'For mere Man, when giddy with unbridled Power, is an insatiate Idol, not to be appeased with Myriads offer'd to his Pride, which may be puffed up by the Adulation of a base and prostrate World, into an Opinion that he is something more than human, by being something less: And, alas, what is there that mortal Man will not believe of himself, when complimented with the Attributes of God? Can he then conceive Thoughts of a Power as Omnipresent as his! But should there be such a Foe of Mankind now upon Earth, have our Sins so far provoked Heaven, that we are left utterly naked to his Fury? Is there no Power, no Leader, no Genius, that can conduct and animate us to our Death or our Defence? Yes; our great God never gave one to feign by his Permission, but he gave to another also to reign by his Grace.

'All the Circumstances of the illustrious Life of our Prince, seem to have conspired to make him the Check and Bridle of Tyranny; for his Mind has been strengthened and confirmed by one continual Struggle, and Heaven has educated him by Adversity to a quick Sense of the Distresses and Miseries of Mankind, which he was born to redress: In just scorn of the trivial Glories and light Ostentations of Power, that glorious Instrument of Providence moves, like that, in a steddy, calm, and silent Course, independent either of Applause or Calumny; which renders him, if not in a political, yet in a moral, a philosophick, an heroick, and a Christian Sense, an absolute Monarch; who satisfy'd with this unchangeable, just, and ample Glory, must needs turn all his Regards from himself to the Service of others; for he begins his Enterprize with his own Share in the Success of them; for Integrity bears in it self its Reward, nor can that which depends not on Event ever know Disappointment.

'With the undoubted Character of a glorious Captain, and (what he much more values than the most splendid Titles) that of a sincere and honest Man, he is the Hope and Stay of Europe, an universal Good not to be engrossed by us only, for distant Potentates implore his Friendship, and injur'd Empires court his Assistance. He rules the World, not by an Invasion of the People of the Earth, but the Address of its Princes; and if that World should be again rous'd from the Repose which his prevailing Arms had given it, why should we not hope that there is an Almighty, by whose Influence the terrible Enemy that thinks himself prepar'd for Battel, may find he is but ripe for Destruction? and that there may be in the Womb of Time great Incidents, which may make the Catastrophe of a prosperous Life as unfortunate as the particular Scenes of it were successful? For there does not want a skilful Eye and resolute Arm to observe and grasp the Occasion: A Prince, who from [2]

'—Fuit Ilium et ingens Gloria—'

Virg.

T.



[Footnote 1: The extract is from very near the close of Steele's Christian Hero. At this part a few lines have been omitted. In the original the paragraph closed thus:

'... the Entertainment of it, and making their great Monarch the Fountain of all that's delicate and refined, and his Court the Model for Opinions in Pleasure, as well as the Pattern in Dress; which might prevail so far upon an undiscerning world as (to accomplish it or its approaching Slavery) to make it receive a superfluous Babble for an Universal Language.']

[Footnote 2: Here Steele abruptly breaks with 'Fuit Ilium'—the glory has departed—on the sentence:

'A Prince who from just Notion of his Duty to that Being to whom he must be accountable, has in the Service of his Fellow Creatures a noble Contempt of Pleasures, and Patience of Labours, to whom 'tis Hereditary to be the Guardian and Asserter of the native Rights and Liberties of Mankind;'

A few more clauses to the sentence formed the summary of William's character before the book closed with a prayer that Heaven would guard his important life.]



* * * * *



No. 517. Thursday, October 23, 1712. Addison.

'Heu Pietas! heu prisca Fides!'

Virg.



We last night received a Piece of ill News at our Club, which very sensibly afflicted every one of us. I question not but my Readers themselves will be troubled at the hearing of it. To keep them no longer in Suspence, Sir ROGER DE COVERLY is dead. [1] He departed this Life at his House in the Country, after a few Weeks Sickness. Sir ANDREW FREEPORT has a Letter from one of his Correspondents in those Parts, that informs him the old Man caught a Cold at the County-Sessions, as he was very warmly promoting an Address of his own penning, in which he succeeded according to his Wishes, But this Particular comes from a Whig-Justice of Peace, who was always Sir ROGER'S Enemy and Antagonist. I have Letters both from the Chaplain and Captain Sentry which mention nothing of it, but are filled with many Particulars to the Honour of the good old Man. I have likewise a Letter from the Butler, who took so much care of me last Summer when I was at the Knight's House. As my Friend the Butler mentions, in the Simplicity of his Heart, several Circumstances the others have passed over in Silence, I shall give my Reader a Copy of his Letter, without any Alteration or Diminution.

Honoured Sir,

'Knowing that you was my old Master's good Friend, I could not forbear sending you the melancholy News of his Death, which has afflicted the whole Country, as well as his poor Servants, who loved him, I may say, better than we did our Lives. I am afraid he caught his Death the last County Sessions, where he would go to see Justice done to a poor Widow Woman, and her Fatherless Children, that had been wronged by a neighbouring Gentleman; for you know, Sir, my good Master was always the poor Man's Friend. Upon his coming home, the first Complaint he made was, that he had lost his Roast-Beef Stomach, not being able to touch a Sirloin, which was served up according to Custom; and you know he used to take great Delight in it. From that time forward he grew worse and worse, but still kept a good Heart to the last. Indeed we were once in great [Hope [2]] of his Recovery, upon a kind Message that was sent him from the Widow Lady whom he had made love to the Forty last Years of his Life; but this only proved a Light'ning before Death. He has bequeathed to this Lady, as a token of his Love, a great Pearl Necklace, and a Couple of Silver Bracelets set with Jewels, which belonged to my good old Lady his Mother: He has bequeathed the fine white Gelding, that he used to ride a hunting upon, to his Chaplain, because he thought he would be kind to him, and has left you all his Books. He has, moreover, bequeathed to the Chaplain a very pretty Tenement with good Lands about it. It being a very cold Day when he made his Will, he left for Mourning, to every Man in the Parish, a great Frize-Coat, and to every Woman a black Riding-hood. It was a most moving Sight to see him take leave of his poor Servants, commending us all for our Fidelity, whilst we were not able to speak a Word for weeping. As we most of us are grown Gray-headed in our Dear Master's Service, he has left us Pensions and Legacies, which we may live very comfortably upon, the remaining part of our Days.

He has bequeath'd a great deal more in Charity, which is not yet come to my Knowledge, and it is peremptorily said in the Parish, that he has left Mony to build a Steeple to the Church; for he was heard to say some time ago, that if he lived two Years longer, Coverly Church should have a Steeple to it. The Chaplain tells every body that he made a very good End, and never speaks of him without Tears. He was buried according to his own Directions, among the Family of the Coverly's, on the Left Hand of his Father Sir Arthur. The Coffin was carried by Six of his Tenants, and the Pall held up by Six of the Quorum: The whole Parish follow'd the Corps with heavy Hearts, and in their Mourning Suits, the Men in Frize, and the Women in Riding-Hoods. Captain SENTRY, my Master's Nephew, has taken Possession of the Hall-House, and the whole Estate. When my old Master saw him a little before his Death, he shook him by the Hand, and wished him Joy of the Estate which was falling to him, desiring him only to make good Use of it, and to pay the several Legacies, and the Gifts of Charity which he told him he had left as Quitrents upon the Estate. The Captain truly seems a courteous Man, though he says but little. He makes much of those whom my Master loved, and shews great Kindness to the old House-dog, that you know my poor Master was so fond of. It would have gone to your Heart to have heard the Moans the dumb Creature made on the Day of my Master's Death. He has ne'er joyed himself since; no more has any of us. 'Twas the melancholiest Day for the poor People that ever happened in Worcestershire. This being all from,

_Honoured Sir,

Your most Sorrowful Servant_,

Edward Biscuit.

P. S. 'My Master desired, some Weeks before he died, that a Book which comes up to you by the Carrier should be given to Sir Andrew Freeport, in his Name.'

This Letter, notwithstanding the poor Butler's Manner of writing it, gave us such an Idea of our good old Friend, that upon the reading of it there was not a dry Eye in the Club. Sir Andrew opening the Book, found it to be a Collection of Acts of Parliament. There was in particular the Act of Uniformity, with some Passages in it marked by Sir Roger's own Hand. Sir Andrew found that they related to two or three Points, which he had disputed with Sir Roger the last time he appeared at the Club. Sir Andrew, who would have been merry at such an Incident on another Occasion, at the sight of the old Man's Hand-writing burst into Tears, and put the Book into his Pocket. Captain Sentry informs me, that the Knight has left Rings and Mourning for every one in the Club.

O.



[Footnote 1: In No. 1 of the Bee (for February, 1733) Eustace Budgell, who set up that publication, and who probably was the intimate friend of Addison's to whom he there refers, said of Sir Roger de Coverley,

'Mr. Addison was so fond of this character that a little before he laid down the Spectator (foreseeing that some nimble gentleman would catch up his pen the moment he quitted it) he said to an intimate friend, with a certain warmth in his expression which he was not often guilty of, By God, I'll kill Sir Roger, that nobody else may murder him.'

Accordingly the whole Spectator No. 517 consists of nothing but an account of the old knight's death, and some moving circumstances which attended it. Steele had by this date resolved on bringing his Spectator to a close, and Addison's paper on the death of Sir Roger, the first of several which are to dispose of all members of the Spectator's Club and break up the Club itself, was the first clear warning to the public that he had such an intention.]

[Footnote 2: [Hopes]]



* * * * *



No. 518. Friday, October 24, 1712. Steele [1]



'—Miserum est alienae incumbere famae, Ne collapsa ruant subductis tecta columnis.'

Juv.



This being a Day of Business with me, I must make the present Entertainment like a Treat at an House-warming, out of such Presents as have been sent me by my Guests. The first Dish which I serve up is a Letter come fresh to my Hand.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

It is with inexpressible Sorrow that I hear of the Death of good Sir Roger, and do heartily condole with you upon so melancholy an Occasion. I think you ought to have blacken'd the Edges of a Paper which brought us so ill News, and to have had it stamped likewise in Black. It is expected of you that you should write his Epitaph, and, if possible, fill his Place in the Club with as worthy and diverting a Member. I question not but you will receive many Recommendations from the publick of such as will appear Candidates for that Post.

Since I am talking of Death, and have mentioned an Epitaph, I must tell you, Sir, that I have made discovery of a Church-Yard in which I believe you might spend an Afternoon, with great Pleasure to your self and to the Publick: It. belongs to the Church of Stebon-Heath, commonly called Stepney. Whether or no it be that the People of that Parish have a particular Genius for an Epitaph, or that there be some Poet among them who undertakes that Work by the Great, I can't tell; but there are more remarkable Inscriptions in that place than in any other I have met with, and I may say without Vanity, that there is not a Gentleman in England better read in Tomb-stones than my self, my Studies having laid very much in Church-yards. I shall beg leave to send you a Couple of Epitaphs, for a Sample of those I have just now mentioned. They are written in a different manner; the first being in the diffused and luxuriant, the second in the close contracted Style. The first has much of the Simple and Pathetick; the second is something Light, but Nervous. The first is thus:

'Here Thomas Sapper lyes interred. Ah why! Born in New England, did in London dye; Was the third Son of Eight, begot upon His Mother Martha by his Father John. Much favoured by his Prince he 'gan to be, But nipt by Death at th' Age of Twenty Three. Fatal to him was that we Small-pox name, By which his Mother and two Brethren came Also to breathe their last nine Years before, And now have left their Father to deplore The loss of all his Children, with his Wife, Who was the Joy and Comfort of his Life.'

The Second is as follows:

'Here lies the Body of Daniel Saul, Spittle-fields Weaver, and that's all.'

'I will not dismiss you, whilst I am upon this Subject, without sending a short Epitaph which I once met with, though I cannot possibly recollect the Place. The Thought of it is serious, and in my Opinion, the finest that I ever met with upon this Occasion. You know, Sir, it is usual, after having told us the Name of the Person who lies interr'd to lanch out into his Praises. This Epitaph takes a quite contrary Turn, having been made by the Person himself some time before his Death.

'Hic jacet R. C. in expectatione diei supremi. Qualis erat dies iste indicabit.' [2]

Here lieth R. C. in expectation of the last Day. What sort of a Man he was, that Day will discover.

I am, SIR, &c.



The following Letter is dated from Cambridge. [3]

SIR,

'Having lately read among your Speculations, an Essay upon Phisiognomy, I cannot but think that if you made a Visit to this ancient University, you might receive very considerable Lights upon that Subject, there being scarce a young Fellow in it who does not give certain Indications of his particular Humour and Disposition conformable to the Rules of that Art. In Courts and Cities every body lays a Constraint upon his Countenance, and endeavours to look like the rest of the World; but the Youth of this Place, having not yet formed themselves by Conversation, and the Knowledge of the World, give their Limbs and Features their full Play.

'As you have considered Human Nature in all its Lights, you must be extremely well apprized, that there is a very close Correspondence between the outward and the inward Man; that scarce the least Dawning, the least Parturiency towards a Thought can be stirring in the Mind of Man, without producing a suitable Revolution in his Exteriors, which will easily discover it self to an Adept in the Theory of the Phiz. Hence it is, that the intrinsick Worth and Merit of a Son of Alma Mater is ordinarily calculated from the Cast of his Visage, the Contour of his Person, the Mechanism of his Dress, the Disposition of his Limbs, the Manner of his Gate and Air, with a number of Circumstances of equal Consequence and Information: The Practitioners in this Art often make use of a Gentleman's Eyes to give 'em Light into the Posture of his Brains; take a Handle from his Nose, to judge of the Size of his Intellects; and interpret the over-much Visibility and Pertness of one Ear, as an infallible mark of Reprobation, and a Sign the Owner of so saucy a Member fears neither God nor Man. In conformity to this Scheme, a contracted Brow, a lumpish down-cast Look, a sober sedate Pace, with both Hands dangling quiet and steddy in Lines exactly parallel to each Lateral Pocket of the Galligaskins, is Logick, Metaphysicks and Mathematicks in Perfection. So likewise the Belles Lettres are typified by a Saunter in the Gate; a Fall of one Wing of the Peruke backward, an Insertion of one Hand in the Fobb, and a negligent Swing of the other, with a Pinch of right and fine Barcelona between Finger and Thumb, a due Quantity of the same upon the upper Lip, and a Noddle-Case loaden with Pulvil. Again, a grave solemn stalking Pace is Heroick Poetry, and Politicks; an Unequal one, a Genius for the Ode, and the modern Ballad: and an open Breast, with an audacious Display of the Holland Shirt, is construed a fatal Tendency to the Art Military.

'I might be much larger upon these Hints, but I know whom I write to. If you can graft any Speculation upon them, or turn them to the Advantage of the Persons concerned in them, you will do a Work very becoming the British Spectator, and oblige'

Your very Humble Servant,

Tom. Tweer.



[Footnote 1: Of the two letters which form this number the second is by John Henley, known afterwards as 'Orator Henley,' of whom see a note to No. 396.]

[Footnote 2: The European Magazine for July, 1787, says that the exact copy of this Epitaph, which is on a Thomas Crouch, who died in 1679, runs thus:

Aperiet Deus tumulos et educet nos de sepulchris Qualis eram, dies isti haec cum venerit, scies..]

[Footnote 3: By John Henley.]



* * * * *



No. 519. Saturday, October 25, 1712. Addison.



'Inde Hominum pecudumque genus, vitaeque volantum, Et quae marmoreo fert Monstra sub aequore pontus.'

Virg.

Though there is a great deal of Pleasure in contemplating the material World, by which I mean that System of Bodies into which Nature has so curiously wrought the Mass of dead Matter, with the several Relations which those Bodies bear to one another; there is still, methinks, something more wonderful and surprizing in Contemplations on the World of Life, by which I mean all those Animals with which every Part of the Universe is furnished. The Material World is only the Shell of the Universe: The World of Life are its Inhabitants.

If we consider those parts of the Material World which lie the nearest to us, and are therefore subject to our Observations and Enquiries, it is amazing to consider the Infinity of Animals with which it is stocked. Every part of Matter is peopled: Every green Leaf swarms with Inhabitants. There is scarce a single Humour in the Body of a Man, or of any other Animal, in which our Glasses do not discover Myriads of living Creatures. The Surface of Animals is also covered with other Animals, which are in the same manner the Basis of other Animals, that live upon it; nay, we find in the most solid Bodies, as in Marble it self, innumerable Cells and Cavities that are crouded with such imperceptible Inhabitants, as are too little for the naked Eye to discover. On the other hand, if we look into the more bulky parts of Nature, we see the Seas, Lakes and Rivers teeming with numberless kinds of living Creatures: We find every Mountain and Marsh, Wilderness and Wood, plentifully stocked with Birds and Beasts, and every part of Matter affording proper Necessaries and Conveniencies for the Livelihood of Multitudes which inhabit it.

The Author of the Plurality of Worlds [1] draws a very good Argument from this Consideration, for the peopling of every Planet; as indeed it seems very probable from the Analogy of Reason, that if no Part of Matter, which we are acquainted with, lies waste and useless, those great Bodies which are at such a Distance from us should not be desart and unpeopled, but rather that they should be furnished with Beings adapted to their respective Situations.

Existence is a Blessing to those Beings only which are endowed with Perception, and is in a manner thrown away upon dead Matter, any further than as it is subservient to Beings which are conscious of their Existence. Accordingly we find, from the Bodies which lie under our Observation, that Matter is only made as the Basis and Support of Animals, and that there is no more of the one, than what is necessary for the Existence of the other.

Infinite Goodness is of so communicative a nature, that it seems to delight in the conferring of Existence upon every Degree of [Perceptive [2]] Being. As this is a Speculation, which I have often pursued with great Pleasure to my self, I shall enlarge farther upon it, by considering that part of the Scale of Beings which comes within our Knowledge.

There are some living Creatures which are raised but just above dead Matter. To mention only that Species of Shell-fish, which are form'd in the Fashion of a Cone, that grow to the Surface of several Rocks, and immediately die upon their being sever'd from the Place where they grow. There are many other Creatures but one Remove from these, which have no other Sense besides that of Feeling and Taste. Others have still an additional one of Hearing; others of Smell, and others of Sight. It is wonderful to observe, by what a gradual Progress the World of Life advances through a prodigious Variety of Species, before a Creature is form'd that is compleat in all its Senses; and even among these there is such a different Degree of Perfection in the Sense which one Animal enjoys beyond what appears in another, that though the Sense in different Animals be distinguished by the same common Denomination, it seems almost of a different Nature. If after this we look into the several inward Perfections of Cunning and Sagacity, or what we generally call Instinct, we find them rising after the same Manner, imperceptibly one above another, and receiving additional Improvements, according to the Species in which they are implanted. This Progress in Nature is so very gradual, that the most perfect of an inferior Species comes very near to the most imperfect of that which is immediately above it.

The exuberant and overflowing Goodness of the Supreme Being, whose Mercy extends to all his Works, is plainly seen, as I have before hinted, from his having made so very little Matter, at least what falls within our Knowledge, that does not swarm with Life: Nor is his Goodness less seen in the Diversity, than in the Multitude of living Creatures. Had he only made one Species of Animals, none of the rest would have enjoyed the Happiness of Existence; he has, therefore, specified in his Creation every degree of Life, every Capacity of Being. The whole Chasm in Nature, from a Plant to a Man, is filled up with diverse Kinds of Creatures, rising one over another, by such a gentle and easy Ascent, that the little Transitions and Deviations from one Species to another, are almost insensible. This intermediate Space is so well husbanded and managed, that there is scarce a degree of Perception which does not appear in some one part of the World of Life. Is the Goodness, or Wisdom of the divine Being, more manifested in this his Proceeding?

There is a Consequence, besides those I have already mentioned, which seems very naturally deducible from the foregoing Considerations. If the Scale of Being rises by such a regular Progress, so high as Man, we may by a parity of Reason suppose that it still proceeds gradually through those Beings which are of a Superior Nature to him; since there is an infinitely greater space and room for different Degrees of Perfection, between the Supreme Being and Man, than between Man and the most despicable Insect. This Consequence of so great a variety of Beings which are superior to us, from that variety which is inferior to us, is made by Mr. Lock, in a Passage which I shall here set down, after having premised, that notwithstanding there is such infinite room between Man and his Maker for the Creative Power to exert it self in, it is impossible that it should ever be filled up, since there will be still an infinite Gap or Distance between the highest created Being, and the Power which produced him.

That there should be more Species of intelligent Creatures above us, than there are of sensible and material below us, is probable to me from hence; That in all the visible corporeal World, we see no Chasms, or no Gaps. All quite down from us, the descent is by easy steps, and a continued Series of things, that in each remove differ very little one from the other. There are Fishes that have Wings, and are not Strangers to the airy Region: and there are some Birds, that are Inhabitants of the Water; whose Blood is cold as Fishes, and their Flesh so like in taste, that the Scrupulous are allowed them on Fish-days. There are Animals so near of kin both to Birds and Beasts, that they are in the middle between both: Amphibious Animals link the Terrestrial and Aquatick together; Seals live at Land and at Sea, and Porpoises have the warm Blood and Entrails of a Hog; not to mention what is confidently reported of Mermaids or Sea-Men. There are some Brutes, that seem to have as much Knowledge and Reason, as some that are called Men; and the Animal and Vegetable Kingdoms are so nearly join'd, that if you will take the lowest of one, and the highest of the other, there will scarce be perceived any great difference between them: and so on till we come to the lowest and the most inorganical parts of Matter, we shall find every where that the several Species are linked together, and differ but in almost insensible degrees. And when we consider the infinite Power and Wisdom of the Maker, we have reason to think that it is suitable to the magnificent Harmony of the Universe, and the great Design and infinite Goodness of the Architect, that the Species of Creatures should also, by gentle degrees, ascend upward from us towards his infinite Perfection, as we see they gradually descend from us downwards: Which if it be probable, we have reason then to be persuaded, that there are far more Species of Creatures above us, than there are beneath; we being in degrees of Perfection much more remote from the infinite Being of God, than we are from the lowest State of Being, and that which approaches nearest to nothing. And yet of all those distinct Species, we have no clear distinct Ideas. [3]

In this System of Being, there is no Creature so wonderful in its Nature, and which so much deserves our particular Attention, as Man, who fills up the middle Space between the Animal and Intellectual Nature, the visible and invisible World, and is that Link in the Chain of Beings, which has been often termed the nexus utriusque Mundi. So that he who in one respect is associated with Angels and Arch-Angels, may look upon a Being of infinitei Perfection as his Father, and the highest Order of Spirits as his Brethren, may in another respect say to Corruption, thou art my Father, and to the Worm, thou art my Mother and my Sister. [4]



[Footnote 1: Fontenelle, Entretiens sur la Pluralite des Mondes. Troisieme Soir.]

[Footnote 2: [Preceptive] and in first reprint.]

[Footnote 3: Essay concerning Human Understanding, Bk. III. ch. vi. Sec. 12.]

[Footnote 4: Job. xvii. 14.]



* * * * *



No. 520. Monday, October 27, 1712. Francham. [1]



'Quis desiderio sit pudor aut modus Tant chari capitis!'

Hor.



Mr. SPECTATOR,

'The just Value you have expressed for the Matrimonial State, is the Reason that I now venture to write to you, without Fear of being ridiculous; and confess to you, that though it is three Months since I lost a very agreeable Woman, who was my Wife, my Sorrow is still fresh; and I am often, in the midst of Company, upon any Circumstance that revives her Memory, with a Reflection what she would say or do on such an Occasion: I say, upon any Occurrence of that Nature, which I can give you a Sense of, though I cannot express it wholly, I am all over Softness, and am obliged to retire, and give Way to a few Sighs and Tears, before I can be easy. I cannot but recommend the Subject of Male Widowhood to you, and beg of you to touch upon it by the first Opportunity. To those who have not lived like Husbands during the Lives of their Spouses, this would be a tasteless Jumble of Words; but to such (of whom there are not a few) who have enjoyed that State with the Sentiments proper for it, you will have every Line, which hits the Sorrow, attended with a Tear of Pity and Consolation. For I know not by what Goodness of Providence it is, that every Gush of Passion is a step towards the Relief of it; and there is a certain Comfort in the very Act of Sorrowing, which, I suppose, arises from a secret Consciousness in the Mind, that the Affliction it is under flows from a virtuous Cause. My Concern is not indeed so outragious as at the first Transport; for I think it has subsided rather into a soberer State of Mind, than any actual Perturbation of Spirit. There might be Rules formed for Men's Behaviour on this great Incident, to bring them from that Misfortune into the Condition I am at present; which is, I think, that my Sorrow has converted all Roughness of Temper into Meekness, Good-nature, and Complacency: But indeed, when in a serious and lonely Hour I present my departed Consort to my Imagination, with that Air of Perswasion in her Countenance when I have been in Passion, that sweet Affability when I have been in good Humour, that tender Compassion when I have had any thing which gave me Uneasiness; I confess to you I am inconsolable, and my Eyes gush with Grief as if I had seen her but just then expire. In this Condition I am broken in upon by a charming young Woman, my Daughter, who is the Picture of what her Mother was on her Wedding-Day. The good Girl strives to comfort me; but how shall I let you know that all the Comfort she gives me is to make my Tears flow more easily? The Child knows she quickens my Sorrows, and rejoices my Heart at the same Time. Oh, ye Learned! tell me by what Word to speak a Motion of the Soul, for which there is no name. When she kneels and bids me be comforted, she is my Child; when I take her in my Arms, and bid her say no more, she is my very Wife, and is the very Comforter I lament the Loss of. I banish her the Room, and weep aloud that I have lost her Mother, and that I have her.

'Mr. SPECTATOR, I wish it were possible for you to have a Sense of these pleasing Perplexities; you might communicate to the guilty part of Mankind, that they are incapable of the Happiness which is in the very Sorrows of the Virtuous.

'But pray spare me a little longer; give me Leave to tell you the Manner of her Death. She took leave of all her Family, and bore the vain Application of Medicines with the greatest Patience imaginable. When the Physician told her she must certainly die, she desired, as well as she could, that all who were present, except my self, might depart the Room. She said she had nothing to say, for she was resigned, and I knew all she knew that concerned us in this World; but she desired to be alone, that in the presence of God only she might, without Interruption, do her last Duty to me, of thanking me for all my Kindness to her; adding, that she hoped in my last Moments I should feel the same Comfort for my Goodness to her, as she did in that she had acquitted herself with Honour, Truth and Virtue to me.

'I curb my self, and will not tell you that this Kindness cut my Heart in twain, when I expected an Accusation for some passionate Starts of mine, in some Parts of our Time together, to say nothing, but thank me for the Good, if there was any Good suitable to her own Excellence! All that I had ever said to her, all the Circumstances of Sorrow and Joy between us, crowded upon my Mind in the same Instant; and when immediately after I saw the Pangs of Death come upon that dear Body which I had often embraced with Transport, when I saw those cherishing Eyes begin to be ghastly, and their last Struggle to be to fix themselves on me, how did I lose all patience? She expired in my Arms, and in my Distraction I thought I saw her Bosom still heave. There was certainly Life yet still left; I cried she just now spoke to me: But alas! I grew giddy, and all things moved about me from the Distemper of my own Head; for the best of Women was breathless, and gone for ever.

'Now the Doctrine I would, methinks, have you raise from this Account I have given you is, That there is a certain Equanimity in those who are good and just, which runs into their very Sorrow, and disappoints the Force of it. Though they must pass through Afflictions in common with all who are in human Nature, yet their conscious Integrity shall undermine their Affliction; nay, that very Affliction shall add Force to their Integrity, from a Reflection of the Use of Virtue in the Hour of Affliction. I sat down with a Design to put you upon giving us Rules how to overcome such Griefs as these, but I should rather advise you to teach Men to be capable of them.

'You Men of Letters have what you call the fine Taste in their Apprehensions of what is properly done or said: There is something like this deeply grafted in the Soul of him who is honest and faithful in all his Thoughts and Actions. Every thing which is false, vicious or unworthy, is despicable to him, though all the World should approve it. At the same time he has the most lively Sensibility in all Enjoyments and Sufferings which it is proper for him to have, where any Duty of Life is concerned. To want Sorrow when you in Decency and Truth should be afflicted, is, I should think, a greater Instance of a Man's being a Blockhead, than not to know the Beauty of any Passage in Virgil. You have not yet observed, Mr. SPECTATOR, that the fine Gentlemen of this Age set up for Hardness of Heart, and Humanity has very little share in their Pretences. He is a brave Fellow who is always ready to kill a Man he hates, but he does not stand in the same Degree of Esteem who laments for the Woman he loves. I should fancy you might work up a thousand pretty Thoughts, by reflecting upon the Persons most susceptible of the sort of Sorrow I have spoken of; and I dare say you will find upon Examination, that they are the wisest and the bravest of Mankind who are most capable of it.

_I am,

SIR,

Your most humble Servant,

F. J.

Norwich,

7 deg. Octobris,

1712.

T.



[Footnote 1: The Mr. Francham who wrote this letter was of Norwich, whence it is dated.]



* * * * *



No. 521. Tuesday, October 28, 1712. Steele.



'Vera redit facies, dissimulata perit.'

P. Arb.



Mr. SPECTATOR,

I have been for many Years loud in this Assertion, That there are very few that can see or hear, I mean that can report what they have seen or heard; and this thro' Incapacity or Prejudice, one of which disables almost every Man who talks to you from representing things as he ought. For which Reason I am come to a Resolution of believing nothing I hear; and I contemn the Men given to Narration under the Appellation of a Matter of Fact Man: And according to me, a Matter of Fact Man is one whose Life and Conversation is spent in the Report of what is not Matter of Fact.

I remember when Prince Eugene was here, there was no knowing his Height or Figure, till you, Mr. SPECTATOR, gave the Publick Satisfaction in that Matter. In Relations, the Force of the Expression lies very often more in the Look, the Tone of Voice, or the Gesture, than the Words themselves; which being repeated in any other Manner by the Undiscerning, bear a very different Interpretation from their original Meaning. I must confess, I formerly have turn'd this Humour of mine to very good Account; for whenever I heard any Narration utter'd with extraordinary vehemence, and grounded upon considerable Authority, I was always ready to lay any Wager that it was not so. Indeed I never pretended to be so rash, as to fix the Matter in any particular Way in Opposition to theirs; but as there are a hundred Ways of any thing happening, besides that it has happen'd, I only controverted its falling out in that one Manner as they settled it, and left it to the Ninety nine other Ways, and consequently had more Probability of Success. I had arrived at a particular skill in warming a Man so far in his Narration, as to make him throw in a little of the Marvelous, and then, if he has much Fire, the next Degree is the Impossible. Now this is always the Time for fixing the Wager. But this requires the nicest Management, otherwise very probably the Dispute may arise to the old Determination by Battle. In these Conceits I have been very fortunate, and have won some Wagers of those who have professedly valued themselves upon Intelligence, and have put themselves to great Charge and Expence to be misinformed considerably sooner than the Rest of the World.

Having got a comfortable Sum by this my Opposition to publick Report, I have brought my self now to so great a Perfection in Inattention, more especially to Party Relations, that at the same time I seem with greedy Ears to devour up the Discourse, I certainly don't know one Word of it, but pursue my own Course of Thought, whether upon Business or Amusement, with much Tranquility: I say Inattention, because a late Act of Parliament has secur'd all Party-Lyars from the Penalty of a Wager, [1] and consequently made it unprofitable to attend them. However, good Breeding obliges a Man to maintain the Figure of the keenest Attention, the true Posture of which in a Coffee-house I take to consist in leaning over a Table, with the Edge of it pressing hard upon your Stomach; for the more Pain the Narration is received with, the more gracious is your bending over: Besides that the Narrator thinks you forget your Pain by the Pleasure of hearing him.

Fort Knock has occasioned several very perplexed and inelegant Heats and Animosities; and there was one t'other day in a Coffee-house where I was, that took upon him to clear that Business to me, for he said he was there. I knew him to be that sort of Man that had not strength of Capacity to be inform'd of any thing that depended merely upon his being an Eye-Witness, and therefore was fully satisfied he could give me no Information, for the very same Reason he believed he could, for he was there. However, I heard him with the same Greediness as Shakespear describes in the following Lines:

'I saw a Smith stand on his Hammer, thus, With open Mouth swallowing a Taylor's News.'

I confess of late I have not been so much amazed at the Declaimers in Coffee-houses as I formerly was, being satisfied that they expect to be rewarded for their Vociferations. Of these Liars there are two Sorts. The Genius of the first consists in much Impudence and a strong Memory; the others have added to these Qualifications a good Understanding and smooth Language. These therefore have only certain Heads, which they are as eloquent upon as they can, and may be call'd Embellishers; the others repeat only what they hear from others as literally as their Parts or Zeal will permit, and are called Reciters. Here was a Fellow in Town some Years ago, who used to divert himself by telling a Lie at Charing-Cross in the Morning at eight of [the] Clock, and then following it through all Parts of the Town till eight at Night; at which time he came to a Club of his Friends, and diverted them with an Account what Censure it had at Will's in Covent-Garden, how dangerous it was believed to be at Child's, and what Inference they drew from it with Relation to Stocks at Jonathan's. I have had the Honour to travel with this Gentleman I speak of in Search of one of his Falshoods; and have been present when they have described the very Man they have spoken to, as him who first reported it, tall or short, black or fair, a Gentleman or a Raggamuffin, according as they liked the Intelligence. I have heard one of our ingenious Writers of News say, that when he has had a Customer come with an Advertisement of an Apprentice or a Wife run away, he has desired the Advertiser to compose himself a little, before he dictated the Description of the Offender: For when a Person is put into a publick Paper by a Man who is angry with him, the real Description of such Person is hid in the Deformity with which the angry Man described him; therefore this Fellow always made his Customers describe him as he would the Day before he offended, or else he was sure he would never find him out. These and many other Hints I could suggest to you for the Elucidation of all Fictions; but I leave it to your own Sagacity to improve or neglect this Speculation.

_I am, SIR,

Your most obedient,

Humble Servant._



Postscript to the Spectator, Number 502.

N. B. There are in the Play of the Self-Tormentor of Terence's, which is allowed a most excellent Comedy, several Incidents which would draw Tears from any Man of Sense, and not one which would move his Laughter.

T.



[Footnote 1: By 7 Anne, cap. 17, all wagers laid upon a contingency relating to the war with France were declared void.]



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No. 522. Wednesday, October 29, 1712. Steele.



'—Adjuro nunquam eam me deserturum, Non, si capiundos mihi sciam esse inimicos omneis homines. Hanc mihi expetivi, contigit: conveniunt mores: valeant Qui inter nos dissidium volunt: hanc, nisi mors, Mi adimet nemo.'

Ter.



I should esteem my self a very happy Man, if my Speculations could in the least contribute to the rectifying the Conduct of my Readers in one of the most important Affairs of Life, to wit their Choice in Marriage. This State is the Foundation of Community, and the chief Band of Society; and I do not think I can be too frequent on Subjects which may give Light to my unmarried Readers, in a particular which is so essential to their following Happiness or Misery. A virtuous Disposition, a good Understanding, an agreeable Person, and an easy Fortune, are the things which should be chiefly regarded on this Occasion. Because my present View is to direct a young Lady, who, I think, is now in doubt whom to take of many Lovers, I shall talk at this time to my female Reader. The Advantages, as I was going to say, of Sense, Beauty and Riches, are what are certainly the chief Motives to a prudent young Woman of Fortune for changing her Condition; but as she is to have her Eye upon each of these, she is to ask herself whether the Man who has most of these Recommendations in the Lump is not the most desirable. He that has excellent Talents, with a moderate Estate, and an agreeable Person, is preferable to him who is only rich, if it were only that good Faculties may purchase Riches, but Riches cannot purchase worthy Endowments. I do not mean that Wit, and a Capacity to entertain, is what should be highly valued, except it is founded upon Good-nature and Humanity. There are many ingenious Men, whose Abilities do little else but make themselves and those about them uneasy: Such are those who are far gone in the Pleasures of the Town, who cannot support Life without quick Sensations and gay Reflections, and are Strangers to Tranquility, to right Reason, and a calm Motion of Spirits without Transport or Dejection. These ingenious Men, of all Men living, are most to be avoided by her who would be happy in [a [1]] Husband. They are immediately sated with Possession, and must necessarily fly to new Acquisitions of Beauty, to pass away the whiling Moments and Intervals of Life; for with them every Hour is heavy that is not joyful. But there is a sort of Man of Wit and Sense, that can reflect upon his own Make, and that of his Partner, with the Eyes of Reason and Honour, and who believes he offends against both these, if he does not look upon the Woman (who chose him to be under his Protection in Sickness and Health) with the utmost Gratitude, whether from that Moment she is shining or defective in Person or Mind: I say, there are those who think themselves bound to supply with Good-nature the Failings of those who love them, and who always think those the Objects of Love and Pity, who came to their Arms the Objects of Joy and Admiration.

Of this latter sort is Lysander, a Man of Wit, Learning, Sobriety and Good-nature, of Birth and Estate below no Woman to accept, and of whom it might be said, should he succeed in his present Wishes, his Mistress rais'd his Fortune, but not that she made it. When a Woman is deliberating with herself whom she shall chuse of many near each other in other Pretensions, certainly he of best Understanding is to be preferr'd. Life hangs heavily in the repeated Conversation of one who has no Imagination to be fired at the several Occasions and Objects which come before him, or who cannot Strike out of his Reflections new Paths of pleasing Discourse. Honest Will Thrash and his Wife, tho' not married above four Months, have scarce had a Word to say to each other this six weeks; and one cannot form to one's self a sillier Picture, than these two Creatures in solemn Pomp and Plenty unable to enjoy their Fortunes, and at a full stop among a Crowd of Servants, to whose Taste of Life they are beholden for the little Satisfactions by which they can be understood to be so much as barely in Being. The Hours of the Day, the Distinctions of Noon and Night, Dinner and Supper, are the greatest Notices they are capable of. This is perhaps representing the Life of a very modest Woman, joined to a dull Fellow, more insipid than it really deserves; but I am sure it is not to exalt the Commerce with an ingenious Companion too high, to say that every new Accident or Object which comes into such a Gentleman's way, gives his Wife new Pleasures and Satisfactions. The Approbation of his Words and Actions is a continual new Feast to her, nor can she enough applaud her good Fortune in having her Life varied every hour, her Mind more improv'd, and her Heart more glad from every Circumstance which they meet with. He will lay out his Invention in forming new Pleasures and Amusements, and make the Fortune she has brought him subservient to the Honour and Reputation of her and hers. A Man of Sense who is thus oblig'd, is ever contriving the Happiness of her who did him so great a Distinction; while the Fool is ungrateful without Vice, and never returns a Favour because he is not sensible of it. I would, methinks, have so much to say for my self, that if I fell into the hands of him who treated me ill, he should be sensible when he did so: His Conscience should be of my side, whatever became of his Inclination. I do not know but it is the insipid Choice which has been made by those who have the Care of young Women, that the Marriage State it self has been liable to so much Ridicule. But a well-chosen Love, mov'd by Passion on both sides, and perfected by the Generosity of one Party, must be adorn'd with so many handsome Incidents on the other side, that every particular Couple would be an example in many Circumstances to all the rest of the Species. I shall end the Chat upon this Subject with a couple of Letters, one from a Lover who is very well acquainted with the way of Bargaining on these Occasions; and the other from his Rival, who has a less Estate, but great Gallantry of Temper. As for my Man of Prudence, he makes love, as he says, as if he were already a Father, and laying aside the Passion, comes to the Reason of the Thing.

Madam,

My Counsel [2] has perused the Inventory of your Estate, and consider'd what Estate you have, which it seems is only yours, and to the Male-Heirs of your Body; but, in Default of such Issue, to the right Heirs of your Uncle Edward for ever. Thus, Madam, I am advis'd you cannot (the Remainder not being in you) dock the Entail; by which means my Estate, which is Fee-Simple, will come by the Settlement propos'd to your Children begotten by me, whether they are Males or Females; but my Children begotten upon you will not inherit your Lands, except I beget a Son. Now, Madam, since things are so, you are a Woman of that Prudence, and understand the World so well, as not to expect I should give you more than you can give me.

_I am, Madam,

(with great Respect)

Your most obedient humble Servant,_ T. W.



The other Lover's Estate is less than this Gentleman's, but he express'd himself as follows.

Madam,

I have given in my Estate to your Counsel, [3] and desired my own Lawyer to insist upon no Terms which your Friends can propose for your certain Ease and Advantage: For indeed I have no notion of making Difficulties of presenting you with what cannot make me happy without you.

_I am, Madam,

Your most devoted humble Servant,_ B. T.

You must know the Relations have met upon this, and the Girl being mightily taken with the latter Epistle, she is laugh'd out, and Uncle Edward is to be dealt with to make her a suitable Match to the worthy Gentleman who has told her he does not care a farthing for her. All I hope for is, that the Lady Fair will make use of the first light Night to show B. T. she understands a Marriage is not to be considered as a common Bargain.

T.



[Footnote 1: [an] and in first reprint.]

[Footnote 2: Spelt Council in the first issue and first reprint.]

[Footnote 3: Spelt Council in the first issue and first reprint.]



* * * * *



No. 523. Thursday, October 30, 1712. Addison.



'—Nunc augur Apollo, Nunc Lyciae sortes, nunc et Jove missus ab ipso Interpres Divum fert horrida jussa per auras. Scilicet is superis labor—'

Virg.



I am always highly delighted with the discovery of any rising Genius among my Countrymen. For this reason I have read over, with great pleasure, the late Miscellany published by Mr. Pope, [1] in which there are many excellent Compositions of that ingenious Gentleman. I have had a pleasure of the same kind, in perusing a Poem that is just publish'd on the Prospect of Peace, and which, I hope, will meet with such a Reward from its Patrons, as so noble a Performance deserves. I was particularly well pleased to find that the Author had not amused himself with Fables out of the Pagan Theology, and that when he hints at any thing of [this [2]] nature, he alludes to it only as to a Fable.

Many of our Modern Authors, whose Learning very often extends no farther than Ovid's Metamorphosis, do not know how to celebrate a Great Man, without mixing a parcel of School-Boy Tales with the Recital of his Actions. If you read a Poem on a fine Woman, among the Authors of this Class, you shall see that it turns more upon Venus or Helen, that on the Party concerned. I have known a Copy of Verses on a great Hero highly commended; but upon asking to hear some of the beautiful Passages, the Admirer of it has repeated to me a Speech of Apollo, or a Description of Polypheme. At other times when I have search'd for the Actions of a great Man, who gave a Subject to the Writer, I have been entertained with the Exploits of a River-God, or have been forced to attend a Fury in her mischievous Progress, from one end of the Poem to the other. When we are at School it is necessary for us to be acquainted with the System of Pagan Theology, and may be allowed to enliven a Theme, or point an Epigram with an Heathen God; but when we would write a manly Panegyrick, that should carry in it all the Colours of Truth, nothing can be more ridiculous than to have recourse to our Jupiters and Junos.

No Thought is beautiful which is not just, and no Thought can be just which is not founded in Truth, or at least in that which passes for such.

In Mock-Heroick Poems, the Use of the Heathen Mythology is not only excusable but graceful, because it is the Design of such Compositions to divert, by adapting the fabulous Machines of the Ancients to low Subjects, and at the same time by ridiculing such kinds of Machinery in modern Writers. If any are of opinion, that there is a Necessity of admitting these Classical Legends into our serious Compositions, in order to give them a more Poetical Turn; I would recommend to their Consideration the Pastorals of Mr. Philips. One would have thought it impossible for this Kind of Poetry to have subsisted without Fawns and Satyrs, Wood Nymphs, and Water Nymphs, with all the Tribe of rural Deities. But we see he has given a new Life, and a more natural Beauty to this way of Writing by substituting in the place of these Antiquated Fables, the superstitious Mythology which prevails among the Shepherds of our own Country.

Virgil and Homer might compliment their Heroes, by interweaving the Actions of Deities with their Atchievements; but for a Christian Author to write in the Pagan Creed, to make Prince Eugene a Favourite of Mars, or to carry on a Correspondence between Bellona and the Marshal de Villars, would be downright Puerility, and unpardonable in a Poet that is past Sixteen. It is want of sufficient Elevation in a Genius to describe Realities, and place them in a shining Light, that makes him have recourse to such trifling antiquated Fables; as a Man may write a fine Description of Bacchus or Apollo, that does not know how to draw the Character of any of his Contemporaries.

In order therefore to put a stop to this absurd Practice, I shall publish the following Edict, by virtue of that Spectatorial Authority with which I stand invested.

'Whereas the Time of a General Peace is, in all appearance, drawing near, being inform'd that there are several ingenious Persons who intend to shew their Talents on so happy an Occasion, and being willing, as much as in me lies, to prevent that Effusion of Nonsense, which we have good Cause to apprehend; I do hereby strictly require every Person, who shall write on this Subject, to remember that he is a Christian, and not to Sacrifice his Catechism to his Poetry. In order to it, I do expect of him in the first place, to make his own Poem, without depending upon Phoebus for any part of it, or calling out for Aid upon any one of the Muses by Name. I do likewise positively forbid the sending of Mercury with any particular Message or Dispatch relating to the Peace, and shall by no means suffer Minerva to take upon her the Shape of any Plenipotentiary concerned in this Great Work. I do further declare, that I shall not allow the Destinies to have had an hand in the Deaths of the several thousands who have been slain in the late War, being of opinion that all such Deaths may be very well accounted for by the Christian System of Powder and Ball. I do therefore strictly forbid the Fates to cut the Thread of Man's Life upon any pretence whatsoever, unless it be for the sake of the Rhyme. And whereas I have good Reason to fear, that Neptune will have a great deal of Business on his Hands, in several Poems which we may now suppose are upon the Anvil, I do also prohibit his Appearance, unless it be done in Metaphor, Simile, or any very short Allusion, and that even here he be not permitted to enter, but with great Caution and Circumspection. I desire that the same Rule may be extended to his whole Fraternity of Heathen Gods, it being my design to condemn every Poem to the Flames in which Jupiter Thunders, or exercises any other Act of Authority which does not belong to him: In short, I expect that no Pagan Agent shall be introduc'd, or any Fact related which a Man cannot give Credit to with a good Conscience. Provided always, that nothing herein contained shall extend, or be construed to extend, to several of the Female Poets in this Nation, who shall be still left in full Possession of their Gods and Goddesses, in the same manner as if this Paper had never been written.

O.



[Footnote 1: In this year, 1712, Bernard Lintot, having observed the success of Tonson's volumes of Miscellanies, produced a Miscellany edited by Pope (now 24 years old), and containing the first sketch of his 'Rape of the Lock,' translations from Statius and Ovid, and other pieces. Addison's delight with the discovery of rising genius leads him to dispose in a sentence of 'that ingenious gentleman' who had just published a 'Rape of the Lock,' and proceed to warm praise of his personal friends, Thomas Tickell and Ambrose Philips. In his Poem to his Excellency the Lord Privy Seal on the Prospect of Peace, Tickell invites Strafford to 'One hour, oh! listen while the Muses sing.']

[Footnote 2: [that]]



* * * * *



No. 524. Friday, October 31, 1712. [1]



'Nos populo damus—'

Sen.



When I first of all took it in my Head to write Dreams and Visions, I determin'd to Print nothing of that nature, which was not of my own Invention. But several laborious Dreamers have of late communicated to me Works of this Nature, which, for their Reputations and my own, I have hitherto suppressed. Had I printed every one that came to my Hands, my Book of Speculations would have been little else but a Book of Visions. Some of my Correspondents have indeed been so very modest, as to offer at an Excuse for their not being in a Capacity to dream better. I have by me, for example, the Dream of a young Gentleman not past Fifteen. I have likewise by me the Dream of a Person of Quality, and another called the Lady's Dream. In these, and other Pieces of the same nature, it is suppos'd the usual Allowances will be made to the Age, Condition and Sex of the Dreamer. To prevent this Inundation of Dreams, which daily flows in upon me, I shall apply to all Dreamers of Dreams, the Advice which Epictetus has couched, after his manner, in a very simple and concise Precept. Never tell thy Dreams, says that Philosopher, for tho' thou thy self may'st take a Pleasure in telling thy Dream, another will take no Pleasure in hearing it. After this short Preface, I must do Justice to two or three Visions which I have lately publish'd, and which I have owned to have been written by other Hands. I shall add a Dream to these, which comes to me from Scotland, by one who declares himself of that Country, and for all I know may be second-sighted. There is, indeed, something in it of the Spirit of John Bunyan; but at the same time a certain Sublime, which that Author was never master of. I shall publish it, because I question not but it will fall in with the Taste of all my popular Readers, and amuse the Imaginations of those who are more profound; declaring at the same time, that this is the last Dream which I intend to publish this Season.

SIR,

'I was last Sunday in the Evening led into a serious Reflection on the Reasonableness of Virtue, and great Folly of Vice, from an excellent Sermon I had heard that Afternoon in my Parish-Church. Among other Observations, the Preacher shew'd us that the Temptations which the Tempter propos'd, were all on a Supposition, that we are either Madmen or Fools, or with an Intention to render us such; that in no other Affair we would suffer ourselves to be thus imposed upon, in a Case so plainly and clearly against our visible Interest. His illustrations and Arguments carried so much Persuasion and Conviction with them, that they remained a considerable while fresh, and working in my Memory; till at last the Mind, fatigued with Thought, gave way to the forcible Oppressions of Slumber and Sleep, whilst Fancy, unwilling yet to drop the Subject, presented me with the following Vision.

'Methought I was just awoke out of a Sleep, that I could never remember the beginning of; the Place where I found my self to be, was a wide and spacious Plain, full of People that wandered up and down through several beaten Paths, whereof some few were strait, and in direct lines, but most of them winding and turning like a Labyrinth; but yet it appear'd to me afterwards, that these last all met in one Issue, so that many that seemed to steer quite contrary Courses, did at length meet and face one another, to the no little Amazement of many of them.

'In the midst of the Plain there was a great Fountain: They called it the Spring of Self-Love; out of it issued two Rivulets to the Eastward and Westward, the Name of the first was Heavenly-Wisdom, its Water was wonderfully clear, but of a yet more wonderful Effect; the other's Name was Worldly-Wisdom, its Water was thick, and yet far from dormant or stagnating, for it was in a continual violent Agitation; which kept the Travellers whom I shall mention by and by, from being sensible of the Foulness and Thickness of the Water; which had this Effect, that it intoxicated those who drunk it, and made 'em mistake every Object that lay before them: both Rivulets were parted near their Springs into so many others, as there were strait and crooked Paths, which they attended all along to their respective Issues.

'I observ'd from the several Paths many now and then diverting, to refresh and otherwise qualify themselves for their Journey, to the respective Rivulets that ran near them; they contracted a very observable Courage and Steadiness in what they were about, by drinking these Waters. At the end of the Perspective of every strait Path, all which did end in one Issue and Point, appeared a high Pillar, all of Diamond, casting Rays as bright as those of the Sun into the Paths; which Rays had also certain sympathizing and alluring Virtues in them, so that whosoever had made some considerable progress in his Journey onwards towards the Pillar, by the repeated impression of these Rays upon him, was wrought into an habitual Inclination and Conversion of his Sight towards it, so that it grew at last in a matter natural to him to look and gaze upon it, whereby he was kept steddy in the strait Paths, which alone led to that radiant Body, the beholding of which was now grown a Gratification to his Nature.

'At the Issue of the crooked Paths there was a great black Tower, out of the Centre of which streamed a long Succession of Flames, which did rise even above the Clouds; it gave a very great Light to the whole Plain, which did sometimes outshine the Light, and opprest the Beams of the Adamantine Pillar; tho' by the Observation I made afterwards, it appeared that it was not for any Diminution of Light, but that this lay in the Travellers, who would sometimes step out of the strait Paths, where they lost the full Prospect of the Radiant Pillar, and saw it but side-ways: but the great Light from the black Tower, which was somewhat particularly scorching to them, would generally light and hasten them to their proper Climate again.

'Round about the black Tower there were, methoughts, many thousands of huge mis-shapen ugly Monsters; these had great Nets, which they were perpetually plying and casting towards the crooked Paths, and they would now and then catch up those that were nearest to them: these they took up streight, and whirled over the Walls into the flaming Tower, and they were no more seen nor heard of.

'They would sometimes cast their Nets towards the right Paths to catch the Stragglers, whose Eyes for want of frequent drinking at the Brook that ran by them grew dim, whereby they lost their way; these would sometimes very narrowly miss being catched away, but I could not hear whether any of these had ever been so unfortunate, that had been before very hearty in the strait Paths.

'I considered all these strange Sights with great Attention, till at last I was interrupted by a Cluster of the Travellers in the crooked Paths, who came up to me, bid me go along with them, and presently fell to singing and dancing; they took me by the Hand, and so carried me away along with them. After I had follow'd them a considerable while, I perceiv'd I had lost the black Tower of Light, at which I greatly wonder'd; but as I looked and gazed round about me, and saw nothing, I begun to fancy my first Vision had been but a Dream, and there was no such thing in reality: but then I consider'd, that if I could fancy to see what was not, I might as well have an Illusion wrought on me at present, and not see what was really before me. I was very much confirmed in this Thought, by the Effect I then just observ'd the Water of Worldly-Wisdom had upon me; for as I had drunk a little of it again, I felt a very sensible Effect in my Head; methought it distracted and disorder'd all there: this made me stop of a sudden, suspecting some Charm or Inchantment. As I was casting about within my self what I should do, and whom to apply to in this Case; I spy'd at some distance off me a Man beckning, and making signs to me to come over to him. I cry'd to him, I did not know the Way. He then called to me audibly, to step at least out of the Path I was in; for if I staid there any longer I was in danger to be catched in a great Net that was just hanging over me, and ready to catch me up; that he wonder'd I was so blind, or so distracted, as not to see so imminent and visible a Danger; assuring me, that as soon as I was out of that Way, he would come to me to lead me into a more secure Path. This I did, and he brought me his Palm full of the Water of Heavenly-Wisdom, which was of very great use to me, for my Eyes were streight cleared, and I saw the great black Tower just before me; but the great Net which I spy'd so near me, cast me in such a Terror, that I ran back as far as I could in one Breath, without looking behind me: then my Benefactor thus bespoke me, You have made the wonderful'st Escape in the World, the Water you used to drink is of a bewitching Nature, you would else have been mightily shocked at the Deformities and Meanness of the Place; for beside the Set of blind Fools, in whose Company you was, you may now observe many others who are only bewitched after another no less dangerous manner. Look a little that way, there goes a Crowd of Passengers, they have indeed so good a Head, as not to suffer themselves to be blinded by this bewitching Water; the black Tower is not vanished out of their sight, they see it whenever they look up to it; but see how they go side-ways, and with their Eyes downwards, as if they were mad, that they may thus rush into the Net, without being beforehand troubled at the Thought of so miserable a Destruction. Their Wills are so perverse, and their Hearts so fond of the Pleasures of the Place, that rather than forgo them they will run all Hazards, and venture upon all the Miseries and Woes before them.

'See there that other Company, tho' they should drink none of the bewitching Water, yet they take a Course bewitching and deluding; see how they chuse the crookedest Paths, whereby they have often the black Tower behind them, and sometimes see the radiant Column side-ways, which gives them some weak Glimpse of it. These Fools content themselves with that, not knowing whether any other have any more of its Influence and Light than themselves: this Road is called that of Superstition or Human Invention; they grossly over-look that which the Rules and Laws of the Place prescribe to them, and contrive some other Scheme and Set of Directions and Prescriptions for themselves, which they hope will serve their turn. He shewed me many other kind of Fools, which put me quite out of humour with the Place. At last he carried me to the right Paths, where I found true and solid Pleasure, which entertained me all the way, till we came in closer sight of the Pillar, where the Satisfaction increased to that measure that my Faculties were not able to contain it; in the straining of them I was violently waked, not a little grieved at the vanishing of so pleasing a Dream.

Glascow, Sept. 29.



[Footnote 1: The dream in this Paper is taken to have been the joint production of Alexander Dunlop, Professor of Greek in Glasgow University, and a Mr. Montgomery, who traded to Sweden, and of whom it is hinted that he disordered his wits by falling in love with Queen Christina. Alexander Dunlop, born (1684) in America, where his father was an exile till the Revolution, as Greek Professor at Glasgow, published a Grammar, which was used for many years in Scottish Universities. He died in 1742.]



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No. 525. Saturday, November 1, 1712. John Hughes.



[Greek: Hod' eis to sophron ep' aretaen t' agon eros, Zaelotos anthropoisin]

Eurip.



It is my Custom to take [frequent] Opportunities of enquiring from time to time, what Success my Speculations meet with in the Town. I am glad to find in particular, that my Discourses on Marriage have been well received. A Friend of mine gives me to understand, from Doctors-Commons, that more Licences have been taken out there of late than usual. I am likewise informed of several pretty Fellows, who have resolved to commence Heads of Families by the first favourable Opportunity: One of them writes me word, that he is ready to enter into the Bonds of Matrimony, provided I will give it him under my Hand (as I now do) that a Man may shew his Face in good Company after he is married, and that he need not be ashamed to treat a Woman with Kindness, who puts herself into his Power for Life.

I have other Letters on this Subject, which say that I am attempting to make a Revolution in the World of Gallantry, and that the Consequence of it will be, that a great deal of the sprightliest Wit and Satyr of the last Age will be lost. That a bashful Fellow, upon changing his Condition, will be no longer puzzled how to stand the Raillery of his facetious Companions; that he need not own he married only to plunder an Heiress of her Fortune, nor pretend that he uses her ill, to avoid the [ridiculous [1]] Name of a fond Husband.

Indeed if I may speak my Opinion of great part of the Writings which once prevail'd among us under the Notion of Humour, they are such as would tempt one to think there had been an Association among the Wits of those times to rally Legitimacy out of our Island. A State of Wedlock was the common Mark for all the Adventurers in Farce and Comedy, as well as the Essayers in Lampoon and Satyr, to shoot at, and nothing was a more standing Jest in all Clubs of fashionable Mirth, and gay Conversation. It was determined among those airy Criticks, that the Appellation of a Sober Man should signify a Spiritless Fellow. And I am apt to think it was about the same Time, that Good-Nature, a Word so peculiarly elegant in our Language that some have affirmed it cannot well be expressed in any other, came first to be render'd suspicious, and in danger of being transferred from its original Sense to so distant an Idea as that of Folly.

I must confess it has been my Ambition, in the course of my Writings, to restore, as well as I was able, the proper Ideas of things. And as I have attempted this already on the Subject of Marriage, in several Papers, I shall here add some further Observations which occur to me on the same Head. Nothing seems to be thought, by our fine Gentlemen, so indispensable an Ornament in fashionable Life, as Love. A Knight Errant, says Don Quixot, without a Mistress, is like a Tree without Leaves; and a Man of Mode among us, who has not some Fair One to sigh for, might as well pretend to appear dressed, without his Periwig. We have Lovers in Prose innumerable. All our Pretenders to Rhyme are professed Inamorato's; and there is scarce a Poet, good or bad, to be heard of, who has not some real or supposed Sacharissa to improve his Vein.

If Love be any Refinement, Conjugal Love must be certainly so in a much higher Degree. There is no comparison between the frivolous Affectation of attracting the Eyes of Women with whom you are only captivated by Way of Amusement, and of whom perhaps you know nothing more than their Features, and a regular and uniform Endeavour to make your self valuable, both as a Friend and Lover, to one whom you have chosen to be the Companion of your Life. The first is the Spring of a thousand Fopperies, silly Artifices, Falshoods, and perhaps Barbarities; or at best arises no higher than to a kind of Dancing-School Breeding, to give the Person a more sparkling Air. The latter is the Parent of substantial Virtues and agreeable Qualities, and cultivates the Mind while it improves the Behaviour. The Passion of Love to a Mistress, even where it is most sincere, resembles too much the Flame of a Fever; that to a Wife is like the Vital Heat.

I have often thought, if the Letters written by Men of Goodnature to their Wives, were to be compared with those written by Men of Gallantry to their Mistresses, the former, notwithstanding any Inequality of Style, would appear to have the Advantage. Friendship, Tenderness and Constancy, drest in a Simplicity of Expression, recommend themselves by a more native Elegance, than passionate Raptures, extravagant Encomiums, and slavish Adoration. If we were admitted to search the Cabinet of the beautiful Narcissa, among Heaps of Epistles from several Admirers, which are there preserv'd with equal Care, how few should we find but would make any one Sick in the Reading, except her who is flattered by them? But in how different a Style must the wise Benevolus, who converses with that good Sense and good Humour among all his Friends, write to a Wife who is the worthy Object of his utmost Affection? Benevolus, both in Publick and Private, on all Occasions of Life, appears to have every good Quality and desirable Ornament. Abroad he is reverenced and esteemed; at home beloved and happy. The Satisfaction he enjoys there, settles into an habitual Complacency, which shines in his Countenance, enlivens his Wit, and seasons his Conversation: Even those of his Acquaintance, who have never seen him in his Retirement, are Sharers in the Happiness of it; and it is very much owing to his being the best and best beloved of Husbands, that he is the most stedfast of Friends, and the most agreeable of Companions.

There is a sensible Pleasure in contemplating such beautiful Instances of Domestick Life. The Happiness of the Conjugal State appears heighten'd to the highest degree it is capable of, when we see two Persons of accomplished Minds, not only united in the same Interests and Affections, but in their Taste of the same Improvements, Pleasures and Diversions. Pliny, one of the finest Gentlemen, and politest Writers of the Age in which he lived, has left us, in his Letter to Hispulla, his Wife's Aunt, one of the most agreeable Family-Pieces of this Kind I have ever met with. I shall end this Discourse with a Translation of it; and I believe the Reader will be of my opinion, that Conjugal Love is drawn in it with a Delicacy which makes it appear to be, as I have represented it, an Ornament as well as a Virtue.

PLINY to HISPULLA. [2]

'As I remember the great Affection which was between you and your excellent Brother, and know you love his Daughter as your own, so as not only to express the Tenderness of the best of Aunts, but even to supply that of the best of Fathers; I am sure it will be a pleasure to you to hear that she proves worthy of her Father, worthy of you, and of your Ancestors. Her Ingenuity is admirable; her Frugality extraordinary. She loves me, the surest Pledge of her Virtue; and adds to this a wonderful Disposition to Learning, which she has acquir'd from her Affection to me. She reads my Writings, studies them, and even gets them by heart. You'd smile to see the Concern she is in when I have a Cause to plead, and the Joy she shews when it is over. She finds means to have the first News brought her of the Success I meet with in Court, how I am heard, and what Decree is made. If I recite any thing in publick, she cannot refrain from placing her self privately in some Corner to hear, where with the utmost delight she feasts upon my Applauses. Sometimes she sings my Verses, and accompanies them with the Lute, without any Master, except Love, the best of Instructors. From these Instances I take the most certain Omens of our perpetual and encreasing Happiness; since our Affection is not founded on my Youth and Person, which must gradually decay, but she is in love with the immortal Part of me, my Glory and Reputation. Nor indeed could less be expected from one who had the Happiness to receive her Education from you, who in your House was accustomed to every thing that was virtuous and decent, and even began to love me by your Recommendation. For, as you had always the greatest Respect for my Mother, you were pleased from my Infancy to form me, to commend me, and kindly to presage I should be one day what my Wife fancies I am. Accept therefore our united Thanks; mine, that you have bestowed her on me, and hers, that you have given me to her, as a mutual Grant of Joy and Felicity.'



[Footnote 1: [scandalous]]

[Footnote 2: Bk iv. ep. 19.]



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



'—Fortius utere Loris.'

Ovid.



I am very loth to come to Extremities with the young Gentlemen mention'd in the following Letter, and do not care to chastise them with my own Hand, till I am forc'd by Provocations too great to be suffer'd without the absolute Destruction of my Spectatorial Dignity. The Crimes of these Offenders are placed under the Observation of one of my chief Officers, who is posted just at the entrance of the Pass between London and Westminster. As I have great Confidence in the Capacity, Resolution and Integrity of the Person deputed by me to give an Account of Enormities, I doubt not but I shall soon have before me all proper Notices which are requisite for the Amendment of Manners in Publick, and the Instruction of each Individual of the Human Species in what is due from him, in respect to the whole Body of Mankind. The present Paper shall consist only of the above-mentioned Letter, and the Copy of a Deputation which I have given to my trusty Friend Mr. John Sly; wherein he is charged to notify to me all that is necessary for my Animadversion upon the Delinquents mentioned by my Correspondent, as well as all others described in the said Deputation.

To the SPECTATOR-GENERAL of Great Britain.

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

Dear Dumb,

'Being got again to the farther End of the Widow's Coffeehouse, I shall from hence give you some account of the Behaviour of our Hackney-Coachmen since my last. These indefatigable Gentlemen, without the least Design, I dare say, of Self-Interest or Advantage to themselves, do still ply as Volunteers Day and Night for the Good of their Country. I will not trouble you with enumerating many Particulars, but I must by no means omit to inform you of an Infant about six foot high, and between twenty and thirty Years of Age, who was seen in the Arms of a Hackney Coach-man driving by Will's Coffee-house in Covent-Garden, between the Hours of four and five in the Afternoon of that very Day, wherein you publish'd a Memorial against them. This impudent young Cur, tho' he could not sit in a Coach-box without holding, yet would he venture his Neck to bid defiance to your Spectatorial Authority, or to any thing that you countenanced. Who he was I know not, but I heard this Relation this Morning from a Gentleman who was an Eye-Witness of this his Impudence; and I was willing to take the first opportunity to inform you of him, as holding it extremely requisite that you should nip him in the Bud. But I am my self most concerned for my Fellow-Templers, Fellow-Students, and Fellow-Labourers in the Law, I mean such of them as are dignified and distinguish'd under the Denomination of Hackney-Coachmen. Such aspiring Minds have these ambitious young Men, that they cannot enjoy themselves out of a Coach-Box. It is however an unspeakable Comfort to me, that I can now tell you, that some of them are grown so bashful as to study only in the Nighttime, or in the Country. The other Night I spied one of our young Gentlemen very diligent at his Lucubrations in Fleet-Street; and by the way, I should be under some concern, lest this hard Student should one time or other crack his Brain with studying, but that I am in hopes Nature has taken care to fortify him in proportion to the great Undertakings he was design'd for. Another of my Fellow-Templers, on Thursday last, was getting up into his Study at the Bottom of Grays-Inn-Lane, in order, I suppose, to contemplate in the fresh Air. Now, Sir, my Request is, that the great Modesty of these two Gentlemen may be recorded as a Pattern to the rest; and if you would but give them two or three Touches with your own Pen, tho' you might not perhaps prevail with them to desist entirely from their Meditations, yet I doubt not but you would at least preserve them from being publick Spectacles of Folly in our Streets. I say, two or three Touches with your own Pen; for I have really observed, Mr. SPEC, that those Spectators which are so prettily laced down the sides with little c's, how instructive soever they may be, do not carry with them that Authority as the others. I do again therefore desire, that for the sake of their dear Necks, you will bestow one Penful of your own Ink upon them. I know you are loth to expose them; and it is, I must confess, a thousand Pities that any young Gentleman, who is come of honest Parents, should be brought to publick Shame: And indeed I should be glad to have them handled a little tenderly at the first; but if fair means will not prevail, there is then no other Way to reclaim them, but by making use of some wholesome Severities; and I think it is better that a Dozen or two of such good-for-nothing Fellows should be made Examples of, than that the Reputation of some Hundreds of as hopeful young Gentlemen as my self should suffer thro' their Folly. It is not, however, for me to direct you what to do; but, in short, if our Coachmen will drive on this Trade, the very first of them that I do find meditating in the Street, I shall make Bold to take the Number of his Chambers, together with a Note of his Name, and dispatch them to you, that you may chastise him at your own Discretion.

I am, Dear SPEC. For ever Yours, Moses Greenbag, Esq., if you please.

P. S. 'Tom Hammercloth, one of our Coachmen, is now pleading at the Bar at the other end of the Room, but has a little too much Vehemence, and throws out his Arms too much to take his Audience with a good Grace.

To my Loving and Well-beloved John Sly, Haberdasher of Hats and Tobacconist, between the Cities of London and Westminster.

Whereas frequent Disorders, Affronts, Indignities, Omissions, and Trespasses, for which there are no Remedies by any Form of Law, but which apparently disturb and disquiet the Minds of Men, happen near the Place of your Residence; and that you are, as well by your commodious Situation as the good Parts with which you are endowed, properly qualified for the Observation of the said Offences; I do hereby authorize and depute you from the hours of Nine in the Morning, till Four in the Afternoon, to keep a strict Eye upon all Persons and Things that are convey'd in Coaches, carried in Carts, or walk on Foot from the City of London to the City of Westminster, or from the City of Westminster to the City of London, within the said Hours. You are therefore not to depart from your Observatory at the end of Devereux-Court during the said space of each Day; but to observe the Behaviour of all Persons who are suddenly transported from stamping on Pebbles to sit at ease in Chariots, what Notice they take of their Foot-Acquaintance, and send me the speediest Advice, when they are guilty of overlooking, turning from, or appearing grave and distant to their old Friends. When Man and Wife are in the same Coach, you are to see whether they appear pleased or tired with each other, and whether they carry the due Mein in the Eye of the World between Fondness and Coldness. You are carefully to behold all such as shall have Addition of Honour or Riches, and Report whether they preserve the Countenance they had before such Addition. As to Persons on Foot, you are to be attentive whether they are pleased with their Condition, and are dress'd suitable to it; but especially to distinguish such as appear discreet, by a low-heel Shoe, with the decent Ornament of a Leather-Garter: To write down the Name of such Country Gentlemen as, upon the Approach of Peace, have left the Hunting for the Military Cock of the Hat: Of all who strut, make a Noise, and swear at the Drivers of Coaches to make haste, when they see it impossible they should pass: Of all young Gentlemen in Coach-boxes, who labour at a Perfection in what they are sure to be excelled by the meanest of the People. You are to do all that in you lies that Coaches and Passengers give way according to the Course of Business, all the Morning in Term-Time towards Westminster, the rest of the Year towards the Exchange. Upon these Directions, together with other secret Articles herein inclosed, you are to govern your self, and give Advertisement thereof to me at all convenient and spectatorial Hours, when Men of Business are to be seen. Hereof you are not to fail. Given under my Seal of Office.

The SPECTATOR.

T.



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No. 527. Tuesday, November 4, 1712.



'Facile invenies, et pejorem, et pejus moratam, Meliorem neque tu reperes, neque sol videt.'

Plautus in Sticho.



I am so tender of my Women-Readers, that I cannot defer the Publication of any thing which concerns their Happiness or Quiet. The Repose of a married Woman is consulted in the first of the following Letters, and the Felicity of a Maiden Lady in the second. I call it a Felicity to have the Addresses of an agreeable Man: and I think I have not any where seen a prettier Application of a Poetical Story than that of his, in making the Tale of Cephalus and Procris the History-Picture of a Fan in so gallant a manner as he addresses it. [1] But see the Letters.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

'Tis now almost three months since I was in Town about some Business; and the Hurry of it being over, took Coach one Afternoon, and drove to see a Relation, who married about six Years ago a wealthy Citizen. I found her at home, but her Husband gone to the Exchange, and expected back within an Hour at the farthest. After the usual Salutations of Kindness, and a hundred Questions about Friends in the Country, we sat down to Piquet, played two or three Games, and drank Tea. I should have told you that this was my second time of seeing her since Marriage, but before she lived at the same Town where I went to School; so that the Plea of a Relation, added to the Innocence of my Youth, prevailed upon her good Humour to indulge me in a Freedom of Conversation as often, and oftner, than the strict Discipline of the School would allow of. You may easily imagine after such an Acquaintance we might be exceeding merry without any Offence, as in calling to mind how many Inventions I had been put to in deluding the Master, how many Hands forged for Excuses, how many times been sick in perfect Health; for I was then never sick but at School, and only then because out of her Company. We had whiled away three Hours after this manner, when I found it past Five; and not expecting her Husband would return till late, rose up, told her I should go early next Morning for the Country: She kindly answered she was afraid it would be long before she saw me again; so I took my leave and parted. Now, Sir, I had not been got home a Fortnight, when I received a Letter from a Neighbour of theirs, that ever since that fatal Afternoon the Lady had been most inhumanly treated, and the Husband publickly stormed that he was made a Member of too numerous a Society. He had, it seems, listened most of the time my Cousin and I were together. As jealous Ears always hear double, so he heard enough to make him mad; and as jealous Eyes always see thro' Magnifying Glasses, so he was certain it could not be I whom he had seen, a beardless Stripling, but fancied he saw a gay Gentleman of the Temple, ten Years older than my self; and for that reason, I presume, durst not come in, nor take any Notice when I went out. He is perpetually asking his Wife if she does not think the time long (as she said she should) till she see her Cousin again. Pray, Sir, what can be done in this Case? I have writ to him to assure him I was at his House all that afternoon expecting to see him: His Answer is, 'tis only a Trick of hers, and that he neither can nor will believe me. The parting Kiss I find mightily nettles him, and confirms him in all his Errors. Ben. Johnson, as I remember, makes a Foreigner in one of his Comedies, admire the desperate Valour of the bold English, who let out their Wives to all Encounters. The general Custom of Salutation should Excuse the Favour done me, or you should lay down Rules when such Distinctions are to be given or omitted. You cannot imagine, Sir, how troubled I am for this unhappy Lady's Misfortune; and beg you would insert this Letter, that the Husband may reflect upon this Accident coolly. It is no small Matter, the Ease of a virtuous Woman for her whole Life: I know she will conform to any Regularities (tho' more strict than the common Rules of our Country require) to which his particular Temper shall incline him to oblige her. This Accident puts me in mind how generously Pisistratus the Athenian Tyrant behaved himself on a like Occasion, when he was instigated by his Wife to put to death a young Gentleman, because being passionately fond of his Daughter, he kissed her in publick as he met her in the Street; What (says he) shall we do to those who are our Enemies, if we do thus to those who are our Friends? I will not trouble you much longer, but am exceedingly concern'd lest this Accident may cause a virtuous Lady to lead a miserable Life with a Husband, who has no Grounds for his Jealousy but what I have faithfully related, and ought to be reckon'd none. 'Tis to be fear'd too, if at last he sees his Mistake, yet People will be as slow and unwilling in disbelieving Scandal as they are quick and forward in believing it. I shall endeavour to enliven this plain honest Letter, with Ovid's Relation about Cybele's Image. The Ship wherein it was aboard was stranded at the mouth of the Tyber, and the Men were unable to move it, till Claudia, a Virgin, but suspected of Unchastity, by a slight Pull hawled it in. The Story is told in the fourth Book of the Fasti.