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.]

No. 607.                  Friday, October 15, 1714.

  'Dicite Iö Pæan, et Iö bis dicite Pæan:
  Decidit in casses præda 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 prætulit 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 _Cæsar_,
  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_.

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.]

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.]

No. 610                  Friday, October 22, 1714.

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

  Seneca.

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

_Nothing_ (says _Longinus_) _can be Great, the Contempt of which is
Great_. The Possession of Wealth and Riches cannot give a Man a Title to
Greatness, because it is looked upon as a Greatness of Mind, to contemn
these Gifts of Fortune, and to be above the Desire of them. I have
therefore been inclined to think, that there are greater Men who lie
concealed among the Species, than those who come out, and draw upon
themselves the Eyes and Admiration of Mankind. _Virgil_ would never have
been heard of, had not his Domestick Misfortunes driven him out of his
Obscurity, and brought him to _Rome_.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No. 611.                  Monday, October 25, 1714.

  'Perfide! sed duris genuit te cautibus horrens
  Caucasus, Hircanæque admórunt ubera tigres.'

  Virg.

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

  _Mr_. SPECTATOR,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No. 612.                 Wednesday, October 27, 1714.

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

  Virg.

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

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

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

  _Mr._ SPECTATOR,

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

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

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

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

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

[Footnote 1: Lord,]

No. 613.               Friday, October 29, 1714.

  '--Studiis florentem ignobilis oti--'

  Virg.

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

  _Mr._ SPECTATOR,

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

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

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

  _Your profess'd Admirer_,

  Will. Hopeless.

  _Middle-Temple, October_ 26, 1714.

  _SIR_,

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

  _Your most humble Servant_,

  J. B.

  _SIR_,

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

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

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

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

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

  _By the Unfortunate_

  Monimia.

No. 614.                   Monday, November 1, 1712.

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

  Virg.

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

  _Mr_. SPECTATOR,

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

  '_Q._ Whether _Amoret_ be bound by a Promise of Marriage to
  _Philander_, made during her Husband's Life?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The like Custom there is in the Manor of _Torre_ in _Devonshire_, and
other Parts of the _West_.

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

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

No. 615.                 Wednesday, November 3, 1714.

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

  Hor.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Footnote 1: Wisd. xvii. _passim_.]

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

No. 616.                 Friday, November 5, 1714.

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

  Martial.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No. 617.                 Monday, November 8, 1714.

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

  Persius.

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

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

  _Dear Chum_,

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

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

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

    ' 'Twas Night, and Heav'n, a_ Cyclops, _all the Day,
    An Argus now did countless Eyes display;
    In ev'ry Window_ Rome _her Joy declares,
    All bright, and studded with terrestrial Stars.
    A blazing Chain of Lights her Roofs entwines.
    And round her Neck the mingled Lustre shines,
    The_ Cynick's _rowling Tenement conspires,
    With_ Bacchus _his Cast-coat, to feed the Fires.

    The Pile, still big with undiscover'd Shows,
    The_ Tuscan _Pile did last its Freight disclose,
    Where the proud Tops of_ Rome's _new_ Ætna _rise,
    Whence Giants sally, and invade the Skies.

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

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

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

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

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

No. 618.              Wednesday, November 10, 1714.

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

  Hor.

  _Mr_. SPECTATOR,

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

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

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

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

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

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

No. 619.               Friday, November 12, 1714.

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

  Virg.

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

_CHARISSA_, whose Letter is dated from _Cornhill_, desires to be eased
in some Scruples relating to the Skill of Astrologers. _Referred to the
Dumb Man for an Answer._

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

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

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

The Remonstrance of _T. C._ against the Profanation of the Sabbath by
Barbers, Shoe-cleaners, _&c._ had better be offer'd to _the Society of
Reformers_.

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

To the Gentleman of _Oxford_, who desires me to insert a Copy of _Latin_
Verses which were denied a Place in the University Book. Answer.
_Nonumque prematur in annum_.

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

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

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

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

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

At the earnest Desire of _Monimia's_ Lover, who declares himself very
penitent, he is recorded in my Paper by the Name of _The Faithful_
Castalio.

The Petition of _Charles Cocksure_, which the Petitioner styles _very
reasonable--Rejected_.

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

I desire _S. R._ not to repeat the Expression _under the Sun_ so often
in his next Letter.

The Letter of _P. S._ who desires either to have it printed entire, or
committed to the Flames. _Not to be printed entire_.

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

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

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

  Virg.

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

[The ROYAL PROGRESS.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Footnote 1: [artless Muse the]]

[Footnote 2: he burns].

No. 621.                 Wednesday, November 17, 1714.

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

  Lucan.

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

  _Mr_. SPECTATOR,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No. 622.                   Friday, November 19, 1714.

  '--Fallentis Semita Vitæ.'

  Hor.

  _Mr_. SPECTATOR,

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

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

    _MEMOIRS_.

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

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

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

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

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

    "Gave Ten Pounds to poor Mrs.--, my Friend _H--_'s Widow.

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

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

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

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

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

    "Gave away my favourite Dog for biting a Beggar.

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

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

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

    "_Mem_. I have forgiven him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

  Virg.

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

  _Mr_. SPECTATOR,

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

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

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

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

  'Mrs. _Sarah Dainty_, Relict of Mr. _John Dainty_, (who was the
  greatest Prude in the Parish) came next in the Procession. She at
  first made some Difficulty of taking the Tail in her Hand; and was
  observed in pronouncing the Form of Penance, to soften the two most
  emphatical Words into _Clincum Clancum_: But the Steward took care to
  make her speak plain _English_ before he would _let her have her Land
  again_.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  _I am, SIR_, &c.

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

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

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

No. 624.                 Wednesday, November 24, 1714.

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

  Hor.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No. 625.                 Friday, November 26, 1714.

  '--amores
  A tenero meditatur Ungui--'

  Hor.

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

  _SIR_,

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

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

    Answer, No.

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

    No.

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

    No.

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

    No.

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

    No.

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

    No.

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

    No.

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

    No.

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

    No.

The following Letter requires neither Introduction, nor Answer.

  _Mr_. SPECTATOR,

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

  _Yours in haste_,
  Tho. Quid-nunc.

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

  '--Dulcique animos novitate tenebo--'

  Ov. Met. 1. I.

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

  _Mr_. SPECTATOR,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No. 627.                  Wednesday, December 1, 1714.

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

  Virg.

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

  _Mr._ SPECTATOR,

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

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

    'The Gardens are laid out very beautifully; I have dressed up every