
All softning Simples, known of Sov’reign Use,
He presses out, and pours their noble juice;
These first infus’d, to Ienifie the Pain,
He tugs with Pincers, but he tugs in vain.
Then, to the Patron of his Art he pra 'd;
The Patron of his Art refus'd his A11
But now the Goddess Mother, mov'd with Grief,
And pierc'd with Pity, hastens her Relief.
A Branch of Healing Dittany she brought,
Which in the Cretan Fields with Care she sought:
Rough is the Stem, which wooll Leaves surround;
The Leaves with Flow’rs, the Fl/‘bw'rs with Purple crown'd!
Well known to wounded Goats; a sure Relief
To draw the pointed Steel, and ease the Grief.
This Venus brings, in Clouds involv'd; and brews
Th' extracted Liquor with Ambrosian Dews,
And od'rous Panacee: Unseen she stands,
Temp'ring the IIIixture with her Heav'nly Hands!
And pours it in a Bow] already crown’d
With uice of med'cinal Herbs, prepar’d to bathe the Wound.
The eech, unknowing of superior Art, I
Which aids the Cure, with this foments the Part /
And in a Moment ceas'd the raging Smart.
Stanch'd is the Blood, and in the Bottom stands;
The Steel, but scarcely touch'd with tender Hands,
Moves up, and follows of its own Accord ;
And Health and Vigour are at once restor’d. .
IV. 2 A 1an
60 THE SPECTATOR
Ila. Ban.
on a
Fy 2G,.

Iapis first perceiv'd the closing Wound ;
And first the Footsteps of a God he found.
Arms, Arms, he cries, the Sword and Shield prepare,
And send the willing Chief, renew'd to War.
This is no Mortal Work, no Cure of Mae,
Nor Art's Effect, but done by Hands Divine.
No. 573.
Wednesday, July 28.
—-—Castigata remordent—Juv.
Y Paper on the Club of Widows has brought me in
several Letters; and, among the rest, a long one
from Mrs. President, as follows:
‘Smart Sir,
You are pleased to be very merry, as you imagine,
with us Widows: And you seem to ground your Satyr
on our receiving Consolation so soon after the Death of
our Dears, and the Number we are pleased to admit for
our Companions; but you never reflect what Husbands
we have buried, and how short a Sorrow the Loss of them
was capable of occasioning. For my own Part, Mrs.
President as you call me, my First Husband I was
marry’d to at Fourteen, by my Uncle and Guardian, (as
I afterwards discovered) by way of Sale, for the Third
part of my Fortune. This Fellow looked upon me as a
meer Child, he might breed up after his own Fancy;
if he kissed my Chamber/Maid before my Face, I was
supposed so i norant, how could I think there was any
Hurt in it? hen he came home Roaring Drunk at
five in the Morning, 'twas the Custom of all Men that
live in the World. I was not to see a Penny of Mony,
for, poor Thing, how could I manage it? He took a
handsome Cousin of his into the House, (as he said) to
be my House/keeper, and to govern my Servants; for
how should I know how to rule a Family? and while she
had what Mony she pleased, which was but reasonable
for the Trouble she was at for my Good, I was not to be
so censorious as to dislike Familiarity and Kindness
between near Relations. I was too great a Coward to
contend, but not so ignorant a Child to be thus imposed
upon
THE SPECTATOR 61
upon. Iresented his Contempt as I ought to do, and as No. 573.
most poor passive blinded Wives do, ’till it pleased Heaven Wedflwi
to take away my Tyrant, who left me Free Possession of it?
. 'Y 281
my own Land, and a large Jointure. My Youth and 1714'
Mony brought me many Lovers, and several endeavoured
to establish an Interest in m Heart while my Husband
was in his last Sickness; the onourable Edward Waitfort
was one of the First who addressed to me, advised to it by
a Cousin of his that was my intimate Friend, and knew
to a Penn what I was worth. Mr. Waitfort is a ver
agreeable an, and every Body would like him as we
as he does himself, if they did not plainly see that his
Esteem and Love is all taken up, and by such an Object,
as 'tis impossible to get the better of, I mean himself.
He made no doubt of marrying me within Four or Five
Months, and began to proceed with such an assured easie
Air, that pi ued my Pride not to banish him; quite com
trary, out 0 pure Malice, I heard his first Declaration with
so much innocent Surprise, and blushed so prettily, I
perceived it touched his very Heart, and he thought me
the best/natured Sill poor thing on Earth. When a Man
has such a Notion o a Woman, he loves her better than
he thinks he does. I was over/joy'd to be thus revenged
on him, for designing on my Fortune; and finding it was
in my Power to make his Heart ake, I resolved to come
pleat my Conquest, and entertain'd several other Pre/
tenders. The first Impression of my undesigning
Innocence was so strong in his Head, he attributed all
my Followers to the inevitable Force of my Charms, and
from several Blushes and side Glances, concluded himself
the Favourite; and when I used him like a Do for
my Diversion, he thought it was all Prudence and ear,
and pitied the Violence I did my own Inclinations, to
comply with my Friends, when I marry'd Sir Nicholas
Fribble of Sixty Years of Age. You know, Sir, the
Case of Mrs. Medlar. I hope ou would not have had
me cry out 111 Eyes for sue a Husband. I shed
Tears enough for my Widowhood a Week after my
Marriage, and when he was put in his Grave, recko '
he had been two Years dead, and my self a Widow of
that standing, I married three Weeks afterwards john
Sturdy
62 THE SPECTATOR
. 573. Sturdy, Esq., his next Heir. I had indeed some Thoughts
“new of taking Mr. Waltfort, but I found he could stay, and
1"" 28 besides he thought it indecent to ask me to marry again
Y, ' till my Year was out; so privately resolving him for
my Fourth, I took Mr. Sturdy for the present. Would
you believe it, Sir, Mr. Sturdy was just Five and Twenty,
about Six Foot high, and the stoutest Fox/hunter in the
Country, and I believe I wished ten thousand times for
my old Fribble again; he was following his Do s all
the Day, and all the Night keeping them up at able
with him and his Companions; however I think m
self obliged to them for leading him a Chase in which
he broke his Neck. Mr. Waitfort began his Addresses
anew, and I verily believe I had married him now, but
there was a young Officer in the Guards, that had
debauched two or three of my Acquaintance, and I
could not forbear being a little vain of his Courtship.
Mr. Waltfort heard of it, and read me such an insolent
Lecture upon the Conduct of Women, I married the
Officer that very Day, out of pure Spite to him. Half
an Hour after I was married I received a Penitential
Letter from the Honourable Mr. Edward Waitfort, in
which he begged Pardon for his Passion, as proceeding
from the Violence of his Love: I triumphed when I
read it, and could not help, out of the Pride of my
Heart, shewing it to my new Spouse; and we were
very merry together upon it. Alas! my Mirth lasted
a short time; my young Husband was very much in
Debt when I marry’d him, and his first Action after»
wards was to set up a gilt Chariot and Six, in fine
Trappings before and behind. I had married so hastily,
I had not the Prudence to reserve my Estate in my
own Hands; my ready Money was lost in two Nights
at the Groom Porter's; and my Diamond Necklace,
which was stole I did not know how, I met in the
Street upon jenny Wheadle’s Neck. My Plate vanished
Piece by Piece, and I had been reduced to downright
Pewter, if my Officer had not been deliciously killed
in a Duel, by a Fellow that had cheated him of Five
Hundred Pounds, and afterwards, at his own Request,
satisfy’d him and me too, by running him. througlfi tdhe
Q v
THE SPECTATOR 63
Body. Mr. Waitfort was still in Love, and told me No. 573.
so again; to prevent all Fears of ill Usage, he desired wanes”
me to reserve every thing in my own Hands; but 28
now my Acquaintance begun to wish me Joy of his 1714, '
Constancy, my Charms were declining, and I could not‘
resist the Delight I took in shewing the young Flirts
about Town, it was yet in my Power to give Pain to
a Man of Sense: This, and some private Hopes he
would hang himself, and what a Glory would it be for
me, and how I should be envy'd, made me accept of
being third Wife to my Lord Friday. I proposed from
my Rank and his Estate, to live in all the Joys of Pride,
but how was I mistaken? he was neither extravagant,
nor ill/natured, nor debauched; I suffered however more
with him than with all my others. He was splenatick.
Iwas forced to sit whole Days harkening to his imaginary
Ails; it was impossible to tell what would please him;
what he liked when the Sun shined, made him sick
when it rained; he had no Distemper, but lived in con;
stant Fear of them all; my good Genius dictated to me
to bring him acquainted with Doctor Grue]; from that
Day he was always contented, because he had Names
for all his Complaints; the good Doctor furnished him
with Reasons for all his Pains, and Prescriptions for every
Fancy that troubled him; in hot Weather he lived upon
Juleps, and let Blood to prevent Fevers; when it grew
cloudy he generally apprehended a Consumption; to
shorten the History of this wretched Part of my Life,
he ruined a good Constitution by endeavouring to mend
it, and took several Medicines, which ended in taking
the grand Remedy, which cured both him and me of all
our Uneasinesses. After his Death, I did not expect to hear
any more of Mr. Waitfort. I knew he had renounced
me to all his Friends, and been very witty upon my
Choice, which he affected to talk of with great Indif/
ferency; I gave over thinking of him, being told that
he was engaged with a pretty Woman and a great
Fortune; it vexed me a little, but not enough to make
me neglect the Advice of my Cousin Wish well, that
came to see me the Day my Lord went into the Country
with Russel; she told me experimentally, nothing put
an
64 THE SPECTATOR
o. 573. an unfaithful Lover and a dear Husband so soon out of
“new one's Head, as a new one; and, at the same time pro.
“17'” posed to me a Kinsman of hers; You understand enough
Y ' of the World (said she) to know Mony is the most
valuable Consideration; he is very rich, and I'm sure
cannot live long, he has a Cough that must carry him
off soon. I knew afterwards she had given the self.
same Character of me to him; but however I was so
much perswaded by her, I hastened on the Match, for
fear he should die before the time came; he had the
same Fears, and was so pressing, I married him in a
Fortnight, resolving to keep it private a Fortnight longer.
During this Fortnight Mr. Waitfort came to make me a
Visit; he told me he had waited on me sooner, but had
that Respect for me, he would not interrupt me in the
first Day of my Affliction for my dead Lord; that as
soon as he heard I was at Liberty to make another
Choice, he had broke off a Match very advantageous for
his Fortune, just upon the Point of Conclusion, and was
forty times more in Love with me than ever. I never
received more Pleasure in my Life than from this
Declaration, but I composed my Face to a grave Air,
and said the News of his Engagement had touched me
to the Heart that in a rash jealous Fit, I had married a
Man I could never have thought on if I had not lost all
hopes of him. Goodvnatured Mr. Waitfort had liked to
have dropped down dead at hearing this, but went from
me with such an Air as plainly shewed me he laid all
the Blame upon himself, and hated those Friends that
had advised him to the fatal Application; he seemed as
much touched by my Misfortune as his own, for he had
not the least Doubt I was still passionately in Love with
him. The Truth of the Story is, my new Husband gave
me Reason to repent I had not staid for him; he had
married me for my Mony, and I soon found he loved
Mony to Distraction; there was nothing he would not
do to get it, nothing he would not suffer to preserve it;
the smallest Expence kept him awake whole Nights,
and when he paid a Bill, 'twas with as many Sighs, and
after as many Delays, as a Man that endures the Loss of
a Limb. Iheard nothing but Reproofs for Extravagancy
whatever
THE SPECTATOR 65
whatever I did. I saw very well that he would have No. 573.
starved me, but for losing my Jointures; and he suffered Wednes'
Agonies between the Grief of seeing me have so good a 1317' 28
Stomach, and the Fear that if he made me fast, it might 1712;, '
prejudice 111 Health. I did not doubt he would have
broke my eart, if I did not break his, which was
allowable by the Law of Self/defence. The Way was very
easy. I resolved to spend as much Mony as I could, and
before he was aware of the Stroke, appeared before him
in a two thousand Pound Diamond Necklace; he said
nothing, but went quietly to his Chamber, and, as it is
thought, composed himself with a Dose of Opium. I
behaved my self so well upon the Occasion, that to this
Day I believe he died of an Apoplexy. Mr. Waitfort
was resolved not to be too late this time, and I heard
from him in two Days. I am almost out of my Weed
at this present Writing, and very doubtful whether I'll
marry him or no. I do not think of a Seventh, for the
ridiculous Reason you mention, but out of pure Morality
that I think so much Constancy should be rewarded,
tho’ I may not do it after all perhaps. I do not believe
all the unreasonable Malice of ' Mankind can give a Pre/
tence why I should have been constant to the Memory
of any of the Deceased, or have spent much time in
grieving for an insolent, insignificant, negligent, ex/
travagant, splenetick, or covetous Husband; my first inn
sulted me, my second was nothing to me, my third
disgusted me, the fourth would have ruined me, the
fifth tormented me, and the sixth would have starved
me. If the other Ladies you name would thus give in
their Husbands' Pictures at length, you would see they
have had as little Reason as my self to lose their Hours
in weeping and wailing.’

Friday
66 THE SPECTATOR
o.d574.
1 a
r1
No. 574.
[ADDISON] Friday, July 30.
Non possidentem multa vocaveris
Recte beatum : rectius occupat
Nomen beati, qui deorum
Muneribus sapienter uti,
Duramque callet pauperiem pati.—Hor.
I WAS once engaged in Discourse with a Rosicrusian
about the great Secret. As this kind of Men (I
mean those of them who are not professed Cheats) are
over/run with Enthusiasm and Philosophy, it was very
amusing to hear this religious Adept descanting on his
pretended Discovery. He talked of the Secret as of a
Spirit which lived within an Emerald, and converted
every thing that was near it to the highest Perfection it
is capable of. It gives a Lustre, says he, to the Sun, and
Water to the Diamond. It irradiates every Metal, and en/
riches Lead with all the Properties of Gold. It heightens

,Smoke into Flame, Flame into Light, and Light into
Glory. He further added, that a single Ray of it dissipates
Pain, and Care, and Melancholy from the Person on
whom it falls. In short, says he, its Presence naturally
,changes every Place into a kind of Heaven. After he
had gone on for some Time in this unintelligible Cant,
I found that he iumbled natural and moral Ideas together
into the same Discourse, and that his great Secret was
nothing else but Content.
This Virtue does indeed produce, in some Measure,
all those Effects which the Alchymist usually ascribes
to what he calls the Philosopher's Stone; and if it does
not bring Riches, it does the same thing, by banishing
the Desire of them. If it cannot remove the Disquietudes
arising out of a Man's Mind, Body, or Fortune, it makes
him easie under them. It has indeed a kindly Influence
on the Soul of Man, in respect of every Being to whom
he stands related. It extinguishes all Murmur, Repining,
and Ingratitude towards that Being who has allotted him
his Part to act in this World. It destroys all inordinate
Ambition, and every Tendency to Corruption, with re;
gard to the Community wherein he is placed. It gives
U Sweetness
THE SPECTATOR 67
Sweetness to his Conversation, and a perpetual Serenity No. 574
to all his Thoughts. Fridagn
Among the many Methods which might be made use 0'
of for the acquiring of this Virtue, I shall only mention '
the two following. First of all, A Man should always
consider how much he has more than he wants; and
Secondly, How much more unhappy he might be than
he really is.
First of all, A Man should always consider how much
he has more than he wants. I am wonderfully pleased
with the Reply which Aristippus made to one who
condoled him upon the Loss of a Farm, Why, said he,
.I have three Farms still, and you have but one; so
that I ought rather to be afflicted for you than you for
me. On the contrary, foolish Men are more apt to com
sider what they have lost than what they possess; and
to fix their Eyes upon those who are richer than them»
selves, rather than on those who are under greater
Difficulties. All the real Pleasures and Conveniences of
Life lie in a narrow Compass; but it is the Humour of
Mankind to be always looking forward, and strain'
after one who has got the Start of them in Wealth and
Honour. For this Reason, as there are none can be
properly called rich, who have not more than they want;
there are few rich Men in any of the politer Nations but
among the middle Sort of People, who keep their Wishes
within their Fortunes, and have more Wealth than they
know how to enjoy. Persons of a higher Rank live in
a kind of splendid Poverty, and are perpetually wanting,
because instead of acquiescing in the solid Pleasures of
Life, they endeavour to outvy one another in Shadows
and Appearances. Men of Sense have at all .tim% be/
held with a great deal of Mirth this silly Game that is
playing over their Heads, and by contracting their De.
sires, enjoy all that secret Satisfaction which others are
always in quest of. The Truth is, this ridiculous Chace
after imaginary Pleasures cannot be sufficiently exposed,
as it is the great Source of those Evils which generally
undo a Nation. Let a Man's Estate be what it will, he
is a poor Man if he does not live within it, and naturally
sets himself to Sale to any one that can give him his
1 Price

68 THE SPECTATOR
O. rs.
Y
14. '
Price. When Pittacus, after the Death of his Brother,
who had left him a good Estate, was offered a great
Sum of Mony by the King of Lydia, he thanked him
for his Kindness, but told him he had already more by
Half than he knew what to do with. In short, Content
is equivalent to Wealth, and Luxury to Poverty; or, to
give the Thought a more agreeable Turn, Content is
natural Wealth, says Socrates; to which I shall add,
Luxury is artificial Poverty. I shall therefore recom.
mend to the Consideration of those who are always aim.
ing after superfluous and imaginary Enjoyments, and
will not be at the Trouble of contracting their Desires,
an excellent Saying of Bion the Philosopher; namely,
That no Man has so much Care, as he who endeavours
after the most Happiness.
In the Second Place, Every one ought to reflect how
much more unhappy he might be than he really is.
The former Consideration took in all those who are
sufficiently provided with the Means to make themselves
easie; this regards such as actually lie under some Pres.
sure or Misfortune. These may receive great Alleviation
from such a Comparison as the unhappy Person may
make between himself and others, or between the Mis/
fortune which ‘he suffers, and greater Misfortunes which
might have befallen him.
I like the Story of the honest Dutchman, who, upon
breaking his Leg by a Fall from the Mainmast, told the
Standers/by, It was a great Mercy that 'twas not his
Neck. To which, since I am got into Quotations, give
me Leave to add the Saying of an old Philosopher,
who, after having invited some of his Friends to dine
with him, was ruffled by his Wife that came into the
Room in a Passion, and threw down the Table that stood
before them; Every one, says he, has his Calamity, and
he is a happy Man that has no greater than this. We
find an Instance to the same Purpose in the Life of
Doctor Hammond, written by Bishop Fell. As this good
Man was troubled with a Complication of Distempers,
when he had the Gout upon him, he used to thank God
that it was not the Stone; and when he had the Stone, that
he had not both these Distempers on him at the same time.
' I cannot conclude this Essay without observing, that No. 57
there was never any System besides that of Christianity, Fridagé'
which could effectually produce in the Mind of Man the
Virtue I have been hitherto speaking of. In order to '
make us content with our present Condition, many of the
ancient Philosophers tell us that our Discontent only
hurts our selves, without being able to make any Altera/
tion in our Circumstances; others, that whatever Evil
befals us is derived to us by a fatal Necessity, to which the
Gods themselves are subject; whilst others very gravely
tell the Man who is miserable, that it is necessary he
should be so to keep up the Harmony of the Universe,
and that the Scheme of Providence would be troubled and
perverted were he otherwise. These, and the like Con/
siderations, rather silence than satisfie a Man. They
may show him that his Discontent is unreasonable, but
are by no means sufficient to relieve it. They rather
give Despair than Consolation. In a Word, a Man might
reply to one of these Comforters, as Augustus did to his
Friend who advised him not to grieve for the Death of a
Person whom he loved, because his Grief could not fetch
him again. It is for that very Reason, said the Emperor,
that I grieve.
On the contrary, Religion bears a more tender Regard
to humane Nature. It prescribes to every miserable Man
the Means of bettering his Condition; nay, it shews
him, that the bearing of his Afflictions as he ought to do
will naturally end in the Removal of them; It makes him
easie here, because it can make him happy hereafter.
Upon the whole, a contented Mind is the greatest
Blessing a Man can enjoy in this World; and if in the
present Life his Happiness arises from the subduing of
histlDesires, it will arise in the next from the Gratification
of em.
No. 575.
[ADDISONJ Monday, August 2.
-—--Nec morti esse locum—.-—Virg.
A LEWD young Fellow seeing an aged Hermit go
by him barefoot, Father, says he, you are in a
very miserable Condition if there is not another World.
True
THE SPECTATOR 69 Al
70 THE SPECTATOR
. 575.
True, Son, said the Hermit; but what is thy Condition
11588" if there is .7 Man is a Creature designed for two different
gust
States of Being, or rather, for two different Lives. His
first Life is short and transient; his second permanent
and lasting. The Question we are all concerned in is
this, In which of these two Lives it is our chief Interest
to make our selves happy? Or, in other Words, Whether
we should endeavour to secure to our selves the Pleasures
and Gratifications of a Life which is uncertain and precari/
ous, and at its utmost Length of a very inconsiderable Dura/
tion; or to secure to our selves the Pleasures of a Life
which is fixed and settled, and will never end? Every
Man, upon the first hearing of this Question, knows very
well which Side of it he ought to close with. But how/
ever right we are in Theory, it is plain that in Practice
we adhere to the wrong Side of the Question. We make
Provisions for this Life as tho’ it were never to have an
End, and for the other Life as tho' it were never to have a
Beginning.
Should a Spirit of superior Rank, who is a Stranger to
human Nature, accidentally alight upon the Earth, and
take a Survey of its Inhabitants; what would his Notions
of us be? Would not he think that we are a Species of
Beings made for quite different Ends and Purposes than
what we really are? Must not he imagine that we were
placed in this World to get Riches and Honours? Would
not he think that it was our Duty to toil after Wealth, and
Station, and Title? Nay, would not he believe we were
forbidden Poverty by Threats of eternal Punishment, and
enjoined to pursue our Pleasures under Pain of Dam»
nation? He would certainly imagine that we were
influenced by a Scheme of Duties quite opposite to those
which are indeed prescribed to us. And truly, according
to such an Imagination, he must conclude that we are a,
Species of the most obedient Creatures in the Universe;
that we are constant to our Duty; and that we keep a
steddy Eye on the End for which we were sent hither.
But how great would be his Astonishment, when he
learnt that we were Beings not designed to exist in this
World above Threescore and Ten Years? and that the
greatest Part of this busie Species fall short even of Ahat
ge
THE SPECTATOR 71
Age? How would he be lost in Horrour and Admiration, No. 575.
when he should know that this Sett of Creatures, who lay Monday!
out all their Endeavours for this Life, which scarce de. {ingum
‘serves the Name of Existence, when, I say, he should '
know that this Sett of Creatures are to exist to all Eternity
in another Life, for which they make no Preparations?
Nothing can be a greater Disgrace to Reason, than that
Men, who are perswaded of these two different States of
Being, should be perpetually employed in providing for a
Life of Threescore and Ten Years, and neglecting to make
Provision for that, which after many Myriads of Years
will be still new, and still beginning; especially when we
consider that our Endeavours for making our selves great,
or rich, or honourable, or whatever else we place our
Happiness in, may after all prove unsuccessful; whereas
if we constantly and sincerely endeavour to make our
selves happy in the other Life, we are sure that our
Endeavours will succeed, and that we shall not be dis.
appointed of our Hope.
The following Question is started by one of the School.
men. Supposing the whole Body of the Earth were a
great Ball or Mass of the finest Sand, and that a single
Grain or Particle of this Sand should be annihilated every
thousand Years. Supposing then that you had it in our
Choice to be happy all the while this prodigious ass
of Sand was consuming by this slow Method till there
was not a Grain of it left, on Condition you were to be
miserable for ever after; or, supposing that you might
be happy for ever after, on Condition you would be
miserable till the whole Mass of Sand were thus anni.
hilated at the Rate of one Sand in a thousand Years: Which
of these two Cases would you make your Choice?
It must be confessed in this Case, so many Thousands
of Years are to the Imagination as a kind of Eternity, 'tho
in Reality they do not bear so great a Proportion to that
Duration which is to follow them, as a Unite does to
the greatest Number which you can put together in
Figures, or as one of those Sands to the supposed Heap.
Reason therefore tells us, without any Manner of Hesita.
tion, which would be the better Part in this Choice.
However, as I have before intimated, our Reason might
“I
72 THE SPECTATOR
lo. 575. in such a Case be so over/set by the Imagination, as to
1$114“; dispose some Persons to sink under the Consideration
if “at 2' of the great Length of the first Part of this Duration,
' and of the great Distance of that second Duration which
is to succeed it. The Mind, I say, might give itself up
to that Happiness which is at hand, considering that
it is so very near, and that it would last so very long.
But when the Choice we actually have before us is
this, Whether we will chuse to be happy for the Space
of only Threescore and ten, nay perhaps of only
Twenty or Ten Years, I might say of only a Day or
an Hour, and miserable to all Eternity; or, on the
contrary, miserable for this short Term of Years, and
happy for a whole Eternity: What Words are sufficient
to express that Polly and want of Consideration which
in such a Case makes a wrong Choice?
I here put the Case even at the worst, by supposing
(what seldom happens) that a Course of Virtue makes
us miserable in this Life: But if we suppose (as it gener/
ally happens) that Virtue would make us more happy
even in this Life than a contrary Course of Vice; how
can we sufficiently admire the Stupidity or Madness of
those Persons who are capable of making so absurd a
Choice?
Every wise Man therefore will consider this Life only
as it may conduce to the Happiness of the other, and
chearfully sacrifice the Pleasures of a few Years to those
of an Eternity.
No. 576.
[ADDISONJ Wednesday, August 4.
Nitor in adversum : nec me, qui cetera, vincit
Impetus I {I rapido contrarius evehor orbi.—-Ov1d.
REMEMBER a young Man of very lively Parts, and
of a sprightly Turn in Conversation, who had only
one Fault, which was an inordinate Desire of appearing
fashionable. This ran him into man Amours, and
consequently into many Distempers. e never went
to Bed till two a/clock in the Morning, because he would
not be a queer Fellow; and was every now and then
knocked
THE SPECTATOR 73
knocked down by a Constable, to signalize his Vivacity. No. 576.
He was initiated into half a Dozen Clubs before he was chflw
One and twenty, and so improved in them his natural iav'u t,
Gayety of Temper, that you might frequently trace him 17? , s
to his Lodgings by a Range of broken Windows, and
other the like Monuments of Wit and Gallantry. To
be short, after having fully established his Reputation of
being a very agreeable Rake, he died of old Age at Five
and twenty.
There is indeed nothing which betrays a Man into so
many Errors and Inconveniencies, as the Desire of not
appear' singular; for which Reason it is very neces/
sary to orm a right Idea of Singularity, that we may
know when it is laudable and when it is vicious. In
the first Place, every Man of Sense will agree with me,
that Singularity is laudable, when, in Contradiction to
a Multitude, it adheres to the Dictates of Conscience,
Morality, and Honour. In these Cases we ought to
consider, that it is not Custom, but Duty, which is the
Rule of Action; and that we should be only so far
sociable, as we are reasonable Creatures. Truth is
never the less so, for not being attended to; and it is
the Nature of Actions, not the Number of Actors, by
which we ought to regulate our Behaviour. Singularity
in Concerns of this Kind is to be looked upon as heroick
Bravery, in which a Man leaves the Species only as he
soars above it. What greater Instance can there be of a
weak and pusillanimous Temper, than for a Man to pass
his whole Life in Opposition to his own Sentiments? or
not to dare to be what he thinks he ought to be?
Singularity therefore is only vicious when it makes
Men act contrary to Reason, or when it puts them upon
distinguishing themselves by Trifles. As for the first
of these, who are singular in any thing that is irreligious,
immoral, or dishonourable, I believe every one will easily
give them up. I shall therefore speak of those only who
are remarkable for their Singularity in things of no Im/
portance, as in Dress, Behaviour, Conversation, and all
the little Intercourses of Life. In these Cases there is a
certain Deference due to Custom; and notwithstanding
there may be a Colour of Reason to deviate from the
Multitude
74 THE SPECTATOR

. 576.
ednes/
gust 4,
Multitude in some Particulars, a Man ought to sacrifice
his private Inclinations and Opinions to the Practice of
the Publick. It must be confessed that good Sense often
makes a Humourist; but then it unqualifies him for being
of any Moment in the World, and renders him ridiculous
to Persons of a much inferior Understanding.
I have heard of a Gentleman in the North of England,
who was a remarkable Instance of this foolish Singularity.
He had laid it down as a Rule within himself, to act in
the most indifferent Parts of Life according to the
most abstracted Notions of Reason and good Sense,
without any Regard to Fashion or Example. This
Humour broke out at first in many little Oddnesses:
He had never any stated Hours for his Dinner, Supper,
or Sleep; because, said he, we ought to attend the Calls
of Nature, and not set our Appetites to our Meals, but
bring our Meals to our Appetites. In his Conversation
with Country/Gentlemen, he would not make use of a
Phrase that was not strictly true: He never told any of
them, that he was his humble Servant, but that he was
his Well/wisher; and would rather be thought a Male,
content, then drink the King’s Health when he was not
a/dry. He would thrust his Head out of his Chamber,
Window every Morning, and after having gaped for
fresh Air about half an Hour, repeat fifty Verses as loud
as he could bawl them for the Benefit of his Lungs; to
which End he generally took them out of Homer; the
Greek Tongue, especially in that Author, being more
deep and sonorous, and more conducive to Expectoration,
than any other. He had many other Particularities, for
which he gave sound and philosophical Reasons. As this
Humour still grew upon him, he chose to wear a Turban
instead of a Perriwig; concluding very justly, that a ban,
dage of clean Linnen about his Head was much more
wholesome, as well as cleanly, than the Caul of a Wig,
which is soiled with frequent Perspirations. He after»
wards judiciously observed, that the many Ligatures in
our English Dress must naturally check the Circulation
of the Blood; for which Reason, he made his Breeches
and his Doublet of one continued Piece of Cloth, after
the Manner of Hussars. In short, by following the pure
Dictates
THE SPECTATOR 75
Dictates of Reason, he at length departed so much from No. 5
the rest of his Countrymen, and indeed from his whole Wedfl
Species, that his Friends would have clapped him into gar
Bedlam, and have begged his Estate; but the judge being 17mg,u
informed that he did no Harm, contented himself with
issuing out a Commission of Lunacy against him, and
putting his Estate into the Hands of proper Guardians.
The Fate of this Philosopher puts me in mind of a
Remark in Monsieur Fontenelle’s Dialogues of the Dead.
The Ambitious and the Covetous (says he) are Madmen
to all In ten ts and Purposes, as much as those who are
shut up in dark Rooms; but they have the good Luck
to have Numbers on their Side ; whereas the Frenzy
of one who is given up for a Lunatick, is a Frenzy
hors d'oeuvre; that is, in other Words, something which
is singular in its Kind, and does not fall in with the
Madness of a Multitude.
The Subject of this Essay was occasioned by a Letter
which I received not long since, and which, for want
of Room at present, I shall insert in my next Paper.
No. 577.
Friday, August 6.
Hoe tolerabile, si non
Et furere incipias .—Iuv.
THE Letter mentioned in my last Paper is as
follows.
'51'1',
You have so lately decryed that Custom, too much in
use amongst most People, of making themselves the
Subjects of their Writings and Conversation, that I had
some Difficulty to perswade my self to give you this
Trouble, 'till I had considered that tho' I should speak
in the First Person, yet I could not be justly charged
with Vanity, since I shall not add my Name; as also,
because what I shall write will not, to say the best,
redound to my Praise; but is only designed to remove
a Prejudice conceived against me, as, I hope, with very
little Foundation. My short History is this.
I have lived for some Years last past altogether in
IV. 2 B London


76 THE SPECTATOR
.577. London, 'till about a Month ago an Acquaintance of mine,
day,
gu
for whom I have done some small Services in Town,
' invited me to pass Part of the Summer with him at his
House in the Country. I accepted his Invitation, and
found a very hearty Welcome. My Friend, an honest
plain Man, not being qualified to pass away his Time
without the Reliefs of Business, has grafted the Farmer
upon the Gentleman, and brought himself to submit
even to the servile Parts of that Employment, such as
inspecting his Plough, and the like. This necessarily
takes up some of his Hours every Day; and as I have
no Relish for such Diversions, I used at these Times to
retire either to my Chamber, or a shady Walk near
the House, and entertain my self with some agreeable
Author. Now you must know, Mr. SPECTATOR, that when
I read, especially if it be Poetry, it is very usual with
me, when I meet with any Passage or Expression which
strikes me much, to pronounce it aloud, with that Tone
of the Voice which I think agreeable to the Sentiments
there expressed; and to this I generally add some Motion
or Action of the Body. It was not long before I was
observed by some of the Family in one of these heroick
Fits, who thereupon received Impressions very much
to my Disadvantage. This however I did not soon
discover, nor should have done probably, had it not been
for the following Accident. I had one Day shut my self
‘up in my Chamber, and was very deeply engaged in
the Second Book of Milton's Paradise lost. I walked to
and fro with the Book in my Hand, and, to speak the
Truth, I fear I made no little Noise; when presently
coming to the following Lines,
On a sudden open fly,
\Vith impetuous Recoil and jarring Sound,
Th' infernal Doors, and on their Hinges grate
Harsh Thunder, ac.
I in great Transport threw open the Door of my
Chamber, and found the greatest Part of the Family
standing on the Outside in a very great Consternation.
I was in no less Confusion, and begged Pardon for having
disturbed them; addressing my self particularly to com;
fort one of the Children, who received an unlucky Fall

in
THE SPECTATOR 77
in this Action, whilst he was too intently surveying
my Meditations through the Key/hole. To be short,
after this Adventure I easily observed that great Part of
the Family, especially the Women and Children, looked
upon me with some Apprehensions of Fear; and my
Friend himself, tho' he still continued his Civilities to
me, did not seem altogether easie: I took Notice, that
the Butler was never after this Accident ordered to leave
the Bottle upon the Table after Dinner. Add to this,
that I frequently over/heard the Servants mention me
by the Name of the crazed Gentleman, the Gentleman
a little touched, the mad Londoner, and the like. This
made me think it high Time for me to shift my Quarters.
which I resolved to do the first handsome Opportunity;
and was confirmed in this Resolution by a young Lady
in the Neighbourhood who frequently visited us, and who
one Day, after having heard all the fine things I was able
tc1> say, was pleased with a scornful Smile to bid me go to
s eep.
The first Minute I got to my Lodgings in Town, I
set Pen to Paper to desire your Opinion, whether, upon
the Evidence before you, I am mad or not. I can bring
Certificates that I behave my self soberly before Com»
pany, and I hope there is at least some Merit in with/
drawing to be mad. Look you, Sir, I am contented
to be esteemed a little touched, as they phrase it, but
should be sorry to be madder than my Neighbours;
therefore, pray let me be as much in my Senses as
you can afford. I know I could bring your self as an
Instance of a Man who has confessed talking to himself;
but yours is a particular Case, and cannot justifie me,
who have not kept Silence any Part of my Life. What
if I should own my self in Love? You know Lovers
are always allowed the Comfort of Soliloquy But I
will say no more upon this Subject, because I have
long since observed, the ready Way to be thought
mad is to contend that you are not so; as we
generally conclude that Man drunk, who takes pains
to be thought sober. I will therefore leave my self to
your Determination; but am the more desirous to be
thought in my Senses, that it may be no Discredit to
you

No. 577
Friday,
A ,
vii“ ‘
78 THE SPECTATOR
577. you when I assure you that I have always been
3% ver m
gust 6| Y
!
Your Admirer.
P. S. If I must be mad, I desire the young Lady may
believe it is for her.’
‘ The humble Petition of John a Nokes and John a Stiles,
Sheweth,
That your Petitioners have had Causes depending in
Westminster Hall above five hundred Years, and that
we despair of ever seeing them brought to an Issue;
That your Petitioners have not been involved in these
Law Suits out of any litigious Temper of their own,
but by the Instigation of contentious Persons; That the
young Lawyers in our Inns of Court are continually
setting us together by the Bars, and think they do us
no Hurt, because they plead for us without a Fee; That
many of the Gentlemen of the Robe have no other
Clients in the World besides us two; That when they
have nothing else to do, they make us Plaintiffs and
Defendants, tho’ they were never retained by either of
us; That they traduce, condemn, or acquit us, without
any Manner of Regard to our Reputations and good
Names in the World. Your Petitioners therefore (being
thereunto encouraged by the favourable Reception which '
you lately gave to our Kinsman Blank) do humbly pray,
that you will put an End to the Controversies which
have been so long depending between us your said
Petitioners, and that our Enmity may not endure from
Generation to Generation; it being our Resolution to live
hereafter as it becometh Men of peaceable Dispositions.
And your Petitioners (as in Duty bound) shall
ever Pray, dc.’

Monday
THE SPECTATOR 79
No. 578. _ @231
Monday, August 9. August
——-Eque feris humana in corpora transit, 1/14'
Inque {eras noster Ovid.
HERE has been very great Reason, on several
Accounts, for the learned World to endeavour at
settling what it was that might be said to compose
personal Identity.
Mr. Lock, after having premised that the Word Person
properly signifies a thinking intelligent Being that has
Reason and Reflection, and can consider itself as itself;
concludes, That it is Consciousness alone, and not an
Identity of Substance, which makes this personal Identity
of Sameness. Had I the same Consciousness (says that
Author) that I saw the Ark and Noah's Flood, as that I
saw an Overflowing of the Thames last Winter, or as
that I now write; I could no more doubt that I who
write this now, that saw the Thames overflow last
Winter, and that viewed the Flood at the general Deluge,
was the same Self, place that Self in what Substance
you please, than that I who write this am the same
My self now whilst I write (whether I consist of all
the same Substance material or immaterial or no) that
I was Yesterday; For as to this Point of being the same
Self, it matters not whether this present Self be made
up of the same or other Substances.
I was mightily pleased with a Story in some measure
applicable to this Piece of Philosophy, which I read the
other Day in The Persian Tales, as they are lately very
well translated by Mr. Philips; and with an Abridgement
whereof I shall here present my Readers.
I shall only premise that these Stories are writ after
the Eastern Manner, but somewhat more correct.
Fadlallah, a Prince of great Virtues, succeeded his Father
Bin/Ortoc, in the Kingdom of Mouse]. He reigned over
his faithful Subjects for some time, and lived in great
Happiness with his beauteous Consort Queen Zemroude;
when there appeared at his Court a young Dervis of
so lively and entertaining a Turn of Wit, as won upon
the Affections of every one he conversed with. His
Reputation

80 THE SPECTATOR
. 578.
onday,
ugust 9
14.
' him.
Reputation grew so fast every Day, that it at last raised
a Curiosity in the Prince himself to see and talk with
He did so, and far from finding that common
Fame had flatter'd him, he was soon convinced that
every thing he had heard of him fell short of the Truth.
Fadlallah immediately lost all manner of Relish for
the Conversation of other Men; and as he was every
Day more and more satisfied of the Abilities of this
Stranger, offered him the first Posts in his Kingdom.
The young Dervis, after having thanked him with a
very singular Modesty, desired to be excused, as having
made a Vow never to accept of any Employment, and
preferring a free and independent State of Life to all
other Conditions.
The King was infinitely charmed with so great an
Example of Moderation; and tho' he could not get him
to engage in a Life of Business, made him however his
chief Companion and first Favourite.
As they were one Day hunting together, and happened '
to be separated from the rest of the Company, the Dervis
entertained Fadlallah with an Account of his Travels
and Adventures. After having related to him several
Curiosities which he had seen in the Indies, It was in
this Place, says he, that I contracted an Acquaintance
with an old Brachman, who was skilled in the most
hidden Powers of Nature : He died within my Arms,
and with his parting Breath communicated to me one
of the most valuable of his Secrets, on Condition 1
should never reveal it to any Man. The King imme/
diately reflecting on his young Favourite's having refused
the late Offers of Greatness he had made him, told him
he presumed it was the Power of making Gold. No Sir,
says the Dervis, it is somewhat more wonderful than
that; it is the Power of re/animating a dead Body, by
flinging my own Soul into it.
While he was yet speaking a Doe came bounding by
them; and the King, who had his Bow ready, shot her
through the Heart; telling the Dervis, that a fair Oppor/
tunity now- offered for him to show his Art. The young
Man immediately left his own Body breathless on the
Ground, while at the same Instant that of the Doe was re.
animated
THE SPECTATOR 81
animated, she came to the King, fawned upon him, and No. 57
after having play'd several wanton Tricks, fell again upon Mmda
’the Grass; at the “same Instant the Body of the Dervis gag“
recover'd its Life. The was infinitely pleased at so '
uncommon an Operation, and conjured his Friend by
every thing that was sacred to communicate it to him.
The Dervis at first made some Scruple of violating his
Promise to the dying Brachman; but told him at last that
he found he could conceal nothing from so excellent a
Prince; after having obliged him therefore by an Oath to
Secrecy, he taught him to repeat two Cabalistick Words,
in pronouncing of which the whole Secret consisted.
The King, impatient to try the Experiment, immediately
repeated them as he had been taught, and in an Instant
found himself in the Body of the Doe. He had but little
Time to contemplate himself in this new Being; for
the treacherous Dervis shooting his own Soul into the
Royal Corps, and bending the Prince’s own Bow against
him, had laid him dead on the Spot, had not the King,
who perceived his Intent, fled swiftly to the Woods.
The Dervis, now triumphant in his Villany, returned
to Mouse], and filled the Throne and Bed of the unhappy
Fadlallah.
The first thing he took care of, in order to secure him.»
self in the Possession of his new a acquired Kingdom,
was to issue out a Proclamation, ordering his Subjects
to destroy all the Deer in the Realm. The King had
perished among the rest, had he not avoided his Pursuers
by reanimating the Body of a Nightingale which he saw
lie dead at the Foot of a Tree. In this new Shape he
winged his Way in Safety to the Palace, where perching
on a Tree which stood near his Queen's Apartment,
he filled the whole Place with so many melodious and
melancholy Notes as drew her to the Window. He had
the Mortification to see, that instead of being pitied, he
only moved the Mirth of his Princess, and of a young
Female Slave who was with her. He continued however
to serenade her every Morning, 'till at last the Queen,
charmed with his Harmony, sent for the Bird/catchers,
and ordered them to employ their utmost Skill to put that
little Creature into her Possession. The King, pleased
with
82 THE SPECTATOR
578. with an Opportunity of being once more near his beloved
63% Consort, easily suffered himself to taken; and when
“St ' he was presented to her, tho' he shew'd a Fearfulness to
' be touched by any of the other Ladies, flew of his own
Accord, and hid himself in the Queen's Bosom. Zemroude
was highly pleased at the unexpected Fondness of her
new Favourite, and ordered him to be kept in an open
Cage in her own Apartment. He had there an Oppor.
tunity of making his Court to her every Morning, by a '
thousand little Actions which his Shape allowed him.
The Queen passed away whole Hours every Day in
hearing and playing with him. Fadlallah could even
have thought himself happy in this State of Life, had he
not frequently endured the inexpressible Torment of see.
ing the Dervis enter the Apartment, and caress his Queen
even in his Presence.
The Usurper, amidst his toying with the Princess,
would often endeavour to ingratiate himself with her
Nightingale; and while the enraged Fadlallah peck’d at
him with his Bill, beat his Wings, and shewed all the
Marks of an impotent Rage, it only afforded his Rival and
the Queen new Matter for their Diversion.
Zemroude was likewise fond of a little Lawaog which
she kept in her Apartment, and which one Night hap.
pened to die.
The King immediately found himself inclined to quit
the Shape of the Nightingale, and enliven this new Body.
He did so, and the next Morning Zemroude saw her
favourite Bird lie dead in the Cage. It is impossible to
express her Grief on this Occasion, and when she called
to mind all its little Actions, which even appeared to
have somewhat in them like Reason, she was incon.
solable for her Loss. ‘
Her Women immediately sent for the Dervis to come
and comfort her, who, after having in vain represented
to her the Weakness of being grieved at such an
Accident, touched at last by her repeated Complaints;
Well, Madam, says he, I will exert the utmost of my
Art to please you. Your Nightingale shall again
revive every Morning and serenade you as before.
The Queen beheld him with a Look which heasilty;
s ew
THE SPECTATOR 83
shewed she did not believe him; when laying himself No. 578.
down on a Sofa, he shot his Soul into the Nightingale, Monday;
and fimroude was amazed to see her Bird revive. 92‘5"“ 9'
The King, who was a Spectator of all that passed, '
lying under the Shape of a Lap/Dog, in one Corner of
the Room, immediately recovered his own Body, and
running to the Cage with the utmost Indignation, twisted
off the Neck of the false Nightingale.
Zemroude was more than ever amazed and con/
cerned at this second Accident, 'till the King entreating
her to hear him, related to her his whole Adventure.
The Body of the Dervis, which was found dead in
the Wood, and his Edict for killing all the Deer, left -
her no Room to doubt of the Truth of it; But the Story
adds, That out of an extream Delicacy (peculiar to the
Oriental Ladies) she was so highly afflicted at the
innocent Adultery in which she had for some time
lived with the Dervis, that no Arguments even from
Fadlallah himself could compose her Mind. She shortly
after died with Grief, begging his Pardon with her last
Breath for what the most rigid justice could not have
interpreted as a Crime.
The King was so afflicted with her Death, that he
left his Kingdom to one of his nearest Relations, and .
passed the rest of his Days in Solitude and Retirement.
No. 579.
[ADDISONJ Wednesday, August 11.
-——-—Odora canum vis.—Virg.
IN the Reign of King Charles I, the Company of
Stationers, into whose Hands the Printing of the
Bible is committed by Patent, made a very remarkable
Erratum or Blunder in one of their Editions; For
instead of Thou shalt not commit Adultery, they
printed off several thousands of Copies with Thou shalt
commit Adultery. Archbishop Laud, to punish this
their Negligence, laid a considerable Fine upon that
Company in the Star/Chamber.
By the Practice of the World, which prevails in this
degenerate Age, I am afraid that very manly young
ro
fligates
84 THE SPECTATOR
IQ!
Vednes/
lav.
\ugust ll,
14.
Profligates, of both Sexes, are possessed of this spurious
Edition of the Bible, and observe the. Commandment
according to that faulty Reading.
Adulterers, in the fimt Ages of the Church, were
excommunicated for ever, and unqualified all their Lives
from bearing a Part in Christian Assemblies, notwith/
standing they might seek it with Tears, and all the
Appearances of the most unfeigned Repentance.
Imight here mention some ancient Laws among the
Heathens which punished this Crime with Death; and
others of the same Kind, which are now in Force among
several Governments that have embraced the Reformed
Religion. But because a Subject of this Nature may be
too serious for my ordinary Readers, who are very apt
to throw by my Papers, when they are not enlivened
with something that is diverting or uncommon; I shall
here publish the Contents of a little Manuscript lately
fallen into my Hands, and which pretends to great
Antiquity, tho' by Reason of some modern Phrases and
other Particulars in it, I can by no means allow it to be
genuine, but rather the Production of a modern Sophist.
It is well known by the Learned, that there was a
Temple upon Mount fE'tna dedicated to Vulcan, which
was guarded by Dogs of so exquisite a Smell, (say the
Historians) that they could discern whether the Persons
who came thither were Chast or otherwise. They used
to meet and faun upon such as were Chast, caressing
them as the Friends of their Master Vulcan; but flew at
those who were polluted, and never ceased barking at
them till they had driven them from the Temple.
My Manuscript gives the following Account of these
Dogs, and was probably designed as a Comment upon
this Story.
These Dogs were given to Vulcan by his Sister Diana,
the Goddess of Hunting and of Chastity, having bred them
out of some of her Hounds, in which she had observed
this natural Instinct and Sagacity. It was thought she did
it in Spight to Venus, who, upon her Return home, always
found her Husband in a good or bad Humour, according
to the Reception which she met with from his Dogs.
They lived in the Temple several Years, but were such
, snappish
THE SPECTATOR 85
snappish Curs that they frighted away most of the Votaries. No. 579.
The Women of Sicily made a solemn Deputation to the
Priest, by which they acquainted him, that they would
Wednes;
day,
August .
not come up to the Temple with their annual Offerings 1714,
unless he muzzled his Mastiffs; and at last comprimised
the Matter with him, that the Offering should always be
brought by a Chorus of young Girls, who were none of
them above seven Years old. It was wonderful (says the
Author) to see how different the Treatment was which
the Dogs gave to these little Misses, from that which they
had shown to their Mothers. It is said that a Prince
of Syracuse, having married a young Lady, and being
naturally of a jealous Temper, made such an Interest
with the Priests of this Temple, that he procured a
Whelp from“ them of this famous Breed. The young
Puppy was very troublesome to the fair Lady at first,
insomuch that she sollicited her Husband to send him
away, but the good Man cut her short with the old
Sicilian Proverb, Love me, love my Dog. From which
Time she lived very peaceably with both of them. The
Ladies of Syracuse were very much annoyed with him,
and several of very good Reputation refused to come to
Court till he was discarded. There were indeed some of
them that defied his Sagacity, but it was observed, tho’ he
did not actually bite them, he would growle at them most
confoundedly. To return to the Dogs of the Temple:
After they had lived here in great Repute for several
Years, it so happened, that as one of the Priests, who had
been making a charitable Visit to a Widow who lived on
the Promontory of Lilybeum, returned home pretty late
in the Evening, the Dogs flew at him with so much Fury,
that they would have worried him if his Brethren had not
come in to his Assistance: Upon which, says my Author,
the Dogs were all of them hanged, as having lost their
original Instinct.
I cannot conclude this Paper without wishing, that we
had some of this Breed of Dogs in Great Britain, which
would certainly do justice, I should say Honour, to the
Ladies of our Country, and shew the World the difference
between Pagan Women and those who are instructed in
sounder Principles of Virtue and Religion.

Friday
86
THE SPECTATOR
O:
a .
Egg. 13, [ADDISON]
No. 580.
Friday, August 13.
-—Si verbis audacia detur
Haud timeam magni dixisse palatia caeh.-—Ov. Met.
‘ Sir,
I CONSIDERED in my two last Letters that awful and
tremendons Subject, the Ubiquity or Omnipresence of
the Divine Being. I have shewn at he is equally pre/
sent in all Places throughout the whole Extent of Infinite
Space. This Doctrine is so agreeable to Reason, that we
meet with it in the Writings of the enlightened Heathens,
as I might show at large, were it not already done by
other Hands. But tho’ the Deity be thus essentially
resent through all the Immensity of Space, there is one
art of it in which he discovers himself in a most trans/
cendent and visible Glory. This is that Place which is
marked out in Scripture under the different Appellations
of Paradise, the third Heaven, the Throne of God, and
the Habitation of his Glory. It is here where the glori/
fied Body of our Saviour resides, and where all the celestial
Hierarchies, and the innumerable Hosts of Angels, are
represented as perpetually surrounding the Seat of God,
with Hallelujahs and Hymns of Praise. This is that
Presence of God which some of the Divines call his
Glorious, and others his Majestatick Presence. He is
indeed as essentially present in all other Places as in this,
but it is here where he resides in a sensible Magnificence,
and in the midst of all those Splendors which can affect the
Imagination of created Beings.
It is very remarkable that this Opinion of God
Almighty’s Presence in Heaven, whether discovered by
the Light of Nature, or by a general Tradition from our
first Parents, prevails among all the Nations of the World,
whatsoever different Notions they entertain of the God/
head. If you look into Homer, that is, the most ancient
of the Greek Writers, you see the supreme Po‘wers seated
in the Heavens, and encompassed with inferior Deities,
among whom the Muses are represented as singing in!
cessantly about his Throne. Who does not here see the
main
THE SPECTATOR 87
main Strokes and Outlines of this great Truth we are No. 580.
speaking of? The same Doctrine is shadowed out in Friday, 3
many other Heathen Authors, tho’ at the same time, like I
several other revealed Truths, dashed and adulterated with '
a Mixture of Fables and human Inventions. But to pass
over the Notions of the Greeks and Romans, those more
enlightened Parts of the Pagan World, we find there is
scarce a People among the late discovered Nations who
are not trained up in an Opinion, that Heaven is the
Habitation of the Divinity whom they worship.
As in Solomon's Temple there was the Sanctum
Sanctorum, in which a visible Glory appeared among
the Figures of the Cherubins, and into which none but
the High/Priest himself was permitted to enter, after
having made an Atonement for the Sins of the People;
so if we consider the whole Creation as one great Temple,
there is in it this Holy of Holies, into which the High,
Priest of our Salvation entered, and took his Place among
Angels and Archangels, after having made a Propitiation
for the Sins of Mankind.
With how much Skill must the Throne of God be
erected ? With what glorious Designs is that Habitation
beautified, which is contrived and built by him who in/
spired Hyram with Wisdom? How great must be the
Majesty of that Place, where the whole Art of Creation
has been employed, and where God has chosen to show
himself in the most magnificent Manner? What must
be the Architecture of Infinite Power under the Direction
of Infinite Wisdom? A Spirit cannot but be transported,
after an ineffable manner, with the sight of those Objects,
which were made to affect him by that Being who knows
the inward Frame of a Soul, and how to please and ravish
it in all its most secret Powers and Faculties. It is to
this majestick Presence of God, we may apply those
beautiful Expressions in holy Writ; Behold even to the
Moon, and it shineth not: yea the Stars are not pure
in his Sight. The Light of the Sun, and all the Glories
of the World in which we live, are but as weak and
sickly Glimmerings, or rather Darkness it self, in com/
parison of those Splendors which encompass the Throne
of God.
As
88 THE SPECTATOR
iday,
Egg'ust 13,
580.
As the Glory of this Place is transcendent beyond
Imagination, so probably is the Extent of it. There is
Light behind Light, and Glory within Glory. How far
that Space may reach, in which God thus appears in
perfect Majesty, we cannot possibly conceive. Tho’ it is
not infinite, it may be indefinite; and tho’- not immeasurn
able in its self, it may be so with regard to any created
Eye or Imagination. If he has made these lower Regions
of Matter so inconceivably wide and magnificent for the
Habitation of mortal and perishable Beings, how great
may we suppose the Courts of his House to be, where
he makes his Residence in a more especial manner, and
displays himself in the Fullness of his Glory, among an
innumerable Company of Angels, and Spirits of just Men
made perfect?
This is certain, that our Imaginations cannot be raised
too high, when we think on a Place where Omnipotence
and Omniscience have so signally exerted themselves,
because that they are able to produce a Scene infinitely
more great and glorious than what we are able to
imagine. It is not impossible but at the Consummation
of all Things, these outward Apartments of Nature, which
are now suited to those Beings who inhabit them, may
be taken in and added to that glorious Place of which I
am here speaking; and by that means made a proper
Habitation for Beings who are exempt from Mortality,
and cleared of their Imperfections: For so the Scripture
seems to intimate, when it speaks of new Heavens and
of a new Earth, wherein dwelleth Righteousness.
I have only considered this Glorious Place, with regard
to the Sight and Imagination, though it is highly probable
that our other Senses may here likewise enjoy their
highest Gratifications. There is nothing which more
ravishes and transports the Soul, than Harmony; and
we have great Reason to believe, from the Descriptions
of this Place in Holy Scripture, that this is one of the
Entertainments of it. And if the Soul of Man can be
so wonderfully affected with those Strains of Musick,
which Human Art is capable of producing, how much
more will it be raised and elevated by those, in which
is exerted the whole Power of Harmony! The Senses
are

THE SPECTATQR 89
are Faculties of the Human Soul, though they cannot
be employ'd, during this our vital Union, without proper
Instruments in the Body. Why therefore should we
exclude the Satisfaction of these Faculties, which we
find by Experience are Inlets of great Pleasure to the
Soul, from among those Entertainments which are to
make up our Happiness hereafter? Why should we
suppose that our Hearing and Seeing will not be gratify’d
with those Obiects Wthh are most agreeable to them,
and which they cannot meet with in these lower Regions
of Nature; Obiects, which neither Eye has seen, nor
Bar heard, nor can it enter into the Heart of Man to
conceive! I knew a Man in Christ (says St. Paul
speaking of himself) above fourteen Years ago (whether
in the Body, I cannot tell, or whether out of the Body,
I cannot tell: God knoweth) such a one caught up to
the third Heaven. And I knew such a Man (whether
in the Body, or out of the Body, I cannot tell: God
knoweth) how that he was caught up into Paradise,
and heard unspeakable Words, which it is not possible
for Man to utter. By this is meant, that what he heard
was so infinitely different from any thing which he had
heard in this World, that it was impossible to express
it in such Words as might convey a Notion of it to his
Hearers.
It is very natural for us to take Delight in Enquiries
concerning any foreign Country, where we are some
Time or other to make our Abode; and as we all hope
to be admitted into this glorious Place, it is both a
laudable and useful Curiosity, to get what Informations
we can of it, whilst we make use of Revelation for our
Guide. When these everlasting Doors shall be open to
us, we may be sure that the Pleasures and Beauties of
this Place will infinitely transcend our present Hopes
and Expectations, and that the glorious Appearance of
the Throne of God, will rise infinitely beyond whatever
we are able to conceive of it. We might here entertain
ourselves with many other Speculations on this Subject,
from those several Hints which we find of it in the
,Holy Scriptures; as whether there may not be different
Mansions and Apartments of Glory, to Beings of cgfferent
atures
No, 580,
Friday,
Au us't 13,
1mg.
90 THE SPECTATOR
NOI 8 On
Friday,
Au ust 13
1715
Natures; whether as they excel one another in Per.
fection, they are not admitted nearer to the Throne of
'the Almighty, and enjoy greater Manifestations of his
Presence; whether there are not solemn Times and
Occasions, when all the Multitude of Heaven celebrate
the Presence of their Maker in more extraordinary
Forms of Praise and Adoration; as Adam, though he
had continued in a State of Innocence, would, in the
Opinion of our Divines, have kept holy the Sabbath
Day, in a more particular Manner than any other of
the Seven. These, and the like Speculations, we may
very innocently indulge, so long as we make use of
them to inspire us with a Desire of becoming Inhabitants
of this delightful Place.
I have in this, and in two foregoing Letters, treated on
the most serious Subject that can employ the Mind of
Man, the Omnipresence of the Deity; a Subject which,
if possible, should never depart from our Meditations.
We have considered the Divine Being, as he inhabits
Infinitude, as he dwells among his Work, as he is present
to the Mind of Man, and as he discovers himself in a more
glorious Manner among the Regions of the Blest. Such a
Consideration should be kept awake in us at all Times, and
in all Places, and possess our Minds with a perpetual Awe
and Reverence. It should be interwoven with all our
Thou hts and Perceptions, and become One with the
Consciousness of our own Being. It is not to be reflecte
on in the Coldness of Philosophy, but ought to sink u
into the lowest Prostration before him, whois so astonish
ingly Great, Wonderful, and Holy.’
No. 581.


Monday, August 16.
Sunt bona, sunt quaedam mediocria, sunt mala plura
Ouae legis Mart.
AM at present sitting with a Heap of Letters bef
I me, which I have received under the Character
SPECTATOR; I have Complaints from Lovers, Schemes fr
Projectors, Scandal from Ladies, Congratulations, Compli
ments, and Advice in abundance.


’—


THE SPECTATOR '91
I have not been thus long an Author, to be insensible
of the natural Fondness every Person must have for their
own Productions; and I begin to think I have treated
my Correspondents a little too uncivilly in stringing
them all together on a File, and letting them lye so long
unregarded. I shall therefore, for the future, think my
self at least obliged to take some Notice of such Letters
asI receive, and may possibly do it at the End of every
Month.
In the mean time, I intend my present Paper as a
short Answer to most of those which have been already
sent me.
The Publick however is not to expect I should let
them into all my Secrets; and though I appear abstruse
to most People, it is sufficient if I am understood by my
particular Correspondents.
My Well/wisher Van Nath is very arch, but not quite
enough so to appear in Print.
Philadelphus will, in a little time, see his Query fully
answered by a Treatise which is now in the Press.
It was very improper at that time to comply with
Miss Kitty must excuse me.
The Gentleman who sent me a Copy of Verses on
his Mistress's Dancing, is I believe too thoroughly in
Love to compose correctly.
I have too great a Respect for both the Universities,
to praise one at the Expense of the other.
Tom Nimble is a very honest Fellow, and I desire
him to present my humble Service to his Cousin Fill.
Bumper.
I am obliged for the Letter upon Prejudice.
I may in due time animadvert on the Case of Grace
Crumble.
The Petition of P. S. granted.
That of Sarah Loveit, refused.
The Papers of A. S. are returned.
I thank Aristippus for his kind Invitation.
My Friend at Woodstock is a bold Man, to undertake
r all within Ten Miles of him.
Iam afraid the Entertainment of Tom Turnover will
1v, 2 c hardly



No. 581.
Monday,
August 16,
1714.
92 THE SPECTATOR

o. 581.
onday,
August 16,
714.
hardly be relished by the good Cities of London and
Westminster.
I must consider further of it, before I indulge W. F.
in those Freedoms he takes with the Lady’s Stockings.
I am obliged to the ingenious Gentleman, who sent
me an Ode on the Subject of a late SPECTATOR, and shall
take particular Notice of his last Letter.
When the Lady who wrote me a Letter, dated july
the 20th, in relation to some Passages in a Lover, will
be more particular in her Directions, I shall be so in
my Answer.
The poor Gentleman, who fancies my Writings could
reclaim an Husband who can abuse such a Wife as he
describes, has I am afraid too great an Opinion of my
Skill.
Philanthropos is, I dare say, a very well/meaning
Man, but is a little too prolix in his Compositions.
Constantius himself must be the best Judge in the
Affair he mentions.
The Letter dated from Lincoln is received.
Areth usa and her Friend may hear further from me.
Celia is a little too hasty.
Harriot is a good Girl, but must not curtsie to Folks
she does not know.
I must ingeniously confess my Friend Sampson Bent.
staff has quite puzzled me, and writ me a long Letter
which I cannot comprehend one~Word of.
Collidan must also explain what he means by his
Drigelling.
I think it beneath my Spectatorial Dignity to concern
my self in the Affair of the boiled Dumpling.
I shall consult some Litterati on the Project sent me
for the Discovery of the Longitude.
I know not how to conclude this Paper better, than by
inserting a Couple of Letters which are really genuine,
and which I look upon to be two of the smartest Pieces I
have received from my Correspondents of either Sex.
’ Brother SPEC,
While you are surveying every Object that falls i
your way, I am wholly taken up with one. Had tha
Sag
THE SPECTATOR 93 '
Sage, who demanded what Beauty was, lived to seeT the No. 581.
dear Angel I love, he would not have asked such a MWdaYv
Question. ' Had another seen her, he would himself have 3??“
loved the Person in whom Heaven has made Virtue "
visible; and were you your self to be in her Company,
you could never, with all your Loquacity, say enough
of her good Humour and Sense. I send you the Outlines
of a Picture, which I can no more finish than I can
sufficiently admire the dear Original. I am,
Your most affectionate Brother,
Constantio Spec.’
- ‘ Good Mr. Pert,
I will allow you nothing 'till you resolve me the follow.
ing Question. Pray what’s the Reason that while you
only talk now upon Wednesdays, Fridays, and Mondays,
you pretend to be a greater Tatler, than when you spoke
every Day as you formerly used to do? If this be your
plunging out of your Taciturnity, pray let the Length of
your Speeches compensate for the Scarceness of them.
I am,
Good Mr. Pert,
Your Admirer,
if you will be long enough for Me,
Amanda Lovelengthl
No. 5.82.
[ADDISONJ Wednesday, August 18.
d—Tenet insanabile multos
Scribendi cacoethes—.——Juv. _
HERE is a certain Distemper, which is mentioned
neither by Galen nor Hippocrates, nor to be met
with in the London Dispensary. juvenal, in the Motto
of my Paper, terms it a Cacoethes; which is a hard Word
for a Disease called in plain English, the Itch of Writing.
This Cacoethes is as Epidemical as the Small/Pox, there
being very few who are not seized with it some time or
other in their Lives. There is however this Difference
in these two Distempers, that the first, after having indise
posed you for a time, never returns again; whereas this
94 THE SPECTATOR
. 582.
,ed'nesw
Y1
ust 18
1.4g- '
I am speaking of, when it is once got into the Blood,
seldom comes out of it. The British Nation is. very
much afflicted with this Malady, and tho’ very many
Remedies have been applied to Persons infected with it, ..
few of them have ever proved successful. Some have
been cauterized with Satyrs and Lampoons, but have
received little or no Benefit from them; others have had
their Heads fastened for an Hour together between a »
Cleft Board, which is made use of as a Cure for the
Disease when it appears in its greatest Malignity. There
is indeed one kind of this Malady which has been some/
times removed, like the Biting of a Tarantula, with the
Sound of a musical Instrument, which is commonly
known by the Name of a Cat/Call. But if you have a
Patient of this kind under your Care, you may assure
your self there is no other way of recovering him
effectually, but by forbidding him the use of Pen, Ink,
and Paper.
But to drop the Allegory before I have tired it out,
there is no Species of Scriblers more offensive, and more
incurable, than your Periodical Writers, whose Works
return upon the Publick on certain Days and at stated
Times. We have not the Consolation in the Perusal of
these Authors, which we find at the Reading of all others,
(namely) that we are sure, if we have but Patience, we
may come to the End of their Labours. I have often
admired a humorous Saying of Diogenes, who reading
a dull Author to several of his Friends, when every one
began to be tired, finding he was almost come to a Blank
Leaf at the End of it, cried, Courage, Lads, I see Land.
On the contrary, our Progress through that kind of
Writers I am now speaking of is never at an End. One
Day makes Work for another, we do not know when to
promise our selves rest.
It is a melancholy thing to consider, that the Art of
Printing, which might be the greatest Blessing to Man»
kind, should prove detrimental to us, and that it should
be made use of to scatter Prejudice and Ignorance through
a People, instead of conveying to them Truth and Know.
led e. ‘
Igwas lately reading a very whimsical Treatise, entitled,
William
THE SPECTATOR 95
William Ramsey's Vindication of Astrology. This prov No. 582.
found Author, among many mystical Passages, has the Wednest
following one: ‘The Absence of the Sun is not the Cause AY' t,
of Night, forasmuch as his Light is so great that it may 1735“
illuminate the Earth all over at once as clear as broad
Day, but there are tenebrificous and dark Stars, by whose
Influence Night is brought on, and which do ray out
Ealkness and Obscurity upon the Earth, as the Sun does
ig - t.
I consider Writers in the same View this sage Astroa
loger does the heavenly Bodies. Some of them are
" Stars that scatter Light, as others do Darkness. I could
mention several Authors who are tenebrificous Stars of
the first Magnitude, and point out a Knot of Gentlemen
who have been dull in Consort, and may be looked upon
as a dark Constellation. The Nation has been a great
while benighted with several of these Antiluminaries.
I suffered them to ray out their Darkness as long as I
was able to endure it, ’till at length I came to a Resolution
of rising upon them, and hope in a little time to drive
them quite out of the British Hemisphere.
No. 583.
[ADDISON] Friday, August 20.
> Ipse thymum pinosque ferens de montibus altis
Tecta serat late circum, cui talia curae:
Ipse labore manum duro terat: ipse feraces
Figat humo plantas, d amicos irriget imbres.—Virg.
VERY Station of Life has Duties which are proper
to it. Those who are determined by Choice to any
particular kind of Business, are indeed more happy than
those who are determined by Necessity, but both are
under an equal Obligation of fixing on Employments,
which may be either useful to themselves or beneficial
to others. No one of the Sons of Adam ought to think
himself exempt from that Labour and Industry which
were denounced to our first Parent, and in him to all
his Posterity. Those to whom Birth or Fortune may
seem to make such an Application unnecessary, ought to
find out some Calling or Profession for themselves, tltlhat
. ey
'96
THE SPECTATOR
o. 583. they may not lye as a Burden on the Species, and be the -

riday, .
ugust
O, 1714.
only useless Parts of the Creation. ,
Many of our Country Gentlemen in their busie Hours
apply themselves wholly to the Chase, or to some other
' Diversion which they find in j the Fields and, Woods.
This gave occasion to oneof our most eminent English
Writers to represent every one of them as lying under
a kind of Curse pronounced to them in the , Words of
Goliah, I will give thee to the {owls of the air and to
the beasts of the field. a I
Tho’ Exercises of this Kind, when indulged with
Moderation, may have a good Influence both on the Mind
and Body, the Country affords many other Amusements
of a more noble Kind. ,
Among these I know none more delightful in itself,
and beneficial to the Publick, than that of PLANTING.
I could mention a Nobleman whose Fortune has placed
him in several Parts of England, and who has, always
left these visible Marks behind him, which shew he has
been there: He never hired a House in his Life, without
leaving all about it the Seeds of Wealth, and bestowing
Legacies on the Posterity of the Owner. Had all the
Gentlemen of England made the same Improvements
upon their Estates, our whole Country would have been
at this time as one great Garden. Nor ought such an
Employment to be looked upon as too inglorious for Men
of the highest Rank. There have been Heroes in this
Art, as well as in others. We are told in particular of
Cyrus the Great, that he planted all the Lesser Asia.
There is indeed something truly magnificent in this kind
of Amusement: It gives a nobler Air to several Parts of
Nature; it fills the Earth with a Variety of beautiful
Scenes, and has something in it like Creation. For this
Reason the Pleasure of one who plants is something like
that of a Poet, who, as Aristotle observes, is more den
lighted with his Productions than any other Writer or
Artist whatsoever.
Plantations have one Advantage in them which is not
to be found in most other Works, as they give a Pleasure
of a more lasting Date, and continually improve in the
Eye of the Planter. When you have finished a Building,
, or
THE SPECTATOR 97
or any other Undertaking of the like Nature, it imme/ No. 587.
diately decays upon your Hands; you see it brought to Friday.
its utmost Point of Perfection, and from that time hastem ing to its Ruin. On the contrary, when you have ’ '
' finished your Plantations, they are still arriving at greater
Degrees of Perfection as long as you live, and appear
more Delightful in every succeeding Year, than they did
in the foregoing.
But I do not only recommend this Art to Men of
Estates as a pleasing Amusement, but as it is a kind of
Virtuous Employment, and may therefore be inculcated
by moral Motives; particularly from the Love which
we ought to have for our Country, and the Regard which
we ought to bear to our Posterity. As for the first, I
need only mention what is frequently observed by others,
that the Increase of Forest/Trees does by no Means bear
a Proportion to the Destruction of them, insomuch that
in a few Ages the Nation may be at a loss to supply it/
self with Timber sufficient for the Fleets of England.
I know when a Man talks of Posterity in Matters of this
Nature, he is looked upon with an Eye of Ridicule by
the cunning and selfish Part of Mankind. Most People
are of the Humour of an old Fellow of a Colledge, who
when he was pressed by the Society to come into some.
thing that might redound to the good of their Successors,
grew very peevish, We are always doing, says he, some»
thing for Posterity, but I would fain see Posterity do
something for us.
. But I think Men are inexcusable, who fail in a Duty
of this Nature, since it is so easily discharged. When
a Man considers that the putting a few Twigs into the
Ground, is doing good to one who will make his Appear,
ance in the World about Fifty Years hence, or that he
is perhapsv making one of his own Descendants, easie,
or rich, by so inconsiderable an Expence, if he finds
himself * averse to it, he must conclude that he has a
poor and base Heart, void of all generous Principles and
Love to Mankind. .
There is one Consideration, which may very much
enforce what I have here said. Many honest Minds
that are naturally disposed to do good in the World, and
bwome
-\
98 THE SPECTATOR
.583. become Beneficial to Mankind, complain within them/
'day. selves that they have not Talents for it. This therefore
tibia is a good Office, which is suited to the meanest Capacities,
' ' and which may be performed by Multitudes, who have
not Abilities sufficient to deserve well of their Country
and to recommend themselves to their Posterity, by any
other Method. It is the Phrase of a Friend of mine,
when any useful Country Neighbour dies, that you may
trace him: which I look upon as a good Funeral Oration,
at the Death of an honest Husbandman, who has left
the Impressions of his Industry behind him, in the
Place where he has lived.
Upon the foregoing Considerations, I can scarce for»
bear representing the Subject of this Paper as a kind of
Moral Virtue: which, as I have already shown, recom/
mends itself likewise by the Pleasure that attends it. It
must be confessed, that this is none of those turbulent
Pleasures which is apt to gratifie a Man in the Heats of
Youth; but if it be not so Tumultuous, it is more Lasting.
Nothing can be more delightful, than to entertain our
selves with Prospects of our own making, and to walk
under those Shades which our own Industry has raised.
Amusements of this Nature compose the Mind, and lay
at rest all those Passions which are uneasie to the Soul
of Man, besides, that they naturally engender good
Thoughts, and dispose us to laudable Contemplations.
Many of the old Philosophers passed away the greatest
Parts of their Lives among their Gardens. Epicurus
himself could not think sensual Pleasure attainable in
any other Scene. Every Reader who is acquainted with-
Homer, Virgil, and Horace, the greatest Genius's of all
Antiquity, knows very well with how much Rapture
they have spoken on this Subject; and that Virgil in
particular has Written a Whole Book on the Art of
Planting.
This Art seems to have been more especially adapted
to the Nature of Man in his Primaeval State, when he
had Life enough to see his Productions flourish in their
utmost Beauty, and gradually decay with him. One
who lived before the Flood might have seen a Wood of
the tallest Oaks in the Acorn. But I only mention this
-. -> Particular
THE SPECTATOR 99'
Particular, in order to introduce in my next Paper, a No. 533,
History which I have found among the Accounts of Friday.
China, and which may be looked upon as an Ante. 531%;3
diluvian Novel. ’ ‘
No. 584.
[ADDISONJ Monday, August 23.
Hic gelidi fontes, hic mollia prata, Lycori,
Hic nemus, hic ipso tecum consumerer aevo.—Virg.-
HILPA was one of the 150 Daughters of Zilpah, of
the race of Cohu, by whom some of the Learned
think is meant Cain. She was exceedingly beautiful, and
when she was but a Girl of Threescore and ten Years of
Age; received the Addresses of several who made Love
to her. Among these were two Brothers, Harpath and
Shalum; Harpath, being the First~born, was Master of
that fruitful Region which lies at the Foot of Mount
Tirzah, in the Southern Parts of China. Shalum (which
is to say the Planter in the Chinese Language) possessed
all the neighbouring Hills, and that great Range of Moum
tains which goes under the Name of Tirzah. Harpath
was of a haughty contemptuous Spirit; Shalum was of a
gentle Disposition, beloved both by God and Man.
It is said that, among the Antediluvian Women, the
Daughters of Cohu had their Minds wholly set upon
Riches; for which Reason the beautiful Hilpa preferr'd
Harpath to Shalum, because of his numerous Flocks and
Herds, that covered all the low Country which runs along
the Foot of Mount Tirzah, and is watered by several
Fountains and Streams breaking out of the Sides of that
Mountain.
Harpath made so quick a Dispatch of his Courtship,
that he married Hilpah in the Hundredth Year of her
Age; and being of an insolent Temper, laughed to Scorn
his Brother Shalum for having pretended to the beau.
tiful Hilpa, when he was Master of nothing but a long
Chain of Rocks and Mountains. This so much provoked
Shalum, that he is said to have cursed his Brother in the
Bitterness of his Heart, and to have prayed that one of
his Mountains might fall upon his Head, if ever he came
within the Shadow of it. '
From

100 THE SPECTATOR
. 584. From this Time forward Harpath would never venture
mail)" out of the Vallies, but came to an untimely End in the
259th Year of his Age, being drowned in a River as he
attempted to cross it. This River is called to this Day,
from his Name who perished in it, the River Harpath,
and, what is very remarkable, issues out of one of those
Mountains which Shalum wished might fall upon his
IBirother, when he cursed him in the Bitterness of his
eart- ' ‘
Hilpa was in the 160th Year of her Age at the Death
of her Husband, having brought him but 50 Children,
before he was snatched away, as has been already related.
Many of the Antediluvians made Love to the young
Widow, tho’ no one was thought so likely to succeed in
her Affections as her first Lover Shalum, who renewed
his Court to her about ten Years after the Death of
Harpath; for it was not thought decent in those Days
that a Widow should be seen-by a Man within ten Years
after the Decease of her Husband.
Shalum falling into a deep Melancholy, and resolw
ing to take away that Objection which had been raised
against him when he made his first Addresses to Hilpah,
began immediately after her Marriage with Harpath, to
plant all that mountainous Region which fell to his Lot
in the Division of this Country. He knew how to adapt
every Plant to its proper Soil, and is thought to have
inherited many traditional Secrets of that Art from the
first Man. This Employment turn'd at length to his
Profit as well as to his Amusement: His Mountains were
in a few. Years shaded with young Trees, that gradually
shot up into Groves, Woods, and Forests, intermixed with
Walks, and Launs, and Gardens; insomuch that the whole
Region, from a naked and desolate Prospect, began now
to look like a second Paradise. The Pleasantness of the
Place, and the a reeable Disposition of Shalum, who was
reckoned one o the mildest and wisest of all who lived
before the Flood, drew into it Multitudes of People, who
were perpetually employed in the sinking of Wells, the
diggingv of Trenches, and the hollowing of Trees, for the
better Distribution of Water through every Part of this
spacious Plantation. Th
e
THE SPECTATOR 101
The Habitations of Shalum looked every Year more No. 584.
beautiful in the Eyes of Hilpa, who, after the Space of Monday,
70 Autumns, was wonderfully pleased with the distant 2A3“ Prospect of Shalum’s Hills, which were then covered ' '
with innumerable Tufts of Trees and gloomy Scenes
that gave a Magnificence to the Place, and converted it-
into one of the finest Landskips the Eye of Man could
behold. '
.The Chinese record a Letter which Shalum is said
to have written to Hilpa, in the Eleventh Year of her
Widowhood. I shall here translate it, without departing
from that noble Simplicity of Sentiments, and Plainness
of Manners, which appears in the OriginaL
l765’halum was at this Time 180 years old, and Hilpa
‘Shalum, Master of Mount Tirzah, to Hilpa, Mistress
‘ » of the Vallies. ‘
In the 788th Year of the Creation.
- What have I not suffered, O thou Daughter of Zilpah,
since thou gavest thy self away in Marriage to my
Rival? I grew weary of the Light of the Sun, and have
been ever since covering my self with Woods and
Forests. These threescore and ten Years have I be/
wailed the Loss of thee on the Tops of Mount Tirzah,
and soothed my Melancholy among a thousand gloomy
Shades of my own raising. My Dwellings are at
present as the Garden of God; every Part of them is
filled with Fruits, and Flowers, and Fountains. The
whole Mountain is perfumed for thy Reception. Come
up into it, O my Beloved, and let us people this Spot of
the new World with a beautiful Race of Mortals; let us
multiply exceedingly among these delightful Shades, and
fill every Quarter of them with Sons and Daughters.
Remember, O thou Daughter of Zilpah, that the Age
of Man is but a thousand Years; that Beauty is the
Admiration but of a few Centuries. It flourishes as a
Mountain Oak, or as a Cedar on the Top of Tirzah,
which in three or four hundred Years will fade away,
and never be thought of a by Posterity, unless a yvovutgg
o
102 THE SPECTATOR
0.584. ‘ Wood spri s from its Roots. Think well on this, and
ondav. remember t y‘ Neighbour in the Mountains.’
auglgi'; _ Having here inserted this Letter, which I look upon
’ ' as the only Antediluvian Billet/dour now extant, I shall
in my next Paper give the Answer to it, and the
Sequel of this Story. ‘
No. 585.
[ADDISQNJ Wednesday, August 25.
' Ipsi laetitia voces ad sidera jactant
Intonsi montes : ipsae jam carmina rupes,
Ipsa sonant arbusta .—Virg.
‘The Sequel of the Story of Shalum and Hilpa.
' I ‘HE Letter inserted in my last had so good an
Effect upon Hilpa, that she answered it in less
than a Twelvemonth after the following manner. »
‘Hilpa, Mistress of the Vallies, to Shalum, Master
of Mount Tirzah.
In the 789th Year of the Creation.
What have I to do with thee, O Shalum ? Thou
praisest Hilpa’s Beauty, but art thou not secretly en»
amoured with the Verdure of her Meadows? Art thou
not more affected with the Prospect of her green Vallies,
than thou wouldest be with the Sight of her Person?
The Lowings of my Herds, and the Bleatings of my
Flocks, make a pleasant Eccho in thy Mountains, and
sound sweetly in thy Ears. 'What tho’ I am delighted
with the Wavings of thy Forests, and those Breezes of
Perfumes which flow from the Top of Tirzah : Are
these like the Riches of the Valley? ‘
I know thee, O Shalum; thou art more wise and
happy than any of the Sons of Men. Thy Dwellings
are among the Cedars; thou searchest out the Diversity
of Soils, thou understandest the Influences of the Stars,
and markest the Change of Seasons. Can a Woman
appear lovely in the Eyes of such a one? Disquiet me
not, O Shalum; let me alone, that I may enjoy those
goodly Possessions- which are fallen to my Lot. Win
me not by thy enticing Words. May thy Trees increasg
an

THE SPECTATOR 103
and multiply; mayest thou add Wood to Wood, and No. 585.
Shade to Shade; but tempt not Hilpa to destroy thy Wednei'
Solitude, and make thy Retirement populous.’ i?" “st
The Chinese say, that a little time afterwards she 2 5' g1714‘
accepted of a Treat in one of the neighbouring Hills
to which Shalum had invited her. This Treat lasted for
two Years, and is said to have cost Shalum five hundred
Antelopes, two thousand Ostriches, and a thousand Tun
of Milk; but what most of all recommended it, was that
Variety of delicious Fruits and Potherbs, in which no
Person then living could any way equal Shalum.
He treated her in the Bower which he had planted
amidst the Wood of Nightingales. The Wood was made
up of such Fruit Trees and Plants as are most agreeable
to the several Kinds of Singing/Birds; so that it had
drawn into it all the Musick of the Country, and was
filled from one End of the Year to the other with the
most agreeable Consort in Season.
He shewed her every day some beautiful and surpris/
ing Scene» in this new Region of Wood/lands; and as
by this means he had all the Opportunities he could
wish for of opening his Mind to her, he succeeded so well,
that upon her Departure she made him a kind of Promise,
and gave him her Word to return him a positive Answer
in less than fifty Years.
She had not been long among her own People in the
Vallies, when she received new Overtures, and at the
same Time a most splendid Visit from Mishpach, who
was a mighty Man of old, and had built a great City,
which he called after his own Name. Every House
was made for at least a thousand Years, nay there were
some that were leased out for three Lives; so that the
Quantity of Stone and Timber consumed in this Build/
ing is scarce to be imagined by those who live in the
present Age of the World. This great Man entertained
her with the Voice of musical Instruments which had
been lately invented, and danced before her to the Sound
of the Timbrel. He also presented her with several
domestick Utensils wrought in Brass and Iron, which
had been newly found out for the Conveniency of Life.
In the mean time Shalom grew very uneasie with
se
104 THE SPECTATOR
Q! a
ednes/
ay,
ugust
5, 1714.
self, and was sorely displeased at Hilpa for the Reception
which she had given to Mishpach, insomuch that he,
never wrote to her or spoke of her during a whole
Revolution of Saturn; but finding that this Intercourse
went. no further than a Visit, he again renewed his
Addresses to her, who during his long Silence is said
very often to have cast a wishing Eye upon Mount
Tirzah. - i ' ‘
Her Mind continued wavering about twenty Years
longer between Shalum‘ and Mishpach; for tho' her
Inclinations favoured the former, her Interest pleaded,
very powerfully for the other. While her 'Heart was
in this unsettled Condition, the following Accident hapv
pened which determined her Choice. A high Tower
of Wood that stood in the City of Mishpach having
caught Fire by a Flash of Lightning, in a few Days
reduced the whole Town to Ashes. Mishpach resolved
to rebuild the Place, whatever it should cost him; and
having already destroyed all the Timber of the Country,
he was forced to have recourse to Shalum, whose Forests
were now two hundred Years old. He purchased these
Woods with so many Herds of Cattle and Flocks of
Sheep, and with such a vast Extent of Fields and Pastures.
that Shalum was now grown more wealthy than Mish/
pach; and therefore appeared so charming in the Eyes
of Zilpah’s Daughter, that she no longer refused him in
Marriage. On the Day in which he brought her up into
the Mountains he raised a most prodigious Pile of Cedar,
and of every sweet smelling Wood, which reached above
300 Cubits in height: He also cast into the Pile Bundles
of Myrrh and Sheaves of Spikenard, enriching it with
every spicy Shrub, and making it fat with the Gums of
his Plantations. This was the Burnt/Offering which
- Shalum offered in the Day of his Espousals; the Smoke
of it ascended up to Heaven, and filled the whole Country
with Incense and Perfume. . ' .
Friday
“THE . SPECTATOR 105
No. 586. No. 586
[ADDISON] Friday, August 27. Edam
-——Quae in vita usurpant homines, cogitant, curant, trident, 27,1714,
quae ue agunt vigilantes, agitantque, ea cuique in some
acci Ufltr—CIQ De Div.
Y the last Post I received the following Letter, which
is built upon a Thought that is new, and very well
carried on; for which Reasons I shall give it to the
Publick without Alteration, Addition, or Amendment.
’ Sir,
It was a good Piece of Advice which Pythagoras gave
to his Scholars, That every Night before they slept they
should examine what they had been a doing that Day, and
so discover what Actions were worthy of Pursuit to
Morrow, and what little Vices were to be prevented
from slipping unawares into a Habit. If I might second
the Philosopher's Advice, it should be mine, That in a
Morning before -my Scholar rose, he should consider
what he had been about that Night, and with the same
Strictness, as if the Condition, he has believ'd himself
to be in, was real. Such a Scrutiny into the Actions
of his Fancy must be of considerable Advantage, for
this Reason, Because the Circumstances which a Man
imagines himself in during Sleep, are generally such as
entirely favour his Inclinations good or bad, and give
him imaginary Opportunities of pursuing them to the
utmost; so that his Temper will lye fairly open to his
View, while he considers how it is moved when free
from those Constraints which the Accidents of real Life
put it under. Dreams are certainly the Result of our
waking Thoughts, and our daily Hopes and Fears are
what give the Mind such nimble Relishes of Pleasure,
and such severe Touches of Pain, in its Midnight Rambles.
A Man that murders his Enemy, or deserts his Friend in
a Dream, had need to guard his Temper against Revenge
and Ingratitude, and take heed that he be not tempted to
do a vile thing in the Pursuit of false, or the Neglect of
true Honour. For my Part, I seldom receive a Benefit,
but in a Night or two's Time I make most noble Returns
for it; which tho' my Benefactor is not a whit the better
for
106 THE SPECTATOR
o. 586.
iday,
ucust
a
for, yet it pleases me to think that it was from a Principle
of Gratitude in me, that my Mind was susceptible of such
generous Transport while I thought my self repaying the
Kindness of my Friend: And I have often been ready to
beg Pardon, instead of returning an Injury, after con.
sidering, that when the Offender was in my Power I
had carried my Resentments much too far.
I think it has been observ'd in the Course of your
Papers, how much one’s Happiness or Misery may
depend upon the Imagination: Of which Truth those
strange Workings of Fancy in Sleep are no inconsider.
able Instances; so that not only the Advantage a Man
has of making Discoveries of himself, but a Regard to
his own Ease or Disquiet, may induce him to accept of
my Advice. Such as are willing to comply with it,
I shall put into a way of doing it with Pleasure, by
observing only one Maxim which I shall give them,
viz. To go to Bed with a Mind entirely free from
Passion, and a Body clear of the least In temperance.
They indeed who can sink into Sleep with their
Thoughts less calm or innocent than they should be, do
but plunge themselves into Scenes of Guilt and Misery;
or they who are willing to purchase any Midnight Dis.
quietudes for the Satisfaction of a full Meal, or a Skin full
of Wine; these I have nothing to say to, as not know.
ing how to invite ’em to Reflections full of Shame and
Horror: But those that will observe this Rule, I promise
'em they shall awake into Health and Cheerfulness, and
be capable of recounting with Delight those glorious
Moments wherein the Mind has been indulging it self
in such Luxury of Thought, such noble Hurry of Imagin.
ation. Suppose a Man's going supperless to Bed should
introduce him to the Table of some great Prince or other,
where he shall be entertained with the noblest Marks of
Honour and Plenty, and do so much Business after, that
he shall rise with as good a Stomach to his Breakfast as
if he had fasted all Night long; or suppose he should see
his dearest Friends remain all Night in great Distresses,
which he could instantly have disingaged them from,
could he have been content to have gone to Bed without
the t’other Bottle: Believe me, these Effects of Fancy are
no

THE SPECTATOR 107
no contemptible Consequences of commanding or indulg/ No. 586.
ing one's Appetite. FridaYv
I forbear recommending my Advice upon many other
Accounts, 'till I hear how you and your Readers relish ’
- what I have already said; among whom, if there be any
that may pretend it is useless to them, because they never
dream at all, there may be others, perhaps, who do little
else all Day long. Were every one as sensible as I am
what happens to him in his Sleep, it would be no Dispute
whether we past so considerable a Portion of our Time
in the Condition of Stocks and Stones, or whether the
Soul were not perpetually at Work upon the Principle of
Thought. However, 'tis an honest Endeavour of mine
to persuade my Countrymen to reap some Advantage
from so many unregarded Hours, and as such you will
encourage it.
I shall conclude with giving you a Sketch or two of my
Way of proceeding.
If I have any Business of Consequence to do to Morrow,
I am scarce dropt asleep to Night but I am in the midst of
it, and when awake I consider the whole Procession of
the Affair, and get the Advantage of the next Day’s
Experience before the Sun has risen upon it.
There is scarce a great Post but what I have some
Time or other been in; but my Behaviour while I was
Master of a College pleases me so well, that whenever
there is a Province of that Nature vacant, I intend to step
in as soon as I can.
I have done many Things that would not pass Exami/
nation, when I have had the Art of Flying, or being
Invisible; for which Reason I am glad I am not possessed
of those extraordinary Qualities.
Lastly, Mr. SPscrAToR, I have been a great Correspondent
of yours, and have read many of my Letters in your Paper
which I never wrote to you. If you have a Mind I should
really be so, I have got a Parcel of Visions and other
Miscellanies in my Noctuary, which I shall send you to
enrich your Paper with on proper chasionsé
am, c.
Oxford, Aug. 20. John Shadow.’
IV. 2 D Monday
108
THE SPECTATOR
O: onday,
u ust
O, 714.
No. 587.
[ADDISON]
Monday, August 30.
-——Intus d in cute novi—Pers.
HO' the Author of the following Vision is unv-
known to me, I am apt to think it may be the
Work of that ingenious Gentleman, who promised me,
in the last Paper, some Extracts out of his Noctuary.
’ Sir,
I was the other Day reading the Life of Mahomet.
Among many other Extravagancies, I find it recorded
of that Impostor, that in the fourth Year of his Age the
Angel Gabriel caught him up, while he was among his
Play/fellows, and carrying him aside, cut open his Breast,
plucked out his Heart, and wrung out of it that black
Drop of Blood, in which, say the Turkish Divines, is
contained the Fomes Peccati, so that he was free from
Sin ever after. I immediately said to my self, tho' this
Story be a Fiction, a very good Moral may be drawn
from it, would every Man but apply it to himself, and
endeavour to squeeze out of his Heart whatever Sins or
ill Qualities he finds in it.
While my Mind was wholly taken up with this Con.
templation, I insensibly fell into a most pleasing Slumber,
when methought- two Porters entered my Chamber,
carrying a large Chest between them. After having
set it down in the middle of the Room they departed.
I immediately endeavoured to open what was sent me,
when a Shape, like that in which we paint our Angels,
appeared before me, and forbad me. Enclosed, said he,
are the Hearts of several of your Friends and Acquaint/
ance; but before you can be qualified to see and anim/
advert on the Failings of others, you must be pure
your self; whereupon he drew out his Incision Knife,
cut me open, took out my Heart, and began to squeeze
it. I was in a great Confusion, to see how many things,
whichI had always cherished as Virtues, issued out of my
Heart on this Occasion. In short, after it had been
througth squeezed, it looked like an empty Bladder,
when the Phantome, breathing a fresh Particle of Divide
1r
THE SPECTATOR 109
Air into it, restored it safe to its former Repository; and No. 587.
having sewed me up, we began to examine the Chest. MOndayi
The, Hearts were all enclosed in transparent Phials, and preserved in a Liquor which looked like Spirits of ’ '
Wine. The first which I cast my Eye upon, I was
afraid would have broke the Glass which contained it.
It shot up and down, with incredible Swiftness, thro’
the Liquor in which it swam, and very frequently
bounced~ against the Side of the PhiaL The Fomes,
or Spot in the Middle of it, was not large, but of a red
fiery. Colour, and seemed to be the Cause of these violent
Agitations. That, says my Instructor, is the Heart of
Tom. Dread/Nough t, who behaved himself well in the
late Wars, but has for these Ten Years last past been
aiming at some Post of Honour to no Purpose. He is
lately retired into the Country, where, quite choaked up
with Spleen and Choler, he rails at better Men than
himself, and will be for ever uneasie, because it is imw
sible he should think his Merit sufficiently rewarded.
To]; next Heart that I examined was remarkable for its
Smallness; it lay still at the Bottom of the Phial, and I
could hardly perceive that it beat at alL The Phomes
was quite black, and had abnost diffused itself over the
whole Heart. This, says my Interpreter, is the Heart
of Dick Gloomy, who never thirsted after any thing but
Mony. Notwithstanding all his Endeavours, he is still
poor. This has flung him into a most deplorable State
of Melancholly and Despair. He is a Composition of
Envy and Idleness, hates Mankind, but gives them their
Revenge by being more uneasie to himself than to any
one else.
The Phial I looked upon next contained a large fair
Heart, which» beat very strongly. The Fomes or Spot
in it was exceeding small; but I could not help observing,
that which way soever I turned the Phial it always
appeared uppermost, and in the strongest Point of Light.
The Heart you are examining, says my Companion,
belongs to Will. Worthy. He has, indeed, a most noble
Soul, and . is possessed of a thousand good Qualities. The
Speck, which you discover is Vanity. - ‘ ‘
Here, says the Angel, the Heart of Freelo ve, your
' intimate

_/
110 THE SPECTATOR
. 587.
nday,
gust
, 1714.
intimate Friend. Freelove and I, said I, are at present
very cold to one another, and I do not care for looking
on the Heart of a Man, which I fear is overcast with
Rancour. My Teacher commanded me to look upon
it; I did so, and to my unspeakable Surprise, found that
a small swelling Spot, which I at first took to be [11/
lViII towards me, was only Passion, and that upon my
nearer Inspection it wholly disappeared; upon which the
Phantome told me Freelove was one of the best/natured
Men alive.
This, says my Teacher, is a Female Heart of your
Acquaintance. I found the Fomes in it of the largest
Size, and of a hundred different Colours, which were
still varying every Moment. Upon my asking to whom
it belonged, I was informed that it was the Heart of
Coquetilla. _
I set it down, and drew out another, in which I took
the Fomes at first Sight to be very small, but was
amazed to find, that as I looked stedfastly upon it, it
grew still larger. It was the Heart of Melissa, a noted
Prude who lives the next Door to me.
I show you this, says the Phantome, because it is
indeed a Rarity and you have the Happiness to know
the Person to whom it belongs. He then put into my
Hands a large Chrystal Glass, that enclosed an Heart,
in which, though I examined it with the- utmost Nicety,
I could not perceive any Blemish. I made no Scruple
to affirm that it must be the Heart of Seraphina, and
was glad, but not surprized, to find that it was so. She
is, indeed, continued my Guide, the Ornament, as well
as the Envy, of her Sex; at these last Words, he pointed
to the Hearts of several of her Female Acquaintance
which lay in different Phials, and had very large Spots
in them, all of a deep Blue. You are not to wonder,
says he, that you see no Spot in an Heart, whose
Innocence has been Proof against all the Corruptions
of a depraved Age. If it has any Blemish, it is too
small to be discovered by Human Eyes.
I layed it down, and took up the Hearts of other Females,
in all of which the Fomes ran in several Veins, which
were twisted together, and made a very perplexed Figure.
I
THE SPECTATOR 111
I asked the Meaning of it, and was told it represented
Deceit. .
I should have been glad to have examined the Hearts
of several of my Acquaintance, whom I knew to be
particularly addicted to Drinking, Gaming, Intreaguing,
do. but my Interpreter told me I must let that alone
till another Opportunity, and flung down the Cover of the
Chest with so much Violence, as immediately awoke me.’
No. 588.
[HENRY GROVE] Wednesday, September 1.
Dicitis, omnis in imbecillitate est et gratia, et caritas.
—Cicero, De Nat. Deor.
AN may be considered in two Views, as a Reason/
able, and as a Sociable Being; capable of becoming
himself either happy or miserable, and of contributing
to the Happiness or Misery of his Fellow/Creatures.
Suitably to this double Capacity, the Contriver of Human
Nature hath wisely furnished it with two Principles of
Action, Self/love and Benevolence; designed one of them
to render Man wakeful to his own personal Interest,
the other to dispose him for giving his utmost Assistance
to all engaged in the same Pursuit. This is such an
Account of our Frame, so agreeable to Reason, so much
for the Honour of our Maker, and the Credit of our
Species, that it may appear somewhat unaccountable
what should induce Men to represent human Nature
as they do under Characters of Disadvantage, or, having
drawn it with a little and sordid Aspect, what Pleasure
they can possibly take in such a Picture. Do they
reflect that it is their own, and, if we will believe
themselves, is not more odious than the Original?
One of the first that talked in this lofty Strain of our
Nature was-Epicurus. Beneficence, would his Followers
say, is all founded in Weakness; and, whatever he prev
tended, the Kindness that passeth between Men and
Men is by every Man directed to himself. This, it
must be confessed, is of a Piece with the rest of that
hopeful Philosophy, which having patched Man up out
of the four Elements, attributes his Being to Chance,
and derives all his Actions from an unintelligible Den
clination
No. 58
Monda
August
30, 171 ‘
112
THE SPECTATOR
clination of Atoms. And for these glorious Discoveries,
the Poet is beyond Measure transported in the Praises
of his Hero, as if he must needs be something more
than Man, only for an Endeavour to prove that Man
is in nothing superior to Beasts. In this School was
Mr. Hobbes instructed to speak after the same Manner,
if he did not rather draw his Knowledge from an
Observation of his own. Temper; for he somewhere
unluckily lays down this as a Rule, ‘That from the
Similitudes of Thoughts and Passions of one Man to
the Thoughts and Passions of another, whosoever
looks into himself and considers what he doth when
he thinks, hopes, fears, fic. and upon what Grounds;
he shall hereby read and know what are the Thoughts
and Passions of all other Men upon the like Occasions.’
Now we will allow Mr. Hobbes to know best how
he was inclined: But in earnest, -I should be heartily
out of Conceit with my self, if I thought my self
of this unamiable Temper, as he affirms, and should
have as little Kindness for my self as for any Body
in the World. Hitherto I always imagined that kind
and benevolent Propensions were the Original Growth
of the Heart of Man, and, however checked and over»
toped by counter Inclinations that have since sprung up
within us, have still some Force in the worst of Tempers,
and a considerable Influence on the best. And, methinks,
it is a fair Step towards the Proof of this, that the most
beneficent of all Beings is He who hath an absolute
Fulness of Perfection in Himself, who, gave Existence to
the Universe, and so cannot be supposed to want that
which He communicated, without diminishing from the
'Plenitude of his own Power and Happiness. The
Philosophers beforementioned have indeed done all that
in them lay to invalidate this Argument; for, placing
the Gods in a State of the most elevated Blessedness,
they describe them as Selfish as we poor miserable
Mortals can- be, and shut them out from all Concern
for Mankind, upon the Score of their having no Need
of us. But if He that sitteth in the Heavens wants not
us, we stand in continual Need of Him; and, surely,
next to the Survey of the immense Treasures of his
own
THE SPECTATOR 113
own Mind, the most exalted Pleasure He receives is No. 588.
from beholding Millions of Creatures, lately drown out Wednes'
of the Gulph of Non/existence, rejoycing in the various Sayg‘ ‘
Degrees of Being and Happiness imparted to them. And 17?},
as this is the true, the glorious Character of the Deity,
so in forming a reasonable Creature He would not, if
possible, suffer his Image to pass out of his Hands
unadorned with a Resemblance of Himself in this most
lovely Part of his Nature. For what Complacency could
a Mind, whose Love is as unbounded as his Knowledge,
have in a Work so unlike Himself? a Creature that
should be capable of knowing and conversi with a
vast Circle of Objects, and love none but imself?
What Proportion would there be between the Head and
the Heart of such a Creature, its Affections, and its
Understanding? Or could a Society of such Creatures,
with no other Bottom but Self/Love on which to maintain
a Commerce, ever flourish? Reason, 'tis certain, would
oblige every Man to pursue the general Happiness, as
the Means to procure and establish his own; and yet
if, besides this Consideration, there were not a natural
Instinct, prompting Men to desire the Welfare and
Satisfaction of others, SelfaLove, in Defiance of the
Admonitions of Reason, would quickly run all Things
into a State of War and Confusion. As nearly interested
as the Soul is in the Fate of the Body, our provident
Creator saw it necessary, by the constant Returns of
Hunger and Thirst, those importunate Appetites, to put
it in Mind of its Charge; knowing, that if we should
eat and drink no oftener than cold abstracted Speculation
should put us upon these Exercises, and then leave it
to Reason to prescribe the Quantity, we should soon
refine our selves out of this bodily Life. And, indeed,
’tis obvious to remark, that we follow nothing heartily,
unless carried to it by Inclinations which anticipate our
Reason, and, like a Biass, draw the Mind stro ly towards
it. In order, therefore, to establish a perpetual ntercourse
of Benefits amongst Mankind, their Maker would not fail
to give them this generous Prepossession of Benevolence,
if, as I have said, it were possible. And from whence
can we go about to argue its Impossibility? Is it incom
sistent
114 THE SPECTATOR
. 588.
ednesw
pt. I,
sistent with Seleove? Are their Motions contrary?
No more than the diurnal Rotation of the Earth is
opposed to its Annual; or its Motion round its own a
Center, which may be improved as an Illustration of
Self/Love, to that which whirls it about the common
Center of the World, answering to universal Benevo/
lence. Is the Force of Self/Love abated, or its Interest
prejudiced by Benevolence? So far from it, that Benevo/
_ lence, though a distinct Principle, is extreame serviceable
to SelfaLove, and then doth most Service when 'tis least
designed.
But to descend from Reason to Matter of Fact; the
Pity which arises on sight of Persons in Distress, and the
Satisfaction of Mind which is the Consequence of hav/
ing removed them into a happier State, are instead of
a thousand Arguments to prove such a thing as a dis!
interested Benevolence. Did Pity proceed from a Re/
flection we make upon our Liableness to the same ill
Accidents we see befall others, it were nothing to the
present Purpose; but this is assignin an artifical Cause
of a natural Passion, and can by no eans be admitted
as a tolerable Account of it, because Children, and
Persons most Thoughtless about their own Condition,
and incapable of entering into the Prospects of Futurity,
feel the most violent Touches of Compassion. And then
as to that charming Delight which immediately follows
the giving Joy to another, or relieving his Sorrow, and
is, when the Objects are numerous, and the Kindness
of Importance, really inexpressible, what can this be
owing to but Consciousness of a Man’s having done
something Praise / worth , and expressive of a great
Soul? Whereas, if in all is he only Sacrificed to Vanity
and Self/Love, as there would be nothing brave in
Actions that make the most shining Appearance, so
Nature would not have rewarded them with this divine
Pleasure; nor could the Commendations, which a Person
receives for Benefits done upon selfish Views, be at all
more Satisfactor ,than when he is applauded for what
he doth without esign; because in both Cases the Ends
of SelfaLove are equally answered. The Conscience of

- approving ones self a Benefactor to Mankind is the noblest
Recompence
THE SPECTATOR 115
Recompence for being so; doubtless it is, and the most No. 58%
interested cannot propose any thing so much to their Wedne
own Advantage, notwithstanding which, the Inclination gay; 1
is nevertheless unselfish. The Pleasure which attends If?!" '
the Gratification of our Hunger and Thirst, is not the
Cause of these Appetites; they are previous to any such
Prospect; and so likewise is the Desire of doing Good;
with this Difference, that being seated in the Intellectual
Part, this last, though antecedent to Reason, may yet be
improved and regulated by it, and, I will add, is no other/
wise a Virtue than as it is so. Thus haveI contended for
the Dignity of that Nature I have the Honour to partake
of, and, after all the Evidence produced, think I have a
Right to conclude, against the Motto of this Paper, that
there is such a thing as Generosity in the World.
Though if I were under a Mistake in this I should say,
as Cicero in Relation to the Immortality of the Soul, I
willingly err, and should believe it very much for the
Interest of Mankind to lye under the same Delusion.
For the contrary Notion naturally tends to dispirit the
Mind, and sinks it into a Meanness fatal to the God/like
Zeal of doing good. As on the other hand, it teaches
People to be Ungrateful, by possessing them with a
Perswasion concerning their Benefactors, that the have
no Regard to them in the Benefits they bestow. ow he
that banishes Gratitude from among Men, by so doing
stops up the Stream of Beneficence. For though in con)
ferring Kindnesses, a truly generous Man doth not aim
at a Return, yet he looks to the Qualities of the Person
obliged, and as nothing renders a Person more unworthy
of a Benefit, than his being without all Resentment of
gi he will not be extreamly forward to oblige Such a
an.

Friday
116
THE SPECTATQR‘
. 589,
No, 589,
Friday, September 3,
Persequitur sceIus ilIe suum I Iabefactaque tandem
Ictibus innumeris adductaque funibus arbor
Corruit ,——-Ovid,
‘Sir,
I AM so great an Admirer of Trees, that the Spot of
Ground I have chosen to build a small Seat upon, in
the Country, is almost in the midst of a large Wood, I
was obliged, much against my Will, to cut down several
Trees, that I might have any such thing as a Walk in my
Gardens; but then I have taken Care to leave the Space,
between every Walk, as much a Wood as I found it, The
Moment you turn either to the Right or Left, you are
in a Forest, where Nature presents you with a much
more beautiful Scene than could have been raised by Art.
Instead of Tulips or Carnations, I can shew vou Cakes
in my Gardens of four hundred Years standing, and a
Knot of Elms that might shelter a Troop of Horse from
the Rain,
It is not without the utmost Indignation, that I observe
several prodigal young Heirs in the Neighbourhood,
felling down the most glorious Monuments of their
Ancestors’ Industry, and ruining, in a Day, the Product
of Ages,
I am mightily pleased with your Discourse upon
Planting, which put me upon looking into my Books
to give you some Account of the V/eneration the
Ancients had for Trees, There is an old Tradition,
that Abraham planted a Cypress, a Pine, and a Cedar,
and that these three incorporated into one Tree, which
was cut down for the building of the Temple of Solomon.
Isidorus, who lived in the Reign of Constantius,
assures us that he saw, even in his Time, that famous
Oak in the Plains of Mambré, under which Abraham
is reported to have dwelt, and adds, that the People looked
upon it with a great Veneration, and preserved it as a
Sacred Tree, '
The Heathens still went farther, and regarded it as
the highest Piece of Sacrilege to iniure certain Trees

which
THE SPECTATOR 117
which they took to be protected by some Deity. The No. 589.
Story of Erisicthon, the Grove at Dodona, and that at 1821158?
Delphi, are all Instances of this Kind.
If we consider the Machine in Virgil, so much blamed
by several Criticks, in this Light, we shall hardly think
it too violent.
fEneas, when he built his Fleet, in order to sail for
Italy, was obliged to cut down the Grove on Mount Ida,
which however he durst not do till he had obtained Leave
from Cybele, to whom it was dedicated. The Goddess
could not but think her self obliged to protect these Ships,
which were made of Consecrated Timber, after a very
extraordinary Manner, and therefore desired jupiter,
that they might not be obnoxious to the Power of Waves
or Winds. ]upiter would not grant this, but promised
her, that as many as came safe to Italy should be trans/
formed into Goddesses of the Sea; which the Poet tells
us was accordingly executed.
And now at length the number'd Hours were come,
Prefix’d by Fate’s irrevocable Doom,
. When the great Mother of the Gods was free
To save her Ships, and finish Iove's Decree.
First, from the Quarter of the Morn, there sprung
A Light that sign’d the Heav’ns, and shot along:
Then from a Cloud, Iring'd round with Golden Fh'es,
Were Timbrels heard, and Berecynthian Quires :
And last a Voice, with more than Mortal Sounds,
Both Hosts in Arms oppos'd with equal Horror wounds.
0 Trojan Race, your needless Aid Iorbear;
And know my Ships are my peculiar Care,
IVith greater Ease the bold Rutulian may,
With hissing Brands, attempt to burn the Sea,
Than singe my sacred Pines. But you my Charge,
Loos’d from your crooked Anchors launch at large,
‘ Exalted each a Nymph : Forsake the Sand,
And swim the Seas, at Cybele's Command.
No sooner had the Goddess ceas'd to speak,
When lo, th' obedient Ships their Haulsers break;
And, strange to tell, like Dolphins in the Main,
They plunge their Prows, and dive, and spring again t
As many beauteous Maids the Billows sweep,
As rode before tall Vessels on the Deep.
‘ Dryden's Virg.
The common Opinion concerning the Nymphs, whom
the Ancients called Hamadryads, is more to the Honour
of
ept. ,
1714. '

118 THE SPECTATOR

of Trees than any thing yet mentioned. It was thought
the Fate of these Nymphs had so near a Dependance on
some Trees, more especially Oaks, that they lived and
died together. For this Reason, they were extreamly
grateful to such Persons who preserved those Trees
with which their Being subsisted. Apollonius tells us
a very remarkable Story to this Purpose, with which I
shall conclude my Letter.
A certain Man, called Rhaecus, observing an old Oak
ready to fall, and being moved with a sort of Compassion
towards the Tree, ordered his Servants to pour in fresh '
Earth at the Roots of, and set it upright. The Hama/
dryad, or Nymph, who must necessarily have perished
with the Tree, appeared to him the next Day, and after
having returned him her Thanks, told him, she was
ready to grant whatever he should ask. As she was
extreamly Beautiful, Rhaecus desired he might be en»
tertained as her Lover. The Hamadryad, not much
displeased with the Request, promised to give him a
Meeting, but commanded him for some Days to abstain
from the Embraces of all other Women, adding, that she
would send a Bee to him, to let him know when he
was to be happy. Rhaecus was, it seems, too much
addicted to Gaming, and happened to be in a Run of ill
Luck when the faithful Bee came buzzing about him;
so that instead of minding his kind Invitation, he had
like to have killed him for his Pains. The Hamadryad
was so provoked at her own Disappointment, and the ill
Usage of her Messenger, that she deprived Rhaecus of
the Use of his Limbs. However, says the Story, he was
not so much a Cripple, but he made a Shift to cut
down the Tree, and consequently to fell his Mistress.’
Monday
THE SPECTATOR 119
NO! ‘ NO. [ADDISONJ Monday, September 6. 182°???”
-—-—-Assiduolabuntur tem ora motu 17181: '
Non secus ac Humen. eque enizn consistere f10men,
Nec Ievz's hora potest: sed, ut unda impellitur unda,
Urgeturque prior venienti, urgetque priorem,
Tempora sic filgiunt pariter, pariterque sequuntur;
Et nova sunt semper. Nam quod fuit ante, relictum est;
Fx'tque quod baud fuerat: momentaque cuncta novantur.
‘ ‘__Ovv Met!
The following Discourse comes from the same Hand
with the Essays upon Infinitude.
E consider infinite Space as an Expansion without
a Circumference: We consider Eternity, or inn
finite Duration, as a Line that has neither a Beginning
nor an End. In our Speculations of infinite Space, we
consider that particular Place in which we exist, as a
kind of Center to the whole Expansion. In our Specula/
tions of Eternity, we consider the Time which is present
to us as the Middle, which divides the whole Line into
two equal Parts. For this Reason, many witty Authors
compare the present Time to an Isthmus or narrow
Neck of Land, that rises in the midst of an Ocean, im/
measurably diffused on either Side of it.
Philosophy, and indeed common Sense, naturally throws
Eternity under two Divisions; which we may call in Engn
fish, that Eternity which is past, and that Eternity which
is to come. The learned Terms of fEternz’tas a Parte
ante, and fEterni'tas a Parte post, may be more amusing
to the Reader, but can have no other Idea affixed to them
than what is conveyed to us by those Words, an' Eternity
that is past, and an Eternity that is to come. Each of these
Eternities is bounded at the one Extream; or, in other
Words, the former has an End, and the latter a Beginning.
Let us first of all consider that Eternity which is past,
reserving that which is to come for the Subject of another
Paper. The Nature of this Eternity is utterly incom
ceivable by the Mind of Man: Our Reason demonstrates
to us that it has been, but at the same Time can frame
no Idea of it, but what is big with Absurdity and Com
tradiction. We can have no other Conception of any
Duration
120 - THE SPECTATOR;
Duration which is past, than that all of it was once
present ;_ and whatever was once present, is at some.

' certain Distance from us; and whatever is at any certain
» Distance from us, be the Distance never so remote,
cannot be Eternity. The very Notion of any Duration's
being past, implies that it was once present; for the Idea
of being once present, is actually included in the Idea of
its being past. This therefore a Depth not to be
sounded by Human Understanding. ‘ We are sure that
there has been an Eternity, and yet contradict our selves
when we measure this Eternity by any Notion which
we can frame of it.
If we go to the Bottom of this Matter, we shall find,
that the Difficulties we meet with in our Conceptions
of Eternity proceed from this single Reason, That ‘ we
can have no other Idea of any kind of Duration, than
that b which we our selves, and all other created Beings,
do exist; which is, a successive Duration, made: up of
past, present, and to come. There is nothing which
exists after this Manner, all the Parts of whose Existence
Were not once actually present, and consequently may
be reached by a certain Number of Years applied to it.
We may ascend as high as we please, and employ our
Being to that Eternity which is to come, in adding
Millions of Years to Millions of Years, and we can
never come up to any Fountaimhead of Duration, to
any Beginning in Eternity: But at the same time we
are sure, that whateverxwas once present does lye with.
in the reach of Numbers, tho' perhaps we can never be
able to put enough of 'em together for that Purpose.
We may. as well say, that any thing may be actually
present in any Part of infinite Space, which does not
lye at a certain Distance from us, as that any Part of
infinite Duration was once actually present, and does
not also lye at some determined Distance from us. The
Distance in both Cases may be immeasurable and in.
definite as to our Faculties, but our Reason tells us that
it cannot be so in it self. Here therefore is that Difficulty
which human Understanding is not capable of sur.
mounting. We are sure that something must have
existed from Eternity, and are at the same Time unable
., m
THE SPECTATOR - 121
to conceive, that any thing which exists, according to our No. 59<
Notion of Existence, can have existed from Eternity. Msmia‘.
It is hard for a Reader, who has not rolled this Thought 187?? 6'
in his own Mind, to follow in such an abstracted Specular '
tion; but I have been the longer on it, because I think it
is a demonstrative Argument of the Being and Eternity
of a God: And tho' there are many other Demonstrations
which lead us to this great Truth, I do not think we
ought to lay aside any Proofs in this Matter which the
Light of Reason has suggested to us, especially when it
is such a one as has been urged by Men famous for their
Penetration and Force of Understanding, and which ap/
pears altogether conclusive to those who will be at the
Pains to examine it. '
Having thus considered that Eternity which is past,
according to the best Idea we can frame of it, I shall now
draw up those several Articles on this Subject which are
dictated to us by the Light of Reason, and which may be
looked upon as the Creed of a Philosopher in this great Point.
First, It is certain that no Being could have made it
self; for if so, it must have acted before it was, which is a
Contradiction. . .
Secondly. That therefore some Being must have ex/
isted from all Eternity.
Thirdly, That whatever exists after the manner of
created Beings, or according to any Notions which we
have .of Existence, could not have existed from Eternity.
Fourthly, That this eternal Being must therefore be the
great Author of Nature, the Antient of Days, who, being
at infinite Distance in his Perfections from all finite and
created Beings, exists in a quite different manner from
them, and in aamanner of which they can have no Idea.
I know that several of the School/men, who would not
be thought ignorant of any thing, have pretended to ex;
plain the Manner of God’s Existence, by telling us, That
he comprehends infinite Duration in every Moment;
That Eternity is with him a Punctum stans, a fixed Point;
or, which is as good Sense, an Infinite Instant; That
nothing with Reference to his Existence is either past or
to come: To which the ingenious Mr. Cowley alludes in

his Description of Heaven,
Nothing
122 THE SPECTATOR
. 590, Nothing is there to come, and nothing past,
onday, But an Eternal NOW does always last.
15;: 6’ For my own Part, I look upon these Propositions as
Words that have no Ideas annexed to them; and think
Men had better own their Ignorance, than advance
Doctrines by which they mean nothing, and which
indeed are self/contradictory. We cannot be too modest
in our Disquisitions, when we meditate on him who is
environed with so much Glory and Perfection, who is the
Source of Being, the Fountain of all that Existence which
we and his whole Creation derive from him. Let us
therefore with the utmost Humility acknowledge, that as
some Being must necessarily have existed from Eternity,
so this Being does exist after an incomprehensible man/
ner, since it is impossible for a Being to have existed ft'om
Eternity after our Manner or Notions of Existence. Rea
velation confirms these natural Dictates of Reason in the
Accounts which it gives us of the Divine Existence, where
it tells us, that he is the same Yesterday, to Day, and for
Ever; that he is the Alpha and Omega, the Beginning and
the Ending; that a thousand Years are with him as one
Day, and one Day as a thousand Years; by which, and the
like Expressions, we are taught, that his Existence, with Re/
lation to Time or Duration, is infinitely different from the
Existence of any of his Creatures, and consequently that it is
impossible for us to frame any adequate Conceptions of it.
In the first Revelation which he makes of his own
. Being, he intitles himself, I am that I am; and when
Moses desires to know what Name he shall give him in
his Embassady to Pharaoh, he bids him say that, I am
hath sent you. Our great Creator, by this Revelation of
himself, does in a manner exclude every thing else from
a real Existence, and distinguishes himself from his
Creatures, as the only Being which truly and really
exists. The ancient Platonick Notion, which was drawn
from Speculations of Eternity, wonderfully agrees with
this Revelation which God has made of himself. There
is nothing, say they, which in Reality exists, whose EX/
istence, as we call it, is pieced up of past, present, and to
come. Such a flitting and successive Existence is rather a
Shadow of Existence, and something which is like it, than
Existence
THE . SPECTATOR 123
Existence it self. He only properly exists whose Exist/ No. 590.
ence is intirely present; that is, in other Words, who MO'fldaY'
exists in the most perfect manner, and in such a manner 187313,“ 6'
as we have no Idea of. '
I shall conclude this Speculation with one useful Irv
ference. How can we sufficiently prostrate our selves
and fall down before our Maker, when we consider
that ineffable Goodness and Wisdom which contrived
this Existence for finite Natures? What must be the
Overflowings of that good Will, which prompted our
Creator to adapt Existence to Beings, in whom it is not
necessary? Especially when we consider, that he him,
self was before in the compleat Possession of Existence
and of Happiness, and in full Enjoyment of Eternity.
What Man can think of himself as called out and separ/
ated from nothing, of his .being made a conscious, a
reasonable and a happy Creature, in short, of being taken
in as a Sharer of Existence and a kind of Partner in
Eternity, without being swallowed up in Wonder, in
Praise, in Adoration! It is indeed a Thought too big
for the Mind of Man, and rather to be entertained in the
Secrecy of Devotion and in the Silence of the Soul, than
to be expressed by Words. The Supreme Being has not
given us Powers or Faculties sufficient to extol and
magnifie such unutterable Goodness.
It is however some Comfort to us, that we shall be
always doing what we shall be never able to do, and that
a Work which cannot be finished, will however be the
Work of an Eternity.
N°- 559" Wednesday, September a.
Tenerorum Iusor amorumr-Ovid.
HAVE iust received a Letter from a Gentleman, who
. tells me he has observed with no small Concern,
that my'Papers have of late been very barren in relation
to Love; a Subject which, when agreeably handled, can
scarce fail of being well received by both Sexes.
If my Invention therefore should be almost exhausted
on this Head, he offers to serve under me in the Quality
of a Love Casuist; for which Place he conceives himself
IV. 2 E IQ

124 THE SPECTATOR
o. 591.
ednes/
ay ‘ -
81
I
to be thoroughly qualified, having made this, Passion his
principal Study, and observed it in all its different Shapes

, and Appearances, from the Fifteenth to the Forty Fifth
Year of his Age.
He assures me with an Air of Confidence, which I
hope proceeds from his real Abilities, that he does not
doubt of giving Judgment to the Satisfaction of the Parties
concerned, on the most nice and intricate Cases which
can happen in an Amour; as
How great the Contraction of the Fingers must be
before it amounts to Squeeze by the Hand.
What can be properly termed an absolute Denial from
a Maid, and what from a Widow.
What Advances a Lover may presume to make, after
having received a Patt upon his Shoulder from his
Mistress's Fan. ‘
Whether a Lady, at the first Interview, may allow an
humble Servant to kiss her Hand.
How far it may be permitted to caress the Maid, in
order to succeed with the Mistress.
What Constructions a Man may put upon a Smile,
and in what Cases a Frown goes for nothing.
On what Occasion a sheepish Look may do Service, do.
As a farther Proof of his Skill, he has also sent me
several Maxims in Love, which he assures me are the
Result of a long and profound Reflection, some of which I i
think my self obliged to communicate to the Publick, not
remembring to have seen them before in any Author.
‘There are more Calamities in the World arising from
Love than from Hatred.
Love is the Daughter of Idleness, but the Mother of
Disquietude.
Men of grave Natures (says Sir Francis Bacon) are
the most constant; for the same Reason Men should be
more constant than Women.
The Gay Part of Mankind is most amorous, the Seriots
most. loving.
A Coquet often loses her Reputation, whilst she pre/
serves her Virtue.
A Prude often preserves her Reputation when she
has lost her Virtue.

Love
THE SPECTATOR 125.
Love refines a Man’s Behaviour, but makes a Woman's No. 591.,
ridiculous. _ _ Wednssl
Love is generally accompanied with Good/will in the gall 3'
the Young, Interest in the, Middle/aged, and a Passion "
too gross to name in the Old.
The Endeavours to revive a decaying Passion generally
extinguish the Remains of it. ,
A Woman who from being a Slattern becomes over;
neat, or from" being over/neat becomes a Slattern, is most
certainly in Love.’ -
I shall make use of this Gentleman's Skill as I see
Occasion; and since I am got upon the Subject of
Love, shall conclude this Paper with a Copy of Verses
which were lately sent me by an unknown . Hand, as
I look upon them to be above the ordinary Run 0
Sonneteers. -
The Author tells me they were written in one of
his despairing Fits; and I find entertains some Hope
that his Mistress may pity such a Passion as he has dea
scribed, before she knows that she is herself Corinna.
Conceal, fond Man, conceal the mighty Smart,
. Nor tell Corinna she has fir’d thy Heart.
.In vain would'st thou complain, in vain pretend
To ask a pity which she must not lend.
She's too much thy Superior to comply,
And too too fair to let thy Passion die.
Languish in Secret, and with dumb surprize
Drink the Resistless glances of her eyes.
At awful Distance entertain thy Grief.
Be still in Pain, but never ask Relief;
Ne'er tempt her scorn of thy consuming State;
Be any way undone, but fly her Hate.
Thou must submit to see thy Charmer bless
Some happier Youth, that shall admire her less ;'
Who in that lovely Form, that Heav’nly Mind,
Shall miss ten thousand Beauties thou could'st find ;
Who with low Fancy shall approachv thy Charms,
While half enjoy’d she sinks into his Arms.
She knows not, must not know, thy nobler Fire,
Whom she, and .whom the Muses do inspire ;_ H__
1 er
126 THE SPECTATOR
Dr 5 91!
ednesv
av,
ept. 8'
Her Image only shall thy Breast employ,
And fill thy captiv’d Soul with Shades ofjoy.
Direct thy Dreams by Night, thy Thoughts by Day;
And never, never, from thy Bosom stray.
NO: ‘
Friday, September 10.
—-—Studium sine divite venar-Hor'
[ADDISON]
I LOOK upon the Playahouse as a World within it self.
They have lately furnished the middle Region of it
with a new Sett of Meteors, in order to give the Sublime
to many modern Tragedies. I was there last Winter at
the first Rehearsal of the new Thunder, which is much
more deep and sonorous than any hitherto made use of.
They have a Salmoneus behind the Scenes, who plays
it off with great Success. Their Lightnings are made to
flash more briskly than heretofore; their Clouds are also
better furbelow'd, and more voluminous; not to mention a
violent Storm locked up in a great Chest that is designed
for the Tempest. They are also provided with above a
Dozen Showers of Snow, which, as I am informed, are
the Plays of many unsuccessful Poets artificially cut and
shreaded for that Use. Mr. Rimer’s Edgar is to. fall in
Snow at the next acting of King Lear, in order to
heighten, or rather to alleviate, the Distress of that uni
fortunate Prince; and to serve by way of Decoration to
a Piece which that great Critick has written against.
I do not indeed wonder that the Actors should be such
professed Enemies to those among our Nation who are
commonly known by the Name of Criticks, since it is
a Rule among these Gentlemen to fall upon a Play, not
because it is ill written, but because it takes. Several of
them lay it down as a Maxim, That whatever Dramatick
Performance has a long Run, must of Necessity be good
for nothing; as though the first Precept in Poetry were
not to please, Whether this Rule holds good or not, I
shall leave to the Determination of those who are better
judges than my self: If it does, I am sure it tends very
much to the Honour of those Gentlemen who have
established it; few of their Pieces having been disgracg'd
Y
THE SPECTATOR 127
by a Run of three Days, and most of them being so Nq. 592.
exquisitely written, that the Town would never give Frldav.
them more than one Night's Hearing. 10'
I have a great Esteem for a true Critick, such as .‘
Aristotle and Longinus among the Greelw, Horace and
Ouintilian among the Romans, Boileau and Dacier
among the French. But it is our Misfortune, that some
who set up for professed Criticks among us are so
stupid, that they do not know how to put ten Words
together with Elegance or common Propriety, and
withal so illiterate, that they have no Taste of the
learned Languages, and therefore criticise upon old
Authors only at second Hand: They judge of them by
what others have written, and not by any Notions they
have of the Authors themselves. The Words Unity,
Action, Sentiment, and Diction, pronounced with an
Air of Authority, give them a Figure among unlearned
Readers, who are apt to believe they are very deep,
because they are unintelligible. The ancient Criticks
are full of the Praises of their Contemporaries; they
discover Beauties which escaped the Observation of
the Vulgar, and very often find out Reasons for palliating
and excusing such little Slips and Oversights as were
committed in the Writings of eminent Authors. On the
contrary, most of the Smatterers in Criticism who appear
among us, make it their Business to vilifie and depreciate
every new Production that gains Applause, to descry
imaginary Blemishes, and to prove by far/fetched Argu/
ments, that what pass for Beauties in any celebrated Piece
are Faults and Errors. In short, the Writings of these
\Criticks compared with those of the Ancients, are like
the Works of the Sophists compared with those of the old
Philosophers. ‘1»,
Envy and Cavil are the natural Fruits of Laziness and j
Ignorance; which was probably the Reason, that in the
Heathen Mythology Mom us is said to be the Son of Nox i
and Somnus, of Darkness and Sleep. Idle Men, who have i
not been at the Pains to accomplish or distinguish them.
selves, are very apt to detract from others; as ignorant
Men are very subject to decry those Beauties in a cele. 5'
brated Work which they have not Eyes to discover.
Many“,
128 THE SPECTATOR
s. '592.’
riday, ‘
812. .
Man of our Sons of Mom us, who dignify' themselves
by e Name of Criticks, are the genuine Descendants
of these two illustrious Ancestors. They are often led
into' those numerous Absurdities, in which they daily
instruct the People, by not considering that, 1st, There
is sometimes a greater Judgment shewn in deviating from
the Rules of Art, than in adhering to them; and, 2dly,
That there is more Beauty in the Works of a great
Genius who is ignorant of all the Rules of Art, than in
the Works of a little Genius,“who not only knows, but
scrupulously observes them.
First, We may often take Notice of Men -who are
perfectly acquainted with all the Rules of good Writing,
and notwithstanding chuse to depart from them on extra»
ordinary Occasions. I could give Instances out of all
the Tragick Writers of Antiquity who have shewn their
Judgment in this Particular, and purposely receded from
an established Rule of the Drama, when it has'made way
for a much higher Beauty than the Observation of such
a Rule would have been. Those who have surveyed the
noblest Pieces of Architecture and Statuary both ancient
and modern, know very well that there are frequent
Deviations from Art in the Works of the greatest Masters,
which have produced a much nobler Effect than a more
accurate and exact way of Proceeding could have done.
This often arises from what the Italians call the Gusto
Grande in these Arts, which is what we call the Sublime
in Writing.
In the next Place, our Criticks do not seem sensible
that there is more Beauty in the Works of a great Genius
who is ignorant of the Rules of Art, than in those of a
little Genius who knows and observes them. It is of
these Men of Genius that Terence speaks, in Opposition
to the little aftificial Cavillers of his Time;
l Quorum aemulari exoptat negligentiam
Potius, quam istorum obscuram diligentiam.
A Critick- 'may, have the same Consolation in the ill
* Successof his Play, as Dr. South tells us a Physician has
at the, Death of a Patient, That he was killed secundum
. arteni. Our inimitable Shakespear is a Stumbling/block

l0 t - hole Tribe .of Wk, _wh° weak]
THE SPECTATOR 129
not rather read one of his Plays, where there is not a No. 592.
single Rule of the Stage observed, than any Production ridav.
of a modern Critick, where there is not one of them 76:10'
violated? Shakespear was indeed born with all the '
Seeds of Poetry, and may be compared to the Stone in
Pyrrh us's Ring, which, as Pliny tells us, had the Figure
of Apollo and the Nine Muses in the Veins of it, pro/
duced by the spontaneous Hand of N ture, without any
Hsififllm A“ ' ’
No. 593.
[ADDISONJ Monday, September 13.
Ouale per incertam lunam sub luce maligna
Est iter in silvis :— r—Virg.
Y dreaming Correspondent, Mr. Shadow, has sent
me a second Letter, with several curious Obser.
vations on Dreams in general, and the Method to render
Sleep improving: An Extract of his Letter will not, I
presume, be disagreeable to my Readers.



‘Since we have so little Time to spare, that none of it
may be lost, I see no Reason why we should neglect to
examine those imaginary Scenes we are presented with
in Sleep, only because they have less Reality in them
than our waking Meditations. A Traveller would bring
his Judgment in Question who should despise the Direc/
tions of his Map for want of real Roads in it, because
here stands a Dott instead of a Town, or a Cypher instead
of a City, and it must be a long Day’s Journey to travel
thro' two or three Inches. Fancy in Dreams gives us
much such another Landskip of Life as that does of
Countries, and tho' its Appearances may seem strangely
jumbled together, we may often observe such Traces and
Footsteps of noble Thoughts, as, if carefully pursued,
might lead us into a proper Path of Action. There is so
much Rapture and Extasie in our fancied Bliss, and some»
thing so dismal and shocking in our fancied Misery,
that tho' the Inactivity of the Body has given Occasion
for calling Sleep the Image of Death, the Briskness of
Fancy affords us a strong Intimation of something within
us that can never die.
I
130 THE SPECTATOR
Q [onday,
ept. 13,
’14.

I have wondered that Alexander the Great, who came
into the World sufficiently dreamt of by his Parents, and
had himself a tolerable Knack at dreaming, should often
say, that Sleep was one thing which made him sensible
he was Mortal. I who have not such Fields of Action in
the Daytime to divert my Attention from this Matter,
plainly perceive, that in those Operations of the Mind,
while the Body is at rest, there is a certain Vastness of
Conception very suitable to the Capacity, and demonstra/
tive of the Force, of that Divine Part in our Composition
which will last for ever. Neither do I much doubt but
had we a true Account of the Wonders the Hero last
mentioned performed in his Sleep, his conquering this
little Globe would hardly be worth mentioning. I may
affirm, without Vanity, that when I compare several
Actions in Ouintus Curtius with some others in my
own, Noctuary, I appear the greater Hero of the
two.
I shall close this Subiect with observing, that while we
are awake, we are at Liberty to fix our Thoughts on what
we please, but in Sleep we have not the Command of
them. The Ideas which strike the Fancy, arise in us
without our Choice, either from the Occurrences of the
Day past, the Temper we lye down in, or it may be the
Direction of some superior Being.
It is certain the Imagination may be so differently
affected in Sleep, that our Actions of the Day might be
either rewarded or punished with a little Age of Happi/
ness or Misery. St. Austin was of Opinion, that if in
Paradise there was the same Vicissitude of sleeping and
waking as in the present World, the Dreams of its Inhabi/
tants would be very happy.
And so far at present our Dreams are in our Power,
that they are generally conformable to our waking
Thoughts, so that it is not impossible to convey our
selves to a Consort of Musick, the Conversation of distant
Friends, or any other Entertainment which has been
before lodged in the Mind.
My Readers, by applying these Hints, will find the
Necessity of making a good Day of it, if they heartily
wish themselves a good Night. I
THE SPECTATOR 131
l
I have often considered Marcia's Prayer, and Lucius’s
Account of Ca to, in this Light.
Marc. 0 ye immortal Powers, that guard the just,
Watch round his Couch, and soften his Repose,
Banish his Sorrows, and becalm his Soul
With easie Dreams; remember all his Virtues!
And show Mankind that Goodness is your Care.~
Luc. Sweet are the Slumbers of the virtuous Man I
O Marcia, I have seen thy Godlike Father:
Some Pow'r invisible supports his Soul,
And bears it up in all its wanted Greatness.
A kind refreshing Sleep is fallen upon him I
I saw him stretcht at Ease, his Fancy lost
' In pleasing Dreams ; as I drew near his Couch,
He smil'd and cry’d, Casar thou canst not hurt me.
Mr. Shadow acquaints me in a Postcript, that he has
no manner of Title to the Vision which succeeded his
first Letter; but adds, that as the Gentleman who wrote
it Dreams very sensibly, he shall be glad to meet him
some Night or other, under the great Elm Tree by which
Virgil has given us a fine Metaphorical Image of Sleep,
in order to turn over a few of the Leaves together, and
oblige the Publick with an Account of the Dreams that lye
under them.
NO: Wednesday, September 15.
Absentem qui rodit amicum,
Qui non defendit, alio culpante; solutos
Qui captat risus hominum, famamque dicacis,
Fingere qui non visa potest; commissa tacere
Oui nequit; hic niger est, hunc tu, Romane, cavetor—Hor.
WERE all the Vexations of Life put together, we
should find that a great Part of them proceed
from those Calumnies and Reproaches which we spread
abroad concerning one another.
There is scarce a Man living who is not, in some
Degree, guilty of this Offence; tho', at the same time,
however we treat one another, it must be confessed, that
we all consent in speaking ill of the Persons who are
notorious for this Practice. It generally takes its Rise
either from an Ill/will to Mankind, a private Inclination
t
No. 593
Monday
8 .13,
lift.
150
132 THE SPECTATOR
. 594.
dnew
PI: 15;
4..
to make ourselves esteemed, an Ostentation of Wit, a
Vanity of being thought in the Secrets of the World, or
from a Desire of gratifying any of these Dispositions of
Mind in those Persons with whom we converse.
The Publisher of Scandal is more or less odious to
Mankind, and criminal in himself, as he is influenced by
any one or more of the foregoing Motives. But what!
ever may be the Occasion of spreading these false Reports,
he ought to consider, that the Effect of them is equally ‘
prejudicial and pernicious to the Person at whom they
are aimed. The Injury is the same, tho' the Principle
from whence it proceeds may be different.
As every one looks upon himself with too much
Indulgence, when he passes a Judgment on his own
Thoughts or Actions, and as very few would be thought
guilty of this abominable Proceeding, which is so uni.
versally practised, and, at the same time, so universally
blamed, I shall lay down three Rules by which I would
have a Man examine and search into his own Heart,
before he stands acquitted to himself of that evil Dis;
position of Mind which I am here mentioning.
First of all, Let him consider whether he does not take
Delight in hearing the Faults of others.
Secondly, Whether he is not too apt to believe such
little blackning Accounts, and more inclined to be credu/
lous on the uncharitable than on the good/natured Side.
Thirdly, Whether he is not ready to spread and
propagate such Reports as tend to the Disreputation of
another. ‘ .
These are the several Steps by which this Vice
proceeds, and grows up into Slander and Defamation.
In the first Place, A Man who takes delight in hearing
the Faults of others, shews sufficiently that he has a true
Relish of Scandal, and consequently the Seeds of this Vice
within him. If his Mind is gratified with hearing the
Reproaches which are cast on others, he will find the
same Pleasure in relating them, and be the more apt to
do it, as he will naturally imagine every one he converses
with is delighted in the same manner with himself. ,A
Man should endeavour therefore to wear out of his Mind
this criminal Curiosity, which is perpetually heighteneg
an

THE SPECTATOR ' 133
and inflamed by listening to such Stories as tend to the No. 59
Disreputation of others. Wedfle
In the second Place, A Man should consult his own gay; ,5
Heart, whether he be not apt to believe such little 171%: '
blackening Accounts; and more inclined to be credulous
on the uncharitable, than on the good/natured Side.
Such a Credulity is very vicious in it self, and generally
arises from a Man’s Consciousness of his own secret
Corruptions. It is a pretty Saying of . Thales, Falshood is
just as far distant from Truth, as the Bars are from the
Eyes. By which he would intimate, that a Wise Man
should not easily give Credit to the Reports of Actions
which he has not seen. I shall, under this Head, mention
two or three remarkable Rules to be observed by the
Members of the celebrated Abbey de la Trape, as they
are published in a little French Book.
The Fathers are there ordered, never to give an Bar
to any Accounts of base or criminal Actions; to turn
off all such Discourse if possible; but in Case they hear
any thing of this Nature so well attested that they can.
not disbelieve it, they are then to suppose that the
criminal Action may have proceeded from a good
Intention in him who is guilty of it. This is perhaps
carrying Charity to an Extravagance, but it is certainly
much more Laudable, than to suppose, as the Ill/natured
part of the World does, that Indifferent, and even Good
Actions, proceed from bad Principles and wrong
Intentions.
In the third Place, A Man should examine his Heart,
whether he. does not find in it a secret Inclination to
Propagate such Reports, as tend to the Disreputation of
another. '
When the Disease of the Mind, which I have hitherto
been speaking of, arises to this Degree of Malignity, it
discovers its self in its worst Symptom, and is in danger
of becoming incurable. I need not therefore insist upon
the Guilt in this last Particular, which every one cannot
but disapprove, who is not void of Humanity, or even
common Discretion. I shall only add, that whatever
Pleasure any Man may take in spreading Whispers of
this Nature, he will find an infinitely greater Satisfaction
in
134 "THE SPECTATOR
. 594.
dnes/
t. 15,
in conquering the Temptation he is under, by letting the
Secret die within his own Breast.
No. 595.
Friday, September 17. ,
Non ut placidis coeant immitia, non ut
Serpentes avibus geminentur, tigribus agni.——Hor.
IF ordinary Authors would condescend to write as they
think, they would at least be allowed the Praise of
being intelligible. But they really take Pains to be
ridiculous; and, by the studied Ornaments of Stile, per.
fectly disguise the little Sense they aim at. There is a
Grievance of this Sort in the Commonwealth of Letters,
which I have for some time resolved to redress, and
accordinglyI have set this Day apart for Justice. What
I mean is the Mixture of inconsistent Metaphors, which
is a Fault but too often found in learned Writers, but in
all the unlearned without Exception.
In order to set this Matter in a clear Light to every
Reader, I shall, in the first Place observe, that a Metaphor
is a Simile in one Word, which serves to convey the
Thoughts of the Mind under Resemblances and Images
which affect the Senses. There is not any thing in the
World, which may not be compared to several things, "
if considered in several distinct Lights; or, in other
Words, the same thing may be expressed by different
Metaphors. But the Mischief is, that an unskilful Author
shall run these Metaphors so absurdly into one another,
that there shall be no Simile, no agreeable Picture, no
apt Resemblance, but Confusion, Obscurity, and Noise.
Thus I have known a Hero compared to a Thunder.
bolt, a Lion and the Sea; all and each of them proper
Metaphors for Impetuosity, Courage or Force. But by bad
Management it hath so happened, that the Thunder/bolt
hath overflowed its Banks; the Lion hath been darted
through the Skies, and the Billows have rolled out of
the Libyan Desart.
The Absurdity in this Instance is obvious. And yet
every time that clashing Metaphors are put together,
this Fault is committed more or less. It hath already
been said, that Metaphors are Images of things walgfich
ect

THE SPECTATOR 135
affect the Senses. An Image therefore, taken from what No. 595
acts upon the Sight, cannot, without Violence, be applied Friday.
to the Hearing; and so of the rest. It is no less an 1552“ 17'
Impropriety to make any Being in Nature or Art to '
do things in its Metaphorical State, which it could not
do in its Original. I shall illustrate what I have said,
by an Instance which I have read more than once in
Controversial Writers. The heavy Lashes, saith a cele/
brated Author, that have drop’d from your Pen, 8c.
I suppose this Gentleman having frequently heard of
Gall dropping from a Pen, and being lashed in a
Satyr, he was resolved to have them both at any Rate,
and so uttered this compleat Piece of Nonsense. It will
most effectually discover the Absurdity of these monstrous
Unions, if we will suppose these Metaphors or Images
actually painted. Imagine then a Hand holding a Pen,
and several Lashes of Whip/cord falling from it, and you
have the true Representation of this sort of Eloquence.
I believe, by this very Rule, a Reader may be able to
judge of the Union of all Metaphors whatsoever, and
determine which are Homogeneous, and which Heteroa
geneous; or to speak more plainly, which are Consistent,
and which Inconsistent.
There is yet one Evil more which I must take notice
of, and that is the running of Metaphors into tedious
Allegories; which, though an Error on the better Hand,
causes Confusion as much as the other. This becomes
abominable, when the Lustre of one Word leads a Writer
out of his Road, and makes him wander from his Subject
for a Page together. I remember a young Fellow, of
this Turn, who having said by Chance that his Mistress
had a World of Charms, thereupon took Occasion to
consider her as one possessed of Frigid and Torrid Zones,
and pursued her from the one Pole to the other.
I shall conclude this Paper with a Letter written in
that enormous Stile, which I hope my Reader hath by
this time set his Heart against. The Epistle hath here.
tofore received great Applause; but after what hath been
said, let any Man commend it if he dare.
’ Sir

136
THE SPECTATOR
’ Sir, ..
After the many heavy Lashes that have fallen from
your Pen, you may justly expect in return, all the Load
that my Ink can lay upon your Shoulders. You have
Ouartered all the foul Language upon me, that could
be raked out of the Air of Billingsga te, without knowing
who I am, or whether I deserve to be Cuffed and Scarified
at this rate. I tell you once for all, turn your Eyes where
you please, you shall never Smell me out. Do you think
that the Panicks, which you sow about the Parish, will
ever build a Monument to your Glory. No, Sir, you
may Fight these Battles as long as you will, but when
you come to Ballance the Account, you will find that
you have been Fishing in troubled Waters, and that
an Ignis fatuus hath bewildered you, and that indeed
you have built upon a sandy Foundation, and brought
your Hogs to a fair Market.
I am] Sir;
Yours, 8c.’
No. 596.
Monday, September 20.
Molle meum, levibusque cor est violabile telis.—Ovid.
THE Case of my Correspondent who sends me the
following Letter has somewhat in it so very
whimsical, that I know not how to entertain my Readers
better than by laying it before them.
’ Sir,
I am fully convinced that there is not upon Earth a
more impertinent Creature than an importunate Lover:
We are daily complaining of the Severity of our Fate,
to People who are wholly unconcerned in it; and hourly
improving a Passion, which we would perswade the
World is the Torment of our Lives. Notwithstanding
this Reflection, Sir, I cannot forbear acquainting you with
my own Case. You must know then, Sir, that even
from my Childhood, the most prevailing Inclination I
could perceive in my self, was a strong Desire to be in
Favour with the Fair Sex. I am at present in the one
and twentieth Year of my Age, and should have made
' Choice
THE SPECTATOR '137
Choice of a She . Bed/fellow many Years since, had not No. 59
my Father, who has a pretg good Estate of his own Monda
getting, and passes in the orld for a prudent Man, 2
been pleased to lay it down as a Maxim, That nothing '
spoils a young Fellow’s Fortune so much as m ing
early; and that no Man ought to think of Wedlock ’till
six and twenty. Knowing his Sentiments upon this
Head, I thought it in vain to apply my self to Women
of Condition, who expect Settlements; so that all my
Amours have hitherto been with Ladies who had no
Fortunes: But I know not how to give you so good an
E? of me, as by laying before you the History of my
C!
I can very well remember, that at my School!
Mistresses, whenever we broke up, I was always for
ioining my self with the Miss who Lay in, and was
constantly one of the first to make a Party in the Play
of Husband and Wife. This Passion for being well
with the Females still increased as I advanced in Years.
At the Dancing/School I contracted so many Quarrels
by struggling with my Fellow/Scholars for the Partner
I liked best, that upon a Ball Night, before our Mothers
made their Appearance, I was usually up to the Nose in
Blood. My Father, like a discreet Man, soon removed
me from this Stage of Softness to a School of Discipline,
where I learnt Latin and Greek. I underwent several
Severities in this Place, ’till it was thought convenient
to send me to the University; though, to confess the
Truth, I should not have arrived so early at that Seat
of Learning, but from the Discovery of an Intrigue
between me and my Master's House / Keeper; upon
whom I had employed my Rhetorick so effectually, that,
though she was a very elderly Lady, I had almost
brought her to consent to marry me. Upon my Arrival
at Oxford, I found Logick so dry, that, instead of giving
Attention to the Dead, I soon fell to addressing the
Living. My first Amour was with a pretty Girl whom
I shall call Parthenope: Her Mother sold Ale by the
Town Wall. Being often caught there by the Proctor,
I was forced at last, that my Mistress’s Reputation might
receive no Blemish, to confess my Addresses were
honourable
138 THE SPECTATOR
. 596.
nda ,
t.2 ,
4!
honourable. Upon this I was immediately sent home;
but Parthenope soon after marrying a Shoe/maker, I was
again suffered to return. My next Affair was with my
Taylor's Daughter, who deserted me for the sake of a
young Barber. Upon my complaining to one of my
particular Friends on this Misfortune, the cruel Wagg
made a meer Jest of my Calamity, and asked me with
a Smile, where the Needle should turn but to the Pole?
After this Iwas deeply in Love with a Millener, and at
last with my Bed/maker; upon which I was sent away,
or, in the University Phrase, Rusticated for ever.
Upon my coming home, I settled to my Studies so
heartily, and contracted so great a Reservedness by
being kept from the Company I most affected, that my
Father thought he might venture me at the Temple.
Within a Week after my Arrival I began to shine
again, and became enamoured with a mighty pretty
Creature, who had every thing but Mony to recommend
her. Having frequent Opportunities of uttering all the
soft things which an Heart formed for Love could inspire
me with, I soon gained her Consent to treat of Marriage;
but, unfortunately for us all, in the Absence of my
Charmer I usually talked the same Language to her elder
Sister, who is also very pretty. Now, I assure you, Mr.
SPECTATOR, this did not proceed from any real Affection
I had conceived for her; but being a perfect Stranger
to the Conversation of Men, and strongl addicted to
associate with the Women, I knew no other {angua e but
that of Love. I should however be ve much 0 liged
to you, if you could free me from the erplexity I am
at present in. I have sent Word to my old Gentleman
in the Country, that I am desperately in Love with the
younger Sister; and her Father, who knew no better,
poor Man! acquainted him by the same Post, that I had
for some time made my Addresses to the Elder. Upon
this, old Testy sends me up Word, that he has heard
so much of my Exploits, that he intends immediately
to order me to the South Sea. Sir, I have occasionally
talked so much of dying, that I begin to think there is
not so much in it; and if the old Squire persists in his
Design, I do hereby give him Notice that I am providing

mv
THE SPECTATOR 139
my self with proper Instruments for the Destruction No. 59
of despairing Lovers. Let him therefore look to it, and Mmda
consider that by this Obstinacy he may hixnself lose the 4L 2 1
Son of his Strength, the World an hopeful Lawyer, my ' ‘
'M’istress a passionate Lover, and you, Mr. SPECTATOR,
Your constant Admirer,
Middle. Temple,
' Sept. 18. Jeremy Lovemore.’
No. 597. _
[ADDISON.] Wednesday, September 22.
-——-Mens sine pondere ludit,-—Petr.
SINCE I received my Friend Shadow’s Letter, several
of my Correspondents have been pleased to send
me an Account how they have been employed in Sleep,
and what notable Adventures they have been engaged
in during that Moon/shine in the Brain. I shall lay
before my Readers an Abridgment of some few of their
Extravagancies, in hopes that they will in Time accustom
themselves to dream a little more to the Purpose.
One who stiles himself Gladio, complains heavily that
his Fair One charges him with Inconstancy, and does
not use him with half the Kindness which the Sincerity
of his Passion may demand; the said Gladio having by
Valour and Stratagem put to death Tyrants, Inchanters,
Monsters, Knights, 8c. without Number, and expos'd
himself to all manner of Dangers for her Sake and
Safety. He desires in his Postscript to know, whether,
from a constant Success in them, he may not promise
himself to succeed in her Esteem at last.
Another who is very prolix in hisv Narrative writes
me Word, That having sent a Venture beyond Sea, he
took Occasion one Night to fancy himself gone along
with it, and grown on a sudden the richest Man in all
the Indies. Having been there about a Year or two, a
Gust of Wind that forced open his Casement blew him
over to his native Country again; where awaking at
Six a Clock, and the Change of the Air not agreeing
with him, he turned to his Left Side in order to a
second Voyage; but e'er he could get on Shipboard, was
7 IV. 2 F unfortunately
140 THE ~ SPECTATOR
597.
dnese
t. 22,
unfortunately apprehended for stealing a Horse, try'd
and condemned for the Fact, and in a fair way of being
executed, if some Body stepping hastily into his Chamber
had not brought him a Reprieve. This Fellow too wants
Mr. Shadow's Advice, who, I dare say, would>,.:bid him
be content to rise after his first Nap, and learn to“ be
satisfied as soon as Nature is. m
The next is a publick/spirited Gentleman, who tells me,
That on the Second of September at Night the whole
City was on Fire, and would certainly have been reduced
to Ashes again by this Time, if he had not flown over
it with the New River on his Back, and happily extin,
guished the Flames before they had prevailed too far.
He would be informed whether he has not a Right to
petition the Lord Mayor and Aldermen for a Reward.
A Letter dated September the Ninth acquaints me,
That the Writer being resolved to try his Fortune, had
fasted all that Day; and that he might be sure of dream#
ing upon something at Night, procured an handsome
Slice of Bride/Cake, which he placed very conveniently
under his Pillow. In the Morning his Memory happened
to fail him, and he could recollect nothing but an odd
Fancy that he had eaten his Cake; which being found
upon Search reduced to a few Crums, he is resolved to
remember more of his Dreams another Time, believing
from this that there may possibly be somewhat of Truth
in them. '
I have received numerous Complaints from several
delicious Dreamers, desiring me to invent some Method
of silencing those noisy Slaves, whose Occupations lead
them to take their early Rounds about the City in a
Morning, doing a' deal of Mischief, and working strange
Confusion in the Affairs of its Inhabitants. Several
Monarchs have done me the Honour to acquaint me,
how often they have been shook from their respective
Thrones by the rattling of a Coach or the rumblin of
a Wheel barrow. And many private Gentlemen, I Find
have been baul’d of vast Estates by Fellows not worth
Three/pence. A fair Lady was iust upon the Point of
being married to a young, handsome, rich, ingenious
Nobleman, when an impertinent Tinker passinfg
or 1

THE SPECTATOR 141
forbid the Banns; and an hopeful Youth, who had been No. 597.1
newly advanced to great Honour and ' Preferment, was Wedfles
forced by a neighbouring Cobler to resign all for an old g2)"
. pt. 22,
Song. It has been represented to me, that those man/1714'
siderable Rascals do nothing but go about dissolving of
Marriages and spoiling of Fortunes, impoverishing rich
and ruining great People, interrupting Beauties in the
midst of their Conquests, and Generals in the Course of
their Victories. A boisterous Peripatetick hardly goes
through a Street without waking half a dozen Kings and
Princes to open their Shops or clean Shooes, frequently
transforming Scepters into Faring/Shovels, and Proclama.
tions into Bills. I have by me a Letter from a young
Statesman, who in five or six Hours came to be Emperor
of Europe, after which he made war upon the Great
Turk, routed him Horse and Foot, and was crowned
Lord of the Universe in Constantinople; the Conclusion
of all his Successes is, that on the 12th instant, about
Seven in the Morning, his Imperial Majesty was deposed
by a Chimney/Sweeper.
On the other hand, I have E istolary Testimonies of
Gratitude from many miserable People, who owe to this
clamorous Tribe frequent Deliverances from great Mis/
fortunes. A Small . coal / man, by waking of one of
these distressed Gentlemen, saved him from ten Years
Imprisonment. An honest Watchman bidding a loud
Good/morrow to another, freed him from the Malice of
many potent Enemies, and brought all their Designs
against him to nothing. A certain Valetudinarian con.
fesses he has often been cured of a sore Throat b the
Hoarseness of a Carman, and relieved from a it of
the Gout by the sound of old Shooes. A noisy Puppy
that plagued a sober Gentleman all Night long with his
Impertinence, was silenced by a CinderaWench with a
Word speaking.
Instead therefore of suppressing. this Order of Mortals,
I would propose it to my Readers to make the best
Advantage of their Morning Salutations. A famous
Macedonian Prince, for fear of forgetting himself in the
midst of his good Fortune, had a Youth to wait on him
every Morning, and bid him remember that he wlaz a
an
142 THE SPECTATOR

t. 597.
ednes/
pt! 22'
I
Mam A Citizen who is waked by one of these Criers,
may regard him as a kind of Remembrancer, come to
admonish him that it is time to return to the Circum/
stances he has overlooked all the Night/time, to leave
off fancying himself what he is not, and prepare to act
suitably to the Condition he is really placed in.
People may dream on as long as they please, but I shall
take no Notice of any imaginary Adventures that do not
happen while the Sun is on this Side the Horizon. For
which Reason I stifle Fritilla’s Dream at Church last
Sunday, who, while the rest of the Audience were en/
ioying the Benefit of an excellent Discourse, was losing
her Money and Jewels to a Gentleman at Play, till after a
strange Run of ill Luck, she was reduced to pawn three
lovely pretty Children for her last Stake. When she had
thrown them away her Companion went off, discovering
himself by his usual Tokens, a cloven Foot and a strong
Smell of Brimstone; which last proved only a Bottle of
Spirits, which a good old Lady applied to her Nose, to put
her in a Condition of hearing the Preacher’s third Head
concerning Time.
If a Man has no Mind to pass abruptly from his im/
agin’d to his real Circumstances, he may employ himself
a while in that new kind of Observation which my
Oneirocritical Correspondent has directed him to make
of himself, Pursuing the Imagination through all its
Extravagancies, whether in Sleeping or Waking, is no
improper Method of correcting and bringing it to act
in Subordinancy to Reason, so as to be delighted only
with such Objects as will affect it with Pleasure, when
it is never so cool and sedate.
No. 598,
[ADDISONJ Friday, September 24.
[amne igitur Iaudas, quod de sapientibus alter
Ridebat, quoties a Iimx'ne moverat unum
Protuleratque pedem : {Iebat contrarius alter i—Iuv,
ANKIND may be divided into the Merry and the
Serious, who, both of them, make a very good
Figure in the Species, so long as they keep their
respective Humours from degenerating into the neighw
bouring
THE SPECTATOR 143'
bouring Extreme; there being a natural Tendency in No. 598
the one to a melancholy Moroseness, and in the other lea- v
to a fantastick Levity. 4
The merry Part of the World are very amiable, whilst
they diffuse a Chearfulness through Conversation at
proper Seasons and on proper Occasions; but, on the
contrary, a great Grievance to Society, when they infect
every Discourse with insipid Mirth, and turn into Ridicule
such Subjects as are not suited to it. For though Laughter
is looked upon by the Philosophers as the Property of
Reason, the Excess of it has been always considered as
the Mark of Folly.
On the other Side, Seriousness has its Beauty whilst
it is attended with Chearfulness and Humanity, and does
not come in unseasonably to pall the good Humour of
those with whom we converse.
These two Sets of Men, notwithstanding they each of
them shine in their respective Characters, are apt to bear
a natural Aversion and Antipathy to one another.
' What is more usual, than to hear Men of serious
Tempers and austere Morals, enlarging upon the
Vanities and Follies of the young and gay Part of the
Species; whilst they look with a kind of Horror upon
such Pomps and Diversions as are innocent in them/
selvefiq? and only culpable when they draw the Mind too
muc
I could not but smile upon reading a Passage in the
Account which Mr. Baxter gives of his own Life,
wherein he represents it as a great Blessing, that in his
Youth he very narrowly escaped getting a Place at
Court.
It must indeed be confessed that Levity of Temper
takes a Man off his Guard, and opens a Pass to his Soul
for any Temptation that assaults it. It favours all the
Approaches of Vice, and weakens all the Resistance of
Virtue. For which Reason a renowned Statesman in
Queen Elizabeth's Days, after having retired from
Court and publick Business, in order to give himself up
to the Duties of Religion; when any of his old Friends
used to visit him, had still this Word of Advice in his
Mouth, Be serious.
An
144 THE SPECTATOR
. 598.
'da
t.
4.
4.
An eminent Italian Author of this Cast of Mind,
speaking of the great Advantage of a serious and com/
posed Temper, wishes very gravely, that for the Benefit
of Mankind he had Trophonius's Cave in his Possession;
which, says he, would contribute more to the Reforma/
tion of Manners than all the Work/houses and Bride/
wells in Europe.
We have a very particular Description of this Cave in
Pa usanias, who tells us, that it was made in the Form
of a huge Oven, and had many particular Circumstances,
‘ which disposed the Person who was in it to be more
pensive and thoughtful than ordinary; insomuch that
no Man was ever observed to laugh all his Life after,
who had once made his Entry into this Cave. It was
usual in those Times, when any one carried a more
than ordinary Gloominess in his Features, to tell him
tchat he looked like one iust come out of Tropbonius's
ave.
On the other Hand, Writers of a more merry Com.
plexion have been no less severe on the opposite Party;
and have had one Advantage above them, that they have
attack'd them with more Turns of Wit and Humour.
After all, if a Man’s Temper were at his own Disposal,
I think he would not chuse to be of either of these
Parties; since the most perfect Character is that which
is formed out of both of them. A man would neither
chuse to be a Hermit nor a Buffoon: Humane Nature
is not so miserable, as that we should be always melan/
choly; nor so happy, as that we should be always merry.
In a ord, a Man should not live as if there was no
God in the World; nor, at the same time, as if there
were no Men in it.
No. 599.
Monday, September 27.
——-—Ubique
Luctus, ubique pavor—--.——Virg.
'IT has been my Custom, as I grow old, to allow my
self in some little Indulgences which I never took
in my Youth. Among others is that of an After»
noon’s Napp, which I fell into in the Fifty fifth Year;
0
THE SPECTATOR 145
of my Age, and have continued for the three last Years No. 59
past. By this means I enjoy a double Morning, and Monda
rise twice a Day fresh to my Speculations. It happens 137913;“ 2
very luckily for me, that some of my Dreams have '
proved instructive to my Countrymen, so thatI may be
said to sleep, as well as to wake, for the Good of the
Publick. I was yesterday meditating on the Account
with which I have already entertained my Readers con/
cerning the Cave of Trophonius. I was no sooner fallen
into my usual Slumber, but I dreamt that this Cave was
put into my Possession, and that I gave publick Notice
of its Virtue, inviting every one to it, who had a mind
to be a serious Man for the remaining Part of his Life.
Great Multitudes immediately resorted to me. The first
who made the Experiment was a Merry/Andrew, who
was put into my Hands by a neighbouring Justice of
Peace, in order to reclaim from that profligate kind
of Life. Poor Pickle/herring had not taken above one
Turn in it, when he came out of the Cave, like a Hermit
from his Cell, with a penitential Look and a most rueful
Countenance. I then put in a young laughing Pop, and,
watching for his Return asked him, with» a Smile, how
he liked the Place? He replied, Prithee Friend be not
impertinent; and stalked by me as grave as a Judge. A
Citizen then desired me to give free Ingress and Egress
to his Wife, who was dressed in the gayest coloured
Ribbons I had ever seen. She went in with a Flirt of
her Fan and a smirking Countenance, but came out with
the Severity of a Vestal, and throwing from her several
Female Gugaws, told me, with a Sigh, that she resolved
to go into deep Mourning, and to wear Black all the
rest of her Life. As I had many Coquets recom/
mended to me by their Parents, their Husbands, and their
Lovers, I let them in all at once, desiring them to divert
themselves together as well as they could. Upon their
emerging again into Day/light, you would have fancied
my Cave to have been a Nunnery, and that you had
seen a solemn (Procession of Religious marching out,
one behind another, in the most profound Silence and
the most exemplary Decency. As I was very much
delighted with so edifying a Sight, there came towards
me

146 THE SPECTATOR
. 599.
nda ,
t. 2 ,
me a great Company of Males and Females laughing,
singing, and dancing, in such a manner that I could hear
them a great while before I saw them. Upon my asking
their Leader, what brought them thither? they told me
all at once, that they were French Protestants. lately
arrived in Great Britain, and that finding themselves of
too gay a Humour for my Country, they applied them.
selves to me in order to compose them for British Con/
versation. I told them, that to oblige them I would soon
spoil their Mirth; upon which I admitted a whole Shole
of them, who, after having taken a Survey of the Place,
came out in very good Order, and with Looks entirely
English. I afterwards put in a Dutch Man, who had a
great Fancy to see the Kelder, as he called it, but I could
not observe that it had made any manner of Alteration
in him.
A Comedian who had gained great Reputation in Parts
of Humour, told me, that he had a Mighty Mind to act
Alexander the Great, and fancied that he should succeed
very well in it, if he could strike two or three laughing
Features out of his Face: He tried the Experiment, but
contracted so very solid a Look by it, that I am afraid he
will be fit for no Part hereafter but a Timon of Athens,
or a Mute in the Funeral.
I then clapt up an empty fantastick Citizen, in order to
qualify him for an Alderman. He was succeeded by a
young Rake of the Middle/ Temple, who was brought to
me by his Grandmother; but to her great Sorrow and
Surprise, he came out a Quaker. Seeing my self sur/
rounded with a Body of Free/ Thinkers, and Scoffers at
Religion, who were making themselves merry at the
sober Looks and thoughtful Brows of those who had been
in the Cave; I thrust ’em all in, one after another, and
locked the Door upon 'em. Upon my opening it, they
all ‘look’d as if they had been frighted out of their Wits,
and were marching away with Ropes in their Hands to '
a Wood that was within Sight of the Place. I found they
were not able to bear themselves in their first serious
Thoughts; but knowing these would quickly bring them
to a better Frame of Mind, I gave them into the Custody of
their Friends, ’till that happy Change was wrought in 1hr???
e
THE SPECTATOR 147
The last that was brought to me, was a young Woman, No. 59
who at» the first Sight of my short Face fell into an im/ M01153
moderate Fit of Laughter, and was forced to hold her 137612" 2
Sides all the while her Mother was speaking to me. '
Upon this I interrupted the old Lady, and taking her
Daughter by the Hand, Madam, said I, be pleased to retire
into my Closet, while your Mother tells me your Case.
I then put her into the Mouth of the Cave, when the
Mother, after having begged Pardon for the Girl’s Rude;
'ness, told me, that she often treated her Father and the
gravest of her Relations in the same manner; that she
would sit giggling and laughing with her Companions
from one End of a Tragedy to the other; nay, that she
“would sometimes burst out in the Middle of a Sermon,
and set the whole Congregation a staring at her. The
Mother was going on, when the young Lady came out
of the Cave to us with a composed Countenance, and a
low Curtsie. She was a Girl of such exuberant Mirth,
that her Visit to Trophonius only reduced her to a more
than ordinary Decency of Behaviour, and made a very
pretty Prude of her. After having performed innumer/
able Cures, I looked about me with great Satisfaction, and
saw all my Patients walking by themselves in a very
pensive and musing Posture, so that the whole Place
seemed covered with Philosophers. I was at length
resolved to go into the Cave my self, and see what it
was that had produced such wonderful Effects upon the
Company; but as I was stooping at the Entrance, the
Door being something low, I gave such a Nod in my
Chair, that I awaked. After having recovered my self
from my first Startle, I was very well pleased at the
Accident which had befallen me, as not knowing but a
little Stay in the Place might have spoiled my SPECTATORS-
Wednesday
148
THE SPECTATOR
a. 600.
'ednes»
iii. 29,
No. 600.
[ADDISON]
---Solemque suum, sua sidera norunt.—-Virg.
Wednesday, September 29.
I HAVE always taken a particular Pleasure in examining -
the Opinions which Men of different Religion, dif/
ferent Ages, and different ‘ Countries, have entertained
concerning the Immortality of the Soul, and the State
of Happiness which they promise themselves in another
World. For whatever Prejudices and Errors Human
Nature lies under; we find that either Reason, or Tradition
from our first Parents, has discovered to all People some.
thing in these great Points which bear Analogy to Truth,
and to the Doctrines opened to us by Divine Revelation.
I was lately discoursing on this Subject with a learned
Person who has been very much conversant among the
Inhabitants of the more Western Parts of Africk. Upon
his conversing with several in that Country, he tells me
that their Notion of Heaven or of a future State of Happi/
ness is this, That every thing we there wish for will
immediately present it self to us. We find, say they,
our Souls are of such a Nature that they require Variety,
and are not capable of being always delighted with the
same Objects. The Supreme Being, therefore, in com.
pliance with this Taste of Happiness which he has
planted in the Soul of Man, will raise up from time to
time, say they, every Gratification which it is in the
Humour to be pleased with. If we wish to be in Groves
or Bowers, among running Streams or Falls of Water,
we shall immediately find our selves in. the midst of
such a Scene as we desire. If we would be entertained
with Musick and the Melody of Sounds, the Consort
arises upon our Wish, and the whole Region about us
is filled with Harmony. In short, every Desire will be
followed by Fruition, and whatever a Man's Inclination
directs him to, will be present with him. Nor is it
material whether the Supreme Power Creates in Con.
formity to our Wishes, or whether he only produces
such a Change in our Imagination, as makes us believe
our selves conversant among those Scenes which delight

US
THE SPECTATOR 149
us. Our Happiness will be the same, whether it proceed No. 600
from external Objects, or from the Impressions of the Wed“
Deity upon our own private Fancies. This is the Sgt. 29
Account which I have received from my learned Friend. 1714, ’
Notwithstanding this System of Belief be in general very
‘ chimerical and visionary, there is something sublime in
its manner of considering the Influence of a Divine Being
on a Human Soul. It has also, like most other Opinions
of the Heathen World upon these important Points, it
has, I say, its Foundation in Truth, as it supposes the
Souls of good Men after this Life to be in a State of
perfect Happiness, that in this State there will be no
barren Hopes, nor fruitless Wishes, and that we shall
enjoy every thing we can desire. But the particular
Circumstance which I am most pleased with in this
Scheme, and which arises from a just Reflexion upon
Human Nature, is that Variety of Pleasures which it
supposes the Souls of good Men will be possessed of
in another World. This I think highly probable, from
the Dictates both of Reason and Revelation. The Soul
consists of many Faculties, as the Understanding, and
the Will, with all the Senses both outward and inward;
or to speak more Philosophically, the Soul can exert
her self in many different Ways of Action. She can
understand, will, imagine, see, and hear, love, and dis
course, and apply her self to many other the like Exercises
of different Kinds and Natures; but what is more to
be considered, the Soul is capable of receiving a most
exquisite Pleasure and Satisfaction from the Exercise of
any of these its Powers, when they are gratified with
their proper Objects; she can be entirely happy by the
Satisfaction of the Memory, the Sight, the Hearing. or
any other Mode of Perception. Every Faculty is as a
distinct Taste in the Mind, and hath Objects accommo/
dated to its proper Relish. Doctor Tillotson somewhere
says, tha he will not presume to determine in what
consists i e Happiness of the Blest, because God Almighty
is capable of making the Soul happy by Ten Thousand
different ays. Besides those several Avenues to Pleasure
which the Soul is endowed with in this Life; it is not
impossible, according to the Opinions of many eéninent
ivmes
150 THE SPECTATOR
.600. Divines, but there may be new Faculties in the Souls
“ms” of good Men made perfect, as well as new. Senses in
Y; 29 their glorified Bodies. This we are sure of, that there
p ' will be new Objects offered to all those Faculties which
are essential to us. ' a
We are likewise to take Notice that every particular
Faculty is capable of being employed on a very great
Variety of Objects. The Understanding, for Example,
may be happy in the Contemplation of Moral, Natural,
Mathematical, and other Kinds of Truth. The Memory
likewise may turn it self to an infinite Multitude of
Objects, especially when the Soul shall have passed
through the Space of many Millions of Years, and
shall reflect with Pleasure on the Days of Eternity.
Every other Faculty may be considered in the same
Extent.
We cannot question but that the Happiness of a Soul
will be adequate to its Nature, and that it is not endowed
with any Faculties which are to lye useless and uni
employed. The Happiness is to be the Happiness of
the whole Man, and we may easily conceive to our
selves the Happiness of the Soul, whilst any one of its
Faculties is in the Fruition of its chief Good. The
Happiness may be of a more exalted Nature in Propora
tion as the Faculty employ’d is so, but as the whole Soul
acts in the Exertion of any of its particular Powers, the
whole Soul is happy in the Pleasure which arises from
any of its particular Acts. For notwithstanding, as has
been before hinted, and as it has been taken Notice of
by one of the greatest modern Philosophers, we divide
the Soul into several Powers and Faculties, there is no
such Division in the Soul it self, since it is the whole
Soul that remembers, understands, wills, or imagines.
Our manner of considering the Memory, Understanding,
Will, Imagination, and the like Faculties, is for lithe better
enabling us to express our selves in such abstracted
Subjects of Speculation, not that there is any such
Division in the Soul it self. ;
Seeing then that the Soul has many different’Faculties,
or in other Words, many different Ways of acting; that
it can be intensely pleased, or made happy by‘all these
different
THE SPECTATOR 151
different Faculties, or Ways of acting; that it may be No. 600
endowed with several latent Faculties, which it is not wedfles
at present in a Condition to exert; that we cannot believe 3:7; 29
the Soul endowed with any Faculty which is of 1101712: 1
Use to it; that whenever any one of these Faculties is
transcendently pleased, the Soul is in a State of Happi/
ness; and in the last Place, considering that the Happiness
of another World is to be the Happiness of the whole
Man; who can question but that there is an infinite
Variety in those Pleasures we are speaking of; and that
this Fulness of Joy will be made up of all those Pleasures
which the Nature of the Soul is capable of receiving.
We shall be the more confirmed in this Doctrine, if
we observe the Nature of Variety, with regard to the
Mind of Man. The Soul does not care to be always
in the same bent. The Faculties relieve one another
by Turns, and receive an additional Pleasure from the
Novelty of those Objects, about which they are con/
versant.
Revelation likewise very much confirms this Notion,
under the different Views which it gives us of our future
Happiness. In the Description of the Throne of God,
it represents to us all those Objects which are able to
gratifie the Senses and Imagination. In very many Places
it intimates to us all the Happiness which the Under;
standing can possibly receive in that State, where all
Things shall be revealed to us, and we shall know, even
as we are known; the Raptures of Devotion, of Divine
Love, the Pleasure of conversing with our Blessed Saviour,
with an innumerable Host of Angels, and with the Spirits
of just Men made perfect, are likewise revealed to us in
several Parts of the Holy Writings. There are also
mentioned these Hierarchies, or Governments, in which
the Blest shall be ranged one above another, and in which
we may be sure a great Part of our Happiness will likewise
consist; for it will not be there as in this World, where
every one is aiming at Power and Superiority; but on
the contrary, every one will find that Station the most
proper for him in which he is placed, and will probably
think that he could not have been so happy in any other
Station. These and many other Particulars, are marked

in
152 THE SPECTATOR
Or
ednesw
Y0
PI: 2 9'
p I
g.
in Divine Revelation, as the several Ingredients of our
Happiness in Heaven, which all imply such a Variety
of Joys, and such a Gratification of the Soul in all its
different Faculties, as I have been here mentioning.
Some of the Rabbins tell us, that the Cherubims are
a Set of Angels who know most, and the Seraphims
a Set of Angels who love most. 'Whether this Distinc/
tion be not altogether Imaginary, I shall not here
examine; but it is highly probable, that among the
Spirits of good Men, there may be some who will be
more pleased with the Employment of one Faculty
than of another, and this perhaps according to those
innocent and virtuous Habits or Inclinations which have
here taken the deepest Root.
I might here apply this Consideration to the Spirits
of wicked Men, with relation to the Pain _which they
shall suffer in every one of their Faculties, and the
respective Miseries which shall be appropriated to each
Faculty in particular. But leaving this to the Reflection
of my Readers, I shall conclude, with observing how we
ought to be thankful to our great Creator, and rejoice
in the Being which he has bestowed upon us, for hav/ ~
ing made the Soul susceptible of Pleasure by so many
different Ways. We see by what a Variety of Passa es,
Joy and Gladness may enter into the Thoughts of an.
How wonderfully a human Spirit is framed, to imbibe
its proper Satisfactions, and taste the Goodness of its
Creator. We may therefore look into our selves—with
Rapture and Amazement, and cannot sufficiently express
our Gratitude to him, who has encompassed us with
such a Profusion of Blessings, and opened in us so many
Capacities of enjoying them.
There cannot be a stronger Argument that God has
designed us for a State of future Happiness, and for that
Heaven which he has revealed to us, than that he has
thus naturally qualified the Soul for it and made it a
Being capable of receiving so much Bliss. He would
never have made such Faculties in vain, and have en»
dowed us with Powers that were not to be exerted on
such Objects as are suited to them. _It is very manifest
by the inward Frame and Constitution of our Minds. tlLat
‘ e

THE SPECTATOR 153
he has adapted them to an infinite Variety of Pleasures No. 600
and Gratifications, which are not to be met with in this Yedfle
Life. We should therefore at all times take Care that ay’ .
r I I I r S ta 29!
we do not disappoint this his gracious Purpose and 173%,
Intention towards us, and make those Faculties which
he formed as so many Qualifications for Happiness and
Rewards, to be the Instruments of Pain and Punishment.
No. 601.
[HENRY GROVE] Friday, October 1.
'0 livdpmros efiepye'rucbs wedivicdis.—Antonin. Lib. 9.
HE following Essay comes from an Hand which has
entertained my Readers once before.
Notwithstanding a narrow contracted Temper be that
which obtains most in the World, we must not therefore
conclude this to be the genuine Characteristick of Man/ .
kind; because there are some who delight in nothing i
so much as in doing Good, and receive more of their j»
Happiness at second hand, or by. rebound from others, '?
than by direct and immediate Sensation. Now tho’ these Heroick Souls are but few, and to Appearance so far
advanced above the groveling Multitude as if they were of another Order of Beings, yet in Reality their Nature
is the same, moved by the same Springs, and endowed
with all the same essential Qualities, only cleared, refined,
and cultivated. Water is the same fluid Body in Winter
and in Summer; when it stands stiffened in Ice, as when
it flows alon in gentle Streams gladdening a thousand
Fields in its rogress. ’Tis a Property of the Heart of
Man to be diffusive: Its kind Wishes spread abroad over
the Face of the Creation; and if there be those, as we
may observe too many of them, who are all wrap'd up in
their own dear selves, without any visible Concern for
their Species, let us suppose that their Good/nature is
frozen, and by the prevailing Force of some contrary
Quality restrained in its Operations. I shall therefore
endeavour to assign some of the principal Checks upon
this generous Propension of the Human Soul, which will
enable us to judge whether, and by. what Method, this
most
154 THE SPECTATOR
I. 601.
day
tobe'r l,
most useful Principle may be unfettered, and restored to
its native Freedom of Exercise.
The first and leading Cause is an unhappy Complexion
of Body. The Heathens, ignorant of the true Source of
Moral Evil, generally charged it on the Obliquity of
Matter, which, being eternal and independant, was
incapable of Change in any of its Properties, even by the
Almighty Mind, who, when He came to fashion it into
a World of Beings, must take it as he found it. This
Notion, as most others of theirs, is a Composition of
Truth and Error. That Matter is eternal, that from the
first Union of a Soul to it, it perverted its Inclinations, and
that the ill Influence it hath upon the Mind is not to be
corrected by God himself, are all very great Errors,
occasioned by a Truth as evident, that the Capacities and
Dispositions of the Soul depend, to a great Degree, on the
bodily Temper. As there are some Fools, others are
Knaves, by Constitution; and particularly, it may be
said of many, that they are born with an illiberal Cast
of Mind; the Matter that composes them is tenacious as
Birdlime, and a kind of Cramp draws their Hands and
their Hearts together, that they never care to open them
unless to grasp at more. 'Tis a melancholy Lot this; but
attended with one Advantage above theirs, to whom it
would be as painful to forbear good Offices, as it is to
these Men to perform them; that whereas Persons
i‘naturally Beneficent often mistake Instinct for Virtue,
by reason of the Difficulty of disti- ' ling-When" one
rules them and when the other, Men of the opposite
QCharacter maybe more certain of the Motive that pre/
dominates in every Action. If they cannot confer a
Benefit with that Ease and Frankness which are neces/
sary to give it a Grace in the Eye of the World, in
requital, the real Merit of what they do is enhanc'd by
the Opposition they surmount in doing it. The Strength
of their Virtue is seen in rising against the Weight of
Nature, and every time they have the Resolution to
discharge their Duty, they make a Sacrifice of Inclination
to Conscience, which is always too grateful to let its
Followers go without suitable Marks of its Approbation.
Perhaps the entire Cure of this ill Quality is no more
possible
THE SPECTATOR 155
possible, than of some Distempers that descend by In. No. 601.
heritance. However, a great deal may be done by a Friday,
Course of Beneficence obstinately persisted in; this, if 83%“
any thing, being a likely way of establishing a moral '
Habit, which shall be somewhat of a Counterpoise to
the Force of Mechanism. Only it must be remembered,
that we do not intermit, upon any Pretence whatsoever,
the Custom of doing Good, in regard if there be the
least Cessation, Nature will watch the Opportunity to
return, and in a short time to recover the Ground it
was so long in quitting: For there is this Difference
between mental Habits, and such as have their Founda.
tion in the Body; that these last are in their Nature
more forcible and violent, and, to gain upon us, need
only not be opposed; whereas the former must be con.
tinually reinforced with fresh Supplies, or the will
languish and die away. And this suggests the eason
why good Habits, in general, require longer time for
their Settlement than bad, and yet are sooner displaced;
the Reason is, that vicious Habits (as Drunkenness for
Instance) produce a Change in the Body, which the others
not doing, must be maintained the same wa they are
acquired, by the mere Dint of Industry, Reso ution, and
Vigilance.
Another Thing which suspends the Operations of
Benevolence, is the Love of the World; proceeding from
a false Notion Men have taken up, that an abundance
of the World is an essential Ingredient into the ’Happiness
of Life. Worldly Things are of such a Quality as to
lessen upon dividing, so that the more Partners there
are, the less must fall to every Man's private Share. The
Consequence of this is, that they look upon one another
with an evil Eye, each imagining all the rest to be
imbarked in an Interest, that cannot take Place but to his
Prejudice. Hence are those eager Competitions for
Wealth or Power; hence one Man's Success becomes
another's Disappointment; and, like Pretenders to the
same Mistress, the can seldom have common Charity
for their Rivals. ot that they are naturally disposed to
quarrel and fall out, but 'tis natural for a Man to prefer
hims' elf to all others, and to secure his own Interest firslti
IV. 2 G
156 THE SPECTATOR
601.
day,
0
If‘ that which Men esteem their Happiness were, like the;
Light, the same sufficient and unconfined Good, whether
' er ’ Ten Thousand enjoy the Benefit of it, or but one, we
should see Men’s good Will, and kind Endeavours,
would be as universal.
Homo qui erranti comiter monstrat viam,
Quasi lumen de sac lumine accendat, facit,
Nihi'lominus {psi Iuceat, cum 1'111' accenderz't.
But, unluckily, Mankind agree in making Choice of
Objects, which inevitably engage them in perpetual
Differences. Learn therefore, like a wise Man, the true
Estimate of Things. Desire not more of the World than
is necessary to accommodate you in passing through it;
look upon ever thing beyond, not as useless only, but
burthensome. Place not your Quiet in things which you
cannot have without putting others beside them, and
thereby making them your Enemies; and which, when
attain'd, will give you more Trouble to keep, than Satisw
faction in the Enjoyment. Virtue is a Good of a nobler
Kind; it grows by Communication, and so little resembles
earthly Riches, that the more Hands it is lodged in, the
greater is every Man's particular Stock. So, by propagat/
ing and mingling their Fires, not only all the Lights of a
Branch together cast a more extensive Bri htness, but
each single Light burns with a stronger Fglame. And
lastly, take this along with you, that if Wealth be an
Instrument of Pleasure, the greatest Pleasure it can put
into your Power, is that of doing Good. ’Tis worth
considering, that the Organs of Sense act within a
narrow Compass, and the Appetites will soon say they
have enough; Which of the two therefore is the happier
Man? He, who confining all his Regard to the Gratifica/
tion of his own Appetites, is capable but of short Fits of
Pleasure? Or the Man, who, reckoning himself a Sharer
in the Satisfactions of others, especially those which come
to them by his Means, enlarges the Sphere of his Happi/
ness
The last Enemy to Benevolence I shall mention, is
Uneasiness of any Kind. A guilty, or a discontented
Mind, a Mind ruffled by ill Fortune, disconcerted by its
own Passions, sowered by Neglect, or fretting at Dis»
appointments

THE SPECTATOR 157
appointments, hath not Leisure to attend to the Necessity No. 6
F'dOI
1‘13
0 a]
or Reasonableness of a Kindness desir'd, nor a Taste for
those Pleasures which wait on Beneficence, which demand
a calm and unpolluted Heart to relish them. The most
miserable of all Beings is the most envious; as, on the
other Hand, the most communicative is the happiest.
And if you are in search of the Seat of perfect Love
and Friendship, you will not find it till you come to
the Region of the Blessed, where Happiness, like a re/
freshing Stream, flows from Heart to Heart in an endless
Circulation, and is preserv’d sweet and untainted by the
Motion. ’Tis old advice, if you have a Favour to request
of any one, to observe the softest times of Address, when
the Soul, in a Flush of cod Humour, takes a Pleasure
to shew itself pleas’d. ersons conscious of their own
Integrity, ' satisfied with themselves, and their Condition,
and full of Confidence in a Supreme Being, and the Hope
of Immortality, survey all about them with a Flow of
Good/will. As Trees which like their Soil, they shoot
out in Expressions of Kindness, and bend beneath
their own precious Load, to the Hand of the Gatherer.
Now if the Mind be not thus easie, 'tis an infallible
Sign that it is not in its natural State: Place the Mind
in its right Posture, it will immediately discover its
innate Propension to Beneficence.
Monday, October 4.
-—-—Facit hoe illos Hyacinthos.—-Juv.
",1 HE following Letter comes from a Gentleman, who,
I find, is very diligent in making his Observations,
Whit?) I think too material not to be communicated to
the ; ublick.
IZSI'I'I
I order to execute the Office of Love/Casuist to Great
Brit in, with which I take my self to be invested by
your Paper of September 8, I shall make some further
Obbervations upon the two Sexes in general, beginning
wi h that which always ought to have the upper Hand.
Af er having observed with much Curiosity the Accomw
plishments
etc
1714.

158 THE SPECTATOR
. 602.
nday,
aober 4,
plishments which are apt to captivate female Hearts, I
find that there is no Person so irresistable as one who
is a Man of Importance, provided it to be in Matters
of no Consequence. One who makes himself talked of,
tho' it be for the particular Cock of his Hat, or for
prating aloud in the Boxes at a Play, is in a fair way
of being a Favourite. I have known a young Fellow
make his Fortune by knocking down a Constable; and
may venture to say, tho' it may seem a Paradox, that
many a Fair One has died by a Duel in which both
the Combatants have survived.
About three Winters ago I took Notice of a young
Lady at the Theatre, who conceived a Passion for a
notorious Rake that headed a Party of Cat/calls; and
am credibly informed, that the Emperor of the Mohocks
married a rich Widow within three Weeks after having
rendered himself formidable in the Cities of London
and Westminster. Scowring and breaking of Windows
have done frequent Execution upon the Sex; but there
is no Sett of these Male Charmers who make their
way more successfully, than those who have gained
themselves a Name for Intrigue, and have ruined the
reatest Number of Reputations. There is a strange
uriosity in the female World to be acquainted with
the clear Man who has been loved by others, and to
know what it is that makes him so agreeable. His
Reputation does more than half his Business. Every
one that is ambitious of being a Woman of Fashion,
looks out for Opportunities of being in his Company;
so that, to use the old Proverb, When his Name is up
he may lye a/bed.
I was very sensible of the great Advantage of being
a Man of Importance upon these Occasions on the Day
of the King's Entry, when I was seated in a Balcony
behind a Cluster of very prett Country Ladies, who
had one of these showy Gen emen in the Midst of
them. The first Trick I caught him at, was bowin to
several Persons of Quality whom he did not know;
nay, he had the Impudence to hem at a Blue Garter
who had a finer Equipage than ordinary, and seemed
a little concerned at the impertinent Huzzas of the Mob,
that
1
THE SPECTATOR 159
that hindered his Friend from taking Notice of him. No. 60
There was indeed one who pull'd off his Hat to him, Monda
and upon the Ladies asking who it was, he told them, 107;?“
it was a Foreign Minister that he had been very merry '
with the Night before; whereas in Truth, it was the
City Common Hunt.
He was never at a Loss when he was asked any
Person's Name, tho' he seldom knew any one under a
Peer. He found Dukes and Earls among the Aldermen,
very goodwnatured Fellows among the Privy/Counsellors,
with two or three agreeable old Rakes among the Bishops
and Judges.
In short, I collected from his whole Discourse, that
he was acquainted with every Body, and knew no Body.
At the same Time, I am mistaken if he did not that Day
make more Advances in the Affections of his Mistress,
who sat near him, than he could have done in half a
Year's Courtship.
Ovid has finely touched this Method of making Love,
which I shall here give my Reader in Mr. Dryden's
Translation.
Page the Eleventh.
Thus Love in Theatres did first improve,
And Theatres are still the Scene of Love:
Nor shun the Chariots, and the Courser’s Race;
The Circus is no inconvenient Place.
Nor need is there of talln'n on the Hand,
Nor Nods, nor Signs whic Lovers understand;
But boldly next the Fair your Seat provide,
Close as you can to hers, and Side by Side :
Pleas’d or unpleas'd, no Matter; crowding sit;
For so the Laws of publick Shows permit.
Then find Occasion to begin Discourse,
Enquire whose Chariot this, and whose that Horse;
To whatsoever Side she is inclin'd,
Suit all your Inclinations to her Blind:
Like what she likes, from thence your Court begin,
And whom she favours, wish that he may win.
Again, Page the Sixteenth.
0 when will come the Da , by Heaven design'd,
When thou. the best and irest of Mankind,
Drawn by white Horses, shalt in Triumph ride,
With conquer'd Slaves attending on thy Side ; SI
' ave:
160 THE SPECTATOR
' 6602.
n ay
’41
Slaves, that no longer can be safe in Flight;
O lorious Object! O surprizing Sight!
O Day of publick joy, too good to end in Night!
On such a Day, if thou, and next to thee
Some Beauty sits, the Spectacle to see;
If she enquire the Names of conquer'd Kings,
Of Mountains, Rivers, and their hidden Springs ;
Answer to all thou knowest; and, if Need be,
Of Things unknown seem to speak knowingly:
This is Euphrates, crown 'd with Reeds I and there
Flows the swift Tigris, with his Seawgreen Hair.
Invent new Names of Things unknown before;
Call this Armenia; that, the Caspian Shore:
Call this a Mede, and that a Parthian Youth;
Talk probably; no Matter for the Truth.
NO:
}_
Wednesday, October 6.
Ducite ab urbe domum, mea carmina, ducite Daphnim.—Virg.
HE following Copy of Verses comes from one of
my Correspondents, and has something in it so
Original, that I do not much doubt but it will; divert my
Readers. I ‘ ~
My Time, O ye Muses, was happily spent,
When Phebe went with me wherever I went;
Ten thousand sweet Pleasures I felt in my Breast:
Sure never fond Shepherd like Colin was blest!
But now she is gone, and has left me behind,
What a marvellous Change on a sudden I find!
When Things were as fine as could possibly be,
I thought ’twas the Spring; but alas! it was she.
IL
With such a Companion, to tend a few Sheep,
To rise up and play, or to lye down and sleep,
I was so good/humour'd, so chearful and gay,
My Heart was as light as a Feather all Day.-
But now I so cross and so peevish am grown,
So strangely uneasy as ever was known.
My Fair one is gone, and my joys are all drown 'd,
And my Heart—~I am sure it weighs more than a
Pound.
III.
THE SPECTATOR 161
In: No. 60
The Fountain that wont to run sweetly along, Yea“
And dance to soft Murmurs the Pebbles among, Scab
Thou know’st, little Cupid, if Phebe was there, 1714,
'Twas Pleasure to look at, 'twas Musiclr to hear:
But now she is absent, I walk by its Side
And still as it murmurs do nothing but chide.
Must you be so chearful, while I go in Pain .’
Peace there with your Bubbling, and hear me complain.
IV.
When my Lamblrins around me would oftentime
IaYi
Andpwhen Phebe and I were as joyful as they,
How pleasant their Sporting, how happy the Time,
When Spring, Love and Beauty, were all in their
Prime 7
But now in their Froliclrs when by me they pass,
I fling at their Fleeces an handful of Grass;
Be still then, I cry, for it makes me quite mad
To see you so merry. while I am so sad.
V.
My dog I was ever well pleased to see
Come wagging his Tail to my fair one and me 1
And Phebe was pleas'd too, and to my Dog said,
Come hither. poor Fellow; and patted his Head.
But now: when he 's fawning, I with a sour Look
Cry, Sirrah; and give him a Blow with my Crook;
And I '11 give him another; for why should not Tray
Be as dull as his Master, when Phebe's away!
VI.
When walking with Phebe, what Sights have I seen I
How fair was the Flower, how fresh was the Green ?
What a lovely appearance the Trees and the Shade,
The Corn/fields and Hedges, and ev’ry thing made 7
But now she has left me, tho' all are still there,
They none of 'em now so delightful appear:
'Twas nought but the Magick, I find, of her Eyes,
Made so many beautiful Prospects arise.
Sweet
162 THE SPECTATOR
:10“), Sweet Musick went with us both all the Wood thro',
ober 6, The Lark, Linnet, Throstle, and Nightingale too;
- Winds over us whisper'd, Flocks by us did bIea-t,
And chirp went the Grasshopper under our Feet.‘
But now she is absent, tho' still they sing on,
The Woods are but lonely, the Melody's gone:
Her Voice in the Consort, as now I have found,
Gave ev'ry thing else its agreeable Sound.
VIII.
Rose, what is become of thy delicate Hue 7
And where is the Violet’s beautiful Blue .7
Does ought of its Sweetness the Blossom beguile,
That Meadow, those Daisies, why do they not smile .7
Ah I Rivals, I see what it was that you drest,
And made your selves fine for; a Place in her Breast:
You put on your Colours to pleasure her Eye,
To be pIuckt by her -Hand, on her Bosom to die.
IX.
How slowly Time creeps till my Phebe return 7
While amidst the soft Zephyrs, cool Breezes, I burn;
Methinks if I knew whereabouts he would tread,
I could breathe on his Wings, and 'twould melt down
the Lead.
Fly swifter, ye Min utes, bring hither my Dear,
And rest so much longer for ’t when she is here.
Ah Colin! old Time is full of Delay,
Nor will budge one Foot faster for all thou canst say.
X.
Will no pitying Power that hears me complain,
Or cure my Disquiet, or soften my Pain I
To be cur'd, thou must, Colin, thy Passion remove;
But what Swain is so silly to live without Love 7
No, Deity, bid the dear Nymph to return,
For ne'er was poor Shepherd so sadly forlorn.
Ah! What shall I do! I shall die with Despair;
Take Heed, all ye Swains, how you love one so fair.
Friday
THE SPECTATOR 163

No. 604. $93604
' ' , r1 ay
Friday, October 8 Octobe'r
Tu ne quaesierz's (scire nefas) quem miln', quem tibx', 1714.
Finem di dederint, Leuconoe I nec Babylonios
Tentari's 11011161'OSr—H01‘1
THE Desire of knowing future Events is one of the
strongest Inclinations in the Mind of Man. Indeed
an Ability of foreseeing probable Accidents is what, in
the Language of Men, is called Wisdom and Prudence:
But, not satisfied with the Light that Reason holds out,
Mankind hath endeavoured to penetrate more compen/
diously into Futurity. - Magick, Oracles, Omens, lucky
Hours, and the various Arts of Superstition, owe their ‘
Rise to this powerful Cause. As this Principle is founded
in Self/Love, every Man is sure to be solicitous in the
first Place about his own Fortune, the Course of his Life,
and the Time and Manner of his Death.
If we consider that we are free Agents, we shall dis;
cover the Absurdity of such Enquiries. One of our
Actions, which we might have performed or neglected,
is the Cause of another that succeeds it, and so the
whole Chain of Life is linked together. Pain, Poverty,
or Infamy, are the natural Product of vicious and impru/
dent Acts; as the contrary Blessings are of good ones;
so that we cannot suppose our Lot to be determined
without Impiety. A great Enhancement of Pleasure
arises from its being unexpected; and Pain is doubled
by being foreseen. Upon all these, and several other
Accounts, we ought to rest satisfied in this Portion
bestowed on us; to adore the Hand that hath fitted
every Thing to our Nature, and hath not more display'd
his Goodness in our Knowledge than in our Ignorance.
It is not unworthy Observation, that superstitious
Enquiries into future Events prevail more or less, in
proportion to the Improvement of liberal Arts and useful
Knowledge in the several Parts of the World. Accord/
ingly we find, that magical Incantations remain in
Lapland i in the more remote Parts of Scotland they
have their second Sight, and several of our own
Countrymen see abundance of Fairies. In Asia this
Credulity
164 THE SPECTATOR
o. 604. Credulity is strong; and the greatest Part of refined
‘idaY: Learning there consists in the Knowledge of Amulets,
“be” 'Talismans, occult Numbers, and the like.
' When I was at Grand Cairo,I fell into the Acquaint/
ance of a goodwnatured Mussulman, who promised me
many good Offices, which he designed to do me when
he became the Prime Minister, which was a Fortune
bestowed on his Imagination by a Doctor very deep in
the curious Sciences. At his repeated Sollicitations I went
to learnmy Destiny of this wonderful Sage. For a small
Sum I had his Promise; but was required to wait in a
dark Apartment till he had run thro’ the preparatory
Ceremonies. Having a strong Propensity, even then,
to Dreaming, I took a Nap upon the Sofa where I was
placed, and had the following Vision, the Particulars
whereof I picked up the other Day among my Papers.
I found my self in an unbounded Plain, where mew
thought the whole World, in several Habits, and with
different Tongues, was assembled. The Multitude glided
swiftly along, and I found in my self a strong Inclination
to mingle in the Train. My Eyes quickly singled out
some of the most splendid Figures. Several in rich
Caftans and glittering Turbans bustled through the
Throng, and trampled over the Bodies of those they
threw down; till to my great Surprize I found, that the
great Pace they went only hastened them to a Scaffold or
a Bowstring. Many beautiful Damsels on the other Side
moved forward with great Gaiety; some danced till they
fell all along; and others painted their Faces till they lost
their Noses. A Tribe of Creatures with busie Looks
falling into a Fit of Laughter at the Misfortunes of the
unhappy Ladies, I turned my Eyes upon them. They
were each of them filling his Pockets with Gold and
Jewels, and when there was no Room left‘for more, these
Wretches looking round with Fear and Horror, pined
away before my Face with Famine and Discontent.
This Prospect of humane; Misery struck me dumb for
some Miles. Then it was that, to disburden my Mind,
I took Pen and Ink, and did every Thing that hath since
happened under my Office of SPECTATOR. WhileI was
employing my self for the Good of Mankind, I was
surprized

THE SPECTATOR 165 "
surprized to meet with very unsuitable Returns from No. 604
my Fellow/Creatures. Never was poor Author so beset Pridav.
with Pamphleteers, who sometimes marched directly 6"
against me, but oftener shot at me from strong Bulwarks, '
or rose up suddenly in Ambush. They were of all
Characters and Capacities, some with Ensigns of Dignity,
and others in Liveries; but what most surprized me,
was to see two or three in black Gowns among my
Enemies. It was no small Trouble to me, sometimes
to have a Man come up to me with an angry Face, and
reproach me for having lampooned him, when I had
never seen or heard of him in my Life. With the Ladies
it was otherwise: Many became my Enemies for not
being particularly pointed out; as there were others who
resented the Satyr which they imagined I had directed
against them. My great Comfort was in the Company
of half a Dozen Friends, who, I found since, were the
Club which I have so often mentioned in my Papers.
I laughed often at Sir Roger in my Sleep, and was
the more diVerted with Will Honeycomb’s Gallantries,
(when we afterwards became acquainted) because I had
foreseen his Marriage with a Farmer's Daughter. The
Regret which arose in my Mind upon the Death of my
Companions, my Anxieties for the Publick, and the many
Calamities still fleeting before my Eyes, made me repent
my Curiosity; when the Magician entered the Room, and
awakened me, by telling me (when it was too late) that
he was just going to begin.
ME. I have only delivered the Prophecy of that Part of
my Life which is past, it being inconvenient to divulge
the second Part 'till a more proper Opportunity.
No. 605.
Monday, October 11.
Exuerint silvestrem animum, cultuque frequenti
In quascunque voces artes, baud tarda sequentur.—-Virg.
AVING perused the following Letter, and finding it
to run upon the Subject of Love, I referr'd it to the
Learned Casuist, whom I have retain’d in my Service for
Speculations of that Kind. He returned it to me the next
Morning
166 THE SPECTATOR
605.
nda
O
I
C
Morning with his Report annexed to it, with both of
3111 which I shall here present my Reader._
‘ Mr. SPECTATOR,
Finding that you have Entertained an useful Person in
your Service in quality of Love Casuist,l apply my self
to you, under a very great Difficulty, that hath for some
Months perplexed me. I have a Couple of humble
Servants, one of which I have no Aversion to; the other
I think of very kindly. The first hath the Reputation of a
Man of good Sense, and is one of those People that your
Sex are apt to Value. My Spark is reckoned a Coxcomb
among the Men, but is a Favourite of the Ladies. If I
marry the Man of Worth, as they call him, I shall oblige
my Parents and improve my Fortune; but with my dear
BeauI promise my self Happiness, altho' not a Iointure.
Now I would ask you, whether I should consent to lead
my Life with a Man that I have only no Objection to, or
with him against whom all Obiections to me appear
frivolous. I am determined to follow the Casuist's Ad.
vice, and I dare say he will not put me upon so serious a
thing as Matrimony, contrary to my Inclination.
I am, dc.
Fanny Pickle.
P.S.I forgot to tell you, that the pretty Gentleman is
the most complaisant Creature in the World, and is
always of my Mind; but the other, forsooth, fancies he
has as much Wit as my self, slights my Lap/dog, and
hath the Insolence to contradict me when he thinks I am
not in the Right. About half an Hour ago, he maintained
to my Face, that a Patch always implies a Pimple.’
As I look upon it to be my Duty rather to side with the
Parents than the Daughter, I shall propose some Con.
siderations to my gentle Querist, which may incline her
to comply with those, under whose Direction she is:
And at the same time, convince her, that it is not
impossible, but she may, in time, have a true Affection
for him who is, at present, indifferent to her: Or, to use
the old Family Maxim, that If she marries first, Love
will come after.
The
THE SPECTATOR 167
The only Objection, that she seems to insinuate against No. 605
the Gentleman proposed to her, is his want of Complais/ Mmdai
ance, which, I perceive, she is very willing to return. 81
Now, I can discover from this very Circumstance, that
~she and her Lover, what/ever they may think of it, are
very good Friends in their Hearts. It is difficult to
. determine, whether Love delights more in giving
,Pleasure or Pain. Let Miss Fickle ask her own Heart,
if she doth not take a Secret Pride in making this Man
of good Sense look very silly. Hath she ever been
better pleased, than when her Behaviour hath made her
Lover ready to hang himself? Or doth she ever rejoice
more, than when she thinks she hath driven him to the
very Brink of a purling Stream? Let her consider, at the
same time, that it is not impossible but her Lover may
have discovered her Tricks, and hath a Mind to give her
as good as she brings. I remember a handsome young
Baggage that treated a hopeful Greek of my Acquaint/
ance, just come from Oxford. as if he had been a
Barbarian. The first Week, after she had fixed him,
she took. a Pinch of Snuff out of his Rival's Box, and
apparently touched the Enemy’s little Finger. She
became a profest Enemy to the Arts and Sciences, and
scarce ever wrote a Letter to him without willfully
misspelling his Name. The young Scholar, to be even
with her, railed at Coquettes as soon as he had got the
Word; and did not want Parts to turn into Ridicule her
Men of Wit and Pleasure of the Town. After having
irritated one another, for the Space of five Months, she
made an Assignation with him fourscore Miles from
London. But as he was very well acquainted with her
Pranks, he took a Journey the quite contrary Way.
Accordingly they met, quarrel’d, and in a few Days were
Married. Their former Hostilities are now the Subject of
their Mirth, being content at present with that Part of
Love only, which bestows Pleasure.
Women, who have been married some time, not
having it in their Heads to draw after them a numerous
Train of Followers, find their Satisfaction in the Posses/
sion of one Man’s Heart. I know very well, that Ladies
in their Bloom desire to be excused in this Particular.
But
0 61'
4.

168 THE SPECTATOR

l4.
ctober l
b. 605. But when Time hath worn out their natural Vanity
QfldaY' and taught them Discretion, their Fondness settles on
'its proper Object. And it is probably for this Reason,
that among Husbands, you will find more that are fond
of Women beyond their Prime, than of those who are
actually in the Insolence of Beauty. My Reader will
apply the same Observation to the other Sex.
I need not insist upon the Necessity of their pursuing
one common Interest, and their united Care for their
Children; but shall only observe, by the Way, that
married Persons are both more warm in their Love, and
more hearty in their Hatred, than any others whatsoever.
Mutual Favours and Obligations, which may be supposed
to be greater here than in any other State, naturally
beget an Intense Affection in generous Minds. As, on
the contrary, Persons who have bestowed such Favours,
have a particular Bitterness in their Resentments, when
they think themselves ill treated by those of whom they
have deserved so much. I
Besides, Miss Fickle may consider, that as there are
often many Faults concealed before Marriage, so there
are sometimes many Virtues unobserved.
To this we may add the great Efficacy of Custom, and
constant Conversation, to produce a mutual Friendship
and Benevolence in two Persons. It is a nice Reflection,
which I have heard a Friend of mine make, that you
may be sure a Woman loves a Man, when she uses his
Expressions, tells his Stories, or imitates his Manner.
This gives a secret Delight; for Imitation is a kind of
artless Flattery, and mightily favours the powerful
Principle of Self/love. It is certain, that married Persons,
who are possest with a mutual Esteem, not only catch
the Air and way of Talk from one another, but fall into
the same Traces of thinking and liking. Nay, some have
carried the Remark so far as to assert, that the Features
of Man and Wife grow, in time, to resemble one another.
Let my fair Correspondent therefore consider, that the
Gentleman recommended will have a good deal of her
own Face in two or three Years; which she must not
expect from the Beau, who is too full of his dear self to
copy after another. And I dare appeal to her own
7 Judgment
THE SPECTATOR 169
Iti'dgment, if that Person will not be the handsomest, No, 605,
that is the most like her self, Monday,
‘ We have a remarkable Instance to our present Pur/ camber
pose in the History of King Edgar, which I shall here 1
relate, and leave it with my fair Correspondent to be
applied to her self.
>This great Monarch, who is so famous in British
Story, fell in Love, as he made his Progress through
his Kingdom, with a certain Duke's Daughter who lived
near Winchester, and was the most celebrated Beauty
of the Age, His Importunities and the Violence of his
Passion were so great, that the Mother of the young
Lady promised him to bring her Daughter to his Bed
the next Night, tho' in her Heart she abhorr'd so in/
famous an Office, It was no sooner dark than she con}
veyed into his Room a young Maid of no disagreeable
Figure, who was one of her Attendants, and did not
want Address to improve the Opportunity for the Ada
vancement of her Fortune, She made so good use of
her Time, that when she offered to rise a little before
Day, the King could by no means think of parting with
her, So that finding her self under a Necessity of dis/
covering who she was, she did it in so handsome a
Manner, that his Majesty was exceeding gracious to
her, and took her ever after under his Protection; in~
somuch that our Chronicles tell us he carry'd her along
with him, made her his first Minister of State, and
continued true to her alone, 'till his Marriage with the
beautiful Elfrr’da,

NO, Wednesday, October 13.
————Iongum cantu solata Iaborem
Arguto, con/0x percurrit pectine telan—Virg.
' Mr, SPECTATQR,
I HAVE a couple of Nieces under my Direction, who
so often run gaddi abroad, that I don’t know where
to have them, Their-Dress, their Tea, and their Visits,
take up all their Time, and they go to Bed as tired with
doing nothing, as I am after quilting a whole PUnder/
V etticoat
170 THE SPECTATOR
l. 606.
ednes.’
Y
:thber
, 1714.

Petticoat. The only time they are not idle, is while
they read your SPECTAToRs; which being dedicated to the
Interests of Virtue, I desire you to recommend the lo '
neglected Art of Needle/work. Those Hours which in
this Age are thrown away in Dress, Play, Visits, and
the like, were employed, in my time, in writing out
Receipts, or working Beds, Chairs and Hangings for
the Family. For my Part, I have ply’d my Needle
these fifty Years, and by my good Will would never
have it out of my Hand. It grieves my Heart to see a
couple of proud idle Flirts sipping their Tea, for a whole
Afternoon, in a Room hung round with the Industry of
their great Grandmother. Pray, Sir, take the laudable
Mystery of Embroidery into your serious Consideration,
and as you have a great deal of the Virtue of the last Age
in you, continue your Endeavours to reform the present.
I amp age,
In Obedience to the Commands of my venerable
Correspondent, I have duly weighed this important
Subject, and promise my self, from the Arguments here
laid down, that all the fine Ladies of England will be
ready, as soon as their Mourning is over, to appear
covered with the Work of their own Hands.
What a delightful Entertainment must it be to the
Fair Sex, whom their native Modesty, and the Tender»
ness of Men towards them, exempts from Publick
Business, to pass their Hours in imitating Fruits and
Flowers, and transplanting all the Beauties of Nature
into their own Dress, or raising a new Creation in their
Closets and Apartments. How pleasing is the Amuse;
ment of walking among the Shades and Groves planted
by themselves, in surveying Heroes slain by their
Needle, or little Cupids which they have brought into
the World without Pain! _
This is, methinks, the most proper way wherein a
Lady can shew a fine Genius, and I cannot forbear
wishing, that several Writers of that Sex had chosen to
apply themselves rather to Tapestry than Rhime. Your
Pastoral Poetesses may vent their Fancy in Rural Land,
skips, and place despairing Shepherds under silken
Willows
THE SPECTATOR 171
Willows, or drown them in a Stream of Mohair. The No. 606%
Heroick Writers may work up Battles as successfully, W648"
and inflame them with Gold or stain them with Crimson. doag'ober
Even those who have only a Turn to a Song or an 13,1714,
Epigram, may put many valuable Stitches into a Purse,
and crowd a thousand Graces into a Pair of Garters.
If I may, without breach of good Manners, imagine
that any pretty Creature is void of Genius, and would
perform her Part herein but very awkwardly, I must
nevertheless insist upon her working, if it be only to
keep her out of Harm's way.
Another Argument for busying good Women in
Works of Fancy, is, because it takes them off from
Scandal, the usual Attendant of Tea/Tables, and all
other unactive Scenes of Life. While they are forming
their Birds and Beasts, their Neighbours will be allowed
to be the Fathers of their own Children: And Whig and
Tory will be but seldom mentioned, where the great
Dispute is, whether Blue or Red is the more proper
Colour. How much greater Glory would Sophronia do
the General, if she would chuse rather to work the
Battel of Blenheim in Tapestry, than signalize her self
with so much Vehemence against those who are Frencb/
men in their Hearts!
A Third Reason that I shall mention, is the Profit that
is brought to the Family where these pretty Arts are
encouraged. It is manifest that this way of Life not
only keeps fair Ladies from running out into Expences,
but is at the same time an actual Improvement. How
memorable would that Matron be, who should have it
Inscribed upon her Monument, ‘that she wrought out
the whole Bible in Tapestry, and died in a good old
Age, after havi covered three hundred Yards of Wall
in the Mansion/ ouse.’
The Premises being considered, I humbly submit the
following Proposals to all Mothers in Great Britain.
I. That no young Virgin whatsoever be allowed to
receive the Addresses of her first Lover, but in a Suit
of her own Embroidering.
II. That before every fresh Servant, she be obliged
to appear with a new Stomacher at the least.
' ' IV. 2 H
172 THE SPECTATOR
>. 606.
ednes/
Y
:tbber
1714.

III. That no one be actually Married, 'till she hath
the Child/bed Pillows, Etc. ready Stitched, as likewise the
Mantle for the Boy quite finished. .
These Laws, if I mistake not, would effectually restore
the decayed Art of Needlework, and make the Virgins
of Great Britain exceedingly Nimble/finger'd in their
Business. _
There is a memorable Custom of the Grecian Ladies,
in this Particular, preserved in Homer, which I hope
will have a very good Effect with my Country/women.
A Widow in Ancient Times, could not, without Indecency,
receive a second Husband, till she had Woven a Shrowd
for her deceased Lord, or the next of Kin to him. Accord.
in gly, the Chast Penelope having, as she thought, lost
Ulysses at Sea, she employed her time in preparing a
Windingwsheet for Laertes, the Father of her Husband.
The Story of her Web being very Famous, and yet not
sufficiently known in its several Circumstances, I shall
give it to my Reader, as Homer makes one of her Wooers
relate it.
Sweet Hope she gave to every Youth apart,
With well taught Looks, and a deceitful Heart:
A Web she wove of many a slender Twine,
Of curious Texture, and perplext Design;
My Youths, she cry’d, my Lord but newly dead,
Forbear a while to court my widow'd Bed,
Till I have wov’n, as solemn Vows require,
This Web, a Shrowd for poor Ulysses' Sire.
His Limbs, when Fate the Hero 's Soul demands,
Shall claim this Labour of his Daughter's Hands :
Lest all the Dames of Greece my Name despise,
While the great King without a Covering lies.
Thus she. Nor did my Friends mistrust the Guile.
All Da she sped the long laborious Toil:
But whven the burning Lamps supply’d the Sun,
Each Night unravell'd what the Day begun.
Three live/long Summers did the Fraud prevail,
The Fourth her Maidens told th’ amazing Tale.
These Eyes beheld, as close I took my Stand,
The backward Labours of her faithless Hand:
'Tlll watch ’d at length, and press'd on every Side,
Her Task she ended, and commenc'd a Bride.
Friday
THE SPECTATOR 173
No. 607. No. 607.
Friday, October 15, 1714. Friday,
, I l , , October
Diczte Io Paean, et Io bis d1c1te Paean : 15' 1714,
Decidit in casses praeda petita meos.——-Ovid.
’ Mr. SPECTATOR,
HAVING in your Paper of Monday last published
my Report on the Case of Mrs. Fanny Pickle,
wherein I have taken Notice, that Love comes after
Marriage; I hope your Readers are satisfied of this Truth,
that as Love enerally produces Matrimony, so it often
happens that atrimony produces Love.
It perhaps requires more Virtues to make a good
Husband or Wife, than what go to the finishing any the
most shining Character whatsoever.
Discretion seems absolutely necessary; and accordingly
we find that the best Husbands have been most famous
for their Wisdom. Homer, who hath drawn a perfect
Pattern of a prudent Man, to make it the more compleat,
hath celebrated him for the just Returns of Fidelity and
Truth to his Penelope; insomuch that he refused the
Caresses of a Goddess for her sake, and, to use the
Expression of the best of Pagan Authors, vetulam suam
praetulz't Immortalita (1', his old Woman was dearer to
him than Immortality.
Virtue is the next necessary Qualification for this
domestick Character, as it naturally produces Constancy
and mutual Esteem. Thus Brutus and Porcia were
more remarkable for Virtue and Affection than any
others of the Age in which they lived.
Good/Nature is a third necessary Ingredient in the
Marriage State, without which it would inevitably sower
upon a thousand Occasions. When Greatness of Mind is
joined with this amiable Quality, it attracts the Admira/
tion and Esteem of all who behold it. Thus Caesar,
not more remarkable for his Fortune and Valour than
for his Humanity, stole into the Hearts of the Roman
People, when breaking through the Custom, he pro/
nounced an Oration at the Funeral of his first and best
beloved Wife.
GoodaNature is insufficient, unless it be steady and
' uniform
174 THE SPECTATOR
riday,
'ctober
i, 1714.

uniform, and accompanied with an Evenness of Temper,
which is, above all things, to be preserved in this Friend;
ship contracted for Life. A Man must be easie within
himself, before he can be so to his other Self. Socrates,
and Marcus Aurelius, are Instances of Men, who, by
the Strength of Philosophy, having entirely composed
their Minds and subdued their Passions, are celebrated
for good Husbands, notwithstandin the first was yoked
with Xantippe, and the other With Fa ustina. If the
wedded Pair would but habituate themselves for the first
Year to bear with one another's Faults, the Difficulty
would be pretty well conquered. This mutual Sweetness
of Temper and Complacency, was finely recommended
in the Nuptial Ceremonies among the Heathens, who
when they sacrificed to juno at that Solemnity, always
tore out the Gaul from the Entrails of the Victim, and
cast it behind the Altar.
I shall conclude this Letter with a Passage out of Dr.
Plott’s Natural History of Staffordshire, not only as it
will serve to fill up your present Paper; but if I find my
self in the Humour, may give Rise to another; I having
by me an old Register, belonging to the Place here under»
mentioned.
“Sir Philip de Somervile held the Manors of
Whichenovre, Scirescot, Ridware, Netherton, and
Cowlee, all in Com. Stafford, of the Earls of Lana
caster, by this memorable Service. The said Sir Philip
shall find, maintain, and sustain, one Bacon/Flitch,
hanging in his Hall at Whichenovre, ready arrayed all
times of the Year, but in Lent, to be given to every
Man or Woman married, after the Day and the Year of
their Marriage be past, in Form following.
Whensoever that any one such before named will
come to enquire for the Bacon, in their own Person, they
shall come to the Bailiff, or to the Porter of the Lordship
of Whichenovre, and shall say 'to them in the Manner as
ensueth.
‘Bayliff, or Porter, I doo you to know, that I am come
for my self, to demand one Bacon Flyke, hanging in the
Hall of the Lord of Whichenovre, after the Form there/
unto belonging.’
, After
THE SPECTATOR 175
After which Relation, the Bayliff or Porter shall assign No. 607
a Day to him, upon Promise by his Faith to return, and Friday,
with him to bring Twain of his Neighbours. And in the 1%“912‘
mean Time, the said Bayliff shall take with him Twain of ' '
the Freeholders of the Lordship of Whichenovre, and
they three shall go to the Manor of Rudlow, belonging to
Robert Knightleye, and there shall summon the aforesaid
Knightleye, or his Bayliff, commanding him to be ready
at Whichenovre the Day appointed, at Prime of Day, with
his Carriage, that is to say, a Horse and a Saddle, a Sack
and a Pryke, for to convey the said Bacon and Corn a
Journey out of the County of Stafford, at his Costages.
And then the said Bayliff shall, with the said Freeholders,
summon all the Tenants of the said Manor, to be ready at
the Day appointed, at Whichenovre, for to do and perform
the Services which they owe to the Bacon. And at the
Day assigned, all such as owe Services to the Bacon, shall
be ready at the Gate of the Manor of Whichenovre, from
the Sun/rising to Noon, attending and awaiting for the
coming of him who fetcheth the Bacon. And when he
is come, there shall be delivered to him and his Fellows,
Chapelets; and to all those which shall be there, to do
their Services due to the Bacon. And they shall lead the
said Demandant with Trumps and Tabours, and other
manner of Minstrels to the Hall/Door, where he shall
find the Lord of Whichenovre, or his Steward, ready to
deliver the Bacon in this Manner.
He shall enquire of him, which demandeth the Bacon,
if he have brought twain of his Neighbours with him:
Which must answer, They be here ready. And then
the Steward shall cause these two Neighbours to
swear, if the said Demandant be a wedded Man, or have
been a wedded Man; and if since his Marriage one Year
and a Day be past; and if he be a Free/man, or a Villain.
And if his said Neighbours make Oath, that he hath for
him all these three Points rehearsed; then shall the Bacon
be taken down, and brought to the Hall Door, and shall
there be laid upon one half Quarter of Wheat, and upon
one other of Rye. And he that demandeth the Bacon
shall kneel upon his Knee, and shall hold his Right
Hand upon a Book, which Book shall be laid uptan
e
176 THE SPECTATOR
id 607.
1 a
101;}
1714,

the Bacon and the Corn, and shall make Oath in this
manner,
‘Here ye, Sir Philip de Somervile, Lord of Whicbenovre,
mayntener and gyver of this Baconne: That I, A, sithe I
Wedded R my Wife, and sithe I hadd hyr in my kepying,
and at my Wylle, by a Year and a Day after our Marriage,
I wold not have chaunged for none other; farer ne
fowler; richer, ne pourer; ne for none other descended
of greater Lynage; slepying ne waking, at noo tyme,
And if the seyd B, were sole and I sole I would take her
to be my Wy'fe before all the Wymen of the Worlde, of
what condiciones soever they be: good or evylle, as help
me God ond his Seyntes, and this Flesh and all Fleshesl
And his Neighbours shall make Oath, that they trust
verily he hath said truly, And if it be found by his
Neighbours beforewnamed that he be a Free/man, there
shall be delivered to him half a Quarter of Wheat and a
Cheese; and if he be a Villain, he shall have half a
Quarter of Rye without Cheese, And then shall Knight;
Ieye the Lord of Rudlow be called for, to carry all these
Things tofore rehearsed; and the said Corn shall be laid
on one Horse and the Bacon above it; and he to whom '
the Bacon appertaineth shall ascend upon his Horse, and
shall take the Cheese before him if he have a Horse,
And if he have none, the Lord of Whicbenovre shall
cause him to have one Horse and Saddle, to such time as
he be passed his Lordship: and so shall they depart the
Manor of Whicbenovre with the Corn and the Bacon,
tofore him that hath won it, with Trumpets, Tabourets,
and other manner of Minstrelsie, And all the Free
Tenants of Whichenovre shall Conduct him to be passed
the Lordship of Whichenovre, And then shall they all
return; except him, to whom appertaineth to make the
Carriage and ourney without the County of Stafford, at
the Costs of is Lord of Whichenovre.“
Monday
THE SPECTATOR 177
No. 608. No, 606%
A Monday. October 18. Monday
——--Pe17'uria ridet amantum—Ovid.
‘ Mr. SPECTATOR,
ACCORDING to my Promise, I herewith transmit to
‘ you a List of several Persons, who from time to time
demanded the Flitch of Bacon, of Sir Philip de Somer/
vile and his Descendants; as it is preserved in an ancient
Manuscript, under the Title of The Register of Whiche/
novre/Hall, and of the Bacon Flitch there maintained.
In the Beginning of this Record is recited the Law or
Institution in Form, as it is already printed in your last
Paper: To which are added two By/Laws, as a Comment
upon the General Law, the Substance whereof is, That
the Wife shall take the same Oath as the Husband,
mutatis mutandis; and that the Judges shall, as they
think meet, interrogate or cross/examine the Witnesses.
After this proceeds the Register in Manner following.
Aubry de Falstaff, Son of Sir John Falstaff, Kt, with
Dame Maude his IVife, were the first that demanded the
Bacon, he having bribed twain of his Father's Com»
panions to swear falsely in his Behoof} whereby he
gained the Flitch : But he and his said W'ife falling im/
mediately into a Dispute how the said Bacon should be
dressed, it was by Order of the judges taken from him,
and hung up again in the Hall.
Alison, the Wife of Stephen Freckle, brought her said
Husband along with her, and set forth the good Con»
ditions and Behaviour of her Consort, adding withall,
that she doubted not but he was ready to attest the like
of her, his IVife; whereupon he, the said Stephen,
shaking his Head, she turned short upon him, and
gave him a Box on the Ear.
Philip de Waverland, having laid his Hand upon the
Book, when the Clause, Were I sole and she sole, was
rehearsed, found a secret Comp unction rising in his
Mind, and stole it off again.
Richard de Loveless, who was a Courtier, and a ve
well bred Man, being observed to hesitate at the Words,
after our Marriage, was there upon required to explain
himself
178 " THE SPECTATOR
608.
nday,
b
0 er
1714.
himself. He replied, by talking very largely of his
exact Complaisance while he was a Lover; and alledg’d,
that he had not in the least disobliged his Wife for a
Year and a Day before Marriage, which he hoped was
the same Thing.
Rejected.
Ioceline Jolly, Esq., making it appear by unquestion/
able Testimony, That he and his Wife had preserved
full and entire Affection for the Space of the first
Month, commonly called the Honevaoney; he had, in
Consideration thereof} one Rasher bestowed upon
him.
After this, says the Record, many Years passed over
before any Demandant appeared at Whichenovre/Hall ;
insomuch that one would have. thought that the whole
Country were turned jews, so little was their Affection
to the Flitch of Bacon.
The next Couple enrolled had like to have carried it,
if one of the Witnesses had not deposed, That dining on
a Sunday with the Demandant, whose Wife had sate below
the Squire's Lady at Church, she the said Wife dropped
some Expressions, as if she thought her Husband
deserved to be knighted; to which he returned a passion;
ate Fish! The Judges taking the Premises into Con/
sideration, declared the aforesaid Behaviour to imply an
unwarrantable Ambition in the Wife, and Anger in the
Husband.
It is recorded as a sufficient Disqualification of a certain
Wife, that speaking of her Husband, she said, God forgive
him.
It is likewise remarkable, that a Couple were reiected
upon the Deposition of one of their Neighbours, that the
Lady had once told her Husband, that it was her Duty
to obey; to which he replied, Oh! my Dear, you are
never in the Wrong.
The violent Passion of one Lady for her Lap/Dog; the
turning away of the old House/Maid by another; a
Tavern/Bill torn by the Wife, and a Taylor's by the
Husband; a Quarrel about the Kissing/Crust; spoiling of
Dinners, and coming in late of Nights; are so many
several Articles which occasioned the Reprobation of
some
THE SPECTATOR 179
some Scores of Demandants, whose Names are recorded
in the aforesaid Register.
Without enumerating other particular Persons,I shall
content my self with observi , that the Sentence pro.
nounced against one Gervase oacher is, that he might
have had Bacon to his Eggs, if he had not hereto;
fore scolded his IVife when they were over boiled.
And the Deposition against Dorothy Dolittle runs in these
Words; That she had so far usurped the Dominion of
the Coal/fire, (the Stirring whereof her Husband
claimed to himself) that by her good Will she never
would suffer the Poker out of her Hand.
Ifind but two Couples, in this first Century, that were
successful: The first, was a Sea/Captain and his Wife,
who, since the Day of their Marriage, had not seen one
another till the Day of the Claim. The second, was an
honest Pair in the Neighbourhood: The Husband was a
Man of plain good Sense, and a peaceable Temper; the
Woman was dumb.’
No. 609.}
Wednesday, October 20.
Farrago libelli-——.——-]uv.

' Mr. SPECTATOR,
I HAVE for some Time desired to appear in your
Paper, and have therefore chosen a Day to steal into
the SPECTATOR, when I take it for granted you will not
have many spare Minutes for Speculations of your own.
As I was the other Day walking with an honest Country/
Gentleman, he very often was expressing his Astonish»
ment to see the Town so mightily crowded with Doctors
of Divinity: Upon which I told him, He was very much
mistaken if he took all those Gentlemen he saw in Scarfs
to be Persons of that Dignity; for, that a young Divine
after his first Degree in the University, usually comes,
hither only to show himself; and on that Occasion is
apt to think he is but half equipp'd with a Gown and
Cassock for his publick Appearance. if he hath not the
additional Ornament of a Scarf of the first Magnitudo to
intitle him to the Appellation of Doctor from his Landlady
and
No. 608
Monday
October
18, l714

180 THE SPECTATOR
. 609.
. dnes/
fbber
and the Boy at Child’s. Now since I know that this
Piece of Garniture is looked upon as a Mark of Vanity or
Affectation, as it is made use of among some of the little
spruce Adventurers of the Town, I should be glad if you
would give it a Place among those Extravagances you
have justly exposed in several of your Papers; being very
well assured that the main Body of the Clergy, both in
the Country and the Universities, who are almost to a
Man untainted with it, would be very Well pleased to see .
this venerable Foppery well exposed. When my Patron
did me the Honour to take me into his Family (for I must
own my self of this Order), he was pleased to say he took
me as 'a Friend and Companion; and whether he looked
upon the Scarf, like the Lace and Shoulder/knot of a Foota
man, as a Badge of Servitude and Dependance,I do not
know, but he was so kind as to leave my wearing of it
to my own Discretion; and not having any just Title to
it from my Degrees, I am content to be without the
Ornament. The Privileges of our Nobility to keep a
certain Number of Chaplains are undisputed, though
perhaps not one in ten of those reverend Gentlemen
have any Relation to the Noble Families their Scarfs be;
long to; the Right generally of creating all Chaplains
except the Domestick, where there is one, being nothing
more than the Perquisite of a Steward’s Place, who, if he
happens to out/live any considerable Number of his noble
Masters, shall probably, at one and the same Time, have
fifty Chaplains, all in their proper Accoutrements, of his
own Creation; though perhaps there hath been neither
Grace nor Prayer said in the Family since the Intro/
duction of the first Coronet.
I am, dc.’
‘Mr. SPECTATOR, ‘
I wish you would write a Philosophical Paper about
Natural Antipathies, with a Word or two concerning the
Strength of Imagination. I can give you a List, upon the
first Notice, of a Rational China Cup, of an Egg that walks
upon two Legs, and a Quart/Pot that sings like a Nightin/
gale. There is in my Neighbourhood a very pretty
prattling Shoulder of Veal, that squawls out at the Sigh;
. _ _ e
THE SPECTATOR 181
of a Knife. Then as for Natural Antipathies,I know a No. 60
General Officer, who was never conquered but by a Wedn
smother’d Rabbit; and a Wife that domineers over her gal? b
Husband by the Help of a Breast of Mutton. A Story 25 c1’71
that relates to my self on this Subject may be thought '
not unentertaining, especially when I assure you that it
is litterally true. I had long made Love to a Lady, in
the Possession of whom I am now the happiest of Man/
kind, whose Hand I should have gained with much
Difficulty without the Assistance of a Cat. You must
know then, that my most dangerous Rival had so strong
an Aversion to this Species, that he infalliny swooned
away at the Sight of that harmless Creature. My Friend
Mrs. Lucy, her Maid, having a greater'Respect for me and
my Purse than she had for my Rival, always took Care
to pin the Tail of a Cat under the Gown of her Mistress,
whenever she knew of his coming; which had such an
Effect, that every Time he entred the Room, he looked
more like one of the Figures in Mrs. Salmon's Wax/work,
than a desirable Lover. In short, he grew sick of her
Company; which the young Lady taking Notice of
(who no more knew why. than he did), she sent me a
Challenge to meet her in Lincoln’s Inn Chappel, which
I joyfully accepted, and have (amongst other Pleasures)
the Satisfaction of being praised by her for my Stratagem.
I am, dc.
From the Hoop. ' Tom. Nimble.’
'Mr. SPECTATOR,
The Virgins of Great Britain are very much oblig'd to
ou for putting them upon such tedious Drudgeries in
Needlework, as were fit only for the Hilpas and the
Nilpas that lived before the Flood. Here's a Stir indeed
with your Histories in Embroidery, your Groves with
Shades of Silk and Streams of Mohair! I would have
you to know, that I hope to kill a hundred Lovers before
the best Housewife in England can stitch out a Battel,
and do not fear but to provide Boys and Girls much "faster
than your Disciples can embroider them. I love Birds and
Beasts as well as you, but am content to fancy them when
they are really made. What do you think of Gilt Leather
for
182 THE SPECTATOR
609.
dnesv
ober
1714.
for Furniture? There's your pretty Hanging for a
Chamber; and what is more, our own Country is the
only Place in Europe where Work of that Kind is toler/
ably done. Without minding our musty Lessons, I am
this Minute going to Pa ul's Church/Yard, to bespeak a
Skreen and a Set of Hangings; and am resolved to encour/
age the Manufacture of my Country.
Yours,
Cleora.
NO:
Friday, October 22.
Sic, cum transierint mei '
Nullo cum strepitu dies,
Plebeius moriar senex.
Illi mors gravis incubat,
Qui, notus nimis omnibus
Ignotus moritur sibi—Seneca.
HAVE often wondered that the jews should contrive
such a worthless Greatness for the Deliverer whom
they expected, as to dress him up in external Pomp and
Pageantr , and represent him to their Imagination, as
making avock amongst his Creatures, and acted with
the poor Ambition of a Caesar or an Alexander. How
much more illustrious doth he a er in his real Char/
acter, when considered as the Au or of universal Bene/
volence among Men, as refining our Passions, exalting
our Nature, giving us vast Ideas of Immortality, and
teaching us a Contempt of that little showy Grandeur,
wherein the [ews made the Glory of their Messiah to
consist?
Nothing (says Longinus) can be Great, the Contempt
of which is Great. The Possession of Wealth and
Riches cannot give a Man a Title to Greatness, because
it is looked u n as a Greatness of Mind, to contemn
these Gifts of ortune, and to be above the Desire of them.
I have therefore been inclined to think, that there are
greater Men who lye concealed among the Species, than
those who come out, and draw upon themselves the
Eyes and Admiration of Mankind. Virgil would never
have been heard of, had not his Domestick Misfortunes
driven him out of his Obscurity, and brought him to Rom
THE SPECTATOR 183
-
If we suppose that there are Spirits or Angels who Na.
look into the Ways of Men, as it is highly probable there F“
are the Notions which they entertain of us, from those
which we are apt to form of one another? Were they
to give us in their Catalogue of such Worthies as are now
living, how different would it be from that, which any
of our own Species would draw up?
We are dazled with the Splendour of Titles, the Ostena
tation of Learning, the Noise of Victories: They, on
the contrary, see the Philosopher in the Cottage, who
possesses his Soul in Patience and Thankfulness, under
the Pressures of what little Minds call Poverty and Dis/
tress, They do not look for Great Men at the Head of
Armies, or among the Pomps of a Court, but often
find them out in . Shades and Solitudes, in the private
Walks and Byapaths of Life, The Evening's Walk of a
wise Man is more illustrious in their Sight, than the
March of a General at the Head of a hundred thousand
Men, A Contemplation on God's Works; a voluntary
Act of Iustice to our own Detriment; a generous Con;
cern for the Good of Mankind; Tears that are shed in
Silence for the Misery of others; a private Desire or
Resentment broken and subdued; in short, an unfeigned
Exercise of Humility, or any other Virtue; are such
Actions as are glorious in their Sight, and denominate
Men great and reputable, The most famous among us
are often looked upon with Pity, with Contempt, or with
Indignation; while those who are most obscure among
their own Species, are regarded with Love, with Appro/
bation, and Esteem,
The Moral of the present Speculation amounts to this,
That we should not be led away by the Censures and
Applauses of Men, but consider the Figure that every
Person will make, at that Time when Wisdom shall be
iustified of her Children, and nothing pass for Great or
Illustrious, which is not an Ornament and Perfectio nto
humane Nature,
The Story of Gyges the rich Lydian Monarch is a
memorable Instance to our present Purpose. The Oracle
being asked by Gyges, who was the happiest Man, replied
Agla its
61
da
are, both from Reason and Revelation; how different 22“: b

o t
171
184 THE SPECTATOR
610.
ay,
.ober
‘ 1714.
Agla its. Gyges, who expected to have heard himself
named on this Occasion, was much surprized, and very
curious to know who this Agla us should be. After
much Enquiry he was found to be an obscure Country
Man, who employed all his Time in cultivating a Garden,
and a few Acres of Land about his House.
Cowley's agreeable Relation of this Story shall close
this Day's Speculation.
Thus Aglaiis (a Man unknown to Men,
But the Gods knew, and therefore lov'd him then)
Thus Iiv'd obscurely then without a Name,
Aglaiis, now consign’d t' eternal Fame.
For Gyges, the rich King, wicked and great,
Presum’d at wise Apollo's Delphick Seat, '
Presum'd to ask, Oh thou, the whole World's Eye,
See'st thou a Man that happier is than I 7
The God, who scorn'd to flatter Man, reply'd,
Aglaiis happier is. But Gyges cry'd,
In a proud Rage, Who can that Aglaiis be!
We've heard as yet of no such King as he.
And true it was, through the whole Earth around,
No King of such a Name was to be found.
Is some old Hero of that Name alive,
Who his high Race does from the Gods derive I
Is it some mighty Gen'ral, that has done
Wonders in Fight, and God/like Honours won I
Is it some Man of endless Wealth ! said he:
None, none of these: who can this Agla'tis be!
After long Search, and vain Enquiries past,
In an obscure Arcadian Vale at last,
(Th’ Arcadian Life has always shady been)
Near Sopho's Town (which be but once had seen)
This Aglaiis, who a Monarch's E'nv drew,
Whose Happiness the Gods stood Igitness to,
This mighty Aglaiis was lab ’ring found,
With his own Hands, in his own little Ground.
So, gracious God, (if it may lawful be,
Among those foolish Gods to mention thee)
So let me act, on such a private Stage,
The last dull Scenes of my declining Age 1
After long Toils and Voyages in vain,
This quiet Port let my toss'd Vessel gain;
Of heav'nly Rest, this Earnest to me lend,
Let my Life sleep, and learn to love her End.
Monday
THE SPECTATOR 185
No. 611. 4
Monday, October 25.
Perfidel sed duris genuit te cautibus horrens ‘
Caucasus, Hircanaeque admorunt ubera t1gres.———V1rg.
I AM willing to postpone every thing, to do any the
least Service for the Deserving and Unfortunate.
Accordingly I have caused the following Letter to be
inserted in my Paper the Moment that it came to my
Hands, without altering one Tittle in an Account which
the Lady relates so handsomely her self.
’ Mr. SPECTATOR,
I Flatter my self, you will not only pity, but, if possible,
redress a Misfortune my self and several others of my
Sex lye under. I hope you will not be offended, nor
think I mean by this to iustifie my own imprudent Cone
duct, or expect You should. No! I am sensible how
severely, in some of your former Papers, you have re}
proved Persons guilty of the like Mismanagements. I
was scarce Sixteen, and, I may say without Vanity,
Handsome, when courted by a false periured Man; who,
. upon Promise of Marriage, rendered me the most un.
happy of Women. After he had deluded me from my
Parents, who were People of very good Fashion, in less
than three .Months he left me. My Parents would not
see, nor hear from me; and had it not been for a Servant,
who had lived in our Family, I must certainly have
perished for want of Bread. However, it pleased Provi»
dence, in a very short time, to alter my miserable Con/
dition. A Gentleman saw me, liked me, and married
me. My Parents were reconciled; and I might be as
happy in the change of my Condition, as I was before
miserable, but for some things, that you shall know,
which are insupportable to me; and I am sure you have
so much Honour and Compassion as to let those Persons
know, in some of your Papers, how much they are in
the wrong. I have been married near five Years, and do
not know that in all that time I ever went abroad without
my
NO. Monda
Octobe
25, 171

186 THE SPECTATOR
611.
0 er
1714.
my Husband's Leave and Approbation. I am obliged,
through the Importunities of several of my Relations, to go
abroad oftner than suits my Temper. Then it is, I labour
under insupportable Agonies. That Man, or rather
Monster, haunts every place I go to. Base Villain!
By reason I will not admit his nauseous wicked Visits
and Appointments, he strives all the ways he can to ruin
me. He left me destitute of Friend or Money, nor ever
thought me worth enquiring after, till he unfortunately
happened to see me in a Front Box sparkling with Jewels.
Then his Passion returned. Then the Hypocrite pre/
tended to be a Penitent. Then he practised all those
Arts that helped before to undo me. I am not to be
deceived a second time by him. I hate and abhor his
odious Passion; and, as he plainly perceives it, either out
of Spight or Diversion, he makes it his Business to expose
me. I never fail seeing him in all publick Company,
where he is always most industrioust spightful. He
hath, in short, told all his Acquaintance of our unhappy
Affair; they tell theirs; so that it is no Secret among his
Companions, which are numerous. They, to whom he
tells it, think they have a Title to be very familiar. If
they bow to me, and I out of good Manners return it,
then I am pester’d with Freedoms that are no ways
agreeable to my self or Company. If I turn my Eyes
from them, or seem displeased, they sower upon it, and
whisper the next Person; he his next; till I have at last
the Eyes of the whole Company upon me. Nay, they
report abominable Falshoods, under that mistaken Notion,
She that will grant Favours to one Man, will to a
hundred. I beg you will let those, who are guilty, know,
how ungenerous this way of proceeding is. I am sure
he will know himself the Person aimed at, and perhaps
put a stop to the Insolence of others. Cursed is the Fate
of unhappy Women! that Men may boast and glory in
those thin s that we must think of with Shame and
Horror! ou have the Art of making such odious
Customs appear detestable. For my Sake, and I am sure,
for the Sake of several others, who dare not own it, but
like me, lye under the same Misfortunes, make it as
infamous for a Man to boast of Favours, or expose gur
ex
THE SPECTATOR 187
Sex, as it is to take the Lie or a Box on the Bar, and not No. 611.
resent it. - Igotngay
Your Constant Reader, ¢ ° er
. 25,1714.
and Admirer,
LESBIA.
P. S. I am the more Impatient, under this Misfortune,
havin received fresh Provocation, last Wednesday, in-
the A bey.’
I entirely agree with the amiable and unfortunate
LESBIA, that an insult upon a Woman in her Circum.
stances, is as infamous in a Man, as a tame Behaviour
when the Lie or a Buffet is given; which Truth, I
shall beg leave of her to illustrate by the following
Observation.
It is a Mark of Cowardice passively to forbear resenting
an Affront, the Resenting of which would lead a Man into
Danger; it is no less a sign of Cowardice to affront a
Creature, that hath not Power to ave e it self. What.
ever Name therefore this ungenerous 11 may bestow
on the helpless Lady he hath injured. I shall not scruple
to ive him in return for it, the Appellation of Coward.
Man, that can so far descend from his Dignity, as to
strike a Lady, can never recover his Reputation with
either Sex, because no Provocation is thought strong
enough to justifie such Treatment from the Powerful
towards the Weak. In the Circumstances, in which poor
LESBIA is situated, she can appeal to no Man whatsoever
to avenge an Insult, more grievous than a Blow. If she
could open her Mouth, the base Man knows, that a Hus/
138fo Brother, a generous Friend would die to see her
ri t .
gA generous Mind, however enraged against an Enemy,
feels its Resentments sink and vanish away, when the
Object of its Wrath falls into its Power. An estranged
Friend, filled with Iealousie and Discontent towards a
Bosom/Acquaintance, is apt to overflow with Tenderness
and Remorse, when a Creature, that was once dear to
him, undergoes any Misfortune. What Name then shall
we give to his Ingratitude, who (forgetting the Favours
he sollicited with Eagerness, and received with. Rapture)
IV. 21 can
188 THE SPECTATOR
can insult the Miseries that he himself caused, and make
Sport with the Pain to which he owes his greatest
Pleasure? There is but one Being in the Creation,
whose Province it is to practise upon the Imbecilities of
frail Creatures, and triumph in the Woes which his own
Artifices brought about; and we well know, those who
follow his Example, will receive his Reward.
Leaving my fair Correspondent to the Direction of her
own Wisdom and Modesty; and her Enemy, and his
mean Accomplices, to the Compunction of their own
Hearts; I shall conclude this Paper with a memorable
Instance of Revenge, taken by a Spanish Lady upon a
guilty Lover, which may serve to show what violent
Effects are wrought by the most tender Passion, when
sower'd into Hatred; and may deter the Young and
Unwary from unlawful Love. The Story, however
Romantick it may appear, I have heard affirmed for a
Truth. -
Not many Years ago an English Gentleman, who in
a Recoitnter by Night in the Streets of Madrid had the
Misfortune to kill his Man, fled into a Church/Porch for
Sanctuary. Leaning against the Door, he was surprized
to find it open, and a glimmering Light in the Church.
He had the Courage to advance towards the Light; but
was terribly startled at the sight of a Woman in White
who ascended from a Grave, with a bloody Knife in
her Hand. The Phantome marched up to him, and
asked him, what he did there. He told her the Truth
without reserve, believing that he had met a, Ghost:
Upon which, she spoke to him in the following Manner.
‘Stranger, thou art in my Power; I am a Murderer, as
thou art. Know then, that I am a Nun of a noble Family.
A base periured Man undid me, and boasted of it. I soon
had him dispatched; but not content with the Murder, I
Q ave bribed the Sexton to let me enter his Grave, and
have now plucked out his false Heart from his Body; and
thus I use a Traitor’s Heart.’ At these Words she tore
it in Pieces, and trampled it under her Feet.
Wednesday
THE SPECTATOR 189
NO! NO: Wednesday, October 27. it?”
Murranum hic, atavos fl avorum antiqua sonantem Qagbe
Nomina, per regesque actum genus omne Latinos, 27,171
Praecipitem scopulo, atque ingentis turbine saxi
Excutit. effunditque solo.——Virg.
T is highly laudable to pay Respect to Men who are
descended from worthy Ancestors, not only out of
Gratitude to those who have done Good to Mankind, but
as it is an Encouragement to others to follow their
Example. But this is an Honour to be received, not de/
manded, by the Descendants of great Men; and they who
are apt to remind us of their Ancestors, only put us upon
making Comparisons to their own Disadvantage. There
is some Pretence for boasting of Wit, Beauty, Strength or
Wealth, because the Communication of them may give
Pleasure or Profit to others; but we can have no Merit,
nor ought we to claim any Respect, because our Fathers
acted well, whether we would or no.
The following Letter ridicules the Folly I have mend
tioned in a new, and, I think, not disagreeable Light.
’ Mr. SPECTATOR,
Were the Genealogy of every Family preserved, there
would probably be no Man valued or despised on Account
of his Birth. There is scarce a Beggar in the Streets, who
would not find himself lineally descended from some
great Man; nor any one of the highest Title, who would
not discover several base and indigent Persons among his
Ancestors. It would be a pleasant Entertainment to see
one Pedigree of Men appear together, under the same
Characters they bore when they acted their respective
Parts among the Livin . Suppose therefore a Gentleman,
full of his illustrious amily, should, in the same manner
as Virgil makes fEneas look over his Descendants, see
the whole Line of his Progenitors pass in Review before
his Eyes. With how many varying Passions would he
behold Shepherds and Soldiers, Statesnmen and Artificers,
Princes and Beggars, walk in the Procession of five
thousand Years! How would his Heart sink or flutter
at the several Sports of Fortune in a Scene so diversified
with
190 THE SPECTATOR
612.
d‘nesw
1
tober
1714,
with Rags and Purple, Handicraft Tools and Sceptres,
Ensigns of Dignity and Emblems of Disgrace; and how
would his Fears and Apprehensions, his Transports and
Mortifications, succeed one another, as the Line of his
Genealogy appear’d bright or obscure?
In most of the Pedigrees hung up in old Mansion
Houses, you are sure to find the first in the Catalogue a
great Statesman, or a Soldier with an honourable Com/
mission. The honest Artificer that begot him, and all
his frugal Ancestors before him, are torn off from the Top
of the Register; and you are not left to imagine, that the
noble Founder of the Family ever had a Father, Were
we to trace many boasted Lines farther backwards, we
should lose them in a Mob of Tradesmen, or ,a Crowd of
Rusticks, without hope of seeing them emerge again:
Not unlike the old Appian way, which, after having run
many Miles in Length, loses it self in a Bog, ,
I lately made a Visit to an old Country Gentleman,
who is very far gone in this sort of Family/Madness,
I found him in his Study perusing an old Register of his
Family, which he had just then discovered, as it was
branched out in the Form of a Tree, upon a Skin of
Parchment, Having the Honour to have some of his
Blood in my Veins, he permitted me to cast my Eye
over the Boughs of this venerable Plant; and asked my
Advice in the Reforming of some of the superfluous
Branches,
We passed slightly over three or four of our immediate
Fore/fathers, whom we knew by Tradition, but were
soon stopped by an Alderman of London, who, I per/
ceived, made my Kinsman's Heart go pit/a/pat, His
Confusion increased when he found the Alderman’s
Father to be a Grasier; but he recovered his Fright upon
seeing justice of the Quorum at the end of his Titles,
Things went on pretty well, as we threw our Eyes
occasionally over the Tree, when unfortunately he per/
ceived a Merchant/Tailor perched on a Bough, who was
said greatly to have encreased the Estate; he was just a
going to cut him off, if he had not seen Gent, after the
Name of his Son; who was recorded to have mortgaged
one of the Manors his honest Father had purchased, A

Weaver
THE SPECTATOR 191
Weaver, who was burnt for his Religion in the Reign of No. 61
Queen Mary, was pruned away without Mercy; as Wed“
was likewise a Yeoman, who died of a Fall from his Oaggb
own Cart. But great was our Triumph in one of the 27,171
Blood who was beheaded for High / Treason; which
nevertheless was not a little allayed by another of our
Ancestors who was hanged for stealing Sheep. The
Expectations of my good Cousin were wonderfully
raised by a Match into the Family of a Knight, but
unfortunately for us this Branch proved barren;
On the other hand Margery the Milk/maid being
twined round a Bough, it flourished out into so many
Shoots, and bent with so much Fruit, that the old
Gentleman was quite out of Countenance. To comfort
me, under this Disgrace, he singled out a Branch ten
times more fruitful than the other, which, he told me,
he valued more than any in the Tree, and bade me
be of good Comfort. This enormous Bough was a
Graft out of a Welch Heiress, with so many A p’s upon
it that it might have made a little Grove by it self.
From the Trunk of the Pedigree, which was chiefly
composed of Labourers and Shepherds, arose a huge
Sprout of Farmers; this was branched out into Yeomen;
and ended in a Sheriff of the County, who was Knighted
for his good Service to the Crown, in bringing up an
Address. Several of the Names that seemed to disparage
the Family, being looked upon as Mistakes, were lopped
off as rotten or withered; as, on the contrary, no small
Number appearing without any Titles, my Cousin, to
supply the Defects of the Manuscript, added Esq. at the
End of each of them.
This Tree so pruned, dressed, and cultivated, was,
within few Days, transplanted into a large Sheet of
Vellum and placed in the great Hall, where it attracts
the Veneration of his Tenants every Sunday Morning,
while they wait till his Worship is ready to go to
Church; wondering that a Man who had so many
Fathers before him, should not be made a Knight, or
at least a Justice of the Peace.
Friday
192
THE SPECTATOR
cl613.
aY
ober
1714.
No. 613.
Friday, October 29.
--—-— Studiis florentem ignobilis oti.-—-Virg.
T is reckoned a Piece of Ill/breeding for one Man
to engross the whole Talk to himself. For this
Reason, since I keep three Visiting/Days in the Week,
I am content now and then to let my Friends put in
a Word. There are several Advantages hereby accrue
ing both to my Readers and my self. As first, Young
and modest Writers have an Opportunity of getting into
Print: Again, the Town enioys the Pleasure of Variety;
and Posterity will see the Humour of the present Age,
by the help of these little Lights into private and
domestick Life. The Benefits I receive from thence,
are such as these: I gain more Time for future Specu/
lations: pick up Hints which I improve for the publick
Good; give Advice; redress Grievances; and, by leav/
ing commodious Spaces between the several Letters that
I print, furnish out a Spectator with little Labour and
great Ostentation.
’ Mr. SPECTATOR,
I was mightily pleased with your Speculation of
Friday. Your Sentiments are Noble, and the whole
worked up in such a manner, as cannot but strike upon
every Reader. But give me leave to make this Remark:
That while you write so Pathetically on Contentment,
and a retired Life, you sooth the Passion of Melancholy,
and depress the Mind from Actions truly Glorious. Titles
and Honours are the Reward of Virtue: We therefore
ought to be affected with them. And tho' light Minds
are too much puffed up with exteriour Pomp, yet I cannot
see why it is not as truly philosophical, to admire the
glowing Ruby, or the sparkling Green of an Emerald, as
the fainter and less permanent Beauties of a Rose or a
Myrtle. If there are Men of extraordinary Capacities
who lye concealed from the World, I should impute it to
them as a Blot in their Character, did not I believe it
owing to the Meanness of their Fortune rather than of
their Spirit. Cowley, who tells the Story of Agla Us with
so
THE SPECTATOR 193
so much Pleasure, was no Stranger to Courts, nor No. 61
insensible of Praise. Friday.
Octobe
What shall I do to be for ever known, 29,171
And make the Age to come my own?
was the Result of a laudable Ambition. It was not till
after frequent Disappointments, that he termed himself
the Melancholy Cowley; and he praised Solitude, when
he despaired of shining in a Court. The Soul of
Man is an active Principle. He therefore, who with;
draws himself from the Scene before he has played his
Part, ought to be hissed off the Stage, and cannot be
deemed Virtuous, because he refuses to answer his End.
I must own I am fired with an honest Ambition to
imitate every illustrious Example. The Battles of Blen.
heim and Ramillies have more than once made me
wish my self a Soldier. And when I have seen those
Actions so nobly celebrated by our Poets, I have
secretly aspired to be one of that distinguished Class.
But in vain I wish, in vain I pant with the Desire of
Action. I am chained down in Obscurity, and the only
Pleasure I can take, is in seeing so many brighter
Genius's join their friendly Lights, to add to the Splendor
of the Throne. Farewel then, dear Spec, and believe
me to be with great Emulation, and no Envy,
Your professed Admirer,
Will. Hopeless.’
‘ Sir, Middle/Temple, Octob. 26. 1714.
Tho' you have formerly made Eloquence the Subject
of one or more of your Papers, I do not remember that
you ever considered it as possessed by a Set of People,
who are so far from making Ouintilian's Rules their
Practice, that, I dare say for them, they never heard
of such an Author, and yet are no less Masters of it
than Tully or Demosthenes among the Ancients, or
whom you please amongst the Moderns. The Persons
I am speaking of are our common Be gars about this
Town; and that what I say is true, appeal to any
Man who has a Heart one Degree softer than a Stone.
As for my part, who don't pretend to more Humanity
than
194 THE SPECTATOR
i 613.
day
ober
1714.
than my Neighbours, I have oftentimes gone from my
Chambers with Mony in my Pocket, and returned to
them not only Pennyless, but destitute of a Farthing,
without bestowing of it any other way than on these
seeming Objects of Pity. In short, I have seen more
Eloquence in a Look from one of these despicable
Creatures, than in the Eye of the fairest She I ever saw,
yet no one a greater Admirer of that Sex than my
self. What I have to desire of you is, to lay down
some Directions in order to guard against these power.a
ful Orators, or else I know nothing to the contrary but
I must my self be forced to leave the Profession of the
Law, and endeavour to get the Qualifications necessary
to that more profitable one of Begging. But in which
soever of these two Capacities I shine, I shall always
desire to be your constant Reader, and ever will be
Your most humble Servant,
J- B"
‘Sir,
Upon Reading a Spectator last Week, where Mrs.
Fanny Fickle submitted the Choice of a Lover for Life
to your decisive Determination, and imagining I might
claim the Favour of your Advice in an Affair of the
like, but much more difficult Nature, I called for Pen
and Ink, in order to draw the Characters of Seven
Humble Servants, whom I have equally incourag'd for
some time: But alas! while I was reflecting on the
agreeable Subject, and contriving an advantageous De. -
scription of the clear Person I was most inclined to
favour, I happened to look into my Glass. The sight
of the Small/Pox, out of which I am just recovered,
tormented me at once with the Loss of my captivating
Arts and my Captives: The Confusion I was in, on
this unhappy, unseasonable Discovery, is inexpressible.
Believe me, Sir, I was so taken up with the Thoughts
of your fair Correspondent’s Case, and so intent on
my own Design, that I fancied my self as Triumphant
in my Conquests as ever.
Now, Sir, finding I was incapacitated to Amuse my
self on that pleasing Subject, I resolved to apply my
se
THE SPECTATOR 195
self to you, or your Casuistical Agent, for Advice in
my present Circumstances. I am sensible the Tincture
NQI Friday,
of my Skin, and the Regularity of my Features, which 0 t°b
the Malice of my late Illness has altered, are irrecover/
able; yet don't despair, but that Loss, by your Assistance,
may in some Measure be reparable, if you'll please to
propose a way for the Recovery of one only of my
Fugitives.
One of them is in a more particular Manner beholden
to me than the rest; be for some private Reasons being
desirous to be a Lover Incognito, always addressed me
with Billet/Do 1121', which I was so careful of in my Sick/
ness, that I secured the Key of my Love/Magazine
under my Head, and hearing a Noise of opening a
Lock in- my Chamber, indanger’d my Life by getting
out of Bed, to prevent, if it had been attempted, the
Discovery of that Amour.
I have formerly made use of all those Artifices, which
our Sex daily practises over yours, to draw, as it were
undesignedly, the Eyes of a whole Congregation to my
Pew; Ihave taken a Pride in the Number of Admirers
at my Afternoon Leve'e; but am now quite another
Creature. I think, could I regain the attractive Influence
I once had, if I had a Legion of Suitors,I should never
be ambitious of Entertaining more than one. I have
almost contracted an Antipathy to the trifling Discourses
of Impertinent Lovers, though I must needs own, I have
thought it very odd of late, to hear Gentlemen, instead of
their usual Complacencies, fall into Disputes before me of
Politicks, or else weary me with the tedious Repetition of
how thankful I ought to be, and satisfied with my Recovery
out of so dangerous a Distemper; This, though I am very
sensible of the Blessing, yet I cannot but dislike, because
such Advice fmm them rather seems to Insult than
Comfort me, and reminds me too much of what I was;
which Melancholy Consideration I cannot yet rfectly
surmount, but hope your Sentiments on this Pffad will
make it supportable.
To shew you what a Value I have for your Dictates,
these are to certifie the Persons concerned, that unless
one of them returns to his Colours (if I may so call them
DOW
c er
29, 171
196 THE SPECTATOR
613.
day
obei'
, 1714.
now) before the Winter is over, I’ll voluntarily confine
my self to a Retirement, where I’ll punish them all with
my Needle. I'll be revenged on them by deciphering
them on a Carpet, humbly begging Admittance, my self
scornfully refusing it: If you disapprove of this, as
savouring too much of Malice, be pleased to acquaint me
with a Draught you like better, and it shall be faithfully
performed
By the Unfortunate
Monimia.’
No. 614.
Monday, November 1.
Si mihi non animo fixum immotumque sederet,
Ne cui me vinclo vellem sociare iugali,
Postquam primus amor deceptam morte fefellit,

Si non pertaesum thalami taedaeque fuisset;
Huic uni ' forsan potui succumbere culpae.——Virg.
' I \HE following Account hath been transmitted to me
by the Love/Casuist.
’ Mr. SPECTATOR,
Having, in some former Papers, taken Care of the two
States of Virginity and Marriage, and being willing that
all People should be served in their Turn; I this Day
drew out my Drawer of Widows, where I met with
several Cases, to each whereof I have returned satisfactory
Answers by the Post. The Cases are as follow:
Q. Whether Amoret be bound by a Promise of Marria
age to Philander. made during her Husband's Life 2
Q. Whether Sempronia, having faithfully given a
Promise to two several Persons during the last Sickness
of her Husband, is not thereby left at Liberty to chuse
which of them she pleases, or to reject them both for the
Sake of a new Lover?
Cleora asks me, Whether she be obliged to continue
single, according to a Vow made to her Husband at the
Time of his presenting her with a Diamond Neck/lace;
she being informed by a very pretty young Fellow of a
good Conscience, that such Vows are in their Nature
sinful?
Another inquires, Whether she hath not the Right of
Widowhood
THE SPECTATOR 197
Widowhood, to dispose of her self to a Gentleman of great No, 614
Merit, who presses very hard; her Husband being MOflda
irrecoverably gone in a Consumption? 11%? '
An unreasonable Creature hath the Confidence to ask, '
Whether it be proper for her to marry a Man who is
younger than her eldest Son?
A scrupulous well/spoken Matron, who gives me a
great many good Words, only doubts, Whether she is not
obliged in Conscience to shut up her two marriageable
Daughters, till such time as she hath comfortably disposed
of her self?
Sopbronia, who seems by her Phrase and Spelling to
be a Person of Condition, sets forth, That whereas she
hath a great Estate, and is but a Woman, she desires to
be informed, whether she would not do prudently to
marry Camillus, a very idle tall young Fellow, who hath
no Fortune of his own, and consequently hath nothing
else to do but to manage hers?’
Before I speak of Widows, I cannot but observe one
thing, which I do not know how to account for; A Widow
is always more sought after, than an old Maid of the same
Age, It is common enough among ordinary People, for
a stale' Virgin to set up a Shop in a Place where she is
not known; where the large Thumb Ring, supposed to
' be given her by her Husband, quickly recommends her
to some wealthy Neighbour, who takes a Liking to the
jolly Widow, that would have over/looked the venerable
Spinster,
The Truth of it is, if we look into this Sett of Women,
we find, according to the different Characters or Circum/
stances, wherein they are left, that Widows may be
divided into those who raise Love, and those who raise
Compassion,
But not to ramble from this Subject, there are two
Things in which consists chiefly the Glory of a Widow;
the Love of her deceased Husband, and the Care of her
Children: To which may be added a third, arising out of
theb fogmer, Such a prudent Conduct as may do Honour
to ot .
A Widow, possessed of all these three Qualities, makes
not only a virtuous but a sublime Character, T
here
198 THE SPECTATOR
. 614.
nday,
v. 1,
There is something so great and so generous in this
State of Life, when it is accompanied with all its Virtues,
that it is the Subject of one of the finest among our
modern Tragedies in the Person of Andromache; and
hath met with an universal and deserved Applause, when
introduced upon our English Stage by Mr. Philips.
The most memorable Widow in History is Queen
Artemisia, who not only erected the famous Mausoleum,
but drank up the Ashes of her dead Lord; thereby
enclosing them in a nobler Monument than that which
she had built, though deservedly esteemed one of the
Wonders of Architecture.
This last Lady seems to have had a better Title to
a second Husband than any I have read of, since not
one Dust of her Fir$t was remaining. Our modern
Heroines might think a Husband a very bitter Draught,
and would have good Reason to complain, if they might
not accept of a second Partner, till they had taken such
a troublesome Method of losing the Memory of the first.
I shall add to these illustrious Examples out of
ancient Story, a remarkable Instance of the Delicacy
of our Ancestors in Relation to the State of Widowhood,
as I find it recorded in Cowell’s Interpreter. At East
and West/Enborne, in the County of Berks, if a Custo/
mary Tenant die, the Widow shall have what the Law
calls her Free/Bench in all his Copywhold Lands, dum
sola ft casta fuerit; that is, while she lives single and
chaste; but if she commit Incontinency, she forfeits
her Estate: Yet, if she will come into the Court riding
backward upon a Black Ram, with his Tail in her
Hand, and say the Words following, the Steward is
bound by the Custom to re/admit her to her Free;
Bench.
Here I am,
Riding upon a Black Ram,
Like a Whore as I am;
And, for my Crincum Crancum,
Have lost my Bincum Bancum;
And, for my Tail’s Game,
Have done this worldly Shame;
Therefore, I pray you, Mr. Steward, let me have
my Land again.
The 4
THE SPECTATOR 19.9
The like Custom there is in the Manor of Torre in No. 614.
Devonshire, and other Parts of the West. MOHda
his not impossible but I may in a little Time present $113;- 1'
you with a Register of Berkshire Ladies and other '
Western Dames, who rode publickly upon this Occa/
sion; and I hope the Town will be entertained with
a Cavalcade of Widows.
No. 615.
Wednesday, November 3.
——-———— Qui deorum
Muneribus sapienter uti,
Duramque callet pauperiem pati,
Pejusque leto flagitium timet,
Non ille pro caris amicis
Aut patria timidus perire.
IT must be owned that Fear is a very powerful Passion,
since it is esteemed one of the greatest of Virtues
to subdue it. It being implanted in us for our Preserva.
tion, it is no Wonder that it sticks close to us, as long as
we have any thing we are willing to preserve. But as
Life, and all its Enioyments, would be scarce worth the
keeping, if we were under a perpetual Dread of losing
them; it is the Business of Religion and Philosophy to
free us from all unnecessary Anxities, and direct our
Fear to its proper Object.
If we consider the Painfulness of this Passion, and
the violent Effects it produces, we shall see how
dangerous it is to give way to it upon slight Occa.
sions. Some have frightened themselves into Madness,
others have given up their Lives to these Apprehen/
sions. The Story of a Man who grew grey in the
space of one Night's Anxiety is very famous;
O! nox, quam longa es, quae facis una senem.
These Apprehensions, if they proceed from a Con!
sciousness of Guilt, are the sad Warnings of Reason;
and may excite our Pity, but admit of no Remedy.
When the Hand of the Almighty is visibly lifted against
the Impious, the Heart of mortal Man cannot withstand
him
' 200
THE. SPECTATOR
. 615.
ednes/
Y;
Va 3,
4.
him. We have this Passion sublimely represented in
the Punishment of the Egyptians, tormented with the
Plague of Darkness, in the A pocrypba] Book of IVi'sdom,
ascribed to Solomon:
‘For when unrighteous Men thought to oppress the
holy Nation; they being shut up in their Houses, the
Prisoners of Darkness, and fettered with the Bonds of a
long Night, lay there exiled from the eternal Providence.
For while they supposed to lie hid in their secret Sins,
they were scattered under a dark Veil of Forgetfulness,
being horribly astonished and troubled with strange
Apparitions For Wickedness, condemned by her own
Witness, is very timorous, and being oppressed with
Conscience, always forecasteth grievous things. For
Fear is nothing else but a betrayi of the Succours
which Reason offereth ———— For the w ole World shined
with clear Light, and none were hindered in their Labour.
Over them only was spread a heavy Night, an Image of
that Darkness which should afterwards receive them; but
yet were they unto themselves more grievous than the
Darkness.’
To Fear, so iustly grounded, no Remedy can be pro»
posed; but a Man (who hath no great Guilt hanging upon
his Mind, who walks in the plain Path of Justice and
Integrity, and yet either by natural Complection, or
confirmed Preiudices, or Neglect of serious Reflection,
suffers himself to be moved by this abject and unmanly
Passion) would do well to consider, That there is nothing
which deserves his Fear, but that beneficent Being who
is his Friend, his Protector, his Father. Were this one
Thought strongly fixed in the Mind, what Calamity
would be dreadful? What Load can Infamy lay upon
us, when we are sure of the Approbation of him, who
will repay the Disgrace of a Moment with the Glory
of Eternity? What Sharpness is there in Pain and
Diseases, when they only hasten us on to the Pleasures
that will never fade? What Sting is in Death, when we
are assured that it is only the Beginning of Life? A
Man who lives so, as not to fear to die, is inconsistent
with himself, if he delivers himself up to, any incidental
Anxiety. .
The

THE SPECTATOR 201
The Intrepidity of a just good Man is so nobly set forth
by Horace, that it cannot be too often repeated.
The Man resolv’d and steady to his Trust,
Inflexible to Ill, and obstinately just,
May the rude Rahble’s Insolence despise,
Their senseless Clamours and tumultuous Cries;
The Tyrant's Fierceness he beguiles,
And the stern Brow, and the harsh Voice defies,
And with superior Greatness smiles.
Not the rough Whirlwind, that deforms
Adria's black Gulf, and vexes it with Storms,
The stubborn Virtue of his Soul can move;
Not the Red Arm of Angry Jove,
That flings the Thunder from the Sky,
And gives it Rage to roar, and Strength to fly.
Should the whole Frame of Nature round him break,
In Ruin and Confusion hurl'd, .
He, unconcernU, would hear the mighty Crack,
And stand secure amidst a falling World.
> The Vanity of Fear may be yet farther illustrated, if
we reflect,
First, What we fear may not come to pass. No human
Scheme can be so accurately projected, but some little
Circumstance intervening may spoil it. He, who directs
the Heart of Man at his Pleasure, and understands the
Thoughts long before, may by ten thousand Accidents,
or an immediate Change in the Inclinations of Men,
disconcert the most subtle Project, and turn it to the
Benefit of his own Servants.
In the next Place we should consider, though the
Evil we imagine should come to pass, it may be much
more supportable than it appeared to be. As there is
no prosperous State of Life without its Calamities, so
there is no Adversity without its Benefits. Ask the
Great and Powerful, if they do not feel the Pangs of
Envy and Ambition. Enquire of the Poor and Needy,
if they have not tasted the Sweets of Quiet and Con;
tentment. Even under the Pains of Body; the Infidelity
of Friends; or the Misconstructions put upon our laudable
Actions, our Minds (when for some Time accustomed
.to these Pressures) are sensible of secret Flowings of
Comfort
No. 61
daedne
Y1
NOV: 3'
1714.
202 THE SPECTATOR
615.
dnesa
.3
Comfort, the present Reward of a pious Resignation.
The Evils of this Life appear like Rocks and Precipices,
rugged and barren at a Distance; but at our nearer
Approach, we find little fruitful Spots, and refreshing
Springs, mixed with the Harshness and Deformities of
Nature.
In the last Place, we may comfort our selves with
this Consideration; that, as the Thing feared may not
reach us, so we may not reach what we fear: Our
Lives may not extend to that dreadful Point which we
have in View. He who knows all our Failings, and
will not suffer us to be tempted beyond our Strength,
is often pleased in his tender Severity, to separate the
Soul from its Body and Miseries to ether.
If we look forward to him for l-Pelp, we shall never
be in Danger of falling down those Precipices which
our Imagination is apt to create. Like those who walk
upon a Line, if we keep our Eye fixed upon one Point,
we may step forward securely; whereas an im rw
dent or cowardly Glance on either Side will infalfibly
destroy us.
No. 616.
Friday, November 5.
-—-——Qui bellus homo est, Cotta, pusiIIus homo est—Martial.
I CERO hath observed, that a Jest is never uttered
with a better Grace, than when it is accompanied
with a serious Countenance. When a pleasant Thought
plays in the Features, before it discovers itself in Words,
it raises too great an Expectation, and loses the Advan/
tage of giving Surprize. Wit and Humour are no less
poorly recommended by a Levity of Phrase, and that
kind of Language which may be distinguished by the
Name of Cant. Ridicule is never more strong, than
when it is concealed in Gravity. True Humour lies in
the Thought, and arises from the Representation of
Images in odd Circumstances, and uncommon Lights.
A pleasant Thought strikes us by the Force of its natural
Beauty; and the Mirth of it is generally rather palled,
than heightened by that ridiculous PhraseologY. which
is
THE SPECTATOR 203
is so much in fashion among the Pretenders to Humour No. 61
and Pleasantry. This Tribe of Men are like our Friday.
Mountebanks; they make a Man a Wit, by putting him '
in a fantastick Habit. '
Our little Burlesque Authors, who are the Delight of
ordinary Readers, generally abound in these pert Phrases,
which have in them more Vivacity than Wit.
I lately saw an Instance of this kind of Writing, which
gave me so lively an Idea of it, that I could not forbear
begging a Copy of the Letter from the Gentleman who
shewed it to me. It is written by a Country Wit, upon
the Occasion of the Rejoycings on the Day of the King’s
Coronation.
Past two a clock and
’ Dear lack, a frosty Morning.

I have just left the Right Worshipful and his Myrmidons,
about a Sneaker of Five Gallons. The whole Magistracy
was pretty well disguised before I gave 'em the Slip.
Our Friend the Alderman was half Seas over before the
Bonfire was out. We had with us the Attorney, and
two or three other bright Fellows. The Doctor plays
least in Sight.
At Nine a Clock in the Evening we set Fire to the
Whore of Babylon. The Devil acted his Part to a Miracle.
He has made his Fortune by it. We equipp'd the young
Dog with a Tester a piece. Honest old Brown of England
was very drunk, and show'd his Loyalty to the Tune of
a hundred Rockets. The Mob drank the King's Health,
on their Marrow bones, in Mother Day's Double. They
whip’d us half a dozen Hogsheads. Poor Tom Tyler had
like to have been demolished with the End of a Sky/
Rocket, that fell upon the Bridge of his Nose as he was
drinking the King's Health, and spoiled his Tip. The
Mob were very loyal till about Midnight, when they
grew a little mutinous for more Liquor. They had like
to have dumfounded the justice; but his Clerk came in
to his Assistance, and took them all down in Black and
White.
When I had been huzza’d out of my Seven Senses, I
made a Visit to the Women, who were guzzling very
IV. 2 K comfortably
204 THE SPECTATOR
comfortably, Mrs, Mayoress clip'd the King's English,
Clack was the Word,
I forgot to tell thee, that every one of the Posse had~his
Hat cock'd with a Distich: The Senators sent us down a
Cargo of Ribbon and Metre for the Occasion,
Sir Richard, to shew his Zeal for the Protestant Re;
ligion, is at the Expence of a Tar/Barrel and a Ball, I
peep'd into the Knight's great Hall, and saw a very pretty
Bevy of Spinsters, My dear Relict was amongst them,
affld ambled in a Country/Dance as notably as the best
0 em,
May all his Majesty’s liege Subjects love him as well
as his good People of this his ancient Borough, Adieu,‘
No, 617,
Monday, November 8,
Torva Mimalloneis implerunt cornua bombis,
Et raptum vitqu caput ablatura superbo
Bassaris, 6i Iyncem Maenas flexura corymbis,
Evian ingeminat; reparabilis adsonat echo,—-Persius,
HERE are two Extreams in the Stile of Humour,
one of which consists in the Use of that little pert
Phraseology which I took notice of in my last Paper;
the other in the Affectation of strained and pompous
Expressions, fetched from the learned Languages, The
first savours too much of the Town; the other of the
College,
As nothing illustrates better than Example, I shall here
present my Reader with a Letter of Pedantick Humour,
which was written by a young Gentleman of the Uni,
versity to his Friend; on the same Occasion and from
the same Place as the lively Epistle published in my last
Spectator,
‘ Dear Chum,
It is now the third Watch of the Night, the greatest
Part of which I have spent round a capacious Bowl of
China, filled with the choicest Products of both the
Indies, I was placed at a quadrangular Table, diametri/
cally opposite to the Mace/bearer, The Visage of that
venerable Herald was, according to Custom, most
gloriously
THE SPECTATOR 205
gloriously illuminated on this joyful Occasion. The No. 6
Mayor and Aldermen, those Pillars of our Constitution, M0116
began to totter; and if any one at the Board could have so far articulated, as to have demanded intelliginy a Rein. '
forcement of Liquor, the whole Assembly had been by
this time extended under the Table.
The Celebration of this Night's Solemnity was opened
by the obstreperous Joy of Drummers, who, with their
Parchment Thunder, gave a Signal for the Appearance
of the Mob under their several Classes and Denomina/
tions. They were quickly joined by the melodious Clank
of Marrowabone and Cleaver, whilst a Chorus of Bells
filled up the Consort. A Pyramid of Stack / Faggots
cheared the Hearts of the Populace with the Promise
of a Blaze; The Guns had no sooner uttered the Prologue,
but the Heavens were brightened with artificial Meteors,
and Stars of our own making; and all the High/street
lighted up, from one End to another, with a Galaxy of
Candles. We collected a Largess for the Multitude, who
tippled Eleemosynary till they grew exceeding Vociferous.
There was a Paste/board Pontiff with a little swarthy
Daemon at his Elbow, who, by his diabolical Whispers
and Insinuations, tempted his Holiness into the Fire, and
then left him to shift for himself. The Mobile were very
sarcastick with their Clubs, and gave the old Gentleman
several Thumps upon his triple Head/piece. Tom
Tyler’s Phiz is something damaged by the Fall of a
Rocket, which hath almost spoiled the Gnomon of his
Countenance. The Mirth of the Commons grew so very
outrageous, that it found Work for our Friend of the
Quorum, who, by the help of his Amanuensis, took
down all their Names and their Crimes, with a Design
to produce his Manuscript at the next Quarter/Sessions.
8c. 8c. fic.’
I shall subjoin to the foregoing Piece of a Letter, the
following Copy of Verses translated from an Italian Poet,
who was the Cleveland of his Age, and had Multitudes
of Admirers. The Subject is an Accident that hap/
pened under the Reign of Pope Leo, when a Firework,
that had been prepared upon the Castle of St. Aggelo,
egun
206 THE SPECTATOR
begun to play before its Time, being kindled by a Flash
of Lightning. The Author hath written his Poem in the
same kind of Style, as that I have already exemplified in
Prose. Every Line in it is a Riddle, and the Reader must
be forced to consider it twice or thrice, before he will
know that the Cynick's Tenement is a Tub, and Bacchus
his Cast/coat a Hogshead, Etc.
617.
nday.
’Twas Night, and Heav’n, a Cyclops, all the Day,
An Argus now did countless Eyes display;
In ev’ry Window Rome her joy declares,
All bright, and studded with terrestrial Stars.
A blazing Chain of Lights her Roofs entwines,
And round her Neck the mingled Lustre shines.
The Cynick's rowling Tenement conspires,
With Bacchus his Cast/coat, to feed the Fires,
The Pile, still big with undiscover’d Shows,
The Tuscan Pile did last its Freight disclose,
Where the proud Tops of Rome 's new fEtna .rise,
Whence Giants sally, and invade the Skies.
Whilst now the Multitude expect the Time,
And their tir'd Eyes the lofty Mountain climb,
A thousand Iron Mouths their Voices try,
And thunder out a dreadful Harmony:
In treble Notes the small Artill’ry plays,
The deepamouth'd Cannon bellows in the Bass.
The lab’ring Pile now heaves; and having giv'n
Proofs of its Travail, sighs in Flames to Heav'n.
The Clouds invelop’d Heav'n from Human Sight.
Ouench’d every Star, and put out ever Light;
New real Thunder grumbles in the S 'es,
And in disdainful Murmurs Rome defies;
Nor doth its answer’d Challenge Rome decline!
But whilst both Parties in full Consort join,
While Heav'n and Earth in Rival PeaIs resound,
The doubtful Cracks the Hearer's Sense confound;
Whether the Claps of Thunder/bolts the hear,
Or else the Bursts of Cannon wounds t eir Ear;
Whether Clouds rage 'd by struggling Metals rent,
Or struggling ,Clouds in Roman Metals pent.
But 0, my Morse, the whole Adventure tell,
As ev’ry Accident in order fell.
'Tall Groves of Trees the Hadrian Tow’r surround,
Fictitious Trees with Paper Garlands crown 'd. .
These know no Spring, but when their Bodies sprout
In Fire, and shoot their gilded Blossoms out; Wb
en
THE SPECTATOR 207
When blazing Leaves appear above their Head, A No, 617
And into branching Flames their Bodies spread,
Whilst Real Thunder splits the Firmament,
And Heav’n's whole Roof in one vast Cleft is rent,
The three/fork'd Tongue amidst the Rupture 1011s,
Then drops and on the Airy Turret falls.
The Trees now kindle, and the Garland burns,
And thousand Thunderbolts for one returns.
Brigades of burning Archers upward fly,
Bright Spears and shining Spear/men mount on high,
Flash in the Clouds and glitter in the Sky.
A Sevenrfold Shield of Spheres doth Heav'n defend,
And back again the blunted Weapons send;
Unwillingly they fall, and dropping down,
Pour out their Souls, their Sulph’rous Souls, and groan.
With oy, great Sir. we view'd this pompous Show,
While eav’n, that sate Spectator still till now,
Itself turn 'd Actor, proud to Pleasure you.
And so 'tis fit. when Leo’s Fires ap ear,
That Heav’n itself should turn an Eggineer;
That Heav'n itself should all its Wonders show,
And Orbs above consent with Orbs below.
No. 618.
Wednesday, November 10.
Neque enim concludere versum
Dixeris esse satis : neque siquis scribat, uti nos,
Sermon: propiora, putes hunc esse poetamr—Hor.

‘Mr. SPECTATOR,
- OU having in your two last Spectators given the
Town a couple of remarkable Letters, in very
different Styles; I take this opportunity to offer to you
some Remarks upon the Epistolary way of writing in
Verse. This is a Species of Poetry by it self; and has not
so much as been hinted at in any of the Arts of Poetry
that have ever fallen into my Hands: Neither has it in
any Age, or any Nation, been so much cultivated, as the
other several Kinds of Poesie. A Man of Genius may,
if he pleases, write Letters in Verse upon all manner of
Subjects, that are capable of being embellished with Wit
and Language, and may render them new and agreeable
by giving the proper Turn to them. But in speaking,
at present, of Epistolary Poetry, I would be understood
to mean only such Writings in this Kind, as have been
i
in
208 THE SPECTATOR
618.
dnes/
I
. 10,
in Use amongst the Ancients, and have been copied from
them by some Modems. These may be reduced into
two Classes : In the one I shall range Love/Letters,
Letters of Friendship, and Letters upon mournful
Occasions: In the other I shall place such Epistles in
Verse, as may properly be called Familiar, Critical, and
Moral; to which may be added Letters of Mirth and
Humour. Ovid for first, and Horace for the latter, are
the best Originals we have left.
He that is ambitious of succeeding in the Ovidian
way, should first examine his Heart well, and feel
whether his Passions (especially those of the gentler
Kind) play easie, since it is not his Wit, but the Delicacy
and Tenderness of his Sentiments, that will affect his
Readers. His Versification likewise should be soft, and
all his Numbers flowing and querulous.
The Qualifications requisite for writing Epistles, after
the Model given us by Horace, are of a quite different
Nature. He that would excel in this kind must have a
good Fund of strong Masculine Sense: To this there must
be joined a thorough Knowledge of Mankind, together
with an Insight into the Business, and the prevailing
Humours of the Age. Our Author must have his Mind
well seasoned with the finest Precepts of Morality, and
be filled with nice Reflections upon the bright and the
dark sides of human Life: He must be a Master of
refined Raillery, and understand the Delicacies, as well
as the Absurdities of Conversation. He must have a
lively Turn of Wit, with an easie and concise manner
of Expression; Every thing he says, must be in a free
and disengaged manner. He must be guilty of nothing
that betrays the Air of a Recluse, but appear a Man
of the World throughout. His Illustrations, his Com.
parisons, and the greatest part of his Images must
be drawn from common Life. Strokes of Satyr and
Criticism, as well as Panegyrick, judiciously thrown in
(and as it were by the by) give a wonderful Life and
Ornament to Compositions of this kind. But let our
Poet, while he writes Epistles, though never so familiar,
still remember that he writes in Verse, and must for that
reason have a more than ordinary care not to fallpinto
rose
THE SPECTATOR 209
Prose, and a vulgar Diction, excepting where the Nature No. 61%
and Humour of the Thing does necessarily require it. Wedfl
In this Point Horace hath been thought by some Criticks gay' to be sometimes careless, as well as too negligent of his 173': ‘
Versification; of which he seems to have been sensible
himself.
a All I have to add- is, that both these Manners of
Writing may be made as entertaining, in their way,
as any other Species of Poetry, if undertaken by Persons
duly qualify’d ;, and the latter sort may be managed so as
to become in a peculiar manner Instructive. I am, fic.’
I shall add an Observation or two to the Remarks of
my ingenious Correspondent, and, in the First place,
take Notice, that Subjects of the most sublime Nature
are often treated in the Epistolary way with Advantage,
as in the famous Epistle of Horace to Augustus. The
Poet surprizes us with his Pomp, and seems rather bu
trayed into his Subject, than to have aimed at it by de.
sign: He appears like the Visit of a King Incognito,
with a mixture of Familiarity, and Grandeur. In Works
of this kind, when the Dignity of the Subject hurries
the Poet into Descriptions and Sentiments, seemingly
unpremeditated, by a sort of Inspiration; it is usual for
him to Recollect himself, and fall back gracefully into
the natural Stile of a Letter.
I mi ht here mention an Epistolary Poem, just Pub/
lished By Mr. Eusden on the King’s Accession to the
Throne: Wherein, amongst many other noble and
beautiful Strokes of Poetry, his Reader may see this
Rule very happily observed.
No. 619.
Friday, November 12.

ura
Exerce imperia, 6 ramos compesce f1uentes.—Virg.
I HAVE often thought, that if the several Letters, which
are Written to me under the Character of SPECTATOR,
and which Ihave not made use of, were published in a
Volume, they would not be an unentertaining Collection.
The Variety of the Subjects, Stiles, Sentiments, and In.
formations
210 THE SPECTATOR
21619.
a
v. ii.
4.
formations, which are transmitted to me, would lead a
very curious, or very idle Reader, insensibly along,
through a great many Pages. I know some Authors,
who would pick up a Secret History out of such
Materials, and make a Bookseller an Alderman b the
Copy. I shall therefore carefully preserve the Original
Papers in a Room set apart for that Purpose, to the end
that they may be of Service to Posterity; but shall at
present content my self, with owning the Receipt of
several Letters, lately come to my Hands, the Authors
whereof are impatient for an Answer.
Charissa, whose Letter is dated from Cornhill, desires
to be eased in some Scruples relating to the Skill of
Astrologers. Referred to the Dumb Man for an
Answer.
[.‘C. who proposes a LovewCase, as he calls it, to the
Love/Casuist, is hereby desired to speak of it to the
Minister of the Parish; it being a Case of Conscience.
The poor young Lady, whose Letter is dated October
26, who complains of a harsh Guardian, and an unkind
Brother, can only have my good Wishes, unless she
pleases to be more particular.
The Petition of a certain Gentleman, whose Name
I have forgot, famous for renewing the Curls of
decayed Perriwigs, is referred to the Censor of small
Wares.
The Remonstrance of T. C. against the Profanation of
the Sabbath by Barbers, Shoe/cleaners, ho. had better be
offered to the Society of Reformers.
A learned and laborious Treatise upon the Art of
Fencing, returned to the Author.
To the Gentleman of Oxford, who desires me to
insert a Copy of La tin Verses, which were denied a
Place in the University Books. Answer. Nonumque
prematur in annum. _
To my learned Correspondent who writes against
Master’s Gowns, and Poke Sleeves, with a Word in
Defence of large Scarves. Answer. I resolve not to
raise Animosities amongst the Clergy.
To the Lady, who writes with Rage against one of
her own Sex, upon the Account of Party/ Warmth.
Answer
THE SPECTATOR ' 211
Answer, Is not the Lady she writes against reckoned No, 619
Handsome 7 Friday,
I desire Tom Truelove (who sends me a Sonnet upon 2
his Mistress, with a Desire to print it immediately) to '
consider, that it is long since I was in Love,
I shall answer a very profound Letter from my old
Friend the Upholsterer, who is still inquisitive whether
the King of Sweden be living or dead, by whispering
him in the Ear, That I believe he is alive,
Let Mr, Dapperwit consider, What is that long story
of the Cuckoldom to me ,7
At the earnest Desire of Monimia's Lover, who den
clares himself very penitent, he is recorded in my Paper
by the Name of The Faithful Castalio,
The Petition of Charles Cocks are, which the Peti/
tioner stiles very reasonable—-———Rejected,
The Memorial of Philander, which he desires may
be dispatched out of Hand, Postponed,
I desire ,S’, 1?, not to repeat the Expression under the
Sun so. often in his next Letter,
The Letter of P, S, who desires either to have it
printed entire, or committed to the Flames, Not to be
printed entire, ‘
No, 620,
Hic vir, hic est, tibi quem promitti saepius audis,——Virg,
HAVING lately presented my Reader with a Copy
of Verses, full of the false Sublime, I shall here
communicate to him an excellent Specimen of the True,
Tho’ it hath not been yet published, the judicious Reader
will readily discern it to be the Work of a Master: And
if he hath read that noble Poem on The Prospect of
Peace, he will not be at a Loss to guess at the Author,
The ROYAL PROGRESS,
When BRUNSWICK first appear'd, each honest Heart,
Intent on Verse, disdain'd the Rules of Art;
For Him the Songsters, in unmeasur'd Odes,
pehas'd Alcides, and dethron’d the Gods,
Monday, November 15
In
212 THE SPECTATOR
. 6620.
n ay
Vi 15"
In Golden Chains the Kings of India ‘ led,
Or rent the Turban from the Sultan's Head.
One, in old Fables, and the Pagan Strain,
IVith Nymphs and Tritons, wafts him o'er the Main 1
Another draws fierce Lucifer in Arms,
And fills th' Infernal Region with Alarms;
A Third awakes some Druid, to foretel
Each future Triumph from his dreary Cell.
Exploded Fancies! that in vain deceive,
While the Mind nauseates what she can't believe.
My Muse th' expected Hero shall pursue
From Clime to Clime, and keep him still in View:
His shining March describe in faithful Lays,
Content to paint him, nor presume to praise;
Their Charms, if Charms they have, the Truth
supplies,
And from the Theme unlabour'd Beauties rise.
By longing Nations for the Throne design’d,
And call’d to guard the Rights of Human/kind;
With secret Grief his God/like Soul repines,
And Britain's Crown with ioyless Lustre shines,
While Prayers and Tears his destin'd Progress stay,
And Crowds of Mourners choak their So vereign's Way.
Not so he march'd, when Hostile Squadrons stood 1
In Scenes of Death, and fir'd his generous Blood;
When his hot Courser paw'd th' Hungarian Plain,
And adverse Legions stood the Shock in vain.
His Frontiers pas t, the Belgian Bounds he views,
And cross the level Fields his March pursues.
Here pleas’d the Land of Freedom to survey,
He greatly scorns the Thirst of boundless Sway.
O'er the thin Soil, with silent joy he spies
Transplanted Woods, and borrow'd Verdure rise;
Where every Meadow won with Toil and Blood,
From haughty Tyrants, and the raging Flood, ;
With Fruits and Flowers the careful Hind supplies, 7
And cloaths the Marshes in a rich Disguise. \
Such Wealth for frugal Hands doth Heaven decree, ’_
And such thy Gifts, Celestial Liberty! \
‘ ' Thro ughf
THE SPECTATOR 213
Through stately Towns, and many a fertile Plain, No. 620.
The Pomp advances to the neighbouring Main. Mmda .
Whole Nations (ro wd around with joyful Cries, gall '
And view the Heroe with insatiate Eyes.
In Haga's Towers he waits, 'till Eastern Gales
Propitious rise to swell the British Sails.
Hither the Fame of England's Monarch brings
The Vows and Friendships of the neighb'ring Kings 1
Mature in Wisdom, his extensive Mind
Takes in the blended In t’rests of Mankind,
The World’s great Patriot. Calm thy anxious Breast,
Secure in him, 0 Europe take thy Rest;
Henceforth thy Kingdoms shall remain confin’d
By Rocks or Streams, the Mounds which Heav’n
design'd ;
The Alps their new/made Monarch shall restrain,
Nor shall thy Hills, Pirene, rise in vain.
But see I to Britain's Isle the Squadrons stand
And leave the sinking Towers, and lessening Land.
The Royal Bark bounds o’er the floating Plain,
Breaks thro' the Billows, and divides the Main.
O'er the vast Deep, Great Monarch, dart thine Eyes,
A wa try Prospect bounded by the Skies .-
Ten thousand Vessels from Ten thousand Shores
Bring Gums and Gold, and either India's Stores :
Behold the Tributes hastening to thy Throne,
And see the wide Horison all thy own.
Still is it thine; tho' now the cheerful Crew
Hail Albion's Cliffs, just whitening to the Vie w.
Before the Wind with swelling Sails they ride,
Till Thames receives them in his opening Tide.
The Monarch hears the th undring Peals around,
From trembling Woods and echoing Hills rebound,
Nor misses yet, amid the deafening Train,
The Roarings of the hoarse/resounding Main.
As in the Flood he sails, from either Side
He views his Kingdom in its rural Pride;
214 THE SPECTATOR
. 620. A various Scene the widespread Landskip yields,
“1?” O'er rich Enclosures and luxuriant Fields I
11" ' A lowing Herd each fertile Pasture fills,
And distant Flocks strav o'er a thousand Hills:
Fair Greenwich hid in Woods with new Delight,
(Shade above Shade) now rises to the Sight:
His Woods ordain'd to visit every Shore,
And guard the Island which they grac'd before.
The Sun now rowling down the Western Way,
A Blaze of Fires renews the fading Day;
Unnumber'd Barks the Regal Barge infold,
Brightening the Twilight with its beamy Gold 1
Less thick the finny Shoals, a countless Fry,
Before the Whale or kingly Dolphin fly.
In one vast Shout he seeks the crowded Strand,
And in a Peal of Thunder gains the Land.
Welcome, great Stranger, to our longing Eyes,
Oh! King desir’d, adopted Albion cries.
For Thee the East breath’d out a prosp'rous Breeze,
Bright were the Suns, and gently swell'd the Seas.
Thy Presence did each doubtful Heart compose,
And Factions wonder'd that they once were Foes;
That ioyful Day they lost each Hostile Name,
The same their Aspect, and their Voice the same.
So two fair Twins, whose Features were design'd
At one soft Moment in the Mother’s Mind,
Show each the other with reflected Grace,
And the same Beauties bloom in either Face;
The puzzled Strangers which is which enquire,
Delusion grateful to the smiling Sire.
From that fair Hill, where hoary Sages boast
To name the Stars, and count the heavenly Host,
By the next Dawn doth great Augusta rise,
Proud Town! the noblest Scene beneath the Skies.
O’er Thames her thousand Spires their Lustre shed,
And a vast Navy hides his ample Bed,
A floating Forest. From the distant Strand
A
THE SPECTATOR 215
No. 620.
A Line of golden Carrs strikes o'er the Land: Mondegy,
Britannia's Peers in Pomp and rich Array, {713-1 .
Before their King, triumphant, lead the Way. ,
Far as the Eye can reach, the gawdy Train,
A bright Procession, shines along the Plain.
So haply through the Hea'v'ns wide pathless Ways '
A Comet draws a long/extended Blaze .'
From East to West burns through th' ethereal Frame,
And half Heav’n’s Convex glitters with the Flame.
Now to the Regal Towers securely brought,
He plans Britannia's Glories in his Thought;
Resumes the delegated Pow’r he gave,
Rewards the Faithful, and restores the Brave.
Whom shall the Muse from out the shining Throng
Select to heighten and adorn her Song 7
Thee, Halifax. To thy capacious Mind,
0 Man approv'd, is Britain's Wealth consign ’d.
Her Coin (while Nassau fought) debas’d and rude,
By Thee in Beauty and in Truth renew’d,
An Arduous Work! Again thy Charge we see,
And thy own Care once more returns to Thee.
OI form'd in every Scene to awe and please,
Mix Wit with Pomp, and Dignity with Ease :
Tho' call’d to shine aloft, thou wilt not scorn
To smile on Arts thy self did once adorn :
For this thy Name succeeding Times shall praise,
And envy less thy Garter, than thy Bays.
The Muse, if fir'd with thy enlivening Beams,
Perhaps shall aim at more exalted Themes,
Record our Monarch in a nobler Strain,
And sing the opening Wonders of his Reign;
Bright CAROLmA's heavenly Beauties trace,
Her valiant CONSORT, and his blooming Race.
A Train of Kings their fruitful Love supplies,
A glorious Scene to Albion's ra vish'd Eyes ;
Who sees by BRUNSWICK's Hand her Sceptre sway’d,
And through his Line from Age to Age convey’d.
Wednesday
216 THE SPECTATOR
On
ednesw
a?
CV: 17,
I
No. 621.
Wednesday, November 17.
———-—---Postquam se Iumine vero
Implevit, stellasque vagas miratur 8 astra
Fixa polis, vidit, quanta sub nocte jaceret
Nostra dies, risitque sui Iadibria .——Lucan.

HE following Letter havin in it some Observations
out of the common Road, shall make it the Enter!
tainment of this Day.
‘Mr. SPECTATOR,
The common Topicks against the Pride of Man, which
are laboured by florid and declamatory Writers, are taken
from the Baseness of his Original, the Imperfections of '
his Nature, or the short Duration of those Goods in which
he makes his Boast. Though it be true that we can have
nothing in us that ought to raise our Vanity, yet a Con.
sciousness of our own Merit may be sometimes laudable.
The Folly therefore lies here; We are apt to pride our
selves in worthless, or perhaps shameful Things; and,
on the other hand, count that disgraceful which is our
truest Glory.
Hence it is, that the Lovers of Praise take wrong
Measures to attain it. Would a vain Man consult his
own Heart, he would find, that if others knew his Weak;
nesses as well as he himself doth, hecould not have the
Impudence to expect the publick Esteem. Pride therefore
flows from want of Reflection, and Ignorance of our
selves. Knowledge and Humility come upon us $01
gelhet‘. ‘\
The proper way to make an Estimate of our selves,
is to consider seriously what it is we value or despise
in others. A man who boasts of the Goods of Fortune
a gay Dress, or a new Title, is generally the Mark Rot
Ridicule. We ought therefore not to admire in our selves
what we are so ready to laugh at in other Men. Y:
Much less can we with Reason pride our selves it
those things, which at some time of our Life we shal
certainly despise. And yet, if we will give our selves thl
Trouble of looking backward and forward on the severa
Changes, which we have already undergone and heftt‘e
a e
THE SPECTATOR 217
after must try, we shall find that the greater Degrees of No. 621.
our Knowledge and Wisdom serve only to show us our Wednes'
own Imperfections. flag; 17
As we rise from Childhood to Youth, we look with 1714: '
Contempt on the Toys and Trifles which our Hearts
have hitherto been set upon. When we advance to Man/
hood, we are held wise in proportion to our Shame and
Regret for the Rashness and Extravagance of Youth.
Old Age fills us with mortifying Reflections upon a Life,
mis/spent in the Pursuit of anxious Wealth or uncertain
Honour. Agreeable to this Gradation of Thought in this
Life, it may be reasonably supposed, that in a future
State, the Wisdom, the Experience, and the Maxims of
old Age, will be looked upon by a separate Spirit in
much the same Light, as an ancient Man now sees the
little Follies and Toyings of Infants. The Pomps, the
Honours, the Policies, and Arts of Mortal Men, will be
thought as trifling as Hobby/horses, Mock Battles, or
any other Sports that now employ all the Cunning, and
Strength, and Ambition of rational Beings from four
Years old to nine or ten.
If the Notion of a gradual Rise in Beings, from the
meanest to the most High, be not a vain Imagination,
it is not improbable that an Angel looks down upon a
Man, as a Man doth upon a Creature which approaches
the nearest to the rational Nature. By the same Rule
(if I may indulge my Fancy in this Particular) a superior
Brute looks with a kind of Pride on one of an inferior
Species. If they could reflect, we might imagine from
the Gestures of some of them, that they think themselves
the Soveraigns of the World, and that all Things were
made for them. Such a Thought would not be more
absurd in Brute Creatures, than one which Men are apt
to entertain, namely, That all the Stars in the Firmament
were created only to please their Eyes and amuse their
Imaginations. Mr. Dryden in his Fable of the Cock and
the Fox, makes a Speech for his Hero the Cock, which
is a pretty Instance for this Purpose.
Then turning, said to Partlet, See, my Dear,
How lavish Nature hath adorn'd the Year;
> How the pale Primrose and the Violet spring,
1' And
218 THE SPECTATOR
OI ’ednev
l
Oyv', 17’
'14,
And Birds essay their Throats, disus’d to sing:
All these are ours, and I with Pleasure see
Man strutting on two Legs, and aping me,
What I would observe from the Whole is this, That
we ought to value our selves upon those Things only
which superiour Beings think valuable, since that is the
only 'way for us not to sink in our own Esteem here/
er,
NO; Friday, November 19,

Fallentis semita vitae—Hor,
‘Mr, SPECTATOR,
N a former Speculation you have observed, that true
Greatness doth not consist in that Pomp and Noise
wherein the Generality of Mankind are apt to place it,
You have there taken Notice, that Virtue in Obscurity
often appears more illustrious in the Eye of superior
Beings, than all that passes for, Grandeur and Magnifi/
cence among Men,
When we look back upon the History of those who
have born the Parts of Kings, Statesmen, or Commanders,
they appear to us stripped of those outside Ornaments
that dazzled their Contemporaries; and we regard their
Persons as great or little, in proportion to the Eminence
of their Virtues or Vices, The wise Sayings, generous
Sentiments, or disinterested Conduct of a Philosopher
under mean Circumstances of Life, set him higher in
our Esteem, than the mighty Potentates of the Earth,
when we view them both through the long Prospect of,
many Ages, Were the Memoirs of an obscure Man,
who lived up to the Dignity of his Nature, and according
to the Rules of Virtue, to be laid before us, we should find
nothi in such a Character which might not set him
on anLevel with Men of the highest Stations, The
following Extract out of the private Papers of an honest
Country/Gentleman will set this Matter in a clear Light,
Your Reader will perhaps conceive a greater Idea of him
from these Actions done in Secret, and without a Witness,
than
THE SPECTATOR 219
than of those which have drawn upon them the Admira/ No. 622.
tion of Multitudes. Frida .
NOV; 91
1714.
MEMOIRS.
‘In my 22d Year I found a violent Affection for my
Cousin Charles's Wife growing upon me, wherein I
was in danger of succeeding, if I had not upon that
Account begun my Travels into foreign Countries.
A little after my Return into England, at a private
Meetin with my Uncle Francis, I refused the Offer
of his Estate, and prevailed upon him not to disinherit
his Son Ned.
Mem. Never to tell this to Ned, lest he should think
hardly of his deceased Father; though he continues to
speak ill of me for this very Reason.
Prevented a scandalous Law/Suit betwixt my Nephew
Harry and his Mother, by allowing her under/hand,
out of my own pocket, so much Money yearly as the
Dispute was about.
Procured a Benefice for a young Divine, who is Sister's
Son to the good Man who was my Tutor, and hath been
dead twenty Years.
Gave Ten Pounds to poor Mrs. —-——, my Friend
H ’s Widow.
Mem. To retrench one Dish at my Table, till I have
fetched it up again.
Mem. To repair my House and finish my Gardens
in order to employ poor People after Harvest/time.
Ordered john to let out Goodman D——'s Sheep
that were pounded, by Night; but not to let his Fellow.
Servants know it.
Prevailed upon M'. T Esq., not to take the Law of
the Farmer’s Son for shooting a Partridge, and to give
him his Gun again.
Paid the Apothecary for curing an old Woman that
confessed her self a Witch.
Gave away my favourite Dog for biting a Beg ar.
Made the Minister of the Parish and a Whig ustice
of one Mind, by putting them upon explaining their
Notions to one another.
IV. 2 L Mem.

220 THE SPECTATOR
a 20
iday,
V: 19'
14.
Mem. To turn off Peter, for shooting a Doe while
she was eating Acorns out of his Hand.
When my Neighbour john, who hath often iniur’d
me, comes to make his Request to Morrow:
Mem. I have forgiven him.
Laid up my Chariot and sold my Horses, to relieve
the Poor in a Scarcity of Corn. '
In the same Year remitted to my Tenants a Fifth
Part of their Rents.
As I was airing to Day, I fell into a Thought that
warmed my Heart, and shall, I hope, be the better for
it as long as I live. .
Mem. To charge my Son in private to erect no
Monument for me; but not to put this in my last
Will.’
NO:
Monday, November 22.
Sed mihi vel tellus optem prius ima dehiscat,
Vel pater omnipotens adigat me fulmine ad umbras,
Pallentes umbras Erebi noctemque profundam,
Ante, pudor, quam te violem aut tua iura resolvam.
e meos; primus qui me sibi junxit, amores
Abstulit: zlle habeat secum, servetque sepulcro.——Virg.
AM obliged to my Friend, the Love/Casuist, for the
following curious Piece of Antiquity, which I shall
communicate to the Publick in his own Words.
‘Mr. SPECTATOR,
You may remember, that I lately transmitted to you
an Account of an ancient Custom, in the Manors of
East and West/Enborne, in the County of Berks, and
elsewhere. If a customary Tenant die, the Widow
shall have what the Law calls her FreenBench in
all his Copy/hold Lands, dum sola & casta fuerit; that
is, while she lives single and chaste; but if she
commit Incontinency, she forfeits her Estate : Yet, if
she will come into the Court riding backward upon
a Black Ram, with his Tail in her Hand, and say
the Words following, the Steward is bound by the
Custom to re/admit her to her Free/Bench. H ,
CI'C
THE SPECTATOR 221
Here I am . 623
Riding 11 oh a Black Ram, $211k
Like a here as I am; Nov, 2
And, for my Crincum Crancum, 1714,
Have lost my Bincum Bancum;
And, for my Tail’s Game,
Have done this worldly Shame;
Therefore, I pray you, Mr. Ste ward, let me have
my Land again.
After having informed you that my Lord Coke
observes, that this is the most frail and slippery Tenure
of any in England, I shall tell you, since the writing
of that Letter, I have, according to my Promise, been
at great Pains in searching out the Records of the Black
Ram; and have at last met with the Proceedings of the
Court/Baron, held in that Behalf, for the Space of a
whole Day. The Record saith, that a strict Inquisition
having been made into the Right of the Tenants to
their several Estates, by a crafty old Steward, he found
that many of the Lands of the Manor were, by default
of the several Widows, forfeited to the Lord, and accord/
ingly would have entered on the Premises: Upon which
the good Women demanded the Benefit of the Ram.
The Steward, after having perused their several Pleas,
adjourned the Court to Barnaby bright, that they might
have Day enough before them.
The Court being set, and filled with a great Con/
course of People, who came from all Parts to see the
Solemnity, the first who entered was the Widow Frontly,
who had made her Appearance in the last Year’s Caval/
cade. The Register observes, that finding it an easie Pad/
Ram, and foreseeing she might have further Occasion
for it, she purchased it of the Steward.
Mrs. Sarah Dainty, Relict of Mr. john Dainty, (who
was the greatest Prude of the Parish) came next in
the Procession. She at first made some Difficulty of
taking the Tail in her Hand; and was observed, in
pronouncing the Form of Penance, to soften the two
most emphatical Words into Clincum Clancum : But
the Steward took care to make her speak plain English,
before he would let her have her Land again.
The third Widow that was brought to this wg'orldly
hame
222 THE SPECTATOR
. 623.
nda ,
Vn2|
I
Shame, being mounted upon a vicious Ram, had the
Misfortune to be thrown by him; upon which she
hoped to be excused from going thro' the rest of the
Ceremony: But the Steward being well versed in the
Law, observed very wisely upon this Occasion, that the
breaking of the Rope does not hinder the Execution of
the Criminal. .
The fourth Lady upon Record was the Widow Ogle,
a famous Coquette, who had kept half a Score young
Fellows off and on for the Space of two Years; but
having been more kind to her Carter john, she was
introduced with the Huzzas of all her Lovers about her.
Mrs. Sable appearing in her Weeds, which were
very new and fresh, and of the same Colour with her
whimsical Palfrey, made a very decent Figure in the
Solemnity.
Another, who had been summon'd to make her
Appearance, was excused by the Steward, as well know.
' in his Heart, that the good Squire himself had
qualified her for the Ram.
Mrs. Quick, having nothing to object against the
Indictment, pleaded her Belly. But it was remembered
that she made the same Excuse the Year before. Upon
which the Steward observed, that she might so cow
trive it, as never to do the Service of the Manor.
The Widow Fidget, being cited into Court, insisted that
she had done no more since the Death of her Husband,
than what she used to do in his Lifedime; and withal
desired Mr. Steward to consider his own Wife's Case, if he
should chance to die before her.
The next in order was a Dowager of a very corpulent
Make, who would have been excused as not finding any
Ram that was able to carry her; upon which the Steward
commuted her Punishment, and ordered her to make her
Entry upon a black 0!.
The Widow Maskwell, a Woman who had long lived
with a most unblemished Character, having turned off
her old Chamber/maid in a Pet, was by that revengeful
Creature brought in upon the Black Ram Nine times the
same Day. '
Several Widows of the Neighbourhood, being brought
upon
THE SPECTATOR 223
upon their Tryal, they showed that they did not hold of No. 623
the Manor, and were discharged accordingly. Mondayj
A pretty young Creature, who closed the Procession, 2
came ambling in, with so bewitching an Air, that the '
Steward was observed to cast a Sheep’s Eye upon her,
$5} married her within a Month after the Death of his
1 e.
N. B. Mrs. Touchwood appeared, according to Sum/
mons, but had nothing laid to her Charge; having lived
irreproachably since the Decease of her Husband, who
left her a Widow in the Sixtywninth Year of her Age.
I am, Sir, fic.’
No. 624.
Wednesday, November 24.
Audire atque togam jubeo componere, quisquis
Ambitions mala aut argenti pallet amore,
Quisquis luxuna r—Hor.
ANKIND is divided into two Parts, the Busie and
the Idle. The Busie World may be divided into
the Virtuous and the Vicious: The Vicious again into
the Covetous, the Ambitious, and the Sensual. The Idle
Part of Mankind are in a State inferior to any one of
these. All the other are engaged in the Pursuit of
Happiness, though often misplaced, and are therefore more
likely to be attentive to such Means, as shall be proposed
to them for that End. The Idle, who are neither wise for
this World, nor the next, are emphatically called by Dr.
Tillotson, Fools at large. They propose to themselves
no End, but run adrift with every Wind. Advice there/
fore would be but thrown away upon them, since th
would scarce take the Pains to read it. I shall not fatigue
any of this worthless Tribe with a long Harangue; but
will leave them with this short Saying of Plato, that
Labour is preferable to Idleness, as Brightness to Rust.
The Pursuits of the Active Part of Mankind, are either
in the Paths of Religion and Virtue; or, on the other
Hand, in the Roads to Wealth, Honours or Pleasure. I
shall therefore compare the Pursuits of Avarice, Ambi/
tion and Sensual Delight, with their opposite Virtues;
and shall consider which of these Principles engages
Men

224 THE SPECTATOR
. 624.
ednes/
Y
0%! 24'
14.
Men in a Course of the greatest Labour, Suffering and
Assiduity. _ Most Men, in their cool Reasonin s, are
willing to allow that a Course of Virtue will in t e End
be rewarded the most amply; but represent the Way to
it as rugged and narrow. If therefore it can be made
appear, that Men struggle through as many Troubles to
be miserable, as they do to be happy; my Readers may
perhaps be persuaded to be Good, when they find they
shall lose nothing by it.
First, for Avarice. The Miser is more Industrious than
the Saint; The Pains of getting, the Fears of losing, and
the Inability of enioying his Wealth, have been the Mark
of Satyr in all Ages. Were his Repentance upon his
Neglect of a good Bargain, his Sorrow for being over;
reached, his Hope of improving a Sum, and his Fear of
falling into Want, directed to their proper Objects; they
would make so many different Christian Graces and
Virtues. He may apply to himself a great Part of St.
Pa ul's Catalogue of Sufferings. In journeying often ;
in Perils of We ters, in Perils of Robbers, in Perils
among false Brethren. In Weariness and Painfulness,
in Wa tchings often, in Hunger and Thirst, in Fastings
often. At how much less Expence might he lay up
to himself Treasures in Heaven; or if I may, in this
Place, be allowed to add the Saying of a great Philosopher,
he may provide such Possessions, as fear neither Arms,
nor Men, nor Jove himself.
In the second Place, if we look upon the Toils of
Ambition, in the same Light as we have considered those
of Avarice, we shall readily own that far less Trouble is
requisite to gain lasting Glory, than the Power and
Reputation of a few Years; or, in other Words, we may
with more Ease deserve Honour, than obtain it. The
Ambitious Man should remember Cardinal Walsey's
Complaint. ‘Had I served God, with the same Applica/
tion, wherewith I served my King, he would not have
forsaken me in my old Age.’ The Cardinal here softens
his Ambition by the specious Pretence of serving his
King: Whereas his Words, in the proper Construction,
imply, that if instead of being acted by Ambition, he had
been acted by Religion, he should have now felt the
Comforts

THE SPECTATOR 225
Comforts of it, when the whole World turned its Back No, 624
013011 him, Wednes
Thirdly, Let us compare the Pains of the Sensual, with “133"
those of the Virtuous, and see which are heavier in the 2,4’
Balance, It may seem strange, at the first View, that the
Men of Pleasure should be advised to change their Course,
because they lead a painful Life, Yet when we see them
so active and vigilant in quest of Delight; under so many
Disquiets, and the Sport of such various Passions; let
them answer, as they can, if the Pains, they undergo,
do not outweigh their Enjoyments, The Infidelities on
the one Part between the two Sexes, and the Caprices
on the other, the Debasement of Reason, the Pangs
of Expectation, the Disappointments in Possession, the
Stings of Remorse, the Vanities and Vexations attending
even the most refined Delights that make up this
Business of Life, render it so silly and uncomfortable, that
no Man is thought wise till he hath got over it, or
happy, but in proportion as he hath cleared himself
from it,
The Sum of all is this, Man is made an active Being,
Whether he walks in the Paths of Virtue or Vice, he is
sure to meet with many Difficulties to prove his Patience,
and excite his Industry, The same, if not greater Labour,
is re uired in the Service of Vice and Folly, as of Virtue
and isdom: And he hath this easie Choice left him,
whether with the Strength he is Master of, he will
purchase Happiness or Repentance,
NO: Friday, November 26,
--—-—-——-- Amores
De tenero meditatur ungui—Hor.
THE Love Casuist hath referred to me the following
Letter of Queries, with his Answers to each Ques/
tion for my Approbation, I have accordingly considered
the several Matters therein contained, and hereby confirm
and ratifie his Answers, and require the gentle Ouerist
to conform her self thereunto,
‘Sir
226
THE SPECTATOR
.6625.
.ii's,
I
’ Sir,
I was Thirteen the Ninth of November last, and must
now begin to think of settling my self in the World, and
so I would humbly beg your Advice, what I must do with
Mr. Fondle, who makes his Addresses to me. He is a
very pretty Man, and hath the blackest Eyes and whitest
eeth you ever saw. Though he is but a younger
Brother, he dresses like a Man of Quality, and no Body
comes into a Room like him. I know he hath refused
great Offers, and if he cannot Marry me, he will never
have any Body else. But my Father hath forbid him
the House, because he sent me a Copy of Verses; for he
is one of the greatest Wits in Town. My elder Sister,
who, with her good Will, would call me Miss as long as
I live, must be married before me, they say. She tells
them, that Mr. Fondle makes a Fool of me, and will
spoil the Child, as she calls me, like a confident Thing
as she is. In short, I am resolved to marry Mr. Fondle, if
it be but to spite her. But because I would do nothing
that is imprudent, I beg of you to give me your Answers
to some Questions I will write down, and desire you
to get them printed in the SPECTATOR, and I do not doubt
but you will give such Advice as, I am sure, I shall
follow.
When Mr. Fondle looks upon me for half an Hour
together, and calls me Angel, is he not in Love?
Answer, No.
May not I be certain he will be a kind Husband, that
has promised me half my Portion in Pinwmony, and to
keep me a Coach and Six in the Bargain?
0!
Whether I, who have been acquainted with him, this
whole Year almost, am not a better Judge of his Merit,
than my Father and Mother, who never heard him talk,
but at Table?
No.
Whether I am not old enough to chuse for my self?
No.
Whether it would not have been rude in me to refuse
a Look of his Hair?
No.
Should
THE SPECTATOR 227
Should not I be a very barbarous Creature, if I did not No. 62
pity, a Man that is always Sighing for my Sake? 11:12? .
o. '
Whether you would not advise me to run away with 1714'
the poor Man?
No.
Whether you do not think, that if I won't have him,
he won’t drown himself?
0.:
What shall I say to him the next time he asks me if I
will marry him 2'
No.
The following Letter requires neither Introduction nor
Answer.
' Mr. SPECTATOR,
I wonder that, in the present Situation of Affairs, you
can take Pleasure in writing any thing but News; for in
a Word, who minds any thing else? The Pleasure of
increasing in Knowledge, and learning something new
every Hour of Life, is the noblest Entertainment of a
Rational Creature. I have a very good Ear for a Secret,
and am naturally of a communicative Temper; by which
Means I am capable of doing you great Services in this
way. In order to make my self useful, I am early in the
Antichamber, where I thrust my Head into the thick of
the Press, and catch the News, at the opening of the Door,
while it is warm. Sometimes I stand by the Beef/Eaters,
and take the Buz as it passes by me. At other times I lay
my Ear close to the Wall, and suck in many a valuable
Whisper, as it runs in a streight Line from Corner to
Corner. When I am weary with standing, I repair to
one of the neighbouring Coffee/houses, where I sit some.
times for a whole Day, and have the News as it comes
from Court, fresh and fresh. In short, Sir, I spare no
Pains to know how the World goes. A Piece of News
loses its Flavour when it hath been an Hour in the Air.
I love, if I may so speak, to have it fresh from the Tree;
and to convey it to my Friends before it is faded. Ac.
cordineg my Expences in Coachahire make no small
Article; which you may believe, when I assure you, thai

228 THE SPECTATOR
625.
iii».
I post away from Coffeeahouse to Coffee/house, and fore/
stall the EveningrPost by two Hours. There is a certain
Gentleman, who hath given me the slip twice or thrice,
and hath been before/hand with me at Child's. But I
have played him a Trick. I have purchased a Pair of the
best Coach/horses I could buy for Money, and now let
him out/strip me if he can. Once more, Mr. SPECTATOR,
let me advise you to deal in News. You may depend
upon my Assistance. But I must break off abruptly, for
I have twenty Letters to write.
Yours, in haste,
Tho. Ouidmunc.’
N6. 626. -
Monday, November 29.
—-——-—Dulcique animos novitate tenebo,——Ov. Met. IV.
I HAVE seen a little Work of a learned Man, com
sisting of extemporary Speculations, which owed
their Birth to the most trifling Occurrences of Life. His
usual Method was, to write down any sudden Start of
Thought which arose in his Mind upon the Sight of any
odd Gesticulation in a Man, any whimsical Mimickry of
Reason in a Beast, or whatever appeared remarkable
in any Object of the visible Creation. He was able
to moralize upon a Snuff/Box, would flourish eloquently
upon a Tucker or a Pair of Ruffles, and draw practical
Inferences from a full/bottomed Perriwi . This I thought
fit to mention, by way of Excuse, for my ingenious
Correspondent, who hath introduced the following Letter
by an Image which, I will beg leave to tell him, is too
ridiculous in so serious and noble a Speculation.
- ' Mr. SPECTATOR,
When I have seen young Puss playing her wanton
Gambols, and with a thousand antick Shapes express her
own Gaiety at the same time that she moved mine, while
the old Grannum hath sat by with a most exemplary
Gravity, unmoved at all that past; it hath made me
reflect what should be the Occasion of Humours so
opposite in two Creatures, between whom there was no
visible
THE SPECTATOR 229
visible Difference but that of Age; and I have been able No. 62
to resolve it into nothing else but the Force of Novelty. Manda
In every Species of Creatures, those that have been 17?: 2,
least Time in the World, appear best pleased with their ' ‘
Condition: for, besides that to a new Comer the World
hath a Freshness on it that strikes the Sense after a most
agreeable Manner, Being it self, unattended with any
great Variety of Enjoyments, excites a Sensation of
Pleasure. But as Age advances, every thing seems to
wither, the Senses are disgusted with their old Entertain/
ments, and Existence turns flat and insipid. We may
see this exemplified in Mankind: The Child, let him
be free from Pain, and gratified in his Change of Toys,
is diverted with the smallest Trifle. Nothing disturbs
the Mirth of the Boy but a little Punishment or Confine/
ment. The Youth must have more violent Pleasures to
employ his Time; the Man loves the Hurry of an active
Life, devoted to the Pursuits of Wealth or Ambition;
and Lastly, old Age, having lost its Capacity for these
Avocations, becomes its own insupportable Burthen.
This Variety may in part be accounted for by the
Vivacit and Decay of the Faculties; but I believe
is chie ly owing to this, That the longer we have been
in Possession of Being, the less sensible is the Gust we
have of it, and the more it requires of adventitious
Amusements to relieve us from the Satiety and Weari/
ness it brings along with it.
And as Novelty is of a very powerful, so of a most
extensive Influence. Moralists have long since observed
it to be the Source of Admiration, which lessens in
proportion to our Familiarity with Objects, and upon
a thorough Acquaintance is utterly extinguished. But
I think it hath not been so commonly remarked, that
all the other Passions depend considerably on the same
Circumstance. What is it but Novelty that awakens
Desire, enhances Delight, kindles Anger, provokes
Envy, inspires Horror? To this Cause we must ascribe
it, that Love languishes with Fruition, and Friendship
it self is recommended by Intervals of Absence: Hence
Monsters, by use, are beheld without loathing, and the
most Enchanting Beauty without Rapture. That Emotion
of

230 THE SPECTATOR
.626.
nda ,
v. 2 ,
of the Spirits in which Passion consists, is usually the
Effect of Surprize, and as long as it continues, heightens
the agreeable or disagreeable Qualities of its Object;
but as this Emotion ceases (and it ceases with the
Novelty) things appear in another Light, and affect us
even less than might be expected from their proper
Energy, for having moved us too much before.
It may not be a useless Enquiry, how far the Love
of Novelty is the unavoidable Growth of Nature, and in
what Respects it is peculiarly adapted to the present State.
To me it seems impossible, that a reasonable Creature
should rest absolutely satisfied in any Acquisitions what#
ever, without endeavour' farther; for after its highest
Improvements, the Mind th an Idea of an Infinity of
things still behind worth knowing, to the Knowledge of
which therefore it cannot be indifferent; as by climbing
up a Hill in the midst of a wide Plain, a Man hath his
Prospect enlarged, and, together with that, the bounds
of his Desires. Upon this Account, I cannot think he
detracts from the State of the Blessed, who conceives
them to be perpetually employed in fresh Searches into
Nature, and to Eternity advancing into the fathomless
Depths of the Divine Perfections. In this Thought there
is nothing but what doth Honour to these glorified Spirits;
provided still it be remembred, that their Desire of
more proceeds not from their disrelishing what they
possess; and the Pleasure of a new Enjoyment is not
with them measured by its Novelty (which is a thi
merely foreign and accidental) but by its real intrinsitfi
Value. After an Acquaintance of many thousand Years
with the Works of God, the Beauty and Magnificence of
the Creation fills them with the same pleasing Wonder
and profound Awe, which Adam felt himself seized
with as he first opened his Eyes upon this glorious
Scene. Truth captivates with unborrowed Charms, and
whatever hath once given Satisfaction will always do
it; In all which they have manifestly the Advantage of
us, who are so much governed by sickly and changeable
Appetites, that we can with the greatest Coldness behold
the stupendous Displays of Omnipotence, and be in Trans;
ports at the puny Essays of humane Skill; throw aside
Speculations
THE SPECTATOR 231
Speculations of the sublimest Nature and vastest Import/ No. 626.
ance into some obscure Corner of the Mind, to make M01168;
Room for New Notions of no Consequence at all; are F“ 2 '
even tired of Health, because not enlivened with
alternate Pain, and prefer the first Reading of an
indifferent Author, to the second or third Perusal of
one whose Merit and Reputation are established.
Our Being thus formed serves many useful Purposes
in the present State. It contributes not a little to the
Advancement of Learning; for, as Cicero takes Notice,
That which makes Men willing to undergo the Fatigues
of Philosophical Disquisitions, is not so much the Great/
ness of Obiects as their Novelty. It is not enough that
there is Field and Game for the Chace, and that the
Understanding is prompted with a restless Thirst of
Knowledge, effectually to rouse the Soul, sunk into a
State of Sloth and Indolence; it is also necessary that
there be an uncommon Pleasure annex'd to the first
Appearance of Truth in the Mind. This Pleasure being
exquisite for the Time it lasts, but transient, it hereby
comes to pass that the Mind grows into an Indifference
to its former Notions, and passes on after new Dis/
coveries, in hope of repeating the Delight. It is with
Knowledge as with Wealth, the Pleasure of which lies ‘
more in making endless Additions, than in taking a
Review of our old Store. There are some Incom
veniences that follow this Temper, if not guarded against,
particularly this, that through a too great Eagerness of
something new we are many times impatient of staying
long enough upon a Question that requires some time
to resolve it, or, which is worse, perswade our selves
that we are Masters of the Subject before we are so,
only to be at the Liberty of going upon a fresh Scent;
in Mr. Locke's Words, We see a little, presume a
great deal, and so jump to the Conclusion.
A farther Advantage of our Inclination for Novelty,
as at present circumstantiated, is, that it annihilates all
the boasted Distinctions among Mankind. Look not up
with Envy to those above thee. Sounding Titles, stately
Buildings, fine Gardens, gilded Chariots, rich Equipages,
what are they? They dazzle every one but the Possessolr;
o
232 THE SPECTATOR
OI onda ,
0V: 2 g
To him that is accustomed to them they are cheap
and regardless Things: They supply him not with
brighter Images, or more sublime Satisfactions than
the plain Man may have, whose small Estate will just
enable him to support the Charge of a simple unena
cumber'd Life, He enters heedless into his Rooms of
State, as you or I do under our poor Sheds, The noble
Paintings and costly Furniture are lost on him; he sees
them not: As how can it be otherwise, when, by Custom,
a Fabrick infinitely more grand and finished, that of the
Universe, stands unobserved by the Inhabitants, and the
everlasting Lamps of Heaven are lighted up in vain, for
any Notice that Mortals take of them? Thanks to in,
dulgent Nature, which not only placed her Children
originally upon a Level, but still, by the Strength of this
rinciple, in a great Measure preserves it, in spite of
all the Care of Man, to introduce artificial Distinctions,
To add no more, Is not this Fondness for Novelty,
which makes us out of Conceit with all we already have,
a convincing Proof of a future State? Either Man was
made in vain, or this is not the only World he was made
for: For there cannot be a greater Instance of Vanity,
than that to which Man is liable, to be deluded from the
Cradle to the Grave with fleeting Shadows of Happiness,
His Pleasures, and those not considerable neither, die in
the Possession, and fresh Enjoyments do not rise fast
enough to fill up half his Life with Satisfaction, When
I see Persons sick of themselves any lon er than they
are called away by something that is of orce to chain
down the present Thought; when I see them hurry from
Country to Town, and then from the Town back again
into the Country, continually shifting Postures, and placing
Life in all the different Lights they can think of; Surely,
say I to my self, Life is vain, and the Man beyond
Expression stupid or prefudic’d, who from the Vanity
of Life cannot gather, He is designed for Immortality,’
Wednesday
THE SPECTATOR 233
No. 627. gage?
Wednesday, December 1. day,
Tantum inter densas umbrosa cacumina fagos Dec. 1,
Assidue veniebat; ibi haec incondita solus 1714.
Montibus et silvis studio jactabat inani.——Virg.
THE following Account, which came to my Hands
some time ago, may be no disagreeable Entertain/
ment to such of my Readers, as have tender Hearts and
nothing to do.
’ Mr. SPECTATOR,
A Friend of mine died of a Fever last Week, which he
caught by walking too late in a dewy Evening amongst
his Reapers. Imust inform you that his greatest Plea/
sure was in Husbandry and Gardening. He had some
Humours which seemed inconsistent with that good
Sense he was otherwise Master of. His Uneasiness in
the Company of Women was very remarkable in a Man
of such perfect Good/breeding; and his avoiding one
particular Walk in his Garden, where he had use to pass
the greatest Part of his Time, raised abundance of idle
Conjectures in the Village where he lived. Upon looking
over his Papers we found out the Reason, which he never
intimated to his nearest Friends. He was, it seems, a
passionate Lover in his Youth, of which a large Parcel
of Letters he left behind him are a Witness. I send
you a Copy of the last he ever wrote upon that Subject,
by which you will find that he concealed the true Name
of his Mistress under that of Zelinda.
A long Month’s Absence would be insupportable to
me, if the Business I am employed in were not for the
Service of my Zelinda, and of such a Nature as to place
her every Moment in my Mind. I have furnished the
Ho use exactly according to your Fancy, or, if you
please, my own; for I have long since learned to like
nothing but what you do. The Apartment designed
for your Use is so exact a Copy of that which you live
in, that I often think my self in your House when I
step into it, but sigh when I find it without its proper
Inhabitant. You will have the most delicious Prospect
from
234 THE SPECTATOR
from your Closet/ Window that England affords; I am
sure I should think it so, if the Landskip that shows
such Variety, did not at the same time suggest to me
the Greatness of the Space that lies between us.
The Gardens are laid out very beautifully; I have
dressed up every Hedge in Woodbines, sprinkled
Bowers and Arbours in every Corner, and made a
little Paradise round me; yet I am still like the first
Man in his Solitude, but half blest without a Partner in
my happiness. I have directed one Walk to be made
for two Persons, where I promise ten thousand Satis/ ~
factions to my self in your Conversation. I already
take my Evening's Turn in it. and have worn a Path
upon the Edge of this little Alley, while I soothed my
self with the Thought of your walking by my Side.
I have held many imaginary Discourses with you in
this Retirement; and when I have been weary have
sat down with you in the midst of a Row of ]essamines.
The many Expressions of joy and Rapture I use in
these silent Conversations, have made me for some
Time the Talk of the Parish; buta neighbouring young
Fellow, who makes Love to the Farmer's Daughter, hath
found me out, and made my Case known to the whole
Neighbourhood. '
In planting of the Fruit/ Trees I have not forgot the
Peach you are so fond of I have made a Walk of Elms
along the River Side, and intend to sow all the Place
about it with Cowslips, which I hope you will like as
well as that I have heard you talk of by your Father's
House in the Country. 1
Oh! Zelinda, What a Scheme of Delight have I
drawn up in my Imagination! What Day/dreams do
I indulge my self in! When will the Six Weeks be
at an End, that lye between me and my promised
Happiness 7
How could you break off so abruptly in your last,
and tell me you must go and dress for the Play! If
you loved as I do, you would find no more Company
in a Crowd, than I have in my Solitude.
I am, he.
On
THE SPECTATOR 235
On the Back of this Letter is written, in the Hand of No. 62
the Deceased, the following Piece of History. 32:5!18‘
I
Mem. Having waited a whole Week for an Answer Dec. 1,
to this Letter, I hurried to Town, where I found the 1714-
oerfidious Creature married to my Rival. I will bear
it as becomes a Man, and endeavour to find out Happi/
ness for my self in that Retirement, which I had
prepared in vain for a false ungrateful Woman.
I am, dc.’
No. 628.
Friday, December 3.
Labitur et labetur in omne volubilis aevum.——Hor.
’ Mr. SPECTATOR,
There are none of your Speculations which please
me more than those upon Infinitude and Eternity. You
have already consider’d that Part of Eternity which is
past, and I wish you would give us your Thoughts upon
that which is to come.
Your Readers will perhaps receive greater Pleasure
from this View of Eternity than the former, since we
have every one of us a Concern in that which is to
come: whereas a Speculation on that which is past is
rather curious than useful.
Besides, we can easily conceive it possible for successive
Duration never to have an End; tho' as you have justly
observed, that Eternity which never had a Beginning
is altogether incomprehensible: That is, we can conceive
an Eternal Duration which may be, though we cannot
an Eternal Duration which hath been; or, if I may
use the Philosophical Terms, we may apprehend a
Potential though not an Actual Eternity.
This Notion of a future Eternity, which is natural to
the Mind of Man, is an unanswerable Argument that
he is a Being design’d for it; especially if we consider
that he is capable of being Virtuous or Vicious here; _
that he hath Faculties improvable to all Eternity; and
by a proper or wrong Employment of them may be
happy or miserable throughout that infinite Duration.
Our Idea indeed of this Eternity is not of an adequate
W. 2 M 01‘
236 THE SPECTATOR

. 6-28.
'da ,
Cl 1
or fixed Nature, but is perpetually growing and enlarging
itself toward the Object, which is too big for human
Comprehension. As we are now in the Beginnings of
Existence, so shall we always appear to our selves as if
we were for ever entring upon it. After a Million or
two of Centuries, some considerable Things, already
past, may slip out of our Memory; which, if it be not
strengthened in a wonderful Manner, may possibly
forget that ever there was a Sun or Planets. And yet,
notwithstanding the long Race that we shall then have
run, we shall still imagine our selves just starting from
the Goal, and find no Proportion between that Space
which we know had a Beginning, and what we are sure
will never have an End.
But I shall leave this Subject to your Management,
and question not but you will throw it into such Lights
as shall at once improve and entertain your Reader.
I have enclos'd sent you a Translation of the Speech
of Ca to on this Occasion, which hath accidentally fallen
into my Hands, and which for Conciseness, Purity, and
Elegance of Phrase cannot be sufficiently admired.’
ACT. V. SCEN. I.
CATO solus, Etc.
Sic, sic se habere rem necesse prorsus est,
Ratione vincis, do lubens manus, Plato.
Quid enim dedisset, quae dedit frustra nihil,
fE'ternitatis insitam cupidinem
Natura .’ Ouorsum haec dulcis expectatio;
Vitaeque non explenda melioris sitis .7
Quid vult sibi aliud iste redeundi in nihil
Horror, sub imis quemque agens precordiis
Cur territa in se refugit anima, icur tremit
Attonita, quoties, morte ne pereat. timet.’
Particula nempe est cui ue nascenti indita
Divinior; quae corpus incolens agit;
Hominique succinit, tua est aeternitas.
fE'ternitasl O lubricum nimis aspici,
Mixtumque dulci gaudium formidine!
Ouae demigrabitur alia hinc in corpora 7
Ouae terra mox incognita? Ouis orbzs novus
Manet incolendusi Quanta erit mutatro!
Haec
THE SPECTATOR 237
Haec intuenti spatia mibi quaqua patent No 628
Immensa 1 seal caliginosa no: premit; Fri'da '
Nee luce clara vult videri singula. cc. 1
Figendus bic pes; certa sunt baec bactenusl 1714' '
Si quool gubernet numen humanum genus,
(At, quod gubernet, esse clamant omnia)
Virtute non gaudere certe non potest:
Nec esse non beata, qua gaudet, potest.
Sed qua beata sedel Quove in tempore.’
Haec quanta quanta terra, tota est Caesaris.
Quid dubius baeret animus usque adeo .7 Brevi
Hie nodum bio omnem expediet. Arma en induor.
[Ensi manum admovens.
In utramque partem facta; quaeque vim inferant,
Et quae propulsent! Dextera intentat' necem;
Vitam sinistra : vulnus baec dabit manus I
Alter-a medelam vulneris .' bio ad exitum
Deducet, ictu simplici; baec vetant mori.
Secura ridet anima mucronis minas,
Ensesque strictos, inter-ire nescia.
Extinguet aetas sidera diuturnior:
, fE'tate languens ipse sol, obscurius
Emittet orbi consenescen ti jubar:
Natura et ipsa sentiet quonclam vices
fE'tatis, annis ipsa deficiet gravis :
At tibi iuventus, at tibi immortalitas,
Tibi parta divum est vita. Periment mutuis
Elementa sese, et interibunt ictibus :
Tu permanebis sola semper integra,
Tu cuncta rerum quassa, cuncta naufraga,
jam portu in ipso tuta, contemplabere.
Compage rupta, corruent in se invicem.
Orbesque fractis ingerentur orbibus;
Illaesa tu sedebis extra fragmina.
ACT V. SCENE I.
CATO alone, do.
It must be so Plato, thou reason'st well—~—
Else whence this pleasing Hope, this fond Desire,
This longing after Immortality?
Or whence this secret Dread, and inward Horror,
Of falling into Noughtl Why shrinks the Soul
Back on her self, and startles at Destruction?
'Tis the Divinity that stirs within us;
'Tis Heav'n itself, that points out an Hereafter,
And intimates Eternity to Man.
Eternity! thou pleasing, dreadful, Thought!

Through
238 THE SPECTATOR
Through what Variety of untr 'd Being,
Through what new Scenes and Changes must we pass!
The wide, th’ unbounded Pros ect, lies before me;
But Shadows, Clouds, and Darlfness rest upon it.
Here will I hold. If there's a Pow'r above us,
(And that there is all Nature cries aloud
Throu h all her Works) He must deli ht in Virtue;
And at which he delights in, must e happ .
But when! or where l———-This World was made for Caesar.
I'm weary of Conjectures This must end 'em.
[Laying his Hand on his Sword.
Thus am I doubly arm’d; my Death and Life,
My Bane and Antidote are both before me:
This in a Moment brin s me to an End;
But this informs me I s all never die.
The Soul, secur'd in her Existence, smiles
At the drawn Dagger, and defies its Point.
The Stars shall fade awa , the Sun himself
Grow dim with Age, an Nature sink in Years;
But thou shalt flourish in immortal Youth,
Unhurt amidst the War of Elements,
The Wrecks of Matter and the Crush of Worlds.
No. 629. “

Monday, December 6.
—--Experiar quid concedatur in illos,
Quorum Flaminia tegitur cinis atque Latina—luv.
NEXT to the People who want a Place, there are
none to be pitied more than those who are
solicited for one. A plain Answer, with a Denial in
it, is looked upon as Pride, and a civil Answer as a
Promise.
Nothing is more ridiculous than the Pretensions of
People upon these Occasions. Every thing a Man hath
suffered, whilst his Enemies were in play, was certainly
brought about by the Malice of the opposite Party. A
bad Cause would not have been lost, if such an one
had not been upon the Bench; nor a profligate Youth
disinherited, if he had not got drunk every Night by
toasting an outed Mini try. I remember a Tory, who
having been fined in a Court of Justice for a Prank that
deserved the Pillory, desired upon the Merit of it to be
made a justice of Peace when his Friends came into
Power; and shall never forget a Whig Criminal, who,
upon
THE SPECTATOR 239
upon being indicted for a Rape, told his Friends, You No, 62‘,c
see what a Man suffers for sticking to his Principles, M°fldaf
The Truth of it is, the Sufferings of a Man in a Party 17;? '
are of a very doubtful Nature, When they are such '
as have promoted a good Cause, and fallen upon a Man
undeservedly, they have a Right to be heard and re/
compensed beyond any other Pretensions, But when
they rise out of Rashness or Indiscretion, and the Pur/
suit of such Measures, as have rather ruined, than pro/
moted the Interest they aim at, (which hath always been
the Case of many great Sufferers) they only serve to
recommend them to the Children of Violence or Folly,
I have by me a Bundle of Memorials presented by
several Cavaliers upon the Restauration of K, Charles II,
which may serve, as so many Instances, to our present
Purpose,
Among several Persons and Pretensions recorded by
my Author, he mentions one of a very great Estate, who,
for having roasted an Ox whole, and distributed a Hogs/
head upon K, Charles's Birth'Day, desired to be provided
for, as his Majesty in his great Wisdom shall think fit,
Another put in to be Prince Henry's Governor, for
having dared to drink his Health in the worst of
Times,
A Third petitioned for a Colonel's Commission, for
having Cursed Oliver Cromwell, the Day before his
Death, on a publick Bowling/Green,
But the most whimsical Petition I have met with is
that of B, B, Esq,, who desired the Honour of Knight/
hood, for having Cuckolded Sir T, IV, a notorious
Roundhead,
There is likewise the Petition of one, who, having
let his Beard ow from the Martyrdom of K, Charles
the First, till t e Restauration of K, Charles the Second,
desired, in Consideration thereof, to be made a Privy/
Counsellor,
I must not omit a Memorial setting forth, that the
Memorialist had, with great dispatch, carried a Letter
from a certain Lord to a certain Lord, wherein, as it
afterwards appeared, Measures were concerted for the
Restauration, and without which he verily believes that
haPPY
240 THE SPECTATOR
. 639.
n ay
Ca 6 ,
happy Revolution had never been effected; who there»
upon humbly prays to be made Post/Master/General.
A certain Gentleman, who seems to write with a
great deal of Spirit, and uses the Words Gallantry and
Gentlemandike very often in his Petition, begs that (in
Consideration of his having worn his Hat for ten Years
East in the Loyal Cavalier Cock, to his great Danger and
etriment) he may be made a Captain of the Guards.
I shall close my Account of this Collection of Me/
morials, with the Copy of one Petition at Length, which
I recommend to my Reader as a very valuable Piece.
‘The Petition of E. H. Esq., humbly Shewetb,
That your Petitioner's Father's Brother's Uncle, Colonel
l7. H. lost the Third Finger of his Left Hand at Edge/bill
F' ht.
hat our Petitioner, notwithstandin the Smallness
of his ortune, (he being a younger rother) always
kept Hospitality, and drank Confusion to the Round/
heads in half a Score Bumpers every Sunday in the
Year, as several honest Gentlemen (whose Names are
under/written) are ready to testifie.
That your Petitioner is remarkable in his Country
for having dared to treat Sir P. P. a cursed Sequestrator,
and three Members of the Assembly of Divines, with
Brawn and Mince Pies upon New/ Year’s Day.
That your said humble Petitioner hath been five
times imprisoned in five several County/Goals, for
having been a Ring/leader in five different Riots; into
which his Zeal for the Royal Cause hurried him, when
Men of greater Estates had not the Courage to rise.
That he, the said E. H. hath had six Duels and four
and twenty Boxing/Matches in Defence of his Maiesty's
Title; and that he received such a Blow upon the Head
at a Bonfire in Stratford upon Avon, as he hath been
never the better for from that Day to this.
That your Petitioner hath been so far from improving
his Fortune, in the late damnable times, that he verily
believes, and bath good Reason to imagine, that if he
had been Master of an Estate, he hath infallibly been
plundered and sequestred.
Your
THE SPECTATOR 241
Your Petitioner, in Consideration of his said Merits No. 625
and Sufferings, humbly requests that he may have the M01141“
Place of Receiver of the Taxes, Collector of the Customs, 173' 6'
Clerk of the Peace, Deputy Lieutenant, or whatsoever '
else he shall be thought qualified for.
And your Petitioner shall ever pray, fic.’
No. 630.
Wednesday, December 8.
.—Hor.
I IAVING no spare Time to write any thing of my
own, or to correct what is sent me by others, I
have thought fit to publish the following Letters.
‘Sir, I Oxford, No vemb. 22.
If you would be so kind to me, as to suspend that
Satisfaction, which the Learned World must receive in
reading one of your Speculations, by publishing this Em
deavour, you will very much oblige and improve one
who has the Boldness to hope, that he may be admitted
into the number of your Correspondents.
I have often wondered to hear Men of good Sense
and good Nature profess a Dislike to Musick, when, at
the same time, they do not scruple to own, that it has
the most agreeable and improving Influences over their
Minds: It seems to me an unhappy Contradiction, that
those Persons should have an Indifference for an Art,
which raises in them such a Variety of sublime
Pleasures.
However, though some few, by their own or the
unreasonable Prejudices of others, may be led into a
Distaste for those Musical Societies which are erected
meerly for Entertainment, yet sure I may venture to
say, that no one can have the least Reason for Disaffec/
tion to that solemn kind of Melody which consists of
the Praises of our Creator.
You have, I persume, already prevented me in an
Argument upon this Occasion (which some Divines
have successfully advanced upon a much greater) that
Musical Sacrifice and Adoration has claimed a Place in
the Laws and Customs of the most different Nations:
' As

Fa vete linguis
242 THE SPECTATOR
As the Grecians and Romans of the Prophane, the jews
and Christians of the Sacred World did as unanimously
agree in this, as they disagreed in all other Parts of
their OEconomy.
I know there are not wanting some who are of
Opinion that the pompous kind of Musick which is in
Use in foreign Churches is the most excellent, as it
most affects our Senses. But I am swayed by my Iudg»
ment to the Modesty which is observed in the musical
Part of. our Devotions. Methinks there is something
very laudable in the Custom of a Voluntary before the
first Lesson; by this we are supposed to be prepared
for the Admission of those Divine Truths, which we
are shortly to receive. We are then to cast all worldly
Regards from off our Hearts, all Tumults within are
then becalmed, and there should be nothing near the
Soul but Peace and Tranquility. So that in this short
Office of Praise, the Man is raised above himself, and is
almost lost already amidst the joys of Futurity.
I have heard some nice Observers frequently coma
mend the Policy of our Church in this Particular, that
it leads us on by such easie and regular Methods, that
we are perfectly deceived into Piety. When the Spirits
begin to languish (as they too often do) with a constant
Series of Petitions, she takes care to allow them a pious
Respite, and relieves them with the Raptures of an
Anthem. Nor can we doubt that the sublimest Poetry,
softned in the most moving Strains of Musick, can
ever fail of humbling or exalting the Soul to any Pitch
of Devotion. Who can hear the Terrors of the Lord
of Hosts described in the most expressive Melody with;
out being awed into a Veneration? Or who can hear
the kind and endearing Attributes of a merciful Father,
and not to be softned into Love towards him?
As the rising and sinking of the Passions, the caste
ing soft or noble Hints into the Soul, is the natural
Privilege of Musick in general, so more particularly of
that kind which is employed at the Altar. Those Im/
pressions which it leaves upon the Spirits are more
deep and lasting as the Grounds from which it receives
its Authority are founded more upon Reason. It diffuses
a
THE SPECTATOR 243
a Galmness all around us, it makes us drop all those No. 630
vain or immodest Thoughts which would be an hind/ Wedfles
rance to us in the Performance of that great Duty gag:
of Thanksgiving, which, as we are informed by our 1714', '
Almighty Benefactor, is the most acceptable Return
which can be made for those infinite Stores of Blessings
which he daily condescends to pour down upon his
Creatures. When we make Use of this pathetical Method
of addressing our selves to him, we can scarce contain
from Raptures! The Heart is warmed with a Sublimity
of Goodness! We are all Piety and all Love!
How do the Blessed Spirits rejoice and wonder to
behold unthinking Man prostrating his Soul to his dread
Sovereign in such a Warmth of Piety as they themselves
might not be ashamed of I
I shall close these Reflections with a Passage taken out
of the Third Book of Milton's Paradise Lost, where those
harmonious Beings are thus nobly described.
Then Crown 'd again their Gold’n Harps they took,
Harps ever tun ’d. that glittering b 7 their side
Like Quivers hung, and with Preamble sweet
Of Charming Symphony they introduce
The Sacred Song. and wahen Raptures high,
No one exempt, no Voice but well could join
Melodious part, such Concord is in Heav’n.’
‘Mr. SPECTATOR,
The Town cannot be unacquainted, that in divers Parts
of it there are vociferous Setts Of Men who are called
Rattling Clubs; but what shocks me most is, they have
now the Front to invade the Church and institute these
Societies there, as a Clan of them have in late times done,
to such a degree Of Insolence, as has given the Partition
where they reside in a Church near one of the City
Gates, the Denomination of the Rattling Pew. These
ay Fellows, from humble lay Professions, set up for
riticks without any Tincture of Letters or Reading, and
have the Vanity to think they can lay hold of something
from the Parson, which may be formed into Ridicule.
It is needless to Observe, that the Gentlemen who
every Sunday have the hard Province of Instructing
these
244 THE SPECTATOR
. 630.
ednes/
Y!
C! 8|
these Wretches in a way they are in no present Dis!
position to take, have a fixt Character for Learning and
Eloquence, not to be tainted by the weak Efforts of this
Contemptible Part of their Audiences. Whether the
Pulpit is taken by these Gentlemen, or any Strangers
their Friends, the way of the Club is this: If any
Sentiments are delivered too Sublime for their Con.
ception; if any uncommon Topick is entred on, or
one in use new modified with the finest judgment and
Dexterity; or any controverted Point be never so
elegantly handled; In short, whatever surpasses the
narrow Limits of their Theology, or is not suited to
their Taste, they are all immediately upon their Watch,
fixing their Eyes upon each other, with as much Warmth
as our Gladiators of Hockley in the Hole, and waiting
like them for a Hit; if one touches, all take Fire, and
their Noddles instantly meet in the Centre of the Pew;
then, as by beat of Drum, with exact Discipline, they
rear up into a full length of Stature, and with odd Looks
and Gesticulations confer together in so loud and
clamorous a manner, continued to the close of the
Discourse, and during the After/Psalm, as is not to be
silenced but by the Bells. Nor does this suffice them,
without aiming to propagate their Noise through all the
Church, by Signals given to the adjoining Seats, where
others designed for this Fraternity are sometimes placed
upon Tryal to receive them.
The Folly as well as Rudeness of this Practice is in
nothing more conspicuous than this, that all that follows
in the Sermon is lost; for whenever our Sparks take
alarm, they blaze out and grow so Tumultuous, that no
After/Explanation can avail, it being impossible for them/
selves or any near them to give an Account thereof.
If any thing really Novel is advanced, how averse soever
it may be to their way of thinking, to say nothing of
Duty, Men of less Levity than these would be led by a
natural Curiosity to hear the whole.
Laughter, where things Sacred are transacted, is far
less pardonable than Whining at a Conventicle; the last
has at least a Semblance of Grace, and where the
Affectation is unseen may possibly imprint wholesome
Lessons
THE SPECTATOR 245
Lessons on the Sincere; but the first has no Excuse, No; 63
breaking through all the Rules of Order and Decency, wean
and manifesting a Remissness of Mind in those im/ Dag
sportant Matters which require the strictest Composure1714', '
and Steadiness of Thought; A Proof of the greatest
Folly in the World.
I shall not here enter upon the Veneration due to the
Sanctity of the Place, the Reverence owing the Minister,
or the Respect that so great an Assembly as a whole
Parish may justly claim. I shall only tell them, that
as the Spanish Cobler, to reclaim a profligate Son, bid
him have some regard to the Dignity of his Family;
so they as Gentlemen (for we Citizens assume to be
such one Day in a Week,) are bound for the future
to repent of, and abstain from the gross Abuses here
mentioned, whereof they have been Guilty in Contempt
of Heaven and Earth, and contrary to the Laws in this
Case made and provided.
I am! Sir;
Your very humble Servan t.
I
No. 631.
Friday, December 10.

Simplex mundi " .——Hor.
HAD occasion to go a few Miles out of Town,
some Days since, in a Stage/Coach, where I had
for my Fellow/Travellers a dirty Beau, and a pretty
young Quaker Woman. Having no Inclination to Talk
much at that time, I placed my self backward, with a
design to survey them, and pick a Speculation out of
my two Companions. Their different Figures were
sufficient of themselves to draw my Attention. The
Gentleman was dressed in a Suit, the Ground whereof
had been Black, as I perceived from some few Spaces,
that had escaped the Powder, which was Incorporated
with the greatest part of his Coat: His Periwig, which
cost no small Sum, was after so Slovenly a manner
cast over his Shoulders, that it seemed not to have
been combed since the Year 1712 ’; his Linnen, which
was not much concealed, was daubed with plain Spanish
from
246 THE SPECTATOR
631, from the Chin to the lowest Button, and the Diamond
dav, upon his Finger (which naturally dreaded the Water)
5‘ 10' put me in mind how it sparkled amidst the Rubbish of
, ' the Mine, where it was first discovered, On the other
hand, the pretty Quaker appeared in all the Elegance
of Cleanliness, Not a Speck was to be found on her,
A clear, clean oval Face, just edged about with little
thin Plaits of the purest Cambrick, received great Adv
vantages from the Shade of her black Hood; as did the
Whiteness of her Arms from that sober coloured Stuff,
in which she had Cloathed her self, The Plainness of
her Dress was very well suited to the Simplicity of her
Phrases; all which put together, though they could not
give me a great Opinion of her Religion, they did of
her Innocence,
This Adventure occasioned my throwing together a
few Hints upon Cleanliness, which I shall consider as
one of the Half/ Virtues, as Aristotle calls them, and
shall recommend it under the three following Heads, As
it is a Mark of Politeness; as it is produces Love; and as
it bears Analogy to Purity of Mind,
First, It is a Mark of Politeness, It is universally
agreed upon, that no one, unadorn'd with this Virtue,
can go into Company without giving a manifest Offence,
The easier or higher any one’s Fortune is, this Duty
rises proportionably, The different Nations of the
World are as much distinguished by their Cleanliness,
as by their Arts and Sciences, The more any Country
is civilized, the more they consult this part of Politeness,
We need but compare our Ideas of a Female Hottentot
and an English Beauty, to be satisfied of the Truth of
what hath been advanced,
In the next Place, Cleanliness may be said to be the
Foster/Mother of Love, Beauty indeed most commonly
produces that Passion in the Mind, but Cleanliness pre/
serves it, An indifferent Face and Person, kept in perv
petual Neatness, hath won many a Heart from a pretty
Slattern, Age it self is not unamiable, while it is preserved
clean and unsullied: Like a Piece of Metal constantly
kept smooth and bright, we look on it with more Pleasure
than on a 'new Vessel that is canker'd with Rust,
THE SPECTATOR
247 ‘
several Vices, destructive both to Mind and Body, are
inconsistent with the Habit of it. But these Reflections
I shall leave to the Leisure of my Readers, and shall
observe in the Third Place, That it bears a great Analogy
with Purity of Mind, and naturally inspires refined
Sentiments and Passions.
We find from Experience, that throu h the Prevalence
of Custom, the most vicious Actions ose their Horror,
by being made familiar to us. On the contrary, those
who live in the Neighbourhood of good Examples, fly
from the first Appearances of what is shocking. It fares
with us much after the same Manner, as to our Ideas.
- Our Senses, which are the Inlets to all the Images
conveyed to the Mind, can only transmit the Impression
of such things as usually surround them. So that pure
and unsullied Thoughts are naturally suggested to the
Mind, by those Objects that perpetually encompass us,
when they are beautiful and elegant in their Kind.
' In the East, where the Warmth of the Climate makes
Cleanliness more immediately necessary than in colder
Countries, it is made one Part of their Religion: The
[ewisb Law (and the Mahometan, which in some
Things copies after it) is filled with Bathings, Purifica/
tions, and other Rites of the like Nature. Though there
is the above/named convenient Reason to be assigned
for these Ceremonies, the chief Intention undoubtedly
was to typifie inward Purity and Cleanness of Heart
by those outward Washings. We read several Injunc/
tions of this Kind in the Book of Deuteronomy, which
confirm this Truth; and which are but ill accounted for
by saying, as some do, that they were only instituted
for convenience in the Desart, which otherwise could
not have been habitable for so many Years.
I shall conclude this Essay, with a Story which I '
have somewhere read 'in an Account of Mahometan
Superstitions.
A Dervise of great Sanctity one Morning had the
Misfortune as he took up a Chrystal Cup, which was
consecrated
I might observe farther, that as. Cleanliness renders No, 63
us agreeable to others, so it makes us easie to our selves; Frid
that it is an excellent Preservative of Health; and that
rel
I

248 THE SPECTATOR
consecrated to the Prophet, to let it fall upon the Ground,
and dash it in Pieces. His Son coming in, some time
after, he stretched out his Hands to bless him, as his
manner was every Morning; but the Youth going out,
stumbled over the Threshold and broke his Arm,
the old Man wondered at these Events, a Caravan
passed by in its way from Mecca. The Dervise
approached it to beg a Blessing; but as he stroaked one
of the Holy Camels, he received a Kick from the Beast,
that sorely bruised him, His Sorrow and Amasement
increased upon him, till he recollected that through Hurry
and Inadvertency he had that Morning come abroad
without washing his Hands. .
No. 632.
Monday, December 13,
-—-—Explebo numerum, reddarque tenebris.——Virg.
HE Love of Symmetry and Order, which is natural
to the Mind of Man, betrays him sometimes into
very whimsical Fancies. This noble Principle, says a
French Author, loves to amuse itself on the most
trifling Occasions. You may see a profound Pbilo»
sopher, says he, walk for an Hour together in his
Chamber, and industriously treading, at every Step,
upon every other Board in the Flooring. Every Reader
will recollect several Instances of this Nature without my
Assistance, I think it was Gregorio Leti who had
published as many Books as he was Years old; which
was a Rule he had laid down and punctually observed,
to the Year of his Death. It was, perhaps, a Thought of
the like Nature which determined Homer himself to
divide each of his Poems into as many Books, as there
are Letters in the Greek Alphabet, Herodotus has in
the same manner adapted his Books to the Number of
the Muses, for which Reason many a Learned Man
'hath wished there had been more than Nine of that
Sisterhood.
Several Epic Poets have religiously followed Virgil as
to the Number of his Books; and even Milton is thought
by many to have changed the Number of his Books frromi
.j_ . . en
THE SPECTATOR 249
Ten to Twelve, for no other Reason; as Cowley tells us, No. 632.
it was his Design, had he finished his Davideis, to have M°fldaY
also imitated the fEneid in this Particular. I believe every 17?: '
one will agree with me, that a Perfection of this Nature ' '
hath no Foundation in Reason; and, with due Respect to
these great Names, may be looked upon as something
whimsical.
I mention these great Examples in Defence of my
Bookseller, who occasioned this Eighth Volume of Spec/
tators, because, as he said, he thought Seven a very Odd
Number. On the other Side, several grave Reasons were
urged on this important Subject; as in particular, that
Seven was the precise Number of the Wise Men, and
that the most Beautiful Constellation in the Heavens was
composed of Seven Stars. This he allowed to be true;
but still insisted, that Seven was an Odd Number; sug/
gesting at the same time, that if he were provided with a
sufficient Stock of leading Papers, he should find Friends
ready enough to carry on the Work. Having by this
means got his Vessel launched and set afloat, he hath
committed the Steerage of it, from time to time, to such as
he thought capable of conducting it.
' The Close of this Volume, which the Town may now
expect in a little time, may possibly ascribe each Sheet to
its proper Author. '
It were no hard Task to continue this Paper a consider»
able Time longer, by the Help of large Contributions sent
from unknown Hands.
I cannot give the Town a better Opinion of the
SPEcTAToR's Correspondents, than by publishing the follow;
ing Letter, with a very fine Copy of Verses upon a Subject
perfectly new.
1 Mr. SPECTATOR, Buzz... Nov. 30. 1714.
You lately recommended to your Female Readers, the
good old Custom of their Grandmothers, who used to
lay out a great Part of their Time in Needle/work: I
entirely agree with you in your Sentiments, and think it
would not be of less Advantage to themselves, and their
Posterity, than to the Reputation of many of their good
Neighbours, if they past many of those Hours in this in/
nocent
250 THE SPECTATOR

nocent Entertainment, which are lost at the Tea/Table.
I would, however, humbly offer to your Consideration,
the Case of the Poetical Ladies; who, though they may
be willing to take any Advice given them by the
SPECTATOR, yet can't so easily quit their Pen and Ink,
as you may imagine. Pray allow them, at least now
and then, to indulge themselves in other Amusements of
Fancy, when they are tired with stooping to their Tapestry.
There is a very particular kind of Work, which of late
several Ladies here in our Kingdom are very fond Of,
which seems very well adapted to a Poetical Genius: It
is the making of Grottos. I know a Lady who has a
very Beautiful one, composed by her self, nor is there
one Shell in it not stuck up by her own Hands. I here
send you a Poem to the fair Architect, which I would not
Offer to herself, till I knew whether this Method of a
Lady's passing her Time, were approv'd of by the British
SPECTATOR, which, with the Poem, Isubmit to your Censure,
who am,
Your Constant Reader,
and Humble Servant.
All Bl,
To Mrs. on her Grotto.
A Grotto so com plea t, with such Design,
What Hands, Calypso, cou'd have form’d but Thine 7
Each chequer'd Pebble, and each shining Shell,
So well proportion 'd, and dispos'd so well,
Surprizing Lustre from thy Thought receive,
Assuming Beauties more than Nature gave.
To Her their various Shapes, and glossy Hue,
Their curious Symmetry they owe to You.
Not fam’d Amphion's Lute, whose pow’rful Call }

Made willing Stones dance to the Theban Wall,
In more harmonious Ranks cou'd make them fall.
Not Ev'ning Cloud a brighter Arch can shew,
Nor richer Colours paint the heav’nly Bow.
Where can unpolished Nature boast a Piece,
In all her Mossie Cells exact as This 7
At the gay parti/colour’d Scene we start,
For Chance too regular, too rude for Art.
Charm’d
THE SPECTATOR 251
Charm 'd with the sight, my ra vish'd Breast is N°,, 63
fir'd Manda
IVith Hints like those which ancient Bards inspir’d ,r Dec; 133
All the feign 21 Tales by Superstition told, 171?;
All the bright Train of fabled Nymphs of Old,
Th’ enthusiastick Muse believes are true,
Thinks the Spot sacred, and its Genius You.
Lost in Wild Rapture, wou'd she fain disclose,
How by degrees the pleasing Wonder rose :
Industrious in a faithful Verse to trace
The various Beauties of the lovely Place :
And while she keeps the glowing Work in view,
Thro' ev’ry Maze thy artful Hand pursue.
Oh were I equal to the bold Design,
Or cou'd l boast such happy Art as Thine!
That cou'd rude Shells in such sweet Order place,
Give common Objects such uncommon Grace!
Like them my well chose Words in ev’ry Line,
As sweetly temper’d, shou'd as sweetly shine.
So just a Fancy shou'd my Numbers warm,
Like the gay Piece shou'd the Description charm.
Then with superior Strength my Voice I'd raise,
The echoing Grotto shou’d approve my Lays,
Pleas’d to reflect the well/sung Founder's Praise.
N04 - '-
. Wednesday, December 15. ‘
Omnia profecto, cum se a caelestibus rebus referet ad humanas,
exce1s1us magnificentzusque d dicet d sentiet.—Cicer.
' I ‘HE following Discourse is printed, as it came to my
Hands, without Variation.
' Cambridge, Dec. 12.
It was a very common Enquiry among the Ancients
why the Number of excellent Orators, under all the
Encouragements the most flourishing States could
give them, fell so far short of the Number of those
who excelled in all other Sciences. A Friend of mine
used merrily to apply to this Case an Observation of
IV. 2 N Herodotus
252 THE SPECTATOR
633.
draw
I
C: 15'

Herodotus, who says, That the most useful Animals are
the most fruitful in their Generation; whereas the
Species of those Beasts that are fierce and mischievous
to Mankind are but scarcely continued. The Historian
instances in a Hare, which always either breeds or brings
forth; and a Lioness, which brings forth but once,
and then loses all Power of Conception. But, leaving
my Friend to his Mirth, I am of Opinion, that in these
latter Ages we have greater Cause of Complaint than the
Ancients had. And since that solemn Festival is ap/
proaching, which calls for all the Power of Oratory, and
which affords as noble a Sub'ect for the Pulpit as any
Revelation has taught us, the esign of this Paper shall
be to show, that our Moderns have greater Advantages
towards true and solid Eloquence, than any which the
celebrated Speakers of Antiquity enjoy’d.
The first great and substantial Difference is, that their
common Places, in which almost the whole Force of
Amplification consists, were drawn from the Profit or
Honesty of the Action, as they regarded only this present
State of Duration. But Christianity, as it exalts Morality
to a greater Perfection, as it brings the Consideration of
another Life into the Question, as it proposes Rewards
and Punishments of a higher Nature, and a longer Con/
tinuance, is more adapted to affect the Minds of the
Audience, naturally inclin'd to pursue what it imagines
its greatest Interest and Concern. If Pericles, as His/
torians report, could shake the firmest Resolutions of his
Hearers, and set the Passions of all Greece in a Ferment,
when the present Welfare of his Country, or the Fear of
hostile Invasions, was the Subject: What may be expected
from that Orator, who warns his Audience against those
Evils which have no Remedy, when once undergone,
either from Prudence or Time. As much greater as
the Evils in a future State are than these at present, so
much are the Motives to Persuasion under Christianity
greater than those which meer moral Considerations
could supply us with. But what I now mention relates
only to the Power of moving the Affections. There is
another Part of Eloquence, which is indeed its Masters
piece; I mean the Marvellous or Sublime. In this the
Christian
I
THE SPECTATOR 253
Christian Orator has the Advantage beyond Contradic/ NO- 63
tion, Our Ideas are so infinitely enlarged by Revelation, Wednes
the Eye of Reason has so wide a Prospect into Eternity, DZ: 15,
the Notions of a Deity are so worthy and refin’d, and 1714,
the Accounts we have of a State of Happiness or Misery
so clear and evident, that the Contemplation of such
Objects will give our Discourse a noble Vigour, an inv
vincible Force, beyond the Power of any Human Con"
sideration, Tully requires in his Perfect Orator some
Skill in the Nature of Heavenly Bodies, because, says he,
his Mind will become more extensive and unconfin’d;
and when he descends to treat of human Affairs, he will
both think and write in a more exalted and magnificent
manner, For the same Reason that excellent Master
would have recommended the Study of those great and
glorious Mysteries which Revelation has discovered to us;
to which the noblest Parts of this System of the World
are as much inferior, as the Creature is less excellent
than its Creator, The wisest and most knowing among
the Heathens had very poor and imperfect Notions of a
future State, They had indeed some uncertain Hopes,
either received by Tradition, or gathered by Reason, that
the Existence of virtuous Men would not be determined
by the Separation of Soul and Body: But they either
disbelieved a future State of Punishment and Misery, or,
upon the same Account that A pelles painted An tigonus
with one Side only towards the Spectator, that the Loss
of his Eye might not cast a Blemish upon the whole
Piece; so these represented the Condition of Man in its
fairest View, and endeavoured to conceal what they
thought was a Deformity to human Nature, I have often
observed, that whenever the abovemention'd Orator in
his Philosophical Discourses is led by his Argument to
the Mention of Immortality, he seems like one awak'd
out of Sleep, rous’d and alarm'd with the Dignity of
the Subject, he stretches his Imagination to conceive
something uncommon, and with the Greatness of his
Thoughts, casts, as it were, a Glory round the Sentence:
Uncertain and unsettled as he was, he seems fired with
the Contemplation of it: And nothing but such a Glorious
Prospect could have forced so great a Lover of Truth,
as
254 THE SPECTATOR
. 633.
ednesv
e. 15,
i
as he was, to declare his Resolution never to part with
his Persuasion of Immortality, though it should be proved
to be an erroneous one. But had he lived to see all that
Christianity has brought to Light how would he have
lavished out all the Force of Eloquence in those noblest
Contemplations which humane Nature is capable of, the
Resurrection and the Judgment that follows it? How had
his Breast glow'd with Pleasure, when the whole Com/
pass of Futurity lay open and exposed to his View?
How would his Imagination have hurried him on in
the Pursuit of the Mysteries of the Incarnation? How
would he have enter'd, with the Force of Lightning, into
the Affections of his Hearers, and fixed their Attention,
in spite of all the Opposition of corrupt Nature, upon
those glorious Themes, which his Eloquence hath
painted in such lively and lasting Colours?
This Advantage Christians have; and it was with no
small Pleasure I lately met with a Fragment of Longinus,
which is preserved, as a Testimony of that Critick’s
Judgment, at the Beginning of a Manuscript of the New
Testament in the Vatican Library. After that Author
has number'd up the most celebrated Orators among
the Grecians, he says, Add to these Paul of Tarsus,
the Patron of an Opinion not yet fully proved. As a
Heathen, he condemns the Christian Religion; and, as
an impartial Critick, he iudges in Favour of the Promoter
and Preacher of it. To me it seems, that the latter Part
of his Judgment adds great Weight to his Opinion of St.
Paul’s Abilities, since, under all the Prejudice of Opinions
directly opposite, he is constrained to acknowledge the
Merit of that Apostle. And, no doubt, such as Longinus
describes St. Paul, such he appeared to the Inhabitants
of those Countries which he visited and blessed with
those Doctrines he was divinely commissioned to preach.
Sacred Story gives us, in one Circumstance, a con.
vincing Proof of his Eloquence, when the Men of
Lystra called him Mercury, because he was the chief
Speaker, and would have paid Divine Worship to him
as to the God who invented and presided over Elo.
quence. This one Account of our Apostle sets his
Character. considered as an Orator only, above all the
celebrated
THE SPECTATOR 255
celebrated Relations of the Skill and Influence of De/ No. 63%
mosthenes and his Contemporaries, Their Power in Wed“
Speaking was admired, but still it was thou ht human: gt? ,5
Their Eloquence warmed and ravished the I-learers, but 1714:
still it was thought the Voice of Man, not the Voice of
God. What Advantage then had St. Paul above those
of Greece or Rome 2 I confess I can ascribe this By
cellence to nothing but the Power of the Doctrines he
delivered, which may have still the same Influence on the
Hearers; which have still the Power, when preached by
a skilful Orator, to make us break out in the same Ev
pressions as the Disciples who met our Saviour in their
Way to Emmaus made use of; Did not our Hearts burn
within us, when he talked to us by the Way, and while
he opened to us the Scriptures 7 I may be thought
bold in my Judgment by some; butI must affirm, That
no one Orator has left us so visible Marks and Footsteps
of his Eloquence as our Apostle, It may perhaps be
wondered at, that in his Reasonings upon Idolatry at
Athens, where Eloquence was born and flourished, he
confines himself to strict Argument only; but my
' Reader may remember what many Authors of the
best Credit have assured us, That all Attempts upon
the Affections and Strokes of Oratory were expressly
forbidden, by the Laws of that Country, in Courts of
Judicature. His want of Eloquence therefore here, was
the Effect of his exact Conformity to the Laws: But
his Discourse on the Resurrection to the Corinthians,
his Harangue before Agrippa upon his own Conversion
and the Necessity of that of others, are truly Great, and
may serve as full Examples to those excellent Rules
for the Sublime, which the best of Criticks has left us,
The Sum of all this Discourse is. That our Clergy have
no farther to. look for an Example of the Perfection they
may arrive at, than to St. Pa uI’s Harangues; that when
he, under the Want of several Advantages of Nature (as
he himself tells us) was heard, admired, and made a
Standard to succeeding Ages by the best Judge of a
different Persuasion in Religion: I say, our Clergy may
learn, That, however instructive their Sermons are, they
are capable of receiving a great Addition; which St. Paul
has
256 THE SPECTATOR

633.
dnes/
. 15,
has given them a noble Example of, and the Christian
Religion has furnished them with certain Means of
attaining to.’
No. 634.
Friday, December 17.
‘O ataxia-er Seduevos Hymn-Tu. 9e6v.——Socrates apud Xen.
IT was the common Boast of the Heathen Philosophers,
that by the Efficacy of their several Doctrines, they
made Humane Nature resemble the Divine. How
much mistaken soever they might be in the several
Means they proposed for this End, it must be owned
that the Design was great and glorious. The finest
Works of Invention and Imagination are of very little
Weight, when put in the balance with what refines and
exalts the rational Mind. Lonan us‘excuses Homer very
handsomely, when he says the Poet made his Gods like
Men, that he might make his Men appear like the Gods:
But it must be allowed that several of the ancient
Philosophers acted, as Cicero wishes Homer had done;
they endeavoured rather to make Men like Gods, than "
. Gods like Men.
According to this general Maxim in Philosophy, some
of them have endeavoured to place Men in such a State
of Pleasure, or Indolence at least, as they vainly imagined
the Happiness of the Supreme Being to consist in. On
the other Hand, the most virtuous Sect of PhiloSophers
have created a chimerical Wise Man, whom they made
exempt from Passion and Pain, and thought it enough
to ronounce him All/sufficient.
his last Character, when Divested of the Glare ol
Humane Philosophy that surrounds it, signifies no more,
than that a Good and a Wise Man should so arm him/
self with Patience, as not to yield tamely to the Violence
of Passion and Pain; that he should learn so to suppress
and contract his Desires as to have few Wants; and that
he should cherish so man Virtues in his Soul, as to
have a perpetual Scource of leasure in Himself.
The Christian Religion requires, that, after having
framed the best Idea, we are able, of the Divine Nature,
it
THE SPECTATOR 257
I
it should be our next Care to conform our selves to it No. 63;
as far as our Imperfections will permit. I might mention Friday"
several Passages in the Sacred Writings on this Head, 7
to which I might add many Maxims and wise Sayings ' ‘
of Moral Authors among the Greeks and Romans.
I shall only instance a remarkable Passage, to this
Purpose, out of julian's Caesars. That Emperor having
represented all the Roman Emperors, with Alexander
the Great, as passing in Review before the Gods, and
striving for the Superiority, lets them all drop, except!
ing Alexander, julius Caesar, Augustus Caesar, Trajan,
Marcus Aurelius, and Constantine. Each of these great
Heroes of Antiquity lays in his claim for the upper
Place; and, in Order to it, sets forth his Actions after
the most advantageous Manner. But the Gods, instead
of being dazzled with the Lustre of their Actions, enquire,
by Mercury, into the proper Motive and Governing
Principle that influenced them throughout the whole
Series of their Lives and Exploits. Alexander tells
them, That his Aim was to conquer; [ulius Caesar,
That his was to gain the highest Post in his Country;
" Augustus, To govern well; Trajan, That His was the
same as that of Alexander, namely, To conquer. The
Question, at length, was put to Marcus Aurelius, who
replied, with great Modesty, That it had always been
his Care to imitate the Gods. This Conduct seems to
have gained him the most Votes and best Place in the
~ whole Assembly. Marcus Aurelius being afterwards
asked to explain himself, declares, That, by imitating
the Gods, he endeavoured to imitate them in the Use
of his Understanding, and of all other Faculties; and,
in particular, That it was always his Study to have as
few Wants as possible in himself, and to do all the
Good he could to others.
Among the many Methods by which Revealed Rev
ligion has advanced Morality, this is one. That it has
given us a more just and perfect Idea of that Being
whom every reasonable Creature ought to imitate.
The Young Man, in a Heathen Comedy, might justify
his Lewdness by the Example of jupiter; as, indeed,
there was scarce any Crime that might not be counte/
nanced '
258 THE SPECTATOR
634.
av
. 17',
nanced by those Notions of the Deity which prevailed
among the common People in the Heathen World.
Revealed Religion sets forth a proper Object for Imitaw
tion, in that Being who is the Pattern, as well as
the Source, of all Spiritual Perfection.
While we remain in this Life, we are subject to
innumerable Temptations, which, if listen'd to, will
make us deviate from Reason and Goodness, the only
Things wherein we can imitate the Supreme Being.
In the next Life we meet with nothing to excite our
Inclinations that doth not deserve them. I shall there,
fore dismiss my Reader with this Maxim, viz. Our
Happiness in this World proceeds from the S uppres/
sion of our Desires, but in the next World from the
Gratification of them.
No. 635.
Monday, December 20.
Sentio te sedem etiam nunc hominum ac domum contemplari:
quae si tibi parva, ut est, ita videtur, haec caelestia semper
spectato; Illa humana contemnito.—-—Cicero, Somn. 8:21)).
THE following Essay comes from the ingenious
Author of the Letter upon Novelty, printed in
a late Spectator; The Notions are drawn from the
Pla tonick way of Thinking, but as they contribute to
raise the Mind, and may inspire noble Sentiments of
our own future Grandeur and Happiness, I think it
well deserves to be presented to the Publick.
If the Universe be the Creature of an intelligent Mind,
this Mind could have no immediate Regard to him self
in producing it. He needed not to make Trial of
his Omnipotence, to be informed what Effects were
within its Reach: The World as existing in his eternal
Idea was then as beautiful as now it is drawn forth into
Being; and in the immense Abyss of his Essence are
contained far brighter Scenes than will be ever set forth
to View; it being impossible that the great Author of
Nature should bound his own Power by giving Exist/
ence to a System of Creatures so perfect that he cannot
improve upon it by any other Exertions of his Almig‘slaty
ill
0
THE SPECTATOR 259
Will. Between Finite and Infinite there is an unmeasured No. 635.
Interval, not to be filled up in endless A es; for which Mondag
Reason, the most excellent of all God's orks must be equally short of what his Power is able to produce as the
most imperfect, and may be exceeded with the same Ease.
This Thought hath made some imagine (what, it must
be confest, is not impossible) that the unfathomed Space
is ever teeming with new Births, the younger still im
heriting a greater Perfection than the elder. But as this
doth not fall within my present View, I shall content my
self with taking Notice, that the Consideration now
mentioned proves undeniably, that the Ideal Worlds in
the Divine Understanding yield a Prospect incomparably
more ample, various and delightful than any Created
World can do: And that therefore as it is not to be
supposed that God should make a World merely of in!
animate Matter, however diversified; or inhabited only
by Creatures of no higher an Order than Brutes; so the
End for which he designed his reasonable Offspring is
the Contemplation of his Works, the Enjoyment of him!
self, and in both to be happy; having, to this Purpose,
‘endowed them with correspondent Faculties and Desires.
He can have no greater Pleasure from a bare Review of
his Works, than from the Survey of his own Ideas, but
we may be assured that he is well pleased in the Satis/
faction derived to Beings capable of it, and, for whose
Entertainment, he hath erected this immense Theatre.
Is not this more than an Intimation of our Immortality?
Man, who when considered as on his probation for a
happy Existence hereafter is the most remarkable Instance
of Divine Wisdom, if we cut him off from all Relation to
Eternity, is the most wonderful and unaccountable Com»
position in the whole Creation. He hath Capacities to
lodge a much greater Variety of Knowledge than he will
be ever Master of, and an unsatisfied Curiosity to tread
the secret Paths of Nature and Providence: But, with this,
his Organs, in their present Structure, are rather fitted to
serve the Necessities of a vile Body, than to minister
to his Understanding; and from the little Spot to which
he is chained, he can frame but wandering Guesses cone
cerning the innumerable Worlds of Light that encompass
hlfll
260 THE SPECTATOR

, 635,
onda ,
c, 2 ,
him, which, tho' in themselves of a prodigious Bigness, do
but just- glimmer in the remote Spaces of the Heavens;
and, when with a great deal of Time and Pains he hath
laboured a little way up the steep Ascent of Truth, and
beholds with Pity the groveling Multitude beneath, in a
Moment his Foot slides, and he tumbles down headlong
into the Grave,
Thinking on this, I am obliged to believe, injustice to
the Creator of the World, that there is another State
when Man shall be better situated for Contemplation, or
rather have it in his Power to remove from Object to
Object, and from World to World; and be accommodated
with Senses, and other Helps, for making the quickest
and most amazing Discoveries, How doth such a Genius
as Sir Isaac Newton, from amidst the Darkness that
involves human Understandi , break forth, and appear
like one of another Species! he vast Machine, we in»
habit, lies open to him, he seems not unacquainted with
the general Laws that govern it, and while with the
Transport of a Philosopher he beholds and admires the
glorious Work, he is capable of paying at once a more
devout and more rational Homage to his Maker, Butt
alas! how narrow is the Prospect even of such a Mind?
and how obscure to the Compass that is taken in by the
Ken of an Angel; or of a Soul but newly escaped from
its Imprisonment in the Body! For my part, I freely in;
dulge my Soul in the Confidence of its future Grandeur; it
pleases me to think that I who know so small a portion of
the Works of the Creator, and with slow and painful Steps
creep up and down on the Surface of this Globe, shall e'er
long shoot away with the Swiftness of Imagination, trace
out the hidden Springs of Nature's Operations, be able to
keep pace with the heavenly Bodies in the Rapidity of
their Career, be a Spectator of the long Chain of Events
in the natural and moral Worlds, visit the several Apart,
ments of the Creation, know how they are furnished and
how inhabited, comprehend the Order and measure the
Magnitudes, and Distances of those Orbs, which to us seem
disposed without any regular Design, and set all in the
same Circle, observe the Dependance of the Parts of each
System, and (if our Minds are big enough to grasp the
Theory
THE SPECTATOR 261
Theory) of the several Systems upon one another, from No. 635.
whence results the Harmony of the Universe.
Eternity a great deal may be done of this kind. I find P7; ,
it of use to cherish this generous Ambition; for besides
the secret Refreshment it diffuses through my Soul, it
engages me in an Endeavour to improve my Faculties,
as well as to exercise them conformany to the Rank I
now hold among reasonable Beings, and the hope I have
of being once advanced to a more exalted Station.
The other, and that the Ultimate end of Man, is the
Enioyment of God, beyond which he cannot form a
Wish. Dim at best are the Conceptions we have of
the Supreme Being, who, as it were, keeps his Creatures
in Sus ence, neither discovering, nor hiding himself;
by which means, the Libertine hath a Handle to dispute
his Existence, while the most are content to speak him
fair, but in their Hearts prefer every trifling Satisfaction
to the Favour of their Maker, and ridicule the good
Man for the Singularity of his Choice. Will there not a
time come, when the Free/thinker shall see his impious
(Schemes overturned, and be made a Convert to the Truths
he hates; when deluded Mortals shall be convinced of
the Folly of their Pursuits, and the few Wise who
followed the Guidance of Heaven, and, seeming the
Blandishments of Sense and the sordid Bribery of the
World, aspired to a celestial Abode, shall stand possessed
of their utmost Wish in the Vision of the Creator? Here
the Mind heaves a Thou ht now and then towards him,
and hath some transient lances of his Presence: When,
in the Instant it thinks itself to have the fastest hold,
the Obiect eludes its Expectations, and it falls back tir'd
and baffled to the Ground. Doubtless there is some
more perfect way of conversing with heavenly Beings.
Are not Spirits capable of mutual Intelligence unless
immersed in Bodies, or by their Intervention? Must
superior Natures depend on inferior for the main Privi/
lege of sociable Beings, that of conversing with, and
knowing each other? What would they have done,
had Matter never been created? I suppose, not have
lived in eternal Solitude. As incorporeal Substances are
of a nobler Order, so, be sure, their manner of Inter!
course
In Mend
zati'
262 THE SPECTATOR
Elle. 6d35.
on a
Dec. 28,.
714.

course is answerany more expedite and intimate. This
method of Communication, we call Intellectual Vision,
as somewhat Analogous to the Sense of Seeing, which
is the Medium of our Acquaintance with this visible
World. And in some such way can God make himself
the Object of immediate Intuition to the Blessed; and
as he can, ’tis not improbable that he will, always con/
descending, in the Circumstances of doing it, to the
Weakness and Proportion of finite Minds. His Works
but faintly 'reflect the Image of his Perfections; ’tis a
Second/hand Knowledge: To have a iust Idea of him,
it may be necessary that we see him as he is. But
what is that? 'Tis something that never entered into
the Heart of Man to conceive; yet, what we can easily
conceive will be a Fountain of Unspeakable, of ever/
lasting Rapture. All created Glories will fade and die
away in his Presence. Perhaps it will be my Happiness
to compare the World with the fair Exemplar of it in
the Divine Mind; perhaps, to view the original Plan of
those wise Designs that have been executing in a long
Succession of Ages. Thus employed in finding out his
Works, and contemplating their Author, how shall I}
fall prostrate and adoring, my Body swallowed up in
the Immensity of Matter, my Mind in the Infinitude of
his Perfections!
The End of the Eighth and Last Volume.
NOTES
A.=Otiginal Daily Issue
, B. I. =Biographical Index.
NOTES TO VOL. VII
PAGE I. Mr. Methuen, later Sir Paul Methuen. See B. I. Dedica,
PAGE 3. Motto. Horace, Epz'st. I. i. xviii. 6. (ion,
PAGE 5. In talking, etc. King joint, I. i. 202-3, 205 [“ And N°_ 474
talking ” ; “ But this ”],
PAGE 7. Infirmary. See Nos. 424, 429, and 44.0.
“This letter has been ascribed to Steele’s friend Richard
Parker, Fellow of Merton. His criticism of Steele’s first literary
effort (a comedy) induced the latter to withhold it from the
public. To him also Edmund Smith submitted his translation
of Longinus (Johnson, Lz'ws, ii. 242). He is probably the “ old
friend” who contributed two letters (in a similar strain) to the
T atlor (Nos. 89 and 112), to which Mr. Bickerstafi’ gave the name
of “Right Country Letters.” See a letter by ‘I. R.’ in Steele’s
Epz'st. Corrosp. ii. 595.
—-Mr. Campbell. See note, vol. v. p. 285.
—-facoous. A gold coin, struck in the reign of James 1., worth
about twenty-five shillings.
PAGE 8. Motto. Terence, Eunucfius, I. i. 12-13 (57-8). No, 475,i
PAGE II. Motto. Horace, Ar: Poet. 41. NO, 475,1
PAGE 12. From the Dispensary. Garth’s Dispensmjr, 9 5-6. '
“ Hourly his learn’d impertinence afiords
A barren superfluity of words.”
PAGE I 3. Doway and Darwin. Douai capitulated to Marlborough.
and Prince Eugene on 14th june I710. Villars defeated the Earl
of Albernarle before Denain on 24th july I712, and soon there-
after captured Douai.
--In A is advertised an Essay towards a History of Dancing,
the book referred to in No. 466. See note, vol. vi. p. 297. 2
PAGE I4. Motto. Horace, Odes, II. iv. 5-8. No, 477,
PAGE 15. VVz'se and London. See note, vol. i. p. 314.
PAGE I7. Vernal Dolz'g/zt. See No. 393 (vol. v.).
PAGE 18. Motto. Horace, Ars Poet. 71-2. No, 478,
PAGE 19. T he autlzor . . . w/zo advises his Son. See Osborne’s
Advice to a Son.
~—A Baoy a’ross’a’. See No. 277 (vol. iv.).
PAGE 20. And per/zaps tlze Ballance, etc. Steele would not have
been surprised at the turn in Parisian fashion at the close of the
nineteenth century.
PAGE 23. Motto. Horace, Ars Poet. 398. NoI 479'
PAGE 25. One of our famous Lawyers. Henry de Bracton, De
Legz'bus, i. IO. Cf N o. 482, infra. ‘
—Socrates. See the anecdotes in Xenophon’s Symposium, ii.
PAGE 27. M'otto. Horace, Sat. vii. 85-6. No' 480.
—-T/zoso oldManustrzpts. . See No. 76 (vol. i.) and Nos. 84 and
97 (vol ii.).
265

266
THE SPECTATOR
iOn
o. 481.
QC! “O. 483.
No. 484.
NO:
No. 487.
NO:

No. 486. ~
PAGE 30.
114. D. “ This letter was written by Mr. Robert Harper, of
Lincoln’s-Inn, an eminent conveyancer. Steele omitted some parts
of it, and made some alterations in it; at least the author’s
original draft of it. in his letter-book, communicated to the
annotator by the Rev. Mr. Harper of the British Museum, is some-
what different.
This letter was sent to the Spettator, Aug. 9,
1712, as appears from the author’s autograph endorsement” _(Note
in C/zalrners’s edition).
—- Motto.
PAGE 31.
Innocent Adultery, V. i.
Horace, Sat. I. vii. 19-21. . 5
One of Mr. Southern’s Plays. T lze Fatal Marriage, or the
See note in vol. ii. p. 327.
—— Count Reekteren and Monsieur Mesnager. An account of this
petty trouble arising from the insulting behaviour of the servants of
M. Mesnager, the French Plenipotentiary, and the reprisals by
those of Count Rechteren, deputy for Overyssel, will be found in
the Me‘moz'res d'e T orey (iii. 41 1).
Most of the details are given in
a note in Mr. Henry Morley’s edition of The Spectator.
PAGE 33. Motto. Lucretius, De Rerunz Natura, 11.
—- Bracton. See No. 479, supra.
PAGEN36. .Motto. Horace, Ars Poet. 191-2. This is also the motto of
0. 315.
PAGE 38. Dz'agoras. The story will be found in Cicero, De Natura
Deorum, iii. 37.
PAGE 39. Clz'toéus. A slip for Cleobis. ‘ The story is told in
Herodotus, I. xxxi. - A
PAGE 40. Motto. Pliny, Epist. vi. 23-5.
PAGE 41. Abest w'rtute, etc. Horace, Ars Poet. 370-1. '
— Multum sanguinz's, etc.
Pliny, Epz'st. v. 17.
PAGE 42'. [n t/ze Modesty, etc. A Midsummer Nag/it’s Dream, V. i.
101-3.
PAGE 44. Motto. Quintus Curtius, vii. 8-15.
PAGE 47. Mr. Skort’s. See vol. vi. p. 283.
PAGE 48. A young,r Woman on Horseback. See note, vol. vi. p. 293.
_ ' ‘— Motto. Horace, Sat. I. 37-8.
PAGE . 51. Motto. Petronius Arbiter, Satyrz'ton, civ.
PAGE 52. Relzlg'io Medici. ii. 11.
PAGE 54. Virgil. in. iv. 466-8.
—— Plutarck. Essay on Superstition,
—- Tertullz'an.
PAGE 55.
De Anima, cap. 45-9.
Motto. Horace, Sat. II. iii. 156.
No. 489.
-- See No. 445 and note (vol. vi. p. 294).
—- T. PV. Dr. Thomas Walker, headmaster of the Charterhouse
when Steele and Addison were schoolboys there.
-- Better than’ Lace.
Cf. Laced Coffee. See note, vol. iv.
. 299.
PAGEP 57. Visiting Days. See note, vol. i. p. 324. . .
PAGE 58. Tate. Nahum Tate, Poet Laureate. See B. I
g -- .Motto. Homer, flz'aa’, xxi. 195.
PAGE 59. Longinus. 0n the Sublime, 10.
-— Psalm cvii. 23-30.
PAGE 60. The “ gentleman’ is Addison.
PAGE 61.
In A the following ‘ Advertisement’ is appended :—
NOTES 267
“ The Author of the Spectator having received the Pastoral Hymn No, 489
in his 441st Paper, set to Musick by one of the most Eminent
Composers of our own Country, and by a Foreigner, who has not
put his Name to his ingenious Letter, thinks himself obliged to
return his Thanks to those Gentlemen for the Honour they have
done him.”
PAGE 61. Motto. Horace, Odes, II. xiv. 21-2. No, 490,
PAGE 63. Engram of Marlz'al. IV. xxii.
PAGE 64. Spenser, Faerie Queene, IV. ix. st. I and 2.
PAGE 65. Motto. Virgil, .4612. III. 318. No, 491.
—- The following Narration. Taken from Bayle’s Dictionary,
art. ‘ Burgundy (Charles, Duke of),’ note N.
PAGE 69. Motto. Seneca, P No, 492,
PAGE 72. Motto. Horace, Epz'st. I. xviii. 76-7. No, 493,
PAGE 7 5. l have translated. Horace, Epz'sl. I. ix.
PAGE 76. Motto. Cicero, P No. 494,
—— Lately a great ornament. Identified as the dandy and littéra-
teur, Anthony Henley (son of Sir Robert Henley). He is frequently
mentioned by Swift; Garth dedicated the Dispensazy to him ; he
contributed the “Life of the Music Master (Tom D’Urfev) ” to the
Memoirs of Marlz'nus Scrz'hlerus, and wrote some pieces for
the Taller. See B. I.
-- Who was head of a College. Dr Thomas Goodwin, President
of Magdalen College, Oxford. See 3. f.
-- W z'z‘h half-a-dozen Nzght- Caps. According to Anthony 5. Wood,
Goodwin was called “ N ine-caps ” by the irreverent undergraduates
because of the elaborate precautions he took against cold in the head.
—— In former Papers. Cf. Nos. 38!, 387.
PAGE 78. An eminent Pagan Writer. See Plutarch, Hep‘t. AGLO'L'
Sutuovfus, 10.
PAGE 79. Motto. Horace, Odes, IV. iv. 57-60. No, 495,
PAGE 82. Motto. Terence, Heauton. I. i. 131-3. No, 496.
PAGE 85. Motto. Menander, Et’w. 3. No. 497.
PAGE 87. Leo the Tenth. See Bayle, art. Leo X., note F.
PAGE 89. Motto. Virgil, Georg. i. 513-4. No. 498.
PAGE 92. Motto. Persius, Sat. 1. 40-1. No, 499,
PAGE 96. _Motto. Ovid, Melam. vi. 1824. No, 500,
PAGE 99. Motto. Horace, Oa’es, I. xxiv. 19-20. No. 501,
PAGE 103. Motto. Terence, Heauz‘olz. IV. i. 30. N0, 502,
-— The Self- T ormenz‘or, i.e. Heantonz‘z‘moramenos. Dryden calls
it the Self-Punish” (Essay of Dram. Poesy).
PAGE 104. I am a man, etc. A transcript of the familiar—
Homo sum : humani nihil a me alienum puto.
-—(Heauton. I. i. 25.)
- I have heard. Editors have referred, rather vaguely, to the
well-known passage from Fletcher of Saltoun, “I knew a very
wise man that believed that if a man were permitted to make all
the ballads he need not care who should make the laws of a
nation.” The sentiment recalls some passages in Sidney’s Apologz'e
for Poetn'e.
—- When I came to the house, etc. Terence, Heanton. II. iii.
275, etc.
IV. 2 0
268
THE SPECTATOR
l
No. 502. PAGE 106. T lie Cozcntrjl- l/Va/se, by Dogget (see B. 1.), was produced at
Lincoln’s Inn Fields in 1696, with the author in the part of Young
Hob. It was revived, in altered form, as a farce at Drury Lane, on
Oct. 6, 1711 (Genest, ii. 487-8). It had been acted at Drury Lane
a few days (Sept. 23) before the appearance of this paper. The
farce was rinted in 1715, with Doggct’s name on the title-page;
yet it has een ascribed to Colley Cibber.
—Pen.éez‘/znzan. See note, vol. i. p. 326.
~Bullock. See note, vol. i. p. 328.
—-Dz'c.€y/. Henry Norris, the actor. See B. I. In the cast for
Steele’s Funeral, or Grz'efd la Mode at Drury Lane (1702) Penketh-
man played Trim; Bullock, Kate Matchlock; and Norris, Mrs.
Fardingale.
N0; 503' PAGE 107. Motto. Terence, Ennnckus, II. iii. 5.
No, 506, PAGE 118. Motto.
No. 507. PAGE 121. .Motco.
PAGE 124. Pompey. See Plutarch’s Life.
No. 508.
PAGE 109.
No. 504. PAGE 111.
PAGE 112.
No. 505. PAGE 114. Motto.
PAGE 116. A Scotch .Hzlg'klander.
PAGE 127.
N0; 509' PAGE 128.
PAGE 131.
“The Misbelzaw'our queople at C/zzcrc/z. Cf: Nos. 50, 53, 129,
134, 158, 270, 272, 282, 284, 344, 460, etc. Mr. Dobson recalls
the fact that “in St James’s Chapel the ogling and sighing rose
at one time to such a height that Bishop Burnet petitioned the
Princess Anne to be allowed to raise the pews” (Selections from
Steele, p. 478).
Charles Mather. See N 0. 328 and B. J.
Motto. Terence, Eunuc/zns, III. i. 36.
—-Q.'cestz'ons and Commands. See vol. iii. p. 283. “ Many
a time have I missed a ball, . . . and chose to wander in
unfrequented Solitudes, when I might have been a King at
Questions and Commands.” Steele’s Lover, No. 13. The game
is described in W. C. Sydney’s Socz'al Lzfi in England, p. 392.
-—A Shape. Cji No. 58 (vol. i. p. 216, and note, p. 339).
Your oz'ters. See note, vol. i. p. 335.
Ennius, quoted in Cicero, De .Dz'm'natz'one, i. 58,
The seventh line (Quz' sm', etc.), also by Ennius, is an
It, too, is quoted in the De Dz'm'natz'one (i. 40, 88).
A hit at Duncan Campbell, the
fortune-teller (see note, supra, p. 311). So, too, is the concluding
‘ 1V. B.’-—“ I am not dumb.” The nonz-de-gnerre ‘ Trophonius’ is
the name of the builder of the first temple of Apollo at Delphi
and himself the possessor of an oracle. See Fontenelle’s Dialogues
des Marts (1683) and Histoz're des Oracles (1687); and Hughes’s
note to Dialogue xi. in his translation of the former.
Martial, Epzlgr. IV. xiii. 7-10.
__..[n one of our modern Comedies. Steele’s Funeral, or Grief”
d la 1an’e, iii., where Mademoiselle d’Epingle shocks Lady Harriot.
by offering to undress before her and Mr. Campley.
Juvenal, Sat. ii. 46.
1 32.
interpolation.
~—/Voz‘z‘o. Cornelius Nepos, i. 8.
Milton, Par. Lost, i. 659-662.
rlfotto. Terence, Heauz‘on. III. iii. 19.
~Keepyonr Shop. “I garnished my shop, for want of plate,.
with wholesome thriftie sentences; as ‘Touchstone, keepc thy~
shoppe, and thy shoppe will keepe thee’” EastwardHo (1605), I. i.
Duke g’ Bucking/tam . . . ll/famefacture of Class. I m
NOTES 269
1670 a number of Venetian glass-blowers settled in Lambeth. and, No. 509
with the aid of the Duke of Buckingham, established a lucrative
business in the making of plate-glass. Cf. Steele’s Lover, N o. 34:
“It is a modest computation, that England gains fifty thousand
pounds a year by exporting this commodity for the service of
foreign nations: the whole owing to the inquisitive and mechanic
as well as liberal genius of the late Duke of Buckingham.” See the
references to an earlier venture in Pepys’s Diary (Globe edition,
p. 10, note).
PAGE I31. Mr. Gumley. Earlier in the paper in the Lower (quoted
supra), Steele writes : “ The place I am going to mention is Mr.
Gumley’s glass-gallery over the New Exchange. I little thought
I should ever in the LOVER have occasion to talk of such a thing
as trade; but when a man walks in that illustrious room, and
refleccs what incredible improvement our artificers of England have
made in the manufacture of glass in thirty years time, and can sup-
pose such anv alteration of our affairs in other parts of commerce, it
is demonstrable that the nations, who are possessed of mines of gold,
are but drudges to a people, whose arts and industry, with other
advantages natural to us, may make itself the shop of the world.”
PAGE I 32. Motto. Terence, Eumrchus, I. i. NO. 510.
—Haeh, i.e. hackney-coach (as on p. 291). This usage, now
found only in the United States, seems to be an earlier one. See“
A New Eng. Diet, where the earliest example is from Steele’s
Lying Lover, III. ii. ‘
PAGE I33. Sir Walter Rawlezgh. See Hitter)! of the World, I. iv. §4.
PAGE I36. lVfotto. Ar: Amat. i. 17 5. Cf. this paper with T alter, No. 75. No, 511,
—FflendDappemz't. Cf. N o. 530, p. 210.
PAGE 137. Farmers’ Daughters. A premonition of the fastidious
Will’s own fate. Cf. his letter in No. 530.
PAGE I 39. Motto. Horace, Ar: Poet. 344. NO- 512:
PAGE 140. The Absalon and Achitophel. By Dryden.
—Turhz'sh Tale. See note, vol. i. p. 328.
PAGE 142. Motto. Virgil, din. vi. 50-1. - No, 513,
—-Dr. Sherlock. See note, vol. i. p. 329.
PAGE 146. Monsieur Des Barreaux (Jacques Vallée, Seigneur des B.
-—I602-I67 3). See Bayle’s Dictionary, art. ‘ Des Barreaux,’ note.
~Motto. Virgil, Georg. iii. 291-3. No, 514‘
PAGE 150. The Country Clown. See vol. v. p. 78, line I7.
PAGE 151. Laplanders. A reference to Schefi'er’s Odes, translated in
Nos. 366 and 406.
~Boecalz'ni . . . Parnassus. See note, vol. iv. p. 296.
PAGE I 52. Motto. Terence, Heauton. II. iii. 19-20. ' No, 515,
-——Aceozmt ofa Coquet. Ante, p. 107.
PAGE I 55. Gatty. See vi. 293. Cf. Steele’s Lover (No. 3).
“ I must desire Aronces to give an exact relation of the airs and
glances of the whole company, and particularly how Mrs. Gatty
sits, when it happens that she is to pass by the Lover Vagabond,
who, I find, is got into that company by the favour of his cousin
Jenny.”
PAGE I 56. Motto. Juvenal, Sat. xv. 34, 368. No, 516.
PAGE 157. There were not ever, etc. From this point to the close of
270 THE SPECTATOR
No. 516; the paper Steele reprints, with a few omissions, the concluding
portion of his Christian Hero.
PAGE 157. filac/zz'aaiz'lz'an Sr/zeme. A. and the Octavo (r712) read
‘ Machiavilian Scene.’
PAGE 160. Fuz't Ilium, etc. AEn. ii. 325-6.
NO. 517. —-M0tt0. Virgil, (En. vi. 879.
--Eustace Budgell referred to the death of Sir Roger in the first
number of his Bee—“ Mr. Addison was so fond of this character that
a little before he laid down the Spectator (foreseeing that some
nimble gentleman would catch up his pen the moment he quitted
it) he said to an intimate friend, with a certain warmth in his ex-
pression which he was not often guilty of, ‘ By God, I’ll kill Sir
I Roger, that nobody else may murder him.’ ” This would seem to
have suggested Johnson’s statement that ‘ ‘ the reason which induced
Cervantes to bring his hero to the grave, para mi sola nacz'a Don
Quixote, y yo para cl, made Addison declare, with undue vehemence
of expression, that he would kill Sir Roger ; being of opinion that
they were born for one another, and that any other hand would do
him wrong.” This account has been transformed by later editors,
and by Mr. Thomas Arnold in particular, who says that Addison,
being very angry at the Sukey episode (No. 410), “had a sharp
altercation with Steele, and resolved to send the darling of his im-
agination to the land where the ‘ wicked cease from troubling.’ "
The story is hardly worth credence, and implies a slight to Steele,
who, as Tickell admitted, drew the first sketch of the character.
The fact to be remembered is that the ‘ death ’ of the Spectator had
been resolved on, and that the gradual elimination of the characters
was an obvious editorial method of farewell. The Clergyman’s
serious illness is announced in No. 513 ; the next sad item of news
after the death of Sir Roger is the unexpected marriage of the cynical
Will. Honeycomb ; and other intimations follow. To speak of the
artistic merits of the sketch of Sir Roger, and of the charm of this
paper in particular, is now superfluous. We may remember that
Bentley, who had the Spectator read to him by his children, “took
Sir Roger’s literary decease most seriously to heart."
No, 5518, PAGE 163. Motto. Juvenal, Sat. viii. 76-7.
PAGE I65. Hicjacet. We are referred for the complete epitaph on
Thomas Crouch to the European Magazine, July 1787.
PAGE 166. Pulm'l. See note, vol. i. p. 341.
-—Tom Tweer, John Henley. See note, vol. vi. p. 287.
No' 519' —fl[otto. Virgil, fin. vi. 728—9.
PAGE 167. T lze-Plnmlz'ty 0f I/Vorlds, by Fontenelle (iii. ).
PAGE 169. That there snouch 68 more Species, etc. Locke's Human
Understanding, III. vi. 12.
PAGE 170. Brethren, and may. The ‘and’ is interpolated to com-
plete the sense. Chalmers reads ‘ being ’ for ‘is,’ three lines above.
PAGE I71. Corruption thou art. Job xvii. 14.
No. 520. -—Matt0. Horace, Oder, I. xxiv. I-2.
PAGE 174. F.[. (Rf. in other editions) has been identified as Mr.
Francham, of Norwich.
-—.Mot/0. Petronius Arbiter, Satyrz'con, lxxx.
No. 521. ~PrinreEugme.. .lzz's Hazy/2t or Fzgnre. Cf. vol. v. p. 78 and note.
NOTES 271
PAGE 175. A late Act of Parliament. 7 Anne, cap. 17. NG. 521.
PAGE 176. Will’s, C/zz'ld’s, jonaz‘fian’s. See the account Of these in
the note, vol. i. pp. 309-10.
PAGE 177. T be Self- T ormenz‘or. See N 0. 502, supra. '
~Motz‘o. Terence, Andria, iv. 2, 11-14. No, 522
PAGE 181. Motto. Virgil, En. iv. 376-9. No, 5231
—-T/ze late [Miscellany published by 1112'. Pope. The Pastoral:
and the Episode of Sarpea’on had appeared in Tonson’s Sixth
Miscellany, May 1709, but the reference is to Lintot’s Miscellany
of 1713, which contained, among the pieces by Pope, the first
sketch of T he Rape of the Lock.
PAGE 182. T he Prospect of Peace. By Tickell. The .Sloecz’acor’s
praise (which must have been the cause of its rapid sale) was
seconded by Pope, who, flattered by the lines
“ Like the young spreading laurel, Pope! thy name
Shoots up with strength and rises into fame,”
spoke well of it to Caryll, and invited a comparison between a
passage in it and one in his Windsor Forest (29th Nov. 1712),
See also No. 532, note, and vol. viii. NO. 620. The fourth edition
is advertised in No. 552 (A).
PAGE 183. T he Pastorals of Mr. P/zz'lzlos. Steele had already praised
these poems in N0. 400.
PAGE 184. Motto. Seneca, P . No, 524,
PAGE 185. From Scotland . . . . Second-:zgkled. A gentle hit at
the Duncan Campbell craze. See note on p. 314.
PAGE 189. Glasco'w. “This paper has been ascribed to Professor
Simpson of Glasgow. It seems to rest on better authority that it
was the joint composition of Mr. Dunlop, then Greek professor of
that University, and a Mr. Montgomery, a gentleman in the
mercantile line, Of an amiable character, an enterprising spirit, and
great abilities. He traded to Sweden, and his business carrying
him there, it is said that, in consequence of something between
him and Queen Christina, he was obliged to leave that kingdom
abruptly. This event was supposed to have affected his intellect,
much in the same manner as Sir Roger de Coverley is represented
in these papers to have been injured by his passion for a beautiful
widow” (Note in Chalmers’s ea’z'z‘z'on).
PAGE 190. 1110210. Euripides, (Edzlpus, Frag. xv. N0. 525.
PAGE 193. Pliny to Hispulla. Pliny‘s Letters, IV. xix.
PAGE 194. Jlioz‘to. Ovid, lllecam. ii. 127. No. 526.
—-Dear Dumb. Cf. note, vol. i. p. 309.
PAGE 196. fo/m Sly. See vol. iii. p. 73, and iv. p. 53.
PAGE 197. Ornament of a Leaf/oer Garter. Some have found in this
an allusion to one Richard Warner of Lincoln’s-Inn. (See
Clzalmers’s note.)
PAGE 198. 1110170. Plautus, Siz'chus, I. ii. 52-3. No, 527.
--“T he last letter and verses are by Pope” say the editors;
but no evidence has been given.
PAGE 202. .Mocz‘o. Ovid, .Metam. ix. 163. No. 528.
--Catalogue of a Lady’s Library, as you promised. See N O. 37
and note, vol. i. pp. 330-1.
PAGE 205. Motto. Horace, Ar: Poet. 92. N0. 529.
272 THE SPECTATOR
a. 529.
On 530.
JO,

Q!
PAGE 206. T lzose two first volumes. Vols. i. and ii. of the edition
(1711-12) of which the present is a reprint.
PAGE 207. lllr. Bullock. See B. I.
---But .Mr. Dryden. Aristotle’s reasons for the superiority of
Tragedy will be found in the Poetics, xxvi. Dryden’s position is
stated in the Apologl for Heroir Poetry, prefixed to the State 27‘
innocence (Scott and Saintsbury, v. I 14), and the Dedication oft e
Eneis (i6. xiv. 129, 134); yet in the former Dryden says:
“Heroic poetry, which they condemn, has ever been esteemed,
and ever will be, the greatest work of human nature: In that
rank has Aristotle placed it.” Among the “ many others” is
Sidney, in his A pologie for Poetrie.
PAGE 208. rlfotto. Horace, Odes, I. xxxiii. 10-12.
-——With this letter compare Will Honeycomb's in No. 511 and
notes, supra.
PAGE 209. Grogram. See note, vol. iv. p. 290.
PAGE 210. Homme de ruelle. Cf. vol. i. p. 334. See the frontis-
piece of La Pre'tieuse on Le Mystére des Ruelles, reproduced in
Petit de Julleville’s Hz'stoire de la Langrce et de la Lz'tteratnre
francaise (1897) vol. iv. p. 128.
--T om Dapperwitt. See ante, p. 136.
—-./l{otto. Horace, Odes, I. xii. 15-18.
--Sz'monz'des. The anecdote is from Cicero, De Nature
Deornm, i. 22, 60.
PAGE 211. if we examine. Locke’s Human Understanding,
Book ii.
PAGE 212. By his Word. Ecclesiastz'cus xliii.
PAGE 213. An excellent Sermon. By Bishop Burnet on the death 01
the Hon. Robert Boyle. Cf. p. 299 of this volume.
PAGE 214. Motto. Horace, Ars Poet. 304- 5.
——A Person of the greatest Abilities. Addison.
PAGE 215. An admirable Poem. T be T emple ofPame. It was written
in 1711, but it was not published till 1715. Two days later (Nov.
12), Steele wrote to Pope,-—“I have read over your Temple of
Fame twice, and cannot find anything amiss of weight enough to
call a fault, but see in it a thousand, thousand beauties. Mr.
Addison shall see it to-morrow. After his perusal of it, I will let
you know his thoughts.” Pope’s reply will be found in Elwin and
Courthope’s edition, vi. pp. 395-6.
—--1 was the other day. The publication of this letter prompted
Pope to write to Steele (Nov. 29) : “ I am sorry you published that
notion about Adrian’s verses as mine. Had I imagined you would
use my name, I should have expressed my sentiments with more
modesty and diflidence. I only sent it to have your opinion, and
not to publish my own, which I distrusted.” After a reference to
Steele’s remark about the “diminutive epithets,” he concludes:
" Perhaps I should be much better pleased if I were told you
called me your little friend than if you complimented me with the
title of a great genius, or an eminent hand, as Iacob [Tonson] does
all his authors.” Steele replied, on Dec. 4, requesting Pope “to
make an Ode as of a cheerful dying spirit,--that is to, say, the
Emperor Adrian’s Anz'nnela vagula put into two or three stanzas
NOTES 27 3
for music.” The result was Pope’s three stanzas (really a tran- No. 532.
scription from Thomas Flatman) entitled The Dying C/zrz'stz'arz
to his Soul (see the correspondence, Elwin and Courthope, vi.
p. 397). A translation of the verses in the Spectator, also by Pope,
was published anonymously in Lewis’s MiSEB/[dfl] 1730. See the
note in Elwin and Courthope, vi. p. 394. ‘
PAGE 216. Tickell had already anticipated these lines of admiration
in his Prospect of Peace (supra, N o. 523)—
“ Britain's Spectators shall their strength combine
To mend our morals and our taste refine.“
-—- Her rescued oaks. Cf Will. T rusty’s letter in the Tatler,
No. 73, to which, and to others on like topics, Tickell seems to
refer—“ Besides, Partn'dge has cast me his Nativity, and I find
by certain Destiny his oaks must be fell’d.”
PAGE 2:7. Gems, buds. Chalmers alters it to germs!
PAGE 218. Air. /o/m Sly. See No. 526 and No. 534.
—-— Motto. Plautus, Stir/ms, iv. i. 34-5. 0, 533,
PAGE 219.. Mr. Pert. So in the duodecirno. But inA and the Octavo
T ert.
PAGE 221. Dragoons. See the companion sketch in No. 132 (ii.
p. 181); also No. 242 (iii. p. 273).
-- Lords Halli ax etc. The text reads ‘ Lord Hallifax,
Anglisey Shaftsbury.’
PAGE 222. Motto. juvenal, (Sat. viii. 73-4. No, 534,
-- Fine Mrs. Sue/z-a-one, etc. Chalmers reads—“Oh! to be
sure, fine. Mrs. Such-a-one,” etc. 1 Fine is ordinary ‘eighteenth-
century ’ for our ‘ pretty’ or ‘ handsome.’
PAGE 224. Dapperwz't (supra p. 318) follows the lead of Bob Short
(vi. p. 283) and Robin Shorter (vii. p. 47).
PAGE 225. T be la’ot. See vol. ii. p. 25.
-- Bout/rain. See note vol. ii. p. 3 .
PAGE 226. A Minuz'tfrom Mr. {elm Sly. See Nos. 526 and 532.
— Motto. Horace, Odes, . ix. 7. NO, 535,
PAGE 228. Antoine Galland’s translation of the Thousand and One
Nzglzts appeared in twelve volumes, Paris 1704-1717.
PAGE 230. Motto. Virgil, (En. ix. 617. N9, 536,
-——A pretty young T king. Cf. i. p. 18 and note of reading.
PAGE 23I. Knottz'ng. Dorset has some verses on this fashionable
amusement, entitled K'nottz'ng, beginning—-
‘ “At noon in a sunshiny day,
The brighter lady of the May,
Young hloris, innocent and gay,
Sat knotting in a shade.”
Cf. also Sedley~
“ But here’s a queen when she rides abroad
Is always knotting threads";
and T ize Examiner (No. 37)-—“Lady Char--te is taken knotting
in Saint ~larnes’s Chapel during Divine Service, in the immediate
presence both of God and Her .Majesty, who were affronted
together.” _
PAGE 232. more“. Technically, the men who preceded a proces—
sion, supernumeraries (of. Shakes. Hen. VI v. Chor. 12) ; other-
27 4 THE SPECTATOR
J ..
PI
a. 537.
lo. 538.
i0: 9:
No. 540.

NO!
wise, in Johnson’s definition, men of no consequence. Cf the
letter from ‘Tom Whiffle’ in Steele’s Lover (No. 7); and Swift,
“ Every whifiier in a laced coat, who frequents the chocolate house,
shall talk of the constitution.”
——Shoeing-horns. Johnson quotes from this Essay, and defines
the word, “Any thing by which a transaction is facilitated: any
thing used as a medium : in contempt.”
PAGE 233. Motto. From the <I>aw6ueva of Aratus of Soli, as quoted
in the New Testament (Acts xvi. 28). “
PAGE 234. Pascal. Pensees, I. iv. 7.
PAGE 235. Cicero. De Senectute, 21, 78.
PAGE 237. An Ode to the Creator of the World, occasioned by the
Fragments of Orpheus. The author is John Hughes (See B. 1.).
The words ‘the 375th on Virtue in Dz'stress’ do not appear in
A. The Ode is announced in No. 540 (A). It was published
on 26th November (No. 546, A).
PAGE 238. Motto. Horace, Sat. II. i. I-2. Addison printed ‘Finenz’
' for ‘Legem.’ In A the motto is ‘Aut famanz sequere, aut sihz
convenientia fuige. Hor.’ '
PAGE 244.' Eustace. Hence probably the ascription of this letter to
Budgell. The next has been given to John Hughes.
—- To the Town and a Scarf. So all the texts: but seine
editors (quite unnecessarily) read Gown for T own.-
' -- So manypretty Additions etc. . . . Bullock or Penhethnzan etc.
Cf The T atler, No. 89. “ I was very well pleased this Evening,
to hear a Gentleman express a very becoming Indignation against
a Practice which I my self have been very much offended at.
There is nothing (said he) more ridiculous, than for an Actor to
insert Words of his own in the Part he is to act, so that it is
impossible to see the Poet for the Player: You ’1 have Pinhet/znzan
and Bullock helping out Beaumont and Fletcher. It puts me in
Mind (continued he) of a Collection of antique Statues which I
once saw in a Gentleman’s Possession, who employ’d a neighbour-
ing Stone-Cutter to add Noses, Ears, Arms, or Legs to the
maimed Works of Phidias or Praxiteles. . . . I remember at
Venus, that by the Nose he had given her, looked like Mother
Shipton; and a Mercury, with a Pair of Legs that seemed very
much swelled with a Dropsy.”
-- Bulloch or Penhethman. See notes, supra, p. 314.
PAGE 245. Motto. Virgil, En. vi. I43.
-- Your criticism on Milton. Vol. v. passinz. There are
several indications in the T atler of Steele’s appreciation of Spenser
(e.g. No. 194).
PAGE 247, line 3.
-- Care and his House.
34, 35- ,
—- Who was so weel. ‘ So weet,’ ed. Collier.
-- lVails prepared. ‘ Unpared,’ ed. Collier.
PAGE 248. Motto. Horace, Ars Poet. 108—11.
PAGE 250. Death! Confusion! [King Lear, II. iv. 93- 5, 101-2.
-- Farewell! A long Farewell. Henry VIII. III. ii. 351-8. ,
- T he Distrest Mother. See note, vol. v. p. 290. '
‘ Love’s Fit,’ ed. Collier.
Steele’s reference should be iv. 5, 32,
NOTES 275
PAGE 251. Alas! I am afraid. Macbeth, II. ii. 9-13. No. 541
-——[;/'ere satiate. Dryden’s Don Sebastian, I. i.
——Caius Marius. By Otway. I. i.
—Hamlet.' III. i. 56-82.
PAGE 252. The Orator’ s I/Veapon, etc. This passage and the following
are taken from Cicero’s De Oratore, iii. 59, 220, etc.
PAGE 253. Motto. Ovid, Metam. ii. 430. No, 54;;
——Writ to himself. See note, vol. i. p. 310.
PAGE 255. The wild Boar, etc. See notes, vol. i. p. 322.
——-f have heard of a Person. This might well be the ‘learned
Idiot,’ Tom Folio, of the T atler (No. 158), who had “ a greater
4 esteem for Aldus and Elzenir than for Virgil and Horace.” He
is said by some to have been a Mr. Thomas Rawlinson.
-—1 have been scrupulous perhaps to a Fault. If this is to be
taken seriously, it is disingenuous. See the Notes passim, and,
in especial, those dealing with Addison’s unacknowledged use of
Le Bossu’s treatise (vol. iv. pp. 292-3, and v. p. 286).
PAGE 256. Tully’s ohservatiens. See the preceding paper.
-.Philo-Spec’s letter is a very definite intimation of the close of
the Spectatoru See note, supra, p. 316.
PAGE 257. Motto. Ovid, Metam. ii. 13-14. No. 543
PAGE 260. Poem, Entitled Creation. By Sir Richard Blackmore.
See note, vol. i. p. 315. .
PAGE 261. Motto. Terence, Ade/phi, v. 1-4, No. 544
--T hat passage in your writings. Sir Roger’s meeting with
Sukey (N o. 410), ascribed by some to Tickell.
PAGE 263. Camperfelt, or Kempenfclt. Cf. note, vol. i. p. 311.
PAGE 264. Though .7 am become a Country Gentleman. Cf. No.
4174.an-
-—[n the same Tully. T use. Quaest. v. 35, 100.
-—Motto. Virgil, En. iv. 99-100. No, 545.
PAGE 265. Steele (if he was the author of this satirical letter from the
Emperor of China) may have been familiar with Father Charles
le Gobien’s History of the Edict of Toleration granted by the
Emperor, published in 1698.
PAGE 268. john Sly. Ante, p. 319.
PAGE 269. Motto. Cicero, De Oficiis, iii. 12, 51. NO, 546,
--./l{r. Cihher was introducing a French Play. This was
Ximena, or the Heroic Daughter, founded on Corneille’s Cid. It
was first acted at Drury Lane on 28th Nov., and ran for a few
nights. It was revived on Nov. 1. 1718, when it was altered in
some parts.
—-Mrs. Olozj‘ield. See B. 1'.
-—He expected I would do him justice. Cf. Cibber’s Apology.
“ We knew too the Obligations the Stage had to his Writings ; there
being scarce a Comedian of Merit, in Our whole Company, whom
his Tatlers had not made better, by his publick Recommendation
of them. And many Days had our House been particularly fill'd, ,
by the Influence, and Credit of his Pen” (p. 289, ed. 1740). The
same sentiment occurs in his Dedication of the Heroic Daughter;
where, too, will be found the passage in which, in a metaphor
borrowed from Dryden’s Don Sehastian, Cibber likens Addison to

276 THE SPECTATOR
S46.
S47.
. 548.
$1
D;
O.

b. 552.
l
'o. 553.
a Wren borne aloft on the wings of the eagle Steele, and finally
mounting above his helpmate. (Theatre, ed. Nichols, II. 330.)
Steele gave a kindly snub to Cibbcr’s extravagant zeal in No. 12
of the Theatre (i6. 1. p. 101, etc.).
PAGE 270. The Honesty ofam A .thor. Cf. note, supra, p. 321.
—- Mr. fo/m Moretou. See note, vol. iii. p. 323.
PAGE 272. .Motto. Horace, Epz'st. II. ii. 149-151.
PAGE 273. Sir William A’eaa'. See No. 472- (vol. vi.) and B. I. In
No. 502 (A) be ‘ publishes his cures’ from his house in Durham-
yard in the Strand—“The Lady Yollop, aged 70, Couch’d of a
Cataract, and restor’d to sight,” etc. i
—— Dr. Grant. See 2h, and B. I. Also T atler, No. 55.
-— lVfr. llloore. See B. I.
PAGE 274. Airs. Baldwin. The Spectator was sold by A. l'aldwin,
in Warwick Lane, who also took in advertisements.
- Delightful Blushing Colour. A bit at a familiar advertise
ment, in the daily issue, of the ‘ Red Bavarian Liquor.’
PAGE 275. Motto. Horace, Sat. I. iii. 68-9.
PAGE 276. Poetical justice. Mr. Spectator is poking fun at Dennis.
See note, vol. i. p. 331. '
-- Wimtz'ng up your Bottoms. Bottom, a skein or ball of
thread: Cf. Prior, Ah Epitaph, 47-48—
“ Each Christmas they accompts did clear
And wound their bottom round the year.”
-— Boz'leau. Satires, iv. 39-40.
PAGE 278. Virgil, (En. ii. 426-8 and 429-30.
PAGE 279. The last paragraph is added in the octavo reprint.
—— Motto. juvenal, Sat. iii. 1-2.
—— An old Usurer. Horace, Epod. ii. 67-70.
PAGE 280. Lucky Hits . Favours of Providence.
Moral Essays, Epist. iii. 37 5.
“ Behold Sir Balaam, now a man of spirit,
Ascribes his gettings to his part and merit;
What late he called a blessing, now was wit,
And God's good Providence, a lucky hit."
PAGE 282. Motto.
PAGE '283. jenny Man’s.
—— A ij’ee House in Paul’s.
Cf. Pope
Horace, Ars Poet. I 38.
See vol. vi. p. 288.
Probably Child’s. See note, vol.
i. .310.
PAGE 284. Motto. Horace, Ars Poet. 400-1.
PAGE 288. That excellent Epitaph (p. 289). Taken from Comey’s
Essay ‘ Of Myself.’
PAGE 291. Motto. Horace, Epist. II. i. 13-14.
-- Peter .Motteux. See Motteux’s letter in No. 288 (vol. iv. p.
288, and note). See 19-]. r
-— Poem upon Tea. Advertised in N o. 47 5 (A) as just published,
‘ price 6d.’ .
PAGE 294. Motto. Horace, Epist. I. xw. 36.
PAGE 296. Dextro tempore. Horace, Sat. II. i. 18.
-— Si oatidus. Horace, Epist. I. xiii. 3.
PAGE 297. Cook, i.e. Coke. Cf. vol. i. p. 8.
NOTES 277
PAGE 298. Ugly Faces. See No. 17 (vol. i. p. 66), etc. No. 55
-— Phaedrz'a. A reference to the quotation from Terence’s
Ennuchus in No. 170 (vol. iii. p. 4).
-— .Motto. Virgil, Georg. iii. 8-9. No. 55'
~— The Author of a Poem just Published. John Hughes. See
note, supra, p. 320.
—- A celebrated French Author. ? Fontenelle.
PAGE 299. Mr. Boyle. See note, supra, p. 318; and B. Z.
— To a Third. Sir Isaac Newton. Cf. No. 543.
PAGE 302. Presses Luccez'us. Cicero, Epz'st. ad Dz'oersos, V. xii.
. - I must confess. Pliny’s Letter to Capito (Epist. V. viii.).
PAGE 303. Motto. Pcrsius, Sat. iv. 51. No, 555
-—— CLJO. Chalmers pertinentlyremarks, “The letters C, L, I, 0,
seem to have suggested the name of the Muse to Steele currente
calamo ; but it does not appear that he had either the least
intention or authority to explain the meaning of Addison’s
signatures.” He is rather doubtful (as he might well be) of the
value of Calder’s inte rotation that C stood for Chelsea, L for
London, I for Irelan , and O for Office, the places at which
Addison is alleged to have written his papers. See the Spectator‘s
humorous account, No. 221 (vol. iii. ).
PAGE 304. The Tender Husband was produced at Drury Lane on April
23, 1705. In a Dedicatory Letter to Addison, which was prefixed to
the printed copy, Steele wrote: “ My purpose, in this application,
is only to shew the esteem I have for you, and that I look upon
my intimacy with you as one of the most valuable enjoyments of
my life. At the same time, I hope I make the Town no ill com-
pliment for their kind acceptance of this Comedy, in acknowledging
that it has so far raised my opinion of it, as to make me think it no
improper memorial of an inviolable friendship” (Epist. Corre-
spond. i. p. 88). Addison wrote the Prologue.
—— Epilogue to the Distressed Mother. See notes, vols. iv.
p. 296, v. 290.
PAGE 305. Tax on each half Sheet. See note, vol. vi. p. 294.
~—— The following Letter—‘ Give me leave before I conclude to
insert a Letter which.’ A.
PAGE 308. Sir Goay'rey Kneller. See No. 33 (vol. i.) and B. I.
—— For the contributors named in this paper see B. I.
—— The Postscript is added in the octavo. In A ‘ 210s oalete ’ etc.
is placed after the letter of Dec. 4, 1712.

NOTES TO VQL. VIII
THE Spectator proper concluded with No. 555 in the seventh volume, Dedka'
in which Steele bade farewell to his readers. After an interval of twil-
eighteen months, Addison ‘ opened’ Mr. Spectator’s mouth, and ad-
dressed his old public in the following papers. These supplementary
essays appeared on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. The series
ran to but eighty numbers, and Addison and his bookseller were careful
to inform the public that it, with the earlier “ constellation ” of “ seven
stars,” completed the tale of the gossip of the Spectator Club. In the
present volume there are not a few examples of the happy humour
which characterizes the previous volumes, but the general tone is
too didactic. It proved too dull for the tea-tables which had been
taught to enjoy the “janty Air and easy Motion” of the earlier
numbers. The dedication of this volume to the imaginary William
Honeycomb, Esq., instead of to a real patron, as in all the other
volumes, is at once Addison’s compliment to his happy collaboration
with Steele, and a proclamation of the true kinship of this posthumous
child.
PAGE 5. Motto. Virgil, En. ii. 471—5. No. 556
-- Opening my month. In the preceding volumes Mr. Spectator
is drawn as possessed of a remarkable “taciturnity.” See note,
vol. i. p. 309.
—- Croesus. Herodotus, I. lxxxv.
PAGE 6. Patton’s. The famous Covent Garden Coffee-house estab-
lished by Addison’s old servant Daniel Button was much frequented
by the contributors to the Spectator, notably Philips, Tickell,
Budgell, and Carey. It was the receiving-office for papers intended
for the Guardian, and it was there that Ambrose Philips (according
to a lively tradition) affixed the rod which was to chastise Pope
for his unfriendly article in that paper.
-— Clzz'ld’s. See note, vol. i. p. 310.
-— T lze Englishman was Steele’s Whig continuation of the
Guardian.
-— T he Examiner was the Tory organ to which Swift contributed.
PAGE 7. Nil fuit, etc. Horace, Sat. I. iii. 18. The text reads ‘ Sic
impar.’
——few at fonat/zan’s. See note, vol. i. p. 310.
PAGE 8. A most unnatural ferment. An allusion to the excited political
condition during this month, caused by the fears of the Queen’s
early death. Thomas Harley writes next day to Swift :—-“But,
seriously, you never heard such bellowing about the town of the
state of the nation, especially among the sharpers, sellers of bear-
skins [stockjobbers], and the rest of that kind; nor such crying
279
280 THE SPECTATOR
556.
. 557.
a. 558.
a. 559.
a. 560.
o. 561.
o. 562.
lo. 563.
lo. 564.
lo. 565.
‘10. 566.
\101
\lo. 568.

and squalling among the ladies ; insomuch that it has at last reached
the House of Commons; which I am sorry for, because it is hot
and uneasy sitting there in this season of the year.” (See Swift’s
Correspondence. )
PAGE 8. lllotto. Virgil, zEn. i. 665.
PAGE 9. Britt‘s/z Preac/zer. Tillotson, ‘ Of Sincerity towards God
and Man.’ The Spectator persistently uses the words ‘British’ and
‘ Britain,’ and this rather extreme application to the great Anglican
divine gives point to the protests of Swift and Prior.
PAGE :0. Ambassador of Bantam. Cf. the Letter of the Indian King,
v01. i. No. 50 (and note).
PAGE 12. Motto. Horace, Sat. I. i. I-Ig.
PAGE 15. Motto. Horace, Sat. I. i. 20-2.
PAGE 18. [l/[otta Ovid, .Metam. i. 746.
- T be famous Conjurer. Duncan Campbell, u. s. See 8.].
PAGE 20. Hudibras, I. i. 8r-2.
—- Speaking Head. See Mr. A. W. Ward’s Introduction to
Greene’s Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay (p. xxv.).
~— Bantarnite. See N o. 5 57, in this volume.
PAGE 2I. .M'otto. Virgil, En. i. 7246.
PAGE 23. Pictures of their deceased Husbands. A humorous reference
to the portraits of the Kit-Cat Club (see vol. i. p. 3I7).
PAGE 24. [mo Gentleman. Cf. vols. i. p. :73, iv. p. 237.
-- Motto. Terence, Ezmuc/zus, I. 112.
—— Cowley. The opening passage of the essay ‘Of Myself.’
Cowley’s text reads ‘ for a man to write of himself.’
PAGE 25. T he Gentlemen of Port Royal. . . . Egotism. This would
seem to be the first example of the word ‘ egotism.’ See the New
English Dictionary, where Addison’s statement as to its origin
is accepted with hesitation. In Hatzfeld and Darmesteter’s French
Dictionary the word is said to be derived from the English. The
word does not appear to be used in either the Port-Royal Logic or
Rhetoric. _
PAGE 26. Sca'lzlger. “ Monsieur de Montagnes. Son Pere estoit ven-
deur de harenc. La grande fadaise de Montague, qui a escrit qu’il
aymoit mieux le vin blanc, que diable a t’on a faire de seavoir
ce qu’il ayme? Ceux de Geneve ont esté bien impudens d’en
oster plus d’un tiers” (Scaliéeiaana, sir/e excerpta ex ore fosep/ii
Scaligen'. Per RF. P.P. eneva, 1666, page 231).
PAGE 28. Motto. Lucan, P/zarsalia, i. I35.
-- [okn a Styles, etc. See p. 78.
PAGE 31. .Motla. Horace, Sat. I. iii. rr7~9.
PAGE 34. illotto. Virgil, Georg. iv. 221-2. 5
PAGE 35. When I still enlarged the idea. Cf. Tatler, N 0. mg
(conclusion).
~1Yzeygenius. The Dutch natural philosopher Christian Huygens
van Zuylichem.
PAGE 38. Motto. Ovid, Ars Amat. ii. 233.
PAGE 42. Motto. Virgil, [En vi. 493.
-- An M and an [2 etc. ‘ Marlborough ’ and ‘ Treasurer.’
-—— T-m Br-wn. Tom Brown. See 5.].
PAGE 44. Motto. Martial, Epigr. I. xxxviii. 2.
NOTES 281
PAGE 46. The Whole Duty of .M'an. See vol. i. p. 330. By ‘J. F.’ No. 565
(Bishop Fell, infra): but the authorship is uncertain. (See
Boswell’s ‘Johnson’ (ed. Birkbeck Hill, ii. 239).)
PAGE 47. lV/otto. Horace, A rs Poet. 434-6. No. 569
—- Whets. See note, vol. i. p. 343. Also vol. iii. p. 200.
PAGE 49. Publilius Syrus 3.—-‘Absentem laedit, cum ebrio qui litigat.’ '
—- Motto. Horace, Ars Poet. 322. ' No. 570
—-- Cetera de-genere, etc. Horace, Sat. I. i. 13-14.
PAGE 50. Master Qf the House. Mr. Daintry. See 8.].
PAGE 51. Charles Mothers. Ante, vols. v. p. 28, vii. p. 109. See B. 1'.
'_ Motto. P NO,
PAGE 52. A Former Spectator—ale. No. 565. Cf. also Nos. 580,
590, and 628.
PAGE 55. Seneca, Epr'st. xli. 2.
— If a man love, etc. John xiv. 23.
$PAGE 56. Motto. Horace, Epist. II. i. 115-6. No, 572.
~—-- Essay against Quachs. Cf. No. 444, vol. vi. p. 170.
)PAGE 58. Fetus, fomentation.
lPAGE 59. Mr. Dryden’s Translation. Aims, xii. 585-597, 607-633.
-— Chalmers repeats an editorial statement that this paper was
written by Dr. Zachary Pearce, Bishop of Rochester, and was
altered by Addison. See note to No. 633.
FPAGE 60. Jldotto. Juvenal, Sat. ii. 35. No. 573.
PAGE 66. Motto. Horace, Odes, IV. ix. 45-9. No. 574.
PAGE 67. Aristiopus. Plutarch, ‘ On Tranquillity,’ viii.
PAGE 68. Life of Dr. Hammond . . . hy Bishop Fell. Ist edit. 1661.
PAGE 69. fllotto. Virgil, Georg. iv. 226. No. 575,
PAGE 72. lVlotto. Ovid, Metam. 72-3. N0. 576.
PAGE 75. Motto. Juvenal, Sat. vi. 614-5. No. 577.
PAGE 76. ParadiseLost, ii. 879-882.
PAGE 78. john a No/ees . . . Kinsman Blanh. Ante, pp. 28-9.
PAGE 79. Motto. Ovid,.1l{etanz. xv. 167-8. N0, 575.
-— The Persian Tales. Another pul‘i~ of Ambrose Philips, whose
Thousand and One Days’ Persian Tales, translated from the
French, is advertised in No. 576 (A) as published that day.
PAGE 83. Motto. Virgil, [En iv. 1 32. No. 579.
PAGE 86. Motto. Ovid, Metain. i. 175-6. No. 550.
—- Two Last Letters. See Nos. 565 and 571, and note on p. 52.
rAGE 90. ll/fotto. Martial, Epigr. i. 16. No. 58L
PAGE 92. Passages in a Lover. Steele’s Lover, written in imitation
of the Tatler, by illarnzaduhe tldyrtle, Gent. , ran to 40 numbers
(25th Feb. to 27th May 1714).
PAGE 93. .Motto. Juvenal, Sat. vii. 51-2. No. 582.
"PAGE 95. W’z'llianz Ramsey’s Vindication of Astrology. William
Ramsey or Ramesey was the author of several works, including
Lux Veritatis ; or Christian judicial Astrology Vindicated, 16 51.
—- filotto. Virgil, Georg. iv. 112-5. ' No. 583.
PAGE 99. tldotto. Virgil, Eclog. x. 42-3. No. 584.
PAGE 102. Alotto. Virgil, Eclog. v. 62-4. No- 585,
PAGE 105. rllotto. Cicero, De Div. ? No, 586.
—-The letter in this number is ascribed to John Byrom
(see 8.1.). ‘

282
THE SPECTATOR
a. 587.
. 588-
°:
O!
IQ:
04

' Persius, Sat. iii. 30.
Cf. Owen, Temptation (1658) vii. 126.
. prove a great Fomes of Sinne.” See
PAGE 108. Adam.
—- Fowcs Peccatz'.
“Naturall tempers . .
New Eng. Dz'ct.
PAGE 111. M'otto.
Cicero, Do Not. Door. i. 44 (I24).
This paper is by Henry Grove. '
See 15’. [.
PAGE 116. Motto. Ovid, [l/[etar/v. viii. 774-6.
PAGE 117. Dryden’s Emails, ix. 125-148.
PAGE 118. Apollom'us (Rhodius), ii.
PAGE 119. illotto. Ovid, .M'etam. xv. 179-185.
—— Essays upon [nfim'tude. See note on N o. 580 supra.
PAGE 121. 1111'. Cowley. Davz'a’ez's, i. 361.
PAGE 122. Emoassady. A unique usage, probably a mistake for
‘ Embassade.’ The form ‘Ambassady’ is found in Luttrell’s
Brief Relation (iii. 65): on which the editor of the New Eng.
Dz'ct. remarks, “i‘ mistake for Ambassadm, or confusion between
it and Ambassade.”
PAGE 123. Motto. Ovid, Twist. III. iii. 73. .
This paper has been ascribedto Eustace Budgell, and the verses
in it to his brother Gilbert (see 3.1.). .
PAGE 126. Motto. Horace, Ars Poet. 409.
The opening paragraph in this paper would seem to have sug~
gested the lines in the Duntz'ad III. (2 53 etc.).
“In yonder cloud behold,
Whose sars’net skirts are edg'd with flamy gold,
A matchless youth! His nod-these worlds controls,
Wings the red lightning, and the thunder rolls.
Immortal Rich 1 how calm he sits at ease
’Mid snows of paper, and fierce hail of peas;
And proud his Mistress’ orders to perform,
Rides in the whirlwind, and directs the storm.”
Pope adds as a note to 1. 256, “ Like Salmoneus in /E1z. vi.”
—-T/ze New T lzzma’er, the invention of ‘surly’ John Dennis.
Cf. Pope’s note (1729) to the lines in the Dzmcz'ao’ (II. 225-6).
“’Tis yours to shake the soul
With Thunder rumbling from the mustard-bowl."
“The old way of making thunder and mustard were the same;
but since, it is more advantageously performed by troughs oi
wood with stops in them. Whether Mr. Dennis was the inventor
of that improvement, I know not; but it is certain, that being
once at a tragedy of a new author, he fell into a great passion at
hearing some, and cried, ‘ ’Sdeathl that is my Thunder.’ ” The
fuller story runs thus :——~“ In 1709, Mr. John Dennis’s tragedy
entitled ‘Appius and Virginia’ was acted. The author on that
occasion introduced a new or an improved method of making
thunder. His tragedy did not succeed, but ‘his other invention
met with the approbation of the managers, and continues in use
upon the stage to this day. Mr. Dennis soon after discovered it in
the tragedy of Macbeth : the discovery threw him into a fury, and,
being addicted to swearing, he exclaimed: “ ’Sdeath ! that ’s my
NOTES 283
thunder. See how the fellows use me; they have silenced my No. 592.
tragedy, and they roar out my thunder.” (The references will be
found in Elwin and Courthope’s Pope, iv. 332.)
PAGE 126. Salmoneus. Cf. ante, vol. i. p. 134.
—- Rz'rne/s Edgar. Thomas Ryrner’s unfortunate ‘heroick
Tragedy ’ Edgar, or the English Monarch was licensed on Sept.
13, 1677, and printed in 1678. (See Genest, i. p. 223.) The
phrase “ at the next acting of .Kz'ng Lear” is obviously a reference
to Rymer’s censure of Shakespeare and his contemporaries in his
Tragedies of the Last Age Considered and his Short View of
Tragedy. So, too, are the subsequent paragraphs on the ‘rigid
criticks.’ -
PAGE 127. Run of three Days. The author’s reward for such success
was a benefit on the third night.
—- A nzong the French. Addison does not name Le Bossu. See
notes, vols. iv. pp. 292, 296, v. 286.
PAGE 128. Terence. Andria. Prologue, 20-1.
-— Dr. South. Sermons (ed. 1842), p. 168.
PAGE 129. Pliny. Nat. Hist. xxxvii. 3.
—— Motto. Virgil, zfin. vi. 270-1. No. 593.
PAGE' 131. Cato. By Addison. Act. V. sc. iii. 9-13, and V. iv.
27'34- .
Motto. Horace, Sat. I. 11?. 81- 5. NO' 594-
-—- A little French Book. Andre Felibien, Description de
Z’Ahhaye de la T rape, Paris, 1689.

PAGE I 34. Motto. Horace, Ars Poet. 12-1 3. NO: 595-
PAGE 136. Motto. Ovid, Heroz'des, xv. 79. NO- 596-
PAGE 139. ‘ Motto. Petronius, P No. 5597.
PAGE 140. New River. See vol. i. p. 21.
—- Those noisy Sla'oes'. Cf. No. 251, vol. iii. p. 305.
PAGE 141. A Small-coal-nzan. This has been said to be an allusion
to Tom Britton, whose portrait by Woolaston was engraved by
Vertue. See Prior’s Lines written under the Print (Aldine edit.
ii. p. 275).
PAGE 142. Motto. Juvenal, Sat. x. 28-30. No. 598.
PAGE 144. T rophonz'zes's Cave. See vol. vii. pp. 116, 314.
-— filotto. Virgil, zfln. ii. 368-9. No. 599.
PAGE 145. T rophonz'us. See No. 598 and note.
PAGE 146. French Protestants. Cf vol. v. p. 29. Also note p. 338.
~—- Funeral. Perhaps a reference to Steele’s play.
PAGE 148. Motto. Virgil, AEn. vi. 641. No. 600.
—— A learned Person. Identified as Lancelot Addison, the ,
Essayist’s father, author of FVe’st Barhary; or a short Narrative
of6 the Revolutions of the Kingdoms of Fez and r'ldorocco. Oxford,
1 71.
PAGE 149. Dr. T illotson somewhere says. Sermon clxv. (ed. Birch).
PAGE I 50. One of the greatest modern Philosophers. Locke, in his
Human Understandingr (ii. ).
PAGE 153. .Motto. Marcus Aurelius, ix. 42. No. 601.
-- Once before. See No. 588 (p. 111).
PAGE 156. Homo out, etc. Ennius, luoted in Cicero, De Oflicz'z's,
i. 16, 51. ‘
IV. 2 P

284 THE SPECTATOR
a. 602.
. 603.
lo. 604.
~lo. 605.
~10. 606.
\10. 607.
NO!
No. 609.

PAGE 157. ll/[otta Juvenal, Sat. vi. 110.
PAGE 158. Emperor of the Mohochs. See note, vol. v. p. 285.
-—- Scowring. See note, vol. iv. p. 294..
PAGE 159. Mr. Dryden’s Translation. The first passage is ll. 156-
171, and the second 11. 242260 of his First Book of Ovid’s Art
of Love. , _
PAGE 160. Motto. Virgil, Eclog. viii. 68.
-- These verses have been ascribed to John Byrom, referred to
above (see 3.1.). ‘Phebe.’ is believed to be Joanna (‘Jug’),
daughter of Richard Bentley, afterwards wife of Denison Cumber-
land, grandson of the Bishop of Peterborough. It was she who
told her son, Richard Cumberland, that her father (to whom the
Spectator was read daily by his children) “was so particularly
amused by the character of Sir Roger de Coverley that he took
his literary decease most seriously to heart.”
PAGE 163. Motto. Horace, Odes, I. xi. 1-3.
-- Lapland. Probably derived from Scheffer’s book.
notes, vol. v. p. 295, and vol. vi. p. 288.
—- Scotland . . . Second Sight.) See notes on Duncan Campbell,
vol. v. p. 285, and vol. vii. p. 317.
PAGE 164. Grand Cairo. See note, vol. i. p. 309.
PAGE 165. Motto. Virgil, Georg. ii. 51—2.
—— Casuist. See Nos. 591, 602, and Nos. 614, 623, and
625. "
JPAGE I69. Motto. Virgil, Georg. i. 293-4.
)PAGE 170. As soon as their mourning is over. Queen Anne died on
1st August 1714. a '
PAGE 172. The Story of her Web. Homer, Odyssey, ii.
PAGE 173. Motto. Ovid, Ars Anzat. ii. 1-2.
'PAGE 174. Dr. Blott’s Natural History of Stafi'ordshire.
vol. vi. p. 295.
PAGE 175. Pig/he, goad.
—- An account of the better-known custom at Dunmow will be
found in Leland (ed. Hearne). See also Chambers’s Booh of Days,
vol. i. p. 748.
PAGE 177. jldotto. Ovid, Ars Aniat. i. 633.
-- “Lord Macaulay, in a letter published p. 1433 *** of Mr.
Bohn’s edition of Lowndes’s Bihlz'ographe/s Manual, calls this
paper ‘undoubtedly Addison’s, and one of his best,’ although not
claimed, because he could not own it without admitting what Lord
Macaulay rightly considered quite as obvious, his authorship of
N0. 623.” (Note in Mr. Morley’s edition.)
lPAGE I78. Honey-Money. So in the early texts; changed, unneces-
sarily, by later editors, to ‘ Hone moon.’
IPAGE I79. rldotto. Juvenal, Sat. i. 6.
—- A Day . . . when . . . you will not have many spare
.Minutes. George I. was crowned at Westminster on this day.
'PAGE 180. Child’s. See note, vol. i. p. 310.
‘PAGE 181. .M'rs. Salmon’s Wax-work. See notes, vol. i. pp. 325,
26.
See
See note,
3 ~--- The Brilpas and the Nilpas.
-—- Your Histories in Enthroidery, etc.
See Nos. 584, 585.
See No. 606.
NOTES 285
PAGE 182. Our own Cozmttjl. There was a tapestry factory at No. 60
Chelsea.
—- Motto. Seneca, Thyertes, 398-403. No. 61
-- Nothing can be great, etc. Longinus, 0n the Sublime, vii.
PAGE 133. The Story of Cages. C]: the Tatler, No. I 38 and 243.
-- Cowley’s Relation. From ‘ The Country Life (Lib. iv.
' Plantarum)’ in Essays, iv. (‘ Of Agriculture’).
PAGE 185. Motto. Virgil, En. iv. 366-7. No, 611
PAGE 186. Front Box. See note, vol. ii. p. 323.
PAGE 187. Last Wednesday in the Ahbey. See note to No. 609.
PAGE 189. Motto. Virgil, En. 529-32. No. 612
PAGE 192. Motto. Virgil, Georg. iv. 564. No. 613
-- Visiting-Days. See note, vol. i. p. 324.
PAGE 193. What shall I do, etc. Cowley, The Motto (‘ Miscel-
lanies,’ p. I, edit. I700).
-- The Melancholy Cowley.
“ Where reverend Charn cuts out his famous way
The Melancholy C outta/"lay."
The C om laz'nt. ‘ Verses written on
Several ccasions,’ ed. r700, p. 25.
PAGE 196. Mom'mc'a is the name of the leading female character in
Otway’s Orphan.
—- Motto. Virgil, 2512. iv. 15-19. No. 614.
PAGE 198'. Andromache . . . Mr thlzlor. See note, vol. v. p. 290.
-- Cowell’s Interpreter. The passage is taken from the article
on ‘ Free-bench ’ in Cowell’s Law Dictionary; or the interpreter
of Words and T erms, used either in the Common or Statute Law:
. . . and in T enures atza’ focular Customs. . . . Very much
augmented and improved, London, 1708, fol. It does not occur
in the early quarto editions.
PAGE 199. Motto. Horace, 0cm, IV. ix. 47-52. . N6, 615,
PAGE- 200. Book of Wisdom, xvii.
PAGE 20!. Horace. Oder, III. iii.
PAGE 202. Motto. Martial, Engr. I. ix. 2. No. 616,
-- Cicero. Perhaps De Oficz'z's, i. 29.
203. Part two a cloth, etc. is a formula of the night-watchman.
“ Two in the Morning is the Word, old Boy ” (A).
PAGE 204. Clz'p’a' the K'z'ng’: English. See references in note to
‘ Mobile’ in No. 617.
—— Sir Richard. Is this an allusion to Steele’s recent Protestant
ebullitions P
-— Motto. Persius, Sat. i. 99-102. N0. 617.
PAGE 205. Marrow-hone and Cleaver. Frequently referred to about
this time as the instruments of mob-music. C/I Tatler, No. 153,
and see the sixth plate of Hogarth’s Idle and [na’urtn'ous
Apprentices.
- The Mobile. This word (placed in contrast with ‘ mob’ in
the letter on p. 203) was hardly an antiquated form at this time.
See vol. ii. p. 193 and note; also the quotations in Skeat’s
Etymological Dictionary (art. ‘ mob ’).
-- T he Cleveland (Lo. the author Iohn Cleveland). Dryden, in
the lowly #Dmmatic Poesy, uses the word Clevela'niism for ‘a

286 THE‘ SPECTATOR
. 617.
a. 618.
0.
qo:
No. 621.
No. 622.
No. 623.

NO: ‘No. 625.
NQI
No. 627.
wresting and torturing a word into another meaning’ ; and, later,
he adds, “to express a thing hard and unnatur-ally, is his new way
of elocution. . . . We cannot read a verse of Cleveland’s without
making a face at it, as if every word were a pill to swallow:
he gives us many times a hard nut to break our teeth, without
a kernel for our pains "’ (ed. Scott and Saintsbury, xv. 287,
3II)- .
PAGE 205. The verses are a translation of a passage in Strada’s
Prolusiones Academicae. (Prolusio- *Sexta, Academia Secunda,
p. 320, ed. Leyden, 1627.) See also note, vol. iii. p. 322.
PAGE 207. Motto. Horace, Sat. I. iv. 40-2. A '
PAGE 209. .Mr. Eusden. In A (No. 606) “This day is published a
Letter to Mr. Addison, on the King’s Accession to the Throne,
by Mr Eusden. Printed for J. Tonson.” _ '
-—-Motto. Virgil, Georg. ii. 369-370.
-- [f the several letters . . . were published. Two volumes
were published in 1725 by Charles Lillie, the perfumer and news-
agent. See note, vol. i. p. 310.
PAGE 210. An Alderman. “An allusion to John Barber, who had
been a bookseller, was at this time an alderman, and afterwards
Lord Mayor of London." (Note in Clzalmers’s edit.) '
-— Dumb filan. Ante, p. 18, note.
-- Lorie Casuist. Ante, p. 270 (No. 605).
--— Society of Reformers. See note, vol. i. p. 316.
-— Nonumgue, etc. Horace, Ars Poet. 388.
PAGE 211. T be Ufbolsterer. Ante, vol. i. p. 184 and note.
-- Dapperwit. Ante, vol. vii. pp. 136, 210, 224.
- Monimia. See p. 196 and note. '
--- lliotto. Virgil, fin. vi. 792.
—- Tire Prospect ry“ Peace (see vol. vii. pp. 317-319) and T In
Royal Progress were written by Thomas Tickell.
PAGE 214. T lzat fair Hill. A note is added in the duodecimo edition
of 1715,—-“ Mr. F lamstead’s House.”
PAGE 215. Halifax. See the Dedication to vol. ii. and note.
PAGE 216. Motto. Lucan, Plzarsalia, ix. 11-14.
PAGE 217. Dry/den. T be Cock and tire Fox, 11. 45 5-460.
PAGE 218. .Motto. Horace, Eput. I. xviii. 103.
PAGE 220. Motto. Virgil, A’Zn. iv. 24-29.
—- Love-Casuist. See p. 270 (No. 605).
-- An ancient Custom. See p. 198.
PAGE 221. Barnaby brig/it. St. Barnabas’ Day, the ‘longest day,’
11th June (O. S.). It was also called Long Barnaby, and
Barnaby-day.
PAGE 223. zliotto. Horace, Sat. II. iii. 77-9. '
PAGE 224. Acted, actuated. See note, vol. iii. p. 314.
PAGE 225. fitotto. Horace, Odes, III. vi. 23-4.
—— Love Casuist. Ante, p. 270 (No. 605).
PAGE 228. C/zild's. See note, vol. i. p. 310.
—- [llotta Ovid, Meta/n. iv. 284.
-- A little war/e of a learned man. Mr. Morley finds an allusion
to the tit/editations of Robert Boyle.
PAGE 233. l’l/l'otto. Virgil, Eclog. ii. 35.
NOTES 8 287
PAGE 235. Motto. Horace, Epz'st. I. ii. 43. NO. 626
—— T lzose upon Jnfinitzcde. See No. 590 and note. _
PAGE 236. The passage from Addison’s Cato printed in the text 18
almost the entire first scene of the fifth Act, which is a soliloquy
by Cato, described thus in the stage direction : “ Cato solzcs, sitting
in a thoughtful posture: in his hand Plato’s Book on_ the
Immortality of the Soul. A drawn sword on the table by him.”
Regarding the Latin translation, Nichols supplies an interesting
note. “This beautiful translation, which fame and Dr. Kippis
have attributed to Bishop Atterbury (and which on that authority,
and on oral tradition in the University of Oxford, I had printed
as his in the'Select Collection of Poems, vol. v. p. 6), I afterwards
found reason (vo'l. viii. p. 302) to ascribe to Dr. Henry Bland,
headmaster of Eton school, provost of the College there, and dean
of Durham (to whom it is also without hesitation ascribed by the
last and best biographer of Addison): and have since had the
honour of being assured by Mr. Walpole that it was the work of
Bland; and that he has more than once heard his father, Sir
Robert Walpole, say, that it was he himself who gave that
translation to Mr. Addison, who was extremely surprised at the
fidelity and beauty of it.” -
PAGE 238. Motto. Juvenal, Sat. i. 170-1. NO. 629.
PAGE 240. Brawn and Mince Pies. Boar’s-head (or brawner’s head),
Christmas- or mince- pies, and plum-porridge had come to be,
since the days of the Commonwealth, the cherished delights of
anti-Puritan households.
“The high-shoe lords of Crcmwell’s making
Were not for dainties—roasting, baking;
The chiefest food they found most good in
Was rusty bacon and bag-pudding;
Plum-broth was p0 ish, and mince-pie—
O that was flat ido atry."
And Hndioras (I. ii. 225)—
“Rather than fail, they will defy
That which they love most tenderly;
Quarrel with minc’d pies, and disparage
Their best and dearest friend, plumb-porridge.”


Cf. vol. iv. p. 71, where Sir Roger de Coverley is hopeful of
a Dissenter who ate plentifully of his plum-porridge at Coverley
Hall. See the article in Chambers’s Book ofDays, p. 755.
PAGE 241. Motto. Horace, Odes, III. i. 2. N9, 630,
PAGE 243. T kanksgiving. This may be, as Chalmers says, a reference
to the Proclamation, issued the da before the publication of this
paper, for a thanksgiving for King George’s accession, to be
observed on 20th january.
—— Paradise Lost, iii. 36 5- 371.
PAGE 244. Hockley in tile Hole. See note, vol. i. p. 326.
PAGE 245. Motto. Horace, Odes, I. v. 5. N0. 631..
—-]n a Stage—Coach. Cf vol. 181, 230, iii. 273, and vii. ‘
221. i
—- .His Periwzlg, collie/c cost no small Sum. Cf Tat/er (No. i
54)—-—“ He answer’d Pkillz's a little abruptly at Supper the same
288 THE SPECTATOR
. 631.
a. 632.
o. 633.
lo.
‘0'

Evening; upon which she threw his Periwig into the Fire. Well,
said he, thou art a brave Termagant Jade ; Do you know, Hussey,
that fair Wig cost Forty Guineas?” Cf. Pepys’s reflections on the
cost of periwigs, then coming into fashion. (Globe edition, by
index.) '
PAGE 245. Plain Spanish. Advertisements of ‘ Plain Spanish Snuff"
are frequent in A. See also the preliminary announcement of the
T atler.
PAGE 248. Motto. Virgil, En. vi. 545.
-- Gregorio Leti. 1630-1701. Afull account is given in Bayle’s
Dictionary.
PAGE 249. You lately recommended Ante, p. 169.
-- .May possibly ascribe. An intended parallel to the last paper
of the original series (No. 555) : but not carried out.
PAGE 250. The making of Grottos. CjI Pope’s description of his
Grotto at Twickenham (Elwin and Court-hope, vi. 385), and his
verses on the same (it. iv. 494). See also Spectator, vol. i. p. 136.
PAGE 251. .Motto. Cicero, Orator, 34, 119.
-- This paper has been ascribed to Zachary Pearce, the editor
of Longinus. Internal evidence favours the view. See note to
No. 572.
PAGE 254. A Fragment of Longinus.
Pearce’s Longinus (ed. 1762, p. 260).
PAGE 256. Motto. Xenophon, P-
ii. 5, II, 27.
-- Longinus excuses Homer. §ix. (Pearce, ed. 1762, p. 48.)
PAGE 258. Motto. Cicero, Somniuni Sczjoionis, 6.
-- A late Spectator. No. 626, ante, p. 229. These papers have
been ascribed to Henry Grove (see B. 1.).
See the first Fragment in
, also Dia'fenes Laertius,
BIOGRAPHICAL INDEX
BIOGRAPHICAL INDEX
OF CONTEMPORARY PERSONS NAMED OR REFERRED
TO IN THE SPECTATOR.
[This Index includes the names of all contemporary jersons referred to, or
directly intended, in the text of the Spectator. The more famous names in the
literary, social, and political history of the time which appear in the Essays are
entered for the sake of completeness, but are not described. Further information
regarding some of the persons described will be found in the Notes.]
Addison, Joseph (1672-1719).
Addison, Lancelot (1632-1703). Dean of Lichfield, father of Joseph
Addison, probably the ‘learned Person ’ of No. 600.
Anne, Queen (1665-1714).
Anthony, ‘ Trusty.’ See Aston, Anthony.
Ascham, Mrs. of Conington, Cambridgeshire, grandmother of Lady
Hatton, identified by some as the ‘ Emilia ’ of N o. 302. See note,
vol. iv. p. 297.
Aston, Anthony (H. 1712 - 1731), actor and dramatist, perhaps
‘T rusty Anthony’ and ‘The Man of the Bumper Tavern.’ See
iv. 292.
Atterbury, Francis (1662-1732), Bishop of Rochester.
Baldwin, Mrs. See vii. 274.
Barnes, Joshua (1654-1712), Professor of Greek at Cambridge, who,
according to Bentley, ‘knew as much Greek as a Greek cobbler.’
His best literary attempt is Gerania, a whimsical voyage of the
Lilliput type. See Tatler, No. 143. .
Barrow, Isaac (1630-1677), mathematician, preacher, and theologian.
He resigned his professorship at Cambridge in favour of his pupil
Isaac Newton.
Baxter, Richard (1615-1691), author of the Saints’ Everlasting Rest.
‘ , Beasniffe, Francis, the supposed ‘ F.B.’ of N o. 443.
Behn, Mrs. Aphra. (1640-1689), dramatist and novelist.
Bell, Mr., named in the Essay on Signboards (No. 28).
Bentley, Joanna (‘Jug’), daughter of Richard Bentley, married, in 1728,
Denison Cumberland. She is the ‘ Phoebe’ of Byrom’s verses in
No. 603. Her son was Richard Cumberland, Goldsmith’s ‘ Terence
of England,’ author .of the Observer and Anecdotes of Spanish
Painters.
Bentley, Dr. Richard (1662-1742), scholar and critic.
291
292 THE SPECTATOR
Betterton, Thomas (1635 ?-1710), actor, ‘the best in the world,’
according to Pepys, and especially renowned in his Shakespearean
rhles. The T atler praises his rendering of Mark Antony, llamlet,
Henry VIII., and Othello (Nos. 1, 71, 167, etc.). He adapted
seven dramas for the stage.
Beveridge, Dr. (1637-1708), Bishop of St. Asaph.
Bicknell, Mrs. (1695 ?-1723), actress, of Scottish descent, and sister
of Mrs. Younger, actress. Steele praises her in the Taller as
well as in the Spectator (see note, v. 297). Her chief parts
were, ‘ Miss Prue,’ in Congreve’s Love for Love, ‘ Lady Wrangle,’
in Cihher’s Refusal, and ‘ Miss Hoyden,’ in Vanbrugh’s Relapse.
Bird, William, servant at the St. james’s Coffee-house (No. 24).
Blackmore, Sir Richard (d. 1729), physician-in-ordinary to William
III. , a voluminous writer in verse and prose. His Prince Arthur,
a heroic poem, appeared in 1695. His Satyr on Wit(1700) was
the occasion of a bitter Grub Street feud, in which Tom Brown,
Garth, Sedley, Steele, and even Dryden joined. His Nature of
.Man appeared in 1711, and, in 1712, Creation, “a philosophical
poem,” which the Spectator praised.
Bland, Dr. Henry, Headmaster and Provost of Eton, Dean of
Durham. See note, viii. 273.
Boileau Despréaux, Nicolas (1636-1711), French poet and critic.
Booth, Barton (1681-1733), actor, pupil of Dr. Busby. He was
intended for the Church, but began as actor in Dublin. He was
aswciated with Betterton at the New Haymarket (1705). He
crowned his reputation in the ‘Cato’ of Addison’s play (April
1713). He wrote a masque, The Death osz'a’o (1716).
Bouhours, Dominique (1628-1702), French litte’rateur, chiefly in~
teresting for his critical work, La manz'ere do him penser dans les
ou'orages d’esprz‘t, Paris, 1687 (often reprinted).
Boul, M12, auctioneer in Chandos-street. (No. 226).
Boyle, Henry, Lord Carleton (d. 1725), politician and holder of
several important Government offices. Vol. iii. is dedicated to
him. It was said that he prompted Addison to write his Blenheim.
Boyle, Hon. Robert (1627-1691), 14th child of the ‘great’ Earl of
Cork, physicist and chemist, member of the Royal Society. He
was also an Oriental student.
Brady, Dr. Nicholas (1659-1726), latterly incumbent of Richmond,
Surrey. He was the collaborator with Nahum Tate in the well-
known metrical version of the Psalms.
Brome, Dr. , clergyman. See note, iv. 297-98.
Brook and Hellier. Thomas Brook and John Hellier, the leading
wine-merchants of the day, whose advertisements are frequent in
the Spectator (A). See notes, iv. 299, v. 294, and viii. 276.
Brown, Thomas (‘ Tom’) (1663-1704), miscellaneous writer and wit.
The most complete edition of his I/Vorhs is the 4 vol. set of 1760.
Buck, Timothy. See vi. 143.
BIOGRAPHICAL INDEX 293
Buckingham, Duke of. See Slzejield.
Buckley, Samuel ((1. 1741), printer in Amen Corner, the first
publisher of the Spectator. See T atler, No. 18.
Budgell, Eustace (1686- I737), miscellaneous writer. He was
Addison’s cousin, and collaborated with him in the Spectator.
He wrote a translation of Theophrastus, started and carried on
T lze Bee (1733-1735), contributed to the Craftsman, and issued
some family monographs on the Boyle family. His later life
was unhappy, and he committed suicide. His style is a poor
imitation of the Addisonian.
Budgell, Gilbert, second brother of Eustace Budgell. See note to
No. 591.
Bullocké Gabriel, 2. freeholder in Northamptonshire. See note,
v. 2 7.
Bullock, William (1657 ?-1740?), actor, praised by Gildon and
others, but quizzed in the T atler (No. 188) in a comparison with
Pinkethman (g.o.). See v. 287.
Burdock, Samuel, servant at the St. james’s Coffee-house. See No. 24.
Burnet, Gilbert (1643-1715), Bishop of Salisbury, historian.
Burnet, Dr. Thomas (1635P-1715), philosophical writer, master of the
Charterhouse ; author of T elluris T lzeoria Sacra, 1681-9 (Englished
in 1684 and 1689).
Busby, Richard (‘ Dr.’) (1606-1695), the famous headmaster of West-
minster School.
Button, Daniel. Proprietor of the famous Coffee-house (Button’s)
in Covent Garden. He had been Addison’s servant. See vol.
viii. p. 265 (note).
Byrom, John (1692-1763), poet. He contributed some pieces to the
Spectator. His Remains were first published in 1773. He
invented a system of shorthand.
Campbell, Duncan (1680?-1730), of Scottish origin, a conjuror and
fortune-teller, the ‘ dumb man’ of No. 560, and of the 14th Tatler.
Defoe published an account of him in 1720. Another account,
Secret Memoirs, appeared in 1732. ~
Carey, Mn, ‘ of New College, Oxford,’ one of the contributors to the
Spectator (see vii. 305). He is probably Walter Carey, M.P.,
afterwards Clerk of the Privy Council, the ‘ Umbra’ of Pope’s 4t/i
Satire and of the Moral Essays (1st Epistle). See especially Pope’s
T liree Gentle S/zeplzerds, Umbra, and Sandys’ Gbost, where he is
associated with Philips and Budgell (Elwin and Courthope, iv. 464,
468, 487). Spence names him as one of Addison’s ‘ chief com-
panions’ before Addison married Lady \Varwick.
Cassani, Guissepe, opera singer. See i. 22.
Cassini, Giovanni Domenico (1625-1712), astronomer, director of the
Observatory at Paris.
Churchill, John, first Duke of Marlborough (1650-1722).
Cibber, Colley (1671-1757), aCtor and dramatic author, laureate.
He wrote, wholly or partly, thirty plays, and he is said to have
294 THE SPECTATOR
‘ collaborated in Steele’s Conscious Lovers. The story of his theatrical
life will be found in his Apology, and incidentally in the T/zeaz‘re and
Anti- T beatre. Steele was a generous admirer in both the Taller
and Spectator.
Clark, Mrs. Margaret, v. 286-9.
Clay, Stephen, of the Inner Temple, son of Edmund Clay, haber-
dasher. See note, 133: also T atler, No. 83. ‘ 1
Clayton, Thomas, of the royal orchestra, associated with Dieupart
(9.11.) and Haym (9.1).) in concert schemes at Drury Lane,
till the success of Italian opera at the Haymarket forced them
to retire to York Buildings. He composed several operas and
concert pieces, among them Addison’s opera of Rosamond, which
is said to be the worst of his feeble efforts. See iv. 290.
Cleland, Colonel, an alleged original of Will Honeycomb. (See
notes, i. 311, 312.)
Cliff, Nathaniel, at ‘The Bible and Three Crowns,’ Cheapside.
See iii. 85.
Clinch of Barnet, a public entertainer in Bartholomew Lane, behind
the New Exchange. He imitated “the Flute, Double Curtel, the
Organ with 3 Voices, the Horn, Huntsman, and Pack of Hounds
. all performed by his natural Voice ” (Advt. in 533 A).
Cole, Mrs. See note, v. 286.
Collier, Jeremy (1650-1726), essayist. His S/zorl View of the English
Stage appeared in 1698.
Congreve, William (1670-1729), dramatist.
Courant, Mr. ii. 274.
Coventry, Anne, Countess of. See note, vol. iv. p. 297.
Cowley, Abraham (1618-1667), poet.
Cowper, Baron, the supposed ‘Manilius ’ of N o. 467.
Crawley, Sir Ambrose. See note, iv. 297.
Dacier, André (1651-1722), classical scholar. His most important
work was the translation of Aristotle’s Poetics (I692), Englished
anonymously in 1705.
Dacier, Madame Anne Tanneguy- Lefevre (1654-1720), classical
scholar, wife of Andre' Dacier. She translated the Iliad (1699)
and the Odyssey (1708).
Daintry, Mr. ‘The Master of the House’ in No. 570. Known as
Captain Daintry, because of his connexion with the Trained
Bands. See Guardian, No. 84.
Darcey, James, Sedbury, Yorkshire. ii. 274.
Dawks, Ichabod (1661-17 30), printer, founder of Dawes’s News-Letter
(4 Aug. 1696). See vi. 296.
Dawson, ‘ Bully,’ the supposed original of Shadwell’s ‘Captain
Hackum,’ a notorious ruffian of the neighbourhood of vWhite
Friars. He is introduced in Tom Brown’s Letters from the Dead
lo the Living.
Day, Mother. viii. 203.
BIOGRAPHICAL INDEX 295
Denham, Sir John (1615-1669), poet.
Dennis, John (1657-1734), critic. The references in the Spectator are,
as in most contemporary writings, at the expense of the unpopular
critic.
Dieupart, Charles (d. 1740?), a Frenchman, violinist and teacher of
the harpsichord. He composed several pieces for the violin and
flute. See Clayton, Thomas.
Dillon, M11, optician in Long-Acre. iii. 304.
Dillon, Wentworth, fourth Earl of Roscommon (1633 P-1685), poet.
Dogget, Thomas (d. 1721), actor, born in Dublin. In 1709-11 he
was partner with Cibber, Wilks, and Swiney in the Haymarket
management. His great part was Ben in Love for Love, which
Congreve is said to have written for him. He wrote one play,
The Country Wahe, and played in it the part of Hob. See
Cibber’s Apolog , passim.
Dorigny, Nicholas (1658-1746). He came to England in 1711, and
was knighted in 1720, after engraving the Raphael cartoons. See
notes, iii. 316, 318.
Dorset. See Sachm'lle.
Dryden, John (1631-1700).
Duke, Colonel Robert. A supposed original of Sir Roger de
Coverley. See note, iv. 298.
Dunlop, Alexander (1684-1747), professor of Greek in the University
of Glasgow.
D’Urfey or Durfey, Thomas (‘Tom’) (1653-1723), a popular writer
of songs and occasional verse and of a few dramas. His songs are
collected in Wit and Mirth, or Pills to Purge Melancholy, Songs
Cgompleat, and other publications. See note, i. 330; also viii.
2 4.
Dyer, John, publisher of Dyer’s News-letter. See notes, i. 333,
vi. 296.
Estcourt, Richard (1668-1712), actor and dramatist, in much repute
as a wit and story-teller. He is the ‘Tom Mirror’ of the T atler
(No. 51). See notes, i. 317, iv. 292. No. 468 contains a
panegyric on his death. D’Urfey has a Prologue for Estcourt’s
Benefit Day (Pills to Purge Mielancholy, ii. 346).
Etheredge, Sir George (163 5 ?-1691), author 01 three comedies, The
Comical Revenge, or Love in a T uh, She i/Vould if she Could, and
T he [Man if Mode, or Sir Fooling Flutter, all of contemporary
interest.
Eugene, Prince (1663-1736).
Eusden, Laurence (1688-17’30). poet-laureate, author of occasional
verse, including a contribution to Steele’s .Miscellanies of 1714 on
the Milton critiques in the Spectator. He is satirized in the Duncz'ad.
Eyleses, The. See note, iii. 314.
Farquhar, George (1678-1707), dramatist.
Festeau, M., French surgeon. See v. 189.
296 THE SPECTATOR
Fielding or Feilding, Robert (‘ Handsome’ or ‘ Beau’) ( I6 51 P4712),
a notorious rake of the Denbigh family. He is the ‘Orlando’
of the Tatler (Nos. 50, 51).
Flamsteed, John (1646-1719), the first astrgno‘mer-royal.
Fleetrgvood, William (1656-1723), Bishop of St. Asaph, and afterwards
o Ely.
Francham, ML, of Norwich. vii. 316.
Fuller, Francis (1670-1706), medical writer, author of the Medicina
Gymnastz'ca. See ii. 122.
Garth, Sir Samuel (1661-1719), physician and littérateur, author of the
Dispensary, (1699).
‘Gatty,’ Mrs. See vi. 150, vii. 155, and note.
George I. (1660-1727).
Golding, Mr. iii. 323.
Goodwin, Thomas, President of Magdalen College, Oxford. See
vii. 313.
Graham, 1., auctioneer, at the ‘Three Chairs’ in the Piazza, Covent
Garden. i. 256.
Grant, ‘ Dr.’ Roger (d. 1724), oculist to Queen Anne and George 1.,
yet known to be a quack. He lived in Mouse Alley, Wapping.
See the reference to him in vol. vi. p. 173.
Grimaldi, Nicolino, or Nicolini, Nicolino Grimaldi, known as
Gignor Nicolini (i. 49), or Signor Grimaldi (i. 53), (1673-—
1726—), a famous Italian singer who came to England in 1708.
His first appearance was in Haym’s ( .71.) arrangement of
Smrlatti’s Pyrr/zus and Demetrius. e sang in Camilla,
Alma/tide, Hydaspes, and Rinaldo. Cf. D’Urfey’s verses, entitled
Capom'a’es : or Lyrical Remarks Made on the fizmous Szgm'or
Cavalz'ero Nico—--— Gn'mala'z', lemlg'lzted ly the Doge of Venice, etc.
(Pills to Purge Melancholy, 1).
Grove, Henry (1684-1738), dissenting preacher and tutor, contributor
to the Spectator, and author of several sermons and essays on ethics
and metaphysics.
Gurnley, M12, glass merchant in the New Exchange. See vii. 315.
Gwyn, Eleanor (‘ Nell ’) (1650-1687), actress, mistress of Charles II.
Halifax. See Montagu.
Halley, Dr. Edmund (16564742), astronomer.
Handel (correctly Haendel), George Frederick (1685-1759), the well-
known musical composer, of German origin. He arrived in
England in 1710.
Hardwicke. See Yorke.
Harper, Robert, conveyancer. 312.
Harris, Renatus, organ-builder. vii. 292.
Hart, Nicholas (b. 1698), sailor, ‘ the annual sleeper,’ son of a tutor
of William III. “ He was a patient at St. Bartholomew’ s for stone
and gravel . . . and, on 3rd August 1711, set his mark to an
BIOGRAPHICAL INDEX 297
account of himself, when he expected to fall asleep on the 5th of
August, two days later. His account was signed by William Hill,
sen., N o. 1. Lincoln’s Inn.” (Note in .Mr. .Morley’s edition.)
Haym, Nicolino Francesco (d. 1730?), musician and numismatist, of
German origin, one of the Clayton trio (9.7).). He composed the
operas of Camilla and Etearco, adapted many, and wrote some
sonatas. He came to England in 1704.
Heidegger, John James (1659 ?-1749), of Swiss origin, manager of
the opera-house and of the masquerades. His portrait is in the
clock of the large masquerade ticket by Hogarth (1727), and at the
windgw of Hogarth’s ‘Taste of the Town’ (1724). See note,
1. 31 .
Hellier, John. See Brooh and Hellz'er.
Henley, Anthony ((1. 1711), politician and wit. He was a member of
the Kit-Cat Club, and is said to have been a contributor to the
T atler and to the Memoirs of Scrihlerns.
Henley, John (‘ Orator Henley ’) (1692-1756), a preacher, satirized in
the Dunciad (ii. and iii.), author of a poem on Esther and of a
number of pamphlets on oratory.
Heywood, James (1687-1776), linen-draper in Fish Street Hill, the
‘ Mr. Beaver’ of No. 49 and the ‘James Easy’ of No. 268. He
was the author of a volume of Letters and Poems on Several Suhjects
(1722L
Hill, Aaron (1685-1750), poet and letter-writer, author of the opera of
Rinaldo, for which Handel wrote the score. He wrote seven plays,
and his collected Worhs appeared in 4 vols. in 17 5 3.
Hill, William, of Lincoln’s Inn. See under Hart, Nicholas.
Hirst, James. See i. 343.
Hughes, John (1677-1720), contributor to the Spectator, as also to the
Tatler, in which he is probably the ‘Caelicolo’ of N0. 211. He
sent, according to Carruthers, several pieces to the Poetical
[Idiscellarzies of 1714, but, alarmed by the tone of Pope’s Wife of
Bath, withdrew all but two short anonymous poems. He was
the author of a tragedy, T he Siege of Damascus, and he translated
Fontenelle’s Dialogues of the Dead. See the account of him in
Steele’s Theatre, N o. 15.
Ince, Richard, of Gray’s Inn, contributor to the Spectator.
Johnson, Benjamin (I665P-1742) actor, Dogget’s successor in his
leading parts. He sustained his reputation during a long life,
and was much applauded for his renderings of some of Ben
Jonson’s characters, notably ‘ Morose ’ and ‘ Corbaccio.’
Jones of Newing'ton, one of Dr. Grant’s (g.o.) ‘cases.’ See vi. 298.
Keen, Edward, ‘the father of twenty children.’ See v. 104.
Kempenfelt, Magnus (1665-1727), father of the famous rear-admiral
Richard Kempenfelt, said to have supplied some of the traits of
‘Captain Sentry.’ He was a native of Sweden; he attained the
rank of lieutenant-colonel in the English army, and was latterly
lieutenant-governor of Jersey.
298 THE SPECTATOR
Kidney, Mr., head-waiter at the St. Iames’s Coffee-house (No. 24).
See T atler, Nos. 1, 69, etc.
Kneller, Sir Godfrey (1646-1723), painter, of German origin (his
name was Gottfried Kniller), who came to England in 167 5. He
was, in 1711, appointed governor of the first academy of paint-
ing. He painted the series of Kit-Cat portraits (see i. 317), and
many portraits of royal and notable persons, some of which are pre-
served at Hampton Court. Dryden, whose portrait was painted
by him several times, has written his panegyric.
Lacy, John. See note, vi. 287.
Lawrence,

, actor. i. 115
Le Bossu, René (1631-1680), critic, canon of Sainte-Geneviéve. His
T raz'te’ a’a Poeme epz'gue appeared in 167 5, and was Englished by
‘W. J.’ in 1695.
Lee, Nathaniel (1653-1692), dramatist. His chief play, The Rival
Queens, or the Death of Alexander the Great, was produced in
1677. He collaborated with Dryden.
L’Estrange, Sir Roger (1616-1704), pamphleteer, and licenser of
the Press ; translator of Quevedo, Letters from a Portuguese Nun,
Seneca’s Morals, and [Esop’s Fahles.
Lillie, Charles, perfumer, at the corner of Beaufort-Buildings, Strand.
He acted as agent for the sale of the Spectator. He had been one
of the agents for the T atler.
Lloyd, Edward (fl. 1668—1726), keeper of Lloyd’s Coffee-house (see
note, i. 335), and founder of Lloyd’s News (1696, revived 1726),
of Lloyd’s Lists, and of the well-known shipping Register.
Locke, John (1632-1704), philosophical writer.
London & Wise. See note, i. 314-5. George London was chief
royal gardener (Evelyn’s Quintinye, 1693). See Wz'se.
Lorrain, Paul (d. 1719), ordinary of Newgate.
Lowndes, William (1652-1724), financier. See note, vi. 296.
Lulli, Giovanni Battista (1633-1687), French composer, and founder of
the French Grand Opera. See note, i. 325.
Manley, Mrs. Mary de la Riviére (1672-1724), authoress of the New
Atalantz's (1709).
Mann, Jenny, proprietrix of the Tilt-yard Coffee-house. See ii. 330.
Marlborough, Duke of. See Churchill.
Martyn, Henry (d. 1721), lawyer and scholar, contributor to the
Spectator. Supposed by Chalmers to have been the model of ‘ Sir
Andrew F reeport,’ and by some the Lottz'las of N o. 143.
He replied to Defoe’s Jl/[ereator in the British Merchant (1713).
Mather, Charles, toy-dealer in Fleet Street, near Chancery Lane, the
‘ Charles Bubbleboy’ of the Taller (Nos. 27, 113, etc.). He is
referred to in Swift’s Virtues of Sid Hamet the Magician’s Red
(1710).
Methuen, Sir Paul (1672-1757), diplomatist. See i. 333, vii. I.
BIOGRAPHICAL INDEX 299
Millar, Sergeant James (later Captain). He fought in 1745 under
Cumberland.
Minshul, Mr. See ii. 274.
Montagu, Charles, 1st Earl of Halifax (1661-1715).
Montgomery, M12, merchant. See vii. 317.
Moore, Mr. , quack. He advertised an infallible remedy against
worms.
More, Dr. Henry (1614-1687), philosophical and theological
writer.
Morecraft, Thomas, said by some to have been the original of
‘ Will Wimble.’ See note, ii. 330.
Moreton, John, linen-merchant. iii. 323, vii. 270.
Motteux, Peter Anthony (1660-1718), dramatist, and translator of
Rabelais and Don Quixote. See Dryden’s verses, To my friend
Mr. Motteux.
Newton, Sir Isaac (1642-1727).
Nicolini. See Grintala’z'.
Norris, Henry (1665-1730 P), actor. He frequently performed at
Bartholomew Fair (i. 166), but his reputation as an actor was
made at Drury Lane. After his success as Dicky in Farquhar’s
Constant Couple, or A T rip to the/uhz'lee, he was known, even in
the theatre bills, as ‘Jubilee Dicky.’
Oates, Titus (1649-1705).
Ogilby, John (1600-1676), translator, printer, and cosmographer. He
translated the finez'a’ in 1649, lEsop’s Fahles in 1651, the Iliad in
1660, and the Odyssey in 1665. He is satirized in MacFlechnoe
and the Duncz’ad.
Oldfield, Mrs. Anne (1683-1730), an actress of great beauty and
talent. Her chief parts were ‘ Lady Townley ’ and ‘ Cleopatra.’
Oldham, John (1653-1683), writer of satirical verse.
Osborne, Francis (1593-16 59), miscellaneous writer. His chief work
is Advice to a Son (1656, 1658).
Otway, Thomas (1652-168 5), dramatist.
Page, Susanna. See vi. 145.
Pakington, Sir John. See note, i. 311.
‘ Palmquist,’ Monsieur. See note, i. 333.
Parker, Richard. See note, vii. 311.
Parkes, John. See Spar/cos, fo/m.
Parnell, Thomas (1679-1718), poet, contributor to the Spectator,
author of The Hermit and other pieces. He wrote the Essay on
Homer which was printed with Pope’s translation of the Iliad.
The first collective edition of his poems was published p0sthumously
by Pope in 1721.
Parr, John (1633 P-I716?), nonconformist minister. Sec V. 298.
Pearce, Zachary (1690-1774), Bishop of Rochester. He was known
later as the editor of Cicero’s Do 0ra/ore(1716), and, especially. of
Longinus 0n the Sublime (1724). See note, viii. 274.
IV. 2 Q
300 THE SPECTATOR
Penkethman. See Pz'nket/mzan.
Peter, John. See note, iii. 318.
Petty, Sir William (1623-1687), political economist.
Philips, Ambrose (1675 P-1749), poet, contributor to the Spectator,
where, as in the Taller, he received high editorial praise. He
was one of Addison’s coterie, and one of Pope’s enemies after the
latter’s satirical attack on his Pastorals. Henry Carey’s sobriquet
of ‘ N amby Pamby’ has outlived his Pastorals.
Pinkethman, William (1692-1724), actor and showman. His comic
vein (which was popular) was rather that of the merry-andrew, and
he was appropriately nicknamed ‘ Pinkey.’ See i. 326.
Pope, Alexander (1688- 1744).
Powell, George (1658 P-1714), actor of some repute (in the manner of
Betterton), and dramatist. He acted Portius in Addison’s Cale.
His earlier chief parts were Falstaff, Macbeth, Cortez, and Face
(in the A lclzemz'st). He wrote Alp/201230, King of Naples.
Powell, Martin (fl. 1710-1729), puppet-showman, who repeated and
satirized the operas at the Haymarket on his marionette stage in
the Piazza, Covent Garden. He was a dwarf. See note, i. 320.
Preston, Elizabeth, vi. 144. Her father and grandfather were
keepers of the Bear Garden at Hockley-in-the-Hole. .-
Prince, Mr. , stage-dancer. See vi. 255.
Purcell, Henry (1658-1695), musical composer. See note, i. 325.
Rapin, René (1621-1687), scholar and Latin poet. His Réflexz'orzs sur
la Paéz‘z'que d’An'stoz‘e (1674) was translated by Rymer.
Rawlinson, Thomas (1681-172 5 ), book-collector, the supposed
original of ‘ Tom Folio’ of the T atler. See vii. 321.
Read, Sir William (d. 1715), originally a tailor, latterly a travelling
quack. From 1694 he practised at York Buildings, Strand, and
in 170 5 he was knighted. See D’ Urfey’s Pills to Purge Melancholy,
vol. i. p. 35.
Rich, Christopher (d. 1714), manager of Drury Lane Theatre. See
note, i. 314.
Robin, the porter at Will’s Coffee-house (N o. 398).
Rochester. See Wilmol.
Roderick, Dr. Charles, of Eton. See note, ii. 339.
Roscommon. See Dillon.
Rossi, Italian opera librettist. See note, i. 314.
Rowley, John, maker of mathematical instruments, whose astronomical
model (adapted from one by George Graham, clockmaker), made
for the 2nd Earl of Orrery, was the first known by the name of
‘ orreiy.’ See T lee Guardian (N 0. I) and 771: Englishman (N0. 11).
Rymer, Thomas (16414713), historian and critic. See Rajn'n.
Sacheverell, Henry (1674 P-1724), preacher, impeached for seditious
libel in 1710. See note, i. 338.
BIOGRAPHICAL INDEX 301
Sackville, Charles, sixth Earl of Dorset and Earl of Middlesex
(1638-1706), author of a number of short poems, including ‘T 0
all you ladies now at land.’
Saint-Evremond, Charles de Saint-Denys de (1613-1703), French
exile, who lived in London from 1662. He was an habitué of
Will’s Coffee-house. His works were published posthumously.
Salmon, Mrs., exhibitor of waxworks. See note, i. 325.
Scarron, Paul (1610-1660), French writer of burlesques, comedies,
and the Roman comigue.
Scawen, Sir William, merchant. See 323.
Scott, John, D. D. (1639-16951), divine. See note, vi. 295. Wood’s
statement that he was a Canon of Windsor is examined in the
article in the Diet. Nat. Biog.
Scudéri, Madeleine de (1607-1701), French writer of romances, the
chief being [bra/aim, the Grand Cyrus, and Clélie.
Sedley, Sir Charles (I639?-I701), dramatist and wit, author of the
jl/[uloerW-Gara’en (I668), Bellamira, or T lie JWz'stress (1687), and
other plays.
Sheffield, John, Duke of Buckinghamshire, Earl of Mulgrave (1649-
1721), author of the Essay on Satire and the Essay on P08l7jl.
Shadwell, Thomas (1642-1692), dramatist and poet-laureate
(1688-1692).
Shepheard or Sheppard, Miss Margaret, English governess in
Stockholm, the supposed ‘Leonora’ of Nos. 140 and 163, a kins-
woman of Sir Fleetwood Sheppard, poet and courtier, who lived
1634-1698.
Sherlock, William (1641 ?-17o7), D.D., Dean of St. Paul's, author
of A Practical Discourse concerning Deal/z (I689).
Shovel, Sir Cloudesley (1650-1707), admiral.
Simpson, Professor, vii. 317. Perhaps intended for Robert Simson,
M.D., elected Professor of Mathematics in the University of
Glasgow in 1711.
Sly, John (d. 1729), haberdasher and tobacconist, the “ hatter of
facetious memory” (Dr. Hoadly), and the “ famous haberdasher, so
often mentioned in the Spectator” (Evening Post, 15 April 1729).
Smalridge, Dr. George (1663- 1719), Bishop of Bristol, an oppo-
nent of Bentley in the dispute about the Letters of Pbalaris.
Smith, Edmund (1672-1710), poet. See notes, i. 312, 322.
Snape. Dr. Andrew (1675-1742), Provost of King’s College, Cam-
bridge. One of Dr. Hoadly’s opponents in the Bangorian con-
troversy.
Somers, John, Lord (1651-1716), Lord Chancellor of England (1697).
He made his reputation as one of the counsel for the Seven Bishops
on June 29, 1688, ‘the most dangerous day ’ of the Dedication to
vol. i. of the Spectator. He was President of the Royal Society.
302 THE SPECTATOR
South, Dr. Robert (1634-1716), divine.
Southerne, Thomas (1660-1746), dramatist.
Sowton, John, servant at the St. James’s Coffee-house. See i. 92.
Sparkes, John (1682-1733), a native of Coventry, “a gladiator by
profession” (so runs his epitaph), who “fought 350 battles in the
principal parts of Europe with honour and applause.”
Spencer, Charles, 3rd Earl of Sunderland (1674-1722). Succeeded
1702. Politician and book-collector.
Sprat, Thomas (1635-1713), divine and littérateur. His History of
the Royal Society of London appeared in 1667, and his Life of
Cowley in 1668.
Steele, Richard (1672-1729).
Stratford, M11, Hamburg merchant. See v. 292.
Sunderland, Earl of. See Spencer.
Swan, Mr. See i. 229.
Swift, Jonathan (1667-1745).
Sydenham, Dr. Thomas (1624-1689), physician and medical writer.
Tate, Nahum (1652-1715), poet-laureate. He collaborated with
Dryden in Absalom and Achitojbhel (2nd Part). See Brady.
Temple, Sir William (1628-1699), diplomatist and essayist.
Thomas, Enos. See ii. 275.
Thornhill, Richard (d. 1711). He killed Sir Cholmondeley Dering
in a duel on 9th May 1711 (see ii. 324). He was tried on
18th May 1711, and found guilty of manslaughter. Swift says
he was murdered on Turnham Green, August 1711 (journal to
Stella).
Tickell, Thomas (1686-1740), poet, contributor to the Spectator and
Guardian, and one of Addison’s coterie. Author of the Prospect
of Peace, and translator of the Ist Book of the Iliad.
Tillotson, John (1630-1694), Archbishop of Canterbury.
Tofts, Mrs. Katherine (d. 1760 ?), actress and singer. She sang
with her rival Marguerite de l’Epine in the first opera Arsinoe ; and
in the second, Camilla, she played the title-role to Valentini who
took the part of the hero—she in English, he in Italian. See note,
i. 322. She retired from the stage in 1709, suffering from mental
disease. See Tatler, No. 20.
Toland, John (Janus Junius) (1669 P-1722), a leading controversialist
on the Deistic side.
Tom, ‘the Tyrant,’ head waiter at White’s Coffee-house. See note,
i. 336.
Tonson, Jacob (1656 P-1736), bookseller. See note, i. 317. See also
the Kit-Cat series of portraits referred to, i. 317 : also (for a literary
depreciation) Dryden’s lines on him.
‘Upholsterer, The.’ See note, i. 336; and art. “Arne, Thomas,” in
Diet. Nat. Biog.
BIOGRAPHICAL INDEX 303
Vaillant, M12, bookseller. See vi. 293.
Villiers, George, Duke of Buckingham (1627-1687), joint author of
the [Be/zearsal (1671).
Viner, Sir Robert, Lord Mayor of London. See vi. 241.
Walker, Dr. Thomas, headmaster of Charterhouse School.
Waller, Edmund (1605-1687), poet.
Warner, John, goldsmith, near Temple Bar. See vii. 294.
Warner, Richard, of Lincoln’s Inn. See note, vii. 197.
Watt. ‘ Powder-W'att,’ iii. 307.
Watts, Isaac (1674-1748), divine and hymn-writer.
Weaver, John ((1. I760), dancing-master. See note, v. 290.
Wharton, Thomas, Earl (and Marquis) of Wharton (1640-1715), the
reputed author of Lillz'oullero.
Whiston, William (1667-1752), theologian and mathematician. He
succeeded Newton at Cambridge.
Wilks, Robert (1670-1732), actor and theatre-manager.
William III. (1650-1702).
Wilmot, John, 2nd Earl of Rochester (1647-1680), poet.
Winstanley, Henry (fl. 1703), architect. See note, ii. 339.
Winstanley, Mrs, widow of the preceding. She carried on the
exhibition of the ‘ VVater-VVorks,’ inaugurated by her husband.
See note, 339.
Wise, Henry (1653-1738), partner of George London, landscape
gardener. See London and le'se.
Woolston, Thomas (1669-1733), metaphysical and theological writer.
Wycherley, William (1640-1715), dramatist.
Yorke, Philip (1690-1764), afterwards Earl of Hardwicke. Sec V. 294.
GENERAL INDEX
(w
GENERAL INDEX
In the hfusent reprint the eight volumes of the original issue are hound in four.
references in this index: remain, however, as for eight uolumes, so fiages
mentioned as in Vols. 2, 4, 6, and 8 are to be found in this edition in the latter
half of Vols. 1, 2, 3, and 4 respectz‘oeb'. The notes originally at the end of
each single volume now flllorw on together at the end of each double volume.
The Roman letters indze'ate the volume of the original eight-volume tissue. The
more important notes are indexed; hut the reader is recommended to consult
the notes when only the text reference is given. The references to Greek and
Latin authors are to the text, not to the mottos.
A
Ahbey de la T rappe, viii. 133.
A bsent-lldindedness, i. 291.
Academy of Compliments, The,
i. 137.
Academy for Politics, iv. 208 etc.
-<~’Acadenly, Lil'em’J/a Proposed, ii‘ .
I93, 834-
Achilles, 1. 171.
Acrostics, i. 225, 230, 231, 233,
239. ' ‘
Actors, Strollzng, 1. 180.
Addison, [oseph, referred to by
Steele, vii. 214; hymns by,
vi. 163, 206, 253; 60,
145. See Notes, passini.
For Essays by him, see
Headings.
Addison, Lancelot. viii. 269.
Adrian, the Emperor, iii. 322;
vii. 215.
Adultery, 0n, viii. 83.
Advice to a Daughter, i. 137.
Eszeas, i. 148, 236, 268, 281..
lEneid. See Virgil.
fischylus, iv. I30.
Escnlajoius, iii. 69; v. 40.
(Ewe, _i. 67 ; iii. 55, 287.

‘Afictation, 0n, i. 139.
Agrippa, Cornelz'ns,.viii. 18.
'Alabaster, .Dr., iii. 197.
Albertus, Magnets, i. 208.
Alcaeus, iii. 243.
AlczZz'ades, iii. 145 etc. \
Alcoran, The, ii. 17, 51; v. 131.
Aldus, v. 188; vi. 271.
Alexander the Great, i. 11 3- 5,
118: 133.42 146.: I48: 180‘1 ;
ii. 167; v. 228; vi. 116, 156;
130, 182, 257.
All for Love, i. 148. '
Almahide, Opera of, iii. 232.
Almanza, Battle of, i. 28.
Almanzor, ii. 311, 339 ; iii. 321 ;
' v. 162.
Alnaschar, Fahle of, mi. 228.
Alp/tens of Mytilene, translated,
vii. 286.
Alps, Traveller on the, iii. I 58.
Amazons, i. 22, 6o.
Ambition, On, iii. 187 etc., 204
etc.; viii. 49, 192, 224.
Amorous Cluh, The, i. 111.
Amorous Gentleman, Letter from
an, viii. 136.
Amorous Widow, The, or The
Wanton Wife, v. 179, 295.
Anacharsis, viii. 47.
Anacreon, vii. 151, 287.
Anagram-s, i. 230-239; vi. 255.
Ancora (Encore), v. 9.
Andrews, Bishop, i. 228.
Andronzache, i. 212.
Angela, lV/z'chael, iii. 225.
Anglesea, Lord, vii. 221.
Animal World, The, vii. 166 etc.
Anjon, Duke of, vi. 31.
Anne Boleyn, vi. 9-12.
Anne, Queen, Reign of, 74.
, Death of, viii. I70.
‘ Anoafilne Fotus,’ The, viii. 57.
Antanaclasis, i. 22 .
A ntzlgomrs, viii. 2 53.

307
308
THE SPECTATOR
Q
Antipater translated, vii. 285-6.L-—-A21gustus (Caesar), iii. 82; iv. 7,
Antzlohanes, iv. 147.
Apelles, ii. 307; viii. 253.
Apicius, i. 189.
Apocrypha, The, i. 218, 277.
Apollodorus, iii. I31.
Appian I/Vay, viii. 190.
Applause, On, viii. 182, 192.
April Fools, i. 175-6.
A puleius quoted, ii. 20; v. 65.
Arabian Nights, The, iii. 98. See
Persian Tales.
Arcadia, The, i. 55, 137.
i Archimedes, ii. 286.
Aretine, i. 87.
Argument, Methods of, iii. 108,
264 etc.
‘ A rgnmentnm
263.
Ariosto, iv. 17 5.
Am'stinetus, i. 231 ; iii. 261 etc.
Aristippus, viii. 67.
Aristophanes, i. 86; vi. 248.
Aristotelians, i. 208.
Aristotle, i. 8, 143, 145-7, 159,
200, 228 ; ii. 272, 285, 306;
iii. 174, 263 ; iv. 8, 61-3, 82,
84-6. 104. 130, 131-3. 152,
173'5, I7_8: 255,..257a 279;
v. 228; v1. 57; v11. 11, 207,
278; viii. 96, 127.
Armida, Opera of, i. 22, 23, 56.
See Rinaldo.
Army, The, viii. 39.
Arsinoe, Opera of, iv. 29.
Art of Criticism, The, iv. 7-10.
Artemisia, Queen, viii. 198.
Ascalaphus, i. 209.
Basz'linum,’ iii.
.. Asia, viii. I63.
Aspasia, iii. 290.
A sterishs in I/Vritings, vin. 42,
44.
Aston, Anthony, iv. 292.
Astrop Wells, ii. 261.
As You Like It, ii. 287.
Atalantis, The New, i. 137.
Atheism, On, iii. 66 etc. ; v. 261
etc. See Freethinhing.
Atomical Philosophers, iii. 69.
Atterhury, Bishop, vi. 295; viii.
_273.
Athens, v. 249.
111, 140; vi. 31, 51; viii. 69,
257.
Aurelius, Marcus, i. 221 ; ii. 170;
viii. I74, 257.
Avarice, i. 203; viii. 224.
B
Baal, i. 277.
Backgammon, ii. 90; iv. 51.‘
Bacon, Flitch of, viii. 174, 177.
Bacon, Sir Francis, i. 39, 71,
256; ii. 285; iii. 33; v. 262;
vi. 58, 181 ; vii. 98, 299.
Bacon, Friar, viii. 20.
Baher’s (Sir Richard) Chronicle,
i. 137; iv. 72; v. 33, 329.
Baldwin, Firs, vii. 274, 322.
Ballads, References to, i. 263, 279 ;
ii. 18, 19; iii. 293.
Balzac, Letters, quoted, v. 136.
Banguo, i. 169.
Bantam, Ambassador of, viii. 10.
Bantamite, A, viii. 20.
Baptista della Porta, ii. 21.
Barhadoes, i, 43-5; v. 280.
Barmaids, ii. 264.
Barnaby-bright, viii. 221.
Barn Elms, ii. 41.
Barnes, foshua, iii. 286.
Barrow, Isaac, ii. 91 ; iv. 70.
Bartholomew Fair, i. 190; vi.
- 217.
Basilius Valentinus, ii.- 328;
vi. 111.
Bastille, ii. 123.
Bath, ii. 261 ; iii. 42.
Bavaria, Duke of, ii. 305.
Bawlers, ii. 239.
Baxter, Richard, ii. 17 ; vi. 174 ;
viii. 43.
Bayes, [1112, i. 306. See Dryden.
Bayle’s Dictionary, ii. 43, 142 ;
iii. 50, 264.; vi. 200; vii. 145.
Bear-Garden, The, vi. 143, 191.
Beasnzf'e, Francis, vi. 293.
Beau, A Dirty, viii. 245.
~ Beaumont and Fletcher, ii. 215;
iii. 248; iv. 72; v. 159, 162.
Bean’s Head, Dissec/ion of, iv. 90
etc., 271.
Beauties, On, ii. 224.
GENERAL INDEX ‘
309
iv. 8, 84, 204; vi. 31, 51;
vii. 276 ; viii. 127.
Bolingbrohe, iii. 314.
Bond’s Horace, iv. 136.
Bookseller): Shop, Scene in, vi. I 53.
Boon, Lady Mary, i. 224.
Booth, Barton, v. 52.
Bossu. See Le Bossu.
Bouchain, ii. 335; vii. 225.
Bouhours, i. 235.
Boul, Mn, auctioneer, iii. 916.
‘ Bouts Rimez,’ i. 225-7.
Bow Street, vi. 54.
Boyle, Henry, I.
Boyle, Robert, ii. 49, 144 ; v. 262 ;
vii. 299.
Bracton, vii. 34.
Brady, Dr. ZVicholas, ii. 314.
Brag Table, iv. 225.
Breeding, Good, ii. 135'7.
Bride-Cake, viii. I40.
Bn'dewell, Hospital of, i. 32.
‘ British Common, Yhe,’ i. 9.
‘British Fisheey, The,’ 290.
British Prince, The, i. 160.
Broad Street, vii. 129.
Bronze, Dr. , iv. 297, 298.
Bronze, Richard, vi. 266.
Brampton, vi. 204.
Brook and Hellier, iv. 266 ; v. 163 ;
viii. 276.
Brown, Tom, viii. 42.
Browne, Szr Thomas, 111. 35;
vn. 52—3.
Browne, William, v. 285.
Bruno, Giordano, v. 261.
Brutus, i. I 57 ; v. 178, 249 ; vii.
126; viii. 173.
Brzeyére. See La Bruye‘re.
Beech, Timothy, vi. 143.
Buckingham, Duhe of.
Villiers ,' Rehearsal.
Buchinghamshire, Duke of. See
See
Beauty, Oh, i. 121 ; vii. 132 etc.
Beaux Esprtts, i. 223.
Beef-Steak Club, The, i. 36.
Beggars, vi. 125; viii. 193.
‘Beggars, The Merry,’ iii. 239.
Behaviour in Church. See
Church.
Behaviour in Streets, v. 133.
Behn, Aphra. See Oroonoko and
Rover.
Bell, Mn, i. 104.
‘ Bellair,’ i. 246.
Belle Sauvage, The, i. 104, 249.
‘ Benefit of the Ram,’ 221.
Benevolence, vi. 267 ; viii. III,
153.
Bentley, Dr. Richard, ii. 304.
--—-, foanna. See Phoebe.
Berkshire Ladies, viii. 199.
Betterton, i. 168.
Beveriafge, Dr., ii. 203.
Bible (The ‘Adultery’), viii. 83.
‘ Bible and Three Crowns,’ in
. Cheapsidc, iii. 85.
Bichnell, Mrs., v. 201.
‘Bien-seance,’ ii. 284; iii. I 54.
Billet-Dome, An ‘ Antediluvian,’
viii. 101.
‘ Billingsgate,’ iii. 290, 323; vi.
199-
Bird, William, at the St. fames’s,
1. 92.
Bishopsgate Street, vii. 132.
‘Bite’ A, and ‘Biter i. 176,
335; ii. 268; vii. 112, 113.
Blachmore, Sir Richard, i. 25 ;
v. 76, 291 ; vii. 26o.
Blach Prince, The, v. 33.
Bland, Dr., viii. 273.
Blanhs, On, viii. 28, 78. .
Blenheim, i. 97; ii. 305; viii. I71,
193.
Blind jl/fan’s Buj‘, vi. 210.
Blindness, vi. 276.
Blois, 64.
‘Blun't,’ in Aphra Behn’s Rover,
1. 190.
Boarding-Schools, iv. 2 51-2.
Boccalini, iv. 155; v. 137; vii. I51.
Beethius, Hector, ii. 215.
Joiteau, i. 22, 126, 175, 233, 235,
i 263; iii. 55, 157, 225-6;
She/field, john.
Buchley, 171%, i. 6; iii. 76, 224;
iv. 236.
Bzzdgell, Eustace, i. 310, 315 etc.
See Notes passive. For
Essays by him see Headings.
Bz/dgell, Gilbert, Verses by, viii.
125.
‘ Bz/llfinch,’ Character of, iii. 7 5.
310
THE SPECTATOR
Bullock, Gabriel, v. 287.
—-—-—, William, i. 134, 166; ii. 214;
v. 287; vii. 106, 207, 245.
Bumper T anern, iv. 52.
Bunyan, john, vii. 185.
Burdoch, Samuel, at the St.
fames’s, i. 92.
Burggcndy, Charles, Duke of, vii.
5.
Burlesque, Two kinds of, 299.
Burnet, Bishop, vii. 318.
Burnet’s Theory of the Earth,
i. 140; ii. 224, 231.
Burton Ale, v. 243.
Bury. See St. Edmunds-bury.
Bushy, Dr., v. 32.
Buss)! d’ Amhoz's, vi. 261.
Butler. See Hudibras.
Buttonma/eers, The, iii. 28.
Button’s Cqfi’ee-house, viii. 6.
‘Butts,’ 0n, i. 177; iii. 26-7.
Byrom, john. For contributions
see Notes to Nos. 586, 587,
593. 597. 603-
C
‘ Cacoethes scrihendi,’ viii. 93.
Caesar. See Augustus; fulius.
———- Commentaries, Edition of,
v. 188.
Cairo, Grand, i. 4, 34, 66, 171,
221, 309; ii. 75, 278; viii.
I
4.
Calamities, On, iv. 241 ; viii. 12,
15.
Calamy, Dr., ii. 91.
Caligula, i. 63 ; iii. 288.
Calumny, On, v. 265; viii. 131.
Camhm'dge, Um'oersizj/ of, i. 200,
295; iii. 197, 301; vi. 6;
viii. 27. See Clare Hall,
King’s, St. fohn’s, Trinity.
Camden, i. 221.
Camilla. See Mrs. T ofts.
Campbell, Duncan, v. 285; vii.
7-8, 116, 314, 317; viii. 18,
210.
Cant, viii. 202.
Caraccz', Haunihal, ii. 12.
Canton, ii. 144-
Card-matches, i. 328; iii. 306.
Careless Husband, The, v. 200.
Carey, [1111, vii. 305 ; viii. 281.
Carneades, ii. 224.
Cartesians, The, iii. 292; vi. 77,
91.
‘ Carthaginian Faith,’ iii. 20, 22.
Cartoons at Hampton Court, iii.
214.
Cassandra, Romance of, i. 136;
ii. 43.
Cassani, Signor, i. 22.
Cassini, vii. 293.
Cassius, ii. 271.
Casuist, the Love, viii. 165, 195,
196, 210, 220, 225.
Cat-calls, v. 160.
Catiline, i. 146, 205-; iii. 82;
iv. 120; v. 251; vi. 45.
Cato, ii. 73, 318; iii. 234, 256,
277; iv- 15, I75, 244;V-112,
178; vi. 177; 235; viii.
9.
Cato (Addison’s), viii. 131, 237-8.
Catullus, i. 86, 233; iii. 225 ;
vii. 216. -
Cavaliers, Female, ii. 329; vi. 141.
Cauilling, Art of, iii. 265.
Cecil, Lord, v. 32.
Champagne, viii. 47.
Chancery Lane, v. 43.
’Change-Alley, ii. 265 ; vi. 119.
Chaplains, ii. 90, 111; viii. 180.
Chardin, Sir john, iv. 147,
162.
Clearing-Cross, i. 105, 156; ii.
20; vi. 31; vii. 176.
Charity, 0n, iii. 236 etc.
Charity Schools, iv. 163 etc.
Charles!“ i. 218.
Charles 1]., i. 20, 35, 36, 126,
160, 166, 275, 295; ii. 275;
v. 56; vi. 241. '
Chatterhoxes, viii. 19.
Chaucer, i. 278.
Dryden.
Cheapsz'de, i. 302; vi. 29, 32.
Cheating, vii. 269.
Cheerfulness, 0n, v. 233, 254.
Chelsea, ii. 258 ; vii. 90; viii. 271.
Chery-Chase, Ballad of, i. 264,
27
See under
GENERAL INDEX
311

Childermas-Day, i. 28, 171.
Children in the Wood, Tune of
the, iii. 42.
Children, .S'uchling of, iii. 286 etc.
Child’s Coj‘ce-house, i. 5; vii.
176, 322; viii. 6, 180.
China, Account of, iii. 79 ; vii. 68.
China, Emperor of, Letter from,
vii. 264.
Chinese Tale, viii. 99.
Chit- Chat Club, viii. 19.
Chocolate-houses, i. 338.
Christ, Contemplation of, v. 137
etc.
Christian Hero, i. I 37.
Christian’s Overthrow Prevented,
The, ii. 43.
Christian Religion, viii. 252, 256.
Church, Behaviour in, i. 185,
198; ii. 173, 190, 277; iv.
73, 118, 126; v. 93, 231; vi.
. 235 ; vii. 107; viii. 142, 243.
Church Illusic, viii. 241.
Churches. See under each name.
in London, New, v. 241.
Churchill, john, Duhe of tl/farl—
borough, ii. 208 ; iv. 1; v.
80, 291; vii. 217.
Cibher, Colley, v. 200; vii. 269.
W,,,._C,'icero, i. 8, 22, 221, 228, 230,
256. 259. 276; ii- 83. 142.
I46) 195'6) 197a 2022 207:
231. 232. 246. 259. 263. 272.
285; iii. 56, 166, 200, 210,
233. 277; iv- 21. 138. 154-5.
159, 175, 218, 242, 261; v.
192. 194. 139. 178. 251. 253.
262; vi. 34, 35, 36, 116, 147,
181, 198, 200, 259; vii. 11,
63. 115. 129. 235. 248. 249.
252, 253, 264, 298, 302; viii.
29. 25. 193. 292. 253. 256-
Cincinnatus, viii. 40.,
Clare Hall, Camhriage, i. 295.
Clarendon, Lord, i. 274 ; vi. 157 ;
vii. 44.,
Clar>, M'argaret, v. 13, 286-9.
Classics (in usum Delphini), v.
37-
Claudian, iv. 107, 130; v. 46.
Clavius, Christopher, iv. 219.
Clay, Stephen, ii. 186, 334.
Clayton, Thomas, iv. 29, 30, 31,
104. _
Cleanliness, 0n, viii. 246.
Cleland,_/ohn, i. 311, 312.
Clerical Attire, viii. 179.
Cleopatra, i. 136.
Clergyman, The, introduced, i. 11.
Cleveland, john, iv. 136 ; viii. 205.
Clzfi', Nathaniel, iii. 85.
Climate, Influence of British, iii.
41.
Clinch of Barnet, i. 90, 114.
Clodius, i. 190.
Clodpate, justice, i. 180.
Clubs, i- 34, 89. See under
name of each club.
Cluh, Proposal for a new, vii.
282 etc.
‘ Coch and Bottle ’
Britain, iii. 60.
Cocoa- Tree Cm'fee'house, i. 5.
Cceur-de-Lion, i. 118.
Cofie—houses (generally). i. 3'09,
310, 338 ; viii. 6 ; characters
at, i. 181; discussion in, viii.
44; scene in, ii. 248. See
under name of each house,
in Little
' Coifi‘ure, iv. 98.
Cohe, i. 8; iv. 238, 278; vii.
Cole, Mrs, v. 286.
Coleshill-Heath in Warwichshire,
iii. 17.
College-Fellow, Saying of a, viii.
97-
Collier, feremy, Essay on Music,
v. 162.
Cally-Molly‘Pzgf, iii. 307 ; v. 163.
Colmar, v. 28.
Comedy, English, i. 188, 245 ; v.
202; vi.'176, etc. See under
each play.
Comet of the Year 1680, ii. 74.
Commode (headgear), 65, 172,
174; iv- 54.
Company, On, v. 202.
Cor/{tassiom On, vi. 9.
Compleat Jockey, The, ii. 42.
Compleat Ogler, The, i. 173.
Comte de Gabalis, Le, v. 298.
Conde', Prince of, ii. 21.
Conecte, Thomas, ii. 65.
312
THE SPECTATOR
Confucius, i. 257, 308.
Congreve, iii. 77, 135, 162; v.
152; vi. 99, 168; vii. 208.
Conquest of Mexico, The, i. 150.
Constantine, viii. 257.
Content, On, viii. 66.
Conversation, On, vii. 111 ; viii. 8.
Coquettes, i. 299; iv. 90, 112,
271; v. 131; vii. 152; viii.
167. See Male Coquets. ‘
Cordeliers, The, iii. 283.
Cornaro, Luigi, iii. 101.
Cornez'lle, i. 144, 163; vi. 31, 51.
Cornelii, The, iii. 89.
Cornelius Nepos, v. 249.
Cornhill, vii. 270.
Coronation Day (George 1.), viii.
I79, 187-
Correggio, ii. 12.
Correspondents, Replies to, viii.
91, 210.
Cottilus, ii. 309.
CottonLibrary, The, vi. 10, 271.
Country Dances. See under
Dances.
Country Gentleman, Memoirs of
a, viii. 218.
Country Life, On, vii. 3 etc.
Countryman, Fable of the, i. 95.
Courant, 1Wr., ii. 274.
Courtship, Arts of, vi. 20.
Covent Garden, i. 34, 54, 55,
I34, 255; 1Y- 27, 52, 57; V-
152, 205; V]. 31, 54, 210-3;
viii. 51.
Coventry, Anne, Countess of, iv.
297.
Coverley. See De Coverley.
.. Cowley, Abraham, i. 129, 153,
' 233’ 235: 254a 264; ii- .4,
118, 119, 151, 209, 307; iii.
239; v. 221, 228; vi. 40,
260 ; vii. 288; viii. 24, 122,
184: 192: 193a 249'
Cowell’s Interpreter, viii. 198.
Cowper, Lord, vi. 297.
Crambo, Game of, i. 240.
Crawley, Sir Ambrose, iv. 297.
Credit, Public, Vision of, i. 12.
Cries of London, The, iii. 305
etc.
Cri/fijilegate, vi. 277.
Criticism, The Art of, iv. 7-10.
Critics, French, i. 163, 334; iv.
202, 255, 296; v. 145.
—-—~, Modern, i. 147; vii. 278.
, 0n, viii. 127.
Cully-lllully-Pufii See
[Holly-Pufii

Col/y-
) Culpepper’s Midwifery, i. 137.
Curiatii, T he, i. 163, 164.
Custom, Influence of, vi. 180 etc.
Cymon and Iphigenia, Fable of,
i. 269.
Cyrus the Great, viii. 31.
also Grand Cyrus.
Czar of Muscovy, i. 260.
See
D
Daciers, The, iii. 202, 204, 226;
v. 24; vi. 51 ; viii. 127.
Daily Courant, The, i. 46; iii.
59; iv. 209; v. 187.
Daintry, Captain, viii. 50.
Dalton’s Country Justice, 42.
Dampier, ii. 142.
Dances and Dancing, i. 7, 137,
252, 253, 255, 342; ii- 238;
iv. 224-5; v. 51, 201, 220;
vi. 254; viii. 204.
Dapperwit, Abraham, vii. 224.
Dapperwit, Tom, vii. 136, 210.
Darcey, james, ii. 274.
D’Argentre, Histoire de
tagne, ii. 66.
Darius, i. 114.
Da Vinci, Leonardo, vii. 300.
Dawhs, Ichabod, vi. 222.
Dawson, ‘ Bully,’ i. 7.
Day, ‘ Mother,’ viii. 203.
Death, 0n, i. 96; ii. 184, 253,
278; iv. 144; v. 111; vii.
142, 171, 215, 235.
Decency and Decorum, 0n, iv.
155 etc. ; v. 83. '
De Coverley, Sir Roger, . intro-
duced, i. 7; death of, xii.
160. See Nos. 6, 34, 100,
106, 107, 109, 110, 112, 113,
116, 122, 125, 126, 130, 131,
I74, 269. 271, 297, 329, 331,
335, 359. 383, 41-0, 517, 544-
Bre-
GENERAL INDEX
313
De Coverley, Sir Hurrithrey, ii.
101.
De Coverley (Dance), i. 7, 311.
Defamatoigl Lz'hels, vi. 197.
De la Chamhre, Monsieur, i. 226.
Delphin Edition of the Classics,
v' 37'. Delphos, 1. 113, 114, 133; V111.
1
Democritus, vii. 131.
Demosthenes, i. 8; iv. 261 ; v.
130; viii. 193.
Demurrers, ii. 31.
Denain, vii. 13.
.Denham, Sir john, ii. 7 ; iv. 7.
Dennis, john, i. 175, 331 ; vii.
322; viii. 126, 268.
Deptford, ii. 195.
Dervish, Story of a, viii. 79 ;
another, viii. 247.
Des Barreaux, vii. I46.
Desdemona, 262.
D’Estrades, .M'arshal, ii. 43.
Detraction, Letter on, v. 108.
Devereux Court, in the Strand,
iii. 73; vii. 197.
De Vertot, Abbe, v. 113.
De Villars, .M'arshal, vii. 183.
Devonshire, I/Villiam Cavendish,
1st Duke of, ii. 69, 329. "
Devotee, A, v. 131 etc.
Devotion, 0n, iii. 122 etc., 145
' etc.
De Wit, iv. 121.
Diagoras, vii. 38.
Dieupart, Charles, iv. 29, 31,
104.
D.'llon, 11171, in Long-Acre, iii.
304.
Dillon, Went'worth, Earl of 180s-
common, i. 145, I56, 165; v.
8
. 4 -
Dinner, Hourof, i. 184, 336.
Diodorus Siculus, ii. 162 ; iii.
289.
Diogenes, i. 200, 201 ; iii. 99,
131; v. 134; V111. 94.
Dionysius Halicarnassensis, iii.
204.
Discretion, iii. 210 etc.
Divine Poet/11'. Scc fiymns, and
Solomon’s Song.
Dodona, Grove at, viii. 117.
Dogget, Thomas, iii. 249; v. 200,
208‘; vi. 179; vii. 106.
D’ Olivarez, Count, iv. 159.
Domestic Happiness, i. 59.
Dominic, i. 159.
. Domitian, iii. 208.
Donne, Dr., i. 154.
Don Quixote. See Quixote.
Dorzlgny, Nicholas, iii. 215.
Dorset, Lord. Sec Sachville,
Charles.
Douai, vii. 13.
Dramatic Improvements, On, viii.
126. See Comedy, Plays,
S tage- Thunder.
‘ Drawcansir,’ i. 62.
Dreams, vii. 51 etc., 11.1r etc., 184
etc; viii. 105, 129, 139.
Dress, Female, vi. 140. See
Commode, Fashion in Dress,
Female Cavaliers, Fontange,
Gloves, Hoods, Patches, Petti-
coats, Riding-hahits, etc.
‘Drugger,’ Ahel, i. 104.
Druids, The, i. 111.
Drunkenness, On, viii. 47.
Drurjl-Lane Theatre, i. 5, 83,
132; v. 161, 199, 222.
Dryden, john, i. 123, 136, 148,
150, 204, 218, 233, 235, 236,
269. 270. 291. 305; ii. 19.
35. 41. 44. 128. I69. 198.
204: 215: 246: 293; 32:
140, 161, 162, 199, 219, 225;
iv. 55, 62, 107, 133, 153,
I74. 178; v- 8. 9. 15. 81.
99, 180; vi. 20, 84 ; vii.
140, 207, 251; viii. 59, 117,
I59, 217-
Du Bartas, i. 218.
Duelling and Duels, i. 7, 287 ; ii.
13-16, 60-64; iii. 273.
Duke, Robert, iv. 298.
Dulness, i. 160.
Dumh illan, The.
Duncan.
Dunkirk, iii. 107.
Dunlap, Alexander, vii. 317.
Duns Scotus, i. 67.
D’Urfey, Tom, i. 137,
See Camphell,
314
THE SPECTATOR
Dutch Art, ii. 11.
Dutchman, Story of a, viii. 68.
Dyefs News-Letter, i. 159, 333;
ii. 164; vi. 222.
E
‘ Easy,’ fames, i. 336 ; iv. 66.
Echard’s Roman History, vii. 202.
Edgar, [(z'ng, viii. 169.
Education, Oh, i. 195, 249; iii.
174 etc.; iv. 217 etc., 243
etc., 250-1; v. 63, 128; vi.
214.
Edwardji, i. 118.
Edward [[L, v. 33.
Edward the Confissor, v. 33.
Eg‘z'nhart, iii. 50.
Egotism, viii. 2 5.
Elfrida, viii. I69.
Elizaheth, Queen, i. 280; iii.
195; iv. 161; v. 32; vi. 10.
Eloquence, viii. 193.
Elzevirs, i. 137; v. 188.
Emhroidery. See JVeedleworh.
Emilia, Character of, iv. 193 etc.
Emma, Queen, iii. 110.
Emperor of the Moon, The, i. 82.
Employments, On, viii. 95.
Enhorne, Custom of, viii.
220.
Encores, iv. 249. See Ancora.
Enemies, Use of, v. 1 3 5.
English Language, ii. 191-194.
Englishman, The, viii. 6.
English Singer in Venice, vi. 167.
Ennius, quoted, viii. I56.
Envill, Sir john, iv. 183; vii.
254.
Envious jllan, The, i. 71-73.
Envy, On, i. 71 ; iv. 6
Epaminondas, ii. 185.
Ephesian Matron, i. 42.
Ephraim, the Qua/oer, ii. 181.
Epic. Nos. 273, 297, 303. See
Homer, Le Bossu, Paradise
Lost, Virgil.
Epictetus, i. 196, 258'; iii. 189;
v. 135; vi. 9; vii. 185.
Epicureans, iii. 69.
‘ Epicure hiammon,’ Sir, v. 93.
Epicurus, viii. 111. '
198,
Epigrams, Cree/e, vii. 285 etc.
Epistolary Verse, viii. 207.
Epitaphs, i. '97; ii. 303; iii. 35;
vii. 163 etc. ; 242.
Erasmus, i. 222; iii. 170, 263-4;
v. 112.
Erisicthon, viii. 1 17.
Essay on the 'Art of Poetry, The,
1v. 10.
Essay on Criticism, The, iv. 7-10.
Essay on Translated Verse, The,
1v. IO.
Essex, Earl of, i. 180.
Essex Street, vii. 74.
Estcourt, Dich, i. 317; iv. 52,
292; v. 152, 200; vi. 263.
Eternity, On, viii. 69-72, 119.
Etheredge, Sir George, i. 7, 189;
ii. 166.
Eton, ii. 96, 313.
Euclid, i. 235, 292; iv. 133.
Eucrale, i. 290 ; ii. 13-15, 60-62;
vii. 27.
Eugene, Prince, iv. 69, 72;~v.
77; vii. 150, 174, 183, 217.
Euripides, vii. 287.
Eusden, Laurence, ii. 26, 325 ;
V11. 305; viii. 209.
Everlasting Club, i. 273, 274.
Examiner, The, v. 187; viii. 6.
Exchange (Royal), i. 5, 260; ii.
20, 265 ; v. 206, 232 ; vi.
103, 170, 212; vii. 128, 198,
226.
Exchange (New), ii. 59, 265; iii.
162; iv. 208.
Exercise, ii. 123, 127, 128.
Extravagance in Women,v. 27 etc.
Eye, The, iii. 301; iv. 3 etc.
Eyles, Francis, iii. 314.
F
Fahle, The, iii. 55; vii. 139.
“Face, [cl/ll all,” iii. 221.
Fadlallah, Story of, viii. 79.
Faith, Means of strengthening,
vi. 250. ‘
Falstafi: Sir/ohn, i. 65, 177.
Fame, On, i. 275; iv. 6, 14, 17,
22, 23.
Family Trees, viii. 190.
GENERAL INDEX
315
Fan, l/he Art of the, ii. 76-79;
ii. 188-90; iii. 104.
Fancy, viii. I 3, I 5.
Farquhar’s Trip to the Jubilee,
v. 200, 223.
Fashion in Dress, ii. 99-100,
165-168, 171-4; iii. 27-8;
iv. 97 etc., 272-3: vi. 126 ;'
vii. 18. See Dress.
Faults, Acknowledgement of. v. 237.
Faustina, viii. 174.
Favours, On, vii. 85.
Fawners, iv. 208.
Fear, On, viii. 199.
Felibien, viii. I 33.
Fell, Bishop, viii. 68.
Felton, vii. 45.
Fe’nelon, ii. 56 ; v. 66.
Festeau, Monsieur, v. 189.
Fielding, Robert (‘ Handsome’), i.
I37- .
Fifteen Comforts of Matrimony,
The, i. 137. See also
Plagues.
Fine Gentleman, A, i. 284.
Finishing Stroke, The, ii. 43.
Fire, the Great, i. 274.
Fireworhs, viii, 206.
Fish Street, vi. 31.
Flaccus, Valerius, i. 265.
Flamstead, 293.
-—-—- his house, viii. 272.
Flanders, ii. 258; iii. 44.
Flanders Mares, i. 20.
Flattery, iii. 258.
Fleet Street, i. .61 ; v. 42, 56;
vii. 195.
Fleetwood, I/Villiam, Bishop of St.
Asap/z, 91 ; v. 243.
Fletcher’s Humorous Lieutenant,
iv. 58. See Beaumont and
Fletcher.
Flitch of Bacon, Particulars of
the, viii. 174, 177.
Flor-us, iv. I45.
Flourilles, Chevalier dc, ii. 254,
337-
‘ Fomes Peccati,’ viii. 108.
Fontana, ii. 307.
Fontange, ii. 65; v. 8.
Commode.
See
"bn/cne/lc, vii. 167, 323; viii. 75- ‘
IV. '2.
‘Fbpling Flutter,’ Sir, i. 246,
247. 284-
‘ Foppington, Lord,’ i. 180.
F op’s Fortune, The, by Cibber,
v. 200.
Fortune, On, iv. 159 etc.
Fortune Hunters, On, iv.
etc., 274 etc. ; v. 17.
Fortune-Hunters, The, i. 82.
Fortune, Moderate, to be preferred,
vi. 247.
France. See Fashions, French,
Louis XIV., etc.
Francham, Mn, vii. 174, 316.
Francis 1., vii. 300.
Freart, Roland, vi. 71.
Free-Bench, viii. 198, 220.
Freeman, Mn, iii. 167, 178 etc.
Freeport, Sir Andrew, introduced,
i. 9. See Nos. 34, 82, 126,
I31, I74, 232, 269, 3171 5179
549- ,
Free-thinhing, ii. 339; iii. 246;
viii. 261.
Freher, iii. 50.
French Art, ii. 11 ; vii. 307.
Cruelty, v. 114.
--——- Fashions, i. 166 ; viii. 39.
Frenchmen, viii. 6. -
French Phrases, 303.
lldusz'c, i. 108.
Protestants in England, i. 57,
68, 108, 167; ii. 69, 119;
iv. 213; vi. 142; viii. 146.
~---- Wines, i. 158, 333; vi. 159.
~—-—- Women, i. 169, 334; iv.
100.
Fribblers, iv. 142.
Fm'endshz'p, On, i. 256; v. 248.
Fringe-Glove Club, T he, i. 110.
See Gloves.
Frogs, Fable of the, i. 88.
Froth, Abraham, i. 159.
Fulham, vi. 204.
Fuller’s English VVorthies, iii.
236



197.
Fuller, Francis, Medicine. Gym-
nastica, 122.
Future Events, Desire to hnow,
viii. 163.
Future State, On a, viii. 2 58
etc.
R
316
THE SPECTATOR
G
Gallandis Arabian Nights, i. 337;
vii. 228.
Gal/us, iv. 7.
Game Act, i. 8; viii. 219.
Game of “ The Parson has lost his
Cloak,” iv. 68.
Games, ii. 287 etc; vii. 111. See
under each Game.
Gardening and Gardens, i. 23,
314-5; vi. 67; vii. 14. See
London and PVise, and
Planting.
Gardiner, Bishop, v. 39.
Garraway’s Coflee-house, ii. 204;
vi. 32, 223.
Garth, Sir Samuel, iii. 299; iv.
84; vii. 12.
Gatty, .-'tlrs., vi. 150, 293; vii.
155.
Gazette of Amsterdam, iv. 209.
Gellius, Aulus, iii. 121.
Genealogies, iii. I30; viii. I89.
Generosity, On, iii. 248 etc.
Genius, Definition of, ii. 283-;
vii. 298.
‘George 1., viii. 211 etc.
Georges, The Club of the, i. 35.
Gerard Street, vii. 132.
German Art, ii. ~11.
German Artist, The, i. 115, 327.
Germans and Germany, i. 174,
225; ii. 194, 196;iii. 192.
Ghost Stories, i. 47.
Gigglers in Church, ii. 277.
Giles’s Cofiiee-house, vi. 30.
Gladiators, Collusion of, vi. 191.
Glasgow, vii. 189.
Glass, tialanufacture of, vii. I31.
Gloves, Silver - fringed, i. 321 ;
iv. 113, 237.
God, Idea of, vii. 210 etc.
Godhead, Ubiquity of the, viii. 52.
‘ Golden Lion’ in Drury Lane,
vii. 8.
Golding, 11111, iii. 323.
Gombaud, Ogier do, i. 226, 227.
Good-Nature, viii. 1 5 3.
Good-Natured tlfen, ii. 318.
Goodwin, Thomas, vii. 76, 313.
German, vi. 147.
‘ Gothic,’ ii. 231 ; vi. 52.
Government of the T onguc, ii.
43-
Gowns and Sleeves, viii. 210.
Graham, _f., i. 256.
Granajah, Kings of, i. 185.
Grand Cairo. See Cairo.
Grand Cyrus, The, i. 137. See
also Cyrus.
Grant, Dr., oculist, vi; 173, 280;
vii. 273.
Gratian, Balthazar, iv. 159; v.
228 ; vi. 48.
Gratitude, vi. 205.
Gray’s Inn Lane, vii. 195.
Gray’s Inn Wal/es, iv. 69.
Greatness, On, viii. 182, 192.
Grecian Czfie- house, i. 5, 182;
11. 5. _
Greaves, john, i. 309.
Greek Oratory, viii. 255.
Greek Proverbs, ii. 154 ; iii. 78.
See tilottos.
Grimaldi, Nicolino, i. 20, 49, 50,
51, 52; iii. 140, 249; iv. 249,
250; v. 9; vi. 36.
Grimalhin, iii. 163.
Grinning-,Match, iii. 17, 42.
Grogram, vii. 209.
Grotius, iv. 167; v. 49.
Grottos, i. 136; viii. 250, 274.
, Verses on, viii. 250.
Grove, Hemy. See notes to
Nos. 588, 601, 626, 635.
Grub Street, ii. 245 ; iii. 61.
Guelphs and Ghibellines, ii. 160.
Guide R'eni, ii. 12.
Guildhall, vi. 242.
Gumley, Mn, vii. 131.
Gustavus Adolphus, i. 22 5.
‘ Gusto grande,’ viii. 128.
Gwyn, Nell, v. 81.
Gypsies, i. 8; ii. 174-77.
Gyges, Story of, viii. 183.

H.
Haberdasher’s ffall, i. 199.
Haberdasher in C heapside, The,
i. 181; vi. 202.
‘Half-fldoon Tavern’ in Drury
Lane, vii.
GENERAL INDEX
317
Halifax, Charles Lord, ii.
vii. 221.
1;
Hephaestion, i. I 34.
fferhert, George, 1. 218.
Herod and hiarz'amne, 1i1. I 1 - 13.
[Jerodot-ns, ii. 69 ; iii. 79 ; vii. 37, '
136; viii. 57, 248, 252.
Hesiod, i. 49, 252; iii.
v. 46; vi. 38, 182.
bronchus, vii. 293.
Heywood, fames, i. 336; iv. 293.
ffz'e'rocles, iii. 277.
[Ii/l, Aaron, i. 314.
, l/Villiam, iii. 60, 313.
H'ilyah, Story of, viii. 99, 102.
Hinton, Moll, i. 292.
H'zlopolytus, i. 148.
flirst, fames, i. 343.
Historians, Of, ii. 197.
Historian, The, iv. 224.
1%hhes, Thomas, i. 174, 175., I94,
195; vii. 70 ;. viii. 112.
‘ Hohson’s Choz'ce,’ vii. 132.
Hochley in the Hole, i. 114, 326;
vi. 143; viii. 244. ‘
Homer, 1. 15, 212, 216, 220, 252,
264, 265, 282; iii. 56, 61,
148, 229. 233; iv 9. 61-64.
' 82'3'41 105'6'7'8: 129, 132'31
160, 175-6, 198, 201, 204,
256, 278-9, 281, 283, 286;
v- 23-4. 26. 37, 38. 45, 46.
47’ 48’ 49’ 50> 71-3, 117’
119, 120, 123, 124, 148, 171,
197-8, 268; vi. 38, 57, 78-80,
243, 278; vii. 59, 151, 183,
247, 278, 286, 289, 290 ; viii.
56ZS 74. 98, I72. I73. 248.
2 .
121;

9‘.
[Tali/ax, tidarquis of; Advice to
a Daughter, iii. 3.
Halley, Dr., vii. 293.
Hamadryads, Story of, viii. 117.
Hamlet, i. 134, 162, 164, 292,
iii. 248.
Hammersmith, vi. 204; viii. 56.
Hammond, Dr., viii. 68.
Hampstead Heath, vii. 89.
Hampton. Court, iii. 214.
Handel, i. 22.
Handicraft Prizes for British
Artizans, iii. 17.
Handsome Cluh, The, i. 66.
Happiness, On, iii. 102, 296;
viii. 148. I
Hardwiche. See Yorhe.
Ham'ngton’s Oceana, iii. 31.
‘Harp’ in Barhicon, The, vi. 173.
[Tarpon Rohert, Letter by, vii. 30.
Harris, Renatus, vii. 292.-
H'arty, Prince. See Henry V.
Hart, Nicholas, iii. 59 etc. ; vii.
254
Hatred, Example of, viii. 188.
Haunted A hhey, 102.
Haym, 1Vicolino, iv. 29, 31, 104.
Haymarhet Theatre, i. 5, 49, 53,
55’ 56’ 57: I13: 156; ii- 3-
Htad, A Good, ii. 38, 9; iv. 48,
54-
Head-dresses, ii. 64-67, 231; iv.
54. See Commode, Pontange.
Hearts, The Vision of, viii. 108.
Hehdomadal Cluh, Account of,
i. 158.
Hector, i. 212.
Hecuha, i. 217.
Heidegger, jl, i. 316.
Heliodorus, v. 195.
Hellier. See Brooh and Hellier.
Henley, Anthony, vii. 76, 313.
fienley, john (Orator Henley),
vi. 287 ; 166, 316.
Hen-peched, The, iii. 29, 163 ;
vii. 48.
Henry 1 V. of France, vii. 45.
t’Yemy V., i. 65; v. 33.
Henry VITA, vi. 9.
ffi’nsherg, Siege of, vii. 92 etc.
Honeycomb, Will, introduced, i. 10.
599 N95. 4. II. 34. 41, 77.
105, 131, 151, 251, 265, 290,
301: 311, 343’ 352’ 359, 410.
499, 511, 530; and Dedica-
tion to vol. viii.
Hoods, Ladies’, iv. 76, 77 ; vi.
131, 140. '
Hope, Religious, vi. 272.
Hope, Vain, vii. 226 etc.
Hophins and Sternhold, iii. 140.
Horace, i. 126, 145, 156, 163, 165,
233, 258, 280; ii. 19, 107,
284, 292; iii. 8, 55, 161, 191,
192, 199, 250, 300; iv. 7, 8,
318
THE SPECTATOR
Imma, daughter of Charles the
Great, iii. 50.
Impertinents, ii. 315.
Ince, Richard, vii. 308.
Indian Emperor, The, i. 305.
“ Indian journal,” The, i. 187..
Indian A’ings, The, i. 184, 208,
336.
Infirmary for Ill - H‘umoured
People, vi. 105, 121, 158;
V11. 7.
Ingratitude of Husband, Letter
on, v. 3.
Inhle, Ildr. Thomas, IIistmy of,
i. 43, 171.
InnerSTemple, The, i. 8; vi. 122,
1 6
Innocence and Simplicity (Timothy
Doodle), iii. 282 etc.
Insolence and Ill-breeding, vii. 220.
Instinct, ii. 141-2.
Ion translated, viii. 287.
Irish Gentleman, i. 173; iv. 237;
viii. 24.
Isidorus, viii. 116.
Islington, i. 46 ; iv. 264 ; vi. 203.
Isocrates, i. 230.
Italian Operatic IlIusic, i. 22 etc. ;
iii. 140, 165.
Italian Proverb, iii. 86.
Italy, Remarks on, by Addison,
v. 294.
Itch of Writing, viii. 93.
I
43, 61, 111, 128, 198, 241,
252; v. 37, 64, 65, 295; vi.
37. 66. 85; 111- 75. 129. 151.
226, 276, 278, 279, 282; viii.
12, 98, 127, 201, 208, 209.
HOWIZZLY, i. 252.
Hot Cochles, iii. 283; iv. 37.
Howard, Sir Edward, i. 334.
Howard, Sir Robert, v. 290.
How-d’ye Servants, ii. 223.
; H'uarte,juan, iv. 218, 298.
' Hudibras, i. 67, 148, 222, 227,
283; ii. 193, 228; iii. 107,
264, 292, 299; iv. 239; v.
40; viii. 20.
Hughes, john, i. 249, 341; ii.
84-6. 326. 329. 336; 111- 317.
318, 321 ; iv. 289, 297; vii.
237, 298, 323. See by
Headings.
Human Body, vii. 257 etc.
Human Nature, vi. 45 ; vii. 233.
Hum-'Drum Club, The, i. 36.
Humour, On, i. 128.
Hungary Water, i. 137.
‘ Hunt the Squirrel,’ i. 253.
Hunting, ii. 122-28.
Husband, Choleric, viii. 30. '
Husbands, Henpeched, vii. 33 etc.
See Henyeched.
Huygens, Christian, viii. 35.
Hydaspes, i. 49, 50, 51, 82; iv.
249- .. .
Hyde Park, 11. 29, 41; iv. 11, 96;
vr. 142.
Hylas, i. 222.
Hymns,vi. 163, 206-8, 238, 253-4;
vii. 60, 61, 145. Also No.405.
Hwbocrisy, vi. 16.
Ibrahim, i. 190.
Ichneumon, Of the, ii. 162.
Identity, Personal, viii. 79.
Idleness, iv. 259-62.
Idols, i. 277, 278, 301 ; ii. 23-26 ;
vii. 225.
Ignorance, A flotation of, vi. 280..
Imagination, Pleasures of the,
vi. 52, 56-96, 277.
james I., i. 228 ; v. 40.
james Street, iv. 57; vi. 210.
jealousy, iii. 3 etc., 8 etc., 37 etc.,
95 etc.; vii. 197.
jews, The, iii. 62; vii. 79 etc.,
214; viii. 7.
jilts, iii. 69 ; vi. 23.
Job, Book of, 35-37; v. 60-1;
V11. I71; vm. 54.
joe’s Cofee-house, vii. 291.
john a Nohes, viii. 78.
john a Stiles, viii. 78.
john of Gaunt, i. 84.
johnson, Benjamin, actor, ii. 214;
V. 200.
GENERAL INDEX
319
fonathan’s Cofiée - house, i. 5 ;
vii. 176 ; viii. 7. ‘
[ones of Newington, vi. 280.
[onson, Ben, i. 38, 104, 124, 264,
' 274; v. 200, 285; vii. 134,
1997 245- ' n _
fosephus quoted, ii. 105-6; in. II.
fotharn’s Fable, iii. 55. ‘ ~ ,
journal of Clarinda, v. ‘7. '
Journals (Rahes, Sats, etc.), v. 6.
journal of a Sober Citizen, iv. 264.
fulian’s “ Caesars,” viii. 2 57.
/.]ulz'us Caesar, i. 80, 86, 171, 221;
7'3. 271.. 318; 206, 235;
iv. 21, 94, 158, 213; v. 212,
=49; vi- 3. 34. 156; m-
173, 182. 257-
Julius Caesar. Prologue to, quoted,
iv. 189; viii. 276.
fuvenal, i. 120, 126, 136; ii. 65.,
246; Io, 61. 94, 157;
v. 37, 271 ; vi. 142.
K
Keen, Edward, v. 104.
Kernpenfizlt, i. 311; vii. 263.
A’ennet, Dr., ii. 290. ‘
Ifent, Elizabeth Grey, Countess of;
her Receipts, 43. '
Kidney, Mr., i. 92.
King Street, vi. 211.
A’ings, the Club gf the, i. '3 5.
King Lear, i. 14 ; viii. 126.
IYing’s College, Cambridge, i. 296.
Kissing-crust, 8.
Kit-Cat Club, T he, i. 36, 274,
317. .
Kneller, Sir Godfrey, i. 123, 317 ;
vii. 308. '
Knotting, vii. 231, 319.
- Knightsbridge, vi. 203. -
Knight’s Head, The, ii. 148. _
Knowledge, Communication of,
v. 227.
Koran. See A lcoran.
L
La Banana. 293, 344; vi. 51.
Lacedemonians, iii. 74, 148.
Lacy, john, vi. 287.
IV.
2R2
Ladies’ Calling, The, i. 137.
Ladies’ Library, The, i. 135, 171 ;
ii. 42-45; vii. 202. ' ‘
LadiesJ Riding Habits, 83-6.
See Dress.
Ladies, 8T he Spectator for the,
1. I . ‘
La Forte, i. 137.
La Fontaine, iii. 55 ; vi. 51. .
Lancashire Witches, The, ii. 214.
Land- Tax, The, 118; iii. 119.
Landed and Along/d Interests, ii.
' 163 ; iii. 20.
Lanterloo, iii. 284
Lapland, v. 183, 295; vi. 40,
288 ;, viii. 163.
La Rochey’oucauld, viii. 39.
Latin, Love of, 196.
Latin Verses, (original) vi. 61 ; viii.
6
23 .
‘Latinus,’ King, i. 84, 171, 199,
200.
Laud, Archbishop, viii. 83.
Laughter, i. 174, 194; iii. 297.
Lawrence, actor, i. 1 15.
Lawyer’s Club, v. 207.
Lazy Club, i. 316; iv. 278.
Leadenhall Street, iv. 143.
Lear. See King Lear. ‘
Leather, Gilt, viii. 181.
Le Bossu, i. 342, 343; 56;
iv. 292-3-4 ;> v. 24, 26, 116,
196, 292; vi. 51.
Le Conte’s “ Present State of
China,” iii. 79. ,
Lee, Nat, i. 145, 150; 44, 56;
iv. 130; vi. 152;'viii. 18.
Leges Convivales, i. 38.
Le Gobien, Charles, 321.
Lent, Rules to Keep, ii. 43.
Leo X.,~vii. 87; viii. 205.
Leonora, i. 135, 137, 138; ii. 42,
295. See Shgpheard, Miss.
Leslie’s Finishing troke, ii. 42.
L’Estrange, Sir Roger, i. 88;
ii. 193.
Leti, Gregorio, viii. 248.
Letter-droppers, i. 220.
Letters of Correspondents, On the,
i. 310. See Correspondents.
Levity g” Thought in Young
Women of Quality, iv. 10 etc.
329
THE SPECTATOR
Libels, vi. 197.
Liberality,>v. 101.
Liberty, iv. 137 etc.
Library. See Ladies’ Library. ~
ngron, Richard, i. 43, 318._
Lillie, Charles, perfumer, etc.,
i. 64, 171; 204, 210;
iv. 30, 236; v. 150.
,Littleton, i. 8; v. 65. See Coho,
Lilly’s Grammar, 230; iv. 52,
V 207. .
Lincoln’s-,Inn-Fields, i. 24. ,
Lincoln’s-Inn Chapel, viii. 181.
Lion, Fable of the, i. 42.
Lipogrammatists, i. 220, 239.
Lilosius, i. 38. .
Livy, 20; vi. 50, 88.
Lloyd’s Cmfee-house, i. 17.
Locke, john, i. 137, 231, 232, 237;
1 50, 103, 143, 144 ;_ iii. 276;
iv. 152, 244 ; v. 67, 208, 257,
212; vi.‘65; vii. 169, 170
261, 221 ; viii. 150. -
Logic Lane, Oxford, iii. 263. _,
Lombard Street, v. 90. _
London and Wise, gardeners, i. 23,
314, 315; v11. 15. {D
i Bm'a’ge, v. 241 ; v11.
107. . . s .
London, Tour through, vii. 209 etc.
See also under each street,
building, etc; _
Long Acre, vi. 210-11.
Longiflw. i- 8’ 2151 23013123.
11. 80.; 204, 226 etc. ;
iv. 8, 106, 123, 154, 282,
286; v- 46. 7Q. 71; vi- 5;;
vii. 59; viii. 127,254,256, 274.
Long-Lane, iv. 51, 208. ,
Looking-glass, Transformation qf
Fidelio into a, v. 272.
Looking-glasses, v. 14.
Lorrain, Paul, v. 70.
Lottem'es,_iii. 84 etc. , 274. ‘
Lothbmy, iv. 206.
Louis XII/i, i. 84; ii. 205;
iii. 44 etc., 117 etc., ' 264-;
v. 187; vi. 30 etc.
Lonngers, The, i. 200-3.
Louvre, The, ii. 311; iv. 209;
. r v. 188.
.4'L0ve for Love, iii. 77.
Love, On, i. 109 etc., 269 ;' vii. 8
etc. ; viii. 124, 157 etc., 165.
‘ Loveit, Mrs.,’ i. 246.
“ Love me, Love my Dog,” viii. 85.
Lovers, Absence of, iii. 269 etc.,
285.
Lover’s Leap, The, iii. 202, 217,
240.
Lovers, Mortality of, v. 221.
Lovers, Proflzgate, vi. 28.
Lowndes, William, vi. 222.
Lucan, iv. 107, 129, 176..
Lucian, i. 252; iii. 299; iv. 119.;
v. 2698' ‘ -;
Lucretius, i. 233; ii. 104.
Luagrate, ii. 6. 4
Lulli, Battista, i. 108.
Luxury, On, i. 203.
Lyon’s Inn, v. 154. . _
Lyszynshi, Casimir, v. 263..
M
Macbeth, i. 168, 169; ii. 215.
Mac-Flecknoe, i. 218.
Machiavelli, iv. 211 ; vi. 47.
Macrobius, v. 54. . ‘ ' .
‘ Mad Londoner,’ Letter from the,
viii. 75. ' ' ‘
" Madame in her Grogram Gown, ”
iv. 10. _ .' " '.
Magna Charta, i. 13. . . '
Mahomet, iii. 83; viii. 108. __
Mahometan Custom, i. 195. . L
Maintenon, Madame do, ‘i, 65 ;
w. 209. ~ -
‘Mahe-Bait,’ ii. 197 ; 127. '
Malebranche, i. 137; ii. 50.
Male Coquets, iv. 142, 187, 274.‘ L
Mall, The, viii. 6. '
Manhind, Varieties of, viii. 223. Manley, Mrs., i. 330. - "
Mann’s (jenny) Cmfee - house.
See Tilt-yard Cqfie-house.
Manners of Courts, vi. 155. -
Manners, Society j‘b'r the Rg‘ormai
tion of, i. 31, 316; viii. 210.
Man’s Place in the Cosmos, viii.
34- - .
Manuscript, Greeh, iii. 220, 240.
Mar-all, Sir Martin, i. 21.
Marius, ii. 271 ; iv. 213; v. 249'.
(SHEIQHBIZlKI. IPJI)!Z)C
Marlborough, Duhe Churchill, fohn.
Marly, iv. 211 ;. vi._2o3. .
Marraton, The Visionary, i. 207,
See
321 _
7. 81, 8;. my. 128. 243.2715. 3 1
279; Vli. 1'27, 151, 245 '; viu.
34, 76, 243, 248. See 2150
Paradise Lost, Criticism of.
Mind, Powers 0/, viii. 258 etc.
.M'z'nclelheim, Prince of; iv. 2.
filinshul, Mr., ii. '274.
Alirabell, T am, .‘i. 1 1. -
Mirth and Concord, v. 150 etc. ;
viii. 143. .
Mirzah, Vision of, ii. 278-82.
Mach Heroics, I vii. 182. ,
1%desty, iii. 232 etc. ; v. 208.;
vi. 225; 4o. ‘
Mogul, The Great, i. 105, 260. ». ._
Mohochs, v. 6, 8, 11, 41, 56, 69,
105, 157; viii. 158, 276. .. .
Molz'ére, i. 263; ii. 19; v. 82,
291 ; vi. 51..
Moloch, i. 277.
‘_Mol Pately,’. i. 253. ,
Monmouth Cock, ii. 174. '-
Monrrzouth, Duke of, i. 11. .
Monmouth Street, iv. 208.
Montague House, 41.
Montaigne, 296; 25.
Montgomery, Mr., 317. ,
Moore, Mr., apathecary, 273. .
Moorfiela's, iii. 92; vii. 116.
Morat,.i. 306.
More, Dr. Henry, ii. 23, 144.
More, Sir Thomas, v. 112.
Morecrafl, Thomas, 330.
Moreton, john, 323'; vii. 270.
Mortality, Bills of, iv. 145 etc.
Mourning Bride, The, i. 148.
Mosaic Work, v. 293.
filoses, fewish. Tradition concern-
ing, 257. .
Motteux, Peter, iv. 14314.; vii.
11;

208, 210, 211.
Marriage, On, iii. 48, 2 1 etc.;
iv. ‘37 etc., 66, 1 6, 222,
235; vii. 23 etc., 61 etc.,
96, 118, 136,177 etc., 243 ;'
viii. 173.
Marrow-bone and Cleaner, viii.
205. ,
Martial. i- 78. 95. 192. 233. 235.
236, 2 9, 264;, ii. 21, 116,
236; VI. 178; 64.
Martyn, Henry, iii. 312, 316, 321;
vii. 305. - See Philarithrnus.
Mary, Queen, iii. 264.
Masquerades, The, i. 31, 316.
Mather, Charles, toy - dealer, v.
28; vii. 109; viii. 51.
Matthews, john, ii. 110.
May, Month qf, Eficts of, V. 1179;
v1. 3.
Mazar'in, Cardinal, i. 86. - '
Mede, 'Mr., upon the ‘1‘ Revela-
. ‘0 .tions,” ii. 43. ' ' ‘
Medley, The, v. 187.
Melancholy, Religious, vii. 76.
Ménagv, Gilles, i... 227.
Menagiana, i. 227,340; v. 179.
Menander, iii. 131 ; viii. 288.
Mercerus, i. 231.
Mercure Galant, i. 226.
Merion, i. 257. ,
.M'erry Club, The, i. 66.
file er, Monsieur, vii.~31.
Meta; ors, Mixture 1}}, viii. 134.
Methuen, (Sir) Paul, vii. 1.
Methnen Treaty, i. 333. ‘
Illichael Angelo, ii. 307 ; vii. ‘ 300.
[Wile-End-Green, iv. 251 ; v. 18.
Mlitary and Civil List, iii. 92.
Military Life, 38. .
Mlitary Metaphors, viii. 41.
Military Men, ii. 253.
Milhmaia’, A Cognettish, v. 232.
Mil/ar, james, vi. 143.
Mite". i- 49. 124. 233. 264. 2-74;
,..- ii- 33. 34. 209. 285; iii- 18.
_ 0 255,300; iv. 43, 158 ;- v. 8,
15’ I6: 155', 181: 276; 4:
291.
Mottos, Of, iii. 194 etc. . "
, Creek (in text), iv. 56, 76,
170.
Mourning, Public, i. 242; viii.
170. I <
Mouse Alley,
vi 173.
Mclberry- Garden, The, ii. ‘58.
[Hum Club, The, i. 36.
near ‘ W apping,
Mesaeus, i. 233.
322
THE SPECTATOR
Muscooy, i. 260.
Illusic, 0n, iv. 29; viii. 241.
--——-—, English, i. 71. ,
----—, Italian, i. 68 ; iv. 29 ;
vi. 36. '
N
Naked Shoulders, vi. 150.
Namur, iii. 18.
Nathan’s Fable, iii. 55.
Nature, Gifls cf, vi. 32'etc.
Needle-Money, iv. 168 _
Needlework, On, viii. 169, 170,
181, 249.
Nemesis, vii. 36 etc. -
Nephews, Undutgfulness of, vi. 29.
Nero, iii. 288; vi. 31. _
Newberry, Mr. , i. 221.
Newcastle, Monument to the Duke
and Duchess of, ii. 68.
New Exchange. See Exchange,
New. > -
Newgate, vii. 114.
NewgateStreet, v. 43.
New-Inn, i. 9. ~
Newport Street, vi- 211.
New College, Oxford, vii. 305.
New River, The, i. 21 ; viii. 140.
Newton, Sir Isaac, i. 137 ; ii. 74;
vii. 299, 323; viii. 37,260.4/9111'0’. i- 15. 222. 233. 235. 236.
Nicharagua, Prince, i. 210.
Nicolini. Sec Grimaldi. '
.Nzg'ht and Day, Vicissitudes (9',
vi. 107.
Nimrod, iii. 62. ‘
[Vine-Elms, vi. 910.
IViocles, ii. 185.
Norfolk-Buildings, v. 33.
Norfolk Street, v. 56.
Norris, Henry, actor, i.-. 166; vii.
106.
Novelty, On, viii. 229, 258.
Numbers, Power of, viii. 248.
O
Oates, Titus, i. 214; ii. 202.
Obsequiousness, v. 251.
October Ale, viii. 47.
October Club, The, i. 36, 274 ;
viii. 275. -
Oedipus, Tragedy of, i. 148, 150.

Ogilby, john, i. 136..
Ogling, i. 173 etc.
Oldfield, Mrs., v.. 68, 80~1 ; vii.
_ 269.
Old/2am, fohn, i. 67.
Old Men, Character of, v.“ 59.
Ombre, Game of, ii. 87,. 211;
vi. 138.
‘ Omnamante,’ ii. 227 ; iii. 14.
Opera, On, i. 20, 49, 52, 68, 70,
71, 81, 82, 105, 106, 108, 109,
113, 115, 125, 144, 292; ii.
229; iii. 230.
Orange Girl, Letter from an,
v. 232. '
Oratory, On, vi. 42, 44; viii. 251.
Orators, Female, iii. 290 etc. ;
1v. 5. .
Ormond Street, i. 35. Oroondates, iii. 114; v. 221.
Oroonoko, i. 148.
Orphan, The, i. 148.
Osborne’s Advice to a Son, ii. 248;
iv. 245; vii. 19.
Othello, i. 148, 214, 292.
' Otway, i. 146; ii. 129; iii.. 111,
270; v. 134-; vi._ 5, 218;
vii. 2 . . ' '
‘ Overdo,’ Mr. justice, i. 180.
277 ; ii. 40, 209, 270 ; iii. 63,
261: 27o: 293; iv- 7: 55a 107, 129, 158; v. 46, 119,
173; vi. 7880, 87; vi. 155;
vii. 182, 200, 201 ; viii. 159,
20 . -
Oxford, University of, i. 66, 111,
158, 218; iii. 263; iv. 68,.
102; vii. 296 ; viii. 20,. 137,
167, 210. See New College,
Queen’s, St. fohn’s.
, Elegy/'2 Street, iii. 263.
Oxford and CambridgeVJests', 27. ~ .
P
Pactolus, i. 171, 172.,
Padilla, Luisa de, v. 228.
Paddington, vi. 204.
Page, Susanna, vi. 145.
Painting, On, ii. 1013; iii. 213
etc.-; vii. 306. .
GENERAL INDEX
323
Pakington, Sir john, i. 311.
Pall-Mall, iv. 98.
Palmouist, Monsieur, i. '159.
Pankridgc. See St. Pancras.
Pantomimes, v. 54, 1 2.
Pajer-fltaking, v. 18 .
Paradin, ii. 65, 66. . ' .
Paradise Lost, Criticism of, iv.
43, 60, 82, 104, 128, 151,
I73. 198. 225. 252. 278;
v. 2'0. 44. 70. 94, 117. I41.
167, 191. s
1 Paradise of Fools, vi. 231.
Paragrammatist, i. 229.
Paranomasia, i. 229. »
Parents and Children, iii. 87; vi.
128; 218.
_ Paris Gazette, i. 292.
Park, The, i. 11, 89, 90.
Parker, Richard, Letter by, vii./
3'7-
Parkes, john. See Sfarkes, john.
Parnassus, Vision (ff; 146 etc.
Parnell, Thomas, vi. 296; vii. 99,
305. v
Parr, Mr. , v. 298.
Parsons Green, vi. 204.
Parthenia, ii. 212.
vShepheard. ,
Party-Spirit, i. 212; ii. 158-162;
vii. 121 etc.; viii. 42. .
Pascal, ii. 127; vii. 234.
Pasguin, Statue of, i. 87,. 323.
Patches, ii. 3-6; vi. 140. ,
Patience, An A llegoey, 99 etc.
Also viii. 17.
Pausanias, viii. I44. _
Pearce, Zachary, viii. 251, 274.
Pedigree, Pride of, viii. 189.
Penelope’s Web, viii. 172, 173.
Penkethman. See Pinkethman.
Penruddock, iv. 247.
Perfection, On, viii. 256.
Pericles, iv. 218; viii. 245.
Periwig, viii. 245.
Perrault, Charles, iv. 108, 204.
Persecution, On, vii. I56.
Persian Tales, viii. 79.
Galland, Turkish Tales.
Persius, i. 48; iii. 73, 145; v.
228, 271. '
Perspective-Glasses, iii. 304.
See Mss
See
T/i
Peter, john, iii. 318.
Peter the Great, ii. 20 5 -7.
Petronius, i. 43; iv. 8; v. 112.
Petticoats,6 ii. 165, 231 ; iv. 54,
1
9 1 4'
Petty, Sir William, iii. 121,
238.
Phaedra.8 and Hippolytus, i. 71,
14 .
Phalaris, A Letter of, v. 111. 9
‘Phantom, The,’ at Church, vii.
107.
Pharamond of France, i. 288, 289,
220; I3: 43: 6O: 67;
v11. 27.
Phidias, ii. 307; iii. 177.
Philarithmus, 47, 117. See
Plenty Martyn.
Philip 19‘ Macedon, iii. 265.
Philips, Ambrose, 203, 225;
iv. 148; v. 52, 57, 67; vi.
21; vii. 183, 250, 304; viii.
79, 198.
Philomot, 1v. 54.
Phocion, ii. 185; iii. '75; vi. 185.
Phoebe, A Poem, 160.
Phraseology, Absurd, 203,
204. '
Physiognomy, On, vii. 165.
Piazza. See Covent Garden.
Picguet, vi. I 38.
‘Picts,’ i. 151, 152, 153, 154, 160,
161, 171, 178, 199; viii. 275.
Pied-Piper, The, i. 23.
Pilgrim, The, i. 83.
Pindar, 284-5; vi. 37; vii.
I
15 .
Pindarics, 284; v. 183.
Pindaric Manner in Gardening,
vii. 16.
Pinkethman, Mr. , i. 114, 115,
133, 134; v. 200, 201; vi.
217; 106, 245.
Pin-Money, iv. 166-70, 225.
Piper, Count, 195.
Pippin Woman, Story 19‘ the, iii.
293-
Pisistratus, vii. 200.
Plagues ( Various Titles 19‘ Books),
ii. 245, 336.
Planting, On, viii. 96, 116. See
Gardens, London and PVise.
324
THE SPECTATOR
Plato, i. 129, '201, 208,230; ii.
23. 34. 232. 285; iii- 56.
I45, I62. 174. 244, .256;
iv. 169, 219; v.=38, 262,
271; vi. 37; vii. 1521,3151;
viii. 8, 223, 258. ~ -. » ~
Plautus, 157.
Plays, Depravity of, iii. 149 etc.
See Comedy, Stage.
Pleasing, 0n the Desire of, iv.
109 etc. ‘
Pleasiires of a. Country Life, The,
- ~ 11. 43.
Pliny, iii. 228 ;- iv. 156, 261 ; vi.
259; vi; 41, 43, 192, I9
302; vm. 1,29.
Ploce, i. 229. -
Plot, Dr. Robert, History of
Stafi'ordshire, vi. 180; viii.
174. - 1 -
Plutarch, ii. 158, 167, 185, 295 .;
47, 75, 201, 223, 227 ; iv.
132, 244; v. 64; vi. 17, 40,
206,, 225.; vi. 37. 54, 78.
129; Vm- 9133- '
Poetical justice, i. 147; 275
1 etc. ‘ ~ - ‘
Poland, i. 318.
Pole, Cardinal, v. 39.
Politeness, viii. 246. ' > ,
Political Science, iii. 44, 117, 235.
Polybius, iv. 138. ' ~ - J
Pompey, ii. 73; iv. 242; v. 249,;
vii. 124. - _ -
Pontignan, Monsieur, ii. 367.
Poor,~~ Proposal to' assist the, vi.
.- 275-
' Pope, Alexander, iv. 7; v. 224, ;
‘ vii. 182,201, 215, 224, 305,
317. See Notes passion.
Pofish Plot, T he, i. 293.
Portia, viii. 173. '
Port-Royal, viii. 25.
Portugal, King of, i. 244.
P9m51 King, i' 1141 133'
Possiclonius, iv. 242.‘
Postboy, The, iii. 17,85; v.
. 1877 243' v I '
P0st-Man,' The, i. 5,172, 193,
310; v. 187.
Powell, George, actor, i. 114,149,
150; iv. 1-51-;*v. 104.» 1
Powell, Martin, puppet-showman,
1' 547 551 56) i “7' 100; ‘7'
205
Praise, Love of, vi. 258.
Praxiteles, ii. .177. _ P Prayers by Clergymen, iv. 242.
Precedence among Authors and
‘ Actors, vii. 205 etc.
Prejudice and Emulation, vi. 131.
Preston, Elizabeth, vi. 144.
Pride, On, viii. 216.. -
Prince, Mn, vi. 255. -» >
Printing, 0n, v. 1878 '
Procession (9" the Pope, iv. 42, 71.
Procrustes, i. 218.
Prodicus, iii.‘ 56. _ ~
Professions overcrowded, i. 78._
Progress, The Royal, - A Poem,
vm. 211. Prolo s- and Epilogues, v. '67,
Promises, Brew/icy", vi; 184. ' ‘
Pronunciation and Action, vii.-
. 248.
Propertius, iv. 7.
Propriety in Dress, v. 156.
Proserpine,.Rape of, i. 109. ‘
Prospect of Peace, The, A Poem
vm. 211. '
Proverb, English, v. 202.
Greek, iv. 56. '
Proverbs, quoted, ii.-156; iii. 35;
'vi- 54. 248.
Prudes, ii. 338; iii. 150, 182.
Psalms, Book of, i. 218; vi. 238,
253, 275-
Pnflkndorf, 1v. 167. .
Pultowa, Battle of, 195.
Pulvilio, i. 238, 341 ;| vii. 166.
Punch, i. 128. See Puppet-Shows.
Panning and Puns, i. 66, 228,
230, 231,240; vi.»6.
Puppet-Shows, i. 132, 319, 320;
v. 182, 222. See-Powell.
Purcell, i. 106, 107. ‘ ‘
Purle, 28, 326; iv. 265.
Putney, vi. 204. -
Pyramid, 'Measure of a, i. 4', 309.
Pyrrhus, i. 252 ; iii. 47.
Pythagoras, iii. 69, 197; v. 54,
88; vi. 181; vii. 284; viii.
105. -

GENERAL _ INDEX
4325
' Q

Republic, Male, vi.‘ 135. - '
Rhaecus, Story of, viii. 118.
Rhynsault, Claudius, vii. 65.
Rich, Christopher, i. 23, 134, 314;
iv. 290.
Richard 111., i. 119.
Richelieu, iv. 159, 209.
Riches, How to acquire, iv. 199
etc. -
Richmond, 314; vi. 209.
Riding-Habits, vii. '48.
Rzlg'adoon, Monsieur, i. 253.
Rinaldo, Opera of, i. 21, 23, 56.
‘ Rival Mother,’ T ale of the,
11. 41.
Robin’s Cojee-house, vi. 213.
Roche oucauld. See La Roche-
oucauld. .
Rochester, Lord. Sec Wilmot,
ohn.
Roderick, Dr. Charles, 313.
Rodengros, Foolish, I39.
Romances, i. 136, 137; ii. 43,
171 ; iii. 27o. '
Rope Dancers, iv. 28.
Rosamond’s Pond, iv. 237.
Roscommon, Lord. See Dillon,
Wentzoerth. . .
Rose C'qfi‘ee-house, i. 9.
Rosicrucz'us, v- 229.
Rossi, i. 34. ,
Rover, The, i. 190.
Rowley, john, 292.
Royal Exchange. See Exchange.
Ruoens, ii. 12.
Ruelle, flomme dc, i. 334; vii.
210.
Russell-Court, i. 9; vi. 171.
Russell, Elizabeth, _v. 289.
Rycaut, Sir Paul, v. 87.
Rymer’s Edgar, viii. 126. .
Ryswich, .Peace cy', 44.
S
Qnachs, 0n, vi. 171 ; viii. 56.
Quakers, 181 ; viii. 146, 245.
Queen’s College, Oxford, vii. 305.
Questions and Commands, iii. 283;
vii. 111, 314.
Quevedo, v. 39.
Quillet, i. 86, 323.
Quintilian, .i. 230 ; ii- 238, 313;
iv. 8, 246; ‘viii. 127, 193.
Quintus Curtius, i. 1 14; viii. 13o.
, Qxiixote, Don, i. 111, 180; ii.
295; iii. 299 ; iv. 143; vi.
179; vii. 190.
R
Raoelais, iv. 122, 143.
-,.4?acz'ne, i. -_144; v. 82, 1; vi.
3!, SI-
Raillery, On, vi. 96.] '
Rainbow (Sofie-house, i. 61. '
Rakes,- 0n, viii. 158.
Raleigh, Sir Walter, vii. 133.
Ram, Ceremony of ,Black, viii.
198, 221.
Ramz'llies, Battle of, iv. 214 ;
I93- _-.
Cock, 11. 172. _
Ramsey, I'Villiam, viii. 95.
Rants, On, i. 149, 150. _
Raphael, ii. 12, 307; iii. 214,,
215, 279; vi. 43, 261; vii.
oo - '
3 ._ . I ,
Raphael’s Cartoons, iii. 1214.
Rapin,_René, i'. 334; iv. 296.
Rattling Clubs, viii. 243. I
Rcwaillac, vii. 45. . ' .
Rawlinson, Thomas, vii. 321.
Read, Sir William, vi. 276; vii.-
Rebuses, 1. 220, 221, 239.
Rechtern, Count, vii. 31. .
Recitati'oo, Italian, i. 106, 107,
144-. ~
Red-heels, i. 61.
Red Lion Square, viii. 41. _
Rehearsal, The, i. 14, 333; V- 32?
vi. 8 .
Religion, Revealed, viii. 257.
Republic, Female, vi. 1 3 5, I 37.
J ,. . . _, "1
Sacheverell, Dr. , i. 137, 338. >
Sackoille, Charles, Earl of Dorset,
11. 19.
St. Angelo, viii. 205.
St. Anne’s Lane, 157.
St. Augustine, viii. 130. -
St. Bartholomew’s Hospital,
326'
THE SPECTATOR
St. Bride’s Charity School, v.
233.
St. Bride’s Church, iv. 165.
St. Christopher’s (Leeward
Islands), iii. 175.
St. Clement’s Church, vii. 91.
St. Dunstan’s Church, v. 107. '
St. Edmundsbury, 261.
Saint-Evremond, i. 122, 196; ii.
295; iv. 168; v. 112.
St. Francis, iii. 283.
St. Gregory, vi. 200. ,/
St. fames’s Church, v. 222.
St. fames’s Church (Garlich-firill),
n. 235. _
St. james’s Coin-house, i. 5, 92;
w. 213; v1. 30..
St. james’s Palace, iv. 123; vi.
210.
St. fames’s, Parish of, i. 169 ;
29; vii. 275.
St. fames’s Parh, iv. 11.
St. fohn’s College, -Cambridge,
' 6
v1. .
St john’s College, Oxford, i. 66 ;
icture of Charles L at, i. 218.
St. ohn’s Street, iv. 51.
St. Martin’s-in-the-Fields, iv. 207.
St. Martin’s Lane, vi. 211.
St. Pancras (Panhridge), vi. 203.
-——- Churchyard, vii. 242. ' -
St. Paul, iii. 68, 214 ; vi. 43 ; viii.
224, 254, 255-
St. Paul’s, i. 185; vi. 31; vii.~
2, 292; viii. 182. . -
St. Paul’s (Covent Garden), i. 54.
Salamanders, iii. 110. .
Salisbury, Bishop of, i. 173.
Sallust, ii. 318; iv. 15; vi. 50. c
Salmasius, vi. 271.
Salmon, Mrs. i. 104, 114; viii.
181.
Salmoneus, i. 134 ; viii. 126.
‘ Sampson, Sir,’ in Love for Love,
iii. 77.
Sanctorius, i. 93.
Sappho, iii. 201 etc., 225 etc.,
242 etc. ; vrii. 51.
Saracens, i. 118.
‘ Saracen’s -Head, ’ ii. 149.
Sarasin, Monsieur, i. 227.
Saunderson, Bishop, ii. 91.
fies/J
Savoy, The, i. 84, 199.
Scalzger, fulius Caesar, iv. 176;
v. 24.
Scalzger, fosephusfustus, vi. 271;
viii. 26.
Scanderbeg, iv. 69. '
Scaramouch, iv. 122.
Scarborough, ii. 261.
Scarron, i. 65, 67, 321.
Scawen, Sir William, iii. 323.
Scenes, Going behind the, iii. 268.
,_-Schqfer"s History of Lapland, v.
183; vi.
viii. I58.
Schoolmasters’ Tyranny, ii. 313.
Schoolmen’s Ass, iii. 83, 121.
Scioppius, vi. 271.
Scipio, vi. 178.
Scotland and Scots, i. 77 ; vi.
215; viii. 163. See Second
Sight. 1 "
Scott, Dr.,,vi. 183.
Scottish Saying, vi. 245.
Scowrers, i. 328; 329; iv. 95;
viii. 270.
Scudéry, “Romances,” iii.
272.
Sea, Paper on the, vi.~ 58 etc.
Searle’s Cofiée-house, i. 182.
Second Sight, viii. 1-63.
Sedley, Sir Charles, ii. 40; v. 293 ;
vi. 20.
Seduction, Reflections on, viii.
. 185. . ‘ .
Segrais, Monsieur, i. 236.
Self-Love, viii. 111. _
39-42 ; vil- 315;
270,
1,5mmd- 137,143';ii- 45. 273. 278,
295; 103, 256;..iy. 178,
261; v. 112,214, 263; vi.
40; vii. 11, 129; viii. 48, 55.-
Sensoria, viii. 37. -
Sentry, Cajn‘ain, introduced, i. 9.
See Nos. 34, 152, 350, 517,
544- ‘ ‘Io- '
Seriousness, On,- V111._ 143.
Sermons, Delivery of, vii. 244.
Servants, ii. 93-95, 199-200; vii.
72 etc. See How-d’ye.
‘ Seven Stars ’ in King Street,
Covent Garden, iv. 98.
Seymour, fane, vi. 10. ‘
Shadwell, Thomas, i. 129; ii. 214.
GENERAL INDEX
327
.S'ha/tesbury, Lord, vii. 221.
Shahespeare, i. 65, 83, 107, 145,
148, 157, 164, 228; ii. 124,
125, 215, 262, 284, 287;
iii. 143, 150, 160, 184, 231,
249, 283; iv. 105, 130; v-
159, 200; vi. 8, 10, 86, 264;
vii- 42. 44. I76. 245. 250.
251 ; viii. 128. See under
individual plays.
.S'hallum, Story of, viii. 99, 102.
Shefield, john, Duke of Buching-
hamshire, iv. 290.
‘ She-Machiavils,’ viii. 24.
She-Romps, Club of, iii. 181-2.
She Would If She Could, i. 189.
Shepheard, bliss, ii. 212, 326.
Sherloch, Dr., i. 137; iv. 146;
vi. 183; vii. 142-4.
Shipton, Mother, i. 67.
‘ Shoeing Horns,’ vii. 232.
Shovel, Sir Cloudesley, i. 97;
v. 32. -
Side-Boxes, ii. 3, 29 ; iii. 268;
iv. 239.
Sidney, Sir Philip, i. 264, 279.
Szlg'hers, Club of, i. 171.
Signboara’s, i. 102, 104, 325 etc.
Silent Woman, The, i. 151.
Silius Jtallcus, v. 295.
‘ Silk-worm, A,’ vi. 211.
Simonia‘es, iii. 154 etc., 161, 281 ;
vii. 210, 287.
Simson, Professor, vii. 317.
Singularity, On, viii. 72.
Sion College, 236.
Six Alations, [Q'ngs of the, i.
185.
Sixtus V., i. 87.
Steven, A, Character of, ii. 247.
Sly, john, haberdasher and
tobacconist, iii. 73 ; iv. 53;
vii. 196, 218, 226, 269.
Smallpox, iv. 213; viii. 194.
Smalriafgre, Dr. George, 237.
Smiglesians, iii. 263.
Smith, Edmund, i. 312, 322.
Smithfielcl, iii. 264; vi. 29.
Bargain, iv. 205.
Smyrna Cofiiee - house, iv.
vi. 223.
Sim/6.", Dr., iv. 165.

213’;
Snujr and Snufiing, i. 343; ii.
I 190, 2045; viii. 245.
‘Sfrates, i. 38, 86, 201, 252; ii.
22, 232; iii. 31, 56, 69, 101,
145 etc., 170, 262, 263, 290;
iv. 147, 169, 219, 261; v.
112, 263, 271; vi. 45, 51;
vii. 25, 26, 34, 48, 96, 151;
viii. 12, 68, 174.
Soho-Square, i. 7.
Solomon’s Song, Paraphrase of,
v. 258-261.
Somers, Lord john, i. 1.
Somerset Garden, i. 291.
Songs, v. 184; vi. 270, 283.
'- jfihocles, i. 164; iii. 231; iv.
130; v. 167; vii. 287.
Sorrow, On, iv. 240 etc.
Sothades, iii. 134. and note.
Soul, Immortality of the, 1069.
South, Dr., ii. 91 ; iv. 221; viii.
128.
Southerne’s Innocent
ii. 44; 31.
Southwell Tune, iv. 127.
So'wton, john, at the St. james’s,
1. 92.
Spain, Kingof, i. 244.
Spanish Cobbler, The, viii. 245.
Spanish Lady, Story cy‘, 188.
Spanish Proverb, 160.
Spanish Snufi See Snuff
Sparhes, john, vi. 293.
Sparta, 33.
Spectator, The, Editorial Re-
ferences to its Aim and
.M'anagement, etc. i. 25, 38,
I70. 313. 318; ii- 75. 155;
iii. 196 etc. ; iv. 40 etc. ; v.
186 etc.; vi. 176; vii. 55,
I90. 253. 273; VM 4. 90.
Adultery,
249.
“ Spectator” Club, Account of the,
i. 7, 310-312; vii. 256; viii. 5;
See under the name of each
member.
S pcctator’s ([I'fr.) Account of him.-
self, i. 3, 4, I5, 309; vii. 284.
Minor references passim.
Spencer, Charles, Earl of Sunder-
land, vi. 1.
328
THE SPECTATOR
Sloenser, i. 233; iii. 56; iv. 175;
v. 266; vii. 64.5, 245 etc.
Spinamont.
Richard.
Sfittley‘ields, iii. 274.
Sprat, Thomas, ii. 119.
Spring, Delights of, v. 274.
Spring Garden, v. 240.
Squire’s Cofee- house, i. 182 ;
iv. 72.
Stage, The English, i. 68 ; v.
199 etc. ; vi. 177 etc.
Stage-Coaches, Scenes in, ii. 181,
230; iii. 273 ; vii. 221 ; viii.
245.
Stage- Thunder, viii. 126.
Stamp ActofI712, vi. 173, 294.
Starers, The, i. 75, 76, 77, 198;
iii. 304. See Oglers.
Stationers’ Hall, vii. 295.
Statius, i. 265 ; iv. 101, 130.
' Steele, Richard, and his Worhs,
references to, i. 137; ii. 216,
336; v. 156, 293; vi. 266;
Vii. 118, 1562 304: 305: 308!
314. See Notes passim.
Stein/eirh, Battle of, ii. 174;
v. 57.
Stevens, the Elder, vi. 272.
Stochs-fldarhet, vi. 210, 242.
Stonesfield, near Woodstoch, v.
1 50.
Storm of 1703, iii. 193.
Story-telling, On, vii. 238.
Strada, iii. 271 ; viii. 205.
Strand, The, i. 46; vii. 91, 226.
Strand-bridge, vi. 210.
Stratford, 111%, v. 292.
Street-Clubs, i. 35.
Street Cries, viii. 140.
Suetonius, iv. 138, 244.
Sulla, iv. 159, 213.
Sunday in the Country, ii. 109.
Snnderland, Earl of. See Spencer,
Charles.
Sit-perstitions, Popular, i. 27.
‘Surgeon’s Arms, The,’ in Drury
Lane, vi. 171.
Susanna, History of, ii. 43.
Susanna, Opera of, i. 56.
Swan, .3er i. 229.
‘Swan,’ The, in Coleshi/l, iii. 17.
See T hornhill,
Sweaters, The, v. 41, 107.
Sweden, A’ingo)‘, viii. 211.
iSwift, fonathan, i. 313, 336, 341 ;
11' 73, I92, 334;
See Notes passion.
Sydenham, Doctor, i. 92 ; ii. 122.
Sylla, v. 249.
Symmetry-I, On, viii. 248.
Syrus, Publ., quoted, viii. 46.
v. 292.
T
T aciturnity of Air. Spectator,
i. 4 etpassim; viii. 5. '
- vTaeitus, ii. 74, 229 ; iii. 126, 259;
iv. 211 ; vi. 5o.
Tamerlane, i. 148.
Tansy, ii. 115.
Tartars, ii. 162.
T asso, i. 23.
Taste, Characteristics of, vi. 49.
Tate, Nahum, on the Spectator,
vii. 58.
Tatler, The, vii. 303. See Preface
and Notes passim.
Tax on Papers, vii. _ 305.
Taylor’s Holy Living, i. 137.
Tea- Table, The, i. 19, 313 ; ii.
42; iv. 94, 188; v. 272 ;
vi. 6; viii. 25o.
Tempest, The, viii. 126.
T emplar, The, introduced, i. 8;
T emple, The, i. 239 ; iv. 277;
v. 107; vi. 29, 52, 54.
Temple-Bar, v. 241 ; vii. 90, 226,
294; viii. 51.
T emple Cofee-houses, iii. 107.
T emple, Sir l/Villiam, i. 79, 137;
iii. 100, 141.
Terence, ii. 284; iii. 231, 284;
v. 53; vi. 178; vii. 103, 104,
105. I77. 298. 305; viii- 27.
128.
T ertul/ian, vii. 54.
T hanhsgim'ng, viii. 243.
‘That,’ Remonstrance of, i. 305.
Theatre, English, i. 155. _ See
Stage, Comedy. '
Themistocles, iv. 238. '
Theocritus, i. 217 ; iii. 217.
Theodosius, i. 148.
GENERAL INDEX
329
T heodosius and Col/s/an/z'a, ii. 297.
1/ 'heognis quoted, vi. 247.
Thersites, i. 67.
Thomas, Enos, ii. 274.
Thor, i. 79.
Thornhill, Richard, ii. 324.
T hucydides quoted, ii. 6.
Tiberius, vi. 45.
Tie/tell, Thomas, vii. I82, 215,
216, 305; viii. 211.
T illotson, Bishop, ii. 80, 91, 203,
329; iv. 161; vi. 183; vii.
244 ; viii. 9, 149, 223.
Tilt-yard ngflee-house, ii. 99, 100;
vi. 30; vii. 283.
Time, Use of, iv. 262 etc. ; v. 211.
Tiresias, viii. 18.
Titian, 12; iv. 156.
‘ Title-Page, Anthony,’ iv. 206.
Tofts, Mrs. (‘ Camilla’), i. 60, 69,
82, 213, 267, 322; vi. 293.
Toland, john, ii. 339; iii. 321.
Tom the Tyrant, i. 184.
Tom’s ij’ee-house, ii. 55.
T onson, facob, junior, ii. 43.
T ole-knots, i. 61.
Torcy, tidargaz's de, iv. 209, 213.
Torre, Custom of, viii. 199.
Tower, The, i. 49.
Tradesmen, On, vii. 291 etc.
Tragedy, English, i. 143, 147,
I54, 161 ; v. 56.
T ragi- Comedy, i. 147.
Trajan, viii. 257.
T ransmigration, Doctrine of, iii.
161 ; v. 87.
D'a'oellers, Alanners of, ii. 181 etc. ;
iii. 272-3.
T ranelling, Letter on, v. 17 5.
Trees, Preservation of, viii. 2, 1 17.
See Planting.
Trinity College,
135; vii. 305.
Cambridge, iv.
T roilus, i. 217. i. /
Trojan Horse, The, i. 217. L/
Trophonius, and his Cave, vii. I I6.
314; viii. 144, 145.
‘ Trunk Jfaker,’ The, iii. 247 etc. ,
268; iv. 29.
Yijyfihiodorus, i. 220-239.
Tubs thrown to a H’ha/e, iv. 42.
Tncca, iv. 7.
Tulip-reel, ii. 95.
Tully. See Cicero.
T unbridge, ii. 261 ; \ii. 84.
Turkish Tales, The, ii. 51; vii.
140. See Persian Tales.
T wo-penny Club, The, i. 37.
T ybnrn, ii. 251.
Tyrants, On, vii. 124 etc.
U
Ugly Club, The, i. 66, 116, 178,
192, 295, 297; ii. 23; vii.
298.
Ulysses, Play of, i. 148.
Ulysses, i. 220.
‘ Upholsterer,’ The. i. 184, 336;
viii. 211.
Uranius, ii. 309.
V
Vagellins, i. 80.
Vaillant, fl/fr., vi. 293.
Valens, Emperor, vi. 199.
Valentinz'an, Emperor, vi. 199.
Valetudinarians, The, i. 92, 94;
70, 221; vi. 5, 124.
Vandals, i. 79.
Vandyke, Poem to, i. 33.
Vanini, Lucilio, v. 263.
Vanity, On, viii. 25.
Varius, iv. 7.
Vauxhall, v. 241, 298.
Venetian Art, I I.
Venice Preserved, i. 146, 148, I61.
Versailles, 311 ; iv. 21 1 ; vi. 203.
Villaeeij’e, tidadame de, v. 189.
Villiers, George, Duke of Bucking-
ham, ii. 193; v. 297; vii. 45,
131. See Rehearsal.
Vinegar- Yard, i. 200.
Viner, Sir Robert, vi. 241.
Virgil, i. 22, 23, 60, 78, 96, 136,
223, 233, 235, 236, 264, 265,
267, 279, 281, 282, 283. 284;
ii. 35, 156. 204, 236, 272,
285; iii- 78. 2‘29. 233. 249.
303; iv- 7. 61. 62. 63, 64.
83, 84, 105, 106, 107, 108.
129. 13o. 133. 160. 175. 176.
178, 201, 203, 204, 229, 253,
\
330
THE SPECTATOR
256, 278, 279, 282, 283; v.
26, 46, 48. 71, 96, 117. 118,
119, 122, 144, 148, 171, 181,
I93, 196, I97, 198; vi. 34,
50. 66. 78, 79. 80, 81, 82,
87, 92, 181, 243, 254, 278;
vii- 54. 59, 129. I51, I60,
174, 183, 278, 282 ; viii. 56,
98. 117. 131. I89. 248, 249~
Vilginia Tobacco, ii. 189; iv.
264; v. 32.
Virtue, Beauty and Loneliness of;
iii. 276 etc.
Visiting-Days, i. 324 etc.; viii.
169, 192.
Vitellius, iii. 47.
Vitruvius, ii. 307.
Volscians, i. 200.
Voltager, Prince, i. 160.
Voluntaries (Church), viii. 242.
Vulcan, T emple cy’, Story of,
viii. 84.
W
Wa/ees, Country, ii. 286, 290.
PVal/eer, Thomas, vii. 55.
1 I/Vallis History of Infant Baptism,
11. 43.
Waller, Edmund, i. 33, 233 ;
ii. 241, 278 ; iii. 41, 206,
258, 300; iv. 276; viii. 2. _
Warner, john, goldsmith, vii. 294.
Warner, Richard, vii. 197. ’
Warwich Street, vi. 212.
Washing, 0n, viii. 247.
I/Vater-Worhs, The, ii. 315.
Watt, ‘Powder,’ iii. 307.
I/Vatts, Isaac, vi. 238, 296.
I’Vaxworhs. See fl/er. Sal/non.
I/Veaver, 174%, v. 52, 290; vi. 257.
Westminster Abhey, i. 96, 171;
ii. 68; v. 30, 38.
i/Vestnzinster Hall, i. 52; ii. 88;
vi. 41, 122.
Westminster School, ii. 57; iv.
247.
tharton, Thomas, Earl of, v. 1.
['th'chenovre, Custom of, viii.
.174- ..
lV/zzfli'ers, vn. 232.
thzlg/Serers, ii. 239.
I/Vhist (I/Vhish), i. 343; iii. 284.
Whiston, I/Villiam, vi. 8.
PVhitehall, iii. 24; iv. 123.
‘ I/Vhite Hart,’ The, in Long Acre,
iii. 304.
Whitepot, ii. 100.
PVhite’s Chocolate House, i. 309;
ii. 29; iv. 273.
White, JWoll, ii. 129-131,
180, 214; iv. 70.
White Witches, ii. 179.
Whittington, Stoiy of, i. 23, 56.
Who and Which, Petition of,
1- 297, 30.5-
Whole Duty of Man, The, i. 330 ;
viii. 46.
Widows, 0n, vii. 242 ; viii. 196.
VVidow’s Cluh, The, viii. 21, 60.
Widow’s Cofee — house in De-
oereux Court, vii. 89, 194.
Widow, The Peroerse, i. 7; ii.
112, 122, 131-4, 330.
Wilhs, actor, iv. 65 ;_ v. 200.
VVill’s Cofie-House, i. 5, 9, 161 ;
ii: 44, 55: I95; iv~ 81: 223;
VR 13: I4, 15: 31) 213: 223;
V11. 176, 195, 224.
William the Conqueror, vii. 37.
William [[11, i. 49, 218; vii.
156 etc.
Wilmot, john, Earl of Rochester,
i. 7; ii. 40; iv. 213; vi. 20.
Wimble, Will. See Nos. 108,
119, 122, 126, 131, 269, 329.
Winchester, viii. 169.
Window - oreahing, ii.
See Scowrers.
Windsor Tune, iv. 127.
Wines, Importation of French, i.
. 158, 33?». . ..
W'zngate’s Arithmetic, 11. 43.
I/Vinstanley, Henry, ii“. 339.
Winstanley, Mrs, ii. 339.
Winston, Thomas, vi. 287.
Wisdom and Riches, A Vision,
vi. 243.
Wise. See London and Wise.
Wit, ii. 209-10; iii. 191 etc.
———, Essays on, i. 215-242.
Witchcraft, ii. I281 31. See
.I'Vfoll White.
\kVit’s Commonwealth, iv. 207.
I79,
86, 9S~
GENERAL INDEX
331'
Wits, German, iii. 192.
Witty Club, The, i. 66.
Woden, i. 79.
Wolsey, Cardinal, viii. 25, 224.
Women cf the Town, iii. 80; iv.
57; v1. 52.
PVoolston, T homas, vi. 287.
Wycherley, iii. 259; iv. 60; v.
I 34.
X
Xantippe, iii. '31 ; viii. 174." \4
X enophanes, vi. 226. ‘13.,»2”
Xenophon, 317 ; iii. 56, 69 ;
M/,~'v:"65, 133; vii. 151, 236;
V111. 31.
Ximena, or the Heroic Daughter,
vii. 269.
IV.
i
‘ r
.V
Y
Yaratilda, i. 210, 211.
Yarico, i. 43, 45, I71.
Yawning, iii. 43.
Yorh-Buildings, iv. 30, 103-4;
v. 104.
Yorhe, Philip (afterwards Earl of
Hardwiche), v. 294.
Young Ladies, Behaviour of, vii.
69.
See lnhle.
Men, Complaints about,
Vli. 202.
Youth and Love, iv. 191—2.
Youth, Education (yr, v. 330.
Z
Zeal, On, iii. 62 etc.; vi. 230.
Zeuxes, i. 193.
Zoilus, 276; iv. 108 ; v. 38, 39.
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