There is some Pretence for boasting of Wit, Beauty, Strength or Wealth, because the Communication of them may give Pleasure or Profit to others; but we can have no Merit, nor ought we to claim any Respect, because our Fathers acted well, whether we would or no.

The following Letter ridicules the Folly I have mentioned, in a new, and, I think, not disagreeable Light.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

'Were the Genealogy of every Family preserved, there would probably be no Man valued or despis'd on Account of his Birth. There is scarce a Beggar in the Streets, who would not find himself lineally descended from some great Man; nor any one of the highest Title, who would not discover several base and indigent Persons among his Ancestors. It would be a pleasant Entertainment to see one Pedigree of Men appear together, under the same Characters they bore when they acted their respective Parts among the Living. Suppose therefore a Gentleman, full of his illustrious Family, should, in the same manner as Virgil makes AEneas look over his Descendants, see the whole Line of his Progenitors pass in a Review before his Eyes, and with how many varying Passions would he behold Shepherds and Soldiers, Statesmen and Artificers, Princes and Beggars, walk in the Procession of five thousand Years! How would his Heart sink or flutter at the several Sports of Fortune in a Scene so diversified with Rags and Purple, Handicraft Tools and Scepters, Ensigns of Dignity and Emblems of Disgrace; and how would his Fears and Apprehensions, his Transports and Mortifications, succeed one another, as the Line of his Genealogy appear'd bright or obscure?

'In most of the Pedigrees hung up in old Mansion Houses, you are sure to find the first in the Catalogue a great Statesman, or a Soldier with an honourable Commission. The Honest Artificer that begot him, and all his frugal Ancestors before him, are torn off from the Top of the Register; and you are not left to imagine, that the noble Founder of the Family ever had a Father. Were we to trace many boasted Lines farther backwards, we should lose them in a Mob of Tradesmen, or a Crowd of Rusticks, without hope of seeing them emerge again: Not unlike the old Appian Way, which after having run many Miles in Length, loses it self in a Bog.

'I lately made a Visit to an old Country Gentleman, who is very far gone in this sort of Family Madness. I found him in his Study perusing an old Register of his Family, which he had just then discover'd, as it was branched out in the Form of a Tree, upon a Skin of Parchment. Having the Honour to have some of his Blood in my Veins, he permitted me to cast my Eye over the Boughs of this venerable Plant; and asked my Advice in the Reforming of some of the superfluous Branches.

'We passed slightly over three or four of our immediate Fore-fathers, whom we knew by Tradition, but were soon stopped by an Alderman of London, who, I perceived, made my Kinsman's Heart go pit-a-pat. His Confusion increased when he found the Alderman's Father to be a Grasier; but he recovered his Fright upon seeing Justice of the Quorum at the end of his Titles. Things went on pretty well, as we threw our Eyes occasionally over the Tree, when unfortunately he perceived a Merchant-Tailor perched on a Bough, who was said greatly to have encreased the Estate; he was just a going to cut him off, if he had not seen Gent. after the Name of his Son; who was recorded to have mortgaged one of the Manors his honest Father had purchased. A Weaver, who was burnt for his Religion in the Reign of Queen Mary, was pruned away without Mercy; as was likewise a Yeoman, who died of a Fall from his own Cart. But great was our Triumph in one of the Blood who was beheaded for High-Treason; which nevertheless was not a little allayed by another of our Ancestors, who was hanged for stealing Sheep. The Expectations of my good Cousin were wonderfully raised by a Match into the Family of a Knight, but unfortunately for us this Branch proved Barren: On the other hand Margery the Milk-maid being twined round a Bough, it flourished out into so many Shoots, and bent with so much Fruit, that the old Gentleman was quite out of Countenance. To comfort me, under this Disgrace, he singled out a Branch ten times more fruitful than the other, which, he told me, he valued more than any in the Tree, and bad me be of good Comfort. This enormous Bough was a Graft out of a Welsh Heiress, with so many Ap's upon it that it might have made a little Grove by it self. From the Trunk of the Pedigree, which was chiefly composed of Labourers and Shepherds, arose a huge Sprout of Farmers; this was branched out into Yeomen; and ended in a Sheriff of the County, who was Knighted for his good Service to the Crown, in bringing up an Address. Several of the Names that seemed to disparage the Family, being looked upon as Mistakes, were lopped off as rotten or withered; as, on the contrary, no small Number appearing without any Titles, my Cousin, to supply the Defects of the Manuscript, added Esq; at the End of each of them.

'This Tree so pruned, dressed, and cultivated, was, within few Days, transplanted into a large Sheet of Vellum and placed in the great Hall, where it attracts the Veneration of his Tenants every Sunday Morning, while they wait till his Worship is ready to go to Church; wondering that a Man who had so many Fathers before him, should not be made a [Knight,] [1] or at least a Justice of the Peace.'



[Footnote 1: Lord,]



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No. 613. Friday, October 29, 1714.



'—Studiis florentem ignobilis oti—'

Virg.



It is reckoned a Piece of Ill-breeding for one Man to engross the whole Talk to himself. For this Reason, since I keep three Visiting-Days in the Week, I am content now and then to let my Friends put in a Word. There are several Advantages hereby accruing both to my Readers and my self. As first, Young and modest Writers have an Opportunity of getting into Print: Again, The Town enjoys the Pleasure of Variety; and Posterity will see the Humour of the present Age, by the help of these little Lights into private and domestick Life. The Benefits I receive from thence, are such as these: I gain more Time for future Speculations; pick up Hints which I improve for the publick Good; give Advice; redress Grievances; and, by leaving commodious Spaces between the several Letters that I print, furnish out a Spectator with little Labour and great Ostentation.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

'I was mightily pleased with your Speculation of Friday. Your Sentiments are Noble, and the whole worked up in such a manner, as cannot but strike upon every Reader. But give me leave to make this Remark: That while you write so Pathetically on Contentment, and a retired Life, you sooth the Passion of Melancholy, and depress the Mind from Actions truly Glorious. Titles and Honours are the Reward of Virtue: We therefore ought to be affected with them: And tho' light Minds are too much puffed up with exterior Pomp, yet I cannot see why it is not as truly Philosophical, to admire the glowing Ruby, or the sparkling Green of an Emerald, as the fainter and less permanent Beauties of a Rose or a Myrtle. If there are Men of extraordinary Capacities who lye concealed from the World, I should impute it to them as a Blot in their Character, did not I believe it owing to the Meanness of their Fortune rather than of their Spirit. Cowley, who tells the Story of Aglas with so much Pleasure, was no Stranger to Courts, nor insensible of Praise.

'What shall I do to be for ever known, And make the Age to come my own?'

was the Result of a laudable Ambition. It was not till after frequent Disappointments, that he termed himself the Melancholy Cowley; and he praised Solitude, when he despair'd of shining in a Court. The Soul of Man is an active Principle. He therefore, who withdraws himself from the Scene before he has play'd his Part, ought to be hissed off the Stage, and cannot be deemed Virtuous, because he refuses to answer his End. I must own I am fired with an honest Ambition to imitate every illustrious Example. The Battles of Blenheim and Ramillies have more than once made me wish my self a Soldier. And when I have seen those Actions so nobly celebrated by our Poets, I have secretly aspir'd to be one of that distinguished Class. But in vain I wish, in vain I pant with the Desire of Action. I am chained down in Obscurity, and the only Pleasure I can take is in seeing so many brighter Genius's join their friendly Lights, to add to the Splendor of the Throne. Farewel then dear Spec, and believe me to be with great Emulation, and no Envy,'

Your profess'd Admirer,

Will. Hopeless.

Middle-Temple, October 26, 1714.

SIR,

'Tho' you have formerly made Eloquence the Subject of one or more of your Papers, I do not remember that you ever consider'd it as possessed by a Set of People, who are so far from making Quintilian's Rules their Practice, that, I dare say for them, they never heard of such an Author, and yet are no less Masters of it than Tully or Demosthenes among the Ancients, or whom you please amongst the Moderns. The Persons I am speaking of are our common Beggars about this Town; and that what I say is true, I appeal to any Man who has a Heart one Degree softer than a Stone. As for my part, who don't pretend to more Humanity than my Neighbours, I have oftentimes gone from my Chambers with Money in my Pocket, and returned to them not only Pennyless, but destitute of a Farthing, without bestowing of it any other way than on these seeming Objects of Pity. In short, I have seen more Eloquence in a Look from one of these despicable Creatures, than in the Eye of the fairest She I ever saw, yet no one is a greater Admirer of that Sex than my self. What I have to desire of you is, to lay down some Directions in order to guard against these powerful Orators, or else I know nothing to the contrary but I must my self be forced to leave the Profession of the Law, and endeavour to get the Qualifications necessary to that more profitable one of Begging. But in which soever of these two Capacities I shine, I shall always desire to be your constant Reader, and ever will be'

Your most humble Servant,

J. B.

SIR,

'Upon Reading a Spectator last Week, where Mrs. Fanny Fickle submitted the Choice of a Lover for Life to your decisive Determination, and imagining I might claim the Favour of your Advice in an Affair of the like, but much more difficult Nature, I called for Pen and Ink, in order to draw the Characters of Seven Humble Servants, whom I have equally encouraged for some time. But alas! while I was reflecting on the agreeable Subject, and contriving an advantageous Description of the dear Person I was most inclined to favour, I happened to look into my Glass. The sight of the Small-Pox, out of which I am just recovered, tormented me at once with the loss of my captivating Arts and my Captives. The Confusion I was in, on this unhappy, unseasonable Discovery, is inexpressible. Believe me, Sir, I was so taken up with the Thoughts of your fair Correspondent's Case, and so intent on my own Design, that I fancied myself as Triumphant in my Conquests as ever.

'Now, Sir, finding I was incapacitated to Amuse my self on that pleasing Subject, I resolved to apply my self to you, or your Casuistical Agent, for Advice in my present Circumstances. I am sensible the Tincture of my Skin, and the Regularity of my Features, which the Malice of my late Illness has altered, are irrecoverable; yet don't despair, but that Loss, by your Assistance, may in some measure be reparable, if you'll please to propose a way for the Recovery of one only of my Fugitives.

'One of them is in a more particular Manner beholden to me than the rest; he for some private Reasons being desirous to be a Lover incognito, always addressed me with Billet-Doux, which I was so careful of in my Sickness, that I secured the Key of my Love-Magazine under my Head, and hearing a noise of opening a Lock in my Chamber, indangered my Life by getting out of Bed, to prevent, if it had been attempted, the Discovery of that Amour.

'I have formerly made use of all those Artifices, which our Sex daily practises over yours, to draw, as it were undesignedly, the eyes of a whole Congregation to my Pew; I have taken a Pride in the number of Admirers at my Afternoon LevEe; but am now quite another Creature. I think, could I regain the attractive Influence I once had, if I had a Legion of Suitors, I should never be ambitious of Entertaining more than one. I have almost contracted an Antipathy to the trifling Discourses of Impertinent Lovers, though I must needs own, I have thought it very odd of late, to hear Gentlemen, instead of their usual Complacencies, fall into Disputes before me of Politicks, or else weary me with the tedious Repetition of how thankful I ought to be, and satisfied with my Recovery out of so dangerous a Distemper: This, though I am very sensible of the Blessing, yet I cannot but dislike, because such Advice from them rather seems to Insult than Comfort me, and reminds me too much of what I was; which melancholy Consideration I cannot yet perfectly surmount, but hope your Sentiments on this Head will make it supportable.

'To shew you what a Value I have for your Dictates, these are to certify the Persons concern'd, that unless one of them returns to his Colours, (if I may so call them now) before the Winter is over, I'll voluntarily confine my self to a Retirement, where I'll punish them all with my Needle. I'll be reveng'd on them by deciphering them on a Carpet, humbly begging Admittance, my self scornfully refusing it: If you disapprove of this, as favouring too much of Malice, be pleased to acquaint me with a Draught you like better, and it shall be faithfully performed'

By the Unfortunate

Monimia.



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No. 614. Monday, November 1, 1712.



'Si mihi non animo fixum, immotumque sederet, Ne cui me vinclo vellem sociare jugali, Postquam primus amor deceptam morte fefellit; Si non pertaesum thalami, tedaeque fuisset: Huic uni forsan potui succumbere culpae.'

Virg.



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

Mr. SPECTATOR,

'Having, in some former Papers, taken Care of the two States of Virginity and Marriage, and being willing that all People should be served in their Turn; I this Day drew out my Drawer of Widows, where I met with several Cases, to each whereof I have returned satisfactory Answers by the Post. The Cases are as follow:

'Q. Whether Amoret be bound by a Promise of Marriage to Philander, made during her Husband's Life?

'Q. Whether Sempronia, having faithfully given a Promise to two several Persons during the last Sickness of her Husband, is not thereby left at Liberty to chase which of them she pleases, or to reject them both for the sake of a new Lover?

'Cleora asks me, Whether she be obliged to continue single, according to a Vow made to her Husband at the time of his presenting her with a Diamond Necklace; she being informed by a very pretty young Fellow of a good Conscience, that such Vows are in their Nature sinful?

'Another enquires, Whether she hath not the Right of Widowhood, to dispose of her self to a Gentleman of great Merit, who presses very hard; her Husband being irrecoverably gone in a Consumption?

'An unreasonable Creature hath the Confidence to ask, Whether it be proper for her to marry a Man who is younger than her eldest Son?

'A scrupulous well-spoken Matron, who gives me a great many good Words, only doubts, Whether she is not obliged in Conscience to shut up her two marriageable Daughters, till such time as she hath comfortably disposed of her self?

'Sophronia, who seems by her Phrase and Spelling to be a Person of Condition, sets forth, That whereas she hath a great Estate, and is but a Woman, she desires to be informed, whether she would not do prudently to marry Camillus, a very idle tall young Fellow, who hath no Fortune of his own, and consequently hath nothing else to do but to manage hers.'

Before I speak of Widows, I cannot but observe one thing, which I do not know how to account for; a Widow is always more sought after, than an old Maid of the same Age. It is common enough among ordinary People, for a stale Virgin to set up a Shop in a Place where she is not known; where the large Thumb Ring, supposed to be given her by her Husband, quickly recommends her to some wealthy Neighbour, who takes a Liking to the jolly Widow, that would have overlooked the venerable Spinster.

The Truth of it is, if we look into this Sett of Women, we find, according to the different Characters or Circumstances wherein they are left, that Widows may be divided into those who raise Love, and those who raise Compassion.

But not to ramble from this Subject, there are two Things in which consists chiefly the Glory of a Widow; The Love of her deceased Husband, and the Care of her Children: To which may be added a third arising out of the former, Such a prudent Conduct as may do Honour to both.

A Widow possessed of all these three Qualities, makes not only a virtuous but a sublime Character.

There is something so great and so generous in this State of Life, when it is accompanied with all its Virtues, that it is the Subject of one of the finest among our modern Tragedies in the Person of Andromache; and hath met with an universal and deserved Applause, when introduced upon our English Stage by Mr. Philips.

The most memorable Widow in History is Queen Artemisia, who not only erected the famous Mausoleum, but drank up the Ashes of her dead Lord; thereby enclosing them in a nobler Monument than that which she had built, though deservedly esteemed one of the Wonders of Architecture.

This last Lady seems to have had a better Title to a second Husband than any I have read of, since not one Dust of her First was remaining. Our modern Heroines might think a Husband a very bitter Draught, and would have good Reason to complain, if they might not accept of a second Partner, till they had taken such a troublesome Method of losing the Memory of the first.

I shall add to these illustrious Examples out of ancient Story, a remarkable instance of the Delicacy of our Ancestors in Relation to the State of Widowhood, as I find it recorded in Cowell's Interpreter. At East and West-Enborne, in the County of Berks, if a Customary Tenant die, the Widow shall have what the Law calls her Free-Bench in all his Copy-hold Lands, dum sola & casta fuerit; that is, while she lives single and chaste; but if she commit Incontinency, she forfeits her Estate: Yet if she will come into the Court riding backward upon a Black Ram, with his Tail in her Hand, and say the Words following, the Steward is bound by the Custom to re-admit her to her Free-Bench. [1]

'Here I am, Riding upon a Black Ram, Like a Whore as I am; And, for my_ Crincum Crancum, _Have lost my_ Bincum Bancum; And, for my Tail's Game, Have done this worldly Shame; Therefore, I pray you Mr. Steward, let me have my Land again.'

The like Custom there is in the Manor of Torre in Devonshire, and other Parts of the West.

It is not impossible but I may in a little Time present you with a Register of Berkshire Ladies and other Western Dames, who rode publickly upon this Occasion; and I hope the Town will be entertained with a Cavalcade of Widows.



[Footnote 1: Frank Bank or Free bench are copyhold lands which the wife, being married a spinster, had after her husband's death for dower.]



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No. 615. Wednesday, November 3, 1714.



'—Qui Deorum Muneribus sapienter uti, Duramque callet pauperiem pati, Pejusque letho flagitium timet: Non ille pro caris amicis Aut patria timidus perire.'

Hor.



It must be owned that Fear is a very powerful Passion, since it is esteemed one of the greatest of Virtues to subdue it. It being implanted in us for our Preservation, it is no Wonder it sticks close to us, as long as we have any thing we are willing to preserve. But as Life, and all its Enjoyments, would be scarce worth the keeping, if we were under a perpetual Dread of losing them; it is the Business of Religion and Philosophy to free us from all unnecessary Anxieties, and direct our Fear to its proper Object.

If we consider the Painfulness of this Passion, and the violent Effects it produces, we shall see how dangerous it is to give way to it upon slight Occasions. Some have frightened themselves into Madness, others have given up their Lives to these Apprehensions. The Story of a Man who grew grey in the Space of one Night's Anxiety is very famous;

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

These Apprehensions, if they proceed from a Consciousness of Guilt, are the sad Warnings of Reason; and may excite our Pity, but admit of no Remedy. When the Hand of the Almighty is visibly lifted against the Impious, the Heart of mortal Man cannot withstand him. We have this Passion sublimely represented in the Punishment of the Egyptians, tormented with the Plague of Darkness, in the Apocryphal Book. of Wisdom ascribed to Solomon.

'For when unrighteous Men thought to oppress the holy Nation; they being shut up in their Houses, the Prisoners of Darkness, and fetter'd with the Bonds of a long Night, lay here exiled from the eternal Providence. For while they supposed to lye hid in their secret Sins, they were scattered under a dark Veil of Forgetfulness, being horribly astonished and troubled with strange Apparitions—For Wickedness, condemned by her own Witness, is very timorous, and being oppressed with Conscience, always forecasteth grievous things. For Fear is nothing else but a betraying of the Succours which Reason offereth—For the whole World shined with clear Light, and none were hindered in their Labour. Over them only was spread a heavy Night, an Image of that Darkness which should afterwards receive them; but yet were they unto themselves more grievous than the Darkness.' [1]

To Fear, so justly grounded, no Remedy can be proposed; but a Man (who hath no great Guilt hanging upon his Mind, who walks in the plain Path of Justice and Integrity, and yet either by natural Complection, or confirmed Prejudices, or Neglect of serious Reflection, suffers himself to be moved by this abject and unmanly Passion) would do well to consider, That there is nothing which deserves his Fear, but that beneficent Being who is his Friend, his Protector, his Father. Were this one Thought strongly fixed in the Mind, what Calamity would be dreadful? What Load can Infamy lay upon us when we are sure of the Approbation of him, who will repay the Disgrace of a Moment with the Glory of Eternity? What Sharpness is there in Pain and Diseases, when they only hasten us on to the Pleasures that will never fade? What sting is in Death, when we are assured that it is only the Beginning of Life? A Man who lives so, as not to fear to die, is inconsistent with himself, if he delivers himself up to any incidental Anxiety.

The Intrepidity of a just good Man is so nobly set forth by Horace, that it cannot be too often repeated.

'The Man resolved and steady to his Trust, Inflexible to Ill, and obstinately just, May the rude Rabble's Insolence despise, Their senseless Clamours and tumultuous Cries; The Tyrant's Fierceness he beguiles, And the stern Brow, and the harsh Voice defies, And with superior Greatness smiles.

Not the rough Whirlwind, that deforms Adria's black Gulf, and vexes it with Storms, The stubborn Virtue of his Soul can move; Not the Red Arm of angry Jove, That flings the Thunder from the Sky, And gives it Rage to roar, and Strength to fly.

Should the whole Frame of Nature round him break, In Ruin and Confusion hurl'd, He, unconcerned, would hear the mighty Crack, And Stand secure amidst a falling World.' [2]

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

First, What we fear may not come to pass. No human Scheme can be so accurately projected, but some little Circumstance intervening may spoil it. He, who directs the Heart of Man at his Pleasure, and understands the Thoughts long before, may by ten thousand Accidents, or an immediate Change in the Inclinations of Men, disconcert the most subtle Project, and turn it to the Benefit of his own Servants.

In the next Place we should consider, though the Evil we imagine should come to pass, it may be much more supportable than it appeared to be. As there is no prosperous State of Life without its Calamities, so there is no Adversity without its Benefits, Ask the Great and Powerful, if they do not feel the Pangs of Envy and Ambition. Enquire of the Poor and Needy, if they have not tasted the Sweets of Quiet and Contentment. Even under the Pains of Body; the Infidelity of Friends; or the Misconstructions put upon our laudable Actions, our Minds (when for some Time accustomed to these Pressures) are sensible of secret Flowings of Comfort, the present Reward of a pious Resignation. The Evils of this Life appear like Rocks and Precipices, rugged and barren at a Distance, but at our nearer Approach, we find little fruitful Spots, and refreshing Springs, mixed with the Harshness and Deformities of Nature.

In the last Place, we may comfort our selves with this Consideration; that, as the Thing feared may not reach us, so we may not reach what we fear: Our Lives may not extend to that dreadful Point which we have in View. He who knows all our Failings, and will not suffer us to be tempted beyond our Strength, is often pleased in his tender Severity, to separate the Soul from its Body and Miseries together.

If we look forward to him for Help, we shall never be in Danger of falling down those Precipices which our Imagination is apt to create. Like those who walk upon a Line, if we keep our Eye fixed upon one Point, we may step forward securely; whereas an imprudent or cowardly Glance on either Side will infallibly destroy us.



[Footnote 1: Wisd. xvii. passim.]

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



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No. 616. Friday, November 5, 1714.



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

Martial.



Cicero hath observed, that a Jest is never uttered with a better Grace, than when it is accompanied with a serious Countenance. When a pleasant Thought plays in the Features, before it discovers it self in Words, it raises too great an Expectation, and loses the Advantage of giving Surprize. Wit and Humour are no less poorly recommended by a Levity of Phrase, and that kind of Language which may be distinguished by the Name of Cant. Ridicule is never more strong, than when it is concealed in Gravity. True Humour lies in the Thought, and arises from the Representation of Images in odd Circumstances, and uncommon Lights. A pleasant Thought strikes us by the Force of its natural Beauty; and the Mirth of it is generally rather palled, than heightened by that ridiculous Phraseology, which is so much in Fashion among the Pretenders to Humour and Pleasantry. This Tribe of Men are like our Mountebanks; they make a Man a Wit, by putting him in a fantastick Habit.

Our little Burlesque Authors, who are the Delight of ordinary Readers, generally abound in these pert Phrases, which have in them more Vivacity than Wit.

I lately saw an Instance of this kind of Writing, which gave me so lively an Idea of it, that I could not forbear begging a Copy of the Letter from the Gentleman who shew'd it to me. It is written by a Country Wit, upon the Occasion of the Rejoycings on the Day of the King's Coronation.

Dear Jack, (Past two a Clock and a frosty Morning.) [1]

I have just left the Right Worshipful and his Myrmidons about a Sneaker of Five Gallons. The whole Magistracy was pretty well disguised before I gave 'em the Slip. Our Friend the Alderman was half Seas over before the Bonfire was out. We had with us the Attorney, and two or three other bright Fellows. The Doctor plays least in Sight.

At Nine a Clock in the Evening we set Fire to the Whore of Babylon. The Devil acted his Part to a Miracle. He has made his Fortune by it. We equip'd the young Dog with a Tester a-piece. Honest old Brown of England was very drunk, and showed his Loyalty to the Tune of a hundred Rockets. The Mob drank the King's Health, on their Marrow-bones, in Mother Day's Double. They whip'd us half a dozen Hogsheads. Poor Tom Tyler had like to have been demolished with the End of a Sky-Rocket, that fell upon the Bridge of his Nose as he was drinking the King's Health, and spoiled his Tip. The Mob were very loyal 'till about Midnight, when they grew a little mutinous for more Liquor. They had like to have dumfounded the Justice; but his Clerk came in to his Assistance, and took them all down in Black and White.

When I had been huzza'd out of my Seven Senses, I made a Visit to the Women, who were guzzling very comfortably. Mrs. Mayoress clip'd the King's English. Clack was the Word.

I forgot to tell thee, that every one of the Posse had his Hat cocked with a Distich: The Senators sent us down a Cargo of Ribbon and Metre for the Occasion.

Sir Richard to shew his Zeal for the Protestant Religion, is at the Expence of a Tar-Barrel and a Ball. I peeped into the Knight's great Hall, and saw a very pretty Bevy of Spinsters. My dear Relict was amongst them, and ambled in a Country-Dance as notably as the best of 'em.

May all his Majesty's liege Subjects love him as well as his good People of this his ancient Borough. Adieu.



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



* * * * *



No. 617. Monday, November 8, 1714.



'Torva Mimalloneis implerunt cornua bombis, Et raptum vitulo caput ablatura superbo Bassaris, et lyncem Maenas flexura corymbis, Evion ingeminat reparabilis adsonat Echo.'

Persius.



There are two Extreams in the Stile of Humour, one of which consists in the Use of that little pert Phraseology which I took Notice of in my last Paper; the other in the Affectation of strained and pompous Expressions, fetched from the learned Languages. The first savours too much of the Town; the other of the College.

As nothing illustrates better than Example, I shall here present my Reader with a Letter of Pedantick Humour, which was written by a young Gentleman of the University to his Friend; on the same Occasion, and from the same Place, as the lively Epistle published in my last Spectator.

Dear Chum,

'It is now the third Watch of the Night, the greatest Part of which I have spent round a capacious Bowl of China, filled with the choicest Products of both the Indies. I was placed at a quadrangular Table, diametrically opposite to the Mace-bearer. The Visage of that venerable Herald was, according to Custom, most gloriously illuminated on this joyful occasion. The Mayor and Aldermen, those Pillars of our Constitution, began to totter; and if any one at the Board could have so far articulated, as to have demanded intelligibly a Reinforcement of Liquor, the whole Assembly had been by this time extended under the Table.

'The Celebration of this Night's Solemnity was opened by the Obstreperous Joy of Drummers, who, with their Parchment Thunder, gave a signal for the Appearance of the Mob under their several Classes and Denominations. They were quickly joined by the melodious Clank of Marrow-bone and Cleaver, whilst a Chorus of Bells filled up the Consort. A Pyramid of Stack-Faggots cheared the Hearts of the Populace with the Promise of a Blaze: The Guns had no sooner uttered the Prologue, but the Heavens were brightned with artificial Meteors, and Stars of our own making; and all the High-street lighted up from one End to another, with a Galaxy of Candles. We collected a Largess for the Multitude, who tippled Eleemosynary till they grew exceeding Vociferous. There was a Paste-board Pontiff with a little swarthy Daemon at his Elbow, who, by his diabolical Whispers and Insinuations tempted his Holiness into the Fire, and then left him to shift for himself. The Mobile were very sarcastick with their Clubs, and gave the old Gentleman several Thumps upon his triple Head-piece. Tom Tyler's Phiz is something damaged by the Fall of a Rocket, which hath almost spoiled the Gnomon of his Countenance. The Mirth of the Commons grew so very outragious, that it found Work for our Friend of the Quorum, who, by the help of his Amanuensis, took down all their Names and their Crimes, with a Design to produce his Manuscript at the next Quarter-Sessions, &c. &c. &c.

'I shall subjoin to the foregoing Piece of a Letter, the following Copy of Verses translated from an Italian Poet, who was the Cleveland of his Age, and had Multitudes of Admirers. The Subject is an Accident that happened under the Reign of Pope Leo, when a Firework, that had been prepared upon the Castle of St. Angelo, begun to play before its Time, being kindled by a Flash of Lightning. The Author hath written his Poem [1] in the same kind of Style, as that I have already exemplified in Prose. Every Line in it is a Riddle, and the Reader must be forced to consider it twice or thrice, before he will know that the Cynick's Tenement is a Tub, and Bacchus his Cast-coat a Hogs-head, &c.

' 'Twas Night, and Heav'n, a Cyclops, all the Day, An Argus now did countless Eyes display; In ev'ry Window Rome her Joy declares, All bright, and studded with terrestrial Stars. A blazing Chain of Lights her Roofs entwines. And round her Neck the mingled Lustre shines, The Cynick's rowling Tenement conspires, With Bacchus his Cast-coat, to feed the Fires.

The Pile, still big with undiscover'd Shows, The Tuscan Pile did last its Freight disclose, Where the proud Tops of Rome's new AEtna rise, Whence Giants sally, and invade the Skies.

Whilst now the Multitude expect the Time, And their tir'd Eyes the lofty Mountain climb, A thousand Iron Mouths their Voices try, And thunder out a dreadful Harmony; In treble Notes the small Artill'ry plays, The deep-mouth'd Cannon bellows in the Bass. The lab'ring Pile now heaves; and having giv'n Proofs of its Travail sighs in Flames to Heav'n.

The Clouds invelop'd Heav'n from Human Sight, Quench'd every Star, and put out ev'ry Light; Now Real Thunder grumbles in the Skies, And in disdainful Murmurs Rome defies; Nor doth its answer'd Challenge Rome decline; But whilst both Parties in full Consort join, While Heav'n and Earth in Rival Peals resound, The doubtful Cracks the Hearer's Sense confound; Whether the Claps of Thunderbolts they hear, Or else the Burst of Canon wounds their Ear; Whether Clouds raged by struggling Metals rent, Or struggling Clouds in Roman Metals pent. But O, my Muse, the whole Adventure tell, As ev'ry Accident in order fell.

Tall Groves of Trees the Hadrian Tow'r surround, Fictitious Trees with Paper Garlands crown'd, These know no Spring, but when their Bodies sprout In Fire, and shoot their gilded Blossoms out; When blazing Leaves appear above their Head, And into branching Flames their Bodies spread. Whilst real Thunder splits the Firmament, And Heav'n's whole Roof in one vast Cleft is rent, The three-fork'd Tongue amidst the Rupture lolls, Then drops and on the Airy Turret falls. The Trees now kindle, and the Garland burns, And thousand Thunderbolts for one returns. Brigades of burning Archers upward fly, Bright Spears and shining Spear-men mount on high, Flash in the Clouds, and glitter in the Sky. A Seven-fold Shield of Spheres doth Heav'n defend, And back again the blunted Weapons send; Unwillingly they fall, and dropping down, Pour out their Souls, their sulph'rous Souls, and groan.

With Joy, great Sir, we viewed this pompous Show, While Heaven, that sate Spectator still 'till now, It self turn'd Actor, proud to Pleasure you. And so 'tis fit, when Leo's fires appear, That Heav'n it self should turn an Engineer; That Heav'n it self should all its Wonders show, And Orbs above consent with Orbs below.'



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



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No. 618. Wednesday, November 10, 1714.



'—Neque enim concludere versum Dixeris esse satis: neque siquis scribat, uti nos, Sermoni propiora, putes hunc esse Poetam.'

Hor.



Mr. SPECTATOR,

You having, in your two last Spectators, given the Town a couple of Remarkable Letters, in very different Styles: I take this Opportunity to offer to you some Remarks upon the Epistolary way of writing in Verse. This is a Species of Poetry by it self; and has not so much as been hinted at in any of the Arts of Poetry, that have ever fallen into my Hands: Neither has it in any Age, or any Nation, been so much cultivated, as the other several Kinds of Poesie. A Man of Genius may, if he pleases, write Letters in Verse upon all manner of Subjects, that are capable of being embellished with Wit and Language, and may render them new and agreeable by giving the proper Turn to them. But in speaking, at present, of Epistolary Poetry, I would be understood to mean only such Writings in this Kind, as have been in Use amongst the Ancients, and have been copied from them by some Moderns. These may be reduced into two Classes: In the one I shall range Love-Letters, Letters of Friendship, and Letters upon mournful Occasions: In the other I shall place such Epistles in Verse, as may properly be called Familiar, Critical, and Moral; to which may be added Letters of Mirth and Humour. Ovid for the first, and Horace for the Latter, are the best Originals we have left.

'He that is ambitious of succeeding in the Ovidian way, should first examine his Heart well, and feel whether his Passions (especially those of the gentler Kind) play easie, since it is not his Wit, but the Delicacy and Tenderness of his Sentiments, that will affect his Readers. His Versification likewise should be soft, and all his Numbers flowing and querulous.

'The Qualifications requisite for writing Epistles, after the Model given us by Horace, are of a quite different Nature. He that would excel in this kind must have a good Fund of strong Masculine Sense: To this there must be joined a thorough Knowledge of Mankind, together with an Insight into the Business, and the prevailing Humours of the Age. Our Author must have his Mind well seasoned with the finest Precepts of Morality, and be filled with nice Reflections upon the bright and the dark sides of human Life: He must be a Master of refined Raillery, and understand the Delicacies, as well as the Absurdities of Conversation. He must have a lively Turn of Wit, with an easie and concise manner of Expression; Every thing he says, must be in a free and disengaged manner. He must be guilty of nothing that betrays the Air of a Recluse, but appear a Man of the World throughout. His Illustrations, his Comparisons, and the greatest part of his Images must be drawn from common Life. Strokes of Satyr and Criticism, as well as Panegyrick, judiciously thrown in (and as it were by the by) give a wonderful Life and Ornament to Compositions of this kind. But let our Poet, while he writes Epistles, though never so familiar, still remember that he writes in Verse, and must for that reason have a more than ordinary care not to fall into Prose, and a vulgar Diction, excepting where the Nature and Humour of the Thing does necessarily require it. In this Point Horace hath been thought by some Criticks to be sometimes careless, as well as too negligent of his Versification; of which he seems to have been sensible himself.

'All I have to add is, that both these Manners of Writing may be made as entertaining, in their Way, as any other Species of Poetry, if undertaken by Persons duly qualify'd; and the latter sort may be managed so as to become in a peculiar manner Instructive. I am, &ct.'

I shall add an Observation or two to the Remarks of my ingenious Correspondent, and, in the First place, take Notice, that Subjects of the most sublime Nature are often treated in the Epistolary way with Advantage, as in the famous Epistle of Horace to Augustus. The Poet surprizes us with his Pomp, and seems rather betrayed into his Subject, than to have aimed at it by Design: He appears like the Visit of a King Incognito, with a mixture of Familiarity, and Grandeur. In Works of this kind, when the Dignity of the Subject hurries the Poet into Descriptions and Sentiments, seemingly unpremeditated, by a sort of Inspiration; it is usual for him to recollect himself, and fall back gracefully into the natural Stile of a Letter.

I might here mention an Epistolary Poem, just published by Mr. Eusden on the King's Accession to the Throne: Wherein, amongst many other noble and beautiful Strokes of Poetry, his Reader may see this Rule very happily observed.



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No. 619. Friday, November 12, 1714.



'—dura Exerce imperia, et ramos compesce fluentes.'

Virg.



I have often thought, that if the several Letters, which are written to me under the Character of SPECTATOR, and which I have not made use of, were published in a Volume, they would not be an unentertaining Collection. The Variety of the Subjects, Styles, Sentiments, and Informations, which are transmitted to me, would lead a very curious, or very idle Reader, insensibly along, through a great many Pages. I know some Authors, who would pick up a Secret History out of such Materials, and make a Bookseller an Alderman by the Copy. [1] I shall therefore carefully preserve the Original Papers in a Room set apart for that Purpose, to the end that they may be of Service to Posterity; but shall at present content my self, with owning the Receipt of several Letters, lately come to my Hands, the Authors whereof are impatient for an Answer.

CHARISSA, whose Letter is dated from Cornhill, desires to be eased in some Scruples relating to the Skill of Astrologers. Referred to the Dumb Man for an Answer.

J. C. who proposes a Love-Case, as he calls it, to the Love-Casuist, is hereby desir'd to speak of it to the Minister of the Parish; it being a Case of Conscience.

The poor young Lady, whose Letter is dated October 26, who complains of a harsh Guardian, and an unkind Brother, can only have my good Wishes, unless she pleases to be more particular.

The Petition of a certain Gentleman, whose Name I have forgot, famous for renewing the Curls of decayed Perriwigs, is referred to the Censor of small Wares.

The Remonstrance of T. C. against the Profanation of the Sabbath by Barbers, Shoe-cleaners, &c. had better be offer'd to the Society of Reformers.

A learned and laborious Treatise upon the Art of Fencing, returned to the Author.

To the Gentleman of Oxford, who desires me to insert a Copy of Latin Verses which were denied a Place in the University Book. Answer. Nonumque prematur in annum.

To my learned Correspondent who writes against Master's Gowns, and Poke Sleeves, with a Word in Defence of large Scarves. Answer. I resolve not to raise Animosities amongst the Clergy.

To the Lady, who writes with Rage against one of her own Sex, upon the Account of Party Warmth. Answer. Is not the Lady she writes against reckoned Handsome?

I desire Tom Truelove, (who sends me a Sonnet upon his Mistress, with a desire to print it immediately) to consider, that it is long since I was in Love.

I shall answer a very profound Letter from my old Friend the Upholsterer, who is still inquisitive whether the King of Sweden be living or dead, by whispering him in the Ear, That I believe he is alive.

Let Mr. Dapperwit consider, What is that long Story of the Cuckoldom to me?

At the earnest Desire of Monimia's Lover, who declares himself very penitent, he is recorded in my Paper by the Name of The Faithful Castalio.

The Petition of Charles Cocksure, which the Petitioner styles very reasonable—Rejected.

The Memorial of Philander, which he desires may be dispatched out of Hand, Postponed.

I desire S. R. not to repeat the Expression under the Sun so often in his next Letter.

The Letter of P. S. who desires either to have it printed entire, or committed to the Flames. Not to be printed entire.



[Footnote 1: Charles Lillie published, in 1725, 'Original and Genuine Letters sent 'to the Tatler and Spectator during the time those Works were publishing, none of which have been before printed.']



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



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

Virg.



Having lately presented my Reader with a Copy of Verses full of the False Sublime, I shall here communicate to him an excellent Specimen of the True: Though it hath not yet been published, the judicious Reader will readily discern it to be the Work of a Master: And if he hath read that noble Poem on The Prospect of Peace, he will not be at a Loss to guess at the Author.

[The ROYAL PROGRESS.]

'When BRUNSWICK first appear'd, each honest Heart, Intent on Verse, disdain'd the Rules of Art; For him the Songsters, in unmeasur'd Odes, Debas'd Alcides, and dethron'd the Gods, In Golden Chains the Kings of India led, Or rent the Turban from the Sultan's Head. One, in old Fables, and the Pagan Strain, With Nymphs and Tritons, wafts him o'er the Main; Another draws fierce Lucifer in Arms, And fills th' Infernal Region with Alarms; A Third awakes some Druid, to foretel Each future Triumph from his dreary Cell. Exploded Fancies! that in vain deceive, While the Mind nauseates what she can't believe. My [Muse th' expected [1]] Hero shall pursue From Clime to Clime, and keep him still in View; His shining March describe in faithful Lays, Content to paint him, nor presume to praise; Their Charms, if Charms they have, the Truth supplies, And from the Theme unlabour'd Beauties rise.

By longing Nations for the Throne design'd, And call'd to guard the Rights of Human-kind; With secret Grief his God-like Soul repines, And Britain's Crown with joyless Lustre shines, While Prayers and Tears his destin'd Progress stay, And Crowds of Mourners choak their Sovereign's Way. Not so he march'd, when Hostile Squadrons stood In Scenes of Death, and fir'd his generous Blood; When his hot Courser paw'd th' Hungarian Plain, And adverse Legions stood the Shock in vain.

His Frontiers past, the Belgian Bounds he views, And cross the level Fields his March pursues. Here pleas'd the Land of Freedom to survey, He greatly scorns the Thirst of boundless Sway. O'er the thin Soil, with silent Joy he spies Transplanted Woods, and borrow'd Verdure rise; Where every Meadow won with Toil and Blood, From haughty Tyrants, and the raging Flood, With Fruits and Flowers the careful Hind supplies, And cloathes the Marshes in a rich Disguise. Such Wealth for frugal Hands doth Heaven decree, And such thy Gifts, Celestial Liberty!

Through stately Towns, and many a fertile Plain, The Pomp advances to the neighbouring Main. Whole Nations crowd around with joyful Cries, And view the Heroe with insatiate Eyes. In Haga's Towers he waits, 'till Eastern Gales Propitious rise to swell the British Sails. Hither the Fame of England's Monarch brings The Vows and Friendships of the neighb'ring Kings; Mature in Wisdom, his extensive Mind Takes in the blended Int'rests of Mankind, The World's great Patriot. Calm thy anxious Breast, Secure in him, O Europe take thy Rest; Henceforth thy Kingdoms shall remain confined By Rocks or Streams, the Mounds which Heav'n design'd: The Alps their new-made Monarch shall restrain, Nor shall thy Hills, Pirene, rise in vain

But see! to Britain's Isle the Squadrons stand, And leave the sinking Towers, and lessening Land, The Royal Bark bounds o'er the floating Plain, Breaks thro' the Billows, and divides the Main, O'er the vast Deep, Great Monarch, dart thine Eyes, A watry Prospect bounded by the Skies: Ten thousand Vessels, from ten thousand Shores, Bring Gums and Gold, and either India's Stores: Behold the Tributes hastening to thy Throne, And see the wide Horizon all thy own.

Still is it thine; tho' now the cheerful Crew Hail Albion's Cliffs, just whitening to the View. Before the Wind with swelling Sails they ride, Till Thames receives them in his opening Tide. The Monarch hears the thundering Peals around, From trembling Woods and ecchoing Hills rebound, Nor misses yet, amid the deafening Train, The Roarings of the hoarse-resounding Main.

As in the Flood he sails, from either Side He views his Kingdom in its rural Pride; A various Scene the wide-spread Landskip yields, O'er rich Enclosures and luxuriant Fields: A lowing Herd each fertile Pasture fills, And distant Flocks stray o'er a thousand Hills. Fair Greenwich hid in Woods, with new Delight, (Shade above Shade) now rises to the Sight: His Woods ordain'd to visit every Shore, And guard the Island which they graced before.

The Sun now rowling down the Western Way, A Blaze of Fires renews the fading Day; Unnumbered Barks the Regal Barge infold, Brightening the Twilight with its beamy Gold; Less thick the finny Shoals, a countless Fry, Before the Whale or kingly Dolphin fly. In one vast Shout he seeks the crowded Strand, And in a Peal of Thunder gains the Land.

Welcome, great Stranger, to our longing Eyes, Oh! King desir'd, adopted Albion cries. For thee the East breath'd out a prosperous Breeze, Bright were the Suns, and gently swell'd the Seas. Thy Presence did each doubtful Heart compose, And Factions wonder'd that they once were Foes; That joyful Day they lost each Hostile Name, The same their Aspect, and their Voice the same.

So two fair Twins, whose Features were design'd At one soft Moment in the Mother's Mind, Show each the other with reflected Grace, And the same Beauties bloom in either Face; The puzzled Strangers which is which enquire, Delusion grateful to the smiling Sire.

From that fair Hill, where hoary Sages boast To name the Stars, and count the heavenly Host, By the next Dawn doth great Augusta rise, Proud Town! the noblest Scene beneath the Skies. O'er Thames her thousand Spires their Lustre shed, And a vast Navy hides his ample Bed, A floating Forest. From the distant Strand A Line of Golden Carrs strikes o'er the Land: Britannia's Peers in Pomp and rich Array, Before their King, triumphant, lead the Way. Far as the Eye can reach, the gawdy Train, A bright Procession, shines along the Plain.

So haply through the Heav'n's wide pathless Ways A Comet draws a long-extended Blaze; From East to West [burns through [2]] th' ethereal Frame, And half Heav'n's Convex glitters with the Flame.

Now to the Regal Towers securely brought, He plans Britannia's Glories in his Thought; Resumes the delegated Pow'r he gave, Rewards the Faithful and restores the Brave. Whom shall the Muse from out the shining Throng Select to heighten and adorn her Song? Thee, Halifax. To thy capacious Mind, O Man approved, is Britain's Wealth consigned. Her Coin (while Nassau fought) debas'd and rude, By Thee in Beauty and in Truth renew'd, An Arduous Work! again thy Charge we see, And thy own Care once more returns to Thee. O! form'd in every Scene to awe and please, Mix Wit with Pomp, and Dignity with Ease: Tho' call'd to shine aloft, thou wilt not scorn To smile on Arts thy self did once adorn: For this thy Name succeeding Time shall praise, And envy less thy Garter, than thy Bays.

The Muse, if fir'd with thy enlivening Beams, Perhaps shall aim at more exalted Themes, Record our Monarch in a nobler Strain, And sing the opening Wonders of his Reign; Bright CAROLINA's heavenly Beauties trace, Her valiant CONSORT, and his blooming Race. A Train of Kings their fruitful Love supplies, A glorious Scene to Albion's ravish'd Eyes; Who sees by BRUNSWICK's Hand her Sceptre sway'd, And through his Line from Age to Age convey'd.'



[Footnote 1: [artless Muse the]]

[Footnote 2: he burns].



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No. 621. Wednesday, November 17, 1714.



'—postquam se lumine puro Implevit, stellasque vagas miratur et Astra Fixa Polis, vidit quanta sub nocte jaceret Nostra dies, risitque sui ludibria—'

Lucan.



The following Letter having in it some Observations out of the common Road, I shall make it the Entertainment of this Day.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

'The common Topicks against the Pride of Man which are laboured by florid and declamatory Writers, are taken from the Baseness of his Original, the Imperfections of his Nature, or the short Duration of those Goods in which he makes his Boast. Though it be true that we can have nothing in us that ought to raise our Vanity, yet a Consciousness of our own Merit may be sometimes laudable. The Folly therefore lyes here: We are apt to pride our selves in worthless, or perhaps shameful Things; and, on the other hand, count that disgraceful which is our truest Glory.

'Hence it is, that the Lovers of Praise take wrong Measures to attain it. Would a vain Man consult his own Heart, he would find that if others knew his Weaknesses as well as he himself doth, he could not have the Impudence to expect the publick Esteem. Pride therefore flows from want of Reflection, and Ignorance of our selves. Knowledge and Humility come upon us together.

'The proper way to make an Estimate of our selves, is to consider seriously what it is we value or despise in others. A Man who boasts of the Goods of Fortune, a gay Dress or a new Title, is generally the Mark of Ridicule. We ought therefore not to admire in our selves, what we are so ready to laugh at in other Men.

'Much less can we with Reason pride our selves in those things, which at some time of our Life we shall certainly despise. And yet, if we will give our selves the Trouble of looking backward and forward on the several Changes, which we have already undergone and hereafter must try, we shall find that the greater Degrees of our Knowledge and Wisdom, serve only to shew us our own Imperfections.

'As we rise from Childhood to Youth, we look with Contempt on the Toys and Trifles which our Hearts have hitherto been set upon. When, we advance to Manhood, we are held wise in proportion to our Shame and Regret for the Rashness and Extravagance of Youth. Old Age fills us with mortifying Reflections upon a Life, mis-spent in the Pursuit of anxious Wealth or uncertain Honour. Agreeable to this Gradation of Thought in this Life, it may be reasonably supposed, that in a future State, the Wisdom, the Experience, and the Maxims of old Age, will be looked upon by a separate Spirit in much the same Light, as an ancient Man now sees the little Follies and Toyings of Infants. The Pomps, the Honours, the Policies, and Arts of mortal Men, will be thought as trifling as Hobby-Horses, Mock Battles, or any other Sports that now employ all the Cunning, and Strength, and Ambition of rational Beings from four Years old to nine or ten.

'If the Notion of a gradual Rise in Beings, from the meanest to the most High, be not a vain Imagination, it is not improbable that an Angel looks down upon a Man, as a Man doth upon a Creature which approaches the nearest to the rational Nature. By the same Rule (if I may indulge my Fancy in this Particular) a superior Brute looks with a kind of Pride on one of an inferior Species. If they could reflect, we might imagine from the Gestures of some of them, that they think themselves the Sovereigns of the World, and that all things were made for them. Such a Thought would not be more absurd in Brute Creatures, than one which Men are apt to entertain, namely, That all the Stars in the Firmament were created only to please their Eyes and amuse their Imaginations. Mr. Dryden, in his Fable of the Cock and the Fox, makes a Speech for his Hero the Cock, which is a pretty Instance for this Purpose,

'Then turning, said to Partlet, See, my Dear, How lavish Nature hath adorn'd the Year; How the pale Primrose and the Violet spring, And Birds essay their Throats, disus'd to sing: All these are ours, and I with Pleasure see Man strutting on two Legs, and aping me.'

'What I would observe from the Whole is this, That we ought to value our selves upon those Things only which superior Beings think valuable, since that is the only way for us not to sink in our own Esteem hereafter.



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No. 622. Friday, November 19, 1714.

'—Fallentis Semita Vitae.'

Hor.



Mr. SPECTATOR,

'In a former Speculation you have observed, that true Greatness doth not consist in that Pomp and Noise wherein the Generality of Mankind are apt to place it. You have there taken Notice, that Virtue in Obscurity often appears more illustrious in the Eye of superior Beings, than all that passes for Grandeur and Magnificence among Men.

When we look back upon the History of those who have born the Parts of Kings, Statesmen, or Commanders, they appear to us stripped of those out-side Ornaments that dazzled their Contemporaries; and we regard their Persons as great or little, in Proportion to the Eminence of their Virtues or Vices. The wise Sayings, generous Sentiments, or disinterested Conduct of a Philosopher under mean Circumstances of Life, set him higher in our Esteem than the mighty Potentates of the Earth, when we view them both through the long Prospect of many Ages. Were the Memoirs of an obscure Man, who lived up to the Dignity of his Nature, and according to the Rules of Virtue, to be laid before us, we should find nothing in such a Character which might not set him on a Level with Men of the highest Stations. The following Extract out of the private Papers of an honest Country-Gentleman will set this Matter in a clear Light. Your Reader will perhaps conceive a greater Idea of him from these Actions done in Secret, and without a Witness, than of those which have drawn upon them the Admiration of Multitudes.

MEMOIRS.

"In my 22d Year I found a violent Affection for my Cousin Charles's Wife growing upon me, wherein I was in danger of succeeding, if I had not upon that Account begun my Travels into foreign Countries.

"A little after my Return into England, at a private Meeting with my Uncle Francis, I refused the Offer of his Estate, and prevailed upon him not to disinherit his Son Ned.

"Mem. Never to tell this to Ned,, lest he should think hardly of his deceased Father; though he continues to speak ill of me for this very Reason.

"Prevented a scandalous Law-suit betwixt my Nephew Harry and his Mother, by allowing her under-hand, out of my own Pocket, so much Money yearly as the Dispute was about.

"Procured a Benefice for a young Divine, who is Sister's Son to the good Man who was my Tutor, and hath been dead Twenty Years.

"Gave Ten Pounds to poor Mrs.—, my Friend H—'s Widow.

"Mem. To retrench one Dish at my Table, till I have fetched it up again.

"Mem. To repair my House and finish my Gardens in order to employ poor People after Harvest time.

"Ordered John to let out Goodman D—'s Sheep that were pounded, by Night: but not to let his Fellow-Servants know it.

"Prevailed upon M. T. Esq., not to take the Law of the Farmer's Son for shooting a Partridge, and to give him his Gun again.

"Paid the Apothecary for curing an old Woman that confessed her self a Witch.

"Gave away my favourite Dog for biting a Beggar.

"Made the Minister of the Parish and a Whig Justice of one Mind, by putting them upon explaining their Notions to one another.

"Mem, To turn off Peter for shooting a Doe while she was eating Acorns out of his Hand.

"When my Neighbour John, who hath often injured me, comes to make his Request to Morrow:

"Mem. I have forgiven him.

"Laid up my Chariot and sold my Horses, to relieve the Poor in a Scarcity of Corn.

"In the same Year remitted to my Tenants a Fifth Part of their Rents.

"As I was airing to-day, I fell into a Thought that warmed my Heart, and shall, I hope, be the better for it as long as I live.

"Mem. To charge my Son in private to erect no Monument for me; but not to put this in my last Will.



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No. 623. Monday, November 22, 1714. Addison [1].



'Sed mihi vel tellus optem prius ima dehiscat, Vel pater omnipotens adigat me fulmine ad umbras, Pallentes umbras Erebi noctemque profundam, Ante, pudor, quam te violem aut tua jura resolvam. Ille meos, primos qui me sibi junxit, amores Abstulit: ille habeat secum, servetque sepulchro.'

Virg.



I am obliged to my Friend, the Love-Casuist[2], for the following Curious Piece of Antiquity, which I shall communicate to the Publick in his own Words.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

'You may remember, that I lately transmitted to you an Account of an ancient Custom, in the Manors of East and West-Enborne, in the County of Berks, and elsewhere. If a Customary Tenant die, the Widow shall have what the Law calls her Free-Bench in all his Copyhold Lands, dum sola et casta fuerit, that is, while she lives single and chaste; but if she commits Incontinency, she forfeits her Estate; Yet if she will come into the Court riding backward upon a Black Ram, with his Tail in her Hand, and say the Words following, the Steward is bound by the Custom to re-admit her to her Free-Bench.

'Here I am, Riding upon a Black Ram, Like a Whore as I am; And, for my Crincum Crancum, Have lost my Bincum Bancum; And, for my Tail's Game, Have done this worldly Shame; Therefore, I pray you Mr. Steward, let me have my Land again.'

'After having informed you that my Lord Coke observes, that this is the most frail and slippery Tenure of any in England, I shall tell you, since the Writing of that Letter, I have, according to my Promise, been at great Pains in searching out the Records of the Black Ram; and have at last met with the Proceedings of the Court-Baron, held in that Behalf, for the Space of a whole Day. The Record saith, that a strict Inquisition having been made into the Right of the Tenants to their several Estates, by a crafty old Steward, he found that many of the Lands of the Manor were, by default of the several Widows, forfeited to the Lord, and accordingly would have enter'd on the Premises: Upon which the good Women demanded the Benefit of the Ram. The Steward, after having perused their several Pleas, adjourn'd the Court to Barnaby-bright [3], that they might have Day enough before them.

'The Court being set, and filled with a great Concourse of People, who came from all Parts to see the Solemnity, the first who entered was the Widow Frontly, who had made her Appearance in the last Year's Cavalcade. The Register observes, that finding it an easy Pad-Ram, and foreseeing she might have further Occasion for it, she purchased it of the Steward.

'Mrs. Sarah Dainty, Relict of Mr. John Dainty, (who was the greatest Prude in the Parish) came next in the Procession. She at first made some Difficulty of taking the Tail in her Hand; and was observed in pronouncing the Form of Penance, to soften the two most emphatical Words into Clincum Clancum: But the Steward took care to make her speak plain English before he would let her have her Land again.

'The third Widow that was brought to this worldly Shame, being mounted upon a vicious Ram, had the Misfortune to be thrown by him; upon which she hoped to be excused from going thro' the rest of the Ceremony: But the Steward being well versed in the Law, observed very wisely upon this Occasion, that the breaking of the Rope does not hinder the Execution of the Criminal.

'The fourth Lady upon Record was the Widow Ogle, a famous Coquette, who had kept half a Score young Fellows off and on for the Space of two Years; but having been more kind to her Carter John, she was introduced with the Huzza's of all her Lovers about her.

'Mrs. Sable appearing in her Weeds, which were very new and fresh, and of the same Colour with her whimsical Palfrey, made a very decent Figure in the Solemnity.

'Another, who had been summoned to make her Appearance, was excused by the Steward, as well knowing in his Heart, that the good Squire himself had qualified her for the Ram.

'Mrs. Quick having nothing to object against the Indictment, pleaded her Belly. But it was remembred that she made the same Excuse the Year before. Upon which the Steward observ'd, that she might so contrive it, as never to do the Service of the Manor.

'The Widow Fidget being cited into Court, insisted that she had done no more since the Death of her Husband, than what she used to do in his Life-time; and withal desir'd Mr. Steward to consider his own Wife's Case, if he should chance to die before her.

'The next in order was a Dowager of a very corpulent Make, who would have been excused as not finding any Ram that was able to carry her; upon which the Steward commuted her Punishment, and ordered her to make her Entry upon a black Ox.

'The Widow Maskwell, a Woman who had long lived with a most unblemished Character, having turned off her old Chamber-maid in a Pet, was by that revengeful Creature brought in upon the black Ram Nine times the same Day.

'Several Widows of the Neighbourhood, being brought upon their Tryal, they shewed that they did not hold of the Manor, and were discharged accordingly.

'A pretty young Creature who closed the Procession, came ambling in, with so bewitching an Air, that the Steward was observ'd to cast a Sheep's Eye upon her, and married her within a Month after the Death of his Wife.

'N. B. Mrs. Touchwood appeared, according to Summons, but had nothing laid to her Charge; having liv'd irreproachably since the Decease of her Husband, who left her a Widow in the Sixty-ninth Year of her Age.'

I am, SIR, &c.



[Footnote 1: See note to No. 608.]

[Footnote 2: See Nos. 591, 602, 605, 614, and 625.]

[Footnote 3: Then the 11th, now the 22nd of June, longest day of the year.]



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No. 624. Wednesday, November 24, 1714.



'Audire, atque togam jubeo componere, quisquis Ambitione mala, aut argenti pallet amore Quisquis luxuria—'

Hor.



Mankind is divided into two Parts, the Busie and the Idle. The Busie World may be divided into the Virtuous and the Vicious. The Vicious again into the Covetous, the Ambitious, and the Sensual. The idle Part of Mankind are in a State inferior to any one of these. All the other are engaged in the Pursuit of Happiness, though often misplaced, and are therefore more likely to be attentive to such Means, as shall be proposed to them for that End. The Idle, who are neither wise for this World, nor the next, are emphatically called by Dr. Tillotson, Fools at large. They propose to themselves no End, but run adrift with every Wind. Advice therefore would be but thrown away upon them, since they would scarce take the Pains to read it. I shall not fatigue any of this worthless Tribe with a long Harangue; but will leave them with this short Saying of Plato, that Labour is preferable to Idleness, as Brightness to Rust.

The Pursuits of the Active Part of Mankind, are either in the Paths of Religion and Virtue; or, on the other Hand, in the Roads to Wealth, Honours or Pleasure. I shall therefore compare the Pursuits of Avarice, Ambition and sensual Delight, with their opposite Virtues; and shall consider which of these Principles engages Men in a Course of the greatest Labour, Suffering and Assiduity. Most Men, in their cool Reasonings, are willing to allow that a Course of Virtue will in the End be rewarded the most amply; but represent the Way to it as rugged and narrow. If therefore it can be made appear, that Men struggle through as many Troubles to be miserable, as they do to be happy, my Readers may perhaps be perswaded to be Good, when they find they shall lose nothing by it.

First, for Avarice. The Miser is more Industrious than the Saint: The Pains of getting, the Fears of losing, and the Inability of enjoying his Wealth, have been the Mark of Satyr in all Ages. Were his Repentance upon his Neglect of a good Bargain, his Sorrow for being over-reached, his Hope of improving a Sum, and his Fear of falling into Want, directed to their proper Objects; they would make so many different Christian Graces and Virtues. He may apply to himself a great Part of St. Paul's Catalogue of Sufferings. In journeying often; in Perils of Water, in Perils of Robbers, in Perils among false Brethren. In Weariness and Painfulness, in Watchings often, in Hunger and Thirst, in Fastings often,—At how much less Expence might he lay up to himself Treasures in Heaven; or if I may, in this Place, be allowed to add the Saying of a great Philosopher, he may provide such Possessions, as fear neither Arms, nor Men, nor Jove himself.

In the second Place, if we look upon the Toils of Ambition, in the same Light as we have considered those of Avarice, we shall readily own that far less Trouble is requisite to gain lasting Glory, than the Power and Reputation of a few Years; or, in other Words, we may with more Ease deserve Honour, than obtain it. The Ambitious Man should remember Cardinal Woolsey's Complaint.

'Had I served God, with the same Application, wherewith I served my King, he would not have forsaken me in my old Age.'

The Cardinal here softens his Ambition by the specious Pretence of serving his King: Whereas his Words in the proper Construction, imply, that if instead of being acted by Ambition, he had been acted by Religion, he should have now felt the Comforts of it, when the whole World turned its Back upon him.

Thirdly, Let us compare the Pains of the Sensual, with those of the Virtuous, and see which are heavier in the Balance. It may seem strange, at the first View, that the Men of Pleasure should be advised to change their Course, because they lead a painful Life. Yet when we see them so active and vigilant in quest of Delight; under so many Disquiets, and the Sport of such various Passions; let them answer, as they can, if the Pains they undergo, do not outweigh their Enjoyments. The Infidelities on the one Part between the two Sexes, and the Caprices on the other, the Debasement of Reason, the Pangs of Expectation, the Disappointments in Possession, the Stings of Remorse, the Vanities and Vexations attending even the most refined Delights that make up this Business of Life, render it so silly and uncomfortable, that no Man is thought wise till he hath got over it, or happy, but in proportion as he hath cleared himself from it.

The Sum of all is this. Man is made an active Being. Whether he walks in the Paths of Virtue or Vice, he is sure to meet with many Difficulties to prove his Patience, and excite his Industry. The same if not greater Labour, is required in the Service of Vice and Folly, as of Virtue and Wisdom: And he hath this easie Choice left him, whether with the Strength he is Master of, he will purchase Happiness or Repentance.



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No. 625. Friday, November 26, 1714.



'—amores A tenero meditatur Ungui—'

Hor.



The Love Casuist hath referred to me the following Letter of Queries, with his Answers to each Question, for my Approbation. I have accordingly consider'd the several Matters therein contained, and hereby confirm and ratifie his Answers, and require the gentle Querist to conform her self thereunto.

SIR,

'I was Thirteen the Ninth of November last, and must now begin to think of settling my self in the World, and so I would humbly beg your Advice, what I must do with Mr. Fondle, who makes his Addresses to me. He is a very pretty Man, and hath the blackest Eyes and whitest Teeth you ever saw. Though he is but a younger Brother, he dresses like a Man of Quality, and no Body comes into a Room like him. I know he hath refused great Offers, and if he cannot Marry me, he will never have any Body else. But my Father hath forbid him the House, because he sent me a Copy of Verses; for he is one of the greatest Wits in Town. My eldest Sister, who, with her good Will, would call me Miss as long as I live, must be married before me, they say. She tells them, that Mr. Fondle makes a Fool of me, and will spoil the Child, as she calls me, like a confident thing as she is. In short, I am resolved to marry Mr. Fondle, if it be but to spite her. But because I would do nothing that is imprudent, I beg of you to give me your Answers to some Questions I will write down, and desire you to get them printed in the SPECTATOR, and I do not doubt but you will give such Advice, as, I am sure, I shall follow.

'When Mr. Fondle looks upon me for half an Hour together, and calls me Angel, is he not in Love?

Answer, No.

'May not I be certain he will be a kind Husband, that has promised me half my Portion in Pin-money, and to keep me a Coach and Six in the Bargain.

No.

'Whether I, who have been acquainted with him this whole Year almost, am not a better Judge of his Merit, than my Father and Mother, who never heard him talk, but at Table?

No.

'Whether I am not old enough to chuse for my self?

No.

'Whether it would not have been rude in me to refuse a Lock of his Hair?

No.

'Shou'd not I be a very barbarous Creature, if I did not pity a Man that is always Sighing for my Sake?

No.

'Whether you would not advise me to run away with the poor Man?

No.

'Whether you do not think, that if I won't have him, he won't drown himself?

No.

What shall I say to him the next time he asks me if I will marry him?

No.

The following Letter requires neither Introduction, nor Answer.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

I wonder that in the present Situation of Affairs, you can take Pleasure in writing any thing but News; for, in a Word, who minds any thing else? The Pleasure of increasing in Knowledge, and learning something new every Hour of Life, is the noblest Entertainment of a Rational Creature. I have a very good Ear for a Secret, and am naturally of a communicative Temper; by which Means I am capable of doing you great Services in this way. In order to make my self useful, I am early in the Antichamber, where I thrust my Head into the thick of the Press, and catch the News, at the opening of the Door, while it is warm. Sometimes I stand by the Beef-Eaters, and take the Buz as it passes by me. At other times I lay my Ear close to the Wall, and suck in many a valuable Whisper, as it runs in a streight Line from Corner to Corner. When I am weary with standing, I repair to one of the neighbouring Coffee-houses, where I sit sometimes for a whole Day, and have the News as it comes from Court fresh and fresh. In short, Sir, I spare no Pains to know how the World goes. A Piece of News loses its Flavour when it hath been an Hour in the Air. I love, if I may so speak, to have it fresh from the Tree; and to convey it to my Friends before it is faded. Accordingly my Expences in Coach-hire make no small Article; which you may believe, when I assure you, that I post away from Coffee-house to Coffee-house, and forestall the Evening-Post by two Hours. There is a certain Gentleman who hath given me the slip twice or thrice, and hath been beforehand with me at Child's. But I have play'd him a Trick. I have purchas'd a pair of the best Coach-horses I could buy for Money, and now let him out-strip me if he can. Once more, Mr. SPECTATOR, let me advise you to deal in News. You may depend upon my Assistance. But I must break off abruptly, for I have twenty Letters to write.

Yours in haste, Tho. Quid-nunc.



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No. 626. Monday, November 29, 1714. Henry Grove.



'—Dulcique animos novitate tenebo—'

Ov. Met. 1. I.



I have seen a little Work of a learned Man, [1] consisting of extemporary Speculations, which owed their Birth to the most trifling Occurrences of Life. His usual Method was, to write down any sudden Start of Thought which arose in his Mind upon the sight of an odd Gesticulation in a Man, any whimsical Mimickry of Reason in a Beast, or whatever appeared remarkable in any Object of the visible Creation. He was able to moralize upon a Snuff-Box, would flourish eloquently upon a Tucker or a Pair of Ruffles, and draw practical Inferences from a full-bottomed Perriwig. This I thought fit to mention, by way of Excuse, for my ingenious Correspondent, who hath introduced the following Letter by an Image which, I will beg leave to tell him, is too ridiculous in so serious and noble a Speculation.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

'When I have seen young Puss playing her wanton Gambols, and with a thousand antick Shapes express her own Gayety at the same time that she moved mine, while the old Grannum hath sat by with a most exemplary Gravity, unmov'd at all that past; it hath made me reflect what should be the occasion of Humours so opposite in two Creatures, between whom there was no visible Difference but that of Age; and I have been able to resolve it into nothing else but the Force of Novelty.

'In every Species of Creatures, those who have been least Time in the World, appear best pleased with their Condition: For, besides that to a new Comer the World hath a Freshness on it that strikes the Sense after a most agreeable Manner, Being it self, unattended with any great Variety of Enjoyments, excites a Sensation of Pleasure. But as Age advances, every thing seems to wither, the Senses are disgusted with their old Entertainments, and Existence turns flat and insipid. We may see this exemplified in Mankind: The Child, let him be free from Pain, and gratified in his Change of Toys, is diverted with the smallest Trifle. Nothing disturbs the Mirth of the Boy, but a little Punishment or Confinement. The Youth must have more violent Pleasures to employ his Time; the Man loves the Hurry of an active Life, devoted to the Pursuits of Wealth or Ambition; and Lastly, old Age, having lost its Capacity for these Avocations, becomes its own insupportable Burthen. This Variety may in part be accounted for by the Vivacity and Decay of the Faculties; but I believe is chiefly owing to this, That the longer we have been in Possession of Being, the less sensible is the Gust we have of it; and the more it requires of adventitious Amusements to relieve us from the Satiety and Weariness it brings along with it.

'And as Novelty is of a very powerful, so of a most extensive influence. Moralists have long since observed it to be the Source of Admiration, which lessens in proportion to our Familiarity with Objects, and upon a thorough Acquaintance is utterly extinguished. But I think it hath not been so commonly remarked, that all the other Passions depend considerably on the same Circumstance. What is it but Novelty that awakens Desire, enhances Delight, kindles Anger, provokes Envy, inspires Horror? To this Cause we must ascribe it, that Love languishes with Fruition, and Friendship it self is recommended by Intervals of Absence: Hence Monsters, by use, are beheld without loathing, and the most enchanting Beauty without Rapture. That Emotion of the Spirits in which Passion consists, is usually the Effect of Surprize, and as long as it continues, heightens the agreeable or disagreeable Qualities of its Object; but as this Emotion ceases (and it ceases with the Novelty) things appear in another Light, and affects us even less than might be expected from their proper Energy, for having moved us too much before.

'It may not be an useless Enquiry how far the Love of Novelty is the unavoidable Growth of Nature, and in what Respects it is peculiarly adapted to the present State. To me it seems impossible, that a reasonable Creature should rest absolutely satisfied in any Acquisitions whatever, without endeavouring farther; for after its highest Improvements, the Mind hath an Idea of an Infinity of things still behind worth knowing, to the Knowledge of which therefore it cannot be indifferent; as by climbing up a Hill in the midst of a wide Plain, a Man hath his Prospect enlarged, and, together with that, the Bounds of his Desires. Upon this Account, I cannot think he detracts from the State of the Blessed, who conceives them to be perpetually employed in fresh Searches into Nature, and to Eternity advancing into the fathomless Depths of the Divine Perfections. In this Thought there is nothing but what doth Honour to these glorified Spirits; provided still it be remembred, that their Desire of more proceeds not from their disrelishing what they possess; and the Pleasure of a new Enjoyment is not with them measured by its Novelty (which is a thing merely foreign and accidental) but by its real intrinsick Value. After an Acquaintance of many thousand Years with the Works of God, the Beauty and Magnificence of the Creation fills them with the same pleasing Wonder and profound Awe, which Adam felt himself seized with as he first opened his Eyes upon this glorious Scene. Truth captivates with unborrowed Charms, and whatever hath once given Satisfaction will always do it: In all which they have manifestly the Advantage of us, who are so much govern'd by sickly and changeable Appetites, that we can with the greatest Coldness behold the stupendous Displays of Omnipotence, and be in Transports at the puny Essays of humane Skill; throw aside Speculations of the sublimest Nature and vastest Importance into some obscure Corner of the Mind, to make Room for new Notions of no Consequence at all; are even tired of Health, because not enlivened with alternate Pain, and prefer the first Reading of an indifferent Author, to the second or third Perusal of one whose Merit and Reputation are established.

Our being thus formed serves many useful Purposes in the present State. It contributes not a little to the Advancement of Learning; for, as Cicero takes Notice, That which makes Men willing to undergo the Fatigues of Philosophical Disquisitions, is not so much the Greatness of Objects as their Novelty. It is not enough that there is Field and Game for the Chace, and that the Understanding is prompted with a restless Thirst of Knowledge, effectually to rouse the Soul, sunk into the State of Sloth and Indolence; it is also necessary that there be an uncommon Pleasure annexed to the first Appearance of Truth in the Mind. This Pleasure being exquisite for the Time it lasts, but transient, it hereby comes to pass that the Mind grows into an Indifference to its former Notions, and passes on after new Discoveries, in hope of repeating the Delight. It is with Knowledge as with Wealth, the Pleasure of which lies more in making endless Additions, than in taking a Review of our old Store. There are some Inconveniencies that follow this Temper, if not guarded against, particularly this, that through a too great Eagerness of something new we are many times impatient of staying long enough upon a Question that requires some time to resolve it, or, which is worse, perswade our selves that we are Masters of the Subject before we are so, only to be at the Liberty of going upon a fresh Scent; in Mr. Lock's Words, We see a little, presume a great deal, and so jump to the Conclusion.

'A farther Advantage of our Inclination for Novelty, as at present circumstantiated, is, that it annihilates all the boasted Distinctions among Mankind. Look not up with Envy to those above thee. Sounding Titles, stately Buildings, fine Gardens, gilded Chariots, rich Equipages, what are they? They dazzle every one but the Possessor: To him that is accustomed to them they are cheap and regardless Things: They supply him not with brighter Images, or more sublime Satisfactions than the plain Man may have, whose small Estate will just enable him to support the Charge of a simple unencumbered Life. He enters heedless into his Rooms of State, as you or I do under our poor Sheds. The noble Paintings and costly Furniture are lost on him; he sees them not: As how can it be otherwise, when by Custom, a Fabrick infinitely more grand and finish'd, that of the Universe, stands unobserved by the Inhabitants, and the everlasting Lamps of Heaven are lighted up in vain, for any Notice that Mortals take of them? Thanks to indulgent Nature, which not only placed her Children originally upon a Level, but still, by the Strength of this Principle, in a great Measure preserves it, in spite of all the Care of a Man, to introduce artificial Distinctions.

'To add no more, Is not this Fondness for Novelty, which makes us out of Conceit with all we already have, a convincing Proof of a future State? Either Man was made in vain, or this is not the only World he was made for: For there cannot be a greater Instance of Vanity, than that to which Man is liable, to be deluded from the Cradle to the Grave with fleeting Shadows of Happiness. His Pleasures, and those not considerable neither, die in the Possession, and fresh Enjoyments do not rise fast enough to fill up half his Life with Satisfaction. When I see Persons sick of themselves any longer than they are called away by something that is of Force to chain down the present Thought; when I see them hurry from Country to Town, and then from the Town back again into the Country, continually shifting Postures, and placing Life in all the different Lights they can think of; Surely, say I to my self, Life is vain, and the Man beyond Expression stupid or prejudic'd, who from the Vanity of Life cannot gather, He is designed for Immortality.



[Footnote 1: Meditations, &c, by the Hon. Robert Boyle.]



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No. 627. Wednesday, December 1, 1714.



'Tantum inter densas umbrosa cacumine fagos Assidue veniebat; ibi haec incondita solus Montibus et Sylvis studio jactabat inani.'

Virg.



The following Account, which came to my Hands some time ago, may be no disagreeable Entertainment to such of my Readers, as have tender Hearts and nothing to do.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

'A Friend of mine died of a Feaver last Week, which he caught by walking too late in a dewy Evening amongst his Reapers. I must inform you that his greatest Pleasure was in Husbandry and Gardening. He had some Humours which seemed inconsistent with that good Sense he was otherwise Master of. His Uneasiness in the Company of Women was very remarkable in a Man of such perfect Good-breeding, and his avoiding one particular Walk in his Garden, where he had used to pass the greatest Part of his Time, raised abundance of idle Conjectures in the Village where he lived. Upon looking over his Papers we found out the Reason, which he never intimated to his nearest Friends. He was, it seems, a passionate Lover in his Youth, of which a large Parcel of Letters he left behind him are a Witness. I send you a Copy of the last he ever wrote upon that Subject, by which you will find that he concealed the true Name of his Mistress under that of Zelinda.

'A long Month's Absence would be insupportable to me, if the Business I am employed in were not for the Service of my Zelinda, and of such a Nature as to place her every Moment in my Mind. I have furnished the House exactly according to your Fancy, or, if you please, my own; for I have long since learned to like nothing but what you do. The Apartment designed for your Use is so exact a Copy of that which you live in, that I often think my self in your House when I step into it, but sigh when I find it without its proper Inhabitant. You will have the most delicious Prospect from your Closet-window that England affords: I am sure I should think it so, if the Landskip that shows such Variety did not at the same time suggest to me the Greatness of the Space that lies between us.

'The Gardens are laid out very beautifully; I have dressed up every Hedge in Woodbines, sprinkled Bowers and Arbours in every Corner, and made a little Paradise round me; yet I am still like the first Man in his Solitude, but half blest without a Partner in my Happiness. I have directed one Walk to be made for two Persons, where I promise ten thousand Satisfactions to my self in your Conversation. I already take my Evening's Turn in it, and have worn a Path upon the Edge of this little Alley, while I soothed my self with the Thought of your walking by my Side. I have held many imaginary Discourses with you in this Retirement; and when I have been weary have sat down with you in the midst of a Row of Jessamines. The many Expressions of Joy and Rapture I use in these silent Conversations have made me for some Time the Talk of the Parish; but a neighbouring young Fellow, who makes Love to the Farmer's Daughter, hath found me out, and made my Case known to the whole Neighbourhood.

'In planting of the Fruit-Trees I have not forgot the Peach you are so fond of. I have made a Walk of Elms along the River Side, and intend to sow all the Place about it with Cowslips, which I hope you will like as well as that I have heard you talk of by your Father's House in the Country.