THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES m ;,!3i !.!|? THE GLEANER: A SERIES OF PERIODICAL ESSAYS; SELECTED AND ARRANGED FROM SCARCE OR NEGLECTED VOLUMES, WITH AN INTRODUCTION, AND NOTES, BY NATHAN DRAKE, M. D. AUTHOR OF "literary HOURS," AND OF "ESSAYS ON PERIODICAL LITERATURE." apis Matinse More itiodoqne, Grata carpentis thjma per laborem Plurimnm. Hob, IN FOUR VOLUMES. VOL. L Slcmticm: PRINTED FOR SUTTABT, EVANCE, AVD CO. STATIONERS' COURT ; AND ROBERT BALDWIN, PATER-NOSTER ROW; ALSO FOR WILUAM BLACK\*OOD,, KDlXBURGHj AND MICHAEL KEENE, DUBLIN. 1811. C. Baldwin, Printer, New Drlge Street, Londor ^ '-' INTRODUCTION. During the composition of the " Essays on Pe- riodical Literature," it became my duty accu- rately to read through nearly every work in this department which had been published for a cen- tury : it will not appear extraordinary, therefore, that in turning over so many volumes, although now neglectedor forgotten, I should occasionally meet with papers of value, equal, or approaching to, those which constitute the pages of what may, not improperly, be termed our " Classical Essay- ists.'* These, indeed, proving more numerous than I had, at first, reason to expect, it occurred to me, that, by throwing them together, under the advantages of a proper arrangement, their merits, now lost and buried in the surrounding crude mass of materials, might be rendered con- spicuous, and the tribute of applause, due to their respective authors, be at length adequately apportioned. The Papers which, at present, form the " British Classical Essayists," consist of the Tat- ler. Spectator, and Guardian; the Rambler, Ad- venturer, and Idler; the World, Connoisseur, a 2 IV INTRODUCTION, and Mirror; the Lounger, Observer, andLooker- On. These, it may be said, display the literary harvest of this province of EngHsh composition ; wliile the volumes now presented to the public may, not unaptly, be considered as gleanings; wliich, though, when scattered widely over the ground, they attracted but little comparative at- tention, will now, it is hoped, when collected and put in order, form a sheaf not less rich in quality, or ])cautiful in appearance, than the more im- mediate product of the field. To the similitude, indeed, existing between the occupation of gleaning, and that of gathering together the far sei)aratcd leaves of this collection, is to be at- tributed the clioice of the name which dis- tiiiguislies its title-page.* Of the fbm' volumes composing the Gleaner, th(i first and second are constructed of papers wliicli were published from the year 1713 to the ciose of the Idler in 1 760 ; and the third and fourth, of tliose which have appeared between the last period and the year 1797, when the * Tiie title of Gleaner has not hitlK vto !,"jcii applied, I believe, to any jx'riodical p;;;)'-.;', on t'le AcUli^oniaji k;'kI'.1, })'ib!i.-,hecl in (irtat IJritain. lu ll'.e I'a.sterii and W.-stvrn world, 1k)w- i-ycT, t'.vo j;aj;ers, iinc'- r tfi's a;jp.e!lation, have already been J .\r.ted; o'le, ii' 1 rccoliect arii-lit, ut Ijombay ; aiul the other, (:' V, ;i!'-'i i po.jess a copy, ut IJoston, iu IVS'S, in tliree ve'.. i2ii.o. INTRODUCTION. V Looker-On had received from its author a last revision and a more enlarged form. Though from the year 1709 to the termina- tion of the year 1760, one hundred and twenty- two periodical papers have been published, inde- pendent of eight, which are now honoured with the appellation of classical, I have been under the necessity of limiting my attention, while forming the first two volumes, to only nineteen of the number. This is to be attributed, in some degree, to the political aspect of several of these works; politics, for reasons too obvious to be dwelt upon, being excluded from my design ; but more especially is it attributable to the imbecility which pervades so large a portion of these hasty, and, too frequently, inelegant productions. Even from the volumes to which I have had recourse for this part of the selection, and which extend to thirty-five, it will excite no surprise that I have been able to construct but two; when it is known that the sole object of tlie undertaking is, the juxtaposition of what either amounts to excellence, or, at least, rises above the limit of mediocrity. Of the papers which have been laid under contribution for the first and second volumes of the Gleaner, the following is a list : namely, the Englishman, 1713 ; the Lay Monastery, 1713 ; the Censor, vi INTRODUCTION. 1715; the Freethinker, 1718; the Hain Dealer, 1724 : the Universal Spectator, 1728 ; Memoirs of the Society of Grub-street, 1 730 ; Fog's Jour- nal, 1732; Common Sense, 1737; the Cham- pion, 1739; the Female Spectator, 1744; the Parrot, 1 746 ; the Student, ] 750 ; the Inspector, 1751; the Covent-Garden Journal, 1752; the Grays-Inn- Journal, 1752; the Old Maid, 1755; the Prater, 1 756, and the Visitor, 1760.* To the task of selection, it became necessary, for the interest of the work, to add that of aiTangement ; for, had the papers followed each other merely in the order of time, a want of pleasing and perspicuous distribution, with re- gaid to the nature of the subjects chosen, would have been inevitably felt. I have, therefore, intermingled the grave and the gay, the didactic and the narrative, in such a manner, as, I flatter myseltj will sufficiently ai'rest and relieve the attention of the reader, and, at the same time, harmonize with the best models of periodical composition. That the Gleaner might possess all the advan- tages which are now annexed to the best editions I'or ciuiractcrs of thfse papers, and, indeed, of every otliLi- wliich has been written for a eeiitury haek, I must re- fer my reader to the Kssays on Periuiiica) Literature, lately J r.ljjivtied in five aoIs. fbolscap 8v(>. INTRODUCTION. Vll of our Classical Essayists, I have given transla- tions of aU the mottoes, and added tables of contents and indices. For the sake of unifor- mity, also I have prefixed mottoes to those pa- pers which originally did not exhibit such an ornament; and I have, likewise, occasionally sub- stituted a new motto, where the old one ap- peared to me not sufficiently pleasing or appo* site. As the essays united in these volumes are, for the sake of exciting universal interest, of a nature as general as possible, the necessity for notes has, consequently, not been frequent ; these are, therefore, rather critical, than expla- natory; or so far illustrative, as parallel passages, or subsequent discoveries and narratives, might furnish materials. It may be observed, that the number or page of the original work, which has been selected, is carefully noted at the close of each paper of the collection. Not only has strict attention been paid to avoid any thing which might militate, in the smallest degree, against the great truths of re- ligion and morality ; but care has also been taken, that nothing should appear which could offend the most delicate mind, and that the whole should subserve the best interests of virtue. To conclude: it is mv wish, that the Gleaner Mil INTRODUCTION. should form a valuable accompaniment to the Classical Essayists ; to which, I trust, it will es- tablish a claim, by condensing into a convenient compass, and with a suitable arrangement, the best essays of the best periodical papers which, independent of the standard works already mentioned, have been published in this country to the year 1797.* Hadkighy Suffolk, Dec. 1810. * The Works from which the Essays, forming the Third and Fourth Volumes of the Gleaner, are taken, will be found enu- merated in an Advertisement prefixed to Volume the Third. CONTENTS TO VOL. I. No. PAGE. Introduction v. <^ I. Selkirk, Alexander, an account of his living alone four years in a desolate island . . 1 O II. Critics, an essay on them and on criticism 8 III. On superstition and its effects 1,5 IV. Florella, a fairy tale 22 C) V. Parallel between poetry and painting .... 30 O VI. The same concluded 38 nVII. Descriptions in poetry, the reason why they please 45 VIII. Alfarute, a tale 55 IX. On the civilities and ceremonies of po- liteness among the Romans 61 X. On the too partial administration of jus- tice. Letter from a criminal going to be executed. Dying speech of a crimi- nal 67 XL On the marvellous and irrelevant in the history of medical cases, instances of . . 81 XII. On the daily and ordinary course of pri- vate life among the Romans 91 XIII. The same continued , 97 XIV. The same concluded 103 XV. Theodosius and Eudocia, history of .... 110 XVI. On the shortness of life 116 XVII. On the moralization of stories in conver- sation, with specimens 12i XVIII. An imitation of the allegory of Cebes .. 132 XIX. A fairy tale for the female world 1 37 XX. On the tythe-bill : five arguments for pass- ing it 143 XXI. Psychostatics, or the imitation of the alle- gory of Cebes continued 161 XXII. The same concluded 166 XXIII. Reflections on the tombs in Westminster Abbey 1/3 XXIV. ^Marriage, happiness or misery of, a re- verie 1 ''t VOL. I. 1) X CONTENTS. KO. PAGE. XXV. Vision of a future state 194; XXVI. Poetry ; the Despairing Lover; Ballad on Nothing ; the Old Maid's Wish 202 XXVII. Letter from Aristotle, with a curious piece of criticism 209 XXVIJI. On the dispensations of Providence 221 XXIX. riorio, story of 230 XXX. On storms and shipwrecks ; story of a shipwreck 24'4' XXXI. On the pleasures of the fire-side 252 "^ XXXII. Critical trunk-maker of Addison, letter from 262 XXX [II. History of Alibez, a Persian tale 272 XXXIV. The same concluded 277 XXXV. On dress, and on the judgments to be formed from it 283 XXXVI. On the Leonidas of Glover 293 XXXVI 1. The stone city, a dream 306 XXXVIII. Ear tickling, an essay on 317 XXXIX. On the prevalence of an idle and savage curiosity for witnessing public execu- tions: story of the dreadful conse- quences arising from the indulgence of such a propensity 528 XL. On the influence of the eyes 34'6 XLI. On luxury, a dream 356 XLII. On Dyer's Ruins of Rome 36S XLIII. On submission to the will of Providence; the Hermit, a tale 375 XLIV. Kicking, a dissertation on 382 X LV. Pleasure and Pain, an allegory 394* XL VI. On superstition and the force of imagina- tion ; anecdote 401 XLVII. Romantic story of Jeffery Rudel, a Pro- vencal bard 41i THE GLEANER. No. I. Talia monstrabat relegens errata retrorsum. Virgil. Tracing the course which he before had run. Drtdev, Under the title of this paper,* I do not think it foreign to my design, to speak of a man born in her majesty's dominions, and relate an adventure in his life, so uncommon, that its doubtful whether the like has happened to any other of the human race. The person I speak of is Alexander Selkirk, whose name is familiar to men of curiosity, from the fame of his having lived four years and four months alone in the island of Juan Fernandez. I had the pleasure frequently to converse with the * The Englishman. VOL. I. B 2 THE GLEANER. NO. 1. man soon after his arrival in England, in the year 1711. It was matter of great curiosity to hear him, as he is a man of good sense, give an account of the different revolutions in his own mind in that long solitude. When we consider liow painful absence froni company, for the space of but one evening, is to the generality of mankind, wc may have a sense how painful this necessary and constant solitude was to a man bred a sailor, and ever accustomed to enjoy and suffer, eat, drink, and sleep, and perform all offices of life, in fellowship and company. He was put ashore from a leaky vessel, with the captain of which he had an irreconcilable diflcrence ; and he chose rather to take his fate in this place, than in a crazy vessel under a disagreeable commander. His portion were a sea-chest, his wearing-clothes and bedding, a firelock, a pound of gunpowder, a large quan- tity of bullets, a flint and steel, a few pounds of tobacco, an hatchet, a knife, a kettle, a bible and otlier books of devotion ; together with pieces tliat concerned navigation, and his ma- thematical instruments. Resentment against his officer, who had ill used him, made him look forward on this change of life as the more eligible one, till the instant in which he saw the sessel put off; at which moment his heart NO. 1. THE GLEANER. 3 yearned within him, and melted at the parting with his comrades and all human society at once. He had in provision for the sustenance of life, but the quantity of two meals, the island abounding only with wild goats, cats, and rats. He judged it most probable that he should find more immediate and easy relief, by finding shell fish on the shore, than seeking game with his gun. He accordingly found great quantities of turtles, whose flesh is extremely delicious, and of which he frequently ate very plentifully on his first arrival, till it grew disagreeable to his sto- mach, except in jellies. The necessities of hunger and thirst were his greatest diversions from the reflections on his lonely condition. When those appetites were satisfied, the desire of society was as strong a call upon him, and he appeared to himself least necessitous, when he wanted every thing ; for the supports of his body were easily attained; but the eager long- ings for seeing again the face of man, during the interval of craving bodily appetites, were hardly supportable. He grew dejected, languid, and melancholy, scarce able to refrain from doing himself violence; till by degrees, by the force of reason, and frequent reading of the scriptures, and turning; his thouo-hts uoon the stiidv of navigation, after the space of cigliteen months B 2 4- THE GLEANER. NO. 1. he grew thoroughly reconciled to his condition. When he had made this conquest, the vigour of his health, disengagement from the world, a constant cheerful serene sky, and a temperate air, made his life one continual feast, and his being much more joyful than it had before been irksome. He now, taking delight in every thing, made the hut in which he lay, by orna^ ments which he cut downri from a spacious wood, on tlie side of which it was situated, the most delicious bower, fanned with continual breezes and gentle aspirations of wind, that made his repose after the chace equal to the most sen- sual pleasures. I forgot to observe, that, during the time of his dissatisfaction, monsters of the deep, which frequently lay on the shore, added to the terrors of his solitude; their dreadful bowlings and voices seemed too terrible to be made for human ears: but, upon the recovery of his temper, he could with pleasure not only hear their voices, but approach the monsters themselves with great intrepidity. He speaks of sea-lions, whose jaws and tails were capable of seizing and break- ing the limbs of a man, if lie approached them; but at that time his s])irits and life were so Jiigli, that lie could act so regularly and un- concerned, ihat incM'cK' from beinu' unrnlHcd in NO. 1. THE GLEANER. 5! liimself, he killed them with the greatest ease imaginable : for observing, that though their jaws and tails were so terrible, yet the animals being mighty slow in working themselves round, he had nothing to do but place himself exactly opposite to their middle, and as close to them as possible, and he dispatched them with his hatchet at will. The precaution which he took against want, in case of sickness, was to lame kids when very young, so as they might recover their health, but never be capable of speed. These he had in great numbers about his hut ; and when he was himself in full vigour, he could take at full speed the swiftest goat running up a promon- tory, and never failed of catching them, but on a descent. His habitation was extremely pestered with rats, which gnawed his clothes and feet when sleeping. To defend himself against them, he fed and tamed numbers of young kitlings, who lay about his bed, and preserved him from the enemy. When his clotlics were quite worn out, he dried and tacked together the skins of goats, with which he clothed himself; and was inured to pass through woods, bushes, and brambles, witli as much carelessness and precipitance as any other animal. It happened once to liim, 6 THE GLEANER. NO. 1. that running on the summit of a hill, he made a stretch to seize a goat; with which under him, he fell down a precipice, and lay senseless for the space of three days, the length of which time he measured by the moon's growth since his last observation. This manner of life grew so exquisitely pleasant, that he never ha,d a moment heavy upon his hands ; his nights were untroubled, and his days joyous, from the prac- tice of temperance and exercise. It was his manner to use stated hours and places for ex- ercises of devotion, which he performed aloud, in order to keep up the faculties of speech, and to utter himself with greater energy. AVhen I first saw him, I thought, if I had not been let into his character and story, I could have discerned that he had been much separated from company, from his aspect and gesture j there was a strong but clieerful seriousness in his look, and a certain disregard to the ordinary things about him, as if he had been sunk in thought. When the slii]), winch brought him off the island, came in, he received tliem with the greatest indifference witli relation to tlie prospect of going off with them, but with great satisfaction in an o[)p()rtunity to refresh and help tlicni. The man f"re(|uently bewailed his return lo the world, which could not, he said. NO. 1. THE GLEANER. *7 with all its enjoyments, restore him to the tran- quillity of his solitude. Though I had frequently conversed with him, after a few months absence he met me in the street, and though he spoke to me, I could not recollect that I had seen him : familiar converse in this town had taken off the loneliness of his aspect, and quite altered the air of his face. This plain man's story is a memorable ex- ample, that he is happiest who confines his wants to natural necessities ; and he that goes fur- ther in his desires, increases his wants in pro- portion to his acquisitions ; or, to use his own expression, " I am now worth eight hundred pounds, but shall never be so happy as when I was not worth a farthing." The Englishman, No. 26, Dec. 3, 1713. Though the story of Alexander Selkirk was originally published in the Voyage of Woodes Rogers, some doubt has been lately entertained as to the authenticity of the fact ; and it has consequently been asserted, that the interesting ad- ventures of Robinson Crusoe are entirely the creation of Defoe. This paper, by Steele, however, now nearly forgotten, not only sufficiently proves the existence of Selkirk, but that his misfortunes most undoubtedly furnished the outline of the above-mentioned popular romance, THE GLEANER. NO. 2. No. II. Quod tu cum olfacies, deos rogabis, Totum ut te faciant, F^buUe, nasam. CATinxrs. Such as, once smelt to, thcii shalt say, ** .Make me all nose, ye gods, I pray ! " NoTT. Those who set up for critics in poetry, and are met with in ordinary conversation, may be reduced to two classes ; such as judge by rule, or such as judge by nature. The first are men of little or no taste, who having read over the mechanical rules, and learned a few terms of art, are able to point out palpable faults or beauties in an author, and thereby gain a repu- tation for learning. The others are generally talkers, of glittering fancies and hurried imagi- nations, who despise art and method, who ad- mire what was never said before, and affect the character of wits. It is pleasant to see the men of judgment start at a turn or a meta])hor; and the men of taste, as tJiey call themselves, yawn at a plain and noble description. A na- tural critic looks u})on a regular as a dunce ; And the regular thinks the natural little better NO. 2. THE GLEANER, 9 than a coxcomb. If you ask the one his opinion of a tragedy, he will repeat a rant with rapture, and dwell with delight on a simile ; the other will applaud the strictness of the unities, and discover that the action hath a beginning, a riiiddle, and an end. Jack Lively, who pities the ancients, insults his adversary, Sam Scruple, very often with Waller and Cowley. Last iiight he repeated, in a tone of triumph. The trembling strings about her fingers crowd. And tell their joy for every kiss aloud : Small force there needs to make them tremble so ; Touch'd by that hand, who would not do so too ? Scruple shook his head ; and having harangued upon strength and simplicity of thought, re- torted the following lines upon him out of the same author, with an action solemn and the- atrical: Bermuda, wall'd with rocks, who does not know? That happy island where huge lemons grow ! To conclude this comparison : the cautious critics are like the subjects of an arbitrary prince ; the licentious are in a state of bar- barous anarchy : but the free critic, like a fi-ee Briton, is governed by the laws which he him- self votes for ; whose liberty is checked by the 10 THE GLEANER. NO. 2. restraints of truth, and the monarchy of right reason. A man who trusts entirely to his natural talents, is often governed by caprice, and can give no reason why he is pleased. Thus a fanciful fellow, who amuses himself with the woods and mountains which he discovers in the clouds, is angry if his friends are not charm- ed with the airy landskip. On the contrary, a critic who tastes just according to law, de- ceives his own heart, and talks of beauties cele- brated by others, which he cannot see himself; like good-natured travellers, who own they perceive objects at a distance, out of pure com- pliance to the master of the company : but a true judge of writing is like a painter or a sta- tuary, who doth not content himself with shew- ing fine images of nature, unless he likewise informs the spectators wherein the beauties consist ; whence arises the propriety of colour- ing, and justness of symmetry. To a good natural discernment, art must therefore be joined, to finish a critick. Without a natural talent, all the acquirements of learning are vain ; but nature, unassisted, will go no great lengths. The soul of man indeed loves truth alone ; but is easily led to mistake appearances for realities, if judgment, which is built upon JJO. 2. THE GLEANER. H experience, doth not direct penetration. Life, being short, will not give us time to gather a necessary stock of experience ourselves ; for which reason we must borrow from our ances- tors, as they borrowed from those who went before them. By their writings we can trace the several arts back to their originals, and learn in an hour, what by tedious and gradual deductions was the work perhaps of several ages. A natural critic will readily own that he formed his judgment by degrees, that he grew wiser and wiser by experience ; one who joins art to nature doth the same thing, but doth it more effectually; he throws himself back into ancient time, lives a thousand years of criticism in a month, and, without stirring out of his closet, is a Greek, a Roman, a Frenchman, and a Briton. A moderate search into antiquity will teach us, that nature is not cramped, but assisted, by artful authors ; who complain of such restraint, are . like clowns under the discipline of the dancing-master ; whereas the well-bred know, that a graceful motion is the most easy, and art is only the unlearning of what is unnatural. In ancient Greece and Rome, rhetoric was there- fore the foimdation of their polite learning. Their cliildren were instructed early in the rules of method, and the propriety of thought 12 THE GLEANER. NO. 2. and style. Having imbibed in their youth these unerring maxims of good sense, we find their most trifling compositions at least uni- form ; and whether they write in the dramatic, lyric, or epic manner, they seldom fail to keep up to the several characteristics which distinguish those various kinds from one ano- ther. An heroic poet assumes a character ma- nifestly distinct from a writer of pastoral ; a tomplainer in elegy is under a different inspi- ration from that which breaks out in an ode. The same man, under these various denomi- nations, is in effect so many persons. If he speaks, if he thinks, in one kind as he doth in the others, he confounds two or three charac- ters. It is not the muse, the lover, the swain, or the god, but Bavius at hard labour in his study. A nice and subtle judgment in poetry hath, in all polite nations, ancient and modern, been happily compared to the delicacy of taste. Now a taste cannot be fine, if it only distinguishes sweet from bitter, or pleasant from nauseous. No gentleman that drinks his bottle, pretends to a tolerable palate, unless he can distinguish the wines of France from tliosc of Portugal ; and if he is perfectly nice, he will tell yon,witI) his eyes shut, what province, what mountain. KO. 2. THE GLEANER. 13 supplied th^ liquor. Every man born healthful is indeed naturally capable of distinguishing one juice &^om another ; but if he hath de- bauched himself with sophisticated mixtures, it is odds that he will prefer the bad to the good ; that he will swallow with transport what was squeezed from the sloe, and make faces at the Burgundian grape. Since the pleasure arising from the polite arts is infinitely beyond the most refined sen- sations, he cannot be esteemed an useless man to his country, who endeavours to direct man- kind in the choice of the most exquisite and elegant satisfaction. It is yet further an en- couragement to men of fine spirits and beautiful imaginations, to have their works exhibited advantageously to the w^orld, and rescued from ignorance or envy. There is not, perhaps, so much vigour of mind and vivacity required in a critick as in an author; but delicacy alone can discover delicacy. An ordinary spectator is able to describe the fine mouth of Cleora ; the full eye, the open forehead of Chloe ; but who shall explain why Amoret is agreeable ? w^hat that air is, which is not to be accounted for in any one or other feature, but results from the union of all ? Who can tell what is the con- texture and shape of those particles which pro- 14 THE GLEANER. NO. 2. duce an idea of a grateful taste to the palate ? and what beau knows the philosophy of the perfume which emboldens him to appear among the ladies ? Much more difficult is the task to explain the perplexed delicacies of poetry, to present its beauties to the eye, to make the majesty of it familiar, and account for its glo- rious confusion. Englishman, No. 7, Oct. 20, 1713. Of the few works of Steele which have not lately been republished, I believe The Englishman to be one. It con- tains, however, notwithstanding its political origin, a large por- tion of miscellaneous matter, of merit little, if at all, inferior to his contributions in the Guardian. I have, therefore, thought that it would not be unacceptable to my readers, should I present them with a couple of specimens from this produc- tion. As the other minor periodical works of Steele and Addison have within these few years revisited the Press, I have, on that account, forborne to select from their pages. NO. 3. THE GLEANER. 15 No. III. Somnia, terrores magicos, miracula, sagas, Nocturnos lemures, portentaque, Thcssala, rides ? HoRATIUt. Say can you laugh indignant at the schemes Of magic (errors, visionary dreams. Portentous wonders, witching imps of hell. The nightly goblin, and enchanting spell } Francis. There seem to be a certain set of unhappy prepossessions peculiar to the lower part of mankind, which being drawn in with their milk, and conveyed to them sooner than their letters, never forsake them even till they bend upon the stick, and pore through spectacles. Such are the notions of fairies, demons, spectres, the powers of natural magick, and the terrors of witchcraft ; all which they entertain with a positive confidence of their being true; and,what is worse, make them a part of religion itself; so that a wise man would find it a matter of no small difficulty to cut off this branch of super- stition from their minds, without doing an in- jury to the stock they graft it upon, and re- moving the best principle of happiness at the same time with the worst and most fruitful of miseries. Neither can we say that this evil is 16 THE GLEANER. NO. 3. confined to the under and less polite part of the world ; it has spread from the cottage to the farm, from the farm to the squire's hall; and, like the imaginary tortures it represents, though it most frequents the scenes of ruin and spots of darkness, yet it sometimes glares in open day, and haunts the better breasts of learning and education. It is matter for our wonder tliat people of sense should indulge the gar- rulity of nurses and servants, which are the vessels this spirit resides most powerfully in, and suffer them to convey these ridiculous hor- rors to their children, which often take such firm possession of their younger heads, that no future powers of reason and religion are able to banish them ; but, like some hereditary dis- tempers in the blood, they may be indeed abated by wholesome prescriptions, but can never be eradicated ; and will certainly break forth anew, when they are most dangerous, at the dccHne of age. I fancy every man may find a bigot of tliis kind within the circle of his acquaintance; and, for my own part, I know too many, to be un- concerned at the growth of a folly, wliich creates so mucli uneasiness in tlie soul, and fills it with legions of foreign fears which have no foundation in nature or reason. Should a stran- NO. 3. THE GLEANER. 17 ger of sound sense, or one who had no notion of the prevalence of this evil, be presented with a faithful catalogue of all the believers in spirits and iacantations, within the kingdom of Great Britain, he might be inclined to suspect that the greater part of the nation were yet unconverted to Christianity, and under the tyranny of a pagan priesthood. To give only a few instances of what has fallen within the compass of my own observation. I have frequently had twenty vouchers at one time for the real cause of the fairies' ring in a country meadow, who have actually seen those diminutive beings tripping in their cir- cular dance, and would for my conviction have taken their oaths of it before a justice of the peace. I own, that I could not allow my- self to accept of this way of proof; but they, good people, interpreted that only as if I had been ashamed to recant. I remember a poor country girl at my friend 'Squire Gosling's, who suffered under the perse- cution of these little demons for not cleaning her dairy, as much as Sir John FalstafF did by their substitutes in Windsor Park. The marks were so visible, and the truth so undisputed, that I had like to have affronted the whole family, VOL. I. c Id THE GLEANEV no. 3. only by saying that I thought the impression a little too large for the hand of a fairy. There is a very grave gentleman of my ac^ quaintance who has seen some hundreds of spirits; the man seems to be in his right senses, and, like the madman mentioned by Horace, performs every office of life with decency ; but when you touch upon this subject, he runs riot, and cannot bear the least contradiction. He is naturally phlegmatic j and when I once asked him with a grave face, after much atten- tion to his stories, at what time they generally appeared to him, his reply was, " I see them most commonly after the drinking of brandy.'* This was enough for me, and I beg my reader not to think it a pun, for it is really a fact. The worthy Acasto, who has the true spirit of religion and good sense, has often related to me his successes in attacking this superstitious humour among his neighbours in the country. There was, it seems, a devil, or at least a spirit or two, who had taken possession of some of his tenants* houses for many years ; where they took the privilege of disturbing the family with all manner of noises, rattling of chains, clatter- ing of pewter; and, in short, flinging the house out of window, as we say, whenever they NO. 3. THE GLEANER. 19 pleased. They sometimes made excursions into the adjacent common, and kept their revels by a ditch side, or under an old oak ; and were demons of such considerable figure and stand- ing, that they were thought too hard for either minister or conjuror. However, my friend, pitying the miserable credulity of his neigh- bours, first dispossessed them of the houses, then pursued them to the common, and at last beat them quite out of the parish : though the people will not be persuaded but that they are lodged in a great wood, about a mile and half distance from Acasto*s seat ; and that they will begin their incursions as soon as he leaves the country. However, my friend intends to begin his attack upon the old wood the first favour- able moonshine night, and does not question but he shall complete his triumph before the summer is over. His method was, to take the pains to convince them by watching himself at the pretended seasons of disturbance j and his presence so effectually awed their imaginations, that they started no Mormos while he was with them ; and, by often repeating the trial, and reasoning kindly with them upon the subject, he worked to the bottom of the delusion, and delivered them from all the monsters of their own formation. c2 20 THE GLEANER. NO. S^ I was led into these reflections, by reading a very ridiculous book lately published : the title of it is, Mr. Lilly's History of his Life and Times ; where that notorious impostor has put together all the idle fancies of whimsical or cunning people, under the notion of an art or science. The fellow relates the cheats of his profession with the formality of truth ; and I don*t question but that they will pass for such upon the vul- gar, since they fall in with their natural preju- dices. And therefore when he says, that Sarah Skelborn, the Speculatrix, had the best eyes for second sight that ever he saw, he will certainly be believed ; because it is a received maxim with tlic ignorant, that every one has not the faculty of discerning spirits and future contin- gencies. I should not have taken notice of this silly book, had not I found that the tricks of judicial astrology are practised with great ad- v^antage to their professors ; that many ladies have as high an opinion of the Dumb Doctor as of the great Meade ; and that Partridge is daily preferred to the immortal Sir Isaac New- ton. Censok, No. 11, iMay 4, 1715- Tlie superstitions alluded to in this paper, and which had previously attracted the notice of Addison, are now seldom XO. S. THE GLEANER. 21 to be found, even among the lowest orders, as articles of popular belief. They still serve, however, to decorate the regions of poetry and romance, and are still capable, through their metaphysical possibility, of exciting, under the direction/ of genius, very powerful and grateful emotions ; while, at the same time, from the progress of every branch of science," their impression cannot now be such as to warp, in any inju- { rjoug degree, the powers pf ratiocination, -^ 22 THE GLEANER. NO, 4. No. IV. ~ Pauci dignoscerc possunt Vera houa, atquc illis multutn diversa, rcmota Erroris nebula. Quid enim rationc timemus, Aut cupimus? Quid tarn dextro pede concipis, ut te Conatus non poenitcat, votique peracti? JuVENAt. Mark by man how little understood Is the true path of evil or of good : Error's deep shade o'erhangs our hopes and fears, And prosperous fools repent their plans in tears, Hodgson. There was a country-woman, who, upon her intimacy with a fairy, desired her to come and assist at her labour. The good woman was delivered of a daughter; when the fairy (taking the infant in her arms) said to the mother, make your choice ; the child, if you have a mind, shall be exquisitely handsome, excel in wit even more than in beauty, and be queen of a mighty empire ; but, with all, unhappy : or, if you had rather, she shall be an ordinary, ugly, country creature, like yourself; but contented with her condition. The mother immediately chose wit and beauty for her daughter, at the hazard of any misfortunes. NO. 4. THE GLEANER. 23 As the child grew, new beauties opened daily in her face, till, in a few years, she surpassed all the rural lasses that the oldest people had ever seen. Her turn of wit was gentle, polite, and insinuating ; she was of a ready apprehension, and soon learned every thing, so as to excel her teachers. Every holiday she danced upon the green, with a superior grace to any of her companions. Her voice was sweeter than any shepherd's pipe, and she made the songs she used to sing. For some time she was not apprised of her own charms ; when, diverting herself with her play-fellows on the green flowery border of a fountain, she was surprised with the reflection of her face ; she observed how different her fea.- tures and her complexion seemed from the rest of the company, and admired herself. The coun- try flocking from day to day to obtain a sight of her, made her yet more sensible of her beauty. Her mother, who relied on the predictions of the fairy, began already to treat her as a queen, and spoiled her by flatteries. Tlie young dam- sel would neither sew, nor spin, nor look after the sheep ; her whole amusement was to gather flowers, to dress her hair with them, to sing and to dance in the shade. Tlie king of the country was a very povvTrfrj 24 THE GLEANER. NO. 4. king, and he had but one son, whose name was Florio; for which reason his father was impatient to have him married. The young prince could never bear the mentioning any of the princesses of the neighbouring nations; because a fairy had told him, that he should find a shepherdess more beautiful and more accomplished than all the princesses in the world. Therefore the king gave orders to assemble all the village nymphs of his realm who were under the age of eighteen, to make a choice of her who should appear most worthy of so great an honour. In pursuance of the order, when they came to be sorted, a vast number of virgins, whose beauty was not very extraordinary, were refused admittance ; and only thirty picked out, who infinitely surpassed all others. These thirty virgins wxre ranged in a great hall, in the figure of a half moon, that tlie kin^ and his son mif]rht have a distinct view of them together. Florella (our young damsel) appeared in the midst of her competitors, like a lily amongst marygolds; or as an orange tree in blossom shews, amongst the mountain shrubs. The king immediately declared aloud, that she deserved his crown; and Florio thought himself happy in the jiossession of Florella. Our sh('])her(less was instantly desired to cast off her country weeds, and to accept a habit NO. 4. THE GLEANER. 25 richly embroidered with gold. In a few minutes she saw herself covered with pearls and dia- monds, and a troop of ladies was appointed to serve her. Every one was attentive to prevent her desires before she spoke, and she was lodged within the palace, in a magnificent apartment, where, in- stead of tapestry, there were large pannels of looking-glass from the floor to the cieling, that she might have the pleasure of seeing her beauty multiplied on all sides, and that the prince might admire her wherever he cast his eyes. Florio in a few days quitted the chace, and all the manly exercises in wnich before he delighted, that he might be perpetually with his mistress. The nuptials were concluded, and, soon after, the old king died. Thereupon Florella becom- ing queen, all the councils and the affairs of state were directed by her wisdom. The queen-mother (w^hose name was Invi- dessa) grewjealous of her daughter-in-law. She was an artful, perverse, cruel woman; and age had so much aggravated her natiu'al deformity, that she seemed a fiiry. The youth and beauty of Florella made her appear yet more frightful: she could not bear the sight of so fine a creature ; she likewise dreaded her wit and understanding, and gave herself up to all the rage of envy. 26 THE GLEANER. NO. 4. " You want the soul of a prince (would she often say to her son), or you could not have married this mean cottager, How can you be so abject as to make an idol of her ? Then she is as haughty, as if she had been born in the palace where she lives. You should have followed the example of the king your father ; when he thought of taking a wife, he preferred me, because I was the daughter of a monarch equal to himself. Send away this insignificant shepherdess to her hamlet, and take to your bed and throne some young princess whose birth is answerable to your own." Florio continued deaf to the instances of his mother ; but, one morning, Invidcssa got a billet into her hands, which Florella had written to the king; this she gave to a young courtier, who, by her instructions, shewed it to the king, pretending to have received it from his queen, with such marks of affection as were due only to his majesty. Florio (blinded by his jealousy, and the malignant insinuations of his mother) im- mediately ordered Florella to be imprisoned for life, in a high tower built upon the point of a rock that stood in the sea. There she wept night and day, not knowing for what supposed crime slie was so severely treated by the king, who had so passionately loved her. Slie was jicrmitlcd to see no person but an old woman. NO. 4. THE GLEANER- 27 to whom Invidessa had intrusted her, and whose business it was to insult her upon all occasions. Now Florella called to mind the village, the cottage, the sweet privacy, and the rural plea- sures she had quitted. One day, as she sat in a pensive posture, overwhelmed with grief, and to herself accused the folly of her mother, who chose rather to have her a beautiful unfortunate queen, than an ugly contented shepherdess, the old woman who was her tormentor came to acquaint her that the king had sent an execu- tioner to take off her head, and that she must prepare to die. Florella replied, that she was ready to receive the stroke. Accordingly, the executioner (sent by the king's order at the persuasions of Invidessa) appeared with a drawn sabre in his hand, ready to perform his com- mission ; when a woman stept in, who said she came from the queen-mother, to speak a word or two in private to Florella before she was put to death. The old woman, imagining her to be one of the ladies of the court, suffered her to deliver the message ; but it was the fairy who had foretold the misfortunes of Florella at her birth, and now assumed the likeness of one of Invidessa's attendants. She desired the company to retire a while, and then spoke thus to Florella in secret : " Are 28 THE GLEANER. NO. 4. you willing to renounce that beauty which has proved so fatal to you ? are you willing to quit the title of queen, to put on your former habit, and to return to your village ?" Florella was transported at the offer. Thereupon the fairy applied an enchanted vizard to her face : her fea- tures instantly became deformed, all the symme- try vanished, and she was now as disagreeable as she had been handsome. Under this change it was not possible to know her, and she passed without difficulty through the company who came to see her execution. In vain did they search the tower ; Florella was not to be found. The news of this escape was soon brought to the king and to Invidessa, who commanded diligent search to be made after her throughout the kingdom ; but to no purpose. The fairy by this time had restored Florella to her mother, who would never have been able to recollect her altered looks, had she not been let into the circumstances of her story. Our shepherdess was now contented to live an ugly, poor, unknown creature, in the village, where she tended sheep. She frequently heard people relate and lament over her adventures ; songs were made upon them, which drew tears ii-om all eyes. She often took a pleasure in singing these songs with her companions, and would NO. 4. THE GLEANER, 29- often weep with the rest ; but still she thought herself happy with her little flock, and was never once tempted to discover herself to any of her acquaintance. Free-Thinker, No. 80, Dec. 26, 1718. This narrative is the first of a series of Fairy and Oriental Tales, written for the Free- Thinker ; and which display a con- fiiderable share of imagination, and an undeviating attention to rectitude of precept. so THE GLEANER. NO. 3, No. V. Ut pictura poesis. HORATICS. Poems and Pictures are adjudged alike. COLMAK. Dr. Lacon, Mr. Johnson, and myself, were taking a walk one evening last summer, when on a sudden a dark and thick cloud gathered in the east, which was adorned with a beautiful rainbow. This prospect gave me occasion to mention Sir I. Newton's Principles. How justly has that great philosopher asserted the original distinction of those colours, the con- fluence of which produces this bright composi- tion which we call light. " You see," said I, " in this instance, that the beams of the sun being intercepted, modified, and refracted by the black surface of the cloud, can no longer keep their complication entire; but the coalition is dissolv- ed, and the parts are actually disunited. Here we plainly discern the threads of this shining aggregate unravelled, and displayed in their native colours." " Your observation (said Dr. Lacon) is instructive and delightful; and the sight of this curious arch, drawn by one look of KO. 5* THE GLEANER. 31 the sun^ has awakened in my mind a thought concerning nature's skill in painting. What a surprising representation is this of that bright body, imbibed and dissipated in a mirror of ob- scure vapours ! Yet if we extend our observation further, we shall find an infinite variety of objects of this kind, which excite equal admira- tion and pleasure. With what wonderful success has nature painted all the scenes of this theatre, the world ! How masterly are her designs, how strong and bold her draughts, how delicate her touches, and how rich and beautiful is her colour- ing ! It is with inimitable skill that she manages and proportions her lights and shades, and mixes and works in her colours : the gardens smile w ith her fruits of different dye; and the verdure of the fields is beautifully varied by different flowers : what pencil can express the glowing blushes of the rose, the glossy white of the lily, or the rich crimson of the amaranth ? what master can delineate the changeable colours in the neck of the dove, and in the tail of the peacock, arising from the rays of light glancing and playing among the feathers ?" Here Dr. Lacon pausing, Mr. Johnson said, " Nature, no doubt, is an in- imitable painter ; but when I reflect upon the beauty, variety, and harmony of the universe, I am apt to consider that as a fine poem, whicli S2 THE GLEANER. NO. 5. you look on as a finished picture." This started a new subject of discourse; and gave us occasion to consider the various instances in which these two arts. Painting and Poetry, resemble each other, till our conversation was broken ofF by a servant that called us to supper. The next morning I recollected the heads of our discourse, and formed them into the following essay. Though the melody of the voice, and that of musical instruments, bear a great resemblance to the charms of Poetry, as they are expressed in harmonious numbers, and a pleasing cadence of words; yet the affinity between Poetry and Painting must be allowed to be much greater. *Tis an universal observation, that there is a great similitude between these sister arts; but the parallel between them not having yet been drawn at length, I will give an imperfect sketch of some features and properties in which they agree, that have not, as I remember, been touched before. It is obvious at first view, that the distinguish- ing difference of these arts from others consists in an imitation of nature ; and that the more excellent and perfect they are, the nearer they approach to an entire resemblance of it. As moral truth is the conformity betweea our thoughts and assertions ; so the truth of Painting KO. .5. THE GLEANER. 33 is founded in the similitude between the picture and the exemplar in the mind of the artist, where it is first imagined, and has an ideal existence previous to that on the canvass : but though a picture may be true in this agreement with its original in the painter's fancy, yet if that original is wTong conceived, and has a manifest difformity to nature, the picture is justly said to be false and ill conceived ; and in this respect. Poetry exactly resembles her sister Painting. The painter is a poet to the eye, and a poet a painter to the ear. One gives us pleasure by silent eloquence, the othei* by vocal imagery. One shews the art of drawing and colouring by tlie pen, the other with equal elegance expresses a poetical spirit by the pencil. When a poet has formed an admirable description of a palace, a river, or a grove, the reader in transport cries, what fine painting is this ! Painting is divided into various kinds, accord- \ ing to the variety of the objects it represents, and the different manner of representing them. Grotesque Painting, in which the Dutch excel, sometimes exhibits an assemblage of country drolls at a fair or a wedding, and sometimes the humours of a sot, oi' a hen-pecked l^lockhead: this species therefore has a great likeness to the low poets, who write humorous ballads, VOL. I. p \ S* THE GLEANER. NO. 5. farces, and burlesque verse, the end of both being to move laughter. Another species of painters delineate land- skips, and convey to the eye pleasant prospects; they abbreviate space, contract a country, and grace the apartments of a city palace with a variety of rural scenes : groves spread their branches, rivers flow, fountains weep, and shepherds tend their flocks, in rooms of state ; and sometimes the spectators are entertained with the views of solitary deserts, harmless monsters, and unfrightful terrors. And this sort may be justly compared to the writers of pastorals, whose province it is to exhibit to the imagination the same objects. The face-painters, or limners of portraits, who express only tlie eyes, features, and air of the countenance, the posture of the body, and impassionate life, are not allied to any distinct species of poets ; but they resemble those that describe a graceful or a deformed man. But they are more aptly compared to those poets, who, to celebrate the praises of the fair-one by whose beauty tlicy are captivated, delineate her face, and describe the cliarms of her person : so is Lesbia drawn by Horace, and Laura by Petrarch. But the similitude between Heroic and NO. 5. THE GLEANER. 35 Tragic Poetry, and Painting of History, the two most excellent kinds of imitating nature, is the most conspicuous. As the epick and tragic poets, by the warm ideas they convey, touch all the springs and movements of our minds, and take possession of our hearts, by propagating their own passions and transmitting their very souls into our bosoms; so tlie masters of the great manner in painting history, who express in their pieces great design, generous sentiments, and the dignity of the sublime style, animate their canvass with the most lively and active passions : all the emotions of tiie heart appear in the faces of their figures with the utmost spirit and vivacity ; the whole soul is collected and exerted in the eyes, vv^hich sometimes flash with fury, and sometimes are transported v>^ith joy, or up-lifted with admiration : in one piece they are filled with horror and consternation, and in another they melt with tender affection. What poetical design and description, what an epic imagination does Raphael shew in his celebrated piece of Constantine and Maxentiusl and what masterly and admirable painting does Virgil express, when he describes the battle of the Latins and the Trojans ! Lay-Monastery, No. 31, Jan. 25, 1713. D 2 56 THE GLEANER. NO. 5. The parallel between Poetry and Painting, which occupies this and the succeeding number, is written with a warmth of style, and beauty of imagery, by no means common in the productions of Sir Richard Blackmore, to whom there is every reason to suppose it must be ascribed. The following passage, from the opening of M. Du Fresnoy's poem, De Arte Graphica, as translated by Mason, forms an admirable expansion of the mottos which Blackmore Has se- lected from Horace on this occasion : True Poetry the painter's power displays; True Painting emulates the poet's lays: The rival sisters, fond of equal fame. Alternate change their oflice and their name j Bid silent Poetry the canvass warm, The tuneful page with speaking picture charm. What to the ear sublimer rapture brings, That strain alone the genuine poet sings.' That form alone where glows peculiar grace, The genuine painter condescends to trace : No sordid theme will verse or paint admit, Unworthy colours if unworthy wit. From you, blest Pair! Religion deigns to clairei Her sacred honours: at her awful name, High o'er the stars you take your soaring fliglit. And rove the regions of supernal light; Attend to lays that flow from tongues divine, Undazzled gaze where charms scrapliic shine; Trace beauty's beam to its eternal spring, And pure to man the fire celestial bring. Then round this globe on joint ])urbuit ye stray, Time's ample annals studiously survey ; And from the eddii^s of oblivion's stream Propitious snatch each memorable theme. Thus to each form, in heaven, and earth, and iea,. That wins with grace, or awes with dignity, To each exalted deed, which dares to claim The glorious meed of an immortal fame, That meed ye grant. Hence, to remotest age, The hero's soul darts from the poet's page j NO. 5. THE GLEANER. S^ Hence, from the canvass, still, with wonted state. He lives, he breathes, he braves the frowi^of fate. Such i)owers, such praises, heaven-born Pair ! belong To magic colouring, and creative song. The version of Fresnoy by Mason is one of the very few translations which can boast of excelling the original. 38 THE GLEANER. NO. 6. No. VI. (^A coiidniiatlon of the Parallel helxceen Poetry and Painting^') Picforibus atqiie Poetis Quidlibet audendi semper fuit a-qua potestas, HoRATir*. Poets and Painters ever were i.11f)wed Some daring Uiglit above the vulgar crowd. COLMAIV. The masters of the pencil often take their ideas, and borrow the passioiis they would exliibit, from the writings of the poet; v.hile the painter is himself but the copyist, and the poet the originaL 'Tis observed of Raphael, the most famous in his art, that lie formed the Jupiter in his Psyclie, by tlie admirable description of that deity in Virgil, when Venus addressed her peti- tion to him. Nor is tlie poet, in his turn, less obliged to the great pieces of the painter, who often sits to tlie poet, while he forms his ideas; and, iiis])ired by vlie lively and passionate figures ex])ressed in colours, translates the painter, and turns the ])icLiire into \ crsc. The sister arts, to heighten their images, and strike our minds with greater force, agree to represent liiiJnuii (jualilie.s as persons, and to NO. 6. THE GLEANER. S9 endow them with their peculiar properties. They describe virtues in the form of goddesses, and vices in that of furies, and give to each their emblematical distinctions. Thus Justice holds her sword in one hand, and her balance in the other ; while Fame is provided with wings and a silver trumpet. And thus the portraits of Sin and Death, as animated beings, are ad- mirably drawn by Spenser, and afterwards by Milton, to move detestation and terror. The heroic pen and pencil equally conspire to preserve to men the memory of their illus- trious progenitors, to record their great deeds, to rescue their names from oblivion, and, in spite of mortality and the tomb, to continue the existence of heroes and heroines : they anni- hilate intervening time, and make past ages in a manner present, that the living and the dead may converse togetlier, and that tlie virtues and achievements of ancestors may inspire their sons with generous resolutions to imitate their great example. To be thus transmitted to posterity as objects of praise and admiration, is that allur- ing idea of immortality, by the impulse of which so many great spirits have in all ages been ani- mated and pushed on to the most hazardous cnterprizes. As it is the property of heroic pieces of paint- 40 THE GLEANER. NO. 6. ing, as well as of epic poems, to excite pleasure and admiration, by setting before us the import- ant actions of illustrious persons ; so they agree in this, that in each distinct work of this kind of Painting and Poetry, there is but one principal agent, and but one chief action, to which all the other real or imaginary characters in a regular subordination must be referred. If tliis relation and connection of the characters and the under actions is not preserved, that is, if they do not conspire to carry on and influence the main design, the unity in each is broken. It is the end of each of these species, not only to move the passions, but to inspire generous sentiments, and convey to the mind moral and divine instruction. Besides the admirable pieces of devotion which are frequent in foreign coun- tries, who can view in our own the cartoons of Raphael, and see Ananias struck dead in an instant by the breath of an apostle, and not receive awlul impressions of di\ine vengeance, and of indignation at the guilt of perjury ? If any man cannot find enough in Elymas the sorcerer, deprived in a moment of his sight, and gro})ing for his way at noon-da\', to re\erencc the power and justice of the Supreme J3eing, he must himseli' be another miracle of intellectual blindness. Is it possible to observe the silent KO. 6. THE GLEANER. 41 elo([Lience, earnest aspect, and devout air of St. Paul preaching, or to contemplate the various shapes and characters of attention, contrition, shame, confusion, admiration, and complacency, so perfectly expressed in the several faces of the audience, and not be touched with the like passions? I shall dismiss this head, when I have observed that the painter and the poet have many pecu- liar advantages to make men wiser and better, by conveying excellent sentiments, and exciting generous passions ; yet the spectators of one, and the readers of the other, are for the most part so entirely taken up with the art and beauty of the pieces, that they seldom attend to the moral instruction ; whence it comes to pass, that these masters have many admirers, and but few converts. The pieces of great artists, by the improve- ments they receive from time, are Iieightened in their value ; and many painters have been ad- mired and applauded in after-ages, who were ne- glected and decried while they lived. Corrcgio's pictures are now celebrated among the most excellent works of that art; yet in his life-time they were so little regarded, that the author wanted bread, with one of the best pencils of Europe in his hand. 42 THE GLEANER. NO. 6, Mr. Dryden, in his verses to Sir Godfrey Kneller, has beautifully expressed the advan- tages that good pictures receive from age :-^ For Time shall with his ready pencil stand. Retouch your figures with his ripening hand. Mellow the colours, and imbrown the teint, Add ev'ry grace that Time alone can grant; To future ages shall your fame convey. And give more beauties tlian he takes awaty. This last observation indeed cannot be exactly applied to poetry, since time often obscures rather than beautifies the diction of the poet : yet the other part of the parallel holds; and it is a common remark, that many eminent poets are less valued by their contemporaries than by posterity. There cannot be a more evident demonstration of this, than the fate of our great Milton, whose poem, which is justly now acknowledged to be the most admirable production of British genius, lay many years, to the great dishonour of that age, unread, and little respected. After ages, who are free from the delusions of faction, envy, and personal dislike, will impartially judge of poems, and decree them the esteem due to that merit, whicJi the passions of the times in wJiicli tlie authors lived would not suffer contemporaries NO. 6. THE GLEANER. 43 to discern, or to acknowledge. When dis- interested posterity holds the balance of justice to weigh the real worth of a poem, it will first refine and purify it from all the allay cast in by malevolence and detraction; as, on the other hand, it will efface all ungenuine and adventitious beauty imparted to it by the indulgence of friends, or the zeal of a designing party ; and Avhen the merit of such a writing, being freed from unnatural mixtures, shall be reduced to a standard fineness, and put into equal scales, it will pass like the coins of princes in foreign countries, only by intrinsic weight and purity. Posterity will infallibly assert their liberty of judging for themselves, and 'tis certain their determination will be impartial; which, if the passions of human nature are considered, is impracticable before. The painter sometimes debases the dignity of his art, shocks the modest spectator by the im- morality of his pieces, and transmits by the eye, which is the most warm and immediate manner of conveyance, impure ideas to the mind. 'Tis surprising to observe in some collections that adorn our rooms, the ranging and order of the pictures : here you behold a devout martyr in the agonies of death, and next to it a lascivious Jupiter; in one place a penitent Magdalene dis- solved in tears, and not far off a naked Venus: 44 THE GLEANER. NO. 6. which is just as if one should see in a lady's closet, an obscene author and a prayer-book lying together ; or, which is frequent among us, poems of devotion and wanton sonnets, hymns to the Supreme Being and praises to Cupid, huddled together in the same inconsist- ent volume. The comic writers, and the petulant versifiers, often prostitute their genius no less than the painter ; and, to court the favour of those who espouse the interest of vice and impiety, break through the restraints of good sense and decency, and often entertain the audience at the expence of religion, virtue, and innocence. Lay-Monastery, No. 32, Jan. 27, 1713.. NO. 7. THE GLEANER. 45 No. yii. Si veteies i in highest heav'n, arruy'd in gold Empyreal: from l)efore her vanish'd Night, Shot through with orient bcunn; . NO. 7. THE GLEANER. 51 Mean while, To resalute the world with sacred light, Leucothoe wak'd, and with fresh dews embalm'd The earth -. Now sacred Light began to dawn In Eden, on the humid flowers that breath'd Their morning incense ; when all things that breathe From the earth's high altar, send up silent praise To the Creator, and his nostrils fill With grateful smell . In some of these poetical pictures which I have here set before the reader, the heavens only are shewn, and the first springing of light there ; in others, the earth is taken into the pro- spect, with her flowers wet with dew, and her rising vapours; and sometimes the occupa- tions of living creatures proper to the season are represented, and afford a yet greater diver- sity of amusing images. Such is that admir- able description in Otway's Orphan : Wish'd Morning's come ; and now upon the plains And distant mountains, where they feed their flocks, The happy shepherds leave their humble huts. And with their pipes prockiim the new-born day. The lusty swain comes with his well-filled scrip Of healthful viands, which, when hunger calls, With much content and appetite he eats, To follow in the field his daily toil, And drtss the grateful glebe that yields him fruits. E 2 52 THE GLEANER. NO. 7. The beasts, tliat under tlie warm hedges slept, And v/eathercd out the cold bleak night, are up, And, looking tow'rds tlic neighb'ring pastures, raise Their voice, and bid their fellow brutes good-morrow. The cheerful birds too, on the tops of trees. Assemble all in choirs, and with their notes Salute and welcome up the rising sun. T shall conclude this paper with a remark, which, I believe, will be allowed by all impar- tial critics ; that whoever will take the pains to look into the several descriptions of this kind, which may be found in the works of ancient and modern writers, will find that the English poets have described the Morning with at least as much elegance of fancy as any others have done, and with more variety. Lay-Monasteuy, No. 39, Feb. 12, 1713. As the jxta-positIon of descriptions thus beautiful forms an elegant entertainment to the lovers of poetry, I shall beg leave to enlarge the list of parallelisms by the adduction of a icw more passages : Piimiim Aurora novo qnam spargit lumine terras, Et variie Toliicn-s, ncinora avia jht volitaiites Acra per tciierum, liqiiidis lota vocibus obplcnt ; Quain subito solcat Sol ortus tempore tali Convpstire sua perfundeiib omnia lure, Omnibus in proniptu manifestumque e^sc yldemus. LUCHKTIUS. When first Aurora o'er the dewy earth Spreads iier .oft light, and throug;h the pathless grore NO. 7. THE GLEANER. 5$ A thousand songsters ope their liquid throats. All ether charminj;; sudden we survey Th' effusive Sun, as with a garment, deck With liis own radiance all created things; Instant in speed, unbounded iu his blaze. COOD. Siepe videmus, Aurea quam primum, gommanteis rore, per horbas Matutina rubent radiati lumina Solis; Exiialantque larus nebulam, fluvieique perennes : Ipsaquc et interdum tellus fumare videtur: Omnia qua% sursum quam conciliantur in alto, Corpore concreto, subtexunt nubila coelum. Lucretius. Full oft we view, 'When, at tlie dawn, the <;olden-tressed sun Flames o'er the meadows rich with rory gems. And from the mountains, lakes, and teeming glebes, Draws many a vapour, which when once aloft By the chill air conriens'd, to clouds concretes, And with its filmy drap'ry veils the heavens. (iooD. observant of approaching Day, The meek ey'd INIorn appears, mother of dews ; At first faint-gleaming in the dappled east; Till far o'er eilier spreads the wideniiig glow ; And from before the lustre of her face. White break the clouds away with quicken"d step ; Brown Nigiit retires : young Day pours in ap;ice, And opens all the lawny prospect wide. The dripping rock, the mountain's misty top, Swell on the sight, and brighten with the dawn. Blue, thro' the dusk, the smoking currents shine; And from (lie bladed field the fearful liare Limps awkward ; while along the forest glade The wild deer trip, and often turning, gaze At early passenger. Music awakes The native voice of undissen;bled joy ; And thick around tlie woodland hvmns arise. Kous'd by the cock, tlie soon-clad shepherd leaves His moasy cottage, where with peace he dwells j 5'h THE GLEANER. NO. 7. And from the crowded fold in order drives His Hock, to taste the verdure of the Morn. Thomson'. The breezy call of incense-breathing Morn, The swallow twitt'ring from liie straw-built shed, The cock's shrill clarion, or tiie echoins; horn, No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed. Gray. NO. 8. THE GLEANEU. No. YIII. Infert se septus nebula, mirabiSc diciu ! Per medios, mUcetquc viris ; m-que ceniitur ulli. strange (n tell ! he min;;l<"d ^vith flic crowds, And past unseen, involv'd ia mantling clouds. Pur. There was a king, wliose name was Alfa- rutc; feared by all his neighbours, and loved by all his subjects; he was wise, good, just, valiant, and deficient in no quality requisite in a great prince. A fairy came to him one day, and told him that he would soon find himself plunged into great difficulties, if he did not make use of the ring which she then put on his finger. When he turned the stone of the ring to tlie inside of his hand, lie became invisible ; and when he turned the diamond outward, he became visible again. He was mightily pleased vritli this present, and soon grew sensible of the inestima])le value of it. AMicn he suspected any one of his sub- jects, he went into that m.an's house and closet, witli his diamond turned inward, and heard and saw all the secrets of the family, without being perceived. When he mistrusted the designs of 56 THE GLEANER* NO. 8. any neighbouring potentate, he would take a long journey unaccompanied, to be present in his most private councils, and learn every thing, without the fear of being discovered. By this means, he easily prevented every intention to his prejudice; he frustrated several conspiracies formed against his person, and disconcerted all the measures of his enemies for his overthrow. Nevertheless, he was not tlioroughly satisfied with this ring ; and he requested of the fairy the power of conveying himself from one coun^ try to anotlicr, that he might make a more convenient and ready use of the enchanted ring. The fairy replied, " You ask too much; let me conjure you not to covet a power, which I foresee will one day be the cause of your mi- sery ; though tlie particular maimer thereof be concealed from me." The king would not listen to her entreaties, but still urged his request. " Since then you will have it so (said she), I must necessarily grant you a favour, of which you will dearly repent." Hereupon, she chafed his should- ers with a fragrant liquor ; when immediately he perceived little wings shooting at his back. These little wings were not discernible under his habit ; and when he had a mind to ily, he needed only to touch them with his hand, and they would spread so as to bear him through XO. 8. THE GLEANER. 5f the air swifter than an eagle. When he had no further occasion for his wings, with a touch they shrunk again to so small a size, as to lie con- cealed under his garment. By this magic, Alfarute was able to translate himself, in a few moments, wherever he pleased. He knew every thing ; and no man could con- ceive how he came by his intelligence : for he would often retire into his closet, and pretend to be shut up there the whole day, with strict orders not to be disturbed; then making him- self invisible with his ring, he would enlarge his wings with a touch, and traverse vast countries. By this power, he entered into very extraordi- nary wars, and never failed to triumph. But, as he continually saw the secrets of men, he dis- covered so much wickedness and dissimulation, that he could no longer place confidence in any man. The more redoubted and powerful he grew, the less he W'as beloved ; and he found that even they to whom he had been most bountiful, had no gratitude nor affection toward him. In this disconsolate condition, he resolved to search through the wade world, till he found a woman complete in beauty and all good quali- ties, willing to be his wife ; one w^ho should love him, and study to make him happy. Long 58 THE GLEANER. NO. 8"; did he search in vain : and as he saw all with^ out being seen, he discovered the most hidden wiles and failings of the sex. He visited all the courts ; where he found the ladies insincere, fond of admirers ; and so enamoured with their own persons, that their hearts were not capable of entertaining any true love for a husband* He went likewise into all the private families : be found one was of an inconstant volatile dis- position ; another was cunning and artful ; a third, haughty; a fourth, capricious; almost all faithless, vain, and full of idolatry to their own. charms* Under these disappointments, he resolved to carry his inquiry tlirough the lowest conditions of life. Whereupon, at last he found the daugh- ter of a poor labourer, fair as the brightest morning, but simple and ingenuous ; her beauty she disregarded; and which, in real- ity, was the least of her perfections ; for she had an understanding and a virtue which out- shone all the graces of her person. All the youth of the neighbourhood were impatient to see her; and more impatient, after tlicy had seen her, to obtain her in marriage; none doubting of being completely haj)])y witli such a wife. King Alfarute bclield her, and he loved her. He demanded her of the father, who was trans- >'0. 8. THE GLEANER. 59 ported with the thought of his daughter becom- ing a great queen. Clarinda (so was she call- ed) wxnt from her father's hut into a magnifi- cent palace, where she was received by a nu- merous court. She was not dazzled nor discon- certed at the sudden change : she preserved her simplicity, her modesty, her virtue ; and forgot not the place of her birth when she w^as in the height of her glory. The king's affections for her increased daily ; and he believed he should at last arrive at perfect happiness ; neither w^as he already far from it, so much did he begin to confide in the goodness of his queen. He often rendered himself invisible to observe her, and to surprise her; but he never discovered any thing in her that was not w^orthy of his admiration : so that now there was but a very small re- mainder of jealousy and distrust blended with his love. The fairy, who had foretold t?ie fatal conse- quences of his last request, came so often tCt warn him, that he thought her importunity trou- blesome ; therefore he gave orders that she should no longer be admitted into the palace, and enjoined the queen not to receive her visits for the future. The queen promised to obey his commands, but not without much imwilling- iiess, because she loved this good fairy. 60 THE GLEANER. NO. 8. It happened one day, when the king was upon a progress, that the fairy, desirous to in- struct the queen in futurity, entered her apart- ment in the appearance of a young officer, and immediately declared in a whisper who she was, whereupon the queen embraced her with ten- derness. The king, who was then invisible, per- ceived it, and was instantly fired with jealpusy. He drew his sword and pierced the queen, who fell expiring into his arms. In that moment the fairy resumed her true shape ; whereupon the king knew her, and was convinced of the queen's innocence : then would he have killed himself, but the fairy withheld his hand, and strove to comfort him: when the queen, breath- ing out her last words, said, " Though I die by your hand, I die wholly yours.'* Too late, now Alfarutc cursed his folly, that put him upon wresting a boon from the fairy, which pro\Td his misery. He returned the ring, and desired his wings might be taken from him. The remaining days of his life he passed in bitterness and gi'ief, knowing no other consolation but to weep per- petually over Clarinda's tomb. FnEE-TniNKEn, No. SI, Jan. 9, ITlfi. NO. 9. THE GLEANER. 61 No. IX. Potcntiae paucorum decus alqiic libertatem suam g ra- tificaii. Sallust, They sacrificed virtue and their liberty at the shrine of rank and power. I SHALL entertain the public this day with a short account of the civilities and ceremonies of politeness in use amongst the Romans ; leaving to my readers the satisfaction of running the pa- rallel between the modern customs, and those which were fashionable at so great an interval of time ; as likewi^ the pleasure of observing, how like one wealthy luxurious nation is to ano- ther, notwithstanding the distance of ages and climates. The great men, who, in the infancy of Home, were no otherwise distinguished from the lesser people, than as they owned them for their pro- tectors, and who were respected by them only from a principle of gratitude, towards the de- clension of the republic, became lords over a multitude of voluntary slaves, consisting of ava- ricious citizens and self-interested clients. At which time the servility of the dependents, and ^2 THE GLEANEiR. i^O. 9* the liaiightiness of the patrons, conspired to carry ceremony to a great excess. The man who purposed to make his court ef- fectually, was obliged to go every morning to the levees of those persons of distinction whom he pitched upon for his patrons. The citizen, and often the magistrate himself, went about from door to door to pay his morning compli- ments to a great man ; who in his turn went out to tender the same homage to another, greater than himself. In bidding good-morrow, the usual gesture was to lay the hand upon the mouth, in advancing towards the person they saluted : in which manner too they paid their adoration to the gods; but with this difference, that it was not necessary to be uncovered to the deities, whereas tlie grandees expected you should stand always bare-headed before them. It was likewise a mark of respect to kiss the hand of him you waited on. The military men performed their salute by bowing their weapons, when they were armed. But it does not appear that the usual salutation was accompanied with any inclination of the body, or bending of tlic knee : these kind.s of submission were not intro- duced till long after tlic overthrow of the com- monwealth. Those who were levee-hunters, went always NO. 9. THE GLEAI7ER* 63 dressed out in their habit of ceremony, which was a white garment. The porch (which an- swers to our hall) was the place where the cli- ents interchanged civilities one with another^ till the patron was in the humour to be seen, or till they received notice that his honour had made his escape from their compliments at a back-door*. But if this man of importance thought it proper to give them fair play, and go out at his porch in a public manner, his court of clients pressed about his chair. Some signa- lized their zeal in keeping off the crowd ; others distinguished themselves by endeavouring to get as near as possible to his person, as well to see him, as to be seen by him. Generally speaking, an inferior failed not to stand up, when a great man came into the places of public assembly ; to remain uncovered in his presence, and to place him in the middle ; to give him the right- hand in walking witli him ; to stop short, if he. happened to pass by ; to leave him a free pas- sage, and the rising part of the pavement, if he chanced to meet him in the street. In paying a visit, the visitor was obliged t-o notify himself by a set form ; after which he was admitted into the apartment by an officer, in the nature of an introductor. Neither was any one exempt from this formality, but by the free- 64 THE GLEANER. NO. 9. dom of a great familiarity, or by the privilege of certain public days, such as the first of Janu- ary, or the birth-day of the patron ; for then he gave himself up to receive the compliments of i|^ that came. Their feasts and entertainments had likewise their settled laws and regulations, "irhich are sufficiently known, and would be too tedious to enumerate. When any one had the honour of treating a grandee, the choice of the guests was always left to him ; and they were invited by the host, in his name. On the other liand, if you were invited to his table, you came in your habit of ceremony. The rule of civility consisted, not in offering to take the lowest place, but in going to tlie scat allotted fdr you by the master of the house. There was a carver always to cut up the dishes, and to help the guests, which was often performed to tlie sound of instruments. There was no coming at employments, but by the suffrages of the people; which made the ambitious great men very affable. They who stood for places, were obliged to caress the meanest citizen. The candidates, when tlicy had first received with smiles all who came to compliment them in tlic morning, went througli the city to canvass votes, dressed in white, and attended by their relations, their friends, and XO. 9. THE CLEANER. 65 their clients. The principal magistrates who in- terested themselves for a candidate, went his rounds with him, and recommended him to the people ; while he (with a prompter at his elbow) saluted every one by his name, and embraced those he happened to meet in his walks. In the public places of rendezvous, the citizens practised upon each other the civility of embrac- ing and kissing ; and generally meant as little as we do by those cordialities. This method of ca- ressing, which was the ordinary manner of saluta- tion, grewtobesuch a nuisance, through the num- ber of unsavoury hearty fellows who disgusted the fine gentlemen with a close hug, that Tibe- rius was at last obliged, in defence of the beaux, to abolish it by an edict: but in all probability it was not long observed, since Martial com- plains of this polite grievance. Notwithstanding what has been said, I must observe, to the honour of the Romans, that they gave tlic same respect to age as they paid to quality, and never refused a due reverence to grey hairs. Their modesty likev* ise with regard to their nearest relations was so great, that a fatlier, or father-in-law, was never seen to bathe with a son, or a son-in-law. From this general viev/ of the civilities and ceremonies practised in a very poprJous city, VOL. I. F 66 THE GLEANER. NO. 9. near two thousand years ago, my readers will see, that if a degenerate polite Roman were to rise and appear in London, his behaviour would, not seem awkward to us; and that he might, without inquiring into our customs, either get a place at court, or make as good an interest to serve in })arliament for London or Westminster, as any of the present representatives. AVhat 1 have to observe farther to my worthy country- men (as a moral to the whole) is, that this brave people, who, while they preserved their home- bred simplicity, giwc laws to mankind, did not long maintain their greatness, their virtue, nor their liberties, after they became so excessively complaisant and well-bred. Frek-Thinkeb, No. 25, June 16, 1718. NO. 10. THE GLEANER. 67 No. X. Pasces in cruce corvos. HORAT. You expose His carcase as a food for crows. I HAVE as just a veneration as any man living for the laws of my native country : they are generous, mild, and gentle, built on equal foundations of justice and mercy; and, to say all in a word, they are such as every freeman would wish to be governed by. I am so far from denying thqm the reverence they deserve, that I have always read with pleasure the most elaborate and strained encomiums, with which the gentlemen of the robe fill their writings on this subject. But since it is the most desirable, among all the advantages of liberty, to think and speak freely ; it cannot, I hope, be offensive, if I declare myself not well satisfied with any argu- ments I have yet heard in defence of capital punishment for certain crimes, which are low and frequent, and which carry, mcthinks, r.o proportion, in comparison with others of a much blacker complexion ; to which, notwith- F 2 6s THE GLEANER. NO. 10. standing, they seem paralleled by the equality of their sentence. The life of a man is so iniinitcly of more value than his beast or his moveable, that whenever I see the sufferings of pinched and hunger-starved wretches under the agonies of an execution, for having robbed perhaps to avoid famishing ; I find myself oppressed by a grief, which nothing mitigates but this reflection that their lives were exposed to such extremi- ties of want and misery, that their death should be a comfort. And yet, the long-protracted gazings, the paleness, the tremblings, and the ghastly distorted faces, of the poor departing 5?trugglers (who die with strong reluctance, and linger and lengthen out their last painful mo- ment), make it evident to the beholders, that, unfriendly as tlie world was to them, they are not willing to forsake it. I am convinced that if it vrcre possible to see, on some such plain as that of Salisbury, under one assembled pros])cct, the whole number of men and women who have been executed for theft only, in all the counties of this kingdom, within the memory of any person of but a moderate advance in years ; such a dreadful demonstration of the waste which is made by tliis swee[) of the sword of justice, would be a NO. 10. THE GLEANER. 69 startling inducement to those, whose pnnlnce it is known to be to weigh with pity and dch- beration, whetlier punishments more adequate, and more poHtic too, tliaii death, might not easily be appropriated to a number of petty crimes, which ever were, and e\"i3r must be, unavoidably frequent in all peopled places; being tlie necessary consequences, either of the wants, or tlic depravity, of the lowest part of the human species. One evening, very lately, all my neighbour- hood, in Barbican, were in an uproar on a sudden ; and 1 was disturbed in my meditations by the shrieking of a woman, the mixed cries of children, and a growing hum of concourse, that seemed close under my window. ;1 threw aside my pipe, and hastening to look out, saw- the street entirely filled by a group of dismal faces, that had gathered themschvcs into a tunuilt about a house directly opposite, and appeared to be touched, as strongly as common natures are capable, w^itli a mixture of surprise and sorrow. It seems, the hush-and of a laborious poor creature, who was n^iistress of this house, had been condemned at the county assizes, in one of the late circuits, for stealing a horse; and a letter had just now been deiixercd to 70 THE GLEANER. NO. 10. his wife, which the criminal himself had written the very morning he was executed. His relations and acquaintance had depended on a reprieve ; for the man was imiversally beloved among his neighbours ; and, though always very poor, and unfortunate in his dealings, had been remarkable for his industry, of a sober disposition, and never known before to have been guilty of the least dishonesty. He had six children alive, and the eldest but eight years old. His mother, who lived in the same little house, had been disabled by sickness for several months past : so that, perceiving it be- yond his power to subsist his family any longer, and not daring to stay in town by reason of some debts he had contracted, he went down to try his friends, who lived in good circum- stances in the country. But, instead of meet- ing with assistance, he only spent in this journey all the little he had carried with him ; and not being able to support the thoughts of returning without bread to a family in such want of it, he rode away with a horse whicli he found tied to a gate ; and being pursued and over- taken, was tried, condemned, and hanged for it. This history was loudly gi\en me by the good NO. 10. THE GLEANER. 71 women in the street ; after which, I Imd the curiosity to press in among the crowd; and was struck at my first entrance by the most moving scene of sorrow that I ever remember to have met with. The widow liad broken open her husband's letter, in transport, concluding that it brought her the confirmation of a reprieve, which a former had given her liopes of But slie was so shocked and overwhelmed by the sud- den reverse of passion, that her grief was a kind of madness. She sat on the floor without headclothes, and had an infant cross her knees, that was cry- ing with great impatience for the breast it had been thrown from. Another slept in the cradle, close by a little bed, in which the grandmother sat weeping, bending forward in strong agony, and wrinffins; her hands in silence. The four eldest children were gathered into a knot, and clung about the neck of their miserable mother, stamping, screaming, and kissing her, in a storm of distracted tenderness! The poor woman herself was in a condition past describing! She pressed the letter of her dead husband to her eyes! her lips! her bosom! She ra^-ed, and talked, and questioned him as if he had been present! And, at every little interval, dried her tears with his letter ; and cast a look up(m the company, so wild, and so full of horror. 72 THE GLEANER. NO. 10. that it cannot be conceived but by those who were witnesses of it. As soon as she saw me there, she stretched out her hand, and made signs that I should read the letter ; which I received from her accordingly ; and going back to my lodging, w ith a resolution to send over some fitter person than myself to assist in the distresses of so disconsolate a family, I sat down and took a copy of it, because it moved me exceedingly. " Dear loving Betty, *' It is now nine o'clock ; and I nuist be fetched out by and by, and go to die before eleven. I shall see my poor Bchs no more in this world ; but, if we meet one anotlier again in the next, as I hope in God vrc shall, we may never part afterwards. I^Iethinks, if 1 could but only once more look upon my good Betty before I die, though it should be but for a minute, and say a kind word to my fiitherlcss children, that must starve now it" Ciod do not take care for them, I should go away with a good heart. And yet sometimes I fancy it is better as it is, for it would !)e sad to die aiier- wards; and I fear it would make me 1aiiitheart(Ml, and I should be wishing that 1 miglit ]i\c to get you bread and clotlies for your precious NO. 10. THE GLEANER. 7.S bodies. Sarah Taylor made my lieart ache, when she told me that you had pawned away every thing, to make up that last fifty shillings that you sent me by Will Sanderson, who is now in the room with me, and sits down upon the straw that I laid on last night, and is weeping for me like a child. But God will make up all the money to you again, that you have let me have to no purpose. And I should be sorry that any unkind body should hit it in your teeth that I come to such an untimely bad end; for I thought as little of it as they do. But all the way as I v/alkcd up to London afoot, I could not help having a fancy in my head at every turn, that I savv'' my poor dear Betty, and my six helpless little ones hanging upon me, and crying out bitterly that they had no bread to keep life in them, and begging me to buy them some ; and so I thought that I would sell tliat horse, and make you believe that I got money of your sister Parker ; but she was too sparing for that, and would never once look upA:)n me. I pray to God to forgive her; and ir sjie woiild but be good to you when I am gone, God bless her. Loving Betty, remember inc to my sorrownd mother, and tell her not to t;ike on too mucii. And bid Richard and Harry lake warning by my fall, if ever they come to 74 THE GLEANER. NO. 10. be men : and for the poor girls, they are too young as 3^et to understand any thing you can say to them. God's goodness be your comfort! and if you can, don't think about me, for it will make you only melancholy. I hope the old deputy will be kind to you, and help you to do somewhat. I am sorry I cannot write no more, because my tears are come into my eyes. Little did I think of this dismal parting Oh ! 'tis very sad! God bless you in this unhappy world, dear dear Betty. " From your unfortunate, " dying husband, " R. S. " P. S. Nothing vexes me but wlicn I think that it is a very hard case for a man to be made to die for a horse: they say the king is to have him ; he is not worth much ; but if my poor Betty had the money he could be sold for, it would be some comfort however ; for then I should not have left you all so bare as you be now." I carried this letter with me to the assembly: where it was universally agreed, that there is a plain-hearted honesty very manifest in all parts of it; and a ;:^cnerous and manly sorrow, not arising so much from his own desire to live, KO. 10. THE GLEANER. 75 as from a prospect of their wants whom his death was to leave destitute. Our clergyman in particular was greatly moved to compassion, and proposed a charitable collection to be sent to the poor widow, to which himself contri- buted first in a very liberal proportion. He related to us afterwards an extraordinary dying speech, of a very different turn, which he heard made, when a student, by a house- breaker, who was hanged for murder and a robbery. " Good people (said the criminal), since I am to serve you for a sight, the least you can do is to be civil to the man that entertains you. I ask nothing of you but the justice that is due to me. There are some meddhng tongues, which I can hear among the crowd, very busy to incense vou. Thouo-h it is true I have com- mitted murder, yet I hope I am no murderer. The felony I really purposed, but my intention had no part in the death that I was guilty of. The deceased cryed for help, and was so obstinate and clamorous, that I was under tlie necessity to kill him, or submit myself to be taken. And thus I argued in my mind : if I murder him, I shall get oflt"; or, at worst, if I am taken, my punishment will be no greater, than if I spare him, and surrender : I can be 76 THE GLEANER. NO. W, but hanged for murder, and I must be hanged too for the house-breaking. This thought, good peo- ple, prevailed with me to shoot him ; so that wliat you call murder, was but self-preservation. Now, that I should have died in this same manner, whether I had shot him or no, witness tliese two weak brothers here, who look as if they were already at the other end of their voyage, though they have not hoisted sail yet: one of these stole some bacon, and the other, a wet smock or two. The law must be certainly wiser than you are ; and since that has been })leased to set our crimes on a level, be so civil, or com- passionate, as to hold your silly tongues, and let me die without slander." We had several other stories on this subject of the public executions : but none pleased me better than one, which I shall close my paper with, and which we were also obliged to the vicar for. " The late kins: of Sweden had condemned a soldier to die; and stood at a little distance from the place of execution. 'J'hc fellow, when he heard tliis, was in hopes of a pardon; but being assured he was mistaken, cried, his tongue was yet free, he would use it at Ins pleasure ; which he did with great licence; accusing tiie king, most insolently, and as loud as he could KO. lO. THE GLEANER. 77 speak, of barbarity and injustice ; and appealing to God for revenge of his wronged innocence. The king, not hearing him distinctly, inquired of those about him, what tlic soldier had been saying? and was told, by a general officer, who was unwilling to heighten his resentment against the miserable, that he had only repeated very often and loud, That God loves the merciful, and teaches the mighty to moderate their anger. The king was touched by tlie lesson, and sent his pardon to the criminal. But a courtier, of an opposite interest, took advantage of the oc- casion, and repeated to the king exactly the licentiousness of the fellow's raiHng ; adding gravely when he had done. That men of quality and trust ouglit never, in his opinion, to mis- represent facts to their sovereign. The king for some time stood suspended in his thoughts; but turning at length toward the courtier, with a fiice of reproof; *' It is the first time (said he) that ever I have been betrayed for my advantage! But the LIE of your enemy pleased me better tlian your truth does.'* Plain. Dealer, No. 1, May 12, 1724. The subject of this paper (the frequency of capital punish- /nent as appointed by hiw) has very lately attracted the at- Ttntion of the House of Coiiin.ous, in consequence of the n)utioii of Sir Samuel RomiJly for the repeal of the Acts of 78 THE GLEANER. NO. 10. 10 ct II Will. III. 12 Anne, and 24 Geo. IT. which make the crimes of stealing privately in a shop, goods of the value of five shillings; or in a dwelling house, or on board a vessel in a navif^able river, property of the value of forty shillings- capital felonies. The speech of Sir Samuel Romilly on this occasion, and the pamphlet which he has since published, intitled, " Obser- vations on the Criminal Law of England," cannot, either for their eloquence, their ai-gument, or their tendency, be too highly praised or valued. It is evident from the statement of Sir Samuel, that although the penal part of these statutes cannot, in the present state of society in this country, be carried into exe- cution, yet are they still productive of very serious mischief; and that, of course, their repeal would confer a signal benefit on the jurisprudence of our island. The ingenuity, the ability, and judgment which distinguish the " Observations" of Sir Samuel, are such, that I am tempted to quote a fevv paragraphs in aid of the impression which the paper of Mr. Hill is calculated to afford. *' There is, probably, no other country in the world in^\hich so many and so great a variety of human actions are punishable with loss of life, as in England. These sanguinary statutes, however, are not carried into execution. For some time past, the sentence of death has not been executed on more than a sixth part of all the persons on whom it has been pronounced; even taking into the calculation crimes the most atrocious and the most dangerous to Hociet}'-, murders, rapes, burning of houses, coining, forgeries, and attempts to commit murder. If we exclude these from our consideration, we sliall find that the proportion which the number executed bears to those convicted, is, perhaps, as one to twenty ; and if we proceed still farther, and, laying out of the account burglaries, high- way robberies, horse-stealing, sheep-stealing, and returning from transportation, confine our observations to those larcenies unaccompanied with any circumstance of aggravation, for which a capital punishment is appointed by law, such as steal- ing privately in shops, and stealing in dwelling-houses, and on NO. 10. THE gleaneh. 79 board ships, property of the value mentioned in the statutes, we shall find the proportion of those executed, reduced very far indeed below that even of one to twenty. *' This mode of administering justice is supposed by some persons to be a regular, matured, and well-digested system. They inmgine, that the state of things which we see existing is exactly that which was originally intended ; that laws have been enacted which were never meant to be regularly en- forced, but were to sttmd as objects of terror in our statute- book, and to be calletl into action only occasionally, and under extraordinary circumstances, at the discretion of the judges. " Whether the practice which now prevails be right or wrong, whether beneficial or injurious to the community, it is certain that it is the effect, not of design, but of that change which has slowly taken place in the manners and character of the nation, which are now so repugnant to the spirit of these laws, that it has become impossible to carry them into execu- tion, " Even the Act of Queen Elizabeth, which made it a capital oftence for any person above the age of fourteen to be found associating for a month with persons calling themselvc? Egyptians, the most barbarous statute perhaps that ever dis- graced our criminal code, was executed down to the reign of King Charles the First; and Lord Hale mentions thirteen persons having in his time been executed upon it at o;ie assizes. It is only in modern times that this relaxation of the law has taken place, and only in the course of the present reign that it has taken place to a considerable degree. It appears that, even at the commencement of the present reign, the number of convicts executed exceeded the number of those who were pardoned ; but, that at the present time, the number pardoned exceeds, nearly in the proportion of eight to one, the number of those who are executed." After these observations on the present method of adminis- tering the laws of England, the author gives us the foJIowing admirable passage : " Although the severe la^vs of Williara and of Anne are 80 THE GLEANER. NO. 10. not now executed, and may be said, therefore, to e::j,etlier with the suf- ferings of the great instructors of mankind, vvho (from his days to our time) have been martyrs in the cause of truth. FuEE.TirrNKER, No. 158, Sept. 25, 1719. Tlie allegorical pictiu^.s delineated in these papers are co- loured with considerable warmth and spirit. It may be re- 172 THE GLEANER. NO. 22. marked, however, that the figures ofHomer and Virgil, which possess several characteristic touches in accordance with the general opinion of criticism, are, nevertheless, inferior to the succeeding sketches of Pope, who, in his Temple of Fame, hav- ing placed these masters of the Epopea on lofty columns, thus gives us, in bold relief, their attitudes and attributes : High on the first the mighty Homer shone; Eternal adamant compos'd his throne j Father of verse! in holy fillets drest, His silver beard wav'd gently o'er his breast. Tho' blind, a boldness in his looks appears ; In years he seem'd, though not impair'd by years. The wars of Troy were round the pillar seen : Here fierce Tydides wounds the Cyprian Queen; Here Hector, glorious from Patroclus' fall ; Here dragg'd in triumph round the Trojan wall. Motion and life did every part inspire, Bold was the work, and prov'd the master's fire : A strong expression most he seem'd t' affect, And here and there disclos'd a brave neglect. A golden column next in rank appeared. On which a shrine of purest gold was rear'd; P'inish'd the whole, and labour'd rv'ry part, AVith patient touches of unweary'd art: The Mantuan there in sober triumph sate. Compos'd his po?ture, and his looks sedate: On Homer still he fix'd a rev'rend eye, Great without pride, in modest majesty. In living sculpture on the sides were spread The Latian wars, and haui^hty Turnus dead ; Eliza stretch'd upon the fun'ral pyre; Apneas bending with b\> aged sire. Troy flam'd in burning gold ; and o'er the throne, *' .Arms and the Man" in golden cyphers shone. NO. 23. THE GLEANER. 173 No. XXIII. Cinis, et mane?, et fabula fies, Persius. A name, a shade, alas ! thy lot shall be, \iid (lust and ashes all (hat's left of thee. Ever since I was a school-boy, I have been fond of walking in Westminster-abbey, where, when my heart is heated by the violence of some unruly passion, I enjoy a cool composure, and a kind of venerable refreshment. Its dusky cloisters, majestic ailes, quire, organs, royal tombs, and reverend variety of strong, impressive images, have a never-failing power to reduce my mind from transport, when hope, prosperity, or pleasure, have betrayed it into vanity ; or to relieve it, wli^n disordered by a weight of anguish or oppression. " Death and the sun (says a French writer) are two things not to be looked upon with a s^teady eye." Though there is something in his obser\atiori rather pretty than just, yet so far is certainly true, that we are unqualified to think serenely on our dissolution, w^hile we are sur- njuuded by the noise and hurry of the world, 174 THE GLEANER. NO. 23. in its ambitions scenes ; or softened into sensnal wishes, by tlie languor of an idle solitude. AVliile we are part of our own prospect, we can never view it justly : but, in such a situation as the abbey, we are placed as it were out of our- selves, and, from this ancient stand of death, look back upon a country which we seem no longer to have any concern in; and which, there- fore, we can judge of with the necessary clearness and impartiality. The mind that is steadfast enough to meditate calmly on death, will be armed to resist the strength and the flattery of human passions : such thoughts, if they make us not better, will at least make us wiser ; since that must moderate our wishes, which puts us out of countenance at their levity ; and who can reflect without being ashamed, that while every thing in life is acci- dental, and death the only certainty ; we go on to act notwithstanding, as if all things else were infallible, and death but accidental. I sometimes suffer myself to be shut up for five or six hours among the tombs, where I sit down, without ceremony or appreliension, among the proudest of those princes, who were once too stately to be conversed with, ])ut at a distance, and with fear and re\'erencc. I possess, in common with the sj)iders (their companions XO. 23. THE GLEANER. 175 and most constant servants, who spread net- work over their trophies), the unenvied privilege of surrounding those last beds of forgotten majesty. Here I bury myself in solemn silence, and imprint my imagination with images which awaken thought, and prepare me for humility : the stained and melancholy light that entei's faintly through the painted windows, as if it wore a decent mourning, to become the scene it opens to me, guides me slowly, by the clois- tered alleys, dusty tombs, and weeping statues, till I am lost in that still pomp of figured sorrow which on every side incloses me. From finish'd prayer the nock disperse apace, And each glad foot forsakes the dreary place : The hooded prebend plods along before, And the last verger claps the ringing door. Then, thoughtful, lingering, curious, and alone, In the dark temple, when the rest are gone. No noise invades my ear, no murm'ring breath. Not one low whisper in the hall of death ; No trampling sound swims o'er the silent floor. But the slow clock that counts the sliding hour. Here, indulging contemplation, I forget my cares and misfortunes, and disencumber myself from the forms and embarrassments of converse. I become the inhabitant of a quiet and unbusy w^orld, where all is serene and peaceful : I am 176 THE GLEANER. NO. 2S. disturbed by no fears, inflamed by no anger, inspired by no hope, tormented by no jealousy; I can expect witliout impatience, and be disap- pointed without aflliction. The dust which is scattered round mc, and which once was living flesh as I am, chokes the fountains of my pride, and produces in me a mortification that is too strong for all my passions. I was present very lately, when one of those monumental historians, whose employment it is to draw a profit from reading lectures on these resting-places of our ancient princes, was shew- ing the tomb of Henry the fifth to a circle of holiday strollers. After having informed the tasteless wonderers, that this was he who con- quered France ; that his son was crowned in Paris ; that he married the French king's daugh- ter ; and what else he had been able to collect from the records of this great prince's reign ; he pointed to a plain, wooden, worm-eaten coffin, that was placed upon the ground by this tomb's side, and told them that it contained the body of Queen Catharine, the beautiful wife of this triumphant Henry : adding, that for a small additional contribution, he would unlock the coffin, and let them look in upon her corpse, which lay there perfect and undecayed, though she had been dead almost three hundred years. NO. 23. THE GLEANER. 177 They had curiosity enough to pay the price demanded, and the proposer made good his promise, unveiling to the sight and touch the reh'ques of that royal charmer. I cannot express the indignation and concern which this scene gave me. Her lovely limbs (which once were thought too tender for the wind to blow upon, and which were never seen without joy, reverence, and wonder, by the conqueror of her father's kingdom, and the sovereign of this in which she died) now lay neglected and exposed, denied even earth to cover her, and made a spectacle for the enter- tainment of a crowd of common wanderers! Superior as this lady was in beauty, birth, and fortune, what pre-eminence in death have all these given her above tlie meanest and most unlovely ? After having made her life a change- ful course of sorrow and calamity, they left her destitute in death, without the decency of a grave to shelter her ! There now she lies, a proof of transitory greatness ; to comfort the wretched with tliis reflection, when they look in upon her exposed remains that nature has made no difference between a royal and a vulgar body ; but that, taking away what was added by fortune, each, from the moment of death, is the other's equal to eternity! VOL. I. N 173 THE GLEANER. NO. 23. What rank or condition is then among us, which may not draw, from this great school of moral reasoning, some observation for their benefit ? Even the unwary and extravagant, whose lives are a continued luxury, and to whom the miseries of debt appear remote and without terror ; even they may find a lesson among these tombs ; for there tliey may be shewn the bodies of great men, doing penance in their velvet cofiins, and imprisoned after death, to Satisfy the malice of their stubborn creditors ; as if the influence of sordid money could extend its cruelties beyond life, and had a privilege to disturb, by avarice, the sleeping ashes of departed sovereigns ! Is a man insulted, wronged, betrayed? does he hate his distrusted enemy ? are his thoughts employed on revenge? and does he break his sleep with stratagems to avoid, or retaliate, the injustice that may be done him ? Let him walk with me in this instructive circle, and I will shew him the dust of a murdered monarch, mixing quietly with his who murdered him. I will tread with him over earth that is passive and ferments not, though composed of united atoms from the mingled bodies of those men, whose battling interests and afiections, while they lived, shook the kingdom like an earthquake 1 When NO. 28. TttE GtfiAl^fitt. 173 the quarfelsome consider tliis, they ought td blush at their little hatreds, arid grow ashatfted to let their souls be divided by atliiflosity, Whfert death may crumble their bodies together, and incorporate them with their most malicious enemy ! There is no fortune so exalted, but it may find a check in this dark mansion ; nor any condition so dejected, but that it may be sure of a comfort: every stone that we look upon, in this repository of past ages, is an entertainment and a moni- tor. I never leave its venerable gloom, without finding my mind cooler and more composed than when I entered. I cink deep into myself, and see my heart without disguise, in its good or evil propensities ; and I gather power from these strong impressions to resist pleasure, pride, ambition, or low avarice ; and to fortify the im- pulses of humility, forgiveness, charity, and the virtues of content and quietude. There was published, a few years since, a poem called " Westminster Abbey." I am sorry the author's name v/as not printed with it. There is something highly elevated in his genius, that is sweetly serious, and sublimely melan- choly. The verses inserted above I am in- debted for to that poem ; and I shall borrow from the same piece these following, which, I will N 2 1 80 THE GLEANER. NO. 23. take the liberty to affirm, are as fine ones as were ever written. I ask pardon for a transpo- sition, and alteration or two, which I have only made, that I might have the pleasure of col- lecting into one view as many of the beauties as could possibly be drawn together in the narrow compass of my paper. Lead on, my Muse ! while, trembling, I essay To trace thy footsteps through the cloister'd way : Throw a thick veil around thy radiant head. And lead me through the dwellings of the dead; Where the still banner, faded and decay'd, Nods pendant o'er its mouldring master's head ; Where loves, transform'd to marble angels, moan ; And weeping cherubs seem to sob in stone. Seize Time, and by the pinions, urge his stay; Stop him a while in his eternal way ; Bid him recline his scythe on each pale tomb, And name the tenant of the darksome room. O Muse ! with care the blended dust explore, And re-inspire and wake the sleeping floor. To mount their throne, here monarchs bend their way O'er pavements where their predecessors lay. Ye sons of empire! who, in pompous hour. Attend to wear the cumbrous robe of power; When ye proceed along the shouting way, Think there's a second visit still to pay; And when in state on buried kings you tread. And swelling robes sweep o'er th' imperial dead, W^hile like a god your worship'd eyes move round, Think tlien, O ! think you walk on treach'rous ground; NO. 23. THE GLEANER. 181 Though firm the chequer'd pavement seems to be. Twill surely open and give way for thee ! While crowding lords address their duties near, Th' anointing prelate, and the kneeling peer, While with obsequious diligence they bow. And spread the careful honours o'er thy brow ; While the high-raised spectators shout around. And the long ailes and vaulted roofs resound ; Then snatch a sudden thought, and turn thy head From the loud living to the silent dead. With conscious eye the neighb'ring tombs survey ; These will instruct thee better far than they : What now thou art, in yon gay homage see ; But these best shew what thou art sure to be ! I am ignorant what reception this excellent performance met with in the world ; but, I hope, for the honour of my country, that it was not a bad one. The whole poem is full of beauties ; but if it had no other merit than appears in what I have copied from it, every candid judge of poetry must allow it to have deserved the highest applause and admiration. Plain-Dealer, No. 42, Aug. 14, 1724. Though this paper has no small share of merit, and seems principally to have been written with a view of recommend- ing the verses introduced; yet must it be considered as a daring attempt, when we recollect the twenty-sixth number of the Spectator, by Addison, to wliich not only this, but probably every other essay on the subject, will be deemed inferior. Tlie paragraph commencing with " Let him walk 1^2 T GLEANER. IIO. 2Si with me in this instructive circle," is a copy of the admirable close of Addison's reflectiorxs, which never c*n be too often reprinted: " When I look upon the tombs of the great (says this exquisite writer), every emotion of envy dies in me; when I read the epitaphs of the beautiful, every inordinate desire goes out ; when I meet with the grief of parents upon a tomb-stone, my heart melts with compassion ; when I see the tomb of the parents themselves, I consider the vanity of grieving for those whom we must quickly follow. When I see kings lying by those who deposed them; when I consider rival wits placed side by side ; or the holy men that divided the vorld with their contests and disputes; I reflect with sorrow and tistonishraent on the little competitions, fections, and debates of mankind. WTien I read tlie several datss of the tombs, of some that died yesterday, and some six hundred years ago, I consider that great day when we shall all of us be contemporaries, and make our appearance together." Of the import of both these passages the Bard of Marmion has beautifully availed himself in his introduction to canto the first of that poem, when deploring the loss of the rival state*- nien, f itt and Tox : Here, where tlieend of earthly tilings Lays heroes, patriot?, bards and kings ; Where stiff the hand, and btill the tongue, Of those who fought, and ppoke, and sung : Here, wlitMe the fretted aile? prolong The distant notes of holy song, As if some angel spoke agen, " AH peace on earth, good-will to men ;"' If ever from an Engli-h heart, O ! here let jirejudice depart. Genius, and taste, and talent gone. For ever tombed beneath the stone, AVhere taming ho-ig'it to liimian pride' ! The mighty chiefs -leep side by side; Dn.p \ip(in F<,.\"s gr;.\e the tear, 'Twill trickle to . i^ iiva";"s !)ier ; OVr I'itt's the mournful requ-em sound, Aud Fox's shall tlie notes rebound : K6. 29. THE GLEANER. 1 88 The solemn echo seems to cry " Here let their discord with them die." I cannot here avoid remarking, that this introduction con- tains a very striking and poetical imitation of the pensive lines of Moschus on the death of his brother bard : To mute and to material things New life revolving Summer brings; The genial call dead natnre hears, And in her glory re-appears : But, Oh ! my country's wintry state What second spring shall renovate? What powerful call shall bid arise The buried warlike, and the wise; The mind that thought for Britain's weal. The hand that grasp'd the victor steel ? The vern.il sun new life bestows Even on the meanest flower that blows ; But vainly, yainly may he shine Where ilory weeps o'er Nelson's shrine; And vainly pierce the solemn gloom, That shrowds, O Pixr ! thy hallowM tomb. 184 THE GLEANER. NO. 24. No. XXIV. Malis Divulsus queremoniis Suprema citius solvet amor die. IIORAT. Unbroken by complaints or strife, Ev'n to the latest hours of life. Francis. There is no topic more common in conversa- tion, nor any subject more frequently treated of in writing, than the happiness and the unhappi- ness of marriage. It is by all confessed, that nothing can equal the felicity of the married state, when two persons, mutually loving and be- loved, give and receive all the engaging demon- strations of a reciprocal tenderness and good- nature ; nor is it, on the contrary, by the most strenuous advocates for matrimony, denied, that a life in wedlock, where the affections of the soul are never mutual, is of all miseries the greatest. Thus marriage is generally consi- dered in its extremes ; and they wlio defend it, or inveigh against it, seem not to allow of any medium : as for myself, though for many cir- cumstantial reasons I continue a bachelor, I am, and have always been of opinion, that tlicre NO. 24. THE GLEANER. 1 85 is no true enjoyment of life without marriage ; and I think the miseries which are attributed to that state, arise chiefly from imaginary causes, or from the want of a proper regulation of the passions. It is my belief, therefore, that those persons who, by being joined to any particular man or woman, become so very miserable, would not be much more happy was that obliga- tion dissolved, and they had their free choice to marry again. I am apprehensive that this sup- position may seem somewhat absurd, yet I have not advanced it without some kind of authority; for many are the widows and widowers, who, during their first marriage, vehemently ex- claimed against the miseries which attended it, yet have soon entered into a second, in which they have not been the least more sensible of felicity. I was led into these reflections, by musing on an argument which an old bachelor urged this evening in conversation against marriage in ge- neral : " That trite observation (says he), that had one priest the power and privilege to un- marry, it would be tlie best benefice in the kingdom, is to me a rational proof that all mar- riages are more or less unhappy ; nor do I be- lieve there are any two fools in the nation, who have been coupled a week, but would with much I S6 TttE GLEANKR. 1^0. 24i satisfaction and gladness of heart pay a visit to the doctor.** I then began to make some ot>. servations on his scheme ; but he was so di- verted with the jest of the uncoupling parson, and of the benefit he would be to mankind, that sts I could not be heard calmly, I reserved the subject for my own private contemplation. It was hence that the sentiments of the introduc- toiy paragraph occurred to me ; and as I was smiling at my old bachelor's unmarrying project, I began whimsically to entertain myself with a wild imagination of what a scene might be pro- duced, and what the consequences of it would be, if my friend's scheme could in reality be put in practice. V/hen the thoughts are intensely employed, and all the faculties of the soul con- fined to one point, fancy can present to our eyes such strong imaginary objects, as to have all the force of reality. By the aid of this ideal goddess, I was, methought, conveyed into some fields ad- jacent to a great metropolis, from M'hich great numbers of men and women, joined together in couples, seemed to hasten. .They all took one route towards a temple, which was erected in the middle of a spacious plain : though they all seemed to be fettered together like felons, and very uneasy at tlieir restraint, yet there appear- ed a visible joy in most of their countenances ; NO. 24. THE GLEANER. 18? and by the frequent eager looks they cast to- wards the temple, shewed that the object of their wishes was centred tliere. I could not contam my curiosity, but inquired of a grave single gentleman the meaning of such a proces- sion. '* I thought, sir (replied he), that you could not possibly be ignorant of so remarkable an occurrence, but was come, as well as myself and others, to make remarks, and see the issue of it : know then, as you have not been in- formed of it, that the gods, wearied with the complaints of unreasonable mortals, have granted their prayers, and have erected that dome, in which a high-priest attends six successive days, to unmarry whoever may come to him : this is the last day, and though the multitude is so very great, it does not exceed the numbers of the days preceding. As you are alone, if you will accept of me for a companion, I will perform the office of an interpreter, and explain some passages to you, which may be entertaining as well as instructive." I readily accepted his pro- posal, and he conducted me into the temple, and situated me in such a convenient place, that I could see and hear all that passed at the altar where the high-priest attended. The tem- ple was now near full, and the ceremonies began as soon as the first pair offered themseh^s to 188 THE GLEANER. NO. 24. have the gordian knot of matrimony unloosed. The whole form was short and expressive ; the dissolution of the banns of marriage were pub- lished; and as no one forbad the divorce, by assigning any reason that they should continue still married, the priest asked if they both as- sented to separation ; and on their answering in the affirmative, he turned the face of the man full north, and that of the woman full south ; then crying " Part for ever," they both march- ed off, with their divorce fully ratified. " There (cries my companion), there is a notable example of the vicissitude of the human passions : that pair which you just now saw divorced, married two years ago against the advice of their parents, for love alone : he, like a true knight-errant, scaled her chamber-window, carried away his distressed lady, and they were married at an in- famous place where such ceremonies are clan- destinely performed : after this, they lived like two turtles, ever cooing, and fondling, and playing Such a husband! such a wife! 'Twas Acme and Septimius' life." " \VTiat then, sir (replied I), could occasion so mutual a satisfaction in their being so soon separated?" " You shall soon see; but first let JfO. 24. THE GLEANER. 1 89 me observe to you, that your very violent lovers before marriage seldom prove very happy in it : they, indeed, for some time give an unbounded loose to their passions ; but as matrimonial love is founded on a more generous system than the mere gratification of our appetites, they find their desires pall: insensible of any other en- joyment than that of beauty, as that becomes familiar to them, they gradually sink into indif- ference, which soon ends in a thorough hatred. The foundation of such love at first is, in truth, nothing but vice; and the major part of this crowd of people, who come to be unmarried, are immediately married again to others ; so that they hate marriage only as a confinement to one person, and seem to covet a licentious polygamy. You see that couple, so lately separated, already provided for : the fond husband goes yonder, arm in arm, with his wife's chambermaid; while the fond wife marches oiFon tlie other side with a young officer in the army. The next pair which applied to have their banns dissolved, gave me much surprize : they were two ancient peo- ple, and as loaded with infirmities as they were stricken in years ; but notwithstanding their being weak and decrepid, they hobbled up to the priest with an alacrity which sliewed tliey put their best foot foremost. " What (cried I) 190 THE gleant:r. 1^0. 24* can these wretches mean to seek a divorce here, which death must soon give them in theii* beds?" " Here (says my friend) you see, that to the depravity of human nature death only cafi put an end. This old man and woman are fanioild for being the greatest matrimony-mongers in the kingdom ; he is her sixth husband, and she his sixth wife : they make up a hundred and sixty- six years between them : the match was pro- posed by their neighbours, for the similitude of their ages and fortunes, and they were coupled together for a joke : they have therefore taken this opportunity to regain their freedom, and dispose of themselves more suitable to their juvenile inclinations." I was so shocked at this account, that I was just going to forbid the dis- solution of the banns, but was prevented by a young woman, who jostled through the throng, and with an audible voice repeated, "* I forbid the divorce, I forbid the divorce." This acci- dent raised our attention, and I was anxious for the consequence of it. The young damsel had now reached the place of ceremony, and insisted that no dissolution might be alloAved ; for that the old man was her grandfather, and would not give her the portion he had promised her, thereby preventing her marriage to a young man he had betrothed her toj and the sole reason of NO. 24. THE GLEANEtt. 191 it was, that if he could be divorced from his dame, he would settle the money designed for her, as well as all the rest of his estate, on a young minx whom he had an intention to marry. The old man denied not the charge, and the old dame said it was no lawful objection; but both urged for their divorce, as they both came by mutual consent, and were both ready to give sufficient reasons for their claiming it. As such reasons were thought to be pretty extraordinary, the priest inquired what they might be. They both unanimously insisted they were never law- fully and truly married ; therefore, as there had been a material error in the ceremony, the whole marriage ought to be set aside. On being asked what the defect miglit be, they both eagerly re- plied, that the priest omitted the necessary and material form, where he should have wished them to increase and multiply. So unexpected a plea raised a general laugh; however, as they insisted on it, it was allowed, on condition the old man should pay his grand-daughter's portion. He consented: the gaffer and his dame were turned north and south; and the one went chuckling away with his young minx, and the other hob- bled smirking up to a young country lad, put a bag of money in his hand, and trotted off with much consolation. 192 THE GLEANER. NO. 24r To these succeeded another couple, who, having always maintained an exemplary charac- ter for conjugal prudence and affection, drew on them the eyes and admiration of all. As soon as they approached the altar, there ap- peared some reluctance in the woman : she looked on the man with an earnestness which betrayed she had too much love to think of separating herself from him. " Behold there (says my interpreter) an instance of jealousy; that woman is distractedly fond of her husband, yet for some unjust suspicions that he is en- gaged in an amour, she has lately made his life entirely uneasy ; for notwithstanding she has prudence enough to conceal this violent passion from the observation of the world, she is in pri- vate continually tormenting him with false ac- cusations. This procedure has occasioned a coldness on his part, which still aggravates her surmises : mutual bickerings have caused fre- quent wishes on both sides, tliat tliere could be a possibiHty of being unmarried : their wishes are at last granted, and wc shall now sec in what manner they will behave.'* He had no sooner spoke, than the priest was just beginning the ceremonial. They both seemed dissatisfied, and viewed one another as if they repented of their rashness, yet were too obstinate to make such KO. 24. THE GLEANEfe. 193 a confession. They were no sooner separated according to the form prescribed, but they met again at the lower end of the temple ; and after a little conversation, the woman was heard to re- peat this couplet with much tenderness and pas- sion : Such oddities and charms you have about you, I cannot live nor with you, nor witliout you. The man kissed her with much fondness, and they withdrew together to liave the marriage knot again tied, which in tlic height of passion they had so often wished to have been dissolved. I was reflecting on the scene which had just passed before my eyes; and observing to my companion that the desire in married persons of dissolving the sacred knot, oftener arose from imaginary causes, or irregular passions, than from any admiration of a single life ; at which instant some one knocking at my chamber door, the temple vanished, and I found myself in my elbow-chair. Universal Spectator, vol. iv. p. 51. No. 38 of the Lounger, a paper by Mr. Mackenzie, seems founded on this lucubration of the Universal Spectator: both are conducted with humour and spirit. VOL. I, & 194 THE GLEANER. NO. 25. No. XXV. But fhou shalt flourish in immortal youth, Unhurt, amidst the war of elements, The wreck of matter, and the crush of Morlds. Add. Cato. Sir, I AM an old man, as you are ; and when I re- flect on the fantastic vicissitude of human affairs ; when I consider the shortness of life, and the small pretensions I have to any longer share in it, it fills my mind with something grave, solemn, and, I must own, melancholy : but when I give my thoughts a more unbound- ed scope, and pass over that short intermission of life, into the contemplation of an eternal being, my mind recovers from that gloom which the first reflection filled me with, and grows gay in proportion to the influence which this latter has upon it. I was last night reading that celebrated speech of Cato, whence I have taken the motto with which I head this letter ; and whe- ther it was from the serious thoughts whicli that soliloquy inspired, or tlie last strong glimpses of a mind almost expiring, and habi- tuated to such speculations, I am not able to NO. 25. THE GLEANER. 195 determine; but I was no sooner fallen asleep, than the following dream (or rather vision) grew into form, and filled my fancy. Methought the dreadftd hour was come, in which I was to resign this life : my bed was surrounded by a silent company of weeping friends, whose sorrows touched me more than my own approaching dissolution, which happen- ed in less time than human nature can con- ceive ; and therefore (though at that period I felt it sensibly) it is impossible I should now describe it. I was no sooner freed from the in- cumbrance and obscurity of matter, but my soul became refined to such an infinite degree of conception, that my eyes, ha\dng nothing to interrupt or confine their view, were strength- ened with such piercing beams, that they darted every glance through an innumerable progres- sion of worlds, and illuminated me with a par- ticular and perfect knowledge of the harmony and fiibric of each extended system. Whilst I was thus lost in contemplation (for infinite space, like an endless source, still af- forded me new objects to nourish that inextin- guishable thirst of knowledge which is the em- ployment of eternal life), I felt a heavenly transport, whicli diffused itself swifter than thought through the frame of my new being ; o 2 196 TH GLEANEft. NO. 16. and which, at the same tifne it ttiade my soul tremble with its influence, invigorated and en- abled it to support the energy. I now enjoyed a perfect felicity ; and whilst my soul (whose desire of knowledge increased in proportion with its power to gratify it) em- ployed each different sensation in pursuit of that branch which was peculiar to its nature; on a sudden I heard an universal crack, which seemed to arise from the whole number of created worlds, and resounded from globe to globe, with a long continuance of reverberated uproars^ At last, the chain that linked them in that de- pendant order, in which from the first moment of their creation they have perpetually been moving, shivered of itself: the loosened orbs, thus disunited, began to roll with an incon- ceivable swiftness through the vast expanse of space, and met and shocked each other in the dark vacuity ! The sun, now robbed of light, whirled rapid and irregular ! The moon let loose her seas, and rained a deluge in her fall- incr ! The fixed stars, that from the birth of time had kept their appointed stations, no longer avv'cd by the all-powerful Word, broke loose, and rushed together. Prodigious was the sound, and horrible the conflict ! The ele- NO. 25. THE GLEANER. 197 ments, forgetting theii' respective qualities, and urged by the immutable decree, met all, and mixed, and lost themselves in ruinous confu- sion When all seemed buried in profoundest dark- ness, the wild uproai' ceased at once : and as I wondered at this sudden silence, a pyramid of fire broke through, that in a moment enwrap- ped the whole; and having nothing left to prey upon, at length devoured itself. Thus was the end of all ! When, from that inaccessible brightness where the Divine Pre- sence conceals, yet makes itself known, a beam of day shot out, which lighting up the infinite extent of heaven, and rendering it transparent, discovered all its glories. I then perceived the stream of life, which running through the midst of heaven, quickened wherever it rolled, and watering the tree of knowledge, nourished it eternally. Next, I saw numberless swarms of beings like myself, that filled the vastness of infinitude; and seemed lost, like me, in w^onder, praise, and adoration ! I heard a voice (which had more influence than the most perfect liar- mony of human art, and communicated itself to all alike) cry, " Come, eat of the Tree of Jvnowledge, and drink of the Water of Life." Immediately the angelic host, and all the 198 THE GLEANER. NO. 25 children of earth (who, by obedience to this command, were become one and the same), ate and drank as they were commanded. The first effect of this tliat I found on myself, and per- ceived in all the rest, was a perfect recollection of whatever I had done since my iirst entering into life. Various w^re the consequences ! Thp imgrateful, the murderer, the miser, the false fiiend, and the rebel, remembered with horror their past crimes, and grew frantic at every thought, with the consciousness of what they merited. They felt the severest pangs of that most lively of all torments, despair ! But the just, and those who had the least to reproach themselves with, found, yet, they had too much to answer for, when, in the book of record (which was thrown open to the view of all), they perceived that the minutest of their thoughts were registered. Now^ we all became sensible how easy the rule was by which we were to have lived, and how adapted to tlie required obedience of hu- man nature. Whilst we Avere thus lamenting our unliappy states, and aggravating our misery by self conviction, in an instant we discovered a fiercer blaze of light, and beheld the mystic Aeil drawn off, that shrowdcd the Almighty's presence, liaised on a throne, to whicli the NO. 25. THE GLEANER. 199 brightness of the sun would have been dim, the Divine Father of all things disclosed himself: his countenance was mildly aweful ; paternal tenderness shone out in every feature of his face, and discovered a concern for us, which we knew proceeded from a divine idea, that if He should be merciful. He must be more than just. On his right hand sat the Second Person, our known Redeemer : in him the beauty of the Father was divinely manifested ; in him the glory of his power at once was softened and exerted. Behind him the fatal figure of that cross on which he suffered, hung, like a dread- ful comet, prognosticating the hour of judg- ment. On the left was placed the Third ado- rable Person in the now no longer mystic union. In him an equal mixture of the Fatlier and the Son revealed itself, uniting in his countenance the severest glory of the one, with the most ineffable sweetness of the other. Beneath, and on the right of the world's triumphant Saviour, sat his twel'.e disciples : their eyes were fixed on their great master's looks, and seemed to borrow tlience, by reflec- tion, all their softness and their lustre. In equal stations, on the left of the Holy Spirit, ap- 200 THE GLEANER. NO. 2.5. peared those ancient philosophers, who, through the dusk of superstition and idolatry, by the light of reason and mere nature, saw and taught one true, eternal God ; and, in defence of that belief, had courage enough to suffer martyr- dom. Whilst I contemplated this Divine appear- ance, I heard a voice which, proceeding thence, pierced the profoundest space of heaven, pro- claiming, *^That each should be his own judge; and, from the testimony of his own conscience, acquit or condemn himself.'* Immediately all the just, and those whose consciences, by due allowances for the frailties of human nature, could acquit and encourage them, advanced, and (with a modesty at once more humble and assured than any thing on earth) asserted and made known their virtues and obedience to the Divine commands ; con- cluding, that though they had acquitted them- selves, and were entitled by the unalterable Word to everlasting felicity, yet could they not pretend to claim it, till they had receiv ed the Almiglity sanction, which they hoped for throTigh the mediation, the merits, and the blood of his beloved Son, who died for man's redemption, pardon, and salvation. After w hich. NO. 25. THE GLEANER. 201 they prostrated themselves before the throne, and, receiving diadems of glory, were admitted as partakers of beatitude without end. I then heard the same voice repeat, " Let each be his own judge; and, from the testimony of his own conscience, acquit or condemn him- self." But far from seeing any more advance (though still there were infinite numbers re- maining), I observed that they drew back, re- proaching each other, beating their breasts, and making such variety of lamentations, that the violent noise awakened me, in such a mixture of joy and horror, that it will be long before my memory wears out the impression of so strong a vision ; which, if it affects you enough to make you judge it worth publishing, I shall have slept, as I love to wake, for the service or warning of others. I am, Sir, Your constant reader, CD. Plain-Dealer, No. 43, Aug. 17, 172i. 202 THE GLEANER. NO. 26. No. XXVI. -Miniientur atra; Carmine cuiae. HoKAT. AVake then the song ! each care remove That flies thy tuneful lay. BOSCAWE-V, Squire, You are the only person in the world, whose judgment I rely on in all cases of like nature to mine; therefore I desire of your worship to know how I shall act. I am what they please to call a Toast and a Fortune, and am conse- quently tormented with a number of imper- tinent humble servants. But one is the plague of my life, not only from his assiduity, but his conduct and behaviour : he seems to have a design to bully me, or fright me into a com- pliance ; for he courts me sword in hand ; and, on my first frown, he draws, and tells me if I am in the least cruel, he will before my eyes stab himself immediately. Now, Mr. * * * *^ I am terrified at the apprehension of a man's killing himself for me : I have a thousand fears about seeing a bloody ghost at my feet-curtains NO. 26. THE GLEANER. 203 in the dead of night. Yet I cannot bear the thoughts of lying all night in the arms of the man I scorn, detest, abominate. What shall I do ? Shall I let him kill himself? Do you think he will kill himself? If he is coward enough to fright me, can you imagine him valiant enough to keep his word ? Your sentiments and advice about this threatening felo de se lover, would oblige, Yours, Charlotte Languish. The best advice I can give the lady will be contained in the following little tale ; wliich, though it has been already in print, yet I believe is now very little known, and exactly suits the circumstances of this killing, despair- ing lover. THE DESPAIRING LOVER. Distracted with care For Phyllis the fair. Since nothing could move her, Poor Damon, her lover, Resolves in despair; Resolves not to languish, And bear to much anguibh ; But, mad with his love, To a precipice goes, 204 THE GLEANER. NO. 26, Where a leap from above Would soon finish his woes. When in rage he came there, Beholding how steep The sides did appear. And the bottom how deep ; His torments projecting, And sadly reflecting, That a lover forsaken A new love might get ; But a neck when once broken, Can never be set ; And that he could die Whenever he would ; But that he could live But as long as he could ; How grievous so ever His torment might grow, He scorn'd to endeavour To finish it so. But bold, unconcern'd At the thoughts of the pain, He calmly return'd To his cottage again. Sir, Having lately seen some of your lucubrations filled with nothing with verses having nothing of poetry and letters notliing to the purpose ^ NO* 26. tMe gleaner* 205 I was apprehensive that your paper would soon come to jwthhig ; therefore, as I have in my time communicated some little pieces which have accidentally fell into my possession, I was willing, before you quite departed, to send you tlie following nothing, which was sung on Drury-lane Stage this winter, and, I believe, was never yet in print. If you should not like this nothing, you may do nothing with it; for whether laid aside, or approved of, it is nothing to Yours, Tim. Playword. A BALLAD ON NOTHING. Come hark to our ditty, which shall not be long ; For we've Nothing new, sirs, your time to prolong; So we e'en have made Nothing the theme of our song ; Which Nobody can deny. Nor let the grave critic of our Nothing complain, Though Nothing of Wit should be found in our strain ; From Nothing all know there can Nothing remain ; Which Nobody can deny. From this Nothing the courtier iissistance must borrow, By this he the arts of his levee goes thorough ; For a promise to-day stands for Nothing to-morrow ; Whicii Nobody can deny. 206 THE GLEANER. NO. 26. 'Tis from Nothing young Patriots oft catch at a hint. Thunder out a bold speech, and then get it in print ; *Tis their only misfortune that there is Nothing in't; Which Nobody can deny. Of their purses and gold the French have been free To reward Farinelli by this we may see Other climes are as much charm'd with Nothing as we ; Which Nobody can deny. When Ward without art a fam'd doctor is grown. When Mapp excels surgeons in setting a bone, That our doctors and surgeons are Nothing you'll own; Which Nobody can deny. Some Wits to the stage will their Nothing commend ; Full of Nothing they write, and to Nothing they tend ; So beginning with Nothing, in Nothing they end ; Which Nobody can deny. Mr. I am just on the verge of becoming an old maid, having entered into my thirty-fifth year, at tlie expiration of wliich I look on myself as an absolute old maid. I might put off the evil day longer by denying my age ; but instead of that, I have resigned myself to such a state, and wish the rest of my sex would form their desires according to my Wish ; which if you will com- municate to the pubHc, you will oblige. Yours, Dkboraii Spinster. NO. 26. THE GLEANER. 207 THE OLD MAID'S WISH. As I grow an old maid, and I find I go down, Nor ador'd in the country, nor courted in town, In country or town let this still be my fate. Not the jest of the young, nor of aged the hate. May I govern my passion with absolute sway. May my wisdom increase as my youth wears away, And good-nature attend to my very last day. Beneath an old oak, near a murmuring brook. Without e'en a sigh on past time may I look ; No love in my head, may I blame no false swain> Nor lost in despair sing some pitiful strain ; But still govern my passion, &c. With the young or the old, with the maid or the wife, Oh may I enliven the evening of life ; Still gay without pride, and jocose without art, With some sense in my tongue, and much truth in my heart ; May I govern my passion, &c. May I not have one thought or desire to appear In parties of pleasure 'mong the young and the fair; But with grave sober dames all my wishes fulfil, With three dishes of tea, and three games at quadrille ; Thus govern my passion, &c. When grown still more old (as not courted when young), May I ne'er wish to listen to man's flatt'ring tongue ; And should some young spark for my fortune make love, With scorn and contempt at his scheme, may I prove I can govern my passion with absolute sway. For my wisdom increases as youth wears away, Though good-nature attends to my very last day. 208 THE GLEANER. NO. 26^ Without long disease may I gently decay; And when dead, may the men of the better sort say, Peace be with her soul, in the grave when she's' laid, Who belov'd was by all, though she died an old maid ; For she govern'd her passion with absolute sway. Her wisdom increas'd as her youth wore away, And good nature attended her very last day. These three poems, with their introductory addresses, are taken from the Universal Spectator, vol. iii. p. 134. 169. and 256. XO. 27. THE GLEANER. 2Q9 No. XXVII. How strange, how curious, is the critic's art ! Anon. In this curious age^ the following letter cannot fail of being an entertainment to the public. Mr. Having for twenty years last past been very busily employed, I think it now incumbent on me to acquaint the world what I have been doing: for as every private man takes the liberty of examining the public conduct, most certainly the public has an equal right to be informed how every private man disposes of himself. You must then know, that, with infinite labour and assiduity, I have been turning over and examining whole cart-loads of comments, expo- sitions, vocabularies, explanatory notes, and indexes, collating manuscripts, and settling their 'various readings ; and all this with an intent to improve the noble art of criticism, and clear up those obscurities in ancient authors, which either length of time, or the negligence oi transcribers, has been the cause of Whereby I have attained such a perfect knowledge in things of this nature, VOL. L p ^10 THE GLEANER. UO. 27. that I flatter myself no writer can come amiss to me. And having most at heart the honour of* my own country, I have employed this skill chiefly to restore such old English authors as are neglected and almost lost for want of being duly understood ; and send you, as a specimen, an ess^y on a little poem, which our forefathers esteemed so highly, that they seldom failed to implant it in the memory of their children so soon as they could speak; though the bard who wrote it, and the age wherein he lived, cannot certainly be found out ; but there is good reason to belie\^e it must have been some time between the Conquest and the Reformation. As this piece has never yet been attempted, though it may move the envy of my brother critics, it will, I doubt not, be gi'eatly useful and entertaining to the world ; and according to its success, I shall suppress or publish above 100 volumes, which, with inexpressible paitis and equal candour , I have compiled for the service of my country. Once I was a bachelor, and lived by myself, And all the victuals that I had I put upon a shelf; But the rats and the mice they made such a strife, I was forc'd to go to London to get me a wife. The streets were so wide, and the lanes were so narrow, I was fain to bring my wife home in a wheel-barrow : KO. 27. THE GLEANER. 211 The wheel-barrow broke, and my wife had a fall ; So the devil take the wheel-barrow, wife, and all 1 Once I was a bachelor, It is the general opinion of all the commen' tators I have yet seen, that the ingenious author o?t\\h poem was, even at the time he wrote, a married man : and indeed they bring some tolerable reasons for that belief, from the last line of the piece itself; as I shall shew in my observations on it. But, whether or no this important point can be determined, two things seem evident from the passage now before us : first, that he was a man of learning ; and, secondly, that he was an admirer of those lines which were originally before the ^^neids of Virgil, till taken away by Varus: for does he not exactly begin in the same manner as " Ille ego qui quondam.** And lived by myself. This phrase is very ambiguous, and has caused much dispute. Some make it imply his dwelling in a house all alone, without any mortal in it but himself: others again insist, there is no necessity to take the literal sense so strictly; for they say, a man may be said to live by himself, who has only a servant or two about him, which cannot be p 2 212 THE GLEANER. NO. 2*7. called company. Another sort suppose it only means, his living in ?i private manner, 2ind perhaps in a lonely house, without paying or receiving visits : and there are again others, who reject all the above opinions entirely, and make living by himself to signify, that he lived, or subsisted, or got a livelihood, by his own care and industry ; id est, without the assistance of any body. I shall not take upon me to determine in this nice case, but leave it to the judicious : however, I must not conceal that some manuscripts have it differently (viz. and lay by myself); which is indeed a much plainer sense, could it be proved genuine ; but as it appears in none of the early copies, it was probably introduced into some later ones, with design to get rid of the difficulty abovementioned : and the text, as I have given it, seems, according to my judgment, much more coherent with what immediately comes after. And all the victuals that I had I j)ut upon a shelf. Much time and learning have been spent to explain the meaning of the word victuals. Some make it signify, all kinds of food in general; others affix it to particulars, such as sirloin of beef, JVestplialia ham, vcnisoji pasty, gaynmon of hacon, he. according, I suppose, to e\'ery one's NO. 27. THE GLEANER. 213 different taste. But, for my own part, I appre- hend, that every wordi^ to be understood accord ing to the subject about which it is employed ; as for instance, in this before us ; victuals, when speaking of a country squire* s table, may signify buttock of beef , chine of pork, &c.; when applied to afuie lady, ortolan, or leg of a lark ; but when used in mentioning a city feast, must always mean foxvls and bacon, haunch of venisoyi, poxvdered goose, and custard. And this will shew us the true explanation of it in this place : for are we not speaking of a bachelor? and will not every child tell us that bread and cJieese and kisses Sire the fare (i.e. thevictuals) of a bachelor? ergo, it must signify bread and cheese, and nothing else : for though kisses were added by the way of sauce, they could not be put upon a shelf, as we are told this was. And hereby may be seen how easily truth is found out, when sought after without pride or prejudice. The diet of our present bachelors is indeed very different, for they make whole meals of the sauce only ; but in the early days of simplicity when our author wrote, without doubt his way of speak- ing was so intelligible that no one could mistake his meaning. As to the shelf licre mentioned, the learned are at a loss, whether it was a hanging-shelf, or 214 THE GLEANER. NO. 27. a shelf affixed against the tvall. Some think hanging-shelves were a much later invention ; others maintain the contrary : but both sides urge their arguments with more of fancy than sound reasoning, and after all leave the matter entirely in the dark. Though was it possible to ascertain this, the next line would admit of no debate, as it at present does. But the rats and the mice they made such a strife. A doubt arises here, whether the r^ats and mice got at the victuals^ and contended about the division ; or whether they made a noise and disturbance, because they could not reach it : and this cannot be easily cleared up, unless the kind of shelf whereon it stood was known. But one thing appears evident, though none of the commentators have noted it, viz. that the author kept no cat ; and, we may reasonably presume, had a natural aversion to, and probably would have swooned at the sight of that animal. For otherwise he might have ended all this strife ef- fectually, by the assistance of that useful crea- ture, without giving himself any farther trouble. I take this to be one of those Jine passages, where, from a hint given, much is left to the reader's imagination to supply, which in writing NO. 27. THE GLEANER. 215 is the greatest beauty. A common scribbler can say every thing upon a subject ; but to let the reader have the satisfaction of seeming to inform liimself, requires the pen of an able master. I was forc'd to go to London to get me a wife. His going to London proves his habitation was not there ; but whereabouts he dwelt in the country, is, I fear, a piece of knowledge impos- sible to come at. The necessity he lay under of getting a xvife^ we were told in the line be- fore ; it was the vexation which the rats and mice gave him : ergo^ he wanted a 'wife to drive away the rats and mice. This is indeed a very odd reason ; and yet, perhaps, as good a one as many marry for, even now-a-days : and we may guess his going to London^ rather than any other place, was, because he imagined women in a great city might be cunninger and better skilled in making mouse-traps than silly country girls. But now, here's a various reading, which is a bone of con- tention amongst the learned ; for several manur scripts give the above line thus, r I was forc'd to go to London to buy me a wife : And numbers of commentators, critics, &c. insist that this is the true and genuine te.vt ; and 216 THE GLEANER. NO. 27, that gef, instead of buy, is a scandalous corrup- tion, wilfullij and ivickedlij introduced in preju- dice to woman-kind : and they even charge the fact on some fortune-hunters of a neighbouring nation. The fi?}iale critics are all of this opi- nion ; and pretend to prove, that instead of re- ceiving portions with, men heretofore used to pay money for, their wives, as an acknowledg- ment to their parents for the care and expense of their education. They bring likewise a piece of Scripture, which says, " Children are great riches," and interpret it to serve their own pur- pose, as is done too frequently on many other occasions. They likewise argue with great ear- nestness, tliat this reasonable custom (as they are pleased to call it) ought again to be the ge- neral practice. But, notwithstanding all their warmth, I must on this point beg leave to differ from them ; for I can't find such a custom ever w^as established in this island, nor do I believe it ever will, iniless zcivcs would be content to feed on 7?iice of tlicir own catching, and clothe them- selves with t];e skins. I must therefore insist upon the aiitlicntickncss of the word i>t'/ ; nor can I sec aj]} damage tlic women suffer by it ; for was there even an act of parliament, that no man should marry iniiess he'd hiiij a icifc^ tlie conse- t|uence would be so tcTible, that in one year's yrO. 27. THE GLEANER. 217 time, I make no doubt, the whole sex would join in a petition to have such an act repealed. Our author judiciously passes over the court" ship, the wedding, &c. which would have fur- nished out a volume to some writers, and hastens on to shew the difficulties he met with immediately after marriage. The streets were so wide, and the lanes were so narrow, I was fain to bring my wife home in a wheel-barrow. This passage is not so clear as I could wish. We may learn from it, however, that streets and lanes were in those days just as they are at pre- sent : but I can't conceive the reason (for it seems to be made a reason) why therefore he was obliged to bring his wife home in the above manner. Yet this may put an end to the long dispute about the greater antiquity of wheel-bar- rows and coaches, in favour of the former ; for what man alive would carry his bride liome in a wheel-harrow, if there was any coach to put her in ? Ergo, wheel-harroxcs were before coaches. The wheel-barrow broke, and my wife had a fall ; So the devil take whcel-barrow, wife, and all ! We may here learn the instabihty of mortal things. Though we set out with the fairest liopes imaginable, accidents one upon the neck 218 THE GLEANER. NO. 27. of another oftentimes intervene, and make that our misfortune which we pursued as our great- est happiness ! Such are the terms of living ! We therefore ought to fortify the mind to bear them with resignation. Whether the heaviness of the wife, the rug- gedness of the way, the oldness of the wheel- barrow, or all these together, occasioned it to break, I am unable to determine : but break it did, that's certain: and, probably, Mrs. Bride w^as thrown in the dirt in all her gay apparel ; which put the husband in such a passion, as made him wish both her and the wheel-barrow at the devil. This xvish (as I said before) some commentators bring to prove the author was a married man for, say they, he writes in the true spirit of a hus- band, and certainly felt the vexation he repre^ sents. Nay, some pretend to maintain, no single man could curse a rvij'e so heartily. But leaving these conjectures, I must take notice of this phrase (a)id all), which is so beautifully added, and shews sufficiently the learning of our author; for herein he plainly imitates that great master, Ovid, who abounds everywhere with these pleo- nasias, or redundancies of expression; whereof I could give a thousand instances, though one may serve at present, viz. Omnia pontus erant, dccrant quoquc littora ponto. NO. 27. TtlE GLEANER. 219 It likewise proves his understanding the French language ; for was a man to wish his wife and her equipage at the devil, in that tongue, and had a mind still to enforce his wish, could he do it better than by the phrase, et tons Ics deux? though indeed the meaning of our au- thor has a double strength, by using only half the words ; which (by the w^ay) is generally the difference between the French and English lan- guages. Now, having gone through my observations, I will not conceal, that some zvriters believe this poem to be merely allegorical : for, say they, it evidently means, that when a man finds some little inconveniences by living single, such as careless, unruly, or xvasteful servants, implied by rats and mice; and seeks a wife to set his affairs in order; immediately a thousand unforeseen difficulties arise from the contrariety of their tempers, signified by xvide streets and narrow lanes ; and he is forced to make use of a xvheeU harrow, whereby they represent conjugal affec- tion : till at last, that breaking, or being quite destroyed by frequent quarrels, the zvife gets a fall, or loses all her power, and becomes hated ; and then he wishes her and every thing about him at the devil I I am well aware my cotemporary critics will 220 THE GLEANER. NO. 27. cavil at this Essay, and be angry that I depart from their established method of reading, in or- der only to find fault. I expect they'll fall upon me without mercy ; but no fear of them shall ever deter me from giving jr?r we where I believe it due, or make me sacrifice the reputation of any author to envy and ill-nature, I am. Sir, Yours, &c. Aristotle. Ukitersai, Spectator, vol. i. p. Q5. This paper, which is written in a very pleasant vein of ridi- cule, has laid the foundation for several imitations : of these the best are, the Critique on the Heroic Poem of the Knave of Hearts, in Nos. 11 and 12 of The Microcosm; and the Criticism on Peter Piper, in Nos. 8 and 15 of Litt'rary Leisure. NO. 28 THE GLEANER. 321 No. XXYIII. Omnibus in terris quae sunt a Gadibus usque Auroram et Gangem, pauci dignoscere possunt Vera bona, atque illis multum diversa remota Erroris nebula. Quid enim ratione timemus Aut cupimus ? quid tam dextro pede concipis, ut te Conatus non poeniteat, votique peracti ? Evertere domos tolas, optantibus ipsis, Di faciles. JUTENAL. XiOok round the habitable world : how few Know their own good ; or, knowing it, pursue ! How void of reason are our hopes and fears ! What in the conduct of our life appears So well design'd, so luckily begun, Ijut, when we have our wish, we wish undone? Whole houses of their whole desires possest, Are often ruin'd at their own request. Drydew. It was the prayer of Socrates, that the gods would give him such things as themselves knew to be most convenient and best for him : inti- mating thereby, how ignorant mortals are of their own real wants, and what is proper for them to ask of heaven : and, in the same man- ner, with an entire resignation to the guidance and good pleasure of that Power which made us, ought we all to send up our petitions thi- ther. There is nobody, I believe, who will take 222 THE GLEANER." NO. 28. the pains of recollecting and considering them, but may find in his past life many desires, which, if they had been gratified, would have madeJ him miserable ; as well as frequent blessings arising to him from things and circumstances which were the chiefest objects of his fear* Providence often gives a turn so directly con- trary to all human forecast and expectation, that we, who know nothing of the eternal pro- duction of causes and effects, cannot judge with any certainty what we Ought to seek for, or what to avoid. Happiness is the wish and pursuit of all j but we are so bewildered by our passions and our ignorance together, that, with- out the direction and assistance of some power infinitely wiser than ourselves, it is impossible ever to attain it. We scarce see an inch before us, and form so ill a judgment even of that little we do see, that, were w^e left to our own conduct, of all creatures we should become most wretched ; mistaking continually our real good, and eagerly pursuing what would prove our sure destruction. Were we always to ob- tain our wishes, we should fare like the coun- tryman in the fable, wliom Jupiter indulged with rain or sunshine upon his fields, whenever he thought fit to pray for it ; till a barren har- vest and empty barns (whilst plenty smiled on NO. 28. THE GLEANER. 223 all his neighbours round) convinced him of his folly, and made him lament, too late, the com- pletion of his own rash desires. But under all this ignorance of things, we have one certain rule to go by; and that is, to follow close the steps of virtue ; who, though she oftentimes may lead us through rugged, dan- gerous, and gloomy paths, we shall always find will conduct us safe at last to peace and joy. Let us, in all the various actions and affairs of life, stand firmly on our guard against every gay and alluring temptation of interest and advantage ; against riches, greatness, pleasure, applause, and all which the world is usually most fond of j and suffer ourselves to be con- ducted by no other principles but those of in- tegrity, truth, and virtue. Whatever occurs or offers itself to us, let us not so much inquire whether it will advance our fortune or gratify our appetites, as whether it is good and honest, and consistent with what we owe to heaven, ourselves, and all mankind. If we form our measures thus, we may rest assured that what- ever befals us is for the best : we are under the guardianship and care of a just and almighty Providence, which will turn even misfortunes into blessings for us ; and, notwithstanding all appearance, raise happiness out of misery. It 224 TtiE GLEANER. NO. 2SI< is a comfortable thing to be placed above the power and fear of accidents ; and the only way of being so, is, by throwing ourselves entirely into the hands of heaven. There is no station or circumstance of life, however elevated, that is out of the reach of misfortune ; but a steady course of virtue, and a firm reliance on the gracious and wise direction of that Being which orders all things, will support us under the greatest that can arrive, and make us con- sider it but as a necessary progression towards a complete and perfect happiness. A man thus fortified, nothing can terrify or affright : Si fractus illabitur orbis, Impavidum ferient ruinse. Should the whole frame of nature round him break. In ruin and confusion hurl'd ; He, unconcern'd, would hear the mighty crack, And stand secure amidst a falling world. The necessities of nature are but small, and those easily supplied j very few are destitute of food and clothing sufficient to support and keep tliem warm ; and for all besides, which Providence thinks fit to hold back from us, we may be satisfied it is much better that we should be without it. Our first petition to the gods, says Seneca, should be for a good con- NO* 28. THE GLEANER. 225 science, the second for health of mind, and then of body. When we lift up our eyes and hands to heaven, and pray for wealth and gran- deur, for the gratification of our pride and am- bition, we ought to tremble at our own pre- sumption, and dread the curses which, perhaps, we are calling down upon our own heads. How miserable are many made, by what we are so rash to ask for ! and how much wiser would it be to receive with thankfldness what that Being is pleased to bestow, who knows our wants better than we ourselves ; and in all things, like Socrates, refer ourselves entirely, with due sub- mission, to his good will and pleasure ! God gives us what lie knows our wants require, And better things than those which we desire. Some pray for riches : riches they obtain ; And, watch'd by robbers, for their wealth are slain. Some pray from prison to be freed ; and come. When gviilty of their vows, to fall at home ; Murder'd by those they trusted with their life, A favour'd servant, or a bosom wife. Such dear-bought blessings happen every day. Because we know not for what things to pray. Like drunken sots about the streets we roam : Well knows the sot he has a certain home ; Yet knows not how to find th' uncertain place. But blunders on, and staggers every pace. Thus all seek happiness, but few can find. For far the greatest part of men are blind. Dryden's Pal. and Arc. VOL . I. Q 226 THE GLEANER. NO. 28* When we behold the wicked exulting in prosperity, and the virtuous distressed and wretched, we may be apt to wonder at the dispensations of Providence, and think them irregular and unaccountable : but if we could discern a little deeper than the surface of things, we should perceive that, even at present, a guilty mind deprives the one of all enjoyment ; whilst the other, supported by a consciousness of innocence, scarce feels the woes he seems to suffer : that the first is dragged on to punish- ment through the mockery of happiness ; and that the distresses of the latter are only neces- sary steps towards a lasting and refined felicity. Appearances are exceedingly fallacious ; and many of those, people fancy the most happy, are the greatest wretches in the world. But, however it be, we may assure ourselves that heaven is just, and, soon or late, will vindicate and reward the good, and condemn the evil- doer to that punishment he deserves. It is not only imprudent and presumptuous, but highly impious, to murmur and complain of Providence, whatever be our lot. Not hea- ven, but our own discontent and folly, make us miserable : we reject that happiness it has given into our power, for a wild pursuit after an imaginary something, which it withholds. kO. "SS. THE GLEANER. ^27 because improper for us. Dazzled at the glit- tering fortunes, and rank, and magnificence of others, we envy theirs j and repine at our own condition ; without examining whether those people are in reality more happy, or better satisfied, than ourselves. For, notwithstanding all their outward splendourj did we see their internal cares and uneasiness, it is probable we would not change with them* Every one of us has that part assigned him, which He that directs the whole knows to be most conducive towards the good of all in general, and each of us in particular. He is the Father of the grand universe, beholds it at one view, and orders every thing throughout in the wisest and best manner, with a due regard to every part. This we should steadfastly believe; and not only for- bear complaining, but enjoy with thankfulness of soul whatever is our portion. M. De la Motte, in his ingenious Fables, reads us a useful lesson on this subject, tlie meaning whereof I shall present my readers. "A wretch (says he), that by casting his eyes and wishes on the cir- cumstances of other people, was much uneasy at his own, wearied heaven with complaints from day to day ; till Jupiter, willing to content him, took him up to the calestial storehouse, where the fortunes of all mankind, in bags seal- q2 228 THE GLEANER. NO. 28* cd up by Destiny, were ranged according to their several conditions and degrees. ' Here (says the god), though thy imj^ious murmurs deserve rather my anger than my indulgence, yet, if possible, thou shalt be satisfied. Weigh, and choose amongst them all ; but know, the better to direct thy choice, that the lightest are the most desirable, for only the evils and mis- fortunes of life are heavy.' The man, with thankfidncss, assured himself of happiness, since now it depended upon his own election, and lifting up with all his strength the first and highest bag, that of supreme command, wherein tormentins: cares lie concealed under the dis- guise of gilded pageantry: ' That man's shoul- ders must be strong indeed (says he) who can support this burthen ; for my part, I'll have none of it.' He tried a second, that of prime minis- ter, and people in exalted posts; but what with ambitious desires, anxiety, fatigue, wliat with the vexation of disappointment, and the dread of dis- grace, tlifs was rendered so exceeding ponderous, that he could not lielp crying out, 'Oil! unhappy they to whom this load belongs ! good heaven, preserve me from it ! ' He went on from one to another, and poized a thousaiid and a thousand, l>ut found them all too weighty for him : some ))v de})endancc, and the misery of constraint ^ yo. 28. THE GLEANER. 229 others by boundless and unsatisfied desires ; some by hope, some by fear, and some merely by a surfeit of what the v.orid ealls pleasure. ' Good God ! (says he) is there no such thing then as a tolerable condition ? but stay, where- fore do I complain ? at last I think I shall be fitted ; here's one that feels much lighter than the rest.' ' And it would be still more so (says Jupiter), but he that now possesses it knows not his own happiness, and that ignorance oc- casions all its weiglit. ' ' O stupidity ! (cries the man) ; pray grant it me, and I shall not be so foolish.' 'Take and enjoy it (replies the god), for it is indeed thine own ; and learn from hence, never to find fault again with Provi- dence.'* Univehsal Spectator, vol. ii. p. 246. 250 THE GLEANER. NO. 29, No. XXIX. There's joy, when to wild will you laws prescribe j When you bid Fortune carry back her bribe : A joy which none but greatest minds can taste ; A f^me which will to endless ages last. Drtden, There was a young man of extraordinary beau- ty, whose name was Florio ; who was as remark* able for his virtue and ingenuity, as his elder brother Braminto was noted for deformity, and a brutal, wicked disposition. The mother, who doated upon her second son, looked on the other with horror. The eldest, stung with jea- lousy and envy, devised a monstrous calumny to ruin his brother. He made his father be- lieve, that Florio went by stealth to a neigh- bour's, who was his avowed enemy ; that he informed him of all the family concerns, and had entered into measures with him to poison his father. Hereupon the father, in his fury, beat his innocent son most cruelly, imprisoned him in a damp dungeon three days, and then banished him from his house, with menaces to kill him if ever he returned. The afflicted mother was terrified ; though she did not dare to vent her anguish, but in secret sighs. The ^0 29. THE GLEANER. 2&1 unhappy youth went from his father's house, not knowing which way to direct his wandering steps. He journeyed onward as the country lay before him, and towards evening he passed through a dark forest. The night overtook him as he came under shelter of a great rock ; there he laid himself down at the entrance of a cave, on a bed of moss, near which ran a rill of pure water ; and soon fell into a sleep, through the lassitude of his spirits, notwithstanding his sorrow. When he waked to the early music of the birds, he saw a beautiful woman mounted on a milk-white steed with trappings of gold, who seemed to follow the chace. " Have you not seen (said she) a stag pass this way, pursued by hounds ? " " Neither stag nor hounds have I seen," replied the youth. "You seem (said the lady then) to be greatly afflicted : what is your distress ? Be comforted, young man, and take this ring, which will make you the most happy and the most powerful mortal, provided you never abuse my gift. When you turn the diamond inward, you will become invisible ; when you shall put the ring upon your little finger, you will be taken for the son of tlie king, and be attended by a magnificent train of courtiers j and if you shift it to your fourth 232 THE GLEANER. NO. 29. finger, you will appear in your natural figure." She said no more, but in an instant plunged out of sight into the wood : when the young man soon apprehended that the lady who spoke thus to him was a fairy. Transported with his good fortune, Florio resolved to return to his father's house, impa- tient to make trial of his ring. He saw and he heard every thing he desired, without being discovered ; and had it in his power to avenge himself of his brother, without being exposed to any danger. Nevertheless he could not re- frain from disclosing himself to his disconsolate mother; whom he entrusted with his strange adventure. This done, he removed his en- chanted ring to his little finger, and at once appeared entering the house like the prince, the son of the king, attended by a number of officers, richly clothed, with an hundred led- horses in his train. His father was astonished to see the king's son in his little house ; and was at a loss to know how he miglit behave himself towards him with proper respect. Florio demanded of him, how many sons he had. To which he an- swered, two. " I desire to see them ; bring them instantly before me ; I liave a mind to carry them both to court, and make their for- NO. 29. THE GLEANER. 233 tunes,*' continued he. The father, hesitating through his guilt, said ; " This is my eldest, whom I now present to you." " Where then is the youngest? I must see him likewise," replied Florio. " He is not at home (said the father) ; " I chastised him for a fault, and he is run away." " But (answered Florio) you should have en- deavoured to amend him by your instructions, and not have driven him from your house. Nevertheless, give me the eldest, and let him follow me. And do you (speaking to his father) go along with two of my guards, who will con- duct you to the place I shall appoint." Imme- diately two of the guards took the father under their care. And now the fairy, already mention- ed, coming up to him in a forest, smote him on the shoulder with a golden wand, and compelled him to go down into a deep dark cavern, where he remained under the enchantment. " Abide there (said she) till your son comes to deliver you." In the mean time Florio went to the king's court, when the young prince was embarked with troops, to carry on a war in a distant island. He had been driven by the winds on a strange coast, where, suffering shipwreck, he was detained captive amongst a barbarous 2S4 THE GLEANER. NO. 29. people. Flork) made his appearance in the court, as if he was the very prince whose loss was universally lamented. He said, he should never have seen his own country again, had he not been assisted by some merchants. He was the public joy : the king received him with fatherly transports, which appeared in the si- lence of his close and eager embraces: the queen felt all the tender raptures of a fond mo- ther, and public rejoicings and festivals were ordered throughout the kingdom. One day, this young man, who passed for the prince, said to his own brother ; " Braminto, you see I have brought you from a village to the court, in order to make you a great man : but I know you are a liar, and that by your calumnies you have brought misery upon your brother Florio. Nevertheless, he now lies con- cealed in the palace, and I will have you speak with him, and give him an opportunity to make you sensible of your wicked practices." Bra-^ minto, trembling, cast himself at his feet, and confessed his fault. " But this (says Florio) does not satisfy me; I must have you speak to your brother, and ask his pardon. He must be very generous to forgive you, for you do not deserve it. He is in my closet, where you shall NO, 29. THE GLEANER, 235 see him presently : in the mean time, I will re- move into the next apartment, to leave you more at liberty with him." Hereupon, Florio withdrew into the adjoin- ing room, and, shifting his ring, passed by a back-door into the closet, in his natural shape. When Braminto (after a pause arising from his guilt) ventured to open the closet door that lay before him, he was struck with shame and confusion at the sight of his brother. He asked his pardon, and promised to amend all his faults, Florio embraced him with tears of ten- derness; assured him of a hearty forgiveness; and said, "I am in high favour with the prince: I can, if I please, have you put to death, or have you imprisoned for life : but I will ap- prove myself as indulgent to you, as you have shewn yourself unkind to me." Braminto, abashed and confounded at such goodness, ex- pressed the utmost submission, not daring to lift up his eyes, nor to call him brother. The day after this interview, Florio pretend- ed that he must absent himself from court, and make a journey secretly to marry a prin- cess of a neighbouring kingdom. But, under this pretence, he went to visit his mother, to whom he related what he had done at court ; and he supplied her at the same time with ql 236 THE gleaner! no. 29. convenient sum of money, knowing slie stood in need of it. For the king allowed him to demand of his treasurer what silver and gold he pleased : but his demands were always very moderate. In the mean time, a war broke out between the king and a neighbouring potentate, who was an unjust, truce-breaking prince. Florio went to the court of this faithless monarch, and remaining invisible by means of his ring, he discovered all his most secret counsels. When he was thoroughly apprised of all the designs of the enemy, he entered upon proper measures to disconcert them. He commanded the army of his own king ; entirely defeated his enemies in a bloody battle, and concluded a glorious peace upon equitable conditions. The king was now determined to marry him to a princess who was the heiress of an adjoin- ing kingdom, and whose beauty was admired by all the princes of the east. It happened, one day, that Florio, went out to hunt in the forest where he w^as first benighted in his trou- bles. When, by eager pursuit of a stag, he w^as separated from the company, the fairy pre- sented herself to him again, and said, " I warn you not to think of marrying as if you were the prince: remember, you are to deceive no mam Kd, 29. THE GLEAN^ER. 23T it is just that the prince, whom you personate, should return and succeed to the king his fa- ther. I enjoin you, therefore, to find him out in an island, whither the winds shall convey your ship by my influence. Make no delay to perform this service, due to your master ; and then resolve to return, like an honest man, into your proper condition, without listening to the flattery of ambition. Should you neglect your duty on this occasion, you will be dishonest, and prove in the end unhappy ; for I shall abandon you to your former miseries.'* Having thus spoke with an air of severity, she disap- peared, and her sage advice sunk deep into the young man's heart. He demanded the king's permission to go alone upon a secret negotiation, which (he said) he had a mind to transact with a power- ful state, for the advantage of the kingdom. Under this pretext, he embarked privately in a small ship, and the winds bore him directly to the island where tlie fairy told him he should find the king's son. Accordingly, he found the prince a captive in a barbarous nation, where he was employed to tend sheep. Florio went invisible to the solitary valley where he tended the flocks ; and throwing his own invisible doke over him, he delivered liim firom the 23^ THE GLEANER. n6. 2^* savage people. They embarked together, and the fairy sent favourable winds to bear them home. They landed privately, went directly to court, and entered the king's apartment toge- ther : when Florio, advancing to the king, said^ *' You have believed me to be yoUr son j and yet I am not : but now, I present him to you 5 behold your son indeed." The king, greatly astonished, addressed him* self to the true prince, saying, " Is it not you, my son, who have vanquished my enemies in battle, and who have concluded for me a glo- rious peace? Or, rather, is it true that you have suffered shipwreck; that you were in captivity; and that Florio has delivered you ? '* " Even so, my father (replies the prince). Florio came into the country where I was detained in bon- dage : to him I owe my deliverance : to him I owe the satisfaction of seeing you again : and it is to Florio, not to me, you stand indebted for your victory, and your peace." The amaze- ment whicli was manifest in the countenance of the king, sliewed that he believed not what he heard: whereupon, Florio, shifting his ring, ap- peared in the hkencss of the prince; and the king, yet more amazed for a while, saw at once two persons, eacli seemingly his son. The king, at lust liilly satisfied, oflcred ini- N0 29. THE GLEANER. 239" mense riches to Florio for his great services; which he modestly refused, and only requested of the king, the favour of permitting his brother Braminto to continue in the employment he held in his court. As for himself, he was ap- prehensive of the inconstancy of fortune, of the envy of mankind, and of his own weaknesses; and therefore he desired he might have leave to retire to his native village, and live with his jnother; where he applied himself to till th^ ground. As he was labouring in the fields, the fairy came to him again : she shewed him the cavern where his father lay confined, and taught him certain words, which he should pronounce to break the enchantment and deliver Mm. He pronounced the words with a sensible pleasure ; he delivered his father, whom he had long wished to set free, with the utmost impatience : moreover, he gave him wherewithal to pass his old age comfortably. He was likewise kind to all his relations ; and had the pleasure of shewing himself a benefactor to every man who had endeavoured to injure him. Notwithstanding Florio had performed the most signal services for the court, he petitioned for no other recompence but the liberty to live a stranger to its vices and corruptions. And, 240 THE GLEANER. NO. 29. as the most extraordinary instance of his wis- dom, he was afraid lest the ring should tempt him to quit his privacy, and engage him again in public affairs. Under this uneasiness, he re- turned to the wood, where the fairy had ap- peared so favourable to him, in hopes to find her. He went day after day to the cave where he first saw her in the morning. At last, she presented herself to him, and he gave back the enchanted ring to her. " I return you (said he) your gift, which is as dangerous as it is va- luable ; a gift, which, I fear, it is impossible not to abuse. I shall never think my happiness secured, while I wear a temptation to quit my solitude, with so ample a power to gratify all my passions.'* In the mean time, Braminto, whose wicked disposition was not changed, abandoned him- self to the malice of his heart, and used every artifice to engage the young prince (who was now king) to persecute Florio in his retire- ment. The fairy, knowing his practices, said, "Your incorrigible brother studies to render you suspected by the new king, and to work your ruin. He deserves to be punished, and he shall perish in his wickedness. I will give him the ring which you return to me." Florio bewailed the iniquity of his brother, and said to the XO. 29. THE GLEANER. 241 fairy ; " How do you propose to punish him j when you give him so miraculous a present?"- " He will abuse it (answered the fairy); he will employ the virtues of it to distress all good men, and to acquire unlimited power. The gifts (continued she) which are a blessing to some, prove a curse to others : prosperity is the source of misfortunes to the vicious : the most effectual means to punish an unjust man se- verely, and to hasten his destruction, is to raise him to an eminent degree of power." The fairy went instantly to the palace, where 1she found Braminto meditating mischief in his closet. She disclosed herself to him under the appearance of an old woman, poorly habited; and said to him^ " I have conveyed away from your brother the miraculous ring I lent him, with \vhich he performed such wonders, and acquired so much glory : I bestow it on you, and advise you to make ii proper use of it." Braminto replied, with a smile, " I shall not abuse your gift, like my brother, who foolishly employed it to restore the prince, when he tnight have reigned in his place." Braminto, now in possession of the ring, ap- plied himself to discover the secrets of families; to perpetrate treasons, murders, villanies ; to overhear the counsels of the king, and to de- yoL. I. R 242 THE GLEANER. NO. 29* fraud private persons of their treasures. His invisible crimes astonished the whole nation. The king, perceiving all his secrets discovered, was at a loss to know how to remedy the in- conveniency : but, the surprising affluence, and the uncontrollable insolence of Braminto, made him suspect that he had his brother's enchant- ed ring. He, therefore, employed a foreigner of a hostile nation to detect him; whom he en- couraged with a considerable bribe. This man came to Braminto by night; he offered him im- mense riches and the highest honours in the enemy's country, if he would employ proper spies to betray the counsels of the king. Braminto readily assented to the proposal, and was carried privately to a merchant (em- ployed for the purpose), who advanced him an hundred thousand pieces of gold for his in- tended treasons. Braminto, to convince them of the services he was able to perform, boasted that he had a ring which rendered him invi- sible when he pleased. The next morning the king sent for him ; and, as soon as he came into his presence, ordered him to be seized. The ring was immediately taken from him, and papers found upon him that proved many of his crimes. Florio came to court to intercede for hh brother's pardon ; but could not prevail. 1^6. 29. THE GLEANER. 243 Braminto was put to death. So the ring proved more fatal to him, than it had been advantage- ous to his brother. The king, thinking to comfort Florio for the justice executed on his wicked brother, restored the ring to him, as the most inestimable pre- sent he could make him. The afflicted Florio judged otherwiscj and went again to seek after the fairy in the forest. " Receive (said he) your ring : the fate of my brother has fully ex- plained to me what I did not so clearly com.- prehend from your words. Keep for ever from me the detestable instrument of my brother's ruin. Alas! he might still have lived; he would not have overwhelmed his father and his mo- ther with sorrow and disgrace in their old age; he might, perhaps, in time have grown a wise and a happy man, had he never had it in his power to gratify his unreasonable desires. How dangerous a trust is unbounded power ! Take back your ring : wrctclied are they on whom you shall bestow it! One favour only I earnestly request never give it to any of my friends." Frbe.Thinkeu^ Nos. 109, and 110, April 6, and 10, 171 f". R 2 244 THE GLEANER. NO* 30> No. XXX. Suave, mari magno turbantibus aequora vehtis, E terra magnum alterios spcctare laborem I Non, quia vexari quemquam est jocunda voluptas ; Scd, quibns ipse malis caveas, quia cernere suave est t LlJCRETlDSi How sweet, to stand, when tempests t; ar the main^ Oil the firm clifT, and mark the seaman's toil ! Not, that another's danger sooths the soul ; But, from such toil how sweet to feel secure ! Good. The sea is the most vast of all the visible ob^* jects of nature : and when the wind adds dis- turbance and motion, to its immensity, there is nothing that seems so dreadfully proportioned to the greatness of its almighty Creator ! Yet, as the art of the painter gives us a sensible delight from the representation of prospects, of crea- tures, or of actions, which in their natures are productive of horror ; so w^e are never more pleased by any descriptions in poetry, than by those which set before us the strongest and liveliest pictures of shipwrecks and storms at sea: whcthcr.lt is, that the soul exults and prides itself in a consciousness of its own capacity to move and conceive so greatly j or, that we derive a sharper taste and enjoy- NO. SO, THE GLEANER. 245 ment of our own safety, from a comparison with those represented dangers. All the poets, ancient and modern, have been fond of raising tempests ; wherein, for the most part, their own time has been cast away: for they have scattered and weakened the ter- ror they designed to increase, by throwing to- gether all the images that occurred, rather than selecting the most essential and impressive. By means of which perplexing and inconsistent variety, their reader's imagination finds relief, from not clearly discerning their object through the dust which they have raised about it. It has been observed by the admirers of Homer, that there is a similitude between his manner of thinking, and that of David and Solomon, and others of the Hebrew writers, who owed their excellence to the inspiration of the Holy Spirit. Methinks this remark, which is much to the honour of that immortal Greek, may gather some new force, if we consider Homer's description of a tempest (which Lon- ginus was so justly charmed with), and compare it with that of David in the 107th psalm, which has often been mentioned with wonder by the critics of our own and foreign nations. Both the versions are new j but both tlie originals are inimitable. I begin with that of the Psalmist, 246 THE GLEANER. NO. 30. They who in ships the sea's vast depths descend, And o'er the watry world tlieir passage bend ; They (more than all) tlieir God's great works discern. And midst th' unfathom'd deep his wonders learn. There, from smooth calms, on sudden storms they rise ; Hang on the horrid surge, and skim the skies! Now, high as heav'n they climb their dreadful way ; Now, sink in gulphy slants, and lose the day I Giddy, they reel to shoot the frightful steep ; And their souls melt amid the sounding sweep ! Helpless, they cling to what supports them first. And o'er tliem feel the breaking billoMS burst. Then, to their last Almighty hope they cry ; Who hears, and marks them with a pitying eye : He bids the storm be hush'd the winds obey, And the aw'd waves in silence shrink away ! Now follows Homer, Avitli a terror and a ma- jesty which leave it almost doubtful to which of these great poets the victory should be ascribed : but certain, beyond all question, that no other has equalled cither of them. O'er the broad sea the driving tempest spreads, And sounding surges swell tlieir sweeping heads. Upwards, innnensc, the liquid mountains flow, And shade tlie distant ship that climbs below! Down her wasli'd decks the whit'ning foam rolls o'er. And the big blasts thro' bursting canvass roar! Back shrink the sailors from the briny grave, And sec pale Death press close on every wave \ K-O. 30. THE GLEANER. 247 We see here no time lost in enumerating little particulars : all the great and striking cir- cumstances are thrown forward in their proper lights ; but nothing is added that can either diminish or distract the apprehension. I have placed these two admirable descriptions thus opposite to each other, that some of our fashi- onable applauders of Homer may see his sub- limity more than matched in the works of a poet they have seldom heard of; and that they who are justly his admirers, may find cause to esteem him yet more, by observing how near he comes to one whom God was pleased after a peculiar manner to inspire and delight in. While I am upon this subject, it falls natu- rally in my way to recollect a letter that was lately sent me by a gentleman, wlio writ the particulars of the story from the mouth of a person who was himself an eye-witness. Sir, You appear, by some of your writings, to be so heartily a lover of the trade and prosperity of your country, that I persuade myself you must of necessity be a well-wisher to the ho- nest sailors : a set of men, who, at the continual hazard of their lives, contribute their toil and their skill to the power and grandeur of the 248 THE GLEANER. NO. 30 nation ; and who, allowing themselves no lei- sure for luxury, furnish means, notwithstanding, to maintain the luxury of other people. The sailors, to be short, are a race of open-hearted, gallant thinkers, who retain the plainness, the uncorrupted sincerity, and blunt species of virtue, which distinguished our fore-fathers, and which Old England has so often triumphed by, in times whose customs we rather admire than imitate. Whatever therefore relates, in a very extraordinary manner, to the good or ill fortune of any of this useful and worthy race of your kindred plain-dealers, I promise myself you will take pleasure to distinguish, by allow- ing it a place in your paper. The ship Bouevia, of London, of burthen about two hundred and fifty tons. Captain Brooks commander, set sail from the coast of Holland, on the twenty-fifth of November last ; having two pilots, one English, and the other Dutch ; and his wife was on board with him. The day had been fair and clear; but in the evening, about six, it blew hard at south and by west. The gale increased into a violent storm, and continued for about seven hours, veering to the west, and north and by west ; during which the ship was stranded off Enchuysen, NO. 30. THE GLEANER. 249 in the Texel. In order to save themselves, if possible, the men all got into the long-boat, and were just ready to put off; but not having their captain among them, they called to him to hasten down, because the sea ran so high that it broke over the boat, and endangered her beating to pieces against the sides of the stranded vessel. The captain, in this nice and perilous point of time, recollecting that his wife was sea-sick in the cabin, could not bear the un- generous thought of endeavouring to save him- self without her, and was earnestly labouring to bring her along with him. But she, who had heard the men cry out that the boat would sink under the weight of two persons more, embrac- ed him passionately, and refused to go. She wept, and told him, in the most moving manner, that a w^oman in such an extremity would prove a dangerous incumbrance. She implored him not to think of dividing his care, but to employ it all for preservation of his single life, much dearer to her than her own was. For some time he pressed her in vain ; but prevailed with her at length to come up with him upon deck ; where the first observation they made was, that the boat was out of sight ; having been beaten off by the force of the swell that rose between her and the vessel. 250 THE GLEANER. KO. 30. He was gazing speechless on her face, in a despair which he found no words to utter, when a billow, breaking over the midship, w^ashed him headlong into the sea, and left her shrieking and alone behind him, in a condition so far less supportable than his, that, after a succession of the bitterest outcries, she fell forward in a swoon, and sunk senseless after him. The boat, in the mean time, endeavoured to return to the ship, and passing providentially near their captain, who was yet faintly swim- ming, the men discerned him in the sea, and took him up quite spent and speechless ; in which condition they laid him in the bottom of the boat, and coming along the ship's side, one of the sailors looking up, saw something like a woman, with her arms and clothes en^ tangled in the shrowds. This woman was the captain's wife, who, in the moment of her falling forward, had been saved and supported against that part of the rigging ! She w^as still in a swoon, and insen- sible, but so beloved by the mariners, that they redoubled their efforts to get aboard, tliat they might have it in their power to save her ; and they were so fortunate in their humanity, that they found means to lift her into the boat j JJO. 30. THE GLEANER. 251 where they laid her, dead in all appearance, by her husband, who was in the same condition. They put off again, and with great difficulty got ashore upon one of the islands in the Texel, where the captain, coming to himself, told his men, that they would have done more kind- ly had they let him perish in the sea, since the life they had forced upon him must for ever be imbittered by her unhappy end, for whose sake only he had thought it worth wishing for. His wife was now recovering, and near enough to hear and answer this noble instance of his tenderness. They flew, astonished and quite lost in ecstacy, into each other's arms ; and it is easier to imagine than describe what they thought and said on so transporting an occa- sion! Let me only add, that this relation was faith- fully taken from the mouth of a gentleman, who was an eye-witness of the miraculous and providential particulars. I am, Sir, Your most humble Servant. rLAi.N-DfiALEK, No. 88, Jan. 22, \T25. 252 THE GLEANER. NO. 31. No. XXXI. Dissolve frigus, ligna super foco Large reponens, HORATIUS. Now melt away the winter's cold, And larger pile the cheerful fire. Francis. Sir, It has been often disputed among the philoso- phers, in what part of the body the soul is seated. It will not be thought, I hope, a less important inquiry, to examine what external scenes call lier forth into action ; whether her virtues open fairest in the sunshine, or the shade; in the closet, or the usual seat indeed of intrigue, the bed-chamber. The old sages were content, like ignoble sportsmen, to surprize her in her last retreat, the pineal gland: I follow her in her strongest efforts, whether she is pursued by want, or in pursuit of fame. The ancient poets, who are generally sup- posed to be the greatest masters of thought, at- tributed their happy exercise of it to their great patron, the sun : that they might enjoy his kind influences the freer, we find them quitting the smoke and riches of the city, for some country NO. 31. THE GLEANER. 253 retirement, where they might temper the directer rays, with coohng breezes, . shady groves, purl- ing streams, and melody of birds ; where they might behold nature without disguise, and copy her without interruption ; where they might at once earn their laurels, and gather them. Our Northern poets think themselves war- ranted, at all adventures, to follow their great originals ; who yet, from the difference of cli- mate as well as circumstances, seem to stand in little need of such cooling refreshments. It would make one smile, if it were not barbarous to smile upon such an occasion, to see them, beyond even poetical fiction, invoking the gen* tie gales, while they are shivering under the bleak north-east, or at best when Lull'd by Zephyrs thro' a broken pane. According to their own system, we have not above four poetical months throughout the year; and yet, 'tis well known, we have verse as well as peas in all seasons; and 'tis an impo- sition upon our taste and judgment to make us believe, that either of them are the effects of a natural shade and sun. In short, an Italian ge- nius may be produced by a happy mixture of both ; but a British one must be owing to some other cause, more generally adequate to so great 254 THE GLEANER. NO. 31, a production; and what can that be but the invigorating warmth of the chimney-corner ? Here the poet may indulge the overflowing of his nature, and satisfy the wants of it : instead of bubbling streams, he is delighted with the gal- lopping of the pot ; and, as I hinted before of the crown of laurel, may first earn his dinner, and then eat it. I know not whether it is from these vivifying qualities of the fire-side, that it has been re- marked, there is a sort of antipathy between that and the sun ; as if the poet's tutelary god were sensible of the force of this earthly rival, and therefore exerted all his power to its de- struction. I have often wondered why our writers should not sometimes lay the scene of their poems where in reality they took their rise. The fire is surely capable of the most surprizing imagery, by being diversified (if the poet pleases) with sei*pents, crackers, rockets, and the like short- lived gay creation of combustibles. These, Mr. Addison has somewhere observed, are abun- dantly capable of fable and design; and, to our modern poets, arc no less full of moral. Those that have not Italian fancy for fine prospects and latent ruins, may by this means perpetuate their names (like the wiser Dutch) in some over- NO. 31. THE GLEANER. 255 glowing night-piece. I myself, methinks, am enamoured with my subject, and ready, with Sir John Denham, to make it an example of just writing, as well as the theme ; for, lo ! my chimney affords me A happy temperature of heat and light, Warm without rage, and without glaring bright, But I confine not my observations to the poets alone ; I appeal to composers of all deno- minations, whether a brisk fire and a clean swept hearth have not brightened their imaginations, produced ideas like a kind of hot-bed, and made them amazed at their own fecundity. 'Tis farther observable, in confirmation of my hypothesis, that the press labours most with the productions of the brain in the winter season, which seems to be the seed-time of wit, and at once (so quick is its growth) the harvest of it. The reason is, no doubt, because our writers, who are generally of tender constitutions, though of active spirits, are then under a sort of domes- tic confinement from the severity of the wea- ther, and indulge themselves in the only liberty they have left them the free use of pen, ink, and paper. In the open fields tlicir spirits arc too much dissipated J but, collected in their cham- 256 THE GLEANER. NO. 51* ber,are restored by the warmth of the fire to their proper motion and elasticity. The souls, espe- cially of our controversial and political writers, it is well known, are much allied to gun-* powder ; they lose their force by too great an ex- pansion ; but kindled by the least spark of fire, they burst from their garrets with surprising re- port, to the great terror of a prime minister, or joy of a pastry-cook, and demolish a kingdom, or support a pye. The country, a few months in summer, has un-* doubtedly its charms ; but those who have been locked up, like vegetables, the rest of the year, are then glad to shoot out in all their gaudy co- lours, and attend to the exercises of the body, rather than of the mind. Though they laugh at the absurdity of following a spaniel up to the knees in snow, they can now with pleasure move obsequious to a jack on a bowling-green. The country is then the scene of action, and nature too luxuriant to herself to permit others to be sedate ; so that, I believe, the lively descrip- tions we meet with of rural pleasures, are of^ tener written from a remembrance, than under the actual enjoyment of them, as most are said to draw up their travels when they are come home. Italy has received improvements from classic reading, which the classic ground never NO. SI. THE GLEANER. 257 afforded; and the terrors of ^^tna have been heightened by the smoke of Newcastle. The robust, the busy, or unthinking part of the world, perhaps, are little sensible of the at- tractives of the hearth ; but the men of specu- lation, the only men of authority in the point be- fore us, look upon it as their most comfortable retreat. Wearied with the fatigues, or, what is worse, the impertinences of the day, they re- tire to their ow^n home, as the mind does into her own breast, and solace themselves in the most cheerfid part of it. Disguise and restraint are here laid aside, and the soul as well as the body appears the more beautiful for its disha- bille. That quintessence of earthly happiness, which, in warmer climates, was expressed by sitting un- der one's own vine, is with us more sensibly felt by one*s own fire-side. The Romans, though they received less benefit from culinary fire than we do, yet paid to it tlie greatest veneration ; they had not only a public temple dedicated to the goddess of it, but the hearth in each house was peculiarly sacred to the Penates. Our old women retain still some marks of that superstition, who read the fates of fa- milies from a coal, and see a cofKn or purse jump out, just as their fears or their hopes arc VOL. L s 258 THE GLEANER. NO. 31, uppermost ; all which, though it shews the weak- ness of their brain, yet proves how much adapt- ed the fire-side is to promote contemplation. But the fire is not only a friend to us in soli- tude ; it is noted, to a proverb, to be always so in company; it brings us to a nearer converse with one another, by which means it promotes reconcilement between enemies, and mirth and society between friends. There is a sort of sul- lenness in the tempers of the English, which the fire softens as it does metals, and renders fit for use. How often has there been a room full of visitants, who could not furnish out an hour's conversation, for no other reason but because most of them were at too great a distance from the fire : the same assembly, brought into closer order, and nearer the grate, has proved wonder- ful good company : it has reminded me of the dogs in a chace (I hope I shall be pardoned my comparison), who open with less frequency when they spread round the field at first setting out ; but when the game is started, and they have all one point in view, they run united in full cry. While I am speaking in praise of a sedentary life, I am not afraid to draw comparisons from the pleasures of the most active. Our fire-side dis- pels no less the gloominess of the brow, and throws upon the countenance not only the glo\v- NO. 31. THE GLEANER. 259 ing ruddiness of youth, but its cheerfulness. Here I have seen a gay semicircle of ladies re- semble the beauties of the rainbow, without its tears ; and at other times, a galaxy of white aprons more enlivening than all the blue in the brightest sky. The bottle, which is generally supposed the greatest cement of good fellowship, occasions too often a turbulent kind of mirth ; it is an opium to distempered brains, which puts them into strong agitations for a time, and then into as strong a sleep; whereas true spirits want no such invigorating helps. But I need say no worse of that treacherous friend to society, than that it excludes one sex from its company ; and yet, united with that sex by the fire-side, how se- rene are our pleasures, and how innocent! We have laughter without folly, and mirth without noise : thereby reflecting the beams of the sunny bank before us, we make the chimney-corner, I will not say, in Cicero's expression, the forge of wit, but in our modern philosophical term, the focus of it. I know very well I speak in belialf of the fire- side to some disadvantage, at a time when we are going to be less sensible of its charms ; but our inclinations towards it discover themselves very visibly at parting. How late in the year do we bring ourselves to forego so endearing a s 2 260 THE GLEANER. * NO. 31. sight! And is not that month generally most fatal that threatens us with a divorce from it ? How cheerfully, after four months' absence, which we ill sustain, do we run again to the embraces of our truest, our winter friend ! For my part, these thoughts flow from a sense of gratitude for the past pleasure it has afforded me : whatever other effects they may have upon the reader, they will convince the fair-one, I hope, of my con^ stancy, and that I am not too much disposed to worship the rising sun. From my fire-side, March 1. Universal Spectator, vol. iil. p. 37. The subject of" this paper, and the mode in Avhich it is treated, are both pleasing : but, perhaps, no modern writer has spoken with so much feeling and enthusiasm of the plea- sures of a winter evening, and the comforts of the domestic fire-side, as our lamented Cowper. I am tempted to add s, few of these interesting sketches. Now stirtlie fire, and close the sliuttrrs fast, Let fall tlu'cuvlains, wheel the sofa round, And wliile the hubblinj:^ and loiid-Iiifsinsr urn Tlirows up abteamy column, and the cups, That clieer hut not inebriate, wait on each, So let us welcome j)eaceful ev'ning in. Oh, "Winter! ruler of th' inverted year, 1 crown tiiee king of intimate delights, I'ire-'-ide enjoymenfs home-born happiness. And all tlie comforts that tlie lowly roof Of uiidistui l)"d relireinent, and the hours Of ioiig uninterrupted ev'ning, know, NO. 81. THE GLEANER. 261 Me, perhaps. The glowing hearth may satisfy awhile With faint illumination, that uplifts The shadow to the cieling, there by fits Dancing uncouthly to the quiv'ring flame. Not undelightful is an hour to me So spent in parlour twilight : such a gloom Suits well the thoughtful or unthinking mind ; The mind contemplative witii some new theme Pregnant, or indisposed alike to all. Thus oft, reclin'd at ease, I lose an hour At ev'ning; till at length the freezing blast, That sweeps the bolted shutter, summons home The recollected pow'rs, and snapping short The glassy threads with which the fancy weaves Her brittle toys, restores me to myself. How calm is my recess! and how the frost, Raging abroad, and the rough wind, endear The silence and the warmth enjoy 'd within ! Task, book iv. 263 THE GLEANER. NOr32. No. XXXII. There is nothing which lies more within tbe province of a Spectator, than public shows and diversions ; and as, among these, there are none which can pretend tr> vie with those elegant entertainments that are exhi- bited in our theatre, I think it particularly incum- bent on nie to take notice of every thing that m remarkable in such numerous and refined assemblies. Spect. Xo. 235, Sir, The above lines are the introduction to a paper written by the late Mr. Addison, on certain sig- nificant hints given to him from the upper gallery at the play-house, by your humble servant, then a person of great distinction, and much talked of ever since : but, by reason of my long retirement from my old sphere of action, at present very little known, and by most people believed to have died of grief, soon after the last double constel- lation of admirable poets and actors disappeared for ever. In brief. Sir, I am the critical Trunk- maker, so humorously celebrated in that excel- lent paper before quoted : well-stricken in years, 'tis true ; but, except my feci, which are for the best part of the winter inflanneled for the gout, sufficiently master of all my faculties, both to NO. 32. THE GLEANER. ^6S make my will without the help of a lawyer ; and die, when God pleases, without paying the usual fees for my quietus to a physician. And now, Sir, you know who I am, without any farther ceremony we'll proceed to business ; which is indeed no more than to lay before you a relation of some late adventures that I have been engaged in, leaving it to you to make what use or application of them you think proper. Be pleased then. Sir, to understand, that though I have in a manner deserted the theatre for some years past, I yet retain a grateful re- membrance of the pleasures I have received there ; and, with whatever company I mix, never fail to turn the stream of conversation on dramatical entertainments, the merits of authors and performers, and what remarkable events attended the representation of our most admired pieces. I have always observed, Sir, these moments used to be the happiest of the evening ; every countenance was gay, every eye benevolent, and every heart open. If any difference of opinion appeared, it was softened with address and good-manners; if any points of wit escaped, they were not dipt in gall or envenomed with spleen ; and whether a slight skirmish, or a set battle followed, like the Trojan youths that I have read of in Dryden's 264 THE GLEANER. NO. 32. Virgil, our very opposition was friendly, and no dishonest wound smarted when 'twas over. I say. Sir, this used to be uniformly the scene during those delectable moments. But I must own the case has been somewhat altered of late, and the stage is seldom mentioned, but the licensing- actisobtruded at the same time; and immediately, as if the very word was a charm, discord rushes in, and politics and ill-nature divide in rage, and sadden the whole company. However, Sir, this did not deter me this Christmas from inviting a party of my old friends to take a dinner with me in form, by way of anniversary compliment to the season ; and, when 'twas over, I began, as usual, my favourite subjects ; and expatiated at large on the irresistible genius of our inimitable Shak- speare, the finished art of laborious Jonson, the luxuriant vein of easy Fletclier, the wild irregular flights of wanton Buckingham, and brilliant points of all-accomplished Dryden, the dissolving tenderness of pathetic Otway, tlie passionate starts of extravagant Lee, the sullen rebukes of imperious Wycherley, the polished scenes of elegant Congreve, the insinuating dialogue of frolic Vanburgli ; and, in short, every other excellence of every other favourite author. Thence we made a natural transition XO. 32. THE GLEANER. 265 to the stage itself, and passed all its late orna- ments in imaginary review before us : majestic Booth, facetious Dogget, bewitching Oldfield, correct Porter, agreeable Wilks, and many- gifted Gibber : nor did we confine ourselves to these, but touched on the subordinate as well as the chief, the living as well as the dead; mixing praise with blame, pity with reproach ; but confining our remarks wholly to their feigned characters, and leaving to themselves their own. By this time, Sir, I was worked up to such a pitch, that,forgettingmyyearsandinfirmities,Irosefrom my seat with the vigour of thirty, and, stepping to an adjacent closet, brought ouc an armful of oaken plants that I religiously reserve as monu- ments of theatrical triumphs. " There, gentle- men (said I, throwing them on the ground), there are the precious relics of my upper gallery dicta- torship ! these six in a bundle, that are worn to tiie very stumps,! demolished during the first run of Cato, in compliment to the noble sentiments of the author; not, as some foolishly imagined, in return of the praises he had been pleased to honour me with before. 'Tis true, bribes have been offered me both by managers and authors ; but I soon gave them to understand, that if they persisted in the affront, I should use my battoon ^66 THE GLEANER. NO. 32. in a quite different way. This, gentlemen (I went on), that is shattered quite up to the head, was bestowed on Booth, representing Pyrrhus, in the Distressed Mother. These knotted crab-sticks flew in applauding the romantic delicacy of the Conscious Lovers; and these, the truly feminine sweetness and heroic resignation of Jane Gray. Yon two large faggots, labelled Shakspeare and Jonson, are the collec- tions of several years ; and, what is remarkable, there is not one serviceable stick among them. These two enabled me to do justice to Mariamne ; and these four lasted me pretty well through the first appearance of the Provoked Husband. This I began to exercise on the Beggar's Opera; but when the nobility filled the stage, I left the gallery. With this I disciplined Mrs. Oldiield, in Sophonisba; and with its fellow, both of the same growth, Mrs. Porter, in Eurydice. The rest are miscellaneous, and they belong, some to authors, some to performers ; but (to deal ingenuously) are little the worse for wearing. Ah ! Gentlemen, 'twas with extreme regret I left my post ; which, let me tell you, I filled with so much disinterested- ness, that the less ex])ense it put me to, the more I was displeased with it : in short, I never was so hai)py as when I had threshed away a NO. 32. THE GLEANER. 267 good substantial sapling to the size of a tooth- picker. But when I fouivd the office little better than a sine-cure, I made a matter of conscience of it, and(to the shame of my betters!) laid down : from which time the seat has con- tinued vacant, few being ambitious of an employ that is both troublesome and expensive into the bargain. However, gentlemen, had I but the least hope, could I discover but the faintest glimmering, ever so remote, of a second dawn of genius on the stage, I would make no difficulty, old as I am, to lend a helping hand however. I remember my honoured friend, the original Spectator, speaking of me, is pleased to observe, * that it is of great use to an audience for a person to preside over their heads, like the director of a concert, in order to awaken their attention, and beat time to their applause.* ** I was going on, Sir, with this speech, when one of those flashy young fellows who pique them- selves on knowing the town, and who made one at my table on the credit of my long and inti- mate acquaintance with the good man his father, broke in upon me with a full tide of noisy loquacity, pretty much in the following phrase and manner : " Why, look you, as to that. Old True-penny, you may save yourself the labour : that office, now, like many others, is wholly super- 268 THE GLEANER. NO. 52. fluous : and should you presume to lay about you as formerly with your impertinent cudgel, *tis ten to one but you would be tossed over. I*d have you to know we have no need of any such prompter above stairs, to rap out a cue for us to thunder below; we are all become staunch critics, every man of us, look you; and by a much easier receipt than ever was known to our fathers : for whereas they dared not open their mouths without Aristotle, Horace, or, at least, some modern Frenchman, for a second; a broad hat, a little wig, a close frock, and a good oaken plant, make the least of us more terrible to the stage than Dennis himself Again, one Trunk-maker, forsooth, ruled the roast in those times; whereas, now-a-days, you would think the whole worshipful company was at work all round the liouse, pit, box, and gallery ! Yes, we scorn to sneak into corners, or clamour only with the mob, but boldly press forward into the most distinguislied places, and mingle with those of tlie best rank in tlic kingdom. I myself ha^c led a party into tlic pit, that has had the honour to clear the whole stage betbre tliem, and all the boxes behind them. Then, as to the dcmolfshmcnt of cudgels, I made a purchase of half a hundred this very season ; and though they proved to be as good stuff as ever was handled. NO. 32. THE GLEANER. 269 this is the last of them. In plain truth, we have raised the price of this sort of ware above live-and- twenty per cent, and I do not question, but, before the end of May, it will be hard to get a cudgel of any substance for love or money. But why do I talk of cudgels only ? benches, sconces, every thing that we can lay our hands on, go to wreck, without fear of wit, when we have a mind to shew our plenitude of power. And let me see the manager who dares to say to the meanest of us, what doest thou ?" Here, Sir, though not a little nettled all the while at his arrogant manner, I ventured to interpose : " But pray, young man, to answer what end is all this violence ? Is it to banish folly, absurdity, self-conceit, indecorum, barbarism, or dulness, from the stage ? Is it in behalf of any injured genius ? Is it to revive departed wit ? Is it to provoke ingenuous emulation ? Is it to restore the lost importance, dignity, and majesty of the Enghsh theatre?" "Pshaw! (replies my vspark) I don't know what you talk of: 'tis to restore king Harlequin." " How! (said I, with a mixture of warmth and concern) is this all ? Is it for this that the very temple of the Muses, as one may call it, is filled with noise and tumult i* Is it for this that good- manners are forgotten, order violated, greatness insulted, and eveu 270 THE GLEANER. NO. 32. beauty frighted, where it ought to be adored ? For shame ! for shame ! Though I am pleased to see you have power, though I should even recommend the exercise of it now and then, I would have it guided by discretion and propriety, and never employed to disturb, but polish and reform. You have now an opportunity to be instrumental in exalting the British stage to a rivalship with that at Athens. The opera (that syren enemy !) sleeps ; the French inmates are returned home ; all ranks and degi'ees of people shew a greater fondness for diversions of this kind than ever; and, on your evidence, they are better understood. Shall this great opportunity then be lost ? Shall you manifest your power in clamour and tyranny only, regardless of justice and decency ? Or in making it the tool of little factions behind the scenes, when it ought to discourage the least appearance of any such bar to your diversions? Shall it be said, the gentlemen critics of this age ruined the theatre, by their cabals in favour of a trifling harlequin, when even the ladies made contributions in honour of immortal Shakspearc ? You may shew your influence by tliis means, for what I can tell ; but they, their understanding ; and which con- duct best deserves applause, I leave the world to judge." Here, Sir, I paused; and the young NO. 32. THE GLEANER. 271 gentleman looking a little abashed, I turned my discourse to another subject : but thinking what had passed was of some consequence, I resolved to send a hasty sketch of it to you ; and, with your approbation, I shall henceforward take the liberty of becoming your correspond- ent ; for since it is in a manner impossible to be heard in a play-house, I have a mind to try what hope there is from the press ; being very sin- cerely, Sir, Your humble Servant, The Trunk-maker. Universal Spectator, vol. iii. p. 282. 272 THE GLEANER. UO. 33. No. XXXIIL Fidemqui perdit, nihil potest ultra perdere: Bona opinio homini tutior pecunia est. PUBL. Strcs. He who hath lost his integrity hath nothing farther to lose ; Reputation is more valuable to man than wealthu Cha- Abbas, king of Persia, making a progress through his dominions, withdrew himself one day from his court, led by his curiosity to see the sim- ple natural life of the peasants ; taking with him only one of his courtiers. " I have never yet had an opportunity (says the king to him) to observe the manners of men in a true light : what I have hitherto seen has been all disguise; the simpli- city of nature has been hidden from me : there- fore I have resolved to look into the country, and to consider those people whom we despise, notwithstanding they are the foundation and support of society. I am weary of being perpe- tually surrounded by courtiers, who Match my looks and my words to ensnare me with flattery. Be not surprized then that I have determined to lay aside the king for a time, that I may con- verse, freely and unknown, with husbandmen and shepherds. NO. 33. THE GLEANER. 273 He passed through several villages with his confident, and in every place as he passed he found the people dancing. His heart was ra- vished with delight; upon discovering the cheap, innocent, peaceable pleasures, which are not to be found but at a distance from courts. He went into a hut to refresh himself; and, as through fasting and exercise his appetite was keen, he made a delicious repast, and relished the coarse fare that was laid before him beyond the delicacies of his own table. From the little green hut, Cha- Abbas wan- dered on with his companion, till he came to a meadow richly embroidered with flowers, and shaded on every side with spreading trees. He had not entered far into this luxuriant scene, when he heard the murmur of a brook ; and, advancing forward, he perceived a young shep- herd sitting on the bank of a stream, under the cool shade of a beech-tree, and playing on his pipe, while his flock fed along the fresh margin. The king came up to him, and, attentively eye- ing him, was surprised at the sweetness and in- genuity of his countenance, tempered with a graceful simplicity. The mean apparel of the youth did not abate his comeliness, and the king took him for some young nobleman in dis- guise. Hereupon the shepherd informed him, VOL. I, T 274 THE GLEANER. NO. 53. that his father and his mother lived in the next village, and that his name was Alibez. The more Cha- Abbas discoursed with him, the more he admired the modesty and the just- ness of his answers. His eyes were lively with- out the least fierceness, his voice was sweet and insinuating, and his features were neither harsh nor vulgar, nor yet soft and effeminate. The shepherd, who was not above sixteen years of age, was unconscious of his own advantageous form, and suspected not that his person, his speech, and his tlioughts, were extraordinary, or peculiar more to him than to all the other swains of the village. But nature had been liberal to him, and had implanted that force of reason in his mind, which others acquire by education. The king was charmed with conversing fami- liarly with him, and often smiled at the natural expressions of the youtli, whose answers were unconstrained, his lips speaking the 1 uiguage of his heart ; a style of conversation whicli, till then, the king had never heard. Wherefore he made a sign to the courtier, his conij)aniou, not to discover liim ; fearing that Alibez would im- mediately lose all his frankness and his natural graces, if he knew before whom he spoke. After a long conversation," I am at last con- vinced (said the prince to his confident) that XO. 33. THE OLEANEB. 27.5 the perfections of nature are not confined to birtli and grandeur, and tliat the monarch is not always superior to the peasant. Never was the son of a king better born than this young shepherd. I should think myself happy in a son, whose beauty, M'liose sense, and whose virtues, were equal to the rare endowments I have ob- served in this youth. If I judge aright, he would excel in any condition of life ; and if })roper care be taken of his education, he will undoubtedly one day prove an extraordinary man : therefore I am determined to rescue him from obscurity, and to educate him in my court/' Hereupon the king disclosed himself to Ali- bcz ; whose countenance was agreeably varied with confusion, with surprize, and with joy. His parents consenting, Clia-Abbas took the lovely youth into his care, and returned to his palace. Alibez was taught to read and to write, to dance and to sing ; and had masters ap- pointed to instruct him in all the arts and sci- ences which embellish and improve the under- standing. He was at first dazzled with the splen- keeper of all his jewels and costly furniture; a post of great honour and trust in Persia. Free-Tuinkeb, No. 128, June 12, 1719, NO* 34. THE GLEANER. 27*/ No. XXXIV. Justura et tenacem propositi virum, Non civium ardor prava jubentium; Non vultus instantis tyranni Mente quatit solida. HORATIUS, The just, wlio firmly keeps his destin'd course, No tyrant's threat'ning frowns control ; No crowd's unjust demands can force, Or shake the steady purpose of his soul. BOSCAWE.V, vViiiLE the great Cha- Abbas lived, Alibez grew daily in the favour of his master. As his years increased, and his judgment ripened, he often called to mind his former condition, with a sen- sible regret. " O, blessed days! (would he say to himself) days of innocence i days in which I relished unintei'ru]}ted joys, not mixed with fears! O day;;! such as J have never since en- joyed : and am I never Ito see the like again ? The monarch who has deprived me of my peace- able hours, by delivering mxC over to riches and honours, has robbed me of my whole store of happiness !" He grew impatient to revisit his native village: and his heart beat with emotions of tenderness, as he vievv^d the places where in his youth he used to dance, to pipe, and to 278 THE GLEANER, j:0. 34-. sing with his companions. He was liberal in bounties to his parents, his relations, and all his acquaintance : but he earnestly entreated them, as they tendered their own felicity, never to quit the tranquillity of a country life, nor ever once to think of experiencing the flattering mi- series of a court. These miseries did he feel in the utmost se- verity, after the death of his kind master, Cha- Abbas ; who was succeeded by his son, Cha- Sephi. A cabal of courtiers, full of envy and artifice, concerted measures to prejudice the prince against Alibcz. " He has abused (said they) the confidence of the late king: he has amassed immense treasures ; and has converted to his own use tlie most valuable jewels of the crown, which were committed to his care." Cha-Sephi was young ; and, at the same time, lie was a monarch : cither of which circum- stances was alone sufiicient to render him credu- lous, inadvertent, and averse to business. He liad the vanity to pride himself upon reforming ail his lather's regulations; and he called the old king's wisdom in question upon all occasions, to magnify liis own. That he might have a pre- text to remove Alibez from his high post, he or- dered him (by the advice of his wicked council- lors) to produce immediately the great scymitar. NO. 34. THE GLEANER. 279 studded with diamonds of an inestimable value, which the king his grand-father used in com- bats. Cha- Abbas, it seems, had formerly taken all the valuable diamonds off from this scymitar; and Alibez proved, by unquestionable witnesses, that the stones had been disposed of by the late king, before he was appointed keeper of the jewels. When the enemies of Alibez found that they could not ruin him by this pretence, they ad- vised Cha-Sephi to command him to make a particular inventory, within fifteen days, of all the jewels and valuable furniture intrusted to his care. The fifteen days expired; Cha-Sephi demanded he might view all the particulars spe- cified in the inventory. Alibez set open all the doors, and shewed him every thing committed to his keeping. There w^as nothing wanting; every thing was ranged in exact order, and pre- served with great care. The king was again disappointed, and greatly surprised when he saw the regularity observed in the disposition of all his treasures ; so that he began to entertain a favourable opinion of Alibez ; when, casting his eye through a long gallery full of rich furniture, he discovered at the end of it an iron door^ strongly barred, with three great locks. There- upon, the invidious courtiers, observing the cu- 280 THE GLEANER. KO. 34* riosity of the king, whispered to him, " It is there Alibez has treasured up all the riches of which he has defrauded you.'* Hereupon, the king again grew jealous of Ali- bez ; and with a loud voice cried out in a rage, " I will instantly see what lies concealed within that strong place ; take off the locks, and clear yourself from my suspicions, without delay." At these words, Alibez threw himself prostrate at the feet of his prince ; conjuring him, in the most solemn manner, not to take from him the only valuable treasure he had upon earth: " It is not equitable (said he) that I should be at once deprived of my whole substance, my sole resource, on which alone I have depended, as my recompence for the services of many years under tlic king your father. Take every thing else, if you please, from m.e, but let me pre- serve what I have treasured here." The king now made no doubt of the iniquity of his minis- ter ; and raising his voice with greater vehe- mence, gave an absolute command to have the iron door set open. When Alibez saw it not safe longer to resist the will of his prince, he produced the keys, and took off the locks him- self from the door. Tlie king immediately entered the strong place ; and nil the wealth he found there v/as a KO. 34-. THE GLEANER. 281 sheep-hook, a pipe, and a shepherd's habit, which Ahbez had worn ; all which he often took a pleasure in visiting privately, to remind him of his former condition. " Behold (said he), great king, the precious remains of my for- mer happiness ! Neither fortune, nor your power, have as yet been able to deprive me of them. Behold my treasure ; the wealth I have hoarded against the day when it shall please you to make me poor again. Take from me every thing else, but let me enjoy these dear pledges of my first state of life. Behold my substantial riches, which will never fail : look upon these simple, these innocent possessions, always suffi- cient for those who do not covet the super- fluities of life. Freedom, ease, and security, are the blessings that flow from them. To me their value is inestimable, as they never gave me a moment's anxiety. O endearing remembrances of true felicity! on you are my whole desires fixed, to you I dedicate the remainder of my days : vvhy was it my destiny to be obliged to give up the quiet of my life, in exchange for other riches ! Those riches, great monarch, do 1 restore to you; the fatal tokens of your fatlier's liberality. I carry nothing away, save what I possessed when the king your father first made me wretched by his favours.'* 282 THE GLEANER. NO. 54-. The heart of the king was touched witli the speech of AHbez, whose looks and words were fi ee from confusion ; and liis integrity and inno- cence shone out in their full lustre. The king perceived with indignation the malice of the courtiers who had studied the ruin of Alibez, and he banislicd them all from his presence. After this, he raised Alibez to be his prime vi- zier, and committed the whole affairs of the kingdom to his care. Nevertheless, Alibez continued still to visit his sheep-hook, his pipe, and his ancient garb, and he still kept them un- der the security of the iron door ; with a reso- lution to retire to his pastoral life, when the in- constancy or the artifices of a court should de- prive him of his master's favour. He lived to a good old age, and never attempted to inflict any punishment upon his enemies, nor to amass riches to himself; and, when he died, he leffc to his family no greater wealth tlian was sufficient to enable them to live at ease in the condition of shepherds ; which, to the last, he esteemed the most desirable state of life. Free.Thinkkr, No. 129, June 15, 1719. I consider this Persian Tale as possessing distinguished me- rit; as exhibiting, togetlier with an excellent moral, a very in- teresting fiction, and no small share of pathos. NO* 33. THE GLEANER. 28' No. XXXY. Nee Coas referunt jam libi purpura?, Nee clari lapides, tempora, quae semel Notis condita fastis : Inclusit volucris dies ! HORATIUS, Vain the diamond's radiant blaze, Vain tiie purple, to restore Youth's bright scenes : those happier days, Borne by fleeting time, are o'e; ! BOSCAWEW The Romans used to say " ex pede Herculem," or " you may know Hercules by his foot ;" in- timating, that one may commonly judge of the whole by a part. I confess I am myself very apt to judge in this manner; and may, without pretending to an uncommon share of sagacity, say, that I have very seldom found myself mis- taken in it. It is impossible not to form to one's self some opinion of people the first time one sees them, from their air and dress; and a suit of clothes has often informed me, with the utmost certainty, that the wearer had not common sense. The Greeks (to display my learning) said lij-xTiov c<.vr,2, or " the dress shews the man:" and it is certain, that, of all trilling things, there is none by which people so much discover their 284 THE GLEANER. NO. 35. natural turn of mind, as by their dress. In greater matters they proceed more cautiously : nature is disguised, and weaknesses are con- cealed, by art, or imitation : but, in dress, they give a loose to their fancy, and by declaring it an immaterial thing, though at the same time they do not think it so, promise themselves at least impunity in their greatest oddnesses and wildest excesses. I shall therefore, in this paper, consider the subject of dress, by certain plain rules of common sense, which I strictly charge and require all persons to observe. As dress is more immediately the province, not to say the pleasure, not to say the care, not to say the whole study, of the fair sex, I make my first application to them ; and I humbly beg their in- dulgence, if the rules I shall lay down should prove a little contrary to those tliey have hitherto prac- tised. There is a proper dress for every rank, age, and figure, which they who deviate from, are guilty of petty treason against common sense : to prevent whicli crime for tlie future, I have some tlioughts of disposing, in proper parts of tlie town, a certain number of babies in the statut- able dress, for eacli rank, age, and figure; which, like tlic 25th Edward III. shall reduce that mat- ter to a ])rccls!()n. Dress, to be sensi!)k\ must be properly adapted NO. 55, THE GLEANER, 285 to the person ; as, in writing, the style must be suited to the subject ; which image may not unaptly be carried on through the several branches of it. I am far from objecting to the magnificence of apparel, in those whose rank and fortune justify and allow it ; on the con- trary, it is a useful piece of luxury, by which the poor and the industrious are enabled to live at the expense of the rich and the idle. I would no more have a woman of quality dressed in Doggrel, than a farmer's wife in Heroics. But I do hereby notify to tlie profuse wives of in- dustrious tradesmen and honest yeonicn, that all they get by dressing above themselves, is the envy and hatred of their inferiors and equals, with the contempt and ridicule of their superiors. To those of the first rank in birth and beauty, I recommend a noble simplicity of dress ; the subject supports itself, and wants none of the borrowed helps of external ornaments. Beau- tiful nature may be disfigured, but cannot be im- proved, ])y art; and as I look upon a very hand- some woman to be the finest subject in nature, her dress ought to be Epic (but the true Virgi- lian Epic), modest, noble, and entirely free from the modern tinsel. I therefore prohibit all ro;/-. cetti, and luxuriances of fancy, which only de- preciate so noble a subject ; and I must do the 286 THE GLEANER. NO. 35. handsomest women I know the justice to say, that they keep the clearest from these extrava- gances. Deha's good sense appears even in her dress, which she neither studies nor neglects; but by a decent and modest conformity to the fashion, equally shuns the triumphant pageantry of an overbearing beauty, or the insolent neg- ligence of a conscious one. As for those of an inferior rank of beauty, such as are only pretty women, and whose charms re- sult rather from a certain air and " je ne scai quoi" in their whole composition, than from any dignity of figure, or symmetry of features ; I al- low them greater licences in their ornaments, because the subject, not being of the sublimest kind, may receive some advantages from the elegancy of style, and the variety of images. I therefore permit them to dress up to all the flights and fancies of the Sonnet, the Madrigal, and such like minor compositions. Flavia may serve for a model of tliis kind : her ornaments are her amusements, not her care : tliough she shines in all the gay and glittering images of dress, the prettiness of the subject warrants all the wantonness of the fancy; and if she owes them a lustre which (it may be) she would not have without them, she returns them graces they could find no where else. NO. 35. THE GLEANER. 287 There is a third sort, who, with a perfect neu- trality of face, are neither handsome nor ugly; and who have nothing to recommend them, but a certain smart and genteel turn of little figure, quick and lively. These I cannot indulge in a higher style than the Epigram, which should be neat, clever, and unadorned ; the whole to lie in the sting and where that lies is unnecessary to mention. Having thus gone through the important ar- ticle of dress, with relation to the three classes of my country-women who alone can be per- mitted to dress at ail ; viz. the handsome, the pretty, and the genteel ; I must add, that this privilege is limited by common sense to a cer- tain number of years, beyond which no woman can be any one of the three. I therefore re- quire, that, when turned of thirty, they abate of the vigour of their dress; and that, when turned of forty, they utterly lay aside all thoughts of it. And as an inducement to them so to do, I do most solemnly assure them, that they may make themselves ridiculous, but never desirable, by it. Wlien they are once arrived at the latitude of forty, the propitious gales are over ; let them gain the first port, and lay aside their rigging. I come now to a melancholy subject, and 288 THE GLEANER. NO. 35. upon which the freedom of my advice, I fear, will not be kindly taken ; but as the cause of common sense is most highly concerned in it, I shall proceed without regard to the conse- quences. I mean the ugly, and (I am sorry to say it) so numerous a part of my country-wo- men. I must, for their own sakes, treat them with some rigour, to save them not only from the public ridicule, but indignation. Their dress must not rise above plain humble Prose ; and any attempts beyond it, amount at best to the Mock- Hcroic, and excite laughter. An ugly woman should by all means avoid any ornament that may draw eyes upon her, which she will enter- tain so ill. But if she endeavours by dint of dress to cram her deformity down mankind, the insolence of the undertaking is resented ; and when a gorgon curls her snakes to charm the town, she would have no reason to complain, if she lost head and all by the hand of some aveng- ing Perseus. Ugly women (who may more pro- perly be called a third sex, than a part of the fair one) should publicly renounce all thoughts of their persons, and turn their minds another way : they should endeavour to be honest, good-humoured gentlemen ; they may amuse themselves witli field sports, and a cheerful glass; and if they could get into parliament, I should. >.0. 35. THE GLEANER. 289 for my own part, have no objection to it. Should I be asked how a woman should know she is ugly, and take her measures accordingly; I answer, that in order to judge right, she must not believe her eyes, but her ears ; and if they have not heard very warm addresses and appli- cations, she may depend upon it, it was the de- formity and not the severity of her countenance that prevented them. There is another sort of ladies, whose daily in- sults upon common sense call for the strongest correction, and who may most properly be styled old offenders. These are the sexagenary fair- ones, and upwards, who, whether they were hand- some or not in the last century, ought at least, in this, to reduce themselves to a decency and gravity of dress suited to their years. These of- fenders are exceedingly numerous, witness all the public places, where they exhibit whatever art and dress can do to make them completely ridiculous. I have often observed septuagenary great-grandmothers, adorned, as they thought, with all the colours of the rainbow, while in reality they looked more like decayed worms in the midst of tlieir ov/n silks. Nay, I have seen them proudly display witliered necks, shrivelled and decayed like their marriage settlements, and v,'hich no hand but the cold hand of time VOL. I. u 290 THE GLEANER. NO. 33, had visited these forty years. The utmost in- dulgence I can allow here is extreme cleanli- ness, that they may not offend more senses than the sight ; but for the dress, it must be confined to the Elegy and the Tristibus. What has been said with relation to the fair sex, holds true with relation to the other; only with still greater restrictions; as such irregulari- ties are less pardonable in men than in ladies. A reasonable compliance with the fashion is no disparagement to the best understanding, and an affected singularity would ; but an excess be- yond what age, rank, and character will justify, is one of the worst signs the body can hang out, and will never tempt people to call in. I see with indulgence the youth of our nation finely bound and gilt on the back, and wish they were lettered into the bargain. I forgive them the unnatural scantiness of their wigs, and the im- moderate dimensions of their bags, in consider- ation that the fashion has prevailed, and that the opposition of a few to it would be the greater affectation of the two. Though, by the way, I very much doubt whether they are all of them gainers by shewing their cars ; for it is said that Midas, afiter a certain accident, was the judici- ous inventor of long wigs. But then these lux- uriancies of fancy must subside, when age and NO. 35. THE GLEANER. 291 rank call upon judgment to check its excres- cencies and irregularities. I cannot conclude this paper without an ani- madversion upon one prevailing folly, of which both sexes are equally guilty, and which is at- tended with real ill consequences to the nation ; I mean that rage of foreign fopperies, by which so considerable a sum of ready money is annually exported out of the kingdom, for things which ought not to he suffered to be imported even gratis. In order therefore to prevent, as far as I am able, this absurd and mischievous practice, I hereby signify, that I will shew a greater in- dulgence than ordinary to those who only ex- pose themselves in the manufactures of their own country ; and that they shall enjoy a con- nivance, in the nature of a drawback, to those excesses which otherv/ise I shall not tolerate. I must add, that if it is so genteel to copy the French even in their weaknesses, I should hum- bly hope it might be thought still more so, to imitate them where they really deserve imita- tion, which is in preferring every thing of their own to every thing of other people's. A French- man, who happened to be in England at the time of tlie last total eclipse of the sun, assured the people whom he saw looking at it with at- tention, that it was not to be compared to a u 2 292 THE GLEANER. NC>. SS. French eclipse ! Would some of our fine women emulate that spirit, and assert (as they might do with much more truth) that the foreign manufac- tures are not to be compared to the English, suck a declaration would be worth two or three hun- dred thousand pounds a year to the kingdom, and operate more effectually than all the laws made for that purpose. The Roman ladies got the Oppian law, which restrained their dress, re- pealed, in spite of the unwearied opposition of the elder Cato. I exhort the British ladies to exert their powers to better purposes, and to revive, by their credit, the trade and manufactures of their own country, in spite of the supine negligence of those whose more immediate care it ought to be to cultivate and promote them. Common Sense, Feb. 26, 17^?^ KO, 36. THE GLEANER. 293 No. XXXYI. -For his verse renown'd, That sung the deeds of heroes ; those who fell, Or those wlio conqucr'd, in their country's cause; Th' enraptur'd soul inspiring with the thirst Of glory won by virtue. Leomdas, 1. iv. p. 129. Sir, I am an old man, retired from the world, partly out of principle, but more, I fear, from laziness, having sense enough to see that things go ill, honesty enough to wish they went better, but not spirits enough to attempt myself to mend them, nor any great hopes from the activity of those who are engaged on one side or the other. This temper of mind has thrown me deeply into reading, that I may forget the present scene as much as possible ; and, as of all kinds of reading the most proper for this purpose is poetry, I make that my chief study ; especially Homer, which lies in my hall by the side of the family bible ; and, poxt to that, is most reverenced by myself, my wife, and all my children, whom I breed up in the love and lionour of it, as extremely conducing to ma,ke them good and worthy men. But that you 294 THE GLEANER. NO. 36. may not mistake me, I must tell you that this Homer is neither Barnes's nor Clark's, but Mr. Pope's; for as he makes him speak English full as well as he does his own tongue, and sometimes better, I am partial enough to my own country rather to choose to read him in a translation, which, of all I ever saw in any language, has most the spirit and grace of an original. After Homer, Virgil and Milton are my favourites; and Tasso too, though he pleases me the less, by having borrowed so much from the two former, that half his work is little less than theirs repeated. But the wish of my heart these many years has been, that it would please the muses, for my delight and entertainment, to raise up a genius who would scorn to borrow any thing ; but, in the spirit of the ancients, without taking their thoughts, produce another original epic poem. I say. Sir, this has been my wish ; but it was a wish not attended with the least degree of hope : on the contrary, from a contempt of my contemporaries, natural enough to people at my years, I should liave been peevish with any body that had told me sucli a thing could pos- sibly come to pass. In this disposition of mind, I was last week surprised with a new poem called " Leonidas." KO. 36. THE GLEANER. 29.5 I took it up with the strongest prepossessions that could be formed by any man against it. In the first place, I had never heard the author's name ; next, they told me he lived in the city, and was a. merchant; then, he was a young man of five-and-twenty ; and, lastly, it consisted of nine books; which, at first sight, was enough to startle any lazy fellow, as I have before con- fessed myself to be. And, to tell you the truth, I was the less disposed to like it, from not having seen it before it was in print ; for, as I take myself to be a critic of distinction, I was a good deal piqued that the author did not send me his manuscript to peruse, as other authors have done of no small fame. All these objections created such a prejudice, that I was on the point of returning the Leoni- das back again to my bookseller, w^ithout so much as having given it the reading ; but my wife, who loves a new thing, prevailed upon me to look into it at least, and see the turn of it ; which I ventured to do, in full persuasion that I should lay it by at the end of the first book. The first thing that surprised me was to find I could understand the language it was written in, which, for a w riter of blank verse, is a very unusual condescension to his readers : but this 296 THE GLEANER. NO. 36. author has found out, that strength of thought and majesty of expression may be reconciled to purity of diction and grammatical exactness, nay, to an ease and simplicity of style ; that hard words and affected phrases are no more neces- sary in this sort of metre, than in rhime ; and that if Milton himself had been more sparing of them, he would not indeed have appeared so great a scholar, and therefore, perhaps, might have pleased the ladies less ; but he would have been a good deal finer writer, and not have spoiled the style of so many of his successors, who have chosen to imitate him chiefly in this point. From understanding Leonidas, I quickly came to like it; and the more I read, the more I liked, the more I wondered, the more I found myself delighted, animated, moved ; so that indeed I could neither cat nor sleep till I had gone through the nine books, and would have given ten times more than they cost me for nine more. Since that time, I have been so full of all the beauties and excellent things I met with in it, that, to give some vent, I found it absolutely necessary to write this letter to you; and invite my countrymen, out of tlie sincerest affection that I bear them, to take part with me in the pleasure of admiring what so justly deserves 2^0. 36. THE GLEANER. 297 their admiration. And in doing this I have yet a farther view ; I desire to do them good as well as please them ; for never yet was an epic poem wrote with so noble and useful a design ; the whole plan and purpose of it being to shew the superiority of freedom over slavery ; and how much virtue, public spirit, and the love of liberty, are preferable, both in their nature and effects, to riches, luxury, and the insolence of power. This great and instructive moral is set forth by an action the most proper to illustrate it of all that ancient or modern history can afford, enforced by the most sublime spirit of poetry, and adorned by all the charms of an active and warm imagination, under the restraint of a cool and sober judgment ; and such, I own, is the effect of it on me, that it has got the better of my long habitual indolence, and roused me up to such a zeal for public good, that I could almost turn Spartan at threescore. The same good influence it may have on others too, especially the younger and more warm part of the world ; therefore I think the recommend- ing it to the public is a duty that we owe to our country ; particularly you. Sir, whose recom- mendation may have weight. But it has another special claim to your pro- 298 THE GLEANER. KO. 36. tection ; for I will venture to say, there never was an epic poem which had so near a relation as this to common sense; the author of it not having allowed himself the liberty (so largely taken by his predecessors) of making excursions beyond the bounds, and out of sight of it, into the airy regions of poetical mythology. There are neither fighting gods nor scolding goddesses, neither miracles nor enchantments, neither monsters nor giants, in his work ; but whatsoever human nature can afford, that is most astonishing, marvellous, and sublime. There is indeed a very fine piece of machinery in the eighth book, where Leonidas, in his sleep, sees his ancestor Hercules, who represents to him, by a prophetic and figurative vision, the future success of the war wherein he dies ; which was a necessary art, to shew the reader, as well as the hero himself, that the conclusion of the action would be fortunate. But this is still within the rules of common sense ; for a Gre- cian might dream that he saw and talked with Hercules: but the absurdity would be to suppose that he did it waking. I am well aware that this sobriety of Mr. Glover, in confining the flights of his fancy to the bounds of reason and of nature, which appears to me to be the highest work of judg- no. 36. THE GLEANER, 299 jnent, may be censured by some critics, from the rules of Bossu and llapin ; but I know that those authors have no other foundation for their rules than the practice of Homer and Virgil in this particular ; and I dare appeal to every man of sense, whether or no, even in them, he has not found the mythological part the least agreeable, and in many places really disgustful ? What Longinus says of Homer is as true when applied to Virgil, and other copiers of both that they have debased their gods into men, and something worse for I do not believe there ever was a set of kings at one time together in the world, who made so ill and so capricious a use of their absolute power over mortals, as the set of divinities described by these two poets through the whole course of the Iliad and ^Eneid. Yet it may be said, in excuse of those absurdities, that they wrote thus at a time when such strange stories were the national faith of Greece and Rome, and there- fore more easily swallowed by their readers. But in an age and country free from all super- stitions, one who should endeavour to bring back their old tales, or substitute others as idle in the room of them, would gain no credit, I am sure, in any sense : " quodcunque ostendis mihi sic, incredulus odi." SOO THE GLEANER. NO. 36, The truth Is, it requires a vast genius, and a subject itself great and sublime, to be able to do without these shining follies : the gods and goddesses, the enchantments, and the miracles, come more in aid of the poet than the hero; and to them he is obliged to have recourse when he is distressed for want of matter or invention. But to Mr. Glover their assistance is not necessary ; his force is equal to the hardest undertaking, and his hero superior to the gods of other poets. Another objection that may possibly be made to him is, that his subject is not relative to England. Sir, the defence of a free state against oppressions, is a subject as interesting to us, and which this country ought to take as warm a part in, as any antiquated story that can be found in GeofFry of Monmouth, or Roger Hoveden's Saxon Annals. And since the Con- quest, I know but of two reigns which can furnish actions great enough for epic poetry, those of Edward the Third, and Henry the Fifth; but, unfortunately, the exploits of these two kings were directly contrary to the interests of England; and would have undone us, if we had not lost again all that their victories gained for us in France, since wt must soon have become a province to it : whereas, the valour of Leonidas NO. 36, THE GLEANER. 301 secured the independency of Greece, and made it superior to Persia ever after. Any later subject (as our civil wars, for instance) would have been liable to a capital objection, which I am very glad Mr. Glover has had the prudence entirely to avoid ; viz. the imputation of writing for a party. But, as he has gone so far as Greece to find a story, which will not bear the least suspicion of a parallel to any circumstance or character of these times, I hope all parties will be unanimous in giving his performance the praise that it deserves ; since none can say that he meant it against liberty, to inspire a general love of which is the sole aim and intention of this poem. The other faults that I foresee will be found with it, are rather objections to epic poetry itself, than particular to the merits of Le- onidas. One fine gentleman will say, that he hates battles ; another will declare his aver- sion to blank verse ; a third will protest that he cannot read such damned hard names: this fine lady will complain it is too grave ; a second will swoon at the very notion of a Spartan ; and tlie general topic will be, that it is too long. But all these pretty little criticisms will die in a month or two at most ; and all the pretty little critics will become violent admirers 302 THE GLEANER. NO. 36. of this book, they do not know how; as they are now violent foes to it, they do not know why! I make no doubt but by far the greater part of the female world will be early on its side ; for their just and natural taste, unspoiled by pedantry, gives them as quick a relish of what is excellent in poetry, as most of us can boast with all our learning : and the sex is shewn to such very great advantage in the two amiable charac- ters of Ariana, and the queen of Laceda^mon ; that (considering how ill they have all been used by Virgil, who has not drawn one good woman in his poem) this alone should make them fond of Mr. Glover, were there any need to excite their partiality. It is impossible, within the bounds of this short paper, for me to point out the beauties of a work, which has so many, and of so different a nature. I will only say in general, that the fire which enlivens every part of it, would be enough to atone for many faults and errors ; but that it seems to me to be as equal and correct, as it is spirited, affecting, and sublime. And it has this particular merit to recommend it, that, though it has quite the air of an epic poem, there is not so much as a single simile in it that is borrowed from any of the ancients ; and yet, I beheve, there is hardly any poem that NO. 36. THE GLEANER. 303 has such a variety of beautiful comparisons : so just a confidence had the author in the extent and rich abundance of his own imagination. The artful conduct of the principal design ; the skill in connecting and adapting every episode to the carrying on and serving that design ; the variety of characters, the great care to keep them, and distinguish each from the other by a propriety of thought ; all these are excellencies which the best judges will be particularly pleased with in Leonidas. I must observe too, that even those who are not naturally fond of poetry, or any work of fancy, wdll find in his so much solidity of reason, such good sense, weight of thought, and depth of learning ; will see every virtue, public or private, so agreeably and forcibly inculcated, that they may read it w^ith delight and with instruction, though they have no relish for the graces of the verse, the harmony of the numbers, or the charms of the inven- tion. Upon the whole. Sir, I look upon this poem as one of those few of distinguished worth and excellence, which will be handed down with respect to all posterity, and which, in the long revolution of past centuries, but two or three countries have been able to produce. And I cannot help congratulating my own, that after having in the last age brought forth a S04 THE GLEANEtt. NO. 36^ Milton, she has in this produced such poets as we have the happiness to see flourish now together, I mean Mr. Pope, and Mr. Glover. The first of these has no superior, if an equal, in all the various parts of poetry, to which his elegant and extensive genius has applied itself; no, not among the greatest of the ancients : but an epic poem he has not yet given of his own ; I mean, distinct from his translations ; and certainly. Sir, in that species of writing, it is enough to have given Homer to us, with a force of style not inferior to his own: the bounds of human life are too contracted for a second work so difficult as this ; I might add, perhaps, the bounds of human glory. There w^as there- fore a path left clear for Mr. Glover; and to what a height it lias carried him, w^ll appear to all who have eyes good enough to reach so far j for your judges of epigrams and songs can see no farther than the bottom of the hill, and botli he and Mr. Pope are out of their sight. But it must be owned, that the latter had made the way much less difficult for Mr. Glover to ascend, by smoothing the rouglmess, and root- ing up tlic tliorns and briars which the English Parnassus was encuml)ered with before; so that if the diction of Lcoriidas be softer, and the general flow of the numbers more harmonious. NO. 36. THE gleaner; 505 ^han that of Milton himself, it may in part be ascribed to Mr. Pope, as the great polisher and improver of our verse. I have not the honour to know either of these gentlemen; but, as they are both men' of great and real merit, I make no doubt they wish well to one another ; and nothing, I am sure, can be of such advantage to a rising genius as the praise of Mr. Pope. Common Sense, Apr. 9, 1737. The Leonidas of Glover was, on its first publication, con- sidered too much in the light of a party poem ; the conse- ijuence of which was, that for a period it received the most extravagant praise, and then undeservedly experienced an al- most utter neglect. It has lately, however, been reprinted in an elegant form ; and though not meriting the lavish encomid which were originally bestowed upon it, must be pronounced worthy of descending to posterity, accompanied as it is with more subdued, and therefore more just, applause. The pre- Bent paper partakes, in some degree, of the enthusiasm of the day, especially where it declares the versification of Glover to be superior to that of Milton! Now, one of the defects of Le- onidas is the monotony of its numbers. VOL. I. 506 THE GLEANER. NO. 37. No. XXXVII. In vuUu color est sine sanguine ; liimina nioestis Slant iinmota gcnis. Nihil est in imagine vivi. Ipsa quoque interius cum daro lingua palate Congelat, et vena; desistunt posse moveri. Ncc flecti cervix, nee brachia reddere gestus. Nee pes ire potest ; rntra quoque viscera taxum est. OviDius. Iler cheeks still redd'ning, but their colour dead j Faded her eyes, and tix'd within her head. No more her pliant tongue its motion keeps, But stands congeal'd within her frozen lips. Stagnate and dull within her purple veins, Its current stopp'd, the lifeless blood remains. Her feet their usual offices refuse, Her arms and neck their usual gestures lose : Action and life from ev'ry part are gone, And e'en her entrails turn'd to solid ^tone, Croxall. A FRIEND came yesterday evening to visit me, very firm in the belief of that stone city, where- of a certain ambassador has lately given an account to the virtuosi. I told him, that I had read a story somewhat like it in tlie Arabian Tales formerly, and was mightily surprised to find what had all along been judged a fable should be so easily received for truth; and that too in an age of scepticism, and at the same time when the miracles of Christ himself, which, for many centuries, had been held as unquestioned truths. NO. 37* THE GLEANElt. 307 were boldly charged with being fabulous ! He answered, that the book I mentioned was no ob- jection, but rather might be made an argument in his favour, since it seemed to prove that the author had heard something of this story, though, for want of learning the particulars, he might, perhaps, himself believe it to be a fiction, as all his readers hitherto had done ; but that now the matter was cleared up, and would scarce admit a doubt. He began to be so positive, I did not think it proper to dispute with him ; and he Went on to tell me, that, many ages past, the people of this city (who were all pagans), as a punish- ment for their sins, had suffered a general pe- trifaction, in the same manner as Lot's wife did formerly, and still remained in the same place and posture as they were when this judgment fell upon them : that not the human species only, but likewise the animals, the trees, the houses, and the very clothes upon their backs, were turned to stone. That the ambassador had se- veral of these curiosities brought from thence ; and, in particular, a dog, which being opened to prevent any cheat or imposition, the heart, the lungs, the blood-vessels, and all the bowels, were found in their exact order and true colour: that he had likewise some of the fruits and plants J and also several pieces of their coin, with X 2 S08 THE GLEANER. NO. sf; Strange characters thereon, not to be understood; He assured me this city is not above fourteen days' journey from Tripoli, but in a sandy de- sert now, though formerly it was the metropolis of a populous and fruitful country : that the dif- ficulty and danger of coming at it makes it so little known ; but, however, several people had been there at differenf times, who all agree in their account ; and that the members of our Royal Society intend to collect a handsome purse among themselves, to be employed in making a full discovery. Withal he told me, that at Tri- poli the truth of it was never doubted : that it is generally believed, a time will come when their former state shall be restored ; when the stone will, in an instant, soften and be flesh again, the blood flow fln-ough its vessels as before, new life return, and all the people go on to finish whatever they were about when first they be- came statues. But whatever injuries they re- ceive during this petrifaction, by cutting or de- facing them, will remain when they live again ; and those who are maimed or wounded in such a manner as would be mortal in a living body, at the general thaw will be found dead carcases. I told my friend, that if the people of Tripoli were of this opinion, I thought, out of common h-umanity, the government ought to place a- NO. 37. THE GLEANER. 309 guard, and prevent any body's going thither, lest much mischief, and even murder, might be committed by unthinking people. For exam- ple, it would be an irreparable damage tq a beau- tiful lady, when she lives again, to see a deep scar in her forehead, by the scratch of a rustic's sticlf , while he was awkwardly admiring her in her. petrified condition ; and how unhappy must others be to find themselves deprived of legs and arms, who have no way of getting a subsistence but by the use of them ; nor would others be better satisfied to have the beauty and gracefulness of their persons spoiled and de^ stroyed by blows : not to mention, that every hollow place, every break in any part of the body, must, when they breathe again, be painr ful gashes and ragged wounds. My friend was pleased with thinking ma brought over to his opinion, and took his leave. He had not long been gone, e'er I went to bed, ruminating on his discourse. I closed my eyes j fancy began to operate, and I dreamed as follows. I thought myself travelling in search of this strange city, and that I saw it just before me. I found the avenues all guarded : but, applying to the chief commander, I obtained permission to take a view of it, and had an officer appointed 310 THE GLEANEE. NO. 37. to conduct me, and interpret all its wonders. "When we had passed the gates, along the high street I saw every thing that answered the hurry of a great town, but motion. People seemed ready to throng and pass by each other, although they stood stock still. The haste of business appeared in most of them ; and people of all ages and conditions expressed in their faces their different cares and manners ; which, methought, I observed with the same pleasure as I often have from a window in Cheapside. It is impossible to tell the different postures of the statues : I took notice of two particularly, very earnest, the one speaking, the other attend- ing. He that spoke stroked his beard with one hand ; which, as my guide informed me, was to signify the great truth of what he said, accord- ing to the custom of that country. Several of the poorer sort were carrying burdens, which they were doomed to labour under till the in- stantaneous thaw of this hard state, when the blood again will circulate, and they may go un- load themselves. Being desirous to see what was in the houses, we entered one ; and I found it fared within doors, as in the streets, and that every thing re- mained just as the petrifying quality found it ; for my guide told mc the wliole city was metamor- NO. 37. THE GLEANER. 311 phosed thus all at once, and did not stiffen by degrees as water hardens into ice. We came into a public room, where a crowd of people was got together, like as at our coffee-houses : here I observed that all the company had cast their eyes on one that stood at the upper end : he was tall, broad-faced, and lusty ; his right arm was extended ; it seemed as if he was making a great bustle by his talk; and by his habit he w^as known to be a priest of that country. In his fea- tures was an exceeding vehemence ; his mouth remained in such a manner open, as when a man is speaking loud and earnest ; and he must con- tinue to be the figure of one making a noise, until he shuts it at the general change. From hence we went through a long alley into an open area. The statues here wxre not so thick, nor seemed so full of business. A stately building fronted us, of which we took a view. It was the temple of their god. De- scending a few steps, we came into a spacious aile, on each side whereof there ran a row of pil- lars, exceeding beautiful, tliough very different from any order I had ever seen. At the east end, a square place, into wliich we went down several more steps, was separated from the rest by a partition finely wrougiit. Here stood the 312 THE GLEANER. NO. 57. image of their deity, formed of white stone, naked in several parts of the body, and in others gilded and diversely coloured. It had many heads, all of them very frightful, though each seemed to intend something of a human coun- tenance. Its hands I could not number, there were so many of them, and every one held somewhat ; this a sword, that a pouring bottle, one a battle-axe, another forked thunder ; but all denoting wrath and terror. The temple was full of people standing all upright : their countenances were serene and placid, which I imputed to the music playing at their cere- monies ; for I observed the religious officers with their uplifted trumpets and other instruments, in the posture the petrifaction found them. As we came from the temple, in a bye-corner we saw two persons richly habited, stabbing at each other with a kind of weapon something like the swords of our horse-guards, but longer. The history of their quarrel is not guessed, but the passion against his enemy, and the defence of himself, is wonderful in both. Tradition says, one of them is a person of great merit, which makes people under great concern for him. The weapon of his enemy is now but halfway its push, although it touches his belly j NO. 37. TE GLEANER. 313 and the fear is, that upon the instant return of life and sensation, it will rush onwards, and go quite through the body. I would have broke the weapons, to put them both out of danger ; but my guide informed me, that, as this judgment came on them from above, altering any thing would be impiously tp oppose God*s will ; " and therefore (said he), though you may pity this no- ble person, yet, if thus you should save his life, I must immediately destroy yours." in the upper part of the town, that way which leads from the temple, we found but few people, excepting some on the tops of the houses, lean- ing over a kind of rails, and others looking out of the windows. At the turning of a street we met a funeral ; and a father's grief (which, in the picture of Agamemnon following his daugh- ter to be sacrificed, the famous painter, unable to draw, covered with a veil) was here expressed in statuary. The mother and relations of the deceased African maid, whom they surrounded, appeared like real Niobes turned to stone with weeping. From this place, in a little time we came to the great square before the palace, where I had the pleasure to see a whole troop of horse in stone: every soldier had his particular martial 314 THE GLEANER. NO. 37. countenance, and seemed intrepid. Just at the palace gate was a great crowd of statues ; and as we made up to them, I observed some foot- soldiers placed as sentinels on every side : one made a compliment with his weapon, which was like a battle-axe j I turned my eyes, and perceived an officer in stone just by. When we came nearer, I found a number raised above the rest, in seats in a circular position : here was the king himself distributing justice, and many learned statues in the law assisting him : his countenance was majestic, but not terrible, and he seemed about the middle part of life. The grandeur of this assembly, and the silence here, struck me with much regard : the Gauls stopt not with greater reverence, when they found the elders of Rome sitting with all the dignity and decorum becoming that august senate. It scarcely ever rains in this country, which made them have an open court. My curiosity would fain have led me into the king's palace, and the houses of the great men (for to look all over the city I thought would be an endless task) ; but my guide told me, that in those places many things were doing which it was not proper for me to see. This answer did not, however, satisfy me ; and with pressing NO. 37. THE GLEANER. 315 him too eagerly I lost my dream, and found I had been no farther than the Minories. Universal Spectator, vol. I. p. 113- Tlie story in the Arabian Nights, to which this entertaining paper alludes, is in the History of Zobeide, vol. i. p. 264, of Forster's translation. The Arabs, ignorant of the effects of chemical solution and deposition, very generally attributed plienomena of this kind to the operation of magic. Dr. Shaw, in his Travels through Barbary, has recorded some striking in- stances of this credulity. " At the distance of some leagues {he relates) to the eastward of Constantia, are the Silent, or Enchanted Baths. They issue from a low ground, surrounded with mountains. Several of the springs have an intense heat, and at a small distance others are comparatively cold, near which are the ruins of some houses, probably erected for the convenience of bathers- " The steam of those springs is strongly sulphureous, and the heat is so great as to boil a large piece of mutton very tender in fifteen minutes. The rocky ground, over which the water runs for the space of one hundred feet, is in a manner dis- solved, or rather calcined by it. These rocks, being originally soft and vmiforra, the water, by making equal impressions on them all round, has left them in the shape of cones and hemis- pheres, which being six feet high, and nearly of the same diameter, the Arabs believe to have been the tents of some aboriginal inhabitants, turned into stone. " Where these rocks contain a mixture of harder matter with their usual chalky substance, and consequently cannot be equally and uniformly dissolved, you are entertained with a confusion of traces and channels, distinguislied by the Arabs Into camels, horses, and sheep, men, women, and children, whom they suppose to have undergone similar transformation with tlieir tents. " On riding over this place, it reverberates such a holIo',v 316 THE GLEANER. NO. 37. sound, that we were every moment apprehensive of sinking through it. The ground being thus evidently hollow, it is probable that air, pent up in these caverns, produces that mixture of shrill murmuring, and deep sounds, which, accord- ing to the direction of the winds and the agitation of the external air, issue out along with the water. These sounds the Arabs affirni to be the music of the Jenoure, or fairies, who are supposed to take a peculiar delight in this place, and to be the grand agents in all these remarkable appearances.'* Mayor's Voyages and Travels, vol. xii. p. 91. NO. S8i THE GLEANER. 317 No. XXXVIII. Hie multum in Fabia valet, ille vclina ; Cuilibet hie fasces dabit, eripietque curule; Cui volet, importurius ebur, frater, pater, adde ; XJt cuique est aetas, ita qiiemque facetas adopta. HORAT. The Fabian tribe his interest largely sways; This the Velinian ; there a third, with ease. Can give or take the honours of the state, The coilsul's fasce, and the praetor's seat; Accotding to their age adopt them all. And brother, father, most facetious call. Francis; Human nature, tliough every where tile same^ is so seemingly diversified by the various habits and customs of different countries, and so blended with the early impressions We receive from our education, that they are often con- founded together, and mistaken for one an- other. This makes us look with astonishment upon all customs that are extremely different from our own, and hardly allow those nations to be of the same nature with ourselves, if they are unlike us in their manners ; whereas all human actions may be traced up to those two great motives the pursuit of pleasure, and the avoidance of pain ; and, upon strict examination, we shall find that those customs which at first 318 THE GLEANER. NO. 38. view seem the most different from our own, have in reality a great analogy with them. "What more particularly suggested this thought to me was, an account which a gentleman, who was lately returned from China, gave, in a com.pany where I happened to be present, of a pleasure held in high esteem and extremely practised by that luxurious nation. He told us, that the tickling of the ears was one of the most exquisite sensations known in China ; and that the delight administered to the whole frame, through this organ, could, by an able and skilful tickler, be raised to whatever degree of ecstasy the patient should desire. The company, struck with this novelty, ex- pressed their surprise, as is usual on such oeca-f sious, tirst by a silly silence, and then by many silly questions. The account too, coming from so far as China, raised both their wonder and their curiosity, much more than if it had come from any European country, and opened a larger field for many impertinent questions. Among others, the gentleman was asked whether the Chinese? ears and fingers had the least resemblance to ours ; to which having answered in the affirma- tive, he went on thus : " I perceive I have ex- cited your curiosity so much by mentioning a custom so unknown to you here, that I believe NO. 38. THE GLEANER, 319 it will not be disagreeable if I give you a par. ticular account of it. " This pleasure, strange as it may seem to you, is in China reckoned almost equal to any that the senses afford. There is not an ear in the whole country untickled ; the ticklers have, in their turn, others who tickle them, insomuch that there is a circulation of tickling throughout that vast empire. Or if by chance there be some few unhappy enough not to find business, they comfort themselves at least with self-titilla- tion. " This profession is one of the most lucrative and considerable ones in China, the most emi- nent performers being either handsomely requit- ed in money, or still better rewarded by the credit and influence it gives them with the party tic- kled ; insomuch that a man's fortune is made as soon as he gets to be tickler to any consider- able mandarine. "The emperor, as injustice he ought, enjoys this pleasure in its higliest perfection, and all the considerable people contend for the honour and advantage of this employment ; the person who succeeds the best in it, being always the drst favourite, and chief dispenser of his impe- rial power. The principal mandarines are al- lowed to try hands upon his majesty's sacred cars J and, according to their dexterity and agi- S20 THE GLEANER. l>Td. 38i lity, commonly rise to the post of first minister. His wives too are admitted to try their skill ; and she among them who holds him by the ear, is rec- koned to have the surest and most lasting hold. His present imperial majesty's ears, as I am in- formed, are by ho means of a delicate texturCj and consequently not quick of sensation, so that it has proved extremely difficult to nick the tone of them ; the lightest and finest hands have utterly failed ; and many have miscarried, who, from either fear or respect, did not treat the royal ears so roughly as was necessary. He began his reign under the hands of a bungling operator^ whom for his clumsiness he soon dis- missed : he was afterwards attempted by a more skilful tickler, but he sometimes failed too ; and, not being able to hit the humour of his ma- jesty's ears, his own have often suffered for it. " In this public distress, and while majesty laboured under the privation of auricular joys, the empress, who by long acquaintance and frequent little trials judged pretty well the texture of the royal ear, resolved to undertake it, and succeeded perfectly, by means of a much stronger friction than others durst either at- tempt, or could imagine would please. " In the mean time, the skilful mandarine, far from being discouraged by the ill success he liad sometimes met with in his attempts upon NO. 38* THE GLEANER. S2l the emperor's ears, resolved to make himself amends upon his imperial consort's: he tried, and he prevailed: he tickled her majesty's ear to such perfection, that, as the emperor would trust his ear to none but the empress, she would trust her's to none but this light-fingered mandarine, who by these means attained to Unbounded and uncontrolled power, and governed ear by ear. " But as all the mandarines have their ear- ticklers too, with the sam.e degree of influence over them, and as this mandarin was particu- larly remarkable for his extreme sensibility in those parts, it is iiard to say from what original titillation the imperial power now flows.'* The conclusion of the gentleman's story was attended with the usual interjections of wonder and surprise from the company : some called it strange, some odd, and some very comical; and those who thought it the most improbable, I found by their questions were the most desir- ous to believe it. I observed too, that, while the story lasted, tliey were most of them trying the experiment upon their own ears, but with- out any visible effect that I could perceive. Soon afterwards the company broke up, and I wTut home ; where I could not help reflecting with some degree of wonder at the wonder of the rest, because I could see nothing extraor- VOL. I. Y 32^ THE GLEANER. NO. 38 dinaiy in the power which the ear exercised in China, when I considered the extensive influ- ence of that important organ in Europe. Here, as in China, 'tis the source of both pleasure and power, the manner of applying to it is only different. Here the titillation is vocal, there it is manual, but the effects are the same ; and, by the bye, European ears are not always un- acquainted neither with manual applications. To make out the analogy I hinted at be- tween the Chinese and ourselves in this par- ticular, I will offer to my readers some in- stances of the sensibility and prevalence of the ears of Great Britain. The British ears seem to be as greedy and sensible of titillation as the Chinese can pos- sibly be, nor is the profession of an ear-tickler here anyways inferior, or less lucrative. These are of three sorts : the private-tickler, the public- tickler, and the self-tickler. Flattery is of all methods the surest to pro- duce that vibration of the air which affects the auditory nerves with the most exquisite titil- lation; and according to the thinner or thicker texture of those organs, the flattery must be more or less strong. This is the immediate province of the private-tickler ; and his great skill consists in tuning his flattery to the ear of NO. 38. THE GLEANER. S23 his patient : it were endless to give instances of the influences and advantages of those artists who excel in this way. ^ The business of a public-tickler is to modu- late his voice, dispose his matter, and enforce his arguments, in such a manner as to excite a pleasing sensation in the ears of a number or assembly of people : this is the most difficult branch of the profession, and that in which the fewest excel ; but, to the few who do it, is the most lucrative and the most considerable. The bar has at present few proficients of this sort ; the pulpit none; the ladder alone seems not to decline. I must not here omit one public-tickler of great eminency, and whose titillative faculty must be allowed to be singly confined to the ear; I mean the great Signor Farinelli, to whom such crowds resort for the ecstacy he adminis- ters to them through that organ, and who so liberally requite his labours, that if he will but do them the favour to stay two or three years longer, and have two or three benefits more, they will have nothing left but their ears to give him. The self-tickler is as unhappy as contemp- tible ; for having none of the talents necessary for tickling of others, and consequently not y 2 324 THE GLEANER. NO. 38. worth being tickled by others neither, he is re- duced to tickle himself, his own ears alone liceive titillation from his own efforts. I know an eminent performer of this kind, who, by being nearly related to a skilful public-tick- ler, would fain set up for business himself; but has met with such repeated discourage- ments, that he is reduced to the mortifying resource of self-titillation, in which he commits the most horrid excesses. Besides the proofs above-mentioned of the influence of the ear in this country, many of our most common phrases and expressions (from whence the genius of a people may always be collected) demonstrate that the ear is reckon- ed the principal and most predomiuant part of our whole mechanism : as for instance To have the ear of one's prince, is under- stood by every body to mean, having a good share of his authority, if not the whole ; which plainly hints how that influence is acquired. To have the ear of the first minister, is the next, if not an equal advantage. I am therefore not surprised that so considerable a possession should be so frequently attempted, and so eagerly solicited, as we may always observe it is. But I must caution the person who would make his fortune in this way, to confine his at- NO. 38. THE GLEANER. S25 tempts strictly to the ear in the singular num- ber; a design upon the ears, in the plural, of a first minister, being for the most part rather difficult and dangerous, however just. To give ear to a person, implies giving credit, being convinced, and being guided by that person ; all this by the success of his endea- vours upon that prevailing organ. To lend an ear is something less, but still in- timates a willingness and tendency in the lend- er, to be prevailed upon by a little more tick- ling in that part. Thus the lending of an ear is a sure presage of success to a skilful tickler. For example ; a person who lends an ear to a minister, seldom fails of putting thena both in his power soon afterwards ; and when a fine woman lends an ear to a lover, she shews a disposition at least to further and future titilla- tion. To be deaf, and stop one's cars, are common and known expressions to signify a total refusal and rejection of a person or proposition; in which case I have often observed the manual application to succeed by a strong vellication or vigorous })ercussion of the outward mem- branes of the car. There cannot be a stronger instance of the great value that has always been set upon these parts, than the constant manner 326 THE GLEANER. NO. 38. of expressing the utmost and most ardent desire people can have for any thing, by saying they would give their ears for it. A price so great, that it is seldom either paid or required ; witness the number of people actually wearing their ears still, who in justice have long since for- feited them. Over head and ears, would be a manifest pleonasmus (the head being higher than the ears), were not the ears reckoned so much more valuable than all the rest of the head, as to make it a true climax. It were unnecessary to mention, as farther proofs of the importance and dignity of those organs, that pulling, boxing, or cutting off the ears, are the highest insults that choleric men of honour can either give or receive, which shews that the ear is the scat of honour as well as of pleasure. The anatomists have discovered, that there is an intimate correspondence between the palm of the hand and the ear; and that a previous application to the hand communicates itself in- stantly, by the force and velocity of attraction, to the ear, and agreeably prepares that part to receive and admit of titillation. I must say too, that I have known this practised with success upon very considerable persons of both sexes. NO. 38. THE GLEANER. 327 Having thus demonstrated, by many in- stances, that the ear is the most material part in the whole mechanism of our structure ; and that it is both the seat and source of honour, power, pleasure, and pain ; I cannot conclude without an earnest exhortation to all my coun- try folks, of whatsoever rank or sex, to take the utmost care of their ears. Guard your ears, O ye princes ! for your power is lodged in your ears. Guard your ears, ye nobles ! for your honour lies in your ears. Guard your ears, ye fair! if ye would guard your virtue. And guard your ears, all my fellow-subjects ! if you would guard your liberties and properties. Fog's Journal, Jan. 24, 1736, 328 THE GLEANER. KO. 39, No. XXXIX. Curb this cruel curiosity. Be touch'd witli human gentleness and lovr, Glancing an eye of pity. The quality of mercy is not strain'd ; It droppeth as the jijentle rain from heaven Upon the place benealh : it is twice bless'd ; It l)le?s<'th hiui that gives, and hiui tliat takes: 'Tis mightiest in the mightiest ; it becomes Tlie tlironed monarch better than his crown ; It is an attribute to God himself; And earthly power doth then show likest God's, When mercy seasons justice. SnAKSPEARr. I HAVE always been told, that true bravery, and true good sense, were accompanied with com- passion and benevolence ; and cannot help being surprised, that a nation so justly famous for the two former virtues, should give any room to have it said they are deficient in the latter. I am afraid, on examination, they will be found to do this but too paljiably ; else wliy this stagnation of all pursuits, all avocations, all subjects of discourse, but such as relate to those unhappy persons who cither actually liave, or arc ex])ectcd to suffer under tlic hands of the executioner? Why, when any of those spectacles of horror are exhibited, docs the tradesman forsake his NO. 39. THE GLEANER. 329 chop, the merchant his counting-house, the physician his patient, the fine lady her toilet, and the man of pleasure his mistress and his bottle? Why is the Exchange, the markets, and even the streets, left empty, by those ac- customed to occupy them ? It is not so much to be wondered at, that low people run to make holiday on these mournful occasions, because better cannot be expected from their education and way of life ; but for those who boast a superior knowledge of things, are no strangers to the value of life and death, and the tremendous consequences which must inevitably attend the latter : these, jnethinks, should avoid giving any suspicion that they take pleasure in sucli dreadful sights ; because it would shew a taste miserably de- praved, and that they either did not think at all, or thought to very bad purpose. Oh, but you will answer, those who of late have engrossed the attention of the town, were rebels, a set of wretches who would have sub- verted your religion and your laws, dethroned the best of kings, turned your parliament out of doors, and, in fine, thrown all things into confusion. Grant them such ; the greater their crimes, the greater need had they of heaven's mercy; and I will appeal to yourselves, if it SSO THE GLEANER. NO. 39. would not have been more conformable to the principles and duties of that religion you profess, and seem so zealous in preserving, to have shut yourselves up in your closets, and passed those hours in prayers for their immortal welfare, which were taken up in gaping at their fate. But were there nothing after death remain- ing, were there no future sense when once the mortal blow was past, is there no pity due to the living relatives of those unhappy persons, who, though innocent, must suffer in their kin- dred's fate. Few but have a parent, a brother, a sister, a wife, or children, some who have many, who survive to endure the shame of a guilt they are wholly free from themselves : how then can you behold a man, a man perhaps of family and fortune, a man once esteemed among you, dragged to the most ignominious death, without reflecting on the agonies of those dear persons he has left behind ? And will not such reflec- tions raise emotions within you to destroy all the satisfaction of gratifying a foolish and un- justifiable curiosity ? Compassion, and a fellow-feeling of the mise- ries of those of the same species with ourselves, seem natural to the whole creation : those ani- mals, which are looked upon as most contemp- NO. 39. THE GLEANER. S31 tible, are not without some share of it; but it is indeed most peculiar to man; as one of your laureats justly expressed it, though perhaps not without some partiality to his own mind. Compassion proper to mankind appears, Which nature witnessed when she lent us tears. Offender sentiments we only give This proof, to weep is our prerogative ; To shew, by pitying looks and melting eyes. How with our neighbours' woes we sympathize. Who can all sense of others' ills escape, Is but a brute at best in human shape. This natural piety did first refine Our wit, and rais'd our thoughts to things divine: This proves our spirit of the gods' descent, While that of beasts is prone and downward bent: To them but earth-born life they did dispense ; To us, for mutual aid, celestial sense. His majesty has been most graciously pleased to grant his pardon to one of the lords taken in Scotland, and to respite the execution of several others of the lower class of those unhappy cri- minals, who were condemned at the same time they were whom you have seen suffer at Ken- nington Common; which act of truly royal cle- mency, I should think, must not only endear him more to all his good and faithful subjects, but also convert the most virulent malcontent, iind turn the voice of faction into admiration. S32 THE GLEANER. NO. S9. I am astonished, therefore, to find that any one can express the least dissatisfaction at it ; nor can account for such a behaviour any other way, than that, expecting a great number of holidays, and consequently fresh matter of dis- course for a long time after they were over, is such a disappointment as you cannot brook without chagrin. Strange, unnatural propensity ! I am loth to say what such a disposition resembles ; but what it does not, even the meanest and most illiterate among you is not so ignorant as not to know, how much soever you may attempt to palliate it. Mercy, you confess yourselves, is the darling attribute of heaven ; and if the king, heaven's delegate, and who, it must also be acknowledg- ed, had much more reason to be offended than any of his subjects can pretend to be ; if he, I gay, discovered an inclination to extend it, I cannot help being of opinion, that it was a pre- sumption, both to heaven and to the king, to urge too much on the side of justice ; as by the same parity of reason, it would be equally un- justifiable in any one to entertain a hard thought of his majesty for refusing clemency in some cases. The law, it is true, condemns ; but it is the king's undoubted prerogative to save, and is indeed the richest j'cwcl in his crown. The JID. 39, THE GLEANER. S3S author of Hudibras was a man of great humour, but his sentiments were always allowed to be extremely just, as well as elegant, whenever he has a mind to be serious : what he delivers on the subject now upon the tapis, are not, I think, less so than any in his poem ; for which reason I take the liberty to repeat them. The laws that are inanimate, And feel no sense of love or hate. That have no passions of their own, Nor pity to be wrought upon, Are only proper to inflict Revenge on criminals as strict. But to have power to forgive. Is empire and prerogative ; And 'tis in crowns a nobler gem, M- To grant a pardon, than condemn. I observe, however, and with very great plea- sure, that the noble and genteel part of the town are far from being so rigid : many of the former have used their utmost endeavours to excite that compassion which has since been found ; and a great number of the latter testify their satisfaction at its being accomplished. It is only your little authors, hackneys for the publishers of newspapers, who by their writings would fain influence the low and unthinking part of their readers, to imagine that his majesty does an in- 834 THE GLEANER. NO. 39. jury both to himself and people, in pardoning even any one of those who have been led astray from their duty, however the circumstances which induced them to it either really are, or may have been, represented to him. These remonstrances, as well as the papers they contribute to the filling up, will soon be buried in oblivion ; but if they should have any weight, as I hope they never will, I could wish they might be immortalized to the shame and confusion of the authors ; since I can never be brought to believe they write in this manner, inspired by any true affection to his majesty's person or government ; but rather that so un- seasonable a zeal is calculated to serve pur- poses, neither for the glory of the one, or true interest of the other. The number, however, of those who preach this doctrine of severe justice, is but small, to those who are unwarily seduced by it. To them I therefore speak at this time, and sliould think myself happy if I could prevail on them to see the fallacy of it. I would not have you imagine, that, because I have mentioned tliosc wlio luive been con- victed of high treason, I mean to ])articularize them as the most proper objects of compassion: no, I abhor, equally with yourselves, a crime of no; 39. THE GLEANER. 335 SO black and heinous a nature : it was only as at present they engross the attention of the town (and places were advertised to be let out to such as were desirous of beholding the exe- cution, and were actually hired for that purpose by some persons whom it would better have be- come to have employed their time and money in a different manner), that I took the liberty of expressing my sentiments of the matter ; for, in truth, it is not the fate of the guilty, but the humour of such who testify an impatience and kind of fondness for being eye-witnesses of it, that gives me the most concern. The meanest and most common malefactors, who are con- demned every sessions, are yet your fellow- creatures, have the same share in futurity with yourselves; and that depravity of human nature which has brought them to so sad an end, should, methinks, rather excite in you emotions of shame and sorrow, than any of a contrary sort. It is not therefore this person, nor that crime, be the one never so dangerous, or the other never so detestable, tliat, according to my way of thinking, can excuse beholding the punishment with any sort of pleasure, or even with indiffer- ence. Besides, as I believe there is no one so wholly void of natural affection, as to be a wil- 336 THE GLEA^TER. NO. 39* ling spectator of any of his kindred's fate in this manner, though never so justly incurred ; the running to behold that of others, denotes such a selfishness, such an unconcern for every body in whose life or honour you have no immediate interest, as you ought, methinks, to be ashamed of testifying ; and would take off great part of the pity all calamities have a right to claim, should any person of this stamp meet with the same incident that one, who took too much delight in such shows, did a few years ago. A poor labouring man in the west of Eng* land had a son, who, when he came to be about eleven or twelve years of age, discovered a quickness of apprehension and ready wit be- yond what could be expected in a boy that had never been at any school, and could neither Avrite nor read : the smart answers he gave whenever he was asked any questions, and many things were told of him, made him be taken notice of by a neighbouring gentleman of a good estate, who, when he saw him with his father in the field, would often call to him and talk to him. This worthy person thought it a pity that a lad of so good a capacity should be brought up to follow the plough ; he therefore took him from his father, clothed him in clean, decent NO. 39. THE GLEANER. SS7 apparel, and had him instructed as far as was necessary for an ordinary tradesman ; then sent him to London to a pewterer, of whom he had some knowledge ; and soon after, coming up himself to Parliament, bound him apprentice. The charity was not thrown away : the young man was extremely ingenious at his business, very honest and obliging, and had no other fault than an insatiable curiosity of seeing every thing he found others eager to be spectators of; but his master overlooked this in him, in con- sideration of his good qualities, and they agreed extremely well the whole time they were toge- ther. His apprenticeship being expired, he mar- ried a young woman, to whom he had the good fortune to be agreeable : she had a better por- tion than his circumstances could have given room to hope for ; and his patron making a con- siderable addition to tlie sum she brought, set him up in a handsome manner ; and being so, his honesty, industry, and frugality, soon im- proved his stock, and in a very few years he became a man of consequence among those of his trade. Finding himself perfectly at ease, and having a good journeyman whom he could entrust with his business, he began to have a desire of see- ing his old flitlier, and the place which had vor,. I. z S3 8 THE GLEANHR. NO, S^ given him birth, and to take his wife with him on this visit. She was a good sort of woman, and perhaps, like most of her sex, fond of a jaunt into the country, did not oppose his in- clination in the least ; and the matter being soon agreed upon between them, he hired a horse, mounted her behind him, and set out for Devonshire. I shall pass over the particulars of their journey, as having nothing in it ma- terial to my purpose ; and only tell you, that when they came within a few miles of the vil- lage to which they were going, they saw a great number of people, some riding, others running, towards a road which turned out of that they were in ; and on asking the occasion of this unusual concourse, he was told they were going to see the execution of a man who was to be hanged for sheep-stealing. His natural curiosity for such spectacles would not suffer him to pursue his journey, without gratifying that prevailing passion ; and, in spite of all his wife, who would not go with him, could say to hinder him, he left her at the first inn they came to, and following the crowd he saw before him with all the speed he could, till he came to the gallows (which he very well remembered, having, when a boy, seen many a one brought to it), he got thither ^t). 3^t tliE GLEANEll, 359 almost at the same time with the condemned person: but what was his astonishment, when, no sooner casting his eyes upon him, than he knew him to be his own father ! He flung himself off his horse, and, without regarding what became of him, flew to those who had the care of con- ducting the malefactor, and begged the liberty of speaking to him j which being granted, he made himself known to him, and there passed between them all that could be expected on so mournful an occasion. The son expressed the utmost concern that his father had not ac- quainted him, by letter, with his misfortune, that he might have come sooner down, in or* der to endeavour to save him from so shame- ful an end, if all he had in the world could have done it ; and his father answered, that he did not repent his not having done so, be- cause, as he had never any thing to give him, he should not have had any comfort in life, if prolonged by the ruin of so dutiful a child ; and that he was only grieved at the disgrace which the crime he suffered for must entail on him. He told him, that it was extreme po- verty, and the unwillingness he had of being burdensome to him, as he had a wife and chil- dren, wliicli had made him do that in his old age, which in his youth he should have trembled at z 2 340 THE GLEANER. NO. 39. the thoughts of; and uttered many otiier ex- pressions of grief and tenderness, which drew tears from all who were near enough to hear them ; till the officers of justice obliging them to break off any further discourse, they em- braced and parted. The old man was drai^ged to his fate ; and the young one, struck with horror, fell that instant into violent convulsion fits. The people about him had charity cnougli to give him what assistance was in their power; and hearing that, in his intervals of reason, he desired to be carried to that inn where he had left his wife, some of tliem took him up and bore him on their shoulders. The poor woman was extremely affrighted, as you may suppose, to see her husband in this condition; l)ut on inquiring where, and in what manner they found him, and being informed of tlie dreadful occasion, fell into agonies little inferior to his. A pliysician w^as immediately sent for to tliem both : the wife was soon upon her legs, but the man lay a long time ill. At lengtli, however, he returned to London, which was all tliat could be done for him: the sad suc- cess of his journey had such an effect upon him that it turned his brain, and he died soon after in a mad-house, leaving a wife and three chil- dren, in circumstances very much impaired by NO. 59. THE GLEANEK. 341 the expenses this misfortane Jiad rendered un- avoidable. How dreadful was the consequence tliat at- tended tliis man's unhappy propensity to make one among the crowd at sucli spectacles ! But thougli this was an incident which perhaps the generality of those who hurry to see executions have no reason to apprehend, yet there are many others, such as breaking legs or arms, &c. which frequently happen at such times, and are sufficient, one would think, to deter the reasonable part of mankind fi'om going to such places, if, as I said before, lumnan com- passion Avanted the power to stifle any desire of it. But, as no considerations of any kind are of weight enough to keep the generality of the common peo})le at least in tlicir own houses, when any of those sights are exhibited to the public, frequent as they are, it carmot be won- dered at tliat foreigners are so apt to accuse this nation of a certain coldness and indiffer- ence, if no more, for whatever misfortunes fall to tlie share of one another. They take notice that, except tlie English, tliere is scarce any nation in the habitable world, wlio, if they happen to meet one of the same country abroad, vrill not rejoice at seeing 342 THE GLEANER. NO. 39, him, do him all the good offices in their power, and, in fine, treat him in every respect with a brotherly tenderness and affection : whereas some of you have been known to act in direct opposition to the interest of one another, each endeavouring only to ingratiate himself with the people of the country, though to the utter ruin of those of his own, whom chance, business, or adverse fortune, may have brought there. They go yet farther, and pretend to aver that it is a kind of maxim among you, to lose two friends for the sake of destroying one ene- my ; and that, notwithstanding your extreme lukewarmness for all that concerns the one, you carry your vehemence against the other to the greatest excess that can be. How far this may be fact in regard to a few particular persons, I will not take upon me to determine ; but what is done by individuals* ought not to be a reflection on the whole. It must be owned by all lovers of truth, that in general you have given instances not only of your sincerity, but also of your warmth in friendship, greater than perhaps any nation whatever ; and, I am very sure, infinitely more than any have ever been given, even by thoe who accuse you of the v.ant of it; and that, however violent you may be when provoked. KO. 39. THE GLEANER. 343 you have always been found a most fair and generous enemy. They say too that, even in your most elegant diversions, a sanguinary disposition is discover- able in you ; those of the theatre I mean ; and, for proof of this assertion, mention several plays, particularly those intitled " The Liber- tine,'* and "Titus Andronicus;" both which con- tain only a series of the most shocking murders from their first to their last acts, and yet seldom fail of being honoured with the most crowded audiences, and numbers frequently turned away for want of room in the house to contain them, I am ready (notwithstanding this, which can- not be denied) to have so much charity for you as to believe it is rather owing to the names of the authors, some of whom have WTitten many excellent things, than to any liking of these particular pieces, that they either con- tinue to be acted, or to meet with the encou- ragement which seems to be given them when* ever they are so. It is a certain truth indeed, that, to draw the tender tear, to meliorate nature, and ex- cite soft emotions in the heart, there is no man- ner of occasion for making the theatre a kind of slaugliter-house ; the soul is more effectually moved by the representation of some great an4 344 THE GLEANER. NO. 39. generous action, which unexpectedly averts impending fate, than by seeing it fall with dreadful weight on some unhappy person's head ; and it must be acknowledged that those gentlemen, who at present write for the stage, or who have done so for some years past, are sensible of the error their predecessors were guilty of; and, wholly unwilling to encourage a blood-thirsty disposition by dressing destruc- tion in a pleasing shape, avoid as much as pos- sible, in their tragedies, those murdering scenes which with so much reason are complained of in several of the celebrated Shakspeare's, Lee's, Drydcn's, and even Otway's plays. This reformation, so happily begun in the drama, will, it is to be hoped, extend by degrees to other tilings, till manners in general become unexceptionable, and such as will leave no possi- bility of a ca\il to be made by those, who, jea- lous and envious of your good qualities, indus- triously seek to find out some bad ones, in t)rder to make tlic balance between them turn, on tlic side of tiie latter. The power of averting their endea\ours i^ lodged entirely in yourselves ; and it seems to be nu rely owing to a want of serious rejection, that you have ever failed to exert it to their confusion and your own glory. The Pakrot, No. 4. NO. 39* THE GLEANER. S4fS In the "Compendium of the Times," annexed to this num- ber, and dated Saturday, August 23, lT4'6, is the following passttge relative to the execution of two of the rebel lords : " Last Monday, the Earl of Kilmarnock and the Lord Balmerino were beheaded on Tower-hill, before the greatest concourse of people that were ever seen together on such an occasion. The former of these lords seemed fearful and irre- solute on the approach of death, and got vip three or four times from the block, in order to delay the fatal stroke : but the other behaved as he did ever since his sentence, with the greatest intrepidity and cheerfulness ; and after reading a paper he took out of his pocket to the people, plucked his clothes oft" himeelf, and put on a plaid night-cap, saying, he died a Scotchman ; then laid down his head, and immediately bid the executioner do his office ; whose hand, I am told, trembled in such a manner, that it was not without three blows the head of that unhappy lord was severed from his body. They were attended by Mr. Foster, a dissenting josinigter ; and the chapluiu of the Tower," 846 THE GLEANER. NO. 40, No. XL. : Nec te quaesiveris extra, Persius. Let your own eyes be those with which you see. Dkumhond. Having in a former paper set forth the valua* ble privileges and prerogatives of the Ear, I should be very much wanting to another mate- rial part of our composition, if I did not do jus- tice to the Eyes, and shew the influence they either have, or ought to have, in Great Britain. While the eyes of my countrymen were in a great measure the part that directed, the whole people saw for themselves ; seeing was called believing, and was a sense so much trusted to, that the eyes of the body and those of the mind were, in speaking, indifferently made use of for one another ; but I am sorry to say, that the case is now greatly altered ; and I observe with concern an epidemical blindness, or, at least, a general weakness and distrust of the eyes, scat- tered over this whole kingdom ; from which avc may justly apprehend the worst consequences. This observation must have, no doubt, oc- curred to all who frequent public places, who^ NO. 40. THE GLEANER. 347 instead of seeing so many eyes employed, as usual, either in looking at one another, or in viewing attentively the object that brings them there, we find them modestly delegating their faculty to glasses of all sorts and sizes to see for them. I remarked this more particularly at an opera I was at the beginning of this winter, where Polypheme was almost the only person in the house that had two eyes ; the rest had but one a-piece, and that a glass one. As I cannot account for this general decay of our optics from any natural cause, not having observed any alteration in our climate or man- ner of living considerable enough to have brought so suddenly upon us this universal short- sightedness, I cannot but entertain some suspi- cions that these pretended helps to the sight are rather deceptions of it, and the inventions of wicked and designing persons, to represent ob- jects in that light, shape, size, and number, in which it is their inclination or interest to have them beheld. I shall communicate to the public the grounds of my suspicion. The honest plain spectacles and reading- glasses were formerly the refuge only of aged and decayed eyes j they accompanied grey hairs, and in some measure shared their respect ; they magnified the object a little, but still they re^. 348 THE GLEANER. NO. 40. presented it in its true light and figure. Whereas, now, the variety of refinements upon this first useful invention have persuaded the youngest, the strongest, and the finest eyes in the world, out of their faculty, and convinced them that, for the true discerning of objects, they must have recourse to some of these artificial medi- ums: nay, into such disrepute is the natural sight now fallen, that we may observe, while one eye is employed in the glass, the other is care- fully covered with the hand, or painfully shut, not without shocking distortions of the counte- nance. It is very well known that there are not above three or four eminent operators for these portable or pocket-eyes, and that they engross that whole business. Now, as these persons are not people of quality (who are always above such infamous and dirty motives), it is not un- reasonable to suppose that they may be liable to a pecuniary influence; nor consequently is it improbable, t!iat an administration should tliink it worth its wfiile, e\ en at a large expense, to secure those few that are to see for the bulk of the whole nation. This surely deserves our attention. It is most certain, that great numbers of ]:)eo- plc already see objects in a very different h'ght ^'0. 40. THE G LEANER. S4D from what they ^yere ever seen in before by the naked and iindcludcd eye; which can only be ascribed to the misrepresentations of some of these artificial mediums, of which I shall enume- rate the different kinds that liave come to my knowledge. The looking-glass, which for many ages was t)ie minister and counsellor of the fair sex, has now greatly extended its jurisdiction : every body knows that that glass is backed with quick- silver, to hinder it from being diaphanous ; so lluit it stops the beliolder, and presents it again to himself. Here his views centre all in himself, iind dear self alone is the object of his contem- ])lations. This kind of glass, I am assured, is now the most common of any, especially among people of distinction ; insomucli, that nine in ten of the glasses that we daily see levelled at tiie public are in reality not diaphanous, but iigreeably return the looker to himself, while his attention seems to be ^employed upon others. The reflecting telescope has of late gained ground considerably, not only among the ladies, who chieflv view one another through that me- dium, but has even found its way into the ca- binets of princes ; in both Which cases it sug- gests reflections to those who bef<3re were not iipt to make many. S50 THE GLEANER* NO. 40< The microscope, or magnifyingglass, is an engine of dangerous consequence, though much in vogue : it swells the minutest object to a most monstrous size ; heightens the deformity, and even deforms the beauties, of nature. When the finest hair appears like a tree, and the finest pore like an abyss, what disagreeable misrepre- sentations may it exhibit, and mutually occasion between the two sexes ! Nature has formed all objects for that point of view in which they ap- pear to the naked eye ; their perfection lessens in proportion, as they leave that point ; and many a Venus w ould cease to appear one, even to her lover, were she, by the help of a microscope, to be viewed in the ambient clouds of her insen- sible perspiration. I bar Mrs. Osborne's return- ing my microscope upon me, since I leave her in quiet possession of the spectacles, and even of the reading-glasses, if she can make use of them. There is another kind of glass, now in great use, which is the oblique glass, whose tube, le- velled in a straight line at one object, receives another in at the side, so that the beholder seems to be looking at one person while another entirely engrosses his attention. This is a notorious en- gine of treachery and deceit ; and yet they say it is for the most part made use of by ministers to their friends, and ladies to their husbands. Kb. 40. *rHE GLEAlfER* S6i The smoked glass, that darkens even the lus- tre of the sun, must of course throw the black- est dye upon all other objects. This, though the most infernal invention of all, is far from being unpractised ; and I know a gentlewoman, who, in order to keep her husband at home, and in her own power, had his whole house glazed with it, so that the poor gentleman shut up his door, and neither went abroad, nor let any body in, for fear of conversing (as he thought) with so many devils. The dangers that may one day threaten our constitution in general, as well as particular per- sons, from the variety of these mischievous in- ventions, are so obvious, that they hardly need be pointed out ; however, as my countrymen cannot be too much warned against it, I shall hint at those that terrify me the most. Suppose we should ever have a short-sighted prince upon the throne, though otherwise just, brave, and wise ; who can answer for his glass- grinder? and, consequently, Avho can tell through what medium, and in what light, he may view the most important objects ? or who can answer for the persons that are to take care of his glasses, and present them to him upon occasion? may not they change them, and slip a wrong one upon him, as their interest may require^ 352 THE GLEANER. NO. 40. and thus magnify, lessen, multiply, deform, or blacken, as they think proper; nay, and by means of the oblique glass above mentioned, shew him even one object for another ? Where would the eye of the master be then ? where would be that eye divinely deputed to watch over, but shrunk and contracted within the narrow circle of a deceitful tube ? On the other hand, should future parliaments, by arts of a designing minister, with the help of a corrupted glass-grinder, have delusive and per- versive glasses slipped upon them, what might they see, or what might they not see? no body can tell. I am sure every body ought to fear they might possibly behold a numerous standing army in time of a peace, as an inoffensive and pleasing object ; nay, as a security to our liberties and properties. They might see our riches increase by new debts, and our trade by high duties; and they might look upon the corrupt surrender of their own })ower to tlic crown, as the best protection of the rights of the people. Should this ever happen to be the case, we may be sure it must 1)0 by tlic interposition of some strange medium, since these objects vv'cre never viewed in tliis liglit by the naked and unassisted eyes pf our ancestors. In this general consideration there is a parti- >J0. 40. THE GLEANER. 353 cular one that affects me more than all the rest, as the consequence of it would be the worst. There is a body of men, who, by the wisdom and for the happiness of our constitution, make a con- siderable part of our parliament ; all, or at least most of these venerable persons, are, by great age, long study, or a low mortified way of living, reduced to have recourse to glasses. Now, should their m.ediums be abused, and political translative ones be slipped upon them, what scandal would their innocent but misguided conduct bring upon religion ! and what joy would it give, at this time particularly, to the dissenters ! such as, I am sure, no true member of our church can think of without horror. I am the more apprehensive of this, from the late revival of an art that flourished with idolatry, and that had expired with it I mean the stain- ing of glass. That medium, which throws strange and various colours upon all objects, was formerly sacred to our churches; and con- sequently may, for ought I know, in the intended revival of our true church discipline, be thought a candidate wortliy of favour and reception, and so a stained medium be established as the true orthodox and canonical one, I have found it much easier to point out the mischiefs I apprehend, than the means of VOL. L 2 a 354 THE GLEANER. NO. 40. obviating or remedying them, though I have turned it every way in my thoughts. To have a certain number of persons ap- pointed to examine and license all the glasses that should be used in this kingdom, would be lodging so great a trust in those persons, that the temptations to betray it would be exceed- ingly great too ; and it is to be feared that people of quality would not take the trouble of it ; so that Quis custodiat ipsos custodes ? I once thought that a committee of both houses of parliament should be vested with that power; but I immediately laid that aside, for reasons which I am not obliged to communicate to the public. At last, despairing to find out any legal method that should prove effectual, I resolved to content myself with an earnest exhortation to all my country-folks of whatsoever rank or sex, to see with their own eyes, or not see at all; blindness being preferable to error. See then with your own eyes, ye princes ! though weak or dim, they will still give you a fairer and truer representation of objects than you will ever have by the interposition of any medium whatsoever. Your subjects are placed in the proper point of view for your natural siight J viewing them in that point, you will see NO. 40. THE GLEANER. 355 that your happiness consists in theirs, your greatness in their riches, and your power in their affections. See likewise with your own eyes, ye people ! and reject all proffered mediums : view even your princes with your natural sight ; the true rays of majesty are friendly to the weakest eye ; or if they dazzle and scorch, it is owing to the interposition of burning-glasses ; destroy those pernicious mediums, and you will be pleased with the sight of one another. In short, let the natural eyes retrieve their credit, and resume their power; we shall then see things as they really are, which must end in the confusion of those whose hopes and interests are founded upon misrepresentations and deceit. Fog's Joitrnal, April 10, 1736. 2a 2 356 THE GLEANER. NO. 41# Ko. XLI. Quae virtns, et quanta boni, sit vivere parvo, Discite. Vide> lit pallidus omnig Coena desnrgat dubia ! Grandes rhombi, patinaeque, Grande ferunt cum damiio dedecus. HORAI'. What and bow great the virtue, friends, to live On what the gods with frugal bounty give, Come learn with me. Behold how pale the sated guests arise From suppers puzzled with varieties ! Behold what infamy and ruin rise From a large dish where the large turbot liei I As I am naturally blest with a robust and healthy constitution, which I have taken care to preserve by regularity and temperance, I scarce knew what pain or sickness mean, any otherwise than by the complaints of others ; and though I am far advanced in life, enjoy my strength, my appetite, and all my senses, perfect and entire, without finding any considerable difference in myself, but that happy one of being now able to control my passions, and keep them under the command of reason, much easier than in my youtti. I am troubled with no distemper, my pulse beats free and even, my NO. 41. THE GLEANER. 357 sleep is quiet and refreshing; and from this bodily good habit results a constant serenity and calm of mind, that places me above the power of spleen or accident to discompose and ruffle. This account of myself is intended to shew my readers the happy effects of sobriety and moderation, without which it is impossible to enjoy what only a wise man would think worth living for, viz. a healthful body, and a contented easy mind. I had writ thus far, and was meditating in my elbow chair on the monstrous folly of those who sacrifice health, fortune, reputation, reason, and oftentimes life itself, to luxury and riot ; when, on a sudden, I was overcome with sleep, and dreamed as follows. Methought I found myself in a magnificent and grand apartment: the floors were inlaid wdth various figures, the cielings finely painted, and the carved cornishes gilded over with the utmost expense and art. But all this seemed nothing, compared w^ith the pictures of inestimable value, the beautiful tapestry, and stately looking-glasses, with an extrava- gance of gold, and velvet, and embroidery, of which the costly furniture W'as composed. I passed from room to room, adorned with equal but different magnificence, where innumerable wax candles, that hung in crystal branches. S58 THE GLEANER. NO. 41. diffused an artificial day : till, following a sound of voices, I entered one much larger than the rest, in the midst whereof about a dozen people of both sexes were seated round a table, covered with great variety of the choicest dainties. The company was so much engaged, that, without being taken notice of, I placed myself on a sofii in one corner of the room ; and putting on my philosophic spectacles, which see through all disguises, began to make my observa- tions. The master of the feast, to whom this sumptuous house belonged, sat at the bottom of the table, with a countenance full of mirth and gaiety : but I soon perceived that it was all affected, and that he sighed inwardly with heaviness and discontent, nor found any relish in those delights he seemed to enjoy. Those at table with him were people he had not the least regard for ; but, notwithstanding, frequently entertained in this expensive manner, through vanity and ostentation, to make himself be thought immensely rich ; though at the same time 1 discovered, by looking a little closer, that his estate was deeply mortgaged, and he had taken up money even to defray the charges of 'Jiis night's banquet. His guests, one and all, were rather amused than pleased : while with flattering speeches, and much ceremonious NO. 41. THE GLEANER. 359 complaisance, they indulged the pride of their entertainer, inwardly they despised and ridi- culed his foolish extravagance ; for, notwith- standing his great secrecy, every body knew he much outlived his income, and must soon be- come miserable and contemptible. The second course w^as just come in, which consisted of rarities purchased at vast prices, and so cooked up that I could not tell the name of any one dish : some looked as if the cook, to save the teeth a trouble, had chewed the meat before- hand ; and others seemed a complication of all tastes together, more like a vomit brought up from the stomach overcharged, than any thing designed for food. Upon examining the whole curiously, I perceived that all the elements had been ransacked to furnish out their respective delicates, which were thus artificially disguised. But I was most surprised at finding every sort of distemper incident to mankind concealed in one or other of the dishes, and all of them together mixed in some : here a fever was tossed up in a delicious fricassee ; there, an apoplexy appeared in a high ragout ; a pleurisy stood smoking at the upper end of the table, and a surfeit at tlie bottom : in one of the inter- messes, head-ache was dressed out with rich perfumes and spices j and in another, mortal sick- S60 THE GLEANER, NO. 4U ness lay covered over with marrow and strong gravy : cholic, jaundice, palsy, dropsy, spleen, and consumption, were placed against each other : scurvy in great abundance seasoned all the sauces ; with everywhere a plenteous mixture of restlessness, discontent, pains, aches, and running sores. When the dessert came on, the same distempers again appeared in different forms. After whicli, the clotli was taken away, and the table covered witli bottles of champaigne and burgundy ; wliich my spectacles discovered to contain large quantities of the gout, stone, and rheumatism, together with seeds of many other diseases. Whilst I was considering the scene before me, the company, on a sudden, appeared more lit for an hospital than an enter- tainment : some roared out with agonies of pain ; others seemed sick almost to death; some meagre, shrivelled, and decrepit; some puiTed up like bladders ; and some full of putrid sores and ulcers. The master of the feast himself was languid, pale, and helpless, fainting often, and like one expiring : when, immediately, a mixed multitude of poulterers, fishmongers, pastry- cooks, confectioners, vintners, upholsterers, coach-makers, milliners, tailors, and tradesmen of all sorts, entered in a tumultuous manner, with much noise and clamour; and, seizing the NO. 41. THE GLEANER. $61 sick man, by main force hurried him away to prison. The costly furniture was torn down and cast in heaps, and all was ruin and disorder. When, in an instant, the whole vanished, and a pleasant country appeared before me, where people, whose ruddy countenances discovered health, were singing merrily to their labour. It seemed the middle of wheat harvest, for some were reaping, others binding up the sheaves, and others carting it away. I stood, methought, to look at them with great delight ; till, leading off their work, they joined together in rustic dances, whilst a supper was preparing for them. After entertaining themselves some time with this wholesome exercise, one, who appeared some- what superior to the rest, approached me, and, with a smiling countenance, desired me to go with tliem to a thatched cottage that he shewed me at a little distance. I accepted the invita- tion, and found a table covered with homely, but clean and wholesome plenty. There were joints, both boiled and roasted, which they sat down to with lusty appetites; and a large plumb- pudding crowned the board. They had no sucli thing as wine, but well-brewed ale went roiuid in wooden canns; and, in compliment to me, the honest farmer brought forth a bottle of choice cyder, which his own orchard had 562 THE GLEANER. NO. 41. produced. I took an opportunity of putting on my spectacles, that I might discover truth from falsehood ; and, to my great satisfaction, found in all the dishes hearty nourishment, sound health, and quiet sleep. Their merriment also, upon the strictest examination, appeared sincere and unaffected, coming directly from the heart, which, tormented by no avaricious cares or anxious thoughts, enjoyed that real peace and true content the rich and great in vain seek after. In short, I was charmed with that simplicity and honesty I found among them. The farmer, who had employed them, entertained them with a friendly welcome, and they regarded him with thankfulness and esteem ; but void of those forms and professions that are so often made use of, and so often put in practice, by those who call themselves polite. I was contemplating the felicity of these happy people, when a loud knocking at the door waked me. Universal Spectator, vol. ii. p. 140.; NO. 42. THE GLEANER. 363 No. XLII. Be thou the first true merit to befriend : Hie praise is lost, who stays till all commeDd. Pope. Booksellers are the best judges whether poetry is a thriving branch of trade ; and- au- thors, whether they find a Mecsenas to reward their studies : but this the whole age is sensible of, that there never were more adventurers to Parnassus than at present ; and all who have taste and candour must acknowledge several late performances have a legitimate title to their applause. Not to mention the works of our arch-poet, who is celebrated by every pen as well as his own ; we have been obliged with an ex- cellent Essay on Human Nature, by Lord Paget ; several miscellaneous pieces, by Mr. Lyttleton ; the Chace, by Mr. Somerville ; the Economy of Love, by an ingenious Physician ; Leonidas, and London, by Mr. Glover; Grisselda, by Mr. Ogle; a canto of Spenser's Fairy Queen, by Mr. W ; and, within these few days, the Ruins of Rome, by a Gentleman, who, together with all those first mentioned, has only to communicate his name, to render it immortal. 364 THE GLEANER. NO. 42. This is one of those poems that is founded on a subject that carries inspiration along with it: Lo ! the resistless theme, imperial Rome, Fall'n, fall'n, a silent heap ! And it requires no great courage to say, never author did his subject nobler justice. If the image is sublime, the language is equal, and the measure everywhere accommodated to both. Deep lies in dust the Theban obelisk, Immense along the waste, minuter art, Gliconian forms, or Phidian, subtly fair, O'ervvhelming; as th' immense leviathan The finny brood, when, near lerne's shore, Out-stretch'd, unwieldy, his island-length appears Above the foamy flood. The last line but one errs in quantity, by bcr ing a syllable too long ; and the last line of the following passage is equally defective, by being a syllable too short. - The clcfted domes Tremble to ev'rj' wind. The pilgrim oft, At dead of night, 'mid his oraison hears The voice of time-disparting towers. Tumbling all precipitate down dash'd. Puny critics may, if they please, cavil with these liberties j but they are such as only a mas- NO. 42. THE GLEANER. 36^ terly hand is capable of; and demand not ex- cuse, but applause. Neither is his method inferior to his diction or versification. He sets out with the morning. The solemn scene Elates the soul, while now the rising sun Flames on the ruins, in the purer air Tow'ring aloft, Like broken rocks, a vast circumference ! And, from the top of the Palatine hill, points out to us every relict that art and antiquity have conspired to render sacred and venerable. Nor is the scene itself more romantically beauti- ful than he has painted it. Hence, over airy plains, by crystal founts, That weave their glitt'ring waves with tuneful lapse Among the sleeky pebbles ; agate clear, Cerulean ophite, and the flow'ry vein Of orient-jasper ; pleas'd I move along : And vases boss'd, and huge, inscriptive stones, And intermingling vines, and figur'd nymphs, Floras and Chloes of delicious mould. Cheering the darkness ; and deep, empty tombs ; And dells, and niould'ring slirines, witli old decay Rustic and green ; and wide-embow'ring shades Shot from tlie crooked clefts of nodding towers : A solemn wilderness ! With error sweet I wind the lingering step, where'er the path 366 THE GLEANER. NO. 42* Mazy conducts me, which the vulgar foot O'er sculptures maim'd has made. Thus far the imagery is general; a sort of a beautiful chaos is spread before us, but no prin- cipal figure appears to fix the attention, come forward to the eye, and preside among such a variety of attractive objects. He goes on While on each hand Historic urns and breathing statues rise, And speaking busts: sweet Scipio, Marius stern, Pompey superb, the spirit-stirring form Of Caesar, raptured with the charm of rule, And boundless fame : impatient for exploits. His eager eyes up-cast, he soars in thought Above all height : and his own Brutus see Desponding Brutus, dubious of the right In evil days ; of faith, of public weal. Solicitous and sad. Thy next regard Be Tully's graceful attitude ; uprais'd His out-stretched hand he waves, in act to speak Before the silent masters of the world, And Eloquence arrays him. yincl Eloquence arrays him. Never was a more vigorous expression used, or more happily suited to the figure on which it is bestowed! But, in a poem so starred all over with beauty as this, the prolixity of writing tires under the im- patience of giving to each individual its pro- KO. 42. THE GLEANER. 367 portion of praise ; and it must suffice to ob- serve, that, after an august review of all the grand antiquities to be seen from the eminence whence the magnificent prospect is taken, the poet breaks out into the following charming transition So revolves the scene : So Time ordains, who rolls the things of pride From dust again to dust : behold that heap Of mould'ring urns (their ashes blown away Dust of the mighty ! ) the same story tell. And, at its base (from whence the serpent glides Down the green desert street), yon hoary monk Laments the same, the vision as he views, The solitary, silent, solemn scene, Where Caesars, heroes, peasants, hermits, lie Blended in dust together ; where the slave Rests from his labours ; where th' insulting proud Resigns his power ; the miser drops his hoard ; Where human folly sleeps. There is a mood (I sing not to the vacant and the young), There is a kindly mood of Melancholy, That wings the soul and points her to the skies. How musical, when all devouring Time, Here sitting on his throne of ruins hoar. With winds and tempest sweeps his various lyre, How sweet thy diapason, Melancholy ! With this noble and majestic image the poet draws towards the close of his day's survey- 368 THE GLEANER. NO. 42w Cool evening comes ; the setting sun displays His visible, great round, between yon towers, As thro' two shady cliffs. And now, after the Aqueducts, the Capitol, the Pantheon, the Amphitheatre, the Baths of Caracalla, the Temple of Peace, Trajan's Co- lumn, and the like miracles of human genius, had successively challenged our admiration ; would one think the lowly mansion of Virgil could either keep up the spirit of the poem, or the attention of the reader : but let the picture speak for itself. Suffice it now th' Esquilian rnount to reach With weary wing, and seek the sacred rests Of Maro's humble tenement: a low Plain wall remains ; a little sun-gilt heap, Grotesque and wild: the gourd and olive brown Weave the light roof; the gourd and olive fan Their am'rous foliage, mingling with the vine. Who drops her purple clusters thro' the green. Here let me lie, with pleasing fancy sooth'd: Here flow'd his fountain ; here his laurels grew : Here oft the meek good man, tlie lofty bard, Fram'd the celestial song; or social walk'd With Horace, and the ruler of the world: Happy Augustus ! wlio, so well inspired. Could throw thy pomps and royalties aside, Attentive to the wise, the great of soul, And dignify thy mind ! NO. 42. THE GLEANER. 569 How happily is this passage touched! He docs not fcHcitate Virgil on the honour of being intimate with the ruler of the world : but the ruler of the world for his good sense in descend- ing to be intimate with Virgil. The breaks tliat follow, partake of the same delicacy and great- ness of mind : Thrice glorious days, ^ Auspicious to the muses ! But now another age, alas ! is ours Enough ! the plaint disdain ! The poet, with admirable judgment, having left the ruins of the temple of Romulus and Re- mus, for his farewell notice, takes the hint from thence to present us with an epitome of the rise, progress, and declension of the Roman greatness, which will bear twenty readings, and every time with greater pleasure than the last. The whole is too long to transcribe. But it would be un- pardonable to pass over the following illustrious passaccc in silence : -o' The Ivonian arms Triumph'd, till fame was silent to their foes. And now the world, unrivali'd, they enjoy'd In proud security. The crested helm, The plated greave and corslet hung unbrac'd : Nor clank'd their arms, the spear and sounding sljield, But on the glitt'ring trophy to the wind. VOL. I. 2 B 370 THE GLEANER. NO. 42. Dissolv'd in ease and soft delights they lie. Till every sun annoys, and every wind Has chilling force, and every rain offends ; For now the frame no more is girt with strength Masculine, nor, in lustiness of heart, Laughs at the winter storm and summer beam, Superior to their rage. Enfeebling vice Withers each nerve, and opens ev'ry pore To painful feehng: flow'ry bowers they seek (As aether prompts, as the sick sense approves). Or cool nymphean grots ; or tepid baths (Taught by the soft lonians) they, along The lawny vale, of ev'ry beauteous stone. Pile in the roseate air with fond expense : Through silver channels glide the fragrant waves. And fall on silver beds crystalline down Melodious murmuring : while luxury. Over their naked limbs, with wanton hand, Sheds roses, odours, sheds unheeded bane. Swift is the flight of wealth; unnumbered wants, Brood of voluptuousness, cry out aloud Necessity ! and seek the splendid bribe ; The citron board, the bowl emboss'd with gems. And tender foliage wildly wrcath'd around, Of seeming ivy, by that artful hand, Corinthian Thericles. Whate'er is known Of rarest acquisition ; Tyrian garbs, Neptunian Albion's high testaceous food. And flavour'd Chian wines, with incense fum'd. To slake patrician thirst; for these their rights. In the vile streets, tlvy prostitute to sale; Their ancient rights, their dignities, their laws, Their native glorious freedom. Is there none, Is there no villain, that will bind the neck >:0. 42. THE GLEANER. S71 Stretch'd to the yoke ? They come ! the market throngs ; But who has most by fraud or force amass' J? Who most can charm corruption with his doles? He be the monarch of tlie state : and lo ! Didius, vile us'rer! * througli the croud he mounts! Beneath his feet the Roman eagle cow'rs, And the red arrows fdl his grasp uncouth. O Britons ! O my countrymen ! beware ! Gird ! Gird your hearts ! the Romans once were free. Were brave, were virtuous. To conclude : if such superior, such com- manding beauties cannot awake the curiosity or excite the gratitude of the age, let no man, for the future, put his trust in tlie Muses, or flatter himself that merit is the road to reputa- tion. The hints of acknowledgement, scattered up and down this paper, are a free-will offering; and owe their rise neither to friendship, flattery, nor interest. The Champion is an utter stranger even to tlie name of the author of " The Ruins of Rome," and praises him merely because he deserves it : he is both the admirer and friend of genius, how^ever discountenanced, or obscure ; nor waits for the fashion to prompt his panegy- ric ; and though not of the illustrious society for the encouragement of learning, would make it his highest glory to assist the endeavours of all * Didius Julianus, who bought the empire. 2 B 2 S72 THE GLEANER. NO. 42, who labour, as well as he, either to instruct, de-r light, or polish mankind. Champion, March 8, 1739-40. Vol. j. p. 340. The " Ruins of Rome," though a poem of great descriptive merit, must be classed among the numerous productions in verse, which liave been neglected by caprice or bad taste. Notwithstanding the praise of the Champion, notwith- standing the felicity of the subject, this highly-finished piece, with the exception of a slight notice from Dr. Johnson, and from Hervey in his Meditations, was almost forgotten, when John Scott, in his Critical Essays, published in 1785, recalled the attention of the public to its beauties by a minute and wjll-executed critique. NO. 43. THE GLEANER. 373 No. XLIII. The ways of hciven are dark and intricate. Puzzled in m^zes, and perplex'd with errors: Our understanding traces them in vain, Addison's Cato. It was the complaint of Alplionsus, that God might have ordered many things better in the creation of the world than he has done ; but the answer of St. Augustin was as just as the censure was profme. If we complain of defect in the works of the creation, it is because we do not un- derstand them in their proper splieres and uses. Though this complaint of the philosopher, and the answer of the divine, were concerning the system of the creation, yet there are too many persons, who, concerning the accidents of life, shew the discontented temper of the first, and deserve the reproof of the latter. As nothing is more foolisli, nothing can be more unjust than the dissatisfaction which is shewn at those distributions which Providence has made : for it is not in the power of human nature to know what woidd prove really beneficial or detri- mental ; wliat would produce them a sincere joy, or plunge them into the deepest misery. S74l THE GLEANEll. NfO. 43# There is an excellent reflection, which an ancient philosopher has made on this subject : If all the misfortunes of all the men in the world were crowded together in one heap, and then every man out of this heap were to take but an equal share, he believed that every man would rather resume his own, than, after a proportionable rate, take what should then fall to him. These cursory thoughts were occasioned by a letter I have just now received and read, in which my correspondent describes in a very lively manner, the unhappiness he labours under, in having a near relation of so dissatisfied a temper, as to be often censuring the disposition of Providence ; the letter is of too private a nature to appear in public, yet I shall comply with the earnest request made in it, to shew, that though the determinations of Divine Provi- dence are past human comprehension, they are most just ; and when most censured, are best ordered for our happiness and welfare. Arguments and examples on this subject are almost infinite ; I shall therefore make use of a parable which Dr. H. More has told in his Divine Dialogues ; it may make a deeper im- pression than the closest reasoning, and, while it strikes the fancy, convince the judgment. The story runs thus : NO. 4S. THE GLEANER. 375 A certain hermit, not well satisfied with the administration of this world and its affairs, and the divers occurrences of Divine Providence in relation to it, resolved to quit his cell and travel abroad to view the course of things, and make what observations he could, whereby to form a judgment of what disturbed him. He had not gone above half a day's journey before he was overtaken by a young stranger, who came up to him, and joined company with him, who soon insinuated himself into the hermit's affections, that he thought himself happy in ha\'ini^ so soon met with so as^reeable a com- panion. As their journey lay the same way, they agreed to eat and lodge always at one house, wheresoever they came : they travelled some few days before the hermit took notice of any thing that occurred worthy his observation : but at length he could not but be concerned to see, that at a house where they were very kindly and generously entertained, his fellow-traveller, with whom in this time he had contracted an endearing friendship, at his departure stole a gold cup, and took it away with him. The hermit was astonished that his friend, whom he thought a devout Christian, should be guilty of theft and ingratitude, where he had received such particular obligations: he was, however. 376 THE GLEANER. NO. 43. resolved to see what his behaviour would be at other places before he inquired into it. At night they came to a house of as ill accommoda- tion as the other was good, and where the owner was a man of so morose and inhospitable a temper, that they were a long time denied admittance, and, when received, were treated with the utmost surliness and brutality. Yet such was the different carriage of the young traveller to the morose host, that in the morning he rewarded his inhumanity witli his gold cup, M'liich he left behind him in one of tlic windows. The hermit was not less surprised at this sight than the former, and could not fathom tlie mystery of so unequal a procedure : yet he still took no notice either of one action or the other. The next night they by agreement returned to the house from whence the cup was taken. They were treated as courteously as before, but the return for it was more shockinci; and astonish- ing ; for, at their leaving tlic place, the hermit saw his companion privately strangle a little rhild as it lay in the cradle, tlie only child of the lamily, and in wliom all the temporal happiness of both father and mother were centred. Notwithstanding this last action, he prevailed with himself to contain himseh'another day J and at night they came to a house of the NO. 43. THE GLEANER. 37t best entertainment they had met with yet, the master of it doing every thing, not only to accommodate them, but to divert them, and make their stay pleasant. In the morning, as the way they were to go was intricate, he sent a faithful servant, for whom he had the greatest esteem for his fidelity, to conduct them. Thus they travelled for a while, till, coming to a bridge, which crossed a deep and rapid stream, ,the young traveller, on a sudden, laid violent hands on the servant, and threw him over into the water and drowned him. Upon this the hermit could contain no longer, but charged his companion with ingratitude, theft, and murder : he enlarged on the heinousness of his crimes in the barbarous requitals he had made his bene- factors, and concluded, he was resolved to leave so vile and wicked a companion, return to his cell, and confine himself there for ever, rather than converse with mankind, who committed such crimes without remorse of conscience. But now beliold as strange a sight of another kind! the young man, smiling at the honest zeal of tlie hermit, putting off his mortal disguise, appeared to him in the form and lustre of an angel of God, telling him he was sent to ease his mind of the perplexity and doubts he had so long laboured under, as to the Divine Provi. 378 THE GLEANER. NO. 43i dence. What you have seen, said he, seems astonishing and unaccountable ; but, in reality, nothing could be more just and equitable; which, for want of your right understanding, has been so great an offence to you. To prove this, know, that the first man from whom the cup was taken, had the best compensation made for his kindnesses, the cup having occasioned great mischiefs while he had it: he is, indeed, courteous and hospitable, but has one great failing, which tarnishes those good deeds, that is, an inclination to drink more than becomes him ; and especially when this cup was brought out : therefore, the best office I could do was to remove this temptation, that he might be brought to a better government of himself. When I had taken away this snare, I left it with the morose inhospitable man, as a means of his destruction, that by it he might fall into intem- perance, diseases, and even death itself; for there is an enchantment in this cup, that who- soever possesses it will be in danger of being bewitched by it. But perhaps you think no- thing can be said for my strangling the little in- nocent babe in the cradle, and in a place where I had been so civilly entertained. Know then, that this was done in great mercy to the parents, and no real hurt to the child, who is now in hap- NO. 43. THE GLEANER. 379 piness in heaven. This gentleman and his wife had hitherto Hved in great reputation for their piety, justice, sobriety, and other Christian vir- tues : but, above all, their charity was eminent ; divers of their sick and indigent neighbours ow- ing their subsistence, next under God, to their munificence ; but since the birth of this child, their minds have degenerated into a love of this world ; they were no longer charitable, but their whole thoughts have been employed how to en- rich themselves and leave a great fortune to this infant and its posterity. Hence I took this mo- mentary life from the body of the child, that the souls of the parents might live for ever : and I appeal to you if this was not the greatest act of kindness and friendship to them. There re- mains one action more to defend, my destroying the servant of a gentleman, who had used me so extraordinary civil, and who professed a great esteem for his fidelity : but this was the most faithful instance of gratitude I could shew to one who used me so kindly ; for this servant was in fact a rogue, and had entered into a conspiracy to rob and kill his master. Now know, " that Divine Providence is just, and the ways of God are not as your ways, nor his thoughts as your thoughts ; for as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are his ways higher 380 THE GLEANER. NO. 43. than your ways, and his thoughts than your thoughts." At these words he vanished, leaving the good man to meditate on Mdiat had passed, and the reasons given for it ; who hereupon, transported with joy and amazement, Hfted up his hands and eyes to heaven, and gave glory to God, who had deHvered him from his anxiety about the ways of Divine Providence : satisfied as to the wisdom of God's deahngs, and those unseen reasons for them which surpass all human conception, he returned with cheer- fulness to his cell, and spent the residue of his life in piety and peace. Universal Spectator, vol. iv. p. 185. This story, upon which Parnell has founded his exquisite poem, entitled " The Hermit," occurs in the Latin " Gesta Romanorum," an analysis of which is prefixed to Warton's History of English Poetry ; it is also inserted in HowelPs Letters, and in Sir Philip Herbert's Conceptions ; but the conduct of the tale has been much improved by More, whose arrangement of the incidents is copied by the poet. The au- thor of the Universal Spectator, however, having omitted the admirable reflections which More has given us in illustration of the moral of this fable, I shall beg leave to add them. " The affairs of this world," remarks the Doctor, " are like a curious, but intricately contrived comedy ; and we cannot judge of the tendency of what is past, or acting at present, before the entrance of the lust act, which shall bring in Righ- teousness in triumph ; who, though she hath abided many a brunt, and has been very cruelly and despitefully used Jn'- therto in tlie world, yet, at last, according to our desires, we NO. 43. THE GLEANER. 381 shall see the knight overcome the giant. For what is the reason we are so much pleased with the reading romances, and the fictions of the poets, but that here, as Aristotle says, things are set down as they should be ; but in the true history hitherto of the world, things are recorded indeed as they are ; but it is but a testimony, that they have not been as they should be ? wherefore, in the upshot of all, when we shall see that come to pass, that so mightily pleases us in the reading the most ingenious plays and heroic poems, that long afflicted virtue at last comes to the crown, the mouth of all unbelievers must be for ever stopped. And for my own part, I doubt not but it will so come to pass in the close of the world. But im- patiently to call for vengeance upon every enormity before that time, is rudely to overturn the stage before the entrance into the fifth act, out of ignorance of the plot of the comedy ; and to prevent the solemnity of the general judgment by mere paltry and particular executions.'* Par. i. p. 235, Dial. 2. edit. Lond. 1668, 12mo. 382 THE GLEANER. NO. 44. No. XLIV. Some have been l)catcn, till they know What wood the cudgel's of, by the blow ; Some kick'd, until they can feel, whether A shoe be Spanish or neat's leather. Butler. When I took upon me this province of a public writer, I was resolved, to the best of my poor capacity, to make this paper entertaining as well as instructive to my readers ; in order to which, I judged it would be absolutely neces- sary, not to dwell too long upon the same sub- ject. Man, as well as woman, delights in va- riety, and the mind, as well as the palate, must have change of diet. The Quicquid agunt homines, is indeed a large field for wit and satire to exercise themselves upon ; but often of late when I had chose my subject, and sat down with design of communicating my thoughts upon it, I found, upon recollection, that I had l^een anticipated by some other authors who had lived before me. The Spectator, of moral and facetious me- mory, reformed the periwigs, the canes, and the sword-knots of the fops; nay, he tripped up their red heels, if I may be allowed that ex- KO. 44. THE GLEANER. 383 pression. As to the fair sex, he handled them from head to foot ; not a part about a line lady was left untouched. In a word, whenever I take up the Spectator, I am ready every minute to break out into the same exclamation that a poet of Gascoigny uttered upon reading over a beautiful ode of Horace. " D n these an- cients (says he), they have stolen all my fine thoughts." Writers of such universal talents, may draw something that is useful and entertaining from the most barren subjects in nature. The Spec- tator, before mentioned, has been very learned upon dancing. We have had writers, of but a second or third class in fame, who have had their excellences : a baronet of North-Britain has published a large quarto upon the Art of Fencing ; and a baronet of Worcestershire has obliged the world with a treatise of immense erudition upon the Gymnastic Science, or the Art of Wrestling. But no people come up to the Germans, in their indefatigable industry for searching an- tiquity. What immense volumes of ancient learning have they rescued from cobwebs and oblivion ! How have they worked through the rust of time, to make discoveries for the im-- provement of mankind ! And with what infinite 384- THE GLEANER. NO. 44. labour have they collected the valuable frag- ments scattered in different authors, upon sub- jects of high importance to the learned world! I myself have seen a history wi^itten by one of the German Literati, intitled " De Veterum Lucernis et Candelabris ; Of the Lamps and Candlesticks of the Ancients.'* It is certain we should be groping in the dark in search of many things belonging to antiquity, had they not held lights to us. Another, who was as bright a genius as the former, was twenty years in compiling a treatise " De Chirothecis et Ocreis; Upon Gloves and Boots." I have been credibly informed by travellers, that there is a large folio manuscript in the Elector Palatine's library, " De Miseriis Ambu- lantium J On the Misery of AValking on Foot;" in which there is a physical dissertation upon corns. There are several volumes "De Veterum Cultellis et Furcis ; Of tlic Knives and Forks of the Ancients," written by one Vanderhackle, enriched with cuts ; an art that has contributed very much to illustrate German wit. What need I mention the great Bamboozlcbergius, who has made a collection " De Mendaciis An- tiquorum ; Of the Lies of the Ancients;" which work, we liear, is sliortly to be printed here for the improvement and edification of tlic NO. 44. THE GLEANER. 385 youth of this kingdom, a certain great man having taken upon him to patronise it ; so that I hope every person in employment will be obliged to subscribe, under pain of being cashiered. I have likewise been informed, that there has been for several years in the public library at Ratisbon, a most curious manuscript " De Colophis et Calcationibus Veterum ;-^-Of the Kicks and Cuffs of the Ancients ; " written by the learned Vanhoofius ; and that a copy of this work was some years ago transmitted into England, to be laid up in the Royal Library of St. James's ; that it has been carefully revised and collated by the learned Dr. B y, who has amended an error in the title, for he has proved that the substantive Colophis, must have been an interpolation of the transcriber ; and of consequence the true reading is " De Calca- tionibus Veterum,'* which he translates thus, "Of the Kicks on the A oftlie Ancients." This shews how learning must liave suffered through the ignorance of transcribers, were it not for the accuracy of such judicious critics. To confess the plain truth, I had a design of writing something upon this subject myself, ai.d have already been at no small pains in looking over the Cotton and Bodleian libraries. I don't VOL. I. 2 c S86 THE GLEANER. NO. 44. know but it will be very well worth while to take a journey to Rome, on purpose to consult that of the Vatican ; but I am a little too much confined at present. I therefore beg the assist- ance of the learned of both our universities, and hope they will be so good to communicate whatever discoveries they may have made upon this subject, in the course of their reading; and as I should be glad to enrich this paper with the choicest flowers of antiquity, I intend to publish them here. It is a subject, well handled, that must give great satisfaction to the curious ; nay, I could wish the world was but well informed of some late truths concern- ing kicking: I fancy it would contribute towards curing the spleen of the whole nation. The stage is the representation of the world, and certainly a man may know the humours and inclinations of the people, by what is liked or disliked upon the stage ; and I have often observed a kicking to be the most diverting scene in a modern comedy. AVc liave had se- veral poets of our own nation who have suc- ceeded very well tliis way. There is a kicking betwixt Sir Harry Wildair, and Alderman Smuggler, in the comedy called the " Trip to the Jubilee ; " wliich is allowed by the ablest critics to be a master-piece of good writing : NO. 44. THE GLEANER. 387 there Is also a kicking in the " Old Bachelor," and another in the " Squire of Alsatia," which are excellently well penned. Of all the comedians who have appeared upon the stage within my memory, no one has taken a kicking with so much humour as our present most excellent Laureat, and I am informed his son does not fall much short of him in this excellence; I am very glad of it, for as I have a kindness for the young man, I hope to see him as well kicked as his father was be- fore him. Hitherto, indeed, these kickings have been only the support and ornament of the comic scene : I wish with all my heart some poet of a sublime genius would venture to write a kick- ing in a tragedy. I am very well persuaded, if an author was to introduce a king kicking a first minister, it would have a very good effect. Such an incident must certainly give great pleasure to the audience, and contribute very much to the success of the play. But to come nearer to my present purpose: I have taken no small pains in examining au- thors, to find out when tliis custom of kicking first began in the world. I am sorry the wri- ters of history have not been a little more par- 2c2 388 THE GLEANER. NO. 44. ticular in a matter of so great importance to mankind. Some of the Roman emperors, as Nero, Do- mitian, and Caligula, were given to kicking : so indeed was our Henry the Eighth; he made nothing of kicking the House of Commons. There is a box on the ear recorded of Queen Elizabeth; it was a sudden sally of jealous love; it was but a kind of aigre douceur ; and it does not appear that it was the fashion of her court. The action of kicking might be thought a little too robust for the delicacy of her sex, it might have exposed the royal legs, et cetera, to the sneers of the young fellows of the court, there- fore she modestly turned it into a box on the ear. As no man can account how fashions rise and fall, who knows but the practice of kicking upon every trifling occasion may become a fashion in this kingdom. One of the greatest wits of our nation has placed the seat of ho- nour in a certain part of the body that I don't well know how to describe. It is the part which we must not name in well-bred company, yet happy is the fair maid who shall rise with that part uppermost in a morning ; good luck shall attend her, her lover shall be kind, and all the wishes of that day shall be crowned with sue- NO. 44. THE GLEANER. 389 cess : but if I must describe it still plainer, it is the part where school-boys are punished for false concords, and for playing truant. If it should, I say, become a fashion, you would see a fellow at court, who had just received a most gracious kick on that part, return as proud as a citizen from being knighted ; and why may not the honour of knighthood be conferred this way, as well as by the sword ? And, indeed, why might not all titles be conferred this way. And again, if you should happen to see a crowd of slaves running to the levee of some court favourite in a morning, and any body should ask how comes this man to be so court- ed or so followed, the natural answer would be, he has lately been kicked into preferment. It might be turned to excellent use towards carrying on the designs of ministers of state, in case they should happen to be pursuing mea- sures apparently destructive of the liberties of their country ; for in this case, they must for their own safety, be obliged to bribe the repre- sentatives of the people ; and as they would cer- tainly bribe with tlie people's money, not with their own, and as I should think it a very right thing to save the public money, I should for that reason lunnbly propose, that kicking might be introduced into public business, instead of S90 THE GLEANER. NO. 44. bribing ; I don't doubt but it might answer all the same purposes; for I am firmly of opinion, that whoever will take a bribe will take a kicking. I believe some examples may be brought where it has been made use of with success ; men, I say, have been kicked as well as bribed into measures against their country, and there- fore it is not at all improbable but it may some time or other become a method of carrying on state affairs. If we should live to see that day, young princes, instead of riding, fencing, and dancing, would have proper m.asters provided to instruct them in kicking ; and as he that undertook to eat a sword, began by eating a dagger, so a young adept should begin by kicking his hat, before he was put to kick a man. As to the young nobility and gentry, instead of wasting their youth in studying to under- stand Horace and Virgil, they might be in- structed to take a kicking with a good grace ; by which means you would sec a polite nobiliiy, a valiant gentry, a most })ious dignified clergv, and a court that would be a constellation of tlic most illustrious personages in the kingdom. ''f here is a court of honour in all the conn- fries of Europe : in France, the mareschals or NO. 44 THE GLEANER. 391 generals preside in it ; in England, the judge of the court of honour, is hereditary in the family of the first duke in the kingdom. I should think that the ceremonial of kicking a man into a title, or a great employment, might be settled by the judges of these courts of ho- nour. If I might be worthy of advising in mat- ters of so high a nature, I should think it would be too great a fatigue for the prince himself to kick the whole court, especially in countries where the court is numerous ; I should there- fore be of opinion, that nobody should have the honour of being kicked by the sovereign, except the first minister, the principal secre- taries of state, the president of his councils, and some few others, the great officers of the crown ; but these might kick those next in employment under them, w^lio might kick the next ; and so it might gradually descend, that there should not be a man in any employment in the king- dom but what might be kicked. It is not yet indeed become a custom in any court of Europe ; the more is the pity ; for I think it would be a truly royal exercise for a prince to divert himself with kicking two or three of his ministers everv morniufj; ; it vv'ould contribute to the preservation of his own health, as well as to mending the manners of his court j 392 THE GLEANER. NO. 44. and I believe it would become a fashion some where or other, were it not that the young nobility of all nations travel to France, and are apt to retain impressions of what they see there. The barbarity of a French education will not suffer a gentleman to take a kick from any person, be he never so great, without some ter- rible consequences ; but I hope we in this nation may live to get the better of such pre- judices, which may have this good consequence, it may introduce an eloquence and politeness of manners not known in the world, except amongst the ancient Goths and modern Hot- tentots. I may say without vanity, that we are not such barbarians, but there may be found a- mongst us some great men, who can pocket up a kick or a cuff, with as good an air as they could a bribe ; and as to those splendid exagi- tations of choler, which are apt to break out into rogue and rascal, I am credibly informed some very stately persons are so used to them, they receive them with the same countenance, as " Sir, I kiss your hands." This shews we are well disposed for a reformation of manners ; yet I fear it will not grow into general imitation, unless the court should set the example, which I am afraid will not happen ; but if we should NO. 44. THE GLEANER, S93 live to see that day, the place-men must of course all fall into it ; and I think it would be pleasant enough, when a great employment be- came vacant, to see a parcel of impudent fel- lows in lace and embroidery, pressing and el- bowing to be kicked. If the common people, who are not fond of new fashions at their first rise, should discover any dislike of coming into it, why might not the standing army be employed to kick the whole nation ? Common-Sense, June 11, 1737. S94 THE GLEANER. NO. 45. No. XLV. LsBtus in praesens animus ; qnod ultra est Oderit curare, et amara lento Temperet risu. Nihil est ab omni Parte beatuin. HottAT. He who would happy live to-day Must laugh the present ills away. Nor think of w oes to come ; For corae they will, or soon, or latc^ Since mix'd at best is man's estate, By Heaven's eternal doom. Hastiwgb. Having for several days amused myself with reading over that celebrated humourist of anti- quity, Lucian ; I fell one evening into a sort of reverie, which had all the extravagance, though void of the wit and poignancy, of that celebrated author. *Twas not one of the frolics of fancy in sleep, but the pure result of the imagination, heated with what I had read, and busying itself with erecting a thousand new edifices, on tlie same ideal foundation. jVIethouglit (for a man may dream with his eyes open), the Jupiter of the ancients was again the deity in fasliion, and again disposed to familiari'^e himself to men, by admitting prayers, conferences, or even expostulations : NO. 45. THE GLEANER. S95 methought, I saw him descend in that awful, but yet conversible figure, in which Homer has described him, and it may be supposed that Phidias represented him; his brow unclouded, his eye benign, and every muscle sweetened with smiles of condescension and complacency, like the god of nature, and parent of the uni- verse : his terrors all laid by, his thunder sleep- ing ; not the judge, but the friend of man. Methought likewise, that by a sign from him, the earth lost its rotund figure, and, as Milton aptly expresses it, immediately stretched itself into longitude, becoming an immeasurable plain, hardly to be comprehended by human eyes, though viewed from the remotest of the stars, and to be distinctly surveyed by none but Jove alone. On this were assembled all the nations of the world, of all complexions, manners, and religions ; through the midst of whom two dif- ferent, nay opposite beings, continually hurried to and fi-o, present at births, and following to the grave, traversing all the stages of life, the bud of infancy, the bloom of youth, the full- blown flower of manhood, and the decay of age ; mixing witli society, visiting solitudes, equally intimate with the great and the vulgar, and, alike serving and governing the whole hum:in system. These were sisters and twins. 396" THE GLEANER. NO. 43* produced from the same parent, and brought forth at the same moment ; but totally unhke, and seeming at perpetual variance with each other. The eldest had the face of a Gorgon, held a whip of scorpions in her right hand, and a vessel of gall in her left ; with each of which she inflicted plagues and miseries wherever she came : she was felt before she was seen ; cries of horror attended her approach ; groans and agonies declared her presence, and tears re- mained even after her departure. The younger, on the contrary, had a face like Hebe, the smiles of Venus, the voice of a Syren, and all the allurements of all the Graces. Ease, joy, and ecstasy were ever in her train ; the prayers, vows, and wishes of the universe were offered solely to her ; courting her presence with blan- dishments, hailing her arrival, and soliciting her residence. A glance of her eye revived the poor, comforted the mourner, and let in a dawn of hope on the broken-hearted. In a word, power, pomp, riches, and luxury of all sorts. Were coveted only for her sake : she gave them their value, and when she refused her blessing, they instantly changed their very natures, and became corrosives, tliat, like the vulture of Prometheus, preyed on the very heart of the possessor. The names of these two potent NO. 45. THE GLEANER. 397 principles, were Pleasure and Pain ; through every climate, under all dispensations, in all ages, alike the terror and desire of mortals ! These therefore, it may be easily imagined, were the most interesting figures in the various scene before me; nor, in spite of the presence of the thunderer, could I help acknowledging their importance, or being sensible of their power. At length Mercury, by command, gave out a proclamation, that Jupiter, being con- tinually importuned with a great variety of im- pertinent prayers, was come down to grant his creatures a general boon, willing them to put up their petition, and to render it as comprehen- sible as possible ; since the god was in good humour, and would give his fiat to whatever they should agree to ask, without putting them to any expense in sacrifices, or fees to his priests. A universal burst of applause succeeded to this gracious declaration, and immediately the assembly divided itself into parties and cabals, to consider liow to make the wisest use of the golden opportunity. Soon after which, as if one soul had governed that huge body, all eyes were turned on Pain, now, as usual, busy in mischiefs, and teaching them what to ask, by what they suffered. " Pain ! Pain is Uie uni- 398 THE GLEANER. NO. 45. versa! evil ! ** exclaimed the voice of the whole ^arth ; "rid us of that ; we ask no more ! *Tis she has defeated the benign purposes of heaven, blended herself with the whole product of na- ture, corrupted the very elements we are form- ed of, and made life itself a curse. Whereas, once removed, the heavens will be all sunshine, and star-light ; the ocean will smooth itself into calms, and earth convert itself into a new ely- sium. Rid us of Pain then, almighty Jupiter ! In that one complicated curse, is contained all we would deprecate ! all we would avoid ! As soon as their petition was preferred, the god was seen to smile ; and giving his assent, by the majestic nod of acceptance and favour. Pain instantly disappeared, and the whole as- sembly, which was the moment before agitated like the tumultuous billows of the ocean, re- mained fixed and motionless as statues : not a limb, not a tongue, not an eye was moved. Actions begun, sentences half uttered, thoughts in embrio, all remained suspended: a dead calm seemed to benumb and stupify the whole crea- tion. Pleasure appeared now to be connected by secret, and till tlicn invisible ties to her sister Pain ; and wlien one was removed, the other was compelled to follow. These, then, were manifestly the weights to the machine j KO* 45. THE GLEANER. 399 and, of course, were no sooner taken off, but all the wheels stood still. As there was nothing to shun, there was nothing to desire ; conscious and unconscious beings were both reduced to the same level ; and if animal life remained for a while after, it was owing to the impulse for- merly given it, and would lessen every moment till it stopped for ever. When this surprising, but affecting scene had taken place, methought the god, as sufficiently diverted with the folly of his votaries, by a second signal, introduced the two sisters again; at whose appearance the vast wheel of life re- newed its former office ; and the late clamour- ous petitioners seemed more abashed at their error, than pleased to have it removed : which the god foreknowing, explained himself thus : *' Children ! I do not blame your mistake, since I foresaw it was inevitable : neitlier do I insult you with my power and wisdom, at the expense of my goodness or justice. You are all my creatures ; of course equal in my esteem, and I have exactly proportioned your pleasures to your pains. You cannot reproach sleeping matter for being incapable of pleasure, since it is equally free from pain; neither could matter, if endued with voice, insult your pain, since it is recompensed with an equal sense of pleasure. 400 THE GLEANER. NO. 45. Framed as you are, pain and pleasure must both enter at the same door ; and that you so are framed, is a proof you are framed aright." At these words, Jupiter and his herald dis- appeared, the scene changed, and I found the world, at my return, just as I left it. Champion, vol, i. p. 200. Jan. 19, 1739-40, NO. 46. THE GLEANER. 401 No. XLVr. Simulacra eorum. Quorum, morte obita, tellus amplectitur ossa. Lucretius. The spectres pale Of thosft whose bones the tomb has long embrac'd. Good. The number of those, who, to serve some pri- vate end, have racked their invention to im- pose on others, is small, when compared with those who are themselves imposed upon by the force of their own imagination: there are people of so timid a nature, that they take every sha- dowy which the moon makes by her shine on distant objects, for a ghost : I know one, who in other things wants not courage, yet happen- ing to pass, after sun-set, through a churcli-yard in the country, was so terrified with the sight of an old yew-tree that grew there, that he fell into a fit, which he might never have recovered from, had not some people who knew him chanced to come the same way, and seeing him lie there, applied proper means to bring him to himself The first use he made of speech, was to tell them he had seen the apparition of his eldest brother, who had died about a year be- VOL. I, 2d 402 THE GLEANER. NO. 46. fore ; that he nodded his head at him, and spread his arms as though he wanted to em- brace him. On his pointing to the place where he fancied he saw the ghost, they presently guessed the truth ; but though they endeavour- ed to make him sensible of it, and alleged how great a probability there w^as that his eyes might be deceived, by the form in which the tree was cut, yet either the difference of the attitude he now was in, or the beams of the moon playing less direct upon it than before, it appeared not the same to him it had done, and he could not be prevailed upon for a great while to believe, that he had not in reality seen a spirit. It is certain that the reflection which the moon makes, or even a twilight, without the assistance of that planet, on objects, at some times, gives them an apppearance very different to what they have in reality, and a person of the best sense and resolution may at first sight be a little startled ; but in such a case, I think one should call reason to one's aid, and con- sider how many accidents may possibly occasion such a deception of the visual ray, before one concludes the shade is a visitor from the other world. Between seven and eight years ago, when the NO. 46. THE GLEANER. 403 royal vault in King Henry's chapel was opened for the interment of her late majesty, Westmin- ster-Abbey was a place of great resort, some flocking thither out of curiosity, others to in- dulge their more solemn meditations : by the former of these motives it was, that five or six gentlemen, who dined together at a tavern, were drawn to visit that famous repository of the titled dead. As they looked down the steep descent, by which so many monarchs had been carried to their last resting-place on earth, one cried " It is hellish dark ;" another stopped his nostrils, and exclaimed against the noisome va- pour that ascended from it : all had their dif- ferent sayings ; but as it is natural for such spectacles to excite some moral reflections, even in the most gay and giddy, they all returned with countenances more serious than those with which they had entered. Having agreed, however, to pass the evening together, they all went back to the same place where they had dined, and the conversation turning on a future state, apparitions, and such like topics ; one among them who was a perfect infidel in these matters, especially as to spirits becoming visible, took upon him to rally the otliers, who seemed rather inclinable to the contrary way of thinking. 2D 2 404 THE GLEANER. NO. 46 As it is much easier to deny than it is to prove, especially when those who maintain the negative will not admit, as valid, any testimony which can be brought in contradiction to their own opinion, he singly held out against all they had to allege ; at length, to end the contest, they proposed him a wager of twenty guineas, that, as great a hero as he pretended or really imagined himself, he had not courage enough to go alone, at midnight, into the vault they had been seeing that day : this he readily ac- cepted, and was very merry on getting such a sum with so much ease. The money on both sides was deposited in the hands of the man of the house, and one of the vergers of the abbey sent for, whom they en- gaged for a piece of gold, to attend the adven- turous gentleman to the gate of the cathedral, then shut him in, and wait his return. Every thing being thus settled, the clock no sooner struck twelve than they all set out to- gether ; those who had laid the w^agcr being re-olved not to be imposed upon by his tam- pering with the verger : as they passed along, another scruple arose, which was, that though they saw him enter the church, how they should be convinced he went as far as the vault ; but he instantly removed it, by pulling out a pen- NO. 46. THE GLEANER. 405 knife he had in his pocket ; " This," he said, " I will stick into the earth, and leave it there; and if you do not find it in the inside of the vault, I will own the wager lost." These words left them nothing to suspect, and they agreed to wait at the door his coming out, beginning now to believe he had no less resolution than he had pretended. It is possible the opinion they had was no more than justice ; but whatever stock of courage he had on his first entrance into that antique and reverend pile, he no sooner found himself shut into it alone, than, as he afterwards confessed, he found a kind of shuddering all over him, which he was sensible proceeded from some- thing more than the coolness of the night. Every step he took was echoed by the hollow ground ; and though it was not altogether dark the verger having left a lamp burning just be- fore the door that led to the chapel, otherwise it would have been impossible for him to have found the place, yet did the faint glimmering it gave, rather add to than diminish the solemn horrors of every thing around. He passed on, however, but protested, that had not the shame of being laughed at prevented him, he would have forfeited more than twice the sum he had staked, to have been out again. 406 THE GLEANER. NO. 46. At length, sometimes groping his way, and some^ times directed by the distant lamp, he reached the entrance of the vault ; his inward tremor increased ; yet, determined not to be overpower- ed by it, he descended, and being come to the last stair, stooped forward, and stuck his pen- knife with his whole force into the earth ; but as he was rising, in order to turn back and quit that dreadful place, he felt something, as he thought, suddenly catch hold of him, and pluck him forward. The apprehensions he before was in, made an easy way for surprise and terror to seize all his faculties ; he lost in one instant every thing that could support him, and fell into a swoon, with his head in the vault, and part of his body on the stairs. Till after one, his friends waited with some degree of patience, though they thought he stayed much longer in that habitation of the dead than they could imagine a living man would choose to do ; but finding he came not then, began to fear some accident might have befallen him, as indeed there had, thougli they were far from suspecting of wliat kind ; but there being many windings and intricate turnings among the tombs, it seemed probable he might have mistook his way, and be unable to find it again through those recesses. NO. 46. THE 6LEANER. 407 They debated among themselves what they should do in the affair ; the verger, they found, though accustomed to the place, did not care to go alone, therefore they resolved to accom- pany him, and accordingly, preceded by a torch which a footman of one of the company had with him, went into the abbey, calling as they went, as loud as they could ; thinking, that wherever he might be wandered, he could not but hear their voices. No answer, however, being returned, they moved on till they came to the stairs of the vault, where looking down, they soon perceived in what posture he lay, and the condition he was in : they immediately ran down to him, rubbed his temples, unbuttoned his clothes, and did every thing they could think on to bring him to himself, but all in vain ; and they were obliged to take him up and carry him between two, till they got out of the abbey, when, the air coming fresh upon his face, he recovered of himself. After two or three deep groans, " Heaven help me," " Lord have mercy upon me," cried he : these words, and others of the like nature, very much surprised them ; but imagining he was not yet perfectly come to his senses, they forbore saying any thing to him till they had 408 THE GLEANER. NO. 46. got him into the tavern, where having placed him in a chair by the fireside, they began to ask him how he did, and how he came to have been so much disordered ; on which, he ac- quainted them with the apprehensions he was seized with immediately after he had left them, and how, having stuck his penknife into the floor of the vault, according to the agreement, he w^as about to return with all the haste he could, when something plucked him forward into the vault ; but added, that he had neither seen nor heard any thing but what his reason might easily account for, and should have come back with the same sentiments he \vent, had not this unforeseen hand convinced him of the injustice of his belief. While he was making his narrative, one of the company saw the penknife sticking through the fore lappet of his coat ; on which, presently conjecturing the truth, and finding how deeply affected his friend was by his mistake, as indeed were all the rest, not doubting but his return had been impeded by a supernatural hand, he plucked out the knife before them, and cried out, " Here is the mystery discovered ; in the attitude of stooping to stick this into the ground, it happened, as you see, to pass through the coat; and on your attempting to rise, the terror NO. 46. THE GLEANER. 409 you were in magnified this little obstruction, into an imaginary impossibility of withdrawing yourself, and had an effect on your senses, be- fore reason had any time to operate. Female Spectator, vol. ii. p. 244. That the tales of ghosts and apparitions, of haunted houses, j &c. &c. may, if a proper inquiry be instituted, almost cer- > tainly be traced to a clear and natural cause, there is every \ reason, from accunmlated experience, to believe. The book,,, however, from which we have taken this striking proof of tlie effects of an alarmed imagination, is inclined to place con- fidence in some modern details of immaterial agency ; but the story of the mistresses of Charles and James the second, which the Female Spectator has brought forward as worthy of belief, is greatly too trifling and inefficient to merit a moment's credence. The two following narratives, which are vouched as facts, and are curious instances of the develope- ittent of what at first seemed altogether supernatural, will probably amuse the reader. ** Some few years since, before ghosts and spectres were properly introduced among us, by means of the pantomimes and novels of the day, a gentleman of a philosophical turn of mind, who was hardy enough to deny the existence of any thing supernatural, happened to pay a visit at an old house in Gloucestershire, whose unfortunate owner had just become a bankrupt, with a view to offer such assistance and consola- tion as he could bestow ; when, on one rainy dull evening in the month of March, the family being seated by the kitchen fire-side, the conversation turned on supernatural appear- ances. The philosopher was endeavouring to convince his auditoi's of the folly and absurdity of such opinions, with rather an unbecoming levity, when the wife left the party, and went up stairs ; but had hardly quitted the kitchen three minutes, before a dreadful noise was heard, mingled with 410 THE GLEANER. NO. 46. the most horrid screams. The poor maid changed counte- nance, and her red hair stood erect in every direction ; the husband trembled in liis chair, and the philosopher began to look serious. At last the husband rose irom his seat, and ascended the stairs in search of his wife, when a second dreadful scream was heard ; the maid nmstered resolution to follow her master, and a third scream ensued. The philoso- pher, who was not quite at ease, now thought it high time for him to set out in search of a cause ; when, arriving at the landing-place, he found the maid in a fit ; the master lying flat, with his face upon the floor, which was stained with blood ; and on advancing a little farther, the mistress in nearly the same condition. To her the philosopher paid immediate attention ; and, finding she had only swooned away, brought her in his arms down stairs, and placed her on the floor of the kitchen ; the pump was at hand, and he had the presence of mind to run to it, to get some water in a glass ; but what was his astonishment, when he found that he pumped only co- pious streams of blood ! which extraordinary appearance, joined to the other circumstances, made the unbeliever tremble in every limb ; a sudden perspiration overspread the surface of his skin ; and the supernatural possessed his imagi- nation in all its true colours of dread and horror. Again and again he repeated his efforts, and again and again tlrrew away the loathsome contents of the glass. *' Had the story stoppc^d here, what would not superstition have made of it ! but the philosopher, who was still pumping, now found the colour grow paler, and at last pure water filled the vessel. Overjoyed at this observation, he threw the limpid stream in the face of the mistress, whose recovery was assisted by the appearance of her husband and lictty. " The mystery, when explained, turned out to be simply this: the good housewife, when she knew that a docket had been struck against her husband, had taken care to conceal some of iier choice cherry-brandy, from the rapacious gripe of the messenger to the commissioners of bankrupts, on some NO. 46, THE GLEANER. 411 shelves in a closet up stairs ; which also contained, agreeable to the ancient architecture of the building, the trunk of the pump b^Iow ; and, in trying to move the jars to get at a drop for the party at the kitchen fire, the shelf gave way with a tremendous crash, the jars were broken into a hundred pieces, the rich juice descended in torrents down the trunk of the pump, and filled with its ruby current the sucker beneath ; and this was the self-same fluid, which the philosopher, in his fright, had so madly thrown away. The wife had swooned at the accident ; the husband in his haste had fallen on his nose, which ran with blood ; and the maid's legs in her hurry, com- ing in contact with her fallen master's ribs, she, like ' vault- ing ambition,' overleaped herself, and fell on the other side. " Often has this story been told, by one who knew the philosopher, with great effect, till the last act or denouement ; when disappointment was mostly visible in the looks of his auditors, at finding there was actually nothing supernatural in the aftair, and no ghost." Brewer's Hours of Leisure, p. 61 . et seq. " At a town in the west of England, was held a club of twenty-four people, which assembled once a week to drink punch, smoke tobacco, and talk politics. Like Ruben's aca- demy at Antwerp, each member had his peculiar chair, and the president's was more exalted than the rest. One of the members had been in a dying state for some time ; of course his chair, while he was absent, remained vacant. " The club being met on their usual night, inquiries were naturally made after their associate. As he lived in the ad- joining house, a particular friend went himself to inquire for him, and returned with the dismal tidings that he could not possibly survive the night. This threw a gloom on the company, and all efforts to turn the conversation from the sad subject before them were ineffectual. " About midnight (the time, by long prescription, appro- priated for the walking of spectres), the door opened, and the 412 THE GLEANER. NO. 46. form, in white, of the dying, or rather of the dead man, walked into the room, and took his seat in the accustomed chair there he remained in silence, and in silence was he gazed at. The apparition continued a sufficient time in the chair to convince all present of the reality of the vision ; at length he arose, and stalked towards the door, which he open- ed as if living went out, and then shut the door after him. ** After a long pause, some one at last had the resolution to Bay, * If only one of us had seen this, he would not have been believed, but it is impossible that so many persons can be deceived.' " The company, by degrees, recovered their speech ; and the whole conversation, as may be imagined, was upon the dreadful object which had engaged their attention. They broke up and went home. *' In the morning, inquiry was made after their sick friends- it was answered by an account of his death, which happened nearly at the time of his appearing in the club. There could be little doubt before, but now nothing could be more certain than the reality of the apparition, which had been seen by so many persons together. " It is needless to say, that such a story spread over the country, and found credit even from infidels : for, in this case all reasoning became superfluous, when opposed to a plain fact attested by three and twenty witnesses. To assert the doctrine of the fixed laws of nature was ridiculous, when there were so many people of credit to prove that they might be unfixed. " Years rolled on the story ceased to engage attention, and it was forgotten, unless when occasionally produced to silence an unbeliever. " One of the club was an apothecary. In the course of his practice he was called to an old woman, whose profession was attending on sick persons. She told him, that she could leave the world with a quiet conscience, but for one thing which lay on her mind ' Do not you remember Mr. * * *^ who've jjhost has been ao much talked of? I was his nurse* NO. 46. THE GLEANEK. 413 The night he died I left the room for something I wanted I am sure I had not been absent long ; but at my return, I found the bed without my patient. He was delirious, and I feared that he had thrown himself out of the window. I wa so frightened that I had no power to stir ; but after some time, to my great astonishment, he entered the room shiver- ing, and his teeth chattering laid down on the bed, and died. Considering myself as the cause of his death, I kept this a secret, for fear of what might be done to me. Though I could contradict all the story of the ghost, I dared not do it. I knew, by what had happened, that it was he himself wlio had been in the club room (perhaps recollecting that it was the night of meeting) ; but I hope God and the poor gentle- roan's friends will forgive me, and I shall die contented." Jackson's Four Ages, p. 224, et seq. 414 THE GLEANER. N(V 47* No. XLVII. Of lovers' sad calamities of old Full many pitpous stories doe remainej But none more piteoua ever was ytold Tbaa this. Spevser. Jeffery Rudel, a young nobleman of Pro- vence, was one of the handsomest and most pohte persons of the age he lived in. King Richard the first, of England, who for his un- daunted spirit was surnamed Coeur de Lyon, having passed some part of his youth in Pro- vence, became exceedingly intimate with him ; and when he came to the crown, sent to entreat he would not forget their former friendship so far as not to make him a visit. JefFery Rudel accepted tlie invitation, came over, and was the first that revived poetry in England, after it had lain dormant several hundred years. There are verses of his composing still extant in the hands of some of the ancient nobility and gentry of this kingdom ; and Mr. Rymer tells us, that there are many more in the library of the grand Duke of Tuscany. NO. 47. THE GLEANER. 415 When King Richard made his crusade in the Holy Land, this JefFery went with him, and proved himself no less a hero in the time of battle, than he was a courtier in the time of peace. He was a prisoner with that prince in Germany, when on his return from fighting the battles of Christ, he was seized by the treacher- ous Duke of Austria, and detained three whole years, for so exorbitant a ransom, as scarce the whole wealth of England could discharge ; an obligation to the House of Austria which many ages had cause to remember ! but time erases all things, and we are a forgiving people. This however is not to the purpose of my his- tory: the present descendant of that family will doubtless make atonement for all injuries of- fered to us by her predecessors, as well as am- ply recompense the favours she in person has received. Liberty at last regained, he came not with the king of England, but passed into Bretagne, the inheritance of prince Geoffry, brother to Coeur de Lyon, and who was father to that un- happy Arthur, who lost liis life in the usurpa- tion of his uncle John. There did lie hear such wonders of the beauty, wit, learning, and virtue of the countess of Tripoly, that he became more 416 THE GLEANER* NO. 47. truly enamoured of her character, than is com- mon in our days for men to be with the most perfect original, that nature ever framed, or art improved. Neither his friendship for prince GeofFry, nor the persuasions of the nobihty of Bretagne, by whom he was extremely respected and beloved, could prevail on him to stay any longer there. He hired a vessel, and with the first fair wind set sail for Tripoly. But though his passion made him thus obsti- nately bent to forsake all that besides was dear to him in the w^orld, and run such hazards for the sight of the beloved object, yet his good sense sometimes remonstrated to him, that the adventure he undertook had in it something romantic ; and the uncertainty how he might be received on his arrival, filled him with the most terrible agitations. To alleviate the melancholy he was in during his long voyage, he poured out the overflowings of his soul, in many odes and sonnets ; but as they were all in tlic Proven9al tongue, I for- bear to transcribe tlicm ; only, to shew in what manner the poets of those days wrote, will give my readers one, as I find it translated into English by Mr. Kymer. NO. 47. THE GLEANEiR, 417 I. Sad and heavy should I part. But for this love so far away ! Not knowing what my ways may thwart, My native land so far away. II. Thou that of all things Maker art, And form'st this love so far away. Give body strength, then shan't I start From seeing her so far away. III. How true a love to pure desert, Is love to her so far away. Eas'd once, a thousand times I smart, Whilst, ah ! she is so far away. IV. None other love, none other dart I feel, but hers so far away. But fairer never touch'd an heart, Than her's that came so fur away. My author says, that never voyage was more unprosperous; that they had great storms, which obliged them more than once to put into port to refit, and sometimes were so becahned that the ship could not make any way, but seemed almost motionless : but their worst misfortune was, they were attacked by ^wo Turkish gallies, which but for the extraordinary valour and'bon- VOL. I, 2 E 418 THE GLEANER. NO. 47. duct of Jeffery Rudel, had made them all pri- soners. He received, however, several wounds, the anguish of which joined to his other fatigues, and the more severe anxiety of his mind, threw him into a languishing distemper, which every moment threatened dissolution. They met by accident with a ship bound for the southern part of France ; which being so near his own country, he was very much per- suaded by the commander to go on board him, and turn back : he alleged to him, that in the condition he then was, nothing could be more improper than to prosecute his intentions ; that probably his native air might be of service to him ; and that when he was recovered, he might again set out for Tripoly, with more probability of success. But all this, though highly reasonable, had no effect. The weak and decayed situation of his body had no influence over his mind; which, be- ing wholly taken up with the perfections of the beautiful countess, made him resolute to pro- ceed, whatever should be the consequence. In fine, he continued his voyage, and, no ill accidents afterwards intervening, arrived safe at his so-much-wished-for port. When he was told, as he lay in his cabin, that they had drop- ped anchor, and were in view of the towers of l^O, 47. THE GLEANEll. 419 Tripoly, he lifted up his eyes and hands to hea- ven, giving thanks that, after all his sufferings, he had the happiness, at last, of breathing the same air with that admirable lady he had come so far in search of. One, who was less a lover than he was, would have thought this a poor compensation, when, with all the efforts he made, he found himself unable to rise out of his bed ; but he received much more than he expected, or indeed had reason to do. The countess, being informed who was in the vessel, and the motive which had brought him there, as well as the condition to which he was reduced, had gratitude and com- passion enough to come and visit him, ardently wishing that this condescension might restore him to that health he had lost for her sake : but, alas ! he was too far gone ; inexorable death triumphed over the purest love that ever was. His eyes were closed, as those about him thought, for ever, but suddenly opened, on his hearing she was there ; she took him by the hand, and, in the sweetest accents, told him she was pierced to the heart to think so worthy a man should have exposed himself to such innumera- ble dangers. " All, all,*' cried he, eagerly gazing on her, as though he would carry her 2 E 2 420 THE GLEANER. NO. 4*7. image with him to the other world, " all my sufferings, in beholding you, are overpaid." He concluded this expression with a fervent kiss on her hand, and in that action expired. So rare an example of an unfeigned affection must have necessarily affected any woman of a generous soul ; but it made so deep an impres- sion on that of this amiable countess, that she lamented his loss as of a lover who had long been dear to her. She devoted all that tenderness to his memory, which had he lived had rendered him the happiest of mankind. She had his body conveyed on shore, and buried in the most sumptuous manner, and erected for him a tomb of porphyry and jasper, intermixed with an epi- taph in Arabic verse ; had all his sonnets and odes curiously copied over in letters of gold ; and after she had done all she could think on to perpetuate his name, she took a vow of chas- tity, founded a monastery, of which she herself was abbess, and endowed it with her whole for- tune. Female Spectator, toI. ii. p. 312. This narrative, singular and extravagant as it may appear, there is every reason to suppose is founded upon fact. It is recorded as such by Nostradamus, and by M. de Sainte Pa- laye and the Abbe Millot, in their Histoire Litteraire des KO. 47. THE GLEANER. 421 Troubadours ; and by tbose who are familiar with tlie manners of chivalry, and with the history of the ancient Provengal poets, it will not be considered as an overcharged picture of the gal- lantry and fashion of that romantic period. Jeffrey Rudel has been celebrated by Petrarch. A MORNING PIECE. BRISK Chanticleer his matins had begun. And broke the silence of the night, And thrice he call'd aloud the tardy sun, And thrice he hail'd the dawn's ambiguous light: Back to their graves the fear-begotten phantoms run. Strong Labour got up with his pipe in his mouth. He stoutly strode over the dale ; He lent new perfume to the breath of the south ; On his back hung his wallet and flail. Behind him came Health from her cottage of thatch, Where never physician had lifted the latch. First of the village Colin was awake, And thus he sung, reclining on his rake : Now the rural Graces three Dance beneath yon maple-tree ; First the vestal Virtue, known By her adamantine zone; Next to her, in rosy pride. Sweet Society the bride ; Last Honesty, full seemly dress'd In her cleanly home-spun vest. 422 THE GLEANER. NO. 47. The abbey-bells in wakening rounds The warning peal had given ; And pious Gratitude resounds Her morning hymn to Heaven. Student, vol. i. p. 274. I have omitted the eighteen subsequent lines of this poem, as being much inferior to their predecessors. Smart, the author of this beautiful imagery, communicated several poetical pieces to the Student, of which I have inserted in this place and in No, 67, a portion of two bymni. END OF VOL. I. C. Bsldwio, Printer, New Bridge Street, I.orvlon. GENERAL INDEX. NO. Abah Rabieh story of 62 Abuse of words, observations on 130 Academy for the cultivation of our language, re- marks in favour of such an institution 113 Note Acasto, a country gentleman, no great believer in ghosts and spirits 3 Addison, his reflections on the tombs of Westmin- ster Abbey 23 . . , his style criticised by Sir John Hawkins 115 Note the Monthly Re- view ib. i , vindication and character of his style . . 115 Adventurer, remarks on a passage in No. 127 of 110 Adventures of Emma 177 180 Advice to see with our own eyes 40 African Boy, a fragment 156 Ages, dark, literature of 110 Note Agrestis, story of 128, 129 Akenside, quotation from 49 Note Alfarute, story of 8 Alibez, his history 33, S^ Allegory on Wit and Beauty 52 Allen Brooke, a poem 175 Allusion, local, censured in poetry 107 Almond-tree described, with the operation of bees in its flowers 54 Amata, character of, how treated by Virgil .... 99 GENERAL INDEX. NO. Anecdote of a haunted house 154 s of Collins 187 Animalcules in a pond of water 73 in frozen grass, viewed through a microscope 58 Apparition, supposed appearance of one 46 Note Arabs, credulity of 37 Note Ariosto, critical remarks on 166 Aristotle, his criticism on the fable of tragedy .. 79 Pye's translation of, quoted ib. Note Artists, English, on the neglect of 91 Arts, fraudulent, of dealers in pictures ib. Asinius Pollio, his custom of spending the day 14 Astronomical studies, pleasures and advantages of 57 Athenais, her story 15 Attachment to family, good effects of 128, 129 Badajoz, Dean of, a tale 153 Baker's, jNIr., method of curing cows 104 Beaufort, Cardinal, strictures on Sir Joshua Reynolds's picture of 167 Note Beaumont and Fletcher, observations on a song of 98 Beckford, Right Hon. William, letter to 104 Bee-fly described , , , 68 Bees, their operation in the blossoms of the almond- tree 54 Beings, subserviency of the several series of, in the visible creation 75 Bell of Arragon, an Ode so entitled 187 Bentivoglio, critical remarks on 166 Bianco, story of liis telling 17 Bible, its preference to all books 85 , English translation of, praised 162 Note Biographical and literary anecdotes of Collins .. 187 Blackmorc, not inferior in his designs to the poets of antiquity 107 GENERAL INDEX. KO. Bland, Mr., his translation of a passage from Ca- tullus 62 Note Blindness, epidemical 40 Bonaparte, one of the wonderful men of low stature 101 Note Bossuet, critical remarks on 158 Bourdaloue, remarks on 158 Bradstreet's " Sabine Farm," beautiful quotation from i 101 Note Braminto, his history 29 Brewer's " Hours of Leisure," story from .... 103 Note British manners and customs described by Omai 127 Buckingham, Duke of, his custom 17 Burton, his *' Abstract of Melancholy" quoted . . 98 Note Canvas, Mrs., description of her and her family . . 91 Carnation, with its insects, viewed by a microscope 84? Cartoons of Raphael commended 6 Cases, medical, on the marvellous and irrelevant in 11 Caterpillar and fly, history of 75 Catullus, passage from, translated 62 Note Cebes, his allegory imitated 18 Cervantes, critical remarks on 176 Cha- Abbas, king of Persia, his story 33, 34- Character of Addison's style 115 Dr. Johnson 123 Dr. Johnson by Cumberland .... ib. Note Eucharis 143 Chastity, that of women ; the Eastern people, how jealous of it, exemplified by a tragical story . . 62 Chaucer, examples of locality from , 107 Chiron, moral of his story 70 Christianity, nominal, inefficacy of 106 Cibber, the comedian, excellent in what 44 Cicada, Anacreon's poem on 84 Cicero, a thought of his 16 GENERAL INDEX. tfo. Classical learning, observations on 158 Coalition between Painting and Poetry 167 Collins, anecdotes of 187 compared with Tasso lb. Note 's Bell of Arragon, an Ode, remarks on ib. Note Comedy, criticism on , . . . 8S Comus, the most delightful poem of Milton .... 174 Note Contempt, proneness to, a mark of a bad mind and temper 80 Conversation, directions for the proper use of . . 116 -, quotations from Cowper on ib. Note Country, native, folly of being discontented with 175 Courtship, rural 61 Cowper, quotations from 116 Note Cows, method of curing KM- Creation, visible, subserviency of the several series of beings in 75 Creatures, universal obligation to their Creator , . 85 Criminal, dying speech of one 10 . -, letter from one going to be executed . . ib. Critical remarks on Ariosto 166 . . Bentivoglio ib. the Enghsh translation of the Bible 162 Note . Bossuet 158 Bourdaloue ib. Cervantes 170 Classical learning 158 Comedy 83 -^ Davila 166 Epic Poetry 74- Ercilla ., 170 Fenelon 158 Flechier ib. Franklin , 155 Gibbon ] 57 Goldoni 166 GENERAL INDEX. KO. Critical remarks on Gregory 157 Guarini 166 Guicciardini ib. - Hume 155 Machiavel 166 Mariana 170 Massillon 158 Metastasio 166 - Mexio 170 Raynal 158 -. Robertson . . , , 155 Rousseau 158 Note Shakspeare 162 Sterne ib. Stuart, Gilbert 157 . -Tasso 166 Tragedy 79 . Voltaire 158 Criticism on a song of Beaumont and Fletcher . . 98 Milton's II Penseroso ib. Critics, a discourse upon them, and criticism , . 2 Critique on Epitaphs 136 . the " Knave of Hearts," an Heroic Poem 111,112 Satirical Writers 134 Cruelty defined 69 Cumberland, Mr. his character of Dr. Johnson . . 123 Note Curate, country, tale of 159 161 Dark ages, an account of the literature of ... . 110 Note Davila, critical remarks on 166 Dean of Badajoz, tale of 153 Death, a vision 59 , reflections on 23 Declension of the Romans 13 Descriptions in Poetry, the reason why they please > 7 GENERAL INDEX. NO. Descriptions in Poetry, additional ib. Note Design, unity of, in poetry 107 Desultory observations on the Robbers of Schil- ler 181, 182 Devonshire, Duchess of, her Poem on the death of Sir William Jones 165 Note Dew, whether it falls or rises , . . . . 63 Dial, an account of the first among the Romans 1 3 Diary of a Lover of Literature, extract from .... 158 Not Dido, silence of, at the sight of i^neas, accounted for in a new way ^ 97 Diet, on temperance in 122 Dionysius, liis opinion of Herodotus 150 Note Directions for the proper use of conversation , . 116 Distresses of a modest man 135 Divorce, temple of, a vision 24* Dogs, sagacity of 140 Note Douce, Mr., his defence of Sir Joshua Reynolds's picture of Cardinal Beaufort 167 Note Dream of a stone city in Africa 37 an election in Parnassus, 100 luxury -il , Parnassus, a 92 , Sacrifice to the Graces, a 96 Dress, judgment of persons to be formed by it 35 , how to be adapted ib. , the business of the fair sex ib. , when to abate in it ib. Drummond of Hawthornden, on the character and writings of 151 , Sonnets by ... . ib. Note Dryden, remark on 107 , his verses to Sir Godfrey Kneller com- mended 6 Ear-tickling, common in China 38 , Chinese and European manner of lb. GENERAL INDEX. NO. Echini Marini described 78 Eggs of animalcules 60 Election in Parnassus, a dream 100 Eloquence, decay of, after the enslavement of Rome 110 Emma, adventures of 177180 English language, progress of 113 translation of the Bible praised , . 162 Note Englishman, Steele's character of 2 Note Entomology, remarks on 53 Note Eolus, Ode to the harp of 184 Epic poetry, criticism on 74 Epistle in verse 146 Epitaph on a scolding wife 64 Note Epitaphs, observations on 136 Ercilla, critical remarks on 170 Essays periodical, quotation from 113 Note Estate, Fourth, in the English constitution, hu- morous account of 55, 56 Etonian, a letter from 115 Eucharis, character of 143 Eudocia, Empress, her story 15 Execution, dreadful story of the consequences of attending one 39 of Lords Kilmarnock and Balmerino, account of ib. Note Executions, folly and cruelty of witnessing them 39 Exhortation to take care of the ears 38 Eyes, their influence 40 Fairies, a story of them 4 ^^ 8 19 Family, attachment to, good effects of 128 Farinelli, by trade, a tickler 38 Fatal Curiosity, of Lillo, analysis of 77 Note ' , excellence of its fable . , ib. Note GENERAL INDEX. NO. Female Mentor, quotation from, descriptive of the monastery of St. Augustin's on Mount St. Bernard 140 Not* Fenelon, critical remarks on 158 Fickleness, mischiefs of, illustrated in the history ofa Country Curate 159161 Fidelio, his tale 17 Filial piety, observations on 183 Fire, a great help to contemplation 31 , has more influence than the sun over north- ern poets ib. , the strange things old women can read in it ib. , the life of conversation ib. Fishing and shooting, observations on 137 Flechier, critical remarks on 158 Florella, story of , 4- Florio, his history 29 Fly, like a hornet, hatched in the nest of the hum- ble bee 65 Forgiveness recommended 69 Four Slaves of Cythera, quotation from 62 Note Fourth estate in the English constitution, remarks on 55, 56 Frederic, story of 114 French literature, observations on 158 Fresnoy, M. du, passage from Mason's transla- tion of his poem on P*ainting 5 Note Friar and his dog, a tale 138 140 Frozen vegetables, reptiles in 94 Future state, vision of ^5 Gascoigne, a witty boast of one 44 Genius, modern, remarks on 95 , female, abundant in the present period ib. Note , poetic, encouraged ib. Note , portrait of one 101 , complaints of its paucity ill founded .... 110 GENERAL INDEX. NO. Gentleman, Country, mischief accruing to his family, from a winter spent in town l^l, 142 Gibbon, his account of the Empress Eudocia .. 15 Note , critical remarks on 157 Glover, his Leonidas praised 36 , his Ruins of Rome commended 42 Goldoni, critical remarks on , 166 Good humour, one of the first requisites in so- ciety 102 Graces, sacrifice to, a dream 96 Grasshopper, poem on 84 Gratitude, observations on 143 Gray, his Ode to Spring quoted 16 Note Great and wonderful men, instances of 101 Gregory, Dr., critical remarks on 157 Grose, epitaph by, on a scolding wife 64 Grotesque painting and humorous poetry com- pared 5 Guarini, critical remarks on 166 Guicciardini, critical remarhs on ib. Happiness, in what it consists 137 Haunted house, anecdote of one 154 HawkiHS, sir John, his strange criticism on the style of Addison 115 Note Hayley's character of Herodotus 150 Note Hermit, story of one '. . 43 Herodotus, character of, by Dionysius 150 Note , observations on his history 150 Highwayman, story of one 103 Note Historical painters and epic poets compared .... 5 History, and criticism, rapid progress of, during the last half century 100 History of Agrestis 128, 129 History, remarks on 155. 157 Homer, examples of locality from 107 Honour, true, the basis of religion 51 GENERAL INDEX. VO. Horror, ode to 79 Hours of Leisure, story from 103 Note Hume, critical remarks on 155 Humour, good, one of the first requisites in society 102 Humphrey, Duke, letter from 132 Husbandry esteemed among the Romans 12 Hymn 106 Hypanis river, insects of it ^ . . . 16 Imagination, on the force of 46 Improvement and decline of nations, various stages of 171173 Incidents, occurrence of apparently supernatural 46 Note Ingratitude, observations on 143 Inhabitants of the exterior of an oyster-shell , . 89, 90 Innkeeper, story of 76, 77 Inscriptions from the Greek 185 , Lyttelton ib. Shenstone ib. Inscriptive writing, nature of ib. Insects, philosophical survey of some in the bason of Kensington gardens 5S , transmigration of i ib. Note Inspector, the papers on natural history the best portion of it ib. Note Irenarchus, his story 17 Italian literature, remarks on 166 Jeffery Rudel, story of 47 , his narrative founded on fact .... 47 Note Johnson, Dr., on the character of 123 ~, cliaracter of, by Cumberland .... ib. Note , prejudices witli regard to the cha- racter of 155 Note Jones, Sir William, observations on the character Of 165 GENERAL INDEX. NO. Jones, Sir William, poem on the death of 165 Note Journal of Alexander Tasteful 93 ' William Tasteless ib. Justice, on the partial administration of 10 Kensington Gardens, insects in the bason of ... . 53 Kicking, a dissertation on 44 Knave of Hearts, critique on the Heroic poem of Ill, 112 Knox, Dr. Vicesimus, on the pleasures and conso- lation to be derived from letters, quoted .... 93 Note his observations on the Eng- lish translation of the Bible 158 Note La Partenza, a poem 186 Landscape painters compared with writers of pas- toral 5 Language, progress of the English 113 , causes which contribute to the im- provement of ib. I^ast Age, characters of 154 Laws of God and man, the obedience due to them 81 Learned men, a series of, produced by Greece 110 Learning, on the present state of 105 Leeson, Frank, story of 103 Leonidas, poem so called, observations on 36 , criticism on ib. Note Letter on the insects of the Hypanis 16 on a future state 25 from Aristotle 27 to the Rt. Houc William Beckford 104 from an Etonian 115 Duke Humphrey 132 on the mischief arising to a country gentle- man's family from a winter spent in town 141, 142 Liberty, necessary to the display of genius 110 Life, an allusion to the shortness of it , , 16 VOL. I. 2 F GENERAL INDEX. ND. Lillo, his Fatal Curiosity, its fable praised 77 Note Lilly, the astrologer, a notorious impostor 3 Literary and biographical anecdotes of Collins . . 187 Literature of the dark ages, detail of 110 Note , English, remarks on 155, 157 , French, remarks on 158 , Italian, remarks on 166 , Spanish, remarks on 170 Local allusion, in poetry, remark on 107 Note Lover, Despairing, a poem 26 Lute, the, a poem on 122 Luxury, dream of 41 Lycidas, of Milton, remarks on 174- Lyttelton, inscription from 185 Machiavel, critical remarks on 166 Magiscatzin in search of happiness, -a tale . , 86 88 Mahali, a poem 156 Note IMankind considered as one family 94 more distressed than animals ib. Manners and customs, British, described 127 iVIariana, critical remarks on 170 Marmion, Scott's, quotation from 23 Note Marriage, the happiness and unhappiness of it considered 24 ^Lirtilmasge Daye, a poem 152 Mason, William, his translation of Fresnoy's poem De Arte (jraphica commended 5 Note Massillon, critical remarks on 158 Maxim very generally received, falsehood of ... . 110 Melai, a Constantinopolitan tale 147, 148 Men, great and wonderful, of small size 101 Myrit, weighed 21 Metastasio, critical remarks on 166 's La Partenza, a poem 186 Mexio, critical remarks on 170 Microscopic world, observations on 73 Note GENERAL INDEX. NO. Milton's II PenseroRO, observations on 98 indebted to Burton on Melancholy in his Pengeroso ib. Note 's Comus praised 174- and Note 's Penseroso and Allegro criticised ...... 174 Mischiefs of fickleness illustrated 159 161 Mob, why called the fourth estate 55, 56 Moderns excel the ancients in ridicule and hu- mour 100 Modest man, distresses of 135 Monastery of St. Augustin's, history of 140 Note Monboddo, Lord, his capacious creed 130 Note articles of belief drawn up in the Monthly Review ib. Note Monthly Review, state of Lord Monboddo'* creed by ib. Note Monthly Reviewer, his observations on the criti- cism of Sir John Hawkins on the style of Ad- dison 115 Note Mopsy, a fairy-tale 19 More's, Dr., reflections on the story of a Her- mit 43 Note Morning, the various descriptions of it by poets 7 , additional descriptions of 7 Note Morning-piece, a poem 51 Motteux's translation of Don Quixote praised . . 170 Note Muley Hassein, an Arabian tale 82 Muses, seat of, a rhapsodic vision 66 Music, on the powers of 168 Nations, various stages of, in improvement and de- cline 171173 Native country, folly of being discontented with 175 Natural history the most valuable part of the Inspector 53 Note Nature, its wants easily supplied 28 of inscriptive writing . . . . , , . , , 185 GENERAL INDEX. KO. Neglect of modern artists, observations on 91 Note Newspapers, on the advantages to society arising from the multiplication of 125, 126 Newton, Sir Isaac, inferior to Partridge, with the ignorant 3 Night piece, a poem 67 Nothing, a ballad on it 26 Oak, speech of an old one to an extravagant young heir, as he was going to be cut down 50 Observations on a scene from the Robbers of Schiller 182 Note critical, on Drummond of Haw- thornden 151 Note on the English translation of the Bi- ble I5ii Note on Scottish Songs 176 on the character of Timon of Athens 141? on the genius of Schiller 145 Ode 95 to Horror 79 criticism on ib. Note to the Harp of /Eolus 184 Old maid, her wish, a poem 26 Omai, his description of British manners and cus- toms 127 Optics, different sorts of them 40 , licenser proposed for them ib. Osreidan, of Damascus, an Arabian tale 186 Oyster shell, inhabitants of its exterior 89, 90 Painters borrow their designs from the poets . . 6 agree with the poets in representing vir- tues as goddesses, and vices as furies ib. Painting and poetry, parallel between them .... 5, 6 ' -, coalition between 167 Parable against persecution 122 GENERAL INDEX. NO. Parnassus, election in, a dream 100 view of, a dream 92 Pastoral poetry, critical strictures on 149 Penseroso and Allegro, of Milton, remarks on . . n^ Periodical Essays, quotation from, on the utility of an academy for the cultivation of the English language 113 Note Persecution, parole against 122 Peter, a German tale 1 69 Petition of the Sharks 156 Picture of the death of Cardinal Beaufort, stric- tures on 167 Pictures improved by time 6 Piety, filial, remarks on 183 Pleasure, intellectual, observations on 48, 49 i~ and Pain, an allegory . . . ., 45 Poem addressed to a lute 122 . on the Knave of Hearts, critique on . , 111, 112 Poetry recommended to the patronage of the fair sex 95 defined an universal language 107 . , an Epistle 146 , Martihnasse Daye 152 , African Boy 156 , to Sylvia ^ 167 , Allen Brooke of Windermere 175 , Ode to the Harp of iEolus 184 , La Partenza 186 , on the death of Sir William Jones .... 165 Note , Mahali 156 Note , Sonnet by Druramond 151 Note , Sonnet by ditto 166 Note , pastoral, strictures on 149 Pope, his descriptions of Ho.ncr and Virgil quoted 22 Note , example oi" locality from 107 Porteus, bishop, his reprobation of the custom of travelling on the sabbath day , . , , 81 Note genehal index. NO. Praise to God, the importance and the pleasure of that duty 67 Prejudices against Johnson 155 Note Proclamation for the encouragement of piety and virtue, observations on 131 Providence watches continually over all his crea- tures 28 , consideration of it should make us always easy . * lb. ^, its dispensations vindicated 28, 43 , on the dispensations of , . 108, 109 Psychostaticks, a view of them 18, 21, 22 Pulcheria, her prudence 15 Pursuit, the, happiness consists in 187 Quixote, Don, Motteux's translation of, praised 170 Note Quotation from the Sabine Farm 101 Note Hours of Leisure 103 Note . the Speculator 1 34 Note the Female Mentor 140 Note Periodical Essays 113 Note " Hawkins's Life of Johnson .... 115 Note the Monthly Review ib. Note - the Monthly Review " 130 Note Cowper 116 Note Cumberland 123 Note Ramble, rural, its pleasures 61 Raphael, his piece of Constantine and Maxentius resembles the battles in Virgil 5 -, a conjecture on the Jupiter in his Cupid and Psyche 6 Raynal, critical reniarkB on 158 Reading, advantages of 93 Religion, the basis of true honour 51 Reptiles in frozen vegetables 94 Resignation to Providence, how needful 28 GENERAL INDEX. NO. Revenge defined 69 Reynolds, Sir Joshua, strictures on a picture of his 167 and Note Robbers of Schiller, scene from 182 Note , observations on 181, 182 Robertson, critical remarks on 155 Robinson, Dr. Nicholas, marvellous cases by . . 11 Romans, their excessive civility 9 , how they employed their time 1 2, 1 3 Romilly, Sir Samuel, on the criminal law of England 10 Note Rousseau, critical remarks on 158 , strictures on his Eloise ib. Note Ruins of Rome, a poem, observations on 42 Rural maid of Lord Roscommon 61 Sabbath, its institution, and the design of it ... . 81 Sabine Farm, a poem so called, beautiful quota- tion from 101 Note Sacrifice to the graces, a dream , . 96 Satirical writers, observations on IS-i Sayings relating to the ears explained 38 Schiller, observations on his Robbers 181, 182 * the genius of 145 Scolding, remarks on 64 Scotland, on the state of, with regard to letters 150 Scott, his Marmion quoted 23 Note Scottish songs, observations on 176 Sea-eggs, described 78 Segued and AU, story of 108, 109 Selkirk, Alexander, an account of his living alone above four years in a desolate island 1 , his adventures the origin of De Foe's Robinson Crusoe ib. Note Shakspeare, critical remarks on 162 's death of Cardinal Beaufort, re- marks on 167 GENERAL INDEX. Shakspeare's Timon, observations on 144> Sharks, petition of 156 Shee, Mr., on the neglect of modern artists quoted 91 Note Shenstone, inscriptions from 185 Shipwreck, narrative of one 30 Shooting, observations on 137 Sketch of some worn-out characters of the last age 154 Sleep, a sort of non-existence 67 Smart, the poet, criticism on 67 Note Society, advantages arising to from the multipli- cation of newspapers 125, 126 Socrates, his opinion on death 70 Songs, Scottish, observations on 176 Sonnet, by Drummond of Hawthornden 151 Note , ditto 166 Note Spanish literature, remarks on 170 Spectacles, on the use and abuse of them 40 Spectator, an encomium on the author so called 44 Speculator, quotation from, on satirical writers . . 134 Note- Stages, various, in the improvement and decline of nations , 171 173 Stature, inconveniences of being remarkably low of 101 Sterne, critical remarks on 162 Stone city, dream about it 37 Storms and Shipwrecks, observations on 30 Story of Abah Rabieh 62 Zulima 71, 72 the Innkeeper 76, 77 Muley Hassein 82 Magiscatzin 86 88 a Highwayman 103 Note Frank Leeson 103 Frederic 114 - Segued and Ali 108, 109 .- the Vicar 119121 ENERAL INDEX. Story of the Friar and his dog 138 140 Agrestia ,.,.. 128, 129 Stuart, Gilbert, critical remarks on 157 Style compared to architecture 85 , on purity of 105 Sulivan*s view of nature, quotations from .... 53, 73 Note Sunday schools, vindication of 133 Superstition, its effects 3 Superstitions, popular, delightful in poetry .... 3 Note Surnames, whence 12 Sylvia, a poem to 167 Tale, a winter-evening one 29 Tales, Fairy 4, 8, 19 Tales 1 5, 17, 29 33, 34, 43 46, 47 , Melai, a Constantinopolitan tale .... 147, 148 , Dean of Badajos, an Arabian tale 15S , Country Curate 159161 , Wilson and Mary 164 . , Peter, a German tale 169 , Adventures of Emma 177 180 , the Will, an Arabian tale 184 , Osreidan, of Damascus, an Arabian tale . . 186 , the Haunted House 154 Tasso*s Gierusalemme Liberata defended 166 Note and Collins compared 187 Note - , critical remarks on 166 Temperance celebrated 67 .. of diet, observations on 122 Theodosius, his history 15 Timon of Athens, observations on the character of 144 Town, a winter spent in, remarks on 141, 142 Tragedy, criticism on 79 -, on mixed and consistent characters in 124 Translation, English, of the Bible, praised 162 Note VOL. I. 2 G GENERAL INDEX. NO. Transmutation, ludicrous observations on 16S Trunk-maker, letter from 32 Turner, Dr. Daniel, curious case by 11 Tythe-bill, five arguments for passing it 20 Ugly, how a woman may know she is so 35 Unity of design, in poetry, observations on .... 107 Vaccination, absurd story of the consequences of 11 Note Vaccine Phantasmagoria, poem so called, quota- tion from ib. Note Vault in King Henry's chapel, Westminster Ab- bey, story of a gentleman who entered it at midnight ... 4^ Note Vicar's tale 119121 Vice, proclamation for preventing and punishing 131 Vindication of Sunday schools 133 Vinegar, Mrs. Joan, a proficient in scolding .... 64 Virgil, his treatment of the character of Amata . . 99 Virtu, on the irrational pursuits of 152 Virtue sometimes the parent of the greatest crimes 103 Vision, on death 59 , rhapsodic 66 Visions and allegories 18, 21, 25, 45 Visiting, observations on 1 17, 1 18 Voltaire, critical remarks on 158 Waking from sleep compared to a new life .... 67 Weighing, a noble allusion to trying the preten- sions of men 18, 21, 22 Westminster Abbey, reflections on 23 , vault in iG Note . , tombs of, Addison's reflec- tions on 23 Note Will, the, an Arabian tale 184 Wilson and Mary, a tale 164 Winter spent in town, mischief arising from 141, 142 eENERAL INDEX. Ne. Winter-evening's fire-side, description of, by Cowper 31 Note Wit and beauty, an allegory 52 Witchcraft exposed 3 Words, abuse of, observations on 130 Worn-out characters of the last age, observations on 154! Writers, satyrical, observations on 134. Zulima and the talisman, an oriental tale .... 71, 72 iND or GENERAL INDEX. This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. JAN 2 1953 JUl27f4 ..^' vr\ ~ < .' .^T.^ ^ ,f^ * *:>'" *> -O' Form Ly-5Ui/ill,'00^2Jo-)-i4.l ji ""'""iiiillllllMHIIIKII \