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The Spectator, Volumes 1, 2 and 3 by Joseph Addison and Richard Steele

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of the Policies of this Court; and find there is now before them a very
refractory Person who has escaped all their Machinations for two Years
last past: But they have prevented two successive Matches which were of
his own Inclination, the one, by a Report that his Mistress was to be
married, and the very Day appointed, Wedding-Clothes bought, and all
things ready for her being given to another; the second time, by
insinuating to all his Mistresss Friends and Acquaintance, that he had
been false to several other Women, and the like. The poor Man is now
reduced to profess he designs to lead a single Life; but the Inquisition
gives out to all his Acquaintance, that nothing is intended but the
Gentleman's own Welfare and Happiness. When this is urged, he talks
still more humbly, and protests he aims only at a Life without Pain or
Reproach; Pleasure, Honour or Riches, are things for which he has no
taste. But notwithstanding all this and what else he may defend himself
with, as that the Lady is too old or too young, of a suitable Humour, or
the quite contrary, and that it is impossible they can ever do other
than wrangle from June to January, Every Body tells him all this is
Spleen, and he must have a Wife; while all the Members of the
Inquisition are unanimous in a certain Woman for him, and they think
they all together are better able to judge, than he or any other private
Person whatsoever.

Temple, March 3, 1711.

Your Speculation this Day on the Subject of Idleness, has employed me,
ever since I read it, in sorrowful Reflections on my having loitered
away the Term (or rather the Vacation) of ten Years in this Place, and
unhappily suffered a good Chamber and Study to lie idle as long. My
Books (except those I have taken to sleep upon) have been totally
neglected, and my Lord Coke and other venerable Authors were never so
slighted in their Lives. I spent most of the Day at a Neighbouring
Coffee-House, where we have what I may call a lazy Club. We generally
come in Night-Gowns, with our Stockings about our Heels, and sometimes
but one on. Our Salutation at Entrance is a Yawn and a Stretch, and
then without more Ceremony we take our Place at the Lolling Table;
where our Discourse is, what I fear you would not read out, therefore
shall not insert. But I assure you, Sir, I heartily lament this Loss
of Time, and am now resolved (if possible, with double Diligence) to
retrieve it, being effectually awakened by the Arguments of Mr. Slack
out of the Senseless Stupidity that has so long possessed me. And to
demonstrate that Penitence accompanies my Confession, and Constancy my
Resolutions, I have locked my Door for a Year, and desire you would
let my Companions know I am not within. I am with great Respect,

SIR, Your most obedient Servant,

N. B.


[Footnote 1:

Hae sunt qui tenui sudant in Cyclade.


* * * * *

No. 321.[1] Saturday, March 8, 1712. Addison.

Nec satis est pulchra esse poemata, dulcia sunto.


Those, who know how many Volumes have been written on the Poems of Homer
and Virgil, will easily pardon the Length of my Discourse upon Milton.
The Paradise Lost is looked upon, by the best Judges, as the greatest
Production, or at least the noblest Work of Genius in our Language, and
therefore deserves to be set before an English Reader in its full
Beauty. For this Reason, tho I have endeavoured to give a general Idea
of its Graces and Imperfections in my Six First Papers, I thought my
self obliged to bestow one upon every Book in particular. The Three
first Books I have already dispatched, and am now entering upon the
Fourth. I need not acquaint my Reader that there are Multitudes of
Beauties in this great Author, especially in the Descriptive Parts of
his Poem, which I have not touched upon, it being my Intention to point
out those only, which appear to me the most exquisite, or those which
are not so obvious to ordinary Readers. Every one that has read the
Criticks who have written upon the Odyssey, the Iliad and the Aeneid,
knows very well, that though they agree in their Opinions of the great
Beauties in those Poems, they have nevertheless each of them discovered
several Master-Strokes, which have escaped the Observation of the rest.
In the same manner, I question not, but any Writer who shall treat of
this Subject after me, may find several Beauties in Milton, which I have
not taken notice of. I must likewise observe, that as the greatest
Masters of Critical Learning differ among one another, as to some
particular Points in an Epic Poem, I have not bound my self scrupulously
to the Rules which any one of them has laid down upon that Art, but have
taken the Liberty sometimes to join with one, and sometimes with
another, and sometimes to differ from all of them, when I have thought
that the Reason of the thing was on my side.

We may consider the Beauties of the Fourth Book under three Heads. In
the first are those Pictures of Still-Life, which we meet with in the
Description of Eden, Paradise, Adams Bower, &c. In the next are the
Machines, which comprehend the Speeches and Behaviour of the good and
bad Angels. In the last is the Conduct of Adam and Eve, who are the
Principal Actors in the Poem.

In the Description of Paradise, the Poet has observed Aristotle's Rule
of lavishing all the Ornaments of Diction on the weak unactive Parts of
the Fable, which are not supported by the Beauty of Sentiments and
Characters. [2] Accordingly the Reader may observe, that the Expressions
are more florid and elaborate in these Descriptions, than in most other
Parts of the Poem. I must further add, that tho the Drawings of
Gardens, Rivers, Rainbows, and the like dead Pieces of Nature, are
justly censured in an Heroic Poem, when they run out into an unnecessary
length; the Description of Paradise would have been faulty, had not the
Poet been very particular in it, not only as it is the Scene of the
Principal Action, but as it is requisite to give us an Idea of that
Happiness from which our first Parents fell. The Plan of it is
wonderfully Beautiful, and formed upon the short Sketch which we have of
it in Holy Writ. Milton's Exuberance of Imagination has poured forth
such a Redundancy of Ornaments on this Seat of Happiness and Innocence,
that it would be endless to point out each Particular.

I must not quit this Head, without further observing, that there is
scarce a Speech of Adam or Eve in the whole Poem, wherein the Sentiments
and Allusions are not taken from this their delightful Habitation. The
Reader, during their whole Course of Action, always finds himself in the
Walks of Paradise. In short, as the Criticks have remarked, that in
those Poems, wherein Shepherds are Actors, the Thoughts ought always to
take a Tincture from the Woods, Fields and Rivers, so we may observe,
that our first Parents seldom lose Sight of their happy Station in any
thing they speak or do; and, if the Reader will give me leave to use the
Expression, that their Thoughts are always Paradisiacal.

We are in the next place to consider the Machines of the Fourth Book.
Satan being now within Prospect of Eden, and looking round upon the
Glories of the Creation, is filled with Sentiments different from those
which he discovered whilst he was in Hell. The Place inspires him with
Thoughts more adapted to it: He reflects upon the happy Condition from
which he fell, and breaks forth into a Speech that is softned with
several transient Touches of Remorse and Self-accusation: But at length
he confirms himself in Impenitence, and in his Design of drawing Man
into his own State of Guilt and Misery. This Conflict of Passions is
raised with a great deal of Art, as the opening of his Speech to the Sun
is very bold and noble.

O thou that with surpassing Glory crown'd,
Look'st from thy sole Dominion like the God
Of this new World; at whose Sight all the Stars
Hide their diminish'd Heads; to thee I call,
But with no friendly Voice, and add thy name,
O Sun! to tell thee how I hate thy beams,
That bring to my Remembrance from what State
I fell, how glorious once above thy Sphere.

This Speech is, I think, the finest that is ascribed to Satan in the
whole Poem. The Evil Spirit afterwards proceeds to make his Discoveries
concerning our first Parents, and to learn after what manner they may be
best attacked. His bounding over the Walls of Paradise; his sitting in
the Shape of a Cormorant upon the Tree of Life, which stood in the
Center of it, and overtopped all the other Trees of the Garden, his
alighting among the Herd of Animals, which are so beautifully
represented as playing about Adam and Eve, together with his
transforming himself into different Shapes, in order to hear their
Conversation, are Circumstances that give an agreeable Surprize to the
Reader, and are devised with great Art, to connect that Series of
Adventures in which the Poet has engaged [this [3]] Artificer of Fraud.

The Thought of Satan's Transformation into a Cormorant, and placing
himself on the Tree of Life, seems raised upon that Passage in the
Iliad, where two Deities are described, as perching on the Top of an Oak
in the shape of Vulturs.

His planting himself at the Ear of Eve under the [form [4]] of a Toad,
in order to produce vain Dreams and Imaginations, is a Circumstance of
the same Nature; as his starting up in his own Form is wonderfully fine,
both in the Literal Description, and in the Moral which is concealed
under it. His Answer upon his being discovered, and demanded to give an
Account of himself, [is [5]] conformable to the Pride and Intrepidity of
his Character.

Know ye not then, said Satan, fill'd with Scorn,
Know ye not Me? ye knew me once no mate
For you, there sitting where you durst not soar;
Not to know Me argues your selves unknown,
The lowest of your throng;--

Zephon's Rebuke, with the Influence it had on Satan, is exquisitely
Graceful and Moral. Satan is afterwards led away to Gabriel, the chief
of the Guardian Angels, who kept watch in Paradise. His disdainful
Behaviour on this Occasion is so remarkable a Beauty, that the most
ordinary Reader cannot but take Notice of it. Gabriel's discovering his
Approach at a Distance, is drawn with great strength and liveliness of

O Friends, I hear the tread of nimble Feet
Hasting this Way, and now by glimps discern
Ithuriel and Zephon through the shade;
And with them comes a third of Regal Port,
But faded splendor wan; who by his gait
And fierce demeanor seems the Prince of Hell;
Not likely to part hence without contest:
Stand firm, for in his look defiance lours.

The Conference between Gabriel and Satan abounds with Sentiments proper
for the Occasion, and suitable to the Persons of the two Speakers. Satan
cloathing himself with Terror when he prepares for the Combat is truly
sublime, and at least equal to Homers Description of Discord celebrated
by Longinus, or to that of Fame in Virgil, who are both represented with
their Feet standing upon the Earth, and their Heads reaching above the

While thus he spake, th' Angelic Squadron bright
Turn'd fiery red, sharpning in mooned Horns
Their Phalanx, and began to hem him round
With ported Spears, &c.

--On the other side Satan alarm'd,
Collecting all his might dilated stood
Like Teneriff, or Atlas, unremov'd.
His Stature reached the Sky, and on his Crest
Sat horror plum'd;--

I must here take [notice, [6]] that Milton is every where full of Hints
and sometimes literal Translations, taken from the greatest of the Greek
and Latin Poets. But this I may reserve for a Discourse by it self,
because I would not break the Thread of these Speculations, that are
designed for English Readers, with such Reflections as would be of no
use but to the Learned.

I must however observe in this Place, that the breaking off the Combat
between Gabriel and Satan, by the hanging out of the Golden Scales in
Heaven, is a Refinement upon Homers Thought, who tells us, that before
the Battle between Hector and Achilles, Jupiter weighed the Event of it
in a pair of Scales. The Reader may see the whole Passage in the 22nd

Virgil, before the last decisive Combat, describes Jupiter in the same
manner, as weighing the Fates of Turnus and AEneas. Milton, though he
fetched this beautiful Circumstance from the Iliad and AEneid, does not
only insert it as a Poetical Embellishment, like the Authors
above-mentioned; but makes an artful use of it for the proper carrying
on of his Fable, and for the breaking off the Combat between the two
Warriors, who were upon the point of engaging. [To this we may further
add, that Milton is the more justified in this Passage, as we find the
same noble Allegory in Holy Writ, where a wicked Prince, some few Hours
before he was assaulted and slain, is said to have been weighed in the
Scales, and to have been found wanting.]

I must here take Notice under the Head of the Machines, that Uriel's
gliding down to the Earth upon a Sunbeam, with the Poets Device to make
him descend, as well in his return to the Sun, as in his coming from it,
is a Prettiness that might have been admired in a little fanciful Poet,
but seems below the Genius of Milton. The Description of the Host of
armed Angels walking their nightly Round in Paradise, is of another

So saying, on he led his radiant files,
Dazling the Moon;--

as that Account of the Hymns which our first Parents used to hear them
sing in these their Midnight Walks, is altogether Divine, and
inexpressibly amusing to the Imagination.

We are, in the last place, to consider the Parts which Adam and Eve act
in the Fourth Book. The Description of them as they first appeared to
Satan, is exquisitely drawn, and sufficient to make the fallen Angel
gaze upon them with all that Astonishment, and those Emotions of Envy,
in which he is represented.

Two of far nobler Shape erect and tall,
God-like erect! with native honour clad
In naked Majesty, seem'd lords of all;
And worthy seem'd: for in their looks divine
The image of their glorious Maker shon,
Truth, Wisdom, Sanctitude severe and pure;
Severe, but in true filial freedom plac'd:
For contemplation he and valour form'd,
For softness she and sweet attractive grace;
He for God only, she for God in him.
His fair large front, and eye sublime, declar'd
Absolute rule; and Hyacinthin Locks
Round from his parted forelock manly hung
Clustring, but not beneath his Shoulders broad.
She, as a Veil, down to her slender waste
Her unadorned golden tresses wore
Dis-shevel'd, but in wanton ringlets wav'd.
So pass'd they naked on, nor shun'd the Sight
Of God or Angel, for they thought no ill:
So hand in hand they passed, the loveliest pair
That ever since in loves embraces met.

There is a fine Spirit of Poetry in the Lines which follow, wherein they
are described as sitting on a Bed of Flowers by the side of a Fountain,
amidst a mixed Assembly of Animals.

The Speeches of these two first Lovers flow equally from Passion and
Sincerity. The Professions they make to one another are full of Warmth:
but at the same time founded on Truth. In a Word, they are the
Gallantries of Paradise:

--When Adam first of Men--
Sole partner and sole part of all these joys,
Dearer thy self than all;--
But let us ever praise him, and extol
His bounty, following our delightful Task,
To prune these growing plants, and tend these flowrs;
Which were it toilsome, yet with thee were sweet.

To whom thus Eve reply'd. O thou for whom,
And from whom I was form'd, flesh of thy flesh,
And without whom am to no end, my Guide
And Head, what thou hast said is just and right.
For we to him indeed all praises owe.
And daily thanks; I chiefly, who enjoy
So far the happier Lot, enjoying thee
Preeminent by so much odds, while thou
Like consort to thy self canst no where find, &c.

The remaining part of Eves Speech, in which she gives an Account of her
self upon her first Creation, and the manner in which she was brought to
Adam, is I think as beautiful a Passage as any in Milton, or perhaps in
any other Poet whatsoever. These Passages are all worked off with so
much Art, that they are capable of pleasing the most delicate Reader,
without offending the most severe.

That Day I oft remember, when from Sleep, &c.

A Poet of less Judgment and Invention than this great Author, would have
found it very difficult to have filled [these [7]] tender Parts of the
Poem with Sentiments proper for a State of Innocence; to have described
the Warmth of Love, and the Professions of it, without Artifice or
Hyperbole: to have made the Man speak the most endearing things, without
descending from his natural Dignity, and the Woman receiving them
without departing from the Modesty of her Character; in a Word, to
adjust the Prerogatives of Wisdom and Beauty, and make each appear to
the other in its proper Force and Loveliness. This mutual Subordination
of the two Sexes is wonderfully kept up in the whole Poem, as
particularly in the Speech of Eve I have before mentioned, and upon the
Conclusion of it in the following Lines.

So spake our general Mother, and with eyes
Of Conjugal attraction unreproved,
And meek surrender, half embracing lean'd
On our first father; half her swelling breast
Naked met his under the flowing Gold
Of her loose tresses hid: he in delight
Both of her beauty and submissive charms
Smil'd with superior Love.--

The Poet adds, that the Devil turned away with Envy at the sight of so
much Happiness.

We have another View of our first Parents in their Evening Discourses,
which is full of pleasing Images and Sentiments suitable to their
Condition and Characters. The Speech of Eve, in particular, is dressed
up in such a soft and natural Turn of Words and Sentiments, as cannot be
sufficiently admired.

I shall close my Reflections upon this Book, with observing the Masterly
Transition which the Poet makes to their Evening Worship in the
following Lines.

Thus at their shady Lodge arriv'd, both stood,
Both turn'd, and under open Sky, ador'd
The God that made both [Sky,] Air, Earth and Heaven,
Which they beheld, the Moons resplendent Globe,
And Starry Pole: Thou also madst the Night,
Maker Omnipotent, and thou the Day, &c.

Most of the Modern Heroick Poets have imitated the Ancients, in
beginning a Speech without premising, that the Person said thus or thus;
but as it is easie to imitate the Ancients in the Omission of two or
three Words, it requires Judgment to do it in such a manner as they
shall not be missed, and that the Speech may begin naturally without
them. There is a fine Instance of this Kind out of Homer, in the Twenty
Third Chapter of Longinus.


[Footnote 1: From this date to the end of the series the Saturday papers
upon Milton exceed the usual length of a Spectator essay. That they may
not occupy more than the single leaf of the original issue, they are
printed in smaller type; the columns also, when necessary, encroach on
the bottom margin of the paper, and there are few advertisements

[Footnote 2: At the end of the third Book of the Poetics.

The diction should be most laboured in the idle parts of the poem;
those in which neither manners nor sentiments prevail; for the manners
and the sentiments are only obscured by too splendid a diction.]

[Footnote 3: [this great]]

[Footnote 4: [shape]]

[Footnote 5: [are]]

[Footnote 6: notice by the way]

[Footnote 7: [those]]

* * * * *



The Author of the Spectator having prefixed before each of his Volumes
the Name of some great Person to whom he has particular Obligations,
lays his Claim to your Lordships Patronage upon the same Account. I
must confess, my Lord, had not I already received great Instances of
your Favour, I should have been afraid of submitting a Work of this
Nature to your Perusal. You are so thoroughly acquainted with the
Characters of Men, and all the Parts of human Life, that it is
impossible for the least Misrepresentation of them to escape your
Notice. It is Your Lordships particular Distinction that you are Master
of the whole Compass of Business, and have signalized Your Self in all
the different Scenes of it. We admire some for the Dignity, others for
the Popularity of their Behaviour; some for their Clearness of Judgment,
others for their Happiness of Expression; some for the laying of
Schemes, and others for the putting of them in Execution: It is Your
Lordship only who enjoys these several Talents united, and that too in
as great Perfection as others possess them singly. Your Enemies
acknowledge this great Extent in your Lordships Character, at the same
time that they use their utmost Industry and Invention to derogate from
it. But it is for Your Honour that those who are now Your Enemies were
always so. You have acted in so much Consistency with Your Self, and
promoted the Interests of your Country in so uniform a Manner, that even
those who would misrepresent your Generous Designs for the Publick Good,
cannot but approve the Steadiness and Intrepidity with which You pursue
them. It is a most sensible Pleasure to me that I have this Opportunity
of professing my self one of your great Admirers, and, in a very
particular Manner,

Your Lordships
Most Obliged,
And most Obedient,
Humble Servant,

[Footnote 1: This is the Thomas, Earl of Wharton, who in 1708 became
Lord-lieutenant of Ireland, and took Addison for his Chief Secretary. He
was the son of Philip, Baron Wharton, a firm Presbyterian, sometimes
called the good Lord Wharton, to distinguish him from his son and
grandson. Philip Wharton had been an opponent of Stuart encroachments, a
friend of Algernon Sidney, and one of the first men to welcome William
III. to England. He died, very old, in 1694. His son Thomas did not
inherit the religious temper of his father, and even a dedication could
hardly have ventured to compliment him on his private morals. But he was
an active politician, was with his father in the secret of the landing
of the Prince of Orange, and was made by William Comptroller of the
Household. Thwarted in his desire to become a Secretary of State, he
made himself formidable as a bold, sarcastic speaker and by the strength
of his parliamentary interest. He is said to have returned at one time
thirty members, and to have spent eighty thousand pounds upon the
maintenance of his political position. He was apt, by his manners, to
make friends of the young men of influence. He spent money freely also
on the turf, and upon his seat of Winchenden, in Wilts. Queen Anne, on
her accession, struck his name with her own hand from the list of Privy
Councillors, but he won his way not only to restoration of that rank,
but also in December, 1706, at the age of 67, to his title of Viscount
Winchendon and Earl of Wharton. In November, 1708, he became
Lord-lieutenant of Ireland, with Addison for secretary. He took over
with him also Clayton the musician, and kept a gay court, easily
accessible, except to Roman Catholics, whom he would not admit to his
presence, and against whom he enforced the utmost rigour of the penal
code. He had himself conformed to the Church of England. Swift accused
him, as Lord-lieutenant, of shameless depravity of manners, of
injustice, greed, and gross venality. This Lord Wharton died in 1715,
and was succeeded by his son Philip, whom George I., in 1718, made Duke
of Wharton for his fathers vigorous support of the Hanoverian
succession. His character was much worse than that of his father, the
energetic politician and the man of cultivated taste and ready wit to
whom Steele and Addison here dedicated the Fifth Volume of the

* * * * *

No. 322. Monday, March 10, 1712. Steele.

Ad humum maerore gravi deducit et angit.


It is often said, after a Man has heard a Story with extraordinary
Circumstances, It is a very good one if it be true: But as for the
following Relation, I should be glad were I sure it were false. It is
told with such Simplicity, and there are so many artless Touches of
Distress in it, that I fear it comes too much from the Heart.

Mr. SPECTATOR, Some Years ago it happened that I lived in the same
House with a young Gentleman of Merit; with whose good Qualities I was
so much taken, as to make it my Endeavour to shew as many as I was
able in my self. Familiar Converse improved general Civilities into an
unfeigned Passion on both Sides. He watched an Opportunity to declare
himself to me; and I, who could not expect a Man of so great an Estate
as his, received his Addresses in such Terms, as gave him no reason to
believe I was displeased by them, tho I did nothing to make him think
me more easy than was decent. His Father was a very hard worldly Man,
and proud; so that there was no reason to believe he would easily be
brought to think there was any thing in any Woman's Person or
Character that could ballance the Disadvantage of an unequal Fortune.
In the mean time the Son continued his Application to me, and omitted
no Occasion of demonstrating the most disinterested Passion imaginable
to me; and in plain direct Terms offer'd to marry me privately, and
keep it so till he should be so happy as to gain his Fathers
Approbation, or become possessed of his Estate. I passionately loved
him, and you will believe I did not deny such a one what was my
Interest also to grant. However I was not so young, as not to take the
Precaution of carrying with me a faithful Servant, who had been also
my Mothers Maid, to be present at the Ceremony. When that was over I
demanded a Certificate, signed by the Minister, my Husband, and the
Servant I just now spoke of. After our Nuptials, we conversed together
very familiarly in the same House; but the Restraints we were
generally under, and the Interviews we had, being stolen and
interrupted, made our Behaviour to each other have rather the
impatient Fondness which is visible in Lovers, than the regular and
gratified Affection which is to be observed in Man and Wife. This
Observation made the Father very anxious for his Son, and press him to
a Match he had in his Eye for him. To relieve my Husband from this
Importunity, and conceal the Secret of our Marriage, which I had
reason to know would not be long in my power in Town, it was resolved
that I should retire into a remote Place in the Country, and converse
under feigned Names by Letter. We long continued this Way of Commerce;
and I with my Needle, a few Books, and reading over and over my
Husbands Letters, passed my Time in a resigned Expectation of better
Days. Be pleased to take notice, that within four Months after I left
my Husband I was delivered of a Daughter, who died within few Hours
after her Birth. This Accident, and the retired Manner of Life I led,
gave criminal Hopes to a neighbouring Brute of a Country Gentle-man,
whose Folly was the Source of all my Affliction. This Rustick is one
of those rich Clowns, who supply the Want of all manner of Breeding by
the Neglect of it, and with noisy Mirth, half Understanding, and ample
Fortune, force themselves upon Persons and Things, without any Sense
of Time and Place. The poor ignorant People where I lay conceal'd, and
now passed for a Widow, wondered I could be so shy and strange, as
they called it, to the Squire; and were bribed by him to admit him
whenever he thought fit. I happened to be sitting in a little Parlour
which belonged to my own Part of the House, and musing over one of the
fondest of my Husbands Letters, in which I always kept the
Certificate of my Marriage, when this rude Fellow came in, and with
the nauseous Familiarity of such unbred Brutes, snatched the Papers
out of my Hand. I was immediately under so great a Concern, that I
threw my self at his Feet, and begged of him to return them. He with
the same odious Pretence to Freedom and Gaiety, swore he would read
them. I grew more importunate, he more curious, till at last, with an
Indignation arising from a Passion I then first discovered in him, he
threw the Papers into the Fire, swearing that since he was not to read
them, the Man who writ them should never be so happy as to have me
read them over again. It is insignificant to tell you my Tears and
Reproaches made the boisterous Calf leave the Room ashamed and out of
Countenance, when I had leisure to ruminate on this Accident with more
than ordinary Sorrow: However, such was then my Confidence in my
Husband, that I writ to him the Misfortune, and desired another Paper
of the same kind. He deferred writing two or three Posts, and at last
answered me in general, That he could not then send me what I asked
for, but when he could find a proper Conveyance, I should be sure to
have it. From this time his Letters were more cold every Day than the
other, and as he grew indifferent I grew jealous. This has at last
brought me to Town, where I find both the Witnesses of my Marriage
dead, and that my Husband, after three Months Cohabitation, has buried
a young Lady whom he married in Obedience to his Father. In a word, he
shuns and disowns me. Should I come to the House and confront him, the
Father would join in supporting him against me, though he believed my
Story; should I talk it to the World, what Reparation can I expect for
an Injury I cannot make out? I believe he means to bring me, through
Necessity, to resign my Pretentions to him for some Provision for my
Life; but I will die first. Pray bid him remember what he said, and
how he was charmed when he laughed at the heedless Discovery I often
made of my self; let him remember how awkward he was in my dissembled
Indifference towards him before Company; ask him how I, who could
never conceal my Love for him, at his own Request, can part with him
for ever? Oh, Mr. SPECTATOR, sensible Spirits know no Indifference in
Marriage; what then do you think is my piercing Affliction?---I leave
you to represent my Distress your own way, in which I desire you to be
speedy, if you have Compassion for Innocence exposed to Infamy.


* * * * *

No. 323. Tuesday, March 11, 1712. Addison.

Modo Vir, modo Foemina. [1]


The journal with which I presented my Reader on Tuesday last, has
brought me in several Letters, with Accounts of many private Lives cast
into that Form. I have the Rakes Journal, the Sots Journal, the
Whoremasters Journal, and among several others a very curious Piece,
entituled, The Journal of a Mohock. By these Instances I find that the
Intention of my last Tuesdays Paper has been mistaken by many of my
Readers. I did not design so much to expose Vice as Idleness, and aimed
at those Persons who pass away their Time rather in Trifle and
Impertinence, than in Crimes and Immoralities. Offences of this latter
kind are not to be dallied with, or treated in so ludicrous a manner. In
short, my Journal only holds up Folly to the Light, and shews the
Disagreeableness of such Actions as are indifferent in themselves, and
blameable only as they proceed from Creatures endow'd with Reason.

My following Correspondent, who calls her self Clarinda, is such a
Journalist as I require: She seems by her Letter to be placed in a
modish State of Indifference between Vice and Virtue, and to be
susceptible of either, were there proper Pains taken with her. Had her
Journal been filled with Gallantries, or such Occurrences as had shewn
her wholly divested of her natural Innocence, notwithstanding it might
have been more pleasing to the Generality of Readers, I should not have
published it; but as it is only the Picture of a Life filled with a
fashionable kind of Gaiety and Laziness, I shall set down five Days of
it, as I have received it from the Hand of my fair Correspondent.

You having set your Readers an Exercise in one of your last Weeks
Papers, I have perform'd mine according to your Orders, and herewith
send it you enclosed. You must know, Mr. SPECTATOR, that I am a Maiden
Lady of a good Fortune, who have had several Matches offered me for
these ten Years last past, and have at present warm Applications made
to me by a very pretty Fellow. As I am at my own Disposal, I come up
to Town every Winter, and pass my Time in it after the manner you will
find in the following Journal, which I begun to write upon the very
Day after your Spectator upon that Subject.

TUESDAY Night. Could not go to sleep till one in the Morning for
thinking of my Journal.

WEDNESDAY. From Eight till Ten, Drank two Dishes of Chocolate in
Bed, and fell asleep after em.

From Ten to Eleven. Eat a Slice of Bread and Butter, drank a Dish of
Bohea, read the Spectator.

From Eleven to One. At my Toilet, try'd a new Head. Gave Orders for
Veny to be combed and washed. Mem. I look best in Blue.

From One till Half an Hour after Two. Drove to the Change. Cheapned
a Couple of Fans.

Till Four. At Dinner. Mem. Mr. Froth passed by in his new Liveries.

From Four to Six. Dressed, paid a Visit to old Lady Blithe and her
Sister, having before heard they were gone out of Town that Day.

From Six to Eleven. At Basset. Mem. Never set again upon the Ace of

THURSDAY. From Eleven at Night to Eight in the Morning. Dream'd that
I punted to Mr. Froth.

From Eight to Ten. Chocolate. Read two Acts in Aurenzebe [2] abed.

From Ten to Eleven. Tea-Table. Sent to borrow Lady Faddles Cupid
for Veny. Read the Play-Bills. Received a Letter from Mr. Froth.
Mem. locked it up in my strong Box.

Rest of the Morning. Fontange, the Tire-woman, her Account of my
Lady Blithe's Wash. Broke a Tooth in my little Tortoise-shell Comb.
Sent Frank to know how my Lady Hectick rested after her Monky's
leaping out at Window. Looked pale. Fontange tells me my Glass is
not true. Dressed by Three.

From Three to Four. Dinner cold before I sat down.

From Four to Eleven. Saw Company. Mr. Froths Opinion of Milton. His
Account of the Mohocks. His Fancy for a Pin-cushion. Picture in the
Lid of his Snuff-box. Old Lady Faddle promises me her Woman to cut
my Hair. Lost five Guineas at Crimp.

Twelve a-Clock at Night. Went to Bed.

FRIDAY. Eight in the Morning. Abed. Read over all Mr. Froths
Letters. Cupid and Veny.

Ten a-Clock. Stay'd within all day, not at home.

From Ten to Twelve. In Conference with my Mantua-Maker. Sorted a
Suit of Ribbands. Broke my Blue China Cup.

From Twelve to One. Shut my self up in my Chamber, practised Lady
Betty Modely's Skuttle.

One in the Afternoon. Called for my flowered Handkerchief. Worked
half a Violet-Leaf in it. Eyes aked and Head out of Order. Threw by
my Work, and read over the remaining Part of Aurenzebe.

From Three to Four. Dined.

From Four to Twelve. Changed my Mind, dressed, went abroad, and
play'd at Crimp till Midnight. Found Mrs. Spitely at home.
Conversation: Mrs. Brilliants Necklace false Stones. Old Lady
Loveday going to be married to a young Fellow that is not worth a
Groat. Miss Prue gone into the Country. Tom Townley has red Hair.
Mem. Mrs. Spitely whispered in my Ear that she had something to tell
me about Mr. Froth, I am sure it is not true.

Between Twelve and One. Dreamed that Mr. Froth lay at my Feet, and
called me Indamora. [3]

SATURDAY. Rose at Eight a-Clock in the Morning. Sate down to my

From Eight to Nine. Shifted a Patch for Half an Hour before I could
determine it. Fixed it above my left Eye-brow.

From Nine to Twelve. Drank my Tea, and dressed.

From Twelve to Two. At Chappel. A great deal of good Company. Mem.
The third Air in the new Opera. Lady Blithe dressed frightfully.

From Three to Four. Dined. Miss Kitty called upon me to go to the
Opera before I was risen from Table.

From Dinner to Six. Drank Tea. Turned off a Footman for being rude
to Veny.

Six a-Clock. Went to the Opera. I did not see Mr. Froth till the
beginning of the second Act. Mr. Froth talked to a Gentleman in a
black Wig. Bowed to a Lady in the front Box. Mr. Froth and his
Friend clapp'd Nicolini in the third Act. Mr. Froth cried out
Ancora. Mr. Froth led me to my Chair. I think he squeezed my Hand.

Eleven at Night. Went to Bed. Melancholy Dreams. Methought Nicolini
said he was Mr. Froth.

SUNDAY. Indisposed.

MONDAY. Eight a-Clock. Waked by Miss Kitty. Aurenzebe lay upon the
Chair by me. Kitty repeated without Book the Eight best Lines in the
Play. Went in our Mobbs to the dumb Man [4], according to
Appointment. Told me that my Lovers Name began with a G. Mem. The
Conjurer was within a Letter of Mr. Froths Name, &c.

Upon looking back into this my Journal, I find that I am at a loss to
know whether I pass my Time well or ill; and indeed never thought of
considering how I did it before I perused your Speculation upon that
Subject. I scarce find a single Action in these five Days that I can
thoroughly approve of, except the working upon the Violet-Leaf, which
I am resolved to finish the first Day I am at leisure. As for Mr.
Froth and Veny I did not think they took up so much of my Time and
Thoughts, as I find they do upon my Journal. The latter of them I will
turn off, if you insist upon it; and if Mr. Froth does not bring
Matters to a Conclusion very suddenly, I will not let my Life run away
in a Dream.
Your humble Servant,

To resume one of the Morals of my first Paper, and to confirm Clarinda
in her good Inclinations, I would have her consider what a pretty Figure
she would make among Posterity, were the History of her whole Life
published like these five Days of it. I shall conclude my Paper with an
Epitaph written by an uncertain Author [5] on Sir Philip Sidney's
Sister, a Lady who seems to have been of a Temper very much different
from that of Clarinda. The last Thought of it is so very noble, that I
dare say my Reader will pardon me the Quotation.

On the Countess Dowager of Pembroke.
Underneath this Marble Hearse
Lies the Subject of all Verse,
Sidney's Sister, Pembroke's Mother:
Death, ere thou hast kill'd another,
Fair, and learn'd, and good as she,
Time shall throw a Dart at thee.

[Footnote 1: A quotation from memory of Virgil's Et juvenis quondam
nunc foemina. AEn. vi. 448.]

[Footnote 2: Dryden's.]

[Footnote 3: The heroine of Aurengzebe.]

[Footnote 4: Duncan Campbell, said to be deaf and dumb, and to tell
fortunes by second sight. In 1732 there appeared Secret Memoirs of the
late Mr. D. Campbell.... written by himself... with an Appendix by way
of vindicating Mr. C. against the groundless aspersion cast upon him,
that he but pretended to be deaf and dumb.]

[Footnote 5: Ben Jonson.]

* * * * *

No. 324. Wednesday, March 12, 1712. Steele.

[O curvae in terris animae, et coelestium inanes.

Pers [1].]


The Materials you have collected together towards a general History
of Clubs, make so bright a Part of your Speculations, that I think it
is but a Justice we all owe the learned World to furnish you with such
Assistances as may promote that useful Work. For this Reason I could
not forbear communicating to you some imperfect Informations of a Set
of Men (if you will allow them a place in that Species of Being) who
have lately erected themselves into a Nocturnal Fraternity, under the
Title of the Mohock Club, a Name borrowed it seems from a sort of
Cannibals in India, who subsist by plundering and devouring all the
Nations about them. The President is styled Emperor of the Mohocks;
and his Arms are a Turkish Crescent, which his Imperial Majesty bears
at present in a very extraordinary manner engraven upon his Forehead.
Agreeable to their Name, the avowed design of their Institution is
Mischief; and upon this Foundation all their Rules and Orders are
framed. An outrageous Ambition of doing all possible hurt to their
Fellow-Creatures, is the great Cement of their Assembly, and the only
Qualification required in the Members. In order to exert this
Principle in its full Strength and Perfection, they take care to drink
themselves to a pitch, that is, beyond the Possibility of attending to
any Motions of Reason and Humanity; then make a general Sally, and
attack all that are so unfortunate as to walk the Streets through
which they patrole. Some are knock'd down, others stabb'd, others cut
and carbonado'd. To put the Watch to a total Rout, and mortify some of
those inoffensive Militia, is reckon'd a Coup d'eclat. The particular
Talents by which these Misanthropes are distinguished from one
another, consist in the various kinds of Barbarities which they
execute upon their Prisoners. Some are celebrated for a happy
Dexterity in tipping the Lion upon them; which is performed by
squeezing the Nose flat to the Face, and boring out the Eyes with
their Fingers: Others are called the Dancing-Masters, and teach their
Scholars to cut Capers by running Swords thro their Legs; a new
Invention, whether originally French I cannot tell: A third sort are
the Tumblers, whose office it is to set Women on their Heads, and
commit certain Indecencies, or rather Barbarities, on the Limbs which
they expose. But these I forbear to mention, because they cant but be
very shocking to the Reader as well as the SPECTATOR. In this manner
they carry on a War against Mankind; and by the standing Maxims of
their Policy, are to enter into no Alliances but one, and that is
Offensive and Defensive with all Bawdy-Houses in general, of which
they have declared themselves Protectors and Guarantees. [2]

I must own, Sir, these are only broken incoherent Memoirs of this
wonderful Society, but they are the best I have been yet able to
procure; for being but of late Establishment, it is not ripe for a
just History; And to be serious, the chief Design of this Trouble is
to hinder it from ever being so. You have been pleas'd, out of a
concern for the good of your Countrymen, to act under the Character of
SPECTATOR, not only the Part of a Looker-on, but an Overseer of their
Actions; and whenever such Enormities as this infest the Town, we
immediately fly to you for Redress. I have reason to believe, that
some thoughtless Youngsters, out of a false Notion of Bravery, and an
immoderate Fondness to be distinguished for Fellows of Fire, are
insensibly hurry'd into this senseless scandalous Project: Such will
probably stand corrected by your Reproofs, especially if you inform
them, that it is not Courage for half a score Fellows, mad with Wine
and Lust, to set upon two or three soberer than themselves; and that
the Manners of Indian Savages are no becoming Accomplishments to an
English fine Gentleman. Such of them as have been Bullies and Scowrers
of a long standing, and are grown Veterans in this kind of Service,
are, I fear, too hardned to receive any Impressions from your
Admonitions. But I beg you would recommend to their Perusal your ninth
Speculation: They may there be taught to take warning from the Club of
Duellists; and be put in mind, that the common Fate of those Men of
Honour was to be hang'd.

I am, SIR,

Your most humble Servant,


March the 10th, 1711-12.

The following Letter is of a quite contrary nature; but I add it here,
that the Reader may observe at the same View, how amiable Ignorance may
be when it is shewn in its Simplicities, and how detestable in
Barbarities. It is written by an honest Countryman to his Mistress, and
came to the Hands of a Lady of good Sense wrapped about a Thread-Paper,
who has long kept it by her as an Image of artless Love.

To her I very much respect, Mrs. Margaret Clark.

Lovely, and oh that I could write loving Mrs. Margaret Clark, I pray
you let Affection excuse Presumption. Having been so happy as to enjoy
the Sight of your sweet Countenance and comely Body, sometimes when I
had occasion to buy Treacle or Liquorish Powder at the Apothecary's
Shop, I am so enamoured with you, that I can no more keep close my
flaming Desire to become your Servant. And I am the more bold now to
write to your sweet self, because I am now my own Man, and may match
where I please; for my Father is taken away, and now I am come to my
Living, which is Ten Yard Land, and a House; and there is never a Yard
of Land in our Field but it is as well worth ten Pound a Year, as a
Thief is worth a Halter; and all my Brothers and Sisters are provided
for: Besides I have good Houshold-stuff, though I say it, both Brass
and Pewter, Linnens and Woollens; and though my House be thatched,
yet, if you and I match, it shall go hard but I will have one half of
it slated. If you think well of this Motion, I will wait upon you as
soon as my new Cloaths is made and Hay Harvest is in. I could, though
I say it, have good--

The rest is torn off; [3] and Posterity must be contented to know, that
Mrs. Margaret Clark was very pretty, but are left in the dark as to the
Name of her Lover.


[Footnote 1:

[Saevis inter se convenit Ursis.


[Footnote 2: Gay tells also in his Trivia that the Mohocks rolled women
in hogs-heads down Snow hill. Swift wrote of the Mohocks, at this time,
in his Journal to Stella,

Grub-street papers about them fly like lightning, and a list printed
of near eighty put into several prisons, and all a lie, and I begin to
think there is no truth, or very little, in the whole story.

On the 18th of March an attempt was made to put the Mohocks down by
Royal Proclamation.]

[Footnote 3: This letter is said to have been really sent to one who
married Mr. Cole, a Northampton attorney, by a neighbouring freeholder
named Gabriel Bullock, and shown to Steele by his friend the antiquary,
Browne Willis. See also No. 328.]

* * * * *

No. 325. Thursday, March 13, 1712. Budgell

Quid frustra Simulacra fugacia captas?
Quod petis, est nusquam: quod amas avertere, perdes.
Ista repercussae quam cernis imaginis umbra est,
Nil habet ista sui; tecum venitque, manetque,
Tecum discedet si tu discedere possis.


WILL. HONEYCOMB diverted us last Night with an Account of a young
Fellows first discovering his Passion to his Mistress. The young Lady
was one, it seems, who had long before conceived a favourable Opinion of
him, and was still in hopes that he would some time or other make his
Advances. As he was one day talking with her in Company of her two
Sisters, the Conversation happening to turn upon Love, each of the young
Ladies was by way of Raillery, recommending a Wife to him; when, to the
no small Surprize of her who languished for him in secret, he told them
with a more than ordinary Seriousness, that his Heart had been long
engaged to one whose Name he thought himself obliged in Honour to
conceal; but that he could shew her Picture in the Lid of his Snuff-box.
The young Lady, who found herself the most sensibly touched by this
Confession, took the first Opportunity that offered of snatching his Box
out of his Hand. He seemed desirous of recovering it, but finding her
resolved to look into the Lid, begged her, that if she should happen to
know the Person, she would not reveal her Name. Upon carrying it to the
Window, she was very agreeably surprized to find there was nothing
within the Lid but a little Looking-Glass, in which, after she had
view'd her own Face with more Pleasure than she had ever done before,
she returned the Box with a Smile, telling him, she could not but admire
at his Choice.

WILL. fancying that his Story took, immediately fell into a Dissertation
on the Usefulness of Looking-Glasses, and applying himself to me, asked,
if there were any Looking Glasses in the Times of the Greeks and Romans;
for that he had often observed in the Translations of Poems out of those
Languages, that People generally talked of seeing themselves in Wells,
Fountains, Lakes, and Rivers: Nay, says he, I remember Mr. Dryden in his
Ovid tells us of a swingeing Fellow, called Polypheme, that made use of
the Sea for his Looking-Glass, and could never dress himself to
Advantage but in a Calm.

My Friend WILL, to shew us the whole Compass of his Learning upon this
Subject, further informed us, that there were still several Nations in
the World so very barbarous as not to have any Looking-Glasses among
them; and that he had lately read a Voyage to the South-Sea, in which it
is said, that the Ladies of Chili always dress their Heads over a Bason
of Water.

I am the more particular in my Account of WILL'S last Night's Lecture
on these natural Mirrors, as it seems to bear some Relation to the
following Letter, which I received the Day before.


I have read your last Saturdays Observations on the Fourth Book of
Milton with great Satisfaction, and am particularly pleased with the
hidden Moral, which you have taken notice of in several Parts of the
Poem. The Design of this Letter is to desire your Thoughts, whether
there may not also be some Moral couched under that Place in the same
Book where the Poet lets us know, that the first Woman immediately
after her Creation ran to a Looking-Glass, and became so enamoured of
her own Face, that she had never removed to view any of the other
Works of Nature, had not she been led off to a Man. If you think fit
to set down the whole Passage from Milton, your Readers will be able
to judge for themselves, and the Quotation will not a little
contribute to the filling up of your Paper.
Your humble Servant,
R. T.

The last Consideration urged by my Querist is so strong, that I cannot
forbear closing with it. The Passage he alludes to, is part of Eves
Speech to Adam, and one of the most beautiful Passages in the whole Poem.

That Day I oft remember, when from sleep
I first awaked, and found my self repos d
Under a shade of flowrs, much wondering where
And what I was, whence thither brought, and how.
Not distant far from thence a murmuring Sound
Of Waters issu'd from a Cave, and spread
Into a liquid Plain, then stood unmoved
Pure as th' Expanse of Heavn: I thither went
With unexperienced Thought, and laid me down
On the green Bank, to look into the clear
Smooth Lake, that to me seemed another Sky.
As I bent down to look, just opposite,
A Shape within the watry Gleam appeared
Bending to look on me; I started back,
It started back; but pleas'd I soon returned,
Pleas'd it return'd as soon with answering Looks
Of Sympathy and Love; there I had fix d
Mine Eyes till now, and pined with vain Desire,
Had not a Voice thus warn'd me, What thou seest,
What there thou seest, fair Creature, is thy self,
With thee it came and goes: but follow me,
And I will bring thee where no Shadow stays
Thy coming, and thy soft Embraces, he
Whose Image thou art, him thou shalt enjoy
Inseparably thine, to him shalt bear
Multitudes like thy self, and thence be call'd
Mother of Human Race. What could I do,
But follow streight, invisibly thus led?
Till I espy'd thee, fair indeed and tall,
Under a Platan, yet methought less fair,
Less winning soft, less amiably mild,
Than that smooth watry Image: back I turn'd,
Thou following crydst aloud, Return fair Eve,
Whom flyst thou? whom thou flyst, of him thou art,
His Flesh, his Bone; to give thee Being, I lent
Out of my Side to thee, nearest my Heart,
Substantial Life, to have thee by my side
Henceforth an individual Solace dear.
Part of my Soul I seek thee, and thee claim
My other half!---With that thy gentle hand
Seized mine, I yielded, and from that time see
How Beauty is excell'd by manly Grace,
And Wisdom, which alone is truly fair.
So spake our general Mother,--


* * * * *

No. 326. Friday, March 14, 1712. Steele.

Inclusam Danaen turris ahenea
Robustaeque fores, et vigilum canum
Tristes exubiae, munierant satis
Nocturnis ab adulteris;
Si non--



Your Correspondents Letter relating to Fortune-Hunters, and your
subsequent Discourse upon it, have given me Encouragement to send you
a State of my Case, by which you will see, that the Matter complained
of is a common Grievance both to City and Country.

I am a Country Gentleman of between five and six thousand a Year. It
is my Misfortune to have a very fine Park and an only Daughter; upon
which account I have been so plagu'd with Deer-Stealers and Fops, that
for these four Years past I have scarce enjoy'd a Moments Rest. I
look upon my self to be in a State of War, and am forc'd to keep as
constant watch in my Seat, as a Governour would do that commanded a
Town on the Frontier of an Enemy's Country. I have indeed pretty well
secur'd my Park, having for this purpose provided my self of four
Keepers, who are Left-handed, and handle a Quarter-Staff beyond any
other Fellow in the Country. And for the Guard of my House, besides a
Band of Pensioner-Matrons and an old Maiden Relation, whom I keep on
constant Duty, I have Blunderbusses always charged, and Fox-Gins
planted in private Places about my Garden, of which I have given
frequent Notice in the Neighbourhood; yet so it is, that in spite of
all my Care, I shall every now and then have a saucy Rascal ride by
reconnoitring (as I think you call it) under my Windows, as sprucely
drest as if he were going to a Ball. I am aware of this way of
attacking a Mistress on Horseback, having heard that it is a common
Practice in Spain; and have therefore taken care to remove my Daughter
from the Road-side of the House, and to lodge her next the Garden. But
to cut short my Story; what can a Man do after all? I durst not stand
for Member of Parliament last Election, for fear of some ill
Consequence from my being off of my Post. What I would therefore
desire of you, is, to promote a Project I have set on foot; and upon
which I have writ to some of my Friends; and that is, that care may be
taken to secure our Daughters by Law, as well as our Deer; and that
some honest Gentleman of a publick Spirit, would move for Leave to
bring in a Bill For the better preserving of the Female Game.
I am, SIR,
Your humble Servant.

Mile-End-Green, March 6, 1711-12.


Here is a young Man walks by our Door every Day about the Dusk of the
Evening. He looks up at my Window, as if to see me; and if I steal
towards it to peep at him, he turns another way, and looks frightened
at finding what he was looking for. The Air is very cold; and pray let
him know that if he knocks at the Door, he will be carry'd to the
Parlour Fire; and I will come down soon after, and give him an
Opportunity to break his Mind.
I am, SIR,
Your humble Servant,
Mary Comfitt.

If I observe he cannot speak, Ill give him time to recover himself,
and ask him how he does.

Dear SIR,
I beg you to print this without Delay, and by the first Opportunity
give us the natural Causes of Longing in Women; or put me out of Fear
that my Wife will one time or other be delivered of something as
monstrous as any thing that has yet appeared to the World; for they
say the Child is to bear a Resemblance of what was desir'd by the
Mother. I have been marry'd upwards of six Years, have had four
Children, and my Wife is now big with the fifth. The Expences she has
put me to in procuring what she has longed for during her Pregnancy
with them, would not only have handsomely defray'd the Charges of the
Month, but of their Education too; her Fancy being so exorbitant for
the first Year or two, as not to confine it self to the usual Objects
of Eatables and Drinkables, but running out after Equipage and
Furniture, and the like Extravagancies. To trouble you only with a few
of them: When she was with Child of Tom, my eldest Son, she came home
one day just fainting, and told me she had been visiting a Relation,
whose Husband had made her a Present of a Chariot and a stately pair
of Horses; and that she was positive she could not breathe a Week
longer, unless she took the Air in the Fellow to it of her own within
that time: This, rather than lose an Heir, I readily comply'd with.
Then the Furniture of her best Room must be instantly changed, or she
should mark the Child with some of the frightful Figures in the
old-fashion'd Tapestry. Well, the Upholsterer was called, and her
Longing sav'd that bout. When she went with Molly, she had fix'd her
Mind upon a new Set of Plate, and as much China as would have
furnished an India Shop: These also I chearfully granted, for fear of
being Father to an Indian Pagod. Hitherto I found her Demands rose
upon every Concession; and had she gone on, I had been ruined: But by
good Fortune, with her third, which was Peggy, the Height of her
Imagination came down to the Corner of a Venison Pasty, and brought
her once even upon her Knees to gnaw off the Ears of a Pig from the
Spit. The Gratifications of her Palate were easily preferred to those
of her Vanity; and sometimes a Partridge or a Quail, a Wheat-Ear or
the Pestle of a Lark, were chearfully purchased; nay, I could be
contented tho I were to feed her with green Pease in April, or
Cherries in May. But with the Babe she now goes, she is turned Girl
again, and fallen to eating of Chalk, pretending twill make the
Child's Skin white; and nothing will serve her but I must bear her
Company, to prevent its having a Shade of my Brown: In this however I
have ventur'd to deny her. No longer ago than yesterday, as we were
coming to Town, she saw a parcel of Crows so heartily at Break-fast
upon a piece of Horse-flesh, that she had an invincible Desire to
partake with them, and (to my infinite Surprize) begged the Coachman
to cut her off a Slice as if twere for himself, which the Fellow did;
and as soon as she came home she fell to it with such an Appetite,
that she seemed rather to devour than eat it. What her next Sally will
be, I cannot guess: but in the mean time my Request to you is, that if
there be any way to come at these wild unaccountable Rovings of
Imagination by Reason and Argument, you'd speedily afford us your
Assistance. This exceeds the Grievance of Pin-Money, and I think in
every Settlement there ought to be a Clause inserted, that the Father
should be answerable for the Longings of his Daughter. But I shall
impatiently expect your Thoughts in this Matter and am
Your most Obliged, and
most Faithful Humble Servant,

Let me know whether you think the next Child will love Horses as much
as Molly does China-Ware.


* * * * *

No. 327. Saturday, March 15, 1712. Addison.

Major rerum mihi nascitur ordo.


We were told in the foregoing Book how the evil Spirit practised upon
Eve as she lay asleep, in order to inspire her with Thoughts of Vanity,
Pride, and Ambition. The Author, who shews a wonderful Art throughout
his whole Poem, in preparing the Reader for the several Occurrences that
arise in it, founds upon the above-mention'd Circumstance, the first
Part of the fifth Book. Adam upon his awaking finds Eve still asleep,
with an unusual Discomposure in her Looks. The Posture in which he
regards her, is describ'd with a Tenderness not to be express'd, as the
Whisper with which he awakens her, is the softest that ever was convey'd
to a Lovers Ear.

His wonder was, to find unwaken'd Eve
With Tresses discompos'd, and glowing Cheek,
As through unquiet Rest: he on his side
Leaning half-rais'd, with Looks of cordial Love
Hung over her enamour'd, and beheld
Beauty, which whether waking or asleep,
Shot forth peculiar Graces: then, with Voice
Mild, as when Zephyrus on Flora breathes,
Her Hand soft touching, whisper'd thus: Awake
My Fairest, my Espous'd, my latest found,
Heavns last best Gift, my ever new Delight!
Awake: the Morning shines, and the fresh Field
Calls us, we lose the Prime, to mark how spring
Our tended Plants, how blows the Citron Grove,
What drops the Myrrh, and what the balmy Reed,
How Nature paints her Colours, how the Bee
Sits on the Bloom, extracting liquid Sweets.

Such whispering wak'd her, but with startled Eye
On Adam, whom embracing, thus she spake:

O Sole, in whom my Thoughts find all Repose,
My Glory, my Perfection! glad I see
Thy Face, and Morn return'd----

I cannot but take notice that Milton, in the Conferences between Adam
and Eve, had his Eye very frequently upon the Book of Canticles, in
which there is a noble Spirit of Eastern Poetry; and very often not
unlike what we meet with in Homer, who is generally placed near the Age
of Solomon. I think there is no question but the Poet in the preceding
Speech remember'd those two Passages which are spoken on the like
occasion, and fill'd with the same pleasing Images of Nature.

My beloved spake, and said unto me, Rise up, my Love, my Fair one, and
come away; for lo the Winter is past, the Rain is over and gone, the
Flowers appear on the Earth, the Time of the singing of Birds is come,
and the Voice of the Turtle is heard in our Land. The Fig-tree putteth
forth her green Figs, and the Vines with the tender Grape give a good
Smell. Arise my Love, my Fair-one and come away.

Come, my Beloved, let us go forth into the Field; let us get up early
to the Vineyards, let us see if the Vine flourish, whether the tender
Grape appear, and the Pomegranates bud forth.

His preferring the Garden of Eden, to that

--Where the Sapient King
Held Dalliance with his fair Egyptian Spouse,

shews that the Poet had this delightful Scene in his mind.

Eves Dream is full of those high Conceits engendring Pride, which, we
are told, the Devil endeavour'd to instill into her. Of this kind is
that Part of it where she fancies herself awaken'd by Adam in the
following beautiful Lines.

Why sleepst thou Eve? now is the pleasant Time,
The cool, the silent, save where Silence yields
To the night-warbling Bird, that now awake
Tunes sweetest his love-labour'd Song; now reigns
Full orb'd the Moon, and with more [pleasing [1]] Light
Shadowy sets off the Face of things: In vain,
If none regard. Heavn wakes with all his Eyes,
Whom to behold but thee, Natures Desire,
In whose sight all things joy, with Ravishment,
Attracted by thy Beauty still to gaze!

An injudicious Poet would have made Adam talk thro the whole Work in
such Sentiments as these: But Flattery and Falshood are not the
Courtship of Milton's Adam, and could not be heard by Eve in her State
of Innocence, excepting only in a Dream produc'd on purpose to taint her
Imagination. Other vain Sentiments of the same kind in this Relation of
her Dream, will be obvious to every Reader. Tho the Catastrophe of the
Poem is finely presag'd on this Occasion, the Particulars of it are so
artfully shadow'd, that they do not anticipate the Story which follows
in the ninth Book. I shall only add, that tho the Vision it self is
founded upon Truth, the Circumstances of it are full of that Wildness
and Inconsistency which are natural to a Dream. Adam, conformable to his
superior Character for Wisdom, instructs and comforts Eve upon this

So chear'd he his fair Spouse, and she was chear'd,
But silently a gentle Tear let fall
From either Eye, and wiped them with her hair;
Two other precious Drops, that ready stood
Each in their chrystal Sluice, he ere they fell
Kiss'd, as the gracious Sign of sweet Remorse
And pious Awe, that fear'd to have offended.

The Morning Hymn is written in Imitation of one of those Psalms, where,
in the overflowings of Gratitude and Praise, the Psalmist calls not only
upon the Angels, but upon the most conspicuous Parts of the inanimate
Creation, to join with him in extolling their common Maker. Invocations
of this nature fill the Mind with glorious Ideas of Gods Works, and
awaken that Divine Enthusiasm, which is so natural to Devotion. But if
this calling upon the dead Parts of Nature, is at all times a proper
kind of Worship, it was in a particular manner suitable to our first
Parents, who had the Creation fresh upon their Minds, and had not seen
the various Dispensations of Providence, nor consequently could be
acquainted with those many Topicks of Praise which might afford Matter
to the Devotions of their Posterity. I need not remark the beautiful
Spirit of Poetry, which runs through this whole Hymn, nor the Holiness
of that Resolution with which it concludes.

Having already mentioned those Speeches which are assigned to the
Persons in this Poem, I proceed to the Description which the Poet [gives
[2]] of Raphael. His Departure from before the Throne, and the Flight
through the Choirs of Angels, is finely imaged. As Milton every where
fills his Poem with Circumstances that are marvellous and astonishing,
he describes the Gate of Heaven as framed after such a manner, that it
opened of it self upon the Approach of the Angel who was to pass through

Till at the Gate
Of Heavn arriv'd, the Gate self-open'd wide,
On golden Hinges turning, as by Work
Divine, the Sovereign Architect had framed.

The Poet here seems to have regarded two or three Passages in the 18th
Iliad, as that in particular, where speaking of Vulcan, Homer says, that
he had made twenty Tripodes running on Golden Wheels; which, upon
occasion, might go of themselves to the Assembly of the Gods, and, when
there was no more Use for them, return again after the same manner.
Scaliger has rallied Homer very severely upon this Point, as M. Dacier
has endeavoured to defend it. I will not pretend to determine, whether
in this particular of Homer the Marvellous does not lose sight of the
Probable. As the miraculous Workmanship of Milton's Gates is not so
extraordinary as this of the Tripodes, so I am persuaded he would not
have mentioned it, had not he been supported in it by a Passage in the
Scripture, which speaks of Wheels in Heaven that had Life in them, and
moved of themselves, or stood still, in conformity with the Cherubims,
whom they accompanied.

There is no question but Milton had this Circumstance in his Thoughts,
because in the following Book he describes the Chariot of the Messiah
with living Wheels, according to the Plan in Ezekiel's Vision.

--Forth rush'd with Whirlwind sound
The Chariot of paternal Deity
Flashing thick flames?, Wheel within Wheel undrawn,
Itself instinct with Spirit--

I question not but Bossu, and the two Daciers, who are for vindicating
every thing that is censured in Homer, by something parallel in Holy
Writ, would have been very well pleased had they thought of confronting
Vulcan's Tripodes with Ezekiel's Wheels.

Raphael's Descent to the Earth, with the Figure of his Person, is
represented in very lively Colours. Several of the French, Italian and
English Poets have given a Loose to their Imaginations in the
Description of Angels: But I do not remember to have met with any so
finely drawn, and so conformable to the Notions which are given of them
in Scripture, as this in Milton. After having set him forth in all his
Heavenly Plumage, and represented him as alighting upon the Earth, the
Poet concludes his Description with a Circumstance, which is altogether
new, and imagined with the greatest Strength of Fancy.

--Like Maia's Son he stood,
And shook his Plumes, that Heavnly Fragrance fill'd
The Circuit wide.--

Raphael's Reception by the Guardian Angels; his passing through the
Wilderness of Sweets; his distant Appearance to Adam, have all the
Graces that Poetry is capable of bestowing. The Author afterwards gives
us a particular Description of Eve in her Domestick Employments

So saying, with dispatchful Looks in haste
She turns, on hospitable Thoughts intent,
What Choice to chuse for Delicacy best,
What order, so contrived, as not to mix
Tastes, not well join'd, inelegant, but bring
Taste after Taste; upheld with kindliest Change;
Bestirs her then, &c.--

Though in this, and other Parts of the same Book, the Subject is only
the Housewifry of our first Parent, it is set off with so many pleasing
Images and strong Expressions, as make it none of the least agreeable
Parts in this Divine Work.

The natural Majesty of Adam, and at the same time his submissive
Behaviour to the Superior Being, who had vouchsafed to be his Guest; the
solemn Hail which the Angel bestows upon the Mother of Mankind, with the
Figure of Eve ministring at the Table, are Circumstances which deserve
to be admired.

Raphael's Behaviour is every way suitable to the Dignity of his Nature,
and to that Character of a sociable Spirit, with which the Author has so
judiciously introduced him. He had received Instructions to converse
with Adam, as one Friend converses with another, and to warn him of the
Enemy, who was contriving his Destruction: Accordingly he is represented
as sitting down at Table with Adam, and eating of the Fruits of
Paradise. The Occasion naturally leads him to his Discourse on the Food
of Angels. After having thus entered into Conversation with Man upon
more indifferent Subjects, he warns him of his Obedience, and makes
natural Transition to the History of that fallen Angel, who was employ'd
in the Circumvention of our first Parents.

Had I followed Monsieur Bossu's Method in my first Paper of Milton, I
should have dated the Action of Paradise Lost from the Beginning of
Raphael's Speech in this Book, as he supposes the Action of the AEneid to
begin in the second Book of that Poem. I could allege many Reasons for
my drawing the Action of the AEneid rather from its immediate Beginning
in the first Book, than from its remote Beginning in the second; and
shew why I have considered the sacking of Troy as an Episode, according
to the common Acceptation of that Word. But as this would be a dry
unentertaining Piece of Criticism, and perhaps unnecessary to those who
have read my first Paper, I shall not enlarge upon it. Whichever of the
Notions be true, the Unity of Milton's Action is preserved according to
either of them; whether we consider the Fall of Man in its immediate
Beginning, as proceeding from the Resolutions taken in the infernal
Council, or in its more remote Beginning, as proceeding from the first
Revolt of the Angels in Heaven. The Occasion which Milton assigns for
this Revolt, as it is founded on Hints in Holy Writ, and on the Opinion
of some great Writers, so it was the most proper that the Poet could
have made use of.

The Revolt in Heaven is described with great Force of Imagination and a
fine Variety of Circumstances. The learned Reader cannot but be pleased
with the Poets Imitation of Homer in the last of the following Lines.

At length into the Limits of the North
They came, and Satan took his Royal Seat
High on a Hill, far blazing, as a Mount
Rais'd on a Mount, with Pyramids and Towrs
From Diamond Quarries hewn, and Rocks of Gold,
The Palace of great Lucifer, (so call
That Structure in the Dialect of Men

Homer mentions Persons and Things, which he tells us in the Language of
the Gods are call'd by different Names from those they go by in the
Language of Men. Milton has imitated him with his usual Judgment in this
particular Place, wherein he has likewise the Authority of Scripture to
justifie him. The Part of Abdiel, who was the only Spirit that in this
infinite Host of Angels preserved his Allegiance to his Maker, exhibits
to us a noble Moral of religious Singularity. The Zeal of the Seraphim
breaks forth in a becoming Warmth of Sentiments and Expressions, as the
Character which is given us of him denotes that generous Scorn and
Intrepidity which attends Heroic Virtue. The Author doubtless designed
it as a Pattern to those who live among Mankind in their present State
of Degeneracy and Corruption.

So spake the Seraph Abdiel, faithful found
Among the faithless, faithful only he;
Among innumerable false, unmov'd,
Unshaken, unseduc'd, unterrify'd;
His Loyalty he kept, his Love, his Zeal:
Nor Number, nor Example with him wrought
To swerve from truth, or change his constant Mind,
Though single. From amidst them forth he pass'd,
Long way through [hostile] Scorn, which he sustain'd
Superior, nor of Violence fear'd ought;
And, with retorted Scorn, his Back he turn'd
On those proud Towrs to swift Destruction doom'd.


[Footnote 1: [pleasant]

[Footnote 2: [gives us]]

* * * * *

No. 328 [1] Monday, March 17, 1712. Steele.

Delectata illa urbanitate tam stulta.

Petron. Arb.

That useful Part of Learning which consists in Emendation, Knowledge of
different Readings, and the like, is what in all Ages Persons extremely
wise and learned have had in great Veneration. For this reason I cannot
but rejoyce at the following Epistle, which lets us into the true Author
of the Letter to Mrs. Margaret Clark, part of which I did myself the
Honour to publish in a former Paper. I must confess I do not naturally
affect critical Learning; but finding my self not so much regarded as I
am apt to flatter my self I may deserve from some professed Patrons of
Learning, I could not but do my self the Justice to shew I am not a
Stranger to such Erudition as they smile upon, if I were duly
encouraged. However this only to let the World see what I could do; and
shall not give my Reader any more of this kind, if he will forgive the
Ostentation I shew at present.

March 13, 1712.

Upon reading your Paper of yesterday, [2] I took the Pains to look
out a Copy I had formerly taken, and remembered to be very like your
last Letter: Comparing them, I found they were the very same, and
have, underwritten, sent you that Part of it which you say was torn
off. I hope you will insert it, that Posterity may know twas Gabriel
Bullock that made Love in that natural Stile of which you seem to be
fond. But, to let you see I have other Manuscripts in the same Way, I
have sent you Enclosed three Copies, faithfully taken by my own Hand
from the Originals, which were writ by a Yorkshire gentleman of a good
estate to Madam Mary, and an Uncle of hers, a Knight very well known
by the most ancient Gentry in that and several other Counties of Great
Britain. I have exactly followed the Form and Spelling. I have been
credibly informed that Mr. William Bullock, the famous Comedian, is
the descendant of this Gabriel, who begot Mr. William Bullocks great
grandfather on the Body of the above-mentioned Mrs. Margaret Clark.
But neither Speed, nor Baker, nor Selden, taking notice of it, I will
not pretend to be positive; but desire that the letter may be
reprinted, and what is here recovered may be in Italic.
I am, SIR,
Your daily Reader.

_To her I very much respect, Mrs. Margaret Clark._

Lovely, and oh that I could write loving Mrs. Margaret Clark, I pray
you let Affection excuse Presumption. Having been so happy as to
enjoy the Sight of your sweet Countenance and comely Body, sometimes
when I had occasion to buy Treacle or Liquorish Power at the
apothecary's shop, I am so enamoured with you, that I can no more
keep close my flaming Desire to become your Servant. And I am the
more bold now to write to your sweet self, because I am now my own
Man, and may match where I please; for my Father is taken away; and
now I am come to my Living, which is ten yard Land, and a House; and
there is never a Yard Land [3] in our Field but is as well worth ten
Pound a Year, as a Thief's worth a Halter; and all my Brothers and
Sisters are provided for: besides I have good Household Stuff,
though I say it, both Brass and Pewter, Linnens and Woollens; and
though my House be thatched, yet if you and I match, it shall go
hard but I will have one half of it slated. If you shall think well
of this Motion, I will wait upon you as soon as my new Cloaths is
made, and Hay-Harvest is in. I could, though I say it, have good
_Matches in our Town; but my Mother (Gods Peace be with her)
charged me upon her Death-Bed to marry a Gentlewoman, one who had
been well trained up in Sowing and Cookery. I do not think but that
if you and I can agree to marry, and lay our Means together, I shall
be made grand Jury-man e'er two or three Years come about, and that
will be a great Credit to us. If I could have got a Messenger for
Sixpence, I would have sent one on Purpose, and some Trifle or other
for a Token of my Love; but I hope there is nothing lost for that
neither. So hoping you will take this Letter in good Part, and
answer it with what Care and Speed you can, I rest and remain,_
Yours, if my own, MR. GABRIEL BULLOCK, now my father is dead.

Swepston, Leicestershire.

When the Coal Carts come, I shall send oftener; and may come in one
of them my self.

For sir William to go to london at westminster, remember a

Sir William, i hope that you are well. i write to let you know that
i am in troubel abbut a lady you nease; and I do desire that you
will be my frend; for when i did com to see her at your hall, i was
mighty Abuesed. i would fain a see you at topecliff, and thay would
not let me go to you; but i desire that you will be our frends, for
it is no dishonor neither for you nor she, for God did make us all.
i wish that i might see you, for thay say that you are a good man:
and many doth wounder at it, but madam norton is abuesed and ceated
two i beleive. i might a had many a lady, but i con have none but
her with a good consons, for there is a God that know our harts, if
you and madam norton will come to York, there i shill meet you if
God be willing and if you pleased, so be not angterie till you know
the trutes of things.

George Nelon I give my to me lady, and to Mr. Aysenby, and to
madam norton March, the 19th; 1706.

This is for madam mary norton disforth Lady she went to York.

Madam Mary. Deare loving sweet lady, i hope you are well. Do not go
to london, for they will put you in the nunnery; and heed not Mrs.
Lucy what she saith to you, for she will ly and ceat you. go from to
another Place, and we will gate wed so with speed, mind what i write
to you, for if they gate you to london they will keep you there; and
so let us gate wed, and we will both go. so if you go to london, you
rueing your self, so heed not what none of them saith to you. let us
gate wed, and we shall lie to gader any time. i will do any thing
for you to my poore. i hope the devill will faile them all, for a
hellish Company there be. from there cursed trick and mischiefus
ways good lord bless and deliver both you and me.

I think to be at york the 24 day.

This is for madam mary norton to go to london for a lady that
belongs to dishforth.

Madam Mary, i hope you are well, i am soary that you went away from
York, deare loving sweet lady, i writt to let you know that i do
remain faithful; and if can let me know where i can meet you, i will
wed you, and I will do any thing to my poor; for you are a good
woman, and will be a loving Misteris. i am in troubel for you, so if
you will come to york i will wed you. so with speed come, and i will
have none but you. so, sweet love, heed not what to say to me, and
with speed come: heed not what none of them say to you; your Maid
makes you believe ought.

So deare love think of Mr. george Nillson with speed; i sent you 2
or 3 letters before.

I gave misteris elcock some nots, and thay put me in pruson all the
night for me pains, and non new whear i was, and i did gat cold.

But it is for mrs. Lucy to go a good way from home, for in york and
round about she is known; to writ any more her deeds, the same will
tell hor soul is black within, hor corkis stinks of hell.
March 19th, 1706.


[Footnote 1: This paper is No. 328 in the original issue, but Steele
omitted it from the reprint and gave in its place the paper by Addison
which here stands next to it marked with the same number, 328. The paper
of Addison's had formed no part of the original issue. Of the original
No. 328 Steele inserted a censure at the end of No. 330.]

[Footnote 2: See No. 324.]

[Footnote 3: In some counties 20, in some 24, and in others 30 acres of

* * * * *

No. 328. Monday, March 17, 1712. Addison.

Nullum me a labore reclinat otium.



As I believe this is the first Complaint that ever was made to you of
this nature, so you are the first Person I ever could prevail upon my
self to lay it before. When I tell you I have a healthy vigorous
Constitution, a plentiful Estate, no inordinate Desires, and am
married to a virtuous lovely Woman, who neither wants Wit nor
Good-Nature, and by whom I have a numerous Offspring to perpetuate my
Family, you will naturally conclude me a happy Man. But,
notwithstanding these promising Appearances, I am so far from it, that
the prospect of being ruin'd and undone, by a sort of Extravagance
which of late Years is in a less degree crept into every fashionable
Family, deprives me of all the Comforts of my Life, and renders me the
most anxious miserable Man on Earth. My Wife, who was the only Child
and darling Care of an indulgent Mother, employ'd her early Years in
learning all those Accomplishments we generally understand by good
Breeding and polite Education. She sings, dances, plays on the Lute
and Harpsicord, paints prettily, is a perfect Mistress of the French
Tongue, and has made a considerable Progress in Italian. She is
besides excellently skill'd in all domestick Sciences, as Preserving,
Pickling, Pastry, making Wines of Fruits of our own Growth,
Embroydering, and Needleworks of every Kind. Hitherto you will be apt
to think there is very little Cause of Complaint; but suspend your
Opinion till I have further explain'd my self, and then I make no
question you will come over to mine. You are not to imagine I find
fault that she either possesses or takes delight in the Exercise of
those Qualifications I just now mention'd; tis the immoderate
Fondness she has to them that I lament, and that what is only design'd
for the innocent Amusement and Recreation of Life, is become the whole
Business and Study of hers. The six Months we are in Town (for the
Year is equally divided between that and the Country) from almost
Break of Day till Noon, the whole Morning is laid out in practising
with her several Masters; and to make up the Losses occasion'd by her
Absence in Summer, every Day in the Week their Attendance is requir'd;
and as they all are People eminent in their Professions, their Skill
and Time must be recompensed accordingly: So how far these Articles
extend, I leave you to judge. Limning, one would think, is no
expensive Diversion, but as she manages the Matter, tis a very
considerable Addition to her Disbursements; Which you will easily
believe, when you know she paints Fans for all her Female
Acquaintance, and draws all her Relations Pictures in Miniature; the
first must be mounted by no body but Colmar, and the other set by no
body but Charles Mather. What follows, is still much worse than the
former; for, as I told you, she is a great Artist at her Needle, tis
incredible what Sums she expends in Embroidery; For besides what is
appropriated to her personal Use, as Mantuas, Petticoats, Stomachers,
Handkerchiefs, Purses, Pin-cushions, and Working Aprons, she keeps
four French Protestants continually employ'd in making divers Pieces
of superfluous Furniture, as Quilts, Toilets, Hangings for Closets,
Beds, Window-Curtains, easy Chairs, and Tabourets: Nor have I any
hopes of ever reclaiming her from this Extravagance, while she
obstinately persists in thinking it a notable piece of good
Housewifry, because they are made at home, and she has had some share
in the Performance. There would be no end of relating to you the
Particulars of the annual Charge, in furnishing her Store-Room with a
Profusion of Pickles and Preserves; for she is not contented with
having every thing, unless it be done every way, in which she consults
an Hereditary Book of Receipts; for her female Ancestors have been
always fam'd for good Housewifry, one of whom is made immortal, by
giving her Name to an Eye-Water and two sorts of Puddings. I cannot
undertake to recite all her medicinal Preparations, as Salves,
Cerecloths, Powders, Confects, Cordials, Ratafia, Persico,
Orange-flower, and Cherry-Brandy, together with innumerable sorts of
Simple Waters. But there is nothing I lay so much to Heart, as that
detestable Catalogue of counterfeit Wines, which derive their Names
from the Fruits, Herbs, or Trees of whose Juices they are chiefly
compounded: They are loathsome to the Taste, and pernicious to the
Health; and as they seldom survive the Year, and then are thrown away,
under a false Pretence of Frugality, I may affirm they stand me in
more than if I entertain'd all our Visiters with the best Burgundy and
Champaign. Coffee, Chocolate, Green, Imperial, Peco, and Bohea-Tea
seem to be Trifles; but when the proper Appurtenances of the Tea-Table
are added, they swell the Account higher than one would imagine. I
cannot conclude without doing her Justice in one Article; where her
Frugality is so remarkable, I must not deny her the Merit of it, and
that is in relation to her Children, who are all confin'd, both Boys
and Girls, to one large Room in the remotest Part of the House, with
Bolts on the Doors and Bars to the Windows, under the Care and Tuition
of an old Woman, who had been dry Nurse to her Grandmother. This is
their Residence all the Year round; and as they are never allow'd to
appear, she prudently thinks it needless to be at any Expence in
Apparel or Learning. Her eldest Daughter to this day would have
neither read nor writ, if it had not been for the Butler, who being
the Son of a Country Attorney, has taught her such a Hand as is
generally used for engrossing Bills in Chancery. By this time I have
sufficiently tired your Patience with my domestick Grievances; which I
hope you will agree could not well be contain'd in a narrower Compass,
when you consider what a Paradox I undertook to maintain in the
Beginning of my Epistle, and which manifestly appears to be but too
melancholy a Truth. And now I heartily wish the Relation I have given
of my Misfortunes may be of Use and Benefit to the Publick. By the
Example I have set before them, the truly virtuous Wives may learn to
avoid those Errors which have so unhappily mis-led mine, and which are
visibly these three. First, in mistaking the proper Objects of her
Esteem, and fixing her Affections upon such things as are only the
Trappings and Decorations of her Sex. Secondly, In not distinguishing
what becomes the different Stages of Life. And, Lastly, The Abuse and
Corruption of some excellent Qualities, which, if circumscrib'd within
just Bounds, would have been the Blessing and Prosperity of her
Family, but by a vicious Extreme are like to be the Bane and
Destruction of it.


* * * * *

No. 329. Tuesday, March 18, 1712. Addison.

Ire tamen restat, Numa quo devenit et Ancus.


My friend Sir ROGER DE COVERLEY told me tother Night, that he had been
reading my Paper upon Westminster Abby, in which, says he, there are a
great many ingenious Fancies. He told me at the same time, that he
observed I had promised another Paper upon the Tombs, and that he should
be glad to go and see them with me, not having visited them since he had
read History. I could not at first imagine how this came into the
Knights Head, till I recollected that he had been very busy all last
Summer upon Bakers Chronicle, which he has quoted several times in his
Disputes with Sir ANDREW FREEPORT since his last coming to Town.
Accordingly I promised to call upon him the next Morning, that we might
go together to the Abby.

I found the Knight under his Butlers Hands, who always shaves him. He
was no sooner Dressed, than he called for a Glass of the Widow Trueby's
Water, which he told me he always drank before he went abroad. He
recommended me to a Dram of it at the same time, with so much
Heartiness, that I could not forbear drinking it. As soon as I had got
it down, I found it very unpalatable; upon which the Knight observing
that I [had] made several wry Faces, told me that he knew I should not
like it at first, but that it was the best thing in the World against
the Stone or Gravel.

I could have wished indeed that he had acquainted me with the Virtues of
it sooner; but it was too late to complain, and I knew what he had done
was out of Good-will. Sir ROGER told me further, that he looked upon it
to be very good for a Man whilst he staid in Town, to keep off
Infection, and that he got together a Quantity of it upon the first News
of the Sickness being at Dautzick: When of a sudden turning short to one
of his Servants, who stood behind him, he bid him call [a [1]] Hackney
Coach, and take care it was an elderly Man that drove it.

He then resumed his Discourse upon Mrs. Trueby's Water, telling me that
the Widow Trueby was one who did more good than all the Doctors and
Apothecaries in the County: That she distilled every Poppy that grew
within five Miles of her; that she distributed her Water gratis among
all Sorts of People; to which the Knight added, that she had a very
great Jointure, and that the whole Country would fain have it a Match
between him and her; and truly, says Sir ROGER, if I had not been
engaged, perhaps I could not have done better.

His Discourse was broken off by his Man's telling him he had called a
Coach. Upon our going to it, after having cast his Eye upon the Wheels,
he asked the Coachman if his Axeltree was good; upon the Fellows
telling him he would warrant it, the Knight turned to me, told me he
looked like an honest Man, and went in without further Ceremony.

We had not gone far, when Sir ROGER popping out his Head, called the
Coach-man down from his Box, and upon his presenting himself at the
Window, asked him if he smoaked; as I was considering what this would
end in, he bid him stop by the way at any good Tobacconists, and take
in a Roll of their best Virginia. Nothing material happened in the
remaining part of our Journey, till we were set down at the Westend of
the Abby.

As we went up the Body of the Church, the Knight pointed at the Trophies
upon one of the new Monuments, and cry'd out, A brave Man, I warrant
him! Passing afterwards by Sir Cloudsly Shovel, he flung his Hand that
way, and cry'd Sir Cloudsly Shovel! a very gallant Man! As we stood
before Busby's Tomb, the Knight utter'd himself again after the same
Manner, Dr. Busby, a great Man! he whipp'd my Grandfather; a very great
Man! I should have gone to him myself, if I had not been a Blockhead; a
very great Man!

We were immediately conducted into the little Chappel on the right hand.
Sir ROGER planting himself at our Historians Elbow, was very attentive
to every thing he said, particularly to the Account he gave us of the
Lord who had cut off the King of Moroccos Head. Among several other
Figures, he was very well pleased to see the Statesman Cecil upon his
Knees; and, concluding them all to be great Men, was conducted to the
Figure which represents that Martyr to good Housewifry, who died by the
prick of a Needle. Upon our Interpreters telling us, that she was a
Maid of Honour to Queen Elizabeth, the Knight was very inquisitive into
her Name and Family; and after having regarded her Finger for some time,
I wonder, says he, that Sir Richard Baker has said nothing of her in his

We were then convey'd to the two Coronation-Chairs, where my old Friend,
after having heard that the Stone underneath the most ancient of them,
which was brought from Scotland, was called Jacob's Pillar, sat himself
down in the Chair; and looking like the Figure of an old Gothick King,
asked our Interpreter, What Authority they had to say, that Jacob had
ever been in Scotland? The Fellow, instead of returning him an Answer,
told him, that he hoped his Honour would pay his Forfeit. I could
observe Sir ROGER a little ruffled upon being thus trepanned; but our
Guide not insisting upon his Demand, the Knight soon recovered his good
Humour, and whispered in my Ear, that if WILL. WIMBLE were with us, and
saw those two Chairs, it would go hard but he would get a
Tobacco-Stopper out of one or tother of them.

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