A Comedian who had gained great Reputation in Parts of Humour, told me, that he had a mighty Mind to act Alexander the Great, and fancied that he should succeed very well in it, if he could strike two or three laughing Features out of his Face: He tried the Experiment, but contracted so very solid a Look by it, that I am afraid he will be fit for no Part hereafter but a Timon of Athens, or a Mute in the Funeral.

I then clapt up an empty fantastic Citizen, in order to qualifie him for an Alderman. He was succeeded by a young Rake of the Middle-Temple, who was brought to me by his Grandmother; but to her great Sorrow and Surprize, he came out a Quaker. Seeing my self surrounded with a Body of Free-thinkers, and Scoffers at Religion, who were making themselves merry at the sober Looks and thoughtful Brows of those who had been in the Cave; I thrust them all in, one after another, and locked the Door upon 'em. Upon my opening it, they all looked, as if they had been frighted out of their Wits, and were marching away with Ropes in their Hands to a Wood that was within Sight of the Place. I found they were not able to bear themselves in their first serious Thoughts; but knowing these would quickly bring them to a better Frame of Mind, I gave them into the Custody of their Friends 'till that happy Change was wrought in them.

The last that was brought to me was a young Woman, who at the first Sight of my short Face fell into an immoderate fit of Laughter, and was forced to hold her Sides all the while her Mother was speaking to me. Upon this I interrupted the old Lady, and taking her Daughter by the Hand, Madam, said I, be pleased to retire into my Closet, while your Mother tells me your Case. I then put her into the Mouth of the Cave, when the Mother, after having begg'd Pardon for the Girl's Rudeness, told me, that she often treated her Father and the gravest of her Relations in the same manner; that she would sit giggling and laughing with her Companions from one End of a Tragedy to the other; nay, that she would sometimes burst out in the Middle of a Sermon, and set the whole Congregation a staring at her. The Mother was going on, when the young Lady came out of the Cave to us with a composed Countenance, and a low Curtsie. She was a Girl of such exuberant Mirth, that her Visit to Trophonius only reduced her to a more than ordinary Decency of Behaviour, and made a very pretty Prude of her. After having performed innumerable Cures, I looked about me with great Satisfaction, and saw all my Patients walking by themselves in a very Pensive and musing Posture, so that the whole Place seem'd covered with Philosophers. I was at length resolv'd to go into the Cave my self, and see what it was that had produced such wonderful Effects upon the Company; but as I was stooping at the Entrance, the Door being something low, I gave such a Nodd in my Chair, that I awaked. After having recovered my self from my first Startle, I was very well pleas'd at the Accident which had befallen me, as not knowing but a little Stay in the Place might have spoiled my SPECTATORS.



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



'—Solemque suum, sua sidera norunt—'

Virg.



I have always taken a particular Pleasure in examining the Opinions which Men of different Religions, different Ages, and different Countries, have entertained concerning the Immortality of the Soul, and the State of Happiness which they promise themselves in another World. For whatever Prejudices and Errors human Nature lies under; we find that either Reason, or Tradition from our first Parents, has discovered to all People something in these great Points which bears Analogy to Truth, and to the Doctrines opened to us by Divine Revelation. I was lately discoursing on this Subject with a learned Person who has been very much conversant among the Inhabitants of the more Western Parts of Africk [1]. Upon his conversing with several in that Country, he tells me that their Notion of Heaven or of a future State of Happiness is this, That every thing we there wish for will immediately present it self to us. We find, say they, our Souls are of such Nature that they require Variety, and are not capable of being always delighted with the same Objects. The Supreme Being therefore, in Compliance with this Taste of Happiness which he has planted in the Soul of Man, will raise up from time to time, say they, every Gratification which it is in the Humour to be pleased with. If we wish to be in Groves or Bowers, among running Streams or Falls of Water, we shall immediately find our selves in the midst of such a Scene as we desire. If we would be entertained with Musick and the Melody of Sounds, the Consort rises upon our Wish, and the whole Region about us is filled with Harmony. In short, every Desire will be followed by Fruition, and whatever a Man's Inclination directs him to will be present with him. Nor is it material whether the Supreme Power creates in Conformity to our Wishes, or whether he only produces such a Change in our Imagination, as makes us believe our selves conversant among those Scenes which delight us. Our Happiness will be the same, whether it proceed from external Objects, or from the Impressions of the Deity upon our own private Fancies. This is the Account which I have received from my learned Friend. Notwithstanding this System of Belief be in general very chimerical and visionary, there is something sublime in its manner of considering the Influence of a Divine Being on a Human Soul. It has also, like most other Opinions of the Heathen World upon these important Points, it has, I say, its Foundation in Truth, as it supposes the Souls of good Men after this Life to be in a State of perfect Happiness, that in this State there will be no barren Hopes, nor fruitless Wishes, and that we shall enjoy every thing we can desire. But the particular Circumstance which I am most pleas'd with in this Scheme, and which arises from a just Reflection upon Human Nature, is that Variety of Pleasures which it supposes the Souls of good Men will be possessed of in another World. This I think highly probable, from the Dictates both of Reason and Revelation. The Soul consists of many Faculties, as the Understanding, and the Will, with all the Senses both outward and inward; or to speak more Philosophically, the Soul can exert herself in many different Ways of Action. She can understand, will, imagine, see, and hear, love, and discourse, and apply herself to many other the like Exercises of different Kinds and Natures; but what is more to be considered, the Soul is capable of receiving a most exquisite Pleasure and Satisfaction from the Exercise of any of these its Powers, when they are gratified with their proper Objects; she can be entirely happy by the Satisfaction of the Memory, the Sight, the Hearing, or any other Mode of Perception. Every Faculty is as a distinct Taste in the Mind, and hath Objects accommodated to its proper Relish. Doctor Tillotson somewhere says that he will not presume to determine in what consists the Happiness of the Blest, because God Almighty is capable of making the Soul happy by Ten thousand different Ways. Besides those several Avenues to Pleasure which the Soul is endowed with in this Life; it is not impossible, according to the Opinions of many eminent Divines, but there may be new Faculties in the Souls of good Men made perfect, as well as new Senses in their glorified Bodies. This we are sure of, that there will be new Objects offer'd to all those Faculties which are essential to us.

We are likewise to take Notice that every particular Faculty is capable of being employed on a very great Variety of Objects. The Understanding, for Example, may be happy in the Contemplation of Moral, Natural, Mathematical, and other Kinds of Truth. The Memory likewise may turn itself to an infinite Multitude of Objects, especially when the Soul shall have pass'd through the Space of many Millions of Years, and shall reflect with Pleasure on the Days of Eternity. Every other Faculty may be consider'd in the same Extent.

We cannot question but that the Happiness of a Soul will be adequate to its Nature, and that it is not endowed with any Faculties which are to lie useless and unemploy'd. The Happiness is to be the Happiness of the whole Man, and we may easily conceive to our selves the Happiness of the Soul, whilst any one of its Faculties is in the Fruition of its chief Good. The Happiness may be of a more exalted Nature in Proportion as the Faculty employed is so, but as the whole Soul acts in the Exertion of any of its particular Powers, the whole Soul is happy in the Pleasure which arises from any of its particular Acts. For notwithstanding, as has been before hinted, and as it has been taken Notice of by one of the greatest modern Philosophers, [2] we divide the Soul into several Powers and Faculties, there is no such Division in the Soul it self, since it is the whole Soul that remembers, understands, wills, or imagines. Our manner of considering the Memory, Understanding, Will, Imagination, and the like Faculties, is for the better enabling us to express our selves in such abstracted Subjects of Speculation, not that there is any such Division in the Soul it self.

Seeing then that the Soul has many different Faculties, or in other Words, many different Ways of acting; that it can be intensely pleas'd, or made happy by all these different Faculties, or Ways of acting; that it may be endow'd with several latent Faculties, which it is not at present in a Condition to exert; that we cannot believe the Soul is endow'd with any Faculty which is of no Use to it; that whenever any one of these Faculties is transcendently pleased, the Soul is in a State of Happiness; and in the last Place considering that the Happiness of another World is to be the Happiness of the whole Man; who can question but that there is an infinite Variety in those Pleasures we are speaking of; and that this Fulness of Joy will be made up of all those Pleasures which the Nature of the Soul is capable of receiving.

We shall be the more confirmed in this Doctrine, if we observe the Nature of Variety, with regard to the Mind of Man. The Soul does not care to be always in the same bent. The Faculties relieve one another by Turns, and receive an additional Pleasure from the Novelty of those Objects about which they are conversant.

Revelation likewise very much confirms this Notion, under the different Views which it gives us of our future Happiness. In the Description of the Throne of God, it represents to us all those Objects which are able to gratify the Senses and Imagination: In very many Places it intimates to us all the Happiness which the Understanding can possibly receive in that State, where all Things shall be revealed to us, and we shall know, even as we are known; the Raptures of Devotion, of Divine Love, the Pleasure of conversing with our Blessed Saviour, with an innumerable Host of Angels, and with the Spirits of Just Men made Perfect, are likewise revealed to us in several Parts of the Holy Writings. There are also mentioned those Hierarchies or Governments, in which the Blest shall be ranged one above another, and in which we may be sure a great Part of our Happiness will likewise consist; for it will not be there as in this World, where every one is aiming at Power and Superiority; but on the contrary, every one will find that Station the most proper for him in which he is placed, and will probably think that he could not have been so happy in any other Station. These and many other Particulars are marked in Divine Revelation, as the several Ingredients of our Happiness in Heaven, which all imply such a Variety of Joys and such a Gratification of the Soul in all its different Faculties, as I have been here mentioning.

Some of the Rabbins tell us, that the Cherubims are a Set of Angels who know most, and the Seraphims a Set of Angels who love most. Whether this Distinction be not altogether Imaginary, I shall not here examine; but it is highly probable that among the Spirits of good Men, there may be some who will be more pleased with the Employment of one Faculty than of another, and this perhaps according to those innocent and virtuous Habits or Inclinations which have here taken the deepest Root.

I might here apply this Consideration to the Spirits of wicked Men, with relation to the Pain which they shall suffer in every one of their Faculties, and the respective Miseries which shall be appropriated to each Faculty in particular. But leaving this to the Reflection of my Readers, I shall conclude, with observing how we ought to be thankful to our great Creator, and rejoice in the Being which he has bestowed upon us, for having made the Soul susceptible of Pleasure by so many different Ways.

We see by what a Variety of Passages, Joy and Gladness may enter into the Thoughts of Man; how wonderfully a human Spirit is framed, to imbibe its proper Satisfactions, and taste the Goodness of its Creator. We may therefore look into our selves with Rapture and Amazement, and cannot sufficiently express our Gratitude to him, who has encompassed us with such a Profusion of Blessings, and opened in us so many Capacities of enjoying them.

There cannot be a stronger Argument that God has designed us for a State of future Happiness, and for that Heaven which he has revealed to us, than that he has thus naturally qualified the Soul for it, and made it a Being capable of receiving so much Bliss. He would never have made such Faculties in vain, and have endowed us with Powers that were not to be exerted on such Objects as are suited to them. It is very manifest, by the inward Frame and Constitution of our Minds, that he has adapted them to an infinite Variety of Pleasures and Gratifications, which are not to be met with in this Life. We should therefore at all times take Care that we do not disappoint this his gracious Purpose and Intention towards us, and make those Faculties which he formed as so many Qualifications for Happiness and Rewards, to be the Instruments of Pain and Punishment.



[Footnote 1: Addison's father, who wrote an account of West Barbary, died in 1703.]

[Footnote 2: Locke.]



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



[Greek: Ho anthropos euergetos pephykos'

Antonin. Lib. 9.]



The following Essay comes from an Hand which has entertained my Readers once before. [1]

Notwithstanding a narrow contracted Temper be that which obtains most in the World, we must not therefore conclude this to be the genuine Characteristick of Mankind; because there are some who delight in nothing so much as in doing Good, and receive more of their Happiness at second hand, or by rebound from others, than by direct and immediate Sensation. Now tho' these Heroic Souls are but few, and to Appearance so far advanced above the groveling Multitude, as if they were of another Order of Beings, yet in Reality their Nature is the same, moved by the same Springs, and endowed with all the same essential Qualities, only cleared, refined, and cultivated.

Water is the same fluid Body in Winter and in Summer; when it stands stiffened in Ice as when it flows along in gentle Streams gladdening a thousand Fields in its Progress. 'Tis a Property of the Heart of Man to be diffusive: Its kind Wishes spread abroad over the Face of the Creation; and if there be those, as we may observe too many of them, who are all wrapt up in their own dear selves, without any visible Concern for their Species, let us suppose that their Good-nature is frozen, and by the prevailing Force of some contrary Quality restrained in its Operations. I shall therefore endeavour to assign some of the principal Checks upon this generous Propension of the Human Soul, which will enable us to judge whether, and by what Method, this most useful Principle may be unfettered, and restored to its native Freedom of Exercise.

The first and leading Cause is an unhappy Complexion of Body. The Heathens, ignorant of the true Source of Moral Evil, generally charged it on the Obliquity of Matter, which, being eternal and independent, was incapable of Change in any of its Properties, even by the Almighty Mind, who, when He came to fashion it into a World of Beings, must take it as he found it. This Notion, as most others of theirs, is a Composition of Truth and Error. That Matter is eternal, that from the first Union of a Soul to it, it perverted its Inclinations, and that the ill Influence it hath upon the Mind is not to be corrected by God himself, are all very great Errors, occasioned by a Truth as evident, that the Capacities and Dispositions of the Soul depend, to a great Degree, on the bodily Temper. As there are some Fools, others are Knaves, by Constitution; and particularly, it may be said of many, that they are born with an illiberal Cast of Mind; the Matter that composes them is tenacious as Birdlime, and a kind of Cramp draws their Hands and their Hearts together, that they never care to open them unless to grasp at more. 'Tis a melancholy Lot this; but attended with one Advantage above theirs, to whom it would be as painful to forbear good Offices, as it is to these Men to perform them; that whereas Persons naturally Beneficent often mistake Instinct for Virtue, by reason of the Difficulty of distinguishing when one rules them and when the other, Men of the opposite Character may be more certain of the Motive that predominates in every Action. If they cannot confer a Benefit with that Ease and Frankness which are necessary to give it a Grace in the Eye of the World, in requital, the real Merit of what they do is inhanc'd by the Opposition they surmount in doing it. The Strength of their Virtue is seen in rising against the Weight of Nature, and every time they have the Resolution to discharge their Duty, they make a Sacrifice of Inclination to Conscience, which is always too grateful to let its Followers go without suitable Marks of its Approbation. Perhaps the entire Cure of this ill Quality is no more possible, than of some Distempers that descend by Inheritance. However, a great deal may be done by a Course of Beneficence obstinately persisted in; this, if any thing, being a likely way of establishing a moral Habit, which shall be somewhat of a Counterpoise to the Force of Mechanism. Only it must be remembred, that we do not intermit, upon any Pretence whatsoever, the Custom of doing Good, in regard if there be the least Cessation, Nature will watch the Opportunity to return, and in a short time to recover the Ground it was so long in quitting: For there is this Difference between mental Habits, and such as have their Foundation in the Body; that these last are in their Nature more forcible and violent, and, to gain upon us, need only not to be opposed; whereas the former must be continually reinforced with fresh Supplies, or they will languish and die away. And this suggests the Reason why good Habits, in general, require longer time for their Settlement than bad, and yet are sooner displaced; the Reason is, that vicious Habits (as Drunkenness for Instance) produce a Change in the Body, which the others not doing, must be maintained the same way they are acquired, by the mere Dint of Industry, Resolution, and Vigilance.

Another Thing which suspends the Operations of Benevolence, is the Love of the World; proceeding from a false Notion Men have taken up, that an Abundance of the World is an essential Ingredient into the Happiness of Life. Worldly Things are of such a Quality as to lessen upon dividing, so that the more Partners there are, the less must fall to every Man's private Share. The Consequence of this is, that they look upon one another with an evil Eye, each imagining all the rest to be embarked in an Interest, that cannot take Place but to his Prejudice. Hence are those eager Competitions for Wealth or Power; hence one Man's Success becomes another's Disappointment; and, like Pretenders to the same Mistress, they can seldom have common Charity for their Rivals. Not that they are naturally disposed to quarrel and fall out, but 'tis natural for a Man to prefer himself to all others, and to secure his own Interest first. If that which Men esteem their Happiness were like the Light, the same sufficient and unconfined Good, whether Ten Thousand enjoy the Benefit of it, or but One, we should see Mens Good-will, and kind Endeavours, would be as universal.

'Homo qui Erranti comiter monstrat Viam, Quasi Lumen de suo Lumine accendat, facit, Nihilominus ipsi luceat, cum illi accenderit.'

But, unluckily, Mankind agree in making Choice of Objects, which inevitably engage them in perpetual Differences. Learn therefore, like a wise Man, the true Estimate of Things. Desire not more of the World than is necessary to accommodate you in passing through it; look upon every thing beyond, not as useless only, but burthensome. Place not your Quiet in Things, which you cannot have without putting others beside them, and thereby making them your Enemies; and which, when attain'd, will give you more Trouble to keep, than Satisfaction in the Enjoyment. Virtue is a Good of a nobler kind; it grows by Communication, and so little resembles earthly Riches, that the more Hands it is lodged in, the greater is every Man's particular Stock. So, by propagating and mingling their Fires, not only all the Lights of a Branch together cast a more extensive Brightness, but each single Light burns with a stronger Flame. And lastly, take this along with you, that if Wealth be an Instrument of Pleasure, the greatest Pleasure it can put into your Power, is that of doing Good. 'Tis worth considering, that the Organs of Sense act within a narrow Compass, and the Appetites will soon say they have enough: which of the two therefore is the happier Man? He, Who confining all his Regard to the Gratification of his own Appetites, is capable but of short Fits of Pleasure? Or the Man, who, reckoning himself a Sharer in the Satisfactions of others, especially those which come to them by his Means, enlarges the Sphere of his Happiness?

The last Enemy to Benevolence I shall mention is Uneasiness of any Kind. A guilty, or a discontented Mind, a Mind ruffled by ill Fortune, disconcerted by its own Passions, sowered by Neglect, or fretting at Disappointments, hath not Leisure to attend to the Necessity or Reasonableness of a Kindness desired, nor a Taste for those Pleasures which wait on Beneficence, which demand a calm and unpolluted Heart to relish them. The most miserable of all Beings is the most envious; as, on the other hand, the most communicative is the happiest. And if you are in search of the Seat of perfect Love and Friendship, you will not find it till you come to the Region of the Blessed, where Happiness, like a refreshing Stream, flows from Heart to Heart in an endless Circulation, and is preserv'd sweet and untainted by the Motion. 'Tis old Advice, if you have a Favour to request of any one, to observe the softest times of Address, when the Soul, in a Flush of good Humour, takes a Pleasure to shew it self pleased. Persons conscious of their own integrity, satisfied with themselves, and their Condition, and full of Confidence in a Supreme Being, and the Hope of Immortality, survey all about them with a Flow of Good-will. As Trees which like their Soil, they shoot out in Expressions of Kindness and bend beneath their own precious Load, to the hand of the Gatherer. Now if the Mind be not thus easie, 'tis an infallible Sign that it is not in its natural State; Place the Mind in its right Posture, it will immediately discover its innate Propension to Beneficence.



[Footnote 1: No. 588.]



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No. 602. Monday, October 4, 1714 Budgell.



'—Facit hoc illos Hyacinthos—'

Juv.



The following Letter comes from a Gentleman, who, I find, is very dilgent in making his Observations, which I think too material not to be communicated to the Publick.

SIR,

'In order to execute the Office of Love-Casuist to Great Britain, with which I take my self to be invested by your Paper of September 8, [1] I shall make some further Observations upon the two Sexes in general, beginning with that which always ought to have the upper Hand. After having observed with much Curiosity the Accomplishments which are apt to captivate female Hearts, I find that there is no Person so irresistable as one who is a Man of Importance, provided it be in Matters of no Consequence. One who makes himself talked of, tho' it be for the particular Cock of his Hat, or for prating aloud in the Boxes at a Play, is in a fair way of being a Favourite. I have known a young Fellow make his Fortune by knocking down a Constable; and may venture to say, tho' it may seem a Paradox, that many a Fair One has died by a Duel in which both the Combatants have survived.

About three Winters ago I took Notice of a young Lady at the Theatre, who convceived of a Passion for a notorious Rake that headed a Party of Cat-calls; and am credibly informed, that the Emperor of the Mohocks married a rich Widow within three Weeks after having rendered himself formidable in the Cities of London and Westminster. Scowring and breaking Windows have done frequent Execution upon the Sex; but there is no Sett of these Male Charmers who make their way more successfully, than those who have gained themselves a Name for Intrigue, and have ruined the greatest Number of Reputations. There is a strange Curiosity in the female World to be acquainted with the dear Man who has been loved by others, and to know what it is that makes him so agreeable. His Reputation does more than half his Business. Every one that is ambitious of being a Woman of Fashion, looks out for Opportunities of being in his Company; so that to use the old Proverb, When his Name is up he may lie a-Bed.

'I was very sensible of the great Advantage of being a Man of Importance upon these Occasions on the Day of the King's Entry, when I was seated in a Balcony behind a Cluster of very pretty Country Ladies, who had one of these showy Gentlemen in the midst of them. The first Trick I caught him at was bowing to several Persons of Quality whom he did not know; nay, he had the Impudence to hem at a Blue Garter who had a finer Equipage than ordinary, and seemed a little concerned at the Impertinent Huzzas of the Mob, that hindered his Friend from taking Notice of him. There was indeed one who pull'd off his Hat to him, and upon the Ladies asking who it was, he told them, it was a Foreign Minister that he had been very merry with the Night before; whereas in Truth, it was the City Common Hunt.

'He was never at a Loss when he was asked any Person's Name, tho' he seldom knew any one under a Peer. He found Dukes and Earls among the Aldermen, very good-natured Fellows among the Privy-Counsellors, with two or three agreeable old Rakes among the Bishops and Judges.

'In short, I collected from his whole Discourse, that he was acquainted with every Body, and knew no Body. At the same Time, I am mistaken if he did not that Day make more Advances in the Affections of his Mistress, who sat near him, than he could have done in half a Year's Courtship.

'Ovid has finely touched this Method of making Love, which I shall here give my Reader in Mr. Dryden's Translation.

Page the Eleventh.

'Thus Love in Theatres did first improve, And Theatres are still the Scene of Love: Nor shun the Chariots, and the Coursers Race; The Circus is no inconvenient Place. Nor Need is there of talking on the Hand, Nor Nods, nor Sighs, which Lovers understand; But boldly next the Fair your Seat provide, Close as you can to hers, and Side by Side: Pleas'd or unpleas'd, no Matter; crowding sit; For so the Laws of publick Shows permit. Then find Occasion to begin Discourse, Enquire whose Chariot this, and whose that Horse; To whatsoever Side she is inclin'd, Suit all your Inclinations to her Mind; Like what she likes, from thence your Court begin, And whom she favours, wish that he may win.'

Again, Page the Sixteenth.

'O when will come the Day, by Heav'n design'd, When thou, the best and fairest of Mankind, Drawn by white Horses, shall in Triumph ride, With conquer'd Slaves attending on thy Side; Slaves, that no longer can be safe in flight, O glorious Object! O surprizing Sight! O Day of publick Joy, too good to end in Night! On such a Day, if thou, and next to thee Some Beauty sits, the Spectacle to see; If she enquire the Names of conquer'd Kings, Of Mountains, Rivers, and their hidden Springs; Answer to all thou knowest; and, if Need be, Of Things unknown seem to speak knowingly: This is Euphrates, crown'd with Reeds; and there Flows the swift Tigris, with his Sea-green hair, Invent new Names of Things unknown before; Call this Armenia, that, the Caspian Shore: Call this a Mede, and that a Parthian Youth; Talk probably; no Matter for the Truth.'



[Footnote 1: No. 591]



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No. 603. Wednesday, October 6, 1714. Byrom.



'Ducite ab Urbe Domum, mea Carmina, ducite Daphnim.'

Virg.



The following Copy of Verses comes from one of my Correspondents, and has something in it so Original, that I do not much doubt but it will divert my Readers [1].

I. My Time, O ye Muses, was happily spent, When Phebe went with me wherever I went; Ten thousand sweet Pleasures I felt in my Breast: Sure never fond Shepherd like Colin was blest! But now she is gone, and has left me behind, What a marvellous Change on a sudden I find? When things were as fine as could possibly be, I thought 'twas the Spring; but alas! it was she.

II. With such a Companion, to tend a few Sheep, To rise up and play, or to lye down and sleep: I was so good-humour'd, so chearful and gay, My Heart was as light as a Feather all Day. But now I so cross and so peevish am grown; So strangely uneasie as ever was known. My Fair one is gone, and my Joys are all drown'd, And my Heart—I am sure it weighs more than a Pound.

III. The Fountain that wont to run sweetly along, And dance to soft Murmurs the Pebbles among, Thou know'st, little Cupid, if Phebe was there, 'Twas Pleasure to look at, 'twas Musick to hear: But now she is absent, I walk by its Side, And still as it murmurs do nothing but chide, Must you be so chearful, while I go in Pain? Peace there with your Bubbling, and hear me complain.

IV. When my Lambkins around me would oftentimes play, And when Phebe and I were as joyful as they, How pleasant their Sporting, how happy the Time, When Spring, Love and Beauty were all in their Prime? But now in their Frolicks when by me they pass, I fling at their Fleeces an handful of Grass; Be still then, I cry, for it makes me quite mad, To see you so merry, while I am so sad.

V. My Dog I was ever well pleased to see Come wagging his Tail to my Fair one and me; And Phebe was pleas'd too, and to my Dog said, Come hither, poor Fellow; and patted his Head. But now, when he's fawning, I with a sour Look Cry, Sirrah; and give him a Blow with my Crook: And I'll give him another; for why should not Tray Be as dull as his Master, when Phebe's away?

VI. When walking with Phebe, what Sights have I seen? How fair was the Flower, how fresh was the Green? What a lovely appearance the Trees and the Shade, The Corn-fields and Hedges, and ev'ry thing made? But now she has left me, tho' all are still there, They none of 'em now so delightful appear: 'Twas nought but the Magick, I find, of her Eyes, Made so many beautiful Prospects arise.

VII. Sweet Musick went with us both all the Wood thro', The Lark, Linnet, Throstle, and Nightingale too; Winds over us whisper'd, Flocks by us did bleat, And chirp went the Grasshopper under our Feet. But now she is absent, tho' still they sing on, The Woods are but lonely, the Melody's gone: Her Voice in the Consort, as now I have found, Gave ev'ry thing else its agreeable Sound.

VIII. Rose, what is become of thy delicate Hue? And where is the Violet's beautiful Blue? Does ought of its Sweetness the Blossom beguile, That Meadow, those Dasies, why do they not smile? Ah! Rivals, I see what it was that you drest And made your selves fine for; a Place in her Breast: You put on your Colours to pleasure her Eye, To be pluckt by her Hand, on her Bosom to die.

IX. How slowly Time creeps, till my Phebe return! While amidst the soft Zephyr's cold Breezes I burn; Methinks if I knew whereabouts he would tread, I could breathe on his Wings, and 'twould melt down the Lead. Fly swifter, ye Minutes, bring hither my Dear, And rest so much longer for't when she is here. Ah Colin! old Time is full of Delay, Nor will budge one Foot faster for all thou canst say.

X. Will no pitying Power that hears me complain, Or cure my Disquiet, or soften my Pain? To be cur'd, thou must, Colin, thy Passion remove; But what Swain is so silly to live without Love? No, Deity, bid the dear Nymph to return, For ne'er was poor Shepherd so sadly forlorn. Ah! What shall I do? I shall die with Despair; Take heed, all ye Swains, how ye love one so fair.



[Footnote 1: It is said that John Byrom wrote these verses in honour of Joanna, daughter of his friend, Dr. Richard Bentley, Master of Trinity.]



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No. 604. Friday, October 8, 1714.



'Tu ne quaesieris (scire nefas) quem mihi, quem tibi, Finem Dii dederint, Leuconoe; nec Babylonios Tentaris numeros—'

Hor.



The Desire of knowing future Events is one of the strongest Inclinations in the Mind of Man. Indeed an Ability of foreseeing probable Accidents is what, in the Language of Men, is called Wisdom and Prudence: But, not satisfied with the Light that Reason holds out, Mankind hath endeavoured to penetrate more compendiously into Futurity. Magick, Oracles, Omens, lucky Hours, and the various Arts of Superstition, owe their Rise to this powerful Cause. As this Principle is founded in Self-Love, every Man is sure to be sollicitous in the first Place about his own Fortune, the Course of his Life, and the Time and Manner of his Death.

If we consider that we are free Agents, we shall discover the Absurdity of Enquiries. One of our Actions, which we might have performed or neglected, is the Cause of another that succeeds it, and so the whole Chain of Life is link'd together. Pain, Poverty, or Infamy, are the natural Product of vicious and imprudent Acts; as the contrary Blessings are of good ones; so that we cannot suppose our Lot to be determined without Impiety. A great Enhancement of Pleasure arises from its being unexpected; and Pain is doubled by being foreseen. Upon all these, and several other Accounts, we ought to rest satisfied in this Portion bestowed on us; to adore the Hand that hath fitted every Thing to our Nature, and hath not more display'd his Goodness in our Knowledge than in our Ignorance.

It is not unworthy Observation, that superstitious Enquiries into future Events prevail more or less, in proportion to the Improvement of liberal Arts and useful Knowledge in the several Parts of the World. Accordingly we find, that magical Incantations remain in Lapland, in the more remote Parts of Scotland they have their second Sight, and several of our own Countrymen see abundance of Fairies. In Asia this Credulity is strong; and the greatest Part of refined Learning there consists in the Knowledge of Amulets, Talismans, occult Numbers, and the like.

While I was at Grand Cairo, I fell into the Acquaintance of a good-natured Mussulman, who promised me many good Offices, which he designed to do me when he became the Prime Minister, which was a Fortune bestowed on his Imagination by a Doctor very deep in the curious Sciences. At his repeated Sollicitations I went to learn my Destiny of this wonderful Sage. For a small Sum I had his Promise, but was requir'd to wait in a dark Apartment till he had run thro' the preparatory Ceremonies. Having a strong Propensity, even then, to Dreaming, I took a Nap upon the Sofa where I was placed, and had the following Vision, the Particulars whereof I picked up the other Day among my Papers.

I found my self in an unbounded Plain, where methought the whole World, in several Habits and with different Tongues, was assembled. The Multitude glided swiftly along, and I found in my self a strong Inclination to mingle in the Train. My Eyes quickly singled out some of the most splendid Figures. Several in rich Caftans and glittering Turbans bustled through the Throng, and trampled over the Bodies of those they threw down; till to my great Surprize I found that the great Pace they went only hastened them to a Scaffold or a Bowstring. Many beautiful Damsels on the other Side moved forward with great Gaiety; some danced till they fell all along; and others painted their Faces till they lost their Noses. A Tribe of Creatures with busie Looks falling into a Fit of Laughter at the Misfortunes of the unhappy Ladies, I turn'd my Eyes upon them. They were each of them filling his Pockets with Gold and Jewels, and when there was no Room left for more, these Wretches looking round with Fear and Horror, pined away before my Face with Famine and Discontent.

This Prospect of human Misery struck me dumb for some Miles. Then it was that, to disburthen my Mind, I took Pen and Ink, and did every Thing that hath since happen'd under my Office of SPECTATOR. While I was employing my self for the Good of Mankind, I was surpriz'd to meet with very unsuitable Returns from my Fellow-Creatures. Never was poor Author so beset with Pamphleteers, who sometimes marched directly against me, but oftner shot at me from strong Bulwarks, or rose up suddenly in Ambush. They were of all Characters and Capacities, some with Ensigns of Dignity, and others in Liveries; but what most surpriz'd me, was to see two or three in black Gowns among my Enemies. It was no small Trouble to me, sometimes to have a Man come up to me with an angry Face, and reproach me for having lampooned him, when I had never seen or heard of him in my Life. With the Ladies it was otherwise: Many became my Enemies for not being particularly pointed out; as there were others who resented the Satyr which they imagined I had directed against them. My great Comfort was in the Company of half a Dozen Friends, who, I found since, were the Club which I have so often mentioned in my Papers. I laughed often at Sir Roger in my Sleep, and was the more diverted with Will Honeycomb's Gallantries, (when we afterwards became acquainted) because I had foreseen his Marriage with a Farmer's Daughter. The Regret which arose in my Mind upon the Death of my Companions, my Anxieties for the Publick, and the many Calamities still fleeting before my Eyes, made me repent my Curiosity; when the Magician entered the Room, and awakened me, by telling me (when it was too late) that he was just going to begin.

N. B. I have only deliver'd the Prophecy of that Part of my Life which is past, it being inconvenient to divulge the second Part 'till a more proper Opportunity.



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No. 605. Monday, October 11, 1714. Budgell.



'Exuerint sylvestrem animum, cultuque frequenti In quascunque voces artes, haud tarda sequentur.'

Virg.



Having perused the following Letter, and finding it to run upon the Subject of Love, I referred it to the Learned Casuist, whom I have retained in my Service for Speculations of that Kind. He return'd it to me the next Morning with his Report annexed to it, with both of which I shall here present my Reader.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

'Finding that you have Entertained an useful Person in your Service in quality of Love-Casuist, [1] I apply my self to you, under a very great Difficulty, that hath for some Months perplexed me. I have a Couple of humble Servants, one of which I have no Aversion to; the other I think of very kindly. The first hath the Reputation of a Man of good Sense, and is one of those People that your Sex are apt to Value. My Spark is reckoned a Coxcomb among the Men, but is a Favourite of the Ladies. If I marry the Man of Worth, as they call him, I shall oblige my Parents and improve my Fortune; but with my dear Beau I promise my self Happiness, altho' not a Jointure. Now I would ask you, whether I should consent to lead my Life with a Man that I have only no Objection to, or with him against whom all Objections to me appear frivolous. I am determined to follow the Casuist's Advice, and I dare say he will not put me upon so serious a thing as Matrimony, contrary to my Inclination.'

I am, &c.

Fanny Fickle.

P.S. 'I forgot to tell you, that the pretty Gentleman is the most complaisant Creature in the World, and is always of my Mind; but the other, forsooth, fancies he hath as much Wit as my self, slights my Lap-Dog, and hath the Insolence to contradict me when he thinks I am not in the Right. About half an Hour ago, he maintained to my Face, that a Patch always implies a Pimple.'

As I look upon it to be my Duty rather to side with the Parents than the Daughter, I shall propose some Considerations to my Gentle Querist, which may encline her to comply with those, under whose Direction she is: And at the same time, convince her, that it is not impossible but she may, in time, have a true Affection for him who is, at present, indifferent to her: Or, to use the old Family Maxim, that If she marries first, Love will come after.

The only Objection, that she seems to insinuate against the Gentleman proposed to her, is his want of Complaisance, which, I perceive, she is very willing to return. Now, I can discover from this very Circumstance, that she and her Lover, whatever they may think of it, are very good Friends in their Hearts. It is difficult to determine, whether Love delights more in giving Pleasure or Pain. Let Miss Fickle ask her own Heart, if she doth not take a Secret Pride in making this Man of good Sense look very silly. Hath she ever been better pleas'd, than when her Behaviour hath made her Lover ready to hang himself? Or doth she ever rejoice more, than when she thinks she hath driven him to the very Brink of a purling Stream? Let her consider, at the same time, that it is not impossible but her Lover may have discovered her Tricks, and hath a Mind to give her as good as she brings. I remember a handsome young Baggage that treated a hopeful Greek of my Acquaintance, just come from Oxford, as if he had been a Barbarian. The first Week, after she had fixed him, she took a Pinch of Snuff out of his Rival's Box, and apparently touched the Enemy's little Finger. She became a profest Enemy to the Arts and Sciences, and scarce ever wrote a Letter to him without wilfully mis-spelling his Name. The young Scholar, to be even with her, railed at Coquettes as soon as he had got the Word; and did not want Parts to turn into Ridicule her Men of Wit and Pleasure of the Town. After having irritated one another for the Space of five Months, she made an Assignation with him fourscore Miles from London. But as he was very well acquainted with her Pranks, he took a Journey the quite contrary Way. Accordingly they met, quarrell'd, and in a few Days were Married. Their former Hostilities are now the Subject of their Mirth, being content at present with that Part of Love only which bestows Pleasure.

Women, who have been married some time, not having it in their Heads to draw after them a numerous Train of Followers, find their Satisfaction in the Possession of one Man's Heart. I know very well, that Ladies in their Bloom desire to be excused in this Particular. But when Time hath worn out their natural Vanity and taught them Discretion, their Fondness settles on its proper Object. And it is probably for this Reason, that among Husbands, you will find more that are fond of Women beyond their Prime, than of those who are actually in the Insolence of Beauty. My Reader will apply the same Observation to the other Sex.

I need not insist upon the Necessity of their pursuing one common Interest, and their united Care, for their Children; but shall only observe, by the Way, that married Persons are both more warm in their Love, and more hearty in their Hatred, than any others whatsoever. Mutual Favours and Obligations, which may be supposed to be greater here than in any other State, naturally beget an Intense Affection in generous Minds. As, on the contrary, Persons who have bestowed such Favours, have a particular Bitterness in their Resentments, when they think themselves ill treated by those of whom they have deserved so much.

Besides, Miss Fickle may consider, that as there are often many Faults conceal'd before Marriage, so there are sometimes many Virtues unobserv'd.

To this we may add the great Efficacy of Custom, and constant Conversation, to produce a mutual Friendship and Benevolence in two Persons. It is a nice Reflection, which I have heard a Friend of mine make, that you may be sure a Woman loves a Man, when she uses his Expressions, tells his Stories, or imitates his Manner. This gives a secret Delight; for Imitation is a kind of artless Flattery, and mightily favours the powerful Principle of Self-love. It is certain, that married Persons, who are possest with a mutual Esteem, not only catch the Air and way of Talk from one another, but fall into the same Traces of thinking and liking. Nay, some have carried the Remark so far as to assert, that the Features of Man and Wife grow, in time, to resemble one another. Let my fair Correspondent therefore consider, that the Gentleman recommended will have a good deal of her own Face in two or three Years; which she must not expect from the Beau, who is too full of his dear self to copy after another. And I dare appeal to her own Judgment, if that Person will not be the handsomest, that is the most like her self.

We have a remarkable Instance to our present Purpose in the History of King Edgar, which I shall here relate, and leave it with my fair Correspondent to be applied to her self.

This great Monarch, who is so famous in British Story, fell in Love, as he made his Progress through his Kingdom, with a certain Duke's Daughter who lived near Winchester, and was the most celebrated Beauty of the Age. His Importunities and the Violence of his Passion were so great, that the Mother of the young Lady promised him to bring her Daughter to his Bed the next Night, though in her Heart she abhorr'd so infamous an Office. It was no sooner dark than she convey'd into his Room a young Maid of no disagreeable Figure, who was one of her Attendants, and did not want Address to improve the Opportunity for the Advancement of her Fortune. She made so good use of her Time, that when she offered to rise a little before Day, the King could by no means think of parting with her. So that finding herself under a Necessity of discovering who she was, she did it in so handsome a Manner, that his Majesty was exceeding gracious to her, and took her ever after under his Protection; insomuch that our Chronicles tell us he carried her along with him, made her his first Minister of State, and continued true to her alone, 'till his Marriage with the beautiful Elfrida.



[Footnote 1: See Nos. 591, 602, 614, 623, 625.]



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No. 606. Wednesday, October 13, 1714.



'—longum cantu solata laborem Arguto Conjux percurrit pectine Telas.'

Virg.



Mr. SPECTATOR,

'I have a couple of Nieces under my Direction, who so often run gadding abroad, that I don't know where to have them. Their Dress, their Tea, and their Visits take up all their Time, and they go to Bed as tired with doing nothing, as I am after quilting a whole Under-Petticoat. The only time they are not idle, is while they read your SPECTATORS; which being dedicated to the Interests of Virtue, I desire you to recommend the long neglected Art of Needle-work. Those Hours which in this Age are thrown away in Dress, Play, Visits, and the like, were employ'd, in my time, in writing out Receipts, or working Beds, Chairs, and Hangings for the Family. For my Part, I have ply'd my Needle these fifty Years, and by my good Will would never have it out of my Hand. It grieves my Heart to see a couple of proud idle Flirts sipping their Tea, for a whole Afternoon, in a Room hung round with the Industry of their Great Grandmother. Pray, Sir, take the laudable Mystery of Embroidery into your serious Consideration, and as you have a great deal of the Virtue of the last Age in you, continue your Endeavours to reform the present.'

I am, &c.

In Obedience to the Commands of my venerable Correspondent, I have duly weigh'd this important Subject, and promise my self, from the Arguments here laid down, that all the fine Ladies of England will be ready, as soon as their Mourning is over, [1] to appear covered with the Work of their own Hands.

What a delightful Entertainment must it be to the Fair Sex, whom their native Modesty, and the Tenderness of Men towards them, exempts from Publick Business, to pass their Hours in imitating Fruits and Flowers, and transplanting all the Beauties of Nature into their own Dress, or raising a new Creation in their Closets and Apartments. How pleasing is the Amusement of walking among the Shades and Groves planted by themselves, in surveying Heroes slain by their Needle, or little Cupids which they have brought into the World without Pain!

This is, methinks, the most proper way wherein a Lady can shew a fine Genius, and I cannot forbear wishing, that several Writers of that Sex had chosen to apply themselves rather to Tapestry than Rhime. Your Pastoral Poetesses may vent their Fancy in Rural Landskips, and place despairing Shepherds under silken Willows, or drown them in a Stream of Mohair. The Heroick Writers may work up Battles as successfully, and inflame them with Gold or stain them with Crimson. Even those who have only a Turn to a Song or an Epigram, may put many valuable Stitches into a Purse, and crowd a thousand Graces into a Pair of Garters.

If I may, without breach of good Manners, imagine that any pretty Creature is void of Genius, and would perform her Part herein but very awkardly, I must nevertheless insist upon her working, if it be only to keep her out of Harm's way.

Another Argument for busying good Women in Works of Fancy, is, because it takes them off from Scandal, the usual Attendant of Tea-Tables, and all other unactive Scenes of Life. While they are forming their Birds and Beasts, their Neighbours will be allowed to be the Fathers of their own Children: And Whig and Tory will be but seldom mentioned, where the great Dispute is, whether Blue or Red is the more proper Colour. How much greater Glory would Sophronia do the General, if she would chuse rather to work the Battle of Blenheim in Tapestry, than signalize her self with so much Vehemence against those who are Frenchmen in their Hearts.

A Third Reason that I shall mention, is the Profit that is brought to the Family where these pretty Arts are encouraged. It is manifest that this way of Life not only keeps fair Ladies from running out into Expences, but is at the same time an actual Improvement. How memorable would that Matron be, who should have it Inscribed upon her Monument, 'that she Wrought out the whole Bible in Tapestry, and died in a good old Age, after having covered three hundred Yards of Wall in the Mansion-House.'

The Premises being consider'd, I humbly submit the following Proposals to all Mothers in Great Britain.

I. That no young Virgin whatsoever be allow'd to receive the Addresses of her first Lover, but in a Suit of her own Embroidering.

II. That before every fresh Servant, she be oblig'd to appear with a new Stomacher at the least.

III. That no one be actually married, till she hath the Child-bed Pillows, &c. ready Stitched, as likewise the Mantle for the Boy quite finished.

These Laws, if I mistake not, would effectually restore the decay'd Art of Needle-work, and make the Virgins of Great Britain exceedingly Nimble-finger'd in their Business.

There is a memorable Custom of the Grecian Ladies in this particular, preserv'd in Homer, which I hope will have a very good Effect with my Country-women. A Widow in Ancient Times could not, without Indecency, receive a second Husband, till she had Woven a Shrowd for her deceased Lord, or the next of Kin to him. Accordingly, the Chaste Penelope having, as she thought, lost Ulysses at Sea, she employed her time in preparing a Winding-sheet for Laertes, the Father of her Husband. The Story of her Web being very Famous, and yet not sufficiently known in its several Circumstances, I shall give it to my Reader, as Homer makes one of her Wooers relate it.

'Sweet Hope she gave to every Youth apart, With well-taught Looks, and a deceitful Heart: A Web she wove of many a slender Twine, Of curious Texture, and perplext Design; My Youths, she cry'd, my Lord but newly dead, Forbear a while to court my widow'd Bed, 'Till I have wov'n, as solemn Vows require, This Web, a Shrowd for poor Ulysses' Sire. His Limbs, when Fate the Hero's Soul demands, Shall claim this Labour of his Daughter's Hands: Lest all the Dames of Greece my Name despise, While the great King without a Covering lies.

Thus she. Nor did my Friends mistrust the Guile. All Day she sped the long laborious Toil: But when the burning Lamps supply'd the Sun, Each Night unravell'd what the Day begun. Three live-long Summers did the Fraud prevail. The Fourth her Maidens told th' amazing Tale. These Eyes beheld, as close I took my Stand, The backward Labours of her faithless Hand: 'Till watch'd at length, and press'd on every Side, Her Task she ended, and commenc'd a Bride.'



[Footnote 1: Public Mourning for Q. Anne, who died Aug. 1, 1714.]



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No. 607. Friday, October 15, 1714.



'Dicite Ioe Paean, et Ioe bis dicite Paean: Decidit in casses praeda petita meos.'

Ovid.



Mr. SPECTATOR,

'Having in your Paper of Monday last [1] published my Report on the Case of Mrs. Fanny Fickle, wherein I have taken Notice, that Love comes after Marriage; I hope your Readers are satisfied of this Truth, that as Love generally produces Matrimony, so it often happens that Matrimony produces Love.

'It perhaps requires more Virtues to make a good Husband or Wife, than what go the finishing any the most shining Character whatsoever.

'Discretion seems absolutely necessary, and accordingly we find that the best Husbands have been most famous for their Wisdom. Homer, who hath drawn a perfect Pattern of a prudent Man, to make it the more compleat, hath celebrated him for the just Returns of Fidelity and Truth to his Penelope; insomuch that he refused the Caresses of a Goddess for her sake, and to use the Expression of the best of Pagan Authors, vetulam suam praetulit Immortalitati, his old Woman was dearer to him than Immortality.

'Virtue is the next necessary Qualification for this domestick Character, as it naturally produces Constancy and mutual Esteem. Thus Brutus and Porcia were more remarkable for Virtue and Affection than any others of the Age in which they lived.

'Good-Nature is a third necessary Ingredient in the Marriage-State, without which it would inevitably sower upon a thousand Occasions. When Greatness of Mind is joined with this amiable Quality, it attracts the Admiration and Esteem of all who behold it. Thus Caesar, not more remarkable for his Fortune and Valour than for his Humanity, stole into the Hearts of the Roman People, when breaking through the Custom, he pronounced an Oration at the Funeral of his first and best beloved Wife.

'Good-Nature is insufficient, unless it be steady and uniform, and accompanied with an Evenness of Temper, which is, above all things, to be preserved in this Friendship contracted for Life. A Man must be easie within himself, before he can be so to his other self. Socrates, and Marcus Aurelius, are Instances of Men, who, by the Strength of Philosophy, having entirely composed their Minds, and subdued their Passions, are celebrated for good Husbands, notwithstanding the first was yoked with Xantippe, and the other with Faustina. If the wedded Pair would but habituate themselves for the first Year to bear with one another's Faults, the Difficulty would be pretty well conquer'd. This mutual Sweetness of Temper and Complacency, was finely recommended in the Nuptial Ceremonies among the Heathens, who, when they sacrificed to Juno at that Solemnity, always tore out the Gaul from the Entrails of the Victim, and cast it behind the Altar.

'I shall conclude this Letter with a Passage out of Dr. Plot's Natural History of Staffordshire, not only as it will serve to fill up your present Paper; but if I find my self in the Humour, may give Rise to another; I having by me an old Register, belonging to the Place here under-mentioned.'

Sir Philip de Somervile held the Manors of Whichenovre, Scirescot, Ridware, Netherton, and Cowlee, all in Com. Stafford, of the Earls of Lancaster, by this memorable Service. The said Sir Philip shall find, maintain, and sustain, one Bacon Flitch, hanging in his Hall at Whichenovre ready arrayed all times of the Year, but in Lent, to be given to every Man or Woman married, after the Day and the Year of their Marriage be past, in Form following.

Whensoever that any one such before named will come to enquire for the Bacon, in their own Person, they shall come to the Bailiff, or to the Porter of the Lordship of Whichenovre, and shall say to them in the manner as ensueth;

'Bayliff, or Porter, I doo you to know, that I am come for my self, to demand one Bacon Flyke hanging in the Hall of the Lord of Whichenovre, after the Form thereunto belonging.'

After which Relation, the Bayliff or Porter shall assign a Day to him, upon Promise by his Faith to return, and with him to bring Twain of his Neighbours. And in the mean Time the said Bailiff shall take with him Twain of the Freeholders of the Lordship of Whichenovre, and they three shall go to the Manor of Rudlow, belonging to Robert Knightleye, and there shall summon the aforesaid Knightleye, or his Bayliff, commanding him to be ready at Whichenovre the Day appointed, at Prime of Day, with his Carriage, that is to say, a Horse and a Saddle, a Sack and a Pryke, for to convey the said Bacon and Corn a Journey out of the County of Stafford, at his Costages. And then the said Bailiff shall, with the said Freeholders, summon all the Tenants of the said Manor, to be ready at the Day appointed, at Whichenovre, for to do and perform the Services which they owe to the Bacon. And at the Day assigned, all such as owe Services to the Bacon, shall be ready at the Gate of the Manor of Whichenovre, from the Sun-rising to Noon, attending and awaiting for the coming of him who fetcheth the Bacon. And when he is come, there shall be delivered to him and his Fellows, Chapelets; and to all those which shall be there, to do their Services due to the Bacon. And they shall lead the said Demandant with Trumps and Tabours, and other manner of Minstrels to the Hall-Door, where he shall find the Lord of Whichenovre, or his Steward, ready to deliver the Bacon in this Manner.

He shall enquire of him, which demandeth the Bacon, if he have brought twain of his Neighbours with him: Which must answer, They be here ready. And then the Steward shall cause these two Neighbours to swear, if the said Demandant be a wedded Man, or have been a Man wedded; and if since his Marriage one Year and a Day be past; and if he be a Free-man, or a Villain. And if his said Neighbours make Oath, that he hath for him all these three Points rehearsed; then shall the Bacon be taken down and brought to the Hall-Door, and shall there be laid upon one half Quarter of Wheat, and upon one other of Rye. And he that demandeth the Bacon shall kneel upon his Knee, and shall hold his right Hand upon a Book, which Book shall be laid upon the Bacon and the Corn, and shall make Oath in this manner.

'Here ye, Sir Philip de Somervile, Lord of Whichenovre, mayntener and gyver of this Baconne: That I A sithe I Wedded B my Wife, and sithe I had hyr in my kepyng, and at my Wylle, by a Year and a Day after our Marriage, I would not have chaunged for none other; farer ne fowler; richer, ne pourer; ne for none other descended of greater Lynage; slepyng ne wakyng, at noo tyme. And if the seyd B were sole and I sole I would take her to be my Wife before all the Wymen of the Worlde, of what condiciones soever they be: good or evylle, as help me God ond his Seyntes, and this Flesh and all Fleshes.'

And his Neighbours shall make Oath, that they trust verily he hath said truly. And if it be found by his Neighbours before-named that he be a Free-man, there shall be delivered to him half a Quarter of Wheat and a Cheese; and if he be a Villain, he shall have half a Quarter of Rye without Cheese. And then shall Knightleye the Lord of Rudlow be called for, to carry all these Things tofore rehearsed; and the said Corn shall be laid on one Horse and the Bacon above it: and he to whom the Bacon appertaineth shall ascend upon his Horse; and shall take the Cheese before him if he have a Horse. And if he have none, the Lord of Whichenovre shall cause him to have one Horse and Saddle, to such time as he be past his Lordship: and so shall they depart the Manor of Whichenovre with the Corn and the Bacon, tofore him that hath won it, with Trumpets, Tabourets, and other manner of Minstrelsie. And all the Free Tenants of Whichenovre shall Conduct him to be passed the Lordship of Whichenovre. And then shall they all return; except him, to whom appertained to make the Carriage and Journey without the County of Stafford, at the Costs of his Lord of Whichenovre.



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No. 608. Monday, October 18, 1714. Addison. [1]



'—Perjuria ridet Amantum—'

Ovid.



Mr. SPECTATOR,

'According to my Promise, I herewith transmit to you a List of several Persons, who from time to time demanded the Flitch of Bacon of Sir Philip de Somervile and his Descendants; as it is preserved in an ancient Manuscript under the Title of The Register of Whichenovre-Hall, and of the Bacon Flitch there maintained.

'In the Beginning of this Record is recited the Law or Institution in Form, as it is already printed in your last Paper: To which are added Two By-Laws, as a Comment upon the General Law, the Substance whereof is, that the Wife shall take the same Oath as the Husband, mutatis mutandis; and that the Judges shall, as they think meet, interrogate or cross-examine the Witnesses. After this proceeds the Register in Manner following.

'Aubry de Falstaff, Son of Sir John Falstaff, Kt. with Dame Maude his Wife, were the first that demanded the Bacon, he having bribed twain of his Father's Companions to swear falsly in his Behoof whereby he gained the Flitch: But he and his said Wife falling immediately into a Dispute how the said Bacon should be dressed, it was by Order of the Judges taken from him, and hung up again in the Hall.

'Alison the Wife of Stephen Freckle, brought her said Husband along with her, and set forth the good Conditions and Behaviour of her Consort, adding withal that she doubted not but he was ready to attest the like of her, his Wife; whereupon he, the said Stephen, shaking his Head, she turned short upon him, and gave him a Box on the Ear.

'Philip de Waverland, having laid his Hand upon the Book, when the Clause, Were I sole and she sole, was rehearsed, found a secret Compunction rising in his Mind, and stole it off again.

'Richard de Loveless, who was a Courtier, and a very wellbred Man, being observed to hesitate at the Words after our Marriage, was thereupon required to explain himself. He reply'd, by talking very largely of his exact Complaisance while he was a Lover; and alledg'd, that he had not in the least disobliged his Wife for a Year and a Day before Marriage, which he hoped was the same Thing.

'Rejected.

'Joceline Jolly, Esq., making it appear by unquestionable Testimony, That he and his Wife had presented full and entire Affection for the Space of the first Month, commonly called the Honey-Moon; he had in Consideration thereof one Rasher bestowed upon him.

'After this, says the Record, many Years passed over before any Demandant appeared at Whichenovre-Hall; insomuch that one would have thought that the whole Country were turned Jews, so little was their Affection to the Flitch of Bacon.

'The next Couple enrolled had like to have carried it, if one of the Witnesses had not deposed, That dining on a Sunday with the Demandant, whose Wife had sate below the Squire's Lady at Church, she the said Wife dropped some Expressions, as if she thought her Husband deserved to be knighted; to which he returned a passionate Pish! The Judges taking the Premises into Consideration, declared the aforesaid Behaviour to imply an unwarrantable Ambition in the Wife, and Anger in the Husband.

'It is recorded as a sufficient Disqualification of a certain Wife, that speaking of her Husband, she said, God forgive him.

'It is likewise remarkable, that a Couple were rejected upon the Deposition of one of their Neighbours, that the Lady had once told her Husband, that it was her Duty to obey; to which he replied, Oh! my Dear, you are never in the wrong.

'The violent Passion of one Lady for her Lap-Dog; the turning away of the old House-Maid by another; a Tavern-Bill torn by the Wife, and a Taylor's by the Husband; a Quarrel about the Kissing-Crust; spoiling of Dinners, and coming in late of Nights; are so many several Articles which occasioned the Reprobation of some Scores of Demandants, whose Names are recorded in the aforesaid Register.

'Without enumerating other particular Persons, I shall content my self with observing, that the Sentence pronounced against one Gervase Poacher is, that he might have had Bacon to his Eggs, if he had not heretofore scolded his Wife when they were over boiled. And the Deposition against Dorothy Dolittle runs in these Words; That she had so far usuped the Dominion of the Coalfire, (the Stirring whereof her Husband claimed to himself) that by her good Will she never would suffer the Poker out of her Hand.

'I find but two Couples, in this first Century, that were successful: The first, was a Sea-Captain and his Wife, who since the Day of their Marriage, had not seen one another till the Day of the Claim. The Second, was an honest Pair in the Neighbourhood; The Husband was a Man of plain good Sense, and a peaceable Temper; the Woman was dumb.'



[Footnote 1: Lord Macaulay, in a letter published p. 1433 ... of Mr. Bohn's edition of Lowndes's 'Bibliographer's Manual', calls this paper 'undoubtedly Addison's, and one of his best,' although not claimed, because he could not own it without admitting what Lord Macaulay rightly considered quite as obvious, his authorship of No. 623. Addison wrote, evidently, some other of these unappropriated papers.]



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No. 609. Wednesday, October 20, 1714.



'—Farrago libelli—'

Juv.



Mr. SPECTATOR,

'I have for some Time desired to appear in your Paper, and have therefore chosen a Day [1] to steal into the SPECTATOR, when I take it for granted you will not have many spare Minutes for Speculations of your own. As I was the other Day walking with an honest Country-Gentleman, he very often was expressing his Astonishment to see the Town so mightily crowded with Doctors of Divinity: Upon which I told him he was very much mistaken if he took all those Gentlemen he saw in Scarfs to be Persons of that Dignity; for, that a young Divine, after his first Degree in the University, usually comes hither only to show himself; and on that Occasion is apt to think he is but half equipp'd with a Gown and Cassock for his publick Appearance, if he hath not the additional Ornament of a Scarf of the first Magnitude to intitle him to the Appellation of Doctor from his Landlady and the Boy at Childs. Now since I know that this Piece of Garniture is looked upon as a Mark of Vanity or Affectation, as it is made use of among some of the little spruce Adventurers of the Town, I should be glad if you would give it a Place among those Extravagancies you have justly exposed in several of your Papers: being very well assured that the main Body of the Clergy, both in the Country and the Universities, who are almost to a Man untainted with it, would be very well pleased to see this Venerable Foppery well exposed. When my Patron did me the Honour to take me into his Family, (for I must own my self of this Order) he was pleased to say he took me as a Friend and Companion; and whether he looked upon the Scarf like the Lace and Shoulder-knot of a Footman, as a Badge of Servitude and Dependance, I do not know, but he was so kind as to leave my wearing of it to my own Discretion; and not having any just Title to it from my Degrees, I am content to be without the Ornament. The Privileges of our Nobility to keep a certain Number of Chaplains are undisputed, though perhaps not one in ten of those reverend Gentlemen have any Relation to the noble Families their Scarfs belong to; the Right generally of creating all Chaplains except the Domestick, where there is one, being nothing more than the Perquisite of a Steward's Place, who, if he happens to out-live any considerable Number of his noble Masters, shall probably, at one and the same Time, have fifty Chaplains, all in their proper Accoutrements, of his own Creation; though perhaps there hath been neither Grace nor Prayer said in the Family since the Introduction of the first Coronet.'

I am, &c.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

'I wish you would write a Philosophical Paper about Natural Antipathies, with a Word or two concerning the Strength of Imagination. I can give you a List upon the first Notice, of a Rational China Cup, of an Egg that walks upon two Legs, and a Quart Pot that sings like a Nightingale. There is in my Neighbourhood a very pretty prattling Shoulder of Veal, that squawls out at the Sight of a Knife. Then as for Natural Antipathies, I know a General Officer who was never conquered but by a smother'd Rabbit; and a Wife that domineers over her Husband by the Help of a Breast of Mutton. A Story that relates to my self on this Subject may be thought not unentertaining, especially when I assure you that it is literally true. I had long made Love to a Lady, in the Possession of whom I am now the happiest of Mankind, whose Hand I shou'd have gained with much Difficulty without the Assistance of a Cat. You must know then, that my most dangerous Rival had so strong an Aversion to this Species, that he infallibly swooned away at the Sight of that harmless Creature. My Friend Mrs. Lucy, her Maid, having a greater Respect for me and my Purse than she had for my Rival, always took Care to pin the Tail of a Cat under the Gown of her Mistress, whenever she knew of his coming; which had such an Effect, that every Time he entred the Room, he looked more like one of the Figures in Mrs. Salmon's Wax-work, than a desirable Lover. In short, he grew Sick of her Company; which the young Lady taking Notice of, (who no more knew why, than he did) she sent me a Challenge to meet her in Lincoln's-Inn Chappel, which I joyfully accepted, and have (amongst other Pleasures) the Satisfaction of being praised by her for my Stratagem, I am, &c.'

From the Hoop.

Tom. Nimble.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

'The Virgins of Great Britain are very much oblig'd to you for putting them upon such tedious Drudgeries in Needlework as were fit only for the Hilpa's and the Nilpa's that lived before the Flood. Here's a stir indeed with your Histories in Embroidery, your Groves with Shades of Silk and Streams of Mohair! I would have you to know, that I hope to kill a hundred Lovers before the best Housewife in England can stitch out a Battel, and do not fear but to provide Boys and Girls much faster than your Disciples can embroider them. I love Birds and Beasts as well as you, but am content to fancy them when they are really made. What do you think of Gilt Leather for Furniture? There's your pretty Hangings for a Chamber; [2] and what is more, our own Country is the only Place in Europe where Work of that kind is tolerably done. Without minding your musty Lessons: I am this Minute going to Paul's Church-Yard to bespeak a Skreen and a Set of Hangings; and am resolved to encourage the Manufacture of my Country.'

Yours,

CLEORA.



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

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



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No. 610 Friday, October 22, 1714.



'Sic, cum transierint mei Nullo cum strepitu dies, Plebeius moriar senex. Illi mors gravis incubat, Qui, notus nimis omnibus, Ignotus moritur sibi.'

Seneca.



I have often wondered that the Jews should contrive such a worthless Greatness for the Deliverer whom they expected, as to dress him up in external Pomp and Pageantry, and represent him to their Imagination, as making Havock amongst his Creatures, and acted with the poor Ambition of a Caesar or an Alexander. How much more illustrious doth he appear in his real Character, when considered as the Author of universal Benevolence among Men, as refining our Passions, exalting our Nature, giving us vast Ideas of Immortality, and teaching us a Contempt of that little showy Grandeur, wherein the Jews made the Glory of their Messiah to consist!

Nothing (says Longinus) can be Great, the Contempt of which is Great. The Possession of Wealth and Riches cannot give a Man a Title to Greatness, because it is looked upon as a Greatness of Mind, to contemn these Gifts of Fortune, and to be above the Desire of them. I have therefore been inclined to think, that there are greater Men who lie concealed among the Species, than those who come out, and draw upon themselves the Eyes and Admiration of Mankind. Virgil would never have been heard of, had not his Domestick Misfortunes driven him out of his Obscurity, and brought him to Rome.

If we suppose that there are Spirits or Angels who look into the Ways of Men, as it is highly probable there are, both from Reason and Revelation; how different are the Notions which they entertain of us, from those which we are apt to form of one another? Were they to give us in their Catalogue of such Worthies as are now living, how different would it be from that, which any of our own Species would draw up?

We are dazled with the Splendour of Titles, the Ostentation of Learning, the Noise of Victories; They, on the contrary, see the Philosopher in the Cottage, who possesses his Soul in Patience and Thankfulness, under the Pressure of what little Minds call Poverty and Distress. They do not look for great Men at the Head of Armies, or among the Pomps of a Court, but often find them out in Shades and Solitudes, in the private Walks and By-paths of Life. The Evening's Walk of a wise Man is more illustrious in their Sight, than the March of a General at the Head of a hundred thousand Men. A Contemplation of God's Works; a voluntary Act of Justice to our own Detriment; a generous Concern for the Good of Mankind; Tears that are shed in Silence for the Misery of others; a private Desire or Resentment broken and subdued; in short, an unfeigned Exercise of Humility, or any other Virtue; are such Actions as are glorious in their Sight, and denominate Men great and reputable. The most famous among us are often looked upon with Pity, with Contempt, or with Indignation; while those who are most obscure among their own Species, are regarded with Love, with Approbation and Esteem.

The Moral of the present Speculation amounts to this, That we should not be led away by the Censures and Applauses of Men, but consider the Figure that every Person will make, at that Time when Wisdom shall be justified of her Children, and nothing pass for Great or Illustrious, which is not an Ornament and Perfection to humane Nature.

The Story of Gyges the rich Lydian Monarch, is a memorable Instance to our present Purpose. The Oracle being asked by Gyges, who was the happiest Man, replied Aglas. Gyges, who expected to have heard himself named on this Occasion, was much surprized, and very curious to know who this Aglas should be. After much Enquiry he was found to be an obscure Countryman, who employ'd all his Time in cultivating a Garden, and a few Acres of Land about his House.

Cowley's agreeable Relation of this Story shall close this Day's Speculation.

'Thus Aglas (a Man unknown to Men, But the Gods knew, and therefore lov'd him then) Thus liv'd obscurely then without a Name, Aglas, now consign'd t' eternal Fame. For Gyges, the rich King, wicked and great, Presum'd at wise Apollo's Delphick Seat, Presum'd to ask, Oh thou, the whole World's Eye, See'st thou a Man that happier is than I? The God, who scorned to flatter Man, reply'd, Aglas happier is. But Gyges cry'd, In a proud Rage, Who can that Aglas be? We've heard as yet of no such King as he. And true it was, through the whole Earth around, No King of such a Name was to be found. Is some old Hero of that Name alive, Who his high Race does from the Gods derive? Is it some mighty Gen'ral, that has done Wonders in Fight, and God-like Honours won? Is it some Man of endless Wealth? said he: None, none of these; who can this Aglas be? After long Search, and vain Enquiries past, In an obscure Arcadian Vale at last, (Th' Arcadian Life has always shady been) Near Sopho's Town (which he but once had seen) This Aglas, who Monarchs Envy drew, Whose Happiness the Gods stood Witness to, This mighty Aglas was lab'ring found, With his own Hands, in his own little Ground.

So, gracious God, (if it may lawful be, Among those foolish Gods to mention thee) So let me act, on such a private Stage, The last dull Scenes of my declining Age; After long Toils and Voyages in vain, This quiet Port let my toss'd Vessel gain; Of heav'nly Rest, this Earnest to me lend, Let my Life sleep, and learn to love her End.'



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No. 611. Monday, October 25, 1714.



'Perfide! sed duris genuit te cautibus horrens Caucasus, Hircanaeque admorunt ubera tigres.'

Virg.



I am willing to postpone every thing, to do any the least Service for the Deserving and Unfortunate. Accordingly I have caused the following Letter to be inserted in my Paper the Moment that it came to my Hands, without altering one Tittle in an Account which the Lady relates so handsomely her self.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

'I flatter my self, you will not only pity, but, if possible, redress a Misfortune my self and several others of my Sex lie under. I hope you will not be offended, nor think I mean by this to justifie my own imprudent Conduct, or expect You should. No! I am sensible how severely, in some of your former Papers, you have reproved Persons guilty of the like Mismanagements. I was scarce Sixteen, and, I may say without Vanity, Handsome, when courted by a false perjured Man; who, upon Promise of Marriage, rendered me the most unhappy of Women. After he had deluded me from my Parents, who were People of very good Fashion, in less than three Months he left me. My Parents would not see, nor hear from me; and had it not been for a Servant, who had lived in our Family, I must certainly have perished for want of Bread. However, it pleased Providence, in a very short time, to alter my miserable Condition. A Gentleman saw me, liked me, and married me. My Parents were reconciled; and I might be as happy in the Change of my Condition, as I was before miserable, but for some things, that you shall know, which are insupportable to me; and I am sure you have so much Honour and Compassion as to let those Persons know, in some of your Papers, how much they are in the wrong. I have been married near five Years, and do not know that in all that time I ever went abroad without my Husband's Leave and Approbation. I am obliged, through the Importunities of several of my Relations, to go abroad oftner than suits my Temper. Then it is, I labour under insupportable Agonies. That Man, or rather Monster, haunts every Place I go to. Base Villain! By reason I will not admit his nauseous wicked Visits and Appointments, he strives all the ways he can to ruin me. He left me destitute of Friend or Money, nor ever thought me worth enquiring after, till he unfortunately happened to see me in a Front Box, sparkling with Jewels. Then his Passion returned. Then the Hypocrite pretended to be a Penitent. Then he practised all those Arts that helped before to undo me. I am not to be deceived a second time by him. I hate and abhor his odious Passion; and, as he plainly perceives it, either out of Spight or Diversion, he makes it his Business to expose me. I never fail seeing him in all publick Company, where he is always most industriously spightful. He hath, in short, told all his Acquaintance of our unhappy Affair, they tell theirs; so that it is no Secret among his Companions, which are numerous. They, to whom he tells it, think they have a Title to be very familiar. If they bow to me, and I out of good Manners return it, then I am pester'd with Freedoms that are no ways agreeable to my self or Company. If I turn my Eyes from them, or seem displeased, they sower upon it, and whisper the next Person; he his next; 'till I have at last the Eyes of the whole Company upon me. Nay, they report abominable Falshoods, under that mistaken Notion, She that will grant Favours to one Man, will to a hundred. I beg you will let those who are guilty, know, how ungenerous this way of Proceeding is. I am sure he will know himself the Person aim'd at, and perhaps put a stop to the Insolence of others. Cursed is the Fate of unhappy Women! that Men may boast and glory in those things that we must think of with Shame and Horror! You have the Art of making such odious Customs appear detestable. For my Sake, and I am sure, for the Sake of several others, who dare not own it, but, like me, lie under the same Misfortunes, make it as infamous for a Man to boast of Favours, or expose our Sex, as it is to take the Lie or a Box on the Ear, and not resent it.' Your Constant Reader, and Admirer, LESBIA.

P. S. 'I am the more Impatient under this Misfortune, having receiv'd fresh Provocation, last Wednesday, in the Abbey.'

I entirely agree with the amiable and unfortunate LESBIA, that an Insult upon a Woman in her Circumstances, is as infamous in a Man, as a tame Behaviour when the Lie or a Buffet is given; which Truth, I shall beg leave of her to illustrate by the following Observation.

It is a Mark of Cowardice passively to forbear resenting an Affront, the Resenting of which would lead a Man into Danger; it is no less a Sign of Cowardice to affront a Creature, that hath not Power to avenge it self. Whatever Name therefore this ungenerous Man may bestow on the helpless Lady he hath injur'd, I shall not scruple to give him in return for it, the Appellation of Coward.

A Man, that can so far descend from his Dignity, as to strike a Lady, can never recover his Reputation with either Sex, because no Provocation is thought strong enough to justifie such Treatment from the Powerful towards the Weak. In the Circumstances, in which poor LESBIA is situated, she can appeal to no Man whatsoever to avenge an Insult, more grievous than a Blow. If she could open her Mouth, the base Man knows, that a Husband, a Brother, a generous Friend would die to see her righted.

A generous Mind, however enrag'd against an Enemy, feels its Resentments sink and vanish away, when the Object of its Wrath falls into its Power. An estranged Friend, filled with Jealousie and Discontent towards a Bosom-Acquaintance, is apt to overflow with Tenderness and Remorse, when a Creature, that was once dear to him, undergoes any Misfortune. What Name then shall we give to his Ingratitude, (who forgetting the Favours he sollicited with Eagerness, and receiv'd with Rapture) can insult the Miseries that he himself caused, and make Sport with the Pain to which he owes his greatest Pleasure? There is but one Being in the Creation whose Province it is to practise upon the Imbecillities of frail Creatures, and triumph in the Woes which his own Artifices brought about; and we well know, those who follow his Example, will receive his Reward.

Leaving my fair Correspondent to the Direction of her own Wisdom and Modesty; and her Enemy, and his mean Accomplices, to the Compunction of their own Hearts; I shall conclude this Paper with a memorable Instance of Revenge, taken by a Spanish Lady upon a guilty Lover, which may serve to show what violent Effects are wrought by the most tender Passion, when sower'd into Hatred; and may deter the Young and unwary from unlawful Love. The Story, however Romantick it may appear, I have heard affirmed for a Truth.

Not many Years ago an English Gentleman, who in a Rencounter by Night in the Streets of Madrid had the Misfortune to kill his Man, fled into a Church-Porch for Sanctuary. Leaning against the Door, he was surprized to find it open, and a glimmering Light in the Church. He had the Courage to advance towards the Light; but was terribly startled at the sight of a Woman in White who ascended from a Grave with a bloody Knife in her Hand. The Phantome marched up to him, and asked him what he did there. He told her the Truth, without reserve, believing that he had met a Ghost: Upon which, she spoke to him in the following Manner. 'Stranger, thou art in my Power: I am a Murderer as thou art. Know then, that I am a Nun of a noble Family. A base perjur'd Man undid me, and boasted of it. I soon had him dispatched; but not content with the Murder, I have brib'd the Sexton to let me enter his Grave, and have now pluck'd out his False Heart from his Body; and thus I use a Traitor's Heart.' At these Words she tore it in Pieces, and trampled it under her Feet.



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No. 612. Wednesday, October 27, 1714.



'Murranum hic atavos et avorum antiqua sonantem Nomina per regesque actum genus omne Latinos, Praecipitem scopulo, atque ingentis turbine saxi Excutit, effunditque solo.'

Virg.



It is highly laudable to pay Respect to Men who are descended from worthy Ancestors, not only out of Gratitude to those who have done Good to Mankind, but as it is an Encouragement to others to follow their Example. But this is an Honour to be receiv'd, not demanded, by the Descendants of great Men; and they who are apt to remind us of their Ancestors, only put us upon making Comparisons to their own Disadvantage.