No. 526. Monday, November 3, 1712. Steele.

'--Fortius utere Loris.'

Ovid.

I am very loth to come to Extremities with the young Gentlemen mention'd

in the following Letter, and do not care to chastise them with my own

Hand, till I am forc'd by Provocations too great to be suffer'd without

the absolute Destruction of my Spectatorial Dignity. The Crimes of these

Offenders are placed under the Observation of one of my chief Officers,

who is posted just at the entrance of the Pass between _London_ and

_Westminster_. As I have great Confidence in the Capacity, Resolution

and Integrity of the Person deputed by me to give an Account of

Enormities, I doubt not but I shall soon have before me all proper

Notices which are requisite for the Amendment of Manners in Publick, and

the Instruction of each Individual of the Human Species in what is due

from him, in respect to the whole Body of Mankind. The present Paper

shall consist only of the above-mentioned Letter, and the Copy of a

Deputation which I have given to my trusty Friend Mr. _John Sly_;

wherein he is charged to notify to me all that is necessary for my

Animadversion upon the Delinquents mentioned by my Correspondent, as

well as all others described in the said Deputation.

_To the_ SPECTATOR-GENERAL _of_ Great Britain.

'I grant it does look a little familiar, but I must call you

_Dear Dumb_,

'Being got again to the farther End of the _Widow's_ Coffeehouse, I

shall from hence give you some account of the Behaviour of our

Hackney-Coachmen since my last. These indefatigable Gentlemen, without

the least Design, I dare say, of Self-Interest or Advantage to

themselves, do still ply as Volunteers Day and Night for the Good of

their Country. I will not trouble you with enumerating many

Particulars, but I must by no means omit to inform you of an Infant

about six foot high, and between twenty and thirty Years of Age, who

was seen in the Arms of a Hackney Coach-man driving by _Will's_

Coffee-house in _Covent-Garden_, between the Hours of four and five in

the Afternoon of that very Day, wherein you publish'd a Memorial

against them. This impudent young Cur, tho' he could not sit in a

Coach-box without holding, yet would he venture his Neck to bid

defiance to your Spectatorial Authority, or to any thing that you

countenanced. Who he was I know not, but I heard this Relation this

Morning from a Gentleman who was an Eye-Witness of this his Impudence;

and I was willing to take the first opportunity to inform you of him,

as holding it extremely requisite that you should nip him in the Bud.

But I am my self most concerned for my Fellow-Templers,

Fellow-Students, and Fellow-Labourers in the Law, I mean such of them

as are dignified and distinguish'd under the Denomination of

Hackney-Coachmen. Such aspiring Minds have these ambitious young Men,

that they cannot enjoy themselves out of a Coach-Box. It is however an

unspeakable Comfort to me, that I can now tell you, that some of them

are grown so bashful as to study only in the Nighttime, or in the

Country. The other Night I spied one of our young Gentlemen very

diligent at his Lucubrations in _Fleet-Street_; and by the way, I

should be under some concern, lest this hard Student should one time

or other crack his Brain with studying, but that I am in hopes Nature

has taken care to fortify him in proportion to the great Undertakings

he was design'd for. Another of my Fellow-Templers, on _Thursday_

last, was getting up into his Study at the Bottom of _Grays-Inn-Lane_,

in order, I suppose, to contemplate in the fresh Air. Now, Sir, my

Request is, that the great Modesty of these two Gentlemen may be

recorded as a Pattern to the rest; and if you would but give them two

or three Touches with your own Pen, tho' you might not perhaps prevail

with them to desist entirely from their Meditations, yet I doubt not

but you would at least preserve them from being publick Spectacles of

Folly in our Streets. I say, two or three Touches with your own Pen;

for I have really observed, Mr. SPEC, that those _Spectators_ which

are so prettily laced down the sides with little c's, how instructive

soever they may be, do not carry with them that Authority as the

others. I do again therefore desire, that for the sake of their dear

Necks, you will bestow one Penful of your own Ink upon them. I know

you are loth to expose them; and it is, I must confess, a thousand

Pities that any young Gentleman, who is come of honest Parents, should

be brought to publick Shame: And indeed I should be glad to have them

handled a little tenderly at the first; but if fair means will not

prevail, there is then no other Way to reclaim them, but by making use

of some wholesome Severities; and I think it is better that a Dozen or

two of such good-for-nothing Fellows should be made Examples of, than

that the Reputation of some Hundreds of as hopeful young Gentlemen as

my self should suffer thro' their Folly. It is not, however, for me to

direct you what to do; but, in short, if our Coachmen will drive on

this Trade, the very first of them that I do find meditating in the

Street, I shall make Bold to take the Number of his Chambers, together

with a Note of his Name, and dispatch them to you, that you may

chastise him at your own Discretion.

I am, Dear SPEC.

For ever Yours,

Moses Greenbag,

Esq., if you please.

P. S. '_Tom Hammercloth_, one of our Coachmen, is now pleading at the

Bar at the other end of the Room, but has a little too much Vehemence,

and throws out his Arms too much to take his Audience with a good

Grace.

_To my Loving and Well-beloved_ John Sly, _Haberdasher of Hats and

Tobacconist, between the Cities of_ London _and _Westminster.

Whereas frequent Disorders, Affronts, Indignities, Omissions, and

Trespasses, for which there are no Remedies by any Form of Law, but

which apparently disturb and disquiet the Minds of Men, happen near the

Place of your Residence; and that you are, as well by your commodious

Situation as the good Parts with which you are endowed, properly

qualified for the Observation of the said Offences; I do hereby

authorize and depute you from the hours of Nine in the Morning, till

Four in the Afternoon, to keep a strict Eye upon all Persons and Things

that are convey'd in Coaches, carried in Carts, or walk on Foot from the

City of _London_ to the City of _Westminster_, or from the City of

_Westminster_ to the City of _London_, within the said Hours. You are

therefore not to depart from your Observatory at the end of

_Devereux-Court_ during the said space of each Day; but to observe the

Behaviour of all Persons who are suddenly transported from stamping on

Pebbles to sit at ease in Chariots, what Notice they take of their

Foot-Acquaintance, and send me the speediest Advice, when they are

guilty of overlooking, turning from, or appearing grave and distant to

their old Friends. When Man and Wife are in the same Coach, you are to

see whether they appear pleased or tired with each other, and whether

they carry the due Mein in the Eye of the World between Fondness and

Coldness. You are carefully to behold all such as shall have Addition of

Honour or Riches, and Report whether they preserve the Countenance they

had before such Addition. As to Persons on Foot, you are to be attentive

whether they are pleased with their Condition, and are dress'd suitable

to it; but especially to distinguish such as appear discreet, by a

low-heel Shoe, with the decent Ornament of a Leather-Garter: To write

down the Name of such Country Gentlemen as, upon the Approach of Peace,

have left the Hunting for the Military Cock of the Hat: Of all who

strut, make a Noise, and swear at the Drivers of Coaches to make haste,

when they see it impossible they should pass: Of all young Gentlemen in

Coach-boxes, who labour at a Perfection in what they are sure to be

excelled by the meanest of the People. You are to do all that in you

lies that Coaches and Passengers give way according to the Course of

Business, all the Morning in Term-Time towards _Westminster_, the rest

of the Year towards the _Exchange_. Upon these Directions, together with

other secret Articles herein inclosed, you are to govern your self, and

give Advertisement thereof to me at all convenient and spectatorial

Hours, when Men of Business are to be seen. Hereof you are not to fail.

Given under my Seal of Office.

_The_ SPECTATOR.

T.

* * * * *

No. 527. Tuesday, November 4, 1712.

'Facile invenies, et pejorem, et pejus moratam,

Meliorem neque tu reperes, neque sol videt.'

Plautus in Sticho.

I am so tender of my Women-Readers, that I cannot defer the Publication

of any thing which concerns their Happiness or Quiet. The Repose of a

married Woman is consulted in the first of the following Letters, and

the Felicity of a Maiden Lady in the second. I call it a Felicity to

have the Addresses of an agreeable Man: and I think I have not any where

seen a prettier Application of a Poetical Story than that of his, in

making the Tale of _Cephalus_ and _Procris_ the History-Picture of a Fan

in so gallant a manner as he addresses it. [1] But see the Letters.

_Mr_. SPECTATOR,

'Tis now almost three months since I was in Town about some Business;

and the Hurry of it being over, took Coach one Afternoon, and drove to

see a Relation, who married about six Years ago a wealthy Citizen. I

found her at home, but her Husband gone to the _Exchange_, and

expected back within an Hour at the farthest. After the usual

Salutations of Kindness, and a hundred Questions about Friends in the

Country, we sat down to Piquet, played two or three Games, and drank

Tea. I should have told you that this was my second time of seeing her

since Marriage, but before she lived at the same Town where I went to

School; so that the Plea of a Relation, added to the Innocence of my

Youth, prevailed upon her good Humour to indulge me in a Freedom of

Conversation as often, and oftner, than the strict Discipline of the

School would allow of. You may easily imagine after such an

Acquaintance we might be exceeding merry without any Offence, as in

calling to mind how many Inventions I had been put to in deluding the

Master, how many Hands forged for Excuses, how many times been sick in

perfect Health; for I was then never sick but at School, and only then

because out of her Company. We had whiled away three Hours after this

manner, when I found it past Five; and not expecting her Husband would

return till late, rose up, told her I should go early next Morning for

the Country: She kindly answered she was afraid it would be long

before she saw me again; so I took my leave and parted. Now, Sir, I

had not been got home a Fortnight, when I received a Letter from a

Neighbour of theirs, that ever since that fatal Afternoon the Lady had

been most inhumanly treated, and the Husband publickly stormed that he

was made a Member of too numerous a Society. He had, it seems,

listened most of the time my Cousin and I were together. As jealous

Ears always hear double, so he heard enough to make him mad; and as

jealous Eyes always see thro' Magnifying Glasses, so he was certain it

could not be I whom he had seen, a beardless Stripling, but fancied he

saw a gay Gentleman of the _Temple_, ten Years older than my self; and

for that reason, I presume, durst not come in, nor take any Notice

when I went out. He is perpetually asking his Wife if she does not

think the time long (as she said she should) till she see her Cousin

again. Pray, Sir, what can be done in this Case? I have writ to him to

assure him I was at his House all that afternoon expecting to see him:

His Answer is, 'tis only a Trick of hers, and that he neither can nor

will believe me. The parting Kiss I find mightily nettles him, and

confirms him in all his Errors. _Ben. Johnson_, as I remember, makes a

Foreigner in one of his Comedies, _admire the desperate Valour of the

bold_ English, _who let out their Wives to all Encounters_. The

general Custom of Salutation should Excuse the Favour done me, or you

should lay down Rules when such Distinctions are to be given or

omitted. You cannot imagine, Sir, how troubled I am for this unhappy

Lady's Misfortune; and beg you would insert this Letter, that the

Husband may reflect upon this Accident coolly. It is no small Matter,

the Ease of a virtuous Woman for her whole Life: I know she will

conform to any Regularities (tho' more strict than the common Rules of

our Country require) to which his particular Temper shall incline him

to oblige her. This Accident puts me in mind how generously

_Pisistratus_ the _Athenian_ Tyrant behaved himself on a like

Occasion, when he was instigated by his Wife to put to death a young

Gentleman, because being passionately fond of his Daughter, he kissed

her in publick as he met her in the Street; _What_ (says he) _shall we

do to those who are our Enemies, if we do thus to those who are our

Friends_? I will not trouble you much longer, but am exceedingly

concern'd lest this Accident may cause a virtuous Lady to lead a

miserable Life with a Husband, who has no Grounds for his Jealousy but

what I have faithfully related, and ought to be reckon'd none. 'Tis to

be fear'd too, if at last he sees his Mistake, yet People will be as

slow and unwilling in disbelieving Scandal as they are quick and

forward in believing it. I shall endeavour to enliven this plain

honest Letter, with _Ovid's_ Relation about _Cybele's_ Image. The Ship

wherein it was aboard was stranded at the mouth of the _Tyber_, and

the Men were unable to move it, till _Claudia_, a Virgin, but

suspected of Unchastity, by a slight Pull hawled it in. The Story is

told in the fourth Book of the _Fasti_.

'Parent of Gods, began the weeping Fair,

Reward or punish, but oh! hear my Pray'r.

If Lewdness e'er defil'd my Virgin Bloom,

From Heav'n with Justice I receive my Doom;

But if my Honour yet has known no Stain,

Thou, Goddess, thou my Innocence maintain;

Thou, whom the nicest Rules of Goodness sway'd,

Vouchsafe to follow an unblemish'd Maid.

She spoke, and touch'd the Cord with glad Surprize,

(The truth was witness'd by ten thousand Eyes)

The pitying Goddess easily comply'd,

Follow'd in triumph, and adorn'd her Guide;

While_ Claudia, _blushing still far past Disgrace,

March'd silent on with a slow solemn Pace:

Nor yet from some was all Distrust remov'd,

Tho' Heav'n such Virtue by such Wonders prov'd.'

I am, Sir,

Your very humble Servant,

_Philagnotes_.

_Mr_. SPECTATOR,

'You will oblige a languishing Lover, if you will please to print the

enclosed Verses in your next Paper. If you remember the

_Metamorphosis_, you know _Procris_, the fond Wife of _Cephalus_, is

said to have made her Husband, who delighted in the Sports of the

Wood, a Present of an unerring Javelin. In process of time he was so

much in the Forest, that his Lady suspected he was pursuing some

Nymph, under the pretence of following a Chace more innocent. Under

this Suspicion she hid herself among the Trees, to observe his

Motions. While she lay conceal'd, her Husband, tired with the Labour

of Hunting, came within her hearing. As he was fainting with Heat, he

cried out, _Aura veni; Oh charming Air approach_.

'The unfortunate Wife, taking the Word _Air_ to be the name of a

Woman, began to move among the Bushes; and the Husband believing it a

Deer, threw his Javelin and kill'd her. This History painted on a Fan,

which I presented to a Lady, gave occasion to my growing poetical.

'Come gentle Air! th'_ Æolian _Shepherd said,

While_ Procris _panted in the secret Shade;

Come gentle Air! the fairer_ Delia _cries,

While at her Feet her Swain expiring lies.

Lo the glad Gales o'er all her Beauties stray,

Breathe on her Lips, and in her Bosom play.

In_ Delia's _Hand this Toy is fatal found,

Nor did that fabled Dart more surely wound.

Both Gifts destructive to the Givers prove,

Alike both Lovers fall by those they love:

Yet guiltless too this bright Destroyer lives,

At random wounds, nor knows the Wound she gives.

She views the Story with attentive Eyes,

And pities_ Procris, _while her Lover dies.'

[Footnote 1: This second letter and the verses were from Pope.]

* * * * *

No. 528. Wednesday, November 5, 1712. Steele.

'Dum potuit solite gemitum virtute repressit.'

Ovid.

_Mr_. SPECTATOR,

'I who now write to you, am a Woman loaded with Injuries, and the

Aggravation of my Misfortune is, that they are such which are

overlooked by the Generality of Mankind, and tho' the most afflicting

imaginable, not regarded as such in the general Sense of the World. I

have hid my Vexation from all Mankind; but have now taken Pen, Ink,

and Paper, and am resolv'd to unbosom my self to you, and lay before

you what grieves me and all the Sex. You have very often mentioned

particular Hardships done to this or that Lady; but, methinks, you

have not in any one Speculation directly pointed at the partial

Freedom Men take, the unreasonable Confinement Women are obliged to,

in the only Circumstance in which we are necessarily to have a

Commerce with them, that of Love. The Case of Celibacy is the great

Evil of our Nation; and the Indulgence of the vicious Conduct of Men

in that State, with the Ridicule to which Women are exposed, though

ever so virtuous, if long unmarried, is the Root of the greatest

Irregularities of this Nation. To shew you, Sir, that tho' you never

have given us the Catalogue of a Lady's Library as you promised, we

read good Books of our own chusing, I shall insert on this occasion a

Paragraph or two out of _Echard's Roman History_. In the 44th Page of

the second Volume the Author observes, that _Augustus_, upon his

Return to _Rome_ at the end of a War, received Complaints that too

great a Number of the young Men of Quality were unmarried. The Emperor

thereupon assembled the whole _Equestrian_ Order; and having separated

the Married from the Single, did particular Honours to the former, but

he told the latter, that is to say, Mr. SPECTATOR, he told the

Batchelors,

"That their Lives and Actions had been so peculiar, that he knew not

by what Name to call 'em; not by that of Men, for they performed

nothing that was manly; not by that of Citizens, for the City might

perish notwithstanding their Care; nor by that of _Romans_, for they

designed to extirpate the _Roman_ Name."

Then proceeding to shew his tender Care and hearty Affection for his

People, he further told them,

"That their Course of Life was of such pernicious Consequence to the

Glory and Grandeur of the _Roman_ Nation, that he could not chuse

but tell them, that all other Crimes put together could not equalize

theirs: For they were guilty of Murder, in not suffering those to be

born which should proceed from them; of Impiety, in causing the

Names and Honours of their Ancestors to cease; and of Sacrilege, in

destroying their Kind, which proceeded from the immortal Gods, and

Human Nature, the principal thing consecrated to 'em: Therefore in

this Respect they dissolved the Government, in disobeying its Laws;

betrayed their Country, by making it barren and waste; nay and

demolished their City, in depriving it of Inhabitants. And he was

sensible that all this proceeded not from any kind of Virtue or

Abstinence, but from a Looseness and Wantonness, which ought never

to be encouraged in any Civil Government."

There are no Particulars dwelt upon that let us into the Conduct of

these young Worthies, whom this great Emperor treated with so much

Justice and Indignation; but any one who observes what passes in this

Town, may very well frame to himself a Notion of their Riots and

Debaucheries all Night, and their apparent Preparations for them all

Day. It is not to be doubted but these _Romans_ never passed any of

their Time innocently but when they were asleep, and never slept but

when they were weary and heavy with Excesses, and slept only to

prepare themselves for the Repetition of them. If you did your Duty as

a SPECTATOR, you would carefully examine into the Number of Births,

Marriages, and Burials; and when you had deducted out of your Deaths

all such as went out of the World without marrying, then cast up the

number of both Sexes born within such a Term of Years last past, you

might from the single People departed make some useful Inferences or

Guesses how many there are left unmarried, and raise some useful

Scheme for the Amendment of the Age in that particular. I have not

Patience to proceed gravely on this abominable Libertinism; for I

cannot but reflect, as I am writing to you, upon a certain lascivious

Manner which all our young Gentlemen use in publick, and examine our

Eyes with a Petulancy in their own, which is a downright Affront to

Modesty. A disdainful Look on such an Occasion is return'd with a

Countenance rebuked, but by averting their Eyes from the Woman of

Honour and Decency to some flippant Creature, who will, as the Phrase

is, be kinder. I must set down things as they come into my Head,

without standing upon Order. Ten thousand to one but the gay Gentleman

who stared, at the same time is an House-keeper; for you must know

they have got into a Humour of late of being very regular in their

Sins, and a young Fellow shall keep his four Maids and three Footmen

with the greatest Gravity imaginable. There are no less than six of

these venerable House-keepers of my Acquaintance. This Humour among

young Men of Condition is imitated by all the World below them, and a

general Dissolution of Manners arises from the one Source of

Libertinism, without Shame or Reprehension in the Male Youth. It is

from this one Fountain that so many Beautiful helpless young Women are

sacrific'd and given up to Lewdness, Shame, Poverty and Disease. It is

to this also that so many excellent young Women, who might be Patterns

of conjugal Affection and Parents of a worthy Race, pine under unhappy

Passions for such as have not Attention enough to observe, or Virtue

enough to prefer them to their common Wenches. Now, _Mr_. SPECTATOR, I

must be free to own to you, that I my self suffer a tasteless insipid

Being, from a Consideration I have for a Man who would not, as he has

said in my hearing, resign his Liberty, as he calls it, for all the

Beauty and Wealth the whole Sex is possessed of. Such Calamities as

these would not happen, if it could possibly be brought about, that by

fining Batchelors as Papists Convict, or the like, they were

distinguished to their disadvantage from the rest of the World, who

fall in with the Measures of Civil Society. Lest you should think I

speak this as being, according to the senseless rude Phrase, a

malicious old Maid, I shall acquaint you I am a Woman of Condition not

now three and twenty, and have had Proposals from at least ten

different Men, and the greater Number of them have upon the Upshot

refused me. Something or other is always amiss when the Lover takes to

some new Wench: A Settlement is easily excepted against; and there is

very little Recourse to avoid the vicious Part of our Youth, but

throwing one's self away upon some lifeless Blockhead, who tho' he is

without Vice, is also without Virtue. Now-a-days we must be contented

if we can get Creatures which are not bad, good are not to be

expected. Mr. SPECTATOR, I sat near you the other Day, and think I did

not displease you Spectatorial Eyesight; which I shall be a better

Judge of when I see whether you take notice of these Evils your own

way, or print this Memorial dictated from the disdainful heavy Heart

of,

_SIR_,

_Your most obedient humble Servant_,

Rachael Welladay.

T.

* * * * *

No. 529. Thursday, November 6, 1712. Addison.

'Singula quæque locum teneant sortita decenter.'

Hor.

Upon the hearing of several late Disputes concerning Rank and

Precedence, I could not forbear amusing my self with some Observations,

which I have made upon the Learned World, as to this great Particular.

By the Learned World I here mean at large, all those who are any way

concerned in Works of Literature, whether in the Writing, Printing or

Repeating Part. To begin with the Writers; I have observed that the

Author of a _Folio_, in all Companies and Conversations, sets himself

above the Author of a _Quarto_; the Author of a _Quarto_ above the

Author of an _Octavo_; and so on, by a gradual Descent and

Subordination, to an Author in _Twenty Fours_. This Distinction is so

well observed, that in an Assembly of the Learned, I have seen a _Folio_

Writer place himself in an Elbow-Chair, when the Author of a

_Duo-decimo_ has, out of a just Deference to his superior Quality,

seated himself upon a Squabb. In a word, Authors are usually ranged in

Company after the same manner as their Works are upon a Shelf.

The most minute Pocket-Author hath beneath him the Writers of all

Pamphlets, or Works that are only stitched. As for the Pamphleteer, he

takes place of none but of the Authors of single Sheets, and of that

Fraternity who publish their Labours on certain Days, or on every Day of

the Week. I do not find that the Precedency among the Individuals, in

this latter Class of Writers, is yet settled.

For my own part, I have had so strict a regard to the Ceremonial which

prevails in the Learned World, that I never presumed to take place of a

Pamphleteer till my daily Papers were gathered into those two first

Volumes, which have already appeared. After which, I naturally jumped

over the Heads not only of all Pamphleteers, but of every _Octavo_

Writer in _Great Britain_, that had written but one Book. I am also

informed by my Bookseller, that six _Octavo's_ have at all times been

look'd upon as an Equivalent to a _Folio_, which I take notice of the

rather, because I would not have the Learned World surprized, if after

the Publication of half a dozen Volumes I take my Place accordingly.

When my scattered Forces are thus rallied, and reduced into regular

Bodies, I flatter my self that I shall make no despicable Figure at the

Head of them.

Whether these Rules, which have been received time out of Mind in the

Common-Wealth of Letters, were not originally established with an Eye to

our Paper Manufacture, I shall leave to the Discussion of others, and

shall only remark further in this place, that all Printers and

Booksellers take the Wall of one another, according to the

abovementioned Merits of the Authors to whom they respectively belong.

I come now to that point of Precedency which is settled among the three

Learned Professions, by the Wisdom of our Laws. I need not here take

Notice of the Rank which is allotted to every Doctor in each of these

Professions, who are all of them, though not so high as Knights, yet a

Degree above Squires; this last Order of Men being the illiterate Body

of the Nation, are consequently thrown together into a Class below the

three Learned Professions. I mention this for the sake of several Rural

'Squires, whose Reading does not rise so high as to _the Present State

of England_, and who are often apt to usurp that Precedency which by the

Laws of their Country is not due to them. Their Want of Learning, which

has planted them in this Station, may in some measure extenuate their

Misdemeanour; and our Professors ought to pardon them when they offend

in this Particular, considering that they are in a State of Ignorance,

or, as we usually say, do not know their Right Hand from their Left.

There is another Tribe of Persons who are Retainers to the Learned

World, and who regulate themselves upon all Occasions by several Laws

peculiar to their Body. I mean the Players or Actors of both Sexes.

Among these it is a standing and uncontroverted Principle, that a

Tragedian always takes place of a Comedian; and 'tis very well known the

merry Drolls who make us laugh are always placed at the lower End of the

Table, and in every Entertainment give way to the Dignity of the Buskin.

It is a Stage Maxim, _Once a King, and always a King_. For this Reason

it would be thought very absurd in Mr. Bullock, notwithstanding the

Height and Gracefulness of his Person, to sit at the Right Hand of an

Hero, tho' he were but five Foot high. The same Distinction is observed

among the Ladies of the Theatre. Queens and Heroines preserve their Rank

in private Conversation, while those who are Waiting-Women and Maids of

Honour upon the Stage, keep their Distance also behind the Scenes.

I shall only add, that by a Parity of Reason, all Writers of Tragedy

look upon it as their due to be seated, served, or saluted before Comick

Writers: Those who deal in Tragi-Comedy usually taking their Seats

between the Authors of either Side. There has been a long Dispute for

Precedency between the Tragick and Heroick Poets. _Aristotle_ would have

the latter yield the _Pas_ to the former, but Mr. _Dryden_ and many

others would never submit to this Decision. Burlesque Writers pay the

same Deference to the Heroick, as Comick Writers to their Serious

Brothers in the Drama.

By this short Table of Laws, Order is kept up, and Distinction preserved

in the whole Republick of Letters.

O.

* * * * *

No. 530. Friday, November 7, 1712. Addison.

'Sic visum Veneri; cui placet impares

Formas atque animos sub juga ahenea

Sævo mittere cum joco.'

Hor.

It is very usual for those who have been severe upon Marriage, in some

part or other of their Lives to enter into the Fraternity which they

have ridiculed, and to see their Raillery return upon their own Heads. I

scarce ever knew a Woman-hater that did not, sooner or later, pay for

it. Marriage, which is a Blessing to another Man, falls upon such a one

as a Judgment. Mr. _Congreve's Old Batchelor_ [1] is set forth to us

with much Wit and Humour, as an Example of this kind. In short, those

who have most distinguished themselves by railing at the Sex in general,

very often make an honourable Amends, by chusing one of the most

worthless Persons of it, for a Companion and Yoke-fellow. _Hymen_ takes

his Revenge in kind, on those who turn his Mysteries into Ridicule.

My Friend _Will Honeycomb_, who was so unmercifully witty upon the

Women, in a couple of Letters, which I lately communicated to the

Publick, has given the Ladies ample Satisfaction by marrying a Farmer's

Daughter; a piece of News which came to our Club by the last Post. The

_Templer_ is very positive that he has married a Dairy-maid: But _Will_,

in his Letter to me on this Occasion, sets the best Face upon the Matter

that he can, and gives a more tollerable Account of his Spouse. I must

confess I suspected something more than ordinary, when upon opening the

Letter I found that _Will_ was fallen off from his former Gayety, having

changed _Dear Spec_. which was his usual Salute at the Beginning of the

Letter, into _My Worthy Friend_, and subscribed himself in the latter

End of it at full length _William Honeycomb_. In short, the gay, the

loud, the vain _Will Honeycomb_, who had made Love to every great

Fortune that has appeared in Town for [above [2]] thirty Years together,

and boasted of Favours from Ladies whom he had never seen, is at length

wedded to a plain Country Girl.

His Letter gives us the Picture of a converted Rake. The sober Character

of the Husband is dashed with the Man of the Town, and enlivened with

those little Cant-phrases which have made my Friend _Will_ often thought

very pretty Company. But let us hear what he says for himself.

_My Worthy Friend_,

I question not but you, and the rest of my Acquaintance, wonder that

I, who have lived in the Smoak and Gallantries of the Town for thirty

Years together, should all on a sudden grow fond of a Country Life.

Had not my Dog [of a [3]] Steward run away as he did, without making

up his Accounts, I had still been immersed in Sin and Sea-Coal. But

since my late forced Visit to my Estate, I am so pleased with it, that

I am resolved to live and die upon it. I am every Day abroad among my

Acres, and can scarce forbear filling my Letter with Breezes, Shades,

Flowers, Meadows, and purling Streams. The Simplicity of Manners,

which I have heard you so often speak of, and which appears here in

Perfection, charms me wonderfully. As an Instance of it, I must

acquaint you, and by your means the whole Club, that I have lately

married one of my Tenants Daughters. She is born of honest Parents,

and though she has no Portion, she has a great deal of Virtue. The

natural Sweetness and Innocence of her Behaviour, the Freshness of her

Complection, the unaffected Turn of her Shape and Person, shot me

through and through every time I saw her, and did more Execution upon

me in Grogram, than the greatest Beauty in Town or Court had ever done

in Brocade. In short, she is such an one as promises me a good Heir to

my Estate; and if by her means I cannot leave to my Children what are

falsely called the Gifts of Birth; high Titles and Alliances: I hope

to convey to them the more real and valuable Gifts of Birth; strong

Bodies, and Healthy Constitutions. As for your fine Women, I need not

tell thee that I know them. I have had my share in their Graces, but

no more of that. It shall be my Business hereafter to live the Life of

an honest Man, and to act as becomes the Master of a Family. I

question not but I shall draw upon me the Raillery of the Town, and be

treated to the Tune of the _Marriage-Hater match'd_; but I am prepared

for it. I have been as witty upon others in my time. To tell thee

truly, I saw such a Tribe of Fashionable young fluttering Coxcombs

shot up, that I did not think my Post of an _homme de ruelle_ any

longer tenable. I felt a certain Stiffness in my Limbs, which entirely

destroyed that Jauntyness of Air I was once Master of. Besides, for I

may now confess my Age to thee, I have been eight and forty above

these Twelve Years. Since my Retirement into the Country will make a

Vacancy in the Club, I could wish you would fill up my Place with my

Friend _Tom Dapperwit_. He has an infinite deal of Fire, and knows the

Town. For my own part, as I have said before, I shall endeavour to

live hereafter suitable to a Man in my Station, as a prudent Head of a

Family, a good Husband, a careful Father (when it shall so happen) and

as

_Your most Sincere Friend,

and Humble Servant_,

WILLIAM HONEYCOMB.

O.

[Footnote 1: Heartwell in the play of the _Old Batchelor_. Addison here

continues the winding up of the _Spectator_ by finally disposing of

another member of the club.]

[Footnote 2: [about]]

[Footnote 3: [the]]

* * * * *

No. 531. Saturday, November 8. 1712. Addison.

'Qui mare et terras variisque mundum

Temperat horis:

Unde nil majus generatur ipso,

Nec viget quicquam simile aut secundum.'

Hor.

Simonides being ask'd by _Dionysius_ the Tyrant what God was, desired a

Day's time to consider of it before he made his Reply. When the Day was

expired, he desired two Days; and afterwards, instead of returning his

Answer, demanded still double the Time to consider of it. This great

Poet and Philosopher, the more he contemplated the Nature of the Deity,

found that he waded but the more out of his Depth; and that he lost

himself in the Thought, instead of finding an End of it. [1]

If we consider the Idea which wise Men, by the Light of Reason, have

framed of the Divine Being, it amounts to this: That he has in him all

the Perfection of a Spiritual Nature; and since we have no Notion of any

kind of spiritual Perfection but what we discover in our own Souls, we

joyn Infinitude to each kind of these Perfections, and what is a Faculty

in an human Soul becomes an Attribute in God. _We_ exist in Place and

Time, the Divine Being fills the Immensity of Space with his Presence,

and Inhabits Eternity. _We_ are possessed of a little Power and a little

Knowledge, the Divine Being is Almighty and Omniscient. In short, by

adding Infinity to any kind of Perfection we enjoy, and by joyning all

these different kinds of Perfections in one Being, we form our Idea of

the great Sovereign of Nature.

Though every one who thinks must have made this Observation, I shall

produce Mr. _Locke's_ Authority to the same purpose, out of his Essay on

Human Understanding.

'If we examine the _Idea_ we have of the incomprehensible Supreme

Being, we shall find, that we come by it the same way; and that the

complex _Ideas_ we have both of God and separate Spirits, are made up

of the simple _Ideas_ we receive from _Reflection: v. g._ having from

what we experiment in our selves, got the _Ideas_ of Existence and

Duration, of Knowledge and Power, of Pleasure and Happiness, and of

several other Qualities and Powers, which it is better to have, than

to be without; when we would frame an _Idea_ the most suitable we can

to the Supreme Being, we enlarge every one of these with our _Idea_ of

Infinity; and so putting them together, make our Complex _Idea of

God_.' [2]

It is not impossible that there may be many kinds of Spiritual

Perfection, besides those which are lodged in an human Soul; but it is

impossible that we should have Ideas of any kinds of Perfection, except

those of which we have some small Rays and short imperfect Strokes in

our selves. It would be therefore a very high Presumption to determine

whether the Supream Being has not many more Attributes than those which

enter into our Conceptions of him. This is certain, that if there be any

kind of Spiritual Perfection which is not marked out in an human Soul,

it belongs in its Fulness to the Divine Nature.

Several eminent Philosophers have imagined that the Soul, in her

separate State, may have new Faculties springing up in her, which she is

not capable of exerting during her present Union with the Body; and

whether these Faculties may not correspond with other Attributes in the

Divine Nature, and open to us hereafter new Matter of Wonder and

Adoration, we are altogether ignorant. This, as I have said before, we

ought to acquiesce in, that the Sovereign Being, the great Author of

Nature, has in him all possible Perfection, as well in _Kind_ as in

_Degree_; to speak according to our Methods of [conceiving. [3]] I shall

only add under this Head, that when we have raised our Notion of this

Infinite Being as high as it is possible for the Mind of Man to go, it

will fall infinitely short of what He really is. _There is no end of his

Greatness_: The most exalted Creature he has made, is only capable of

adoring it, none but himself can comprehend it.

The Advice of the Son of _Sirach_ is very just and sublime in this

Light.

'By his Word all things consist. We may speak much, and yet come

short: wherefore in sum, he is all. How shall we be able to magnify

him? For he is great above all his Works. The Lord is terrible and

very great; and marvellous in his Power. When you glorify the Lord,

exalt him as much as you can; for even yet will he far exceed. And

when you exalt him, put forth all your strength, and be not weary; for

you can never go far enough. Who hath seen him, that he might tell us?

And who can magnify him as he is? There are yet hid greater things

than these be, for we have seen but a few of his Works.' [4]

I have here only considered the Supreme Being by the Light of Reason and

Philosophy. If we would see him in all the Wonders of his Mercy we must

have recourse to Revelation, which represents him to us, not only as

infinitely Great and Glorious, but as infinitely Good and Just in his

Dispensations towards Man. But as this is a Theory which falls under

every one's Consideration, tho' indeed it can never be sufficiently

considered, I shall here only take notice of that habitual Worship and

Veneration which we ought to pay to this Almighty Being. We should often

refresh our Minds with the Thought of him, and annihilate our selves

before him, in the Contemplation of our own Worthlessness, and of his

transcendent Excellency and Perfection. This would imprint in our Minds

such a constant and uninterrupted Awe and Veneration as that which I am

here recommending, and which is in reality a kind of incessant Prayer,

and reasonable Humiliation of the Soul before him who made it.

This would effectually kill in us all the little Seeds of Pride, Vanity

and Self-conceit, which are apt to shoot up in the Minds of such whose

Thoughts turn more on those comparative Advantages which they enjoy over

some of their Fellow-Creatures, than on that infinite Distance which is

placed between them and the Supreme Model of all Perfection. It would

likewise quicken our Desires and Endeavours of uniting our selves to him

by all the Acts of Religion and Virtue.

Such an habitual Homage to the Supreme Being would, in a particular

manner, banish from among us that prevailing Impiety of using his Name

on the most trivial Occasions.

I find the following Passage in an excellent Sermon, preached at the

Funeral of a Gentleman who was an Honour to his Country, and a more

diligent as well as successful Enquirer into the Works of Nature, than

any other our Nation has ever produced. [5]

'He had the profoundest Veneration for the Great God of Heaven and

Earth that I have ever observed in any Person. The very Name of God

was never mentioned by him without a Pause and a visible Stop in his

Discourse; in which, one that knew him most particularly above twenty

Years, has told me, that he was so exact, that he does not remember to

have observed him once to fail in it.'

Every one knows the Veneration which was paid by the _Jews_ to a Name so

great, wonderful and holy. They would not let it enter even into their

religious Discourses. What can we then think of those who make use of so

tremendous a Name in the ordinary Expressions of their Anger, Mirth, and

most impertinent Passions? Of those who admit it into the most familiar

Questions and Assertions, ludicrous Phrases and Works of Humour? not to

mention those who violate it by solemn Perjuries? It would be an Affront

to Reason to endeavour to set forth the Horror and Prophaneness of such

a Practice. The very mention of it exposes it sufficiently to those in

whom the Light of Nature, not to say Religion, is not utterly

extinguished.

O.

[Footnote 1: This story is taken from Book I. of Cicero 'De Naturâ

Deorum'.]

[Footnote 2: 'Human Understanding', Book II. ch. xxiii. § 33.]

[Footnote 3: [conceiving him.]]

[Footnote 4: Ecclus. xliii. 26-32.]

[Footnote 5: Bishop Burnet's sermon at the funeral of the Hon. Robert

Boyle (who died in 1691).]

* * * * *

No. 532. Monday, November 10, 1712. Steele.

'--Fungor vice cotis, acutum

Reddere quæ ferrum valet, exsors ipsa secandi.'

Hor.

It is a very honest Action to be studious to produce other Men's Merit;

and I make no scruple of saying I have as much of this Temper as any Man

in the World. It would not be a thing to be bragged of, but that it is

what any Man may be Master of who will take Pains enough for it. Much

Observation of the Unworthiness in being pained at the Excellence of

another, will bring you to a Scorn of yourself for that Unwillingness:

And when you have got so far, you will find it a greater Pleasure than

you ever before knew, to be zealous in promoting the Fame and Welfare of

the Praise-worthy. I do not speak this as pretending to be a mortified

self-denying Man, but as one who has turned his Ambition into a right

Channel. I claim to my self the Merit of having extorted excellent

Productions from a Person of the greatest Abilities, [1] who would not

have let them appear by any other Means; to have animated a few young

Gentlemen into worthy Pursuits, who will be a Glory to our Age; and at

all Times, and by all possible Means in my Power, undermined the

Interests of Ignorance, Vice, and Folly, and attempted to substitute in

their Stead, Learning, Piety, and good Sense. It is from this honest

Heart that I find myself honoured as a Gentleman-Usher to the Arts and

Sciences. Mr. _Tickell_ and Mr. _Pope_ have, it seems, this Idea of me.

The former has writ me an excellent Paper of Verses in Praise, forsooth,

of my self; and the other enclosed for my perusal an admirable Poem, [2]

which, I hope, will shortly see the Light. In the mean time I cannot

suppress any Thought of his, but insert his Sentiment about the dying

Words of _Adrian_. I won't determine in the Case he mentions; but have

thus much to say in favour of his Argument, that many of his own Works

which I have seen, convince me that very pretty and very sublime

Sentiments may be lodged in the same Bosom without diminution to its

Greatness.

_Mr._ SPECTATOR,

'I was the other day in Company with five or six Men of some Learning;

where chancing to mention the famous Verses which the Emperor _Adrian_

spoke on his Death-bed, they were all agreed that 'twas a Piece of

Gayety unworthy that Prince in those Circumstances. I could not but

dissent from this Opinion: Methinks it was by no means a gay, but a

very serious Soliloquy to his Soul at the Point of his Departure: in

which Sense I naturally took the Verses at my first reading them when

I was very young, and before I knew what Interpretation the World

generally put upon them:

'_Animula vagula, blandula,

Hospes Comesque corporis,

Quæ nunc abibis in loca?

Pallidula, rigida, nudula,

Nec (ut soles) dabis Joca!_

'_Alas, my Soul! thou pleasing Companion of this Body, thou fleeting

thing that art now deserting it! whither art thou flying? to what

unknown Region? Thou art all trembling, fearful, and pensive. Now

what is become of thy former Wit and Humour? thou shall jest and be

gay no more._

I confess I cannot apprehend where lies the Trifling in all this; 'tis

the most natural and obvious Reflection imaginable to a dying Man: and

if we consider the Emperor was a Heathen, that Doubt concerning the

Future Fate of his Soul will seem so far from being the Effect of Want

of Thought, that 'twas scarce reasonable he should think otherwise;

not to mention that here is a plain Confession included of his Belief

in its Immortality. The diminutive Epithets of _Vagula, Blandula_, and

the rest, appear not to me as Expressions of Levity, but rather of

Endearment and Concern; such as we find in _Catullus_, and the Authors

of _Hendeca-syllabi_ after him, where they are used to express the

utmost Love and Tenderness for their Mistresses--If you think me right

in my Notion of the last Words of _Adrian_, be pleased to insert this

in the _Spectator_; if not, to suppress it.' [3]

_I am_, &c.

To the supposed Author of the 'Spectator'.

'In Courts licentious, and a shameless Stage,

How long the War shall Wit with Virtue wage?

Enchanted by this prostituted Fair,

Our Youth run headlong in the fatal Snare;

In height of Rapture clasp unheeded Pains,

And suck Pollution thro' their tingling Veins.

Thy spotless Thoughts unshock'd the Priest may hear,

And the pure Vestal in her Bosom wear.

To conscious Blushes and diminish'd Pride,

Thy Glass betrays what treach'rous Love would hide;

Nor harsh thy Precepts, but infused by stealth,

Please while they cure, and cheat us into Health.

Thy Works in_ Chloe's _Toilet gain a part,

And with his Tailor share the the Fopling's Heart:

Lash'd in thy Satire, the penurious Cit

Laughs at himself, and finds no harm in Wit:

From Felon Gamesters the raw Squire is free,

And _Britain_ owes her rescu'd Oaks to thee.

His Miss the frolick Viscount dreads to toast,

Or his third Cure the shallow Templar boast;

And the rash Fool who scorn'd the beaten Road,

Dares quake at Thunder, and confess his God.

The brainless Stripling,--who, expell'd to Town,

Damn'd the stiff College and pedantick Gown,

Aw'd by thy Name, is dumb, and thrice a Week

Spells uncouth _Latin,_ and pretends to _Greek._

A sauntring Tribe! such born to wide Estates,

With Yea and No in Senates hold Debates:

At length despis'd, each to his Fields retires,

First with the Dogs, and King amidst the Squires;

From Pert to Stupid sinks supinely down,

In Youth a Coxcomb, and in Age a Clown.

Such Readers scorned, thou wings't thy daring Flight

Above the Stars, and tread'st the Fields of Light;

Fame, Heav'n and Hell, are thy exalted Theme,

And Visions such as _Jove_ himself might dream;

Man sunk to Slav'ry, tho' to Glory born,

Heaven's Pride when upright, and depraved his Scorn.

Such Hints alone could _British Virgil_ lend,

And thou alone deserve from such a Friend:

A Debt so borrow'd, is illustrious Shame,

And Fame when shar'd with him is double Fame.

So flush'd with Sweets, by Beauty's Queen bestow'd,

With more than mortal Charms. _Æneas_ glow'd.

Such genrous Strifes _Eugene_ and _Marlbro'_ try,

And as in Glory, so in Friendship vie.

Permit these Lines by Thee to live--nor blame

A Muse that pants and languishes for Fame;

That fears to sink when humbler Themes she sings,

Lost in the Mass of mean forgotten things.

Receiv'd by Thee, I prophesy my Rhymes

The Praise of Virgins in succeeding Times:

Mix'd with thy Works, their Life no Bounds shall see,

But stand protected, as inspir'd by thee.

So some weak Shoot, which else would poorly rise,

_Jove's_ Tree adopts, and lifts him to the Skies;

Through the new Pupil fost'ring Juices flow,

Thrust forth the Gems, and give the Flow'rs to blow

Aloft; immortal reigns the Plant unknown,

With borrow'd Life, and Vigour not his own.' [4]

_To the_ SPECTATOR-GENERAL.

_Mr._ John Sly _humbly sheweth,_

'That upon reading the Deputation given to the said Mr. _John Sly_,

all Persons passing by his Observatory behaved themselves with the

same Decorum, as if your Honour your self had been present.

That your said Officer is preparing, according to your Honour's secret

Instructions, Hats for the several kind of Heads that make Figures in

the Realms of _Great Britain_, with Cocks significant of their Powers

and Faculties.

That your said Officer has taken due Notice of your Instructions and

Admonitions concerning the Internals of the Head from the outward Form

of the same. His Hats for Men of the Faculties of Law and Physick do

but just turn up, to give a little Life to their Sagacity; his

military Hats glare full in the Face; and he has prepared a familiar

easy Cock for all good Companions between the above-mentioned

Extreams. For this End he has consulted the most Learned of his

Acquaintance for the true Form and Dimensions of the _Lepidum Caput_,

and made a Hat fit for it.

Your said Officer does further represent, That the young Divines about

Town are many of them got into the Cock Military, and desires your

Instructions therein.

That the Town has been for several Days very well behaved; and further

your said Officer saith not.

T.

[Footnote 1: Addison.]

[Footnote 2: The Temple of Fame.]

[Footnote 3: Pope republished this in his 'Letters' in 1735, adding a

metrical translation of Adrian's lines:

Ah, fleeting spirit! wandering fire,

That long hast warm'd my tender breast,

Must thou no more this frame inspire?

No more a pleasing, cheerful guest?

Whither, ah, whither art thou flying,

To what dark, undiscovered shore?

Thou seem'st all trembling, shivering, dying,

And wit and humour are no more.

Two days after the insertion of this letter from Pope, Steele wrote to

the young poet (Nov. 12):

'I have read over your "Temple of Fame" twice; and cannot find

anything amiss of weight enough to call a fault, but see in it a

thousand thousand beauties. Mr. Addison shall see it to-morrow: after

his perusal of it I will let you know his thoughts. I desire you would

let me know whether you are at leisure or not? I have a design which I

shall open a month or two hence, with the assistance of a few like

yourself. If your thoughts are unengaged I shall explain myself

further.'

This design was the _Guardian_, which Steele was about to establish as

the successor to the _Spectator_; and here we find him at work on the

foundations of his new journal while the finishing strokes are being

given to the _Spectator_. Pope in his reply to Steele said (Nov. 16):

'I shall be very ready and glad to contribute to any design that tends

to the advantage of mankind, which, I am sure, all yours do. I wish I

had but as much capacity as leisure, for I am perfectly idle (a sign I

have not much capacity). If you will entertain the best opinion of me,

be pleased to think me your friend. Assure Mr. Addison of my most

faithful service; of every one's esteem he must be assured already.'

About a fortnight later, returning to the subject of Adrian's verses,

Pope wrote to Steele in reply to subsequent private discussion of the

subject (Nov. 29):

'I am sorry you published that notion about Adrian's verses as mine;

had I imagined you would use my name, I should have expressed my

sentiments with more modesty and diffidence. I only wrote to have your

opinion, and not to publish my own, which I distrusted.'

Then after defending his view of the poem, and commenting upon the Latin

diminutives, he adds,

'perhaps I should be much better pleased if I were told you called me

"your little friend," than if you complimented me with the title of "a

great genius," or "an eminent hand," as Jacob [Tonson] does all his

authors.'

Steele's genial reply produced from Pope, as final result of the above

letter to the _Spectator_, one of the most popular of his short pieces.

Steele wrote (Dec. 4):

'This is to desire of you that you would please to make an ode as of a

cheerful dying spirit; that is to say, the Emperor Adrian's "_animula

vagula_," put into two or three stanzas for music. If you will comply

with this, and send me word so, you will very particularly oblige

RICHARD STEELE.'

This was written two days before the appearance of the last number of

his _Spectator_. Pope answered,

'I do not send you word I will do, but have already done the thing you

desire of me,'

and sent his poem of three stanzas, called THE DYING CHRISTIAN TO HIS

SOUL.

'Vital spark of heavenly flame,' &c.

These two letters were published by Warburton, but are not given by Pope

in the edition of his correspondence, published in 1737, and the poem

has no place in the collected works of 1717. It has been said that if

the piece had been written in 1712 Steele would have inserted it in the

_Spectator_. But it was not received until the last number of the

_Spectator_ had been published. Three months then elapsed before the

appearance of the _Guardian_, to which Pope contributed eight papers.

Pope, on his part, would be naturally unwilling to connect with the poem

the few words he had sent with it to Steele, saying,

'You have it (as Cowley calls it) just warm from the brain. It came to

me the first moment I waked this morning. Yet, you will see, it was

not so absolutely inspiration, but that I had in my head not only the

verses of Adrian, but the fine fragment of Sappho, &c.'

The &c. being short for Thomas Flatman, whose name would not have stood

well by that of Sappho, though he was an accomplished man in his day,

who gave up law for poetry and painting, and died in 1688, one of the

best miniature painters of his time, and the author of 'Songs and

Poems,' published in 1674, which in ten years went through three

editions. Flatman had written:

'_When on my sick-bed I languish,

Full of sorrow, full of anguish,

Fainting, gasping, trembling, crying,

Panting, groaning, speechless, dying;

Methinks I hear some gentle spirit say,

"Be not fearful, come away_!"']

[Footnote 4: From Thomas Tickell.]

* * * * *

No. 533. Tuesday, November 11, 1712. Steele.

'Immo duas dabo, inquit ille, una si parum est:

Et si duarum pænitebit, addentur duæ.'

Plaut.

_To the_ SPECTATOR.

_SIR,_

'You have often given us very excellent Discourses against that

unnatural Custom of Parents, in forcing their Children to marry

contrary to their Inclinations. My own Case, without further Preface,

I will lay before you, and leave you to judge of it. My Father and

Mother both being in declining Years, would fain see me, their eldest

Son, as they call it settled. I am as much for that as they can be;

but I must be settled, it seems, not according to my own, but their

liking. Upon this account I am teaz'd every Day, because I have not

yet fallen in love, in spite of Nature, with one of a neighbouring

Gentleman's Daughters; for out of their abundant Generosity, they give

me the choice of four. _Jack_, begins my Father, Mrs. _Catherine_ is a

fine Woman--Yes, Sir, but she is rather too old--She will make the

more discreet Manager, Boy. Then my Mother plays her part. Is not Mrs.

_Betty_ exceeding fair? Yes, Madam, but she is of no Conversation; she

has no Fire, no agreeable Vivacity; she neither speaks nor looks with

Spirit. True, Son; but for those very Reasons, she will be an easy,

soft, obliging, tractable Creature. After all, cries an old Aunt, (who

belongs to the Class of those who read Plays with Spectacles on) what

think you, Nephew, of proper Mrs. _Dorothy_? What do I think? why I

think she cannot be above six foot two inches high. Well, well, you

may banter as long as you please, but Height of Stature is commanding

and majestick. Come, come, says a Cousin of mine in the Family, I'll

fit him; _Fidelia_ is yet behind--Pretty Miss _Fiddy_ must please

you--Oh! your very humble Servant, dear Cos. she is as much too young

as her eldest Sister is too old. Is it so indeed, quoth she, good Mr.

_Pert_? You who are but barely turned of twenty two, and Miss Fiddy in

half a Year's time will be in her Teens, and she is capable of

learning any thing. Then she will be so observant; she'll cry perhaps

now and then, but never be angry. Thus they will think for me in this

matter, wherein I am more particularly concerned than any Body else.

If I name any Woman in the World, one of these Daughters has certainly

the same Qualities. You see by these few Hints, _Mr._ SPECTATOR, what

a comfortable Life I lead. To be still more open and free with you, I

have been passionately fond of a young Lady (whom give me leave to

call _Miranda_) now for these three Years. I have often urged the

Matter home to my Parents with all the Submission of a Son, but the

Impatience of a Lover. Pray, Sir, think of three Years; what

inexpressible Scenes of Inquietude, what Variety of Misery must I have

gone thro' in three long whole Years? _Miranda's_ Fortune is equal to

those I have mention'd; but her Relations are not Intimates with mine.

Ah! there's the Rub. _Miranda's_ Person, Wit, and Humour, are what the

nicest Fancy could imagine; and though we know you to be so elegant a

Judge of Beauty, yet there is none among all your various Characters

of fine Women preferable to _Miranda_. In a Word, she is never guilty

of doing any thing but one amiss, (if she can be thought to do amiss

by me) in being as blind to my Faults, as she is to her own

Perfections.

_I am, SIR,

Your very humble obedient Servant,_

Dustererastus.

_Mr._ SPECTATOR,

'When you spent so much time as you did lately in censuring the

ambitious young Gentlemen who ride in Triumph through Town and Country

in Coach-boxes, I wished you had employed those Moments in

consideration of what passes sometimes within-side of those Vehicles.

I am sure I suffered sufficiently by the Insolence and Ill-breeding of

some Persons who travelled lately with me in a Stage-Coach out of

_Essex_ to _London_. I am sure, when you have heard what I have to

say, you will think there are Persons under the Character of Gentlemen

that are fit to be no where else but in the Coach-box. Sir, I am a

young Woman of a sober and religious Education, and have preserved

that Character; but on Monday was Fortnight it was my Misfortune to

come to _London_. I was no sooner clapt in the Coach, but to my great

Surprize, two Persons in the Habit of Gentlemen attack'd me with such

indecent Discourse as I cannot repeat to you, so you may conclude not

fit for me to hear. I had no relief but the Hopes of a speedy End of

my short Journey. Sir, form to your self what a Persecution this must

needs be to a virtuous and a chaste Mind; and in order to your proper

handling such a Subject, fancy your Wife or Daughter, if you had any,

in such Circumstances, and what Treatment you would think then due to

such Dragoons. One of them was called a Captain, and entertained us

with nothing but silly stupid Questions, or lewd Songs, all the way.

Ready to burst with Shame and Indignation, I repined that Nature had

not allowed us as easily to shut our Ears as our Eyes. But was not

this a kind of Rape? Why should there be Accessaries in Ravishment any

more than Murder? Why should not every Contributor to the Abuse of

Chastity suffer Death? I am sure these shameless Hell-hounds deserved

it highly. Can you exert your self better than on such an Occasion? If

you do not do it effectually, I 'll read no more of your Papers. Has

every impertinent Fellow a Privilege to torment me, who pay my

Coach-hire as well as he? Sir, pray consider us in this respect as the

weakest Sex, and have nothing to defend our selves; and I think it as

Gentleman-like to challenge a Woman to fight, as to talk obscenely in

her Company, especially when she has not power to stir. Pray let me

tell you a Story which you can make fit for publick View. I knew a

Gentleman, who having a very good Opinion of the Gentlemen of the

Army, invited ten or twelve of them to sup with him; and at the same

time invited two or three Friends, who were very severe against the

Manners and Morals of Gentlemen of that Profession. It happened one of

them brought two Captains of his Regiment newly come into the Army,

who at first Onset engaged the Company with very lewd Healths and

suitable Discourse. You may easily imagine the Confusion of the

Entertainer, who finding some of his Friends very uneasy, desired to

tell them a Story of a great Man, one Mr, _Locke_ (whom I find you

frequently mention) that being invited to dine with the then Lords

_Hallifax, Anglesey_, and _Shaftsbury_; immediately after Dinner,

instead of Conversation, the Cards were called for, where the bad or

good Success produced the usual Passions of Gaming. Mr. _Locke_

retiring to a Window, and writing, my Lord _Anglesey_ desired to know

what he was writing: _Why, my Lords_, answered he, _I could not sleep

last Night for the Pleasure and Improvement I expected from the

Conversation of the greatest Men of the Age_. This so sensibly stung

them, that they gladly compounded to throw their Cards in the Fire if

he would his Paper, and so a Conversation ensued fit for such Persons.

This Story prest so hard upon the young Captains, together with the

Concurrence of their superior Officers, that the young Fellows left

the Company in Confusion. Sir, I know you hate long things; but if you

like it, you may contract it, or how you will; but I think it has a

Moral in it.

But, Sir, I am told you are a famous Mechanick as well as a Looker-on,

and therefore humbly propose you would invent some Padlock, with full

Power under your Hand and Seal, for all modest Persons, either Men or

Women, to clap upon the Mouths of all such impertinent impudent

Fellows: And I wish you would publish a Proclamation, that no modest

Person who has a Value for her Countenance, and consequently would not

be put out of it, presume to travel after such a Day without one of

them in their Pockets. I fancy a smart _Spectator_ upon this Subject

would serve for such a Padlock; and that publick Notice may be given

in your Paper where they may be had with Directions, Price 2_d_. and

that part of the Directions may be, when any Person presumes to be

guilty of the above-mentioned Crime, the Party aggrieved may produce

it to his Face, with a Request to read it to the Company. He must be

very much hardened that could outface that Rebuke; and his further

Punishment I leave you to prescribe.

_Your humble Servant_,

Penance Cruel.

T. [1]

[Footnote 1: To this number is appended the advertisement:

This Day is Published,

a very neat Pocket Edition of the 3rd and 4th Volumes of the Spectator

in 12°. To which is added a compleat Index to the whole 4 volumes.

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

at Shakespear's Head over against Catherine Street in the Strand.]

* * * * *

No. 534. Wednesday, November 12, 1712. Steele.

'--Rarus enim fermè sensus communis in illa

Fortunâ--'

Juv.

_Mr_. SPECTATOR,

'I am a young Woman of Nineteen, the only Daughter of very wealthy

Parents; and have my whole Life been used with a Tenderness which did

me no great Service in my Education. I have perhaps an uncommon Desire

for Knowledge of what is suitable to my Sex and Quality; but as far as

I can remember, the whole Dispute about me has been, whether such a

thing was proper for the Child to do, or not? Or whether such or such

Food was the more wholsome for the young Lady to eat? This was ill for

my Shape, that for my Complexion, and t'other for my Eyes. I am not

extravagant when I tell you, I do not know that I have trod upon the

very Earth since I was ten Years old: A Coach or Chair I am obliged to

for all my Motions from one Place to another ever since I can

remember. All who had to do to instruct me, have ever been bringing

Stories of the notable things I have said and the Womanly manner of my

behaving my self upon such and such an Occasion. This has been my

State, till I came towards Years of Womanhood; and ever since I grew

towards the Age of Fifteen, I have been abused after another Manner.

Now, forsooth, I am so killing, no one can safely speak to me. Our

House is frequented by Men of Sense, and I love to ask Questions when

I fall into such Conversation; but I am cut short with something or

other about my bright Eyes. There is, Sir, a Language particular for

talking to Women in; and none but those of the very first good

Breeding (who are very few, and who seldom come into my way) can speak

to us without regard to our Sex. Among the generality of those they

call Gentlemen, it is impossible for me to speak upon any subject

whatsoever, without provoking somebody to say, _Oh! to be sure fine

Mrs. such-a-one must be very particularly acquainted with all that;

all the World will contribute to her Entertainment and Information_.

Thus, Sir, I am so handsome, that I murder all who approach me; so

wise, that I want no new Notices; and so well bred, that I am treated

by all that know me like a Fool, for no one will answer as if I were

their Friend or Companion. Pray, Sir, be pleased to take the part of

us Beauties and Fortunes into your Consideration, and do not let us be

thus flattered out of our Senses. I have got an Hussey of a Maid, who

is most craftily given to this ill Quality. I was at first diverted

with a certain Absurdity the Creature was guilty of in every thing she

said: She is a Country Girl, and in the Dialect of the Shire she was

born in, would tell me that every body reckon'd her Lady had the

purest Red and White in the World: Then she would tell me, I was the

most like one _Sisly Dobson_ in their Town, who made the Miller make

away with himself, and walk afterwards in the Corn-Field where they

used to meet. With all this, this cunning Hussey can lay Letters in my

way, and put a Billet in my Gloves, and then stand in it she knows

nothing of it. I do not know, from my Birth to this Day, that I have

been ever treated by any one as I ought; and if it were not for a few

Books which I delight in, I should be at this Hour a Novice to all

common Sense. Would it not be worth your while to lay down Rules for

Behaviour in this Case, and tell People, that we Fair-ones expect

honest plain Answers as well as other People? Why must I, good Sir,

because I have a good Air, a fine Complexion, and am in the Bloom of

my Years, be mis-led in all my Actions? and have the Notions of Good

and Ill confounded in my Mind, for no other Offence, but because I

have the Advantages of Beauty and Fortune? Indeed, Sir, what with the

silly Homage which is paid to us by the sort of People I have above

spoken of, and the utter Negligence which others have for us, the

Conversation of us young Women of Condition is no other than what must

expose us to Ignorance and Vanity, if not Vice. All this is humbly

submitted to your Spectatorial Wisdom, by,

_SIR, Your humble Servant_,

Sharlot Wealthy.

Will's _Coffee-house_.

_Mr_. SPECTATOR,

'Pray, Sir, it will serve to fill up a Paper, if you put in this;

which is only to ask, whether that Copy of Verses, which is a

Paraphrase of _Isaiah_, in one of your Speculations, is not written by

Mr. _Pope_? Then you get on another Line, by putting in, with proper

Distances, as at the end of a Letter,

_I am, Sir,

Your humble Servant_,

Abraham Dapperwit.

Mr. Dapperwit,

I am glad to get another Line forward, by saying that excellent Piece is

Mr. _Pope's_; and so, with proper Distances,

_I am, Sir,

Your humble Servant_,

S--r.

_Mr_. SPECTATOR,

I was a wealthy Grocer in the City, and as fortunate as diligent; but

I was a single Man, and you know there are Women. One in particular

came to my Shop, who I wished might, but was afraid never would, make

a Grocer's Wife. I thought, however, to take an effectual Way of

Courting, and sold to her at less Price than I bought, that I might

buy at less Price than I sold. She, you may be sure, often came, and

helped me to many Customers at the same Rate, fancying I was obliged

to her. You must needs think this was a good living Trade, and my

Riches must be vastly improved. In fine, I was nigh being declared

Bankrupt, when I declared my self her Lover, and she herself married.

I was just in a Condition to support my self, and am now in Hopes of

growing rich by losing my Customers.

_Yours_,

Jeremy Comfit.

_Mr_. SPECTATOR,

I am in the Condition of the Idol you was once pleased to mention, and

Bar-keeper of a Coffee-house. I believe it is needless to tell you the

Opportunities I must give, and the Importunities I suffer. But there

is one Gentleman who besieges me as close as the _French_ did

_Bouchain_. His Gravity makes him work cautious, and his regular

Approaches denote a good Engineer. You need not doubt of his Oratory,

as he is a Lawyer; and especially since he has had so little Use of it

at _Westminster_, he may spare the more for me.

What then can weak Woman do? I am willing to surrender, but he would

have it at Discretion, and I with Discretion. In the mean time, whilst

we parly, our several Interests are neglected. As his Siege grows

stronger, my Tea grows weaker; and while he pleads at my Bar, none

come to him for Counsel but _in Forma Pauperis_. Dear Mr. SPECTATOR,

advise him not to insist upon hard Articles, nor by his irregular

Desires contradict the well-meaning Lines of his Countenance. If we

were agreed we might settle to something, as soon as we could

determine where we should get most, by the Law, at the Coffee-house,

or at Westminster.

_Your humble Servant_,

Lucinda Parly.

_A Minuit from Mr_. John Sly.

The World is pretty regular for about forty Rod East, and ten West of

the Observatory of the said Mr. _Sly_; but he is credibly informed,

that when they are got beyond the Pass into the _Strand_, or those who

move City-ward are got within _Temple-Bar_, they are just as they were

before. It is there-fore humbly proposed that Moving-Centries may be

appointed all the busy Hours of the Day between the _Exchange_ and

_Westminster_, and report what passes to your Honour, or your

subordinate Officers, from Time to Time.

_Ordered_,

That Mr. _Sly_ name the said Officers, provided he will answer for their

Principles and Morals.

T.

* * * * *

No. 535. Thursday, November 13, 1712. Addison.

'Spem longam reseces--'

Hor.

My Four Hundred and Seventy First Speculation turned upon the Subject of

Hope in general. I design this Paper as a Speculation upon that vain and

foolish Hope, which is misemployed on Temporal Objects, and produces

many Sorrows and Calamities in human Life.

It is a Precept several times inculcated by _Horace_, that we should not

entertain an Hope of any thing in Life which lies at a great Distance

from us. The Shortness and Uncertainty of our Time here, makes such a

kind of Hope unreasonable and absurd. The Grave lies unseen between us

and the Object which we reach after: Where one Man lives to enjoy the

Good he has in view, ten thousand are cut off in the Pursuit of it.

It happens likewise unluckily, that one Hope no sooner dies in us but

another rises up in its stead. We are apt to fancy that we shall be

happy and satisfied if we possess ourselves of such and such particular

Enjoyments; but either by reason of their Emptiness, or the natural

Inquietude of the Mind, we have no sooner gained one Point but we extend

our Hopes to another. We still find new inviting Scenes and Landskips

lying behind those which at a Distance terminated our View.

The natural Consequences of such Reflections are these; that we should

take Care not to let our Hopes run out into too great a Length; that we

should sufficiently weigh the Objects of our Hope, whether they be such

as we may reasonably expect from them what we propose in their Fruition,

and whether they are such as we are pretty sure of attaining, in case

our Life extend itself so far. If we hope for things which are at too

great a Distance from, us, it is possible that we may be intercepted by

Death in our Progress towards them. If we hope for things of which we

have not thoroughly considered the value, our Disappointment will be

greater than our Pleasure in the Fruition of them. If we hope for what

we are not likely to possess, we act and think in vain, and make Life a

greater Dream and Shadow than it really is.

Many of the Miseries and Misfortunes of Life proceed from our Want of

Consideration, in one or all of these Particulars. They are the Rocks on

which the sanguine Tribe of Lovers daily split, and on which the

Bankrupt, the Politician, the Alchymist and Projector are cast away in

every Age. Men of warm Imaginations and towring Thoughts are apt to

overlook the Goods of Fortune [which are [1]] near them, for something

that glitters in the Sight at a distance; to neglect solid and

substantial Happiness, for what is showy and superficial; and to contemn

that Good which lies within their reach, for that which they are not

capable of attaining. Hope calculates its Schemes for a long and durable

Life; presses forward to imaginary Points of Bliss; and grasps at

Impossibilities; and consequently very often ensnares Men into Beggary,

Ruin and Dishonour.

What I have here said, may serve as a Moral to an _Arabian_ Fable, which

I find translated into _French_ by Monsieur _Galland_. [2]

The Fable has in it such a wild, but natural Simplicity, that I question

not but my Reader will be as much pleased with it as I have been, and

that he will consider himself, if he reflects on the several Amusements

of Hope which have sometimes passed in his Mind, as a near Relation to

the _Persian_ Glass-Man.

_Alnaschar_, says the Fable, was a very idle Fellow, that never would

set his Hand to any Business during his Father's Life. When his Father

died, he left him to the value of an hundred Drachmas in _Persian_

Mony. _Alnaschar_, in order to make the best of it, laid it out in

Glasses, Bottles, and the finest Earthen Ware. These he piled up in a

large open Basket, and having made choice of a very little Shop,

placed the Basket at his Feet, and leaned his Back upon the Wall, in

Expectation of Customers. As he sat in this Posture with his Eyes upon

the Basket, he fell into a most amusing Train of Thought, and was

over-heard by one of his Neighbours, as he talked to himself in the

following manner: _This Basket_, says he, _cost me at the Wholesale

Merchant's an Hundred Drachmas, which is all I have in the World. I

shall quickly make two hundred of it, by selling it in Retail. These

two hundred_ _Drachmas will in a very little while rise to four

Hundred, which of course will amount in time to four Thousand. Four

Thousand Drachmas cannot fail of making Eight Thousand. As soon as by

this means I am Master of Ten Thousand, I will lay aside my Trade of a

Glass-Man, and turn Jeweller. I shall then deal in Diamonds, Pearls,

and all sorts of rich Stones. When I have got together as much Wealth

as I can well desire, I will make a Purchase of the finest House I can

find, with Lands, Slaves, Eunuchs and Horses. I shall then begin to

enjoy my self, and make a noise in the World. I will not, however,

stop there, but still continue my Traffick, till I have got together

an Hundred Thousand Drachmas. When I have thus made my self Master of

an hundred thousand Drachmas, I shall naturally set my self on the

foot of a Prince, and will demand the Grand _Visier's_ Daughter in

Marriage, after having represented to that Minister the Information

which I have received of the Beauty, Wit, Discretion, and other high

Qualities which his Daughter possesses. I will let him know at the

same time, that it is my Intention to make him a Present of a thousand

Pieces of Gold on our Marriage-Night. As soon as I have married the

Grand _Visier's_ Daughter, I'll buy her ten black Eunuchs, the

youngest and best that can be got for Mony. I must afterwards make my

Father-in-Law a Visit with a great Train and Equipage. And when I am

placed at his Right-hand, which he will do of course, if it be only to

Honour his Daughter, I will give him the thousand Pieces of Gold which

I promised him, and afterwards, to his great Surprize, will present

him another Purse of the same Value, with some short Speech; as,_ Sir,

you see I am a Man of my Word: I always give more than I promise.

_When I have brought the Princess to my House, I shall take particular

care to breed in her a due Respect for me, before I give the Reins to

Love and Dalliance. To this end I shall confine her to her own

Apartment, make her a short Visit, and talk but little to her. Her

Women will represent to me, that she is inconsolable by reason of my

Unkindness, and beg me with Tears to caress her, and let her sit down

by me; but I shall still remain inexorable, and will turn my Back upon

her all the first Night. Her Mother will then come and bring her

Daughter to me, as I am seated upon my Sofa. The Daughter, with Tears

in her Eyes, will fling herself at my Feet, and beg of me to receive

her into my Favour: Then will I, to imprint in her a thorough

Veneration for my Person, draw up my Legs and spurn her from me with

my Foot, in such a manner that she shall fall down several Paces from

the Sofa.

Alnaschar_ was entirely swallowed up in this Chimerical Vision, and

could not forbear acting with his Foot what he had in his Thoughts: So

that unluckily striking his Basket of brittle Ware, which was the

Foundation of all his Grandeur, he kicked his Glasses to a great

distance from him into the Street, and broke them into ten thousand

Pieces.

O.

[Footnote 1: [that lie]

[Footnote 2: Arabian Nights, translated by Antony Galland, who died

1715.]

* * * * *

No. 536. Friday, November 14, 1712. Addison.

'O veræ Phrygiæ neque enim Phryges!'

Virg.

As I was the other day standing in my Bookseller's Shop, a pretty young

Thing about Eighteen Years of Age, stept out of her Coach, and brushing

by me, beck'ned the Man of the Shop to the further end of his Counter,

where she whispered something to him with an attentive Look, and at the

same time presented him with a Letter: After which, pressing the End of

her Fan upon his Hand, she delivered the remaining part of her Message,

and withdrew. I observed, in the midst of her Discourse, that she

flushed, and cast an Eye upon me over her Shoulder, having been informed

by my Bookseller, that I was the Man of the short Face, whom she had so

often read of. Upon her passing by me, the pretty blooming Creature

smiled in my Face, and dropped me a Curtsie. She scarce gave me time to

return her Salute, before she quitted the Shop with an easie Scuttle,

and stepped again into her Coach, giving the Footman Directions to drive

where they were bid. Upon her Departure, my Bookseller gave me a Letter,

superscribed, _To the ingenious Spectator_, which the young Lady had

desired him to deliver into my own Hands, and to tell me that the speedy

Publication of it would not only oblige her self, but a whole Tea-Table

of my Friends. I opened it therefore, with a Resolution to publish it,

whatever it should contain, and am sure, if any of my Male Readers will

be so severely critical as not to like it, they would have been as well

pleased with it as my self, had they seen the Face of the pretty Scribe.

_London, Nov._ 1712.

_Mr._ SPECTATOR,

'You are always ready to receive any useful Hint or Proposal, and

such, I believe, you will think one that may put you in a way to

employ the most idle part of the Kingdom; I mean that part of Mankind

who are known by the Name of the Womens-Men or Beaus, _&c. Mr._

SPECTATOR, you are sensible these pretty Gentlemen are not made for

any Manly Imployments, and for want of Business are often as much in

the Vapours as the Ladies. Now what I propose is this, that since

Knotting is again in fashion, which has been found a very pretty

Amusement, that you would recommend it to these Gentlemen as something

that may make them useful to the Ladies they admire. And since 'tis

not inconsistent with any Game, or other Diversion, for it may be done

in the Playhouse, in their Coaches, at the Tea-Table, and, in short,

in all Places where they come for the sake of the Ladies (except at

Church, be pleased to forbid it there, to prevent Mistakes) it will be

easily complied with. 'Tis beside an Imployment that allows, as we see

by the Fair Sex, of many Graces, which will make the Beaus more

readily come into it; it shews a white Hand and Diamond Ring to great

advantage; it leaves the Eyes at full liberty to be employed as

before, as also the Thoughts, and the Tongue. In short, it seems in

every respect so proper, that 'tis needless to urge it further, by

speaking of the Satisfaction these Male-Knotters will find, when they

see their Work mixed up in a Fringe, and worn by the fair Lady for

whom and with whom it was done. Truly, _Mr._ SPECTATOR, I cannot but

be pleased I have hit upon something that these Gentlemen are capable

of; for 'tis sad so considerable a part of the Kingdom (I mean for

Numbers) should be of no manner of use. I shall not trouble you

farther at this time, but only to say, that I am always your Reader,

and generally your Admirer, C. B.

_P. S._ 'The sooner these fine Gentlemen are set to Work the better;

there being at this time several fine Fringes that stay only for more

Hands.'

I shall, in the next place, present my Reader with the Description of a

Set of Men who are common enough in the World, tho' I do not remember

that I have yet taken notice of them, as they are drawn in the following

Letter.

_Mr._ SPECTATOR,

'Since you have lately, to so good purpose, enlarged upon Conjugal

Love, it's to be hoped you'll discourage every Practice that rather

proceeds from a regard to Interest, than to Happiness. Now you cannot

but observe, that most of our fine young Ladies readily fall in with

the Direction of the graver sort, to retain in their Service, by some

small Encouragement, as great a Number as they can of supernumerary

and insignificant Fellows, which they use like Whifflers, and commonly

call _Shoeing-Horns_. These are never designed to know the length of

the Foot, but only, when a good Offer comes, to whet and spur him up

to the Point. Nay, 'tis the Opinion of that grave Lady, Madam

_Matchwell_, that it's absolutely convenient for every prudent Family

to have several of these Implements about the House, to clap on as

Occasion serves, and that every Spark ought to produce a Certificate

of his being a Shoeing-Horn, before he be admitted as a Shoe. A

certain Lady, whom I could name, if it was necessary, has at present

more Shoeing-Horns of all Sizes, Countries, and Colours, in her

Service, than ever she had new Shoes in her Life. I have known a Woman

make use of a Shoeing-Horn for several Years, and finding him

unsuccessful in that Function, convert him at length into a Shoe. I am

mistaken if your Friend _Mr_. WILLIAM HONEYCOMB, was not a cast

Shoeing-Horn before his late Marriage. As for my self, I must frankly

declare to you, that I have been an errant Shoeing-Horn for above

these twenty Years. I served my first Mistress in that Capacity above

five of the Number, before she was shod. I confess, though she had

many who made their Applications to her, I always thought my self the

best Shoe in her Shop, and it was not till a Month before her Marriage

that I discovered what I was. This had like to have broke my Heart,

and raised such Suspicions in me, that I told the next I made Love to,

upon receiving some unkind Usage from her, that I began to look upon

my self as no more than her Shoeing-Horn. Upon which, my Dear, who was

a Coquet in her Nature, told me I was Hypocondriacal, and that I might

as well look upon my self to be an Egg or a Pipkin. But in a very

short time after she gave me to know that I was not mistaken in my

self. It would be tedious to recount to you the Life of an unfortunate

Shoeing-Horn, or I might entertain you with a very long and melancholy

Relation of my Sufferings. Upon the whole, I think, Sir, it would very

well become a Man in your Post, to determine in what Cases a Woman may

be allowed, with Honour, to make use of a Shoeing-Horn, as also to

declare whether a Maid on this side Five and Twenty, or a Widow who

has not been three Years in that State, may be granted such a

Privilege, with other Difficulties which will naturally occur to you

upon that Subject.

_I am, SIR,

With the most profound Veneration,

Yours, &c._

O.

* * * * *

No. 537. Saturday, November 15, 1712. J. Hughes.

[Greek: Tou mèn gàr génos esmén--]

_To the_ SPECTATOR.

_SIR,_

'It has been usual to remind Persons of Rank, on great Occasions in

Life, of their Race and Quality, and to what Expectations they were

born; that by considering what is worthy of them, they may be

withdrawn from mean Pursuits, and encouraged to laudable Undertakings.

This is turning Nobility into a Principle of Virtue, and making it

productive of Merit, as it is understood to have been originally a

Reward of it.

'It is for the like reason, I imagine, that you have in some of your

Speculations asserted to your Readers the _Dignity of Human Nature_.

But you cannot be insensible that this is a controverted Doctrine;

there are Authors who consider Human Nature in a very different View,

and Books of Maxims have been written to shew the _Falsity of all

Human Virtues_. The Reflections which are made on this Subject usually

take some Tincture from the Tempers and Characters of those that make

them. Politicians can resolve the most shining Actions among Men into

Artifice and Design; others, who are soured by Discontent, Repulses,

or ill Usage, are apt to mistake their Spleen for Philosophy; Men of

profligate Lives, and such as find themselves incapable of rising to

any Distinction among their Fellow-Creatures, are for pulling down all

Appearances of Merit, which seem to upbraid them: and Satirists

describe nothing but Deformity. From all these Hands we have such

Draughts of Mankind as are represented in those burlesque Pictures,

which the _Italians_ call _Caracatura's;_ where the Art consists in

preserving, amidst distorted Proportions and aggravated Features, some

distinguishing Likeness of the Person, but in such a manner as to

transform the most agreeable Beauty into the most odious Monster.

'It is very disingenuous to level the best of Mankind with the worst,

and for the Faults of Particulars to degrade the whole Species. Such

Methods tend not only to remove a Man's good Opinion of others, but to

destroy that Reverence for himself, which is a great Guard of

Innocence, and a Spring of Virtue.

'It is true indeed that there are surprizing Mixtures of Beauty and

Deformity, of Wisdom and Folly, Virtue and Vice, in the Human Make;

such a Disparity is found among Numbers of the same Kind, and every

Individual, in some Instances, or at some Times, is so unequal to

himself, that _Man_ seems to be the most wavering and inconsistent

Being in the whole Creation. So that the Question in Morality,

concerning the Dignity of our Nature, may at first sight appear like

some difficult Questions in Natural Philosophy, in which the Arguments

on both Sides seem to be of equal Strength. But as I began with

considering this Point as it relates to Action, I shall here borrow an

admirable Reflection from Monsieur _Pascal_, which I think sets it in

its proper Light.

'_It is of dangerous Consequence_, says he, _to represent to Man how

near he is to the Level of Beasts, without shewing him at the same

time his_ Greatness. _It is likewise dangerous to let him see his

Greatness, without his_ Meanness. _It is more dangerous yet to leave

him ignorant of either; but very beneficial that he should be made

sensible of both._ [1]

Whatever Imperfections we may have in our Nature, it is the Business

of Religion and Virtue to rectify them, as far as is consistent with

our present State. In the mean time, it is no small Encouragement to

generous Minds to consider that we shall put them all off with our

Mortality. That sublime Manner of Salutation with which the _Jews_

approached their Kings,

O King, _live for ever!_

may be addressed to the lowest and most despised Mortal among us,

under all the Infirmities and Distresses with which we see him

surrounded. And whoever believes the _Immortality of the Soul_, will

not need a better Argument for the Dignity of his Nature, nor a

stronger Incitement to Actions suitable to it.

'I am naturally led by this Reflection to a Subject I have already

touched upon in a former Letter, and cannot without pleasure call to

mind the Thoughts of _Cicero_ to this purpose, in the close of his

Book concerning _Old Age_. Every one who is acquainted with his

Writings, will remember that the elder _Cato_ is introduced in that

Discourse as the Speaker, and _Scipio_ and _Lelius_ as his Auditors.

This venerable Person is represented looking forward as it were from

the Verge of extreme Old Age, into a future State, and rising into a

Contemplation on the unperishable Part of his Nature, and its

Existence after Death. I shall collect Part of his Discourse. And as

you have formerly offered some Arguments for the Soul's Immortality,

agreeable both to Reason and the Christian Doctrine, I believe your

Readers will not be displeased to see how the same great Truth shines

in the Pomp of _Roman_ Eloquence.

"This, says _Cato_, my firm Persuasion, that since the human Soul

exerts it self with so great Activity, since it has such a

Remembrance of the Past, such a Concern for the Future, since it is

enriched with so many Arts, Sciences and Discoveries, it is

impossible but the Being which contains all these must be Immortal.

"The elder _Cyrus_, just before his Death, is represented by

XENOPHON speaking after this Manner."

'_Think not, my dearest Children, that when I depart from you I

shall be no more, but remember, that my Soul, even while I lived

among you, was invisible to you; yet by my Actions you were

sensible it existed in this Body. Believe it therefore existing

still, though it be still unseen. How quickly would the Honours of

illustrious Men perish after Death, if their Souls performed

nothing to preserve their Fame? For my own part, I never could

think that the Soul while in a mortal Body, lives, but when

departed out of it, dies; or that its Consciousness is lost when

it is discharged out of an unconscious Habitation. But when it is

freed from all corporeal Alliance, then it truly exists. Further,

since the Human Frame is broken by Death, tell us what becomes of

its Parts? It is visible whither the Materials of other Beings are

translated, namely to the Source from whence they had their Birth.

The Soul alone, neither present nor departed, is the Object of our

Eyes._' [2]

"Thus _Cyrus_. But to proceed. No one shall persuade me, _Scipio_,

that your worthy Father, or your Grandfathers _Paulus_ and

_Africanus_, or _Africanus_ his Father, or Uncle, or many other

excellent Men whom I need not name, performed so many Actions to be

remembered by Posterity, without being sensible that Futurity was

their Right. And, if I may be allowed an old Man's Privilege, to

speak of my self, do you think I would have endured the Fatigue of

so many wearisome Days and Nights both at home and abroad, if I

imagined that the same Boundary which is set to my Life must

terminate my Glory? Were it not more desirable to have worn out my

days in Ease and Tranquility, free from Labour, and without

Emulation? But I know not how, my Soul has always raised it self,

and looked forward on Futurity, in this View and Expectation, that

when it shall depart out of Life, it shall then live for ever; and

if this were not true, that the Mind is immortal, the Souls of the

most worthy would not, above all others, have the strongest Impulse

to Glory.

"What besides this is the Cause that the wisest Men die with the

greatest Æquanimity, the ignorant with the greatest Concern? Does it

not seem that those Minds which have the most extensive Views,

foresee they are removing to a happier Condition, which those of a

narrower Sight do not perceive? I, for my part, am transported with

the Hope of seeing your Ancestors, whom I have honoured and loved,

and am earnestly desirous of meeting not only those excellent

Persons whom I have known, but those too of whom I have heard and

read, and of whom I myself have written: nor would I be detained

from so pleasing a Journey. O happy Day, when I shall escape from

this Croud, this Heap of Pollution, and be admitted to that Divine

Assembly of exalted Spirits! When I shall go not only to those great

Persons I have named, but to my _Cato_, my Son, than whom a better

Man was never born, and whose Funeral Rites I my self performed,

whereas he ought rather to have attended mine. Yet has not his Soul

deserted me, but, seeming to cast back a Look on me, is gone before

to those Habitations to which it was sensible I should follow him.

And though I might appear to have born my Loss with Courage, I was

not unaffected with it, but I comforted myself in the Assurance that

it would not be long before we should meet again, and be divorced no

more.

_I am, SIR, &c._"'

_I question not but my Reader will be very much pleased to hear, that

the Gentleman who has obliged the World with the foregoing Letter, and

who was the Author of the 210th Speculation on the Immortality of the

Soul, [the 375th on Virtue in Distress,] the 525th on Conjugal Love, and

two or three other very fine ones among those which are not lettered at

the end, will soon publish a noble Poem, Intitled_ An Ode to the Creator

of the World, _occasioned by the Fragments of_ Orpheus.

[Footnote 1: _Pensées_. Part I. Art. iv. 7.]

[Footnote 2: Cyropædia, Book viii.]

* * * * *

No. 538. Monday, November 17, 1712. Addison.

'--Ultra

Finem tendere opus.'

Hor.

Surprize is so much the Life of Stories, that every one aims at it, who

endeavours to please by telling them. Smooth Delivery, an elegant Choice

of Words, and a sweet Arrangement, are all beautifying _Graces_, but not

the particulars in this Point of Conversation which either long command

the Attention, or strike with the Violence of a sudden Passion, or

occasion the burst of Laughter which accompanies Humour. I have

sometimes fancied that the Mind is in this case like a Traveller who

sees a fine Seat in Haste; he acknowledges the Delightfulness of a Walk

set with Regularity, but would be uneasy if he were obliged to pass it

over, when the first View had let him into all its Beauties from one End

to the other.

However, a knowledge of the Success which Stories will have when they

are attended with a Turn of Surprize, as it has happily made the

Characters of some, so has it also been the Ruin of the Characters of

others. There is a Set of Men who outrage Truth, instead of affecting us

with a Manner in telling it; who over-leap the Line of Probability, that

they may be seen to move out of the common Road; and endeavour only to

make their Hearers stare, by imposing upon them with a kind of Nonsense

against the Philosophy of Nature, or such a Heap of Wonders told upon

their own Knowledge, as it is not likely one Man should ever have met

with.

I have been led to this Observation by a Company into which I fell

accidentally. The Subject of _Antipathies_ was a proper Field wherein

such false Surprizes might expatiate, and there were those present who

appeared very fond to shew it in its full Extent of traditional History.

Some of them, in a learned manner, offered to our Consideration the

miraculous Powers which the Effluviums of Cheese have over Bodies whose

Pores are dispos'd to receive them in a noxious manner; others gave an

account of such who could indeed bear the sight of Cheese, but not the

Taste; for which they brought a Reason from the Milk of their Nurses.

Others again discours'd, without endeavouring at Reasons, concerning an

unconquerable Aversion which some Stomachs have against a Joint of Meat

when it is whole, and the eager Inclination they have for it, when, by

its being cut up, the Shape which had affected them is altered. From

hence they passed to Eels, then to Parsnips, and so from one Aversion to

another, till we had work'd up our selves to such a pitch of

Complaisance, that when the Dinner was to come in, we enquired the name

of every Dish, and hop'd it would be no Offence to any in Company,

before it was admitted. When we had sat down, this Civility amongst us

turned the Discourse from Eatables to other sorts of Aversions; and the

eternal Cat, which plagues every Conversation of this nature, began then

to engross the Subject. One had sweated at the Sight of it, another had

smelled it out as it lay concealed in a very distant Cupboard; and he

who crowned the whole set of these Stories, reckon'd up the Number of

Times in which it had occasion'd him to swoon away. At last, says he,

that you may all be satisfy'd of my invincible Aversion to a Cat, I

shall give an unanswerable Instance: As I was going through a Street of

_London_, where I had never been till then, I felt a general Damp and

Faintness all over me, which I could not tell how to account for, till I

chanced to cast my Eyes upwards, and found that I was passing under a

Sign-Post on which the Picture of a Cat was hung.

The Extravagance of this Turn in the way of Surprize, gave a stop to the

Talk we had been carrying on: Some were silent because they doubted, and

others because they were conquered in their own Way; so that the

Gentleman had Opportunity to press the Belief of it upon us, and let us

see that he was rather exposing himself than ridiculing others.

I must freely own that I did not all this while disbelieve every thing

that was said; but yet I thought some in the Company had been

endeavouring who should pitch the Bar farthest; that it had for some

time been a measuring Cast, and at last my Friend of the Cat and

Sign-post had thrown beyond them all.

I then consider'd the Manner in which this Story had been received, and

the Possibility that it might have pass'd for a Jest upon others, if he

had not labour'd against himself. From hence, thought I, there are two

Ways which the well-bred World generally takes to correct such a

Practice, when they do not think fit to contradict it flatly.

The first of these is a general Silence, which I would not advise any

one to interpret in his own behalf. It is often the Effect of Prudence

in avoiding a Quarrel, when they see another drive so fast, that there

is no stopping him without being run against; and but very seldom the

Effect of Weakness in believing suddenly. The generality of Mankind are

not so grossly ignorant, as some over-bearing Spirits would persuade

themselves; and if the Authority of a Character or a Caution against

Danger make us suppress our Opinions, yet neither of these are of force

enough to suppress our Thoughts of them. If a Man who has endeavoured to

amuse his Company with Improbabilities could but look into their Minds,

he would find that they imagine he lightly esteems of their Sense when

he thinks to impose upon them, and that he is less esteemed by them for

his Attempt in doing so. His endeavour to glory at their Expence becomes

a Ground of Quarrel, and the Scorn and Indifference with which they

entertain it begins the immediate Punishment: And indeed (if we should

even go no further) Silence, or a negligent Indifference has a deeper

way of wounding than Opposition; because Opposition proceeds from an

Anger that has a sort of generous Sentiment for the Adversary mingling

along with it, while it shews that there is some Esteem in your Mind for

him; in short, that you think him worth while to contest with: But

Silence, or a negligent Indifference, proceeds from Anger, mixed with a

Scorn that shews another he is thought by you too contemptible to be

regarded.

The other Method which the World has taken for correcting this Practice

of false Surprize, is to over-shoot such Talkers in their own Bow, or to

raise the Story with further Degrees of Impossibility, and set up for a

Voucher to them in such a manner as must let them see they stand

detected. Thus I have heard a Discourse was once managed upon the

Effects of Fear. One of the Company had given an account how it had

turn'd his Friend's Hair grey in a Night, while the Terrors of a

Shipwrack encompassed him. Another taking the Hint from hence, began,

upon his own Knowledge, to enlarge his Instances of the like nature to

such a Number, that it was not probable he could ever have met with

them; and as he still grounded these upon different Causes, for the sake

of Variety, it might seem at last, from his Share of the Conversation,

almost impossible that any one who can feel the Passion of Fear should

all his Life escape so common an Effect of it. By this time some of the

Company grew negligent, or desirous to contradict him: But one rebuked

the rest with an appearance of Severity, and with the known old Story in

his Head, assured them they need not scruple to believe that the Fear of

any thing can make a Man's Hair grey, since he knew one whose Perriwig

had suffered so by it. Thus he stopped the Talk, and made them easy.

Thus is the same Method taken to bring us to Shame, which we fondly take

to increase our Character. It is indeed a kind of Mimickry, by which

another puts on our Air of Conversation to show us to our selves: He

seems to look ridiculous before you, that you may remember how near a

Resemblance you bear to him, or that you may know he will not lie under

the Imputation of believing you. Then it is that you are struck dumb

immediately with a conscientious Shame for what you have been saying,

Then it is that you are inwardly grieved at the Sentiments which you

cannot but perceive others entertain concerning you. In short, you are

against your self; the Laugh of the Company runs against you; the

censuring World is obliged to you for that Triumph which you have

allowed them at your own Expence; and Truth, which you have injured, has

a near way of being revenged on you, when by the bare Repetition of your

Story you become a frequent Diversion for the [Publick. [1]]

_Mr._ SPECTATOR,

'The other Day, walking in _Pancras_ Churchyard, I thought of your

Paper wherein you mention Epitaphs, and am of opinion this has a

Thought in it worth being communicated to your Readers.

'Here Innocence and Beauty lies, whose Breath

Was snatch'd by early, not untimely Death.

Hence did she go, just as she did begin

Sorrow to know, before she knew to sin.

Death, that does Sin and Sorrow thus prevent,

Is the next Blessing to a Life well spent.'

[I am, SIR, Your Servant.]

[Footnote 1: [Publick. _I am, Sir, your Servant.]]

* * * * *

No. 539. Tuesday, November 18, 1712. Budgell.

'Heteroclyta sunto.--Quæ Genus.'

_Mr._ SPECTATOR,

'I am a young Widow of a good Fortune and Family, and just come to

Town; where I find I have Clusters of pretty Fellows come already to

visit me, some dying with Hopes, others with Fears, tho' they never

saw me. Now what I would beg of you, would be to know whether I may

venture to use these pert Fellows with the same Freedom as I did my

Country Acquaintance. I desire your Leave to use them as to me shall

seem meet, without Imputation of a Jilt; for since I make Declaration

that not one of them shall have me, I think I ought to be allowed the

Liberty of insulting those who have the Vanity to believe it is in

their power to make me break that Resolution. There are Schools for

learning to use Foils, frequented by those who never design to fight;

and this useless way of aiming at the Heart, without design to wound

it on either side, is the Play with which I am resolved to divert my

self: The Man who pretends to win, I shall use like him who comes into

a Fencing-School to pick a Quarrel. I hope, upon this Foundation, you

will give me the free use of the natural and artificial Force of my

Eyes, Looks, and Gestures. As for verbal Promises, I will make none,

but shall have no mercy on the conceited Interpreters of Glances and

Motions. I am particularly skill'd in the downcast Eye, and the

Recovery into a sudden full Aspect, and away again, as you may have

seen sometimes practised by us Country Beauties beyond all that you

have observed in Courts and Cities. Add to this, Sir, that I have a

ruddy heedless Look, which covers Artifice the best of any thing. Tho'

I can dance very well, I affect a tottering untaught way of walking,

by which I appear an easy Prey and never exert my instructed Charms

till I find I have engaged a Pursuer. Be pleased, Sir, to print this

Letter; which will certainly begin the Chace of a rich Widow: The many

Foldings, Escapes, Returns and Doublings which I make, I shall from

time to time communicate to you, for the better Instruction of all

Females who set up, like me, for reducing the present exorbitant Power

and Insolence of Man.'

_I am, SIR,

Your faithful Correspondent_,

Relicta Lovely.

_Dear Mr._ SPECTATOR,

'I depend upon your profess'd Respect for virtuous Love, for your

immediate answering the Design of this Letter; which is no other than

to lay before the World the Severity of certain Parents who desire to

suspend the Marriage of a discreet young Woman of eighteen, three

Years longer, for no other reason but that of her being too young to

enter into that State. As to the consideration of Riches, my

Circumstances are such, that I cannot be suspected to make my

Addresses to her on such low Motives as Avarice or Ambition. If ever

Innocence, Wit and Beauty, united their utmost Charms, they have in

her. I wish you would expatiate a little on this Subject, and admonish

her Parents that it may be from the very Imperfection of Human Nature

it self, and not any personal Frailty of her or me, that our

Inclinations baffled at present may alter; and while we are arguing

with our selves to put off the Enjoyment of our present Passions, our

Affections may change their Objects in the Operation. It is a very

delicate Subject to talk upon; but if it were but hinted, I am in

hopes it would give the Parties concern'd some Reflection that might

expedite our Happiness. There is a Possibility, and I hope I may say

it without Imputation of Immodesty to her I love with the highest

Honour; I say, there is a Possibility this Delay may be as painful to

her as it is to me. If it be as much, it must be more, by reason of

the severe Rules the Sex are under in being denied even the Relief of

Complaint. If you oblige me in this, and I succeed, I promise you a

Place at my Wedding, and a Treatment suitable to your Spectatorial

Dignity.'

_Your most humble Servant_,

Eustace.

_SIR_,

'I Yesterday heard a young Gentleman, that look'd as if he was just

come to the Town, and a Scarf, upon Evil-speaking; which Subject, you

know, Archbishop _Tillotson_ has so nobly handled in a Sermon in his

_Folio_. As soon as ever he had named his Text, and had opened a

little the Drift of his Discourse, I was in great hopes he had been

one of Sir ROGER'S Chaplains. I have conceived so great an Idea of the

charming Discourse above, that I should have thought one part of my

Sabbath very well spent in hearing a Repetition of it. But alas! Mr.

SPECTATOR, this Reverend Divine gave us his Grace's Sermon, and yet I

don't know how; even I, that I am sure have read it at least twenty

times, could not tell what to make of it, and was at a loss sometimes

to guess what the Man aim'd at. He was so just indeed, as to give us

all the Heads and the Sub-divisions of the Sermon; and farther I think

there was not one beautiful Thought in it but what we had. But then,

Sir, this Gentleman made so many pretty Additions; and he could never

give us a Paragraph of the Sermon, but he introduced it with something

which, methought, look'd more like a Design to shew his own Ingenuity,

than to instruct the People. In short, he added and curtailed in such

a manner that he vexed me; insomuch that I could not forbear thinking

(what, I confess, I ought not to have thought of in so holy a Place)

that this young Spark was as justly blameable as _Bullock_ or

_Penkethman_ when they mend a noble Play of _Shakespear_ or _Johnson_.

Pray, Sir, take this into your Consideration; and if we must be

entertained with the Works of any of those great Men, desire these

Gentlemen to give them us as they find them, that so, when we read

them to our Families at home, they may the better remember they have

heard them at Church.'

_SIR,

Your humble Servant_.

* * * * *

No. 540. Wednesday, November 19, 1712. Steele.

'--Non Deficit Alter--'

Virg.

_Mr._ SPECTATOR,

'There is no Part of your Writings which I have in more Esteem than

your Criticism upon _Milton_. It is an honourable and candid Endeavour

to set the Works of our Noble Writers in the graceful Light which they

deserve. You will lose much of my kind Inclination towards you, if you

do not attempt the Encomium of _Spencer_ also, or at least indulge my

Passion for that charming Author so far as to print the loose Hints I

now give you on that Subject.

'Spencer's general Plan is the Representation of six Virtues,

Holiness, Temperance, Chastity, Friendship, Justice and Courtesy, in

six Legends by six Persons. The six Personages are supposed under

proper Allegories suitable to their respective Characters, to do all

that is necessary for the full Manifestation of the respective Virtues

which they are to exert.

'These one might undertake to shew under the several Heads, are

admirably drawn; no Images improper, and most surprizingly beautiful.

The Red-cross Knight runs through the whole Steps of the Christian

Life; _Guyon_ does all that Temperance can possibly require;

_Britomartis_ (a Woman) observes the true Rules of unaffected

Chastity; _Arthegal_ is in every Respect of Life strictly and wisely

just; _Calidore_ is rightly courteous.

'In short, in _Fairy-Land_, where Knights Errant have a full Scope to

range, and to do even what _Ariosto's_ or _Orlando's_ could not do in

the World without breaking into Credibility, _Spencer's_ Knights have,

under those six Heads, given a full and a truly Poetical System of

Christian, Public, and Low Life.

'His Legend of Friendship is more diffuse, and yet even there the

Allegory is finely drawn, only the Heads various, one Knight could not

there support all the Parts.

'To do honour to his Country, Prince _Arthur_ is an Universal Hero; in

Holiness, Temperance, Chastity, and Justice super-excellent. For the

same Reason, and to compliment Queen _Elizabeth_, _Gloriana_, Queen of

Fairies, whose Court was the Asylum of the Oppressed, represents that

Glorious Queen. At her Commands all these Knights set forth, and only

at her's the Red-cross Knight destroys the Dragon. _Guyon_ overturns

the Bower of Bliss, _Arthegal_ (i. e. _Justice_) beats down _Geryoneo_

(i. e. _Phil._ II. King of _Spain_) to rescue _Belge_ (i. e.

_Holland_) and he beats the _Grantorto_ (the same _Philip_ in another

Light) to restore _Irena_ (i. e. _Peace_ to Europe.)

'Chastity being the first Female Virtue, _Britomartis_ is a _Britain_;

her Part is fine, though it requires Explication. His stile is very

Poetical; no Puns, Affectations of Wit, forced Antitheses, or any of

that low Tribe.

'His old Words are all true _English_, and numbers exquisite; and

since of Words there is the _Multa Renascentur_, since they are all

proper, such a Poem should not (any more than _Milton's_) subsist all

of it of common ordinary Words. See Instances of Descriptions.

'Causeless Jealousy in _Britomartis_, V. 6, 14, in its Restlessness.

'Like as a wayward Child whose sounder Sleep

Is broken with some fearful Dream's Affright,

With froward Will doth set himself to weep,

Ne can be stil'd for all his Nurse's Might,

But kicks, and squalls, and shrieks for fell Despight;

Now scratching her, and her loose Locks misusing,

Now seeking Darkness, and now seeking Light;

Then craving Suck, and then the Suck refusing:

Such was this Lady's Loves in her Love's fond accusing.'

Curiosity occasioned by Jealousy, upon occasion of her Lover's

Absence. _Ibid, Stan_. 8, 9.

'Then as she looked long, at last she spy'd

One coming towards her with hasty Speed,

Well ween'd she then, e'er him she plain descry'd,

That it was one sent from her Love indeed;

Whereat her Heart was fill'd with Hope and Dread,

Ne would she stay till he in Place could come,

But ran to weet him forth to know his Tidings somme;

Even in the Door him meeting, she begun,

And where is he, thy Lord, and how far hence?

Declare at once; and hath he lost or won?'

_Care_ and his _House_ are described thus, IV. 6, 33, 34, 35.

'Not far away, not meet for any Guest,

They spy'd a little Cottage, like some poor Man's Nest.'

34.

'There entring in, they found the Good-Man's self,

Full busily unto his Work ybent,

Who was so weel a wretched wearish Elf,

With hollow Eyes and raw-bone Cheeks forspent,

As if he had in Prison long been pent.

Full black and griesly did his Face appear,

Besmear'd with Smoke that nigh his Eye-sight blent,

With rugged Beard and Hoary shaggy Heare,

The which he never wont to comb, or comely shear.'

35.

'Rude was his Garment and to Rags all rent,

Ne better had he, ne for better cared;

His blistred Hands amongst the Cinders brent,

And Fingers filthy, with long Nails prepared,

Right fit to rend the Food on which he fared.

His Name was_ Care; _a Blacksmith by his Trade,

That neither Day nor Night from working spared,

But to small purpose Iron Wedges made:

These be unquiet Thoughts that careful Minds invade.'

'Homer's Epithets were much admired by Antiquity: See what great

Justness and Variety there is in these Epithets of the Trees in the

Forest where the Red-cross Knight lost _Truth_, B. I. Cant. i. St. 8,

9.

'The sailing Pine, the Cedar proud and tall,

The Vine-prop Elm, the Poplar never dry,

The Builder Oak, sole King of Forests all.

The Aspine good for Staves, the Cypress Funeral.

The Laurel, Meed of mighty Conquerors,

And Poets sage; the Fir that weepeth still,

The Willow worn of forlorn Paramours,

The Yew obedient to the Bender's Will.

The Birch for Shafts, the Sallow for the Mill;

The Myrrhe sweet bleeding in the bitter Wound,

The warlike Beech, the Ash for nothing ill,

The fruitful Olive, and the Plantane round,

The Carver Helm, the Maple seldom inward sound.'

'I shall trouble you no more, but desire you to let me conclude with

these Verses, though I think they have already been quoted by you;

They are Directions to young Ladies opprest with Calumny. VI. 6, 14.

'The best_ (said he) _that I can you advise,

Is to avoid the Occasion of the Ill;

For when the Cause whence Evil doth arise

Removed is, the Effect surceaseth still.

Abstain from Pleasure, and restrain your Will,

Subdue Desire, and bridle loose Delight,

Use scanted Diet, and forbear your Fill,

Shun Secrecy, and talk in open Sight;

So shall you soon repair your present evil Plight.'

T.

* * * * *

No. 541. Thursday, November 20, 1712. John Hughes.

'Format enim Natura prius nos intus ad omnem

Fortunarum habitum; juvat, aut impellit ad iram,

Aut ad humum mærore gravi deducit et angit;

Post effert animi motus interprete Lingua.'

Hor.

My Friend the _Templar_, whom I have so often mentioned in these

Writings, having determined to lay aside his Poetical Studies, in order

to a closer Pursuit of the Law, has put together, as a Farewell Essay,

some Thoughts concerning [_Pronunciation_ and _Action_, [1]] which he

has given me leave to communicate to the Publick. They are chiefly

collected from his Favourite Author, _Cicero_, who is known to have been

an intimate Friend of _Rostius_ the Actor, and a good Judge of

[Dramatick [2]] Performances, as well as the most Eloquent Pleader of

the Time in which he lived.

Cicero concludes his celebrated Books _de Oratore_ with some Precepts

for Pronunciation and Action, without which Part he affirms that the

best Orator in the World can never succeed; and an indifferent one, who

is Master of this, shall gain much greater Applause. What could make a

stronger Impression, says he, than those Exclamations of _Gracchus_:

'Whither shall I turn? Wretch that I am! To what Place betake my self?

Shall I go to the_ Capitol?--_Alas! it is overflowed with my Brother's

Blood. Or shall I retire to my House? Yet there I behold my Mother

plung'd in Misery, weeping and despairing!'