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The Spectator, Volume 1 by Joseph Addison and Richard Steele

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Case the Passions generally correspond with the Make of the Body. We do
not find the Fury of a Lion in so weak and defenceless an Animal as a
Lamb, nor the Meekness of a Lamb in a Creature so armed for Battel and
Assault as the Lion. In the same manner, we find that particular Animals
have a more or less exquisite Sharpness and Sagacity in those particular
Senses which most turn to their Advantage, and in which their Safety and
Welfare is the most concerned.

Nor must we here omit that great Variety of Arms with which Nature has
differently fortified the Bodies of several kind of Animals, such as
Claws, Hoofs, and Horns, Teeth, and Tusks, a Tail, a Sting, a Trunk, or
a _Proboscis_. It is likewise observed by Naturalists, that it must be
some hidden Principle distinct from what we call Reason, which instructs
Animals in the Use of these their Arms, and teaches them to manage them
to the best Advantage; because they naturally defend themselves with
that Part in which their Strength lies, before the Weapon be formed in
it; as is remarkable in Lambs, which tho' they are bred within Doors,
and never saw the Actions of their own Species, push at those who
approach them with their Foreheads, before the first budding of a Horn

I shall add to these general Observations, an Instance which Mr. _Lock_
has given us of Providence even in the Imperfections of a Creature which
seems the meanest and most despicable in the whole animal World. _We
may_, says he, _from the Make of an Oyster, or Cockle, conclude, that it
has not so many nor so quick Senses as a Man, or several other Animals:
Nor if it had, would it, in that State and Incapacity of transferring it
self from one Place to another, be bettered by them. What good would
Sight and Hearing do to a Creature, that cannot move it self to, or from
the Object, wherein at a distance it perceives Good or Evil? And would
not Quickness of Sensation be an Inconvenience to an Animal, that must
be still where Chance has once placed it; and there receive the Afflux
of colder or warmer, clean or foul Water, as it happens to come to it_.

I shall add to this Instance out of Mr. _Lock_ another out of the
learned Dr. _Moor_, [4] who cites it from _Cardan_, in relation to
another Animal which Providence has left Defective, but at the same time
has shewn its Wisdom in the Formation of that Organ in which it seems
chiefly to have failed. _What is more obvious and ordinary than a Mole?
and yet what more palpable Argument of Providence than she? The Members
of her Body are so exactly fitted to her Nature and Manner of Life: For
her Dwelling being under Ground where nothing is to be seen, Nature has
so obscurely fitted her with Eyes, that Naturalists can hardly agree
whether she have any Sight at all or no. But for Amends, what she is
capable of for her Defence and Warning of Danger, she has very eminently
conferred upon her; for she is exceeding quick of hearing. And then her
short Tail and short Legs, but broad Fore-feet armed with sharp Claws,
we see by the Event to what Purpose they are, she so swiftly working her
self under Ground, and making her way so fast in the Earth as they that
behold it cannot but admire it. Her Legs therefore are short, that she
need dig no more than will serve the mere Thickness of her Body; and her
Fore-feet are broad that she may scoop away much Earth at a time; and
little or no Tail she has, because she courses it not on the Ground,
like the Rat or Mouse, of whose Kindred she is, but lives under the
Earth, and is fain to dig her self a Dwelling there. And she making her
way through so thick an Element, which will not yield easily, as the Air
or _the Wafer, it had been dangerous to have drawn so long a Train
behind her; for her Enemy might fall upon her Rear, and fetch her out,
before she had compleated or got full Possession of her Works_.

I cannot forbear mentioning Mr. _Boyle's_ Remark upon this last
Creature, who I remember somewhere in his Works observes, [5] that
though the Mole be not totally blind (as it is commonly thought) she has
not Sight enough to distinguish particular Objects. Her Eye is said to
have but one Humour in it, which is supposed to give her the Idea of
Light, but of nothing else, and is so formed that this Idea is probably
painful to the Animal. Whenever she comes up into broad Day she might be
in Danger of being taken, unless she were thus affected by a Light
striking upon her Eye, and immediately warning her to bury herself in
her proper Element. More Sight would be useless to her, as none at all
might be fatal.

I have only instanced such Animals as seem the most imperfect Works of
Nature; and if Providence shews it self even in the Blemishes of these
Creatures, how much more does it discover it self in the several
Endowments which it has variously bestowed upon such Creatures as are
more or less finished and compleated in their several Faculties,
according to the condition of Life in which they are posted.

I could wish our Royal Society would compile a Body of Natural History,
the best that could be gather'd together from Books and Observations. If
the several Writers among them took each his particular Species, and
gave us a distinct Account of its Original, Birth and Education; its
Policies, Hostilities and Alliances, with the Frame and Texture of its
inward and outward Parts, and particularly those that distinguish it
from all other Animals, with their peculiar Aptitudes for the State of
Being in which Providence has placed them, it would be one of the best
Services their Studies could do Mankind, and not a little redound to the
Glory of the All-wise Contriver.

It is true, such a Natural History, after all the Disquisitions of the
Learned, would be infinitely Short and Defective. Seas and Desarts hide
Millions of Animals from our Observation. Innumerable Artifices and
Stratagems are acted in the _Howling Wilderness_ and in the _Great
Deep_, that can never come to our Knowledge. Besides that there are
infinitely more Species of Creatures which are not to be seen without,
nor indeed with the help of the finest Glasses, than of such as are
bulky enough for the naked Eye to take hold of. However from the
Consideration of such Animals as lie within the Compass of our
Knowledge, we might easily form a Conclusion of the rest, that the same
Variety of Wisdom and Goodness runs through the whole Creation, and puts
every Creature in a Condition to provide for its Safety and Subsistence
in its proper Station.

_Tully_ has given us an admirable Sketch of Natural History, in his
second Book concerning the Nature of the Gods; and then in a Stile so
raised by Metaphors and Descriptions, that it lifts the Subject above
Raillery and Ridicule, which frequently fall on such nice Observations
when they pass through the Hands of an ordinary Writer.


[Footnote 1: 'Bayle's Dictionary', here quoted, first appeared in
English in 1710. Pierre Bayle himself had first produced it in two folio
vols. in 1695-6, and was engaged in controversies caused by it until his
death in 1706, at the age of 59. He was born at Carlat, educated at the
universities of Puylaurens and Toulouse, was professor of Philosophy
successively at Sedan and Rotterdam till 1693, when he was deprived for
scepticism. He is said to have worked fourteen hours a day for 40 years,
and has been called 'the Shakespeare of Dictionary Makers.']

[Footnote 2: Captain William Dampier's 'Voyages round the World'
appeared in 3 vols., 1697-1709. The quotation is from vol. i. p. 39 (Ed.
1699, the Fourth). Dampier was born in 1652, and died about 1712.]

[Footnote 3: 'Essay on Human Understanding', Bk. II. ch. 9, Sec. 13.]

[Footnote 4: 'Antidote against Atheism', Bk. II. ch. 10, Sec. 5.]

[Footnote 5: 'Disquisition about the Final Causes of Natural Things',
Sect. 2.]

* * * * *

No. 122. Friday, July 20, 1711. Addison.

'Comes jucundus in via pro vehiculo est.'

Publ. Syr. Frag.

A man's first Care should be to avoid the Reproaches of his own Heart;
his next, to escape the Censures of the World: If the last interferes
with the former, it ought to be entirely neglected; but otherwise, there
cannot be a greater Satisfaction to an honest Mind, than to see those
Approbations which it gives it self seconded by the Applauses of the
Publick: A Man is more sure of his Conduct, when the Verdict which he
passes upon his own Behaviour is thus warranted and confirmed by the
Opinion of all that know him.

My worthy Friend Sir Roger is one of those who is not only at Peace
within himself, but beloved and esteemed by all about him. He receives a
suitable Tribute for his universal Benevolence to Mankind, in the
Returns of Affection and Good-will, which are paid him by every one that
lives within his Neighbourhood. I lately met with two or three odd
Instances of that general Respect which is shown to the good old Knight.
He would needs carry _Will. Wimble_ and myself with him to the
County-Assizes: As we were upon the Road _Will. Wimble_ joined a couple
of plain Men who rid before us, and conversed with them for some Time;
during which my Friend Sir Roger acquainted me with their Characters.

The first of them, says he, that has a Spaniel by his Side, is a Yeoman
of about an hundred Pounds a Year, an honest Man: He is just within the
Game-Act, and qualified to kill an Hare or a Pheasant: He knocks down a
Dinner with his Gun twice or thrice a Week; and by that means lives much
cheaper than those who have not so good an Estate as himself. He would
be a good Neighbour if he did not destroy so many Partridges: in short,
he is a very sensible Man; shoots flying; and has been several times
Foreman of the Petty-Jury.

The other that rides along with him is _Tom Touchy_, a Fellow famous for
_taking the Law_ of every Body. There is not one in the Town where he
lives that he has not sued at a Quarter-Sessions. The Rogue had once the
Impudence to go to Law with the _Widow_. His Head is full of Costs,
Damages, and Ejectments: He plagued a couple of honest Gentlemen so long
for a Trespass in breaking one of his Hedges, till he was forced to sell
the Ground it enclosed to defray the Charges of the Prosecution: His
Father left him fourscore Pounds a Year; but he has _cast_ and been cast
so often, that he is not now worth thirty. I suppose he is going upon
the old Business of the Willow-Tree.

As Sir ROGER was giving me this Account of Tom Touchy, _Will. Wimble_
and his two Companions stopped short till we came up to them. After
having paid their Respects to Sir ROGER, _Will_. told him that Mr.
_Touchy_ and he must appeal to him upon a Dispute that arose between
them. _Will_. it seems had been giving his Fellow-Traveller an Account
of his Angling one Day in such a Hole; when _Tom Touchy_, instead of
hearing out his Story, told him that Mr. such an One, if he pleased,
might _take the Law of him_ for fishing in that Part of the River. My
Friend Sir ROGER heard them both, upon a round Trot; and after having
paused some time told them, with the Air of a Man who would not give his
Judgment rashly, that _much might be said on both Sides_. They were
neither of them dissatisfied with the Knight's Determination, because
neither of them found himself in the Wrong by it: Upon which we made the
best of our Way to the Assizes.

The Court was sat before Sir ROGER came; but notwithstanding all the
Justices had taken their Places upon the Bench, they made room for the
old Knight at the Head of them; who for his Reputation in the Country
took occasion to whisper in the Judge's Ear, _That he was glad his
Lordship had met with so much good Weather in his Circuit_. I was
listening to the Proceeding of the Court with much Attention, and
infinitely pleased with that great Appearance and Solemnity which so
properly accompanies such a publick Administration of our Laws; when,
after about an Hour's Sitting, I observed to my great Surprize, in the
Midst of a Trial, that my Friend Sir ROGER was getting up to speak. I
was in some Pain for him, till I found he had acquitted himself of two
or three Sentences, with a Look of much Business and great Intrepidity.

Upon his first Rising the Court was hushed, and a general Whisper ran
among the Country People that Sir ROGER _was up_. The Speech he made was
so little to the Purpose, that I shall not trouble my Readers with an
Account of it; and I believe was not so much designed by the Knight
himself to inform the Court, as to give him a Figure in my Eye, and keep
up his Credit in the Country.

I was highly delighted, when the Court rose, to see the Gentlemen of the
Country gathering about my old Friend, and striving who should
compliment him most; at the same time that the ordinary People gazed
upon him at a distance, not a little admiring his Courage, that was not
afraid to speak to the Judge.

In our Return home we met with a very odd Accident; which I cannot
forbear relating, because it shews how desirous all who know Sir ROGER
are of giving him Marks of their Esteem. When we were arrived upon the
Verge of his Estate, we stopped at a little Inn to rest our selves and
our Horses. The Man of the House had it seems been formerly a Servant in
the Knight's Family; and to do Honour to his old Master, had some time
since, unknown to Sir ROGER, put him up in a Sign-post before the Door;
so that _the Knight's Head_ had hung out upon the Road about a Week
before he himself knew any thing of the Matter. As soon as Sir ROGER was
acquainted with it, finding that his Servant's Indiscretion proceeded
wholly from Affection and Good-will, he only told him that he had made
him too high a Compliment; and when the Fellow seemed to think that
could hardly be, added with a more decisive Look, That it was too great
an Honour for any Man under a Duke; but told him at the same time, that
it might be altered with a very few Touches, and that he himself would
be at the Charge of it. Accordingly they got a Painter by the Knight's
Directions to add a pair of Whiskers to the Face, and by a little
Aggravation to the Features to change it into the _Saracen's Head_. I
should not have known this Story had not the Inn-keeper, upon Sir
ROGER'S alighting, told him in my Hearing, That his Honour's Head was
brought back last Night with the Alterations that he had ordered to be
made in it. Upon this my Friend with his usual Chearfulness related the
Particulars above-mentioned, and ordered the Head to be brought into the
Room. I could not forbear discovering greater Expressions of Mirth than
ordinary upon the Appearance of this monstrous Face, under which,
notwithstanding it was made to frown and stare in a most extraordinary
manner, I could still discover a distant Resemblance of my old Friend.
Sir ROGER, upon seeing me laugh, desired me to tell him truly if I
thought it possible for People to know him in that Disguise. I at first
kept my usual Silence; but upon the Knight's conjuring me to tell him
whether it was not still more like himself than a _Saracen_, I composed
my Countenance in the best manner I could, and replied, _That much might
be said on both Sides_.

These several Adventures, with the Knight's Behaviour in them, gave me
as pleasant a Day as ever I met with in any of my Travels.


* * * * *

No. 123. Saturday, July 21, 1711. Addison.

'Doctrina sed vim promovet insitam,
Rectique cultus pectora roborant:
Utcunque defecere mores,
Dedecorant bene nata culpae.'


As I was Yesterday taking the Air with my Friend Sir ROGER, we were met
by a fresh-coloured ruddy young Man, who rid by us full speed, with a
couple of Servants behind him. Upon my Enquiry who he was, Sir ROGER
told me that he was a young Gentleman of a considerable Estate, who had
been educated by a tender Mother that lives not many Miles from the
Place where we were. She is a very good Lady, says my Friend, but took
so much care of her Son's Health, that she has made him good for
nothing. She quickly found that Reading was bad for his Eyes, and that
Writing made his Head ache. He was let loose among the Woods as soon as
he was able to ride on Horseback, or to carry a Gun upon his Shoulder.
To be brief, I found, by my Friend's Account of him, that he had got a
great Stock of Health, but nothing else; and that if it were a Man's
Business only to live, there would not be a more accomplished young
Fellow in the whole Country.

The Truth of it is, since my residing in these Parts I have seen and
heard innumerable Instances of young Heirs and elder Brothers, who
either from their own reflecting upon the Estates they are born to, and
therefore thinking all other Accomplishments unnecessary, or from
hearing these Notions frequently inculcated to them by the Flattery of
their Servants and Domesticks, or from the same foolish Thought
prevailing in those who have the Care of their Education, are of no
manner of use but to keep up their Families, and transmit their Lands
and Houses in a Line to Posterity.

This makes me often think on a Story I have heard of two Friends, which
I shall give my Reader at large, under feigned Names. The Moral of it
may, I hope, be useful, though there are some Circumstances which make
it rather appear like a Novel, than a true Story.

_Eudoxus_ and _Leontine_ began the World with small Estates. They were
both of them Men of good Sense and great Virtue. They prosecuted their
Studies together in their earlier Years, and entered into such a
Friendship as lasted to the End of their Lives. _Eudoxus_, at his first
setting out in the World, threw himself into a Court, where by his
natural Endowments and his acquired Abilities he made his way from one
Post to another, till at length he had raised a very considerable
Fortune. _Leontine_ on the contrary sought all Opportunities of
improving his Mind by Study, Conversation, and Travel. He was not only
acquainted with all the Sciences, but with the most eminent Professors
of them throughout _Europe_. He knew perfectly well the Interests of its
Princes, with the Customs and Fashions of their Courts, and could scarce
meet with the Name of an extraordinary Person in the _Gazette_ whom he
had not either talked to or seen. In short, he had so well mixt and
digested his Knowledge of Men and Books, that he made one of the most
accomplished Persons of his Age. During the whole Course of his Studies
and Travels he kept up a punctual Correspondence with _Eudoxus_, who
often made himself acceptable to the principal Men about Court by the
Intelligence which he received from _Leontine_. When they were both
turn'd of Forty (an Age in which, according to Mr. Cowley, there is no
dallying with Life [1]) they determined, pursuant to the Resolution they
had taken in the beginning of their Lives, to retire, and pass the
Remainder of their Days in the Country. In order to this, they both of
them married much about the same time. _Leontine_, with his own and his
Wife's Fortune, bought a Farm of three hundred a Year, which lay within
the Neighbourhood of his Friend _Eudoxus_, who had purchased an Estate
of as many thousands. They were both of them _Fathers_ about the same
time, _Eudoxus_ having a Son born to him, and _Leontine_ a Daughter; but
to the unspeakable Grief of the latter, his young Wife (in whom all his
Happiness was wrapt up) died in a few Days after the Birth of her
Daughter. His Affliction would have been insupportable, had not he been
comforted by the daily Visits and Conversations of his Friend. As they
were one Day talking together with their usual Intimacy, _Leontine_,
considering how incapable he was of giving his Daughter a proper
education in his own House, and _Eudoxus_ reflecting on the ordinary
Behaviour of a Son who knows himself to be the Heir of a great Estate,
they both agreed upon an Exchange of Children, namely that the Boy
should be bred up with _Leontine_ as his Son, and that the Girl should
live with _Eudoxus_ as his Daughter, till they were each of them arrived
at Years of Discretion. The Wife of _Eudoxus_, knowing that her Son
could not be so advantageously brought up as under the Care of
_Leontine_, and considering at the same time that he would be
perpetually under her own Eye, was by degrees prevailed upon to fall in
with the Project. She therefore took _Leonilla_, for that was the Name
of the Girl, and educated her as her own Daughter. The two Friends on
each side had wrought themselves to such an habitual Tenderness for the
Children who were under their Direction, that each of them had the real
Passion of a Father, where the Title was but imaginary. _Florio_, the
Name of the young Heir that lived with _Leontine_, though he had all the
Duty and Affection imaginable for his supposed Parent, was taught to
rejoice at the Sight of _Eudoxus_, who visited his Friend very
frequently, and was dictated by his natural Affection, as well as by the
Rules of Prudence, to make himself esteemed and beloved by _Florio_. The
Boy was now old enough to know his supposed Father's Circumstances, and
that therefore he was to make his way in the World by his own Industry.
This Consideration grew stronger in him every Day, and produced so good
an Effect, that he applied himself with more than ordinary Attention to
the Pursuit of every thing which _Leontine_ recommended to him. His
natural Abilities, which were very good, assisted by the Directions of
so excellent a Counsellor, enabled him to make a quicker Progress than
ordinary through all the Parts of his Education. Before he was twenty
Years of Age, having finished his Studies and Exercises with great
Applause, he was removed from the University to the Inns of Court, where
there are very few that make themselves considerable Proficients in the
Studies of the Place, who know they shall arrive at great Estates
without them. This was not _Florio's_ Case; he found that three hundred
a Year was but a poor Estate for _Leontine_ and himself to live upon, so
that he Studied without Intermission till he gained a very good Insight
into the Constitution and Laws of his Country.

I should have told my Reader, that whilst _Florio_ lived at the House of
his Foster-father, he was always an acceptable Guest in the Family of
_Eudoxus_, where he became acquainted with _Leonilla_ from her Infancy.
His Acquaintance with her by degrees grew into Love, which in a Mind
trained up in all the Sentiments of Honour and Virtue became a very
uneasy Passion. He despaired of gaining an Heiress of so great a
Fortune, and would rather have died than attempted it by any indirect
Methods. _Leonilla_, who was a Woman of the greatest Beauty joined with
the greatest Modesty, entertained at the same time a secret Passion for
_Florio_, but conducted her self with so much Prudence that she never
gave him the least Intimation of it. _Florio_ was now engaged in all
those Arts and Improvements that are proper to raise a Man's private
Fortune, and give him a Figure in his Country, but secretly tormented
with that Passion which burns with the greatest Fury in a virtuous and
noble Heart, when he received a sudden Summons from _Leontine_ to repair
to him into the Country the next Day. For it seems _Eudoxus_ was so
filled with the Report of his Son's Reputation, that he could no longer
withhold making himself known to him. The Morning after his Arrival at
the House of his supposed Father, _Leontine_ told him that _Eudoxus_ had
something of great Importance to communicate to him; upon which the good
Man embraced him, and wept. _Florio_ was no sooner arrived at the great
House that stood in his Neighbourhood, but _Eudoxus_ took him by the
Hand, after the first Salutes were over, and conducted him into his
Closet. He there opened to him the whole Secret of his Parentage and
Education, concluding after this manner: _I have no other way left of
acknowledging my Gratitude to_ Leontine_, than by marrying you to his
Daughter. He shall not lose the Pleasure of being your Father by the
Discovery I have made to you._ Leonilla _too shall be still my Daughter;
her filial Piety, though misplaced, has been so exemplary that it
deserves the greatest Reward I can confer upon it. You shall have the
Pleasure of seeing a great Estate fall to you, which you would have lost
the Relish of had you known your self born to it. Continue only to
deserve it in the same manner you did before you were possessed of it. I
have left your Mother in the next Room. Her Heart yearns towards you.
She is making the same Discoveries to_ Leonilla _which I have made to
your self. Florio_ was so overwhelmed with this Profusion of Happiness,
that he was not able to make a Reply, but threw himself down at his
Father's Feet, and amidst a Flood of Tears, Kissed and embraced his
Knees, asking his Blessing, and expressing in dumb Show those Sentiments
of Love, Duty, and Gratitude that were too big for Utterance. To
conclude, the happy Pair were married, and half _Eudoxus's_ Estate
settled upon them. _Leontine_ and _Eudoxus_ passed the remainder of
their Lives together; and received in the dutiful and affectionate
Behaviour of _Florio_ and _Leonilla_ the just Recompence, as well as the
natural Effects of that Care which they had bestowed upon them in their


[Footnote 1: Essay 'On the Danger of Procrastination:'

'There's no fooling with Life when it is once turn'd beyond Forty.']

* * * * *

No. 124. Monday, July 23, 1711. Addison.

[Greek (transliterated): Mega Biblion, mega kakon.]

A Man who publishes his Works in a Volume, has an infinite Advantage
over one who communicates his Writings to the World in loose Tracts and
single Pieces. We do not expect to meet with any thing in a bulky
Volume, till after some heavy Preamble, and several Words of Course, to
prepare the Reader for what follows: Nay, Authors have established it as
a kind of Rule, that a Man ought to be dull sometimes; as the most
severe Reader makes Allowances for many Rests and Nodding-places in a
Voluminous Writer. This gave Occasion to the famous Greek Proverb which
I have chosen for my Motto, _That a great Book is a great Evil._

On the contrary, those who publish their Thoughts in distinct Sheets,
and as it were by Piece-meal, have none of these Advantages. We must
immediately fall into our Subject, and treat every Part of it in a
lively Manner, or our Papers are thrown by as dull and insipid: Our
Matter must lie close together, and either be wholly new in itself, or
in the Turn it receives from our Expressions. Were the Books of our best
Authors thus to be retailed to the Publick, and every Page submitted to
the Taste of forty or fifty thousand Readers, I am afraid we should
complain of many flat Expressions, trivial Observations, beaten Topicks,
and common Thoughts, which go off very well in the Lump. At the same
Time, notwithstanding some Papers may be made up of broken Hints and
irregular Sketches, it is often expected that every Sheet should be a
kind of Treatise, and make out in Thought what it wants in Bulk: That a
Point of Humour should be worked up in all its Parts; and a Subject
touched upon in its most essential Articles, without the Repetitions,
Tautologies and Enlargements, that are indulged to longer Labours. The
ordinary Writers of Morality prescribe to their Readers after the
Galenick way; their Medicines are made up in large Quantities. An
Essay-Writer must practise in the Chymical Method, and give the Virtue
of a full Draught in a few Drops. Were all Books reduced thus to their
Quintessence, many a bulky Author would make his Appearance in a
Penny-Paper: There would be scarce such a thing in Nature as a Folio.
The Works of an Age would be contained on a few Shelves; not to mention
millions of Volumes that would be utterly annihilated.

I cannot think that the Difficulty of furnishing out separate Papers of
this Nature, has hindered Authors from communicating their Thoughts to
the World after such a Manner: Though I must confess I am amazed that
the Press should be only made use of in this Way by News-Writers, and
the Zealots of Parties; as if it were not more advantageous to Mankind,
to be instructed in Wisdom and Virtue, than in Politicks; and to be made
good Fathers, Husbands and Sons, than Counsellors and Statesmen. Had the
Philosophers and great Men of Antiquity, who took so much Pains in order
to instruct Mankind, and leave the World wiser and better than they
found it; had they, I say, been possessed of the Art of Printing, there
is no question but they would have made such an Advantage of it, in
dealing out their Lectures to the Publick. Our common Prints would be of
great Use were they thus calculated to diffuse good Sense through the
Bulk of a People, to clear up their Understandings, animate their Minds
with Virtue, dissipate the Sorrows of a heavy Heart, or unbend the Mind
from its more severe Employments with innocent Amusements. When
Knowledge, instead of being bound up in Books and kept in Libraries and
Retirements, is thus obtruded upon the Publick; when it is canvassed in
every Assembly, and exposed upon every Table, I cannot forbear
reflecting upon that Passage in the _Proverbs: Wisdom crieth without,
she uttereth her Voice in the Streets: she crieth in the chief Place of
Concourse, in the Openings of the Gates. In the City she uttereth her
Words, saying, How long, ye simple ones, will ye love Simplicity? and
the Scorners delight in their Scorning? and Fools hate Knowledge? [1]

The many Letters which come to me from Persons of the best Sense in both
Sexes, (for I may pronounce their Characters from their Way of Writing)
do not at a little encourage me in the Prosecution of this my
Undertaking: Besides that my Book-seller tells me, the Demand for these
my Papers increases daily. It is at his Instance that I shall continue
my _rural Speculations_ to the End of this Month; several having made up
separate Sets of them, as they have done before of those relating to
Wit, to Operas, to Points of Morality, or Subjects of Humour.

I am not at all mortified, when sometimes I see my Works thrown aside by
Men of no Taste nor Learning. There is a kind of Heaviness and Ignorance
that hangs upon the Minds of ordinary Men, which is too thick for
Knowledge to break through. Their Souls are not to be enlightened.

... Nox atra cava circumvolat umbra.

To these I must apply the Fable of the Mole, That after having consulted
many Oculists for the bettering of his Sight, was at last provided with
a good Pair of Spectacles; but upon his endeavouring to make use of
them, his Mother told him very prudently, 'That Spectacles, though they
might help the Eye of a Man, could be of no use to a Mole.' It is not
therefore for the Benefit of Moles that I publish these my daily Essays.

But besides such as are Moles through Ignorance, there are others who
are Moles through Envy. As it is said in the _Latin_ Proverb, 'That one
Man is a Wolf to another; [2] so generally speaking, one Author is a
Mole to another Author. It is impossible for them to discover Beauties
in one another's Works; they have Eyes only for Spots and Blemishes:
They can indeed see the Light as it is said of the Animals which are
their Namesakes, but the Idea of it is painful to them; they
immediately shut their Eyes upon it, and withdraw themselves into a
wilful Obscurity. I have already caught two or three of these dark
undermining Vermin, and intend to make a String of them, in order to
hang them up in one of my Papers, as an Example to all such voluntary


[Footnote 1: Proverbs i 20-22.]

[Footnote 2: Homo homini Lupus. Plautus Asin. Act ii sc. 4.]

* * * * *

No. 125. Tuesday, July 24, 1711. Addison.

'Ne pueri, ne tanta animis assuescite bella:
Neu patriae validas in viscera vertite vires.'


My worthy Friend Sir ROGER, when we are talking of the Malice of
Parties, very frequently tells us an Accident that happened to him when
he was a School-boy, which was at a time when the Feuds ran high between
the Roundheads and Cavaliers. This worthy Knight, being then but a
Stripling, had occasion to enquire which was the Way to St. _Anne's_
Lane, upon which the Person whom he spoke to, instead of answering his
Question, call'd him a young Popish Cur, and asked him who had made
_Anne_ a Saint? The Boy, being in some Confusion, enquired of the next
he met, which was the Way to _Anne's_ Lane; but was call'd a prick-eared
Cur for his Pains, and instead of being shewn the Way, was told that she
had been a Saint before he was born, and would be one after he was
hanged. Upon this, says Sir ROGER, I did not think fit to repeat the
former Question, but going into every Lane of the Neighbourhood, asked
what they called the Name of that Lane. By which ingenious Artifice he
found out the place he enquired after, without giving Offence to any
Party. Sir ROGER generally closes this Narrative with Reflections on the
Mischief that Parties do in the Country; how they spoil good
Neighbourhood, and make honest Gentlemen hate one another; besides that
they manifestly tend to the Prejudice of the Land-Tax, and the
Destruction of the Game.

There cannot a greater Judgment befal a Country than such a dreadful
Spirit of Division as rends a Government into two distinct People, and
makes them greater Strangers and more averse to one another, than if
they were actually two different Nations. The Effects of such a Division
are pernicious to the last degree, not only with regard to those
Advantages which they give the Common Enemy, but to those private Evils
which they produce in the Heart of almost every particular Person. This
Influence is very fatal both to Mens Morals and their Understandings; it
sinks the Virtue of a Nation, and not only so, but destroys even Common

A furious Party Spirit, when it rages in its full Violence, exerts it
self in Civil War and Bloodshed; and when it is under its greatest
Restraints naturally breaks out in Falshood, Detraction, Calumny, and a
partial Administration of Justice. In a Word, it fills a Nation with
Spleen and Rancour, and extinguishes all the Seeds of Good-Nature,
Compassion and Humanity.

_Plutarch_ says very finely, that a Man should not allow himself to hate
even his Enemies, because, says he, if you indulge this Passion in some
Occasions, it will rise of it self in others; if you hate your Enemies,
you will contract such a vicious Habit of Mind, as by degrees will break
out upon those who are your Friends, or those who are indifferent to
you. [1] I might here observe how admirably this Precept of Morality
(which derives the Malignity of Hatred from the Passion it self, and not
from its Object) answers to that great Rule which was dictated to the
World about an hundred Years before this Philosopher wrote; [2] but
instead of that, I shall only take notice, with a real Grief of Heart,
that the Minds of many good Men among us appear sowered with
Party-Principles, and alienated from one another in such a manner, as
seems to me altogether inconsistent with the Dictates either of Reason
or Religion. Zeal for a Publick Cause is apt to breed Passions in the
Hearts of virtuous Persons, to which the Regard of their own private
Interest would never have betrayed them.

If this Party-Spirit has so ill an Effect on our Morals, it has likewise
a very great one upon our Judgments. We often hear a poor insipid Paper
or Pamphlet cried up, and sometimes a noble Piece depreciated, by those
who are of a different Principle from the Author. One who is actuated by
this Spirit is almost under an Incapacity of discerning either real
Blemishes or Beauties. A Man of Merit in a different Principle, [is]
like an Object seen in two different Mediums, [that] appears crooked or
broken, however streight and entire it may be in it self. For this
Reason there is scarce a Person of any Figure in _England_, who does not
go by two [contrary Characters, [3]] as opposite to one another as Light
and Darkness. Knowledge and Learning suffer in [a [4]] particular manner
from this strange Prejudice, which at present prevails amongst all Ranks
and Degrees in the _British_ Nation. As Men formerly became eminent in
learned Societies by their Parts and Acquisitions, they now distinguish
themselves by the Warmth and Violence with which they espouse their
respective Parties. Books are valued upon the like Considerations: An
Abusive Scurrilous Style passes for Satyr, and a dull Scheme of Party
Notions is called fine Writing.

There is one Piece of Sophistry practised by both Sides, and that is the
taking any scandalous Story that has been ever whispered or invented of
a Private Man, for a known undoubted Truth, and raising suitable
Speculations upon it. Calumnies that have been never proved, or have
been often refuted, are the ordinary Postulatums of these infamous
Scriblers, upon which they proceed as upon first Principles granted by
all Men, though in their Hearts they know they are false, or at best
very doubtful. When they have laid these Foundations of Scurrility, it
is no wonder that their Superstructure is every way answerable to them.
If this shameless Practice of the present Age endures much longer,
Praise and Reproach will cease to be Motives of Action in good Men.

There are certain Periods of Time in all Governments when this inhuman
Spirit prevails. _Italy_ was long torn in Pieces by the _Guelfes_ and
_Gibellines_, and _France_ by those who were for and against the League:
But it is very unhappy for a Man to be born in such a stormy and
tempestuous Season. It is the restless Ambition of artful Men that thus
breaks a People into Factions, and draws several well-meaning [Persons
[5]] to their Interest by a Specious Concern for their Country. How many
honest Minds are filled with uncharitable and barbarous Notions, out of
their Zeal for the Publick Good? What Cruelties and Outrages would they
not commit against Men of an adverse Party, whom they would honour and
esteem, if instead of considering them as they are represented, they
knew them as they are? Thus are Persons of the greatest Probity seduced
into shameful Errors and Prejudices, and made bad Men even by that
noblest of Principles, the Love of their Country. I cannot here forbear
mentioning the famous _Spanish_ Proverb, _If there were neither Fools
nor Knaves in the World, all People would be of one Mind_.

For my own part, I could heartily wish that all honest Men would enter
into an Association, for the Support of one another against the
Endeavours of those whom they ought to look upon as their Common
Enemies, whatsoever Side they may belong to. Were there such an honest
[Body of Neutral [6]] Forces, we should never see the worst of Men in
great Figures of Life, because they are useful to a Party; nor the best
unregarded, because they are above practising those Methods which would
be grateful to their Faction. We should then single every Criminal out
of the Herd, and hunt him down, however formidable and overgrown he
might appear: On the contrary, we should shelter distressed Innocence,
and defend Virtue, however beset with Contempt or Ridicule, Envy or
Defamation. In short, we should not any longer regard our Fellow
Subjects as Whigs or Tories, but should make the Man of Merit our
Friend, and the Villain our Enemy.


[Footnote 1: Among his Moral Essays is that showing 'How one shall be
helped by Enemies.' In his 'Lives,' also, Plutarch applauds in Pericles
the noble sentiment which led him to think it his most excellent
attainment never to have given way to envy or anger, notwithstanding the
greatness of his power, nor to have nourished an implacable hatred
against his greatest foe. This, he says, was his only real title to the
name of Olympius.]

[Footnote 2: Luke vi. 27--32.]

[Footnote 3: Characters altogether different]

[Footnote 4: a very]

[Footnote 5: People]

[Footnote 6: Neutral Body of]

* * * * *

No. 126. Wednesday, July 25, 1711. Addison.

'Tros Rutulusve fuat, nullo discrimine habebo.'


In my Yesterday's Paper I proposed, that the honest Men of all Parties
should enter into a kind of Association for the Defence of one another,
and [the] Confusion of their common Enemies. As it is designed this
neutral Body should act with a Regard to nothing but Truth and Equity,
and divest themselves of the little Heats and Prepossessions that cleave
to Parties of all Kinds, I have prepared for them the following Form of
an Association, which may express their Intentions in the most plain and
simple Manner.

_We whose Names are hereunto subscribed do solemnly declare, That we
do in our Consciences believe two and two make four; and that we shall
adjudge any Man whatsoever to be our Enemy who endeavours to persuade
us to the contrary. We are likewise ready to maintain, with the Hazard
of all that is near and dear to us, That six is less than seven in all
Times and all Places, and that ten will not be more three Years hence
than it is at present. We do also firmly declare, That it is our
Resolution as long as we live to call Black black, and White white.
And we shall upon all Occasions oppose such Persons that upon any Day
of the Year shall call Black white, or White black, with the utmost
Peril of our Lives and Fortunes._

Were there such a Combination of honest Men, who without any Regard to
Places would endeavour to extirpate all such furious Zealots as would
sacrifice one half of their Country to the Passion and Interest of the
other; as also such infamous Hypocrites, that are for promoting their
own Advantage, under Colour of the Publick Good; with all the profligate
immoral Retainers to each Side, that have nothing to recommend them but
an implicit Submission to their Leaders; we should soon see that furious
Party-Spirit extinguished, which may in time expose us to the Derision
and Contempt of all the Nations about us.

A Member of this Society, that would thus carefully employ himself in
making Room for Merit, by throwing down the worthless and depraved Part
of Mankind from those conspicuous Stations of Life to which they have
been sometimes advanced, and all this without any Regard to his private
Interest, would be no small Benefactor to his Country.

I remember to have read in _Diodorus Siculus_[1] an Account of a very
active little Animal, which I think he calls the _Ichneumon_, that makes
it the whole Business of his Life to break the Eggs of the Crocodile,
which he is always in search after. This instinct is the more
remarkable, because the _Ichneumon_ never feeds upon the Eggs he has
broken, nor in any other Way finds his Account in them. Were it not for
the incessant Labours of this industrious Animal, _AEgypt_, says the
Historian, would be over-run with Crocodiles: for the _AEgyptians_ are so
far from destroying those pernicious Creatures, that they worship them
as Gods.

If we look into the Behaviour of ordinary Partizans, we shall find them
far from resembling this disinterested Animal; and rather acting after
the Example of the wild _Tartars_, who are ambitious of destroying a Man
of the most extraordinary Parts and Accomplishments, as thinking that
upon his Decease the same Talents, whatever Post they qualified him for,
enter of course into his Destroyer.

As in the whole Train of my Speculations, I have endeavoured as much as
I am able to extinguish that pernicious Spirit of Passion and Prejudice,
which rages with the same Violence in all Parties, I am still the more
desirous of doing some Good in this Particular, because I observe that
the Spirit of Party reigns more in the Country than in the Town. It here
contracts a kind of Brutality and rustick Fierceness, to which Men of a
politer Conversation are wholly Strangers. It extends it self even to
the Return of the Bow and the Hat; and at the same time that the Heads
of Parties preserve toward one another an outward Shew of Good-breeding,
and keep up a perpetual Intercourse of Civilities, their Tools that are
dispersed in these outlying Parts will not so much as mingle together at
a Cockmatch. This Humour fills the Country with several periodical
Meetings of Whig Jockies and Tory Fox-hunters; not to mention the
innumerable Curses, Frowns, and Whispers it produces at a

I do not know whether I have observed in any of my former Papers, that
different Principles, the first of them inclined to the _landed_ and the
other to the _monyed_ Interest. This Humour is so moderate in each of
them, that it proceeds no farther than to an agreeable Raillery, which
very often diverts the rest of the Club. I find however that the Knight
is a much stronger Tory in the Country than in Town, which, as he has
told me in my Ear, is absolutely necessary for the keeping up his
Interest. In all our Journey from _London_ to his House we did not so
much as bait at a Whig Inn; or if by chance the Coachman stopped at a
wrong Place, one of Sir ROGER'S Servants would ride up to his Master
full speed, and whisper to him that the Master of the House was against
such an one in the last Election. This often betray'd us into hard Beds
and bad Chear; for we were not so inquisitive about the Inn as the
Inn-keeper; and, provided our Landlord's Principles were sound, did not
take any Notice of the Staleness of his Provisions. This I found still
the more inconvenient, because the better the Host was, the worse
generally were his Accommodations; the Fellow knowing very well, that
those who were his Friends would take up with coarse Diet and an hard
Lodging. For these Reasons, all the while I was upon the Road I dreaded
entering into an House of any one that Sir Roger had applauded for an
honest Man.

Since my Stay at Sir ROGER'S in the Country, I daily find more Instances
of this narrow Party-Humour. Being upon a Bowling-green at a
Neighbouring Market-Town the other Day, (for that is the Place where the
Gentlemen of one Side meet once a Week) I observed a Stranger among them
of a better Presence and genteeler Behaviour than ordinary; but was much
surprised, that notwithstanding he was a very fair _Bettor_, no Body
would take him up. But upon Enquiry I found, that he was one who had
given a disagreeable Vote in a former Parliament, for which Reason there
was not a Man upon that Bowling-green who would have so much
Correspondence with him as to Win his Money of him.

Among other Instances of this Nature, I must not omit one which
[concerns [2]] my self. _Will. Wimble _was the other Day relating
several strange Stories that he had picked up no Body knows where of a
certain great Man; and upon my staring at him, as one that was surprised
to hear such things in the Country [which [3]] had never been so much as
whispered in the Town, _Will_. stopped short in the Thread of his
Discourse, and after Dinner asked my Friend Sir ROGER in his Ear
if he was sure that I was not a Fanatick.

It gives me a serious Concern to see such a Spirit of Dissention in the
Country; not only as it destroys Virtue and Common Sense, and renders us
in a Manner Barbarians towards one another, but as it perpetuates our
Animosities, widens our Breaches, and transmits our present Passions and
Prejudices to our Posterity. For my own Part, I am sometimes afraid that
I discover the Seeds of a Civil War in these our Divisions; and
therefore cannot but bewail, as in their first Principles, the Miseries
and Calamities of our Children.


[Footnote 1: Bibliothecae Historicae, Lib. i. Sec. 87.]

[Footnote 2: concerns to]

[Footnote 3: that]

* * * * *

No. 127. Thursday, July 26, 1711. Addison.

'Quantum est in rebus Inane?'


It is our Custom at Sir ROGER'S, upon the coming in of the Post, to sit
about a Pot of Coffee, and hear the old Knight read _Dyer's_ Letter;
which he does with his Spectacles upon his Nose, and in an audible
Voice, smiling very often at those little Strokes of Satyr which are so
frequent in the Writings of that Author. I afterwards communicate to the
Knight such Packets as I receive under the Quality of SPECTATOR. The
following Letter chancing to please him more than ordinary, I shall
publish it at his Request.


'You have diverted the Town almost a whole Month at the Expence of the
Country, it is now high time that you should give the Country their
Revenge. Since your withdrawing from this Place, the Fair Sex are run
into great Extravagancies. Their Petticoats, which began to heave and
swell before you left us, are now blown up into a most enormous
Concave, and rise every Day more and more: In short, Sir, since our
Women know themselves to be out of the Eye of the SPECTATOR, they will
be kept within no Compass. You praised them a little too soon, for the
Modesty of their Head-Dresses; for as the Humour of a sick Person is
often driven out of one Limb into another, their Superfluity of
Ornaments, instead of being entirely Banished, seems only fallen from
their Heads upon their lower Parts. What they have lost in Height they
make up in Breadth, and contrary to all Rules of Architecture widen
the Foundations at the same time that they shorten the Superstructure.
Were they, like _Spanish_ Jennets, to impregnate by the Wind, they
could not have thought on a more proper Invention. But as we do not
yet hear any particular Use in this Petticoat, or that it contains any
thing more than what was supposed to be in those of Scantier Make, we
are wonderfully at a loss about it.

The Women give out, in Defence of these wide Bottoms, that they are
Airy, and very proper for the Season; but this I look upon to be only
a Pretence, and a piece of Art, for it is well known we have not had a
more moderate Summer these many Years, so that it is certain the Heat
they complain of cannot be in the Weather: Besides, I would fain ask
these tender constitutioned Ladies, why they should require more
Cooling than their Mothers before them.

I find several Speculative Persons are of Opinion that our Sex has of
late Years been very sawcy, and that the Hoop Petticoat is made use of
to keep us at a Distance. It is most certain that a Woman's Honour
cannot be better entrenched than after this manner, in Circle within
Circle, amidst such a Variety of Out-works and Lines of
Circumvallation. A Female who is thus invested in Whale-Bone is
sufficiently secured against the Approaches of an ill-bred Fellow, who
might as well think of Sir _George Etherege_'s way of making Love in a
Tub, [1] as in the midst of so many Hoops.

Among these various Conjectures, there are Men of Superstitious
tempers, who look upon the Hoop Petticoat as a kind of Prodigy. Some
will have it that it portends the Downfal of the _French_ King, and
observe that the Farthingale appeared in _England _a little before the
Ruin of the _Spanish_ Monarchy. Others are of Opinion that it foretels
Battle and Bloodshed, and believe it of the same Prognostication as
the Tail of a Blazing Star. For my part, I am apt to think it is a
Sign that Multitudes are coming into the World rather than going out
of it.

The first time I saw a Lady dressed in one of these Petticoats, I
could not forbear blaming her in my own Thoughts for walking abroad
when she was _so near her Time_, but soon recovered myself out of my
Error, when I found all the Modish Part of the Sex as _far gone_ as
her self. It is generally thought some crafty Women have thus betrayed
their Companions into Hoops, that they might make them accessory to
their own Concealments, and by that means escape the Censure of the
World; as wary Generals have sometimes dressed two or three Dozen of
their Friends in their own Habit, that they might not draw upon
themselves any particular Attacks of the Enemy. The strutting
Petticoat smooths all Distinctions, levels the Mother with the
Daughter, and sets Maids and Matrons, Wives and Widows, upon the same
Bottom. In the mean while I cannot but be troubled to see so many
well-shaped innocent Virgins bloated up, and waddling up and down like
big-bellied Women.

Should this Fashion get among the ordinary People our publick Ways
would be so crowded that we should want Street-room. Several
Congregations of the best Fashion find themselves already very much
streightened, and if the Mode encrease I wish it may not drive many
ordinary Women into Meetings and Conventicles. Should our Sex at the
same time take it into their Heads to wear Trunk Breeches (as who
knows what their Indignation at this Female Treatment may drive them
to) a Man and his Wife would fill a whole Pew.

You know, Sir, it is recorded of Alexander the Great, [2] that in his
_Indian_ Expedition he buried several Suits of Armour, which by his
Direction were made much too big for any of his Soldiers, in order to
give Posterity an extraordinary Idea of him, and make them believe he
had commanded an Army of Giants. I am persuaded that if one of the
present Petticoats happen to be hung up in any Repository of
Curiosities, it will lead into the same Error the Generations that lie
some Removes from us: unless we can believe our Posterity will think
so disrespectfully of their Great Grand-Mothers, that they made
themselves Monstrous to appear Amiable.

When I survey this new-fashioned _Rotonda_ in all its Parts, I cannot
but think of the old Philosopher, who after having entered into an
_Egyptian_ Temple, and looked about for the Idol of the Place, at
length discovered a little Black Monkey Enshrined in the midst of it,
upon which he could not forbear crying out, (to the great Scandal of
the Worshippers) What a magnificent Palace is here for such a
Ridiculous Inhabitant!

Though you have taken a Resolution, in one of your Papers, to avoid
descending to Particularities of Dress, I believe you will not think
it below you, on so extraordinary an Occasion, to Unhoop the Fair Sex,
and cure this fashionable Tympany that is got among them. I am apt to
think the Petticoat will shrink of its own accord at your first coming
to Town; at least a Touch of your Pen will make it contract it self,
like the sensitive Plant, and by that means oblige several who are
either terrified or astonished at this portentous Novelty, and among
the rest,

_Your humble Servant, &c._


[Footnote 1: 'Love in a Tub', Act iv, sc, 6.]

[Footnote 2: In Plutarch's 'Life' of him.]

* * * * *

No. 128. Friday, July 27, 1711. Addison.

'... Concordia discors.'


Women in their Nature are much more gay and joyous than Men; whether it
be that their Blood is more refined, their Fibres more delicate, and
their animal Spirits more light and volatile; or whether, as some have
imagined, there may not be a kind of Sex in the very Soul, I shall not
pretend to determine. As Vivacity is the Gift of Women, Gravity is that
of Men. They should each of them therefore keep a Watch upon the
particular Biass which Nature has fixed in their Mind, that it may not
_draw_ too much, and lead them out of the Paths of Reason. This will
certainly happen, if the one in every Word and Action affects the
Character of being rigid and severe, and the other of being brisk and
airy. Men should beware of being captivated by a kind of savage
Philosophy, Women by a thoughtless Gallantry. Where these Precautions
are not observed, the Man often degenerates into a Cynick, the Woman
into a Coquet; the Man grows sullen and morose, the Woman impertinent
and fantastical.

By what I have said, we may conclude, Men and Women were made as
Counterparts to one another, that the Pains and Anxieties of the Husband
might be relieved by the Sprightliness and good Humour of the Wife. When
these are rightly tempered, Care and Chearfulness go Hand in Hand; and
the Family, like a Ship that is duly trimmed, wants neither Sail nor

Natural Historians observe, (for whilst I am in the Country I must fetch
my Allusions from thence) That only the Male Birds have Voices; That
their Songs begin a little before Breeding-time, and end a little after;
That whilst the Hen is covering her Eggs, the Male generally takes his
Stand upon a Neighbouring Bough within her Hearing; and by that means
amuses and diverts her with his Songs during the whole Time of her

This Contract among Birds lasts no longer than till a Brood of young
ones arises from it; so that in the feather'd Kind, the Cares and
Fatigues of the married State, if I may so call it, lie principally upon
the Female. On the contrary, as in our Species the Man and [the] Woman
are joined together for Life, and the main Burden rests upon the former,
Nature has given all the little Arts of Soothing and Blandishment to the
Female, that she may chear and animate her Companion in a constant and
assiduous Application to the making a Provision for his Family, and the
educating of their common Children. This however is not to be taken so
strictly, as if the same Duties were not often reciprocal, and incumbent
on both Parties; but only to set forth what seems to have been the
general Intention of Nature, in the different Inclinations and
Endowments which are bestowed on the different Sexes.

But whatever was the Reason that Man and Woman were made with this
Variety of Temper, if we observe the Conduct of the Fair Sex, we find
that they choose rather to associate themselves with a Person who
resembles them in that light and volatile Humour which is natural to
them, than to such as are qualified to moderate and counter-ballance it.
It has been an old Complaint, That the Coxcomb carries it with them
before the Man of Sense. When we see a Fellow loud and talkative, full
of insipid Life and Laughter, we may venture to pronounce him a female
Favourite: Noise and Flutter are such Accomplishments as they cannot
withstand. To be short, the Passion of an ordinary Woman for a Man is
nothing else but Self-love diverted upon another Object: She would have
the Lover a Woman in every thing but the Sex. I do not know a finer
Piece of Satyr on this Part of Womankind, than those lines of

'Our thoughtless Sex is caught by outward Form,
And empty Noise, and loves it self in Man.'

This is a Source of infinite Calamities to the Sex, as it frequently
joins them to Men, who in their own Thoughts are as fine Creatures as
themselves; or if they chance to be good-humoured, serve only to
dissipate their Fortunes, inflame their Follies, and aggravate their

The same female Levity is no less fatal to them after Mariage than
before: It represents to their Imaginations the faithful prudent Husband
as an honest tractable [and] domestick Animal; and turns their Thoughts
upon the fine gay Gentleman that laughs, sings, and dresses so much more

As this irregular Vivacity of Temper leads astray the Hearts of ordinary
Women in the Choice of their Lovers and the Treatment of their Husbands,
it operates with the same pernicious Influence towards their Children,
who are taught to accomplish themselves in all those sublime Perfections
that appear captivating in the Eye of their Mother. She admires in her
Son what she loved in her Gallant; and by that means contributes all she
can to perpetuate herself in a worthless Progeny.

The younger _Faustina_ was a lively Instance of this sort of Women.
Notwithstanding she was married to _Marcus Aurelius_, one of the
greatest, wisest, and best of the _Roman_ Emperors, she thought a common
Gladiator much the prettier Gentleman; and had taken such Care to
accomplish her Son _Commodus_ according to her own Notions of a fine
Man, that when he ascended the Throne of his Father, he became the most
foolish and abandoned Tyrant that was ever placed at the Head of the
_Roman_ Empire, signalizing himself in nothing but the fighting of
Prizes, and knocking out Men's Brains. As he had no Taste of true Glory,
we see him in several Medals and Statues [which [1]] are still extant of
him, equipped like an _Hercules_ with a Club and a Lion's Skin.

I have been led into this Speculation by the Characters I have heard of
a Country Gentleman and his Lady, who do not live many Miles from Sir
ROGER. The Wife is an old Coquet, that is always hankering after the
Diversions of the Town; the Husband a morose Rustick, that frowns and
frets at the Name of it. The Wife is overrun with Affectation, the
Husband sunk into Brutality: The Lady cannot bear the Noise of the Larks
and Nightingales, hates your tedious Summer Days, and is sick at the
Sight of shady Woods and purling Streams; the Husband wonders how any
one can be pleased with the Fooleries of Plays and Operas, and rails
from Morning to Night at essenced Fops and tawdry Courtiers. The
Children are educated in these different Notions of their Parents. The
Sons follow the Father about his Grounds, while the Daughters read
Volumes of Love-Letters and Romances to their Mother. By this means it
comes to pass, that the Girls look upon their Father as a Clown, and the
Boys think their Mother no better than she should be.

How different are the Lives of _Aristus_ and _Aspasia_? the innocent
Vivacity of the one is tempered and composed by the chearful Gravity of
the other. The Wife grows wise by the Discourses of the Husband, and the
Husband good-humour'd by the Conversations of the Wife. _Aristus_ would
not be so amiable were it not for his _Aspasia_, nor _Aspasia_ so much
[esteemed [2]] were it not for her _Aristus_. Their Virtues are blended
in their Children, and diffuse through the whole Family a perpetual
Spirit of Benevolence, Complacency, and Satisfaction.


[Footnote 1: that]

[Footnote 2: to be esteemed]

* * * * *

No. 129. Saturday, July 28, 1711. Addison.

'Vertentem sese frustra sectabere canthum,
Cum rota posterior curras et in axe secundo.'


Great Masters in Painting never care for drawing People in the Fashion;
as very well knowing that the Headdress, or Periwig, that now prevails,
and gives a Grace to their Portraitures at present, will make a very odd
Figure, and perhaps look monstrous in the Eyes of Posterity. For this
Reason they often represent an illustrious Person in a _Roman_
Habit, or in some other Dress that never varies. I could wish, for the
sake of my Country Friends, that there was such a kind of _everlasting
Drapery_ to be made use of by all who live at a certain distance from
the Town, and that they would agree upon such Fashions as should never
be liable to Changes and Innovations. For want of this _standing
Dress_, a Man [who [1]] takes a Journey into the Country is as much
surprised, as one [who [1]] walks in a Gallery of old Family Pictures;
and finds as great a Variety of Garbs and Habits in the Persons he
converses with. Did they keep to one constant Dress they would sometimes
be in the Fashion, which they never are as Matters are managed at
present. If instead of running after the Mode, they would continue fixed
in one certain Habit, the Mode would some time or other overtake them,
as a Clock that stands still is sure to point right once in twelve
Hours: In this Case therefore I would advise them, as a Gentleman did
his Friend who was hunting about the whole Town after a rambling Fellow,
If you follow him you will never find him, but if you plant your self at
the Corner of any one Street, I'll engage it will not be long before you
see him.

I have already touched upon this Subject in a Speculation [which [1]]
shews how cruelly the Country are led astray in following the Town; and
equipped in a ridiculous Habit, when they fancy themselves in the Height
of the Mode. Since that Speculation I have received a Letter (which I
there hinted at) from a Gentleman who is now in the Western Circuit.


'Being a Lawyer of the_ Middle-Temple_, [a [2]] _Cornishman_ by Birth,
I generally ride the Western Circuit for my health, and as I am not
interrupted with Clients, have leisure to make many Observations that
escape the Notice of my Fellow-Travellers.

One of the most fashionable Women I met with in all the Circuit was my
Landlady at _Stains_, where I chanced to be on a Holiday. Her Commode
was not half a Foot high, and her Petticoat within some Yards of a
modish Circumference. In the same Place I observed a young Fellow with
a tolerable Periwig, had it not been covered with a Hat that was
shaped in the _Ramillie_ Cock. [3] As I proceeded in my Journey I
observed the Petticoat grew scantier and scantier, and about
threescore Miles from _London_ was so very unfashionable, that a Woman
might walk in it without any manner of Inconvenience.

Not far from _Salisbury_ I took notice of a Justice of Peace's Lady
[who [4]] was at least ten Years behindhand in her Dress, but at the
same time as fine as Hands could make her. She was flounced and
furbelowed from Head to Foot; every Ribbon was wrinkled, and every
Part of her Garments in Curl, so that she looked like one of those
Animals which in the Country we call a _Friezeland_ Hen.

Not many Miles beyond this Place I was informed that one of the last
Year's little Muffs had by some means or other straggled into those
Parts, and that all Women of Fashion were cutting their old Muffs in
two, or retrenching them, according to the little Model [which [5]]
was got among them. I cannot believe the Report they have there, that
it was sent down frank'd by a Parliament-man in a little Packet; but
probably by next Winter this Fashion will be at the Height in the
Country, when it is quite out at _London_.

The greatest Beau at our next Country Sessions was dressed in a most
monstrous Flaxen Periwig, that was made in King _William's_ Reign. The
Wearer of it goes, it seems, in his own Hair, when he is at home, and
lets his Wig lie in Buckle for a whole half Year, that he may put it
on upon Occasions to meet the Judges in it.

I must not here omit an Adventure [which [5]] happened to us in a
Country Church upon the Frontiers of _Cornwall_. As we were in the
midst of the Service, a Lady who is the chief Woman of the Place, and
had passed the Winter at _London_ with her Husband, entered the
Congregation in a little Headdress, and a hoop'd Petticoat. The
People, who were wonderfully startled at such a Sight, all of them
rose up. Some stared at the prodigious Bottom, and some at the little
Top of this strange Dress. In the mean time the Lady of the Manor
filled the [_Area_ [6]] of the Church, and walked up to her Pew with
an unspeakable Satisfaction, amidst the Whispers, Conjectures, and
Astonishments of the whole Congregation.

Upon our Way from hence we saw a young Fellow riding towards us full
Gallop, with a Bob Wig and a black Silken Bag tied to it. He stopt
short at the Coach, to ask us how far the Judges were behind us. His
Stay was so very short, that we had only time to observe his new silk
Waistcoat, [which [7]] was unbutton'd in several Places to let us see
that he had a clean Shirt on, which was ruffled down to his middle.

From this Place, during our Progress through the most Western Parts of
the Kingdom, we fancied ourselves in King _Charles_ the Second's
Reign, the People having made very little Variations in their Dress
since that time. The smartest of the Country Squires appear still in
the _Monmouth_-Cock [8] and when they go a wooing (whether they have
any Post in the Militia or not) they generally put on a red Coat. We
were, indeed, very much surprized, at the Place we lay at last Night,
to meet with a Gentleman that had accoutered himself in a Night-Cap
Wig, a Coat with long Pockets, and slit Sleeves, and a pair of Shoes
with high Scollop Tops; but we soon found by his Conversation that he
was a Person who laughed at the Ignorance and Rusticity of the Country
People, and was resolved to live and die in the Mode.

_Sir_, If you think this Account of my Travels may be of any Advantage
to the Publick, I will next Year trouble you with such Occurrences as
I shall meet with in other Parts of _England_. For I am informed there
are greater Curiosities in the Northern Circuit than in the Western;
and that a Fashion makes its Progress much slower into _Cumberland_
than into _Cornwall_. I have heard in particular, that the Steenkirk
[9] arrived but two Months ago at _Newcastle_, and that there are
several Commodes in those Parts which are worth taking a Journey
thither to see.


[Footnotes 1: that]

[Footnote 2: and a]

[Footnote 3: Fashion of 1706]

[Footnote 4: that]

[Footnotes 5: that]

[Footnote 6: whole Area]

[Footnote 7: that]

[Footnote 8: Of 1685.]

[Footnote 9: Fashion of 1692-3.]

* * * * *

No. 130. Monday, July 30, 1711. Addison.

'... Semperque recentes
Convectare juvat praedas, et vivere rapto.'


As I was Yesterday riding out in the Fields with my Friend Sir ROGER, we
saw at a little Distance from us a Troop of Gypsies. Upon the first
Discovery of them, my Friend was in some doubt whether he should not
exert the Justice of the Peace upon such a Band of Lawless Vagrants; but
not having his Clerk with him, who is a necessary Counsellor on these
Occasions, and fearing that his Poultry might fare the worse for it, he
let the Thought drop: But at the same time gave me a particular Account
of the Mischiefs they do in the Country, in stealing People's Goods and
spoiling their Servants.

If a stray Piece of Linnen hangs upon an Hedge, says Sir ROGER, they
are sure to have it; if the Hog loses his Way in the Fields, it is ten
to one but he becomes their Prey; our Geese cannot live in Peace for
them; if a Man prosecutes them with Severity, his Hen-roost is sure to
pay for it: They generally straggle into these Parts about this Time
of the Year; and set the Heads of our Servant-Maids so agog for
Husbands, that we do not expect to have any Business done as it should
be whilst they are in the Country. I have an honest Dairy-maid [who
[1]] crosses their Hands with a Piece of Silver every Summer, and
never fails being promised the handsomest young Fellow in the Parish
for her pains. Your Friend the Butler has been Fool enough to be
seduced by them; and, though he is sure to lose a Knife, a Fork, or a
Spoon every time his Fortune is told him, generally shuts himself up
in the Pantry with an old Gypsie for above half an Hour once in a
Twelvemonth. Sweet-hearts are the things they live upon, which they
bestow very plentifully upon all those that apply themselves to them.
You see now and then some handsome young Jades among them: The Sluts
have very often white Teeth and black Eyes.

Sir ROGER observing that I listned with great Attention to his Account
of a People who were so entirely new to me, told me, That if I would
they should tell us our Fortunes. As I was very well pleased with the
Knight's Proposal, we rid up and communicated our Hands to them. A
_Cassandra_ of the Crew, after having examined my Lines very diligently,
told me, That I loved a pretty Maid in a Corner, that I was a good
Woman's Man, with some other Particulars which I do not think proper to
relate. My Friend Sir ROGER alighted from his Horse, and exposing his
Palm to two or three that stood by him, they crumpled it into all
Shapes, and diligently scanned every Wrinkle that could be made in it;
when one of them, [who [2]] was older and more Sun-burnt than the rest,
told him, That he had a Widow in his Line of Life: Upon which the Knight
cried, Go, go, you are an idle Baggage; and at the same time smiled upon
me. The Gypsie finding he was not displeased in his Heart, told him,
after a farther Enquiry into his Hand, that his True-love was constant,
and that she should dream of him to-night: My old Friend cried Pish, and
bid her go on. The Gypsie told him that he was a Batchelour, but would
not be so long; and that he was dearer to some Body than he thought: The
Knight still repeated, She was an idle Baggage, and bid her go on. Ah
Master, says the Gypsie, that roguish Leer of yours makes a pretty
Woman's Heart ake; you ha'n't that Simper about the Mouth for
Nothing--The uncouth Gibberish with which all this was uttered like the
Darkness of an Oracle, made us the more attentive to it. To be short,
the Knight left the Money with her that he had crossed her Hand with,
and got up again on his Horse.

As we were riding away, Sir ROGER told me, that he knew several sensible
People who believed these Gypsies now and then foretold very strange
things; and for half an Hour together appeared more jocund than
ordinary. In the Height of his good-Humour, meeting a common Beggar upon
the Road who was no Conjurer, as he went to relieve him he found his
Pocket was picked: That being a Kind of Palmistry at which this Race of
Vermin are very dextrous.

I might here entertain my Reader with Historical Remarks on this idle
profligate People, [who [3]] infest all the Countries of _Europe_, and
live in the midst of Governments in a kind of Commonwealth by
themselves. But instead of entering into Observations of this Nature, I
shall fill the remaining Part of my Paper with a Story [which [4]] is
still fresh in _Holland_, and was printed in one of our Monthly Accounts
about twenty Years ago.

'As the _Trekschuyt_, or Hackney-boat, which carries Passengers from
_Leyden_ to _Amsterdam_, was putting off, a Boy running along the
[Side [5]] of the Canal desired to be taken in; which the Master of
the Boat refused, because the Lad had not quite Money enough to pay
the usual Fare. An eminent Merchant being pleased with the Looks of
the Boy, and secretly touched with Compassion towards him, paid the
Money for him, [6] and ordered him to be taken on board. Upon talking
with him afterwards, he found that he could speak readily in three or
four Languages, and learned upon farther Examination that he had been
stoln away when he was a Child by a Gypsie, and had rambled ever since
with a Gang of those Strollers up and down several Parts of _Europe_.
It happened that the Merchant, whose Heart seems to have inclined
towards the Boy by a secret kind of Instinct, had himself lost a Child
some Years before. The Parents, after a long Search for him, gave him
for drowned in one of the Canals with which that Country abounds; and
the Mother was so afflicted at the Loss of a fine Boy, who was her
only Son, that she died for Grief of it. Upon laying together all
Particulars, and examining the several Moles and Marks [by] which the
Mother used to describe the Child [when [7]] he was first missing, the
Boy proved to be the Son of the Merchant whose Heart had so
unaccountably melted at the Sight of him. The Lad was very well
pleased to find a Father [who [8]] was so rich, and likely to leave
him a good Estate; the Father on the other hand was not a little
delighted to see a Son return to him, whom he had given for lost, with
such a Strength of Constitution, Sharpness of Understanding, and Skill
in Languages.'

Here the printed Story leaves off; but if I may give credit to Reports,
our Linguist having received such extraordinary Rudiments towards a good
Education, was afterwards trained up in every thing that becomes a
Gentleman; wearing off by little and little all the vicious Habits and
Practises that he had been used to in the Course of his Peregrinations:
Nay, it is said, that he has since been employed in foreign Courts upon
National Business, with great Reputation to himself and Honour to [those
who sent him, [9]] and that he has visited several Countries as a
publick Minister, in which he formerly wander'd as a Gypsie.


[Footnote 1: that]

[Footnote 2: that]

[Footnote 3: that]

[Footnote 4: that]

[Footnote 5: Sides]

[Footnote 6: About three pence.]

[Footnote 7: by when]

[Footnote 8: that]

[Footnote 9: his Country]

* * * * *

No. 131. Tuesday, July 31, 1711. Addison.

'... Ipsae rursum concedite Sylvae.'


It is usual for a Man who loves Country Sports to preserve the Game in
his own Grounds, and divert himself upon those that belong to his
Neighbour. My Friend Sir ROGER generally goes two or three Miles from
his House, and gets into the Frontiers of his Estate, before he beats
about in search of [a [1]] Hare or Partridge, on purpose to spare his
own Fields, where he is always sure of finding Diversion, when the worst
comes to the worst. By this Means the Breed about his House has time to
encrease and multiply, besides that the Sport is the more agreeable
where the Game is the harder to come at, and [where it] does not lie so
thick as to produce any Perplexity or Confusion in the Pursuit. For
these Reasons the Country Gentleman, like the Fox, seldom preys near his
own Home.

In the same manner I have made a Month's Excursion out of the Town,
which is the great Field of Game for Sportsmen of my Species, to try my
Fortune in the Country, where I have started several Subjects, and
hunted them down, with some Pleasure to my self, and I hope to others. I
am here forced to use a great deal of Diligence before I can spring any
thing to my Mind, whereas in Town, whilst I am following one Character,
it is ten to one but I am crossed in my Way by another, and put up such
a Variety of odd Creatures in both Sexes, that they foil the Scent of
one another, and puzzle the Chace. My greatest Difficulty in the Country
is to find Sport, and in Town to chuse it. In the mean time, as I have
given a whole Month's Rest to the Cities of _London_ and _Westminster_,
I promise my self abundance of new Game upon my return thither.

It is indeed high time for me to leave the Country, since I find the
whole Neighbourhood begin to grow very inquisitive after my Name and
Character. My Love of Solitude, Taciturnity, and particular way of Life,
having raised a great Curiosity in all these Parts.

The Notions which have been framed of me are various; some look upon me
as very proud, [some as very modest,] and some as very melancholy.
_Will. Wimble_, as my Friend the Butler tells me, observing me very much
alone, and extreamly silent when I am in Company, is afraid I have
killed a Man. The Country People seem to suspect me for a Conjurer; and
some of them hearing of the Visit [which [2]] I made to _Moll White_,
will needs have it that Sir ROGER has brought down a Cunning Man with
him, to cure the old Woman, and free the Country from her Charms. So
that the Character which I go under in part of the Neighbourhood, is
what they here call a _White Witch_.

A Justice of Peace, who lives about five Miles off, and is not of Sir
ROGER'S Party, has it seems said twice or thrice at his Table, that he
wishes Sir ROGER does not harbour a Jesuit in his House, and that he
thinks the Gentlemen of the Country would do very well to make me give
some Account of my self.

On the other side, some of Sir ROGER'S Friends are afraid the old Knight
is impos'd upon by a designing Fellow, and as they have heard that he
converses very promiscuously when he is in Town, do not know but he has
brought down with him some discarded Whig, that is sullen, and says
nothing, because he is out of Place.

Such is the Variety of Opinions [which [2]] are here entertained of me,
so that I pass among some for a disaffected Person, and among others for
a Popish Priest; among some for a Wizard, and among others for a
Murderer; and all this for no other Reason, that I can imagine, but
because I do not hoot and hollow and make a Noise. It is true my Friend
Sir ROGER tells them, _That it is my way_, and that I am only a
Philosopher; but [this [2]] will not satisfy them. They think there is
more in me than he discovers, and that I do not hold my Tongue for

For these and other Reasons I shall set out for _London_ to Morrow,
having found by Experience that the Country is not a Place for a Person
of my Temper, who does not love Jollity, and what they call
Good-Neighbourhood. A Man that is out of Humour when an unexpected Guest
breaks in upon him, and does not care for sacrificing an Afternoon to
every Chance-comer; that will be the Master of his own Time, and the
Pursuer of his own Inclinations makes but a very unsociable Figure in
this kind of Life. I shall therefore retire into the Town, if I may make
use of that Phrase, and get into the Crowd again as fast as I can, in
order to be alone. I can there raise what Speculations I please upon
others without being observed my self, and at the same time enjoy all
the Advantages of Company with all the Privileges of Solitude. In the
mean while, to finish the Month and conclude these my rural
Speculations, I shall here insert a Letter from my Friend WILL.
HONEYCOMB, who has not lived a Month for these forty Years out of the
Smoke of _London_, and rallies me after his way upon my Country Life.

_Dear_ SPEC,

'I Suppose this Letter will find thee picking of Daisies, or smelling
to a Lock of Hay, or passing away thy time in some innocent Country
Diversion of the like Nature. I have however Orders from the Club to
summon thee up to Town, being all of us cursedly afraid thou wilt not
be able to relish our Company, after thy Conversations with _Moll
White_ and _Will. Wimble_. Pr'ythee don't send us up any more Stories
of a Cock and a Bull, nor frighten the Town with Spirits and Witches.
Thy Speculations begin to smell confoundedly of Woods and Meadows. If
thou dost not come up quickly, we shall conclude [that] thou art in
Love with one of Sir ROGER's Dairy-maids. Service to the Knight. Sir
ANDREW is grown the Cock of the Club since he left us, and if he does
not return quickly will make every Mother's Son of us Commonwealth's

_Dear_ SPEC,

_Thine Eternally_,



[Footnote 1: an]

[Footnotes 2: that]

* * * * *

No. 132. Wednesday, August 1, 1711. Steele.

'... Qui aut Tempus quid postulet non videt, aut plura loquitur,
aut se ostentat, aut eorum quibuscum est rationem non habet, is
ineptus esse dicitur.'


Having notified to my good Friend Sir ROGER that I should set out for
_London_ the next Day, his Horses were ready at the appointed Hour in
the Evening; and attended by one of his Grooms, I arrived at the
County-Town at twilight, in order to be ready for the Stage-Coach the
Day following. As soon as we arrived at the Inn, the Servant who waited
upon me, inquir'd of the Chamberlain in my Hearing what Company he had
for the Coach? The Fellow answered, Mrs. _Betty Arable_, the great
Fortune, and the Widow her Mother; a recruiting Officer (who took a
Place because they were to go;) young Squire _Quickset_ her Cousin (that
her Mother wished her to be married to;) _Ephraim_ the Quaker [1] her
Guardian; and a Gentleman that had studied himself dumb from Sir ROGER
DE COVERLEY'S. I observed by what he said of my self, that according to
his Office he dealt much in Intelligence; and doubted not but there was
some Foundation for his Reports of the rest of the Company, as well as
for the whimsical Account he gave of me. The next Morning at Day-break
we were all called; and I, who know my own natural Shyness, and
endeavour to be as little liable to be disputed with as possible,
dressed immediately, that I might make no one wait. The first
Preparation for our Setting-out was, that the Captain's Half-Pike was
placed near the Coach-man, and a Drum behind the Coach. In the mean Time
the Drummer, the Captain's Equipage, was very loud, that none of the
Captain's things should be placed so as to be spoiled; upon which his
Cloake-bag was fixed in the Seat of the Coach: And the Captain himself,
according to a frequent, tho' invidious Behaviour of Military Men,
ordered his Man to look sharp, that none but one of the Ladies should
have the Place he had taken fronting to the Coach-box.

We were in some little Time fixed in our Seats, and sat with that
Dislike which People not too good-natured usually conceive of each other
at first Sight. The Coach jumbled us insensibly into some sort of
Familiarity: and we had not moved above two Miles, when the Widow asked
the Captain what Success he had in his Recruiting? The Officer, with a
Frankness he believed very graceful, told her,

'That indeed he had but very little Luck, and had suffered much by
Desertion, therefore should be glad to end his Warfare in the Service
of her or her fair Daughter. In a Word, continued he, I am a Soldier,
and to be plain is my Character: You see me, Madam, young, sound, and
impudent; take me your self, Widow, or give me to her, I will be
wholly at your Disposal. I am a Soldier of Fortune, ha!'

This was followed by a vain Laugh of his own, and a deep Silence of all
the rest of the Company. I had nothing left for it but to fall fast
asleep, which I did with all Speed.

'Come, said he, resolve upon it, we will make a Wedding at the next
Town: We will wake this pleasant Companion who is fallen asleep, to be
[the] Brideman, and' (giving the Quaker a Clap on the Knee) he
concluded, 'This sly Saint, who, I'll warrant, understands what's what
as well as you or I, Widow, shall give the Bride as Father.'

The Quaker, who happened to be a Man of Smartness, answered,

'Friend, I take it in good Part that thou hast given me the Authority
of a Father over this comely and virtuous Child; and I must assure
thee, that if I have the giving her, I shall not bestow her on thee.
Thy Mirth, Friend, savoureth of Folly: Thou art a Person of a light
Mind; thy Drum is a Type of thee, it soundeth because it is empty.
Verily, it is not from thy Fullness, but thy Emptiness that thou hast
spoken this Day. Friend, Friend, we have hired this Coach in
Partnership with thee, to carry us to the great City; we cannot go any
other Way. This worthy Mother must hear thee if thou wilt needs utter
thy Follies; we cannot help it, Friend, I say: if thou wilt we must
hear thee: But if thou wert a Man of Understanding, thou wouldst not
take Advantage of thy courageous Countenance to abash us Children of
Peace. Thou art, thou sayest, a Soldier; give Quarter to us, who
cannot resist thee. Why didst thou fleer at our Friend, who feigned
himself asleep? he [said [2]] nothing: but how dost thou know what he
containeth? If thou speakest improper things in the hearing of this
virtuous young Virgin, consider it is an Outrage against a distressed
Person that cannot get from thee: To speak indiscreetly what we are
obliged to hear, by being hasped up with thee in this publick Vehicle,
is in some Degree assaulting on the high Road.'

Here _Ephraim_ paused, and the Captain with an happy and uncommon
Impudence (which can be convicted and support it self at the same time)

'Faith, Friend, I thank thee; I should have been a little impertinent
if thou hadst not reprimanded me. Come, thou art, I see, a smoaky old
Fellow, and I'll be very orderly the ensuing Part of the Journey. I
was [going [3]] to give my self Airs, but, Ladies, I beg Pardon.'

The Captain was so little out of Humour, and our Company was so far from
being sowered by this little Ruffle, that _Ephraim_ and he took a
particular Delight in being agreeable to each other for the future; and
assumed their different Provinces in the Conduct of the Company. Our
Reckonings, Apartments, and Accommodation, fell under _Ephraim:_ and the
Captain looked to all Disputes on the Road, as the good Behaviour of our
Coachman, and the Right we had of taking Place as going to _London_ of
all Vehicles coming from thence. The Occurrences we met with were
ordinary, and very little happened which could entertain by the Relation
of them: But when I consider'd the Company we were in, I took it for no
small good Fortune that the whole Journey was not spent in
Impertinences, which to one Part of us might be an Entertainment, to the
other a Suffering.

What therefore _Ephraim_ said when we were almost arriv'd at _London_,
had to me an Air not only of good Understanding but good Breeding. Upon
the young Lady's expressing her Satisfaction in the Journey, and
declaring how delightful it had been to her, _Ephraim_ declared himself
as follows:

'There is no ordinary Part of humane Life which expresseth so much a
good Mind, and a right inward Man, as his Behaviour upon meeting with
Strangers, especially such as may seem the most unsuitable Companions
to him: Such a Man, when he falleth in the way with Persons of
Simplicity and Innocence, however knowing he may be in the Ways of
Men, will not vaunt himself thereof; but will the rather hide his
Superiority to them, that he may not be painful unto them.

My good Friend, (continued he, turning to the Officer) thee and I are
to part by and by, and peradventure we may never meet again: But be
advised by a plain Man; Modes and Apparel are but Trifles to the real
Man, therefore do not think such a Man as thy self terrible for thy
Garb, nor such a one as me contemptible for mine.

When two such as thee and I meet, with Affections as we ought to have
towards each other, thou should'st rejoice to see my peaceable
Demeanour, and I should be glad to see thy Strength and Ability to
protect me in it.'

[Footnote 1: The man who would not fight received the name of Ephraim
from the 9th verse of Psalm lxxviii, which says:

'The children of Ephraim, being armed and carrying bows, turned back
in the day of battle.']

[Footnote 2: sayeth]

[Footnote 3: a going]

* * * * *

No. 133. Thursday, August 2, 1711. Steele.

'Quis Desiderio sit pudor aut modus
Tam Chari capitis?'


There is a sort of Delight, which is alternately mixed with Terror and
Sorrow, in the Contemplation of Death. The Soul has its Curiosity more
than ordinarily awakened, when it turns its Thoughts upon the Conduct of
such who have behaved themselves with an Equal, a Resigned, a Chearful,
a Generous or Heroick Temper in that Extremity.

We are affected with these respective Manners of Behaviour, as we
secretly believe the Part of the Dying Person imitable by our selves, or
such as we imagine our selves more particularly capable of.

Men of exalted Minds march before us like Princes, and are, to the
Ordinary Race of Mankind, rather Subjects for their Admiration than
Example. However, there are no Ideas strike more forcibly upon our
Imaginations; than those which are raised from Reflections upon the
Exits of great and excellent Men. Innocent Men who have suffered as
Criminals, tho' they were Benefactors to Human Society, seem to be
Persons of the highest Distinction, among the vastly greater Number of
Human Race, the Dead. When the Iniquity of the Times brought _Socrates_
to his Execution, how great and wonderful is it to behold him,
unsupported by any thing but the Testimony of his own Conscience and
Conjectures of Hereafter, receive the Poison with an Air of Mirth and
good Humour, and as if going on an agreeable Journey bespeak some Deity
to make it fortunate.

When _Phocion's_ good Actions had met with the like Reward from his
Country, and he was led to Death with many others of his Friends, they
bewailing their Fate, he walking composedly towards the Place of
Execution, how gracefully does he support his Illustrious Character to
the very last Instant. One of the Rabble spitting at him as he passed,
with his usual Authority he called to know if no one was ready to teach
this Fellow how to behave himself. When a Poor-spirited Creature that
died at the same time for his Crimes bemoaned himself unmanfully, he
rebuked him with this Question, Is it no Consolation to such a Man as
thou art to die with _Phocion?_ At the Instant when he was to die, they
asked him what commands he had for his Son, he answered, To forget this
Injury of the _Athenians. Niocles_, his Friend, under the same Sentence,
desired he might drink the Potion before him: _Phocion_ said, because he
never had denied him any thing he would not even this, the most
difficult Request he had ever made.

These Instances [1] were very noble and great, and the Reflections of
those Sublime Spirits had made Death to them what it is really intended
to be by the Author of Nature, a Relief from a various Being ever
subject to Sorrows and Difficulties.

_Epaminondas_, the _Theban_ General, having received in Fight a mortal
Stab with a Sword, which was left in his Body, lay in that Posture 'till
he had Intelligence that his Troops [had] obtained the Victory, and then
permitted it to be drawn [out], at which Instant he expressed himself in
this manner,

_This is not the end of my Life, my Fellow-Soldiers; it is now your_
Epaminondas _is born, who dies in so much Glory_.

It were an endless Labour to collect the Accounts with which all Ages
have filled the World of Noble and Heroick Minds that have resigned this
Being, as if the Termination of Life were but an ordinary Occurrence of

This common-place way of Thinking I fell into from an awkward Endeavour
to throw off a real and fresh Affliction, by turning over Books in a
melancholy Mood; but it is not easy to remove Griefs which touch the
Heart, by applying Remedies which only entertain the Imagination. As
therefore this Paper is to consist of any thing which concerns Human
Life, I cannot help letting the present Subject regard what has been the
last Object of my Eyes, tho' an Entertainment of Sorrow.

I went this Evening to visit a Friend, with a design to rally him, upon
a Story I had heard of his intending to steal a Marriage without the
Privity of us his intimate Friends and Acquaintance. I came into his
Apartment with that Intimacy which I have done for very many Years, and
walked directly into his Bed-chamber, where I found my Friend in the
Agonies of Death. [2] What could I do? The innocent Mirth in my Thoughts
struck upon me like the most flagitious Wickedness: I in vain called
upon him; he was senseless, and too far spent to have the least
Knowledge of my Sorrow, or any Pain in himself. Give me leave then to
transcribe my Soliloquy, as I stood by his Mother, dumb with the weight
of Grief for a Son who was her Honour and her Comfort, and never till
that Hour since his Birth had been an Occasion of a Moment's Sorrow to

'How surprising is this Change! from the Possession of vigorous Life
and Strength, to be reduced in a few Hours to this fatal Extremity!
Those Lips which look so pale and livid, within these few Days gave
Delight to all who heard their Utterance: It was the Business, the
Purpose of his Being, next to Obeying him to whom he is going, to
please and instruct, and that for no other end but to please and
instruct. Kindness was the Motive of his Actions, and with all the
Capacity requisite for making a Figure in a contentious World,
Moderation, Good-Nature, Affability, Temperance and Chastity, were the
Arts of his Excellent Life. There as he lies in helpless Agony, no
Wise Man who knew him so well as I, but would resign all the World can
bestow to be so near the end of such a Life. Why does my Heart so
little obey my Reason as to lament thee, thou excellent Man. ...
Heaven receive him, or restore him ... Thy beloved Mother, thy obliged
Friends, thy helpless Servants, stand around thee without Distinction.
How much wouldst thou, hadst thou thy Senses, say to each of us.

But now that good Heart bursts, and he is at rest--with that Breath
expired a Soul who never indulged a Passion unfit for the Place he is
gone to: Where are now thy Plans of Justice, of Truth, of Honour? Of
what use the Volumes thou hast collated, the Arguments thou hast
invented, the Examples thou hast followed. Poor were the Expectations
of the Studious, the Modest and the Good, if the Reward of their
Labours were only to be expected from Man. No, my Friend, thy intended
Pleadings, thy intended good Offices to thy Friends, thy intended
Services to thy Country, are already performed (as to thy Concern in
them) in his Sight before whom the Past, Present, and Future appear at
one View. While others with thy Talents were tormented with Ambition,
with Vain-glory, with Envy, with Emulation, how well didst thou turn
thy Mind to its own Improvement in things out of the Power of Fortune,
in Probity, in Integrity, in the Practice and Study of Justice; how
silent thy Passage, how private thy Journey, how glorious thy End!
_Many have I known more Famous, some more Knowing, not one so


[Footnote 1: From Plutarch's 'Life of Phocion'.]

[Footnote 2: This friend was Stephen, son of Edmund Clay, haberdasher.
Stephen Clay was of the Inner Temple, and called to the bar in 1700.]

* * * * *

No. 134. Friday, August 3, 1711. Steele.

'... Opiferque per Orbem
Dicor ...'


During my Absence in the Country, several Packets have been left for me,
which were not forwarded to me, because I was expected every Day in
Town. The Author of the following Letter, dated from _Tower-Hill_,
having sometimes been entertained with some Learned Gentlemen in Plush
Doublets, who have vended their Wares from a Stage in that Place, has
pleasantly enough addressed Me, as no less a Sage in Morality, than
those are in Physick. To comply with his kind Inclination to make my
Cures famous, I shall give you his Testimonial of my great Abilities at
large in his own Words.


'Your saying t'other Day there is something wonderful in the
Narrowness of those Minds which can be pleased, and be barren of
Bounty to those who please them, makes me in pain that I am not a Man
of Power: If I were, you should soon see how much I approve your
Speculations. In the mean time, I beg leave to supply that Inability
with the empty Tribute of an honest Mind, by telling you plainly I
love and thank you for your daily Refreshments. I constantly peruse
your Paper as I smoke my Morning's Pipe, (tho' I can't forbear reading
the Motto before I fill and light) and really it gives a grateful
Relish to every Whif; each Paragraph is freight either with useful or
delightful Notions, and I never fail of being highly diverted or
improved. The Variety of your Subjects surprizes me as much as a Box
of Pictures did formerly, in which there was only one Face, that by
pulling some Pieces of Isinglass over it, was changed into a grave
Senator or a _Merry Andrew_, a patch'd Lady or a Nun, a Beau or a
Black-a-moor, a Prude or a Coquet, a Country 'Squire or a Conjurer,
with many other different Representations very entertaining (as you
are) tho' still the same at the Bottom. This was a childish Amusement
when I was carried away with outward Appearance, but you make a deeper
Impression, and affect the secret Springs of the Mind; you charm the
Fancy, sooth the Passions, and insensibly lead the Reader to that
Sweetness of Temper that you so well describe; you rouse Generosity

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