'I wish you would write a Philosophical Paper about Natural

Antipathies, with a Word or two concerning the Strength of

Imagination. I can give you a List upon the first Notice, of a

Rational _China_ Cup, of an Egg that walks upon two Legs, and a Quart

Pot that sings like a Nightingale. There is in my Neighbourhood a very

pretty prattling Shoulder of Veal, that squawls out at the Sight of a

Knife. Then as for Natural Antipathies, I know a General Officer who

was never conquered but by a smother'd Rabbit; and a Wife that

domineers over her Husband by the Help of a Breast of Mutton. A Story

that relates to my self on this Subject may be thought not

unentertaining, especially when I assure you that it is literally

true. I had long made Love to a Lady, in the Possession of whom I am

now the happiest of Mankind, whose Hand I shou'd have gained with much

Difficulty without the Assistance of a Cat. You must know then, that

my most dangerous Rival had so strong an Aversion to this Species,

that he infallibly swooned away at the Sight of that harmless

Creature. My Friend Mrs. _Lucy_, her Maid, having a greater Respect

for me and my Purse than she had for my Rival, always took Care to pin

the Tail of a Cat under the Gown of her Mistress, whenever she knew of

his coming; which had such an Effect, that every Time he entred the

Room, he looked more like one of the Figures in Mrs. _Salmon's_

Wax-work, than a desirable Lover. In short, he grew Sick of her

Company; which the young Lady taking Notice of, (who no more knew why,

than he did) she sent me a Challenge to meet her in _Lincoln's-Inn_

Chappel, which I joyfully accepted, and have (amongst other Pleasures)

the Satisfaction of being praised by her for my Stratagem, I am, &c.'

_From the Hoop_.

Tom. Nimble.

_Mr._ SPECTATOR,

'The Virgins of _Great Britain_ are very much oblig'd to you for

putting them upon such tedious Drudgeries in Needlework as were fit

only for the _Hilpa's_ and the _Nilpa's_ that lived before the Flood.

Here's a stir indeed with your Histories in Embroidery, your Groves

with Shades of Silk and Streams of Mohair! I would have you to know,

that I hope to kill a hundred Lovers before the best Housewife in

_England_ can stitch out a Battel, and do not fear but to provide Boys

and Girls much faster than your Disciples can embroider them. I love

Birds and Beasts as well as you, but am content to fancy them when

they are really made. What do you think of Gilt Leather for Furniture?

There's your pretty Hangings for a Chamber; [2] and what is more, our

own Country is the only Place in _Europe_ where Work of that kind is

tolerably done. Without minding your musty Lessons: I am this Minute

going to _Paul's_ Church-Yard to bespeak a Skreen and a Set of

Hangings; and am resolved to encourage the Manufacture of my Country.'

_Yours_,

CLEORA.

[Footnote 1: Oct. 20, 1714, was the day of the Coronation of George I.]

[Footnote 2: There was at this time a celebrated manufactory of tapestry

at Chelsea.]

* * * * *

No. 610 Friday, October 22, 1714.

'Sic, cum transierint mei

Nullo cum strepitu dies,

Plebeius moriar senex.

Illi mors gravis incubat,

Qui, notus nimis omnibus,

Ignotus moritur sibi.'

Seneca.

I have often wondered that the _Jews_ should contrive such a worthless

Greatness for the Deliverer whom they expected, as to dress him up in

external Pomp and Pageantry, and represent him to their Imagination, as

making Havock amongst his Creatures, and acted with the poor Ambition of

a _Cæsar_ or an _Alexander_. How much more illustrious doth he appear in

his real Character, when considered as the Author of universal

Benevolence among Men, as refining our Passions, exalting our Nature,

giving us vast Ideas of Immortality, and teaching us a Contempt of that

little showy Grandeur, wherein the _Jews_ made the Glory of their

Messiah to consist!

_Nothing_ (says _Longinus_) _can be Great, the Contempt of which is

Great_. The Possession of Wealth and Riches cannot give a Man a Title to

Greatness, because it is looked upon as a Greatness of Mind, to contemn

these Gifts of Fortune, and to be above the Desire of them. I have

therefore been inclined to think, that there are greater Men who lie

concealed among the Species, than those who come out, and draw upon

themselves the Eyes and Admiration of Mankind. _Virgil_ would never have

been heard of, had not his Domestick Misfortunes driven him out of his

Obscurity, and brought him to _Rome_.

If we suppose that there are Spirits or Angels who look into the Ways of

Men, as it is highly probable there are, both from Reason and

Revelation; how different are the Notions which they entertain of us,

from those which we are apt to form of one another? Were they to give us

in their Catalogue of such Worthies as are now living, how different

would it be from that, which any of our own Species would draw up?

We are dazled with the Splendour of Titles, the Ostentation of Learning,

the Noise of Victories; They, on the contrary, see the Philosopher in

the Cottage, who possesses his Soul in Patience and Thankfulness, under

the Pressure of what little Minds call Poverty and Distress. They do not

look for great Men at the Head of Armies, or among the Pomps of a Court,

but often find them out in Shades and Solitudes, in the private Walks

and By-paths of Life. The Evening's Walk of a wise Man is more

illustrious in their Sight, than the March of a General at the Head of a

hundred thousand Men. A Contemplation of God's Works; a voluntary Act of

Justice to our own Detriment; a generous Concern for the Good of

Mankind; Tears that are shed in Silence for the Misery of others; a

private Desire or Resentment broken and subdued; in short, an unfeigned

Exercise of Humility, or any other Virtue; are such Actions as are

glorious in their Sight, and denominate Men great and reputable. The

most famous among us are often looked upon with Pity, with Contempt, or

with Indignation; while those who are most obscure among their own

Species, are regarded with Love, with Approbation and Esteem.

The Moral of the present Speculation amounts to this, That we should not

be led away by the Censures and Applauses of Men, but consider the

Figure that every Person will make, at that Time when Wisdom shall be

justified of her Children, and nothing pass for Great or Illustrious,

which is not an Ornament and Perfection to humane Nature.

The Story of _Gyges_ the rich _Lydian_ Monarch, is a memorable Instance

to our present Purpose. The Oracle being asked by _Gyges_, who was the

happiest Man, replied _Agla¸s_. _Gyges_, who expected to have heard

himself named on this Occasion, was much surprized, and very curious to

know who this _Agla¸s_ should be. After much Enquiry he was found to be

an obscure Countryman, who employ'd all his Time in cultivating a

Garden, and a few Acres of Land about his House.

_Cowley's_ agreeable Relation of this Story shall close this Day's

Speculation.

'Thus_ Agla¸s _(a Man unknown to Men,

But the Gods knew, and therefore lov'd him then)

Thus liv'd obscurely then without a Name,_

Agla¸s, _now consign'd t' eternal Fame.

For _Gyges_, the rich King, wicked and great,

Presum'd at wise_ Apollo's Delphick_ Seat,

Presum'd to ask, Oh thou, the whole World's Eye,

See'st thou a Man that happier is than I?

The God, who scorned to flatter Man, reply'd,

_Agla¸s _happier is. But _Gyges_ cry'd,

In a proud Rage, Who can that_ Agla¸s_ be?

We've heard as yet of no such King as he.

And true it was, through the whole Earth around,

No King of such a Name was to be found.

Is some old _Hero_ of that Name alive,

Who his high Race does from the Gods derive?

Is it some mighty Gen'ral, that has done

Wonders in Fight, and God-like Honours won?

Is it some Man of endless Wealth? said he:

None, none of these; who can this Agla¸s be?

After long Search, and vain Enquiries past,

In an obscure_ Arcadian _Vale at last,

(Th'_ Arcadian _Life has always shady been)

Near_ Sopho's _Town (which he but once had seen)

This_ Agla¸s, _who Monarchs Envy drew,

Whose Happiness the Gods stood Witness to,

This mighty_ Agla¸s _was lab'ring found,

With his own Hands, in his own little Ground.

So, gracious God, (if it may lawful be,

Among those foolish Gods to mention thee)

So let me act, on such a private Stage,

The last dull Scenes of my declining Age;

After long Toils and Voyages in vain,

This quiet Port let my toss'd Vessel gain;

Of heav'nly Rest, this Earnest to me lend,

Let my Life sleep, and learn to love her End.'

* * * * *

No. 611. Monday, October 25, 1714.

'Perfide! sed duris genuit te cautibus horrens

Caucasus, Hircanæque admórunt ubera tigres.'

Virg.

I am willing to postpone every thing, to do any the least Service for

the Deserving and Unfortunate. Accordingly I have caused the following

Letter to be inserted in my Paper the Moment that it came to my Hands,

without altering one Tittle in an Account which the Lady relates so

handsomely her self.

_Mr_. SPECTATOR,

'I flatter my self, you will not only pity, but, if possible, redress

a Misfortune my self and several others of my Sex lie under. I hope

you will not be offended, nor think I mean by this to justifie my own

imprudent Conduct, or expect You should. No! I am sensible how

severely, in some of your former Papers, you have reproved Persons

guilty of the like Mismanagements. I was scarce Sixteen, and, I may

say without Vanity, Handsome, when courted by a false perjured Man;

who, upon Promise of Marriage, rendered me the most unhappy of Women.

After he had deluded me from my Parents, who were People of very good

Fashion, in less than three Months he left me. My Parents would not

see, nor hear from me; and had it not been for a Servant, who had

lived in our Family, I must certainly have perished for want of Bread.

However, it pleased Providence, in a very short time, to alter my

miserable Condition. A Gentleman saw me, liked me, and married me. My

Parents were reconciled; and I might be as happy in the Change of my

Condition, as I was before miserable, but for some things, that you

shall know, which are insupportable to me; and I am sure you have so

much Honour and Compassion as to let those Persons know, in some of

your Papers, how much they are in the wrong. I have been married near

five Years, and do not know that in all that time I ever went abroad

without my Husband's Leave and Approbation. I am obliged, through the

Importunities of several of my Relations, to go abroad oftner than

suits my Temper. Then it is, I labour under insupportable Agonies.

That Man, or rather Monster, haunts every Place I go to. Base Villain!

By reason I will not admit his nauseous wicked Visits and

Appointments, he strives all the ways he can to ruin me. He left me

destitute of Friend or Money, nor ever thought me worth enquiring

after, till he unfortunately happened to see me in a Front Box,

sparkling with Jewels. Then his Passion returned. Then the Hypocrite

pretended to be a Penitent. Then he practised all those Arts that

helped before to undo me. I am not to be deceived a second time by

him. I hate and abhor his odious Passion; and, as he plainly perceives

it, either out of Spight or Diversion, he makes it his Business to

expose me. I never fail seeing him in all publick Company, where he is

always most industriously spightful. He hath, in short, told all his

Acquaintance of our unhappy Affair, they tell theirs; so that it is no

Secret among his Companions, which are numerous. They, to whom he

tells it, think they have a Title to be very familiar. If they bow to

me, and I out of good Manners return it, then I am pester'd with

Freedoms that are no ways agreeable to my self or Company. If I turn

my Eyes from them, or seem displeased, they sower upon it, and whisper

the next Person; he his next; 'till I have at last the Eyes of the

whole Company upon me. Nay, they report abominable Falshoods, under

that mistaken Notion, _She that will grant Favours to one Man, will to

a hundred_. I beg you will let those who are guilty, know, how

ungenerous this way of Proceeding is. I am sure he will know himself

the Person aim'd at, and perhaps put a stop to the Insolence of

others. Cursed is the Fate of unhappy Women! that Men may boast and

glory in those things that we must think of with Shame and Horror! You

have the Art of making such odious Customs appear detestable. For my

Sake, and I am sure, for the Sake of several others, who dare not own

it, but, like me, lie under the same Misfortunes, make it as infamous

for a Man to boast of Favours, or expose our Sex, as it is to take the

Lie or a Box on the Ear, and not resent it.'

_Your Constant Reader,

and Admirer,_

LESBIA.

P. S. 'I am the more Impatient under this Misfortune, having receiv'd

fresh Provocation, last Wednesday, in the Abbey.'

I entirely agree with the amiable and unfortunate _LESBIA_, that an

Insult upon a Woman in her Circumstances, is as infamous in a Man, as a

tame Behaviour when the Lie or a Buffet is given; which Truth, I shall

beg leave of her to illustrate by the following Observation.

It is a Mark of Cowardice passively to forbear resenting an Affront, the

Resenting of which would lead a Man into Danger; it is no less a Sign of

Cowardice to affront a Creature, that hath not Power to avenge it self.

Whatever Name therefore this ungenerous Man may bestow on the helpless

Lady he hath injur'd, I shall not scruple to give him in return for it,

the Appellation of _Coward_.

A Man, that can so far descend from his Dignity, as to strike a Lady,

can never recover his Reputation with either Sex, because no Provocation

is thought strong enough to justifie such Treatment from the Powerful

towards the Weak. In the Circumstances, in which poor _LESBIA_ is

situated, she can appeal to no Man whatsoever to avenge an Insult, more

grievous than a Blow. If she could open her Mouth, the base Man knows,

that a Husband, a Brother, a generous Friend would die to see her

righted.

A generous Mind, however enrag'd against an Enemy, feels its Resentments

sink and vanish away, when the Object of its Wrath falls into its Power.

An estranged Friend, filled with Jealousie and Discontent towards a

Bosom-Acquaintance, is apt to overflow with Tenderness and Remorse, when

a Creature, that was once dear to him, undergoes any Misfortune. What

Name then shall we give to his Ingratitude, (who forgetting the Favours

he sollicited with Eagerness, and receiv'd with Rapture) can insult the

Miseries that he himself caused, and make Sport with the Pain to which

he owes his greatest Pleasure? There is but one Being in the Creation

whose Province it is to practise upon the Imbecillities of frail

Creatures, and triumph in the Woes which his own Artifices brought

about; and we well know, those who follow his Example, will receive his

Reward.

Leaving my fair Correspondent to the Direction of her own Wisdom and

Modesty; and her Enemy, and his mean Accomplices, to the Compunction of

their own Hearts; I shall conclude this Paper with a memorable Instance

of Revenge, taken by a _Spanish_ Lady upon a guilty Lover, which may

serve to show what violent Effects are wrought by the most tender

Passion, when sower'd into Hatred; and may deter the Young and unwary

from unlawful Love. The Story, however Romantick it may appear, I have

heard affirmed for a Truth.

Not many Years ago an _English_ Gentleman, who in a Rencounter by Night

in the Streets of _Madrid_ had the Misfortune to kill his Man, fled into

a Church-Porch for Sanctuary. Leaning against the Door, he was surprized

to find it open, and a glimmering Light in the Church. He had the

Courage to advance towards the Light; but was terribly startled at the

sight of a Woman in White who ascended from a Grave with a bloody Knife

in her Hand. The Phantome marched up to him, and asked him what he did

there. He told her the Truth, without reserve, believing that he had met

a Ghost: Upon which, she spoke to him in the following Manner.

'Stranger, thou art in my Power: I am a Murderer as thou art. Know then,

that I am a Nun of a noble Family. A base perjur'd Man undid me, and

boasted of it. I soon had him dispatched; but not content with the

Murder, I have brib'd the Sexton to let me enter his Grave, and have now

pluck'd out his False Heart from his Body; and thus I use a Traitor's

Heart.' At these Words she tore it in Pieces, and trampled it under her

Feet.

* * * * *

No. 612. Wednesday, October 27, 1714.

'Murranum hic atavos et avorum antiqua sonantem

Nomina per regesque actum genus omne Latinos,

Præcipitem scopulo, atque ingentis turbine saxi

Excutit, effunditque solo.'

Virg.

It is highly laudable to pay Respect to Men who are descended from

worthy Ancestors, not only out of Gratitude to those who have done Good

to Mankind, but as it is an Encouragement to others to follow their

Example. But this is an Honour to be receiv'd, not demanded, by the

Descendants of great Men; and they who are apt to remind us of their

Ancestors, only put us upon making Comparisons to their own

Disadvantage.

There is some Pretence for boasting of Wit, Beauty, Strength or Wealth,

because the Communication of them may give Pleasure or Profit to others;

but we can have no Merit, nor ought we to claim any Respect, because our

Fathers acted well, whether we would or no.

The following Letter ridicules the Folly I have mentioned, in a new,

and, I think, not disagreeable Light.

_Mr._ SPECTATOR,

'Were the Genealogy of every Family preserved, there would probably be

no Man valued or despis'd on Account of his Birth. There is scarce a

Beggar in the Streets, who would not find himself lineally descended

from some great Man; nor any one of the highest Title, who would not

discover several base and indigent Persons among his Ancestors. It

would be a pleasant Entertainment to see one Pedigree of Men appear

together, under the same Characters they bore when they acted their

respective Parts among the Living. Suppose therefore a Gentleman, full

of his illustrious Family, should, in the same manner as _Virgil_

makes _Æneas_ look over his Descendants, see the whole Line of his

Progenitors pass in a Review before his Eyes, and with how many

varying Passions would he behold Shepherds and Soldiers, Statesmen and

Artificers, Princes and Beggars, walk in the Procession of five

thousand Years! How would his Heart sink or flutter at the several

Sports of Fortune in a Scene so diversified with Rags and Purple,

Handicraft Tools and Scepters, Ensigns of Dignity and Emblems of

Disgrace; and how would his Fears and Apprehensions, his Transports

and Mortifications, succeed one another, as the Line of his Genealogy

appear'd bright or obscure?

'In most of the Pedigrees hung up in old Mansion Houses, you are sure

to find the first in the Catalogue a great Statesman, or a Soldier

with an honourable Commission. The Honest Artificer that begot him,

and all his frugal Ancestors before him, are torn off from the Top of

the Register; and you are not left to imagine, that the noble Founder

of the Family ever had a Father. Were we to trace many boasted Lines

farther backwards, we should lose them in a Mob of Tradesmen, or a

Crowd of Rusticks, without hope of seeing them emerge again: Not

unlike the old _Appian_ Way, which after having run many Miles in

Length, loses it self in a Bog.

'I lately made a Visit to an old Country Gentleman, who is very far

gone in this sort of _Family Madness_. I found him in his Study

perusing an old Register of his Family, which he had just then

discover'd, as it was branched out in the Form of a Tree, upon a Skin

of Parchment. Having the Honour to have some of his Blood in my Veins,

he permitted me to cast my Eye over the Boughs of this venerable

Plant; and asked my Advice in the Reforming of some of the superfluous

Branches.

'We passed slightly over three or four of our immediate Fore-fathers,

whom we knew by Tradition, but were soon stopped by an Alderman of

_London_, who, I perceived, made my Kinsman's Heart go pit-a-pat. His

Confusion increased when he found the Alderman's Father to be a

Grasier; but he recovered his Fright upon seeing _Justice of the

Quorum_ at the end of his Titles. Things went on pretty well, as we

threw our Eyes occasionally over the Tree, when unfortunately he

perceived a Merchant-Tailor perched on a Bough, who was said greatly

to have encreased the Estate; he was just a going to cut him off, if

he had not seen _Gent._ after the Name of his Son; who was recorded to

have mortgaged one of the Manors his honest Father had purchased. A

Weaver, who was burnt for his Religion in the Reign of Queen _Mary_,

was pruned away without Mercy; as was likewise a Yeoman, who died of a

Fall from his own Cart. But great was our Triumph in one of the Blood

who was beheaded for High-Treason; which nevertheless was not a little

allayed by another of our Ancestors, who was hanged for stealing

Sheep. The Expectations of my good Cousin were wonderfully raised by a

Match into the Family of a Knight, but unfortunately for us this

Branch proved Barren: On the other hand _Margery_ the Milk-maid being

twined round a Bough, it flourished out into so many Shoots, and bent

with so much Fruit, that the old Gentleman was quite out of

Countenance. To comfort me, under this Disgrace, he singled out a

Branch ten times more fruitful than the other, which, he told me, he

valued more than any in the Tree, and bad me be of good Comfort. This

enormous Bough was a Graft out of a _Welsh_ Heiress, with so many

_Ap's_ upon it that it might have made a little Grove by it self. From

the Trunk of the Pedigree, which was chiefly composed of Labourers and

Shepherds, arose a huge Sprout of Farmers; this was branched out into

Yeomen; and ended in a Sheriff of the County, who was Knighted for his

good Service to the Crown, in bringing up an Address. Several of the

Names that seemed to disparage the Family, being looked upon as

Mistakes, were lopped off as rotten or withered; as, on the contrary,

no small Number appearing without any Titles, my Cousin, to supply the

Defects of the Manuscript, added _Esq_; at the End of each of them.

'This Tree so pruned, dressed, and cultivated, was, within few Days,

transplanted into a large Sheet of Vellum and placed in the great

Hall, where it attracts the Veneration of his Tenants every _Sunday_

Morning, while they wait till his Worship is ready to go to Church;

wondering that a Man who had so many Fathers before him, should not be

made a [Knight,] [1] or at least a Justice of the Peace.'

[Footnote 1: Lord,]

* * * * *

No. 613. Friday, October 29, 1714.

'--Studiis florentem ignobilis oti--'

Virg.

It is reckoned a Piece of Ill-breeding for one Man to engross the whole

Talk to himself. For this Reason, since I keep three Visiting-Days in

the Week, I am content now and then to let my Friends put in a Word.

There are several Advantages hereby accruing both to my Readers and my

self. As first, Young and modest Writers have an Opportunity of getting

into Print: Again, The Town enjoys the Pleasure of Variety; and

Posterity will see the Humour of the present Age, by the help of these

little Lights into private and domestick Life. The Benefits I receive

from thence, are such as these: I gain more Time for future

Speculations; pick up Hints which I improve for the publick Good; give

Advice; redress Grievances; and, by leaving commodious Spaces between

the several Letters that I print, furnish out a _Spectator_ with little

Labour and great Ostentation.

_Mr._ SPECTATOR,

'I was mightily pleased with your Speculation of _Friday_. Your

Sentiments are Noble, and the whole worked up in such a manner, as

cannot but strike upon every Reader. But give me leave to make this

Remark: That while you write so Pathetically on Contentment, and a

retired Life, you sooth the Passion of Melancholy, and depress the

Mind from Actions truly Glorious. Titles and Honours are the Reward of

Virtue: We therefore ought to be affected with them: And tho' light

Minds are too much puffed up with exterior Pomp, yet I cannot see why

it is not as truly Philosophical, to admire the glowing Ruby, or the

sparkling Green of an Emerald, as the fainter and less permanent

Beauties of a Rose or a Myrtle. If there are Men of extraordinary

Capacities who lye concealed from the World, I should impute it to

them as a Blot in their Character, did not I believe it owing to the

Meanness of their Fortune rather than of their Spirit. _Cowley_, who

tells the Story of _Agla¸s_ with so much Pleasure, was no Stranger to

Courts, nor insensible of Praise.

'What shall I do to be for ever known,

And make the Age to come my own?'

was the Result of a laudable Ambition. It was not till after frequent

Disappointments, that he termed himself the Melancholy _Cowley_; and

he praised Solitude, when he despair'd of shining in a Court. The Soul

of Man is an active Principle. He therefore, who withdraws himself

from the Scene before he has play'd his Part, ought to be hissed off

the Stage, and cannot be deemed Virtuous, because he refuses to answer

his End. I must own I am fired with an honest Ambition to imitate

every illustrious Example. The Battles of _Blenheim_ and _Ramillies_

have more than once made me wish my self a Soldier. And when I have

seen those Actions so nobly celebrated by our Poets, I have secretly

aspir'd to be one of that distinguished Class. But in vain I wish, in

vain I pant with the Desire of Action. I am chained down in Obscurity,

and the only Pleasure I can take is in seeing so many brighter

Genius's join their friendly Lights, to add to the Splendor of the

Throne. Farewel then dear _Spec_, and believe me to be with great

Emulation, and no Envy,'

_Your profess'd Admirer_,

Will. Hopeless.

_Middle-Temple, October_ 26, 1714.

_SIR_,

'Tho' you have formerly made _Eloquence_ the Subject of one or more of

your Papers, I do not remember that you ever consider'd it as

possessed by a Set of People, who are so far from making

_Quintilian's_ Rules their Practice, that, I dare say for them, they

never heard of such an Author, and yet are no less Masters of it than

_Tully_ or _Demosthenes_ among the Ancients, or whom you please

amongst the Moderns. The Persons I am speaking of are our common

Beggars about this Town; and that what I say is true, I appeal to any

Man who has a Heart one Degree softer than a Stone. As for my part,

who don't pretend to more Humanity than my Neighbours, I have

oftentimes gone from my Chambers with Money in my Pocket, and returned

to them not only Pennyless, but destitute of a Farthing, without

bestowing of it any other way than on these seeming Objects of Pity.

In short, I have seen more Eloquence in a _Look_ from one of these

despicable Creatures, than in the _Eye_ of the fairest _She_ I ever

saw, yet no one is a greater Admirer of that Sex than my self. What I

have to desire of you is, to lay down some Directions in order to

guard against these powerful Orators, or else I know nothing to the

contrary but I must my self be forced to leave the Profession of the

Law, and endeavour to get the Qualifications necessary to that more

profitable one of Begging. But in which soever of these two Capacities

I shine, I shall always desire to be your constant Reader, and ever

will be'

_Your most humble Servant_,

J. B.

_SIR_,

'Upon Reading a _Spectator_ last Week, where Mrs. _Fanny Fickle_

submitted the Choice of a Lover for Life to your decisive

Determination, and imagining I might claim the Favour of your Advice

in an Affair of the like, but much more difficult Nature, I called for

Pen and Ink, in order to draw the Characters of Seven Humble Servants,

whom I have equally encouraged for some time. But alas! while I was

reflecting on the agreeable Subject, and contriving an advantageous

Description of the dear Person I was most inclined to favour, I

happened to look into my Glass. The sight of the Small-Pox, out of

which I am just recovered, tormented me at once with the loss of my

captivating Arts and my Captives. The Confusion I was in, on this

unhappy, unseasonable Discovery, is inexpressible. Believe me, Sir, I

was so taken up with the Thoughts of your fair Correspondent's Case,

and so intent on my own Design, that I fancied myself as Triumphant in

my Conquests as ever.

'Now, Sir, finding I was incapacitated to Amuse my self on that

pleasing Subject, I resolved to apply my self to you, or your

Casuistical Agent, for Advice in my present Circumstances. I am

sensible the Tincture of my Skin, and the Regularity of my Features,

which the Malice of my late Illness has altered, are irrecoverable;

yet don't despair, but that Loss, by your Assistance, may in some

measure be reparable, if you'll please to propose a way for the

Recovery of one only of my Fugitives.

'One of them is in a more particular Manner beholden to me than the

rest; he for some private Reasons being desirous to be a Lover

incognito, always addressed me with _Billet-Doux_, which I was so

careful of in my Sickness, that I secured the Key of my Love-Magazine

under my Head, and hearing a noise of opening a Lock in my Chamber,

indangered my Life by getting out of Bed, to prevent, if it had been

attempted, the Discovery of that Amour.

'I have formerly made use of all those Artifices, which our Sex daily

practises over yours, to draw, as it were undesignedly, the eyes of a

whole Congregation to my Pew; I have taken a Pride in the number of

Admirers at my Afternoon LevÈe; but am now quite another Creature. I

think, could I regain the attractive Influence I once had, if I had a

Legion of Suitors, I should never be ambitious of Entertaining more

than one. I have almost contracted an Antipathy to the trifling

Discourses of Impertinent Lovers, though I must needs own, I have

thought it very odd of late, to hear Gentlemen, instead of their usual

Complacencies, fall into Disputes before me of Politicks, or else

weary me with the tedious Repetition of how thankful I ought to be,

and satisfied with my Recovery out of so dangerous a Distemper: This,

though I am very sensible of the Blessing, yet I cannot but dislike,

because such Advice from them rather seems to Insult than Comfort me,

and reminds me too much of what I was; which melancholy Consideration

I cannot yet perfectly surmount, but hope your Sentiments on this Head

will make it supportable.

'To shew you what a Value I have for your Dictates, these are to

certify the Persons concern'd, that unless one of them returns to his

Colours, (if I may so call them now) before the Winter is over, I'll

voluntarily confine my self to a Retirement, where I'll punish them

all with my Needle. I'll be reveng'd on them by deciphering them on a

Carpet, humbly begging Admittance, my self scornfully refusing it: If

you disapprove of this, as favouring too much of Malice, be pleased to

acquaint me with a Draught you like better, and it shall be faithfully

performed'

_By the Unfortunate_

Monimia.

* * * * *

No. 614. Monday, November 1, 1712.

'Si mihi non animo fixum, immotumque sederet,

Ne cui me vinclo vellem sociare jugali,

Postquam primus amor deceptam morte fefellit;

Si non pertæsum thalami, tedæque fuisset:

Huic uni forsan potui succumbere culpæ.'

Virg.

The following Account hath been transmitted to me by the Love Casuist.

_Mr_. SPECTATOR,

'Having, in some former Papers, taken Care of the two States of

Virginity and Marriage, and being willing that all People should be

served in their Turn; I this Day drew out my Drawer of Widows, where I

met with several Cases, to each whereof I have returned satisfactory

Answers by the Post. The Cases are as follow:

'_Q._ Whether _Amoret_ be bound by a Promise of Marriage to

_Philander_, made during her Husband's Life?

'_Q._ Whether _Sempronia_, having faithfully given a Promise to two

several Persons during the last Sickness of her Husband, is not

thereby left at Liberty to chase which of them she pleases, or to

reject them both for the sake of a new Lover?

'_Cleora_ asks me, Whether she be obliged to continue single,

according to a Vow made to her Husband at the time of his presenting

her with a Diamond Necklace; she being informed by a very pretty young

Fellow of a good Conscience, that such Vows are in their Nature

sinful?

'Another enquires, Whether she hath not the Right of Widowhood, to

dispose of her self to a Gentleman of great Merit, who presses very

hard; her Husband being irrecoverably gone in a Consumption?

'An unreasonable Creature hath the Confidence to ask, Whether it be

proper for her to marry a Man who is younger than her eldest Son?

'A scrupulous well-spoken Matron, who gives me a great many good

Words, only doubts, Whether she is not obliged in Conscience to shut

up her two marriageable Daughters, till such time as she hath

comfortably disposed of her self?

'_Sophronia_, who seems by her Phrase and Spelling to be a Person of

Condition, sets forth, That whereas she hath a great Estate, and is

but a Woman, she desires to be informed, whether she would not do

prudently to marry _Camillus_, a very idle tall young Fellow, who hath

no Fortune of his own, and consequently hath nothing else to do but to

manage hers.'

Before I speak of Widows, I cannot but observe one thing, which I do not

know how to account for; a Widow is always more sought after, than an

old Maid of the same Age. It is common enough among ordinary People, for

a stale Virgin to set up a Shop in a Place where she is not known; where

the large Thumb Ring, supposed to be given her by her Husband, quickly

recommends her to some wealthy Neighbour, who takes a Liking to the

jolly Widow, that would have overlooked the venerable Spinster.

The Truth of it is, if we look into this Sett of Women, we find,

according to the different Characters or Circumstances wherein they are

left, that Widows may be divided into those who raise Love, and those

who raise Compassion.

But not to ramble from this Subject, there are two Things in which

consists chiefly the Glory of a Widow; The Love of her deceased Husband,

and the Care of her Children: To which may be added a third arising out

of the former, Such a prudent Conduct as may do Honour to both.

A Widow possessed of all these three Qualities, makes not only a

virtuous but a sublime Character.

There is something so great and so generous in this State of Life, when

it is accompanied with all its Virtues, that it is the Subject of one of

the finest among our modern Tragedies in the Person of _Andromache_; and

hath met with an universal and deserved Applause, when introduced upon

our _English_ Stage by Mr. _Philips_.

The most memorable Widow in History is Queen _Artemisia_, who not only

erected the famous _Mausoleum_, but drank up the Ashes of her dead Lord;

thereby enclosing them in a nobler Monument than that which she had

built, though deservedly esteemed one of the Wonders of Architecture.

This last Lady seems to have had a better Title to a second Husband than

any I have read of, since not one Dust of her First was remaining. Our

modern Heroines might think a Husband a very bitter Draught, and would

have good Reason to complain, if they might not accept of a second

Partner, till they had taken such a troublesome Method of losing the

Memory of the first.

I shall add to these illustrious Examples out of ancient Story, a

remarkable instance of the Delicacy of our Ancestors in Relation to the

State of Widowhood, as I find it recorded in _Cowell's_ Interpreter.

_At_ East _and_ West-Enborne, _in the County of_ Berks, _if a Customary

Tenant die, the Widow shall have what the Law calls her_ Free-Bench _in

all his Copy-hold Lands_, dum sola & casta fuerit; _that is_, while she

lives single and chaste; _but if she commit Incontinency, she forfeits

her Estate: Yet if she will come into the Court riding backward upon a

Black Ram, with his Tail in her Hand, and say the Words following, the

Steward is bound by the Custom to re-admit her to her_ Free-Bench. [1]

'Here I am,

Riding upon a Black Ram,

Like a Whore as I am;

And, for my_ Crincum Crancum,

_Have lost my_ Bincum Bancum;

And, for my Tail's Game,

Have done this worldly Shame;

Therefore, I pray you Mr. Steward, let me have my Land again.'

The like Custom there is in the Manor of _Torre_ in _Devonshire_, and

other Parts of the _West_.

It is not impossible but I may in a little Time present you with a

Register of _Berkshire_ Ladies and other Western Dames, who rode

publickly upon this Occasion; and I hope the Town will be entertained

with a Cavalcade of Widows.

[Footnote 1: Frank Bank or Free bench are copyhold lands which the wife,

being married a spinster, had after her husband's death for dower.]

* * * * *

No. 615. Wednesday, November 3, 1714.

'--Qui Deorum

Muneribus sapienter uti,

Duramque callet pauperiem pati,

Pejusque letho flagitium timet:

Non ille pro caris amicis

Aut patriâ timidus perire.'

Hor.

It must be owned that Fear is a very powerful Passion, since it is

esteemed one of the greatest of Virtues to subdue it. It being implanted

in us for our Preservation, it is no Wonder it sticks close to us, as

long as we have any thing we are willing to preserve. But as Life, and

all its Enjoyments, would be scarce worth the keeping, if we were under

a perpetual Dread of losing them; it is the Business of Religion and

Philosophy to free us from all unnecessary Anxieties, and direct our

Fear to its proper Object.

If we consider the Painfulness of this Passion, and the violent Effects

it produces, we shall see how dangerous it is to give way to it upon

slight Occasions. Some have frightened themselves into Madness, others

have given up their Lives to these Apprehensions. The Story of a Man who

grew grey in the Space of one Night's Anxiety is very famous;

'O! Nox, quam longa es, quæ facis una Senem.'

These Apprehensions, if they proceed from a Consciousness of Guilt, are

the sad Warnings of Reason; and may excite our Pity, but admit of no

Remedy. When the Hand of the Almighty is visibly lifted against the

Impious, the Heart of mortal Man cannot withstand him. We have this

Passion sublimely represented in the Punishment of the _Egyptians_,

tormented with the Plague of Darkness, in the _Apocryphal_ Book. of

_Wisdom_ ascribed to _Solomon_.

'For when unrighteous Men thought to oppress the holy Nation; they

being shut up in their Houses, the Prisoners of Darkness, and fetter'd

with the Bonds of a long Night, lay here exiled from the eternal

Providence. For while they supposed to lye hid in their secret Sins,

they were scattered under a dark Veil of Forgetfulness, being horribly

astonished and troubled with strange Apparitions--For Wickedness,

condemned by her own Witness, is very timorous, and being oppressed

with Conscience, always forecasteth grievous things. For Fear is

nothing else but a betraying of the Succours which Reason

offereth--For the whole World shined with clear Light, and none were

hindered in their Labour. Over them only was spread a heavy Night, an

Image of that Darkness which should afterwards receive them; but yet

were they unto themselves more grievous than the Darkness.' [1]

To Fear, so justly grounded, no Remedy can be proposed; but a Man (who

hath no great Guilt hanging upon his Mind, who walks in the plain Path

of Justice and Integrity, and yet either by natural Complection, or

confirmed Prejudices, or Neglect of serious Reflection, suffers himself

to be moved by this abject and unmanly Passion) would do well to

consider, That there is nothing which deserves his Fear, but that

beneficent Being who is his Friend, his Protector, his Father. Were this

one Thought strongly fixed in the Mind, what Calamity would be dreadful?

What Load can Infamy lay upon us when we are sure of the Approbation of

him, who will repay the Disgrace of a Moment with the Glory of Eternity?

What Sharpness is there in Pain and Diseases, when they only hasten us

on to the Pleasures that will never fade? What sting is in Death, when

we are assured that it is only the Beginning of Life? A Man who lives

so, as not to fear to die, is inconsistent with himself, if he delivers

himself up to any incidental Anxiety.

The Intrepidity of a just good Man is so nobly set forth by _Horace_,

that it cannot be too often repeated.

'The Man resolved and steady to his Trust,

Inflexible to Ill, and obstinately just,

May the rude Rabble's Insolence despise,

Their senseless Clamours and tumultuous Cries;

The Tyrant's Fierceness he beguiles,

And the stern Brow, and the harsh Voice defies,

And with superior Greatness smiles.

Not the rough Whirlwind, that deforms_

Adria's _black Gulf, and vexes it with Storms,

The stubborn Virtue of his Soul can move;

Not the Red Arm of angry Jove,

That flings the Thunder from the Sky,

And gives it Rage to roar, and Strength to fly.

Should the whole Frame of Nature round him break,

In Ruin and Confusion hurl'd,

He, unconcerned, would hear the mighty Crack,

And Stand secure amidst a falling World.' [2]

The Vanity of Fear may be yet farther illustrated, if we reflect,

_First_, What we fear may not come to pass. No human Scheme can be so

accurately projected, but some little Circumstance intervening may spoil

it. He, who directs the Heart of Man at his Pleasure, and understands

the Thoughts long before, may by ten thousand Accidents, or an immediate

Change in the Inclinations of Men, disconcert the most subtle Project,

and turn it to the Benefit of his own Servants.

In the next Place we should consider, though the Evil we imagine should

come to pass, it may be much more supportable than it appeared to be. As

there is no prosperous State of Life without its Calamities, so there is

no Adversity without its Benefits, Ask the Great and Powerful, if they

do not feel the Pangs of Envy and Ambition. Enquire of the Poor and

Needy, if they have not tasted the Sweets of Quiet and Contentment. Even

under the Pains of Body; the Infidelity of Friends; or the

Misconstructions put upon our laudable Actions, our Minds (when for some

Time accustomed to these Pressures) are sensible of secret Flowings of

Comfort, the present Reward of a pious Resignation. The Evils of this

Life appear like Rocks and Precipices, rugged and barren at a Distance,

but at our nearer Approach, we find little fruitful Spots, and

refreshing Springs, mixed with the Harshness and Deformities of Nature.

In the last Place, we may comfort our selves with this Consideration;

that, as the Thing feared may not reach us, so we may not reach what we

fear: Our Lives may not extend to that dreadful Point which we have in

View. He who knows all our Failings, and will not suffer us to be

tempted beyond our Strength, is often pleased in his tender Severity, to

separate the Soul from its Body and Miseries together.

If we look forward to him for Help, we shall never be in Danger of

falling down those Precipices which our Imagination is apt to create.

Like those who walk upon a Line, if we keep our Eye fixed upon one

Point, we may step forward securely; whereas an imprudent or cowardly

Glance on either Side will infallibly destroy us.

[Footnote 1: Wisd. xvii. _passim_.]

[Footnote 2: Horace, Bk III. Od. 3.]

* * * * *

No. 616. Friday, November 5, 1714.

'Qui bellus homo est, Cotta, pusillus homo est.'

Martial.

_Cicero_ hath observed, that a Jest is never uttered with a better

Grace, than when it is accompanied with a serious Countenance. When a

pleasant Thought plays in the Features, before it discovers it self in

Words, it raises too great an Expectation, and loses the Advantage of

giving Surprize. Wit and Humour are no less poorly recommended by a

Levity of Phrase, and that kind of Language which may be distinguished

by the Name of _Cant_. Ridicule is never more strong, than when it is

concealed in Gravity. True Humour lies in the Thought, and arises from

the Representation of Images in odd Circumstances, and uncommon Lights.

A pleasant Thought strikes us by the Force of its natural Beauty; and

the Mirth of it is generally rather palled, than heightened by that

ridiculous Phraseology, which is so much in Fashion among the Pretenders

to Humour and Pleasantry. This Tribe of Men are like our Mountebanks;

they make a Man a Wit, by putting him in a fantastick Habit.

Our little Burlesque Authors, who are the Delight of ordinary Readers,

generally abound in these pert Phrases, which have in them more Vivacity

than Wit.

I lately saw an Instance of this kind of Writing, which gave me so

lively an Idea of it, that I could not forbear begging a Copy of the

Letter from the Gentleman who shew'd it to me. It is written by a

Country Wit, upon the Occasion of the Rejoycings on the Day of the

King's Coronation.

_Dear_ Jack, (_Past two a Clock and a frosty Morning_.) [1]

I have just left the Right Worshipful and his Myrmidons about a

Sneaker of Five Gallons. The whole Magistracy was pretty well

disguised before I gave 'em the Slip. Our Friend the Alderman was half

Seas over before the Bonfire was out. We had with us the Attorney, and

two or three other bright Fellows. The Doctor plays least in Sight.

At Nine a Clock in the Evening we set Fire to the Whore of _Babylon_.

The Devil acted his Part to a Miracle. He has made his Fortune by it.

We equip'd the young Dog with a Tester a-piece. Honest old _Brown_ of

_England_ was very drunk, and showed his Loyalty to the Tune of a

hundred Rockets. The Mob drank the King's Health, on their

Marrow-bones, in Mother _Day's_ Double. They whip'd us half a dozen

Hogsheads. Poor _Tom Tyler_ had like to have been demolished with the

End of a Sky-Rocket, that fell upon the Bridge of his Nose as he was

drinking the King's Health, and spoiled his Tip. The Mob were very

loyal 'till about Midnight, when they grew a little mutinous for more

Liquor. They had like to have dumfounded the Justice; but his Clerk

came in to his Assistance, and took them all down in Black and White.

When I had been huzza'd out of my Seven Senses, I made a Visit to the

Women, who were guzzling very comfortably. Mrs. Mayoress clip'd the

King's _English_. Clack was the Word.

I forgot to tell thee, that every one of the Posse had his Hat cocked

with a Distich: The Senators sent us down a Cargo of Ribbon and Metre

for the Occasion.

Sir _Richard_ to shew his Zeal for the Protestant Religion, is at the

Expence of a Tar-Barrel and a Ball. I peeped into the Knight's great

Hall, and saw a very pretty Bevy of Spinsters. My dear Relict was

amongst them, and ambled in a Country-Dance as notably as the best of

'em.

May all his Majesty's liege Subjects love him as well as his good

People of this his ancient Borough. Adieu.

[Footnote 1: (Two in the Morning is the Word, old Boy.)]

* * * * *

No. 617. Monday, November 8, 1714.

'Torva Mimalloneis implerunt cornua bombis,

Et raptum vitulo caput ablatura superbo

Bassaris, et lyncem Mænas flexura corymbis,

Evion ingeminat reparabilis adsonat Echo.'

Persius.

There are two Extreams in the Stile of Humour, one of which consists in

the Use of that little pert Phraseology which I took Notice of in my

last Paper; the other in the Affectation of strained and pompous

Expressions, fetched from the learned Languages. The first savours too

much of the Town; the other of the College.

As nothing illustrates better than Example, I shall here present my

Reader with a Letter of Pedantick Humour, which was written by a young

Gentleman of the University to his Friend; on the same Occasion, and

from the same Place, as the lively Epistle published in my last

_Spectator_.

_Dear Chum_,

'It is now the third Watch of the Night, the greatest Part of which I

have spent round a capacious Bowl of _China_, filled with the choicest

Products of both the _Indies_. I was placed at a quadrangular Table,

diametrically opposite to the Mace-bearer. The Visage of that

venerable Herald was, according to Custom, most gloriously illuminated

on this joyful occasion. The Mayor and Aldermen, those Pillars of our

Constitution, began to totter; and if any one at the Board could have

so far articulated, as to have demanded intelligibly a Reinforcement

of Liquor, the whole Assembly had been by this time extended under the

Table.

'The Celebration of this Night's Solemnity was opened by the

Obstreperous Joy of Drummers, who, with their Parchment Thunder, gave

a signal for the Appearance of the Mob under their several Classes and

Denominations. They were quickly joined by the melodious Clank of

Marrow-bone and Cleaver, whilst a Chorus of Bells filled up the

Consort. A Pyramid of Stack-Faggots cheared the Hearts of the Populace

with the Promise of a Blaze: The Guns had no sooner uttered the

Prologue, but the Heavens were brightned with artificial Meteors, and

Stars of our own making; and all the _High-street_ lighted up from one

End to another, with a Galaxy of Candles. We collected a Largess for

the Multitude, who tippled Eleemosynary till they grew exceeding

Vociferous. There was a Paste-board Pontiff with a little swarthy

Dæmon at his Elbow, who, by his diabolical Whispers and Insinuations

tempted his Holiness into the Fire, and then left him to shift for

himself. The Mobile were very sarcastick with their Clubs, and gave

the old Gentleman several Thumps upon his triple Head-piece. _Tom

Tyler's_ Phiz is something damaged by the Fall of a Rocket, which hath

almost spoiled the Gnomon of his Countenance. The Mirth of the Commons

grew so very outragious, that it found Work for our Friend of the

_Quorum_, who, by the help of his _Amanuensis_, took down all their

Names and their Crimes, with a Design to produce his Manuscript at the

next Quarter-Sessions, _&c. &c. &c_.

'I shall subjoin to the foregoing Piece of a Letter, the following

Copy of Verses translated from an Italian Poet, who was the

_Cleveland_ of his Age, and had Multitudes of Admirers. The Subject is

an Accident that happened under the Reign of Pope _Leo_, when a

Firework, that had been prepared upon the Castle of St. _Angelo_,

begun to play before its Time, being kindled by a Flash of Lightning.

The Author hath written his Poem [1] in the same kind of Style, as

that I have already exemplified in Prose. Every Line in it is a

Riddle, and the Reader must be forced to consider it twice or thrice,

before he will know that the _Cynick's_ Tenement is a _Tub_, and

_Bacchus_ his Cast-coat a _Hogs-head_, &c.

' 'Twas Night, and Heav'n, a_ Cyclops, _all the Day,

An Argus now did countless Eyes display;

In ev'ry Window_ Rome _her Joy declares,

All bright, and studded with terrestrial Stars.

A blazing Chain of Lights her Roofs entwines.

And round her Neck the mingled Lustre shines,

The_ Cynick's _rowling Tenement conspires,

With_ Bacchus _his Cast-coat, to feed the Fires.

The Pile, still big with undiscover'd Shows,

The_ Tuscan _Pile did last its Freight disclose,

Where the proud Tops of_ Rome's _new_ Ætna _rise,

Whence Giants sally, and invade the Skies.

Whilst now the Multitude expect the Time,

And their tir'd Eyes the lofty Mountain climb,

A thousand Iron Mouths their Voices try,

And thunder out a dreadful Harmony;

In treble Notes the small Artill'ry plays,

The deep-mouth'd Cannon bellows in the Bass.

The lab'ring Pile now heaves; and having giv'n

Proofs of its Travail sighs in Flames to Heav'n.

The Clouds invelop'd Heav'n from Human Sight,

Quench'd every Star, and put out ev'ry Light;

Now Real Thunder grumbles in the Skies,

And in disdainful Murmurs_ Rome _defies;

Nor doth its answer'd Challenge_ Rome _decline;

But whilst both Parties in full Consort join,

While Heav'n and Earth in Rival Peals resound,

The doubtful Cracks the Hearer's Sense confound;

Whether the Claps of Thunderbolts they hear,

Or else the Burst of Canon wounds their Ear;

Whether Clouds raged by struggling Metals rent,

Or struggling Clouds in_ Roman _Metals pent.

But O, my Muse, the whole Adventure tell,

As ev'ry Accident in order fell.

Tall Groves of Trees the_ Hadrian _Tow'r surround,

Fictitious Trees with Paper Garlands crown'd,

These know no Spring, but when their Bodies sprout

In Fire, and shoot their gilded Blossoms out;

When blazing Leaves appear above their Head,

And into branching Flames their Bodies spread.

Whilst real Thunder splits the Firmament,

And Heav'n's whole Roof in one vast Cleft is rent,

The three-fork'd Tongue amidst the Rupture lolls,

Then drops and on the Airy Turret falls.

The Trees now kindle, and the Garland burns,

And thousand Thunderbolts for one returns.

Brigades of burning Archers upward fly,

Bright Spears and shining Spear-men mount on high,

Flash in the Clouds, and glitter in the Sky.

A Seven-fold Shield of Spheres doth Heav'n defend,

And back again the blunted Weapons send;

Unwillingly they fall, and dropping down,

Pour out their Souls, their sulph'rous Souls, and groan.

With Joy, great Sir, we viewed this pompous Show,

While Heaven, that sate Spectator still 'till now,

It self turn'd Actor, proud to Pleasure you.

And so 'tis fit, when_ Leo's _fires appear,

That Heav'n it self should turn an Engineer;

That Heav'n it self should all its Wonders show,

And Orbs above consent with Orbs below.'

[Footnote 1: Translated from the Latin in Strada's Prolusions.]

* * * * *

No. 618. Wednesday, November 10, 1714.

'--Neque enim concludere versum

Dixeris esse satis: neque siquis scribat, uti nos,

Sermoni propiora, putes hunc esse Poetam.'

Hor.

_Mr_. SPECTATOR,

You having, in your two last _Spectators_, given the Town a couple of

Remarkable Letters, in very different Styles: I take this Opportunity

to offer to you some Remarks upon the _Epistolary_ way of writing in

Verse. This is a _Species_ of Poetry by it self; and has not so much

as been hinted at in any of the Arts of Poetry, that have ever fallen

into my Hands: Neither has it in any Age, or any Nation, been so much

cultivated, as the other several Kinds of Poesie. A Man of _Genius_

may, if he pleases, write Letters in Verse upon all manner of

Subjects, that are capable of being embellished with Wit and Language,

and may render them new and agreeable by giving the proper Turn to

them. But in speaking, at present, of _Epistolary Poetry_, I would be

understood to mean only such Writings in this Kind, as have been in

Use amongst the Ancients, and have been copied from them by some

Moderns. These may be reduced into two _Classes_: In the one I shall

range Love-Letters, Letters of Friendship, and Letters upon mournful

Occasions: In the other I shall place such Epistles in Verse, as may

properly be called Familiar, Critical, and Moral; to which may be

added Letters of Mirth and Humour. _Ovid_ for the first, and _Horace_

for the Latter, are the best Originals we have left.

'He that is ambitious of succeeding in the _Ovidian_ way, should first

examine his Heart well, and feel whether his Passions (especially

those of the gentler Kind) play easie, since it is not his Wit, but

the Delicacy and Tenderness of his Sentiments, that will affect his

Readers. His Versification likewise should be soft, and all his

Numbers flowing and querulous.

'The Qualifications requisite for writing Epistles, after the Model

given us by _Horace_, are of a quite different Nature. He that would

excel in this kind must have a good Fund of strong Masculine Sense: To

this there must be joined a thorough Knowledge of Mankind, together

with an Insight into the Business, and the prevailing Humours of the

Age. Our Author must have his Mind well seasoned with the finest

Precepts of Morality, and be filled with nice Reflections upon the

bright and the dark sides of human Life: He must be a Master of

refined Raillery, and understand the Delicacies, as well as the

Absurdities of Conversation. He must have a lively Turn of Wit, with

an easie and concise manner of Expression; Every thing he says, must

be in a free and disengaged manner. He must be guilty of nothing that

betrays the Air of a Recluse, but appear a Man of the World

throughout. His Illustrations, his Comparisons, and the greatest part

of his Images must be drawn from common Life. Strokes of Satyr and

Criticism, as well as Panegyrick, judiciously thrown in (and as it

were by the by) give a wonderful Life and Ornament to Compositions of

this kind. But let our Poet, while he writes Epistles, though never so

familiar, still remember that he writes in Verse, and must for that

reason have a more than ordinary care not to fall into Prose, and a

vulgar Diction, excepting where the Nature and Humour of the Thing

does necessarily require it. In this Point _Horace_ hath been thought

by some Criticks to be sometimes careless, as well as too negligent of

his Versification; of which he seems to have been sensible himself.

'All I have to add is, that both these Manners of Writing may be made

as entertaining, in their Way, as any other Species of Poetry, if

undertaken by Persons duly qualify'd; and the latter sort may be

managed so as to become in a peculiar manner Instructive. _I am, &ct_.'

I shall add an Observation or two to the Remarks of my ingenious

Correspondent, and, in the First place, take Notice, that Subjects of

the most sublime Nature are often treated in the Epistolary way with

Advantage, as in the famous Epistle of _Horace_ to _Augustus_. The Poet

surprizes us with his Pomp, and seems rather betrayed into his Subject,

than to have aimed at it by Design: He appears like the Visit of a King

_Incognito_, with a mixture of Familiarity, and Grandeur. In Works of

this kind, when the Dignity of the Subject hurries the Poet into

Descriptions and Sentiments, seemingly unpremeditated, by a sort of

Inspiration; it is usual for him to recollect himself, and fall back

gracefully into the natural Stile of a Letter.

I might here mention an Epistolary Poem, just published by Mr. _Eusden_

on the King's Accession to the Throne: Wherein, amongst many other noble

and beautiful Strokes of Poetry, his Reader may see this Rule very

happily observed.

* * * * *

No. 619. Friday, November 12, 1714.

'--dura

Exerce imperia, et ramos compesce fluentes.'

Virg.

I have often thought, that if the several Letters, which are written to

me under the Character of SPECTATOR, and which I have not made use of,

were published in a Volume, they would not be an unentertaining

Collection. The Variety of the Subjects, Styles, Sentiments, and

Informations, which are transmitted to me, would lead a very curious, or

very idle Reader, insensibly along, through a great many Pages. I know

some Authors, who would pick up a _Secret History_ out of such

Materials, and make a Bookseller an Alderman by the Copy. [1] I shall

therefore carefully preserve the Original Papers in a Room set apart for

that Purpose, to the end that they may be of Service to Posterity; but

shall at present content my self, with owning the Receipt of several

Letters, lately come to my Hands, the Authors whereof are impatient for

an Answer.

_CHARISSA_, whose Letter is dated from _Cornhill_, desires to be eased

in some Scruples relating to the Skill of Astrologers. _Referred to the

Dumb Man for an Answer._

_J. C_. who proposes a Love-Case, as he calls it, to the Love-Casuist,

is hereby desir'd to speak of it to the Minister of the Parish; it being

a Case of Conscience.

The poor young Lady, whose Letter is dated _October 26_, who complains

of a harsh Guardian, and an unkind Brother, can only have my good

Wishes, unless she pleases to be more particular.

The Petition of a certain Gentleman, whose Name I have forgot, famous

for renewing the Curls of decayed Perriwigs, is referred to _the Censor

of small Wares_.

The Remonstrance of _T. C._ against the Profanation of the Sabbath by

Barbers, Shoe-cleaners, _&c._ had better be offer'd to _the Society of

Reformers_.

A learned and laborious Treatise upon the Art of Fencing, _returned to

the Author_.

To the Gentleman of _Oxford_, who desires me to insert a Copy of _Latin_

Verses which were denied a Place in the University Book. Answer.

_Nonumque prematur in annum_.

To my learned Correspondent who writes against Master's Gowns, and Poke

Sleeves, with a Word in Defence of large Scarves. Answer. _I resolve not

to raise Animosities amongst the Clergy_.

To the Lady, who writes with Rage against one of her own Sex, upon the

Account of Party Warmth. Answer. _Is not the Lady she writes against

reckoned Handsome_?

I desire _Tom Truelove_, (who sends me a Sonnet upon his Mistress, with

a desire to print it immediately) to consider, that it is long since I

was in Love.

I shall answer a very profound Letter from my old Friend the

Upholsterer, who is still inquisitive whether the King of _Sweden_ be

living or dead, by whispering him in the Ear, _That I believe he is

alive_.

Let Mr. _Dapperwit_ consider, _What is that long Story of the Cuckoldom

to me_?

At the earnest Desire of _Monimia's_ Lover, who declares himself very

penitent, he is recorded in my Paper by the Name of _The Faithful_

Castalio.

The Petition of _Charles Cocksure_, which the Petitioner styles _very

reasonable--Rejected_.

The Memorial of _Philander_, which he desires may be dispatched out of

Hand, _Postponed_.

I desire _S. R._ not to repeat the Expression _under the Sun_ so often

in his next Letter.

The Letter of _P. S._ who desires either to have it printed entire, or

committed to the Flames. _Not to be printed entire_.

[Footnote 1: Charles Lillie published, in 1725, 'Original and Genuine

Letters sent 'to the _Tatler_ and _Spectator_ during the time those

Works were publishing, none of which have been before printed.']

* * * * *

No. 620. Monday, November 15, 1714. Tickell.

'Hic Vir, hic est, tibi quem promitti sæpius audis.'

Virg.

Having lately presented my Reader with a Copy of Verses full of the

False Sublime, I shall here communicate to him an excellent Specimen of

the True: Though it hath not yet been published, the judicious Reader

will readily discern it to be the Work of a Master: And if he hath read

that noble Poem on _The Prospect of Peace_, he will not be at a Loss to

guess at the Author.

[The ROYAL PROGRESS.]

'When_ BRUNSWICK _first appear'd, each honest Heart,

Intent on Verse, disdain'd the Rules of Art;

For him the Songsters, in unmeasur'd Odes,

Debas'd_ Alcides, _and dethron'd the Gods,

In Golden Chains the Kings of_ India _led,

Or rent the Turban from the_ Sultan's _Head.

One, in old Fables, and the_ Pagan _Strain,

With_ Nymphs _and_ Tritons, _wafts him o'er the Main;

Another draws fierce_ Lucifer _in Arms,

And fills th' Infernal Region with Alarms;

A Third awakes some_ Druid, _to foretel

Each future Triumph from his dreary Cell.

Exploded Fancies! that in vain deceive,

While the Mind nauseates what she can't believe.

My [Muse th' expected [1]] Hero shall pursue

From Clime to Clime, and keep him still in View;

His shining March describe in faithful Lays,

Content to paint him, nor presume to praise;

Their Charms, if Charms they have, the Truth supplies,

And from the Theme unlabour'd Beauties rise.

By longing Nations for the Throne design'd,

And call'd to guard the Rights of Human-kind;

With secret Grief his God-like Soul repines,

And_ Britain's _Crown with joyless Lustre shines,

While Prayers and Tears his destin'd Progress stay,

And Crowds of Mourners choak their Sovereign's Way.

Not so he march'd, when Hostile Squadrons stood

In Scenes of Death, and fir'd his generous Blood;

When his hot Courser paw'd th'_ Hungarian _Plain,

And adverse Legions stood the Shock in vain.

His Frontiers past, the_ Belgian _Bounds he views,

And cross the level Fields his March pursues.

Here pleas'd the Land of Freedom to survey,

He greatly scorns the Thirst of boundless Sway.

O'er the thin Soil, with silent Joy he spies

Transplanted Woods, and borrow'd Verdure rise;

Where every Meadow won with Toil and Blood,

From haughty Tyrants, and the raging Flood,

With Fruits and Flowers the careful Hind supplies,

And cloathes the Marshes in a rich Disguise.

Such Wealth for frugal Hands doth Heaven decree,

And such thy Gifts, Celestial Liberty!

Through stately Towns, and many a fertile Plain,

The Pomp advances to the neighbouring Main.

Whole Nations crowd around with joyful Cries,

And view the Heroe with insatiate Eyes.

In_ Haga's _Towers he waits, 'till Eastern Gales

Propitious rise to swell the_ British _Sails.

Hither the Fame of_ England's _Monarch brings

The Vows and Friendships of the neighb'ring Kings;

Mature in Wisdom, his extensive Mind

Takes in the blended Int'rests of Mankind,

The World's great Patriot. Calm thy anxious Breast,

Secure in him_, O Europe _take thy Rest;

Henceforth thy Kingdoms shall remain confined

By Rocks or Streams, the Mounds which Heav'n design'd:

The_ Alps _their new-made Monarch shall restrain,

Nor shall thy Hills_, Pirene, _rise in vain

But see! to_ Britain's _Isle the Squadrons stand,

And leave the sinking Towers, and lessening Land,

The Royal Bark bounds o'er the floating Plain,

Breaks thro' the Billows, and divides the Main,

O'er the vast Deep, Great Monarch, dart thine Eyes,

A watry Prospect bounded by the Skies:

Ten thousand Vessels, from ten thousand Shores,

Bring Gums and Gold, and either_ India's _Stores:

Behold the Tributes hastening to thy Throne,

And see the wide Horizon all thy own.

Still is it thine; tho' now the cheerful Crew

Hail_ Albion's _Cliffs, just whitening to the View.

Before the Wind with swelling Sails they ride,

Till_ Thames _receives them in his opening Tide.

The Monarch hears the thundering Peals around,

From trembling Woods and ecchoing Hills rebound,

Nor misses yet, amid the deafening Train,

The Roarings of the hoarse-resounding Main.

As in the Flood he sails, from either Side

He views his Kingdom in its rural Pride;

A various Scene the wide-spread Landskip yields,

O'er rich Enclosures and luxuriant Fields:

A lowing Herd each fertile Pasture fills,

And distant Flocks stray o'er a thousand Hills.

Fair_ Greenwich _hid in Woods, with new Delight,

(Shade above Shade) now rises to the Sight:

His Woods ordain'd to visit every Shore,

And guard the Island which they graced before.

The Sun now rowling down the Western Way,

A Blaze of Fires renews the fading Day;

Unnumbered Barks the Regal Barge infold,

Brightening the Twilight with its beamy Gold;

Less thick the finny Shoals, a countless Fry,

Before the Whale or kingly Dolphin fly.

In one vast Shout he seeks the crowded Strand,

And in a Peal of Thunder gains the Land.

Welcome, great Stranger, to our longing Eyes,

Oh! King desir'd, adopted_ Albion _cries.

For thee the East breath'd out a prosperous Breeze,

Bright were the Suns, and gently swell'd the Seas.

Thy Presence did each doubtful Heart compose,

And Factions wonder'd that they once were Foes;

That joyful Day they lost each Hostile Name,

The same their Aspect, and their Voice the same.

So two fair Twins, whose Features were design'd

At one soft Moment in the Mother's Mind,

Show each the other with reflected Grace,

And the same Beauties bloom in either Face;

The puzzled Strangers which is which enquire,

Delusion grateful to the smiling Sire.

From that fair Hill, where hoary Sages boast

To name the Stars, and count the heavenly Host,

By the next Dawn doth great_ Augusta _rise,

Proud Town! the noblest Scene beneath the Skies.

O'er_ Thames _her thousand Spires their Lustre shed,

And a vast Navy hides his ample Bed,

A floating Forest. From the distant Strand

A Line of Golden Carrs strikes o'er the Land_:

Britannia's _Peers in Pomp and rich Array,

Before their King, triumphant, lead the Way.

Far as the Eye can reach, the gawdy Train,

A bright Procession, shines along the Plain.

So haply through the Heav'n's wide pathless Ways

A Comet draws a long-extended Blaze;

From East to West [burns through [2]] th' ethereal Frame,

And half Heav'n's Convex glitters with the Flame.

Now to the Regal Towers securely brought,

He plans_ Britannia's _Glories in his Thought;

Resumes the delegated Pow'r he gave,

Rewards the Faithful and restores the Brave.

Whom shall the Muse from out the shining Throng

Select to heighten and adorn her Song?

Thee_, Halifax. _To thy capacious Mind,

O Man approved, is_ Britain's _Wealth consigned.

Her Coin (while_ Nassau _fought) debas'd and rude,

By Thee in Beauty and in Truth renew'd,

An Arduous Work! again thy Charge we see,

And thy own Care once more returns to Thee.

O! form'd in every Scene to awe and please,

Mix Wit with Pomp, and Dignity with Ease:

Tho' call'd to shine aloft, thou wilt not scorn

To smile on Arts thy self did once adorn:

For this thy Name succeeding Time shall praise,

And envy less thy Garter, than thy Bays.

The Muse, if fir'd with thy enlivening Beams,

Perhaps shall aim at more exalted Themes,

Record our Monarch in a nobler Strain,

And sing the opening Wonders of his Reign;

Bright_ CAROLINA'_s heavenly Beauties trace,

Her valiant_ CONSORT, _and his blooming Race.

A Train of Kings their fruitful Love supplies,

A glorious Scene to_ Albion'_s ravish'd Eyes;

Who sees by_ BRUNSWICK'_s Hand her Sceptre sway'd,

And through his Line from Age to Age convey'd.'

[Footnote 1: [artless Muse the]]

[Footnote 2: he burns].

* * * * *

No. 621. Wednesday, November 17, 1714.

'--postquam se lumine puro

Implevit, stellasque vagas miratur et Astra

Fixa Polis, vidit quanta sub nocte jaceret

Nostra dies, risitque sui ludibria--'

Lucan.

The following Letter having in it some Observations out of the common

Road, I shall make it the Entertainment of this Day.

_Mr_. SPECTATOR,

'The common Topicks against the Pride of Man which are laboured by

florid and declamatory Writers, are taken from the Baseness of his

Original, the Imperfections of his Nature, or the short Duration of

those Goods in which he makes his Boast. Though it be true that we can

have nothing in us that ought to raise our Vanity, yet a Consciousness

of our own Merit may be sometimes laudable. The Folly therefore lyes

here: We are apt to pride our selves in worthless, or perhaps shameful

Things; and, on the other hand, count that disgraceful which is our

truest Glory.

'Hence it is, that the Lovers of Praise take wrong Measures to attain

it. Would a vain Man consult his own Heart, he would find that if

others knew his Weaknesses as well as he himself doth, he could not

have the Impudence to expect the publick Esteem. Pride therefore flows

from want of Reflection, and Ignorance of our selves. Knowledge and

Humility come upon us together.

'The proper way to make an Estimate of our selves, is to consider

seriously what it is we value or despise in others. A Man who boasts

of the Goods of Fortune, a gay Dress or a new Title, is generally the

Mark of Ridicule. We ought therefore not to admire in our selves, what

we are so ready to laugh at in other Men.

'Much less can we with Reason pride our selves in those things, which

at some time of our Life we shall certainly despise. And yet, if we

will give our selves the Trouble of looking backward and forward on

the several Changes, which we have already undergone and hereafter

must try, we shall find that the greater Degrees of our Knowledge and

Wisdom, serve only to shew us our own Imperfections.

'As we rise from Childhood to Youth, we look with Contempt on the Toys

and Trifles which our Hearts have hitherto been set upon. When, we

advance to Manhood, we are held wise in proportion to our Shame and

Regret for the Rashness and Extravagance of Youth. Old Age fills us

with mortifying Reflections upon a Life, mis-spent in the Pursuit of

anxious Wealth or uncertain Honour. Agreeable to this Gradation of

Thought in this Life, it may be reasonably supposed, that in a future

State, the Wisdom, the Experience, and the Maxims of old Age, will be

looked upon by a separate Spirit in much the same Light, as an ancient

Man now sees the little Follies and Toyings of Infants. The Pomps, the

Honours, the Policies, and Arts of mortal Men, will be thought as

trifling as Hobby-Horses, Mock Battles, or any other Sports that now

employ all the Cunning, and Strength, and Ambition of rational Beings

from four Years old to nine or ten.

'If the Notion of a gradual Rise in Beings, from the meanest to the

most High, be not a vain Imagination, it is not improbable that an

Angel looks down upon a Man, as a Man doth upon a Creature which

approaches the nearest to the rational Nature. By the same Rule (if I

may indulge my Fancy in this Particular) a superior Brute looks with a

kind of Pride on one of an inferior Species. If they could reflect, we

might imagine from the Gestures of some of them, that they think

themselves the Sovereigns of the World, and that all things were made

for them. Such a Thought would not be more absurd in Brute Creatures,

than one which Men are apt to entertain, namely, That all the Stars in

the Firmament were created only to please their Eyes and amuse their

Imaginations. Mr. _Dryden_, in his Fable of the _Cock and the Fox_,

makes a Speech for his Hero the Cock, which is a pretty Instance for

this Purpose,

'Then turning, said to_ Partlet, _See, my Dear,

How lavish Nature hath adorn'd the Year;

How the pale Primrose and the Violet spring,

And Birds essay their Throats, disus'd to sing:

All these are ours, and I with Pleasure see

Man strutting on two Legs, and aping me.'

'What I would observe from the Whole is this, That we ought to value

our selves upon those Things only which superior Beings think

valuable, since that is the only way for us not to sink in our own

Esteem hereafter.

* * * * *

No. 622. Friday, November 19, 1714.

'--Fallentis Semita Vitæ.'

Hor.

_Mr_. SPECTATOR,

'In a former Speculation you have observed, that true Greatness doth

not consist in that Pomp and Noise wherein the Generality of Mankind

are apt to place it. You have there taken Notice, that Virtue in

Obscurity often appears more illustrious in the Eye of superior

Beings, than all that passes for Grandeur and Magnificence among Men.

When we look back upon the History of those who have born the Parts of

Kings, Statesmen, or Commanders, they appear to us stripped of those

out-side Ornaments that dazzled their Contemporaries; and we regard

their Persons as great or little, in Proportion to the Eminence of

their Virtues or Vices. The wise Sayings, generous Sentiments, or

disinterested Conduct of a Philosopher under mean Circumstances of

Life, set him higher in our Esteem than the mighty Potentates of the

Earth, when we view them both through the long Prospect of many Ages.

Were the Memoirs of an obscure Man, who lived up to the Dignity of his

Nature, and according to the Rules of Virtue, to be laid before us, we

should find nothing in such a Character which might not set him on a

Level with Men of the highest Stations. The following Extract out of

the private Papers of an honest Country-Gentleman will set this Matter

in a clear Light. Your Reader will perhaps conceive a greater Idea of

him from these Actions done in Secret, and without a Witness, than of

those which have drawn upon them the Admiration of Multitudes.

_MEMOIRS_.

"In my 22d Year I found a violent Affection for my Cousin

_Charles's_ Wife growing upon me, wherein I was in danger of

succeeding, if I had not upon that Account begun my Travels into

foreign Countries.

"A little after my Return into _England_, at a private Meeting with

my Uncle _Francis_, I refused the Offer of his Estate, and prevailed

upon him not to disinherit his Son _Ned_.

"_Mem_. Never to tell this to _Ned,_, lest he should think hardly of

his deceased Father; though he continues to speak ill of me for this

very Reason.

"Prevented a scandalous Law-suit betwixt my Nephew _Harry_ and his

Mother, by allowing her under-hand, out of my own Pocket, so much

Money yearly as the Dispute was about.

"Procured a Benefice for a young Divine, who is Sister's Son to the

good Man who was my Tutor, and hath been dead Twenty Years.

"Gave Ten Pounds to poor Mrs.--, my Friend _H--_'s Widow.

"_Mem_. To retrench one Dish at my Table, till I have fetched it up

again.

"_Mem_. To repair my House and finish my Gardens in order to employ

poor People after Harvest time.

"Ordered _John_ to let out Goodman D--'s Sheep that were pounded, by

Night: but not to let his Fellow-Servants know it.

"Prevailed upon _M. T._ Esq., not to take the Law of the Farmer's

Son for shooting a Partridge, and to give him his Gun again.

"Paid the Apothecary for curing an old Woman that confessed her self

a Witch.

"Gave away my favourite Dog for biting a Beggar.

"Made the Minister of the Parish and a _Whig_ Justice of one Mind,

by putting them upon explaining their Notions to one another.

"_Mem_, To turn off _Peter_ for shooting a Doe while she was eating

Acorns out of his Hand.

"When my Neighbour _John_, who hath often injured me, comes to make

his Request to Morrow:

"_Mem_. I have forgiven him.

"Laid up my Chariot and sold my Horses, to relieve the Poor in a

Scarcity of Corn.

"In the same Year remitted to my Tenants a Fifth Part of their

Rents.

"As I was airing to-day, I fell into a Thought that warmed my Heart,

and shall, I hope, be the better for it as long as I live.

"_Mem_. To charge my Son in private to erect no Monument for me; but

not to put this in my last Will.

* * * * *

No. 623. Monday, November 22, 1714. Addison [1].

'Sed mihi vel tellus optem prius ima dehiscat,

Vel pater omnipotens adigat me fulmine ad umbras,

Pallentes umbras Erebi noctemque profundam,

Ante, pudor, quam te violem aut tua jura resolvam.

Ille meos, primos qui me sibi junxit, amores

Abstulit: ille habeat secum, servetque sepulchro.'

Virg.

I am obliged to my Friend, the _Love-Casuist_[2], for the following

Curious Piece of Antiquity, which I shall communicate to the Publick in

his own Words.

_Mr_. SPECTATOR,

'You may remember, that I lately transmitted to you an Account of an

ancient Custom, in the Manors of East _and_ West-Enborne, _in the

County of_ Berks, _and elsewhere. If a Customary Tenant die, the Widow

shall have what the Law calls her_ Free-Bench _in all his Copyhold

Lands_, dum sola et casta fuerit, _that is_, while she lives single

and chaste; _but if she commits Incontinency, she forfeits her Estate;

Yet if she will come into the Court riding backward upon a Black Ram,

with his Tail in her Hand, and say the Words following, the Steward is

bound by the Custom to re-admit her to her_ Free-Bench.

'Here I am,

Riding upon a Black Ram,

Like a Whore as I am;

And, for my_ Crincum Crancum,

_Have lost my_ Bincum Bancum;

_And, for my Tail's Game,

Have done this worldly Shame;

Therefore, I pray you Mr. Steward, let me have my Land again.'

'After having informed you that my Lord _Coke_ observes, that this is

the most frail and slippery Tenure of any in _England_, I shall tell

you, since the Writing of that Letter, I have, according to my

Promise, been at great Pains in searching out the Records of the

_Black Ram_; and have at last met with the Proceedings of the

Court-Baron, held in that Behalf, for the Space of a whole Day. The

Record saith, that a strict Inquisition having been made into the

Right of the Tenants to their several Estates, by a crafty old

Steward, he found that many of the Lands of the Manor were, by default

of the several Widows, forfeited to the Lord, and accordingly would

have enter'd on the Premises: Upon which the good Women demanded the

Benefit of the Ram. The Steward, after having perused their several

Pleas, adjourn'd the Court to _Barnaby-bright_ [3], that they might

have Day enough before them.

'The Court being set, and filled with a great Concourse of People, who

came from all Parts to see the Solemnity, the first who entered was

the Widow _Frontly_, who had made her Appearance in the last Year's

Cavalcade. The Register observes, that finding it an easy Pad-Ram, and

foreseeing she might have further Occasion for it, she purchased it of

the Steward.

'Mrs. _Sarah Dainty_, Relict of Mr. _John Dainty_, (who was the

greatest Prude in the Parish) came next in the Procession. She at

first made some Difficulty of taking the Tail in her Hand; and was

observed in pronouncing the Form of Penance, to soften the two most

emphatical Words into _Clincum Clancum_: But the Steward took care to

make her speak plain _English_ before he would _let her have her Land

again_.

'The third Widow that was _brought to this worldly Shame_, being

mounted upon a vicious Ram, had the Misfortune to be thrown by him;

upon which she hoped to be excused from going thro' the rest of the

Ceremony: But the Steward being well versed in the Law, observed very

wisely upon this Occasion, that the breaking of the Rope does not

hinder the Execution of the Criminal.

'The fourth Lady upon Record was the Widow _Ogle_, a famous Coquette,

who had kept half a Score young Fellows off and on for the Space of

two Years; but having been more kind to her Carter _John_, she was

introduced with the Huzza's of all her Lovers about her.

'Mrs. _Sable_ appearing in her Weeds, which were very new and fresh,

and of the same Colour with her whimsical _Palfrey_, made a very

decent Figure in the Solemnity.

'Another, who had been summoned to make her Appearance, was excused by

the Steward, as well knowing in his Heart, that the good Squire

himself had qualified her for the Ram.

'Mrs. _Quick_ having nothing to object against the Indictment, pleaded

her Belly. But it was remembred that she made the same Excuse the Year

before. Upon which the Steward observ'd, that she might so contrive

it, as never to do the Service of the Manor.

'The Widow _Fidget_ being cited into Court, insisted that she had done

no more since the Death of her Husband, than what she used to do in

his Life-time; and withal desir'd Mr. Steward to consider his own

Wife's Case, if he should chance to die before her.

'The next in order was a Dowager of a very corpulent Make, who would

have been excused as not finding any Ram that was able to carry her;

upon which the Steward commuted her Punishment, and ordered her to

make her Entry upon a black Ox.

'The Widow _Maskwell_, a Woman who had long lived with a most

unblemished Character, having turned off her old Chamber-maid in a

Pet, was by that revengeful Creature brought in upon the black Ram

Nine times the same Day.

'Several Widows of the Neighbourhood, being brought upon their Tryal,

they shewed that they did not hold of the Manor, and were discharged

accordingly.

'A pretty young Creature who closed the Procession, came ambling in,

with so bewitching an Air, that the Steward was observ'd to cast a

Sheep's Eye upon her, and married her within a Month after the Death

of his Wife.

'_N. B._ Mrs. _Touchwood_ appeared, according to Summons, but had

nothing laid to her Charge; having liv'd irreproachably since the

Decease of her Husband, who left her a Widow in the Sixty-ninth Year

of her Age.'

_I am, SIR_, &c.

[Footnote 1: See note to No. 608.]

[Footnote 2: See Nos. 591, 602, 605, 614, and 625.]

[Footnote 3: Then the 11th, now the 22nd of June, longest day of the

year.]

* * * * *

No. 624. Wednesday, November 24, 1714.

'Audire, atque togam jubeo componere, quisquis

Ambitione mala, aut argenti pallet amore

Quisquis luxuria--'

Hor.

Mankind is divided into two Parts, the Busie and the Idle. The Busie

World may be divided into the Virtuous and the Vicious. The Vicious

again into the Covetous, the Ambitious, and the Sensual. The idle Part

of Mankind are in a State inferior to any one of these. All the other

are engaged in the Pursuit of Happiness, though often misplaced, and are

therefore more likely to be attentive to such Means, as shall be

proposed to them for that End. The Idle, who are neither wise for this

World, nor the next, are emphatically called by Dr. _Tillotson_, _Fools

at large_. They propose to themselves no End, but run adrift with every

Wind. Advice therefore would be but thrown away upon them, since they

would scarce take the Pains to read it. I shall not fatigue any of this

worthless Tribe with a long Harangue; but will leave them with this

short Saying of _Plato_, that _Labour is preferable to Idleness, as

Brightness to Rust_.

The Pursuits of the Active Part of Mankind, are either in the Paths of

Religion and Virtue; or, on the other Hand, in the Roads to Wealth,

Honours or Pleasure. I shall therefore compare the Pursuits of Avarice,

Ambition and sensual Delight, with their opposite Virtues; and shall

consider which of these Principles engages Men in a Course of the

greatest Labour, Suffering and Assiduity. Most Men, in their cool

Reasonings, are willing to allow that a Course of Virtue will in the End

be rewarded the most amply; but represent the Way to it as rugged and

narrow. If therefore it can be made appear, that Men struggle through as

many Troubles to be miserable, as they do to be happy, my Readers may

perhaps be perswaded to be Good, when they find they shall lose nothing

by it.

_First_, for Avarice. The Miser is more Industrious than the Saint: The

Pains of getting, the Fears of losing, and the Inability of enjoying his

Wealth, have been the Mark of Satyr in all Ages. Were his Repentance

upon his Neglect of a good Bargain, his Sorrow for being over-reached,

his Hope of improving a Sum, and his Fear of falling into Want, directed

to their proper Objects; they would make so many different _Christian_

Graces and Virtues. He may apply to himself a great Part of St. _Paul's_

Catalogue of Sufferings. _In journeying often; in Perils of Water, in

Perils of Robbers, in Perils among false Brethren. In Weariness and

Painfulness, in Watchings often, in Hunger and Thirst, in Fastings

often_,--At how much less Expence might he _lay up to himself Treasures

in Heaven_; or if I may, in this Place, be allowed to add the Saying of

a great Philosopher, he may _provide such Possessions, as fear neither

Arms, nor Men, nor_ Jove _himself_.

In the second Place, if we look upon the Toils of Ambition, in the same

Light as we have considered those of Avarice, we shall readily own that

far less Trouble is requisite to gain lasting Glory, than the Power and

Reputation of a few Years; or, in other Words, we may with more Ease

deserve Honour, than obtain it. The Ambitious Man should remember

Cardinal _Woolsey's_ Complaint.

'Had I served God, with the same Application, wherewith I served my

King, he would not have forsaken me in my old Age.'

The Cardinal here softens his Ambition by the specious Pretence of

_serving his King_: Whereas his Words in the proper Construction, imply,

that if instead of being acted by Ambition, he had been acted by

Religion, he should have now felt the Comforts of it, when the whole

World turned its Back upon him.

_Thirdly,_ Let us compare the Pains of the Sensual, with those of the

Virtuous, and see which are heavier in the Balance. It may seem strange,

at the first View, that the Men of Pleasure should be advised to change

their Course, because they lead a painful Life. Yet when we see them so

active and vigilant in quest of Delight; under so many Disquiets, and

the Sport of such various Passions; let them answer, as they can, if the

Pains they undergo, do not outweigh their Enjoyments. The Infidelities

on the one Part between the two Sexes, and the Caprices on the other,

the Debasement of Reason, the Pangs of Expectation, the Disappointments

in Possession, the Stings of Remorse, the Vanities and Vexations

attending even the most refined Delights that make up this Business of

Life, render it so silly and uncomfortable, that no Man is thought wise

till he hath got over it, or happy, but in proportion as he hath cleared

himself from it.

The Sum of all is this. Man is made an active Being. Whether he walks in

the Paths of Virtue or Vice, he is sure to meet with many Difficulties

to prove his Patience, and excite his Industry. The same if not greater

Labour, is required in the Service of Vice and Folly, as of Virtue and

Wisdom: And he hath this easie Choice left him, whether with the

Strength he is Master of, he will purchase Happiness or Repentance.

* * * * *

No. 625. Friday, November 26, 1714.

'--amores

A tenero meditatur Ungui--'

Hor.

The _Love Casuist_ hath referred to me the following Letter of Queries,

with his Answers to each Question, for my Approbation. I have

accordingly consider'd the several Matters therein contained, and hereby

confirm and ratifie his Answers, and require the gentle Querist to

conform her self thereunto.

_SIR_,

'I was Thirteen the Ninth of November last, and must now begin to

think of settling my self in the World, and so I would humbly beg your

Advice, what I must do with Mr. _Fondle_, who makes his Addresses to

me. He is a very pretty Man, and hath the blackest Eyes and whitest

Teeth you ever saw. Though he is but a younger Brother, he dresses

like a Man of Quality, and no Body comes into a Room like him. I know

he hath refused great Offers, and if he cannot Marry me, he will never

have any Body else. But my Father hath forbid him the House, because

he sent me a Copy of Verses; for he is one of the greatest Wits in

Town. My eldest Sister, who, with her good Will, would call me _Miss_

as long as I live, must be married before me, they say. She tells

them, that Mr. _Fondle_ makes a Fool of me, and will spoil the Child,

as she calls me, like a confident thing as she is. In short, I am

resolved to marry Mr. _Fondle_, if it be but to spite her. But because

I would do nothing that is imprudent, I beg of you to give me your

Answers to some Questions I will write down, and desire you to get

them printed in the SPECTATOR, and I do not doubt but you will give

such Advice, as, I am sure, I shall follow.

'When Mr. _Fondle_ looks upon me for half an Hour together, and calls

me _Angel_, is he not in Love?

Answer, No.

'May not I be certain he will be a kind Husband, that has promised me

half my Portion in Pin-money, and to keep me a Coach and Six in the

Bargain.

No.

'Whether I, who have been acquainted with him this whole Year almost,

am not a better Judge of his Merit, than my Father and Mother, who

never heard him talk, but at Table?

No.

'Whether I am not old enough to chuse for my self?

No.

'Whether it would not have been rude in me to refuse a Lock of his

Hair?

No.

'Shou'd not I be a very barbarous Creature, if I did not pity a Man

that is always Sighing for my Sake?

No.

'Whether you would not advise me to run away with the poor Man?

No.

'Whether you do not think, that if I won't have him, he won't drown

himself?

No.

What shall I say to him the next time he asks me if I will marry him?

No.

The following Letter requires neither Introduction, nor Answer.

_Mr_. SPECTATOR,

I wonder that in the present Situation of Affairs, you can take

Pleasure in writing any thing but News; for, in a Word, who minds any

thing else? The Pleasure of increasing in Knowledge, and learning

something new every Hour of Life, is the noblest Entertainment of a

Rational Creature. I have a very good Ear for a Secret, and am

naturally of a communicative Temper; by which Means I am capable of

doing you great Services in this way. In order to make my self useful,

I am early in the Antichamber, where I thrust my Head into the thick

of the Press, and catch the News, at the opening of the Door, while it

is warm. Sometimes I stand by the Beef-Eaters, and take the Buz as it

passes by me. At other times I lay my Ear close to the Wall, and suck

in many a valuable Whisper, as it runs in a streight Line from Corner

to Corner. When I am weary with standing, I repair to one of the

neighbouring Coffee-houses, where I sit sometimes for a whole Day, and

have the News as it comes from Court fresh and fresh. In short, Sir, I

spare no Pains to know how the World goes. A Piece of News loses its

Flavour when it hath been an Hour in the Air. I love, if I may so

speak, to have it fresh from the Tree; and to convey it to my Friends

before it is faded. Accordingly my Expences in Coach-hire make no

small Article; which you may believe, when I assure you, that I post

away from Coffee-house to Coffee-house, and forestall the

_Evening-Post_ by two Hours. There is a certain Gentleman who hath

given me the slip twice or thrice, and hath been beforehand with me at

_Child's_. But I have play'd him a Trick. I have purchas'd a pair of

the best Coach-horses I could buy for Money, and now let him out-strip

me if he can. Once more, Mr. SPECTATOR, let me advise you to deal in

News. You may depend upon my Assistance. But I must break off

abruptly, for I have twenty Letters to write.

_Yours in haste_,

Tho. Quid-nunc.

* * * * *

No. 626. Monday, November 29, 1714. Henry Grove.

'--Dulcique animos novitate tenebo--'

Ov. Met. 1. I.

I have seen a little Work of a learned Man, [1] consisting of

extemporary Speculations, which owed their Birth to the most trifling

Occurrences of Life. His usual Method was, to write down any sudden

Start of Thought which arose in his Mind upon the sight of an odd

Gesticulation in a Man, any whimsical Mimickry of Reason in a Beast, or

whatever appeared remarkable in any Object of the visible Creation. He

was able to moralize upon a Snuff-Box, would flourish eloquently upon a

Tucker or a Pair of Ruffles, and draw practical Inferences from a

full-bottomed Perriwig. This I thought fit to mention, by way of Excuse,

for my ingenious Correspondent, who hath introduced the following Letter

by an Image which, I will beg leave to tell him, is too ridiculous in so

serious and noble a Speculation.

_Mr_. SPECTATOR,

'When I have seen young Puss playing her wanton Gambols, and with a

thousand antick Shapes express her own Gayety at the same time that

she moved mine, while the old Grannum hath sat by with a most

exemplary Gravity, unmov'd at all that past; it hath made me reflect

what should be the occasion of Humours so opposite in two Creatures,

between whom there was no visible Difference but that of Age; and I

have been able to resolve it into nothing else but _the Force of

Novelty_.

'In every Species of Creatures, those who have been least Time in the

World, appear best pleased with their Condition: For, besides that to

a new Comer the World hath a Freshness on it that strikes the Sense

after a most agreeable Manner, _Being_ it self, unattended with any

great Variety of Enjoyments, excites a Sensation of Pleasure. But as

Age advances, every thing seems to wither, the Senses are disgusted

with their old Entertainments, and Existence turns flat and insipid.

We may see this exemplified in Mankind: The Child, let him be free

from Pain, and gratified in his Change of Toys, is diverted with the

smallest Trifle. Nothing disturbs the Mirth of the Boy, but a little

Punishment or Confinement. The Youth must have more violent Pleasures

to employ his Time; the Man loves the Hurry of an active Life, devoted

to the Pursuits of Wealth or Ambition; and Lastly, old Age, having

lost its Capacity for these Avocations, becomes its own insupportable

Burthen. This Variety may in part be accounted for by the Vivacity and

Decay of the Faculties; but I believe is chiefly owing to this, That

the longer we have been in Possession of Being, the less sensible is

the Gust we have of it; and the more it requires of adventitious

Amusements to relieve us from the Satiety and Weariness it brings

along with it.

'And as Novelty is of a very powerful, so of a most extensive

influence. Moralists have long since observed it to be the Source of

Admiration, which lessens in proportion to our Familiarity with

Objects, and upon a thorough Acquaintance is utterly extinguished. But

I think it hath not been so commonly remarked, that all the other

Passions depend considerably on the same Circumstance. What is it but

Novelty that awakens Desire, enhances Delight, kindles Anger, provokes

Envy, inspires Horror? To this Cause we must ascribe it, that Love

languishes with Fruition, and Friendship it self is recommended by

Intervals of Absence: Hence Monsters, by use, are beheld without

loathing, and the most enchanting Beauty without Rapture. That Emotion

of the Spirits in which Passion consists, is usually the Effect of

Surprize, and as long as it continues, heightens the agreeable or

disagreeable Qualities of its Object; but as this Emotion ceases (and

it ceases with the Novelty) things appear in another Light, and

affects us even less than might be expected from their proper Energy,

for having moved us too much before.

'It may not be an useless Enquiry how far the Love of Novelty is the

unavoidable Growth of Nature, and in what Respects it is peculiarly

adapted to the present State. To me it seems impossible, that a

reasonable Creature should rest absolutely satisfied in any

Acquisitions whatever, without endeavouring farther; for after its

highest Improvements, the Mind hath an Idea of an Infinity of things

still behind worth knowing, to the Knowledge of which therefore it

cannot be indifferent; as by climbing up a Hill in the midst of a wide

Plain, a Man hath his Prospect enlarged, and, together with that, the

Bounds of his Desires. Upon this Account, I cannot think he detracts

from the State of the Blessed, who conceives them to be perpetually

employed in fresh Searches into Nature, and to Eternity advancing into

the fathomless Depths of the Divine Perfections. In this Thought there

is nothing but what doth Honour to these glorified Spirits; provided

still it be remembred, that their Desire of more proceeds not from

their disrelishing what they possess; and the Pleasure of a new

Enjoyment is not with them measured by its Novelty (which is a thing

merely foreign and accidental) but by its real intrinsick Value. After

an Acquaintance of many thousand Years with the Works of God, the

Beauty and Magnificence of the Creation fills them with the same

pleasing Wonder and profound Awe, which _Adam_ felt himself seized

with as he first opened his Eyes upon this glorious Scene. Truth

captivates with unborrowed Charms, and whatever hath once given

Satisfaction will always do it: In all which they have manifestly the

Advantage of us, who are so much govern'd by sickly and changeable

Appetites, that we can with the greatest Coldness behold the

stupendous Displays of Omnipotence, and be in Transports at the puny

Essays of humane Skill; throw aside Speculations of the sublimest

Nature and vastest Importance into some obscure Corner of the Mind, to

make Room for new Notions of no Consequence at all; are even tired of

Health, because not enlivened with alternate Pain, and prefer the

first Reading of an indifferent Author, to the second or third Perusal

of one whose Merit and Reputation are established.

Our being thus formed serves many useful Purposes in the present

State. It contributes not a little to the Advancement of Learning;

for, as _Cicero_ takes Notice, That which makes Men willing to undergo

the Fatigues of Philosophical Disquisitions, is not so much the

Greatness of Objects as their Novelty. It is not enough that there is

Field and Game for the Chace, and that the Understanding is prompted

with a restless Thirst of Knowledge, effectually to rouse the Soul,

sunk into the State of Sloth and Indolence; it is also necessary that

there be an uncommon Pleasure annexed to the first Appearance of Truth

in the Mind. This Pleasure being exquisite for the Time it lasts, but

transient, it hereby comes to pass that the Mind grows into an

Indifference to its former Notions, and passes on after new

Discoveries, in hope of repeating the Delight. It is with Knowledge as

with Wealth, the Pleasure of which lies more in making endless

Additions, than in taking a Review of our old Store. There are some

Inconveniencies that follow this Temper, if not guarded against,

particularly this, that through a too great Eagerness of something new

we are many times impatient of staying long enough upon a Question

that requires some time to resolve it, or, which is worse, perswade

our selves that we are Masters of the Subject before we are so, only

to be at the Liberty of going upon a fresh Scent; in Mr. _Lock's_

Words, _We see a little, presume a great deal, and so jump to the

Conclusion_.

'A farther Advantage of our Inclination for Novelty, as at present

circumstantiated, is, that it annihilates all the boasted Distinctions

among Mankind. Look not up with Envy to those above thee. Sounding

Titles, stately Buildings, fine Gardens, gilded Chariots, rich

Equipages, what are they? They dazzle every one but the Possessor: To

him that is accustomed to them they are cheap and regardless Things:

They supply him not with brighter Images, or more sublime

Satisfactions than the plain Man may have, whose small Estate will

just enable him to support the Charge of a simple unencumbered Life.

He enters heedless into his Rooms of State, as you or I do under our

poor Sheds. The noble Paintings and costly Furniture are lost on him;

he sees them not: As how can it be otherwise, when by Custom, a

Fabrick infinitely more grand and finish'd, that of the Universe,

stands unobserved by the Inhabitants, and the everlasting Lamps of

Heaven are lighted up in vain, for any Notice that Mortals take of

them? Thanks to indulgent Nature, which not only placed her Children

originally upon a Level, but still, by the Strength of this Principle,

in a great Measure preserves it, in spite of all the Care of a Man, to

introduce artificial Distinctions.

'To add no more, Is not this Fondness for Novelty, which makes us out

of Conceit with all we already have, a convincing Proof of a future

State? Either Man was made in vain, or this is not the only World he

was made for: For there cannot be a greater Instance of Vanity, than

that to which Man is liable, to be deluded from the Cradle to the

Grave with fleeting Shadows of Happiness. His Pleasures, and those not

considerable neither, die in the Possession, and fresh Enjoyments do

not rise fast enough to fill up half his Life with Satisfaction. When

I see Persons sick of themselves any longer than they are called away

by something that is of Force to chain down the present Thought; when

I see them hurry from Country to Town, and then from the Town back

again into the Country, continually shifting Postures, and placing

Life in all the different Lights they can think of; _Surely_, say I to

my self, _Life is vain, and the Man beyond Expression stupid or

prejudic'd, who from the Vanity of Life cannot gather, He is designed

for Immortality_.

[Footnote 1: Meditations, &c, by the Hon. Robert Boyle.]

* * * * *

No. 627. Wednesday, December 1, 1714.

'Tantum inter densas umbrosa cacumine fagos

Assidue veniebat; ibi hæc incondita solus

Montibus et Sylvis studio jactabat inani.'

Virg.

The following Account, which came to my Hands some time ago, may be no

disagreeable Entertainment to such of my Readers, as have tender Hearts

and nothing to do.

_Mr._ SPECTATOR,

'A Friend of mine died of a Feaver last Week, which he caught by

walking too late in a dewy Evening amongst his Reapers. I must inform

you that his greatest Pleasure was in Husbandry and Gardening. He had

some Humours which seemed inconsistent with that good Sense he was

otherwise Master of. His Uneasiness in the Company of Women was very

remarkable in a Man of such perfect Good-breeding, and his avoiding

one particular Walk in his Garden, where he had used to pass the

greatest Part of his Time, raised abundance of idle Conjectures in the

Village where he lived. Upon looking over his Papers we found out the

Reason, which he never intimated to his nearest Friends. He was, it

seems, a passionate Lover in his Youth, of which a large Parcel of

Letters he left behind him are a Witness. I send you a Copy of the

last he ever wrote upon that Subject, by which you will find that he

concealed the true Name of his Mistress under that of _Zelinda._

'A long Month's Absence would be insupportable to me, if the

Business I am employed in were not for the Service of my_ Zelinda_,

and of such a Nature as to place her every Moment in my Mind. I have

furnished the House exactly according to your Fancy, or, if you

please, my own; for I have long since learned to like nothing but

what you do. The Apartment designed for your Use is so exact a Copy

of that which you live in, that I often think my self in your House

when I step into it, but sigh when I find it without its proper

Inhabitant. You will have the most delicious Prospect from your

Closet-window that_ England _affords: I am sure I should think it

so, if the Landskip that shows such Variety did not at the same time

suggest to me the Greatness of the Space that lies between us.

'The Gardens are laid out very beautifully; I have dressed up every

Hedge in Woodbines, sprinkled Bowers and Arbours in every Corner,

and made a little Paradise round me; yet I am still like the first

Man in his Solitude, but half blest without a Partner in my

Happiness. I have directed one Walk to be made for two Persons,

where I promise ten thousand Satisfactions to my self in your

Conversation. I already take my Evening's Turn in it, and have worn

a Path upon the Edge of this little Alley, while I soothed my self

with the Thought of your walking by my Side. I have held many

imaginary Discourses with you in this Retirement; and when I have

been weary have sat down with you in the midst of a Row of

Jessamines. The many Expressions of Joy and Rapture I use in these

silent Conversations have made me for some Time the Talk of the

Parish; but a neighbouring young Fellow, who makes Love to the

Farmer's Daughter, hath found me out, and made my Case known to the

whole Neighbourhood.

'In planting of the Fruit-Trees I have not forgot the Peach you are

so fond of. I have made a Walk of Elms along the River Side, and

intend to sow all the Place about it with Cowslips, which I hope you

will like as well as that I have heard you talk of by your Father's

House in the Country.

'Oh!_ Zelinda, _What a Scheme of Delight have I drawn up in my

Imagination! What Day-Dreams do I indulge my self in! When will the

Six Weeks be at an End, that lye between me and my promised

Happiness?

'How could you break off so abruptly in your last, and tell me you

must go and dress for the Play? If you loved as I do, you would find

no more Company in a Crowd, than I have in my Solitude._

'I am, _&c._'

'On the Back of this Letter is written, in the Hand of the Deceased,

the following Piece of History.

Mem. _Having waited a whole Week for an Answer to this Letter, I

hurried to Town, where I found the Perfidious Creature married to my

Rival. I will bear it as becomes a Man, and endeavour to find out

Happiness for my self in that Retirement, which I had prepared in

vain for a false ungrateful Woman._

I am, _&c._

* * * * *

No. 628. Friday, December 3, 1714.

'Labitur et labetur in omne volubilis avum.'

Hor.

_Mr._ SPECTATOR,

'There are none of your Speculations which please me more than those

upon Infinitude and Eternity. [1] You have already considered that

Part of Eternity which is past, and I wish you would give us your

Thoughts upon that which is to come.

'Your Readers will perhaps receive greater Pleasure from this View of

Eternity than the former, since we have every one of us a Concern in

that which is to come: Whereas a Speculation on that which is past is

rather curious than useful.

'Besides, we can easily conceive it possible for successive Duration

never to have an End; tho', as you have justly observed, that Eternity

which never had a Beginning is altogether incomprehensible; That is,

we can conceive an Eternal Duration which _may be_, though we cannot

an Eternal Duration which _hath been_; or, if I may use the

Philosophical Terms, we may apprehend a _Potential_ though not an

_Actual_ Eternity.

'This Notion of a future Eternity, which is natural to the Mind of

Man, is an unanswerable Argument that he is a Being designed for it;

especially if we consider that he is capable of being Virtuous or

Vicious here; that he hath Faculties improvable to all Eternity, and

by a proper or wrong Employment of them, may be happy or miserable

throughout that infinite Duration. Our Idea indeed of this Eternity is

not of an adequate or fixed Nature, but is perpetually growing and

enlarging itself toward the Object, which is too big for human

Comprehension. As we are now in the Beginnings of Existence, so shall

we always appear to our selves as if we were for ever entring upon it.

After a Million or two of Centuries, some considerable Things, already

past, may slip out of our Memory; which, if it be not strengthened in

a wonderful Manner, may possibly forget that ever there was a Sun or

Planets. And yet, notwithstanding the long Race that we shall then

have run, we shall still imagine ourselves just starting from the

Goal, and find no Proportion between that Space which we know had a

Beginning, and what we are sure will never have an End.

'But I shall leave this Subject to your Management, and question not

but you will throw it into such Lights as shall at once improve and

entertain your Reader.

'I have enclos'd sent you a Translation [2] of the Speech of _Cato_ on

this Occasion, which hath accidentally fallen into my Hands, and which

for Conciseness, Purity, and Elegance of Phrase, cannot be

sufficiently admired.