Book I. of his Epistles; showing how it would read in the customary

prose form of a letter of introduction.]

* * * * *

No. 494. Friday, September 26, 1712. Addison.

'Ægritudinem laudare, unam rem maximè detestabilem, quorum est tandem

Philosophorum?'

Cic.

About an Age ago it was the fashion in _England_, for every one that

would be thought religious, to throw as much Sanctity as possible into

his Face, and in particular to abstain from all Appearances of Mirth and

Pleasantry, which were looked upon as the Marks of a Carnal Mind. The

Saint was of a sorrowful Countenance, and generally eaten up with Spleen

and Melancholy. A Gentleman, who was lately a great Ornament to the

Learned World, [1] has diverted me more than once with an Account of the

Reception which he met with from a very famous Independent Minister, who

was Head of a College in those times. [2] This Gentleman was then a

young Adventurer in the Republick of Letters, and just fitted out for

the University with a good Cargo of _Latin_ and _Greek_. His Friends

were resolved that he should try his Fortune at an Election which was

drawing near in the College, of which the Independent Minister whom I

have before mentioned was Governor. The Youth, according to Custom,

waited on him in order to be examined. He was received at the Door by a

Servant, who was one of that gloomy Generation that were then in

fashion. He conducted him, with great Silence and Seriousness, to a long

Gallery which was darkned at Noon-day, and had only a single Candle

burning in it. After a short stay in this melancholy Apartment, he was

led into a Chamber hung with Black, where he entertained himself for

some time by the glimmering of a Taper, till at length the Head of the

College came out to him, from an inner Room, with half a Dozen Night

Caps upon his Head, and a religious Horror in his Countenance. The young

Man trembled; but his Fears encreased when, instead of being ask'd what

Progress he had made in Learning, he was examined how he abounded in

Grace. His _Latin_ and _Greek_ stood him in little stead; he was to give

an account only of the state of his Soul, whether he was of the Number

of the Elect; what was the Occasion of his Conversion; upon what Day of

the Month, and Hour of the Day it happened; how it was carried on, and

when compleated. The whole Examination was summed up with one short

Question, namely, _Whether he was prepared for Death?_ The Boy, who had

been bred up by honest Parents, was frighted out of his Wits at the

Solemnity of the Proceeding, and by the last dreadful Interrogatory; so

that upon making his Escape out of this House of Mourning, he could

never be brought a second time to the Examination, as not being able to

go through the Terrors of it.

Notwithstanding this general Form and Outside of Religion is pretty well

worn out among us, there are many Persons, who, by a natural

Unchearfulness of Heart, mistaken Notions of Piety, or Weakness of

Understanding, love to indulge this uncomfortable way of Life, and give

up themselves a Prey to Grief and Melancholy. Superstitious Fears and

groundless Scruples cut them off from the Pleasures of Conversation, and

all those social Entertainments, which are not only innocent, but

laudable; as if Mirth was made for Reprobates, and Chearfulness of Heart

denied those who are the only Persons that have a proper Title to it.

_Sombrius_ is one of these Sons of Sorrow. He thinks himself obliged in

Duty to be sad and disconsolate. He looks on a sudden fit of Laughter as

a Breach of his Baptismal Vow. An innocent Jest startles him like

Blasphemy. Tell him of one who is advanced to a Title of Honour, he

lifts up his Hands and Eyes; describe a publick Ceremony, he shakes his

Head; shew him a gay Equipage, he blesses himself. All the little

Ornaments of Life are Pomps and Vanities. Mirth is wanton, and Wit

profane. He is scandalized at Youth for being lively, and at Childhood

for being playful. He sits at a Christening, or a Marriage Feast, as at

a Funeral; sighs at the Conclusion of a merry Story, and grows devout

when the rest of the Company grow pleasant. After all, _Sombrius_ is a

religious Man, and would have behaved himself very properly, had he

lived when Christianity was under a general Persecution.

I would by no means presume to tax such Characters with Hypocrisy, as is

done too frequently; that being a Vice which I think none but He, who

knows the Secrets of Men's Hearts, should pretend to discover in

another, where the Proofs of it do not amount to a Demonstration. On the

contrary, as there are many excellent Persons, who are weighed down by

this habitual Sorrow of Heart, they rather deserve our Compassion than

our Reproaches. I think, however, they would do well to consider,

whether such a Behaviour does not deter Men from a Religious Life, by

representing it as an unsociable State, that extinguishes all Joy and

Gladness, darkens the Face of Nature, and destroys the Relish of Being

it self.

I have, in former Papers, shewn how great a Tendency there is to

Chearfulness in Religion, and how such a Frame of Mind is not only the

most lovely, but the most commendable in a virtuous Person. In short,

those who represent Religion in so unamiable a Light, are like the Spies

sent by _Moses_ to make a Discovery of the Land of _Promise_, when by

their Reports they discouraged the People from entering upon it. Those

who shew us the Joy, the Chearfulness, the Good-humour, that naturally

spring up in this happy State, are like the Spies bringing along with

them the Clusters of Grapes, and delicious Fruits, that might invite

their Companions into the pleasant Country which produced them.

An eminent Pagan Writer [3] has made a Discourse, to shew that the

Atheist, who denies a God, does him less Dishonour than the Man who owns

his Being, but at the same time believes him to be cruel, hard to

please, and terrible to Human Nature. For my own part, says he, I would

rather it should be said of me, that there was never any such Man as

_Plutarch_, than that _Plutarch_ was ill-natured, capricious, or inhuman.

If we may believe our Logicians, Man is distinguished from all other

Creatures by the Faculty of Laughter. He has an Heart capable of Mirth,

and naturally disposed to it. It is not the Business of Virtue to

extirpate the Affections of the Mind, but to regulate them. It may

moderate and restrain, but was not designed to banish Gladness from the

Heart of Man. Religion contracts the Circle of our Pleasures, but leaves

it wide enough for her Votaries to expatiate in. The Contemplation of

the Divine Being, and the Exercise of Virtue, are in their own Nature so

far from excluding all Gladness of Heart, that they are perpetual

Sources of it. In a word, the true Spirit of Religion cheers, as well as

composes the Soul; it banishes indeed all Levity of Behaviour, all

vicious and dissolute Mirth, but in exchange fills the Mind with a

perpetual Serenity, uninterrupted Chearfulness, and an habitual

Inclination to please others, as well as to be pleased in it self.

O.

[Footnote 1: Supposed to be Anthony Henley, a gentleman of property, who

corresponded with Swift, was a friend of Steele's, and contributed some

unidentified papers to the _Tatler_. He died in August, 1711.]

[Footnote 2: Dr. Thomas Goodwin, who was born in 1600, and educated at

Cambridge. He was one of those who, like Milton's tutor, Dr. Thomas

Young, went to Holland to escape from persecution, and was pastor of the

English church at Arnheim, till in the Civil Wars he came to London, and

sat at Westminster as one of the Assembly of Divines. In 1649 Cromwell

made him President of Magdalen College As Oliver Cromwell's chaplain, he

prayed with and for him in his last illness. At the Restoration, Dr.

Goodwin was deprived of his post at Oxford, and he then preached in

London to an Assembly of Independents till his death, in 1679. His works

were collected in five volumes folio.]

[Footnote 3: Plutarch, in his short Treatise 'On Superstition.']

* * * * *

No. 495. Saturday, September 27, 1712. Addison.

Duris ut ilex tonsa bipennibus

Nigræ feraci frondis in Algido,

Per damna, per cades, ab ipso

Ducit opes animumque ferro.

Hor.

As I am one, who, by my Profession, am obliged to look into all kinds of

Men, there are none whom I consider with so much Pleasure, as those who

have any thing new or extraordinary in their Characters, or Ways of

living. For this reason I have often amused my self with Speculations on

the Race of People called _Jews_, many of whom I have met with in most

of the considerable Towns which I have passed through in the Course of

my Travels. They are, indeed, so disseminated through all the trading

parts of the World, that they are become the Instruments by which the

most distant Nations converse with one another, and by which Mankind are

knit together in a general Correspondence: They are like the Pegs and

Nails in a great Building, which, though they are but little valued in

themselves, are absolutely necessary to keep the whole Frame together.

That I may not fall into any common beaten Tracks of Observation, I

shall consider this People in three Views: First, with regard to their

Number; Secondly, their Dispersion; and, Thirdly, their Adherence to

their Religion: and afterwards endeavour to shew, First, what Natural

Reasons, and, Secondly, what Providential Reasons may be assigned for

these three remarkable Particulars.

The _Jews_ are looked upon by many to be as numerous at present, as they

were formerly in the Land of _Canaan_.

This is wonderful, considering the dreadful Slaughter made of them under

some of the _Roman_ Emperors, which Historians describe by the Death of

many Hundred Thousands in a War; and the innumerable Massacres and

Persecutions they have undergone in _Turkey_, as well as in all

Christian Nations of the World. The _Rabbins_, to express the great

Havock which has been sometimes made of them, tell us, after their usual

manner of Hyperbole, that there were such Torrents of Holy Blood shed as

carried Rocks of an hundred Yards in Circumference above three Miles

into the Sea.

Their Dispersion is the second remarkable Particular in this People.

They swarm over all the _East_; and are settled in the remotest Parts of

_China_: They are spread through most of the Nations of _Europe_ and

_Africk_, and many Families of them are established in the

_West-Indies_: not to mention whole Nations bordering on

_Prester-John's_ Country, and some discovered in the inner Parts of

_America_, if we may give any Credit to their own Writers.

Their firm Adherence to their Religion, is no less remarkable than their

Numbers and Dispersion, especially considering it as persecuted or

contemned over the Face of the whole Earth. This is likewise the more

remarkable, if we consider the frequent Apostacies of this People, when

they lived under their Kings, in the Land of _Promise_, and within sight

of their Temple.

If in the next place we examine, what may be the Natural Reasons for

these three Particulars which we find in the _Jews_, and which are not

to be found in any other Religion or People, I can, in the first place,

attribute their Numbers to nothing but their constant Employment, their

Abstinence, their Exemption from Wars, and above all, their frequent

Marriages; for they look on Celibacy as an accursed State, and generally

are married before Twenty, as hoping the _Messiah_ may descend from them.

The Dispersion of the _Jews_ into all the Nations of the Earth, is the

second remarkable Particular of that People, though not so hard to be

accounted for. They were always in Rebellions and Tumults while they had

the Temple and Holy City in View, for which reason they have often been

driven out of their old Habitations in the Land of _Promise_. They have

as often been banished out of most other Places where they have settled,

which must very much disperse and scatter a People, and oblige them to

seek a Livelihood where they can find it. Besides, the whole People is

now a Race of such Merchants as are Wanderers by Profession, and at the

same time, are in most if not all Places incapable of either Lands or

Offices, that might engage them to make any Part of the World their

Home.

This Dispersion would probably have lost their Religion, had it not been

secured by the Strength of its Constitution: For they are to live all in

a Body, and generally within the same Enclosure; to marry among

themselves, and to eat no Meats that are not killed or prepared their

own way. This shuts them out from all Table Conversation, and the most

agreeable Intercourses of Life; and, by consequence, excludes them from

the most probable Means of Conversion.

If, in the last place, we consider what Providential Reason may be

assigned for these three Particulars, we shall find that their Numbers,

Dispersion, and Adherence to their Religion, have furnished every Age,

and every Nation of the World, with the strongest Arguments for the

Christian Faith, not only as these very Particulars are foretold of

them, but as they themselves are the Depositaries of these and all the

other Prophecies, which tend to their own Confusion. Their Number

furnishes us with a sufficient Cloud of Witnesses that attest the Truth

of the Old Bible. Their Dispersion spreads these Witnesses thro' all

parts of the World. The Adherence to their Religion makes their

Testimony unquestionable. Had the whole Body of the _Jews_ been

converted to Christianity, we should certainly have thought all the

Prophecies of the old Testament, that relate to the Coming and History

of our Blessed Saviour, forged by Christians, and have looked upon them,

with the Prophecies of the _Sybils_, as made many Years after the Events

they pretended to foretell.

O.

* * * * *

No. 496. Monday, September 29, 1712. Steele.

'Gnatum pariter uti his decuit aut etiam amplius,

Quod illa ætas magis ad hæc utenda idonea est.'

Terent. Heaut. A. 1. Sc. 1.

_Mr_. SPECTATOR,

'Those Ancients who were the most accurate in their Remarks on the

Genius and Temper of Mankind, by considering the various Bent and

Scope of our Actions throughout the Progress of Life, have with great

Exactness allotted Inclinations and Objects of Desire particular to

every Stage, according to the different Circumstances of our

Conversation and Fortune, thro' the several Periods of it. Hence they

were disposed easily to excuse those Excesses which might possibly

arise from a too eager Pursuit of the Affections more immediately

proper to each State: They indulged the Levity of Childhood with

Tenderness, overlooked the Gayety of Youth with Good-nature, tempered

the forward Ambition and Impatience of ripen'd Manhood with

Discretion, and kindly imputed the tenacious Avarice of old Men to

their want of relish for any other Enjoyment. Such Allowances as these

were no less advantageous to common Society than obliging to

particular Persons; for by maintaining a Decency and Regularity in the

Course of Life, they supported the Dignity of human Nature, which then

suffers the greatest Violence when the Order of things is inverted;

and in nothing is it more remarkably vilify'd and ridiculous, than

when Feebleness preposterously attempts to adorn it self with that

outward Pomp and Lustre, which serve only to set off the Bloom of

Youth with better advantage. I was insensibly carried into Reflections

of this nature, by just now meeting _Paulino_ (who is in his

Climacterick) bedeck'd with the utmost Splendour of Dress and

Equipage, and giving an unbounded Loose to all manner of Pleasure,

whilst his only Son is debarr'd all innocent Diversion, and may be

seen frequently solacing himself in the _Mall_ with no other

Attendance than one antiquated Servant of his Father's for a Companion

and Director.

'It is a monstrous want of Reflection, that a Man cannot consider,

that when he cannot resign the Pleasures of Life in his Decay of

Appetite and Inclination to them, his Son must have a much uneasier

Task to resist the Impetuosity of growing Desires. The Skill therefore

should, methinks, be to let a Son want no lawful Diversion, in

proportion to his future Fortune, and the Figure he is to make in the

World. The first Step towards Virtue that I have observed in young Men

of Condition that have run into Excesses, has been that they had a

regard to their Quality and Reputation in the Management of their

Vices. Narrowness in their Circumstances has made many Youths, to

supply themselves as Debauchees, commence Cheats and Rascals. The

Father who allows his Son to his utmost ability avoids this latter

Evil, which as to the World is much greater than the former. But the

contrary Practice has prevail'd so much among some Men, that I have

known them deny them what was merely necessary for Education suitable

to their Quality. Poor young _Antonio_ is a lamentable Instance of ill

Conduct in this kind. The young Man did not want natural Talents; but

the Father of him was a Coxcomb, who affected being a fine Gentleman

so unmercifully, that he could not endure in his sight, or the

frequent mention of one, who was his Son, growing into Manhood, and

thrusting him out of the gay World. I have often thought the Father

took a secret Pleasure in reflecting that when that fine House and

Seat came into the next hands, it would revive his Memory, as a Person

who knew how to enjoy them, from Observation of the Rusticity and

Ignorance of his Successor. Certain it is that a Man may, if he will,

let his Heart close to the having no regard to any thing but his dear

self, even with exclusion of his very Children. I recommend this

Subject to your Consideration, and am,

_SIR, Your most humble Servant_,

T. B.

_London, Sept._ 26, 1712.

_Mr._ SPECTATOR,

'I am just come from _Tunbridge_, and have since my return read Mrs.

_Matilda Mohair's_ Letter to you: She pretends to make a mighty Story

about the Diversion of Swinging in that Place. What was done, was only

among Relations; and no Man swung any Woman who was not second Cousin

at farthest. She is pleased to say, care was taken that the Gallants

tied the Ladies Legs before they were wafted into the Air. Since she

is so spiteful, I'll tell you the plain Truth; there was no such

Nicety observed, since we were all, as I just now told you, near

Relations; but Mrs. _Mohair_ her self has been swung there, and she

invents all this Malice, because it was observed she has crooked Legs,

of which I was an Eye-Witness.

_Your humble Servant_,

Rachel Shoestring.

_Tunbridge, Sept._ 26, 1712.

_Mr._ SPECTATOR,

'We have just now read your Paper, containing Mrs. _Mohair's_ Letter.

It is an Invention of her own from one end to the other; and I desire

you would print the enclosed Letter by it self, and shorten it so as

to come within the Compass of your Half-Sheet. She is the most

malicious Minx in the World, for all she looks so innocent. Don't

leave out that Part about her being in love with her Father's Butler,

which makes her shun Men; for that is the truest of it all.

_Your humble Servant_,

Sarah Trice.

P.S. 'She has crooked Legs.'

_Tunbridge, Sept._ 26, 1712.

_Mr._ SPECTATOR,

'All that Mrs. _Mohair_ is so vexed at against the good Company of

this Place, is, that we all know she has crooked Legs. This is

certainly true. I don't care for putting my Name, because one would

not be in the Power of the Creature.

_Your humble Servant unknown_.

_Tunbridge, Sept._ 26, 1712.

_Mr._ SPECTATOR,

'That insufferable Prude Mrs. _Mohair_, who has told such Stories of

the Company here, is with Child, for all her nice Airs and her crooked

Legs. Pray be sure to put her in for both those two Things, and you'll

oblige every Body here, especially

_Your humble Servant_,

Alice Bluegarter.'

T.

* * * * *

No. 497. Tuesday, September 30, 1712. Steele.

[Greek: Houtós esti galeôtaes gérôn.]--Menander.

A favour well bestow'd, is almost as great an Honour to him who confers

it, as to him who receives it. What indeed makes for the superior

Reputation of the Patron in this case, is, that he is always surrounded

with specious Pretences of unworthy Candidates, and is often alone in

the kind Inclination he has towards the Well-deserving. Justice is the

first Quality in the Man who is in a Post of Direction; and I remember

to have heard an old Gentleman talk of the Civil Wars, and in his

Relation give an Account of a General Officer, who with this one

Quality, without any shining Endowments, became so peculiarly beloved

and honoured, that all Decisions between Man and Man were laid before

him by the Parties concerned in a private Way; and they would lay by

their Animosities implicitly, if he bid them be Friends, or submit

themselves in the Wrong without Reluctance, if he said it, without

waiting the Judgment of Court-Martials. His Manner was to keep the Dates

of all Commissions in his Closet, and wholly dismiss from the Service

such who were deficient in their Duty; and after that, took Care to

prefer according to the Order of Battel. His Familiars were his entire

Friends, and could have no interested Views in courting his

Acquaintance; for his Affection was no Step to their Preferment, tho' it

was to their Reputation. By this means a kind Aspect, a Salutation, a

Smile, and giving out his Hand, had the weight of what is esteem'd by

vulgar Minds more substantial. His Business was very short, and he who

had nothing to do but Justice, was never affronted with a Request of a

familiar daily Visitant for what was due to a brave Man at a Distance.

Extraordinary Merit he used to recommend to the King for some

Distinction at home, till the Order of Battel made way for his rising in

the Troops. Add to this, that he had an excellent Manner of getting rid

of such whom he observed were good at _an Halt_, as his Phrase was.

Under this Description he comprehended all those who were contented to

live without Reproach, and had no Promptitude in their Minds towards

Glory. These Fellows were also recommended to the King, and taken off of

the General's hands into Posts wherein Diligence and common Honesty were

all that were necessary. This General had no weak Part in his Line; but

every Man had as much Care upon him, and as much Honour to lose as

himself. Every Officer could answer for what pass'd where he was, and

the General's Presence was never necessary any where, but where he had

placed himself at the first Disposition, except that Accident happen'd

from extraordinary Efforts of the Enemy which he could not foresee; but

it was remarkable that it never fell out from Failure in his own Troops.

It must be confess'd, the World is just so much out of order, as an

unworthy Person possesses what should be in the Direction of him who has

better Pretensions to it.

Instead of such a Conduct as this old Fellow us'd to describe in his

General, all the Evils which have ever happen'd among Mankind have arose

from the wanton Disposition of the Favours of the Powerful. It is

generally all that Men of Modesty and Virtue can do, to fall in with

some whimsical Turn in a Great Man, to make way for things of real and

absolute Service. In the time of Don _Sebastian_ of _Portugal_, or some

time since, the first Minister would let nothing come near him but what

bore the most profound Face of Wisdom and Gravity. They carry'd it so

far, that, for the greater Shew of their profound Knowledge, a Pair of

Spectacles tied on their Noses, with a black Ribband round their Heads,

was what compleated the Dress of those who made their court at his

Levee, and none with naked Noses were admitted to his Presence. A blunt

honest Fellow, who had a Command in the Train of Artillery, had

attempted to make an Impression upon the Porter day after day in vain,

till at length he made his appearance in a very thoughtful dark sute of

Clothes, and two Pair of Spectacles on at once. He was conducted from

Room to Room with great deference, to the Minister; and carrying on the

Farce of the Place, he told his Excellence, That he had pretended in

this manner to be wiser than he really was, but with no ill Intention;

but he was honest Such-a-one of the Train, and he came to tell him that

they wanted Wheel-barrows and Pick-axes. The thing happened not to

displease, the Great Man was seen to smile, and the successful Officer

was reconducted with the same profound Ceremony out of the House.

When _Leo X._ reigned Pope of _Rome_, his Holiness, tho' a Man of Sense,

and of an excellent Taste of Letters, of all things affected Fools,

Buffoons, Humourists, and Coxcombs: Whether it were from Vanity, and

that he enjoy'd no Talents in other Men but what were inferiour to him,

or whatever it was, he carried it so far, that his whole Delight was in

finding out new Fools, and, as our Phrase is, playing them off, and

making them shew themselves to advantage. A Priest of his former

Acquaintance suffered a great many Disappointments in attempting to find

access to him in a regular Character, till at last in despair he retired

from _Rome_, and returned in an Equipage so very fantastical, both as to

the Dress of himself and Servants, that the whole Court were in an

Emulation who should first introduce him to his Holiness. [1] What added

to the Expectation his Holiness had of the Pleasure he should have in

his Follies, was, that this Fellow, in a Dress the most exquisitely

ridiculous, desired he might speak to him alone, for he had Matters of

the highest Importance, upon which he wanted a Conference. Nothing could

be denied to a Coxcomb of so great hope; but when they were apart, the

Impostor revealed himself, and spoke as follows:

Do not be surprized, most holy Father, at seeing, instead of a Coxcomb

to laugh at, your old Friend who has taken this way of Access to

admonish you of your own Folly. Can any thing shew your Holiness how

unworthily you treat Mankind, more than my being put upon this

Difficulty to speak with you? It is a degree of Folly to delight to

see it in others, and it is the greatest Insolence imaginable to

rejoice in the Disgrace of human Nature. It is a criminal Humility in

a Person of your Holiness's Understanding, to believe you cannot excel

but in the Conversation of Half-wits, Humorists, Coxcombs, and

Buffoons. If your Holiness has a mind to be diverted like a rational

Man, you have a great opportunity for it, in disrobing all the

Impertinents you have favour'd, of all their Riches and Trappings at

once, and bestowing them on the Humble, the Virtuous, and the Meek. If

your Holiness is not concerned for the sake of Virtue and Religion, be

pleased to reflect, that for the sake of your own Safety it is not

proper to be so very much in jest. When the Pope is thus merry, the

People will in time begin to think many things, which they have

hitherto beheld with great Veneration, are in themselves Objects of

Scorn and Derision. If they once get a Trick of knowing how to laugh,

your Holiness's saying this Sentence in one Night-Cap and t'other with

the other, the change of your Slippers, bringing you your Staff in the

midst of a Prayer, then stripping you of one Vest and clapping on a

second during divine Service, will be found out to have nothing in it.

Consider, Sir, that at this rate a Head will be reckoned never the

wiser for being Bald; and the ignorant will be apt to say, that going

bare-foot does not at all help on in the way to Heaven. The red Cap

and the Coul will fall under the same Contempt; and the Vulgar will

tell us to our Faces that we shall have no Authority over them, but

from the Force of our Arguments, and the Sanctity of our Lives.

T

[Footnote 1: Founded on Note F to Bayle's account of Leo X.]

* * * * *

No. 498. Wednesday, October 1, 1712. Steele.

'--Frustra retinacula tendens

Fertur equis Auriga, neque audit currus habenas.'

_To the SPECTATOR-GENERAL of_ Great Britain.

_From the farther end of the Widow's Coffee-house in_ Devereaux Court,

_Monday Evening, twenty eight Minutes and a Half past Six._

_Dear Dumb_,

'In short, to use no further Preface, if I should tell you that I have

seen a Hackney-Coachman, when he has come to set down his Fare, which

has consisted of two or three very fine Ladies, hand them out, and

salute every one of them with an Air of Familiarity, without giving

the least Offence, you would perhaps think me guilty of a Gasconade.

But to clear my self from that Imputation, and to explain this Matter

to you, I assure you that there are many Illustrious Youths within

this City, who frequently recreate themselves by driving of a

Hackney-Coach: But those whom, above all others, I would recommend to

you, are the young Gentlemen belonging to our Inns of Court. We have,

I think, about a dozen Coachmen, who have Chambers here in the

_Temple_; and as it is reasonable to believe others will follow their

Example, we may perhaps in time (if it shall be thought convenient) be

drove to _Westminster_ by our own Fraternity, allowing every fifth

Person to apply his Meditations in this way, which is but a modest

Computation, as the Humour is now likely to take. It is to be hop'd

likewise, that there are in the other Nurseries of the Law to be found

a proportionable number of these hopeful Plants, springing up to the

everlasting Renown of their native Country. Of how long standing this

Humour has been, I know not; the first time I had any particular

Reason to take notice of it, was about this time twelvemonth, when

being upon _Hampstead-Heath_ with some of these studious young Men,

who went thither purely for the Sake of Contemplation, nothing would

serve them but I must go thro' a Course of this Philosophy too; and

being ever willing to embelish my self with any commendable

Qualification, it was not long e'er they persuaded me into the

Coach-box; nor indeed much longer, before I underwent the Fate of my

Brother _Phaeton_, for having drove about fifty Paces with pretty good

Success, through my own natural Sagacity, together with the good

Instructions of my Tutors, who, to give them their due, were on all

Hands encouraging and assisting me in this laudable Undertaking; I

say, Sir, having drove about fifty Paces with pretty good Success, I

must needs be exercising the Lash, which the Horses resented so ill

from my Hands, that they gave a sudden Start, and thereby pitched me

directly upon my Head, as I very well remembered about Half an Hour

afterwards, which not only deprived me of all the Knowledge I had

gain'd for fifty Yards before, but had like to have broken my Neck

into the Bargain. After such a severe Reprimand, you may imagine I was

not very easily prevail'd with to make a second Attempt; and indeed,

upon mature Deliberation, the whole Science seem'd, at least to me, to

be surrounded with so many Difficulties, that notwithstanding the

unknown Advantages which might have accrued to me thereby, I gave over

all Hopes of attaining it; and I believe had never thought of it more,

but that my Memory has been lately refreshed by seeing some of these

ingenious Gentlemen ply in the open Streets, one of which I saw

receive so suitable a Reward of his Labours, that tho' I know you are

no Friend to Story-telling, yet I must beg leave to trouble you with

this at large.

'About a fortnight since, as I was diverting my self with a pennyworth

of Walnuts at the _Temple_-Gate, a lively young Fellow in a Fustian

Jacket shot by me, beckon'd a Coach, and told the Coachman he wanted

to go as far as _Chelsey_: They agreed upon the Price, and this young

Gentleman mounts the Coach-box; the Fellow staring at him, desir'd to

know if he should not drive till they were out of Town? No, no,

replied he: He was then going to climb up to him, but received another

Check, and was then ordered to get into the Coach, or behind it, for

that he wanted no Instructors; but be sure you Dog you, says he, don't

you bilk me. The Fellow thereupon surrender'd his Whip, scratch'd his

Head, and crept into the Coach. Having my self occasion to go into the

_Strand_ about the same Time, we started both together; but the Street

being very full of Coaches, and he not so able a Coachman as perhaps

he imagined himself, I had soon got a little Way before him; often,

however, having the curiosity to cast my Eye back upon him, to observe

how he behaved himself in this high Station; which he did with great

Composure till he came to the Pass, which is a Military Term the

Brothers of the Whip have given the Strait at St. _Clement's_ Church:

when he was arrived near this Place, where are always Coaches in

waiting, the Coachmen began to suck up the Muscles of their Cheeks,

and to tip the Wink upon each other, as if they had some Roguery in

their Heads, which I was immediately convinced of; for he no sooner

came within Reach, but the first of them with his Whip took the exact

Dimension of his Shoulders, which he very ingeniously call'd

Endorsing; and indeed I must say, that every one of them took due Care

to endorse him as he came thro' their Hands. He seem'd at first a

little uneasy under the Operation, and was going in all haste to take

the Numbers of their Coaches; but at length by the Mediation of the

worthy Gentleman in the Coach, his Wrath was asswaged, and he

prevail'd upon to pursue his Journey; tho' indeed I thought they had

clapt such a Spoke in his Wheel, as had disabled him from being a

Coachman for that Day at least: For I am only mistaken, Mr. SPEC. if

some of these Endorsements were not wrote in so strong a Hand, that

they are still legible. Upon my enquiring the Reason of this unusual

Salutation, they told me, that it was a Custom among them, whenever

they saw a Brother tottering or unstable in his Post, to lend him a

hand in order to settle him again therein: For my part I thought their

Allegations but reasonable, and so march'd off. Besides our Coachmen,

we abound in divers other Sorts of ingenious robust Youth, who, I

hope, will not take it ill if I refer giving you an account of their

several Recreations to another Opportunity. In the mean time, if you

would but bestow a little of your wholesome Advice upon our Coachmen,

it might perhaps be a Reprieve to some of their Necks. As I understand

you have several Inspectors under you, if you would but send one

amongst us here in the _Temple_, I am persuaded he would not want

Employment. But I leave this to your own Consideration, and am,

'_SIR, Your very humble Servant_,

'Moses Greenbag.

'P. S. I have heard our Criticks in the Coffee-houses hereabout talk

mightily of the Unity of Time and Place: According to my Notion of the

Matter, I have endeavoured at something like it in the Beginning of my

Epistle. I desire to be inform'd a little as to that Particular. In my

next I design to give you some account of excellent Watermen, who are

bred to the Law, and far outdo the Land-Students above-mentioned.'

T.

* * * * *

No. 499. Thursday, October 2, 1712. Addison.

'--Nimis uncis

Naribus indulges--'

Pers.

My Friend WILL. HONEYCOMB has told me, for above this half Year, that he

had a great mind to try his Hand at a _Spectator_, and that he would

fain have one of his writing in my Works. This Morning I received from

him the following Letter, which, after having rectified some little

Orthographical Mistakes, I shall make a Present of to the Publick.

_Dear_ SPEC.

'I was, about two Nights ago, in Company with very agreeable young

People of both Sexes, where talking of some of your Papers which are

written on Conjugal Love, there arose a Dispute among us, whether

there were not more bad Husbands in the World than bad Wives. A

Gentleman, who was Advocate for the Ladies, took this occasion to tell

us the story of a famous Siege in _Germany_, which I have since found

related in my Historical Dictionary, after the following manner. When

the Emperor _Conrade_ the Third had besieged _Guelphus_, Duke of

_Bavaria_, in the City of _Hensberg_, the Women finding that the Town

could not possibly hold out long, petitioned the Emperor that they

might depart out of it, with so much as each of them could carry. The

Emperor knowing they could not convey away many of their Effects,

granted them their Petition; When the Women, to his great Surprize,

came out of the Place with every one her Husband upon her back. The

Emperor was so moved at the sight, that he burst into Tears, and after

having very much extolled the Women for their conjugal Affection, gave

the Men to their Wives, and received the Duke into his Favour.

'The Ladies did not a little triumph at this Story, asking us at the

same time, whether in our Consciences we believed that the Men of any

Town in _Great Britain_ would, upon the same Offer, and at the same

Conjuncture, have loaden themselves with their Wives; or rather,

whether they would not have been glad of such an opportunity to get

rid of them? To this my very good Friend _Tom Dapperwit_, who took

upon him to be the Mouth of our Sex, replied, that they would be very

much to blame if they would not do the same good Office for the Women,

considering that their Strength would be greater, and their Burdens

lighter. As we were amusing our selves with Discourses of this nature,

in order to pass away the Evening, which now begins to grow tedious,

we fell into that laudable and primitive Diversion of Questions and

Commands. I was no sooner vested with the regal Authority, but I

enjoined all the Ladies, under pain of my Displeasure, to tell the

Company ingenuously, in case they had been in the Siege

abovementioned, and had the same Offers made them as the good Women of

that Place, what every one of them would have brought off with her,

and have thought most worth the saving? There were several merry

Answers made to my Question, which entertained us till Bed-time. This

filled my Mind with such a huddle of Ideas, that upon my going to

sleep, I fell into the following Dream.

'I saw a Town of this Island, which shall be nameless, invested on

every side, and the Inhabitants of it so straitned as to cry for

Quarter. The General refused any other Terms than those granted to the

abovementioned Town of _Hensberg_, namely, that the married Women

might come out with what they could bring along with them. Immediately

the City-Gates flew open, and a Female Procession appeared. Multitudes

of the Sex following one another in a row, and staggering under their

respective Burdens. I took my Stand upon an Eminence in the Enemies

Camp, which was appointed for the general Rendezvous of these Female

Carriers, being very desirous to look into their several Ladings. The

first of them had a huge Sack upon her Shoulders, which she set down

with great Care: Upon the opening of it, when I expected to have seen

her Husband shot out of it, I found it was filled with China-Ware. The

next appeared in a more decent Figure, carrying a handsome young

Fellow upon her Back: I could not forbear commending the young Woman

for her Conjugal Affection, when to my great Surprize, I found that

she had left the good Man at home, and brought away her Gallant. I saw

the third, at some distance, with a little withered Face peeping over

her Shoulder, whom I could not suspect for any but her Spouse, till

upon her setting him down I heard her call him dear Pugg, and found

him to be her Favourite Monkey. A fourth brought a huge Bale of Cards

along with her; and the fifth a _Bolonia_ Lap-Dog; for her Husband, it

seems, being a very Burly Man, she thought it would be less trouble

for her to bring away little _Cupid_. The next was the Wife of a rich

Usurer, loaden with a Bag of Gold; she told us that her Spouse was

very old, and by the course of Nature could not expect to live long;

and that to shew her tender regards for him, she had saved that which

the poor Man loved better than his Life. The next came towards us with

her Son upon her Back, who, we were told, was the greatest Rake in the

Place, but so much the Mother's Darling, that she left her Husband

behind with a large Family of hopeful Sons and Daughters, for the sake

of this Graceless Youth.

'It would be endless to mention the several Persons, with their

several Loads that appeared to me in this strange Vision. All the

Place about me was covered with packs of Ribbands, Brocades,

Embroidery, and Ten thousand other Materials, sufficient to have

furnished a whole Street of Toy-shops. One of the Women, having an

Husband who was none of the heaviest, was bringing him off upon her

Shoulders, at the same time that she carried a great bundle of

_Flanders-lace_ under her Arm; but finding herself so overloaden, that

she could not save both of them, she dropp'd the good Man, and brought

away the Bundle. In short, I found but one Husband among this great

Mountain of Baggage, who was a lively Cobler, that kick'd and spurr'd

all the while his Wife was carrying him on, and, as it was said, had

scarce passed a Day in his Life without giving her the Discipline of

the Strap.

'I cannot conclude my Letter, Dear SPEC., without telling thee one

very odd Whim in this my Dream, I saw, methoughts, a dozen Women

employed in bringing off one Man; I could not guess who it should be,

till upon his nearer approach I discover'd thy short Phiz. The Women

all declared that it was for the sake of thy Works, and not thy

Person, that they brought thee off, and that it was on condition that

thou should'st continue the _Spectator_. If thou thinkest this Dream

will make a tolerable one, it is at thy Service, from,

'_Dear_ SPEC.

'_Thine, Sleeping and Waking_,

'WILL. HONEYCOMB.'

The Ladies will see, by this Letter, what I have often told them, that

WILL. is one of those old-fashioned Men of Wit and Pleasure of the Town,

that shews his Parts by Raillery on Marriage, and one who has often

tried his Fortune that way without Success. I cannot however dismiss his

Letter, without observing, that the true Story on which it is built does

Honour to the Sex, and that in order to abuse them, the Writer is

obliged to have recourse to Dream and Fiction. [1]

[Footnote 1: At the end of this number and in all following numbers

there is a change in the colophon, caused by the addition of Tonson's

name to Buckley's. It runs henceforth thus:

LONDON: Printed for S. Buckley and J. Tonson: And Sold by A. Baldwin

in Warwick-Lane. But an announcement at the head of the advertisement

sets forth that Advertisements for this Paper continue to be taken in

by S. Buckley at the Dolphin in Little-Britain, J. Tonson at

Shakespear's Head in the Strand, C. Lillie at the Corner of Beauford

Buildings, and A. Baldwin in Warwick-Lane.]

* * * * *

No. 500. Friday, October 3, 1712. Addison.

'--Huc natas adjice septem,

Et totidem juvenes, et mox generosque nurusque.

Quærite nunc, habeat quam nostra superbia causam.'

Ov. Met.

_SIR_,

'You who are so well acquainted with the Story of _Socrates_, must

have read how, upon his making a Discourse concerning Love, he pressed

his Point with so much Success, that all the Batchelors in his

Audience took a Resolution to Marry by the first Opportunity, and that

all the married Men immediately took Horse and galloped home to their

Wives. I am apt to think your Discourses, in which you have drawn so

many agreeable Pictures of Marriage, have had a very good Effect this

way in _England_. We are obliged to you, at least for having taken off

that Senseless Ridicule, which for many Years the Witlings of the Town

have turned upon their Fathers and Mothers. For my own part, I was

born in Wedlock, and I don't care who knows it; For which Reason,

among many others, I should look upon my self as a most insufferable

Coxcomb, did I endeavour to maintain that Cuckoldom was inseparable

from Marriage, or to make use of _Husband_ and _Wife_ as Terms of

Reproach. Nay, Sir, I will go one step further, and declare to you

before the whole World, that I am a married Man, and at the same time

I have so much Assurance as not to be ashamed of what I have done.

'Among the several Pleasures that accompany this state of Life, and

which you have described in your former Papers, there are two you have

not taken Notice of, and which are seldom cast into the Account, by

those who write on this Subject. You must have observed, in your

Speculations on Human Nature, that nothing is more gratifying to the

Mind of Man than Power or Dominion; and this I think my self amply

possessed of, as I am the Father of a Family. I am perpetually taken

up in giving out Orders, in prescribing Duties, in hearing Parties, in

administring Justice, and in distributing Rewards and Punishments. To

speak in the Language of the Centurion, _I say unto one, Go, and he

goeth; and to another, Come, and he cometh; and to my Servant, Do

This, and he doth it_. In short, Sir, I look upon my Family as a

Patriarchal Sovereignty, in which I am my self both King and Priest.

All great Governments are nothing else but Clusters of these little

private Royalties, and therefore I consider the Masters of Families as

small Deputy-Governors presiding over the several little Parcels and

Divisions of their Fellow Subjects. As I take great pleasure in the

Administration of my Government in particular, so I look upon my self

not only as a more useful, but as a much greater and happier Man than

any Batchelor in _England_ of [my [1]] Rank and Condition.

'There is another accidental Advantage in Marriage, which has likewise

fallen to my share, I mean the having a Multitude of Children. These I

cannot but regard as very great Blessings. When I see my little Troop

before me, I rejoice in the Additions which I have made to my Species,

to my Country, and to my Religion, in having produced such a Number of

reasonable Creatures, Citizens, and Christians. I am pleased to see my

self thus perpetuated; and as there is no Production comparable to

that of a human Creature, I am more proud of having been the Occasion

of ten such glorious Productions, than if I had built a hundred

Pyramids at my own Expence, or published as many Volumes of the finest

Wit and Learning. In what a beautiful Light has the Holy Scripture

represented _Abdon_, one of the Judges of _Israel_, who had forty Sons

and thirty Grandsons, that rode on Threescore and Ten Ass-Colts,

according to the Magnificence of the Eastern Countries? How must the

Heart of the old Man rejoice, when he saw such a beautiful Procession

of his own Descendants, such a numerous Cavalcade of his own raising?

For my own part, I can sit in my Parlour with great content, when I

take a review of half a dozen of my little Boys mounting upon

Hobby-Horses, and of as many little Girls tutoring their Babies, each

of them endeavouring to excel the rest, and to do something that may

gain my Favour and Approbation. I cannot question but he who has

blessed me with so many Children, will assist my Endeavours in

providing for them. There is one thing I am able to give each of them,

which is a virtuous Education. I think it is Sir _Francis Bacon's_

Observation, that in a numerous Family of Children the eldest is often

spoiled by the Prospect of an Estate, and the youngest by being the

Darling of the Parent; but that some one or other in the middle, who

has not perhaps been regarded, has made his way in the World, and

over-topped the rest. It is my Business to implant in every one of my

Children the same Seeds of Industry, and the same honest Principles.

By this Means I think I have a fair Chance, that one or other of them

may grow considerable in some or other way of Life, whether it be in

the Army, or in the Fleet, in Trade, or any of the three learned

Professions; for you must know, Sir, that from long Experience and

Observation, I am persuaded of what seems a Paradox to most of those

with whom I converse, namely, That a Man who has many Children, and

gives them a good Education, is more likely to raise a Family, than he

who has but one, notwithstanding he leaves him his whole Estate. For

this reason I cannot forbear amusing my self with finding out a

General, an Admiral, or an Alderman of _London_, a Divine, a

Physician, or a Lawyer, among my little People who are now perhaps in

Petticoats; and when I see the Motherly Airs of my little Daughters

when they are playing with their Puppets, I cannot but flatter my self

that their Husbands and Children will be happy in the Possession of

such Wives and Mothers.

'If you are a Father, you will not perhaps think this Letter

impertinent: but if you are a single Man, you will not know the

Meaning of it, and probably throw it into the Fire: Whatever you

determine of it, you may assure yourself that it comes from one who is

'_Your most humble Servant, and Well-wisher_,

'Philogamus.'

O.

[Footnote 1: [my own]]

* * * * *

No. 501. Saturday, October 4, 1712. Parnell.

'Durum: sed levius sit patientiâ

Quicquid corrigere est nefas.'

Hor.

As some of the finest Compositions among the Ancients are in Allegory, I

have endeavoured, in several of my Papers, to revive that way of

Writing, and hope I have not been altogether unsuccessful in it; for I

find there is always a great Demand for those particular Papers, and

cannot but observe that several Authors have endeavoured of late to

excel in Works of this Nature. Among these, I do not know any one who

has succeeded better than a very ingenious Gentleman, to whom I am much

obliged for the following Piece, and who was the Author of the Vision in

the CCCCLXth Paper. [O.]

How are we tortured with the Absence of what we covet to possess, when

it appears to be lost to us! What Excursions does the Soul make in

Imagination after it! And how does it turn into it self again, more

foolishly fond and dejected, at the Disappointment? Our Grief, instead

of having recourse to Reason, which might restrain it, searches to find

a further Nourishment. It calls upon Memory to relate the several

Passages and Circumstances of Satisfactions which we formerly enjoyed:

the Pleasures we purchased by those Riches that are taken from us; or

the Power and Splendour of our departed Honours; or the Voice, the

Words, the Looks, the Temper, and Affections of our Friends that are

deceased. It needs must happen from hence that the Passion should often

swell to such a Size as to burst the Heart which contains it, if Time

did not make these Circumstances less strong and lively, so that Reason

should become a more equal Match for the Passion, or if another Desire

which becomes more present did not overpower them with a livelier

Representation. These are Thoughts which I had, when I fell into a kind

of Vision upon this Subject, and may therefore stand for a proper

Introduction to a Relation of it.

I found my self upon a naked Shore, with Company whose afflicted

Countenances witnessed their Conditions. Before us flowed a Water deep,

silent, and called the River of _Tears_, which issuing from two

Fountains on an upper Ground, encompassed an Island that lay before us.

The Boat which plied in it was old and shattered, having been sometimes

overset by the Impatience and Haste of single Passengers to arrive at

the other side. This immediately was brought to us by _Misfortune_ who

steers it, and we were all preparing to take our places, when there

appeared a Woman of a mild and composed Behaviour, who began to deter us

from it, by representing the Dangers which would attend our Voyage.

Hereupon some who knew her for _Patience_, and some of those too who

till then cry'd the loudest, were persuaded by her, and returned back.

The rest of us went in, and she (whose Good-nature would not suffer her

to forsake Persons in Trouble) desired leave to accompany us, that she

might at least administer some small Comfort or Advice while we sailed.

We were no sooner embarked but the Boat was push'd off, the Sheet was

spread; and being filled with _Sighs_, which are the Winds of that

Country, we made a passage to the farther Bank, through several

Difficulties of which the most of us seemed utterly regardless.

When we landed, we perceived the Island to be strangely overcast with

Fogs, which no Brightness could pierce, so that a kind of gloomy Horror

sat always brooding over it. This had something in it very shocking to

easy Tempers, insomuch that some others, whom _Patience_ had by this

time gained over, left us here, and privily convey'd themselves round

the Verge of the Island to find a Ford by which she told them they might

escape.

For my part, I still went along with those who were for piercing into

the Centre of the Place; and joining our selves to others whom we found

upon the same Journey, we marched solemnly as at a Funeral, through

bordering Hedges of Rosemary, and through a Grove of Yew-trees, which

love to overshadow Tombs and flourish in Church-yards. Here we heard on

every side the Wailings and Complaints of several of the Inhabitants,

who had cast themselves disconsolately at the Feet of Trees; and as we

chanced to approach any of these, we might perceive them wringing their

Hands, beating their Breasts, tearing their Hair, or after some other

manner visibly agitated with Vexation. Our Sorrows were heightened by

the Influence of what we heard and saw, and one of our Number was

wrought up to such a Pitch of Wildness, as to talk of hanging himself

upon a Bough which shot temptingly across the Path we travelled in; but

he was restrained from it by the kind Endeavours of our above-mentioned

Companion.

We had now gotten into the most dusky silent part of the Island, and by

the redoubled Sounds of Sighs, which made a doleful Whistling in the

Branches, the thickness of Air which occasioned faintish Respiration,

and the violent Throbbings of Heart which more and more affected us, we

found that we approached the _Grotto of Grief_. It was a wide, hollow,

and melancholy Cave, sunk deep in a Dale, and watered by Rivulets that

had a Colour between Red and Black. These crept slow and half congealed

amongst its Windings, and mixed their heavy Murmur with the Echo of

Groans that rolled through all the Passages. In the most retired Part of

it sat the _Doleful Being_ her self; the Path to her was strowed with

Goads, Stings and Thorns; and her Throne on which she sat was broken

into a Rock, with ragged Pieces pointing upwards for her to lean upon. A

heavy Mist hung above her, her Head oppressed with it reclined upon her

Arm: Thus did she reign over her disconsolate Subjects, full of her self

to stupidity, in eternal Pensiveness, and the profoundest Silence. On

one side of her stood _Dejection_ just dropping into a Swoon, and

_Paleness_ wasting to a Skeleton; on the other side were _Care_ inwardly

tormented with Imaginations, and _Anguish_ suffering outward _Troubles_

to suck the Blood from her Heart in the shape of _Vultures_. The whole

Vault had a genuine Dismalness in it, which a few scattered Lamps, whose

bluish Flames arose and sunk in their Urns, discovered to our Eyes with

Encrease. Some of us fell down, overcome and spent with what they

suffered in the way, and were given over to those Tormentors that stood

on either hand of the Presence; others, galled and mortified with Pain,

recover'd the Entrance, where _Patience_, whom we had left behind, was

still waiting to receive us.

With her (whose Company was now become more grateful to us by the want

we had found of her) we winded round the Grotto, and ascended at the

back of it, out of the mournful Dale in whose Bottom it lay. On this

Eminence we halted, by her Advice, to pant for Breath; and lifting our

Eyes, which till then were fixed downwards, felt a sullen sort of

Satisfaction, in observing through the Shades what Numbers had entred

the Island. The Satisfaction, which appears to have Ill-nature in it,

was excusable, because it happened at a time when we were too much taken

up with our own concern, to have respect to that of others; and

therefore we did not consider them as suffering, but ourselves as not

suffering in the most forlorn Estate. It had also the Ground-work of

Humanity and Compassion in it, tho' the Mind was then too dark and too

deeply engaged to perceive it; but as we proceeded onwards, it began to

discover it self, and from observing that others were unhappy, we came

to question one another, when it was that we met, and what were the sad

Occasions that brought us together. Then we heard our Stories, we

compared them, we mutually gave and received Pity, and so by degrees

became tolerable Company.

A considerable part of the troublesome Road was thus deceived; at length

the Openings among the Trees grew larger, the Air seemed thinner, it lay

with less oppression upon us, and we could now and then discern tracks

in it of a lighter Greyness, like the Breakings of Day, short in

duration, much enlivening, and called in that Country _Gleams of

Amusement_. Within a short while these Gleams began to appear more

frequent, and then brighter and of a longer continuance; the _Sighs_

that hitherto filled the Air with so much Dolefulness, altered to the

Sound of common Breezes, and in general the Horrors of the Island were

abated.

When we had arrived at last at the Ford by which we were to pass out, we

met with those fashionable Mourners who had been ferried over along with

us, and who being unwilling to go as far as we, had coasted by the Shore

to find the place, where they waited our coming; that by shewing

themselves to the World only at the time when we did, they might seem

also to have been among the Troubles of the Grotto. Here the Waters that

rolled on the other side so deep and silent, were much dried up, and it

was an easier matter for us to wade over.

The River being crossed, we were received upon the further Bank by our

Friends and Acquaintance, whom _Comfort_ had brought out to congratulate

our Appearance in the World again. Some of these blamed us for staying

so long away from them, others advised us against all Temptations of

going back again; every one was cautious not to renew our Trouble, by

asking any particulars of the Journey; and all concluded, that in a case

of so much Melancholy and Affliction, we could not have made choice of a

fitter Companion than _Patience_. Here _Patience_, appearing serene at

her Praises, delivered us over to _Comfort_. _Comfort_ smiled at his

receiving the Charge; immediately the Sky purpled on that side to which

he turned, and double Day at once broke in upon me.

* * * * *

No. 502. Monday, October 6, 1712. Steele.

'Melius, pejus, prosit, obsit, nil vident nisi quod lubent.'

Ter.

When Men read, they taste the Matter with which they are entertained,

according as their own respective Studies and Inclinations have prepared

them, and make their Reflections accordingly. Some perusing _Roman_

Writers, would find in them, whatever the Subject of the Discourses

were, parts which implied the Grandeur of that People in their Warfare

or their Politicks. As for my part, who am a meer SPECTATOR, I drew this

Morning Conclusions of their Eminence in what I think great, to wit, in

having worthy Sentiments, from the reading a Comedy of _Terence_. The

Play was the _Self-Tormentor_. It is from the Beginning to the End a

perfect Picture of human Life, but I did not observe in the whole one

Passage that could raise a Laugh. How well disposed must that People be,

who could be entertained with Satisfaction by so sober and polite Mirth?

In the first Scene of the Comedy, when one of the old Men accuses the

other of Impertinence for interposing in his Affairs, he answers, _I am

a Man, and cannot help feeling any Sorrow that can arrive at Man_. It is

said, this Sentence was received with an universal Applause. There

cannot be a greater Argument of the general good Understanding of a

People, than a sudden Consent to give their Approbation of a Sentiment

which has no Emotion in it. If it were spoken with never so great Skill

in the Actor, the Manner of uttering that Sentence could have nothing in

it which could strike any but People of the greatest Humanity, nay

People elegant and skilful in Observations upon it. It is possible he

might have laid his Hand on his Breast, and with a winning Insinuation

in his Countenance, expressed to his Neighbour that he was a Man who

made his case his own; yet I'll engage a Player in _Covent-Garden_ might

hit such an Attitude a thousand times before he would have been

regarded. I have heard that a Minister of State in the Reign of Queen

_Elizabeth_ had all manner of Books and Ballads brought to him, of what

kind soever, and took great Notice how much they took with the People;

upon which he would, and certainly might, very well judge of their

present Dispositions, and the most proper way of applying them according

to his own purposes. [1] What passes on the Stage, and the Reception it

meets with from the Audience, is a very useful Instruction of this Kind.

According to what you may observe there on our Stage, you see them often

moved so directly against all common Sense and Humanity, that you would

be apt to pronounce us a Nation of Savages. It cannot be called a

Mistake of what is pleasant, but the very contrary to it is what most

assuredly takes with them. The other Night an old Woman carried off with

a Pain in her Side, with all the Distortions and Anguish of Countenance

which is natural to one in that Condition, was laughed and clapped off

the Stage. _Terence's_ Comedy, which I am speaking of, is indeed written

as if he hoped to please none but such as had as good a Taste as

himself. I could not but reflect upon the natural Description of the

innocent young Woman made by the Servant to his Master. _When I came to

the House_, said he, _an old Woman opened the Door, and I followed her

in, because I could by entring upon them unawares better observe what

was your Mistress's ordinary manner of spending her Time, the only way

of judging any one's Inclinations and Genius. I found her at her Needle

in a sort of second Mourning, which she wore for an Aunt she had lately

lost. She had nothing on but what shewed she dressed only for herself.

Her Hair hung negligently about her Shoulders. She had none of the Arts

with which others use to set themselves off, but had that Negligence of

Person which is remarkable in those who are careful of their Minds--Then

she had a Maid who was at work near her, that was a Slattern, because

her Mistress was careless; which I take to be another Argument of your

security in her; for the_ Go-betweens _of Women of Intrigue are rewarded

too well to be dirty. When you were named, I told her you desired to see

her, she threw down her Work for Joy, covered her Face, and decently hid

her Tears_ [2]--He must be a very good Actor, and draw Attention rather

from his own Character than the Words of the Author, that could gain it

among us for this Speech, though so full of Nature and good Sense.

The intolerable Folly and Confidence of Players putting in Words of

their own, does in a great measure feed the absurd Taste of the

Audience. But however that is, it is ordinary for a Cluster of Coxcombs

to take up the House to themselves, and equally insult both the Actors

and the Company. These Savages, who want all manner of Regard and

Deference to the rest of Mankind, come only to shew themselves to us,

without any other Purpose than to let us know they despise us.

The gross of an Audience is composed of two sorts of People, those who

know no Pleasure but of the Body, and those who improve or command

corporeal Pleasures by the addition of fine Sentiments of the Mind. At

present the intelligent part of the Company are wholly subdued, by the

Insurrections of those who know no Satisfactions but what they have in

common with all other Animals.

This is the reason that when a Scene tending to Procreation is acted,

you see the whole Pit in such a Chuckle, and old Letchers, with Mouths

open, stare at the loose Gesticulations on the Stage with shameful

Earnestness; when the justest Pictures of human Life in its calm

Dignity, and the properest Sentiments for the Conduct of it, pass by

like meer Narration, as conducing only to somewhat much better which is

to come after. I have seen the whole House at some times in so proper a

Disposition, that indeed I have trembled for the Boxes, and feared the

Entertainment would end in the Representation of the Rape of the

_Sabines_.

I would not be understood in this Talk to argue, that nothing is

tolerable on the Stage but what has an immediate Tendency to the

Promotion of Virtue. On the contrary, I can allow, provided there is

nothing against the Interests of Virtue, and is not offensive to

Good-manners, that things of an indifferent nature may be represented.

For this Reason I have no Exception to the well-drawn Rusticities in the

_Country-Wake_[2]; and there is something so miraculously pleasant in

_Dogget's_ acting the aukward Triumph and comick Sorrow of _Hob_ in

different Circumstances, that I shall not be able to stay away whenever

it is acted. All that vexes me is, that the Gallantry of taking the

Cudgels for _Gloucestershire_, with the Pride of Heart in tucking

himself up, and taking Aim at his Adversary, as well as the other's

Protestation in the Humanity of low Romance, That he could not promise

the Squire to break _Hob's_ Head, but he would, if he could, do it in

Love; then flourish and begin: I say, what vexes me is, that such

excellent Touches as these, as well as the Squire's being out of all

patience at _Hob's_ Success, and venturing himself into the Croud, are

Circumstances hardly taken Notice of, and the height of the Jest is only

in the very Point that Heads are broken. I am confident, were there a

Scene written, wherein _Penkethman_ should break his Leg by wrestling

with _Bullock_, and _Dicky_ come in to set it, without one word said but

what should be according to the exact Rules of Surgery in making this

Extention, and binding up the Leg, the whole House should be in a Roar

of Applause at the dissembled Anguish of the Patient, the help given by

him who threw him down, and the handy Address and arch Looks of the

Surgeon. To enumerate the entrance of Ghosts, the Embattling of Armies,

the Noise of Heroes in Love, with a thousand other Enormities, would be

to transgress the bounds of this Paper, for which reason it is possible

they may have hereafter distinct Discourses; not forgetting any of the

Audience who shall set up for Actors, and interrupt the Play on the

Stage; and Players who shall prefer the Applause of Fools to that of the

reasonable part of the Company.

T.

[Footnote 1: Is this another version of the very wise man whom Andrew

Fletcher of Saltoun, in a letter to Montrose, said that he knew, who

'believed, that if a Man were permitted to make all the ballads, he

need not care who should make the laws of a nation'?

Andrew Fletcher, who could not have known any of Elizabeth's statesmen,

was yet alive when this paper was written.]

[Footnote 2: Heautontimoroumenos, Act ii. sc. 2.]

[Footnote 3: Dogget had been acting a few nights before in _the Country

Wake_. The part of Hob was his own in every sense, he being the author

of the farce, which afterwards was made into a very popular ballad opera

called _Flora_, or _Hob in the Well_.]

* * * * *

No. 503. Tuesday, October 7, 1712. Steele.

'Deleo omnes dehinc ex animo Mulieres.'

Ter.

_Mr._ SPECTATOR,

'You have often mention'd with great Vehemence and Indignation the

Misbehaviour of People at Church; but I am at present to talk to you

on that Subject, and complain to you of one, whom at the same time I

know not what to accuse of, except it be looking too well there, and

diverting the Eyes of the Congregation to that one Object. However I

have this to say, that she might have stay'd at her own Parish, and

not come to perplex those who are otherwise intent upon their Duty.

'Last _Sunday_ was Seven-night I went into a Church not far from

_London_-Bridge; but I wish I had been contented to go to my own

Parish, I am sure it had been better for me: I say, I went to Church

thither, and got into a Pew very near the Pulpit. I had hardly been

accommodated with a Seat, before there entered into the Isle a young

Lady in the very Bloom of Youth and Beauty, and dressed in the most

elegant manner imaginable. Her Form was such, that it engaged the Eyes

of the whole Congregation in an Instant, and mine among the rest. Tho'

we were all thus fixed upon her, she was not in the least out of

Countenance, or under the least Disorder, tho' unattended by any one,

and not seeming to know particularly where to place her self. However,

she had not in the least a confident Aspect, but moved on with the

most graceful Modesty, every one making Way till she came to a Seat

just over-against that in which I was placed. The Deputy of the Ward

sat in that Pew, and she stood opposite to him; and at a Glance into

the Seat, tho' she did not appear the least acquainted with the

Gentleman, was let in, with a Confusion that spoke much Admiration at

the Novelty of the Thing. The Service immediately began, and she

compos'd her self for it with an Air of so much Goodness and

Sweetness, that the Confession which she uttered so as to be heard

where I sat, appeared an Act of Humiliation more than she had Occasion

for. The Truth is, her Beauty had something so innocent, and yet so

sublime, that we all gazed upon her like a Phantom. None of the

Pictures which we behold of the best _Italian_ Painters, have any

thing like the Spirit which appeared in her Countenance, at the

different Sentiments expressed in the several Parts of Divine Service:

That Gratitude and Joy at a Thanksgiving, that Lowliness and Sorrow at

the Prayers for the Sick and Distressed, that Triumph at the Passages

which gave Instances of divine Mercy, which appeared respectively in

her Aspect, will be in my Memory to my last Hour. I protest to you,

Sir, she suspended the Devotion of every one around her; and the Ease

she did every thing with, soon dispersed the churlish Dislike and

Hesitation in approving what is excellent, too frequent amongst us, to

a general Attention and Entertainment in observing her Behaviour. All

the while that we were gazing at her, she took Notice of no Object

about her, but had an Art of seeming awkwardly attentive, whatever

else her Eyes were accidentally thrown upon. One Thing indeed was

particular, she stood the whole Service, and never kneeled or sat; I

do not question but that was to shew her self with the greater

Advantage, and set forth to better Grace her Hands and Arms, lifted up

with the most ardent Devotion, and her Bosom, the fairest Observation;

while she, you must think, knew nothing of the Concern she gave

others, any other than as an Example of Devotion, that threw her self

out, without regard to Dress or Garment, all Contrition, and loose of

all Worldly Regards, in Ecstasy of Devotion. Well, now the Organ was

to play a Voluntary, and she was so skilful in Musick, and so touched

with it, that she kept time not only with some Motion of her Head, but

also with a different Air in her Countenance. When the Musick was

strong and bold, she look'd exalted, but serious; when lively and

airy, she was smiling and gracious; when the Notes were more soft and

languishing, she was kind and full of Pity. When she had now made it

visible to the whole Congregation, by her Motion and Ear, that she

could dance, and she wanted now only to inform us that she could sing

too, when the Psalm was given out, her Voice was distinguished above

all the rest, or rather People did not exert their own in order to

hear her. Never was any heard so sweet and so strong. The Organist

observed it, and he thought fit to play to her only, and she swelled

every Note; when she found she had thrown us all out, and had the last

Verse to herself in such a manner as the whole Congregation was intent

upon her, in the same manner as we see in the Cathedrals, they are on

the Person who sings alone the Anthem. Well, it came at last to the

Sermon, and our young Lady would not lose her Part in that neither;

for she fixed her Eye upon the Preacher, and as he said any thing she

approved, with one of _Charles Mathers's_ fine Tablets she set down

the Sentence, at once shewing her fine Hand, the Gold-Pen, her

Readiness in Writing, and her Judgment in chusing what to write. To

sum up what I intend by this long and particular Account, I mean to

appeal to you, whether it is reasonable that such a Creature as this

shall come from a jaunty Part of the Town, and give herself such

violent Airs, to the disturbance of an innocent and inoffensive

Congregation, with her Sublimities. The Fact, I assure you, was as I

have related; but I had like to have forgot another very considerable

Particular. As soon as Church was done, she immediately stepp'd out of

her Pew, and fell into the finest pitty-pat Air, forsooth, wonderfully

out of Countenance, tossing her Head up and down as she swam along the

Body of the Church. I, with several others of the Inhabitants,

follow'd her out, and saw her hold up her Fan to an Hackney-Coach at a

Distance, who immediately came up to her, and she whipp'd into it with

great Nimbleness, pull'd the Door with a bowing Mein, as if she had

been used to a better Glass. She said aloud, _You know where to go_,

and drove off. By this time the best of the Congregation was at the

Church-Door, and I could hear some say, _A very fine Lady_; others,

_I'll warrant ye, she's no better than she should be_; and one very

wise old Lady said, _She ought to have been taken up_. Mr. SPECTATOR,

I think this Matter lies wholly before you: for the Offence does not

come under any Law, tho' it is apparent this Creature came among us

only to give herself Airs, and enjoy her full Swing in being admir'd.

I desire you would print this, that she may be confin'd to her own

Parish; for I can assure you there is no attending any thing else in a

Place where she is a Novelty. She has been talked of among us ever

since under the Name of the _Phantom_: But I would advise her to come

no more; for there is so strong a Party made by the Women against her,

that she must expect they will not be excell'd a second time in so

outrageous a manner, without doing her some Insult. Young Women, who

assume after this rate, and affect exposing themselves to view in

Congregations at t'other end of the Town, are not so mischievous,

because they are rivall'd by more of the same Ambition, who will not

let the rest of the Company be particular: But in the Name of the

whole Congregation where I was, I desire you to keep these agreeable

Disturbances out of the City, where Sobriety of Manners is still

preserv'd, and all glaring and ostentatious Behaviour, even in things

laudable, discountenanced. I wish you may never see the Phantom, and

am,'

_SIR_,

_Your most humble Servant_,

Ralph Wonder.

T.

* * * * *

No. 504. Wednesday, October 8, 1712. Steele.

'Lepus tute es, et pulpamentum quæris.'

Ter.

It is a great Convenience to those who want Wit to furnish out a

Conversation, that there is something or other in all Companies where it

is wanted substituted in its stead, which according to their Taste, does

the Business as well. Of this nature is the agreeable Pastime in

Country-Halls of Cross-purposes, Questions and Commands, and the like. A

little superior to these are those who can play at Crambo, or cap

Verses. Then above them are such as can make Verses, that is, Rhime; and

among those who have the _Latin_ Tongue, such as use to make what they

call golden Verses. Commend me also to those who have not Brains enough

for any of these Exercises, and yet do not give up their Pretensions to

Mirth. These can slap you on the Back unawares, laugh loud, ask you how

you do with a Twang on your Shoulders, say you are dull to-day, and

laugh a Voluntary to put you in Humour; the laborious Way among the

minor Poets, of making things come into such and such a Shape, as that

of an Egg, an Hand, an Ax, or any thing that no body had ever thought on

before for that purpose, or which would have cost a great deal of Pains

to accomplish it if they did. But all these Methods, tho' they are

mechanical, and may be arrived at with the smallest Capacity, do not

serve an honest Gentleman who wants Wit for his Ordinary Occasions;

therefore it is absolutely necessary that the Poor in Imagination should

have something which may be serviceable to them at all Hours upon all

common Occurrences. That which we call Punning is therefore greatly

affected by Men of small Intellects. These Men need not be concerned

with you for the whole Sentence; but if they can say a quaint thing, or

bring in a Word which sounds like any one Word you have spoken to them

they can turn the Discourse, or distract you so that you cannot go on,

and by consequence if they cannot be as witty as you are, they can

hinder your being any wittier than they are. Thus if you talk of a

Candle, he _can deal_ with you; and if you ask him to help you to some

Bread, a Punster should think himself very ill-_bred_ if he did not; and

if he is not as well-_bred_ as your self, he hopes for _Grains_ of

Allowance. If you do not understand that last Fancy, you must recollect

that Bread is made of Grain; and so they go on for ever, without

Possibility of being exhausted.

There are another Kind of People of small Faculties, who supply want of

Wit with want of Breeding; and because Women are both by Nature and

Education more offended at any thing which is immodest than we Men are,

these are ever harping upon things they ought not to allude to, and deal

mightily in double Meanings. Every one's own Observation will suggest

Instances enough of this kind, without my mentioning any; for your

double Meaners are dispersed up and down thro' all Parts of Town or City

where there are any to offend, in order to set off themselves. These Men

are mighty loud Laughers, and held very pretty Gentlemen with the

sillier and unbred Part of Womankind. But above all already mentioned,

or any who ever were, or ever can be in the World, the happiest and

surest to be pleasant, are a Sort of People whom we have not indeed

lately heard much of, and those are your _Biters_.

A _Biter_ [1] is one who tells you a thing you have no reason to

disbelieve in it self; and perhaps has given you, before he bit you, no

reason to disbelieve it for his saying it; and if you give him Credit,

laughs in your Face, and triumphs that he has deceiv'd you. In a Word, a

_Biter_ is one who thinks you a Fool, because you do not think him a

Knave. This Description of him one may insist upon to be a just one; for

what else but a Degree of Knavery is it, to depend upon Deceit for what

you gain of another, be it in point of Wit, or Interest, or any thing

else?

This way of Wit is called _Biting_, by a Metaphor taken from Beasts of

Prey, which devour harmless and unarmed Animals, and look upon them as

their Food wherever they meet them. The Sharpers about Town very

ingeniously understood themselves to be to the undesigning Part of

Mankind what Foxes are to Lambs, and therefore used the Word _Biting_ to

express any Exploit wherein they had over-reach'd any innocent and

inadvertent Man of his Purse. These Rascals of late Years have been the

Gallants of the Town, and carried it with a fashionable haughty Air, to

the discouragement of Modesty and all honest Arts. Shallow Fops, who are

govern'd by the Eye, and admire every thing that struts in vogue, took

up from the Sharpers the Phrase of _Biting_, and used it upon all

Occasions, either to disown any nonsensical Stuff they should talk

themselves, or evade the Force of what was reasonably said by others.

Thus, when one of these cunning Creatures was enter'd into a Debate with

you, whether it was practicable in the present State of Affairs to

accomplish such a Proposition, and you thought he had let fall what

destroy'd his Side of the Question, as soon as you look'd with an

Earnestness ready to lay hold of it, he immediately cry'd, _Bite_, and

you were immediately to acknowledge all that Part was in Jest. They

carry this to all the Extravagance imaginable, and if one of these

Witlings knows any Particulars which may give Authority to what he says,

he is still the more ingenious if he imposes upon your Credulity. I

remember a remarkable Instance of this Kind. There came up a shrewd

young Fellow to a plain young Man, his Countryman, and taking him aside

with a grave concern'd Countenance, goes on at this rate: I see you

here, and have you heard nothing out of _Yorkshire_--You look so

surpriz'd you could not have heard of it--and yet the Particulars are

such, that it cannot be false: I am sorry I am got into it so far that I

now must tell you; but I know not but it may be for your Service to

know--on _Tuesday_ last, just after Dinner--you know his Manner is to

smoke, opening his Box, your Father fell down dead in an Apoplexy. The

Youth shew'd the filial Sorrow which he ought--Upon which the witty Man

cry'd, _Bite, there was nothing in all this_--

To put an end to this silly, pernicious, frivolous Way at once, I will

give the Reader one late Instance of a _Bite_, which no _Biter_ for the

future will ever be able to equal, tho' I heartily wish him the same

Occasion. It is a Superstition with some Surgeons who beg the Bodies of

condemn'd Malefactors, to go to the Gaol, and bargain for the Carcase

with the Criminal himself. A good honest Fellow did so last Sessions,

and was admitted to the condemned Men on the Morning wherein they died.

The Surgeon communicated his Business, and fell into discourse with a

little Fellow, who refused Twelve Shillings, and insisted upon Fifteen

for his Body. The Fellow, who kill'd the Officer of _Newgate_, very

forwardly, and like a Man who was willing to deal, told him, Look you,

Mr. Surgeon, that little dry Fellow, who has been half-starved all his

Life, and is now half-dead with Fear, cannot answer your Purpose. I have

ever liv'd high and freely, my Veins are full, I have not pined in

Imprisonment; you see my Crest swells to your Knife, and after

_Jack-Catch_ has done, upon my Honour you'll find me as sound as e'er a

Bullock in any of the Markets. Come, for Twenty Shillings I am your

Man--Says the Surgeon, Done, there's a Guinea--This witty Rogue took the

Money, and as soon as he had it in his Fist, cries, _Bite, I am to be

hang'd in Chains._

T.

[Footnote 1: See No. 47. Swift writes,

'I'll teach you a way to outwit Mrs. Johnson; it is a new fashioned

way of being witty, and they call it a _Bite_. You must ask a

bantering question, or tell some lie in a serious manner, then she

will answer, or speak as if you were in earnest, and then cry you,

"Madam, there's a _Bite_." I would not have you undervalue this, for

it is the constant amusement in Court, and every where else among the

great people; and I let you know it, in order to have it among you,

and to teach you a new refinement.'

Journal to Stella. Although 'bite' and 'biter' have not retained this

sense, it remains in an occasional use of the word 'bitten.']

* * * * *

No. 505. Thursday, October 9, 1712. Addison.

'Non habeo denique nauci Marsum Augurem,

Non vicanos Aruspices, non de circo Astrologos,

Non Isiacos Conjectores, non Interpletes somnium:

Non enim sunt ii aut scientiâ, aut arte Divini,

Sed superstitiosi vates, impudentesque harioli,

Aut inertes, aut insani, aut quibus egestas imperat:

Qui sui questus causa fictas suscitant sententias,

Qui sibi semitam non sapiunt, alteri monstrant viam,

Quibus divitias pollicentur, ab iis drachmam petunt;

De divitiis deducant drachmam, reddant coetera.'

Ennius.

Those who have maintain'd that Men would be more miserable than Beasts,

were their Hopes confin'd to this Life only; among other Considerations

take notice that the latter are only afflicted with the Anguish of the

present Evil, whereas the former are very often pained by the Reflection

on what is passed, and the Fear of what is to come. This Fear of any

Future Difficulties or Misfortunes is so natural to the Mind, that were

a Man's Sorrows and Disquietudes summ'd up at the End of his Life, it

would generally be found that he had suffer'd more from the Apprehension

of such Evils as never happen'd to him, than from those Evils which had

really befallen him. To this we may add, that among those Evils which

befal us, there are many that have been more painful to us in the

Prospect, than by their actual Pressure.

This natural Impatience to look into Futurity, and to know what

Accidents may happen to us hereafter, has given birth to many ridiculous

Arts and Inventions. Some found their Prescience on the Lines of a Man's

Hand, others on the Features of his Face; some on the Signatures which

Nature has impressed on his Body, and others on his own Hand-Writing:

Some read Men's Fortunes in the Stars, as others have searched after

them in the Entrails of Beasts, or the Flights of Birds. Men of the best

Sense have been touched, more or less, with these groundless Horrours

and Presages of Futurity, upon surveying the most indifferent Works of

Nature. Can any thing be more surprizing than to consider _Cicero_, who

made the greatest Figure at the Bar, and in the Senate of the _Roman_

Commonwealth, and, at the same time, outshined all the Philosophers of

Antiquity in his Library and in his Retirements, as busying himself in

the College of Augurs, and observing, with a religious Attention, after

what manner the Chickens peck'd the several Grains of Corn which were

thrown to them?

Notwithstanding these Follies are pretty well worn out of the Minds of

the Wise and Learned in the present Age, Multitudes of weak and ignorant

Persons are still Slaves to them. There are numberless Arts of

Prediction among the Vulgar, which are too trifling to enumerate; and

infinite Observations, of Days, Numbers, Voices, and Figures, which are

regarded by them as Portents and Prodigies. In short, every thing

Prophesies to the superstitious Man, there is scarce a Straw or a rusty

Piece of Iron that lies in his way by Accident.

It is not to be conceiv'd how many Wizards, Gypsies, and Cunning-Men are

dispers'd thro' all the Countries and Market-Towns of _Great-Britain_,

not to mention the Fortune-tellers and Astrologers, who live very

comfortably upon the Curiosity of several well-dispos'd Persons in the

Cities of _London_ and _Westminster_.

Among the many pretended Arts of Divination, there is none which so

universally amuses as that by Dreams. I have indeed observ'd in a late

Speculation, that there have been sometimes, upon very extraordinary

Occasions, supernatural Revelations made to certain Persons by this

means; but as it is the chief Business of this Paper to root out popular

Errors, I must endeavour to expose the Folly and Superstition of those

Persons, who, in the common and ordinary course of Life, lay any stress

upon things of so uncertain, shadowy, and chimerical a nature. This I

cannot do more effectually than by the following Letter, which is dated

from a Quarter of the Town that has always been the Habitation of some

prophetick _Philomath_; it having been usual, time out of Mind, for all

such People as have lost their Wits, to resort to that Place either for

their Cure [1] or for their Instruction.

_Moor-Fields_, Oct. 4, 1712.

_Mr_. SPECTATOR,

'Having long consider'd whether there be any Trade wanting in this

great City, after having survey'd very attentively all kinds of Ranks

and Professions, I do not find in any Quarter of the Town an

_Oneirocritick_, or, in plain _English_, an Interpreter of Dreams. For

want of so useful a Person, there are several good People who are very

much puzled in this Particular, and dream a whole Year together

without being ever the wiser for it. I hope I am pretty well qualify'd

for this Office, having studied by Candlelight all the Rules of Art

which have been laid down upon this Subject. My great Uncle by my

Wife's Side was a _Scotch_ Highlander, and second-sighted. I have four

Fingers and two Thumbs upon one Hand, and was born on the longest

Night of the Year. My Christian and Sir-Name begin and end with the

same Letters. I am lodg'd in _Moorfields_, in a House that for these

fifty years has been always tenanted by a Conjurer.

'If you had been in Company, so much as my self, with ordinary Women

of the Town, you must know that there are many of them who every day

in their Lives, upon seeing or hearing of any thing that is

unexpected, cry, _My Dream is out_; and cannot go to sleep in quiet

the next night, till something or other has happen'd which has

expounded the Visions of the preceding one. There are others who are

in very great pain for not being able to recover the Circumstances of

a Dream, that made strong Impressions upon them while it lasted. In

short, Sir, there are many whose waking Thoughts are wholly employ'd

on their sleeping ones. For the benefit therefore of this curious and

inquisitive Part of my Fellow-Subjects, I shall in the first place

tell those Persons what they dreamt of, who fancy they never dream at

all. In the next place, I shall make out any Dream, upon hearing a

single Circumstance of it; and in the last place, shall expound to

them the good or bad Fortune which such Dreams portend. If they do not

presage good luck, I shall desire nothing for my Pains; not

questioning at the same time that those who consult me will be so

reasonable as to afford me a moderate Share out of any considerable

Estate, Profit or Emolument which I shall thus discover to them. I

interpret to the Poor for nothing, on condition that their Names may

be inserted in Publick Advertisements, to attest the Truth of such my

Interpretations. As for People of Quality or others, who are

indisposed, and do not care to come in Person, I can interpret their

Dreams by seeing their Water. I set aside one Day in the Week for

Lovers; and interpret by the great for any Gentlewoman who is turned

of Sixty, after the rate of half a Crown _per_ Week, with the usual

Allowances for good Luck. I have several Rooms and Apartments fitted

up, at reasonable rates, for such as have not Conveniences for

dreaming at their own Houses.

_Titus Trophonius_.

_N. B_. I am not dumb.

O.

[Footnote 1: Bedlam was then in Moorfields.]

* * * * *

No. 206. Friday, October 10, 1712. Budgell.

'Candida perpetuo reside, concordia, lecto,

Tamque pari semper sit Venus æqua jugo.

Diligat illa, senem quondam: Sed et ipsa marito,

Tunc quoque cum fuerit, non videatur anus.'

Mart.

The following Essay is written by the Gentleman, to whom the World is

oblig'd for those several excellent Discourses which have been marked

with the Letter X.

I have somewhere met with a Fable that made _Wealth_ the Father of

_Love_. It is certain a Mind ought, at least, to be free from the

Apprehensions of Want and Poverty, before it can fully attend to all the

Softnesses and Endearments of this Passion. Notwithstanding we see

Multitudes of married People, who are utter Strangers to this delightful

Passion amidst all the Affluence of the most plentiful Fortunes.

It is not sufficient to make a Marriage happy, that the Humours of two

People should be alike; I could instance an hundred Pair, who have not

the least Sentiment of Love remaining for one another, yet are so like

in their Humours, that if they were not already married, the whole World

would design them for Man and Wife.

The Spirit of Love has something so extremely fine in it, that it is

very often disturbed and lost, by some little Accidents which the

Careless and Unpolite never attend to, till it is gone past Recovery.

Nothing has more contributed to banish it from a married State, than too

great a Familiarity, and laying aside the common Rules of Decency. Tho'

I could give Instances of this in several Particulars, I shall only

mention that of _Dress_. The Beaus and Belles about Town, who dress

purely to catch one another, think there is no further occasion for the

Bait, when their first Design has succeeded. But besides the too common

Fault in point of Neatness, there are several others which I do not

remember to have seen touched upon, but in one of our modern Comedies,

[1] where a _French_ Woman offering to undress and dress herself before

the Lover of the Play, and assuring his Mistress that it was very useful

in _France_, the Lady tells her that's a Secret in Dress she never knew

before, and that she was so unpolish'd an _English_ Woman, as to resolve

never to learn even to dress before her Husband.

There is something so gross in the Carriage of some Wives, that they

lose their Husbands Hearts for Faults, which, if a Man has either

Good-Nature or Good-Breeding, he knows not how to tell them of. I am

afraid, indeed, the Ladies are generally most faulty in this Particular,

who, at their first giving into Love, find the Way so smooth and

pleasant, that they fancy 'tis scarce possible to be tired in it.

There is so much Nicety and Discretion requir'd to keep Love alive after

Marriage, and make Conversation still new and agreeable after twenty or

thirty years, that I know nothing which seems readily to promise it, but

an earnest endeavour to please on both sides, and superior good Sense on

the part of Man.

By a Man of Sense, I mean one acquainted with Business and Letters.

A Woman very much settles her Esteem for a Man, according to the Figure

he makes in the World, and the Character he bears among his own Sex. As

Learning is the chief Advantage we have over them, it is, methinks, as

scandalous and inexcusable for a Man of Fortune to be illiterate, as for

a Woman not to know how to behave her self on the most ordinary

Occasions. It is this which sets the two Sexes at the greatest Distance;

a Woman is vexed and surpriz'd, to find nothing more in the Conversation

of a Man, than in the common Tattle of her own Sex.

Some small Engagement at least in Business, not only sets a Man's

Talents in the fairest Light, and allots him a Part to act, in which a

Wife cannot well intermeddle; but gives frequent occasions for those

little Absences, which, whatever seeming Uneasiness they may give, are

some of the best Preservatives of Love and Desire.

The Fair Sex are so conscious to themselves, that they have

nothing in them which can deserve entirely to engross the

whole Man, that they heartily despise one, who, to use their

own Expression, is always hanging at their Apron-Strings.

_Lætitia_ is pretty, modest, tender, and has Sense enough; she married

_Erastus_, who is in a Post of some Business, and has a general Taste in

most Parts of polite Learning. _Lætitia_, where ever she visits, has the

pleasure to hear of something which was handsomely said or done by

_Erastus_. _Erastus_, since his Marriage, is more gay in his Dress than

ever, and in all Companies is as complaisant to _Lætitia_ as to any

other Lady. I have seen him give her her Fan, when it has dropped, with

all the Gallantry of a Lover. When they take the Air together, _Erastus_

is continually improving her Thoughts, and with a Turn of Wit and Spirit

which is peculiar to him, giving her an Insight into things she had no

notion of before. _Lætitia_ is transported at having a new World thus

open'd to her, and hangs upon the Man that gives her such agreeable

Informations. _Erastus_ has carried this Point still further, as he

makes her daily not only more fond of him, but infinitely more satisfied

with herself. _Erastus_ finds a Justness or Beauty in whatever she says

or observes, that _Lætitia_ herself was not aware of; and, by his

Assistance, she has discovered an hundred good Qualities and

Accomplishments in herself, which she never before once dreamed of.

_Erastus_, with the most artful Complaisance in the World, by several

remote Hints, finds the means to make her say or propose almost whatever

he has a mind to, which he always receives as her own Discovery, and

gives her all the Reputation of it.

_Erastus_ has a perfect Taste in Painting, and carried _Lætitia_ with

him the other day to see a Collection of Pictures. I sometimes visit

this happy Couple. As we were last Week walking in the long Gallery

before Dinner, _I have lately laid out some Mony in Paintings_, says

_Erastus; I bought that_ Venus _and_ Adonis _purely upon_ Lætitia's

_Judgment; it cost me three-score Guineas, and I was this morning

offer'd [a [2]] hundred for it_. I turned towards _Lætitia_, and saw her

Cheeks glow with Pleasure, while at the same time she cast a look upon

_Erastus_, the most tender and affectionate I ever beheld.

_Flavilla_ married _Tom Tawdry_; she was taken with his laced Coat and

rich Sword-knot; she has the mortification to see _Tom_ despised by all

the worthy Part of his own Sex. _Tom_ has nothing to do after Dinner,

but to determine whether he will pare his Nails at St. _James's,

White's_, or his own House. He has said nothing to _Flavilla_ since they

were married, which she might not have heard as well from her own Woman.

He however takes great care to keep up the saucy ill-natur'd Authority

of a Husband. Whatever _Flavilla_ happens to assert, _Tom_ immediately

contradicts with an Oath, by way of Preface, and, _My Dear, I must tell

you, you talk most confoundedly silly. Flavilla_ had a Heart naturally

as well dispos'd for all the Tenderness of Love as that of _Lætitia_;

but as Love seldom continues long after Esteem, it is difficult to

determine, at present, whether the unhappy _Flavilla_ hates or despises

the Person most, whom she is obliged to lead her whole Life with.

[X.]

[Footnote 1: Steele's _Funeral_, or _Grief a la Mode_, Act III.]

[Footnote 2: [an] and in first reprint.]

* * * * *

No. 507. Saturday, October 11, 1712. Addison.

'Defendit numerus, junctæque umbone Phalanges.'

Juv.

There is something very Sublime, tho' very fanciful, in _Plato's_

Description of the Supreme Being, That _Truth is his Body, and Light his

Shadow_. According to this Definition, there is nothing so contradictory

to his Nature, as Error and Falshood. The Platonists have so just a

Notion of the Almighty's Aversion to every thing which is false and

erroneous, that they looked upon _Truth_ as no less necessary than

_Virtue_, to qualifie an human Soul for the Enjoyment of a separate

State. For this reason as they recommended Moral Duties to qualifie and

season the Will for a future Life, so they prescribed several

Contemplations and Sciences to rectifie the Understanding. Thus _Plato_

has called Mathematical Demonstrations the Catharticks or Purgatives of

the Soul, as being the most proper Means to cleanse it from Error, and

to give it a Relish of Truth; which is the natural Food and Nourishment

of the Understanding, as Virtue is the Perfection and Happiness of the

Will.

There are many Authors who have shewn wherein the Malignity of a _Lie_

consists, and set forth in proper Colours, the Heinousness of the

Offence. I shall here consider one Particular Kind of this Crime, which

has not been so much spoken to; I mean that abominable Practice of

_Party-lying_. This Vice is so very predominant among us at present,

that a Man is thought of no Principles, who does not propagate a certain

System of Lies. The Coffee-Houses are supported by them, the Press is

choaked with them, eminent Authors live upon them. Our

Bottle-Conversation is so infected with them, that a Party-Lie is grown

as fashionable an Entertainment, as a lively Catch or a merry Story: The

Truth of it is, half the great Talkers in the Nation would be struck

dumb, were this Fountain of Discourse dried up. There is however one

Advantage resulting from this detestable Practice; the very Appearances

of Truth are so little regarded, that Lies are at present discharg'd in

the Air, and begin to hurt no Body. When we hear a Party-story from a

Stranger, we consider whether he is a Whig or a Tory that relates it,

and immediately conclude they are Words of course, in which the honest

Gentleman designs to recommend his Zeal, without any Concern for his

Veracity. A Man is looked upon as bereft of common Sense, that gives

Credit to the Relations of Party-Writers; [nay] his own Friends shake

their Heads at him, and consider him in no other Light than as an

officious Tool or a well-meaning Ideot. When it was formerly the Fashion

to husband a Lie, and trump it up in some extraordinary Emergency, it

generally did Execution, and was not a little serviceable to the Faction

that made use of it; but at present every Man is upon his Guard, the

Artifice has been too often repeated to take Effect.

I have frequently wonder'd to see Men of Probity, who would scorn to

utter a Falshood for their own particular Advantage, give so readily

into a Lie when it becomes the Voice of their Faction, notwithstanding

they are thoroughly sensible of it as such. How is it possible for those

who are Men of Honour in their Persons, thus to become notorious Liars

in their Party? If we look into the Bottom of this Matter, we may find,

I think, three Reasons for it, and at the same time discover the

Insufficiency of these Reasons to justify so Criminal a Practice.

In the first place, Men are apt to think that the Guilt of a Lie, and

consequently the Punishment, may be very much diminish'd, if not wholly

worn out, by the Multitudes of those who partake in it. Tho' the Weight

of a Falshood would be too heavy for _one_ to bear, it grows light in

their Imaginations, when it is shared among _many_. But in this Case a

Man very much deceives himself; Guilt, when it spreads thro' numbers, is

not so properly divided as multiplied: Every one is criminal in

proportion to the Offence which he commits, not to the Number of those

who are his Companions in it. Both the Crime and the Penalty lie as

heavy upon every Individual of an offending Multitude, as they would

upon any single Person had none shared with him in the Offence. In a

word, the Division of Guilt is like that of Matter; tho' it may be

separated into infinite Portions, every Portion shall have the whole

Essence of Matter in it, and consist of as many Parts as the Whole did

before it was divided.

But in the second place, tho' Multitudes, who join in a Lie, cannot

exempt themselves from the Guilt, they may from the Shame of it. The

Scandal of a Lie is in a manner lost and annihilated, when diffused

among several Thousands; as a Drop of the blackest Tincture wears away

and vanishes, when mixed and confused in a considerable Body of Water;

the Blot is still in it, but is not able to discover it self. This is

certainly a very great Motive to several Party-Offenders, who avoid

Crimes, not as they are prejudicial to their Virtue, but to their

Reputation. It is enough to shew the Weakness of this Reason, which

palliates Guilt without removing it, that every Man who is influenced by

it declares himself in effect an infamous Hypocrite, prefers the

Appearance of Virtue to its Reality, and is determined in his Conduct

neither by the Dictates of his own Conscience, the Suggestions of true

Honour, nor the Principles of Religion.

The third and last great Motive for Mens joining in a popular Falshood,

or, as I have hitherto called it, a Party-Lie, notwithstanding they are

convinced of it as such, is the doing Good to a Cause which every Party

may be supposed to look upon as the most meritorious. The Unsoundness of

this Principle has been so often exposed, and is so universally

acknowledged, that a Man must be an utter Stranger to the Principles,

either of natural Religion or Christianity, who suffers himself to be

guided by it. If a Man might promote the supposed Good of his Country by

the blackest Calumnies and Falshoods, our Nation abounds more in

Patriots than any other of the Christian World. When _Pompey_ was

desired not to set Sail in a Tempest that would hazard his Life, _It is

necessary for me_, says he, _to Sail, but it is not necessary for me to

Live_: [1] Every Man should say to himself, with the same Spirit, It is

my Duty to speak Truth, tho' it is not my Duty to be in an Office. One

of the Fathers hath carried this Point so high, as to declare, _He would

not tell a Lie, tho' he were sure to gain Heaven by it_. However

extravagant such a Protestation may appear, every one will own, that a

Man may say very reasonably, _He would not tell a Lie, if he were sure

to gain Hell by it_; or, if you have a mind to soften the Expression,

that he would not tell a Lie to gain any Temporal Reward by it, when he

should run the hazard of losing much more than it was possible for him

to gain.

O.

[Footnote 1: Quoted from Plutarch's Life, § 50. Terser in the

original:--'[Greek: Plein anágkae, zaen ouk anágkae.]']

* * * * *

No. 508. Monday, October 13, 1712. Steele.

'Omnes autem et habentur et dicuntur Tyranni, qui potestate sunt

perpetua, in ea Civitate quæ libertate usa est.'

Corn. Nepos.

The following Letters complain of what I have frequently observed with

very much Indignation; therefore I shall give them to the Publick in the

Words with which my Correspondents, who suffer under the Hardships

mention'd in them, describe them.

_Mr._ SPECTATOR,

'In former Ages all Pretensions to Dominion have been supported and

submitted to, either upon Account of Inheritance, Conquest or

Election; and all such Persons who have taken upon 'em any Soveraignty

over their Fellow-Creatures upon any other Account, have been always

called Tyrants, not so much because they were guilty of any particular

Barbarities, as because every Attempt to such a Superiority was in its

Nature tyrannical. But there is another sort of Potentates, who may

with greater Propriety be call'd Tyrants, than those last mention'd,

both as they assume a despotick Dominion over those as free as

themselves, and as they support it by Acts of notable Oppression and

Injustice; and these are the Rulers in all Clubs and Meetings. In

other Governments, the Punishments of some have been alleviated by the

Reward of others; but what makes the Reign of these Potentates so

particularly grievous, is, that they are exquisite in punishing their

Subjects, at the same time they have it not in their power to reward

'em. That the Reader may the better comprehend the Nature of these

Monarchs, as well as the miserable State of those that are their

Vassals, I shall give an Account of the King of the Company I am

fallen into, whom for his particular Tyranny I shall call _Dionysius_;

as also of the Seeds that sprung up to this odd sort of Empire.

'Upon all Meetings at Taverns, 'tis necessary some one of the Company

should take it upon him to get all things in such order and readiness,

as may contribute as much as possible to the Felicity of the

Convention; such as hastening the Fire, getting a sufficient number of

Candles, tasting the Wine with a judicious Smack, fixing the Supper,

and being brisk for the Dispatch of it. Know then, that _Dionysius_

went thro' these Offices with an Air that seem'd to express a

Satisfaction rather in serving the Publick, than in gratifying any

particular Inclination of his own. We thought him a Person of an

exquisite Palate, and therefore by consent beseeched him to be always

our Proveditor; which Post, after he had handsomely denied, he could

do no otherwise than accept. At first he made no other use of his

Power, than in recommending such and such things to the Company, ever

allowing these Points to be disputable; insomuch that I have often

carried the Debate for Partridge, when his Majesty has given

Intimation of the high Relish of Duck, but at the same time has

chearfully submitted, and devour'd his Partridge with most gracious

Resignation. This Submission on his side naturally produc'd the like

on ours; of which he in a little time made such barbarous Advantage,

as in all those Matters, which before seem'd indifferent to him, to

issue out certain Edicts as uncontroulable and unalterable as the Laws

of the _Medes_ and _Persians_. He is by turns outragious, peevish,

froward and jovial. He thinks it our Duty for the little Offices, as

Proveditor, that in Return all Conversation is to be interrupted or

promoted by his Inclination for or against the present Humour of the

Company. We feel, at present, in the utmost Extremity, the Insolence

of Office; however, I being naturally warm, ventur'd to oppose him in

a Dispute about a Haunch of Venison. I was altogether for roasting,

but _Dionysius_ declar'd himself for boiling with so much Prowess and

Resolution, that the Cook thought it necessary to consult his own

Safety rather than the Luxury of my Proposition. With the same

Authority that he orders what we shall eat and drink, he also commands

us where to do it, and we change our Taverns according as he suspects

any Treasonable Practices in the settling the Bill by the Master, or

sees any bold Rebellion in point of Attendance by the Waiters. Another

Reason for changing the Seat of Empire, I conceive to be the Pride he

takes in the Promulgation of our Slavery, tho' we pay our Club for our

Entertainments even in these Palaces of our grand Monarch. When he has

a mind to take the Air, a Party of us are commanded out by way of

Life-Guard, and we march under as great Restrictions as they do. If we

meet a neighbouring King, we give or keep the Way according as we are

outnumber'd or not; and if the Train of each is equal in number,

rather than give Battle, the Superiority is soon adjusted by a

Desertion from one of 'em.

'Now, the Expulsion of these unjust Rulers out of all Societies, would

gain a Man as everlasting a Reputation, as either of the _Brutus's_

got from their Endeavours to extirpate Tyranny from among the

_Romans_. I confess my self to be in a Conspiracy against the Usurper

of our Club; and to shew my Reading, as well as my merciful

Disposition, shall allow him till the Ides of _March_ to dethrone

himself. If he seems to affect Empire till that time, and does not

gradually recede from the Incursions he has made upon our Liberties,

he shall find a Dinner dress'd which he has no Hand in, and shall be

treated with an Order, Magnificence and Luxury as shall break his

proud Heart; at the same time that he shall be convinc'd in his

Stomach he was unfit for his Post, and a more mild and skilful Prince

receive the Acclamations of the People, and be set up in his Room:

but, as _Milton_ says,

'--These Thoughts

Full Counsel must mature. Peace is despair'd,

And who can think Submission? War, then War

Open, or understood, must be resolved.' [1]

'I am, Sir, Your most obedient humble Servant.

_Mr._ SPECTATOR,

'I am a young Woman at a Gentleman's Seat in the Country, who is a

particular Friend of my Father's, and came hither to pass away a Month

or two with his Daughters. I have been entertained with the utmost

Civility by the whole Family, and nothing has been omitted which can

make my Stay easy and agreeable on the Part of the Family; but there

is a Gentleman here, a Visitant as I am, whose Behaviour has given me

great Uneasinesses. When I first arrived here, he used me with the

utmost Complaisance; but, forsooth, that was not with regard to my

Sex, and since he has no Designs upon me, he does not know why he

should distinguish me from a Man in things indifferent. He is, you

must know, one of those familiar Coxcombs, who have observed some

well-bred Men with a good Grace converse with Women, and say no fine

things, but yet treat them with that sort of Respect which flows from

the Heart and the Understanding, but is exerted in no Professions or

Compliments. This Puppy, to imitate this Excellence, or avoid the

contrary Fault of being troublesome in Complaisance, takes upon him to

try his Talent upon me, insomuch that he contradicts me upon all

Occasions, and one day told me I lied. If I had stuck him with my

Bodkin, and behaved my self like a Man, since he won't treat me as a

Woman, I had, I think, served him right. I wish, Sir, you would please

to give him some Maxims of Behaviour in these Points, and resolve me

if all Maids are not in point of Conversation to be treated by all

Batchelors as their Mistresses? if not so, are they not to be used as

gently as their Sisters? Is it sufferable, that the Fop of whom I

complain should say, as he would rather have such a-one without a

Groat, than me with the _Indies_? What right has any Man to make

Suppositions of things not in his Power, and then declare his Will to

the dislike of one that has never offended him? I assure you these are

things worthy your Consideration, and I hope we shall have your

Thoughts upon them. I am, tho' a Woman justly offended, ready to

forgive all this, because I have no Remedy but leaving very agreeable

Company sooner than I desire. This also is an heinous Aggravation of

his Offence, that he is inflicting Banishment upon me. Your printing

this Letter may perhaps be an Admonition to reform him: As soon as it

appears I will write my Name at the End of it, and lay it in his Way;

the making which just Reprimand, I hope you will put in the Power of,

_SIR,

Your constant Reader,

and humble Servant_.

T.

[Footnote 1: Paradise Lost, i. 659-662.]

* * * * *

No. 509. Tuesday, October 14, 1712. Steele.

'Hominis frugi et temperantis functus officium.'

Ter.

The useful Knowledge in the following Letter shall have a Place in my

Paper, tho' there is nothing in it which immediately regards the Polite

or the Learned World; I say immediately, for upon Reflection every Man

will find there is a remote Influence upon his own Affairs, in the

Prosperity or Decay of the Trading Part of Mankind. My present

Correspondent, I believe, was never in Print before; but what he says

well deserves a general Attention, tho' delivered in his own homely

Maxims, and a Kind of Proverbial Simplicity; which Sort of Learning has

rais'd more Estates than ever were, or will be, from attention to

_Virgil, Horace, Tully, Seneca, Plutarch_, or any of the rest, whom, I

dare say, this worthy Citizen would hold to be indeed ingenious, but

unprofitable Writers. But to the Letter.

_Broadstreet, Oct._ 10, 1712.

_Mr._ WILLIAM SPECTATOR,

SIR,

'I accuse you of many Discourses on the Subject of Money, which you

have heretofore promis'd the Publick, but have not discharg'd your

self thereof. But, forasmuch as you seem to depend upon Advice from

others what to do in that Point, have sate down to write you the

Needful upon that Subject. But, before I enter thereupon, I shall take

this Opportunity to observe to you, that the thriving frugal Man shews

it in every Part of his Expence, Dress, Servants, and House; and I

must in the first place, complain to you, as SPECTATOR, that in these

Particulars there is at this Time, throughout the City of _London_, a

lamentable Change from that Simplicity of Manners, which is the true

Source of Wealth and Prosperity. I just now said, the Man of Thrift

shews Regularity in every thing; but you may, perhaps, laugh that I

take Notice of such a Particular as I am going to do, for an Instance

that this City is declining, if their antient Oeconomy is not

restor'd. The Thing which gives me this Prospect, and so much Offence,

is the Neglect of the _Royal-Exchange_, I mean the Edifice so called,

and the Walks appertaining thereunto. The _Royal-Exchange_ is a

Fabrick that well deserves to be so called, as well to express that

our Monarch's highest Glory and Advantage consists in being the

Patrons of Trade, as that it is commodious for Business, and an

Instance of the Grandeur both of Prince and People. But alas! at

present it hardly seems to be set apart for any such Use or Purpose.

Instead of the Assembly of honourable Merchants, substantial

Tradesmen, and knowing Masters of Ships; the Mumpers, the Halt, the

Blind, and the Lame; your Venders of Trash, Apples, Plumbs; your

Ragamuffins, Rakeshames, and Wenches, have justled the greater Number

of the former out of that Place. Thus it is, especially on the

Evening-Change; so that what with the Din of Squalings, Oaths and

Cries of Beggars, Men of the greatest Consequence in our City absent

themselves from the Place. This Particular, by the way, is of evil

Consequence; for if the Change be no Place for Men of the highest

Credit to frequent, it will not be a Disgrace to those of less

Abilities to absent. I remember the time when Rascally Company were

kept out, and the unlucky Boys with Toys and Balls were whipped away

by a Beadle. I have seen this done indeed of late, but then it has

been only to chase the Lads from Chuck, that the Beadle might seize

their Copper.

I must repeat the Abomination, that the Walnut Trade is carry'd on by

old Women within the Walks, which makes the Place impassable by reason

of Shells and Trash. The Benches around are so filthy, that no one can

sit down, yet the Beadles and Officers have the Impudence at

_Christmas_ to ask for their Box, though they deserve the Strapado. I

do not think it impertinent to have mentioned this, because it speaks

a neglect in the Domestick Care of the City, and the Domestick is the

truest Picture of a Man every where else.

But I designed to speak on the Business of Money and Advancement of

Gain. The Man proper for this, speaking in the general, is of a

sedate, plain, good Understanding, not apt to go out of his way, but

so behaving himself at home, that Business may come to him. Sir

_William Turner_, that valuable Citizen, has left behind him a most

excellent Rule, and couched it in very few Words, suited to the

meanest Capacity. He would say, _Keep your Shop and your Shop will

keep you_. It must be confessed, that if a Man of a great Genius could

add Steadiness to his Vivacities, or substitute slower Men of Fidelity

to transact the methodical part of his Affairs, such a one would

outstrip the rest of the World: But Business and Trade is not to be

managed by the same Heads which write Poetry, and make Plans for the

Conduct of Life in general. So tho' we are at this day beholden to the

late witty and inventive Duke of _Buckingham_ for the whole Trade and

Manufacture of Glass, yet I suppose there is no one will aver, that,

were his Grace yet living, they would not rather deal with my diligent

Friend and Neighbour, Mr. _Gumley_, for any Goods to be prepared and

delivered on such a Day, than he would with that illustrious Mechanick

abovementioned.

'No, no, _Mr_. SPECTATOR, you Wits must not pretend to be rich; and it

is possible the Reason may be, in some Measure, because you despise,

or at least you do not value it enough to let it take up your chief

Attention; which the Trader must do, or lose his Credit, which is to

him what Honour, Reputation, Fame, or Glory is to other sort of Men.

'I shall not speak to the Point of Cash it self, till I see how you

approve of these my Maxims in general: But, I think, a Speculation

upon _Many a Little makes a Mickle, A Penny sav'd is a Penny got,

Penny wise and Pound foolish, It is Need that makes the old Wife

trot_, would be very useful to the World, and if you treated them with

Knowledge would be useful to your self, for it would make Demands for

your Paper among those who have no Notion of it at present. But of

these Matters more hereafter. If you did this, as you excel many

Writers of the present Age for Politeness, so you would outgo the

Author of the true Strops of Razors for Use.

'I shall conclude this Discourse with an Explanation of a Proverb,

which by vulgar Errour is taken and used when a Man is reduced to an

Extremity, whereas the Propriety of the Maxim is to use it when you

would say, there is Plenty, but you must make such a Choice, as not to

hurt another who is to come after you.

'Mr. _Tobias Hobson_, from whom we have the Expression, was a very

honourable Man, for I shall ever call the Man so who gets an Estate

honestly. Mr. _Tobias Hobson_ was a Carrier, and being a Man of great

Abilities and Invention, and one that saw where there might good

Profit arise, though the duller Men overlooked it; this ingenious Man

was the first in this Island who let out Hackney-Horses. He lived in

_Cambridge_, and observing that the Scholars rid hard, his manner was

to keep a large Stable of Horses, with Boots, Bridles, and Whips to

furnish the Gentlemen at once, without going from College to College

to borrow, as they have done since the Death of this worthy Man: I

say, Mr. _Hobson_ kept a Stable of forty good Cattle, always ready and

fit for travelling; but when a Man came for a Horse, he was led into

the Stable, where there was great Choice, but he obliged him to take

the Horse which stood next to the Stable-Door; so that every Customer

was alike well served according to his Chance, and every Horse ridden

with the same Justice: From whence it became a Proverb, when what

ought to be your Election was forced upon you, to say, _Hobson's

Choice_. This memorable Man stands drawn in Fresco at an Inn (which he

used) in _Bishopsgate-street_, with an hundred Pound Bag under his

Arm, with this Inscription upon the said Bag,

'The fruitful Mother of an Hundred more.'

'Whatever Tradesman will try the Experiment, and begin the day after

you publish this my Discourse to treat his Customers all alike, and

all reasonably and honestly, I will ensure him the same Success.

I am, Sir,

Your loving Friend,

Hezekiah Thrift

T.

* * * * *

No. 510. Wednesday, October 15, 1712. Steele.

'--Si sapis

Neque præterquam quas ipse amor molestias

Habet addas; et illas, quas habet, recte feras.'

Ter.

I was the other day driving in [a [1]] Hack thro' _Gerrard-street_, when

my Eye was immediately catch'd with the prettiest Object imaginable, the

Face of a very fair Girl, between Thirteen and Fourteen, fixed at the

Chin to a painted Sash, and made part of the Landskip. It seemed

admirably done, and upon throwing my self eagerly out of the Coach to

look at it, it laugh'd and flung from the Window. This amiable Figure

dwelt upon me; and I was considering the Vanity of the Girl, and her

pleasant Coquettry in acting a Picture till she was taken Notice of, and

raised the Admiration of her Beholders. This little Circumstance made me

run into Reflections upon the Force of Beauty, and the wonderful

Influence the Female Sex has upon the other part of the Species. Our

Hearts are seized with their Enchantments, and there are few of us, but

brutal Men, who by that Hardness lose the chief Pleasure in them, can

resist their Insinuations, tho' never so much against our own Interest

and Opinion. It is common with Women to destroy the good Effects a Man's

following his own Way and Inclination might have upon his Honour and

Fortune, by interposing their Power over him in matters wherein they

cannot influence him, but to his Loss and Disparagement. I do not know

therefore a Task so difficult in human Life, as to be proof against the

Importunities of a Woman a Man loves. There is certainly no Armour

against Tears, sullen Looks, or at best constrained Familiarities, in

her whom you usually meet with Transport and Alacrity. Sir _Walter

Rawleigh_ was quoted in a Letter (of a very ingenious Correspondent of

mine) on this Subject. That Author, who had lived in Courts, Camps,

travelled through many Countries, and seen many Men under several

Climates, and of as various Complections, speaks of our Impotence to

resist the Wiles of Women, in very severe Terms. His words are as

follows: [2]

_What Means did the Devil find out, or what Instruments did his own

Subtlety present him, as fittest and aptest to work his Mischief by?

Even the unquiet Vanity of the Woman; so as by_ Adam's _hearkening to

the Voice of his Wife, contrary to the express Commandment of the

living God, Mankind by that her Incantation became the subject of

Labour, Sorrow, and Death; the Woman being given to Man for a

Comforter and Companion, but not for a Counsellor. It is also to be

noted by whom the Woman was tempted; even by the most ugly and

unworthy of all Beasts, into whom the Devil entered and persuaded.

Secondly, What was the Motive of her Disobedience? Even a desire to

know what was most unfitting her Knowledge; an Affection which has

ever since remained in all the Posterity of her Sex. Thirdly, What was

it that moved the Man to yield to her Persuasions; even the same Cause

which hath moved all Men since to the like Consent, namely, an

Unwillingness to grieve her or make her sad, lest she should pine, and

be overcome with Sorrow. But if _Adam _in the state of Perfection,

and_ Solomon_ the Son of _David, _God's chosen Servant, and himself a

Man endued with the greatest Wisdom, did both of them disobey their

Creator by the Persuasion and for the Love they bare to a Woman, it is

not so wonderful as lamentable, that other Men in succeeding Ages have

been allured to so many inconvenient and wicked Practices by the

Persuasion of their Wives, or other beloved Darlings, who cover over

and shadow many malicious Purposes with a counterfeit Passion of

dissimulate Sorrow and Unquietness._

The Motions of the Minds of Lovers are no where so well described, as in

the Works of skillful Writers for the Stage. The Scene between _Fulvia_

and _Curius_, in the second Act of _Johnson's Catiline_, is an excellent

Picture of the Power of a Lady over her Gallant. The Wench plays with

his Affections; and as a Man of all Places in the World wishes to make a

good Figure with his Mistress, upon her upbraiding him with Want of

Spirit, he alludes to Enterprizes which he cannot reveal but with the

Hazard of his Life. When he is worked thus far, with a little Flattery

of her Opinion of his Gallantry, and desire to know more of it out of

her overflowing Fondness to him, he brags to her till his Life is in her

Disposal.

When a Man is thus liable to be vanquished by the Charms of her he

loves, the safest Way is to determine what is proper to be done, but to

avoid all Expostulation with her before he executes what he has

resolved. Women are ever too hard for us upon a Treaty, and one must

consider how senseless a thing it is to argue with one whose Looks and

Gestures are more prevalent with you, than your Reason and Arguments can

be with her. It is a most miserable Slavery to submit to what you

disapprove, and give up a Truth for no other Reason, but that you had

not Fortitude to support you in asserting it. A Man has enough to do to

conquer his own unreasonable Wishes and Desires; but he does that in

vain, if he has those of another to gratify. Let his Pride be in his

Wife and Family, let him give them all the Conveniences of Life in such

a manner as if he were proud of them; but let it be his own innocent

Pride, and not their exorbitant Desires, which are indulged by him. In

this case all the little Arts imaginable are used to soften a Man's

Heart, and raise his Passion above his Understanding; but in all

Concessions of this Kind, a Man should consider whether the Present he

makes flows from his own Love, or the Importunity of his Beloved: If

from the latter, he is her Slave; if from the former, her Friend. We

laugh it off, and do not weigh this Subjection to Women with that

Seriousness which so important a Circumstance deserves. Why was Courage

given to Man, if his Wife's Fears are to frustrate it? When this is once

indulged, you are no longer her Guardian and Protector, as you were

designed by Nature; but, in Compliance to her Weaknesses, you have

disabled your self from avoiding the Misfortunes into which they will

lead you both, and you are to see the Hour in which you are to be

reproached by her self for that very Complaisance to her. It is indeed

the most difficult Mastery over our selves we can possibly attain, to

resist the Grief of her who charms us; but let the Heart ake, be the

Anguish never so quick and painful, it is what must be suffered and

passed through, if you think to live like a Gentleman, or be conscious

to your self that you are a Man of Honesty. The old Argument, that _You

do not love me if you deny me this_, which first was used to obtain a

Trifle, by habitual Success will oblige the unhappy Man who gives Way to

it, to resign the Cause even of his Country and his Honour.

T.

[Footnote 1: [an] and in first reprint.]

[Footnote 2: History of the World, Bk. i. ch. 4, sect. 4.]

* * * * *