In the first Revelation which he makes of his own Being, he entitles

himself, _I am that I am_; and when _Moses_ desires to know what Name he

shall give him in his Embassy to _Pharaoh_, he bids him say that _I am_

hath sent you. Our great Creator, by this Revelation of himself, does in

a manner exclude every thing else from a real Existence, and

distinguishes himself from his Creatures, as the only Being which truly

and really exists. The ancient Platonick Notion, which was drawn from

Speculations of Eternity, wonderfully agrees with this Revelation which

God has made of himself. There is nothing, say they, which in Reality

exists, whose Existence, as we call it, is pieced up of past, present,

and to come. Such a flitting and successive Existence is rather a Shadow

of Existence, and something which is like it, than Existence it self. He

only properly exists whose Existence is intirely present; that is, in

other Words, who exists in the most perfect Manner, and in such a Manner

as we have no Idea of.

I shall conclude this Speculation with one useful Inference. How can we

sufficiently prostrate our selves and fall down before our Maker, when

we consider that ineffable Goodness and Wisdom which contrived this

Existence for finite Natures? What must be the Overflowings of that good

Will, which prompted our Creator to adapt Existence to Beings, in whom

it is not necessary? Especially when we consider that he himself was

before him in the compleat Possession of Existence and of Happiness, and

in the full Enjoyment of Eternity. What Man can think of himself as

called out and separated from nothing, of his being made a conscious, a

reasonable and a happy Creature, in short, of being taken in as a Sharer

of Existence, and a kind of Partner in Eternity, without being swallowed

up in Wonder, in Praise, in Adoration! It is indeed a Thought too big

for the Mind of Man, and rather to be entertained in the Secrecy of

Devotion, and in the Silence of the Soul, than to be expressed by Words.

The Supreme Being has not given us Powers or Faculties sufficient to

extol and magnifie such unutterable Goodness.

It is however some Comfort to us, that we shall be always doing what we

shall be never able to do, and that a Work which cannot be finished,

will however be the Work of an Eternity.

[Footnote 1: See Nos. 565, 571, 580, and 628.]

* * * * *

No. 591. Wednesday, September 8, 1714. Budgell.

'--Tenerorum lusor amorum--'

Ovid.

I have just receiv'd a Letter from a Gentleman, who tells me he has

observed, with no small Concern, that my Papers have of late been very

barren in relation to Love [1]; a Subject which when agreeably handled,

can scarce fail of being well receiv'd by both Sexes.

If my Invention therefore should be almost exhausted on this Head, he

offers to serve under me in the Quality of a _Love Casuist_; for which

Place he conceives himself to be throughly qualified, having made this

Passion his Principal Study, and observed it in all its different Shapes

and Appearances, from the Fifteenth to the Forty Fifth Year of his Age.

He assures me with an Air of Confidence, which I hope proceeds from his

real Abilities, that he does not doubt of giving Judgment to the

Satisfaction of the Parties concerned, on the most nice and intricate

Cases which can happen in an Amour; as,

How great the Contraction of the Fingers must be before it amounts to

a Squeeze by the Hand.

What can be properly termed an absolute Denial from a Maid, and what

from a Widow.

What Advances a Lover may presume to make, after having received a

Patt upon his Shoulder from his Mistress's Fan.

Whether a Lady, at the first Interview, may allow an Humble Servant to

kiss her Hand.

How far it may be permitted to caress the Maid in order to succeed

with the Mistress.

What Constructions a Man may put upon a Smile, and in what Cases a

Frown goes for nothing.

On what Occasions a sheepish Look may do Service, _&c_.

As a farther Proof of his Skill, he has also sent me several Maxims in

Love, which he assures me are the Result of a long and profound

Reflection, some of which I think my self obliged to communicate to the

Publick, not remembering to have seen them before in any Author.

'There are more Calamities in the World arising from Love than from

Hatred.

'Love is the Daughter of _Idleness_, but the Mother of _Disquietude_.

'Men of grave Natures (says Sir _Francis Bacon_) are the most

constant; for the same Reason Men should be more constant than Women.

'The Gay Part of Mankind is most amorous, the Serious most loving.

'A Coquet often loses her Reputation, whilst she preserves her Virtue.

'A Prude often preserves her Reputation when she has lost her Virtue.

'Love refines a Man's Behaviour, but makes a Woman's ridiculous.

'Love is generally accompanied with Good-will in the Young, Interest

in the Middle-aged, and a Passion too gross to Name in the Old.

'The Endeavours to revive a decaying Passion generally extinguish the

Remains of it.

'A Woman who from being a Slattern becomes over-neat, or from being

over-neat becomes a Slattern, is most certainly in Love.

I shall make use of this Gentleman's Skill as I see Occasion; and since

I am got upon the Subject of Love, shall conclude this Paper with a Copy

of Verses which were lately sent me by an unknown Hand, as I look upon

them to be above the ordinary Run of Sonneteers.

The Author tells me they were written in one of his despairing Fits; and

I find entertains some Hope that his Mistress may pity such a Passion as

he has described, before she knows that she is herself _Corinna_.

'Conceal, fond Man, conceal the mighty Smart,

Nor tell_ Corinna _she has fir'd thy Heart.

In vain would'st thou complain, in vain pretend

To ask a Pity which she must not lend.

She's too much thy Superior to comply,

And too too fair to let thy Passion dye.

Languish in Secret, and with dumb Surprize

Drink the resistless Glances of her Eyes.

At awful Distance entertain thy Grief,

Be still in Pain, but never ask Relief.

Ne'er tempt her Scorn of thy consuming State;

Be any way undone, but fly her Hate.

Thou must submit to see thy Charmer bless

Some happier Youth that shall admire her less;

Who in that lovely Form, that Heavenly Mind,

Shall miss ten thousand Beauties thou could'st find;

Who with low Fancy shall approach her Charms,

While half enjoy'd she sinks into his Arms.

She knows not, must not know, thy nobler Fire,

Whom she, and whom the Muses do inspire;

Her Image only shall thy Breast employ,

And fill thy captiv'd Soul with Shades of joy;

Direct thy Dreams by Night, thy Thoughts by Day;

And never, never, from thy Bosom stray.' [2]

[Footnote 1: See Nos. 602, 605, 614, 623, and 625.]

[Footnote 2: These verses were by Gilbert Budgell, second brother of

Eustace.]

* * * * *

No. 592. Friday, September 10, 1714. Addison.

'--Studium sine divite Vena--'

Hor.

I look upon the Play-house as a World within it self. They have lately

furnished the Middle Region of it with a new Sett of Meteors, in order

to give the Sublime to many modern Tragedies. I was there last Winter at

the first Rehearsal of the new Thunder [1], which is much more deep and

sonorous than any hitherto made use of. They have a _Salmoneus_ behind

the Scenes, who plays it off with great Success. Their Lightnings are

made to flash more briskly than heretofore; their Clouds are also better

furbelow'd, and more voluminous; not to mention a violent Storm locked

up in a great Chest that is designed for the _Tempest_. They are also

provided with above a Dozen Showers of Snow, which, as I am informed,

are the Plays of many unsuccessful Poets artificially cut and shreaded

for that Use. Mr. _Rimer's Edgar_ is to fall in Snow at the next acting

of King _Lear_, in order to heighten, or rather to alleviate, the

Distress of that unfortunate Prince; and to serve by way of Decoration

to a Piece which that great Critick has written against.

I do not indeed wonder that the Actors should be such professed Enemies

to those among our Nation who are commonly known by the Name of

Criticks, since it is a Rule among these Gentlemen to fall upon a Play,

not because it is ill written, but because it takes. Several of them lay

it down as a Maxim, That whatever Dramatick Performance has a long Run,

must of Necessity be good for nothing; as though the first Precept in

Poetry were _not to please_. Whether this Rule holds good or not, I

shall leave to the Determination of those who are better Judges than my

self: If it does, I am sure it tends very much to the Honour of those

Gentlemen who have established it; few of their Pieces having been

disgraced by a Run of three Days, and most of them being so exquisitely

written, that the Town would never give them more than one Night's

Hearing.

I have a great Esteem for a true Critick, such as _Aristotle_ and

_Longinus_ among the _Greeks_, _Horace_ and _Quintilian_ among the

_Romans_, _Boileau_ and _Dacier_ among the _French_. But it is our

Misfortune, that some who set up for professed Criticks among us are so

stupid, that they do not know how to put ten Words together with

Elegance or common Propriety, and withal so illiterate, that they have

no Taste of the learned Languages, and therefore criticise upon old

Authors only at second-hand. They judge of them by what others have

written, and not by any Notions they have of the Authors themselves. The

Words Unity, Action, Sentiment, and Diction, pronounced with an Air of

Authority, give them a Figure among unlearned Readers, who are apt to

believe they are very deep, because they are unintelligible. The Ancient

Criticks are full of the Praises of their Contemporaries; they discover

Beauties which escaped the Observation of the Vulgar, and very often

find out Reasons for palliating and excusing such little Slips and

Oversights as were committed in the Writings of eminent Authors. On the

contrary, most of the Smatterers in Criticism who appear among us, make

it their Business to vilifie and depreciate every new Production that

gains Applause, to descry imaginary Blemishes, and to prove by

far-fetch'd Arguments, that what pass for Beauties in any celebrated

Piece are Faults and Errors. In short, the Writings of these Criticks

compared with those of the Ancients, are like the Works of the Sophists

compared with those of the old Philosophers.

Envy and Cavil are the natural Fruits of Laziness and Ignorance; which

was probably the Reason, that in the Heathen Mythology _Momus_ is said

to be the Son of _Nox_ and _Somnus_, of Darkness and Sleep. Idle Men,

who have not been at the Pains to accomplish or distinguish themselves,

are very apt to detract from others; as ignorant Men are very subject to

decry those Beauties in a celebrated Work which they have not Eyes to

discover. Many of our Sons of _Momus_, who dignify themselves by the

Name of Criticks, are the genuine Descendants of these two illustrious

Ancestors. They are often led into those numerous Absurdities, in which

they daily instruct the People, by not considering that, _1st_, There is

sometimes a greater Judgment shewn in deviating from the Rules of Art,

than in adhering to them; and, _2dly_, That there is more Beauty in the

Works of a great Genius who is ignorant of all the Rules of Art, than in

the Works of a little Genius, who not only knows, but scrupulously

observes them.

First, We may often take Notice of Men who are perfectly acquainted with

all the Rules of good Writing, and notwithstanding chuse to depart from

them on extraordinary Occasions. I could give Instances out of all the

Tragick Writers of Antiquity who have shewn their Judgment in this

Particular; and purposely receded from an established Rule of the Drama,

when it has made way for a much higher Beauty than the Observation of

such a Rule would have been. Those who have surveyed the noblest Pieces

of Architecture and Statuary both ancient and modern, know very well

that there are frequent Deviations from Art in the Works of the greatest

Masters, which have produced a much nobler Effect than a more accurate

and exact way of Proceeding could have done. This often arises from what

the _Italians_ call the _Gusto Grande_ in these Arts, which is what we

call the Sublime in Writing.

In the next Place, our Criticks do not seem sensible that there is more

Beauty in the Works of a great Genius who is ignorant of the Rules of

Art, than in those of a little Genius who knows and observes them. It is

of these Men of Genius that _Terence_ speaks, in Opposition to the

little artificial Cavillers of his Time;

'Quorum æmulari exoptat negligentiam

Potiùs, quàm istorum obscuram diligentiam.'

A Critick may have the same Consolation in the ill Success of his Play,

as Dr. _South_ tells us a Physician has at the Death of a Patient, That

he was killed _secundum artem_. Our inimitable _Shakespear_ is a

Stumbling-Block to the whole Tribe of these rigid Criticks. Who would

not rather read one of his Plays, where there is not a single Rule of

the Stage observed, than any Production of a modern Critick, where there

is not one of them violated? _Shakespear_ was indeed born with all the

Seeds of Poetry, and may be compared to the Stone in _Pyrrhus's_ Ring,

which, as _Pliny_ tells us, had the Figure of _Apollo_ and the Nine

Muses in the Veins of it, produced by the spontaneous Hand of Nature,

without any Help from Art.

[Footnote 1: John Dennis's invention, of which he said with exultation,

'That's my thunder.']

* * * * *

No. 593. Monday, September 13, 1714. Byrom.

'Quale per incertam Lunam sub luce maligna

Est iter in Sylvis:--'

Virg.

My dreaming Correspondent, Mr. _Shadow_, has sent me a second Letter,

with several curious Observations on Dreams in general, and the Method

to render Sleep improving: An Extract of his Letter will not, I presume,

be disagreeable to my Readers.

'Since we have so little Time to spare, that none of it may be lost, I

see no Reason why we should neglect to examine those imaginary Scenes

we are presented with in Sleep, only because they have less Reality in

them than our waking Meditations. A Traveller would bring his Judgment

in Question who should despise the Directions of his Map for want of

real Roads in it, because here stands a _Dott_ instead of a Town, or a

_Cypher_ instead of a City, and it must be a long Day's Journey to

travel thro' two or three Inches. Fancy in Dreams gives us much such

another Landskip of Life as that does of Countries, and tho' its

Appearances may seem strangely jumbled together, we may often observe

such Traces and Footsteps of noble Thoughts, as, if carefully pursued,

might lead us into a proper Path of Action. There is so much Rapture

and Extasie in our fancied Bliss, and something so dismal and shocking

in our fancied Misery, that tho' the Inactivity of the Body has given

Occasion for calling Sleep the Image of _Death_, the Briskness of the

Fancy affords us a strong Intimation of something within us that can

never die.

'I have wondered, that _Alexander_ the Great, who came into the World

sufficiently dreamt of by his Parents, and had himself a tolerable

Knack at dreaming, should often say, that

'Sleep was one thing which made him sensible he was Mortal.'

I who have not such Fields of Action in the Daytime to divert my

Attention from this Matter, plainly perceive, that in those Operations

of the Mind, while the Body is at rest, there is a certain Vastness of

Conception very suitable to the Capacity, and demonstrative of the

Force of that Divine Part in our Composition which will last for ever.

Neither do I much doubt but had we a true Account of the Wonders the

Hero last mentioned performed in his Sleep, his conquering this little

Globe would hardly be worth mentioning. I may affirm, without Vanity,

that when I compare several Actions in _Quintus Curtius_ with some

others in my own Noctuary, I appear the greater Hero of the two.

I shall close this Subject with observing, that while we are awake we

are at Liberty to fix our Thoughts on what we please, but in Sleep we

have not the Command of them. The Ideas which strike the Fancy, arise

in us without our Choice, either from the Occurrences of the Day past,

the Temper we lye down in, or it may be the Direction of some superior

Being.

It is certain the Imagination may be so differently affected in Sleep,

that our Actions of the Day might be either rewarded or punished with

a little Age of Happiness or Misery. St. _Austin_ was of Opinion, that

if in _Paradise_ there was the same Vicissitude of sleeping and waking

as in the present World, the Dreams of its Inhabitants would be very

happy.

And so far at present our Dreams are in our Power, that they are

generally conformable to our waking Thoughts, so that it is not

impossible to convey our selves to a Consort of Musick, the

Conversation of Distant Friends, or any other Entertainment which has

been before lodged in the Mind.

My Readers, by applying these Hints will find the Necessity of making

a _good Day_ of it, if they heartily wish themselves a good Night.

I have often consider'd _Marcia's_ Prayer, and _Lucius's_ Account of

_Cato_, in this Light.

Marc. O ye immortal Powers, that guard the Just,

Watch round his Couch, and soften his Repose,

Banish his Sorrows, and becalm his Soul

With easie Dreams; remember all his Virtues;

And shew Mankind that Goodness is your Care.

Luc. Sweet are the Slumbers of the virtuous Man!

O Marcia, I have seen thy Godlike Father:

Some Pow'r invisible supports his Soul,

And bears it up in all its wonted Greatness.

A kind refreshing Sleep is fall'n upon him:

I saw him stretcht at Ease, his Fancy lost

In pleasing Dreams; as I drew near his Couch,

He smil'd, and cry'd, Cæsar, thou canst not hurt me.

Mr. _Shadow_ acquaints me in a Postscript, that he has no manner of

Title to the Vision which succeeded his first Letter; but adds, that as

the Gentleman who wrote it Dreams very sensibly, he shall be glad to

meet him some Night or other, under the great Elm Tree, by which

_Virgil_ has given us a fine Metaphorical Image of Sleep, in order to

turn over a few of the Leaves together, and oblige the Publick with an

Account of the Dreams that lie under them.

* * * * *

No. 594. Wednesday, September 15, 1714.

'--Absentem qui rodit amicum,

Qui non defendit, alio culpante; solutos

Qui captat risus hominum, famamque dicacis,

Fingere qui non visa potest, commissa tacere

Qui nequit, hic niger est: hunc tu Romane caveto.'

Hor.

Were all the Vexations of Life put together, we should find that a great

Part of them proceed from those Calumnies and Reproaches which we spread

abroad concerning one another.

There is scarce a Man living who is not, in some Degree, guilty of this

Offence; tho', at the same time, however we treat one another, it must

be confessed, that we all consent in speaking ill of the Persons who are

notorious for this Practice. It generally takes its Rise either from an

Ill-will to Mankind, a private Inclination to make our selves esteemed,

an Ostentation of Wit, a Vanity of being thought in the Secrets of the

World, or from a Desire of gratifying any of these Dispositions of Mind

in those Persons with whom we converse.

The Publisher of Scandal is more or less odious to Mankind, and criminal

in himself, as he is influenced by any one or more of the foregoing

Motives. But whatever may be the Occasion of spreading these false

Reports, he ought to consider, that the Effect of them is equally

prejudicial and pernicious to the Person at whom they are aimed. The

Injury is the same, tho' the Principle from whence it proceeds may be

different.

As every one looks upon himself with too much Indulgence, when he passes

a Judgment on his own Thoughts or Actions, and as very few would be

thought guilty of this abominable Proceeding, which is so universally

practised, and, at the same time, so universally blamed, I shall lay

down three Rules by which I would have a Man examine and search into his

own Heart, before he stands acquitted to himself of that evil

Disposition of Mind which I am here mentioning.

_First_ of all, Let him consider whether he does not take Delight in

hearing the Faults of others.

_Secondly_, Whether he is not too apt to believe such little blackning

Accounts, and more inclined to be credulous on the uncharitable than

on the good-natured Side.

_Thirdly_, Whether he is not ready to spread and propagate such

Reports as tend to the Disreputation of another. These are the several

Steps by which this Vice proceeds, and grows up into Slander and

Defamation.

In the first Place, A Man who takes delight in hearing the Faults of

others, shows sufficiently that he has a true Relish of Scandal, and

consequently the Seeds of this Vice within him. If his mind is gratified

with hearing the Reproaches [which [1]] are cast on others, he will find

the same Pleasure in relating them, and be the more apt to do it, as he

will naturally imagine every one he converses with is delighted in the

same manner with himself. A Man should endeavour therefore to wear out

of his Mind this criminal Curiosity, which is perpetually heightened and

inflamed by listening to such Stories as tend to the Disreputation of

others.

In the second Place, a Man should consult his own Heart, whether he be

not apt to _believe_ such little blackening Accounts, and more enclined

to be credulous on the uncharitable, than on the good-natured Side.

Such a Credulity is very vicious in it self, and generally arises from a

Man's Consciousness of his own secret Corruptions. It is a pretty Saying

of _Thales_, Falshood is just as far distant from Truth, as the Ears are

from the Eyes. [2] By which he would intimate, that a wise Man should

not easily give Credit to the Reports of Actions which he has not seen.

I shall, under this Head, mention two or three remarkable Rules to be

observed by the Members of the celebrated Abbey _de la Trape_, as they

are Published in a little _French_ Book. [3]

The Fathers are there ordered, never to give an Ear to any Accounts of

Base or Criminal Actions; to turn off all such Discourse if possible;

but in Case they hear any thing of this Nature so well attested that

they cannot disbelieve it, they are then to suppose, that the criminal

Action may have proceeded from a good Intention in him who is guilty of

it. This is perhaps carrying Charity to an Extravagance, but it is

certainly much more Laudable, than to suppose, as the ill-natured part

of the World does, that indifferent, and even Good Actions, proceed from

bad Principles and wrong Intentions.

In the third Place, a Man should examine his Heart, whether he does not

find in it a secret Inclination to propagate such Reports, as tend to

the Disreputation of another.

When the Disease of the Mind, which I have hitherto been speaking of,

arises to this Degree of Malignity it discovers its self in its worst

Symptoms, and is in danger of becoming incurable. I need not therefore

insist upon the Guilt in this last Particular, which every one cannot

but disapprove, who is not void of Humanity, or even common Discretion.

I shall only add, that whatever Pleasure any Man may take in spreading

Whispers of this Nature, he will find an infinitely greater Satisfaction

in conquering the Temptation he is under, by letting the Secret die

within his own Breast.

[Footnote 1: [that]]

[Footnote 2: Stobaji, Serm. 61.]

[Footnote 3: Felibien, Description de l'Abbaye de la Trappe, Paris,

1671, reprinted in 1682. It is a letter from M. Felibien to the Duchess

of Liancon.]

* * * * *

No. 595. Friday, September 17, 1714.

'--Non ut placidis coeant immitia, non ut

Serpentes avibus geminentur, tigribus agni--'

Hor.

If ordinary Authors would condescend to write as they think, they would

at least be allow'd the Praise of being intelligible. But they really

take Pains to be ridiculous; and, by the studied Ornaments of Style,

perfectly disguise the little Sense they aim at. There is a Grievance of

this Sort in the Common-wealth of Letters, which I have for some time

resolved to redress, and accordingly I have set this Day apart for

Justice. What I mean is, the _Mixture of inconsistent Metaphors_, which

is a Fault but too often found in learned Writers, but in all the

unlearned without Exception.

In order to set this Matter in a clear Light to every Reader, I shall in

the first Place observe, that a Metaphor is a Simile in one Word, which

serves to convey the Thoughts of the Mind under Resemblances and Images

which affect the Senses. There is not any thing in the World, which may

not be compared to several Things, if considered in several distinct

Lights; or, in other Words, the same thing may be expressed by different

Metaphors. But the Mischief is, that an unskilful Author shall run these

Metaphors so absurdly into one another, that there shall be no Simile,

no agreeable Picture, no apt Resemblance, but Confusion, Obscurity, and

Noise. Thus I have known a Hero compared to a Thunderbolt, a Lion, and

the Sea; all and each of them proper Metaphors for impetuosity, Courage

or Force. But by bad Management it hath so happened, that the

Thunder-bolt hath overflowed its Banks; the Lion hath been darted

through the Skies, and the Billows have rolled out of the _Libyan_

Desart.

The Absurdity in this Instance is obvious. And yet every time that

clashing Metaphors are put together, this Fault is committed more or

less. It hath already been said, that Metaphors are Images of things

which affect the Senses. An Image therefore, taken from what acts upon

the Sight, cannot, without Violence, be applied to the Hearing; and so

of the rest. It is no less an impropriety to make any Being in Nature or

Art to do things in its Metaphorical State, which it could not do in its

Original. I shall illustrate what I have said by an Instance which I

have read more than once in Controversial Writers. _The heavy Lashes_,

saith a celebrated Author, _that have dropped from your Pen_, &c. I

suppose this Gentleman having frequently heard of _Gall dropping from a

Pen_, and _being lashed in a Satyr_, he was resolved to have them both

at any Rate, and so uttered this compleat Piece of Nonsense. It will

most effectually discover the Absurdity of these monstrous Unions, if we

will suppose these Metaphors or Images actually Painted. Imagine then a

Hand holding a Pen, and several Lashes of Whip-cord falling from it, and

you have the true Representation of this sort of Eloquence. I believe,

by this very Rule, a Reader may be able to judge of the Union of all

Metaphors whatsoever, and determine which are Homogeneous and which

Heterogeneous: or to speak more plainly, which are Consistent, and which

Inconsistent.

There is yet one Evil more which I must take notice of, and that is the

running of Metaphors into tedious Allegories; which, though an Error on

the better Hand, causes Confusion as much as the other. This becomes

abominable, when the Lustre of one Word leads a Writer out of his Road,

and makes him wander from his Subject for a Page together. I remember a

young Fellow, of this Turn, who having said by Chance that his Mistress

had a _World_ of Charms, thereupon took Occasion to consider her as one

possessed of Frigid and Torrid Zones, and pursued her from the one Pole

to the other. I shall conclude this Paper with a Letter written in that

enormous Style, which I hope my Reader hath by this time set his Heart

against. The Epistle hath heretofore received great Applause; but after

what hath been said, let any Man commend it if he dare.

_SIR,_

'After the many heavy _Lashes_ that have fallen from your _Pen_, you

may justly expect in return all the _Load_ that my _Ink_ can lay upon

your Shoulders. You have _Quartered_ all the foul _Language_ upon me,

that could be _raked_ out of the Air of _Billingsgate_, without

knowing who I am, or whether I deserved to be _Cupped_ and _Scarified_

at this rate. I tell you once for all, turn your _Eyes_ where you

please, you shall never _Smell_ me out. Do you think that the

_Panicks_, which you _sow_ about the Parish, will ever _build_ a

Monument to your Glory? No, Sir, you may _Fight_ these Battles as long

as you will, but when you come to _Ballance_ the Account you will find

that you have been _Fishing_ in troubled Waters, and that an _Ignis

fatuus_ hath bewildered you, and that indeed you have _built_ upon a

sandy Foundation, and brought your _Hogs_ to a fair Market.

_I am, SIR,

Yours, &c._

* * * * *

No. 596. Monday, September 20, 1714.

'Molle meum levibus Cor est violabile Telis.'

Ovid.

The Case of my Correspondent who sends me the following Letter has

somewhat in it so very whimsical, that I know not how to entertain my

Readers better than by laying it before them.

_SIR,_

'I am fully convinced that there is not upon Earth a more impertinent

Creature than an importunate Lover: We are daily complaining of the

Severity of our Fate, to People who are wholly unconcerned in it; and

hourly improving a Passion, which we would persuade the World is the

Torment of our Lives. Notwithstanding this Reflection, Sir, I cannot

forbear acquainting you with my own Case. You must know then, Sir,

that even from my Childhood, the most prevailing Inclination I could

perceive in my self, was a strong Desire to be in Favour with the Fair

Sex. I am at present in the one and twentieth Year of my Age, and

should have made Choice of a She Bed-fellow many Years since, had not

my Father, who has a pretty good Estate of his own getting, and passes

in the World for a prudent Man, being pleased to lay it down as a

Maxim, That nothing spoils a young Fellow's Fortune so much as

marrying early; and that no Man ought to think of Wedlock 'till six

and twenty. Knowing his Sentiments upon this Head, I thought it in

vain to apply my self to Women of Condition, who expect Settlements;

so that all my Amours have hitherto been with Ladies who had no

Fortunes: But I know not how to give you so good an Idea of me, as by

laying before you the History of my Life.

'I can very well remember, that at my School-mistresses, whenever we

broke up, I was always for joining my self with the Miss who _Lay in_,

and was constantly one of the first to make a Party in the Play of

_Husband and Wife_. This Passion for being well with the Females still

increased as I advanced in Years. At the Dancing-School I contracted

so many Quarrels by struggling with my Fellow-Scholars for the Partner

I liked best, that upon a Ball Night, before our Mothers made their

Appearance, I was usually up to the Nose in Blood. My Father, like a

discreet Man, soon removed me from this Stage of Softness to a School

of Discipline, where I learnt _Latin and Greek_. I underwent several

Severities in this Place, 'till it was thought convenient to send me

to the University; though, to confess the Truth, I should not have

arrived so early at that Seat of Learning, but from the Discovery of

an Intrigue between me and my Master's House-Keeper; upon whom I had

employed my Rhetorick so effectually, that, though she was a very

elderly Lady, I had almost brought her to consent to marry me. Upon my

Arrival at _Oxford_, I found Logick so dry, that, instead of giving

Attention to the Dead, I soon fell to addressing the Living. My first

Amour was with a pretty Girl whom I shall call _Parthenope_: Her

Mother sold Ale by the Town-Wall. Being often caught there by the

Proctor, I was forced at last, that my Mistress's Reputation might

receive no Blemish, to confess my Addresses were honourable. Upon this

I was immediately sent Home; but _Parthenope_ soon after marrying a

Shoe-maker, I was again suffered to return. My next Affair was with my

Taylor's Daughter, who deserted me for the sake of a young Barber.

Upon my complaining to one of my particular Friends of this

Misfortune, the cruel Wagg made a meer Jest of my Calamity, and asked

me with a Smile, _Where the_ Needle _should turn but to the_ Pole? [1]

After this I was deeply in Love with a Milliner, and at last with my

Bed-maker, upon which I was sent away, or in the University Phrase,

_Rusticated_ for ever.

'Upon my coming home, I settled to my Studies so heartily, and

contracted so great a Reservedness by being kept from the Company I

most affected, that my Father thought he might venture me at the

_Temple_.

'Within a Week after my Arrival I began to shine again, and became

enamour'd with a mighty pretty Creature, who had every thing but Mony

to recommend her. Having frequent Opportunities of uttering all the

soft things which an Heart formed for Love could inspire me with, I

soon gained her Consent to treat of Marriage; but unfortunately for us

all, in the Absence of my Charmer I usually talked the same Language

to her elder Sister, who is also very pretty. Now I assure you, Mr.

SPECTATOR, this did not proceed from any real Affection I had

conceived for her; but being a perfect Stranger to the Conversation of

Men, and strongly addicted to associate with the Women, I knew no

other Language but that of Love. I should however be very much obliged

to you, if you could free me from the Perplexity I am at present in. I

have sent Word to my old Gentleman in the Country, that I am

desperately in Love with the younger Sister! and her Father, who knew

no better, poor Man! acquainted him by the same Post, that I had for

some time made my Addresses to the Elder. Upon this old Testy sends me

up Word, that he has heard so much of my Exploits, that he intends

immediately to order me to the _South-Sea_. Sir, I have occasionally

talked so much of dying, that I begin to think there is not much in

it; and if the old Squire persists in his Design, I do hereby give him

Notice that I am providing my self with proper Instruments for the

Destruction of despairing Lovers; let him therefore look to it, and

consider that by his Obstinacy he may himself lose the Son of his

Strength, the World an hopeful Lawyer, my Mistress a passionate Lover,

and you, Mr. SPECTATOR,

_Your constant Admirer_,

Jeremy Lovemore.

_Middle-Temple_,

_Sept._ 18.

[Footnote 1: Sign of a Barber's shop.]

* * * * *

No. 597. Wednesday, September 22, 1714. Byrom.

'--Metis sine Pondere ludit--'

Petr.

Since I received my Friend _Shadow's_ Letter, several of my

Correspondents have been pleased to send me an Account how they have

been employed in Sleep, and what notable Adventures they have been

engaged in during that Moonshine in the Brain. I shall lay before my

Readers an Abridgment of some few of their Extravagancies, in hopes that

they will in Time accustom themselves to dream a little more to the

Purpose.

One who styles himself _Gladio_, complains heavily that his Fair One

charges him with Inconstancy, and does not use him with half the

Kindness which the Sincerity of his Passion may demand; the said

_Gladio_ having by Valour and Stratagem put to Death Tyrants,

Inchanters, Monsters, Knights, &c. without Number, and exposed himself

to all manner of Dangers for her Sake and Safety. He desires in his

Postscript to know, whether, from a constant Success in them, he may not

promise himself to succeed in her Esteem at last.

Another who is very prolix in his Narrative writes me Word, that having

sent a Venture beyond Sea, he took Occasion one Night to fancy himself

gone along with it, and grown on a sudden the richest Man in all the

_Indies_. Having been there about a Year or two, a Gust of Wind that

forced open his Casement blew him over to his native Country again,

where awaking at Six a Clock, and the Change of the Air not agreeing

with him, he turned to his Left Side in order to a second Voyage: but

e'er he could get on Shipboard, was unfortunately apprehended for

stealing a Horse, try'd and condemn'd for the Fact, and in a fair way of

being executed, if some Body stepping hastily into his Chamber had not

brought him a Reprieve. This Fellow too wants Mr. _Shadow's_ Advice,

who, I dare say, would bid him be content to rise after his first Nap,

and learn to be satisfied as soon as Nature is.

The next is a publick-spirited Gentleman, who tells me, That on the

Second of September at Night the whole City was on Fire, and would

certainly have been reduced to Ashes again by this Time, if he had not

flown over it with the _New River_ on his Back, and happily extinguished

the Flames before they had prevailed too far. He would be informed

whether he has not a Right to petition the Lord Mayor and Alderman for a

Reward.

A Letter dated September the Ninth acquaints me, That the Writer being

resolved to try his Fortune, had fasted all that Day; and that he might

be sure of dreaming upon something at Night, procured an handsome Slice

of Bride-Cake, which he placed very conveniently under his Pillow. In

the Morning his Memory happen'd to fail him, and he could recollect

nothing but an odd Fancy that he had eaten his Cake; which being found

upon Search reduced to a few Crums, he is resolved to remember more of

his Dreams another Time, believing from this that there may possibly be

somewhat of Truth in them.

I have received numerous Complaints from several delicious Dreamers,

desiring me to invent some Method of silencing those noisy Slaves, whose

Occupations lead them to take their early Rounds about the City in a

Morning, doing a deal of Mischief; and working strange Confusion in the

Affairs of its Inhabitants. Several Monarchs have done me the Honour to

acquaint me, how often they have been shook from their respective

Thrones by the rattling of a Coach or the rumbling of a Wheel-barrow.

And many private Gentlemen, I find, have been baulk'd of vast Estates by

Fellows not worth Three-pence. A fair Lady was just upon the Point of

being married to a young, handsome, rich, ingenious Nobleman, when an

impertinent Tinker passing by, forbid the Banns; and an hopeful Youth,

who had been newly advanced to great Honour and Preferment, was forced

by a neighbouring Cobler to resign all for an old Song. It has been

represented to me, that those inconsiderable Rascals do nothing but go

about dissolving of Marriages and spoiling of Fortunes, impoverishing

rich and ruining great People, interrupting Beauties in the midst of

their Conquests, and Generals in the Course of their Victories. A

boisterous Peripatetick hardly goes through a Street without waking half

a Dozen Kings and Princes to open their Shops or clean Shoes, frequently

transforming Sceptres into Paring-Shovels, and Proclamations into Bills.

I have by me a Letter from a young Statesman, who in five or six Hours

came to be Emperor of _Europe_, after which he made War upon the Great

Turk, routed him Horse and Foot, and was crowned Lord of the Universe in

_Constantinople_: the Conclusion of all his Successes is, that on the

12th Instant, about Seven in the Morning, his Imperial Majesty was

deposed by a Chimney--Sweeper.

On the other hand, I have Epistolary Testimonies of Gratitude from many

miserable People, who owe to this clamorous Tribe frequent Deliverances

from great Misfortunes. A Small-coalman, [1] by waking of one of these

distressed Gentlemen, saved him from ten Years Imprisonment. An honest

Watchman bidding aloud Good-morrow to another, freed him from the Malice

of many potent Enemies, and brought all their Designs against him to

nothing. A certain Valetudinarian confesses he has often been cured of a

sore Throat by the Hoarseness of a Carman, and relieved from a Fit of

the Gout by the Sound of _old Shoes_. A noisy Puppy that plagued a sober

Gentleman all Night long with his Impertinence, was silenced by a

Cinder-Wench with a Word speaking.

Instead therefore of suppressing this Order of Mortals, I would propose

it to my Readers to make the best Advantage of their Morning

Salutations. A famous _Macedonian_ Prince, for fear of forgetting

himself in the midst of his good Fortune, had a Youth to wait on him

every Morning, and bid him remember that he was a Man. A Citizen who is

waked by one of these Criers, may regard him as a kind of Remembrancer,

come to admonish him that it is time to return to the Circumstances he

has overlooked all the Night-time, to leave off fancying himself what he

is not, and prepare to act suitably to the Condition he is really placed

in.

People may dream on as long as they please, but I shall take no Notice

of any Imaginary Adventures that do not happen while the Sun is on this

Side of the Horizon. For which Reason I stifle _Fritilla's_ Dream at

Church last _Sunday_, who while the rest of the Audience were enjoying

the Benefit of an excellent Discourse, was losing her Money and Jewels

to a Gentleman at Play, till after a strange Run of ill Luck she was

reduced to pawn three lovely pretty Children for her last Stake. When

she had thrown them away her Companion went off, discovering himself by

his usual Tokens, a cloven Foot and a strong Smell of Brimstone; which

last proved only a Bottle of Spirits, which a good old Lady applied to

her Nose, to put her in a Condition of hearing the Preacher's third Head

concerning Time.

If a Man has no Mind to pass abruptly from his imagined to his real

Circumstances, he may employ himself a while in that new kind of

Observation which my Onicrocritical Correspondent has directed him to

make of himself. Pursuing the Imagination through all its

Extravagancies, whether in Sleeping or Waking, is no improper Method of

correcting and bringing it to act in Subordinancy to Reason, so as to be

delighted only with such Objects as will affect it with Pleasure, when

it is never so cool and sedate.

[Footnote 1: Thomas Britton. (Old Note.) Why he in particular?]

* * * * *

No. 598. Friday, September 24, 1714. Addison.

'Jamne igitur laudas, quod de sapientibus alter

Ridebat, quoties a limine moverat unum

Protuleratque pedem: flebat contrarius alter?'

Juv.

Mankind may be divided into the Merry and the Serious, who, both of

them, make a very good Figure in the Species, so long as they keep their

respective Humours from degenerating into the neighbouring Extreme;

there being a natural Tendency in the one to a melancholy Moroseness,

and in the other to a fantastick Levity.

The merry Part of the World are very amiable, whilst they diffuse a

Chearfulness through Conversation at proper Seasons and on proper

Occasions; but, on the contrary, a great Grievance to Society, when they

infect every Discourse with insipid Mirth, and turn into Ridicule such

Subjects as are not suited to it. For though Laughter is looked upon by

the Philosophers as the Property of Reason, the Excess of it has been

always considered as the Mark of Folly.

On the other Side, Seriousness has its Beauty whilst it is attended with

Chearfulness and Humanity, and does not come in unseasonably to pall the

good Humour of those with whom we converse.

These two Sets of Men, notwithstanding they each of them shine in their

respective Characters, are apt to bear a natural Aversion and Antipathy

to one another.

What is more usual, than to hear Men of serious Tempers and austere

Morals, enlarging upon the Vanities and Follies of the young and gay

Part of the Species; whilst they look with a kind of Horror upon such

Pomps and Diversions as are innocent in themselves, and only culpable

when they draw the Mind too much?

I could not but smile upon reading a Passage in the Account which Mr.

_Baxter_ gives of his own Life, wherein he represents it as a great

Blessing, that in his Youth he very narrowly escaped getting a Place at

Court.

It must indeed be confessed that Levity of Tamper takes a Man off his

Guard, and opens a Pass to his Soul for any Temptation that assaults it.

It favours all the Approaches of Vice, and weakens all the Resistance of

Virtue. For which Reason a renowned Statesman in Queen _Elizabeth's_

Days, after having retir'd from Court and publick Business, in order to

give himself up to the Duties of Religion; when any of his old Friends

used to visit him, had still this Word of Advice in his Mouth, _Be

serious._

An eminent _Italian_ Author of this Cast of Mind, speaking of the great

Advantage of a serious and composed Temper, wishes very gravely, that

for the Benefit of Mankind he had _Trophonius's_ Cave in his Possession;

which, says he, would contribute more to the Reformation of Manners than

all the Work-houses and Bridewells in _Europe_.

We have a very particular Description of this Cave in _Pausanias_, who

tells us, that it was made in the Form of a huge Oven, and had many

particular Circumstances, which disposed the Person who was in it to be

more pensive and thoughtful than ordinary; insomuch that no Man was ever

observed to laugh all his Life after, who had once made his Entry into

this Cave. It was usual in those Times, when any one carried a more than

ordinary Gloominess in his Features, to tell him that he looked like one

just come out of _Trophonius's_ Cave.

On the other hand, Writers of a more merry Complexion have been no less

severe on the opposite Party; and have had one Advantage above them,

that they have attacked them with more Turns of Wit and Humour.

After all, if a Man's Temper were at his own Disposal, I think he would

not chuse to be of either of these Parties; since the most perfect

Character is that which is formed out of both of them. A Man would

neither chuse to be a Hermit nor a Buffoon: Humane Nature is not so

miserable, as that we should be always melancholy; nor so happy, as that

we should be always merry. In a Word, a Man should not live as if there

was no God in the World; nor, at the same Time, as if there were no Men

in it.

* * * * *

No. 599. Monday, September 27, 1714.

'--Ubique

Luctus, ubique pavor--'

Virg.

It has been my Custom, as I grow old, to allow my self in some little

Indulgencies which I never took in my Youth. Among others is that of an

Afternoon's Napp, which I fell into in the Fifty fifth Year of my Age,

and have continued for the three Years last past. By this means I enjoy

a double Morning, and rise twice a-day fresh to my Speculations. It

happens very luckily for me, that some of my Dreams have proved

instructive to my Countrymen, so that I may be said to sleep, as well as

to wake, for the Good of the Publick. I was Yesterday meditating on the

Account with which I have already entertained my Readers concerning the

Cave of _Trophonius_. I was no sooner fallen into my usual Slumber, but

I dreamt that this Cave was put into my Possession, and that I gave

publick Notice of its Virtue, inviting every one to it, who had a mind

to be a serious Man for the remaining Part of his Life. Great Multitudes

immediately resorted to me. The first who made the Experiment was a

_Merry-Andrew_, who was put into my Hands by a neighbouring Justice of

Peace, in order to reclaim him from that profligate kind of Life. Poor

Pickle-herring had not taken above one Turn in it, when he came out of

the Cave, like a Hermit from his Cell, with a penitential Look, and a

most rueful Countenance. I then put in a young laughing Fop, and,

watching for his Return, asked him, with a Smile, how he liked the

Place? He replied, Pr'ythee Friend be not impertinent; and stalked by me

as grave as a Judge. A Citizen then desired me to give free Ingress and

Egress to his Wife, who was dressed in the gayest coloured Ribbons I had

ever seen. She went in with a Flirt of her Fan and a smirking

Countenance, but came out with a Severity of a Vestal, and throwing from

her several Female Gugaws, told me with a Sigh, that she resolved to go

into deep Mourning, and to wear Black all the rest of her Life. As I had

many Coquets recommended to me by their Parents, their Husbands, and

their Lovers, I let them in all at once, desiring them to divert

themselves together as well as they could. Upon their emerging again

into Day-light, you would have fancied my Cave to have been a Nunnery,

and that you had seen a solemn Procession of Religious marching out, one

behind another, in the most profound Silence and the most exemplary

Decency. As I was very much delighted with so edifying a Sight, there

came towards me a great Company of Males and Females laughing, singing,

and dancing, in such a manner that I could hear them a great while

before I saw them. Upon my asking their Leader, what brought them

thither? they told me all at once, that they were _French_ Protestants

lately arrived in _Great-Britain_, and that finding themselves of too

Gay a Humour for my Country, they applyed themselves to me in order to

compose them for _British_ Conversation. I told them, that to oblige

them I would soon spoil their Mirth; upon which I admitted a whole Shole

of them, who, after having taken a Survey of the Place, came out in a

very good Order, and with Looks entirely _English_. I afterwards put in

a _Dutch_ Man, who had a great Fancy to see the _Kelder_, as he called

it, but I could not observe that it had made any manner of Alteration in

him.

A Comedian who had gained great Reputation in Parts of Humour, told me,

that he had a mighty Mind to act _Alexander_ the Great, and fancied that

he should succeed very well in it, if he could strike two or three

laughing Features out of his Face: He tried the Experiment, but

contracted so very solid a Look by it, that I am afraid he will be fit

for no Part hereafter but a _Timon_ of _Athens_, or a Mute in the

_Funeral_.

I then clapt up an empty fantastic Citizen, in order to qualifie him for

an Alderman. He was succeeded by a young Rake of the _Middle-Temple_,

who was brought to me by his Grandmother; but to her great Sorrow and

Surprize, he came out a _Quaker_. Seeing my self surrounded with a Body

of _Free-thinkers_, and Scoffers at Religion, who were making themselves

merry at the sober Looks and thoughtful Brows of those who had been in

the Cave; I thrust them all in, one after another, and locked the Door

upon 'em. Upon my opening it, they all looked, as if they had been

frighted out of their Wits, and were marching away with Ropes in their

Hands to a Wood that was within Sight of the Place. I found they were

not able to bear themselves in their first serious Thoughts; but knowing

these would quickly bring them to a better Frame of Mind, I gave them

into the Custody of their Friends 'till that happy Change was wrought in

them.

The last that was brought to me was a young Woman, who at the first

Sight of my short Face fell into an immoderate fit of Laughter, and was

forced to hold her Sides all the while her Mother was speaking to me.

Upon this I interrupted the old Lady, and taking her Daughter by the

Hand, Madam, said I, be pleased to retire into my Closet, while your

Mother tells me your Case. I then put her into the Mouth of the Cave,

when the Mother, after having begg'd Pardon for the Girl's Rudeness,

told me, that she often treated her Father and the gravest of her

Relations in the same manner; that she would sit giggling and laughing

with her Companions from one End of a Tragedy to the other; nay, that

she would sometimes burst out in the Middle of a Sermon, and set the

whole Congregation a staring at her. The Mother was going on, when the

young Lady came out of the Cave to us with a composed Countenance, and a

low Curtsie. She was a Girl of such exuberant Mirth, that her Visit to

_Trophonius_ only reduced her to a more than ordinary Decency of

Behaviour, and made a very pretty Prude of her. After having performed

innumerable Cures, I looked about me with great Satisfaction, and saw

all my Patients walking by themselves in a very Pensive and musing

Posture, so that the whole Place seem'd covered with Philosophers. I was

at length resolv'd to go into the Cave my self, and see what it was that

had produced such wonderful Effects upon the Company; but as I was

stooping at the Entrance, the Door being something low, I gave such a

Nodd in my Chair, that I awaked. After having recovered my self from my

first Startle, I was very well pleas'd at the Accident which had

befallen me, as not knowing but a little Stay in the Place might have

spoiled my SPECTATORS.

* * * * *

No. 600. Wednesday, September 29, 1714. Addison.

'--Solemque suum, sua sidera norunt--'

Virg.

I have always taken a particular Pleasure in examining the Opinions

which Men of different Religions, different Ages, and different

Countries, have entertained concerning the Immortality of the Soul, and

the State of Happiness which they promise themselves in another World.

For whatever Prejudices and Errors human Nature lies under; we find that

either Reason, or Tradition from our first Parents, has discovered to

all People something in these great Points which bears Analogy to Truth,

and to the Doctrines opened to us by Divine Revelation. I was lately

discoursing on this Subject with a learned Person who has been very much

conversant among the Inhabitants of the more Western Parts of _Africk_

[1]. Upon his conversing with several in that Country, he tells me that

their Notion of Heaven or of a future State of Happiness is this, That

every thing we there wish for will immediately present it self to us. We

find, say they, our Souls are of such Nature that they require Variety,

and are not capable of being always delighted with the same Objects. The

Supreme Being therefore, in Compliance with this Taste of Happiness

which he has planted in the Soul of Man, will raise up from time to

time, say they, every Gratification which it is in the Humour to be

pleased with. If we wish to be in Groves or Bowers, among running

Streams or Falls of Water, we shall immediately find our selves in the

midst of such a Scene as we desire. If we would be entertained with

Musick and the Melody of Sounds, the Consort rises upon our Wish, and

the whole Region about us is filled with Harmony. In short, every Desire

will be followed by Fruition, and whatever a Man's Inclination directs

him to will be present with him. Nor is it material whether the Supreme

Power creates in Conformity to our Wishes, or whether he only produces

such a Change in our Imagination, as makes us believe our selves

conversant among those Scenes which delight us. Our Happiness will be

the same, whether it proceed from external Objects, or from the

Impressions of the Deity upon our own private Fancies. This is the

Account which I have received from my learned Friend. Notwithstanding

this System of Belief be in general very chimerical and visionary, there

is something sublime in its manner of considering the Influence of a

Divine Being on a Human Soul. It has also, like most other Opinions of

the Heathen World upon these important Points, it has, I say, its

Foundation in Truth, as it supposes the Souls of good Men after this

Life to be in a State of perfect Happiness, that in this State there

will be no barren Hopes, nor fruitless Wishes, and that we shall enjoy

every thing we can desire. But the particular Circumstance which I am

most pleas'd with in this Scheme, and which arises from a just

Reflection upon Human Nature, is that Variety of Pleasures which it

supposes the Souls of good Men will be possessed of in another World.

This I think highly probable, from the Dictates both of Reason and

Revelation. The Soul consists of many Faculties, as the Understanding,

and the Will, with all the Senses both outward and inward; or to speak

more Philosophically, the Soul can exert herself in many different Ways

of Action. She can understand, will, imagine, see, and hear, love, and

discourse, and apply herself to many other the like Exercises of

different Kinds and Natures; but what is more to be considered, the Soul

is capable of receiving a most exquisite Pleasure and Satisfaction from

the Exercise of any of these its Powers, when they are gratified with

their proper Objects; she can be entirely happy by the Satisfaction of

the Memory, the Sight, the Hearing, or any other Mode of Perception.

Every Faculty is as a distinct Taste in the Mind, and hath Objects

accommodated to its proper Relish. Doctor _Tillotson_ somewhere says

that he will not presume to determine in what consists the Happiness of

the Blest, because God Almighty is capable of making the Soul happy by

Ten thousand different Ways. Besides those several Avenues to Pleasure

which the Soul is endowed with in this Life; it is not impossible,

according to the Opinions of many eminent Divines, but there may be new

Faculties in the Souls of good Men made perfect, as well as new Senses

in their glorified Bodies. This we are sure of, that there will be new

Objects offer'd to all those Faculties which are essential to us.

We are likewise to take Notice that every particular Faculty is capable

of being employed on a very great Variety of Objects. The Understanding,

for Example, may be happy in the Contemplation of Moral, Natural,

Mathematical, and other Kinds of Truth. The Memory likewise may turn

itself to an infinite Multitude of Objects, especially when the Soul

shall have pass'd through the Space of many Millions of Years, and shall

reflect with Pleasure on the Days of Eternity. Every other Faculty may

be consider'd in the same Extent.

We cannot question but that the Happiness of a Soul will be adequate to

its Nature, and that it is not endowed with any Faculties which are to

lie useless and unemploy'd. The Happiness is to be the Happiness of the

whole Man, and we may easily conceive to our selves the Happiness of the

Soul, whilst any one of its Faculties is in the Fruition of its chief

Good. The Happiness may be of a more exalted Nature in Proportion as the

Faculty employed is so, but as the whole Soul acts in the Exertion of

any of its particular Powers, the whole Soul is happy in the Pleasure

which arises from any of its particular Acts. For notwithstanding, as

has been before hinted, and as it has been taken Notice of by one of the

greatest modern Philosophers, [2] we divide the Soul into several Powers

and Faculties, there is no such Division in the Soul it self, since it

is the whole Soul that remembers, understands, wills, or imagines. Our

manner of considering the Memory, Understanding, Will, Imagination, and

the like Faculties, is for the better enabling us to express our selves

in such abstracted Subjects of Speculation, not that there is any such

Division in the Soul it self.

Seeing then that the Soul has many different Faculties, or in other

Words, many different Ways of acting; that it can be intensely pleas'd,

or made happy by all these different Faculties, or Ways of acting; that

it may be endow'd with several latent Faculties, which it is not at

present in a Condition to exert; that we cannot believe the Soul is

endow'd with any Faculty which is of no Use to it; that whenever any one

of these Faculties is transcendently pleased, the Soul is in a State of

Happiness; and in the last Place considering that the Happiness of

another World is to be the Happiness of the whole Man; who can question

but that there is an infinite Variety in those Pleasures we are speaking

of; and that this Fulness of Joy will be made up of all those Pleasures

which the Nature of the Soul is capable of receiving.

We shall be the more confirmed in this Doctrine, if we observe the

Nature of Variety, with regard to the Mind of Man. The Soul does not

care to be always in the same bent. The Faculties relieve one another by

Turns, and receive an additional Pleasure from the Novelty of those

Objects about which they are conversant.

Revelation likewise very much confirms this Notion, under the different

Views which it gives us of our future Happiness. In the Description of

the Throne of God, it represents to us all those Objects which are able

to gratify the Senses and Imagination: In very many Places it intimates

to us all the Happiness which the Understanding can possibly receive in

that State, where all Things shall be revealed to us, and we shall know,

even as we are known; the Raptures of Devotion, of Divine Love, the

Pleasure of conversing with our Blessed Saviour, with an innumerable

Host of Angels, and with the Spirits of Just Men made Perfect, are

likewise revealed to us in several Parts of the Holy Writings. There are

also mentioned those Hierarchies or Governments, in which the Blest

shall be ranged one above another, and in which we may be sure a great

Part of our Happiness will likewise consist; for it will not be there as

in this World, where every one is aiming at Power and Superiority; but

on the contrary, every one will find that Station the most proper for

him in which he is placed, and will probably think that he could not

have been so happy in any other Station. These and many other

Particulars are marked in Divine Revelation, as the several Ingredients

of our Happiness in Heaven, which all imply such a Variety of Joys and

such a Gratification of the Soul in all its different Faculties, as I

have been here mentioning.

Some of the Rabbins tell us, that the Cherubims are a Set of Angels who

know most, and the Seraphims a Set of Angels who love most. Whether this

Distinction be not altogether Imaginary, I shall not here examine; but

it is highly probable that among the Spirits of good Men, there may be

some who will be more pleased with the Employment of one Faculty than of

another, and this perhaps according to those innocent and virtuous

Habits or Inclinations which have here taken the deepest Root.

I might here apply this Consideration to the Spirits of wicked Men, with

relation to the Pain which they shall suffer in every one of their

Faculties, and the respective Miseries which shall be appropriated to

each Faculty in particular. But leaving this to the Reflection of my

Readers, I shall conclude, with observing how we ought to be thankful to

our great Creator, and rejoice in the Being which he has bestowed upon

us, for having made the Soul susceptible of Pleasure by so many

different Ways.

We see by what a Variety of Passages, Joy and Gladness may enter into

the Thoughts of Man; how wonderfully a human Spirit is framed, to imbibe

its proper Satisfactions, and taste the Goodness of its Creator. We may

therefore look into our selves with Rapture and Amazement, and cannot

sufficiently express our Gratitude to him, who has encompassed us with

such a Profusion of Blessings, and opened in us so many Capacities of

enjoying them.

There cannot be a stronger Argument that God has designed us for a State

of future Happiness, and for that Heaven which he has revealed to us,

than that he has thus naturally qualified the Soul for it, and made it a

Being capable of receiving so much Bliss. He would never have made such

Faculties in vain, and have endowed us with Powers that were not to be

exerted on such Objects as are suited to them. It is very manifest, by

the inward Frame and Constitution of our Minds, that he has adapted them

to an infinite Variety of Pleasures and Gratifications, which are not to

be met with in this Life. We should therefore at all times take Care

that we do not disappoint this his gracious Purpose and Intention

towards us, and make those Faculties which he formed as so many

Qualifications for Happiness and Rewards, to be the Instruments of Pain

and Punishment.

[Footnote 1: Addison's father, who wrote an account of West Barbary,

died in 1703.]

[Footnote 2: Locke.]

* * * * *

No. 601. Friday, October 1, 1714. Henry Grove.

[Greek: Ho anthrôpos euergetòs pephykôs'

Antonin. Lib. 9.]

The following Essay comes from an Hand which has entertained my Readers

once before. [1]

Notwithstanding a narrow contracted Temper be that which obtains most in

the World, we must not therefore conclude this to be the genuine

Characteristick of Mankind; because there are some who delight in

nothing so much as in doing Good, and receive more of their Happiness at

second hand, or by rebound from others, than by direct and immediate

Sensation. Now tho' these Heroic Souls are but few, and to Appearance so

far advanced above the groveling Multitude, as if they were of another

Order of Beings, yet in Reality their Nature is the same, moved by the

same Springs, and endowed with all the same essential Qualities, only

cleared, refined, and cultivated.

Water is the same fluid Body in Winter and in Summer; when it stands

stiffened in Ice as when it flows along in gentle Streams gladdening a

thousand Fields in its Progress. 'Tis a Property of the Heart of Man to

be diffusive: Its kind Wishes spread abroad over the Face of the

Creation; and if there be those, as we may observe too many of them, who

are all wrapt up in their own dear selves, without any visible Concern

for their Species, let us suppose that their Good-nature is frozen, and

by the prevailing Force of some contrary Quality restrained in its

Operations. I shall therefore endeavour to assign some of the principal

Checks upon this generous Propension of the Human Soul, which will

enable us to judge whether, and by what Method, this most useful

Principle may be unfettered, and restored to its native Freedom of

Exercise.

The first and leading Cause is an unhappy Complexion of Body. The

Heathens, ignorant of the true Source of Moral Evil, generally charged

it on the Obliquity of Matter, which, being eternal and independent, was

incapable of Change in any of its Properties, even by the Almighty Mind,

who, when He came to fashion it into a World of Beings, must take it as

he found it. This Notion, as most others of theirs, is a Composition of

Truth and Error. That Matter is eternal, that from the first Union of a

Soul to it, it perverted its Inclinations, and that the ill Influence it

hath upon the Mind is not to be corrected by God himself, are all very

great Errors, occasioned by a Truth as evident, that the Capacities and

Dispositions of the Soul depend, to a great Degree, on the bodily

Temper. As there are some Fools, others are Knaves, by Constitution; and

particularly, it may be said of many, that they are born with an

illiberal Cast of Mind; the Matter that composes them is tenacious as

Birdlime, and a kind of Cramp draws their Hands and their Hearts

together, that they never care to open them unless to grasp at more.

'Tis a melancholy Lot this; but attended with one Advantage above

theirs, to whom it would be as painful to forbear good Offices, as it is

to these Men to perform them; that whereas Persons naturally Beneficent

often mistake Instinct for Virtue, by reason of the Difficulty of

distinguishing when one rules them and when the other, Men of the

opposite Character may be more certain of the Motive that predominates

in every Action. If they cannot confer a Benefit with that Ease and

Frankness which are necessary to give it a Grace in the Eye of the

World, in requital, the real Merit of what they do is inhanc'd by the

Opposition they surmount in doing it. The Strength of their Virtue is

seen in rising against the Weight of Nature, and every time they have

the Resolution to discharge their Duty, they make a Sacrifice of

Inclination to Conscience, which is always too grateful to let its

Followers go without suitable Marks of its Approbation. Perhaps the

entire Cure of this ill Quality is no more possible, than of some

Distempers that descend by Inheritance. However, a great deal may be

done by a Course of Beneficence obstinately persisted in; this, if any

thing, being a likely way of establishing a moral Habit, which shall be

somewhat of a Counterpoise to the Force of Mechanism. Only it must be

remembred, that we do not intermit, upon any Pretence whatsoever, the

Custom of doing Good, in regard if there be the least Cessation, Nature

will watch the Opportunity to return, and in a short time to recover the

Ground it was so long in quitting: For there is this Difference between

mental Habits, and such as have their Foundation in the Body; that these

last are in their Nature more forcible and violent, and, to gain upon

us, need only not to be opposed; whereas the former must be continually

reinforced with fresh Supplies, or they will languish and die away. And

this suggests the Reason why good Habits, in general, require longer

time for their Settlement than bad, and yet are sooner displaced; the

Reason is, that vicious Habits (as Drunkenness for Instance) produce a

Change in the Body, which the others not doing, must be maintained the

same way they are acquired, by the mere Dint of Industry, Resolution,

and Vigilance.

Another Thing which suspends the Operations of Benevolence, is the Love

of the World; proceeding from a false Notion Men have taken up, that an

Abundance of the World is an essential Ingredient into the Happiness of

Life. Worldly Things are of such a Quality as to lessen upon dividing,

so that the more Partners there are, the less must fall to every Man's

private Share. The Consequence of this is, that they look upon one

another with an evil Eye, each imagining all the rest to be embarked in

an Interest, that cannot take Place but to his Prejudice. Hence are

those eager Competitions for Wealth or Power; hence one Man's Success

becomes another's Disappointment; and, like Pretenders to the same

Mistress, they can seldom have common Charity for their Rivals. Not that

they are naturally disposed to quarrel and fall out, but 'tis natural

for a Man to prefer himself to all others, and to secure his own

Interest first. If that which Men esteem their Happiness were like the

Light, the same sufficient and unconfined Good, whether Ten Thousand

enjoy the Benefit of it, or but One, we should see Mens Good-will, and

kind Endeavours, would be as universal.

'Homo qui Erranti comiter monstrat Viam,

Quasi Lumen de suo Lumine accendat, facit,

Nihilominus ipsi luceat, cum illi accenderit.'

But, unluckily, Mankind agree in making Choice of Objects, which

inevitably engage them in perpetual Differences. Learn therefore, like a

wise Man, the true Estimate of Things. Desire not more of the World than

is necessary to accommodate you in passing through it; look upon every

thing beyond, not as useless only, but burthensome. Place not your Quiet

in Things, which you cannot have without putting others beside them, and

thereby making them your Enemies; and which, when attain'd, will give

you more Trouble to keep, than Satisfaction in the Enjoyment. Virtue is

a Good of a nobler kind; it grows by Communication, and so little

resembles earthly Riches, that the more Hands it is lodged in, the

greater is every Man's particular Stock. So, by propagating and mingling

their Fires, not only all the Lights of a Branch together cast a more

extensive Brightness, but each single Light burns with a stronger Flame.

And lastly, take this along with you, that if Wealth be an Instrument of

Pleasure, the greatest Pleasure it can put into your Power, is that of

doing Good. 'Tis worth considering, that the Organs of Sense act within

a narrow Compass, and the Appetites will soon say they have enough:

which of the two therefore is the happier Man? He, Who confining all his

Regard to the Gratification of his own Appetites, is capable but of

short Fits of Pleasure? Or the Man, who, reckoning himself a Sharer in

the Satisfactions of others, especially those which come to them by his

Means, enlarges the Sphere of his Happiness?

The last Enemy to Benevolence I shall mention is Uneasiness of any Kind.

A guilty, or a discontented Mind, a Mind ruffled by ill Fortune,

disconcerted by its own Passions, sowered by Neglect, or fretting at

Disappointments, hath not Leisure to attend to the Necessity or

Reasonableness of a Kindness desired, nor a Taste for those Pleasures

which wait on Beneficence, which demand a calm and unpolluted Heart to

relish them. The most miserable of all Beings is the most envious; as,

on the other hand, the most communicative is the happiest. And if you

are in search of the Seat of perfect Love and Friendship, you will not

find it till you come to the Region of the Blessed, where Happiness,

like a refreshing Stream, flows from Heart to Heart in an endless

Circulation, and is preserv'd sweet and untainted by the Motion. 'Tis

old Advice, if you have a Favour to request of any one, to observe the

softest times of Address, when the Soul, in a Flush of good Humour,

takes a Pleasure to shew it self pleased. Persons conscious of their own

integrity, satisfied with themselves, and their Condition, and full of

Confidence in a Supreme Being, and the Hope of Immortality, survey all

about them with a Flow of Good-will. As Trees which like their Soil,

they shoot out in Expressions of Kindness and bend beneath their own

precious Load, to the hand of the Gatherer. Now if the Mind be not thus

easie, 'tis an infallible Sign that it is not in its natural State;

Place the Mind in its right Posture, it will immediately discover its

innate Propension to Beneficence.

[Footnote 1: No. 588.]

* * * * *

No. 602. Monday, October 4, 1714 Budgell.

'--Facit hoc illos Hyacinthos--'

Juv.

The following Letter comes from a Gentleman, who, I find, is very

dilgent in making his Observations, which I think too material not to be

communicated to the Publick.

SIR,

'In order to execute the Office of Love-Casuist to _Great Britain_,

with which I take my self to be invested by your Paper of September 8,

[1] I shall make some further Observations upon the two Sexes in

general, beginning with that which always ought to have the upper

Hand. After having observed with much Curiosity the Accomplishments

which are apt to captivate female Hearts, I find that there is no

Person so irresistable as one who is a Man of Importance, provided it

be in Matters of no Consequence. One who makes himself talked of, tho'

it be for the particular Cock of his Hat, or for prating aloud in the

Boxes at a Play, is in a fair way of being a Favourite. I have known a

young Fellow make his Fortune by knocking down a Constable; and may

venture to say, tho' it may seem a Paradox, that many a Fair One has

died by a Duel in which both the Combatants have survived.

About three Winters ago I took Notice of a young Lady at the Theatre,

who convceived of a Passion for a notorious Rake that headed a Party

of Cat-calls; and am credibly informed, that the Emperor of the

Mohocks married a rich Widow within three Weeks after having rendered

himself formidable in the Cities of _London_ and _Westminster_.

Scowring and breaking Windows have done frequent Execution upon the

Sex; but there is no Sett of these Male Charmers who make their way

more successfully, than those who have gained themselves a Name for

Intrigue, and have ruined the greatest Number of Reputations. There is

a strange Curiosity in the female World to be acquainted with the dear

Man who has been loved by others, and to know what it is that makes

him so agreeable. His Reputation does more than half his Business.

Every one that is ambitious of being a Woman of Fashion, looks out for

Opportunities of being in his Company; so that to use the old Proverb,

When his Name is up he may lie a-Bed.

'I was very sensible of the great Advantage of being a Man of

Importance upon these Occasions on the Day of the King's Entry, when I

was seated in a Balcony behind a Cluster of very pretty Country

Ladies, who had one of these showy Gentlemen in the midst of them. The

first Trick I caught him at was bowing to several Persons of Quality

whom he did not know; nay, he had the Impudence to hem at a Blue

Garter who had a finer Equipage than ordinary, and seemed a little

concerned at the Impertinent Huzzas of the Mob, that hindered his

Friend from taking Notice of him. There was indeed one who pull'd off

his Hat to him, and upon the Ladies asking who it was, he told them,

it was a Foreign Minister that he had been very merry with the Night

before; whereas in Truth, it was the City Common Hunt.

'He was never at a Loss when he was asked any Person's Name, tho' he

seldom knew any one under a Peer. He found Dukes and Earls among the

Aldermen, very good-natured Fellows among the Privy-Counsellors, with

two or three agreeable old Rakes among the Bishops and Judges.

'In short, I collected from his whole Discourse, that he was

acquainted with every Body, and knew no Body. At the same Time, I am

mistaken if he did not that Day make more Advances in the Affections

of his Mistress, who sat near him, than he could have done in half a

Year's Courtship.

'_Ovid_ has finely touched this Method of making Love, which I shall

here give my Reader in Mr. _Dryden's_ Translation.

Page the Eleventh.

'Thus Love in Theatres did first improve,

And Theatres are still the Scene of Love:

Nor shun the Chariots, and the Coursers Race;

The Circus is no inconvenient Place.

Nor Need is there of talking on the Hand,

Nor Nods, nor Sighs, which Lovers understand;

But boldly next the Fair your Seat provide,

Close as you can to hers, and Side by Side:

Pleas'd or unpleas'd, no Matter; crowding sit;

For so the Laws of publick Shows permit.

Then find Occasion to begin Discourse,

Enquire whose Chariot this, and whose that Horse;

To whatsoever Side she is inclin'd,

Suit all your Inclinations to her Mind;

Like what she likes, from thence your Court begin,

And whom she favours, wish that he may win.'

Again, Page the Sixteenth.

'O when will come the Day, by Heav'n design'd,

When thou, the best and fairest of Mankind,

Drawn by white Horses, shall in Triumph ride,

With conquer'd Slaves attending on thy Side;

Slaves, that no longer can be safe in flight,

O glorious Object! O surprizing Sight!

O Day of publick Joy, too good to end in Night!

On such a Day, if thou, and next to thee

Some Beauty sits, the Spectacle to see;

If she enquire the Names of conquer'd Kings,

Of Mountains, Rivers, and their hidden Springs;

Answer to all thou knowest; and, if Need be,

Of Things unknown seem to speak knowingly:

This is_ Euphrates, _crown'd with Reeds; and there

Flows the swift_ Tigris, _with his Sea-green hair,

Invent new Names of Things unknown before;

Call this_ Armenia, _that, the_ Caspian _Shore:

Call this a_ Mede, _and that a_ Parthian _Youth;

Talk probably; no Matter for the Truth.'

[Footnote 1: No. 591]

* * * * *

No. 603. Wednesday, October 6, 1714. Byrom.

'Ducite ab Urbe Domum, mea Carmina, ducite Daphnim.'

Virg.

The following Copy of Verses comes from one of my Correspondents, and

has something in it so Original, that I do not much doubt but it will

divert my Readers [1].

I. My Time, O ye Muses, was happily spent,

When_ Phebe _went with me wherever I went;

Ten thousand sweet Pleasures I felt in my Breast:

Sure never fond Shepherd like_ Colin _was blest!

But now she is gone, and has left me behind,

What a marvellous Change on a sudden I find?

When things were as fine as could possibly be,

I thought 'twas the Spring; but alas! it was she.

II. With such a Companion, to tend a few Sheep,

To rise up and play, or to lye down and sleep:

I was so good-humour'd, so chearful and gay,

My Heart was as light as a Feather all Day.

But now I so cross and so peevish am grown;

So strangely uneasie as ever was known.

My Fair one is gone, and my Joys are all drown'd,

And my Heart--I am sure it weighs more than a Pound.

III. The Fountain that wont to run sweetly along,

And dance to soft Murmurs the Pebbles among,

Thou know'st, little Cupid, if_ Phebe _was there,

'Twas Pleasure to look at, 'twas Musick to hear:

But now she is absent, I walk by its Side,

And still as it murmurs do nothing but chide,

Must you be so chearful, while I go in Pain?

Peace there with your Bubbling, and hear me complain.

IV. When my Lambkins around me would oftentimes play,

And when_ Phebe _and I were as joyful as they,

How pleasant their Sporting, how happy the Time,

When Spring, Love and Beauty were all in their Prime?

But now in their Frolicks when by me they pass,

I fling at their Fleeces an handful of Grass;

Be still then, I cry, for it makes me quite mad,

To see you so merry, while I am so sad.

V. My Dog I was ever well pleased to see

Come wagging his Tail to my Fair one and me;

And_ Phebe _was pleas'd too, and to my Dog said,

Come hither, poor Fellow; and patted his Head.

But now, when he's fawning, I with a sour Look

Cry, Sirrah; and give him a Blow with my Crook:

And I'll give him another; for why should not_ Tray

_Be as dull as his Master, when_ Phebe's _away?

VI. When walking with_ Phebe, _what Sights have I seen?

How fair was the Flower, how fresh was the Green?

What a lovely appearance the Trees and the Shade,

The Corn-fields and Hedges, and ev'ry thing made?

But now she has left me, tho' all are still there,

They none of 'em now so delightful appear:

'Twas nought but the Magick, I find, of her Eyes,

Made so many beautiful Prospects arise.

VII. Sweet Musick went with us both all the Wood thro',

The Lark, Linnet, Throstle, and Nightingale too;

Winds over us whisper'd, Flocks by us did bleat,

And chirp went the Grasshopper under our Feet.

But now she is absent, tho' still they sing on,

The Woods are but lonely, the Melody's gone:

Her Voice in the Consort, as now I have found,

Gave ev'ry thing else its agreeable Sound.

VIII. Rose, what is become of thy delicate Hue?

And where is the Violet's beautiful Blue?

Does ought of its Sweetness the Blossom beguile,

That Meadow, those Dasies, why do they not smile?

Ah! Rivals, I see what it was that you drest

And made your selves fine for; a Place in her Breast:

You put on your Colours to pleasure her Eye,

To be pluckt by her Hand, on her Bosom to die.

IX. How slowly Time creeps, till my_ Phebe _return!

While amidst the soft Zephyr's cold Breezes I burn;

Methinks if I knew whereabouts he would tread,

I could breathe on his Wings, and 'twould melt down the Lead.

Fly swifter, ye Minutes, bring hither my Dear,

And rest so much longer for't when she is here.

Ah_ Colin! _old Time is full of Delay,

Nor will budge one Foot faster for all thou canst say.

X. Will no pitying Power that hears me complain,

Or cure my Disquiet, or soften my Pain?

To be cur'd, thou must_, Colin, _thy Passion remove;

But what Swain is so silly to live without Love?

No, Deity, bid the dear Nymph to return,

For ne'er was poor Shepherd so sadly forlorn.

Ah! What shall I do? I shall die with Despair;

Take heed, all ye Swains, how ye love one so fair.

[Footnote 1: It is said that John Byrom wrote these verses in honour of

Joanna, daughter of his friend, Dr. Richard Bentley, Master of Trinity.]

* * * * *

No. 604. Friday, October 8, 1714.

'Tu ne quæsieris (scire nefas) quem mihi, quem tibi,

Finem Dii dederint, Leuconoe; nec Babylonios

Tentaris numeros--'

Hor.

The Desire of knowing future Events is one of the strongest Inclinations

in the Mind of Man. Indeed an Ability of foreseeing probable Accidents

is what, in the Language of Men, is called Wisdom and Prudence: But, not

satisfied with the Light that Reason holds out, Mankind hath endeavoured

to penetrate more compendiously into Futurity. Magick, Oracles, Omens,

lucky Hours, and the various Arts of Superstition, owe their Rise to

this powerful Cause. As this Principle is founded in Self-Love, every

Man is sure to be sollicitous in the first Place about his own Fortune,

the Course of his Life, and the Time and Manner of his Death.

If we consider that we are free Agents, we shall discover the Absurdity

of Enquiries. One of our Actions, which we might have performed or

neglected, is the Cause of another that succeeds it, and so the whole

Chain of Life is link'd together. Pain, Poverty, or Infamy, are the

natural Product of vicious and imprudent Acts; as the contrary Blessings

are of good ones; so that we cannot suppose our Lot to be determined

without Impiety. A great Enhancement of Pleasure arises from its being

unexpected; and Pain is doubled by being foreseen. Upon all these, and

several other Accounts, we ought to rest satisfied in this Portion

bestowed on us; to adore the Hand that hath fitted every Thing to our

Nature, and hath not more display'd his Goodness in our Knowledge than

in our Ignorance.

It is not unworthy Observation, that superstitious Enquiries into future

Events prevail more or less, in proportion to the Improvement of liberal

Arts and useful Knowledge in the several Parts of the World. Accordingly

we find, that magical Incantations remain in _Lapland_, in the more

remote Parts of _Scotland_ they have their second Sight, and several of

our own Countrymen see abundance of Fairies. In _Asia_ this Credulity is

strong; and the greatest Part of refined Learning there consists in the

Knowledge of Amulets, Talismans, occult Numbers, and the like.

While I was at _Grand Cairo_, I fell into the Acquaintance of a

good-natured Mussulman, who promised me many good Offices, which he

designed to do me when he became the Prime Minister, which was a Fortune

bestowed on his Imagination by a Doctor very deep in the curious

Sciences. At his repeated Sollicitations I went to learn my Destiny of

this wonderful Sage. For a small Sum I had his Promise, but was requir'd

to wait in a dark Apartment till he had run thro' the preparatory

Ceremonies. Having a strong Propensity, even then, to Dreaming, I took a

Nap upon the Sofa where I was placed, and had the following Vision, the

Particulars whereof I picked up the other Day among my Papers.

I found my self in an unbounded Plain, where methought the whole World,

in several Habits and with different Tongues, was assembled. The

Multitude glided swiftly along, and I found in my self a strong

Inclination to mingle in the Train. My Eyes quickly singled out some of

the most splendid Figures. Several in rich Caftans and glittering

Turbans bustled through the Throng, and trampled over the Bodies of

those they threw down; till to my great Surprize I found that the great

Pace they went only hastened them to a Scaffold or a Bowstring. Many

beautiful Damsels on the other Side moved forward with great Gaiety;

some danced till they fell all along; and others painted their Faces

till they lost their Noses. A Tribe of Creatures with busie Looks

falling into a Fit of Laughter at the Misfortunes of the unhappy Ladies,

I turn'd my Eyes upon them. They were each of them filling his Pockets

with Gold and Jewels, and when there was no Room left for more, these

Wretches looking round with Fear and Horror, pined away before my Face

with Famine and Discontent.

This Prospect of human Misery struck me dumb for some Miles. Then it was

that, to disburthen my Mind, I took Pen and Ink, and did every Thing

that hath since happen'd under my Office of SPECTATOR. While I was

employing my self for the Good of Mankind, I was surpriz'd to meet with

very unsuitable Returns from my Fellow-Creatures. Never was poor Author

so beset with Pamphleteers, who sometimes marched directly against me,

but oftner shot at me from strong Bulwarks, or rose up suddenly in

Ambush. They were of all Characters and Capacities, some with Ensigns of

Dignity, and others in Liveries; but what most surpriz'd me, was to see

two or three in black Gowns among my Enemies. It was no small Trouble to

me, sometimes to have a Man come up to me with an angry Face, and

reproach me for having lampooned him, when I had never seen or heard of

him in my Life. With the Ladies it was otherwise: Many became my Enemies

for not being particularly pointed out; as there were others who

resented the Satyr which they imagined I had directed against them. My

great Comfort was in the Company of half a Dozen Friends, who, I found

since, were the Club which I have so often mentioned in my Papers. I

laughed often at _Sir Roger_ in my Sleep, and was the more diverted with

_Will Honeycomb's_ Gallantries, (when we afterwards became acquainted)

because I had foreseen his Marriage with a Farmer's Daughter. The Regret

which arose in my Mind upon the Death of my Companions, my Anxieties for

the Publick, and the many Calamities still fleeting before my Eyes, made

me repent my Curiosity; when the Magician entered the Room, and awakened

me, by telling me (when it was too late) that he was just going to

begin.

_N. B._ I have only deliver'd the Prophecy of that Part of my Life which

is past, it being inconvenient to divulge the second Part 'till a more

proper Opportunity.

* * * * *

No. 605. Monday, October 11, 1714. Budgell.

'Exuerint sylvestrem animum, cultuque frequenti

In quascunque voces artes, haud tarda sequentur.'

Virg.

Having perused the following Letter, and finding it to run upon the

Subject of Love, I referred it to the Learned _Casuist_, whom I have

retained in my Service for Speculations of that Kind. He return'd it to

me the next Morning with his Report annexed to it, with both of which I

shall here present my Reader.

_Mr._ SPECTATOR,

'Finding that you have Entertained an useful Person in your Service in

quality of _Love-Casuist_, [1] I apply my self to you, under a very

great Difficulty, that hath for some Months perplexed me. I have a

Couple of humble Servants, one of which I have no Aversion to; the

other I think of very kindly. The first hath the Reputation of a Man

of good Sense, and is one of those People that your Sex are apt to

Value. My Spark is reckoned a Coxcomb among the Men, but is a

Favourite of the Ladies. If I marry the Man of Worth, as they call

him, I shall oblige my Parents and improve my Fortune; but with my

dear Beau I promise my self Happiness, altho' not a Jointure. Now I

would ask you, whether I should consent to lead my Life with a Man

that I have only no Objection to, or with him against whom all

Objections to me appear frivolous. I am determined to follow the

_Casuist's_ Advice, and I dare say he will not put me upon so serious

a thing as Matrimony, contrary to my Inclination.'

I am, &c.

_Fanny Fickle_.

_P.S._ 'I forgot to tell you, that the pretty Gentleman is the most

complaisant Creature in the World, and is always of my Mind; but the

other, forsooth, fancies he hath as much Wit as my self, slights my

Lap-Dog, and hath the Insolence to contradict me when he thinks I am

not in the Right. About half an Hour ago, he maintained to my Face,

that a Patch always implies a Pimple.'

As I look upon it to be my Duty rather to side with the Parents than the

Daughter, I shall propose some Considerations to my Gentle Querist,

which may encline her to comply with those, under whose Direction she

is: And at the same time, convince her, that it is not impossible but

she may, in time, have a true Affection for him who is, at present,

indifferent to her: Or, to use the old Family Maxim, that _If she

marries first, Love will come after_.

The only Objection, that she seems to insinuate against the Gentleman

proposed to her, is his want of Complaisance, which, I perceive, she is

very willing to return. Now, I can discover from this very Circumstance,

that she and her Lover, whatever they may think of it, are very good

Friends in their Hearts. It is difficult to determine, whether Love

delights more in giving Pleasure or Pain. Let Miss _Fickle_ ask her own

Heart, if she doth not take a Secret Pride in making this Man of good

Sense look very silly. Hath she ever been better pleas'd, than when her

Behaviour hath made her Lover ready to hang himself? Or doth she ever

rejoice more, than when she thinks she hath driven him to the very Brink

of a purling Stream? Let her consider, at the same time, that it is not

impossible but her Lover may have discovered her Tricks, and hath a Mind

to give her as good as she brings. I remember a handsome young Baggage

that treated a hopeful _Greek_ of my Acquaintance, just come from

_Oxford_, as if he had been a _Barbarian_. The first Week, after she had

fixed him, she took a Pinch of Snuff out of his Rival's Box, and

apparently touched the Enemy's little Finger. She became a profest Enemy

to the Arts and Sciences, and scarce ever wrote a Letter to him without

wilfully mis-spelling his Name. The young Scholar, to be even with her,

railed at _Coquettes_ as soon as he had got the Word; and did not want

Parts to turn into Ridicule her Men of Wit and Pleasure of the Town.

After having irritated one another for the Space of five Months, she

made an Assignation with him fourscore Miles from _London_. But as he

was very well acquainted with her Pranks, he took a Journey the quite

contrary Way. Accordingly they met, quarrell'd, and in a few Days were

Married. Their former Hostilities are now the Subject of their Mirth,

being content at present with that Part of Love only which bestows

Pleasure.

Women, who have been married some time, not having it in their Heads to

draw after them a numerous Train of Followers, find their Satisfaction

in the Possession of one Man's Heart. I know very well, that Ladies in

their Bloom desire to be excused in this Particular. But when Time hath

worn out their natural Vanity and taught them Discretion, their Fondness

settles on its proper Object. And it is probably for this Reason, that

among Husbands, you will find more that are fond of Women beyond their

Prime, than of those who are actually in the Insolence of Beauty. My

Reader will apply the same Observation to the other Sex.

I need not insist upon the Necessity of their pursuing one common

Interest, and their united Care, for their Children; but shall only

observe, by the Way, that married Persons are both more warm in their

Love, and more hearty in their Hatred, than any others whatsoever.

Mutual Favours and Obligations, which may be supposed to be greater here

than in any other State, naturally beget an Intense Affection in

generous Minds. As, on the contrary, Persons who have bestowed such

Favours, have a particular Bitterness in their Resentments, when they

think themselves ill treated by those of whom they have deserved so

much.

Besides, Miss _Fickle_ may consider, that as there are often many Faults

conceal'd before Marriage, so there are sometimes many Virtues

unobserv'd.

To this we may add the great Efficacy of Custom, and constant

Conversation, to produce a mutual Friendship and Benevolence in two

Persons. It is a nice Reflection, which I have heard a Friend of mine

make, that you may be sure a Woman loves a Man, when she uses his

Expressions, tells his Stories, or imitates his Manner. This gives a

secret Delight; for Imitation is a kind of artless Flattery, and

mightily favours the powerful Principle of Self-love. It is certain,

that married Persons, who are possest with a mutual Esteem, not only

catch the Air and way of Talk from one another, but fall into the same

Traces of thinking and liking. Nay, some have carried the Remark so far

as to assert, that the Features of Man and Wife grow, in time, to

resemble one another. Let my fair Correspondent therefore consider, that

the Gentleman recommended will have a good deal of her own Face in two

or three Years; which she must not expect from the Beau, who is too full

of his dear self to copy after another. And I dare appeal to her own

Judgment, if that Person will not be the handsomest, that is the most

like her self.

We have a remarkable Instance to our present Purpose in the History of

King _Edgar_, which I shall here relate, and leave it with my fair

Correspondent to be applied to her self.

This great Monarch, who is so famous in _British_ Story, fell in Love,

as he made his Progress through his Kingdom, with a certain Duke's

Daughter who lived near _Winchester_, and was the most celebrated Beauty

of the Age. His Importunities and the Violence of his Passion were so

great, that the Mother of the young Lady promised him to bring her

Daughter to his Bed the next Night, though in her Heart she abhorr'd so

infamous an Office. It was no sooner dark than she convey'd into his

Room a young Maid of no disagreeable Figure, who was one of her

Attendants, and did not want Address to improve the Opportunity for the

Advancement of her Fortune. She made so good use of her Time, that when

she offered to rise a little before Day, the King could by no means

think of parting with her. So that finding herself under a Necessity of

discovering who she was, she did it in so handsome a Manner, that his

Majesty was exceeding gracious to her, and took her ever after under his

Protection; insomuch that our Chronicles tell us he carried her along

with him, made her his first Minister of State, and continued true to

her alone, 'till his Marriage with the beautiful _Elfrida_.

[Footnote 1: See Nos. 591, 602, 614, 623, 625.]

* * * * *

No. 606. Wednesday, October 13, 1714.

'--longum cantu solata laborem

Arguto Conjux percurrit pectine Telas.'

Virg.

_Mr._ SPECTATOR,

'I have a couple of Nieces under my Direction, who so often run

gadding abroad, that I don't know where to have them. Their Dress,

their Tea, and their Visits take up all their Time, and they go to Bed

as tired with doing nothing, as I am after quilting a whole

Under-Petticoat. The only time they are not idle, is while they read

your SPECTATORS; which being dedicated to the Interests of Virtue, I

desire you to recommend the long neglected Art of Needle-work. Those

Hours which in this Age are thrown away in Dress, Play, Visits, and

the like, were employ'd, in my time, in writing out Receipts, or

working Beds, Chairs, and Hangings for the Family. For my Part, I have

ply'd my Needle these fifty Years, and by my good Will would never

have it out of my Hand. It grieves my Heart to see a couple of proud

idle Flirts sipping their Tea, for a whole Afternoon, in a Room hung

round with the Industry of their Great Grandmother. Pray, Sir, take

the laudable Mystery of Embroidery into your serious Consideration,

and as you have a great deal of the Virtue of the last Age in you,

continue your Endeavours to reform the present.'

_I am_, &c.

In Obedience to the Commands of my venerable Correspondent, I have duly

weigh'd this important Subject, and promise my self, from the Arguments

here laid down, that all the fine Ladies of _England_ will be ready, as

soon as their Mourning is over, [1] to appear covered with the Work of

their own Hands.

What a delightful Entertainment must it be to the Fair Sex, whom their

native Modesty, and the Tenderness of Men towards them, exempts from

Publick Business, to pass their Hours in imitating Fruits and Flowers,

and transplanting all the Beauties of Nature into their own Dress, or

raising a new Creation in their Closets and Apartments. How pleasing is

the Amusement of walking among the Shades and Groves planted by

themselves, in surveying Heroes slain by their Needle, or little Cupids

which they have brought into the World without Pain!

This is, methinks, the most proper way wherein a Lady can shew a fine

Genius, and I cannot forbear wishing, that several Writers of that Sex

had chosen to apply themselves rather to Tapestry than Rhime. Your

Pastoral Poetesses may vent their Fancy in Rural Landskips, and place

despairing Shepherds under silken Willows, or drown them in a Stream of

Mohair. The Heroick Writers may work up Battles as successfully, and

inflame them with Gold or stain them with Crimson. Even those who have

only a Turn to a Song or an Epigram, may put many valuable Stitches into

a Purse, and crowd a thousand Graces into a Pair of Garters.

If I may, without breach of good Manners, imagine that any pretty

Creature is void of Genius, and would perform her Part herein but very

awkardly, I must nevertheless insist upon her working, if it be only to

keep her out of Harm's way.

Another Argument for busying good Women in Works of Fancy, is, because

it takes them off from Scandal, the usual Attendant of Tea-Tables, and

all other unactive Scenes of Life. While they are forming their Birds

and Beasts, their Neighbours will be allowed to be the Fathers of their

own Children: And _Whig_ and _Tory_ will be but seldom mentioned, where

the great Dispute is, whether Blue or Red is the more proper Colour. How

much greater Glory would _Sophronia_ do the General, if she would chuse

rather to work the Battle of _Blenheim_ in Tapestry, than signalize her

self with so much Vehemence against those who are _Frenchmen_ in their

Hearts.

A Third Reason that I shall mention, is the Profit that is brought to

the Family where these pretty Arts are encouraged. It is manifest that

this way of Life not only keeps fair Ladies from running out into

Expences, but is at the same time an actual Improvement. How memorable

would that Matron be, who should have it Inscribed upon her Monument,

'that she Wrought out the whole Bible in Tapestry, and died in a good

old Age, after having covered three hundred Yards of Wall in the

Mansion-House.'

The Premises being consider'd, I humbly submit the following Proposals

to all Mothers in _Great Britain_.

I. That no young Virgin whatsoever be allow'd to receive the Addresses

of her first Lover, but in a Suit of her own Embroidering.

II. That before every fresh Servant, she be oblig'd to appear with a

new Stomacher at the least.

III. That no one be actually married, till she hath the Child-bed

Pillows, &c. ready Stitched, as likewise the Mantle for the Boy quite

finished.

These Laws, if I mistake not, would effectually restore the decay'd Art

of Needle-work, and make the Virgins of _Great Britain_ exceedingly

Nimble-finger'd in their Business.

There is a memorable Custom of the _Grecian_ Ladies in this particular,

preserv'd in _Homer_, which I hope will have a very good Effect with my

Country-women. A Widow in Ancient Times could not, without Indecency,

receive a second Husband, till she had Woven a Shrowd for her deceased

Lord, or the next of Kin to him. Accordingly, the Chaste _Penelope_

having, as she thought, lost _Ulysses_ at Sea, she employed her time in

preparing a Winding-sheet for _Laertes_, the Father of her Husband. The

Story of her Web being very Famous, and yet not sufficiently known in

its several Circumstances, I shall give it to my Reader, as _Homer_

makes one of her Wooers relate it.

'Sweet Hope she gave to every Youth apart,

With well-taught Looks, and a deceitful Heart:

A Web she wove of many a slender Twine,

Of curious Texture, and perplext Design;

My Youths, she cry'd, my Lord but newly dead,

Forbear a while to court my widow'd Bed,

'Till I have wov'n, as solemn Vows require,

This Web, a Shrowd for poor_ Ulysses' _Sire.

His Limbs, when Fate the Hero's Soul demands,

Shall claim this Labour of his Daughter's Hands:

Lest all the Dames of Greece my Name despise,

While the great King without a Covering lies.

Thus she. Nor did my Friends mistrust the Guile.

All Day she sped the long laborious Toil:

But when the burning Lamps supply'd the Sun,

Each Night unravell'd what the Day begun.

Three live-long Summers did the Fraud prevail.

The Fourth her Maidens told th' amazing Tale.

These Eyes beheld, as close I took my Stand,

The backward Labours of her faithless Hand:

'Till watch'd at length, and press'd on every Side,

Her Task she ended, and commenc'd a Bride.'

[Footnote 1: Public Mourning for Q. Anne, who died Aug. 1, 1714.]

* * * * *

No. 607. Friday, October 15, 1714.

'Dicite Iö Pæan, et Iö bis dicite Pæan:

Decidit in casses præda petita meos.'

Ovid.

_Mr._ SPECTATOR,

'Having in your Paper of _Monday_ last [1] published my Report on the

Case of Mrs. _Fanny Fickle_, wherein I have taken Notice, that Love

comes after Marriage; I hope your Readers are satisfied of this Truth,

that as Love generally produces Matrimony, so it often happens that

Matrimony produces Love.

'It perhaps requires more Virtues to make a good Husband or Wife, than

what go the finishing any the most shining Character whatsoever.

'Discretion seems absolutely necessary, and accordingly we find that

the best Husbands have been most famous for their Wisdom. _Homer_, who

hath drawn a perfect Pattern of a prudent Man, to make it the more

compleat, hath celebrated him for the just Returns of Fidelity and

Truth to his _Penelope_; insomuch that he refused the Caresses of a

Goddess for her sake, and to use the Expression of the best of Pagan

Authors, _vetulam suam prætulit Immortalitati_, his old Woman was

dearer to him than Immortality.

'Virtue is the next necessary Qualification for this domestick

Character, as it naturally produces Constancy and mutual Esteem. Thus

_Brutus_ and _Porcia_ were more remarkable for Virtue and Affection

than any others of the Age in which they lived.

'Good-Nature is a third necessary Ingredient in the Marriage-State,

without which it would inevitably sower upon a thousand Occasions.

When Greatness of Mind is joined with this amiable Quality, it

attracts the Admiration and Esteem of all who behold it. Thus _Cæsar_,

not more remarkable for his Fortune and Valour than for his Humanity,

stole into the Hearts of the _Roman_ People, when breaking through the

Custom, he pronounced an Oration at the Funeral of his first and best

beloved Wife.

'Good-Nature is insufficient, unless it be steady and uniform, and

accompanied with an Evenness of Temper, which is, above all things, to

be preserved in this Friendship contracted for Life. A Man must be

easie within himself, before he can be so to his other self.

_Socrates_, and _Marcus Aurelius_, are Instances of Men, who, by the

Strength of Philosophy, having entirely composed their Minds, and

subdued their Passions, are celebrated for good Husbands,

notwithstanding the first was yoked with _Xantippe_, and the other

with _Faustina_. If the wedded Pair would but habituate themselves for

the first Year to bear with one another's Faults, the Difficulty would

be pretty well conquer'd. This mutual Sweetness of Temper and

Complacency, was finely recommended in the Nuptial Ceremonies among

the Heathens, who, when they sacrificed to _Juno_ at that Solemnity,

always tore out the Gaul from the Entrails of the Victim, and cast it

behind the Altar.

'I shall conclude this Letter with a Passage out of Dr. _Plot's

Natural History of Staffordshire_, not only as it will serve to fill

up your present Paper; but if I find my self in the Humour, may give

Rise to another; I having by me an old Register, belonging to the

Place here under-mentioned.'

Sir _Philip de Somervile_ held the Manors of _Whichenovre,

Scirescot, Ridware, Netherton_, and _Cowlee_, all in _Com.

Stafford_, of the Earls of _Lancaster_, by this memorable Service.

The said Sir _Philip_ shall find, maintain, and sustain, one _Bacon

Flitch_, hanging in his Hall at _Whichenovre_ ready arrayed all

times of the Year, but in _Lent_, to be given to every Man or Woman

married, after the Day and the Year of their Marriage be past, in

Form following.

Whensoever that any one such before named will come to enquire for

the Bacon, in their own Person, they shall come to the Bailiff, or

to the Porter of the Lordship of _Whichenovre_, and shall say to

them in the manner as ensueth;

'Bayliff, or Porter, I doo you to know, that I am come for my self,

to demand one _Bacon Flyke_ hanging in the Hall of the Lord of

_Whichenovre_, after the Form thereunto belonging.'

After which Relation, the Bayliff or Porter shall assign a Day to

him, upon Promise by his Faith to return, and with him to bring

Twain of his Neighbours. And in the mean Time the said Bailiff shall

take with him Twain of the Freeholders of the Lordship of

_Whichenovre_, and they three shall go to the Manor of _Rudlow_,

belonging to _Robert Knightleye_, and there shall summon the

aforesaid _Knightleye_, or his Bayliff, commanding him to be ready

at _Whichenovre_ the Day appointed, at Prime of Day, with his

Carriage, that is to say, a Horse and a Saddle, a Sack and a Pryke,

for to convey the said Bacon and Corn a Journey out of the County of

_Stafford_, at his Costages. And then the said Bailiff shall, with

the said Freeholders, summon all the Tenants of the said Manor, to

be ready at the Day appointed, at _Whichenovre_, for to do and

perform the Services which they owe to the Bacon. And at the Day

assigned, all such as owe Services to the Bacon, shall be ready at

the Gate of the Manor of _Whichenovre_, from the Sun-rising to Noon,

attending and awaiting for the coming of him who fetcheth the Bacon.

And when he is come, there shall be delivered to him and his

Fellows, Chapelets; and to all those which shall be there, to do

their Services due to the Bacon. And they shall lead the said

Demandant with Trumps and Tabours, and other manner of Minstrels to

the Hall-Door, where he shall find the Lord of _Whichenovre_, or his

Steward, ready to deliver the Bacon in this Manner.

He shall enquire of him, which demandeth the Bacon, if he have

brought twain of his Neighbours with him: Which must answer, _They

be here ready_. And then the Steward shall cause these two

Neighbours to swear, if the said Demandant be a wedded Man, or have

been a Man wedded; and if since his Marriage one Year and a Day be

past; and if he be a Free-man, or a Villain. And if his said

Neighbours make Oath, that he hath for him all these three Points

rehearsed; then shall the Bacon be taken down and brought to the

Hall-Door, and shall there be laid upon one half Quarter of Wheat,

and upon one other of Rye. And he that demandeth the Bacon shall

kneel upon his Knee, and shall hold his right Hand upon a Book,

which Book shall be laid upon the Bacon and the Corn, and shall make

Oath in this manner.

'Here ye, Sir _Philip_ de _Somervile_, Lord of _Whichenovre_,

mayntener and gyver of this Baconne: That I _A_ sithe I Wedded _B_

my Wife, and sithe I had hyr in my kepyng, and at my Wylle, by a

Year and a Day after our Marriage, I would not have chaunged for

none other; farer ne fowler; richer, ne pourer; ne for none other

descended of greater Lynage; slepyng ne wakyng, at noo tyme. And if

the seyd _B_ were sole and I sole I would take her to be my Wife

before all the Wymen of the Worlde, of what condiciones soever they

be: good or evylle, as help me God ond his Seyntes, and this Flesh

and all Fleshes.'

And his Neighbours shall make Oath, that they trust verily he hath

said truly. And if it be found by his Neighbours before-named that

he be a Free-man, there shall be delivered to him half a Quarter of

Wheat and a Cheese; and if he be a Villain, he shall have half a

Quarter of Rye without Cheese. And then shall _Knightleye_ the Lord

of _Rudlow_ be called for, to carry all these Things tofore

rehearsed; and the said Corn shall be laid on one Horse and the

Bacon above it: and he to whom the Bacon appertaineth shall ascend

upon his Horse; and shall take the Cheese before him if he have a

Horse. And if he have none, the Lord of _Whichenovre_ shall cause

him to have one Horse and Saddle, to such time as he be past his

Lordship: and so shall they depart the Manor of _Whichenovre_ with

the Corn and the Bacon, tofore him that hath won it, with Trumpets,

Tabourets, and other manner of Minstrelsie. And all the Free Tenants

of _Whichenovre_ shall Conduct him to be passed the Lordship of

_Whichenovre_. And then shall they all return; except him, to whom

appertained to make the Carriage and Journey without the County of

_Stafford_, at the Costs of his Lord of _Whichenovre_.

* * * * *

No. 608. Monday, October 18, 1714. Addison. [1]

'--Perjuria ridet Amantum--'

Ovid.

_Mr._ SPECTATOR,

'According to my Promise, I herewith transmit to you a List of several

Persons, who from time to time demanded the _Flitch of Bacon_ of Sir

_Philip de Somervile_ and his Descendants; as it is preserved in an

ancient Manuscript under the Title of _The Register of

Whichenovre-Hall, and of the Bacon Flitch there maintained_.

'In the Beginning of this Record is recited the Law or Institution in

Form, as it is already printed in your last Paper: To which are added

Two By-Laws, as a Comment upon the General Law, the Substance whereof

is, that the Wife shall take the same Oath as the Husband, _mutatis

mutandis_; and that the Judges shall, as they think meet, interrogate

or cross-examine the Witnesses. After this proceeds the Register in

Manner following.

'Aubry de Falstaff, _Son of Sir_ John Falstaff, _Kt. with Dame_ Maude

_his Wife, were the first that demanded the Bacon, he having bribed

twain of his Father's Companions to swear falsly in his Behoof whereby

he gained the Flitch: But he and his said Wife falling immediately

into a Dispute how the said Bacon should be dressed, it was by Order

of the Judges taken from him, and hung up again in the Hall._

'Alison _the Wife of_ Stephen Freckle, _brought her said Husband along

with her, and set forth the good Conditions and Behaviour of her

Consort, adding withal that she doubted not but he was ready to attest

the like of her, his Wife; whereupon he, the said_ Stephen, _shaking

his Head, she turned short upon him, and gave him a Box on the Ear_.

'Philip de Waverland, _having laid his Hand upon the Book, when the

Clause_, Were I sole and she sole, _was rehearsed, found a secret

Compunction rising in his Mind, and stole it off again_.

'Richard de Loveless, _who was a Courtier, and a very wellbred Man,

being observed to hesitate at the Words_ after our Marriage, _was

thereupon required to explain himself. He reply'd, by talking very

largely of his exact Complaisance while he was a Lover; and alledg'd,

that he had not in the least disobliged his Wife for a Year and a Day_

before _Marriage, which he hoped was the same Thing_.

'Rejected.

'Joceline Jolly, _Esq., making it appear by unquestionable Testimony,

That he and his Wife had presented full and entire Affection for the

Space of the first Month, commonly called the_ Honey-Moon; _he had in

Consideration thereof one Rasher bestowed upon him_.

'After this, says the Record, many Years passed over before any

Demandant appeared at _Whichenovre-Hall_; insomuch that one would have

thought that the whole Country were turned _Jews_, so little was their

Affection to the Flitch of Bacon.

'The next Couple enrolled had like to have carried it, if one of the

Witnesses had not deposed, That dining on a _Sunday_ with the

Demandant, whose Wife had sate below the Squire's Lady at Church, she

the said Wife dropped some Expressions, as if she thought her Husband

deserved to be knighted; to which he returned a passionate _Pish_! The

Judges taking the Premises into Consideration, declared the aforesaid

Behaviour to imply an unwarrantable Ambition in the Wife, and Anger in

the Husband.

'It is recorded as a sufficient Disqualification of a certain Wife,

that speaking of her Husband, she said, _God forgive him_.

'It is likewise remarkable, that a Couple were rejected upon the

Deposition of one of their Neighbours, that the Lady had once told her

Husband, that _it was her Duty to obey_; to which he replied, _Oh! my

Dear, you are never in the wrong_.

'The violent Passion of one Lady for her Lap-Dog; the turning away of

the old House-Maid by another; a Tavern-Bill torn by the Wife, and a

Taylor's by the Husband; a Quarrel about the Kissing-Crust; spoiling

of Dinners, and coming in late of Nights; are so many several Articles

which occasioned the Reprobation of some Scores of Demandants, whose

Names are recorded in the aforesaid Register.

'Without enumerating other particular Persons, I shall content my self

with observing, that the Sentence pronounced against one _Gervase

Poacher_ is, that _he might have had Bacon to his Eggs, if he had not

heretofore scolded his Wife when they were over boiled_. And the

Deposition against _Dorothy Dolittle_ runs in these Words; _That she

had so far usuped the Dominion of the Coalfire, (the Stirring whereof

her Husband claimed to himself) that by her good Will she never would

suffer the Poker out of her Hand._

'I find but two Couples, in this first Century, that were successful:

The first, was a Sea-Captain and his Wife, who since the Day of their

Marriage, had not seen one another till the Day of the Claim. The

Second, was an honest Pair in the Neighbourhood; The Husband was a Man

of plain good Sense, and a peaceable Temper; the Woman was dumb.'

[Footnote 1: Lord Macaulay, in a letter published p. 1433 ... of Mr.

Bohn's edition of Lowndes's 'Bibliographer's Manual', calls this paper

'undoubtedly Addison's, and one of his best,' although not claimed,

because he could not own it without admitting what Lord Macaulay rightly

considered quite as obvious, his authorship of No. 623. Addison wrote,

evidently, some other of these unappropriated papers.]

* * * * *

No. 609. Wednesday, October 20, 1714.

'--Farrago libelli--'

Juv.

_Mr._ SPECTATOR,

'I have for some Time desired to appear in your Paper, and have

therefore chosen a Day [1] to steal into the SPECTATOR, when I take it

for granted you will not have many spare Minutes for Speculations of

your own. As I was the other Day walking with an honest

Country-Gentleman, he very often was expressing his Astonishment to

see the Town so mightily crowded with Doctors of Divinity: Upon which

I told him he was very much mistaken if he took all those Gentlemen he

saw in Scarfs to be Persons of that Dignity; for, that a young Divine,

after his first Degree in the University, usually comes hither only to

show himself; and on that Occasion is apt to think he is but half

equipp'd with a Gown and Cassock for his publick Appearance, if he

hath not the additional Ornament of a Scarf of the first Magnitude to

intitle him to the Appellation of Doctor from his Landlady and the Boy

at _Childs_. Now since I know that this Piece of Garniture is looked

upon as a Mark of Vanity or Affectation, as it is made use of among

some of the little spruce Adventurers of the Town, I should be glad if

you would give it a Place among those Extravagancies you have justly

exposed in several of your Papers: being very well assured that the

main Body of the Clergy, both in the Country and the Universities, who

are almost to a Man untainted with it, would be very well pleased to

see this Venerable Foppery well exposed. When my Patron did me the

Honour to take me into his Family, (for I must own my self of this

Order) he was pleased to say he took me as a Friend and Companion; and

whether he looked upon the Scarf like the Lace and Shoulder-knot of a

Footman, as a Badge of Servitude and Dependance, I do not know, but he

was so kind as to leave my wearing of it to my own Discretion; and not

having any just Title to it from my Degrees, I am content to be

without the Ornament. The Privileges of our Nobility to keep a certain

Number of Chaplains are undisputed, though perhaps not one in ten of

those reverend Gentlemen have any Relation to the noble Families their

Scarfs belong to; the Right generally of creating all Chaplains except

the Domestick, where there is one, being nothing more than the

Perquisite of a Steward's Place, who, if he happens to out-live any

considerable Number of his noble Masters, shall probably, at one and

the same Time, have fifty Chaplains, all in their proper

Accoutrements, of his own Creation; though perhaps there hath been

neither Grace nor Prayer said in the Family since the Introduction of

the first Coronet.'

_I am_, &c.

_Mr._ SPECTATOR,