'And accordingly in Fact, Face-Painting is no where so well performed

as in _England_: I know not whether it has lain in your way to observe

it, but I have, and pretend to be a tolerable Judge. I have seen what

is done abroad, and can assure you, that the Honour of that Branch of

Painting is justly due to us. I appeal to the judicious Observers for

the Truth of what I assert. If Foreigners have oftentimes or even for

the most part excelled our Natives, it ought to be imputed to the

Advantages they have met with _here_, join'd to their own Ingenuity

and Industry; nor has any one Nation distinguished themselves so as to

raise an Argument in favour of their Country: but it is to be

observed, that neither _French_ nor _Italians_, nor any one of either

Nation, notwithstanding all our Prejudices in their favour have, or

ever had, for any considerable time, any Character among us as

Face-Painters.

'This Honour is due to our own Country; and has been so for near an

Age: So that instead of going to _Italy_, or elsewhere, one that

designs for Portrait-Painting ought to study in _England_. Hither such

should come from _Holland, France, Italy, Germany_, &c. as he that

intends to practice any other kind of Painting, should go to those

Parts where 'tis in greatest Perfection. 'Tis said the Blessed Virgin

descended from Heaven, to sit to St _Luke_; I dare venture to affirm,

that if she should desire another _Madonna_ to be painted by the Life,

she would come to _England_; and am of opinion that your present

President, Sir _Godfrey Kneller_, from his Improvement since he

arrived in this Kingdom, would perform that Office better than any

Foreigner living. I am, with all possible Respect,

_SIR

Your most Humble, and

Most Obedient Servant, &c._

_The ingenious Letters sign'd the_ Weather-Glass, _with several others,

were received, but came too late_.

(_POSTSCRIPT_.

It had not come to my Knowledge, when I left off the _Spectator_, that I

owe several excellent Sentiments and agreeable Pieces in this Work to

Mr. _Ince of Grey's-Inn_. [4] R. STEELE.)

[Footnote 1: Transposed in the volume to this place. In the number it

stood last; following the next letter.]

[Footnote 2: [Give me leave before I conclude to insert a Letter which]]

[Footnote 3: [few]]

[Footnote 4: Mr. Richard Ince, a good Greek scholar, who became

Comptroller of Army Accounts, and inherited a fortune, died in 1758.]

* * * * *

WILLIAM HONEYCOMB, ESQ. [1]

The Seven former Volumes of the _Spectator_ having been Dedicated to

some of the most celebrated Persons of the Age, I take leave to Inscribe

this Eighth and Last to You, as to a Gentleman who hath ever been

ambitious of appearing in the best Company.

You are now wholly retired from the busie Part of Mankind, and at

leisure to reflect upon your past Achievements; for which reason, I look

upon You as a Person very well qualified for a Dedication.

I may possibly disappoint my Readers, and your self too, if I do not

endeavour on this Occasion to make the World acquainted with your

Virtues. And here, Sir, I shall not compliment You upon your Birth,

Person, or Fortune; nor any other the like Perfections, which You

possess whether You will or no: But shall only touch upon those, which

are of your own acquiring, and in which every one must allow You have a

real Merit.

Your janty Air and easy Motion, the Volubility of your Discourse, the

Suddenness of your Laugh, the Management of your Snuff-Box, with the

Whiteness of your Hands and Teeth (which have justly gained You the Envy

of the most polite part of the Male World, and the Love of the greatest

Beauties in the Female) are intirely to be ascribed to your own personal

Genius and Application.

You are formed for these Accomplishments by a happy Turn of Nature, and

have finished your self in them by the utmost Improvements of Art. A Man

that is defective in either of these Qualifications (whatever may be the

secret Ambition of his Heart) must never hope to make the Figure You

have done, among the fashionable part of his Species. It is therefore no

wonder, we see such Multitudes of aspiring young Men fall short of You

in all these Beauties of your Character, notwithstanding the Study and

Practice of them is the whole Business of their Lives. But I need not

tell You that the free and disengaged Behaviour of a fine Gentleman

makes as many aukward Beaux, as the Easiness of your Favourite _Waller_

hath made insipid Poets.

At present You are content to aim all your Charms at your own Spouse,

without further Thought of Mischief to any others of the Sex. I know you

had formerly a very great Contempt for that Pedantick Race of Mortals

who call themselves Philosophers; and yet, to your Honour be it spoken,

there is not a Sage of them all could have better acted up to their

Precepts in one of the most important Points of Life: I mean in that

Generous Dis-regard of Popular Opinion, which you showed some Years ago,

when you chose for your Wife an obscure young Woman, who doth not indeed

pretend to an ancient Family, but has certainly as many Fore-fathers as

any Lady in the Land, if she could but reckon up their Names.

I must own I conceived very extraordinary hopes of you from the Moment

that you confessed your Age, and from eight and forty (where you had

stuck so many Years) very ingenuously step'd into your Grand

Climacterick. Your Deportment has since been very venerable and

becoming. If I am rightly informed, You make a regular Appearance every

Quarter-Sessions among your Brothers of the _Quorum_; and if things go

on as they do, stand fair for being a Colonel of the Militia. I am told

that your Time passes away as agreeably in the Amusements of a Country

Life, as it ever did in the Gallantries of the Town: And that you now

take as much pleasure in the Planting of young Trees, as you did

formerly in the Cutting down of your Old ones. In short, we hear from

all Hands that You are thoroughly reconciled to your dirty Acres, and

have not too much Wit to look into your own Estate.

After having spoken thus much of my Patron, I must take the Privilege of

an Author in saying something of my self. I shall therefore beg leave to

add, that I have purposely omitted setting those Marks to the End of

every Paper, which appeared in my former Volumes, that You may have an

Opportunity of showing Mrs. _Honeycomb_ the Shrewdness of your

Conjectures, by ascribing every Speculation to its proper Author: Though

You know how often many profound Criticks in Style and Sentiments have

very judiciously erred in this Particular, before they were let into the

Secret. I am,

_SIR,

Your most Faithful,

Humble Servant,

THE SPECTATOR_.

(_THE_ Bookseller _to the_ Reader.

_In the Six hundred and thirty second_ Spectator, _the Reader will find

an Account of the Rise of this Eighth and Last Volume._

_I have not been able to prevail upon the several Gentlemen who were

concerned in this Work to let me acquaint the World with their Names.

Perhaps it will be unnecessary to inform the Reader, that no other

Papers, which have appeared under the Title of_ Spectator, _since the

closing of this Eighth Volume, were written by any of those Gentlemen

who had a Hand in this or the former Volumes_.)

[Footnote 1: This Dedication to Addison's supplementary _Spectator_,

begun a year and a half after the close of Steele's, is thought to be by

Eustace Budgell.]

* * * * *

No. 556. Friday, June 18, 1714. Addison. [1]

To be continued every _Monday, Wednesday_, and _Friday_.

'Qualis ubi in lucem coluber, mala gramina, pastus,

Frigida sub terra tumidum quem bruma tegebat;

Nunc positis novus exuviis, nitidusque juventa,

Lubrica convolvit sublato pectore terga

Arduus ad solem, et linguis micat ore trisulcis.'

Virg.

Upon laying down the Office of SPECTATOR, I acquainted the World with my

Design of electing a new Club, and of opening my Mouth in it after a

most solemn Manner. Both the Election and the Ceremony are now past; but

not finding it so easy as I at first imagined, to break thro' a Fifty

Years Silence, I would not venture into the World under the character of

a Man who pretends to talk like other People, till I had arrived at a

full Freedom of Speech.

I shall reserve for another time the History of such Club or Clubs of

which I am now a Talkative, but unworthy Member; and shall here give an

Account of this surprising Change which has been produced in me, and

which I look upon to be as remarkable an Accident as any recorded in

History, since that which happened to the Son of _Croesus_, after having

been many Years as much Tongue-tied as my self.

Upon the first opening of my Mouth, I made a Speech consisting of about

half a Dozen well-turned Periods; but grew so very hoarse upon it, that

for three Days together, instead of finding the use of my Tongue, I was

afraid that I had quite lost it. Besides, the unusual Extension of my

Muscles on this Occasion, made my Face ake on both Sides to such a

Degree, that nothing but an invincible Resolution and Perseverance could

have prevented me from falling back to my Monosyllables. I afterwards

made several Essays towards speaking; and that I might not be startled

at my own Voice, which has happen'd to me more than once, I used to read

aloud in my Chamber, and have often stood in the Middle of the Street to

call a Coach, when I knew there was none within hearing.

When I was thus grown pretty well acquainted with my own Voice, I laid

hold of all Opportunities to exert it. Not caring however to speak much

by my self, and to draw upon me the whole Attention of those I conversed

with, I used, for some time, to walk every Morning in the _Mall_, and

talk in Chorus with a Parcel of _Frenchmen_. I found my Modesty greatly

relieved by the communicative Temper of this Nation, who are so very

sociable, as to think they are never better Company, than when they are

all opening at the same time.

I then fancied I might receive great Benefit from Female Conversation,

and that I should have a Convenience of talking with the greater

Freedom, when I was not under any Impediment of thinking: I therefore

threw my self into an Assembly of Ladies, but could not for my Life get

in a Word among them; and found that if I did not change my Company, I

was in Danger of being reduced to my primitive Taciturnity.

The Coffee-houses have ever since been my chief Places of Resort, where

I have made the greatest Improvements; in order to which I have taken a

particular Care never to be of the same Opinion with the Man I conversed

with. I was a Tory at _Button's_, and a Whig at _Childe's_; a Friend to

the _Englishman_, or an Advocate for the _Examiner_, as it best served

my Turn; some fancy me a great Enemy to the _French_ King, though, in

reality, I only make use of him for a Help to Discourse. In short, I

wrangle and dispute for Exercise; and have carried this Point so far

that I was once like to have been run through the Body for making a

little too free with my Betters.

In a Word, I am quite another Man to what I was.

'--Nil fuit unquam

Tam dispar sibi--'

My old Acquaintance scarce know me; nay I was asked the other Day by a

_Jew_ at _Jonathan's_, whether I was not related to a dumb Gentleman,

who used to come to that Coffee-house? But I think I^never was better

pleased in my Life than about a Week ago, when, as I was battling it

across the Table with a young Templar, his Companion gave him a Pull by

the Sleeve, begging him to come away, for that the old Prig would talk

him to Death.

Being now a very good Proficient in Discourse, I shall appear in the

World with this Addition to my Character, that my Countrymen may reap

the Fruits of my new-acquired Loquacity.

Those who have been present at public Disputes in the University, know

that it is usual to maintain Heresies for Argument's sake. I have heard

a Man a most impudent Socinian for Half an Hour, who has been an

Orthodox Divine all his Life after. I have taken the same Method to

accomplish my self in the Gift of Utterance, having talked above a

Twelve-month, not so much for the Benefit of my Hearers as of my self.

But since I have now gained the Faculty, I have been so long

endeavouring after, I intend to make a right Use of it, and shall think

my self obliged, for the future, to speak always in Truth and Sincerity

of Heart. While a Man is learning to fence, he practises both on Friend

and Foe; but when he is a Master in the Art, he never exerts it but on

what he thinks the right Side.

That this last Allusion may not give my Reader a wrong Idea of my Design

in this Paper, I must here inform him, that the Author of it is of no

Faction, that he is a Friend to no Interests but those of Truth and

Virtue, nor a Foe to any but those of Vice and Folly. Though I make more

Noise in the World than I used to do, I am still resolved to act in it

as an indifferent SPECTATOR. It is not my Ambition to encrease the

Number either of Whigs or Tories, but of wise and good Men, and I could

heartily wish there were not Faults common to both Parties which afford

me sufficient Matter to work upon, without descending to those which are

peculiar to either.

If in a Multitude of Counsellors there is Safety, we ought to think our

selves the securest Nation in the World. Most of our Garrets are

inhabited by Statesmen, who watch over the Liberties of their Country,

and make a Shift to keep themselves from starving by taking into their

Care the Properties of their Fellow-Subjects.

As these Politicians of both Sides have already worked the Nation into a

most unnatural Ferment, I shall be so far from endeavouring to raise it

to a greater Height, that on the contrary, it shall be the chief

Tendency of my Papers, to inspire my Countrymen with a mutual Good-will

and Benevolence. Whatever Faults either Party may be guilty of, they are

rather inflamed than cured by those Reproaches, which they cast upon one

another. The most likely Method of rectifying any Man's Conduct, is, by

recommending to him the Principles of Truth and Honour, Religion and

Virtue; and so long as he acts with an Eye to these Principles, whatever

Party he is of, he cannot fail of being a good _Englishman_, and a Lover

of his Country.

As for the Persons concerned in this Work, the Names of all of them, or

at least of such as desire it, shall be published hereafter: Till which

time I must entreat the courteous Reader to suspend his Curiosity, and

rather to consider what is written, than who they are that write it.

Having thus adjusted all necessary Preliminaries with my Reader, I shall

not trouble him with any more prefatory Discourses, but proceed in my

old Method, and entertain him with Speculations on every useful Subject

that falls in my Way.

[Footnote 1: Addison's papers are marked on the authority of Tickell.]

* * * * *

No. 557. From Friday, June 18 to Monday, June 21, 1714. Addison.

'Quippe domum timet ambiguam, Tyriosque bilingues.'

Virg.

_There is nothing, says Plato, so delightful, as the hearing or the

speaking of Truth_. For this Reason there is no Conversation so

agreeable as that of the Man of Integrity, who hears without any

Intention to betray, and speaks without any Intention to deceive.

Among all the Accounts which are given of _Cato_, I do not remember one

that more redounds to his Honour than the following Passage related by

_Plutarch_. As an Advocate was pleading the Cause of his Client before

one of the Prætors, he could only produce a single Witness in a Point

where the Law required the Testimony of two Persons; upon which the

Advocate insisted on the Integrity of that Person whom he had produced:

but the Prætor told him, That where the Law required two Witnesses he

would not accept of one, tho' it were _Cato_ himself. Such a Speech from

a Person who sat at the Head of a Court of Justice, while _Cato_ was

still living, shews us, more than a thousand Examples, the high

Reputation this great Man had gained among his Contemporaries upon the

Account of his Sincerity.

When such an inflexible Integrity is a little softened and qualified by

the Rules of Conversation and Good-breeding, there is not a more shining

Virtue in the whole Catalogue of Social Duties. A Man however ought to

take great Care not to polish himself out of his Veracity, nor to refine

his Behaviour to the Prejudice of his Virtue.

This Subject is exquisitely treated in the most elegant Sermon of the

great _British_ Preacher [1]. I shall beg Leave to transcribe out of it

two or three Sentences, as a proper Introduction to a very curious

Letter, which I shall make the chief Entertainment of this Speculation.

'The old _English_ Plainness and Sincerity, that generous Integrity of

Nature, and Honesty of Disposition, which always argues true Greatness

of Mind, and is usually accompanied with undaunted Courage and

Resolution, is in a great Measure lost among us.

'The Dialect of Conversation is now-a-days so swelled with Vanity and

Compliment, and so surfeited (as I may say) of Expressions of Kindness

and Respect, that if a Man that lived an Age or two ago should return

into the World again, he would really want a Dictionary to help him to

understand his own Language, and to know the true intrinsick Value of

the Phrase in Fashion; and would hardly, at first, believe at what a

low Rate the highest Strains and Expressions of Kindness imaginable do

commonly pass in current Payment; and when he should come to

understand it, it would be a great while before he could bring himself

with a good Countenance and a good Conscience, to converse with Men

upon equal Terms and in their own Way.'

I have by me a Letter which I look upon as a great Curiosity, and which

may serve as an Exemplification to the foregoing Passage, cited out of

this most excellent Prelate. It is said to have been written in King

_Charles_ II.'s Reign by the Ambassador of _Bantam_ [2], a little after

his Arrival in _England_.

_Master_,

'The People, where I now am, have Tongues further from their Hearts

than from _London_ to _Bantam_, and thou knowest the Inhabitants of

one of these Places does not know what is done in the other. They call

thee and thy Subjects Barbarians, because we speak what we mean; and

account themselves a civilized People, because they speak one thing

and mean another: Truth they call Barbarity, and Falsehood Politeness.

Upon my first landing, one who was sent from the King of this Place to

meet me told me, _That he was extremely sorry for the Storm I had met

with just before my Arrival_. I was troubled to hear him grieve and

afflict himself upon my Account; but in less than a Quarter of an Hour

he smiled, and was as merry as if nothing had happened. Another who

came with him told me by my Interpreter, _He should be glad to do me

any Service that lay in his Power_. Upon which I desir'd him to carry

one of my Portmantaus for me, but instead of serving me according to

his Promise, he laughed, and bid another do it. I lodged, the first

Week, at the House of one, who desired me _to think my self at home,

and to consider his House as my own_. Accordingly, I the next Morning

began to knock down one of the Walls of it, in order to let in the

fresh Air, and had packed up some of the Houshold-Goods, of which I

intended to have made thee a Present: But the false Varlet no sooner

saw me falling to Work, but he sent Word to desire me to give over,

for that he would have no such Doings in his House. I had not been

long in this Nation, before I was told by one, for whom I had asked a

certain Favour from the Chief of the King's Servants, whom they here

call the Lord-Treasurer, That I had _eternally obliged him_. I was so

surpriz'd at his Gratitude, that I could not forbear saying, What

Service is there which one Man can do for another, that can oblige him

to all Eternity! However I only asked him, for my Reward, that he

would lend me his eldest Daughter during my Stay in this Country; but

I quickly found that he was as treacherous as the rest of his

Countrymen.

'At my first going to Court, one of the great Men almost put me out of

Countenance, by asking _ten thousand Pardons_ of me for only treading

by Accident upon my Toe. They call this kind of Lye a Compliment; for

when they are Civil to a great Man, they tell him Untruths, for which

thou wouldst order any of thy Officers of State to receive a hundred

Blows upon his Foot. I do not know how I shall negociate any thing

with this People, since there is so little Credit to be given to 'em.

When I go to see the King's Scribe, I am generally told that he is not

at home, tho' perhaps I saw him go into his House almost the very

Moment before. Thou wouldest fancy that the whole Nation are

Physicians, for the first Question they always ask me, is, _how I do_:

I have this Question put to me above a hundred times a Day. Nay, they

are not only thus inquisitive after my Health, but wish it in a more

solemn Manner, with a full Glass in their Hands, every time I sit with

them at Table, tho' at the same time they would perswade me to drink

their Liquors in such Quantities as I have found by Experience will

make me sick. They often pretend to pray for thy Health also in the

same Manner; but I have more Reason to expect it from the Goodness of

thy Constitution, than the Sincerity of their Wishes. May thy Slave

escape in Safety from this doubled-tongued Race of Men, and live to

lay himself once more at thy Feet in thy Royal City of _Bantam_.'

[Footnote 1: Tillotson. The Sermon 'Of Sincerity Towards God and Man.'

Works, Vol. II., p. 6, folio ed.]

[Footnote 2: In 1682.]

* * * * *

No. 558. Wednesday, June 23, 1714. Addison.

'Qui fit, Mæcenas, ut nemo, quam sibi sortem

Seu ratio dederit, seu fors objecerit, illa

Contentus vivat: laudet diversa sequentes?

O Fortunati mercatores, gravis annis

Miles ait, multo jam fractus membra labore!

Contra mercator, navim jactantibus austris,

Militia est potior. Quid enim? concurritur? horæ

Momenta cita mors venit, aut victoria læta.

Agricolam laudat juris legumque peritus,

Sub galli cantum consultor ubi ostia pulsat.

Ille, datis vadibus, qui rure extractus in urbem est,

Solos felices viventes clamat in urbe.

Cætera de genere hoc (adeo sunt multa) loquacem

Delassare valent Fabium. Ne te morer, audi

Quo rem deducam. Si quis Deus, en ego dicat,

Jam faciam quod vultis: eris tu, qui modo miles,

Mercator: tu consultus modo, rusticus. Hinc vos,

Vos hinc mutatis discedite partibus. Eja,

Quid statis? Nolint. Atque licet esse beatis.'

Hor.

It is a celebrated Thought of _Socrates_, that if all the Misfortunes of

Mankind were cast into a publick Stock, in order to be equally

distributed among the whole Species, those who now think themselves the

most unhappy, would prefer the Share they are already possess'd of,

before that which would fall to them by such a Division. _Horace_ has

carried this Thought a great deal further in the Motto of my Paper,

which implies that the Hardships or Misfortunes we lye under, are more

easy to us than those of any other Person would be, in case we could

change Conditions with him.

As I was ruminating on these two Remarks, and seated in my Elbow-Chair,

I insensibly fell asleep; when, on a sudden, methought there was a

Proclamation made by _Jupiter_, that every Mortal should bring in his

Griefs and Calamities, and throw them together in a Heap. There was a

large Plain appointed for this Purpose. I took my Stand in the Center of

it, and saw with a great deal of Pleasure the whole human Species

marching one after another and throwing down their several Loads, which

immediately grew up into a prodigious Mountain that seemed to rise above

the Clouds.

There was a certain Lady of a thin airy Shape, who was very active in

this Solemnity. She carried a magnifying Glass in one of her Hands, and

was cloathed in a loose flowing Robe, embroidered with several Figures

of Fiends and Spectres, that discovered themselves in a Thousand

chimerical Shapes, as her Garment hovered in the Wind. There was

something wild and distracted in her Look. Her Name was _FANCY_. She led

up every Mortal to the appointed Place, after having very officiously

assisted him in making up his Pack, and laying it upon his Shoulders. My

Heart melted within me to see my Fellow-Creatures groaning under their

respective Burthens, and to consider that prodigious Bulk of human

Calamities which lay before me.

There were however several Persons who gave me great Diversion upon this

Occasion. I observed one bringing in a Fardel very carefully concealed

under an old embroidered Cloak, which, upon his throwing it into the

Heap, I discovered to be Poverty. Another, after a great deal of

puffing, threw down his Luggage; which, upon examining, I found to be

his Wife.

There were Multitudes of Lovers saddled with very whimsical Burthens

composed of Darts and Flames; but, what was very odd, tho' they sighed

as if their Hearts would break under these Bundles of Calamities, they

could not perswade themselves to cast them into the Heap when they came

up to it; but after a few faint efforts, shook their Heads and marched

away as heavy loaden as they came. I saw Multitudes of old Women throw

down their Wrinkles, and several young ones who stripped themselves of a

tawny Skin. There were very great Heaps of red Noses, large Lips, and

rusty Teeth. The Truth of it is, I was surpriz'd to see the greatest

Part of the Mountain made up of bodily Deformities. Observing one

advancing towards the Heap with a larger Cargo than ordinary upon his

Back, I found upon his near Approach, that it was only a natural Hump,

which he disposed of with great Joy of Heart among this Collection of

humane Miseries. There were likewise Distempers of all Sorts, tho' I

could not but observe, that there were many more Imaginary than real.

One little Packet I could not but take Notice of, which was a

Complication of all the Diseases incident to humane Nature, and was in

the Hand of a great many fine People: This was called the Spleen. But

what most of all surprized me, was a Remark I made, that there was not a

single [illegible] Folly thrown into the whole Heap: At which I was very

much astonished, having concluded within my self, that every one would

take this Opportunity of getting rid of his Passions, Prejudices, and

Frailties.

I took Notice in particular of a very profligate Fellow, who I did not

Question came loaden with his Crimes, but upon searching into his

Bundle, I found that instead of throwing his Guilt from him, he had only

laid down his Memory. He was followed by another worthless Rogue who

flung away his Modesty instead of his Ignorance.

When the whole Race of Mankind had thus cast their Burthens, the

_Phantome_ which had been so busie on this Occasion, seeing me an idle

Spectator of what passed, approached towards me. I grew uneasy at her

Presence, when of a sudden she held her magnifying Glass full before my

Eyes. I no sooner saw my Face in it, but was startled at the Shortness

of it, which now appeared to me in its utmost Aggravation. The

immoderate Breadth of the Features made me very much out of Humour with

my own Countenance, upon which I threw it from me like a Mask. It

happened very luckily, that one who stood by me had just before thrown

down his Visage, which, it seems, was too long for him. It was indeed

extended to a most shameful length; I believe the very Chin was,

modestly speaking, as long as my whole Face. We had both of us an

Opportunity of mending our selves, and all the Contributions being now

brought in, every Man was at Liberty to exchange his Misfortune for

those of another Person. But as there arose many new Incidents in the

Sequel of my Vision, I shall reserve them for the Subject of my next

Paper.

* * * * *

No. 559. Friday, June 25, 1714. Addison.

'Quid causæ est, meritò quin illis Jupiter ambas

Iratus buccas inflet: neque se fore posthac

Tam facilem dicat, votis ut præbeat aurem?'

Hor.

In my last Paper, I gave my Reader a Sight of that Mountain of Miseries,

which was made up of those several Calamities that afflict the Minds of

Men. I saw, with unspeakable Pleasure, the whole Species thus delivered

from its Sorrows: though at the same time, as we stood round the Heap,

and surveyed the several Materials of which it was composed, there was

scarce a Mortal in this vast Multitude who did not discover what he

thought Pleasures and Blessings of Life; and wondered how the Owners of

them ever came to look upon them as Burthens and Grievances.

As we were regarding very attentively this Confusion of Miseries, this

Chaos of Calamity, _Jupiter_ issued out a second Proclamation, that

every one was now at Liberty to exchange his Affliction, and to return

to his Habitation with any such other Bundle as should be delivered to

him.

Upon this, _FANCY_ began again to bestir her self, and parcelling out

the whole Heap with incredible Activity, recommended to every one his

particular Packet. The Hurry and Confusion at this time was not to be

expressed. Some Observations, which I made upon the Occasion, I shall

communicate to the Publick. A venerable grey-headed Man, who had laid

down the Cholick, and who I found wanted an Heir to his Estate, snatched

up an undutiful Son that had been thrown into the Heap by his angry

Father. The graceless Youth, in less than a quarter of an Hour, pulled

the old Gentleman by the Beard, and had like to have knocked his Brains

out; so that meeting the true Father, who came towards him in a Fit of

the Gripes, he begg'd him to take his Son again, and give him back his

Cholick; but they were incapable either of them to recede from the

Choice they had made. A poor Gally-Slave, who had thrown down his

Chains, took up the Gout in their stead, but made such wry Faces, that

one might easily perceive he was no great Gainer by the Bargain. It was

pleasant enough to see the several Exchanges that were made, for

Sickness against Poverty, Hunger against want of Appetite, and Care

against Pain.

The Female World were very busie among themselves in bartering for

Features; one was trucking a Lock of grey Hairs for a Carbuncle, another

was making over a short Waste for a Pair of round Shoulders, and a third

cheapning a bad Face for a lost Reputation: But on all these Occasions,

there was not one of them who did not think the new Blemish, as soon as

she had got it into her Possession, much more disagreeable than the old

one. I made the same Observation on every other Misfortune or Calamity,

which every one in the Assembly brought upon himself, in lieu of what he

had parted with; whether it be that all the Evils which befall us are in

some Measure suited and proportioned to our Strength, or that every Evil

becomes more supportable by our being accustomed to it, I shall not

determine.

I could not for my Heart forbear pitying the poor hump-back'd Gentleman

mentioned in the former Paper, who went off a very well-shaped Person

with a Stone in his Bladder; nor the fine Gentleman who had struck up

this Bargain with him, that limped thro' a whole Assembly of Ladies, who

used to admire him, with a Pair of Shoulders peeping over his Head.

I must not omit my own particular Adventure. My Friend with the long

Visage had no sooner taken upon him my short Face, but he made such a

grotesque Figure in it, that as I looked upon him I could not forbear

laughing at my self, insomuch that I put my own Face out of Countenance.

The poor Gentleman was so sensible of the Ridicule, that I found he was

ashamed of what he had done: On the other Side I found that I my self

had no great Reason to triumph, for as I went to touch my Forehead I

missed the Place, and clapped my Finger upon my upper Lip. Besides, as

my Nose was exceeding Prominent, I gave it two or three unlucky Knocks

as I was playing my Hand about my Face, and aiming at some other Part of

it. I saw two other Gentlemen by me, who were in the same ridiculous

Circumstances. These had made a foolish Swop between a Couple of thick

bandy Legs, and two long Trapsticks that had no Calfs to them. One of

these looked like a Man walking upon Stilts, and was so lifted up into

the Air above his ordinary Height, that his Head turned round with it,

while the other made such awkward Circles, as he attempted to walk, that

he scarce knew how to move forward upon his new Supporters: Observing

him to be a pleasant Kind of Fellow, I stuck my Cane in the Ground, and

told him I would lay him a Bottle of Wine, that he did not march up to

it on a Line, that I drew for him, in a Quarter of an Hour.

The Heap was at last distributed among the two Sexes, who made a most

piteous Sight, as they wandered up and down under the Pressure of their

several Burthens. The whole Plain was filled with Murmurs and

Complaints, Groans and Lamentations. _Jupiter_ at length, taking

Compassion on the poor Mortals, ordered them a second time to lay down

their Loads, with a Design to give every one his own again. They

discharged themselves with a great deal of Pleasure, after which, the

Phantome, who had led them into such gross Delusions, was commanded to

disappear. There was sent in her stead a Goddess of a quite different

Figure: Her Motions were steady and composed, and her Aspect serious but

cheerful. She every now and then cast her Eyes towards Heaven, and fixed

them upon _Jupiter_: Her name was _PATIENCE_. She had no sooner placed

her self by the Mount of Sorrows, but, what I thought very remarkable,

the whole Heap sunk to such a Degree, that it did not appear a third

part so big as it was before. She afterwards returned every Man his own

proper Calamity, and teaching him how to bear it in the most commodious

Manner, he marched off with it contentedly, being very well pleased that

he had not been left to his own Choice, as to the kind of Evils which

fell to his Lot.

Besides the several Pieces of Morality to be drawn out of this Vision, I

learnt from it, never to repine at my own Misfortunes, or to envy the

Happiness of another, since it is impossible for any Man to form a right

Judgment of his Neighbour's Sufferings; for which Reason also I have

determined never to think too lightly of another's Complaints, but to

regard the Sorrows of my Fellow Creatures with Sentiments of Humanity

and Compassion.

* * * * *

No. 560. Monday, June 28, 1714. Addison.

'--Verba intermissa retentat.'

Ov. Met.

Every one has heard of the Famous Conjurer, who, according to the

Opinion of the Vulgar, has studied himself _dumb_; for which Reason, as

it is believed, he delivers out all his Oracles in Writing. Be that as

it will, the blind _Tiresias_ was not more famous in _Greece_, than this

dumb Artist has been, for some Years last past, in the Cities of

_London_ and _Westminster_. Thus much for the profound Gentleman who

honours me with the following Epistle.

_From my Cell_, June 24, 1714.

_SIR,_

'Being informed that you have lately got the Use of your Tongue, I

have some Thoughts of following your Example, that I may be a

_Fortune-teller_ properly speaking. I am grown weary of my

Taciturnity, and having served my Country many Years under the Title

of the dumb Doctor, I shall now prophesie by Word of Mouth, and (as

Mr. _Lee_ says of the Magpie, who you know was a great Fortune-teller

among the Ancients) _chatter_ Futurity. I have hitherto chosen to

receive Questions and return Answers in Writing, that I might avoid

the Tediousness and Trouble of Debates, my Querists being generally of

a Humour to think, that they have never Predictions enough for their

Mony. In short, Sir, my Case has been something like that of those

discreet Animals the Monkeys, who, as the _Indians_ tell us, can speak

if they would, but purposely avoid it that they may not be made to

work. I have hitherto gained a Livelyhood by holding my Tongue, but

shall now open my Mouth in order to fill it. If I appear a little

Word-bound in my first Solutions and Responses, I hope it will not be

imputed to any Want of Foresight, but to the long Disuse of Speech. I

doubt not by this Invention to have all my former Customers over

again, for if I have promised any of them Lovers or Husbands, Riches

or good Luck, it is my Design to confirm to them _vivâ voce_, what I

have already given them under my Hand. If you will honour me with a

Visit, I will compliment you with the first opening of my Mouth, and

if you please you may make an entertaining Dialogue out of the

Conversation of two dumb Men. Excuse this Trouble, worthy Sir, from

one who has been a long time

_Your Silent Admirer_,

Cornelius Agrippa.'

I have received the following Letter, or rather _Billet-doux_, from a

pert young Baggage, who congratulates with me upon the same Occasion.

_June 23, 1714._

_Dear Mr._ Prate-apace,

'I am a Member of a Female Society who call ourselves the _Chit-Chat_

Club, and am ordered by the whole Sisterhood, to congratulate you upon

the Use of your Tongue. We have all of us a mighty Mind to hear you

talk, and if you will take your Place among us for an Evening, we have

unanimously agreed to allow you one Minute in ten, without

Interruption.

_I am, SIR,

Your Humble Servant,_

S. T.

P. S. '_You may find us at my Lady Betty_ Clack's, _who will leave

Orders with her Porter, that if an elderly Gentleman, with a short

Face, enquires for her, he shall be admitted and no Questions asked._

As this particular Paper shall consist wholly of what I have received

from my Correspondents, I shall fill up the remaining Part of it with

other congratulatory Letters of the same Nature.

_Oxford, June 25, 1714._

_SIR,_

'We are here wonderfully pleased with the Opening of your Mouth, and

very frequently open ours in Approbation of your Design; especially

since we find you are resolved to preserve your Taciturnity as to all

Party Matters. We do not question but you are as great an Orator as

Sir _Hudibras_, of whom the Poet sweetly sings,

'--He could not ope

His Mouth, but out there flew a Trope.'

'If you will send us down the Half-dozen well-turned Periods, that

produced such dismal Effects in your Muscles, we will deposite them

near an old Manuscript of _Tully's_ Orations, among the Archives of

the University; for we all agree with you, that there is not a more

remarkable Accident recorded in History, since that which happened to

the Son of _Croesus_, nay, I believe you might have gone higher, and

have added _Balaam's_ Ass. We are impatient to see more of your

Productions, and expect what Words will next fall from you, with as

much attention as those, who were set to watch the speaking Head which

Friar _Bacon_ formerly erected in this Place.

We are,

_Worthy SIR_,

_Your most humble Servants_,

B. R. T. D., &c.

_Honest_ SPEC.

_Middle-Temple, June 24_.

'I am very glad to hear that thou beginnest to prate; and find, by thy

Yesterday's Vision, thou art so used to it, that thou canst not

forbear talking in thy Sleep. Let me only advise thee to speak like

other Men, for I am afraid thou wilt be very Queer, if thou dost not

intend to use the Phrases in Fashion, as thou callest them in thy

Second Paper. Hast thou a Mind to pass for a _Bantamite_, or to make

us all _Quakers_? I do assure thee, Dear SPEC, I am not Polished out

of my Veracity, when I subscribe my self

_Thy Constant Admirer,

and humble Servant,_

Frank Townly.

* * * * *

No. 561. Wednesday, June 30, 1714. Addison.

'--Paulatim abolere Sichæum

Incipit, et vivo tentat prævertere amore

Jampridem resides animos desuetaque corda.'

Virg.

SIR,

'I am a tall, broad-shoulder'd, impudent, black Fellow, and, as I

thought, every way qualified for a rich Widow: But, after having tried

my Fortune for above three Years together, I have not been able to get

one single Relict in the Mind. My first Attacks were generally

successful, but always broke off as soon as they came to the Word

_Settlement_. Though I have not improved my Fortune this way, I have

my Experience, and have learnt several Secrets which may be of use to

those unhappy Gentlemen, who are commonly distinguished by the Name of

Widow-hunters, and who do not know that this Tribe of Women are,

generally speaking, as much upon the Catch as themselves. I shall here

communicate to you the Mysteries of a certain Female Cabal of this

Order, who call themselves the _Widow-Club_. This Club consists of

nine experienced Dames, who take their Places once a Week round a

large oval Table.

I. Mrs. President is a Person who has disposed of six Husbands, and is

now determined to take a seventh; being of Opinion that there is as

much Vertue in the Touch of a seventh Husband as of a seventh Son. Her

Comrades are as follow.

II. Mrs. _Snapp_, who has four Jointures, by four different

Bed-fellows, of four different Shires. She is at present upon the

Point of Marriage with a _Middlesex_ Man, and is said to have an

Ambition of extending her Possessions through all the Counties in

_England_ on this Side the _Trent_.

III. Mrs. _Medlar_, who after two Husbands and a Gallant, is now

wedded to an old Gentleman of Sixty. Upon her making her Report to the

Club after a Weeks Cohabitation, she is still allowed to sit as a

Widow, and accordingly takes her Place at the Board.

IV. The Widow _Quick_, married within a Fortnight after the Death of

her last Husband. Her _Weeds_ have served her thrice, and are still as

good as new.

V. Lady _Catherine Swallow_. She was a Widow at Eighteen, and has

since buried a second Husband and two Coachmen.

VI. The Lady _Waddle_. She was married in the 15th Year of her Age to

Sir _Simon Waddle_, Knight, aged Threescore and Twelve, by whom she

had Twinns nine Months after his Decease. In the 55th Year of her Age

she was married to _James Spindle_, Esq.; a Youth of One and Twenty,

who did not out-live the Honey-Moon.

VII. _Deborah Conquest_. The Case of this Lady is something

particular. She is the Relict of _Sir Sampson Conquest_, some time

Justice of the _Quorum_. Sir _Sampson_ was seven Foot high, and two

Foot in Breadth from the Tip of one Shoulder to the other. He had

married three Wives, who all of them died in Child-bed. This terrified

the whole Sex, who none of them durst venture on Sir _Sampson_. At

length Mrs. _Deborah_ undertook him, and gave so good an Account of

him, that in three Years time she very fairly laid him out, and

measured his Length upon the Ground. This Exploit has gained her so

great a Reputation in the Club, that they have added Sir _Sampson's_

three Victories to hers, and give her the Merit of a fourth Widowhood;

and she takes her Place accordingly.

'VIII. The Widow _Wildfire_, Relict of Mr. _John Wildfire_,

Fox-hunter, who broke his Neck over a six Bar Gate. She took his Death

so much to Heart, that it was thought it would have put an End to her

Life, had she not diverted her Sorrows by receiving the Addresses of a

Gentleman in the Neighbourhood, who made Love to her in the second

Month of her Widowhood. This Gentleman was discarded in a Fortnight

for the sake of a young _Templar_, who had the Possession of her for

six Weeks after, till he was beaten out by a broken Officer, who

likewise gave up his Place to a Gentleman at Court. The Courtier was

as short-liv'd a Favourite as his Predecessors, but had the Pleasure

to see himself succeeded by a long Series of Lovers, who followed the

Widow _Wildfire_ to the 37th Year of her Age, at which time there

ensued a Cessation of ten Years, when _John Felt_, Haberdasher, took

it in his Head to be in love with her, and it is thought will very

suddenly carry her off.

'IX. The last is pretty Mrs. _Runnet_, who broke her first Husband's

Heart before she was Sixteen, at which Time she was entred of the

Club, but soon after left it, upon Account of a Second, whom she made

so quick a Dispatch of, that she returned to her Seat in less than a

Twelvemonth. This young Matron is looked upon as the most rising

Member of the Society, and will probably be in the President's Chair

before she dies.

'These Ladies, upon their first Institution, resolved to give the

Pictures of their deceased Husbands to the Club-Room, but two of them

bringing in their Dead at full Length, they cover'd all the Walls;

Upon which they came to a second Resolution, that every Matron should

give her own Picture, and set it round with her Husbands in Miniature.

As they have most of them the Misfortune to be troubled with the

Cholick, they have a noble Celler of Cordials and strong Waters. When

they grow Maudlin, they are very apt to commemorate their former

Partners with a Tear. But ask them which of their Husbands they

Condole, they are not able to tell you, and discover plainly that they

do not Weep so much for the Loss of a Husband, as for the want of One.

'The principal Rule, by which the whole Society are to govern

themselves is this, To cry up the Pleasures of a single Life upon all

Occasions, in order to deter the rest of their Sex from Marriage, and

engross the whole Male World to themselves.

'They are obliged, when any one makes Love to a Member of the Society,

to communicate his Name, at which Time the whole Assembly sit upon his

Reputation, Person, Fortune, and good Humour; and if they find him

qualified for a Sister of the Club, they lay their Heads together how

to make him sure. By this Means they are acquainted with all the

Widow-hunters about Town, who often afford them great Diversion. There

is an honest _Irish_ Gentleman, it seems, who knows nothing of this

Society, but at different times has made Love to the whole Club.

Their Conversation often turns upon their former Husbands, and it is

very diverting to hear them relate their several Arts and Stratagems,

with which they amused the Jealous, pacified the Chokrick, or wheedled

the Good-natured Man, till at last, to use the Club Phrase, _They sent

him out of the House with his Heels foremost_.

The Politicks, which are most cultivated by this Society of

She-_Machiavils_, relate chiefly to these two Points: How to treat a

Lover, and How to manage a Husband. As for the first Set of Artifices,

they are too numerous to come within the Compass of your Paper, and

shall therefore be reserved for a Second Letter.

The Management of a Husband is built upon the following Doctrines,

which are Universally assented to by the whole Club. Not to give him

his Head at first. Not to allow him too great Freedoms and

Familiarities. Not to be treated by him like a raw Girl, but as a

Woman that knows the World. Not to Lessen anything of her former

Figure. To celebrate the Generosity, or any other Vertue, of a

deceased Husband, which she would recommend to his Successor. To turn

away all his old Friends and Servants, that she may have the Dear Man

to her self. To make him disinherit the undutiful Children of any

former Wife. Never to be thoroughly convinced of his Affection, till

he has made over to her all his Goods and Chattels.

'After so long a Letter, I am, without more Ceremony,

_Your Humble Servant, &c._

* * * * *

No. 562. Friday, July 2, 1714. Addison.

'--Præsens, absens ut sies.'

Ter.

_It is a hard and nice Subject for a Man to speak of himself, says

Cowley; [1] it grates his own Heart to say anything of Disparagement,

and the Reader's Ears to hear any thing of Praise from him._ Let the

Tenour of his Discourse be what it will upon this Subject, it generally

proceeds from _Vanity_. An ostentatious Man will rather relate a Blunder

or an Absurdity he has committed, than be debarred from talking of his

own dear Person.

Some very great Writers have been guilty of this Fault. It is observed

of _Tully_ in particular, that his Works run very much in the First

Person, and that he takes all Occasions of doing himself Justice.

'Does he think, says _Brutus_, that his Consulship deserves more

Applause than my putting _Cæsar_ to Death, because I am not

perpetually talking of the Ides of _March_, as he is of the Nones of

_December_?'

I need not acquaint my learned Reader, that in the Ides of _March,

Brutus_ destroyed _Cæsar_, and that _Cicero_ quashed the Conspiracy of

_Cataline_ in the Calends of _December_. How shocking soever this great

Man's talking of himself might have been to his Contemporaries, I must

confess I am never better pleased than when he is on this Subject. Such

Openings of the Heart give a Man a thorough Insight into his Personal

Character, and illustrate several Passages in the History of his Life:

Besides that, there is some little Pleasure in discovering the Infirmity

of a great Man, and seeing how the Opinion he has of himself agrees with

what the World entertains of him.

The Gentlemen of _Port-Royal_, who were more eminent for their Learning

and their Humility than any other in _France_, banish'd the way of

speaking in the First Person out of all their Works, as arising from

Vain-Glory and Self-Conceit. To shew their particular Aversion to it,

they branded this Form of Writing with the Name of an _Egotism_; a

Figure not to be found among the ancient Rhetoricians.

The most violent Egotism which I have met with in the Course of my

Reading, is that of Cardinal _Wolsey, Ego et Rex meus, I and my King_;

as perhaps the most eminent Egotist that ever appeared in the World, was

_Montagne_ the Author of the celebrated Essays. This lively old _Gascon_

has woven all his bodily Infirmities into his Works, and after having

spoken of the Faults or Virtues of any other Man, immediately publishes

to the World how it stands with himself in that Particular. Had he kept

his own Counsel he might have passed for a much better Man, though

perhaps he would not have been so diverting an Author. The Title of an

Essay promises perhaps a Discourse upon _Virgil_ or _Julius Cæsar_; but

when you look into it, you are sure to meet with more upon Monsieur

_Montagne_, than of either of them. The younger _Scaliger_, who seems to

have been no great Friend to this Author, after having acquainted the

World that his Father sold Herrings, adds these Words; _La grande

fadaise de Montague, qui a escrit, qu'il aimoit mieux le vin blanc--que

diable a-t-on a faire de scavoir ce qu'il aime? For my Part, says

Montague, I am a great Lover of your White Wines--What the Devil

signifies it to the Publick, says Scaliger, whether he is a Lover of

White Wines or of Red Wines?_

I cannot here forbear mentioning a Tribe of Egotists for whom I have

always had a mortal Aversion, I mean the Authors of Memoirs, who are

never mentioned in any Works but their own, and who raise all their

Productions out of this single Figure of Speech.

Most of our modern Prefaces savour very strongly of the Egotism. Every

insignificant Author fancies it of Importance to the World, to know that

he writ his Book in the Country, that he did it to pass away some of his

idle Hours, that it was published at the Importunity of Friends, or that

his natural Temper, Studies or Conversations, directed him to the Choice

of his Subject.

'--Id populus curat scilicet.'

Such Informations cannot but be highly improving to the Reader.

In Works of Humour, especially when a Man writes under a fictitious

Personage, the talking of one's self may give some Diversion to the

Publick; but I would advise every other Writer never to speak of

himself, unless there be something very considerable in his Character:

Tho' I am sensible this Rule will be of little Use in the World, because

there is no Man who fancies his Thoughts worth publishing, that does not

look upon himself as a considerable Person.

I shall close this Paper with a Remark upon such as are Egotists in

Conversation: These are generally the vain or shallow part of Mankind,

People being naturally full of themselves when they have nothing else in

them. There is one kind of Egotists which is very common in the World,

tho' I do not remember that any Writer has taken Notice of them; I mean

those empty conceited Fellows, who repeat as Sayings of their own, or

some of their particular Friends, several Jests which were made before

they were born, and which every one who has conversed in the World has

heard a hundred times over. A forward young Fellow of my Acquaintance

was very guilty of this Absurdity: He would be always laying a new Scene

for some old Piece of Wit, and telling us, That as he and _Jack_

such-a-one were together, one or t'other of them had such a Conceit on

such an Occasion; upon which he would laugh very heartily, and wonder

the Company did not join with him. When his Mirth was over, I have often

reprehended him out of _Terence, Tuumne, obsecro te, hoc dictum erat?

vetus credidi_. But finding him still incorrigible, and having a

Kindness for the young Coxcomb, who was otherwise a good-natured Fellow,

I recommended to his Perusal the _Oxford_ and _Cambridge_ Jests, with

several little Pieces of Pleasantry of the same Nature. Upon the reading

of them, he was under no small Confusion to find that all his Jokes had

passed through several Editions, and that what he thought was a new

Conceit, and had appropriated to his own Use, had appeared in Print

before he or his ingenious Friends were ever heard of. This had so good

an Effect upon him, that he is content at present to pass for a Man of

plain Sense in his ordinary Conversation, and is never facetious but

when he knows his Company.

[Footnote 1: Essay 2.]

* * * * *

No. 563. Monday, July 5, 1714.

'--Magni nominis Umbra--'

Lucan.

I shall entertain my Reader with two very curious Letters. The first of

them comes from a chimerical Person, who I believe never writ to any

Body before.

SIR,

'I am descended from the Ancient Family of the _Blanks_, a Name well

known among all Men of Business. It is always read in those little

white Spaces of Writing which want to be filled up, and which for that

Reason are called _blank_ Spaces, as of right appertaining to our

Family: For I consider my self as the Lord of a Mannor, who lays his

Claim to all Wastes or Spots of Ground that are unappropriated. I am a

near Kinsman to _John a Styles_ and _John a Nokes_; and they, I am

told, came in with the Conquerour. I am mentioned oftner in both

Houses of Parliament than any other Person in Great Britain. My Name

is written, or more properly speaking, not written, thus, .

I am one that can turn my Hand to every thing, and appear under any

Shape whatsoever. I can make my self Man, Woman, or Child. I am

sometimes metamorphosed into a Year of our Lord, a Day of the Month,

or an Hour of the Day. I very often represent a Sum of Mony, and am

generally the first Subsidy that is granted to the Crown. I have now

and then supplied the Place of several Thousands of Land Soldiers, and

have as frequently been employed in the Sea Service.

'Now, Sir, my Complaint is this, that I am only made use of to serve a

Turn, being always discarded as soon as a proper Person is found out

to fill up my Place.

'If you have ever been in the Play-house before the Curtain rises, you

see most of the Front Boxes filled with Men of my Family, who

forthwith turn out and resign their Stations upon the Appearance of

those for whom they are retained.

'But the most illustrious Branch of the _Blanks_ are those who are

planted in high Posts, till such time as Persons of greater

Consequence can be found out to supply them. One of these _Blanks_ is

equally qualified for all Offices; he can serve in time of Need for a

Soldier, a Politician, a Lawyer, or what you please. I have known in

my Time many a Brother _Blank_ that has been born under a lucky

Planet, heap up great Riches, and swell into a Man of Figure and

Importance, before the Grandees of his Party could agree among

themselves which of them should step into his Place. Nay, I have known

a _Blank_ continue so long in one of these vacant Posts, (for such it

is to be reckoned all the Time a _Blank_ is in it) that he has grown

too formidable and dangerous to be removed.

'But to return to my self, since I am so very commodious a Person, and

so very necessary in all well-regulated Governments, I desire you will

take my Case into Consideration, that I may be no longer made a Tool

of, and only employed to stop a Gap. Such Usage, without a Pun, makes

me look very blank. For all which Reasons I humbly recommend my self

to your Protection, and am _Your most obedient Servant_,

'Blank.

'P.S. I herewith send you a Paper, drawn up by a Country Attorney

employed by two Gentlemen, whose Names he was not acquainted with, and

who did not think fit to let him into the Secret which they were

transacting. I heard him call it a Blank Instrument, and read it after

the following Manner. You may see by this single Instance of what Use

I am to the busy World.

'_I_ T. Blank, _Esq., of_ Blank _Town, in the County of_ Blank, _do

own my self indebted in the Sum of_ Blank, _to Goodman_ Blank, _for

the Service he did me in procuring for me the Goods following,_

Blank: _And I do hereby promise the said_ Blank _to pay unto him the

said Sum of_ Blank, _on the_ Blank _Day of the Month of_ Blank _next

ensuing, under the Penalty and Forfeiture of_ Blank.

I shall take Time to consider the Case of this my imaginary

Correspondent, and in the mean while shall present my Reader with a

Letter which seems to come from a Person that is made up of Flesh and

Blood.

_Good Mr._ SPECTATOR,

'I am married to a very honest Gentleman that is exceedingly

good-natured, and at the same time very cholerick. There is no

standing before him when he is in a Passion; but as soon as it is over

he is the best-humour'd Creature in the World. When he is angry, he

breaks all my China-Ware that chances to lie in his Way, and the next

Morning sends me in twice as much as he broke the Day before. I may

positively say, that he has broke me a Child's Fortune since we were

first marry'd together.

'As soon as he begins to fret, down goes every thing that is within

Reach of his Cane. I once prevailed upon him never to carry a Stick in

his Hand, but this saved me nothing; for upon seeing me do something

that did not please him, he kicked down a great Jarr, that cost him

above Ten Pound but the Week before. I then laid the Fragments

together in a Heap, and gave him his Cane again, desiring him that if

he chanced to be in Anger, he would spend his Passion upon the China

that was broke to his Hand: But the very next Day upon my giving a

wrong Message to one of the Servants, he flew into such a Rage, that

he swept down a Dozen Tea-Dishes, which, to my Misfortune, stood very

convenient for a Side-Blow.

I then removed all my China into a Room which he never frequents; but

I got nothing by this neither, for my Looking-Glasses immediately went

to Rack.

'In short, Sir, whenever he is in a Passion he is angry at every thing

that is brittle; and if on such Occasions he had nothing to vent his

Rage upon, I do not know whether my Bones would be in Safety. Let me

beg of you, Sir, to let me know whether there be any Cure for this

unaccountable Distemper; or if not, that you will be pleased to

publish this Letter: For my Husband having a great Veneration for your

Writings, will by that means know you do not approve of his Conduct. I

am,

Your most humble Servant, &c.

* * * * *

No. 564. Wednesday, July 7, 1714.

'--Adsit

Regula, peccatis quæ poenas irroget æquas:

Ne Scutica dignum horribili sectere flagello.'

Hor.

It is the Work of a Philosopher to be every Day subduing his Passions,

and laying aside his Prejudices. I endeavour at least to look upon Men

and their Actions only as an impartial Spectator, without any regard to

them as they happen to advance or cross my own private Interest. But

while I am thus employed my self, I cannot help observing, how those

about me suffer themselves to be blinded by Prejudice and Inclination,

how readily they pronounce on every Man's Character, which they can give

in two Words, and make him either good for nothing, or qualified for

every thing. On the contrary, those who search thoroughly into humane

Nature, will find it much more difficult to determine the Value of their

Fellow-Creatures, and that Mens Characters are not thus to be given in

general Words. There is indeed no such thing as a Person entirely good

or bad; Virtue and Vice are blended and mixed together, in a greater or

less Proportion, in every one; and if you would search for some

particular good Quality in its most eminent Degree of Perfection, you

will often find it in a Mind, where it is darkned and eclipsed by an

hundred other irregular Passions.

Men have either no Character at all, says a celebrated Author, or it is

that of being inconsistent with themselves. They find it easier to join

Extremities, than to be uniform and of a Piece. This is finely

illustrated in _Xenophon's_ Life of _Cyrus_ the Great. That Author tells

us, that _Cyrus_ having taken a most beautiful Lady named _Panthea_, the

Wife of _Abradatas_, committed her to the Custody of _Araspas_, a young

_Persian_ Nobleman, who had a little before maintain'd in Discourse,

that a Mind truly virtuous was incapable of entertaining an unlawful

Passion. The young Gentleman had not long been in Possession of his fair

Captive, when a Complaint was made to _Cyrus_, that he not only

sollicited the Lady _Panthea_ to receive him in the Room of her absent

Husband, but that finding his Entreaties had no Effect, he was preparing

to make use of Force. _Cyrus_, who loved the young Man, immediately sent

for him, and in a gentle Manner representing to him his Fault, and

putting him in Mind of his former Assertion, the unhappy Youth,

confounded with a quick Sense of his Guilt and Shame, burst out into a

Flood of Tears, and spoke as follows.

_Oh_ Cyrus, _I am convinced that I hare two Souls. Love has taught me

this Piece of Philosophy. If I had but one Soul, it could not at the

same time pant after Virtue and Vice, wish and abhor the same thing. It

is certain therefore we have two Souls: When the good Soul rules, I

undertake noble and virtuous Actions; but when the bad Soul

predominates, I am forced to do Evil. All I can say at present is, that

I find my good Soul, encouraged by your Presence, has got the Better of

my bad_.

I know not whether my Readers will allow of this Piece of Philosophy;

but if they will not, they must confess we meet with as different

Passions in one and the same Soul, as can be supposed in two. We can

hardly read the Life of a great Man who lived in former Ages, or

converse with any who is eminent among our Contemporaries, that is not

an Instance of what I am saying.

But as I have hitherto only argued against the Partiality and Injustice

of giving our Judgment upon Men in gross, who are such a Composition of

Virtues and Vices, of Good and Evil; I might carry this Reflection still

farther, and make it extend to most of their Actions. If on the one

Hand, we fairly weighed every Circumstance, we should frequently find

them obliged to do that Action we at first sight condemn, in order to

avoid another we should have been much more displeased with. If on the

other Hand we nicely examined such Actions as appear most dazzling to

the Eye, we should find most of them either deficient and lame in

several Parts, produced by a bad Ambition, or directed to an ill End.

The very same Action may sometimes be so oddly circumstanced, that it is

difficult to determine whether it ought to be rewarded or punish'd.

Those who compiled the Laws of _England_ were so sensible of this, that

they have laid it down as one of their first Maxims, _It is better

suffering a Mischief than an Inconvenience_; which is as much as to say

in other Words, That since no Law can take in or provide for all Cases,

it is better private Men should have some Injustice done them, than that

a public Grievance should not be redressed. This is usually pleaded in

Defence of all those Hardships which fall on particular Persons in

particular Occasions, which could not be foreseen when a Law was made.

To remedy this however as much as possible, the Court of Chancery was

erected, which frequently mitigates and breaks the Teeth of the Common

Law, in Cases of Men's Properties, while in Criminal Cases there is a

Power of pardoning still lodged in the Crown.

Notwithstanding this, it is perhaps impossible in a large Government to

distribute Rewards and Punishments strictly proportioned to the Merits

of every Action. The _Spartan_ Commonwealth was indeed wonderfully exact

in this Particular; and I do not remember in all my Reading to have met

with so nice an Example of Justice as that recorded by _Plutarch_, with

which I shall close my Paper for this Day.

The City of _Sparta_ being unexpectedly attacked by a powerful Army of

_Thebans_, was in very great Danger of falling into the Hands of their

Enemies. The Citizens suddenly gathering themselves into a Body, fought

with a Resolution equal to the Necessity of their Affairs, yet no one so

remarkably distinguished himself on this Occasion, to the Amazement of

both Armies, as _Isadas_ the Son of _Phoebidas_, who was at that time in

the Bloom of his Youth, and very remarkable for the Comeliness of his

Person. He was coming out of the Bath when the Alarm was given, so that

he had not time to put on his Cloaths, much less his Armour; however

transported with a Desire to serve his Country in so great an Exigency,

snatching up a Spear in one Hand, and a Sword in the other, he flung

himself into the thickest Ranks of his Enemies. Nothing could withstand

his Fury: in what Part soever he fought he put the Enemies to Flight

without receiving a single Wound. Whether, says _Plutarch_, he was the

particular Care of some God, who rewarded his Valour that Day with an

extraordinary Protection, or, that his Enemies, struck with the

Unusualness of his Dress, and Beauty of his Shape, supposed him

something more than Man, I shall not determine.

The Gallantry of this Action was judged so great by the _Spartans_, that

the _Ephori_, or chief Magistrates, decreed he should be presented with

a Garland; but as soon as they had done so, fined him a thousand

Drachmas for going out to the Battle unarmed.

* * * * *

No. 565. Friday, July 9, 1714. Addison.

'--Deum namque ire per omnes

Terrasque, tractusque maris, coelumque profundum.'

Virg.

I was Yesterday about Sun-set walking in the open Fields, 'till the

Night insensibly fell upon me. I at first amused my self with all the

Richness and Variety of Colours, which appeared in the Western Parts of

Heaven: In Proportion as they faded away and went out, several Stars and

Planets appeared one after another 'till the whole Firmament was in a

Glow. The Blewness of the _Æther_ was exceedingly heightened and

enlivened by the Season of the Year, and by the Rays of all those

Luminaries that passed through it. The _Galaxy_ appeared in its most

beautiful White. To compleat the Scene, the full Moon rose at length in

that clouded Majesty, which _Milton_ takes Notice of, and opened to the

Eye a new Picture of Nature, which was more finely shaded, and disposed

among softer Lights than that which the Sun had before discovered to us.

As I was surveying the Moon walking in her Brightness and taking her

Progress among the Constellations, a Thought rose in me which I believe

very often perplexes and disturbs Men of serious and contemplative

Natures. _David_ himself fell into it in that Reflection,

_When I consider the Heavens the Work of thy Fingers, the Moon and the

Stars which thou hast ordained; what is man that thou art mindful of

him, and the son of man that thou regardest him!_

In the same manner when I considered that infinite Host of Stars, or, to

speak more Philosophically, of Suns, which were then shining upon me,

with those innumerable Sets of Planets or Worlds, which were moving

round their respective Suns; When I still enlarged the Idea, and

supposed another Heaven of Suns and Worlds rising still above this which

we discovered, and these still enlightened by a superior Firmament of

Luminaries, which are planted at so great a Distance, that they may

appear to the Inhabitants of the former as the Stars do to us; In short,

whilst I pursued this Thought, I could not but reflect on that little

insignificant Figure which I my self bore amidst the Immensity of God's

Works.

Were the Sun, which enlightens this Part of the Creation, with all the

Host of Planetary Worlds, that move about him, utterly extinguished and

annihilated, they would not be missed more than a grain of Sand upon the

Sea-shore. The Space they possess is so exceedingly little, in

Comparison of the whole, that it would scarce make a _Blank_ in the

Creation. The Chasm would be imperceptible to an Eye, that could take in

the whole Compass of Nature, and pass from one end of the Creation to

the other, as it is possible there may be such a Sense in our selves

hereafter, or in Creatures which are at present more exalted than our

selves. We see many Stars by the help of Glasses, which we do not

discover with our naked Eyes; and the finer our Telescopes are, the more

still are our Discoveries. _Huygenius_ carries this Thought so far, that

he does not think it impossible there may be Stars whose Light is not

yet travelled down to us, since their first Creation. There is no

Question but the Universe has certain Bounds set to it; but when we

consider that it is the Work of infinite Power, prompted by infinite

Goodness, with an infinite Space to exert it self in, how can our

Imagination set any Bounds to it?

To return therefore to my first Thought, I could not but look upon

myself with secret Horrour, as a Being that was not worth the smallest

Regard of one who had so great a Work under his Care and

Superintendency. I was afraid of being overlooked amidst the Immensity

of Nature, and lost among that infinite Variety of Creatures, which in

all Probability swarm through all these immeasurable Regions of Matter.

In order to recover my self from this mortifying Thought, I considered

that it took its Rise from those narrow Conceptions, which we are apt to

entertain of the Divine Nature. We our selves cannot attend to many

different Objects at the same Time. If we are careful to inspect some

Things, we must of Course neglect others. This Imperfection which we

observe in our selves, is an Imperfection that cleaves in some Degree to

Creatures of the highest Capacities, as they are Creatures, that is,

Beings of finite and limited Natures. The Presence of every created

Being is confined to a certain Measure of Space, and consequently his

Observation is stinted to a certain number of Objects. The Sphere in

which we move, and act, and understand, is of a wider Circumference to

one Creature than another, according as we rise one above another in the

Scale of Existence. But the widest of these our Spheres has its

Circumference. When therefore we reflect on the Divine Nature, we are so

used and accustomed to this Imperfection in our selves, that we cannot

forbear in some measure ascribing it to him in whom there is no shadow

of Imperfection. Our Reason indeed assures us that his Attributes are

Infinite, but the Poorness of our Conceptions is such, that it cannot

forbear setting Bounds to every Thing it contemplates, till our Reason

comes again to our Succour, and throws down all those little Prejudices

which rise in us unawares, and are natural to the Mind of Man.

We shall therefore utterly extinguish this melancholy Thought, of our

being overlooked by our Maker in the Multiplicity of his Works, and the

Infinity of those Objects among which he seems to be incessantly

employed, if we consider, in the first Place, that he is Omnipresent;

and, in the second, that he is Omniscient.

If we consider him in his Omnipresence: His Being passes through,

actuates, and supports the whole Frame of Nature. His Creation, and

every Part of it, is full of him. There is nothing he has made, that is

either so distant, so little, or so inconsiderable, which he does not

essentially inhabit. His Substance is within the Substance of every

Being, whether material, or immaterial, and as intimately present to it

as that Being is to it self. It would be an Imperfection in him, were he

able to remove out of one Place into another, or to withdraw himself

from any Thing he has created, or from any Part of that Space which is

diffused and spread abroad to Infinity. In short, to speak of him in the

Language of the old Philosopher, he is a Being whose Centre is every

where, and his Circumference no where.

In the second Place, he is Omniscient as well as Omnipresent. His

Omniscience indeed necessarily and naturally flows from his

Omnipresence; he cannot but be conscious of every Motion that arises in

the whole material World, which he thus essentially pervades, and of

every Thought that is stirring in the intellectual World, to every Part

of which he is thus intimately united. Several Moralists have considered

the Creation as the Temple of God, which he has built with his own

Hands, and which is filled with his Presence. Others have considered

infinite Space as the Receptacle, or rather the Habitation of the

Almighty: But the noblest and most exalted Way of considering this

infinite Space is that of Sir _Isaac Newton_, who calls it the

_Sensorium_ of the Godhead. Brutes and Men have their _Sensoriola_, or

little _Sensoriums_, by which they apprehend the Presence and perceive

the Actions of a few Objects, that lie contiguous to them. Their

Knowledge and Observation turns within a very narrow Circle. But as God

Almighty cannot but perceive and know every Thing in which he resides,

Infinite Space gives Room to Infinite Knowledge, and is, as it were, an

Organ to Omniscience.

Were the Soul separate from the Body, and with one Glance of Thought

should start beyond the Bounds of the Creation, should it for Millions

of Years continue its Progress through Infinite Space with the same

Activity, it would still find it self within the Embrace of its Creator,

and encompassed round with the Immensity of the Godhead. Whilst we are

in the Body he is not less present with us, because he is concealed from

us.

_O that I knew where I might find him!_ says _Job. Behold I go

forward, but he is not there; and backward, but I cannot perceive him.

On the left hand, where he does work, but I cannot behold him: he

hideth himself on the right hand, that I cannot see him._

In short, Reason as well as Revelation assures us, that he cannot be

absent from us, notwithstanding he is undiscovered by us.

In this Consideration of God Almighty's Omnipresence and Omniscience

every uncomfortable Thought vanishes. He cannot but regard every Thing

that has Being, especially such of his Creatures who fear they are not

regarded by him. He is privy to all their Thoughts, and to that Anxiety

of Heart in particular, which is apt to trouble them on this Occasion:

For, as it is impossible he should overlook any of his Creatures, so we

may be confident that he regards, with an Eye of Mercy, those who

endeavour to recommend themselves to his Notice, and in an unfeigned

Humility of Heart think themselves unworthy that he should be mindful of

them.

* * * * *

No. 566. Monday, July 12, 1714.

'Militia Species Amor est.'

Ovid.

As my Correspondents begin to grow pretty numerous, I think my self

obliged to take some Notice of them, and shall therefore make this Paper

a Miscellany of Letters. I have, since my reassuming the Office of

SPECTATOR, received abundance of Epistles from Gentlemen of the Blade,

who, I find, have been so used to Action that they know not how to lie

still: They seem generally to be of Opinion, that the Fair at home ought

to reward them for their Services abroad, and that, till the Cause of

their Country calls them again into the Field, they have a sort of Right

to Quarter themselves upon the Ladies. In Order to favour their

Approaches, I am desired by some to enlarge upon the Accomplishments of

their Profession, and by others to give them my Advice in the carrying

on of their Attacks. But let us hear what the Gentlemen say for

themselves.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

'Tho' it may look somewhat perverse amidst the Arts of Peace, to talk

too much of War, it is but Gratitude to pay the last Office to its

_Manes_, since even Peace it self is, in some Measure, obliged to it

for its Being.

'You have, in your former Papers, always recommended the Accomplished

to the Favour of the Fair; and, I hope, you will allow me to represent

some Part of a Military Life not altogether unnecessary to the forming

a Gentleman. I need not tell you that in _France_, whose Fashions we

have been formerly so fond of, almost every one derives his Pretences

to Merit from the Sword; and that a Man has scarce the Face to make

his Court to a Lady, without some Credentials from the Service to

recommend him. As the Profession is very ancient, we have Reason to

think some of the greatest Men, among the old _Romans_, derived many

of their Virtues from it, their Commanders being frequently, in other

Respects, some of the most shining Characters of the Age.

'The Army not only gives a Man Opportunities of exercising those two

great Virtues _Patience_ and _Courage_, but often produces them in

Minds where they had scarce any Footing before. I must add, that it is

one of the best Schools in the World to receive a general Notion of

Mankind in, and a certain Freedom of Behaviour, which is not so easily

acquired in any other Place. At the same Time I must own, that some

Military Airs are pretty extraordinary, and that a Man who goes into

the Army a Coxcomb will come out of it a Sort of Publick Nuisance: But

a Man of Sense, or one who before had not been sufficiently used to a

mixed Conversation, generally takes the true Turn. The Court has in

all Ages been allowed to be the Standard of Good-breeding; and I

believe there is not a juster Observation in Monsieur _Rochefoucault_,

than that

'A Man who has been bred up wholly to Business, can never get the

Air of a Courtier at Court, but will immediately catch it in the

Camp.'

The Reason of this most certainly is, that the very Essence of

Good-Breeding and Politeness consists in several Niceties, which are

so minute that they escape his Observation, and he falls short of the

Original he would copy after; but when he sees the same Things charged

and aggravated to a Fault, he no sooner endeavours to come up to the

Pattern which is set before him, than, though he stops somewhat short

of that, he naturally rests where in reality he ought. I was two or

three Days ago, mightily pleased with the Observation of an humourous

Gentleman upon one of his Friends, who was in other Respects every way

an accomplished Person, That _he wanted nothing but a Dash of the

Coxcomb in him;_ by which he understood a little of that Alertness and

Unconcern in the common Actions of Life, which is usually so visible

among Gentlemen of the Army, and which a Campaign or two would

infallibly have given him.

'You will easily guess, Sir, by this my Panegyrick upon a Military

Education, that I am my self a Soldier, and indeed I am so; I

remember, within three Years after I had been in the Army, I was

ordered into the Country a Recruiting. I had very particular Success

in this Part of the Service, and was over and above assured, at my

going away, that I might have taken a young Lady, who was the most

considerable Fortune in the County, along with me. I preferred the

Pursuit of Fame at that time to all other Considerations, and tho' I

was not absolutely bent on a Wooden Leg, resolved at least to get a

Scar or two for the good of _Europe_. I have at present as much as I

desire of this Sort of Honour, and if you could recommend me

effectually, should be well enough contented to pass the Remainder of

my Days in the Arms of some dear kind Creature, and upon a pretty

Estate in the Country: This, as I take it, would be following the

Example of _Lucius Cincinnatus_, the old _Roman_ Dictator, who at the

End of a War left the Camp to follow the Plow. I am, Sir, with all

imaginable Respect,

_Your most Obedient,

Humble Servant_,

Will. Warly.

_Mr_. SPECTATOR,

'I am an Half-pay Officer, and am at present with a Friend in the

Country. Here is a rich Widow in the Neighbourhood, who has made Fools

of all the Fox-hunters within fifty Miles of her. She declares she

intends to marry, but has not yet been asked by the Man she could

like. She usually admits her humble Admirers to an Audience or two,

but, after she has once given them Denial will never see them more. I

am assured by a Female Relation, that I shall have fair Play at her;

but as my whole Success Depends on my first Approaches, I desire your

Advice, whether I had best _Storm_ or proceed by way of _Sap_.

_I am, SIR, Yours, &c._

'P. S. I had forgot to tell you, that I have already carried one of

her Outworks, that is, secured her Maid.

_Mr_. SPECTATOR,

'I have assisted in several Sieges in the _Low-Countries_, and being

still willing to employ my Talents, as a Soldier and Engineer, lay

down this Morning at Seven a Clock before the Door of an obstinate

Female, who had for some time refused me Admittance. I made a Lodgment

in an outer Parlour about Twelve: The Enemy retired to her

Bed-Chamber, yet I still pursued, and about two a-Clock this Afternoon

she thought fit to Capitulate. Her Demands are indeed somewhat high,

in Relation to the Settlement of her Fortune. But being in Possession

of the House, I intend to insist upon _Carte-Blanche_, and am in

hopes, by keeping off all other Pretenders for the Space of twenty

four Hours, to starve her into a Compliance. I beg your speedy Advice,

and am,

_SIR, Yours_, Peter Push.

From my Camp in _Red-Lion_ Square, Saturday_ 4, in the Afternoon.

* * * * *

No. 567. Wednesday, July 14, 1714. Addison.

'--Inceptus clamor frustratur hiantes.'

Virg.

I have received private Advice from some of my Correspondents, that if I

would give my Paper a general Run, I should take care to season it with

Scandal. I have indeed observed of late, that few Writings sell which

are not filled with great Names and illustrious Titles. The Reader

generally casts his Eye upon a new Book, and if he finds several Letters

separated from one another by a Dash, he buys it up, and peruses it with

great Satisfaction. An _M_ and an _h_, a _T_ and an _r_ [1], with a

short Line between them, has sold many an Insipid Pamphlet. Nay I have

known a whole Edition go off by vertue of two or three well written

&c--'s.

A sprinkling of the Words _Faction, Frenchman, Papist, Plunderer,_ and

the like significant Terms, in an Italick Character, have also a very

good Effect upon the Eye of the [Purchaser; [2]] not to mention

_Scribler, Lier, Rogue, Rascal, Knave,_ and _Villain_, without which it

is impossible to carry on a Modern Controversie.

Our Party-writers are so sensible of the secret Vertue of an Innuendo to

recommend their Productions, that of late they never mention the Q--n or

P--l at length, though they speak of them with Honour, and with that

Deference which is due to them from every private Person. It gives a

secret Satisfaction to a Peruser of these mysterious Works, that he is

able to decipher them without help, and, by the Strength of his own

natural Parts, to fill up a Blank-Space, or make out a Word that has

only the first or last Letter to it.

Some of our Authors indeed, when they would be more Satyrical than

ordinary, omit only the Vowels of a great Man's Name, and fall most

unmercifully upon all the Consonants. This way of Writing was first of

all introduced by _T-m Br-wn_, of facetious Memory, who, after having

gutted a proper Name of all its intermediate Vowels, used to plant it in

his Works, and make as free with it as he pleased, without any Danger of

the Statute.

That I may imitate these celebrated Authors, and publish a Paper which

shall be more taking than ordinary, I have here drawn up a very curious

Libel, in which a Reader of Penetration will find a great deal of

concealed Satyr, and if he be acquainted with the present Posture of

Affairs, will easily discover the Meaning of it.

'If there are _four_ Persons in the Nation who endeavour to bring all

things into Confusion, and ruin their native Country, I think every

honest _Engl-shm-n_ ought to be upon his Guard. That there are such,

every one will agree with me, who hears me name *** with his first

Friend and Favourite ***, not to mention *** nor ***. These People may

cry Ch-rch, Ch-rch, as long as they please, but, to make use of a homely

Proverb, The Proof of the P-dd-ng is in the eating. This I am sure of,

that if a _certain Prince_ should concur with a _certain Prelate_, (and

we have Monsieur Z--n's Word for it) our Posterity would be in a sweet

P-ckle. Must the _British_ Nation suffer forsooth, because my Lady

_Q-p-t-s_ has been disobliged? Or is it reasonable that our _English_

Fleet, which used to be the Terror of the Ocean, should lie Windbound

for the sake of a--. I love to speak out and declare my Mind clearly,

when I am talking for the Good of my Country. I will not make my Court

to an ill Man, tho' he were a B--y or a T--t. Nay, I would not stick to

call so wretched a Politician, a Traitor, an Enemy to his Country, and a

Bl-nd-rb-ss, &c., &c.

The remaining Part of this Political Treatise, which is written after

the manner of the most celebrated Authors in _Great Britain_, I may

communicate to the Publick at a more convenient Season. In the mean

while I shall leave this with my curious Reader, as some ingenious

Writers do their Enigmas, and if any sagacious Person can fairly

unriddle it, I will print his Explanation, and, if he pleases, acquaint

the World with his Name.

I hope this short Essay will convince my Readers, it is not for want of

Abilities that I avoid State-tracts, and that if I would apply my Mind

to it, I might in a little time be as great a Master of the Political

Scratch as any the most eminent Writer of the Age. I shall only add,

that in order to outshine all this Modern Race of _Syncopists_, and

thoroughly content my _English_ Readers, I intend shortly to publish a

SPECTATOR, that shall not have a single Vowel in it.

[Footnote 1: For 'Marlborough' and 'Treasurer.']

[Footnote 2: [Reader.]]

* * * * *

No. 568. Friday, July 16, 1714. Addison.

'--Dum recitas, incipit esse Tuus--'

Mart.

I was Yesterday in a Coffee-House not far from the _Royal Exchange_,

where I observed three Persons in close Conference over a Pipe of

Tobacco; upon which, having filled one for my own use, I lighted it at

the little Wax Candle that stood before them; and after having thrown in

two or three Whiffs amongst them, sat down and made one of the Company.

I need not tell my Reader, that lighting a Man's Pipe at the same

Candle, is looked upon among Brother-smokers as an Overture to

Conversation and Friendship. As we here lay our Heads together in a very

amicable Manner, being intrenched under a Cloud of our own raising, I

took up the last SPECTATOR, and casting my Eye over it, _The_ SPECTATOR,

says I, _is very witty to-Day;_ upon which a lusty lethargick old

Gentleman, who sat at the Upper-end of the Table, having gradually blown

out of his Mouth a great deal of Smoke, which he had been collecting for

some Time before, _Ay,_ says he, _more witty than wise I am afraid._ His

Neighbour who sat at his right Hand immediately coloured, and being an

angry Politician, laid down his Pipe with so much Wrath that he broke it

in the Middle, and by that Means furnished me with a Tobacco-stopper. I

took it up very sedately, and looking him full in the Face, made use of

it from Time to Time all the while he was speaking: _This fellow,_ says

he, _can't for his Life keep out of Politicks. Do you see how he abuses_

four _great Men here?_ I fix'd my Eye very attentively on the Paper, and

asked him if he meant those who were represented by Asterisks.

_Asterisks,_ says he, _do you call them? they are all of them Stars. He

might as well have put Garters to 'em. Then pray do but mind the two or

three next Lines? Ch-rch and P-dd-ing in the same Sentence! Our Clergy

are very much beholden to him._ Upon this the third Gentleman, who was

of a mild Disposition, and, as I found, a Whig in his Heart, desired him

not to be too severe upon the SPECTATOR neither; For, says he, _you find

he is very cautious of giving Offence, and has therefore put two Dashes

into his Pudding. A Fig for his Dash,_ says the angry Politician. _In

his next Sentence he gives a plain Innuendo, that our Posterity will be

in a sweet P-ckle. What does the Fool mean by his Pickle? Why does not

he write it at length, if he means honestly? I have read over the whole

Sentence,_ says I; _but I look upon the Parenthesis in the Belly of it

to be the most dangerous Part, and as full of Insinuations as it can

hold. But who,_ says I, _is my Lady Q-p-t-s? Ay, Answer that if you can,

Sir,_ says the furious Statesman to the poor Whig that sate over-against

him. But without giving him Time to reply, _I do assure you,_ says he,

_were I my Lady_ Q-p-t-s, _I would sue him for_ Scandalum Magnatum.

_What is the World come to? Must every Body be allowed to--?_ He had by

this time filled a new Pipe and applying it to his Lips, when we

expected the last Word of his Sentence, put us off with a Whiff of

Tobacco; which he redoubled with so much Rage and Trepidation, that he

almost stifled the whole Company. After a short Pause, I owned that I

thought the SPECTATOR had gone too far in writing so many Letters of my

Lady _Q-p-t-s'_s Name; _but however_, says I, _he has made a little

Amends for it in his next Sentence, where he leaves a blank Space

without so much as a Consonant to direct us? I mean_, says I, _after

those Words_, The Fleet, that used to be the Terrour of the Ocean,

should be Wind-bound for the sake of a--; _after which ensues a Chasm,

that in my Opinion looks modest enough. Sir_, says my Antagonist, _you

may easily know his Meaning by his Gaping; I suppose he designs his

Chasm, as you call it, for an Hole to creep out at, but I believe it

will hardly serve his Turn. Who can endure to see the great Officers of

State, the_ B--y's _and_ T--t's _treated after so scurrilous a Manner? I

can't for my Life_, says I, _imagine who they are the_ SPECTATOR _means?

No!_ says he,--_Your humble Servant, Sir!_ Upon which he flung himself

back in his Chair after a contemptuous Manner, and smiled upon the old

lethargick Gentleman on his left Hand, who I found was his great

Admirer. The Whig however had begun to conceive a Good-will towards me,

and seeing my Pipe out, very generously offered me the Use of his Box;

but I declined it with great Civility, being obliged to meet a Friend

about that Time in another Quarter of the City.

At my leaving the Coffee-house, I could not forbear reflecting with my

self upon that gross Tribe of Fools who may be termed the _Overwise_,

and upon the Difficulty of writing any thing in this censorious Age,

which a weak Head may not construe into private Satyr and personal

Reflection.

A Man who has a good Nose at an Innuendo, smells Treason and Sedition in

the most innocent Words that can be put together, and never sees a Vice

or Folly stigmatized, but finds out one or other of his Acquaintance

pointed at by the Writer. I remember an empty pragmatical Fellow in the

Country, who upon reading over _the whole Duty of Man_, had written the

Names of several Persons in the Village at the Side of every Sin which

is mentioned by that excellent Author; so that he had converted one of

the best Books in the World into a Libel against the 'Squire,

Church-wardens, Overseers of the Poor, and all other the most

considerable Persons in the Parish. This Book with these extraordinary

marginal Notes fell accidentally into the Hands of one who had never

seen it before; upon which there arose a current Report that Somebody

had written a Book against the 'Squire and the whole Parish. The

Minister of the Place having at that Time a Controversy with some of his

Congregation upon the Account of his Tythes, was under some Suspicion of

being the Author, 'till the good Man set his People right by shewing

them that the satyrical Passages might be applied to several others of

two or three neighbouring Villages, and that the Book was writ against

all the Sinners in England.

* * * * *

No. 569. Monday, July 19, 1714. Addison.

'Reges dicuntur multis urgere culullis

Et torquere mero, quem perspexisse laborent,

An sit amicitia dignus--'

Hor.

No Vices are so incurable as those which Men are apt to glory in. One

would wonder how Drunkenness should have the good Luck to be of this

Number. _Anacharsis_, being invited to a Match of Drinking at _Corinth_,

demanded the Prize very humorously, because he was drunk before any of

the rest of the Company: for, says he, when we run a Race, he who

arrives at the Goal first is entitled to the Reward. On the contrary, in

this thirsty Generation, the Honour falls upon him who carries off the

greatest Quantity of Liquor, and knocks down the rest of the Company. I

was the other Day with honest _Will. Funnell_ the _West Saxon_, who was

reckoning up how much Liquor had past through him in the last twenty

Years of his Life, which, according to his Computation, amounted to

twenty three Hogsheads of October, four Ton of Port, half a Kilderkin of

small Beer, nineteen Barrels of Cider, and three Glasses of Champaign;

besides which, he had assisted at four hundred Bowls of Punch, not to

mention Sips, Drams, and Whets without Number. I question not but every

Reader's Memory will suggest to him several ambitious young Men, who are

as vain in this Particular as _Will. Funnell_, and can boast of as

glorious Exploits.

Our modern Philosophers observe, that there is a general Decay of

Moisture in the Globe of the Earth. This they chiefly ascribe to the

Growth of Vegetables, which incorporate into their own Substance many

fluid Bodies that never return again to their former Nature: But, with

Submission, they ought to throw into their Account those innumerable

rational Beings which fetch their Nourishment chiefly out of Liquids;

especially when we consider that Men, compared with their

Fellow-Creatures, drink much more than comes to their Share.

But however highly this Tribe of People may think of themselves, a

drunken Man is a greater Monster than any that is to be found among all

the Creatures which God has made; as indeed there is no Character which

appears more despicable and deformed, in the Eyes of all reasonable

Persons, than that of a Drunkard. _Bonosus_, one of our own Countrymen,

who was addicted to this Vice, having set up for a Share in the Roman

Empire, and being defeated in a great Battle, hang'd himself. When he

was seen by the Army in this melancholy Situation, notwithstanding he

had behaved himself very bravely, the common Jest was, That the Thing

they saw hanging upon the Tree before them, was not a Man but a Bottle.

This Vice has very fatal Efects on the Mind, the Body, and Fortune of

the Person who is devoted to it.

In regard to the Mind, it first of all discovers every Flaw in it. The

sober Man, by the Strength of Reason, may keep under and subdue every

Vice or Folly to which he is most inclined; but Wine makes every latent

Seed sprout up in the Soul, and shew it self. It gives Fury to the

Passions, and Force to those Objects which are apt to produce them.

When a young Fellow complained to an old Philosopher that his Wife was

not handsome, _Put less Water in your Wine, says the Philosopher, and

you'll quickly make her so_. Wine heightens Indifference into Love, Love

into Jealousy, and Jealousy into Madness. It often turns the

Good-natured Man into an Ideot, and the Cholerick into an Assassin. It

gives Bitterness to Resentment, it makes Vanity insupportable, and

displays every little Spot of the Soul in its utmost Deformity. Nor does

this Vice only betray the hidden Faults of a Man, and shew them in the

most odious Colours, but often occasions Faults to which he is not

naturally subject. There is more of Turn than of Truth in a Saying of

Seneca, That Drunkenness does not produce but discover Faults. Common

Experience teaches us the contrary. Wine throws a Man out of himself,

and infuses Qualities into the Mind, which she is a Stranger to in her

sober Moments. The Person you converse with, after the third Bottle, is

not the same Man who at first sat down at Table with you. Upon this

Maxim is founded one of the prettiest Sayings I ever met with, which is

ascribed to Publius Syrus, _Qui ebrium ludificat ladit absentem; He who

jests upon a Man that is Drunk, injures the Absent_.

Thus does Drunkenness act in direct Contradiction to Reason, whose

Business it is to clear the Mind of every Vice which is crept into it,

and to guard it against all the Approaches of any that endeavours to

make its Entrance. But besides these ill Effects which this Vice

produces in the Person who is actually under its Dominion, it has also a

bad Influence on the Mind even in its sober Moments, as it insensibly

weakens the Understanding, impairs the Memory, and makes those Faults

habitual which are produced by frequent Excesses.

I should now proceed to shew the ill Effects which this Vice has on the

Bodies and Fortunes of Men; but these I shall reserve for the Subject of

some future Paper.

* * * * *

No. 570. Wednesday, July 21, 1714.

'--Nugaque canora--'

Hor.

There is scarce a Man living who is not actuated by Ambition. When this

Principle meets with an honest Mind and great Abilities, it does

infinite Service to the World; on the contrary, when a Man only thinks

of distinguishing himself, without being thus qualified for it, he

becomes a very pernicious or a very ridiculous Creature. I shall here

confine my self to that petty kind of Ambition, by which some Men grow

eminent for odd Accomplishments and trivial Performances. How many are

there whose whole Reputation depends upon a Punn or a Quibble? You may

often see an Artist in the Streets gain a Circle of Admirers, by

carrying a long Pole upon his Chin or Forehead in a perpendicular

Posture. Ambition has taught some to write with their Feet, and others

to walk upon their Hands. Some tumble into Fame, others grow immortal by

throwing themselves through a Hoop.

'Cætera de genere hoc adeo sunt multa, loquacem

Delassare valent Fabium--'

I am led into this Train of Thought by an Adventure I lately met with.

I was the other Day at a Tavern, where the Master of the House [1]

accommodating us himself with every thing we wanted, I accidentally fell

into a Discourse with him; and talking of a certain great Man, who shall

be nameless, he told me, That he had sometimes the Honour _to treat him

with a Whistle_; (adding by the way of Parenthesis) _For you must know,

Gentlemen, that I whistle the best of any Man in_ Europe. This naturally

put me upon desiring him to give us a Sample of his Art; upon which he

called for a Case-Knife, and applying the Edge of it to his Mouth,

converted it into a musical Instrument, and entertained me with an

_Italian_ Solo. Upon laying down the Knife, he took up a Pair of clean

Tobacco Pipes; and after having slid the small End of them over the

Table in a most melodious Trill, he fetched a Tune out of them,

whistling to them at the same time in Consort. In short, the

Tobacco-Pipes became _Musical Pipes_ in the Hands of our Virtuoso; who

confessed to me ingenuously, he had broke such Quantities of them, that

he had almost broke himself, before he had brought this Piece of Musick

to any tolerable Perfection. I then told him I would bring a Company of

Friends to dine with him the next Week, as an Encouragement to his

Ingenuity; upon which he thanked me, saying, That he would provide

himself with a new Frying-Pan against that Day. I replied, That it was

no matter; Roast and Boiled would serve our Turn. He smiled at my

Simplicity, and told me, That it was his Design to give us a Tune upon

it. As I was surprised at such a Promise, he sent for an old Frying-Pan,

and grating it upon the Board, whistled to it in such a melodious

Manner, that you could scarce distinguish it from a Base-Viol. He then

took his Seat with us at the Table, and hearing my Friend that was with

me humm over a Tune to himself, he told him if he would sing out he

would accompany his Voice with a Tobacco-Pipe. As my Friend has an

agreeable Base, he chose rather to sing to the Frying-Pan; and indeed

between them they made up a most extraordinary Consort. Finding our

Landlord so great a Proficient in Kitchen-Musick, I asked him if he was

Master of the Tongs and Key. He told Me that he had laid it down some

Years since, as a little unfashionable: but that if I pleased he would

give me a Lesson upon the Gridiron. He then informed me that he had

added two Bars to the Gridiron, in order to give it a greater Compass of

Sound; and I perceived was as well pleased with the Invention, as

_Sappho_ could have been upon adding two Strings to the Lute. To be

short, I found that his whole Kitchen was furnished with musical

Instruments; and could not but look upon this Artist as a kind of

Burlesque Musician.

He afterwards of his own Accord fell into the Imitation of several

Singing-Birds. My Friend and I toasted our Mistresses to the

Nightingale, when all of a sudden we were surpriz'd with the musick of

the Thrush. He next proceeded to the Sky-Lark, mounting up by a proper

Scale of Notes, and afterwards falling to the Ground with a very easy

and regular Descent. He then contracted his Whistle to the Voice of

several Birds of the smallest Size. As he is a Man of a larger Bulk and

higher Stature than ordinary, you would fancy him a Giant when you

look'd upon him, and a Tom Tit when you shut your Eyes. I must not omit

acquainting my Reader, that this accomplished Person was formerly the

Master of a Toy-shop near _Temple-Bar_; and that the famous _Charles

Mathers_ was bred up under him. I am told that the Misfortunes which he

has met with in the World, are chiefly owing to his great Application to

his Musick; and therefore cannot but recommend him to my Readers as one

who deserves their Favour, and may afford them great Diversion over a

Bottle of Wine, which he sells at the Queen's Arms, near the End of the

little Piazza in _Covent-Garden_.

[Footnote 1: Named Daintry. He was of the trained bands, and commonly

known as Captain Daintry.]

* * * * *

No. 571. Friday, July 23, 1714. Addison.

'--Coelum quid querimus ultra?'

Luc.

As the Work I have engaged in, will not only consist of Papers of Humour

and Learning, but of several Essays Moral and Divine, I shall publish

the following one, which is founded on a former SPECTATOR [1], and sent

me by a particular Friend, not questioning but it will please such of my

Readers, as think it no Disparagement to their Understandings to give

way sometimes to a serious Thought.

SIR,

In your Paper of _Friday_ the 9th Instant, you had Occasion to

consider the Ubiquity of the Godhead, and at the same time, to shew,

that as he is present to every thing, he cannot but be attentive to

every thing, and privy to all the Modes and Parts of its Existence;

or, in other Words, that his Omniscience and Omnipresence are

coexistent, and run together through the whole Infinitude of Space.

This Consideration might furnish us with many Incentives to Devotion

and Motives to Morality, but as this Subject has been handled by

several excellent Writers, I shall consider it in a Light wherein I

have not seen it placed by others.

_First_, How disconsolate is the Condition of an intellectual Being

who is thus present with his Maker, but at the same time receives no

extraordinary Benefit or Advantage from this his Presence!

_Secondly_, How deplorable is the Condition of an intellectual Being,

who feels no other Effects from this his Presence but such as proceed

from Divine Wrath and Indignation!

_Thirdly_, How happy is the Condition of that intellectual Being, who

is sensible of his Maker's Presence from the secret Effects of his

Mercy and Loving-kindness!

_First_, How disconsolate is the Condition of an intellectual Being,

who is thus present with his Maker, but at the same time receives no

extraordinary Benefit or Advantage from this his Presence! Every

Particle of Matter is actuated by this Almighty Being which passes

through it. The Heavens and the Earth, the Stars and Planets, move and

gravitate by Vertue of this great Principle within them. All the dead

Parts of Nature are invigorated by the Presence of their Creator, and

made capable of exerting their respective Qualities. The several

Instincts, in the brute Creation, do likewise operate and work towards

the several Ends which are agreeable to them, by this Divine Energy.

Man only, who does not co-operate with this holy Spirit, and is

unattentive to his Presence, receives none of those Advantages from

it, which are perfective of his Nature, and necessary to his

Well-being. The Divinity is with him, and in him, and everywhere about

him, but of no Advantage to him. It is the same thing to a Man without

Religion, as if there were no God in the World. It is indeed

impossible for an infinite Being to remove himself from any of his

Creatures, but tho' he cannot withdraw his Essence from us, which

would argue an Imperfection in him, he can withdraw from us all the

Joys and Consolations of it. His Presence may perhaps be necessary to

support us in our Existence; but he may leave this our Existence to it

self, with regard to its Happiness or Misery. For, in this Sense, he

may cast us away from his Presence, and take his holy Spirit from us.

This single Consideration one would think sufficient to make us open

our Hearts to all those Infusions of Joy and Gladness which are so

near at Hand, and ready to be poured in upon us; especially when we

consider,

_Secondly_, The deplorable Condition of an intellectual Being who

feels no other Effects from his Maker's Presence, but such as proceed

from Divine Wrath and Indignation!

We may assure our selves, that the great Author of Nature will not

always be as one who is indifferent to any of his Creatures. Those who

will not feel him in his Love, will be sure at length to feel him in

his Displeasure. And how dreadful is the Condition of that Creature,

who is only sensible of the Being of his Creator by what he suffers

from him! He is as essentially present in Hell as in Heaven, but the

Inhabitants of those accursed Places behold him only in his Wrath, and

shrink within the Flames to conceal themselves from him. It is not in

the Power of Imagination to conceive the fearful Effects of

Omnipotence incensed.

But I shall only consider the Wretchedness of an intellectual Being,

who, in this Life, lies under the Displeasure of him, that at all

Times and in all Places is intimately united with him. He is able to

disquiet the Soul, and vex it in all its Faculties. He can hinder any

of the greatest Comforts of Life from refreshing us, and give an Edge

to every one of its slightest Calamities. Who then can bear the

Thought of being an Out-cast from his Presence, that is, from the

Comforts of it, or of feeling it only in its Terrors? How pathetick is

that Expostulation of _Job_, when, for the Tryal of his Patience, he

was made to look upon himself in this deplorable Condition!

_Why hast thou set me as a Mark against thee, so that I am become a

Burthen to my self_?

But, _Thirdly_, how happy is the Condition of that intellectual Being,

who is sensible of his Maker's Presence from the secret Effects of his

Mercy and Loving-kindness.

The Blessed in Heaven behold him Face to Face; that is, are as

sensible of his Presence as we are of the Presence of any Person whom

we look upon with our Eyes. There is doubtless a Faculty in Spirits,

by which they apprehend one another, as our Senses do material

Objects; and there is no Question but our Souls, when they are

disembodied, or placed in glorified Bodies, will by this Faculty, in

whatever Part of Space they reside, be always sensible of the Divine

Presence. We, who have this Veil of Flesh standing between us and the

World of Spirits, must be Content to know that the Spirit of God is

present with us, by the Effects which he produces in us. Our outward

Senses are too gross to apprehend him; we may however taste and see

how gracious he is, by his Influence upon our Minds, by those Virtuous

Thoughts which he awakens in us, by those secret Comforts and

Refreshments which he conveys into our Souls, and by those ravishing

Joys and inward Satisfactions, which are perpetually springing up, and

diffusing themselves among all the Thoughts of good Men. He is lodged

in our very Essence, and is as a Soul within the Soul, to irradiate

its Understanding, rectifie its Will, purifie its Passions, and

enliven all the Powers of Man. How happy therefore is an intellectual

Being, who, by Prayer and Meditation, by Virtue and good Works, opens

this Communication between God and his own Soul! Tho' the whole

Creation frowns upon him, and all Nature looks black about him, he has

his Light and Support within him, that are able to cheer his Mind, and

bear him up in the Midst of all those Horrors which encompass him. He

knows that his Helper is at Hand, and is always nearer to him than any

thing else can be, which is capable of annoying or terrifying him. In

the Midst of Calumny or Contempt, he attends to that Being who

whispers better things within his Soul, and whom he looks upon as his

Defender, his Glory, and the Lifter up of his Head. In his deepest

Solitude and Retirement, he knows that he is in Company with the

greatest of Beings; and perceives within himself such real Sensations

of his Presence, as are more delightful than any thing that can be met

with in the Conversation of his Creatures. Even in the Hour of Death,

he considers the Pains of his Dissolution to be nothing else but the

breaking down of that Partition, which stands betwixt his Soul, and

the Sight of that Being, who is always present with him, and is about

to manifest it self to him in Fullness of Joy.

If we would be thus Happy, and thus Sensible of our Maker's Presence,

from the secret Effects of his Mercy and Goodness, we must keep such a

Watch over all our Thoughts, that, in the Language of the Scripture, his

Soul may have Pleasure in us. We must take care not to grieve his Holy

Spirit, and endeavour to make the Meditations of our Hearts always

acceptable in his Sight, that he may delight thus to reside and dwell in

us. The Light of Nature could direct _Seneca_ to this Doctrine, in a

very remarkable Passage among his Epistles:

_Sacer inest in nobis spiritus bonorum malorumque custos, et

Observator, et quemadmodum nos illum tractamus, ita et ille nos_

[2].

There is a Holy Spirit residing in us, who watches and observes both

Good and Evil Men, and will treat us after the same Manner that we

treat him. But I shall conclude this Discourse with those more

emphatical Words in Divine Revelation,

_If a Man love me, he will keep my Word, and my Father will love

him, and we will come unto him, and make our Abode with him_ [3].

[Footnote 1: No. 565, and see Nos. 580, 590, and 628.]

[Footnote 2: Ep. 41. To Lucilius. 'Deum in viro bono sedere.']

[Footnote 3: John xiv. 23.]

* * * * *

No. 572. Monday, July 26, 1714. Z. Pearce [3].

'--Quod medicorum est

Promittant medici--'

Hor.

I am the more pleased with these my Papers, since I find they have

encouraged several Men of Learning and Wit to become my Correspondents:

I Yesterday received the following Essay against Quacks, which I shall

here communicate to my Readers for the Good of the Publick, begging the

Writer's Pardon for those Additions and Retrenchments which I have made

in it.

The Desire of Life is so natural and strong a Passion, that I have long

since ceased to wonder at the great Encouragement which the Practice of

Physick finds among us. Well-constituted Governments have always made

the Profession of a Physician both honourable and advantageous. _Homer's

Machaon_ and _Virgil's Japis_ were Men of Renown, Heroes in War, and

made at least as much Havock among their Enemies as among their Friends.

Those who have little or no Faith in the Abilities of a Quack will apply

themselves to him, either because he is willing to sell Health at a

reasonable Profit, or because the Patient, like a drowning Man, catches

at every Twig, and hopes for Relief from the most Ignorant, when the

most able Physicians give him none. Though Impudence and many Words are

as necessary to these Itinerary _Galens_ as a laced Hat or a Merry

_Andrew_, yet they would turn very little to the Advantage of the Owner,

if there were not some inward Disposition in the sick Man to favour the

Pretensions of the Mountebank. Love of Life in the one, and of Mony in

the other, creates a good Correspondence between them.

There is scarce a City in _Great-Britain_ but has one of this Tribe, who

takes it into his Protection, and on the Market-Day harangues the good

People of the Place with Aphorisms and Receipts. You may depend upon it,

he comes not there for his own private Interest, but out of a particular

Affection to the Town. I remember one of those Public-spirited Artists

at _Hammersmith_, who told his Audience 'that he had been born and bred

there, and that having a special Regard for the Place of his Nativity,

he was determined to make a Present of five Shillings to as many as

would accept of it.' The whole Crowd stood agape, and ready to take the

Doctor at his Word; when putting his Hand into a long Bag, as every one

was expecting his Crown-Piece, he drew out an handful of little Packets,

each of which he informed the Spectators was constantly sold at five

Shillings and six pence, but that he would bate the odd five Shillings

to every Inhabitant of that Place: The whole Assembly immediately closed

with this generous Offer, and took off all his Physick, after the Doctor

had made them vouch for one another, that there were no Foreigners among

them, but that they were all _Hammersmith_-Men.

There is another Branch of Pretenders to this Art, who, without either

Horse or Pickle-Herring, lie snug in a Garret, and send down Notice to

the World of their extraordinary Parts and Abilities by printed Bills

and Advertisements. These seem to have derived their Custom from an

_Eastern_ Nation which _Herodotus_ speaks of, among whom it was a Law,

that whenever any Cure was performed, both the Method of the Cure, and

an Account of the Distemper, should be fixed in some Publick Place; but

as Customs will corrupt, these our Moderns provide themselves of Persons

to attest the Cure, before they publish or make an Experiment of the

Prescription. I have heard of a Porter, who serves as a Knight of the

Post under one of these Operators, and tho' he was never sick in his

Life, has been cured of all the Diseases in the Dispensary. These are

the Men whose Sagacity has invented Elixirs of all sorts, Pills and

Lozenges, and take it as an Affront if you come to them before you are

given over by every Body else. Their Medicines _are infallible, and

never fail of Success_, that is of enriching the Doctor, and setting the

Patient effectually at Rest.

I lately dropt into a Coffee-house at _Westminster_, where I found the

Room hung round with Ornaments of this Nature. There were Elixirs,

Tinctures, the _Anodine Fotus_, _English_ Pills, Electuaries, and, in

short, more Remedies than I believe there are Diseases. At the Sight of

so many Inventions, I could not but imagine my self in a kind of Arsenal

or Magazine, where store of Arms were reposited against any sudden

Invasion. Should you be attack'd by the Enemy Side-ways, here was an

infallible Piece of defensive Armour to cure the Pleurisie: Should a

Distemper beat up your Head Quarters, here you might purchase an

impenetrable Helmet, or, in the Language of the Artist, a Cephalic

Tincture: If your main Body be assaulted, here are various Kinds of

Armour in Case of various Onsets. I began to congratulate the present

Age upon the Happiness Men might reasonably hope for in Life, when Death

was thus in a manner Defeated; and when Pain it self would be of so

short a Duration, that it would but just serve to enhance the Value of

Pleasure: While I was in these Thoughts, I unluckily called to mind a

Story of an Ingenious Gentleman of the last Age, who lying violently

afflicted with the Gout, a Person came and offered his Service to Cure

him by a Method, which he assured him was Infallible; the Servant who

received the Message carried it up to his Master, who enquiring whether

the Person came on Foot or in a Chariot; and being informed that he was

on Foot: _Go, says he, send the Knave about his Business: Was his Method

as infallible as he pretends, he would long before now have been in his

Coach and Six._ In like manner I concluded, that had all these

Advertisers arrived to that Skill they pretend to, they would have had

no Need for so many Years successively to publish to the World the Place

of their Abode, and the Virtues of their Medicines. One of these

Gentlemen indeed pretends to an effectual Cure for Leanness: What

Effects it may have had upon those who have try'd it I cannot tell; but

I am credibly informed, that the Call for it has been so great, that it

has effectually cured the Doctor himself of that Distemper. Could each

of them produce so good an Instance of the Success of his Medicines,

they might soon persuade the World into an Opinion of them.

I observe that most of the Bills agree in one Expression, _viz._ that

(_with God's Blessing_) they perform such and such Cures: This

Expression is certainly very proper and emphatical, for that is all they

have for it. And if ever a Cure is performed on a Patient where they are

concerned, they can claim no greater Share in it than _Virgil's Japis_

in the curing of _Æneas;_ he tried his Skill, was very assiduous about

the Wound, and indeed was the only visible Means that relieved the Hero;

but the Poet assures us it was the particular Assistance of a Deity that

speeded the Operation. An _English_ Reader may see the whole Story in

Mr. _Dryden's_ Translation.

_Prop'd on his Lance the pensive Heroe stood,

And heard, and saw unmov'd, the Mourning Crowd.

The fam'd Physician tucks his Robes around,

With ready Hands, and hastens to the Wound.

With gentle Touches he performs his Part,

This Way and that, solliciting the Dart,

And exercises all his Heavenly Art.

All softning Simples, known of Sov'reign Use,

He presses out, and pours their noble Juice;

These first infus'd, to lenifie the Pain,

He tugs with Pincers, but he tugs in vain.

Then to the Patron of his Art he pray'd;

The Patron of his Art refus'd his Aid.

But now the Goddess Mother, mov'd with Grief,

And pierc'd with Pity, hastens her Relief.

A Branch of Healing_ Dittany _she brought,

Which in the_ Cretan _Fields with Care she sought;

Rough is the Stem, which woolly Leaves surround;

The Leafs with Flow'rs, the Flow'rs with Purple crown'd:

Well known to-wounded Goats; a sure Relief

To draw the pointed Steel, and ease the Grief.

This_ Venus _brings, in Clouds involv'd; and brews

Th' extracted Liquor with_ Ambrosian _Dews,

And od'rous_ Panacee: _Unseen she stands,

Temp'ring the Mixture with her heav'nly Hands:

And pours it in a Bowl, already crown'd

With Juice of medc'nal Herbs, prepared to bathe the Wound.

The Leech, unknowing of superior Art,

Which aids the Cure, with this foments the Part;

And in a Moment ceas'd the raging Smart.

Stanched is the Blood, and in the bottom stands:

The Steel, but scarcely touched with tender Hands,

Moves up, and follows of its own Accord;

And Health and Vigour are at once restor'd_.

Japis _first perceiv'd the closing Wound;

And first the Footsteps of a God he found.

Arms, Arms! he cries, the Sword and Shield prepare,

And send the willing Chief, renew'd to War.

This is no mortal Work, no cure of mine,

Nor Art's effect, but done by Hands Divine_.

[Footnote 1: Dr. Zachary Pearce, Bishop of Rochester, with alterations

by Addison.]

* * * * *

No. 573. Wednesday, July 28, 1714.

'--Castigata remordent--'

Juv.

My Paper on the Club of Widows has brought me in several Letters; and,

among the rest, a long one from Mrs. President, as follows.

_Smart SIR_,