Ov. Met.



Every one has heard of the Famous Conjurer, who, according to the Opinion of the Vulgar, has studied himself dumb; for which Reason, as it is believed, he delivers out all his Oracles in Writing. Be that as it will, the blind Tiresias was not more famous in Greece, than this dumb Artist has been, for some Years last past, in the Cities of London and Westminster. Thus much for the profound Gentleman who honours me with the following Epistle.

From my Cell, June 24, 1714.

SIR,

'Being informed that you have lately got the Use of your Tongue, I have some Thoughts of following your Example, that I may be a Fortune-teller properly speaking. I am grown weary of my Taciturnity, and having served my Country many Years under the Title of the dumb Doctor, I shall now prophesie by Word of Mouth, and (as Mr. Lee says of the Magpie, who you know was a great Fortune-teller among the Ancients) chatter Futurity. I have hitherto chosen to receive Questions and return Answers in Writing, that I might avoid the Tediousness and Trouble of Debates, my Querists being generally of a Humour to think, that they have never Predictions enough for their Mony. In short, Sir, my Case has been something like that of those discreet Animals the Monkeys, who, as the Indians tell us, can speak if they would, but purposely avoid it that they may not be made to work. I have hitherto gained a Livelyhood by holding my Tongue, but shall now open my Mouth in order to fill it. If I appear a little Word-bound in my first Solutions and Responses, I hope it will not be imputed to any Want of Foresight, but to the long Disuse of Speech. I doubt not by this Invention to have all my former Customers over again, for if I have promised any of them Lovers or Husbands, Riches or good Luck, it is my Design to confirm to them viva voce, what I have already given them under my Hand. If you will honour me with a Visit, I will compliment you with the first opening of my Mouth, and if you please you may make an entertaining Dialogue out of the Conversation of two dumb Men. Excuse this Trouble, worthy Sir, from one who has been a long time

Your Silent Admirer, Cornelius Agrippa.'

I have received the following Letter, or rather Billet-doux, from a pert young Baggage, who congratulates with me upon the same Occasion.

June 23, 1714.

Dear Mr. Prate-apace,

'I am a Member of a Female Society who call ourselves the Chit-Chat Club, and am ordered by the whole Sisterhood, to congratulate you upon the Use of your Tongue. We have all of us a mighty Mind to hear you talk, and if you will take your Place among us for an Evening, we have unanimously agreed to allow you one Minute in ten, without Interruption.

I am, SIR, Your Humble Servant, S. T.

P. S. 'You may find us at my Lady Betty Clack's, who will leave Orders with her Porter, that if an elderly Gentleman, with a short Face, enquires for her, he shall be admitted and no Questions asked.

As this particular Paper shall consist wholly of what I have received from my Correspondents, I shall fill up the remaining Part of it with other congratulatory Letters of the same Nature.

Oxford, June 25, 1714.

SIR,

'We are here wonderfully pleased with the Opening of your Mouth, and very frequently open ours in Approbation of your Design; especially since we find you are resolved to preserve your Taciturnity as to all Party Matters. We do not question but you are as great an Orator as Sir Hudibras, of whom the Poet sweetly sings,

'—He could not ope His Mouth, but out there flew a Trope.'

'If you will send us down the Half-dozen well-turned Periods, that produced such dismal Effects in your Muscles, we will deposite them near an old Manuscript of Tully's Orations, among the Archives of the University; for we all agree with you, that there is not a more remarkable Accident recorded in History, since that which happened to the Son of Croesus, nay, I believe you might have gone higher, and have added Balaam's Ass. We are impatient to see more of your Productions, and expect what Words will next fall from you, with as much attention as those, who were set to watch the speaking Head which Friar Bacon formerly erected in this Place. We are,

Worthy SIR, Your most humble Servants, B. R. T. D., &c.



Honest SPEC.

Middle-Temple, June 24.

'I am very glad to hear that thou beginnest to prate; and find, by thy Yesterday's Vision, thou art so used to it, that thou canst not forbear talking in thy Sleep. Let me only advise thee to speak like other Men, for I am afraid thou wilt be very Queer, if thou dost not intend to use the Phrases in Fashion, as thou callest them in thy Second Paper. Hast thou a Mind to pass for a Bantamite, or to make us all Quakers? I do assure thee, Dear SPEC, I am not Polished out of my Veracity, when I subscribe my self

Thy Constant Admirer, and humble Servant, Frank Townly.



* * * * *



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



'—Paulatim abolere Sichaeum Incipit, et vivo tentat praevertere amore Jampridem resides animos desuetaque corda.'

Virg.



SIR,

'I am a tall, broad-shoulder'd, impudent, black Fellow, and, as I thought, every way qualified for a rich Widow: But, after having tried my Fortune for above three Years together, I have not been able to get one single Relict in the Mind. My first Attacks were generally successful, but always broke off as soon as they came to the Word Settlement. Though I have not improved my Fortune this way, I have my Experience, and have learnt several Secrets which may be of use to those unhappy Gentlemen, who are commonly distinguished by the Name of Widow-hunters, and who do not know that this Tribe of Women are, generally speaking, as much upon the Catch as themselves. I shall here communicate to you the Mysteries of a certain Female Cabal of this Order, who call themselves the Widow-Club. This Club consists of nine experienced Dames, who take their Places once a Week round a large oval Table.

I. Mrs. President is a Person who has disposed of six Husbands, and is now determined to take a seventh; being of Opinion that there is as much Vertue in the Touch of a seventh Husband as of a seventh Son. Her Comrades are as follow.

II. Mrs. Snapp, who has four Jointures, by four different Bed-fellows, of four different Shires. She is at present upon the Point of Marriage with a Middlesex Man, and is said to have an Ambition of extending her Possessions through all the Counties in England on this Side the Trent.

III. Mrs. Medlar, who after two Husbands and a Gallant, is now wedded to an old Gentleman of Sixty. Upon her making her Report to the Club after a Weeks Cohabitation, she is still allowed to sit as a Widow, and accordingly takes her Place at the Board.

IV. The Widow Quick, married within a Fortnight after the Death of her last Husband. Her Weeds have served her thrice, and are still as good as new.

V. Lady Catherine Swallow. She was a Widow at Eighteen, and has since buried a second Husband and two Coachmen.

VI. The Lady Waddle. She was married in the 15th Year of her Age to Sir Simon Waddle, Knight, aged Threescore and Twelve, by whom she had Twinns nine Months after his Decease. In the 55th Year of her Age she was married to James Spindle, Esq.; a Youth of One and Twenty, who did not out-live the Honey-Moon.

VII. Deborah Conquest. The Case of this Lady is something particular. She is the Relict of Sir Sampson Conquest, some time Justice of the Quorum. Sir Sampson was seven Foot high, and two Foot in Breadth from the Tip of one Shoulder to the other. He had married three Wives, who all of them died in Child-bed. This terrified the whole Sex, who none of them durst venture on Sir Sampson. At length Mrs. Deborah undertook him, and gave so good an Account of him, that in three Years time she very fairly laid him out, and measured his Length upon the Ground. This Exploit has gained her so great a Reputation in the Club, that they have added Sir Sampson's three Victories to hers, and give her the Merit of a fourth Widowhood; and she takes her Place accordingly.

'VIII. The Widow Wildfire, Relict of Mr. John Wildfire, Fox-hunter, who broke his Neck over a six Bar Gate. She took his Death so much to Heart, that it was thought it would have put an End to her Life, had she not diverted her Sorrows by receiving the Addresses of a Gentleman in the Neighbourhood, who made Love to her in the second Month of her Widowhood. This Gentleman was discarded in a Fortnight for the sake of a young Templar, who had the Possession of her for six Weeks after, till he was beaten out by a broken Officer, who likewise gave up his Place to a Gentleman at Court. The Courtier was as short-liv'd a Favourite as his Predecessors, but had the Pleasure to see himself succeeded by a long Series of Lovers, who followed the Widow Wildfire to the 37th Year of her Age, at which time there ensued a Cessation of ten Years, when John Felt, Haberdasher, took it in his Head to be in love with her, and it is thought will very suddenly carry her off.

'IX. The last is pretty Mrs. Runnet, who broke her first Husband's Heart before she was Sixteen, at which Time she was entred of the Club, but soon after left it, upon Account of a Second, whom she made so quick a Dispatch of, that she returned to her Seat in less than a Twelvemonth. This young Matron is looked upon as the most rising Member of the Society, and will probably be in the President's Chair before she dies.

'These Ladies, upon their first Institution, resolved to give the Pictures of their deceased Husbands to the Club-Room, but two of them bringing in their Dead at full Length, they cover'd all the Walls; Upon which they came to a second Resolution, that every Matron should give her own Picture, and set it round with her Husbands in Miniature.

As they have most of them the Misfortune to be troubled with the Cholick, they have a noble Celler of Cordials and strong Waters. When they grow Maudlin, they are very apt to commemorate their former Partners with a Tear. But ask them which of their Husbands they Condole, they are not able to tell you, and discover plainly that they do not Weep so much for the Loss of a Husband, as for the want of One.

'The principal Rule, by which the whole Society are to govern themselves is this, To cry up the Pleasures of a single Life upon all Occasions, in order to deter the rest of their Sex from Marriage, and engross the whole Male World to themselves.

'They are obliged, when any one makes Love to a Member of the Society, to communicate his Name, at which Time the whole Assembly sit upon his Reputation, Person, Fortune, and good Humour; and if they find him qualified for a Sister of the Club, they lay their Heads together how to make him sure. By this Means they are acquainted with all the Widow-hunters about Town, who often afford them great Diversion. There is an honest Irish Gentleman, it seems, who knows nothing of this Society, but at different times has made Love to the whole Club.

Their Conversation often turns upon their former Husbands, and it is very diverting to hear them relate their several Arts and Stratagems, with which they amused the Jealous, pacified the Chokrick, or wheedled the Good-natured Man, till at last, to use the Club Phrase, They sent him out of the House with his Heels foremost.

The Politicks, which are most cultivated by this Society of She-Machiavils, relate chiefly to these two Points: How to treat a Lover, and How to manage a Husband. As for the first Set of Artifices, they are too numerous to come within the Compass of your Paper, and shall therefore be reserved for a Second Letter.

The Management of a Husband is built upon the following Doctrines, which are Universally assented to by the whole Club. Not to give him his Head at first. Not to allow him too great Freedoms and Familiarities. Not to be treated by him like a raw Girl, but as a Woman that knows the World. Not to Lessen anything of her former Figure. To celebrate the Generosity, or any other Vertue, of a deceased Husband, which she would recommend to his Successor. To turn away all his old Friends and Servants, that she may have the Dear Man to her self. To make him disinherit the undutiful Children of any former Wife. Never to be thoroughly convinced of his Affection, till he has made over to her all his Goods and Chattels.

'After so long a Letter, I am, without more Ceremony, Your Humble Servant, &c.



* * * * *



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



'—Praesens, absens ut sies.'

Ter.



It is a hard and nice Subject for a Man to speak of himself, says Cowley; [1] it grates his own Heart to say anything of Disparagement, and the Reader's Ears to hear any thing of Praise from him. Let the Tenour of his Discourse be what it will upon this Subject, it generally proceeds from Vanity. An ostentatious Man will rather relate a Blunder or an Absurdity he has committed, than be debarred from talking of his own dear Person.

Some very great Writers have been guilty of this Fault. It is observed of Tully in particular, that his Works run very much in the First Person, and that he takes all Occasions of doing himself Justice.

'Does he think, says Brutus, that his Consulship deserves more Applause than my putting Caesar to Death, because I am not perpetually talking of the Ides of March, as he is of the Nones of December?'

I need not acquaint my learned Reader, that in the Ides of March, Brutus destroyed Caesar, and that Cicero quashed the Conspiracy of Cataline in the Calends of December. How shocking soever this great Man's talking of himself might have been to his Contemporaries, I must confess I am never better pleased than when he is on this Subject. Such Openings of the Heart give a Man a thorough Insight into his Personal Character, and illustrate several Passages in the History of his Life: Besides that, there is some little Pleasure in discovering the Infirmity of a great Man, and seeing how the Opinion he has of himself agrees with what the World entertains of him.

The Gentlemen of Port-Royal, who were more eminent for their Learning and their Humility than any other in France, banish'd the way of speaking in the First Person out of all their Works, as arising from Vain-Glory and Self-Conceit. To shew their particular Aversion to it, they branded this Form of Writing with the Name of an Egotism; a Figure not to be found among the ancient Rhetoricians.

The most violent Egotism which I have met with in the Course of my Reading, is that of Cardinal Wolsey, Ego et Rex meus, I and my King; as perhaps the most eminent Egotist that ever appeared in the World, was Montagne the Author of the celebrated Essays. This lively old Gascon has woven all his bodily Infirmities into his Works, and after having spoken of the Faults or Virtues of any other Man, immediately publishes to the World how it stands with himself in that Particular. Had he kept his own Counsel he might have passed for a much better Man, though perhaps he would not have been so diverting an Author. The Title of an Essay promises perhaps a Discourse upon Virgil or Julius Caesar; but when you look into it, you are sure to meet with more upon Monsieur Montagne, than of either of them. The younger Scaliger, who seems to have been no great Friend to this Author, after having acquainted the World that his Father sold Herrings, adds these Words; La grande fadaise de Montague, qui a escrit, qu'il aimoit mieux le vin blanc—que diable a-t-on a faire de scavoir ce qu'il aime? For my Part, says Montague, I am a great Lover of your White Wines—What the Devil signifies it to the Publick, says Scaliger, whether he is a Lover of White Wines or of Red Wines?

I cannot here forbear mentioning a Tribe of Egotists for whom I have always had a mortal Aversion, I mean the Authors of Memoirs, who are never mentioned in any Works but their own, and who raise all their Productions out of this single Figure of Speech.

Most of our modern Prefaces savour very strongly of the Egotism. Every insignificant Author fancies it of Importance to the World, to know that he writ his Book in the Country, that he did it to pass away some of his idle Hours, that it was published at the Importunity of Friends, or that his natural Temper, Studies or Conversations, directed him to the Choice of his Subject.

'—Id populus curat scilicet.'

Such Informations cannot but be highly improving to the Reader.

In Works of Humour, especially when a Man writes under a fictitious Personage, the talking of one's self may give some Diversion to the Publick; but I would advise every other Writer never to speak of himself, unless there be something very considerable in his Character: Tho' I am sensible this Rule will be of little Use in the World, because there is no Man who fancies his Thoughts worth publishing, that does not look upon himself as a considerable Person.

I shall close this Paper with a Remark upon such as are Egotists in Conversation: These are generally the vain or shallow part of Mankind, People being naturally full of themselves when they have nothing else in them. There is one kind of Egotists which is very common in the World, tho' I do not remember that any Writer has taken Notice of them; I mean those empty conceited Fellows, who repeat as Sayings of their own, or some of their particular Friends, several Jests which were made before they were born, and which every one who has conversed in the World has heard a hundred times over. A forward young Fellow of my Acquaintance was very guilty of this Absurdity: He would be always laying a new Scene for some old Piece of Wit, and telling us, That as he and Jack such-a-one were together, one or t'other of them had such a Conceit on such an Occasion; upon which he would laugh very heartily, and wonder the Company did not join with him. When his Mirth was over, I have often reprehended him out of Terence, Tuumne, obsecro te, hoc dictum erat? vetus credidi. But finding him still incorrigible, and having a Kindness for the young Coxcomb, who was otherwise a good-natured Fellow, I recommended to his Perusal the Oxford and Cambridge Jests, with several little Pieces of Pleasantry of the same Nature. Upon the reading of them, he was under no small Confusion to find that all his Jokes had passed through several Editions, and that what he thought was a new Conceit, and had appropriated to his own Use, had appeared in Print before he or his ingenious Friends were ever heard of. This had so good an Effect upon him, that he is content at present to pass for a Man of plain Sense in his ordinary Conversation, and is never facetious but when he knows his Company.



[Footnote 1: Essay 2.]



* * * * *



No. 563. Monday, July 5, 1714.



'—Magni nominis Umbra—'

Lucan.



I shall entertain my Reader with two very curious Letters. The first of them comes from a chimerical Person, who I believe never writ to any Body before.

SIR,

'I am descended from the Ancient Family of the Blanks, a Name well known among all Men of Business. It is always read in those little white Spaces of Writing which want to be filled up, and which for that Reason are called blank Spaces, as of right appertaining to our Family: For I consider my self as the Lord of a Mannor, who lays his Claim to all Wastes or Spots of Ground that are unappropriated. I am a near Kinsman to John a Styles and John a Nokes; and they, I am told, came in with the Conquerour. I am mentioned oftner in both Houses of Parliament than any other Person in Great Britain. My Name is written, or more properly speaking, not written, thus, . I am one that can turn my Hand to every thing, and appear under any Shape whatsoever. I can make my self Man, Woman, or Child. I am sometimes metamorphosed into a Year of our Lord, a Day of the Month, or an Hour of the Day. I very often represent a Sum of Mony, and am generally the first Subsidy that is granted to the Crown. I have now and then supplied the Place of several Thousands of Land Soldiers, and have as frequently been employed in the Sea Service.

'Now, Sir, my Complaint is this, that I am only made use of to serve a Turn, being always discarded as soon as a proper Person is found out to fill up my Place.

'If you have ever been in the Play-house before the Curtain rises, you see most of the Front Boxes filled with Men of my Family, who forthwith turn out and resign their Stations upon the Appearance of those for whom they are retained.

'But the most illustrious Branch of the Blanks are those who are planted in high Posts, till such time as Persons of greater Consequence can be found out to supply them. One of these Blanks is equally qualified for all Offices; he can serve in time of Need for a Soldier, a Politician, a Lawyer, or what you please. I have known in my Time many a Brother Blank that has been born under a lucky Planet, heap up great Riches, and swell into a Man of Figure and Importance, before the Grandees of his Party could agree among themselves which of them should step into his Place. Nay, I have known a Blank continue so long in one of these vacant Posts, (for such it is to be reckoned all the Time a Blank is in it) that he has grown too formidable and dangerous to be removed.

'But to return to my self, since I am so very commodious a Person, and so very necessary in all well-regulated Governments, I desire you will take my Case into Consideration, that I may be no longer made a Tool of, and only employed to stop a Gap. Such Usage, without a Pun, makes me look very blank. For all which Reasons I humbly recommend my self to your Protection, and am Your most obedient Servant,

'Blank.

'P.S. I herewith send you a Paper, drawn up by a Country Attorney employed by two Gentlemen, whose Names he was not acquainted with, and who did not think fit to let him into the Secret which they were transacting. I heard him call it a Blank Instrument, and read it after the following Manner. You may see by this single Instance of what Use I am to the busy World.

'I T. Blank, Esq., of Blank Town, in the County of Blank, do own my self indebted in the Sum of Blank, to Goodman Blank, for the Service he did me in procuring for me the Goods following, Blank: And I do hereby promise the said Blank to pay unto him the said Sum of Blank, on the Blank Day of the Month of Blank next ensuing, under the Penalty and Forfeiture of Blank.

I shall take Time to consider the Case of this my imaginary Correspondent, and in the mean while shall present my Reader with a Letter which seems to come from a Person that is made up of Flesh and Blood.

Good Mr. SPECTATOR,

'I am married to a very honest Gentleman that is exceedingly good-natured, and at the same time very cholerick. There is no standing before him when he is in a Passion; but as soon as it is over he is the best-humour'd Creature in the World. When he is angry, he breaks all my China-Ware that chances to lie in his Way, and the next Morning sends me in twice as much as he broke the Day before. I may positively say, that he has broke me a Child's Fortune since we were first marry'd together.

'As soon as he begins to fret, down goes every thing that is within Reach of his Cane. I once prevailed upon him never to carry a Stick in his Hand, but this saved me nothing; for upon seeing me do something that did not please him, he kicked down a great Jarr, that cost him above Ten Pound but the Week before. I then laid the Fragments together in a Heap, and gave him his Cane again, desiring him that if he chanced to be in Anger, he would spend his Passion upon the China that was broke to his Hand: But the very next Day upon my giving a wrong Message to one of the Servants, he flew into such a Rage, that he swept down a Dozen Tea-Dishes, which, to my Misfortune, stood very convenient for a Side-Blow.

I then removed all my China into a Room which he never frequents; but I got nothing by this neither, for my Looking-Glasses immediately went to Rack.

'In short, Sir, whenever he is in a Passion he is angry at every thing that is brittle; and if on such Occasions he had nothing to vent his Rage upon, I do not know whether my Bones would be in Safety. Let me beg of you, Sir, to let me know whether there be any Cure for this unaccountable Distemper; or if not, that you will be pleased to publish this Letter: For my Husband having a great Veneration for your Writings, will by that means know you do not approve of his Conduct. I am,

Your most humble Servant, &c.



* * * * *



No. 564. Wednesday, July 7, 1714.



'—Adsit Regula, peccatis quae poenas irroget aequas: Ne Scutica dignum horribili sectere flagello.'

Hor.



It is the Work of a Philosopher to be every Day subduing his Passions, and laying aside his Prejudices. I endeavour at least to look upon Men and their Actions only as an impartial Spectator, without any regard to them as they happen to advance or cross my own private Interest. But while I am thus employed my self, I cannot help observing, how those about me suffer themselves to be blinded by Prejudice and Inclination, how readily they pronounce on every Man's Character, which they can give in two Words, and make him either good for nothing, or qualified for every thing. On the contrary, those who search thoroughly into humane Nature, will find it much more difficult to determine the Value of their Fellow-Creatures, and that Mens Characters are not thus to be given in general Words. There is indeed no such thing as a Person entirely good or bad; Virtue and Vice are blended and mixed together, in a greater or less Proportion, in every one; and if you would search for some particular good Quality in its most eminent Degree of Perfection, you will often find it in a Mind, where it is darkned and eclipsed by an hundred other irregular Passions.

Men have either no Character at all, says a celebrated Author, or it is that of being inconsistent with themselves. They find it easier to join Extremities, than to be uniform and of a Piece. This is finely illustrated in Xenophon's Life of Cyrus the Great. That Author tells us, that Cyrus having taken a most beautiful Lady named Panthea, the Wife of Abradatas, committed her to the Custody of Araspas, a young Persian Nobleman, who had a little before maintain'd in Discourse, that a Mind truly virtuous was incapable of entertaining an unlawful Passion. The young Gentleman had not long been in Possession of his fair Captive, when a Complaint was made to Cyrus, that he not only sollicited the Lady Panthea to receive him in the Room of her absent Husband, but that finding his Entreaties had no Effect, he was preparing to make use of Force. Cyrus, who loved the young Man, immediately sent for him, and in a gentle Manner representing to him his Fault, and putting him in Mind of his former Assertion, the unhappy Youth, confounded with a quick Sense of his Guilt and Shame, burst out into a Flood of Tears, and spoke as follows.

Oh Cyrus, I am convinced that I hare two Souls. Love has taught me this Piece of Philosophy. If I had but one Soul, it could not at the same time pant after Virtue and Vice, wish and abhor the same thing. It is certain therefore we have two Souls: When the good Soul rules, I undertake noble and virtuous Actions; but when the bad Soul predominates, I am forced to do Evil. All I can say at present is, that I find my good Soul, encouraged by your Presence, has got the Better of my bad.

I know not whether my Readers will allow of this Piece of Philosophy; but if they will not, they must confess we meet with as different Passions in one and the same Soul, as can be supposed in two. We can hardly read the Life of a great Man who lived in former Ages, or converse with any who is eminent among our Contemporaries, that is not an Instance of what I am saying.

But as I have hitherto only argued against the Partiality and Injustice of giving our Judgment upon Men in gross, who are such a Composition of Virtues and Vices, of Good and Evil; I might carry this Reflection still farther, and make it extend to most of their Actions. If on the one Hand, we fairly weighed every Circumstance, we should frequently find them obliged to do that Action we at first sight condemn, in order to avoid another we should have been much more displeased with. If on the other Hand we nicely examined such Actions as appear most dazzling to the Eye, we should find most of them either deficient and lame in several Parts, produced by a bad Ambition, or directed to an ill End. The very same Action may sometimes be so oddly circumstanced, that it is difficult to determine whether it ought to be rewarded or punish'd. Those who compiled the Laws of England were so sensible of this, that they have laid it down as one of their first Maxims, It is better suffering a Mischief than an Inconvenience; which is as much as to say in other Words, That since no Law can take in or provide for all Cases, it is better private Men should have some Injustice done them, than that a public Grievance should not be redressed. This is usually pleaded in Defence of all those Hardships which fall on particular Persons in particular Occasions, which could not be foreseen when a Law was made. To remedy this however as much as possible, the Court of Chancery was erected, which frequently mitigates and breaks the Teeth of the Common Law, in Cases of Men's Properties, while in Criminal Cases there is a Power of pardoning still lodged in the Crown.

Notwithstanding this, it is perhaps impossible in a large Government to distribute Rewards and Punishments strictly proportioned to the Merits of every Action. The Spartan Commonwealth was indeed wonderfully exact in this Particular; and I do not remember in all my Reading to have met with so nice an Example of Justice as that recorded by Plutarch, with which I shall close my Paper for this Day.

The City of Sparta being unexpectedly attacked by a powerful Army of Thebans, was in very great Danger of falling into the Hands of their Enemies. The Citizens suddenly gathering themselves into a Body, fought with a Resolution equal to the Necessity of their Affairs, yet no one so remarkably distinguished himself on this Occasion, to the Amazement of both Armies, as Isadas the Son of Phoebidas, who was at that time in the Bloom of his Youth, and very remarkable for the Comeliness of his Person. He was coming out of the Bath when the Alarm was given, so that he had not time to put on his Cloaths, much less his Armour; however transported with a Desire to serve his Country in so great an Exigency, snatching up a Spear in one Hand, and a Sword in the other, he flung himself into the thickest Ranks of his Enemies. Nothing could withstand his Fury: in what Part soever he fought he put the Enemies to Flight without receiving a single Wound. Whether, says Plutarch, he was the particular Care of some God, who rewarded his Valour that Day with an extraordinary Protection, or, that his Enemies, struck with the Unusualness of his Dress, and Beauty of his Shape, supposed him something more than Man, I shall not determine.

The Gallantry of this Action was judged so great by the Spartans, that the Ephori, or chief Magistrates, decreed he should be presented with a Garland; but as soon as they had done so, fined him a thousand Drachmas for going out to the Battle unarmed.



* * * * *



No. 565. Friday, July 9, 1714. Addison.



'—Deum namque ire per omnes Terrasque, tractusque maris, coelumque profundum.'

Virg.



I was Yesterday about Sun-set walking in the open Fields, 'till the Night insensibly fell upon me. I at first amused my self with all the Richness and Variety of Colours, which appeared in the Western Parts of Heaven: In Proportion as they faded away and went out, several Stars and Planets appeared one after another 'till the whole Firmament was in a Glow. The Blewness of the AEther was exceedingly heightened and enlivened by the Season of the Year, and by the Rays of all those Luminaries that passed through it. The Galaxy appeared in its most beautiful White. To compleat the Scene, the full Moon rose at length in that clouded Majesty, which Milton takes Notice of, and opened to the Eye a new Picture of Nature, which was more finely shaded, and disposed among softer Lights than that which the Sun had before discovered to us.

As I was surveying the Moon walking in her Brightness and taking her Progress among the Constellations, a Thought rose in me which I believe very often perplexes and disturbs Men of serious and contemplative Natures. David himself fell into it in that Reflection,

When I consider the Heavens the Work of thy Fingers, the Moon and the Stars which thou hast ordained; what is man that thou art mindful of him, and the son of man that thou regardest him!

In the same manner when I considered that infinite Host of Stars, or, to speak more Philosophically, of Suns, which were then shining upon me, with those innumerable Sets of Planets or Worlds, which were moving round their respective Suns; When I still enlarged the Idea, and supposed another Heaven of Suns and Worlds rising still above this which we discovered, and these still enlightened by a superior Firmament of Luminaries, which are planted at so great a Distance, that they may appear to the Inhabitants of the former as the Stars do to us; In short, whilst I pursued this Thought, I could not but reflect on that little insignificant Figure which I my self bore amidst the Immensity of God's Works.

Were the Sun, which enlightens this Part of the Creation, with all the Host of Planetary Worlds, that move about him, utterly extinguished and annihilated, they would not be missed more than a grain of Sand upon the Sea-shore. The Space they possess is so exceedingly little, in Comparison of the whole, that it would scarce make a Blank in the Creation. The Chasm would be imperceptible to an Eye, that could take in the whole Compass of Nature, and pass from one end of the Creation to the other, as it is possible there may be such a Sense in our selves hereafter, or in Creatures which are at present more exalted than our selves. We see many Stars by the help of Glasses, which we do not discover with our naked Eyes; and the finer our Telescopes are, the more still are our Discoveries. Huygenius carries this Thought so far, that he does not think it impossible there may be Stars whose Light is not yet travelled down to us, since their first Creation. There is no Question but the Universe has certain Bounds set to it; but when we consider that it is the Work of infinite Power, prompted by infinite Goodness, with an infinite Space to exert it self in, how can our Imagination set any Bounds to it?

To return therefore to my first Thought, I could not but look upon myself with secret Horrour, as a Being that was not worth the smallest Regard of one who had so great a Work under his Care and Superintendency. I was afraid of being overlooked amidst the Immensity of Nature, and lost among that infinite Variety of Creatures, which in all Probability swarm through all these immeasurable Regions of Matter.

In order to recover my self from this mortifying Thought, I considered that it took its Rise from those narrow Conceptions, which we are apt to entertain of the Divine Nature. We our selves cannot attend to many different Objects at the same Time. If we are careful to inspect some Things, we must of Course neglect others. This Imperfection which we observe in our selves, is an Imperfection that cleaves in some Degree to Creatures of the highest Capacities, as they are Creatures, that is, Beings of finite and limited Natures. The Presence of every created Being is confined to a certain Measure of Space, and consequently his Observation is stinted to a certain number of Objects. The Sphere in which we move, and act, and understand, is of a wider Circumference to one Creature than another, according as we rise one above another in the Scale of Existence. But the widest of these our Spheres has its Circumference. When therefore we reflect on the Divine Nature, we are so used and accustomed to this Imperfection in our selves, that we cannot forbear in some measure ascribing it to him in whom there is no shadow of Imperfection. Our Reason indeed assures us that his Attributes are Infinite, but the Poorness of our Conceptions is such, that it cannot forbear setting Bounds to every Thing it contemplates, till our Reason comes again to our Succour, and throws down all those little Prejudices which rise in us unawares, and are natural to the Mind of Man.

We shall therefore utterly extinguish this melancholy Thought, of our being overlooked by our Maker in the Multiplicity of his Works, and the Infinity of those Objects among which he seems to be incessantly employed, if we consider, in the first Place, that he is Omnipresent; and, in the second, that he is Omniscient.

If we consider him in his Omnipresence: His Being passes through, actuates, and supports the whole Frame of Nature. His Creation, and every Part of it, is full of him. There is nothing he has made, that is either so distant, so little, or so inconsiderable, which he does not essentially inhabit. His Substance is within the Substance of every Being, whether material, or immaterial, and as intimately present to it as that Being is to it self. It would be an Imperfection in him, were he able to remove out of one Place into another, or to withdraw himself from any Thing he has created, or from any Part of that Space which is diffused and spread abroad to Infinity. In short, to speak of him in the Language of the old Philosopher, he is a Being whose Centre is every where, and his Circumference no where.

In the second Place, he is Omniscient as well as Omnipresent. His Omniscience indeed necessarily and naturally flows from his Omnipresence; he cannot but be conscious of every Motion that arises in the whole material World, which he thus essentially pervades, and of every Thought that is stirring in the intellectual World, to every Part of which he is thus intimately united. Several Moralists have considered the Creation as the Temple of God, which he has built with his own Hands, and which is filled with his Presence. Others have considered infinite Space as the Receptacle, or rather the Habitation of the Almighty: But the noblest and most exalted Way of considering this infinite Space is that of Sir Isaac Newton, who calls it the Sensorium of the Godhead. Brutes and Men have their Sensoriola, or little Sensoriums, by which they apprehend the Presence and perceive the Actions of a few Objects, that lie contiguous to them. Their Knowledge and Observation turns within a very narrow Circle. But as God Almighty cannot but perceive and know every Thing in which he resides, Infinite Space gives Room to Infinite Knowledge, and is, as it were, an Organ to Omniscience.

Were the Soul separate from the Body, and with one Glance of Thought should start beyond the Bounds of the Creation, should it for Millions of Years continue its Progress through Infinite Space with the same Activity, it would still find it self within the Embrace of its Creator, and encompassed round with the Immensity of the Godhead. Whilst we are in the Body he is not less present with us, because he is concealed from us.

O that I knew where I might find him! says Job. Behold I go forward, but he is not there; and backward, but I cannot perceive him. On the left hand, where he does work, but I cannot behold him: he hideth himself on the right hand, that I cannot see him.

In short, Reason as well as Revelation assures us, that he cannot be absent from us, notwithstanding he is undiscovered by us.

In this Consideration of God Almighty's Omnipresence and Omniscience every uncomfortable Thought vanishes. He cannot but regard every Thing that has Being, especially such of his Creatures who fear they are not regarded by him. He is privy to all their Thoughts, and to that Anxiety of Heart in particular, which is apt to trouble them on this Occasion: For, as it is impossible he should overlook any of his Creatures, so we may be confident that he regards, with an Eye of Mercy, those who endeavour to recommend themselves to his Notice, and in an unfeigned Humility of Heart think themselves unworthy that he should be mindful of them.



* * * * *



No. 566. Monday, July 12, 1714.



'Militia Species Amor est.'

Ovid.



As my Correspondents begin to grow pretty numerous, I think my self obliged to take some Notice of them, and shall therefore make this Paper a Miscellany of Letters. I have, since my reassuming the Office of SPECTATOR, received abundance of Epistles from Gentlemen of the Blade, who, I find, have been so used to Action that they know not how to lie still: They seem generally to be of Opinion, that the Fair at home ought to reward them for their Services abroad, and that, till the Cause of their Country calls them again into the Field, they have a sort of Right to Quarter themselves upon the Ladies. In Order to favour their Approaches, I am desired by some to enlarge upon the Accomplishments of their Profession, and by others to give them my Advice in the carrying on of their Attacks. But let us hear what the Gentlemen say for themselves.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

'Tho' it may look somewhat perverse amidst the Arts of Peace, to talk too much of War, it is but Gratitude to pay the last Office to its Manes, since even Peace it self is, in some Measure, obliged to it for its Being.

'You have, in your former Papers, always recommended the Accomplished to the Favour of the Fair; and, I hope, you will allow me to represent some Part of a Military Life not altogether unnecessary to the forming a Gentleman. I need not tell you that in France, whose Fashions we have been formerly so fond of, almost every one derives his Pretences to Merit from the Sword; and that a Man has scarce the Face to make his Court to a Lady, without some Credentials from the Service to recommend him. As the Profession is very ancient, we have Reason to think some of the greatest Men, among the old Romans, derived many of their Virtues from it, their Commanders being frequently, in other Respects, some of the most shining Characters of the Age.

'The Army not only gives a Man Opportunities of exercising those two great Virtues Patience and Courage, but often produces them in Minds where they had scarce any Footing before. I must add, that it is one of the best Schools in the World to receive a general Notion of Mankind in, and a certain Freedom of Behaviour, which is not so easily acquired in any other Place. At the same Time I must own, that some Military Airs are pretty extraordinary, and that a Man who goes into the Army a Coxcomb will come out of it a Sort of Publick Nuisance: But a Man of Sense, or one who before had not been sufficiently used to a mixed Conversation, generally takes the true Turn. The Court has in all Ages been allowed to be the Standard of Good-breeding; and I believe there is not a juster Observation in Monsieur Rochefoucault, than that

'A Man who has been bred up wholly to Business, can never get the Air of a Courtier at Court, but will immediately catch it in the Camp.'

The Reason of this most certainly is, that the very Essence of Good-Breeding and Politeness consists in several Niceties, which are so minute that they escape his Observation, and he falls short of the Original he would copy after; but when he sees the same Things charged and aggravated to a Fault, he no sooner endeavours to come up to the Pattern which is set before him, than, though he stops somewhat short of that, he naturally rests where in reality he ought. I was two or three Days ago, mightily pleased with the Observation of an humourous Gentleman upon one of his Friends, who was in other Respects every way an accomplished Person, That he wanted nothing but a Dash of the Coxcomb in him; by which he understood a little of that Alertness and Unconcern in the common Actions of Life, which is usually so visible among Gentlemen of the Army, and which a Campaign or two would infallibly have given him.

'You will easily guess, Sir, by this my Panegyrick upon a Military Education, that I am my self a Soldier, and indeed I am so; I remember, within three Years after I had been in the Army, I was ordered into the Country a Recruiting. I had very particular Success in this Part of the Service, and was over and above assured, at my going away, that I might have taken a young Lady, who was the most considerable Fortune in the County, along with me. I preferred the Pursuit of Fame at that time to all other Considerations, and tho' I was not absolutely bent on a Wooden Leg, resolved at least to get a Scar or two for the good of Europe. I have at present as much as I desire of this Sort of Honour, and if you could recommend me effectually, should be well enough contented to pass the Remainder of my Days in the Arms of some dear kind Creature, and upon a pretty Estate in the Country: This, as I take it, would be following the Example of Lucius Cincinnatus, the old Roman Dictator, who at the End of a War left the Camp to follow the Plow. I am, Sir, with all imaginable Respect,

Your most Obedient, Humble Servant,

Will. Warly.



Mr. SPECTATOR,

'I am an Half-pay Officer, and am at present with a Friend in the Country. Here is a rich Widow in the Neighbourhood, who has made Fools of all the Fox-hunters within fifty Miles of her. She declares she intends to marry, but has not yet been asked by the Man she could like. She usually admits her humble Admirers to an Audience or two, but, after she has once given them Denial will never see them more. I am assured by a Female Relation, that I shall have fair Play at her; but as my whole Success Depends on my first Approaches, I desire your Advice, whether I had best Storm or proceed by way of Sap.

I am, SIR, Yours, &c.

'P. S. I had forgot to tell you, that I have already carried one of her Outworks, that is, secured her Maid.



Mr. SPECTATOR,

'I have assisted in several Sieges in the Low-Countries, and being still willing to employ my Talents, as a Soldier and Engineer, lay down this Morning at Seven a Clock before the Door of an obstinate Female, who had for some time refused me Admittance. I made a Lodgment in an outer Parlour about Twelve: The Enemy retired to her Bed-Chamber, yet I still pursued, and about two a-Clock this Afternoon she thought fit to Capitulate. Her Demands are indeed somewhat high, in Relation to the Settlement of her Fortune. But being in Possession of the House, I intend to insist upon Carte-Blanche, and am in hopes, by keeping off all other Pretenders for the Space of twenty four Hours, to starve her into a Compliance. I beg your speedy Advice, and am,

SIR, Yours, Peter Push.

From my Camp in _Red-Lion_ Square, Saturday_ 4, in the Afternoon.



* * * * *



No. 567. Wednesday, July 14, 1714. Addison.



'—Inceptus clamor frustratur hiantes.'

Virg.



I have received private Advice from some of my Correspondents, that if I would give my Paper a general Run, I should take care to season it with Scandal. I have indeed observed of late, that few Writings sell which are not filled with great Names and illustrious Titles. The Reader generally casts his Eye upon a new Book, and if he finds several Letters separated from one another by a Dash, he buys it up, and peruses it with great Satisfaction. An M and an h, a T and an r [1], with a short Line between them, has sold many an Insipid Pamphlet. Nay I have known a whole Edition go off by vertue of two or three well written &c—'s.

A sprinkling of the Words Faction, Frenchman, Papist, Plunderer, and the like significant Terms, in an Italick Character, have also a very good Effect upon the Eye of the [Purchaser; [2]] not to mention Scribler, Lier, Rogue, Rascal, Knave, and Villain, without which it is impossible to carry on a Modern Controversie.

Our Party-writers are so sensible of the secret Vertue of an Innuendo to recommend their Productions, that of late they never mention the Q—n or P—l at length, though they speak of them with Honour, and with that Deference which is due to them from every private Person. It gives a secret Satisfaction to a Peruser of these mysterious Works, that he is able to decipher them without help, and, by the Strength of his own natural Parts, to fill up a Blank-Space, or make out a Word that has only the first or last Letter to it.

Some of our Authors indeed, when they would be more Satyrical than ordinary, omit only the Vowels of a great Man's Name, and fall most unmercifully upon all the Consonants. This way of Writing was first of all introduced by T-m Br-wn, of facetious Memory, who, after having gutted a proper Name of all its intermediate Vowels, used to plant it in his Works, and make as free with it as he pleased, without any Danger of the Statute.

That I may imitate these celebrated Authors, and publish a Paper which shall be more taking than ordinary, I have here drawn up a very curious Libel, in which a Reader of Penetration will find a great deal of concealed Satyr, and if he be acquainted with the present Posture of Affairs, will easily discover the Meaning of it.

'If there are four Persons in the Nation who endeavour to bring all things into Confusion, and ruin their native Country, I think every honest Engl-shm-n ought to be upon his Guard. That there are such, every one will agree with me, who hears me name *** with his first Friend and Favourite ***, not to mention *** nor ***. These People may cry Ch-rch, Ch-rch, as long as they please, but, to make use of a homely Proverb, The Proof of the P-dd-ng is in the eating. This I am sure of, that if a certain Prince should concur with a certain Prelate, (and we have Monsieur Z—n's Word for it) our Posterity would be in a sweet P-ckle. Must the British Nation suffer forsooth, because my Lady Q-p-t-s has been disobliged? Or is it reasonable that our English Fleet, which used to be the Terror of the Ocean, should lie Windbound for the sake of a—. I love to speak out and declare my Mind clearly, when I am talking for the Good of my Country. I will not make my Court to an ill Man, tho' he were a B—y or a T—t. Nay, I would not stick to call so wretched a Politician, a Traitor, an Enemy to his Country, and a Bl-nd-rb-ss, &c., &c.

The remaining Part of this Political Treatise, which is written after the manner of the most celebrated Authors in Great Britain, I may communicate to the Publick at a more convenient Season. In the mean while I shall leave this with my curious Reader, as some ingenious Writers do their Enigmas, and if any sagacious Person can fairly unriddle it, I will print his Explanation, and, if he pleases, acquaint the World with his Name.

I hope this short Essay will convince my Readers, it is not for want of Abilities that I avoid State-tracts, and that if I would apply my Mind to it, I might in a little time be as great a Master of the Political Scratch as any the most eminent Writer of the Age. I shall only add, that in order to outshine all this Modern Race of Syncopists, and thoroughly content my English Readers, I intend shortly to publish a SPECTATOR, that shall not have a single Vowel in it.



[Footnote 1: For 'Marlborough' and 'Treasurer.']

[Footnote 2: [Reader.]]



* * * * *



No. 568. Friday, July 16, 1714. Addison.



'—Dum recitas, incipit esse Tuus—'

Mart.



I was Yesterday in a Coffee-House not far from the Royal Exchange, where I observed three Persons in close Conference over a Pipe of Tobacco; upon which, having filled one for my own use, I lighted it at the little Wax Candle that stood before them; and after having thrown in two or three Whiffs amongst them, sat down and made one of the Company. I need not tell my Reader, that lighting a Man's Pipe at the same Candle, is looked upon among Brother-smokers as an Overture to Conversation and Friendship. As we here lay our Heads together in a very amicable Manner, being intrenched under a Cloud of our own raising, I took up the last SPECTATOR, and casting my Eye over it, The SPECTATOR, says I, is very witty to-Day; upon which a lusty lethargick old Gentleman, who sat at the Upper-end of the Table, having gradually blown out of his Mouth a great deal of Smoke, which he had been collecting for some Time before, Ay, says he, more witty than wise I am afraid. His Neighbour who sat at his right Hand immediately coloured, and being an angry Politician, laid down his Pipe with so much Wrath that he broke it in the Middle, and by that Means furnished me with a Tobacco-stopper. I took it up very sedately, and looking him full in the Face, made use of it from Time to Time all the while he was speaking: This fellow, says he, can't for his Life keep out of Politicks. Do you see how he abuses four great Men here? I fix'd my Eye very attentively on the Paper, and asked him if he meant those who were represented by Asterisks. Asterisks, says he, do you call them? they are all of them Stars. He might as well have put Garters to 'em. Then pray do but mind the two or three next Lines? Ch-rch and P-dd-ing in the same Sentence! Our Clergy are very much beholden to him. Upon this the third Gentleman, who was of a mild Disposition, and, as I found, a Whig in his Heart, desired him not to be too severe upon the SPECTATOR neither; For, says he, you find he is very cautious of giving Offence, and has therefore put two Dashes into his Pudding. A Fig for his Dash, says the angry Politician. In his next Sentence he gives a plain Innuendo, that our Posterity will be in a sweet P-ckle. What does the Fool mean by his Pickle? Why does not he write it at length, if he means honestly? I have read over the whole Sentence, says I; but I look upon the Parenthesis in the Belly of it to be the most dangerous Part, and as full of Insinuations as it can hold. But who, says I, is my Lady Q-p-t-s? Ay, Answer that if you can, Sir, says the furious Statesman to the poor Whig that sate over-against him. But without giving him Time to reply, I do assure you, says he, were I my Lady Q-p-t-s, I would sue him for Scandalum Magnatum. What is the World come to? Must every Body be allowed to—? He had by this time filled a new Pipe and applying it to his Lips, when we expected the last Word of his Sentence, put us off with a Whiff of Tobacco; which he redoubled with so much Rage and Trepidation, that he almost stifled the whole Company. After a short Pause, I owned that I thought the SPECTATOR had gone too far in writing so many Letters of my Lady Q-p-t-s's Name; but however, says I, he has made a little Amends for it in his next Sentence, where he leaves a blank Space without so much as a Consonant to direct us? I mean, says I, after those Words, The Fleet, that used to be the Terrour of the Ocean, should be Wind-bound for the sake of a—; after which ensues a Chasm, that in my Opinion looks modest enough. Sir, says my Antagonist, you may easily know his Meaning by his Gaping; I suppose he designs his Chasm, as you call it, for an Hole to creep out at, but I believe it will hardly serve his Turn. Who can endure to see the great Officers of State, the B—y's and T—t's treated after so scurrilous a Manner? I can't for my Life, says I, imagine who they are the SPECTATOR means? No! says he,—Your humble Servant, Sir! Upon which he flung himself back in his Chair after a contemptuous Manner, and smiled upon the old lethargick Gentleman on his left Hand, who I found was his great Admirer. The Whig however had begun to conceive a Good-will towards me, and seeing my Pipe out, very generously offered me the Use of his Box; but I declined it with great Civility, being obliged to meet a Friend about that Time in another Quarter of the City.

At my leaving the Coffee-house, I could not forbear reflecting with my self upon that gross Tribe of Fools who may be termed the Overwise, and upon the Difficulty of writing any thing in this censorious Age, which a weak Head may not construe into private Satyr and personal Reflection.

A Man who has a good Nose at an Innuendo, smells Treason and Sedition in the most innocent Words that can be put together, and never sees a Vice or Folly stigmatized, but finds out one or other of his Acquaintance pointed at by the Writer. I remember an empty pragmatical Fellow in the Country, who upon reading over the whole Duty of Man, had written the Names of several Persons in the Village at the Side of every Sin which is mentioned by that excellent Author; so that he had converted one of the best Books in the World into a Libel against the 'Squire, Church-wardens, Overseers of the Poor, and all other the most considerable Persons in the Parish. This Book with these extraordinary marginal Notes fell accidentally into the Hands of one who had never seen it before; upon which there arose a current Report that Somebody had written a Book against the 'Squire and the whole Parish. The Minister of the Place having at that Time a Controversy with some of his Congregation upon the Account of his Tythes, was under some Suspicion of being the Author, 'till the good Man set his People right by shewing them that the satyrical Passages might be applied to several others of two or three neighbouring Villages, and that the Book was writ against all the Sinners in England.



* * * * *



No. 569. Monday, July 19, 1714. Addison.



'Reges dicuntur multis urgere culullis Et torquere mero, quem perspexisse laborent, An sit amicitia dignus—'

Hor.



No Vices are so incurable as those which Men are apt to glory in. One would wonder how Drunkenness should have the good Luck to be of this Number. Anacharsis, being invited to a Match of Drinking at Corinth, demanded the Prize very humorously, because he was drunk before any of the rest of the Company: for, says he, when we run a Race, he who arrives at the Goal first is entitled to the Reward. On the contrary, in this thirsty Generation, the Honour falls upon him who carries off the greatest Quantity of Liquor, and knocks down the rest of the Company. I was the other Day with honest Will. Funnell the West Saxon, who was reckoning up how much Liquor had past through him in the last twenty Years of his Life, which, according to his Computation, amounted to twenty three Hogsheads of October, four Ton of Port, half a Kilderkin of small Beer, nineteen Barrels of Cider, and three Glasses of Champaign; besides which, he had assisted at four hundred Bowls of Punch, not to mention Sips, Drams, and Whets without Number. I question not but every Reader's Memory will suggest to him several ambitious young Men, who are as vain in this Particular as Will. Funnell, and can boast of as glorious Exploits.

Our modern Philosophers observe, that there is a general Decay of Moisture in the Globe of the Earth. This they chiefly ascribe to the Growth of Vegetables, which incorporate into their own Substance many fluid Bodies that never return again to their former Nature: But, with Submission, they ought to throw into their Account those innumerable rational Beings which fetch their Nourishment chiefly out of Liquids; especially when we consider that Men, compared with their Fellow-Creatures, drink much more than comes to their Share.

But however highly this Tribe of People may think of themselves, a drunken Man is a greater Monster than any that is to be found among all the Creatures which God has made; as indeed there is no Character which appears more despicable and deformed, in the Eyes of all reasonable Persons, than that of a Drunkard. Bonosus, one of our own Countrymen, who was addicted to this Vice, having set up for a Share in the Roman Empire, and being defeated in a great Battle, hang'd himself. When he was seen by the Army in this melancholy Situation, notwithstanding he had behaved himself very bravely, the common Jest was, That the Thing they saw hanging upon the Tree before them, was not a Man but a Bottle. This Vice has very fatal Efects on the Mind, the Body, and Fortune of the Person who is devoted to it.

In regard to the Mind, it first of all discovers every Flaw in it. The sober Man, by the Strength of Reason, may keep under and subdue every Vice or Folly to which he is most inclined; but Wine makes every latent Seed sprout up in the Soul, and shew it self. It gives Fury to the Passions, and Force to those Objects which are apt to produce them. When a young Fellow complained to an old Philosopher that his Wife was not handsome, Put less Water in your Wine, says the Philosopher, and you'll quickly make her so. Wine heightens Indifference into Love, Love into Jealousy, and Jealousy into Madness. It often turns the Good-natured Man into an Ideot, and the Cholerick into an Assassin. It gives Bitterness to Resentment, it makes Vanity insupportable, and displays every little Spot of the Soul in its utmost Deformity. Nor does this Vice only betray the hidden Faults of a Man, and shew them in the most odious Colours, but often occasions Faults to which he is not naturally subject. There is more of Turn than of Truth in a Saying of Seneca, That Drunkenness does not produce but discover Faults. Common Experience teaches us the contrary. Wine throws a Man out of himself, and infuses Qualities into the Mind, which she is a Stranger to in her sober Moments. The Person you converse with, after the third Bottle, is not the same Man who at first sat down at Table with you. Upon this Maxim is founded one of the prettiest Sayings I ever met with, which is ascribed to Publius Syrus, Qui ebrium ludificat ladit absentem; He who jests upon a Man that is Drunk, injures the Absent.

Thus does Drunkenness act in direct Contradiction to Reason, whose Business it is to clear the Mind of every Vice which is crept into it, and to guard it against all the Approaches of any that endeavours to make its Entrance. But besides these ill Effects which this Vice produces in the Person who is actually under its Dominion, it has also a bad Influence on the Mind even in its sober Moments, as it insensibly weakens the Understanding, impairs the Memory, and makes those Faults habitual which are produced by frequent Excesses.

I should now proceed to shew the ill Effects which this Vice has on the Bodies and Fortunes of Men; but these I shall reserve for the Subject of some future Paper.



* * * * *



No. 570. Wednesday, July 21, 1714.



'—Nugaque canora—'

Hor.



There is scarce a Man living who is not actuated by Ambition. When this Principle meets with an honest Mind and great Abilities, it does infinite Service to the World; on the contrary, when a Man only thinks of distinguishing himself, without being thus qualified for it, he becomes a very pernicious or a very ridiculous Creature. I shall here confine my self to that petty kind of Ambition, by which some Men grow eminent for odd Accomplishments and trivial Performances. How many are there whose whole Reputation depends upon a Punn or a Quibble? You may often see an Artist in the Streets gain a Circle of Admirers, by carrying a long Pole upon his Chin or Forehead in a perpendicular Posture. Ambition has taught some to write with their Feet, and others to walk upon their Hands. Some tumble into Fame, others grow immortal by throwing themselves through a Hoop.

'Caetera de genere hoc adeo sunt multa, loquacem Delassare valent Fabium—'

I am led into this Train of Thought by an Adventure I lately met with.

I was the other Day at a Tavern, where the Master of the House [1] accommodating us himself with every thing we wanted, I accidentally fell into a Discourse with him; and talking of a certain great Man, who shall be nameless, he told me, That he had sometimes the Honour to treat him with a Whistle; (adding by the way of Parenthesis) For you must know, Gentlemen, that I whistle the best of any Man in Europe. This naturally put me upon desiring him to give us a Sample of his Art; upon which he called for a Case-Knife, and applying the Edge of it to his Mouth, converted it into a musical Instrument, and entertained me with an Italian Solo. Upon laying down the Knife, he took up a Pair of clean Tobacco Pipes; and after having slid the small End of them over the Table in a most melodious Trill, he fetched a Tune out of them, whistling to them at the same time in Consort. In short, the Tobacco-Pipes became Musical Pipes in the Hands of our Virtuoso; who confessed to me ingenuously, he had broke such Quantities of them, that he had almost broke himself, before he had brought this Piece of Musick to any tolerable Perfection. I then told him I would bring a Company of Friends to dine with him the next Week, as an Encouragement to his Ingenuity; upon which he thanked me, saying, That he would provide himself with a new Frying-Pan against that Day. I replied, That it was no matter; Roast and Boiled would serve our Turn. He smiled at my Simplicity, and told me, That it was his Design to give us a Tune upon it. As I was surprised at such a Promise, he sent for an old Frying-Pan, and grating it upon the Board, whistled to it in such a melodious Manner, that you could scarce distinguish it from a Base-Viol. He then took his Seat with us at the Table, and hearing my Friend that was with me humm over a Tune to himself, he told him if he would sing out he would accompany his Voice with a Tobacco-Pipe. As my Friend has an agreeable Base, he chose rather to sing to the Frying-Pan; and indeed between them they made up a most extraordinary Consort. Finding our Landlord so great a Proficient in Kitchen-Musick, I asked him if he was Master of the Tongs and Key. He told Me that he had laid it down some Years since, as a little unfashionable: but that if I pleased he would give me a Lesson upon the Gridiron. He then informed me that he had added two Bars to the Gridiron, in order to give it a greater Compass of Sound; and I perceived was as well pleased with the Invention, as Sappho could have been upon adding two Strings to the Lute. To be short, I found that his whole Kitchen was furnished with musical Instruments; and could not but look upon this Artist as a kind of Burlesque Musician.

He afterwards of his own Accord fell into the Imitation of several Singing-Birds. My Friend and I toasted our Mistresses to the Nightingale, when all of a sudden we were surpriz'd with the musick of the Thrush. He next proceeded to the Sky-Lark, mounting up by a proper Scale of Notes, and afterwards falling to the Ground with a very easy and regular Descent. He then contracted his Whistle to the Voice of several Birds of the smallest Size. As he is a Man of a larger Bulk and higher Stature than ordinary, you would fancy him a Giant when you look'd upon him, and a Tom Tit when you shut your Eyes. I must not omit acquainting my Reader, that this accomplished Person was formerly the Master of a Toy-shop near Temple-Bar; and that the famous Charles Mathers was bred up under him. I am told that the Misfortunes which he has met with in the World, are chiefly owing to his great Application to his Musick; and therefore cannot but recommend him to my Readers as one who deserves their Favour, and may afford them great Diversion over a Bottle of Wine, which he sells at the Queen's Arms, near the End of the little Piazza in Covent-Garden.



[Footnote 1: Named Daintry. He was of the trained bands, and commonly known as Captain Daintry.]



* * * * *



No. 571. Friday, July 23, 1714. Addison.



'—Coelum quid querimus ultra?'

Luc.



As the Work I have engaged in, will not only consist of Papers of Humour and Learning, but of several Essays Moral and Divine, I shall publish the following one, which is founded on a former SPECTATOR [1], and sent me by a particular Friend, not questioning but it will please such of my Readers, as think it no Disparagement to their Understandings to give way sometimes to a serious Thought.

SIR,

In your Paper of Friday the 9th Instant, you had Occasion to consider the Ubiquity of the Godhead, and at the same time, to shew, that as he is present to every thing, he cannot but be attentive to every thing, and privy to all the Modes and Parts of its Existence; or, in other Words, that his Omniscience and Omnipresence are coexistent, and run together through the whole Infinitude of Space. This Consideration might furnish us with many Incentives to Devotion and Motives to Morality, but as this Subject has been handled by several excellent Writers, I shall consider it in a Light wherein I have not seen it placed by others.

First, How disconsolate is the Condition of an intellectual Being who is thus present with his Maker, but at the same time receives no extraordinary Benefit or Advantage from this his Presence!

Secondly, How deplorable is the Condition of an intellectual Being, who feels no other Effects from this his Presence but such as proceed from Divine Wrath and Indignation!

Thirdly, How happy is the Condition of that intellectual Being, who is sensible of his Maker's Presence from the secret Effects of his Mercy and Loving-kindness!

First, How disconsolate is the Condition of an intellectual Being, who is thus present with his Maker, but at the same time receives no extraordinary Benefit or Advantage from this his Presence! Every Particle of Matter is actuated by this Almighty Being which passes through it. The Heavens and the Earth, the Stars and Planets, move and gravitate by Vertue of this great Principle within them. All the dead Parts of Nature are invigorated by the Presence of their Creator, and made capable of exerting their respective Qualities. The several Instincts, in the brute Creation, do likewise operate and work towards the several Ends which are agreeable to them, by this Divine Energy. Man only, who does not co-operate with this holy Spirit, and is unattentive to his Presence, receives none of those Advantages from it, which are perfective of his Nature, and necessary to his Well-being. The Divinity is with him, and in him, and everywhere about him, but of no Advantage to him. It is the same thing to a Man without Religion, as if there were no God in the World. It is indeed impossible for an infinite Being to remove himself from any of his Creatures, but tho' he cannot withdraw his Essence from us, which would argue an Imperfection in him, he can withdraw from us all the Joys and Consolations of it. His Presence may perhaps be necessary to support us in our Existence; but he may leave this our Existence to it self, with regard to its Happiness or Misery. For, in this Sense, he may cast us away from his Presence, and take his holy Spirit from us. This single Consideration one would think sufficient to make us open our Hearts to all those Infusions of Joy and Gladness which are so near at Hand, and ready to be poured in upon us; especially when we consider,

Secondly, The deplorable Condition of an intellectual Being who feels no other Effects from his Maker's Presence, but such as proceed from Divine Wrath and Indignation!

We may assure our selves, that the great Author of Nature will not always be as one who is indifferent to any of his Creatures. Those who will not feel him in his Love, will be sure at length to feel him in his Displeasure. And how dreadful is the Condition of that Creature, who is only sensible of the Being of his Creator by what he suffers from him! He is as essentially present in Hell as in Heaven, but the Inhabitants of those accursed Places behold him only in his Wrath, and shrink within the Flames to conceal themselves from him. It is not in the Power of Imagination to conceive the fearful Effects of Omnipotence incensed.

But I shall only consider the Wretchedness of an intellectual Being, who, in this Life, lies under the Displeasure of him, that at all Times and in all Places is intimately united with him. He is able to disquiet the Soul, and vex it in all its Faculties. He can hinder any of the greatest Comforts of Life from refreshing us, and give an Edge to every one of its slightest Calamities. Who then can bear the Thought of being an Out-cast from his Presence, that is, from the Comforts of it, or of feeling it only in its Terrors? How pathetick is that Expostulation of Job, when, for the Tryal of his Patience, he was made to look upon himself in this deplorable Condition!

Why hast thou set me as a Mark against thee, so that I am become a Burthen to my self?

But, Thirdly, how happy is the Condition of that intellectual Being, who is sensible of his Maker's Presence from the secret Effects of his Mercy and Loving-kindness.

The Blessed in Heaven behold him Face to Face; that is, are as sensible of his Presence as we are of the Presence of any Person whom we look upon with our Eyes. There is doubtless a Faculty in Spirits, by which they apprehend one another, as our Senses do material Objects; and there is no Question but our Souls, when they are disembodied, or placed in glorified Bodies, will by this Faculty, in whatever Part of Space they reside, be always sensible of the Divine Presence. We, who have this Veil of Flesh standing between us and the World of Spirits, must be Content to know that the Spirit of God is present with us, by the Effects which he produces in us. Our outward Senses are too gross to apprehend him; we may however taste and see how gracious he is, by his Influence upon our Minds, by those Virtuous Thoughts which he awakens in us, by those secret Comforts and Refreshments which he conveys into our Souls, and by those ravishing Joys and inward Satisfactions, which are perpetually springing up, and diffusing themselves among all the Thoughts of good Men. He is lodged in our very Essence, and is as a Soul within the Soul, to irradiate its Understanding, rectifie its Will, purifie its Passions, and enliven all the Powers of Man. How happy therefore is an intellectual Being, who, by Prayer and Meditation, by Virtue and good Works, opens this Communication between God and his own Soul! Tho' the whole Creation frowns upon him, and all Nature looks black about him, he has his Light and Support within him, that are able to cheer his Mind, and bear him up in the Midst of all those Horrors which encompass him. He knows that his Helper is at Hand, and is always nearer to him than any thing else can be, which is capable of annoying or terrifying him. In the Midst of Calumny or Contempt, he attends to that Being who whispers better things within his Soul, and whom he looks upon as his Defender, his Glory, and the Lifter up of his Head. In his deepest Solitude and Retirement, he knows that he is in Company with the greatest of Beings; and perceives within himself such real Sensations of his Presence, as are more delightful than any thing that can be met with in the Conversation of his Creatures. Even in the Hour of Death, he considers the Pains of his Dissolution to be nothing else but the breaking down of that Partition, which stands betwixt his Soul, and the Sight of that Being, who is always present with him, and is about to manifest it self to him in Fullness of Joy.

If we would be thus Happy, and thus Sensible of our Maker's Presence, from the secret Effects of his Mercy and Goodness, we must keep such a Watch over all our Thoughts, that, in the Language of the Scripture, his Soul may have Pleasure in us. We must take care not to grieve his Holy Spirit, and endeavour to make the Meditations of our Hearts always acceptable in his Sight, that he may delight thus to reside and dwell in us. The Light of Nature could direct Seneca to this Doctrine, in a very remarkable Passage among his Epistles:

Sacer inest in nobis spiritus bonorum malorumque custos, et Observator, et quemadmodum nos illum tractamus, ita et ille nos [2].

There is a Holy Spirit residing in us, who watches and observes both Good and Evil Men, and will treat us after the same Manner that we treat him. But I shall conclude this Discourse with those more emphatical Words in Divine Revelation,

If a Man love me, he will keep my Word, and my Father will love him, and we will come unto him, and make our Abode with him [3].



[Footnote 1: No. 565, and see Nos. 580, 590, and 628.]

[Footnote 2: Ep. 41. To Lucilius. 'Deum in viro bono sedere.']

[Footnote 3: John xiv. 23.]



* * * * *



No. 572. Monday, July 26, 1714. Z. Pearce [3].



'—Quod medicorum est Promittant medici—'

Hor.



I am the more pleased with these my Papers, since I find they have encouraged several Men of Learning and Wit to become my Correspondents: I Yesterday received the following Essay against Quacks, which I shall here communicate to my Readers for the Good of the Publick, begging the Writer's Pardon for those Additions and Retrenchments which I have made in it.

The Desire of Life is so natural and strong a Passion, that I have long since ceased to wonder at the great Encouragement which the Practice of Physick finds among us. Well-constituted Governments have always made the Profession of a Physician both honourable and advantageous. Homer's Machaon and Virgil's Japis were Men of Renown, Heroes in War, and made at least as much Havock among their Enemies as among their Friends. Those who have little or no Faith in the Abilities of a Quack will apply themselves to him, either because he is willing to sell Health at a reasonable Profit, or because the Patient, like a drowning Man, catches at every Twig, and hopes for Relief from the most Ignorant, when the most able Physicians give him none. Though Impudence and many Words are as necessary to these Itinerary Galens as a laced Hat or a Merry Andrew, yet they would turn very little to the Advantage of the Owner, if there were not some inward Disposition in the sick Man to favour the Pretensions of the Mountebank. Love of Life in the one, and of Mony in the other, creates a good Correspondence between them.

There is scarce a City in Great-Britain but has one of this Tribe, who takes it into his Protection, and on the Market-Day harangues the good People of the Place with Aphorisms and Receipts. You may depend upon it, he comes not there for his own private Interest, but out of a particular Affection to the Town. I remember one of those Public-spirited Artists at Hammersmith, who told his Audience 'that he had been born and bred there, and that having a special Regard for the Place of his Nativity, he was determined to make a Present of five Shillings to as many as would accept of it.' The whole Crowd stood agape, and ready to take the Doctor at his Word; when putting his Hand into a long Bag, as every one was expecting his Crown-Piece, he drew out an handful of little Packets, each of which he informed the Spectators was constantly sold at five Shillings and six pence, but that he would bate the odd five Shillings to every Inhabitant of that Place: The whole Assembly immediately closed with this generous Offer, and took off all his Physick, after the Doctor had made them vouch for one another, that there were no Foreigners among them, but that they were all Hammersmith-Men.

There is another Branch of Pretenders to this Art, who, without either Horse or Pickle-Herring, lie snug in a Garret, and send down Notice to the World of their extraordinary Parts and Abilities by printed Bills and Advertisements. These seem to have derived their Custom from an Eastern Nation which Herodotus speaks of, among whom it was a Law, that whenever any Cure was performed, both the Method of the Cure, and an Account of the Distemper, should be fixed in some Publick Place; but as Customs will corrupt, these our Moderns provide themselves of Persons to attest the Cure, before they publish or make an Experiment of the Prescription. I have heard of a Porter, who serves as a Knight of the Post under one of these Operators, and tho' he was never sick in his Life, has been cured of all the Diseases in the Dispensary. These are the Men whose Sagacity has invented Elixirs of all sorts, Pills and Lozenges, and take it as an Affront if you come to them before you are given over by every Body else. Their Medicines are infallible, and never fail of Success, that is of enriching the Doctor, and setting the Patient effectually at Rest.

I lately dropt into a Coffee-house at Westminster, where I found the Room hung round with Ornaments of this Nature. There were Elixirs, Tinctures, the Anodine Fotus, English Pills, Electuaries, and, in short, more Remedies than I believe there are Diseases. At the Sight of so many Inventions, I could not but imagine my self in a kind of Arsenal or Magazine, where store of Arms were reposited against any sudden Invasion. Should you be attack'd by the Enemy Side-ways, here was an infallible Piece of defensive Armour to cure the Pleurisie: Should a Distemper beat up your Head Quarters, here you might purchase an impenetrable Helmet, or, in the Language of the Artist, a Cephalic Tincture: If your main Body be assaulted, here are various Kinds of Armour in Case of various Onsets. I began to congratulate the present Age upon the Happiness Men might reasonably hope for in Life, when Death was thus in a manner Defeated; and when Pain it self would be of so short a Duration, that it would but just serve to enhance the Value of Pleasure: While I was in these Thoughts, I unluckily called to mind a Story of an Ingenious Gentleman of the last Age, who lying violently afflicted with the Gout, a Person came and offered his Service to Cure him by a Method, which he assured him was Infallible; the Servant who received the Message carried it up to his Master, who enquiring whether the Person came on Foot or in a Chariot; and being informed that he was on Foot: Go, says he, send the Knave about his Business: Was his Method as infallible as he pretends, he would long before now have been in his Coach and Six. In like manner I concluded, that had all these Advertisers arrived to that Skill they pretend to, they would have had no Need for so many Years successively to publish to the World the Place of their Abode, and the Virtues of their Medicines. One of these Gentlemen indeed pretends to an effectual Cure for Leanness: What Effects it may have had upon those who have try'd it I cannot tell; but I am credibly informed, that the Call for it has been so great, that it has effectually cured the Doctor himself of that Distemper. Could each of them produce so good an Instance of the Success of his Medicines, they might soon persuade the World into an Opinion of them.