THERE are ſome Occaſions in Life, where⯑in Regards to a Man's ſelf is the moſt piti⯑ful and contemptible of all Paſſions; and ſuch a Time certainly is when the true publick Spirit of a Nation is run into a Faction againſt their Friends and Benefactors. I have hinted heretofore ſome Things which diſcover the real Sorrow I am in at the Obſervation, that it is now very much ſo in Great Britain, and have had the Honour to be pelted with ſeveral Epiſtles to expoſtulate with me on that Subject. Among others, one from a Perſon of the Number of thoſe they call Quakers, who ſeems to admoniſh me out of pure Zeal and Good-will. But as there is no Character ſo unjuſt as that of talking in Party upon all Occa⯑ſions, without Reſpect to Merit or Worth on the [2] contrary Side, ſo there is no Part we can act ſo juſtifiable as to ſpeak our Mind when we ſee Things urged to Extremity, againſt all that is Praiſe-worthy or valuable in Life, upon general and groundleſs Suggeſtions. But if I have talked too frankly upon ſuch Reflections, my Cor⯑reſpondent has laid before me, after his Way, the Error of it in a Manner that makes me indeed thankful for his Kindneſs, but the more inclina⯑ble to repeat the Imprudence from the Neceſſity of the Circumſtance.

If the zealous Writer of the above Letter has any Meaning, it is of too high a Nature to be the Subject of my Lucubrations. I ſhall therefore wave ſuch high Points, and be as uſeful as I can to Perſons of leſs Moment than any he hints at. When a Man runs into a little Fame in the World, as he meets with a great deal of Reproach which he does not deſerve, ſo does he alſo a great deal of Eſteem to which he has in himſelf no Pre⯑tenſions. Were it otherwiſe, I am ſure no one would offer to put a Law-Caſe to me: But be⯑cauſe I am an Adept in Phyſick and Aſtrology, [4] they will needs perſwade me that I am no leſs a Proficient in all other Sciences. However, the Point mentioned in the following Letter is ſo plain a one, that I think I need not trouble my ſelf to caſt a Figure to be able to diſcuſs it.

[5] There is nothing ſo dangerous or ſo pleaſing, as Compliments made to us by our Enemies: And my Correſpondent tells me, That though he knows ſeveral of thoſe who give him this Coun⯑ſel were at firſt againſt paſſing the Fine in Favour of him; yet is he ſo touched with their Homage to him, that he can hardly believe they have a Mind to ſet it aſide, in order to introduce the Heirs-General into his Eſtate.

Theſe are great Evils; but ſince there is no proceeding with Succeſs in this World, without complying with the Arts of it, I ſhall uſe the ſame Method as my Correſpondent's Tenants did with him, in Relation to one whom I never had a Kindneſs for; but ſhall, notwithſtanding, pre⯑ſume to give him my Advice.

OF all the Evils under the Sun, that of ma⯑king Vice commendable is the greateſt: For it ſeems to be the Baſis of Society, that Ap⯑plauſe and Contempt ſhould be always given to proper Objects. But in this Age we behold Things for which we ought to have an Abhor⯑rence, not only received without Diſdain, but even valued as Motives of Emulation. This is na⯑turally the Deſtruction of Simplicity of Manners, Openneſs of Heart, and Generoſity of Temper. When one gives ones ſelf the Liberty to range, and run over in ones Thoughts the different Ge⯑nius's of Men which one meets in the World, one cannot but obſerve, that moſt of the Indi⯑rection and Artifice which is uſed among Men, does not proceed ſo much from a Degeneracy in Nature, as an Affectation of appearing Men of Conſequence by ſuch Practices. By this Means it is, that a cunning Man is ſo far from being aſhamed of being eſteemed ſuch, that he ſecretly rejoices in it. It has been a Sort of Maxim, That the greateſt Art is to conceal Art; but I know not how, among ſome People we meet with, their greateſt Cunning is to appear cunning. There is Polypragmon makes it the whole Buſineſs of his Life to be thought a cunning Fellow, and thinks it a much greater Character to be terrible than agreeable. When it has once enter'd into a Man's Head to have an Ambition to be thought crafty, all other Evils are neceſſary Conſequences. To [7] deceive, is the immediate Endeavour of him who is proud of the Capacity of doing it. It is cer⯑tain, Polypragmon does all the Ill he poſſibly can, but pretends to much more than he performs. He is contented in his own Thoughts, and hugs himſelf in his Cloſet, that though he is locked up there and doing nothing, the World does not know but that he is doing Miſchief. To favour this Suſpicion, he gives Half-Looks and Shrugs in his general Behaviour, to give you to under⯑ſtand that you don't know what he means. He is alſo wonderfully adverbial in his Expreſſions, and breaks off with a Perhaps and a Nod of the Head, upon Matters of the moſt indifferent Na⯑ture. It is a mighty Practice with Men of this Genius to avoid frequent Appearance in Publick, and to be as myſterious as poſſible when they do come into Company. There is nothing to be done, according to them, the common Way; and let the Matter in Hand be what it will, it muſt be carried with an Air of Importance, and tranſ⯑acted, if we may ſo ſpeak, with an oſtentatious Secrecy. Theſe are your Perſons of long Heads, who would fain make the World believe their Thoughts and Idea's are very much ſuperior to their Neighbours, and do not value what theſe their Neighbours think of them, provided they do not reckon them Fools. Theſe have ſuch a Romantick Touch in Buſineſs, that they hate to perform any Thing like other Men. Were it in their Choice, they had rather bring their Pur⯑poſes to bear by over-reaching the Perſons they deal with, than by a plain and ſimple Manner. They make Difficulties for the Honour of ſur⯑mounting them. Polypragmon is eternally buſied after this Manner, with no other Proſpect than that he is in Hopes to be thought the moſt cun⯑ning of all Men, and fears the Imputation of Want of Underſtanding much more than that of the Abuſe of it. But alas! How contemptible is [8] ſuch an Ambition, which is the very Reverſe of all that is truly laudable; and the very Contra⯑diction to the only Means to a juſt Reputation, Simplicity of Manners? Cunning can in no Cir⯑cumſtance imaginable be a Quality worthy a Man, except in his own Defence, and meerly to con⯑ceal himſelf from ſuch as are ſo; and in ſuch Caſes it is no longer Craft, but Wiſdom. The monſtrous Affectation of being thought artful, immediately kills all Thoughts of Humanity and Goodneſs, and gives Men a Senſe of the ſoft Affections and Impulſes of the Mind (which are imprinted in us for our mutual Advantage and Succour) as of meer Weakneſſes and Follies. Ac⯑cording to the Men of Cunning, you are to put off the Nature of a Man as faſt as you can, and acquire that of a Daemon, as if it were a more eligible Character to be a powerful Enemy, than an able Friend. But it ought to be a Mortifica⯑tion to Men affected this Way, that there wants but little more than Inſtinct to be conſiderable in it; for when a Man has arrived at being very bad in his Inclination, he has not much more to do, but to conceal himſelf, and he may revenge, cheat, and deceive, without much Employment for Underſtanding, and go on with great Chear⯑fulneſs with the high Applauſe of being a prodi⯑gious cunning Fellow. But indeed, when we ar⯑rive at that Pitch of falſe Taſte, as not to think Cunning a contemptible Quality, it is, methinks, a very great Injuſtice that Pickpockets are had in ſo little Veneration, who muſt be admirably well turned, not only for the Theoretick, but al⯑ſo the Practical Behaviour of cunning Fellows. After all the Endeavour of this Family of Men, whom we call cunning, their whole Work falls to Pieces, if others will lay down all Eſteem for ſuch Artifices, and treat it as an unmanly Quali⯑ty, which they forbear to practiſe only becauſe they abhor it. When the Spider is ranging in [9] the different Apartments of his Web, it is true that he only can weave ſo fine a Thread; but it is in the Power of the meereſt Drone that has Wings to fly through and deſtroy it.

Tho' the Taſte of Wit and Pleaſure is at pre⯑ſent but very low in this Town, yet there are ſome that preſerve their Reliſh undebauched with common Impreſſions, and can diſtinguiſh between Reality and Impoſture. A Gentleman was ſaying here this Evening, That he would go to the Play to Morrow Night to ſee Heroiſm, as it has been repreſented by ſome of our Tragedians, repre⯑ſented in Burleſque. It ſeems, the Play of Alex⯑ander is to be then turned into Ridicule for its Bombaſt, and other falſe Ornaments in the Thought as well as the Language. The Bluſter Alexander makes, is as much inconſiſtent with the Character of an Hero, as the Roughneſs of Clytus an Inſtance of the Sincerity of a bold art⯑leſs Soldier. To be plain is not to be rude, but rather inclines a Man to Civility and Deference; not indeed to ſhow it in the Geſtures of the Bo⯑dy, but in the Sentiments of the Mind. It is among other Things from the impertinent Fi⯑gures unskilful Dramatiſts draw of the Chara⯑cters of Men, that Youth are bewildered and pre⯑judiced in their Senſe of the World, of which they have no Notions but what they draw from Books and ſuch Repreſentations. Thus talk to a very young Man, let him be of never ſo good Senſe, and he ſhall ſmile when you ſpeak of Sin⯑cerity in a Courtier, good Senſe in a Soldier, or Honeſty in a Politician. The Reaſon of this is, That you hardly ſee one Play wherein each of theſe Ways of Life is not drawn by Hands that know nothing of any one of them: And the Truth is ſo far of the oppoſite Side to what they paint, that it is more impracticable to live in Eſteem in Courts than any where elſe without Sincerity. Good [10] Senſe is the great Requiſite in a Soldier, and Ho⯑neſty the only Thing that can ſupport a Politi⯑cian. This Way of Thinking made the Gentle⯑man of whom I was juſt now ſpeaking ſay, He was glad any one had taken upon him to depre⯑ciate ſuch unnatural Fuſtian as the Tragedy of Alexander. The Character of that Prince indeed was, That he was unequal, and given to Intem⯑perance; but in his ſober Moments, when he had warm in his Imagination the Precepts of his great Inſtructor, he was a Pattern of generous Thoughts and Diſpoſitions, in Oppoſition to the ſtrongeſt Deſires which are incident to a Youth and Con⯑queror. But inſtead of repreſenting that Hero in the glorious Character of Generoſity and Chaſti⯑ty, in his Treatment of the beauteous Family of Darius, he is drawn all along as a Monſter of Luſt, or of Cruelty; as if the Way to raiſe him to the Degree of an Hero, were to make his Cha⯑racter as little like that of a worthy Man as poſ⯑ſible. Such rude and indigeſted Draughts of Things are the proper Objects of Ridicule and Contempt, and depreciating Alexander, as we have him drawn, is the only Way of reſtoring him to what he was in himſelf. It is well con⯑trived of the Players to let this Part be followed by a true Picture of Life, in the Comedy call'd, The Chances, wherein Don John and Conſtantia are acted to the utmoſt Perfection. There need not be a greater Inſtance of the Force of Action than in many Incidents of this Play, where indif⯑ferent Paſſages, and ſuch that conduce only to the tacking of the Scenes together, are enlivened with ſuch an agreeable Geſture and Behaviour, as apparently ſhows what a Play might be, tho' it is not wholly what a Play ſhould be.

SOme Years ſince I was engaged with a Coach full of Friends to take a Journey as far as the Land's-End. We were very well pleaſed with one another the firſt Day, every one endeavouring to recommend himſelf by his good Humour and Complaiſance to the reſt of the Company. This good Correſpondence did not laſt long; one of our Party was ſowred the very firſt Evening by a Plate of Butter which had not been melted to his Mind, and which ſpoiled his Temper to ſuch a Degree, that he continued upon the Fret to the End of our Journey. A Second fell off from his good Humour the next Morning, for no other Reaſon that I could imagine, but becauſe I chanced to ſtep into the Coach before him, and place my ſelf on the ſhady Side. This however was but my own private Gueſs, for he did not mention a Word of it, nor indeed of any Thing elſe, for Three Days following. The reſt of our Company held out very near half the Way, when of a ſudden Mr. Sprightly fell aſleep; and in⯑ſtead of endeavouring to divert and oblige us, as he had hitherto done, carried himſelf with an unconcerned, careleſs, drowzy Behaviour, till we came to uur laſt Stage. There were Three of us who ſtill held up our Heads, and did all we could to make our Journey agreeable; but, to my Shame be it ſpoken, about Three Miles on this Side Exeter, I was taken with an unaccountable [12] Fit of Sullenneſs, that hung upon me for above Threeſcore Miles; whether it were for Want of Reſpect, or from an accidental. Tread upon my Foot, or from a fooliſh Maid's calling me The old Gentleman. I cannot tell. In ſhort, there was but one who kept his good Humour to the Land's-End.

There was another Coach that went along with us, in which I likewiſe obſerved, that there were many ſecret Jealouſies, Heart-burnings, and Ani⯑moſities: For when we joined Companies at Night, I could not but take Notice, that the Paſ⯑ſengers neglected their own Company, and ſtu⯑died how to make themſelves eſteemed by us, who were altogether Strangers to them; till at length they grew ſo well acquainted with us, that they liked us as little as they did one another. When I reflect upon this Journey, I often fancy it to be a Picture of Humane Life, in Reſpect to the ſeveral Friendſhips, Contracts, and Alliances, that are made and diſſolved in the ſeveral Periods of it. The moſt delightful and moſt laſting En⯑gagements are generally thoſe which paſs between Man and Woman; and yet upon what Trifles are they weakened, or entirely broken? Sometimes the Parties fly aſunder, even in the Midſt of Courtſhip, and ſometimes grow cool in the very Honey Month. Some ſeparate before the Firſt Child, and ſome after the Fifth; others continue good till Thirty, others till Forty; while ſome few, whoſe Souls are of an happier Make, and better fitted to one another, travel on toge⯑ther to the End of their Journey in a continual Intercourſe of kind Offices and mutual Endear⯑ments.

When we therefore chuſe our Companions for Life, if we hope to keep both them and our ſelves in good Humour to the laſt Stage of it, we muſt be extreamly careful in the Choice we make, as well as in the Conduct on our own [13] Part. When the Perſons to whom we join our ſelves can ſtand an Examination, and bear the Scrutiny, when they mend upon our Acquain⯑tance with them, and diſcover new Beauties the more we ſearch into their Characters, our Love will naturally riſe in Proportion to their Per⯑fections.

But becauſe there are very few poſſeſſed of ſuch Accompliſhments of Body and Mind, we ought to look after thoſe Qualifications both in our ſelves and others, which are indiſpenſibly ne⯑ceſſary towards this happy Union, and which are in the Power of every one to acquire, or at leaſt to cultivate and improve. Theſe, in my Opinion, are Chearfulneſs and Conſtancy. A chearful Temper joined with Innocence, will make Beau⯑ty attractive, Knowledge delightful, and Wit good-natured. It will lighten Sickneſs, Poverty, and Affliction; convert Ignorance into an amia⯑ble Simplicity, and render Deformity it ſelf agree⯑able.

Conſtancy is natural to Perſons of even Tem⯑pers and uniform Diſpoſitions, and may be ac⯑quired by thoſe of the greateſt Fickleneſs, Vio⯑lence and Paſſion, who conſider ſeriouſly the Terms of Union upon which they come together, the mutual Intereſt in which they are engaged, with all the Motives that ought to incite their Tenderneſs and Compaſſion towards thoſe who have their Dependance upon them, and are em⯑barked with them for Life in the ſame State of Happineſs or Miſery. Conſtancy, when it grows in the Mind upon Conſiderations of this Nature, becomes a Moral Virtue, and a kind of good Na⯑ture, that is not ſubject to any Change of Health, Age, Fortune, or any of thoſe Accidents which are apt to unſettle the beſt Diſpoſitions that are founded rather in Conſtitution than in Reaſon. Where ſuch a Conſtancy as this is wanting, the moſt enflamed Paſſion may fall away into Cold⯑neſs [14] and Indifference, and the moſt melting Ten⯑derneſs degenerate into Hatred and Averſion. I ſhall conclude this Paper with a Story that is ve⯑ry well known in the North of England.

About Thirty Years ago, a Packet-Boat that had ſeveral Paſſengers on Board was caſt away upon a Rock, and in ſo great Danger of ſinking, that all who were in it endeavoured to ſave themſelves as well at they could, though only thoſe who could ſwim well had a bare Poſſibility of doing it. Among the Paſſengers there were Two Women of Faſhion, who ſeeing themſelves in ſuch a diſconſolate Condition, begged of their Husbands not to leave them. One of them choſe rather to die with his Wife, than to forſake her; the other, though he was moved with the ut⯑moſt Compaſſion for his Wife, told her, That for the Good of their Children it was better one of them ſhould live, than both periſh. By a great Piece of good Luck, next to a Miracle, when one of our good Men had taken the laſt and long Farewel in order to ſave himſelf, and the other held in his Arms the Perſon that was dearer to him than Life, the Ship was preſerved. It is with a ſecret Sorrow and Vexation of Mind that I muſt tell the Sequel of the Story, and let my Reader know, that this faithful Pair who were ready to have died in each others Arms, about Three Years after their Eſcape, upon ſome tri⯑fling Diſguſt, grew to a Coldneſs at firſt, and at length fell out to ſuch a Degree, that they left one another, and parted for ever. The other Couple lived together in an uninterrupted Friend⯑ſhip and Felicity; and what was remarkable, the Husband whom the Shipwreck had like to have ſeparated from his Wife, died a few Months after her, not being able to ſurvive the Loſs of her.

I muſt confeſs, there is ſomething in the Changeableneſs and Inconſtancy of Humane Na⯑ture, that very often both dejects and terrifies [15] me. Whatever I am at preſent, I tremble to think what I may be. While I find this Principle in me, How can I aſſure my ſelf that I ſhall be always true to my God, my Friend, or my ſelf? In ſhort, without Conſtancy there is neither Love, Friendſhip, or Virtue, in the World.

I Have of late received many Epiſtles, where⯑in the Writers treat me as a mercenary Perſon for ſome late Hints concerning Matters which they think I ſhould not have touched upon but for ſordid Conſiderations. It is apparent, that my Motive could not be of that Kind; for when a Man declares him ſelf openly on one Side, that Party will take no more Notice of him, becauſe he is ſure; and the Set of Men whom he declares againſt, for the ſame Reaſon are violent againſt him. Thus it is Folly in a Plain-Dealer to ex⯑pect, that either his Friends will reward him, or his Enemies forgive him. For which Reaſon, I thought it was the ſhorteſt Way to Impartiality, to put my ſelf beyond further Hopes or Fears, by declaring my ſelf, at a Time when the Diſ⯑pute is not about Perſons and Parties, but Things and Cauſes. To relieve my ſelf from the Vexa⯑tion which naturally attends ſuch Reflections, I came hither this Evening to give my Thoughts [16] quite a new Turn, and converſe with Men of Pleaſure and Wit, rather than thoſe of Buſineſs and Intrigue. I had hardly entered the Room, when I was accoſted by Mr. Thomas Dogget, who deſired my Favour in Relation to the Play which was to be acted for his Benefit on Thurſday. He pleaſed me in ſaying it was The Old Batchelor, in which Comedy there is a neceſſary Circumſtance obſerv'd by the Author, which moſt other Poets either overlook or do not underſtand, that is to ſay, the Diſtinction of Characters. It is very or⯑dinary with Writers to indulge a certain Modeſty of believing all Men as witty as themſelves, and making all the Perſons of the Play ſpeak the Sentiments of the Author, without any Manner of Reſpect to the Age, Fortune, or Quality, of him that is on the Stage. Ladies talk like Rakes, and Footmen make Similes: But this Writer knows Men. which makes his Plays reaſonable Enter⯑tainments, while the Scenes of moſt others are like the Tunes between the Acts. They are per⯑haps agreeable Sounds, but they have no Idea's affixed to them. Dogget thanked me for my Vi⯑ſit to him in the Winter, and, after his Comick Manner, ſpoke his Requeſt with ſo arch a Leer, that I promiſed the Drole I would ſpeak to all my Acquaintance to be at his Play.

Whatever the World may think of the Actors, whether it be that their Parts have an Effect on their Lives, or whatever it is, you ſee a wonder⯑ful Benevolence among them towards the Inte⯑reſts and Neceſſities of each other. Dogget there⯑fore would not let me go, without delivering me a Letter from poor old Downes the Prompter, wherein that Retainer to the Theatre deſires my Advice and Aſſiſtance in a Matter of Concern to him. I have ſent him my private Opinion for his Conduct; but the Stage and the State Af⯑fairs being ſo much canvaſſed by Parties and Fa⯑ctions, I ſhall for ſome Time hereafter take Leave [17] of Subjects which relate to either of them, and employ my Care in the Conſideration of Matters which regard that Part of Mankind who live without intereſting themſelves with the Troubles or Pleaſures of either. However, for a meer Notion of the preſent Poſture of the Stage, I ſhall give you the Letter at large as follows:

I Was this Morning reading the Tenth Canto in the Fourth Book of Spencer, in which Sir Scudamore relates the Progreſs of his Courtſhip to Amoret under a very beautiful Allegory, which is one of the moſt natural and unmixed of any in that moſt excellent Author. I ſhall tranſproſe it, to uſe Mr. Bays's Term, for the Benefit of many Engliſh Lovers, who have by frequent Let⯑ters deſired me to lay down ſome Rules for the Conduct of their virtuous Amours; and ſhall [20] only premiſe, That by the Shield of Love, [...] meant a generous, conſtant Paſſion for the Per⯑ſon beloved.

When the Fame, ſays he, of this celebrated Beauty firſt flew Abroad, I went in Purſuit of her to the Temple of Love. This Temple, continues he, bore the Name of the Goddeſs Venus, and was ſeated in a moſt fruitful Iſland, walled by Nature againſt all Invaders. There was a ſingle Bridge that led into the Iſland, and before it a Caſtle garriſon'd by Twenty Knights. Near the Caſtle was an open Plain, and in the midſt of it a Pillar, on which was hung the Shield of Love; and underneath it, in Letters of Gold, was this Inſcription:

My Heart panted upon reading the Inſcription: I ſtruck upon the Shield with my Spear. Imme⯑diately iſſued forth a Knight well mounted, and compleatly armed, who, without ſpeaking, ran fiercely at me. I received him as well as I could, and by good Fortune threw him out of the Sad⯑dle. I encountered the whole Twenty ſucceſ⯑ſively, and leaving them all extended on the Plain, carried off the Shield in Token of Victo⯑ry. Having thus vanquiſh'd my Rivals, I paſſed on without Impediment, till I came to the outer⯑moſt Gate of the Bridge, which I found locked and barred. I knocked and called, but could get no Anſwer. At laſt I ſaw one on the other Side of the Gate, who ſtood peeping through a ſmall Crevice. This was the Porter; he had a double Face reſembling a Janus, and was continually looking about him, as if he miſtruſted ſome ſud⯑den Danger. His Name, as I afterwards learn⯑ed, was Doubt. Over-againſt him ſat Delay, who entertained Paſſengers with ſome idle Story, while they loſt ſuch Opportunities as were never [21] to be recovered. As ſoon as the Porter ſaw my Shield, he opened the Gate; but upon my en⯑tring, Delay caught hold of me, and would fain have made me liſten to her Fooleries. However, I ſhook her off, and paſſed forward till I came to the Second Gate, The Gate of good Deſert, which always ſtood wide open, but in the Porch was an hideous Giant, that ſtop'd the Entrance: His Name was Danger. Many Warriors of good Reputation, not able to bear the Sternneſs of his Look, went back again. Cowards fled at the firſt Sight of him, except ſome few, who watch⯑ing their Opportunity, ſlipt by him unobſerv'd. I prepared to aſſault him; but upon the firſt Sight of my Shield, he immediately gave Way. Look⯑ing back upon him, I found his hinder Parts much more deformed and terrible than his Face; Hatred, Murther, Treaſon, Envy, and Detraction, lying in Ambuſh behind him, to fall upon the Heedleſs and Unwary.

I now entered The Iſland of Love, which ap⯑peared in all the Beauties of Art and Nature, and feaſted every Senſe with the moſt agreeable Objects. Amidſt a pleaſing Variety of Walks and Allies, ſhady Seats, and flowry Banks, ſun⯑ny Hills, and gloomy Valleys, were Thouſands of Lovers ſitting, or walking together in Pairs, and ſinging Hymns to the Deity of the Place.

I could not forbear envying this happy People, who were already in Poſſeſſion of all they could deſire. While I went forward to the Temple, the Structure was beautiful beyond Imagination. The Gate ſtood open. In the Entrance ſat a moſt amiable Woman, whoſe Name was Concord.

On either Side of her ſtood Two young Men, both ſtrongly armed, as if afraid of each other. As I afterwards learned they were both her Sons, but begotten of her by Two different Fathers; their Names, Love and Hatred.

[22] The Lady ſo well tempered and reconciled them both, that ſhe forced them to join Hands, tho' I could not but obſerve, that Hatred turned aſide his Face, as not able to endure the Sight of his younger Brother.

I at length entered the Inmoſt Temple, the Roof of which was raiſed upon an Hundred Marble Pillars, decked with Crowns, Chains, and Garlands. The Ground was ſtrowed with Flowers. An Hundred Altars, at each of which ſtood a Virgin Prieſteſs cloathed in White, blazed all at once with the Sacrifice of Lovers, who were perpetually ſending up their Vows to Hea⯑ven in Clouds of Incenſe.

In the Midſt ſtood the Goddeſs her ſelf, upon an Altar, whoſe Subſtance was neither Gold nor Stone, but infinitely more precious than either. About her Neck flew numberleſs Flocks of little Loves, Joys, and Graces; and all about her Altar lay ſcattered Heaps of Lovers, complaining of the Diſdain, Pride, or Treachery, of their Miſtreſſes. One among the reſt, no longer able to contain his Griefs, broke out into the following Prayer: ‘'Venus, Queen of Grace and Beauty, Joy of Gods and Men, who with a Smile becalmeſt the Seas, and reneweſt all Nature; Goddeſs, whom all the different Species in the Univerſe obey with Joy and Pleaſure, grant I may at laſt obtain the Object of my Vows.'’

The impatient Lover pronounced this with great Vehemence; but I in a ſoft Murmur be⯑ſought the Goddeſs to lend me her Aſſiſtance. While I was thus praying, I chanced to caſt my Eye on a Company of Ladies, who were aſſem⯑bled together in a Corner of the Temple waiting for the Anthem.

The foremoſt ſeemed ſomething elder, and of a more compoſed Countenance than the reſt, who all appeared to be under her Direction. Her Name was Womanhood. On one Side of her ſat [23] Shamefacedneſs, with Bluſhes riſing in her Cheeks, and her Eyes fixed upon the Ground: On the o⯑ther was Chearfulneſs, with a ſmiling Look, that infuſed a ſecret Pleaſure into the Hearts of all that ſaw her. With theſe ſat Modeſty, holding her Hand on her Heart; Courteſie, with a grace⯑ful Aſpect, and obliging Behaviour; and the Two Siſters, who were always linked together, and reſembled each other, Silence and Obedience.

As ſoon as I beheld the charming Amoret, my Heart throbbed with Hopes. I ſtepped to her, and ſeized her Hand; when Womanhood imme⯑diately riſing up, ſharply rebuked me for offer⯑ing in ſo rude a Manner to lay hold on a Virgin. I excuſed my ſelf as modeſtly as I could, and at the ſame Time diſplayed my Shield; upon which, as ſoon as ſhe beheld the God emblazoned with his Bow and Shafts, ſhe was ſtruck mute, and inſtantly retired.

I ſtill held faſt the fair Amoret, and turning my Eyes towards the Goddeſs of the Place, ſaw that ſhe favoured my Pretenſions with a Smile, which ſo emboldened me, that I carried off my Prize.

The Maid, ſometimes with Tears, ſometimes with Smiles, entreated me to let her go: But I led her through the Temple-Gate, where the Goddeſs Concord, who had favoured my Entrance, befriended my Retreat.

[24] This Allegory is ſo natural, that it explains it ſelf. The Perſons in it are very artfully deſcri⯑bed, and diſpoſed in proper Places. The Poſts aſſigned to Doubt, Delay, and Danger, are admi⯑rable. The Gate of Good Deſert has ſomething noble and inſtructive in it. But above all, I am moſt pleaſed with the beautiful Grouppe of Fi⯑gures in the Corner of the Temple. Among theſe, Womanhood is drawn like what the Philo⯑ſophers call an Univerſal Nature, and is attended with beautiful Repreſentatives of all thoſe Vir⯑tues that are the Ornaments of the Female Sex, conſidered in its natural Perfection and Inno⯑cence.

THE Learned World are very much offend⯑ed at many of my Ratiocinations, and have but a very mean Opinion of me as a Politician. The Reaſon of this is, That ſome erroneouſly conceive a Talent for Politicks to conſiſt in the Regard to a Man's own Intereſt; but I am of quite another Mind, and think the firſt and eſſen⯑tial Quality towards being a Stateſman is to have a publick Spirit. One of the Gentlemen who are out of Humour with me, imputes my falling into a Way wherein I am ſo very aukward to a Barrenneſs of Invention, and has the Charity to lay new Matter before me for the future. He is at the Bottom my Friend, but is at a Loſs to know whether I am a Fool or a Phyſician, and is pleaſed to expoſtulate with me with Relation to the latter. He falls heavy upon Licentiates, and ſeems to point more particularly at us who are [25] not regularly of the Faculty. But ſince he has been ſo civil to me as to meddle only with thoſe who are employed no further than about Men's Lives, and not reflected upon me as of the Aſtro⯑logical Sect, who concern our ſelves about Lives and Fortunes alſo, I am not ſo much hurt as to ſtifle any Part of his fond Letter.

This Gentleman and I differ about the Words, Staggering and Better Part; but inſtead of an⯑ſwering to the Particulars of this Epiſtle, I ſhall only acquaint my Correſpondent, That I am at preſent forming my Thoughts upon the Founda⯑tion of Sir Scudamore's Progreſs in Spencer, which has led me from all other Amuſements, to conſi⯑der the State of Love in this Iſland; and from the Corruptions in the Government of that, to deduce the chief Evils of Life. In the mean Time that I am thus employed, I have given po⯑ſitive Orders to Don Saltero of Chelſea the Tooth-Drawer, and Dr. Thomas Smith the Corn-Cutter of King-ſtreet, Weſtminſter, (who have the Mo⯑deſty [27] to confine their Pretenſions to Manual Ope⯑rations) to bring me in, with all convenient Speed, compleat Liſts of all who are but of equal Learning with themſelves, and yet adminiſter Phyſick beyond the Feet and Gums. Theſe Ad⯑vices I ſhall reſerve for my future Leiſure; but have now taken a Reſolution to dedicate the re⯑maining Part of this Inſtant July to the Service of the Fair Sex, and have almoſt finiſhed a Scheme for ſettling the whole Remainder of that Sex who are unmarried, and above the Age of Twen⯑ty five.

In order to this good and publick Service, I ſhall conſider the Paſſion of Love in its full Ex⯑tent, as it is attended both with Joys and Inquie⯑tudes; and lay down, for the Conduct of my Lovers, ſuch Rules as ſhall baniſh the Cares, and heighten the Pleaſures, which flow from that amiable Spring of Life and Happineſs. There is no leſs than an abſolute Neceſſity that ſome Pro⯑viſion be made to take off the dead Stock of Wo⯑men in City, Town, and Country. Let there happen but the leaſt Diſorder in the Streets. and in an Inſtant you ſee the Inequality of the Num⯑bers of Males and Females. Beſides that the Feminine Crowd on ſuch Occaſions is more nu⯑merous in the open Way, you may obſerve them alſo to the very Garrets huddled together, Four at leaſt at a Caſement. Add to this, that by an exact Calculation of all that have come to Town by Stage-Coach or Waggon for this Twelvemonth laſt, Three Times in Four the treated Perſons have been Males. This over-ſtock of Beauty, for which there are ſo few Bidders, calls for an im⯑mediate Supply of Lovers and Husbands; and I am the ſtudious Knight-Errant who have ſuffer'd long Nocturnal Contemplations to find out Me⯑thods for the Relief of all Britiſh Females, who at preſent ſeem to be devoted to involuntary Vir⯑ginity. The Scheme upon which I deſign to act, [28] I have communicated to none but a beauteous young Lady, (who has for ſome Time left the Town) in the following Letter:

THE intended Courſe of my Studies was al⯑tered this Evening by a Viſit from an old Acquaintance, who complained to me, mention⯑ing one upon whom he had long depended, that he found his Labour and Perſeverance in his Pa⯑tron's Service and Intereſts wholly ineffectual; and he thought now, after his beſt Years were ſpent in a profeſſed Adherence to him and his Fortunes, he ſhould in the End be forced to break with him, and give over all further Ex⯑pectations from him. He ſighed, and ended his Diſcourſe, by ſaying, ‘'You, Mr. Cenſor, ſome Time ago, gave us your Thoughts of the Beha⯑viour of great Men to their Creditors.'’ This Sort of Demand upon them, for what they invite Men to expect, is a Debt of Honour, which, ac⯑cording to Cuſtom, they ought to be moſt care⯑ful of paying, and would be a very worthy Sub⯑ject for a Lucubration.

Of all Men living, I think, I am the moſt pro⯑per to treat of this Matter; becauſe in the Cha⯑racter and Employment of Cenſor, I have had Encouragement ſo infinitely above my Deſert, that what I ſay cannot poſſibly be ſuppoſed to ariſe from Peeviſhneſs, or any Diſappointment in that Kind which I my ſelf have met with. When we conſider Patrons and their Clients, thoſe who receive Addreſſes, and thoſe who are [30] addreſſed to, it muſt not be underſtood that the Dependants are ſuch as are worthleſs in their Natures, abandoned to any Vice or Diſhonour, or ſuch as without a Call thruſt themſelves upon Men in Power; nor when we ſay Patrons, do we mean ſuch as have it not in their Power, or have no Obligation to aſſiſt their Friends; but we ſpeak of ſuch Leagues where there are Power and Obligation on the one Part, and Merit and Expectation on the other. Were we to be very particular on this Subject, I take it, that the Di⯑viſion of Patron and Client may include a Third Part of our Nation. The Want of Merit and real Worth will ſtrike out about Ninety nine in the Hundred of theſe, and Want of Ability in the Patron will diſpoſe of as many of that Or⯑der. He who out of meer Vanity to be applied to will take up another's Time and Fortune in his Service, where he has no Proſpect of returning it, is as much more unjuſt as thoſe who took up my Friend the Upholder's Goods without paying him for them. I ſay, he is much more unjuſt, as our Life and Time is more valuable than our Goods and Moveables. Among many whom you ſee about the Great, there is a contented well⯑pleaſed Set, who ſeem to like the Attendance for its own Sake, and are early at the Abodes of the powerful, out of meer Faſhion. This Sort of Vanity is as well grounded, as if a Man ſhould lay aſide his own plain Suit, and dreſs himſelf up in a gay Livery of anothers.

There are many of this Species who exclude others of juſt Expectation, and make thoſe pro⯑per Dependants appear impatient, becauſe they are not ſo chearful as thoſe who expect nothing. I have made uſe of the Penny-Poſt for the In⯑ſtruction of theſe voluntary Slaves, and informed them, that they will never be provided for; but they double their Diligence upon Admonition. Will Afterday has told his Friends, that he was [31] to have the next Thing theſe Ten Years; and Harry Linger has been Fourteen within a Month of a conſiderable Office. However, the fanta⯑ſtick Complaiſance which is paid to them may blind the Great from ſeeing themſelves in a juſt Light, they muſt needs (if they in the leaſt re⯑flect) at ſome Times have a Senſe of the Injuſtice they do in raiſing in others a falſe Expectation. But this is ſo common a Practice in all the Stages of Power, that there are not more Cripples come out of the Wars, than from the Attendance of Patrons. You ſee in one a ſettled Melancholy, in another a bridled Rage, a Third has loſt his Memory, and a Fourth his whole Conſtitution and Humour. In a Word, when you ſee a par⯑ticular Caſt of Mind or Body, which looks a lit⯑tle upon the Diſtracted, you may be ſure the poor Gentleman has formerly had great Friends. For this Reaſon, I have thought it a prudent Thing to take a Nephew of mine out of a Ladies Service, where he was a Page, and have bound him to a Shoemaker.

But what of all the Humours under the Sun is the moſt pleaſant to conſider, is, That you ſee ſome Men lay as it were a Set of Acquaintance by them, to converſe with when they are out of Employment, who had no Effect of their Power when they were in. Here Patrons and Clients both make the moſt fantaſtical Figure imagina⯑ble. Friendſhip indeed is moſt manifeſted in Adverſity; but I do not know how to behave my ſelf to a Man who thinks me his Friend at no other Time but that. Dick Reptile of our Club had this in his Head t'other Night, when he ſaid, I am afraid of ill News when I am viſited by any of my old Friends. Theſe Patrons are a little like ſome fine Gentlemen, who ſpend all their Hours of Gaiety with their Wenches, but when they fall ſick, will let no one come near them but their Wives. It ſeems, Truth and Honour [32] are Companions too ſober for Proſperity. It is certainly the moſt black Ingratitude to accept of a Man's beſt Endeavours to be pleaſing to you, and return it with Indifference.

I am ſo much of this Mind, that Dick Eaſtcourt the Comedian, for coming one Night to our Club, tho' he laughed at us all the Time he was there, ſhall have our Company at his Play on Thurſday. A Man of Talents is to be favoured, or never admitted. Let the ordinary World truck for Money and Wares, but Men of Spirit and Converſation ſhould in every Kind do others as much Pleaſure as they receive from them. But Men are ſo taken up with outward Forms, that they do not conſider their Actions; elſe how ſhould it be, that a Man ſhall deny that to the Entreaties and almoſt Tears of an old Friend, which he ſhall ſolicit a new one to accept of? I remember, when I firſt came out of Staffordſhire, I had an Intimacy with a Man of Quality, in whoſe Gift there fell a very good Employment. All the Town cry'd, There's a Thing for Mr. Bick⯑erſtaff! When, to my great Aſtoniſhment, I found my Patron had been forced upon Twenty Artifices to ſurprize a Man with it who never thought of it: But ſure it is a Degree of Murder to amuſe Men with vain Hopes. If a Man takes away another's Life, where is the Difference, whether he does it by taking away the Minutes of his Time, or the Drops of his Blood? But in⯑deed, ſuch as have Hearts barren of Kindneſs are ſerved accordingly by thoſe whom they employ, and paſs their Lives away with an empty Shew of Civility for Love, and an inſipid Intercourſe of a Commerce in which their Affections are no way concerned. But on the other Side, How beauti⯑ful is the Life of a Patron who performs his Du⯑ty to his Inferiors? A worthy Merchant, who employs a Crowd of Artificers? A great Lord, who is generous and merciful to the ſeveral Ne⯑ceſſities [33] of his Tenants? A Courtier, who uſes his Credit and Power for the Welfare of his Friends? Theſe have in their ſeveral Stations a quick Reliſh of the exquiſite Pleaſure of doing Good. In a Word, good Patrons are like the Guardian Angels of Plato, who are ever buſy, though unſeen, in the Care of their Wards; but ill Patrons are like the Deities of Epicurus, ſu⯑pine, indolent, and unconcerned, though they ſee Mortals in Storms and Tempeſts even while they are offering Incenſe to their Power.

WHEN I came hither this Evening, the Man of the Houſe delivered me a Book very finely bound. When I received it, I over⯑heard one of the Boys whiſper another, and ſay, It was a fine Thing to be a great Scholar! What a pretty Book that is! It has indeed a very gay Outſide, and is dedicated to me by a very inge⯑nious Gentleman, who does not put his Name to it. The Title of it (for the Work is in Latin) is, Epiſtolarum Obſcurorum Virorum, ad Dm. M. Or⯑tuinum Gratium, Volumina II. &c. "The Epi⯑ſtles of the Obſcure Writers to Ortuinus, &c." The Purpoſe of the Work is ſignified in the Dedi⯑cation, in very elegant Language, and fine Rail⯑lery. It ſeems, this is a Collection of Letters which ſome profound Blockheads, who lived be⯑fore our Times, have written in Honour of each [34] other, and for their mutual Information in each others Abſurdities. They are moſtly of the Ger⯑man Nation, whence from Time to Time Inun⯑dations of Writers have flow'd, more pernicious to the Learned World than the Swarms of Goths and Vandals to the Politick. It is, methinks, wonderful, that Fellows could be awake, and utter ſuch incoherent Conceptions, and converſe with great Gravity like learned Men, without the leaſt Taſt of Knowledge or good Senſe. It would have been an endleſs Labour to have ta⯑ken any other Method of expoſing ſuch Imperti⯑nencies, than by an Edition of their own Works, where you ſee their Follies, according to the Am⯑bition of ſuch Virtuoſi, in a moſt correct Edition.

Looking over theſe accompliſh'd Labours, I could not but reflect upon the immenſe Load of Writings which the Commonalty of Scholars have puſhed into the World, and the Abſurdity of Parents, who educate Crowds to ſpend their Time in Purſuit of ſuch cold and ſprightleſs En⯑deavours to appear in Publick. It ſeems there⯑fore a fruitleſs Labour to attempt the Correction of the Taſt of our Contemporaries, except it was in our Power to burn all the ſenſeleſs La⯑bours of our Anceſtors. There is a ſecret Pro⯑penſity in Nature from Generation to Generation in the Blockheads of one Age to admire thoſe of another; and Men of the ſame Imperfections are as great Admirers of each other, as thoſe of the ſame Abilities.

This great Miſchief of voluminous Follies pro⯑ceeds from a Misfortune which happens in all Ages, that Men of barren Genius's, but fertile Imaginations, are bred Scholars. This may at firſt appear a Paradox; but when we conſider the talking Creatures we meet in publick Places, it will no longer be ſuch. Ralph Shallow is a young Fellow, that has not by Nature any the leaſt Pro⯑penſity to ſtrike into what has not been obſerved [35] and ſaid every Day of his Life by others; but with that Inability of ſpeaking any Thing that is uncommon, he has a great Readineſs at what he can ſpeak of, and his Imagination runs into all the different Views of the Subject he treats of in a Moment. If Ralph had Learning added to the common Chit-Chat of the Town, he would have been a Diſputant upon all Topicks that ever were conſidered by Men of his own Genius. As for my Part, I never am teazed by an empty Town-Fellow, but I bleſs my Stars that he was not bred a Scholar. This Addition, we muſt conſider, would have made him capable of maintaining his Follies. His being in the Wrong would have been protected by ſuitable Arguments; and when he was hedged in by Logical Terms, and falſe Appearances, you muſt have owned your ſelf convinced before you could then have got rid of him, and the Shame of his Triumph had been ad⯑ded to the Pain of his Impertinence.

There is a Sort of Littleneſs in the Minds of Men of wrong Senſe, which makes them much more inſufferable than meer Fools, and has the further Inconvenience of being attended by an endleſs Loquacity. For which Reaſon, it would be a very proper Work, if ſome Well-wiſher to humane Society would conſider the Terms upon which People meet in publick Places, in order to prevent the unſeaſonable Declamations which we meet with there. I remember, in my Youth it was an Humour at the Univerſity, when a Fel⯑low pretended to be more eloquent than ordinary, and had formed to himſelf a Plot to gain all our Admiration, or triumph over us with an Argu⯑ment, to either of which he had no Manner of Call; I ſay, in either of theſe Caſes, it was the Humour to ſhut one Eye. This whimſical Way of taking Notice to him of his Abſurdity, has prevented many a Man from being a Coxcomb. If amongſt us, on ſuch an Occaſion each Man of⯑fered [36] a voluntary Rhetorician ſome Snuff, it would probably produce the ſame Effect. As the Matter now ſtands, whether a Man will or no, he is obliged to be informed in whatever another pleaſes to entertain him with, tho' the Preceptor makes theſe Advances out of Vanity, and not to inſtruct, but inſult him.

There is no Man will allow him who wants Courage to be called a Soldier; but Men who want good Senſe, are very frequently not only al⯑lowed to be Scholars, but eſteemed for being ſuch. At the ſame Time it muſt be granted, that as Courage is the natural Parts of a Soldier, ſo is a good Underſtanding of a Scholar. Such little Minds as theſe, whoſe Productions are collected in the Volume to which I have the Honour to be Patron, are the Inſtruments for artful Men to work with, and become popular with the un⯑thinking Part of Mankind. In Courts, they make tranſparent Flatterers; in Camps, oſtentatious Bullies; in Colleges, unintelligible Pedants; and their Faculties are uſed accordingly by thoſe who lead them.

When a Man who wants Judgment is admitted into the Converſation of reaſonable Men, he ſhall remember ſuch improper Circumſtances, and draw ſuch groundleſs Concluſions from their Diſcourſe, and that with ſuch Colour of Senſe, as would divide the beſt Set of Company that can be got together. It is juſt thus with a Fool who has a Familiarity with Books, he ſhall quote and recite one Author againſt another, in ſuch a Man⯑ner as ſhall puzzle the beſt Underſtanding to re⯑fute him; tho' the moſt ordinary Capacity may ob⯑ſerve, that it is only Ignorance which makes the Intricacy. All the true Uſe of that we call Learn⯑ing, is to ennoble and improve our natural Fa⯑culties, and not to diſguiſe our Imperfections. It is therefore in vain for Folly to attempt to conceal it ſelf by the Refuge of Learned Languages. Li⯑terature [37] does but make a Man more eminently the Thing which Nature made him; and Poly⯑glottes, had he ſtudied leſs than he has, and writ only in his Mother Tongue, had been known on⯑ly in Great Britain for a Pedant.

The Hiſtory of Caelia.

IT is not neceſſary to look back into the Firſt Years of this young Lady, whoſe Story is of Conſequence only as her Life has lately met with Paſſages very uncommon. She is now in the Twentieth Year of her Age, and owes a ſtrict, but chearful Education, to the Care of an Aunt, to whom ſhe was recommended by her dying Fa⯑ther, whoſe Deceaſe was haſtened by an incon⯑ſolable Affliction for the Loſs of her Mother. As Caelia is the Offspring of the moſt generous Paſ⯑ſion that has been known in our Age, ſhe is adorned with as much Beauty and Grace as the moſt celebrated of her Sex poſſeſs; but her Do⯑meſtick Life, moderate Fortune, and religious Educaiton, gave her but little Opportunity, and leſs Inclination, to be admired in publick Aſſem⯑blies. Her Abode has been for ſome Years a con⯑venient Diſtance from the Cathedral of St. Paul's, [38] where her Aunt and ſhe choſe to reſide, for the Advantage of that rapturous Way of Devotion which gives Extaſy to the Pleaſures of Innocence, and, in ſome Meaſure, is the immediate Poſſeſ⯑ſion of thoſe Heavenly Enjoyments for which they are addreſſed.

As you may trace the uſual Thoughts of Men in their Countenances, there appeared in the Face of Caelia a Chearfulneſs, the conſtant Companion of unaffected Virtue; and a Gladneſs, which is as inſeparable from true Piety. Her every Look and Motion ſpoke the peaceful, mild, reſigning, humble Inhabitant, that animated her beauteous Body. Her Air diſcovered her Body a meer Ma⯑chine of her Mind, and not that her Thoughts were employed in ſtudying Graces and Attractions for her Perſon. Such was Caelia when ſhe was firſt ſeen by Palamede at her uſual Place of Wor⯑ſhip. Palamede is a young Man of Two and twenty, well-faſhioned, learned, genteel, and diſ⯑creet, the Son and Heir of a Gentleman of a very great Eſtate, and himſelf poſſeſſed of a plenti⯑ful one by the Gift of an Unkle. He became enamoured with Caelia, and after having learned her Habitation, had Addreſs enough to commu⯑nicate his Paſſion and Circumſtances with ſuch an Air of good Senſe and Integrity, as ſoon obtain'd Permiſſion to viſit and profeſs his Inclinations to⯑wards her. Palamede's preſent Fortune and fu⯑ture Expectations were no Way prejudicial to his Addreſſes; but after the Lovers had paſſed ſome Time in the agreeable Entertainments of a ſuc⯑ceſsful Courtſhip, Caelia one Day took Occaſion to interrupt Palamede in the Midſt of a very plea⯑ſing Diſcourſe of the Happineſs he promiſed him⯑ſelf in ſo accompliſhed a Companion, and aſ⯑ſuming a ſerious Air, told him, there was another Heart to be won before he gained hers, which was that of his Father. Palamede ſeemed much diſturbed at the Overture, and lamented to her, [39] That his Father was one of thoſe too provident Pa⯑rents, who only place their Thoughts upon bring⯑ing Riches into their Families by Marriages, and are wholly inſenſible of all other Conſiderations. But the Strictneſs of Caelia's Rules of Life made her inſiſt upon this Demand; and the Son, at a proper Hour, communicated to his Father the Circumſtances of his Love, and the Merit of the Object. The next Day the Father made her a Viſit. The Beauty of her Perſon, the Fame of her Virtue, and a certain irreſiſtible Charm in her whole Behaviour on ſo tender and delicate an Oc⯑caſion, wrought ſo much upon him, in Spight of all Prepoſſeſſions, that he haſtened the Marriage with an Impatience equal to that of his Son. Their Nuptials were celebrated with a Privacy ſuitable to the Character and Modeſty of Caelia, and from that Day, till a fatal one of laſt Week, they lived together with all the Joy and Happi⯑neſs which attend Minds entirely united.

It ſhould have been intimated, That Palamede is a Student of the Temple, and uſually retired thi⯑ther early in a Morning, Caelia ſtill ſleeping.

It happened a few Days ſince, that ſhe followed him thither to communicate to him ſomething ſhe had omitted in her redundant Fondneſs to ſpeak of the Evening before. When ſhe came to his Apart⯑ment, the Servant there told her, ſhe was coming with a Letter to her. While Caelia in an Inner Room was reading an Apology from her Husband, That he had been ſuddenly taken by ſome of his Acquaintance to dine at Brentford, but that he ſhould return in the Evening, a Country Girl, de⯑cently clad, asked, If thoſe were not the Cham⯑bers of Mr. Palamede? She was anſwered, They were, but that he was not in Town. The Stranger asked, When he was expected at Home? The Ser⯑vant replied, She would go in and ask his Wife. The young Woman repeated the Word Wife, and fainted. This Accident rais'd no leſs Curioſity [40] when Amazement in Caelia, who cauſed her to be removed into the Inner Room. Upon proper Ap⯑plications to revive her, the unhappy young Crea⯑ture returned to her ſelf, and ſaid to Caelia, with an earneſt and beſeeching Tone, Are you really Mr. Palamede's Wife? Caelia replies, I hope I do not look as if I were any other in the Condition you ſee me. The Stranger anſwers, No, Madam, he is my Husband. At the ſame Inſtant ſhe threw a Bundle of Letters into Caelia's Lap, which con⯑firmed the Truth of what ſhe aſſerted. Their mu⯑tual Innocence and Sorrow made them look at each other as Partners in Diſtreſs, rather than Rivals in Love. The Superiority of Caelia's Un⯑derſtanding and Genius gave her an Authority to examine into this Adventure as if ſhe had been offended againſt, and the other the Delinquent. The Stranger ſpoke in the following Manner:

Caelia had no more Room for Doubt, but left her Rival in the ſame Agonies ſhe felt her ſelf. Palamede returns in the Evening, and finding his Wife at his Chambers, learned all that had paſ⯑ſed, and haſtened to Caelia's Lodgings.

It is much eaſier to imagine than expreſs the Sentiments of either the Criminal or the Injured at this Encounter.

Aſſoon as Palamede had found Way for Speech, he confeſſed his Marriage, and his placing his Companion on Purpoſe to vitiate his Wife, that he might break through a Marriage made in his Nonage, and devote his riper and knowing Years to Caelia. She made him no Anſwer; but retired to her Cloſet. He returned to the Temple, where he ſoon after received from her the following Letter:

WHEN we revolve in our Thoughts ſuch Cataſtrophes as that in the Hiſtory of the unhappy Caelia, there ſeems to be ſomething ſo hazardous in the changing a ſingle State of Life into that of Marriage, that (it may happen) all the Precautions imaginable are not ſufficient to defend a Virgin from Ruin by her Choice. It ſeems a wonderful Inconſiſtence in the Diſtribu⯑tion of publick Juſtice, that a Man who robs a Woman of an Ear-ring or a Jewel, ſhould be pu⯑niſhed with Death; but one who by falſe Arts and Inſinuations ſhould take from her her very ſelf, is only to ſuffer Diſgrace. This excellent young Woman has nothing to conſolate her ſelf with, but the Reflection that her Sufferings are not the Effect of any Guilt or Miſconduct, and has for her Protection the Influence of a Power which, amidſt the unjuſt Reproach of all Mankind, can give not only Patience, but Pleaſure to Innocence in Diſtreſs.

As the Perſon who is the Criminal againſt Caelia cannot be ſufficiently puniſhed according to our preſent Law, ſo are there numberleſs unhappy Perſons without Remedy according to preſent Cuſtom. That great Ill which has prevailed a⯑mong us in theſe latter Ages, is the making even Beauty and Virtue the Purchaſe of Money. The Generality of Parents, and ſome of thoſe of Qua⯑lity, inſtead of looking out for introducing Health of Conſtitution, Frankneſs of Spirit, or Dignity of Countenance, into their Families, lay out all their Thoughts upon finding out Marches for their Eſtates, and not their Children. You ſhall have [43] one form a Plot for the Good of his Family, that there ſhall not be Six Men in England capable of pretending to his Daughter. A Second ſhall have a Son obliged, out of meer Diſcretion, for fear of doing any Thing below himſelf, follow all the Drabs in Town. Theſe ſage Parents meet; and as there is no Paſs, no Courtſhip, between the young Ones, it is no unpleaſant Obſervation to behold how they proceed to Treaty. There is ever in the Behaviour of each ſomething that denotes his Cir⯑cumſtance; and honeſt Coupler the Conveniencer ſays, he can diſtinguiſh upon Sight of the Parties, before they have opened any Point of their Buſi⯑neſs, which of the Two has the Daughter to ſell. Coupler is of our Club, and I have frequently heard him declaim upon this Subject, and aſſert, that the Marriage-Settlements which are now uſed have grown faſhionable even within his Memory.

When the Theatre in ſome late Reigns owed its chief Support to thoſe Scenes which were written to put Matrimony out of Countenance, and render that State terrible, then was it that Pin-Money firſt prevailed, and all the other Articles inſerted which create a Diffidence; and intimate to the young People, that they are very ſoon to be in a State of War with each other: Tho' this had ſel⯑dom happened, except the Fear of it had been ex⯑preſſed. Coupler will tell you alſo, that Jointures were never frequent till the Age before his own; but the Women were contented with the Third Part of the Eſtate the Law allotted them, and ſcorned to engage with Men whom they thought capable of abuſing their Children. He has alſo in⯑formed me, that thoſe who were the oldeſt Bench⯑ers when he came to the Temple told him, the firſt Marriage-Settlement of conſiderable Length was the Invention of an old Serjeant, who took the Opportunity of Two Teſty Fathers, who were ever ſquabbling to bring about an Alliance be⯑tween their Children. Theſe Fellows knew each [44] other to be Knaves, and the Serjeant took hold of their mutual Diffidence, for the Benefit of the Law, to extend the Settlement to Three Skins of Parchment.

To this great Benefactor to the Profeſſion is ow⯑ing the preſent Price Current of Lines and Words. Thus is Tenderneſs thrown out of the Queſtion; and the great Care is, What the young Couple ſhall do when they come to hate each other? I do not queſtion but from this one Humour of Settle⯑ments, might very fairly be deduced not only our preſent Defection in Point of Morals, but alſo our Want of People. This has given Way to ſuch un⯑reaſonable Gallantries, that a Man is hardly re⯑proachable that deceives an innocent Woman, tho' ſhe has never ſo much Merit, if ſhe is below him in Fortune. The Man has no Diſhonour fol⯑lowing his Treachery; and her own Sex are ſo debaſed by Force of Cuſtom, as to ſay in the Caſe of the Woman, How could ſhe expect he would marry her?

By this Means the good Offices, the Pleaſures and Graces of Life, are not put into the Ballance: The Bridegroom has given his Eſtate out of him⯑ſelf and he has no more left but to follow the blind Decree of his Fate, whether he ſhall be ſucceeded by a Sot, or a Man of Merit, in his Fortune. On the other Side, a fine Woman, who has alſo a Fortune, is ſet up by Way of Auction; her firſt Lover has Ten to One againſt him. The very Hour after he has opened his Heart and his Rent-Roll, he is made no other Uſe of, but to raiſe her Price. She and her Friends loſe no Opportunity of pub⯑liſhing it to call in new Bidders. While the poor Lover very innocently waits till the Plenipoten⯑tiaries at the Inns of Court have debated about the Alliance, all the Partiſans of the Lady throw Difficulties in the Way, till other Offers come in; and the Man who came firſt is not put in Poſſeſ⯑ſion, till ſhe has been refuſed by half the Town. [45] If an Abhorrence to ſuch mercenary Proceedings were well ſettled in the Minds of my Fair Read⯑ers, thoſe of Merit would have a Way opened to their Advancement: nay, thoſe who abound in Wealth only, would in Reality find their Account in it. It would not be in the Power of their Prude Acquaintance, their Waiters, their Nurſes, Couſins and Whiſperers, to perſwade them, that there are not above Twenty Men in a Kingdom, (and thoſe ſuch as perhaps they may never ſet Eyes on) whom they can think of with Diſcre⯑tion. As the Caſe ſtands now, let any one conſi⯑der, how the great Heireſſes, and thoſe to whom they were offered, for no other Reaſon but that they could make them ſuitable Settlements, live together. What can be more inſipid, if not loath⯑ſome, than for Two Perſons to be at the Head of a Crowd, who have as little Regard for them as they for each other, and behold one another in an affected Senſe of Proſperity, without the leaſt Re⯑liſh of that exquiſite Gladneſs at meeting, that ſweet Inquietude at parting, together with the Charms of Voice, Look, Geſture, and that general Benevolence between well choſen Lovers, which makes all Things pleaſe, and leaves not the leaſt Trifle indifferent.

But I am diverted from theſe Sketches for fu⯑ture Eſſays, in Behalf of my numerous Clients of the Fair Sex, by a Notice ſent to my Office in Sheer-Lane, That a blooming Widow, in the Third Year of her Widowhood, and Twenty ſix of her Age, deſigns to take a Colonel of Twenty eight. The Parties requeſt I would draw up their Terms of coming together, as having a Regard to my Opinion againſt long and diffident Settle⯑ments; and I have ſens them the following In⯑denture:

HAving devoted the greater Part of my Time to the Service of the Fair Sex, I muſt ask Pardon of my Men Correſpondents if I poſtpone their Commands, when I have any from the La⯑dies which lie unanſwered. That which follows is of Importance.

The Reſolution which this Lady is going to take, ſhe may very well ſay is founded on Rea⯑ſon: For after the Neceſſities of Life are ſerved, there is no manner of Competition between a Man of Liberal Education and an Illiterate. Men are not altered by their Circumſtances, but as they give them Opportunities of exerting what they are in themſelves; and a powerful Clown is a Tyrant in the moſt ugly Form he can poſſibly appear. There lies a ſeeming Objection in the thoughtful Manner of Philander: But let her conſider which ſhe ſhall oftener have Occaſion to wiſh, that Philander would ſpeak, or Silvius hold his Tongue.

The Train of my Diſcourſe is prevented by the urgent Haſt of another Correſpondent.

[49] In this important Affair, I have not neglected the Propoſals of others. Among them is the fol⯑lowing Sketch of a Lottery for Perſons. The Au⯑thor of it has propoſed very ample Encourage⯑ment, not only to my ſelf, but alſo to Charles Lil⯑lie and John Morphew. If the Matter bears, I ſhall not be unjuſt to his Merit: I only deſire to enlarge his Plan; for which Purpoſe I lay it before the Town, as well for the Improvement as Encourage⯑ment of it.

IT has been often aſſerted in theſe Papers, That the great Source of our wrong Purſuits is the impertinent Manner with which we treat Women, both in the common and important Circumſtan⯑ces of Life. In vain do we ſay, the whole Sex would run into England, while the Privileges which are allowed them, do no way ballance the [51] Inconveniencies ariſing from thoſe very Immuni⯑ties. Our Women have very much indulged to them in the Participation of our Fortunes and our Liberty; but the Errors they commit in the Uſe of either, are by no means ſo impartially conſi⯑dered, as the falſe Steps which are made by Men. In the Commerce of Lovers, the Man makes the Addreſs, aſſails, and betrays, and yet ſtands in the ſame Degree of Acceptance as he was in before he committed that Treachery: The Woman, for no other Crime but believing one whom ſhe thought loved her, is treated with Shineſs and In⯑difference at the beſt, and commonly with Re⯑proach and Scorn. He that is paſt the Power of Beauty, may talk of this Matter with the ſame Unconcern as of any other Subject: Therefore I ſhall take upon me to conſider the Sex, as they live within Rules, and as they tranſgreſs them. The ordinary Claſs of the Good or the Ill have very little Influence upon the Actions of others; but the Eminent in either Kind are thoſe who lead the World below them. The Ill are employed in communicating Scandal, Infamy, and Diſeaſe, like Furies; the Good diſtribute Benevolence, Friend⯑ſhip, and Health, like Angels. The Ill are damped with Pain and Anguiſh at the Sight of all that is laudable, lovely, or happy. The Virtuous are touched with Commiſeration toward the Guilty, the Diſagreeable, and the Wretched. There are thoſe who betray the Innocent of their own Sex, and ſollicit the Lewd of ours. There are thoſe who have abandoned the very Memory, not only of Innocence, but Shame. There are thoſe who never forgave, nor could ever bear being forgi⯑ven. There are alſo who viſit the Beds of the Sick, lull the Cares of the Sorrowful, and double the Joys of the Joyful. Such is the deſtroying Fiend, ſuch the Guardian Angel, Woman.

[52] The Way to have a greater Number of the ami⯑able Part of Womankind, and leſſen the Crowd of the other Sort, is to contribute what we can to the Succeſs of well-grounded Paſſions; and there⯑fore I comply with the Requeſt of an enamoured Man in inſerting the following Billet:

If the next Letter which preſents it ſelf ſhould come from the Miſtreſs of this modeſt Lover, and I make them break through the Oppreſſion of their Paſſions, I ſhall expect Gloves at their Nuptials.

Before I withdraw from Buſineſs for the Night, it is my Cuſtom to receive all Addreſſes to me, that others may go to Reſt as well as my ſelf, at leaſt as far as I can contribute to it. When I cal⯑led to know if any would ſpeak with me, I was informed that Mr. Mills, the Player, deſired to be admitted. He was ſo, and with much Modeſty acquainted me, as he did other People of Note, that Hamlet was to be acted on Wedneſday next for his Benefit. I had long wanted to ſpeak with this Perſon, becauſe I thought I could admoniſh him of many Things which would tend to his Improvement. In the General I obſerved to him, That though Action was his Buſineſs, the Way to that Action was not to ſtudy Geſture, for the Behaviour would follow the Sentiments of the Mind.

Action to the Player, is what Speech is to an Orator. If the Matter be well conceived, Words will flow with Eaſe: And if the Actor is well poſſeſſed of the Nature of his Part, a proper Action will neceſſarily follow. He informed me, That Wilks was to act Hamlet, I deſired him, to requeſt of him in my Name, That he would wholly for⯑get Mr. Betterton; for that he failed in no Part of Othello, but where he had him in View. An Actor's forming himſelf by the Carriage of ano⯑ther, is like the Trick among the Widows, who lament their Husbands as their Neighbours did theirs, and not according to their own Sentiments of the Deceaſed.

There is a Fault alſo in the Audience which in⯑terrupts their Satisfaction very much, that is, the figuring to themſelves the Actor in ſome Part wherein they formerly particularly liked him, and not attending to the Part he is at that Time performing. Thus, whatever Wilks, (who is [54] the ſtricteſt Follower of Nature) is acting, the vulgar Spectators turn their Thoughts upon Sir Harry Wildair. When I had indulged the Lo⯑quacity of an old Man for ſome Time in ſuch looſe Hints, I took my Leave of Mr. Mills, and was told, Mr. Elliot of St. James's Coffee-houſe would ſpeak with me. His Buſineſs was to deſire I would, as I am an Aſtrologer, let him know be⯑fore-hand who were to have the Benefit-Tickets in the enſuing Lottery; which Knowledge he was of Opinion he could turn to great Account, as he was concerned in News.

I granted his Requeſt, upon an Oath of Secrecy, That he would only make his own Uſe of it, and not let it be publickly known till after they were drawn. I had not done ſpeaking, when he pro⯑duced to me a Plan which he had formed of keep⯑ing Books, with the Names of all ſuch Adventu⯑rers, and the Numbers of their Tickets, as ſhould come to him, in order to give an Hourly Account of what Tickets ſhall come up during the whole Time of the Lottery, the Drawing of which is to begin on Wedneſday next. I liked his Method of diſguiſing the Secret I had told him, and pronoun⯑ced him a thriving Man who could ſo well watch the Motion of Things, and profit by a prevailing Humour and Impatience ſo aptly, as to make his honeſt Induſtry agreeable to his Cuſtomers, as it is to be the Meſſenger of their good Fortune.

THIS Afternoon I went to viſit a Gentleman of my Acquaintance at Mile-End, and paſſing through Stepney Church-yard, I could not for⯑bear entertaining my ſelf with the Inſcriptions on the Tombs and Graves. Among others, I ob⯑ſerved one with this notable Memorial:

This fantaſtical Deſire of being remembered only by the Two firſt Letters of a Name, led me into the Contemplation of the Vanity and imperfect Attainments of Ambition in general. When I run back in my Imagination all the Men whom I have ever known and converſed with in my whole Life, there are but very few who have not uſed their Faculties in the Purſuit of what it is impoſſible to acquire, or left the Poſſeſſion of what they might have been (at their ſetting out) Maſters, to ſearch for it where it was out of their Reach. In this Thought it was not poſſible to [56] forget the Inſtance of Pyrrhus, who propoſing to himſelf in Diſcourſe with a Philoſopher, one, and another, and another Conqueſt, was asked, What he would do after all that? Then, ſays the King, we will make merry. He was well an⯑ſwered, What hinders your doing that in the Con⯑dition you are already? The reſtleſs Deſire of ex⯑erting themſelves above the common Level of Mankind is not to be reſiſted in ſome Tempers; and Minds of this Make may be obſerved in every Condition of Life. Where ſuch Men do not make to themſelves or meet with Employment, the Soil of their Conſtitution runs into Tares and Weeds. An old Friend of mine, who loſt a Ma⯑jor's Poſt Forty Years ago, and quitted, has ever ſince ſtudied Maps, Encampments, Retreats, and Countermarches, with no other Deſign but to feed his Spleen and Ill-Humour, and furniſh him⯑ſelf with Matter for arguing againſt all the ſuc⯑ceſsful Actions of others. He that at his firſt ſet⯑ting out in the World was the gayeſt Man in our Regiment, ventured his Life with Alacrity, and enjoyed it with Satisfaction, encouraged Men below him, and was courted by Men above him, has been ever ſince the moſt froward Crea⯑ture breathing. His warm Complexion ſpends it ſelf now only in a general Spirit of Contradiction; for which he watches all Occaſions, and is in his Converſation ſtill upon Sentry, treats all Men like Enemies, with every other Impertinence of a ſpeculative Warrior.

He that obſerves in himſelf this natural Inquie⯑tude, ſhould take all imaginable Care to put his Mind in ſome Method of Gratification, or he will ſoon find himſelf grow into the Condition of this diſappointed Major. Inſtead of courting proper Occaſions to riſe above others, he will be ever ſtudious of pulling others down to him: It being the common Refuge of diſappointed Ambition, to eaſe themſelves by Detraction. It would [57] be no great Argument againſt Ambition, that there are ſuch mortal Things in the Diſap⯑pointment of it; but it certainly is a forcible Ex⯑ception, that there can be no ſolid Happineſs in the Succeſs of it. If we value popular Praiſe, it is in the Power of the meaneſt of the People to diſturb us by Calumny. If the Fame of being happy, we cannot look into a Village but we ſee Crowds in actual Poſſeſſion of what we ſeek only the Appearance. To this may be added, that there is I know not what Malignity in the Minds of ordinary Men to oppoſe you in what they ſee you fond of; and it is a certain Exception againſt a Man's receiving Applauſe, that he viſibly courts it. However this is not only the Paſſion of great and undertaking Spirts, but you ſee it in the Lives of ſuch as one would believe were far enough re⯑moved from the Ways of Ambition. The Rural Squires of this Nation even eat and drink out of Vanity. A vain-glorious Fox-hunter ſhall enter⯑tain half a County for the Oſtentation of his Beef and Beer, without the leaſt Affection for any of the Crowd about him. He feeds them, becauſe he thinks it a Superiority over them that he does ſo; and they devour him, becauſe they know he treats them out of Inſolence. This in⯑deed is Ambition in Groteſque, but may figure to us the Condition of politer Men, whoſe only Pur⯑ſuit is Glory. When the Superior acts out of a Principle of Vanity, the Dependant will be ſure to allow it him; becauſe he knows it deſtructive of the very Applauſe which is courted by the Man who favours him, and conſequently makes him nearer himſelf.

But as every Man living has more or leſs of this Incentive, which makes Men impatient of an unactive Condition, and urges Men to attempt what may tend to their Reputation, it is abſo⯑lutely neceſſary they ſhould form to themſelves an Ambition which is in every Man's Power to [58] gratify. This Ambition would be independent, and would conſiſt only in acting what to a Man's own Mind appears moſt great and laudable. It is a Purſuit in the Power of every Man, and is on⯑ly a regular Proſecution of what he himſelf ap⯑proves. It is what can be interrupted by no out⯑ward Accidents, for no Man can be robbed of his good Intention. One of our Society of the Trum⯑pet therefore ſtarted laſt Night a Notion which I thought had Reaſon in it. It is, methinks, ſaid he, an unreaſonable Thing, that Heroick Virtue ſhould (as it ſeems to be at preſent) be confined to a certain Order of Men, and be attainable by none but thoſe whom Fortune has elevated to the moſt conſpicuous Stations. I would have every Thing to be eſteemed as Heroick which is great and uncommon in the Circumſtances in the Man who performs it. Thus there would be no Virtue in humane Life which every one of the Species would not have a Pretence to arrive at, and an Ardency to exert. Since Fortune is not in our Power, let us be as little as poſſible in hers. Why ſhould it be neceſſary that a Man ſhould be rich, to be generous? If we meaſured by the Quality, and not the Quantity, of Things, the Particulars which accompany an Action, is what ſhould denominate it mean or great. The higheſt Station of humane Life is to be attained by each Man that pretends to it: For every Man can be as valiant, as generous, as wiſe, and as merciful, as the Faculties and Opportunities which he has from Heaven and Fortune will permit. He that can ſay to himſelf, I do as much good, and am as virtuous, as my moſt earneſt Endea⯑vours will allow me, whatever is his Station in the World, is to himſelf poſſeſſed of the higheſt Honour. If Ambition is not thus turned, it is no other than a continual Succeſſion of Anxie⯑ty and Vexation. But when it has this Caſt, it invigorates the Mind, and the Conſciouſneſs of [59] its own Worth is a Reward which it is not in the Power of Envy, Reproach, or Detraction, to take from it. Thus the Seat of ſolid Honour is in a Man's own Boſom, and no one can want Support who is in Poſſeſſion of an honeſt Con⯑ſcience, but he who would ſuffer the Reproaches of it for other Greatneſs.

P. S. I was going on in my Philoſophy, when Notice was brought me, that there was a great Crowd in my Antichamber, who expected Au⯑dience. When they were admitted, I found they all met at my Lodgings (each coming upon the ſame Errand) to know whether they were of the Fortunate in the Lottery which is now ready to be drawn. I was much at a Loſs how to ex⯑tricate my ſelf from their Importunity; but ob⯑ſerving the Aſſembly made up of both Sexes, I ſignified to them, that in this Caſe it would ap⯑pear Fortune is not blind, for all the Lots would fall upon the Wiſeſt and the Faireſt. This gave ſo general a Satisfaction, that the Room was ſoon emptied, and the Company retired with the beſt Air, and the moſt pleaſing Grace, I had any where obſerved. Mr. Elliot of St. James's Cof⯑fee-houſe now ſtood alone before me, and ſigni⯑fied to me, he had now not only prepared his Books, but had received a very great Subſcription already. His Deſign was, to advertiſe his Sub⯑ſcribers at their reſpective Places of Abode, with⯑in an Hour after their Number is drawn, whether it was a Blank or Benefit, if the Adventurer lives within the Bills of Mortality, if he dwells in the Country, by the next Poſt. I encouraged the Man in his Induſtry, and told him, The ready Path to good Fortune, was to believe there was no ſuch Thing.

IT is natural for the Imaginations of Men, who lead their Lives in too ſolitary a Manner, to prey upon themſelves, and form from their own Conceptions Beings and Things which have no Place in Nature. This often makes an Adept as much at a Loſs when he comes into the World as a meer Savage. To avoid therefore that Inepti⯑tude for Society, which is frequently the Fault of us Scholars, and has to Men of Underſtanding and Breeding ſomething much more ſhocking and untractable than Ruſticity it ſelf, I take Care to viſit all publick Solemnities, and go into Aſſem⯑blies as often as my Studies will permit. This being therefore the firſt Day of the Drawing of the Lottery, I did not neglect ſpending a conſide⯑rable Time in the Crowd: But as much a Philo⯑ſopher as I pretend to be, I could not but look with a Sort of Veneration upon the Two Boys which received the Tickets from the Wheels, as the impartial and equal Diſpenſers of the For⯑tunes which were to be diſtributed among the Crowd, who all ſtood expecting the ſame Chance. It ſeems at firſt Thought very wonderful, that one Paſſion ſhould ſo univerſally have the Pre⯑eminence of another in the Poſſeſſion of Men's Minds as that in this Caſe; all in general have a ſecret Hope of the great Ticket: And yet Fear in another Inſtance, as in going into a Battle ſhall [61] have ſo little Influence, as that though each Man believes there will be many Thouſands ſlain, each is conſident he himſelf ſhall eſcape. This Cer⯑tainty proceeds from our Vanity; for every Man ſees abundance in himſelf that deſerves Reward, and nothing which ſhould meet with Mortification. But of all the Adventurers that filled the Hall, there was one who ſtood by me, who I could not but fancy expected the Thouſand Pounds per An⯑num, as a meer Juſtice to his Parts and Induſtry. He had his Pencil and Table-Book, and was at the drawing of each Lot, counting how much a Man with Seven Tickets was now nearer the great Prize, by the ſtriking out another, and ano⯑ther Competitor. This Man was of the moſt par⯑ticular Conſtitution I had ever obſerved; his Paſ⯑ſions were ſo active, that he worked in the ut⯑moſt Stretch of Hope and Fear. When one Ri⯑val fell before him, you might ſee a ſhort Gleam of Triumph in his Countenance, which imme⯑diately vaniſhed at the Approach of another. What added to the Particularity of this Man, was, that he every Moment caſt a Look, either upon the Commiſſioners, the Wheels, or the Boys. I gently whiſpered him, and asked, When he thought the Thouſand Pounds would come up? Pugh! ſays he, Who knows that? And then looks upon a little Liſt of his own Tickets, which were pretty high in their Numbers, and ſaid it would not come this Ten Days. This Fellow will have a good Chance, though not that which he has put his Heart on. The Man is me⯑chanically turned, and made for getting. The Simplicity and Eagerneſs which he is in, argues an Attention to his Point; though what he is la⯑bouring at does not in the leaſt contribute to it. Were it not for ſuch honeſt Fellows as theſe, the Men who govern the reſt of their Species would have no Tools to work with: For the outward Show of the World is carried on by ſuch as can⯑not [62] find out that they are doing nothing. I left my Man with great Reluctance, ſeeing the Care he took to obſerve the whole Conduct of the Perſons concerned, and compute the Inequa⯑lity of the Chances with his own Hands and Eyes. Dear Sir, ſaid I, they muſt riſe early that cheat you. Ay, ſaid he, there's nothing like a Man's minding his Buſineſs himſelf. 'Tis very true, ſaid I, The Maſter's Eye makes the Horſe fat.

As it is much the greater Number who are to go without Prizes, it is but very Expedient to turn our Lecture to the forming juſt Sentiments on the Subject of Fortune. One ſaid this Morn⯑ing, That the Chief Lot he was conſident would fall upon ſome Puppy; but this Gentle⯑man is one of thoſe wrong Tempers who approve only the Unhappy, and have a natural Prejudice to the Fortunate. But as it is certain that there is a great Meanneſs in being attacked to a Man purely for his Fortune, there is no leſs a Mean⯑neſs in diſliking him for his Happineſs. It is the ſame Perverſeneſs under different Colours, and both theſe Reſentments ariſe from meer Pride.

The true Greatneſs of Mind conſiſts in valuing Men apart from their Circumſtances, or accord⯑ing to their Behaviour in them. Wealth is a Di⯑ſtinction only in Traffick; but it muſt not be al⯑lowed as a Recommendation in any other Parti⯑cular, but only juſt as it is applied. It was very prettily ſaid, That we may learn the little Value of Fortune by the Perſons on whom Heaven is plea⯑ſed to beſtow it. However, there is not a har⯑der Part in Humane Life, than becoming Wealth and Greatneſs. He muſt be very well ſtock'd with Merit, who is not willing to draw ſome Superiority over his Friends from his Fortune; For it is not every Man that can entertain with [63] the Air of a Gueſt, and do good Offices with the Mien of one that receives them.

I muſt confeſs, I cannot conceive how a Man can place himſelf in a Figure wherein he can ſo much enjoy his own Soul, and that greateſt of Pleaſures, the juſt Approbation of his own Actions, than as an Adventurer on this Occaſion, to ſit and ſee the Lots go off without Hope or Fear, perfectly unconcerned as to himſelf, but ta⯑king Part in the good Fortune of others.

I will believe there are happy Tempers in be⯑ing, to whom all the Good that arrives to any of their Fellow-Creatures gives a Pleaſure. Theſe live in a Courſe of ſubſtantial and laſting Happi⯑neſs, and have the Satisfaction to ſee all Men en⯑deavour to gratify them. This State of Mind not only lets a Man into certain Enjoyments, but relieves him from as certain Anxieties. If you will not rejoice with happy Men, you muſt re⯑pine at them. Dick Reptile alluded to this when he ſaid, He would hate no Man out of pure Idle⯑neſs. As for my own Part, I look at Fortune quite in another View than the reſt of the World; and, by my Knowledge in Futurity, tremble at the approaching Prize, which I ſee coming to a young Lady for whom I have much Tenderneſs; and have therefore writ her the following Let⯑ter, to be ſent by Mr. Elliot with the Notice of her Ticket.

Some Time ago a Virtuoſo, my very good Friend, ſent me a Plan of a covered Summer⯑houſe, which a little after was rallied by ano⯑ther of my Correſpondents. I cannot therefore defer giving him an Opportunity of making his Defence to the Learned in his own Words.

MAny are the Inconveniencies which happen from the improper Manner of Addreſs in common Speech, between Perſons of the ſame or of different Quality. Among theſe Errors, there is none greater than that of the imperti⯑nent Uſe of Title, and a paraphraſtical Way of ſaying, You. I had the Curioſity the other Day to follow a Crowd of People near Billingſgate, who were conducting a paſſionate Woman who ſold Fiſh to a Magiſtrate, in order to explain ſome Words which were ill taken by one of her own Quality and Profeſſion in the publick Mar⯑ket. When ſhe came to make her Defence, ſhe was ſo very full of, His Worſhip, and of, If it ſhould pleaſe his Honour, that we could for ſome Time hardly hear any other Apology ſhe made for her ſelf, than that of attoning for the ill Language ſhe had been accuſed of towards her Neighbour by the great Civilities ſhe paid to her Judge. But this Extravagance in her Senſe of doing Honour, was no more to be wondered at, than that her many [66] Rings on each Finger were worn as Inſtances of Finery and Dreſs. The Vulgar may thus heap and huddle Terms of Reſpect, and nothing bet⯑ter be expected from them; but for People of Rank to repeat Appellatives inſignificantly, is a Folly not to be endured, neither with Regard to our Times or our Underſtanding. It is below the Dignity of Speech to extend it with more Words or Phraſes than are neceſſary to explain our ſelves with Elegance: And it is, methinks, an Inſtance of Ignorance, if not of Servitude, to be redun⯑dant in ſuch Expreſſions.

I waited upon a Man of Quality ſome Morn⯑ings ago: He happened to be dreſſing; and his Shoemaker fitting him, told him, That if his Lordſhip would pleaſe to tread hard, or that if his Lordſhip would ſtamp a little, his Lordſhip would find his Lordſhip's Shoe will fit as eaſie as any Piece of Work his Lordſhip ſhould ſee in England. As ſoon as my Lord was dreſſed, a Gentleman approached him with a very good Air, and told him, he had an Affair which had long depended in the Lower Courts, which, through the Inadvertency of his Ance⯑ſtors on the one Side, and the ill Arts of their Ad⯑verſaries on the other, could not poſſibly be ſet⯑tled according to the Rules of the Lower Courts: That therefore he deſigned to bring his Cauſe be⯑fore the Houſe of Lords next Seſſion, where he ſhould be glad if his Lordſhip ſhould happen to be preſent; for he doubted not but his Cauſe would be approved by all Men of Juſtice and Ho⯑nour. In this Place the Word Lordſhip was gracefully inſerted, becauſe it was applied to him in that Circumſtance wherein his Quality was the Occaſion of the Diſcourſe, and wherein it was moſt uſeful to the one, and moſt honourable to the other.

This Way is ſo far from being diſreſpectful to the Honour of Nobles, that it is an Expedien [...] [67] for uſing them with greater Deference. I would not put Lordſhip to a Man's Hat, Gloves, Wig, or Cane; but to deſire his Lordſhip's Favour, his Lordſhip's Judgment, or his Lordſhip's Patro⯑nage, is a Manner of ſpeaking, which expreſſes an Alliance between his Quality and his Merit. It is this Knowledge which diſtinguiſhed the Diſ⯑courſe of the Shoemaker from that of the Gen⯑tleman. The higheſt Point of good Breeding, if any one can hit it, is to ſhow a very nice Re⯑gard to your own Dignity, and with that in your Heart expreſs your Value for the Man above you.

But the ſilly Humour to the contrary has ſo much prevailed, that the ſlaviſh Addition of Title enervates Diſcourſe, and renders the Appli⯑cation of it almoſt ridiculous. We Writers of Diurnals are nearer in our Styles to that of com⯑mon Talk than any other Writers, by which Means we uſe Words of Reſpect ſometimes very unfortunately. The Poſt-Man, who is one of the moſt celebrated of our Fraternity, fell into this Misfortune Yeſterday in his Paragraph from Ber⯑lin of July 26. Count Wartemberg (ſays he) Great Chamberlain, and Chief Miniſter of this Court, who on Monday leſt accompanied the King of Pruſſia to Oranienburg, was taken ſo very ill, th [...] [...] Wedneſday has Life was deſpaired of; and we had a Report, that his Excellency was dead.

I humbly preſume, that it ſlattens the Narra⯑tion, to ſay his Excellency in a Caſe which is common to all Men; except you would infer what is not to be inferred, to wit, That the Author deſigned to ſay, All wherein he excelled others was departed from him.

Were Diſtinctions uſed according to the Rules of Reaſon and Senſe, thoſe Additions to Men's Names would be, as they were firſt intended, ſig⯑nificant of their Worth, and not their Perſons; ſo that in ſome Caſes it might be proper to ſay, [68] The Man is dead, but his Excellency will never die. It is, methinks, very unjuſt to laugh at a Quaker, becauſe he has taken up a Reſolution to treat you with a Word, the moſt expreſſive of Complaiſance that can be thought of, and with an Air of good Nature and Charity calls you Friend. I ſay, it is very unjuſt to rally him for this Term to a Stranger, when you your ſelves, in all your Phraſes of Diſtinction, confound Phraſes of Honour into no Uſe at all.

Tom. Courtly, who is the Pink of Courteſy, is an Inſtance of how little Moment an undiſtin⯑guiſhing Application of Sounds of Honour are to thoſe who underſtand themſelves. Tom. never fails of paying his Obeiſance to every Man he ſees, who has Title or Office to make him conſpicuous; but his Deference is wholly given to outward Conſiderations. I, who know him, can tell with⯑in half an Acre how much Land one Man has more than another by Tom's Bow to him. Title is all he knows of Honour, and Civility of Friend⯑ſhip: For this Reaſon, becauſe he cares for no Man living, he is religiouſly ſtrict in performing what he calls his Reſpects to you. To this End he is very learned in Pedigree, and will aba [...] ſomething in the Ceremony of his Approaches to a Man, if he is in any Doubt about the bearing of his Coat of Arms. What is the moſt pleaſan [...] of all his Character is, That he acts with a So [...] of Integrity in theſe Impertinencies; and thoug [...] he would not do any Man any ſolid Kindneſs, h [...] is wonderfully juſt and careful not to wrong h [...] Quality. But as Integrity is very ſcarce in th [...] World, I cannot forbear having Reſpect for th [...] Impertinent: It is ſome Virtue to be bound b [...] any Thing. Tom. and I are upon very goo [...] Terms for the Reſpect he has for the Houſe [...] Bickerſtaff. Tho' one cannot but laugh at his f [...] ⯑rious Conſideration of Things ſo little eſſenti [...] one muſt have a Value even for a frivolous go [...] Conſcience.

NAture has implanted in us Two very ſtrong Deſires, Hunger for the Preſervation of the Individual, and Luſt for the Support of the Spe⯑cies; or, to ſpeak more intelligibly, the former to continue our own Perſons, and the latter to in⯑troduce others into the World. According as Men behave themſelves with regard to theſe Ap⯑petites, they are above or below the Beaſts of the Field, which are incited by them without Choice or Reflection. But reaſonable Creatures correct theſe Incentives, and improve them into elegant Motives of Friendſhip and Society. It is chiefly from this homely Foundation, that we are under the Neceſſity of ſeeking for the agreeable Companion, and the honourable Miſtreſs. By this Cultivation of Art and Reaſon, our Wants are made Pleaſures, and the Gratification of our Deſires, under proper Reſtrictions, a Work no Way below our nobleſt Faculties. The wiſeſt Man may maintain his Character, and yet conſi⯑der in what Manner he ſhall beſt entertain his Friend, or divert his Miſtreſs: Nay, it is ſo far from being a Derogation to him, that he can in [...]o other Inſtances ſhow ſo true a Taſt of his Life, or his Fortune. What concerns one of the [...]bove-mentioned Appetites, as it is elevated into [...]ove, I ſhall have abundant Occaſion to diſcourſe [70] of before I have provided for the numberleſs Crowd of Damſels I have propoſed to take Care of. The Subject therefore of the preſent Paper ſhall be that Part of Society which owes its Be⯑ginning to the common Neceſſity of Hunger. When this is conſidered as the Support of our Be⯑ing, we may take in under the ſame Head Thirſt alſo; otherwiſe when we are purſuing the Glut⯑ton, the Drunkard may make his Eſcape. The true Choice of our Diet, and our Companions at it, ſeems to conſiſt in that which contributes moſt to Chearfulneſs and Refreſhment: And theſe certainly are beſt conſulted by Simplicity in the Food, and Sincerity in the Company. By this Rule are in the firſt Place excluded from Pretence to Happineſs all Meals of State and Ceremony, which are performed in dumb Shew, and greedy Sullenneſs. At the Boards of the Great, they ſay, you ſhall have a Number attending with as good Habits and Countenances as the Gueſts, which only Circumſtance muſt deſtroy the whole Plea⯑ſure of the Repaſt: For if ſuch Attendants are introduced for the Dignity of their Appearance, modeſt Minds are ſhocked by conſidering them as Spectators, or elſe look upon them as Equals, for whoſe Servitude they are in a Kind of Suffering. It may be here added, that the ſumptuous Side⯑board to an ingenious Eye has often more the Air of an Altar than a Table. The next abſurd Way of enjoying our ſelves at Meals, is, where the Bottle is ply'd without being called for [...] where Humour takes Place of Appetite, and the good Company are too dull or too merry to know any Enjoyment in their Senſes.

Tho' this Part of Time is abſolutely neceſſar [...] to ſuſtain Life, it muſt be alſo conſidered, Tha [...] Life it ſelf is to the endleſs Being of Man b [...] what a Meal is to this Life, not valuable for [...] ſelf, but for the Purpoſes of it. If there be an [...] Truth in this, the Expence of many Hours th [...] [71] Way is ſomewhat unaccountable; and placing much Thought either in too great Sumptuouſneſs and Elegance in this Matter, or wallowing in Noiſe and Riot at it, are both, tho' not equally, unaccountable. I have often conſidered theſe dif⯑ferent People with very great Attention, and al⯑ways ſpeak of them with the Diſtinction of the Eaters, and the Swallowers. The Eaters ſacri⯑fice all their Senſes and Underſtanding to this Ap⯑petite: The Swallowers hurry themſelves out of both, without pleaſing this or any other Appetite at all. The latter are improved Brutes, the for⯑mer degenerated Men. I have ſometimes thought it would not be improper to add to my Dead and Living Men, Perſons in an intermediate State of Humanity, under the Appellation of Dozers. The Dozers are a Sect, who, inſtead of keeping their Appetites in Subjection, live in Subjection to them; nay, they are ſo truly Slaves to them, that they keep at too great a Diſtance ever to come into their Preſence. Within my own Acquain⯑tance, I know thoſe that I dare ſay have forgot that they ever were hungry, and are no leſs utter Strangers to Thirſt and Wearineſs, who are be⯑holden to Sauces for their Food, and to their Food for their Wearineſs.

I have often wondered, confidering the excel⯑lent and choice Spirits that we have among our Divines, that they do not think of putting vici⯑ous Habits into a more contemptible and unlove⯑ly Figure than they do at preſent. So many Men of Wit and Spirit as there are in Sacred Orders, have it in their Power to make the Faſhion of their Side. The Leaders in humane Society are more effectu⯑ally prevailed upon this Way than can eaſily be imagined. I have more than one in my Thoughts at this Time capable of doing this againſt all the Oppoſition of the moſt Witty, as well as the moſt Voluptuous. There may poſſibly be more ac⯑ceptable Subjects, but ſure there are none more [72] uſeful. It is viſible, that tho' Mens Fortunes, Circumſtances, and Pleaſures, give them Pre⯑poſſeſſions too ſtrong to regard any Mention ei⯑ther of Puniſhments or Rewards, they will liſten to what makes them inconſiderable or mean in the Imaginations of others, and by Degrees in their own.

It is certain ſuch Topicks are to be touched up⯑on in the Light we mean, only by Men of the moſt conſummate Prudence, as well as excellent Wit: For theſe Diſcourſes are to be made, if made to run into Example, before ſuch as have their Thoughts more intent upon the Propriety than the Reaſon of the Diſcourſe. What indeed leads me into this Way of Thinking, is, That the laſt Thing I read was a Sermon of the learn⯑ed Dr. South, upon the Ways of Pleaſantneſs. This admirable Diſcourſe was made at Court, where the Preacher was too wiſe a Man not to believe, the greateſt Argument, in that Place, againſt the Pleaſures then in Vogue, muſt be, that they loſt greater Pleaſures by proſecuting the Courſe they were in. The Charming Diſcourſe has in it whatever Wit and Wiſdom can put together. This Gentleman has a Talent of making all his Faculties bear to the great End of his hallowed Profeſſion. Happy Genius! He is the better Man for being a Wit. The beſt Way to praiſe this Author is to quote him; and, I think, I may de⯑fy any Man to ſay a greater Thing of him, or his Ability, than that there are no Paragraphs in the whole Diſcourſe I ſpeak of below theſe which follow.

After having recommended the Satisfaction of the Mind, and the Pleaſure of Conſcience, he proceeds:

THE general Purpoſes of Men in the Con⯑duct of their Lives, (I mean with relatio [...] to this Life only) end in gaining either the Af⯑fection or the Eſteem of thoſe with whom the [...] converſe. Eſteem makes a Man powerful in Bu⯑ſineſs, and Affection deſirable in Converſation, which is certainly the Reaſon that very agreeabl [...] Men fail of their Point in the World; and thoſ [...] who are by no Means ſuch, arrive at it with muc [...] Eaſe. If it be viſible in a Man's Carriage that h [...] has a ſtrong Paſſion to pleaſe, no one is much a [...] a Loſs how to keep Meaſures with him, becauſ [...] there is always a Ballance in People's Hands [...] make up with him, by giving him what he [...] wants in Exchange for what you think fit to de [...] him. Such a Perſon asks with Diffidence, [...] ever leaves Room for Denial by that Softneſs [...] his Complexion. At the ſame Time he himſe [...] is capable of denying nothing, even what he [...] not able to perform. The other Sort of Man w [...] courts Eſteem, having a quite different View, [...] as different a Behaviour, and acts as much by [...] Dictates of his Reaſon, as the other does by [...] Impulſe of his Inclination. You muſt pay [...] every Thing you have of him. He conſid [...] Mankind as a People in Commerce, and ne [...] gives out out of himſelf what he is ſure will [...] come in with Intereſt from another. All [...] [75] Words and Actions tend to the Advancement of his Reputation and of his Fortune, toward which he makes hourly Progreſs, becauſe he laviſhes no Part of his good Will upon ſuch as do not make ſome Advances to merit it. The Man who va⯑lues Affection, ſometimes becomes popular; he who aims at Eſteem, ſeldom falls of growing rich.

Thus far we have looked at theſe different Men, as Perſons who endeavour to be valued and be⯑loved from Deſign, or Ambition; but they ap⯑pear in quite another Figure, when you obſerve the Men who are agreeable and venerable from the Force of their natural Inclinations. We af⯑fect the Company of him who has leaſt Regard of himſelf in his Carriage, who throws himſelf into unguarded Gaiety, voluntary Mirth, and ge⯑neral good Humour; who has nothing in his Head but the preſent Hour, and ſeems to have all his Intereſts and Paſſions gratified, if every Man elſe in the Room is as unconcerned as himſelf. This Man uſually has no Quality or Character among his Companions, let him be born of whom he will, have what great Qualities he pleaſe, let him be capable of aſſuming for a Moment what Figures he pleaſes, he ſtill dwells in the Ima⯑gination of all who know him but as Jack ſuch a One. This makes Jack brighten up the Room wherever he enters, and change the Severity of the Company into that Gaiety and good Humour into which his Converſation generally leads them. It is not unpleaſant to obſerve even this Sort of Creature go out of his Character, to check himſelf ſometimes for his Familiarities, and pretend ſo aukwardly at procuring to him⯑ſelf more eſteem than he finds he meets with. I was the other Day walking with Jack Gainly to⯑wards Lincoln's-Inn-Walks. We met a Fellow who is a Lower Officer where Jack is in the Di⯑rection. Jack cries to him, So, How is it Mr — [76] He anſwers, Mr. Gainly, I am glad to ſee yo [...] well. This Expreſſion of Equality gave m [...] Friend a Pang, which appeared in a Fluſh of hi [...] Countenance. Prithee Jack, ſays I, do not b [...] angry at the Man; for do what you will, th [...] Man can only love you, be contented with th [...] Image the Man has of thee; for if thou aimeſ [...] at any other, it muſt be Hatred or Contempt. I went on, and told him, Look'ee, Jack, I have heard thee ſometimes talk like an Oracle for half an Hour, with the Sentiments of a Roman, the Cloſeneſs of a School-man, and the Integrity of a Divine; but then, Jack, while I admired thee, it was upon Topicks which did not concern thy ſelf, and where the Greatneſs of the Subject, (ad⯑ded to thy being perſonally unconcerned in it) created all that was great in thy Diſcourſe. I did not mind his being a little out of Humour, but comforted him, by giving him ſeveral Inſtances of Men of our Acquaintance, who had no one Quality in any Eminence, that were much more eſteemed than he was with very many: But the Thing is, if your Character is to give Pleaſure, Men will conſider you only in that Light, and not in thoſe Acts which turn to Eſteem and Ve⯑neration.

When I think of Jack Gainly, I cannot but re⯑flect alſo upon his Siſter Gatty. She is young, witty, pleaſant, innocent. This is her natural Character; but when ſhe obſerves any one ad⯑mired for what they call a Fine Woman, ſhe i [...] all the next Day womanly, prudent, obſerving, and virtuous. She is every Moment asked in her prudential Behaviour, Whether ſhe is not well? Upon which ſhe as often anſwers in a Fret, Do People think one muſt be always romping, al⯑ways a Jackpudding? I never fail to enquire o [...] her, If my Lady ſuch a One, that awful Beauty, was not at the Play laſt Night? She knows th [...] Connexion between that Queſtion and her Chang [...] [77] of Humour, and ſays, ‘'It would be very well, if ſome People would examine into themſelves as much as they do into others.'’ Or, ‘'Sure there is nothing in the World ſo ridiculous as an amorous old Man.'’

As I was ſaying, there is a Claſs which every Man is in by his Poſt in Nature, from which it is impoſſible for him to withdraw to another, and become it. Therefore it is neceſſary that each ſhould be contented with it, and not endeavour at any Progreſs out of that Tract. To follow Na⯑ture, is the only agreeable Courſe; which is what I would fain inculcate to thoſe jarring Compa⯑nions, Flavia and Lucia. They are Mother and Daughter. Flavia, who is the Mamma, has all the Charms and Deſires of Youth ſtill about her, and not much turned of Thirty: Lucia is bloom⯑ing and amorous, and but a little above Fifteen. The Mother looks very much younger than ſhe is, the Girl very much elder. If it were poſſible to fix the Girl to her ſick Bed, and preſerve the Portion (the Uſe of which the Mother partakes) the good Widow Flavia would certainly do it. But for fear of Lucia's Eſcape, the Mother is for⯑ced to be conſtantly attended with a Rival, that explains her Age, and draws off the Eyes of her Admirers. The Jeſt is, they can never be toge⯑ther in Strangers Company, but Lucy is eternally reprimanded for ſomething very particular in her Behaviour; for which ſhe has the Malice to ſay, She hopes ſhe ſhall always obey her Parents. She carried her Paſſion and Jealouſy to that Height the other Day, that coming ſuddenly into the Room, and ſurpriſing Colonel Lofty ſpeaking Rapture on one Knee to her Mother, ſhe clapped down by him, and asked her Bleſſing.

I do not know whether it is ſo proper to tell Family Occurrences of this Nature; but we eve⯑ry Day ſee the ſame Thing happen in the publick Converſation in the World. Men cannot be con⯑tented [78] with what is laudable, but they muſt have all that is laudable. This Affectation is what de⯑ſtroys the familiar Man into Pretences to take State upon him, and the contrary Character to the Folly of aiming at being winning and com⯑plaiſant. But in theſe Caſes, Men may eaſily lay aſide what they are, but can never arrive at what they are not.

As to the Purſuits after Affection and Eſteem, the Fair Sex are happy in this Particular, that with them the one is much more nearly related to the other than in Men. The Love of a Wo⯑man is inſeparable from ſome Eſteem of her; and as ſhe is naturally the Object of Affection, the Woman who has your Eſteem has alſo ſome Degree of your Love. A Man that dotes on a Woman for her Beauty, will whiſper his Friend, That Creature has a great deal of Wit when you are well acquainted with her. And if you examine the Bottom of your Eſteem for a Woman, you will find you have a greater Opinion of her Beau⯑ty than any Body elſe. As to us Men, I deſign to paſs moſt of my Time with the facetious Harry Bickerſtaff; but William Bickerſtaff, the moſt prudent Man of our Family, ſhall be my Executor.

HAving Yeſterday Morning received a Paper of Latin Verſes, written with much Ele⯑gance in Honour of theſe my Papers, and being informed at the ſame Time that they were com⯑poſed by a Youth under Age, I read them with [79] much Delight, as an Inſtance of his Improve⯑ment. There is not a greater Pleaſure to old Age, than ſeeing young People entertain themſelves in ſuch a Manner as that we can partake of their Enjoyments. On ſuch Occaſions we flatter our ſelves, that we are not quite laid aſide in the World, but that we are either uſed with Grati⯑tude for what we were, or honoured for what we are. A well inclined young Man, and whoſe good Breeding is founded upon the Principles of Nature and Virtue, muſt needs take Delight in being agreeable to his Elders, as we are truly de⯑lighted when we are not the Jeſt of them. When I ſay this, I muſt confeſs I cannot but think it a very lamentable Thing that there ſhould be a Neceſſity for making that a Rule of Life, which ſhould be, methinks, a meer Inſtinct of Nature. If Reflection upon a Man in Poverty, whom we once knew in Riches, is an Argument of Commi⯑ſeration with generous Minds; ſure old Age, which is a Decay from that Vigour which the Young poſſeſs, and muſt certainly (if not pre⯑vented againſt their Will) arrive at, ſhould be more forcibly the Object of that Reverence which honeſt Spirits are inclined to from a Senſe of be⯑ing themſelves liable to what they obſerve has al⯑ready overtaken others.

My Three Nephews, whom in June laſt was Twelvemonth I diſpoſed of according to their ſe⯑veral Capacities and Inclinations, the firſt to the Univerſity, the Second to a Merchant, and the Third to a Woman of Quality as her Page, by my Invitation dined with me to Day. It is my Cu⯑ſtom often, when I have a Mind to give my ſelf a more than ordinary Chearfulneſs, to invite a certain young Gentlewoman of our Neighbour⯑hood to make one of the Company. She did me that Favour this Day. The Preſence of a beauti⯑ful Woman of Honour, to Minds which are not trivially diſpoſed, diſplays an Alacrity which is [80] not to be communicated by any other Object. It was not unpleaſant to me to look into her Thoughts of the Company ſhe was in. She ſmiled at the Party of Pleaſure I had thought of for her, which was compoſed of an old Man and Three Boys. My Scholar, my Citizen, and my ſelf, were very ſoon neglected; and the young Courtier, by the Bow he made to her at her En⯑trance, engaged her Obſervation without a Rival. I obſerved the Oxonian not a little diſcompoſed at this Preference, while the Trader kept his Eye upon his Unkle. My Nephew Will had a Thou⯑ſand ſecret Reſolutions to break in upon the Diſ⯑courſe of his younger Brother, who gave my fair Companion a full Account of the Faſhion, and what was reckoned moſt becoming to this Com⯑plexion, and what Sort of Habit appeared beſt upon t'other Shape. He proceeded to acquaint her, who of Quality was well or ſick within the Bills of Mortality, and named very familiarly all his Lady's Acquaintance, not forgetting her very Words when he ſpoke of their Characters. Be⯑ſides all this, he had a Road of Flattery; and up⯑on her enquiring what Sort of Woman Lady Love⯑ly was in her Perſon, Really Madam, ſays the Jackanapes, ſhe is exactly of your Height and Shape; but as you are fair, ſhe is a brown Wo⯑man. There was no enduring that this Fop ſhould outſhine us all at this unmerciful Rate, therefore I thought fit to talk to my young Scho⯑lar concerning his Studies; and becauſe I would throw his Learning into preſent Service, I deſired him to repeat to me the Tranſlation he had made of ſome tender Verſes in Theocritus. He did ſo, with an Air of Elegance peculiar to the College to which I ſent him. I made ſome Exceptions to the Turn of the Phraſes, which he defended with much Modeſty, as believing in that Place the Matter was rather to conſult the Softneſs of a Swain's Paſſion, than the Strength of his Expreſ⯑ſions. [81] It ſoon appeared, that Will had out-ſtrip⯑ped his Brother in the Opinion of our young La⯑dy. A little Poetry to one who is bred a Scholar, has the ſame Effect that a good Carriage of his Perſon has on one who is to live in Courts. The Favour of Women is ſo natural a Paſſion, that I envied both the Boys their Succeſs in the Appro⯑bation of my Gueſt; and I thought the only Per⯑ſon invulnerable was my young Trader. During the whole Meal, I could obſerve in the Children a mutual Contempt and Scorn of each other, ari⯑ſing from their different Way of Life and Educa⯑tion, and took that Occaſion to advertiſe them of ſuch growing Diſtaſts, which might miſlead them in their future Life, and diſappoint their Friends, as well as themſelves, of the Advantages which might be expected from the Diverſity of their Profeſſions and Intereſts.

The Prejudices which are growing up between theſe Brothers from the different Ways of Edu⯑cation, are what create the moſt fatal Miſunder⯑ſtandings in Life. But all Diſtinctions of Diſpa⯑ragement meerly from our Circumſtances, are ſuch as will not bear the Examination of Reaſon. The Courtier, the Trader, and the Scholar, ſhould all have an equal Pretenſion to the Deno⯑mination of a Gentleman. That Tradeſman who deals with me in a Commodity which I do not underſtand with Uprightneſs, has much more Right to that Character, than the Courtier who gives me falſe Hopes, or the Scholar who laughs at my Ignorance.

The Appellation of Gentleman is never to be affixed to a Man's Circumſtances, but to his Be⯑haviour in them. For this Reaſon I ſhall ever, as far as I am able, give my Nephews ſuch Im⯑preſſions as ſhall make them value themſelves ra⯑ther as they are uſeful to others, than as they are conſcious of Merit in themſelves. There are no Qualities from which we ought to pretend to the [82] Eſteem of others, but ſuch as render us ſervice⯑able to them; for Free Men have no Superiors but Benefactors. I was going on like a true old Fel⯑low to this Purpoſe to my Gueſts, when I recei⯑ved the following Epiſtle:

AN old Acquaintanc who met me this Morn⯑ing ſeemed overjoyed to ſee me, and told me, I looked as well as he had known me do theſe Forty Years: But, continued he, not quite the Man you were when we viſited together at Lady Brightly's. Oh! Iſaac, thoſe Days are over. Do you think there are any ſuch fine Creatures now living as we then converſed with? He went on with a Thouſand incoherent Circumſtances, which, in his Imagination, muſt needs pleaſe me; but they had the quite contrary Effect. The Flat⯑tery with which he began, in telling me how well I wore, was not diſagreeable; but his indiſcreet Mention of a Set of Acquaintance we had out⯑lived, recalled Ten Thouſand Things to my Me⯑mory, which made me reflect upon my preſent Condition with Regret. Had he indeed been ſo kind as, after a long Abſence, to felicitate me up⯑on an indolent and eaſy old Age, and mentioned how much he and I had to thank for, who at our Time of Day could walk firmly, eat heartily, and converſe chearfully, he had kept up my Pleaſure in my ſelf. But of all Mankind, there are none ſo ſhocking as theſe injudicious civil People. They ordinarily begin upon ſomething that they know muſt be a Satisfaction; but then, for Fear of the Imputation of Flattery, they follow it with the laſt Thing in the World of which you would be [84] reminded. It is this that perplexes civil Perſons. The Reaſon that there is ſuch a general Outcry amongſt us againſt Flatterers, is, that there are ſo very few good Ones. It is the niceſt Art in this Life, and is a Part of Eloquence which does not want the Preparation that is neceſſary to all other Parts of it, That your Audience ſhould be your Well-wiſhers: For Praiſe from an Enemy is the moſt pleaſing of all Commendations.

It is generally to be obſerved, that the Perſon moſt agreeable to a Man for a Conſtancy is he that has no ſhining Qualities, but is a certain Degree above great Imperfections, whom he can live with as his Inferior, and who will either overlook or not obſerve his little Defects. Such an eaſy Com⯑panion as this, either now and then throws out a little Flattery, or lets a Man ſilently flatter him⯑ſelf in his Superiority to him. If you take No⯑tice, there is hardly a rich Man in the World, who has not ſuch a led Friend of ſmall Conſidera⯑tion, who is a Darling for his Inſignificancy. It is a great Eaſe to have one in our own Shape a Species below us, and who, without being liſted in our Service, is by Nature of our Retinue. Theſe Dependants are of excellent Uſe on a Rainy Day, or when a Man has not a Mind to dreſs, or to ex⯑clude Solitude, when one has neither a Mind to that or to Company. There are of this good-na⯑tured Order, who are ſo kind as to divide them⯑ſelves, and do theſe good Offices to many. Five or Six of them viſit a whole Quarter of the Town, and exclude the Spleen without Fees from the Families they frequent. If they do not preſcribe Phyſick, they can be Company when you take it. Very great Benefactors to the Rich, or thoſe whom they call People at their Eaſe, are your Perſons of no Conſequence. I have known ſome of them, by the Help of a little Cunning, make delicious Flatterers. They know the Courſe of the Town, and the general Characters of Perſons: By this [85] Means they will ſometimes tell the moſt agree⯑able Falſhoods imaginable. They will acquaint you, that ſuch a One of a quite contrary Party ſaid, that tho' you were engaged in different In⯑tereſts, yet he had the greateſt Reſpect for your good Senſe and Addreſs. When one of theſe has a little Cunning, he paſſes his Time in the ut⯑moſt Satisfaction to himſelf and his Friends: For his Poſition is never to report or ſpeak a diſplea⯑ſing Thing to his Friend. As for letting him go on in an Error, he knows Advice againſt them is the Office of Perſons of greater Talents and leſs Diſcretion.

The Latin Word for a Flatterer (Aſſentator) implies no more than a Perſon that barely con⯑ſents; and indeed ſuch a one, if a Man were able to purchaſe or maintain him, cannot be bought too dear. Such a one never contradicts you, but gains upon you, not by a fulſom Way of com⯑mending you in broad Terms, but liking what⯑ever you propoſe or utter; at the ſame Time is ready to beg your Pardon, and gainſay you, if you chance to ſpeak Ill of your ſelf. An old Lady is very ſeldom without ſuch a Companion as this, who can recite the Names of all her Lovers, and the Matches refuſed by her in the Days when ſhe minded ſuch Vanities, (as ſhe is pleaſed to call them, tho' ſhe ſo much approves the Mention of them.) It is to be noted, that a Woman's Flatterer is generally older than her ſelf, her Years ſerving at once to recommend her Patroneſs's Age, and to add Weight to her Complaiſance in all other Particulars.

We Gentlemen of ſmall Fortunes are extreme⯑ly neceſſitous in this Particular. I have indeed one who ſmokes with me often; but his Parts are ſo low, that all the Incenſe he does me is to fill his Pipe with me, and to be out at juſt as many Whiffs as I take. This is all the Praiſe or Aſſent that he is capable of, yet there are more Hours when I [86] would rather be in his Company than that of the brighteſt Man I know. It would be an hard Mat⯑ter to give an Account of this Inclination to be flattered; but if we go to the Bottom of it, we ſhall find that the Pleaſure in it is ſomething like that of receiving Money which lay out. Every Man thinks he has an Eſtate of Reputation, and is glad to ſee one that will bring any of it Home to him: It is no Matter how dirty a Bag it is con⯑veyed to him in, or by how clowniſh a Meſſenger, ſo the Money is good. All that we want to be pleaſed with Flattery, is to believe that the Man is ſincere who gives it us. It is by this one Ac⯑cident, that abſurd Creatures often outrun the more Skilful in this Art. Their Want of Ability is here an Advantage, and their Bluntneſs, as it is the ſeeming Effect of Sincerity, is the beſt Co⯑ver to Artifice.

Terence introduces a Flatterer talking to a Cox⯑comb whom he cheats out of a Livelihood, and a third Perſon on the Stage makes on him this plea⯑ſant Remark, ‘"This Fellow has an Art of making Fools Madmen."’ The Love of Flattery is in⯑deed ſometimes the Weakneſs of a great Mind; but you ſee it alſo in Perſons who otherwiſe diſ⯑cover no Manner of Reliſh of any Thing above meer Senſuality. Theſe latter it ſometimes im⯑proves, but always debaſes the former. A Fool is in himſelf the Object of Pity till he is flattered. By the Force of that his Stupidity is raiſed into Affectation, and he becomes of Dignity enough to be ridiculous. I remember a Drole, that upon one's ſaying, The Times are ſo tickliſh that there muſt great Care be taken what one ſays in Con⯑verſation; anſwered with an Air of Surlineſs and Honeſty, If People will be free, let them be ſo in the Manner that I am, who never abuſe a Man but to his Face. He had no Reputation for ſay⯑ing dangerous Truths; therefore when it was re⯑peated, You abuſe a Man but to his Face? Yes, ſays he, I flatter him.

[87] It is indeed the greateſt of Injuries to flatter any but the Unhappy, or ſuch as are diſpleaſed with themſelves for ſome Infirmity. In this latter Caſe we have a Member of our Club, that when Sir Jeffery falls aſleep, wakens him with Snoring. This makes Sir Jeffery hold up for ſome Moments the longer, to ſee there are Men younger than himſelf among us, who are more Lethargick than he is.

When Flattery is practiſed upon any other Con⯑ſideration, it is the moſt abject Thing in Nature; nay, I cannot think of any Character below the Flatterer, except he that envies him. You meet with Fellows prepared to be as mean as poſſible in their Condeſcentions and Expreſſions; but they want Perſons and Talents to riſe up to ſuch a Baſe⯑neſs. As a Coxcomb is a Fool of Parts, ſo is a Flatterer a Knave of Parts.

The beſt of this Order that I know, is one who diſguiſes it under a Spirit of Contradiction or Re⯑proof. He told an errant Driveler the other Day, That he did not care for being in Company with him, becauſe he heard he turned his abſent Friends into Ridicule. And upon Lady Autumn's diſpu⯑ting with him about ſomething that happened at the Revolution, he replied with a very angry Tone, Pray, Madam, give me Leave to know more of a Thing in which I was actually con⯑cerned, than you who were then in your Nurſe's Arms.

ANoble Painter, who has an Ambition to draw an Hiſtory-Piece, has deſired of me to give him a Subject on which he may ſhow the utmoſt Force of his Art and Genius. For this Purpoſe I have pitched upon that remarkable Incident be⯑tween Alexander the Great and his Phyſician. This Prince, in the Midſt of his Conqueſts in Perſia, was ſeized by a violent Fever; and according to the Account we have of his vaſt Mind, his Thoughts were more employed about his Recovery as it regarded the War, than as it concerned his own Life. He profeſſed, a ſlow Method was worſe than Death to him, becauſe it was what he more dreaded, an Interruption of his Glory. He deſi⯑red a dangerous, ſo it might be a ſpeedy Reme⯑dy. During this Impatience of the King, it is well known that Darius had offered an immenſe Sum to any who ſhould take away his Life. But Philippus, the moſt eſteemed and moſt knowing of his Phyſicians, promiſed, that within Three Days Time he would prepare a Medicine for him which ſhould reſtore him more expeditiouſly than could be imagined. Immediately after this En⯑gagement, Alexander receives a Letter from the moſt conſiderable of his Captains, with Intelli⯑gence, That Darius had bribed Philippus to poi⯑ſon him. Every Circumſtance imaginable favou⯑red this Suſpicion; but this Monarch, who did nothing but in an extraordinary Manner, conceal⯑ed the Letter; and while the Medicine was pre⯑paring, ſpent all his Thoughts upon his Behaviour [89] in this important Incident. From his long Soli⯑loquy he came to this Reſolution: ‘"Alexander muſt not lie here alive to be oppreſſed by his Enemy. I will not believe my Phyſician guilty; or, I will periſh rather by his Guilt, than my own Diffidence.'’

At the appointed Hour, Philippus enters with the Potion. One cannot but form to one's ſelf on Occaſion the Encounter of their Eyes, the Reſolu⯑tion in thoſe of the Patient, and the Benevolence in the Countenance of the Phyſician. The Hero raiſed himſelf in his Bed, and holding the Letter in one Hand, and the Potion in the other, drank the Medicine. It will exerciſe my Friend's Pencil and Brain to place this Action in its proper Beauty. A Prince obſerving the Features of a ſuſpected Traytor after having drank the Poiſon he offer'd him, is a Circumſtance ſo full of Paſſion, that it will require the higheſt Strength of his Imagina⯑tion to conceive it, much more to expreſs it. But as Painting is Eloquence and Poetry in Mecha⯑niſm, I ſhall raiſe his Idea's, by reading with him the fineſt Draughts of the Paſſions concerned in this Circumſtance from the moſt excellent Poets and Orators. The Confidence which Alexander aſſumes from the Air of Philippus's Face as he is reading his Accuſation, and the generous Diſdain which is to riſe in the Features of a falſly accuſed Man, are principally to be regarded. In this Par⯑ticular he muſt heighten his Thoughts, by reflect⯑ing, that he is not drawing only an innocent Man traduced, but a Man zealouſly affected to his Per⯑ſon and Safety, full of Reſentment for being thought falſe. How ſhall we contrive to expreſs the higheſt Admiration mingled with Diſdain? How ſhall we in Strokes of a Pencil ſay, what Philippus did to his Prince on this Occaſion? ‘"Sir, my Life never depended on yours more than it does now. Without knowing this Secret, I prepared the Potion, which you have taken as [90] what concerned Philippus no leſs than Alexander; and there is nothing new in this Adventure, but that it makes me ſtill more admire the Generoſity and Confidence of my Maſter."’ Alexander took him by the Hand, and ſaid, ‘"Philippus, I am con⯑fident you had rather I had any other Way to have manifeſted the Faith I have in you, than a Caſe which ſo nearly concerns me: And in Gra⯑titude I now aſſure you, I am anxious for the Effect of your Medicine, more for your Sake than my own.'’

My Painter is employed by a Man of Senſe and Wealth to furniſh him a Gallery, and I ſhall join with my Friend in the Deſigning Part. It is the great Uſe of Pictures to raiſe in our Minds either agreeable Idea's of our abſent Friends, or high Images of eminent Perſonages. But the latter De⯑ſign is, methinks, carried on in a very improper Way: For to fill a Room full of Battle-Pieces, pompous Hiſtories of Sieges, and a tall Hero a⯑lone in a Crowd of inſignificant Figures about him, is of no Conſequence to private Men. But to place before our Eyes great and illuſtrious Men in thoſe Parts and Circumſtances of Life wherein their Behaviour may have an Effect upon our Minds, as being ſuch as we partake with them merely as they were Men: Such as theſe, I ſay, may be juſt and uſeful Ornaments of an elegant Apartment. In this Collection therefore that we are making, we will not have the Battles, but the Sentiments of Alexander. The Affair we were juſt now talking of, has Circumſtances of the higheſt Nature, and yet their Grandeur has little to do with his Fortune. If by obſerving ſuch a Piece as that of his taking a Bowl of Poiſon with ſo much Magnanimity, a Man, the next Time he has a Fit of the Spleen, is leſs froward to his Friend or his Servants; thus far is ſome Improvement.

[91] I have frequently thought, that if we had many Draughts which were Hiſtorical of certain Paſſions, and had the true Figure of the great Men we ſee tranſported by them, it would be of the moſt ſolid Advantage imaginable. To conſider this mighty Man on one Occaſion adminiſter to the Wants of a poor Soldier, benummed with Cold, with the greateſt Humanity; at another, barbarouſly ſtab⯑bing a faithful Officer: At one Time, ſo gene⯑rouſly chaſt and virtuous as to give his Captive Statira her Liberty; at another, burning a Town at the Inſtigation of Thais. This Sort of Changes in the ſame Perſon are what would be more bene⯑ficial Leſſons of Morality, than the ſeveral Revo⯑lutions in a great Man's Fortune. There are but One or Two in an Age to whom the pompous In⯑cidents of his Life can be exemplary; but I or any Man may be as ſick, as good-natur'd, as compaſſio⯑nate, and as angry, as Alexander the great. My Purpoſe in all this Chat is, that ſo excellent a Fur⯑niture may not for the future have ſo Romantick a Turn, but allude to Incidents which come with⯑in the Fortunes of the ordinary Race of Men. I do not know but 'tis by the Force of this ſenſeleſs Cuſtom that People are drawn in Poſtures they would not for half they are worth be ſurpriſed in. The unparallell'd Firceneſs of ſome Rural 'Squires drawn in Red, or in Armour, who never dreamed to deſtroy any Thing above a Fox, is a common and ordinary Offence of this Kind. But I ſhall give an Account of our whole Gallery on another Occaſion.

I Did my ſelf the Honour this Day to make a Viſit to a Lady of Quality, who is one of thoſe who are ever railing at the Vices of the Age, but mean only one Vice, becauſe it is the only Vice they are not guilty of. She went ſo far as to fall foul on a young Woman who has had Imputa⯑tions; but whether they were juſt or not, no one knows but her ſelf. However that is, ſhe is in her preſent Behaviour modeſt, humble, pious, and diſcreet. I thought it became me to bring this cen⯑ſorious Lady to Reaſon, and let her ſee ſhe was a much more vitious Woman than the Perſon ſhe ſpoke of.

Madam, ſaid I, you are very ſevere to this poor young Woman, for a Treſpaſs which I believe Heaven has forgiven her, and for which you ſee ſhe is for ever out of Countenance. Nay, Mr. Bick⯑erſtaff, ſhe interrupted, If you at this Time of Day contradict People of Virtue, and ſtand up for ill Women—No, no, Madam, ſaid I, not ſo faſt, ſhe is reclaimed, and I fear you never will be. Nay, nay, Madam, do not be in a Paſſion, but let me tell you what you are. You are indeed as good as your Neighbours, but that is being very bad. You are a Woman at the Head of a Family, and lead a perfect Town Lady's Life. You go on your own Way, and conſult nothing but your Glaſs. What Imperfections indeed you ſee there, you immediately mend as faſt as you can. You may do the ſame by the Faults I tell you of, for they are much more in your Power to correct.

[93] You are to know then, that you Viſiting Ladies, that carry your Virtue from Houſe to Houſe with ſo much Prattle in each other's Applauſe, and tri⯑umph over other People's Faults, I grant you have but the Speculation of Vice in your own Conver⯑ſations, but, promote the Practice of it in all others you have to do with.

As for you, Madam, your Time paſſes away in Dreſſing, Eating, Sleeping, and Praying. When you riſe in Morning, I grant you an Hour ſpent very well; but you come out to dreſs in ſo fro⯑ward a Humour, that the poor Girl who attends you, curſes her very Being in that ſhe is your Ser⯑vant, for the peeviſh Things you ſay to her. When this poor Creature is put into a Way, that Good or Evil are regarded but as they relieve her from the Hours ſhe has and muſt paſs with you. The next you have to do with, is your Coachman and Footmen. They convey your Ladyſhip to Church. While you are praying there, they are curſing, ſwearing, and drinking in an Ale-houſe. During the Time alſo which your Ladyſhip ſets apart for Heaven, you are to know, that your Cook is ſweating and fretting in Preparation for your Dinner. Soon after your Meal you make Viſits, and the whole World that belongs to you ſpeaks all the Ill of you which you are repeating of o⯑thers. You ſee, Madam, whatever Way you go, all about you are in a very broad one. The Mora⯑lity of theſe People it is your proper Buſineſs to enquire into; and till you reform them, you had beſt let your Equals alone; otherwiſe, if I allow you you are not vitious, you muſt allow me you are not virtuous.

I took my Leave, and received at my coming Home the following Letter:

I muſt defer my Anſwer to this Lady out of a Point of Chronology. She ſays, ſhe has been Twenty Seven Years a Maid; but I fear, according to a common Error, ſhe dates her Virginity from her Birth, which is a very erroneous Method; for a Woman of Twenty is no more to be thought chaſt ſo many Years, than a Man of that Age can be ſaid to have been ſo long Valiant. We muſt not allow People the Favour of a Virtue till they have been under the Temptation to the contrary. A Woman is not a Maid till her Birth-Day, as we call it, of her Fifteenth Year. My Plaintiff is there⯑fore deſired to inform me, whether ſhe is at pre⯑ſent in her Twenty eighth or Forty third Year, and ſhe ſhall be diſpatched accordingly.

A Merchant came hither this Morning, and read a Letter from a Correſpondent of his at Milan. It was dated of the 7th Inſtant. N. S. The following is an Abſtract of it. On the 25th of the laſt Month Five Thouſand Men were on their March in the Lampourdan, under the Command of General We⯑ſell, having received Orders from his Catholick Majeſty to join him in his Camp with all poſſible [95] Expedition. The Duke of Anjou ſoon had Intelli⯑gence of their Motion, and took a Reſolution to decamp, in order to intercept them, within a Day's March of our Army. The King of Spain was ap⯑prehenſive the Enemy might make ſuch a Move⯑ment, and commanded General Stanhope with a Body of Horſe, conſiſting of Fourteen Squadrons, to obſerve their Courſe, and prevent their Paſſage over the Rivers Segra and Noguera between Larida and Balaguer. It happened to be the firſt Day that Officer had appeared Abroad after a dangerous and violent Fever; but he received the King's Com⯑mands on this Occaſion with a Joy which ſur⯑mounted his preſent Weakneſs, and on the 27th of laſt Month came up with the Enemy on the Plains of Balaguer. The Duke of Anjou's Rear-Guard conſiſting of Twenty ſix Squadrons, that General ſent Intelligence of their Poſture to the King, and deſired his Majeſty's Orders to attack them. During the Time which he waited for his Inſtructions, he made his Diſpoſition for the Charge, which was to divide themſelves into Three Bodies; One to be commanded by himſelf in the Center, a Body on the Right by Count Mau⯑rice of Naſſau, and the Third on the Left by the Earl of Rochford. Upon the Receipt of his Ma⯑jeſty's Direction to attack the Enemy, the General himſelf charged with the utmoſt Vigour and Re⯑ſolution, while the Earl of Rochford and Count Maurice extended themſelves on his Right and Left, to prevent the Advantage the Enemy might make of the Superiority of their Numbers. What appears to have miſled the Enemy's General in this Affair was, that it was not ſuppoſed practicable that the Confederates would attack him till they had received a Reinforcement. For this Reaſon he purſued his March without facing about, till we were actually coming on to Engagement. Gene⯑ral Stanhope's Diſpoſition made it impracticable to do it at that Time, Count Maurice and the Earl [96] of Rochford attacking them in the Inſtant in which they were forming themſelves. The Charge was made with the greateſt Gallantry, and the Enemy very ſoon put into ſo great Diſorder, that their whole Cavalry were commanded to ſupport their Rear-Guard. Upon the Advance of this Rein⯑forcement, all the Horſe of the King of Spain were come up to ſuſtain General Stanhope, inſo⯑much that the Battle improved to a general En⯑gagement of the Cavalry of both Armies. After a warm Diſpute for ſome Time, it ended in the utter Defeat of all the Duke of Anjou's Horſe. Upon the Diſpatch of theſe Advices, that Prince was retiring towards Lerida. We have no Ac⯑count of any conſiderable Loſs on our Side, except that both thoſe Heroick Youths, the Earl of Roch⯑ford and Count Naſſau, fell in this Action. They were, you know, both Sons of Perſons who had a great Place in the Confidence of your late King William; and I doubt not but their Deaths will endear their Families, which were ennobled by him, in your Nation. General Stanhope has been reported by the Enemy dead of his Wounds; but he received only a ſlight Contuſion on the Shoul⯑der.

P. S. We acknowledge you here a mighty brave People; but you are ſaid to love quarrelling ſo well, that you cannot be quiet at Home. The Favourers of the Houſe of Bourbon among us affirm, That this Stanhope, who could as it were get out of his ſick Bed to fight againſt their King of Spain, muſt be of the Antimonarchical Party.

IF there were no other Conſequence of it, but barely that Humane Creatures on this Day aſ⯑ſemble themſelves before their Creator, with⯑out Regard to their uſual Employments, their Minds at Leiſure from the Cares of this Life, and their Bodies adorned with the beſt Attire they can beſtow on them; I ſay, were this meer outward Celebration of a Sabbath all that is ex⯑pected from Men, even that were a laudable Di⯑ſtinction, and a Purpoſe worthy the Humane Na⯑ture. But when there is added to it the ſublime Pleaſure of Devotion, our Being is exalted above it ſelf; and he who ſpends a Seventh Day in the Contemplation of the next Life, will not eaſily fall into the Corruptions of this in the other Six. They who never admit Thoughts of this Kind into their Imagination, loſe higher and ſweeter Satisfactions than can be raiſed by any other En⯑tertainment. The moſt illiterate Man who is touched with Devotion, and uſes frequent Exer⯑ciſes of it, contracts a certain Greatneſs of Mind, mingled with a noble Simplicity, that raiſes him above thoſe of the ſame Condition; and there is an indelible Mark of Goodneſs in thoſe who ſin⯑cerely poſſeſs it. It is hardly poſſible it ſhould be otherwiſe; for the Fervours of a pious Mind will naturally contract ſuch an Earneſtneſs and Attention towards a better Being, as will make [98] the ordinary Paſſages of Life go off with a be⯑coming Indifference. By this, a Man in the loweſt Condition will not appear mean, or in the moſt ſplendid Fortune, inſolent.

As to all the Intricacies and Viciſſitudes under which Men are ordinarily intangled with the ut⯑moſt Sorrow and Paſſion, one who is devoted to Heaven when he falls into ſuch Difficulties is led by a Clue through a Labyrinth. As to this World, he does not pretend to Skill in the Mazes of it, but fixes his Thoughts upon one Certainty, that he ſhall ſoon be out of it. And we may ask very boldly, What can be a more ſure Conſola⯑tion than to have an Hope in Death? When Men are arrived at thinking of their very Diſſolution with Pleaſure, how few Things are there that can be terrible to them? Certainly nothing can be dreadful to ſuch Spirits, but what would make Death terrible to them, Falſhood towards Man, or Impiety towards Heaven. To ſuch as theſe, as there are certainly many ſuch, the Gratifications of innocent Pleaſures are doubled, even with Re⯑flections upon their Imperfection. The Diſap⯑pointments which naturally attend the great Pro⯑miſes we make our ſelves in expected Enjoy⯑ments, ſtrike no Damp upon ſuch Men, but only quicken their Hopes of ſoon knowing Joys, which are too pure to admit of Allay or Sa⯑tiety.

It is thought among the politer Part of Man⯑kind an Imperfection to want a Reliſh of any of thoſe Things which refine our Lives. This is the Foundation of the Acceptance which Eloquence, Muſick, and Poetry, make in the World; and I know not why Devotion, conſidered meerly as an Exaltation of our Happineſs, ſhould not at leaſ [...] be ſo far regarded as to be conſidered. It is poſ⯑ſible the very Enquiry would lead Men into ſuc [...] Thoughts and Gratifications as they did not ex⯑pect to meet with in this Place. Many a goo [...] [99] Acquaintance has been loſt from a general Pre⯑poſſeſſion in his Disfavour, and a ſevere Aſpect has often hid under it a very agreeable Compa⯑nion.

There are no diſtinguiſhing Qualities among Men to which there are not falſe Pretenders; but tho' none is more pretended to than that of De⯑votion, there are, perhaps, fewer ſucceſsful Im⯑poſtors in this Kind than any other. There is ſomething ſo natively great and good in a Perſon that is truly devout, that an aukward Man may as well pretend to be genteel, as an Hypocrite to be pious. The Conſtraint in Words and Actions are equally viſible in both Caſes, and any Thing ſet up in their Room does but remove the En⯑deavourers the further off their Pretenſions. But however the Senſe of true Piety is abated, there is no other Motive of Action that can carry us through all the Viciſſitudes of Life with Alacrity and Reſolution. But Piety, like Philoſophy, when it is ſuperficial, does but make Men ap⯑pear the worſe for it; and a Principle that is but half received, does but diſtract, inſtead of gui⯑ding our Behaviour. When I reflect upon the unequal Conduct of Lotius, I ſee many Things that run directly counter to his Intereſt; there⯑fore I cannot attribute his Labours for the publick Good to Ambition. When I conſider his Diſre⯑gard to his Fortune, I cannot eſteem him cove⯑tous. How then can I reconcile his Neglect of himſelf, and his Zeal for others? I have long ſuſpected him to be a little Pious: But no Man ever hid his Vice with greater Caution than he does his Virtue. It was the Praiſe of a great Ro⯑man, That he had rather be, than appear good. But ſuch is the Weakneſs of Lotius, that I dare ſay, he had rather be eſteemed irreligious, than devout. By I know not what Impatience of Rail⯑ [...]ery he is wonderfully fearful of being thought [...]oo great a Believer. A Hundred little Devices [100] are made uſe of to hide a Time of private Devo⯑tion; and he will allow you any Suſpicion of his being ill employed, ſo you do not tax him with being well. But alas! How mean is ſuch a Be⯑haviour? To boaſt of Virtue is a moſt ridiculous Way of diſappointing the Merit of it, but not ſo pitiful as that of being aſhamed of it. How un⯑happy is the Wretch who makes the moſt abſo⯑lute and independent Motive of Action the Cauſe of Perplexity and Inconſtancy? How much ano⯑ther Figure does Caelicola make with all who know him? His great and ſuperior Mind, fre⯑quently exalted by the Raptures of Heavenly Me⯑ditation, is to all his Friends of the ſame Uſe as if an Angel were to appear at the Deciſion of their Diſputes. They very well underſtand he is as much diſintereſted and unbiaſs'd as ſuch a Be⯑ing. He conſiders all Applications made to him, as thoſe Addreſſes will effect his own Applica⯑tion to Heaven. All his Determinations are de⯑liver'd with a beautiful Humility; and he pro⯑nounces his Deciſions with the Air of one who is more frequently a Supplicant than a Judge.

Thus humble, and thus great, is the Man who is moved by Piety, and exalted by Devotion. But behold this recommended by the maſterly Hand of a great Divine I have heretofore made bold with.

I Have had much Importunity to anſwer the following Letter.

I think the Lady's Brother has given us a very good Idea of that elegant Expreſſion, it being the greateſt Beauty of Speech to be cloſe and intelli⯑gible. To this End nothing is to be more care⯑fully conſulted than Plainneſs. In a Lady's At⯑tire this is the ſingle Excellence; for to be what ſome call fine, is the ſame Vice in that Caſe, as to be florid is in Writing or Speaking. I have ſtudied and writ on this important Subject till I almoſt deſpair of making a Reformation in the Females of this Iſland, where we have more Beauty than in any Spot in the Univerſe, if we did not diſguiſe it by falſe Garniture, and detract from it by impertinent Improvements. I have by me a Treatiſe concerning Pinners, which I have ſome Hopes will contribute to the Amend⯑ment of the preſent Head-dreſſes, to which I have ſolid and unanſwerable Objections. But moſt of the Errors in that and other Particulars of adorning the Head, are crept into the World from the Ignorance of modern Tirewomen; for it is come to that Paſs, that an aukward Crea⯑ture in the firſt Year of her Apprenticeſhip, that can hardly ſtick a Pin, ſhall take upon her to dreſs a Woman of the Firſt Quality. However it is certain, that there requires in a good Tire⯑woman a perfect Skill in Opticks; for all the Force of Ornament is to contribute to the Inten⯑tion of the Eyes. Thus ſhe who has a Mind to look killing, muſt arm her Face accordingly, and not leave her Eyes and Cheeks undreſſed. Ther [...] is Araminta ſo ſenſible of this, that ſhe neve [...] [103] will ſee even her own Husband without a Hood on. Can any one living bear to ſee Miſs Gruel, lean as ſhe is, with her Hair tied back after the modern Way? But ſuch is the Folly of our La⯑dies, that becauſe one who is a Beauty, out of Oſtentation of her being ſuch, takes Care to wear ſomething that ſhe knows cannot be of any Conſequence to her Complexion; I ſay, our Wo⯑men run on ſo heedleſly in the Faſhion, that tho' it is the Intereſt of ſome to hide as much of their Faces as poſſible, yet becauſe a leading Toaſt ap⯑peared with a backward Head-dreſs, the reſt ſhall follow the Mode, without obſerving that the Author of the Faſhion aſſumed it becauſe it could become no one but her ſelf.

Flavia is ever well dreſſed, and always the gentileſt Woman you meet: But the Make of her Mind very much contributes to the Ornament of her Body. She has the greateſt Simplicity of Manners of any of her Sex. This makes every Thing look native about her, and her Cloaths are ſo exactly fitted, that they appear as it were Part of her Perſon. Every one that ſees her, knows her to be of Quality; but her Diſtinction is owing to her Manner, and not to her Habit. Her Beauty is full of Attraction, but not of Al⯑lurement. There is ſuch a Compoſure in her Looks, and Propriety in her Dreſs, that you would think it impoſſible ſhe ſhould change the Garb you one Day ſee her in for any Thing ſo becoming, till you next Day ſee her in another. There is no other Myſtery in this, but that how⯑ever ſhe is apparelled, ſhe is her ſelf the ſame: For there is ſo immediate a Relation between our Thoughts and Geſtures, that a Woman muſt think well to look well.

But this weighty Subject I muſt put off for ſome other Matters in which my Correſpondents are urgent for Anſwers, which I ſhall do where I [104] can, and appeal to the Judgment of others where I cannot.

THere has of late crept in among the downright Engliſh, a mighty Spirit of Diſſimulation. But before we diſcourſe of this Vice, it will be ne⯑ceſſary to obſerve, that the Learned make a Dif⯑ference between Simulation and Diſſimulation. Si⯑mulation is a Pretence of what is not, and Diſ⯑ſimulation a Concealment of what is. The lat⯑ter [106] is our preſent Affair. When you look round you in publick Places in this Iſland, you ſee the Generality of Mankind carry in their Counte⯑nance an Air of Challenge or Defiance: And there is no ſuch Man to be found among us who naturally ſtrives to do greater Honours and Civi⯑lities than he receives. This innate Sullenneſs or Stubborneſs of Complexion is hardly to be con⯑quered by any of our Iſlanders. For which Rea⯑ſon, however they may pretend to chooſe one another, they make but very aukward Rogues; and their Diſlike to each other is ſeldom ſo well diſſembled, but it is ſuſpected. When once it is ſo, it had as good be profeſſed. A Man who diſ⯑ſembles well, muſt have none of what we call Stomach, otherwiſe he will be cold in his Pro⯑feſſions of Good-Will where he hates; an Imper⯑fection of the laſt ill Conſequence in Buſineſs. This Fierceneſs in our Natures is apparent from the Conduct of our young Fellows, who are not got into the Schemes and Arts of Life which the Children of this World walk by. One would think that of Courſe, when a Man of any Con⯑ſequence for his Figure, his Mien, or his Gravity, paſſes by a Youth, he ſhould certainly have the firſt Advances of Salutation; but he is, you may obſerve, treated in a quite different Manner, it being the very Characteriſtick of an Engliſh Temper to defy. As I am an Engliſhman, I find it a very hard Matter to bring my ſelf to pull off the Hat firſt; but it is the only Way to be upon any good Terms with thoſe we meet with: There⯑fore the firſt Advance is of high Moment. Men judge of others by themſelves; and he that will command with us, muſt condeſcend. It moves ones Spleen very agreeably to ſee Fellows pre⯑tend to be Diſſemblers without this Leſſon. They are ſo reſervedly complaiſant till they have learn⯑ed to reſign their natural Paſſions, that all the Steps they make towards gaining thoſe whom [107] they would be well with, are but ſo many Marks of what they really are, and not of what they would appear.

The rough Britains, when they pretend to be artful towards one another, are ridiculous enough; but when they ſet up for Vices they have not, and diſſemble their Good with an Affectation of Ill, they are inſupportable. I know Two Men in this Town who make as good Figures as any in it, that manage their Credit ſo well as to be thought Atheiſts, and yet ſay their Prayers Mor⯑ning and Evening. Tom. Springly t'other Day pretended to go to an Aſſignation with a married Woman at Roſamond's-Pond, and was ſeen ſoon after reading the Reſponſes with great Gravity at Six of Clock Prayers.

Though the following Epiſtle bears a juſt Ac⯑cuſation of my ſelf, yet in regard it is a more ad⯑vantagious Piece of Juſtice to another, I inſert it at large.

IN every Party there are Two Sorts of Men, the Rigid and the Supple. The Rigid are an intractable Race of Mortals, who act upon Prin⯑ciple, and will not, forſooth, fall into any Mea⯑ſures that are not conſiſtent with their received [110] Notions of Honour. Theſe are Perſons of a ſtub⯑born, unpliant Morality, that ſullenly adhere to their Friends when they are diſgraced, and to their Principles, tho' they are exploded. I ſhall therefore give up this ſtiff-necked Generation to their own Obſtinacy, and turn my Thoughts to the Advantage of the Supple, who pay their Ho⯑mage to Places, and not Perſons; and without enſlaving themſelves to any particular Scheme of Opinions, are as ready to change their Conduct in Point of Sentiment, as of Faſhion. The well⯑diſciplined Part of a Court are generally ſo per⯑fect at their Exerciſe, that you may ſee a whole Aſſembly, from Front to Rear, face about at once to a new Man of Power, tho' at the ſame Time they turn their Backs upon him that brought them thither. The great Hardſhip theſe com⯑plaiſant Members of Society are under, ſeems to be the Want of Warning upon any approaching Change or Revolution; ſo that they are obliged in a Hurry to tack about with every Wind, and ſtop ſhort in the Midſt of a full Career, to the great Surprize and Deriſion of their Beholders.

When a Man foreſees a decaying Miniſtry, he has Leiſure to grow a Malecontent, reflect upon the preſent Conduct, and by gradual Murmurs fall off from his Friends into a new Party, by juſt Steps and Meaſures. For Want of ſuch No⯑tices, I have formerly known a very well-bred Perſon refuſe to return a Bow of a Man whom he thought in Diſgrace, that was next Day made Se⯑cretary of State; and another, who after a long Neglect of a Miniſter, came to his Levee, and made Profeſſions of Zeal for his Service the very Day before he was turned out.

This produces alſo unavoidable Confuſions and Miſtakes in the Deſcriptions of great Mens Parts and Merits. That ancient Lyrick, Mr. D'Urfey, ſome Years ago writ a Dedication to a certain Lord, in which he celebrated him for the greateſt [111] Poet and Critick of that Age, upon a Miſinfor⯑mation in Dyer's Letter, that his noble Patron was made Lord Chamberlain. In ſhort, innume⯑rable Votes Speeches, and Sermons, have been thrown away, and turned to no Account, meerly for Want of due and timely Intelligence. Nay it has been known, that a Panegyrick has been half printed off, when the Poet, upon the Removal of the Miniſter, has been forced to alter it into a Satyr.

For the Conduct therefore of ſuch uſeful Per⯑ſons as are ready to do their Country Service up⯑on all Occaſions, I have an Engine in my Study, which is a Sort of a Political Barometer, or, to ſpeak more intelligibly, a State Weather-Glaſs, that, by the riſing and falling of a certain Magi⯑cal Liquor, preſages all Changes and Revolu⯑tions in Government, as the common Glaſs does thoſe of the Weather. This Weather-Glaſs is ſaid to have been invented by Cardan, and given by him as a Preſent to his great Countryman and Contemporary Machiavel, which (by the Way) may ſerve to rectify a received Error in Chronology, that places one of theſe ſome Years after the other. How or when it came into my Hands, I ſhall deſire to be excuſed, if I keep to my ſelf; but ſo it is, that I have walked by it for the better Part of a Century, to my Safety at leaſt, if not to my Advantage; and have among my Papers, a Regiſter of all the Changes that have happened in it from the Middle of Queen Elizabeth's Reign.

In the Time of that Princeſs, it ſtood long at ſettled Fair. At the latter End of King James the Firſt, it fell to Cloudy. It held ſeveral Years after at Stormy; inſomuch that at laſt deſpairing of ſeeing any Clear Weather at Home, I follow'd the Royal Exile, and ſome Time after finding my Glaſs riſe, returned to my native Country with the reſt of the Loyaliſts. I was then in [112] Hopes to paſs the Remainder of my Days in ſet⯑tled Fair: But alas! during the greateſt Part of that Reign, the Engliſh Nation lay in a dead Calm, which, as it is uſual, was followed by high Winds and Tempeſts till of late Years: In which, with unſpeakable Joy and Satisfaction, I have ſeen our Political Weather returned to ſettled Fair. I muſt only obſerve, that for all this laſt Summer my Glaſs has pointed at Changeable. Upon the whole, I often apply to Fortune Aenaeas's Speech to the Sybil:

The Advantages which have accured to thoſe whom I have adviſed in their Affairs, by Vertue of this Sort of Praeſcience, have been very conſi⯑derable. A Nephew of mine, who has never put his Money into the Stocks, or taken it out, without my Advice, has in a few Years raiſed Five hundred Pounds to almoſt ſo many Thou⯑ſands. As for my ſelf, who look upon Riches to conſiſt rather in Content than Poſſeſſions, and meaſure the Greatneſs of the Mind rather by its Tranquility than its Ambition. I have ſeldom uſed my Glaſs to make my Way in the World, but often to retire from it. This is a By-Path to Happineſs, which was firſt diſcovered to me by a moſt pleaſing Apothegm of Pythagoras: When the Winds, ſays he, riſe, worſhip the Eccho. That great Philoſopher (whether to make his Doctrines the more venerable, or to guild his Precepts with the Beauty of Imagination, or to awaken the Curioſity of his Diſciples; for I will not ſup⯑poſe what is uſually ſaid, that he did it to conceal his Wiſdom from the Vulgar) has couched ſeve⯑ral admirable Precepts in remote Alluſions and myſterious Sentences. By the Winds in this Apo⯑thegm, are meant State-Hurricanes and popular [113] Tumults. When theſe ariſe, ſays he, worſhip the Eccho; that is, withdraw your ſelf from the Multitude into Deſerts, Woods, Solitudes, or the like Retirements, which are the uſual Habitations of the Eccho.

LYſander has writ to me out of the Country, and tells me, after many other Circum⯑ſtances, that he had paſſed a great deal of Time with much Pleaſure and Tranquility, till his Happineſs was interrupted by an indiſcreet Flat⯑terer, who came down into thoſe Parts to viſit a Relation. With the Circumſtances in which he repreſents the Matter, he had no ſmall Provoca⯑tion to be offended, for he attacked him in ſo wrong a Seaſon, that he could not have any Re⯑liſh of Pleaſure in it; tho', perhaps, at another Time, it might have paſſed upon him without giving him much Uneaſineſs. Lyſander had, af⯑ter a long Satiety of the Town, been ſo happy as to get to a Solitude he extremely liked, and re⯑covered a Pleaſure he had long diſcontinued, that of Reading. He was got to the Bank of a Ri⯑vulet, covered by a pleaſing Shade, and fanned by a ſoft Breeze, which threw his Mind into that Sort of Compoſure and Attention, in which a Man, though with Indolence, enjoys the utmoſt Livelineſs of his Spirits, and the greateſt Strength of his Mind at the ſame Time. In this State, Lyſander repreſents that he was reading Virgil's Georgicks; when on a ſudden the Gentleman abovementioned ſurpriſed him, and, without any [114] Manner of Preparation, falls upon him at once, ‘'What! I have found you out at laſt, after ſearching all over the Wood. We wanted you at Cards after Dinner, but you are much better employed. I have heard indeed that you are an excellent Scholar: But at the ſame Time, is it not a little unkind to rob the Ladies, who like you ſo well, of the Pleaſure of your Com⯑pany? But that is indeed the Misfortune of you great Scholars, you are ſeldom ſo fit for the World, as thoſe who never trouble themſelves with Books. Well, I ſee you are taken up with your Learning there, and I'll leave you.'’ Ly⯑ſander ſays, he made him no Anſwer, but took a Reſolution to complain to me.

It is a ſubſtantial Affliction, when Men govern themſelves by the Rules of good Breeding, that by the very Force of them they are ſubjected to the Inſolence of thoſe who either never will, or never can, underſtand them. The ſuperficial Part of Mankind form to themſelves little Mea⯑ſures of Behaviour from the Outſide of Things. By the Force of theſe narrow Conceptions, they act amongſt themſelves with Applauſe, and do not apprehend they are contemptible to thoſe of higher Underſtanding, who are reſtrained by De⯑cencies above their Knowledge from ſhowing a Diſlike. Hence it is, that becauſe Complaiſance is a good Quality in Converſation, one Imperti⯑nent takes upon him on all Occaſions to com⯑mend; and becauſe Mirth is agreeable, another thinks fit eternally to jeſt. I have of late re⯑ceived many Packets of Letters complaining of theſe ſpreading Evils. A Lady who is lately ar⯑rived at the Bath acquaints me, there was in the Stage-Coach wherein ſhe went down a common Flatterer, and a common Jeſter. Theſe Gentle⯑men were (ſhe tells me) Rivals in her Favour and adds, If there ever happened a Caſe wherein of Two Perſons One was not liked more than [115] another, it was in that Journey. They differed only in Proportion to the Degree of Diſlike be⯑tween the Nauſeous and the Inſipid. Both theſe Characters of Men are born out of a Barrenneſs of Imagination. They are never Fools by Na⯑ture, but become ſuch out of an impotent Ambi⯑tion of being what ſhe never intended them, Men of Wit and Converſation. I therefore think fit to declare, That according to the known Laws of this Land, a Man may be a very honeſt Gen⯑tleman, and enjoy himſelf and his Friend, with⯑out being a Wit; and I abſolve all Men from ta⯑king Pains to be ſuch for the future. As the pre⯑ſent Caſe ſtands, is it not very unhappy that Ly⯑ſander muſt be attacked and applauded in a Wood, and Corinna jolted and commended in a Stage-Coach; and this for no manner of Reaſon, but becauſe other People have a Mind to ſhow their Parts? I grant indeed, if theſe People (as they have Underſtanding enough for it) would confine their Accompliſhments to thoſe of their own Degree of Talents, it were to be tolerated; but when they are ſo inſolent as to interrupt the Meditations of the Wiſe, the Converſations of the Agreeable, and the whole Behaviour of the Modeſt, it becomes a Grievance naturally in my Juriſdiction. Among themſelves, I cannot only overlook, but approve it. I was preſent the o⯑ther Day at a Converſation, where a Man of this Height of Breeding and Senſe told a young Wo⯑man of the ſame Form, To be ſure, Madam, eve⯑ry Thing muſt pleaſe that comes from a Lady. She anſwer'd, I know, Sir, you are ſo much a Gentleman that you think ſo. Why, this is very well on both Sides; and it is impoſſible that ſuch a Gentleman and Lady ſhould do other than think well of one another, Theſe are but looſe Hints of the Diſturbances in humane Society, of which there is yet no Remedy: But I ſhall in a little Time publiſh Tables of Reſpect and Civility, by [116] which Perſons may be inſtructed in the proper Times and Seaſons, as well as at what Degree of Intimacy a Man may be allowed to commend or rally his Companions; the promiſcuous Licence of which is at preſent far from being among the ſmall Errors in Converſation.

P. S. The following Letter was left, with a Re⯑queſt to be immediately anſwered, leſt the Arti⯑fices uſed againſt a Lady in Diſtreſs may come into common Practice.

[117] The Caſe is very hard; and I fear, the Plea ſhe is adviſed to make, from the Similitude of a Man who is in Dureſſe, will not prevail. But tho' I deſpair of Remedy as to the Mother, the Law gives the Child his Choice of his Father where the Birth is thus legally ambiguous.

Before I anſwer this Petition, I am inclined to examine the Offenders my ſelf.

NAture is full of Wonders; every Atom is a ſtanding Miracle, and endowed with ſuch Qualities, as could not be impreſſed on it by a Power and Wiſdom leſs than Infinite. For this Reaſon, I would not diſcourage any Searches that are made into the moſt minute and trivial Parts of the Creation. However, ſince the World a⯑bounds in the nobleſt Fields of Speculation, it is, methinks, the Mark of a little Genius to be wholly converſant among Inſects, Reptiles, Ani⯑malcules, and thoſe trifling Rarities that furniſh out the Apartment of a Virtuoſo.

There are ſome Men whoſe Heads are ſo odly turned this Way, that tho' they are utter Stran⯑gers to the common Occurrences of Life, they are able to diſcover the Sex of a Cockle, or de⯑ſcribe the Generation of a Mite, in all its Circum⯑ſtances. They are ſo little verſed in the World, that they ſcarce know a Horſe from an Ox; but at the ſame Time will tell you, with a great deal of Gravity, That a Flea is a Rhinoceros, and a Snail an Hermaphrodite. I have known one of theſe whimſical Philoſophers who has ſet a great⯑er Value upon a Collection of Spiders than he would upon a Collection of Spiders than he would upon a Flock of Sheep, and has ſold his Coat off his Back to purchaſe a Tarantula.

I would not have a Scholar wholly unacquaint⯑ed with theſe Secrets and Curioſities of Nature; but certainly the Mind of Man, that is capable of [119] ſo much higher Contemplations, ſhould not be altogether fixed upon ſuch mean and diſpropor⯑tioned Objects. Obſervations of this Kind are apt to alienate us too much from the Knowledge of the World, and to make us ſerious upon Tri⯑fles, by which Means they expoſe Philoſophy to the Ridicule of the Witty, and Contempt of the Ignorant. In ſhort, Studies of this Nature ſhould be the Diverſions, Relaxations, and Amuſements; not the Care, Buſineſs, and Concern of Life.

It is indeed wonderful to conſider, that there ſhould be a Sort of learned Men who are wholly employed in gathering together the Refuſe of Na⯑ture, if I may call it ſo, and hoarding up in their Cheſts and Cabinets ſuch Creatures as others in⯑duſtriouſly avoid the Sight of. One does not know how to mention ſome of the moſt precious Parts of their Treaſure, without a Kind of an Apology for it. I have been ſhown a Beetle va⯑lued at Twenty Crowns, and a Toad at an Hun⯑dred; But we muſt take this for a general Rule, That whatever appears trivial or obſcene in the common Notions of the World, looks grave and philoſophical in the Eye of a Virtuoſo.

To ſhow this Humour in its Perfection, I ſhall preſent my Reader with the Legacy of a certain Virtuoſo, who laid out a conſiderable Eſtate in natural Rarities and Curioſities, which upon his Death-Bed he bequeathed to his Relations and Friends, in the following Words:

AS I was paſſing by a Neighbour's Houſe this Morning, I overheard the Wife of the Fa⯑mily ſpeak Things to her Husband which gave me much Diſturbance, and put me in Mind of a Character which I wonder I have ſo long omit⯑ted, and that is, an outragious Species of the Fair Sex which is diſtinguiſhed by the Term Scolds. The Generality of Women are by Na⯑ture loquacious: Therefore meer Volubility of Speech is not to be imputed to them, but ſhould be conſidered with Pleaſure when it is uſed to ex⯑preſs ſuch Paſſions as tend to ſweeten or adorn Converſation: But when, thro' Rage, Females are vehement in their Eloquence, nothing in the World has ſo ill an Effect upon the Features; for by the Force of it, I have ſeen the moſt Amiable become the moſt Deformed; and ſhe that ap⯑peared one of the Graces, immediately turned into one of the Furies. I humbly conceive, the great Cauſe of this Evil may proceed from a falſe Notion the Ladies have of what we call a Modeſt Woman. They have too narrow a Conception of this lovely Character, and believe they have not at all forfeited their Pretenſions to it, provided they have no Imputations on their Chaſtity. But alas! the young Fellows know they pick out bet⯑ter Women in the Side-Boxes, than many of thoſe who paſs upon the World and themſelves for Mo⯑deſt.

[123] Modeſty never rages, never murmurs, never pouts: When it is ill treated, it pines, it be⯑ſeeches, it languiſhes. The Neighbour I men⯑tion is one of your common modeſt Women, that is to ſay, thoſe as are ordinarily reckoned ſuch. Her Husband knows every Pain in Life with her but Jealouſy. Now becauſe ſhe is clear in this Particular, the Man can't ſay his Soul's his own, but ſhe cries, No modeſt Woman is reſpected now a-days. What adds to the Comedy in this Caſe is, that it is very ordinary with this Sort of Women to talk in the Language of Diſtreſs: They will complain of the forlorn Wretchedneſs of their Condition, and then the poor helpleſs Creatures ſhall throw the next Thing they can lay their Hands on at the Perſon who offends them. Our Neighbour was only ſaying to his Wife, ſhe went a little too fine, when ſhe imme⯑diately pulled his Periwig off, and ſtamping it under her Feet, wrung her Hands, and ſaid, Ne⯑ver modeſt Woman was ſo uſed: Theſe Ladies of irreſiſtible Modeſty are thoſe who make Vir⯑tue unamiable; not that they can be ſaid to be virtuous, but as they live without Scandal; and being under the common Denomination of being ſuch, Men fear to meet their Faults in thoſe who are as agreeable as they are innocent.

I take the Bully among Men, and the Scold a⯑mong Women, to draw the Foundation of their Actions from the ſame Defect in the Mind A Bully thinks Honour conſiſts wholly in being brave, and therefore has Regard to no one Rule of Life, if he preſerves himſelf from the Accuſa⯑tion of Cowardize. The froward Woman knows Chaſtity to be the firſt Merit in a Woman; and therefore, ſince no one can call her one ugly Name, ſhe calls all Mankind all the reſt.

Theſe Ladies, where their Companions are ſo imprudent as to take their Speeches for any other than Exerciſes of their own Lungs, and their [124] Husbands Patience, gain by the Force of being reſiſted, and flame with open Fury, which is no Way to be oppoſed but by being neglected: Tho' at the ſame Time Humane Frailty makes it very hard to reliſh the Philoſophy of contemning even frivolous Reproach. There is a very pretty In⯑ſtance of this Infirmity in the Man of the beſt Senſe that ever was, no leſs a Perſon than Adam himſelf. According to Milton's Deſcription of the Firſt Couple, as ſoon as they had fallen, and the turbulent Paſſions of Anger, Hatred, and Jea⯑louſy, firſt enter'd their Breaſts, Adam grew moody, and talked to his Wife, as you may find it in the 359th Page, and 9th Book, of Paradiſe Leſt, in the Octave Edition, which out of He⯑roicks, and put into Domeſtick Stile, would run thus:

‘'Madam, If my Advice had been of any Au⯑thority with you when that ſtrange Deſire of Gadding poſſeſſed you this Morning, we had ſtill been happy: But your curſed Vanity and Opi⯑nion of your own Conduct, which is certainly very wavering when it ſeeks Occaſions of being proved, has ruined both your ſelf, and me who truſted you.'’

Eve had no Fan in her Hand to ruffle, or Tucker to pull down, but with a reproachful Air ſhe an⯑ſwered:

‘Sir, Do you impute that to my Deſire of Gad⯑ding, which might have happened to your ſelf with all your Wiſdom and Gravity?'’ The Ser⯑pent ſpoke ſo excellently, and with ſo good a Grace, that—Beſides, ‘'What Harm had I ever done him, that he ſhould deſign me any? Was I to have been always at your Side, I might as well have continued there, and been but your Rib ſtill: But if I was ſo weak a Creature as you thought me, Why did you not interpoſe your ſage Authority more abſolutely? [125] You denied me going as faintly, as you ſay I reſiſted the Serpent. Had not you been too eaſie, neither you or I had now tranſgreſſed.'’

Adam replied, ‘'Why, Eve. haſt thou the Im⯑pudence to upbraid me as the Cauſe of thy Tranſgreſſion for my Indulgence to thee? Thus it will ever be with him who truſts too much to Woman: At the ſame Time that ſhe refuſes to be governed, if ſhe ſuffers by her Oſtinacy, ſhe will accuſe the Man that ſhall leave her to her ſelf.'’

This to the Modern will appear but a very faint Piece of Conjugal Enmity; but you are to conſider, that they were but juſt begun to be an⯑gry, and they wanted new Words for expreſſing their new Paſſions. But her accuſing him of let⯑ting her go, and telling him how good a Speaker, and how fine a Gentleman the Devil was, we muſt reckon, allowing for the Improvements of Time, that ſhe gave him the ſame Provocation as if ſhe had called him Cuckold. The paſ⯑ſionate and familiar Terms with which the ſame Caſe, repeated daily for ſo many Thouſand Years, has furniſhed the preſent Generation, were not then in Uſe; but the Foundation of Debate has ever been the ſame, a Contention about their Merit and Wiſdom. Our general Mother was a Beauty, and hearing there was another now in the World, could not forbear (as Adam tells her) ſhowing her ſelf, though to the Devil, by whom the ſame Vanity made her liable to be be⯑trayed.

I cannot, with all the Help of Science and, Aſtrology, find any other Remedy for this Evil but what was the Medicine in this firſt Quarrel; which was, as appeared in the next Book, that [126] they were convinced of their being both weak, but one weaker than the other.

If it were poſſible that the Beauteous could but rage a little before a Glaſs, and ſee their pret⯑ty Countenances grow wild, it is not to be doubt⯑ed but it would have a very good Effect; but that would require Temper: For Lady Firebrand, upon obſerving her Features ſwell when her Maid vexed her the other Day, ſtamped her Dreſſing-Glaſs under her Feet. In this Caſe, when one of this Temper is moved, ſhe is like a Witch in an Operation, and makes all Things turn round with her. The very Fabrick is in a Vertigo when ſhe begins to charm. In an In⯑ſtant, whatever was the Occaſion that moved her Blood, ſhe has ſuch intolerable Servants, Betty is ſo aukward, Tom can't carry a Meſſage, and her Husband has ſo little Reſpect for her, that ſhe, poor Woman, is weary of this Life, and was born to be unhappy.

I Chanced to riſe very early one particular Morning this Summer, and took a Walk into the Country to divert my ſelf among the Fields and Meadows, while the Green was new, and the Flowers in their Bloom. As at this Seaſon of the Year every Lane is a beautiful Walk, and every Hedge full of Noſegays, I loſt my ſelf with a great deal of Pleaſure among ſeveral Thickets and Buſhes that were filled with a great Variety of Birds, and an agreeable Confuſion of Notes, which formed the pleaſanteſt Scene in the World to one who had paſs'd a whole Winter in Noiſe and Smoak. The Freſhneſs of the Dews that lay upon every Thing about me, with the cool Breath of the Morning, which inſpired the Birds with ſo many delightful Inſtincts, created in me the ſame Kind of animal Pleaſure, and made my Heart overflow with ſuch ſecret Emotions of Joy and Satisfaction as are not to be deſcribed or ac⯑counted for. On this Occaſion I could not but reflect upon a beautiful Simile in Milton:

[128] Thoſe who are converſant in the Writings of po⯑lite Authors, receive an additional Entertainment from the Country, as it revives in their Memories thoſe charming Deſcriptions with which ſuch Authors do frequently abound.

I was thinking of the foregoing beautiful Si⯑mile in Milton, and applying it to my ſelf, when I obſerved to the Windward of me a black Cloud falling to the Earth in long Trails of Rain, which made me betake my ſelf for Shelter to a Houſe which I ſaw at a little Diſtance from the Place where I was walking. As I ſat in the Porch, I heard the Voices of Two or Three Perſons, who ſeemed very earneſt in Diſcourſe. My Curioſity was raiſed when I heard the Names of Alexander the Great and Artaxerxes; and as their Talk ſeemed to run on ancient Heroes, I concluded there could not be any Secret in it; for which Reaſon I thought I might very fairly liſten to what they ſaid.

After ſeveral Parallels between great Men, which appeared to me altogether groundleſs and chimerical, I was ſurprized to hear one ſay, That he valued the Black Prince more than the Duke of Vendoſme. How the Duke of Vendoſme ſhould become a Rival of the Black Prince's, I could not conceive: And was more ſtartled when I heard a Second affirm with great Vehemence, That if the Emperor of Germany was not going off, he ſhould like him better than either of them. He added, That tho' the Seaſon was ſo changeable, the Duke of Marlborough was in blooming Beau⯑ty. I was wondering to my ſelf from whence they had received this odd Intelligence, eſpecial⯑ly when I heard them mention the Names of ſe⯑veral other great Generals, as the Prince of Heſſe, and the King of Sweden, who, they ſaid, were both running away. To which they added, what I entirely agreed with them in, That the Crown of France was very weak, but that the Mareſchal [129] Villars ſtill kept his Colours. At laſt one of them told the Company, If they would go along with him, he would ſhow them a Chimney-Sweeper and a Painted Lady in the ſame Bed, which he was ſure would very much pleaſe them. The Shower which had driven them, as well as my ſelf, into the Houſe, was now over: And as they were paſſing by me into the Garden, I asked them to let me be one of their Company.

The Gentleman of the Houſe told me, if I de⯑lighted in Flowers, it would be worth my while, for that he believed he could ſhow me ſuch a Blow of Tulips as was not to be matched in the whole Country.

I accepted the Offer, and immediately found that they had been talking in Terms of Garden⯑ing, and that the Kings and Generals they had mentioned were only ſo many Tulips, to which the Gardiners, according to their uſual Cuſtom, had given ſuch high Titles and Appellations of Honour.

I was very much pleaſed and aſtoniſhed at the glorious Show of theſe gay Vegetables, that aroſe in great Profuſion on all the Banks about us. Sometimes I conſidered them with the Eye of an ordinary Spectator as ſo many beautiful Objects, varniſhed over with a natural Gloſs, and ſtained with ſuch a Variety of Colours, as are not to be equalled in any artificial Dyes or Tinctures. Sometimes I conſidered every Leaf as an elabo⯑rate Piece of Tiſſue, in which the Threads and Fibres were woven together into different Confi⯑gurations, which gave a different Colouring to the Light as it glanced on the ſeveral Parts of the Surface. Sometimes I conſidered the whole Bed of Tulips, according to the Notion of the greateſt Mathematician and Philoſopher that ever lived, as a Multitude of Optick Inſtruments, deſigned for the ſeparating Light into all thoſe various Co⯑lours of which it is compoſed.

[130] I was awakened out of theſe my Philoſophical Speculations, by obſerving the Company often ſeemed to laugh at me. I accidentally praiſed a Tulip as one of the fineſt that I ever ſaw; upon which they told me, 'twas a common Fool's-Coat. Upon that I praiſed a Second, which it ſeems was but another Kind of Fool's-Coat. I had the ſame Fate with Two or Three more; for which Reaſon I deſired the Owner of the Garden to let me know which were the fineſt of the Flowers, for that I was ſo unskilful in the Art, that I thought the moſt beautiful were the moſt valua⯑ble, and that thoſe which had the gayeſt Colours were the moſt beautiful. The Gentleman ſmiled at my Ignorance: He ſeemed a very plain honeſt Man, and a Perſon of good Senſe, had not his Head been touched with that Diſtemper which Hippocrates calls the [...], Tulippomania; inſomuch that he would talk very rationally on any Subject in the World but a Tulip.

He told me, That he valued the Bed of Flowers which lay before us, and was not above Twenty Yards in Length, and Two in Breadth, more than he would the beſt Hundred Acres of Land in England; and added, That it would have been worth twice the Money it is, if a fooliſh Cook-Maid of his had not almoſt ruined him the laſt Winter, by miſtaking an Handful of Tulip-Roots for an Heap of Onions, and by that Means (ſays he) made me a Diſh of Porridge, that coſt me above 1000 l. Sterling. He then ſhowed me what he thought the fineſt of his Tulips, which I found received all their Value from their Rarity and Oddneſs, and put me in Mind of your great For⯑tunes, which are not always the greateſt Beau⯑ties.

I have often looked upon it as a Piece of Hap⯑pineſs, that I have never fallen into any of theſe fantaſtical Taſts, nor eſteemed any Thing the more for its being uncommon and hard to be met [131] with. For this Reaſon, I look upon the whole Country in Spring-time as a ſpacious Garden, and make as many Viſits to a Spot of Daizies, or a Bank of Violets, as a Floriſt does to his Bor⯑ders and Parterres. There is not a Buſh in Bloſ⯑ſom within a Mile of me which I am not ac⯑quainted with, nor ſcarce a Daffodil or Cowſlip that withers away in my Neighbourhood with⯑out my miſſing it. I walked Home in this Tem⯑per of Mind through ſeveral Fields and Meadows with an unſpeakable Pleaſure, not without re⯑flecting on the Bounty of Providence, which has made the moſt pleaſing and moſt beautiful Ob⯑jects the moſt ordinary and moſt common.

NEver were Men ſo perplexed as a ſelect Com⯑pany of us were this Evening with a Cou⯑ple of profeſſed Wits, who through our ill For⯑tune, and their own Confidence, had thought fit to pin themſelves upon a Gentleman who had owned to them that he was going to meet ſuch and ſuch Perſons, and named us one by one. Theſe pert Puppies immediately reſolved to come with him, and from the Beginning to the End of the Night entertained each other with Imperti⯑nencies, to which we were perfect Strangers. I am come Home very much tired; for the Affli⯑ction [132] was ſo irkſome to me, that it ſurpaſſes all other I ever knew, inſomuch that I cannot re⯑flect upon this Sorrow with Pleaſure, though it is paſt.

An eaſy Manner of Converſation is the moſt deſirable Quality a Man can have; and for that Reaſon Coxcombs will take upon them to be fa⯑miliar with People whom they never ſaw before. What adds to the Vexation of it is, that they will act upon the Foot of knowing you by Fame, and rally with you, as they call it, by repeating what your Enemies ſay of you; and court you, as they think, by uttering to your Face at a wrong Time all the kind Things your Friends ſpeak of you in your Abſence.

Theſe People are the more dreadful, the more they have of what is uſually called Wit: For a lively Imagination, when it is not governed by a good Underſtanding, makes ſuch miſerable Ha⯑vock both in Converſation and Buſineſs, that it lays you defenceleſs, and fearful to throw the leaſt Word in its Way, that may give it new Matter for its further Errors.

Tom. Mercett has as quick a Fancy as any one li⯑ving; but there is no reaſonable Man can bear him half an Hour. His Purpoſe is to entertain, and it is of no Conſequence to him what is ſaid, ſo it be what is called well ſaid; as if a Man muſt bear a Wound with Patience, becauſe he that puſhed at you came up with a good Air and Mien. That Part of Life which we ſpend in Company, is the moſt pleaſing of all our Mo⯑ments; and therefore I think our Behaviour in it ſhould have its Laws as well as the Part of our Being, which is generally eſteemed the more im⯑portant. From hence it is, that from long Expe⯑rience I have made it a Maxim. that however we may pretend to take Satisfaction in ſprightly Mirth and high Jollity, there is no great Pleaſure in any Company where the Baſis of the Society [133] is not mutual Good-Will. When this is in the Room, every trifling Circumſtance, the moſt mi⯑nute Accident, the Abſurdity of a Servant, the Repetition of an old Story, the Look of a Man when he is telling it, the moſt indifferent and the moſt ordinary Occurrences, are Matters which produce Mirth and good Humour. I went to ſpend an Hour after this Manner with ſome Friends who enjoy it in Perfection whenever they meet, when thoſe Deſtroyers above-mentioned came in upon us. There is not a Man among them has any Notion of Diſtinction of Superiori⯑ty to one another, either in their Fortunes or their Talents, when they are in Company. Or if any Reflexion to the contrary occurs in their Thoughts, it only ſtrikes a Delight upon their Minds, that ſo much Wiſdom and Power is in Poſſeſſion of one whom they love and eſteem.

In theſe my Lucubrations, I have frequently dwelt upon this one Topick. It would make ſhort Work for us Reformers, for it is only Want of making this a Poſition that renders ſome Cha⯑racters bad, which would otherwiſe be good. Tom Mercett means no Man Ill, but does Ill to every Body. His Ambition is to be witty; and to carry on that Deſign, he breaks through all Things that other People hold Sacred. If he thought Wit was no Way to be uſed but to the Advantage of Society, that Sprightlineſs would have a new Turn, and we ſhould expect what he is going to ſay with Satisfaction inſtead of Fear. It is no Excuſe for being miſchievous, that a Man is miſchievous without Malice; nor will it be thought an Attonement that the Ill was done not to injure the Party concern'd, but to di⯑vert the Indifferent.

It is, methinks, a very great Error, that we ſhould not profeſs Honeſty in Converſation as much as in Commerce. If we conſider, that there is no greater Misfortune than to be ill re⯑ceived [134] where we love the turning a Man to Ridi⯑cule among his Friends, we rob him of greater Enjoyments than he could have purchaſed by his Wealth; yet he that laughs at him, would per⯑haps be the laſt Man who would hurt him in this Caſe of leſs Conſequence. It has been ſaid, the Hiſtory of Don Quixote utterly deſtroyed the Spi⯑rit of Gallantry in the Spaniſh Nation; and I be⯑lieve we may ſay much more truly, that the Hu⯑mour of Ridicule has done as much Injury to the true Reliſh of Company in England.

Such Satisfactions as ariſe from the ſecret Com⯑pariſon of our ſelves to others, with relation to their inferior Fortunes or Merit, are mean and unworthy. The true and high State of Conver⯑ſation is when Men communicate their Thoughts to each other upon ſuch Subjects, and in ſuch a Manner, as would be pleaſant if there were no ſuch Thing as Folly in the World; for it is but a low Condition of Wit in one Man which de⯑pends upon Folly in another.

P. S. I was here interrupted by the Receipt of my Letters, among which is one from a Lady, who is not a little offended at my Tranſlation of the Diſcourſe between Adam and Eve. She pre⯑tends to tell me my own, as ſhe calls it, and quotes ſeveral Paſſages in my Works which tend to the utter Diſunion of Man and Wife. Her Epiſtle will beſt expreſs her. I have made an Extract of it, and ſhall inſert the moſt material Paſſages.

This is the main Body of the Letter; but ſhe bids me turn over, and there I find—

Mr. Morphew has Orders to carry the proper In⯑ſtruments, and the Petitioner is to be hereafter writ to upon gilt Paper, by the Title of Joſhua Fairlove Eſq

HAving received many Letters filled with Compliments and Acknowledgments for my late uſeful Diſcovery of the Political Barome⯑ter, I ſhall here communicate to the Publick an Account of my Eccleſiaſtical Thermometer, the latter giving as manifeſt Prognoſtications of the Changes and Revolutions in Church, as the for⯑mer does of thoſe in State, and both of them be⯑ing abſolutely neceſſary for every prudent Subject who is reſolved to keep what he has, and get what he can.

The Church Thermometer, which I am now to treat of, is ſuppoſed to have been invented in the Reign of Henry the Eighth, about the Time when that Religious Prince put ſome to Death for owning the Pope's Supremacy, and others for denying Tranſubſtantiation. I do not find, how⯑ever, any great Uſe made of this Inſtrument till it fell into the Hands of a learned and vigilant Prieſt or Miniſter, (for he frequently wrote him⯑ſelf both one and the other) who was ſome Time Vicar of Bray. This Gentleman lived in his Vi⯑caridge to a good old Age; and after having ſeen ſeveral Succeſſions of his neighbouring Clergy either burnt or baniſh'd, departed this Life with the Satisfaction of having never deſerted his [137] Flock, and died Vicar of Bray. As this Glaſs was firſt deſigned to calculate the different De⯑grees of Heat in Religion, as it raged in Popery, or as it cooled and grew temperate in the Refor⯑mation, it was marked at ſeveral Diſtances, after the Manner our ordinary Thermometer is to this Day, viz. Extream Hot ſultry Hot, very Hot, Hot, Warm, Temperate, Cold, juſt Freezing, Froſt, hard Froſt, great Froſt, extream Cold.

It is well known, that Toricellius, the Inventor of the common Weather-Glaſs, made the Experi⯑ment in a long Tube which held Thirty two Foot of Water; and that a more modern Virtuoſo finding ſuch a Machine altogether unweildy and uſeleſs, and conſidering that Thirty two Inches of Quickſilver weigh'd as much as ſo many Foot of Water in a Tube of the ſame Circumference, invented that fizeable Inſtrument which is now in Uſe. After this Manner, that I might adapt the Thermometer I am now ſpeaking of to the preſent Conſtitution of our Church, as divided into High and Low, I have made ſome neceſſary Vari⯑ations both in the Tube and the Fluid it contains. In the firſt Place, I ordered a Tube to be caſt in a Planetary Hour, and took Care to ſeal it Her⯑metically, when the Sun was in Conjunction with Saturn. I then took the proper Precautions about the Fluid, which is a Compound of Two very different Liquors; one of them a Spirit drawn out of a ſtrong heady Wine; the other a parti⯑cular Sort of Rock Water, colder than Ice, and clearer than Chryſtal. The Spirit is of a red fiery Colour, and ſo very apt to ferment, that unleſs it be mingled with a Proportion of the Water, or pent up very cloſe, it will burſt the Veſſel that holds it, and fly up in Fume and Smoak. The Water on the contrary is of ſuch a ſubtle piercing Cold, that unleſs it be mingled with a Proportion of the Spirits, it will ſink through almoſt every Thing that it is put into, and ſeems to be of the [138] ſame Nature as the Water mentioned by Quintus Curtius, which, ſays the Hiſtorian, could be con⯑tained in nothing but in the Hoof or (as the Ox⯑ford Manuſcript has it) in the Skull of an Aſs. The Thermometer is marked according to the following Figure, which I ſet down at length, not only to give my Reader a clear Idea of it, but alſo to fill up my Paper.

• Ignorance.
• Perſecution.
• Wrath.
• Zeal.
• CHURCH.
• Moderation.
• Lukewarmneſs.
• Infidelity.
• Ignorance.

The Reader will obſerve, that the Church is placed in the Middle Point of the Glaſs, between Zeal and Moderation, the Situation in which ſhe always flouriſhes, and in which every good Eng⯑liſhman wiſhes her who is a Friend to the Con⯑ſtitution of his Country. However, when it mounts to Zeal, it is not amiſs; and when it ſinks to Moderation, is ſtill in a moſt admirable Temper. The worſt of it is, that when once it begins to riſe, it has ſtill an Inclination to aſcend, inſomuch that it is apt to climb from Zeal to Wrath, and from Wrath to Perſecution, which al⯑ways ends in Ignorance, and very often proceeds from it. In the ſame Manner it frequently takes its Progreſs through the lower Half of the Glaſs; and when it has a Tendency to fall, will gradual⯑ly deſcend from Moderation to Lukewarmneſs, and [139] from Lukewarmneſs to Infidelity, which very often terminates in Ignorance, and always proceeds from it.

It is a common Obſervation, that the ordinary Thermometer will be affected by the breathing of People who are in the Room where it ſtands; and indeed, it is almoſt incredible to conceive how the Glaſs I am now deſcribing will fall by the Breath of a Multitude crying Popery; or on the contrary, how it will riſe when the ſame Multi⯑tude (as it ſometimes happens) cry out in the ſame Breath, The Church is in Danger.

As ſoon as I had finiſhed this my Glaſs, and ad⯑juſted it to the above-mentioned Scale of Reli⯑gion, that I might make proper Experiments with it, I carried it under my Cloak to ſeveral Coffee-houſes, and other Places of Reſort about this great City. At St. James's Coffee-houſe, the Li⯑quor ſtood at Moderation; but at Will's, to my extream Surprize, it ſubſided to the very loweſt Mark on the Glaſs. At the Grecian, it mounted but juſt one Point higher; at the Rainbow, it ſtill aſcended Two Decrees: Child's fetched it up to Zeal, and other adjacent Coffee-houſes to Wrath.

It fell into the lower Half of the Glaſs as I went further into the City, till at length it ſet⯑tled at Moderation, where it continued all the Time I ſtay'd about the Change, as alſo whilſt I paſſed by the Bank. And here I cannot but take Notice, that through the whole Courſe of my Remarks, I never obſerved my Glaſs to riſe at the ſame Time that the Stocks did.

To compleat the Experiment, I prevailed upon a Friend of mine, who works under me in the Occult Sciences, to make a Progreſs with my Glaſs through the whole Iſland of Great Bri⯑tain; and after his Return, to preſent me with a Regiſter of his Obſervations. I gueſſed before⯑hand at the Temper of ſeveral Places he paſſed through, by the Characters they have had Time [140] out of Mind. Thus that facetious Divine, Dr. Ful⯑ler, ſpeaking of the Town of Banbury near a Hundred Years ago, tells us, it was a Place fa⯑mous for Cakes and Zeal, which I find by my Glaſs is true to this Day as to the latter Part of this Deſcription; though I muſt confeſs, it is not in the ſame Reputation for Cakes that it was in the Time of that learned Author; and thus of other Places. In ſhort, I have now by me, di⯑geſted in an Alphabetical Order, all the Counties, Corporations and Boroughs, in Great Britain, with their reſpective Tempers, as they ſtand re⯑lated to my Thermometer: But this I ſhall keep to my ſelf, becauſe I would by no Means do any Thing that may ſeem to influence any enſuing Elections.

The Point of Doctrine which I would propa⯑gate by this my Invention, is the ſame which was long ago advanced by that able Teacher Ho⯑race, out of whom I have taken my Text for this Diſcourſe: We ſhould be careful not to over⯑ſhoot our ſelves in the Purſuits even of Virtue. Whether Zeal or Moderation be the Point we aim at, let us keep Fire out of the one, and Froſt out of the other. But alas! the World is too Wiſe to want ſuch a Precaution. The Terms High-Church and Low-Church, as commonly uſed, do not ſo much denote a Principle, as they diſtin⯑guiſh a Party. They are like Words of Battle, that have nothing to do with their original Sig⯑nification, but are only given out to keep a Body of Men together, and to let them know Friends from Enemies.

I muſt confeſs, I have conſidered with ſome lit⯑tle Attention the Influence which the Opinions of theſe great National Sects have upon their Pra⯑ctice; and do look upon it as one of the unac⯑countable Things of our Times, that Multitudes of honeſt Gentlemen, who entirely agree in their [141] Lives, ſhould take it in their Heads to differ in their Religion.

AS I was this Morning going out of my Houſe, a little Boy in a black Coat delivered to me the following Letter. Upon asking who he was, he told me, that he belonged to my Lady Gim⯑crack. I did not at firſt recollect the Name; but upon Enquiry, found it to be the Widow of Sir Nicholas, whoſe Legacy I lately gave ſome Account of to the World. The Letter ran thus:

I ſhall anſwer the foregoing Letter, and give the Widow my beſt Advice, as ſoon as I can find out Chapmen for the Wares which ſhe has to put off. In the mean Time, I ſhall give my Reader the Sight of a Letter which I have re⯑ceived from another Female Correſpondent by the ſame Poſt.

In Anſwer to this moſt unfortunate Lady, I muſt acquaint her, That there is now in Town an ingenious Phyſician of my Acquaintance, who undertakes to cure all the Vices and Defects of the Mind by inward Medicines, or outward Applica⯑tions. I ſhall give the World an Account of his Patients and his Cures in other Papers, when I ſhall be more at Leiſure to treat upon this Subject. I ſhall only here inform my Correſpondent, That for the Benefit of ſuch Ladies that are troubled with virulent Tongues, he has prepared a Cold Bath, over which there is faſtened, at the End of a long Pole, a very convenient Chair, curiouſ⯑ly gilt and carved. When the Patient is ſeated in this Chair, the Doctor lifts up the Pole, and gives her Two or Three total Emerſions in the Cold Bath, till ſuch Time as ſhe has quite loſt the Uſe of Speech. This Operation ſo effectually chills the Tongue, and refrigerates the Blood, that a Woman, who at her Entrance into the Chair is extreamly paſſionate and ſonorous, will come out as ſilent and gentle as a Lamb. The Doctor told me, he would not practiſe this Expe⯑riment upon Women of Faſhion, had not he ſeen it made upon thoſe of meaner Condition with very good Effect.

WHereas by Letters from Nottingham we have Advice, That the young Ladies of that Place complain for Want of Sleep, by rea⯑ſon of certain riotous Lovers, who for this laſt Summer have very much infeſted the Streets of that eminent City with Violins and Baſs-Viols, between the Hours of Twelve and Four in the Morning, to the great Diſturbance of many of Her Majeſty's peaceable Subjects. And whereas I have been im⯑portuned to publiſh ſome Edict againſt theſe Mid⯑night Alarms, which, under the Name of Sere⯑nades, do greatly annoy many well-diſpoſed Per⯑ſons, not only in the Place above-mentioned, but alſo in moſt of the Polite Towns of this Iſland.

I have taken that Matter into my ſerious Con⯑ſideration, and do find, that this Cuſtom is by no means to be indulged in this Country and Cli⯑mate.

It is indeed very unaccountable, that moſt of our Britiſh Youth ſhould take ſuch great Delight in theſe Nocturnal Expeditions. Your robuſt true-born Briton, that has not yet felt the Force of Flames and Darts, has a natural Inclination to break Windows; while th [...]ſe whoſe natural Rug⯑gedneſs has been ſoothed and ſoftened by gentle Paſſion, have as ſtrong a Propenſity to languiſh under them, eſpecially if they have a Fidler be⯑hind [147] them to utter their Complaints: For as the Cuſtom prevails at preſent, there is ſcarce a young Man of any Faſhion in a Corporation who does not make Love with the Town-Muſick. The Waits often help him through his Courtſhip; and my Friend Mr. Baniſter has told me, he was proffered Five hundred Pounds by a young Fellow to play, but for one Winter under the Window of a Lady that was a great Fortune, but more cruel than or⯑dinary. One would think they hoped to conquer their Miſtreſſes Hearts as People tame Hawks and Eagles, by keeping them awake, or breaking their Sleep when they are fallen into it.

I have endeavoured to ſearch into the Original of this impertinent Way of making Love, which, according to ſome Authors, is of great Anti⯑quity. If we may believe Monſieur Dacier and other Criticks, Horace's Tenth Ode of the Third Book was originally a Serenade. And if I was diſpoſed to ſhow my Learning, I could produce a Line of him in another Place, which ſeems to have been the Burthen of an old Heathen Sere⯑nade.

But notwithſtanding the Opinions of many lear⯑ned Men upon this Subject, I rather agree with them who look upon this Cuſtom, as now practi⯑ſed, to have been introduced by caſtrated Muſici⯑ans, who found out this Way of applying them⯑ſelves to their Miſtreſſes at theſe Hours, when Men of hoarſer Voices expreſs their Paſſions in a more vulgar Method. It muſt be confeſſed, That your Italian Eunuchs do practiſe this Manner of Court⯑ſhip to this Day.

But whoever were the Perſons that firſt thought of the Serenade, the Authors of all Countries are unanimous in aſcribing the invention to Italy.

[148] There are Two Circumſtances which qualified that Country above all other for this Midnight Muſick.

The firſt I ſhall mention, was the Softneſs of their Climate.

This gave the Lover Opportunities of being Abroad in the Air, or of lying upon the Earth whole Hours together, without Fear of Damps or Dews; but as for our Tramontain Lovers, when they begin their Midnight Complaint with,

We are not to underſtand them in the Rigour of the Letter, ſince it would be impoſſible for a Bri⯑tiſh Swain to condole himſelf long in that Situa⯑tion without really dying for his Miſtreſs. A Man might as well ſerenade in Greenland as in our Re⯑gion. Milton ſeems to have had in his Thoughts the Abſurdity of theſe Northern Serenades in the Cenſure which he paſſes upon them:

The Truth of it is, I have often pitied, in a Win⯑ter Night, a Vocal Muſician, and have attributed many of his Trills and Quavers to the Coldneſs of the Weather.

The ſecond Circumſtance which inclined the Lalians to this Cuſtom, was that Muſical Genius which is ſo univerſal among them. Nothing is more frequent in that Country, than to hear a Cobler working to an Opera Tune. You can ſcarce ſee a Porter that has not one Nail much longer than the reſt, which you will find, upon Enquiry, is cheriſhed for ſome Inſtrument. In ſhort, there is not a Labourer, or Handicraft Man, that in the Cool of the Evening does not relieve himſelf with Solo's and Sonnata's.

[149] The Italian fooths his Miſtreſs with a plaintivee Voice, and bewails himſelf in ſuch melting Mu⯑ſick, that the whole Neighbourhood ſympathizes with him in his Sorrow.

On the contrary, our honeſt Countrymen have ſo little an Inclination to Muſick, that they ſel⯑dom begin to ſing till they are drunk, which alſo is uſually the Time when they are moſt diſpoſed to ſerenade.

I HAVE been very much ſollicited by Cla⯑rinda, Flavia, and Lyſetta, to reaſſume my Diſcourſe concerning the Methods of diſpoſing honourably the unmarried Part of the World, and taking off thoſe Bars to it, Jointures and Settle⯑ments, which are not only the greateſt Impedi⯑ments towards entring into that State, but alſo the frequent Cauſes of Diſturſt and Animoſity in it after it is conſummated. I have with very much Attention conſider'd the Caſe; and among all the [150] Obſervations that I have made thro' a long Courſe of Years, I have thought the Coldneſs of Wives to their Husbands, as well as Diſreſpect from Chil⯑dren to Parents, to ariſe from this one Source. This Trade for Minds and Bodies in the Lump, without Regard to either, but as they are accom⯑panied with ſuch Sums of Money, and ſuch Par⯑ceis of Land, cannot but produce a Commerce between the Parties concerned ſuitable to the mean Motives upon which they at firſt came to⯑gether. I have heretofore given an Account, that this Method of making Settlements, was firſt in⯑vented by a griping Lawyer, who made Uſe of the covetous Tempers of the Parents of each Side to force Two young People into theſe vile Mea⯑ſures of Diffidence, for no other End but to en⯑creaſe the Skins of Parchment, by which they were put into each other's Poſſeſſion out of each other's Power. The Law of our Country has given an ample and generous Proviſion for the Wife, even the Third of the Husband's Eſtate, and left to her good Humour and his Gratitude the Expectation of further Proviſion; but the fantaſti⯑cal Method of going further, with relation to their Heirs, has a Foundation in nothing but Pride and Folly: For as all Men wiſh their Children as like themſelves, and as much better as they can poſſi⯑bly, it ſeems monſtrous, that we ſhould give out of our ſelves the Opportunities of rewarding and diſcouraging them according to their Deſerts. This wiſe Inſtitution has no more Senſe in it, than if a Man ſhould begin a Deed with, ‘"Whereas no Man living knows how long he ſhall conti⯑nue to be a reaſonable Creature, or an honeſt Man: And whereas I B. am going to enter in the State of Matrimony with Mrs. D. therefore I ſhall from henceforth make it indifferent to me, whether from this Time forward I ſhall be a Fool or a Knave: And therefore in full and per⯑fect [151] Health of Body, and as ſound Mind, not knowing which of my Children will prove bet⯑ter or worſe, I give to my Firſt-born, be he per⯑verſe, ungrateful, impious, or cruel, the Lump and Bulk of my Eſtate, and leave one Year's Purchaſe only to each of my younger Children, whether they ſhall be brave or beautiful, modeſt or honourable, from the Time of the Date hereof wherein I reſign my Senſes, and hereby promiſe to employ my Judgment no further in the Di⯑ſtribution of my Worldly Goods from the Day of the Date hereof, hereby further confeſſing and covenanting, that I am from henceforth married, and dead in Law.'’

There is no Man that is converſant in modern Settlements, but knows this is an exact Tranſla⯑tion of what is inſerted in theſe Inſtruments. Men's Paſſions could only make them ſubmit to ſuch Terms; and therefore all unreaſonable Bar⯑gains in Marriage ought to be ſet aſide, as well as Deeds extorted from Men under Force or in Priſon, who are altogether as much Maſters of their Actions as he that is poſſeſs'd with a violent Paſſion.

How ſtrangely Men are ſometimes partial to themſelves, appears by the Rapine of him that has a Daughter's Beauty under his Direction. He will make no Scruple of uſing it to force from her Lo⯑ver as much of his Eſtate as is worth 10000 l. and at the ſame Time, as a Juſtice on the Bench, will ſpare no Pains to get a Man hanged that has taken but a Horſe from him.

It is to be hoped, the Legiſlature will in due Time take this Kind of Robbery into Conſidera⯑tion, and not ſuffer Men to prey upon each other, when they are about making the moſt ſolemn League, and entring into the ſtricteſt Bonds. The only ſure Remedy is to fix a certain Rate on every Woman's Fortune; one Price for that of a Maid, [152] and another for a Widow: For it is of infinite Advantage, that there ſhould be no Frauds or Un⯑certainties in the Sale of our Women.

If any Man ſhould exceed the ſettled Rate, he ought to be at Liberty after Seven Years are over, by which Time his Love may be ſuppoſed to abate a little, if it is not founded upon Reaſon, to re⯑nounce the Bargain, and be freed from the Settle⯑ment upon reſtoring the Portion; as a Youth mar⯑ried under Fourteen Years old may be off if he pleaſes when he comes to that Age, and as a Man is diſcharged from all Bargains but that of Mar⯑riage made when he is under Twenty one.

It grives me when I conſider, that theſe Re⯑ſtraints upon Matrimony take away the Advan⯑tage we ſhould otherwiſe have over other Coun⯑tries, which are ſunk much by thoſe great Checks upon Propagation, the Convents. It is thought chiefly owing to theſe that Italy and Spain want above half their Complement of People. Were the Price of Wives always fixed and ſettled, it would contribute to filling the Nation more than all the Encouragements that can poſſibly be given to Fo⯑reigners to tranſplant themſelves hither.

I therefore, as Cenſor of Britain, till a Law is made, will lay down Rules which ſhall be obſer⯑ved with Penalty of degrading all that break them into Pretty Fellows, Smarts, Squibs, Hunt⯑ing Horns, Drums, and Bagpipes.

The Females that are guilty of breaking my Orders, I ſhall reſpectively pronounce to be Kits, Hornpipes, Dulcimers, and Kettle-Drums. Such Widows as wear the Spoils of one Husband I will bury, if they attempt to rob another.

I ordain, That no Woman ever demand one Shilling to be paid after her Husband's Death, more than the very Sum ſhe brings him, or an Equivalent for it in Land.

[153] That no Settlement be made, in which the Man ſettles on his Children more than the Reverſion of the Jointure, or the Value of it in Money; ſo that at his Death he may in the Whole be bound to pay his Family but double to what he has receiv'd. I would have the eldeſt, as well as the reſt, have his Proviſion out of this.

When Men are not able to come up to thoſe Settlements I have propoſed, I would have them receive ſo much of the Portion only as they can come up to, and the reſt to go to the Woman by Way of Pin-Money, or Separate Maintenance. In this, I think, I determined equally between the Two Sexes.

If any Lawyer varies from theſe Rules, or is above Two Days in drawing a Marriage Settle⯑ment, or uſes more Words in it than one Skin of Parchment will contain, or takes above Five Pounds for drawing it, I would have him thrown over the Bar.

Were theſe Rules obſerved, a Woman with a ſmall Fortune, and a great deal of Worth, would be ſure to marry according to her Deſerts, if the Man's Eſtate were to be leſs incumbered in Pro⯑portion as her Fortune is leſs than he might have with others.

A Man of a great deal of Merit, and not much Eſtate, might be choſen for his Worth; becauſe it would not be difficult for him to make a Settle⯑ment.

The Man that loves a Woman beſt, would not loſe her for not being able to bid ſo much as ano⯑ther, or for not complying with an extravagant Demand.

A fine Woman would no more be ſet up to Auction as ſhe is now. When a Man puts in for her, her Friends or her ſelf take Care to publiſh it; and the Man that was the firſt Bidder is made no other Uſe of but to raiſe the Price. He that [154] loves her, will continue in Waiting as long as ſhe pleaſes, (if her Fortune be thought equal to his) and under Pretence of ſome Failure in the Rent-Roll, or Difficulties in drawing the Settlement, he is put off till a better Bargain is made with ano⯑ther.

All the reſt of the Sex that are not rich or beau⯑tiful to the higheſt Degree are plainly Gainers, and would be married ſo faſt, that the leaſt charm⯑ing of them would ſoon grow Beauties to the Bat⯑chelors.

Widows might be eaſily married, if they would not, as they do now, ſet up for diſcreet, only by being mercenary.

The making Matimony cheap and eaſy, would be the greateſt Diſcouragement to Vice: The li⯑miting the Expence of Children would not make Men ill inclined, or afraid of having them in a regular Way; and the Men of Merit would not live unmarried, as they often do now, becauſe the Goodneſs of a Wife cannot be enſured to them; out the Loſs of an Eſtate is certain, and a Man would never have the Affliction of a worthleſs Heir added to that of a bad Wife.

I am the more ſerious, large, and particular on this Subject, becauſe my Lucubrations deſigned for the Encouragement of Virtue, cannot have the deſired Succeſs as long as this Incumbrance of Set⯑tlements continues upon Matrimony.

IT is my Cuſtom, in a Dearth of News, to en⯑tertain my ſelf with thoſe Collections of Ad⯑vertiſements that appear at the End of all our publick Prints. Theſe I conſider as Accounts of News from the little World, in the ſame Manner that the foregoing Parts of the Paper are from the great. If in one we hear that a Sovereign Prince is fled from his Capital City, in the other we hear of a Tradeſman who hath ſhut up his Shop, and run away. If in one we find the Victory of a General, in the other we ſee the Deſertion of a private Soldier. I muſt confeſs, I have a certain Weakneſs in my Temper, that is often very much affected by theſe little Domeſtick Occurrences, and have frequently been caught with Tears in my Eyes over a melancholy Advertiſement.

But to conſider this Subject in its moſt ridicu⯑lous Lights, Advertiſements are of great Uſe to the Vulgar: Firſt of all, as they are Inſtruments of Ambition. A Man that is by no Means big enough for the Gazette, may eaſily creep into the Advertiſements; by which Means we often ſee an Apothecary in the ſame Paper of News with a Plenipotentiary, or a Running-Footman with an Ambaſſador. An Advertiſement from Pickadilly goes down to Poſterity, with an Article from Ma⯑drid; and John Bartlett of Goodman's-Fields is ce⯑lebrated in the ſame Paper with the Emperor of [156] Germany. Thus the Fable tells us, That the Wren mounted as high as the Eagle, by getting upon his Back.

A Second Uſe which this Sort of Writings have been turned to of late Years, has been the Manage⯑ment of Controverſy, inſomuch that above half the Advertiſements one meets with now-a-Days are purely Polemical. The Inventors of Strops for Razors have written againſt one another this Way for ſeveral Years, and that with great Bitterneſs; as the whole Argument pro and con in the Caſe of the Morning-Gowns is ſtill carried on after the ſame Manner. I need not mention the ſeveral Proprie⯑tors of Dr. Anderſon's Pills; nor take Notice of the many Satyrical Works of this Nature ſo fre⯑quently publiſhed by Dr. Clark, who has had the Confidence to advertiſe upon that learned Knight, my very worthy Friend, Sir William Read: But I ſhall not interpoſe in their Quarrel; Sir William can give him his own in Advertiſements, that, in the Judgment of the Impartial, are as well penn'd as the Doctor's.

The Third and laſt Uſe of theſe Writings is, to inform the World where they may be furniſhed with almoſt every Thing that is neceſſary for Life. If a Man has Pains in his Head, Cholicks in his Bowels, or Spots in his Clothes, he may here meet with proper Cures and Remedies. If a Man would recover a Wife or a Horſe that is ſtolen or ſtray'd; if he wants new Sermons, Electuaries, Aſſes Milk, or any Thing elſe, either for his Body or his Mind, this is the Place to look for them in.

The great Art in writing Advertiſements, is the finding out a proper Method to catch the Reader's Eye; without which, a good Thing may paſs over unobſerved, or be loſt among Commiſſions of Bankrupt. Aſterisks and Hands were formerly of great Uſe for this Purpoſe. Of late Years, the N. B. has been much in Faſhion; as alſo little Cuts and Figures, the Invention of which we muſt a⯑ſcribe [157] to the Author of Spring-Truſſes. I muſt not here omit the blind Italian Character, which be⯑ing ſcarce legible, always fixes and detains the Eye, and gives the curious Reader ſomething like the Satisfaction of prying into a Secret.

But the great Skill in an Advertiſer is chiefly ſeen in the Style which he makes uſe of. He is to mention the univerſal Eſteem, or general Reputa⯑tion, of Things that were never heard of. If he is a Phyſician or Aſtrologer, he muſt change his Lodgings frequently, and (tho' he never ſaw any Body in them beſides his own Family) give pub⯑lick Notice of it, For the Information of the Nobility and Gentry. Since I am thus uſefully employ'd in writing Criticiſms on the Works of theſe diminu⯑tive Authors, I muſt not paſs over in Silence an Advertiſement which has lately made its Appea⯑rance, and is written altogether in a Ciceronian Manner. It was ſent to me, with Five Shillings, to be inſerted among my Advertiſements; but as it is a Pattern of good Writing in this Way, I ſhall give it a Place in the Body of my Paper.

At the ſame Time that I recommend the ſeveral Flowers in which this Spirit of Lavender is wrap⯑ped up, (if the Expreſſion may be uſed) I cannot [158] excuſe my Fellow-Labourers for admitting into their Papers ſeveral uncleanly Advertiſements, not at all proper to appear in the Works of polite Wri⯑ters. Among theſe I muſt reckon the Carminitive Wind expelling Pills. If the Doctor had called them only his Carminitive Pills, he had been as cleanly as one could have wiſhed; but the Second Word entirely deſtroys the Decency of the Firſt. There are other Abſurdities of this Nature ſo very groſs, that I dare not mention them; and ſhall therefore diſmiſs this Subject with a publick Ad⯑monition to Michael Parrot, That he do not pre⯑ſume any more to mention a certain Worm he knows of, which, by the Way, has grown Seven Foot in my Memory; for, if I am not much mi⯑ſtaken, it is the ſame that was but Nine Foot long about Six Months ago.

By the Remarks I have here made, it plainly ap⯑pears, that a Collection of Advertiſements is a kind of Miſcellany; the Writers of which, contra⯑ry to all Authors, except Men of Quality, give Money to the Bookſellers who publiſh their Co⯑pies. The Genius of the Bookſeller is chiefly ſhown in his Method of ranging and digeſting theſe little Tracts. The laſt Paper I took up in my Hands, places them in the following Order:

• The True Spaniſh Blacking for Shoes, &c.
• The Beautifying Cream for the Face, &c.
• Peaſe and Plaiſters, &c.
• Nectar and Ambroſia, &c.
• Four Freehold Tenements of 15 l. per Annum, &c.
• *⁎* The Preſent State of England, &c.
• † (inverted †)† Annotations upon the Tatler, &c.
• A Commiſſion of Bankrupt being awarded againſt B. L. Bookſeller, &c.

THE Hours which we ſpend in Converſation are the moſt pleaſing of any which we en⯑joy; yet, methinks, there is very little Care ta⯑ken to improve our ſelves for the frequent Repe⯑tition of them. The common Fault in this Caſe, is that of growing too intimate, and falling into diſpleaſing Familiarities: For it is a very ordinary Thing for Men to make no other Uſe of a cloſe Acquaintance with each other's Affairs, but to teaze one another with unacceptable Alluſions. One would paſs over patiently ſuch as converſe like Animals, and ſalute each other with Bangs on the Shoulder, ſly Raps with Canes, or other robuſt Pleaſantries practiſed by the rural Gentry of this Nation: But even among thoſe who ſhould have more polite Idea's of Things, you ſee a Set of People who invert the Deſign of Converſa⯑tion, and make frequent Mention of ungrateful Subjects; nay, mention them becauſe they are ungrateful; as if the Perfection of Society were in knowing how to offend on the one Part, and how to bear an Offence on the other. In all Parts of this populous Town you find the merry World made up of an active and a paſſive Companion; one who has good-nature enough to ſuffer all his Friend ſhall think fit to ſay, and one who is re⯑ſolved to make the moſt of his Good-humour to ſhow his Parts. In the Trading Part of Mankind, [160] I have ever obſerved the Jeſt went by the Weight of Purſes, and the Ridicule is made up by the Gains which ariſe from it. Thus the Packer al⯑lows the Clothier to ſay what he pleaſes, and the Broker has his Countenance ready to laugh with the Merchant, tho' the Abuſe is to fall on him⯑ſelf, becauſe he knows that, as a Go-between, he ſhall find his Account in being in the good Graces of a Man of Wealth. Among theſe juſt and punctual People, the richeſt Man is ever the bet⯑ter Jeſter; and they know no ſuch Thing as a Perſon who ſhall pretend to a ſuperior Laugh at a Man, who does not make him Amends by Op⯑portunities of Advantage in another Kind: But among People of a different Way, where the pretended Diſtinction in Company is only what is raiſed from Senſe and Underſtanding, it is very abſurd to carry on a rough Raillery ſo far, as that the whole Diſcourſe ſhould turn upon each others Infirmities, Follies, or Misfortunes.

I was this Evening with a Set of Wags of this Claſs. They appear generally by Two and Two; and what is moſt extraordinary, is, that thoſe very Perſons who are moſt together, appear leaſt of a Mind when joined by other Company. This Evil proceeds from an indiſcreet Familiarity, whereby a Man is allowed to ſay the moſt gra⯑ting Thing imaginable to another, and it ſhall be accounted Weakneſs to ſhow an Impatience for the Unkindneſs. But this and all other Devia⯑tions from the Deſign of pleaſing each other when we meet, are derived from Interlopers in Society, who want Capacity to put in a Stock among re⯑gular Companions, and therefore ſupply their Wants by ſtale Hiſtories, ſly Obſervations, and rude Hints, which relate to the Conduct of others. All Cohabitants in general run into this unhappy Fault; Men and their Wives break into Re⯑flections, which are like ſo much Arabick to the reſt of the Company; Siſters and Brothers often [161] make the like Figure from the ſame unjuſt Senſe of the Art of being intimate and familiar. It is often ſaid, ſuch an one cannot ſtand the Mention of ſuch a Circumſtance: If he cannot, I am ſure it is for Want of Diſcourſe, or a worſe Reaſon, that any Companion of his touches upon it.

Familiarity, among the truly Well-bred, never give Authority to treſpaſs upon one another in the moſt minute Circumſtance, but it allows to be kinder than we ought otherwiſe preſume to be. Euſebius has Wit, Humour, and Spirit; but there never was a Man in his Company who wiſhed he had leſs, for he underſtands Familiarity ſo well, that he knows how to make Uſe of it in a Way that neither makes himſelf or his Friend con⯑temptible; but if any one is leſſened by his Free⯑dom, it is he himſelf, who always likes the Place, the Diet, and the Reception, when he is in the Company of his Friends. Equality is the Life of Converſation; and he is as much out who aſſumes to himſelf any Part above another, as he who conſiders himſelf below the reſt of the Society. Familiarity in Inferiors is Saucineſs; in Superiors, Condeſcenſion; neither of which are to have Being among Companions, the very Word implying that they are to be equal. When therefore we have abſtracted the Company from all Conſiderations of their Quality or Fortune, it will immediately appear, that to make it happy and polite, there muſt nothing be ſtarted which ſhall diſcover that our Thoughts run upon any ſuch Diſtinctions. Hence it will ariſe, that Be⯑nevolence muſt become the Rule of Society, and he that is moſt obliging, muſt be moſt diverting.

This Way of Talking I am fallen into from the Reflection that I am wherever I go entertained with ſome Abſurdity, Miſtake, Weakneſs, or ill Luck of ſome Man or other, whom not only I, but the Perſon who makes me thoſe Relations has a Value for. It would therefore be a great Be⯑nefit [162] to the World, if it could be brought to paſs that no Story ſhould be a taking one, but what was to the Advantage of the Perſon of whom it is related. By this Means, he that is now a Wit in Converſation, would be conſidered as a Sprea⯑der of falſe News is in Buſineſs.

But above all, to make a Familiar fit for a Bo⯑ſom Friend, it is abſolutely neceſſary that we ſhould always be inclined rather to hide than rally each others Infirmities. To ſuffer for a Fault, is a Sort of Attonement; and no Body is concerned for the Offence for which he has made Repara⯑tion.

P. S. I have received the following Letter, which rallies me for being witty ſooner than I deſigned; but I have now altered my Reſolution, and intend to be facetious till the Day in October heretofore mentioned, inſtead of beginning for that Day.

Advices from Madrid of the 8th ſay, the Duke of Anjou, with his Court, and all the Councils, were preparing to leave that Place in a Day or Two, in order to remove to Valladolid. They add, That the Palace was already unfurniſhed, and a Declaration had been publiſhed, importing, That it was abſolutely neceſſary, in the preſent Conjuncture of Affairs, that the Court were ab⯑ſent for ſome Time from Madrid, but would re⯑turn [163] thither in Six Weeks. This ſudden Depar⯑ture is attributed to the Advice, That the Portu⯑gueſe Army was in Motion to enter Spain by Bra⯑ganza, and that his Catholick Majeſty was on the March with a ſtrong Detachment towards Caſtille. Two Thouſand Horſe were arrived at Agreda, and 'tis reported they were to join the reſt of the Body, with the King, and advance to Callaiatud, on their Way to Madrid, whilſt Gene⯑ral Staremberg obſerved the Enemy on the Fron⯑tier of Navarre. They write from Bayonne, That the Duke of Vendoſme ſet forwards to Spain on the 14th.

IT is one of the Deſigns of this Paper to tranſ⯑mit to Poſterity an Account of every Thing that is monſtrous in my own Times. For this Reaſon I ſhall here publiſh to the World the Life of a Perſon who was neither Man nor Woman, as written by one of my ingenious Correſpon⯑dents, who ſeems to have imitated Plutach in that multifarious Erudition, and thoſe occaſional Differtation, which he has wrought into the Bo⯑dy of his Hiſtory. The Life I am putting out, is that of Margery, alias John Young, commonly known by the Name of Dr. Young, who (as the Town very well knows) was a Woman that practiſed Phyſick in Man's Clothes, and after ha⯑ving [164] had Two Wives and ſeveral Children, died about a Month ſince.

I ſhall add, as a Poſtcript to this Letter, that I am informed, the famous Saltero, who ſells Cof⯑fee in his Muſaeum at Chelſea, has by him a Cu⯑rioſity which helped the Doctor to carry on his Impoſture, and will give great Satisfaction to the curious Inquirer.

IT is the Buſineſs of Reaſon and Philoſophy to ſooth and allay the Paſſions of the Mind, or turn them to a vigorous Proſecution of what is dictated by the Underſtanding. In order to this good End, I would keep a watchful Eye upon the growing Inclinations of Youth, and be parti⯑cularly careful to prevent their indulging them⯑ſelves in ſuch Sentiments as may imbitter their more advanced Age. I have now under Cure a young Gentleman, who lately communicated to me, that he was of all Men living the moſt miſe⯑rably envious. I deſired the Circumſtances of his Diſtemper; upon which, with a Sigh that would have moved the moſt inhumane Breaſt, ‘'Mr. Bickerſtaff, ſaid he, I am Nephew to a Gen⯑tleman of a very great Eſtate, to whoſe Favour I have a Couſin that has equal Pretenſions with my ſelf. This Kinſman of mine is a young Man of the higheſt Merit imaginable, and has a Mind ſo tender, and ſo generous, that I can obſerve he returns my Envy with Pity. He makes me upon all Occaſions the moſt obliging Condeſcenſions: And I cannot but take Notice of the Concern he is in to ſee my Life blaſted with this racking Paſſion, though it is againſt himſelf. In the Preſence of my Unkle, when I am in the Room, he never ſpeaks ſo well as he is capable of, but always lowers his Talents and Accompliſhments out of Regard to me. [169] What I beg of you, dear Sir, is to inſtruct me how to love him, as I know he does me: And I beſeech you, if poſſible, to ſet my Heart right, that it may no longer be tormented where it ſhould be pleaſed, or hate a Man whom I can⯑not but approve.’

The Patient gave me this Account with ſuch Candour and Openneſs, that I conceived imme⯑ [...]iate Hopes of his Cure; becauſe in Diſeaſes of [...]he Mind, the Perſon affected is half recovered [...]hen he is ſenſible of his Diſtemper. Sir, ſaid I, [...]he Acknowledgment of your Kinſman's Merit is [...] very hopeful Symptom; for it is the Nature of [...]erſons afflicted with this Evil, when they are in⯑ [...]urable, to pretend a Contempt of the Perſon [...]nvied, if they are taxed with that Weakneſs. A [...]an who is really envious, will not allow he is [...]o; but upon ſuch an Accuſation is tormented [...]ith the Reflection, that to envy a Man is to al⯑ [...]ow him your Superior. But in your Caſe, when [...]ou examine the Bottom of your Heart, I am apt [...]o think it is Avarice, which you miſtake for En⯑ [...]y. Were it not that you have both Expectations [...]rom the ſame Man, you would look upon your [...]ouſin's Accompliſhments with Pleaſure. You [...]hat now conſider him as an Obſtacle to your [...]ntereſt, would then behold him as an Ornament [...]o your Family. I obſerved my Patient upon this [...]ccaſion recover himſelf in ſome Meaſure; and [...]e owned to me, that he hoped it was as I ima⯑ [...]ined; for that in all Places but where he was his [...]ival, he had Pleaſure in his Company. This [...]as the firſt Diſcourſe we had upon this Malady; [...]nd I do not doubt but, after Two or Three [...]ore, I ſhall by juſt Degrees ſoften his Envy into [...]mulation.

Such an Envy as I have here deſcribed, may [...]oſſibly creep into an ingenuous Mind; but the [...]nvy which makes a Man uneaſy to himſelf and [...]hers, is a certain Diſtortion and Perverſeneſs of [170] Temper, that renders him unwilling to be pleas'd with any Thing without him that has either Beau⯑ty or Perfection in it. I look upon it as a Diſtem⯑per in the Mind, (which I know no Moraliſt that has deſcribed in this Light) when a Man cannot diſcern any Thing which another is Maſter of that is agreeable. For which Reaſon, I look up⯑on the good-natured Man to be endowed with a certain diſcerning Faculty which the Envious are altogether deprived of. Shallow Wits, ſuperficial Criticks, and conceited Fops, are with me ſo ma⯑ny blind Men in reſpect of Excellencies. They can behold nothing but Faults and Blemiſhes, and indeed ſee nothing that is worth ſeeing. Show them a Poem, it is Stuff; a Picture, it is Daubing. They find nothing in Architecture that is not ir⯑regular, or in Muſick that is not out of Tune. Theſe Men ſhould conſider, that it is their Envy which deforms every Thing, and that the Ugli⯑neſs is not in the Object, but in the Eye. And as for nobler Minds, whoſe Merits are either not diſcovered, or are miſrepreſented by the envious Part of Mankind, they ſhould rather conſider their Defamers with Pity than Indignation. A Man cannot have an Idea of Perfection in ano⯑ther, which he was never ſenſible of in himſelf. Mr. Lock tells us, That upon asking a blind Man, What he thought Scarlet was? He anſwered, That he believed it was like the Sound of a Trumpet. He was forced to form his Conceptions of Idea's which he had not, by thoſe which he had. In the ſame Manner, ask an envious Man, What he thinks of Virtue? He will call it Deſign: What of Good⯑nature? And he will term it Dulneſs. The Diffe⯑rence is, That as the Perſon before-mentioned was born blind, your envious Men have con⯑tracted the Diſtemper themſelves, and are trou⯑bled with a Sort of an acquired Blindneſs. Thus the Devil in Milton, tho' made an Angel of Light, could ſee nothing to pleaſe him even in Para⯑diſe, [171] and hated our Firſt Parents, though in their State of Innocence.

A Man of Buſineſs who makes a publick En⯑tertainment, may ſometimes leave his Gueſts, and beg them to divert themſelves as well as they can till his Return. I ſhall here make uſe of the ſame Privilege, (being engaged in Matters of ſome Importance relating to the Family of the Bickerſtaffs) and muſt deſire my Readers to en⯑tertain one another till I can have Leiſure to at⯑tend them. I have therefore furniſhed out this Paper, as I have done ſome few others, with Letters of my ingenious Correſpondents, which I have Reaſon to believe will pleaſe the Publick, as much as my own more elaborate Lucubra⯑tions.

I am very proud of having a Gentleman of this Name for my Admirer, and may ſome Time or other write ſuch a Treatiſe as he mentions. In the mean Time I do not ſee why our Clergy, who are very frequently Men of good Families, ſhould be reproached, if any of them chance to eſpouſe a Hand-Maid with a Rectory in Commen⯑dam, ſince the beſt of our Peers have often join⯑ed themſelves to the Daughters of very ordinary Tradeſmen upon the ſame valuable Conſidera⯑tions.

This Gentleman does not conſider, what a ſtrange Appearance his Almanack would make to the Ignorant, ſhould he tranſpoſe his Weather, as he muſt do, did he follow the Dictates of my Glaſs. What would the World ſay to ſee Sum⯑mers filled with Clouds and Storms, and Winters with Calms and Sun-ſhine, according to the Va⯑riations of the Weather, as they might acciden⯑tally appear in a State Barometer? But let that be as it will, I ſhall apply my own Invention to my own Uſe; and if I do not make my Fortune by it, it will be my own Fault.

The next Letter comes to me from another Self-intereſſed Solicitor.

WHereas A. B. next Door to the Peſtle and Mortar, being about 30 Years old, of a ſpare Make, with dark-coloured Hair, bright Eye, and a long Noſe, has Occaſion for a good-hu⯑mour'd, tall, fair, young Woman, of about 3000 l. Fortune: Theſe are to give Notice, That if any ſuch young Woman has a Mind to diſpoſe of her ſelf in Marriage to ſuch a Perſon as the above⯑mentioned, ſhe may be provided with a Husband, a Coach and Horſes, and a proportionable Settle⯑ment.

C. D. deſigning to quit his Place, has great Quantities of Paper, Parchment, Ink, Wax, and Wafers to diſpoſe of, which will be ſold at very reaſonable Rates.

E. F. a Perſon of good Behaviour, Six Foot high, of a black Complexion and ſound Princi⯑ples, wants an Employ. He is an excellent Pen⯑man and Accomptant, and ſpeaks French.

THE whole Creation preys upon it ſelf: E⯑very living Creature is inhabited. A Flea has a Thouſand inviſible Inſects that teaze him as he jumps from Place to Place, and revenge our Quarrels upon him. A very ordinary Microſcope ſhows us, that a Louſe is it ſelf a very louſy Creature. A Whale, beſides thoſe Seas and O⯑ceans in the ſeveral Veſſels of his Body, which are filled with innumerable Shoals of little Ani⯑mals, carries about it a whole World of Inhabi⯑tants; inſomuch that, if we believe the Calcula⯑tions ſome have made, there are more living Creatures which are too ſmall for the naked Eye to behold about the Leviathan, than there are of viſible Creatures upon the Face of the whole Earth. Thus every nobler Creature is as it were the Baſis and Support of Multitudes that are his Inferiors.

This Conſideration very much comforts me, when I think on thoſe numberleſs Vermin that feed upon this Paper, and find their Suſtenance out of it: I mean, the ſmall Wits and Scribble [...] that every Day turn a Penny by nibbling at [...] Lucubrations. This has been ſo advantageou [...] [...] this little Species of Writers, that, if they [...] me Juſtice, I may expect to have my Statue [...] [176] in Grub-ſtreet, as being a common Benefactor to that Quarter.

They ſay, when a Fox is very much troubled with Fleas, he goes into the next Pool with a lit⯑tle Lock of Wool in his Mouth, and keeps his Body under Water till the Vermin get into it, after which he quits the Wool, and diving, leaves his Tormentors to ſhift for themſelves, and get their Livelihood where they can. I would have theſe Gentlemen take Care that I do not ſerve them after the ſame Manner; for though I have hitherto kept my Temper pretty well, it is not impoſſible but I may ſome Time or other diſap⯑pear; and what will then become of them? Should I lay down my Paper, What a Famine would there be among the Hawkers, Printers, Bookſellers, and Authors? It would be like Dr. B—s's dropping his Cloak, with the whole Congregation hanging upon the Skirts of it. To enumerate ſome of theſe my doughty Antago⯑niſts, I was threatened to be anſwered Weekly Tit for Tat: I was undermined by the Whiſperer, haunted by Tom. Brown's Ghoſt, ſcolded at by a Female Tatler, and ſlandered by another of the ſame Character, under the Title of Atalantis. I have been annotated, retattled, examined, and condoled: But it being my ſtanding Maxim never to ſpeak ill of the Dead, I ſhall let theſe Authors reſt in Peace, and take great Pleaſure in thinking that I have ſometimes been the Means of their getting a Belly full. When I ſee my ſelf thus ſurrounded by ſuch formidable Enemies, I often think of the Knight of the Red Croſs in Spencer's [...] of Error, who after he has cut off the Dra⯑ [...]'s Head, and left it wallowing in a Flood of [...] ſees a Thouſand monſtrous Reptiles making [...] Attempts upon him, one with many Heads, [...] with none, and all of them without [...]

If ever I ſhould want ſuch a Fry of little Au⯑thors to attend me, I ſhall think my Paper in a very decaying Condition. They are like Ivy a⯑bout an Oak, which adorns the Tree at the ſame Time that it eats into it; or like a great Man's Equipage, that do Honour to the Perſon on whom they feed. For my Part, when I ſee my ſelf thus attacked, I do not conſider my Antago⯑niſts as malicious, but hungry, and therefore am reſolved never to take any Notice of them.

As for thoſe who detract from my Labours without being prompted to it by an empty Sto⯑mach, in Return to their Cenſures I ſhall take Pains to excel, and never fail to perſwade my ſelf, that their Enmity is nothing but their E [...] or Ignorance.

Give me Leave to conclude, like an old [...] and a Moraliſt, with a Fable:

The Owls, Bats, and ſeveral other B [...] [...] Night, were one Day got together in [...] [178] Shade, where they abuſed their Neighbours in a very ſociable Manner. Their Satyr at laſt fell upon the Sun, whom they all agreed to be very troubleſome, impertinent, and inquiſitive. Upon which the Sun, who overheard them, ſpoke to them after this Manner: Gentlemen, I wonder how you dare abuſe one that you know could in an Inſtant ſcorch you up, and burn every Mother's Son of you: But the only Anſwer I ſhall give you, or the Revenge I ſhall take of you, is, to ſhine on.

THE following Letter has laid before me ma⯑ny great and manifeſt Evils in the World of Letters which I had overlooked; but they open to me a very buſy Scene, and it will require no ſmall Care and Application to amend Errors which are become ſo univerſal. The Affectation of Politeneſs is expoſed in this Epiſtle with a great deal of Wit and Diſcernment; ſo that whatever Diſcourſes I may fall into hereafter up⯑on the Subjects the Writer treats of, I ſhall at preſent lay the Matter before the World without the leaſt Alteration from the Words of my Cor⯑reſpondent.

THere are very many ill Habits that might with much Eaſe have been prevented, which, after we have indulged our ſelves in them, be⯑come incorrigible. We have a ſort of Proverbial Expreſſion, of taking a Woman down in her Wed⯑ding Shoes, if you would bring her to Reaſon. An early Behaviour of this Sort, had a very re⯑markable good Effect in a Family wherein I was ſeveral Years an intimate Acquaintance.

A Gentleman in Lincoluſhire had Four Daugh⯑ters, Three of which were early married very happily; but the Fourth, though no Way inferior to any of her Siſters, either in Perſon or Accom⯑pliſhments, had from her Infancy diſcovered ſo imperious a Temper, (uſually called a High Spi⯑rit) that it continually made great Uneaſineſs in the Family, became her known Character in the Neighbourhood, and deterred all her Lovers from declaring themſelves. However, in Proceſs of Time, a Gentleman of a plentiful Fortune and [185] long Acquaintance, having obſerved that Quick⯑neſs of Spirit to be her only Fault, made his Ad⯑dreſſes, and obtained her Conſent in due Form. The Lawyers finiſhed the Writings, (in which, by the Way, there was no Pin-Money) and they were married. After a decent Time ſpent in the Father's Houſe, the Bridegroom went to prepare his Seat for her Reception. During the whole Courſe of his Courtſhip, though a Man of the moſt equal Temper, he had artificially lamented to her, that he was the moſt paſſionate Creature breathing. By this one Intimation, he at once made her underſtand Warmth of Temper to be what he ought to pardon in her, as well as that he alarmed her againſt that Conſtitution in him⯑ſelf. She at the ſame Time thought her ſelf high⯑ly obliged by the compoſed Behaviour which he maintained in her Preſence. Thus far he with great Succeſs ſoothed her from being guilty of Violences, and ſtill reſolved to give her ſuch a terrible Apprehenſion of his fiery Spirit, that ſhe ſhould never dream of giving Way to her own. He returned on the Day appointed for carrying her Home; but inſtead of a Coach and Six Horſes, together with the gay Equipage ſuitable to the Occaſion, he appeared without a Servant, mounted on the Skeleton of a Horſe which his Huntſman had the Day before brought in to feaſt his Dogs on the Arrival of their new Miſtreſs, with a Pillion fixed behind, and a Caſe of Pi⯑ſtols before him, attended only by a Favourite Hound. Thus equipped, he in a very obliging (but ſomewhat poſitive) Manner deſired his La⯑dy to ſeat her ſelf on the Cuſhion; which done, away they crawled. The Road being obſtruct⯑ed by a Gate, the Dog was commanded to open it: The poor Cur looked up and wagged his Tail; but the Maſter, to ſhew the Impa⯑tience of his Temper, drew a Piſtol and ſhot him dead. He had no ſooner done it, but he [186] fell into a Thouſand Apologies for his unhappy Raſhneſs, and begged as many Pardons for his Exceſſes before one for whom he had ſo profound a Reſpect. Soon after their Steed ſtum⯑bled, but with ſome Difficulty recovered: How⯑ever, the Bridegroom took Occaſion to ſwear, if he frighted his Wife ſo again, he would run him through: And alas! the poor Animal being now almoſt tired, made a ſecond Trip; imme⯑diately on which the careful Husband alights, and with great Ceremony firſt takes off his La⯑dy, then the Accoutrements, draws his Sword, and ſaves the Huntſman the Trouble of killing him: Then ſays to his Wife, Child, prithee take up the Saddle; which ſhe readily did, and tug⯑ged it Home, where they found all Things in the greateſt Order, ſuitable to their Fortune and the preſent Occaſion. Some Time after the Fa⯑ther of the Lady gave an Entertainment to all his Daughters and their Husbands, where, when the Wives were retired, and the Gentleman paſ⯑ſing a Toaſt about, our laſt married Man took Occaſion to obſerve to the reſt of his Brethren, how much, to his great Satisfaction, he found the World miſtaken as to the Temper of his Lady, for that ſhe was the moſt meek and hum⯑ble Woman breathing. The Applauſe was re⯑ceived with a loud Laugh: But as a Tryal which of them would appear the moſt Maſter at Home, he propoſed they ſhould all by Turns ſend for their Wives down to them. A Servant was diſ⯑patched, and Anſwer was made by one, Tell him I will come by and by; another, That ſhe would come when the Cards were out of her Hand; and ſo on. But no ſooner was her Hus⯑band's Deſire whiſpered in the Ear of our laſt married Lady, but the Cards were clapped on the Table, and down ſhe comes with, My Dear, would you ſpeak with me? He receives her in his Arms, and after repeated Careſſes tells her [187] the Experiment, confeſſes his good Nature, and aſſures her That ſince ſhe could now command her, Temper, he would no longer diſguiſe his own.

I received the following Letter, with a Dozen of Wine, and cannot but do Juſtice to the Li⯑quor, and give my Teſtimony; That I have tried it upon ſeveral of my Acquaintance, who were given to impertinent Abbreviations, with great Succeſs.

I Have received the following Letter from my unfortunate old Acquaintance the Uphol⯑ſterer, who, I obſerved, had long abſented him⯑ſelf [188] from the Bench at the upper End of the Mall [...] Having not ſeen him for ſome Time, I was in Fear I ſhould ſoon hear of his Death, eſpecially ſince he never appeared, though the Noons have been of late pretty warm, and the Councils at that Place very full from the Hour of Twelve to Three, which the Sages of that Board employ in Conference, while the unthinking Part of Man⯑kind are eating and drinking for the Support of their own private Perſons, without any Regard to the Publick.

This unhappy Correſpondent, whoſe fantaſtical Loyalty to the King of Sweden has reduced him to this low Condition of Reaſon and Fortune, would appear much more monſtrous in his Mad⯑neſs, did we not ſee Crowds very little above his Circumſtances from the ſame Cauſe, a Paſſion to Politicks.

It is no unpleaſant Entertainment to conſider the Commerce even of the Sexes interrupted by Difference in State Affairs. A Wench and her Gallant parted laſt Week upon the Words Unli⯑mited and Paſſive: And there is ſuch a Jargon of Terms got into the Mouths of the very ſillieſt of the Women, that you cannot come into a Room even among them, but you find them divided in⯑to Whig and Tory. What heightens the Humour is, that all the hard Words they know, they cer⯑tainly ſuppoſe to be Terms uſeful in the Diſputes of the Parties. I came in this Day where Two were in very hot Debate, and one of them pro⯑poſed to me to explain to them what was the Dif⯑ference between Circumciſion and Predeſtination. You may be ſure I was at a Loſs; but they were too angry at each other to wait for my Explana⯑tion, but proceeded to lay open the whole State of Affairs, inſtead of the uſual Topicks of Dreſs, Gallantry and Scandal.

I have often wondered how it ſhould be poſſible that this Turn to Politicks ſhould ſo univerſally prevail, to the Excluſion of every other Subject out [191] of Converſation; and upon mature Conſideration, find it is for Want of Diſcourſe. Look round you among all the young Fellows you meet, and you ſee thoſe who have leaſt Reliſh for Books, Com⯑pany, or Pleaſure, though they have no Manner of Qualities to make them ſucceed in thoſe Pur⯑ſuits, ſhall make very paſſable Politicians. Thus the moſt barren Invention ſhall find enough to ſay to make one appear an able Man in the Top-Cof⯑fee-houſes. It is but adding a certain Vehemence in uttering your ſelf, let the Thing you ſay be never ſo flat, and you ſhall be thought a very ſenſible Man, if you were not too hot. As Love and Honour are the nobleſt Motives of Life; ſo the Pretenders to them, without being animated by them, are the moſt contemptible of all Sorts of Pretenders. The unjuſt Affectation of any Thing that is laudable, is ignominious in Proportion to the Worth of the Thing we affect: Thus, as Love of one's Country is the moſt glorious of all Paſſions, to ſee the moſt ordinary Tools in a Na⯑tion give themſelves Airs that Way, without any one good Quality in their own Life, has ſomething in it Romantick, yet not ſo ridiculous as odious.

WHEN the Mind has been perplexed with anxious Cares and Paſſions, the beſt Me⯑thod of bringing it to its uſual State of Tranqui⯑lity, is, as much as we poſſibly can, to turn our Thoughts to the Adverſities of Perſons of higher Conſideration in Virtue and Merit than our ſelves. By this Means all the little Incidents of our own Lives, if they are unfortunate, ſeem to be the Ef⯑fect of Juſtice upon our Faults and Indiſcretions. When thoſe whom we know to be excellent and deſerving of a better Fate are wretched, we cannot but reſign our ſelves, whom moſt of us know to merit a much worſe State than that we are placed in. For ſuch and many other Occaſions, there is one admirable Relation which one might re⯑commend for certain Periods of one's Life, to touch, comfort, and improve the Heart of Man. Tully ſays, ſomewhere, The Pleaſures of an Huſ⯑bandman are next to thoſe of a Philoſopher. In like Manner one may ſay, (for methinks they bear the ſame Proportion one to another) the Pleaſures of Humanity are next to thoſe of Devotion. In both theſe latter Satisfactions, there is a certain Humiliation which exalts the Soul above its ordi⯑nary State. At the ſame Time that it leſſens our Value of our ſelves, it enlarges our Eſtimation of others. The Hiſtory I am going to ſpeak of, is [193] that of Joſeph in Holy Writ, which is related with ſuch Majeſtick Simplicity, that all the Parts of it ſtrike us with ſtrong Touches of Nature and Compaſſion, and he muſt be a Stranger to both who can read it with Attention, and not be over⯑whelmed with the Viciſſitudes of Joy and Sor⯑row. I hope it will not be a Prophanation to tell it ones own Way here, that they who may be unthinking enough to be more frequently Readers of ſuch Papers as this than of Sacred Writ, may be advertiſed, that the greateſt Pleaſures the Ima⯑gination can be entertained with are to be found there, and that even the Style of the Scriptures is more than Humane.

Joſeph, a beloved Child of Iſrael, became invi⯑dious to his elder Brethren, for no other Reaſon but his ſuperior Beauty and Excellence of Body and Mind, inſomuch that they could not bear his growing Virtue, and let him live. They there⯑fore conſpire his Death; but Nature pleaded ſo ſtrongly for him in the Heart of one of them, that by his Perſwaſion they determined rather to bury him in a Pit, than be his immediate Execu⯑tioners with their own Hands. When thus much was obtained for him, their Minds ſtill ſoftened towards him, and they took the Opportunity of ſome Paſſengers to ſell him into Egypt. Iſrael was perſuaded by the Artifice of his Sons, that the Youth was torn to Pieces by Wild Beaſts: But Joſeph was ſold to Slavery, and ſtill expoſed to new Misfortunes, from the ſame Cauſe as before, his Beauty and his Virtue. By a falſe Accuſation he was committed to Priſon, but in Proceſs of Time delivered from it, in Conſideration of his Wiſ⯑dom and Knowledge, and made the Governor of Pharaoh's Houſe. In this Elevation of his For⯑tune, his Brothers were ſent into Egypt to buy Ne⯑ceſſaries of Life in a Famine. As ſoon as they are brought into his Preſence, he beholds, but he beholds with Compaſſion, the Men who had ſold [194] him to Slavery approaching him with Awe and Reverence. While he was looking over his Bre⯑thren, he takes a Reſolution to indulge himſelf in the Pleaſure of ſtirring their and his own Af⯑fections, by keeping himſelf concealed, and exa⯑mining into the Circumſtances of their Family. For this End, with an Air of Severity, as a watch⯑ful Miniſter to Pharaoh, he accuſes them as Spies, who are come into Egypt with Deſigns againſt the State. This led them into the Account which he wanted of them, the Condition of their ancient Father and little Brother, whom they had left be⯑hind them. When he had learned that his Bro⯑ther was living, he demands the bringing him to Egypt, as a Proof of their Veracity.

But it would be a vain and empty Endeavour to attempt laying this excellent Repreſentation of the Paſſions of Man in the ſame Colours as they appear in the Sacred Writ in any other Manner, or almoſt any other Words, than thoſe made uſe of in the Page it ſelf. I am obliged therefore to turn my deſigned Narration rather into a Com⯑ment upon the ſeveral Parts of that beautiful and paſſionate Scene. When Joſeph expects to ſee Benjamin, How natural, and how forcible is the Reflection, This Affliction is come upon us in that we ſaw the Anguiſh of our Brother's Soul without Pity? How moving muſt it be to Joſeph to hear Reuben accuſe the reſt, that they would not hear what he pleaded in Behalf of his Innocence and Diſtreſs? He turns from them and weeps, but commands his Paſſion ſo far as to give Orders for binding one of them in the Preſence of the reſt, while he at Leiſure obſerved their different Sentiments and Concern in their Geſture and Countenance. When Benjamin is demanded in Bondage for ſtealing the Cup, With what Force, and what Reſignation does Judah addreſs his Brother?

In what Words ſhall I ſpeak to my Lord; with what Confidence can I ſay any Thing? Our Guilt [195] is but too apparent, we ſubmit to our Fate. We are my Lord's Servants, both we and he alſo with whom the Cup is found. When that is not accep⯑ted, How pathetically does he recapitulate the whole Story? And approaching nearer to Joſeph, delivers himſelf as follows; which, if we fix our Thoughts upon the Relation between the Plea⯑der and the Judge, it is impoſſible to read with⯑out Tears.

I HAVE Reaſon to believe, that certain of my Contemporaries have made Uſe of an Art (I ſome time ago profeſſed) of being often deſign⯑edly dull; and for that Reaſon ſhall not exert my ſelf when I ſee them lazy. He that has ſo much to ſtruggle with as the Man who pretends to cen⯑ſure others, muſt keep up his Fire for an Onſet, and may be allowed to carry his Arms a little careleſly upon an ordinary March. This Paper therefore ſhall be taken up by my Correſpon⯑dents, Two of which have ſent me the Two fol⯑lowing plain, but ſenſible and honeſt Letters, upon Subjects no leſs important than thoſe of Education and Devotion.

AMong thoſe Inclinations which are common to all Men, there is none more unaccounta⯑ble than that unequal Love by which Parents di⯑ſtinguiſh their Children from each other. Some⯑times Vanity and Self-love appear to have a Share towards this Effect; and in other Inſtances I have been apt to attribute it to meer Inſtinct: But however that is, we frequently ſee the Child that has been beholden to neither of theſe Im⯑pulſes in their Parents, in ſpight of being neg⯑lected, ſnubbed, and thwarted at Home, acquire a Behaviour which makes it as agreeable to all the reſt of the World, as that of every one elſe of [202] their Family is to each other. I fell into this Way of Thinking from an Intimacy which I have with a very good Houſe in our Neighbourhood, where there are Three Daughters of a very different Character and Genius. The eldeſt has a great deal of Wit and Cunning; the Second has good Senſe, but no Artifice; the Third has much Vi⯑vacity, but little Underſtanding. The Firſt is a fine, but ſcornful Woman; the Second is not charming, but very winning; the Third no Way commendable, but very deſirable. The Father of theſe young Creatures was ever a great Pretender to Wit, the Mother a Woman of as much Coquet⯑try. This Turn in the Parents has biaſſed their Affections towards their Children. The old Man ſuppoſes the eldeſt of his own Genius, and the Mother looks upon the youngeſt as her ſelf re⯑newed. By this Means, all the Lovers that ap⯑proach the Houſe are diſcarded by the Father for not obſerving Mrs. Mary's Wit and Beauty, and by the Mother for being blind to the Mien and Air of Mrs. Biddy. Come never ſo many Preten⯑ders, they are not ſuſpected to have the leaſt Thoughts of Mrs. Betty, the middle Daughter. Betty therefore is mortified into a Woman of a great deal of Merit, and knows ſhe muſt depend on that only for her Advancement. The middle⯑moſt is thus the Favourite of all her Acquaintance as well as mine, while the other Two carry a certain Inſolence about them in all Converſations, and expect the Partiality which they meet with at Home to attend them wherever they appear. So little do Parents underſtand that they are of all People the leaſt Judges of their Children's Merit, that what they reckon ſuch is ſeldom any Thing elſe but a Repetition of their own Faults and Infirmities.

There is, methinks, ſome Excuſe for being par⯑ticular, when one of the Offspring has any Defect in Nature. In this Caſe, the Child, if we may ſo [203] ſpeak, is ſo much the longer the Child of its Pa⯑rents, and calls for the Continuance of their Care and Indulgence from the Slowneſs of its Capaci⯑ty, or the Weakneſs of its Body. But there is no enduring to ſee Men enamoured only at the Sight of their own Impertinencies repeated, and to ob⯑ſerve, as we may ſometimes, that they have a ſe⯑cret Diſlike of their Children for a Degeneracy from their very Crimes. Commend me to Lady Goodly; ſhe is equal to all her own Children, but prefers them to thoſe of all the World beſide. My Lady is a perfect Hen in the Care of her Brood; ſhe fights and ſquabbles with all that ap⯑pear where they come, but is wholly unbiaſſed in diſpenſing her Favours among them. It is no ſmall Pains ſhe is at to defame all the young Wo⯑men in her Neighbourhood by Viſits, Whiſpers, Intimations, and Hearſays; all which ſhe ends with thanking Heaven, that no one living is ſo bleſſed with ſuch obedient and well inclined Chil⯑dren as her ſelf. Perhaps, ſays ſhe, Betty cannot dance like Mrs. Frontinett, and it is no great Mat⯑ter whether ſhe does or not; but ſhe comes into a Room with a good Grace; though ſhe ſays it that ſhould not, ſhe looks like a Gentlewoman. Then if Mrs. Rebecca is not ſo talkative as the mighty Wit Mrs. Clapper, yet ſhe is diſcreet, ſhe knows better what ſhe ſays when ſhe does ſpeak. If her Wit be ſlow, her Tongue never runs before it. This kind Parent lifts up her Eyes and Hands in Congratulation of her own good Fortune, and is maliciouſly thankful that none of her Girls are like any of her Neighbours: But this Preference of her own to all others, is grounded upon an Impulſe of Nature; while thoſe who like one be⯑fore another of their own, are ſo unpardonably unjuſt, that it could hardly be equalled in the Children, though they preferred all the reſt of the World to ſuch Parents. It is no unpleaſant Entertainment to ſee a Ball at a Dancing-School, [204] and obſerve the Joy of Relations when the young Ones, for whom they are concerned, are in Mo⯑tion. You need not be told whom the Dancers belong to. At their firſt Appearance the Paſſion of their Parents are in their Faces, and there is al⯑ways a Nod of Approbation ſtolen at a good Step, or a graceful Turn.

I remember among all my Acquaintance but one Man whom I have thought to live with his Children with Equanimity and a good Grace. He had Three Sons and One Daughter, whom he bred with all the Care imaginable in a liberal and ingenuous Way. I have often heard him ſay, He had the Weakneſs to love one much better than the other, but that he took as much Pains to cor⯑rect that as any other Criminal Paſſion that could ariſe in his Mind. His Method was, to make it the only Pretenſion in his Children to his Favour to be kind to each other; and he would tell them, That he who was the beſt Brother, he would reckon the beſt Son. This turned their Thoughts into an Emulation for the Superiority in kind and tender Affection towards each other. The Boys behaved themſelves very early with a Manly Friendſhip; and their Siſter, inſtead of the groſs Familiarities and impertinent Freedoms in Behaviour, uſual in other Houſes, was always treated by them with as much Complaiſance as any other young Lady of their Acquaintance. It was an unſpeakable Pleaſure to viſit or ſit at Meal in that Family. I have often ſeen the old Man's Heart flow at his Eyes with Joy upon Occaſions which would appear indifferent to ſuch as were Strangers to the Turn of his Mind; but a very ſlight Accident, wherein he ſaw his Children's Good-Will to one another, created in him the God-like Pleaſure of loving them, becauſe they loved each other. This great Command of him⯑ſelf, in hiding his firſt Impulſe to Partiality, at laſt improved to a ſteady Juſtice towards them; [205] and that which at firſt was but an Expedient to correct his Weakneſs, was afterwards the Mea⯑ſure of his Virtue.

The Truth of it is, thoſe Parents who are in⯑tereſted in the Care of one Child more than that of another, no longer deſerve the Name of Pa⯑rents, but are in Effect as childiſh as their Chil⯑dren, in having ſuch unreaſonable and ungovern⯑ed Inclinations. A Father of this Sort has degra⯑ded himſelf into one of his own Offspring; for none but a Child would take Part in the Paſſions of Children.

I Find in the Regiſters of my Family, that the Branch of the Bickerſtaffs, from which I am de⯑ſcended, came originally out of Ireland. This has given me a Kind of natural Affection for that Country. It is therefore with Pleaſure that I ſee not only ſome of the greateſt Warriors, but alſo of the greateſt Wits, to be Natives of that King⯑dom. The Gentleman who writes the following Letter is one of theſe laſt. The Matter of Fact contained in it is literally true, tho' the diverting Manner in which it is told may give it the Colour of a Fable.

There is no Study more becoming a rational Creature, than that of Natural Philoſophy; but as ſeveral of our modern Virtuoſo's manage it, their Speculations do not ſo much tend to open and enlarge the Mind, as to contract and fix it upon Trifles.

This in England is in a great Meaſure owing to the worthy Elections that are ſo frequently made in our Royal Society. They ſeem to be in a Con⯑federacy againſt Men of polite Genius, noble Thought, and diffuſive Learning; and chuſe into their Aſſemblies ſuch as have no Pretence to Wiſ⯑dom, but Want of Wit; or to natural Know⯑ledge, [209] but Ignorance of every Thing elſe. I have made Obſervations in this Matter ſo long, that when I meet with a young Fellow that is an humble Admirer of the Sciences, but more dull than the reſt of the Company, I conclude him to be a Fellow of the Royal Society.

COming Home laſt Night before my uſual Hour, I took a Book into my Hand, in or⯑der to divert my ſelf with it till Bed-time. Mil⯑ton chanced to be my Author, whoſe admirable Poem of Paradiſe Loſt ſerves, at once, to fill the Mind with pleaſing Idea's, and with good Thoughts, and was therefore the moſt proper Book for my Purpoſe. I was amuſing my ſelf with that beautiful Paſſage in which the Poet re⯑preſents Eve ſleeping by Adam's Side, with the Devil ſitting at her Ear, and inſpiring evil Thoughts under the Shape of a Toad. Ithuriel, one of the Guardian Angels of the Place, walking his Nightly Rounds, ſaw the great Enemy of Mankind hid in this loathſome Animal, which he touched with his Spear. This Spear being of a Celeſtial Temper, had ſuch a ſecret Virtue in it, that whatever it was applied to, immediately flung off all Diſguiſe, and appeared in its natu⯑ral Figure. I am afraid the Reader will not par⯑don me if I content my ſelf with explaining the [210] Paſſage in Proſe, without giving it in the Author's own inimitable Words:

I could not forbear thinking how happy a Man would be in the Poſſeſſion of this Spear; or what an Advantage it would be to a Miniſter of State, were he Maſter of ſuch a White Staff. It would let him diſcover his Friends from his Enemies, Men of Abilities from Pretenders: It would hin⯑der him from being impoſed upon by Appea⯑rances and Profeſſions, and might be made uſe of as a Kind of State Teſt, which no Artifice could elude.

Theſe Thoughts made very lively Impreſſions on my Imagination, which were improv'd, in⯑ſtead of being defaced by Sleep, and produced in me the following Dream: I was no ſooner fallen [211] aſleep, but, methoughts, the Angel Ithuriel ap⯑peared to me, and with a Smile that ſtill added to his Celeſtial Beauty, made me a Preſent of the Spear which he held in his Hand, and diſappear⯑ed. To make Trial of it, I went into a Place of publick Reſort.

The firſt Perſon that paſſed by me, was a Lady that had a particular Shyneſs in the Caſt of her Eye, and a more than ordinary Reſervedneſs in all the Parts of her Behaviour. She ſeemed to look upon Man as an obſcene Creature, with a certain Scorn and Fear of him. In the Height of her Airs I touched her gently with my Wand, when, to my unſpeakable Surprize, ſhe fell upon her Back, and kick'd up her Heels in ſuch a Man⯑ner, as made me bluſh in my Sleep. As I was haſting away from this undiſguiſed Prude, I ſaw a Lady in earneſt Diſcourſe with another, and overheard her ſay with ſome Vehemence, Never tell me of him, for I am reſolv'd to die a Vir⯑gin! I had a Curioſity to try her; but as ſoon as I laid my Wand upon her Head, ſhe immediately fell in Labour. My Eyes were diverted from her by a Man and his Wife, who walked near me Hand in Hand after a very loving Manner. I gave each of them a gentle Tap, and the next Inſtant ſaw the Woman in Breeches, and the Man with a Fan in his Hand. It would be tedious to deſcribe the long Series of Metamorphoſes that I entertained my ſelf with in my Night's Adven⯑ture, of Whigs diſguiſed in Tories, and Tories in Whigs; Men in Red Coats that denounced Ter⯑ror in their Countenances, trembling at the Touch of my Spear; others in Black with Peace in their Mouths, but Swords in their Hands. I could tell Stories of Noblemen changed into Uſurers, and Magiſtrates into Beadles; of Free-Thinkers into Penitents, and Reformers into Whoremaſters. I muſt not however omit the Mention of a grave Citizen that paſſed by me with an huge Claſped [212] Bible under his Arm, and a Band of a moſt im⯑moderate Breadth; but upon a Touch on the Shoulder, he let drop his Book, and fell a picking my Pocket.

In the general I obſerved, that thoſe who ap⯑peared good, often diſappointed my Expectation; but that on the contrary, thoſe who appeared ve⯑ry bad, ſtill grew worſe upon the Experiment; as the Toad in Milton, which one would have thought the moſt deformed Part of the Creation, at Ithuriel's Stroke, became more deformed, and ſtarted up into a Devil.

Among all the Perſons that I touched, there was but one who ſtood the Teſt of my Wand; and after many Repetitions of the Stroke, ſtuck to his Form, and remained ſteady and fixed in his firſt Appearance. This was a young Man who boaſted of foul Diſtempers, wild Debauches, In⯑ſults upon holy Men, and Affronts to Religion.

My Heart was extremely troubled at this Vi⯑ſion: The Contemplation of the whole Species, ſo entirely ſunk in Corruption, filled my Mind with a Melancholy that is inexpreſſible, and my Diſcoveries ſtill added to my Affliction.

In the Midſt of theſe Sorrows which I had in my Heart, methoughts there paſſed by me a Cou⯑ple of Coaches with Purple Liveries. There ſate in each of them a Perſon with a very venerable Aſpect. At the Appearance of them, the People who were gathered round me in great Multi⯑tudes divided into Parties, as they were diſpoſed to favour either of thoſe reverend Perſons: The Enemies of one of them begged me to touch him with my Wand, and aſſured me, I ſhould ſee his Lawn converted into a Cloak. The oppoſite Par⯑ty told me with as much Aſſurance, That if I laid my Wand upon the other, I ſhould ſee his Garments embroidered with Flower-de-Luces, and his Head covered with a Cardinal's Cap. I made the Experiment, and to my great Joy, ſaw [213] them both, without any Change, diſtributing their Bleſſings to the People, and praying for thoſe who had reviled them. Is it poſſible, thought I, that good Men, who are ſo few in Number, ſhould be divided among themſelves, and give better Quarter to the Vicious that are in their Party, than the moſt ſtrictly Virtuous who are out of it? Are the Ties of Faction above thoſe of Religion?—I was going on in my Soli⯑loquies, but ſome ſudden Accident awakened me, when I found my Hand graſped, but my Spear gone. The Reflection on ſo very odd a Dream made me figure to my ſelf, What a ſtrange Face the World would bear, ſhould all Mankind appear in their proper Shapes and Characters, without Hypocriſy and Diſguiſe? I am afraid, the Earth we live upon would appear to other in⯑tellectual Beings no better than a Planet peopled with Monſters. This ſhould, methinks, inſpire us with an honeſt Ambition of recommending our ſelves to thoſe inviſible Spies, and of being what we would appear. There was one Circum⯑ſtance in my foregoing Dream which I at firſt intended to conceal; but upon ſecond Thoughts, I cannot look upon my ſelf as a candid and im⯑partial Hiſtorian, if I do not acquaint my Reader, that upon taking Ithuriel's Spear into my Hand, though I was before an old decrepid Fellow, I appeared a very handſome, jolly, black Man. But I know my Enemies will ſay, this is praiſing my own Beauty, for which Reaſon I will ſpeak no more of it.

STorms at Sea are ſo frequently deſcribed by the ancient Poets, and copied by the Moderns, that whenever I find the Winds begin to riſe in a new Heroick Poem, I generally skip a Leaf or Two till I come into Fair Weather. Virgil's Tempeſt is a Maſter-piece in this Kind, and is in⯑deed ſo naturally drawn, that one who has made a Voyage can ſcarce read it without being Sea⯑ſick.

Land Showers are no leſs frequent among the Poets than the former, but I remember none of them which have not fallen in the Country; for which Reaſon they are generally filled with the Lowings of Oxen, and the Bleatings of Sheep, and very often embelliſhed with a Rainbow.

Virgil's Land Shower is likewiſe the beſt in its Kind: It is indeed a Shower of Conſequence, and contributes to the main Deſign of the Poem, by cutting off a tedious Ceremonial, and bringing Matters to a ſpeedy Concluſion between Two Po⯑tentates of different Sexes. My ingenious Kinſ⯑man Mr. Humphry Wagſtaff, who treats of every Subject after a Manner that no other Author has done, and better than any other can do, has ſent me the Deſcription of a City Shower. I do not queſtion but the Reader remembers my Couſin's Deſcription of the Morning as it breaks in Town, [215] which is printed in the 9th Tatler, and is another exquiſite Piece of this Local Poetry:

IT is ridiculous for any Man to criticiſe on the Works of another, who has not diſtinguiſhed himſelf by his own Performances. A Judge would make but an indifferent Figure who had never been known at the Bar. Cicero was reputed the greateſt Orator of his Age and Country before he wrote a Book De Oratore; and Horace the great⯑eſt Poet before he publiſhed his Art of Poetry. This Obſervation ariſes naturally in any one who caſts his Eye upon this laſt mentioned Author, where he will find the Criticiſms placed in the latter End of his Book, that is, after the fineſt Odes and Satyrs in the Latin Tongue.

A Modern, whoſe Name I ſhall not mention, becauſe I would not make a ſilly Paper ſell, was born a Critick and an Examiner, and, like one of the Race of the Serpent's Teeth, came into the World with a Sword in his Hand. His Works put me in mind of the Story that is told of a Ger⯑man Monk, who was taking a Catalogue of a Friend's Library, and meeting with a Hebrew Book in it, entered it under the Title of, A Book that has the Beginning where the End ſhould be. This Author, in the laſt of his Crudities, has amaſ⯑ſed together a Heap of Quotations, to prove that Horace and Virgil were both of them modeſter Men than my ſelf, and if his Works were to live as long as mine, they might poſſibly give Poſte⯑rity a Notion, that Iſaac Bickerſtaff was a very [218] conceited old Fellow, and as vain a Man as either Tully or Sir Francis Bacon. Had this ſerious Wri⯑ter fallen upon me only, I could have overlook⯑ed it; but to ſee Cicero abuſed, is, I muſt confeſs, what I cannot bear. The Cenſure he paſſes upon this great Man runs thus; The Itch of being very Abuſive, is almoſt inſeparable from Vain-Glory. Tully has theſe Two Faults in ſo high a Degree, that nothing but his being the beſt Writer in the World can make Amends for them. The ſcurrilous Wretch goes on to ſay I am as bad as Tully. His Words are theſe; And yet the Tatler, in his Paper of Sep⯑tember 26, has out-done him in both. He ſpeaks of himſelf with more Arrogance, and with more Inſo⯑lence of others. I am afraid by his Diſcourſe, this Gentleman has no more read Plutarch than he has Tully. If he had, he would have obſerved a Paſ⯑ſage in that Hiſtorian, wherein he has with great Delicacy diſtinguiſh'd between Two Paſſions which are uſually complicated in Humane Nature, and which an ordinary Writer would not have thought of ſeparating. Not having my Greek Spectacles by me, I ſhall quote the Paſſage Word for Word as I find it tranſlated to my Hand. Nevertheleſs, tho' he was intemperately fond of his own Praiſe, yet he was very free from envying others, and moſt li⯑berally profuſe in commending both the Ancients and his Contemporaries, as is to be underſtood by his Wri⯑tings; and many of thoſe Sayings are ſtill recorded, as that concerning Ariſtotle, That he was a River of flowing Gold: Of Plato's Dialogue, That if Jupi⯑ter were to ſpeak, he would diſcourſe as he did. Theophraſtus he was wont to call his peculiar De⯑light; and being asked, Which of Demoſthenes his Orations he liked beſt? He anſwered, The longeſt.

And as for the Eminent Men of his own Time, ei⯑ther for Eloquence or Philoſophy, there was not one of them which he did not, by writing or ſpeaking fa⯑vourably of, render more illuſtrious.

[219] Thus the Critick tells us, That Cicero was ex⯑ceſſively vain-glorious and abuſive; Plutarch, that he was vain, but not abuſive. Let the Reader be⯑lieve which of them he pleaſes.

After this he complains to the World, that I call him Names; and that in my Paſſion I ſaid, He was a Flea, a Louſe, an Owl, a Bat, a ſmall Wit, a Scribbler, and a Nibbler. When he has thus be⯑ſpoken his Reader's Pity, he falls into that admi⯑rable Vein of Mirth, which I ſhall ſet down at length, it being an exquiſite Piece of Raillery, and written in great Gaiety of Heart. After this Liſt of Names, (viz. Flea, Louſe, Owl, Bat, &c.) I was ſurpriſed to hear him ſay, that he has hitherto kept his Temper pretty well; I wonder how he will write when he has loſt his Temper? I ſuppoſe, as he now is very angry and unmannerly, he will then be ex⯑ceeding courteous and good-humoured. If I can out-live this Raillery, I ſhall be able to bear any Thing.

There is a Method of Criticiſm made Uſe of by this Author, (for I ſhall take Care how I call him a Scribbler again) which may turn into Ridicule any Work that was ever written, wherein there is a Variety of Thoughts: This the Reader will obſerve in the following Words; He (meaning me) is ſo intent upon being ſomething extraordina⯑ry, that he ſcarce knows what he would be; and is as fruitful in his Similes, as a Brother of his whom I lately took Notice of. In the Compaſs of a few Lines he compares himſelf to a Fox, to Daniel Burgeſs, to the Knight of the Red Croſs, to an Oak with Ivy about it, and to a great Man with an Equipage. I think my ſelf as much honoured by being joined in this Part of his Paper with the Gentleman whom he here calls my Brother, as I am in the Beginning of it, by being mentioned with Horace and Virgil.

It is very hard that a Man cannot publiſh Ten Papers without ſtealing from himſelf; but to ſhow you that this is only a Knack of Writing, and that [220] the Author is got into a certain Road of Criticiſm, I ſhall ſet down his Remarks on the Works of the Gentleman whom he here glances upon, as they ſtand in his 6th Paper, and deſire the Reader to compare them with the foregoing Paſſage upon mine.

In Thirty Lines his Patron is a River, the Primum Mobile, a Pilot, a Victim, the Sun, any Thing, and Nothing. He beſtows Increaſe, conceals his Source, makes the Machine move, teaches to ſteer, expiates our Offences, raiſes Vapours, and looks larger as he ſets.

What Poem can be ſafe from this Sort of Criti⯑ciſm? I think I was never in my Life ſo much offended as at a Wag whom I once met with in a Coffee-houſe: He had in his Hand one of the Miſcellanies, and was reading the following ſhort Copy of Verſes, which, without Flattery to the Author, is (I think) as beautiful in its Kind as any one in the Engliſh Tongue.

When this Coxcomb had done reading them, Heyday! ſays he, What Inſtrument is this that Flavia employs in ſuch a Manner as is not to be told, nor ſafely ſeen? In Ten Lines it is a Toy, a Cupid's Bow, a Fan, and an Engine in Love. It has wanton Motions, it wounds, it cools, and in⯑flames.

Such Criticiſms make a Man of Senſe ſick, and a Fool merry.

[221] The next Paragraph of the Paper we are talk⯑ing of, falls upon ſome Body whom I am at a Loſs to gueſs at: But I find the whole Invective turns upon a Man who (it ſeems) has been impri⯑ſoned for Debt. Whoever he was, I muſt hear⯑tily pity him; but at the ſame Time muſt put the Examiner in Mind, that notwithſtanding he is a Critick, he ſtill ought to remember he is a Chri⯑ſtian. Poverty was never thought a proper Sub⯑ject for Ridicule; and I do not remember that I ever met with a Satyr upon a Beggar.

As for thoſe little Retortings of my own Ex⯑preſſions, of being dull by Deſign, witty in October, ſhining, excelling, and ſo forth; they are the com⯑mon Cavils of every Witlin, who has no other Method of ſhowing his Parts, but by little Varia⯑tions and Repetitions of the Man's Words whom he attacks.

But the Truth of it is, the Paper before me, not only in this Particular, but in its very Eſſence, is like Ovid's Eccho:

I ſhould not have deſerved the Character of a Cenſor, had I not animadverted upon the above⯑mentioned Author by a gentle Chaſtiſement: But I know my Reader will not pardon me, unleſs I declare, that nothing of this Nature for the future (unleſs it be written with ſome Wit) ſhall divert me from my Care of the Publick.

I DO not remember that in any of my Lucu⯑brations I have touched upon that uſeful Sci⯑ence of Phyſick, notwithſtanding I have declared my ſelf more than once a Profeſſor of it. I have indeed joined the Study of Aſtrology with it, be⯑cauſe I never knew a Phyſician recommend him⯑ſelf to the Publick who had not a Siſter Art to embelliſh his Knowledge in Medicine. It has been commonly obſerved in Compliment to the Inge⯑nious of our Profeſſion, that Apollo was God of Verſe as well as Phyſick; and in all Ages the moſt celebrated Practitioners of our Country were the particular Favourites of the Muſes. Poetry to Phyſick is indeed like the Gilding to a Pill; it makes the Art ſhine, and covers the Severity of the Doctor with the Agreeableneſs of the Com⯑panion.

The very Foundation of Poety is good Senſe, if we may allow Harace to be a Judge of the Art.

And if ſo, we have Reaſon to believe, that the ſame Man who writes well can preſcribe well, if he has applied himſelf to the Study of both. Be⯑ſides, when we ſee a Man making Profeſſion of Two different Sciences, it is natural for us to be⯑lieve he is no Pretender in that which we are not Judges of when we find him skilful in that which we underſtand.

[223] Ordinary Quacks and Charlatans are throughly ſenſible how neceſſary it is to ſupport themſelves by theſe collateral Aſſiſtances, and therefore al⯑ways lay their Claim to ſome ſupernumerary Ac⯑compliſhments which are wholly foreign to their Profeſſion.

About 20 Years ago, it was impoſſible to walk the Streets without having an Advertiſement thruſt into your Hand of a Doctor who was arrived at the Knowledge of the Green and Red Dragon, and had diſcovered the Female Fern Seed. No Body ever knew what this meant; but the Green and Red Dragon ſo amuſed the People, that the Doctor li⯑ved very comfortably upon them. About the ſame Time there was paſted a very hard Word upon every Corner of the Streets. This, to the beſt of my Remembrance, was ‘TETRACHYMAGOGON.’ Which drew great Shoals of Spectators about it, who read the Bill that it introduced with un⯑ſpeakable Curioſity; and when they were ſick, would have no Body but this learned Man for their Phyſician.

I once received an Advertiſement of one who had ſtudied Thirty Years by Candle-light for the Good of his Countrymen. He might have ſtudied Twice as long by Day-light, and never have been taken Notice of: But Lucubrations cannot be over-valued. There are ſome who have gained themſelves great Reputation for Phyſick by their Birth, as the Seventh Son of a Seventh Son; and others by not being born at all, as the Unborn Doctor, who, I hear, is lately gone the Way of his Patients, having died worth Five Hundred Pounds per Annum, though he was not born to a Halfpenny.

My ingenious Friend Doctor Saffold, ſucceeded my old Contemporary Doctor Lilly in the Studies both of Phyſick and Aſtrology, to which he ad⯑ded [224] that of Poetry, as was to be ſeen both upon the Sign where he lived, and in the Bills which he diſtributed. He was ſucceeded by Doctor Caſe, who eraſed the Verſes of his Predeceſſor out of the Sign-Poſt, and ſubſtituted in their Stead Two of his own, which were as follow:

He is ſaid to have got more by this Diſtich, than Mr. Dryden did by all his Works. There would be no End of enumerating the ſeveral imaginary Per⯑fections and unaccountable Artifices by which this Tribe of Men enſnare the Minds of the Vulgar, and gain Crowds of Admirers. I have ſeen the whole Front of a Mountebank's Stage from one End to the other faced with Patents, Certificates, Medals, and Great Seals, by which the ſeveral Princes of Europe have teſtified their particular Re⯑ſpect and Eſteem for the Doctor. Every great Man with a ſounding Title has been his Patient. I be⯑lieve I have ſeen Twenty Mountebanks that have given Phyſick to the Czar of Moſcovy. The Great Duke of Tuſcany eſcapes no better. The Elector of Brandenburg was likewiſe a very good Patient.

This great Condeſcenſion of the Doctor draws upon him much Good-Will from his Audience; and it is Ten to One, but if any of them be trou⯑bled with an aching Tooth, his Ambition will prompt him to get it drawn by a Perſon who has had ſo many Princes, Kings, and Emperors, under his Hands.

I muſt not leave this Subject without obſerving, that as Phyſicians are apt to deal in Poetry, Apo⯑thecaries endeavour to recommend themſelves by Oratory, and are therefore without Controverſy the moſt eloquent Perſons in the whole Britiſh Na⯑tion. I would not willingly diſcourage any of the Arts, eſpecially that of which I am an humble Pro⯑feſſor; but I muſt confeſs, for the Good of my [225] native Country, I could wiſh there might be a Suſ⯑penſion of Phyſick for ſome Years, that our King⯑dom, which has been ſo much exhauſted by the Wars, might have Leave to recruit it ſelf.

As for my ſelf, the only Phyſick which has brought me ſafe to almoſt the Age of Man, and which I preſcribe to all my Friends, is Abſtinence. This is certainly the beſt Phyſick for Prevention, and very often the moſt effectual againſt a preſent Diſtemper. In ſhort, my Recipe is, Take nothing.

Were the Body Politick to be phyſick'd like particular Perſons, I ſhould venture to preſcribe to it after the ſame Manner. I remember when our wholeIſland was ſhaken with an Earthquake ſome Years ago, there was an impudent Mountebank who ſold Pills which (as he told the Country People) were very good againſt an Earthquake. It may perhaps be thought as abſurd to preſcribe a Diet for the allaying Popular Commotions, and National Ferments. But I am verily perſwaded, that if in ſuch a Caſe a whole People were to en⯑ter into a Courſe of Abſtinence, and eat nothing but Water-gruel for a Fortnight, it would abate the Rage and Animoſity of Parties, and not a lit⯑tle contribute to the Cure of a diſtracted Nation. Such a Faſt would have a natural Tendency to the procuring of thoſe Ends for which a Faſt is uſually proclaimed. If any Man has a Mind to enter on ſuch a voluntary Abſtinence, it might not be improper to give him the Caution of Py⯑thagoras in particular:

That is, ſay the Interpreters, Meddle not with Elections, Beans having been made Uſe of by the Voters among the Athenians in the Choice of Ma⯑giſtrates.

A Method of ſpending one's Time agreeably is a Thing ſo little ſtudied, that the common Amuſement of our young Gentlemen (eſpecially of ſuch as are at a Diſtance from thoſe of the firſt Breeding) is Drinking. This Way of Entertain⯑ment has Cuſtom of its Side; but as much as it has prevailed, I believe there have been very few Companies that have been guilty of Exceſs this Way, where there have not happened more Acci⯑dents which make againſt, than for the Continu⯑ance of it. It is very common that Events ariſe from a Debauch which are fatal, and always ſuch as are diſagreeable. With all a Man's Reaſon and good Senſe about him, his Tongue is apt to utter Things out of meer Gaiety of Heart which may diſpleaſe his beſt Friends. Who then would truſt himſelf to the Power of Wine, without ſaying more againſt it, than that it raiſes the Imagination, and depreſſes the Judgment. Were there only this ſingle Conſideration, That we are leſs Maſters of our ſelves when we drink in the leaſt Proportion above the Exigencies of Thirſt; I ſay, were this all that could be objected, it were ſufficient to make us abhor this Vice. But we may go on to ſay, that as he who drinks but a little is not Ma⯑ſter of himſelf, ſo he who drinks much is a Slave to himſelf. As for my Part, I ever eſteemed a Drunkard of all vicious Perſons the moſt vicious: For if our Actions are to be weighed and conſi⯑dered according to the Intention of them, what can we think of him who puts himſelf into a Cir⯑cumſtance [227] wherein he can have no Intention at all, but incapacitates himſelf for the Duties and Of⯑fices of Life, by a Suſpenſion of all his Faculties. If a Man conſidered, that he cannot under the Op⯑preſſion of Drink be a Friend, a Gentleman, a Ma⯑ſter, or a Subject; that he has ſo long baniſhed himſelf from all that is dear, and given up all that is ſacred to him, he would even then think of a Debauch with Horror: But when he looks ſtill further, and acknowledges, that he is not only expelled out of all the Relations of Life, but alſo liable to offend againſt them all, What Words can expreſs the Terror and Deteſtation he would have of ſuch a Condition? And yet he owns all this of himſelf who ſays he was drunk laſt Night.

As I have all along perſiſted in it, that all the Vicious in general are in a State of Death, ſo I think I may add to the Non-Exiſtence of Drunk⯑ards, that they died by their own Hands. He is certainly as guilty of Suicide who periſhes by a ſlow, as he that is diſpatched by an immediate, Poiſon. In my laſt Lucubration I propoſed the general Uſe of Water-gruel, and hinted, that it might not be amiſs at this very Seaſon: But as there are ſome, whoſe Caſes, in regard to their Families, will not admit of Delay, I have uſed my Intereſt in ſeveral Wards of the City, that the wholeſome Reſtorative above-mentioned may be given in Tavern Kitchens to all the Mornings Draught Men within the Walls when they call for Wine before Noon. For a further Reſtraint and Mark upon ſuch Perſons, I have given Orders, that in all the Offices where Policies are drawn upon Lives, it ſhall be added to the Article which prohibits that the Nominee ſhould croſs the Sea, the Words, Provided alſo, That the above-mention⯑ed A. B. ſhall not drink before Dinner during the Term mentioned in this Indenture.

I am not without Hopes but by this Method I ſhall bring ſome unſizeable Friends of mine into [228] Shape and Breath, as well as others who are languid and conſumptive into Health and Vigour. Moſt of the Self-Murderers whom I yet hinted at, are ſuch as preſerve a certain Regularity in taking their Poiſon, and make it mix pretty well with their Food: But the moſt conſpicuous of thoſe who deſtroy themſelves, are ſuch as in their Youth fall into this Sort of Debauchery, and contract a certain Uneaſineſs of Spirit, which is not to be diverted but by Tippling as often as they can fall into Company in the Day, and conclude with downright Drunkenneſs at Night. Theſe Gen⯑tlemen never know the Satisfaction of Youth, but skip the Years of Manhood, and are decrepid ſoon after they are of Age. I was Godfather to one of theſe old Fellows. He is now Three and Thirty, which is the Grand Climacterick of a young Drunkard. I went to viſit the crazy Wretch this Morning, with no other Purpoſe but to rally him under the Pain and Uneaſineſs of being ſober.

But as out Faults are double when they affect others beſides our ſelves, ſo this Vice is ſtill more odious in a married than a ſingle Man. He that is the Husband of a Woman of Honour, and comes Home overloaded with Wine, is ſtill more con⯑temptible in Proportion to the Regard we have to the unhappy Conſort of his Beſtiality. The Ima⯑gination cannot ſhape to its ſelf any Thing more monſtrous and unnatural than the Familiarities between Drunkenneſs and Chaſtity. The wretch⯑ed Aſtraea, who is the Perfection of Beauty and In⯑nocence, has long been thus condemned for Life. The Romantick Tales of Virgins devoted to the Jaws of the Monſters, have nothing in them ſo terrible as the Gift of Aſtraea to that Bacchanal.

The Reflection of ſuch a Match as ſpotleſs In⯑nocence with abandoned Lewdneſs, is what puts this Vice in the worſt Figure it can bear with Re⯑gard to others; but when it is looked upon with Reſpect only to the Drunkard himſelf, it has De⯑formities [229] enough to make it diſagreeable, which may be ſummed up in a Word, by allowing, that he who reſigns his Reaſon, is actually guilty of all that he is liable to from the Want of Reaſon.

P. S. Among many other Enormities, there are Two in the following Letters which I think ſhould be ſuddenly amended; but ſince they are Sins of Omiſſion only, I ſhall not make Remarks upon them till I find the Delinquents perſiſt in their Errors; and the inſerting the Letters themſelves ſhall be all their preſent Admonition.

IT was with very great Diſpleaſure I heard this Day a Man ſay of a Companion of his with an Air of Approbation, You know Tom never fails of ſaying a ſpightful Thing. He has a great deal of Wit, but Satyr is his particular Talent. Did you mind how he put the young Fellow out of Counte⯑nance that pretended to talk to him? Such imper⯑tinent Applauſes, which one meets with every Day, put me upon conſidering what true Raillery and Satyr were in themſelves; and this, me⯑thought, occurred to me from Reflection upon the great and excellent Perſons that were admi⯑red for Talents this Way. When I had ran over ſeveral ſuch in my Thoughts, I concluded, (how⯑ever unaccountable the Aſſertion might appear at firſt Sight) that Good-Nature was an eſſential Quality in a Satyriſt, and that all the Sentiments which are beautiful in this Way of Writing muſt proceed from that Quality in the Author. Good-Nature produces a Diſdain of all Baſeneſs, Vice, and Folly, which prompts them to expreſs them⯑ſelves with Smartneſs againſt the Errors of Men, without Bitterneſs towards their Perſons. This Quality keeps the Mind in Equanimity, and ne⯑ver lets an Offence unſeaſonably throw a Man out of his Character. When Virgil ſaid, He that did not hate Bavius might love Maevius, he [232] was in perfect good Humour, and was not ſo much moved at their Abſurdities, as paſſionately to call them Sots or Blockheads in a direct In⯑vective, but laughed at them with a Delicacy of Scorn, without any Mixture of Anger.

The beſt good Man, with the worſt-natured Muſe, was the Character among us of a Gentleman as famous for his Humanity as his Wit.

The ordinary Subjects for Satyr are ſuch as in⯑cite the greateſt Indignation in the beſt Tem⯑pers, and conſequently Men of ſuch a Make are the beſt qualified for ſpeaking of the Offences in Humane Life. Theſe Men can behold Vice and Folly when they injure Perſons to whom they are wholly unacquainted, with the ſame Severity as others reſent the Ills they do themſelves. A good-natured Man cannot ſee an over-bearing Fellow put a baſhful Man of Merit out of Coun⯑tenance, or outſtrip him in the Purſuit of any Advantage; but he is on Fire to ſuccour the Op⯑preſſed, to produce the Merit of the one, and confront the Impudence of the other.

The Men of the greateſt Character in this Kind were Horace and Juvenal. There is not, that I remember, one ill-natured Expreſſion in all their Writings, not one Sentence of Severity which does not apparently proceed from the contrary Diſpoſition. Whoever reads them, will, I be⯑lieve, be of this Mind; and if they were read with this View, it may poſſibly perſwade our young Fellows, that they may be very witty Men without ſpeaking ill of any but thoſe who deſerve it: But in the Peruſal of theſe Writers it may not be unneceſſary to conſider, that they lived in very different Times. Horace was inti⯑mate with a Prince of the greateſt Goodneſs and Humanity imaginable, and his Court was formed after his Example: Therefore the Faults that Poet falls upon were little Inconſiſtencies in Behaviour, falſe Pretences to Politeneſs, or im⯑pertinent [233] Affectations of what Men were not fit for. Vices of a coarſer Sort could not come un⯑der his Conſideration, or enter the Palace of Au⯑guſtus. Juvenal on the other Hand lived under Domitian, in whoſe Reign every Thing that was great and noble was baniſhed the Habitations of the Men in Power. Therefore he attacks Vice as it paſſes by in Triumph, not as it breaks into Converſation. The Fall of Empire, Contempt of Glory, and a general Degeneracy of Manners, are before his Eyes in all his Writings. In the Days of Auguſtus, to have talked like Juvenal had been Madneſs, or in thoſe of Domitian like Horace. Morality and Virtue are every where re⯑commended in Horace, as became a Man in a po⯑lite Court, from the Beauty, the Propriety, the Convenience, of purſuing them. Vice and Corruption are attacked by Juvenal in a Style which denotes, he fears he ſhall not be heard without he calls to them in their own Language, with a bare-faced Mention of the Villanies and Obſcenities of his Contemporaries.

This accidental Talk of theſe Two great Men runs me from my Deſign, which was to tell ſome Coxcombs that run about this Town with the Name of Smart Satyrical Fellows, that they are by no Means qualified for the Characters they pretend to, of being ſevere upon other Men, for they want Good-Nature. There is no Founda⯑tion in them for arriving at what they aim at; and they may as well pretend to flatter, as rail agreeably without being Good-Natured.

There is a certain Impartiality neceſſary to make what a Man ſays bear any Weight with thoſe he ſpeaks to. This Quality, with Reſpect to Men's Errors and Vices, is never ſeen but in Good-natured Men. They have ever ſuch a Frankneſs of Mind, and Benevolence to all Men, that they cannot receive Impreſſions of Unkind⯑neſs without mature Deliberation; and writing [234] or ſpeaking ill of a Man upon Perſonal Conſide⯑ratious, is ſo irreparable and mean an Injury, that no o [...] [...]ſſeſſed of this Quality is capable of do⯑ing it. But in all Ages there have been Interpre⯑ters to A [...]rs when living, of the ſame Genius with the Commentators, into whoſe Hands they fall when dead. I dare ſay, it is impoſſible for any Man of [...]e Wit than one of theſe to take any of the F [...] and twenty Letters, and form out of them a Name to deſcribe the Character of a Vicious Man with greater Life, but one of theſe would immediately cry, Mr. ſuch a one is meant in that Place. But the Truth of it is, Sa⯑tyriſts deſcribe the Age, and Backbiters aſſign their Deſcriptions to private Men.

In all Terms of Reproof, when the Sentence appears to ariſe from Perſonal Hatred or Paſſion, it is not then made the Cauſe of Mankind, but a Miſunderſtanding between Two Perſons. For this Reaſon, the Repreſentations of a Good-na⯑tured Man bear a Pleaſantry in them, which ſhows there is no Malignity at heart, and by Conſequence are attended to by his Hearers or Readers becauſe they are unprejudiced. This Deference is only what is due to him; for no Man thoroughly nettled can ſay a Thing general enough to paſs off with the Air of an Opinion declared, and not a Paſſion gratified. I remem⯑ber a humorous Fellow at Oxford, when he heard any one had ſpoken ill of him, uſed to ſay, I won't take my Revenge on him till I have forgiven him. What he meant by this, was, that he would not enter upon this Subject till it was grown as indifferent to him as any other; and I have, by this Rule, ſeen him more than once triumph over his Adverſary with an inimitable Spirit and Humour; for he came to the Aſſault againſt a Man full of ſore Places, and he himſelf invulnerable.

[235] There is no Poſſibility of ſucceeding in a Sa⯑tyrical Way of Writing or Speaking, except a Man throws himſelf quite out of the Queſtion. It is great Vanity to think any one will attend a Thing becauſe it is your Quarrel. You muſt make your Satyr the Concern of Society in ge⯑neral, if you would have it regarded. When it is ſo, the Good-Nature of a Man of Wit will prompt him to many brisk and diſdainful Senti⯑ments and Replies, to which all the Malice in the World will not be able to repartee.

I Have ſomewhere made Mention of Gyges's Ring, and intimated to my Reader, that it was at preſent in my Poſſeſſion, though I have not ſince made any Uſe of it. The Tradition con⯑cerning this Ring is very Romantick, and taken Notice of both by Plato and Tully, who each of them make an admirable Uſe of it for the Ad⯑vancement of Morality. This Gyges was the Ma⯑ſter Shepherd to King Candaules. As he was wandering over the Plains of Lydia, he ſaw a great Chaſm in the Earth, and had the Curioſity to enter it. After having deſcended pretty far into it, he found the Statue of an Horſe in Braſs, with Doors in the Sides of it. Upon opening of them, he found the Body of a dead Man big⯑ger than ordinary, with a Ring upon his Fin⯑ger, [236] which he took off, and put it upon his own. The Virtues of it were much greater than he at firſt imagined; for upon his going into the Aſ⯑ſembly of Shepherds, he obſerved, that he was inviſible when he turned the Stone of the Ring within the Palm of his Hand, and viſible when he turned it towards his Company. Had Plato and Cicers been as well verſed in the Occult Sciences as I am, they would have found a great deal of Myſtick Learning in this Tradition; but it is impoſſible for an Adept to be underſtood by one who is not an Adept.

As for my ſelf, I have with much Study and Application arrived at this great Secret of ma⯑king my ſelf inviſible, and by that Means con⯑veying my ſelf where I pleaſed; or to ſpeak in Roſycrucian Lore, I have entered into the Clefts of the Earth, diſcovered the Brazen Horſe, and robbed the dead Giant of his Ring. The Tradi⯑tion ſays further of Gyges, that by the Means of this Ring he gained Admiſſion into the moſt re⯑tired Parts of the Court, and made ſuch Uſe of thoſe Opportunities, that he at length became King of Lydia. For my own Part, I, who have always rather endeavoured to improve my Mind than my Fortune, have turned this Ring to no other Advantage than to get a thorough Inſight into the Ways of Men, and to make ſuch Obſer⯑vations upon the Errors of others as may be uſe⯑ful to the Publick, whatever Effect they may have upon my ſelf.

About a Week ago, not being able to ſleep, I got up and put on my magical Ring, and with a Thought tranſported my ſelf into a Chamber where I ſaw a Light. I found it inhabited by a celebrated Beauty, though ſhe is of that Species of Women whith we call a Slattern. Her Head⯑dreſs and one of her Shoes lay upon a Chair, her Petticoat in one Corner of the Room, and her Girdle that had a Copy of Verſes made upon [237] it but the Day before, with her Thread Stock⯑ings, in the middle of the Floor. I was ſo foo⯑liſhly officious, that I could not forbear gather⯑ing up her Cloaths together to lay them upon the Chair that ſtood by her Bed-ſide, when, to my great Surpriſe, after a little Muttering, ſhe cried out, What do you do? Let my Petticoat alone. I was ſtartled at firſt, but ſoon found that ſhe was in a Dream; being one of thoſe who, to uſe Shakeſpear's Expreſſion, are ſo looſe of Thought, that they utter in their Sleep every Thing that paſſes in their Imagination. I left the Apartment of this Female Rake, and went into her Neigh⯑bours, where there lay a Male-Coquet. He had a Bottle of Salts hanging over his Head, and upon the Table, by his Bed-ſide, Suckling's Poems, with a little Heap of Black Patches on it. His Snuff Box was within Reach on a Chair: But while I was admiring the Diſpoſition which he made of the ſeveral Parts of his Dreſs, his Slumber ſeemed interrupted by a Pang, that was accompanied by a ſudden Oath, as he turned himſelf over haſtily in his Bed. I did not care for ſeeing him in his nocturnal Pains, and left the Room.

I was no ſooner got into another Bed-Chamber, but I heard very harſh Words uttered in a ſmooth uniform Tone. I was amazed to hear ſo great a Volubility in Reproach, and thought it too cohe⯑rent to be ſpoken by one aſleep; but upon look⯑ing nearer, I ſaw the Head dreſs of the Perſon who ſpoke, which ſhewed her to be a Female with a Man lying by her Side broad awake, and as quiet as a Lamb. I could not but admire his exemplary Patience, and diſcovered by his whole Behaviour, that he was then lying under the Diſ⯑cipline of a Curtain-Lecture.

I was entertained in many other Places with this Kind of Nocturnal Eloquence, but obſerved, that moſt of thoſe whom I found awake, were [238] kept ſo either by Envy or by Love. Some of theſe were ſighing, and others curſing, in Soliloquy; ſome hugged their Pillows, and others gnaſhed their Teeth.

The Covetous I likewiſe found to be a very wakeful People. I happened to come into a Room where one of them lay ſick. His Phy⯑ſician and his Wife were in cloſe Whiſper near his Bed-ſide. I overheard the Doctor ſay to the poor Gentlewoman, he cannot poſſibly live till Five in the Morning. She received it like the Miſtreſs of a Family prepared for all Events. At the ſame Inſtant came in a Servant Maid, who ſaid, Madam, The Undertaker is below according to your Order. The Words were ſcarce out of her Mouth, when the ſick Man cried out with a fee⯑ble Voice, Pray, Doctor, how went Bank-Stock to Day at 'Change? This melancholy Object made me too ſerious for diverting my ſelf fur⯑ther this Way: But as I was going Home, I ſaw a Light in a Garret, and entering into it, heard a Voice crying, And, Hand, Stand, Band, Fann'd, Tann'd. I concluded him by this and the Furni⯑ture of his Room to be a Lunatick; but upon li⯑ſtening a little longer, perceived it was a Poet, writing an Heroick upon the enſuing Peace.

It was now towards Morning, an Hour when Spirits, Witches, and Conjurers are obliged to re⯑tire to their own Apartments, and feeling the In⯑fluence of it, I was haſtening Home, when I ſaw a Man had got half Way into a Neighbour's Houſe. I immediately called to him, and turn⯑ing my Ring, appeared in my proper Perſon. There is ſomething Magiſterial in the Aſpect of the Bickerſtaffs, which made him run away in Confuſion.

As I took a Turn or Two in my own Lodging, I was thinking, that, old as I was, I need not go to Bed alone, but that it was in my Power to marry the fineſt Lady in this Kingdom, if I [239] would wed her with this Ring. For what a Figure would ſhe that ſhould have it make a Viſit, with ſo perfect a Knowledge as this would give her of all the Scandal in the Town? But inſtead of en⯑deavouring to diſpoſe of my ſelf and it in Matri⯑mony, I reſolved to lend it to my loving Friend the Author of the Atalantis, to furniſh a new Secret Hiſtory of Secret Memoirs.

IT is no eaſy Matter when People are advancing in any Thing, to prevent their going too faſt for want of Patience. This happens in nothing more frequently than in the Proſecution of Stu⯑dies. Hence it is, that we meet Crowds who attempt to be eloquent before they can ſpeak. They affect the Flowers of Rhetorick before they underſtand the Parts of Speech. In the or⯑dinary Converſation of this Town, there are ſo many who can, as they call it, talk well, that there is not One in Twenty that talks to be un⯑derſtood. This proceeds from an Ambition to excel, or, as the Term is, to ſhine, in Company. The Matter is not to make themſelves under⯑ſtood, but admired. They come together with a certain Emulation, rather than Benevolence. When you fall among ſuch Companions, the ſafe Way is to give your ſelf up, and let the Orators declaim for your Eſteem, and trouble your ſelf [240] no further. It is ſaid, that a Poet muſt be born ſo; but I think it may be much better ſaid of an Orator, eſpecially when we talk of our Town-Poets and Orators; but the Town-Poets are full of Rules and Laws, the Town-Orators go thro' thick and thin, and are, forſooth. Perſons of ſuch eminent natural Parts and Knowledge of the World, that they deſpiſe all Men as unex⯑perienced Scholaſticks who wait for an Occaſion before they ſpeak, or who ſpeak no more than is neceſſary. They had half perſwaded me to go to the Tavern the other Night, but that a Gentle⯑man whiſpered me, Prithee, Iſaac, go with us; there is Tom Varniſh will be there, and he is a Fellow that talks as well as any Man in Eng⯑land.

I muſt confeſs, when a Man expreſſes himſelf well upon any Occaſion, and his falling into an Account of any Subject ariſes from a Deſire to oblige the Company, or from Fulneſs of the Cir⯑cumſtance it ſelf, ſo that his ſpeaking of it at large is occaſioned only by the Openneſs of a Companion; I ſay, in ſuch a Caſe as this, it is not only pardonable, but agreeable when a Man takes the Diſcourſe to himſelf; but when you ſee a Fellow watch for Opportunities for being Copious, it is exceſſively troubleſome. A Man that ſtammers, if he has Underſtanding, is to be attended with Patience and good Nature; but he that ſpeaks more than he need, has no Right to ſuch an Indulgence. The Man who has a De⯑fect in his Speech takes Pains to come to you, while a Man of a weak Capacity with Fluency of Speech triumphs in out-running you. The Stammerer ſtrives to be fit for your Company; the loquacious Man endeavours to ſhow you, you are not fit for his.

With Thoughts of this Kind do I always enter into that Man's Company who is recommended as a Perſon that talks well; but if I were to [241] chuſe the People with whom I would ſpend my Hours of Converſation, they ſhould be certain⯑ly ſuch as laboured no farther than to make themſelves readily and clearly apprehended, and would have Patience and Curioſity to underſtand me. To have good Senſe, and Ability to expreſs it, are the moſt eſſential and neceſſary Qualities in Companions. When Thoughts riſe in us fit to utter, among familiar Friends there needs but very little Care in cloathing them.

Urbanus is, I take it, a Man one might live with whole Years, and enjoy all the Freedom and Improvement imaginable, and yet be inſen⯑ſible of a Contradiction to you in all the Mi⯑ſtakes you can be guilty of. His great good Will to his Friends has produced in him ſuch a general Deference in his Diſcourſe, that if he differs from you in his Senſe of any Thing, he introduces his own Thoughts by ſome agreeable Circumlocution, or he has often obſerved ſuch and ſuch a Circumſtance that made him of ano⯑ther Opinion. Again, where another would be apt to ſay, This I am confident of, I may pretend to judge of this Matter as well as any Body; Urbanus ſays, I am verily perſwaded, I believe one may conclude. In a Word, there is no Man more clear in his Thoughts and Expreſſions than he is, or ſpeaks with greater Diffidence. You ſhall hardly find one Man of any Conſideration, but you ſhall obſerve one of leſs Conſequence form himſelf after him. This happens to Urba⯑nus; but the Man who ſteals from him almoſt every Sentiment he utters in a whole Week, diſ⯑guiſes the Theft, by carrying it with quite a dif⯑ferent Air. Umbratilis knows Urbanus's doubt⯑ful Way of Speaking proceeds from Good-Nature and Good-Breeding, and not from Uncertainty in his Opinions. Umbratilis therefore has no more to do but repeat the Thoughts of Urbanus in a poſitive Manner, and appear to the Undiſcern⯑ing [242] a wiſer Man than the Perſon from whom he borrows: But thoſe who know him, can ſee the Servant in his Maſter's Habit; and the more he ſtruts, the leſs do his Clothes appear his own.

In Converſation, the Medium is neither to af⯑fect Silence or Eloquence; not to value our Ap⯑probation, and to endeavour to excel us who are of your Company, are equal Inquiries. The great Enemies therefore to good Company, and thoſe who tranſgreſs moſt againſt the Laws of Equali⯑ty, (which is the Life of it) are, the Clown, the Wit, and the Pedant. A Clown, when he has Senſe, is conſcious of his Want of Education, and with an aukward Bluntneſs hopes to keep himſelf in Countenance, by overthrowing the Uſe of all polite Behaviour. He takes Advantage of the Reſtraint good Breeding lays upon others not to offend him to treſpaſs againſt them, and is under the Man's own Shelter while he intrudes upon him. The Fellows of this Claſs are very frequent in the Repetition of the Words, Rough and Manly. When theſe People happen to be by their Fortunes of the Rank of Gentlemen, they defend their other Abſurdities by an imper⯑tinent Courage; and to help out the Defect of their Behaviour, add their being dangerous to their being diſagreeable. This Gentleman (though he diſpleaſes, profeſſes to do ſo, and knowing that, dares ſtill go on to do ſo) is not ſo painful a Companion as he who will pleaſe you againſt your Will, and reſolves to be a Wit.

This Man upon all Occaſions, and whoever he falls in Company with, talks in the ſame Circle, and in the ſame Round of Chat which he has learned at one of the Tables of this Coffee-houſe. As Poetry is in it ſelf an Elevation above ordinary and common Sentiments, ſo there is no Fop is ſo very near a Mad-man in indifferent Company as a Poetical one. He is not apprehenſive that the [243] Generality of the World are intent upon the Bu⯑ſineſs of their own Fortune and Profeſſion, and have as little Capacity as Curioſity to enter into Matters of Ornament or Speculation. I remem⯑ber at a full Table in the City, one of theſe ubi⯑quitary Wits was entertaining the Company with a Soliloquy (for ſo I call it when a Man talks to thoſe who do not underſtand him) con⯑cerning Wit and Humour. An honeſt Gentle⯑man who ſate next to me, and was worth Half a Plumb, ſtared at him, and obſerving there was ſome Senſe as he thought, mixed with his Impertinence, whiſpered me, Take my Word for it, this Fellow is more Knave than Fool. This was all my good Friend's Applauſe of the wittieſt Man of Talk that I was ever preſent at, which wanted nothing to make it excellent but that there was no Occaſion for it.

The Pedant is ſo obvious to Ridicule, that it would be to be one to offer to explain him. He is a Gentleman ſo well known, that there is none but thoſe of his own Claſs who do not laugh at and avoid him. Pedantry proceeds from much Reading and little Underſtanding. A Pe⯑dant among Men of Learning and Senſe, is like an ignorant Servant giving an Account of a polite Converſation. You may find he has brought with him more than could have en⯑tered into his Head without being there, but ſtill that he is not a Bit wiſer than if he had not been there at all.

THE Lady hereafter mentioned having come to me in very great Haſt, and paid me much above the uſual Fee as a Cunning-Man to find her ſtolen Goods, and alſo having approved my late Diſcourſe of Advertiſements, obliged me to draw up this, and inſert it in the Body of my Paper.

WHen one conſiders the Turn which Con⯑verſation takes in almoſt every Set of Ac⯑quaintance, Club or Aſſembly, in this Town or Kingdom, one cannot but obſerve, that in ſpight of what I am every Day ſaying, and all the Mo⯑ral Writers ſince the Beginning of the World have ſaid, the Subject of Diſcourſe is generally upon one another's Faults. This in a great Meaſure proceeds from Self-Conceit, which were to be endured in one or other individual Perſon; but the Folly has ſpread it ſelf almoſt over all the Species; and one cannot only ſay, Tom, Jack, or Will, but in general, That Man is a Coxcomb. From this Source it is, that any Excellence is faintly received, any Imperfection unmercifully expoſed. But if Things were put in a true Light, and we would take Time to conſider that Man in his very Nature is an imperfect Being, our Senſe of this Matter would be immediately altered, and the Word Imperfection would not carry an unhinder Idea than the Word Humanity. It is a pleaſant Story, that we, forſooth, who are the only imperfect Creatures in the Univerſe, are the only Beings that will not allow of Imperfection. Some Body has taken Notice, that we ſtand in the Middle of Exiſtencies, and are by this one Circumſtance the moſt unhappy of all others. The Brutes are guided by Inſtinct, and know no [249] Sorrow; the Angels have Knowledge, and they are happy; but Men are govern'd by Opinion, which is I know not what Mixture of Inſtinct and Knowledge, and are neither indolent nor happy. It is very obſervable, that Criticks are a People between the Learned and the Ignorant, and by that Situation enjoy the Tranquility of neither. As Criticks ſtand among Men, ſo do Men in ge⯑neral between Brutes and Angels. Thus every Man as he is a Critick and a Coxcomb, till im⯑proved by Reaſon and Speculation, is ever for⯑getting himſelf, and laying open the Faults of others.

At the ſame Time that I am talking of the Cruelty of urging People's Faults with Severity, I cannot but bewail ſome which Men are guilty of for want of Admonition. Theſe are ſuch as they can eaſily mend, and no Body tells them of; for which Reaſon I ſhall make Uſe of the Penny-Poſt, (as I have with Succeſs to ſeveral young Ladies about turning their Eyes, and holding up their Heads) to certain Gentlemen whom I remark ha⯑bitually guilty of what they may reform in a Moment. There is a fat Fellow whom I have long remarked wearing his Breaſt open in the Midſt of Winter, out of an Affectation of Youth. I have therefore ſent him juſt now the following Letter in my Phyſical Capacity.

There is a very handſome well-ſhaped Youth that frequents the Coffee-houſes about Charing-Croſs, [250] and ties a very pretty Riband with a Croſs of Jewels at his Breaſt. This being ſomething new, and a Thing in which the Gentleman may offend the Heralds-Office, I have addreſſed my ſelf to him as I am Cenſor:

Theſe little Intimations do great Service, and are very uſeful, not only to the Perſons them⯑ſelves, but to inform others how to conduct them⯑ſelves towards them.

Inſtead of this honeſt private Method, or a Friendly one Face to Face, of acquainting People with Things in their Power to explain or amend, the uſual Way among People is to take no No⯑tice of Things you can help, and nevertheleſs expoſs you for thoſe you cannot.

Plumbeus and Levis are conſtantly in each others Company: They would, if they took pro⯑per Methods, be very agreeable Companions; but they ſo extravagantly aim at what they are unfit for, and each of them rallies the other ſo much in the wrong Place, that inſtead of doing each other the Offices of Friends, they do but in⯑ſtruct the reſt of the World to laugh at them with more Knowledge and Skill. Plumbeus is o [...] a ſaturnine and ſullen Complexion; Levis, of a mercurial and airy Diſpoſition. Both theſe Gen⯑tlemen have but very ſlow Parts, but would mak [...] a very good Figure, did they purſue what they ought. If Plumbeus would take to Buſineſs, h [...] [251] would in a fews Years know the Forms of Orders ſo well, as to direct and dictate with ſo much Eaſe, as to be thought a ſolid, able, and at the ſame Time, a ſure Man of Diſpatch. Levis, with a little Reading and coming more into Company, would ſoon be able to write a Song, or lead up a Country-Dance. Inſtead of theſe proper Pur⯑ſuits, in Obedience to their reſpective Genius's, Plumbeus endeavours to be the Man of Pleaſure, and Levis the Man of Buſineſs. This appears in their Speech, and in their Dreſs: Plumbeus is ever egregiouſly fine, and talking ſomething like Wit; Levis is ever extremely grave, and with a ſilly Face repeating Maxims. Theſe Two pardon each other for affecting what each is incapable of, the one to be wiſe, and the other gay; but are ex⯑tremely critical in their Judgments of each other in their Way towards what they pretend to, Plumbeus acknowledges Levis a Man of a great Reach, becauſe it is what Plumbeus never cared for being thought himſelf, and Levis allows Plumbeus to be an agreeable Rake for the ſame Reaſon. Now were theſe dear Friends to be free with each other as they ought to be, they would change Characters, and be both as commendable, inſtead of being as ridiculous, as their Capacities will admit of.

Were it not too grave, all that I would urge on this Subject is, that Men are bewildered when they conſider themſelves in any other View than that of Strangers, who are in a Place where it is no great Matter whether they can, or unreaſona⯑ble to expect they ſhould, have every Thing about them as well as at their own Home. This Way of Thinking is, perhaps, the only one that can put this Being into a proper Poſture for the Eaſe of Society. It is certain, this would reduce all Faults into thoſe which proceed from Malice or Diſhoneſty: It would quite change our Manner of beholding one another, and nothing that was [252] not below a Man's Nature would be below his Character. The Arts of this Life would be pro⯑per Advances towards the next; and a very good Man would be a very fine Gentleman. As it now is, Humane Life is inverted, and we have not learned half the Knowledge of this World before we are dropping into another. Thus, inſtead of the Raptures and Contemplations which natural⯑ly attend a well-ſpent Life from the Approach of Eternity, even we old Fellows are afraid of the Ridicule of thoſe who are born ſince us, and aſhamed not to underſtand, as well as peeviſh to reſign, the Mode, the Faſhion, the Ladies, the Fiddles, the Balls, and what not. Dick Reptile, who does not want Humour, is very pleaſant at our Club when he ſees an old Fellow touchy at being laughed at for any Thing that is not in the Mode, and bawls in his Ear, Prithee don't mind him; tell him thou art mortal.

MY Brother having written the above Piece of Latin, deſired me to take Care of the reſt of the enſuing Paper. Towards this he bid me anſwer the following Letter, and ſaid, No⯑thing I could write properly on the Subject of it would be diſagreeable to the Motto. It is the Cauſe of my Sex, and I therefore enter upon it [253] with great Alacrity. The Epiſtle is literally thus:

I have heard it often argued in Converſation, that this Evil Practice is owing to the perverted Taſt of the Wits in the laſt Generation. A Li⯑bertine on the Throne could very eaſily make the Language and the Faſhion turn his own Way. Hence it is, that Woman is treated as a Miſtreſs, and not a Wife. It is from the Writings of thoſe Times, and the traditional Accounts of the De⯑bauches of their Men of Pleaſure, that the Cox⯑combs now-a-days take upon them, forſooth, to be falſe Swains and perjured Lovers. Methinks I feel all the Woman riſe in me, when I reflect upon the nauſeous Rogues that pretend to deceive us. Wretches, that can never have it in their Power to over-reach any Thing living but their Miſtreſſes! In the Name of Goodneſs, if we are deſigned by Nature as ſuitable Companions to the other Sex, Why are we not treated accordingly? If we have Merit, as ſome allow, Why is it not as baſe in Men to injure us as one another? If we are the Inſignificants that others call us, Where is [256] the Triumph in deceiving us? But when I look at the Bottom of this Diſaſter, and recollect the many of my Acquaintance whom I have known in the ſame Condition with the Northern Laſs that occaſions this Diſcourſe, I muſt own I have ever found the Perfidiouſneſs of Men has been ge⯑nerally owing to ourſelves, and we have contri⯑buted to our own Deceit. The Truth is, we do not conduct our ſelves as we are courted, but as we are inclined. When we let our Imaginations take this unbridled Swing, it is not he that acts beſt is moſt lovely, but he that is moſt lovely acts beſt. When our humble Servants make their Ad⯑dreſſes, we do not keep our ſelves enough diſinga⯑ged to be Judges of their Merit; and we ſeldom give our Judgment of our Lover, till we have loſt our Judgment of him.

While Clarinda was paſſionately attended and addreſſed to by Strephon, who is a Man of Senſe and Knowledge in the World; and Caſſio, who has a plentiful Fortune and an excellent Underſtand⯑ing, ſhe fell in Love with Damon at a Ball: From that Moment ſhe that was before the moſt rea⯑ſonable Creature of all my Acquaintance, cannot hear Strephon ſpeak, but it is ſomething ſo out of the Way of Ladies Converſation: And Caſſio has ne⯑ver ſince opened his Mouth before us, but ſhe whiſpers me, How ſeldom do Riches and Senſe go together? The Iſſue of all this is, that for the Love of Damon, who has neither Experience, Underſtanding, or Wealth, ſhe deſpiſes thoſe Ad⯑vantages in the other Two which ſhe finds want⯑ing in her Lover; or elſe thinks he has them for no Reaſon but becauſe he is her Lover. This and many other Inſtances may be given in this Town; but I hope thus much may ſuffice to prevent the Growth of ſuch Evils at Edinburgh.

IT may perhaps appear ridiculous; but I muſt confeſs, this laſt Summer as I was riding in Enfield Chaſe, I met a young Lady whom I could hardly get out of my Head, and for ought I know my Heart, ever ſince. She was mounted on a Pad, with a very well-fancied Furniture. She ſate her Horſe with a very graceful Air; and when I ſaluted her with my Hat, ſhe bowed to me ſo obligingly, that whether it was her Civility or Beauty that touched me ſo much, I know not, but I am ſure I ſhall never forget her. She dwells in my Imagination in a Figure ſo much to her Advantage, that if I were to draw a Picture of Youth, Health, Beauty, or Modeſty, I ſhould re⯑preſent any or all of them in the Perſon of that young Woman.

I do not find that there are any Deſcriptions in the ancient Poets ſo beautiful as thoſe they draw of Nymphs in their Paſtoral Dreſſes and Exerciſes. Virgil gives Venus the Habit of a Spartan Hun⯑treſs when ſhe is to put Aeneas in his Way, and relieve his Cares with the moſt agreeable Object imaginable. Diana and her Train are always deſcribed as Inhabitants of the Woods, and Fol⯑lowers of the Chaſe. To be well diverted, is the ſafeſt Guard to Innocence; and, methinks, it [258] ſhould be one of the firſt Things to be regarded among People of Condition to find out proper Amuſements for young Ladies. I cannot but think this of Riding might eaſily be revived a⯑mong them, when they conſider how much it muſt contribute to their Beauty. This would lay up the beſt Portion they could bring into a Fami⯑ly, a good Stock of Health, to tranſmit to their Poſterity. Such a charming Bloom as this gives the Countenance, is very much preferable to the real or affected Feebleneſs or Softneſs, which ap⯑pear in the Faces of our modern Beauties.

The Comedy, called, The Ladies Cure, repre⯑ſents the Affectation of wan Looks and languid Glances to a very entertaining Extravagance. There is, as the Lady in the Play complains, ſomething ſo robuſt in perfect Health, that it is with her a Point of Breeding and Delicacy to ap⯑pear in publick with a ſickly Air. But the natu⯑ral Gaiety and Spirit which ſhine in the Com⯑plexion of ſuch as form to themſelves a Sort of diverting Induſtry by chuſing Recreations that are Exerciſes, ſurpaſs all the falſe Ornaments and Graces that can be put on by applying the whole Diſpenſary of a Toilet. An healthy Body and a chearful Mind give Charms as irreſiſtible as ini⯑mitable. The Beauteous Dictynna, who came to Town laſt Week, has from the conſtant Proſpect in a delicious Country, and the moderate Exer⯑ciſe and Journeys in the Viſits ſhe made round it, contracted a certain Life in her Countenance which will in vain employ both the Painters and Poets to repreſent. The becoming Negligence in her Dreſs, the ſevere Sweetneſs of her Looks, and a certain innocent Boldneſs in all her Behaviour, are the Effect of the active Recreations I am talk⯑ing of.

But inſtead of ſuch or any other as innocent and pleaſing Method of paſſing away their Time with Alacrity, we have many in Town who [259] ſpend their Hours in an indolent State of Body and Mind, without either Recreations or Re⯑flections. I am apt to believe, there are ſome Pa⯑rents imagine their Daughters will be accompliſh⯑ed enough, if nothing interrupts their Growth or their Shape. According to this Method of Education, I could name you Twenty Families, where all the Girls hear of in this Life is, That it is Time to riſe and to come to Dinner; as if they were ſo inſignificant as to be wholly pro⯑vided for when they are fed and cloathed.

It is with great Indignation that I ſee ſuch Crowds of the Female World loſt to humane So⯑ciety, and condemned to a Lazineſs, which makes Life paſs away with leſs Reliſh than in the hard⯑eſt Labour. Paleſtris in her Drawing-Room, is ſupported by Spirits to keep off the Returns of Spleen and Melancholy, before ſhe can get over half the Day for want of ſomething to do, while the Wench in the Kitchen ſings and ſcowrs from Morning to Night.

The next diſagreeable Thing to a lazy Lady, is a very buſy one. A Man of Buſineſs in good Company, who gives an Account of his Abilities and Diſpatches, is hardly more inſupportable than her they call a Notable Woman, and a Ma⯑nager. Lady Goodday, where I viſited the other Day at a very polite Circle, entertained a great Lady with a Recipe for a Poultice, and gave us to underſtand, that ſhe had done extraordinary Cures ſince ſhe was laſt in Town. It ſeems a Countryman had wounded himſelf with his Sithe as he was Mowing; and we were obliged to hear of her Charity, her Medicine, and her Humility, in the harſheſt Tone, and courſeſt Language ima⯑ginable.

What I would requeſt in all this Prattle is, that our Females would either let us have their Per⯑ſons or their Minds in ſuch Perfection as Nature deſigned them.

[260] The Way to this is, that thoſe who are in the Quality of Gentlewomen ſhould propoſe to them⯑ſelves ſome ſuitable Method of paſſing away their Time. This would furniſh them with Reflections and Sentiments proper for the Companions of reaſonable Men, and prevent the unnatural Mar⯑riages which happen every Day between the moſt accompliſhed Women, and the verieſt Oafs; the worthieſt Men, and the moſt inſignificant Females. Were the general Turn of Womens Education of another Kind than it is at preſent, we ſhould want one another for more Reaſons than we do as the World now goes. The common Deſign of Pa⯑rents is to get their Girls off as well as they can, and make no Conſcience of putting into our Hands a Bargain for our whole Life, which will make our Hearts ake every Day of it.

I ſhall therefore take this Matter into ſerious Conſideration, and will propoſe, for the better Improvement of the Fair Sex, a Female Library. This Collection of Books ſhall conſiſt of ſuch Authors as do not corrupt while they divert, but ſhall tend more immediately to improve them, as they are Women. They ſhall be ſuch as ſhall not hurt a Feature by the Auſterity of their Reflections, nor cauſe one impertinent Glance by the Wanton⯑neſs of them. They ſhall all tend to advance the Value of their Innocence as Virgins, improve their Underſtanding as Wives, and regulate their Ten⯑derneſs as Parents. It has been very often ſaid in theſe Lucubrations, that the Ideas which moſt frequently paſs through our Imaginations, leave Traces of themſelves in our Countenances. There ſhall be a ſtrict Regard had to this in my Female Library, which ſhall be furniſhed with nothing that ſhall give Supplies to Oſtentation or Imper⯑tinence, but the whole ſhall be ſo digeſted for the Uſe of my Students, that they ſhall not go out of Character in their Enquiries, but their Knowledge appear only a cultivated Innocence.

I Was laſt Night viſited by a Friend of mine who has an inexhauſtible Fund of Diſcourſe, and never fails to entertain his Company with a Variety of Thoughts and Hints that are altogether new and uncommon. Whether it were in Com⯑plaiſance to my Way of Living, or his real Opi⯑nion, he advanced the following Paradox, That it required much greater Talents to fill up and become a retired Life, than a Life of Buſineſs. Upon this Occaſion he rallied very agreeably the buſie Men of the Age, who only valued them⯑ſelves of being in Motion, and paſſing through a Series of trifling and inſignificant Actions. In the Heat of his Diſcourſe, ſeeing a Piece of Money lying on my Table, I defie (ſays he) any of theſe active Perſons to produce half the Adventures that this Twelvepenny-Piece has been engaged in, were it poſſible for him to give us an Account of his Life.

My Friend's Talk made ſo odd an Impreſſion upon my Mind, that ſoon after I was a-Bed I fell inſenſibly into a moſt unaccountable Reſverie, that had neither Moral nor Deſign in it, and can⯑not be ſo properly called a Dream as a Delirium.

Methoughts the Shilling that lay upon the Ta⯑ble reared it ſelf upon its Edge, and turning the Face towards me, opened its Mouth, and in a ſoft [262] Silver Sound gave me the following Account of his Life and Adventures:

I was born, ſays he, on the Side of a Mountain, near a little Village of Peru, and made a Voyage to England in an Ingot, under the Convoy of Sir Francis Drake. I was, ſoon after my Arri⯑val, taken out of my Indian Habit, refined, na⯑turalized, and put into the Britiſh Mode, with the Face of Queen Elizabeth on one Side, and the Arms of the Country on the other. Being thus equipped, I found in me a wonderful Inclination to ramble, and viſit all the Parts of the new World into which I was brought. The People very much favoured my natural Diſpoſition, and ſhifted me ſo faſt from Hand to Hand, that before I was Five Years old, I had travelled into almoſt every Corner of the Nation. But in the Begin⯑ning of my Sixth Year, to my unſpeakable Grief, I fell into the Hands of a miſerable old Fellow, who clapped me into an Iron Cheſt, where I found Five Hundred more of my own Quality who lay under the ſame Confinement. The only Relief we had, was to be taken out and counted over in the freſh Air every Morning and Evening. After an Impriſonment of ſeveral Years, we heard ſome Body knocking at our Cheſt, and breaking it open with an Hammer. This we found was the old Man's Heir, who, as his Father lay a dy⯑ing, was ſo good as to come to our Releaſe: He ſeparated us that very Day. What was the Fate of my Companions, I know not: As for my ſelf, I was ſent to the Apothecary's Shop for a Pint of Sack. The Apothecary gave me to an Herb-Wo⯑man, the Herb-Woman to a Butcher, the Butcher to a Brewer, and the Brewer to his Wife, who made a Preſent of me to a Nonconformiſt Prea⯑cher. After this Manner I made my Way merri⯑ly through the World; for, as I told you before, we Shillings love nothing ſo much as travelling. I ſometimes fetched in a Shoulder of Mutton [263] ſometimes a Play-Book, and often had the Satiſ⯑faction to treat a Templer at a Twelvepenny Or⯑dinary, or carry him with Three Friends to Weſt⯑minſter-Hall.

In the Midſt of this pleaſant Progreſs which I made from Place to Place, I was arreſted by a ſu⯑perſtitious old Woman, who ſhut me up in a greazy Purſe, in Purſuance of a fooliſh Saying, That while ſhe kept a Queen Elizabeth's Shilling about her, ſhe ſhould never be without Money. I continued here a cloſe Priſoner for many Months, till at laſt I was exchanged for Eight and Forty Farthings.

I thus rambled from Pocket to Pocket till the Beginning of the Civil Wars, when (to my Shame be it ſpoken) I was employed in raiſing Soldiers againſt the King: For being of a very tempting Breadth, a Serjeant made Uſe of me to inveigle Country Fellows, and liſt them in the Service of the Parliament.

As ſoon as he had made one Man ſure, his Way was to oblige him to take a Shilling of a more homely Figure, and then practiſe the ſame Trick upon another. Thus I continued doing great Miſchief to the Crown, till my Officer chancing one Morning to walk Abroad earlier than ordina⯑ry, ſacrificed me to his Pleaſures, and made Uſe of me to ſeduce a Milk-Maid. This Wench bent me, and gave me to her Sweetheart, applying more properly than ſhe intended the uſual Form of, To my Love and from my Love. This unge⯑nerous Gallant marrying her within few Days after, pawned me for a Dram of Brandy, and drinking me out next Day, I was beaten flat with an Hammer, and again ſet a running.

After many Adventures, which it would be te⯑dious to relate, I was ſent to a young Spendthrift, in Company with the Will of his deceaſed Fa⯑ther. The young Fellow, who I found was very extravagant, gave great Demonſtrations of Joy at [264] the Receiving the Will; but opening it, he found himſelf diſinherited and cut off from the Poſſeſ⯑ſion of a fair Eſtate, by Vertue of my being made a Preſent to him. This put him into ſuch a Paſ⯑ſion, that after having taken me in his Hand, and curſed me, he ſquirred me away from him as far as he could fling me. I chanced to light in an unfrequented Place under a dead Wall, where I lay undiſcovered and uſeleſs, during the Uſurpa⯑tion of Oliver Cromwell.

About a Year after the King's Return, a poor Cavalier that was walking there about Dinner⯑time fortunately caſt his Eye upon me, and, to the great Joy of us both, carried me to a Cook's-Shop, where he dined upon me, and drank the King's Health. When I came again into the World, I found that I had been happier in my Retirement than I thought, having probably by that Means eſcaped wearing a monſtrous Pair of Breeches.

Being now of great Credit and Antiquity, I was rather looked upon as a Medal than an ordi⯑nary Coin; for which Reaſon a Gameſter laid hold of me, and converted me into a Counter, ha⯑ving got together ſome Dozens of us for that Uſe. We led a melancholy Life in his Poſſeſſion, being buſy at thoſe Hours wherein Current Coin is at reſt, and partaking the Fate of our Maſter, being in a few Moments valued at a Crown, a Pound, or a Sixpence, according to the Situation in which the Fortune of the Cards placed us. I had at length the good Luck to ſee my Maſter break, by which Means I was again ſent Abroad under my primitive Denomination of a Shil⯑ling.

I ſhall paſs over many other Accidents of leſs Moment, and haſten to that fatal Cataſtrophe when I fell into the Hands of an Artiſt who con⯑veyed me under Ground, and with an unmerciful Pair of Sheers cut off my Titles, clipped my [265] Brims, retrenched my Shape, rubbed me to my inmoſt Ring, and, in ſhort, ſo ſpoiled and pillaged me, that he did not leave me worth a Groat. You may think what a Confuſion I was in to ſee my ſelf thus curtailed and disfigured. I ſhould have been aſhamed to have ſhown my Head, had not all my old Acquaintance been reduced to the ſame ſhameful Figure, excepting ſome few that were punched through the Belly. In the midſt of this general Calamity, when every Body thought our Misfortune irretrievable, and our Caſe deſperate, we were thrown into the Furnace together, and (as it often happens with Cities ri⯑ſing out of a Fire) appeared with greater Beauty and Luſtre than we could ever boaſt of before. What has happened to me ſince this Change of Sex which you now ſee, I ſhall take ſome other Opportunity to relate. In the mean Time I ſhall only repeat Two Adventures, as being very ex⯑traordinary, and neither of them having ever happened to me above once in my Life. The Firſt was, my being in a Poet's Pocket, who was ſo taken with the Brightneſs and Novelty of my Appearance, that it gave Occaſion to the fineſt Burleſque Poem in the Britiſh Language, entitu⯑ed from me, The Splendid Shilling. The Second Adventure, which I muſt not omit, happened to me in the Year 1703, when I was given away in Charity to a blind Man; but indeed this was by [...] Miſtake, the Perſon who gave me having heed⯑ [...]eſly thrown me into the Hat among a Penny⯑ [...]orth of Farthings.

I Laſt Winter erected a Court of Juſtice for the correcting of ſeveral Enormities in Dreſs and Behaviour, which are not cognizable in any other Courts of this Realm. The Vintner's Caſe which I there tryed is ſtill freſh in every Man's Memo⯑ry. That of the Petticoat gave alſo a general Satisfaction, not to mention the more important Points of the Cane and Perſpective; in which, if I did not give Judgments and Decrees according to the ſtricteſt Rules of Equity and Juſtice, I can ſafely ſay, I acted according to the beſt of my Underſtanding. But as for the Proceedings of that Court, I ſhall refer my Reader to an Ac⯑count of them, written by my Secretary, which is now in the Preſs, and will ſhortly be publiſhed under the Title of Lillie's Reports.

As I laſt Year preſided over a Court of Juſtice, it is my intention this Year to ſet my ſelf at the Head of a Court of Honour. There is no Court o [...] this Nature any where at preſent, except in France, where, according to the beſt of my in⯑telligence, it conſiſts of ſuch only as are Marſhals of that Kingdom. I am likewiſe informed, that there is not one of that honourable Board at pre⯑ſent who has not been driven out of the Field by the Duke of Marlborough: But whether this be only an accidental or a neceſſary Qualification, I muſt confeſs I am not able to determine.

[267] As for the Court of Honour of which I am here ſpeaking, I intend to ſit my ſelf in it as Pre⯑ſident, with ſeveral Men of Honour on my Right Hand, and Women of Virtue on my Left, as my Aſſiſtants. The Firſt Place of the Bench I have given to an old Tangereen Captain with a Wooden Leg. The Second is a Gentleman of a long twiſted Periwig without a Curl in it, a Muff with very little Hair upon it, and a Thread-bare Coat with new Buttons, being a Perſon of great Worth, and Second Brother to a Man of Quali⯑ty. The Third is a Gentleman-Uſher, extreamly well read in Romances, and Grandſon to one of the greateſt Wits in Germany, who was ſome Time Maſter of the Ceremonies to the Duke of Wolfembuttel.

As for thoſe who ſit further on my Right Hand, as it is uſual in publick Courts, they are ſuch as will fill up the Number of Faces up⯑on the Bench, and ſerve rather for Ornament than Uſe.

The chief upon my Left Hand are, an old Mai⯑den Lady, that preſerves ſome of the beſt Blood of England in her Veins.

A Welſh Woman of a little Stature, but high Spirit.

An old Prude that has cenſured every Marriage for theſe Thirty Years, and is lately wedded to a young Rake.

Having thus furniſhed my Bench, I ſhall eſta⯑bliſh Correſpondencies with the Horſe-Guards, and the Veterans of Chelſea College; the former to furniſh me with Twelve Men of Honour as often as I ſhall have Occaſion for a Grand Jury, and the latter with as many good Men and true for a Petty Jury.

As for the Women of Virtue, it will not be difficult for me to find them about Midnight at Crimp and Baſſet.

[268] Having given this publick Notice of my Court, I muſt further add, that I intend to open it on this Day Sevennight, being Monday the Twen⯑tieth Inſtant; and do hereby invite all ſuch as have ſuffered Injuries and Aſtronts, that are not to be redreſſed by the common Laws of this Land, whether they be ſhort Bows, cold Saluta⯑tions, ſupercilious Looks, unreturned Smiles, di⯑ſtant Behaviour, or forced Familiarity; as alſo all ſuch as have been aggrieved by any ambiguous Expreſſion, accidental Juſtle, or unkind Repartee; likewiſe all ſuch as have been defrauded of their Right to the Wall, tricked out of the upper End of the Table, or have been ſuffered to place them⯑ſelves in their own Wrong on the Back-Seat of the Coach: Theſe, and all of theſe, I do, as I above ſaid, invite to bring in their ſeveral Caſes and Complaints, in which they ſhall be relieved with all imaginable Expedition.

I am very ſenſible, that the Office I have now taken upon me will engage me in the Diſquiſi⯑tion of many weighty Points that daily perplex the Youth of the Britiſh Nation, and therefore I have already diſcuſſed ſeveral of them for my fu⯑ture Uſe; as, How far a Man may brandiſh his Cane in the telling a Story, without inſulting his Hearer? What Degree of Contradiction amounts to the Lye? How a Man ſhould reſent another's ſtaring and cocking a Hat in his Face? If asking Pardon is an Attonement for treading upon ones Toes? Whether a Man may put up a Box on the Ear received from a Stranger in the Dark? Or, Whether a Man of Honour may take a Blow of his Wife? With ſeveral other Subtilties of the like Nature.

For my Direction in the Duties of my Office, I have furniſhed my ſelf with a certain Aſtrologi⯑cal Pair of Scales which I have contrived for this Purpoſe. In one of them I lay the Injuries, in the other the Reparations. The firſt are repre⯑ſented [269] by little Weights made of a Metal reſem⯑bling Iron, and the other in Gold. Theſe are not only lighter than the Weights made uſe of in Averdupois, but alſo than ſuch as are uſed in Troy-Weight. The heavieſt of thoſe that repre⯑ſent the Injuries amount but to a Scruple; and decreaſe by ſo many Sub-diviſions, that there are ſeveral imperceptible Weights which cannot be ſeen without the Help of a very fine Microſcope. I might acquaint my Reader, that theſe Scales were made under the Influence of the Sun when he was in Libra, and deſcribe many Signatures on the Weights both of Injury and Reparation: But as this would look rather to proceed from an Oſtentation of my own Art than any Care for the Publick, I ſhall paſs it over in Silence.

IT is neceſſary to an eaſy and happy Life, to poſſeſs our Minds in ſuch a Manner as to be always well ſatisfied with our own Reflections. [270] The Way to this State, is to meaſure our Actions by our own Opinion, and not by that of the reſt of the World. The Senſe of other Men ought to prevail over us in Things of leſs Conſideration, but not in Concerns where Truth and Honour are engaged. When we look into the Bottom of Things, what at firſt appears a Paradox, is a plain Truth; and thoſe Profeſſions which, for Want of being duly weighed, ſeem to proceed from a Sort of Romantick Philoſophy, and Ignorance of the World, after a little Reflection are ſo reaſonable, that it is direct Madneſs to walk by any other Rules. Thus to contradict our Deſires, and to conquer the Impulſes of our Ambition, if they do not fall in with what we in our inward Senti⯑ments approve, is ſo much our Intereſt, and ſo abſolutely neceſſary to our real Happineſs, that to contemn all the Wealth and Power in the World, where they ſtand in Competition with a Man's Honour, is rather good Senſe than Greatneſs of Mind.

Did we conſider that the Mind of a Man is the Man himſelf, we ſhould think it the moſt unna⯑tural Sort of Self-Murther to ſacrifice the Senti⯑ment of the Soul to gratify the Appetites of the Body. Bleſs us! Is it poſſible, that when the Neceſſities of Life are ſupplied, a Man would flatter to be rich, or circumvent to be powerful? When we meet a poor Wretch urged with Hun⯑ger and Cold asking an Alms, we are apt to think this a State we could rather ſtarve than ſubmit to: But yet how much more deſpicable is his Condition who is above Neceſſity, and yet ſhall reſign his Reaſon and his Integrity to purchaſe Superfluities? Theſe are both abject and common Beggars; but ſure it is leſs deſpicable to beg a Supply to a Man's Hunger than his Vanity. But Cuſtom and general Prepoſſeſſions have ſo far prevailed over an unthinking World, that thoſe neceſſitous Creatures who cannot reliſh Life [271] without Applauſe, Attendance, and Equipage, are ſo far from making a contemptible Figure, that diſtreſſed Virtue is leſs eſteemed than ſuc⯑ceſsful Vice. But if a Man's Appeal in Caſes that regarded his Honour were made to his own Soul, there would be a Bafis and ſtanding Rule for our Conduct, and we ſhould always endeavour ra⯑ther to be than appear honourable. Mr. Collier, in his Eſſay on Fortitude, has treated this Subject with great Wit and Magnanimity. What (ſays he) can be more honourable than to have Courage enough to execute the Commands of Reaſon and Con⯑ſcience; to maintain the Dignity of our Nature, and the Station aſſigned us? To be Proof againſt Poverty, Pain, and Death it ſelf? I mean ſo far as not to do any Thing that's ſcandalous or ſinful to avoid them? To ſtand Adverſity under all Shapes with Decency and Reſolution? To do this, is to be great above Title and Fortune. This argues the Soul of an Heavenly Extraction, and is worthy the Offspring of the Deity.

What a generous Ambition has this Man point⯑ed to us? When Men have ſettled in themſelves a Conviction by ſuch noble Precepts, that there is nothing honourable that is not accompanied with Innocence; nothing mean but what has Guilt in it; I ſay, when they have attained thus much, though Poverty, Pain, and Death, may ſtill retain their Terrors, yet Riches, Pleaſures, and Honours, will eaſily loſe their Charms, if they ſtand between us and our Integrity.

What is here ſaid with Alluſion to Fortune and Fame, may as juſtly be applied to Wit and Beau⯑ty; for theſe latter are as adventitious as the o⯑ther, and as little concern the Eſſence of the Soul. They are all laudable in the Man who poſ⯑ſeſſes them only for the juſt Application of them. A bright Imagination, while it is ſubſervient to an honeſt and noble Soul, is a Faculty which makes a Man juſtly admired by Mankind, and [272] furniſhes him with Reflections upon his own Actions, which add Delicates to the Feaſt of a good Conſcience: But when Wit deſcends to wait upon ſenſual Pleaſures, or promote the baſe Purpoſes of Ambition, it is then to be contemned in Proportion to its Excellence. If a Man will not reſolve to place the Foundation of his Happi⯑neſs in his own Mind, Life is a bewildered and unhappy State, incapable of Reſt or Tranquillity: For to ſuch a one the general Applauſe of Valour, Wit, nay of Honeſty it ſelf, can give him but a very feeble Comfort, ſince it is capable of being interrupted by any one who wants either Under⯑ſtanding or Good-nature to ſee or acknowledge ſuch Excellencies. This Rule is ſo neceſſary, that one may very ſafely ſay, it is impoſſible to know any true Reliſh of our Being without it. Look about you in common Life among the ordinary Race of Mankind, and you will find Merit in every Kind is allowed only to thoſe who are in particular Diſtricts or Sets of Company: But ſince Men can have little Pleaſure in theſe Facul⯑ties which denominate them Perſons of Diſtin⯑ction, let them give up ſuch an empty Purſuit, and think nothing eſſential to Happineſs but what is in their own Power, the Capacity of reflecting with Pleaſure on their own Actions, however they are interpreted.

It is ſo evident a Truth, that it is only in our own Boſoms we are to ſearch for any Thing to make us happy, that it is, methinks, a Diſ⯑grace to our Nature to talk of the taking our Meaſures from thence only as a Matter of For⯑titude. When all is well there, the Viciſſitudes and Diſtinctions of Life are the meer Scenes of a Drama, and he will never act his Part well who has his Thoughts more fixed upon the Applauſe of the Audience than the Deſign of his Part.

[273] The Life of a Man who acts with a ſteady Inte⯑grity, without valuing the Interpretation of his Actions, has but one uniform regular Path to move in, where he cannot meet Oppoſition, or fear Am⯑buſcade. On the other Side, the leaſt Deviation from the Rules of Honour introduces a Train of numberleſs Evils, and involves him in inexplica⯑ble Mazes. He that has entred into Guilt has bid Adieu to Reſt, and every Criminal has his Share of the Miſery expreſſed ſo emphatically in the Tra⯑gedian;

It was with Deteſtation of any other Grandeur but the calm Command of his own Paſſion, that the excellent Mr. Cowley cries out with ſo much Juſtice;

THE following Letter, and ſeveral others to the ſame Purpoſe, accuſe me of a Rigour of which I am far from being guilty, to wit, the diſallowing the chearful Uſe of Wine.

Whatever has been ſaid againſt the Uſe of Wine, upon the Suppoſition that it enfeebles the Mind, and renders it unfit for the Duties of Life, bears forcibly to the Advantage of that delicious Juice, in Caſes where it only heightens Converſation, and brings to Light agreeable Talents, which otherwiſe would have lain concealed under the [276] Oppreſſion of an unjuſt Modeſty. I muſt acknow⯑ledge I have ſeen many of the Temper mentioned by this Correſpondent, and own, Wine may very allowably be uſed in a Degree above the Supply of meer Neceſſity by ſuch as labour under Melan⯑choly, or are Tongue-ty'd by Modeſty. It is cer⯑tainly a very agreeable Change, when we ſee a Glaſs raiſe a lifeleſs Converſation into all the Pleaſures of Wit and good Humour. But when Caska adds to his natural Impudence the Fluſter of a Bottle, that which Fools called Fire when he was ſober, all Men abhor as Outrage when he is drunk. Thus he that in the Morning was only ſaucy, is in the Evening tumultuous. It makes one ſick to hear one of theſe Fellows ſay, They love a Friend and a Bottle. Noiſy Mirth has ſomething too ruſtick in it to be conſidered with⯑out Terror by Men of Politeneſs: But while the Diſcourſe improves in a well choſen Company, from the Addition of Spirits which flow from moderate Cups, it muſt be acknowledged, that Leiſure Time cannot be more agreeably, or per⯑haps more uſefully employed than at ſuch Meet⯑ings: But there is a certain Prudence in this and all other Circumſtances which makes Right or Wrong in the Conduct of ordinary Life. Sir Jeof⯑frey Wildacre has nothing ſo much at Heart as that his Son ſhould know the World betimes: For this End he introduces him among the Sots of his own Age, where the Boy learns to laugh at his Father from the Familiarity with which he ſees him treated by his Equals. This the old Fellow calls Living well with his Heir, and teaching him to be too much his Friend to be impatient for his Eſtate. But for the more exact Regulation of Society in this and other Matters, I ſhall publiſh Tables of the Characters and Relations among Men, and by them inſtruct the Town in making Sets and Companies for a Bottle. This Humour [277] of Sir Jeoffrey ſhall be taken Notice of in the firſt Place; for there is, methinks, a Sort of Inceſt in Drunkenneſs, and Sons are not to behold Fathers ſtripped of all Reverence.

It is ſhocking in Nature for the Young, to ſee thoſe whom they ſhould have an Awe for in Cir⯑cumſtances of Contempt. I ſhall therefore utter⯑ly forbid, that thoſe in whom Nature ſhould ad⯑moniſh to avoid too groſs Familiarities, ſhall be received in Parties of Pleaſure where there is the leaſt Danger of Exceſs. I ſhould run through the whole Doctrine of Drinking, but that my Thoughts are at preſent too much employed in the Model⯑ling my Court of Honour; and altering the Seats, Benches, Bar, and Canopy from that of the Court wherein I laſt Winter ſate upon Cauſes of leſs Mo⯑ment. By the Way I ſhall take an Opportunity to examine, what Method is to be taken to make Joiners and other Artificers get out of a Houſe they have once entered, not forgetting to tie them under proper Regulations. It is for Want of ſuch Rules, that I have a Day or two longer than I expected been tormented and deafened with Ham⯑mers, inſomuch that I neither can purſue this Diſcourſe, or anſwer the following and many other Letters of the higheſt Importance.

Extract of the Journal of the Court of Honour, 1710.

THE Court being ſat, an Oath prepared by the Cenſor was adminiſtred to the Aſſiſtants on his Right Hand, who were all ſworn upon their Honour. The Women on his Left Hand took the ſame Oath upon their Reputation. Twelve Gentlemen of the Horſe-Guards were im⯑pannelled, having unanimouſly choſen Mr. Alexan⯑der Truncheon, who is their Right-Hand Man in the Troop, for their Foreman in the Jury. Mr. Truncheon immediately drew his Sword, and holding it with the Point towards his own Body, preſented it to the Cenſor. Mr. Bickerſtaff recei⯑ved it, and after having ſurveyed the Breadth of the Blade, and Sharpneſs of the Point, with more [279] than ordinary Attention, returned it to the Fore⯑man in a very graceful Manner. The reſt of the Jury, upon the Delivery of the Sword to their Foreman, drew all of them together as one Man, and ſaluted the Bench with ſuch an Air, as ſigni⯑fied the moſt reſigned Submiſſion to thoſe who commanded them, and the greateſt Magnanimity to execute what they ſhould command.

Mr. Bickerſtaff, after having received the Com⯑pliments on his Right Hand, caſt his Eye upon the Left, where the whole Female Jury paid their Reſpects by a low Courteſie, and by laying their Hands upon their Mouths. Their Forewoman was a profeſſed Platoniſt, that had ſpent much of her Time in exhorting the Sex to ſet a juſt Value upon their Perſons, and to make the Men know them⯑ſelves.

There followed a profound Silence, when at length, after ſome Recollection, the Cenſor, who continued hitherto uncovered, put on his Hat with great Dignity; and after having compoſed the Brims of it in a Manner ſuitable to the Gravi⯑ty of his Character, he gave the following Charge, which was received with Silence and Attention, that being the only Applauſe which he admits of, or is ever given in his Preſence.

THere are no Books which I more delight in than in Travels, eſpecially thoſe that deſcribe remote Countries, and give the Writer an Oppor⯑tunity of ſhowing his Parts without incurring any Danger of being examined or contradicted. Among all the Authors of this Kind, our re⯑nowned Countryman Sir John Mandeville has di⯑ſtinguiſhed himſelf, by the Copiouſneſs of his Invention, and Greatneſs of his Genius. The Second to Sir John I take to have been Ferdinand Mendez Pinto, a Perſon of infinite Adventure, and unbounded Imagination. One reads the Voyages of theſe Two great Wits with as much Aſtoniſhment as the Travels of Ulyſſes in Homer, or of the Red Croſs Knight in Spencer. All is En⯑chanted Ground, and Fairy Land.

I have got into my Hands by great Chance ſe⯑veral Manuſcripts of theſe Two eminent Authors, which are filled with greater Wonders than any of thoſe they have communicated to the Publick; and indeed, were they not ſo well atteſted, would appear altogether improbable. I am apt to think, the ingenious Authors did not publiſh them with the reſt of their Works, leſt they ſhould paſs for Fictions and Fables: A Caution not unneceſſary, when the Reputation of their Veracity was not yet eſtabliſhed in the World. But as this Reaſon has now no further Weight. [284] I ſhall make the Publick a Preſent of theſe curious Pieces at ſuch Times as I ſhall find my ſelf un⯑provided with other Subjects.

The preſent Paper I intend to fill with an Ex⯑tract of Sir John's Journal, in which that learned and worthy Knight gives an Account of the Freezing and Thawing of ſeveral ſhort Speeches which he made in the Territories of Nova Zem⯑bla. I need not inform my Reader, that the Au⯑thor of Hudibras alludes to this ſtrange Quality in that cold Climate, when, ſpeaking of abſtra⯑cted Notions cloathed in a viſible Shape, he adds that apt Simile,

Not to keep my Reader any longer in Suſpence, the Relation put into modern Language is as fol⯑lows:

We were ſeparated by a Storm in the Latitude of 73, inſomuch that only the Ship which I was in, with a Dutch and a French Veſſel, got ſafe into a Creek of Nova Zembla. We landed, in order to reſit our Veſſels, and ſtore our ſelves with Proviſions. The Crew of each Veſſel made themſelves a Cabbin of Turf and Wood, at ſome Diſtance from each other, to fence themſelves a⯑gainſt the Inclemencies of the Weather, which was ſevere beyond Imagination. We ſoon ob⯑ſerved, that in talking to one another we loſt ſe⯑veral of our Words, and could not hear one ano⯑ther at above Two Yards Diſtance, and that too when we ſat very near the Fire. After much Perplexity, I found that our Words froze in the Air before they could reach the Ears of the Per⯑ſon to whom they were ſpoken. I was ſoon con⯑firmed in this Conjecture, when, upon the Increaſe of the Cold, the whole Company grew dumb, or rather deaf; for every Man was ſenſible, as we afterwards found, that he ſpoke as well as ever; but the Sounds no ſooner took Air, than [285] they were condenſed and loſt. It was now a miſerable Spectacle to ſee us nodding and gaping at one another, every Man talking, and no Man heard. One might obſerve a Seaman, that could hail a Ship at a League diſtance, beckoning with his Hands, ſtraining his Lungs, and tearing his Throat, but all in vain.

We continued here Three Weeks in this diſmal Plight. At length, upon a Turn of Wind, the Air about us began to thaw. Our Cabbin was immediately filled with a dry clattering Sound, which I afterwards found to be the Crackling of Conſonants that broke above our Heads, and were often mixed with a gentle Hiſſing, which I imputed to the Letter S, that occurs ſo fre⯑quently in the Engliſh Tongue. I ſoon after felt a Breeze of Whiſpers ruſhing by my Ear; for thoſe being of a ſoft and gentle Subſtance, im⯑mediately liquefied in the warm Wind that blew acroſs our Cabbin. Theſe were ſoon followed by Syllables and ſhort Words, and at length by entire Sentences, that melted ſooner or later, as they were more or leſs congealed; ſo that we now heard every Thing that had been ſpoken du⯑ring the whole Three Weeks that we had been ſilent, if I may uſe that Expreſſion. It was now very early in the Morning, and yet, to my Sur⯑prize, I heard ſome Body ſay, Sir John, it is Mid⯑night, and Time for the Ship's Crew to go to Bed. This I knew to be the Pilot's Voice, and upon re⯑collecting my ſelf, I concluded that he had ſpo⯑ken theſe Words to me ſome Days before, though I could not hear them before the preſent Thaw. My Reader will eaſily imagine how the whole Crew was amazed, to hear every Man talking, and ſee no Man opening his Mouth. In the Midſt of this great Surprize we were all in, we heard a Volley of Oaths and Curſes, laſting for [286] a long while, and uttered in a very hoarſe Voice, which I knew belonged to the Boatſwain, who was a very cholerick Fellow, and had taken his Opportunity of Curſing and Swearing at me when he thought I could not hear him; for I had ſeveral Times given him the Strappado on that Account, as I did not fail to repeat it for theſe his pious Soliloquies when I got him on Ship⯑board.

I muſt not omit the Names of ſeveral Beauties in Wapping, which were heard every now and then, in the Midſt of a long Sigh that accompa⯑nied them; as, Dear Kate! Pretty Mrs. Peggy! When ſhall I ſee my Sue again? This betray'd ſeveral Amours which had been concealed till that Time, and furniſhed us with a great deal of Mirth in our Return to England.

When this Confuſion of Voices was pretty well over, though I was afraid to offer at Speaking, as fearing I ſhould not be heard, I propoſed a Viſit to the Dutch Cabbin, which lay about a Mile further up into the Country. My Crew were extreamly rejoiced to find they had again recovered their Hearing, though every Man ut⯑tered his Voice with the ſame Apprehenſions that I had done!

At about half a Mile's Diſtance from our Cab⯑bin, we heard the Groanings of a Bear, which at firſt ſtartled us; but upon Enquiry we were in⯑formed by ſome of our Company, that he was dead, and now lay in Salt, having been killed upon that very Spot about a Fortnight before, in the Time of the Froſt. Not far from the ſame Place we were likewiſe entertained with ſome poſthumous Snarls and Barkings of a Fox.

We at length arrived at the little Dutch Settle⯑ment, and upon entering the Room, found it filled [287] with Sighs that ſmelt of Brandy, and ſeveral o⯑ther unſavourly Sounds that were altogether in⯑articulate. My Valet, who was an Iriſhman, fell into ſo great a Rage at what he heard, that he drew his Sword; but not knowing where to lay the Blame, he put it up again. We were ſtun⯑ned with theſe confuſed Noiſes, but did not hear a ſingle Word till about half an Hour after; which I aſcribed to the harſh and obdurate Sounds of that Language, which wanted more Time than ours to melt and become audible.

After having here met with a very hearty Wel⯑come, we went to the French Cabbin, who, to make Amends for their Three Weeks Silence, were Talking and Diſputing with greater Rapi⯑dity and Confuſion than ever I heard in an Aſ⯑ſembly even of that Nation. Their Language as I found, upon the firſt Giving of the Weather, ſell aſunder and diſſolved. I was here convinced of an Error into which I had before fallen; for I fancied, that for the Freezing of the Sound, it was neceſſary for it to be wrapped up, and, as it were, preſerved in Breath; but I found my Mi⯑ſtake, when I heard the Sound of a Kit playing a Minuet over our Heads. I asked the Occaſion of it; upon which one of the Company told me, that it would play there above a Week longer if the Thaw continued; for, ſays he, finding our ſelves bereft of Speech, we prevailed upon one of the Company, who had this Muſical Inſtru⯑ment about him, to play to us from Morning to Night; all which Time we employed in Dan⯑cing, in order to diſſipate our Chagrin, & tuer le Temps.

Here Sir John gives very good Philoſophical Reaſons why the Kit could be heard during the Froſt; but as they are ſomething Prolix, I paſs them over in Silence, and ſhall only obſerve, that the honourable Author ſeems, by his Quo⯑tations, to have been well verſed in the ancient [288] Poets, which perhaps raiſed his Fancy above th [...] ordinary Pitch of Hiſtorians, and very muc [...] contributed to the Embelliſhment of his Wri⯑ings.

The Caſe of this Gentleman deſerves Pity, e⯑ſpecially if he loves Sweetmeats, to which, if I may gueſs by his Letter, he is no Enemy. In the mean Time, I have often wondered at the Indecency of diſcarding the holieſt Man from the Table as ſoon as the moſt delicious Parts of the Entertainment are ſerved up, and could never conceive a Reaſon for ſo abſurd a Cuſtom. Is it becauſe a liquoriſh Palate, or a ſweet Tooth (as they call it) is not conſiſtent with the Sanctity of his Character? This is but a trifling Pretence. No Man of the moſt rigid Virtue gives Offence by any Exceſſes in Plumb-Pudding or Plumb-Por⯑ridge, and that, becauſe they are the firſt Parts of the Dinner. Is there any Thing that tends to Incitation in Sweetmeats more than in ordi⯑nary Diſhes? Certainly not. Sugar-Plumbs are a very innocent Diet, and Conſerves of a much colder Nature than your common Pickles. I have ſometimes thought, that the Ceremony of the Chaplain's flying away from the Deſſert was Typical and Figurative, to mark out to the Com⯑pany how they ought to retire from all the luſ⯑cious Baits of Temptation, and deny their Appe⯑tites the Gratifications that are moſt pleaſing to them; or at leaſt to ſignify, that we ought to ſtint our ſelves in our moſt lawful Satisfactions, and not make our Pleaſure, but our Support, the End of Eating: But moſt certainly, if ſuch a Leſſon of Temperance had been neceſſary at a Table, our Clergy would have recommended it to all the Lay-Maſters of Families, and not have diſturbed other Men's Tables with ſuch unſeaſon⯑able Examples of Abſtinence. The Original [290] therefore of this barbarous Cuſtom, I take [...] have been meerly accidental. The Chaplain [...] ⯑tired out of pure Complaiſance to make Roo [...] for the Removal of the Diſhes, or poſſibly f [...] the Ranging of the Deſſert. This by Degre [...] grew into a Duty, till at length, as the Faſhio [...] improved, the good Man found himſelf cut [...] from the third Part of the Entertainment; an [...] if the Arrogance of the Patron goes on, it is n [...] impoſſible but, in the next Generation, he m [...] ſee himſelf reduced to the Tythe, or Tenth Di [...] of the Table; a ſufficient Caution not to pa [...] with any Privilege we are once poſſeſſed of. [...] was uſual for the Prieſt in old Times to feaſt [...] ⯑on the Sacrifice, nay the Honey-Cake, while th [...] hungry Laity looked upon him with great Devo⯑tion, or as the late Lord Rocheſter deſcribes it i [...] a very lively Manner:

At preſent the Cuſtom is inverted; the Lai [...] feaſt, while the Prieſt ſtands by as an humbl [...] Spectator. This neceſſarily puts the good Ma [...] upon making great Ravages on all the Diſhe [...] that ſtand near him, and diſtinguiſhing himſel [...] by Voraciouſneſs of Appetite, as knowing tha [...] his Time is ſhort. I would fain ask theſe ſtif [...] neck'd Patrons, Whether they would not take [...] ill of a Chaplain that, in his Grace after Meat, ſhould return Thanks for the whole Entertain⯑ment, with an Exception to the Deſſert? And ye [...] I cannot but think, that in ſuch a Proceeding [...] would but deal with them as they deſerved [...] What would a Roman Catholick Prieſt think [...] who is always helped firſt, and placed next th [...] Ladies, ſhould he ſee a Clergyman giving hi [...] Company the Slip at the firſt Appearance of th [...] Tarts or Sweetmeats? Would not he believ [...] that he had the ſame Antipathy to a Candie [...] Orange, or a Piece of Puff-Paſt, as ſome have [...] [291] a Cheſhire Cheeſe, or a Breaſt of Mutton? Yet to ſo ridiculous a Height is this fooliſh Cuſtom grown, that even the Chriſtmas Pye, which in its very Nature is a kind of conſecrated Cate, and a Badge of Diſtinction, is often forbidden to the Druid of the Family. Strange! that a Sirloin of Beef, whether boiled or roaſted, when entire, is expoſed to his utmoſt Depredations and Inciſions; but if minced into ſmall Pieces, and toſſed up with Plumbs and Sugar, changes its Property, and, forſooth, is Meat for his Ma⯑ſter.

In this Caſe I know not which to cenſure, the Patron or the Chaplain, the Inſolence of Power, or the Abjectneſs of Dependance. For my own Part, I have often bluſhed to ſee a Gentleman, whom I knew to have much more Wit and Lear⯑ning than my ſelf, and who was bred up with me at the Univerſity upon the ſame Foot of a liberal Education, treated in ſuch an ignominious Manner, and ſunk beneath thoſe of his own Rank, by reaſon of that Character which ought to bring him Honour. This deters Men of ge⯑nerous Minds from placing themſelves in ſuch a Station of Life, and by that Means frequently excludes Perſons of Quality from the improving and agreeable Converſation of a learned and ob⯑ſequious Friend.

Mr. Oldham lets us know, That he was affright⯑ed from the Thought of ſuch an Employment, by the ſcandalous Sort of Treatment which often accompanies it.

This Author's Raillery is the Raillery of a Friend, and does not turn the Sacred Order into Ridicule, but is a juſt Cenſure on ſuch Perſon [...] as take Advantage from the Neceſſities of a M [...] of Merit, to impoſe on him Hardſhips that a [...] by no Means ſuitable to the Dignity of his Pro⯑feſſion.

The Proceedings of the Court of Honour, held in Sheer-Lane on Monday the 20th of Novem⯑ber, 1710. before Iſaac Bickerſtaff Eſq Cenſor of Great Britain.

PEter Plumb, of London, Merchant, was in⯑dicted by the Honourable Mr. Thomas Gules, of Gule-Hall in the Country of Salop, for that the ſaid Peter Plumb did in Lombard-ſtreet, London, between the Hours of Two and Three in the Afternoon, meet the ſaid Mr. Thomas Gules, and after a ſhort Salutation, put on his Hat, Value Five-Pence, while the Honourable Mr. Gules ſtood bare-headed for the Space of Two Seconds. It was further urged againſt the Criminal, That during his Diſcourſe with the Proſecutor, he fe⯑loniouſly ſtole the Wall of him, having clapped his Back againſt it in ſuch a Manner that it was impoſſible for Mr. Gules to recover it again at his taking Leave of him. The Proſecutor alledged, That he was the Cadet of a very ancient Family; and that according to the Principles of all the younger Brothers of the ſaid Family, he had ne⯑ver ſullied himſelf with Buſineſs, but had choſen rather to ſtarve like a Man of Honour, than do any Thing beneath his Quality. He produced ſeveral Witneſſes, that he had never employed himſelf beyond the Twiſting of a Whip, or the Making of a Pair of Nut-Crackers, in which he [294] only worked for his Diverſion, in order to mae a Preſent now and then to his Friends. The Pri⯑ſoner being asked what he could ſay for himſelf, caſt ſeveral Reflections upon the Honourable Mr. Gules; as, That he was not worth a Groat; That no Body in the City would truſt him for a Halſpenny; That he owed him Money, which he had promiſed to pay him ſeveral Times, but ne⯑ver kept his Word: And in ſhort, That he was an idle, beggarly Fellow, and of no Uſe to the Publick. This Sort of Language was very ſe⯑verely reprimanded by the Cenſor, who told the Criminal, That he ſpoke in Contempt of the Court, and that he ſhould be proceeded againſt for Contumacy, if he did not change his Style. The Priſoner therefore deſired to be heard by his Council, who urged in his Defence, That he put on his Hat through Ignorance, and took the Wall by Accident. They likewiſe produced ſe⯑veral Witneſſes, That he made ſeveral Motions with his Hat in his Hand, which are generally underſtood as an Invitation to the Perſon we talk with to be covered; and that the Gentleman not taking the Hint, he was forced to put on his Hat, as being troubled with a Cold. There was likewiſe an Iriſh Man who depoſed, That he had heard him cough Three and twenty times that Morning. And as for the Wall, it was alledged That he had taken it inadvertently, to ſave him⯑ſelf from a Shower of Rain which was then fal⯑ling. The Cenſor having conſulted the Men of Honour who ſat at his Right Hand on the Bench, found they were all of Opinion, That the De⯑fence made by the Priſoner's Council did rather aggravate than extenuate his Crime; That the Motions and Intimations of the Hat were a To⯑ken of Superiority in Converſation, and therefore not to be uſed by the Criminal to a Man of the Proſecutor's Quality, who was likewiſe veſted with a double Title to the Wall at the Time of [295] [...]eir Converſation, both as it was the upper [...]and, and as it was a Shelter from the Weather. The Evidence being very full and clear, the [...]ry, without going out of Court, declared their Opinion unanimouſly by the Mouth of their Fore⯑man, That the Proſecutor was bound in Honour [...]o make the Sun ſhine through the Criminal, or, [...]s they afterwards explained themſelves, to whip [...]im through the Lungs.

The Cenſor knitting his Brows into a Frown, [...]nd looking very ſternly upon the Jury, after a [...]ittle Pauſe, gave them to know, That this Court was erected for the finding out of Penalties ſuita⯑ble to Offences, and to reſtrain the Outrages of private Juſtice; and that he expected they ſhould moderate their Verdict. The Jury therefore re⯑tired, and being willing to comply with the Ad⯑vices of the Cenſor, after an Hour's Conſulta⯑tion, declared their Opinion as follows:

That in Conſideration this was Peter Plumb's firſt Offence, and that there did not appear any Malice prepenſe in it, as alſo that he lived in good Reputation among his Neighbours, and that his taking the Wall was only ſe defendendo, the Pro⯑ſecutor ſhould let him eſcape with Life, and content himſelf with the Slitting of his Noſe, and the Cutting off both his Ears. Mr. Bicker⯑ſtaff ſmiling upon the Court, told them, That he thought the Puniſhment, even under its preſent Mitigation, too ſevere; and that ſuch Penalties might be of ill Conſequence in a Trading Na⯑tion. He therefore pronounced Sentence againſt the Criminal in the following Manner: That his Hat, which was the Inſtrument of Offence, ſhould be forfeited to the Court; That the Criminal ſhould go to the Warehouſe from whence he came, and thence, as Occaſion ſhould require, proceed to the Exchange, or Garraway's Coffee-houſe, in what Manner he pleaſed; but that neither he nor any of the Family of the [296] Plumbs ſhould hereafter appear in the Streets [...] London out of their Coaches, that ſo the Foo [...] Way might be left open and undiſturbed for thei [...] Betters.

Dathan, a Peddling Jew, and T. R—, [...] Welſhman, were indicted by the Keeper of [...] Alehouſe in Weſtminſter, for breaking the Peac [...] and two Earthen Mugs, in a Diſpute about the Antiquity of their Families, to the great Detri⯑ment of the Houſe, and Diſturbance of the whole Neighbourhood. Dathan ſaid for himſelf, that he was provoked to it by the Welſhman, who pretended, that the Welſh were an ancienter People than the Jews; whereas, ſays he, I can ſhew by this Genealogy in my Hand, that I am the Son of Meſheck, that was the Son of Naboth, that was the Son of Shalem, that was the Son of — The Welſhman here interrupted him, and told him, That he could produce Shennalo⯑gy as well as himſelf; for that he was John ap Rice, ap Shenkin, ap Shones. He then turned himſelf to the Cenſor, and told him in the ſame broken Accent, and with much Warmth, That the Jew would needs uphold, that King Cadwalla⯑der was younger than Iſſachar. Mr. Bickerſtaff ſeemed very much inclined to give Sentence a⯑gainſt Dathan, as being a Jew; but finding Rea⯑ſons, by ſome Expreſſions which the Welſhman let fall in aſſerting the Antiquity of his Family, to ſuſpect that the ſaid Welſhman was a Prae-Ada⯑mite, he ſuffered the Jury to go out, without any previous Admonition. After ſome Time they returned, and gave their Verdict, That it appearing the Perſons at the Bar did neither of them wear a Sword, and that conſequently they had no Right to quarrel upon a Point of Ho⯑nour; to prevent ſuch frivolous Appeals for the future, they ſhould both of them be toſſed in the ſame Blanket, and there adjuſt the Superio⯑rity [297] as they could agree it between themſelves. The Cenſor confirmed the Verdict.

Richard Newman was indicted by Major Punto, for having uſed the Words, Perhaps it may be ſo, in a Diſpute with the ſaid Major. The Major urged, That the Word, Perhaps, was queſtioning his Veracity, and that it was an indirect Manner of giving him the Lye. Richard Newman had nothing more to ſay for himſelf, than that he in⯑tended no ſuch Thing, and threw himſelf upon the Mercy of the Court. The Jury brought in their Verdict Special.

Mr. Bickerſtaff ſtood up, and after having caſt his Eyes over the whole Aſſembly, hem'd thrice. He then acquainted them, That he had laid down a Rule to himſelf, which he was reſolved never to depart from, and which, as he conceived, would very much conduce to the ſhortening the Buſineſs of the Court; I mean, ſays he, never to allow of the Lye being given by Conſtruction, Implication, or Induction, but by the ſole Uſe of the Word it ſelf. He then proceeded to ſhow the great Miſchiefs that had ariſen to the Engliſh Nation from that pernicious Monoſyllable; That it had bred the moſt fatal Quarrels between the deareſt Friends; That it had frequently thin'd the Guards, and made great Havock in the Ar⯑my; That it had ſometimes weaken'd the City Trained Bands; and, in a Word, had deſtroved many of the braveſt Men in the Iſle of Great Britain. For the Prevention of which Evils for the future, he inſtructed the Jury to preſent the Word it ſelf as a Nuſance in the Engliſh Tongue; and further promiſed them, That he would, up⯑on ſuch their Preſentment, publiſh an Edict of the Court for the entire Baniſhment and Exclu⯑ſion of it out of the Diſcourſes and Converſation of all civil Societies.

EVery Nation is diſtinguiſhed by Productions that are peculiar to it. Great Britain is par⯑ticularly fruitful in Religions, that ſhoot up and flouriſh in this Climate more than in any other. We are ſo famous Abroad for our great Variety of Sects and Opinions, that an ingenious Friend of mine, who is lately returned from his Tra⯑vels, aſſures me, there is a Show at this Time carried up and down in Germany, which repre⯑ſents all the Religions of Great Britain in Wax⯑work. Notwithſtanding that the Pliancy of the Matter in which the Images are wrought makes it capable of being moulded into all Shapes and Figures, my Friend tells me, that he did not think it poſſible for it to be twiſted and tortured into ſo many skrew'd Faces and wry Features as appeared in ſeveral of the Figures that compoſed the Show. I was indeed ſo pleaſed with the De⯑ſign of the German Artiſt, that I begged my Friend to give me an Account of it in all its Par⯑ticulars, which he did after the following Man⯑ner.

[299] I have often, ſays he, been preſent at a Show of Elephants, Camels, Dromedaries, and other ſtrange Creatures, but I never ſaw ſo great an Aſſembly of Spectators as were met together at the Opening of this great Piece of Wax-work. We were all placed in a large Hall, according to the Price that we had paid for our Seats: The Curtain that hung before the Show was made by a Maſter of Tapeſtry, who had woven it in the Figure of a monſtrous Hydra that had ſeveral Heads, which brandiſhed out their Tongues, and ſeemed to hiſs at each other. Some of theſe Heads were large and entire; and where any of them had been lopped away, there ſprouted up ſeveral in the Room of them; inſomuch that for one Head cut off, a Man might ſee Ten, Twen⯑ty, or an Hundred, of a ſmaller Size, creeping through the Wound. In ſhort, the whole Picture was nothing but Confuſion and Bloodſhed. On a ſudden, ſays my Friend, I was ſtartled with a Flouriſh of many Muſical Inſtruments that I had never heard before, which was followed by a ſhort Tune, (if it might be ſo called) wholly made up of Jars and Diſcords. Among the reſt, there was an Organ, a Bagpipe, a Groaning-Board, a Stentorophonick-Trumpet, with ſeveral Wind Inſtruments of a moſt diſagreeable Sound, which I do not ſo much as know the Name of. After a ſhort Flouriſh, the Curtain was drawn up, and we were preſented with the moſt extraordinary Aſſembly of Figures that ever entered into a Man's Imagination. The Deſign of the Work⯑man was ſo well expreſſed in the dumb Show before us, that it was not hard for an Engliſh⯑man to comprehend the Meaning of it.

The principal Figures were placed in a Row, conſiſting of Seven Perſons. The middle Figure, which immediately attracted the Eyes of the whole Company, and was much bigger than the reſt, was formed like a Matron, dreſſed in the Habit [300] of an elderly Woman of Quality in Queen Eli⯑zabeth's Days. The moſt remarkable Parts of her Dreſs, was the Beaver with the Steeple Crown, the Scarf that was darker than Sable, and the Lawn Apron that was whiter than Er⯑min. Her Gown was of the richeſt black Vel⯑vet, and juſt upon her Heart ſtudded with large Diamonds of an ineſtimable Value, diſpoſed in the Form of a Croſs. She bore an inexpreſſible Chearfulneſs and Dignity in her Aſpect; and though ſhe ſeemed in Years, appeared with ſo much Spirit and Vivacity, as gave her at the ſame Time an Air of old Age and Immortality. I found my Heart touched with ſo much Love and Reverence at the Sight of her, that the Tears ran down my Face as I looked upon her; and ſtill the more I looked upon her, the more my Heart was melted with the Sentiments of Filial Tenderneſs and Duty. I diſcovered every Mo⯑ment ſomething ſo charming in this Figure, that I could ſcarce take my Eyes off it. On its Right Hand there ſat the Figure of a Woman ſo covered with Ornaments, that her Face, her Body, and her Hands, were almoſt entirely hid under them. The little you could ſee of her Face was painted; and what I thought very odd, had ſomething in it like artificial Wrinkles; but I was the leſs ſurpriſed at it, when I ſaw upon her Forehead an old-faſhioned Tower of grey Hairs. Her Head-Dreſs roſe very high by Three ſeveral Stories or Degrees; her Garments had a Thouſand Colours in them, and were embroi⯑dered with Croſſes in Gold, Silver and Silk: She had nothing on, ſo much as a Glove or a Slipper, which was not marked with this Figure; nay, ſo ſuperſtitiouſly fond did ſhe appear of it, that ſhe ſat croſs-legged. I was quickly ſick of this tawdry Compoſition of Ribands, Silks and Jewels, and therefore caſt my Eye on a Dame which was juſt the Reverſe of it. I need not tell [301] my Reader, that the Lady before deſcribed was Popery, or that ſhe I am now going to deſcribe is Presbytery. She ſat on the Left Hand of the ve⯑nerable Matron, and ſo much reſembled her in the Features of her Countenance, that ſhe ſeemed her Siſter; but at the ſame Time that one obſer⯑ved a Likneſs in her Beauty, one could not but take Notice, that there was ſomething in it ſickly and ſplenatick. Her Face had enough to diſcover the Relation, but it was drawn up into a peeviſh Figure, ſowred with Diſcontent, and overcaſt with Melancholy. She ſeemed offended at the Matron for the Shape of her Hat, as too much reſembling the triple Coronet of the Perſon who ſat by her. One might ſee likewiſe, that ſhe diſſented from the white Apron and the Croſs; for which Reaſons ſhe had made her ſelf a plain, homely Dowdy, and turned her Face towards the Sectaries that ſat on her Left Hand, as being a⯑fraid of looking upon the Matron, leſt ſhe ſhould ſee the Harlot by her.

On the Right Hand of Popery ſat Judaiſm, re⯑preſented by an old Man embroidered with Phy⯑lacteries, and diſtinguiſhed by many Typical Fi⯑gures, which I had not Skill enough to unriddle. He was placed among the Rubbiſh of a Temple; but inſtead of weeping over it, (which I ſhould have expected from him) he was counting out a Bag of Money upon the Ruins of it.

On his Right Hand was Deiſm, or Natural Re⯑ligion. This was a Figure of an half-naked auk⯑ward Country Wench, who with proper Orna⯑ments and Education would have made an agree⯑able and beautiful Appearance; but for Want of thoſe Advantages, was ſuch a Spectacle, as a Man would bluſh to look upon.

I have now, continued my Friend, given you an Account of thoſe who were placed on the Right Hand of the Matron, and who, according to the Order in which they ſat, were Deiſm, Ju⯑daiſm, [302] and Popery. On the Left Hand, as I told you, appeared Presbytery. The next to her was a Figure which ſomewhat puzzled me: It was that of a Man looking, with Horror in his Eyes, upon a Silver Baſon filled with Water. Obſerving ſomething in his Countenance that looked like Lunacy, I fancied at firſt that he was to expreſs that kind of Diſtraction which the Phyſicians call the Hydro-Phobia; but conſidering what the Intention of the Show was, I immediately re⯑collected my ſelf, and concluded it to be Ana⯑baptiſm.

The next Figure was a Man that ſat under a moſt profound Compoſure of Mind: He wore an Hat whoſe Brims were exactly parallel with the Horizon: His Garment had neither Sleeve nor Skirt, nor ſo much as a ſuperfluous Button. What they called his Cravat, was a little Piece of white Linen quilled with great Exactneſs, and hanging below his Chin about two Inches. See⯑ing a Book in his Hand, I asked our Artiſt what it was, who told me it was the Quakers Religion; upon which I deſired a Sight of it. Upon Peru⯑ſal, I found it to be nothing but a new-faſhioned Grammar, or an Art of abridging ordinary Diſ⯑courſe. The Nouns were reduced to a very ſmall Number, as the Light, Friend, Babylon. The principal of his Pronouns was Thou; and as for You, Ye, and Yours, I found they were not looked upon as Parts of Speech in this Grammar. All the Verbs wanted the Second Perſon Plural; the Participles ended all in ing or ed, which were marked with a particular Accent. There were no Adverbs beſides Yea and Nay. The ſame Thrift was obſerved in the Prepoſitions. The Con⯑junctions were only Hem! and Ha! and the In⯑terjections brought under the Three Heads of Sighing, Sobbing, and Groaning.

[303] There was at the End of the Grammar a little Nomenclature, call'd, The Chriſtian Man's Voca⯑bulary, which gave new Appellations, or (if you will) Chriſtian Names to almoſt every Thing in Life. I replaced the Book in the Hand of the Fi⯑gure, not without admiring the Simplicity of its Garb, Speech, and Behaviour.

Juſt oppoſite to this Row of Religions, there was a Statue dreſſed in a Fool's Coat, with a Cap of Bells upon his Head, laughing and pointing at the Figures that ſtood before him. This Ideot is ſuppoſed to ſay in his Heart what David's Fool did ſome Thouſands of Years ago, and was therefore deſigned as a proper Repreſentative of thoſe among us who are called Atheiſts and In⯑fidels by others, and Free-Thinkers by them⯑ſelves.

There were many other Groupes of Figures which I did not know the Meaning of; but ſee⯑ing a Collection of both Sexes turning their Backs upon the Company, and laying their Heads very cloſe together, I enquired after their Religion, and found that they called themſelves the Philo⯑delphians, or the Family of Love.

In the oppoſite Corner there ſat another little Congregation of ſtrange Figures, opening their Mouths as wide as they could gape, and diſtin⯑guiſhed by the Title of the Sweet Singers of Iſrael.

I muſt not omit, that in this Aſſembly of Wax there were ſeveral Pieces that moved by Clock⯑work, and gave great Satisfaction to the Specta⯑tors. Behind the Matron there ſtood one of theſe Figures, and behind Popery another, which, as the Artiſt told us, were each of them the Genius of the Perſon they attended. That behind Popery repreſented Perſecution, and the other Moderation. The firſt of theſe moved by ſecret Springs to⯑wards a great Heap of dead Bodies that lay piled upon one another at a conſiderable Diſtance be⯑hind the principal Figures. There were written [304] on the Foreheads of theſe dead Men ſeveral ha [...] Words, as Prae-Adamites, Sabbatarians, Cam [...] ⯑nians, Muggletonians, Browniſts, Independants, M [...] ⯑ſonites, Camiſars, and the like. At the Approac [...] of Perſecution, it was ſo contrived, that as ſh [...] held up her Bloody Flag, the whole Aſſembly of dead Men, like thoſe in the Rehearſal, ſtarted up and drew their Swords. This was followed by great Claſhings and Noiſe, when, in the Midſt of the Tumult, the Figure of Moderation moved gently towards this new Army, which upon her holding up a Paper in her Hand, inſcribed, Li⯑berty of Conſcience, immediately fell into a Heap of Carcaſſes, remaining in the ſame quiet Poſture that they lay at firſt.

WHen a Man keeps a conſtant Table, he may be allowed ſometimes to ſerve up a cold Diſh of Meat, or toſs up the Fragments of a Feaſt into a Ragouſt. I have ſometimes, in a Scarcity of Proviſions, been obliged to take the ſame Kind of Liberty, and to entertain my Rea⯑der with the Leavings of a former Treat. I muſt this Day have Recourſe to the ſame Method, and beg my Gueſts to ſit down to a kind of Satur⯑day's Dinner. To let the Metaphor reſt, I in⯑tend to fill up this Paper with a Bundle of Let⯑ters relating to Subjects on which I have former⯑ly treated, and have ordered my Bookſeller to [305] rint at the End of each Letter the Minutes with which I endorſed it, after the firſt Peruſal of it.

See if this Letter be conformable to the Directions given in the Tatler above-mentioned.

Let this be referred to the Court of Honour.

Query 1. What Figure this Lady doth think her Lover will appear in? Or what Symptoms he will betray of his Paſſion upon being touched?

2. Whether a Touch of her Fan may not have the ſame Efficacy as a Touch of Ithuriel's Spear?

Requires no Anſwer.

To be anſwered next Thurſday, if nothing more material intervenes.

This to be conſidered on Saturday next.

A Continuation of the Journal of the Court of Ho⯑nour, held in Sheer-Lane on Monday the 27th of November, before Iſaac Bickerſtaff Eſq Cenſor of Great Britain.

ELizabeth Makebate, of the Pariſh of St. Cathe⯑rine's, Spinſter, was indicted for ſurrepti⯑tiouſly taking away the Haſſock from under the Lady Grave-Airs, between the Hours of Four and Five, on Sunday the 26th of November. The Pro⯑ſecutor depoſed, That as ſhe ſtood up to make a Courteſie to a Perſon of Quality in a neighbour⯑ing Pew, the Criminal conveyed away the Haſ⯑ſock by Stealth, inſomuch that the Proſecutor was obliged to fit all the while ſhe was at Church, or to ſay her Prayers in a Poſture that did not become a Woman of her Quality. The [310] Priſoner pleaded Inadvertency; and the Jury were going to bring it in Chance-medley, had not ſeveral Witneſſes been produced againſt the ſaid Elizabeth Makebate, that ſhe was an old Of⯑fender, and a Woman of a bad Reputation. It appeared in particular, That on the Sunday before ſhe had detracted from a new Petticoat of Mrs. Ma⯑ry Doelittle, having ſaid in the Hearing of ſeveral credible Witneſſes, that the ſaid Petticoat was ſcowred, to the great Grief and Detriment of the ſaid Mary Doelittle. There were likewiſe many Evidences produced againſt the Criminal, that though ſhe never failed to come to Church on Sunday, ſhe was a moſt notorious Sabbath-Brea⯑ker, and that ſhe ſpent her whole Time, during Divine Service, in diſparaging other People's Clothes, and whiſpering to thoſe who ſat next her. Upon the whole, ſhe was found guilty of the Indictment, and received Sentence to ask Pardon of the Proſecutor upon her bare Knees, without either Cuſhion or Haſſock under her, in the Face of the Court.

N. B. As ſoon as the Sentence was executed on the Criminal, which was done in open Court with the utmoſt Severity, the firſt Lady of the Bench on Mr. Bickerſtaff's Right Hand ſtood up, and made a Motion to the Court, That whereas it was impoſſible for Women of Faſhion to dreſs themſelves before the Church was half done, and whereas many Confuſions and Inconveniencies did ariſe thereupon, it might be lawful for them to ſend a Footman, in order to keep their Places, as was uſual in other polite and well regulated Aſſemblies. The Motion was ordered to be en⯑tred in the Books, and conſidered at a more con⯑venient Time.

Charles Cambrick, Linendraper, in the City of Weſtminſter, was indicted for ſpeaking obſcenely to the Lady Penolope Youthwood. It appeared, That the Proſecutor and her Woman going in a [311] Stage-Coach from London to Brentford, where they were to be met by the Lady's own Chariot, the Criminal and another of his Acquaintance travelled with them in the ſame Coach, at which Time the Priſoner talked Bawdy for the Space of Three Miles and a half. The Proſecutor alledg⯑ed, That over againſt the Old Fox at Knightſ⯑bridge he mentioned the Word Linen; That at the further End of Kenſington he made Uſe of the Term Smock; and that before he came to Ham⯑merſmith, he talked almoſt a Quarter of an Hour upon Wedding-Shifts. The Proſecutor's Woman confirmed what her Lady had ſaid, and added further, That ſhe had never ſeen her La⯑dy in ſo great a Confuſion, and in ſuch a Ta⯑king, as ſhe was during the whole Diſcourſe of the Criminal. The Priſoner had little to ſay for himſelf, but that he talked only in his own Trade, and meant no Hurt by what he ſaid. The Jury however found him guilty, and repreſented by their Forewoman, That ſuch Diſcourſes were apt to ſully the Imagination, and that by a Concate⯑nation of Idea's, the Word Linen implied many Things that were not proper to be ſtirred up in the Mind of a Woman who was of the Proſecu⯑tor's Quality, and therefore gave it as their Ver⯑dict, That the Linendraper ſhould loſe his Tongue. Mr. Bickerſtaff ſaid, he thought the Proſecutor's Ears were as much to blame as the Priſoner's Tongue, and therefore gave Sentence as follows: That they ſhould both be placed over-againſt one another in the Midſt of the Court, there to re⯑main for the Space of one Quarter of an Hour, during which Time, the Linendraper was to be gagged, and the Lady to hold her Hands cloſe upon both her Ears, which was executed accor⯑dingly.

Edward Callicoat was indicted as an Accomplice to Charles Cambrick, for that he the ſaid Edward Callicoat did, by his Silence and his Smiles, ſeem [312] to approve and abet the ſaid Charles Cambrick in every Thing he ſaid. It appeared, That the Pri⯑ſoner was Foreman of the Shop to the aforeſaid Charles Cambrick, and by his Poſt obliged to ſmile at every Thing that the other ſhould be pleaſed to ſay: Upon which he was acquitted.

Joſias Shallow was indicted in the Name of Dame Winifred, ſole Relict of Richard Dainty Eſq for having ſaid ſeveral Times in Company, and in the Hearing of ſeveral Perſons there preſent, That he was extremely obliged to the Widow Dainty, and that he ſhould never be able ſuffi⯑ciently to expreſs his Gratitude. The Proſecutor urged, That this might blaft her Reputation, and that it was in Effect a boaſting of Favours which he had never received. The Priſoner ſeemed to be much aſtoniſhed at the Conſtruction which was put upon his Words, and ſaid, That he meant nothing by them, but that the Widow had befriended him in a Leaſe, and was very kind to his younger Siſter. The Jury finding him a little weak in his Underſtanding, without going out of the Court, brought in their Verdict Igno⯑ramus.

Urſula Goodenough was accuſed by the Lady Betty Wou'dbe, for having ſaid, That ſhe the Lady Betty Wou'dbe was painted. The Priſoner brought ſeveral Perſons of good Credit to witneſs to her Reputation, and proved by undeniable Evidences, that ſhe was never at the Place where the Words were ſaid to have been uttered. The Cenſor ob⯑ſerving the Behaviour of the Proſecutor, found Reaſon to believe that ſhe had indicted the Priſo⯑ner for no other Reaſon but to make her Com⯑plexion be taken Notice of, which indeed was very freſh and beautiful: He therefore asked the Offender with a very ſtern Voice, How ſhe could preſume to ſpread ſo groundleſs a Report? And whether ſhe ſaw any Colours in the Lady Wou'd⯑be's Face that could procure Credit to ſuch a [313] Falſhood? Do you ſee (ſays he) any Lillies or Roſes in her Cheeks, any Bloom, any Probabili⯑ty?—The Proſecutor, not able to bear ſuch Language any longer, told him, That he talked like a blind old Fool, and that ſhe was aſham'd to have entertain'd any Opinion of his Wiſdom: But ſhe was ſoon put to Silence, and ſentenced to wear her Mask for Five Months, and not to preſume to ſhow her Face till the Town ſhould be empty.

Benjamin Buzzard Eſq was indicted for having told the Lady Everbloom at a publick Ball, That ſhe looked very well for a Woman of her Years. The Priſoner not denying the Fact, and perſiſting before the Court that he looked upon it as a Compliment, the Jury brought him in Non Com⯑pos Mentis.

The Court then adjourned to Monday the 11th Inſtant.

WE have a very learned and elaborate Diſ⯑ſertation upon Thumbs in Montaigne's Eſ⯑ſays, and another upon Ears in the Tale of a Tub. I am here going to write one upon Noſes, having choſen for my Text the following Verſes out of Hudibras:

Notwithſtanding that there is nothing obſcene in Natural Knowledge, and that I intend to give as little Offence as may be to Readers of a well⯑bred Imagination, I muſt, for my own Quiet, de⯑ſire the Criticks (who in all Times have been fa⯑mous for good Noſes) to refrain from the Lecture of this curious Tract. Theſe Gentlemen were formerly marked out and diſtinguiſhed by the little Rhinocerical Noſe, which was always look⯑ed upon as an Inſtrument of Deriſion, and which they were uſed to cock, toſs, or draw up in a contemptuous Manner, upon reading the Works of their ingenious Contemporaries. It is not therefore for this Generation of Men that I write the preſent Tranſaction,

But for the Sake of ſome of my Philoſophical Friends in the Royal Society, who peruſe Diſ⯑courſes of this Nature with a becoming Gravity, and a Deſire of improving by them.

Many are the Opinions of learned Men con⯑cerning the Riſe of that fatal Diſtemper which has always taken a particular Pleaſure in venting its Spight upon the Noſe. I have ſeen a little Burleſque Poem in Italian that gives a very plea⯑ſant Account of this Matter. The Fable of it [...]ns thus: Mars, the God of War, having ſerved during the Siege of Naples in the Shape of a French Colonel, received a Viſit one Night from Venus, the Goddeſs of Love, who had been al⯑ways his profeſſed Miſtreſs and Admirer. The [315] Poem ſays, ſhe came to him in the Diſguiſe of a Suttling Wench, with a Bottle of Brandy under her Arm. Let that be as it will, he managed Matters ſo well, that ſhe went away big-bellied, and was at length brought to Bed of a little Cu⯑pid. This Boy, whether it were by Reaſon of any bad Food that his Father had eaten during the Siege, or of any particular Malignity in the Stars that reigned at his Nativity, came into the World with a very ſickly Look, and crazy Conſtitution. As ſoon as he was able to handle his Bow, he made Diſcoveries of a moſt perverſe Diſpoſition. He dipped all his Arrows in Poiſon, that rotted every Thing they touched; and what was more particular, aimed all his Shafts at the Noſe, quite contrary to the Practice of his elder Brothers, who had made a humane Heart their Burt in all Countries and Ages. To break him of this Ro⯑guiſh Trick, his Parents put him to School to Mercury, who did all he could to hinder him from demoliſhing the Noſes of Mankind; but in Spight of Education, the Boy continued very unlucky; and tho' his Malice was a little ſoftened by good Inſtructions, he would very frequently let fly an invenomed Arrow, and wound his Votaries oft⯑ner in the Noſe than in the Heart. Thus far the Fable.

I need not tell my learned Reader, that Correg⯑gio has drawn a Cupid taking his Leſſon from Mercury, conformable to this Poem; nor that the Poem it ſelf was deſigned as a Burleſque upon Fracaſtorius.

It was a little after this fatal Siege of Naples that Talicotius begun to practiſe in a Town of Germany. He was the firſt Clap-Doctor that I meet with in Hiſtory, and a greater Man in his Age than our celebrated Dr. Wall. He ſaw his Species extremely mutilated and disfigured by this new Diſtemper that was crept into it; and therefore, in Purſuance of a very ſeaſonable In⯑ven⯑tion, [316] ſet up a Manufacture of Noſes, havin [...] firſt got a Patent that none ſhould preſume t [...] make Noſes beſides himſelf. His firſt Patien [...] was a great Man of Portugal, who had done goo [...] Services to his Country, but in the Midſt of the [...] unfortunately loſt his Noſe. Talicotius grafted [...] new one on the remaining Part of the Griſtle o [...] Cartilaginous Subſtance, which would ſneeze [...] ſmell, take Snuff, pronounce the Letters M. or N [...] and in ſhort, do all the Functions of a Genuine and Natural Noſe. There was however one Miſ⯑fortune in this Experiment: The Portugueſe's Complexion was a little upon the Subfusk, with very black Eyes and dark Eyebrows; and the Noſe being taken from a Porter that had a white German Skin, and cut out of thoſe Parts that are not expoſed to the Sun, it was very viſible that the Features of his Face were not Fellows. In a Word, the Comdé reſembled one of thoſe maimed antique Statues that has often a modern Noſe of freſh Marble glewed to a Face of ſuch a yellow Ivory Complexion as nothing can give but Age. To remedy this Particular for the future, the Doctor got together a great Collection of Porters, Men of all Complexions, black, brown, fair, dark, ſallow, pale, and ruddy; ſo that it was impoſſible for a Patient of the moſt out-of-the-way Colour not to find a Noſe to match it.

The Doctor's Houſe was now very much en⯑larged, and become a Kind of College, or rather Hoſpital, for the faſhionable Cripples of both Sexes that reſorted to him from all Parts of Eu⯑rope. Over his Door was faſtened a large Golden Snout, not unlike that which is placed over the great Gates at Brazen-Noſe College in Oxford; and as it is uſual for the Learned in Foreign Uni⯑verſities to diſtinguiſh their Houſes by a Latin Sentence, the Doctor writ underneath this great Golden Proboſcis Two Verſes out of Ovid:

It is reported, That Talicotius had at one Time in his Houſe Twelve German Counts, Nineteen French Marquiſſes, and a Hundred Spaniſh Cava⯑liers, beſides One ſolitary Engliſh Eſquire, of whom more hereafter. Tho' the Doctor had the Monopoly of Noſes in his own Hands, he is ſaid not to have been unreaſonable. Indeed if a Man had Occaſion for a high Roman Noſe, he muſt go to the Price of it. A Carbuncle Noſe likewiſe bore an exceſſive Rate: But for your ordinary ſhort turned-up Noſes, of which there was the greateſt Conſumption, they coſt little or nothing; at leaſt the Purchaſers thought ſo, who would have been content to have paid much dearer for them, rather than to have gone without them.

The Sympathy betwixt the Noſe and its Parent was very extraordinary. Hudibras has told us, that when the Porter died, the Noſe dropped of Courſe, in which Caſe it was always uſual to return the Noſe, in order to have it interred with its firſt Owner. The Noſe was likewiſe affected by the Pain as well as Death of the Original Proprietor. An eminent Inſtance of this Nature happen'd to Three Spaniards, whoſe Noſes were all made out of the ſame Piece of Brawn. They found them one Day ſhoot and ſwell extremely; upon which they ſent to know how the Porter did, and heard upon Enquiry, that the Parent of the Noſes had been ſeverely kicked the Day before, and that the Porter kept his Bed on Account of the Bruiſes it had received. This was highly reſented by the Spaniards, who found out the Perſon that had uſed the Porter ſo unmercifully, and treated him in the ſame Manner as if the Indignity had been done to their own Noſes. In this and ſeveral o⯑ther Caſes it might be ſaid, That the Porters led the Gentlemen by the Noſe.

[318] On the other Hand, if any Thing went a [...] with the Noſe, the Porter felt the Effects of [...] inſomuch that it was generally articled with [...] Patient, that he ſhould not only abſtain from [...] his old Courſes, but ſhould on no Pretence wh [...] ⯑ſoever ſmell Pepper, or eat Muſtard; on whi [...] Occaſion, the Part where the Inciſion had be [...] made was ſeized with unſpeakable Twinges a [...] Prickings.

The Engliſhman I before mentioned was ſo ve [...] irregular, and relapſed ſo frequently into the D [...] ⯑ſtemper which at firſt brought him to the lear [...] Talicotius, that in the Space of Two Years he wo [...] out Five Noſes, and by that Means ſo torment [...] the Porters, that if he would have given 500 [...] for a Noſe, there was not one of them that wo [...] accommodate him. This young Gentleman w [...] born of honeſt Parents, and paſſed his firſt Yea [...] in Fox-hunting; but accidentally quitting t [...] Woods, and coming up to London, he was [...] charmed with the Beauties of the Play-hou [...] that he had not been in Town Two Days befo [...] he got the Misfortune which carried off this P [...] of his Face. He uſed to be called in Germa [...] The Engliſhman of Five Noſes, and, The Gentl [...] ⯑man that had thrice as many Noſes as he h [...] Ears: Such was the Raillery of thoſe Times.

I ſhall cloſe this Paper with an Admonition [...] the young Men of this Town, which I think t [...] more neceſſary, becauſe I ſee ſeveral new fre [...] coloured Faces, that have made their firſt A [...] ⯑pearance in it this Winter. I muſt therefore a [...] ⯑ſure them, that the Art of making Noſes is e [...] ⯑tirely loſt; and in the next Place, beg them not [...] follow the Example of our ordinary Town Rake [...] who live as if there was a Talicotius to be met wit [...] at the Corner of every Street. Whatever youn [...] Men may think, the Noſe is a very becoming P [...] of the Face, and a Man makes but a very ſilly Figu [...] without it. But it is the Nature of Youth n [...] [319] to know the Value of any Thing till they have loſt it. The general Precept therefore I ſhall leave with them is, to regard every Town-Woman as a particular Kind of Siren, that has a Deſign up⯑on their Noſes; and that, amidſt her Flatteries and Allutements, they will fancy ſhe ſpeaks to 'em in that humorous Phraſe of old Plautus:

IT is the Duty of all who make Philoſophy the Entertainment of their Lives, to turn their Thoughts to practical Schemes for the Good of Society, and not paſs away their Time in fruit⯑leſs Searches, which tend rather to the Oſtenta⯑tion of Knowledge than the Service of Life. For this Reaſon I cannot for bear reading even the com⯑mon Bills that are daily put into People's Hands as they paſs the Streets, which give us Notice of the preſent Reſidence, the paſt Travels, and in⯑fallible Medicines of Doctors uſeful in their Gene⯑ration, though much below the Character of the renowned Talicotius: But upon a nice Calcula⯑tion of the Succeſſes of ſuch Adepts, I find their Labours tend moſtly to the enriching only one Sort of Men, that is to ſay, the Society of Upholders. From this Obſervation, and many other which oc⯑cur to me when I am numbering the good People of Great Britain, I cannot but favour any Propo⯑ſal which tends to repairing the Loſſes we ſuſtain [320] by eminent Cures. The beſt I have met with i [...] this Kind, has been offered to my Conſideratio [...] and recommended by a Letter, ſubſcribed Thoma [...] Clement. The Title to his printed Articles ru [...] thus: By the Profitable Society at the Wheat-Shea [...] over-againſt Tom's Coffee-houſe in Ruſſel-Street, Covent-Garden, new Propoſals for promoting a Con⯑tribution towards raiſing Two Hundred and Fifty Pounds to be made on the Baptizing of any Infant born in Wedlock. The Plan is laid with ſuch pro⯑per Regulations, as ſerves (to ſuch as fall in with it for the Sake of their Poſterity) all the Uſes, without any of the Inconveniencies of Sentlements. By this Means, ſuch whoſe Fortunes depend upon their own Induſtry, or Perſonal Qualifications, need not be deterred by Fear of Poverty from that State which Nature and Reaſon preſcribe to us as the Fountain of the greateſt Happineſs in Hu⯑mane Life. The Cenſors of Rome had Power veſted in them to lay Taxes on the unmarried; and I think I cannot ſhow my Impartiality better than in enquiring into the extravagant Privileges my Brother Batchelors enjoy, and fine them accord⯑ingly. I ſhall not allow a ſingle Life in one Set to be reproached, and held in Eſteem in the other. It would not, methinks, be amiſs, if an old Bat⯑chelor, who lives in Contempt of Matrimony, were obliged to give a Portion to an old Maid who is willing to enter into it. At the ſame Time I muſt allow, that thoſe who can plead Court⯑ſhip, and were unjuſtly rejected, ſhall not be lia⯑ble to the Pains and Penalties of Celibacy. But ſuch as pretend an Averſion to the whole Sex, be⯑cauſe they were ill treated by a particular Female, and cover their Senſe of Diſappointment in Wo⯑men under a Contempt of their Favour, ſhall be proceeded againſt as Batchelors Convict. I am not without Hopes, that from this ſlight Warning, all the unmarried Men of Fortune, Taſt, and Refine⯑ment, will, without further Delay, become Lo⯑vers [321] and humble Servants to ſuch of their Ac⯑ [...]uaintance as are moſt agreeable to them, under [...]ain of my Cenſures: And it is to be hoped, the [...]eſt of the World, who remain ſingle for fear of the [...]ncumbrances of Wedlock, will become Subſcri⯑ [...]ers to Mr. Clement's Propoſal. By theſe Means [...]e ſhall have a much more numerous Account of [...]irths in the Year 1711, than any ever before [...]nown in Great Britain, where meerly to be born [...] a Diſtinction of Providence, greater than being [...]orn to a Fortune in another Place.

As I was going on in the Conſideration of this good Office which Mr. Clement propoſes to do his Country, I received the following Letter, which ſeems to be dictated by a like modeſt and publick Spirit, that makes Uſe of me alſo in its Deſign of obliging Mankind.

It is no ſmall Pleaſure to obſerve, that in the midſt of a very degenerate Age, ſtill Spi⯑rits which retain their natural Dignity, and pur⯑ſue the Good of their Fellow Creatures: Some in [322] making themſelves uſeful by profeſſed Servi [...] ſome by ſecret Generoſity. Were I at Liberty [...] diſcover even all the Good I know of many M [...] living at this Time, there would want nothi [...] but a ſuitable Hiſtorian to make them appear [...] illuſtrious as any of the nobleſt of the old Gree [...] or Romans. The Cunning ſome have uſed to [...] handſome and worthy Actions, the Addreſs to [...] Men Services, and eſcape their Notice, has pro⯑duced ſo many ſurprizing Incidents, (which hav [...] been laid before me during my Cenſorſhip) a [...] in the Opinion of Poſterity, would abſolve thi [...] Age of all its Crimes and Follies. I know n [...] Way to deal with ſuch delicate Minds as theſe, but by aſſuring them, that when they ceaſe to do Good, I ſhall tell all the Good they have done al⯑ready. Let therefore the Benefactor to the Youths above-mentioned continue ſuch Bounties, upon Pain of being publickly praiſed. But there is no Probability of his running into that Hazard; for a ſtrong Habit of Virtue can make Men ſuſpend the receiving Acknowledgments due to their Me⯑rit, till they are out of a Capacity of receiving them. I am ſo very much charmed with Acci⯑dents of this Kind, that I have made a Collection of all the memorable handſome Things done by private Men in my Time. As a Specimen of my Manner of noting ſuch Actions, take the follow⯑ing Fragment out of much more which is written in my Year-Book on the remarkable Will of a Gentleman, whom I ſhall here call Celamico.

He was a Perſon of a very enlarged Soul, and thought the neareſt Relation among Men to be the Reſemblance of their Minds and Sentiments. He [323] was not miſtaken in the Worth of his Succeſſor, who received the News of this unexpected good Fortune with an Air that ſhowed him leſs moved with the Benefit, than the Loſs of the Benefactor.

Journal of the Court of Honour, &c.

TImothy Treatall Gent. was indicated by ſeve⯑ral Ladies of his Siſters Acquaintance for a very rude Affront offered to them at an Entertain⯑ment, to which he had invited them on Tueſday the 7th of November laſt paſt, between the Hours of Eight and Nine in the Evening. The Indict⯑ment ſet forth, That the ſaid Mr. Treatall, upon the Serving up of the Supper, deſired the Ladies to take their Places according to their different Age and Seniority, for that it was the Way always at his Table to pay Reſpect to Years. The ind ct⯑ment added, That this produced an unſpeakable [324] Confuſion in the Company; for that the Ladies who before had preſſed together for a Placo at the upper End of the Table, immediately crowded with the ſame Diſorder towards the End that was quite oppoſite; That Mrs. Frontly had the Inſo⯑leuce to clap her ſelf down at the very loweſt Place of the Table; That the Widow Partlett ſeated her ſelf on the Right Hand of Mrs. Frontly, alledging for her Excuſe, that no Ceremony was to be uſed at a Round Table; That Mrs. Fidges and Mrs. Feſcue diſputed above half an Hour for the ſame Chair, and that the latter would not give up the Cauſe till it was decided by the Pa⯑riſh Regiſter, which happened to be kept hard by. The Indictment further ſaid. That the reſt of the Company who ſat down, did it with a Reſerve to their Right, which they were at Liberty to aſſert on another Occaſion; and that Mrs. Mary Pippe, an old Maid, was placed by the unanimous Vote of the whole Company at the upper End of the Table, from whence ſhe had the Confuſion to be⯑hold ſeveral Mothers of Families among her In⯑feriors. The Criminal alledged in his Defence, That what he had done, was to raiſe Mirth, and avoid Ceremony, and that the Ladies did not complain of his Rudeneſs till the next Morning, having eaten up what he had provided for them with great Readineſs and Alacrity. The Cenſor frowning upon him, told him, That he ought not to diſcover ſo much Levity in Matters of a ſerious Nature, and (upon the Jury's bringing him in guilty) ſentenced him to treat the whole Aſſem⯑bly of Ladies over again, and to take Care that he did it with the Decorum which was due to Perſons of their Quality.

Rebecoa Shapely, Spinſter, was indicted by Mrs. Sarah Smack, for ſpeaking many Words re⯑ſiecting upon her Reputation, and the Heels of her Silk Slippers, which the Priſoner had mali⯑ciouſiy ſuggeſted to be two Inches higher than [325] they really were. The Proſecutor urged, as an Aggravation of her Guilt, That the Priſoner was her ſelf guilty of the ſame Kind of Forgery which ſhe had laid to the Proſecutor's Charge, for that ſhe the ſaid Rebecca Shapely did always wear a Pair of Steel Bodice, and a falſe Rump. The Cenſor ordered the Slippers to be produced in open Court, where the Heels were adjudged to be of the Statutable Size. He then ordered the Grand Jury to ſearch the Criminal, who, after ſome Time ſpent therein, acquitted her of the Bodice, but found her guilty of the Rump; upon which ſhe received Sentence as is uſual in ſuch Caſes.

William Trippit Eſquire, of the Middle-Temple, brought his Action againſt the Lady Elizabeth Prudely, for having refuſed him her Hand as he offered to lead her to her Coach from the Opera. The Plaintiff ſet forth, That he had entred himſelf into the Liſt of thoſe Volunteers who officiate e⯑very Night behind the Boxes as Gentlemen-Uſh⯑ers of the Play-houſe; That he had been at a con⯑ſiderable Charge in white Gloves, Periwigs, and Snuff-Boxes, in order to qualify himſelf for that Employment, and in Hopes of making his For⯑tune by it. The Council for the Defendant re⯑ply'd, That the Plaintiff had given out that he was within a Month of wedding their Client, and that ſhe had refuſed her Hand to him in Ceremony, leſt he ſhould interpret it as a Promiſe that ſhe would give it him in Marriage. As ſoon as their Plead⯑ings on both Sides were finiſhed, the Cenſor or⯑dered the Plaintiff to be caſhier'd from his Office of Gentleman-Uſher to the Play-houſe, ſince it was too plain that he had undertaken it with an ill Deſign; and at the ſame Time ordered the Defendant either to marry the ſaid Plaintiff, or to pay him Half a Crown for the new Pair of Gloves and Coach-hire that he was at the Expence of in her Service.

[326] The Lady Townly brought an Action of Debt a⯑gainſt Mrs. Flambeau, for that the ſaid Mrs. Flam⯑beau had not been to ſee the ſaid Lady Townly, and wiſh her Joy, ſince her Marriage with Sir Ralph, notwithſtanding ſhe the ſaid Lady Townly had paid Mrs. Flambeau a Viſit upon her firſt coming to Town. It was urged in the Behalf of the De⯑fendant, That the Plaintiff had never given her any regular Notice of her being in Town; That the Viſit ſhe alledged had been made on a Monday, which ſhe knew was a Day on which Mrs. Flam⯑beau was always abroad, having ſet aſide that only Day in the Week to mind the Affairs of her Fami⯑ly; That the Servant who enquired whether ſhe was at Home, did not give the Viſiting-Knock; That it was not between the Hours of Five and Eight in the Evening; That there was no Can⯑dles lighted up; That it was not on Mrs. Flam⯑beau's Day; and in ſhort, That there was not one of the eſſential Points obſerved that conſtitute a Viſit. She further proved by her Porter's Book, which was produced in Court, that ſhe had paid the Lady Townly a Viſit on the Twenty fourth Day of March, juſt before her leaving the Town, in the Year 1709-10, for which ſhe was ſtill Cre⯑ditor to the ſaid Lady Townly. To this the Plain⯑tiff only replied, That ſhe was now under Co⯑vert, and not liable to any Debts contracted when ſhe was a ſingle Woman. Mr. Bickerſtaff finding the Cauſe to be very intricate, and that ſeveral Points of Honour were likely to ariſe in it, he de⯑ferred giving Judgment upon it till the next Seſſion Day, at which Time he ordered the Ladies on his Left Hand to preſent to the Court a Table of all the Laws relating to Viſits.

Winifred Lear brought her Action againſt Ri⯑chard Sly, for having broken a Marriage Contract, and wedded another Woman, after he had enga⯑ged himſelf to marry the ſaid Winifred Lear. She alledged, That he had ogled her twice ar an Ope⯑ra, [327] thrice in St. James's Church, and once at Powel's Puppet-Show, at which Time he promi⯑ſed her Marriage by a Side-Glance, as her Friend could teſtify that ſat by her. Mr. Bickerſtaff find⯑ing that the Defendant had made no further Over⯑ture of Love or Marriage, but by Looks, and Ocu⯑lar Engagement; yet at the ſame Time conſider⯑ing how very apt ſuch impudent Seducers are to lead the Ladies Hearts aſtray, ordered the Crimi⯑nal to ſtand upon the Stage in the Haymarket, be⯑tween each Act of the next Opera, there to be expoſed to publick View as a falſe Ogler.

Upon the Riſing of the Court, Mr. Bickerſtaff having taken one of theſe Counterfeits in the very Fact as he was ogling a Lady of the Grand Jury, ordered him to be ſeized, and proſecuted upon the Statute of Ogling. He likewiſe directed the Clerk of the Court to draw up an Edict againſt theſe common Cheats, that make Women believe they are diſtracted for them by ſtaring them out of Countenance, and often blaſt a Lady's Reputa⯑tion whom they never ſpoke to, by ſaucy Looks and diſtant Familiarities.

AN old Friend of mine being lately come to Town, I went to ſee him on Tuſday laſt about Eight a Clock in the Evening, with a Deſign to ſit with him an Hour or two, and talk over old Stories; but upon enquiring after him, his Servant told me he was juſt gone to Bed. The next Morn⯑ing, as ſoon as I was up and dreſſed, and had diſ⯑patched [328] a little Buſineſs, I came again to my Friend's Houſe about Eleven a Clock, with a Deſign to renew my Viſit; but upon asking for him, his Servant told me he was juſt ſat down to Dinner. In ſhort, I found that my old faſhioned Friend religiouſly adhered to the Example of his Fore-fathers, and obſerved the ſame Hours that had been kept in the Family ever ſince the Con⯑queſt.

It is very plain, that the Night was much longer formerly in this Iſland than it is at preſent. By the Night, I mean that Portion of Time which Nature has thrown into Darkneſs, and which the Wiſdom of Mankind had formerly dedicated to Reſt and Silence. This uſed to begin at Eight a Clock in the Evening, and conclude at Six in the Morning. The Corfeu, or Eight a Clock Bell, was the Signal throughout the Nation for putting out their Candles and going to Bed.

Our Grandmothers, tho' they were wont to ſit up the laſt in the Family, were all of them faſt aſleep at the ſame Hours that their Daughters are buſy at Crimp and Baſſet. Modern Stateſmen are concerting Schemes, and engaged in the Depth of Politicks, at the Time when their Fore-fathers were laid down quietly to Reſt, and had nothing in their Heads but Dreams. As we have thus thrown Buſineſs and Pleaſure into the Hours of Reſt, and by that Means made the natural Night but half as long as it ſhould be, we are forced to piece it out with a great Part of the Morning; ſo that near Two thirds of the Nation lie faſt aſleep for ſeveral Hours in broad Day-light. This Irre⯑gularity is grown ſo very faſhionable at preſent, that there is ſcarce a Lady of Quality in Great Britain that ever ſaw the Sun riſe. And if the Humour encreaſes in Proportion to what it has done of late Years, it is not impoſſible but our Children may hear the Bell-Man going about the Streets at Nine a Clock in the Morning, and the [329] Watch making their Rounds till Eleven. This unaccountable Diſpoſition in Mankind to continue awake in the Night, and ſleep in Sunſhine, has made me enquire, Whether the ſame Change of Inclination has happened to any other Animals? For this Reaſon I deſired a Friend of mine in the Country to let me know, Whether the Lark riſes as early as he did formerly? And whether the Cock begins to crow at his uſual Hour? My Friend has anſwered me, That his Poultry are as regular as ever, and that all the Birds and the Beaſts of his Neighbourhood keep the ſame Hours that they have obſerved in the Memory of Man; and the ſame which, in all Probability, they have kept for theſe Five Thouſand Years.

If you would ſee the Innovations that have been made among us in this Particular, you may only look into the Hours of Colleges, where they ſtill dine at Eleven, and ſup at Six, which were doubt⯑leſs the Hours of the whole Nation at the Time when thoſe Places were founded. But at preſent the Courts of Juſtice are ſcarce opened in Weſt⯑minſter-Hall at the Time when William Rufus uſed to go to Dinner in it. All Buſineſs is driven forward: The Land Marks of our Fathers (if I may ſo call them) are removed, and planted fur⯑ther up into the Day; inſomuch that I am afraid our Clergy will be obliged (if they expect full Congregations) not to look any more upon Ten a Clock in the Morning as a Canonical Hour. In my own Memory the Dinner has crept by Degrees from Twelve a Clock to Three, and where it will fix no Body knows.

I have ſometimes thought to draw up a Memo⯑rial in the Behalf of Supper againſt Dinner, ſet⯑ting forth, That the ſaid Dinner has made ſeveral Encroachments upon the ſaid Supper, and entered very far upon his Frontiers; That he has baniſhed him out of ſeveral Families, and in all has driven him from his Head Quarters, and forced him to [330] make his Retreat into the Hours of Midnig [...] and in ſhort, That he is now in Danger of be [...] entirely confounded and loſt in a Breakfaſt. Th [...] who have read Lucian, and ſeen the Complai [...] of the Letter T. againſt S. upon Account of ma [...] Injuries and Uſurpations of the ſame Nature, [...] not, I believe, think ſuch a Memorial forced a [...] unnatural. If Dinner has been thus poſtpo [...] or (if you pleaſe) kept back from Time to Ti [...] you may be ſure that it has been in Complia [...] with the other Buſineſs of the Day, and that Su [...] ⯑per has ſtill obſerved a proportionable Diſtanc [...] There is a venerable Proverb, which we have a [...] of us heard in our Infancy, of putting the Child [...] to Bed, and laying the Gooſe to the Fire. This w [...] one of the Jocular Sayings of our Fore-fathers, [...] may be properly uſed in the Literal Senſe at p [...] ⯑ſent. Who would not wonder at this perver [...] Reliſh of thoſe who are reckoned the moſt po [...] Part of Mankind, that prefer Sea-Coals and Ca [...] ⯑dles to the Sun, and exchange ſo many chearf [...] Morning Hours for the Pleaſures of Midnig [...] Revels and Debauches? If a Man was only [...] conſult his Health, he would chuſe to live h [...] whole Time (if poſſible) in Day-light, and to [...] ⯑tire out of the World into Silence and Slee [...] while the raw Damps and unwholeſome Vapo [...] fly Abroad without a Sun to diſperſe, modera [...] or controul them. For my own Part, I value [...] Hour in the Morning as much as common Libe [...] ⯑tines do an Hour at Midnight. When I find [...] ſelf awakened into Being, and perceive my Li [...] renewed within me, and at the ſame Time f [...] the whole Face of Nature recovered out of th [...] dark uncomfortable State in which it lay for [...] ⯑veral Hours, my Heart overflows with ſuch ſec [...] Sentiments of Joy and Gratitude as are a Kind [...] implicit Praiſe to the great Author of Nature [...] The Mind in theſe early Seaſons of the Day is [...] refreſhed in all its Faculties, and born up wi [...] [331] ſuch new Supplies of Animal Spirits, that ſhe finds her ſelf in a State of Youth, eſpecially when ſhe is entertained with the Breath of Flowers, the Melody of Birds, the Dews that hang upon the Plants, and all thoſe other Sweets of Nature that are peculiar to the Morning.

It is impoſſible for a Man to have this Reliſh of Being, this exquiſite Taſt of Life, who does not come into the World before it is in all its Noiſe and Hurry; who loſes the Riſing of the Sun, the ſtill Hours of the Day, and immediately upon his firſt getting up plunges himſelf into the ordinary Cares or Follies of the World.

I ſhall conclude this Paper with Milton's inimi⯑table Deſcription of Adam's awakening his Eve in Paradiſe, which indeed would have been a Place as little delightful as a barren Heath or De⯑ſert to thoſe who ſlept in it. The Fondneſs of the Poſture in which Adam is repreſented, and the Softneſs of his Whiſper, are Paſſages in this Di⯑vine Poem that are above all Commendation, and rather to be admired than praiſed.

BOccalim, in his Parnaſſus, indicts a Laconick Writer for ſpeaking that in Three Words which he might have ſaid in Two, and ſentences him for his Puniſhment to read over all the Works of Guicciardin. This Guicciardin is ſo very prolix and circumſtantial in his Writing, that I remember our Countryman Dr. Don, ſpeal⯑ing of that Majeſtick and Conciſe Manner is which Moſes has deſcribed the Creation of the World, adds, ‘"That if ſuch an Author as Guic⯑ciardin were to have written on ſuch a Subject, the World it ſelf would not have been able to have contained the Books that gave the Hiſtory of its Creation.'’

I look upon a tedious Talker, or what is gene⯑rally known by the Name of a Story-Teller, to [333] [...]e much more inſufferable than even a prolix Wri⯑ [...]r. An Author may be toſs'd out of your Hand, [...]d thrown aſide when he grows dull and tire⯑ [...]me; but ſuch Liberties are ſo far from being al⯑ [...]ed towards your Orators in common Conver⯑ [...]tion, that I have known a Challenge ſent a Per⯑ [...]n for going out of the Room abruptly, and lea⯑ [...]ng a Man of Honour in the Midſt of a Diſſerta⯑ [...]on. This Evil is at preſent ſo very Common and [...]pidemical, that there's ſcarce a Coffee-houſe in [...]own that has not ſome Speakers belonging to it, [...]ho utter their Political Eſſays, and draw Paral⯑ [...]ls out of Baker's Chronicle to almoſt every Part [...]f Her Majeſty's Reign. It was ſaid of two an⯑ [...]ent Authors who had very different Beauties in [...]eir Style, That if you took a Word from one of [...]em, you only ſpoiled his Eloquence; but if you [...]ok a Word from the other, you ſpoiled his Senſe. [...] have often applied the firſt Part of this Criticiſm [...] ſeveral of theſe Coffee-houſe Speakers whom I [...]ave at preſent in my Thoughts, tho' the Cha⯑ [...]acter that is given to the laſt of thoſe Authors is what I would recommend to the Imitation of my [...]oving Countrymen: But it is not only publick Places of Reſort, but private Clubs and Conver⯑ [...]ations over a Bottle, that are infeſted with this [...]oquacious Kind of Animal, eſpecially with that [...]pecies which I comprehend under the Name of [...] Story-Teller. I would earneſtly deſire theſe Gentlemen to conſider, that no Point of Wit or Mirth at the End of a Story can attone for the Half-Hour that has been loſt before they come at [...]t. I would likewiſe lay it home to their ſerious Conſideration, Whether they think that every Man in the Company has not a Right to ſpeak as well as themſelves? And whether they do not [...]hink they are invading another Man's Property, when they engroſs the Time which ſhould be di⯑ [...]ided equally amongſt the Company to their own [...]rivate Uſe?

[334] What makes this Evil the much greater in Con⯑verſation is, that theſe Humdrum Companion [...] ſeldom endeavour to wind up their Narrations in⯑to a Point of Mirth or Inſtruction, which might make ſome Amends for the Tediouſneſs of them, but think they have a Right to tell any Thing that has happened within their Memory. They look upon Matter of Fact to be a ſufficient Foun⯑dation for a Story, and give us a long Account of Things, not becauſe they are entertaining or ſur⯑prizing, but becauſe they are true.

My ingenious Kinſman, Mr. Humphrey Wagſtaff uſes to ſay, The Life of Man is too ſhort for a Story-Teller.

Methuſalem might be half an Hour in telling what a Clock it was; but as for us Poſtdiluvians, we ought to do every Thing in Haſt; and in our Speeches, as well as Actions, remember that our Time is ſhort. A Man that talks for a Quarter of an Hour together in Company, if I meet him frequently, takes up a great Part of my Span. A Quarter of an Hour may be reckoned the Eight and fortieth Part of a Day, a Day the Three hun⯑dred and ſixtieth Part of a Year, and a Year the Threeſcore and tenth Part of Life. By this moral Arithmetick, ſuppoſing a Man to be in the Talk⯑ing World one third Part of the Day, whoever gives another a Quarter of an Hour's Hearing, makes him a Sacrifice of more than the Four hun⯑dred thouſandth Part of his Converſable Life.

I would eſtabliſh but one great general Rule to be obſerved in all Converſation, which is this, That Men ſhould not talk to pleaſe themſelves, but thoſe that hear them. This would make them conſider, Whether what they ſpeak be worth Hearing? Whether there be either Wit or Senſe in what they are about to ſay? And, Whether it be adapted to the Time when, the Place where, and the Perſon to whom, it is ſpoken?

[335] For the utter Extirpation of theſe Orators and [...]ry-Tellers, which I look upon as very great [...]ts of Society, I have invented a Watch, which [...]ides the Minute into Twelve Parts, after the [...]e Manner that the ordinary Watches are di⯑ [...]ded into Hours; and will endeavour to get a [...]tent, which ſhall oblige every Club or Com⯑ [...]ny to provide themſelves with one of theſe [...]atches (that ſhall lie upon the Table as an [...]our-Glaſs is often placed near the Pulpit) to [...]eaſure out the Length of a Diſcourſe.

I ſhall be willing to allow a Man one Round of [...]y Watch, that is, a whole Minute to ſpeak in; [...]t if he exceeds that Time, it ſhall be lawful for [...]y of the Company to look upon the Watch, or [...] call him down to Order.

Provided however, That if any one can make [...] appear he is turned of Threeſcore, he may take [...]o, or, if he pleaſes, three Rounds of the Watch [...]ithout giving Offence. Provided alſo, That this [...]ule be not conſtrued to extend to the Fair Sex, [...]ho ſhall ſtill be at Liberty to talk by the ordi⯑ [...]ary Watch that is now in Uſe. I would likewiſe [...]rneſtly recommend this little Automaton, which [...]ay be eaſily carried in the Pocket without any [...]cumbrance, to all ſuch as are troubled with this [...]firmity of Speech, that upon pulling out their Watches, they may have frequent Occaſion to [...]onſider what they are doing, and by that Means [...]t the Thread of their Story ſhort, and hurry to [...] Concluſion. I ſhall only add, That this Watch, [...]ith a Paper of Directious how to uſe it, is ſold [...] Charles Lillie's.

I am afraid, a Tatler will be thought a very im⯑ [...]oper Paper to cenſure this Humour of being [...]alkative; but I would have my Readers know, [...]at there is a great Difference between Tattle and [...]oquacity, as I ſhall ſhow at large in a following [...]ucubration, it being my Deſign to throw away [336] a Candle upon that Subject, in order to expla the whole Art of Tattling in all its Branches as Subdiviſions.

Continuation of the Journal of the Court of Honour, &c.

AS ſoon as the Court was ſat, the Ladies of the Bench preſented, according to Order, a Table of all the Laws now in Force relating to Viſits and Viſiting-Days, methodically digeſted under their reſpective Heads, which the Cenſor ordered to be laid upon the Table, and after⯑wards proceeded upon the Buſineſs of the Day.

Henry Heedleſs Eſq was indicted by Colonel Touchy, of Her Majeſty's Trained-Bands, upon an Action of Aſſault and Battery; for that he the ſaid Mr. Heedleſs having eſpied a Feather upon the Shoulder of the ſaid Colonel, ſtruck it of gently with the End of a Walking-Staff, Value Three Pence. It appeared, That the Proſecutor did not think himſelf injured till a few Days after the aforeſaid Blow was given him; but that having ruminated with himſelf for ſeveral Days, and conferred upon it with other Officers of the Militia, he concluded, that he had in Ef⯑fect been cudgelled by Mr. Heedleſs, and that he ought to reſent it accordingly. The Council for the Proſecutor alledged, That the Shoulder was the tendereſt Part in a Man of Honour; That it [337] [...]ad a natural Antipathy to a Stick, and that [...]ery Touch of it, with any Thing made in the [...]aſhion of a Cane, was to be interpreted as a [...]ound in that Part, and a Violation of the Per⯑ [...]n's Honour who received it. Mr. Heedleſs re⯑ [...]lied, That what he had done was out of Kind⯑ [...]eſs to the Proſecutor, as not thinking it proper [...]r him to appear at the Head of the Trained- [...]ands with a Feather upon his Shoulder; and [...]rther added, That the Stick he had made uſe of [...]n this Occaſion was ſo very ſmall, that the Pro⯑ [...]cutor could not have felt it, had he broken it [...] his Shoulders. The Cenſor hereupon directed [...]e Jury to examine into the Nature of the Staff, [...]r that a great deal would depend upon that [...]rticular. Upon which he explained to them [...]e different Degrees of Offence that might be [...]iven by the Touch of Crab-tree from that of [...]ane, and by the Touch of Cane from that of [...] plain Hazle Stick. The Jury, after a ſhort Per⯑ [...]ſal of the Staff, declared their Opinion by the [...]outh of their Foreman, That the Subſtance of the [...]aff was Britiſh Oak. The Cenſor then obſer⯑ [...]ing that there was ſome Duſt on the Skirts of [...]e Criminal's Coat, ordered the Proſecutor to [...]eat it off with his aforeſaid Oaken Plant; and [...]us, ſaid the Cenſor, I ſhall decide this Cauſe [...] the Law of Retaliation: If Mr. Heedleſs did [...]e Colonel a good Office, the Colonel will by [...]is Means return it in Kind; but if Mr. Heedleſs [...]ould at any Time boaſt that he had cudgelled e Colonel, or laid his Staff over his Shoulders, [...]e Colonel might boaſt in his Turn, that he has [...]uſhed Mr. Heedleſs's Jacket, or (to uſe the [...]raſe of an ingenious Author) that he has rub⯑ [...]d him down with an Oaken Towel.

Benjamin Buſy, of London, Merchant, was in⯑ [...]ted by Jaſper Tattle Eſq for having pulled out [...] Watch and looked upon it thrice, while the [...]d Eſquire Tattle was giving him an Account [338] of the Funeral of the ſaid Eſquire Tattle's fir [...] Wife. The Priſoner alledged in his Defence [...] Tha [...] he was going to buy Stocks at the Tim [...] when he met the Proſecutor; and that, during the Story of the Proſecutor, the ſaid Stocks roe above Two per Cent. to the great Detriment of the Priſoner. The Priſoner further brought ſe⯑veral Witneſſes. That the ſaid Jaſper Tattle Eſq was a moſt notorious Story-Teller; That before he met the Priſoner, he had hindred one of the Priſoners Acquaintance from the Purſuit of his lawful Buſineſs, with the Account of his Second Marriage; and that he had detained ano⯑ther by the Button of his Coat that very Morn⯑ing, till he had heard ſeveral witty Sayings and Contrivances of the Proſecutor's eldeſt Son, who was a Boy of about Five Years of Age. Upon the whole Matter, Mr. Bickerſtaff diſmiſſed the Accuſation as frivolous, and ſentenced the Proſe⯑cutor to pay Damages to the Priſoner for what the Priſoner had loſt by giving him ſo long and patient an Hearing. He further reprimanded the Proſecutor very ſeverely, and told him, That if he proceeded in his uſual Manner to interrupt the Buſineſs of Mankind, he would ſet a Fi [...] upon him for every Quarter of an Hour's Imper⯑tinence, and regulate the ſaid Fine according [...] the Time of the Perſon ſo injured ſhould appear to be more or leſs precious.

Sir Paul Swaſh Kt. was indicted by Peter Double Gent. for not returning the Bow which he received of the ſaid Peter Double, on Wedneſday the 6 Inſtant, at the Play-houſe in the Hay-Market. The Priſoner denied the Receipt of any ſuch Bow, and alledged in his Defence, That the Profecutor would often times look full in his Face, but that when he bowed to the ſaid Proſecutor, he would take no notice of [...] or bow to ſome Body elſe that ſat quite on the othe [...] Side of him. He likewiſe alledged, That ſevera [...] Ladies had complained of the Proſecutor, wh [...] [339] [...]ter ogling them a Quarter of an Hour, upon [...]eir making a Courteſy to him, would not re⯑ [...]rn the Civility of a Bow. The Cenſor ob⯑ [...]erving ſeveral Glances of the Proſecutor's Eye, [...]nd perceiving, that when he talked to the Court, he looked upon the Jury, found Reaſon [...] ſuſpect that there was a wrong Caſt in his [...]ight, which upon Examination proved true. The Cenſor therefore ordered the Priſoner (that [...]e might not produce any more Confuſions in [...]ublick Aſſemblies) never to bow to any Body whom he did not at the ſame Time call to by his [...]ame.

Oliver Bluff, and Benjamin Browbeat, were in⯑ [...]icted for going to fight a Duel ſince the Erection [...]f the Court of Honour. It appeared, That they were both taken up in the Street as they paſſed [...]y the Court, in their Way to the Fields behind Mountague-Houſe. The Criminals would anſwer [...]othing for themſelves, but that they were go⯑ [...]ng to execute a Challenge which had been made [...]bove a Week before the Court of Honour was [...]rected. The Cenſor finding ſome Reaſons to [...]uſpect (by the Sturdineſs of their Behaviour) [...]hat they were not ſo very brave as they would [...]ave the Court believe them, ordered them both [...]o be ſearched by the Grand Jury, who found a [...]reaſt-Plate upon the one, and Two Quires of Pa⯑ [...]er upon the other. The Breaſt-Plate was immedi⯑ [...]tely order'd to be hung upon a Peg over Mr. Bick⯑ [...]rſtaff's Tribunal, and the Paper to be laid upon [...]he Table for the Uſe of his Clerk. He then or⯑ [...]ered the Criminals to button up their Boſoms, [...]nd, if they pleaſed, proceed to their Duel. Upon which they both went very quietly out [...]f the Court, and retired to their reſpective [...]odgings.

The Court then adjourned till after the Holidays.

IT would be a good Appendix to the Art of Li⯑ving and Dying, if any one would write the Art of Growing Old, and teach Men to reſign their Pretenſions to the Pleaſures and Gallantries of Youth, in Proportion to the Alteration they find in themſelves by the Approach of Age and Infirmities. The Infirmities of this Stage of Life would be much fewer, if we did not affect thoſe which attend the more vigorous and active Part of our Days; but inſtead of ſtudying to be wiſer, or being contented with our preſent Fol⯑lies, the Ambition of many of us is alſo to be the ſame Sort of Fools we formerly have been. I have often argued, as I am a profeſſed Lover of Women, that our Sex grows old with a much worſe Grace than the other does; and have ever been of Opinion, that there are more well-plea⯑ſed old Women than old Men. I thought it a good Reaſon for this, that the Ambition of the Fair Sex being confined to advantagious Mar⯑riages, or ſhining in the Eyes of Men, their Parts were over ſooner, and conſequently the Errors in the Performance of them. The Converſation of this Evening has not convinced me of the con⯑trary; for one or two Fop Women ſhall not make a Ballance for the Crowds of Coxcombs among our ſelves, diverſified according to the different Purſuits of Pleaſure and Buſineſs.

[341] Returning Home this Evening a little before my uſual Hour, I ſcarce had ſeated my ſelf in my Eaſy Chair, ſtirred the Fire, and ſtroaked my Cat, but I heard ſome Body come rumbling up Stairs. I ſaw my Door opened, and a Humane Figure ad⯑vancing towards me, ſo fantaſtically put together, 'twas ſome Minutes before I diſcovered it to be my old and intimate Friend Sam. Truſty. Imme⯑diately I roſe up, and placed him in my own Seat, a Compliment I pay to few. The firſt Thing he utter'd was, Iſaac, Fetch me a Cup of your Cherry-Brandy before you offer to ask me any Queſtion. He drunk a luſty Draught, ſat ſilent for ſome Time, and at laſt broke out; I am come (quoth he) to inſult Thee for an old fantaſtick Dotard as thou art in ever defending the Wo⯑men. I have this Evening viſited Two Widows, who are now in that State I have often heard you call an After-Life: I ſuppoſe you mean by it, an Exiſtence which grows out of paſt Enter⯑tainments, and is an untimely Delight in the Sa⯑tisfactions which they once ſet their Hearts upon too much to be ever able to relinquiſh. Have but Patience, (continued he) till I give you a ſuc⯑cinct Account of my Ladies, and of this Night's Adventure. They are much of an Age, but very different in their Characters: The one of them, with all the Advances which Years have made upon her, goes on in a certain Romantick Road of Love and Friendſhip which ſhe fell into in her Teens; the other has transferred the amo⯑rous Paſſions of her firſt Years to the Love of Cronies, Petts and Favourites, with which ſhe is always ſurrounded; but the Genius of each of them will beſt appear by the Account of what happened to me at their Houſes. About Five this Afternoon, being tired with Study, the Weather inviting, and Time lying a little upon my Hands, I reſolved, at the Inſtigation of my Evil Genius, to viſit them, their Husbands having been our [342] Contemporaries. This I thought I could do withou [...] much Trouble, for both live in the very nex [...] Street. I went firſt to my Lady Camomile, and the Butler, who had lived long in the Family, and ſeen me often in his Maſter's Time, uſhered me very civilly into the Parlour, and told me, Though my Lady had given ſtrict Orders to be denied, he was ſure I might be admitted, and bid the Black-Boy acquaint his Lady, that I was to wait upon her. In the Window lay Two Let⯑ters, one broke open, the other freſh ſealed with a Wafer: The firſt directed to the Divine Coſ⯑melia, the ſecond to the Charming Lucinda; but both, by the indented Characters, appeared to have been writ by very unſteady Hands. Such uncommon Addreſſes increaſed my Curioſity, and put me upon asking my old Friend the Butler, If he knew who thoſe Perſons were? Very well, ſays he: This is from Mrs. Furbiſh to my Lady, an old School-Fellow and great Crony of her La⯑dyſhip's, and this the Anſwer. I enquired in what Country ſhe lived. Oh dear! ſays he, but juſt by in the Neighbourhood. Why, ſhe was here all this Morning, and that Letter came and was anſwered within theſe Two Hours. They have taken an odd Fancy, you muſt know, to call one another hard Names, but for all that they love one another hugely. By this Time the Boy returned with his Lady's humble Service to me, deſiring I would excuſe her, for ſhe could not poſſibly ſee me, nor any Body elſe, for it was Opera Night.

Methinks, (ſays I) ſuch innocent Folly as Two old Women's Courtſhip to each other ſhould rather make you merry, than put you out of Humour. Peace, good Iſaac, (ſays he) no Inter⯑ruption I beſeech you. I got ſoon to Mrs. Fee⯑ble's, ſhe that was formerly Betty Frisk; you muſt needs remember het, Tom. Feeble of Brazen-Noſe fell in Love with her for her fine Dancing. [343] Well, Mrs. Urſula, without further Ceremony, carries me directly up to her Miſtreſs's Chamber, where I found her environ'd by Four of the moſt miſchievous Animals that can ever infeſt a Fa⯑mily: An old Shock Dog with one Eye, a Mon⯑key chaned to one Side of the Chimney, a great grey Squirrel to the other, and a Parrat wad⯑dling in the middle of the Room. However, for a while, all was in a profound Tranquillity. Upon the Mantle-Tree, for I am a pretty curious Obſerver, ſtood a Pot of Lambetive Electuary, with a Stick of Liquoriſh, and near it a Phyal of Roſe-Water and Powder of Tutty. Upon the Table lay a Pipe filled with Bettony and Colts-Foot, a Roll of Wax-Candle, a Silver Spitting-Pot, and a Seville Orange. The Lady was pla⯑ced in a large Wicker Chair, and her Feet wrap⯑ped up in Flannel, ſupported by Cuſhions; and in this Attitude (would you believe it Iſaac) was ſhe reading a Romance with Spectacles on. The firſt Compliments over, as ſhe was induſtri⯑ouſly endeavouring to enter upon Converſation, a violent Fit of Coughing ſeized her. This a⯑wakened Shock, and in a Trice the whole Room was in an Uproar; for the Dog barked, the Squirrel ſquealed, the Monkey chattered, the Parrat ſcreamed, and Urſula, to appeaſe them, was more clamorous than all the reſt. You Iſaac, who know how any harſh Noiſe affects my Head, may gueſs what I ſuffered from the hi⯑deous Din of theſe diſcordant Sounds. At length all was appeaſed, and Quiet reſtored: A Chair was drawn for me, where I was no ſooner ſeat⯑ed, but the Parrat fixed his Horny Beak, as ſharp as a Pair of Sheers, in one of my Heels, juſt above the Shoe. I ſprung from the Place with an unuſual Agility, and ſo being within the Monkey's Reach, he ſnatches off my n [...]w Bob Wig, and throws it upon Two Apples that were roaſting by a ſullen Sea-Coal Fire. I was [344] nimble enough to ſave it from any further Da⯑mage than ſingeing the Foretop. I put it on, and compoſing my ſelf as well as I could, I drew my Chair towards the other Side of the Chim⯑ney. The good Lady, as ſoon as ſhe had reco⯑vered Breath, employed it in making a Thouſand Apologies, and with great Eloquence, and a nu⯑merous Train of Words, lamented my Misfor⯑tune. In the middle of her Harangue, I felt ſomething ſcratching near my Knee, and feeling what it ſhould be, found the Squirrel had got in⯑to my Coat-Pocket. As I endeavoured to re⯑move him from his Burrow, he made his Teeth meet through the Fleſhy Part of my Fore-Finger. This gave me an unexpreſſible Pain. The Hun⯑gary Water was immediately brought to bath it, and Gold-beaters Skin applied to ſtop the Blood. The Lady renewed her Excuſes; but being now out of all Patience, I abruptly took my Leave, and hobbling down Stairs with heedleſs Haſt, I ſet my Foot full in a Pail of Water, and down we came to the Bottom together. Here my Friend concluded his Narrative, and, with a compoſed Countenance, I began to make him Compliments of Condoleance; but he ſtarted from his Chair, and ſaid, Iſaac, you may ſpare your Speeches, I expect no Reply: When I told you this, I knew you would laugh at me; but the next Wo⯑man that makes me ridiculous ſhall be a young one.

I Have heard, that it is a Rule among the Con⯑ventuals of ſeveral Orders in the Romiſh Church, to ſhut themſelves up at a certain Time of the Year, not only from the World in general, but from the Members of their own Fraternity, and to paſs away ſeveral Days by themſelves in ſettling Accounts between their Maker and their own Souls, in cancelling unrepented Crimes, and renewing their Contracts of Obedience for the future. Such ſtated Times for particular Acts of Devotion, or the Exerciſe of certain religious Duties, have been enjoined in all civil Govern⯑ments, whatever Deity they worſhipped, or whatever Religion they profeſſed. That which may be done at all Times, is often totally neg⯑lected and forgotten, unleſs fixed and determin⯑ed to ſome Time more than another; and there⯑fore, though ſeveral Duties may be ſuitable to every Day of our Lives, they are moſt likely to be performed if ſome Days are more particularly ſet apart for the Practice of them. Our Church has accordingly inſtituted ſeveral Seaſons of De⯑votion, when Time, Cuſtom, Preſcription, and (if I may ſo ſay) the Faſhion it ſelf, call upon a Man to be ſerious and attentive to the great End of his Being.

[346] I have hinted in ſome former Papers, that the greateſt and wiſeſt of Men in all Ages and Coun⯑tries, particularly in Rome and Greece, were re⯑nowned for their Piety and Virtue. It is now my Intention to ſhow how thoſe in our own Na⯑tion, that have been unqueſtionably the moſt eminent for Learning and Knowledge, were likewiſe the moſt eminent for their Adherence to the Religion of their Country.

I might produce very ſhining Examples from among the Clergy; but becauſe Prieſtcraft is the common Cry of every cavelling empty Scribbler, I ſhall ſhow, that all the Laymen who have ex⯑erted a more than ordinary Genius in their Wri⯑tings, and were the Glory of their Times, were Men whoſe Hopes were filled with Immortality, and the Proſpect of future Rewards, and Men who lived in a dutiful Submiſſion to all the Do⯑ctrines of Revealed Religion.

I ſhall in this Paper only inſtance Sir Francis Bacon, a Man who for the Greatneſs of Genius, and Compaſs of Knowledge, did Honour to his Age and Country; I could almoſt ſay to Hu⯑mane Nature it ſelf. He poſſeſſed at once all thoſe extraordinary Talents which were divided amongſt the greateſt Authors of Antiquity. He had the ſound, diſtinct, comprehenſive Know⯑ledge of Ariſtotle, with all the beautiful Lights, Graces and Embelliſhments, of Cicero. One does not know which to admire moſt in his Writings, the Strength of Reaſon, Force of Style, or Bright⯑neſs of Imagination.

This Author has remarked in ſeveral Parts of his Works, that a thorough Infight into Phi⯑loſophy makes a good Believer, and that a Smat⯑tering in it naturally produces ſuch a Race of deſpicable Infidels as the little profligate Wri⯑ters of the preſent Age, whom (I muſt confeſs) I have always accuſed to my ſelf, not ſo much for their Want of Faith as their Want of Learn⯑ing.

[347] I was infinitely pleaſed to find among the Works of this extraordinary Man a Prayer of his own compoſing, which, for the Elevation of Thought, and Greatneſs of Expreſſion, ſeems ra⯑ther the Devotion of an Angel than a Man. His principal Fault ſeems to have been the Exceſs of that Virtue which covers a Multitude of Faults. This betrayed him to ſo great an Indulgence to⯑wards his Servants, who made a corrupt Uſe of it, that it ſtrip'd him of all thoſe Riches and Honours which a long Series of Merits had heaped upon him. But in this Prayer, at the ſame Time that we find him proſtrating himſelf before the great Mercy-Seat, and humbled un⯑der Afflictions which at that Time lay heavy up⯑on him, we ſee him ſupported by the Senſe of his Integrity, his Zeal, his Devotion, and his Love to Mankind, which give him a much higher Figure in the Minds of Thinking Men, than that Greatneſs had done from which he was fallen. I ſhall beg Leave to write down the Prayer it ſelf, with the Title to it, as it was found among his Lordſhip's Papers, written in his own Hand; not being able to furniſh my Reader with an Entertainment more ſuitable to this ſolemn Time.

AT my coming Home laſt Night, I found upon my Table the following Petition or Project, ſent me from Lloyd's Coffee-houſe in the City, with a Preſent of Port Wine, which [350] had been bought at a late Auction held in that Place.

I do heartily concur with my ingenious Friends of the above-mentioned Coffee-houſe in theſe their Propoſals; and becauſe I apprehend there may be Reaſons to put an immediate Stop to the Grie⯑vance complained of, it is my Intention, That, till ſuch Time as the aforeſaid Pulpits can be e⯑rected, every Orator do place himſelf within the Bar, and from thence dictate whatſoever he ſhall think neceſſary for the publick Good.

[352] And further, becauſe I am very deſirous th [...] proper Ways and Means ſhould be found out f [...] the ſuppreſſing of Story-Tellers and fine Talke [...] in all ordinary Converſation whatſoever, I do i [...] ⯑ſiſt, That in every private Club, Company, [...] Meeting over a Bottle, there be always an Elbo [...] Chair placed at the Table, and that as ſoon a [...] any one begins a long Story, or extends his Di [...] ⯑courſe beyond the Space of one Minute, he [...] forthwith thruſt into the ſaid Elbow Chair, [...] leſs upon any of the Company's calling out t [...] the Chair, he breaks off abruptly, and holds hi [...] Tongue.

There are Two Species of Men, notwithſtand⯑ing any Thing that has been here ſaid, whom [...] would exempt from the Diſgrace of the Elbo [...] Chair. The Firſt are thoſe Buffoons that have [...] Talent of mimicking the Speech and Behaviou [...] of other Perſons, and turning all their Patron [...] Friends and Acquaintance, into Ridicule. I loo [...] upon your Pantomime as a Legion in a Man, or at leaſt to be like Virgil's Monſter, with an Hun⯑dred Mouths and as many Tongues.

And therefore would give him as much Time to talk in, as would be allowed to the whole Body of Perſons he repreſents, were they actually in the Company which they divert by Proxy. Pro⯑vided however, That the ſaid Pantomime do not, upon any Pretence whatſoever, utter any Thing in his own particular Opinion, Language, or Cha⯑racter.

I would likewiſe in the Second Place grant an Exemption from the Elbow Chair to any Perſon who treats the Company, and by that Means may be ſuppoſed to pay for his Audience. A Gueſt cannot take it ill if he be not allowed to talk in his Turn by a Perſon who puts his Mouth to a better Employment, and ſtops it with good Beef [353] and Mutton. In this Caſe the Gueſt is very a⯑greeably ſilenced, and ſeems to hold his Tongue under that Kind of Bribery which the Ancients called, Bos in Lingua.

If I can once extirpate the Race of ſolid and ſubſtantial Humdrums, I hope by my whole⯑ſome and repeated Advices, quickly to reduce the inſignificant Tittle-tattles and Matter-of-Fact-Men that abound in every Quarter of this great City.

Epictetus, in his little Syſtem of Morality, pre⯑ſcribes the following Rule with that beautiful Simplicity which ſhines through all his Precepts. Beware that thou never tell thy Dreams in Compa⯑ny; for notwithſtanding thou may'ſt take a Pleaſure in Telling thy Dreams, the Company will take no Pleaſure in Hearing them.

This Rule is conformable to a Maxim which I have laid down in a late Paper, and muſt always inculcate into thoſe of my Readers who find in themſelves an Inclination to be very talkative and impertinent, That they ſhould not ſpeak to pleaſe themſelves, but thoſe that hear them.

It has been often obſerved by witty Eſſay-Wri⯑ters, That the deepeſt Waters are always the moſt ſilent; That empty Veſſels make the greateſt Sound, and tinckling Cymbals the worſt Muſick. The Marqueſs of Hallifax, in his admirable Ad⯑vice to a Daughter, tells her, That good Senſe has always ſomething ſullen in it: But as Sullen⯑neſs does not only imply Silence, but an ill-natured Silence, I wiſh his Lordſhip had given a ſofter Name to it. Since I am engaged unawares in Quotations, I muſt not omit the Satyr which Horace has written againſt this impertinent talka⯑tive Companion, and which, I think, is fuller of Humour than any other Satyr he has written. This great Author, who had the niceſt Taſt of Converſation, and was himſelf a moſt agreeable Companion, had ſo ſtrong an Antipathy to a great [354] Talker, that he was afraid ſome Time or other [...] would be mortal to him, as he has very humo [...] ⯑rouſly deſcribed it in his Converſation with [...] impertinent Fellow who had like to have be [...] the Death of him.

Thus tranſlated by Mr. Oldham:

I Find my Correſpondents are univerſally of⯑fended at me for taking Notice ſo ſeldom of their Letters, and fear People have taken the Ad⯑vantage of my Silence to go on in their Errors; for which Reaſon I ſhall hereafter be more care⯑ful to anſwer all lawful Queſtions and juſt Com⯑plaints as ſoon as they come to my Hands. The Two following Epiſtles relate to very great Mis⯑chiefs in the moſt important Articles of Life, Love, and Friendſhip.

The Caſe of Ebenozer is a very common one, and is always cured by Neglect. Theſe fantaſtical Returns of Affection proceed from a certain Va⯑nity in the other Sex, ſupported by a perverted Taſt in ours. I muſt publiſh it as a Rule, That no Faults which proceed from the Will, either in a Miſtreſs or a Friend, are to be tolerated: But we ſhould be ſo complaiſant to Ladies, to let them diſpleaſe when they aim at doing it. Pluck up a Spirit, Ebenezer, recover the Uſe of your Judgment, and her Faults will appear, or her Beauties vaniſh. Her Faults begin to pleaſe me as well as my own, is a Sentence very prettily put into the Mouth of a Lover by the Comick Poet; but he never deſigned it for a Maxim of Life, but the Picture of an Imperfection. If Ebenezer takes my [358] Advice, the ſame Temper which made her inſo⯑lent to his Love, will make her ſubmiſſive to hi [...] Indifference.

I cannot wholly aſcribe the Faults mentioned i [...] the Second Letter to the ſame Vanity or Prid [...] in Companions who ſecretly triumph over thei [...] Friends, in being ſharp upon them in Thing [...] where they are moſt tender. But when this for [...] of Behaviour does not proceed from that Source [...] it does from Barrenneſs of Invention, and an In⯑ability to ſupport a Converſation in a Way leſs offenſive. It is the ſame Poverty which makes Men ſpeak or write ſmuttily, that forces them to talk vexingly. As obſcene Language is an Ad⯑dreſs to the Lewd for Applauſe, ſo are ſharp Al⯑luſions an Appeal to the Ill-natured. But mean and illiterate is that Converſation where one Man exerciſes his Wit to make another exerciſe his Patience.