The Care of doing nothing unbecoming has accompanied the greatest Minds

to their last Moments. They avoided even an indecent Posture in the very

Article of Death. Thus Cæsar gathered his Robe about him, that he might

not fall in a manner unbecoming of himself: and the greatest Concern

that appeared in the Behaviour of Lucretia, when she stabbed her self,

was, that her Body should lie in an Attitude worthy the Mind which had

inhabited it.

Ne non procumbat honeste

Extrema hæc etiam cura, cadentis erat. [3]

Twas her last Thought, How decently to fall.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

I am a young Woman without a Fortune; but of a very high Mind: That

is, Good Sir, I am to the last degree Proud and Vain. I am ever

railing at the Rich, for doing Things, which, upon Search into my

Heart, I find I am only angry because I cannot do the same my self. I

wear the hooped Petticoat, and am all in Callicoes when the finest are

in Silks. It is a dreadful thing to be poor and proud; therefore if

you please, a Lecture on that Subject for the Satisfaction of

Your Uneasy Humble Servant,

JEZEBEL.

Z.

[Footnote 1: Bk. vi. ep. 32.]

[Footnote 2: Par. L., Bk. iv. 11. 844-9.]

[Footnote 3: Ovid. Fast., iii. 833.]

* * * * *

No. 293.] Tuesday, February 5, 1712. [Addison.

[Greek: Pasin gàr euphronousi summachei túchae.]

The famous Gratian [1] in his little Book wherein he lays down Maxims

for a Man's advancing himself at Court, advises his Reader to associate

himself with the Fortunate, and to shun the Company of the Unfortunate;

which, notwithstanding the Baseness of the Precept to an honest Mind,

may have something useful in it for those who push their Interest in the

World. It is certain a great Part of what we call good or ill Fortune,

rises out of right or wrong Measures, and Schemes of Life. When I hear a

Man complain of his being unfortunate in all his Undertakings, I

shrewdly suspect him for a very weak Man in his Affairs. In Conformity

with this way of thinking, Cardinal Richelieu used to say, that

Unfortunate and Imprudent were but two Words for the same Thing. As the

Cardinal himself had a great Share both of Prudence and Good-Fortune,

his famous Antagonist, the Count d'Olivarez, was disgraced at the Court

of Madrid, because it was alledged against him that he had never any

Success in his Undertakings. This, says an Eminent Author, was

indirectly accusing him of Imprudence.

Cicero recommended Pompey to the Romans for their General upon three

Accounts, as he was a Man of Courage, Conduct, and Good-Fortune. It was

perhaps, for the Reason above-mentioned, namely, that a Series of

Good-Fortune supposes a prudent Management in the Person whom it

befalls, that not only Sylla the Dictator, but several of the Roman

Emperors, as is still to be seen upon their Medals, among their other

Titles, gave themselves that of Felix or Fortunate. The Heathens,

indeed, seem to have valued a Man more for his Good-Fortune than for any

other Quality, which I think is very natural for those who have not a

strong Belief of another World. For how can I conceive a Man crowned

with many distinguishing Blessings, that has not some extraordinary Fund

of Merit and Perfection in him, which lies open to the Supreme Eye, tho

perhaps it is not discovered by my Observation? What is the Reason

Homers and Virgil's Heroes do not form a Resolution, or strike a Blow,

without the Conduct and Direction of some Deity? Doubtless, because the

Poets esteemed it the greatest Honour to be favoured by the Gods, and

thought the best Way of praising a Man was to recount those Favours

which naturally implied an extraordinary Merit in the Person on whom

they descended.

Those who believe a future State of Rewards and Punishments act very

absurdly, if they form their Opinions of a Man's Merit from his

Successes. But certainly, if I thought the whole Circle of our Being was

concluded between our Births and Deaths, I should think a Man's

Good-Fortune the Measure and Standard of his real Merit, since

Providence would have no Opportunity of rewarding his Virtue and

Perfections, but in the present Life. A Virtuous Unbeliever, who lies

under the Pressure of Misfortunes, has reason to cry out, as they say

Brutus did a little before his Death, O Virtue, I have worshipped thee

as a Substantial Good, but I find thou art an empty Name.

But to return to our first Point. Tho Prudence does undoubtedly in a

great measure produce our good or ill Fortune in the World, it is

certain there are many unforeseen Accidents and Occurrences, which very

often pervert the finest Schemes that can be laid by Human Wisdom. The

Race is not always to the Swift, nor the Battle to the Strong. Nothing

less than infinite Wisdom can have an absolute Command over Fortune; the

highest Degree of it which Man can possess, is by no means equal to

fortuitous Events, and to such Contingencies as may rise in the

Prosecution of our Affairs. Nay, it very often happens, that Prudence,

which has always in it a great Mixture of Caution, hinders a Man from

being so fortunate as he might possibly have been without it. A Person

who only aims at what is likely to succeed, and follows closely the

Dictates of Human Prudence, never meets with those great and unforeseen

Successes, which are often the effect of a Sanguine Temper, or a more

happy Rashness; and this perhaps may be the Reason, that according to

the common Observation, Fortune, like other Females, delights rather in

favouring the young than the old.

Upon the whole, since Man is so short-sighted a Creature, and the

Accidents which may happen to him so various, I cannot but be of Dr.

Tillotson's Opinion in another Case, that were there any Doubt of a

Providence, yet it certainly would be very desirable there should be

such a Being of infinite Wisdom and Goodness, on whose Direction we

might rely in the Conduct of Human Life.

It is a great Presumption to ascribe our Successes to our own

Management, and not to esteem our selves upon any Blessing, rather as it

is the Bounty of Heaven, than the Acquisition of our own Prudence. I am

very well pleased with a Medal which was struck by Queen Elizabeth, a

little after the Defeat of the Invincible Armada, to perpetuate the

Memory of that extraordinary Event. It is well known how the King of

Spain, and others, who were the Enemies of that great Princess, to

derogate from her Glory, ascribed the Ruin of their Fleet rather to the

Violence of Storms and Tempests, than to the Bravery of the English.

Queen Elizabeth, instead of looking upon this as a Diminution of her

Honour, valued herself upon such a signal Favour of Providence, and

accordingly in [2] the Reverse of the Medal above mentioned, [has

represented] a Fleet beaten by a Tempest, and falling foul upon one

another, with that Religious Inscription, Afflavit Deus et dissipantur.

He blew with his Wind, and they were scattered.

It is remarked of a famous Grecian General, whose Name I cannot at

present recollect [3], and who had been a particular Favourite of

Fortune, that upon recounting his Victories among his Friends, he added

at the End of several great Actions, And in this Fortune had no Share.

After which it is observed in History, that he never prospered in any

thing he undertook.

As Arrogance, and a Conceitedness of our own Abilities, are very

shocking and offensive to Men of Sense and Virtue, we may be sure they

are highly displeasing to that Being who delights in an humble Mind, and

by several of his Dispensations seems purposely to shew us, that our own

Schemes or Prudence have no Share in our Advancement[s].

Since on this Subject I have already admitted several Quotations which

have occurred to my Memory upon writing this Paper, I will conclude it

with a little Persian Fable. A Drop of Water fell out of a Cloud into

the Sea, and finding it self lost in such an Immensity of fluid Matter,

broke out into the following Reflection: Alas! What an [insignificant

[4]] Creature am I in this prodigious Ocean of Waters; my Existence is

of no [Concern [5]] to the Universe, I am reduced to a Kind of

Nothing, and am less then the least of the Works of God. It so

happened, that an Oyster, which lay in the Neighbourhood of this Drop,

chanced to gape and swallow it up in the midst of this [its [6]] humble

Soliloquy. The Drop, says the Fable, lay a great while hardning in the

Shell, till by Degrees it was ripen'd into a Pearl, which falling into

the Hands of a Diver, after a long Series of Adventures, is at present

that famous Pearl which is fixed on the Top of the Persian Diadem.

L.

[Footnote 1: Balthasar Gracian, a Spanish Jesuit, who died in 1658,

rector of the Jesuits College of Tarragona, wrote many books in Spanish

on Politics and Society, among others the one here referred to on the

Courtier; which was known to Addison, doubtless, through the French

translation by Amelot de la Houssaye.]

[Footnote 2: Corrected by an erratum to [you see in], but in reprint

altered by the addition of [has represented].

[Footnote 3: Timotheus the Athenian.]

[Footnote 4: Altered by an erratum to [inconsiderable] to avoid the

repetition insignificant, and insignificancy; but in the reprint the

second word was changed.]

[Footnote 5: [significancy]]

[Footnote 6: [his]]

* * * * *

No. 294. Wednesday, February 6, 1712. Steele.

Difficile est plurimum virtutem revereri qui semper secunda fortuna

sit usus.

Tull. ad Herennium.

Insolence is the Crime of all others which every Man is most apt to rail

at; and yet is there one Respect in which almost all Men living are

guilty of it, and that is in the Case of laying a greater Value upon the

Gifts of Fortune than we ought. It is here in England come into our very

Language, as a Propriety of Distinction, to say, when we would speak of

Persons to their Advantage, they are People of Condition. There is no

doubt but the proper Use of Riches implies that a Man should exert all

the good Qualities imaginable; and if we mean by a Man of Condition or

Quality, one who, according to the Wealth he is Master of, shews himself

just, beneficent, and charitable, that Term ought very deservedly to be

had in the highest Veneration; but when Wealth is used only as it is the

Support of Pomp and Luxury, to be rich is very far from being a

Recommendation to Honour and Respect. It is indeed the greatest

Insolence imaginable, in a Creature who would feel the Extreams of

Thirst and Hunger, if he did not prevent his Appetites before they call

upon him, to be so forgetful of the common Necessity of Human Nature, as

never to cast an Eye upon the Poor and Needy. The Fellow who escaped

from a Ship which struck upon a Rock in the West, and join'd with the

Country People to destroy his Brother Sailors and make her a Wreck, was

thought a most execrable Creature; but does not every Man who enjoys the

Possession of what he naturally wants, and is unmindful of the

unsupplied Distress of other Men, betray the same Temper of Mind? When a

Man looks about him, and with regard to Riches and Poverty beholds some

drawn in Pomp and Equipage, and they and their very Servants with an Air

of Scorn and Triumph overlooking the Multitude that pass by them; and,

in the same Street, a Creature of the same Make crying out in the Name

of all that is Good and Sacred to behold his Misery, and give him some

Supply against Hunger and Nakedness, who would believe these two Beings

were of the same Species? But so it is, that the Consideration of

Fortune has taken up all our Minds, and, as I have often complained,

Poverty and Riches stand in our Imaginations in the Places of Guilt and

Innocence. But in all Seasons there will be some Instances of Persons

who have Souls too large to be taken with popular Prejudices, and while

the rest of Mankind are contending for Superiority in Power and Wealth,

have their Thoughts bent upon the Necessities of those below them. The

Charity-Schools which have been erected of late Years, are the greatest

Instances of publick Spirit the Age has produced: But indeed when we

consider how long this Sort of Beneficence has been on Foot, it is

rather from the good Management of those Institutions, than from the

Number or Value of the Benefactions to them, that they make so great a

Figure. One would think it impossible, that in the Space of fourteen

Years there should not have been five thousand Pounds bestowed in Gifts

this Way, nor sixteen hundred Children, including Males and Females, put

out to Methods of Industry. It is not allowed me to speak of Luxury and

Folly with the severe Spirit they deserve; I shall only therefore say, I

shall very readily compound with any Lady in a Hoop-Petticoat, if she

gives the Price of one half Yard of the Silk towards Cloathing, Feeding

and Instructing an Innocent helpless Creature of her own Sex in one of

these Schools. The Consciousness of such an Action will give her

Features a nobler Life on this illustrious Day, [1] than all the Jewels

that can hang in her Hair, or can be clustered at her Bosom. It would be

uncourtly to speak in harsher Words to the Fair, but to Men one may take

a little more Freedom. It is monstrous how a Man can live with so little

Reflection, as to fancy he is not in a Condition very unjust and

disproportioned to the rest of Mankind, while he enjoys Wealth, and

exerts no Benevolence or Bounty to others. As for this particular

Occasion of these Schools, there cannot any offer more worthy a generous

Mind. Would you do an handsome thing without Return? do it for an Infant

that is not sensible of the Obligation: Would you do it for publick

Good? do it for one who will be an honest Artificer: Would you do it for

the Sake of Heaven? give it to one who shall be instructed in the

Worship of him for whose Sake you gave it. It is methinks a most

laudable Institution this, if it were of no other Expectation than that

of producing a Race of good and useful Servants, who will have more than

a liberal, a religious Education. What would not a Man do, in common

Prudence, to lay out in Purchase of one about him, who would add to all

his Orders he gave the Weight of the Commandments to inforce an

Obedience to them? for one who would consider his Master as his Father,

his Friend, and Benefactor, upon the easy Terms, and in Expectation of

no other Return but moderate Wages and gentle Usage? It is the common

Vice of Children to run too much among the Servants; from such as are

educated in these Places they would see nothing but Lowliness in the

Servant, which would not be disingenuous in the Child. All the ill

Offices and defamatory Whispers which take their Birth from Domesticks,

would be prevented, if this Charity could be made universal; and a good

Man might have a Knowledge of the whole Life of the Persons he designs

to take into his House for his own Service, or that of his Family or

Children, long before they were admitted. This would create endearing

Dependencies: and the Obligation would have a paternal Air in the

Master, who would be relieved from much Care and Anxiety from the

Gratitude and Diligence of an humble Friend attending him as his

Servant. I fall into this Discourse from a Letter sent to me, to give me

Notice that Fifty Boys would be Cloathed, and take their Seats (at the

Charge of some generous Benefactors) in St. Brides Church on Sunday

next. I wish I could promise to my self any thing which my Correspondent

seems to expect from a Publication of it in this Paper; for there can be

nothing added to what so many excellent and learned Men have said on

this Occasion: But that there may be something here which would move a

generous Mind, like that of him who writ to me, I shall transcribe an

handsome Paragraph of Dr. Snape's Sermon on these Charities, which my

Correspondent enclosed with this Letter.

The wise Providence has amply compensated the Disadvantages of the

Poor and Indigent, in wanting many of the Conveniencies of this Life,

by a more abundant Provision for their Happiness in the next. Had they

been higher born, or more richly endowed, they would have wanted this

Manner of Education, of which those only enjoy the Benefit, who are

low enough to submit to it; where they have such Advantages without

Money, and without Price, as the Rich cannot purchase with it. The

Learning which is given, is generally more edifying to them, than that

which is sold to others: Thus do they become more exalted in Goodness,

by being depressed in Fortune, and their Poverty is, in Reality, their

Preferment. [2]

T.

[Footnote 1: Queen Anne's birthday. She was born Feb. 6, 1665, and died

Aug. 1, 1714, aged 49.]

[Footnote 2: From January 24 there occasionally appears the

advertisement.

Just Published.

A very neat Pocket Edition of the SPECTATOR, in two volumes 12mo.

Printed for S. Buckley, at the Dolphin, in Little Britain, and J.

Tonson, at Shakespear's Head, over-against Catherine-Street in the

Strand.]

* * * * *

No. 295. Thursday, February 7, 1712. Addison.

Prodiga non sentit pereuntem fæmina censum:

At velut exhaustâ redivivus pullulet arcâ

Nummus, et è pleno semper tollatur acervo,

Non unquam reputat quanti sibi gandia constent.

Juv.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

I am turned of my great Climacteric, and am naturally a Man of a meek

Temper. About a dozen Years ago I was married, for my Sins, to a young

Woman of a good Family, and of an high Spirit; but could not bring her

to close with me, before I had entered into a Treaty with her longer

than that of the Grand Alliance. Among other Articles, it was therein

stipulated, that she should have £400 a Year for Pin-money, which I

obliged my self to pay Quarterly into the hands of one who had acted

as her Plenipotentiary in that Affair. I have ever since religiously

observed my part in this solemn Agreement. Now, Sir, so it is, that

the Lady has had several Children since I married her; to which, if I

should credit our malicious Neighbours, her Pin-money has not a little

contributed. The Education of these my Children, who, contrary to my

Expectation, are born to me every Year, streightens me so much, that I

have begged their Mother to free me from the Obligation of the

above-mentioned Pin-money, that it may go towards making a Provision

for her Family. This Proposal makes her noble Blood swell in her

Veins, insomuch that finding me a little tardy in her last Quarters

Payment, she threatens me every Day to arrest me; and proceeds so far

as to tell me, that if I do not do her Justice, I shall die in a Jayl.

To this she adds, when her Passion will let her argue calmly, that she

has several Play-Debts on her Hand, which must be discharged very

suddenly, and that she cannot lose her Money as becomes a Woman of her

Fashion, if she makes me any Abatements in this Article. I hope, Sir,

you will take an Occasion from hence to give your Opinion upon a

Subject which you have not yet touched, and inform us if there are any

Precedents for this Usage among our Ancestors; or whether you find any

mention of Pin-money in Grotius, Puffendorf, or any other of the

Civilians.

I am ever

the humblest of your Admirers,

Josiah Fribble, Esq.

As there is no Man living who is a more professed Advocate for the Fair

Sex than my self, so there is none that would be more unwilling to

invade any of their ancient Rights and Privileges; but as the Doctrine

of Pin-money is of a very late Date, unknown to our Great Grandmothers,

and not yet received by many of our Modern Ladies, I think it is for the

Interest of both Sexes to keep it from spreading.

Mr. Fribble may not, perhaps, be much mistaken where he intimates, that

the supplying a Man's Wife with Pin-money, is furnishing her with Arms

against himself, and in a manner becoming accessary to his own

Dishonour. We may indeed, generally observe, that in proportion as a

Woman is more or less Beautiful, and her Husband advanced in Years, she

stands in need of a greater or less number of Pins, and upon a Treaty of

Marriage, rises or falls in her Demands accordingly. It must likewise be

owned, that high Quality in a Mistress does very much inflame this

Article in the Marriage Reckoning.

But where the Age and Circumstances of both Parties are pretty much upon

a level, I cannot but think the insisting upon Pin-money is very

extraordinary; and yet we find several Matches broken off upon this very

Head. What would a Foreigner, or one who is a Stranger to this Practice,

think of a Lover that forsakes his Mistress, because he is not willing

to keep her in Pins; but what would he think of the Mistress, should he

be informed that she asks five or six hundred Pounds a Year for this

use? Should a Man unacquainted with our Customs be told the Sums which

are allowed in Great Britain, under the Title of Pin-money, what a

prodigious Consumption of Pins would he think there was in this Island?

A Pin a Day, says our frugal Proverb, is a Groat a Year, so that

according to this Calculation, my Friend Fribbles Wife must every Year

make use of Eight Millions six hundred and forty thousand new Pins.

I am not ignorant that our British Ladies allege they comprehend under

this general Term several other Conveniencies of Life; I could therefore

wish, for the Honour of my Countrywomen, that they had rather called it

Needle-Money, which might have implied something of Good-housewifry, and

not have given the malicious World occasion to think, that Dress and

Trifles have always the uppermost Place in a Woman's Thoughts.

I know several of my fair Reasoners urge, in defence of this Practice,

that it is but a necessary Provision they make for themselves, in case

their Husband proves a Churl or a Miser; so that they consider this

Allowance as a kind of Alimony, which they may lay their Claim to,

without actually separating from their Husbands. But with Submission, I

think a Woman who will give up her self to a Man in Marriage, where

there is the least Room for such an Apprehension, and trust her Person

to one whom she will not rely on for the common Necessaries of Life, may

very properly be accused (in the Phrase of an homely Proverb) of being

Penny wise and Pound foolish.

It is observed of over-cautious Generals, that they never engage in a

Battel without securing a Retreat, in case the Event should not answer

their Expectations; on the other hand, the greatest Conquerors have

burnt their Ships, or broke down the Bridges behind them, as being

determined either to succeed or die in the Engagement. In the same

manner I should very much suspect a Woman who takes such Precautions for

her Retreat, and contrives Methods how she may live happily, without the

Affection of one to whom she joins herself for Life. Separate Purses

between Man and Wife are, in my Opinion, as unnatural as separate Beds.

A Marriage cannot be happy, where the Pleasures, Inclinations, and

Interests of both Parties are not the same. There is no greater

Incitement to Love in the Mind of Man, than the Sense of a Persons

depending upon him for her Ease and Happiness; as a Woman uses all her

Endeavours to please the Person whom she looks upon as her Honour, her

Comfort, and her Support.

For this Reason I am not very much surprized at the Behaviour of a rough

Country Squire, who, being not a little shocked at the Proceeding of a

young Widow that would not recede from her Demands of Pin-money, was so

enraged at her mercenary Temper, that he told her in great Wrath, As

much as she thought him her Slave, he would shew all the World he did

not care a Pin for her. Upon which he flew out of the Room, and never

saw her more.

Socrates, in Plato's Altibiades, says, he was informed by one, who had

travelled through Persia, that as he passed over a great Tract of Lands,

and enquired what the Name of the Place was, they told him it was the

Queens Girdle; to which he adds, that another wide Field which lay by

it, was called the Queens Veil; and that in the same Manner there was a

large Portion of Ground set aside for every part of Her Majesty's

Dress. These Lands might not be improperly called the Queen of Persia's

Pin-money.

I remember my Friend Sir ROGER, who I dare say never read this Passage

in Plato, told me some time since, that upon his courting the Perverse

Widow (of whom I have given an Account in former Papers) he had disposed

of an hundred Acres in a Diamond-Ring, which he would have presented her

with, had she thought fit to accept it; and that upon her Wedding-Day

she should have carried on her Head fifty of the tallest Oaks upon his

Estate. He further informed me that he would have given her a Cole-pit

to keep her in clean Linnen, that he would have allowed her the Profits

of a Windmill for her Fans, and have presented her once in three Years

with the Sheering of his Sheep [for her [1]] Under-Petticoats. To which

the Knight always adds, that though he did not care for fine Cloaths

himself, there should not have been a Woman in the Country better

dressed than my Lady Coverley. Sir ROGER perhaps, may in this, as well

as in many other of his Devices, appear something odd and singular, but

if the Humour of Pin-money prevails, I think it would be very proper for

every Gentleman of an Estate to mark out so many Acres of it under the

Title of The Pins.

L.

[Footnote 1: [to keep her in]]

* * * * *

No. 296. Friday, February 8, 1712. Steele.

Nugis addere pondus.

Hor.

Dear SPEC.

Having lately conversed much with the Fair Sex on the Subject of your

Speculations, (which since their Appearance in Publick, have been the

chief Exercise of the Female loquacious Faculty) I found the fair Ones

possess'd with a Dissatisfaction at your prefixing Greek Mottos to

the Frontispiece of your late Papers; and, as a Man of Gallantry, I

thought it a Duty incumbent on me to impart it to you, in Hopes of a

Reformation, which is only to be effected by a Restoration of the

Latin to the usual Dignity in your Papers, which of late, the Greek,

to the great Displeasure of your Female Readers, has usurp'd; for tho

the Latin has the Recommendation of being as unintelligible to them as

the Greek, yet being written of the same Character with their

Mother-Tongue, by the Assistance of a Spelling-Book its legible;

which Quality the Greek wants: And since the Introduction of Operas

into this Nation, the Ladies are so charmed with Sounds abstracted

from their Ideas, that they adore and honour the Sound of Latin as it

is old Italian. I am a Sollicitor for the Fair Sex, and therefore

think my self in that Character more likely to be prevalent in this

Request, than if I should subscribe myself by my proper Name.

J.M.

I desire you may insert this in one of your Speculations, to shew my

Zeal for removing the Dissatisfaction of the Fair Sex, and restoring

you to their Favour.

SIR,

I was some time since in Company with a young Officer, who entertained

us with the Conquest he had made over a Female Neighbour of his; when

a Gentleman who stood by, as I suppose, envying the Captains good

Fortune, asked him what Reason he had to believe the Lady admired him?

Why, says he, my Lodgings are opposite to hers, and she is continually

at her Window either at Work, Reading, taking Snuff, or putting her

self in some toying Posture on purpose to draw my Eyes that Way. The

Confession of this vain Soldier made me reflect on some of my own

Actions; for you must know, Sir, I am often at a Window which fronts

the Apartments of several Gentlemen, who I doubt not have the same

Opinion of me. I must own I love to look at them all, one for being

well dressed, a second for his fine Eye, and one particular one,

because he is the least Man I ever saw; but there is something so

easie and pleasant in the Manner of my little Man, that I observe he

is a Favourite of all his Acquaintance. I could go on to tell you of

many others that I believe think I have encouraged them from my

Window: But pray let me have your Opinion of the Use of the Window in

a beautiful Lady: and how often she may look out at the same Man,

without being supposed to have a Mind to jump out to him. Yours,

Aurelia Careless.

Twice.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

I have for some Time made Love to a Lady, who received it with all

the kind Returns I ought to expect. But without any Provocation, that

I know of, she has of late shunned me with the utmost Abhorrence,

insomuch that she went out of Church last Sunday in the midst of

Divine Service, upon my coming into the same Pew. Pray, Sir, what must

I do in this Business?

Your Servant,

Euphues.

Let her alone Ten Days.

York, Jan. 20, 1711-12.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

We have in this Town a sort of People who pretend to Wit and write

Lampoons: I have lately been the Subject of one of them. The Scribler

had not Genius enough in Verse to turn my Age, as indeed I am an old

Maid, into Raillery, for affecting a youthier Turn than is consistent

with my Time of Day; and therefore he makes the Title to his Madrigal,

The Character of Mrs. Judith Lovebane, born in the Year [1680. [1]]

What I desire of you is, That you disallow that a Coxcomb who pretends

to write Verse, should put the most malicious Thing he can say in

Prose. This I humbly conceive will disable our Country Wits, who

indeed take a great deal of Pains to say any thing in Rhyme, tho they

say it very ill.

I am, SIR,

Your Humble Servant,

Susanna Lovebane.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

We are several of us, Gentlemen and Ladies, who Board in the same

House, and after Dinner one of our Company (an agreeable Man enough

otherwise) stands up and reads your Paper to us all. We are the

civillest People in the World to one another, and therefore I am

forced to this way of desiring our Reader, when he is doing this

Office, not to stand afore the Fire. This will be a general Good to

our Family this cold Weather. He will, I know, take it to be our

common Request when he comes to these Words, Pray, Sir, sit down;

which I desire you to insert, and you will particularly oblige

Your Daily Reader,

Charity Frost.

SIR,

I am a great Lover of Dancing, but cannot perform so well as some

others; however, by my Out-of-the-Way Capers, and some original

Grimaces, I don't fail to divert the Company, particularly the Ladies,

who laugh immoderately all the Time. Some, who pretend to be my

Friends, tell me they do it in Derision, and would advise me to leave

it off, withal that I make my self ridiculous. I don't know what to do

in this Affair, but I am resolved not to give over upon any

Account, till I have the Opinion of the SPECTATOR.

Your humble Servant,

John Trott.

If Mr. Trott is not awkward out of Time, he has a Right to Dance let who

will Laugh: But if he has no Ear he will interrupt others; and I am of

Opinion he should sit still.

Given under my Hand this Fifth of February, 1711-12.

The SPECTATOR.

T.

[Footnote 1: 1750]

* * * * *

No. 297. Saturday, February 9, 1712. Addison

--velut si

Egregio inspersos reprendas corpore nævos.

Hor.

After what I have said in my last Saturdays Paper, I shall enter on the

Subject of this without further Preface, and remark the several Defects

which appear in the Fable, the Characters, the Sentiments, and the

Language of Milton's Paradise Lost; not doubting but the Reader will

pardon me, if I alledge at the same time whatever may be said for the

Extenuation of such Defects. The first Imperfection which I shall

observe in the Fable is that the Event of it is unhappy.

The Fable of every Poem is, according to Aristotle's Division, either

Simple or Implex [1]. It is called Simple when there is no change of

Fortune in it: Implex, when the Fortune of the chief Actor changes from

Bad to Good, or from Good to Bad. The Implex Fable is thought the most

perfect; I suppose, because it is more proper to stir up the Passions of

the Reader, and to surprize him with a greater Variety of Accidents.

The Implex Fable is therefore of two kinds: In the first the chief Actor

makes his Way through a long Series of Dangers and Difficulties, till he

arrives at Honour and Prosperity, as we see in the [Story of Ulysses.

[2]] In the second, the chief Actor in the Poem falls from some eminent

Pitch of Honour and Prosperity, into Misery and Disgrace. Thus we see

Adam and Eve sinking from a State of Innocence and Happiness, into the

most abject Condition of Sin and Sorrow.

The most taking Tragedies among the Ancients were built on this last

sort of Implex Fable, particularly the Tragedy of Oedipus, which

proceeds upon a Story, if we may believe Aristotle, the most proper for

Tragedy that could be invented by the Wit of Man. [3] I have taken some

Pains in a former Paper to shew, that this kind of Implex Fable, wherein

the Event is unhappy, is more apt to affect an Audience than that of the

first kind; notwithstanding many excellent Pieces among the Ancients, as

well as most of those which have been written of late Years in our own

Country, are raised upon contrary Plans. I must however own, that I

think this kind of Fable, which is the most perfect in Tragedy, is not

so proper for an Heroic Poem.

Milton seems to have been sensible of this Imperfection in his Fable,

and has therefore endeavoured to cure it by several Expedients;

particularly by the Mortification which the great Adversary of Mankind

meets with upon his Return to the Assembly of Infernal Spirits, as it is

described in [a, [4]] beautiful Passage of the Tenth Book; and likewise

by the Vision wherein Adam at the close of the Poem sees his Off-spring

triumphing over his great Enemy, and himself restored to a happier

Paradise than that from which he fell.

There is another Objection against Milton's Fable, which is indeed

almost the same with the former, tho placed in a different Light,

namely, That the Hero in the Paradise Lost is unsuccessful, and by no

means a Match for his Enemies. This gave Occasion to Mr. Dryden's

Reflection, that the Devil was in reality Milton's Hero. [5]

I think I have obviated this Objection in my first Paper. The Paradise

Lost is an Epic [or a] Narrative Poem, [and] he that looks for an Hero

in it, searches for that which Milton never intended; [but [6]] if he

will needs fix the Name of an Hero upon any Person in it, tis certainly

the Messiah who is the Hero, both in the Principal Action, and in the

[chief Episodes.] [7] Paganism could not furnish out a real Action for a

Fable greater than that of the Iliad or Æneid, and therefore an Heathen

could not form a higher Notion of a Poem than one of that kind, which

they call an Heroic. Whether Milton's is not of a [sublimer [8]] Nature

I will not presume to determine: It is sufficient that I shew there is

in the Paradise Lost all the Greatness of Plan, Regularity of Design,

and masterly Beauties which we discover in Homer and Virgil.

I must in the next Place observe, that Milton has interwoven in the

Texture of his Fable some Particulars which do not seem to have

Probability enough for an Epic Poem, particularly in the Actions which

he ascribes to Sin and Death, and the Picture which he draws of the

Limbo of Vanity, with other Passages in the second Book. Such Allegories

rather savour of the Spirit of Spenser and Ariosto, than of Homer and

Virgil.

In the Structure of his Poem he has likewise admitted of too many

Digressions. It is finely observed by Aristotle, that the Author of an

Heroic Poem should seldom speak himself, but throw as much of his Work

as he can into the Mouths of those who are his Principal Actors. [9]

Aristotle has given no reason for this Precept; but I presume it is

because the Mind of the Reader is more awed and elevated when he hears

Æneas or Achilles speak, than when Virgil or Homer talk in their own

Persons. Besides that assuming the Character of an eminent Man is apt to

fire the Imagination, and raise the Ideas of the Author. Tully tells us

[10], mentioning his Dialogue of Old Age, in which Cato is the chief

Speaker, that upon a Review of it he was agreeably imposed upon, and

fancied that it was Cato, and not he himself, who uttered his Thoughts

on that Subject.

If the Reader would be at the Pains to see how the Story of the Iliad

and the Æneid is delivered by those Persons who act in it, he will be

surprized to find how little in either of these Poems proceeds from the

Authors. Milton has, in the general disposition of his Fable, very

finely observed this great Rule; insomuch that there is scarce a third

Part of it which comes from the Poet; the rest is spoken either by Adam

and Eve, or by some Good or Evil Spirit who is engaged either in their

Destruction or Defence.

From what has been here observed it appears, that Digressions are by no

means to be allowed of in an Epic Poem. If the Poet, even in the

ordinary course of his Narration, should speak as little as possible, he

should certainly never let his Narration sleep for the sake of any

Reflections of his own. I have often observed, with a secret Admiration,

that the longest Reflection in the Æneid is in that Passage of the

Tenth Book, where Turnus is represented as dressing himself in the

Spoils of Pallas, whom he had slain. Virgil here lets his Fable stand

still for the-sake of the following Remark. How is the Mind of Man

ignorant of Futurity, and unable to bear prosperous Fortune with

Moderation? The Time will come when Turnus shall wish that he had left

the Body of Pallas untouched, and curse the Day on which he dressed

himself in these Spoils. As the great Event of the Æneid, and the Death

of Turnus, whom Æneas slew because he saw him adorned with the Spoils of

Pallas, turns upon this Incident, Virgil went out of his way to make

this Reflection upon it, without which so small a Circumstance might

possibly have slipped out of his Readers Memory. Lucan, who was an

Injudicious Poet, lets drop his Story very frequently for the sake of

his unnecessary Digressions, or his Diverticula, as Scaliger calls them.

[11] If he gives us an Account of the Prodigies which preceded the Civil

War, he declaims upon the Occasion, and shews how much happier it would

be for Man, if he did not feel his Evil Fortune before it comes to pass;

and suffer not only by its real Weight, but by the Apprehension of it.

Milton's Complaint [for [12]] his Blindness, his Panegyrick on Marriage,

his Reflections on Adam and Eves going naked, of the Angels eating, and

several other Passages in his Poem, are liable to the same Exception,

tho I must confess there is so great a Beauty in these very

Digressions, that I would not wish them out of his Poem.

I have, in a former Paper, spoken of the Characters of Milton's Paradise

Lost, and declared my Opinion, as to the Allegorical Persons who are

introduced in it.

If we look into the Sentiments, I think they are sometimes defective

under the following Heads: First, as there are several of them too much

pointed, and some that degenerate even into Punns. Of this last kind I

am afraid is that in the First Book, where speaking of the Pigmies, he

calls them,

--The small Infantry

Warrdon by Cranes--

Another Blemish [that [13]] appears in some of his Thoughts, is his

frequent Allusion to Heathen Fables, which are not certainly of a Piece

with the Divine Subject, of which he treats. I do not find fault with

these Allusions, where the Poet himself represents them as fabulous, as

he does in some Places, but where he mentions them as Truths and Matters

of Fact. The Limits of my Paper will not give me leave to be particular

in Instances of this kind; the Reader will easily remark them in his

Perusal of the Poem.

A third fault in his Sentiments, is an unnecessary Ostentation of

Learning, which likewise occurs very frequently. It is certain that both

Homer and Virgil were Masters of all the Learning of their Times, but it

shews it self in their Works after an indirect and concealed manner.

Milton seems ambitious of letting us know, by his Excursions on

Free-Will and Predestination, and his many Glances upon History,

Astronomy, Geography, and the like, as well as by the Terms and Phrases

he sometimes makes use of, that he was acquainted with the whole Circle

of Arts and Sciences.

If, in the last place, we consider the Language of this great Poet, we

must allow what I have hinted in a former Paper, that it is often too

much laboured, and sometimes obscured by old Words, Transpositions, and

Foreign Idioms. Senecas Objection to the Style of a great Author, Riget

ejus oratio, nihil in eâ placidum nihil lene, is what many Criticks make

to Milton: As I cannot wholly refuse it, so I have already apologized

for it in another Paper; to which I may further add, that Milton's

Sentiments and Ideas were so wonderfully Sublime, that it would have

been impossible for him to have represented them in their full Strength

and Beauty, without having recourse to these Foreign Assistances. Our

Language sunk under him, and was unequal to that Greatness of Soul,

which furnished him with such glorious Conceptions.

A second Fault in his Language is, that he often affects a kind of

Jingle in his Words, as in the following Passages, and many others:

And brought into the World a World of Woe.

--Begirt th' Almighty throne

Beseeching or besieging--

This tempted our attempt--

At one slight bound high overleapt all bound.

I know there are Figures for this kind of Speech, that some of the

greatest Ancients have been guilty of it, and that Aristotle himself has

given it a place in his Rhetorick among the Beauties of that Art. [14]

But as it is in its self poor and trifling, it is I think at present

universally exploded by all the Masters of Polite Writing.

The last Fault which I shall take notice of in Milton's Style, is the

frequent use of what the Learned call Technical Words, or Terms of Art.

It is one of the great Beauties of Poetry, to make hard things

intelligible, and to deliver what is abstruse [of [15]] it self in such

easy Language as may be understood by ordinary Readers: Besides, that

the Knowledge of a Poet should rather seem born with him, or inspired,

than drawn from Books and Systems. I have often wondered how Mr. Dryden

could translate a Passage out of Virgil after the following manner.

Tack to the Larboard, and stand off to Sea.

Veer Star-board Sea and Land.

Milton makes use of Larboard in the same manner. When he is upon

Building he mentions Doric Pillars, Pilasters, Cornice, Freeze,

Architrave. When he talks of Heavenly Bodies, you meet with Eccliptic

and Eccentric, the trepidation, Stars dropping from the Zenith, Rays

culminating from the Equator. To which might be added many Instances of

the like kind in several other Arts and Sciences.

I shall in my next [Papers [16]] give an Account of the many particular

Beauties in Milton, which would have been too long to insert under those

general Heads I have already treated of, and with which I intend to

conclude this Piece of Criticism.

L.

[Footnote 1: Poetics, cap. x. Addison got his affected word implex by

reading Aristotle through the translation and notes of André Dacier.

Implex was the word used by the French, but the natural English

translation of Aristotle's [Greek: haploì] and [Greek: peplegménoi] is

into simple and complicated.]

[Footnote 2: [Stories of Achilles, Ulysses, and Æneas.]]

[Footnote 3: Poetics, cap. xi.]

[Footnote 4: that]

[Footnote 5: Dediction of the Æneid; where, after speaking of small

claimants of the honours of the Epic, he says,

Spencer has a better for his "Fairy Queen" had his action been

finished, or been one; and Milton if the Devil had not been his hero,

instead of Adam; if the giant had not foiled the knight, and driven

him out of his stronghold, to wander through the world with his

lady-errant; and if there had not been more machining persons that

human in his poem.]

[Footnote 6: [or]]

[Footnote 7: [Episode]]

[Footnote 8: [greater]]

[Footnote 9: Poetics, cap. xxv. The reason he gives is that when the

Poet speaks in his own person he is not then the Imitator. Other Poets

than Homer, Aristotle adds,

ambitious to figure throughout themselves, imitate but little and

seldom. Homer, after a few preparatory lines, immediately introduces a

man or woman or some other character, for all have their character.

Of Lucan, as an example of the contrary practice, Hobbes said in his

Discourse concerning the Virtues of an Heroic Poem:

No Heroic Poem raises such admiration of the Poet, as his hath done,

though not so great admiration of the persons he introduceth.]

[Footnote 10: Letters to Atticus, Bk. xiii., Ep. 44.]

[Footnote 11: Poetices, Lib. iii. cap. 25.]

[Footnote 12: [of]]

[Footnote 13: [which]]

[Footnote 14: Rhetoric, iii. ch. II, where he cites such verbal jokes

as, You wish him [Greek: pérsai] (i.e. to side with Persia--to ruin

him), and the saying of Isocrates concerning Athens, that its

sovereignty [Greek: archàe] was to the city a beginning [Greek: archàe]

of evils. As this closes Addison's comparison of Milton's practice with

Aristotle's doctrine (the following papers being expressions of his

personal appreciation of the several books of Paradise Lost), we may

note here that Milton would have been quite ready to have his work tried

by the test Addison has been applying. In his letter to Samuel Hartlib,

sketching his ideal of a good Education, he assigns to advanced pupils

logic and then

rhetoric taught out of the rules of Plato, Aristotle, Phalereus,

Cicero, Hermogenes, Longinus. To which poetry would be made

subsequent, or, indeed, rather precedent, as being less subtile and

fine, but more simple, sensuous, and passionate. I mean not here the

prosody of a verse, which they could not but have hit on before among

the rudiments of grammar; but that sublime art which in Aristotle's

Poetics, in Horace, and the Italian commentaries of Castelvetro,

Tasso, Mazzoni, and others, teaches what the laws are of a true epic

poem, what of a dramatic, what of a lyric, what decorum is, which is

the grand masterpiece to observe. This would make them soon perceive

what despicable creatures our common rhymers and play-writers be; and

show them what religious, what glorious and magnificent use might be

made of poetry, both in divine and human things.]

[Footnote 15: [in]]

[Footnote 16: [Saturdays Paper]]

* * * * *

No. 298. Monday, February 11, 1712. Steele.

Nusquam Tuta fides.

Virg.

London, Feb. 9, 1711-12.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

I am a Virgin, and in no Case despicable; but yet such as I am I must

remain, or else become, tis to be feared, less happy: for I find not

the least good Effect from the just Correction you some time since

gave, that too free, that looser Part of our Sex which spoils the Men;

the same Connivance at the Vices, the same easie Admittance of

Addresses, the same vitiated Relish of the Conversation of the

greatest of Rakes (or in a more fashionable Way of expressing ones

self, of such as have seen the World most) still abounds, increases,

multiplies.

The humble Petition therefore of many of the most strictly virtuous,

and of my self, is, That you'll once more exert your Authority, and

that according to your late Promise, your full, your impartial

Authority, on this sillier Branch of our Kind: For why should they be

the uncontroulable Mistresses of our Fate? Why should they with

Impunity indulge the Males in Licentiousness whilst single, and we

have the dismal Hazard and Plague of reforming them when married?

Strike home, Sir, then, and spare not, or all our maiden Hopes, our

gilded Hopes of nuptial Felicity are frustrated, are vanished, and you

your self, as well as Mr. Courtly, will, by smoothing over immodest

Practices with the Gloss of soft and harmless Names, for ever forfeit

our Esteem. Nor think that I'm herein more severe than need be: If I

have not reason more than enough, do you and the World judge from this

ensuing Account, which, I think, will prove the Evil to be universal.

You must know then, that since your Reprehension of this Female

Degeneracy came out, I've had a Tender of Respects from no less than

five Persons, of tolerable Figure too as Times go: But the Misfortune

is, that four of the five are professed Followers of the Mode. They

would face me down, that all Women of good Sense ever were, and ever

will be, Latitudinarians in Wedlock; and always did, and will, give

and take what they profanely term Conjugal Liberty of Conscience.

The two first of them, a Captain and a Merchant, to strengthen their

Argument, pretend to repeat after a Couple, a Brace of Ladies of

Quality and Wit, That Venus was always kind to Mars; and what Soul

that has the least spark of Generosity, can deny a Man of Bravery any

thing? And how pitiful a Trader that, whom no Woman but his own Wife

will have Correspondence and Dealings with? Thus these; whilst the

third, the Country Squire, confessed, That indeed he was surprized

into good Breeding, and entered into the Knowledge of the World

unawares. That dining tother Day at a Gentleman's House, the Person

who entertained was obliged to leave him with his Wife and Nieces;

where they spoke with so much Contempt of an absent Gentleman for

being slow at a Hint, that he had resolved never to be drowsy,

unmannerly, or stupid for the future at a Friends House; and on a

hunting Morning, not to pursue the Game either with the Husband

abroad, or with the Wife at home.

The next that came was a Tradesman, [no [1]] less full of the Age

than the former; for he had the Gallantry to tell me, that at a late

Junket which he was invited to, the Motion being made, and the

Question being put, twas by Maid, Wife and Widow resolved nemine

contradicente, That a young sprightly Journeyman is absolutely

necessary in their Way of Business: To which they had the Assent and

Concurrence of the Husbands present. I dropped him a Curtsy, and gave

him to understand that was his Audience of Leave.

I am reckoned pretty, and have had very many Advances besides these;

but have been very averse to hear any of them, from my Observation on

these above-mentioned, till I hoped some Good from the Character of

my present Admirer, a Clergyman. But I find even amongst them there

are indirect Practices in relation to Love, and our Treaty is at

present a little in Suspence, till some Circumstances are cleared.

There is a Charge against him among the Women, and the Case is this:

It is alledged, That a certain endowed Female would have appropriated

her self to and consolidated her self with a Church, which my Divine

now enjoys; (or, which is the same thing, did prostitute her self to

her Friends doing this for her): That my Ecclesiastick, to obtain the

one, did engage himself to take off the other that lay on Hand; but

that on his Success in the Spiritual, he again renounced the Carnal.

I put this closely to him, and taxed him with Disingenuity. He to

clear himself made the subsequent Defence, and that in the most solemn

Manner possible: That he was applied to and instigated to accept of a

Benefice: That a conditional Offer thereof was indeed made him at

first, but with Disdain by him rejected: That when nothing (as they

easily perceived) of this Nature could bring him to their Purpose,

Assurance of his being entirely unengaged before-hand, and safe from

all their After-Expectations (the only Stratagem left to draw him in)

was given him: That pursuant to this the Donation it self was without

Delay, before several reputable Witnesses, tendered to him gratis,

with the open Profession of not the least Reserve, or most minute

Condition; but that yet immediately after Induction, his insidious

Introducer (or her crafty Procurer, which you will) industriously

spread the Report, which had reached my Ears, not only in the

Neighbourhood of that said Church, but in London, in the University,

in mine and his own County, and where-ever else it might probably

obviate his Application to any other Woman, and so confine him to this

alone: And, in a Word, That as he never did make any previous Offer of

his Service, or the least Step to her Affection; so on his Discovery

of these Designs thus laid to trick him, he could not but afterwards,

in Justice to himself, vindicate both his Innocence and Freedom by

keeping his proper Distance.

This is his Apology, and I think I shall be satisfied with it. But I

cannot conclude my tedious Epistle, without recommending to you not

only to resume your former Chastisement, but to add to your Criminals

the Simoniacal Ladies, who seduce the sacred Order into the Difficulty

of either breaking a mercenary Troth made to them whom they ought not

to deceive, or by breaking or keeping it offending against him whom

they cannot deceive. Your Assistance and Labours of this sort would be

of great Benefit, and your speedy Thoughts on this Subject would be

very seasonable to,

SIR, Your most obedient Servant,

Chastity Loveworth.

T.

[Footnote 1: [nor]]

* * * * *

No. 299. Tuesday, February 12, 1712. Addison.

Malo Venusinam, quam te, Cornelia, Mater

Gracchorum, si cum magnis virtutibus affers

Grande supercilium, et numeras in dote triumphos.

Tolle tuum precor Annibalem victumque Syphacem

In castris, et cum totâ Carthagine migra.

Juv.

It is observed, that a Man improves more by reading the Story of a

Person eminent for Prudence and Virtue, than by the finest Rules and

Precepts of Morality. In the same manner a Representation of those

Calamities and Misfortunes which a weak Man suffers from wrong Measures,

and ill-concerted Schemes of Life, is apt to make a deeper Impression

upon our Minds, than the wisest Maxims and Instructions that can be

given us, for avoiding the like Follies and Indiscretions on our own

private Conduct. It is for this Reason that I lay before my Reader the

following Letter, and leave it with him to make his own use of it,

without adding any Reflections of my own upon the Subject Matter.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

Having carefully perused a Letter sent you by Josiah Fribble, Esq.,

with your subsequent Discourse upon Pin-Money, I do presume to trouble

you with an Account of my own Case, which I look upon to be no less

deplorable than that of Squire Fribble. I am a Person of no

Extraction, having begun the World with a small parcel of Rusty Iron,

and was for some Years commonly known by the Name of Jack Anvil. [1] I

have naturally a very happy Genius for getting Money, insomuch that by

the Age of Five and twenty I had scraped together Four thousand two

hundred Pounds Five Shillings, and a few odd Pence. I then launched

out into considerable Business, and became a bold Trader both by Sea

and Land, which in a few Years raised me a very [great [2]] Fortune.

For these my Good Services I was Knighted in the thirty fifth Year of

my Age, and lived with great Dignity among my City-Neighbours by the

Name of Sir John Anvil. Being in my Temper very Ambitious, I was now

bent upon making a Family, and accordingly resolved that my

Descendants should have a Dash of Good Blood in their Veins. In order

to this, I made Love to the Lady Mary Oddly, an Indigent young Woman

of Quality. To cut short the Marriage Treaty, I threw her a Charte

Blanche, as our News Papers call it, desiring her to write upon it her

own Terms. She was very concise in her Demands, insisting only that

the Disposal of my Fortune, and the Regulation of my Family, should be

entirely in her Hands. Her Father and Brothers appeared exceedingly

averse to this Match, and would not see me for some time; but at

present are so well reconciled, that they Dine with me almost every

Day, and have borrowed considerable Sums of me; which my Lady Mary

very often twits me with, when she would shew me how kind her

Relations are to me. She had no Portion, as I told you before, but

what she wanted in Fortune, she makes up in Spirit. She at first

changed my Name to Sir John Envil, and at present writes her self Mary

Enville. I have had some Children by her, whom she has Christened with

the Sirnames of her Family, in order, as she tells me, to wear out the

Homeliness of their Parentage by the Fathers Side. Our eldest Son is

the Honourable Oddly Enville, Esq., and our eldest Daughter Harriot

Enville. Upon her first coming into my Family, she turned off a parcel

of very careful Servants, who had been long with me, and introduced in

their stead a couple of Black-a-moors, and three or four very genteel

Fellows in Laced Liveries, besides her French woman, who is

perpetually making a Noise in the House in a Language which no body

understands, except my Lady Mary. She next set her self to reform

every Room of my House, having glazed all my Chimney-pieces with

Looking-glass, and planted every Corner with such heaps of China, that

I am obliged to move about my own House with the greatest Caution and

Circumspection, for fear of hurting some of our Brittle Furniture. She

makes an Illumination once a Week with Wax-Candles in one of the

largest Rooms, in order, as she phrases it, to see Company. At which

time she always desires me to be Abroad, or to confine my self to the

Cock-loft, that I may not disgrace her among her Visitants of Quality.

Her Footmen, as I told you before, are such Beaus that I do not much

care for asking them Questions; when I do, they answer me with a sawcy

Frown, and say that every thing, which I find Fault with, was done by

my Lady Marys Order. She tells me that she intends they shall wear

Swords with their next Liveries, having lately observed the Footmen of

two or three Persons of Quality hanging behind the Coach with Swords

by their Sides. As soon as the first Honey-Moon was over, I

represented to her the Unreasonableness of those daily Innovations

which she made in my Family, but she told me I was no longer to

consider my self as Sir John Anvil, but as her Husband; and added,

with a Frown, that I did not seem to know who she was. I was surprized

to be treated thus, after such Familiarities as had passed between us.

But she has since given me to know, that whatever Freedoms she may

sometimes indulge me in, she expects in general to be treated with the

Respect that is due to her Birth and Quality. Our Children have been

trained up from their Infancy with so many Accounts of their Mothers

Family, that they know the Stories of all the great Men and Women it

has produced. Their Mother tells them, that such an one commanded in

such a Sea Engagement, that their Great Grandfather had a Horse shot

under him at Edge-hill, that their Uncle was at the Siege of Buda, and

that her Mother danced in a Ball at Court with the Duke of Monmouth;

with abundance of Fiddle-faddle of the same Nature. I was, the other

Day, a little out of Countenance at a Question of my little Daughter

Harriot, who asked me, with a great deal of Innocence, why I never

told them of the Generals and Admirals that had been in my Family. As

for my Eldest Son Oddly, he has been so spirited up by his Mother,

that if he does not mend his Manners I shall go near to disinherit

him. He drew his Sword upon me before he was nine years old, and told

me, that he expected to be used like a Gentleman; upon my offering to

correct him for his Insolence, my Lady Mary stept in between us, and

told me, that I ought to consider there was some Difference between

his Mother and mine. She is perpetually finding out the Features of

her own Relations in every one of my Children, tho, by the way, I

have a little Chubfaced Boy as like me as he can stare, if I durst say

so; but what most angers me, when she sees me playing with any of them

upon my Knee, she has begged me more than once to converse with the

Children as little as possibly, that they may not learn any of my

awkward Tricks.

You must farther know, since I am opening my Heart to you, that she

thinks her self my Superior in Sense, as much as she is in Quality,

and therefore treats me like a plain well-meaning Man, who does not

know the World. She dictates to me in my own Business, sets me right

in Point of Trade, and if I disagree with her about any of my Ships at

Sea, wonders that I will dispute with her, when I know very well that

her Great Grandfather was a Flag Officer.

To compleat my Sufferings, she has teazed me for this Quarter of [a

[3]] Year last past, to remove into one of the Squares at the other

End of the Town, promising for my Encouragement, that I shall have as

good a Cock-loft as any Gentleman in the Square; to which the

Honourable Oddly Enville, Esq., always adds, like a Jack-a-napes as he

is, that he hopes twill be as near the Court as possible.

In short, Mr. SPECTATOR, I am so much out of my natural Element, that

to recover my old Way of Life I would be content to begin the World

again, and be plain Jack Anvil; but alas! I am in for Life, and am

bound to subscribe my self, with great Sorrow of Heart,

Your humble Servant,

John Enville, Knt.

L.

[Footnote 1: This has been said to refer to a Sir Ambrose Crowley, who

changed his name to Crawley.]

[Footnote 2: [considerable] corrected by an erratum in No. 301.]

[Footnote 3: [an]]

* * * * *

No. 300. Wednesday, February 13, 1712. Steele.

Diversum vitio vitium prope majus.

Hor.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

When you talk of the Subject of Love, and the Relations arising from

it, methinks you should take Care to leave no Fault unobserved which

concerns the State of Marriage. The great Vexation that I have

observed in it, is, that the wedded Couple seem to want Opportunities

of being often enough alone together, and are forced to quarrel and be

fond before Company. Mr. Hotspur and his Lady, in a Room full of their

Friends, are ever saying something so smart to each other, and that

but just within Rules, that the whole Company stand in the utmost

Anxiety and Suspence for fear of their falling into Extremities which

they could not be present at. On the other Side, Tom Faddle and his

pretty Spouse where-ever they come are billing at such a Rate, as they

think must do our Hearts good who behold em. Cannot you possibly

propose a Mean between being Wasps and Doves in Publick? I should

think if you advised to hate or love sincerely it would be better: For

if they would be so discreet as to hate from the very Bottom of their

Hearts, their Aversion would be too strong for little Gibes every

Moment; and if they loved with that calm and noble Value which dwells

in the Heart, with a Warmth like that of Life-Blood, they would not be

so impatient of their Passion as to fall into observable Fondness.

This Method, in each Case, would save Appearances; but as those who

offend on the fond Side are by much the fewer, I would have you begin

with them, and go on to take Notice of a most impertinent Licence

married Women take, not only to be very loving to their Spouses in

Publick, but also make nauseous Allusions to private Familiarities,

and the like. Lucina is a Lady of the greatest Discretion, you must

know, in the World; and withal very much a Physician: Upon the

Strength of these two Qualities there is nothing she will not speak of

before us Virgins; and she every Day talks with a very grave Air in

such a Manner, as is very improper so much as to be hinted at but to

obviate the greatest Extremity. Those whom they call good Bodies,

notable People, hearty Neighbours, and the purest goodest Company in

the World, are the great Offenders in this Kind. Here I think I have

laid before you an open Field for Pleasantry; and hope you will shew

these People that at least they are not witty: In which you will save

from many a Blush a daily Sufferer, who is very much

Your most humble Servant,

Susanna Loveworth.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

In yours of Wednesday the 30th past, you and your Correspondent are

very severe on a sort of Men, whom you call Male Coquets; but without

any other Reason, in my Apprehension, than that of paying a shallow

Compliment to the fair Sex, by accusing some Men of imaginary Faults,

that the Women may not seem to be the more faulty Sex; though at the

same time you suppose there are some so weak as to be imposed upon by

fine Things and false Addresses. I cant persuade my self that your

Design is to debar the Sexes the Benefit of each others Conversation

within the Rules of Honour; nor will you, I dare say, recommend to

em, or encourage the common Tea-Table Talk, much less that of

Politicks and Matters of State: And if these are forbidden Subjects of

Discourse, then, as long as there are any Women in the World who take

a Pleasure in hearing themselves praised, and can bear the Sight of a

Man prostrate at their Feet, so long I shall make no Wonder that there

are those of the other Sex who will pay them those impertinent

Humiliations. We should have few People such Fools as to practise

Flattery, if all were so wise as to despise it. I don't deny but you

would do a meritorious Act, if you could prevent all Impositions on

the Simplicity of young Women; but I must confess I don't apprehend

you have laid the Fault on the proper Person, and if I trouble you

with my Thoughts upon it I promise my self your Pardon. Such of the

Sex as are raw and innocent, and most exposed to these Attacks, have,

or their Parents are much to blame if they have not, one to advise and

guard em, and are obliged themselves to take Care of em: but if

these, who ought to hinder Men from all Opportunities of this sort of

Conversation, instead of that encourage and promote it, the Suspicion

is very just that there are some private Reasons for it; and Ill

leave it to you to determine on which Side a Part is then acted. Some

Women there are who are arrived at Years of Discretion, I mean are got

out of the Hands of their Parents and Governours, and are set up for

themselves, who yet are liable to these Attempts; but if these are

prevailed upon, you must excuse me if I lay the Fault upon them, that

their Wisdom is not grown with their Years. My Client, Mr. Strephon,

whom you summoned to declare himself, gives you Thanks however for

your Warning, and begs the Favour only to inlarge his Time for a Week,

or to the last Day of the Term, and then hell appear gratis, and pray

no Day over.

Yours,

Philanthropes.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

I was last Night to visit a Lady who I much esteem, and always took

for my Friend; but met with so very different a Reception from what I

expected, that I cannot help applying my self to you on this Occasion.

In the room of that Civility and Familiarity I used to be treated with

by her, an affected Strangeness in her Looks, and Coldness in her

Behaviour, plainly told me I was not the welcome Guest which the

Regard and Tenderness she has often expressed for me gave me Reason to

flatter my self to think I was. Sir, this is certainly a great Fault,

and I assure you a very common one; therefore I hope you will think it

a fit Subject for some Part of a Spectator. Be pleased to acquaint us

how we must behave our selves towards this valetudinary Friendship,

subject to so many Heats and Colds, and you will oblige,

SIR, Your humble Servant,

Miranda.

SIR,

I cannot forbear acknowledging the Delight your late Spectators on

Saturdays have given me; for it is writ in the honest Spirit of

Criticism, and called to my Mind the following four Lines I had read

long since in a Prologue to a Play called Julius Cæsar [1] which has

deserved a better Fate. The Verses are addressed to the little

Criticks.

Shew your small Talent, and let that suffice ye;

But grow not vain upon it, I advise ye.

For every Fop can find out Faults in Plays:

You'll ne'er arrive at Knowing when to praise.

Yours, D. G.

T.

[Footnote 1: By William Alexander, Earl of Stirling (who died in 1640);

one of his four Monarchicke Tragedies. He received a grant of Nova

Scotia to colonize, and was secretary of state for Scotland.]

* * * * *

No. 301. Thursday, February 14, 1712. Budgell.

Possint ut Juvenes visere fervidi

Multo non sine risu,

Dilapsam in cineres facem.

Hor.

We are generally so much pleased with any little Accomplishments, either

of Body or Mind, which have once made us remarkable in the World, that

we endeavour to perswade our selves it is not in the Power of Time to

rob us of them. We are eternally pursuing the same Methods which first

procured us the Applauses of Mankind. It is from this Notion that an

Author writes on, tho he is come to Dotage; without ever considering

that his Memory is impaired, and that he has lost that Life, and those

Spirits, which formerly raised his Fancy, and fired his Imagination. The

same Folly hinders a Man from submitting his Behaviour to his Age, and

makes Clodius, who was a celebrated Dancer at five and twenty, still

love to hobble in a Minuet, tho he is past Threescore. It is this, in a

Word, which fills the Town with elderly Fops, and superannuated Coquets.

Canidia, a Lady of this latter Species, passed by me Yesterday in her

Coach. Canidia was an haughty Beauty of the last Age, and was followed

by Crowds of Adorers, whose Passions only pleased her, as they gave her

Opportunities of playing the Tyrant. She then contracted that awful Cast

of the Eye and forbidding Frown, which she has not yet laid aside, and

has still all the Insolence of Beauty without its Charms. If she now

attracts the Eyes of any Beholders, it is only by being remarkably

ridiculous; even her own Sex laugh at her Affectation; and the Men, who

always enjoy an ill-natured Pleasure in seeing an imperious Beauty

humbled and neglected, regard her with the same Satisfaction that a free

Nation sees a Tyrant in Disgrace.

WILL. HONEYCOMB, who is a great Admirer of the Gallantries in King

Charles the Seconds Reign, lately communicated to me a Letter written

by a Wit of that Age to his Mistress, who it seems was a Lady of

Canidia's Humour; and tho I do not always approve of my Friend WILLS

Taste, I liked this Letter so well, that I took a Copy of it, with which

I shall here present my Reader.

To CLOE.

MADAM,

Since my waking Thoughts have never been able to influence you in my

Favour, I am resolved to try whether my Dreams can make any Impression

on you. To this end I shall give you an Account of a very odd one

which my Fancy presented to me last Night, within a few Hours after I

left you.

Methought I was unaccountably conveyed into the most delicious Place

mine Eyes ever beheld, it was a large Valley divided by a River of the

purest Water I had ever seen. The Ground on each Side of it rose by an

easie Ascent, and was covered with Flowers of an infinite Variety,

which as they were reflected in the Water doubled the Beauties of the

Place, or rather formed an Imaginary Scene more beautiful than the

real. On each Side of the River was a Range of lofty Trees, whose

Boughs were loaden with almost as many Birds as Leaves. Every Tree was

full of Harmony.

I had not gone far in this pleasant Valley, when I perceived that it

was terminated by a most magnificent Temple. The Structure was

ancient, and regular. On the Top of it was figured the God Saturn, in

the same Shape and Dress that the Poets usually represent Time.

As I was advancing to satisfie my Curiosity by a nearer View, I was

stopped by an Object far more beautiful than any I had before

discovered in the whole Place. I fancy, Madam, you will easily guess

that this could hardly be any thing but your self; in reality it was

so; you lay extended on the Flowers by the side of the River, so that

your Hands which were thrown in a negligent Posture, almost touched

the Water. Your Eyes were closed; but if your Sleep deprived me of the

Satisfaction of seeing them, it left me at leisure to contemplate

several other Charms, which disappear when your Eyes are open. I could

not but admire the Tranquility you slept in, especially when I

considered the Uneasiness you produce in so many others.

While I was wholly taken up in these Reflections, the Doors of the

Temple flew open, with a very great Noise; and lifting up my Eyes, I

saw two Figures, in human Shape, coming into the Valley. Upon a nearer

Survey, I found them to be YOUTH and LOVE. The first was encircled

with a kind of Purple Light, that spread a Glory over all the Place;

the other held a flaming Torch in his Hand. I could observe, that all

the way as they came towards us, the Colours of the Flowers appeared

more lively, the Trees shot out in Blossoms, the Birds threw

themselves into Pairs, and Serenaded them as they passed: The whole

Face of Nature glowed with new Beauties. They were no sooner arrived

at the Place where you lay, when they seated themselves on each Side

of you. On their Approach, methought I saw a new Bloom arise in your

Face, and new Charms diffuse themselves over your whole Person. You

appeared more than Mortal; but, to my great Surprise, continued fast

asleep, tho the two Deities made several gentle Efforts to awaken

you.

After a short Time, YOUTH (displaying a Pair of Wings, which I had

not before taken notice of) flew off. LOVE still remained, and holding

the Torch which he had in his Hand before your Face, you still

appeared as beautiful as ever. The glaring of the Light in your Eyes

at length awakened you; when, to my great Surprise, instead of

acknowledging the Favour of the Deity, you frowned upon him, and

struck the Torch out of his Hand into the River. The God after having

regarded you with a Look that spoke at [once [1]] his Pity and

Displeasure, flew away. Immediately a kind of Gloom overspread the

whole Place. At the same time I saw an hideous Spectre enter at one

end of the Valley. His Eyes were sunk into his Head, his Face was pale

and withered, and his Skin puckered up in Wrinkles. As he walked on

the sides of the Bank the River froze, the Flowers faded, the Trees

shed their Blossoms, the Birds dropped from off the Boughs, and fell

dead at his Feet. By these Marks I knew him to be OLD-AGE. You were

seized with the utmost Horror and Amazement at his Approach. You

endeavoured to have fled, but the Phantome caught you in his Arms. You

may easily guess at the Change you suffered in this Embrace. For my

own Part, though I am still too full of the [frightful [2]] Idea, I

will not shock you with a Description of it. I was so startled at the

Sight that my Sleep immediately left me, and I found my self awake, at

leisure to consider of a Dream which seems too extraordinary to be

without a Meaning. I am, Madam, with the greatest Passion,

Your most Obedient,

most Humble Servant, &c.

X.

[Footnote 1: [the same time]]

[Footnote 2: [dreadful]]

* * * * *

No. 302. Friday, February 15, 1712. Steele.

Lachrymæque decoræ,

Gratior et pulchro veniens in corpore Virtus.

Vir. Æn. 5.

I read what I give for the Entertainment of this Day with a great deal

of Pleasure, and publish it just as it came to my Hands. I shall be very

glad to find there are many guessed at for Emilia.

Mr. SPECTATOR, [1]

If this Paper has the good Fortune to be honoured with a Place in your

Writings, I shall be the more pleased, because the Character of Emilia

is not an imaginary but a real one. I have industriously obscured the

whole by the Addition of one or two Circumstances of no Consequence,

that the Person it is drawn from might still be concealed; and that

the Writer of it might not be in the least suspected, and for [other

[2]] Reasons, I chuse not to give it the Form of a Letter: But if,

besides the Faults of the Composition, there be any thing in it more

proper for a Correspondent than the SPECTATOR himself to write, I

submit it to your better Judgment, to receive any other Model you

think fit.

I am, SIR,

Your very humble Servant.

There is nothing which gives one so pleasing a Prospect of human

Nature, as the Contemplation of Wisdom and Beauty: The latter is the

peculiar Portion of that Sex which is therefore called Fair; but the

happy Concurrence of both these Excellencies in the same Person, is

a Character too celestial to be frequently met with. Beauty is an

over-weaning self-sufficient thing, careless of providing it self

any more substantial Ornaments; nay so little does it consult its

own Interests, that it too often defeats it self by betraying that

Innocence which renders it lovely and desirable. As therefore Virtue

makes a beautiful Woman appear more beautiful, so Beauty makes a

virtuous Woman really more virtuous. Whilst I am considering these

two Perfections gloriously united in one Person, I cannot help

representing to my Mind the Image of Emilia.

Who ever beheld the charming Emilia, without feeling in his Breast

at once the Glow of Love and the Tenderness of virtuous Friendship?

The unstudied Graces of her Behaviour, and the pleasing Accents of

her Tongue, insensibly draw you on to wish for a nearer Enjoyment of

them; but even her Smiles carry in them a silent Reproof to the

Impulses of licentious Love. Thus, tho the Attractives of her

Beauty play almost irresistibly upon you and create Desire, you

immediately stand corrected not by the Severity but the Decency of

her Virtue. That Sweetness and Good-humour which is so visible in

her Face, naturally diffuses it self into every Word and Action: A

Man must be a Savage, who at the Sight of Emilia, is not more

inclined to do her Good than gratifie himself. Her Person, as it is

thus studiously embellished by Nature, thus adorned with

unpremeditated Graces, is a fit Lodging for a Mind so fair and

lovely; there dwell rational Piety, modest Hope, and chearful

Resignation.

Many of the prevailing Passions of Mankind do undeservedly pass

under the Name of Religion; which is thus made to express itself in

Action, according to the Nature of the Constitution in which it

resides: So that were we to make a Judgment from Appearances, one

would imagine Religion in some is little better than Sullenness and

Reserve, in many Fear, in others the Despondings of a melancholly

Complexion, in others the Formality of insignificant unaffecting

Observances, in others Severity, in others Ostentation. In Emilia it

is a Principle founded in Reason and enlivened with Hope; it does

not break forth into irregular Fits and Sallies of Devotion, but is

an uniform and consistent Tenour of Action; It is strict without

Severity, compassionate without Weakness; it is the Perfection of

that good Humour which proceeds from the Understanding, not the

Effect of an easy Constitution.

By a generous Sympathy in Nature, we feel our selves disposed to

mourn when any of our Fellow-Creatures are afflicted; but injured

Innocence and Beauty in Distresses an Object that carries in it

something inexpressibly moving: It softens the most manly Heart with

the tenderest Sensations of Love and Compassion, till at length it

confesses its Humanity, and flows out into Tears.

Were I to relate that part of Emilia's Life which has given her an

Opportunity of exerting the Heroism of Christianity, it would make

too sad, too tender a Story: But when I consider her alone in the

midst of her Distresses, looking beyond this gloomy Vale of

Affliction and Sorrow into the Joys of Heaven and Immortality, and

when I see her in Conversation thoughtless and easie as if she were

the most happy Creature in the World, I am transported with

Admiration. Surely never did such a Philosophic Soul inhabit such a

beauteous Form! For Beauty is often made a Privilege against Thought

and Reflection; it laughs at Wisdom, and will not abide the Gravity

of its Instructions.

Were I able to represent Emilia's Virtues in their proper Colours

and their due Proportions, Love or Flattery might perhaps be thought

to have drawn the Picture larger than Life; but as this is but an

imperfect Draught of so excellent a Character, and as I cannot, will

not hope to have any Interest in her Person, all that I can say of

her is but impartial Praise extorted from me by the prevailing

Brightness of her Virtues. So rare a Pattern of Female Excellence

ought not to be concealed, but should be set out to the View and

Imitation of the World; for how amiable does Virtue appear thus as

it were made visible to us in so fair an Example!

Honoria's Disposition is of a very different Turn: Her Thoughts are

wholly bent upon Conquest and arbitrary Power. That she has some Wit

and Beauty no Body denies, and therefore has the Esteem of all her

Acquaintance as a Woman of an agreeable Person and Conversation; but

(whatever her Husband may think of it) that is not sufficient for

Honoria: She waves that Title to Respect as a mean Acquisition, and

demands Veneration in the Right of an Idol; for this Reason her

natural Desire of Life is continually checked with an inconsistent

Fear of Wrinkles and old Age.

Emilia cannot be supposed ignorant of her personal Charms, tho she

seems to be so; but she will not hold her Happiness upon so

precarious a Tenure, whilst her Mind is adorned with Beauties of a

more exalted and lasting Nature. When in the full Bloom of Youth and

Beauty we saw her surrounded with a Crowd of Adorers, she took no

Pleasure in Slaughter and Destruction, gave no false deluding Hopes

which might encrease the Torments of her disappointed Lovers; but

having for some Time given to the Decency of a Virgin Coyness, and

examined the Merit of their several Pretensions, she at length

gratified her own, by resigning herself to the ardent Passion of

Bromius. Bromius was then Master of many good Qualities and a

moderate Fortune, which was soon after unexpectedly encreased to a

plentiful Estate. This for a good while proved his Misfortune, as it

furnished his unexperienced Age with the Opportunities of Evil

Company and a sensual Life. He might have longer wandered in the

Labyrinths of Vice and Folly, had not Emilia's prudent Conduct won

him over to the Government of his Reason. Her Ingenuity has been

constantly employed in humanizing his Passions and refining his

Pleasures. She shewed him by her own Example, that Virtue is

consistent with decent Freedoms and good Humour, or rather, that it

cannot subsist without em. Her good Sense readily instructed her,

that a silent Example and an easie unrepining Behaviour, will always

be more perswasive than the Severity of Lectures and Admonitions;

and that there is so much Pride interwoven into the Make of human

Nature, that an obstinate Man must only take the Hint from another,

and then be left to advise and correct himself. Thus by an artful

Train of Management and unseen Perswasions, having at first brought

him not to dislike, and at length to be pleased with that which

otherwise he would not have bore to hear of, she then knew how to

press and secure this Advantage, by approving it as his Thoughts,

and seconding it as his Proposal. By this Means she has gained an

Interest in some of his leading Passions, and made them accessary to

his Reformation.

There is another Particular of Emilia's Conduct which I cant

forbear mentioning: To some perhaps it may at first Sight appear but

a trifling inconsiderable Circumstance but for my Part, I think it

highly worthy of Observation, and to be recommended to the

Consideration of the fair Sex. I have often thought wrapping Gowns

and dirty Linnen, with all that huddled Oeconomy of Dress which

passes under the general Name of a Mob, the Bane of conjugal Love,

and one of the readiest Means imaginable to alienate the Affection

of an Husband, especially a fond one. I have heard some Ladies, who

have been surprized by Company in such a Deshabille, apologize for

it after this Manner; Truly I am ashamed to be caught in this

Pickle; but my Husband and I were sitting all alone by our selves,

and I did not expect to see such good Company--This by the way is a

fine Compliment to the good Man, which tis ten to one but he

returns in dogged Answers and a churlish Behaviour, without knowing

what it is that puts him out of Humour.

Emilia's Observation teaches her, that as little Inadvertencies and

Neglects cast a Blemish upon a great Character; so the Neglect of

Apparel, even among the most intimate Friends, does insensibly

lessen their Regards to each other, by creating a Familiarity too

low and contemptible. She understands the Importance of those Things

which the Generality account Trifles; and considers every thing as a

Matter of Consequence, that has the least Tendency towards keeping

up or abating the Affection of her Husband; him she esteems as a fit

Object to employ her Ingenuity in pleasing, because he is to be

pleased for Life.

By the Help of these, and a thousand other nameless Arts, which tis

easier for her to practise than for another to express, by the

Obstinacy of her Goodness and unprovoked Submission, in spight of

all her Afflictions and ill Usage, Bromius is become a Man of Sense

and a kind Husband, and Emilia a happy Wife.

Ye guardian Angels to whose Care Heaven has entrusted its dear

Emilia, guide her still forward in the Paths of Virtue, defend her

from the Insolence and Wrongs of this undiscerning World; at length

when we must no more converse with such Purity on Earth, lead her

gently hence innocent and unreprovable to a better Place, where by

an easie Transition from what she now is, she may shine forth an

Angel of Light.

T.

[Footnote 1: The character of Emilia in this paper was by Dr. Bromer, a

clergyman. The lady is said to have been the mother of Mr. Ascham, of

Conington, in Cambridgeshire, and grandmother of Lady Hatton. The

letter has been claimed also for John Hughes (Letters of John Hughes,

&c., vol. iii. p. 8), and Emilia identified with Anne, Countess of

Coventry.]

[Footnote 2: [some other]]

* * * * *

No. 303. Saturday, February 16, 1712. Addison.

--volet hæc sub luce videri,

Judicis argulum quæ non formidat acumen.

Hor.

I have seen in the Works of a Modern Philosopher, a Map of the Spots in

the Sun. My last Paper of the Faults and Blemishes in Milton's Paradise

Lost, may be considered as a Piece of the same Nature. To pursue the

Allusion: As it is observed, that among the bright Parts of the Luminous

Body above mentioned, there are some which glow more intensely, and dart

a stronger Light than others; so, notwithstanding I have already shewn

Milton's Poem to be very beautiful in general, I shall now proceed to

take Notice of such Beauties as appear to me more exquisite than the

rest. Milton has proposed the Subject of his Poem in the following

Verses.

Of Man's first disobedience, and the fruit

Of that forbidden tree, whose mortal taste

Brought Death into the World and all our woe,

With loss of Eden, till one greater Man

Restore us, and regain the blisful Seat,

Sing Heavenly Muse--

These Lines are perhaps as plain, simple and unadorned as any of the

whole Poem, in which Particular the Author has conformed himself to the

Example of Homer and the Precept of Horace.

His Invocation to a Work which turns in a great measure upon the

Creation of the World, is very properly made to the Muse who inspired

Moses in those Books from whence our Author drew his Subject, and to the

Holy Spirit who is therein represented as operating after a particular

manner in the first Production of Nature. This whole Exordium rises very

happily into noble Language and Sentiment, as I think the Transition to

the Fable is exquisitely beautiful and natural.

The Nine Days Astonishment, in which the Angels lay entranced after

their dreadful Overthrow and Fall from Heaven, before they could recover

either the use of Thought or Speech, is a noble Circumstance, and very

finely imagined. The Division of Hell into Seas of Fire, and into firm

Ground impregnated with the same furious Element, with that particular

Circumstance of the Exclusion of Hope from those Infernal Regions, are

Instances of the same great and fruitful Invention.

The Thoughts in the first Speech and Description of Satan, who is one of

the Principal Actors in this Poem, are wonderfully proper to give us a

full Idea of him. His Pride, Envy and Revenge, Obstinacy, Despair and

Impenitence, are all of them very artfully interwoven. In short, his

first Speech is a Complication of all those Passions which discover

themselves separately in several other of his Speeches in the Poem. The

whole part of this great Enemy of Mankind is filled with such Incidents

as are very apt to raise and terrifie the Readers Imagination. Of this

nature, in the Book now before us, is his being the first that awakens

out of the general Trance, with his Posture on the burning Lake, his

rising from it, and the Description of his Shield and Spear.

Thus Satan talking to his nearest Mate,

With head up-lift above the wave, and eyes

That sparkling blazed, his other parts beside

Prone on the Flood, extended long and large,

Lay floating many a rood--

Forthwith upright he rears from off the pool

His mighty Stature; on each hand the flames

Drivn backward slope their pointing Spires, and roared

In Billows, leave i'th midst a horrid vale.

Then with expanded wings he steers his flight

Aloft, incumbent on the dusky Air

That felt unusual weight--

--His pondrous Shield

Ethereal temper, massie, large and round,

Behind him cast; the broad circumference

Hung on his Shoulders like the Moon, whose orb

Thro Optick Glass the Tuscan Artist views

At Evning, from the top of Fesole,

Or in Valdarno, to descry new Lands,

Rivers, or Mountains, on her spotted Globe.

His Spear (to equal which the tallest pine

Hewn on Norwegian Hills to be the Mast

Of some great Admiral, were but a wand)

He walk'd with, to support uneasie Steps

Over the burning Marl--

To which we may add his Call to the fallen Angels that lay plunged and

stupified in the Sea of Fire.

He call'd so loud, that all the hollow deep

Of Hell resounded--

But there is no single Passage in the whole Poem worked up to a greater

Sublimity, than that wherein his Person is described in those celebrated

Lines:

--He, above the rest

In shape and gesture proudly eminent

Stood like a Tower, &c.

His Sentiments are every way answerable to his Character, and suitable

to a created Being of the most exalted and most depraved Nature. Such is

that in which he takes Possession of his Place of Torments.

--Hail Horrors! hail

Infernal World! and thou profoundest Hell

Receive thy new Possessor, one who brings

A mind not to be changed by place or time.

And Afterwards,

--Here at least

We shall be free; th'Almighty hath not built

Here for his envy, will not drive us hence:

Here we may reign secure; and in my choice

To reign is worth Ambition, tho in Hell:

Better to reign in Hell, than serve in Heavn.

Amidst those Impieties which this Enraged Spirit utters in other places

of the Poem, the Author has taken care to introduce none that is not big

with absurdity, and incapable of shocking a Religious Reader; his Words,

as the Poet himself describes them, bearing only a Semblance of Worth,

not Substance. He is likewise with great Art described as owning his

Adversary to be Almighty. Whatever perverse Interpretation he puts on

the Justice, Mercy, and other Attributes of the Supreme Being, he

frequently confesses his Omnipotence, that being the Perfection he was

forced to allow him, and the only Consideration which could support his

Pride under the Shame of his Defeat.

Nor must I here omit that beautiful Circumstance of his bursting out in

Tears, upon his Survey of those innumerable Spirits whom he had involved

in the same Guilt and Ruin with himself.

--He now prepared

To speak; whereat their doubled ranks they bend

From wing to wing, and half enclose him round

With all his Peers: Attention held them mute.

Thrice he assayed, and thrice in spite of Scorn

Tears such as Angels weep, burst forth--

The Catalogue of Evil Spirits has abundance of Learning in it, and a

very agreeable turn of Poetry, which rises in a great measure from [its

[1]] describing the Places where they were worshipped, by those

beautiful Marks of Rivers so frequent among the Ancient Poets. The

Author had doubtless in this place Homers Catalogue of Ships, and

Virgil's List of Warriors, in his View. The Characters of Moloch and

Belial prepare the Readers Mind for their respective Speeches and

Behaviour in the second and sixth Book. The Account of Thammuz is finely

Romantick, and suitable to what we read among the Ancients of the

Worship which was paid to that Idol.

--Thammuz came next behind.

Whose annual Wound in Lebanon allured

The Syrian Damsels to lament his fate,

In amorous Ditties all a Summers day,

While smooth Adonis from his native Rock

Ran purple to the Sea, supposed with Blood

Of Thammuz yearly wounded: the Love tale

Infected Zion's Daughters with like Heat,

Whose wanton Passions in the sacred Porch

Ezekiel saw, when by the Vision led

His Eye survey'd the dark Idolatries

Of alienated Judah.--

The Reader will pardon me if I insert as a Note on this beautiful

Passage, the Account given us by the late ingenious Mr. Maundrell [2] of

this Ancient Piece of Worship, and probably the first Occasion of such a

Superstition.

We came to a fair large River--doubtless the Ancient River Adonis, so

famous for the Idolatrous Rites performed here in Lamentation of

Adonis. We had the Fortune to see what may be supposed to be the

Occasion of that Opinion which Lucian relates, concerning this River,

viz. That this Stream, at certain Seasons of the Year, especially

about the Feast of Adonis, is of a bloody Colour; which the Heathens

looked upon as proceeding from a kind of Sympathy in the River for the

Death of Adonis, who was killed by a wild Boar in the Mountains, out

of which this Stream rises. Something like this we saw actually come

to pass; for the Water was stain'd to a surprizing Redness; and, as we

observ'd in Travelling, had discolour'd the Sea a great way into a

reddish Hue, occasion'd doubtless by a sort of Minium, or red Earth,

washed into the River by the Violence of the Rain, and not by any

Stain from Adonis's Blood.

The Passage in the Catalogue, explaining the manner how Spirits

transform themselves by Contractions or Enlargement of their Dimensions,

is introduced with great Judgment, to make way for several surprizing

Accidents in the Sequel of the Poem. There follows one, at the very End

of the first Book, which is what the French Criticks call Marvellous,

but at the same time probable by reason of the Passage last mentioned.

As soon as the Infernal Palace is finished, we are told the Multitude

and Rabble of Spirits immediately shrunk themselves into a small

Compass, that there might be Room for such a numberless Assembly in this

capacious Hall. But it is the Poets Refinement upon this Thought which

I most admire, and which is indeed very noble in its self. For he tells

us, that notwithstanding the vulgar, among the fallen Spirits,

contracted their Forms, those of the first Rank and Dignity still

preserved their natural Dimensions.

Thus incorporeal Spirits to smallest Forms

Reduced their Shapes immense, and were at large,

Though without Number, still amidst the Hall

Of that Infernal Court. But far within,

And in their own Dimensions like themselves,

The great Seraphick Lords and Cherubim,

In close recess and secret conclave sate,

A thousand Demy-Gods on Golden Seats,

Frequent and full--

The Character of Mammon and the Description of the Pandæmonium, are full

of Beauties.

There are several other Strokes in the first Book wonderfully poetical,

and Instances of that Sublime Genius so peculiar to the Author. Such is

the Description of Azazel's Stature, and of the Infernal Standard, which

he unfurls; as also of that ghastly Light, by which the Fiends appear to

one another in their Place of Torments.

The Seat of Desolation, void of Light,

Save what the glimmring of those livid Flames

Casts pale and dreadful--

The Shout of the whole Host of fallen Angels when drawn up in Battel

Array:

--The universal Host up sent

A Shout that tore Hells Concave, and beyond

Frighted the reign of Chaos and old Night.

The Review, which the Leader makes of his Infernal Army:

--He thro the armed files

Darts his experienc'd eye, and soon traverse

The whole Battalion mews, their Order due,

Their Visages and Stature as of Gods.

Their Number last he sums; and now his Heart

Distends with Pride, and hardning in his strength

Glories--

The Flash of Light which appear'd upon the drawing of their Swords:

He spake: and to confirm his words outflew

Millions of flaming Swords, drawn from the thighs

Of mighty Cherubim; the sudden Blaze

Far round illumin'd Hell--

The sudden Production of the Pandæmonium;

Anon out of the Earth a Fabrick huge

Rose like an Exhalation, with the Sound

Of dulcet Symphonies and Voices sweet.

The Artificial Illuminations made in it:

--From the arched Roof

Pendent by subtle Magick, many a Row

Of Starry Lamps and blazing Crescets, fed

With Naphtha and Asphaltus, yielded Light

As from a Sky--

There are also several noble Similes and Allusions in the First Book of

Paradise Lost. And here I must observe, that when Milton alludes either

to Things or Persons, he never quits his Simile till it rises to some

very great Idea, which is often foreign to the Occasion that gave Birth

to it. The Resemblance does not, perhaps, last above a Line or two, but

the Poet runs on with the Hint till he has raised out of it some

glorious Image or Sentiment, proper to inflame the Mind of the Reader,

and to give it that sublime kind of Entertainment, which is suitable to

the Nature of an Heroick Poem. Those who are acquainted with Homers and

Virgil's way of Writing, cannot but be pleased with this kind of

Structure in Milton's Similitudes. I am the more particular on this

Head, because ignorant Readers, who have formed their Taste upon the

quaint Similes, and little Turns of Wit, which are so much in Vogue

among Modern Poets, cannot relish these Beauties which are of a much

higher Nature, and are therefore apt to censure Milton's Comparisons in

which they do not see any surprizing Points of Likeness. Monsieur

Perrault was a Man of this viciated Relish, and for that very Reason has

endeavoured to turn into Ridicule several of Homers Similitudes, which

he calls Comparisons a longue queue, Long-tail's Comparisons. [3] I

shall conclude this Paper on the First Book of Milton with the Answer

which Monsieur Boileau makes to Perrault on this Occasion;

Comparisons, says he, in Odes and Epic Poems, are not introduced only

to illustrate and embellish the Discourse, but to amuse and relax the

Mind of the Reader, by frequently disengaging him from too painful an

Attention to the Principal Subject, and by leading him into other

agreeable Images. Homer, says he, excelled in this Particular, whose

Comparisons abound with such Images of Nature as are proper to relieve

and diversifie his Subjects. He continually instructs the Reader, and

makes him take notice, even in Objects which are every Day before our

Eyes, of such Circumstances as we should not otherwise have observed.

To this he adds, as a Maxim universally acknowledged,

That it is not necessary in Poetry for the Points of the Comparison

to correspond with one another exactly, but that a general Resemblance

is sufficient, and that too much Nicety in this Particular favours of

the Rhetorician and Epigrammatist.

In short, if we look into the Conduct of Homer, Virgil and Milton, as

the great Fable is the Soul of each Poem, so to give their Works an

agreeable Variety, their Episodes are so many short Fables, and their

Similes so many short Episodes; to which you may add, if you please,

that their Metaphors are so many short Similes. If the Reader considers

the Comparisons in the first Book of Milton, of the Sun in an Eclipse,

of the Sleeping Leviathan, of the Bees swarming about their Hive, of the

Fairy Dance, in the view wherein I have here placed them, he will easily

discover the great Beauties that are in each of those Passages.

L.

[Footnote 1: [his]]

[Footnote 2: A journey from Aleppo to Jerusalem at Easter, A.D. 1697. By

Henry Maundrell, M.A. It was published at Oxford in 1703, and was in a

new edition in 1707. It reached a seventh edition in 1749. Maundrell was

a Fellow of Exter College, which he left to take the appointment of

chaplain to the English factory at Aleppo. The brief account of his

journey is in the form of a diary, and the passage quoted is under the

date, March 15, when they were two days journey from Tripoli. The

stream he identifies with the Adonis was called, he says, by Turks

Ibrahim Pasha. It is near Gibyle, called by the Greeks Byblus, a place

once famous for the birth and temple of Adonis. The extract from

Paradise Lost and the passage from Maundrell were interpolated in the

first reprint of the Spectator.]

[Footnote 3: See note to No. 279. Charles Perrault made himself a

lasting name by his Fairy Tales, a charming embodiment of French nursery

traditions. The four volumes of his Paralièle des Anciens et des

Modernes 1692-6, included the good general idea of human progress, but

worked it out badly, dealing irreverently with Plato as well as Homer

and Pindar, and exalting among the moderns not only Molière and

Corneille, but also Chapelain, Scuderi, and Quinault, whom he called

the greatest lyrical and dramatic poet that France ever had. The

battle had begun with a debate in the Academy: Racine having ironically

complimented Perrault on the ingenuity with which he had elevated little

men above the ancients in his poem (published 1687), le Siècle de Louis

le Grand. Fontenelle touched the matter lightly, as Perraults ally, in

his Digression sur les Anciens et les Modernes but afterwards drew back,

saying, I do not belong to the party which claims me for its chief.

The leaders on the respective sides, unequally matched, were Perrault

and Boileau.]

* * * * *

No. 304. Monday, February 18, 1712. Steele.

Vulnus alit venis et cæco carpitur igni.

Virg.

The Circumstances of my Correspondent, whose Letter I now insert, are so

frequent, that I cannot want Compassion so much as to forbear laying it

before the Town. There is something so mean and inhuman in a direct

Smithfield Bargain for Children, that if this Lover carries his Point,

and observes the Rules he pretends to follow, I do not only wish him

Success, but also that it may animate others to follow his Example. I

know not one Motive relating to this Life which would produce so many

honourable and worthy Actions, as the Hopes of obtaining a Woman of

Merit: There would ten thousand Ways of Industry and honest Ambition be

pursued by young Men, who believed that the Persons admired had Value

enough for their Passion to attend the Event of their good Fortune in

all their Applications, in order to make their Circumstances fall in

with the Duties they owe to themselves, their Families, and their

Country; All these Relations a Man should think of who intends to go

into the State of Marriage, and expects to make it a State of Pleasure

and Satisfaction.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

I have for some Years indulged a Passion for a young Lady of Age and

Quality suitable to my own, but very much superior in Fortune. It is

the Fashion with Parents (how justly I leave you to judge) to make all

Regards give way to the Article of Wealth. From this one Consideration

it is that I have concealed the ardent Love I have for her; but I am

beholden to the Force of my Love for many Advantages which I reaped

from it towards the better Conduct of my Life. A certain Complacency

to all the World, a strong Desire to oblige where-ever it lay in my

Power, and a circumspect Behaviour in all my Words and Actions, have

rendered me more particularly acceptable to all my Friends and

Acquaintance. Love has had the same good Effect upon my Fortune; and I

have encreased in Riches in proportion to my Advancement in those Arts

which make a man agreeable and amiable. There is a certain Sympathy

which will tell my Mistress from these Circumstances, that it is I who

writ this for her Reading, if you will please to insert it. There is

not a downright Enmity, but a great Coldness between our Parents; so

that if either of us declared any kind Sentiment for each other, her

Friends would be very backward to lay an Obligation upon our Family,

and mine to receive it from hers. Under these delicate Circumstances

it is no easie Matter to act with Safety. I have no Reason to fancy my

Mistress has any Regard for me, but from a very disinterested Value

which I have for her. If from any Hint in any future Paper of yours

she gives me the least Encouragement, I doubt not but I shall surmount

all other Difficulties; and inspired by so noble a Motive for the Care

of my Fortune, as the Belief she is to be concerned in it, I will not

despair of receiving her one Day from her Fathers own Hand.

I am, SIR,

Your most obedient humble Servant,

Clytander.

To his Worship the SPECTATOR,

The humble Petition of Anthony Title-Page, Stationer, in the Centre of

Lincoln's-Inn-Fields,

Sheweth,

That your Petitioner and his Fore-Fathers have been Sellers of Books

for Time immemorial; That your Petitioners Ancestor, Crouchback

Title-Page, was the first of that Vocation in Britain; who keeping his

Station (in fair Weather) at the Corner of Lothbury, was by way of

Eminency called the Stationer, a Name which from him all succeeding

Booksellers have affected to bear: That the Station of your Petitioner

and his Father has been in the Place of his present Settlement ever

since that Square has been built: That your Petitioner has formerly

had the Honour of your Worships Custom, and hopes you never had

Reason to complain of your Penny-worths; that particularly he sold you

your first Lilly's Grammar, and at the same Time a Wits Commonwealth

almost as good as new: Moreover, that your first rudimental Essays in

Spectatorship were made in your Petitioners Shop, where you often

practised for Hours together, sometimes on his Books upon the Rails,

sometimes on the little Hieroglyphicks either gilt, silvered, or

plain, which the Egyptian Woman on the other Side of the Shop had

wrought in Gingerbread, and sometimes on the English Youth, who in

sundry Places there were exercising themselves in the traditional

Sports of the Field.

From these Considerations it is, that your Petitioner is encouraged to

apply himself to you, and to proceed humbly to acquaint your Worship,

That he has certain Intelligence that you receive great Numbers of

defamatory Letters designed by their Authors to be published, which

you throw aside and totally neglect: Your Petitioner therefore prays,

that you will please to bestow on him those Refuse Letters, and he

hopes by printing them to get a more plentiful Provision for his

Family; or at the worst, he may be allowed to sell them by the Pound

Weight to his good Customers the Pastry-Cooks of London and

Westminster. And your Petitioner shall ever pray, &c.

To the SPECTATOR,

The humble Petition of Bartholomew Ladylove, of Round-Court in the

Parish of St. Martins in the Fields, in Behalf of himself and

Neighbours,

Sheweth,

That your Petitioners have with great Industry and Application arrived

at the most exact Art of Invitation or Entreaty: That by a beseeching

Air and perswasive Address, they have for many Years last past

peaceably drawn in every tenth Passenger, whether they intended or not

to call at their Shops, to come in and buy; and from that Softness of

Behaviour, have arrived among Tradesmen at the gentle Appellation of

the Fawners.

That there have of late set up amongst us certain Persons of

Monmouth-street and Long-lane, who by the Strength of their Arms, and

Loudness of their Throats, draw off the Regard of all Passengers from

your said Petitioners; from which Violence they are distinguished by

the Name of the Worriers.

That while your Petitioners stand ready to receive Passengers with a

submissive Bow, and repeat with a gentle Voice, Ladies, what do you

want? pray look in here; the Worriers reach out their Hands at

Pistol-shot, and seize the Customers at Arms Length.

That while the Fawners strain and relax the Muscles of their Faces in

making Distinction between a Spinster in a coloured Scarf and an

Handmaid in a Straw-Hat, the Worriers use the same Roughness to both,

and prevail upon the Easiness of the Passengers, to the Impoverishment

of your Petitioners.

Your Petitioners therefore most humbly pray, that the Worriers may not

be permitted to inhabit the politer Parts of the Town; and that

Round-Court may remain a Receptacle for Buyers of a more soft

Education.

And your Petitioners, &c.

The Petition of the New-Exchange, concerning the Arts of Buying and

Selling, and particularly valuing Goods by the Complexion of the Seller,

will be considered on another Occasion.

T.

* * * * *

No. 305. Tuesday, February 19, 1712. Addison.

Non tali auxilio, nec defensoribus istis

Tempus eget.

Virg.

Our late News-Papers being full of the Project now on foot in the Court

of France, for Establishing a Political Academy, and I my self having

received Letters from several Virtuosos among my Foreign

Correspondents, which give some Light into that Affair, I intend to make

it the Subject of this Days Speculation. A general Account of this

Project may be met with in the Daily Courant of last Friday in the

following Words, translated from the Gazette of Amsterdam.

Paris, February 12.

Tis confirmed that the King has resolved to establish a new Academy

for Politicks, of which the Marquis de Torcy, Minister and Secretary

of State, is to be Protector. Six Academicians are to be chosen,

endowed with proper Talents, for beginning to form this Academy, into

which no Person is to be admitted under Twenty-five Years of Age: They

must likewise each have an Estate of Two thousand Livres a Year,

either in Possession, or to come to em by Inheritance. The King will

allow to each a Pension of a Thousand Livres. They are likewise to

have able Masters to teach em the necessary Sciences, and to instruct

them in all the Treaties of Peace, Alliance, and others, which have

been made in several Ages past. These Members are to meet twice a Week

at the Louvre. From this Seminary are to be chosen Secretaries to

Ambassies, who by degrees may advance to higher Employments.

Cardinal Richelieus Politicks made France the Terror of Europe. The

Statesmen who have appeared in the Nation of late Years, have on the

contrary rendered it either the Pity or Contempt of its Neighbours. The

Cardinal erected that famous Academy which has carried all the Parts of

Polite Learning to the greatest Height. His chief Design in that

Institution was to divert the Men of Genius from meddling with

Politicks, a Province in which he did not care to have any one else

interfere with him. On the contrary, the Marquis de Torcy seems resolved

to make several young Men in France as Wise as himself, and is therefore

taken up at present in establishing a Nursery of Statesmen.

Some private Letters add, that there will also be erected a Seminary of

Petticoat Politicians, who are to be brought up at the Feet of Madam de

Maintenon, and to be dispatched into Foreign Courts upon any Emergencies

of State; but as the News of this last Project has not been yet

confirmed, I shall take no farther Notice of it.

Several of my Readers may doubtless remember that upon the Conclusion of

the last War, which had been carried on so successfully by the Enemy,

their Generals were many of them transformed into Ambassadors; but the

Conduct of those who have commanded in the present War, has, it seems,

brought so little Honour and Advantage to their great Monarch, that he

is resolved to trust his Affairs no longer in the Hands of those

Military Gentlemen.

The Regulations of this new Academy very much deserve our Attention. The

Students are to have in Possession, or Reversion, an Estate of two

thousand French Livres per Annum, which, as the present Exchange runs,

will amount to at least one hundred and twenty six Pounds English. This,

with the Royal Allowance of a Thousand Livres, will enable them to find

themselves in Coffee and Snuff; not to mention News-Papers, Pen and Ink,

Wax and Wafers, with the like Necessaries for Politicians.

A Man must be at least Five and Twenty before he can be initiated into

the Mysteries of this Academy, tho there is no Question but many grave

Persons of a much more advanced Age, who have been constant Readers of

the Paris Gazette, will be glad to begin the World a-new, and enter

themselves upon this List of Politicians.

The Society of these hopeful young Gentlemen is to be under the

Direction of six Professors, who, it seems, are to be Speculative

Statesmen, and drawn out of the Body of the Royal Academy. These six

wise Masters, according to my private Letters, are to have the following

Parts allotted them.

The first is to instruct the Students in State Legerdemain, as how to

take off the Impression of a Seal, to split a Wafer, to open a Letter,

to fold it up again, with other the like ingenious Feats of Dexterity

and Art. When the Students have accomplished themselves in this Part of

their Profession, they are to be delivered into the Hands of their

second Instructor, who is a kind of Posture-Master.

This Artist is to teach them how to nod judiciously, to shrug up their

Shoulders in a dubious Case, to connive with either Eye, and in a Word,

the whole Practice of Political Grimace.

The Third is a sort of Language-Master, who is to instruct them in the

Style proper for a Foreign Minister in his ordinary Discourse. And to

the End that this College of Statesmen may be thoroughly practised in

the Political Style, they are to make use of it in their common

Conversations, before they are employed either in Foreign or Domestick

Affairs. If one of them asks another, what a-clock it is, the other is

to answer him indirectly, and, if possible, to turn off the Question. If

he is desired to change a Louis d'or, he must beg Time to consider of

it. If it be enquired of him, whether the King is at Versailles or

Marly, he must answer in a Whisper. If he be asked the News of the late

Gazette, or the Subject of a Proclamation, he is to reply, that he has

not yet read it: Or if he does not care for explaining himself so far,

he needs only draw his Brow up in Wrinkles, or elevate the Left

Shoulder.

The Fourth Professor is to teach the whole Art of Political Characters

and Hieroglyphics; and to the End that they may be perfect also in this

Practice, they are not to send a Note to one another (tho it be but to

borrow a Tacitus or a Machiavil) which is not written in Cypher.