I Went on Friday laſt to the Opera, and was ſurpriſed to find a thin Houſe at ſo noble an Entertainment, till I heard that the Tumbler was not to make his Appearance that Night. For my own Part, I was fully ſatisfied with the Sight of an Actor, who, by the Grace and Propriety of his Action and Geſture, does Honour to an hu⯑mane Figure, as much as the other vilifies and degrades it. Every one will eaſily imagine I mean Signior Nicolini, who ſets off the Character he bears in an Opera by his Action, as much as he does the Words of it by his Voice. Every Limb, and every Finger, contributes to the Part [2] he acts, inſomuch that a deaf Man might go a long with him in the Senſe of it. There is ſcarce a beautiful Poſture in an old Statue which he does not plant himſelf in, as the different Cir⯑cumſtances of the Story give Occaſion for it. He performs the moſt ordinary Action in a Manner ſuitable to the Greatneſs of his Character, and ſhows the Prince even in the giving of a Letter, or the diſpatching of a Meſſage. Our beſt Actors are ſomewhat at a Loſs to ſupport themſelves with proper Geſture, as they move from any con⯑ſiderable Diſtance to the Front of the Stage; but I have ſeen the Perſon of whom I am now ſpeak⯑ing, eater alone at the remoteſt Part of it, and advance from it with ſuch Greatneſs of Air and Meen, as ſeemed to fill the Stage, and at the ſame Time commanded the Attention of the Au⯑dience with the Majeſty of his Appearance. But notwithſtanding the Dignity and Elegance of this Entertainment, I find for ſome Nights paſt, that Punchinello has robbed this Gentleman of the greater Part of his Female Spectators. The Truth of it is, I find it ſo very hard a Task to keep that Sex under any Manner of Government, that I have often reſolved to give them over intirely, and leave them to their own Inventions. I was in Hopes that I had brought them to ſome Or⯑der, and was employing my Thoughts on the Reformation of their Petticoats, when on a ſud⯑den I received Information from all Parts, that they run gadding after a Puppet-Show. I know very well, that what I here ſay, will be thought by ſome malicious Perſons to flow from Envy to Mr. Powell; for which Reaſon, I ſhall ſet the late Diſpute between us in a true Light. Mr. Powell and I had ſome Difference about Four Months ago, which we managed by way of Letter, as learned Men ought to do; and I was very well contented to bear ſuch Sarcaſms as he was pleaſed to throw upon me, and anſwered them with the [3] ſame Freedom. In the midſt of this our Miſun⯑derſtanding and Correſpondence, I happened to give the World an Account of the Order of Eſquires; upon which, Mr. Powell was ſo diſinge⯑nuous, as to make one of his Puppets (I wiſh I know which of them it was) declare by way of Prologue, That one Iſaac Bickerſtaff, a Pretended Eſquire, had wrote a ſcurrilous Piece to the Diſ⯑honour of that Rank of Men; and then, with more Art than Honeſty, concluded, that all the Eſquires in the Pit were abuſed by his Antago⯑niſt as much as he was. This publick Accuſa⯑tion made all the Eſquires of that County, and ſeveral of other Parts, my profeſſed Enemies. I do not in the leaſt queſtion, but that he will pro⯑ceed in his Hoſtilities; and I am informed, That Part of his Deſign in coming up to Town, was to carry the War into my own Quarters. I do therefore ſolemnly declare, (notwithſtanding that I am a great Lover of Art and Ingenuity) that if I hear he opens any of his People's Mouths a⯑gainſt me, I ſhall not fail to write a Critick up⯑on his whole Performance; for I muſt confeſs, that I have naturally ſo ſtrong a Deſire of Praiſe, that I cannot bear Reproach, tho' from a Piece of Timber. As for Punch who takes all Opportu⯑nities of beſpattering me, I know very well his Original, and have been aſſured by the Joyner who put him together, that he was in long Diſ⯑pute with himſelf, whether he ſhould turn him into ſeveral Pegs and Utenſils, or make him the Man he is. The ſame Perſon confeſſed to me, that he had once actually laid aſide his Head for a Nut-cracker. As for his Scolding Wife, (how⯑ever ſhe may value her ſelf at preſent) it is very well known, that ſhe is but a Piece of Crabtree. This Artificer further whiſpered in my Ear, that all his Courtiers and Nobles were taken out of a Quickſet-Hedge not far from Iſlington; and that Dr. Fauſtus himſelf, who is now ſo great a Con⯑jurer, [4] is ſuppoſed to have learned his whole Art from an old Woman in that Neighbourhood, whom he long ſerved in the Figure of a Broom⯑ſtaff.

But perhaps it may look trivial to inſiſt ſo much upon Men's Perſons; I ſhall therefore turn my Thoughts rather to examine their Behaviour, and conſider, whether the ſeveral Parts are writ⯑ten up to that Character which Mr. Powell piques himſelf upon, of an able and judicious Drama⯑tiſt. I have for this Purpoſe provided my ſelf with the Works of above Twenty French Criticks, and ſhall examine, (by the Rules which they have laid down upon the Art of the Stage) whe⯑ther the Unity of Time, Place and Action, be rightly obſerved in any one of this celebrated Author's Productions; as alſo, whether in the Parts of his ſeveral Actors, and that of Punch in Particular, there is not ſometimes an Impropriety of Sentiments, and an Impurity of Diction.

I came in here to Day at an Hour when only the Dead appear in Places of Reſort and Gallan⯑try, and ſaw hung up the Eſcutcheon of Sir Han⯑nibal, a Gentleman who uſed to frequent this Place, and was taken up and interred by the Company of Upholders, as having been ſeen here at an unlicenſed Hour. The Coat of the Deceaſed is, Three Bowls and a Jack in a green Field; the Creſt, a Dice-Box, with the King of Clubs and Pam for Supporters. Some Days ago the Body was carried out of Town with great Pomp and Ceremony, in order to be buried with his Anceſtors at the Peak. It is a Maxim in Mo⯑rality, That we are to ſpeak nothing but Truth of the Living, nothing but Good of the Dead. As I have carefully obſerved the firſt during his Life-time, I ſhall acquit my ſelf as to the latter now he is deceaſed.

[5] He was Knighted very young, not in the ordi⯑nary Form, but by the common Conſent of Man⯑kind.

He was in his Perſon between round and ſquare; in the Motion and Geſture of his Body he was unaffected and free, as not having too great a Reſpect for Superiors. He was in his Diſcourſe bold and intrepid; and as every one has an Excellence as well as a Failing which di⯑ſtinguiſhes him from other Men, Eloquence was his predominant Quality, which he had to ſo great a Perfection, that it was eaſier to him to ſpeak than to hold his Tongue. This ſometimes expoſed him to the Deriſion of Men who had much leſs Parts than himſelf: And indeed his great Volubility and inimitable Manner of Speak⯑ing, as well as the great Courage he ſhewed on thoſe Occaſions, did ſometimes betray him into that Figure of Speech which is commonly diſtin⯑guiſh'd by the Name of Gaſconade. To men⯑tion no other, he profeſſed in this very Place ſome few Days before he died, That he would be One of the Six that would undertake to aſ⯑ſault me; for which Reaſon I have had his Figure upon my Wall till the Hour of his Death: And am reſolved for the future to bury every one forthwith who I hear has an Intention to kill me.

Since I am upon the Subject of my Adverſaries, I ſhall here publiſh a ſhort Letter which I have received from a Well-wiſher, and is as follows:

[6] In Anſwer to this, I ſhall act like my Prede⯑ceſſor Aeſop, and give him a Fable inſtead of a Reply.

It happened one Day, as a ſtout and honeſt Maſtiff (that guarded the Village where he lived againſt Thieves and Robbers) was very gravely walking, with one of his Puppies by his Side, all the little Dogs in the Street gather'd about him, and barked at him. The little Puppy was ſo of⯑fended at this Affront done to his Sire, that he asked him, Why he would not fall upon them, and tear them to Pieces? To which the Sire an⯑ſwered, with a great Compoſure of Mind, If there were no Curs, I ſhould be no Maſtiff.

THE Court being prepared for proceeding on the Cauſe of the Petticoat, I gave Orders to bring in a Criminal who was taken up as ſhe went out of the Puppet-Show about Three Nights ago, and was now ſtanding in the Street with a great Concourſe of People about her. Word was brought me, that ſhe had endeavoured twice or thrice to come in, but could not do it by reaſon of her Petticoat, which was too large for the Entrance of my Houſe, tho' I had ordered both the Folding-Doors to be thrown open for its Re⯑ception. Upon this, I deſired the Jury of Ma⯑trons, who ſtood at my Right Hand, to inform themſelves of her Condition, and know whether [7] there were any private Reaſons why ſhe might not make her Appearance ſeparate from her Pet⯑ticoat. This was managed with great Diſcretion, and had ſuch an Effect, that upon the Return of the Verdict from the Bench of Matrons, I iſſued out an Order forthwith; That the Criminal ſhould be ſtripped of her Incumbrances; till ſhe became little enough to enter my Houſe. I had before given Directions for an Engine of ſeveral Legs, that could contract or open it ſelf like the Top of an Umbrello, in order to place the Pet⯑ticoat upon it, by which Means I might take a leiſurely Survey of it, as it ſhould appear in its proper Dimenſions. This was all done accord⯑ingly; and forthwith, upon the cloſing of the Engine, the Petticoat was brought into Court. I then directed the Machine to be ſet upon the Table, and dilated in ſuch a Manner as to ſhow the Garment in its utmoſt Circumference; but my great Hall was too narrow for the Experi⯑ment; for before it was half unfolded, it deſcri⯑bed ſo immoderate a Circle, that the lower Part of it bruſh'd upon my Face as I ſate in my Chair of Judicature. I then enquired for the Perſon that belonged to the Petticoat; and to my great Surprize, was directed to a very beautiful young Damſel, with ſo pretty a Face and Shape, that I bid her come out of the Crowd, and ſeated her upon a little Crock at my Left Hand. My pret⯑ty Maid, ſaid I, do you own your ſelf to have been the Inhabitant of the Garment before us? The Girl I found had good Senſe, and told me with a Smile, That notwithſtanding it was her own Petticoat, ſhe ſhould be very glad to ſee an Example made of it; and that ſhe wore it for no other Reaſon, but that ſhe had a Mind to look as big and burly as other Perſons of her Quality; That ſhe had kept out of it as long as ſhe could, and till ſhe began to appear little in the Eyes of all her Acquaintance; That if ſhe [8] laid it aſide, People would think ſhe was not made like other Women. I always give great Allowances to the Fair Sex upon Account of the Faſhion, and therefore was not diſpleaſed with the Defence of my pretty Criminal. I then or⯑dered the Veſt which ſtood before us to be drawn up by a Pully to the Top of my great Hall, and afterwards to be ſpread open by the Engine it was placed upon, in ſuch a Manner, that it formed a very ſplendid and ample Canopy over our Heads, and covered the whole Court of Ju⯑dicature with a kind of Silken Rotunda, in its Form not unlike the Cupolo of St. Paul's. I enter'd upon the whole Cauſe with great Satis⯑faction as I ſate under the Shadow of it.

The Council for the Petticoat was now called in, and ordered to produce what they had to ſay againſt the popular Cry which was raiſed againſt it. They anſwered the Objections with great Strength and Solidity of Argument, and expatiated in very florid Harangues, which they did not fail to ſet off and furbelow (if I may be allowed the Metaphor) with many Periodical Sentences and Turns of Oratory. The chief Arguments for their Client were taken, firſt, from the great Be⯑nefit that might ariſe to our Woollen Manufactu⯑ry from this Invention, which was calculated as follows: The common Petticoat has not above Four Yards in the Circumference; whereas this over our Heads had more in the Semi-diameter; ſo that by allowing it Twenty four Yards in the Circumference, the Five Millions of Woollen Petticoats, which (according to Sir William Pet⯑ty) ſuppoſing what ought to be ſuppoſed in a well⯑governed State, that all Petticoats are made of that Stuff, would amount to Thirty Millions of thoſe of the ancient Mode. A prodigious Im⯑provement of the Woollen Trade! and what could not fail to fink the Power of France in a few Years.

[9] To introduce the Second Argument, they beg⯑ged Leave to read a Petition of the Rope-Makers, wherein it was repreſented, That the Demand for Cords, and the Price of them, were much riſen ſince this Faſhion came up. At this, all the Company who were preſent lifted up their Eyes into the Vault; and I muſt confeſs, we did diſco⯑ver many Traces of Cordage which were inter⯑woven in the Stiffening of the Drapery.

A Third Argument was founded upon a Peti⯑tion of the Greenland Trade, which likewiſe re⯑preſented the great Conſumption of Whale-bone which would be occaſioned by the preſent Faſhion, and the Benefit which would thereby accrue to that Branch of the Britiſh Trade.

To conclude, they gently touched upon the Weight and Unweildineſs of the Garment, which they inſinuated might be of great Uſe to preſerve the Honour of Families.

Theſe Arguments would have wrought very much upon me, (as I then told the Company in a long and elaborate Diſcourſe) had I not conſide⯑red the great and additional Expence which ſuch Faſhions would bring upon Fathers and Husbands; and therefore by no Means to be thought of till ſome Years after a Peace. I further urged, that it would be a Prejudice to the Ladies themſelves, who could never expect to have any Money in the Pocket, if they laid out ſo much on the Petticoat. To this I added, the great Temptation it might give to Virgins, of acting in Security like mar⯑ried Women, and by that Means give a Check to Matrimony, an Inſtitution always encouraged by wiſe Societies.

At the ſame Time, in Anſwer to the ſeveral Petitions produced on that Side, I ſhewed one ſubſcribed by the Women of ſeveral Perſons of Quality, humbly ſetting forth, That ſince the In⯑troduction of this Mode, their reſpective Ladies had (inſtead of beſtowing on them their Caſt-Gowns) [10] cut them into Shreds, and mixed them with the Cordage and Buckram, to compleat the Stiffening of their Under-Petticoats. For which and ſundry other Reaſons, I pronounced the Pet⯑ticoat a Forfeiture: But to ſhew that I did not make that Judgment for the Sake of filthy Lucre, I ordered it to be folded up, and ſent it as a Pre⯑ſent to a Widow-Gentlewoman, who has five Daughters, deſiring ſhe would make each of them a Petticoat out of it, and ſend me back the Remainder, which I deſign to cut into Stoma⯑chers, Caps, Facings of my Waſtcoat-Sleeves, and other Garnitures ſuitable to my Age and Quality.

I would not be underſtood, that (while I diſcard this monſtrous Invention) I am an Enemy to the proper Ornaments of the Fair Sex. On the con⯑trary, as the Hand of Nature has poured on them ſuch a Profuſion of Charms and Graces, and ſent them into the World more amiable and finiſhed than the reſt of her Works; ſo I would have them beſtow upon themſelves all the additional Beauties that Art can ſupply them with, provided it does not interfere with, diſguiſe, or pervert, thoſe of Nature.

I conſider Woman as a beautiful Romantick Animal, that may be adorned with Furs and Fea⯑thers, Pearls and Diamonds, Ores and Silks. The Lynx ſhall caſt its Skin at her Feet to make her a Tippet; the Peacock, Parrat and Swan, ſhall pay Contributions to her Muff; the Sea ſhall be ſearched for Shells, and the Rocks for Gems; and every Part of Nature furniſh out its Share towards the Embelliſhment of a Creature that is the moſt conſummate Work of it. All this I ſhall indulge them in; but as for the Petti⯑coat I have been ſpeaking of, I neither can, nor will allow it.

WHen I look into the Frame and Conſti⯑tution of my own Mind, there is no Part of it which I obſerve with greater Satiſ⯑faction, than that Tenderneſs and Concern which it bears for the Good and Happineſs of Mankind. My own Circumſtances are indeed ſo narrow and ſcanty, that I ſhould taſt but very little Plea⯑ſure, could I receive it only from thoſe Enjoy⯑ments which are in my own Poſſeſſion; but by this great Tincture of Humanity, which I find in all my Thoughts and Reflections, I am happier than any ſingle Perſon can be, with all the Wealth, Strength, Beauty, and Succeſs, that can be conferred upon a Mortal, if he only reliſhes ſuch a Proportion of theſe Bleſſings as is veſted in himſelf, and is his own private Property. By this Means, every Man that does himſelf any real Service, does me a Kindneſs. I come in for my Share in all the Good that happens to a Man of Merit and Virtue, and partake of many Gifts of Fortune and Power that I was never born to. There is nothing in particular in which I ſo much rejoice, as the Deliverance of good and ge⯑nerous Spirits out of Dangers, Difficulties, and Diſtreſſes. And becauſe the World does not ſup⯑ply Inſtances of this Kind to furniſh out ſufficient Entertainments for ſuch an Humanity and Bene⯑volence of Temper, I have ever delighted in [12] reading the Hiſtory of Ages paſt, which draws together into a narrow Compaſs the great Oc⯑currences and Events that are but thinly ſown in thoſe Tracts of Time which lie within our own-Knowledge and Obſervation. When I ſee the Life of a great Man, who has deſerved well of his Country, after having ſtruggled through all the Oppoſitions of Prejudice and Envy, break⯑ing out with Luſtre, and ſhining forth in all the Splendor of Succeſs, I cloſe my Book, and am an happy Man for a whole Evening.

But ſince in Hiſtory, Events are of a mixed Nature, and often happen alike to the Worthleſs and the Deſerving, inſomuch that we frequently ſee a virtuous Man dying in the Midſt of Diſap⯑pointments and Calamities, and the Vicious end⯑ing their Days in Proſperity and Peace; I love to amuſe my ſelf with the Accounts I meet with in fabulous Hiſtories and Factions: For in this Kind of Writings we have always the Pleaſure of ſeeing Vice puniſhed, and Virtue rewarded. In⯑deed, were we able to view a Man in the whole Circle of his Exiſtence, we ſhould have the Sa⯑tisfaction of ſeeing it cloſe with Happineſs or Miſery, according to its proper Merit: But tho' our View of him is interrupted by Death before the finiſhing of his Adventures, (if I may ſo ſpeak) we may be ſure that the Concluſion and Cataſtrophe is altogether ſuitable to his Beha⯑viour. On the contrary, the whole Being of a Man, conſider'd as an Hero, or a Knight-Er⯑rant, is comprehended within the Limits of a Poem or Romance, and therefore always ends to our Satisfaction; ſo that Inventions of this Kind are like Food and Exerciſe to a good-natured Diſ⯑poſition, which they pleaſe and gratifie at the ſame Time that they nouriſh and ſtrengthen. The greater the Affliction is in which we ſee our Favourites in theſe Relations engaged, the greater is the Pleaſure we take in ſeeing them relieved.

[13] Among the many feigned Hiſtories which I have met with in my Reading, there is none in which the Hero's Perplexity is greater, and the winding out of it more difficult, than that in a French Author whoſe Name I have forgot. It ſo happens, that the Hero's Miſtreſs was the Siſter of his moſt intimate Friend, who for certain Reaſons was given out to be dead, while he was preparing [...]o leave his Country in Queſt of Adventures. The Hero having heard of his Friend's Death, immediately repaired to his Mi⯑ſtreſs, to condole with her, and comfort her. Upon his Arrival in her Garden, he diſcover'd at a Diſtance a Man claſped in her Arms, and em⯑braced with the moſt endearing Tenderneſs. What ſhould he do? It did not conſiſt with the Gentleneſs of a Knight-Errant either to kill his Miſtreſs, or the Man whom ſhe was pleaſed to favour. At the ſame Time, it would have ſpoiled a Romance, ſhould he have laid violent Hands on himſelf. In ſhort, he immediately entered upon his Adventures; and after a long Series of Exploits, found out by Degrees, that the Perſon he ſaw in his Miſtreſs's Arms was her own Bro⯑ther, taking Leave of her before he left his Country, and the Embrace ſhe gave him nothing elſe but the affectionate Farewel of a Siſter: So that he had at once the Two greateſt Satiſ⯑factions that could enter into the Heart of Man, in finding his Friend alive, whom he thought dead; and his Miſtreſs faithful, whom he had believed inconſtant.

There are indeed ſome Diſaſters ſo very fatal, that it is impoſſible for any Accidents to rectifie them. Of this Kind was that of poor Lucretia; and yet we ſee Ovid has found an Expedient even in this Caſe. He deſcribes a Beautiful and Royal Virgin walking on the Sea-ſhore, where ſhe was diſcovered by Neptune, and violated after a long and unſucceſsful Importunity. To miti⯑gate [14] her Sorrow, he offers her whatever ſhe would wiſh for. Never certainly was the Wit of Woman more puzzled in finding out a Strata⯑gem to retrieve her Honour. Had ſhe deſired to be changed into a Stock or Stone, a Beaſt, Fiſh or Fowl, ſhe would have been a Loſer by it: Or had ſhe deſired to have been made a Sea-Nymph, or a Goddeſs, her Immortality would but have perpetuated her Diſgrace. Give me therefore, ſaid ſhe, ſuch a Shape as may make me incapable of ſuffering again the like Calamity, or of being reproached for what I have already ſuffered. To be ſhort, ſhe was turned into a Man, and by that only Means avoided the Danger and Imputation ſhe ſo much dreaded.

I was once my ſelf in Agonies of Grief that are unutterable, and in ſo great a Diſtraction of Mind, that I thought my ſelf even out of the Poſſibility of receiving Comfort. The Occaſion was as fol⯑lows: When I was a Youth in a Part of the Army which was then quartered at Dover, I fell in Love with an agreeable young Woman, of a good Fa⯑mily in thoſe Parts, and had the Satisfaction of ſeeing my Addreſſes kindly received, which occa⯑ſioned the Perplexity I am going to relate.

We were in a calm Evening diverting our ſelves upon the Top of the Cliff with the Proſpect of the Sea, and trifling away the Time in ſuch little Fond⯑neſſes as are moſt ridiculous to People in Buſineſs, and moſt agreeable to thoſe in Love.

In the Midſt of theſe our innocent Endearments, ſhe ſnatched a Paper of Verſes out of my Hand, and ran away with them. I was following her, when on a ſudden the Ground, tho' at a conſide⯑rable Diſtance from the Verge of the Precipice, ſunk under her, and threw her down from ſo pro⯑digious an Height upon ſuch a Range of Rocks, as would have daſhed her into Ten Thouſand Pieces, had her Body been made of Adamant. It is much eaſier for my Reader to imagine my State of Mind [15] upon ſuch an Occaſion, than for me to expreſs it. I ſaid to my ſelf, It is not in the Power of Hea⯑ven to relieve me! When I awaked, equally tranſ⯑ported and aſtoniſhed, to ſee my ſelf drawn out of an Affliction which the very Moment before appeared to me altogether inextricable.

The Impreſſions of Grief and Horrour were ſo lively on this Occaſion, that while they laſted, they made me more miſerable than I was at the real Death of this beloved Perſon, (which happened a few Months after, at a Time when the Match be⯑tween us was concluded) inaſmuch as the imagi⯑nary Death was untimely, and I my ſelf in a Sort an Acceſſary; whereas her real Deceaſe had at leaſt theſe Alleviations, of being natural and in⯑evitable.

The Memory of the Dream I have related ſtill dwells ſo ſtrongly upon me, that I can never read the Deſcription of Dover-Cliff in Shakeſpear's Tragedy of King Lear, without a freſh Senſe of my Eſcape. The Proſpect from that Place is drawn with ſuch proper Incidents, that whoever can read it without growing giddy, muſt have a good Head, or a very bad One.

I Thought to have given over my Proſecution of the Dead for this Seaſon, having by me many other Projects for the Reformation of Man⯑kind; but I have receiv'd ſo many Complaints from ſuch different Hands, that I ſhall diſoblige Multitudes of my Correſpondents, if I do not take Notice of them. Some of the Deceaſed, who I thought had been laid quietly in their Graves, are ſuch Hobgoblins in publick Aſſem⯑blies, that I muſt be forc'd to deal with them as Evander did with his triple-lived Adverſary, who, according to Virgil, was forced to kill him thrice over before he could diſpatch him.

I am likewiſe informed, That ſeveral Wives of my Dead Men have, ſince the Deceaſe of their Husbands, been ſeen in many publick Places without Mourning, or Regard to common De⯑cency.

I am further adviſed, That ſeveral of the De⯑funct, contrary to the Woollen Act, preſume to dreſs themſelves in Lace, Embroidery, Silks, Muſlins, and other Ornaments forbidden to Per⯑ſons in their Condition. Theſe and other the like Informations moving me thereunto, I muſt de⯑ſire, for Diſtinction-Sake, and to conclude this Subject for ever, that when any of theſe Poſthu⯑mous Perſons appear, or are ſpoken of, that their [17] Wives may be call'd Widows; their Houſes, Se⯑pulchres; their Chariots, Hearſes; and their Gar⯑ments, Flannel: On which Condition, they ſhall be allowed all the Conveniences that Dead Men can in Reaſon deſire.

As I was writing this Morning on this Subject, I receiv'd the following Letter:

The foregoing Letter was the more pleaſing to me, becauſe I perceive ſome little Symptoms in [18] it of a Reſuſciation; and having lately ſeen the Predictions of this Author, which are written in a true Proteſtant Spirit of Prophecy, and a par⯑ticular Zeal againſt the French King, I have ſome Thoughts of ſending for him from the Banks of Styx, and reinſtating him in his own Houſe, at the Sign of the Globe in Salisbury-ſtreet. For the Encouragement of him and others, I ſhall offer to their Conſideration a Letter which gives me an Account of the Revival of one of their Bre⯑thren.

When I came Home this Evening, a very tight middle-aged Woman preſented to me the follow⯑ing Petition:

I have examined into the Allegations of this Petition, and find, by ſeveral ancient Pictures of my own Predeceſſors, particularly that of Dame Deborah Bickerſtaff, my Great Grandmother, that the Ruff and Fardingal are made Uſe of as abſo⯑lutely neceſſary to preſerve the Symmetry of the Figure; and Mrs. Pyramid Bickerſtaff, her ſecond Siſter, is recorded in our Family-Book, with ſome Obſervations to her Diſadvantage, as the firſt Fe⯑male of our Houſe that diſcovered, to any be⯑ſides her Nurſe and her Husband, an Inch below her Chin or above her Inſtep. This convinces me [21] of the Reaſonableneſs of Mrs. Prim's Demand; and therefore I ſhall not allow the reviving of any one Part of that ancient Mode, except the Whole is complied with. Mrs. Prim is there⯑fore hereby impowered to carry Home Ruffs to ſuch as ſhe ſhall ſee in the abovementioned Pet⯑ticoats, and require Payment on Demand.

I Have lately applied my ſelf with much Sa⯑tisfaction to the curious Diſcoveries that have been made by the Help of Microſcopes, as they are related by Authors of our own and other Na⯑tions. There is a great deal of Pleaſure in pry⯑ing into this World of Wonders, which Nature has laid out of Sight, and ſeems induſtrious to conceal from us. Philoſophy had ranged over all the viſible Creation, and began to want Objects for her Enquiries, when the preſent Age, by the Invention of Glaſſes, opened a new and inex⯑hauſtible Magazine of Rarities, more wonderful and amazing than any of thoſe which aſtoniſhed our Forefathers. I was Yeſterday amuſing my ſelf with Speculations of this Kind, and re⯑flecting upon Myriads of Animals that ſwim in [22] thoſe little Seas of Juice that are contained in the ſeveral Veſſels of an Humane Body. While my Mind was thus filled with that ſecret Wonder and Delight, I could not but look upon my ſelf as in an Act of Devotion, and am very well pleaſed with the Thought of the great Heathen Anato⯑miſt, who calls his Deſcription of the Parts of an Humane Body, An Hymn to the Supreme Be⯑ing. The Reading of the Day produced in my Imagination an agreeable Morning's Dream, if I may call it ſuch; for I am ſtill in Doubt, whe⯑ther it paſſed in my ſleeping or waking Thoughts. However it was, I fancied that my good Genius ſtood at my Bed's Head, and entertained me with the following Diſcourſe; for upon my Riſing, it dwelt ſo ſtrongly upon me, that I writ down the Subſtance of it, if not the very Words.

If (ſaid he) you can be ſo tranſported with thoſe Productions of Nature which are diſco⯑vered to you by thoſe artificial Eyes that are the Works of Humane Invention, how great will your Surprize be, when you ſhall have it in your Power to model your own Eye as you pleaſe, and adapt it to the Bulk of Objects, which, with all theſe Helps, are by infinite Degrees too minute for your Perception. We who are unbodied Spi⯑rits can ſharpen our Sight to what Degree we think fit, and make the leaſt Work of the Crea⯑tion diſtinct and viſible. This gives us ſuch Idea's as cannot poſſibly enter into your preſent Con⯑ceptions. There is not the leaſt Particle of Mat⯑ter which may not furniſh one of us ſufficient Employment for a whole Eternity. We can ſtill divide it, and ſtill open it, and ſtill diſcover new Wonders of Providence, as we look into the dif⯑ferent Texture of its Parts, and meet with Beds of vegetables, Mineral and Metallick Mixtures, and ſeveral Kinds of Animals that lie hid, and as it were loſt in ſuch an endleſs Fund of Mat⯑ter. I find you are ſurprized at this Diſcourſe; [23] but as your Reaſon tells you there are infinite Parts in the ſmalleſt Portion of Matter, it will likewiſe convince you, that there is as great a Variety of Secrets, and as much Room for Diſ⯑coveries, in a Particle no bigger than the Point of a Pin, as in the Globe of the whole Earth. Your Microſcopes bring to Sight Shoals of living Creatures in a Spoonful of Vinegar; but we who can diſtinguiſh them in their different Magni⯑tudes, ſee among them ſeveral huge Leviathans that terrify the little Fry of Animals about them, and take their Paſtime as in an Ocean, or the great Deep. I could not but ſmile at this Part of his Relation, and told him, I doubted not but he could give me the Hiſtory of ſeveral Inviſible Giants, accompanied with their reſpective Dwarfs, in caſe that any of theſe little Beings are of an humane Shape. You may aſſure your ſelf (ſaid he) that we ſee in theſe little Animals different Natures, Inſtincts and Modes of Life, which cor⯑reſpond to what you obſerve in Creatures of bigger Dimenſions. We deſcry Millions of Spe⯑cies ſubſiſted on a green Leaf, which your Glaſ⯑ſes repreſent only in Crowds and Swarms. What appears to your Eye but as Hair or Down riſing on the Surface of it, we find to be Woods and Forreſts, inhabited by Beaſts of Prey, that are as dreadful in thoſe their little Haunts, as Lyons and Tygers in the Deſerts of Libya. I was much de⯑lighted with his Diſcourſe, and could not forbear telling him, That I ſhould be wonderfully pleaſed to ſee a natural Hiſtory of Imperceptibles, con⯑taining a true Account of ſuch Vegetables and Animals as grow and live out of Sight. Such Diſquiſitions (anſwered he) are very ſuitable to reaſonable Creatures; and you may be ſure, there are many curious Spirits amongſt us who employ themſelves in ſuch Amuſements. For as our Hands, and all our Senſes, may be formed to what Degree of Strength and Delicacy we [24] pleaſe, in the ſame Manner as our Sight, we can make what Experiments we are inclin'd to, how ſmall ſoever the Matter be in which we make them. I have been preſent at the Diſſection of a Mite, and have ſeen the Skeleton of a Flea. I have been ſhown a Forreſt of numberleſs Trees, which has been pick'd out of an Acorn. Your Microſcope can ſhow you in it a compleat Oak in Miniature; and could you ſuit all your Organs as we do, you might pluck an Acorn from this lit⯑tle Oak, which contains another Tree; and ſo proceed from Tree to Tree, as long as you would think fit to continue your Diſquiſitions. It is al⯑moſt impoſſible (added he) to talk of Things ſo remote from common Life, and the ordinary No⯑tions which Mankind receive from blunt and groſs Organs of Senſe, without appearing extra⯑vagant and ridiculous. You have often ſeen a Dog open'd, to obſerve the Circulation of the Blood, or make any other uſeful Enquiry; and yet would be tempted to laugh if I ſhould tell you, that a Circle of much greater Philoſophers than any of the Royal Society, were preſent at the cutting up of one of thoſe little Animals which we find in the Blue of a Plumb: That it was ty'd down alive before them; and that they obſerved the Palpitations of the Heart, the Courſe of the Blood, the Working of the Muſcles, and the Convulſions in the ſeveral Limbs, with great Accuracy and Improvement. I muſt confeſs, ſaid I, for my own Part, I go along with you in all your Diſcoveries with great Pleaſure; but it is certain, they are too fine for the Groſs of Mankind, who are more ſtruck with the De⯑ſcription of every Thing that is great and bulky. Accordingly we find the beſt Judge of humane Nature ſetting forth his Wiſdom, not in the For⯑mation of theſe minute Animals, (tho' indeed no leſs wonderful than the other) but in that of the Leviathan and Behemoth, the Horſe and the [25] Crocodile. Your Obſervation (ſaid he) is very juſt; and I muſt acknowledge for my own Part, that although it is with much Delight that I ſee the Traces of Providence in theſe Inſtances, I ſtill take greater Pleaſure in conſidering the Works of the Creation in their Immenſity, than in their Mi⯑nuteneſs. For this Reaſon, I rejoice when I ſtrengthen my Sight ſo as to make it pierce into the moſt remote Spaces, and take a View of thoſe Heavenly Bodies which lie out of the Reach of Humane Eyes, though aſſiſted by Teleſcopes. What you look upon as one confuſed White in the Milky-Way, appears to me a long Tract of Heavens, diſtinguiſh'd by Stars that are ranged in proper Figures and Conſtellations. While you are admiring the Sky in a Starry Night, I am en⯑tertained with a Variety of Worlds and Suns pla⯑ced one above another, and riſing up to ſuch an immenſe Diſtance, that no created Eye can ſee an End of them.

The latter Part of his Diſcourſe flung me in⯑to ſuch an Aſtoniſhment, that he had been ſilent for ſome Time before I took Notice of it; when on a ſudden I ſtarted up and drew my Curtains, to look if any one was near me, but ſaw no Body, and cannot tell to this Moment whether it was my good Genius or a Dream that left me.

INſtead of conſidering any particular Paſſion o [...] Character in any one Set of Men, my Thought [...] were laſt Night employed on the Contemplatio [...] of Humane Life in general; and truly it appear [...] to me, that the whole Species are hurried on by the ſame Deſires, and engaged in the ſame Pur⯑ſuits, according to the different Stages and Divi⯑ſions of Life. Youth is devoted to Luſt, middl [...] Age to Ambition, old Age to Avarice. Theſ [...] are the Three general Motives and Principles o [...] Action both in good and bad Men; though i [...] muſt be acknowledged, that they change thei [...] Names, and refine their Natures, according t [...] the Temper of the Perſon whom they direct an [...] animate. For with the Good, Luſt becomes Vir⯑tuous Love; Ambition, True Honour; and Ava⯑rice, the Care of Poſterity. This Scheme o [...] Thought amuſed me very agreeably till I retire [...] to Reſt; and afterwards formed it ſelf into [...] pleaſing and regular Viſion, which I ſhall deſcrib [...] in all its Circumſtances, as the Objects preſente [...] themſelves, whether in a ſerious or ridiculou [...] Manner.

I dreamed that I was in a Wood, of ſo prodi⯑gious an Extent, and cut into ſuch a Variety o [...] Walks and Allies, that all Mankind were loſt an [...] bewildered in it. After having wandered up an [...] [27] down ſome Time, I came into the Centre of it, which opened into a wide Plain, that was filled with Multitudes of both Sexes. I here diſcovered Three great Roads, very wide and long, that led into Three different Parts of the Forreſt. On a ſudden, the whole Multitude broke into Three Parts, according to their different Ages, and mar⯑ched in their reſpective Bodies into the Three great Roads that lay before them. As I had a Mind to know how each of theſe Roads termi⯑nated, and whether it would lead thoſe who paſ⯑ſed through them, I joined my ſelf with the Aſ⯑ſembly that were in the Flower and Vigour of their Age, and called themſelves, The Band of Lovers. I found to my great Surpriſe, that ſeve⯑ral old Men beſides my ſelf had intruded into this agreeable Company; as I had before ob⯑ſerved, there were ſome young Men who had united themſelves to the Band of Miſers, and were walking up the Path of Avarice; tho' both made a very ridiculous Figure, and were as much laughed at by thoſe they joined, as by thoſe they forſook. The Walk which we marched up, for Thickneſs of Shades, Embroidery of Flowers, and Melody of Birds, with the diſtant Purling of Streams, and Falls of Water, was ſo wonderfully delightful, that it charmed our Senſes, and in⯑toxicated our Minds with Pleaſure. We had not been long here, before every Man ſingled out ſome Woman to whom he offered his Addreſſes, and profeſſed himſelf a Lover; when on a ſud⯑den we perceived this delicious Walk to grow more narrow as we advanced in it, till it ended in many intricate Thickets, Mazes and Laby⯑rinths, that were ſo mixed with Roſes and Bram⯑bles, Brakes of Thorns, and Beds of Flowers, rocky Paths and pleaſing Grotto's, that it was hard to ſay, whether it gave greater Delight or Perplexity to thoſe who travelled in it.

[28] It was here that the Lovers began to be eager in their Purſuits. Some of their Miſtreſſes, who only ſeemed to retire for the Sake of Form and Decency, led them into Plantations that were diſ⯑poſed into regular Walks; where, after they had wheeled about in ſome Turns and Windings, they ſuffered themſelves to be overtaken, and gave their Hands to thoſe who purſued them. O⯑thers withdrew from their Followers into little Wilderneſſes, where there were ſo many Paths interwoven with each other in ſo much Confuſion and Irregularity, that ſeveral of the Lovers quit⯑ted the Purſuit, or broke their Hearts in the Chace. It was ſometimes very odd to ſee a Man purſuing a fine Woman that was following ano⯑ther, whoſe Eye was fixed upon a Fourth, that had her own Game in View in ſome other Quar⯑ter of the Wilderneſs. I could not but obſerve Two Things in this Place which I thought very particular, That ſeveral Perſons who ſtood only at the End of the Avenues, and caſt a careleſs Eye upon the Nymphs during their whole Flight, often catched them, when thoſe who preſſed them the moſt warmly through all their Turns and Doubles, were wholly unſucceſsful: And that ſome of my own Age, who were at firſt look'd upon with Averſion and Contempt, by being well acquainted with the Wilderneſs, and by dodging their Women in the particular Corners and Allies of it, catched them in their Arms, and took them from thoſe whom they really loved and admired. There was a particular Grove, which was called, The Labyrinth of Coquets; where many were en⯑ticed to the Chaſe, but few returned with Pur⯑chaſe. It was pleaſant enough to ſee a celebra⯑ted Beauty, by ſmiling upon one, caſting a Glance upon another, beckoning to a third, and adapt⯑ing her Charms and Graces to the ſeveral Follies of thoſe that admired her, drawing into the La⯑byrinth a whole Pack of Lovers, that loſt them⯑ſelves [29] in the Maze, and never could find their Way out of it. However, it was ſome Satis⯑faction to me, to ſee many of the Fair Ones who had thus deluded their Followers, and left them among the Intricacies of the Labyrinth, obliged when they came out of it, to ſurrender to the firſt Partner that offer'd himſelf. I now had croſſed over all the difficult and perplexed Paſſages that ſeemed to bound our Walk, when on the other Side of them, I ſaw the ſame great Road running on a little Way, till it was terminated by two beautiful Temples. I ſtood here for ſome Time, and ſaw moſt of the Multitude who had been diſ⯑perſed amongſt the Thickets, coming out Two by Two, and marching up in Parts towards the Tem⯑ples that ſtood before us. The Structure on the Right Hand was (as I afterwards found) conſe⯑crated to Virtuous Love, and could not be entered but by ſuch as received a Ring, or ſome other Token, from a Perſon who was placed as a Guard at the Gate of it. He wore a Garland of Roſes and Myrtles on his Head, and on his Shoul⯑ders a Robe like an Imperial Mantle, white and unſpotted all over, excepting only, that where it was claſped at his Breaſt, there were Two golden Turtle-Doves that buttoned it by their Bills, which were wrought in Rubies. He was called by the Name of Hymen, and was ſeated near the En⯑trance of the Temple, in a delicious Bower, made up of ſeveral Trees, that were embraced by Woodbines, Jeſſamines, and Amaranths, which were as ſo many Emblems of Marriage, and Or⯑naments to the Trunks that ſupported them. As I was ſingle and unaccompanied, I was not per⯑mitted to enter the Temple, and for that Reaſon am a Stranger to all the Myſteries that were per⯑formed in it. I had however the Curioſity to ob⯑ſerve how the ſeveral Couples that entered were diſpoſed of; which was after the following Man⯑ner. There were two great Gates on the Back⯑ſide [30] of the Edifice, at which the whole Crowd was let out. At one of theſe Gates were Two Women, extremely beautiful, tho' in a different Kind, the one having a very careful and compo⯑ſed Air, the other a Sort of Smile and ineffable Sweetneſs in her Countenance. The Name of the firſt was Diſcretion, and of the other Compla⯑cency. All who came out of this Gate, and put themſelves under the Direction of theſe two Si⯑ſters, were immediately conducted by them into Gardens, Groves, and Meadows, which abounded in Delights, and were furniſhed with every Thing that could make them the proper Seats of Happi⯑neſs. The Second Gate of this Temple let out all the Couples that were unhappily married, who came out linked together by Chains, which each of them ſtrove to break, but could not. Several of theſe were ſuch as had never been acquainted with each other before they met in the great Walk, or had been too well acquainted in the Thicket. The Entrance to this Gate was poſſeſ⯑ſed by three Siſters, who joined themſelves with theſe Wretches, and occaſioned moſt of their Mi⯑ſeries. The youngeſt of the Siſters was known by the Name of Levity, who with the Innocence of a Virgin, had the Dreſs and Behaviour of a Harlot. The Name of the Second was Contention, who bore on her Right Arm a Muff made of the Skin of a Porcupine; and on her Left carried a little Lap-Dog, that barked and ſnapped at every one that paſſed by her.

The eldeſt of the Siſters, who ſeemed to have an haughty and imperious Air, was always ac⯑companied with a tawny Cupid, who generally marched before her with a little Mace on his Shoulder, the End of which was faſhioned into the Horns of a Stag. Her Garments were yel⯑low, and her Complexion pale. Her Eyes were piercing, but had odd Caſts in them, and that particular Diſtemper, which makes Perſons who [31] are troubled with it, ſee Objects double. Upon Enquiry, I was informed that her Name was Jealouſy.

Having finiſhed my Obſervations upon this Temple, and its Votaries, I repaired to that which ſtood on the Left Hand, and was called, The Tem⯑ple of Luſt. The Front of it was raiſed on Corin⯑thian Pillars, with all the meretricious Orna⯑ments that accompany that Order; whereas that of the other was compoſed of the chaſt and ma⯑tron-like Ionic. The Sides of it were adorned with ſeveral groteſque Figures of Goats, Spar⯑rows, Heathen Gods, Satyrs, and Monſters made up of half Man half Beaſt. The Gates were un⯑guarded, and open to all that had a Mind to en⯑ter. Upon my going in, I found the Windows were blinded, and let in only a Kind of Twilight, that ſerved to diſcover a prodigious Number of dark Corners and Apartments, into which the whole Temple was divided. I was here ſtunned with a mixed Noiſe of Clamour and Jollity: On one Side of me, I heard Singing and Dancing; on the other, Brawls and Claſhing of Swords. In ſhort, I was ſo little pleaſed with the Place, that I was going out of it; but found I could not return by the Gate where I entered, which was barred againſt all that were come in, with Bolts of Iron, and Locks of Adamant. There was no going back from this Temple through the Paths of Plea⯑ſure which led to it: All who paſſed thro' the Ce⯑remonies of the Place, went out at an Iron Wicket, which was kept by a dreadful Giant called Remorſe, that held a Scourge of Scorpions in his Hand, and drove them into the only Outlet from that Tem⯑ple. This was a Paſſage, ſo rugged, ſo uneven, and choaked with ſo many Thorns and Briars, that it was a melancholy Spectacle to behold the Pains and Difficulties which both Sexes ſuffered who walked through it. The Men, tho' in the Prime of their Youth, appeared weak and infee⯑bled [32] with old Age: The Women rung their Hands, and tore their Hair; and ſeveral loſt their Limbs before they could extricate themſelves out of the Perplexities of the Path in which they were engaged. The remaining Part of this Vi⯑ſion, and the Adventures I met with in the Two great Roads of Ambition and Avarice, muſt be the Subject of another Paper.

I Was recollecting the Remainder of my Viſion, when my Maid came to me, and told me, there was a Gentlewoman below who ſeemed to be in great Trouble, and preſſed very much to ſee me. When it lay in my Power to remove the Diſtreſs of an unhappy Perſon, I thought I ſhould very ill employ my Time in attending Matters of Speculation, and therefore deſired the Lady would walk in. When ſhe entered, I ſaw her Eyes full of Tears. However, her Grief was not ſo great as to make her omit Rules; for ſhe was very long and exact in her Civilities, which gave me Time to view and conſider her. Her Clothes were very rich, but tarniſh'd; and her Words very fine, but illapplied. Theſe Diſtinctions made me with⯑out Heſitation (tho' I had never ſeen her before) ask'd her, If her Lady had any Commands for me? She then began to weep afreſh, and with many broken Sighs told me, That their Family was in very great Affliction—I beſeeched her to com⯑poſe her ſelf, for that I might poſſibly be capable of aſſiſting them—She then caſt her Eye upon my little Dog, and was again tranſported with too much Paſſion to proceed; but with much ado, ſhe at laſt gave me to underſtand, That Cupid, her Lady's Lap-dog, was dangerouſly ill, and in ſo bad a Condition, that her Lady neither ſaw Company, nor went abroad, for which Rea⯑ſon [34] ſhe did not come her ſelf to conſult me; that as I had mentioned with great Affection my own Dog, (here ſhe courtſied, and looking firſt at the Cur, and then on me, ſaid, indeed I had Reaſon, for he was very pretty) her Lady ſent to me ra⯑ther than to any other Doctor, and hoped I would not laugh at her Sorrow, but ſend her my Ad⯑vice. I muſt confeſs, I had ſome Indignation to find my ſelf treated like ſomething below a Far⯑rier; yet well knowing, that the beſt, as well as moſt tender Way, of dealing with a Woman, is to fall in with her Humours, and by that Means to let her ſee the Abſurdity of them. I proceed⯑ed accordingly: Pray, Madam, ſaid I, can you give me any methodical Account of this Illneſs, and how Cupid was firſt taken? Sir (ſaid ſhe) we have a little ignorant Country Girl who is kept to tend him: She was recommended to our Fa⯑mily by one, that my Lady never ſaw but once, at a Viſit; and you know, Perſons of Quality are always inclined to Strangers; for I could have helped her to a Couſin of my own, but—Good Madam (ſaid I) you neglect the Account of the ſick Body, while you are complaining of this Girl. No, no, Sir (ſaid ſhe), begging your Par⯑don: But it is the general Fault of Phyſicians, they are ſo in Haſte, that they never hear out the Caſe. I ſay, this ſilly Girl, after waſhing Cupid, let him ſtand half an Hour in the Window with⯑out his Collar, where he catched cold, and in an Hour after began to bark very hoarſe. He had however a pretty good Night, and we hoped the Danger was over; but for theſe Two Nights laſt paſt, neither he nor my Lady have ſlept a Wink. Has he (ſaid I) taken any Thing? No (ſaid ſhe), but my Lady ſays, he ſhall take any Thing that you preſcribe, provided you do not make Uſe of Jeſuits Powder, or the Cold Bath. Poor Cupid (continued ſhe) has always been Phtiſical, and as he lies under ſomething like a Chin-Cough, we [35] are afraid it will end in a Conſumption. I then asked her, if ſhe had brought any of his Water to ſhow me. Upon this, ſhe ſtared me in the Face, and ſaid, I am afraid, Mr. Bickerſtaff, you are not ſerious; but if you have any Receipt that is proper on this Occaſion, pray let us have it; for my Miſtreſs is not to be comforted. Upon this, I panſed a little without returning any An⯑ſwer, and after ſome ſhort Silence, I proceeded in the following Manner: I have conſidered the Nature of the Diſtemper, and the Conſtitution of the Patient, and by the beſt Obſervation that I can make on both, I think it is ſafeſt to put him into a Courſe of Kitchin Phyſick. In the mean time, to remove his Hoarſeneſs, it will be the moſt natural Way to make Cupid his own Drug⯑giſt; for which Reaſon, I ſhall preſcribe to him, Three Mornings ſucceſſively, as much Powder as will lie on a Groat, of that noble Remedy which the Apothecaries call Album Graecum. Upon hear⯑ing this Advice, the young Woman ſmiled, as if ſhe knew how ridiculous an Errand ſhe had been employed in; and indeed I found by the Sequel of her Diſcourſe, That ſhe was an arch Baggage, and of a Character that is frequent enough in Perſons of her Employment, who are ſo uſed to conform themſelves in every Thing to the Hu⯑mours and Paſſions of their Miſtreſſes, that they ſacrifice Superiority of Senſe to Superiority of Condition, and are inſenſibly betrayed into the Paſſions and Prejudices of thoſe whom they ſerve, without giving themſelves Leave to conſider, that they are extravagant and ridiculous. However I thought it very natural, when her Eyes were thus open, to ſee her give a new Turn to her Diſcourſe, and from ſympathizing with her Mi⯑ſtreſs in her Follies, to fall a Railing at her. You cannot imagine, ſaid ſhe, Mr. Bickerſtaff, what a Life ſhe makes us lead for the Sake of this lit⯑tle ugly Cur: If he dies, we are the moſt unhap⯑py [36] Family in Town. She chanced to loſe a Par⯑rat laſt Year, which, to tell you truly, brought me into her Service; for ſhe turned off her Wo⯑man upon it, who had lived with her Ten Years, becauſe ſhe neglected to give him Water, tho' every one of the Family ſays, ſhe was as innocent of the Bird's Death, as the Babe that is unborn. Nay, ſhe told me this very Morning, That if Cupid ſhould die, ſhe would ſend the poor inno⯑cent Wench I was telling you of, to Bridewell, and have the Milk-Woman tried for her Life at the Old-Baily, for putting Water into his Milk. In ſhort, ſhe talks like any diſtracted Creature.

Since it is ſo, young Woman (ſaid I), I will by no Means let you offend her, by ſtaying on this Meſſage longer than is abſolutely neceſſary, and ſo forced her out.

While I am ſtudying to cure thoſe Evils and Diſtreſſes that are neceſſary or natural to Humane Life, I find my Task growing upon me, ſince by theſe accidental Cares, and acquired Calamities, (if I may ſo call them) my Patients contract Di⯑ſtempers to which their Conſtitution is of it ſelf a Stranger. But this is an Evil I have for many Years remarked in the Fair Sex; and as they are by Nature very much formed for Affection and Dal⯑liance, I have obſerved, That when by too obſtinate a Cruelty, or any other Means, they have diſap⯑pointed themſelves of the proper Objects of Love, as Husbands, or Children, ſuch Virgins have ex⯑actly at ſuch a Year grown fond of Lap-dogs, Parrats, or other Animals. I know at this Time a celebrated Toaſt, whom I allow to be one of the moſt agreeable of her Sex, that in the Pre⯑ſence of her Admirers, will give a Torrent of Kiſſes to her Cat, any one of which a Chriſtian would be glad of. I do not at the ſame Time deny, but there are as great Enormities of this Kind committed by our Sex as theirs. A Roman Emperor had ſo very great an Eſteem for an Horſe [37] of his, that he had Thoughts of making him a Conſul; and ſeveral Moderns of that Rank of Men whom we call Country Squires, won't ſcru⯑ple to kiſs their Hounds before all the World, and declare in the Preſence of their Wives, that they had rather ſalute a Favourite of the Pack, than the fineſt Woman in England. Theſe vo⯑luntary Friendſhips between Animals of different Species, ſeem to ariſe from Inſtinct; for which Reaſon, I have always looked upon the mutual good Will between the 'Squire and the Hound, to be of the ſame Nature with that between the Lion and the Jackall.

The only Extravagance of this Kind which ap⯑pears to me excuſable, is one that grew out of an Exceſs of Gratitude, which I have ſomewhere met with in the Life of a Turkiſh Emperor. His Horſe had brought him ſafe out of a Field of Battle, and from the Purſuit of a victorious Ene⯑my. As a Reward for ſuch his good and faithful Service, his Maſter built him a Stable of Marble, ſhod him with Gold, fed him in an Ivory Man⯑ger, and made him a Rack of Silver. He an⯑nex'd to the Stable ſeveral Fields and Meadows, Lakes, and running Streams. At the ſame time he provided for him a Seraglio of Mares, the moſt beautiful that could be found in the whole Ottoman Empire. To theſe were added a ſuita⯑ble Train of Domeſticks, conſiſting of Grooms, Farriers, Rubbers, &c. accommodated with pro⯑per Liveries and Penſions. In ſhort, nothing was omitted that could contribute to the Eaſe and Happineſs of his Life who had preſerved the Em⯑peror's.

I Find it is thought neceſſary, that I (who have taken upon me to cenſure the Irregularities of the Age) ſhould give an Account of my own Actions when they appear doubtful, or ſubject to Miſconſtruction. My appearing at the Play on Monday laſt, is looked upon as a Step in my Con⯑duct, which I ought to explain, that others may not be miſled by my Example. It is true in Mat⯑ter of Fact, I was preſent at the ingenious Enter⯑tainment of that Day, and placed my ſelf in a Box which was prepared for me with great Civi⯑lity and Diſtinction. It is ſaid of Virgil, when he entered a Roman Theatre, where there were many Thouſands of Spectators preſent, That the whole Aſſembly roſe up to do him Honour; a Reſpect which was never before paid to any but the Emperor. I muſt confeſs, That univerſal Clap, and other Teſtimonies of Applauſe, with which I was received at my firſt Appearance in the Theatre of Great Britain, gave me as ſenſible a Delight, as the above-mentioned Reception could give to that Immortal Poet. I ſhould be ungrateful at the ſame Time, if I did not take this Opportunity of acknowledging the great Ci⯑vilities that were ſhown me by Mr. Thomas Dog⯑get, who made his Compliments to me between the Acts, after a moſt ingenuous and diſcreet Manner; and at the ſame Time communicated to me, that the Company of Upholders deſired to receive me at their Door at the End of the Har⯑market, [39] and to light me home to my Lodgings. That Part of the Ceremony I forbad, and took particular Care during the whole Play to obſerve the Conduct of the Drama, and give no Offence by my own Behaviour. Here I think it will not be foreign to my Character, to lay down the pro⯑per duties of an Audience, and what is incum⯑bent upon each individual Spectator in publick Diverſions of this Nature. Every one ſhould on theſe Occaſions ſhow his Attention, Underſtand⯑ing and Virtue. I would undertake to find out all the Perſons of Senſe and Breeding by the Ef⯑fect of a ſingle Sentence, and to diſtinguiſh a Gen⯑tleman as much by his Laugh, as his Bow. When we ſee the Footman and his Lord diverted by the ſame Jeſt, it very much turns to the Dimi⯑nution of the one, or the Honour of the other. But tho' a Man's Quality may appear in his Un⯑derſtanding and Taſt, the Regard to Virtue ought to be the ſame in all Ranks and Conditions of Men, however they make a Profeſſion of it un⯑der the Name of Honour, Religion, or Morali⯑ty. When therefore we ſee any Thing divert an Audience, either in Traged or Comedy, that ſtrikes at the Duties of Civil Life, or expoſes what the beſt Men in all Ages have looked up⯑on as ſacred and inviolable, it is the certain Sign of a proſligate Race of Men, who are fallen from the Virtue of their Forefathers, and will be contemptible in the Eyes of their Poſterity. For this Reaſon I took great Delight in ſeeing the generous and diſintereſted Paſſion of the Lovers in this Comedy (which ſtood ſo many Trials, and was proved by ſuch a Variety of diverting Incidents) received with an univerſal Approba⯑tion. This brings to my Mind a Paſſage in Ci⯑cero, which I could never read without being in Love with the Virtue of a Roman Audience. He there deſcribes the Shouts and Applauſes which the People gave to the Perſons who acted the [40] Parts of Pilades and Oreſtes, in the nobleſt Oc⯑eaſion that a Poet could invent to ſhow Friend⯑ſhip in Perfection. One of them had forfeited his Life by an Action which he had committed; and as they ſtood in Judgment before the Ty⯑rant, each of them ſtrove who ſhould be the Criminal, that he might ſave the Life of his Friend. Amidſt the Vehemence of each aſſerting himſelf to be the Offender, the Roman Au⯑dience gave a Thunder of Applauſe, and by that Means, as the Author hints, approved in others what they would have done themſelves on the like Occaſion. Methinks, a People of ſo much Virtue were deſervedly placed at the Head of Mankind: But alas! Pleaſures of this Nature are not frequently to be met with on the Engliſh Stage.

The Athenians, at a Time when they were the moſt polite, as well as the moſt powerful, Go⯑vernment in the World, made the Care of the Stage one of the chief Parts of the Adminiſtra⯑tion: And I muſt confeſs, I am aſtoniſhed at the Spirit of Virtue which appeared in that Peo⯑ple upon ſome Expreſſions in a Scene of a fa⯑mous Tragedy; an Account of which we have in one of Seneca's Epiſtles. A coverous Perſon is repreſented ſpeaking the common Sentiments of all who are poſſeſſed with that Vice in the following Soliloquy, which I have tranſlated literally.

The Audience were very much provoked by the firſt Words of this Speech; but when the Actor came to the Cloſe of it, they could bear no longer. In ſhort, the whole Aſſembly roſe up at once in the greateſt Fury, with a Deſign to pluck him off the Stage, and brand the Work it ſelf with Infamy. In the Midſt of the Tumult, the Author came out from behind the Scenes, begging the Audience to be compoſed for a little while, and they ſhould ſee the Tragical End which this Wretch ſhould come to immediately. The Promiſe of Puniſhment appeaſed the People, who ſat with great Attention and Pleaſure to ſee an Example made of ſo odious a Criminal. It is with shame and Concern that I ſpeak it; but I very much queſtion, whether it is poſſible to make a Speech ſo impious, as to raiſe ſuch a lau⯑dable Horror and Indignation in a Modern Au⯑dience. It is very natural for an Author to make Oſtentation of his Reading, as it is for an old Man to tell Stories; for which Reaſon I muſt beg the Reader will excuſe me, if I for once in⯑dulge my ſelf in both theſe Inclinations. We ſee the Attention, Judgment and Virtue of a whole Audience, in the foregoing Inſtances. If we would imitate the Behaviour of a ſingle Specta⯑tor, let us reflect upon that of Socrates, in a Par⯑ticular which gives me as great an Idea of that extraordinary Man, as any Circumſtance of his Life; or what is more, of his Death. This ve⯑nerable Perſon often frequented the Theatre, which brought a great many thither, out of a Deſire to ſee him. On which Occaſion it is re⯑corded of him, That he ſometimes ſtood to make himſelf the more conſpicuous, and to ſatis⯑fy the Curioſity of the Beholders. He was one Day preſent at the firſt Repreſentation of a Tra⯑gedy [42] of Euripides, who was his intimate Friend, and whom he is ſaid to have aſſiſted in ſeveral of his Plays. In the Midſt of the Tragedy, which had met with very great Succeſs, there chanc'd to be a Line that ſeemed to encourage Vice and Immorality.

This was no ſooner ſpoken, but Socrates roſe from his Seat, and without any Regard to his Affection for his Friend, or to the Succeſs of the Play, ſhowed himſelf diſpleaſed at what was ſaid, and walked out of the Aſſembly. I que⯑ſtion not but the Reader will be curious to know what the Line was that gave this Divine Hea⯑then ſo much Offence. If my Memory fails me not, it was in the Part of Hippolitus, who when he is preſſed by an Oath, which he had taken to keep Silence, returned for Anſwer, That he had taken the Oath with his Tongue, but not with his Heart. Had a Perſon of a vicious Character made ſuch a Speech, it might have been allowed as a proper Repreſentation of the Baſeneſs of his Thoughts: But ſuch an Expreſ⯑ſion out of the Mouth of the virtuous Hippolitus, was giving a Sanction to Falſhood, and eſtabliſh⯑ing Perjury by a Maxim.

Having got over all Interruptions, I have ſet apart to Morrow for the cloſing of my Viſion.

A Continuation of the Viſion.

WITH much Labour and Difficulty I paſ⯑ſed through the firſt Part of my Viſion, and recovered the Centre of the Wood, from whence I had the Proſpect of the Three great Roads. I here joined my ſelf to the middle-aged Party of Mankind, who marched behind the Standard of Ambition. The great Road lay in a direct Line, and was terminated by the Temple of Virtue. It was planted on each Side with Lawrels, which were intermixed with Marble Trophies, Carved Pillars, and Statues of Law⯑givers, Heroes, Stateſmen, Philoſophers, and Poets. The Perſons who travelled up this great Path, were ſuch whoſe Thoughts were bent upon doing eminent Services to Mankind, or promoting the Good of their Country. On each Side of this great Road were ſeveral Paths, that were alſo laid out in ſtraight Lines, and ran parallel with it. Theſe were moſt of them covered Walks, and received into them Men of retired Virtue, who propoſed to themſelves the ſame End of their Journey, tho' they choſe to make it in Shade and Obſcurity. The Edifices at the Extremity of the Walk were ſo contrived, that we could not ſee the Temple of Honour by reaſon of the Temple of Virtue, which ſtood before it. [44] At the Gates of this Temple we were met b [...] the Goddeſs of it, who conducted us into tha [...] of Honour, which was joined to the other Edi⯑fice by a beautiful Triumphal Arch, and had no other Entrance into it. When the Deity of the Inner Structure had received us, ſhe preſented us in a Body to a Figure that was placed over the high Altar, and was the Emblem of Eternity. She ſat on a Globe in the midſt of a Golden Zodiac, holding the Figure of a Sun in one Hand, and a Moon in the other. Her Head was veiled, and her Feet covered. Our Hearts glowed within us as we ſtood amidſt the Sphere of Light which this Image caſt on every Side of it.

Having ſeen all that happen'd to this Band of Adventurers, I repaired to another Pile of Build⯑ing that ſtood within View of the Temple of Honour, and was raiſed in Imitation of it, upon the very ſame Model; but at my Approach to it, I found, that the Stones were laid together without Mortar, and that the whole Fabrick ſtood upon ſo weak a Foundation, that it ſhook with every Wind that blew. This was called the Temple of Vanity. The Goddeſs of it ſat in the midſt of a great many Tapers, that burned Day and Night, and made her appear much bet⯑ter than ſhe would have done in open Day-light. Her whole Art, was to ſhow her ſelf more beau⯑tiful and majeſtick than ſhe really was. For which Reaſon, ſhe had painted her Face, and wore a Cluſter of falſe Jewels upon her Breaſt: But what I more particularly obſerved, was, the Breadth of her Petticoat, which was made alto⯑gether in the Faſhion of a modern Fardingal. This Place was filled with Hypocrites, Pedants, Free-Thinkers, and prating Politicians; with a Rabble of thoſe who have only Titles to make them great Men. Female Votaries crowded the Temple, choak'd up the Avenues of it, and [45] were more in Number than the Sand upon the Sea-ſhore. I made it my Buſineſs in my Return towards that Part of the Wood from whence I firſt ſet out, to obſerve the Walks which led to this Temple; for I met in it ſeveral who had be⯑gun their Journey with the Band of virtuous Perſons, and travelled ſome Time in their Com⯑pany: But upon Examination I found, that there were ſeveral Paths which led out of the great Road into the Sides of the Wood, and ran into ſo many crooked Turns and Windings, that thoſe who travelled thro' them often turned their Backs upon the Temple of Virtue, then croſſed the ſtraight Road, and ſometimes marched in it for a little Space, till the crooked Path which they were engaged in again led them into the Wood. The ſeveral Alleys of theſe Wanderers had their particular Ornaments: One of them I could not but take Notice of, in the Walk of the miſchie⯑vous Pretenders to Politicks, which had at every Turn the Figure of a Perſon, whom by the Inſcription I found to be Machiavel, pointing out the Way with an extended Finger like a Mercury.

I was now returned in the ſame Manner as be⯑fore, with a Deſign to obſerve carefully every Thing that paſſed in the Region of Avarice, and the Occurrences in that Aſſembly, which was made up of Perſons of my own Age. This Body of Travellers had not gone far in the Third great Road, before it led them inſenſibly into a deep Valley, in which they journied ſeveral Days with great Toil and Uneaſineſs, and with⯑out the neceſſary Refreſhments of Food and Sleep. The only Relief they met with, was in a River that ran through the Bottom of the Valley on a Bed of Golden Sand: They often drank of this Stream, which had ſuch a particular Quality in it, that tho' it refreſhed them for a Time, it [46] rather inflamed than quenched their Thirſt. On each Side of the River was a Range of Hills full of precious Ore; for where the Rains had waſh'd off the Earth, one might ſee in ſeveral Parts of them long Viens of Gold, and Rocks that looked like pure Silver. We were told, That the Deity of the Place had forbad any of his Votaries to dig into the Bowels of theſe Hills, or convert the Treaſures they contained to any Uſe, under Pain of Starving. At the End of the Valley ſtood The Temple of Avarice, made after the Manner of a Fortification, and ſurrounded with a thou⯑ſand tripple-headed Dogs, that were placed there to keep off Beggars. At our Approach they all fell a Barking, and would have very much ter⯑rified us, had not an old Woman who had called her ſelf by the forged Name of Competency of⯑fered her ſelf for our Guide. She carrried under her Garment a Golden Bow, which ſhe no ſoon⯑er held up in her Hand, but the Dogs lay down, and the Gates flew open for our Reception. We were led through an Hundred Iron Doors, before we entered the Temple. At the upper End of it ſat the God of Avarice, with a long filthy Beard, and a meagre ſtarved Countenance, encloſed with Heaps of Ingots, and Pyramids of Money, but half naked and ſhivering with Cold. On his Right Hand was a Fiend called Rapine, and on his Left a particular Favourite to whom he had given the Title of Parſimony. The Firſt was his Collector, and the other his Caſhier.

There were ſeveral long Tables placed on each Side of the Temple, with reſpective Officers at⯑tending behind them. Some of theſe I enquired into. At the firſt Table was kept the Office of Corruption. Seeing a Solicitor extremely buſy, and whiſpering every Body that paſſed by, I kept my Eye upon him very attentively, and ſaw him often going up to a Perſon that had a Pen in his Hand, with a Multiplication Table and an Al⯑manack [47] before him, which as I afterwards heard, was all the Learning he was Maſter of. The Soli⯑citor would often apply himſelf to his Ear, and at the ſame Time convey Money into his Hand, for which the other would give him out a Piece of Paper or Parchment, ſigned and ſealed in Form. The Name of this dextrous and ſucceſsful Soli⯑citor was Bribery. At the next Table was the Office of Extortion. Behind it ſate a Perſon in a Bob-Wig, counting over a great Sum of Money. He gave out little Purſes to ſeveral, who after a ſhort Tour brought him, in Return, Sacks full of the ſame Kind of Coin. I ſaw at the ſame Time a Perſon called Fraud, who ſate behind a Counter with falſe Scales, light Weights, and ſcanty Meaſures; by the skilful Application of which Inſtruments, ſhe had got together an im⯑menſe Heap of Wealth. It would be endleſs to name the ſeveral Officers, or deſcribe the Vora⯑ries that attended in this Temple. There were many old Men panting and breathleſs, repoſing their Heads on Bags of Money; nay many of them actually dying, whoſe very Pangs and Con⯑vulſions (which rendered their Purſes uſeleſs to them) only made them graſp 'em the faſter. There were ſome tearing with one Hand all Things, even to the Garments and Fleſh of ma⯑ny miſerable Perſons who ſtood before them, and with the other Hand, throwing away what they had ſeized, to Harlots, Flatterers, and Pan⯑ders, that ſtood behind them.

On a ſudden the whole Aſſembly fell a trem⯑bling, and upon Enquiry, I found, that the great Room we were in was haunted with a Spectre, that many Times a Day appeared to them, and terrified them to Diſtraction.

In the midſt of their Terror and Amazement, the Apparition entered, which I immediate⯑ly knew to be Poverty. Whether it were by my Acquaintance with this Phantom, which [48] had render'd the Sight of her more familiar to me, or however it was, ſhe did not make ſo indi⯑gent or frightful a Figure in my Eye as the God of this loathſome Temple. The miſerable Vota⯑ries of this Place were, I found, of another Mind. Every one fancied himſelf threatned by the Apparition as ſhe ſtalked about the Room, and began to lock their Coffers, and tie their Bags, with the utmoſt Fear and Trembling.

I muſt confeſs, I look upon the Paſſion which I ſaw in this unhappy People to be of the ſame Nature with thoſe unaccountable Antipathies which ſome Perſons are born with, or rather as a kind of Phrenſy, not unlike that which throws a Man into Terrors and Agonies at the Sight of ſo uſeful and innocent a Thing as Water. The whole Aſſembly was ſurpriſed, when, inſtead of paying my Devotions to the Deity whom they all adored, they ſaw me addreſs my ſelf to the Phantom.

I Went on Saturday laſt to make a Viſit in the City; and as I paſſed through Cheapſide, I ſaw Crowds of People turning down towards the Bank, and ſtruggling who ſhould firſt get their Money into the new-erected Lottery. It gave me a great Notion of the Credit of our preſent Go⯑vernment and Adminiſtration, to find People preſs as eagerly to pay Money, as they would to re⯑ceive it; and at the ſame Time a due Reſpect for that Body of Men who have found out ſo plea⯑ſing an Expedient for carrying on the Common Cauſe, that they have turned a Tax into a Diver⯑ſion. The Chearfulneſs of Spirit, and the Hopes of Succeſs, which this Project has occaſioned in this great City, lightens the Burden of the War, and puts me in Mind of ſome Games which they ſay were invented by wiſe Men who were Lovers of their Country, to make their Fellow-Citizens undergo the Tediouſneſs and Fatigues of a long Siege. I think there is a Kind of Homage due to Fortune, (if I may call it ſo) and that I ſhould be wanting to my ſelf if I did not lay in my Pre⯑tences to her Favour, and pay my Compliments to her by Recommending a Ticket to her Diſpo⯑ſal. For this Reaſon, upon my Return to my Lodgings, I ſold off a Couple of Globes and a Teleſcope, which, with the Caſh I had by me, [50] raiſed the Sum that was requiſite for that Purpoſe. I find by my Calculations, that it is but an Hun⯑dred and Fifty Thouſand to One againſt my be⯑ing worth a Thouſand Pounds per Annum for Thirty two Years; and if any Plumb in the City will lay me an Hundred and Fifty Thouſand Pounds to Twenty Shillings (which is an even Bett) that I am not this fortunate Man, I will take the Wager, and ſhall look upon him as a Man of ſingular Courage and Fair-dealing, having given Orders to Mr. Morphew to ſubſcribe ſuch a Policy in my Behalf, if any Perſon accepts of the Offer. I muſt confeſs, I have had ſuch private Intimations from the Twinkling of a certain Star in ſome of my Aſtronomical Obſervations, that I ſhould be unwilling to take Fifty Pounds a Year for my Chance, unleſs it were to oblige a parti⯑cular Friend. My chief Buſineſs at preſent is, to prepare my Mind for this Change of Fortune: For as Seneca, who was a greater Moraliſt, and a much richer Man than I ſhall be with this Addi⯑tion to my preſent Income, ſays, Munera iſta For⯑tune putatis? Inſidiae ſunt. What we look upon as Gifts and Preſents of Fortune, are Traps and Snares which ſhe lays for the Unwary. I am arming my ſelf againſt her Favours with all my Philoſophy; and that I may not loſe my ſelf in ſuch a Re⯑dundance of unneceſſary and ſuperfluous Wealth [...] I have determined to ſettle an Annual Penſion ou [...] of it upon a Family of Palatines, and by tha [...] Means give theſe unhappy Strangers a Taſt o [...] Britiſh Property. At the ſame Time, as I hav [...] an excellent Servant Maid, whoſe Diligence i [...] attending me has increaſed in Proportion to my Infirmities, I ſhall ſettle upon her the Revenu [...] ariſing out of the Ten Pounds, and amounting t [...] Fourteen Shillings per Annum, with which ſh [...] may retire into Wales, where ſhe was born a Gen⯑tlewoman, and paſs the remaining Part of he [...] [...]ays in a Condition ſuitable to her Birth an [...] [51] Quality. It was impoſſible for me to make an Inſpection into my own Fortune on this Occaſion, without ſeeing at the ſame Time the Fate of o⯑thers who are embarked in the ſame Adventure. And indeed it was a great Pleaſure to me to ob⯑ſerve, That the War, which generally impove⯑riſhes thoſe who furniſh out the Expence of it, will by this Means give Eſtates to ſome, without making others the poorer for it. I have lately ſeen ſeveral in Liveries, who will give as good of their own very ſuddenly; and took a particular Satisfaction in the Sight of a young Country Wench, whom I this Morning paſſed by as ſhe was whirling her Mop, with her Petticoats tucked up very agreeably, who, if there is any Truth in my Art, is within Ten Months of being the hand⯑ſomeſt great Fortune in Town. I muſt confeſs, I was ſo ſtruck with the Foreſight of what ſhe is to be, that I treated her accordingly, and ſaid to her, Pray, young Lady, permit me to paſs by. I would for this Reaſon adviſe all Maſters and Miſtreſſes to carry it with great Moderation and Condeſcention towards their Servants till next Michaelmas, leſt the Superiority at that Time ſhould be inverted. I muſt likewiſe admoniſh all my Brethren and Fellow-Adventurers, to fill their Minds with proper Arguments for their Support and Conſolation in caſe of ill Succeſs. It ſo hap⯑pens in this Particular, that though the Gainers will have Reaſon to rejoice, the Loſers will have no Reaſon to complain. I remember, the Day after the Thouſand Pound Prize was drawn in the Penny Lottery, I went to viſit a ſplenatick Ac⯑quaintance of mine, who was under much De⯑jection, and ſeemed to me to have ſuffered ſome great Diſappointment. Upon Enquiry, I found he had put Two-pence for himſelf and his Son into the Lottery, and that neither of them had drawn the Thouſand Pound. Hereupon this un⯑lucky Perſon took Occaſion to enumerate the [52] Misfortunes of his Life, and concluded with tel⯑ling me, That he never was ſucceſsful in any of his Undertakings. I was forced to comfort him with the common Reflection upon ſuch Occaſions, That Men of the greateſt Merit are not always Men of the greateſt Succeſs, and that Perſons of his Character muſt not expect to be as happy as Fools. I ſhall proceed in the like Manner with my Rivals and Competitors for the Thouſand Pounds a Year which we are now in Purſuit of; and that I may give general Content to the whole Body of Candidates, I ſhall allow all that draw Prizes to be fortunate, and all that miſs them to be wiſe.

I muſt not here omit to acknowledge, that I have received ſeveral Letters upon this Subject, but find one common Error running through them all, which is, That the Writers of them be⯑lieve their Fate in theſe Caſes depends upon the Aſtrologer, and not upon the Stars, as in the fol⯑lowing Letter from one, who, I fear, flatters him⯑ſelf with Hopes of Succeſs, which are altogether groundleſs, ſince he does not ſeem to me ſo great a Fool as he takes himſelf to be.

I cannot forbear publiſhing another Letter which I have received, becauſe it redounds to my own Credit, as well as to that of a very honeſt Footman.

THere is a Sect of ancient Philoſophers, who, I think, have left more Volumes behind them, and thoſe better written, than any other of the Fraternities in Philoſophy. It was a Maxim of this Sect, That all thoſe who do not live up to the Principles of Reaſon and Virtue, are Madmen. Every one, who governs himſelf by theſe Rules, is allowed the Title of Wiſe, and reputed to be in his Senſes; and every one in Proportion, as he deviates from them, is pronounced Frantick and Diſtracted. Cicero having choſen this Maxim for his Theme, takes Occaſion to argue from it very agreeably with Clodius, his implacable Adverſary, who had procured his Baniſhment. A City (ſays he) is an Aſſembly diſtinguiſhed into Bodies of Men, who are in Poſſeſſion of their reſpective Rights and Privileges, caſt under proper Subor⯑dinations, and in all its Parts obedient to the Rules of Law and Equity. He then repreſents the Government from whence he was baniſhed, at a Time when the Conſul, Senate, and Laws, had loſt their Authority, as a Commonwealth of Lu⯑naricks. For this Reaſon, he regards his Expul⯑ſion from Rome, as a Man would being turned out of Bedlam, if the Inhabitants of it ſhould drive [55] him out of their Walls as a Perſon unfit for their Community. We are therefore to look upon every Man's Brain to be touched, however he may appear in the general Conduct of his Life, if he has an unjuſtifiable Singularity in any Part of his Converſation or Behaviour: Or if he ſwerves from right Reaſon, however common his Kind of Madneſs may be, we ſhall not excuſe him for its being epidemical, it being our preſent Deſign to clap up all ſuch as have the Marks of Madneſs upon them, who are now permitted to go about the Streets, for no other Reaſon, but becauſe they do no Miſchief in their Fits. Abundance of ima⯑ginary great Men are put in Straw to bring them to a right Senſe of themſelves: And is it not al⯑together as reaſonable, that an inſignificant Man, who has an immoderate Opinion of his Merits, and a quite different Notion of his own Abilities from what the reſt of the World entertain, ſhould have the ſame Care taken of him, as a Beggar who fancies himſelf a Duke or a Prince? Or, Why ſhould a Man, who ſtarves in the Midſt of Plenty, be truſted with himſelf, more than he who fancies he is an Emperor in the Midſt of Poverty? I have ſeveral Women of Quality in my Thoughts, who ſet ſo exorbitant a Value upon themſelves, that I have often moſt heartily pitied them, and wiſhed them, for their Recovery, under the ſame Diſcipline with the Pewterer's Wife. I find by ſeveral Hints in ancient Authors, that when the Romans were in the Height of Power and Luxu⯑ry, they aſſigned out of their vaſt Dominions an Iſland called Anticyra, as an Habitation for Mad⯑men. This was the Bedlam of the Roman Em⯑pire, whither all Perſons who had loſt their Wits uſed to reſort from all Parts of the World in Queſt of them. Several of the Roman Emperors were adviſed to repair to this Iſland; but moſt of them, inſtead of liſtening to ſuch ſober Counſels, gave Way to their Diſtraction, till the People [56] knocked them in the Head as deſpairing of their Cure. In ſhort, it was as uſual for Men of diſtem⯑pered Brains to take a Voyage to Anticyra in thoſe Days, as it is in ours for Perſons who have a Diſ⯑order in their Lungs to go to Montpellier.

The prodigious Crops of Hellebore with which this whole Iſland abounded, did not only furniſh them with incomparable Tea, Snuff, and Hungary Water, but impregnated the Air of the Country with ſuch ſober and ſalutiferous Steams, as very much comforted the Heads, and refreſhed the Sen⯑ſes, of all that breathed in it. A diſcarded Stateſ⯑man, that at his firſt Landing appeared ſtark ſta⯑ring mad, would become calm in a Week's Time; and upon his Return Home, live eaſy and ſatisfied in his Retirement. A moaping Lover would grow a pleaſant Fellow by that Time he had rid thrice about the Iſland; and a hair-brained Rake, after a ſhort Stay in the Country, go Home again a compoſed, grave, worthy Gentleman.

I have premiſed theſe Particulars before I enter on the main Deſign of this Paper, becauſe I would not be thought altogether notional in what I have to ſay, and paſs only for a Projector in Morality. I could quote Horace, and Seneca, and ſome other ancient Writers of good Repute, upon the ſame Occaſion, and make out by their Teſtimony, that our Streets are filled with diſtracted Perſons; that our Shops and Taverns, private and publick Hou⯑ſes, ſwarm with them; and that it is very hard to make up a tolerable Aſſembly without a Majo⯑rity of them. But what I have already ſaid, is, I hope, ſufficient to juſtify the enſuing Project, which I ſhall therefore give ſome Account of without any further Preface.

• 1. It is humbly propoſed, That a proper Recep⯑tacle or Habitation be forthwith erected for all ſuch Perſons as, upon due Trial and Examination, ſhall appear to be out of their Wits.
• [57] 2. That to ſerve the preſent Exigency, the Col⯑lege in Moor-Fields be very much extended at both Ends; and that it be converted into a Square, by adding three other Sides to it.
• 3. That no Body be admitted into theſe Three additional Sides, but ſuch whoſe Phrenſy can lay no Claim to an Apartment in that Row of Build⯑ing which is already erected.
• 4. That the Architect, Phyſician, Apothecary, Surgeon, Keepers, Nurſes, and Porters, be all and each of them crack'd, provided that their Phrenſy does not lie in the Profeſſion or Employment to which they ſhall ſeverally and reſpectively be aſ⯑ſigned.

  N.B. It is thought fit to give the foregoing Notice, that none may preſent himſelf here for any Poſt of Honour or Profit who is not duly qualified.

• 5. That over all the Gates of the additional Buildings, there be Figures placed in the ſame Manner as over the Entrance of the Edifice already erected; provided, they repreſent ſuch Diſtracti⯑ons only as are proper for thoſe additional Build⯑ings; as, of an envious Man gnawing his own Fleſh, a Gameſter pulling himſelf by the Ears, and knocking his Head againſt a Marble Pillar, a covetous Man warming himſelf over a Heap of Gold, a Coward flying from his own Shadow, and the like.

Having laid down this general Scheme of my Deſign, I do hereby invite all Perſons who are willing to encourage ſo publick-ſpirited a Project, to bring in their Contributions as ſoon as poſſible, and to apprehend forthwith any Politician whom they ſhall catch raving in a Coffee-houſe, or any Free-thinker whom they ſhall find publiſhing his Deliriums, or any other Perſon who ſhall give the like manifeſt Signs of a crazed Imagination: And I do at the ſame Time give this publick Notice [58] to all the Madmen about this great City, That they may return to their Senſes with all imagi⯑nable Expedition, leſt if they ſhould come into my Hands, I ſhould put them into a Regimen which they would not like: for if I find any one of them perſiſt in his frantick Behaviour, I will make him in a Month's Time as famous as ever Oliver's Porter was.

THere is no Sort of Company ſo agreeable as that of Women who have good Senſe with⯑out Affectation, and can converſe with Men without any private Deſign of impoſing Chains and Fet⯑ters. Belvidera, whom I viſited this Evening, is one of theſe. There is an invincible Prejudice in Favour of all ſhe ſays, from her being a beau⯑tiful. Woman, becauſe ſhe does not conſider her ſelf as ſuch when ſhe talks to you. This amiable Temper gives a certain Tincture to all her Diſ⯑courſe, and made it very agreeable to me, till we were interrupted by Lydia, a Creature who has all the Charms that can adorn a Woman. Her Attractions would indeed be irreſiſtible, but that ſhe thinks them ſo, and is always employing them in Stratagems and Conqueſts. When I turned my Eye upon her as ſhe ſat down, I ſaw ſhe was a Perſon of that Character, which, for the further Information of my Country Correſpon⯑dents, I had long wanted an Opportunity of ex⯑plaining. Lydia is a finiſhed Coquet; which is a [59] Sect among Women of all others the moſt miſ⯑chievous, and makes the greateſt Havock and Diſorder in Society. I went on in the Diſ⯑courſe I was in with Belvidera, without ſhowing that I had obſerved any Thing extraordinary in Lydia: Upon which, I immediately ſaw her look me over as ſome very ill-bred Fellow; and caſting a ſcornful Glance on my Dreſs, give a Shrug at Belvidera. But as much as ſhe deſpiſed me, ſhe wanted my Admiration, and made Twenty Of⯑fers to bring my Eyes her Way: But I reduced her to a Reſtleſneſs in her Seat, and impertinent playing of her Fan, and many other Motions and Geſtures, before I took the leaſt Notice of her. At laſt I looked at her with a Kind of Surprize, as if ſhe had before been unobſerved by reaſon of an ill Light where ſhe ſar. It is not to be expreſſed what a ſudden Joy I ſaw riſe in her Countenance, even at the Approbation of ſuch a very old Fellow: But ſhe did not long enjoy her Triumph without a Rival; for there imme⯑diately entred Caſtabella, a Lady of a quite con⯑trary Character, that is to ſay, as eminent a Prude as Lydia is a Coquet. Belvidera gave me a Glance, which methought intimated, that they were both Curioſities in their Kind, and worth remarking. As ſoon as we were again ſeated, I ſtole Looks at each Lady, as if I was comparing their Perfe⯑ctions. Belvidera obſerved it, and began to lead me into a Diſcourſe of them both to their Faces, which is to be done eaſily enough; for one Wo⯑man is generally ſo intent upon the Faults of another, that ſhe has not Reflection enough to obſerve when her own are repreſented. I have taken Notice, Mr. Bickerſtaff (ſaid Belvidera), that you have in ſome Parts of your Writings drawn Characters of our Sex, in which you have not, to my Apprehenſion, been clear enough and di⯑ſtinct, particularly in thoſe of a Prude and a Coquet. Upon the Mention of this, Lydia was rouzed with [60] the Expectation of ſeeing Caſtabella's Picture, and Caſtabella with the Hopes of that of Lydia. Madam (ſaid I to Belvidera), when we conſider Nature, we ſhall often find very contrary Effects flow from the ſame Cauſe. The Prude and Coquet (as different as they appear in their Behaviour) are in Reality the ſame Kind of Women: The Motive of Action in both is the Affectation of pleaſing Men. They are Siſters of the ſame Blood and Conſtitution, only one chuſes a grave, the other a light, Dreſs. The Prude appears more virtuous, the Coquet more vicious, than ſhe really is. The diſtant Behaviour of the Prude, tends to the ſame Purpoſe as the Advances of the Coquet; and you have as little Reaſon to fall into Deſpair from the Severity of the one, as to con⯑ceive Hope from the Familiarity of the latter. What leads you into a clear Senſe of their Cha⯑racter is, That you may obſerve each of them has the Diſtinction of Sex in all her Thoughts, Words and Actions. You can never mention any Aſſembly you were lately in, but one asks you with a rigid, the other with a ſprightly Air, Pray what Men were there? As for Prudes, it muſt be confeſſed, that there are ſeveral of them, who, like Hypocrites, by long Practice of a falſe Part, become ſincere; or at leaſt delude themſelves in⯑to a Relief that they are ſo.

For the Benent of this Society of Ladies, I ſhall propoſe one Rule to them as a Teſt of their Virtue. I find in a very celebrated modern Au⯑thor, That the great Foundreſs of the Pietiſts, Madam de Bourignon, who was no leſs famous for the Sanctity of her Life than for the Singularity of ſome of her Opinions, was uſed to boaſt, That ſhe had not only the Spirit of Continency in her ſelf, but that ſhe had alſo the Power of commu⯑nicating it to all who beheld her. This the Scof⯑fers of thoſe Days called, The Gift of Infrigidation, and took Occaſion from it to rally her Face, ra⯑ther [61] than admire her Virtue. I would therefore adviſe the Prude, who has a Mind to know the Integrity of her own Heart, to lay her Hand ſe⯑riouſly upon it, and to examine her ſelf, whether ſhe could ſincerely rejoice in ſuch a Gift of con⯑veying chaſt Thoughts to all her Male Beholders. If ſhe has any Averſion to the Power of Inſpring ſo great a Virtue, whatever Notion ſhe may have of her Perfection, ſhe deceives her own Heart, and is ſtill in the State of Prudery. Some perhaps will look upon the Boaſt of Madam de Bourignon as the utmoſt Oſtentation of a Prude.

If you would ſee the Humour of a Coquet puſh⯑ed to the laſt Exceſs, you may find an Inſtance of it in the following Story, which I will ſet down at length, becauſe it pleaſed me when I read it, though I cannot recollect in what Au⯑thor.

A young Coquet Widow in France having been followed by a Gaſcon of Quality, who had boaſted among his Companions of ſome Favours which he had never received, to be revenged of him, ſent for him one Evening, and told him, It was in his Power to do her a very particular Ser⯑vice. The Gaſcon, with much Profeſſion of his Readineſs to obey her Commands, begged to hear in what Manner ſhe deſigned to employ him. You know (ſaid the Widow) my Friend Belinda, and muſt often have heard of the Jea⯑louſy of that impotent Wretch her Husband. Now it is abſolutely neceſſary, for the carrying on a certain Affair, That his Wife and I ſhould be together a whole Night. What I have to ask of you is, to dreſs your ſelf in her Night-Clothes, and lie by him a whole Night in her Place, that he may not miſs her while ſhe is with me. The Gaſcon (though of a very lively and undertaking Complexion) began to ſtartle at the Propoſal. Nay, ſays the Widow, if you have not the Cou⯑rage to go through what I ask of you, I muſt [62] employ ſome Body elſe that will. Madam; (ſays the Gaſcon) I'll kill him for you if you pleaſe; but for lying with him!—How is it poſſible to do it without being diſcovered? If you do not diſcover your ſelf, (ſays the Widow) you will lie ſafe enough, for he is paſt all Curioſity. He comes in at Night while ſhe is aſleep, and goes out in a Morning before ſhe awakes, and is in Pain for nothing, ſo he knows ſhe is there. Ma⯑dam, (replied the Gaſcon) How can you reward me for paſſing a Night with this old Fellow? The Widow anſwered with a Laugh, Perhaps by ad⯑mitting you to paſs a Night with one you think more agreeable. He took the Hint, put on his Night-Clothes, and had not been a-bed above an Hour before he heard a Knocking at the Door, and the Treading of one who approach'd the other Side of the Bed, and who he did not queſtion was the good Man of the Houſe. I do not know, whether the Story would be better by telling you in this Place, or at the End of it, That the Perſon who went to Bed to him, was our young Coquet Widow. The Gaſcon was in a terrible Fright every Time ſhe moved in the Bed, or turned towards him, and did not fail to ſhrink from her till he had conveyed himſelf to the very Ridge of the Bed. I will not dwell upon the Perplexity he was in the whole Night, which was augmented, when he obſerved that it was now bread Day, and that the Husband did not yet offer to get up and go about his Bu⯑ſineſs. All that the Gaſcon had for it, was to keep his Face turned from him, and to feign himſelf aſleep, when, to his utter Confuſion, the Widow at laſt puts out her Arm, and pulls the Bell at her Bed's Head. In came her Friend, and Two or Three Companions to whom the Gaſcon had boaſted of her Favours. The Wi⯑dow jumped into a Wrapping-Gown, and joined with the reſt in laughing at this Man of Intrigue.

THere is no Affection of the Mind ſo much blen⯑ded in humane Nature, and wrought into our very Conſtitution, as Pride. It appears un⯑der a Multitude of Diſguiſes, and breaks out in Ten Thouſand different Symptoms. Every one feels it in himſelf, and yet wonders to ſee it in his Neighbour. I muſt confeſs, I met with an Inſtance of it the other Day where I ſhould very little have expected it. Who would believe the proud Perſon I am going to ſpeak of, is a Cobler upon Ludgate-Hill? This Artiſt being naturally a Lover of Reſpect, and conſidering that his Cir⯑cumſtances are ſuch that no Man living will give it him, has contrived the Figure of a Beau in Wood, who ſtands before him in a bending Po⯑ſture, with his Hat under his Left Arm, and his Right Hand extended in ſuch a Manner as to hold a Thread, a Piece of Wax, or an Awl, according to the particular Service in which his Maſter thinks fit to employ him. When I ſaw him, he held a Candle in this obſequious Poſture. I was very well pleaſed with the Cobler's Invention, that had ſo ingeniouſly contrived an Inferior, and ſtood a little while contemplating this invert⯑ed Idolatry, wherein the Image did Homage to the Man. When we meet with ſuch a fantaſtick Vanity in one of this Order, it is no Wonder if we may trace it through all Degrees above it, [64] and particularly through all the Steps of Great⯑neſs. We caſily ſee the Abſurdity of Pride when it enters into the Heart of a Cobler; though in Reality it is altogether as ridiculous and unreaſo⯑nable wherever it takes Poſſeſſion of an Humane Creature. There is no Temptation to it from the Reflexion upon our Being in general, or upon any Comparative Perfection, whereby one Man may excel another. The greater a Man's Know⯑ledge is, the greater Motive he may ſeem to have for Pride; but in the ſame Proportion as the one riſes, the other ſinks, it being the chief Office of Wiſdom to diſcover to us our Weakneſſes and Imperfections.

As Folly is the Foundation of Pride, the na⯑tural Superſtructure of it is Madneſs. If there was an Occaſion for the Experiment, I would not queſtion to make a proud Man a Lunatick in Three Weeks Time, provided I had it in my Power to ripen his Phrenſy with proper Applica⯑tions. It is an admirable Reflection in Terence, where it is ſaid of a Paraſite, Hic Homines ex Stul⯑tis facit Inſanos. This Fellow (ſays he) has an Art of converting Fools into Madmen. When I was in France, (the Region of Complaiſance and Vanity) I have often obſerved, that a great Man who has entered a Levy of Flatterers humble and tempe⯑rate, has grown ſo inſenſibly heated by the Court, which was paid him on all Sides, that he has been quite diſtracted before he could get into his Coach.

If we conſult the Collegiates of Moorfields, we ſhall find moſt of them are beholden to their Pride for their Introduction into that magnificent Palace. I had ſome Years ago the Curioſity to enquire into the particular Circumſtances of theſe whimſical Freeholders, and learned from their own Mouths the Condition and Character of each of them. Indeed I found, that all I ſpoke to were Perſons of Quality. There were at that [65] Time Five Dutcheſſes, Three Earls, Two Hea⯑then Gods, an Emperor, and a Prophet. There were alſo a great Number of ſuch as were locked up from their Eſtates, and others who concealed their Titles. A Leather-ſeller of Taunton whiſ⯑per'd me in my Ear, That he was the Duke of Monmouth; but begged me not to betray him. At a little Diſtance from him ſat a Taylor's Wife, who asked me as I went by, if I had ſeen the Sword-bearer? Upon which I preſumed to ask her, Who ſhe was? And was anſwered, My Lady Mayoreſs.

I was very ſenſibly touched with Compaſſion towards theſe miſerable People; and indeed, ex⯑tremely mortified to ſee Humane Nature capable of being thus disfigured. However, I reaped this Benefit from it, That I was reſolved to guard my ſelf againſt a Paſſion which makes ſuch Havock in the Brain, and produces ſo much Diſorder in the Imagination. For this Reaſon, I have endeavoured to keep down the ſecret Swel⯑lings of Reſentment, and ſtifle the very firſt Sug⯑geſtions of Self-eſteem; to eſtabliſh my Mind in Tranquility, and over-value nothing in my own, or in another's Poſſeſſion.

For the Benefit of ſuch whoſe Heads are a lit⯑tle turned, though not to ſo great a Degree as to qualify them for the Place of which I have been now ſpeaking, I ſhall aſſign one of the Sides of the College which I am erecting, for the Cure of this dangerous Diſtemper.

The moſt remarkable of the Perſons whoſe Di⯑ſturbance ariſes from Pride, and whom I ſhall uſe all poſſible Diligence to cure, are ſuch as are hidden in the Appearance of quite contrary Ha⯑bits and Diſpoſitions. Among ſuch, I ſhall in the firſt Place take Care of one who is under the moſt ſubtle Species of Pride that I have obſerved [...] my whole Experience.

[66] This Patient is a Perſon for whom I have a great Reſpect, as being an old Courtier, and a Friend of mine in my Youth. The Man has but a bare Subſiſtence, juſt enough to pay his Reckoning with us at the Trumpet: But by having ſpent the Beginning of his Life in the Hearing of great Men and Perſons of Power, he is always promi⯑ſing to do good Offices, to introduce every Man he converſes with into the World; will deſire one of ten Times his Subſtance to let him ſee him ſometimes, and hints to him, that he does not forget him. He anſwers to Matters of no Conſequence with great Circumſpection; but however, maintains a general Civility in his Words and Actions, and an inſolent Benevo⯑lence to all whom he has to do with: This he practiſes with a grave Tone and Air; and tho' I am his Senior by Twelve Years, and richer by Forty Pounds per Annum, he had Yeſterday the Impudence to commend me to my Face, and tell me, He ſhould be always ready to encourage me. In a Word, he is a very inſignificant Fel⯑low, but exceeding Gracious. The beſt Return I can make him for his Favours, is, to carry him my ſelf to Bedlam, and ſee him well taken Care of.

The next Perſon I ſhall provide for, is of a quite contrary Character; that has in him all the Stiffneſs and Inſolence of Quality, without a Grain of Senſe or Good Nature to make it either reſpected or belov'd. His Pride has infected every Muſcle of his Face; and yet, after all his Endea⯑vours to ſhow Mankind that he contemns them, he is only neglected by all that ſee him, as not of Conſequence enough to be hated.

For the Cure of this particular Sort of Mad⯑neſs, it will be neceſſary to break through all Forms with him, and familiarize his Carriage by the Uſe of a good Cudgel. It may likewiſe be of [67] great Benefit to make him jump over a Stick half a Dozen Times every Morning.

A Third whom I have in my Eye is a young Fellow, whoſe Lunacy is ſuch, that he boaſts of nothing but what he ought to be aſhamed of. He is vain of being rotten, and talks publickly of having committed Crimes, which he ought to be hanged for by the Laws of his Country.

There are ſeveral others whoſe Brains are hurt with Pride, and whom I may hereafter attempt to recover; but ſhall conclude my preſent Liſt with an old Woman, who is juſt dropping into her Grave, that talks of nothing but her Birth. Tho' ſhe has not a Tooth in her Head, ſhe ex⯑pects to be valued for the Blood in her Veins, which ſhe fancies is much better than that which glows in the Cheeks of Belinda, and ſets half the Town on Fire.

THis Morning I received a Letter from a For⯑tune-Hunter, which being better in its Kind than Men of that Character uſually write, I have thought fit to communicate to the Publick.

This Letter ſeems to be written by a Wag, and for that Reaſon I am not much concern'd for what Reception Mopſa ſhall think fit to give it; but the following certainly proceeds from a poor Heart, that languiſhes under the moſt deplorable Misfortune that poſſibly can befal a Woman. A Man that is treacherouſly dealt with in Love, may have Recourſe to many Conſolations. He may gracefully break through all Oppoſition to his Miſtreſs, or explain with his Rival; urge his own Conſtancy, or aggravate the Falſhood by which it is repay'd. But a Woman that is ill [...]reated, has no Refuge in her Griefs but in Si⯑ [...]ence and Secrecy. The World is ſo unjuſt, that [...] Female Heart which has been once touched, [...]s thought for ever blemiſhed. The very Grief [...]n this Caſe is looked upon as a Reproach, and [...] Complaint almoſt a Breach of Chaſtity. For [...]heſe Reaſons, we ſee Treachery and Falſhood [...]re become as it were Male-Vices, and are ſel⯑ [...]om found, never acknowledged, in the other [70] Sex. This may ſerve to introduce Statira's Let⯑ter, which, without any Turn or Art, has ſome⯑thing ſo pathetical and moving in it, that I verily believe it to be true, and therefore heartily pity the injured Creature that writ it.

The Name my Correſpondent gives her ſelf, puts me in Mind of my old reading in Romances, and brings into my Thoughts a Speech of the renowned Don Bellianis, who, upon a Complaint made him of a diſcourteous Knight, that had left his injur'd Paramour in the ſame Manner, dries up her Tears with a Promiſe of Relief. Diſconſolate Damſel, (quoth he) a foul Diſgrace it were to all right worthy Profeſſors of Chivalry, if ſuch a Blot to Knighthood ſhould paſs unchaſtiſed. Give me to know the Abode of this recreant Lover, and I will give him as a Feaſt to the Fowls of the Air, or drag him bound before you at my Horſe's Tail.

I am not aſhamed to own my ſelf a Champion of diſtreſſed Damſels, and would venture as far [72] to relieve them as Don Bellianis; for whic Reaſon, I do invite this Lady to let me know the Name of the Traitor' who has deceived her and do promiſe, not only her, but all the Fair One of Great Britain, who lie under the ſame Cala⯑mity, to employ my Right Hand for their Re⯑dreſs, and ſerve them to my laſt Drop of Ink.

WHen my Paper for to Morrow was prepa⯑red for the Preſs, there came in this Mor⯑ning a Mail from Holland, which brought me ſe⯑veral Advices from Foreign Parts, and took my Thoughts off Domeſtick Affairs. Among others, I have a Letter from a Burgher of Amſterdam, who makes me his Compliments, and tells me, he has ſent me ſeveral Draughts of Humorous and Satyrical Pictures by the beſt Hands of the Dutch Nation. They are a trading People, and in their very Minds Mechanicks. They expreſs their Wit in Manufacture, as we do in Manu⯑ſcript. He informs me, That a very witty Hand has lately repreſented the preſent Poſture of Pu⯑blick Affairs in a Landskip, or rather Sea-piece, wherein the Potentates of the Alliance are fi⯑gured as their Intereſts correſpond with, or af⯑fect each other, under the Appearance of Com⯑manders of Ships. Theſe Veſſels carry the Co⯑lours of the reſpective Nations concerned in the preſent War. The whole Deſign ſeems to tend [73] to one Point, which is, That ſeveral Squadrons of Britiſh and Dutch Ships are battering a French Man of War, in order to make her deliver up a Long-Boat with Spaniſh Colours. My Corre⯑ſpondent informs me, That a Man muſt under⯑ſtand the Compaſs perfectly well, to be able to comprehend the Beauty and Invention of this Piece, which is ſo skilfully drawn, that the par⯑ticular Views of every Prince in Europe, are ſeen according as the Ships lie to the main Figure in the Picture, and as that Figure may help or re⯑tard their Sailing. It ſeems this Curioſity is now on Board a Ship bound for England, and with other Rarities made a Preſent to me. As ſoon as it arrives, I deſign to expoſe it to publick View at my Secretary Mr. Lillie's, who ſhall have an Explication of all the Terms of Art; and I doubt not but it will give as good Con⯑tent as the moving Picture in Fleet-ſtreet.

But above all the Honours I have received from the Learned World abroad, I am moſt delighted with the following Epiſtle from Rome.

I Find ſome of the moſt polite Latin Authors, who wrote at a Time when Rome was in its Glory, ſpeak with a certain noble Vanity of the Brightneſs and Splendour of the Age in which they lived. Pliny often compliments his Emperor Trajan upon this Head; and when he would ani⯑mate him to any Thing great, or diſſwade him from any Thing that was improper, he inſinuates, that it is befitting or unbecoming (the Claritas & Nitor S [...]uli) that Period of Time which was made illuſtrious by his Reign. When we caſt our Eyes back on the Hiſtory of Mankind, and trace them through their ſeveral Succeſſions to their firſt Original, we ſometimes ſee them break⯑ing out in great and memorable Actions, and towring up to the utmoſt Heights of Virtue and Knowledge; when; perhaps, if we carry our Ob⯑ſervation to a little Diſtance, we ſee them ſunk into Sloth and Ignorance, and altogether loſt in Darkneſs and Obſcurity. Sometimes the whole Species is aſleep for Two or Three Generations, and then again awakens into Action, flouriſhes in Heroes, Philoſophers, and Poets, who do Ho⯑nour to humane Nature, and leave ſuch Tracts of Glory behind them, as diſtinguiſh the Years, in [78] which they acted their Part, from the ordinary Courſe of Time.

Methinks a Man cannot, without a ſecret Sa⯑tisfaction, conſider the Glory of the preſent Age, which will ſhine as bright as any other in the Hi⯑ſtory of Mankind. It is ſtill big with great E⯑vents, and has already produced Changes and Re⯑volutions which will be as much admired by Po⯑ſterity, as any that have happen'd in the Days of our Fathers, or in the old Times before them. We have ſeen Kingdoms divided and united, Mo⯑narchs erected and depoſed, Nations transferr'd from one Sovereign to another; Conquerors rai⯑ſed to ſuch a Greatneſs as has given a Terror to Europe, and thrown down by ſuch a Fall, as has moved their Pity.

But it is ſtill a more pleaſing View to an Engliſh⯑man, to ſee his own Country give the chief In⯑fluence to ſo illuſtrious an Age, and ſtand in the ſt ongeſt Point of Light amidſt the diffuſed Glory that ſurrounds it.

If we begin with Learned Men, we may ob⯑ſerve, to the Honour of our Country, That thoſe who make the greateſt Figure in moſt Arts and Sciences, are univerſally allowed to be of the Bri⯑tiſh Nation; and what is more remarkable, That Men of the greateſt Learning are among the Men of the greateſt Quality.

A Nation may indeed abound with Perſons of ſuch uncommon Parts and Worth, as may make them rather a Misfortune than a Bleſſing to the Publick. Thoſe who ſingly might have been of infinite Advantage to the Age they live in, may, by riſing up together in the ſame Criſis of Time, and by interfering in their Purſuits of Honour, rather interrupt than promote the Service of their Country. Of this we have a famous Inſtance in the Republick of Rome, when Caeſar, Pompey, Cato, Cicero, and Brutus, endeavoured to recom⯑mend [79] themſelves at the ſame Time to the Admi⯑ration of their Contemporaries. Mankind was not able to provide for ſo many extraordinary Perſons at once, or find out Poſts ſuitable to their Ambition and Abilities. For this Reaſon, they were all as miſerable in their Deaths, as they were famous in their Lives, and occaſioned, not only the Ruin of each other, but alſo that of the Commonwealth.

It is therefore a particular Happineſs to a Peo⯑ple, when the Men of ſuperior Genius and Cha⯑racter are ſo juſtly diſpoſed in the high Places of Honour, that each of them moves in a Sphere which is proper to him, and requires thoſe parti⯑cular Qualities in which he excels.

If I ſee a General commanding the Forces of his Country, whoſe Victories are not to be parallel'd in Story, and who is as famous for his Negotia⯑tions as his Victories; and at the ſame Time ſee the Management of a Nation's Treaſury in the Hands of one who has always diſtinguiſh'd him⯑ſelf by a generous Contempt of his own private Wealth, and an exact Frugality of that which belongs to the Publick; I cannot but think a People under ſuch an Adminiſtration may pro⯑miſe themſelves Conqueſt abroad, and Plenty at home, If I were to wiſh for a proper Perſon to preſide over the Publick Councils, it ſhould cer⯑tainly be one as much admir'd for his univerſal Knowledge of Men and Things, as for his Elo⯑quence, Courage and Integrity, in the exerting of ſuch extraordinary Talents.

Who is not pleaſed to ſee a Perſon in the higheſt Station in the Law, who was the moſt eminent in his Profeſſion, and the moſt accompliſhed Orator at the Bar? Or at the Head of the Fleet a Com⯑mander, under whoſe Conduct the Common Ene⯑my received ſuch a Blow, as he has never been able to recover?

[80] Were we to form to our ſelves the Idea of one whom we ſhould think proper to govern a diſtant Kingdom, conſiſting chiefly of thoſe who differ from us in Religion, and are influenced by foreign Politicks, would it not be ſuch a one as had ſig⯑nalized himſelf by an uniform and unſhaken Zeal for the Proteſtant Intereſt, and by his Dexterity in defeating the Skill and Artifice of its Enemies. In ſhort, if we find a great Man popular for his Honeſty and Humanity, as well as famed for his Learning and great Skill in all the Languages of Europe, or a Perſon eminent for thoſe Qualifica⯑tions which make Men ſhine in publick Aſſem⯑blies, or for that Steadineſs, Conſtancy, and good Senſe, which carry a Man to the deſired Point through all the Oppoſition of Tumult and Preju⯑dice, we have the Happineſs to behold them all in Poſts ſuitable to their Characters.

Such a Conſtellation of great Perſons, if I may ſo ſpeak, while they ſhine out in their own di⯑ſtinct Capacities, reflect a Luſtre upon each other, but in a more particular Manner on their Sove⯑reign, who has placed them in thoſe proper Situa⯑tions, by which their Virtues become ſo beneficial to all Her Subjects. It is the Anniverſary of the Birth-day of this Glorious Queen, which naturally led me into this Field of Contemplation, and in⯑ſtead of joining in the publick Exultations that are made on ſuch Occaſions, to entertain my Thoughts with the more ſerious Pleaſure of ruminating upon the Glories of Her Reign.

While I behold Her ſurrounded with Triumphs, and adorned with all the Proſperity and Succeſs which Heaven ever ſhed on a Mortal, and ſtill con⯑ſidering her ſelf as ſuch, tho' the Perſon appears to me exceedinggreat that has theſe juſt Honours paid to her; yet I muſt confeſs, ſhe appears much great er in that ſhe receives them with ſuch a glo⯑rious Humilility, and ſhows ſhe has no further Re⯑gard for them, than as they ariſe from theſe great [81] Events which have made her Subjects happy. For my own Part, I muſt confeſs, when I ſee private Virtues in ſo high a Degree of Perfection, I am not aſtoniſhed at any extraordinary Succeſs that attends them, but look upon publick Triumphs as the natural Conſequences of religious Retire⯑ments.

THere is in this City a certain Fraternity of Chymical Operators, who work under Ground in Holes, Caverns, and dark Retirements, to conceal their Myſteries from the Eyes and Ob⯑ſervation of Mankind. Theſe Subterraneous Phi⯑loſophers are daily employed in the Tranſmuta⯑tion of Liquors, and, by the Power of Magical Drugs and Incantations, raiſing under the Streets of London the choiceſt Products of the Hills and Valleys of France. They can ſqueeze Bourdeaux out of the Sloe, and draw Champagne from an Ap⯑ple. Virgil in that remarkable Prophecy,

Seems to have hinted at this Art, which can turn a Plantation of Northern Hedges into a Vineyard. Theſe Adepts are known among one another by the Name of Wine-Brewers, and I am afraid do great Injury, not only to Her Majeſty's Cuſtoms, but to the Bodies of many of Her good Subjects.

Having received ſundry Complaints againſt theſe inviſible Workmen, I ordered the proper Officer of my Court to ferret them out of their reſpective Caves, and bring them before me, which was Ye⯑ſterday executed accordingly.

[83] The Perſon who appeared againſt them was a Merchant, who had by him a great Magazine of Wines that he had laid in before the War: But theſe Gentlemen (as he ſaid) had ſo vitiated the Nation's Palate, that no Man could believe his to be French, becauſe it did not taſt like what they ſold for ſuch. As a Man never pleads better than where his own Perſonal Intereſt is concern'd, he exhibited to the Court with great Eloquence, That this new Corporation of Druggiſts had inflamed the Bills of Mortality, and puzzled the College of Phyſicians with Diſeaſes, for which they neither knew a Name or Cure. He accuſed ſome of gi⯑ving all their Cuſtomers Colicks and Megrims; and mentioned one who had boaſted, he had a Tun of Claret by him, that in a Fortnight's Time ſhould give the Gout to a Dozen of the healthful⯑eſt Men in the City, provided that their Conſtitu⯑tions were prepared for it by Wealth and Idleneſs. He then enlarged, with a great Show of Reaſon, upon the Prejudice which theſe Mixtures and Compoſitions had done to the Brains of the Eng⯑liſh Nation; as is too viſible (ſaid he) from many late Pamphlets, Speeches and Sermons, as well as from the ordinary Converſations of the Youth of this Age. He then quoted an ingenious Perſon, who would undertake to know by a Man's Wri⯑tings, the Wine he moſt delighted in; and on that Occaſion named a certain Satyriſt, whom he had diſcovered to be the Author of a Lampoon, by the manifeſt Taſt of the Sloe, which ſhow'd it ſelf in it by much Roughneſs, and little Spirit.

In the laſt Place, he aſcribed to the unnatural Tumults and Fermentations which theſe Mixtures raiſe in our Blood; the Diviſions, Heats and Ani⯑moſities, that reign among us; and in particular, aſſerted moſt of the modern Enthuſiaſms and Agitations to be nothing elſe but the Effects of adulterated Port.

[84] The Council for the Brewers had a Face ſo ex⯑tremely inflamed and illuminated with Carbun⯑cles, that I did not wonder to ſee him an Advo⯑cate for theſe Sophiſtications. His Rhetorick was likewiſe ſuch as I ſhould have expected from the common Draught, which I found he often drank to a great Exceſs. Indeed, I was ſo ſurpriſed at his Figure and Parts, that I ordered him to give me a Taſt of his uſual Liquor; which I had no ſooner drank, but I found a Pimple riſing in my F [...]ehead; and felt ſuch a ſenſible Decay in my Underſtanding, that I would not proceed in the Trial till the Fume of it was entirely diſſipa⯑ted.

This notable Advocate had little to ſay in the Defence of his C [...]ents, but that they were under a Neceſſity of making Claret if they would keep open their Doors, it being the Nature of Man⯑kind to love every Thing that is prohibited. He further pretended to reaſon, That it might be as profitable to the Nation to make French Wine as French Hats; and concluded with the great Ad⯑vantage that this had already brought to Part of the Kingdom. Upon which he informed the Court, That the Lands in Herefordſhire were rai⯑ſed Two Years Purchaſe ſince the Beginning of the War.

When I had ſent out my Summons to theſe Peo⯑ple, I gave at the ſame Time Orders to each of them to bring the ſeveral Ingredients he made uſe of in diſtinct Phials, which they had done ac⯑cordingly, and ranged them into two Rows on each Side of the Court. The Workmen were drawn up in Ranks behind them. The Merchant informed me, That in one Row of Phials were the ſeveral Colours they dealt in, and in the other the Taſts. He then ſhowed me on the Right Hand one who went by the Name of Tom. Tintoret, who (as he told me) was the greateſt Maſter in his Colouring of any Vintner in London. To give me [85] a Proof of his Art, he took a Glaſs of fair Water; and by the Infuſion of Three Drops out of one of his Phials, converted it into a moſt beautiful pale Burgundy. Two more of the ſame Kind heighten⯑ed it into a perfect Languedoc: From thence it paſ⯑ſed into a florid Hermitage: And after having gone through Two or Three other Changes, by the Ad⯑dition of a ſingle Drop, ended in a very deep Pontack. This ingenious Vertuoſo ſeeing me very much ſurpriſed at his Art, told me, That he had not an Opportunity of ſhowing it in Perfection, having only made uſe of Water for the Ground-Work of his Colouring: But that if I were to ſee an Operation upon Liquors of ſtronger Bodies, the Art would appear to a much greater Advan⯑tage. He added, That he doubted not but it would pleaſe my Curioſity to ſee the Cyder of one Apple take only a Vermilion, when another, with a leſs Quantity of the ſame Infuſion, would riſe into a dark Purple, according to the different Texture of Parts in the Liquor. He informed me alſo, That he could hit the different Shades and Degrees of Red, as they appear in the Pink and the Roſe, the Clove and the Carnation, as he had Rheniſh or Moſelle, Perry or White Port, to work in.

I was ſo ſatisfied with the Ingenuity of this Vertuoſo, that, after having adviſed him to quit ſo diſhoneſt a Profeſſion, I promiſed him, in Con⯑ſideration of his great Genius, to recommend him as a Partner to a Friend of mine, who has heaped up great Riches, and is a Scarlet Dyer.

The Artiſts on my other Hand were ordered in the Second Place to make ſome Experiments of their Skill before me: Upon which the famous Harry Sippet ſtept out, and asked me, What I would be pleaſed to drink? At the ſame Time he filled out Three or Four white Liquors in a Glaſs, and told me, That it ſhould be what I pleaſed to tall for; adding very learnedly, That the Liquor [86] before him was as the naked Subſtance or Firſt Matter of his Compound, to which he and his Friend; who ſtood over-againſt him, could give what Accidents or Form they pleaſed. Finding him ſo great a Philoſopher, I deſired he would convey into it the Qualities and Eſſence of right Bourdeaux. Coming, coming, Sir, (ſaid he) with the Air of a Drawer; and after having caſt his Eye on the ſeveral Taſts and Flavours that ſtood before him, he took up a little Cruit that was filled with a kind of Inky Juice, and pour⯑ing ſome of it out into the Glaſs of White-Wine, preſented it to me, and told me, This was the Wine over which moſt of the Buſineſs of the laſt Term had been diſpatched. I muſt confeſs, I looked upon that ſooty Drug which he held up in his Cruit as the Quinteſſence of Engliſh Bour⯑deaux, and therefore deſired him to give me a Glaſs of it by it ſelf, which he did with great Un⯑willingneſs. My Cat at that Time ſat by me upon the Elbow of my Chair; and as I did not care for making the Experiment upon my ſelf, I reached it to her to ſip of it, which had like to have coſt her her Life; for notwithſtanding it flung her at firſt into freakiſh Tricks, quite con⯑trary to her uſual Gravity, in leſs than a quarter of an Hour ſhe fell into Convulſions; and had it not been a Creature more tenacious of Life than any other, would certainly have died under the Operation.

I was ſo incenſed by the Tortures of my inno⯑cent Domeſtick, and the unworthy Dealings of theſe Men, that I told them, if each of them had as many Lives as the injured Creature before them, they deſerved to forfeit them for the per⯑nicious Arts which they uſed for their Profit. I therefore bid them look upon themſelves as no better than as a kind of Aſſaſſins and Murderers within the Law. However, ſince they had dealt ſo clearly with me, and laid before me their [87] whole Practice. I diſmiſſed them for that Time; with a particular Requeſt, That they would not poiſon any of my Friends and Acquaintance, and take to ſome honeſt Livelihood without Loſs of Time.

For my own Part, I have reſolved hereafter to be very careful in my Liquors, and have agreed with a Friend of mine in the Army, upon their next March, to ſecure me Two Hogſheads of the beſt Stomach Wine in the Cellars of Verſailles, for the good of my Lucubrations, and the Comfort of my old Age.

AFter having applied my Mind with more than ordinary Attention to my Studies, it is my uſual Cuſtom to relax and unbend it in the Converſation of ſuch as are rather eaſy than ſhi⯑ning Companions. This I find particularly ne⯑ceſſary for me before I retire to Reſt, in order to draw my Slumbers upon me by Degrees, and fall aſleep inſenſibly. This is the particular Uſe I make of a Set of heavy honeſt Men, with whom I have paſſed many Hours with much Indolence, though not with great Pleaſure. Their Conver⯑ſation is a kind of Preparative for Sleep: It takes the Mind down from its Abſtractions, leads it in⯑to the familiar Traces of Thought, and lulls it into [88] that State of Tranquility, which is the Condition of a thinking Man when he is but half awake. After this, my Reader will not be ſurpriſed to hear the Account which I am about to give of a Club of my own Contemporaries, among whom I paſs Two or Three Hours every Evening. This I look upon as taking my firſt Nap before I go to Bed. The Truth of it is, I ſhould think my ſelf unjuſt to Poſterity, as well as to the Society at the Trumpet, of which I am a Member, did not I in ſome Part of my Writings give an Account of the Perſons among whom I have paſſed almoſt a Sixth Part of my Time for theſe laſt Forty Years. Our Club conſiſted originally of Fifteen; but partly by the Severity of the Law in arbitrary Times, and partly by the natural Effects of old Age, we are at preſent reduced to a Third Part of that Number: In which however we have this Conſolation, That the beſt Company is ſaid to conſiſt of Five Perſons. I muſt confeſs, beſides the aforementioned Benefit which I meet with in the Converſation of this ſelect Society, I am not the leſs pleaſed with the Company, in that I find my ſelf the greateſt Wit among them, and am heard as their Oracle in all Points of Learning and Difficulty.

Sir Jeoffrey Notch, who is the oldeſt of the Club, has been in Poſſeſſion of the Right Hand Chair Time out of Mind, and is the only Man among us that has the Liberty of ſtirring the Fire. This our Foreman is a Gentleman of an ancient Family, that came to a great Eſtate ſome Years before he had Diſcretion, and run it out in Hounds, Hor⯑ſes, and Cock-fighting; for which Reaſon he looks upon himſelf as an honeſt worthy Gentle⯑man who has had Misfortunes in the World, and calls every thriving Man a pitiful Upſtart.

Major Matchlock is the next Senior, who ſerved in the laſt Civil Wars, and has all the Battles by Heart. He does not think any Action in Europe [89] worth talking of ſince the Fight of Marſton-Moor; and every Night tells us of his having been knock'd off his Horſe at the Riſing of the London 'Prentices; for which he is in great Eſteem amongſt us.

Honeſt old Dick Reptile is the Third of our So⯑ciety: He is a good natured indolent Man, who ſpeaks little himſelf, but laughs at our Jokes, and brings his young Nephew along with him, a Youth of Eighteen Years old, to ſhow him good Company, and give him a Taſt of the World. This young Fellow ſits generally ſilent; but when⯑ever he opens his Mouth, or laughs at any Thing that paſſes, he is conſtantly told by his Uncle, after a jocular Manner, ‘"Ay, ay, Jack, you young Men think us Fools; but we old Men know you are.'’

The greateſt Wit of our Company, next to my ſelf, is a Bencher of the neighbouring Inn, who in his Youth frequented the Ordinaries about Cha⯑ring-Croſs, and pretends to have been intimate with Jack Ogle. He has about Ten Diſtichs of Hudibras without Book, and never leaves the Club till he has applied them all. If any modern Wit be mentioned, or any Town Frolick ſpoken of, he ſhakes his Head at the Dulneſs of the pre⯑ſent Age, and tells us a Story of Jack Ogle.

For my own Part, I am eſteemed among them, becauſe they ſee I am ſomething reſpected by others, though at the ſame Time I underſtand by their Behaviour, that I am conſidered by them as a Man of a great deal of Learning, but no Know⯑ledge of the World; inſomuch that the Major ſometimes, in the Height of his Military Pride, calls me the Philoſopher: And Sir Jeoffrey no lon⯑ger ago than laſt Night, upon a Diſpute what Day of the Month it was then in Holland, pulled his Pipe out of his Mouth, and cried, What does the Scholar ſay to it?

[90] Our Club meets preciſely at Six a Clock in the Evening; but I did not come laſt Night till Half an Hour after Seven, by which Means I eſcaped the Battle of Naſeby, which the Major uſually be⯑gins at about Three Quarters after Six; I found alſo, That my good Friend, the Bencher, had al⯑ready ſpent Three of his Diſtichs, and only wait⯑ing an Opportunity to hear a Sermon ſpoken of, that he might introduce the Couplet where a-Stick rhimes to Eccleſiaſtick. At my Entrance in⯑to the Room, they were naming a red Petticoat and a Cloak, by which I found that the Ben⯑cher had been diverting them with a Story of Jack Ogle.

I had no ſooner taken my Seat, but Sir Jeoffrey, to ſhow his good Will towards me, gave me a Pipe of his own Tobacco, and ſtirred up the Fire. I lock upon it as a Point of Morality, to be obliged by thoſe who endeavour to oblige me; and there⯑fore in Requital for his Kindneſs, and to ſet the Converſation a going, I took the beſt Occaſion I could, to put him upon telling us the Story of old Gantlett, which he always does with very parti⯑cular Concern. He traced up his Deſcent on both Sides for ſeveral Generations, deſcribing his Diet and Manner of Life, with his ſeveral Battles, and particularly that in which he fell. This Gantlett was a Game-Cock, upon whoſe Head the Knight in his Youth had won Five Hundred Pounds, and loſt Two Thouſand. This naturally ſet the Major upon the Account of Edge-hill Fight, and ended in a Duel of Jack Ogle's

Old Reptile was extremely attentive to all that was ſaid, tho' it was the ſame he had heard every Night for theſe Twenty Years, and upon all Oc⯑caſions, winked upon his Nephew to mind what paſſed.

This may ſuffice to give the World a Taſt of our innocent Converſation, which we ſpun out till about Ten of the Clock, when my Maid came [91] with a Lanthorn to light me Home. I could not but reflect with my ſelf as I was going out upon the talkative Humour of old Men, and the little Figure which that Part of Life makes in one who cannot employ this natural Propenſity in Diſcour⯑ſes which would make him venerable. I muſt own, it makes me very melancholy in Company, when I hear a young Man begin a Story; and have often obſerv'd, That one of a Quarter of an Hour long in a Man of Five and twenty, gathers Circumſtances every Time he tells it, till it grows into a long Canterbury Tale of two Hours by that Time he is Threeſcore.

The only Way of avoiding ſuch a trifling and frivolous old Age, is, to lay up in our Way to it ſuch Stores of Knowledge and Obſervation as may make us uſeful and agreeable in our declining Years. The Mind of Man in a long Life will become a Magazine of Wiſdom or Folly, and will conſequently diſcharge it ſelf in ſomething im⯑pertinent or improving. For which Reaſon, as there is nothing more ridiculous than an old tri⯑fling Story-Teller, ſo there is nothing more vene⯑rable than one who has turned his Experience to the Entertainment and Advantage of Mankind.

In ſhort, we who are in the laſt Stage of Life, and are apt to indulge our ſelves in Talk, ought to conſider, if what we ſpeak be worth being heard, and endeavour to make our Diſcourſe like that of Naſtor, which Homer compares to the Flowing of Honey for its Sweetneſs.

I am afraid I ſhall be thought guilty of this Exceſs I am ſpeaking of, when I cannot conclude without obſerving, that Milton certainly thought of this Paſſage in Homer when in his Deſcription of an eloquent Spirit, he ſays, His Tongue drop'd Manna.

SIlence is ſometimes more ſignificant and ſu⯑blime than the moſt noble and moſt expreſ⯑ſive Eloquence, and is on many Occaſions the In⯑dication of a great Mind. Several Authors have treated of Silence as a Part of Duty and Diſcre⯑tion, but none of them have conſidered it in this Light. Homer compares the Noiſe and Clamour of the Trojans advancing towards the Enemy, to the Cackling of Cranes when they invade an Army of Pigmies. On the contrary, he makes his Countrymen and Favourites, the Greeks, move forward in a regular determined March, and in the Depth of Silence. I find in the Accounts which are given us of ſome of the more [...]aſt [...] Nations, where the Inhabitants are diſpoſed by their Conſtitutions and Climates to higher Strains of Thought, and more elevated Raptures than what we feel in the Northern Regions of the World, That Silence is a Religious Exerciſe among them. For when their publick Devotions are in the greateſt Fervour, and their Hearts lifted up as high as Words can raiſe them, there are cer⯑tain Suſpenſions of Sound and Motion for a Time, in which the Mind is left to it ſelf, and ſuppoſed to ſwell with ſuch ſecret Conceptions as are too big for Utterance. I have my ſelf been wonder⯑fully delighted with a Maſter-piece of Muſick, when in the very Tumult and Ferment of their Harmony, all the Voices and Inſtruments have [93] ſtopped ſhort on a ſudden, and after a little Pauſe recovered themſelves again as it were, and renew⯑ed the Concert in all its Parts. Methoughts this ſhort Interval of Silence has had more Mufick in it than any the ſame Space of Time before or af⯑ter it. There are Two Inſtances of Silence in the Two greateſt Poets that ever wrote, which have ſomething in them as ſublime as any of the Speeches in their whole Works. The Firſt is that of Ajax, in the Eleventh Book of the Odyſ⯑ſy. Ulyſſes, who had been the Rival of this great Man in his Life, as well as the Occaſion of his Death, upon meeting his Shade in the Region of departed Heroes, makes his Submiſſion to him with an Humility next to Adoration, which the other paſſes over with dumb ſullen Majeſty, and ſuch a Silence, as (to uſe the Words of Longinus) had more Greatneſs in it than any Thing he could have ſpoken.

The next Inſtance I ſhall mention is in Virgil, where the Poet, doubtleſs, imitates this Silence of Ajax in that of Dido; though I do not know that any of his Commentators have taken Notice of it. Aeneas finding among the Shades of de⯑ſpairing Lovers, the Ghoſt of her who had lately died for him, with the Wound ſtill freſh upon her, addreſſes himſelf to her with expanded Arms, Floods of Tears, and the moſt paſſionate Profeſ⯑ſions of his own Innocence as to what had hap⯑pen'd; all which Dido receives with the Dignity and Diſdain of a reſenting Lover, and an injured Queen; and is ſo far from vouchſafing him an Anſwer, that ſhe does not give him a ſingle Look. The Poet repreſents her as turning away her Face from him while he ſpoke to her; and after ha⯑ving kept her Eyes for ſome Time upon the Ground, as one that heard and contemned his Proteſtations, flying from him into the Grove of Myrtle, and into the Arms of another, whoſe Fi⯑delity had deſerved her Love.

[94] I have often thought our Writers of Tragedy have been very defective in this Particular, and that they might have given great Beauty to their Works, by certain Stops and Pauſes in the Re⯑preſentation of ſuch Paſſions, as it is not in the Power of Language to expreſs. There is ſome⯑thing like this in the laſt Act of Venice Preſerv'd, where Pierre is brought to an infamous Execu⯑tion, and begs of his Friend, as a Reparation for paſt Injuries, and the only Favour he could do him, to reſcue him from the Ignominy of the Wheel by ſtabbing him. As he is going to make this dreadful Requeſt, he is not able to commu⯑nicate it, but withdraws his Face from his Friend's Ear, and burſts into Tears. The melan⯑choly Silence that follows hereupon, and conti⯑nues till he has recovered himſelf enough to re⯑veal his Mind to his Friend, raiſes in the Specta⯑tors a Grief that is inexpreſſible, and an Idea of ſuch a complicated Diſtreſs in the Actor, as Words cannot utter. It would look as ridiculous to many Readers to give Rules and Directions for proper Silences, as for Penning a Whiſper: But it is certain, that in the Extremity of moſt Paſſions, particularly Surpriſe, Admiration, Aſtoniſhment, nay, Rage it ſelf; there is nothing more graceful than to ſee the Play ſtand ſtill for a few Moments, and the Audience fixed in an agreeable Suſpence, during the Silence of a skilful Actor.

But Silence never ſhows it ſelf to ſo great an Advantage, as when it is made the Reply to Ca⯑lumny and Defamation, provided that we give no juſt Occaſion for them. We might produce an Example of it in the Behaviour of one in whom it appeared in all its Majeſty, and one, whoſe Si⯑lence, as well as his Perſon, was altogether Di⯑vine. When one conſiders this Subject only in its Sublimity, this great Inſtance could not but occur to me; and ſince I only make Uſe of it to ſhow the higheſt Example of it, I hope I do not offend [95] in it. To forbear replying to an unjuſt Reproach, and overlook it with a generous, or (if poſſible) with an entire Neglect of it, is one of the moſt heroick Acts of a great Mind: And I muſt con⯑feſs, when I reflect upon the Behaviour of ſome of the greateſt Men in Antiquity, I do not ſo much admire them that they deſerved the Praiſe of the whole Age they lived in, as becauſe they con⯑temned the Envy and Detraction of it.

All that is incumbent on a Man of Worth, who ſuffers under ſo ill a Treatment, is to lie by for ſome Time in Silence and Obſcurity, till the Pre⯑judice of the Times be over, and his Reputation cleared. I have often read with a great deal of Pleaſure a Legacy of the famous Lord Bacon, one of the greateſt Genius's that our own or any Country has produced: After having bequeathed his Soul, Body, and Eſtate, in the uſual Form, he adds, ‘'My Name and Memory I leave to Foreign Nations, and to my Countrymen, after ſome Time be paſſed over.'’

At the ſame Time that I recommend this Philo⯑ſophy to others, I muſt confeſs, I am ſo poor a Proficient in it my ſelf, that if in the Courſe of my Lucubrations it happens, as it has done more than once, that my Paper is duller than in Con⯑ſcience it ought to be, I think the Time an Age till I have an Opportunity of putting out another, and growing famous again for Two Days.

I muſt not cloſe my Diſcourſe upon Silence, without informing my Reader, That I have by me an elaborate Treatiſe on the Apoſiopeſis called an Et caetera, it being a Figure much uſed by ſome learned Authors, and particularly by the great Littleton, who, as my Lord Chief Juſtice Coke ob⯑ſerves, had a moſt admirable Talent at an &c.

I WAS awakened very early this Morning by the diſtant Crowing of a Cock, which I thought had the fineſt Pipe I ever heard. He ſeemed to me to ſtrain his Voice more than ordi⯑nary, as if he deſigned to make himſelf heard to the remoteſt Corner of this Lane. Having enter⯑tained my ſelf a little before I went to Bed with a Diſcourſe on the Tranſmigration of Men into other Animals, I could not but fancy that this was the Soul of ſome drowſy Bell-man who uſed to ſleep upon his Poſt, for which he was con⯑demned to do Pennance in Feathers, and diſtin⯑guiſh the ſeveral Watches of the Night under the Outſide of a Cock. While I was thinking of the Condition of this poor Bell-man in Maſ⯑querade, I heard a great Knocking at my Door, and was ſoon after told by my Maid, That my worthy Friend the tall black Gentleman, who frequents the Coffee-houſes hereabouts, deſired [98] to ſpeak with me. This ancient Pythagorean, who has as much Honeſty as any Man living, but good Nature to an Exceſs, brought me the following Petition, which I am apt to believe he penned himſelf, the Pititioner not being able to expreſs his Mind in Paper under his preſent Form, however famous he might have been for writing Verſes when he was in his original Shape.

[99] Upon Delivery of this Petition, the worthy Gentleman who preſented it, told me the Cu⯑ſtoms of many wiſe Nations of the Eaſt, through which he had travelled; That nothing was more frequent than to ſee a Dervees lay out a whole Year's Income in the Redemption of Larks or Linets that had unhappily fallen into the Hands of Bird-Catchers: That it was alſo uſual to run between a Dog and a Bull to keep them from hurting one another, or to loſe the Uſe of a Limb in parting a Couple of furious Maſtiffs. He then inſiſted upon the Ingratitude and Diſin⯑genuity of treating in this Manner a neceſſary and Domeſtick Animal, that has made the whole Houſe keep good Hours, and called up the Cook-Maid for five Years together. What would a Turk ſay, continued he, ſhould he hear, that it is a common Entertainment in a Nation which pretends to be one of the moſt ci⯑vilized of Europe, to tie an innocent Animal to a Stake, and put him to an ignominious Death, who has perhaps been the Guardian and Prove⯑ditor of a poor Family, as long as he was able to get Eggs for his Miſtreſs.

I thought what this Gentleman ſaid was very reaſonable; and have often wondered, that we do not lay aſide a Cuſtom which makes us appear barbarous to Nations much more rude and unpo⯑liſhed than our ſelves. Some French Writers have repreſented this Diverſion of the common People much to our Diſadvantage, and imputed it to natural Fierceneſs and Cruelty of Temper; as they do ſome other Entertainments peculiar to our Nation: I mean thoſe elegant Diverſions of Bull-baiting and Prize-fighting, with the like ingenious Recreations of the Bear-Garden. I wiſh I knew how to anſwer this Reproach which is caſt upon us, and excuſe the Death of ſo many innocent Cocks, Bulls, Dogs, and [100] Bears, as have been ſet together by the Ears, or died untimely Deaths, only to make us Sport.

It will be ſaid, That theſe are the Entertain⯑ments of common People. It is true; but they are the Entertainments of no other common People. Beſides, I am afraid there is a Tincture of the ſame ſavage Spirit in the Diverſions of thoſe of higher Rank, and more refined Reliſh. Rapine obſerves, That the Engliſh Theatre very much delights in Bloodſhed, which he likewiſe repreſents as an Indication of our Tempers. I muſt own, there is ſomething very horrid in the publick Executions of an Engliſh Tragedy. Stab⯑bing and Poiſoning, which are performed behind the Scenes in other Nations, muſt be done openly among us, to gratify the Audience.

When poor Sandford was upon the Stage, I have ſeen him groaning upon a Wheel, ſtuck with Daggers, impaled alive, calling his Execu⯑tioners, with a dying Voice, Cruel Dogs and Villains! And all this to pleaſe his judicious Spectators, who were wonderfully delighted with ſeeing a Man in Torment ſo well acted. The Truth of it is, the Politeneſs of our Engliſh Stage, in Regard to Decorum, is very extraordinary. We act Murders to ſhow our Intrepidity, and Adulteries to ſhow our Gallantry: Both of them are frequent in our moſt taking Plays, with this Difference only, That the Firſt are done in the Sight of the Audience, and the other wrought up to ſuch an Height upon the Stage, that they are almoſt put in Execution before the Actors can get behind the Scenes.

I would not have it thought, that there is juſ [...] Ground for thoſe Conſequences which our Ene⯑mies draw againſt us from theſe Practiſes; bu [...] methinks one would be ſorry for any Manner o [...] Occaſion for ſuch Miſrepreſentations of us. Th [...] Virtues of Tenderneſs, Compaſſion, and Huma⯑nity, are thoſe by which Men are diſtinguiſh' [...] [101] from Brutes, as much as by Reaſon it ſelf; and it would be the greateſt Reproach to a Nation to diſtinguiſh it ſelf from all others by any De⯑fect in theſe particular Virtues. For which Rea⯑ſons, I hope that my dear Countrymen will no longer expoſe themſelves by an Effuſion of Blood, whether it be of Theatrical Heroes, Cocks, or any other innocent Animals, which we are not obliged to ſlaughter for our Safety, Convenience, or Nouriſhment. Where any of theſe Ends are not ſerv'd in the Deſtruction of a living Crea⯑ture, I cannot but pronounce it a great Piece of Cruelty, if not a kind of Murder.

SEveral Letters which I have lately received give me Information, That ſome well-diſ⯑poſed Perſons have taken Offence at my uſing the Word Free-Thinker as a Term of Reproach. To ſet therefore this Matter in a clear Light, I muſt declare, That no one can have a greater Veneration than my ſelf for the Free-Thinkers of Antiquity, who acted the ſame Part in thoſe Times, as the great Men of the Reformation did in ſeveral Nations of Europe, by exerting them⯑ſelves [102] againſt the Idolatry and Superſtition of the Times in which they lived. It was by this noble Impulſe that Socrates and his Diſciples, as well as all the Philoſophers of Note in Greece, and Cicero, Seneca, with all the Learned Men of Rome, endeavoured to enlighten their Contem⯑poraries amidſt the Darkneſs and Ignorance in which the World was then ſunk and buried. The great Points which theſe Free-Thinkers en⯑deavoured to eſtabliſh and inculcate into the Minds of Men, was, the Formation of the Uni⯑verſe, the Superintendency of Providence, the Perfection of the Divine Nature, the Immorta⯑lity of the Soul, and the future State of Rewards and Puniſhments. They all complied with the Religion of their Country, as much as poſſible, in ſuch Particulars as did not contradict and per⯑vert theſe great and fundamental Doctrines of Mankind. On the contrary, the Perſons who now ſet up for Free-Thinkers, are ſuch as endea⯑vour by a little Traſh of Words and Sophiſtry, to weaken and deſtroy thoſe very Principles, for the Vindication of which, Freedom of Thought at firſt became laudable and heroick. Theſe Apoſtates, from Reaſon and good Senſe, can look at the glorious Frame of Nature, with⯑out paying an Adoration to him that raiſed it; can conſider the great Revolutions in the Univerſe, without lifting up their Minds to that Superior Power which hath the Direction of it; can preſume to cenſure the Deity in his Ways to⯑wards Men; can level Mankind with the Beaſts that periſh; can extinguiſh in their own Minds all the pleaſing Hopes of a future State, and lull themſelves into a ſtupid Security againſt the Terrors of it. If one were to take the Word Prieſtcraft out of the Mouths of theſe ſhallow Monſters, they would be immediately ſtruck dumb. It is by the Help of this ſingle Term that they endeavour to diſappoint the good [103] Works of the moſt Learned and Venerable Order of Men, and harden the Hearts of the Igno⯑rant againſt the very Light of Nature, and the common received Notions of Mankind. We ought not to treat ſuch Miſcreants as theſe upon the Foot of fair Diſputants, but to pour out Con⯑tempt upon them, and ſpeak of them with Scorn and Infamy, as the Peſts of Society, the Revilers of Humane Nature, and the Blaſphemers of a Being, whom a good Man would rather die than hear diſhonoured. Cicero, after having men⯑tioned the great Heroes of Knowledge that re⯑commended this Divine Doctrine of the Immor⯑tality of the Soul, calls thoſe ſmall Pretenders to Wiſdom who declared againſt it, certain Minute Philoſophers, uſing a Diminutive even of the Word Little, to expreſs the deſpicable Opinion he had of them. The Contempt he throws up⯑on them in another Paſſage is yet more remarka⯑ble, where, to ſhow the mean Thoughts he entertains of them, he declares, he would rather be in the Wrong with Plato, than in the Right with ſuch Company. There is indeed nothing in the World ſo ridiculous as one of theſe grave Philoſophical Free-Thinkers, that hath neither Paſſions nor Appetites to gratify, no Heats of Blood nor Vigour of Conſtitution that can turn his Syſtems of Infidelity to his Advantage, or raiſe Pleaſures out of them which are incon⯑ſiſtent with the Belief of an Hereafter. One that has neither Wit, Gallantry, Mirth, or Youth, to indulge by theſe Notions, but only a poor, joyleſs uncomfortable Vanity of diſtin⯑guiſhing himſelf from the reſt of Mankind, is rather to be regarded as a Miſchievous Luna⯑tick, than a miſtaken Philoſopher. A chaſt In⯑fidel, a ſpeculative Libertine, is an Animal that I ſhould not believe to be in Nature, did I not ſometimes meet with this Species of Men, that plead for the Indulgence of their Paſſions in the [104] midſt of a ſevere ſtudious Life, and talk a⯑gainſt the Immortality of the Soul over a Diſh of Coffee.

I would fain ask a Minute Philoſopher, What Good he propoſes to Mankind by the publiſhing of his Doctrines? Will they make a Man a bet⯑ter Citizen, or Father of a Family; a more en⯑dearing Husband, Friend, or Son? Will they en⯑large his publick or private Virtues, or correct any of his Frailties or Vices? What is there ei⯑ther joyful or glorious in ſuch Opinions? Do they either refreſh or enlarge our Thoughts? Do they contribute to the Happineſs, or raiſe the Dignity of Humane Nature? The only Good that I have ever heard pretended to, is, That they baniſh Terrors, and ſet the Mind at Eaſe. But whoſe Terrors do they baniſh? It is certain, if there were any Strength in their Arguments, they would give great Diſturbance to Minds that are influenc'd by Virtue, Honour, and Mora⯑lity, and take from us the only Comforts and Supports of Affliction, Sickneſs, and Old Age. The Minds therefore which they ſet at Eaſe, are only thoſe of impenitent Criminals and Male⯑factors, and which, to the Good of Mankind, ſhould be in perpetual Terror and Alarm.

I muſt confeſs, nothing is more uſual than for a Free-Thinker, in Proportion as the Inſolence of Scepticiſm is abated in him by Years and Know⯑ledge, or humbled and beaten down by Sorrow or Sickneſs, to reconcile himſelf to the general Conceptions of reaſonable Creatures; ſo that we frequently ſee the Apoſtates turning from their Revolt toward the End of their Lives, and employing the Refuſe of their Parts in promoting thoſe Truths which they had before endeavoured to invalidate.

The Hiſtory of a Gentleman in France is very well known, who was ſo zealous a Promoter of [105] Infidelity, that he had got together a ſelect Com⯑pany of Diſciples, and travelled into all Parts of the Kingdom to make Converts. In the Midſt of his fantaſtical Succeſs he fell ſick, and was reclaimed to ſuch a Senſe of his Condition, that after he had paſſed ſome Time in great Agonies and Horrors of Mind, he begged thoſe who had the Care of burying him, to dreſs his Body in the Habit of a Capuchin, that the Devil might not run away with it. And to do further Juſtice upon himſelf, deſired 'em to tie an Halter about his Neck, as a Mark of that ignominious Puniſhment, which in his own Thoughts he had ſo juſtly deſerved.

I would not have Perſecution ſo far diſgraced, as to wiſh theſe Vermin might be animadverted on by any Legal Penalties; tho' I think it would be highly reaſonable, that thoſe few of them who die in the Profeſſions of their Infidelity, ſhould have ſuch Tokens of Infamy fixed upon them, as might diſtinguiſh thoſe Bodies which are given up by the Owners to Oblivion and Putrefaction, from thoſe which reſt in Hope, and ſhall riſe in Glory. But at the ſame Time that I am againſt doing them the Honour of the Notice of our Laws, which ought not to ſup⯑poſe there are ſuch Criminals in Being, I have often wondered, how they can be tolerated in any mixed Converſations while they are vent⯑ing theſe abſurd Opinions; and ſhould think, that if on any ſuch Occaſion, half a Dozen of the moſt roburſt Chriſtians in the Company would lead one of theſe Gentlemen to a Pump, or convey him into a Blanket, they would do very good Service both to Church and State. I do not know how the Laws ſtand in this Parti⯑cular; but I hope, whatever Knocks, Bangs or Thumps, might be given with ſuch an honeſt Intention, would not be conſtrued as a Breach of the Peace. I dare ſay, they would not be [106] returned by the Perſon who receives them; for whatever theſe Fools may ſay in the Vanity of their Hearts, they are too wiſe to riſque their Lives upon the Uncertainty of their Opinions.

When I was a young Man about this Town, I frequented the Ordinary of the Black-Horſe in Holbourn, where the Perſon that uſually preſided at the Table was a rough old-faſhioned Gentle⯑man, who, according to the Cuſtom of thoſe Times, had been the Major and Preacher of a Regiment. It happened one Day that a noiſy young Officer, bred in France, was venting ſome new-frangled Notions, and ſpeaking, in the Gaiety of his Humour, againſt the Diſpenſations of Providence. The Major at firſt only deſired him to talk more reſpectfully of one for whom all the Company had an Honour; but finding him run on in his Extravagance, began to repri⯑mand him after a more ſerious Manner. Young Man, ſaid he, do not abuſe your Benefactor whilſt you are eating his Bread. Conſider whoſe Air you breathe, whoſe Preſence you are in, and who it is that gave you the Power of that very Speech which you make uſe of to his Diſhonour. The young Fellow, who thought to turn Mat⯑ters into a Jeſt, asked him, if he was going to preach? But at the ſame Time deſired him to take Care what he ſaid when he ſpoke to a Man of Honour. A Man of Honour, ſays the Major, Thou art an Infidel and a Blaſphemer, and I ſhall uſe thee as ſuch. In ſhort, the Quarrel ran ſo high, that the Major was deſired to walk out. Upon their coming into the Garden, the old Fellow adviſed his Antagoniſt to conſider the Place into which one Paſs might drive him; but finding him grow upon him to a Degree of Scurrility, as believing the Advice proceeded from Fear; Sirrah, ſays he, If a Thunderbolt does not ſtrike the dead before I come at thee, I ſhall not fail to chaſtiſe thee for thy Profane⯑neſs [107] to thy Maker, and thy Sawcineſs to his Ser⯑vant. Upon this he drew his Sword, and cried out with a loud Voice, The Sword of the Lord and of Gideon; which ſo terrified his Antagoniſt, that he was immediately diſarmed, and thrown upon his Knees. In this Poſture he begged his Life; but the Major refuſed to grant it, before he had asked Pardon for his Offence in a ſhort extemporary Prayer which the old Gentleman dictated to him upon the Spot, and which his Proſelyte repeated after him in the Preſence of the whole Ordinary, that were now gathered about him in the Garden.

The Hiſtory of Tom. Varniſh.

BECAUSE I have a profeſſed Averſion to long Beginnings of Stories, I will go into this at once, by telling you, That there dwells near the Royal-Exchange as happy a Couple as ever enter'd into Wedlock. Theſe live in that mutual Confidence of each other, which renders the Satisfactions of Marriage even greater than thoſe of Friendſhip, and makes Wife and Huſ⯑band the deareſt Appellations of Humane Life. Mr. Ballance is a Merchant of good Conſidera⯑tion, and underſtands the World not from Spe⯑culation, but Practice. His Wife is the Daugh⯑ter of an honeſt Houſe, ever bred in a Family-Way; and has, from a natural good Underſtand⯑ng, and great Innocence, a Freedom which [108] Men of Senſe know to be the certain Sign of Virtue, and Fools take to be an Encouragement to Vice.

Tom. Varniſh, a young Gentleman of the Middle-Temple, by the Bounty of a good Father who was ſo obliging as to die, and leave him in his Twenty fourth Year, beſides a good Eſtate, a large Sum, which lay in the Hands of Mr. Bal⯑lance, had by this Means an Intimacy at his Houſe; and being one of thoſe hard Students who read Plays for Improvement in the Law, took his Rules of Life from thence. Upon mature Deliberation, he conceived it very proper, that he, as a Man of Wit and Pleaſure of the Town, ſhould have an Intrigue with his Merchant's Wife. He no ſooner thought of this Adventure, but he began it by an amorous Epiſtle to the Lady, and a faithful Promiſe to wait upon her, at a certain Hour the next Evening, when he knew her Husband was to be abſent.

The Letter was no ſooner received, but it was communicated to the Husband, and produced no other Effect in him, than that he joined with his Wife to raiſe all the Mirth they could out of this fantaſtical Piece of Gallantry. They were ſo little concerned at this dangerous Man of Mode, that they plotted Ways to perplex him without hurting him. Varniſh comes exactly at his Hour; and the Lady's well acted Confuſion at his En⯑trance, gave him Opportunity to repeat ſome Couplets very fit for the Occaſion with very much Grace and Spirit. His Theatrical Manner of making Love was interrupted by an Alarm of the Husband's coming; and the Wife, in a per⯑ſonated Terror, beſeeched him, If he had any Value for the Honour of a Woman that loved him, he would jump out of the Window. He did ſo, and fell upon Feather-Beds placed on purpoſe to receive him.

[109] It is not to be conceived how great the Joy of an amorous Man is when he has ſuffered for his Miſtreſs, and is never the worſe for it. Varniſh the next Day writ a moſt elegant Billet, where⯑in he ſaid all that Imagination could form upon the Occaſion. He violently proteſted, going out of the Window was no Way terrible, but as it was going from her; with ſeveral other kind Ex⯑preſſions, which procured him a Second Aſſigna⯑tion. Upon his ſecond Viſit, he was conveyed by a faithful Maid into her Bed-Chamber, and left there to expect the Arrival of her Miſtreſs. But the Wench, according to her Inſtructions, ran in again to him, and locked the Door after her to keep out her Maſter. She had juſt Time enough to convey the Lover into a Cheſt be⯑fore ſhe admitted the Husband and his Wife into the Room.

You may be ſure that Trunk was abſolutely neceſſary to be open'd; but upon her Husband's ordering it, ſhe aſſured him, ſhe had taken all the Care imaginable in packing up the Things with her own Hand, and he might ſend the Trunk aboard as ſoon as he thought fit. The eaſie Husband believed his Wife, and the good Couple went to Bed; Varniſh having the Hap⯑pineſs to paſs the Night in his Miſtreſs's Bed-Chamber without Moleſtation. The Morning aroſe, but our Lover was not well ſituated to ob⯑ſerve her Bluſhes; ſo that all we know of his Sentiments on this Occaſion, is, That he heard Ballance ask for the Key, and ſay, he would himſelf go with this Cheſt, and have it opened before the Captain of the Ship, for the greater Safety of ſo valuable a Lading.

The Goods were hoiſted away, and Mr. Bal⯑lance marching by his Cheſt with great Care and Diligence, omitted nothing that might give his Paſſenger Perplexity. But to conſummate all, he delivered the Cheſt, with ſtrict Charge, [110] in caſe they were in Danger of being taken, to throw it over-board, for there were Letters in it, the Matter of which might be of great Service to the Enemy.

N. B. It is not thought adviſable to proceed further in this Account, Mr. Varniſh being juſt returned from his Travels, and willing to con⯑ceal the Occaſion of his firſt applying himſelf to the Languages.

This Day came in a Mail from Holland, with a Confirmation of our late Advices, That a Treaty of Peace would very ſuddenly be ſet on Foot, and that Yachts were appointed by the States to con⯑vey the Miniſters of France from Moerdyke to Ger⯑truydenburgh, which is appointed for the Place wherein this important Negotiation is to be tranſ⯑acted. It is ſaid, This Affair has been in Agita⯑tion ever ſince the Cloſe of the laſt Campaign; Monſieur Petticum having been appointed to re⯑ceive from Time to Time the Overtures of the Enemy. During the whole Winter, the Mini⯑ſters of France have uſed their utmoſt Skill in forming ſuch Anſwers as might amuſe the Allies, in Hopes of a favourable Event; either in the North, or ſome other Part of Europe, which might affect ſome Part of the Alliance too nearly to leave it in a Capacity of adhering firmly to the Intereſt of the whole. In all this Tranſaction, the French King's own Name has been as little made uſe of as poſſible: But the Seaſon of the Year advancing too faſt to admit of much longer Delays in the preſent Condition of France, Monſieur Torci, in the Name of the King, ſent a Letter to Monſieur Petticum, where⯑in he ſays, That the King is willing all the Preli⯑minary Articles ſhall reſt as they are during the Treaty for the 37th.

Upon the Receipt of this Advice, Paſſports were ſent to the French Court, and their Mini⯑ſters [111] are expected at Mierdyke on the 5th of the next Month.

I have been earneſtly ſolicited for a further Term, for wearing the Fardingal by ſeveral of the Fair Sex, but more eſpecially by the following Petitioners.

I do allow the Allegations of this Petition to be juſt, and forbid all Perſons but the Peti⯑tioners, or thoſe who ſhall purchaſe from them, to wear the ſaid Garment after the Date hereof.

DICK Reptile and I ſat this Evening later than the reſt of the Club; and as ſome Men are better Company when only with one Friend, others when there is a large Number, I found Dick to be of the former Kind. He was bewailing to me in very juſt Terms, the Offences which he frequently met with in the Abuſe of Speech: Some uſe Ten Times more Words than they need, ſome put in Words quite foreign to their Purpoſe, and others adorn their Diſcourſes with Oaths and Blaſphemies by Way of Tropes and Figures. What my good Friend ſtarted, dwelt upon me after I came Home this Evening, and led me into an Enquiry with my ſelf, Whence ſhould ariſe ſuch ſtrange Excreſcencies in Diſ⯑courſe? Whereas it muſt be obvious to all rea⯑ſonable Beings, That the ſooner a Man ſpeaks his Mind, the more complaiſant he is to the Man with whom he talks: But upon mature Delibe⯑ration, I am come to this Reſolution, That for One Man who ſpeaks to be underſtood, there are Ten who talk only to be admired.

The ancient Greeks had little independent Sylla⯑bles called Expletives, which they brought into their Diſcourſes both in Verſe and Proſe, for no other Purpoſe but for the better Grace and Sound of their Sentences and Periods. I know no Ex⯑ample but this which can authoriſe the Uſe of [113] more Words than are neceſſary. But whether it be from this Freedom taken by that wiſe Nation, or however it ariſes, Dick Reptile hit upon a very juſt and common Cauſe of Offence in the Generality of the People of all Orders. We have one here in our Lane who ſpeaks nothing without quoting an Authority; for it is always with him, So and ſo, as the Man ſaid. He asked me this Morning, How I did? as the Man ſaid; and hoped I would come now and then to ſee him, as the Man ſaid. I am acquainted with another, who never deli⯑vers himſelf upon any Subject, but he cries. He only ſpeaks his poor Judgment; this is his hum⯑ble Opinion; or as for his Part, if he might pre⯑ſume to offer any Thing on that Subject. But of all the Perſons who add Elegancies and Superflui⯑ties to their Diſcourſes, thoſe who deſerve the foremoſt Rank, are the Swearers; and the Lump of theſe may, I think, be very aptly divided into the common Diſtinction of High and Low. Dulneſs and Barrenneſs of Thought is the Original of it in both theſe Sects, and they differ only in Con⯑ſtitution: The Low is generally a phlegmatick, and the High a cholerick Coxcomb. The Man of Phlegm is ſenſible of the Emptineſs of his Diſcourſe, and will tell you, That Pſackins, ſuch a Thing is true: Or if you warm him a little, he may run into Paſſion, and cry, Odsbodikins, you do not ſay right. But the High affects a Sublimity in Dulneſs, and invokes Hell and Dam⯑nation at the Breaking of a Glaſs, or the Slow⯑neſs of a Drawer.

I was the other Day trudging along Fleetſtreet on Foot, and an old Army-Friend came up with me. We were both going towards Weſtminſter, and finding the Streets were ſo crowded that we could not keep together, we reſolved to club for a Coach. This Gentleman I knew to be the Firſt of the Order of the Cholerick. I muſt con⯑feſs, (were there no Crime in it) nothing could [114] be more diverting than the Impertinence of the High Juror: For whether there is Remedy or not againſt what offends him, ſtill he is to ſhow he is offended; and he muſt ſure not omit to be magnificently paſſionate, by falling on all Things in his Way. We were ſtopped by a Train of Coaches at Temple-Bar. What the Devil! (ſays my Companion) cannot you drive on Coachman? D—n you all, for a Set of Sons of Whores, you will ſtop here to be paid by the Hour! There is not ſuch a Set of confounded Dogs as the Coachmen unhang'd! But theſe raſcally Cits—'Ounds, why ſhould not there be a Tax to make theſe Dogs widen their Gates? Oh! but the Hell-hounds move at laſt. Ay, ſaid I, I knew you wou'd make 'em whip on if once they heard you—No, ſays he; but would it not fret a Man to the De⯑vil, to pay for being carried ſlower than he can walk. Lookee, there is for ever a Stop at this Hole by St. Clement's Church. Blood, you Dog!—Harkee, Sirrah,—Why, and be d—n'd to you, do not you drive over that Fellow?—Thunder, Furies, and Damnation! I'll cut your Ears off, you Fellow before there.—Come hither, you Dog you, and let me ring your Neck round your Shoulders. We had a Repetition of the ſame Eloquence at the Cockpit, and the Turning into Palace-Yard.

This gave me a perfect Image of the Inſignifi⯑cancy of the Creatures who practiſe this Enor⯑mity; and made me conclude, That it is ever Want of Senſe makes a Man guilty in this Kind. It was excellently well ſaid, That this Folly had no Temptation to excuſe it, no Man being born of a Swearing Conſtitution. In a Word, a few rumbling Words and Conſonants clapped toge⯑ther, without any Senſe, will make an accom⯑pliſhed Swearer: And it is needleſs to dwell long upon this Bluſtring Impertinence, which is already baniſhed out of the Society of well-bred [115] Men, and can be uſeful only to Bullies and ill Tragick Writers, who would have Sound and Noiſe paſs for Courage and Senſe.

There arrived a Meſſenger laſt Night from Har⯑wich, who left that Place juſt as the Duke of Marlborough was going on board. The Character of this important General going out by the Com⯑mand of his Queen, and at the Requeſt of his Country, put me in Mind of that noble Figure which Shakeſpear gives Harry the Fifth upon his Expedition againſt France. The Poet wiſhes for Abilities to repreſent ſo great an Hero.

A Conqueror drawn like the God of Battle, with ſuch a dreadful Leaſh of Hell-hounds at his Command, makes a Picture of as much Ma⯑jeſty and Terror, as is to be met with in any Poet.

Shakeſpear underſtood the Force of this parti⯑cular Allegory ſo well, that he had it in his Thoughts in another Paſſage, which is altogether as Daring and Sublime as the former. What I mean, is in the Tragedy of Julius Caeſar, where Antony, after having foretold the Bloodſhed and Deſtruction that ſhould be brought upon the Earth by the Death of that great Man; to fill up the Horror of his Deſcription, adds the follow⯑ing Verſes:

I do not queſtion but theſe Quotations will call to Mind in my Readers of Learning and Taſt, [116] that imaginary Perſon deſcribed by Virgil with the ſame Spirit. He mentions it upon the Occa⯑ſion of a Peace which was reſtored to the Roman Empire, and which we may now hope for from the Departure of that great Man who has given Occaſion to theſe Reflections. The Temple of Janus (ſays he) ſhall be ſhut, and in the Midſt of it Military Fury ſhall ſit upon a Pile of broken Arms, loaded with an Hundred Chains, bellow⯑ing with Madneſs, and grinding his Teeth in Blood.

IT is an Argument of a clear and worthy. Spi⯑rit in a Man, to be able to diſengage himſelf from the Opinions of others, ſo far as not to let the Deference due to the Senſe of Mankind in⯑ſnare him to act againſt the Dictates of his own Reaſon. But the Generality of the World are ſo far from walking by any ſuch Maxim, that it is almoſt a ſtanding Rule to do as others do, or be ridiculous. I have heard my old Friend Mr. Hart ſpeak it as an Obſervation among the Players, That it is impoſſible to act with Grace, except the Actor has forgot that he is before an Audience. Till he has arrived at that, his Motion, his Air, his every Step and Geſture, has ſomething in them which diſcovers he is under a Reſtraint for Fear of being ill received; or if he conſiders himſelf as in the Preſence of thoſe who approve his Behaviour, you ſee an Affectation of that Pleaſure run through his whole Carriage. It is as common in Life, as upon the Stage, to behold a Man in the moſt indifferent Action betray a Senſe he has of doing what he is about gracefully. Some have ſuch an immoderate Reliſh for Ap⯑plauſe, that they expect it for Things, which in themſelves are ſo frivolous, that it is impoſſible, without this Affectation, to make them appear worthy either of Blame or Praiſe. There is Will Glare, ſo paſſionately intent upon being admired, [118] that when you ſee him in publick Places, every Muſcle of his Face diſcovers his Thoughts are fixed upon the Conſideration of what Figure he makes. He will often fall into a muſing Poſture to attract Obſervation, and is then obtruding himſelf upon the Company when he pretends to be withdrawn from it. Such little Arts are the certain and infallible Tokens of a ſuperficial Mind, as the avoiding Obſervation is the Sign of a great and ſublime one. It is therefore extreme⯑ly difficult for a Man to judge even of his own Actions, without forming to himſelf an Idea of what he ſhould act, were it in his Power to exe⯑cute all his Deſires without the Obſervation of the reſt of the World. There is an Allegorical Fable in Plato, which ſeems to admoniſh us, That we are very little acquainted with our ſelves, while we know our Actions are to paſs the Cen⯑ſures of others; but had we the Power to accom⯑pliſh all our Wiſhes unobſerved, we ſhould then eaſily inform our ſelves how far we are poſſeſſed of Real and Intrinſick Virtue. The Fable I was go⯑ing to mention, is that of Gyges, who is ſaid to have had an inchanted Ring, which had in it a miraculous Quality, making him who wore it viſible or inviſible, as he turned it to or from his Body. The Uſe Gyges made of his occaſional In⯑viſibility, was, by the Advantage of it, to vio⯑late a Queen, and murder a King. Tully takes Notice of this Allegory, and ſays very handſom⯑ly, That a Man of Honour who had ſuch a Ring, would act juſt in the ſame Manner as he would do without it. It is indeed no ſmall Pitch of Virtue under the Temptation of Impunity, and the Hopes of accompliſhing all a Man's Deſires, not to tranſgreſs the Rules of Juſtice and Virtue; but this is rather not being an ill Man, than be⯑ing poſitively a good one; and it ſeems wonder⯑ful, that ſo great a Soul as that of Tully, ſhould not form to himſelf a Thouſand worthy Actions [119] which a virtuous Mind would be prompted to by the Poſſeſſion of ſuch a Secret. There are cer⯑tainly ſome Part of Mankind who are Guardian Beings to the other. Salluſt could ſay of Cato, That he had rather be than appear good; but in⯑deed, this Eulogium roſe no higher than (as I juſt now hinted) to an Inoffenſiveneſs, rather than an active Virtue. Had it occurred to the noble Ora⯑tor to repreſent, in his Language, the glorious Pleaſures of a Man ſecretly employed in Benefi⯑cence and Generoſity, it would certainly have made a more charming Page than any he has now left behind him. How might a Man, fur⯑niſhed with Gyges's Secret, employ it in bringing together diſtant Friends, laying Snares for crea⯑ting Good-will in the room of groundleſs Hatred; in removing the Pangs of an unjuſt Jealouſy, the Shyneſs of an imperfect Reconciliation, and the Tremor of an awful Love? Such a one could give Confidence to baſhful Merit, and Confuſion to over-bearing Impudence.

Certain it is, That ſecret Kindneſſes done to Mankind, are as beautiful as ſecret Injuries are deteſtable. To be inviſibly good, is as God-like, as to be inviſibly ill, Diabolical. As degenerate as we are apt to ſay the Age we live in is, there are ſtill amongſt us Men of illuſtrious Minds, who enjoy all the Pleaſures of good Actions, except that of being commended for them. There happens among others very worthy Inſtan⯑ces of a publick Spirit, one of which I am obli⯑ged to diſcover, becauſe I know not otherwiſe how to obey the Commands of the Benefactor. A Citizen of London has given Directions to Mr. Rainer, the Writing Maſter of Paul's School, to educate at his Charge Ten Boys (who ſhall be nominated by me) in Writing and Accompts, till they ſhall be fit for any Trade. I deſire there⯑fore ſuch as know any proper Objects for re⯑ceiving this Bounty, to give Notice thereof to [120] Mr. Morphew, or Mr. Lillie, and they ſhall, if properly qualified, have Inſtructions accordingly.

Actions of this Kind have in them ſomething ſo tranſcendent, that it is an Injury to applaud them, and a Diminution of that Merit which conſiſts in ſhunning our Approbation. We ſhall therefore leave them to enjoy that glorious Ob⯑ſcurity, and ſilently admire their Virtue, who can contemn the moſt delicious of Humane Plea⯑ſures, that of receiving due Praiſe. Such Cele⯑ſtial Diſpoſitions very juſtly ſuſpend the Diſ⯑covery of their Benefactions, till they come where their Actions cannot be miſinterpreted, and receive their firſt Congratulations in the Com⯑pany of Angels.

WHEN I reflect upon the many Nights I have ſat up for ſome Months laſt paſt in the greateſt Anxiety for the Good of my Neigh⯑bours and Contemporaries, it is no ſmall Diſcou⯑ragement to me, to ſee how ſlow a Progreſs I make in the Reformation of the World. But in⯑deed I muſt do my Female Readers the Juſtice to own, that their tender Hearts are much more ſuſceptible of good Impreſſions, than the Minds of the other Sex. Buſineſs and Ambition take up Men's Thoughts too much to leave Room for Philoſophy: But if you ſpeak to Women in a Style and Manner proper to approach them, they never fail to improve by your Counſel. I ſhall therefore for the future turn my Thoughts more particularly to their Service, and ſtudy the beſt Methods to adorn their Perſons, and inform their Minds in the juſteſt Methods to make them what [122] Nature deſigned them, the moſt beauteous Ob⯑jects of our Eyes, and the moſt agreeable Com⯑panions of our Lives. But when I ſay this, I muſt not omit at the ſame Time to look into their Errors and Miſtakes, that being the readieſt Way to the intended End of adorning and in⯑ſtructing them. It muſt be acknowledged, That the very Inadvertencies of this Sex are owing to the other; for if Men were not Flatterers, Wo⯑men could not fall into that general Cauſe of all their Follies, and our Misfortunes, their Love of Flattery. Were the Commendation of theſe a⯑greeable Creatures built upon its proper Founda⯑tion, the higher we raiſed their Opinion of them⯑ſelves, the greater would be the Advantage to our Sex; but all the Topick of Praiſe is drawn from very ſenſeleſs and extravagant Idea's we pretend we have of their Beauty and Perfection. Thus when a young Man falls in Love with a young Woman, from that Moment ſhe is no more Mrs. Alice ſuch a one, born of ſuch a Fa⯑ther, and educated by ſuch a Mother, but from the firſt Minute that he caſt his Eye upon her with Deſire, he conceives a Doubt in his Mind, What Heavenly Power gave ſo unexpected a Blow to an Heart that was ever before untouched. But who can reſiſt Fate and Deſtiny, which are lodged in Mrs. Alice's Eyes? After which he de⯑ſires Orders accordingly, Whether he is to live or breath; the Smile or Frown of his Goddeſs is the only Thing that can now either ſave or de⯑ſtroy him. By this Means, the well-humoured Girl, that would have romped with him before ſhe received this Declaration, aſſumes a State ſuitable to the Majeſty he has given her, and treats him as the Vaſſal he calls himſelf. The Girl's Head is immediately turned by having the Power of Life and Death, and takes Care to ſuit every Motion and Air to her new Sovereignty. After he has placed himſelf at this Diſtance, he [123] muſt never hope to recover his former Familiarity, till ſhe has had the Addreſſes of another, and found them leſs ſincere.

If the Application to Women were juſtly turn⯑ed, the Addreſs of Flattery, tho' it implied at the ſame Time an Admonition, would be much more likely to ſucceed. Should a captivated Lover, in a Billet, let his Miſtreſs know, That her Piety to her Parents, her Gentleneſs of Behaviour, her prudent Oeconomy with reſpect to her own lit⯑tle Affairs in a Virgin Condition, had improved the Paſſion which her Beauty had inſpired him with, into ſo ſettled an Eſteem for her, that of all Women breathing he wiſhed her his Wifes tho' his commending her for Qualities ſhe knew ſhe had as a Virgin, would make her believe he expected from her an anſwerable Conduct in the Character of a Matron: I will anſwer for it, his Suit would be carried on with leſs Perplexity.

Inſtead of this, the Generality of our young Women, taking all their Notions of Life from gay Writings, or Letters of Love, conſider them⯑ſelves as Goddeſſes, Nymphs, and Shepherdeſ⯑ſes.

By this Romantick Senſe of Things, all the na⯑tural Relations and Duties of Life are forgotten, and our Female Part of Mankind are bred and treated, as if they were deſigned to inhabit the happy Fields of Arcadia, rather than be Wives and Mothers in old England. It is indeed long ſince I had the Happineſs to converſe familiarly with this Sex, and therefore have been fearful of falling into the Error which recluſe Men are very ſubject to, that of giving falſe Repreſenta⯑tions of the World from which they have retired, by imaginary Schemes drawn from their own Re⯑flections. An old Man cannot eaſily gain Admit⯑tance into the Dreſſing-room of Ladies; I therefore thought it Time well ſpent, to turn over Agrippa, and uſe all my occult Art, to give my old Co [...] ⯑nelian [124] Ring the ſame Force with that of Gyges, which I have lately ſpoken of. By the Help of this, I went unobſerved to a Friend's Houſe of mine, and followed the Chamber-maid inviſibly about Twelve of the Clock into the Bed-chamber of the beauteous Flavia, his Fine Daughter, juſt before ſhe got up.

I drew the Curtains, and being wrapped up in the Safety of my old Age, could with much Pleaſure, without Paſſion, behold her ſleeping with Waller's Poems, and a Letter fixed in that Part of him, where every Woman thinks her ſelf deſcribed. The Light flaſhing upon her Face, awakened her: She opened her Eyes, and her Lips too, repeating that Piece of falſe Wit in that admired Poet;

This ſhe pronounced with a moſt bewitching Sweetneſs; but after it fetched a Sigh, that me⯑thought had more Deſire than Languiſhment, then took out her Letter, and read aloud, for the Pleaſure, I ſuppoſe, of hearing ſoft Words in Praiſe of her ſelf, the following Epiſtle:

The Letter was hardly read over, when ſhe ruſh'd out of Bed in her Wrapping-Gown, and conſulted her Glaſs for the Truth of his Paſſion. She raiſed her Head, and turned it to a Profile, repeating the laſt Lines, My Being is ended, which conſiſted only in your Favour. The Goddeſs imme⯑diately called her Maid, and fell to dreſſing that miſchievous Face of hers, without any Manner of Conſideration for the Mortal who had offered up his Petition. Nay, it was ſo far otherwiſe, that the whole Time of her Woman's combing her Hair was ſpent in Diſcourſe of the Imper⯑tinence of his Paſſion, and ended, in declaring a Reſolution, if ſhe ever had him, to make him wait. She alſo frankly told the Favourite Gypſy that was prating to her, that her paſſionate Lo⯑ver had put it out of her Power to be civil to him, if ſhe were inclined to it; for (ſaid ſhe) if I am thus Coeleſtial to my Lover, he will cer⯑tainly ſo far think himſelf diſappointed, as I grow into the Familiarity and Form of a mortal Woman.

I came away as I went in, without ſtaying for other Remarks than what confirmed me in the Opinion, That it is from the Notions the Men inſpire them with, that the Women are ſo fanta⯑ſtical in the Value of themſelves. This ima⯑ginary Pre-eminence which is given to the Fair Sex, is not only form'd from the Addreſſes of People of Condition; but it is the Faſhion and Humour of all Orders to go regularly out of their Wits, as ſoon as they begin to make Love. I know at this Time Three Goddeſſes in the New-Exchange; and there are Two Shepherdeſſes that ſell Gloves in Weſtminſter-Hall.

HAVING the Honour to be by my Great Grandmother a Welſhman, I have been among ſome choice Spirits of that Part of Great Britain, where we ſolaced our ſelves in Cele⯑bration of the Day of St. David. I am, I con⯑feſs, elevated above that State of Mind which is proper for Lucubration: But I am the leſs con⯑cerned at this, becauſe I have for this Day or two laſt paſt obſerved, that we Noveliſts have been condemned wholly to the Paſtry-Cooks, the Eyes of the Nation being turned upon greater Matters. This therefore being a Time when none but my immediate Correſpondents will read me, I ſhall ſpeak to them chiefly at this preſent Writing. It is the Fate of us who pretend to joke, to be frequently underſtood to be only upon the Drole when we are ſpeaking the moſt ſeriouſly, as appears by the following Letter to Charles Lillie.

I am to tell this Gentleman in ſober Sadneſs, and without Jeſt, That there really is ſo good and charitable a Man as the Benefactor enquired for in his Letter, and that there are but Two Boys yet named. The Father of one of them was killed at Bleinheim, the Father of the other at Almanza. I do not here give the Names of the Children, becauſe I ſhould take it to be an Inſolence in me to publiſh them, in a Charity which I have only the Direction of as a Servant, to that worthy and generous Spirit who beſtows upon them this Bounty, without laying the Bon⯑dage of an Obligation. What I have to do is to tell them, they are beholden only to their Maker, to kill in them as they grow up the falſe Shame of Poverty, and let them know, That their preſent Fortune, which is come upon them by the Loſs of their poor Fathers on ſo glorious Occaſions, is much more honourable, than the Inheritance of the moſt ample ill-gotten Wealth.

[128] The next Letter which lies before me is from a Man of Senſe, who ſtrengthens his own Au⯑thority with that of Tully, in perſwading me to what he very juſtly believes one cannot be averſe.

The following Epiſtle ſeems to want the quickeſt Diſpatch, becauſe a Lady is every Mo⯑ment offended till it is anſwered; which is beſt done by letting the Offender ſee in her own Let⯑ter how tender ſhe is of calling him ſo.

I write this in a thin Under-Petticoat, and ne⯑ver did or will wear a Fardingal.

I had no ſooner read the juſt Complaint of Mrs. Drumſtick, but I received an urgent One from another of the Fair Sex, upon Faults of more pernicious Conſequence.

The laſt Letter I ſhall inſert is what follows. This is written by a very inquiſitive Lady; and I think, ſuch Interrogative Gentlewomen are to be anſwered no other Way than by Interrogation. Her Billet is this:

[131] To which I can only anſwer;

WHILE the Attention of the Town is drawn aſide from the reading us Writers of News, we all ſave our ſelves againſt it is at more Leiſure. As for my own Part, I ſhall ſtill let the labouring Oar be managed by my Correſpondents, and fill my Paper with their Sentiments, rather than my own, 'till I find my Readers more diſengaged than they are at pre⯑ſent. When I came Home this Evening, I found ſeveral Letters and Petitions, which I ſhall in⯑ſert with no other Order, than as I accidentally opened them, as follows:

I am as ſerious on this Subject as my Correſpon⯑dent can be, and am of Opinion, That the great Happineſs or Misfortune of Mankind depends up⯑on the Manner of Educating and Treating that Sex. I have lately ſaid, I deſign to turn my Thoughts more particularly to them and their Service: I beg therefore a little Time to give my Opinion on ſo important a Subject, and de⯑ſire the young Lady may fill Tea one Week longer, till I have conſidered whether ſhe ſhall be removed or not.

Theſe Whetters are a People I have conſidered with much Pains, aad find them to differ from a Sect I have heretofore ſpoken of, called Snuff-Takers, only in the Expedition they take in de⯑ſtroying their Brains: The Whetter is obliged to refreſh himſelf every Moment with a Liquor, as the Snuff Taker with a Powder. As for their Harmony in the Evening, I have nothing to ob⯑ject, provided they remove to Wapping or the Bridge-Foot, where it is not to be ſuppoſed that their Vociferations will annoy the Studious, the Buſie, or the Contemplative. I once had Lodg⯑ings in Grays-Inn, where we had two hard Stu⯑dents, who learned to play upon the Hautboy; and I had a Couple of Chamber-Fellows over my Head not leſs diligent in the Practice of Back-Sword and Single-Rapier. I remember theſe Gentlemen were aſſigned by the Benchers the Two Houſes at the End of the Terras-Walk, as the only Places ſit for their Meditations. Such Students as will let none improve but them⯑ſelves, ought indeed to have their proper Di⯑ſtances from Societies.

The Gentlemen of loud Mirth above-men⯑tioned I take to be, in the Quality of their Crime, the ſame as Eves-Droppers; for they who will be in your Company whether you will or no, are to as great a Degree Offen⯑ders, as they who hearken to what paſſes with⯑out being of your Company at all. The ancient Puniſhment for the latter, when I firſt came to [134] this Town, was the Blanket, which I humbly conceive may be as juſtly applied to him that bawls, as to him that liſtens. It is therefore provided for the future, That (except in the long Vacation) no Retainers to the Law, with Dulcimer, Violin, or any other Inſtrument, in any Tavern within a Furlong of an Inn of Court, ſhall ſing any Tune, or pretended Tune whatſo⯑ever, upon Pain of the Blanker, to be admini⯑ſtred according to the Diſcretion of all ſuch peaceable People as ſhall be within the Annoy⯑ance. And it is further directed, That all Clerks who ſhall offend in this Kind ſhall forfeit their Indentures, and be turned over as Aſſiſtants to the Clerks of Pariſhes within the Bills of Mortality, who are hereby empowered to de⯑mand them accordingly.

I am not to omit the Receipt of the following Letter, with a Nightcap, from my Valentine; which Nightcap I find was finiſhed in the Year 1588, and is too finely wrought to be of any mo⯑dern Stitching. Its Antiquity will better appear by my Valentine's own Words.

ALL Perſons who employ themſelves in Pub⯑lick, are ſtill interrupted in the Courſe of their Affairs: And it ſeems, the admired Cavalier Nicolini himſelf is commanded by the Ladies, who at preſent employ their Time with great Aſſiduity in the Care of the Nation, to put off his Day till he ſhall receive their Commands, and Notice that they are at Leiſure for Diverſions. In the mean Time it is not to be expreſſed, how many cold Chickens the Fair Ones have eaten ſince this Day Seven-night for the Good of their Country. This great Occaſion has given Birth to many Diſcoveries of high Moment for the Conduct of Life. There is a Toaſt of my Ac⯑quaintance told me, She had now found out, that it was Day before Nine in the Morning; and I am very confident, if the Affair holds many Days longer, the Ancient Hours of Eating will be revived among us, many having by it been made acquainted with the Luxury of Hunger and Thirſt.

There appears, methinks, ſomething very vene⯑rable in all Aſſemblies: And I muſt confeſs, I en⯑vied all who had Youth and Health enough to make their Appearance there, that they had the Happineſs of being a whole Day in the beſt Company in the World. During the Adjourn⯑ments of that awful Court, a Neighbour of mine was telling me, That it gave him a Notion of the ancient Grandeur of the Engliſh Hoſpita⯑lity, [137] to ſee Weſtminſter-Hall a Dining-Room. There is a Chearfulneſs at ſuch Repaſts, which is very delightful to Tempers which are ſo happy as to be clear of Spleen and Vapour; for to the Jovial to ſee others pleaſed, is the greateſt of all Pleaſures.

But ſince Age and Infirmities forbid my Ap⯑pearance at ſuch publick Places, the next Hap⯑pineſs is to make the beſt Uſe of Privacy, and acquit my ſelf of the Demands of my Correſ⯑pondents. The following Letter is what has given me no ſmall Inquietude, it being an Ac⯑cuſation of Partiality, and Diſregard to Merit, in the Perſon of a Vertuoſo, who is the moſt elo⯑quent of all Men upon ſmall Occaſions, and is the more to be admired for his prodigious Ferti⯑lity of Invention, which never appears but upon Subjects which others would have thought bar⯑ren. But in Conſideration of his uncommon Talents, I am contented to let him be the Hero of my next Two Days, by inſerting his Friend's Recommendation of him at large.

I Was this Afternoon ſurpriſed with a Viſit from my Siſter Jenny, after an Abſence of ſome Time. She had, methought, in her Manner and Air, ſomething that was a little below that of the Women of firſt Breeding and Quality, but at the ſame Time above the Simplicity and Familiarity of her uſual Deportment. As ſoon as ſhe was ſeated, ſhe began to talk to me of the odd Place [141] I lived in, and begged of me to remove out of the Lane where I have been ſo long acquainted; for (ſaid ſhe) it does ſo ſpoil one's Horſes, that I muſt beg your Pardon if you ſee me much ſeldom⯑er, when I am to make ſo great a Journey with a ſingle Pair, and make Viſits and get Home the ſame Night. I underſtood her pretty well, but would not; therefore deſired her to pay off her Coach, for I had a great deal to talk to her. She very pertly told me, She came in her own Chariot. Why, ſaid I, is your Husband in Town? And has he ſet up an Equipage? No, anſwered ſhe, but I have received 500 l. by his Order; and his Letters, which came at the ſame Time, bad me want for nothing that was neceſſary. I was heartily concerned at her Folly, whoſe Affairs render her but juſt able to bear ſuch an Expence. However I conſidered, that according to the Bri⯑tiſh Cuſtom of treating Women, there is no other Method to be uſed in removing any of their Faults and Errors, but conducting their Minds from one Humour to another, with as much Ce⯑remony as we lead their Perſons from one Place to another. I therefore diſſembled my Concern, and in Compliance with her, as a Lady that was to uſe her Feet no more, I begged of her, after a ſhort Viſit, to let me perſuade her not to ſtay out till it was late, for fear of catching Cold as ſhe went into her Coach in the Dampneſs of the Evening. The Malapert knew well enough I laughed at her, but was not ill pleaſed with the Certainty of her Power over her Husband, who, ſhe knew, would ſupport her in any Humour he was able, rather than paſs through the Torment of an Expoſtulation, to gainſay any Thing ſhe had a Mind to. As ſoon as my fine Lady was gone, I writ the following Letter to my Bro⯑ther.

IN a Nation of Liberty, there is hardly a Per⯑ſon in the whole Maſs of the People more ab⯑ſolutely neceſſary than a Cenſor. It is allowed, that I have no Authority for aſſuming this impor⯑tant Appellation, and that I am Cenſor of theſe Nations, juſt as one is choſen King at the Game of Queſtions and Commands: But if, in the Exe⯑cution of this fantaſtical Dignity, I obſerve upon Things which do not fall within the Cognizance of real Authority, I hope it will be granted, that an idle Man could not be more uſefully employed. Among all the Irregularities of which I have ta⯑ken Notice, I know none ſo proper to be preſent⯑ed to the World by a Cenſor, as that of the gene⯑ral Expence and Affectation in Equipage. I have lately hinted, that this Extravagance muſt neceſ⯑ſarily get Footing where we have no ſumptuary Laws, and where every Man may be dreſſed, at⯑tended, and carried, in what Manner he pleaſes. But my Tenderneſs to my Fellow Subjects will not permit me to let this Enormity go unob⯑ſerved.

[146] As the Matter now ſtands, every Man takes it in his Head, that he has a Liberty to ſpend his Money as he pleaſes. Thus, in Spight of all Order, Juſtice, and Decorum, we the greater Number of the Queen's loyal Subjects, for no Reaſon in the World but becauſe we want Money, do not ſhare alike in the Diviſion of Her Majeſty's High-Road. The Horſes and Slaves of the Rich take up the whole Street, while we Peripateticks are very glad to watch an Opportunity to whisk croſs a Paſ⯑ſage, very thankful that we are not run over for interrupting the Machine, that carries in it a Per⯑ſon neither more handſome, wiſe, or valiant than the Meaneſt of us. For this Reaſon, were I to propoſe a Tax, it ſhould certainly be upon Coaches and Chairs: For no Man living can aſ⯑ſign a Reaſon, why one Man ſhould have half a Street to carry him at his Eaſe, and perhaps only in Purſuit of Pleaſures, when as good a Man as himſelf wants Room for his own Perſon to paſs upon the moſt neceſſary and urgent Occaſion. Till ſuch an Acknowledgment is made to the Pub⯑lick, I ſhall take upon me to veſt certain Rights in the Scavengers of the Cities of London and Weſt⯑minſter, to take the Horſes and Servants of all ſuch as do not become or deſerve ſuch Diſtinctions into their peculiar Cuſtody. The Offenders them⯑ſelves I ſhall allow ſafe Conduct to their Places of Abode in the Carts of the ſaid Scavengers, but their Horſes ſhall be mounted by their Footmen, and ſent into the Service Abroad: And I take this Opportunity in the firſt Place to recruit the Regiment of my good old Friend the brave and honeſt Sylvius, that they be as well taught as they are fed. It is to me moſt miraculous, ſo unrea⯑ſonable an Uſurpation as this I am ſpeaking of ſhould ſo long have been tolerated. We hang a poor Fellow for taking any trifle from us on the Road, and bear with the Rich for robbing us of the Road it ſelf. Such a Tax as this, would be of [147] great Satisfaction to us who walk on Foot; and ſince the Diſtinction of riding in a Coach is not to be appointed according to a Man's Merit or Ser⯑vice to their Country, nor that Liberty given as a Reward for ſome eminent Virtue, we ſhould be highly contented to ſee them pay ſomething for the Inſult they do us in the State they take upon them while they are drawn by us.

'Till they have made us ſome Reparation of this Kind, we the Peripateticks of Great Britain can⯑not think our ſelves well treated, while every one that is able is allowed to ſet up an Equipage.

As for my Part, I cannot but admire how Per⯑ſons, conſcious to themſelves of no Manner of Superiority above others, can out of meer Pride or Lazineſs expoſe themſelves at this Rate to pub⯑lick View, and put us all upon pronouncing thoſe Three terrible Syllables, Who is that? When it comes to that Queſtion, our Method is to conſi⯑der the Mien and Air of the Paſſenger, and com⯑fort our ſelves for being dirty to the Ankles, by laughing at his Figure and Appearance who over⯑looks us. I muſt confeſs, were it not for the ſo⯑lid Injuſtice of the Thing, there is nothing could afford a diſcerning Eye greater Occaſion for Mirth, than this licentious Huddle of Qualities and Characters in the Equipages about this Town. The Overſeers of the Highway and Conſtables have ſo little Skill or Power to rectify this Mat⯑ter, that you may often ſee the Equipage of a Fel⯑low whom all the Town knows to deſerve hang⯑ing, make a Stop that ſhall interrupt the Lord High Chancellor and all the Judges in their Way to Weſtminſter.

For the better underſtanding of Things and Per⯑ſons in this general Confuſion, I have given Di⯑rections to all the Coach-Makers and Coach-Painters in Town, to bring me in Liſts of their ſeveral Cuſtomers; and doubt not, but with com⯑paring the Orders of each Man, in the placing his [148] Arms on the Doors of his Chariot, as well as the Words, Devices and Cyphers to be fix'd upon them, to make a Collection which ſhall let us into the Nature, if not the Hiſtory, of Mankind, more uſefully than the Curioſities of any Medal⯑liſt in Europe.

But this Evil of Vanity in our Figure, with many others, proceeds from a certain Gaie⯑ty of Heart, which has crept into Men's very Thoughts and Complexions. The Paſſions and Adventures of Hero's, when they enter the Liſts for the Tournament in Romances, are not more eaſily diſtinguiſhable by their Palfreys and their Armour, than the ſecret Springs and Affections of the ſeveral Pretenders to Show amongſt us are known by their Equipages in ordinary Life. The young Bridegroom with his gilded Cupids, and winged Angels, has ſome Excuſe in the Joy of his Heart to launch out into ſomething that may be ſignificant of his preſent Happineſs: But to ſee Men, for no Reaſon upon Earth but that they are rich, aſcend Triumphant Chariots, and ride thro' the People, has at the Bottom nothing elſe in it but an inſolent Tranſport, ariſing only from the Diſtinction of Fortune.

It is therefore high Time that I call in ſuch Coaches as are in their Embelliſhments improper for the Character of their Owners. But if I find I am not obeyed herein, and that I cannot pull down theſe Equipages already erected, I ſhall take upon me to prevent the Growth of this Evil for the future, by enquiring into the Pretenſions of the Perſons who ſhall hereafter attempt to make publick Entries with Ornaments and Decorations of their own Appointment. If a Man, who be⯑lieved he had the handſomeſt Leg in this King⯑dom, ſhould take a Fancy to adorn ſo deſerving a Limb with a blue Garter, he would juſtly be puniſhed for offending againſt the Moſt Noble Order: And, I think, the general Proſtitution [149] of Equipage and Retinue is as deſtructive to all Diſtinction, as the Impertinence of one Man, if permitted, would certainly be to that illuſtrious Fraternity.

THIS Evening was allotted for taking into Conſideration a late Requeſt of two indul⯑gent Parents, touching the Care of a young Daughter, whom they deſign to ſend to a Board⯑ing-School, or keep at Home, according to my Determination; but I am diverted from that Sub⯑ject by Letters which I have received from ſeve⯑ral Ladies, complaining of a certain Sect of pro⯑feſſed Enemies to the Repoſe of the Fair Sex, cal⯑led Oglers. Theſe are, it ſeems, Gentlemen who look with deep Attention on one Object at the [150] Play-houſes, and are ever ſtaring all round them in Churches. It is urged by my Correſpondents, that they do all that is poſſible to keep their Eyes off theſe Inſnarers; but that, by what Power they know not, both their Diverſions and Devo⯑tions are interrupted by them in ſuch a Manner, as that they cannot attend either, without ſtealing Looks at the Perſons whoſe Eyes are fixed upon them. By this Means, my Petitioners ſay, they find themſelves grow inſenſibly leſs offended, and in Time enamoured, of theſe their Enemies. What is required of me on this Occaſion, is, That as I love and ſtudy to preſerve the better Part of Man⯑kind, the Females, I would give them ſome Ac⯑count of this dangerous Way of Aſſault, againſt which there is ſo little Defence, that it lays Am⯑buſh for the Sight it ſelf, and makes them ſee⯑ingly, knowingly, willingly, and forcibly go on to their own Captivity.

This Repreſentation of the preſent State of Af⯑fairs between the Two Sexes gave me very much Alarm; and I had no more to do, but to recollect what I had ſeen at any one Aſſembly for ſome Years laſt paſt, to be convinced of the Truth and Juſtice of this Remonſtrance. If there be not a Stop put to this evil Art, all the Modes of Addreſs, and the elegant Embelliſhments of Life, which ariſe out of the noble Paſſion of Love, will of Ne⯑ceſſity decay. Who would be at the Trouble of Rhetorick, or ſtudy the Bon Mien, when his Intro⯑duction is ſo much eaſier obtained, by a ſudden Reverence in a downcaſt Look at the meeting the Eye of a Fair Lady, and beginning again to ogle her as ſoon as ſhe glances another Way? I remem⯑ber very well, when I was laſt at an Opera, I could perceive the Eyes of the whole Audience laſt into particular croſs Angles one upon ano⯑ther, without any Manner of Regard to the Stage, though King Latinus was himſelf preſent when I made that Obſervation. It was then very plea⯑ſant [151] to look into the Hearts of the whole Com⯑pany; for the Balls of Sight are ſo form'd, that one Man's Eyes are Spectacles to another to read his Heart with. The moſt ordinary Beholder can take Notice of any violent Agitation in the Mind, any pleaſing Tranſport, or any inward Grief, in the Perſon he looks at; but one of theſe Oglers can ſee a ſtudied Indifference, a concealed Love, or a ſmother'd Reſentment, in the very Glances that are made to hide thoſe Diſpoſitions of Thought. The Naturaliſts tell us, That the Rattle Snake will fix himſelf under a Tree where he ſees a Squirrel playing; and when he has once got the Exchange of a Glance from the pretty Wan⯑ton, will give it ſuch a ſudden Stroke on its Ima⯑gination, that though it may play from Bough to Bough, and ſtrive to avert its Eyes from it for ſome Time, yet it comes nearer and nearer by little In⯑tervals of looking another Way, 'till it drops into the Jaws of the Animal, which it knew gazed at it for no other Reaſon but to ruin it. I did not believe this Piece of Philoſophy 'till that Night I was juſt now ſpeaking of; but I then ſaw the ſame Thing paſs between an Ogler and a Coquer. Mirtillo, the moſt learned of the former, had for ſome Time diſcontinued to viſit Flavia, no leſs eminent among the latter. They induſtriouſly avoided all Places where they might probably meet, but Chance brought them together to the Playhouſe, and ſeated them in a direct Line over⯑againſt each other, ſhe in a Front Box, he in the Pit next the Stage. As ſoon as Flavia had recei⯑ved the Looks of the whole Crowd below her with that Air of Inſenſibility, which is neceſſary at the firſt Entrance, ſhe began to look round her and ſaw the Vagabond Mirtillo, who had ſo long abſented himſelf from her Circle; and when ſhe firſt diſcover'd him, ſhe looked upon him with that Glance, which, in the Language of Oglers, is call'd the Scornful, but immediately turn'd her [152] Obſervation another Way, and returned upon him with the Indifferent. This gave Mirtillo no ſmall Reſentment; but he uſed her accordingly. He took Care to be ready for her next Glance. She found his Eyes full in the Indolent, with his Lips crumpled up in the Poſture of one Whiſtling. Her Anger at this Uſage immediately appeared in every Muſcle of her Face; and after many Emo⯑tions, which gliſten'd in her Eyes, ſhe caſt them round the whole Houſe, and gave 'em Softneſſes in the Face of every Man ſhe had ever ſeen before. After ſhe thought ſhe had reduced all ſhe ſaw to her Obedience, the Play began and ended their Dialogue. As ſoon as the firſt Act was over, ſhe ſtood up with a Viſage full of diſſembled Alacrity and Pleaſure, with which ſhe overlooked the Au⯑dience, and at laſt came to him; He was then placed in a Side-way, with his Hat ſlouching over his Eyes, and gazing at a Wench in the Side-Box, as talking of that Gipſy to the Gentle⯑man who ſate by him. But as ſhe was fixed upon him, he turned ſuddenly with a full Face upon her, and with all the Reſpect imaginable, made her the moſt obſequious Bow in the Preſence of the whole Theatre. This gave her a Pleaſure not to be concealed, and ſhe made him the Recovering or Second Courteſy, with a Smile that ſpoke a per⯑fect Reconciliation. Between the enſuing Acts, they talked to each other with Geſtures and Glan⯑ces ſo ſignificant, that they ridiculed the whole Houſe in this ſilent Speech, and made an Appoint⯑ment that Mirtillo ſhould lead her to her Coach.

The peculiar Language of one Eye, as it differs from another, as much as the Tone of one Voice from another, and the Faſcination or Enchant⯑ment which is lodged in the Optick Nerves of the Perſons concerned in theſe Dialogues, is, I muſt confeſs, too nice a Subject for one who is not an Adept in theſe Speculations; but I ſhall, for the Good and Safety of the Fair Sex, call my [153] learned Friend Sir William Read to my Aſſiſtance, and, by the Help of his Obſervations on this Or⯑gan, acquaint them when the Eye is to be belie⯑ved, and when diſtruſted. On the contrary, I ſhall conceal the true Meaning of the Looks of Ladies, and indulge in them all the Art they can acquire in the Management of their Glances: All which is but too little againſt Creatures who tri⯑umph in Falſhood, and begin to forſwear with their Eyes, when their Tongues can be no longer believed.

AMong the various Sets of Correſpondents who apply to me for Advice, and ſend up their Caſes from all Parts of Great Britain, there are none who are more importunate with me, and whom I am more inclined to anſwer, than the Complainers. One of them dates his Letter to me from the Banks of a purling Stream, where he uſed to ruminate in Solitude upon the Divine Clariſſa, and where he is now looking about for a Convenient Leap, which he tells me he is re⯑ſolved to take, unleſs I ſupport him under the Loſs of that charming perjured Woman. Poor Lavinia preſſes as much for Conſolation on the other Side, and is reduced to ſuch an Extremity of Deſpair by the Inconſtancy of Philander, that ſhe tells me ſhe writes her Letter with her Pen in one Hand, and her Garter in the other. A Gentleman of an ancient Family in Norfolk is al⯑moſt out of his Wits upon Account of a Grey⯑hound, that after having been his inſeparable Companion for Ten Years, is at laſt run mad. Another (who I believe is ſerious) complains to me, in a very moving Manner, of the Loſs of a [155] Wife; and another, in Terms ſtill more moving' of a Purſe of Money that was taken from him on Bagſhot Heath, and which, he tells me, would not have troubled him if he had given it to the Poor. In ſhort, there is ſcarce a Calamity in humane Life that has not produced me a Letter.

It is indeed wonderful to conſider, how Men are able to raiſe Affliction to themſelves out of every Thing. Lands and Houſes, Sheep and Oxen, can convey Happineſs and Miſery into the Hearts of reaſonable Creatures. Nay, I have known a Muff, a Scarf, or a Tippet, become a ſolid Bleſ⯑ſing or Misfortune. A Lap-Dog has broke the Hearts of Thouſands. Flavia, who had buried Five Children, and Two Husbands, was never able to get over the Loſs of her Parrat. How of⯑ten has a Divine Creature been thrown into a Fit by a Neglect at a Ball or an Aſſembly? Mopſa has kept her Chamber ever ſince the laſt Maſque⯑rade, and is in greater Danger of her Life upon being left out of it, than Clarinda from the vio⯑lent Cold which ſhe caught at it. Nor are theſe dear Creatures the only Sufferers by ſuch imagi⯑nary Calamities: Many an Author has been de⯑jected at the Cenſure of one whom he ever looked upon as an Idiot; and many a Hero caſt into a Fit of Melancholy, becauſe the Rabble have not hooted at him as he paſſed through the Streets. Theron places all his Happineſs in a Running Horſe, Suffenus in a Gilded Chariot, Fulvius in a Blue String, and Florio in a Tulip Root. It would be endleſs to enumerate the many fantaſtical Afflictions that diſturb Mankind; but as a Miſery is not to be meaſured from the Nature of the Evil, but from the Temper of the Sufferer, I ſhall preſent my Readers, who are unhappy either in Reality or Imagination, with an Allegory, for which I am indebted to the great Father and Prince of Poets.

[156] As I was ſitting after Dinner in my Elbow-Chair, I took up Homer, and dipped into that famous Speech of Achilles to Priam, in which he tells him, That Jupiter has by him Two great Veſſels, the one filled with Bleſſings, and the other with Misfortunes; out of which he mingles a Compoſition for every Man that comes into the World. This Paſſage ſo exceedingly pleaſed me, that as I fell inſenſibly into my Afternoon's Slum⯑ber, it wrought my Imagination into the follow⯑ing Dream.

When Jupiter took into his Hands the Govern⯑ment of the World, the ſeveral Parts of Nature, with the Preſiding Deities, did Homage to him. One preſented him with a Mountain of Winds, another with a Magazine of Hail, and a third with a Pile of Thunder-bolts. The Stars offer'd up their Influences; the Ocean gave in his Tri⯑dent, the Earth her Fruits, and the Sun his Sea⯑ſons. Among the ſeveral Deities who came to make their Court on this Occaſion, the Deſtinies advanced with two great Tuns carried before them, one of which they fixed at the Right Hand of Jupiter as he ſate upon his Throne, and the other on his Left. The firſt was filled with all the Bleſſings, and the other with all the Calami⯑ties of Humane Life. Jupiter, in the Beginning of his Reign, finding the World much more in⯑nocent than it is in this Iron Age, poured very plentifully out of the Tun that ſtood at his Right Hand; but as Mankind degenerated, and became unworthy of his Bleſſings, he ſet abroach the other Veſſel, that filled the World with Pain and Poverty, Battles and Diſtempers, Jealouſy and Falſhood, intoxicating Pleaſures and untimely Deaths.

He was at length ſo very much incenſed at the great Depravation of Humane Nature, and the repeated Provocations which he received from all Parts of the Earth, that having reſolved to de⯑ſtroy [157] the whole Species, except Deucalion and Pyrrha, he commanded the Deſtinies to gather up the Bleſſings which he had thrown away upon the Sons of Men, and lay them up till the World ſhould be inhabited by a more virtuous and deſer⯑ving Race of Mortals.

The Three Siſters immediately repaired to the Earth, in Search of the ſeveral Bleſſings that had been ſcatter'd on it; but found the Task which was enjoined them, to be much more difficult than they had imagin'd. The firſt Places they reſorted to, as the moſt likely to ſucceed in; were Cities, Palaces, and Courts; but inſtead of meet⯑ing with what they looked for here, they found nothing but Envy, Repining, Uneaſineſs, and the like bitter Ingredients, of the Left-Hand Veſſel. Whereas, to their great Surprize, they diſcovered Content, Chearfulneſs, Health, Innocence, and other the moſt ſubſtantial Bleſſings of Life, in Cottages, Shades, and Solitudes.

There was another Circumſtance no leſs unex⯑pected than the former, and which gave them very great Perplexity in the Diſcharge of the Truſt which Jupiter had committed to them. They obſerved, that ſeveral Bleſſings had dege⯑nerated into Calamities, and that ſeveral Calami⯑ties had improved into Bleſſings, according as they fell into the Poſſeſſion of wiſe or fooliſh Men. They often found Power, with ſo much Inſolence and Impatience cleaving to it, that it became a Misfortune to the Perſon on whom it was conferred. Youth had often Diſtempers growing about it, worſe than the Infirmities of old Age: Wealth was often united to ſuch a ſordid Avarice, as made it the moſt uncomforta⯑ble and painful Kind of Poverty. On the contra⯑ry, they often found Pain made glorious by For⯑titude, Poverty loſt in Content, Deformity beau⯑tified with Virtue. In a Word, the Bleſſings were often like good Fruits planted in a bad Soil, that [158] by Degrees fall off from their natural Reliſh, into Taſts altogether inſipid or unwholſome; and the Calamities, like harſh Fruits, cultivated in a good Soil, and enriched by proper Grafts and Inocula⯑tions, till they ſwell with generous and delightful Juices.

There was ſtill a Third Circumſtance that oc⯑caſioned as great a Surprize to the Three Siſters as either of the foregoing, when they diſcovered ſeveral Bleſſings and Calamities which had never been in either of the Tuns that ſtood by the Throne of Jupiter, and were nevertheleſs as great Occaſions of Happineſs or Miſery as any there. Theſe were that ſpurious Crop of Bleſſings and Calamities which were never ſown by the Hand of the Deity, but grow of themſelves out of the Fancies and Diſpoſitions of Humane Creatures. Such are Dreſs, Titles, Place, Equipage, falſe Shame and groundleſs Fear, with the like vain Imaginations that ſhoot up in trifling, weak, and irreſolute Minds.

The Deſtinies finding themſelves in ſo great a Perplexity, concluded, that it would be impoſſible for them to execute the Commands that had been given them according to their firſt Intention; for which Reaſon they agreed to throw all the Bleſ⯑ſings and Calamities together into one large Veſ⯑ſel, and in that Manner offer them up at the Feet of Jupiter.

This was performed accordingly, the eldeſt Si⯑ſter preſenting her ſelf before the Veſſel, and in⯑troducing it with an Apology for what they had done.

REading is to the Mind, what Exerciſe is to the Body. As by the one, Health is preſer⯑ved, ſtrenthened and invigorated; by the other, Virtue (which is the Health of the Mind) is kept alive, cheriſhed and confirmed. But as Exerciſe becomes tedious and painful when we make uſe of it only as the Means of Health, ſo Reading is apt to grow uneaſy and burdenſome, when we apply our ſelves to it only for our Improvement in Vir⯑tue. For this Reaſon, the Virtue which we ga⯑ther from a Fable, or an Allegory, is like the Health we get by Hunting; as we are engaged in an agreeable Purſuit that draws us on with Pleaſure, and makes us inſenſible of the Fatigues that ac⯑company it.

After this Preface, I ſhall ſet down a very beautiful Allegorical Fable out of the great Poet whom I mentioned in my laſt Paper, and whom it is very difficult to lay aſide when one is enga⯑ged in the reading of him. And this I particularly deſign for the Uſe of ſeveral of my Fair Correſpon⯑dents, who in their Letters have complained to [160] me, that they have loſt the Affections of their Husbands, and deſire my Advice how to recover them.

Juno, ſays Homer, ſeeing her Jupiter ſeated on the Top of Mount Ida, and knowing that he had conceived an Averſion to her, began to ſtudy how ſhe ſhould regain his Affections, and make her ſelf amiable to him. With this Thought ſhe immedi⯑ately retired into her Chamber, where ſhe bathed her ſelf in Ambroſia, which gave her Perſon all its Beauty, and diffuſed ſo divine an Odor, as re⯑freſh'd all Nature, and ſweeten'd both Heaven and Earth. She let her immortal Treſſes flow in the moſt graceful Manner, and took a particular Care to dreſs her ſelf in ſeveral Ornaments, which the Poet deſcribes at length, and which the Goddeſs choſe out as the moſt proper to ſet off her Perſon to the beſt Advantage. In the next Place, ſhe made a Viſit to Venus, the Deity who preſides over Love, and begged of her, as a par⯑ticular Favour, that ſhe would lend her for a while thoſe Charms with which ſhe ſubdued the Hearts both of Gods and Men. For, ſays the Goddeſs, I would make uſe of them to reconcile the Two Deities, who took Care of me in my Infancy, and who, at preſent, are at ſo great a Variance, that they are eſtranged from each other's Bed. Venus was proud of an Opportunity of obliging ſo great a Goddeſs, and therefore made her a Preſent of the Ceſtus which ſhe uſed to wear about her own Waſt, with Advice to hide it in her Boſom till ſhe had accompliſhed her In⯑tention. This Ceſtus was a fine Party-coloured Girdie, which, as Homer tells us, had all the At⯑tractions of the Sex wrought into it. The Four principal Figures in the Embroidery were Love, Deſi e, Fondneſs of Speech, and Converſation, filled with that Sweetneſs and Complacency, which, ſays the Poet, inſenſibly ſteal away the Hearts of the wiſeſt Men.

[161] Juno, after having made theſe neceſſary Prepa⯑rations, came as by Accident into the Preſence of Jupiter, who is ſaid to have been as much infla⯑med with her Beauty, as when he firſt ſtole to her Embraces without the Conſent of their Parents. Juno, to cover her real Thoughts, told him as ſhe had told Venus, That ſhe was going to make a Viſit to Oceanus and Tethys. He prevailed upon her to ſtay with him, proteſting to her, that ſhe appeared more amiable in his Eye, than ever any Mortal, Goddeſs, or even her ſelf, had appeared to him till that Day. The Poet then repreſents him in ſo great an Ardour, that (without going up to the Houſe which had been built by the Hands of Vulcan according to Juno's Direction) he threw a Golden Cloud over their Heads as they ſate upon the Top of Mount Ida, while the Earth beneath them ſprung up in Lotus's, Saf⯑frons, Hyacinths, and a Bed of the ſofteſt Flowers for their Repoſe.

This cloſe Tranſlation of one of the fineſt Paſ⯑ſages in Homer, may ſuggeſt abundance of Inſtru⯑ction to a Woman who has a Mind to preſerve or recal the Affection of her Husband. The Care of the Perſon, and the Dreſs, with the particular Blandiſhments woven in the Ceſtus, are ſo plainly recommended by this Fable, and ſo indiſpenſibly neceſſary in every Female who deſires to pleaſe, that they need no further Explanation. The Diſ⯑cretion likewiſe in covering all Matrimonial Quar⯑rels from the Knowledge of others, is taught in the pretended Viſit to Tethys, in the Speech where Juno addreſſes her ſelf to Venus; as the chaſt and prudent Management of a Wife's Charms is inti⯑mated by the ſame Pretence for her appearing be⯑fore Jupiter, and by the Concealment of the Ceſtus in her Boſom.

I ſhall leave this Tale to the Conſideration of ſuch good Houſewives who are never well dreſ⯑ſed but when they are Abroad, and think it ne⯑ceſſary [162] to appear more agreeable to all Men living than their Husbands: As alſo to thoſe prudent Ladies, who to avoid the Appearance of being over-fond, entertain their Husbands with Indiffe⯑rence, Averſion, ſullen Silence, or exaſperating Language.

Upon my coming Home laſt Night, I found a very handſome Preſent of Wine left for me, as a Taſt of 216 Hogſheads which are to be put to Sale at 20 l. a Hogſhead, at Garraway's Coffee-houſe in Ex⯑change-Alley, on the 22d Inſtant, at 3 in the After⯑noon, and to be taſted in Major Long's Vaults from the 20th Inſtant till the Time of Sale. This having been ſent to me with a Deſire that I would give my Judgment upon it, I immediately impannel⯑led a Jury of Men of nice Palates and ſtrong Heads, who being all of them very ſcrupulous, and unwilling to proceed raſhly in a Matter of ſo great Importance, refus'd to bring in their Ver⯑dict till Three in the Morning; at which Time the Foreman pronounc'd, as well as he was able, Extra—a—ordinary French Claret. For my own Part, as I love to conſult my Pillow in all Points of Moment, I ſlept upon it before I would give my Sentence, and this Morning confirmed the Verdict.

Having mentioned this Tribute of Wine, I muſt give Notice to my Correſpondents for the future, who ſhall apply to me on this Occaſion, That as I ſhall decide nothing unadviſedly in Matters of this Nature, I cannot pretend to give Judgment of a right good Liquor, without examining at leaſt Three Dozen Bottles of it. I muſt at the ſame Time do my ſelf the Juſtice to let the World know, that I have reſiſted great Temptations in this Kind; as it is well known to a Butcher in Clare-Market, who endeavoured to corrupt me with a Dozen and half of Marrow-Bones. I had [163] likewiſe a Bribe ſent me by a Fiſhmonger, con⯑ſiſting of a Collar of Brawn, and a Joll of Sal⯑mon; but not finding them excellent in their Kinds, I had the Integrity to eat them both up, without ſpeaking one Word of them. However, for the future, I ſhall have an Eye to the Diet of this great City, and will recommend the beſt and moſt wholeſome Food to them, if I receive theſe proper and reſpectful Notices from the Sel⯑lers, that it may not be ſaid hereafter, my Rea⯑ders were better taught than fed.

HAVING intimated in my laſt Paper, that I deſign to take under my Inſpection the Diet of this great City, I ſhall begin with a ve⯑ry earneſt and ſerious Exhortation to all my well⯑diſpoſed Readers, that they would return to the Food of their Forefathers, and reconcile them⯑ſelves to Beef and Mutton. This was the Diet which bred that hardy Race of Mortals who won the Fields of Creſſy and Agincourt. I need not go up ſo high as the Hiſtory of Guy Earl of Warwick, who is well known to have eaten up a Dun Cow of his own killing. The Renown'd King Arthur is generally looked upon as the firſt who ever ſat down to a whole roaſted Ox, (which was certainly the beſt Way to preſerve the Gravy) and it is further added, that he and his Knights ſat about it at his Round Table, and uſually [164] conſumed it to the very Bones before they would enter upon any Debate of Moment. The Black Prince was a profeſſed Lover of the Bris⯑ket; not to mention the Hiſtory of the Surloin, or the Inſtitution of the Order of Beef-Eaters, which are all ſo many evident and undeniable Marks of the great Reſpect which our Warlike Predeceſſors have paid to this excellent Food. The Tables of the ancient Gentry of this Nation were cover'd thrice a Day with hot Roaſt-Beef; and I am credibly informed, by an Antiquary who has ſearched the Regiſters, in which the Bills of Fare of the Court are recorded, that in⯑ſtead of Tea and Bread and Butter, which have prevailed of late Years, the Maids of Honour in Queen Elizabeth's Time were allowed Three Rumps of Beef for their Breakfaſt. Mutton has likewiſe been in great Repute among our valiant Countrymen, but was formerly obſerved to be the Food rather of Men of nice and delicate Ap⯑petites, than thoſe of ſtrong and robuſt Conſtitu⯑tions. For which Reaſon, even to this Day, we uſe the Word Sheep-Biter as a Term of Reproach, as we do Beef-Eater in a reſpectful and honoura⯑ble Senſe. As for the Fleſh of Lamb, Veal, Chicken, and other Animals under Age, they were the Invention of ſickly and degenerate Pa⯑lates, according to that wholeſome Remark of Daniel the Hiſtorian, who takes Notice, That in all Taxes upon Proviſions, during the Reigns of ſeveral of our Kings, there is nothing mentioned beſides the Fleſh of ſuch Fowl and Cattle as were arrived at their full Growth, and were ma⯑ture for Slaughter. The Common People of this Kingdom do ſtill keep up the Taſte of their Anceſtors; and it is to this that we in a great Meaſure owe the unparallelled Victories that have been gained in this Reign: For I would deſire my Reader to conſider, what Work our Country⯑men would have made at Blenheim and Ramil⯑lies, [165] if they had been fed with Fricacies and Ra⯑gouſts.

For this Reaſon, we at preſent ſee the florid Complexion, the ſtrong Limb, and the hale Conſtitution, are to be found chiefly among the meaner Sort of People, or in the wild Gentry, who have been educated among the Woods or Mountains. Whereas many great Families are inſenſibly fallen off from the Athletick Conſti⯑tution of their Progenitors, and are dwindled away into a pale, ſickly, ſpindle-legged Gene⯑ration of Valetudinarians.

I may perhaps be thought extravagant in my Notion; but I muſt confeſs, I am apt to impute the Diſhonours that ſometimes happen in great families to the inflaming kind of Diet which is ſo much in Faſhion. Many Diſhes can excite Deſire without giving Strength, and heat the Body without nouriſhing it; as Phyſicians ob⯑ſerve, That the pooreſt and moſt diſpirited Blood is moſt ſubject to Fevers. I look upon a French Ragouſt to be as pernicious to the Stomach as a Glaſs of Spirits; and when I have ſeen a young Lady ſwallow all the Inſtigations of high Soups, ſeaſoned Sauces, and forced Meats, I have won⯑dered at the Deſpair or tedious Sighing of her Lovers.

The Rules among theſe falſe Delicates, are to be as Contradictory as they can be to Nature.

Without expecting the Return of Hunger, they eat for an Appetite, and prepare Diſhes not to al⯑lay, but to excite it.

They admit of nothing at their Tables in its natural Form, or without ſome Diſguiſe.

They are to eat every Thing before it comes in Seaſon, and to leave it off as ſoon as it is good to be eaten.

They are not to approve any Thing that is agreeable to ordinary Palates; and nothing is to [166] gratify their Senſes, but what would offend thoſe of their Inferiors.

I remember I was laſt Summer invited to a Friend's Houſe, who is a great Admirer of the French Cookery, and (as the Phraſe is) eats well. At our fitting down, I found the Table covered with a great Variety of Unknown Diſhes. I was mightily at a Loſs to learn what they were, and therefore did not know where to help my ſelf. That which ſtood before me, I took to be a roaſted Porcupine, however did not care for ask⯑ing Queſtions; and have ſince been informed, that it was only a larded Turkey. I afterwards paſſed my Eye over ſeveral Haſhes, which I do not know the Names of to this Day; and hearing that they were Delicacies, did not think fit to meddle with them.

Among other Dainties, I ſaw ſomething like a Pheaſant, and therefore deſired to be helped to a Wing of it; but to my great Surprize, my Friend told me it was a Rabbet, which is a ſort of Meat I never cared for. At laſt I diſcovered, with ſome Joy, a Pig at the lower End of the Table, and begged a Gentleman that was near it to cut me a Piece of it. Upon which the Gentleman of the Houſe ſaid, with great Civility, I am ſure you will like the Pig, for it was whipped to Death. I muſt confeſs, I heard him with Horror, and could not eat of an Animal that had died ſo tra⯑gical a Death. I was now in great Hunger and Confuſion, when, methought, I ſmelled the a⯑greeable Savour of Roaſt Beef, but could not tell from which Diſh it aroſe, though I did not que⯑ſtion but it lay diſguiſed in one of them. Upon turning my Head, I ſaw a noble Sirloin on the Side-Table ſmoaking in the moſt delicious Man⯑ner. I had Recourſe to it more than once, and could not ſee, without ſome Indignation, that ſubſtantial Engliſh Diſh baniſhed in ſo igno⯑minious [167] a Manner, to make Way for French [...]kſhaws.

The Deſert was brought up at laſt, which in [...]th was as extraordinary as any Thing that [...] come before it. The whole, when ranged [...]ts proper Order, looked like a very beautiful [...]ter-Piece. There were ſeveral Pyramids of [...]ndy'd Sweetmeats, that hung like Icicles, [...]th Fruits ſcattered up and down, and hid in an [...]ificial kind of Froſt. At the ſame Time there [...]ere great Quantities of Cream beaten up into [...] Snow, and near them little Plates of Sugar⯑ [...]umbs, diſpoſed like ſo many Heaps of Hail⯑ [...]nes, with a Multitude of Congelations in Jel⯑ [...]s of various Colours. I was indeed ſo pleaſed [...]th the ſeveral Objects which lay before me, [...]at I did not care for diſplacing any of them, [...]d was half angry with the reſt of the Com⯑ [...]ny, that for the Sake of a Piece of Lemon⯑ [...]el, or a Sugar-Plumb, would ſpoil ſo pleaſing [...] Picture. Indeed, I could not but ſmile to ſee [...]veral of them cooling their Mouths with Lumps [...]f Ice which they had juſt before been burning with Salts and Peppers.

As ſoon as this Show was over I took my [...]eave, that I might finiſh my Dinner at my own Houſe: For as I in every Thing love what is [...]mple and natural, ſo particularly in my Food; Two plain Diſhes, with Two or Three good-na⯑ [...]ured, chearful, ingenious Friends, would make [...]he more pleaſed and vain, than all that Pomp [...]nd Luxury can beſtow. For it is my Maxim, That he keeps the greateſt Table, who has the moſt valuable Company at it.

IT has often been a ſolid Grief to me, when I have reflected on this glorious Nation, which is the Scene of publick Happineſs and Liberty, that there are ſtill Crowds of private Tyrants, againſt whom there neither is any Law now in Being, nor can there be invented any by the Wit of Man. Theſe cruel Men are ill-natured Husbands. The Commerce in the Conjugal State is ſo delicate, that it is impoſſible to preſcribe Rules for the Conduct of it, ſo as to fit Ten Thouſand name⯑leſs Pleaſures and Diſquietudes which ariſe to People in that Condition. But it is in this as in ſome other nice Caſes, where touching upon the Malady tenderly, is half Way to the Cure; and there are ſome Faults which need only to be obſerved to be amended. I am put into this Way of thinking by a late Converſation which I am going to give an Account of.

I made a Viſit the other Day to a Family for which I have a great Honour, and found the Fa⯑ther, the Mother, and Two or Three of the younger Children, drop off deſignedly to leave me alone with the eldeſt Daughter, who was but a Viſitant there as well as my ſelf, and is the Wife of a Gentleman of a very fair Character in the World. As ſoon as we were alone, I ſaw her Eyes fall of Tears, and methought ſhe had much to ſay to me, for which ſhe wanted En⯑couragement. Madam, ſaid I, you know I wiſh you all as well as any Friend you have: Speak freely what I ſee you are oppreſſed with, and [169] you may be ſure, if I cannot relieve your Di⯑ſtreſs, you may at leaſt reap ſo much preſent Ad⯑vantage, as ſafely to give your ſelf the Eaſe of uttering it. She immediately aſſumed the moſt becoming Compoſure of Countenance, and ſpoke as follows:

When I obſerved ſhe had done ſpeaking, Ma⯑dam, ſaid I, the Affliction you mention is the greateſt that can happen in Humane Life, and I know but one Conſolation in it, if that be a Con⯑ſolation, that the Calamity is a pretty general one. There is nothing ſo common as for Men to enter into Marriage, without ſo much as expect⯑ing to be happy in it. They ſeem to propoſe to [170] themſelves a few Holidays in the Beginning of it; after which they are to return at beſt to the uſual Courſe of their Life; and for ought they know, to conſtant Miſery and Uneaſineſs. From this falſe Senſe of the State they are going into, proceeds the immediate Coldneſs and Indiffe⯑rence, or Hatred and Averſion, which attend ordinary Marriages, or rather Bargains to coha⯑bit. Our Converſation was here interrupted by Company which came in upon us.

The Humour of affecting a ſuperior Carriage, generally riſes from a falſe Notion of the Weak⯑neſs of a Female Underſtanding in general, or an over-weaning Opinion that we have of our own: For when it proceeds from a natural Rug⯑gedneſs and Brutality of Temper, it is altoge⯑ther incorrigible, and not to be amended by Ad⯑monition. Sir Francis Bacon, as I remember, lays it down as a Maxim, That no Marriage can be happy in which the Wife has no Opinion of her Husband's Wiſdom; but without Offence to ſo great an Authority, I may venture to ſay, That a ſullen-wife Man is as bad as a good-na⯑tured Fool. Knowledge, ſoftened with Compla⯑cency and good Breeding, will make a Man equal⯑ly beloved and reſpected; but when joined with a ſevere, diſtant and unſociable Temper, it creates rather Fear than Love. I who am a Batchelor, have no other Notion of Conjugal Tenderneſs, out what I learn from Books, and ſhall there⯑fore produce Three Letters of Pliny, who was not only one of the greateſt, but the moſt [...]arned Men in the whole Roman Empire. At the ſame Time I am very much aſhamed, that on ſuch Occaſions I am obliged to have Re⯑cou [...]ſe to Heathen Authors, and ſhall appeal to my Readers, if they would not think it a Mark of a narrow Education in a Man of Qua⯑lity to write ſuch paſſionate Letters to any Wo⯑man but a Miſtreſs. They were all Three writ⯑ten [171] at a Time when ſhe was at a Diſtance from him: The firſt of them puts me in Mind of a married Friend of Mine, who ſaid, Sickneſs it ſelf is pleaſant to a Man that is attended in it by one whom he dearly loves.

I ſhall conclude this Paper with a beautiful Paſſage out of Milton, and leave it as a Lecture to thoſe of my own Sex, who have a Mind to make their Converſation agreeable as well as inſtru⯑ctive, to the Fair Partners who are fallen into their Care. Eve having obſerved, That Adam was entring into ſome deep Diſquiſitions with the Angel, who was ſent to viſit him, is de⯑ſcribed as retiring from their Company, with a Deſign of learning what ſhould paſs there from her Husband.

I Have received the following Letter upon the Subject of my laſt Paper. The Writer of it tells me, I there ſpoke of Marriage as one that knows it only by Speculation, and for that Rea⯑ſon he ſends me his Senſe of it, as drawn from Experience.

WHEN Artiſts would expoſe their Dia⯑monds to an Advantage, they uſually ſet them to Show in little Caſes of black Velvet. By this Means the Jewels appear in their true and genuine Luſtre, while there is no Colour that can infect their Brightneſs, or give a falſe Caſt to the Water. When I was at the Opera the other Night, the Aſſembly of Ladies in Mourn⯑ing made me conſider them in the ſame Kind of View. A Dreſs wherein there is ſo little Variety, ſhows the Face in all its natural Charms, and makes one differ from another only as it is more or leſs beautiful. Painters are ever careful of of⯑fending againſt a Rule which is ſo eſſential in all juſt Repreſentation. The chief Figure muſt have the ſtrongeſt Point of Light, and not be injured by any gay Colourings that may draw away the Attention to any leſs conſiderable Part of the Picture. The preſent Faſhion obliges every Body to be dreſs'd with Propriety, and makes the Ladies Faces the principal Objects of Sight. Every beau⯑tiful Perſon ſhines out in all the Excellence with which Nature has adorned her: Gawdy Ribands and glaring Colours being now out of Uſe, the Sex has no Opportunity given them to disfi⯑gure themſelves, which they ſeldom fail to do whenever it lies in their Power. When a Woman comes to her Glaſs, ſhe does not em⯑ploy [179] her Time in making her ſelf look more ad⯑vantagiouſly what ſhe really is, but endeavours to be as much another Creature as ſhe poſſibly can. Whether this happens, becauſe they ſtay ſo long, and attend their Work ſo diligently, that they forget the Faces and Perſons which they firſt ſate down with, or whatever it is, they ſel⯑dom riſe from the Toilet the ſame Women they appeared when they began to dreſs. What Jewel can the Charming Cleora place in her Ears, that can pleaſe her Beholders ſo much as her Eyes? The Cluſter of Diamonds upon the Breaſt can add no Beauty to the fair Cheſt of Ivory which ſupports it. It may indeed tempt a Man to ſteal a Woman, but never to love her. Let Thaleſtris change her ſelf into a Motly Party-coloured Animal: The Pearl Neck-lace, the Flowered Stomacher, the Artificial Noſegay, and Shaded Furbelow, may be of Uſe to attract the Eye of the Beholder, and turn it from the Im⯑perfections of her Features and Shape. But if Ladies will take my Word for it, (and as they dreſs to pleaſe Men, they ought to conſult our Fancy rather than their own in this Particular) I can aſſ re them, there is nothing touches our Imagination ſo much as a beautiful Woman in a plain Dreſs. There might be more agreeable Ornaments found in our own Manufacture, than any that riſe out of the Looms of Perſia.

This, I know, is a very harſh Doctrine to Wo⯑man-kind, who are carried away with every Thing that is ſhowy, and with what delights the Eye, more than any other Species of Living Creatures whatſoever. Were the Minds of the Sex laid open, we ſhould find the chief Idea in one to be a Tippet, in another a Muff, in a Third a Fan, and in a Fourth a Fardingal. The Me⯑mory of an old Viſiting-Lady is ſo filled with Gloves, Silks, and Ribands, that I can look upon it as nothing elſe but a Toy-ſhop. A Matron of [180] my Acqaintance complaining of her Daughter's Vanity, was obſerving, that ſhe had all of a ſud⯑den held up her Head higher than ordinary, and taken an Air that ſhowed a ſecret Satisfaction in her ſelf, mixed with a Scorn of others. I did not know, ſays my Friend, what to make of the Carriage of this Fantaſtical Girl, till I was in⯑formed by her elder Siſter, that ſhe had a Pair of ſtriped Garters on. This odd Turn of Mind often makes the Sex unhappy, and diſpoſes them to be ſtruck with every Thing that makes a Show, however trifling and ſuperficial.

Many a Lady has fetched a Sigh at the Toſs of a Wig, and been ruined by the Tapping of a Snuff box. It is impoſſible to deſcribe all the Execution that was done by the Shoulder-Knot while that Faſhion prevailed, or to reckon up all the Virgins that have fallen a Sacrifice to a Pair of fringed Gloves. A ſincere Heart has not made half ſo many Conqueſts as an open Waſt⯑coat; and I ſhould be glad to ſee an able Head make ſo good a Figure in a Woman's Company as a Pair of Red Heels. A Grecian Hero, when he was asked whether he could play upon the Lute, thought he had made a very good Reply when he anſwered, No, but I can make a great City of a little One. Notwithſtanding his boaſted Wiſdom, I appeal to the Heart of any Toaſt in Town, whether ſhe would not think the Luta⯑nist preferable to the Stateſman. I do not ſpeak this out of any Averſion that I have to the Sex: On the contrary, I have always had a Tender⯑neſs for them; but I muſt confeſs, it troubles me very much, to ſee the Generality of them place their Affections on improper Objects, and give up all the Pleaſures of Life for Gugaws and Trifles.

Mrs. Margery Bickerſtaff, my great Aunt, had a Thouſand Pounds to her Portion, which our Fa⯑mily was deſirous of keeping among themſelves, [181] and therefore uſed all poſſible Means to turn off her Thoughts from Marriage. The Method they took, was, in any Time of Danger to throw a new Gown or Petticoat in her Way. When ſhe was about Twenty five Years of Age, ſhe fell in Love with a Man of an agreeable Temper, and equal Fortune, and would certainly have married him, had not my Grandfather, Sir Jacob, dreſſed her up in a Suit of flowered Sattin; upon which, ſhe ſet ſo immoderate a Value upon her ſelf, that the Lover was contemned and diſcarded. In the Fortieth Year of her Age, ſhe was again ſmitten, but very luckily transferred her Paſ⯑ſion to a Tippet, which was preſented to her by another Relation who was in the Plot. This, with a white Sarſenet Hood, kept her ſafe in the Family till Fifty. About Sixty, which gene⯑rally produces a Kind of latter Spring in amo⯑rous Conſtitutions, my Aunt Margery had again a Colt's-Tooth in her Head, and would certainly have eloped from the Manſion-houſe, had not her Brother Simon, who was a wiſe Man, and a Scho⯑lar, adviſed to dreſs her in Cherry-coloured Ri⯑bands, which was the only Expedient that could have been found out by the Wit of Man to pre⯑ſerve the Thouſand Pounds in our Family, Part of which I enjoy at this Time.

This Diſcourſe puts me in Mind of an Hu⯑moriſt mentioned by Horace, called Eutrapelus, who, when he deſigned to do a Man a Miſchief, made him a Preſent of a gay Suit; and brings to my Memory another Paſſage of the ſame Author, when he deſcribes the moſt ornamental Dreſs that a Woman can appear in with Two Words, Simplex Munditiis, which I have quoted for the Benefit of my Female Readers.

A Man who confines his Speculations to the Time preſent, has but a very narrow Pro⯑vince to employ his Thoughts in. For this Rea⯑ſon, Perſons of ſtudious and contemplative Na⯑tures often entertain themſelves with the Hiſtory of paſt Ages, or raiſe Schemes and Conjectures upon Futurity. For my own Part, I love to range through that Half of Eternity which is ſtill to come, rather than look on that which is already run out; becauſe I know I have a real Share and Intereſt in the one, whereas all that was tranſ⯑acted in the other, can be only Matter of Cu⯑rioſity to me.

Upon this Account, I have been always very much delighted with meditating on the Soul's Immortality, and in reading the ſeveral Notions which the wiſeſt of Men, both ancient and mo⯑dern, have entertained on that Subject. What the Opinions of the greateſt Philoſophers have been, I have ſeveral times hinted at, and ſhall give an Account of them from Time to Time as Occaſion requires. It may likewiſe be worth while to conſider, what Men of the moſt exalted Genius, and elevated Imagination, have thought of this Matter. Among theſe, Homer ſtands up as a Prodigy of Mankind, that looks down upon the reſt of Humane Creatures as a Species beneath him. Since he is the moſt ancient Hea⯑then [183] Author, we may gueſs from his Relation, what were the common Opinions in his Time concerning the State of the Soul after Death.

Ulyſſes, he tells us, made a Voyage to the Re⯑gions of the Dead, in order to conſult Tireſias how he ſhould return to his own Country, and recommend himſelf to the Favour of the Gods. The Poet ſcarce introduces a ſingle Perſon, who doth not ſuggeſt ſome uſeful Precept to his Rea⯑der, and deſigns his Deſcription of the Dead for the Amendment of the Living.

Ulyſſes, after having made a very plenteous Sa⯑crifice, ſate him down by the Pool of Holy Blood, which attracted a prodigious Aſſembly of Ghoſts of all Ages and Conditions, that hovered about the Hero, and feaſted upon the Steams of his Oblation. The firſt he knew, was the Shade of Elpenor, who, to ſhow the Activity of a Spirit a⯑bove that of Body, is repreſented as arrived there long before Ulyſſes, notwithſtanding the Winds and Seas had contributed all their Force to haſten his Voyage thither. This Elpenor, to inſpire the Reader with a Deteſtation of Drunkenneſs, and at the ſame Time with a religious Care of doing proper Honours to the Dead, deſcribes himſelf as having broken his Neck in a Debauch of Wine; and begs Ulyſſes, that for the Repoſe of his Soul, he would build a Monument over him, and per⯑form Funeral Rites to his Memory. Ulyſſes with great Sorrow of Heart promiſes to fulfil his Re⯑queſt, and is immediately diverted to an Object much more moving than the former. The Ghoſt of his own Mother Anticlea, whom he ſtill thought living, appears to him among the Multi⯑tude of Shades that ſurrounded him, and ſits down at a ſmall Diſtance from him by the Lake of Blood, without ſpeaking to him, or knowing who he was. Ulyſſes was exceedingly troubled at the Sight, and could not forbear weeping as he look'd upon her: But being all along ſet forth as [184] a Pattern of conſummate Wiſdom, he makes his Affection give Way to Prudence; and therefore, upon his ſeeing Tireſias, does not reveal himſelf to his Mother, till he had conſulted that great Prophet, who was the Occaſion of this his De⯑ſcent into the Empire of the Dead. Tireſias ha⯑ving cautioned him to keep himſelf and his Com⯑panions free from the Guilt of Sacrilege, and to pay his Devotions to all the Gods, promiſes him a ſafe Return to his Kingdom and Family, and a happy old Age in the Enjoyment of them.

The Poet having thus with great Art kept the Curioſity of the Reader in Suſpence, repreſents his wiſe Man, after the Diſpatch of his Buſineſs with Tireſias, as yielding himſelf up to the Calls of natural Affection, and making himſelf known to his Mother. Her Eyes are no ſooner opened, but ſhe cries out in Tears, Oh my Son! and en⯑quires into the Occaſions that brought him thi⯑ther, and the Fortune that attended him.

Ulyſſes on the other Hand deſires to know, what the Sickneſs was that had ſent her into thoſe Regions, and the Condition in which ſhe had left his Father, his Son, and more particu⯑larly his Wife. She tells him, they were all Three inconſolable for his Abſence; and as for my ſelf, ſays ſhe, That was the Sickneſs of which I died. My Impatience for your Return, my Anxiety for your Welfare, and my Fondneſs for my Dear Ulyſſes, were the only Diſtempers that prey'd upon my Life, and ſeparated my Soul from my Body. Ulyſſes was melted with theſe Expreſſions of Ten⯑derneſs, and Thrice endeavoured to catch the Apparition in his Arms, that he might hold his Mother to his Boſom and weep over her.

This gives the Poet Occaſion to deſcribe the Notion the Heathens at that Time had of an un⯑bodied Soul, in the Excuſe which the Mother makes for ſeeming to withdraw her ſelf from her Son's Embraces. The Soul, ſays ſhe, is compoſed [185] neither of Bones, Fleſh, nor Sinews, but leaves be⯑hind her all thoſe Incumbrances of Mortality to be conſumed on the Funeral Pile. As ſoon as ſhe has thus caſt her Burthen, ſhe makes her Eſcape, and flies away from it like a Dream.

When this melancholy Converſation is at an End, the Poet draws up to View as charming a Viſion as could enter into Man's Imagination. He deſcribes the next who appeared to Ulyſſes, to have been the Shades of the fineſt Women that had ever lived upon the Earth, and who had ei⯑ther been the Daughters of Kings, the Miſtreſſes of Gods, or Mothers of Heroes, ſuch as Antiope, Alemena, Leda, Ariadne, Iphimedia, Eri [...]hyle, and ſeveral others, of whom he gives a Catalogue, with a ſhort Hiſtory of their Adventures. The beautiful Aſſembly of Apparitions were all ga⯑thered together about the Blood: Each of them, ſays Ulyſſes, (as a gentle Satyr upon Female Va⯑nity) giving me an Account of her Birth and Fa⯑mily. This Scene of extraordinary Women, ſeems to have been deſigned by the Poet as a Lecture of Mortality to the whole Sex, and to put them in Mind of what they muſt expect, notwithſtand⯑ing the greateſt Perfections, and higheſt Honours, they can arrive at.

The Circle of Beauties at length diſappeared, and was ſucceeded by the Shades of ſeveral Gre⯑cian Heroes who had been engaged with Ulyſſes in the Siege of Troy. The firſt that approached was Agamemnon, the Generaliſſimo of that great Expedition, who at the Appearance of his old Friend wept very bitterly, and without ſaying any Thing to him, endeavoured to graſp him by the Hand. Ulyſſes, who was much moved at the Sight, pour'd out a Flood of Tears, and ask'd him the Occaſion of his Death, which Agamem⯑non related to him in all its Tragical Circumſtan⯑ces; how he was murthered at a Banquet by the Contrivance of his own Wife, in Confederacy [186] with her Adulterer: From whence he takes Oc⯑caſion to reproach the whole Sex, after a Man⯑ner which would be inexcuſable in a Man who had not been ſo great a Sufferer by them. My Wife (ſays he) has diſgraced all the Women that ſhall ever be born into the World, even thoſe who hereafter ſhall be innocent: Take Care how you grow too fond of your Wife. Never tell her all you know. If you reveal ſome Things to her, be ſure you keep others concealed from her. You indeed have nothing to fear from your Penelope, ſhe will not uſe you as my Wife has treated me; however, take Care how you truſt a Woman. The Poet, in this and other Inſtances, according to the Syſtem of many Hea⯑then as well as Chriſtian Philoſophers, ſhows, how Anger, Revenge, and other Habits which the Soul had contracted in the Body, ſubſiſt and grow in it under its State of Separation.

I am extremely pleaſed with the Companions which the Poet in the next Deſcription aſſigns to Achilles. Achilles (ſays the Hero) came up to me with Patroclus and Antilochus. By which we may ſee that it was Homer's Opinion, and proba⯑bly that of the Age he lived in, that the Friend⯑ſhips which are made among the Living, will likewiſe continue among the Dead. Achilles en⯑quires after the Welfare of his Son, and of his Father, with a Fierceneſs of the ſame Character that Homer has every where expreſſed in the Actions of his Life. The Paſſage relating to his Son is ſo extremely beautiful, that I muſt not omit it. Ulyſſes, after having deſcribed him as wiſe in Council, and active in War, and mentioned the Foes whom he had ſlain in Battle, adds an Obſervation that he himſelf had made of his Be⯑haviour whilſt he lay in the Wooden Horſe. Moſt of the Generals (ſays he) that were with us, either wept or trembled: As for your Son, I neither ſaw him wipe a Tear from his Cheeks, or change his Countenance. On the contrary, he would often lay [187] his Hand upon his Sword, or graſp his Spear, as impatient to employ them againſt the Trojans. He then informs his Father of the great Honour and Rewards which he had purchaſed before Troy, and of his Return from it without a Wound. The Shade of Achilles, ſays the Poet, was ſo pleaſed with the Account he received of his Son, that he enquired no further, but ſtalked away with more than ordinary Majeſty over the green Meadow that lay before them.

This laſt Circumſtance of a deceaſed Father's rejoicing in the Behaviour of his Son, is very finely contrived by Homer, as an Incentive to Virtue, and made uſe of by none that I know beſides himſelf.

The Deſcription of Ajax, which follows, and his refuſing to ſpeak to Ulyſſes, who had won the Armour of Achilles from him, and by that Means occaſioned his Death, is admired by every one that reads it. When Ulyſſes relates the Sullen⯑neſs of his Deportment, and conſiders the Great⯑neſs of the Hero, he expreſſes himſelf with ge⯑nerous and noble Sentiments. Oh! that I had never gained a Prize which coſt the Life of ſo brave a Man as Ajax! Who, for the Beauty of his Perſon, and Greatneſs of his Actions, was inferior to none but the Divine Achilles. The ſame noble Con⯑deſcenſion, which never dwells but in truly great Minds, and ſuch as Homer would repreſent that of Ulyſſes to have been, diſcovers it ſelf likewiſe in the Speech which he made to the Ghoſt of Ajax on that Occaſion. Oh Ajax! ſays he, Will you keep your Reſentments even after Death? What Deſtructions hath this fatal Armour brought upon the Greeks, by robbing them of you, who were their Bulwark and Defence? Achilles is not more bitter⯑ly lamented among us than you. Impute not then your Death to any one but Jupiter, who out of his Anger to the Greeks, took you away from among them: Let me entreat you to approach me; reſtrain [188] the Fierceneſs of your Wrath, and the Greatneſs of your Soul, and bear what I have to ſay to you. Ajax, without making a Reply, turned his Back upon him, and retired into a Crowd of Ghoſts.

Ulyſſes, after all theſe Viſions, took a View of thoſe impious Wretches who lay in Tortures for the Crimes they had committed upon the Earth, whom he deſcribes under all the Varieties of Pain, as ſo many Marks of Divine Vengeance, to deter others from following their Example. He then tells us, That notwithſtanding he had a great Curioſity to ſee the Hero's that lived in the Ages before him, the Ghoſts began to ga⯑ther about him in ſuch prodigious Multitudes, and with ſuch a Confuſion of Voices, that his Heart trembled as he ſaw himſelf amidſt ſo great a Scene of Horrors. He adds, That he was afraid leſt ſome hideous Spectre ſhould ap⯑pear to him, that might terrify him to Diſtraction; and therefore withdrew in Time.

I queſtion not but my Reader will be pleaſed with this Deſcription of a future State, repre⯑ſented by ſuch a noble and fruitful Imagination, that had nothing to direct it beſides the Light of Nature, and the Opinions of a dark and ig⯑norant Age.

I Have heard of a very valuable Picture, where⯑in all the Painters of the Age in which it was drawn, are repreſented ſitting together in a Cir⯑cle, [189] and joining in a Conſort of Muſick. Each of them plays upon ſuch a particular Inſtrument as is the moſt ſuitable to his Character, and ex⯑preſſes that Style and Manner of Painting which is peculiar to him. The famous Cupola-Painter of thoſe Times, to ſhow the Grandeur and Bold⯑neſs of his Figures, hath a Horn in his Mouth, which he ſeems to wind with great Strength and Force. On the contrary, an eminent Artiſt, who wrought up his Pictures with the greateſt Accu⯑racy, and gave them all thoſe delicate Touches which are apt to pleaſe the niceſt Eye, is repre⯑ſented as tuning a Theorbo. The ſame Kind of Humour runs through the whole Piece.

I have often from this Hint imagined to my ſelf, that different Talents in Diſcourſe might be ſhadowed out after the ſame Manner by different Kinds of Muſick; and that the ſeveral converſa⯑ble Parts of Mankind in this great City, might be caſt into proper Characters and Diviſions, as they reſemble ſeveral Inſtruments that are in Uſe among the Maſters of Harmony. Of theſe therefore in their Order, and Firſt of the Drum.

Your Drums are the Bluſterers in Converſation, that with a loud Laugh, unnatural Mirth, and a Torrent of Noiſe, domineer in publick Aſſem⯑blies, over-bear Men of Senſe, ſtun their Com⯑panions, and fill the Place they are in with a rat⯑ling Sound, that hath ſeldom any Wit, Humour, or good Breeding in it. The Drum notwith⯑ſtanding, by this boiſterous Vivacity, is very proper to impoſe upon the Ignorant; and in Converſation with Ladies, who are not of the fineſt Taſt, often paſſes for a Man of Mirth and Wit, and for wonderful pleaſant Company. I need not obſerve, that the Emptineſs of the Drum very much contributes to its Noiſe.

The Lute is a Character directly oppoſite to the Drum, that ſounds very finely by it ſelf, or [190] in a very ſmall Conſort. Its Notes are exquiſite⯑ly ſweet, and very low, eaſily drowned in a Multitude of Inſtruments, and even loſt among a few, unleſs you give a particular Attention to it. A Lute is ſeldom heard in a Company of more then Five, whereas a Drum will ſhow it ſelf to Advantage in an Aſſembly of Five hun⯑dred. The Lutaniſts therefore are Men of a fine Genius, uncommon Reflection, great Affability, and eſteemed chiefly by Perſons of a good Taſt, who are the only proper Judges of ſo delightful and ſoft a Melody.

The Trumpet is an Inſtrument that has in it no Compaſs of Muſick, or Variety of Sound, but is notwithſtanding very agreeable, ſo long as it keeps within its Pitch. It has not above Four or Five Notes, which are however very pleaſing, and capable of exquiſite Turns and Modulations. The Gentlemen who fall under this Denomina⯑tion, are your Men of the moſt faſhionable Edu⯑cation and refined Breeding, who have learned a certain Smoothneſs of Diſcourſe, and Sprightli⯑neſs of Air, from the polite Company they have kept; but at the ſame Time have ſhallow Parts, weak Judgments, and a ſhort Reach of Under⯑ſtanding: A Playhouſe, a Drawing-Room, a Ball, a Viſiting-Day, or a Ring at Hide-Park, are the few Notes they are Maſters of, which they touch upon in all Converſations. The Trumpet how⯑ever is a neceſſary Inſtrument about a Court, and a proper Enlivener of a Conſort, tho' of no great Harmony by it ſelf.

Violins are the lively, forward, importunate Wits, that diſtinguiſh themſelves by the Flou⯑riſhes of Imagination, Sharpneſs of Repartee, Glances of Satyr, and bear away the upper Part in every Conſort. I cannot however but obſerve, That when a Man is not diſpos'd to hear Muſick, there is not a more diſagreeable Sound in Har⯑mony than that of a Violin.

[191] There is another Muſical Inſtrument, which is more frequent in this Nation than any other; I mean your Baſs-Viol, which grumbles in the Bottom of the Conſort, and with a ſurly Maſcu⯑line Sound ſtrengthens the Harmony, and tem⯑pers the Sweetneſs of the ſeveral Inſtruments that play along with it. The Baſs-Viol is an In⯑ſtrument of a quiet different Nature to the Trum⯑pet, and may ſignifie Men of rough Senſe, and un⯑poliſh'd Parts, who do not love to hear themſelves talk, but ſometimes break out with an agreeable Bluntleſs, unexpected Wit, and ſu [...]ly Pleaſantries, to the no ſmall Diverſion of their Friends and Companions. In ſhort, I look upon every ſen⯑ſible true-born Britain to be naturally a Baſs-Viol.

As for your Rural Wits, who talk with great Eloquence and Alacrity of Foxes, Hounds, Hor⯑ſes, Quickſet Hedges, and Six-Bar Gates, double Ditches, and broken Necks, I am in Doubt, whether I ſhould give them a Place in the con⯑verſable World. However, if they will content themſelves with being raiſed to the Dignity of Hunting-Horns, I ſhall deſire for the future that they may be known by that Name.

I muſt not here omit the Bagpipe Species, that will entertain you from Morning to Night with the Repetition of a few Notes, which are play'd over and over, with the perpetual Humming of a Drone running underneath them. Theſe are your dull, heavy, tedious Story Tellers, the Load and Burthen of Converſations, that ſet up for Men of Importance, by knowing ſecret Hiſtory, and giving an Account of Tranſactions, that whether they ever paſſed in the World or not, doth not ſignify an Halfpenny to its Inſtruction, or its Wel⯑fare. Some have obſerved, That the Northern Parts of this Iſland are more particularly fruitful in Bagpipes.

[192] There are ſo very few Perſons who are Maſters in every Kind of Converſation, and can talk on all Subjects, that I don't know whether we ſhould make a diſtinct Species of them: Never⯑theleſs, that my Scheme may not be defective, for the Sake of thoſe few who are endowed with ſuch extraordinary Talents, I ſhall allow them to be Harpſicords, a Kind of Muſick which every one knows is a Conſort by it ſelf.

As for your Paſſing-Bells, who look upon Mirth as Criminal, and talk of nothing but what is melancholy in it ſelf, and mortifying to Hu⯑mane Nature, I ſhall not mention them.

I ſhall likewiſe paſs over in Silence all the Rabble of Mankind, that crowd our Streets, Cof⯑fee-houſes, Feaſts, and publick Tables. I can⯑not call their Diſcourſe Converſation, but rather ſomething that is practiſed in Imitation of it. For which Reaſon, if I would deſcribe them by any Muſical Inſtrument, it ſhould be by thoſe modern Inventions of the Bladder and String, Tongs and Key, Marrow-Bone and Cleaver.

My Reader will doubtleſs obſerve, That I have only touched here upon Male Inſtruments, ha⯑ving reſerved my Female Conſort to another Oc⯑caſion. If he has a Mind to know where theſe ſeveral Characters are to be met with, I could direct him to a whole Club of Drums; not to mention another of Bagpipes, which I have be⯑fore given ſome Account of in my Deſcription of our Nightly Meetings in Sheer-Lane. The Lutes may often be met with in Couples upon the Banks of a Chryſtal Stream, or in the Retreats of ſhady Woods and flowry Meadows; which for different Reaſons are likewiſe the great Re⯑ſort of your Hunting-Horns. Baſs-Viols are fre⯑quently to be found over a Glaſs of ſtale Beer and a Pipe of Tobacco; whereas thoſe who ſet up for Violins, ſeldom fail to make their Appea⯑rance at Will's once every Evening. You may [193] meet with a Trumpet any where on the other Side of Charing-Croſs.

That we may draw ſomething for our Advan⯑tage in Life out of the foregoing Diſcourſe, I muſt entreat my Reader to make a narrow Search into his Life and Converſation, and upon his lea⯑ving any Company, to examine himſelf ſeri⯑ouſly, whether he has behaved himſelf in it like a Drum or a Trumpet, a Violin or a Baſs-Viol; and accordingly endeavour to mend his Muſick for the future. For my own Part, I muſt confeſs, I was a Drum for many Years; nay, and a very noiſy one, till having poliſhed my ſelf a little in good Company, I threw as much of the Trum⯑pet into my Converſation as was poſſible for a Man of an impetuous Temper, by which Mixture of different Muſicks, I look upon my ſelf, during the Courſe of many Years, to have reſembled a Tabor and Pipe. I have ſince very much endea⯑voured at the Sweetneſs of the Lute; but in Spight of all my Reſolutions, I muſt confeſs with great Confuſion, that I find my ſelf daily degenerating into a Bagpipe; whether it be the Effect of my old Age, or of the Company I keep, I know not. All that I can do, is to keep a Watch over my Converſation, and to ſilence the Drone as ſoon as I find it begin to hum in my Diſcourſe, being determined ra⯑ther to hear the Notes of others, than to play out of Time, and incroach upon their Parts in the Conſort by the Noiſe of ſo tireſome an In⯑ſtrument.

I ſhall conclude this Paper with a Letter which I received laſt Night from a Friend of mine, who knows very well my Notions upon this Subject, and invites me to paſs the Even⯑ing at his Houſe, with a ſelect Company of Friends, in the following Words:

WE have already examined Homer's De⯑ſcription of a Future State, and the Con⯑dition in which he hath placed the Souls of the Deceaſed. I ſhall in this Paper make ſome Ob⯑ſervations on the Account which Virgil hath gi⯑ven us of the ſame Subject, who, beſides a Great⯑neſs of Genius, had all the Lights of Philoſophy and Humane Learning to aſſiſt and guide him in his Diſcoveries.

Aeneas is repreſented as deſcending into the Empire of Death, with a Propheteſs by his Side, who inſtructs him in the Secrets of thoſe lower Regions.

Upon the Confines of the Dead, and before the very Gates of this infernal World, Virgil deſcribes ſeveral Inhabitants, whoſe Natures are wonder⯑fully ſuited to the Situation of the Place, as be⯑ing either the Occaſions or Reſemblances of [195] Death. Of the firſt Kind are the Shadows of Sickneſs, Old Age, Fear, Famine, and Poverty; (Apparitions very terrible to behold) with ſeve⯑ral others, as Toil, War, Contention, and Diſ⯑cord, which contribute all of them to people this common Receptacle of humane Souls. As this was likewiſe a very proper Reſidence for every Thing that reſembles Death, the Poet tells us, That Sleep, whom he repreſents as a near Relation to Death, has likewiſe his Habitation in theſe Quarters, and deſcribes in them a huge gloomy Elm-Tree, which ſeems a very proper Ornament for the Place, and is poſſeſſed by an innumerable Swarm of Dreams, that hang in Cluſters under every Leaf of it. He then gives us a Liſt of imaginary Perſons, who very natu⯑rally lie within the Shadow of the Dream-Tree, as being of the ſame Kind of Make in them⯑ſelves, and the Materials or (to uſe Shakeſpeare's Phraſe) the Stuff of which Dreams are made. Such are the Shades of the Giant with a Hun⯑dred Hands, and of his Brother with Three Bo⯑dies; of the double-ſhap'd Centaur, and Sylla; the Gorgon with Snakey Hair; the Harpy with a Woman's Face and Lion's Talons; the Seven⯑headed Hydra; and the Chimaera, which breaths forth a Flame, and is a Compound of Three Animals. Theſe ſeveral mix'd Natures, the Creatures of Imagination, are not only introdu⯑ced with great Art after the Dreams, but as they are planted at the very Entrance, and with⯑in the very Gates of thoſe Regions, do probably denote the wild Deliriums and Extravagancies of Fancy, which the Soul uſually falls into when ſhe is juſt upon the Verge of Death.

Thus far Aeneas travels in an Allegory. The reſt of the Deſcription is drawn with great Ex⯑actneſs, according to the Religion of the Hea⯑thens, and the Opinions of the Platonick Philo⯑ſophy. I ſhall not trouble my Reader with a com⯑mon [196] dull Story, that gives an Account why the Heathens firſt of all ſuppoſed a Ferryman in Hell, and his Name to be Charon; but muſt not paſs over in Silence the Point of Doctrine which Vir⯑gil hath very much inſiſted upon in this Book, That the Souls of thoſe who are unburied, are not permitted to go over into their reſpective Places of Reſt, till they have wandered a Hun⯑dred Years upon the Banks of Styx. This was probably an Invention of the Heathen Prieſt⯑hood, to make the People extremely careful of performing proper Rights and Ceremonies to the Memory of the Dead. I ſhall not however, with the infamous Scribblers of the Age, take an Oc⯑caſion from ſuch a Circumſtance, to run into Declamations againſt Prieſtcraft, but rather look upon it even in this Light as a Religious Artifice, to raiſe in the Minds of Men an Eſteem for the Memory of their Forefathers, and a Deſire to recommend themſelves to that of Poſterity; as alſo to excite in them an Ambition of imitating the Virtues of the Deceaſed, and to keep alive in their Thoughts the Senſe of the Soul's Immor⯑tality. In a Word, we may ſay in Defence of the ſevere Opinions relating to the Shades of unburied Perſons, what hath been ſaid by ſome of our Divines in regard to the rigid Doctrines concerning the Souls of ſuch who die without being initiated into our Religion, That ſuppoſing they ſhould be erroneous, they can do no Hurt to the Dead, and will have a good Effect upon the Living, in making them cautious of neg⯑lecting ſuch neceſſary Solemnities.

Charon is no ſooner appeas'd, and the Triple⯑headed Dog laid aſleep, but Aeneas makes his Entrance into the Dominions of Pluto. There are Three Kinds of Perſons deſcribed, as being ſituated on the Borders; and I can give no Rea⯑ſon for their being ſtationed there in ſo particular a Manner, but becauſe they none of them ſeem [197] to have had a proper Right to a Place among the Dead, as not having run out the whole Thread of their Days, and finiſhed the Term of Life that had been allotted them upon Earth. The Firſt of theſe are the Souls of Infants, who are ſnatched away by untimely Ends: The Second, are of thoſe who are put to Death wrongfully, and by an unjuſt Sentence; and the Third, of thoſe who grew weary of their Lives, and laid violent Hands upon themſelves. As for the Second of theſe, Virgil adds with great Beauty, That Mi⯑nos, the Judge of the Dead, is employed in giving them a Rehearing, and aſſigning them their ſeveral Quarters ſuitable to the Parts they acted in Life. The Poet, after having mentioned the Souls of thoſe unhappy Men who deſtroyed themſelves, breaks out into a fine Exclamation; Oh! how gladly, ſays he, would they now endure Life with all its Miſeries! But the Deſtinies forbid their Return to Earth, and the Waters of Styx ſur⯑round them with Nine Streams that are unpaſſable. It is very remarkable, that Virgil, notwithſtand⯑ing Self-murther was ſo frequent among the Heathens, and had been practiſed by ſome of the greateſt Men in the very Age before him, hath here repreſented it as ſo heinous a Crime. But in this Particular he was guided by the Doctrines of his great Maſter Plato, who ſays on this Sub⯑ject, That a Man is placed in his Station of Life like a Soldier in his proper Poſt, which he is not to quit whatever may happen, until he is called off by his Commander who planted him in it.

There is another Point in the Platonick Philo⯑ſophy, which Virgil has made the Ground-work of the greateſt Part in the Piece we are now exa⯑mining, having with wonderful Art and Beauty materializ'd (if I may ſo call it) a Scheme of ab⯑ſtracted Notions, and cloathed the moſt nice re⯑fined Conceptions of Philoſophy in Senſible Ima⯑ges, [198] and Poetical Repreſentations. The Plato⯑niſts tell us, That the Soul, during her Reſi⯑dence in the Body, contracts many virtuous and vicious Habits, ſo as to become a beneficient, mild, charitable, or an angry, malicious, re⯑vengeful Being: A Subſtance inflam'd with Luſt, Avarice, and Pride; or, on the contrary, bright⯑en'd with pure, generous, and humble Diſpoſi⯑tions: That theſe and the like Habits of Virtue and Vice growing into the very Eſſence of the Soul, ſurvive and gather Strength in her after her Diſſolution: That the Torments of a vicious Soul in a future State ariſe principally from thoſe importunate Paſſions which are not capable of being gratified without a Body; and that on the contrary, the Happineſs of virtuous Minds very much conſiſts in their being employed in ſublime Speculatins, innocent Diverſions, ſociable Af⯑fections, and all the Extaſies of Paſſion and Rap⯑ture which are agreeable to reaſonable Na⯑tures, and of which they gained a Reliſh in this Life.

Upon this Foundation, the Poet raiſes that beautiful Deſcription of the ſecret Haunts and Walks, which he tells us are inhabited by de⯑ceaſed Lovers.

Not far from hence, ſays he, lies a great Waſt of Plains, that are called the Fields of Melan⯑choly. In theſe there grows a Forreſt of Myrtle, divided into many ſhady Retirements and cover⯑ed Walks, and inhabited by the Souls of thoſe who pined away with Love. The Paſſion, ſays he, continues with them after Death. He then gives a Liſt of this languiſhing Tribe, in which his own Dido makes the principal Figure, and is deſcrib'd as living in this ſoft Romantick Scene, with the Shade of her firſt Husband Sy⯑chaeus.

The Poet in the next Place mentions another Plain that was peopled with the Ghoſts of War⯑riors [199] as ſtill delighting in each other's Com⯑pany, and pleaſed with the Exerciſe of Arms. He there repreſents the Graecian Generals and common Soldiers who periſhed in the Siege of Troy as drawn up in Squadrons, and terrified at the Approach of Aeneas, which renewed in them thoſe Impreſſions of Fear they had before re⯑ceived in Battle with the Trojans. He afterwards likewiſe, upon the ſame Notion, gives a View of the Trojan Heroes who lived in former Ages, amidſt a viſionary Scene of Chariots and Arms, flowry Meadows, ſhining Spears, and generous Steeds, which he tells us were their Pleaſures upon Earth, and now make up their Happineſs in Elyſium. For the ſame Reaſon alſo, he men⯑tions others as ſinging Paeans, and Songs of Tri⯑umph, amidſt a beautiful Grove of Laurel. The Chief of the Conſort was the Poet Muſaeus, who ſtood incloſed with a Circle of Admirers, and roſe by the Head and Shoulders above the Throng of Shades that ſurrounded him. The Habita⯑tions of unhappy Spirits, to ſhew the Duration of their Torments, and the deſperate Condition they are in, are repreſented as guarded by a Fury, moated round with a Lake of Fire, ſtreng⯑thened with Towers of Iron, encompaſſed with a triple Wall, and fortified with Pillars of Ada⯑mant, which all the Gods together are not able to heave from their Foundations. The Noiſe of Stripes, the Clank of Chains, and the Groans of the Tortured, ſtrike the poius Aeneas with a kind of Horror. The Poet afterwards divides the Criminals into two Claſſes: The firſt and blackeſt Catalogue conſiſts of ſuch as were guil⯑ty of Outrages againſt the Gods; and the next, of ſuch who were convicted of Injuſtice between Man and Man: The greateſt Number of whom, ſays the Poet, are thoſe who followed the Dictates of Avarice.

[200] It was an Opinion of the Platoniſts, That the Souls of Men having contracted in the Body great Stains and Pollutions of Vice and Ignorance, there were ſeveral Purgations and Cleanſings ne⯑ceſſary to be paſſed through both here and here⯑after, in order to refine and purify them.

Virgil, to give this Thought likewiſe a Cloath⯑ing of Poetry, deſcribes ſome Spirits as bleaching in the Winds, others as cleanſing under great Falls of Waters, and others as purging in Fire to recover the primitive Beauty and Purity of their Natures.

It was likewiſe an Opinion of the ſame Sect of Philoſophers, That the Souls of all Men exiſt in a ſeparate State, long before their Union with their Bodies; and that upon their Immerſion in⯑to Fleſh, they forget every Thing which paſſed in the State of Pre-exiſtence; ſo that what we here call Knowledge, is nothing elſe but Memory, or the Recovery of thoſe Things which we knew before.

In purſuance of this Scheme, Virgil gives us a View of ſeveral Souls, who, to prepare them⯑ſelves for living upon Earth, flock about the Banks of the River Lethe, and ſwill themſelves with the Waters of Oblivion.

The ſame Scheme gives him an Opportunity of making a noble Compliment to his Countrymen, where Anchiſes is repreſented taking a Survey of the long Train of Heroes that are to deſcend from him, and giving his Son Aeneas an Account of all the Glories of his Race.

I need not mention the Revolution of the Pla⯑tonick Year, which is but juſt touched upon in this Book; and as I have conſulted no Authors Thoughts in this Explication, ſhall be very well pleaſed, if it can make the nobleſt Piece of the moſt accompliſhed Poet more agreeable to my female Readers, when they think ſit to look in⯑to Dryden's Tranſlation of it.

THere lived ſome Years ſince within my Neighbourhood a very grave Perſon, an Upholſterer, who ſeemed a Man of more than ordinary Application to Buſineſs. He was a very early Riſer, and was often abroad Two or Three Hours before any of his Neighbours. He had a particular Carefulneſs in the knitting of his Brows, and a kind of Impatience in all his Motions, that plainly diſcovered he was always intent on Matters of Importance. Upon my Enquiry in⯑to his Life and Converſation, I found him to be the greateſt Newſmonger in our Quarter; that he roſe before Day to read the Poſt-Man; and that he would take Two or Three Turns to the other End of the Town before his Neighbours were up, to ſee if there were any Dutch Mails come in. He had a Wife and ſeveral Children; but was much more inquiſitive to know what paſſed in Poland than in his own Family, and was in greater Pain and Anxiety of Mind for King Auguſtus's Welfare than that of his neareſt Rela⯑tions. He looked extremely thin in a Dearth of News, and never enjoyed himſelf in a Weſterly Wind. This indefatigable kind of Life was the Ruin of his Shop; for about the Time that his Favourite Prince left the Crown of Poland, he broke and diſappeared.

[202] This Man and his Affairs had been long out of my Mind, till about Three Days ago, as I was walking in St. James's Park, I heard ſome body at a Diſtance hemming after me: And who ſhould it be but my old Neighbour the Upholſterer? I ſaw he was reduced to extreme Poverty, by certain ſhabby Superfluities in his Dreſs: For notwithſtand⯑ing that it was a very ſultry Day for the Time of the Year, he wore a looſe great Coat and a Muff, with a long Campaign-Wig out of Curl; to which he had added the Ornament of a Pair of black Garters buckled under the Knee. Upon his coming up to me, I was going to enquire into his preſent Circumſtances; but was pre⯑vented by his asking me, with a Whiſper, Whe⯑ther the laſt Letters brought any Accounts that one might rely upon from Bender? I told him, None that I heard of; and asked him, Whether he had yet married his eldeſt Daughter? He told me, No. But pray, ſays he, tell me ſincerely, What are your Thoughts of the King of Sweden? For tho' his Wife and Children were ſtarving, I found his chief Concern at preſent was for this great Monarch. I told him, That I looked upon him as one of the firſt Heroes of the Age. But pray, ſays he, do you think there is any Thing in the Story of his Wound? And finding me ſur⯑priſed at the Queſtion, Nay, ſays he, I only pro⯑poſe it to you. I anſwered, That I thought there was no Reaſon to doubt of it. But why in the Heel. ſays he, more than in any other Part of the Body? Becauſe, ſays I, the Bullet chanced to light there.

This extraordinary Dialogue was no ſ one ended, but he began to launch out into a long Diſſertation upon the Affairs of the North; and after having ſpent ſome Time on them, he told me, He was in a great Perplexity how to recon⯑cile the Supplement with the Engliſh-Poſt, and had been juſt now examining what the other Papers [203] ſay upon the ſame Subject. The Daily Courant, ſays he, has theſe Words, We have Advices from very good Hands, That a certain Prince has ſome Matters of great Importance under Conſideration. This is very myſterious; but the Poſt-Boy leaves us more in the Dark, for he tells us, That there are private Intimations of Meaſures taken by a certain Prince, which Time will bring to Light. Now the Poſt-Man, ſays he, who uſes to be very clear, refers to the ſame News in theſe Words; The late Conduct of a certain Prince affords great Matter of Speculation. This certain Prince, ſays the Upholſterer, whom they are all ſo cautious of naming, I take to be—Upon which, tho' there was no Body near us, he whiſpered ſomething in my Ear, which I did not hear, or think worth my while to make him repeat.

We were now got to the upper End of the Mall, where were Three or Four very odd Fel⯑lows ſitting together upon the Bench. Theſe I found were all of them Politicians, who uſed to Sun themſelves in that Place every Day about Dinner-Time. Obſerving them to be Curioſities in their Kind, and my Friend's Acquaintance, I ſat down among them.

The chief Politician of the Bench was a great Aſſerter of Paradoxes. He told us, with a ſeem⯑ing Concern, That by ſome News he had lately read from Muſcovy, it appeared to him that there was a Storm gathering in the Black Sea, which might in Time do Hurt to the Naval Forces of this Nation. To this he added, That for his Part, he could not wiſh to ſee the Turk driven out of Europe, which he believed could not but be prejudicial to our Woollen Manufacture. He then told us, That he looked upon thoſe extraor⯑dinary Revolutions which had lately happened in theſe Parts of the World, to have riſen chiefly from Two Perſons who were not much talked of; and thoſe, ſays he, are Prince Menzikoff, and [204] the Dutcheſs of Mirandola. He back'd his Aſ⯑ſertions with ſo many broken Hints, and ſuch a Show of Depth and Wiſdom, that we gave our ſelves up to his Opinions.

The Diſcourſe at length fell upon a Point which ſeldom eſcapes a Knot of true-born Engliſh⯑men, Whether in Caſe of a Religious War, the Proteſtants would not be too ſtrong for the Pa⯑piſts? This we unanimouſly determined on the Proteſtant Side. One who ſat on my Right Hand, and, as I found by his Diſcourſe, had been in the Weſt-Indies, aſſured us, That it would be a very eaſie Matter for the Proteſtants to beat the Pope at Sea; and added, That whenever ſuch a War does break out, it muſt turn to the Good of the Leeward Iſlands. Upon this, one who ſat at the End of the Bench, and, as I afterwards found, was the Geographer of the Company, ſaid, That in caſe the Papiſts ſhould drive the Proteſtants from theſe Parts of Europe, when the worſt came to the worſt, it would be impoſſible to beat them out of Norway and Greenland, provided the Nor⯑thern Crowns hold together, and the Czar of Muſcavy ſtand Neuter.

He further told us for our Comfort, That there were vaſt Tracts of Land about the Pole, in⯑habited neither by Proteſtants nor Papiſts, and of greater Extent than all the Roman Catholick Do⯑minions in Europe.

When we had fully diſcuſſed this Point, my Friend the Upholſterer began to exert himſelf upon the preſent Negotiations of Peace, in which he depoſed Princes, ſettled the Bounds of King⯑doms, and ballanced the Power of Europe, with great Juſtice and Impartiality.

I at length took my Leave of the Company, and was going away; but had not been gone Thirty Yards, before the Upholſterer hemm'd again after me. Upon his advancing towards me, with a Whiſper, I expected to hear ſome ſecret [205] Piece of News, which he had not thought fit to communicate to the Bench; but inſtead of that, he deſired me in my Ear to lend him Half a Crown. In Compaſſion to ſo needy a Stateſman, and to diſſipate the Confuſion I found he was in, I told him, if he pleaſed, I would give him Five Shillings, to receive Five Pounds of him when the Great Turk was driven out of Conſt intinople; which he very readily accepted, but not before he had laid down to me the Impoſſibility of ſuch an Event, as the Affairs of Europe now ſtand.

This Paper I deſign for the particular Benefit of thoſe worthy Citizens who live more in a Coffee-houſe than in their Shops, and whoſe Thoughts are ſo taken up with the Affairs of the Allies, that they forget their Cuſtomers.

WE have already deſcribed out of Homer the Voyage of Ulyſſes to the Infernal Shades, with the ſeveral Adventures that attended it. If we look into the beautiful Romance publiſhed not many Years ſince by the Archbiſhop of Cam⯑bray, we may ſee the Son of Ulyſſes bound on the ſame Expedition, and after the ſame Manner making his Diſcoveries among the Regions of the Dead. The Story of Telemachus is formed altogether in the Spirit of Homer, and will give an unlearned Reader a Notion of that great Poet's Manner of Writing, more than any Tranſlation of him can poſſibly do. As it was written for [206] the Inſtruction of a young Prince, who may one Day ſit upon the Throne of France, the Author took Care to ſuit the ſeveral Parts of his Story, and particularly the Deſcription we are now en⯑tring upon, to the Character and Quality of his Pupil. For which Reaſon, he inſiſts very much on the Miſery of bad, and the Happineſs of good Kings, in the Account he hath given of Puniſh⯑ments and Rewards in the other World.

We may however obſerve, notwithſtanding the Endeavours of this great and learned Author, to copy after the Style and Sentiments of Homer, that there is a certain Tincture of Chriſtianity running through the whole Relation. The Prelate in ſeveral Places mixes himſelf with the Poet; ſo that his future State puts me in Mind of Michael Angelo's Laſt Judgment, where Charon and his Boat are repreſented as bearing a Part in the dreadful Solemnities of that great Day.

Telemachus, after having paſſed through the dark Avenues of Death in the Retinue of Mer⯑cury, who every Day delivers up a certain Tale of Ghoſts to the Ferryman of Styx, is admitted into the Infernal Bark. Among the Companions of his Voyage, is the Shade of Nabopharzon, a King of Babylon, and Tyrant of all the Eaſt. Among the Ceremonies and Pomps of his Funeral, there were Four Slaves ſacrificed, according to the Cu⯑ſtom of the Country, in order to attend him a⯑mong the Shades. The Author having deſcribed this Tyrant in the moſt odious Colours of Pride, Inſolence, and Cruelty, tells us, That his Four Slaves, inſtead of ſerving him after Death, were perpetually inſulting him with Reproaches and Affronts for his paſt Uſage; That they ſpurn'd him as he lay upon the Ground, and forc'd him to ſhow his Face, which he would fain have co⯑vered, as lying under all the Confuſions of Guilt and Infamy; and in ſhort, that they kept him [207] bound in a Chain, in order to drag him before the Tribunal of the Dead.

Telemachus, upon looking out of the Bark, ſees all the Strand covered with an innumerable Mul⯑titude of Shades, who, upon his jumping aſhore, immediately vaniſhed. He then purſues his Courſe to the Palace of Pluto, who is deſcribed as ſeated on his Throne in terrible Majeſty, with Proſerpine by his Side. At the Foot of his Throne was the pale hideous Spectre, who, by the Ghaſtlineſs of his Viſage, and the Nature of the Apparitions that ſurrounded him, diſcovers him⯑ſelf to be Death. His Attendants are, Melan⯑choly, Diſtruſt, Revenge, Hatred, Avarice, De⯑ſpair, Ambition, Envy, Impiety, with frightful Dreams, and waking Cares, which are all drawn very naturally in proper Actions and Poſtures. The Author, with great Beauty, places near his frightful Dreams an Aſſembly of Phantoms, which are often employed to terrify the Living, by appearing in the Shape and Likeneſs of the Dead.

The young Hero in the next Place takes a Survey of the different Kinds of Criminals that lay in Torture among Clouds of Sulphur, and Torrents of Fire. The Firſt of theſe were ſuch as had been guilty of Impieties, which every one hath an Horror for: To which is added, a Catalogue of ſuch Offenders that ſcarce appear to be faulty in the Eyes of the Vulgar. Among theſe, ſays the Author, are malicious Criticks, that have endeavoured to caſt a Blemiſh upon the Perfections of others; with whom he likewiſe places ſuch as have often hurt the Reputation of the Innocent, by paſſing a raſh Judgment on their Actions, without knowing the Occaſion of them. Theſe Crimes, ſays he, are more ſe⯑verely puniſhed after Death, becauſe they gene⯑rally meet with Impunity upon Earth.

[208] Telemachus, after having taken a Survey of ſe⯑veral other Wretches in the ſame Circumſtances, arrives at that Region of Torments in which wicked Kings are puniſhed. The e are very fine Strokes of Imagination in the Deſcription which he gives of this unhappy Multitude. He tells us, That on one Side of them there ſtood a re⯑vengeſul Fury, thundering in their Ears inceſſant Repetitions of all the Crimes they had commit⯑ted upon Earth, with the Aggravations of Am⯑bition, Vanity, Hardneſs of Heart, and all thoſe ſecret Affections of Mind that enter into the Compoſition of a Tyrant. At the ſame Time, ſhe holds up to them a large Mirror, in which every one ſees himſelf repreſented in the natural Horror and Deformity of his Character. On the other Side of them ſtands another Fury, that with an inſulting Deriſion, repeats to them all the Praiſes that their Flatterers had beſtowed upon them while they ſat upon their reſpective Thrones. She too, ſays the Author, preſents a Mirror before their Eyes, in which every one ſees himſelf adorn'd with all thoſe Beauties and Perfections in which they had been drawn by the Vanity of their own Hearts, and the Flattery of others. To puniſh them for the Wantonneſs of the Cruelty which they formerly exerciſed, they are now delivered up to be treated according to the Fancy and Caprice of ſeveral Slaves, who have here an Opportunity of tyrannizing in their Turns.

The Author having given us a Deſcription of theſe ghaſtly Spectres, who, ſays he, are always calling upon Death, and are placed under the Diſtillation of that burning Vengeance which falls upon them Drop by Drop, and is never to be exhauſted, leads us into a pleaſing Scene of Groves, filled with the Melody of Birds, and the Odours of a Thouſand different Plants. Theſe Groves are repreſented as riſing among a great [209] many flowry Meadows, and watered with Streams that diffuſe a perpetual Freſhneſs, in the midſt of an eternal Day, and a never-fading Spring. This, ſays the Author, was the Habitation of thoſe good Princes who were Friends of the Gods, and Parents of the People. Among theſe, Telemachus converſes with the Shade of one of his Anceſtors, who makes a moſt agreeable Re⯑lation of the Joys of Elyſium, and the Nature of its Inhabitants. The Reſidence of Seſoſtris a⯑mong theſe happy Shades, with his Character and preſent Employment, is drawn in a very lively Manner, and with a great Elevation of Thought.

The Deſcription of that pure and gentle Light which overflows theſe happy Regions, and cloaths the Spirits of theſe virtuous Perſons, hath ſomething in it of that Enthuſiaſm which this Author was accuſed of by his Enemies in the Church of Rome; but however it may look in Religion, it makes a very beautiful Figure in Poetry.

The Rays of the Sun, ſays he, are Darkneſs in Compariſon with this Light, which rather de⯑ſerves the Name of Glory, than that of Light. It pierces the thickeſt Bodies, in the ſame Man⯑ner as the Sun Beams paſs through Chryſtal: It ſtrengthens the Sight inſtead of dazzling it; and nouriſhes in the moſt inward Receſſes of the Mind, a perpetual Serenity that is not to be ex⯑preſs'd. It enters and incorporates it ſelf with the very Subſtance of the Soul: The Spirits of the Bleſſed feel it in all their Senſes, and in all their Perceptions. It produces a certain Source of Peace and Joy that ariſes in them for ever, running through all the Faculties, and refreſh⯑ing all the Deſires of the Soul. External Plea⯑ſures and Delights, with all their Charms and Allurements, are regarded with the utmoſt In⯑difference [210] and Neglect by theſe happy Spirits who have this great Principle of Pleaſure with⯑in them, drawing the whole Mind to its ſelf, calling off their Attention from the moſt de⯑lightful Objects, and giving them all the Tran⯑ſports of Inebriation, without the Confuſion and the Folly of it.

I have here only mentioned ſome Maſter-Touches of this admirable Piece, becauſe the Original it ſelf is underſtood by the greater Part of my Readers. I muſt confeſs, I take a parti⯑cular Delight in theſe Proſpects of Futurity, whether grounded upon the probable Suggeſtions of a fine Imagination, or the more ſevere Con⯑cluſions of Philoſophy; as a Man loves to hear all the Diſcoveries or Conjectures relating to a Foreign Country which he is, at ſome Time, to inhabit. Proſpects of this Nature lighten the Burden of any preſent Evil, and refreſh us under the worſt and loweſt Circumſtances of Mortality. They extinguiſh in us both the Fear and Envy of Humane Grandeur. Inſolence ſhrinks its Head, Power diſappears; Pain, Po⯑verty, and Death, fly before them. In ſhort, the Mind that is habituated to the lively Senſe of an Hereafter, can hope for what is the moſt terrifying to the Generality of Mankind, and re⯑joice in what is the moſt afflicting.

I Was laſt Night in an Aſſembly of very Fine Women. How I came among them, is of no great Importance to the Reader. I ſhall only let him know, that I was betrayed into ſo good Com⯑pany by the Device of an old Friend, who had promiſed to give ſome of his Female Acquain⯑tance a Sight of Mr. Bickerſtaff. Upon hearing my Name mentioned, a Lady who ſat by me told me, they had brought together a Female Conſort for my Entertainment. You muſt know, ſays ſhe, that we all of us look upon our ſelves to be Mu⯑ſical Inſtruments, though we do not yet know of what Kind, which we hope to learn from you, if you will give us Leave to play before you. This was followed by a general Laugh, which I always look upon as a neceſſary Flouriſh in the Opening of a Female Conſort. They then ſtruck up toge⯑ther, and play'd a whole Hour upon Two Grounds, viz. the Trial, and the Opera. I could not but obſerve, that ſeveral of their Notes were more ſoft, and ſeveral more ſharp, than any that ever I heard in a Male Conſort; though I muſt con⯑feſs, there was not any Regard to Time, nor any of thoſe Reſts and Pauſes which are frequent in the Harmony of the other Sex. Beſides, that the Muſick was generally full, and no particular In⯑ſtrument permitted to play long by its ſelf.

I ſeemed ſo very well pleaſed with what every one ſaid, and ſmiled with ſo much Complaiſance [212] at all their pretty Fancies, that though I did not put one Word into their Diſcourſe, I have the Vanity to think, they looked upon me as very agreeable Company. I then told 'em, That if I were to draw the Picture of ſo many charming Muſicians, it ſhould be like one I had ſeen of the Muſes, with their ſeveral Inſtruments in their Hands. Upon which the Lady Kettle-Drum toſ⯑ſed back her Head, and cry'd, A very pretty Si⯑mile! The Conſort again revived; in which, with Nods, Smiles, and Approbations, I bore the Part rather of one who beats the Time, than of a Per⯑former.

I was no ſooner retired to my Lodgings, but I ran over in my Thoughts the ſeveral Characters of this Fair Aſſembly, which I ſhall give ſome Account of, becauſe they are various in their Kind, and may each of them ſtand as a Sample of a whole Species.

The Perſon who pleaſed me moſt was a Flute, an Inſtrument that, without any great Compaſs, hath ſomething exquiſitely ſweet and ſoft in its Sound: It lulls and ſooths the Ear, and fills it with ſuch a gentle Kind of Melody, as keeps the Mind awake without ſtartling it, and raiſes a moſt agreeable Paſſion between Tranſport and Indo⯑lence. In ſhort, the Muſick of the Flute is the Converſation of a mild and amiable Woman, that has nothing in it very elevated, or at the ſame Time any Thing mean or trivial.

I muſt here obſerve, that the Hautboy is the moſt perfect of the Flute-Species, which, with all the Sweetneſs of the Sound, hath a great Strength and Variety of Notes; though at the ſame Time I muſt obſerve, that the Hautboy in one Sex is as ſcarce as the Harpſicord in the other.

By the Side of the Flute there ſat a Flageolet, for ſo I muſt call a certain young Lady, who fancying her ſelf a Wit, deſpiſed the Muſick of the Flute as low and inſipid, and would be enter⯑taining [213] the Company with tart ill-natured Obſer⯑vations, pert Fancies, and little Turns, which ſhe imagined to be full of Life and Spirit. The Fla⯑geolet therefore doth not differ from the Flute ſo much in the Compaſs of its Notes, as in the Shril⯑neſs and Sharpneſs of the Sound. We muſt how⯑ever take Notice, that the Flageolets among their own Sex are more valued and eſteemed than the Flutes.

There chanced to be a Coquet in the Conſort, that with a great many skittiſh Notes, affected Squeaks, and ſtudied Inconſiſtencies, diſtinguiſh'd her ſelf from the reſt of the Company. She did not ſpeak a Word during the whole Trial; but I thought ſhe would never have done upon the Opera. One while ſhe would break out upon, That hideous King! Then upon the charming Black-moor! Then, Oh that dear Lion! Then would hum over Two or Three Notes; then run to the Window to ſee what Coach was coming. The Coquet therefore I muſt diſtinguiſh by that Muſical Inſtrument which is commonly known by the Name of a Kit, that is more jiggiſh than the Fiddle it ſelf, and never ſounds but to a Dance.

The Fourth Perſon who bore a Part in the Con⯑verſation was a Prude, who ſtuck to the Trial, and was ſilent upon the whole Opera. The Gravi⯑ty of her Cenſures, and Compoſure of her Voice, which were often attended with ſupercilious Caſts of the Eye, and a ſeeming Contempt for the Lightneſs of the Converſation, put me in Mind of that ancient ſerious Matron-like Inſtrument the Virginal.

I muſt not paſs over in Silence a Lancaſhire Hornpipe, by which I would ſignify a young Country Lady, who with a great deal of Mirth and Innocence diverted the Company very agree⯑ably; and, if I am not miſtaken, by that Time the Wildneſs of her Notes is a little ſoftened, [214] and the Redundancy of her Muſick reſtrained by Converſation and good Company, will be im⯑proved into one of the moſt amiable Flutes about the Town. Your Romps and Boarding-School Girls fall likewiſe under this Denomination.

On the Right-Hand of the Hornpipe ſat a Welſh Harp, an Inſtrument which very much delights in the Tunes of old Hiſtorical Ballads, and in ce⯑lebrating the Renown'd Actions and Exploits of ancient Britiſh Heroes. By this Inſtrument I therefore would deſcribe a certain Lady, who is one of thoſe Female Hiſtorians that upon all Oc⯑caſions enters into Pedigrees and Deſcents, and finds her ſelf related, by ſome Off-ſhoot or other, to almoſt every great Family in England: For which Reaſon ſhe jarrs and is out of Tune very often in Converſation, for the Company's Want of due Attention and Reſpect to her.

But the moſt ſonorous Part of our Conſort was a She-Drum, or (as the Vulgar call it) a Kettle-Drum, who accompanied her Diſcourſe with Motions of the Body, Toſſes of the Head, and Brandiſhes of the Fan. Her Muſick was loud, bold, and maſculine. Every Thump ſhe gave, alarmed the Company, and very often ſet ſome Body or other in it a Bluſhing.

The laſt I ſhall mention was a certain Roman⯑tick Inſtrument called a Dulcimer, who talked of nothing but ſhady Woods, flowry Meadows, purling Streams, Larks and Nightingals, with all the Beauties of the Spring, and the Pleaſures of a Country Life. This Inſtrument hath a fine melancholy Sweetneſs in it, and goes very well with the Flute.

I think moſt of the converſable Part of Wo⯑mankind may be found under one of the forego⯑ing Diviſions; but it muſt be confeſſed, that the Generality of that Sex, notwithſtanding they have naturally a great Genius for being talkative, are not Miſtreſſes of more than one Note; with which [215] however, by frequent Repetition, they make a greater Sound than thoſe who are poſſeſſed of the whole Gammut, as may be obſerved in your La⯑rums or Houſhold Scolds, and in your Caſtanets or impertinent Tittle-Tattles, who have no other Variety in their Diſcourſe but that of talking ſlower or faſter.

Upon communicating this Scheme of Muſick to an old Friend of mine, who was formerly a Man of Gallantry and a Rover, he told me, That he believed he had been in Love with every In⯑ſtrument in my Conſort. The firſt that ſmit him was a Hornpipe, who lived near his Father's Houſe in the Country; but upon his failing to meet her at an Aſſize, according to Appointment, ſhe caſt him off. His next Paſſion was for a Ket⯑tle-Drum, whom he fell in Love with at a Play; but when he became acquainted with her, not finding the Softneſs of her Sex in her Converſa⯑tion, he grew cool to her; though at the ſame Time he could not deny, but that ſhe behaved her ſelf very much like a Gentlewoman. His Third Miſtreſs was a Dulcimer, who he found took great Delight in ſighing and languiſhing, but would go no further than the Preface of Matri⯑mony; ſo that ſhe would never let a Lover have any more of her than her Heart, which, after ha⯑ving won, he was forced to leave her, as deſpair⯑ing of any further Succeſs. I muſt confeſs, ſays my Friend, I have often conſidered her with a great deal of Admiration; and I find her Plea⯑ſure is ſo much in this firſt Step of an Amour, that her Life will paſs away in Dream, Solitude, and Soliloquy, till her Decay of Charms makes her ſnatch at the worſt Man that ever pretended to her. In the next Place, ſays my Friend, I fell in Love with a Kit, who led me ſuch a Dance through all the Varieties of a familiar, cold, fond, and indifferent Behaviour, that the World began to grow cenſorious, though without any Cauſe. [216] For which Reaſon, to recover our Reputations, we parted by Conſent. To mend my Hand, ſays he, I made my next Application to a Virginal, who gave me great Encouragement, after her cautious Manner, till ſome malicious Companion told her of my long Paſſion for the Kit, which made her turn me off as a ſcandalous Fellow. At length, in Deſpair, (ſays he) I betook my ſelf to a Welſh Harp, who rejected me with Contempt, after ha⯑ving found that my Great Grandmother was a Brewer's Daughter. I found by the Sequel of my Friend's Diſcourſe, that he had never aſpired to a Hautboy; that he had been exaſperated by a Fla⯑geolet; and that to this very Day, he pines away for a Flute.

Upon the Whole, having throughly conſidered how abſolutely neceſſary it is, That Two Inſtru⯑ments, which are to play together for Life, ſhould be exactly tuned, and go in perfect Conſort with each other, I would propoſe Matches between the Muſick of both Sexes, according to the following Table of Marriage.

• 1. Drum and Kettle-Drum.
• 2. Lute and Flute.
• 3. Harpſicord and Hautboy.
• 4. Violin and Flageolet.
• 5. Baſs-Viol and Kit.
• 6. Trumpet and Welſh Harp.
• 7. Hunting-Horn and Horn-Pipe.
• 8. Bagpipe and Caſtanets.
• 9. Paſſing-Bell and Virginal.

TOm Folio is a Broker in Learning, employed to get together good Editions, and ſtock the Libraries of great Men. There is not a Sale of Books begins till Tom Folio is ſeen at the Door. There is not an Auction where his Name is not heard, and that too in the very Nick of Time, in the Critical Moment, before the laſt deciſive Stroke of the Hammer. There is not a Subſcrip⯑tion goes forward, in which Tom is not privy to the firſt rough Draught of the Propoſals; nor a Catalogue printed, that doth not come to him wet from the Preſs. He is an univerſal Scholar, ſo far as the Title-Page of all Authors, knows the Manuſcripts in which they were diſcovered, the Editions through which they have paſſed, with the Praiſes or Cenſures which they have received from the ſeveral Members of the Learned World. He has a greater Eſteem for Aldus and Elzevir, than for Virgil and Horace. If you talk of Hero⯑dotus, he breaks out into a Panegyrick upon Harry Stephans. He thinks he gives you an Ac⯑count of an Author, when he tells you the Sub⯑ject he treats of, the Name of the Editor, and the Year in which it was printed. Or if you draw him into further Particulars, he cries up the Good⯑neſs of the Paper, extols the Diligence of the Corrector, and is tranſported with the Beauty of the Letter. This he looks upon to be ſound Learning and ſubſtantial Criticiſm. As for thoſe [218] who talk of the Fineneſs of Style, and the Juſt⯑neſs of Thought, or deſcribe the Brightneſs of any particular Paſſages; nay, though they write themſelves in the Genius and Spirit of the Author they admire, Tom looks upon them as Men of ſu⯑perficial Learning, and flaſhy Parts.

I had Yeſterday Morning a Viſit from this learned Idiot, (for that is the Light in which I conſider every Pedant) when I diſcovered in him ſome little Touches of the Coxcomb, which I had not before obſerv'd. Being very full of the Fi⯑gure which he makes in the Republick of Letters, and wonderfully ſatisfied with his great Stock of Knowledge, he gave me broad Intimations, that he did not believe in all Points as his Forefathers had done. He then communicated to me a Thought of a certain Author upon a Paſſage of Virgil's Account of the Dead, which I made the Subject of a late Paper. This Thought hath ta⯑ken very much among Men of Tom's Pitch and Underſtanding, though univerſally exploded by all that know how to conſtrue Virgil, or have any Reliſh of Antiquity. Not to trouble my Reader with it, I found upon the whole, that Tom did not believe a future State of Rewards and Puniſh⯑ments, becauſe Aeneas, at his leaving the Empire of the Dead, paſſed through the Gate of Ivory, and not through that of Horn. Knowing that Tom had not Senſe enough to give up an Opinion which he had once received, that he might avoid wrangling, I told him, That Virgil poſſibly had his Overſights as well as another Author. Ah [...] Mr. Bickerſtaff, ſays he, you would have anothe [...] Opinion of him, if you would read him in Dani [...] Heinſius's Edition. I have peruſed him my ſel [...] ſeveral Times in that Edition, continued he; an [...] after the ſtricteſt and moſt malicious Examina⯑tion, could find but Two Faults in him: One o [...] them is in the Aeneids, where there are Tw [...] Comma's inſtead of a Parentheſis; and anoth [...] [219] in the Third Georgick, where you may find a Semicolon turned upſide down. Perhaps, ſaid I, theſe were not Virgil's Thoughts, but thoſe of the Tranſcriber. I do not deſign it, ſays Tom, as a Reflection on Virgil: On the contrary, I know that all the Manuſcripts reclaim againſt ſuch a Punctuation. Oh! Mr. Bickerſtaff, ſays he, what would a Man give to ſee one Simile of Virgil writ in his own Hand? I asked him which was the Simile he meant; but was anſwered, Any Simile in Virgil. He then told me all the ſecret Hiſtory in the Commonwealth of Learning; of Modern Pieces that had the Names of ancient Authors an⯑nex'd to them; of all the Books that were now writing or printing in the ſeveral Parts of Europe; of many Amendments which are made, and not yet publiſhed; and a Thouſand other Particulars, which I would not have my Memory burthen'd with for a Vatican.

At length, being fully perſuaded that I tho⯑roughly admired him, and looked upon him as a Prodigy of Learning, he took his Leave. I know ſeveral of Tom's Claſs who are profeſſed Admirers of Taſſo without underſtanding a Word of Italian; and one in particular, that carries a Paſtor-Fido in his Pocket, in which I am ſure he is acquaint⯑ed with no other Beauty but the Clearneſs of the Character.

There is another Kind of Pedant, who, with all Tom Folio's Impertinencies, hath greater Super⯑ſtructures and Embelliſhments of Greek and Latin, and is ſtill more inſupportable than the other, in the ſame Degree as he is more learned. Of this Kind very often are Editors, Commentators, In⯑terpreters, Scholiaſts, and Criticks; and in ſhort, all Men of deep Learning without common Senſe. Theſe Perſons ſet a greater Value on themſelves for having found out the Meaning of a Paſſage in Greek, than upon the Author for having written it; nay, will allow the Paſſage it ſelf not to have [220] any Beauty in it, at the ſame Time that they would be conſidered as the greateſt Men of the Age for having interpreted it. They will look with Con⯑tempt upon the moſt beautiful Poems that have been compoſed by any of their Contemporaries; but will lock themſelves up in their Studies for a Twelvemonth together, to correct, publiſh, and expound, ſuch Trifles of Antiquity as a modern Author would be contemn'd for. Men of the ſtricteſt Morals, ſevereſt Lives, and the graveſt Profeſſions, will write Volumes upon an idle Son⯑net that is originally in Greek or Latin; give Edi⯑tions of the moſt immoral Authors, and ſpin out whole Pages upon the various Readings of a lewd Expreſſion. All that can be ſaid in Excuſe for them, is, That their Works ſufficiently ſhow they have no Taſt of their Authors; and that what they do in this Kind, is out of their great Learn⯑ing, and not out of any Levity or Laſciviouſneſs of Temper.

A Pedant of this Nature is wonderfully well deſcribed in Six Lines of Boileau, with which I ſhall conclude his Character.

THE Wits of this Iſland, for above Fifty Years paſt, inſtead of correcting the Vices of the Age, have done all they could to inflame them. Marriage has been one of the common Topicks of Ridicule that every Stage-Scribbler hath found his Account in; for whenever there is an Occaſion for a Clap, an impertinent Jeſt upon Matrimony is ſure to raiſe it. This hath been attended with very pernicious Conſequences. Many a Country 'Squire, upon his ſetting up for a Man of the Town, has gone Home in the Gaiety of his Heart and beat his Wife. A kind Husband hath been looked upon as a Clown, and a good Wife as a Domeſtick Animal, unfit for the Company or Converſation of the Beau Monde. In ſhort, Sepa⯑rate Beds, Silent Tables, and Solitary Homes, have been introduced by your Men of Wit and Pleaſure of the Age.

As I ſhall always make it my Buſineſs to ſtem the Torrents of Prejudice and Vice, I ſhall take particular Care to put an honeſt Father of a Fa⯑mily in Countenance, and endeavour to remove all the Evils out of that State of Life, which is either the moſt happy, or moſt miſerable, that a Man can be placed in. In order to this, let us, if you pleaſe, conſider the Wits and well-bred Per⯑ſons of former Times. I have ſhown in another Paper, That Pliny, who was a Man of the great⯑eſt [222] Genius, as well as of the Firſt Quality of his Age, did not think it below nim to be a kind Husband, and to treat his Wife as a Friend, Com⯑panion and Counſellor. I ſhall give the like In⯑ſtance of another, who in all Reſpects was a much greater Man than Pliny, and hath written a whole Book of Letters to his Wife. They are not ſo full of Turns as thoſe tranſlated out of the former Author, who writes very much like a Modern, but are full of that beautiful Simplicity which is altogether natural, and is the diſtinguiſhing Cha⯑racter of the beſt ancient Writers. The Author I am ſpeaking of, is Cicero; who, in the follow⯑ing Paſſages which I have taken out of his Let⯑ters, ſhows, that he did not think it inconſiſtent with the Politeneſs of his Manners, or the Great⯑neſs of his Wiſdom, to ſtand upon Record in his Domeſtick Character.

Theſe Letters were written at a Time when he was baniſh'd from his Country, by a Faction that then prevail'd at Rome.

[227] Methinks it is a Pleaſure to ſee this great Man in his Family, who makes ſo different a Figure in the Forum or Senate of Rome. Every one admires the Orator and the Conſul; but for my Part, I eſteem the Husband and the Father. His private Character, with all the little Weakneſſes of Hu⯑manity, is as amiable, as the Figure he makes in publick is awful and majeſtick. But at the ſame Time that I love to ſurpriſe ſo great an Author in his private Walks, and to ſurvey him in his moſt familiar Lights, I think it would be barbarous to form to our ſelves any Idea of mean Spiritedneſs from theſe natural Openings of his Heart, and disburthening of his Thoughts to a Wife. He has written ſeveral other Letters to the ſame Per⯑ſon, but none with ſo great Paſſion as theſe of which I have given the foregoing Extracts.

It would be ill Nature not to acquaint the Engliſh Reader, that his Wife was ſucceſsful in her Solicitations for this great Man, and ſaw her Husband return to the Honours of which he had been depriv'd, with all the Pomp and Ac⯑clamation that uſually attended the greateſt Tri⯑umph.

A Common Civility to an impertinent Fellow often draws upon one a great many unfore⯑ſeen Troubles; and if one doth not take particu⯑lar Care, will be interpreted by him as an Over⯑ture of Friendſhip and Intimacy. This I was very ſenſible of this Morning. About Two Hours be⯑fore [228] Day, I heard a great Rapping at my Door, which continued ſome Time, till my Maid could get her ſelf ready to go down and ſee what was the Occaſion of it. She then brought me up Word, That there was a Gentleman who ſeemed very much in Haſte, and ſaid he muſt needs ſpeak with me. By the Deſcription ſhe gave me of him, and by his Voice, which I could hear as I lay in my Bed, I fancied him to be my old Acquaintance the Upholſterer, whom I met the other Day in St. James's-Park. For which Reaſon, I bid her tell the Gentleman, whoever he was, That I was indiſpoſed, that I could ſee no Body, and that, if he had any Thing to ſay to me, I deſired he would leave it in Writing. My Maid, after having delivered her Meſſage, told me, That the Gentle⯑man ſaid he would ſtay at the next Coffee-houſe till I was ſtirring, and bid her be ſure to tell me, That the French were driven from the Scarp, and that Douay was inveſted. He gave her the Name of another Town, which I found ſhe had drop⯑ped by the Way.

As much as I love to be informed of the Suc⯑ceſs of my brave Countrymen, I do not care for hearing of a Victory before Day, and was there⯑fore very much out of Humour at this unſeaſona⯑ble Viſit. I had no ſooner recovered my Temper, and was falling aſleep, but I was immediately ſtartled by a Second Rap; and upon my Maid's opening the Door, heard the ſame Voice ask her, If her Maſter was yet up? and at the ſame Time bid her tell me, That he was come on Purpoſe to talk with me about a Piece of Home-News that every Body in Town will be full of Two Hours hence. I ordered my Maid as ſoon as ſhe came into the Room, without hearing her Meſſage, to tell the Gentleman, That whatever his News is, I would rather hear it Two Hours hence than now; and that I perſiſted in my Reſolution not to ſpeak with any Body that Morning. The [229] Wench delivered my Anſwer preſently, and ſhut the Door. It was impoſſible for me to compoſe my ſelf to Sleep after Two ſuch unexpected Alarms; for which Reaſon I put on my Clothes in a very peeviſh Humour. I took ſeveral Turns about my Chamber, reflecting with a great deal of Anger and Contempt on theſe Volunteers in Politicks, that undergo all the Pain, Watchful⯑neſs, and Diſquiet of a Firſt Miniſter, without turning it to the Advantage either of themſelves or their Country; and yet it is ſurpriſing to con⯑ſider how numerous this Species of Men is. There is nothing more frequent than to find a Taylor breaking his Reſt on the Affairs of Europe, and to ſee a Cluſter of Porters ſitting upon the Miniſtry. Our Streets ſwarm with Politicians, and there is ſcarce a Shop which is not held by a Stateſman. As I was muſing after this Manner, I heard the Upholſterer at the Door delivering a Letter to my Maid, and begging her, in a very great Hurry, to give it to her Maſter as ſoon as ever he was awake, which I opened, and found as follows:

[231] I ſhould have fretted my ſelf to Death at this Promiſe of a Second Viſit, if I had not found in his Letter an Intimation of the good News which I have ſince heard at large. I have however or⯑dered my Maid to tie up the Knocker of my Door in ſuch a Manner as ſhe would do if I was really indiſpoſed. By which Means I hope to eſcape breaking my Morning's Reſt.

Since I have given this Letter to the Publick, I ſhall communicate One or Two more, which I have lately received from others of my Correſpon⯑dents. The following is from a Coquet, who is very angry at my having diſpoſed of her in Mar⯑riage to a Baſs-Viol.

The Pertneſs which this Fair Lady hath ſhown in this Letter, was one Occaſion of my joining her to the Baſs-Viol, which is an Inſtrument that wants to be quickened by theſe little Vivacities; as the Sprightlineſs of the Kit ought to be check⯑ed and curbed by the Gravity of the Baſs-Viol.

My next Letter is from Tom Folio, who it ſeems takes it amiſs that I have publiſhed a Character of him ſo much to his Diſadvantage.

It hath always been my Way to baffle Reproach with Silence, tho' I cannot but obſerve the diſin⯑genuous Proceedings of this Gentleman, who is not content to aſperſe my Writings, but hath wounded, through my Sides, thoſe eminent and worthy Citizens, Mr. John Morphew, and Mr. Ber⯑nard Lintott.

I Was walking Two or Three Days ago in a very pleaſing Retirement, and amuſing my ſelf with the Reading of that ancient and beauti⯑ful [233] Allegory, called, The Table of Cebes. I was at laſt ſo tired with my Walk, that I ſat down to reſt my ſelf upon a Bench that ſtood in the Midſt of an agreeable Shade. The Muſick of the Birds, that filled all the Trees about me, lull'd me aſleep before I was aware of it; which was fol⯑lowed by a Dream, that I impute in ſome Mea⯑ſure to the foregoing Author, who had made an Impreſſion upon my Imagination, and put me into his own Way of Thinking.

I fancied my ſelf among the Alpes, and, as it is natural in a Dream, ſeemed every Moment to bound from one Summit to another, till at laſt, after having made this Airy Progreſs over the Tops of ſeveral Mountains, I arrived at the very Centre of thoſe broken Rocks and Precipices. I here, methought, faw a prodigious Circuit of Hills, that reached above the Clouds, and encom⯑paſſed a large Space of Ground, which I had a great Curioſity to look into. I thereupon conti⯑nued my former Way of travelling through a great Variety of Winter Scenes, till I had gained the Top of theſe white Mountains, which ſeem⯑ed another Alpes of Snow. I looked down from hence into a ſpacious Plain, which was ſurround⯑ed on all Sides by this Mound of Hills, and which preſented me with the moſt agreeable Proſpect I had ever ſeen. There was a greater Variety of Colours in the Embroidery of the Meadows, a more lively Green in the Leaves and Graſs, a brighter Chryſtal in the Streams, than what I ever met with in any other Region. The Light it ſelf had ſomething more ſhining and glorious in it than that of which the Day is made in other Places. I was wonderfully aſtoniſhed at the Diſ⯑covery of ſuch a Paradiſe amidſt the Wildneſs of thoſe cold, hoary Landskips which lay about it; but found at length, that this happy Region was inhabited by the Goddeſs of Liberty; whoſe Pre⯑ſence ſoftened the Rigours of the Climate, en⯑riched [234] the Barrenneſs of the Soil, and more than ſupplied the Abſence of the Sun. The Place was covered with a wonderful Profuſion of Flowers, that without being diſpoſed into regular Borders and Parterres, grew promiſcuouſly, and had a greater Beauty in their natural Luxuriancy and Diſorder, than they could have received from the Checks and Reſtraints of Art. There was a Ri⯑ver that aroſe out of the South Side of the Moun⯑tain, that by an infinite Number of Turns and Windings, ſeemed to viſit every Plant, and che⯑riſh the ſeveral Beauties of the Spring, with which the Fields abounded. After having run to and fro in a wonderful Variety of Meanders, as unwilling to leave ſo charming a Place, it at laſt throws it ſelf into the Hollow of a Moun⯑tain, from whence it paſſes under a long Range of Rocks, and at length riſes in that Part of the Alpes where the Inhabitants think it the Firſt Source of the Rhone. This River, after having made its Progreſs through thoſe free Nations, ſtagnates in a huge Lake at the leaving of them, and no ſooner enters into the Regions of Slavery, but runs through them with an incredible Rapi⯑dity, and takes its ſhorteſt Way to the Sea.

I deſcended into the happy Fields that lay be⯑neath me, and in the midſt of them, beheld the Goddeſs fitting upon a Throne. She had no⯑thing to encloſe her but the Bounds of her own Dominions, and nothing over her Head but the Heavens. Every Glance of her Eye caſt a Track of Light where it fell, that revived the Spring, and made all Things ſmile about her. My Heart grew chearful at the Sight of her, and as ſhe look⯑ed upon me, I found a certain Confidence grow⯑ing in me, and ſuch an inward Reſolution as I never felt before that Time.

On the Left Hand of the Goddeſs ſat the Ge⯑nius of a Commonwealth, with the Cap of Li⯑berty on her Head, and in her Hand a Wand [235] like that with which a Roman Citizen uſed to give his Slaves their Freedom. There was ſomething mean and vulgar, but at the ſame Time exceed⯑ing bold and daring, in her Air; her Eyes were full of Fire, but had in them ſuch Caſts of Fierce⯑neſs and Cruelty, as made her appear to me ra⯑ther dreadful than amiable. On her Shoulders ſhe wore a Mantle, on which there was wrought a great Confuſion of Figures. As it flew in the Wind, I could not diſcern the particular Deſign of them, but ſaw Wounds in the Bodies of ſome, and Agonies in the Faces of others; and over one Part of it could read in Letters of Blood, The Ides of March.

On the Right Hand of the Goddeſs was the Genius of Monarchy. She was cloathed in the whiteſt Ermin, and wore a Crown of the pureſt Gold upon her Head. In her Hand ſhe held a Scepter like that which is born by the Britiſh Monarchs. A Couple of tame Lions lay crouch⯑ing at her Feet: Her Countenance had in it a very great Majeſty without any Mixture of Ter⯑ror: Her Voice was like the Voice of an Angel, filled with ſo much Sweetneſs, and accompanied with ſuch an Air of Condeſcention, as tempered the Awfulneſs of her Appearance, and equally in⯑ſpired Love and Veneration into the Hearts of all that beheld her.

In the Train of the Goddeſs of Liberty were the ſeveral Arts and Sciences, who all of them flouriſhed underneath her Eye. One of them in particular made a greater Figure than any of the reſt, who held a Thunderbolt in her Hand, which had the Power of melting, piercing, or breaking every Thing that ſtood in its Way. The Name of this Goddeſs was Eloquence.

There were Two other dependent Goddeſſes, who made a very conſpicuous Figure in this bliſs⯑ful Region. The Firſt of them was ſeated upon an Hill, that had every Plant growing out of it, [236] which the Soil was in its own Nature capable of producing. The Other was ſeated in a little Iſland, that was covered with Groves of Spices, Olives, and Orange-Trees; and in a Word, with the Products of every Foreign Clime. The Name of the Firſt was Plenty, of the Second Commerce. The Firſt leaned her Right Arm upon a Plough, and under her Left held a huge Horn, out of which ſhe poured a whole Autumn of Fruits. The Other wore a roſtral Crown upon her Head, and kept her Eyes fixed upon a Com⯑paſs.

I was wonderfully pleaſed in ranging through this delightful Place, and the more ſo, becauſe it was not incumbered with Fences and Enclo⯑ſures; till at length, methoughts, I ſprung from the Ground, and pitched upon the Top of an Hill, that preſented ſeveral Objects to my Sight which I had not before taken Notice of. The Winds that paſs'd over this flowry Plain, and through the Tops of the Trees which were full of Bloſſoms, blew upon me in ſuch a continued Breeze of Sweets, that I was wonderfully charm⯑ed with my Situation. I here ſaw all the inner Declivities of that great Circuit of Mountains, whoſe Outſide was covered with Snow, over⯑grown with huge Forreſts of Fir-Trees, which indeed are very frequently found in other Parts of the Alpes. Theſe Trees were inhabited by Storks, that came thither in great Flights from very diſtant Quarters of the World. Methoughts, I was pleaſed in my Dream to ſee what became of theſe Birds, when, upon leaving the Places to which they make an annual Viſit, they riſe in great Flocks ſo high till they are out of Sight; and for that Reaſon have been thought by ſome modern Philoſophers to take a Flight to the Moon. But my Eyes were ſoon diverted from this Proſpect, when I obſerved Two great Gaps that led thro' this Circuit of Mountains, where [237] Guards and Watches were poſted Day and Night. Upon Examination I found, that there were Two formidable Enemies encamped before each of theſe Avenues, who kept the Place in a perpetual Alarm, and watched all Opportunities of inva⯑ding it.

Tyranny was at the Head of one of theſe Armies, dreſſed in an Eaſtern Habit, and graſping in her Hand an Iron Scepter. Behind her was Barbarity, with the Garb and Complexion of an Aethiopian; Ignorance with a Turbant upon her Head; and Perſecution holding up a bloody Flag, embroide⯑red with Flower-de-Luces. Theſe were followed by Oppreſſion, Poverty, Famine, Torture, and a dreadful Train of Appearances, that made me tremble to behold them. Among the Baggage of this Army, I could diſcover Racks, Wheels, Chains, and Gibbets, with all the Inſtruments Art could invent to make humane Nature miſerable.

Before the other Avenue I ſaw Licentiouſneſs, dreſſed in a Garment not unlike the Poliſh Caſ⯑ſock, and leading up an whole Army of Monſters, ſuch as Clamour, with a hoarſe Voice and a Hun⯑dred Tongues; Confuſion, with a miſhapen Body and a Thouſand Heads; Impudence, with a Fore⯑head of Braſs; and Rapine, with Hands of Iron. The Tumult, Noiſe, and Uproar in this Quarter, were ſo very great, that they diſturbed my Ima⯑gination more than is conſiſtent with Sleep, and by that Means awaked me.

IN my younger Years I uſed many Endeavours to get a Place at Court, and indeed conti⯑nued my Purſuits till I arrived at my Grand Cli⯑macterick: But at length altogether deſpairing of Succeſs, whether it were for Want of Capacity, Friends, or due Application, I at laſt reſolved to erect a new Office, and for my Encouragement, to place my ſelf in it. For this Reaſon, I took upon me the Title and Dignity of Cenſor of Great Britain, reſerving to my ſelf all ſuch Perquiſites, Profits, and Emoluments, as ſhould ariſe out of the Diſcharge of the ſaid Office. Theſe in Truth have not been inconſiderable; for, beſides thoſe Weekly Contributions which I receive from John Morphew, and thoſe annual Subſcriptions which I propoſe to my ſelf from the moſt ele⯑gant Part of this great Iſland, I daily live in a very comfortable Affluence of Wine, Stale Beer, Hungary Water, Beef, Books, and Marrow-Bones, which I receive from many well-diſpoſed Citi⯑zens; not to mention the Forfeitures which ac⯑crue to me from the ſeveral Offenders that ap⯑pear before me on Court-Days.

Having now enjoyed this Office for the Space of a Twelvemonth, I ſhall do what all good Of⯑ficers ought to do, take a Survey of my Beha⯑viour, and conſider carefully, whether I have diſcharged my Duty, and acted up to the Chara⯑cter with which I am inveſted. For my Dire⯑ction [239] in this Particular, I have made a narrow Search into the Nature of the old Roman Cenſors, whom I muſt always regard, not only as my Predeceſſors, but as my Patterns in this great Employment; and have ſeveral Times asked my own Heart with great Impartiality, Whether Cato will not bear a more venerable Figure among Poſterity than Bickerſtaff.

I find the Duty of the Roman Cenſor was Two⯑fold. The firſt Part of it conſiſted in making frequent Reviews of the People, in caſting up their Numbers, ranging them under their ſeve⯑ral Tribes, diſpoſing them into proper Claſſes, and ſubdividing them into their reſpective Cen⯑turies.

In Compliance with this Part of the Office, I have taken many curious Surveys of this great City. I have collected into particular Bodies the Dappers and the Smarts, the Natural and Affected Rakes, the Pretty Fellows and the very pretty Fel⯑lows. I have likewiſe drawn out in ſeveral di⯑ſtinct Parties your Pedants and Men of Fire, your Gameſters and Politicians. I have ſeparated Cits from Citizens, Free-Thinkers from Philoſophers, Wits from Snuff-Takers, and Duelliſts from Men of Honour. I have likewiſe made a Calculation of Eſquires, not only conſidering the ſeveral diſtinct Swarms of them that are ſettled in the different Parts of this Town, but alſo that more rugged Species that inhabit the Fields and Woods, and are often found in Pot-houſes, and upon Hay⯑cocks.

I ſhall paſs the Soft Sex over in Silence, having not yet reduced them into any tolerable Order; as likewiſe the ſofter Tribe of Lovers, which will coſt me a great deal of Time, before I ſhall be able to caſt them into their ſeveral Centuries and Sub-diviſions.

The Second Part of the Roman Cenſor's Office was to look into the Manners of the People, and [240] to check any growing Luxury, whether in Diet, Dreſs, or Building. This Duty likewiſe I have endeavoured to diſcharge, by thoſe wholeſome Precepts which I have given my Countrymen in regard to Beef and Mutton, and the ſevere Cenſures which I have paſſed upon Ragouts and Frigacies. There is not, as I am informed, a Pair of Red Heols to be ſeen within Ten Miles of London, which I may likewiſe aſcribe, with⯑out Vanity, to the becoming Zeal which I ex⯑preſſed in that Particular. I muſt own, my Suc⯑ceſs with the Petticoat is not ſo great: But as I have not yet done with it, I hope I ſhall in a little Time put an effectual Stop to that grow⯑ing Evil. As for the Article of Building, I in⯑tend hereafter to enlarge upon it, having lately obſerved ſeveral Ware-houſes, nay private Shops, that ſtand upon Corinthian Pillars, and whole Rows of Tin Pots ſhowing themſelves, in order to their Sale, through a Saſh-Window.

I have likewiſe followed the Example of the Roman Cenſors, in puniſhing Offences accord⯑ing to the Quality of the Offender. It was uſual for them to expel a Senator who had been guilty of great Immoralities out of the Senate-Houſe, by omitting his Name when they called over the Liſt of his Brethren. In the ſame Manner, to remove effectually ſeveral worthleſs Men who ſtand poſſeſſed of great Honours, I have made frequent Draughts of dead Men out of the vi⯑cious Part of the Nobility, and given them up to the new Society of Upholders, with the neceſ⯑ſary Orders for their Interrment. As the Roman Cenſors uſed to puniſh the Knights or Gentlemen of Rome, by taking away their Horſes from them, I have ſeiſed the Canes of many Crimi⯑nals of Figure, whom I had juſt Reaſon to animadvert upon. As for the Offenders among the Common People of Rome, they were gene⯑rally chaſtiſed, by being thrown out of a higher [241] Tribe, and placed in one which was not ſo ho⯑nourable. My Reader cannot but think I have had an Eye to this Puniſhment, when I have de⯑graded one Species of Men into Bombs, Squibs, and Crackers, and another into Drums, Baſs-Viols, and Bagpipes; not to mention whole Packs of Delinquents whom I have ſhut up in Kennels, and the new Hoſpital which I am at preſent erecting, for the Reception of thoſe my Countrymen who give me but little Hopes of their Amendment, on the Borders of Moor-Fields. I ſhall only obſerve upon this laſt Particular. That ſince ſome late Surveys I have taken of this Iſland, I ſhall think it neceſſary to enlarge the Plan of the Buildings which I deſign in this Quarter.

When my great Predeceſſor Cato the Elder ſtood for the Cenſorſhip of Rome, there were ſe⯑veral other Competitors who offered themſelves; and to get an Intereſt among the People, gave them great Promiſes of the mild and gentle Treat⯑ment which they would uſe towards them in that Office. Cato on the contrary told them, he preſented himſelf as a Candidate, becauſe he knew the Age was ſunk in Immorality and Cor⯑ruption; and that if they would give him their Votes, he would promiſe them to make uſe of ſuch a Strictneſs and Severity of Diſcipline as ſhould recover them out of it. The Roman Hiſtorians, upon this Occaſion, very much cele⯑brate the Publick-Spiritedneſs of that People, who choſe Cato for their Cenſor, notwithſtand⯑ing his Method of recommending himſelf. I may in ſome Meaſure extol my own Country⯑men upon the ſame Account, who, without any Rrſpect to Party, or any Application from my ſelf, have made ſuch generous Subſcriptions for the Cenſor of Great Britain, as will give e Mag⯑nificence to my old Age, and which I eſteem more than I would any Poſt in Europe of an Hundred [242] Times the Value. I ſhall only add, That upon looking into my Catalogue of Subſcribers, which I intend to print Alphabetically in the Front of my Lucubrations, I find the Names of the great⯑eſt Beauties and Wits in the whole Iſland of Great Britain, which I only mention for the Be⯑nefit of any of them who have not yet ſubſcribed, it being my Deſign to cloſe the Subſcription in a very ſhort Time.

I Yeſterday came hither about Two Hours be⯑fore the Company generally make their Ap⯑pearance, with a Deſign to read over all the News-Papers; but upon my ſitting down, I was accoſted by Ned Softly, who ſaw me from a Corner in the other End of the Room, where I found he had been writing ſomething. Mr. Bicker⯑ſtaff, ſays he, I obſerve by a late Paper of yours, that you and I are juſt of a Humour; for you mu [...]t know, of all Impertinencies, there is no⯑thing which I ſo much hate as News. I never read a Gazette in my Life; and never trouble [243] my Head about our Armies, whether they win or loſe, or in what Part of the World they he encamped. Without giving me Time to reply, he drew a Paper of Verſes out of his Pocket, telling me, That he had ſomething which would entertain me more agreeably, and that he would deſire my Judgment upon every Line, for that we had Time enough before us till the Company came in.

Ned Softly is a very pretty Poet, and a great Admirer of eaſy Lines. Waller is his Favourite: And as that admirable Writer has the beſt and worſt Verſes of any among our great Engliſh Poets, Ned Softly has got all the bad Ones with⯑out Book, which he repeats upon Occaſion, to ſhow his Reading, and garniſh his Converſation. Ned is indeed a true Engliſh Reader, incapable of reliſhing the great and maſterly Strokes of this Art; but wonderfully pleaſed with the little Gothick Ornaments of Epigrammatical Conceits, Turns, Points, and Quibbles, which are ſo fre⯑quent in the moſt admired of our Engliſh Poets, and practiſed by thoſe who want Genius and Strength to repreſent, after the Manner of the Ancients, Simplicity in its natural Beauty and Perfection.

Finding my ſelf unavoidably engaged in ſuch a Converſation, I was reſolved to turn my Pain into a Pleaſure, and to divert my ſelf as well as I could with ſo very odd a Fellow. You muſt underſtand, ſays Ned, that the Sonnet I am go ng to read to you was written upon a Lady, wi [...] ſhewed me ſome Verſes of her own making, and is perhaps the beſt Poet of our Age. But you ſhall hear it. Upon which he begun to read as fol⯑lows:

Why, ſays I, this is a little Noſegay of Con⯑ceits, a very Lump of Salt: Every Verſe hath ſomething in it that piques; and then the Dart in the laſt Line is certainly as pretty a Sting in the Tail of an Epigram (for ſo I think your Criticks call it) as ever entered into the Thought of a Poet. Dear Mr. Bickerſtaff, ſays he, ſhaking me by the Hand, every Body knows you to be a Judge of theſe Things; and to tell you truly, I read over Roſcommon's Tranſlation of Horace's Art of Poetry Three ſeveral Times, before I ſat down to write the Sonnet which I have ſhown you. But you ſhall hear it again, and pray ob⯑ſerve every Line of it, for not one of them ſhall paſs without your Approbation.

That is, ſays he, when have your Garland on; when you are Writing Verſes. To which I replied, I know your Meaning: A Metaphor! The ſame, ſaid he, and went on.

Pray obſerve the Gliding of that Verſe; there is ſcarce a Conſonant in it: I took Care to make it run upon Liquids. Give me your Opinion of [245] it. Truly, ſaid I, I think it as good as the former. I am very glad to hear you ſay ſo, ſays he; but mind the next.

That is, ſays he, you ſeem a Siſter of the Muſes; for if you look into ancient Authors, you will find it was their Opinion, that there were Nine of them. I remember it very well, ſaid I; but pray proceed.

Phoebus, ſays he, was the God of Poetry. Theſe little Inſtances, Mr. Bickerſtaff, ſhow a Gentleman's Reading. Then to take off from the Air of Learning, which Phoebus and the Muſes have given to this firſt Stanza, you may obſerve, how it falls all of a ſudden into the Familiar; in Petticoats!

Let us now, ſays I, enter upon the Second Stanza. I find the Firſt Line is ſtill a Continua⯑tion of the Metaphor.

It is very right, ſays he; but pray obſerve the Turn of Words in thoſe Two Lines. I was a whole Hour in adjuſting of them, and have ſtill a Doubt upon me, Whether in the Second Line it ſhould be, Your Song you ſing; or, You ſing your Song? You ſhall hear them both:

OR,

[246] Truly, ſaid I, the Turn is ſo natural either Way, that you have made me almoſt giddy with it. Dear Sir, ſaid he, graſping me by the Hand, you have a great deal of Patience; but pray what do you think of the next Verſe?

Think! ſays I; I think you have made Cupid look like a little Gooſe. That was my Meaning, ſays he; I think the Ridicule is well enough hit off But we now come to the laſt, which ſums up the whole Matter:

Pray how do you like that Ah! Doth it not make a pretty Figure in that Place? Ah! It looks as if I felt the Dart, and cried out at being pricked with it.

My Friend Dick Eaſy, continued he, aſſured me, he would rather have written that Ah! than to have been the Author of the Aeneid. He in⯑deed objected, that I made Mira's Pen like a Quill in one of the Lines, and like a Dart in the other. But as to that—Oh! as to that, ſays I, it is but ſuppoſing Cupid to be like a Porcupine, and his Quills and Darts will be the ſame Thing. He was going to embrace me for the Hint; but half a Dozen Criticks coming into the Room, whoſe Faces he did not like, he conveyed the Sonnet into his Pocket, and whiſpered me in the Ear, he would ſhow it me again as ſoon as his Man had written it over fair.

I HAVE lately been looking over the many Pacquets of Letters which I have received from all Quarters of Great Britain, as well as from Foreign Countries, ſince my entring upon the Office of Cenſor, and indeed am very much ſur⯑prized to ſee ſo great a Number of them, and pleaſed to think that I have ſo far encreaſed the Revenue of the Poſt-Office. As this Collection will grow daily, I have digeſted it into ſeveral Bundles, and made proper Endorſements on each particular Letter, it being my Deſign, when I lay down the Work that I am now engaged in, to erect a Paper Office, and give it to the Publick.

I could not but make ſeveral Obſervations upon reading over the Letters of my Correſpondents: As firſt of all, on the different Taſts that reign in the different Parts of this City. I find, by the Approbations which are given me, That I am ſeldom famous on the ſame Days on both Sides of Temple-Bar; and that when I am in the great⯑eſt Repute within the Liberties, I dwindle at the Court End of the Town. Sometimes I ſink in both theſe Places at the ſame Time; but for my Comfort, my Name hath then been up in the Diſtricts of Wapping and Rotherhithe. Some of [248] my Correſpondents deſire me to be always ſe⯑rious, and others to be always merry. Some of them entreat me to go to Bed and fall into a Dream, and like me better when I am aſleep than when I am awake: Others adviſe me to fit all Night upon the Stars, and be more fre⯑quent in my Aſtrological Obſervations; for that a Viſion is not properly a Lucubration. Some of my Readers thank me for filling my Paper with the Flowers of Antiquity, others deſire News from Flanders. Some approve my Criticiſms on the Dead, and others my Cenſures on the Living. For this Reaſon, I once reſolved in the new Edi⯑tion of my Works, to range my ſeveral Pa⯑pers under diſtinct Heads, according as their principal Deſign was to benefit and inſtruct the different Capacities of my Readers, and to follow the Example of ſome very great Au⯑thors, by writing at the Head of each Diſcourſe, Ad Aulam, Ad Academiam, Ad Populum, Ad Clerum.

There is no Particular in which my Correſpon⯑dents of all Ages, Conditions, Sexes, and Com⯑plexions, univerſally agree, except only in their Thirſt after Scandal. It is impoſſible to conceive how many have recommended their Neighbours to me upon this Account, or how unmercifully I have been abuſed by ſeveral unknown Hands, for not publiſhing the ſecret Hiſtories of Cuckol⯑dom that I have received from almoſt every Street in Town.

It would indeed be very dangerous for me to read over the many Praiſes and Eulogiums which come Poſt to me from all the Corners of the Nation, were they not mixed with many Checks, Reprimands, Scurrilities, and Re⯑proaches, which ſeveral of my good-natured Countrymen cannot forbear ſending me, though it often coſts them Two-pence or a Groat before they can convey them to my Hands: So that [249] ſometimes when I am put into the beſt Humour in the World, after having read a Panegyrick upon my Performance, and looked upon my ſelf as a Benefactor to the Britiſh Nation, the next Letter perhaps I open, begins with, You old Do⯑ting Scoundrel—Are not you a ſad Dog—Sirrah, you deſerve to have your Noſe ſlit. And the like ingenious Conceits. Theſe little Mortifications are neceſſary to ſurpaſs that Pride and Vanity which naturally ariſe in the Mind of a received Author, and enable me to bear the Reputation which my courteous Readers beſtow upon me, without becoming a Coxcomb by it. It was for the ſame Reaſon, that when a Roman Gene⯑ral entered the City in the Pomp of a Triumph, the Commonwealth allowed of ſeveral little Drawbacks to his Reputation, by conniving at ſuch of the Rabble as repeated Libels and Lam⯑poons upon him within his Hearing, and by that Means engaged his Thoughts upon his Weakneſs and Imperfections, as well as on the Merits that advanced him to ſo great Honours. The Con⯑queror however was not the leſs eſteemed for being a Man in ſome Particulars, becauſe he ap⯑peared as a God in others.

There is another Circumſtance in which my Countrymen have dealt very perverſely with me; and that is, in Searching not only into my own Life, but alſo into the Lives of my Anceſtors. If there has been a Blot in my Family for theſe Ten Generations, it hath been diſcovered by ſome or other of my Correſpondents. In ſhort, I find the ancient Family of the Bickerſtaffs has ſuffered very much through the Malice and Prejudice of my Enemies. Some of them twit me in the Teeth with the Conduct of my Aunt Margery: Nay, there are ſome who have been ſo diſinge⯑nuous, as to throw Maud the Milk-Maid into my Diſh, notwithſtanding I my ſelf was the firſt who diſcovered that Alliance. I reap however [250] many Benefits from the Malice of theſe my Ene⯑mies, as they let me ſee my own Faults, and give me a View of my ſelf in the worſt Light; as they hinder me from being blown up by Flattery and Self-Conceit: as they make me keep a watchful Eye over my own Actions, and at the ſame Time make me cautious how I talk of others, and par⯑ticularly of my Friends and Relations, or value my ſelf upon the Antiquity of my Family.

But the moſt formidable Part of my Correſpon⯑dents are thoſe whoſe Letters are filled with Threats and Menaces. I have been treated ſo often after this Manner, that not thinking it ſuf⯑ficient to fence well, in which I am now arrived at the utmoſt Perfection, and carry Piſtols about me, which I have always tuck'd within my Gir⯑dle; I ſeveral Months ſince made my Will, ſet⯑tled my Eſtate, and took Leave of my Friends, looking upon my ſelf as no better than a dead Man. Nay, I went ſo far as to write a long Let⯑ter to the moſt intimate Acquaintance I have in the World, under the Character of a departed Perſon, giving him an Account of what brought me to that untimely End, and of the Fortitude with which I met it. This Letter being too long for the preſent Paper, I intend to print it by it ſelf very ſuddenly; and at the ſame Time I muſt confeſs, I took my Hint of it from the Be⯑haviour of an old Soldier in the Civil Wars, who was Corporal of a Company in a Regiment of Foot, about the ſame Time that I my ſelf was a Cadet in the King's Army.

This Gentleman was taken by the Enemy; and the Two Parties were upon ſuch Terms at that Time, that we did not treat each other as Priſoners of War, but as Traitors and Rebels. The poor Corporal being condemned to die, wrote a Letter to his Wife when under Sentence of Exe⯑cution. He writ on the Thurſday, and was to be executed on the Friday: But conſidering that the [251] Letter would not come to his Wife's Hands till Saturday, the Day after Execution, and being at that Time more ſcrupulous than ordinary in ſpeaking exact Truth, he formed his Letter ra⯑ther according to the Poſture of his Affairs when ſhe ſhould read it, than as they ſtood when he ſent it: Though it muſt be confeſſed, there is a certain Perplexity in the Style of it, which the Reader will eaſily pardon, conſidering his Cir⯑cumſtances.

It ſo happened, that this honeſt Fellow was relieved by a Party of his Friends, and had the Satisfaction to ſee all the Rebels hanged who had been his Enemies. I muſt not omit a Circum⯑ſtance which expoſed him to Raillery his whole Life after. Before the Arrival of the next Poſt, that would have ſet all Things clear, his Wife was married to a Second Husband, who lived in the peaceable Poſſeſſion of her; and the Cor⯑poral, who was a Man of plain Underſtanding, did not care to ſtir in the Matter, as knowing that ſhe had the News of his Death under his own Hand, which ſhe might have produced upon Occaſion.

IT has always been my Endeavour to diſtinguiſh between Realities and Appearances, and to ſe⯑parate true Merit from the Pretence to it. As it ſhall ever be my Study to make Diſcoveries of this Nature in Humane Life, and to ſettle the proper Diſtinctions between the Virtues and Per⯑fections of Mankind, and thoſe falſe Colours and Reſemblances of them that ſhine alike in the Eyes of the Vulgar; ſo I ſhall be more particu⯑larly careful to ſearch into the various Merits and Pretences of the learned World. This is the more neceſſary, becauſe there ſeems to be a ge⯑neral Combination among the Pedants to extol one another's Labours, and cry up one another's Parts; while Men of Senſe, either through that Modeſty which is natural to them, or the Scorn they have for ſuch trifling Commendations, en⯑joy their Stock of Knowledge like a hidden Trea⯑ſure, with Satisfaction and Silence. Pedantry in⯑deed in Learning is like Hypocriſy in Religion, a Form of Knowledge without the Power of it, that attracts the Eyes of the Common People, breaks out in Noiſe and Show, and finds its Re⯑ward not from any inward Pleaſure that attends it, but from the Praiſes and Approbations which it receives from Men.

Of this ſhallow Species there is not a more im⯑portunate, empty, and conceited Animal, than that which is generally known by the Name of a Critick. This, in the common Acceptation of the Word, is one that, without entering into [253] the Senſe and Soul of an Author, has a few ge⯑neral Rules, which, like mechanical Inſtru⯑ments, he applies to the Works of every Writer, and as they quadrate with them, pronounces the Author perfect or defective. He is Maſter of a certain Set of Words, as Unity, Style, Fire, Flegm, Eaſy, Natural, Turn, Sentiment, and the like; which he varies, compounds, divides, and throws together, in every Part of his Diſcourſe, without any Thought or Meaning. The Marks you may know him by are, an elevated Eye, and dogmatical Brow, a poſitive Voice, and a Contempt for every Thing that comes out, whe⯑ther he has read it or not. He dwells altogether in Generals. He praiſes or diſpraiſes in the Lump. He ſhakes his Head very frequently at the Pedantry of Univerſities, and burſts into Laughter when you mention an Author that is not known at Will's. He hath formed his Judg⯑ment upon Homer, Horace, and Virgil, not from their own Works, but from thoſe of Rapin and Boſſu. He knows his own Strength ſo well, that he never dares praiſe any Thing in which he has not a French Author for his Voucher.

With theſe extraordinary Talents and Accom⯑pliſhments, Sir Timothy Tittle puts Men in Vogue, or condemns them to Obſcurity, and ſits as Judge of Life and Death upon every Author that ap⯑pears in Publick. It is impoſſible to repreſent the Pangs, Agonies, and Convulſions, which Sir Ti⯑mothy expreſſes in every Feature of his Face, and Muſcle of his Body, upon the reading of a bad Poet.

About a Week ago I was engaged at a Friend's of mine in an agreeable Converſation with his Wife and Daughters, when in the Height of our Mirth, Sir Timothy, who makes Love to my Friend's eldeſt Daughter, came in amongſt us puffing and blowing as if he had been very much out of Breath. He immediately called for a [254] Chair, and deſired Leave to ſit down, without any further Ceremony. I ask'd him, Where he had been? Whether he was out of Order? He only replied, That he was quite ſpent, and fell a curſing in Soliloquy. I could hear him cry, A Wicked Rogue—An execrable Wretch—Wat there ever ſuch a Monſter—The young Ladies upon this began to be affrighted, and asked, Whether any one had hurt him? He anſwered nothing, but ſtill talked to himſelf. To lay the firſt Scene, ſays he, in St. James's Park, and the laſt in Northamptonſhire! Is that all, ſays I? Then I ſuppoſe you have been at the Rehearſal of a Play this Morning. Been! ſays he; I have been at Northampton, in the Park, in a Lady's Bed Chamber, in a Dining-Room, every where; the Rogue has led me ſuch a Dance—Tho' I could ſcarce forbear laughing at his Diſcourſe, I told him I was glad it was no worſe, and that he was only Metaphorically weary. In ſhort, Sir, ſays he, the Author has not obſerved a ſingle Unity in his whole Play; the Scene ſhifts in every Dialogue; the Villain has hurried me up and down at ſuch a Rate, that I am tired off my Legs. I could not but obſerve with ſome Plea⯑ſure, that the young Lady whom he made Love to, conceived a very juſt Averſion towards him, upon ſeeing him ſo very paſſionate in Trifles. And as ſhe had that natural Senſe which makes her a better Judge than a Thouſand Criticks, ſhe began to rally him upon this fooliſh Humour. For my Part, ſays ſhe, I never knew a Play take that was written up to your Rules, as you call them. How Madam! ſays he, Is that your Opi⯑nion? I am ſure you have a better Taſt. It is a pretty Kind of Magick, ſays ſhe, the Poets have, to tranſport an Audience from Place to Place without the Help of a Coach and Horſes. I could travel round the World at ſuch a Rate. 'Tis ſuch an Entertainment as an Enchantreſs finds [255] when ſhe fancies her ſelf in a Wood, or upon a Mountain, at a Feaſt, or a Solemnity; though at the ſame Time ſhe has never ſtirred out of her Cottage. Your Simile, Madam, ſays Sir Timo⯑thy, is by no Means juſt. Pray, ſays ſhe, let my Similies paſs without a Criticiſm. I muſt confeſs, continued ſhe, (for I found ſhe was re⯑ſolved to exaſperate him) I laughed very heartily at the laſt new Comedy which you found ſo much Fault with. But Madam, ſays he, you ought not to have laughed; and I defy any one to ſhow me a ſingle Rule that you could laugh by. Ought not to laugh! ſays ſhe: Pray who ſhould hinder me. Madam, ſays he, there are ſuch People in the World as Rapin, Dacier, and ſeveral others, that ought to have ſpoiled your Mirth. I have heard, ſays the young Lady, That your great Criticks are always very bad Poets: I fancy there is as much Difference be⯑tween the Works of one and the other, as there is between the Carriage of a Dancing Maſter and a Gentleman. I muſt confeſs, continued ſhe, I would not be troubled with ſo fine a Judg⯑ment as yours is; for I find you feel more Vexa⯑tion in a bad Comedy, than I do in a deep Tra⯑gedy. Madam, ſays Sir Timothy, That is not my Fault, they ſhould learn the Art of Writing. For my Part, ſays the young Lady, I ſhould think the greateſt Art in your Writers of Come⯑dies is to pleaſe. To pleaſe! ſays Sir Timothy, and immediately fell a laughing. Truly, ſays ſhe, that is my Opinion. Upon this, he com⯑poſed his Countenance, looked upon his Watch, and took his Leave.

I hear that Sir Timothy has not been at my Friend's Houſe ſince this notable Conference, to the great Satisfaction of the young Lady, who by this Means has got rid of a very impertinent Fop.

[250] I muſt confeſs, I could not but obſerve, with a great deal of Surprize, how this Gentleman, by his ill Nature, Folly, and Affectation, hath made himſelf capable of ſuffering ſo many ima⯑ginary Pains, and looking with ſuch a ſenſe⯑leſs Severity upon the common Diverſions of Life.

THE World is ſo overgrown with Singula⯑rities in Behaviour, and Method of Living, that I have no ſooner laid before Mankind the Abſurdity of one Species of Men, but there ſtarts up to my View ſome new Sect of Impertinents that had before eſcaped Notice. This Afternoon, as I was talking with fine Mrs. Sprightly's Por⯑ter, and deſiring Admittance upon an extraordi⯑nary Occaſion, it was my Fate to be ſpy'd by Tom Modely riding by in his Chariot. He did me the Honour to ſtop, and asked, What I did there of a Monday? I anſwered, That I had Buſineſs of Importance, which I wanted to communicate to the Lady of the Houſe. Tom is one of thoſe Fools who look upon Knowledge of the Faſhion to be the only Liberal Science; and was ſo rough as to tell me, That a well-bred Man would as ſoon call upon a Lady (who keeps a Day) at Mid⯑night, as on any Day but that on which ſhe pro⯑feſſes being at Home. There are Rules and De⯑corums which are never to be tranſgreſſed by [257] thoſe who underſtand the World; and he who offends in that Kind, ought not to take it ill if he is turned away, even when he ſees the Perſon look out at her Window whom he enquires for. Nay, ſaid he, my Lady Dimple is ſo poſitive in this Rule, that ſhe takes it for a Piece of good Breeding and Diſtinction to deny her ſelf with her own Mouth. Mrs. Comma, the great Scho⯑lar, inſiſts upon it; and I my ſelf have heard her aſſert, That a Lord's Porter, or a Lady's Woman, cannot be ſaid to lie in that Caſe, becauſe they act by Inſtruction; and their Words are no more their own, than thoſe of a Puppet.

He was going on with this Ribaldry, when on a ſudden he looked on his Watch, and ſaid, ho had Twenty Viſits to make, and drove away without further Ceremony. I was then at Lei⯑ſure to reflect upon the Taſtleſs Manner of Life, which a Set of idle Fellows lead in this Town, and ſpend Youth it ſelf with leſs Spirit, than other Men do their old Age. Theſe Expletives in Humane Society, tho' they are in themſelves wholly inſignificant, become of ſome Conſidera⯑tion when they are mixed with others. I am very much at a Loſs how to define, or under what Character, Diſtinction, or Denomination, to place them, except you give me Leave to call them the Order of the Inſipids. This Order is in its Extent like that of the Jeſuits, and you ſee of them in every Way of Life, and in every Profeſſion. Tom Modely has long appeared to me at the Head of this Species. By being habi⯑tually in the beſt Company, he knows perfectly well when a Coat is well cut, or a Periwig well mounted. As ſoon as you enter the Place where he is, he tells the next Man to him who is your Taylor, and judges of you more from the Choice of your Periwig-maker than of your Friend. His Buſineſs in this World was to be well dreſſed; and the greateſt Circumſtance that is to be recor⯑ded [258] in his Annals is, That he wears Twenty Shirts a Week. Thus, without ever ſpeaking Reaſon among the Men, or Paſſion among the Women, he is every where well received; and without any one Man's Eſteem, he has every Man's In⯑dulgence.

This Order has produced great Numbers of tolerable Copiers in Painting, good Rhimers in Poetry, and harmleſs Projectors in Politicks. You may ſee them at firſt Sight grow acquainted by Sympathy, inſomuch that one who had not ſtu⯑died Nature, and did not know the true Cauſe of their ſudden Familiarities, would think that they had ſome ſecret Intimation of each other, like the Free Maſons. The other Day at Will's, I heard Modely, and a Critick of the ſame Or⯑der, ſhow their equal Talents with great Delight. The Learned Inſipid was commending Racine's Turns; the Genteel Inſipid, Devillier's Curls.

Theſe Creatures, when they are not forced into any particular Employment, for want of Idea's in their own Imaginations, are the conſtant Plague of all they meet with by Enquiries for News and Scandal, which makes them the He⯑roes of Viſiting Days, where they help the De⯑ſign of the Meeting, which is to paſs away that odious Thing called Time, in Diſcourſes too trivial to raiſe any Reflections which may put well-bred Perſons to the Trouble of Think⯑ing.

I was looking out of my Parlour-Window this Morning, and receiving the Honours which Mar⯑gery, the Milk-maid to our Lane, was doing me, by dancing before my Door with the Plate of half her Cuſtomers on her Head, when Mr. Clay⯑ton, the Author of Arſinoe, made me a Viſit, and deſired me to inſert the following Advertiſement in my enſuing Paper.

When I granted his Requeſt, I made one to him, which was, That the Performers ſhould put their Inſtruments in Tune before the Audience came in; for that I thought the Reſentment of the Eaſtern Prince, who, according to the old Story, took Tuning for Playing, to be very juſt and natural. He was ſo civil, as not only to pro⯑miſe that Favour, but alſo to aſſure me, that he would order the Heels of the Performers to be muffled in Cotton, that the Artiſts in ſo polite an Age as ours, may not intermix with their Harmony a Cuſtom which ſo nearly reſembles the Stamping Dances of the Weſt-Indians or Hot⯑tentots.

HAving received Notice, That the famou [...] Actor Mr. Betterton was to be interred thi [...] Evening in the Cloyſters near Weſtminſter-Abbey [...] I was reſolved to walk thither, and ſee the la [...] Office done to a Man whom I had always ver [...] much admired, and from whoſe Action I had r [...] ⯑ceived more ſtrong Impreſſions of what is gre [...] and noble in Humane Nature, than from the A [...] ⯑guments of the moſt ſolid Philoſophers, or the D [...] ⯑ſcriptions of the moſt charming Poets I had ev [...] [261] read. As the rude and untaught Multitude are no Way wrought upon more effectually than by ſeeing publick Puniſhments and Executions; ſo Men of Letters and Education feel their Huma⯑nity moſt forcibly exerciſed, when they attend the Obſequies of Men who had arrived at any Perfection in Liberal Accompliſhments. Thea⯑trical Action is to be eſteemed as ſuch, except it be objected, that we cannot call that an Art which cannot be attained by Art. Voice, Sta⯑ture, Motion, and other Gifts, muſt be very bountifully beſtowed by Nature, or Labour and Induſtry will but puſh the unhappy Endeavourer, in that Way, the further off his Wiſhes.

Such an Actor as Mr. Betterton ought to be re⯑corded with the ſame Reſpect as Roſcius among the Romans. The greateſt Orator has thought fit to quote his Judgment, and celebrate his Life. Roſcius was the Example to all that would form themſelves into proper and winning Behaviour. His Action was ſo well adapted to the Sentiments he expreſſed, that the Youth of Rome thought they wanted only to be virtuous to be as graceful in their Appearance as Roſcius. The Imagination took a lovely Impreſſion of what was great and good; and they who never thought of ſetting up for the Arts of Imitation, became themſelves imitable Characters.

There is no Humane Inventions ſo aptly cal⯑culated for the forming a Free-born People as that of a Theatre. Tully reports, That the ce⯑lebrated Player of whom I am ſpeaking uſed fre⯑quently to ſay, The Perfection of an Actor is only to become what he is doing. Young Men, who are too unattentive to receive Lectures, are irre⯑ſiſtibly taken with Performances. Hence it is, that I extremely lament the little Reliſh the Gentry of this Nation have at preſent for the juſt and noble Repreſentations in ſome of our Tragedies. The Opera's, which are of late in⯑troduced, [262] can leave no Trace behind them that can be of Service beyond the preſent Moment. To ſing and to dance, are Accompliſhments very few have any Thoughts of practiſing; but to ſpeak juſtly, and move gracefully, is what every Man thinks he does perform, or wiſhes he did.

I have hardly a Notion, that any Performer of Antiquity could ſurpaſs the Action of Mr. Better⯑ton in any of the Occaſions in which he has appear'd on our Stage. The wonderful Agony which he ap⯑peared in, when he examined the Circumſtance of the Handkerchief in Othello; the Mixture of Love that intruded upon his Mind upon the in⯑nocent Anſwers Deſdemona makes, betrayed in his Geſture ſuch a Variety and Viciſſitude of Paſ⯑ſions, as would admoniſh a Man to be afraid of his own Heart, and perfectly convince him, that it is to ſtab it, to admit that worſt of Daggers, Jea⯑louſy. Whoever reads in his Cloſet this admira⯑ble Scene, will find that he cannot, except he has as warm an Imagination as Shakeſpear him⯑ſelf, find any but dry, incoherent, and broken Sentences: But a Reader that has ſeen Bettterton act it, obſerves there could not be a Word added; that longer Speech had been unnatu⯑ral, nay impoſſible, in Othello's Circumſtances. The charming Paſſage in the ſame Tragedy, where he tells the Manner of winning the Af⯑fection of his Miſtreſs, was urged with ſo moving and graceful an Energy, that while I walked in the Cloyſters, I thought of him with the ſame Concern as if I waited for the Remains of a Perſon who had in real Life done all that I had ſeen him repreſent. The Gloom of the Place and faint Lights before the Ceremony aypeared contributed to the melancholy Diſpoſition I wa [...] in; and I began to be extremely afflicted, tha [...] Brutus and Caſſius had any Difference; that Hot⯑ſpur's Gallantry was ſo unfortunate; and that th [...] Mirth and good Humour of Falſtaff, could no [...] [263] exempt him from the Grave. Nay, this Occa⯑ſion in me, who look upon the Diſtinctions a⯑mongſt Men to be meerly Scenical, raiſed Re⯑flections upon the Emptineſs of all Humane Per⯑fection and Greatneſs in general; and I could not but regret, that the Sacred Heads which lie bu⯑ried in the Neighbourhood of this little Portion of Earth in which my poor old Friend is de⯑poſited, are returned to Duſt as well as he, and that there is no Difference in the Grave between the Imaginary and the Real Monarch. This made me ſay of Humane Life it ſelf with Mack⯑beth:

The Mention I have here made of Mr. Better⯑ton, for whom I had, as long as I have known any Thing, a very great Eſteem and Gratitude for the Pleaſure he gave me, can do him no Good; but it may poſſibly be of Service to the unhappy Woman he has left behind him, to have it known, that this great Tragedian was never in a Scene half ſo moving, as the Circumſtances of his Af⯑fairs created at his Departure. His Wife, after the Cohabitation of Forty Years in the ſtricteſt Amity, has long pined away with a Senſe of his Decay, as well in his Perſon as his little Fortune; and in Proportion to that, ſhe has herſelf de⯑cayed both in her Health and Reaſon. Her Husband's Death, added to her Age and Infirmi⯑ties, would certainly have determined her Life, but that the Greatneſs of her Diſtreſs has been her Relief, by a preſent Depravation of her [264] Senſes. This Abſence of Reaſon is her beſt De⯑fence againſt Age, Sorrow, Poverty, and Sick⯑neſs. I dwell upon this Account ſo diſtinctly, in Obedience to a certain great Spirit, who hides her Name, and has by Letter applied to me to re⯑commend to her ſome Object of Compaſſion, from whom ſhe may be concealed.

This, I think, is a proper Occaſion for exerting ſuch heroick Generoſity; and as there is an inge⯑nuous Shame in thoſe who have known better Fortune to be reduced to receive Obligations, as well as a becoming Pain in the truly Generous to receive Thanks in this Caſe, both thoſe Deli⯑cacies are preſerved; for the Perſon obliged is as incapable of knowing her Benefactreſs, as her Benefactreſs is unwilling to be known by her.

NEver was Man ſo much teazed, or ſuffered half the Uneaſineſs, as I have done this Evening, between a Couple of Fellows with whom I was unfortunately engaged to ſup, where there were alſo ſeveral others in Company. One of them is the moſt invincibly impudent, and the other as incorrigibly abſurd. Upon hearing my Name, the Man of Audacity, as he calls himſelf, began to aſſume an aukward Way of Reſerve, by Way of Ridicule upon me as a Cenſor, and ſaid, He muſt have a Care of his Behaviour, for there would Notes be writ upon all that ſhould paſs. The Man of Freedom and Eaſe (for ſuch the other thinks himſelf) asked me, Whether my Siſter Jenny was breeding or not? After they had done with me, they were impertinent to a very ſmart, but well-bred Man, who ſtood his Ground very well, and let the Company ſee they ought, but could not be out of Countenance. I look upon ſuch a Defence as a real good Action; for while he received their Fire, there was a mo⯑deſt and worthy young Gentleman ſat ſecure by him, and a Lady of the Family at the ſame Time, guarded againſt the nauſeous Familiarity [...]f the one, and the more painful Mirth of the [...]ther. This Converſation, where there were Thouſand Things ſaid not worth repeating, [...]ade me conſider with my ſelf, How 'tis that [...]en of theſe diſagreeable Characters often go [...]eat Lengths in the World, and ſeldom fail of [...]tſtripping Men of Merit; nay, ſucceed ſo [266] well, that with a Load of Imperfections on their Heads, they go on in Oppoſition to general Diſ⯑eſteem, while they who are every Way their Superiors, languiſh away their Days, tho' poſſeſ⯑ſed of the Approbation and Good-will of all who know them.

If we would examine into the Secret Springs of Action in the Impudent and the Abſurd, we ſhall find, tho' they bear a great Reſemblance in their Behaviour, that they move upon very diffe⯑rent Principles. The Impudent are preſſing, tho' they know they are diſagreeable; the Abſurd are importunate, becauſe they think they are ac⯑ceptable, Impudence is a Vice, and Abſurdity a Folly. Sir Francis Bacon talks very agreeably upon the Subject of Impudence. He takes No⯑tice, That the Orator being asked, What was the Firſt, Second, and Third Requiſite, to make a fine Speaker? Still anſwered, Action. This, ſaid he, is the very outward Form of Speaking, and yet it is what with the Generality has more Force than the moſt conſummate Abilities. Im⯑pudence is to the reſt to Mankind of the ſame Uſe which Action is to Orators.

The Truth is, the Groſs of Men are governed more by Appearances than Realities, and the Im⯑pudent Man in his Air and Behaviour undertakes for himſelf that he has Ability and Merit, while the Modeſt or Diffident gives himſelf up as one who is poſſeſſed of neither. For this Reaſon, Men of Front carry Things before 'em with little Oppoſition, and make ſo skilful an Uſe of their Talent, that they can grow out of Humour like Men of Conſequence, and be ſowr, and make their Diſſatisfaction do them the ſame Service as Deſert. This Way of Thinking has often furni⯑ſhed me with an Apology for great Men who confer Favours on the Impudent. In carrying on the Government of Mankind, they are not to conſider what Men they themſelves approve in [267] their Cloſets and private Converſations, but what Men will extend themſelves furtheſt, and more generally paſs upon the World for ſuch as their Patrons want in ſuch and ſuch Statious, and con⯑ſequently take ſo much Work off the Hands of thoſe who employ them.

Far be it that I ſhould attempt to leſſen the Acceptance which Men of this Character meet with in the World; but I humbly propoſe only, that they who have Merit of a different Kind, would accompliſh themſelves in ſome Degree with this Quality of which I am now treating. Nay, I allow theſe Gentlemen to preſs as for⯑ward as they pleaſe in the Advancement of their Intereſts and Fortunes, but not to intrude upon others in Converſation alſo: Let them do what they can with the Rich and the Great, as far as they are ſuffered, but let them not interrupt the Eaſy and Agreeable. They may be uſeful as Ser⯑vants in Ambition, but never as Aſſociates in Pleaſure. However, as I would ſtill drive at ſomething inſtructive in every Lucubration, I muſt recommend it to all Men who feel in them⯑ſelves an Impulſe towards attempting laudable Actions, to acquire ſuch a Degree of Aſſurance, as never to loſe the Poſſeſſion of themſelves in publick or private, ſo far as to be incapable of acting with a due Decorum on any Occaſion they are call'd to. It is a mean Want of Fortitude in a good Man, not to be able to do a virtuous Action with as much Confidence as an impudent Fel⯑low does an ill One. There is no Way of mend⯑ing ſuch falſe Modeſty, but by laying it down for a Rule, That there is nothing ſhameful but what is criminal.

The Jeſuits, an Order whoſe Inſtitution is per⯑fectly calculated for making a Progreſs in the World, take Care to accompliſh their Diſciples for it, by breaking them of all impertinent Baſh⯑fulneſs, and accuſtoming them to a ready Per⯑formance [268] of all indifferent Things. I remember in my Travels, when I was once at a publick Exer⯑ciſe in one of their Schools, a young Man made a moſt admirable Speech, with all the Beauty of Action, Cadence of Voice, and Force of Argument imaginable, in Defence of the Love of Glory. We were all enamoured with the Grace of the Youth, as he came down from the Desk, where he ſpoke, to preſent a Copy of his Speech to the Head of the Society. The Principal received it in a very obliging Manner, and bid him go to the Market-Place and fetch a Joint of Meat, for he ſhould dine with him. He bowed, and in a Trice the Orator returned, full of the Senſe of Glory in this Obedience, and with the beſt Shoulder of Mutton in the Market.

This Treatment capacitates them for every Scene of Life. I therefore recommend it to the Conſideration of all who have the Inſtruction of Youth, Which of the Two is the more inexcu⯑ſable, he who does every Thing by the meer Force of his Impudence, or who performs no⯑thing through the Oppreſſion of his Modeſty? In a Word, it is a Weakneſs not to be able to at⯑tempt what a Man thinks he ought, and there is no Modeſty but in Self-Denial.

P. S. Upon my coming Home I received the following Petition and Letter:

I muſt own the Requeſt of the aged Petitioner to be founded upon a very undeſerved Diſtreſs; and ſince ſhe might, had ſhe had Juſtice done her, been Mother of many Pretenders to this Prize, inſtead of being one her ſelf, I do readily grant her Demand; but as for the Propoſal of Mrs. Iſabella Kit, I cannot project a Lottery for her, 'till I have Security ſhe will ſurrender her ſelf to the Winner.

THE Summer Seaſon now approaching, ſe⯑veral of our Family have invited me to paſs away a Month or Two in the Country, and in⯑deed nothing could be more agreeable to me than ſuch a Receſs, did I not conſider that I am by Two Quarts a worſe Companion than when I was laſt among my Relations: And I am admo⯑niſhed by ſome of our Club, who have lately vi⯑ſited Staffordſhire, that they drink at a greater Rate than they did at that Time. As every Soil does not produce every Fruit or Tree, ſo every Vice is not the Growth of every Kind of Life; and I have, ever ſince I could think, been aſto⯑niſhed, that Drinking ſhould be the Vice of the Country. If it were poſſible to add to all our Senſes, as we do to that of Sight, by Perſpe⯑ctives, we ſhould methinks more particularly labour to improve them in the midſt of the Va⯑riety of beauteous Objects which Nature has pro⯑duced to entertain us in the Country; and do we in that Place deſtroy the Uſe of what Organs we have? As for my Part, I cannot but lament the Deſtruction that has been made of the Wild Beaſts of the Field, when I ſee large Tracts of Earth poſſeſſed by Men who take no Advantage [271] of their being rational, but lead meer Animal Lives, making it their whole Endeavour to kill in themſelves all they have above Beaſts; to wit, the Uſe of Reaſon, and Taſt of Society. It is frequently boaſted in the Writings of Orators and Poets, That it is to Eloquence and Poeſy we owe that we are drawn out of Woods and Solitudes into Towns and Cities, and from a wild and ſavage Being become acquainted with the Laws of Humanity and Civility. If we are obliged to theſe Arts for ſo great Service, I could wiſh they were employed to give us a Second Turn; that as they have brought us to dwell in Society, (a Bleſſing which no other Creatures know) ſo they would perſwade us, now they have ſettled us, to lay out all our Thoughts in ſurpaſſing each other in thoſe Faculties in which only we excel other Creatures. But it is at pre⯑ſent ſo far otherwiſe, that the Contention ſeems to be, who ſhall be moſt eminent in Performan⯑ces wherein Beaſts enjoy greater Abilities than we have. I'll undertake, were the Butler and Swineherd, at any true Eſquire's in Great Britain, to keep and compare Accounts of what Waſh is drank up in ſo many Hours in the Parlour and the Pigſty, it would appear, the Gentleman of the Houſe gives much more to his Friends than his Hogs.

This, with many other Evils, ariſes from the Error in Men's Judgments, and not making true Diſtinctions between Perſons and Things. It is uſually thought, That a few Sheets of Parch⯑ment, made before a Male and Female of weal⯑thy Houſes come together, give the Heirs and Deſcendants of that Marriage Poſſeſſion of Lands and Tenements; but the Truth is, there is no Man who can be ſaid to be Proprietor of an Eſtate, but he who knows how to enjoy it. Nay, it ſhall never be allowed, that the Land is not a Waſte, when the Maſter is uncultivated. There⯑fore, [272] to avoid Confuſion, it is to be noted, that a Peaſant with a great Eſtate is but an Incum⯑bent, and that he muſt be a Gentleman to be a Landlord. A Landlord enjoys what he has with his Heart, an Incumbent with his Stomach. Gluttony, Drunkenneſs, and Riot, are the Enter⯑tainments of an Incumbent; Benevolence, Ci⯑vility, Social and Humane Virtues, the Accom⯑pliſhments of a Landlord. Who, that has any Paſſion for his native Country, does not think it worſe than conquered, when ſo large Diverſions of it are in the Hands of Salvages, that know no Uſe of Property but to be Tyrants; or Liber⯑ty, but to be unmannerly? A Gentleman in a Country Life enjoys Paradiſe with a Temper fit for it; a Clown is curſed in it with all the cut⯑ting and unruly Paſſions Man could be torment⯑ed with when he was expelled from it.

There is no Character more deſervedly eſteem⯑ed than that of a Country Gentleman, who un⯑derſtands the Station in which Heaven and Na⯑ture have plac'd him. He is Father to his Te⯑nants, and Patron to his Neighbours, and is more ſuperior to thoſe of lower Fortune by his Bene⯑volence than his Poſſeſſions. He juſtly divides his Time between Solitude and Company, ſo as to uſe the one for the other. His Life is ſpent in the good Offices of an Advocate, a Referee, a Companion, a Mediator, and a Friend. His Counſel and Knowledge are a Guard to the Sim⯑plicity and Innocence of thoſe of lower Talents, and the Entertainment and Happineſs of thoſe of equal. When a Man in a Country Life has this Turn, as it is to be hoped Thouſands have, he lives in a more happy Condition than any is deſcribed in the Paſtoral Deſcriptions of Poets, or the vain-glorious Solitudes recorded by Philo⯑ſophers.

To a Thinking Man it would ſeem prodigious, that the very Situation in a Country Life does [273] not incline Men to a Scorn of the mean Gratifi⯑cations ſome take in it. To ſtand by a Stream, naturally lulls the Mind into Compoſure and Re⯑verence; to walk in Shades, diverſifies that Plea⯑ſure; and a bright Sunſhine makes a Man con⯑ſider all Nature in Gladneſs, and himſelf the happieſt Being in it, as he is the moſt conſcious of her Gifts and Enjoyments. It would be the moſt impertinent Piece of Pedantry imaginable to form our Pleaſures by Imitation of others. I will not therefore mention Scipio and Laelius, who are generally produced on this Subject as Authorities for the Charms of a Rural Life. He that does not feel the Force of agreeable Views and Situations in his own Mind, will hardly ar⯑rive at the Satisfactions they bring from the Re⯑flexions of others. However, they who have a Taſt that Way, are more particularly inflamed with Deſire when they ſee others in the Enjoy⯑ment of it, eſpecially when Men carry into the Country a Knowledge of the World as well as of Nature. The Leiſure of ſuch Perſons is en⯑dear'd and refin'd by Reflexion upon Cares and Inquietudes. The Abſence of paſt Labours dou⯑bles preſent Pleaſures, which is ſtill augmented, if the Perſon in Solitude has the Happineſs of be⯑ing addicted to Letters. My Couſin Frank Bicker⯑ſtaff gives me a very good Notion of this ſort of Felicity in the following Letter.

HAving this Morning ſpent ſome Time in read⯑ing on the Subject of the Viciſſitude of hu⯑mane Life, I laid aſide my Book, and began to ruminate on the Diſcourſe which raiſed in me thoſe Reflections. I believed it a very good Of⯑fice to the World, to ſit down and ſhow others the Road in which I am experienced by my Wan⯑drings and Errors. This is Seneca's Way of Thinking, and he had half convinced me, how dangerous it is to our [...]ue Happineſs and Tran⯑quility to fix our Minds upon any Thing which is in the Power of Fortune. It is excuſable only in Animals who have not the Uſe of Reaſon, to be catched by Hooks and Baits. Wealth, Glory, and Power, which the ordinary People look up at with Admiration, the Learned and Wiſe know to be only ſo many Snares laid to enſlave them. There is nothing further to be ſought for with Earneſtneſs, than what will cloath and feed us. If we pamper our ſelves in our Diet, or give our Imaginations a Looſe in our Deſires, the Body will no longer obey the Mind. Let us think no further than to defend our ſelves againſt Hunger, Thirſt, and Cold. We are to remember, that every Thing elſe is deſpicable, and not worth our Care. To want little is true Grandeur, and very [276] few Things are great to a great Mind. Thoſe who form their Thoughts in this Manner, and ab⯑ſtract themſelves from the World, are out of the Way of Fortune, and can look with Contempt both on her Favours and her Frowns. At the ſame Time, they who ſeparate themſelves from the im⯑mediate Commerce with the buſy Part of Man⯑kind, are ſtill beneficial to them, while by their Studies and Writings they recommend to them the ſmall Value which ought to be put upon what they purſue with ſo much Labour and Diſquiet. Whilſt ſuch Men are thought the moſt idle, they are the moſt uſefully employed. They have all Things, both Humane and Divine, under Conſi⯑deration. To be perfectly free from the Inſults of Fortune, we ſhould arm our ſelves with their Reflections. We ſhould learn, That none but in⯑tellectual Poſſeſſions are what we can properly call our own. All Things from without are but bor⯑rowed. What Fortune gives us, is not ours; and whatever ſhe gives, ſhe can take away.

It is a common Imputation to Seneca, that tho' he declaimed with ſo much Strength of Reaſon, and a Stoical Contempt of Riches and Power, he was at the ſame Time one of the richeſt and moſt powerful Men in Rome. I know no Inſtance of his being inſolent in that Fortune, and can there⯑fore read his Thoughts on thoſe Subjects with the more Deference. I will not give Philoſophy ſo poor a Look, as to ſay it cannot live in Courts; but I am of Opinion, that it is there in the great⯑eſt Eminence, when amidſt the Affluence of All the World can beſtow, and the Add eſſes of a Crowd who follow him for that Reaſon, a Man can think both of himſelf and thoſe about him abſtracted from theſe Circumſtances. Such a Phi⯑loſopher is as much above an Anchorite, as a wiſe Matron, who paſſes through the World with Inno⯑cence, is preferable to the Nun who locks her ſelf up from it.

[277] Full of theſe Thoughts I left my Lodgings, and took a Walk to the Court End of the Town; and the Hurry and Buſy Faces I met with about White⯑hall, made me form to my ſelf Ideas of the dif⯑ferent Proſpects of all I ſaw, from the Turn and Caſt of their Countenances. All, methought, had the ſame Thing in View, but proſecuted their Hopes with a different Air: Some ſhowed an un⯑becoming Eagerneſs, ſome a ſurly Impatience, ſome a winning Deference, but the Generality a ſervile Complaiſance.

I could not but obſerve, as I roved about the Offices, That all who were ſtill but in Expecta⯑tion, murmured at Fortune; and all who had ob⯑tained their Wiſhes, immediately began to ſay, there was no ſuch Being. Each believed it an Act of blind Chance that any other Man was prefer⯑red, but owed only to Service and Merit what he had obtained himſelf. It is the Fault of ſtudious Men to appear in publick with too contemplative a Carriage; and I began to obſerve, that my Fi⯑gure, Age, and Dreſs, made me particular: For which Reaſon I thought it better to remove a ſtu⯑dious Countenance from among buſy ones, and take a Turn with a Friend in the Privy-Garden.

When my Friend was alone with me there, Iſaac, ſaid he, I know you came Abroad only to Moralize and make Obſervations, and I will car⯑ry you hard by, where you ſhall ſee all that you have your ſelf conſidered or read in Authors, or collected from Experience, concerning blind For⯑tune and irreſiſtible Deſtiny, illuſtrated in real Perſons and proper Mechaniſms. The Graces, the Muſes, the Fates, all the Beings which have a good or ill Influence upon Humane Life, are, you'l ſay, very juſtly figured in the Perſons of Women; and where I am carrying you, you'l ſee enough of that Sex together, in an Employment which will have ſo important an Effect upon thoſe who are to receive their Manufacture, as will [278] make them be reſpectively called Deities or Fu⯑ries, as their Labour ſhall prove diſadvantagious or ſucceſsful to their Votaries. Without waiting for my Anſwer, he carried me to an Apartment contiguous to the Banqueting-Houſe, where there were placed at Two long Tables a large Company of young Women, in decent and agreeable Ha⯑bits, making up Tickets for the Lottery appoint⯑ed by the Government. There walk'd between the Tables a Perſon who preſided over the Work. This Gentlewoman ſeemed an Emblem of For⯑tune, ſhe commanded as if unconcerned in their Buſineſs; and though every Thing was performed by her Direction, ſhe did not viſibly interpoſe in Particulars. She ſeemed in Pain at our near Ap⯑proach to her, and moſt to approve us, when we made her no Advances. Her Height, her Mein, her Geſture, her Shape, and her Countenance, had ſomething that ſpoke both Familiarity and Dignity. She therefore appeared to me not only a Picture of Fortune, but of Fortune as I liked her; which made me break out in the following Words:

IT has happened to be for ſome Days the De⯑liberation at the Learned'ſt Board in this Houſe, whence Honour and Title had its firſt Original. Timoleon, who is very particular in his Opinions, but is thought particular for no other Cauſe but that he acts againſt depraved Cuſtom, by the Rules of Nature and Reaſon, in a very handſome Diſcourſe gave the Company to under⯑ſtand, [280] That in thoſe Ages which firſt degenera⯑ted from Simplicity of Life, and Natural Juſtice, the Wiſe among them thought it neceſſary to in⯑ſpire Men with the Love of Virtue, by giving them who adhered to the Intereſts of Innocence and Truth, ſome diſtinguiſhing Name to raiſe them above the common Level of Mankind. This Way of fixing Appellations of Credit upon emi⯑nent Merit, was what gave Being to Titles and Terms of Honour. Such a Name, continued he, without the Qualities which ſhould give a Man Pretence to be exalted above others, does but turn him to Jeſt and Ridicule. Should one ſee another cudgelled, or ſcurvily treated, Do you think a Man ſo uſed would take it kindly to be called Hector, or Alexander? Every Thing muſt bear a Proportion with the outward Value that is ſet upon it; or inſtead of being long had in Venera⯑tion, that very Term of Eſteem will become a Word of Reproach. When Timoleon had done ſpeaking, Urbanus purſued the ſame Purpoſe, by giving an Account of the Manner in which the Indian Kings, who were lately in Great Britain, did Honour to the Perſon where they lodged. They were placed, ſaid he, in an handſome Apart⯑ment, at an Upholſterer's in King-ſtreet, Covent-Garden. The Man of the Houſe, it ſeems, had been very obſervant of them, and ready in their Service. Theſe juſt and generous Princes, who act according to the Dictates of natural Juſtice, thought it proper to confer ſome Dignity upon their Landlord before they left his Houſe. One of them had been ſick during his Reſidence there, and having never before been in a Bed, had a very great Veneration for him who made that Engine of Repoſe, ſo uſeful and ſo neceſſary in his Diſt reſs. It was conſulted among the Four Princes' by what Name to dignify his great Me⯑ [...] and Services. The Emperor of the Mohocks, [...]nd the other Three Kings, ſtood up, and in that [281] Poſture recounted the Civilities they had recei⯑ved, and particularly repeated the Care which was taken of their Sick Brother. This, in their Imagination, who are uſed to know the Injuries of Weather, and the Viciſſitudes of Cold and Heat, gave them very great Impreſſions of a skil⯑ful Upholſterer, whoſe Furniture was ſo well con⯑trived for their Protection on ſuch Occaſions. It is with theſe leſs inſtructed (I will not ſay leſs knowing) People, the Manner of doing Honour, to impoſe ſome Name ſignificant of the Qualities of the Perſon they diſtinguiſh, and the good Of⯑fices received from him. It was therefore reſol⯑ved, to call their Landlord Cadaroque, which is the Name of the ſtrongeſt Fort in their Part of the World. When they had agreed upon the Name, they ſent for their Landlord, and as he entered into their Preſence, the Emperor of the Mohocks taking him by the Hand, called him Ca⯑daroque. After which the other Three Princes re⯑peated the ſame Word and Ceremony.

Timoleon appeared much ſatisfied with this Ac⯑count, and having a Philoſophick Turn, began to argue againſt the Modes and Manners of thoſe Nations which we eſteem polite, and expreſs himſelf with Diſdain at our unuſual Method of cal⯑ling ſuch as are Strangers to our Innovations, bar⯑barous. I have, ſays he, ſo great a Deference for the Diſtinction given by theſe Princes, that Cada⯑roque ſhall be my Upholſterer.—He was go⯑ing on, but the intended Diſcourſe was interrup⯑ted by Minucio who ſat near him, a ſmall Philo⯑ſopher, who is alſo ſomewhat of a Politician; one of thoſe who ſets up for Knowledge by Doubt⯑ing, and has no other Way of making himſelf conſiderable, but by contradicting all he hears ſaid. He has, beſides much Doubt and Spirit of Contradiction, a conſtant Suſpicion as to State-Affairs. This accompliſh'd Gentleman, with a very awful Brow, and a Countenance full of [282] Weight, told Timoleon, That it was a great Mis⯑fortune Men of Letters ſeldom looked into the Bottom of Things. Will any Man, continued he, perſwade me, that this was not from the Begin⯑ning to the End a concerted Affair? Who can convince the World, that Four Kings ſhall come over here, and lie at the Two Crowns and Cuſhi⯑on, and one of them fall ſick, and the Place be called King-ſtreet, and all this by meer Accident? No, no: To a Man of very ſmall Penetration, it appears, that Tee Yee Neen He Ga Row, Emperor of the Mohocks, was prepared for this Adventure beforehand. I do not care to contradict any Gentleman in his Diſcourſe; but I muſt ſay, how⯑ever, Sa Ga Yeath Rua Geth Ton, and E Tow Oh Koam, might be ſurpriſed in this Matter; never⯑theleſs, He Nec Yeth Taw No Row knew it before he ſet Foot on the Engliſh Shore.

Timoleon looked ſtedfaſtly at him for ſome Time, then ſhaked his Head, paid for his Tea, and marched off. Several others who ſat round him, were in their Turns attacked by this ready Diſputant. A Gentleman who was at ſome Di⯑ſtance, happened in Diſcourſe to ſay it was Four Miles to Hammerſmith. I muſt beg your Pardon, ſays Minucio, when we ſay a Place is ſo far off, we do not mean exactly from the very Spot of Earth we are in, but from the Town where we are; ſo that you muſt begin your Account from the End of Piccadilly; and if you do ſo, I'll lay any Man Ten to One, it is not above Three good Miles off. Another, about Minucio's Level of Underſtanding, began to take him up in this im⯑portant Argument, and maintained, That conſi⯑dering the Way from Pimlico at the End of St. James's Park, and the Croſſing from Chelſea by Earl's-Court, he would ſtand to it, that it was full Four Miles. But Minucio replied with great Vehemence, and ſeemed ſo much to have the bet⯑ter of the Diſpute, that this Adverſary quitted the [283] Field, as well as the other. I ſat till I ſaw the Table almoſt all vaniſhed, where, for Want of Diſcourſe, Minucio asked me, How I did? To which I anſwered, Very well. That's very much, ſaid he; I aſſure you, you look paler than ordinary. Nay, thought I, if he won't allow me to know whether I am well or not, there's no ſtaying for me neither. Upon which I took my Leave, pon⯑dering as I went Home at this ſtrange Poverty of Imagination, which makes Men run into the Fault of giving Contradiction. They want in their Minds Entertainment for themſelves or their Company, and therefore build all they ſpeak up⯑on what is ſtarted by others; and ſince they can⯑not improve that Foundation, they ſtrive to de⯑ſtroy it. The only Way of dealing with theſe People is, to anſwer in Monoſyllables, or by Way of Queſtion. When one of them tells you a Thing that he thinks extraordinary, I go no fur⯑ther than, Say you ſo, Sir? Indeed! Heyday! Or, Is it come to that! Theſe little Rules, which appear but ſilly in the Repetition, have brought me with great Tranquility to this Age. And I have made it an Obſervation, that as Aſſent is more agreeable than Flattery, ſo Contradiction is more odious than Calumny.

WHEN a Man is in a ſerious Mood, and ponders upon his own Make, with a Re⯑troſpect to the Actions of his Life, and the many fatal Miſcarriages in it, which he owes to ungo⯑verned Paſſions, he is then apt to ſay to himſelf, That Experience has guarded him againſt ſuch Errors for the future: But Nature often recurs in Spite of his beſt Reſolutions, and it is to the very End of our Days a Struggle between our Reaſon and our Temper, which ſhall have the Empire over us. Hewever, this is very much to be help⯑ed by Circumſpection, and a conſtant Alarm againſt the firſt Onſets of Paſſion. As this is in general a neceſſary Care to make a Man's Life eaſy and agreeable to himſelf, ſo it is more parti⯑cularly the Duty of ſuch as are engaged in Friend⯑ſhip and more near Commerce with others. Thoſe who have their Joys, have alſo their Griefs in Proportion, and none can extremely exalt or depreſs Friends, but Friends. The harſh Things which come from the reſt of the World, are re⯑ceived and repulſed with that Spirit which every honeſt Man bears for his own Vindication; but Unkindneſs in Words or Actions among Friends, affect us at the firſt Inſtant in the inmoſt Receſ⯑ſes of our Souls. Indifferent People, if I may ſo ſay, can wound us only in heterogeneous Parts, maim us in our Legs or Arms; but the Friend can [285] make no Paſs but at the Heart it ſelf. On the other Side, the moſt impotent Aſſiſtance, the meer well Wiſhes of a Friend, gives a Man Con⯑ſtancy and Courage againſt the moſt prevailing Force of his Enemies. It is here only a Man en⯑joys and ſuffers to the Quick. For this Reaſon, the moſt gentle Behaviour is abſolutely neceſſary to maintain Friendſhip in any Degree above the com⯑mon Level of Acquaintance. But there is a Re⯑lation of Life much more near than the moſt ſtrict and ſacred Friendſhip, that is to ſay, Marriage. This Union is of too cloſe and delicate a Nature to be eaſily conceived by thoſe who do not know that Condition by Experience. Here a Man ſhould, if poſſible, ſoften his Paſſions; if not for his own Eaſe, in Compliance to a Creature formed with a Mind of a quite different Make from his own. I am ſure, I do not mean it an Injury to Women, when I ſay there is a Sort of Sex in Souls. I am tender of offending them, and know it is hard not to do it on this Subject; but I muſt go on to ſay, That the Soul of a Man and that of a Woman, are made very unlike, according to the Employments for which they are deſigned. The Ladies will pleaſe to obſerve, I ſay, our Minds have different, not ſuperior Qualities to theirs. The Virtues have reſpectively a Maſculine and a Feminine Caſt. What we call in Men Wiſdom, is in Women Pru⯑dence. It is a Partiality to call one greater than the other. A prudent Woman is in the ſame Claſs of Honour as a wiſe Man, and the Scandals in the Way of both are equally dangerous. But to make this State any Thing but a Burthen, and not hang a Weight upon our very Beings, it is very proper each of the Couple ſhould frequent⯑ly remember, that there are many Things which grow out of their very Natures that are pardonable, nay becoming, when conſidered as ſuch, but without that Reflection muſt give the quickeſt Pain and Vexation. To manage well a [286] great Family, is as worthy an Inſtance of Capacity, as to execute a great Employment; and for the Generality, as Women perform the conſiderable Part of their Duties, as well as Men do theirs; ſo in their common Behaviour, thoſe of ordinary Genius are not more trivial than the common Rate of Men; and in my Opinion, the playing of a Fan is every whit as good an Entertainment as the beating a Snuff-Box.

But however I have rambled in this Libertine Manner of Writing by way of Eſſay, I now ſat down with an Intention to repreſent to my Rea⯑ders, how pernicious, how ſudden, and how fatal Surprizes of Paſſion are to the Mind of Man; and that in the more intimate Commerces of Life they are moſt liable to ariſe, even in our moſt ſedate and indolent Hours. Occurrences of this Kind have had very terrible Effects; and when one reflects upon 'em, we cannot but tremble to conſider what we are capable of being wrought up to againſt all the Ties of Nature, Love, Honour, Reaſon, and Religion, tho' the Man who breaks thro' them all, had, an Hour before he did ſo, a lively and virtu⯑ous Senſe of their Dictates. When unhappy Ca⯑taſtrophe's make up Part of the Hiſtory of Princes, and Perſons who act in high Spheres, or are re⯑preſented in the moving Language, and well wrought Scenes of Tragedians, they do not fail of ſtriking us with Terror; but then they affect us only in a tranſient Manner, and paſs thro' our Ima⯑ginations, as Incidents in which our Fortunes are too humble to be concerned, or which Writers form for the Oſtentation of their own Force; or, at moſt, as Things fit rather to exerciſe the Pow⯑ers of our Minds, than to create new Habits in them. Inſtead of ſuch high Paſſages, I was think⯑ing it would be of great Uſe (if any Body could hit it) to lay before the World ſuch Adventures as befall Perſons not exalted above the common Level. This, methought, would better prevail [287] upon the ordinary Race of Men, who are ſo pre⯑poſſeſſed with outward Appearances, that they mi⯑ſtake Fortune for Nature, and believe nothing can relate to them that does not happen to ſuch as live and look like themſelves.

The unhappy End of a Gentleman whoſe Story an Acquaintance of mine was juſt now telling me, would be very proper for this End if it could be related with all the Circumſtances as I heard it this Evening; for it touched me ſo much, that I cannot forbear entring upon it.

Mr. Euſtace, a young Gentleman of a good Eſtate near Dublin in Ireland, married a Lady of Youth, Beauty, and Modeſty, and lived with her in gene⯑ral with much Eaſe and Tranquility; but was in his ſecret Temper impatient of Rebuke: She is apt to fall into little Sallies of Paſſion, yet as ſud⯑denly recalled by her own Reflection on her Fault, and the Conſideration of her Husband's Temper. It happened, as he, his Wife, and her Siſter, were at Supper together about Two Months ago, that in the Midſt of a careleſs and familiar Converſa⯑tion, the Siſters fell into a little Warmth and Con⯑tradiction. He, who was one of that Sort of Men who are never unconcerned at what paſſes before them, fell into an outragious Paſſion on the Side of the Siſter. The Perſon about whom they diſputed was ſo near, that they were under no Reſtraint from running into vain Repetitions of paſt Heats: On which Occaſion all the Aggravations of Anger and Diſtaſt boiled up, and were repeated with the Bitterneſs of exaſperated Lovers. The Wife ob⯑ſerving her Husband extremely moved, began to turn it off, and rally him for interpoſing between Two People who from their Infancy had been an⯑gry and pleaſed with each other every Half Hour. But it deſcended deeper into his Thoughts, and they broke up with a ſullen Silence. The Wife immediately retired to her Chamber, whither her Husband ſoon after followed. When they were [288] in Bed, he ſoon diſſembled a Sleep, and ſhe, plea⯑ſed that his Thoughts were compoſed, fell into a real one. Their Apartment was very diſtant from the reſt of their Family, in a lonely Country Houſe. He now ſaw his Opportunity, and with a Dagger he had brought to Bed with him, ſtabbed his Wife in the Side. She awaked in the higheſt Terrour; but immediately imagined it was a Blow deſign'd for her Husband by Ruffians, began to graſp him, and ſtrove to awake and rouze him to defend him⯑ſelf. He ſtill pretended himſelf ſleeping, and gave her a ſecond Wound.

She now drew open the Curtains, and by the Help of Moon-light ſaw his Hand lifted up to ſtab her. The Horror diſarmed her from further Struggling; and he enraged anew at being diſco⯑vered, fixed his Poniard in her Boſom. As ſoon as he believed he had diſpatched her, he attempt⯑ed to eſcape out of the Window: But ſhe, ſtill alive, called to him not to hurt himſelf; for ſhe might live. He was ſo ſtung with the inſupport⯑able Reflection upon her Goodneſs and his own Villany, that he jumped to the Bed, and wounded her all over with as much Rage as if every Blow was provoked by new Aggravations. In this Fury of Mind he fled away. His Wife had ſtill Strength to go to her Siſter's Apartment, and give her an Account of this wonderful Tragedy; but died the next Day. Some Weeks after, an Officer of Juſtice, in attempting to ſeize the Criminal, fired upon him, as did the Criminal upon the Officer. Both their Balls took Place, and both immediately expired.

WHEN I firſt began to learn to puſh this laſt Winter, my Maſter had a great deal of Work upon his Hands to make me unlearn the Poſtures and Motions which I had got by having [...]n my younger Years practiſed Back-Sword, with [...] little Eye to the Single Falchion. Knock down, was the Word in the Civil Wars, and we gene⯑ [...]ally added to this Skill the Knowledge of the Corniſh Hug, as well as the Grapple, to play with Hand and Foot. By this Means I was for defend⯑ [...]ng my Head when the French Gentleman was making a full Paſs at my Boſom, inſomuch that he [...]old me I was fairly killed Seven Times in one Morning, without having done my Maſter any [...]ther Miſchief than one Knock on the Pate. This was a great Misfortune to me; and I believe I [...]ay ſay, without Vanity, I am the firſt who ever [...]ſhed ſo erroneouſly; and yet conquered the Pre⯑ [...]dice of Education ſo well, as to make my Paſſes [...] clear, and recover Hand and Foot with that [...]gility, as I do at this Day. The Truth of it is, [...]e firſt Rudiments of Education are given very [...]diſcreetly by moſt Parents, as much with Rela⯑ [...]on to the more important Concerns of the Mind, [...] the Geſtures of the Body. Whatever Chil⯑ [...]en are deſigned for, and whatever Proſpects the [...]tune or Intereſt of their Parents may give [290] them in their future Lives, they are all promiſ⯑cuouſly inſtructed the ſame Way; and Horace and Virgil muſt be thrummed by a Boy as well before he goes to an Apprenticeſhip as to the Univer⯑sity. This ridiculous Way of treating the Under⯑aged of this Iſland has very often raiſed both my Spleen and Mirth, but I think never both at once ſo much as to Day. A good Mother of our Neighbourhood made me a Viſit with her Son and Heir, a Lad ſomewhat above Five Foot, and wants but little of the Height and Strength of a good Muſquetier in any Regiment in the Service. Her Buſineſs was to deſire I would examine him, for he was far gone in a Book, the firſt Letters of which ſhe often ſaw in my Papers. The Youth produced it, and I found it was my Friend Ho⯑race. It was very eaſy to turn to the Place the Boy was learning in, which was the Fifth Ode of the Firſt Book of Pyrrha. I read it over aloud, as well becauſe I am always delighted when I turn to the beautiful Parts of that Author, as alſo to gain Time for conſidering a little how to keep up the Mother's Pleaſure in her Child, which I thought Barbarity to interrupt. In the [...] Place I asked him, Who this ſame Pyrrhus was? He anſwered very readily, She was the Wife of Pyrrhus, one of Alexander's Captains I lifted up my Hands. The Mother courteſies—Nay, ſays ſhe,—I knew you would ſtand in Admiration.—I aſſure you, continued ſhe, for all he looks ſo tall, he is but very young Pray ask him ſome more, never ſpare him. Win that I took the Liberty to ask him, What was the Character of this Gentlewoman? He read the Three firſt Verſes:

[291] And very gravely told me, She lived at the Sign of the Roſe in a Cellar. I took Care to be very much aſtoniſhed at the Lad's Improvements; but withal adviſed her, as ſoon as poſſible, to take him from School, for he could learn no more there. This very ſilly Dialogue was a lively Image of the impertinent Method uſed in breeding Boys without Genius or Spirit, to the reading Things for which their Heads were never framed. But this is the natural Effect of a certain Vanity in the Minds of Parents, who are wonderfully de⯑lighted with the Thought of breeding their Chil⯑dren to Accompliſhments, which they believe no⯑thing but Want of the ſame Care in their own Fathers prevented them from being Maſters of. Thus it is, that the Part of Life moſt fir for Im⯑provement, is generally 'employed in a Method againſt the Bent of Nature; and a Lad of ſuch Parts as are fit for an Occupation, where there can be no Calls out of the beaten Path, is Two or Three Years of his Time wholly taken up in knowing how well Ovid's Miſtreſs became ſuch a Dreſs; how ſuch a Nymph for her Cruelty was changed into ſuch an Animal; and how it is made generous in Aeneas to put Turnus to Death. Gallantries that can no more come within the Oc⯑currences of the Lives of ordinary Men, than they can be reliſhed by their Imaginations. How⯑ever, ſtill the Humour goes on from one Genera⯑tion to another; and the Paſtry-Cook here in the Lane the other Night told me, He would not yet take away his Son from his Learning, but has reſolved, as ſoon as he had a little Smattering in the Greek, to put him Apprentice to a Soap-boyl⯑er. Theſe wrong Beginnings determine our Suc⯑ceſs in the World; and when our Thoughts are originally falſly biaſſed, their Agility and Force do but carry us the further out of our Way in Proportion to our Speed. But we are half Way our Journey when we have got into the right [292] Road. If all our Days were uſefully employed, and we did not ſet out impertinently, we ſhould not have ſo many groteſque Proreſſors in all the Arts of Life, but every Man would be in a pro⯑per and becoming Method of diſtinguiſhing or entertaining himſelf ſuitably to what Nature de⯑ſigned him. As they go on now, our Parents do not only force us upon what is againſt our Ta⯑lents, but our Teachers are alſo as injudicious in what they put us to learn. I have hardly ever ſince ſuffered ſo much by the Charms of any Beauty, as I did before I had a Senſe of Paſſion, for not apprehending that the Smile of Lalage was what pleaſed Horace; and I verily believe, the Stripes I ſuffered about Digito male p rtinaci, has given that irreconcilable Averſion, which I ſhall carry to my Grave, againſt Coquets.

As for the elegant Writer of whom I am talk⯑ing, his Excellencies are to be obſerved as they relate to the different Concerns of his Life; and he is always to be looked upon as a Lover, a Cour⯑tier, or a Man of Wit. His admirable Odes have numberleſs Inſtances of his Merit in each of theſe Characters. His Epiſtles and Satyrs are full of proper Notices for the Conduct of Life in a Court; and what we call Good Breeding, moſt agreeably intermixed with his Morality. His Addreſſes to the Perſons who favoured him are ſo inimitably engaging, that Auguſtus complained of him for ſo ſeldom writing to him, and asked him, Whether he was afraid Poſterity ſhould read their Names together? Now for the Generality of Men to ſpend much Time in ſuch Writings, is as plea⯑ſant a Folly as any he ridicules. Whatever the Crowd of Scholars may pretend, if their Way of Life, or their own Imaginations, do not lead then to a Taſt of him, they may read, nay write, Fifty Volumes upon him, and be juſt as they were when they began. I remember to have heard a great Painter ſay, There are certain Faces for [293] certain Painters, as well as certain Subjects for certain Poets. This is as true in the Choice of Studies, and no one will ever reliſh an Author thoroughly well, who would not have been fit Company for that Author had they lived at the ſame Time. All others are Mechanicks in Learn⯑ing, and take the Sentiments of Writers like Waiting-Servants, who report what paſſed at their Maſters Table; but debaſe every Thought and Expreſſion, for want of the Air with which they were uttered.

THE Learned Scotus, to diſtinguiſh the Race of Mankind, gives every Individual of that Species what he calls a Seity, ſomething peculiar to himſelf, which makes him different from all other Perſons in the World. This Particularity renders him either venerable or ridiculous, ac⯑cording as he uſes his Talents, which always grow out into Faults, or improve into Virtues. In the Office I have undertaken, you are to obſerve, That I have hitherto preſented only the more inſignifi⯑cant and lazy Part of Mankind under the Deno⯑mination of Dead Men, together with the De⯑grees towards Non-Exiſtence, in which others can neither be ſaid to live or be defunct, but are only Animals meerly dreſſed up like Men, and differ from each other but as Flies do by a little Co⯑louring [294] or Fluttering of their Wings. Now as our Diſcourſes heretofore have chiefly regarded the Indolent Part of the Species, it remains that we do Juſtice alſo upon the impertinently Active and Enterprizing. Such as theſe I ſhall take par⯑ticular Care to place in ſafe Cuſtody, and have uſed all poſſible Diligence to run up my Edifice in Moorfields for that Service.

We who are adept in Aſtrology, can impute it to ſeveral Cauſes in the Planets, That this Quarter of our great City is the Region of ſuch Perſons as either never had, or have loſt, the Uſe of Reaſon. It has indeed been Time out of Mind the Recep⯑tacle of Fools as well as Madmen. The Care and Information of the former I aſſign to other learned Men, who have for that End taken up their Ha⯑bitation in thoſe Parts; as, among others, to the famous Dr. Trotter, and my ingenious Friend Dr. Langham. Theſe oraculous Proficients are Day and Night employed in deep Searches, for the Direction of ſuch as run aſtray after their loſt Goods: But at preſent they are more parti⯑cularly ſerviceable to their Country, in foretelling the Fate of ſuch as have Chances in the Publick Lottery. Dr. Langham ſhows a peculiar Genero⯑ſity on this Occaſion, taking only one Half-Crown for a Prediction, Eighteen Pence of which to be paid out of the Prizes; which Method the Doctor is willing to comply with in Favour of every Ad⯑venturer in the whole Lottery. Leaving there⯑fore the whole Generation of ſuch Enquirers to ſuch Litcrati as I have now mentioned, we are to proceed towards Peopling our Houſe, which we have erected with the greateſt Coſt and Care imaginable.

It is neceſſary in this Place to premiſe, That the Superiority and Force of Mind which is born with Men of great Genius; and which, when it falls in with a noble Imagination, is called Poeti⯑cal Fury, does not come under my Conſideration: [295] but the Pretence to ſuch an Impulſe without na⯑tural Warmth, ſhall be allowed a fit Object of this Charity; and all the Volumes written by ſuch Hands, ſhall be from Time to Time placed in proper Order upon the Rails of the unhouſed Bookſellers within the Diſtrict of the College, (who have long inhabited this Quarter) in the ſame Manner as they are al eady diſpoſed ſoon after their Publication. I promiſe my ſelf from theſe Writings my beſt Opiates for thoſe Patients, whoſe high Imaginations, and hot Spirits, have waked them into Diſtraction. Their boiling Tem⯑pers are not to be wrought upon by my Gruels and Julips, but muſt ever be employed, or appear to be ſo, or their Recovery will be impracticable. I ſhall therefore make Uſe of ſuch Poets as pre⯑ſerve ſo conſtant a Mediocrity, as never to elevate the Mind into Joy, or depreſs it into Sadneſs, yet at the ſame Time keep the Faculties of the Rea⯑ders in Suſpence, tho' they introduce no Idea's of their own. By this Means, a diſordered Mind, like a broken Limb, will recover its Strength by the ſole Benefit of being out of Uſe, and lying without Motion. But as Reading is not an Enter⯑tainment that can take up the full Time of my Patients, I have now in Penſion a proportionable Number of Story-Tellers, who are by Turns to walk about the Galleries of the Houſe, and by their Narrations ſecond the Labours of my pretty good Poets. There are among theſe Story-Tel⯑lers ſome that have ſo earneſt Countenances, and weighty Brows, that they will draw a Madman, even when his Fit is juſt coming on, into a Whiſ⯑per, and by the Force of Shrugs, Nods, and buſy Geſtures, make him ſtand amazed ſo long as that we may have Time to give him his Broth without Danger.

But as Fortune has the Poſſeſſion of Men's Minds, a Phyſician may cure all the ſick People of ordi⯑nary Degree in the whole Town and never come [296] into Reputation. I ſhall therefore begin with Perſons of Condition; and the firſt I ſhall under⯑take, ſhall be the Lady Fidget, the general Viſitant, and Will Voluble, the fine Talker. Theſe Perſons ſhall be firſt locked up, for the Peace of all whom the one viſits, and all whom the other talks to.

The Paſſion which firſt touched the Brain of both theſe Perſons, was Envy; and has had ſuch wondrous Effects, that to this, Lady Fidget owes that ſhe is ſo courteous; to this, Will Voluble that he is eloquent. Fidget has a reſtleſs Torment in hearing of any one's Proſperity, and cannot know any Quiet till ſhe viſits her, and is Eye-Witneſs of ſomething that leſſens it. Thus her Life is a continual Search after what does not concern her, and her Companions ſpeak kindly even of the Abſent and the Unfortunate, to teaze her. She was the firſt that viſited Flavia after the Small-pox, and has never ſeen her ſince becauſe ſhe is not altered. Call a young Woman hand⯑ſome in her Company, and ſhe tells you, It is pity ſhe has no Fortune: Say ſhe is rich, and ſhe is as ſorry that ſhe is ſilly. With all this ill Nature, Fidget is her ſelf young, rich, and handſome; but loſes the Pleaſure of all thoſe Qualities, becauſe ſhe has them in common with others.

To make up her Miſery, ſhe is well-bred, ſhe hears Commendations till ſhe is ready to faint for Want of venting her ſelf in Contradictions. This Madneſs is not expreſſed by the Voice; but is ut⯑tered in the Eyes and Features: Its firſt Symp⯑tom is upon beholding an agreeable Object, a ſudden Approbation immediately checked with Diſlike.

This Lady I ſhall take the Liberty to conduct into a Bed of Straw and Darkneſs, and have ſome Hopes, that after long Abſence from the Light, the Pleaſure of ſeeing at all may reconcile her to what ſhe ſhall ſee, tho' it proves to be never ſo agreeable.

[297] My Phyſical Remarks on the Diſtraction of Envy in other Perſons, and particularly in Will Voluble, is interrupted by a Viſit from Mr. Kidney, with Advices which will being Matter of new Diſturbance to many poſſeſſed with this Sort of Diſorder, which I ſhall publiſh to bring out the Symptoms more kindly, and lay the Diſtemper more open to my View.

This Evening a Mail from Holland brought the following Advices:

From the Camp before Douay, May 26. N. S. On the 23d the French aſſembled their Army, and en⯑camped with their Right near Bouchain, and their Left near Creuveuceur. Upon this Motion of the Enemy, the Duke of Marlborough and Prince Eu⯑gene made a Movement with their Army on the 24th, and encamped from Arlieux to Vitry and Iſez-Eſquerchien, where they are ſo advantagiouſly poſted, that they not only cover the Siege, ſecure our Convoys of Proviſions, Forage, and Ammu⯑nition, from Liſle and Tournay, and the Canals and Dikes we have made to turn the Water of the Scarp and La Cenſe to Bouchain; but are in a Readineſs, by marching from the Right, to poſ⯑ſeſs themſelves of the Field of Battle marked out betwixt Vitry and Montigny, or from the Left to gain the Lines of Circumvallation betwixt Fierin and Dechy: So that whatever Way the Enemy ſhall approach to attack us whether by the Plains of Lens, or by Bouchain and Valenciennes, we have but a very ſmall Movement to make, to poſſeſs our ſelves of the Ground on which it will be moſt advantagious to receive them. The Enemy march⯑ed this Morning from their Left, and are encamp⯑ed with their Right at Oiſy, and their Left to⯑wards Aeras, and, according to our Advices, will paſs the Scarp to Morrow and enter on the Plains [298] of Lens, though ſeveral Regiments of Horſe, the German and Liege Troops, which are deſtined to compoſe Part of their Army, have not yet joined them. If they paſs the Scarp, we ſhall do the like at the ſame Time, to poſſeſs our ſelves with all poſſible Advantage of the Field of Battle: But if they continue where they are, we ſhall not re⯑move, becauſe in our preſent Station we ſuffici⯑ently cover from all Inſults both our Siege and Convoys.

Monſieur Villars cannot yet go without Crut⯑ches, and 'tis believed will have much Difficulty to ride. He and the Duke of Berwick are to com⯑mand the French Army, the reſt of the Mareſchals being only to aſſiſt in Council.

Laſt Night we entirely perfected Four Bridges over the Avant Foſſe at both Attacks; and our Saps are ſo far advanced, that in Three or Four Days Batteries will be raiſed on the Glacis, to bat⯑ter in Breach both the Outworks and Ramparts of the Town.

Letters from the Hague of the 27th, N. S. ſay, That the Deputies of the States of Holland, who ſet out for Gertruydenberg on the 23d, to renew the Conferences with the French Miniſters, returned on the 26th, and had communicated to the States General the new Overtures that were made on the Part of France, which it is believed, if they are in Earneſt, may produce a general Treaty.

IN the Diſtribution of the Apartments in the New Bedlam, proper Regard is had to the different Sexes, and the Lodgings accommodated accordingly. Among other Neceſſaries, as I have thought fit to appoint Story-Tellers to ſooth the Men, ſo I have allowed Tale-Bearers to indulge the Intervals of my Female Patients. But before I enter upon diſpoſing of the Main of the great Body that wants my Aſſiſtance, it is neceſſary to conſider the Humane Race abſtracted from all other Diſtinctions and Conſiderations except that of Sex. This will lead us to a nearer View of their Excellencies and Imperfections, which are to be accounted the one or the other, as they are ſuitable to the Deſign for which the Perſons ſo defective or accompliſhed came into the World.

To make this Enquiry aright, we muſt ſpeak of the Life of People of Condition, and the pro⯑portionable Applications to thoſe below them will be eaſily made, ſo as to value the whole Spe⯑cies by the ſame Rule. We will begin with the Woman, and behold her as a Virgin in her Fa⯑ther's Houſe. This State of her Life is infinitely more delightful than that of her Brother at the ſame Age. While ſhe is entertained with learn⯑ing melodious Airs at her Spinet, is led round a Room in the moſt complaiſant Manner to a Fid⯑dle, or is entertained with Applauſes of her Beauty and Perfection in the ordinary Converſa⯑tion ſhe meets with, the young Man is under the Dictates of a rigid Schoolmaſter or Inſtructor. [300] contradicted in every Word he ſpeaks, and curb⯑ed in all the Inclinations he diſcovers. Mrs. Eli⯑zabeth is the Object of Deſire and Admiration looked upon with Delight, courted with all the Powers of Eloquence and Addreſs, approached with a certain Worſhip, and defended with a cer⯑tain Loyalty. This is her Caſe as to the World: In her Domeſtick Character, ſhe is the Compa⯑nion, the Friend, and Confident of her Mother, and the Object of a Pleaſure ſomething like the Love between Angels, to her Father. Her Youth, her Beauty, her Air, are by him looked upon with an ineffable Tranſport beyond any other Joy in this Life, with as much Purity as can be met with in the next.

Her Brother William, at the ſame Years, is but in the Rudiments of thoſe Acquiſitions which muſt gain him Eſteem in the World. Hi Heart beats for Applauſe among Men, yet is he fearful of every Step towards it. If he propoſes to him⯑ſelf to make a Figure in the World, his Youth is damped with a Proſpect of Difficulties, Dangers, and Diſhonours; and an Oppoſition in all gene⯑rous Attempts, whether they regard his Love or his Ambition.

In the next Stage of Life ſhe has little elſe to do, but (what ſhe is accompliſhed for by the meer Gifts of Nature) to appear lovely and agree⯑able to her Husband, tender to her Children, and affable to her Servants: But a Man, when he en⯑ters into this Way, is but in the firſt Scene, far from the Accompliſhment of his Deſigns. He is now in all Things to act for others as well as himſelf. He is to have Induſtry and Frugality in his private Affairs, and Integrity and Addreſſes in Publick. To theſe Qualities, he muſt add a Cou⯑rage and Reſolution to ſupport his other Abilities, leſt he be interrupted in the Proſecution of his juſt Endeavours, in which the Honour and In⯑tereſt [301] of Poſterity are as much concerned as his own perſonal Welfare.

This little Sketch may in ſome Meaſure give an Idea of the different Parts which the Sexes have to act, and the advantagious as well as in⯑convenient Terms on which they are to enter upon their ſeveral Parts of Life. This may alſo be ſome Rule to us in the Examination of their Conduct. In ſhort, I ſhall take it for a Maxim, That a Woman who reſigns the Purpoſe of being pleaſing, and the Man who gives up the Thoughts of being wiſe, do equally quit their Claim to the true Cauſes of Living; and are to be allowed the Diet and Diſcipline of my charitable Structure to reduce them to Rea⯑ſon.

On the other Side, the Woman who hopes to pleaſe by Mothods which ſhould make her odious, and the Man who would be thought wiſe by a Behaviour that renders him ridiculous, are to be taken into Cuſtody for their falſe Induſtry, as Juſtly as they ought for their Negligence.

N. B. Mr. Bickerſtaff is taken extremely ill with the Tooth-Ach, and cannot proceed in this Diſ⯑courſe.

Advices from Flanders of the 30th Inſtant, N. S. ſay, That the Duke of Marlborough having Intel⯑ligence of the Enemy's paſſing the Scarp on the 29th in the Evening, and their March towards the Plains of Lens, had put the Confederate Ar⯑my in Motion, which was advancing towards the Camp on the North Side of that River be⯑tween Vitry and Henin-Lietard. The Confede⯑rates, ſince the Approach of the Enemy, have added ſeveral new Redoubts to their Camp, and drawn the Cannon out of the Lines of Circum⯑vallation in a Readineſs for the Batteries.

[302] It is not believed, notwithſtanding theſe Ap⯑pearances, that the Enemy will hazard a Battle for the Relief of Douay; the Siege of which Place is carried on with all the Succeſs that can be expected, conſidering the Difficulties they meet with occaſioned by the Inundations. On the 28th at Night we made a Lodgment on the Sa⯑liant Angle of the Glacis of the Second Counter⯑ſcarp, and our Approaches are ſo far advanced, that it is believed the Town will be obliged to ſurrender before the 8th of the next Month.

THIS Evening, after a little Eaſe from the raging Pain cauſed by ſo ſmall an Organ as an aking Tooth, under which I had behaved my ſelf ſo ill as to have broke Two Pipes and my Spectacles, I began to reflect with Admiration on thoſe Heroick Spirits, which in the Conduct of their Lives ſeem to live ſo much above the Con⯑dition of our Make, as not only under the Ago⯑nies of Pain to forbear any intemperate Word or Geſture, but alſo in their general and ordinary Behaviour to reſiſt the Impulſes of their very Blood and Conſtitution. This Watch over a Man's ſelf, and the Command of his Temper, I take to be the greateſt of Humane Perfections, and is the Effect of a ſtrong and reſolute Mind. It is not only the moſt expedient Practice for [303] carrying on our own Deſigns, but is alſo very de⯑ſervedly the moſt amiable Quality in the Sight of others. It is a winning Deference to Mankind, which creates an immediate Imitation of it ſelf wherever it appears, and prevails upon all (who have to do with a Perſon endued with it) either through Shame or Emulation. I do not know how to expreſs this Habit of Mind, except you will let me call it Equanimity. It is a Virtue, which is neceſſary at every Hour, in every Place, and in all Converſations, and is the Effect of a regular and exact Prudence. He that will look back upon all the Acquaintances he has had in his whole Life, will find, he has ſeen more Men capable of the greateſt Employments and Perfor⯑mances, than ſuch as could in the general Bent of their Carriage act otherwiſe than according to their own Complexion and Humour. But the Indulgence of our ſelves in wholly giving Way to our natural Propenſity, is ſo unjuſt and improper a Licence, that when People take it up, there is very little Difference, with Relation to their Friends and Families, whether they are good or ill-natured Men: For he that errs by being wrought upon by what we call the Sweetneſs of his Temper, is as guilty as he that offends thro' the Perverſeneſs of it.

It is not therefore to be regarded what Men are in themſelves, but what they are in their Actions. Eucrates is the beſt-natured of all Men; but that natural Softneſs has Effects quite con⯑trary to it ſelf, and for Want of due Bounds to his Benevolence, while he has a Will to be a Friend to all, he has the Power of being ſuch to none. His conſtant Inclination to pleaſe, makes him never fail of doing ſo; tho' (without being capable of Falſhood) he is a Friend only to thoſe who are preſent; for the ſame Humour which makes him the beſt Companion, renders him the worſt Correſpondent. It is a melancholy Thing [304] to conſider, that the moſt engaging Sort of Men in Converſation are frequently the moſt tyranni⯑cal in Power, and leaſt to be depended upon in Friendſhip. It is certain this is not to be imputed to their own Diſpoſition; but he that is to be led by others, has only good Luck if he is not the worſt, though in himſelf the beſt Man living. For this Reaſon, we are no more wholly to in⯑dulge our good, than our ill Diſpoſitions. I re⯑member a crafty old Cit, one Day ſpeaking of a well-natured young Fellow who ſet up with a good Stock in Lombard-ſtreet, ‘"I will, ſays he, lay no more Money in his Hands, for he never de⯑nied me any Thing."’ This was a very baſe, but with him a prudential Reaſon for breaking off Commerce: And this Acquaintance of mine car⯑ried this Way of Judging ſo far, that he has often told me, he never cared to deal with a Man he liked, for that our Affections muſt never enter into our Buſineſs.

When we look round us in this populous City, and conſider how Credit and Eſteem are lodged, you find Men have a great Share of the former, without the leaſt Portion of the latter. He who knows himſelf for a Beaſt of Prey, looks upon others in the ſame Light, and we are ſo apt to judge of others by our ſelves, that the Man who has no Mercy, is as careful as poſſible never to want it. Hence it is, that in many Inſtances Men gain Credit by the very contrary Methods by which they do Eſteem; for wary Traders think every Affection of the Mind a Key to their Caſh.

But what led me into this Diſcourſe, was my Impatience of Pain; and I have, to my great Diſgrace, ſeen an Inſtance of the contrary Car⯑riage in ſo high a Degree, that I am out of Countenance that I ever read Seneca. When I look upon the Conduct of others in ſuch Occur⯑rences, as well as behold their Equanimity in the [305] general Tenour of their Life, it very much abates the Self-Love, which is ſeldom well governed by any Sort of Men, and leaſt of all by us Au⯑thors.

The Fortitude of a Man who brings his Will to the Obedience of his Reaſon, is conſpicuous, and carries with it a Dignity in the loweſt State imaginable. Poor Martius, who now lies lan⯑guiſhing in the moſt violent Fever, diſcovers in the fainteſt Moments of his Diſtemper ſuch a Greatneſs of Mind, that a perfect Stranger who ſhould now behold him, would indeed ſee an Object of Pity, but at the ſame Time that it was lately an Object of Veneration. His gal⯑lant Spirit reſigns, but reſigns with an Air that ſpeaks a Reſolution which could yield to nothing but Fate it ſelf. This is Conqueſt in the Philo⯑ſophick Senſe; but the Empire over our ſelves is, methinks, no leſs laudable in common Life, where the whole Tenour of a Man's Carriage is in Subſervience to his own Reaſon, and Confor⯑mity both to the good Senſe and Inclination of other Men.

Ariſtaeus is in my Opinion a perfect Maſter of himſelf in all Circumſtances. He has all the Spirit that Man can have, and yet is as regular in his Behaviour as a meer Machine. He is ſen⯑ſible of every Paſſion, but ruffled by none. In Converſation, he frequently ſeems to be leſs knowing to be more obliging, and chuſes to be on a Level with others rather than oppreſs with the Superiority of his Genius. In Friendſhip, he is kind without Profeſſion. In Buſineſs, ex⯑peditious without Oſtentation. With the greateſt Softneſs and Benevolence imaginable, he is im⯑partial in Spight of all Importunity, even that of his own good Nature. He is ever clear in his Judgment; but in Complaiſance to his Com⯑pany, ſpeaks with Doubt, and never ſhows Con⯑fidence in Argument, but to ſupport the Senſe of [306] another. Were ſuch an Equality of Mind the general Endeavour of all Men, How ſweet would be the Pleaſures of Converſation? He that is loud would then underſtand, that we ought to call a Conſtable, and know, that ſpoiling good Company is the moſt heinous Way of breaking the Peace. We ſhould then be relieved from theſe Zealots in Society, who take upon them to be angry for all the Company, and quarrel with the Waiters to ſhow they have no Reſpect for any Body elſe in the Room. To be in a Rage before you, is in a Kind being angry with you. You may as well ſtand naked before Company, as to uſe ſuch Familiarities; and to be careleſs of what you ſay, is the moſt clowniſh Way of being undreſſed.

When I came Home this Evening, I found the following Letters; and becauſe I think one a very good Anſwer to the other, as well as that it is the Affair of a young Lady, it muſt be im⯑mediately diſmiſſed.

THE ingenious Mr. Penkethman; the Come⯑dian, has lately left here a Paper or Ticket, to which is affixed a ſmall Silver Medal, which is to entitle the Bearer to ſee One and twenty Plays at his Theatre for a Guinea. Greenwith is the Place where, it ſeems, he has erected h s Houſe; and his Time of Action is to be ſo contri⯑ved, that it is to fall in with going and returning with the Tide. Beſides, that the Bearer of this Ticket may carry down with him a particular Set of Company to the Play, ſtriking off for each Perſon ſo introduced one of his Twenty one Times of Admittance. In this Warrant of his, he has made me an high Compliment in a face⯑tious Diſtich, by Way of Dedication of his En⯑deavours, and deſires I would recommend them to the World. I muſt needs ſay, I have not for ſome Time ſeen a properer Choice than he has made of a Patron: Who more fit to publiſh his Work than a Noveliſt? Who to recommend it than a Cenſor? This Honour done me, has made me turn my Thoughts upon the Nature of Dedi⯑cations in general, and the Abuſe of that Cu⯑ſtom, as well by a long Practice of my Predeceſ⯑ſors, as the continued Folly of my contemporary Authors.

[309] In ancient Times, it was the Cuſtom to ad⯑dreſs their Works to ſome eminent for their Merit to Mankind, or particular Patronage of the Wri⯑ters themſelves, or Knowledge in the Matter of which they treated. Under theſe Regards, it was a memorable Honour to both Parties, and a very agreeable Record of their Commerce with each other. Theſe Applications were never ſtuf⯑fed with impertinent Praiſes, but were the native Product of their Eſteem, which was implicitly re⯑ceived, or generally known to be due to the Patron of the Week: But vain Flouriſhes came into the World, with other barbarous Embelliſhments; and the Enumeration of Titles, and great Actions, in the Patrons themſelves, or their Sires, are as foreign to the Matter in Hand as the Ornaments are in a Gothick Building. This is clapping to⯑gether Perſons which have no Manner of Alli⯑ance, and can for that Reaſon have no other Ef⯑fect than making both Parties juſtly ridiculous. What Pretence is there in Nature for me to write to a great Man, and tell him, My Lord, becauſe your Grace is a Duke, your Grace's Father before you was an Earl, his Lordſhip's Father was a Baron, and his Lordſhip's Father both a wiſe and a rich Man; I Iſaac Bickerſtaff am obliged, and could not poſſibly forbear addreſſing to you the following Treatiſe. Though this is the plain Expoſition of all I could poſſibly ſay to him with a good Conſcience, yet the ſilly Cuſtom has ſo univerſally prevailed, that my Lord Duke and I muſt neceſſarily be particular Friends from this Time forward, or elſe I have juſt Room for be⯑ing diſobliged, and may turn my Panegyrick in⯑to a Libel. But to carry this Affair ſtill more Home; were it granted that Praiſes in Dedications were proper Topicks, What is it that gives a Man Authority to commend, or what makes it a Favour to me that he does commend me? It is certain, that there is no Praiſe valuable but from [310] the Praiſe-worthy. Were it otherwiſe, Blame might be as much in the ſame Hands. Were the Good and Evil of Fame laid upon a Level among Mankind, the Judge on the Bench, and the Cri⯑minal at the Bar, would differ only in their Sta⯑tions; and if one's Word is to paſs as much as the other's, their Reputation would be much alike to the Jury. Pliny ſpeaking of the Death of Martial, expreſſes himſelf with great Gratitude to him for the Honours done him in the Writings of that Author; but he begins it with an Ac⯑count of his Character, whsch only made the Applauſe valuable. He indeed in the ſame Epi⯑ſtle ſays, It is Sign we have left off doing Things which deſerve Praiſe, when we think Commendation impertinent. This is aſſerted with a juſt Regard to the Perſons whoſe good Opinion we wiſh for; otherwiſe Reputation would be valued according to the Number of Voices a Man has for it, which are not always to be inſured on the more virtuous Side. But how⯑ever we pretend to model theſe nice Affairs, true Glory will never attend any Thing but Truth; and there is ſomething ſo peculiar in it, that the very ſelf-ſame Action done by different Men can⯑not merit the ſame Degree of Applauſe. The Roman, who was ſurprized in the Enemy's Camp before he had accompliſhed his Deſign, and thruſt his bare Arm into a flaming Pile, telling the General, There were many as determined as himſelf who (againſt Senſe of Danger) had con⯑ſpired his Death, wrought in the very Enemy an Admiration of his Fortitude, and a Diſmiſſion with Applauſe. But the condemned Slave who repreſented him in the Theatre, and conſumed his Arm in the ſame Manner, with the ſame Re⯑ſolution, did not raiſe in the Spectators a great Idea of his Virtue, but of him whom imitated in an Action no Way differing from that of the real Scaevola, but in the Motive to it.

[311] Thus true Glory is inſeparable from true Merit, and whatever you call Men, they are are no more than what they are in themſelves; but a Roman⯑tcik Senſe has crept into the Minds of the Gene⯑rality, who will ever miſtake Words and Appear⯑ances for Perſons and Things.

The Simplicity of the Ancients was as conſpi⯑cuous in the Addreſs of their Writings, as in any other Monuments they have left behind them. Caeſar and Auguſtus were much more high Words of Reſpect, when added to Occaſions fit for their Characters to appear in, than any Appellations which have ever been ſince thought of. The lat⯑ter of theſe great Men had a very pleaſant Way of dealing with Applications of this Kind. When he received Pieces of Poetry which he thought had Worth in them, he rewarded the Writer; but where he thought them empty, he generally returned the Compliment made him with ſome Verſes of his own.

This latter Method I have at preſent Occaſion to imitate. A Female Author has dedicated a Piece to me, wherein ſhe would make my Name (as ſhe has others) the Introduction of whatever is to follow in her Book; and has ſpoke ſome Panegyrical Things which I know not how to return, for Want of better Acquaintance with the Lady, and conſequently being out of a Capacity of giving her Praiſe or Blame. All therefore that is left for me, according to the foregoing Rules, is to lay the Picture of a good and evil Woman be⯑fore her Eyes, which are but meet Words if they do not concern her. Now you are to obſerve, the Way in a Dedication is to make all the reſt of the World as little like the Perſon we addreſs to as poſſible, according to the following Epiſtle:

WHEN we look into the delightful Hiſtory of the moſt ingenious Don Quixot of the Mancha, and conſider the Exerciſes and Manner of Life of that renowned Gentleman, we cannot but admire the exquiſite Genius and diſcerning Spirit of Michael Cervantes, who has not only painted his Adventurer with great Maſtery in the conſpicuous Parts of his Story, which relate to Love and Honour, but alſo intimated in his ordi⯑nary Life, Oeconomy and Furniture, the infalli⯑ble Symptoms he gave of his growing Phrenſy, before he declared himſelf a Knight-Errant. His Hall was furniſhed with old Launces, Halbards, and Morrions; his Food, Lentils; his Dreſs, amorous. He ſlept moderately, roſe early, and ſpent his Time in Hunting. When by Watchful⯑neſs and Exerciſe he was thus qualified for the Hardſhips of his intended Peregrinations, he had nothing more to do but to fall hard to ſtudy; and before he ſhould apply himſelf to the Practi⯑cal Part, get into the Methods of making Love and War by reading Books of Knighthood. As for raiſing tender Paſſion in him, Cervantes re⯑ports, That he was wonderfully delighted with a ſmooth intricate Sentence; and when they liſtened at his Study-Door, they could frequently hear him read aloud, The Reaſon of the Unreaſo⯑nableneſs, which againſt my Reaſon is wrought, doth ſo weaken my Reaſon, as with all Reaſon I do juſtly complain on your Beauty. Again, he would pauſe till he came to another charming Sentence, [313] and with the moſt pleaſing Accent imaginable be loud at a new Paragraph: The high Heavens, which, with your Divinity, do fortify you divinely with the Stars, make you Deſervereſs of the De⯑ſerts that your Greatneſs deſerves. With theſe, and other ſuch Paſſages, (ſay's my Author) the poor Gentleman grew diſtracted, and was break⯑ing his Brains Day and Night to underſtand and unravel their Senſe.

As much as the Caſe of this diſtempered Knight is received by all the Readers of his Hiſtory as the moſt incurable and ridiculous of all Phren⯑ſies, it is very certain we have Crowds among us far gone in as viſible a Madneſs as his, though they are not obſerved to be in that Condition. As great and uſeful Diſcoveries are ſometimes made by accidental and ſmall Beginnings, I came to the Knowledge of the moſt Epidemick Ill of this Sort, by falling into a Coffee-houſe where I ſaw my Friend the Upholſterer, whoſe Crack to⯑wards Politicks I have heretofore mention'd. This Touch in the Brain of the Britiſh Subject, is as certainly owing to the reading News-Papers, as that of the Spaniſh Worthy above-mention'd to the reading Works of Chivalry. My Contem⯑poraries the Noveliſts have, for the better ſpin⯑ning out Paragraphs, and working down to the End of their Columns, a moſt happy Art in Say⯑ing and Unſaying, giving Hints of Intelligence, and Interpretations of indifferent Actions, to the great Diſtur bance of the Brains of ordinary Rea⯑ders. This Way of going on in the Words, and making no Progreſs in the Senſe, is more parti⯑cularly the Excellence of my moſt ingenious and renowned Fellow-Labourer, the Poſt-Man; and it as to this Talent in him that I impute the Loſs of my Upholſterer's Intellects. That unfortunate Tradeſman has for Years paſt been the chief Ora⯑tor in ragged Aſſemblies, and the Reader in Al⯑ [...]y Coffee-houſes. He was Yeſterday ſurroun⯑ded [314] by an Audience of that Sort, among whom I ſat unobſerved through the Favour of a Cloud of Tobacco, and ſaw him with the Poſt-Man in his Hand, and all the other Papers ſafe under his Left Elbow. He was intermixing Remarks, and reading the Paris Article of May 30. which ſays, That it is given out that an Expreſs arrived this Day, with Advice, that the Armies were ſo near in the Plain of Lens, that they cannonaded each other. (Ay, ay, here we ſhall have Sport.) And that it was highly probable the next Expreſs would bring us an Account of an Engagement. (They are welcome as ſoon as they pleaſe.) The ſome others ſay, That the ſame will be put off ti [...] the 2d or 3d of June, becauſe the Mareſchal Vil⯑lars expects ſome further Reinforcements from Ger⯑many, and other Parts, before that Time. What-a-Pox does he put it off for? Does he think our Horſe is not marching up at the ſame Time? But let us ſee what he ſays further. They hope, that Monſieur Albergotti, being encouraged by the Preſence of ſo great an Army, will make an extra⯑ordinary Defence. Why then I find, Albergun is one of thoſe that love to have a great many on their Side—Nay, I'll ſay that for this Paper, he makes the moſt natural Inferences of any of them all. The Elector of Bavaria being uneaſy to be without any Command, has deſired Leave to come to Court to communicate a certain Project to his Majeſty—Whatever it be, it is ſaid, that Prince is ſuddenly expected, and then we ſhall have a more certain Account of his Project, if this [...] ⯑port has any Foundation. Nay, this Paper new impoſes upon us, he goes upon ſure Grounds; for he won't be poſitive the Elector has a Project, or that he will come, or if he does come at all; for he doubts, you ſee, whether the Report has any Foundation.

What makes this the more lamentable is, that this Way of Writing falls in with the Imagina⯑tion [315] of the cooler and duller Part of Her Maje⯑ſty's Subjects. The being kept up with one Line contradicting another, and the whole, after many Sentences of Conjecture, vaniſhing in a Doubt whether there is any Thing at all in what the Perſon has been reading of, puts an ordinary Head into a Vertigo, which his natural Dulneſs would have ſecured him from. Next to the La⯑bours of the Poſt-Man, the Upholſterer took from under his Elbow honeſt Icabod Dawks's Letter, and there, among other Speculations, the Hiſto⯑rian takes upon him to ſay, That it is diſcourſed that there will be a Battel in Flanders before the Armies ſeparate, and many will have it to be to Morrow, the great Battel of Ramelies being fought on a Whit-Sunday. A Gentleman who was a Wag in this Company laughed at the Expreſſion, and ſaid, By Mr. Dawks's Favour, I warrant ye, [...]f we meet them on Whit-Sunday or M [...]nday, we ſhall not ſtand upon the Day with them, whether it be before or after the Holidays. An Admirer of this Gentleman ſtood up, and told a Neighbour at a diſtant Table the Conceit, at which indeed we were all very merry. Theſe Reflections in the Writers of the Tranſactions of the Times, ſeize the Noddles of ſuch as were [...]ot born to have Thoughts of their own, and [...]onſequently lay a Weight upon every Thing which they read in Print. But Mr. Dawks con⯑ [...]luded this Paper with a courteous Sentence, which was very well taken and applauded by [...]he whole Company. We wiſh, ſays he, all our [...]uſtomers a merry Whitſuntide, and many of [...]hem. Honeſt Icabod is as extraordinary a Man [...]s any of our Fraternity, and as particular. His [...]tyle is a Dialect between the Familiarity of Talk⯑ [...]g and Writing, and his Letter ſuch as you [...]annot diſtinguiſh whether Print or Manuſcript, [...]hich gives us a Refreſhment of the Idea from [...]hat has been told us from the Preſs by others. [316] This wiſhing a good Tide had its Effect upon us [...] and he was commended for his Salutation, a [...] ſhowing as well the Capacity of a Bell-man a [...] an Hiſtorian. My diſtempered old Acquaintanc [...] read in the next Place the Account of the Affairs abroad in the Courant; but the Matter was told ſo diſtinctly, that theſe Wanderers thought there was no News in it; this Paper differing from the reſt as an Hiſtory from a Romance. The Tauto⯑logy, the Contradictions, the Doubts, and Wants of Confirmations, are what keep up imaginary Entertainments in empty Heads, and produce Neglect of their own Affairs, Poverty, and Bank⯑rupcy, in many of the Shop-Stateſmen; but turn the Imaginations of thoſe of a little higher Orb into Deliriums of Diſſatisfaction, which is ſeen in a continual Fret upon all that touches their Brains, but more particularly upon any Ad⯑vantage obtained by their Country, where they are conſidered as Lunaticks, and therefore tole⯑rated in their Ravings.

What I am now warning the People of is, That the News-Papers of this Iſland are as per⯑nicious to weak Heads in England as ever Books of Chivalry to Spain; and therefore ſhall do all that in me lies, with the utmoſt Care and Vigi⯑lance imaginable, to prevent theſe growing E [...] A framing Inſtance of this Malady appeared in my old Acquaintance at this Time, who, after he had done reading all his Papers, ended with a Thoughtful Air. If we ſhould have a Peace, we ſhould then know for certain whether it was the King of Sweden that lately came to Dunkirk I whiſpered him, and deſired him to ſtep aſide a little with me. When I had Opportunity, I de⯑ceived him into a Coach, in order for his mo [...] eaſy Conveyance to Moorfields. The Man [...] very quietly with me; and by that Time he had brought the Swede from the Defeat by the [...] to the Boriſthenes, we were paſſing by Will's Cof⯑fee [317] houſe, where the Man of the Houſe beckon'd to us. We made a full Stop, and could hear from above a very loud Voice ſwearing, with ſome Expreſſions towards Treaſon, That the Sub⯑ject in France was as free as in England. His Di⯑ſtemper would not let him reflect, that his own Diſcourſe was an Argument of the contrary. They told him, One would ſpeak with him be⯑low. He came immediately to our Coach-Side. I whiſpered him, That I had an Order to carry him to the Baſtile. He immediately obeyed with great Reſignation: For to this Sort of Lunatick, whoſe Brain is touched for the French, the Name of a Gaol in that Kingdom has a more agreeable Sound than that of a Paternal Seat in this their own Country. It happen'd a little unluckily bringing theſe Lunaticks together, for they im⯑mediately fell into a Debate concerning the Great⯑neſs of their reſpective Monarchs; one for the King of Sweden, the other for the Grand Mo⯑narch of France. This Gentleman from Will's is now next Door to the Upholſterer, ſafe in his Apartment in my Bedlam, with proper Medica⯑ments, and the Mercure Gallant to ſooth his Ima⯑gination that he is actually in France. If there⯑fore he ſhould eſcape to Covent-Garden again, all Perſons are deſired to lay hold of him, and de⯑liver him to Mr. Morphew, my Overſeer. At the ſame Time, I deſire all true Subjects to forbear Diſcourſe with him, any otherwiſe than when he begins to fight a Battle for France, to ſay, Sir, I hope to ſee you in England.

IN this parched Seaſon, next to the Pleaſure [...] going into the Country, is that of heari [...] from it, and partaking the Joys of it in Deſcri [...] ⯑tion, as in the following Letter:

I Have received a Letter which accuſes me of Partiality in the Adminiſtration of the Cenſorſhip, and ſays, That I have been very free with the lower Part of Mankind, but ex⯑tremely cautious in Repreſentations of Matters which concern Men of Condition. This Cor⯑reſpondent takes upon him alſo to ſay, the Up⯑holſterer was not undone by turning Politician, but became Bankrupt by truſting his Goods to Perſons of Quality; and demands of me, that I ſhould do Juſtice upon ſuch as brought Poverty and Diſtreſs upon the World below them, while [325] they themſelves were ſunk in Pleaſures and Luxury, ſupported at the Expence of thoſe very Perſons whom they treated with a Negligence, as if they did not know whether they dealt with them or not. This is a very heavy Accuſation, both of me and ſuch as the Man aggrieved ac⯑cuſes me of tolerating. For this Reaſon, I re⯑ſolved to take this Matter into Conſideration, and upon very little Meditation could call to my Memory many Inſtances which made this Com⯑plaint far from being groundleſs. The Root of this Evil does not always proceed from Injuſtice in the Men of Figure, but often from a falſe Grandeur which they take upon them in being unacquainted with their own Buſineſs, not con⯑ſidering how mean a Part they act when their Names and Characters are ſubjected to the little Arts of their Servants and Dependants. The Overſeers of the Poor are a People who have no great Reputation for the Diſcharge of their Truſt, but are much leſs ſcandalous than the Overſeers of the Rich. Ask a young Fellow of a great Eſtate, Who was that odd Fellow ſpoke to him in a publick Place? He anſwers, One that does any Buſineſs. It is, with many, a natural Conſe⯑quence of being a Man of Fortune, that they are not to underſtand the Diſpoſal of it; and they long to come to their Eſtates, only to put them⯑ſelves under new Guardianſhip. Nay, I have known a young Fellow who was regularly bred an Attorney, and was a very expert one till he had an Eſtate fallen to him. The Moment that happened, he who could before prove the next Land he caſt his Eye upon his own, and was ſo ſharp, that a Man at firſt Sight would give him a ſmall Sum for a general Receipt, whether he owed him any Thing or not: Such a one, I ſay, have I ſeen, upon coming to an Eſtate, forget all [...] Diffidence of Mankind, and become the moſt manageable Thing breathing. He immediately [326] wanted a ſtirring Man to take upon him his A [...] ⯑fairs, to receive and pay, and do every Thi [...] which he himſelf was now too fine a Gentlema [...] to underſtand. It is pleaſant to conſider, Th [...] he who would have got an Eſtate had he n [...] come to one, will certainly ſtarve becauſe o [...] fell to him: But ſuch Contradictions are we [...] our ſelves, and any Change of Life is inſupporta⯑ble to ſome Natures.

It is a miſtaken Senſe of Superiority, to believ [...] a Figure or Equipage gives Men Precedence [...] their Neighbours. Nothing can create Reſpe [...] from Mankind, but laying Obligations upo [...] them; and it may very reaſonably be conclude [...] that if it were put into a due Ballance, accordin [...] to the true State of the Account, many who b [...] ⯑lieve themſelves in Poſſeſſion of a large Share [...] Dignity in the World, muſt give Place to the [...] Inferiors. The greateſt of all Diſtinctions i [...] Civil Life is that of Debtor and Creditor, an [...] there needs no great Progreſs in Logick to kno [...] which, in that Caſe, is the advantagious Sid [...] He who can ſay to another, Pray Maſter, o [...] Pray my Lord, give me my own, can as juſtl [...] tell him, It is a Phantaſtical Diſtinction you tak [...] upon you, to pretend to paſs upon the World fo [...] my Maſter or Lord, when at the ſame Tim [...] that I wear your Livery, you owe me Wages [...] or, while I wait at your Door, you are aſhame [...] to ſee me till you have paid my Bill.

The good old Way among the Gentry of Eng⯑land to maintain their Preeminence over the lower Rank, was by their Bounty, Munificence [...] and Hoſpitality; and it is a very unhappy Change [...] if at preſent, by themſelves or their Agents, [...] Luxury of the Gentry is ſupported by the Cre⯑dit of the Trader. This is what my Correſpon⯑dent pretends to prove out of his own Books, and thoſe of his whole Neighbourhood. He has the Confidence to ſay, That there is a Mug-Houſe [327] hear Long-Acre, where you may every Evening hear an exact Account of Diſtreſſes of this Kind. One complains, That ſuch a Lady's Finery is the Occaſion that his own Wife and Daughter appear ſo long in the ſame Gown: Ano⯑ther, That all the Furniture of her Viſiting A⯑partment are no more her's, than the Scenery of a Play are the proper Goods of the Actreſs. Nay, at the lower End of the ſame Table, you may hear a Butcher and Poulterer ſay, That at their proper Charge, all that Family has been maintained ſince they laſt came to Town:

The free Manner in which People of Faſhion are diſcourſed on at ſuch Meetings, is but a juſt Reproach for their Failures in this Kind; but the melancholy Relations of the great Neceſſities Tradeſmen are driven to, who ſupport their Credit in Spight of the faithleſs Promiſes which are made them, and the Abatement which they ſuffer when paid, by the Extortion of Upper Ser⯑vants, is what would ſtop the moſt thoughtleſs Man in the Career of his Pleaſures, if rightly re⯑preſented to him.

If this Matter be not very ſpeedily amended, I ſhall think fit to print exact Liſts of all Per⯑ſons who are not at their own Diſpoſal, though above the Age of Twenty one; and as the Tra⯑der is made Bankrupt for Abſence from his A⯑bode, ſo ſhall the Gentleman for being at Home, [...]f, when Mr. Morphew calls, he cannot give him an exact Account of what paſſes in his own Fa⯑mily. After this fair Warning, no one ought to think himſelf hardly dealt with, if I take upon me to pronounce him no longer Maſter of his Eſtate, Wife, or Family, than he continues to [...]mprove, cheriſh, and maintain them upon the [...]aſis of his own Property, without Incurſions [...]pon his Neighbour in any of theſe Particu⯑ [...].

[328] According to that excellent Philoſopher Epict [...] ⯑tus, we are all but acting Parts in a Play; and [...] is not a Diſtinction in it ſelf to be high or lo [...] but to become the Parts we are to perform. [...] am by my Office Prompter on this Occaſion, a [...] ſhall give thoſe who are a little out in their Par [...] ſuch ſoft Hints as may help them to procee [...] without letting it be known to the Audien [...] they were out: But if they run quite out [...] Character, they muſt be called off the Stag [...] and receive Parts more ſuitable to their Geniu [...] Servile Complaiſance ſhall degrade a Man fro [...] his Honour and Quality, and Haughtineſs be ye [...] more debaſed. Fortune ſhall no longer appro⯑priate Diſtinctions, but Nature direct us in th [...] Diſpoſition both of Reſpect and Diſcountenance [...] As there are Tempers made for Command, and others for Obedience; ſo there are Men born for acquiring Poſſeſſions, and others incapable of be⯑ing other than meer Lodgers in the Houſes of their Anceſtors, and have it not in their very Compoſition to be Proprietors of any Thing. Theſe Men are moved only by the meer Effects of Impulſe: Their Good-Will and Diſeſteem are to be regarded equally, for neither is the Effect of their Judgment. This looſe Temper is that which makes a Man, what Salluſt ſo well remarks to happen frequently in the ſame Perſon, to be covetous of what is another's, and profuſe of what is his own. This Sort of Men is uſually amiable to ordinary Eyes; but in the Sight of Reaſon, nothing is laudable but what is guided by Reaſon. The covetous Prodigal is of all o⯑thers the worſt Man in Society: If he would but take Time to look into himſelf, he would find his Soul all over gaſhed with broken Vows, and Promiſes, and his Retroſpect on his Action [...] would not conſiſt of Reflections upon thoſe good Reſolutions after mature Thought, which are the true Life of a reaſonable Creature, but the [329] nauſeous Memory of imperfect Pleaſures, idle Dreams, and occaſional Amuſements. To fol⯑low ſuch diſſatisfying Purſuits, is it poſſible to ſuffer the Ignominy of being unjuſt? I remem⯑ber in Tully's Epiſtle, in the Recommendation of a Man to an Affair which had no Manner of Re⯑lation to Money, it is ſaid, You may truſt him, for he is a frugal Man. It is certain, he who has not a Regard to ſtrict Juſtice in the Com⯑merce of Life, can be capable of no good Action in any other Kind; but he who lives below his Income, lays up every Moment of Life Ar⯑mour againſt a baſe World, that will cover all his Frailties while he is ſo fortified, and exaggerate them when he is naked and de⯑fenceleſs.

THere are thoſe among Mankind, who can enjoy no Reliſh of their Being, except the World is made acquainted with all that relates [330] to them, and think every Thing loſt that paſſes un⯑obſerved; but others find a ſolid Delight in ſtealing by the Crowd, and modelling their Life after ſuch a Manner, as is as much above the Approbation as the Practice of the Vulgar. Life being too ſhort to give Inſtances great enough of true Friendſhip or Good-Will, ſome Sages have thought it pious to preſerve a certain Reverence for the Manes of their deceaſed Friends, and have withdrawn themſelves from the reſt of the World at certain Seaſons, to commemorate in their own Thoughts ſuch of their Acquaintance who have gone before them out of this Life: And indeed, when we are advanced in Years, there is not a more pleaſing Entertainment, than to recollect in a gloomy Moment the many we have parted with that have been dear and agree⯑able to us, and to caſt a melancholy Thought or Two after thoſe with whom, perhaps, we have indulged our ſelves in whole Nights of Mirth and Jollity. With ſuch Inclinations in my Heart I went to my Cloſet yeſterday in the Evening and reſolved to be ſorrowful; upon which Occa⯑ſion, I could not but look with Diſdain upon my ſelf, that though all the Reaſons which I had to lament the Loſs of many of my Friends are now as forcible as at the Moment of their Departure, yet did not my Heart ſwell with the ſame Sor⯑row which I felt at that Time; but I could, without Tears, reflect upon many pleaſing Ad⯑ventures I have had with ſome who have long been blended with common Earth. Though it is by the Benefit of Nature that Length of Time thus blots out the Violence of Afflictions; yet with Tempers too much given to Pleaſure, it is almoſt neceſſary to revive the old Places of Grief in our Memory, and ponder Step by Step on paſt Life, to lead the Mind into that Sobriety of Thought which poiſes the Heart, and makes it beat with due Time, without being quickened [331] with Deſire, or retarded with Deſpair, from its proper and equal Motion. When we wind up a Clock that is out of Order, to make it go well for the future, we do not immediately ſet the Hand to the preſent Inſtant, but we make it ſtrike the Round of all its Hours, before it can recover the Regularity of its Time. Such, thought I, ſhall be my Method this Evening; and ſince it is that Day of the Year which I dedicate to the Memory of ſuch in another Life as I much delighted in when living, an Hour or Two ſhall be ſacred to Sorrow and their Memory, while I run over all the melancholy Circumſtances of this Kind which have occurred to me in my whole Life.

The firſt Senſe of Sorrow I ever knew was upon the Death of my Father, at which Time I was not quite Five Years of Age; but was rather amazed at what all the Houſe meant, than poſ⯑ſeſſed with a real Underſtanding why no Body was willing to play with me. I remember I went into the Room where his Body lay, and my Mo⯑ther ſate weeping alone by it. I had my Battle⯑dore in my Hand, and fell a beating the Coffin, and calling Papa; for I know not how I had ſome ſlight Idea that he was locked up there. My Mother catched me in her Arms, and tranſ⯑ported beyond all Patience of the ſilent Grief ſhe was before in, ſhe almoſt ſmothered me in her Embrace, and told me in a Flood of Tears, Papa could not hear me, and would play with me no more, for they were going to put him un⯑der Ground, whence he could never come to us again. She was a very beautiful Woman, of a noble Spirit, and there was a Dignity in her Grief amidſt all the Wildneſs of her Tranſport, which, methought, ſtruck me with an Inſtinct of Sorrow, which, before I was ſenſible of what it was to grieve, ſeized my very Soul, and has made Pity the Weakneſs of my Heart ever ſince. The Mind in Infancy is, methinks, like the Body [332] in Embrio, and receives Impreſſions ſo forcible, that they are as hard to be removed by Reaſon, as any Mark with which a Child is born is to be taken away by any future Application. Hence it is, that Good-Nature in me is no Merit; but having been ſo frequently over-whelmed with her Tears before I knew the Cauſe of any Af⯑fliction, or could draw Defences from my own Judgment, I imbibed Commiſeration, Remorſe, and an unmanly Gentleneſs of Mind, which has ſince inſnared me into Ten Thouſand Calamities, and from whence I can reap no Advantage, ex⯑cept it be, that in ſuch an Humour as I am now in, I can the better indulge my ſelf, in the Soft⯑neſſes of Humanity, and enjoy that ſweet An⯑xiety which ariſes from the Memory of paſt Af⯑flictions.

We that are very old, are better able to re⯑member Things which befel us in our diſtant Youth, than the Paſſages of later Days. For this Reaſon it is, that the Companions of my ſtrong and vigorous Years preſent themſelves more im⯑mediately to me in this Office of Sorrow. Un⯑timely or unhappy Deaths are what we are moſt apt to lament, ſo little are we able to make it in⯑different when a Thing happens, though we know it muſt happen. Thus we groan under Life, and bewail thoſe who are relieved from it. Every Object that returns to our Imagination raiſes different Paſſions, according to the Circum⯑ſtance of their Departure. Who can have lived in an Army, and in a ſerious Hour reflect upon the many gay and agreeable Men that might long have flouriſhed in the Arts of Peace, and not join with the Imprecations of the Father⯑leſs and Widow on the Tyrant to whoſe Ambi⯑tion they fell Sacrifices? But gallant Men, who are cut off by the Sword, move rather our Vene⯑ration than our Pity, and we gather Relief enough from their own Contempt of Death, to [333] make it no Evil, which was approached with ſo much Chearfulneſs, and attended with ſo much Honour. But when we turn our Thoughts from the great Parts of Life on ſuch Occaſions, and inſtead of lamenting thoſe who ſtood ready to give Death to thoſe from whom they had the Fortune to receive it; I ſay, when we let our Thoughts wander from ſuch noble Objects, and conſider the Havock which is made among the Tender and the Innocent, Pity enters with an unmixed Softneſs, and poſſeſſes all our Souls at once.

Here (were there Words to expreſs ſuch Senti⯑ments with proper Tenderneſs) I ſhould record the Beauty, Innocence, and untimely Death, of the firſt Object my Eyes ever beheld with Love. The beauteous Virgin! How ignorantly did ſhe charm, how careleſly excel? Oh Death! Thou haſt Right to the Bold, to the Ambitious, to the High, and to the Haughty; but why this Cruel⯑ty to the Humble, to the Meek, to the Un⯑diſcerning, to the Thoughtleſs? Nor Age, nor Buſineſs, nor Diſtreſs, can eraſe the dear Image from my Imagination. In the ſame Week, I ſaw her dreſſed for a Ball, and in a Shrowd. How ill did the Habit of Death become the Prerty Trifler? I ſtill behold the ſmiling Earth—A large Train of Diſaſters were coming on to my Memory, when my Servant knocked at my Cloſer Door, and interrupted me with a Letter, attended with a Hamper of Wine, of the ſame Sort with that which is to be put to Sale on Thurſday next at Garraway's Coffee-houſe. Upon the Receipt of it, I ſent for Three of my Friends. We are ſo intimate, that we can be Company in whatever State of Mind we meet, and can enter⯑tain each other without expecting always to re⯑joice. The Wine we found to be generous and warming, but with ſuch an Heat as moved us rather to be chearful than frolickſome. It re⯑vived [334] the Spirits without firing the Blood. We commended it till Two of the Clock this Morn⯑ing, and having to Day met a little before Din⯑ner, we found, that though we drank Two Bottles a Man, we had much more Reaſon to recollect than forget what had paſſed the Night before.

THE Town grows ſo very empty, that the greater Number of my gay Character are fled out of my Sight into the Country. My Beaus are now Shepherds, and my Belles Wood Nymphs. They are lolling over Rivulets, and covered with Shades, while we who remain in Town hurry through the Duſt about Imperti⯑nencies, without knowing the Happineſs of Lei⯑ſure and Retirement. To add to this Calamity even the Actors are going to deſert us for a Sea⯑ſon, and we ſhall not ſhortly have ſo much as a Landskip or Froſt-Scene to refreſh our ſelve within the Midſt of our Fatigues. This may not perhaps be ſo ſenſible a Loſs to any other as to me; for I confeſs it is one of my greateſt De⯑lights to ſit unobſerved and unknown in the Gal⯑lery, and entertain my ſelf either with what is perſonated on the Stage or obſerve what Ap⯑pearances preſent themſelves in the Audience. If there were no other good Conſequences in a Playhouſe, than that ſo many Perſons of diffe⯑rent [335] Ranks and Conditions are placed there in [...]heir moſt pleaſing Aſpects, that Proſpect only would be very far from being below the Plea⯑ſures of a wiſe Man. There is not one Perſon you can ſee, in whom, if you look with an In⯑clination to be pleaſed, you may not behold ſome⯑ [...]hing worthy or agreeable. Our Thoughts are [...]n our Features; and the Viſage of theſe in whom Love, Rage, Anger, Jealouſy or Envy, have their frequent Manſions, carries the Traces of thoſe Paſſions wherever the Amorous, the Cholerick, the Jealous, or the Envious, are plea⯑ed to make their Appearance. However, the Aſ⯑ſembly at a Play is uſually made up of ſuch as have a Senſe of ſome Elegance in Pleaſure, by which Means the Audience is generally compoſed of thoſe who have gentle Affections, or at leaſt of ſuch as at that Time are in the beſt Humour you can ever find them. This has inſenſibly a good Effect upon our Spirits; and the Muſical Airs which are play'd to us, put the whole Com⯑pany into a Participation of the ſame Pleaſure, and by Conſequence for that Time equal in Hu⯑nour, in Fortune, and in Quality. Thus far we gain only by coming into an Audience; but if we find added to this, the Beauties of proper Action, the Force of Eloquence, and the Gaiety of well-placed Lights and Scenes, it is being happy, and ſeeing others happy for Two Hours; [...] Duration of Bliſs not at all to be ſlighted by [...] ſhort-lived a Creature as Man. Why then [...]hould not the Duty of the Player be had in much more Eſteem than it is at preſent? If the Merit of a Performance be to be valued according [...]o the Talents which are neceſſary to it, the Qualifications of a Player ſhould raiſe him much [...]bove the Arts and Ways of Life which we call Mercenary or Mechanick. When we look round [...] full Houſe, and behold ſo few that can (though [...]ey ſet themſelves out to Show as much as the [336] Perſons on the Stage do) come up to what the would appear even in dumb Show, How much does the Actor deſerve our Approbation, who adds to the Advantage of Looks and Motions the Tone of Voice, the Dignity, the Humili⯑ry, the Sorrow, the Triumph ſuitable to the Character he perſonates?

It may poſſibly be imagined by ſevere Men, that I am too frequent in the Mention of the Theatrical Repreſentations; But who is not ex⯑ceſſive in the Diſcourſe of what he extremely likes? Eugenio can lead you to a Gallery of fine Pictures, which Collection he is always increa⯑ſing: Craſſus through Woods and Forreſts, to which he deſigns to add the neighbouring Coun⯑ties. Theſe are great and noble Inſtances of their Magnificence. The Players are my Pi⯑ctures, and their Scenes my Territories. By com⯑municating the Pleaſure I take in them, it may in ſome Meaſure add to Men's Gratifications this Way, as viewing the Choice and Wealth of En⯑genio and Craſſus augments the Enjoyments of thoſe whom they entertain, with a Proſpect of ſuch Poſſeſſions as would not otherwiſe fall with⯑in the Reach of their Fortunes.

It is a very good Office one Man does another when he tells him the Manner of his being plea⯑ſed; and I have often thought, that a Com⯑ment upon the Capacities of the Players would very much improve the Delight that Way, and impart it to thoſe who otherwiſe have no Senſe of it.

The Firſt of the preſent Stage are Wilks and Cibber, perfect Actors in their different Kinds. Wilks has a ſingular Talent in repreſenting the Graces of Nature, Cibber the Deformity in th [...] Affectation of them. Were I a Writer of Plays [...] I ſhould never employ either of them in Pai [...] which had not their Bent this Way. This [...] ſeen in the immitable Strain and Ruin of go [...] [337] Humour which is kept up in the Chara⯑cter of Wildair, and in the nice and delicate Abuſe of Underſtanding in that of Sir Novel⯑ty. Cibber, in another Light, hits exquiſitely the flat Civility of an affected Gentleman-Uſher, and Wilks the eaſy Frankneſs of a Gen⯑tleman.

If you would obſerve the Force of the ſame Capacities in higher Life, Can any Thing be more ingenuous, than the Behaviour of Prince Harry when his Father checks him? Any Thing more exaſperating, than that of Richard, when he inſults his Superiors? To beſeech gracefully, to approach reſpectfully, to pity, to mourn, to love, are the Places wherein Wilks may be made to ſhine with the utmoſt Beauty: To rally plea⯑ſantly, to ſcorn artfully, to flatter, to ridicule, and to neglect, are what Cibber would perform with no leſs Excellence.

When Actors are conſidered with a View to [...]heir Talents, it is not only the Pleaſure of that Hour of Action which the Spectators gain from [...]heir Performance, but the Oppoſition of Right [...]nd Wrong on the Stage would have its Force [...] the Aſſiſtance of our Judgments on other Oc⯑ [...]aſions. I have at preſent under my Tutelage a [...]oung Poet, who, I deſign, ſhall entertain the Town the enſuing Winter. And as he does me [...]he Honour to let me ſee his Comedy as he writes it, I ſhall endeavour to make the Parts fit [...]he Genio's of the ſeveral Actors, as exactly as [...]heir Habits can their Bodies: And becauſe the Two I have mentioned are to perform the prin⯑ [...]ipal Parts, I have prevailed with the Houſe to [...]t the Careleſs Husband be acted on Tueſday [...]ext, that my young Author may have a View [...]f a Play which is acted to Perfection, both [...] them and all concerned in it, as being born [...]ithin the Walls of the Theatre, and written [...]ith an exact Knowledge of the Abilities of the [338] Performers. Mr. Wilks will do his beſt in this Play, becauſe it is for his own Benefit; and Mr. Cib⯑ber, becauſe he writ it. Beſides which, all the great Beauties we have left in Town, or with⯑in Call of it, will be preſent, becauſe it is the laſt Play this Seaſon. This Opportunity will, I hope, inflame my Pupil with ſuch gene⯑rous Notions from ſeeing this fair Aſſembly as will be then preſent, that his Play may be compoſed of Sentiments and Characters proper to be preſented to ſuch an Audience. His Dra⯑ma at preſent has only the Out-Lines drawn. There are, I find, to be in it all the Reve⯑rend Offices of Life, ſuch as Regard to Parents, Husbands, and honourable Lovers, preſerved with the utmoſt Care; and at the ſame Time that Agreeableneſs of Behaviour, with the In⯑termixture of pleaſing Paſſions as ariſe from Innocence and Virtue, interſperſed in ſuch a Manner, as that to be charming and agreea⯑ble ſhall appear the natural Conſequence of be⯑ing virtuous. This great End is one of thoſe i propoſe to do in my Cenſorſhip; but if I [...]d a thin Houſe, on an Occaſion when ſuch a Work is to be promoted, my Pupil ſhall return to his Commons at Oxford, and Sheer-Lane and the Theatres be no longer Corre⯑ſpondents.

WHEN Men look into their own Boſoms, and conſider the generous Seeds which are there planted, that might, if rightly cultiva⯑ted, ennoble their Lives, and make their Virtue venerable to Futurity; How can they, without Tears, reflect on the univerſal Degeneracy from that publick Spirit, which ought to be the firſt and principal Motive of all their Actions? In the Graecian and Roman Nations, they were wiſe enough to keep up this great Incentive, and it was impoſſible to be in the Faſhion without be⯑ing a Patriot. All Gallantry had its firſt Source from hence; and to want a Warmth for the Pu⯑blick Welfare, was a Defect ſo ſcandalous, that he who was guilty of it had no Pretence to Ho⯑nour or Manhood. What makes the Depravity among us in this Behalf the more vexatious and irkſome to reflect upon, is, that the Contempt of Life is carried as far amongſt us, as it could be in thoſe memorable People; and we want only a proper Application of the Qualities which are frequent among us to be as worthy as they. There is hardly a Man to be found who will not light upon any Occaſion which he thinks may taint his own Honour. Were this Motive as ſtrong in every Thing that regards the Publick, as it is in this our private Caſe, no Man would [340] paſs his Life away without having diſtinguiſhed himſelf by ſome gallant Inſtance of his Zeal to⯑wards it in the reſpective Incidents of his Life and Profeſſion. But it is ſo far otherwiſe, that there cannot at preſent be a more ridiculous Ani⯑mal than one who ſeems to regard the Good of others. He in Civil Life whoſe Thoughts turn upon Schemes which may be of general Benefit, without further Reflection, is call'd a Projector; and the Man whoſe Mind ſeems intent upon glo⯑rious Atchievements, a Knight Errant. The Ri⯑dicule among us runs ſtrong againſt laudable Actions. Nay, in the ordinary Courſe of Things and the common Regards of Life, Negligence of the Publick is an Epidemick Vice. The Brewer in his Exciſe, the Merchant in his Cu⯑ſtoms, and for ought we know the Soldier in his Muſter-Rolls, think never the worſe of them⯑ſelves for being guilty of their reſpective Fraud towards the Publick. This Evil is come to ſuch a phantaſtical Height, that he is a Man of a pub⯑lick Spirit, and heroically affected to his Coun⯑try, who can go ſo far as even to turn Uſure with all he has in her Funds. There is not a Ci⯑tizen in whoſe Imagination ſuch a one does no [...] appear in the ſame Light of Glory, as Codr [...] Scaevola, or any other great Name in Old Rom [...] Were it not for the Heroes of ſo much per Cen [...] as have Regard enough for themſelves and the [...] Nation to trade with her with their Wealth, th [...] very Notion of publick Love would long e' [...] now have vaniſhed from among us. But ho [...] ever general Cuſtom may hurry us away in th [...] Stream of a common Error, there is no Evil, [...] Crime, ſo great as that of being cold in Ma [...] ⯑ters which relate to the common Good. This [...] in nothing more conſpicuous than in a certa [...] Willingneſs to receive any Thing that tends [...] the Diminution of ſuch as have been conſpicuo [...] Inſtruments in our Service. Such Inclinatio [...] [341] proceed from the moſt low and vile Corruption of which the Soul of Man is capable. This ef⯑faces not only the Practice, but the very Appro⯑bation of Honour and Virtue; and has had ſuch an Effect, that to ſpeak freely, the very Senſe of Publick Good has no longer a Part even in our Converſations. Can then the moſt generous Mo⯑tive of Life, the Good of others, be ſo eaſily baniſh'd the Breaſt of Man? Is it poſſible to draw all our Paſſions inward? Shall the boiling Heat of Youth be ſunk in Pleaſures, the Ambition of Manhood in ſelfiſh Intrigues? Shall all that is glorious, all that is worth the Purſuit of great Minds, be ſo eaſily rooted out? When the uni⯑verſal Bent of a People ſeems diverted from the Senſe of their common Good and common Glory, it looks like a Fatality, and Criſis of impending Misfortune.

The generous Nations we juſt now mentioned underſtood this ſo very well, that there was hard⯑ly an Oration ever made which did not turn upon this general Senſe, That the Love of their Country was the firſt and moſt eſſential Quality in an honeſt Mind. Demoſthenes, in a Cauſe wherein his Fame, Reputation and Fortune, were embarked, puts his All upon this Iſſue; Let the Athenians, ſays he, be benevolent to me, as they think I have been zealons for them. This great and diſcerning Orator knew there was no⯑thing elſe in Nature could bear him up againſt his Adverſaries, but this one Quality of having ſhown himſelf willing or able to ſerve his Coun⯑try. This certainly is the Teſt of Merit; and the firſt Foundation for deſerving Good Will, is having it your ſelf. The Adverſary of this Ora⯑tor at that Time was Aeſchines, a Man of wily Arts and Skill in the World, who could, as Oc⯑caſion ſerved, fall in with a National Start of Paſſion, or Sullenneſs of Humour, (which a whole Nation is ſometimes taken with as well as a pri⯑vate [342] Man) and by that Means divert them from their common Senſe, into an Averſion for re⯑ceiving any Thing in its true Light. But when Demoſthenes had awaked his Audience with tha [...] one Hint of judging by the general Tenor of hi [...] Life towards them, his Services bore down hi [...] Opponent before him, who fled to the Covert o [...] his mean Arts till ſome more favourable Occa⯑ſion ſhould offer, againſt the ſuperior Merit o [...] Demoſthenes.

It were to be wiſhed, that Love of their Coun⯑try were the firſt Principle of Action in Men o [...] Buſineſs, even for their own Sakes; for whe [...] the World begins to examine into their Conduct the Generality, who have no Share in, or Hope [...] of any Part in Power or Riches, but what is th [...] Effect of their own Labour or Property, wil [...] judge of them by no other Method, than that o [...] how profitable their Adminiſtration has been [...] the Whole. They who are out of the Influenc [...] of Men's Fortune or Favour, will let them ſtan [...] or fall by this one only Rule; and Men who ca [...] bear being try'd by it, are always Popular i [...] their Fall: Thoſe who cannot ſuffer ſuch a Scru⯑tiny, are contemptible in their Advancement.

But I am here running into Shreds of Maxim [...] from reading Tacitus this Morning, which ha [...] driven me from my Recommendation of public [...] Spirit, which was the intended Purpoſe of th [...] Lucubration. There is not a more glorious In⯑ſtance of it, than in the Character of Regulu [...] This ſame Regulus was taken Priſoner by th [...] Carthaginians, and was ſent by them to Rom [...] in order to demand ſome Punick Noblemen wh [...] were Priſoners in Exchange for himſelf, and wa [...] bound by an Oath that he would return to Car⯑thage if he failed in his Commiſſion. He pro⯑poſes this to the Senate, who were in Suſpen [...] upon it; which Regulus obſerving, (without h [...] ⯑ving the leaſt Notion of putting the Care of h [...] [343] own Life in Competition with the publick Good) deſired them to conſider that he was old, and al⯑moſt uſeleſs; that thoſe demanded in Exchange were Men of daring Tempers, and great Merit in Military Affairs, and wondered they would make any Doubt of permitting him to go back to the ſhort Tortures prepared for him at Car⯑thage, where he ſhould have the Advantage of ending a long Life both gloriouſly and uſefully. This generous Advice was conſented to, and he took his Leave of his Country and his weeping Friends to go to certain Death, with that chear⯑ful Compoſure, as a Man, after the Fatigue of Buſineſs in a Court or a City, retires to the next Village for the Air.

THere are certain Occaſions of Life which give propitious Omens of the future good Conduct of it, as well as others which explain our preſent inward State, according to our Beha⯑viour in them. Of the latter Sort are Funerals; of the former, Weddings. The Manner of our Carriage when we loſe a Friend, ſhows very much our Temper, in the Humility of our Words and Actions, and a general Senſe of our deſtitute Condition, which runs through all our Deport⯑ment. This gives a ſolemn Teſtimony of the ge⯑nerous Affection we bore our Friends, when we [344] ſeem to diſreliſh every Thing now we can no more enjoy them, or ſee them partake in our En⯑joyments. It is very proper and humane to put our ſelves as it were in their Livery after their Deceaſe, and wear a Habit unſuitable to Proſperity, while thoſe we loved and honoured are mouldring in the Grave. As this is laudable on the ſorrowful Side; ſo on the other, Incidents of Succeſs may no leſs juſtly be repreſented and acknowledged in our outward Figure and Carriage. Of all ſuch Occaſions, that great Change of a Single Life into Marriage is the moſt important, as it is the Source of all Relations, and from whence all other Friendſhip and Commerce do principally ariſe. The general Intent of both Sexes is to diſ⯑poſe of themſelves happily and honourably in this State; and as all the good Qualities we have are exerted to make our Way into it, ſo the beſt Ap⯑pearance, with Regard to their Minds, their Per⯑ſons, and their Fortunes, at the firſt Entrance in⯑to it, is a Due to each other in the married Pair, as well as a Compliment to the reſt of the World. It was an Inſtruction of a wiſe Law-giver. That unmarried Women ſhould wear ſuch looſe Habits, which, in the flowing of their Garb, ſhould incite their Beholders to a Deſire of their Perſons; and that the ordinary Motion of their Bodies might diſplay the Figure and Shape of their Limbs in ſuch a Manner, as at once to preſerve the ſtricteſt Decency, and raiſe the warmeſt Inclina⯑tions.

This was the Oeconomy of the Legiſlator for the Increaſe of People, and at the ſame Time for the Preſervation of the Genial Bed. She who was the Admiration of all who beheld her while unmarried, was to bid adieu to the Pleaſure of ſhining in the Eyes of many, as ſoon as ſhe took upon her the wedded Condition. However, there was a Feſtival of Life allowed the New⯑married, a Sort of intermediate State between [345] Celibacy and Matrimony, which continued cer⯑tain Days. During that Time, Entertainments, Equipages, and other Circumſtances of Rejoi⯑cing, were encouraged, and they were permitted to exceed the common Mode of Living, that the Bride and Bridegroom might learn from ſuch Free⯑doms of Converſation to run into a general Con⯑duct to each other, made out of their paſt and future State, ſo to temper the Cares of the Man and the Wife with the Gieties of the Lover and Miſtreſs.

In thoſe wiſe Ages the Dignity of Life was kept up, and on the Celebration of ſuch Solem⯑nities there were no impertinent Whiſpers and ſenſeleſs Interpretations put upon the unaffected Chearfulneſs or accidental Seriouſneſs of the Bride; but Men turn'd their Thoughts upon the general Reflections, upon what Iſſue might probably be expected from ſuch a Couple in the ſucceeding Courſe of their Life, and felicitated them accor⯑dingly upon ſuch Proſpects.

I muſt confeſs, I cannot from any ancient Ma⯑nuſcripts, Sculptures, or Medals, deduce the Riſe of our celebrated Cuſtom of throwing the Stock⯑ing; but have a faint Memory of an Account a Friend gave me of an original Picture in the Pa⯑lace of Aldobrandini in Rome. This ſeems to ſhow a Senſe of this Affair very different from what is uſual among us. It is a Grecian Wed⯑ding, and the Figures repreſented are, a Perſon offering Sacrifice, a beautiful Damſel dancing, and another playing on the Harp. The Bride is placed in her Bed, the Bridegroom ſits at the Feet of it, with an Aſpect which intimates, his Thoughts were not only entertained with the Joys with which he was ſurrounded, but alſo with a noble Gratitude, and Divine Pleaſure in the Offering, which was then made to the Gods to invoke their influence on his new Condition. There appears in the Face of the Woman a Mixture of Fear, [346] Hope, and Modeſty; in the Bridegroom, a well⯑governed Rapture. As you ſee in great Spirits, Grief which diſcovers it ſelf the more by for⯑bearing Tears and Complaints, you may obſerve alſo the higheſt Joy is too big for Utterance, the Tongue being of all the Organs the leaſt capable of expreſſing ſuch a Circumſtance. The Nuptial Torch, the Bower, the Marriage Song, are all Particulars which we meet with in the Alluſions of the ancient Writers; and in every one of them ſomething is to be obſerved, which denotes their Induſtry to aggrandize and adorn this Occaſion above all others.

With us all Order and Decency in this Point is perverted, by the inſipid Mirth of certain Ani⯑mals we uſually call Wags. Theſe are a Species of all Men the moſt inſupportable. One can⯑not without ſome Reflection ſay, whether their flat Mirth provokes us more to Pity or to Scorn; but if one conſiders with how great Affectation they utter their frigid Conceits, Commiſeration imme⯑diately changes it ſelf into Contempt.

A Wag is the laſt Order even of Pretenders to Wit and good Humour. He has generally his Mind prepared to receive ſome Occaſion of Mer⯑riment, but is of himſelf too empty to draw any out of his own Set of Thoughts, and therefor [...] laughs at the next Thing he meets, not becauſe i [...] is ridiculous, but becauſe he is under a Neceſſit [...] of Laughing. A Wag is one that never in its Lif [...] ſaw a beautiful Object, but ſees, what it does ſee [...] in the moſt low and moſt inconſiderable Light [...] can be placed. There is a certain Ability nece [...] ⯑ſary to behold what is amiable and worthy [...] our Approbation, which little Minds want, an [...] attempt to hide by a general Diſregard to ever [...] Thing they behold above what they are able [...] reliſh. Hence it is, that a Wag in an Aſſembl [...] is ever gueſſing, how well ſuch a Lady ſlept la [...] Night, and how much ſuch a young Fellow [...] [347] pleas'd with himſelf. The Wag's Gaiety conſiſts in a certain profeſſed ill Breeding, as if it were an Excuſe for committing a Fault, that a Man knows he does ſo. Tho' all publick Places are full of Perſons of this Order, yet, becauſe I will not allow Impertinence and Affectation to get the better of native Innocence and Simplicity of Man⯑ners, I have, in Spite of ſuch little Diſturbers of publick Entertainments, perſwaded my Brother Tranquillus and his Wife my Siſter Jenny, in Fa⯑vour of Mr. Wilks, to be at the Play to Morrow Evening.

They, as they have ſo much good Senſe as to act naturally, without Regard to the Obſervation of others, will not, I hope, be diſcompoſed if any of the Fry of Wags ſhould take upon them to make themſelves merry upon the Occaſion of their coming, as they intend, in their Wedding Clothes. My Brother is a plain, worthy, and honeſt Man, and as it is natural for Men of that Turn to be mightily taken with ſprightly and airy Women, my Siſter has a Vivacity which may perhaps give Hopes to Impertinents, but will be eſteemed the Effect of Innocence among wife Men. They deſign to ſit with me in the Box, which the Houſe have been ſo complaiſant to offer me whenever I think fit to come thither in my publick Character.

I do not in the leaſt doubt, but the true Figure of Conjugal Affection will appear in their Looks and Geſtures. My Siſter does not affect to be gor⯑geous in her Dreſs, and thinks the Happineſs of a Wife is more viſible in a chearful Look than a gay Apparel. It is a hard Task to ſpeak of Per⯑ſons ſo nearly related to one with Decency, but I may ſay, all who ſhall be at the Play will allow him to have the Mien of a worthy Engliſh Gen⯑tleman; her, that of a notable and deſerving Wife.

AS ſoon as I was up this Morning, my Man gave me the following Letter, which, ſince it leads to a Subject that may prove of common Uſe to the World, I ſhall take Notice of with as much Expedition as my Fair Petitioner could deſire.

There is no Calamity in Life that falls heavier upon humane Nature than a Diſappointment in Love, eſpecially when it happens between Two Perſons whoſe Hearts are mutually engaged to each other. It is this Diſtreſs which has given Occaſion to ſome of the fineſt Tragedies that were ever written, and daily fills the World with Me⯑lancholy, Diſcontent, Phrenſy, Sickneſs, Deſpair, and Death. I have often admired at the Barba⯑rity of Parents, who ſo frequently interpoſe their Authority in this grand Article of Life. I would fain ask Silvia's Father, Whether he thinks he can beſtow a greater Favour on his Daughter, than to put her in a Way to live happily? Whe⯑ther a Man of Philander's Character, with 500l. per Annum, is not more likely to contribute to that End, than many a young Fellow whom he may have in his Thoughts with ſo many Thou⯑ſands? Whether he can make Amends to his Daughter by any Increaſe of Riches, for the Loſs [350] of that Happineſs ſhe propoſes to her ſelf in her Philander? Or whether a Father ſhould com⯑pound with his Daughter to be miſerable, though ſhe were to get 20000 l. by the Bargain: I ſup⯑poſe he would have her reflect with Eſteem on his Memory after his Death: And does he think this a proper Method to make her do ſo, when, as of⯑ten as ſhe thinks on the Loſs of her Philander, ſhe muſt at the ſame Time remember him as the cruel Cauſe of it? Any tranſientill Humour is ſoon forgotten; but the Reflection of ſuch a Cruelty muſt continue to raiſe Reſentments as long as Life it ſelf; and by this one Piece of Barbarity, an indulgent Father loſes the Merit of all his paſt Kindneſſes. It is not impoſſible but ſhe may de⯑ceive her ſelf in the Happineſs which ſhe propo⯑ſes from Philander; but as in ſuch a Caſe ſhe can have no one to blame but her ſelf, ſhe will bear the Diſappointment with greater Patience; but if ſhe never makes the Experiment, however happy ſhe may be with another, ſhe will ſtill think ſhe might have been happier with Philan⯑der. There is a kind of Sympathy in Souls that fits them for each other; and we may be aſſured, when we ſee Two Perſonsengaged in the Warmths of a mutual Affectation, that there are certain Qua⯑lities in both their Minds which bear a Reſem⯑blance to one another. A generous and conſtant Paſſion in an agreeable Lover, where there is not too great a Diſparity in other Circumſtances, is the greateſt Bleſſing that can befal the Perſon be⯑loved; and if overlooked in one, may perhaps never be found in another. I ſhall conclude this with a celebrated Inſtance of a Father's Indul⯑gence in this Particular, which, though carried to an Extravagance, has ſomething in it ſo tender and amiable, as may juſtly reproach the Hardneſs of Temper that is to be met with in many a Bri⯑tiſh Father.

[351] Antiochus, a Prince of great Hopes, fell paſſio⯑nately in Love with the young Queen Stratonice, who was his Mother-in-Law, and had bore a Son to the old King Seleucus his Father. The Prince finding it impoſſible to extinguiſh his Paſſion, fell ſick, and refuſed all manner of Nouriſhment, be⯑ing determined to put an End to that Life which was become inſupportable.

Eraſiſtratus the Phyſician ſoon found that Love was his Diſtemper; and obſerving the Alteration in his Pulſe and Countenance whenever Stratonice made him a Viſit, was ſoon ſatisfied that he was dying for his young Mother-in-Law. Knowing the old King's Tenderneſs for his Son, when he one Morning enquired of his Health, he told him, That the Prince's Diſtemper was Love; but that it was incurable, becauſe it was impoſſible for him to poſſeſs the Perſon whom he loved. The King, ſurpriſed at this Account, deſired to know how his Son's Paſſion could be incurable? Why Sir, replied Eraſiſtratus, becauſe he is in Love with the Perſon I am married to.

The old King immediately conjured him by all his paſt Favours to ſave the Life of his Son and Succeſſor. Sir, ſaid Eraſiſtratus, Would your Ma⯑jeſty but fancy your ſelf in my Place, you would ſee the Unreaſonableneſs of what you deſire? Hea⯑ven is my Witneſs, ſaid Seleucus, I could reſign even my Stratonice to ſave my Antiochus. At this the Tears ran down his Cheeks, which when the Phyſician ſaw, taking him by the Hand, Sir, ſays he, If theſe are your real Sentiments, the Prince's Life is out of Danger; it is Stratonice for whom he dies. Seleucus immediately gave Orders for fo⯑lemnizing the Marriage; and the young Queen, to ſhow her Obedience, very generouſly exchan⯑ged the Father for the Son.

AS it has been the Endeavour of theſe our Labours to extirpate from among the polite or buſy Part of Mankind, all ſuch as are either prejudicial or inſignificant to Society; ſo it ought to be no leſs our Study to ſupply the Havock we have made by an exact Care of the growing Ge⯑neration. But when we begin to inculcate pro⯑per Precepts to the Children of this Iſland, except we could take them out of their Nurſes Arms, we ſee an Amendment is almoſt impracticable; for we find the whole Species of our Youth and grown Men is incorrigibly prepoſſeſſed with Va⯑nity, Pride, or Ambition, according to the re⯑ſpective Purſuits to which they turn themſelves: By which Means the World is infatuated with the Love of Appearance inſtead of Things. Thus the vain Man takes Praiſe for Honour, the proud Man Ceremony for Reſpect, the ambitious Man Power for Glory. Theſe three Characters are in⯑deed of very near Reſemblance, but differently received by Mankind. Vanity makes Men ridi⯑culous; Pride, odious; and Ambition, terrible. The Foundation of all which is, That they are grounded upon Falſhood: For if Men, inſtead of ſtudying to appear conſiderable, were in their own Hearts Poſſeſſors of the Requiſites for Eſteem, the Acceptance they otherwiſe unfortunately aim at would be as inſeparable from them, as Appro⯑bation [353] is from Truth it ſelf. By this Means they would have ſome Rule to walk by; and they may ever be aſſured, that a good Cauſe of Action will certainly receive a ſuitable Effect. It may be an uſeful Hint in ſuch Caſes for a Man to ask of himſelf, Whether he really is what he has a Mind to be thought? If he is, he need not give himſelf much further Anxiety. What will the World ſay? is the common Queſtion in Matters of Dif⯑ficulty; as if the Terror lay wholly in the Senſe which others, and not we our ſelves, ſhall have of our Actions. From this one Source ariſe all the Impoſtors in every Art and Profeſſion, in all Pla⯑ces, among all Perſons in Converſation, as well as in Buſineſs. Hence it is, that a vain Fellow takes twice as much Pains to be ridiculous, as would make him ſincerely agreeable.

Can any one be better faſhioned, better bred, or has any one more good Nature, than Damaſip⯑pus? But the whole Scope of his Looks and Acti⯑ons tends ſo immediately to gain the good Opi⯑nion of all he converſes with, that he loſes it for that only Reaſon. As it is the Nature of Vanity to impoſe falſe Shews for Truths, ſo does it alſo turn Real Poſſeſſions into Imaginary Ones. Da⯑maſippus, by aſſuming to himſelf what he has not, robs himſelf of what he has.

There is nothing more neceſſary to eſtabliſh Reputation, than to ſuſpend the Enjoyment of it. He that cannot bear the Senſe of Merit with Si⯑lence, muſt of Neceſſity deſtroy it: For Fame being the general Miſtreſs of Mankind, whoever gives it to himſelf, inſults all to whom he relates any Circumſtances to his own Advantage. He is conſidered as an open Raviſher of that Beauty, for whom all others pine in Silence. But ſome Minds are ſo incapable of any Temperance in this Particular, that on every Second in their Diſ⯑courſe you may obſerve an Earneſtneſs in their Eyes, which ſhows they wait for your Approba⯑tion, [354] and perhaps the next Inſtant caſt an Eye on a Glaſs to ſee how they like themſelves. Walk⯑ing the other Day in a neighbouring Inn of Court, I ſaw a more happy and more graceful Orator than I ever before had heard, or read of. A Youth, of about Nineteen Years of Age, was in an In⯑dian Night-Gown and Laced-Cap [...] pleading a Cauſe before a Glaſs: The young Fellow had a very good Air, and ſeemed to hold his Brief in his Hand rather to help his Action, than that he wanted Notes for his further Information. When I firſt began to obſerve him, I feared he would ſoon be alarmed; but he was ſo zealous for his Client, and ſo favourably received by the Court, that he went on with great Fluency to inform the Bench, That he humbly hoped they would not let the Merit of the Cauſe ſuffer by the Youth and Inexperience of the Pleader; that in all Things he ſubmitted to their Candour; and modeſtly deſi⯑red they would not conclude, but that Strength of Argument and Force of Reaſon may be con⯑ſiſtent with Grace of Action and Comelineſs of Perſon.

To me, who ſee People every Day in the midſt of Crowds (whomſoever they ſeem to addreſs to) talk only to themſelves and of themſelves, this Orator was not ſo extravagant a Man as perhaps another would have thought him; but I took Part in his Succeſs, and was very glad to find he had in his Favour Judgment and Coſts without any Manner of Oppoſition.

The Effects of Pride and Vanity are of Conſe⯑quence only to the Proud and the Vain, and tend to no further Ill than what is Perſonal to them⯑ſelves, in preventing their Progreſs in any Thing that is worthy and laudable, and creating Envy inſtead of Emulation of ſuperior Virtue. Theſe ill Qualities are to be found only in ſuch as have ſo little Minds, as to circumſcribe their Thoughts and Deſigns within what properly relates to the [355] Value which they think due to their dear and amiable ſelves: But Ambition, which is the Third great Impediment to Honour and Virtue, is a Fault of ſuch as think themſelves born for moving in an higher Orb, and prefer being Powerful and Miſchievous to being Virtuous and Obſcure. The Parent of this Miſchief in Life, ſo far as to regu⯑late it into Schemes, and make it poſſeſs a Man's whole Heart, without his believing himſelf a Dae⯑mon, was Machiavil. He firſt taught, That a Man muſt neceſſarily appear weak to be honeſt. Hence it gains upon the Imagination, that a great is not ſo deſpicable as a little Villain; and Men are in⯑ſenſibly led to a Belief, that the Aggravation of Crimes is the Diminution of them. Hence the Impiety of thinking one Thing and ſpeaking ano⯑ther. In Purſuance of this empty and unſatisfy⯑ing Dream, to betray, to undermine, to kill in themſelves all natural Sentiments of Love to Friends or Country, is the willing Practice of ſuch as are thirſty of Power, for any other Reaſon than that of being uſeful and acceptable to Mankind.

There is a ſenſible Satisfaction in obſerving the Countenance and Action of the People on ſome Occaſions. To gratify my ſelf in this Pleaſure, I came hither with all Speed this Evening with an Account of the Surrender of Douay. As ſoon as the Battel-Criticks heard it, they immediately drew ſome Comfort, in that it muſt have coſt us a great deal of Men. Others were ſo negligent of the Glory of their Country, that they went on in their Diſcourſe on the full Houſe which is to be at Othello on Thurſday, and the Curioſity they ſhould go with to ſee Wilks play a Part ſo [360] very different from what he had ever before ap⯑peared in, together with the Expectation that wa [...] raiſed in the gay Part of the Town on that Occa⯑ſion.

This univerſal Indolence and Inattention amon [...] us to Things that concern the Publick, made m [...] look back with the higheſt Reverence on the glo⯑rious Inſtances in Antiquity, of a contrary Beha⯑viour in the like Circumſtances. Harry Engliſ [...] upon obſerving the Room ſo little rouſed on th [...] News, fell into the ſame Way of Thinking. How unlike, ſaid he, Mr. Bickerſtaff, are we to the ol [...] Romans? There was not a Subject of their Sta [...] but thought himſelf as much concerned in th [...] Honour of his Country, as the firſt Officer of th Commonwealth. How do I admire the Meſſen⯑ger, who ran with a Thorn in his Foot to tell th News of a Victory to the Senate! He had no Leiſure for his private Pain, till he had expreſſe [...] his publick Joy; nor could he ſuffer as a Man, [...] he had triumph'd as a Roman.

I Was this Morning looking over my Letters th [...] I have lately received from my ſeveral Co [...] ⯑reſpondents; ſome of which referring to my la [...] Papers, I have laid aſide, with an Intent to give m [...] Reader a Sight of them. The Firſt criticiſes upo [...] my Green-houſe, and is as follows:

This Overſight of a Graſs plot in my Friend's Green-houſe, puts me in Mind of a like Incon⯑ſiſtency in a celebrated Picture, where Moſes is re⯑preſented as ſtriking a Rock, and the Children of Iſrael quenching their Thirſt at the Waters that flow from it, and run through a beautiful Land⯑skip of Groves and Meadows, which could not flouriſh in a Place where Water was to have been found only by a Miracle.

The next Letter comes to me from a Kentiſh Yeoman, who is very angry with me for my Ad⯑vice to Parents, occaſioned by the Amours of Sil⯑via and Philander, as related in my Paper, N^o 185.

This Letter is a natural Picture of ordinary Con⯑tracts, and of the Sentiments of thoſe Minds tha [...] lie under a Kind of intellectual Ruſticity. Th [...] trifling Occaſion made me run over in my Ima⯑gination the many Scenes I have obſerved of th [...] married Condition, wherein the Quinteſſence [...] Pleaſure and Pain are repreſented as they accom⯑pany that State, and no other. It is certain, th [...] [363] are a Thouſand Thouſand like the above-men⯑tioned Yeoman and his Wife, who are never high⯑ly pleaſed or diſtaſted in their whole Lives: But when we conſider the more informed Part of Mankind, and look upon their Behaviour, it then appears that very little of their Time is indiffe⯑rent, but generally ſpent in the moſt anxious Vexation, or the higheſt Satisfaction. Shakeſpear has admirably repreſented both the Aſpects of this State in the moſt excellent Tragedy of Othello. In the Character of Deſdemona, he runs through all the Sentiments of a virtuous Maid, and a tender Wife. She is captivated by his Virtue, and faith⯑ful to him, as well from that Motive, as Regard to her own Honour. Othello is a great and noble Spirit, miſled by the Villany of a falſe Friend to ſuſpect her Innocence, and reſents it accordingly. When after the many Inſtances of Paſſion the Wife is told her Husband is jealous, her Simpli⯑city makes her incapable of believing it, and ſay, after ſuch Circumſtances as would drive another Woman into Diſtraction,

This Opinion of him is ſo juſt, that his noble and tender Heart beats it ſelf to Pieces before he can affront her with the Mention of his Jealouſy; and owns, this Suſpicion has blotted out all the Senſe of Glory and Happineſs which before it was poſſeſſed with, when he laments himſelf in the warm Alluſions of a Mind accuſtomed to Enter⯑tainments ſo very different from the Pangs of Jea⯑louſy and Revenge. How moving is his Sorrow, when he cries out as follows!

I believe I may venture to ſay, There is not in any other Part of Shakeſpear's Works more ſtrong and lively Pictures of Nature than in this. I ſhal [...] therefore ſteal incog. to ſee it, out of Curioſity to obſerve how Wilks and Cibber touch thoſe Places where Betterton and Sandford ſo very highly ex⯑celled. But now I am got into a Diſcourſe o [...] Acting, with which I am ſo profeſſedly pleaſed [...] I ſhall conclude this Paper with a Note I have ju [...] received from the Two ingenious Friends, Mr Pen⯑kethman, and Mr. Bullock.

For the Information of Poſterity, I ſhall com⯑ply with this Letter, and ſet theſe Two great Me [...] in ſuch a Light as Salluſt has placed his Cato an [...] Caeſar.

Mr. William Bullock and Mr. William Penketh⯑man are of the ſame Age, Profeſſion, and Se [...] They both diſtinguiſh themſelves in a very parti⯑cular Manner under the Diſcipline of the Crab-Tree, [365] with this only Difference, That Mr. Bullock has the moſt agreeable Squawl, and Mr. Penketh⯑man the more graceful Shrug. Penkethman de⯑vours a cold Chick with great Applauſe; Bul⯑lock's Talent lies chiefly in Sparagraſs. Penketh⯑man is very dext'rous at conveying himſelf under a Table; Bullock is no leſs active at jumping over a Stick. Mr. Penkethman has a great deal of Mo⯑ney, but Mr. Bullock is the taller Man.

HAving lately turned my Thoughts upon the Conſideration of the Behaviour of Parents to Children in the great Affair of Marriage, I took much Delight in turning over a Bundle of Let⯑ters which a Gentleman's Steward in the Country had ſent me ſome Time ago. This Parcel is a Collection of Letters written by the Children of the Family (to which he belongs) to their Fa⯑ther, and contain all the little Paſſages of their Lives, and the new Idea's they received as their Years advanced. There is in them an Account of their Diverſions as well as their Exerciſes; and what I thought very remarkable, is, That Two Sons of the Family, who now make conſiderable Figures in the World, gave Omens of that Sort of Character which they now bear, in the firſt Ru⯑diments of Thought which they ſhow in their [366] Letters. Were one to point out a Method of Edu⯑cation, one could not, methinks, frame one more pleaſing or improving than this; where the Children get an Habit of communicating their Thoughts and Inclinations to their beſt Friend with ſo much Freedom, that he can form Schemes for their future Life and Conduct from an Ob⯑ſervation of their Tempers, and by that Means be early enough in chuſing their Way of Life, to make them forward in ſome Art or Science at an Age when others have not determined what Pro⯑feſſion to follow. As to the Perſons concerned in this Packet I am ſpeaking of, they have given great Proofs of the Force of this Conduct of their Fa⯑ther in the Effect it has had upon their Lives and Manners. The elder, who is a Scholar, ſhowed from his Infancy a Propenſity to polite Studies, and has made a ſuitable Progreſs in Literature; but his Learning is ſo well woven into his Mind, that from the Impreſſions of it, he ſeems rather to have contracted an Habit of Life, than Manner of Diſcourſe. To his Books he ſeems to owe a good Oeconomy in his Affairs, and a Compla⯑cency in his Manners, though in others that Way of Education has commonly a quite different Ef⯑fect. The Epiſtles of the other Son are full of Accounts of what he thought moſt remarkable in his Reading. He ſends his Father for News the [...]aſt noble Story he had read. I obſerve, he is particularly touched with the Conduct of Codrus, who plotted his own Death, becauſe the Oracle had ſaid, If he were not killed, the Enemy ſhould prevail over his Country. Many other Incidents in his little Letters give Omens of a Soul capable of generous Undertakings; and what makes it the more particular, is, That this Gentleman had, in the preſent War, the Honour and Happineſs of doing an Action for which only it was worth coming into the World. Their Father is the moſt intimate Friend they have, and they always con⯑ſult [367] him rather than any other, when any Error has happened in their Conduct through Youth and Inadvertency. The Behaviour of this Gentle⯑man to his Sons, has made his Life paſs away with the Pleaſures of a ſecond Youth; for as the Vexations which Men receive from their Children haſten the Approach of Age, and double the Force of Years; ſo the Comforts which they reap from them, are Balm to all other Sorrows, and diſap⯑point the Injuries of Time. Parents of Children repeat their Lives in their Offspring, and their Concern for them is ſo near, that they feel all their Sufferings and Enjoyments as much as if they re⯑garded their own proper Perſons. But it is gene⯑rally ſo far otherwiſe, that the common Race of 'Squires in this Kingdom uſe their Sons as Per⯑ſons that are waiting only for their Funerals, and Spies upon their Health and Happineſs; as in⯑deed they are by their own making them ſuch. In Caſes where a Man takes the Liberty after this Manner to reprehend others, it is commonly ſaid, Let him look at Home. I am ſorry to own it; but there is one Branch of the Houſe of the Bicker⯑ſtaffs, who have been as erroneous in their Con⯑duct this Way as any other Family whatſoever. The Head of this Branch is now in Town, and has brought up with him his Son and Daughter (who are all the Children he has) in order to be put ſome Way into the World, and ſee Faſhions. They are both very ill-bred Cubs, and having li⯑ved together from their Infancy without Know⯑ledge of the Diſtinctions and Decencies that are proper to be paid to each other's Sex, they ſquab⯑ble like two Brothers. The Father is one of thoſe who knows no better than that all Pleaſure is De⯑bauchery, and imagines, when he ſees a Man become his Eſtate, that he will certainly ſpend it. This Branch are a People who never had among them one Man eminent either for Good or Ill; however, have all along kept their Heads juſt [368] above Water, not by a prudent and regular Oeco⯑nomy, but by Expedients in the Matches they have made into their Houſe. When one of the Family has, in the Purſuit of Foxes, and in the Entertainment of Clowns, ran out the Third Part of the Value of his Eſtate, ſuch a Spendthriſt has dreſſed up his eldeſt Son, and married what they call a Good Fortune, who has ſupported the Fa⯑ther as a Tyrant over them, during his Life, in the ſame Houſe or Neighbourhood. The Son in Succeſſion has juſt taken the ſame Method to keep up his Dignity, till the Mortgages he has eat and drank himſelf into, have reduced him to the Ne⯑ceſſity of ſacrificing his Son alſo, in Imitation of his Progenitor. This had been for many Genera⯑tions the whole that had happened in the Family of Sam. Bickerſtaff, till the Time of my preſent Couſin Samuel, the Father of the young People we have juſt now ſpoken of.

Samuel Bickerſtaff Eſq is ſo happy, as that by ſeveral Legacies from diſtant Relations, Deaths of Maiden Siſters, and other Inſtances of good Fortune, he has, beſides his real Eſtate, a great Sum of ready Money. His Son at the ſame Time knows he has a good Fortune, which the Father cannot alienate, though he ſtrives to make him believe he depends only on his Will for Main⯑tenance. Tom is now in his Nineteenth Year, Mrs. Mary in her Fifteenth. Couſin Samuel, who underſtands no one Point of good Behaviour as it regards all the reſt of the World, is an exact Cri⯑tick in the Dreſs, the Motion, the Looks and Geſtures of his Children. What adds to their Miſery, is, That he is exceſſively fond of them, and the greateſt Part of their Time is ſpent in the Preſence of this nice Obſerver. Their Life is one continued Conſtraint. The Girl never turns her Head, but ſhe is warned not to follow the proud Minxes of the Town. The Boy is not to turn Fop, or be quarrelſom; at the ſame Time not to [369] take an Affront. I had the good Fortune to dine with him to day, and heard his fatherly Table-Talk as we ſat at Dinner, which, if my Memory does not fail me, for the Benefit of the World, I ſhall ſet down as he ſpoke it, which was much as follows, and may be of great Uſe to thoſe Pa⯑rents who ſeem to make it a Rule, That their Children's Turn to enjoy the World is not to com⯑mence, till they themſelves have left it.