The Hiſtory of Orlando the Fair. Chap. II.

FOrtune being now propitious to the gay Or⯑lando, he dreſs'd, he ſpoke, he mov'd, as a Man might be ſuppos'd to do in a Nation of Pigmies, and had an equal Value for our Approbation or Diſlike. It is uſual for thoſe who profeſs a Contempt of the World, to fly from it and live in Obſcurity; but Orlando with a greater Magnanimity, contemn'd it, and appeared in it to tell 'em ſo. If therefore his exalted Mien met with an unwelcome Reception, he was ſure al⯑ways to double the Cauſe which gave the Diſtaff. You ſee our Beauties affect a Negligence in the Ornament of their Hair, and adjuſting their Head⯑dreſſes, [2] as conſcious that they adorn whatever they wear. Orlando had not only this Humour in common with other Beauties, but alſo had a Neglect whether Things became him or not, in a World he contemn'd. For this Reaſon, a noble Particularity appeared in all his Oeconomy, Furniture, and Equipage. And to convince the preſent little Race, how unequal all their Mea⯑ſures were to an Antidiluvian, as he called himſelf, in Reſpect of the Inſects which now appear for Men, he ſometimes rode in an open Tumbril, of leſs Size than ordinary, to ſhow the Largeneſs of his Limbs, and the Grandeur of his Perſonage, to the greater Advantage: At other Seaſons, all his Appoint⯑ments had a Magnificence, as if it were formed by the Genius of Trimalchio of old, which ſhowed it ſelf in doing ordinary Things with an Air of Pomp and Grandeur. Orlando therefore called for Tea by Beat of Drum; his Valet got ready to ſhave him by a Trumpet to Horſe; and Water was brought for his Teeth, when the Sound was changed to Boots and Saddle.

In all theſe glorious Exceſſes from the com⯑mon Practice, did the happy Orlando live and reign in an uninterrupted Tranquility, till an unlucky Accident brought to his Remem⯑brance, that one Evening he was married before he courted the Nuptials of Villaria. Several fatal Memorandums were produced to revive the Memory of this Accident, and the unhap⯑py Lover was for ever baniſhed her Preſence, to whom he owed the Support of his juſt Re⯑nown and Gallantry. But Diſtreſs does not debaſe noble Minds; it only changes the Scene, and gives them new Glory by that Alteration. Orlando therefore now raves in a Garret, and calls to his Neighbour-Skies to pity his Do⯑lors, [3] and to find Redreſs for an unhappy Lover. All high Spirits, in any great Agitation of Mind, are inclined to relieve themſelves by Poetry: The renown'd Porter of Oliver had not more Volumes around his Cell in the College of Bed⯑lam, than Orlando in his preſent Apartment. And though inſerting Poetry in the midſt of Proſe be thought a Licence among correct Writers not to be indulged, it is hoped the Neceſſity of doing it, to give a juſt Idea of the Hero of whom we treat, will plead for the Liberty we ſhall hereafter take, to print Orlando's Soliloquies in Verſe and Proſe, after the Manner of great Wits, and ſuch as thoſe to whom they are nearly ally'd.

A good Company of us were this Day to ſee, or rather to hear, an artful Perſon do ſeveral Feats of Activity with his Throat and Wind⯑pipe. The firſt Thing wherewith he preſent⯑ed us, was a Ring of Bells, which he imitated in a moſt miraculous Manner; after that, he gave us all the different Notes of a Pack of Hounds, to our great Delight and Aſto⯑niſhment. The Company expreſſed their Ap⯑plauſe with much Noiſe; and never was heard ſuch an Harmony of Men and Dogs: But a certain plump merry Fellow, from an Angle of the Room, fell a crowing like a Cock ſo ingeniouſly, that he won our Hearts from the other Operator in an Inſtant. As ſoon as I ſaw him, I recollected I had ſeen him on the Stage, and immediately knew it to be Tom. Mirrour, the Comical Actor. He immediately addreſſed himſelf to me, and told me, he was ſurprized to ſee a Virtuoſo take Satisfaction in any Repreſentations below that of humane Life; and asked me, Whether I [4] thought this acting Bells and Dogs was to be conſidered under the Notion of Wit, Humour, or Satyr? Were it not better, continued he, to have ſome particular Picture of Man laid before your Eyes, that might incite your Laughter? He had no ſooner ſpoke the Word, but he im⯑mediately quitted his natural Shape, and talked to me in a very different Air and Tone from what he had uſed before; upon which all that ſate near us laughed; but I ſaw no Diſtortion in his Countenance, or any Thing that appeared to me diſagreeable. I asked Pacolet, What meant that ſudden Whiſper about us? For I could not take the Jeſt. He anſwered, The Gentleman you were talking to, aſſumed your Air and Countenance ſo exactly, that all fell a laughing to ſee how little you knew your ſelf, and how much you were enamoured with your own Image. But that Perſon, (continu⯑ed my Monitor) if Men would make the right Uſe of him, might be as Inſtrumental to their reforming Errors in Geſture, Language, and Speech, as a Dancing-Maſter, Linguiſt, or O⯑rator. You ſee he laid your ſelf before you with ſo much Addreſs, that you ſaw nothing particular in his Behaviour: He has ſo happy a Knack of repreſenting Errors and Imperfections, that you can bear your Faults in him as well as in your ſelf: He is the firſt Mimick that ever gave the Beauties, as well as the Deformities, of the Man he acted. What Mr. Dryden ſaid of a very great Man, may be well applied to him:

[5] You are to know, that this Pantomime may be ſaid to be a Species of himſelf: He has no Commerce with the reſt of Mankind, but as they are the Objects of Imitation; like the Indian Fowl, called the Mock-Bird, who has no Note of his own, but hits every Sound in the Wood as ſoon as he hears it; ſo that Mirrour is at once a Copy and an Original. Poor Mirrour's Fate (as well as Talent) is like that of the Bird we juſt now ſpoke of: The Nightingale, the Linnet, the Lark, are delighted with his Company; but the Buz⯑zard, the Crow, and the Owl, are obſerved to be his mortal Enemies. Whenever Sophro⯑nius meets Mirrour, he receives him with Ci⯑vility and Reſpect, and well knows, a good Copy of himſelf can be no Injury to him; but Bathillus ſhuns the Secret where he ex⯑pects to meet him; for he that knows his every Step and Look is conſtrained and affect⯑ed, muſt be afraid to be rival'd in his Action, and of having it diſcovered to be unnatural, by its being practiſed by another as well as himſelf.

Letters from Coventry and other Places have been ſent to me, in Anſwer to what I have ſaid in Relation to my Antagoniſt Mr. Powell, and adviſe me, with warm Language, to keep to Subjects more proper for me than ſuch high Points. But the Writers of theſe Epi⯑ſtles miſtake the Uſe and Service I propoſe to the learned World by ſuch Obſervations: For you are to underſtand. That the Title of this Paper gives me a Right in taking to my ſelf, and inſerting in it, all ſuch Parts of any Book or Letter which are foreign to the Purpoſe intended, or profeſſed by the Writer: [6] So that ſuppoſe Two great Divines ſhould ar⯑gue, and treat each other with Warmth and Le⯑vity unbecoming their Subject or Character, all that they ſay unfit for that Place is very proper to be inſerted here. Therefore from Time to Time, in all Writings which ſhall here⯑after be publiſhed, you ſhall have from me Extracts of all that ſhall appear not to the Purpoſe; and for the Benefit of the gentle Reader, I will ſhow what to turn over un⯑read, and what to peruſe. For this End I have a Mathematical Sive preparing, in which I will ſift every Page and Paragraph; and all that falls through, I ſhall make bold with for my own Uſe. The ſame Thing will be as beneficial in Speech; for all ſuperfluous Ex⯑preſſions in Talk fall to me alſo: As, when a Pleader at the Bar deſigns to be extremely impertinent and troubleſome, and cries, Un⯑der Favour of the Court—With Submiſſion, my Lord—I humbly offer—and, I think I have well conſidered this Matter; for I would be very far from trifling with your Lordſhip's Time, or treſpaſſing upon your Patience—How⯑ever, thus I will venture to ſay—and ſo forth. Or elſe, when a ſufficient ſelf-conceited Coxcomb is bringing out ſomething in his own Praiſe, and begins, Without Vanity, I muſt take this upon me to aſſert. There is alſo a Trick which the Fair Sex have, that will great⯑ly contribute to ſwelling my Volumes: As, when a Woman is going to abuſe her beſt Friend, Pray (ſaid ſhe) have you heard what I ſaid of Mrs. ſuch a one? I am hear⯑tily ſorry to hear any Thing of that Kind, of one I have ſo great a Value for; but they make no Scruple of telling it; and it was not ſpoken of to me as a Secret, for now all the Town [...]ings of it. All ſuch Flowers in Rhetorick, [7] and little Refuges for Malice, are to be noted, and naturally belong only to Tatlers. By this Me⯑thod you will immediately find Volumes contract themſelves into Octavo's; and the Labour of a Fortnight got over in half a Day.

Laſt Night arrived a Mail from Lisbon, which gives a very pleaſing Account of the Poſture of Affairs in that Part of the World, the Enemy having been neceſſitated wholly to abandon the Blockade of Olivenza. Theſe Advices ſay, That Sir John Jennings is arrived at Lisbon. When that Gentleman left Barcelona, his Catholick Ma⯑jeſty was making all poſſible Methods for carry⯑ing on an Offenſive War. It is obſerved with great Satisfaction in the Court of Spain, That there is a very good Intelligence between the Ge⯑neral Officers: Count Staremberg and Mr. Stan⯑hope acting in all Things with ſuch Unanimity, that the Publick Affairs receive great Advan⯑tages from their perſonal Friendſhip and Eſteem to each other, and mutual Aſſiſtance in promoting the Service of the Common Cauſe.

Delamira reſigns her Fan.

LOng had the Crowd of the Gay and Young ſtood in Suſpence as to their Fate in their Paſſion to the beauteous Delamira; but all their Hopes are lately vaniſhed, by the Declaration that ſhe has made of her Choice, to take the happy Archibald for her Companion for Life. Upon her making this known, the Expence of Sweet Powder and Jeſſamine are conſiderably a⯑bated; and the Mercers and Milleners complain of her Want of publick Spirit, in not concealing longer a Secret which was ſo much the Benefit of Trade. But ſo it has happened; and no one was in Confidence with her in carrying on this Treaty but the matchleſs Virgulta, whoſe De⯑ſpair of ever entring the Matrimonial State, made her, ſome Nights before Delamira's Reſolution was publiſh'd to the World, addreſs her ſelf to her in the following Manner:

Delamira heard her with great Attention, and with that Dexterity which is natural to her, told her, That all ſhe had above the reſt of her Sex and contemporary Beauties was wholly ow⯑ing to a Fan (which was left her by her Mother, and had been long in the Family) which who⯑ever had in Poſſeſſion, and uſed with Skill, ſhould command the Hearts of all her Behold⯑ers: And ſince (ſaid ſhe ſmiling) I have no more to do with extending my Conqueſts or Tri⯑umphs, I'll make you a Preſent of this ineſtima⯑ble Rarity. Virgulta made her Expreſſions of the higheſt Gratitude for ſo uncommon a Confidence in her, and deſired ſhe would ſhow her what was peculiar in the Management of that Utenſil, which render'd it of ſuch general Force while ſhe was Miſtreſs of it. Delamira reply'd, You ſee, Madam, Cupid is the principal Figure painted on it; and the Skill in play⯑ing this Fan is, in your ſeveral Motions of it, to let him appear as little as poſſible; for ho⯑nourable Lovers fly all Endeavours to enſnare 'em; and your Cupid muſt hide his Bow and Arrow, or he'll never be ſure of his Game. You may obſerve, continued ſhe, That in all publick Aſſemblies, the Sexes ſeem to ſeparate them⯑ſelves, and draw up to attack each other with Eye-ſhot: That is the Time when the Fan, which is all the Armour of Woman, is of moſt Uſe in our Defence; for our Minds are conſtru⯑ed [10] by the waving of that little Inſtrument, and our Thoughts appear in Compoſure or Agitation according to the Motion of it. You may obſerve, when Will. Peregrine comes into the Side Box, Miſs Gatty flutters her Fan as a Fly does its Wings round a Candle; while her elder Siſter, who is as much in Love with him as ſhe is, is as grave as a Veſtal at his Entrance. and the Conſe⯑quence is accordingly. He watches half the Play for a Glance from her Siſter, while Gatty is over⯑looked and neglected. I wiſh you heartily as much Succeſs in the Management of it as I have had: If you think fit to go on where I left off, I will give you a ſhort Account of the Execution I have made with it.

Cimon, who is the dulleſt of Mortals, and tho' a wonderful great Scholar, does not only pauſe, but ſeems to take a Nap with his Eyes open be⯑tween every other Sentence in his Diſcourſe: Him have I made a Leader in Aſſemblies; and one Blow on the Shoulder as I paſſed by him, has raiſed him to a downright Impertinent in all Converſations. The airy Will. Sampler is become a Lethargick by this my Wand, as Ci⯑mon is ſprightly. Take it, good Girl, and uſe it without Mercy; for the Reign of Beauty never laſted full Three Years, but it ended in Mar⯑riage, or Condemnation to Virginity. As you fear therefore the one, and hope for the other, I expect an Hourly Journal of your Triumphs; for I have it by certain Tradition, that it was given to the firſt who wore it by an Inchantreſs, with this remarkable Power, That it beſtows a Husband in half a Year to her who does not over-look her proper Minute; but aſſigns to a long Deſpair the Woman who is well offered, and neglects that Propoſal. May Occaſion at⯑tend your Charms, and your Charms ſlip no Occaſion. Give me, I ſay, an Account of the [11] Progreſs of your Forces at our next Meeting; and you ſhall hear what I think of my new Con⯑dition. I ſhould meet my future Spouſe this Mo⯑ment. Farewel. Live in juſt Terror of the dread⯑ful Words, SHE WAS.

I had the Honour this Evening to viſit ſome Ladies, where the Subject of the Converſation was Modeſty, which they commended as a Qua⯑lity quite as becoming in Men as in Women. I took the Liberty to ſay, It might be as beauti⯑ful in our Behaviour as in theirs, yet it could nee be ſaid, it was as ſucceſsful in Life; for as it was the only Recommendation in them, ſo it was the greateſt Obſtacle to us both in Love and Buſineſs. A Gentleman preſent was of my Mind, and ſaid, That we muſt deſcribe the Difference between the Modeſty of Women and that of Men, or we ſhould be confounded in our Reaſonings upon it; for this Virtue is to be regarded with Regard to our different Ways of Life. The Woman's Province is to be careful in her Oeconomy, and chaſt in her Affection: The Man's, to be active in the Improvement of his Fortune, and ready to undertake whatever is conſiſtent with his Reputation for that End. Modeſty therefore in a Woman has a certain a⯑greeable Fear in all ſhe enters upon; and in Men it is compoſed of a right Judgment of what is proper for them to attempt. From hence it is, that a diſcreet Man is always a mo⯑deſt one. It is to be noted, That Modeſty in a Man is never to be allowed as a good Quality, but a Weakneſs, if it ſuppreſſes his Virtue, and hides it from the World, when he has at the ſame Time a Mind to exert himſelf. A French Author ſays very juſtly, That Modeſty is to the other Virtues in a Man, what Shade in a Picture is to the Parts of the Thing repreſented. It [12] makes all the Beauties conſpicuous, which would otherwiſe be but a wild Heap of Colours. This Shade on our Actions muſt therefore be very juſt⯑ly applied; for if there be too much, it hides our good Qualities, inſtead of ſhowing them to Ad⯑vantage.

Neſtor in Athens was an unhappy Inſtance of this Truth; for he was not only in his Profeſſion the greateſt Man of that Age, but had given more Proofs of it than any other Man ever did; yet for Want of that natural Freedom and Audacity which is neceſſary in Commerce with Men, his perſonal Modeſty overthrew all his publick A⯑ctions. Neſtor was in thoſe Days a skilful Ar⯑chitect, and in a Manner the Inventor of the Uſe of Mechanick Powers, which he brought to ſo great Perfection, that he knew to an Atom what Foundation would bear ſuch a Superſtructure: And they record of him, That he was ſo prodi⯑giouſly exact, that for the Experiment-ſake, he built an Edifice of great Beauty, and ſeeming Strength; but contrived ſo as to bear only its own Weight, and not to admit the Addition of the leaſt Particle. This Building was beheld with much Admiration by all the Virtuoſi of that Time; but fell down with no other Preſſure, but the ſettling of a Wren upon the Top of it: Yet Neſtor's Modeſty was ſuch, that his Art and Skill were ſoon diſregarded, for Want of that Manner with which Men of the World ſupport and aſ⯑ſert the Merit of their own Performances. Soon after this Inſtance of his Art, Athens was, by the Treachery of its Enemies, burnt to the Ground. This gave Neſtor the greateſt Occaſion that ever Builder had to render his Name im⯑mortal, and his Perſon venerable: For all the new City roſe according to his Diſpoſition, and all the Monuments of the Glories and Diſtreſſes of that People were erected by that ſole Artiſt: [13] Nay, all their Temples, as well as Houſes, were the Effects of his Study and Labour; inſomuch, that it was ſaid by an old Sage, Sure, Neſtor will now be famous; for the Habitations of Gods, as well as Men, are built by his Contrivance. But this baſhful Quality ſtill put a Damp upon his great Knowledge, which has as fatal an Effect upon Men's Reputations as Poverty; for as it was ſaid, The poor Man ſaved the City, and the poor Man's Labour was forgot; ſo here we find, The modeſt Man built the City, and the modeſt Man's Skill was unknown.

Thus we ſee every Man is the Maker of his own Fortune; and what is very odd to conſider, he muſt in ſome Meaſure be the Trumpet of his Fame: Not that Men are to be tolerated who directly praiſe themſelves, but they are to be endued with a Sort of defenſive Eloquence, by which they ſhall be always capable of expreſſing the Rules and Arts by which they govern them⯑ſelves.

Varillus was the Man of all I have read of the happieſt in the true Poſſeſſion of this Quality of Modeſty. My Author ſays of him, Modeſty in Varillus is really a Virtue; for it is a voluntary Quality, and the Effect of good Senſe. He is naturally bold and enterpriſing; but ſo juſtly diſcreet, that he never acts or ſpeaks any Thing, but thoſe who behold him know he has for⯑born much more than he has performed or utter'd, out of Deference to the Perſons before whom he is. This makes Varillus truly amiable, and all his Attempts ſucceſsful; for as bad as the World is thought to be by thoſe who are perhaps uaskill'd in it, Want of Succeſs in our Actions is generally owing to Want of Judgment in what we ought to attempt, or a ruſtick Mo⯑deſty which will not give us Leave to under⯑take [14] what we ought. But how unfortunate this diffident Temper is to thoſe who are poſſeſſed with it, may be beſt ſeen in the Succeſs of ſuch as are wholly unacquainted with it.

We have one peculiar Elegance in our Lan⯑guage above all others, which is conſpicuous in the Term Fellow. This Word added to any of our Adjectives, extremely varies, or quite alters the Senſe of that with which it is joined. Thus, though a modeſt Man is the moſt unfortunate of all Men, yet a modeſt Fellow is as ſuperlatively happy. A modeſt Fellow is a ready Creature, who with great Humility, and as great Forward⯑neſs, viſits his Patrons at all Hours, and meets 'em in all Places, and has ſo moderate an Opi⯑nion of himſelf, that he makes his Court at large. If you won't give him a great Employment, he will be glad of a little one. He has ſo great a Deference for his Benefactor's Judgment, that as he thinks himſelf fit for any Thing he can get, ſo he is above nothing which is offered. He is like the young Batchelor of Arts, who came to Town recommended to a Chaplain's Place; but none being vacant, modeſtly accepted of that of a Poſtillion.

We have very many conſpicuous Perſons of this undertaking yet modeſt Turn: I have a Grandſon who is very happy in this Quality: I ſent him in the Time of the laſt Peace into France. As ſoon as he landed at Calais, he ſent me an exact Account of the Nature of the People, and the Policies of the King of France. I got him ſince choſen a Member of a Corporation: The modeſt Creature, as ſoon as he came into the Common Council, told a Senior Burgeſs, he was perfectly out in the Orders of their Houſe. In other Circumſtances, he is ſo thoroughly modeſt a Fellow, that he ſeems to pretend only to Things he underſtands. He is a Citizen only at [15] Court, and in the City a Courtier. In a Word, to ſpeak the Characteriſtical Difference between a Modeſt Man and a Modeſt Fellow; the modeſt Man is in Doubt in all his Actions; a modeſt Fellow never has a Doubt from his Cradle to his Grave.

The Civil Husband.

THE Fate and Character of the inconſtant Oſmyn, is a juſt Excuſe for the little No⯑tice taken by his Widow, of his Departure out of this Life, which was equally troubleſome to Elmira his faithful Spouſe, and to himſelf. That Life paſſed between 'em after this Manner, is the Reaſon the Town has juſt now received a Lady with all that Gaiety, after having been a Relict but Three Months, which other Women hardly aſſume under Fifteen after ſuch a Diſa⯑ſter. Elmira is the Daughter of a rich and worthy Citizen, who gave her to Oſmyn with a Portion which might have obtained her an Al⯑liance with our nobleſt Houſes, and fixed her in the Eye of the World, where her Story had not been now to be related: For her good Qualities had made her the Object of univerſal Eſteem among the polite Part of Mankind, from whom ſhe has been baniſh'd and immur'd till the Death of her Gaoler. It is now full Fifteen Years ſince that beauteous Lady was given into the Hands of the happy Oſmyn, who in the Senſe of all the World received at that Time a [16] Preſent more valuable than the Poſſeſſion of both the Indies. She was then in her early Bloom, with an Underſtanding and Diſcretion very little inferior to the moſt experienced Matrons. She was not beholden to the Charms of her Sex, that her Company was preferable to any Oſmyn could meet with abroad; for were all ſhe ſaid conſidered, without Regard to her being a Wo⯑man, it might ſtand the Examination of the ſe⯑vereſt Judges. She had all the Beauty of her own Sex, with all the Converſation-Accompliſhments of ours.

But Oſmyn very ſoon grew ſurfeited with the Charms of her Perſon by Poſſeſſion, and of her Mind by Want of Taſte; for he was one of that looſe Sort of Men, who have but one Reaſon for ſetting any Value upon the fair Sex, who conſider even Brides but as new Women, and conſequent⯑ly neglect 'em when they ceaſe to be ſuch. All the Merit of Elmira could not prevent her be⯑coming a meer Wife within few Months after her Nuptials; and Oſmyn had ſo little Reliſh for her Converſation, that he complained of the Advantages of it. My Spouſe (ſaid he to one of his Companions) is ſo very diſcreet, ſo good, ſo virtuous, and I know not what, that I think her Perſon is rather the Object of Eſteem than of Love; and there is ſuch a Thing as a Merit, which cauſes rather Diſtance than Paſſion. But there being no Medium in the State of Matrimo⯑ny, their Life began to take the uſual Gradations to become the moſt irkſome of all Beings. They grew in the firſt Place very complaiſant; and having at Heart a certain Knowledge that they were indifferent to each other, Apologies were made for every little Circumſtance which they thought betray'd their mutual Coldneſs. This laſted but few Months, when they ſhowed a Difference of Opinion in every Trifle; and, [17] as a Sign of certain Decay of Affection, the Word Perhaps was introduced in all their Diſ⯑courſe. I have a Mind to go to the Park, ſays ſhe; but perhaps, my Dear, you will want the Coach on ſome other Occaſion. He would very wil⯑lingly carry her to the Play; but perhaps, ſhe had rather go to Lady Centaure's and play at Ombre. They were both Perſons of good Diſcerning, and ſoon found that they mortally hated each other, by their Manner of hiding it. Certain it is, that there are ſome Genio's which are not capa⯑ble of pure Affection, and a Man is born with Talents for it as much as for Poetry or any other Science.

Oſmyn began too late to find the Imperfection of his own Heart, and uſed all the Methods in the World to correct it, and argue himſelf into Return of Deſire and Paſſion for his Wife, by the Contemplation of her excellent Qualities, his great Obligations to her, and the high Value he ſaw all the World except himſelf did put upon her. But ſuch is Man's unhappy Condition, that tho' the Weakneſs of the Heart has a prevailing Power over the Strength of the Head, yet the Strength of the Head has but ſmall Force againſt the Weakneſs of the Heart. Oſmyn therefore ſtruggled in vain to revive departed Deſire; and for that Reaſon reſolved to retire to one of his Eſtates in the Country, and paſs away his Hours of Wedlock in the noble Diverſions of the Field; and in the Fury of a diſappointed Lover, made an Oath, to leave neither Stag, Fox, or Hare li⯑ving, during the Days of his Wife. Beſides, that Country Sports would be an Amuſement, he ho⯑ped alſo, that his Spouſe would be half killed by the very Senſe of ſeeing this Town no more, and would think her Life ended as ſoon as ſhe left it. He communicated his Deſign to Elmira, who re⯑ceived it (as now ſhe did all Things) like a Per⯑ſon [18] too unhappy to be relieved or afflicted by the Circumſtance of Place. This unexpected Reſig⯑nation made Oſmyn reſolve to be as obliging to her as poſſible; and if he could not prevail upon himſelf to be kind, he took a Reſolution at leaſt to act ſincerely, and communicate frankly to her the Weakneſs of his Temper, to excuſe the Indifference of his Behaviour. He diſpoſed his Houſhold in the Way to Rutland, ſo as he and his Lady travelled only in the Coach for the Con⯑venience of Diſcourſe. They had not gone many Miles out of Town, when Oſmyn ſpoke to this Purpoſe:

The Lady anſwered without the leaſt Obſerva⯑tion on the Extravagance of his Speech:

To Rutland they arrived, and lived with great, but ſecret Impatience for many ſucceſſive Years, till Oſmrn thought of an happy Expedient to give their Affairs a new Turn. One Day he took El⯑mira aſide, and ſpoke as follows:

Elmira, who was all Goodneſs, accepted the Offer, removed accordingly, and has left her Spouſe in that Place to reſt with his Fathers.

[20] This is the real Figure in which Elmira ought to be beheld in this Town, and not thought guilty of an Indecorum, in not profeſſing the Senſe, or bearing the Habit of Sorrow, for one who robbed her of all the Endearments of Life, and gave her only common Civility, inſtead of Complacency of Manners, Dignity of Paſſion, and that conſtant Aſſemblage of ſoft Deſires and Affections which all feel who love, but none can expreſs.

Mr. Truman, who is a mighty Admirer of Dramatick Poetry, and knows I am about a Tragedy, never meets me, but he is giving Ad⯑monitions and Hints for my Conduct. Mr. Bick⯑erſtaff (ſaid he) I was reading laſt Night your ſecond Act you were ſo kind to lend me; but I find you depend mightily upon the Retinue of your Hero to make him magnificent. You make Guards, and Uſhers, and Courtiers, and Commons, and Nobles, march before, and then enters your Prince, and ſays, they can't defend him from his Love. Why, prithee Iſaac, who ever thought they could? Place me your loving Monarch in a Solitude; let him have no Senſe at all of his Grandeur, but let it be eaten up with his Paſſion. He muſt value himſelf as the greateſt of Lovers, not as the firſt of Princes: And then let him ſay a more tender Thing than ever Man ſaid before—For his Feather and Eagle's Beak are nothing at all. The Man is to be expreſſed by his Sentiments and Af⯑fections, and not by his Fortune or Equipage. You are alſo to take Care, that at his firſt En⯑trance he ſays ſomething which may give us an Idea of what we are to expect in a Perſon of his Way of Thinking. Shakeſpear is your Pat⯑tern. [21] In the Tragedy of Caeſar, he introduces his Hero in his Night-Gown. He had at that Time all the Power of Rome: Depoſed Conſuls, Subordinate Generals, and Captive Princes, might have preceded him; but his Genius was above ſuch Mechanick Methods of ſhowing Greatneſs. Therefore he rather preſents that great Soul de⯑bating upon the Subject of Life and Death with his intimate Friends, without endeavouring to prepoſſeſs his Audience with empty Show and Pomp. When thoſe who attend him talk of the many Omens which had appeared that Day, he anſwers,

When the Hero has ſpoken this Sentiment, there is nothing that is great which cannot be expected, from one whoſe firſt Poſition is the Contempt of Death to ſo high a Degree, as ma⯑king his Exit a Thing wholly indifferent, and not a Part of his Care, but that of Heaven and Fate.

Letters from Bruſſels of the 15th Inſtant, N. S. ſay, That Major-General Ravignan returned on the 8th with the French King's Anſwer to the intended Capitulation for the Citadel of Tour⯑nay; which is, That he does not think fit to ſign that Capitulation, except the Allies will grant a Ceſſation of Arms in general, during the Time in which all Acts of Hoſtility were to have ceaſed between the Citadel and the Be⯑ſiegers. Soon after the Receipt of this News, [22] the Cannon on each Side began to play. There are Two Attacks againſt the Citadel, commanded by General Lottum and General Schuylemberg, which are both carried on with great Succeſs; and it is not doubted but the Citadel will be in the Hands of the Allies before the laſt Day of this Month. Letters from Ipres ſay, That on the 9th Inſtant, Part of the Garriſon of that Place had mutined in Two Bodies, each conſiſting of Two Hundred; who being diſperſed the ſame Day, a Body of Eight Hundred appeared in the Market-Place at Nine the Night following, and ſeized all Manner of Proviſions; but were with much Dif⯑ficulty quieted. The Governour has not puniſh⯑ed any of the Offenders, the Diſſatisfaction being univerſal in that Place; and it is thought, the Officers foment thoſe Diſorders, that the Miniſtry may be convinced of the Neceſſity of paying thoſe Troops, and ſupplying them with Provi⯑ſions. Theſe Advices add, That on the 14th the Marquis d'Eſte paſſed Expreſs through Bruſſels from the Duke of Savoy, with Advice, That the Army of his Royal Highneſs had forced the Re⯑trenchments of the Enemy in Savoy, and defeated that Body of Men which guarded thoſe Paſſes un⯑der the Command of the Marquis de Thouy.

Of the Government of Affection.

WHEN Labour was pronounced to be the Portion of Man, that Doom reach⯑ed the Affections of his Mind, as well as his Perſon, the Matter on which he was to feed, and all the animal and vegetable World about him. There is therefore an aſſiduous Care and Cultivation to be beſtowed upon our Paſſions and Affections; for they, as they are the Ex⯑creſcencies of our Souls, like our Hair and Beards, look horrid or becoming, as we cut or let 'em grow. All this grave Preface is meant to aſſign a Reaſon in Nature for the unaccoun⯑table Behaviour of Duumvir, the Husband and Keeper. Ten Thouſand Follies had this unhap⯑py Man eſcaped, had he made a Compact with himſelf to be upon his Guard, and not permit⯑ted his vagrant Eye to let in ſo many different Inclinations upon him, as all his Days he has been perplexed with. But indeed at preſent he has brought himſelf to be confined only to one prevailing Miſtreſs; between whom and his Wife, Duumvir paſſes his Hours in all the Vi⯑ciſſitudes which attend Paſſion and Affection, without the Intervention of Reaſon. Laura his Wife, and Phillis his Miſtreſs, are all with whom he has had, for ſome Months, the leaſt amorous Commerce. Duumvir has paſſed the Noon of Life; but cannot withdraw from thoſe Enter⯑tainments [24] which are pardonable only before that Stage of our Being, and which after that Seaſon are rather Puniſhments than Satisfactions: For pall'd Appetite is humorous, and muſt be grati⯑fied with Sauces rather than Food. For which End Duumvir is provided with an haughty, imperious, expenſive, and fantaſtick Miſtreſs, to whom he retires from the Converſation of an affable, humble, diſcrect, and affectionate Wife. Laura receives him after Abſence with an eaſie and unaffected Complacency; but that he calls inſipid: Phillis rates him for his Abſence, and bids him return from whence he came: This he calls Spirit and Fire. Laura's Gentleneſs is thought mean; Phillis's Inſolence, ſprightly. Were you to ſee him at his own Home, and his Miſtreſs's Lodgings, to Phillis he appears an ob⯑ſequious Lover, to Laura an imperious Ma⯑ſter. Nay, ſo unjuſt is the Taſte of Duumvir, that he owns Laura has no ill Quality, but that ſhe is his Wife; Phillis no good one, but that ſhe is his Miſtreſs. And he has himſelf often ſaid, were he married to any one elſe, he would rather keep Laura than any Woman li⯑ving; yet allows at the ſame Time, that Phillis, were ſhe a Woman of Honour, would have been the moſt inſipid Animal breathing. The other Day Laura, who has a Voice like an An⯑gel, began to ſing to him: Fie Madam, he cry'd, we muſt be paſt all theſe Gaieties. Phillis has a Note as rude and as loud as that of a Milk-Maid: When ſhe begins to warble; Well, ſays he, There is ſuch a pleaſing Simplicity in all that Wench does—In a Word, the affectionate Part of his Heart being corrupted, and his true Taſte that Way wholly loſt, he has contracted a Prejudice to all the Behaviour of Laura, and a general Partiality in Favour of Phillis. It is not in the Power of the Wife to [25] do a pleaſing Thing, nor in the Miſtreſs to com⯑mit one that is diſagreeable. There is ſome⯑thing too melancholy in the Reflection on this Circumſtance to be the Subject of Raillery. He ſaid a ſour Thing to Laura at Dinner the other Day; upon which ſhe burſt into Tears. What the Devil, Madam, ſays he, can't I ſpeak in my own Houſe? He anſwer'd Phillis a little abrupt⯑ly at Supper the ſame Evening; upon which ſhe threw his Periwig into the Fire. Well, ſaid he, thou art a brave Termagant Jade; Do you know, Huſſey, that fair Wig coſt Forty Guinea's? Oh Laura! Is it for this that the faithful Chromius ſigh'd for you in vain? How is thy Condition alter'd, ſince Crowds of Youth hung on thy Eye, and watch'd its Glances? It is not many Months ſince Laura was the Won⯑der and Pride of her own Sex, as well as the Deſire and Paſſion of ours. At Plays and at Balls, the juſt Turn of her Behaviour, the De⯑cency of her Virgin Charms, chaſtis'd, yet ad⯑ded to Diverſions. At Publick Devotions, her winning Modeſty, her reſign'd Carriage, made Virtue and Religion appear with new Orna⯑ments, and in the natural Apparel of Simplicity and Beauty. In ordinary Converſations, a ſweet Conformity of Manners, and an Humility which heighten'd all the Complacencies of good Breed⯑ing and Education, gave her more Slaves than all the Pride of her Sex ever made Woman wiſh for. Laura's Hours are now ſpent in the ſad Reflection on her Choice, and that deceit⯑ful Vanity (almoſt inſeparable from the Sex) [...]f believing, ſhe could reclaim one that had ſo [...]ften enſnared others; as it now is, it is not [...]ven in the Power of Duumvir himſelf to do her [...]uſtice: For though Beauty and Merit are Things [...]eal, and independent on Taſte and Opinion, [...]et Agreeableneſs is arbitrary, and the Miſtreſs [26] has much the Advantage of the Wife. But when⯑ever Fate is ſo kind to her and her Spouſe as to end her Days, with all this Paſſion for Phillis, and Indifference for Laura, he has a Second Wife in View, who may avenge the Injuries done to her Predeceſſor. Aglaura is the deſtin'd Lady, who has liv'd in Aſſemblies, has Ambition and Play for her Entertainment, and thinks of a Man, not as the Object of Love, but the Tool of her Intereſt or Pride. If ever Aglaura comes to the Empire of this Inconſtant, ſhe will endear the Memory of her Predeceſſor. But in the mean Time, it is melancholy to conſider, That the Vir⯑tue of a Wife is like the Merit of a Poet, never juſtly valued till after Death.

As we have profeſſed, that all the Actions of Men are our Subject, the moſt ſolemn are not to be omitted, if there happen to creep into their Behaviour any Thing improper for ſuch Occa⯑ſions. Therefore the Offence mentioned in the following Epiſtles (tho' it may ſeem to be com⯑mitted in a Place ſacred from Obſervation) is ſuch, that it is our Duty to remark upon it; for though he who does it is himſelf only guilty of an Inde⯑corum, he occaſions a Criminal Levity in all o⯑thers who are preſent at it.

It is wonderful there ſhould be ſuch a general Lamentation, and the Grievance ſo frequent, and yet the Offender never know any Thing of it. I have received the following Letter from my Kinſ⯑man at the Heralds-Office, near the ſame Place.

There have been communicated to me ſome o⯑ther ill Conſequences from the ſame Cauſe; as, the overturning of Coaches by ſudden Starts of the Horſes as they paſs'd that Way, Women pregnant frighten'd, and Heirs to Families loſt; which are Publick Diſaſters, though ariſing from a good In⯑tention: But it is hoped, after this Admonition, that Stentor will aviod an Act of ſo great Super⯑crogation, as ſinging without a Voice.

But I am diverted from proſecuting Stentor's Reformation, by an Account, That the Two faith⯑ful Lovers, Liſander and Coriana, are dead; for no longer ago than the firſt of the laſt Month they ſwore eternal Fidelity to each other, and to love till Death. Ever ſince that Time, Liſander has been twice a Day at the Chocolate-houſe, viſits in every Circle, is miſſing Four Hours in Four and twenty, and will give no Account of himſelf. Theſe are undoubted Proofs of the Departure of a Lover; and conſequently Coriana is alſo dead as a Miſtreſs. I have written to Stentor to give this Couple Three Calls at the Church Door, which they muſt hear if they are living within the Bills of Mortality; and if they do not anſwer at that Time, they are from that Moment added to the Number of my Defunct.

WHILE others are buſied in Relations which concern the Intereſts of Princes, the Peace of Nations, and the Revolutions of Em⯑pire, I think (though theſe are very great Sub⯑jects) my Theme of Diſcourſe is ſometimes to be of Matters of a yet higher Conſideration. The ſlow Steps of Providence and Nature, and ſtrange Events which are brought about in an Inſtant, are what, as they come within our View and Obſervation, ſhall be given to the Publick. Such Things are not accompanied with Show and Noiſe, and therefore ſeldom draw the Eyes of the unattentive Part of Mankind; but are very proper at once to exerciſe our Humanity, pleaſe our Imaginations, and improve our Judg⯑ments. It may not therefore be unuſeful to re⯑late many Circumſtances, which were obſerva⯑ble upon a late Cure done upon a young Gentle⯑man who was born blind, and on the 29th of June laſt received his Sight at the Age of Twen⯑ty Years, by the Operation of an Oculiſt. This happened no farther off than Newington, and the Work was prepar'd for in the following Man⯑ner.

The Operator, Mr. Grant, having obſerved the Eyes of his Patient, and convinced his Friends and Relations, among others the Reverend Mr. Caſwell Miniſter of the Place, that it was highly probable [30] he ſhould remove the Obſtacle which prevented the Uſe of his Sight; all his Acquaintance, who had any Regard for the young Man, or Curioſity to be preſent when one of full Age and Under⯑ſtanding received a new Senſe, aſſembled them⯑ſelves on this Occaſion. Mr. Caſwell being a Gen⯑tleman particularly curious, deſired the whole Company, in caſe the Blindneſs ſhould be cured, to keep Silence, and let the Patient make his own Obſervations, without the Direction of any Thing he had received by his other Senſes, or the Advantage of diſcovering his Friends by their Voices. Among ſeveral others, the Mother, Brethren, Siſters, and a young Gentle⯑woman for whom he had a Paſſion, were pre⯑ſent. The Work was performed with great Skill and Dexterity. When the Patient firſt re⯑ceived the Dawn of Light, there appeared ſuch an Extacy in his Action, that he ſeemed ready to ſweon away in the Surprize of Joy and Won⯑der. The Surgeon ſtood before him with his Inſtruments in his Hand. The young Man ob⯑ſerved him from Head to Foot; after which he ſurveyed himſelf as carefully, and ſeem'd to compare him to himſelf; and obſerving both their Hands, ſeem'd to think they were exactly alike, except the Inſtruments, which he took for Parts of his Hands. When he had conti⯑nued in this Amazement ſome Time, his Mo⯑ther could not longer bear the Agitations of ſo many Paſſions as throng'd upon her, but fell upon his Neck, crying out, My Son! My Son! The Youth knew her Voice, and could ſpeak no more than, Oh me! Are you my Mother? and fainted. The whole Room, you will eaſily conceive, were very affectionately employed in recovering him; but above all, the young Gen⯑tlewoman who loved him, and whom he loved, ſhreik'd in the loudeſt Manner. That [31] Voice ſeem'd to have a ſudden Effect upon him as he recover'd, and he ſhowed a double Cu⯑rioſity in obſerving her as ſhe ſpoke and call'd to him; till at laſt he broke out, What has been done to me? Whither am I carried? Is all this about me, the Thing I have heard ſo often of? Is this the Light? Is this Seeing? Were you always thus happy, when you ſaid, you were glad to ſee each other? Where is Tom. who uſed to lead me? But I could now, methinks, go any where without him. He offered to move, but ſeem'd afraid of every Thing around him. When they ſaw his Difficulty, they told him, till he became better acquainted with his new Being, he muſt let the Servant ſtill lead him. The Boy was call'd for, and preſented to him. Mr. Caſwell ask'd him, What Sort of Thing he took Tom. to be before he had ſeen him. He anſwer'd, He believed there was not ſo much of him as of himſelf; but he fancied him the ſame Sort of Creature. The Noiſe of this ſudden Change made all the Neighbour⯑hood throng to the Place where he was. As he ſaw the Crowd thickening, he deſired Mr. Caſ⯑well to tell him how many there were in all to be ſeen. The Gentleman, ſmiling, anſwered him, That it would be very proper for him to return to his late Condition, and ſuffer his Eyes to be covered, till they had received Strength; for he might remember well enough, that by Degrees he had from little and little come to the Strength he had at preſent in his Ability of Walking and Moving; and that it was the ſame Thing with his Eyes, which, he ſaid, would loſe the Power of continuing to him that won⯑derful Tranſport he was now in, except he would be contented to lay aſide the Uſe of them, till they were ſtrong enough to bear the Light without ſo much Feeling, as he knew he [32] underwent at preſent. With much Reluctance he was prevailed upon to have his Eyes bound, in which Condition they kept him in a dark Room, till it was proper to let the Organ receive its Ob⯑jects without further Precaution. During the Time of this Darkneſs, he bewail'd himſelf in the moſt diſtreſſed Manner, and accuſed all his Friends, complaining, that ſome Incantation had been wrought upon him, and ſome ſtrange Ma⯑gick uſed to deceive him into an Opinion, that he had enjoyed what they called Sight. He added, That the Impreſſions then let in upon his Soul would certainly diſtract him, it he were not ſo at that preſent. At another Time he would ſtrive to name the Perſons he had ſeen among the Crowd after he was couched, and would pretend to ſpeak (in perplexed Terms of his own ma⯑king) of what he in that ſhort Time obſerved. But on the 6th Inſtant it was thought fit to un⯑bind his Head, and the young Woman whom he loved was inſtructed to open his Eyes according⯑ly, as well to indear her ſelf to him by ſuch a Circumſtance, as to moderate his Extaſies by the Perſwaſion of a Voice, which had ſo much Power over him as hers: ever had. When this belov'd young Woman began to take off the Binding of his Eyes, ſhe talk'd to him as follows: ‘Mr. William, I am now taking the Binding off, though when I conſider what I am doing, I tremble with the Apprehenſion, that (though I have from my very Childhood loved you, dark as you were, and though you had con⯑ceived ſo ſtrong a Love for me, yet) you will find there is ſuch a Thing as Beauty, which may enſnare you into a Thouſand P [...]ſions of which you now are innocent, and take you from me for ever. But before I put my ſelf to that Hazard, tell me in what Manner that [33] Love you always profeſſed to me entered into your Heart; for its uſual Admiſſion is at the Eyes.’

The young Man anſwer'd, ‘Dear Lidis, If I am to loſe by Sight the ſoft Pantings which I have always felt when I heard your Voice; If I am no more to diſtinguiſh the Step of her I love when ſhe approaches me, but to change that ſweet and frequent Pleaſure for ſuch an Amaze⯑ment as I knew the little Time I lately ſaw: Or if I am to have any Thing beſides, which may take from me the Senſe I have of what appeared moſt pleaſing to me at that Time (which Apparition it ſeems was you): Pull out theſe Eyes, before they lead me to be ungrate⯑ful to you, or undo my ſelf. I wiſh'd for them but to ſee you; pull them out, if they are to make me forget you.’

Lidia was extremely ſatisfied with theſe Aſſu⯑rances; and pleaſed her ſelf with playing with his Perplexities. In all his Talk to her, he ſhow⯑ed but very feint Idea's of any Thing which had not been received at the Ear; and cloſed his Pro⯑teſtation to her, by ſaying, That if he were to ſee Valentia and Barcelona, whom he ſuppoſed the moſt eſteemed of all Women, by the Quarrel there was about them, he would never like any but Lidia.

We have repeated Advices of the entire De⯑feat of the Swediſh Army near Pultowa on the 27th of June, O. S. And Letters from Berlin give the following Account of the Remains of the Swediſh Army ſince the Battle: Prince Men⯑zikoff being order'd to purſue the Victory, came up with the Swediſh Army (which was left to the Command of General Lewenhaupt) on the [34] 3oth of June, O. S. on the Banks of the Boriſt⯑henes; whereupon he ſent General Lewenhaupt a Summons to ſubmit to his preſent Fortune: Lewenhaupt immediately diſpatched Three Ge⯑neral Officers to that Prince, to treat about a Capitulation; but the Swedes, though they con⯑ſiſted of 15000 Men, were in ſo great a Want of Proviſion and Ammunition, that they were obli⯑ged to ſurrender themſelves at Diſcretion. His Czariſh Majeſty diſpatched an Expreſs to Gene⯑ral Goltz with an Account of theſe Particulars, and alſo with Inſtructions to ſend out Detach⯑ments of his Cavalry to prevent the King of Swe⯑den's joining his Army in Poland. That Prince made his Eſcape with a ſmall Party by ſwimming over the Boriſthenes; and it was thought, he de⯑ſigned to retire into Poland by the Way of Vol⯑hinia. Advices from Bern of the 11th Inſtant ſay, That the General Diet of the Helvetick Body held at Baden concluded on the 6th; but the Deputies of the Six Cantons, who are deputed to de⯑termine the Affair of Tockenburg, continue their Application to that Buſineſs, notwithſtanding ſome new Difficulties ſtarted by the Abbot of St. Gall. Letters from Geneva of the 9th ſay, That the Duke of Savoy's Cavalry had join'd Count Thaun, as had alſo Two Imperial Regi⯑ments of Huſſars; and that his Royal Highneſs's Army was diſpoſed in the following Manner: The Troops under the Command of Count Thaun are extended from Conſtans to St. Peter de Albigni. Small Parties are left in ſeveral Poſts from thence to Little St. Bernard, to preſerve the Communi⯑cation with Piedmont by the Valley of Aoſta. Some Forces are alſo poſted at Taloir, and in the Caſtle of Doin, on each Side of the Lake of An⯑ [...]i. General Rhebinder is encamp'd in the Val⯑ley of Oulx with 10000 Foot, and ſome Detach⯑ments of Horſe: His Troops are extended from [35] Exilles to Mount Genevre, ſo that he may eaſily penetrate into Dauphine on the leaſt Motion of the Enemy; but the Duke of Berwick takes all neceſſary Precautions to prevent ſuch an Enter⯑prize. That General's Head Quarters are at Francin; and he hath diſpoſed his Army in ſeve⯑ral Parties, to preſerve a Communication with the Maurienne and Briancon. He hath no Proviſions for his Army but from Savoy; Provence and Dau⯑phine being unable to ſupply him with Neceſſa⯑ries. He left Two Regiments of Dragoons at Annen, who ſuffer'd very much in the late Action at Teſſons, where they loſt 1500, who were killed on the Spot, 4 Standards, and 300 Priſoners, a⯑mong whom were 40 Officers. The laſt Letters from the Duke of Marlborough's Camp at Orchies of the 19th Inſtant adviſe, That Monſieur Ravig⯑nan being returned from the French Court with an Account, That the King of France refuſed to ratify the Capitulation for the Surrender of the Citadel of Tournay, the Approaches have been carried on with great Vigour and Succeſs: Our Miners have diſcovered ſeveral of the Enemy's Mines, who have ſprung divers others, which did little Execution; but for the better Security of the Troops, both Aſſaults are carried on by the cautious Way of Sapping. On the 18th, the Con⯑federate Army made a general Forage without any Loſs. Marſhal Villars continues in his former Camp, and applies himſelf with great Diligence in caſting up new Lines behind the old on the Scarp The Duke of Marlborough and Prince Eu⯑gene deſigned to begin a general Review of the Army on the 20th.

THere is a young Foreigner committed to my Care, who puzzles me extremely in the Queſtions he asks about the Perſons of Fi⯑gure we meet in Publick Places. He has but very little of our Language, and therefore I am mightily at a Loſs to expreſs to him Things, for which they have no Word in that Tongue to which he was born. It has been often my Anſwer, upon his asking, Who ſuch a fine Gen⯑tleman is? That he is what we call a Sharper, and he wants my Explication. I thought it would be very unjuſt to tell him, he is the ſame the French call Coquin; the Latins, Nebulo; or the Greeks, [...]: For as Cuſtom is the moſt powerful of all Laws, and that the Order of Men we call Sharpers are received amongſt us, not only with Permiſſion, but Favour, I thought it unjuſt to uſe them like Perſons upon no Eſtabliſhment. Beſides that, it would be an unpardonable Diſhonour to our Country, to let h m leave us with an Opinion, that our Nobi⯑lity and Gentry kept Company with common Thiefs and Cheats; I told him, they were a Sort of tame Huſſars that were allowed in our Cities, like the wild Ones in our Camp, who had all the Privileges belonging to us, but as the ſame Time were not tied to our Diſcipline [37] or Laws. Aletheus, who is a Gentleman of too much Virtue for the Age he lives in, would not let this Matter be thus palliated, but told my Pupil, That he was to underſtand, that Di⯑ſtinction, Quality, Merit, and Induſtry, were laid aſide amongſt us by the Incurſions of theſe civil Huſſars, who had got ſo much Counte⯑nance, that the Breeding and Faſhion of the Age turned their Way to the Ruin of Order and Oeconomy in all Places where they are ad⯑mitted. But Sophronius, who never falls into Heat upon any Subject, but applies proper Lan⯑guage, Temper, and Skill, with which the Thing in Debate is to be treated, told the Youth, that Gentleman had ſpoken nothing but what was literally true, but fell upon it with too much Earneſtneſs to give a true Idea of that Sort of People he was declaiming againſt, or to reme⯑dy the Evil which he bewail'd: For the Ac⯑ceptance of theſe Men being an Ill which hath crept into the Converſation-Part of our Lives, and not into our Conſtitution it ſelf, it muſt be corrected where it began, and conſequently is to be amended only by bringing Raillery and Deriſion upon the Perſons who are guilty, or thoſe who converſe with them. For the Sharpers (continued he) at preſent are not as formerly, under the Acceptation of Pickpock⯑ets; but are by Cuſtom erected into a real and venerable Body of Men, and have ſubdued us to ſo very particular a Deference to them, that though they are known to be Men without Honour or Conſcience, no Demand is called a Debt of Honour ſo indiſputably as theirs. You may loſe your Honour to them, but they lay none againſt you: As the Prieſthood in Roman Catholick Countries can purchaſe what they pleaſe for the Church, but they can alienate no⯑thing from it. It is from this Toleration, that [38] Sharpers are to be found among all Sorts of Aſ⯑ſemblies and Companies, and every Talent a⯑mongſt Men is made Uſe of by ſome one or other of the Society for the Good of their Com⯑mon Cauſe: So that an unexperienced young Gentleman is as often enſnared by his Under⯑ſtanding as his Folly: For who could be un⯑moved, to hear the eloquent Dromio explain the Conſtitution, talk in the Key of Cato, with the Severity of one of the ancient Sages, and debate the greateſt Queſtion of State in a common Chocolate or Coffee-houſe; Who could, I ſay, hear this generous Declamator, without being fired at his noble Zeal, and becoming his pro⯑feſſed Follower, if he might be admitted. Mo⯑noculus's Gravity would be no leſs inviting to a Beginner in Converſation, and the Snare of his Eloquence would equally catch one who had never ſeen an old Gentleman ſo very wiſe, and yet ſo little ſevere. Many other Inſtances of ex⯑traordinary Men among the Brotherhood might be produced; but every Man who knows the Town, can ſupply himſelf with ſuch Exam⯑ples without their being named. Will. Vafer, who is skilful at finding out the ridiculous Side of a Thing, and placing it in a new and proper Light, (though he very ſeldom talks) thought fit to enter into this Subject. He has lately loſt certain looſe Sums, which half the Income of his Eſtate will bring in within ſeven Years: Beſides which, he propoſes to marry to ſet all right. He was therefore indolent enough to ſpeak of this Matter with great Impartiality. ‘'When I look round me, ſaid this eaſy Gentle⯑man, and conſider in a juſt Ballance us Bub⯑bles, Elder Brothers, whoſe Support our dull Fathers contrived to depend upon certain Acres; with the Rooks, whoſe Anceſtors left them the wide World; I cannot but admire [39] their Fraternity, and contemn my own. Is not Jack Heyday much to be preferred to the Knight he has bubbled? Jack has his Equipage, his Wenches, and his Followers: The Knight ſo far from a Retinue, that he is almoſt one of Jack's. However, he is gay, you ſee, ſtill; a florid Outſide—His Habit ſpeaks the Man—And ſince he muſt unbutton, he would not be reduced outwardly, but is ſtripped to his upper Coat. But though I have great Temptation to it, I will not at this Time give the Hiſtory of the loſing Side, but ſpeak the Effects of my Thoughts, ſince the Loſs of my Money, upon the gaining People. This ill Fortune makes moſt Men contemplative and given to Read⯑ing; at leaſt it has happened ſo to me; and the Riſe and Fall of the Family of Sharpers in all Ages has been my Contemplation.'’

I find, all Times have had of this People; Homer, in his excellent Heroick Poem, calls them Myrmidons, who were a Body who kept among themſelves, and had nothing to loſe; therefore never ſpared either Greek or Trojan, when they fell in their Way, upon a Party. But there is a memorable Verſe which gives us an Account of what broke that whole Body, and made both Greeks and Trojans Maſters of the Secret of their Warfare and Plunder. There is nothing ſo pedantick as many Quotations; therefore I ſhall inform you only, that in this Battalion there were two Officers called Therſites and Pandarus; they were both leſs renowned for their Beauty than their Wit; but each had this particular Happineſs, that they were plunged over Head and Ears in the ſame Water, which made Achilles invulnerable; and had ever af⯑ter certain Gifts which the reſt of tke World were never to enjoy. Among others, they were [40] never to know they were the moſt dreadful to the Sight of all Mortals, never to be diffident of their own Abilities, never to bluſh, or ever to be wounded but by each other. Though ſome Hiſtorians ſay, Gaming began among the Ly⯑dians to divert Hunger, I could cite many Au⯑thorities to prove it had its Riſe at the Siege of Troy; and that Ulyſſes won the Sevenfold Shield at Hazard. But be that as it may, the Ruin of the Corps of the Myrmidons proceeded from a Breach between Therſites and Pandarus. The Firſt of theſe was Leader of a Squadron, wherein the Latter was but a private Man; but having all the good Qualities neceſſary for a Partizan, he was the Favourite of his Officer. But the whole Hiſtory of the ſeveral Changes in the Order of Sharpers, from thoſe Myrmidons to our Modern Men of Addreſs and Plunder, will require that we conſult ſome ancient Ma⯑nuſcripts. As we make theſe Enquiries, we ſhall diurnally communicate them to the Pub⯑lick, that the Knights of the Induſtry may be better underſtood by the good People of England. Theſe Sort of Men in ſome Ages, were Syco⯑phants and Flatterers only, and were endued with Arts of Life to capacitate them for the Converſation of the Rich and Great; but now the Bubble courts the Impoſtor, and pretends at the utmoſt to be but his Equal. To clear up the Reaſons and Cauſes in ſuch Revolutions, and the different Conduct between Fools and Cheats, ſhall be one of our Labours for the Good of this Kingdom. How therefore Pimps, Foot⯑men, Fiddlers, and Lacqueys, are elevated into Companions in this preſent Age, ſhall be ac⯑counted for from the Influence of the Planet Mercury on this Iſland; the Aſcendency of which Sharper over Sol, who is a Patron of the Muſes, and all honeſt Profeſſions, has been noted by [41] the learned Job Gadbury to be the Cauſe, that Cunning and Trick are more eſteemed than Art and Science. It muſt be allowed alſo, to the Memory of Mr. Partridge, late of Cecil-ſtreet in the Strand, that in his Anſwer to an Horary Queſtion, at what Hour of the Night to ſet a Fox-Trap in June 1705? He has largely diſcuſs'd, under the Character of Reynard, the Manner of ſurprizing all Sharpers as well as him. But of theſe great Points, after more mature Delibera⯑tion.

I am to acknowledge ſeveral Letters which I have lately received; among others, one ſubſcri⯑bed Philanthropos, another Emilia, both which ſhall be honour'd. I have a Third from an Offi⯑cer of the Army, wherein he deſires I would do Juſtice to the many gallant Actions which have been done by Men of private Characters, or Of⯑ficers of lower Stations, during this long War; that their Families may have the Pleaſure of ſee⯑ing we lived in an Age wherein Men of all Or⯑ders had their proper Share in Fame and Glory. There is nothing I ſhould undertake with greater Pleaſure than Matters-of this Kind: If therefore they who are acquainted with ſuch Facts, would pleaſe to communicate them, by Letter directed to me at Mr. Morphew's, no Pains ſhould be ſpa⯑red to put them in a proper and diſtinguiſhing Light.

I Was this Evening repreſenting a Complaint ſent me out of the Country from Emilia. She ſays, her Neighbours there have ſo little Senſe of what a Refined Lady of the Town is, that ſhe who was a celebrated Wit in London, is in that dull Part of the World in ſo little Eſteem, that they call her in their baſe Style a Tongue-Pad. Old Truepenny bid me adviſe her to keep her Wit till ſhe comes to Town again, and admo⯑niſh her, that both Wit and Breeding are local; for a Fine Court-Lady is as aukward among Country Houſewives, as one of them would appear in a Drawing-Room. 'Tis therefore the moſt uſeful Knowledge one can attain at, to underſtand among what Sort of Men we make the beſt Figure; for if there be a Place where the beauteous and accompliſh'd Emilia is unac⯑ceptable, it is certainly a vain Endeavour to at⯑tempt pleaſing in all Converſations. Here is Will. Ubi, who is ſo thirſty after the Reputation of a Companion, that his Company is for any Body that will accept of it; and for Want of knowing whom to chuſe for himſelf, is never choſen by others. There is a certain Chaſtity of Behaviour which makes a Man deſirable, and which, if he tranſgreſſes, his Wit will have the ſame Fate with Delia's Beauty, which no one [44] regards, becauſe all know it is within their Power. The beſt Courſe Emilia can take, is, to have leſs Humility; for if ſhe could have as good an Opi⯑nion of her ſelf for having every Quality, as ſome of her Neighbours have of themſelves with one, ſhe would inſpire even them with a Senſe of her Merit, and make that Carriage (which is now the Subject of their Deriſion) the ſole Object of their Imitation. Till ſhe has arrived at this Va⯑lue of her ſelf, ſhe muſt be contented with the Fate of that uncommon Creature, a Woman too humble.

Since my laſt, I have received a Letter from Tom. Trump, to deſire that I would do the Fra⯑ternity of Gameſters the Juſtice to own, that there are notorious Sharpers who are not of their Claſs. Among others, he preſented me with the Picture of Harry Copperſmith in Little, who (he ſays) is at this Day worth half a Plumb, by Means much more indirect than by falſe Dice. I muſt confeſs, there appeared ſome Reaſon in what he aſſerted; and he met me ſince, and ac⯑coſted me in the following Manner: ‘"It is won⯑derful to me, Mr. Bickerſtaff, that you can pre⯑tend to be a Man of Penetration, and fall upon us Knights of the Induſtry as the wickedeſt of Mortals, when there are ſo many who live in the conſtant Practice of baſer Methods unob⯑ſerved. You cannot (though you know the Story of my ſelf and the North Briton) but al⯑low I am an honeſter Man than Will. Copper⯑ſmith, for all his great Credit among the Lom⯑bards. I get my Money by Men's Follies, and he gets his by their Diſtreſſes. The declining Merchant communicates his Griefs to him, and he augments them by Extortion. If therefore Regard is to be had to the Merit of the Perſons [45] we injure, Who is the more blameable, he that oppreſſes an unhappy Man, or he that cheats a fooliſh one? All Mankind are indifferently lia⯑ble to adverſe Strokes of Fortune; and he who adds to them, when he might relieve them, is certainly a worſe Subject, than he who unbur⯑dens a Man whoſe Proſperity is unweildy to him. Beſides all which, he that borrows of Cop⯑perſmith, does it out of Neceſſity; he that plays with me, does it out of Choice.'’

I allowed Trump there are Men as bad as him⯑ſelf, which is the Height of his Pretenſions; and muſt confeſs, that Copperſmith is the moſt wicked and impudent of all Sharpers: A Creature that cheats with Credit, and is a Robber in the Habit of a Friend. The Contemplation of this worthy Perſon made me reflect on the wonderful Succeſ⯑ſes I have obſerved Men of the meaneſt Capaci⯑ties meet with in the World, and recollected an Obſervation I once heard a ſage Man make; which was, That he had obſerved, that in ſome Profeſſions, the lower the Underſtanding, the greater the Capacity. I remember, he inſtanced that of a Banker, and ſaid, That the fewer Appe⯑tites, Paſſions, and Idea's a Man had, he was the better for his Buſineſs.

There is little Sir Triſtram, without Connexion in his Speech, or ſo much as common Senſe, has arrived by his own natural Parts at one of the greateſt Eſtates amongſt us. But honeſt Sir Tri⯑ſtram knows himſelf to be but a Repoſitory for Caſh: He is juſt ſuch an Utenſil as his Iron Cheſt, and may rather be ſaid to hold Money, than poſſeſs it. There is nothing ſo pleaſant as to be in the Converſation of theſe wealthy Pro⯑ficients. I had lately the Honour to drink Half a Pint with Sir Triſtram, Harry Copper⯑ſmith, and Giles Twoſhoes. Theſe Wags give one another Credit in Diſcourſe according to [46] their Purſes; they jeſt by the Pound, and make Anſwers as they honour Bills. Without Vanity, I thought my ſelf the Prettieſt Fellow of the Company; but I had no Manner of Power over one Muſcle in their Faces, though they ſneer'd at every Word ſpoken by each other. Sir Tri⯑ſtram called for a Pipe of Tobacco; and telling us Tobacco was a Pot-Herb, bid the Drawer bring in t'other Half-Pint. Twoſhoes laughed at the Knight's Wit without Moderation. I took the Liberty to ſay, it was but a Pun. A Pun! ſays Copperſmith: You would be a better Man by 10000 l. if you could pun like Sir Triſtram. With that, they all burſt out together. The Queer Curs maintain'd this Style of Dialogue till we had drank our Quarts a-piece by Half-Pints. All I could bring away with me, is, That Twoſhoes is not worth Twenty Thouſand Pounds; for his Mirth, though he was as inſipid as either of the others, had no more Effect up⯑on the Company, than if he had been a Bank⯑rupt.

I have heard, it has been adviſed by a Dioceſan to his inferior Clergy, that inſtead of broaching Opinions of their own, and uttering Doctrines which may lead themſelves and Hearers into Errors, they would read ſome of the moſt ce⯑lebrated Sermons printed by others for the In⯑ſtruction of their Congregations. In Imitation of ſuch Preachers at Second-hand, I ſhall tran⯑ſcribe from Bruyere one of the moſt elegant Pie⯑ces of Raillery and Satyr which I have ever read. He deſcribes the French, as if ſpeaking of a Peo⯑ple not yet diſcover'd, in the Air and Style of a Traveller.

Letters from Hampſtead ſay, There is a Cox⯑comb arrived there, of a Kind which is utterly new. The Fellow has Courage, which he takes himſelf to be obliged to give Proofs of every Hour he lives. He is ever fighting with the Men, and contradicting the Women. A Lady who ſent him to me, ſuperſcrib'd him with this Deſcription out of Suckling:

POor Cynthio (who does me the Honour to talk to me now and then very freely of his moſt ſecret Thoughts, and tells me his moſt private Frailties) own'd to me, that tho' he is in his very Prime of Life, Love had killed all his Deſires, and he was now as much to be truſted with a Fine Lady, as if he were Eighty. That one Paſ⯑ſion for Clariſſa has taken up (ſaid he) my whole Soul, and all my idle Flames are extinguiſh'd, as you may obſerve, ordinary Fires are often put out by the Sunſhine.

This was a Declaration not to be made, but up⯑on the higheſt Opinion of a Man's Sincerity; yet as much a Subject of Raillery as ſuch a Speech would be, it is certain, that Chaſtity is a nobler Quali⯑ty, and as much to be valued in Men as in Wo⯑men. The mighty Scipio, who (as Bluffe ſays in the Comedy) was a Pretty Fellow in his Time, was of this Mind, and is celebrated for it by an Author of good Senſe. When he lived, Wit, and Humour, and Raillery, and Publick Succeſs, were at as high a Pitch at Rome, as at preſent in England; yet I believe, there was no Man in thoſe Days thought that General at all ridiculous in his Behaviour in the following Account of him.

Scipio, at Four and Twenty Years of Age, had obtained a great Victory, and a Multitude of Priſoners of each Sex, and all Conditions, fell nto his Poſſeſſion: Among others, an agree⯑able Virgin in her early Bloom and Beauty. He had too ſenſible a Spirit to ſee the moſt lovely [50] of all Objects without being moved with Paſſion: Beſides which, there was no Obligation of Ho⯑nour or Virtue to reſtrain his Deſires towards one who was his by the Fortune of War. But a noble Indignation, and a ſudden Sorrow, which ap⯑peared in her Countenance, when a Conqueror caſt his Eyes upon her, raiſed his Curioſity to know her Story. He was informed, That ſhe was a Lady of the higheſt Condition in that Country, and contracted to Indibilis, a Man of Merit and Quality. The generous Roman ſoon placed himſelf in the Condition of that unhappy Man, who was to loſe ſo charming a Bride; and though a Youth, a Batchelor, a Lover, and a Conqueror, immediately reſolved to reſign all the Invitations of his Paſſion, and the Rights of his Power, to reſtore her to her deſtined Huſ⯑band. With this Purpoſe he commanded her Parents and Relations, as well as her Husband, to attend him at an appointed Time. When they met, and were waiting for the General, my Au⯑thor frames to himſelf the different Concern of an unhappy Father, a deſpairing Lover, and a tender Mother, in the ſeveral Perſons who were ſo related to the Captive [...] But for fear of inju⯑ring the delicate Circumſtances with an old Tran⯑ſlation, I ſhall proceed to tell you, That Scipio appears to them, and leads in his Priſoner into their Preſence. The Romans (as noble as they were) ſeemed to allow themſelves a little too much Triumph over the Conquer'd; therefore, as Scipio approached, they all threw themſelves on their Knees, except the Lover of the Lady: But Scipio obſerving in him a manly Sullenneſs, was the more inclined to favour him, and ſpoke to him in theſe Words:

Indibilis's Heart was too full to make him any Anſwer, but he threw himſelf at the Feet of the General, and wept aloud. The Captive Lady fell into the ſame Poſture, and they both remained ſo till the Father burſt into the following Words? Oh Divine Scipio! The Gods have given you more than humane Virtue. Oh Glorious Leader! Oh Won⯑drous Youth! Does not that obliged Virgin give you, while ſhe prays to the Gods for your Proſperity, and thinks you ſent down from them, Raptures, above all the Tranſports which you could have reaped from the Poſſeſſion of her injur'd Perſon? The temperate Sci⯑pio anſwered him without much Emotion, and, ſaying, Father, be a Friend to Rome, retired. An immenſe Sum was offer'd as her Ranſom; but he ſent it to her Husband, and ſmiling, ſaid, This is a Trifle after what I have given him already; but let Indibilis know, that Chaſtity at my Age is a much more difficult Virtue to practiſe, than Ge⯑neroſity.

I obſerved, Cynthio was very much taken with my Narrative; but told me, this was a Vi tue that would bear but a very inconſiderable Figure in our Days. However, I took the Liberty to ſay, that we ought not to loſe our Idea's of Things, though we had debauched our true Reliſh in our Practice. For after we have done laughing, ſolid Virtue will keep its Place in Men's Opinions. And tho' Cuſtom made it not ſo ſcandalous as it ought to be, to enſnare innocent Women, and triumph in the Falſhood; ſuch Actions as we have here related, muſt be accounted true Gallantry, and riſe the higher in our Eſteem, the farther they are removed from our Imitation.

A Man would be apt to think in this laughing Town, that it were impoſſible a Thing ſo explo⯑ded as ſpeaking hard Words ſhould be practiſed by any one that had ever ſeen good Company; but as if there were a Standard in our Minds as well as Bodies, you ſee very many juſt where they were Twenty Years ago, and more they cannot, will not arrive at. Were it not thus, the noble Martius would not be the only Man in England whom no Body can underſtand, though he talks more than any Man elſe.

Will. Dactyle the Epigrammatiſt, Jack Comma the Grammarian, Nick Croſſe-grain who writes A⯑nagrams, and my ſelf, made a pretty Company at a Corner of this Room, and enter'd very peaceably upon a Subject fit enough for us; which was, the Examination of the Force of the Particle For, when Martius join'd us. He being well known to us all, asked what we were upon? For he had a Mind to conſummate the Happineſs of the Day, which had been ſpent among the Stars of the firſt Mag⯑nitude, among the Men of Letters; and there⯑fore, to put a Period to it, as he had commenced it, he ſhould be glad to be allowed to participate of the Pleaſure of our Society. I told him the Subject. Faith, Gentlemen, ſaid Martius, your Subject is humble; and if you would give me Leave to elevate the Converſation, I ſhould hum⯑bly offer, that you would enlarge your Enquiries to the Word For as-much: For though I take it, ſaid he, to be but one Word; yet, the Particle Much implying Quantity, the Particle As Simili⯑tude, it will be greater, and more like our ſelves, to treat of For-as-much: Jack Comma is always ſerious, and anſwer'd; ‘'Martius, I muſt take the Liberty to ſay, That you have fallen into all this Error and profuſe Manner of Speech by a certain Hurry in your Imagination, for Want of being more exact in the Knowledge of the Parts of [53] Speech; and it is ſo with all Men who have not well ſtudied the Particle For. You have ſpoken For without making any Inference, which is the great Uſe of that Particle. There is no Manner of Force in your Obſervation of Quantity and Si⯑militude in the Syllables As and Much. But it is ever the Fault of Men of great Wit to be in⯑correct; which Evil they run into by an indiſ⯑creet Uſe of the Word For. Conſider all the Books of Controverſy which have been written, and I'll ingage you will obſerve, that all the De⯑bate lies in this Point, Whether they brought in For in a juſt Manner, or forced it in for their own Uſe, rather than as underſtanding the Uſe of the Word it ſelf? There is nothing like familiar In⯑ſtances: You have heard the Story of the Iriſh⯑man, who reading, Money for Live Hair, took a Lodging, and expected to be paid for living at that Houſe. If this Man had known For was, in that Place, of a quite different Signification from the Particle To, he could not have fallen into the Miſtake of taking Live for what the Latins call Vivere, or rather Habitare.'’

Martius ſeem'd at a Loſs, and admiring his pro⯑found Learning, wiſhed he had been bred a Scho⯑lar, for he did not take the Scope of his Diſcourſe. This wiſe Debate, of which we had much more, made me reflect upon the Difference of their Ca⯑pacities, and wonder that there could be as it were a Diverſity in Men's Genius for Nonſence; that one ſhould bluſter, while another crept in Abſur⯑dities. Martius moves like a blind Man, lifting his Legs higher than the ordinary Way of Step⯑ping; and Comma, like one who is only ſhort⯑ſighted, picking his Way when he ſhould be marching on. Want of Learning makes Martius a brisk entertaining Fool, and gives himſelf a full Scope; but that which Comma has, and calls Learning, makes him diffident, and curb his na⯑tural Miſunderſtanding, to the great Loſs of the [54] Men of Raillery. This Converſation confirm'd me in the Opinion, that Learning uſually does but improve in us what Nature endowed us with. He that wants good Senſe, is unhappy in having it, for he has thereby only more Ways of expo⯑ſing himſelf; and he that has Senſe, knows that Learning is not Knowledge, but rather the Art of uſing it.

We have undoubted Intelligence of the Defeat of the King of Sweden; and that Prince, (who for ſome Years had hovered like an approaching Tempeſt, and was looked up at by all the Na⯑tions of Europe, which ſeemed to expect their Fate according to the Courſe he ſhould take) is now, in all Probability, an unhappy Exile, with⯑out the common Neceſſaries of Life. His Czariſh Majeſty treats his Priſoners with great Gallantry and Diſtinction. Count Rhensfeildt has had par⯑ticular Marks of his Majeſty's Eſteem, for his Merit and Services to his Maſter; but Count Pi⯑per, whom his Majeſty believes Author of the moſt violent Councils into which his Prince en⯑tered, is diſarmed and entertained accordingly. That deciſive Battle was ended at Nine in the Morning, and all the Swediſh Generals dined with the Czar that very Day, and received Aſſuran⯑ces, That they ſhould find Muſcovy was not un⯑acquainted with the Laws of Honour and Hu⯑manity.

AESOP has gain'd to himſelf an immortal Re⯑nown for figuring the Manners, Deſires, Paſſions, and Intereſts of Men, by Fables of Beaſts and Birds: I ſhall in my future Accounts of our modern Heroes and Wits vulgarly called Sharpers, imitate the Method of that delightful Moraliſt; and think, I cannot repreſent thoſe Worthies more naturally than under the Sha⯑dow of a Pack of Dogs; for this Set of Men are like them, made up of Finders, Lurchers, and Setters. Some ſearch for the Prey, others purſue, others take it; and if it be worth it, they all come in at the Death, and worry the Carcaſs. It would require a moſt exact Knowledge of the Field, and the Harbours where the Deer lie, to recount all the Revolutions in the Chaſe.

But I am diverted from the Train of my Diſcourſe of the Fraternity about this Town by Letters from Hampſtead, which give me an Account, there is a late Inſtitution there, under the Name of a Raf⯑fling-Shop, which is, it ſeems, ſecretly ſupported by a Perſon who is a deep Practitioner in the Law, and, out of Tenderneſs of Conſcience, has, under the Name of his Maid Siſly, ſet up this eaſier Way of Conveyancing and Alienating Eſtates from one Family to another. He is ſo far from having an Intelligence with the reſt of the Fraternity, that all the humbler Cheats who appear there are faced by the Partners in the [56] Bank, and driven off by the Reflection of ſupe⯑rior Braſs. This Notice is given to all the ſilly Faces that paſs that Way, that they may not be decoyed in by the ſoft Allurement of a Fine Lady, who is the Sign to the Pageantry. And at the ſame Time Signior Hawkſly, who is the Patron of the Houſhold, is deſired to leave off this in⯑terloping Trade, or admit, as he ought to do, the Knights of the Induſtry to their Share in the Spoil. But this little Matter is only by Way of Digreſſion. Therefore to return to our Worthies.

The preſent Race of Terriers and Hounds would ſtarve, were it not for the enchanted Actaeon, who has kept the whole Pack for many Succeſ⯑ſions of Hunting Seaſons. Actaeon has long Tracts of rich Soil; but had the Misfortune in his Youth to fall under the Power of Sorcery, and has been ever ſince, ſome Parts of the Year a Deer, and in ſome Parts a Man. While he is a Man, (ſuch is the Force of Magick) he no ſooner grows to ſuch a Bulk and Fatneſs, but he is again turned into a Deer, and hunted till he is lean; upon which he returns to his humane Shape. Many Arts have been tried, and many Reſolutions taken by Actaeon himſelf, to follow ſuch Methods as would break the Inchantment; but all have hitherto proved ineffectual. I have therefore, by Midnight Watchings and much Care, found out, that there is no Way to ſave him from the Jaws of his Hounds, but to deſtroy the Pack, which, by Aſtrological Praeſcience, I find I am deſtin'd to perform. For which End I have ſent out my Familiar, to bring me a Liſt of all the Places where they are harboured, that I may know where to ſound my Horn, and bring them toge⯑ther, and take an Account of their Haunts and their Marks, againſt another Opportunity.

The Author of the enſuing Letter, by his Name, and the Quotations he makes from the Ancients, ſeems a Sort of Spy from the old World, whom we Moderns ought to be careful of offending; therefore I muſt be free, and own it a fair Hit where he takes me, rather than diſ⯑oblige him.

I own this is clean, and Mr. Greenhat has con⯑vinced me that I have writ Nonſence; yet am I not at all offended at him,

This is the true Art of Raillery, when a Man turns another into Ridicule, and ſhows at the ſame Time he is in good Humour, and not urg'd on by Malice againſt the Perſon he rallies. Obadiah Greenhat has hit this very well: For to make an Apology to Iſaac Bickerſtaff; an unknown Student and Horary Hiſtorian, as well as Aſtrologer, and with a grave Face to ſay, He ſpeaks of him by the ſame Rules with which he would treat Homer or Plato, is to place him in Company where he can⯑not expect to make a Figure; and makes him flatter himſelf, that it is only being named with them which renders him moſt ridiculous.

I have not known, and I am now paſt my Grand Climacterick, being 64 Years of Age, ac⯑cording to my Way of Life, or rather (if you will allow Punning in an old Gentleman) accor⯑ding to my Way of Paſtime; I ſay, as old as I am, I have not been acquainted with many of the Greenhats. There is indeed one Zedekiah Green⯑hat, who is lucky alſo in his Way. He has a very agreeable Manner; for when he has a Mind [59] throughly to correct a Man, he never takes from him any Thing, but he allows him ſomething for it; or elſe, he blames him for Things wherein he is not defective, as well as for Matters wherein he is. This makes a weak Man believe he is in Jeſt in the whole. T'other Day he told Beau Prim, who is thought impotent, that his Miſtreſs had declared ſhe would not have him, becauſe he was a Sloven, and had committed a Rape. The Beau bit at the Banter, and ſaid very gravely, He thought to be clean was as much as was neceſſary, and that as to the Rape, he wondered by what Witchcraft that ſhould come to her Ears; but it had indeed coſt him an Hundred Pounds to huſh the Affair.

The Greenhats are a Family with ſmall Voices and ſhort Arms, therefore they have Power with none but their Friends: They never call after thoſe who run away from them, or pretend to take hold of you if you reſiſt. But it has been remark⯑able, that all who have ſhunned their Com⯑pany, or not liſtened to them, have fallen into the Hands of ſuch as have knock'd out their own Brains, or broken their Bones. I have looked over our Pedigree upon the Receipt of this Epi⯑ſtle, and find the Greenhats are a-kin to the Staffs. They deſcend from Maudlin, the Left-handed Wife of Nehemiah Bickerſtaff, in the Reign of Harry II. And it is remarkable, that they are all Left-handed, and have always been very expert at Single Rapier. A Man muſt be very much uſed to their Play to know how to defend himſelf; for their Poſture is ſo different from that of the Right handed, that you run upon their Swords if you puſh forward; and they are in with you, if you offer to fall back without keep⯑ing your Guard.

There have been alſo Letters lately ſent to me which relate to other People: Among the reſt, ſome whom I have heretofore declared to be ſo, are deceaſed. I muſt not therefore break thro' [60] Rules ſo far, as to ſpeak ill of the Dead. This Maxim extends to all but the late Partridge, who ſtill denies his Death. I am informed indeed by ſeveral, that he walks; but I ſhall with all con⯑venient Speed lay him.

We hear from Tournay, That on the Night be⯑tween the 22d and 23d, they went on with their Works in the Enemy's Mines, and levelled the Earth which was taken out of them. The next Day, at 8 in the Morning, when the French obſerved we were relieving our Trenches, they ſprung a larger Mine than any they had fired during this Siege, which killed only four private Centinels. The en⯑ſuing Night, we had three Men and two Officers killed, as alſo ſeven Men wounded. Between the 24th and 25th, we repair'd ſome Works which the Enemy had ruin'd. On the next Day, ſome of the Enemy's Magazines blew up; and it is thought they were deſtroy'd on Purpoſe by ſome of their Men, who are impatient of the Hardſhips of the preſent Service. There happened nothing remarkable for two or three Days following. A Deſerter, who came out of the Citadel on the 27th, ſays, the Garriſon is brought to the utmoſt Neceſſi⯑ty; That their Bread and Water are both very bad; and that they were reduced to eat Horſe-Fleſh. The Manner of fighting in this Siege has diſcovered a Gallantry in our Men unknown to former Ages; their meeting with adverſe Parties under Ground, where every Step is taken with Apprehenſions of being blown up with Mines below them, or cruſhed by the Fall of the Earth above them, and all this acted in Dark⯑neſs, has ſomething in it more terrible than ever is met with in any other Part of a Soldier's Duty. However, this is performed with great Chearfulneſs. In other Parts of the War we have alſo good Proſpects: Count Thaun has ta⯑ken [61] Annecy, and the Count de Merci march'd into Franche Compte, while his Electoral Highneſs is much ſuperior in Number to Monſieur d'Harcourt; ſo that both on the Side of Savoy and Germany, we have Reaſon to expect very ſuddenly ſome great Event.

TO proceed regularly in the Hiſtory of my Worthies, I ought to give you an Account of what has paſſed from Day to Day in this Place; but a young Fellow of my Acquaintance has ſo lately been reſcued out of the Hands of the Knights of the Induſtry, that I rather chuſe to relate the Manner of his Eſcape from 'em, and the uncommon Way which was uſed to reclaim him, than to go on in my intended Diary.

You are to know then, that Tom Wildair is a Student of the Inner Temple, and has ſpent his Time, ſince he left the Univerſity for that Place, in the common Diverſions of Men of Faſhion; that is to ſay, in Whoring, Drinking, and Gaming. The Two former Vices he had from his Father; but was led into the laſt by the Converſation of a Partizan of the Mirmidons, who had Chambers near him. His Allowance from his Father was a very plentiful one for a Man of Senſe, but as ſcanty for a modern Fine Gentleman. His fre⯑quent Loſſes had reduced him to ſo neceſſitous a Condition, that his Lodgings were always haunt⯑ed by impatient Creditors, and all his Thoughts employed in contriving low Methods to ſupport himſelf, in a Way of Life from which he knew not how to retreat, and in which he wanted [62] Means to proceed. There is never wanting ſome good-natured Perſon to ſend a Man an Account of what he has no Mind to hear; therefore many Epiſtles were conveyed to the Father of this Ex⯑travagant, to inform him of the Company, the Pleaſures, the Diſtreſſes, and Entertainments, in which his Son paſſed his Time. The old Fellow received theſe Advices with all the Pain of a Pa⯑rent, but frequently conſulted his Pillow to know how to behave himſelf on ſuch important Occaſions, as the Welfare of his Son, and the Safety of his Fortune. After many Agitations of Mind, he reflected, That Neceſſity was the uſual Snare which made Men fall into Meanneſs, and that a liberal Fortune generally made a liberal and honeſt Mind; he reſolved therefore to ſave him from his Ruin, by giving him Opportunities of taſting what it is to be at Eaſe, and encloſed to him the following Order upon Sir Triſtram Caſh:

T [...]. was ſo aſtoniſhed at the Receipt of this Order, that though he knew it to be his Father's Hand, and that he had always large Sums at Sir Triſtram's; yet a Thouſand Pounds was a Truſt of which his Conduct had always made him appear ſo little capable, that he kept his Note by him, till he writ to his Father the fol⯑lowing Letter:

The old Gentleman took no Manner of Notice of the Receipt of his Letter; but ſent him ano⯑ther Order for Three Thouſand Pounds more. His Amazement on this ſecond Letter was un⯑ſpeakable. He immediately double-lock'd his Door, and ſate down carefully to reading and comparing both his Orders. After he had read 'em till he was half mad, he walked Six or Seven Turns in his Chamber, then opens his Door, then locks it again; and to examine throughly this Matter, he locks his Door again, puts his Table and Chairs againſt it; then goes into his Cloſet, and locking himſelf in, read his Notes over again about Nineteen Times, which did but increaſe his Aſtoniſhment. Soon after, he began to recollect many Stories he had for⯑merly heard of Perſons who had been poſſeſſed with Imaginations and Appearances which had no Foundation in Nature, but had been taken with ſudden Madneſs in the Midſt of a ſeeming clear and untainted Reaſon. This made him very gravely conclude he was out of his Wits; and with a Deſign to compoſe himſelf, he immediate⯑ly betakes him to his Night-cap, with a Reſo⯑lution to ſleep himſelf into his former Poverty and Senſes. To Bed therefore he goes at Noon-Day, but ſoon roſe again, and reſolved to viſit Sir Triſtam upon this Occaſion. He did ſo, and dined with the Knight, expecting he would men⯑tion ſome Advice from his Father about paying him Money; but no ſuch Thing being ſaid, Look you, Sir Triſtram, (ſaid he) you are to know, that an Affair has happened, which—Look you, (ſays Triſtram) I know Mr. Wildair, [64] you are going to deſire me to advance; but the late Call of the Bank, where I have not yet made my laſt Payment, has obliged me—Tom interrupted him, by ſhowing him the Bill of a Thouſand Pounds. When he had looked at it for a convenient Time, and as often ſurveyed Tom's Looks and Countenance; Look you, Mr. Wildair, a Thouſand Pounds—Before he could pro⯑ceed, he ſhows him the Order for Three Thou⯑ſand more—Sir Triſtram examined the Or⯑ders at the Light, and finding at the writing the Name, there was a certain Stroke in one Letter, which the Father and he had agreed ſhould be to ſuch Directions as he deſired might be more immediately honoured, he forthwith pays the Money. The Poſſeſſion of Four Thouſand Pounds gave my young Gentleman a new Train of Thoughts: He began to reflect upon his Birth, the great Expectations he was born to, and the unſuitable Ways he had long purſued. Inſtead of that unthinking Creature he was before, he is now provident, generous, and diſcreet. The Father and Son have an exact and regular Cor⯑reſpondence, with mutual and unreſerved Confi⯑dence in each other. The Son looks upon his Father as the beſt Tenant he could have in the Country, and the Father finds the Son the moſt ſafe Banker he could have in the City.

There is not any Thing in Nature ſo extrava⯑gant, but that you will find one Man or other that ſhall practiſe or maintain it; otherwiſe, Harry Spondee could not have made ſo long an Harangue as he did here this Evening, concerning the Force and Efficacy of well-applied Nonſence. Among Ladies, he poſitively averr'd, it was the moſt prevailing Part of Eloquence; and had ſo little Complaiſance as to ſay, a Woman is never taken by her Reaſon, but always by her Paſſion. He proceeded to aſſert, the Way to move that, [65] was only to aſtoniſh her. I know (continued he) a very late Inſtance of this; for being by Accident in the next Room to Strephon, I could not help over-hearing him as he made Love to a certain great Lady's Woman. The true Method in your Application to one of this ſecond Rank of Underſtanding, is not to elevate and ſurprize, but rather to elevate and amaze. Strephon is a perfect Maſter in this Kind of Perſwaſion: His Way is, to run over with a ſoft Air a Multitude of Words, without Meaning or Connexion, but ſuch as do each of 'em apart give a pleaſing Idea, though they have nothing to do with each other as he aſſembles 'em. After the common Phraſes of Salutation, and making his Entry into the Room, I perceived he had taken the fair Nymph's Hand, and kiſſing it, ſaid, Witneſs to my Happineſs ye Groves! Be ſtill ye Rivulets! Oh! Woods, Caves, Fountains, Trees, Dales, Mountains, Hills, and Streams! Oh! Faireſt, Could you love me? To which I over-heard her anſwer, with a very pretty Liſp, Oh! Strephon, You are a dangerous Creature: Why do you talk theſe tender Things to me? But you Men of Wit—Is it then poſſible, ſaid the enamour'd Strephon, that ſhe regards my Sorrows? Oh! Pi⯑ty, thou Balmy Cure to an Heart o'erloaded. If Rapture, Solicitation, ſoft Deſire, and pleaſing Anxiety—But ſtill I live in the moſt afflicting of all Circumſtances, Doubt—Cannot my Charmer name the Place and Moment?

Forgive me, Madam, it is not that my Heart is weary of its Chain, but—This incoherent Stuff was anſwer'd by a tender Sigh, Why do you put your Wit to a week Woman? Strephon ſaw he had made ſome Progreſs in her Heart, [66] and purſued it, by ſaying that he would certain⯑ly wait upon her at ſuch an Hour near Roſamond's Pond; and then—The Sylvian Deities, and Rural Powers of the Place, ſacred and inviola⯑ble to Love; Love, The Mover of all noble Hearts, ſhould hear his Vows repeated by the Streams and Ecchoes. The Aſſignation was ac⯑cordingly made. This Style he calls the unintel⯑ligible Method of ſpeaking his Mind; and I'll en⯑gage, had this Gallant ſpoken plain Engliſh, ſhe had never underſtood him half ſo readily: For we may take it for granted, That he'll be eſteem⯑ed as a very cold Lover, who diſcovers to his Miſtreſs that he is in his Senſes.

The following Letter came to my Hand, with a Requeſt to have the Subject recommended to our Readers, particularly the Smart Fellows, who are deſired to repair to Major Touch-hole, who can help them to Firelocks that are only fit for Ex⯑erciſe.

AMong many Phraſes which have crept into Converſation, eſpecially of ſuch Company as frequent this Place, there is not one which miſleads me more, than that of a Fellow of a great deal of Fire. This Metaphorical Term, Fire, has done much Good in keeping Coxcombs in Awe [68] of one another; but at the ſame Time it has made 'em troubleſome to every Body elſe. You ſee in the very Air of a Fellow of Fire, ſomething ſo ex⯑preſſive of what he would be at, that if it were not for Self-Preſervation, a Man would laugh out.

I had laſt Night the Fate to drink a Bottle with Two of theſe Fire-men, who are indeed diſperſed like the Mirmidons in all Quarters, and to be met with among thoſe of the moſt diffe⯑rent Education. One of my Companions was a Scholar with Fire; the other a Soldier of the ſame Complexion. My learned Man would fall into Diſputes, and argue without any Manner of Provocation or Contradiction: The other was deciſive without Words, and would give a Shrug or an Oath to expreſs his Opinion. My learned Man was a meer Scholar, and my Man of War as meer a Soldier. The Particularity of the Firſt was ridiculous; that of the Second, terrible. They were Relations by Blood, which in ſome Meaſure moderated their Extravagancies to⯑wards each other: I gave my ſelf up meerly as a Perſon of no Note in the Company, but as if brought to be convinced, that I was an incon⯑ſiderable Thing, any otherwiſe than that they would ſhow each other to me, and make me Spectator of the Triumph they alternately en⯑joy'd. The Scholar has been very converſant with Books, and the other with Men only; which makes 'em both ſuperficial: For the Taſte of Books is neceſſary to our Behaviour in the beſt Company, and the Knowledge of Men is required for a true Reliſh of Books: But they have both Fire, which makes one paſs for a Man of Senſe, and the other for a Fine Gentleman. I found I could eaſily enough paſs my Time with the Scholar; for if I ſeem'd not to do Ju⯑ſtice to his Parts and Sentiments, he pitied me, and let me alone. But the Warrior could not let it reſt there; I muſt know all that happen'd [69] within his ſhallow Obſervations of the Nature of the War: To all which he [...]dded, an Air of Lazineſs, and Contempt of thoſe of his Compa⯑nions who were eminent for delighting in the Exerciſe and Knowledge of their Duty. Thus it is, that all the young Fellows of much animal Life, and little Underſtanding, that repair to our Armies, uſurp upon the Converſation of reaſon⯑able Men, under the Notion of having Fire.

The Word has not been of greater Uſe to ſhal⯑low Lovers, to ſupply them with Chat to their Miſtreſſes, than it has been to pretended Men of Pleaſure to ſupport them in being pert and dull, and ſaying of every Fool of their Order, Such a one has Fire. There is Colonel Truncheon, who marches with Diviſions ready on all Occaſions; an Hero who never doubted in his Life, but is ever poſitively fix'd in the Wrong, not out of ob⯑ſtinate Opinion, but invincible Stupidity.

It is very unhappy for this Latitude of London, that it is poſſible for ſuch as can learn only Fa⯑ſhion, Habit, and a Set of common Phraſes of Salutation, to paſs with no other Accompliſh⯑ments, in this Nation of Freedom, for Men of Converſation and Senſe. All theſe ought to pre⯑tend to, is, not to offend; but they carry it ſo far, as to be negligent, whether they offend or not; For they have Fire. But their Force differs from true Spirit, as much as a vicious from a mettleſome Horſe. A Man of Fire is a general Enemy to all the Waiters where you drink, is the only Man affronted at the Company's being neglected, and makes the Drawers abroad, his Valet de Chambre and Footmen at home, know, he is not to be provoked without Danger.

This is not the Fire that animates the noble Mari⯑nus, a Youth of good Nature, Affability, and Mo⯑deration. He commands his Ship, as an Intelli⯑gence moves its Orb: He is the vital Life, and his Officers the Limbs of the Machine. His Vi⯑vacity [70] is ſeen in doing all the Offices of Life with Readineſs of Spirit, and Propriety in the Manner of doing them. To be ever active in laudable Purſuits, is the diſtinguiſhing Chara⯑cter of a Man of Merit; while the Common Be⯑haviour of every gay Coxcomb of Fire is to be confidently in the Wrong, and dare to perſiſt in it.

It is a common Objection againſt Writings of a Satyrical Mixture, that they hurt Men in their Reputations, and conſequently in their Fortunes and Poſſeſſions; but a Gentleman who frequents this Room declared, he was of Opinion it ought to be ſo, provided ſuch Performances had their proper Reſtrictions. The greateſt Evils in hu⯑mane Society are ſuch as no Law can come at; as in the Caſe of Ingratitude, where the Man⯑ner of obliging very often leaves the Benefactor without Means of demanding Juſtice, though that very Circumſtance ſhould be the more bind⯑ing to the Perſon who has received the Benefit. On ſuch an Occaſion, ſhall it be poſſible for the Malefactor to eſcape? And is it not lawful to ſet Marks upon Perſons who live within the Law, and do baſe Things? Shall not we uſe the ſame Protection of thoſe Laws to puniſh them, which they have to defend themſelves? We ſhall there⯑fore take it for a very moral Action to find a good Appellation for Offenders, and to turn them into Ridicule under feigned Names.

I am advertiſed by a Letter of Auguſt the 25th, That the Name of Copperſmith has very much wanted Explanation in the City, and by that Means unjuſtly given, by thoſe who are conſcious they deſerve it themſelves, to an honeſt and worthy Citizen belonging to the Copper-Office; but that Word is framed out of a moral Conſide⯑ration of Wealth amongſt Men, whereby he that has gotten any Part of it by Injuſtice and Extor⯑tion, [71] is to be thought in the Eye of virtuous Men ſo much the poorer for ſuch Gain. Thus all the Gold which is torn from our Neighbours, by making Advantage of their Wants, is Cop⯑per; and I authorize the Lombards to diſtinguiſh themſelves accordingly. All the honeſt, who make a reaſonable Profit, both for the Advantage of themſelves and thoſe they deal with, are Gold⯑ſmiths; but thoſe who tear unjuſtly all they can, Copperſmiths. At the ſame Time I deſire him who is moſt guilty, to ſit down ſatisfied with Riches and Contempt, and be known by the Ti⯑tle of, The Copperſmith; as being the Chief of that reſpected, contemptible Fraternity.

This is the Caſe of all others mentioned in our Lucubrations, particularly of Stentor, who goes on in his Vociferations at St. Paul's with ſo much Obſtinacy, that he has received Admonition from St. Peter's for it from a Perſon of eminent Wit and Piety; but who is by old Age reduced to the Infirmity of ſleeping at a Service, to which he has been Fifty Years attentive, and whoſe Death, whenever it happens, may, with that of the Saints, well be called, Falling aſleep; for the Innocence of his Life makes him expect it as in⯑differently as he does his ordinary Reſt. This gives him a Chearfulneſs of Spirit to rally his own Weakneſs, and hath made him write to Stentor to hearken to my Admonitions. Brother Stentor, (ſaid he) for the Repoſe of the Church, hearken to Bickerſtaff, and conſider, that while you are ſo devout at St. Paul's, we cannot ſleep for you at St. Peter's.

There has been lately ſent me a much harder Queſtion than was ever yet put to me ſince I pro⯑feſſed Aſtrology; to wit, How far, and to what Age, Women ought to make their Beauty their chief Concern? The Regard and Care of their Faces and Perſons are as variouſly to be conſi⯑der'd, [72] as their Complexions themſelves differ; but if one may tranſgreſs againſt the careful Practice of the Fair Sex ſo much as to give an Opinion againſt it, I humbly preſume, that leſs Care, better apply'd, would increaſe their Empire, and make it laſt as long as Life. Whereas now, from their own Example, we take our Eſteem of their Merit from it; for it is very juſt, that ſhe who values her ſelf only on her Beauty, ſhould be re⯑garded by others on no other Conſideration.

There is certainly a liberal and pedantick Edu⯑cation among Women as well as Men, and the Merit laſts accordingly. She therefore that is bred with Freedom, and in good Company, con⯑ſiders Men according to their reſpective Chara⯑cters and Diſtinctions; while ſhe that is lock'd up from ſuch Obſervations, will conſider her Father's Butler not as a Butler, but as a Man. In like Manner, when Men converſe with Women, the Well-bred and Intelligent are looked upon with an Obſervation ſuitable to their different Talents and Accompliſhments, without Reſpect to their Sex; while a meer Woman can be obſerved under no Conſideration but that of a Woman; and there can be but one Reaſon for placing any Value up⯑on her, or loſing Time in her Company. Where⯑fore I am of Opinion, that the Rule for pleaſing long, is, to obtain ſuch Qualifications as would make them ſo were they not Women.

Let the beauteous Cleomira then ſhew us her real Face, and know, that every Stage of Life has its peculiar Charms, and that there is no Neceſſity for Fifty to be Fifteen: That Childiſh colouring of her Cheeks is now as ungraceful, as that Shape would have been when her Face wore its real Countenance. She has Senſe, and ought to know, that if ſhe will not follow Nature, Nature will follow her. Time then has made that Perſon, which had (when I viſited her Grandfather) an agreeable [73] Bloom, ſprightly Air, and ſoft Utterance, now no leſs graceful in a lovely Aſpect, an awful Man⯑ner, and material Wiſdom. But her Heart was ſo ſet upon her firſt Character, that ſhe neglects and repines at her preſent; not that ſhe is againſt a more ſtay'd Conduct in others, for ſhe recom⯑mends Gravity, Circumſpection, and Severity of Countenance, to her Daughter. Thus, againſt all Chronology, the Girl is the Sage, the Mother the Fine Lady.

But theſe great Evils proceed from an unac⯑countable wild Method in the Education of the better half of the World, the Women. We have no ſuch Thing as a Standard for good Breeding. I was the other Day at my Lady Wealthy's, and asked one of her Daughters, How ſhe did? She anſwer'd, She never convers'd with Men. The ſame Day I viſited at Lady Plantwell's, and ask'd her Daughter the ſame Queſtion. She anſwers, What's that to you, you old Thief? And gives me a Slap on the Shoulders.

I defy any Man in England, except he knows the Family before he enters, to be able to iudge whether he ſhall be agreeable or not, when he comes into it. You find either ſome odd old Woman, who is permitted to rule as long as ſhe lives, in Hopes of her Death, and to interrupt all Things; or ſome impertinent young Woman, who will talk ſillily upon the Strength of looking beautifully. I will not anſwer for it, but it may be, that I (like all other old Fellows) have a Fondneſs for the Fa⯑ſhions and Manners which prevailed when I was young and in Faſhion my ſelf: But cer⯑tain it is, that the Taſte of Grace and Beauty is very much lower'd! The Fine Women they ſhow me now-a-days, are at beſt but pretty Girls to me who have ſeen Sachariſſa, when all the World repeated the Poems ſhe inſpir'd, [74] and Villaria, when a youthful King was her Subject. The Things you follow and make Songs on now, ſhould be ſent to knit, or ſit down to Bobbins or Bone-Lace: They are in⯑deed neat, and ſo are their Sempſtreſſes; they are pretty, and ſo are their Handmaids. But that graceful Motion; that awful Mien, and that winning Attraction, which grew upon 'em from the Thoughts and Converſations they met with in my Time, are now no more ſeen. They tell me I am old: I am glad I am ſo; for I don't like your preſent young Ladies.

Thoſe among us who ſet up for any Thing of Decorum, do ſo miſtake the Matter, that they of⯑fend on the other Side. Five young Ladies who are of no ſmall Fame for their great Severity of Manners, and exemplary Behaviour, would lately go no where with their Lovers but to an Organ-Loft in a Church, where they had a Cold Treat, and ſome few Opera Songs, to their great Refreſhment and Edification. Whether theſe prudent Perſons had not been as much ſo, if this had been done at a Tavern, is not very hard to determine. 'Tis ſuch ſilly Starts and Inco⯑herences as theſe which undervalue the beau⯑teous Sex, and puzzle us in our Choice of Sweetneſs of Temper and Simplicity of Man⯑ners, which are the only laſting Charms of Wo⯑man. But I muſt leave this important Subject at preſent, for ſome Matters which preſs for Publication; as you will obſerve in the following Letter:

THIS Place being frequented by Perſons of Condition, I am deſired to recommend a Dog-kennel to any who ſhall want a Pack. It lies not far from Suffolk-ſtreet, and is kept by Two who were formerly Dragoons in the French Service; but left Plundering for the more order⯑ly Life of keeping Dogs: Beſides that, according to their Expectation, they find it more profitable, as well as more conducing to the Safety of their Skin, to follow this Trade, than the Beat of Drum. Their Reſidence is very convenient for the Dogs to whelp in, and bring up a right Breed to follow the Scent. The moſt eminent of the Kennel are Blood-hounds, which lead the Van, and are as follow:

• Jowler, of a right Iriſh Breed, called Captain.
• Rockwood, of French Race, with long Hair, by the Courteſy of England called alſo Cap⯑tain.
• Pompey, a tall Hound, kennelled in a Convent in France, and knows a rich Soil.

Theſe Two laſt hunt in Couple, and are fol⯑lowed by,

• Ringwood, a French black Whelp of the ſame Breed, a fine open-mouth'd Dog; and an old ſick Hound, always in Kennel; but of the true Blood, with a good Noſe, French Breed.
• [77] There is alſo an Italian Greyhound, with good Legs, and knows perfectly the Ground from Ghent to Paris.
• Ten Setting-Dogs, right Engliſh.
• Four Mongrels, of the ſame Nation.
• And Twenty Whelps, fit for any Game.

Theſe Curs are ſo extremely hungry, that they are too keen at the Sport, and worry their Game before the Keepers can come in. The other Day a Wild-Boar from the North ruſhed into the Kennel, and at firſt indeed defended himſelf a⯑gainſt the whole Pack; but they proved at laſt too many for him, and tore 25 Pounds of Fleſh from off his Back, with which they filled their Bellies, and made ſo great a Noiſe in the Neigh⯑bourhood, that the Keepers are obliged to haſten the Sale. That Quarter of the Town where they are kennell'd is generally inhabited by Strangers, whoſe Blood the Hounds have often ſucked in ſuch a Manner, that many a German Count, and other Virtuoſi, who came from the Continent, have loſt the Intention of their Travels, and been unable to proceed on their Journey.

If theſe Hounds are not very ſoon diſpoſed of to ſome good Purchaſer, as alſo thoſe at the Ken⯑nels nearer St. James's, it is humbly propoſed, that they may be altogether tranſported to America, where the Dogs are few, and the Wild-Beaſts many. Or, that during their Stay in theſe Parts, ſome eminent Juſtice of the Peace may have it in particular Direction to viſit their Harbours; and that the Sheriff of Middleſex may allow him the Aſſiſtance of the Common Hang⯑man to cut off their Ears, or Part of them, for Diſtinction-ſake, that we may know the Blood⯑hounds from the Mongrels and Setters. Till theſe Things are regulated, you may inquire at an Houſe belonging to Paris at the upper End of Suffolk-Street, or an Houſe belonging to Ghent, [78] oppoſite to the lower End of Pull-Mall, and know further.

It were to be wiſhed that theſe Curs were diſ⯑poſed of; for it is a very great Nuſance to have them tolerated in Cities. That of London takes Care, that the Common Hunt, aſſiſted by the Sergeants and Bailiffs, expel them wherever they are found within the Walls; though 'tis ſaid, ſome private Families keep them, to the Deſtru⯑ction of their Neighbours: But it is deſired, that all who know of any of theſe Curs, or have been bit by them, would ſend me their Marks, and the Houſes where they are harboured, and I do not doubt but I ſhall alarm the People ſo well, as to have them uſed like mad Dogs where⯑ever they appear. In the mean Time, I adviſe all ſuch as entertain this kind of Vermin, that if they give me timely Notice that their Dogs are diſmiſſed, I ſhall let them go unregarded, otherwiſe am obliged to admoniſh my Fellow. Subjects in this Behalf, and inſtruct them how to avoid being worried, when they are going about their lawful Profeſſions and Callings. There was lately a young Gentleman bit to the Bone; who has now indeed recovered his Health, but is as lean as a Skeleton. It grieved my Heart to ſee a Gentleman's Son run among the Hounds; but he is, they tell me, as fleet and as dangerous as the beſt of the Pack.

This Evening was ſpent at our Table in Diſ⯑courſe of Propriety of Words and Thoughts, which is Mr. Dryden's Definition of Wit; but a very odd Fellow, who would intrude upon us, and has a Briskneſs of Imagination more like Mad⯑neſs than regular Thought, ſaid, that Harry Jacks was the firſt who told him of the taking of the Citadel of Tournay, and (ſays he) Harry de⯑ſerves a Statue more than the Boy who ran to the Senate with a Thorn in his Foot to tell of a [79] Victory. We were aſtoniſh'd at the Aſſertion, and Spondee asked him. What Affinity is there be⯑tween that Boy and Harry, that you ſay then Merit reſembles ſo much as you juſt now told us? Why, (ſays he) Harry you know is in the French Intereſt, and it was more Pain to him to tell the Story of Tournay, than to the Boy to run upon a Thorn to relate a Victory which he was glad of. The Gentleman who was in the Chair upon the Subject of Propriety of Words and Thoughts, would by no Means allow, that there was Wit in this Compariſon; and urged, that to have any Thing gracefully ſaid, it muſt be natural; but that whatſoever was introduced in common Diſcourſe with ſo much Premedita⯑tion, was inſufferable. That Critick went on: Had Mr. Jacks (ſaid he) told him the Citadel was taken, and another had anſwer'd, He de⯑ſerves a Statue as well as the Roman Boy, for he told it with as much Pain; it might have paſ⯑ſed for a ſprightly Expreſſion: But there is a Wit for Diſcourſe, and a Wit for Writing. The Eaſineſs and Familiarity of the firſt, is not to ſa⯑vour in the leaſt of Study; but the Exactneſs of the other, is to admit of ſomething like the Freedom of Diſcourſe, eſpecially in Treatiſes of Humanity, and what regards the Belles Lettres. I do not in this allow, that Bickerſtaff's Tatlers, or Diſcourſes of Wit by Retail, and for the Penny, ſhould come within the Deſcription of Writing. I bowed at his Compliment, and—But he would not let me proceed.

You ſee in no Place of Converſation the Perfection of Speech ſo much as in an accompliſhed Woman. Whether it be, that there is a Partiality irreſiſtible when we judge of that Sex, or whatever it is you may obſerve a wonderful Freedom in their Utterance, and an eaſy Flow of Words, with⯑out being diſtracted (as we often are who read, much) in the Choice of Dictions and Phraſes. [80] My Lady Courtly is an Inſtance of this: She was talking the other Day of Dreſs, and did it with ſo excellent an Air and Geſture, that you would have ſworn ſhe had learned her Action from our Demoſthenes. Beſides which, her Words were ſo particularly well adapted to the Matter ſhe talked of, that tho' Dreſs was a new Thing to us Men, ſhe avoided the Terms of Art in it, and deſcribed an unaffected Garb and Manner in ſo proper Terms, that ſhe came up to that Horace's Simplex Munditiis; which, whoever can tranſlate in Two Words, has as much Eloquence as Lady Courtly. I took the Liberty to tell her, That all ſhe had ſaid with ſo much good Grace, was ſpoken in Two Words in Horace, but would not undertake to tranſlate them; upon which ſhe ſmiled, and told me, She believed me a very great Scholar, and I took my Leave.

I have been juſt now reading the Introduction to the Hiſtory of Catiliue by Salluſt, an Author who is very much in my Favour; but when I re⯑flect upon his profeſſing himſelf wholly diſinte⯑reſted, and at the ſame Time ſee how induſtri⯑ouſly he has avoided ſaying any Thing to the Praiſe of Cicero, to whoſe Vigilance the Com⯑monwealth owed its Safety, it very much leſſens my Eſteem for that Writer; and is one Argument among others, for laughing at all who pretend to be out of the Intereſts of the World, and pro⯑feſs purely to act for the Service of Mankind, without the leaſt Regard to themſelves. I do not deny but that the Rewards are different; ſome aim at Riches, others at Honour, by their publick Services. However, they are all pur⯑ſuing ſome End to themſelves, though indeed thoſe Ends differ as much as Right and Wrong. The moſt graceful Way then, I ſhould think, would be to acknowledge, that you aim at ſer⯑ving your ſelves; but at the ſame Time make it [81] appear, it is for the Service of others that you have theſe Opportunities.

Of all the diſintereſted Profeſſors I have ever heard of, I take the Boatſwain of Dampier's Ship to be the moſt impudent, but the muſt excuſable. You are to know, that in the wild Searches that Navigator was making, they happen'd to be out at Sea, far diſtant from any Shore, in Want of all the Neceſſaries of Life; inſomuch, that they be⯑gan to look, not without Hunger, on each other. The Boatſwain was a fat, healthy, freſh Fellow, and attracted the Eyes of the whole Crew. In ſuch an extreme Neceſſity, all Forms of Superio⯑rity were laid aſide: The Captain and Lieute⯑nant were ſafe only by being Carrion, and the unhappy Boatſwain in Danger only by being worth eating. To be ſhort, the Company were unani⯑mous, and the Boatſwain muſt be cut up. He ſaw their Intention, and deſired he might ſpeak a few Words before they proceeded; which being permitted, he delivered himſelf as follows:

This Speech had a good Effect in the Boatſwain's Favour; but the Surgeon of the Ship proteſted, he had cured him very well, and offered to eat the firſt Stake of him himſelf.

[82] The Boatſwain replied, (like an Orator, with a true Notion of the People, and in Hopes to gain Time) That he was heartily glad if he could be for their Service, and thanked the Sur⯑geon for his Information. However, ſaid he, I muſt inform you, for your own Good, that I have ever ſince my Cure been very thirſty and dropſical; therefore I preſume it would be much better to tap me and drink me off, than eat me at once, and have no Man in the Ship fit to be drank. As he was going on with his Harangue, a freſh Gale aroſe, and gave the Crew Hopes of a better Repaſt at the neareſt Shore, to which they arrived next Morning.

Moſt of the Self-Denials we meet with are of this Sort; therefore I think he acts faireſt who owns, he hopes at leaſt to have Brother's Fare, without profeſſing that he gives himſelf up with Pleaſure to be devoured for the Preſervation of his Fellows.

Letters from the Hague of the 6th of Septem⯑ber, N. S. ſay, That the Governor of the Cita⯑del of Tournay having offered their Highneſſes the Duke of Marlborough and the Prince of Sa⯑voy to ſurrender that Place on the 31ſt of the laſt Month, on Terms which were not allowed them by thoſe Princes, Hoſtilities were there⯑upon renewed; but that on the 3d the Place was ſurrendered, with a ſeeming Condition grant⯑ed to the Beſieged above that of being Priſo⯑ners of War; for they were forthwith to be conducted to Condé, but were to be exchanged for Priſoners of the Allies, and particularly thoſe of Warniton were mentioned in the Demand. Both Armies having ſtretched towards Mons with the utmoſt Diligence, that of the Allies, though they paſſed the much more difficult Road, arrived firſt before that Town, which they have now actually inveſted; and the Quarter⯑maſter-General [83] was, at the Time of Diſpatching theſe Letters, marking the Ground for the En⯑campment of the covering Army.

Of the Enjoyment of Life with Regard to others.

I Have ever thought it the greateſt Diminution to the Roman Glory imaginable, that in their Inſtitution of Publick Triumphs, they led their Enemies in Chains when they were Priſoners. It is to be allowed, that doing all Honour to the Superiority of Heroes above the reſt of Man⯑kind, muſt needs conduce to the Glory and Ad⯑vantage of a Nation; but what ſhocks the Imagination to reflect upon, is, that a polite People ſhould think it reaſonable, that an un⯑happy Man, who was no Way inferior to the Victor but by the Chance of War, ſhould be led like a Slave at the Wheels of his Cha⯑riot. Indeed, theſe other Circumſtances of a Triumph, That it was not allowed in a Ci⯑vil War, leſt Part of it ſhould be in Tears, while the other was making Acclamations; That it ſhould not be granted, except ſuch a Number were ſlain in Battle; That the Ge⯑neral ſhould be diſgraced who made a falſe Muſter of his Dead: Theſe, I ſay, had great and politick Ends in their being eſtabliſh'd, and ten⯑ded to the apparent Benefit of the Common⯑wealth. But this Behaviour to the Conquered [85] had no Foundation in Nature or Policy, only to gratify the Inſolence of an haughty People, who triumphed over barbarous Nations, by acting what was fit only for thoſe very Barbarians to practiſe. It ſeems wonderful, that they who were ſo refined as to take Care, that to compleat the Honour done to the victorious Officer, no Power ſhould be known above him in the Em⯑pire on the Day of his Triumph, but that the Conſuls themſelves ſhould be but Gueſts at his Table that Evening, could not take it into Thought to make the Man of chief Note among his Pri⯑ſoners one of the Company. This would have improved the Gladneſs of the Occaſion, and the Victor had made a much greater Figure, in that no other Man appeared unhappy on his Day, than becauſe no other Man appeared great.

But we will wave at preſent ſuch important In⯑cidents, and turn our Thoughts rather to the familiar Part of humane Life, and we ſhall find, that the great Buſineſs we contend for, is in a leſs Degree what thoſe Romans did on more ſolemn Occaſions, to triumph over our Fellow, Creatures; and there is hardly a Man to be found, who would not rather be in Pain to appear happy, than be really happy and thought miſe⯑rable. This Men attempt by ſumptuous Equi⯑pages, ſplendid Houſes, numerous Servants, and all the Cares and Purſuits of an ambitious or fa⯑ſhionable Life.

Bromeo and Tabio are particularly Ill-wiſhers to each other, and Rivals in Happineſs. There is no Way in Nature ſo good to procure the Eſteem of the one, as to give him little Notices of certain ſecret Points wherein the other is uneaſy. Gnath [...] has the Skill of doing this, and never applauds the Improvements Bromeo has been many Years ma⯑king, and ever will be making; but he adds, ‘'Now this very Thing was my Thought when Tabio was pulling up his Underwood, yet he never would [86] hear of it; but now your Gardens are in this Poſture, he is ready to hand himſelf. Well, to be ſincere, that Situation of his can never make an agreeable Seat: He may make his Houſe and Appurtenances what he pleaſes; but he cannot remove them to the ſame Ground where Bromeo ſtands; and of all Things under the Sun, a Man that is happy at Second-hand is the moſt monſtrous."’ 'Tis a very ſtrange Madneſs (anſwers Bromeo) if a Man on theſe Occaſions can think of any End but pleaſing himſelf. As for my Part, if Things are convenient, I hate all Oſtentation: There is no End of the Folly of adapting our Affairs to the Imagination of others. Upon which, the next Thing he does, is to en⯑large whatever he hears his Rival has attempted to imitate him in; but their Misfortune is, that they are in their Time of Life, in their Eſtates, and in their Underſtandings equal; ſo that the Emulation may continue to the laſt Day of their Lives. As it ſtands now, Tabio has heard Bromeo has lately purchaſed Two Hundred a Year in the Annuities ſince he has ſettled the Account of their Happineſs, in which he thought himſelf to have the Ballance. This may ſeem a very fantaſtical Way of Thinking in theſe Men; but there is nothing ſo common, as a Man's endea⯑vouring rather to go further than ſome other Perſon towards an eaſy Fortune, than to form any certain Standard that would make himſelf happy.

Mr. Dactile has been this Evening very profuſe of his Eloquence upon the Talent of turning Things into Ridicule; and ſeemed to ſay very juſtly. That there was generally in it ſomething too diſingenuous for the Society of liberal Men, except it were governed by the Circumſtances of Perſons, Time, and Place. This Talent, con⯑tinued [87] he, is to be uſed as a Man does his Sword, not to be drawn but in his own Defence, or to bring Pretenders and Impoſtors in Society to a true Light. But we have ſeen this Faculty ſo miſtaken, that the Burleſque of Virgil himſelf has paſſed, among Men of little Taſt, for Wit; and the nobleſt Thoughts that can enter into the Heart of Man, levelled with Ribaldry and Bafe⯑neſs: Though by the Rules of Juſtice, no Man ought to be ridiculed for any Imperfection, who does not ſet up for eminent Sufficiency in that Way wherein he is defective. Thus Cowards, who would hide themſelves by an affected Ter⯑ror in their Mien and Dreſs; and Pedants, who would ſhow the Depth of their Knowledge by a ſupercilious Gravity, are equally the Objects of Laughter. Not that they are in themſelves ridiculous for their Want of Courage, or Weak⯑neſs of Underſtanding, but that they ſeem inſen⯑ſible of their own Place in Life, and unhappily rank themſelves with thoſe, whoſe Abilities, com⯑pared to their Defects, make them contemptible.

At the ſame Time, it muſt be remarked, That Riſibility being the Effect of Reaſon, a Man ought to be expelled from ſober Company who laughs without it. Ha! ha! ſays Will. Truby, who ſat by, Will any Man pretend to give me Laws when I ſhould laugh, or tell me what I ſhould laugh at? Look ye, anſwer'd Humphrey Slyboots, you are mightily miſtaken; you may, if you pleaſe, make what Noiſe you will, and no Body can hinder an Engliſh Gentleman from put⯑ting his Face into what Poſture he thinks fit; but, take my Word for it, that Motion which you now make with your Mouth open, and the Agitation of your Stomach, which you re⯑lieve by holding your Sides, is not Laughter: Laughter is a more weighty Thing than you imagine; and I'll tell you a Secret, You ne⯑ver did laugh in your Life; and truly. I am [88] afraid you never will, except you take great Care to be cured of thoſe Convulſive Fits. Truby left us, and when he had got Two Yards from us, Well (ſaid he) you are ſtrange Fellows, and was immediately taken with another Fit.

The Trubies are a well-natured Family, whoſe particular Make is ſuch, that they have the ſame Pleaſure out of good Will, which other People have in that Scorn which is the Cauſe of Laugh⯑ter: Therefore their burſting into the Figures of Men, when laughing, proceeds only from a ge⯑neral Benevolence they are born with; as the Sly⯑boots ſmile only on the greateſt Occaſion of Mirth; which Difference is cauſed rather from a different Structure of their Organs, than that one is leſs moved than the other. I know Sowerly frets in⯑wardly when Will. Truby laughs at him; but when I meet him, and he burſts out, I know 'tis out of his abundant Joy to ſee me, which he ex⯑preſſes by that Vociferation which is in others Laughter. But I ſhall defer conſidering this Sub⯑ject at large, till I come to my Treatiſe of Oſci⯑tation, Laughter, and Ridicule.

The following Letter being a Panegyrick upon me for a Quality which every Man may attain, an Acknowledgment of his Faults; I thought it for the Good of my Fellow-Writers to publiſh it.

This Day we have received Advices by the Way of Oſtend, which give an Account of an En⯑gagement between the French and the Allies on the 11th Inſtant, N. S. Marſhal Boufflers arri⯑ved in the Enemy's Camp on the 5th, and ac⯑quainted Marſhal Villars, That he did not come in any Character, but to receive his Commands for the King's Service, and communicate to him his Orders upon the preſent Poſture of Affairs. On the 9th, both Armies advanced to⯑wards each other, and cannonaded all the enſuing Day till the Cloſe of the Evening, and ſtood on their Arms all that Night. On the Day of Battle, the Cannonading was renewed a⯑bout Seven: The Duke of Argyle had Or⯑ders to attack the Wood Saar on the Right, which he executed ſo ſucceſsfully, that he pierced through it, and won a conſiderable Poſt. The Prince of Orange had the ſame good Fortune in a Wood on the Left: After which, the whole [91] Body of the Confederates, join'd by the Forces from the Siege, marched up and engaged the Enemy, who were drawn up at ſome Diſtance from theſe Woods. The Diſpute was very warm for ſome Time; but towards Noon the French began to give Ground from one Wing to the other: Which Advantage being obſerved by our Generals, the whole Army was urged on with freſh Vigour, and in a few Hours the Day ended with the entire Defeat of the Enemy.

WHen I lately ſpoke of Triumphs, and the Behaviour of the Romans on thoſe Occa⯑ſions, I knew by my Skill in Aſtrology, that there was a great Event approaching to our Ad⯑vantage; but not having yet taken upon me to tell Fortunes, I thought fit to defer the Mention of the Battle near Mons till it happened; which Moderation was no ſmall Pain to me: But I ſhould wrong my Art, if I conceal'd that ſome of my Aerial Intelligencers had ſignified to me the News of it ev'n from Paris, before the Arri⯑val of Lieutenant-Colonel Graham in England. All Nations, as well as Perſons, have their good and evil Genius attending 'em; but the King⯑dom of France has Three, the laſt of which is neither for it nor againſt it in Reality, but has for ſome Months paſt acted an ambiguous Part, and attempted to ſave its Ward from the Incur⯑ſion of its powerful Enemies, by little Subter⯑fuges, [92] and Tricks, which a Nation is more than undone when it is reduced to Practice. Thus, inſtead of giving exact Accounts and Repreſenta⯑tions of Things, they tell what is indeed true, but at the ſame Time a Falſhood when all the Circumſtances come to be related. Pacolet was at the Court of France on Friday Night laſt, when this Genius of that Kingdom came thither in the Shape of a Poſt-Boy, and cried out, That Mons was relieved, and the Duke of Marlborough marched. Pacolet was much aſtoniſhed at this Account, and immediately changed his Form, and flew to the Neighbourhood of Mons, from whence he found the Allies had really marched, and began to enquire into the Reaſons of this ſudden Change, and half feared he had heard a Truth of the Poſture of the French Affairs, even in their own Country. But upon diligent En⯑quiry among the Aerials who attend theſe Regi⯑ons, and Conſultation with the neighbouring Pea⯑ſants, he was able to bring me the following Ac⯑count of the Motions of the Armies ſince they retired from about that Place, and the Action which followed thereupon.

On Saturday the 7th of September, N. S. The Confederate Army was alarm'd in their Camp at Havre, by Intelligence, That the Enemy were marching to attack the Prince of Heſſe. Upon this Advice, the Duke of Marlborough command⯑ed that the Troops ſhould immediately move, which was accordingly performed, and they were all join'd on Sunday the Eighth at Noon. On that Day in the Morning it appeared, that in⯑ſtead of being attack'd, the advanced Guard of the Detachment commanded by the Prince of Heſſe had diſperſed and taken Priſoners a Party of the Enemy's Horſe, which was ſent out to obſerve the March of the Confederates. The French moved from Quiverain on Sunday in the Morning and inclined to the Right from thence [93] all that Day. The 9th, the Monday following, they continued their March till on Tueſday the Tenth they poſſeſs'd themſelves of the Woods of Dour and Blaugies. As ſoon as they came into that Ground, they threw up Intrenchments with all Expedition. The Allies arrived within few Hours after the Enemy was poſted; but the Duke of Marlborough thought fit to wait for the Arrival of the Reinforcement which he expected from the Siege of Tournay. Upon Notice that theſe Troops were ſo far advanced, as to be de⯑pended on for an Action the next Day, it was ac⯑cordingly reſolv'd to engage the Enemy.

It will be neceſſary for underſtanding the Great⯑neſs of the Action, and the ſeveral Motions made in the Time of the Engagement, that you have in your Mind an Idea of the Place. The Two Armies on the 11th Inſtant were both drawn up before the Woods of Dour, Blangies, Sart and Janſart; the Army of the Prince of Savoy on the Right before that of Blangies; the Forces of Groat Britain in the Center on his Left; thoſe of the High Allies, with the Wood Sart, as well as a large Interval of plain Ground, and Janſart, on the Left of the Whole. The Enemy were in⯑trenched in the Paths of the Woods, and drawn up behind Two Intrenchments over-againſt them, oppoſite to the Armies of the Duke of Marlbo⯑rough and Prince Eugene. There were alſo, Two Lines intrenched in the Plains over-againſt the Ar⯑my of the States. This was the Poſture of the French and Confederate Forces when the Signal was given and the whole Line moved on to the Charge.

The Dutch Army, commanded by the Prince of Heſſe, attack'd with the moſt undaunted Bra⯑very; and after a very obſtinate Reſiſtance, for⯑ced the firſt Intrenchment of the Enemy in the Plain between Sart and Janſart; but were repulſed in their Attack on the Second with great Slaughter on both Sides. The Duke of [94] Marlborough, while this was tranfacting on the Left, had with very much Difficulty marched through Sart, and beaten the Enemy from the ſeveral Intrenchments they had thrown up in it. As ſoon as the Duke had marched into the Plain, he obſerved the main Body of the Enemy drawn up and intrenched in the Front of his Army. This Situation of the Enemy, in the ordinary Courſe of War, is uſually thought an Advantage hardly to be ſurmounted; and might appear im⯑practicable to any, but that Army which had juſt overcome greater Difficulties. The Duke com⯑manded the Troops to form, but to forbear charg⯑ing till further Order. In the mean Time he vi⯑ſited the Left of our Line, where the Troops of the States had been engaged. The Slaughter on this Side had been very great, and the Dutch incapable of making further Progreſs, except they were ſuddenly reinforced. The Right of our Line was attacked ſoon after their coming upon the Plain; but they drove back the Enemy with ſuch Bravery, that the Victory began to in⯑cline to the Allies by the precipitate Retreat of the French to their Works, from whence they were immediately beaten. The Duke, upon ob⯑ſerving this Advantage on the Right, commanded the Earl of Orkney to march with a ſufficient Number of Battalions to force the Enemy from their Intrenchments on the Plain between the Woods of Sart and Janſart; which being per⯑formed, the Horſe of the Allies marched into the Plains, covered by their own Foot, and form⯑ing themſelves in good Order, the Cavalry of the Enemy attempted no more, but to cover the Foot in their Retreat. The Allies made ſo good Uſe of the beginning of the Victory, that all their Troops moved on with freſh Reſolution, till they ſaw the Enemy fly before them towards Condé and Maubeuge; after whom proper Detach⯑ments were made, who made a terrible Slaughter in the Purſuit.

[95] In this Action it is ſaid Prince Eugene was wound⯑ed, as alſo the Duke of Aremberg, and Lieutenant-General Webb. The Count of Oxenſtern, Colo⯑nel Lalo, and Sir Thomas Pendergraſs were kill'd.

This wonderful Succeſs, obtain'd under all the Difficulties that could be oppoſed in the Way of an Army, muſt be acknowledged as owing to the Genius, Courage and Conduct of the Duke of Marlborough, a Conſummate Hero; who has lived not only beyond the Time in which Caeſar ſaid, He was arrived at a Satiety of Life and Glory; but alſo been ſo long the Subject of Panegyrick, that it is as hard to ſay any Thing new in his Praiſe, as to add to the Merit which requires ſuch Eulogiums.

The following Letter being very explanatory of the true Deſign of our Lucubrations, and at the ſame Time an excellent Model for perform⯑ing it, it is abſolutely neceſſary, for the better underſtanding our Works, to publiſh it.

I Came hither this Evening, and expected no⯑thing elſe but mutual Congratulations in the Company on the late Victory; but found our Room, which one would have hoped to have ſeen full of good Humour and Alacrity upon ſo glorious an Occaſion, full of ſowr Animals, en⯑quiring into the Action, in Doubt of what had happened, and fearful of the Succeſs of their Coun⯑try-Men. It is natural to believe eaſily what we wiſh heartily; and a certain Rule, That they are not Friends to a glad Occaſion, who ſpeak all they can againſt the Truth of it; who end their Argument againſt our Happineſs, that they wiſh it otherwiſe. When I came into the Room, a Gentleman was declaiming; If (ſays he) we have ſo great and compleat a Victory, Why have we not the Names of the Priſoners? Why is not an exact Relation of the Conduct of our Generals laid be⯑fore the World? Why do we not know where or whom to applaud? If we are victorious, Why do we not give an Account of our Captives and our Slain? But we are to be ſatisfy'd with gene⯑ral Notices we are Conquerors, and to believe it ſo. Sure this is approving the deſpotick Way of treating the World, which we pretend to ſight againſt, if we ſit down ſatisfied with ſuch contradictory Accounts, which have the Words of Triumph, but do not bear the Spirit of it. I whiſpered Mr. Greenhat, Pray what can that diſ⯑ſatisfied [98] Man be? He is, anſwered he, a Chara⯑cter you have not yet perhaps obſerved. You have heard of Battle-Painters, have mentioned a Battle-Poet; but this is a Battle-Critick. He is a Fellow that lives in a Government ſo gentle, that tho' it ſees him an Enemy, ſuffers his Malice becauſe they know his Impotence. He is to exa⯑mine the Weight of an Advantage before the Company will allow it. Greenhat was going on in his Explanation, when Sir George England thought fit to take up the Diſcourſe in the fol⯑lowing Manner:

Gentlemen, The Action you are in ſo great Doubt to approve of, is greater than ever has been performed in any Age; and the Value of it I ob⯑ſerve from your Diſſatisfaction: For Battle-Criticks are like all others; you are the more of⯑fended, the more you ought to be, and are con⯑vinced you ought to be pleaſed. Had this En⯑gagement happened in the Time of the Old Ro⯑mans, and ſuch Things been acted in their Ser⯑vice, there would not be a Foot of the Wood which was pierced but had been conſecrated to ſome Deity, or made memorable by the Death of him who expired in it for the Sake of his Coun⯑try. It had been ſaid on ſome Monument at the Entrance, Here the Duke of Argyle drew his Sword, and ſaid, March. Here Webb, after ha⯑ving an accompliſh'd Fame for Gallantry, expos'd himſelf like a common Soldier. Here Rivett, who was wounded at the Beginning of the Day, and carried off as dead, returned to the Field, and received his Death. Medals had been ſtruck for our General's Behaviour when he firſt came into the Plain. Here was the Fury of the Action, and here the Hero ſtood as fearleſs as if invul⯑nerable. Such certainly had been the Cares of that State for their own Honour, and in Grati⯑tude to their Heroick Subjects. But the Wood entrenched, the Plain made more impaſſable than [99] the Wood, and all the Difficulties oppoſed to the moſt gallant Army, and moſt intrepid Leaders that ever the Sun ſhone upon, are treated by the Talk of ſome in this Room as Objections to the Merit of our General and our Army: But (conti⯑nued he) I leave all the Examination of this Mat⯑ter, and a proper Diſcourſe on our Senſe of pub⯑lick Actions, to my Friend Mr. Bickerſtaff, who may let Beaus and Gameſters reſt, till he has exa⯑mined into the Reaſons of Men's being Male⯑contents, in the only Nation that ſuffers profeſs'd Enemies to breath in open Air.

The following Letters are ſent to me from Re⯑lations; and tho' I do not know who and who are intended, I publiſh them. I have only writ Nonſence if there is nothing in them; and done a good Action if they alarm any heedleſs Men againſt the Fraternity of the Knights whom the Greeks call [...].

THE Subject of the Diſcourſe this Evening was Eloquence and graceful Action. Lyſan⯑der, who is ſomething particular in his Way of Thinking and Speaking, told us, a Man could not be Eloquent without Action: For the Deportment of the Body, the Turn of the Eye, and an apt Sound to every Word that is utter'd, muſt all conſpire to make an accompliſh'd Speaker. Action in one that ſpeaks in publick, is the ſame Thing as a good Mien in ordinary Life. Thus, as a certain Inſenſibility in the Countenance re⯑commends a Sentence of Humour and Jeſt, ſo it muſt be a very lively Conſciouſneſs that gives Grace to great Sentiments. The Jeſt is to be a Thing unexpected; therefore your undeſigning Manner is a Beauty in Expreſſions of Mirth; but when you are to talk on a Set Subject, the more you are moved your ſelf, the more you will move others.

There is, ſaid he, a remarkable Example of that Kind. Aeſchines, a famous Orator of Antiquity, had pleaded at Athens in a great Cauſe againſt Demoſthenes; but having loſt it, retired to Rhodes. Eloquence was then the Quality moſt admired among Men; and the Magiſtrates of that Place having heard he had a Copy of the Speech of De⯑moſthenes, deſired him to repeat both their Plead⯑ings. After his own, he recited alſo the Oration of his Antagoniſt. The People expreſſed their Admi⯑ration of both, but more of that of Demoſthenes. If you are, ſaid he, thus touched with hearing only [104] what that great Orator ſaid, How would you have been affected, had you ſeen him ſpeak? For he who hears Demoſthenes only, loſes much the better Part of the Oration. Certain it is, that they who ſpeak gracefully, are very lamely re⯑preſented in having their Speeches read or repeat⯑ed by unskilful People; for there is ſomething native to each Man, ſo inherent to his Thoughts and Sentiments, which it is hardly poſſible for another to give a true Idea of. You may obſerve in common Talk, when a Sentence of any Mans is repeated, an Acquaintance of his ſhall imme⯑diately obſerve, That is ſo like him, methinks I ſee how he look'd when he ſaid it.

But of all the People on the Earth, there are none who puzzle me ſo much as the Clergy of Great Britain, who are, I believe, the moſt lear⯑ned Body of Men now in the World; and yet this Art of Speaking, with the proper Ornaments of Voice and Geſture, is wholly neglected among them; and I'll engage, were a deaf Man to behold the greater Part of them preach, he would rather think they were reading the Contents only of ſome Diſcourſe they intended to make, than actually in the Body of an Oration, even when they are upon Matters of ſuch a Nature as one would believe it were impoſſible to think of without Emotion.

I own there are Exceptions to this general Obſervation, and that the Dean we heard the other Day together, is an Orator. He has ſo much Regard to his Congregation, that he com⯑mits to his Memory what he is to ſay to them; and has ſo ſoft and graceful a Behaviour, that it muſt attract your Attention. His Perſon it is to be confeſſed is no ſmall Recommendation; but he is to be highly commended for not loſing that Advantage, and adding to the Propriety of Speech (which might paſs the Criticiſm of Longinus) an Action which would have been approved by De⯑moſthenes. He has a peculiar Force in his Way, [105] and has many of his Audience who could not be intelligent Hearers of his Diſcourſe, were there not Explanation as well as Grace in his Action. This Art of his is uſed with the moſt exact and honeſt Skill: He never attempts your Paſſions, 'till he has convinced your Reaſon. All the Ob⯑jections which he can form, are laid open and diſperſed, before he uſes the leaſt Vehemence in his Sermon; but when he thinks he has your Head, he very ſoon wins your Heart; and never pretends to ſhow the Beauty of Holineſs, 'till he hath convinced you of the Truth of it.

Would every one of our Clergymen be thus careful to recommend Truth and Virtue in their proper Figures, and ſhow ſo much Concern for them as to give them all the additional Force they were able, it is not poſſible that Nonſence ſhould have ſo many Hearers as you find it has in Diſ⯑ſenting Congregations, for no Reaſon in the World but becauſe it is ſpoken Extempore: For ordinary Minds are wholly governed by their Eyes and Ears, and there is no Way to come at their Hearts but by Power over their Imaginations.

There is my Friend and merry Companion Da⯑niel: He knows a great deal better than he ſpeaks, and can form a proper Diſcourſe as well as any Orthodox Neighbour. But he knows very well, that to bawl out, My Beloved; and the Words, Grace! Regeneration! Sanctification! A New Light! The Day! The Day! Ay, my Beloved, the Day! Or rather, The Night! The Night is coming! And Judgment will come, when we leaſt think of it! And ſo forth—He knows, to be vehement is the only Way to come at his Audience. Daniel, when he ſees my Friend Greenhat come in, can give him a good Hint, and cry out, This is only for the Saints! The Regenerated! By this Force of Action, though mixed with all the Incoherence and Ribaldry ima⯑ginable, Daniel can laugh at his Dioceſan, and [106] grow fat by voluntary Subſcription, while the Parſon of the Pariſh goes to Law for half his Dues. Daniel will tell you, It is not the Shep⯑herd, but the Sheep with the Bell, which the Flock follows.

Another Thing, very wonderful this learned Body ſhould omit, is, Learning to read; which is a moſt neceſſary Part of Eloquence in one who is to ſerve at the Altar: For there is no Man but muſt be ſenſible, that the lazy Tone, and inarticulate Sound of our common Readers depreciates the moſt proper Form of Words that were ever extant in any Nation or Language, to ſpeak our own Wants, or his Power from whom we ask Relief.

There cannot be a greater Inſtance of the Power of Action than in little Parſon Dapper, who is the common Relief to all the lazy Pulpits in Town. This ſmart Youth has a very good Memory, a quick Eye, and a clean Handkerchief. Thus equip⯑ped, he opens his Text, ſhuts his Book fairly, ſhows he has no Notes in his Bible, opens both Palms, and ſhows all is fair there too. Thus, with a de⯑ciſive Air, my young Man goes on without Heſi⯑tation; and though from the Beginning to the End of his pretty Diſcourſe, he has not uſed one proper Geſture, yet at the Concluſion, the Church-warden pulls his Gloves from off his Head; Pray, who is this extraordinary young Man? Thus the Force of Action is ſuch, that it is more prevalent, even when improper, than all the Rea⯑ſon and Argument in the World without it. This Gentleman concluded his Diſcourſe by ſaying, I do not doubt, but if our Preachers would learn to ſpeak, and our Readers to read, within Six Months Time we ſhould not have a Diſſenter within a Mile of a Church in Great Britain.

I have a Letter from a young Fellow who com⯑plains to me, that he was bred a Mercer, and is now juſt out of his Time, but unfortunately (for [107] he has no Manner of Education ſuitable to his preſent Eſtate) an Uncle has left him 1000 l. per Annum. The young Man is ſenſible that he is ſo ſpruce, that he fears he ſhall never be genteel as long as he lives, but applies himſelf to me, to know what Method to take to help his Air, and be a Fine Gentleman.

He ſays, ‘'That ſeveral of thoſe Ladies who were formerly his Cuſtomers, viſit his Mother on Purpoſe to fall in his Way, and fears he ſhall be obliged to marry againſt his Will; for (ſays he) if any one of them ſhould ask me, I ſhall not be able to deny her. I am (ſays he further) utterly at a Loſs how to deal with them; for though I was the moſt pert Creature in the World when I was Foreman, and could hand a Woman of the Firſt Quality to her Coach as well as her own Gentleman Uſher, I am now quite out of my Way, and ſpeechleſs in their Company. They commend my Mode⯑ſty to my Face. No one ſcruples to ſay, I ſhould certainly make the beſt Husband in the World, a Man of my ſober Education.—Mrs. Wou'd-be watches all Opportunities to be alone with me: Therefore, good Mr. Bicker⯑ſtaff, here are my Writings encloſed; if you can find any Flaw in my Title, ſo as it may go to the next Heir, who goes to St. James's Cof⯑fee-houſe, and White's, and could enjoy it, I ſhould be extremely well pleaſed with Two Thouſand Pounds to ſet up my Trade, and live in a Way I know I ſhould become, rather than be laugh'd at all my Life among too good Com⯑pany. If you could ſend for my Couſin, and perſwade him to take the Eſtate on theſe Terms, and let no Body know it, you would extremely oblige me.'’

[108] Upon firſt Sight, I thought this a very whimſical Propoſal; however, upon more mature Conſide⯑ration, I could not but admire the young Gentle⯑man's Prudence and good Senſe: For there is no⯑thing ſo irkſome, as living in a Way a Man knows he does not become. I conſulted Mr. Obadiah Greenhat on this Occaſion, and he is ſo well plea⯑ſed with the Man, that he has half a Mind to take the Eſtate himſelf; but upon ſecond Thoughts he propoſed this Expedition. I ſhould be very willing (ſaid he) to keep the Eſtate where it is, if we could make the young Man any Way eaſy; therefore I humbly propoſe, he ſhould take to Drinking for one Half-Year, and make a Sloven of him, and from thence begin his Education a⯑new: For it is a Maxim, That one who is ill taught, is in a worſe Condition than he who is wholly ignorant; therefore a ſpruce Mercer is farther off the Air of a Fine Gentleman, than a downright Clown. To make our Patient any Thing better, we muſt unmake him what he is. I indeed propoſed to flux him; but Greenhat an⯑ſwer'd, That if he recovered, he'd be as prim and feat as ever he was: Therefore he would have it his Way; and our Friend is to drink till he is carbuncled, and Tun-bellied; after which we will ſend him down to ſmoke, and be buried with his Anceſtors in Derbyſhire. I am indeed deſirous he ſhould have his Life in the Eſtate, be⯑cauſe he has ſuch a juſt Senſe of himſelf and his Abilities, to know that it is an Unhappineſs to him to be a Man of Fortune.

This Youth ſeems to underſtand, that a Gentle⯑man's Life is that of all others the hardeſt to paſs through with Propriety of Behaviour; for though he has a Support without Art or Labour, yet his Manner of enjoying that Circumſtance is a Thing to be conſidered; and you ſee among Men who are honoured with the common Appel⯑lation of Gentlemen, ſo many Contradictions to [109] that Character, that it is the utmoſt ill Fortune to bear it: For which Reaſon I am oblig'd to change the Circumſtances of ſeveral about this Town. Harry Lacker is ſo very exact in his Dreſs, that I ſhall give his Eſtate to his younger Bro⯑ther, and make him a Dancing Maſter. Nokes Lightfoot is ſo nimble, and values himſelf ſo much upon it, that I have Thoughts of making him Huntſman to a Pack of Beagles, and give his Land to ſome Body that will ſtay upon it.

Now I am upon the Topick of becoming what we enjoy, I forbid all Perſons who are not of the firſt Quality, or who do not bear ſome important Office that requires ſo much Diſtinction, to go to Hide-Park with Six Horſes; for I cannot but eſteem it the higheſt Inſolence: Therefore here⯑after no Man ſhall do it meerly becauſe he is able, without any other Pretenſion. But what may ſerve all Purpoſes quite as well, it ſhall be allowed all ſuch who think Riches the chief Di⯑ſtinction, to appear in the Ring with Two Hor⯑ſes only, and a Rent-Roll hanging out of each Side of their Coach. This is a Thought of Mr. Greenhat's, who deſigns very ſoon to publiſh a ſumptuary Diſcourſe upon the Subject of Equi⯑page, wherein he will give us Rules on that Sub⯑ject, and aſſign the proper Duties and Qualifica⯑tions of Maſters and Servants, as well as that of Husbands and Wives; with a Treatiſe of Oeco⯑nomy without Doors, or the compleat Art of ap⯑pearing in the World. This will be very uſeful to all who are ſuddenly rich, or are aſhamed of being poor.

I have Notice of a new Pack of Dogs, of quite another Sort than hitherto mention'd. I have not an exact Account of their Way of Hunting, [110] the following Letter giving only a bare Notice of them.

We have received Letters from the Duke of Marlborough's Camp, which brings us further Par⯑ticulars of the great and glorious Victory obtain'd over the Enemy on the 11th Inſtant, N. S. The Number of the Wounded and Priſoners is much greater than was expected from our firſt Ac⯑count. The Day was doubtful till after Twelve of the Clock; but the Enemy made little Reſi⯑ſtance after their firſt Line on the Left began to give Way. An exact Narration of the whole Affair is expected next Poſt. The French have had Two Days allowed them to bury their Dead, and carry off their wounded Men upon Parole. [111] Thoſe Regiments of Great Britain which ſuffer'd moſt, are order'd into Garriſon, and freſh Troops commanded to march into the Field. The States have alſo directed Troops to march out of the Towns, to relieve thoſe who loſt ſo many Men in attacking the Second Intrenchment of the French in the Plain between Sart and Janſart.

NO Man can conceive, till he comes to try it, how great a Pain it is to be a Publick⯑ſpirited Perſon. I am ſure I am unable to expreſs to the World, what great Anxiety I have ſuffered, to ſee of how little Benefit my Lucubrations have been to my Fellow-Subjects. Men will go on in their own Way in Spight of all my Labour. I gave Mr. Didapper a private Reprimand for wear⯑ing red-heel'd Shoes, and at the ſame Time was ſo indulgent as to connive at him for Fourteen Days, becauſe I would give him the wearing of them out; but after all this I am informed, he appeared Yeſterday with a new Pain of the ſame Sort. I have no better Succeſs with Mr. Whatde'call, as to his Buttons: Stentor ſtill roars; and Box and Dice rattle as loud as they did before I writ againſt them. Partridge walks about at Noon-day, and Aeſculapius thinks of ad⯑ding a new Lace to his Lively. However I muſt ſtill go on in laying theſe Enormities before Men's Eyes, and let them anſwer for going on in their Practice.

My Province is much larger than at firſt Sight Men would imagine, and I ſhall loſe no Part of my Juriſdiction, which extends not only to Futurity, but alſo is retroſpect to [112] Things paſt; and the Behaviour of Perſons who have long ago acted their Parts, is as much liable to my Examination, as that of my own Contem⯑poraries.

In order to put the whole Race of Mankind in their proper Diſtinctions, according to the Opi⯑nion their Cohabitants conceived of them, I have with very much Care, and Depth of Meditation, thought fit to erect a Chamber of Fame, and eſtabliſhed certain Rules, which are to be obſer⯑ved in admitting Members into this illuſtrious So⯑ciety.

In this Chamber of Fame there are to be Three Tables, but of different Lengths; the Firſt is to contain exactly Twelve Perſons; the Second, Twenty; the Third, an Hundred. This is reckon⯑ed to be the full Number of thoſe who have any competent Share of Fame. At the Firſt of theſe Tables are to be placed in their Order the Twelve moſt famous Perſons in the World, not with Re⯑gard to the Things they are famous for, but ac⯑cording to the Degree of their Fame, whether in Valour, Wit, or Learning. Thus, if a Scholar be more famous than a Soldier, he is to ſit above him. Neither muſt any Preference be given to Virtue, if the Perſon be not equally famous.

When the Firſt Table is filled, the next in Re⯑nown muſt be ſeated at the Second, and ſo on in like Manner to the Number of Twenty; as alſo in the ſame Order at the Third, which is to hold an Hundred. At theſe Tables, no Regard is to be had to Seniority: For if Julius Caeſar ſhall be judged more famous than Romulus and Scipio, he muſt have the Precedence. No Perſon who has not been dead an Hundred Years, muſt be offered to a Place at any of theſe Tables: And becauſe this is altogether a Lay-Society, and that ſacred Perſons move upon greater Motives than that of Fame, no Perſons celebrated in holy Writ, or any Eccle⯑ſiaſtical Men whatſoever, are to be introduced here.

[113] At the lower End of the Room is to be a Side-Table for Perſons of great Fame, but dubious Exiſtence, ſuch as Hercules, Theſeus, Aeneas, A⯑chilles, Hector, and others. But becauſe it is ap⯑prehended, that there may be great Contention about Precedence, the Propoſer humbly deſires the Opinion of the Learned towards his Aſſi⯑ſtance in placing every Perſon according to his Rank, that none may have juſt Occaſion of Of⯑fence.

The Merits of the Cauſe ſhall be judged by Plurality of Voices.

For the more impartial Execution of this im⯑portant Affair, it is deſired, That no Man will offer his Favourite Hero, Scholar, or Poet; and that the Learned will be pleaſed to ſend to Mr. Bickerſtaff, at Mr. Morphew's near Stationers-Hall, their ſeveral Liſts for the Firſt Table only, and in the Order they would have them placed; after which the Compoſer will compare the ſeve⯑ral Liſts, and make another for the Publick, wherein every Name ſhall be ranked according to the Voices it has had. Under this Chamber is to be a dark Vault for the ſame Number of Per⯑ſons of evil Fame.

It is humbly ſubmitted to Conſideration, Whe⯑ther the Project would not be better, if the Per⯑ſons of true Fame meet in a middle Room, thoſe of dubious Exiſtence in an upper Room, and thoſe of evil Fame in a lower dark Room.

It is to be noted, That no Hiſtorians are to be admitted at any of theſe Tables, becauſe they are appointed to conduct the ſeveral Perſons to their Seats, and are to be made Uſe of as Uſhers to the Aſſemblies.

I call upon the learned World to ſend me their Aſſiſtance towards this Deſign, it being a Matter of too great Moment for any one Perſon to de⯑termine. But I do aſſure them, their Liſts ſhall be examined with great Fidelity, and thoſe that [114] are expoſed to the Publick, made with all the Caution imaginable.

In the mean Time, while I wait for theſe Liſts, I am employ'd in keeping People in a right Way, to avoid the contrary to Fame and Applauſe, to wit, Blame and Deriſion. For this End, I work upon that uſeful Project of the Penny-Poſt, by the Benefit of which it is propoſed, that a Chari⯑table Society be eſtabliſhed: From which Society there ſhall go every Day Circular Letters to all Parts within the Bills of Mortality, to tell People of their Faults in a friendly and private Manner, whereby you may know what the World thinks of them, before it is declared to the World that they are thus faulty. This Me⯑thod cannot fail of univerſal good Conſequences: For it is further added, that they who will not be reformed by it, muſt be contented to ſee the ſeveral Letters printed, which were not regarded by them, that when they will not take private Reprehenſion, they may be tried further by a publick one. I am very ſorry I am obliged to print the following Epiſtles of that Kind to ſome Perſons, and the more, becauſe they are of the Fair Sex. This went on Friday laſt to a very fine Lady.

This Perſon dreſſes juſt as ſhe did before I writ: As does alſo the Lady to whom I addreſſed the following Billet the ſame Day:

This, I thought, had all the Civility and Rea⯑ſon in the World in it; but whether my Letters are intercepted, or whatever it is, the Lady patches as ſhe uſed to do. It is to be obſerved by all the charitable Society, as an Inſtruction in their Epiſtles, that they tell People of nothing [116] but what is in their Power to mend. I ſhall give another Inſtance of this Way of Writing: Two Siſters in Eſſex-ſtreet are eternally gaping out of the Window, as if they knew not the Va⯑lue of Time, or would call in Companions. Upon which I writ the following Line:

But I went by Yeſterday, and found them ſtill at the Window. What can a Man do in this Caſe? but go on; and wrap himſelf up in his own Integrity, with Satisfaction only in his me⯑lancholy Truth, that Virtue is its own Reward; and that if no one is the better for his Admoni⯑tions, yet he is himſelf the more virtuous in that he gave thoſe Advices.

Letters of the 13th Inſtant from the Duke of Marlborough's Camp at Havre adviſe, That the neceſſary Diſpoſitions were made for opening the Trenches before Mons. The Direction of the Siege is to be committed to the Prince of Orange, who deſigned to take his Poſt accordingly with 30 Battalions and 30 Squadrons on the Day fol⯑lowing. On the 17th, Lieutenant-General Cado⯑gan ſet out for Bruſſels, to haſten the Ammuni⯑tion and Artillery which is to be employed in this Enterprize; and the Confederate Army was extended from the Haiſne to the Trouille, in order to cover the Siege. The Loſs of the Confederates in the late Battle is not exactly known; but it ap⯑pears by a Liſt tranſmitted to the States-Gene⯑ral, that the Number of the Killed and Wound⯑ed in their Service amounts to above Eight thou⯑ſand. It is computed, that the Engliſh have loſt 1500 Men, and the reſt of the Allies about Five thouſand, including the Wounded. The States-General have taken the moſt ſpeedy and effectual [117] Meaſures for reinforcing their Troops; and 'tis expected, that in Eight or Ten Days the Army will be as numerous as before the Battle. The Affairs in Italy afford us nothing remarkable; on⯑ly that it is hoped, the Difference between the Courts of Vienna and Turin will be ſpeedily ac⯑commodated. Letters from Poland preſent us with a near Proſpect of ſeeing King Auguſtus re⯑eſtabliſhed on the Throne, all Parties being very induſtrious to reconcile themſelves to his Inte⯑reſts.

Of all the pretty Arts in which our modern Writers excel, there is not any which is more to be recommended to the Imitation of Beginners, than the Skill of Tranſition from one Subject to another. I know not whether I make my ſelf well underſtood; but it is certain, that the Way of ſtringing a Diſcourſe, uſed in the Mercury Gal⯑lant, the Gentleman's Journal, and other learned Writings, not to mention how naturally Things preſent themſelves to ſuch as harangue in Pulpits, and other Occaſions which occur to the Learned, are Methods worthy Commendation. I ſhall at⯑tempt this Style my ſelf in a few Lines. Suppoſe I were diſcourſing upon the King of Sweden's paſſing the Boriſthenes. The Boriſthenes is a great River, and puts me in Mind of the Danube and the Rhine. The Danube I cannot think of with⯑out reflecting on that unhappy Prince who had ſuch fair Territories on the Banks of it; I mean the Duke of Bavaria, who by our laſt Letters is retired from Mons. Mons is as ſtrong a Fortifica⯑tion as any which has no Citadel: And Places which are not compleatly fortified, are, me⯑thinks, Leſſons to Princes, that they are not Om⯑nipotent, but liable to the Strokes of Fortune. But as all Princes are ſubject to ſuch Calamities, it is the Part of Men of Letters to guard them from the Obſervations of all ſmall Writers: For [118] which Reaſon I ſhall conclude my preſent Re⯑marks, by publiſhing the following Advertiſe⯑ment, to be taken Notice of by all who dwell in the Suburbs of Learning.

THE Progreſs of our Endeavours will of Ne⯑ceſſity be very much interrupted, except the learned World will pleaſe to ſend their Liſts to the Chamber of Fame with all Expedition. There is nothing can ſo much contribute to create a noble Emulation in our Youth, as the honou⯑rable Mention of ſuch whoſe Actions have out⯑lived the Injuries of Time, and recommended themſelves ſo far to the World, that it is become Learning to know the leaſt Circumſtance of their [119] Affairs. It is a great Incentive to ſee, that ſome Men have raiſed themſelves ſo highly above their Fellow Creatures; that the Lives of ordinary Men are ſpent in Inquiries after the particular Actions of the moſt Illuſtrious. True it is, that without this Impulſe to Fame and Reputation, our Induſtry would ſtagnate, and that lively Deſire of pleaſing each other die away. This Opinion was ſo eſtabliſh'd in the Heathen World, that their Senſe of Living appeared inſipid, except their Being was enlivened with a Conſciouſneſs, that they were eſteemed by the reſt of the World.

Upon examining the Proportion of Men's Fame for my Table of Twelve, I thought it no ill Way, ſince I had laid it down for a Rule, That they were to be ranked ſimply as they were fa⯑mous, without Regard to their Virtue, to ask my Siſter Jenny's Advice, and particularly mentioned to her the Name of Ariſtotle. She immediately told me, he was a very great Scholar, and that ſhe had read him at the Boarding-School. She cer⯑tainly means a Trifle ſold by the Hawkers, cal⯑led Ariſtotle's Problems. But this raiſed a great Scruple in me, Whether a Fame increaſed by Im⯑poſition of others is to be added to his Account, or that theſe Excreſcencies, which grow out of his real Reputation, and give Encouragement to others to paſs Things under the Covert of his Name, ſhould be conſidered in giving him his Seat in the Chamber? This Punctilio is referred to the Learned. In the mean Time, ſo ill-na⯑tured are Mankind, that I believe I have Names already ſent me ſufficient to fill up my Liſts for the dark Room, and every one is apt enough to ſend in their Accounts of ill Defervers. This Malevolence does not proceed from a real Diſlike of Virtue, but a diabolical Prejudice againſt it, which makes Men willing to deſtroy what they care not to imitate. Thus you ſee the greateſt Characters among your Acquaintance, and thoſe [120] you live with, are traduced by all below them in Virtue, who never mention them but with an Ex⯑ception. However, I believe I ſhall not give the World much Trouble about filling my Tables for thoſe of evil Fame, for I have ſome Thoughts of clapping up the Sharpers there as faſt as I can lay hold of them.

At preſent, I am employed in looking over the ſeveral Notices which I have received of their Manner of Dexterity, and the Way at Dice of making all Rugg, as the Cant is. The whole Art of ſecuring a Die, has lately been ſent me by a Per⯑ſon who was of the Fraternity, but is diſabled by the Loſs of a Finger, by which Means he cannot practiſe that Trick as he uſed to do. But I am very much at a Loſs how to call ſome of the Fair Sex, who are Accomplices with the Knights of In⯑duſtry; for my Metaphorical Dogs are eaſily enough underſtood; but the Feminine Gender of Dogs has ſo harſh a Sound, that we know not how to name it. But I am credibly informed, that there are Fe⯑male Dogs as voracious as the Males, and make Advances to young Fellows, without any other Deſign but coming to a Familiarity with their Purſes. I have alſo long Liſts of Perſons of Con⯑dition, who are certainly of the ſame Regimen with theſe Banditti, and inſtrumental to their Cheats upon undiſcerning Men of their own Rank. Theſe add their good Reputation to carry on the Impoſtures of others, whoſe very Names would elſe be Defence enough againſt falling into their Hands. But for the Honour of our Nation, theſe ſhall be unmention'd, provided we hear no more of ſuch Practices, and that they ſhall not from henceforward ſuffer the Society of ſuch, as they know to be the common Enemies of Order, Diſ⯑cipline, and Virtue. If it appear that they go on in encouraging them, they muſt be proceeded againſt according to ſevereſt Rules of Hiſtory, where all is to be laid before the World [121] with Impartiality, and without Reſpect to Per⯑ſons.

So let the ſtricken Deer go weep.

I find left here for me the following Epiſtle:

To obey this complaiſant Gentleman, I know no Way ſo ſhort as examining the various Touches of my own Boſom, on ſeveral Occurrences in a long Life, in the Evening of which I am ar⯑rived, after as many various Incidents as any Body has met with. I have often reflected, that the e is a great Similitude in the Motions of the Heart in Mirth and in Sorrow; and I think the uſual Occaſion of the latter, as well as the for⯑mer, is ſomething which is ſudden and unexpect⯑ed. The Mind has not a ſufficient Time to recol⯑lect its Force, and immediately guſhes into Tears before we can utter our ſelves by Speech or Com⯑plaint. The moſt notorious Cauſes of theſe Drops from our Eyes, are Pity, Sorrow, Joy, and Reconciliation.

[122] The Fair Sex, who are made of Man and not of Earth, have a more delicate Humanity than we have, and Pity is the moſt common Cauſe of their Tears: For as we are inwardly compoſed of an Aptitude to every Circumſtance of Life, and every Thing that befalls any one Perſon, might have happened to any other of humane Race; Self-love, and a Senſe of the Pain we our ſelves ſhould ſuffer in the Circumſtances of any whom we pity, is the Cauſe of that Compaſſion. Such a Reflection in the Breaſt of a Woman, imme⯑diately inclines her to Tears; but in a Man, it makes him think how ſuch a one ought to act on that Occaſion, ſuitably to the Dignity of his Nature. Thus a Woman is ever moved for thoſe whom ſhe hears lament, and a Man for thoſe whom he obſerves to ſuffer in Silence. It is a Man's own Behaviour in the Circumſtances he is under which procures him the Eſteem of others, and not meerly the Affliction it ſelf which de⯑mands our Pity: For we never give a Man that Paſſion which he falls into for himſelf. He that commends himſelf, never purchaſes our Applauſe; nor he who bewails himſelf, our Pity.

Going through an Alley the other Day, I ob⯑ſerved a noiſy impudent Beggar bawl out, That he was wounded in a Merchant-man; That he had loſt his poor Limbs, and ſhowed a Leg clouted up. All that paſſed by, made what haſte they could out of his Sight and Hearing; but a Poor Fellow at the End of the Paſſage, with a ruſty Coat, a melancholy Air, and a ſoft Voice, deſired them to look upon a Man not uſed to beg. The latter received the Charity of almoſt every one that went by. The Strings of the Heart, which are to be touched to give us Compaſſion, are not ſo played on but by the fineſt Hand. We ſee in Tragical Repreſentations, it is not the Pomp of Language, or Magnificence of Dreſs, in which the [123] Paſſion is wrought that touches ſenſible Spirits, but ſomething of a plain and ſimple Nature which breaks in upon our Souls, by that Sympathy which is given us for our mutual Good-will and Service.

In the Tragedy of Mackbeth, where Wilks acts the Part of a Man whoſe Family has been mur⯑dered in his Abſence, the Wildneſs of his Paſſion, which is run over in a Torrent of calamitous Circumſtances, does but raiſe my Spirits, and give me the Alarm; but when he skilfully ſeems to be out of Breath, and is brought too low to ſay more; and upon a ſecond Reflection, cry, only wiping his Eyes, What both Children! Both, both my Children gone!—There is no reſiſting a Sor⯑row which ſeems to have caſt about for all the Reaſons poſſible for its Conſolation, but has no Recourſe. There is not one left, but both, both are murdered! Such ſudden Starts from the Thread of the Diſcourſe, and a plain Sentiment expreſſed in an artleſs Way, are the irreſiſtible Strokes of Eloquence and Poetry. The ſame great Maſter, Shakeſpear, can afford us Inſtances of all the Places where our Souls are acceſſible, and ever commands our Tears: But it is to be obſerved, that he draws them from ſome unex⯑pected Source, which ſeems not wholly of a Piece with the Diſcourſe. Thus, when Brutus and Caſſius had a Debate in the Tragedy of Caeſar, and roſe to warm Language againſt each other, inſomuch that it had almoſt come to ſomething that might be fatal, till they recollected them⯑ſelves; Brutus does more than make an Apology for the Heat he had been in, by ſaying, Porcia is dead—Here Caſſius is all Tenderneſs, and ready to diſſolve, when he conſiders, that the Mind of his Friend had been employed on the greateſt Affliction imaginable, when he had been adding to it by a Debate on Trifles; which makes him in the Anguiſh of his Heart cry out, How ſcaped I killing, when I thus provoked you? [124] This is an Incident which moves the Soul in all its Sentiments; and Caſſius's Heart was at once touched with all the ſoft Pangs of Pity, Remorſe, and Reconciliation. It is ſaid indeed by Horace, If you would have me weep, you muſt firſt weep your ſelf. This is not literally true, for it would have been as rightly ſaid, if we obſerve Nature, That I ſhall certainly weep, if you do not: But what is intended by that Expreſſion, is, That it is not poſſible to give Paſſion, except you ſhow that you ſuffer your ſelf. Therefore the true Art ſeems to be, that when you would have the Per⯑ſon you repreſent pitied, you muſt ſhow him at once, in the higheſt Grief and Struggling, to bear it with Decency and Patience. In this Caſe, we ſigh for him, and give him every Groan he ſuppreſſes.

I remember, when I was young enough to follow the Sports of the Field, I have more than once rode off at the Death of a Deer, when I have ſeen the Animal in an Affliction which ap⯑peared humane without the leaſt Noiſe, let fall Tears when he was reduced to Extremity; and I have thought of the Sorrow I ſaw him in when his Haunch came to the Table. But our Tears are not given only to Objects of Pity, but the Mind has Recourſe to that Relief in all Oc⯑caſions which give us much Emotion. Thus to be apt to ſhed Tears, is a Sign of a great as well as little Spirit. I have heard ſay, the pre⯑ſent Pope never paſſes through the People, who always kneel in Crowds and ask his Benediction, but the Tears are ſeen to flow from his Eyes. This muſt proceed from an Imagination, that he is the Father of all thoſe People, and that he is touched with ſo extenſive a Benevolence, that it breaks out into a Paſſion of Tears. You ſee Friends, who have been long abſent, tranſported in the ſame Manner: A Thouſand little Images crowd upon them at their Meeting, as all the Joys and Griefs they have known during their [125] Separation; and in one Hurry of Thought, they conceive how they ſhould have participated in thoſe Occaſions; and weep, becauſe their Minds are too full to wait the ſlow Expreſſion of Words.

IT is, as far as it relates to our preſent Being, the great End of Education to raiſe our ſelves above the Vulgar; but what is intended by the Vulgar, is not, methinks, enough underſtood. In me, indeed, that Word raiſes a quite different Idea from what it uſually does in others; but perhaps that proceeds from my being old, and beginning to want the Reliſh of ſuch Satisfactions as are the ordinary Entertainment of Men. How⯑ever ſuch as my Opinion is in this Caſe, I will ſpeak it; becauſe it is poſſible that Turn of Thought may be received by others, who may reap as much Satisfaction from it as I do my ſelf.

It is to me a very great Meanneſs, and ſome⯑thing much below a Philoſopher, which is what I mean by a Gentleman, to rank a Man among the Vulgar for the Condition of Life he is in, and not according to his Behaviour, his Thoughts and Sentiments, in that Condition. For if a Man be loaded with Riches and Honours, and in that State of Life has Thoughts and Inclinations be⯑low the meaneſt Artificer; is not ſuch an Artifi⯑cer, who within his Power is good to his Friends, moderate in his Demands for his Labour, and chearful in his Occupation, very much ſuperior to him who lives for no other End but to ſerve himſelf, and aſſumes a Preference in all his Words and Actions to thoſe, who act their Part with [127] much more Grace than himſelf? Epictetus has made uſe of the Similitude of a Stage-Play to hu⯑mane Life with much Spirit. It is not, ſays he, to be conſidered among the Actors, who is Prince, or who is Beggar, but who acts Prince or Beg⯑gar beſt. The Circumſtance of Life ſhould not be that which gives us Place, but our Behaviour in that Circumſtance is what ſhould be our ſolid Diſtinction. Thus, a wiſe Man ſhould think no Man above him or below him, any further than it regards the outward Order and Diſcipline of the World: For if we take too great an Idea of the Eminence of our Superiors, or Subordina⯑tion of our Inferiors, it will have an ill Effect up on our Behaviour to both. He who thinks no Man above him but for his Virtue, none below him but for his Vice, can never be obſequious or aſſuming in a wrong Place, but will frequently emulate Men in Rank below him, and pity thoſe above him.

This Senſe of Mankind is ſo far from a levelling Principle, that it only ſets us upon a true Baſis of Diſtinction, and doubles the Merit of ſuch as be⯑come their Condition. A Man in Power, who can, without the ordinary Prepoſſeſſions which ſtop the Way to the true knowledge and Service of Mankind, over-look the little Diſtinctions of Fortune, raiſe obſcure Merit, and diſcountenance ſucceſsful Indeſert, has, in the Minds of knowing Men, the Figure of an Angel rather than a Man, and is above the reſt of Men in the higheſt Cha⯑racter he can be, even that of their Benefactor.

Turning my Thoughts as I was taking my Pipe this Evening after this Manner, it was no ſmall Delight to me to receive Advice from Felicia, That Eboracenſis was appointed a Governour of one of their Plantations. As I am a great Lover of Man⯑kind, I took Part in the Happineſs of that People who were to be governed by one of ſo great Hu⯑manity, Juſtice, and Honour. Eboracenſis has read [128] all the Schemes which Writers have formed of Government and Order, and been long conver⯑ſant with Men who have the Reins in their Hands; ſo that he can very well diſtinguiſh be⯑tween Chimaerical and Practical Politicks. It is a great Bleſſing (when Men have to deal with ſuch different Characters in the ſame Species as thoſe of Free-Men and Slaves) that they who command have a juſt Senſe of humane Nature it ſelf, by which they can temper the Haughtineſs of the Maſter, and ſoften the Servitude of the Slave. Hae tibi erunt Artes. This is the Notion with which thoſe of the Plantation receive Ebo⯑racenſis: And as I have caſt his Nativity, I find it will be a Record made of this Perſon's Ad⯑miniſtration; and on that Part of the Shore from whence he embarks to return from his Government, there will be a Moument with theſe Words; Here the People wept, and took Leave of Eboracenſis, the firſt Governour our Mo⯑ther Felicia ſent, who, during his Command here, believed himſelf her Subject.

The following Letter wants ſuch ſudden Diſ⯑patch, that all Things elſe muſt wait for this Time.

This is very extraordinary, and much might be objected by me, who am ſomething of a Ci⯑vilian, to the Caſe of Two marrying the ſame Man; but theſe Ladies are, I perceive, Free-Thinkers, and therefore I ſhall ſpeak only to the prudential Part of this Deſign, meerly as a Phi⯑loſopher, without entring into the Merit of it in the Eccleſiaſtical or Civil Law. Theſe conſtant Friends, Piledea and Oreſtea, are at a Loſs to preſerve their Friendſhip from the Encroach⯑ments of Love, for which End they have reſolved upon a Fellow who cannot be the Object of Af⯑fection [130] or Eſteem to either, and conſequently cannot rob one of the Place each has in her Friend's Heart. But in all my Reading, (and I have read all that the Sages in Love have writ) I have found the greateſt Danger in Jealouſy. The Ladies indeed, to avoid this Paſſion, chuſe a ſad Fellow; but if they would be adviſed by me, they had better have each their worthleſs Man; otherwiſe, he that was deſpicable while he was indifferent to them, will become valuable when he ſeems to prefer one to the other.

I remember in the Hiſtory of Don Quixot of the Manca, there is a memorable Paſſage which opens to us the Weakneſs of our Nature in ſuch Particu⯑lars. The Don falls into Diſcourſe with a Gen⯑tleman whom he calls the Knight of the Green-Caſ⯑ſock, and is invited to his Houſe. When he comes there, he runs into Diſcourſe and Panegyrick up⯑on the Oeconomy, the Government and Order of his Family, the Education of his Children; and laſtly, on the ſingular Wiſdom of him who diſpoſed Things with that Exactneſs. The Gen⯑tleman makes a Soliloquy to himſelf, Oh irreſi⯑ſtible Power of Flattery! 'Though I know this is a Mad-man, I cannot help being taken with his Applauſe. The Ladies will find this much more true in the Caſe of their Lover; and the Woman be moſt likes, will certainly be more pleaſed; ſhe whom he ſlights, more offended, than ſhe can imagine before ſhe has tried. Now I humbly propoſe, That they both marry Cox⯑combs whom they are ſure they cannot like, and then they may be pretty ſecure againſt the Change of Affection, which they fear; and by that Means, preſerving the Temperature under which they now write, enjoy during Life, Equal Day and Night.

There is no Manner of News; but People now ſpend their Time in Coffee-houſes in Reflections [131] upon the Particulars of the late glorious Day, and collecting the ſeveral Parts of the Action, as they are produced in Letters from private Hands, or Notice given to us by Accounts in publick Pa⯑pers. A pleaſant Gentleman, alluding to the great Fences through which we pierced, ſaid this Evening. The French thought themſelves on the right Side of the Hedge, but it proved other⯑wiſe. Mr. Kidney, who has long converſed with, and filled Tea for the moſt conſummate Politi⯑cians, was pleaſed to give me an Account of this Piece of Ribaldry, and deſired me on that Occa⯑ſion to write a whole Paper on the Subject of Valour, and explain how that Quality, which muſt be poſſeſſed by whole Armies, is ſo highly preferable in one Man rather than another, and how the ſame Actions are but meer Acts of Duty in ſome, and Inſtances of the moſt Heroick Virtue in others. He adviſed me not to fail in this Diſ⯑courſe to mention the Gallantry of the Prince of Naſſau in this laſt Engagement, who (when a Battalion made an Halt in the Face of the Enemy) ſnatched the Colours out of the Hands of the En⯑ſign, and planted them juſt before the Line of the Enemy, calling to that Battalion to take Care of their Colours, if they had no Regard to him. Mr. Kidney has my Promiſe to obey him in this Particular on the firſt Occaſion that offers.

THE following Letter, in Proſecution of what I have lately aſſerted, has urged that Mat⯑ter ſo much better than I had, that I inſert it as [133] I received it. Theſe Teſtimonials are cuſtomary with us learned Men, and ſometimes are ſuſpe⯑cted to be written by the Author; but I fear no one will ſuſpect me of this.

The moſt learned and ingenious Mr. Roſchat is alſo pleaſed to write to me on this Subject.

Another learned Gentleman gives me alſo this Encomium:

This was left for me here for the Uſe of the Company of the Houſe.

I Have long been againſt my Inclination em⯑ployed in Satyr, and that in Proſecution of ſuch Perſons who are below the Dignity of the true Spirit of it; ſuch who I fear are not to be reclaimed by making them only ridiculous. The Sharpers therefore ſhall have a Month's Time to themſelves free from the Obſervation of this Pa⯑per; but I muſt not make a Truce without let⯑ting 'em know, that at the ſame Time I am pre⯑paring for a more vigorous War; for a Friend of mine has promiſed me, he will employ his Time in compiling ſuch a Tract before the Seſ⯑ſion of the enſuing Parliament, as ſhall lay Gaming home to the Boſoms of all who love their Country or their Families; and he doubts [140] not but it will create an Act, that ſhall make theſe Rogues as ſcandalous, as thoſe leſs miſchie⯑vous Ones on the high Road.

I have received private Intimations to take Care of my Walks, and remember there are ſuch Things as Stabs and Blows: But as there never was any Thing in this Deſign which ought to diſpleaſe a Man of Honour, or which was not deſign'd to offend the Raſcals, I ſhall give my ſelf very little Concern for finding what I expected, that they would be highly provoked at theſe Lucubrations. But tho' I utterly deſpiſe the Pack, I muſt confeſs I am at a Stand at the Receipt of the following Letter, which ſeems to be written by a Man of Senſe and Worth, who has miſtaken ſome Paſſage that I am ſure was not levelled at him. This Gen⯑tleman's Complaints give me Compunction, when I neglect the Threats of the Reſcals. I can't be in Jeſt with the Rogues any longer, ſince they pretend to threaten. I don't know whether I ſhall allow 'em the Favour of Tranſportation.

The Proverb of the Pitcher I have no Regard to; but it would be an Inſenſibility not to be par⯑doned, if a Man could be untouched at ſo warm an Accuſation, and that laid with ſo much ſeem⯑ing Temper. All I can ſay to it is, That if the Writer, by the ſame Method whereby he con⯑veyed this Letter, ſhall give me an Inſtance wherein I have injured any good Man, or point⯑ed at any Thing which is not the true Object of Raillery, I ſhall acknowledge the offence in as open a Manner as the Preſs can do it, and lay down this Paper for ever.

[142] There is ſomething very terrible in unjuſtly at⯑tacking Men in a Way that may prejudice their Honour or Fortune; but when Men of too Modeſt a Senſe of themſelves will think they are touched, it is impoſſible to prevent ill Conſequences from the moſt innocent and general Diſcourſes. This I have known happen in Circumſtances the moſt foreign to theirs who have taken Offence at them. An Advertiſement lately publiſhed, rela⯑ting to Omicron, alarmed a Gentleman of good Senſe, Integrity, Honour, and Induſtry, which is, in every Particular, different from the trifling Pretenders pointed at in that Advertiſement. When the Modeſty of ſome is as exceſſive as the Vanity of others, What Defence is there againſt Miſinterpretation? However, giving Diſturbance, though not intended, to Men of virtuous Cha⯑racters, has ſo ſincerely troubled me, that I will break from this Satyrical Vein; and to ſhow I very little value my ſelf upon it, ſhall for this Month enſuing, leave the Sharper, the Fop, the Pedant, the Proud Man, the Inſolent; in a Word, all the Train of Knaves and Fools, to their own Devices, and touch on nothing but Panegyrick. This Way is ſuitable to the true Genius of the Staffs, who are much more inclined to reward than puniſh. If therefore the Author of the Above-mention'd Let⯑ter does not command my Silence wholly, as he ſhall if I do not give him Satisfaction, I ſhall for the above-mentioned Space turn my Thoughts to raiſing Merit from its Obſcurity, celebrating Virtue in its Diſtreſs, and attacking Vice by no other Me⯑thod, but ſetting Innocence in a proper Light.

I find here for me the following Letter:

I was going on in reading my Letter, when I was interrupted by Mr. Greenhat, who has been this Evening at the Play of Hamlet. Mr. Bicker⯑ſtaff, ſaid he, had you been to Night at the Play⯑houſe, you had ſeen the Force of Action in Per⯑fection: Your admired Mr. Betterton behaved himſelf ſo well, that, tho' now about Seventy, he acted Youth; and by the prevalent Power of proper Manner, Geſture and Voice, appeared thro' the whole Drama a young Man of great Expecta⯑tion, Vivacity and Enterprize. The Soliloquy, where he began the celebrated Sentence of, To be, or not to be; the Expoſtulation where he ex⯑plains with his Mother in her Cloſet, the noble Ardor, after ſeeing his Father's Ghoſt, and his generous Diſtreſs for the Death of Ophelia; are each of them Circumſtances which dwell ſtrongly upon the Minds of the Audience, and would cer⯑tainly affect their Behaviour on any parallel Oc⯑caſion [144] in their own Lives. Pray, Mr. Bicker⯑ſtaff, let us have Virtue thus repreſented on the Stage with its proper Ornaments, or let theſe Ornaments be added to her in Places more ſacred. As for my Part, ſaid he, I carried my Couſin Jerry, this little Boy, with me, and ſhall always love the Child for his Partiality in all that con⯑cerned the Fortune of Hamlet. This is entring Youth into the Affections and Paſſions of Man⯑hood before-hand, and as it were antedating the Effects we hope from a long and liberal Educa⯑tion.

I cannot in the midſt of many other Things which preſs, hide the Comfort that this Letter from my ingenious Kinſman gives me.

I Have taken upon me no very eaſy Task in turning all my Thoughts on Panegyrick, when moſt of the Advices I receive tend to the quite coutrary Purpoſe; and I have few Notices but ſuch as regard Follies and Vices. But the propereſt Way for me to treat, is, to keep in general upon the Paſſions and Affections of Men, with as little Regard to Particulars as the Nature of the Thing will admit. However, I think there is ſomething ſo paſſionate in the Circumſtances of the Lovers mentioned in the following Letter, that I am willing to go out of my Way to obey what is commanded in it.

When the worſt Man that ever lived in the World had the higheſt Station in it, Humane Life [147] was the Object of his Diverſion; and he ſent Orders frequently, out of meer Wantonneſs, to take off ſuch and ſuch, without ſo much as being argry with 'em. Nay, frequently his Tyranny was ſo humorous, that he put Men to Death be⯑cauſe he could not but approve of 'em. It came one Day to his Ear, that a certain married Cou⯑ple, Paetus and Arria, lived in a more happy Tranquility and mutual Love than any other Per⯑ſons who were then in Being. He liſten'd with great Attention to the Account of their Manner of ſpending their Time together, of the conſtant Pleaſure they were to each other in all their Words and Actions; and found by exact Information, that they were ſo treaſonable, as to be much more happy than his Imperial Majeſty himſelf. Upon which he writ Paetus the following Billet:

This familiar Epiſtle was delivered to his Wife Arria, who opened it.

One muſt have a Soul very well turned for Love, Pity, and Indignation, to comprehend the Tumult this unhappy Lady was thrown into up⯑on this Occaſion. The Paſſion of Love is no more to be underſtood by ſome Tempers, than a Pro⯑blem in a Science by an ignorant Man: But be that knows what Affection is, will have, upon conſidering the Condition of Arria, Ten Thou⯑ſand Thoughts flow in upon him, which the Tongue was not form'd to expreſs. But the charming Statue is now before my Eyes, and Arria, in her unutterable Sorrow, has more [148] Beauty than ever appeared in Youth, in Mirth, or in Triumph. Theſe are the great and noble Incidents which ſpeak the Dignity of our Nature, in our Sufferings and Diſtreſſes. Behold, her tender Affection for her Husband ſinks her Fea⯑tures into a Countenance, which appears more helpleſs than that of an Infant: But again, her Indignation ſhows in her Viſage and her Boſom a Reſentment as ſtrong as that of the braveſt Man. Long ſhe ſtood in this Agony of alternate Rage and Love; but at laſt compoſed her ſelf for her Diſſolution, rather than ſurvive her beloved Pae⯑tus. When he came into her Preſence, he found her with the Tyrant's Letter in one Hand, and a Dagger in the other. Upon his Approach to her, ſhe gave him the Order; and at the ſame Time ſtabbing her ſelf, Paetus (ſaid ſhe) it is not pain⯑ful, and expired. Paetus immediately followed her Example. The Paſſion of theſe memorable Lovers was ſuch, that it illuded the Rigour of their Fortune, and baffled the Force of a Blow, which neither felt, becauſe each received it for the Sake of the other. The Woman's Part in this Story is by much the more Heroick, and has occaſioned one of the beſt Epigrams tranſmitted to us from Antiquity:

The Boy ſays, one in a black Hat left the fol⯑lowing Letter:

This Matter is too ſacred for this Paper; but I can't ſee what Injury it would do any Clergy⯑man to have it in his Eye, and believe, all that are taken from him by his Want of Induſtry, are to be demanded of him. I dare ſay, Favonius has very few of theſe Loſſes. Favonius, in the midſt of a Thouſand impertinent Aſſailants of the Divine Truths, is an undiſturbed Defender of'em. He protects all under his Care, by the Clearneſs of his Underſtanding, and the Exam⯑ple of his Life: He viſits dying Men with the [150] Air of a Man who hoped for his own Diſſolution, and enforces in others a Contempt of this Life, by his own Expectation of the next. His Voice and Behaviour are the lively Images of a compoſed and well-governed Zeal. None can leave him for the frivolous Jargon uttered by the ordinary Teachers among Diſſenters, but ſuch who cannot diſtinguiſh Vociferation from Eloquence, and Argument from Railing. He is ſo great a Judge of Mankind, and touches our Paſſions with ſo ſu⯑perior a Command, that he who deſerts his Con⯑gregation muſt be a Stranger to the Dictates of Nature, as well as to thoſe of Grace.

But I muſt proceed to other Matters, and re⯑ſolve the Queſtions of other Enquirers; as in the following:

[151] It is very cuſtomary with us learned Men, to find Perplexities where no one elſe can ſee any. The honeſt Gentlemen who writ me this, are much at a Loſs to underſtand what I thought very plain; and in Return, their Epiſtle is ſo plain, that I can't underſtand it. This, perhaps, is at firſt a little like Nonſence; but I deſire all Perſons to examine theſe Writings with an Eye to my being far gone in the Occult Sciences; and remember, that it is the Privilege of the Learned and the Great to be underſtood when they pleaſe: For as a Man of much Buſineſs may be allowed to leave Company when he pleaſes; ſo one of high Learning may be above your Capacity when he thinks fit. But without further Speeches or Fooling. I muſt inform my Friends the Trencher-Gaps in plain Words, that I meant in the Place they ſpeak of, a drunken Clerk of a Church: And I will return their Civility among my Relations, and drink their Healths as they do ours.

I Cannot expreſs the Confuſion the following Letter gave me, which I received by Sir Thomas this Morning. There cannot be a greater Suprize, than to meet with ſudden Enmity in the midſt of a familiar and friendly Correſpondence; which is my Caſe in Relation to this Epiſtle: And I have no Way to purge my ſelf to the World, but publiſhing both it and my Anſwer.

For ought I know, this Fellow may have con⯑fus'd the Deſcription of the Pack, on Purpoſe to enſnare the Game, while I have all along belie⯑ved he was deſtroying them as well as my ſelf. But becauſe they pretend to bark more than or⯑dinary, I ſhall let 'em ſee, that I will not throw [153] away the Whip, till they know better how to behave themſelves. But I muſt not at the ſame Time omit the Praiſes of their Oeconomy ex⯑preſs'd in the following Advice:

It is wonderful to conſider what a Pitch of Confidence this World is arrived at. Do People believe I am made up of Patience? I have long [156] told them, that I will ſuffer no Enormity to paſs, without I have an Underſtanding with the Offen⯑ders by Way of Huſh-Money; and yet the Can⯑didates at Queen-Hithe ſend Coals to all the Town but me. All the publick Papers have had this Advertiſement.

This is certainly the moſt plain Dealing that ever was uſed, except that the juſt Quantity which an Elector may drink without Exceſs, and the Difference between an Acknowledgment and a Bribe, wants Explanation. Another Difficulty with me is, How a Man who is bargain'd with for a Chaldron of Coals for his Vote, ſhall be ſaid to have that Chaldron gratis? If my Kinſ⯑man Greenhat had given me the leaſt Intimation of his Deſign, I ſhould have prevented his pub⯑liſhing Nonſence; nor ſhould any Knight in Eng⯑land have put my Relation at the Bottom of the Leaf as a Poſtſcript, when after all it appears Greenhat has been the more popular Man. There is here ſuch open Contradiction, and clumſy Art to palliate the Matter, and prove to the People, that the Freedom of Election is ſafer when laid out in Coals than ſtrong Drink, that I can turn this only to a Religious Uſe, and admire the Diſpen⯑ſation of Things; for if theſe Fellows were as wiſe as they are rich, Where would be our Liber⯑ty? This reminds me of a memorable Speech made to a City almoſt in the ſame Latitude with Weſtminſter: When I think of your Wiſdom, I ad⯑mire your Wealth; when I think of your Wealth, I admire your Wiſdom.

THE Writer of the following Letter has made an Uſe of me, which I did not foreſee I ſhould fall into. But the Gentleman having aſ⯑ſured me that he has a moſt tender Paſſion for the Fair One, and ſpeaking his Intentions with ſo much Sincerity, I am willing to let 'em contrive an Interview by my Means.

I can aſſure the young Lady, the Gentleman is in the true Trammels of Love: How elſe would he make his Superſcription ſo very much longer than his Billet? He ſuperſcribes;

This is the modern Way of Bargain and Sale; a certain Short-hand Writing, in which Laconick Elder Brothers are very ſucceſsful. All my Fear is, that the Nymph's elder Siſter is unmarried. If ſhe is, we are undone: But perhaps the care⯑leſs Fellow was her Husband; and then ſhe will let us go on.

The following Letter has given me a new Senſe of the Nature of my Writings. I have the deepeſt Regard to Conviction, and ſhall never act againſt it. However, I do not yet underſtand what good Man he thinks I have injured: But his Epiſtle has ſuch Weight in it, that I ſhall al⯑ways have Reſpect for his Admonition, and deſire the Continuance of it. I am not conſcious that I have ſpoke any Faults a Man may not mend if he pleaſes.

This Evening I thought fit to notifie to the Li⯑terati of this Houſe, and by that Means to all the World, That on Saturday the 15th of October next enſuing, I deſign to fix my firſt Table of Fame; and deſire that ſuch as are acquainted with the Characters of the Twelve moſt famous Men that have ever appeared in the World, would ſeud in their Liſts, or name any one Man for that Table, aſſigning alſo his Place at it be⯑fore that Time, upon Pain of having ſuch his Man of Fame poſtponed, or placed too high for ever. I ſhall not, upon any Application whatſo⯑ever, alter the Place which upon that Day I ſhall give to any of theſe Worthies. But where⯑as there are many who take upon them to ad⯑mire this Hero, or that Author, upon Second⯑hand, I expect each Subſcriber ſhould under⯑write his Reaſon for the Place he allots his Can⯑didate.

The Thing is of the laſt Conſequence; for we are about ſettling the greateſt Point that has ever been debated in any Age, and I ſhall take Pre⯑cautions accordingly. Let every Man who votes conſider, That he is now going to give away that, for which the Soldier gave up his Reſt, his Pleaſure, and his Life; the Scholar reſign'd his whole Series of Thought, his Midnight Repoſe, and his Morning Slumbers. In a Word, he is (as I may ſay) to be Judge of that After-Life, which noble Spirits prefer to their very real Be⯑ings. I hope I ſhall be forgiven therefore, if I make ſome Objections againſt their Jury, as they ſhall occur to me. The Whole of the Number [163] by whom they are to be try'd, are to be Scholars. I am perſwaded alſo, that Ariſtotle will be put up by all of that Claſs of Men. However, in Behalf of others, ſuch as wear the Livery of Ari⯑ſtotle, the Two famous Univerſities are called up⯑on on this Occaſion; but I except the Men of Queen's, Exeter, and Jeſus Colleges, in Oxford, who are not to be Electors, becauſe he ſhall not be crown'd from an implicit Faith in his Wri⯑tings, but receive his Honour from ſuch Judges as ſhall allow him to be cenſur'd. Upon this Election (as I was juſt now going to ſay) I baniſh all who think and ſpeak after others to concern themſelves in it. For which Reaſon all illiterate diſtant Admirers are forbidden to corrupt the Voices, by ſending, according to the new Mode, any poor Students Coals and Candles for their Votes in Behalf of ſuch Worthies as they pretend to eſteem. All News-Writers are alſo excluded, becauſe they conſider Fame as it is a Report which gives Foundation to the filling up their Rhapſodies, and not as it is the Emanation or Conſequence of good and evil Actions. Theſe are excepted againſt as juſtly as Butchers in caſe of Life and Death: Their Familiarity with the greateſt Names takes off the Delicacy of their Regard, as dealing in Blood makes the Lanii leſs tender of ſpilling it.

Letters from Lisbon of the 25th Inſtant, N. S. ſpeak of a Battle which has been fought near the River Cinca, in which General Staremberg had overthrown the Army of the Duke of Anjou. The Perſons who ſend this, excuſe their not gi⯑ving Particulars, becauſe they believed an Ac⯑count muſt have arrived here before we could hear from them. They had Advices from diffe⯑rent Parts, which concurr'd in the Circumſtances of the Action; after which the Army of his [164] Catholick Majeſty advanced as far as Fraga, and the Enemy retir'd to Saragoſſa. There are Re⯑ports, That the Duke of Anjou was in the En⯑gagement; but Letters of good Authority ſay, That Prince was on the Road towards the Camp when he receiv'd the News of the Defeat of his Troops. We promiſe our ſelves great Conſe⯑quences from ſuch an Advantage, obtain'd by ſo accompliſh'd a General as Staremberg; who, a⯑mong the Men of this preſent Age, is eſteemed the Third in Military Fame and Reputation.

I Am called off from publick Diſſertations by a Domeſtick Affair of great Importance, which is no leſs than the Diſpoſal of my Siſter Jenny for Life. The Girl is a Girl of great Merit, and pleaſing Converſation; but I being born of my Father's Firſt Wife, and ſhe of his Third, ſhe converſes with me rather like a Daughter than a Siſter. I have indeed told her, That if ſhe kept her Honour, and behaved her ſelf in ſuch Man⯑ner as became the Bickerſtaffs, I would get her an agreeable Man for her Husband; which was a Promiſe I made her after reading a Paſſage in Pliny's Epiſtles. That polite Author had been employ'd to find out a Conſort for his Friend's Daughter, and gives the following Character of the Man he had pitch'd upon:

A Woman that will give her ſelf Liberties, need not put her Parents to ſo much Trouble; for if ſhe does not poſſes theſe Ornaments in a Huſ⯑band, ſhe can ſupply her ſelf elſewhere. But this is not the Caſe of my Siſter Jenny, who, I may ſay without Vanity, is as unſpotted a Spinſter as any in Great Britain. I ſhall take this Occaſion to recommend the Conduct of our own Family in this Particular.

We have in the Genealogy of our Houſe, the Deſcriptions and Pictures of our Anceſtors from the Time of King Arthur; in whoſe Days there was one of my own Name, a Knight of his Round Table, and known by the Name of Sir Iſaac Bickerſtaff. He was low of Stature, and of a very ſwarthy Complexion, not unlike a Por⯑tugueze Jew. But he was more prudent than Men of that Height uſually are, and would often communicate to his Friends his Deſign of leng⯑thening and whitening his Poſterity. His eldeſt Son Ralph, for that was his Name, was for this Reaſon married to a Lady who had little elſe to recommend her, but that ſhe was very tall and very fair. The Iſſue of this Match, with the Help of high Shoes, made a tolerable Figure in the next Age; though the Complexion of the [166] Family was obſcure 'till the Fourth Generation from that Marriage. From which Time, till the Reign of William the Conqueror, the Females of our Houſe were famous for their Needle-work and fine Skins. In the Male Line, there happen⯑ed an unlucky Accident in the Reign of Richard the Third; the eldeſt Son of Philip, then Chief of the Family, being born with an Hump-back and very high Noſe. This was the more aſtoniſh⯑ing, becauſe none of his Forefathers ever had ſuch a Blemiſh; nor indeed was there any in the Neighbourhood of that Make, except the But⯑ler, who was noted for round Shoulders, and a Roman Noſe: What made the Noſe the leſs excuſable, was the remarkable Smallneſs of his Eyes.

Theſe ſeveral Defects were mended by ſucceed⯑ing Matches; the Eyes were open'd in the next Generation, and the Hump fell in a Century and half; but the greateſt Difficulty was, how to re⯑duce the Noſe; which I do not find was accom⯑pliſh'd till about the Middle of Henry the Seventh's Reign, or rather the Beginning of that of Henry the Eighth.

But while our Anceſtors were thus taken up in cultivating the Eyes and Noſe, the Face of the Bickerſtaffs fell down inſenſibly into Chin; which was not taken Notice of (their Thoughts being ſo much employ'd upon the more noble Fea⯑tures) till it became almoſt too long to be reme⯑died.

But Length of Time, and ſucceſſive Care in our Alliances, have cured this alſo, and reduced our Faces into that tolerable Oval which we en⯑joy at preſent. I would not be tedious in this Diſcourſe, but cannot but obſerve, that our Race ſuffer'd very much about Three Hundred Years ago, by the Marriage of one of our Heireſſes with an eminent Courtier, who gave us Spindle-Shanks, and Cramps in our Bones, inſomuch that we [167] did not recover our Health and Legs till Sir Wal⯑ter Bickerſtaff married Maud the Milk-Maid, of whom the then Garter King at Arms (a facetious Perſon) ſaid pleaſantly enough, That ſhe had ſpoil⯑ed our Blood, but mended our Conſtitutions.

After this Account of the Effect our prudent Choice of Matches has had upon our Perſons and Features, I cannot but obſerve, that there are daily Inſtances of as great Changes made by Mar⯑riage upon Men's Minds and Humours. One might wear any Paſſion out of a Family by Cul⯑ture, as skilful Gardiners blot a Colour out of a Tulip that hurts its Beauty. One might produce an affable Temper out of a Shrew, by grafting the Mild upon the Cholerick; or raiſe a Jack⯑pudding from a Prude, by inoculating Mirth and Melancholy. It is for Want of Care in the diſpo⯑ſing of our Children, with Regard to our Bodies and Minds, that we go into an Houſe and ſee ſuch different Complexions and Humours in the ſame Race and Family. But to me it is as plain as a Pikeſtaff, from what Mixture it is, that this Daughter ſilently lowers, t'other ſteals a kind Look at you, a third is exactly well behaved, a fourth a Splenatick, and a fifth a Coquet.

In this Diſpoſal of my Siſter, I have choſen, with an Eye to her being a Wit, and provided, that the Bridegroom be a Man of ſound and excellent Judgment, who will ſeldom mind what ſhe ſays when ſhe begins to harangue: For Jenny's only Imperfection is an Admiration of her Parts, which inclines her to be a little, but a ve⯑ry little, ſluttiſh; and you are ever to remark, that we are apt to cultivate moſt, and bring into Obſervation, what we think moſt excellent in our ſelves, or moſt capable of Improvement. Thus my Siſter, inſtead of conſulting her Glaſs and her Toilet for an Hour and an half after her private Devotions, ſits with her Noſe full of Snuff, and a Man's Nightcap on her Head, read⯑ing [168] in Plays and Romances. Her Wit ſhe thinks het Diſtinction; therefore knows nothing of the Skill of Dreſs, or making her Perſon agreeable. It would make you laugh to ſee me often with my Spectacles on, lacing her Stays; for ſhe is ſo very a Wit, that ſhe underſtands no ordinary Thing in the World.

For this Reaſon I have diſpoſed of her to a Man of Buſineſs, who will ſoon let her ſee, that to be well dreſs'd, in good Humour, and chearful in the Command of her Family, are the Arts and Sci⯑ences of Female Life. I could have beſtow'd her upon a Fine Gentleman, who extremely admir'd her Wit, and would have given her a Coach and Six: But I found it abſolutely neceſſary to croſs the Strain; for had they met, they had eternally been Rivals in Diſcourſe, and in continual Contention for the Superiority of Underſtanding, and brought forth Criticks, Pedants, or pretty good Poets. As it is, I expect an Offspring fit for the Habitation of City, Town, or Country; Creatures that are docile and tractable in whatever we put 'em to.

To convince Men of the Neceſſity of taking this Method, let any one, even below the Skill of an Aſtrologer, behold the Turn of Faces he meets as ſoon as he paſſes Cheapſide-Conduit, and you ſee a deep Attention and a certain unthinking Sharpneſs in every Countenance. They look at⯑tentive, but their Thoughts are engaged on mean Purpoſes. To me it is very apparent when I ſee a Citizen paſs by, whether his Head is upon Woollen, Silks, Iron, Sugar, Indigo, or Stocks. Now, this Trace of Thought appears or lies hid in the Race for Two or Three Generations.

I know at this Time a Perſon of a vaſt Eſtate, who is the immediate Deſcendant of a Fine Gen⯑tleman, but the Great-Grandſon of a Broker, in whom his Anceſtor is now revived. He is a very honeſt Gentleman in his Principles, but can't for his Blood talk fairly: He is heartily ſorry for it; [169] but he cheats by Conſtitution, and over-reaches by Inſtinct.

The Happineſs of the Man who Marries my Siſter will be, that he has no Faults to correct in her but her own, a little Byaſs of Fancy, or Par⯑ticularity of Manners, which grew in her ſelf, and can be amended by her. From ſuch an un⯑tainted Couple, we can hope to have our Family riſe to its ancient Splendor of Face, Air, Counte⯑nance, Manner and Shape, without diſcovering the Product of Ten Nations in one Houſe. Oba⯑diah Greenhat ſays, he never comes into any Company in England, but he diſtinguiſhes the different Nations of which we are compos'd: There is ſcarce ſuch a living Creature as a True Britain. We ſit down indeed all Friends, Ac⯑quaintance, and Neighbours; but after Two Bot⯑tles, you ſee a Dane ſtart up and ſwear, The Kingdom is his own. A Saxon drinks up the whole Quart, and ſwears, He'll diſpute that with him. A Norman [...]ells 'em both, He'll aſſert his Liberty: And a Welſhman cries, They are all Fo⯑reigners and Intruders of Yeſterday, and beats 'em out of the Room. Such Accidents happen frequently among Neighbours Children, and Cou⯑ſin-Germans. For which Reaſon I ſay, ſtudy your Race, or the Soil of your Family will dwin⯑dle into Cits or 'Squires, or run up into Wits or Madmen.

IT is a Thing very much to be lamented, that a Man muſt uſe a certain Cunning to caution People againſt what it is their Intereſt to avoid. [170] All Men will allow, that it is a great and heroick Work to correct Men's Errors, and at the Price of being called a Common Enemy, to go on in being a Common Friend to my Fellow Subjects and Citizens. But I am forced in this Work to revolve the ſame Thing in Ten Thouſand Lights, and caſt 'em in as many Forms, to come at Men's Minds and Affections, in order to lead the Inno⯑cent in Safety, as well as diſappoint the Artifices of Betrayers. Since therefore I can make no Impreſſion upon the offending Side, I ſhall turn my Obſervations upon the Offended; That is to ſay, I muſt whip my Children for going into bad Company, inſtead of railing at bad Company for inſnaring my Children.

The greateſt Misfortune Men fall into, ariſe from themſelves; and that Temper, which is call'd very often, tho' with great Injuſtice, Good Nature, is the Source of a numberleſs Train of Evils. For which Reaſon we are to take this as a Rule, That no Action is commendable which is not voluntary; and we have made this a Maxim, That Man who is commonly call'd Good Natured, is hardly to be thanked for any Thing he does, be⯑cauſe half that is acted about him, is done rather by his Sufferance than Approbation. It is generally a Lazineſs of Diſpoſition, which chuſes rather to let Things paſs the worſt Way, than to go through the Pain of Examination. It muſt be confeſſed, ſuch a one has ſo great a Benevolence in him, that he bears a Thouſand Uneaſmeſſes, rather than he will incommode others; nay often when he has juſt Reaſon to be offended, chuſes to ſit down with a ſmall Injury, than bring it into Reprehen⯑ſion, out of pure Compaſſion to the Offender. Such a Perſon has it uſually ſaid of him, He is no Man's Enemy but his own; which is in Ef⯑fect ſaying, He is a Friend to every Man but himſelf and his Friends: For by a natural Conſe⯑quence of his neglecting himſelf, he either inca⯑pacitates [171] himſelf to be another's Friend, or makes others ceaſe to be his. If I take no Care of my own Affairs, no Man that is my Friend, can take it ill if I am negligent alſo of his. This ſoft Diſ⯑poſition, if it continues uncorrected, throws Men into a Sea of Difficulties.

There is Euphuſius, with all the good Qualities in the World, deſerves well of no Body. That univerſal Good will which is ſo ſtrong in him, ex⯑poſes him to the Aſſault of every Invader upon his Time, his Converſation, and his Property. His Diet is Butchers Meat, his Wenches are in plain Pinners and Norwich Crapes, his Dreſs like other People, his Income great, and yet has he ſel⯑dom a Guinea at Command. From theſe eaſy Gentlemen, are collected Eſtates by Servants or Gameſters; which latter Fraternity are excuſable, when we think of this Clan, who ſeems born to be their Prey. All therefore of the Family of Actaeon are to take Notice, That they are hereby given up to the Brethren of the Induſtry, with this Reſerve only, That they are to be marked as ſtricken Deer, not for their own Sakes, but to preſerve the Herd from following them, and coming within the Scent.

I am obliged to leave this important Subject, without telling whoſe Quarters are ſever'd, who has the Humbles, who the Haunch, and who the Legs, of the laſt Stag that was pulled down; but this is only deferred in Hopes my Deer will make their Eſcape without more Admonitions or Exam⯑ples, of which they have had (in mine and the Town's Opinion) too great a Plenty. I muſt, I ſay, at preſent go to other Matters of Moment.

The Lady has anſwer'd the Letter of Mr. Alex⯑ander Landlord, which was publiſh'd on Thurſday laſt, but in ſuch a Manner as I do not think fit to proceed in the Affair; for ſhe has plainly told him, That Love is her Deſign, but Marria [...] [172] her Averſion. Bleſs me! What is this Age come to, that People can think to make a Pimp of an Aſtronomer!

I ſhall not promote ſuch Deſigns, but ſhall leave her to find out her Admirer, while I ſpeak to ano⯑ther Caſe ſent to me by a Letter of September 30. ſubſcrib'd, Lovewell Barebones, where the Author deſires me to ſuſpend my Care of the Dead, till I have done ſomething for the Dying. His Caſe is, That the Lady he loves is ever accompanied by a Kinſwoman, one of thoſe gay cunning Women, who prevent all the Love which is not addreſs'd to themſelves. This Creature takes upon her in his Miſtreſs's Preſence to ask him, Whether Mrs. Flo⯑rimel (that is the cruel One's Name) is not very handſome; upon which he looks ſilly; then they both laugh our, and ſhe will tell him, That Mrs. Florimel had an equal Paſſion for him, but defined him not to expect the firſt Time to be ad⯑mitted in private; but that now he was at Li⯑berty before her only, who was her Friend, to ſpeak his Mind, and that his Miſtreſs expected it. Upon which Florimel acts a Virgin-Confuſion, and with ſome Diſorder waits his Speech. Here ever follows a deep Silence; after which a loud Laugh. Mr. Barebones applies himſelf to me on this Occaſion. All the Advice I can give him is to find a Lover for the Confident, for there is no other Bribe will prevail; and I ſee by her Carri⯑age, that it is no hard Matter, for ſhe is too gay to have a particular Paſſion, or to want a general One.

Some Days ago the Town had a full Charge laid againſt my Eſſays, and printed at large. I altered not one Word of what he of the contrary Opinion ſaid; but have blotted out ſome warm Things ſaid for me; therefore pleaſe to hear the Council for the Defendant, though I ſhall be ſo no otherwiſe than to take a middle Way, and, if poſſible, keep Commendations from being inſipid [173] to Men's Taſt, or Raillery pernicious to their Characters.

Letters from the Camp at Havre of the 7th Inſtant, N. S. adviſe, That the Trenches were o⯑pen'd before Mons on the 27th of the laſt Month, and the Approaches were carried on at Two At⯑tacks with great Application and Succeſs, not⯑withſtanding the Rains which had fallen; That the Beſiegers had made themſelves Maſters of ſe⯑veral Redoubts, and other Outworks, and had advanced the Approaches within Ten Paces of the Counterſcarps of the Hornwork, Lieutenant-General Cadogan received a ſlight Wound in the Neck ſoon after opening the Trenches.

The Enemy were throwing up Intrenchments between Queſnoy and Valenciennes, and the Che⯑valier de Luxemburg was encamped near Charle⯑roy with a Body of 10000 Men. Advices from Catalonia by the Way of Genoa import, That Count Staremberg having paſs'd the Segra, ad⯑vanced towards Belagnier, which Place he took after a few Hours Reſiſtance, and made the Gar⯑riſon, conſiſting of Three Spaniſh Battalions, Pri⯑ſoners of War. Letters from Bern ſay, That the Army under the Command of Count Thaun had began to repaſs the Mountains, and would ſhortly evacuate Savoy.

AS bad as the World is, I find by very ſtrict Obſervation upon Virtue and Vice, that if Men appeared no worſe than they really are, I ſhould have leſs Work than at preſent I am obli⯑ged to undertake for their Reformation. They have generally taken up a kind of inverted Am⯑bition, and affect even Faults and Imperfections of which they are innocent. The other Day in a Coffee-houſe I ſtood by a young Heir, with a freſh, ſanguine, and healthy Look, who enter⯑tained us with an Account of his Claps and his Diet-Drink; though, to my Knowledge, he is as ſound as any of his Tenants.

This worthy Youth put me into Reflections up⯑on that Subject; and I obſerved the fantaſtical Humour to be ſo general, that there is hardly a Man who is not more or leſs tainted with it. The Firſt of this Order of Men are the Valetudinarians, who are never in Health, but complain of Want of Stomach or Reſt every Day till Noon, and then de⯑vour all which comes before them. Lady Dainty is convinced, that it is neceſſary for a Gentlewoman to be out of Order; and to preſerve that Chara⯑cter, ſhe dines every Day in her Cloſet at Twelve, that ſhe may become her Table at Two, and be unable to eat in Publick. About five Years ago, I remember it was the Faſhion to be ſhort-ſighted: A Man would not own an Acquaintance 'till he had firſt examined him with his Glaſs. At a Lady's Entrance into the Play-houſe, you might ſee Tubes immediately levelled at her from every [177] Quarter of the Pit and Side-Boxes. However, that Mode of Infirmity is out, and the Age has recovered its Sight: But the Blind ſeem to be ſucceeded by the Lame, and a janty Limp is the preſent Beauty. I think I have formerly obſer⯑ved, a Cane is Part of the Dreſs of a Prig, and always worn upon a Button, for fear he ſhould be thought to have an Occaſion for it, or be e⯑ſteemed really, and not genteely a Cripple. I have conſidered, but could never find out the Bottom of this Vanity. I indeed have heard of a Gaſcon General, who by the lucky grazing of a Bullet on the Roll of his Stocking, took Occaſion to halt all his Life after. But as for our peacea⯑ble Cripples, I know no Foundation for their Behaviour, without it may be ſuppoſed that in this Warlike Age, ſome think a Cane the next Honour to a Wooden Leg. This Sort of Affecta⯑tion I have known run from one Limb or Mem⯑ber to another. Before the Limpers came in, I remember a Race of Liſpers, fine Perſons, who took an Averſion to particular Letters in our Lan⯑guage: Some never uttered the Letter H; and o⯑thers had as mortal an Averſion to S. Others have had their faſhionable Defect in their Ears, and would make you repeat all you ſaid twice over. I know an ancient Friend of mine, whoſe Table is every Day ſurrounded with Flatterers, that makes uſe of this, ſometimes as a Piece of Grandeur, and at others as an Art, to make them repeat their Commendations. Such Affectations have been indeed in the World in ancient Times; but they fell into them out of politick Ends. Alexander the Great had a wry Neck, which made it the Faſhion in his Court to carry their Heads on one Side when they came into the Pre⯑ſence. One who thought to outſhine the whole Court, carried his Head ſo over-complaiſantly, that this martial Prince gave him ſo great a Box [178] on the Ear, as ſet all the Heads of the Court up⯑right.

This Humour takes Place in our Minds as well as Bodies. I know at this Time a young Gentle⯑man, who talks atheiſtically all Day in Coffee-houſes, and in his Degrees of Underſtanding ſets up for a Free Thinker; though it can be proved upon him, he ſays his Prayers every Morning and Evening. But this Claſs of modern Wits I ſhall reſerve for a Chapter by it ſelf.

Of the like Turn are all your Marriage-Haters, who rail at the Nooſe, at the Words, For ever and Aye, and at the ſame Time are ſecretly pining for ſome young Thing or other that makes their Hearts ake by her Refuſal. The next to theſe, are ſuch as pretend to govern their Wives, and boaſt how ill they uſe them; when at the ſame Time, go to their Houſes, and you ſhall ſee them ſtep as if they feared making a Noiſe, and are as fond as an Alderman. I don't know, but ſometimes theſe Pretences may ariſe from a Deſire to conceal a contrary Defect than that they ſet up for. I re⯑member, when I was a young Fellow, we had a Companion of a very fearful Complexion, who, when we ſate in to drink, would deſire us to take his Sword from him when he grew fuddled, for 'twas his Misfortune to be quarrelſome.

There are many, many of theſe Evils, which demand my Obſervation; but becauſe I have of late been thought ſomewhat too Satyrical, I ſhall give them Warning, and declare to the whole World, that they are not true, but falſe Hypo⯑crites; and make it out, that they are good Men in their Hearts. The Motive of this monſtrous Affectation in the above-mentioned, and the like Particulars, I take to proceed from that noble Thirſt of Fame and Reputation which is planted in the Hearts of all Men. As this produces ele⯑gant Writings and gallant Actions in Men of great Abilities, it alſo brings forth ſpurious Pro⯑ductions [179] in Men who are not capable of diſtin⯑guiſhing themſelves by Things which are really Praiſe-worthy. As the Deſire of Fame in Men of true Wit and Gallantry ſhows it ſelf in pro⯑per Inſtances, the ſame Deſire in Men who have the Ambition without proper Faculties, runs wild, and diſcovers it ſelf in a Thouſand Extra⯑vagancies, by which they would ſignalize them⯑ſelves from other, and gain a Set of Admirers. When I was a middle-aged Man, there were ma⯑ny Societies of ambitious young Men in England, who, in their Purſuits after Fame, were every Night employed in roaſting Porters, ſmoaking Coblers, Knocking down Watchmen, overturn⯑ing Conſtables, breaking Windows, blackening Sign-Poſts, in the like immortal Enterprizes, that diſperſed their Reputation throughout the whole Kingdom. One could hardly find a Knocker at a Door in a whole Street after a Midnight Expedition of theſe Beaux Eſprits. I was lately very much ſurpriſed by an Account of my Maid, who entered my Bed-Chamber this Morn⯑ing in a very great Fright, and told me, She was afraid my Palour was haunted; for that ſhe had found ſeveral Panes of my Windows broken, and the Floor ſtrowed with Half-pence. I have not yet a full Light into this new Way, but am apt to think, that it is a generous Piece of Wit that ſome of my Contemporaries make Uſe of, to break Windows, and leave Money to pay for them.

I have no Manner of News, more than what she whole Town had t'other Day; except that I have the Original Letter of the Mareſchal Bouf⯑flers to the French King, after the late Battle in the Woods, which I tranſlate for the Benefit of the Engliſh Reader.

AS your Painters, who deal in Hiſtory-Pieces, often entertain themſelves upon broken Sketches, and ſmaller Flouriſhes of the Pencil; ſo I find ſome Relief in ſtriking out Miſcellane⯑ous Hints, and ſudden Starts of Fancy, without any Order or Connexion, after having ſpent my [181] ſelf on more regular and elaborate Diſſertations. I am at preſent in this eaſy State of Mind ſat down to my Sctutore; where, for the better Diſ⯑poſition of my Correſpondence, I have writ upon every Drawer the proper Title of its Contents, as Hypocriſy, Dice, Patches, Politicks, Love, Duels, and ſo forth. My various Advices are ranged under ſuch ſeveral Heads, ſaving only that I have a particular Box for Pacolet, and ano⯑ther for Monoculas. I cannot but obſerve, that my Duel-Box, which is filled by the Letter'd Men of Honour, is ſo very ill ſpelt, that it is hard to decipher their Writings. My Love Box, though on a quite contrary Subject, filled with the Works of the faireſt Hands in Great Britain, is almoſt as unintelligible. The private Drawer, which is ſacred to Politicks, has in it ſome of the moſt refined Panegyricks and Satyrs that any Age has produced.

I have now before me ſeveral Recommenda⯑tions for Places at my Table of Fame: Three of them are of an extraordinary Nature, in which I find I am miſunderſtood, and ſhall therefore beg Leave to produce them. They are from a Quaker, a Courtier, and a Citizen.

In Anſwer to my good Friend Ezekiel, I muſt ſtand to it, that I cannot break my Rule for the Sake of James Naylor; not knowing, whether Alexander the Great, who is a Cholerick Hero, won't reſent his ſitting at the upper End of the Table with his Hat on.

But to my Courtier:

This Gentleman ſeems to have the true Spirit, without the Formality of an Under-Courtier; therefore I ſhall be plain with him, and let him leave the Name of his Courtier, and 100 l. in Morphew's Hands: If I can take it, I will.

My Citizen writes the following:

I ſhall have all due Regard to this Gentleman's Recommendation; but cannot forbear obſerving, how wonderfully this Sort of Style is adapted for the Diſpatch of Buſineſs, by leaving out inſignifi⯑cant Particles: Beſides that, the dropping of the firſt Perſon is an artful Way to diſengage a Man from the Guilt of raſh Words or Promiſes. But I am to conſider, that a Citizen's Reputation is Credit, not Fame; and am to leave theſe lofty Subjects for a Matter of private Concern in the next Letter before me.

[184] I think the Writer of this Letter has put the Matter in as good a Dreſs as I can for him; yet I cannot but add my Applauſe to what this diſtreſ⯑ſed Man has ſaid. There is not a more uſeful Man in a Commonwealth than a good Phyſician; and by Conſequence no worthier a Perſon than he that uſes his Skill with Generoſity; even to Perſons of Condition, and Compaſſion to thoſe who are in Want: Which is the Behaviour of Hippocrates, who ſhows as much Liberality in his Practice, as he does Wit in his Converſation and Skill in his Profeſſion. A wealthy Doctor, who can help a poor Man, and will not without a Fee, has leſs Senſe of Humanity than a poor Ruffian, who kills a rich Man to ſupply his Ne⯑ceſſities. It is ſomething monſtrous, to conſider a Man of a liberal Education tearing out the Bowels of a poor Family, by taking for a Viſit what would keep them a Week. Hippocrates needs not the Compariſon of ſuch Extortion to ſet off his Generoſity; but I mention his Genero⯑ſity to add Shame to ſuch Extortion.

MY Siſter Jenny's Lover, the honeſt Tranquil⯑lus, (for that ſhall be his Name) has been impatient with me to diſpatch the neceſſary Di⯑rections for his Marriage; that while I am taken up with imaginary Schemes (as he called them) he might not burn with real Deſire, and the Tor⯑ture of Expectation. When I had reprimanded him for the Ardor wherein he expreſſed him⯑ſelf, which I thought had not enough of that Ve⯑neration [187] with which the Marriage-Bed is to be aſcended, I told him, the Day of his Nuptials ſhould be on the Saturday following, which was the 8th Inſtant. On the 7th in the Evening, poor Jenny came into my Chamber, and having her Heart full of the great Change of Life from a Virgin Condition to that of a Wife, ſhe long ſate ſilent. I ſaw ſhe expected me to entertain her on this important Subject, which was too delicate a Circumſtance for her ſelf to touch upon; whereupon I relieved her Modeſty in the follow⯑ing Manner: Siſter, (ſaid I) you are now going from me; and be contented, that you leave the Company of a talkative old Man, for that of a ſober young One: But take this along with you, That there is no Mean in the State you are en⯑tring into, but you are to be exquiſitely happy or miſerable, and your Fortune in this Way of Life will be wholly of your own making. In all the Marriages I have ever ſeen, (moſt of which have been unhappy Ones) the great Cauſe of Evil has proceeded from ſlight Occaſions; and I take it to be the firſt Maxim in a married Condition, That you are to be above Trifles. When Two Perſons have ſo good an Opinion of each other as to come together for Life, they will not differ in Matters of Importance, becauſe they think of each other with Reſpect, in Regard to all Things of Conſideration that may affect them, and are prepared for mutual Aſſiſtance and Relief in ſuch Occurrences; but for leſs Occaſions, they have formed no Reſolu⯑tions, but leave their Minds unprepared.

This, dear Jenny, is the Reaſon that the Quar⯑rel between Sir Harry Willit and his Lady, which began about her Squirrel, is irreconcilable: Sir Harry was reading a grave Author; ſhe runs into his Study, and in a playing Humour, claps the Squirrel upon the Folio: He threw the Ani⯑mal in a Rage on the Floor; ſhe ſnatches it up again, calls Sir Harry a ſowr Pedant, without [188] good Nature or good Manners. This caſt him into ſuch a Rage, that he threw down the Table before him, kick'd the Book round the Room; then recollected himſelf: Lord, Ma⯑dam, ſaid he, Why did you run into ſuch Ex⯑preſſions? I was, ſaid he, in the higheſt Delight with that Author when you clap'd your Squirrel upon my Book; and ſmiling, added upon Re⯑collection, I have a great Reſpect for your Fa⯑vourite, and pray let us all be Friends. My Lady was ſo far from accepting this Apology, that ſhe immediately conceived a Reſolution to keep him under for ever; and with a ſerious Air, replied, There is no Regard to be had to what a Man ſays, who can fall into ſo indecent a Rage, and ſuch an abject Submiſſion, in the ſame Mo⯑ment, for which I abſolutely deſpiſe you. Upon which ſhe ruſhed out of the Room. Sir Harry ſtayed ſome Minutes behind to think and com⯑mand himſelf; after which he followed her into her Bed-chamber, where ſhe was proſtrate upon the Bed, tearing her Hair, and naming Twenty Coxcombs who would have uſed her otherwiſe. This provoked him to ſo high a Degree, that he forbore nothing but Beating her; and all the Ser⯑vants in the Family were at their ſeveral Stations liſtening, while the beſt Man and Woman, the beſt Maſter and Miſtreſs, defamed each other in a Way that is not be repeated even at Billingſ⯑gate. You know this ended in an immediate Se⯑paration: She longs to return Home, but knows not how to do it: He invites her Home every Day, and lies with every Woman he can get. Her Husband requires no Submiſſion of her; but ſhe thinks her very Return will argue ſhe is to blame, which ſhe is reſolved to be for ever, rather than acknowledge it.

Thus, dear Jenny, my great Advice to you is, Be guarded againſt giving or receiving little Pro⯑vocations. Great Matters of Offence I have no [189] Reaſon to fear, either from you or your Husband. After this, we turned our Diſcourſe into a more gay Style, and parted: But before we did ſo, I made her reſign her Snuff-Box for ever, and half drown her ſelf with waſhing away the Stench of the Muſty.

But the Wedding Morning arrived, and our Family being very numerous, there was no a⯑voiding the Inconvenience of making the Cere⯑mony and Feſtival more publick, than the mo⯑dern Way of celebrating them makes me approve of. The Bride next Morning came out of her Chamber, dreſſed with all the Art and Care that Mrs. Toilet the Tire-Woman could beſtow on her. She was on her Wedding-Day Three and twenty: Her Perſon is far from what we call a regular Beauty; but a certain Sweetneſs in her Countenance, an Eaſe in her Shape and Motion, with an unaffected Modeſty in her Looks, had At⯑tractions beyond what Symmetry and Exactneſs can inſpire without the Addition of theſe Endow⯑ments. When her Lover entered the Room, her Features fluſh'd with Shame and Joy; and the in⯑genuous Manner, ſo full of Paſſion and of Awe, with which Tranquillus approached to ſalute her, gave me good Omens of his future Behaviour to⯑wards her. The Wedding was wholly under my Care. After the Ceremony at Church, I was reſol⯑ved to entertain the Company with a Dinner ſuita⯑ble to the Occaſion, and pitch'd upon the Apollo, at the Old Devil at Temple-Bar, as a Place ſacred to Mirth, temper'd with Diſcretion, where Ben-John⯑ſon and his Sons uſed to make their liberal Meetings. Here the Chief of the Staffian Race appeared; and as ſoon as the Company were come into that am⯑ple Room, Lepidus Wagſtaff began to make me Compliments for chuſing that Place, and fell in⯑to a Diſcourſe upon the Subject of Pleaſure and Entertainment, drawn from the Rules of Ben's Club, which are in Gold Letters over the Chim⯑ney. [190] Lepidus has a Way very uncommon, and ſpeaks on Subjects, on which any Man elſe would certainly offend, with great Dexterity. He gave us a large Account of the publick Meetings of all the well-turned Minds who had paſſed through this Life in Ages paſt, and cloſed his pleaſing Narrative with a Diſcourſe on Marriage, and a Repetition of the following Verſes out of Milton:

In theſe Verſes, all the Images that can come into a young Woman's Head on ſuch an Occaſion, are raiſed; but that in ſo chaſt and elegant a Manner, that the Bride thanked him for his a⯑greeable Talk, and we ſate down to Dinner.

Among the reſt of the Company, there was got in a Fellow you call a Wag. This ingenious Per⯑ſon is the uſual Life of all Feaſts and Merriments, by ſpeaking Abſurdities, and putting every Body of Breeding and Modeſty out of Countenance. As ſoon as we ſate down, he drank to the Bride's [191] Diverſion that Night, and then made Twenty double Meanings on the Word Thing. We are the beſt bred Family, for one ſo numerous, in this Kingdom; and indeed we ſhould all of us have been as much out of Countenance as the Bride, but that we were relieved by an honeſt rough Relation of ours at the lower End of the Table, who is a Lieutenant of Marines. This Soldier and Sailor had good plain Senſe, and ſaw what was wrong as well as another; he had a Way of looking at his Plate, and ſpeaking aloud in an inward Manner; and whenever the Wag mentioned the Word Thing, or the Words, That ſame, the Lieutenant in that Voice cried, Knock him down. The merry Man wondring, angry, and looking round, was the Diverſion of the Table. When he offered to recover, and ſay, To the Bride's beſt Thoughts, Knock him down, ſays the Lieutenant, and ſo on. This ſilly Hu⯑mour diverted, and ſaved us from the fulſom Entertainment of an ill-bred Coxcomb, and the Bride drank the Lieutenant's Health. We re⯑turned to my Lodging, and Tranquillus led his Wife to her Apartment, without the Ceremony of throwing the Stocking, which generally coſts Two or Three Maidenheads without any Cere⯑mony at all.

THIS learned Board has complained to me of the exorbitant Price of late Years put upon Books, and conſequently on Learning, which has raiſed the Reward demanded by learned Men [192] for their Advice and Labour. In order to regu⯑late and fix a Standard in theſe Matters; Divines, Phyſicians, and Lawyers, have ſent in large Pro⯑poſals, which are of great Light and Inſtruction. From the Peruſal of theſe Memorials, I am come to this immediate Reſolution, till I have Leiſure to treat the Matter at large; viz. In Divinity, Fathers ſhall be valued according to their Anti⯑quity; School-men by the Pound Weight; and Sermons by their Goodneſs. In my own Pro⯑feſſion, which is moſtly Phyſick, Authors ſhall be rated according to their Language. The Greek is ſo rarely underſtood, and the Engliſh ſo well, I judge them of no Value, ſo that only Latin ſhall bear a Price, and that too according to its Pu⯑rity, and as it ſerves beſt for Preſcription. In Law, the Value muſt be ſet according to the In⯑tricacy and Obſcurity of the Author, and Black⯑neſs of the Letter; provided always, that the Binding be of Calves-Skin. This Method I ſhall ſettle alſo with Relation to all other Writings; inſomuch that even theſe our Lucubrations, though hereafter printed by Aldus, Elzevir, or Stephanus, ſhall not advance above one ſingle Penny.

It will be allowed me, that I have all along ſhowed great Reſpect in Matters which concern the Fair Sex; but the Inhumanity with which the Author of the following Letter has been uſed, is not to be ſuffered.

Soon after the Receipt of this Epiſtle, I heard a very gentle Knock at my Door My Maid went down, and brought up Word, That a tall, lean, black Man, well dreſſed, who ſaid he had not the Honour to be acquainted with me, deſired to be admitted. I bid her ſhow him up, met him at my Chamber-Door, and then fell back a few Paces. He approach'd me with great Reſpect, and told me with a low Voice, He was the Gen⯑tleman that had been ſeated upon the Round Stool. I immediately recollected, that there was a Joint [194] Stool in my Chamber, which I was afraid he might take for an Inſtrument of Diſtinction, and therefore winked at my Boy to carry it into my Cloſet. I then took him by the Hand, and led him to the upper End of my Room, where I placed him in my great Elbow-Chair; at the ſame Time drawing another without Arms to it, for my ſelf to ſit by him. I then asked him, At what Time this Misfortune befel him? He anſwer'd, Between the Hours of Seven and Eight in the Evening. I further demanded of him, What he had eat or drank that Day? He replied, Nothing but a Diſh of Water-gruel, with a few Plumbs in it. In the next Place, I felt his Pulſe, which was very low and languiſhing. Theſe Circumſtances con⯑firmed me in an Opinion which I had entertained upon the firſt reading of his Letter, that the Gentleman was far gone in the Spleen. I therefore adviſed him to riſe the next Morning and plunge into the Cold Bath, there to remain under Water 'till he was almoſt drowned. This I ordered him to repeat Six Days ſucceſſively; and on the Seventh, to repair at the wonted Hour to my Lady Haughty's, and to acquaint me afterwards with what he ſhall meet with there; and particularly to tell me, whether be ſhall think they ſtared upon him ſo much as the Time before. The Gentleman ſmiled; and by his Way of talking to me, ſhewed himſelf a Man of ex⯑cellent Senſe in all Particulars, unleſs when a Cane-Chair, a Round or a Joint-Stool, were ſpo⯑ken of. He opened his Heart to me at the ſame Time concerning ſeveral other Grievances; ſuch as, being overlook'd in publick Aſſemblies, having his Bows unanſwer'd, being helped laſt at Table, and placed at the back Part of a Coach; with many other Diſtreſſes, which have wither'd his Countenance, and worn him to a Skeleton. Find⯑ing him a Man of Reaſon, I entered into the Bottom of his Diſtemper. Sir, (ſaid I) there are [195] more of your Conſtitution in this Iſland of Great Britain, than in any other Part of the World; and I beg the Favour of you to tell me, Whether you do not obſerve, that you meet with moſt Affronts in rainy Days? He anſwered candidly, That he had long obſerved, that People were leſs ſawcy in Sunſhine, than in cloudy Weather. Upon which I told him plainly, his Diſtemper was the Spleen; and that though the World was very ill-natured, it was not ſo bad as he believed it. I further aſſured him, That his Uſe of the Cold Bath, with a Courſe of Steel which I ſhould preſcribe him, would certainly cure moſt of his Acquaintance of their Rudeneſs, ill Behaviour, and Impertinence. My Patient ſmiled, and pro⯑miſed to obſerve my Preſcriptions, not forgetting to give me an Account of their Operation. This Diſtemper being pretty Epidemical, I ſhall, for the Benefit of Mankind, give the Publick an Account of the Progreſs I make in the Cure of it.

The Author of the following Letter behaves himſelf ſo ingenuouſly, that I cannot defer an⯑ſwering him any longer.

Not doubting but the Caſe is as the Gentleman repreſents, I do hereby order Mr. Morphew to de⯑liver him out a Licence, upon paying his Fees, which ſhall empower him to wear a Cane till the 13th of March next; Five Months being the moſt I can allow for a Sprain.

We received this Morning a Mail from Hol⯑land, which brings Advice, That the Siege of Mons is carried on with ſo great Vigour and Bra⯑very, that we hope very ſuddenly to be Maſters of the Place. All Things neceſſary being prepa⯑red for making the Aſſault on the Hornwork and Ravelin of the Attack of Bertamont, the Charge began with the Fire of Bombs and Grenades, which was ſo hot, that the Enemy quitted their Poſt, and we lodged our ſelves on thoſe Works with⯑out Oppoſition. During this Storm, one of our Bombs fell into a Magazine of the Enemy, and blew it up. There are Advices which ſay, the Court of France had made new Offers of Peace to the Confederates; but this Intelligence wants Confirmation.

THere are two Kinds of Immortality; that which the Soul really enjoys after this Life, and that Imaginary Exiſtence by which Men live in their Fame and Reputation. The beſt and greateſt Actions have proceeded from the Pro⯑ſpect of the one or the other of theſe; but my Deſign is to treat only of thoſe who have chiefly propoſed to themſelves the latter as the principal Reward of their Labours. It was for this Rea⯑ſon that I excluded from my Tables of Fame all the great Founders and Votaries of Religion; and it is for this Reaſon alſo that I am more than ordinarily anxious to do Juſtice to the Perſons of whom I am now going to ſpeak; for ſince Fame was the only End of all their Enterprizes and Studies, a Man cannot be too ſcrupulous in allot⯑ting them their due Proportion of it. It was this Conſideration which made me call the whole Body of the Learned to my Aſſiſtance; to many of whom I muſt own my Obligations for the Ca⯑talogues of illuſtrious Perſons which they have ſent me in upon this Occaſion. I Yeſterday em⯑ployed the whole Afternoon in comparing them with each other; which made ſo ſtrong an Im⯑preſſion upon my Imagination, that they broke [198] my Sleep for the firſt Part of the following Night, and at length threw me into a very agree⯑able Viſion, which I ſhall beg Leave to deſcribe in all its Particulars.

I dreamed that I was conveyed into a wide and boundleſs Plain, that was covered with prodi⯑gious Multitudes of People, which no Man could number. In the Midſt of it there ſtood a Moun⯑tain, with its Head above the Clouds. The Sides were extremely ſteep, and of ſuch a particular Structure, that no Creature, which was not made in an Humane Figure, could poſſibly aſcend it. On a ſudden there was heard from the Top of it a Sound like that of a Trumpet; but ſo exceed⯑ing ſweet and harmonious, that it filled the Hearts of thoſe who heard it with Raptures, and gave ſuch high and delightful Senſations, as ſeemed to animate and raiſe Humane Nature a⯑bove it ſelf. This made me very much amazed to find ſo very few in that innumerable Multi⯑tude, who had Ears fine enough to hear or reliſh this Muſick with Pleaſure: But my Wonder a⯑bated, when, upon looking round me, I ſaw moſt of them attentive to Three Sirens cloathed like Goddeſſes, and diſtinguiſhed by the Names of Sloth, Ignorance, and Pleaſure. They were ſeated on Three Rocks, amidſt a beautiful Variety of Groves, Meadows, and Rivulets, that lay on the Borders of the Mountain. While the baſe and groveling Multitude of different Nations, Ranks and Ages, were liſtening to the ſedelu⯑ſive Deities, thoſe of a more erect Aſpect, and exalted Spirit, ſeparated themſelves from the reſt, and marched in great Bodies towards the Moun⯑tain; from whence they heard the Sound, which ſtill grew ſweeter the more they liſtened to it.

On a ſudden, methought this ſelect Band ſprang forward, with a Reſolution to climb the Aſcent, and follow the Call of that Heavenly [199] Muſick. Every one took ſomething with him that he thought might be of Aſſiſtance to him in his March. Several had their Swords drawn, ſome carried Rolls of Paper in their Hands, ſome had Compaſſes, others Quadrants, others Teleſ⯑copes, and others Pencils; ſome had Lawrels on their Heads, and others Buskins on their Legs: In ſhort, there was ſcarce any Inſtrument of a Mechanick Art or Liberal Science, which was not made Uſe of on this Occaſion. My good Daemon, who ſtood at my Right Hand during the Courſe of this whole Viſion, obſerving in me a burning Deſire to join that glorious Company, told me, he highly approved that generous Ar⯑dor with which I ſeemed tranſported; but at the ſame Time adviſed me to cover my Face with a Mask all the while I was to labour on the Aſcent. I took his Counſel, without inquiring into his Reaſons. The whole Body now broke into dif⯑ferent Parties, and began to climb the Precipice by Ten Thouſand different Paths. Several got into little Allies, which did not reach far up the Hill, before they ended and led no further: And I ob⯑ſerved, That moſt of the Artizans, which conſidera⯑bly diminiſh'd our Number, fell into theſe Paths.

We left another conſiderable Body of Adven⯑turers behind us, who thought they had diſco⯑vered By-Ways up the Hill, which proved ſo very intricate and perplexed, that after having advanced in them a little, they were quite loſt a⯑mong the ſeveral Turns and Windings; and tho' they were as active as any in their Motions, they made but little Progreſs in the Aſcent. Theſe, as my Guide informed me, were Men of ſubtle Tempers, and puzzled Politicks, who would ſupply the Place of real Wiſdom with Cunning and Artifice. Among thoſe, who were far ad⯑vanced in their Way, there were ſome that by one falſe Step fell backward, and loſt more Ground in a Moment, than they had gain'd for many [200] Hours, or could be ever able to recover. We were now advanced very high, and obſerved, That all the different Paths which ran about the Sides of the Mountain, began to meet in Two great Roads, which inſenſibly gather'd the whole Multitude of Travellers into Two great Bodies. At a little Diſtance from the Entrance of each Road, there ſtood an hideous Phantom, that op⯑poſed our further Paſſage. One of theſe Appari⯑tions had his Right Hand filled with Darts, which he brandiſhed in the Face of all who came up that Way. Crowds ran back at the Appearance of it, and cried out, Death. The Spectre that guarded the other Road, was Envy: She was not armed with Weapons of Deſtruction like the former; but by dreadful Hiſſings, Noiſes of Re⯑proach, and a horrid diſtracted Laughter, ſhe appeared more frightful than Death it ſelf, inſo⯑much that Abundance of our Company were diſ⯑couraged from paſſing any further, and ſome ap⯑peared aſhamed of having come ſo far. As for my ſelf, I muſt confeſs my Heart ſhrunk within me at the Sight of theſe ghaſtly Appearances: But on a ſudden, the Voice of the Trumpet came more full upon us, ſo that we felt a new Reſolu⯑tion reviving in us; and in Proportion as this Reſolution grew, the Terrors before us ſeem'd to vaniſh. Moſt of the Company who had Swords in their Hands, marched on with great Spirit, and an Air of Defiance, up the Road that was commanded by Death; while others, who had Thought and Contemplation in their Looks, went forward in a more compoſed Manner up the Road poſſeſſed by Envy. The Way above theſe Apparitions grew ſmooth and uniform, and was ſo delightful, that the Travellers went on with Pleaſure, and in a little Time arrived at the Top of the Mountain. They here began to breath a delicious kind of Aether, and ſaw all the Fields about them covered with a kind of [201] Purple Light, that made them reflect with Satis⯑faction on their paſt Toils, and diffuſed a ſecret Joy through the whole Aſſembly, which ſhewed it ſelf in every Look and Feature. In the Midſt of theſe happy Fields there ſtood a Palace of a very glorious Structure: It had Four great Fold⯑ing-Doors, that faced the Four ſeveral Quarters of the World. On the Top of it was enthron'd the Goddeſs of the Mountain, who ſmiled upon her Votaries, and ſounded the Silver Trumpet which had called them up, and cheared them in their Paſſage to her Palace. They had now for⯑med themſelves into ſeveral Diviſions, a Band of Hiſtorians taking their Stations at each Door, according to the Perſons whom they were to in⯑troduce.

On a ſudden, the Trumpet, which had hitherto ſounded only a March, or a Point of War, now ſwell'd all its Notes into Triumph and Exulta⯑tion: The whole Fabrick ſhook, and the Doors flew open. The firſt who ſtepped forward, was a beautiful and blooming Hero, and as I heard by the Murmurs round me, Alexander the Great. He was conducted by a Crowd of Hiſtorians. The Perſon who immediately walked before him, was remarkable for an embroider'd Garment, who not being well acquainted with the Place, was conducting him to an Apartment appointed for the Reception of fabulous Heroes. The Name of this falſe Guide was Quintus Curtius: But Arrian and Plutarch, who knew better the Avenues of this Palace, conducted him into the great Hall, and placed him at the upper End of the Firſt Table. My good Daemon, that I might ſee the whole Ceremony, conveyed me to a Cor⯑ner of this Room, where I might perceive all that paſſed without being ſeen my ſelf. The next who entered was a Charming Virgin, lead⯑ing in a venerable old Man that was blind. Un⯑der her Left Arm ſhe bore a Harp, and on her [202] Head a Garland. Alexander, who was very well acquainted with Homer, ſtood up at his Entrance, and placed him on his Right Hand. The Virgin, who it ſeems was one of the Nine Siſters that attended on the Goddeſs of Fame, ſmiled with an ineffable Grace at their Meeting, and retired. Julius Caeſar was now coming forward; and tho' moſt of the Hiſtorians offered their Service to introduce him, he left them at the Door, and would have no Conductor but himſelf.

The next who advanced, was a Man of a home⯑ly but chearful Aſpect, and attended by Perſons of greater Figure than any that appeared on this Occaſion. Plato was on his Right Hand, and Xenophon on his Left. He bowed to Homer, and ſate down by him. It was expected that Plato would himſelf have taken a Place next to his Maſter Socrates; but on a ſudden there was heard a great Clamour of Diſputants at the Door, who appeared with Ariſtotle at the Head of them. That Philoſopher, with ſome Rudeneſs, but great Strength of Reaſon, convinced the whole Table, that a Title to the Fifth Place was his Due, and took it accordingly.

He had ſcarce ſate down, when the ſame beautiful Virgin that had introduced Homer brought in ano⯑ther, who hung back at the Entrance, and would have excuſed himſelf, had not his Modeſty been o⯑vercome by the Invitation of all who ſate at the Ta⯑ble. His Guide and Behaviour made me eaſily con⯑clude it was Virgil. Cicero next appeared, and took his Place. He had inquired at the Door for one Luc⯑ [...]us to introduce him; but not finding him there, he contented himſelf with the Attendance of many other Writers, who all (except Salluſt) ap⯑peared highly pleaſed with the Office.

We waited ſome Time in Expectation of the next Worthy, who came in with a great Retinue of Hiſtorians, whoſe Names I could not learn, moſt of them being Natives of Carthage. The [203] Perſon thus conducted, who was Hannibal, ſeem⯑ed much diſturbed, and could not forbear com⯑plaining to the Board of the Affronts he had met with among the Roman Hiſtorians, who attempt⯑ed, ſays he, to carry me into the Subterraneous Apartment; and perhaps would have done it, had it not been for the Impartiality of this Gentleman, pointing to Polybius, who was the only Perſon, except my own Countrymen, that was willing to conduct me hither.

The Carthaginian took his Seat, and Pompey en⯑tered with great Dignity in his own Perſon, and preceded by ſeveral Hiſtorians. Lucan the Poet was at the Head of them, who obſerving Homer and Virgil at the Table, was going to ſit down himſelf, had not the latter whiſper'd him, That whatever Pretence he might otherwiſe have had, he forfeit⯑ed his Claim to it, by coming in as one of the Hi⯑ſtorians. Lucan was ſo exaſperated with the Re⯑pulſe, that he muttered ſomething to himſelf, and was heard to ſay, That ſince he could not have a Seat among them himſelf, he would bring in one who alone had more Merit than their whole Aſſembly: Upon which he went to the Door, and brought in Cato of Utica. That great Man approached the Company with ſuch an Air, that ſhowed he contemned the Honour which he laid a Claim to. Obſerving the Seat oppoſite to Caeſar was vacant, he took Poſſeſſion of it, and ſpoke Two or Three ſmart Sentences upon the Nature of Precedency, which, according to him, conſiſted not in Place, but in intrinſick Merit; to which he added, That the moſt virtuous Man, wherever he was ſeated, was always at the Up⯑per End of the Table. Socrates, who had a great Spirit of Raillery with his Wiſdom, could not forbear ſmiling at a Virtue which took ſo little Pains to make it ſelf agreeable. Cicero took the Occaſion to make a long Diſcourſe in Praiſe of Cato, which he uttered with much Ve⯑hemence. [204] Caeſar anſwer'd him with a great deal of ſeeming Temper; but as I ſtood at a great Diſtance from them, I was not able to hear one Word of what they ſaid. But I could not forbear taking Notice, That in all the Diſcourſe which paſſed at the Table, a Word or Nod from Homer decided the Controverſy.

After a ſhort Pauſe, Auguſtus appeared, looking round him with a ſerene and affable Countenance upon all the Writers of his Age, who ſtrove a⯑mong themſelves which of them ſhould ſhow him the greateſt Marks of Gratitude and Reſpect. Virgil roſe from the Table to meet him; and though he was an acceptable Gueſt to all, he ap⯑peared more ſuch to the Learned, than the Military Worthies. The next Man aſtoniſh'd the whole Ta⯑ble with his Appearance: He was ſlow, ſolemn, and ſilent, in his Behaviour, and wore a Raimens curiouſly wrought with Hieroglyphicks. As he came into the middle of the Room, he threw back the Skirt of it, and diſcovered a Golden Thigh. Socrates, at the Sight of it, declared againſt keeping Company with any who were not made of Fleſh and Blood; and therefore de⯑ſired Diogenes the Laertian to lead him to the Apartment allotted for Fabulous Heroes, and Worthies of dubious Exiſtence. At his going out, he told them, That they did not know whom they diſmiſſed; that he was now Pythagoras, the Firſt of Philoſophers, and that formerly he had been a very brave Man at the Siege of Troy. That may be very true, ſaid Socrates; but you forgot that you have likewiſe been a very great Harlot in your Time. This Excluſion made Way for Ar⯑chimedes, who came forward with a Scheme of Mathematical Figures in his Hand; among which, I obſerv'd a Cone and a Cylinder.

Seeing this Table full, I deſired my Guide for Variety to lead me to the Fabulous Apartment, [205] the Roof of which was painted with Gorgons, Chimaera's, and Centaurs, with many other Em⯑blematical Figures, which I wanted both Time and Skill to unriddle. The Firſt Table was al⯑moſt full: At the upper End ſat Hercules leaning an Arm upon his Club; on his Right Hand were Achilles and Ulyſſes, and between them Aeneas; on his Left were Hector, Theſeus. and Jaſon: The lower End had Orpheus, Aeſop, Phalaris, and Muſaeus. The Uſher ſeem'd at a Loſs for a Twelfth Man, when, methought, to my great Joy and Surprize, I heard ſome at the lower End of the Table mention Iſaac Bickerſtaff: But thoſe of the upper End receiv'd it with Diſdain, and ſaid, If they muſt have a Britiſh Worthy, they would have Robin Hood.

While I was tranſported with the Honour that was done me, and burning with Envy againſt my Competitor, I was awaken'd by the Noiſe of the Cannon which were then fired for the taking of Mons. I ſhould have been very much trou⯑bled at being thrown out of ſo pleaſing a Vi⯑ſion on any other Occaſion; but thought it an agreeable Change to have my Thoughts diverted from the Greateſt among the Dead and Fabulous Heroes, to the moſt Famous among the Real and the Living.

AFter the Mind has been employ'd on Contem⯑plations ſuitable to its Greatneſs, it is unna⯑tural to run into ſudden Mirth or Levity; but we muſt let the Soul ſubſide as it roſe, by proper De⯑grees. My late Conſiderations of the ancient Heroes impreſſed a certain Gravity upon my Mind, which is much above the little Gratifica⯑tion receiv'd from Starts of Humour and Fancy, and threw me into a pleaſing Sadneſs. In this State of Thought I have been looking at the Fire, and in a penſive Manner reflecting upon the great Misfortunes and Calamities incident to Hu⯑mane Life; among which there are none that touch ſo ſenſibly as thoſe which befal Perſons who eminently love, and meet with fatal Inter⯑ruptions of their Happineſs when they leaſt ex⯑pect it. The Piety of Children to Parents, and the Affection of Parents to their Children, are the Effects of Inſtinct; but the Affection between Lovers and Friends is founded on Reaſon and Choice, which has always made me think, the Sorrows of the latter much more to be pitied than thoſe of the former. The Contemplation of Diſtreſſes of this Sort ſoftens the Mind of Man, and makes the Heart better. It extinguiſhes the Seeds of Envy and ill Will towards Mankind, corrects the Pride of Proſperity, and beats down [207] all that Fierceneſs and Inſolence which are apt to get into the Minds of the Daring and Fortunate.

For this Reaſon the wiſe Athenians, in their Theatrical Performances, laid before the Eyes of the People the greateſt Afflictions which could be⯑fal Humane Life, and inſenſibly poliſh'd their Tempers by ſuch Repreſentations. Among the Modern, indeed there has aroſe a Chimerical Method of diſpoſing the Fortune of the Perſons repreſented, according to what they call Poetical Juſtice; and letting none be unhappy but thoſe who deſerve it. In ſuch Caſes, an intelligent Spectator, if he is concern'd, knows he ought not to be ſo; and can learn nothing from ſuch a Tenderneſs, but that he is a weak Creature, whoſe Paſſions cannot follow the Dictates of his Underſtanding. It is very natural, when one is got into ſuch a Way of Thinking, to recollect thoſe Examples of Sorrow which have made the ſtrongeſt Impreſſion upon our Imaginations. An Inſtance or Two of ſuch you'll give me Leave to communicate.

A young Gentleman and Lady of ancient and honourable Houſes in Cornwall, had from their Childhood entertained for each other a generous and noble Paſſion, which had been long oppoſed by their Friends, by Reaſon of the Inequality of their Fortunes; but their Conſtancy to each other, and Obedience to thoſe on whom they depended, wrought ſo much upon their Relations, that theſe celebrated Lovers were at length joined in Mar⯑riage. Soon after their Nuptials, the Bridegroom was obliged to go into a Foreign Country, to take Care of a conſiderable Fortune which was left him by a Relation, and came very opportunely to improve their moderate Circumſtances. They re⯑ceived the Congratulations of all the Country on this Occaſion; and I remember it was a common Sentence in every one's Mouth, You ſee how faith⯑ful Love is rewarded.

[208] He took this agreeable Voyage, and ſent Home every Poſt freſh Accounts of his Succeſs in his Affairs Abroad; but at laſt (though he deſigned to return with the next Ship) he lamented in his Letters, that Buſineſs would detain him ſome Time longer from Home, becauſe he would give himſelf the Pleaſure of an unexpected Arrival.

The young Lady, after the Heat of the Day, walked every Evening on the Sea-Shore, near which ſhe lived, with a familiar Friend, her Hus⯑band's Kinſwoman, and diverted her ſelf with what Objects they met there, or upon Diſcourſes of the future Methods of Life in the happy Change of their Circumſtances. They ſtood one Even⯑ing on the Shore together in a perfect Tranqui⯑lity, obſerving the Setting of the Sun, the calm Face of the Deep, and the ſilent Heaving of the Waves which gently rolled towards them, and broke at their Feet; when at a Diſtance her Kinſwoman ſaw ſomething float on the Wa⯑ters, which ſhe fancied was a Cheſt; and with a Smile told her, ſhe ſaw it firſt, and if it came aſhore full of Jewels, ſhe had a Right to it. They both fixed their Eyes upon it, and enter⯑tained themſelves with the Subject of the Wreck, the Couſin ſtill aſſerting her Right; but promiſing, if it was a Prize, to give her a very rich Coral for the Child, of which ſhe was then big, provided ſhe might be Godmother. Their Mirth ſoon abated, when they obſerv'd upon the nearer Approach, that it was a humane Body. The young Lady, who had a Heart naturally fil⯑led with Pity and Compaſſion, made many me⯑lancholy Reflections on the Occaſion. Who knows (ſaid ſhe) but this Man may be the only Hope and Heir of a wealthy Houſe; the Dar⯑ling of indulgent Parents, who are now in im⯑pertinent Mirth, and pleaſing themſelves with the Thoughts of offering him a Bride they have got ready for him? Or, may he not be the Maſter of [209] a Family that wholly depended upon his Life? There may, for ought we know, be half a Dozen Fatherleſs Children, and a tender Wife, now expos'd to Poverty by his Death. What Pleaſure might he have promiſed himſelf in the different Welcome he was to have from her and them? But let us go away, 'tis a dreadful Sight! The beſt Office we can do, is to take Care that the poor Man, whoever he is, may be decently buried. She turned away when a Wave threw the Carcaſs on the Shore. The Kinſwoman im⯑mediately ſhriek'd out, Oh, my Couſin! and fell upon the Ground. The unhappy Wife went to help her Friend, when ſhe ſaw her own Husband at her Feet, and dropt in a Swoon upon the Bo⯑dy. An old Woman, who had been the Gentle⯑man's Nurſe, came out about this Time to call the Ladies in to Supper, and found her Child (as ſhe always called him) dead on the Shore, her Miſtreſs and Kinſwoman both lying dead by him. Her loud Lamentations, and calling her young Maſter to Life, ſoon awaked the Friend from her Trance; but the Wife was gone for ever.

When the Family and Neighbourhood got to⯑gether round the Bodies, no one asked any Que⯑ſtion, but the Objects before them told the Story.

Incidents of this Nature are the more moving, when they are drawn by Perſons concerned in the Cataſtrophe, notwithſtanding they are often oppreſſed beyond the Power of giving them in a diſtinct Light, except we gather their Sorrow from their Inability to ſpeak it.

I have Two Original Letters written both on the ſame Day, which are to me exquiſite in their diffe⯑rent Kinds. The Occaſion was this: A Gentleman who had courted a moſt agreeable young Woman, and won her Heart, obtained alſo the Conſent of her Father, to whom ſhe was an only Child. The old Man had a Fancy that they ſhould be married in the ſame Church where he himſelf was, in a Vil⯑lage [210] in Weſtmorland, and made 'em ſet out while he was laid up with the Gout at London. The Bridegroom took only his Man, the Bride her Maid. They had the moſt agreeable Journey imaginable to the Place of Marriage: From whence the Bridegroom writ the following Let⯑ter to his Wife's Father:

The Villagers were aſſembling about the Church, and the happy Couple took a Walk in a private Garden. The Bridegroom's Man knew his Maſter would leave the Place on a ſudden af⯑ter the Wedding, and ſeeing him draw his Pi⯑ſtols the Night before, took this Opportunity to go into his Chamber, and charge them. Upon their Return from the Garden, they went into that Room; and after a little ſond Raillery on the Subject of their Courtſhip, the Lover took up a Piſtol, which he knew he had unloaded the Night before, and preſenting it to her, ſaid with the moſt graceful Air, whilſt ſhe look'd pleaſed at his agreeable Flattery, Now, Madam, repent of all thoſe Cruelties you have been guilty of to me; [211] conſider before you die, how often you have made a poor Wretch freeze under your Caſement; you ſhall die, you Tyrant, you ſhall die, with all thoſe Inſtruments of Death and Deſtruction about you, with that inchanting Smile, thoſe killing Ring⯑lets of your Hair—Give Fire, ſaid ſhe, laughing. He did ſo, and ſhot her dead. Who can ſpeak his Condition? But he bore it ſo pa⯑tiently as to call up his Man. The poor Wretch enter'd, and his Maſter lock'd the Door upon him. Will. ſaid he, Did you charge theſe Pi⯑ſtols? He anſwer'd, Yes. Upon which he ſhot him dead with that remaining. After this, amidſt a Thouſand broken Sobs, piercing Groans, and diſtracted Motions, he writ the following Letter to the Father of his dead Miſtreſs.

IT is my frequent Practice to viſit Places of Re⯑ſort in this Town where I am leaſt known, to obſerve what Reception my Works meet with in the World, and what good Effects I may promiſe my ſelf from my Labours: And it being a Privi⯑lege aſſerted by Monſieur Montaigne and others, of vain-glorious Memory, That we Writers of Eſſays may talk of our ſelves; I take the Liber⯑ty to give an Account of the Remarks which I find are made by ſome of my gentle Readers upon theſe my Diſſertations.

I happen'd this Evening to fall into a Coffee-houſe near the 'Change, where Two Perſons were reading my Account of the Table of Fame. The one of theſe was commenting as he read, and ex⯑plaining who was meant by this and t'other Wor⯑thy as he paſſed on. I obſerv'd the Perſon over⯑againſt him wonderfully intent and ſatisfied with his Explanation. When he came to Julius Caeſar, who is ſaid to have refuſed any Conductor to the Table; No no, ſaid he, he is in the right of it, he has Money enough to be welcome wherever he comes; and then whiſpered, He means a certain Colonel of the Train-Bands. Upon reading, that Ariſtotle made his Claim with ſome Rude⯑neſs, but great Strength of Reaſon; Who can that be, ſo rough and ſo reaſonable? It muſt be ſome Whig, I warrant you. There is nothing [213] but Party in theſe publick Papers. Where Pytha⯑goras is ſaid to have a Golden Thigh; Ay, ay, ſaid he, he has Money enough in his Breeches; that is the Alderman of our Ward. You muſt know, whatever he read, I found he interpreted from his own Way of Life and Acquaintance. I am glad my Readers can conſtrue for themſelves theſe difficult Points; but for the Benefit of Po⯑ſterity, I deſign, when I come to write my laſt Paper of this Kind, to make it an Explanation of all my former. In that Piece, you ſhall have all I have commended, with their proper Names. The faulty Characters muſt be left as they are, becauſe we live in an Age wherein Vice is very general, and Virtue very particular; for which Reaſon the latter only wants Explanation.

But I muſt turn my preſent Diſcourſe to what is of yet greater Regard to me than the Care of my Writings; that is to ſay, the Preſervation of a Lady's Heart. Little did I think I ſhould ever have Buſineſs of this Kind on my Hands more; but as little as any one who knows me would believe it, there is a Lady at this Time who pro⯑feſſes Love to me. Her Paſſion and good Hu⯑mour you ſhall have in her own Words.

There is ſomething wonderfully pleaſing in the Favour of Women; and this Letter has put me in ſo good an Humour, that nothing could diſpleaſe me ſince I received it. My Boy breaks Glaſſes and Pipes, and inſtead of giving him a Knock of the Pate, as my Way is, (for I hate ſcolding at Servants,) I only ſay, Ah, Jack! Thou haſt a Head, and ſo has a Pin; or ſome ſuch merry Expreſſion. But alas! How am I morti⯑fied when he is putting on my fourth Pair of Stockings on theſe poor Spindles of mine? The Fair One underſtands Love better than I Aſtrono⯑my! I am ſure, without the Help of that Art, this poor meagre Trunk of mine is a very ill Habitation for Love. She is pleaſed to ſpeak civilly of my Senſe; but Ingenium male habitat is an invincible Difficulty in Caſes of this Na⯑ture. I had always indeed, from a Paſſion to pleaſe the Eyes of the Fair, a great Pleaſure in Dreſs. Add to this, That I have writ Songs ſince I was Sixty, and have lived with all the Circum⯑ſpection of an old Beau, as I am: But my Friend Horace has very well ſaid, Every Year takes ſome⯑thing [215] from us; and inſtructed me to form my Pur⯑ſuits and Deſires according to the Stage of my Life: Therefore I have no more to value my ſelf upon, than that I can converſe with young Peo⯑ple without Peeviſhneſs, or wiſhing my ſelf a Moment younger. For which Reaſon, when I am amongſt 'em, I rather moderate than inter⯑rupt their Diverſions. But though I have this Complacency, I muſt not pretend to write to a Lady civil Things, as Maria deſires. Time was, when I could have told her, I had received a Letter from her Fair Hands; and, That if this Paper trembled as ſhe read it, it then beſt ex⯑preſſed its Author, or ſome other gay Conceit. Though I never ſaw her, I could have told her, That good Senſe and good Humour ſmiled in her Eyes; That Conſtancy and good Nature dwelt in her Heart; That Beauty and good Breeding appeared in all her Actions. When I was Five and Twenty, upon Sight of one Sylla⯑ble, even wrong ſpelt, by a Lady I never ſaw, I could tell her, That her Height was that which was fit for inviting our Approach, and com⯑manding our Reſpect; That a Smile ſate on her Lips, which prefaced her Expreſſions before ſhe uttered them, and her Aſpect prevented her Speech. All ſhe could ſay, though ſhe had an infinite deal of Wit, was but a Repetition of what was expreſſed by her Form; her Form, which ſtruck her Beholders with Ideas more moving and forcible, than ever were inſpired by Muſick, Painting, or Eloquence. At this Rate I panted in thoſe Days; but, Ah! Sixty Three! I am very ſorry I can only return the agreeable Maria a Paſſion, expreſſed rather from the Head than the Heart.

There is nothing more common than the Weak⯑neſſes mention'd in the following Epiſtle; and I believe there is hardly a Man living who has not been more or leſs injured by it.

This Epiſtle has given an Occaſion to a Trea⯑tiſe on this Subject, wherein I ſhall lay down Rules when a young Stripling is to ſay, No, and a young Virgin, Yes.

N. B. For the Publication of this Diſcourſe, I wait only for Subſcriptions from the Under-Gra⯑duates of each Univerſity, and the young Ladies in the Boarding-Schools of Hackney and Chelſea.

Letters from the Hague of the 25th of October, N. S. adviſe, That the Garriſon of Mons march⯑ed out on the 23d Inſtant, and a Garriſon of the Allies marched into the Town. All the Forces in the Field, both of the Enemy and the Confede⯑rates, are preparing to withdraw into Winter Quarters.

I Have received a Letter ſubſcribed A. B. wherein it has been repreſented to me as an Enormity, That there are more than ordinary Crowds of Women at the Old-Baily when a Rape is to be try'd: But by Mr. A. B.'s Favour, I can't tell who are ſo much concern'd in that Part of the Law as the Sex he mentions, they being the only Perſons liable to ſuch Inſults. Nor indeed do I think it more unreaſonable that they ſhould be inquiſitive on ſuch Occaſions, than Men of Honour, when one is try'd for killing another in a Duel. It is very natural to enquire how the fatal Paſs was made, that we may the better defend our ſelves when we come to be attack'd. Several eminent Ladies ap⯑peared lately at the Court of Juſtice on ſuch an Oc⯑caſion, and with great Patience and Attention ſtay⯑ed the whole Trials of two Perſons for the above⯑ſaid Crime. The Law to me indeed ſeems a little defective in this Point; and it is a very great Hard⯑ſhip, that this Crime, which is committed by Men only, ſhould have Men only on their Jury. I hum⯑bly therefore propoſe, That on future Tryals of this Sort, half of the Twelve may be Women; and thoſe ſuch whoſe Faces are well known to have taken Notes, or may be ſuppoſed to remem⯑ber what happened in former Trials in the ſame Place. There is the learned Androgyne, that would make a good Fore-woman of the Pannel, who (by long Attendance) underſtands as much Law and Anatomy as is neceſſary in this Caſe. Till this is taken Care of, I am humbly of Opi⯑nion, it would be much more expedient that the Fair were wholly abſent: For to what End can [219] it be, that they ſhould be preſent at ſuch Exami⯑nations, when they can only be perplexed with a Fellow-feeling for the Injured, without any Power to avenge their Sufferings. It is an unne⯑ceſſary Pain which the Fair Ones give themſelves on theſe Occaſions. I have known a young Wo⯑man ſhriek out at ſome Parts of the Evidence; and have frequently obſerv'd, That when the Proof grew particular and ſtrong, there has been ſuch an univerſal Flutter of Fans, that one would think the whole Female Audience were falling in⯑to Fits. Nor indeed can I ſee how Men themſelves can be wholly unmov'd at ſuch Tragical Relations.

In ſhort, I muſt tell my Female Readers, and they may take an old Man's Word for it, That there is nothing in Woman ſo graceful and be⯑coming as Modeſty: It adds Charms to their Beauty, and gives a new Softneſs to their Sex. Without it, Simplicity and Innocence appear rude, Reading and good Senſe maſculine, Wit and Ho⯑nour laſcivious. This is ſo neceſſary a Qualifica⯑tion for pleaſing, that the looſe Part of Woman⯑kind, whoſe Study it is to inſnare Men's Hearts, never fail to ſupport the Appearance of what they know is ſo eſſential to that End: And I have heard it reported by the young Fellows in my Time, as a Maxim of the celebrated Madam Ben⯑net, That a young Wench, tho' never ſo beauti⯑ful, was not worth her Board when he was paſt her Bluſhing. This Diſcourſe naturally brings into my Thoughts a Letter I had received from the virtuous Lady Whittleſtick on the Subject of Lucretia.

Mrs. Biddy Twig has written me a Letter to the ſame Purpoſe: But in Anſwer to both my pretty Correſpondents and Kinſwomen, I muſt tell 'em, That although I know Lucretia would have made a very graceful Figure at the upper End of the Table, I did not think it proper to place her there, becauſe I knew ſhe would not eare for be⯑ing in the Company of ſo many Men without her Husband. At the ſame Time I muſt own, that Tarquin himſelf was not a greater Lover and Ad⯑mirer of Lucretia than I my ſelf am in an honeſt Way. When my Siſter Jenny was in her Sampler, I made her get the whole Story without Book, and tell it me in Needle-work. This illuſtrious Lady ſtands up in Hiſtory, as the Glory of her own Sex, and the Reproach of ours; and the Circumſtances under which ſhe fell were ſo very particular, that they ſeem to make Adultery and Murder meritorious. She was a Woman of ſuch tranſcendent Virtue, that her Beauty, which was the greateſt of the Age and Country in which ſhe lived, and is generally celebrated as the higheſt of Praiſe in other Women, is never mentioned as a Part of her Character. But it would be de⯑claiming to dwell upon ſo celebrated a Story, which I mentioned only in Reſpect to my Kinſ⯑woman; and to make Reparation for the Omiſſion they complain of, do further promiſe 'em, That if they can furniſh me with Inſtances to fill it, there ſhall be a ſmall Tea-Table ſet apart in my Palace of Fame for the Reception of all of her Cha⯑racter.

I was this Evening communicating my Deſign of producing obſcure Merit into publick View; and propoſed to the Learned, that they would [...]leaſe to aſſiſt me in the Work. For the ſame [221] End I publiſh my Intention to the World, That all Men of liberal Thoughts may know they have an Opportunity of doing Juſtice to ſuch worthy Perſons as have come within their reſpective Ob⯑ſervation, and who by Misfortune, Modeſty, or Want of proper Writers to recommend 'em, have eſcaped the Notice of the reſt of Mankind. If therefore any one can bring any Tale or Tidings of illuſtrious Perſons, or glorious Actions, that are not commonly known, he is deſired to ſend an Account thereof to me at J. Morphew's, and they ſhall have Juſtice done 'em. At the ſame Time that I have this Concern for Men and Things that deſerve Reputation and have it not, I am reſolved to examine into the Claims of ſuch Ancients and Moderns as are in Poſſeſſion of it, with a Deſign to diſplace them, in caſe I find their Titles defective. The firſt whoſe Merits I ſhall enquire into, are ſome merry Gentlemen of the French Nation, who have written very ad⯑vantagious Hiſtories of their Exploits in War, Love and Politicks, under the Title of Memoirs. I am afraid I ſhall find ſeveral of theſe Gentle⯑men tardy, becauſe I hear of them in no Wri⯑tings but their own. To read the Narrative of one of theſe Authors, you would fancy that there was not an Action in a whole Campaign, which he did not contrive or execute; yet if you conſult the Hiſtory, or Gazettes of thoſe Times, you do not find him ſo much at the Head of a Party from one End of the Summer to the other. But it is the Way of theſe Great Men, when they lie be⯑hind their Lines, and are in a Time of Inaction, as they call it, to paſs away their Time in wri⯑ting their Exploits. By this Means, ſeveral who are either unknown or deſpiſed in the preſent Age, will be famous in the next, unleſs a ſudden Stop be put to ſuch pernicious Practices. There are others of that gay People, who (as I am in⯑formed) will live half a Year together in a Gar⯑ret, [222] and write an Hiſtory of their Intrigues in the Court of France. As for Politicians, they do not abound with that Species of Men ſo much as we; but as ours are not ſo famous for writing, as for extemporary Diſſertations in Coffee-houſes, they are more annoy'd with Memoirs of this Na⯑ture alſo than we are. The moſt immediate Re⯑medy that I can apply to prevent this growing Evil; is, that I do hereby give Notice to all Book⯑ſellers and Tranſlators whatſoever, That the Word Memoir is French for a Novel; and to re⯑quire of them, That they ſell and tranſlate it ac⯑cordingly.

Coming into this Place to Night, I met an old Friend of mine, who, a little after the Reſtora⯑tion, writ an Epigram with ſome Applauſe, which he has lived upon ever ſince; and by Ver⯑tue of it, has been a conſtant Frequenter of this Coffee-houſe for Forty Years. He took me aſide, and with a great deal of Friendſhip told me, He was glad to ſee me alive; for ſays he, Mr. Bick⯑erſtaff, I am ſorry to find you have raiſed many Enemies by your Lucubrations. There are indeed ſome, ſays he, whoſe Enmity is the greateſt Ho⯑nour they can ſhew a Man; but have you lived to theſe Years, and don't know, that the ready Way to diſoblige, is to give Advice? You may endeavour to guard your Children, as you call them, but—He was going on; but I found the Diſagreeableneſs of giving Advice without being asked it, by my own Impatience of what he was about to ſay. In a Word, I begged him to give me the Hearing of a ſhort Fable.

A Gentleman (ſays I) who was one Day ſlum⯑bering in an Arbor, was on a ſudden awakene [...] by the gentle Biting of a Lizard, a little Anima [...] remarkable for its Love to Mankind. He thre [...] it from his Hand with ſome Indignation, an [...] was riſing up to kill it, when he ſaw an hug [...] [223] venemous Serpent ſliding towards him on the o⯑ther Side, which he ſoon deſtroyed; reflecting afterwards with Gratitude upon his Friend that ſav'd him, and with Anger againſt himſelf, that had ſhown ſo little Senſe of a good Office.

MY Brother Tranquillus, who is a Man of Bu⯑ſineſs, came to me this Morning into my Study, and after very many civil Expreſſions in Return for what good Offices I had done him, told me, he deſired to carry his Wife my Siſter that very Morning to his own Houſe. I readily told him I would wait upon him, without ask⯑ing why he was ſo impatient to rob us of his good Company. He went out of my Chamber, and I thought ſeem'd to have a little Heavineſs upon him, which gave me ſome Diſquiet. Soon after, my Siſter came to me with a very Matron-like Air, and moſt ſedate Satisfaction in her Looks, which ſpoke her very much at Eaſe; but the Traces of her Countenance ſeem'd to diſcover that ſhe had been lately in a Paſſion, and that Air of Content to flow from a certain Triumph upon ſome Advantage obtained. She no ſooner ſate down by me, but I perceived ſhe was one of thoſe Ladies who begin to be Managers within the Time of their being Brides.—Without letting her ſpeak, (which I ſaw ſhe had a mighty Incli⯑nation to do) I ſaid, Here has been your Huſ⯑band, who tells me he has a Mind to go Home this very Morning; and I have conſented to it. It is well, ſaid ſhe, for you muſt know—Nay, Jenny, ſaid I, I beg your Pardon, for 'tis you [224] muſt know—You are to underſtand, that now is the Time to fix or alienate your Husband's Heart for ever; and I fear you have been a little indiſcreet in your Expreſſions or Behaviour to⯑wards him, even here in my Houſe. There has, ſays ſhe, been ſome Words; but I'll be judge by you if he was not in the Wrong: Nay, I need not be judg'd by any Body, for he gave it up himſelf, and ſaid not a Word when he ſaw me grow paſſionate, but, Madam, you are perfectly in the Right of it: As you ſhall judge—Nay, Madam, ſaid I, I am Judge already, and tell you, that you are perfectly in the Wrong of it; for if it was a Matter of Importance, I know he has bet⯑ter Senſe than you; if a Trifle, you know what I told you on your Wedding-Day, that you were to be above little Provocations. She knows very well I can be ſower upon Occaſion, therefore gave me Leave to go on.

Siſter, ſaid I, I will not enter into the Diſpute between you, which I find his Prudence put an End to before it came to Extremity, but charge you to have a Care of the firſt Quarrel, as you tender your Happineſs; for then it is, that the Mind will reflect harſhly upon every Circumſtance that has ever paſs'd between you. If ſuch an Accident is ever to happen, (which I hope never will) be ſure to keep to the Circumſtance before you; make no Alluſions to what is paſs'd, or Concluſions re⯑ferring to what is to come: Don't ſhow an Hoard of Matter for Diſſention in your Breaſt; but if it is neceſſary, lay before him the Thing as you un⯑derſtand it, candidly, without being aſhamed of acknowledging an Error, or proud of being in the Right. If a young Couple be not careful in this Point, they will get into an Habit of Wran⯑gling: And when to Diſpleaſe is thought of no Conſequence, to Pleaſe is always of as little Mo⯑ment. There is a Play, Jenny, I have formerly been at when I was a Student: We got into a [225] dark Corner with a Porringer of Brandy, and threw Raiſins into it, then ſet it on Fire. My Chamber-fellow and I diverted our ſelves with the Sport of venturing our Fingers for the Rai⯑ſins; and the Wantonneſs of the Thing was, to ſee each other look like a Daemon, as we burnt our ſelves and ſnatched out the Fruit. This fan⯑taſtical Mirth was called Snap-Dragon. You may go into many a Family, where you ſee the Man and Wife at this Sport: Every Word at their Ta⯑ble alludes to ſome Paſſage between themſelves; and you ſee by the Paleneſs and Emotion in their Countenance, that it is for your Sake, and not their own, that they forbear playing out the whole Game, in burning each others Fingers. In this Caſe, the whole Purpoſe of Life is inverted, and the Ambition turns upon a certain Conten⯑tion, who ſhall contradict beſt, and not upon an Inclination to excel in Kindneſſes and good Offices. Therefore, dear Jenny, remember me, and avoid Snap-Dragon.

I thank you Brother, (ſaid ſhe) but you don't know how he loves me; I find I can do any Thing with him. If you can ſo, Why ſhould you deſire to do any Thing but pleaſe him? But I have a Word or Two more before you go out of the Room; for I ſee you do not like the Subject I am upon. Let nothing provoke you to fall upon an Imperfection he cannot help; for if he has a reſenting Spirit, he will think your Averſion as immoveable as the Imperfection with which you upbraid him. But above all, dear Jenny, be care⯑ful of one Thing, and you will be ſomething more than Woman, that is, a Levity you are al⯑moſt all guilty of, which is, to take a Pleaſure in your Power to give Pain. It is ev'n in a Miſtreſs an Argument of Meanneſs of Spirit, but in a Wife it is Injuſtice and Ingratitude. When a ſenſible Man once obſerves this in a Woman, he muſt have a very great, or a very little, Spirit to over⯑look [226] it. A Woman ought therefore to conſider very often, how few Men there are who will regard a meditated Offence as a Weakneſs of Temper.

I was going on in my Confabulation, when Tranquillus entered. She caſt her Eyes upon him with much Shame and Confuſion, mixed with great Complacency and Love, and went up to him. He took her in his Arms, and looked ſo many ſoft Things at one Glance, that I could ſee he was glad I had been talking to her, ſorry ſhe had been troubled, and angry at himſelf that he could not diſguiſe the Concern he was in an Hour before. After which, he ſays to me, with an Air aukward enough, but methought not unbecoming, I have altered my Mind, Brother; we'll live up⯑on you a Day or Two longer. I reply'd, That's what I have been perſwading Jenny to ask of you; but ſhe is reſolv'd never to contradict your Incli⯑nation, and refus'd me.

We were going on in that Way which one hardly knows how to expreſs; as when Two People mean the ſame Thing in a nice Caſe, but come at it by talking as diſtantly from it as they can; when very opportunely came in upon us an honeſt inconſiderable Fellow, Tim, Dapper, a Gen⯑tleman well known to us both. Tim, is one of thoſe who are very neceſſary by being very in⯑conſiderable. Tim. dropt in at an Incident when we knew not how to fall into either a grave or a merry Way. My Siſter took this Occaſion to make off, and Dapper gave us an Account of all the Company he had been in to Day, who was and who was not at Home, where he viſited. This Tim. is the Head of a Species: He is a little out of his Element in this Town; but he is a Relation of Tranquillus, and his Neighbour in the Country, which is the true Place of Reſi⯑dence for this Species. The Habit of a Dapper, when he is at Home, is a light Broad Cloth with Calamanco or Red Waſtcoat and Breeches [227] and it is remarkable, that their Wigs ſeldom hide the Collar of their Coats. They have al⯑ways a peculiar Spring in their Arms, a Riggle in their Bodies, and a Trip in their Gate. All which Motions they expreſs at once in their Drinking, Bowing, or ſaluting Ladies; for a di⯑ſtant Imitation of a forward Fop, and a Reſolu⯑tion to over-top him in his Way, are the diſtin⯑guiſhing Marks of a Dapper. Theſe Under-Cha⯑racters of Men are Parts of the ſociable World by no Means to be neglected: They are like Pegs in a Building. They make no Figure in it, but hold the Structure together, and are as abſolute⯑ly neceſſary as the Pillars and Columns. I am ſure we found it ſo this Morning; for Tranquil⯑lus and I ſhould perhaps have look'd cold at each other the whole Day, but Dapper fell in with his brisk Way, ſhook us both by the Hand, rally'd the Bride, miſtook the Acceptance he met with amongſt us for extraordinary Perfection in him⯑ſelf, and heartily pleas'd, and was pleas'd, all the while he ſtay'd. His Company left us all in good Humour, and we were not ſuch Fools as to let it ſink, before we confirmed it by great Chearful⯑neſs and Openneſs in our Carriage the whole Evening.

I have been this Evening to viſit a Lady who is a Relation of the enamour'd Cynthio, and there heard the melancholy News of his Death. I was in Hopes, that Fox-hunting and October would have recovered him from his unhappy Paſſion. He went into the Country with a Deſign to leave behind him all Thoughts of Clariſſa; but he found that Place only more convenient to think of her without Interruption. The Country Gen⯑tlemen were very much puzzled upon his Caſe, and never finding him merry or loud in their Company, took him for a Roman Catho⯑lick, and immediately upon his Death ſeiz'd his [228] French Valet-de-Chambre for a Prieſt; and it is generally thought in the County, it will go hard with him next Seſſion. Poor Cynthio never held up his Head after having received a Letter of Clariſſa's Marriage. The Lady who gave me this Account being far gone in Poetry and Romance, told me, If I would give her an Epitaph, ſhe would take Care to have it placed on his Tomb; which ſhe her ſelf had devis'd in the following Manner: It is to be made of black Marble, and every Corner to be crowned with weeping Cu⯑pids. Their Quivers are to be hung up upon Two tall Cypreſs Trees, which are to grow on each Side of the Monument, and their Arrows to be laid in a great Heap, after the Manner of a Funeral Pile, on which is to lie the Body of the Deceas'd. On the Top of each Cypreſs is to ſtand the Figure of a Moaning Turtle-Dove. On the uppermoſt Part of the Monument, the God⯑deſs to whom theſe Birds are ſacred, is to ſit in a dejected Poſture, as weeping for the Death of her Votary. I need not tell you this Lady's Head is a little turned: However, to be rid of Importuni⯑ties, I promiſed her an Epitaph, and told her, I would take for my Pattern that of Don Alonzo, who was no leſs famous in his Age than Cynthio is in ours.

When I came Home laſt Night, my Servant de⯑livered me the following Letter:

I received this Meſſage with leſs Surprize than I believe Mr. Thrifty imagined; for I knew the good Company too well to feel any Palpitations at their Approach: But I was in very great Con⯑cern how I ſhould adjuſt the Ceremonial, and demean my ſelf to all theſe great Men, who per⯑haps had not ſeen any Thing above themſelves for theſe Twenty Years laſt paſt. I am ſure [230] that's the Caſe of Sir Harry. Beſides which, I was ſenſible that there was a great Point in ad⯑juſting my Behaviour to the ſimple 'Squire, ſo as to give him Satisfaction, and not diſoblige the Juſtice of the Quorum.

The Hour of Nine was come this Morning, and I had no ſooner ſet Chairs, (by the Steward's Let⯑ter) and [...]xed my Tea-Equipage, but I heard a Knock at my Door, which was opened, but no one enter'd; after which follow'd a long Silence, which was broke at laſt by, Sir, I beg your Par⯑don; I think I know better: And another Voice, Nay, good Sir Giles — I looked out from my Window, and ſaw the good Company all with their Hats off, and Arms ſpread, offering the Door to each other. After many Offers, they enter'd with much Solemnity, in the Order Mr. Thrifty was ſo kind as to name 'em to me. But they are now got to my Chamber-Door, and I ſaw my old Friend Sir Harry enter. I met him with all the Reſpect due to ſo reverend a Vegetable; for you are to know, that is my Senſe of a Perſon who remains idle in the ſame Place for half a Century. I got him with great Succeſs into his Chair by the Fire, without throwing down any of my Cups. The Knight-Batchelor told me, he had a great Reſpect for my whole Family, and would, with my Leave, place himſelf next to Sir Harry, at whoſe Right Hand he had ſate at every Quarter-Seſſions this Thirty Years, unleſs he was Sick. The Steward in the Rear whiſ⯑pered the young Templer, That's true to my Knowledge. I had the Misfortune, as they ſtood Cheek by Jole, to deſire the ſimple 'Squire to ſit down before the Juſtice of the Quorum, to the no ſmall Satisfaction of the former, and Reſentment of the latter: But I ſaw my Error too late, and got 'em as ſoon as I could into their Seats. Well, ſaid I, Gentlemen, after I have told you how glad I am of this great Honour, I am to deſire [231] you to drink a Diſh of Tea. They anſwered one and all, That they never drank Tea in a Morning. Not in a Morning! ſaid I, ſtaring round me. Upon which the pert Jackanapes Nick Doubt tipp'd me the Wink, and put out his Tongue at his Grandfather. Here followed a profound Silence, while the Steward in his Boots and Whip propoſed, That we ſhould adjourn to ſome Publick Houſe, where every Body might call for what they pleas'd, and enter upon the Bu⯑ſineſs. We all ſtood up in an Inſtant, and Sir Har⯑ry fil'd off from the Left very diſcreetly, counter⯑marching behind the Chairs towards the Door: After him, Sir Giles in the ſame Manner. The ſimple 'Squire made a ſudden Start to follow; but the Juſtice of the Quorum whipp'd between upon the Stand of the Stairs. A Maid going up with Coals made us halt, and put us into ſuch Confuſion, that we ſtood all in a Heap, without any viſible Poſſibility of recovering our Order: For the young Jackanapes ſeem'd to make a Jeſt of this Matter, and had ſo contrived, by preſſing amongſt us under Pretence of making Way, that his Grandfather was got into the Middle, and he knew no Body was of Quality to ſtir a Step, till Sir Harry mov'd firſt. We were fix'd in this Per plexity for ſome Time, till we heard a very loud Noiſe in the Street; and Sir Harry asking what it was, I, to make them more, ſaid it was Fire. Upon this, all ran down as faſt as they could, without Order or Ceremony, till we got into the Street, where we drew up in very good Order, and fil'd off down Sheer-Lane, the impertinent Templer driving us befo e him, as in a String, and pointing to his Acquaintance who paſs'd by.

I muſt confeſs I love to uſe People according to their own Senſe of good Breeding, and therefore whipp'd in between the Juſtice and the ſimple 'Squire. He could not properly take this ill; but I over-heard him whiſper the Steward, That he [232] thought it hard that a common Conjurer ſhould take Place of him, tho' an elder 'Squire. In this Order we marched down Sheer-Lane, at the up⯑per End of which I lodge. When we came to Temple-Bar, Sir Harry and Sir Giles got over; but a Run of the Coaches kept the reſt of us on this Side the Street: However, we all at laſt landed, and drew up in very good Order before Ben. Tooke's Shop, who favoured our Rallying with great Humanity. From hence we proceed⯑ed again, till we came to Dick's Coffee-houſe, where I deſigned to carry 'em. Here we were at our old Difficulty, and took up the Street upon the ſame Ceremony. We proceeded through the Entry, and were ſo neceſſarily kept in Order by the Situation, that we were now got into the Cof⯑fee-houſe it ſelf, where, as ſoon as we arrived, we repeated our Civilities to each other; after which, we marched up to the high Table, which has an Aſcent to it incloſed in the Middle of the Room. The whole Houſe was alarm'd at this Entry, made up of Perſons of ſo much State and Ruſticity. Sir Harry call'd for a Mug of Ale, and Dyer's Letter. The Boy brought the Ale in an In⯑ſtant; but ſaid, they did not take in the Letter. No, (ſays Sir Harry!) Then take back your Mug; we are like indeed to have good Liquor at this Houſe. Here the Templer tipp'd me a ſecond Wink, and if I had not looked very grave upon him, I found he was diſpoſed to be very familiar with me. In ſhort, I obſerved after a long Pauſe, that the Gentlemen did not care to enter upon Buſineſs till after their Morning-Draught, for which Reaſon I called for a Bottle of Mum; and finding that had no Effect upon them, I ordered a Second, and a Third: After which, Sir Harry reached over to me, and told me in a low Voice, that the Place was too publick for Buſineſs; but he would call upon me again to Morrow Morning at my own Lodgings, and bring ſome more Friends with him.

Though this Place is frequented by a more mixed Company than it us'd to be formerly; yet you meet very often ſome whom one cannot leave without being the better for their Converſation. A Gentleman this Evening, in a dictating Manner, talked I thought very pleaſingly in Praiſe of Mo⯑deſty, in the midſt of Ten or Twelve Libertines, upon whom it ſeemed to have had a good Effect: He repreſented it as the certain Indication of a great and noble Spirit. Modeſty, ſaid he, is the Virtue which makes Men prefer the Publick to their Private Intereſt, the Guide of every honeſt Undertaking, and the great Guardian of Inno⯑cence: It makes Men amiable to their Friends, and reſpected by their very Enemies. In all Places, and on all Occaſions, it attracts Benevo⯑lence, and demands Approbation.

One might give Inſtances out of Antiquity, of the irreſiſtible Force of this Quality in great Minds: Cicereius, and Cneius Scipio the Son of the great Africanus, were Competitors for the Office of Praetor. The Crowd followed Cicereius, and left Scipio unattended. Cicereius ſaw this with much Concern, and deſiring an Audience of the People, he deſcended from the Place where the Candi⯑dates were to ſit, in the Eye of the Multitude, pleaded for his Adverſary, and with an ingenuous Modeſty (which it is impoſſible to feign) repre⯑ſented to them, how much it was to their Diſho⯑nour, that a virtuous Son of Africanus ſhould not be preferred to him, or any other Man whatſo⯑ever. This immediately gain'd the Election for Scipio; but all the Compliments and Congratula⯑tions upon it were made to Cicereius. It is eaſier in this Caſe to ſay who had the Office, than the Ho⯑nour. There is no Occurrence in Life, where this Quality is not more ornamental than any other. After the Battle of Pharſalia, Pompey marching towards Lariſſus, the whole People of that Place [234] come out in Proceſſion to do him Honour. He thanked the Magiſtrates for their Reſpect to him; but deſired them to perform theſe Ceremonies to the Conqueror. This gallant Submiſſion to his Fortune, and Diſdain of making any Appearance but like Pompey, was owing to his Modeſty, which would not permit him to be, ſo diſingenuous, as to give himſelf the Air of Proſperity, when he was in the contrary Condition.

This I ſay of Modeſty, as it is the Virtue which preſerves a Decorum in the general Courſe of our Life; but conſidering it alſo as it regards our meer Bodies, it is the certain Character of a great Mind. It is memorable of the mighty Caeſar, that when he was murder'd in the Capitol, at the very Moment in which he expired, he gathe⯑red his Robe about him, that he might fall in a decent Poſture. In this Manner (ſays my Au⯑thor) he went off, not like a Man that departed out of Life, but a Deity that returned to his Abode.

THere is nothing which I contemplate with greater Pleaſure than the Dignity of humane Nature, which often ſhows it ſelf in all Condi⯑tions of Life: For notwithſtanding the Degene⯑racy and Meanneſs that is crept into it, there are a Thouſand Occaſions in which it breaks through its Original Corruption, and ſhows what it once was, and what it will be hereafter. I conſider the Soul of Man, as the Ruin of a glorious Pile of Building; where, amidſt great Heaps of Rub⯑biſh, [235] you meet with noble Fragments of Sculp⯑ture, broken Pillars and Obelisks, and a Magni⯑ficence in Confuſion. Virtue and Wiſdom are continually employed in clearing the Ruins, re⯑moving theſe diſorderly Heaps, recovering the noble Pieces that lie buried under them, and ad⯑juſting them as well as poſſible according to their ancient Symmetry and Beauty. A happy Educa⯑tion, Converſation with the fineſt Spirits, look⯑ing abroad into the Works of Nature, and Ob⯑ſervations upon Mankind, are the great Aſſiſtan⯑ces to this neceſſary and glorious Work. But even among thoſe who have never had the Hap⯑pineſs of any of theſe Advantages, there are ſometimes ſuch Exertions of the Greatneſs that is natural to the Mind of Man, as ſhow Capaci⯑ties and Abilities, which only want theſe acci⯑dental Helps to fetch them out, and ſhow them in a proper Light. A Plebeian Soul is ſtill the Ruin of this glorious Edifice, though encumber'd with all its Rubbiſh. This Reflection roſe in me from a Letter which my Servant drop'd as he was dreſſing me, and which he told me was commu⯑nicated to him as he is an Acquaintance of ſome of the Perſons mentioned in it. The Epiſtle is from one Serjeant Hall of the Foot-Guards. It is directed, To Serjeant Cabe, in the Coldſtream Re⯑giment of Foot-Guards, at the Red-Lettice in the Butcher-Row near Temple-Bar.

I was ſo pleaſed with ſeveral Touches in it, that I could not forbear ſhewing it to a Cluſter of Criticks, who, inſtead of conſidering it in the Light I have done, examined it by the Rules of Epiſtolary Writing: For as theſe Gentlemen are ſeldom Men of any great Genius, they work alto⯑gether by Mechanical Rules, and are able to diſ⯑cover no Beauties that are not pointed out by Bouhours and Rapin. The Letter is as follows:

I ſaw the Criticks prepared to nibble at my Letter; therefore examined it my ſelf, partly in their Way, and partly my own. This is (ſaid I) truly a Letter, and an honeſt Repreſentation of that chearful Heart which accompanies the poor Soldier in his Warfare. Is not there in this all the Topick of ſubmitting to our Deſtiny as well diſcuſſed, as if a greater Man had been placed, like Brutus, in his Tent at Midnight, reflecting on all the Occurrences of paſt Life, and ſaying fine Things on Being it ſelf? What Serjeant Hall knows of the Matter, is, that he wiſhes there had not been ſo many killed, and he had him⯑ſelf a very bad Shot in the Head, and ſhould re⯑cover if it pleaſed God. But be that as it will, he takes Care, like a Man of Honour, as he cer⯑tainly is, to let the Widow Stephenſon know, that he had Seven and Threepence for her; and that if he lives, he is ſure he ſhall go into Garri⯑ſon at laſt. I doubt not but all the good Compa⯑ny at the Red-Lettice drank his Health with as much real Eſteem as we do any of our Friends. All that I am concerned for, is, that Mrs. Peggy [238] Hartwell may be offended at ſhowing this Letter, becauſe her Conduct in Mr. Hartwell's Abſence is a little enquired into. But I could not ſink that Circumſtance, becauſe you Criticks would have loſt one of the Parts which I doubt not but you have much to ſay upon, Whether the Fami⯑liar Way is well hit in this Style or not? As for my ſelf, I take a very particular Satisfaction in ſeeing any Letter that is fit only for thoſe to read who are concern'd in it, but eſpecially on ſuch a Subject.

If we conſider the Heap of an Army, utterly out of all Proſpect of Riſing and Preferment, as they certainly are, and ſuch great Things exe⯑cuted by them, it is hard to account for the Mo⯑tive of their Gallantry. But to me, who was a Cadet at the Battle of Coldſtream in Scotland, when Monk charged at the Head of the Regi⯑ment, now called Coldſtream from the Victory of that Day; (I remember it as well as if it were Yeſterday) I ſtood on the Left of old Weſt, who I believe is now at Chelſea: I ſay, to me, who know very well this Part of Mankind. I take the Gallantry of private Soldiers to proceed from the ſame, if not from a nobler Impulſe than that of Gentlemen and Officers. They have the ſame Taſte of being acceptable to their Friends, and go through the Difficulties of that Profeſſion by the ſame irreſiſtible Charm of Fellowſhip, and the Communication of Joys and Sorrows, which quickens the Reliſh of Pleaſure, and abates the Anguiſh of Pain. Add to this, that they have the ſame Regard to Fame, though they do not expect ſo great a Share as Men above them hope for; but I'll engage, Serjeant Hall would die Ten thouſand Deaths, rather than a Word ſhould be ſpoken at the Red-Lettice, or any Part of the Butcher-Row, in Prejudice to his Courage or Ho⯑neſty. If you will have my Opinion then of the Serjeant's Letter, I pronounce the Style to be [239] mixed, but truly Epiſtolary; the Sentiment re⯑lating to his own Wound, is in the Sublime; the Poſtſcript of Pegg Hartwell, in the gay; and the Whole, the Picture of the braveſt Sort of Men, that is to ſay, a Man of great Courage, and ſmall Hopes.

When I came Home this Evening, I found, after many Attempts to vary my Thoughts, that my Head ſtill ran upon the Subject of the Diſ⯑courſe to Night at Will's. I fell therefore into the Amuſement of proportioning the Glory of a Battle among the whole Army, and dividing it into Shares, according to the Method of the Mil⯑lion-Lottery. In this Bank of Fame, by an exact Calculation, and the Rules of Political Arith⯑metick, I have allotted Ten hundred thouſand Shares; Five hundred thouſand of which is the Due of the General, Two hundred thouſand I aſſign to the General Officers, and Two hundred thouſand more to all the Commiſſioned Officers, from Colonels to Enſigns; the remaining Hun⯑dred thouſand muſt be diſtributed among the Non-Commiſſion'd Officers, and private Men: According to which Computation, I find Ser⯑jeant Hall is to have one Share and a Fraction of two Fifths. When I was a Boy at Oxford, there was among the Antiquities near the Theatre a great Stone, on which were engraven the Names of all who fell in the Battle of Marathon. The generous and knowing People of Athens under⯑ſtood the Force of the Deſire of Glory, and would not let the meaneſt Soldier periſh in Obli⯑vion. Were the natural Impulſe of the Britiſh Nation animated with ſuch Monuments, What Man would be ſo mean, as not to hazard his Life for his Ten hundred thouſandth Part of the Ho⯑nour in ſuch a Day as that of Blenheim or Blareg⯑nies?

I Have lately received a Letter from a Friend in the Country, wherein he acquaints me, That two or three Men of the Town are got a⯑mong them, and have brought down particular Words and Phraſes, which were never before in thoſe Parts. He mentions in particular the Words Gunner and Gunſter, which my Correſpon⯑dent obſerves they make uſe of when any Thing has been related that is ſtrange and ſurprizing; and therefore deſires I would explain thoſe Terms, as I have many others, for the Information of ſuch as live at a Diſtance from this Town and Court, which he calls the great Mints of Lan⯑guage. His Letter is dated from York; and (if he tells me Truth) a Word in its ordinary Circu⯑lation does not reach that City within the Space of Five Years after it is firſt ſtamp'd. I cannot ſay how long theſe Words have been current in Town, but I ſhall now take Care to ſend them down by the next Poſt.

I muſt in the firſt Place obſerve, That the Words Gunner and Gunſter are not to be uſed promiſcuouſly; for a Gunner, properly ſpeaking, is not a Gunſter: Nor is a Gunſter, vice verſa, a Gunner. They both indeed are derived from the Word Gun, and ſo far they agree. But as a Gun is remarkable for its deſtroying at a Di⯑ſtance, or for the Report it makes, which is apt to ſtartle all its Hearers, thoſe who recount ſtrange Accidents and Circumſtances, which have no Manner of Foundation in Truth, when [241] they deſign to do Miſchief, are comprehended under the Appellation of Gunners; but when they endeavour only to ſurpriſe and entertain, they are diſtinguiſh'd by the Name of Gunſters. Gun⯑ners therefore are the Peſt of Society; but the Gunſters often the Diverſion. The Gunner is de⯑ſtructive, and hated; the Gunſter innocent, and laughed at. The firſt is prejudicial to others, the other only to himſelf.

This being premiſed, I muſt in the next Place ſubdivide the Gunner into ſeveral Branches: All or the Chief of which are I think as follow:

• Firſt, The Bombardeer.
• Secondly, The Miner.
• Thirdly, The Squib.
• Fourthly, The Serpent.

And Firſt, Of the Firſt. The Bombardeer toſſes his Balls ſometimes into the midſt of a City, with a Deſign to fill all around him with Terror and Combuſtion. He has been ſometimes known to drop a Bomb in a Senate-houſe, and to ſcatter a Pannick over a Nation. But his chief Aim is at ſeveral eminent Stations, which he looks upon as the faireſt Marks, and uſes all his Skill to do Execution upon thoſe who poſſeſs them. Every Man ſo ſituated, let his Merit be never ſo great, is ſure to undergo a Bombardment. It is further obſerved, that the only Way to be out of Danger from the Burſting of a Bomb, is to lie proſtrate on the Ground; a Poſture too abject for generous Spirits.

Secondly, The Miner.

As the Bombardeer levels his Miſchief at Na⯑tions and Cities, the Miner buſies himſelf in ruining and overturning private Houſes and parti⯑cular Perſons. He often acts as a Spy, in diſco⯑vering the ſecret Avenues and unguarded Ac⯑ceſſes [242] of Families, where, after he has made his [...]roper Diſcoveries and Diſpoſitions, he ſets ſudden Fire to his Train, that blows up Families, ſcatters Friends, ſeparates Lovers, diſperſes Kindred, and ſhakes a whole Neighbourhood.

It is to be noted, that ſeveral Females are great Proficients in this Way of Engineering. The Marks by which they are to be known, are a wonderful Sollicitude for the Reputation of their Friends, and a more than ordinary Concern for the Good of their Neighbours. There is alſo in them ſomething ſo very like Religion, as may deceive the Vulgar; but if you look upon it more nearly, you ſee on it ſuch a Caſt of Cenſoriouſ⯑neſs, as diſcovers it to be nothing but Hypocriſy. Cleomilla is a great Inſtance of a Female Miner: But as my Deſign is to expoſe only the Incorrigi⯑ble, let her be ſilent for the future, and I ſhall be ſo too.

Thirdly, The Squib.

The Squibs are thoſe who in the common Phraſe of the World are called Libellers, Lampooners, and Pamphleteers. Their Fire-works are made up in Paper; and it is obſerved, that they mix abundance of Charcoal in their Powder, that they may be ſure to blacken where they cannot finge. Theſe are obſerved to give a Conſterna⯑tion and Diſturbance only to weak Minds; which, according to the Proverb, are always more afraid than hurt.

Fourthly, Serpents.

The Serpents are a petty Kind of Gunners, more pernicious than any of the reſt. They make Uſe of a Sort of a White Powder, that goes off without any violent Crack, but gives a gentle Sound, much like that of a Whiſper; and is more deſtructive in all Parts of Life, than any of the Materials made Uſe of by any of the Fra⯑ternity.

[243] Come we now to the Gunſters.

This Race of Engineers deals altogether in Wind-Guns, which by recoiling often, knock down thoſe who diſcharge them, without hurt⯑ing any Body elſe; and according to the various Compreſſions of the Air, make ſuch ſtrange Squeaks, Cracks, Pops, and Bounces, as it is impoſſible to hear without Laughing. 'Tis ob⯑ſervable however, that there is a Diſpoſition in a Gunſter to become a Gunner; and though their proper Inſtruments are only loaden with Wind, they often, out of Wantonneſs, fire a Bomb, or ſpring a Mine, out of their natural Inclination to Engineering; by which Means they do Miſchief when they don't deſign it, and have their Bones broken when they don't deſerve it.

This Sort of Engineers are the moſt unaccoun⯑table Race of Men in the World: Some of them have received above an Hundred Wounds, and yet have not a Scar in their Bodies: ſome have debauched Multitudes of Women who have died Maids. You may be with them from Morning till Night, and the next Day they ſhall tell you a Thouſand Adventures that happened when you were with them, which you know nothing of. They have a Quality of having been preſent at every Thing they hear related; and never heard a Man commended, who was not their intimate Acquaintance, if not their Kinſman.

I hope theſe Notes may ſerve as a rough Draught for a new Eſtabliſhment of Engineers, which I ſhall hereafter fill up with proper Per⯑ſons, according to my own Obſervations on their Conduct, having already had one recommended to me for the General of my Artillery. But that, and all the other Poſts, I intend to keep open, till I can inform my ſelf of the Candidates, having reſolved in this Caſe to depend no more upon their Friend's Word, than I would upon their own.

I was this Morning awaked by a ſudden Skake of the Houſe; and as ſoon as I had got a little out of my Conſternation, I felt another, which was followed by Two or Three Repetitions of the ſame Convulſion. I got up as faſt as poſſible, girt on my Rapier, and ſnatch'd up my Hat, when my Landlady came up to me, and told me, That the Gentlewoman of the next Houſe begged me to ſtep thither; for that a Lodger ſhe had taken in was run mad, and ſhe de⯑ſired my Advice; as indeed every Body in the whole Lane does upon important Occaſions. I am not like ſome Artiſts, ſawcy, becauſe I can be beneficial, but went immediately. Our Neighbour told us, ſhe had the Day before let her Second Floor to a very genteel youngiſh Man, who told her, he kept extraordinary good Hours, and was generally at Home moſt Part of the Morning and Evening at Study; but that this Morning he had for an Hour together made this extravagant Noiſe which we then heard. I went up Stairs with my Hand upon the Hilt of my Rapier, and approached this new Lodger's Door. I look'd in at the Key⯑hole, and there I ſaw a well-made Man look with great Attention on a Book, and on a ſud⯑den jump into the Air ſo high, that his Head almoſt touched the Cieling. He came down ſafe on his Right Foot, and again flew up a⯑lighting on his Left; then looked again at his Book, and holding out his Right Leg, put it into ſuch a quivering Motion, that I thought he would have ſhaked it off. He uſed the Left after the ſame Manner, when on a ſudden, to my great Surprize, he ſtooped himſelf incredibly low, and turned gently on his Toes. After this circular Motion, he continued bent in that humble Poſture for ſome Time, looking on his Book. After this, he recovered himſelf with a [245] ſudden Spring, and flew round the Room in all the Violence and Diſorder imaginable, till he made a full Pauſe for Want of Breath. In this Interim my Women asked what I thought: I whiſper'd, that I thought this learned Perſon an Enthuſiaſt, who poſſibly had his firſt Education in the Peripatetick Way, which was a Sect of Philoſophers who always ſtudied when walking. But obſerving him much out of Breath, I thought it the beſt Time to maſter him if he were diſor⯑der'd, and knock'd at his Door. I was ſurpriz'd to find him open it, and ſay with great Civility and good Mien, That he hoped he had not diſturbed us. I believed him in a lucid Inter⯑val, and deſired he'd pleaſe to let me ſee his Book. He did ſo, ſmiling. I could not make any Thing of it, and therefore asked in what Language it was writ. He ſaid, It was one he ſtudied with great Application; but it was his Profeſſion to teach it, and could not commu⯑nicate his Knowledge without a Conſideration. I anſwer'd, That I hoped he would hereafter keep his Thoughts to himſelf; for his Medita⯑tion this Morning had coſt me Three Coffee-Diſhes, and a clean Pipe. He ſeem'd concern'd at that, and told me, he was a Dancing-Maſter, and had been reading a Dance or Two be⯑fore he went out, which had been written by one who taught at an Academy in France. He obſerved me at a ſtand, and went on to in⯑form me, That now articulate Motions, as well as Sounds, were expreſſed by prope Characters; and that there is nothing ſo common, as to communicate a Dance by a Letter. I beſeech⯑ed him hereafter to meditate in a Ground-Room, for that otherwiſe it would be impoſſi⯑ble for an Artiſt of any other Kind to live near him; and that I was ſure, ſeveral of his Thoughts this Morning would have ſhaken my Specta⯑cles [246] off my Noſe, had I been my ſelf at Study.

I then took my Leave of this Virtuoſo, and re⯑turn'd to my Chamber, meditating on the various Occupations of Rational Creatures.

I have received this ſhort Epiſtle from an unknown Hand.

There is no Pleaſure like that of receiving Praiſe from the Praiſe-worthy; and I own it a very ſolid Happineſs, that theſe my Lucubrations are approved by a Perſon of ſo fine a Taſt as the Author of this Letter, who is capable of enjoy⯑ing the World in the Simplicity of its natural Beauties. This Paſtoral Letter, if I may ſo call it, muſt be written by a Man who carries his Entertainment wherever he goes, and is undoubt⯑edly one of thoſe happy Men who appear far o⯑therwiſe to the Vulgar. I dare ſay, he is not envied by the Vicious, the Vain, the Frolick, and the Loud; but is continually bleſſed with that ſtrong and ſerious Delight which flows from a well-taught and liberal Mind. With great Re⯑ſpect [248] to Country Sports, I may ſay, this Gentle⯑man could paſs his Time agreeably, if there were not a Hare or a Fox in his County. That calm and elegant Satisfaction which the Vulgar call Melancholy, is the true and proper Delight of Men of Knowledge and Virtue. What we take for Diverſion, which is a kind of forgetting our ſelves, is but a mean Way of Entertainment, in Compariſon of that which is conſidering, knowing, and enjoying our ſelves. The Plea⯑ſures of ordinary People are in their Paſſions; but the Seat of this Delight is in the Reaſon and Un⯑derſtanding. Such a Frame of Mind raiſes that ſweet Enthuſiaſm which warms the Imagination at the Sight of every Work of Nature, and turns all around you into Picture and Landskip. I ſhall be ever proud of Advices from this Gentle⯑man; for I profeſs writing News from the lear⯑ned as well as the buſie World.

As for my Labours, which he is pleaſed to en⯑quire after, if they can but wear one Imperti⯑nence out of humane Life, deſtroy a ſingle Vice, or give a Morning's Chearfulneſs to an honeſt Mind; in ſhort, if the World can be but one Virtue the better, or in any Degree leſs vicious, or receive from them the ſmalleſt Addition to their innocent Diverſions, I ſhall not think my Pains, or indeed my Life, to have been ſpent in vain.

Thus far as to my Studies. It will be expected I ſhould in the next Place give ſome Account of my Life. I ſhall therefore, for the Satisfaction of the preſent Age, and the Benefit of Poſterity, preſent the World with the following Abridgment of it.

It is remarkable, that I was bred by Hand, and eat nothing but Milk till I was a Twelve⯑month old; from which Time, to the 8th Year of my Age, I was obſerved to delight in Pud⯑ding [249] and Potatoes; and indeed I retain a Bene⯑volence for that Sort of Food to this Day. I do not remember that I diſtinguiſh'd my ſelf in any Thing at thoſe Years, but by my great Skill at Taw, for which I was ſo barbarouſly uſed, that it has ever ſince given me an Averſion to Ga⯑ming. In my Twelfth Year, I ſuffered very much for Two or Three falſe Concords. At Fifteen, I was ſent to the Univerſity, and ſtayed there for ſome Time; but a Drum paſſing by, (being a Lover of Muſick) I liſted my ſelf for a Soldier. As Years came on, I began to examine Things, and grew diſcontented at the Times. This made me quit the Sword, and take to the Study of the Occult Sciences, in which I was ſo wrap'd up, that Oliver Cromwell had been bu⯑ried, and taken up again, Five Years before I heard he was dead. This gave me firſt the Re⯑putation of a Conjurer, which has been of great Diſadvantage to me ever ſince, and kept me out of all Publick Employments. The greater Part of my later Years has been divided between Dick's Coffee-houſe, the Trumpet in Sheer-Lane, and my own Lodgings.

The Evil of unſeaſonable Viſits has been com⯑plained of to me with much Vehemence by Per⯑ſons of both Sexes; and I am deſired to conſider this very important Circumſtance, that Men may know how to regulate their Conduct in an Affair which concerns no leſs than Life it ſelf. For to a rational Creature, it is almoſt the ſame Cruelty to attack his Life, by robbing him of ſo many Moments of his Time, or ſo many Drops of his Blood. The Author of the following Letter has a juſt Delicacy in this Point, and hath put it in⯑to a very good Light.

It is with ſome ſo hard a Thing to employ their Time, that it is a great good Fortune when they have a Friend indiſpoſed, that they may be punctual in perplexing him, when he is recover'd enough to be in that State which cannot be called Sickneſs or Health; when he is too well to deny Company, and too ill to receive them. It is no uncommon Caſe, if a Man is of any Figure or Power in the World, to be congratulated into a Relapſe.

I was very well pleaſed this Evening, to hear a Gentleman expreſs a very becoming Indigna⯑tion againſt a Practice which I my ſelf have been very much offended at. There is nothing (ſaid he) more ridiculous, than for an Actor to inſert Words of his own in the Part he is to act, ſo that it is impoſſible to ſee the Poet for the Player: You'l have Penkethman and Bullock helping out Beaumont and Fietcher. It puts me in Mind (con⯑tinued he) of a Collection of antique Statues which I once ſaw in a Gentleman's Poſſeſſion, [251] who employ'd a neighbouring Stone-Cutter to add Noſes, Ears, Arms, or Legs, to the maimed Works of Phidias or Praxiteles. You may be ſure this Addition disfigured the Statues much more than Time had. I remember a Venus, that by the Noſe he had given her, looked like Mo⯑ther Shipton; and a Mercury, with a Pair of Legs that ſeemed very much ſwelled with a Dropſy.

I thought the Gentleman's Obſervations very proper; and he told me, I had improved his Thought, in mentioning on this Occaſion thoſe wiſe Commentators who had filled up the Hemi⯑ſticks of Virgil; particularly that notable Poet, who, to make the Aeneid more perfect, carried on the Story to Lavinia's Wedding. If the pro⯑per Officer will not condeſcend to take Notice of theſe Abſurdities, I ſhall my ſelf, as a Cenſor of the People, animadvert upon ſuch Proceed⯑ings.

THE Paſſion of Love happened to be the Subject of Diſcourſe between Two or Three of us at the Table of the Poets this Even⯑ing; and among other Obſervations, it was re⯑marked, that the ſame Sentiment on this Paſſion had run through all Languages and Nations. Menmius, who has a very good Taſte, fell into a little Sort of Diſſertation on this Occaſion. It is (ſaid he) remarkable, that no Paſſion has been [252] treated by all who have touch'd upon it with the ſame Bent of Deſign but this. The Poets, the Moraliſts, the Painters, in all their Deſcriptions, Allegories, and Pictures, have repreſented it as a ſoft Torment, a bitter Sweet, a pleaſing Pain, or an agreeable Diſtreſs, and have only expreſſed the ſame Thought in a different Manner.

The joining of Pleaſure and Pain together in ſuch Devices, ſeems to me the only pointed Thought I ever read which is natural; and it muſt have proceeded from its being the univerſal Senſe and Experience of Mankind, that they have all ſpoken of it in the ſame Manner. I have in my own Reading remarked an Hundred and Three Epigrams, Fifty Odes, and Ninety one Sentences, tending to this ſole Purpoſe.

It is certain, there is no other Paſſion which does produce ſuch contrary Effects in ſo great a Degree [...] But this may be ſaid for Love, that if you ſt [...]ve out of the Soul, Life would be inſipid, and our Being but half animated. Humane Na⯑ture would [...]nk into Deadneſs and Lethargy, it not quickned with ſome active Principle; and as for all others, whether Ambition, Envy, or Ava⯑rice, which are apt to poſſeſs the Mind in the Ab⯑ſence or this Paſſion, it muſt be allowed that they have greater Pains, without the Compenſa⯑tion of ſuch exquiſite Pleaſures as thoſe we find in Love. The great Skill is to heighten the Sa⯑tisfactions, and deaden the Sorrows of it, which has been the End of many of my Labours, and ſhall continue to be ſo for the Service of the World in general, and in Particular of the Fair Sex, who a [...] always the beſt or the worſt Part of it. It is pity that a Paſſion, which has in it a Ca⯑pacity of making Life happy, ſhould not be cul⯑tivated to the utmoſt Advantage. Reaſon, Pru⯑dence, and good Nature, rightly applied, can throughly accompliſh this great End, provided they have always a real and conſtant Love to [253] work upon. But this Subject I ſhall treat more at large in the Hiſtory of my married Siſter; and in the mean Time, ſhall conclude my Reflection on the Pains and Pleaſures which attend this Paſſion with one of the fineſt Allegories which I think I have ever read. It is invented by the Divine Plato, and to ſhew the Opinion he him⯑ſelf had of it, aſcribed by him to his admir'd So⯑crates, whom he repreſents as diſcourſing with his Friends, and giving the Hiſtory of Love in the following Manner:

At the Birth of Beauty (ſays he) there was a great Feaſt made, and many Gueſts invited: A⯑mong the reſt, was the God Plenty, who was the Son of the Goddeſs Prudence, and inherited ma⯑ny of his Mother's Virtues. After a full Enter⯑tainment. he retired into the Garden of Jupiter, which was hung with a great Variety of Ambro⯑ſial Fruits, and ſeems to have been a very proper Retreat for ſuch a Gueſt. In the mean Time an unhappy Female, called Poverty, having heard of this great Feaſt, repaired to it in Hopes of finding Relief. The firſt Place ſhe lights upon was Jupiter's Garden, which generally ſtands open to People of all Conditions. Poverty en⯑ters, and by Chance finds the God Plenty aſleep in it. She was immediately fired with his Charms, laid her ſelf down by his Side, and managed Matters ſo well, that ſhe conceived a Child by him. The World was very much in Suſpence upon the Occaſion, and could not ima⯑gine to themſelves what would be the Nature of an Infant that was to have its Original from Two ſuch Parents. At the laſt, the Child appears; and who ſhould it be but Love. This Infant grew up, and proved in all his Behaviour what he really was, a Compound of oppoſite Beings. As he is the Son of Plenty, (who was the Offspring of Prudence) he is ſubtle, intriguing, full of Strata⯑gems and Devices; as the Son of Poverty, he is [254] fawning, begging, ſerenading, delighting to lie at a Threſhold, or beneath a Window. By the Father, he is audacious, full of Hopes, conſcious of Merit, and therefore quick of Reſentment: By the Mother, he his doubtful, timorous, mean⯑ſpirited, fearful of offending, and abject in Sub⯑miſſions. In the ſame Hour you may ſee him tranſported with Raptures, talking of immortal Pleaſures, and appearing ſatisfied as a God; and immediately after, as the mortal Mother prevails in his Compoſition, you behold him pining, lan⯑guiſhing, deſpairing, dying.

I have been always wonderfully delighted with Fables, Allegories, and the like Inventions, which the politeſt and the beſt Inſtructors of Mankind have always made Uſe of: They take off from the Severity of Inſtruction, and enforce it at the ſame Time that they conceal it. The ſuppoſing Love to be conceived immediately after the Birth of Beauty, the Parentage of Plenty, and the In⯑conſiſtency of this Paſſion with its ſelf ſo natu⯑rally derived to it, are great Maſter-Strokes in this Fable; and if they fell into good Hands, might furniſh out a more pleaſing Canto than any in Spencer.

I came Home this Evening in a very penſive Mood; and to divert me, took up a Volume of Shakeſpear, where I chanced to caſt my Eye up⯑on a Part in the Tragedy of Richard the Third, which filled my Mind with a very agreeable Hor⯑ror. It was the Scene in which that bold, but wicked Prince, is repreſented as ſleeping in his Tent, the Night before the Battle in which he fell. The Poet takes that Occaſion to ſet be⯑fore him in a Viſion, a terrible Aſſembly of Appa⯑ritions, the Ghoſts of all thoſe innocent Perſons whom he is ſaid to have murther'd. Prince Ed⯑ward, Henry VI. the Duke of Clarence, Rivers, Gray, and Vaughan, Lord Haſtings, the Two [255] young Princes Sons to Edward IV. his own Wife, and the Duke of Buckingham, riſe up in their Blood before him, beginning their Speeches with that dreadful Salutation, Let me ſit heavy on thy Soul to Morrow; and concluding with that diſmal Sentence, Deſpair and die. This inſpires the Ty⯑rant with a Dream of his paſt Guilt, and of the approaching Vengeance. He anticipates the fa⯑tal Day of Boſworth, fancies himſelf diſmounted, weltring in his own Blood; and in the Agonies of Deſpair, (before he is throughly awake) ſtarts up with the following Speech:

A Scene written with ſo great Strength of Ima⯑gination, indiſpoſed me from further reading, and threw me into a deep Contemplation. I be⯑gan to reflect upon the different Ends of good and bad Kings; and as this was the Birth-Day of our late Renouned Monarch, I could not forbear thinking on the Departure of that excellent Prince, whoſe Life was crowned with Glory, and his Death with Peace. I let my Mind go ſo fat into this Thought, as to imagine to my ſelf, what might have been the Viſion of his departing Slumbers. He might have ſeen Confederate Kings applauding him in different Languages, Slaves that had been bound in Fetters, lifting up their Hands and bleſſing him, and the Perſecuted in their ſeveral Forms of Worſhip imploring Comfort on his laſt Moments. The Reflection upon this excellent Prince's Mortality had been a very melancholy Entertainment to me, had I not been relieved by the Conſideration of the glori⯑ous Reign which ſucceeds it.

[256] We now ſee as great a Virtue as ever was on the Britiſh Throne, ſurrounded with all the Beau⯑ty of Succeſs. Our Nation may not only boaſt of a long Series of great, regular, and well-laid Deſigns, but alſo of Triumphs and Victories; while we have the Happineſs to ſee our Sovereign exerciſe that true Policy which tends to make a Kingdom great and happy, and at the ſame Time enjoy the good and glorious Effect of it.

I Was very much ſurprized this Evening with a Viſit from one of the Top Toaſts of the Town, who came privately in a Chair, and bolt⯑ed into my Room, while I was reading a Chap⯑ter of Agrippa upon the Occult Sciences; but as ſhe entered with all the Air and Bloom that Na⯑ture ever beſtowed on Woman, I threw down the Conjurer, and met the Charmer. I had no ſooner placed her at my Right Hand by the Fire, but ſhe opened to me the Reaſon of her Viſit. ‘'Mr. Bickerſtaff, (ſaid the fine Creature) I have been your Correſpondent ſome Time, though I never ſaw you before; I have writ by the Name of Maria. You have told me, you were too far gone in Life to think of Love; therefore I am anſwered as to the Paſſion I ſpoke of, and (con⯑tinued ſhe ſmiling) I will not ſtay till you grow young again, (as you Men never fail to do in your Dotage) but am come to conſult you a⯑bout diſpoſing of my ſelf to another. My Per⯑ſon you ſee; my Fortune is very conſiderable; but I am at preſent under much Perplexity how [257] to act in a great Conjuncture. I have Two Lovers, Craſſus and Lorio. Craſſus is prodigiouſly rich, but has no one diſtinguiſhing Quality; tho' at the ſame Time he is not remarkable on the de⯑fective Side. Lorio has travelled, is well-bred, pleaſant in Diſcourſe, diſcreet in his Conduct, a⯑greeable in his Perſon; and with all this, he has a Competency of Fortune without Superfluity. When I conſider Lorio, my Mind is filled with an Idea of the great Satisfactions of a pleaſant Con⯑verſation. When I think of Craſſus, my Equi⯑page, numerous Servants, gay Liveries, and va⯑rious Dreſſes, are oppoſed to the Charms of his Rival. In a Word, when I caſt my Eyes upon Lorio, I forget and deſpiſe Fortune; when I be⯑hold Craſſus, I think only of pleaſing my Vanity, and injoying an uncontrouled Expence in all the Pleaſures of Life, except Love.'’ She pauſed here.

Madam, ſaid I, I am confident you have not ſtated your Caſe with Sincerity, and that there is ſome ſecret Pang which you have concealed from me: For I ſee by your Aſpect the Generoſity of your Mind; and that open ingenuous Air lets me know, that you have too great a Senſe of the ge⯑nerous Paſſion of Love, to prefer the Oſtentation of Life in the Arms of Craſſus, to the Entertain⯑ments and Conveniencies of it in the Company of your beloved Lorio; for ſo he is indeed Madam. You ſpeak his Name with a different Accent from the reſt of your Diſcourſe: The Idea his Image raiſes in you, gives new Life to your Fea⯑tures, and new Grace to your Speech. Nay, bluſh not, Madam, there is no Diſhonour in lo⯑ving a Man of Merit; I aſſure you, I am grieved at this dallying with your ſelf, when you put another in Competition with him, for no other Reaſon but ſuperior Wealth. ‘'To tell you then (ſaid ſhe) the Bottom of my Heart, there's Clo⯑tilda lies by, and plants her ſelf in the Way of Craſſus, and I am confident will ſnap him, if I re⯑fuſe [258] him. I cannot bear to think that ſhe will ſhine above me. When our Coaches meet, to ſee her Chariot hung behind with Four Footmen, and mine with but Two: Hers, powder'd, gay, and ſawcy, kept only for Show; mine, a Cou⯑ple of careful Rogues that are good for ſome⯑thing: I own, I cannot bear that Clotilda ſhould be in all the Pride and Wantonneſs of Wealth, and I only in the Eaſe and Affluence of it.'’

Here I interrupted: Well, Madam, now I ſee your whole Affliction; you could be happy, but that you fear another would be happier: Or rather, you could be ſolidly happy, but that another is to be happy in Appearance. This is an Evil which you muſt get over, or never know Happineſs. We will put the Caſe, Madam, that you married Craſ⯑ſus, and ſhe Lorio. She anſwer'd, Speak not of it—I could tear her Eyes out at the Mention of it. Well then, I pronounce Lorio to be the Man; but I muſt tell you, that what we call Settling in the World, is in a Kind leaving it; and you muſt at once reſolve to keep your Thoughts of Happi⯑neſs within the Reach of your Fortune, and not meaſure it by Compariſon with others.

But indeed, Madam, when I behold that beau⯑teous Form of yours, and conſider the Generali⯑ty of your Sex, as to their Diſpoſal of themſelves in Marriage, or their Parents doing it for them without their own Approbation, I cannot but look upon all ſuch Matches as the moſt impudent Pro⯑ſtitutions. Do but obſerve when you are at a Play, the familiar Wenches that ſit laughing a⯑mong the Men. Theſe appear deteſtable to you in the Boxes: Each of them would give up her Perſon for a Guinea; and ſome of you would take the worſt there for Life for Twenty Thou⯑ſand. If ſo, How do you differ but in Price? As to the Circumſtance of Marriage, I take that to be hardly an Alteration of the Caſe; for Wed⯑lock is but a more ſolemn Proſtitution, where [259] there is not an Union of Minds. You would hardly believe it, but there have been Deſigns even upon me.

A Neighbour in this very Lane, who knows I have, by leading a very wary Life, laid up a little Money, had a great Mind to marry me tohis Daugh⯑ter. I was frequently invited to their Table: The Girl was always very pleaſant and agreeable. After Dinner, Miſs Molly would be ſure to fill my Pipe for me, and put more Sugar than ordinary into my Coffee; for ſhe was ſure I was good-natured—If I chanced to hem, the Mother would applaud my Vigour; and has often ſaid on that Occaſion, I wonder, Mr. Bickerſtaff, you don't marry, I am ſure you would have Children. Things went ſo far, that my Miſtreſs preſented me with a Wrought Nightcap and a Laced Band of her own Working. I began to think of it in earneſt; but one Day, having an Occaſion to ride to Iſlington, as Two or Three People were lifting me upon my Pad, I ſpied her at a convenient Diſtance laughing at her Lover, with a Parcel of Romps of her Acquain⯑tance: One of them, who I ſuppoſe had the ſame Deſign upon me, told me ſhe ſaid, Do you ſee how briskly my old Gentleman mounts? This made me cut off my Amour, and to reflect with my ſelf, that no married Life could be ſo unhappy, as where the Wife propoſes no other Advantage from her Husband, than that of making her ſelf fine, and keeping her out of the Dirt.

My fair Client burſt out a laughing at the Ac⯑count I gave her of my Eſcape, and went away ſeemingly convinced of the Reaſonableneſs of my Diſcourſe to her.

Aſſoon as ſhe was gone, my Maid brought up the following Epiſtle, which by the Style, and the Deſcription ſhe gave of the Perſon, I ſuppoſe was left by Nick Doubt. Harkee, ſaid he, Girl, tell old Basket-hilt, I would have him anſwer it by the firſt Opportunity. What he ſays, is this:

The greateſt Plague of Coxcombs is, that they often break upon you with an impertinent Piece of good Senſe, as this Jackanapes has hit me in a right Place enough. I muſt confeſs, I am as likely to play ſuch a Trick as another; but that Letter he ſpeaks of was really genuine. When I firſt ſet up, I thought it fair enough to let my ſelf know from all Parts, that my Works were wonderfully enquired for, and were become the Diverſion, as well as Inſtruction, of all the choice Spirits in every County of Great Britain. I do not doubt but the more Intelligent of my Readers found it, before this Jackanapes (I can call him no bet⯑ter) took upon him to obſerve upon my Style and my Basket-hilt. A very pleaſant Gentleman of my Acquaintance told me one Day a Story of this Kind of Falſhood and Vanity in an Author.

Maevius ſhowed him a Paper of Verſes, which he ſaid he had received that Morning by the Penny-Poſt from an unknown Hand. My Friend admired them extremely. Sir, ſaid he, this muſt come from a Man that's eminent: You ſee Fire, Life and Spirit, run through the Whole, and at the ſame time a Correctneſs, which ſhows he is uſed to Writing, Pray, Sir, read them over again. He begins again, Title and all; To Mae⯑vius, on his Incomparable Poems. The ſecond Reading was performed with much more Vehe⯑mence and Action than the former; after which my Friend fell into downright Raptures—Why, they are truly ſublime! There is Energy in this Line! Deſcription in that! Why, 'tis the Thing it ſelf! This is perfect Picture! Maevius [261] could bear no more; but, Faith ſays he, Ned, to tell you the plain Truth, I writ them my ſelf.

There goes juſt ſuch another Story of the ſame paternal Tenderneſs in Bavius, an ingenious Con⯑temporary of mine, who had writ ſeveral Come⯑dies, which were rejected by the Players. This my Friend Bavius took for Envy, and therefore prevailed upon a Gentleman to go with him to the Play-houſe, and gave him a new Play of his, deſiring he would perſonate the Author, and read it, to baffle the Spite of the Actors. The Friend conſented, and to reading they went. They had not gone over Three Similies, before Roſcius the Player made the Acting-Author ſtop, and deſired to know, What he meant by ſuch a Rapture? And how it came to paſs, that in this Condition of the Lover, inſtead of acting according to his Circumſtances, he ſpent his Time in conſidering what his preſent State was like? That is very true, ſays the Mock-Author, I believe we had as good ſtrike theſe Lines out. By your Leave, ſays Maevius, you ſhall not ſpoil your Play, you are too modeſt; thoſe very Lines, for ought I know, are as good as any in your Play, and they ſhall ſtand. Well, they go on, and the Particle and ſtood unfortunately at the End of a Verſe, and was made to rhime to the Word ſtand. This Roſ⯑cius excepted againſt. The new Poet gave up that too, and ſaid, he would not diſpute for a Monoſyllable—For a Monoſyllable, ſays the real Author! I can aſſure you, a Monoſyllable may be of as great Force as a Word of Ten Syllables. I tell you, Sir, and is the Connexion of the Matter in that Place; without that Word, you may put all that follows into any other Play as well as this. Beſides, if you leave it out, it will look as if you had put it in only for the Sake of the Rhime. Roſcius perſiſted, aſſuring the Gentle⯑man, that it was impoſſible to ſpeak it but the and muſt be loſt; ſo it might as well be blotted [162] out. Bavius ſnatched his Play out of their Hands, ſaid they were both Blockheads, and went off; repeating a Couplet, becauſe he would not make his Exit irregularly. A witty Man of theſe Days compared this true and feigned Poet to the con⯑tending Mothers before Solomon: The true One was eaſily diſcovered from the Pretender, by re⯑fuſing to ſee his Offspring diſſected.

I Know no Manner of Speaking ſo offenſive as that of giving Praiſe, and cloſing it with an Exception; which proceeds (where Men do not do it to introduce Malice, and make Calumny more effectual) from the common Error of conſi⯑dering Man as a perfect Creature. But if we rightly examine Things, we ſhall find, that there is a Sort of Oeconomy in Providence, that one ſhall excel where another is defective, in order to make Men more uſeful to each other, and mix them in Society. This Man having this Talent, and that Man another, is as neceſſary in Conver⯑ſation, as one profeſſing one Trade, and another another, is beneficial in Commerce. The happi⯑eſt Climate does not produce all Things; and it was ſo ordered that one Part of the Earth ſhould want the Product of another, for uniting Man⯑kind in a general Correſpondence and good Un⯑derſtanding. It is therefore Want of good Senſe as well as good Nature, to ſay, simplicius has a [263] better Judgment, but not ſo much Wit as La⯑tius; for that theſe have not each other's Capaci⯑ties, is no more a Diminution to either, than if you ſhould ſay, Simplicius is not Latius, or Latius not Simplicius. The Heathen World had ſo little Notion that Perfection was to be expected amongſt Men, that among them any one Quality or En⯑dowment in an Heroick Degree made a God. Hercules had Strength; but it was never objected to him that he wanted Wit. apollo preſided over Wit, and it was never asked whether he had Strength. We hear no Exceptions againſt the Beauty of Minerva, or the Wiſdom of Venus. Theſe wiſe Heathens were glad to immortalize any one ſerviceable Gift, and overlook all Imper⯑fections in the Perſon who had it: But with us it is far otherwiſe, for we reject many eminent Virtues, if they are accompanied with one appa⯑rent Weakneſs. The reflecting after this Man⯑ner, made me account for the ſtrange Delight Men take in reading Lampoons and Scandal, with which the Age abounds, and of which I receive frequent Complaints. Upon mature Conſidera⯑tion, I find it is principally for this Reaſon, that the worſt of Mankind, the Libellers, receive ſo much Encouragement in the World. The low Race of Men take a ſecret Pleaſure in finding an eminent Character levelled to their Condition by a Report of its Defects, and keep themſelves in Countenance, though they are excelled in a thou⯑ſand Virtues, if they believe they have in com⯑mon with a great Perſon any one Fault. The Libeller falls in with this Humour, and gratifies this Baſeneſs of Temper, which is naturally an Enemy to extraordinary Merit. It is from this, that Libel and Satyr are promiſcuouſly joined to⯑gether in the Notions of the Valgar, though the Satyriſt and Libeller differ as much as the Magi⯑ſtrate and the Murderer. In the Conſideration of Humane Life, the Satyriſt never falls upon Per⯑ſons [264] who are not glaringly faulty, and the Libel⯑ler on none but who are conſpicuouſly commen⯑dable. Were I to expoſe any Vice in a good or great Man, it ſhould certainly be by correcting it in ſome one where that Crime was the moſt diſtinguiſhing Part of the Character; as Pages are chaſtized for the Admonition of Princes. When it is performed otherwiſe, the Vicious are kept in Credit, by placing Men of Merit in the ſame Accuſation. But all the Paſquils, Lam⯑poons and Libels, we meet with now-a-days, are a Sort of playing with the Four and twenty Letters, and throwing them into Names and Characters, without Senſe, Truth or Wit. In this Caſe, I am in great Perplexity to know whom they mean, and ſhould be in Diſtreſs for thoſe they abuſe, if I did not ſee their Judgment and Ingenuity in thoſe they commend. This is the true Way of examining a Libel; and when Men conſider, that no one Man living thinks the bet⯑ter of their Heroes and Patrons for the Panegy⯑rick given 'em, none can think themſelves leſ⯑ſen'd by their Invective. The Hero or Patron in a Libel, is but a Scavenger to carry off the Dirt, and by that very Employment is the filthieſt Creature in the Street. Dedications and Panegy⯑ricks are frequently ridiculous, let them be ad⯑dreſſed where they will; but at the Front, or in the Body of a Libel, to commend a Man, is ſay⯑ing to the Perſons applauded, My Lord, or, Sir, I have pulled down all Men that the reſt of the World think Great and Honourable, and here is a clear Stage; you may as you pleaſe be valiant or wiſe, you may chooſe to be on the Military or Civil Liſt; for there is no one brave who commands, or juſt who has Power: You may rule the World now it is empty, which exploded you when it was full: I have knocked out the Brains of all whom Mankind thought good for any Thing; and I doubt not, but you will reward that Invention, which ſound out [265] the only Expedient to make your Lordſhip, or your Worſhip, of any Conſideration.

Had I the Honour to be in a Libel, and had eſcaped the Approbation of the Author, I ſhould look upon it exactly in this Manner. But tho' it is a Thing thus perfectly indifferent, who is ex⯑alted or debaſed in ſuch Performances, yet it is not ſo with Relation to the Authors of them; therefore I ſhall, for the good of my Country, hereafter take upon me to puniſh theſe Wretches. What is already paſs'd may die away according to its Nature, and continue in its preſent Oblivi⯑on; but for the future, I ſhall take Notice of ſuch Enemies to Honour and Virtue, and pre⯑ſerve them to immortal Infamy: Their Names ſhall give freſh Offence many Ages hence, and be detected a Thouſand Years after the Commiſſion of their Crime. It ſhall not avail, that theſe Children of Infamy publiſh their Works under ſeigned Names, or under none at all; for I am [...] perfectly well acquainted with the Styles of all my Contemporaries, that I ſhall not fail of do⯑ing them Juſtice, with their proper Names, and at their full Length. Let therefore theſe Miſ⯑creants enjoy their preſent Act of Oblivion, and take Care how they offend hereafter.

But to avert our Eyes from ſuch Objects, it is [...]thinks but requiſite to ſettle our Opinion in the Caſe of Praiſe and Blame; and I believe, the on⯑ly [...] Way to cure that Senſibility of Reproach. [...]hich is a common Weakneſs with the moſt vir⯑tuous Men, is to fix their Regard firmly upon on⯑ly what is ſtrictly true, in Relation to their Ad⯑vantage, as well as Diminution. For if I am pleaſed with Commendation which I do not de⯑ſerve, I ſhall from the ſame Temper be concern'd at Scandal I do not deſerve. But he that can think of falſe Applauſe with as much Contempt as falſe Detraction, will certainly be prepared for all Adventures, and will become all Occaſions.

THE French Humour of writing Epiſtles, and publiſhing their fulſome Compliments to each other, is a Thing I frequently complain of in this Place. It is, methinks, from the Preva⯑lence of this ſilly Cuſtom, that there is ſo little Inſtruction in the Converſation of our diſtant Friends: For which Reaſon, during the whole Courſe of my Life, I have deſired my Acquain⯑tance, when they write to me, rather to ſay ſomething which ſhould make me wiſh my ſelf with them, than make me Compliments that they wiſhed themſelves with me. By this Means, I have by me a Collection of Letters from moſt Parts of the World, which are as naturally of the Growth of the Place, as any Herb, Tree or Plant, of the Soil. This I take to be the proper Uſe of an Epiſtolary Commerce. To deſire to know how Damon goes on with his Courtſhip to Silvia, or how the Wine taſts at the Old, Devil, are thread-bare Subjects, and cold Treats, which our abſent Friends might have given us without go⯑ing out of Town for 'em. A Friend of mine who went to travel, uſed me far otherwiſe; for he gave me a Proſpect of the Place, or an Account of the People, from every Country through which be paſſed. Among others which I was looking ever this Evening, I am not a little de⯑lighted with this which follows:

I think they ought, in thoſe Parts where the Materials are ſo eaſy to work, and at the ſame Time ſo durable, (when any one of their H [...]es comes Home from the Wars) to erect his Statue [270] In Snow upon the Mountains, there to remain from Generation to Generation.

A Gentleman, who is apt to expatiate upon any Hint, took this Occaſion to deliver his Opinion upon our ordinary Method of ſending young Gen⯑tlemen to travel for their Education. It is certain, ſaid he, if Gentlemen travel at an Age proper for them, during the Courſe of their Voyages, their Accounts to their Friends, and after their Return, their Diſcourſes and Converſations, will have in them ſomething above what we can meet with from thoſe who have not had thoſe Advantages. At the ſame Time it is to be obſerv'd, that every Temper and Genius is not qualified for this Way of Improvement. Men may change their Cli⯑mate, but they cannot their Nature. A Man that goes out a Fool, cannot ride or ſail himſelf into common Senſe. Therefore let me but walk over London-Bridge with a young Man, and I'll tell you infallibly whether going over the Rialto at Venice will make him wiſer.

It is not to be imagined how many I have ſaved in my Time from Baniſhment, by letting their Parents know they were good for nothing. But this is to be done with much Tenderneſs. There is my Couſin Harry has a Son, who is the dulleſt Mortal that was ever born into our Houſe: He had got his Trunk and his Books all pack'd up to be tranſported into Foreign Parts, for no Reaſon but becauſe the Boy never talked; and his Father ſaid, he wanted to know the World. I could not ſay to a fond Parent that the Boy was dull, but looked grave; and told him, the Youth was very thoughtful, and I feared he might have ſome Doubts about Religion, with which it was not proper to go into Roman-Catholick Countries. He is accordingly kept here till he declares him⯑ſelf upon ſome Points, which I am ſure he will never think of. By this Means I have prevented the Diſhonour of having a Fool of our Houſe [271] laughed at in all Parts of Europe. He is now with his Father upon his own Eſtate, and he has ſent to me to get him a Wife, which I ſhall do with all convenient Speed; but it ſhall be ſuch a one, whoſe good Nature ſhall hide his Faults, and good Senſe ſupply 'em. The Truth of it is, that Race is of the true Britiſh Kind: They are of our Country only; it hurts 'em to tranſplant 'em, and they are deſtroyed if you pretend to improve 'em. Men of this ſolid Make are not to be hurried up and down the World, for (if I may ſo ſpeak) they are naturally at their Wit's End; and it is an impertinent Part to diſturb their Repoſe, that they may give you only an Hiſtory of their Bodily Occurrences, which is all they are capable of obſerving. Harry had an el⯑der Brother who was tried in his Way: I re⯑member all he could talk of at his Return was, That he had like to have been drowned at ſuch a Place, he fell our of a Chaſe at another, he had a better Stomach when he moved Northward than when he turned his Courſe to the Parts in the South, and ſo forth. It is therefore very much to be conſidered, what Senſe a Perſon has of Things when he is ſetting out; and if he then knows none of his Friends and Acquaintance but by their Clothes and Faces, it is my Opinion, that he ſtay at Home. His Parents ſhould take Care to marry him, and ſee what they can get out of him that Way; for there is a certain Sort of Men, who are no otherwiſe to be regarded but as they deſcend from Men of Conſequence, and may beget valuable Succeſſors. And if we con⯑ſider, that Men are to be eſteemed only as they are uſeful, while a ſtupid Wretch is at the Head of a great Family, we may ſay, the Race is ſuſpended, as properly as when it is all gone, we ſay, it is extinct.

I had ſeveral Hints and Advertiſements from unknown Hands, that ſome, who are Enemies to my Labours, deſign to demand the faſhionable Way of Satisfaction for the Diſturbance my Lu⯑cubrations have given them. I confeſs, as Things now ſtand, I don't know how to deny ſuch Invi⯑ters, and am preparing my ſelf accordingly: I have brought Pumps and Files, and am every Morning practiſing in my Chamber. My Neigh⯑bour, the Dancing-Maſter, has demanded of me, Why I take this Liberty, ſince I would not al⯑low it him? But I anſwered, His was an Act of an indifferent Nature, and mine of Neceſſity. My late Treatiſes againſt Duels have ſo far diſ⯑obliged the Fraternity of the noble Science of Defencee, that I can get none of them to ſhow me ſo much as one Paſs. I am therefore obliged to learn by Book, and have accordingly ſeveral Volumes, wherein all the Poſtures are exactly delineated. I muſt confeſs, I am ſhy of letting People ſee me at this Exerciſe, becauſe of my Flannel Waſtcoat, and my Spectacles, which I am forced to fix on, the better to obſerve the Poſture of the Enemy.

I have upon my Chamber-Walls, drawn at full Length, the Figures of all Sorts of Men, from Eight Foot to Three Foot Two Inches. Within this Height I take it, that all the fighting Men of Great Britain are comprehended. But as I puſh, I make Allowances for my being of a lank and ſpare Body, and have chalked out in every Figure my own Dimenſions; for I ſcorn to rob any Man of his Life by taking Advantage of his Breadth: Therefore I preſs purely in a Line down from his Noſe, and take no more of him to aſſault, than he has of me: For to ſpeak impartially, if a lean Fel⯑low wounds a fat One in any Part to the Right or Left, whether it be in Cart or in Terſe, beyond the Dimenſions of the ſaid lean Fellow's own [273] Breadth, I take it to be Murder, and ſuch a Mur⯑der as is below a Gentleman to commit. As I am ſpare, I am alſo very tall, and behave my ſelf with Relation to that Advantage with the ſame Punctilio; and I am ready to ſtoop or ſtand, ac⯑cording to the Stature of my Adverſary. I muſt confeſs, I have had great Succeſs this Morning, and have hit every Figure round the Room in a mortal Part, without receiving the leaſt Hurt, ex⯑cept a little Scratch by falling on my Face, in puſhing at one at the lower End of my Cham⯑ber; but I recovered ſo quick, and jumped ſo nimbly into my Guard, that if he had been alive, he could not have hurt me. It is confeſſed, I have writ againſt Duels with ſome Warmth; but in all my Diſcourſes, I have not ever ſaid, that I knew how a Gentleman could avoid a Duel if he were provoked to it; and ſince that Cuſtom is now become a Law, I know nothing but the Le⯑giſlative Power, with new Animadverſions upon it, can put us in a Capacity of denying Chal⯑lenges, though we are afterwards hanged for it. But no more of this at preſent. As Things ſtand, I ſhall put up no more Affronts; and I ſhall be ſo far from taking ill Words, that I will not take ill Looks. I therefore warn all young hot Fel⯑lows, not to look hereafter more terrible than their Neighbours; for if they ſtare at me with their Hats cocked higher than other People, I won't bear it. Nay, I give Warning to all Peo⯑ple in general to look kindly at me; for I'll bear no Frowns, even from Ladies; and if any Wo⯑man pretends to look ſcornfully at me, I ſhall de⯑mand Satisfaction of the next of Kin of the Maſ⯑culine Gender.

THat which we call Gallantry to Women, ſeems to be the heroick Virtue of private Perſons; and there never breathed one Man, who did not, in that Part of his Days wherein he was recommending himſelf to his Miſtreſs, do ſome⯑thing beyond his ordinary Courſe of Life. As this has a very great Effect even upon the moſt ſlow and common Men; ſo, upon ſuch as it finds qualified with Virtue and Merit, it ſhines out in p oportionable Degrees of Excellence: It gives new Grace to the moſt eminent Accompliſh⯑ments; and he, who of himſelf has either Wit, Wiſdom, or Valour, exerts each of theſe noble Endowments when he becomes a Lover, with a certain Beauty of Action above what was ever obſerved in him before; and all who are without any one of theſe Qualities, are to be looked up⯑on as the Rabble of Mankind. I was talking after this Manner in a Corner of this Place with an old Acquaintance, who taking me by the Hand, ſaid, Mr. Bickerſtaff, your Diſcourſe recals to my Mind a Story, which I have longed to tell you ever ſince I read that Article, wherein you deſire your Friends to give you Accounts of obſcure Me⯑rit. The Story I had of him is literally true, and well known to be ſo in the Country wherein the Circumſtances were tranſacted. He acquainted me with the Names of the Perſons concerned, [275] which I ſhall change into feigned Ones, there being a Reſpect due to their Families, that are ſtill in Being, as well as that the Names them⯑ſelves would not be ſo familiar to an Engliſh Ear. The Adventure really happened in Denmark; and if I can remember all the Paſſages, I doubt not but it will be as moving to my Readers as it was to me.

Clarinda and Chloe, Two very fine Women, were bred up as Siſters in the Family of Romeo, who was the Father of Chloe, and the Guardian of Clarinda. Philander, a young Gentleman of a good Perſon, and charming Converſation, be⯑ing a Friend of old Romeo's, frequented his Houſe, and by that Means was much in Conver⯑ſation with the young Ladies, though ſtill in the Preſence of the Father and the Guardian. The Ladies both entertained a ſecret Paſſion for him, and could ſee well enough, notwithſtanding the Delight which he really took in Romeo's Conver⯑ſation, that there was ſomething more in his Heart which made him ſo aſſiduous a Viſitant. Each of them thought her ſelf the happy Wo⯑man; but the Perſon beloved was Chloe. It happened that both of them were at a Play in a Carnaval Evening, when it is the Faſhion there (as well as in moſt Countries of Europe) both for Men and Women to appear in Masks and Diſ⯑guiſes. It was on that memorable Night in the Year 1679, when the Playhouſe, by ſome un⯑happy Accident, was ſet on Fire. Philander, in the firſt Hurry of the Diſaſter, immediately ran where his Treaſure was, burſt open the Door of the Box, ſnatched the Lady up in his Arms, and with unſpeakable Reſolution and good Fortune carried her off ſafe. He was no ſooner out of the Crowd, but he ſet her down; and graſping her in his Arms, with all the Raptures of a deſ rving Lover, How happy am I, ſays he, in an Oppor⯑tunity to tell you I love you more than all [276] Things, and of ſhewing you the Sincerity of my Paſſion at the very firſt Declaration of it. My dear, dear Philander, ſays the Lady, pulling off her Mask, this is not a Time for Art; you are much dearer to me than the Life you have pre⯑ſerved: And the Joy of my preſent Deliverance does not tranſport me ſo much as the Paſſion which occaſioned it. Who can tell the Grief, the Aſtoniſhment, the Terror, that appeared in the Face of Philander, when he ſaw the Perſon he ſpoke to was Clarinds. After a ſhort Pauſe, Ma⯑dam, ſays he, with the Looks of a dead Man, we are both miſtaken; and immediately flew away, without hearing the diſtreſſed Clarinda, who had juſt Strength enough to cry out, Cruel Philander, Why did you not leave me in the Theatre? Crowds of People immediately ga⯑thered about her, and after having brought her to her ſelf, conveyed her to the Houſe of the good old unhappy Romeo. Philander was now preſſing againſt a whole Tide of People at the Doors of the Theatre, and ſtriving to enter with more Earneſtneſs than any there endeavoured to get out. He did it at laſt, and with much Diffi⯑culty forced his Way to the Box where his beloved Chloe ſtood, expecting her Fate amidſt this Scene of Terror and Diſtraction. She revived at the Sight of Philander, who fell about her Neck with a Tenderneſs not to be expreſſed; and amidſt a Thouſand Sobs and Sighs, told her his Love, and his dreadful Miſtake. The Stage was now in Flames, and the whole Houſe full of Smoke; the Entrance was quite barred up with Heaps of People, who had fallen upon one another as they endeavoured to get out; Swords were drawn, Shrieks heard on all Sides; and in ſhort, no Poſſibility of an Eſcape for Philander himſelf, had he been capable of making it without his Chloe. But his Mind was above ſuch a Thought, and wholly employed in weeping, condoling, [277] and comforting. He catches her in his Arms. The Fire ſurrounds them, while—I cannot go on—

Were I an Infidel, Misfortunes like this would convince me, that there muſt be an Hereafter: For who can believe, that ſo much Virtue could meet with ſo great Diſtreſs without a following Reward. As for my Part, I am ſo old-faſhioned, as firmly to believe, that all who periſh in ſuch generous Enterprizes, are relieved from the fur⯑ther Exerciſe of Life; and Providence; which ſees their Virtue conſummate and manifeſt, takes them to an immediate Reward, in a Being more ſuitable to the Grandeur of their Spirits. What elſe can wipe away our Tears, when we contem⯑plate ſuch undeſerved, ſuch irreparable Diſtreſſes? It was a ſublime Thought in ſome of the Hea⯑thens of old:

That is in other Words, ‘"The ſame Employ⯑ments and Inclinations which were the Enter⯑tainment of virtuous Men upon Earth, make up their Happineſs in Elyſium.'’

When I came Home this Evening, I found a Preſent from Mr. Charles Lillie, the Perfumer at the Corner of Beauford-Buildings, with a Letter of Thanks for the Mention I made of him. He tells me, ſeveral of my gentle Readers have o⯑bliged me in buying at his Shop upon my Recom⯑mendation. I have enquired into the Man's Capacity, and find him an Adept in his Way. He has ſeveral Helps to Diſcourſe beſides Snuff, (which is the beſt Barcelona) and ſells an Orange-Flower-Water, which ſeems to me to have in it the right Spirit of Brains; and I am informed, he extracts it according to the Manner uſed in [278] Greſham College. I recommend it to the Hand⯑kerchiefs of all young Pleaders: It cures or ſup⯑plies all Pauſes and Hentations in Speech, and creates a general Alacrity of the Spirit. When it is uſed as a Gargle, it gives Volubility to the Tongue, and never fails of that neceſſary Step towards pleaſing others, making a Man pleaſed with himſelf. I have taken Security of him, That he ſhall not raiſe the Price of any of his Com⯑modities for theſe or any other occult Quali⯑ties in them; but he is to ſell them at the ſame Price which you give at the common Perfumers. Mr. Lillie has brought further Security, That he will not ſell the Boxes made for Politicians to Lovers; nor on the contrary, thoſe proper for Lovers, to Men of Speculation: At this Time, to avoid Confuſion, the beſt Orangerie for Beaus, and right Multy for Politicians.

THere are ſeveral Perſons who have many Plea⯑ſures and Entertainments in their Poſſeſſion which they do not enjoy. It is therefore a kind and good Office to acquaint them with their own Happineſs, and turn their Attention to ſuch In⯑ſtances of their good Fortune which they are apt to overlook. Perſons in the married State often want ſuch a Monitor, and pine away their Days, by looking upon the ſame Condition in Anguiſh and Murmur, which carries with it in the Opinion of othe s a Complication of all the Pleaſures of Life, and a Retreat from its Inquietudes.

I am led into this Thought by a Viſit I made an old Friend, who was formerly my School-fellow. He came to Town laſt Week with his Family for the Winter, and Yeſterday Morning ſent me Word his Wife expected me to Dinner. I am as it were at Home at that Houſe, and every Member of it knows me for their Well-wiſher. I cannot indeed expreſs the Pleaſure it is, to be met by the Children with ſo much Joy as I am when I go thither: The Boys and Girls ſtrive who ſhall come firſt when they think it is I that am knocking at the Door; and that Child which loſes the Race to me, runs back again to tell the Father it is Mr. Bickerſtaff. This Day I was led in by a pretty Girl that we all thought muſt have forgot me; for the Family has been out of [280] Town theſe Two Years. Her knowing me again was a mighty Subject with us, and took up our Diſcourſe at the firſt Entrance. After which, they began to rally me upon a Thouſand little Stories they heard in the Country about my Mar⯑riage to one of my Neighbour's Daughters: Upon which the Gentleman, my Friend, ſaid, ‘'Nay, if Mr. Bickerſtaff marries a Child of any of his old Companions, I hope mine ſhall have the Preference; there's Mrs. Mary is now Six⯑teen, and would make him as fine a Widow as the beſt of them: But I know him too well; he is ſo enamour'd with the very Memory of thoſe who flouriſh'd in our Youth, that he will not ſo much as look upon the modern Beauties. I re⯑member, old Gentleman, how often you went Home in a Day to refreſh your Countenance and Dreſs when Teraminta reign'd in your Heart. As we came up in the Coach, I repeat⯑ed to my Wife ſome of your Verſes on her."’ With ſuch Reflections on little Paſſages which happened long ago, we paſſed our Time during a chearful and elegant Meal. After Dinner his Lady left the Room, as did alſo the Children. As ſoon as we were alone, he took me by the Hand; Well, my good Friend, ſays he, I am heartily glad to ſee thee; I was afraid you would never have ſeen all the Company that dined with you to Day again. Do not you think the good Woman of the Houſe a little alter'd ſince you followed her from the Play-houſe, to find out who ſhe was for me? I perceived a Tear fall down his Cheek as he ſpoke, which moved me not a little. But to turn the Diſcourſe, ſaid I, She is not indeed quite that Creature ſhe was when ſhe returned me the Letter I carried from you; and told me, She hoped, as I was a Gentle⯑man, I would be employ'd no more to trouble her who had never offended me, but would be ſo much the Gentleman's Friend as to diſſwade him [281] from a Purſuit which he could never ſucceed in. You may remember, I thought her in earneſt, and you were forced to employ your Couſin Will. who made his Siſter get acquainted with her for you. You cannot expect her to be for ever Fif⯑teen. Fifteen? replied my good Friend: Ah! You little underſtand, you that have lived a Batche⯑lor, how great, how exquiſite, a Pleaſure there is in being really beloved! It is impoſſible that the moſt beauteous Face in Nature ſhould raiſe in me ſuch pleaſing Ideas, as when I look upon that excellent Woman. That Fading in her Countenance is chiefly cauſed by her watching with me in my Fever. This was followed by a Fit of Sickneſs, which had like to have carried her off laſt Winter. I tell you ſincerely, I have ſo many Obligations to her, that I cannot with any Sort of Moderation think of her preſent State of Health. But as to what you ſay of Fifteen, ſhe gives me every Day Pleaſures beyond what I ever knew in the Poſſeſſion of her Beauty when I was in the Vigour of Youth. Every Moment of her Life brings me freſh Inſtances of her Complacency to my Inclinations, and her Prudence in Regard to my Fortune. Her Face is to me much more beautiful than when I firſt ſaw it; there is no Decay in any Feature which I cannot trace from the very Inſtant it was occa⯑ſioned, by ſome anxious Concern for my Wel⯑fare and Intereſts. Thus at the ſame Time, methinks, the Love I conceived towards her for what ſhe was, is heightened by my Gratitude for what ſhe is. The Love of a Wife is as much above the idle Paſſion commonly called by that Name, as the loud Laughter of Buffoons is in⯑ferior to the elegant Mirth of Gentlemen. Oh! ſhe is an ineſtimable Jewel. In her Examina⯑tion of her Houſhold Affairs, ſhe ſhows a cer⯑tain Fearfulneſs to find a Fault, which makes her Servants obey her like Children; and the [282] meaneſt we have, has an ingenuous Shame for an Offence, not always to be ſeen in Children in other Families. I ſpeak freely to you, my old Friend; ever ſince her Sickneſs, Things that gave me the quickeſt Joy before, turn now to a cer⯑tain Anxiety. As the Children play in the next Room, I know the poor Things by their Steps, and am conſidering what they muſt do ſhould they loſe their Mother in their tender Years. The Pleaſure I uſed to take in telling my Boy Stories of the Battles, and asking my Girl Queſtions a⯑bout the Diſpoſal of her Baby, and the Goſſiping of it, is turned into inward Reflection and Me⯑lancholy.

He would have gone on in this tender Way, when the good Lady entered, and with an inexpreſſible Sweetneſs in her Countenance told us, ſhe had been ſearching her Cloſet for ſomething very good to treat ſuch an old Friend as I was. Her Huſ⯑band's Eyes ſparkled with Pleaſure at the Chear⯑fulneſs of her Countenance; and I ſaw all his Fears vaniſh in an Inſtant. The Lady obſerving ſomething in our Looks which ſhewed we had been more ſerious than ordinary, and ſeeing her Husband receive her with great Concern under a forced Chearfulneſs, immediately gueſſed at what we had been talking of; and applying her ſelf to me, ſaid, with a Smile, Mr. Bickerſtaff, don't be⯑lieve a Word of what he tells you, I ſhall ſtill live to have you for my Second, as I have often promiſed you, unleſs he takes more Care of him⯑ſelf than he has done ſince his coming to Town. You muſt know, he tells me, That he finds Lon⯑don is a much more healthy Place than the Coun⯑try; for he ſees ſeveral of his old Acquaintance and School-fellows are here, young Fellows with fair full-bottom'd Periwigs. I could ſcarce keep him this Morning from going out open⯑breaſted. My Friend, who is always extreamly delighted with her agreeable Humour, made her [283] ſit down with us. She did it with that Eaſineſs which is peculiar to Women of Senſe; and to keep up the good Humour ſhe had brought in with her, turned her Raillery upon me: Mr. Bick⯑erſtaff, you remember you followed me one Night from the Play-houſe; ſuppoſing you ſhould carry me thither to Morrow Night, and lead me into the Front-Box. This put us into a long Field of Diſcourſe about the Beauties, who were Mothers to the preſent, and ſhined in the Boxes Twenty Years ago. I told her, I was glad ſhe had tranſ⯑ferred ſo many of her Charms, and I did not queſtion but her eldeſt Daughter was within half a Year of being a Toaſt.

We were pleaſing our ſelves with this fantaſti⯑cal Preferment of the young Lady, when on a ſudden we were alarm'd with the Noiſe of a Drum, and immediately enter'd my little Godſon to give me a Point of War. His Mother, between Laugh⯑ing and Chiding, would have put him out of the Room; but I would not part with him ſo. I found, upon Converſation with him, though he was a little noiſy in his Mirth, that the Child had excellent Parts, and was a great Maſter of all the Learning on t'other Side Eight Years old. I perceived him a very great Hiſtorian in Aeſop's Fables: But he frankly declared to me his Mind, That he did not delight in that Learning, be⯑cauſe he did not believe they were true; for which Reaſon I found he had very much turned his Studies for about a Twelvemonth paſt, into the Lives and Adventures of Don Bellianis of Greece, Guy of Warwick, the Seven Champions, and other Hiſtorians of that Age. I could not but obſerve the Satisfaction the Father took in the Forwardneſs of his Son; and that theſe Di⯑verſions might turn to ſome Profit, I found the Boy had made Remarks, which might be of Service to him during the Courſe of his whole [284] Life. He would tell you the Miſmanagements of John Hickathrift, find Fault with the paſſionate Temper in Bevis of Southampton, and loved St. George for being the Champion of England; and by this Means had his Thoughts inſenſibly moulded into the Notions of Diſcretion, Virtue, and Honour. I was extolling his Accompliſh⯑ments, when the Mother told me, That the lit⯑tle Girl, who led me in this Morning, was in her Way a better Scholar than he: Betty (ſays ſhe) deals chiefly in Fairies and Sprights; and ſometimes in a Winter Night, will terrifie the Maids with her Accounts, till they are afraid to go up to Bed.

I ſat with them till it was very late, ſome⯑times in merry, ſometimes in ſerious Diſcourſe, with this particular Pleaſure, which gives the only true Reliſh to all Converſation, a Senſe that every one of us liked each other. I went Home, conſidering the different Conditions of a married Life and that of a Batchelor; and I muſt confeſs, it ſtruck me with a ſecret Concern, to reflect, that whenever I go off, I ſhall leave no Traces behind me. In this penſive Mood I returned to my Family; that is to ſay, to my Maid, my Dog, and my Cat, who only can be the better or worſe for what happens to me.

IT has coſt me very much Care and Thought to marſhal and fix the People under their pro⯑per Denominations, and to range them accor⯑ding to their reſpective Characters. Theſe my Endeavours have been received with unexpected Succeſs in one Kind, but neglected in another: For though I have many Readers, I have but few Converts. This muſt certainly proceed from a falſe Opinion, That what I write is deſigned rather to amuſe and entertain, than convince and inſtruct. I enter'd upon my Eſſays with a Decla⯑ration, that I ſhould conſider Mankind in quite another Manner than they had hitherto been re⯑preſented to the ordinary World; and aſſerted, that none but an uſeful Life ſhould be with me any Life at all. But leſt this Doctrine ſhould have made this ſmall Progreſs towards the Con⯑viction of Mankind, becauſe it may appear to the Unlearned light and whimſical, I muſt take Leave to unfold the Wiſdom and Antiquity of my firſt Propoſition in theſe my Eſſays, to wit, That every Worthleſs Man is a Dead Man. This Notion is as old as Pythagoras, in whoſe School it was a Point of Diſcipline, That if among the [...], or Probationers, there were any who grew weary of ſtudying to be uſeful, and re⯑turned [286] to an idle Life, the reſt were to regard them as dead; and upon their Departing, to per⯑form their Obſequies, and raiſe them Tombs with Inſcriptions to warn others of the like Mortality, and quicken them to Reſolutions of refining their Souls above that wretched State. It is upon a like Suppoſition, that young Ladies at this very Time in Roman-Catholick Countries are receiv'd into ſome Nunneries with their Cof⯑fins, and with the Pomp of a formal Funeral, to ſignifie, That henceforth they are to be of no further Uſe, and conſequently Dead. Nor was Pythagoras himſelf the firſt Author of this Sym⯑bol, with whom, and with the Hebrews, it was generally receiv'd. Much more might be offered in Illuſtration of this Doctrine from Sacred Au⯑thority, which I recommend to my Reader's own Reflection; who will eaſily recollect, from Places which I do not think fit to quote here, the forcible Manner of applying the Words, Dead and Living, to Men as they are Good or Bad.

I have therefore compoſed the following Scheme of Exiſtence for the Benefit both of the Living and the Dead, tho' chiefly for the latter, whom I muſt deſire to read it with all poſſible Attention. In the Number of the Dead, I com⯑prehend all Perſons, of what Title or Dignity ſoever, who beſtow moſt of their Time in Eat⯑ing and Drinking to ſupport that imaginary Exiſtence of theirs, which they call Life; or in dreſſing and adorning thoſe Shadows and Appa⯑ritions which are look'd upon by the Vulgar as real Men and Women. In ſhort, whoever reſides in the World without having any Buſineſs in it, and paſſes away an Age without ever thinking on the Errand for which he was ſent hithe [...], is to me a Dead Man to all Intents and Purpoſes; and I deſire that he may be ſo reputed. The Li⯑ving are only thoſe that are ſome Way or other [287] laudably employed in the Improvement of their own Minds, or for the Advantage of others; and even among theſe, I ſhall only reckon into their Lives that Part of their Time which has been ſpent in the Manner above-mentioned. By there Means, I am afraid, we ſhall find the longeſt Lives not to conſiſt of many Months, and the greateſt Part of the Earth to be quite unpeopled. According to this Syſtem we may obſerve, that ſome Men are born at Twenty Years of Age, ſome at Thirty, ſome at Threeſcore, and ſome not above an Hour before they die; nay, we may obſerve Multitudes that die without ever being born, as well as many dead Perſons that fill up the Bulk of Mankind, and make a better Figure in the Eyes of the Ignorant, than thoſe who are alive, and in their proper and full State of Health. However, ſince there may be many good Subjects that pay their Taxes, and live peaceably in their Habitations, who are not yet born, or have departed this Life ſeveral Years ſince, my Deſign is, to encourage both to join themſelves as ſoon as poſſible to the Number of the Living: For as I invite the former to break forth into Being, and become good for ſome⯑thing, ſo I allow the latter a State of Refuſci⯑tation; which I chiefly mention for the Sake of a Perſon, who has lately publiſhed an Ad⯑vertiſement, with ſeveral ſcurrilous Terms in it, that do by no Means become a dead Man to give: It is my departed Friend John Par⯑tridge, who conclud [...]s the Advertiſement of his next Year's Almanack with the following Note:

When an Engineer finds his Guns have no [...] had their intended Effect, he changes his Batte⯑ries. I am forced at preſent to take this Method; and inſtead of continuing to write againſt the Singularity ſome are guilty of in their Habit and Behaviour, I ſhall henceforward deſire them to perſevere in it; and not only ſo, but ſhall take it as a Favour of all the Coxcombs in the Town if they will ſet Marks upon themſelves, and b [...] ſome Particular in their Dreſs, ſhow to what Cla [...] they belong. It would be very obliging in a [...] ſuch Perſons, who feel in themſelves that they are not ſound of Underſtanding, to give the World Notice of it, and ſpare Mankind the Pains of finding them out. A Cane upon the Fifth Button, ſhall from henceforth be the Type of a Dapper; Red-heeled Shoes, and an Hat hung upon one Side of the Head, ſhall ſignify a Smart; a good Periwig made into a Twiſt, with a brisk Cock, ſhall ſpeak a Mettled Fel⯑low; and an upper Lip covered with Snuff, de⯑notes a Coffee-houſe Stateſman. But as it is re⯑quired that all Coxcombs hang out their Signs it is on the other Hand expected, that Men of real Merit ſhould avoid any Thing particular is their Dreſs, Gait, or Behaviour. For, as we old Men delight in Proverbs, I cannot forbear bring⯑ing out one on this Occaſion, That good Wi [...] needs no Buſh. I muſt not leave this Subject without reflecting on ſeveral Perſons I have lately met with, who at a Diſtance ſeemed very terri⯑ble; but upon a ſtricter Enquiry into their Looks and Features, appeared as meek and harmleſs as any of my own Neighbours. Theſe are Coun⯑try Gentlemen, who of late Years have taken [289] up an Humour of coming to Town in Red Coats, whom an arch Wag of my Acquaintance uſed to deſcribe very well, by calling them Sheep in Wolves Cloathing. I have often wondered, that honeſt Gentlemen, who are good Neighbours, and live quietly in their own Poſſeſſions, ſhould take it in their Heads to frighten the Town after this unreaſonable Manner. I ſhall think my ſelf obliged, if they perſiſt in ſo unnatural a Dreſs notwithſtanding any Poſts they may have in the Militia) to give away their Red Coats to any of the Soldiery who ſhall think fit to ſtrip them, provided the ſaid Soldiers can make it appear, that they belong to a Regiment where there is a Defi⯑ciency in the Cloathing.

About Two Days ago I was walking in the Park, and accidentally met a Rural 'Squire, cloathed in all the Types above-mentioned, with a Carriage and Behaviour made entirely out of his own Head. He was of a Bulk and Stature larger than ordinary, had a Red Coat, flung open to ſhow a gay Calamanco Waſtcoat: His Periwig fell in a very conſiderable Buſh upon each Shoulder: His Arms naturally ſwang at an unreaſonable Diſtance from his Sides; which with the Advantage of a Cane, that he bran⯑diſhed in a great Variety of irregular Motions, made it unſafe for any one to walk within ſeve⯑ral Yards of him. In this Manner he took up the whole Mall, his Spectators moving on each Side of it, whilſt he cocked up his Hat, and marched directly for Weſtminſter. I cannot tell who this Gentleman is, but for my Comfort may ſay, with the Lover in Terence, who loſt Sight of a fine young Lady; Wherever thou art, Thou canſt not be long concealed.

By Letters from Paris of the 16th we are in⯑formed, that the French King, the Princes of the [290] Blood, and the Elector of Bavaria, had lately killed Fifty five Pheaſants.

HAving ſwept away prodigious Multitudes in my laſt Paper, and brought a great Deſtru⯑ction upon my own Species, I muſt endeavour in this to raiſe freſh Recruits, and, if poſſible, to ſupply the Places of the Unborn and the Decea⯑ſed. It is ſaid of Xerxes, That when he ſtood upon a Hill, and ſaw the whole Country round him covered with his Army, he burſt out in Tears, to think that not one of that Multitude would be alive a Hundred Years after. For my Part, when I take a Survey of this populous [291] City, I can ſcarce forbear weeping, to ſee how few of its Inhabitants are now living. It was with this Thought that I drew up my laſt Bill of Mortality, and endeavoured to ſet out in it the great Number of Perſons who have periſhed by a Diſtemper (commonly known by the Name of Idleneſs) which has long raged in the World, and deſtroys more in every great Town than the Plague has done at Dantzick. To repair the Miſchief it has done, and ſtock the World with a better Race of Mortals, I have more Hopes of bringing to Life thoſe that are young, than of reviving thoſe that are old. For which Reaſon, I ſhall here ſet down that noble Alle⯑gory which was written by an old Author cal⯑led Prodicus, but recommended and embelliſhed by Socrates. It is the Deſcription of Virtue and Pleaſure, making their Court to Hercules un⯑der the Appearances of Two beautiful Wo⯑men.

When Hercules, ſays the divine Moraliſt, was in that Part of his Youth in which it was natu⯑ral for him to conſider what Courſe of Life he ought to purſue, he one Day retired into a Deſart, where the Silence and Solitude of the Place very much favoured his Meditations. As he was muſing on his preſent Condition, and very much perplexed in himſelf on the State of Life he ſhould chuſe, he ſaw Two Women of a larger Stature than ordinary approaching to⯑wards him. One of them had a very noble Air, and graceful Deportment; her Beauty was na⯑tural and eaſy, her Perſon clean and unſpotted, her Eyes caſt towards the Ground with an agree⯑able Reſerve, her Motion and Behaviour full of Modeſty, and her Raiment as white as Snow. The other had a great deal of Health and Florid⯑neſs in her Countenance, which ſhe had helped with an artificial White and Red, and endeavour'd to appear more graceful than ordinary in her Mien, [292] by a Mixture of Affectation in all her Geſtures. She had a wonderful Confidence and Aſſurance in her Looks, and all the Variety of Colours in her Dreſs that ſhe thought were the moſt proper to ſhow her Complexion to an Advantage. She caſt her Eyes upon her ſelf, then turned them on thoſe that were preſent, to ſee how they liked her, and often looked on the Figure ſhe made in her own Shadow. Upon her nearer Approach to Hercules, ſhe ſtepped before the other Lady, (who came forward with a regular compoſed Carriage) and running up to him, accoſted him after the following Manner:

My dear Hercules, (ſays ſhe) I find you are ve⯑ry much divided in your own Thoughts upon the Way of Life that you ought to chuſe: Be my Friend, and follow me; I'll lead you into the Poſ⯑ſeſſion of Pleaſure, and out of the Reach of Pain, and remove you from all the Noiſe and Diſquie⯑tude of Buſineſs. The Affairs of either War or Peace ſhall have no Power to diſturb you. Your whole Employment ſhall be to make your Life eaſy, and to entertain every Senſe with its proper Gratification Sumptuous Tables, Beds of Roſes, Clouds of Perfumes, Conſorts of Muſick, Crowds of Beauties, are all in a Readineſs to receive you. Come along with me into this Region of De⯑lights, this World of Pleaſure, and bid Farewel for ever to Care, to Pain, to Buſineſs—

Hercules hearing the Lady talk after this Man⯑ner, deſired to know her Name; to which ſhe anſwered, My Friends, and thoſe who are well acquainted with me, call me Happineſs; but my Enemies, and thoſe who would injure my Repu⯑tation, have given me the Name of Pleaſure.

By this Time the other Lady was come up, who addreſſed her ſelf to the young Hero in a very different Manner.

[293] Hercules, (ſays ſhe) I offer my ſelf to you, be⯑cauſe I know you are deſcended from the Gods, and give Proofs of that Deſcent by your Love to Virtue, and Application to the Studies pro⯑per for your Age. This makes me hope you will gain both for your ſelf and me an immortal Re⯑putation. But before I invite you into my So⯑ciety and Friendſhip, I will be open and ſincere with you, and muſt lay down this as an eſta⯑bliſh'd Truth, That there is nothing truly va⯑luable which can be purchaſed without Pains and Labour. The Gods have ſet a Price upon every real and noble Pleaſure. If you would gain the Favour of the Derty, you muſt be at the Pains of worſhipping him; if the Friendſhip of good Men, you muſt ſtudy to oblige them; if you would be honour'd by your Country, you muſt take Care to ſerve it. In ſhort, if you would be eminent in War or Peace, you muſt become Maſter of all the Qualifications that can make you ſo. Theſe are the only Terms and Conditions upon which I can propoſe Happineſs. The God⯑deſs of Pleaſure here broke in upon her Diſcourſe: You ſee (ſaid ſhe) Hercules, by her own Confeſ⯑ſion, the Way to her Pleaſures is long and diffi⯑cult, whereas that which I propoſe is ſhort and eaſy. Alas! (ſaid the other Lady) whoſe Viſage glowed with a Paſſion, made up of Scorn and Pi⯑ty, what are the Pleaſures you propoſe? To eat before you are hungry, drink before you are a⯑thirſt, ſleep before you are tired, to gratify Ap⯑petites before they are raiſed, and raiſe ſuch Ap⯑petites as Nature never planted. You never heard the moſt delicious Muſick, which is the Praiſe of ones ſelf; nor ſaw the moſt beautiful Object, which is the Work of ones own Hands. Your Votaries paſs away their Youth in a Dream of miſtaken Pleaſures, while they are hoarding up Anguiſh, Torment, and Remorſe, for old Age.

[294] As for me, I am the Friend of Gods and of good Men, an agreeable Companion to the Arti⯑zan, an Houſhold Guardian to the Fathers of Fa⯑milies, a Patron and Protector of Servants, an Aſſociate in all true and generous Friendſhips. The Banquets of my Votaries are never coſtly, but always delicious; for none eat or drink at them who are not invited by Hunger and Thirſt. Their Slumbers are ſound, and their Wakings chearful. My young Men have the Pleaſure of hearing themſelves praiſed by thoſe who are in Years, and thoſe who are in Years of being honour'd by thoſe who are young. In a Word, my Followers are favour'd by the Gods, beloved by their Acquain⯑tance, eſteem'd by their Country, and (after the Cloſe of their Labours) honoured by Poſterity.

We know by the Life of this memorable Hero, to which of theſe Two Ladies he gave up his Heart; and I believe, every one who reads this, will do him the Juſtice to approve his Choice.

I very much admire the Speeches of theſe La⯑dies, as containing in them the chief Arguments for a Life of Virtue or a Life of Pleaſure that could enter into the Thoughts of an Heathen; but am particularly pleaſed with the different Fi⯑gures he gives the Two Goddeſſes. Our modern Authors have repreſented Pleaſure or Vice with an alluring Face, but ending in Snakes and Mon⯑ſters: Here ſhe appears in all the Charms of Beauty, tho' they are all falſe and borrowed; and by that Means, compoſes a Viſion entirely natural and pleaſing.

I have tranſlated this Allegory for the Benefit of the Youth of Great Britain; and particularly of thoſe who are ſtill in the deplorable State of Non-Exiſtence, and whom I moſt earneſtly en⯑treat to come into the World. Let my Em⯑brio's ſhow the leaſt Inclination to any ſingle Virtue, and I ſhall allow it to be a Struggling to⯑wards [295] Birth. I don't expect of them, that, like the Hero in the foregoing Story, they ſhould go about as ſoon as they are born, with a Club in their Hands, and a Lion's Skin on their Shoul⯑ders, to root out Monſters, and deſtroy Tyrants; but as the fineſt Author of all Antiquity has ſaid upon this very Occaſion, Though a Man has not the Abilities to diſtinguiſh himſelf in the moſt ſhining Parts of a great Character, he has certain⯑ly the Capacity of being juſt, faithful, modeſt, and temperate.

I Read the following Letter, which was left for me this Evening, with very much Concern for the Lady's Condition who ſent it, who expreſ⯑ſes the State of her Mind with great Frank⯑neſs, as all People ought who talk to their Phy⯑ſicians.

This Lady has ſaid very juſtly, that the Condi⯑tion of a Woman in Love is of all others the moſt miſerable. Poor Diana! How muſt ſhe be rack'd with Jealouſy when Fabio talks of Cleora? How with Indignation when Cleora makes a Property of Fabio? A Female Lover is in the Condition of a Ghoſt, that wanders about its beloved Treaſure, without Power to ſpeak till it is ſpoken to. I de⯑ſire Diana to continue in this Circumſtance; for I ſee an Eye of Comfort in her Caſe, and will take all proper Meaſures to extricate her out of this unhappy Game of Croſs Purpoſes. Since Cleora is upon the Catch with her Charms, and has no particular Regard for Fabio, I ſhall place a Couple of ſpecial Fellows in her Way, who ſhall both addreſs to her, and have each a better Eſtate than Fabio. They are both already taken with her, and are preparing for being of her Retinue the enſuing Winter.

[297] To Women of this worldly Turn, as I appre⯑hend Cleora to be, we muſt reckon backward in our Computation of Merit; and when a fair Lady thinks only of making her Spouſe a convenient Domeſtick, the Notion of Worth and Value is altered, and the Lover is the more acceptable, the leſs he is conſiderable. The Two I ſhall throw in the Way of Cleora, are, Orſon Thickett and Mr. Walter Wiſdom. Orſon is an Huntſman, whoſe Father's Death, and ſome Difficulties about Legacies, brought out of the Woods to Town laſt November. He was at that Time one of thoſe Country Salvages who deſpiſe the Softneſs they meet in Town and Court, and profeſſedly ſhow their Strength and Roughneſs in every Motion and Geſture, in Scorn of our Bowing and Cring⯑ing. He was at his firſt Appearance very remark⯑able for that Piece of good Breeding peculiar to natural Britons, to wit, Defiance, and ſhowed every one he met he was as good a Man as he. But in the Midſt of all this Fierceneſs, he would ſometimes attend the Diſcourſe of a Man of Senſe, and look at the Charms of a Beauty with his Eyes and Mouth open. He was in this Po⯑ſture when, in the Beginning of laſt December, he was ſhot by Cleora from a Side-Box—From that Moment he ſoftened into Humanity, forgot his Dogs and Horſes, and now moves and ſpeaks with Civility and Addreſs.

Wat. Wiſdom, by the Death of an elder Bro⯑ther, came to a great Eſtate, when he had pro⯑ceeded juſt far enough into his Studies to be very impertinent, and at the Y [...]ars when the Law gives him Poſſeſſion of his Fortune, and his own Conſtitution is too warm for the Ma⯑nagement of it. Orſon is learning to fence and dance, to pleaſe and fight for his Miſtreſs; and Walter preparing fine Horſes, and a gingling Chariot, to enchant her. All Perſons concerned will appear at the next Opera, where will begin [298] the Wild-Gooſe Chaſe; and I doubt, Fabio will ſee himſelf ſo over-looked for Orſon or Walter, as to turn his Eyes on the modeſt Paſſion and be⯑coming Languor in the Countenance of Diana; it being my Deſign to ſupply with the Art of Love all thoſe who preſerve the ſincere Paſſion of it.

An ingenious and worthy Gentleman, my an⯑cient Friend, fell into Diſcourſe with me this Evening upon the Force and Efficacy which the Writings of good Poets have on the Minds of their intelligent Readers, and recommended to me his Senſe of the Matter, thrown together in the following Manner, which he deſired me to communicate to the Youth of Great Britain in my Eſſays; which I chuſe to do in his own Words.

I have always been of Opinion, (ſays he) that Virtue ſinks deepeſt into the Heart of Man, when it comes recommended by the powerful Charms of Poetry. The moſt active Principle in our Mind is the Imagination: To it a good Poet makes his Court perpetually, and by this Faculty takes Care to gain it firſt. Our Paſſions and Inclinations come over next; and our Rea⯑ſon ſurrenders it ſelf with Pleaſure in the End. Thus the whole Soul is inſenſibly betrayed into Morality, by bribing the Fancy with beautiful and agreeable Images of thoſe very Things, that in the Books of the Philoſophers appear auſtere, and have at the beſt but a kind of forbidden Aſ⯑pect. In a Word, the Poets do, as it were, ſtrew the rough Paths of Virtue ſo full of Flowers, that we are not ſenſible of the Uneaſineſs of them, and imagine our ſelves in the Midſt of Pleaſures, and the moſt bewitching Allurements, at the Time we are making a Progreſs in the ſevereſt Duties of Life.

[299] All then agree, that licentious Poems do of all Writings ſooneſt corrupt the Heart: And why ſhould we not be as univerſally perſwaded, that the grave and ſerious Performances of ſuch as write in the moſt engaging Manner, by a kind of divine Impulſe, muſt be the moſt effectual Per⯑ſwaſives to Goodneſs? If therefore I were bleſſed with a Son, in order to the forming of his Man⯑ners, (which is making him truly my Son) I ſhould be continually putting into his Hand ſome ſine Poet. The graceful Sentences, and the man⯑ly Sentiments ſo frequently to be met with in every great and ſublime Writer, are, in my Judg⯑ment, the moſt ornamental and valuable Furni⯑ture that can be for a young Gentleman's Head; methinks they ſhew like ſo much rich Embroide⯑ry upon the Brain. Let me add to this, That Humanity and Tenderneſs (without which there can be no true Greatneſs in the Mind) are in⯑ſpired by the Muſes in ſuch pathetical Language, that all we find in Proſe-Authors towards the raiſing and improving of theſe Paſſions, is in Compariſon but cold, or luke-warm at the beſt. There is beſides a certain Elevation of Soul, a ſe⯑date Magnanimity, and a noble Turn of Virtue, that diſtinguiſhes the Hero from the plain, honeſt Man, to which Verſe can only raiſe us. The bold Metaphors and founding Numbers, peculiar to the Poets, rouze up all our ſleeping Facul⯑ties, and alarm the whole Powers of the Soul, much like that excellent Trumpeter mentioned by Virgil:

I fell into this Train of Thinking this Even⯑ing, upon reading a Paſſage in a Mask writ by Milton, where two Brothers are introduced ſeek⯑ing [300] after their Siſter, whom they had loſt in a dark Night and thick Wood. One of the Bro⯑thers is apprehenſive leſt the wandering Virgin ſhould be overpowered with Fears through the Darkneſs and Lonelineſs of the Time and Place. This gives the other Occaſion to make the fol⯑lowing Reflections, which, as I read them, made me forget my Age, and renewed in me the warm Deſires after Virtue, ſo natural to uncorrupted Youth.

I Have been this Evening recollecting what Paſ⯑ſages (ſince I could firſt think) have left the ſtrongeſt Impreſſions upon my Mind; and after ſtrict Enquiry, I am convinced, that the Impulſes I have received from Theatrical Repreſentations, have had a greater Effect, than otherwiſe would have been wrought in me by the little Occurren⯑ces of my private Life. My old Friends, Hart and Mohun; the one by his natural and proper Force, the other by his great Skill and Art, never failed to ſend me Home full of ſuch Idea's as affected my Behaviour, and made me inſenſibly more courteous and humane to my Friends and Ac⯑quaintance. It is not the Buſineſs of a good Play to make every Man an Hero; but it certainly gives him a livelier Senſe of Virtue and Merit than he had when he entered the Theatre.

This rational Pleaſure (as I always call it) has for many Years been very little taſted: But I am glad to find, that the true Spirit of it is reviving again amongſt us, by a due Regard to what is preſented, and by ſupporting only one Playhouſe. It has been within the Obſervation of the youngeſt amongſt us, That while there were Two Houſes, they did not outvie each o⯑ther by ſuch Repreſentations as tended to the In⯑ſtruction and Ornament of Life, but by introdu⯑cing mimical Dances, and fulſome Buffoonries. For when an excellent Tragedy was to be acted [302] in one Houſe, the Ladder-Dancer carried the whole Town to the other: And indeed ſuch an Evil as this, muſt be the natural Conſequence of Two Theatres, as certainly as that there are more who can ſee than can think. Every one is ſenſible of the Danger of the Fellow on the Lad⯑der, and can ſee his Activity in coming down ſafe; but very few are Judges of the Diſtreſs of an Hero in a Play, or of his Manner of Behaviour in thoſe Circumſtances. Thus, to pleaſe the People, Two Houſes muſt entertain them with what they can underſtand, and not with Things which are deſign⯑ed to improve their Underſtanding: And the rea⯑dieſt Way to gain good Audiences, muſt be to of⯑fer ſuch Things as are moſt reliſhed by the Crowd; that is to ſay, immodeſt Action, empty Show, or impertinent Activity. In ſhort, Two Houſes can⯑not hope to ſubſiſt, but by Means which are con⯑tradictory to the very Inſtitution of a Theatre in a well-govern'd Kingdom.

I have ever had this Senſe of the Thing, and for that Reaſon have rejoiced that my ancient coeval Friend of Drury-Lane, though he had ſold off moſt of his Moveables, ſtill kept Poſſeſſion of his Palace, and trembled for him, when he had lately like to have been taken by a Stratagem. There have for many Ages been a certain Learn⯑ed Sort of Unlearned Men in this Nation called Attornies, who have taken upon them to ſolve all Difficulties by increaſing them, and are called upon to the Aſſiſtance of all who are lazy, or weak of Underſtanding. The Inſolence of a Ruler of this Place made him reſign the Poſſeſſion of it to the Management of my above-mentioned Friend Divito. Divito was too Modeſt to know when to reſign it, till he had the Opinion and Sentence of the Law for his Removal. Both theſe in Length of Time were obtained againſt him: But as the great Archimedes defended Sy⯑racuſe with ſo powerful Engines, that if he threw [303] a Rope or Piece of Wood over the Wall, the E⯑nemy fled; ſo Divito had wounded all Adverſa⯑ries with ſo much Skill, that Men feared even to be in the Right againſt him. For this Reaſon, the lawful Ruler ſets up an Attorney to expel an Attorney, and choſe a Name dreadful to the Stage, who only ſeemed able to beat Divito out of his Intrenchments.

On the 22d Inſtant, a Night of publick Re⯑joycing, the Enemies of Divito made a Largeſs to the People of Faggots, Tubs, and other Com⯑buſtible Matter, which was erected into a Bon⯑fire before the Palace. Plentiful Cans were at the ſame Time diſtributed among the Dependen⯑ces of that Principality; and the artful Rival of Divito obſerving them prepared for Enterprize, preſented the lawful Owner of the neighbouring Edifice, and ſhowed his Deputation under him. War immediately enſued upon the peaceful Em⯑pire of Wit and the Muſes; the Goths and Van⯑dals ſacking Rome did not threaten a more bar⯑barous Devaſtation of Arts and Sciences. But when they had forced their Entrance, the expe⯑rienced Divito had detached all his Subjects, and evacuated all his Stores. The neighbouring Inhabitants report, That the Refuſe of Divito's Followers marched off the Night before diſguiſed in Magnificence; Door-Keepers came out clad like Cardinals, and Scene Drawers like Heathen Gods. Divito himſelf was wrapped up in one of his black Clouds, and left to the Enemy nothing but any empty Stage, full of Trap-Doors, known only to himſelf and his Adherents.

I have already taken great Pains to inſpire No⯑tions of Honour and Virtue into the People of this Kingdom, and uſed all gentle Methods ima⯑ginable, to bring thoſe who are dead in Idleneſs, Folly, and Pleaſure, into Life, by applying them⯑ſelves to Learning, Wiſdom, and Induſtry. But [304] ſince fair Means are ineffectual, I muſt proceed to Extremities, and ſhall give my good Friends the Company of Upholders, full Power to bury all ſuch Dead as they meet with, who are with⯑in my former Deſcriptions of deceaſed Perſons. In the mean Time the following Remonſtrance of that Corporation I take to be very juſt.

I Was laſt Week taking a ſolitary Walk in the Garden of Lincoln's-Inn, (a Favour that is in⯑dulged me by ſeveral of the Benchers who are my intimate Friends, and grown old with me in this Neighbourhood) when, according to the Nature of Men in Years, who have made but little Pro⯑greſs in the Advancement of their Fortune or their Fame, I was repining at the ſudden Riſe of many Perſons who are my Juniors, and indeed at the unequal Diſtribution of Wealth, Honour, and all other Bleſſings of Life. I was loſt in this Thought when the Night came upon me, and drew my Mind into a far more agreeable Con⯑templation. The Heaven above me appeared in all its Glories, and preſented me with ſuch an Hemiſphere of Stars, as made the moſt agreea⯑ble Proſpect imaginable to one who delights in the Study of Nature. It happened to be a freez⯑ing Night, which had purified the whole Body of Air into ſuch a bright tranſparent Aether, as made every Conſtellation viſible; and at the ſame Time gave ſuch a particular Glowing to the Stars, that I thought it the richeſt Sky I had ever ſeen. I could not behold a Scene ſo won⯑derfully adorned and lighted up, (if I may be al⯑lowed [307] that Expreſſion) without ſuitable Medita⯑tions on the Author of ſuch illuſtrious and ama⯑ſing Objects. For on theſe Occaſions, Philoſophy ſuggeſts Motives to Religion, and Religion adds Pleaſures to Philoſophy.

As ſoon as I had recovered my uſual Temper and Serenity of Soul, I retired to my Lodgings with the Satisfaction of having paſſed away a few Hours in the proper Employments of a reaſonable Creature, and promiſing my ſelf that my Slum⯑bers would be ſweet. I no ſooner fell into them, but I dreamed a Dream, or ſaw a Viſion (for I know not which to call it) that ſeemed to riſe out of my Evening-Meditation, and had ſomething in it ſo ſolemn and ſerious, that I cannot forbear communicating it; tho' I muſt confeſs, the Wild⯑neſs of Imagination (which in a Dream is al⯑ways looſe and irregular) diſcovers it ſelf too much in ſeveral Parts of it.

Methoughts I ſaw the ſame Azure Sky diverſifi⯑ed with the ſame glorious Luminaries which had entertained me a little before I fell aſleep. I was looking very attentively on that Sign in the Hea⯑vens which is called by the Name of the Ballance, when on a ſudden there appear'd in it an extraor⯑dinary Light, as if the Sun ſhould riſe at Midnight. By its increaſing in Breadth and Luſtre, I ſoon found that it approached towards the Earth; and at length could diſcern ſomething like a Shadow hovering in the Midſt of a great Glory, which in a little Time after I diſtinctly perceived to be the Fi⯑gure of a Woman. I fancied at firſt it might have been the Angel, or Intelligence that guided the Con⯑ſtellation from which it deſcended; but upon a near⯑er View, I ſaw about her all the Emblems with which the Goddeſs of Juſtice is uſually deſcrib'd. Her Countenance was unſpeakably awful and ma⯑jeſtick, but exquiſitely beautiful to thoſe whoſe Eyes were ſtrong enough to behold it; her Smiles tranſported with Rapture, her Frowns terrified [308] to Deſpair. She held in her Hand a Mirror, en⯑dowed with the ſame Qualities as that which the Painters put into the Hand of Truth.

There ſtreamed from it a Light, which diſtin⯑guiſhed it ſelf from all the Splendors that ſur⯑rounded her, more than a Flaſh of Lightning ſhines in the Midſt of Day-light. As ſhe moved it in her Hand, it brightened the Heavens, the Air, or the Earth. When ſhe had deſcended ſo low as to be ſeen and heard by Mortals, to make the Pomp of her Appearance more ſupportable, ſhe threw Darkneſs and Clouds about her, that tempered the Light into a Thouſand beautiful Shades and Colours, and multiplied that Luſtre, which was before too ſtrong and dazling, into a Variety of milder Glories.

In the mean Time the World was in an Alarm, and all the Inhabitants of it gathered together upon a ſpacious Plain; ſo that I ſeemed to have the whole Species before my Eyes. A Voice was heard from the Clouds, declaring the Intention of this Viſit, which was, to reſtore and appropri⯑ate to every one living what was his Due. The Fear and Hope, Joy and Sorrow, which appear⯑ed in that great Aſſembly after this ſolemn De⯑claration, a [...] not to be expreſſed. The firſt E⯑dict was then pronounced, That all Titles and Claims to Riches and Eſtates, or to any part of'em, ſhould be immediately veſted in the rightful Own⯑er. Upon this, the Inhabitants of the Earth held up the Inſtruments of their Tenure, whe⯑ther in Parchment, Paper, Wax, or any other Form of Conveyance; and as the Goddeſs moved the Mirror of Truth which ſhe held in her Hand, ſo that the Light which flowed from it fell up⯑on the Multitude, they examined the ſeveral In⯑ſtruments by the Beams of it. The Rays of this Mirror had a particular Quality of ſetting Fire to all Forgery and Falſhood. The Blaze of Papers, the Melting of Seals, and Crackling of Parch⯑ments, [309] made a very odd Scene. The Fire very often ran through two or three Lines only, and then ſtopped. Tho' I could not but obſerve, that the Flame chiefly broke out among the Interli⯑neations and Codicils, the Light of the Mirror, as it was turned up and down, pierced into all the dark Corners and Receſſes of the Univerſe, and by that Means detected many Writings and Records which had been hidden or buried by Time, Chance or Deſign. This occaſioned a wonderful Revolution among the People. At the ſame Time, the Spoils of Extortion, Fraud and Robbery, with all the Fruits of Bribery and Cor⯑ruption, were thrown together into a prodigious Pile, that almoſt reached to the Clouds, and was called, The Mount of Reſtitution; to which all in⯑jured Perſons were invited to receive what be⯑longed to them.

One might ſee Crowds of People in tattered Garments come up, and changed Clothes with others that were dreſſed with Lace and Embroi⯑dery. Several who were Plumbs, or very near it, became Men of moderate Fortunes; and many others, who were overgrown in Wealth and Poſ⯑ſeſſions, had no more left than what they uſual⯑ly ſpent. What moved my Concern moſt, was, to ſee a certain Street of the greateſt Credit in Europe from one End to the other become Bank⯑rupt.

The next Command was, for the whole Body of Mankind to ſeparate themſelves into their pro⯑per Families; which was no ſooner done, but an Edict was iſſued out, requiring all Children to repair to their True and Natural Fathers. This put a great Part of the Aſſembly in Motion; for as the Mirror was moved over them, it inſpired every one with ſuch a natural Inſtinct, as dire⯑cted them to their real Parents. It was a very melancholy Spectacle to ſee the Fathers of very large Families become Childleſs, and Batchelors [310] undone by a Charge of Sons and Daughters. You might ſee a Preſumptive Heir of a great Eſtate ask Bleſſing of his Coachman, and a celebrated Toaſt paying her Duty to a Valet de Chambre. Many under Vows of Celibacy appeared ſurroun⯑ded with a numerous Iſſue. This Change of Pa⯑rentage would have cauſed great Lamentation, but that the Calamity was pretty common; and that generally thoſe who loſt their Children, had the Satisfaction of ſeeing them put into the Hands of their deareſt Friends. Men were no ſooner ſettled in their Right to their Poſſeſſions and their Progeny, but there was a Third Order proclaimed, That all the Poſts of Dignity and Honour in the Univerſe ſhould be conferred on Perſons of the greateſt Merit, Abilities and Per⯑fection. The Handſome, the Strong, and the Wealthy, immediately preſſed forward; but not being able to bear the Splendor of the Mirror which played upon their Faces, they immediate⯑ly fell back among the Crowd: But as the God⯑deſs tried the Multitude by her Glaſs, as the Ea⯑gle does its young Ones by the Luſtre of the Sun, it was remarkable, that every one turned away his Face from it who had not diſtinguiſhed him⯑ſelf either by Virtue, Knowledge, or Capacity in Buſineſs, either Military or Civil. This Select Aſſembly was drawn up in the Centre of a pro⯑digious Multitude, which was diffuſed on all Sides, and ſtood obſerving them, as idle People uſe to gather about a Regiment that are exerci⯑ſing their Arms. They were drawn up in Three Bodies: In the Firſt, were the Men of Virtue; in the Second, Men of Knowledge; and in the Third, the Men of Buſineſs. It was impoſſible to look at the firſt Column without a ſecret Vene⯑ration, their Aſpects were ſo ſweetned with Hu⯑manity, raiſed with Contemplation, embolden⯑ed with Reſolution, and adorned with the moſt agreeable Airs, which are thoſe that proceed [311] from ſecret Habits of Virtue. I could not but take Notice, That there were many Faces among them which were unknown, not only to the Mul⯑titude, but even to ſeveral of their own Body.

In the Second Column, conſiſting of the Men of Knowledge, there had been great Diſputes be⯑fore they fell into the Ranks, which they did not do at laſt, without the poſitive Command of the Goddeſs who preſided over the Aſſembly. She had ſo ordered it, that Men of the greateſt Genius and ſtrongeſt Senſe were placed at the Head of the Column: Behind theſe, were ſuch as had formed their Minds very much on the Thoughts and writings of others. In the Rear of the Column, were Men who had more Wit than Senſe, or more Learning than Underſtand⯑ing. All living Authors of any Value were rang⯑ed in one of theſe Claſſes; but I muſt confeſs, I was very much ſurpriſed to ſee a great Body of Editors, Criticks, Commentators and Gramma⯑rians, meet with ſo very ill a Reception. They had formed themſelves into a Body, and with a great deal of Arrogance demanded the firſt Sta⯑tion in the Column of Knowledge; but the God⯑deſs, inſtead of complying with their Requeſt, clapped them all into Liveries, and bid them know themſelves for no other but Lacques of the Learned.

The Third Column were Men of Buſineſs, and conſiſting of Perſons in Military and Civil Capa⯑cities. The former marched out from the reſt, and placed themſelves in the Front; at which the o⯑ther ſhook their Heads at them, but did not think fit to diſpute the Poſt with them. I could not but make ſeveral Obſervations upon this laſt Co⯑lumn of People; but I have certain private Rea⯑ſons why I do not think fit to communicate them to the Publick. In order to fill up all the Poſts of Honour, Dignity, and Profit, there was a Draught made out of each Column of Men, who [312] were Maſters of all Three Qualifications in ſome Degree, and were preferred to Stations of the firſt Rank. The ſecond Draught was made out of ſuch as were poſſeſſed of any Two of the Quali⯑fications, who were diſpoſed of in Stations of a ſecond Dignity. Thoſe who were left, and were endowed only with one of them, had their ſui⯑table Poſts. When this was over, there remain⯑ed many Places of Truſt and Profit unfilled, for which there were freſh Draughts made out of the ſurrounding Multitude, who had any Appear⯑ance of theſe Excellencies, or were recommended by thoſe who poſſeſſed them in Reality.

All were ſurpriſed to ſee ſo many new Faces in the moſt eminent Dignities; and for my own Part, I was very well pleaſed to ſee that all my Friends either kept their preſent Poſts, or were advanced to higher.

Having filled my Paper with thoſe Particulars of my Viſion which concern the Male Part of Mankind, I muſt reſerve for another Occaſion the Sequel of it, which relates to the Fair Sex.

THE Progreſs of my intended Account of what happened when Juſtice viſited Mor⯑tals, is at preſent interrupted by the Obſervation and Senſe of an Injuſtice againſt which there is no Remedy, even in a Kingdom more happy in the Care taken of the Liberty and Property of [313] the Subject, than any other Nation upon Earth This Inquiry is committed by a moſt impregnable Set of Mortals, Men who are Rogues within the Law; and in the very Commiſſion of what they are guilty of, profeſſedly own, that they forbear no Injury but from the Terror of being puniſhed for it. Theſe Miſcreants are a Set of Wretches we Authors call Pirates, who print any Book, Poem, or Sermon, as ſoon as it appears in the World, in a ſmaller Volume, and ſell it (as all other Thieves do ſtolen Goods) at a cheaper Rate. I was in my Rage calling them Raſcals, Plunderers, Robbers, Highwaymen-But they acknowledge all that, and are pleaſed with thoſe, as well as any other Titles, nay, will print them themſelves to turn the Penny.

I am extremely at a Loſs how to act againſt ſuch open Enemies, who have not Shame enough to be touched with our Reproaches, and are as well defended againſt what we can ſay, as what we can do. Railing therefore we muſt turn into Complaint, which I cannot forbear making, when I conſider that all the Labours of my long Life may be diſappointed by the firſt Man that pleaſes to rob me. I had flattered my ſelf, that my Stock of Learning was worth 150 l. per Annum, which would very handſomely maintain me and my little Family, who are ſo happy or ſo wiſe as to want only Neceſſaries. Before Men had come up to this bare-faced Impudence, it was an Eſtate to have a Competency of Underſtanding.

An ingenious Drole, who is ſince dead, (and indeed it is well for him he is ſo, for he muſt have ſtarved had he lived to this Day) uſed to give me an Account of his good Husbandry in the Management of his Learning. He was a general Dealer, and had his Amuſements as well comical as ſerious. The merry Rogue ſaid, when he wanted a Dinner, he writ a Paragraph of Table-Talk, and his Bookſeller upon Sight paid the Recko⯑ning. He was a very good Judge of what would [314] pleaſe the People, and could aptly hit both the Genius of his Readers, and the Seaſon of the Year in his Writings. His Brain, which was his Eſtate, had as regular and different Produce as other Mens Land. From the Beginning of No⯑vember till the Opening of the Campaigne, he writ Pamphlets and Letters to Members of Par⯑liament, or Friends in the Country. But ſome⯑times he would relieve his ordinary Readers with a Murder, and lived comfortably a Week or Two upon ſtrange and lamentable Accidents. A little before the Armies took the Field, his Way was to open your Attention with a Prodigy; and a Mon⯑ſter well writ, was Two Guinea's the loweſt Price. This prepared his Readers for his Great and Bloody News from Flanders in June and July. Poor Tom! He is gone—But I obſerved, he always looked well after a Battle, and was apparently fatter in a fighting Year. Had this honeſt careleſs Fellow lived till now, Famine had ſtared him in the Face, and interrupted his Merriment; as it muſt be a ſolid Affliction to all thoſe whoſe Pen is their Por⯑tion. As for my Part, I do not ſpeak wholly for my own Sake in this Point; for Palmiſtry and A⯑ſtrology will bring me in greater Gains than theſe my Papers; ſo that I am only in the Condition of a Lawyer, who leaves the Bar for Chamber-Pra⯑ctice. However, I may be allowed to ſpeak in the Cauſe of Learning it ſelf, and lament, that a liberal Education is the only one which a polite Nation makes unprofitable. All Mechanick Arti⯑zans are allowed to reap the Fruit of their Inven⯑tion and Ingenuity without Invaſion; but he that has ſeparated himſelf from the reſt of Mankind, and ſtudied the Wonders of the Creation, the Government of his Paſſions, and the Revolutions of the World, and has an Ambition to commu⯑nicate the Effect of half his Life ſpent in ſuch noble Enquiries, has no Property in what he is willing to produce, but is expoſed to Robbery and [315] Want, with this melancholy and juſt Reflection, That he is the only Man who is not protected by his Country, at the ſame Time that he beſt de⯑ſerves it. According to the ordinary Rules of Computation, the greater the Adventure is, the greater ought to be the Profit of thoſe who ſuc⯑ceed in it; and by this Meaſure, none have Pre⯑tence of turning their Labours to greater Advan⯑tage than Perſons brought up to Letters. A lear⯑ned Education, paſſing through great Schools and Univerſities, is very expenſive, and conſumes a moderate Fortune, before it is gone through in its proper Forms. The Purchaſe of an handſome Commiſſion or Employment, which would give a Man a good Figure in another Kind of Life, is to be made at a much cheaper Rate. Now, if we conſider this expenſive Voyage which is under⯑taken in the Search of Knowledge, and how few there are who take in any conſiderable Merchan⯑diſe, how leſs frequent it is to be able to turn what Men have gained into Profit? How hard is it, that the very ſmall Number who are di⯑ſtinguiſhed with Abilities to know how to vend their Wares, and have the good Fortune to bring them into Port, ſhould ſuffer being plunder'd by Privateers under the very Cannon that ſhould pro⯑tect them? The moſt eminent and uſeful Author of the Age we live in, after having laid out a Princely Revenue in Works of Charity and Bene⯑ficence, as became the Greatneſs of his Mind, and the Sanctity of his Character, would have left the Perſon in the World who was the deareſt to him in a narrow Condition, had not the Sale of his immortal Writings brought her in a very conſide⯑rable Dowry; though it was impoſſible for it to be equal to their Value. Every one will know, that I here mean the Works of the late Archbiſhop of Canterbury, the Copy of which was ſold for a 500 l.

[316] I do not ſpeak with relation to any Party; but it has happened, and may often ſo happen, that Men of great Learning and Virtue cannot qualify themſelves for being employed in Buſineſs, or re⯑ceiving Preferments. In this Caſe, you cut them off from all Support, if you take from them the Benefit that may ariſe from their Writings. For my own Part, I have brought my ſelf to conſider Things in ſo unprejudiced a Manner, that I eſteem more a Man who can live by the Products of his Underſtanding, than One who does it by the Fa⯑vour of Great Men.

The Zeal of an Author has tranſported me thus far, though I think my ſelf as much concerned in the Capacity of a Reader. If this Practice goes on, we muſt never expect to ſee again a beautiful Edition of a Book in Great Britain.

We have already ſeen the Memoirs of Sir Wil⯑liam Temple publiſhed in the ſame Character and Volume with the Hiſtory of Tom Thumb, and the Works of our greateſt Poets ſhrunk into Penny Books and Garlands. For my own Part, I expect to ſee my Lucubrations printed on Brown⯑er Paper than they are at preſent; and, if the Humour continues, muſt be forced to retrench my expenſive Way of Living, and not ſmoke a⯑bove Two Pipes a Day.

A Continuation of the Viſion.

THE Male World were diſmiſſed by the God⯑deſs of Juſtice, and diſappeared, when on a ſudden the whole Plain was covered with Wo⯑men. So charming a Multitude filled my Heart with unſpeakable Pleaſure; and as the Celeſtial Light of the Mirror ſhone upon their Faces, ſe⯑veral of them ſeemed rather Perſons that deſcen⯑ded in the Train of the Goddeſs, than ſuch who were brought before her to their Tryal. The Clack of Tongues, and Confuſion of Voices, in this new Aſſembly, was ſo very great, that the Goddeſs was forced to command Silence ſeveral Times, and with ſome Severity, before ſhe could make them attentive to her Edicts. They were all ſenſible, that the moſt important Affair among Woman kind was then to be ſettled, which every one knows to be the Point of Place. This had raiſed innumerable Diſputes among them, and put the whole Sex into a Tumult. Every one produced her Claim, and pleaded her Preten⯑ſions. Birth, Beauty, Wit, or Wealth, were Words that rung in my Ears from all Parts of the Plain. Some boaſted of the Merit of their Husbands; others of their own Power in govern⯑ing them. Some pleaded their unſpotted Virginity; others their numerous Iſſue. Some valued them⯑ſelves [319] as they were the Mothers, and others, as they were the Daughters, of conſiderable Perſons. There was not a ſingle Accompliſhment unmen⯑tioned, or unpractiſed. The whole Congrega⯑tion was full of Singing, Dancing, Toſſing, O⯑gling, Squeaking, Smiling, Sighing, Fanning, Frowning, and all thoſe irreſiſtible Arts which Women put in Practice, to captivate the Hearts of reaſonable Creatures. The Goddeſs, to end this Diſpute, cauſed it to be proclaimed, That every one ſhould take Place according as ſhe was more or leſs beautiful. This Declaration gave great Satisfaction to the whole Aſſembly, which immediately bridled up, and appeared in all its Beauties. Such as believed themſelves graceful in their Motion, found an Occaſion of falling back, advancing forward, or making a falſe Step, that they might ſhow their Perſons in the moſt becoming Air. Such as had fine Necks and Boſoms, were wonderfully curious to look over the Heads of the Multitude, and ob⯑ſerve the moſt diſtant Parts of the Aſſembly. Several clapped their Hands on their Foreheads, as helping their Sight to look upon the Glories that ſurrounded the Goddeſs, but in Reality to ſhow fine Hands and Arms. The Ladies were yet better pleaſed, when they heard, that in the Deciſion of this great Controverſy, each of them ſhould be her own Judge, and take her Place according to her own Opinion of her ſelf, when ſhe conſulted her Looking-glaſs.

The Goddeſs then let down the Mirror of Truth in a Golden Chain, which appeared lar⯑ger in Proportion as it deſcended and approached nearer to the Eyes of the Beholders. It was the particular Propriety of this Looking-glaſs to ba⯑niſh all falſe Appearances, and ſhow People what they are. The whole Woman was repre⯑ſented, without Regard to the uſual external Features, which were made entirely conformable [320] to their real Characters. In ſhort, the moſt ac⯑compliſhed (taking in the whole Circle of Fe⯑male Perfections) were the moſt beautiful; an [...] the moſt defective, the moſt deformed. Th [...] Goddeſs ſo varied the Motion of the Glaſ [...] and placed it in ſo many different Lights, tha [...] each had an Opportunity of ſeeing her ſelf in it.

It is impoſſible to deſcribe the Rage, the Plea⯑ſure, or Aſtoniſhment, that appeared in each Face upon its Repreſention in the Mirror: Mul⯑titudes ſtarted at their own Form, and would have broke the Glaſs if they could have reached it. Many ſaw their Blooming Features wither as they looked upon them, and their Self Ad⯑miration turned into a Loathing and Abhorrence. The Lady who was thought ſo agreeable in her Anger, and was ſo often celebrated for a Wo⯑man of Fire and Spirit, was frighted at her own Image, and fancied ſhe ſaw a Fury in the Glaſs. The intereſted Miſtreſs beheld a Harpy, and the ſubtile Jilt a Sphinx. I was very much troubled in my own Heart, to ſee ſuch a Deſtruction of fine Faces; but at the ſame Time had the Plea⯑ſure of ſeeing ſeveral improved, which I had before looked upon as the greateſt Maſter-pieces of Nature. I obſerved, that ſome few were ſo humble as to be ſurpriſed at their own Charms; and that many a one, who had lived in the Re⯑tirement and Severity of a Veſtal, ſhined forth in all the Graces and Attractions of a Syren. I was raviſhed at the Sight of a particular Image in the Mirror, which I think the moſt beautiful Object that my Eyes ever beheld. There was ſomething more than Humane in her Counte⯑nance: Her Eyes were ſo full of Light, that they ſeemed to beautify every Thing they looked up⯑on. Her Face was enlivened with ſuch a florid Bloom, as did not ſo properly ſeem the Mark of Health, as of Immortality. Her Shape, he Sta⯑ture, [321] and her Mien, were ſuch as diſtinguiſh'd her even there where the whole Fair Sex was aſ⯑ſembled.

I was impatient to ſee the Lady repreſented by ſo divine an Image, whom I found to be the Per⯑ſon that ſtood at my Right Hand, and in the ſame Point of View with my ſelf. This was a little old Woman, who in her Prime had been about Five Foot high, though at preſent ſhrunk to about Three Quarters of that Meaſure: Her na⯑tural Aſpect was puckered up with Wrinkles, and her Head covered with grey Hairs. I had obſerved all along an innocent Chearfulneſs in her Face, which was now heighten'd into Rap⯑ture as ſhe beheld her ſelf in the Glaſs. It was an odd Circumſtance in my Dream (but I cannot forbear relating it); I conceived ſo great an In⯑clination towards her, that I had Thoughts of diſcourſing her upon the Point of Marriage, when on a ſudden ſhe was carried from me; for the Word was now given, that all who were pleaſed with their own Images, ſhould ſeparate, and place themſelves at the Head of their Sex.

This Detachment was afterwards divided into Three Bodies, conſiſting of Maids, Wives and Widows; the Wives being placed in the Middle, with the Maids on the Right, and Widows on the Left; though it was with Difficulty that theſe Two laſt Bodies were hinder'd from falling into the Centre. This Separation of thoſe who liked their real ſelves, not having leſſened the Number of the main Body ſo conſiderably as it might have been wiſhed, the Goddeſs, after ha⯑ving drawn up her Mirror, thought fit to make new Diſtinctions among thoſe who did not like the Figure which they ſaw in it. She made ſe⯑veral wholeſome Edicts, which are ſlipt out of my Mind; but there were Two which dwelt upon me, as being very extraordinary in their Kind, and executed with great Severity. Their [322] Deſign was, to make an Example of Two Ex⯑tremes in the Female World; of thoſe who are very ſevere on the Conduct of others, and of thoſe who are very regardleſs of their own. The firſt Sentence therefore the Goddeſs pronounced, was, That all Females addicted to Cenſoriouſneſs and Detra⯑ction, ſhould loſe the Uſe of Speech; a Puniſh⯑ment which would be the moſt grievous to the Offender, and (what ſhould be the End of all Puniſhments) effectual for rooting out the Crime. Upon this Edict, which was as ſoon executed as publiſhed, the Noiſe of the Aſſembly very con⯑ſiderably abated. It was a melancholy Spectacle, to ſee ſo many who had the Reputation of rigid Virtue ſtruck dumb. A Lady who ſtood by me, and ſaw my Concern, told me, She wondered how I could be concerned for ſuch a Pack of—I found, by the Shaking of her Head, ſhe was going to give me their Characters; but by her ſaying no more, I perceived ſhe had loſt the Command of her Tongue. This Calamity felt very heavy upon that Part of Women who are diſtinguiſh'd by the Name of Prudes, a Courtly Word for Female Hypocrites, who have a ſhert Way to being virtuous, by ſhowing that others are vitious. The Second Sentence was then pro⯑nounced againſt the looſe Part of the Sex, That all ſhould immediately be pregnant, who in any Part of their Lives had ran the Hazard of it. This produced a very goodly Appearance, and revealed ſo many Miſconducts, that made thoſe who were lately ſtruck dumb, repine more than ever at their Want of Utterance; though at the ſame Time (as Afflictions ſeldom come ſingle) many of the Mutes were alſo ſeized with this new Calamity. The Ladies were now in ſuch a Condition, that they would have wanted Room, had not the Plain been large enough to let them divide their Ground, and extend their Lines on all Sides. It was a ſenſible Affliction [323] to me, to ſee ſuch a Multitude of Fair Ones either dumb or big-bellied: But I was ſomething more at Eaſe, when I found that they agreed upon ſe⯑veral Regulations to cover ſuch Misfortunes. A⯑mong others, that it ſhould be an eſtabliſhed Maxim in all Nations, That a Woman's Firſt Child might come into the World within Six Months after her Acquaintance with her Huſ⯑band; and that Grief might retard the Birth of her laſt till Fourteen Months after his De⯑ceaſe.

This Viſion laſted till my uſual Hour of Wa⯑king, which I did with ſome Surpriſe, to find my ſelf alone, after having been engaged al⯑moſt a whole Night in ſo prodigious a Multitude. I could not but reflect with Wonder, at the Par⯑tiality and Extravagance of my Viſion; which according to my Thoughts, has not done Ju⯑ſtice to the Sex. If Virtue in Men is more Ve⯑nerable, it is in Women more Lovely; which Milton has very finely expreſſed in his Paradiſe Loſt, where Adam, ſpeaking of Eve, after ha⯑ving aſſerted his own Pre-eminence, as being Firſt in Creation and internal Faculties, breaks out into the following Rapture:

THere is nothing gives a Man greater Satisfa⯑ction, than the Senſe of having diſpatched a great deal of Buſineſs, eſpecially when it turns to the Publick Emolument. I have much Plea⯑ſure of this Kind upon my Spirits at preſent, oc⯑caſioned by the Fatigue of Affairs which I went through laſt Saturday. It is ſome Time ſince I ſet apart that Day for examining the Pretenſions of ſeveral who had applied to me, for Canes, Perſpective-Glaſſes, Snuff-Boxes, Orange-Flower-Waters, and the like Ornaments of Life. In or⯑der to adjuſt this Matter, I had before directed Charles Lillie of Beauford-Buildings to prepare a great Bundle of Blank Licences in the follow⯑ing Words:

The ſame Form, differing only in the Proviſo's, will ſerve for a Perſpective, Snuff-Box, or Per⯑fumed Handkerchief. I had placed my ſelf in my Elbow-Chair at the upper End of my great [325] Pa lour, having ordered Charles Lillie to take his Place upon a Joint-Stool with a Writing-Desk before him. John Morphew alſo took his Station at the Door; I having, for his good and faithful Services, appointed him my Chamber-Keeper upon Court-Days. He let me know, That there were a great Number attending without. Upon which, I ordered him to give Notice, That I did not intend to ſit upon Snuff-Boxes that Day; but that thoſe who appeared for Canes might enter. The firſt preſented me with the following Peti⯑tion, which I ordered Mr. Lillie to read.

Upon the hearing of his Caſe, I was touched with ſome Compaſſion, and the more ſo, when upon obſerving him nearer I found he was a Prig, I bid him produce his Cane in Court, which he had left at the Door. He did ſo, and I finding it to be very curiouſly clouded, with a tranſpa⯑rent [326] Amber Head, and a blue Ribbon to hang upon his Wriſt, I immediately ordered my Clerk Lillie to lay it up, and deliver out to him a plain Joint headed with Walnut; and then, in order to wean him from it by Degrees, permitted him to wear it Three Days in the Week, and to abate proportionably till he found himſelf able to go alone.

The Second who appeared, came limping into the Court: And ſetting forth in his Petition many Pretences for the Uſe of a Cane, I cauſed them to be examined one by one; but finding him in different Stories, and confronting him with ſeveral Witneſſes who had ſeen him walk upright, I ordered Mr. Lillie to take in his Cane, and rejected his Petition as frivolous.

A Third made his Entry with great Difficulty, leaning upon a ſlight Stick, and in Danger of falling every Step he took. I ſaw the Weakneſs of his Hams; and hearing that he had married a young Wife about a Fortnight before, I bid him leave his Cane, and gave him a new Pair of Crutches, with which he went off in great Vi⯑gour and Alacrity. This Gentleman was ſucceed⯑ed by another, who ſeemed very much pleaſed while his Petition was reading, in which he had repreſented, That he was extremely afflicted with the Gout, and ſet his Foot upon the Ground with the Caution and Dignity which accompany that Diſtemper. I ſuſpected him for an Impoſtor, and having ordered him to be ſearched, I com⯑mitted him into the Hands of Dr. Thomas Smith in King-ſtreet (my own Corn-Cutter) who atten⯑ded in an outward Room, and wrought ſo ſpee⯑dy a Cure upon him, that I thought fit to ſend him alſo away without his Cane.

While I was thus diſpenſing Juſtice, I heard a Noiſe in my outward Room; and enquiring what was the Occaſion of it, my Door-Keeper told me, that they had taken up one in the very [327] Fact as he was paſſing by my Door. They im⯑mediately brought in a lively freſh-coloured young Man, who made great Reſiſtance with Hand and Foot, but did not offer to make Uſe of his Cane, which hung upon his Fifth Button. Upon Examination, I found him to be an Oxford Scholar, who was juſt entered at the Temple. He at firſt diſputed the Juriſdiction of the Court; but being driven out of his little Law and Lo⯑gick, he told me very pertly, That he looked upon ſuch a prependicular Creature as Man to make a very imperfect Figure without a Cane in his Hand. It is well known (ſays he) we ought, according to the natural Situation of our Bodies, to walk upon our Hands and Feet; and that the Wiſdom of the Ancients had deſcribed Man to be an Animal of Four Legs in the Morning, Two at Noon, and Three at Night; by which they intimated, that a Cane might very properly be⯑come Part of us in ſome Period of Life. Upon which I asked him, Whether he wore it at his Breaſt to have it in Readineſs when that Period ſhould arrive? My young Lawyer immediately told me, He had a Property in it, and a Right to hang it where he pleaſed, and to make Uſe of it as he thought fit, provided that he did not break the Peace with it: And further ſaid, That he never took it off his Button, unleſs it were to lift it up at a Coachman, hold it over the Head of a Drawer, point out the Circumſtances of a Story, or for other Services of the like Na⯑ture, that are all within the Laws of the Land. I did not care for diſcouraging a young Man, who, I ſaw, would come to Good; and becauſe his Heart was ſet upon his new Purchaſe, I only or⯑dered him to wear it about his Neck, inſtead of hanging it upon his Button, and ſo diſmiſſed him. There were ſeveral appeared in Court, whoſe Pretenſions I found to be very good, and there⯑fore gave them their Licences upon paying their [328] Fees; as many others had their Licences re⯑newed, who required more Time for Recovery of their Lameneſs than I had before allowed them.

Having diſpatch'd this Set of my Petitioners, there came in a well-dreſſed Man, with a Glaſs-Tube in one Hand, and his Petition in the other. Upon his entring the Room, he threw back the Right Side of his Wig, put forward his Right Leg, and advancing the Glaſs to his Right Eye, aimed it directly at me. In the mean while, to make my Obſervations alſo, I put on my Specta⯑cles; in which Poſture we ſurvey'd each other for ſome Time. Upon the Removal of our Glaſ⯑ſes, I deſired him to read his Petition, which he did very promptly and eaſily; though at the ſame Time it ſet forth, that he could ſee no⯑thing diſtinctly, and was within very few Degrees of being utterly blind; concluding with a Prayer, That he might be permitted to ſtrengthen and extend his Sight by a Glaſs. In Anſwer to this I told him, he might ſometimes extend it to his own Deſtruction. As you are now, (ſaid I) you are out of the Reach of Beauty; the Shafts of the fineſt Eyes loſe their Force be⯑fore they can come at you; you can't diſtinguiſh a Toaſt from an Orange-Wench; you can ſee a whole Circle of Beauty without any Interruption from an impertinent Face to diſcompoſe you. In ſhort, what are Snares for others—My Petitioner would hear no more, but told me very ſeriouſly, Mr. Bickerſtaff, you quite miſtake your Man; it is the Joy, the Pleaſure, the Em⯑ployment of my Life, to frequent publick Aſſem⯑blies, and gaze upon the Fair. In a Word, I found his Uſe of a Glaſs was occaſion'd by no other In⯑firmity but his Vanity, and was not ſo much de⯑ſign'd to make him ſee, as to make him be ſeen and diſtinguiſh'd by others. I therefore refuſed him a Licence for a Perſpective, but allow'd him a Pair [329] of Spectacles, with full Permiſſion to uſe them in any publick Aſſembly as he ſhould think fit. He was followed by ſo very few of this Order of Men, that I have Reaſon to hope this Sort of Cheats are almoſt at an End.

The Orange-Flower Men appeared next with Petitions, perfumed ſo ſtrongly with Musk, that I was almoſt overcome with the Scent; and for my own Sake, was obliged forthwith to licenſe their Handkerchiefs, eſpecially when I found they had ſweetened them at Charles Lillie's, and that ſome of their Perſons would not be altoge⯑ther inoffenſive without them. John Morphew, whom I have made the General of my Dead Men, acquainted me, That the Petitioners were all of that Order, and could produce Certificates to prove it, if I requir'd it. I was ſo well plea⯑ſed with this Way of their Embalming them⯑ſelves, that I commanded the aboveſaid Morphew to give it in Orders to his whole Army, That every one who did not ſurrender himſelf up to be diſpoſed of by the Upholders, ſhould uſe the ſame Method to keep himſelf ſweet during his preſent State of Putrefaction.

I finiſhed my Seſſion with great Content of Mind, reflecting upon the Good I had done; for however ſlightly Men may regard theſe Particu⯑larities and little Follies in Dreſs and Behaviour, they lead to greater Evils. The bearing to be laughed at for ſuch Singularities, teach us in⯑ſenſibly an impertinent Fortitude, and enable us to bear publick Cenſure for Things which more ſubſtantially deſerve it. By this Means they open a Gate to Folly, and oftentimes render a Man ſo ridiculous, as diſcredit his Virtues and Capacities, and unqualify them from doing any Good in the World. Beſides, the giving into un⯑common Habits of this Nature, is a Want of that humble Deference which is due to Man⯑kind and (what is worſt of all) the certain In⯑dication [330] of ſome ſecret Flaw in the Mind of the Perſon that commits them. When I was a young Man, I remember a Gentleman of great Integrity and Worth was very remarkable for wearing a broad Belt, and an Hanger inſtead of a faſhionable Sword, though in all other Points a very well bred Man. I ſuſpected him at firſt Sight to have ſomething wrong in him, but was not able for a long while to diſcover any colla⯑teral Proofs of it. I watched him narrowly for Six and thirty Years, when at laſt, to the Sur⯑prize of every Body but my ſelf, who had long expected to ſee the Folly break out, he married his own Cook-Maid.

MY Brother Tranquillus being gone out of Town for ſome Days, my Siſter Jenny ſent me Word ſhe would come and dine with me, and therefore deſired me to have no other Com⯑pany. I took Care accordingly, and was not a little pleaſed to ſee her enter the Room with a Decent and Matron-like Behaviour, which I thought very much became her. I ſaw ſhe had a great deal to ſay to me, and eaſily diſcovered in her Eyes, and the Air of her Countenance, that ſhe had abundance of Satisfaction in her Heart, which ſhe longed to communicate. How⯑ever, I was reſolved to let her break into her Diſcourſe her own Way, and reduced her to a [331] Thouſand little Devices and Intimations to bring me to the Mention of her Husband. But find⯑ing I was reſolved not to name him, ſhe began of her own Accord; My Husband (ſaid ſhe) gives his humble Service to you: To which I only anſwered, I hope he is well; and without waiting for a Reply, fell into other Subjects. She at laſt was out of all Patience, and ſaid, (with a Smile and Manner that I thought had more Beauty and Spirit than I had ever obſerved before in her) I did not think, Brother, you had been ſo ill-natured. You have ſeen, ever ſince I came in, that I had a Mind to talk of my Husband, and you won't be ſo kind as to give me an Occaſion. I did not know (ſaid I) but it might be a diſagreeable Subject to you. You do not take me for ſo old-faſhioned a Fellow as to think of entertaining a young Lady with the Diſcourſe of her Husband. I know, nothing is more acceptable than to ſpeak of one who is to be ſo; but to ſpeak of one who is ſo! Indeed, Jenny, I am a better bred Man than you think me. She ſhowed a little Diſlike at my Raillery; and by her bridling up, I perceived ſhe expected to be treated hereafter not as Jenny Diſtaff, but Mrs. Tranquillus. I was very well pleaſed with this Change in her Humour; and upon talking with her on ſeveral Subjects, I could not but fancy, that I ſaw a great deal of her Husband's Way and Manner, in her Remarks, her Phraſes, the Tone of her Voice, and the very Air of her Countenance. This gave me an unſpeakable Sa⯑tisfaction, not only becauſe I had found her an Husband, from whom ſhe could learn many Things that were laudable, but alſo becauſe I looked upon her Imitation of him as an infalli⯑ble Sign that ſhe intirely loved him. This is an Obſervation that I never knew fail, though I do not remember that any other has made it. The natural Shyneſs of her Sex hindered her from [332] telling me the Greatneſs of her own Paſſion; but I eaſily collected it, from the Repreſentation ſhe gave me of his. I have every Thing, ſays ſhe, in Tranquillus that I can wiſh for; and enjoy in him (what indeed you have told me were to be met with in a good Husband) the Fondneſs of a Lover, the Tenderneſs of a Parent, and the In⯑timacy of a Friend. It tranſported me to ſee her Eyes ſwimming in Tears of Affection when ſhe ſpoke: And is there not, Dear Siſter, ſaid I, more Pleaſure in the Poſſeſſion of ſuch a Man, than in all the little Impertinencies of Balls, Aſ⯑ſemblies, and Equipage, which it coſt me ſo much Pains to make you contemn? She anſwer'd, ſmiling, Tranquillus has made me a ſincere Con⯑vert in a few Weeks, though I am afraid you could not have done it in your whole Life. To tell you truly, I have only one Fear hanging upon me, which is apt to give me Trouble in the Midſt of all my Satisfactions: I am afraid, you muſt know, that I ſhall not always make the ſame amiable Appearance in his Eye that I do at preſent. You know, Brother Bickerſtaff, that you have the Reputation of a Conjurer; and if you have any one Secret in your Art to make your Siſter always beautiful, I ſhould be happier than if I were Miſtreſs of all the Worlds you have ſhown me in a Starry Night—Jenny, (ſaid I) without having Recourſe to Magick, I ſhall give you one plain Rule, that will not fail of making you always amiable to a Man who has ſo great a Paſſion for you, and is of ſo equal and reaſonable a Temper as Tranquillus. Endeavour to pleaſe, and you muſt pleaſe; be always in the ſame Diſpoſition as you are when you ask for this Secret, and, you may take my Word, you will never want it. An inviolable Fidelity, good Humour, and Complacency of Temper out-live all the Charms of a fine Face, and make the De⯑cays of it inviſible.

[333] We diſcourſed very long upon this Head, which was equally agreeable to us both; for I muſt confeſs, (as I tenderly love her) I take as much Pleaſure in giving her Inſtructions for her Welfare as ſhe her ſelf does in receiving them. I proceeded therefore to inculcate theſe Senti⯑ments, by relating a very particular Paſſage that happened within my own Knowledge.

There were ſeveral of us making merry at a Friend's Houſe in a Country Village, when the Sexton of the Pariſh-Church entered the Room in a Sort of Surprize, and told us, That as he was digging a Grave in the Chancel, a lit⯑tle Blow of his Pickax open'd a decayed Cof⯑fin, in which there were ſeveral written Papers. Our Curioſity was immediately raiſed, ſo that we went to the Place where the Sexton had been at work, and found a great Concourſe of People about the Grave. Among the reſt, there was an old Woman, who told us, the Perſon buried there was a Lady, whoſe Name I do not think fit to mention, though there is nothing in the Story but what tends very much to her Honour. This Lady lived ſeveral Years an Exemplary Pattern of Conjugal Love, and dying ſoon after her Huſ⯑band, who every Way anſwer'd her Character in Virtue and Affection, made it her Death-Bed Re⯑queſt, That all the Letters which ſhe had re⯑ceived from him, both before and after her Mar⯑riage, ſhould be buried in the Coffin with her. Theſe I found upon Examination were the Papers before us. Several of them had ſuffered ſo much by Time, that I could only pick out a few Words; as, My Soul! Lillies! Roſes! Deareſt Angel! and the like. One of them (which was legible through⯑out) ran thus:

It filled the whole Company with a deep Me⯑lancholy, to compare the Deſcription of the Let⯑ter with the Perſon that occaſioned it, who was now reduced to a few crumbling Bones, and a little mouldring Heap of Earth. With much ado I deciphered another Letter, which begun with, My dear, dear Wife. This gave me a Curi⯑oſity to ſee how the Style of one written in Mar⯑riage differed from one written in Courtſhip. To my Surprize, I found the Fondneſs rather aug⯑mented than leſſened, though the Panegyrick turned upon a different Accompliſhment. The Words were as follow:

It happened that the Daughter of theſe Two excellent Perſons was by when I was reading [335] this Letter. At the Sight of the Coffin, in which was the Body of her Mother, near that of her Father, ſhe melted into a Flood of Tears. As I had heard a great Character of her Virtue, and obſerved in her this Inſtance of Filial Piety, I could not reſiſt my natural Inclination of giving Advice to young People, and therefore addreſſed my ſelf to her: Young Lady (ſaid I), you ſee how ſhort is the Poſſeſſion of that Beauty in which Nature has been ſo liberal to you. You find, the melancholy Sight before you is a Con⯑tradiction to the Firſt Letter that you heard on that Subject; whereas you may obſerve, the Second Letter, which celebrates your Mother's Conſtancy, is it ſelf, being found in this Place, an Argument of it. But, Madam, I ought to caution you, not to think the Bodies that lie be⯑fore you, your Father and your Mother. Know their Conſtancy is rewarded by a nobler Union than by this mingling of their Aſhes, in a State where there is no Danger or Poſſibility of a Se⯑cond Separation.

AS ſoon as my Midnight Studies are finiſhed, I take but a very ſhort Repoſe, and am again up at an Exerciſe of another Kind; that is to ſay, my Fencing. Thus my Life paſſes away in a reſtleſs Purſuit of Fame, and a Preparation to defend my ſelf againſt ſuch as attack it. This Anxiety in the Point of Reputation is the pecu⯑liar Diſtreſs of fine Spirits, and makes them lia⯑ble to a Thouſand Inquietudes, from which Men [336] of groſſer Underſtandings are exempt; ſo that Nothing is more common, than to ſee one Part of Mankind live at perfect Eaſe under ſuch Cir⯑cumſtances as would make another Part of them entirely miſerable.

This may ſerve for a Preface to the Hiſtory of poor Will. Roſin, the Fidler of Wapping, who is a Man as much made for Happineſs, and a quiet Life, as any one breathing; but has been lately intangled in ſo many intricate and unreaſonable Diſtreſſes, as would have made him (had he been a Man of too nice Honour) the moſt wretch⯑ed of all Mortals. I came to the Knowledge of his Affairs by meer Accident. Several of the narrow End of our Lane having made an Ap⯑pointment to viſit ſome Friends beyond St. Ka⯑therine's, where there was to be a merry Meet⯑ing, they would needs take with them the Old Gentleman, as they are pleaſed to call me. I who value my Company by their good Will, which naturally has the ſame Effect as good Breeding, was not too ſtately, or too wiſe, to accept of the Invitation. Our Deſign was to be Spectators of a Sea Ball; to which I readily conſented, pro⯑vided I might be incognito, being naturally plea⯑ſed with the Survey of humane Life in all its Degrees and Circumſtances. In order to this Merriment, Will. Roſin (who is the Corelli of the Wapping-Side, as Tom Scrape is the Bononcini of Redriffe) was immediately ſent for; but to our utter Diſappointment, poor Will. was under an Arreſt, and deſired the Aſſiſtance of all his kind Maſters and Miſtreſſes, or he muſt go to Gaol. The whole Company received his Meſſage with great Humanity, and very generouſly threw in their Half-pence apiece in a great Diſh, which purchaſed his Redemption out of the Hands of the Bailiffs. During the Negotiation for his En⯑largement, I had an Opportunity of acquainting my ſelf with his Hiſtory.

[337] Mr. William Roſin, of the Pariſh of St. Kathe⯑rine, is ſomewhat ſtricken in Years, and married to a young Woman, who has very much the Aſ⯑cendant over him: This degenerate Age be⯑ing ſo perverted in all Things, that even in the State of Matrimony, the Young pretend to go⯑vern their Elders. The Muſician is extremely fond of her; but is often obliged to lay by his Fiddle to hear louder Notes of hers, when ſhe is pleaſed to be angry with him: For you are to know, Will. is not of Conſequence enough to enjoy her Converſation but when ſhe chides him, or makes uſe of him to carry on her Amours. For ſhe is a Woman of Stratagem; and even in that Part of the World where one would expect but very little Gallantry, by the Force of natural Genius, ſhe can be ſullen, ſick, out of Humour, Splenatick, want new Clothes, and more Money, as well as if ſhe had been bred in Cheapſide or Cornhill. She was lately under a ſecret Diſcontent upon Account of a Lover ſhe was like to loſe by his Marriage: For her Gal⯑lant, Mr. Ezekiel Boniface, had been twice asked in Church, in order to be joined in Matrimony with Mrs. Winifred Dimple, Spinſter, of the ſame Pariſh. Hereupon Mrs. Roſin was far gone in that Diſtemper which well-governed Husbands know by the Deſcription of, I am I know not how; and Will. ſoon underſtood, that it was his Part to enquire into the Occaſion of her Melan⯑choly, or ſuffer as the Cauſe of it himſelf. After much Importunity, all he could get out of her, was, That ſhe was the moſt unhappy and the moſt wicked of all Women, and had no Friend in the World to tell her Grief to. Upon this, Will. doubled his Importunities; but ſhe ſaid. That ſhe ſhould break her poor Heart, if he did not take a ſolemn Oath upon a Book, that he would not be angry; and that he would expoſe the Perſon who had wronged her to all the [338] World, for the Eaſe of her Mind, which was no way elſe to be quieted. The Fidler was ſo mel⯑ted, that he immediately kiſſed her, and after⯑wards the Book. When his Oath was taken, ſhe began to lament her ſelf, and revealed to him, that (miſerable Woman as ſhe was) ſhe had been falſe to his Bed. Will. was glad to hear it was no worſe; but before he could reply, Nay (ſaid ſhe) I will make you all the Atonement I can, and take Shame upon me by proclaiming it to all the World, which is the only Thing that can re⯑move my preſent Terrors of Mind. This was in⯑deed too true; for her Deſign was to prevent Mr. Boniface's Marriage, which was all ſhe appre⯑hended. Will. was throughly angry, and began to curſe and ſwear, the ordinary Expreſſions of Paſſion in Perſons of his Condition. Upon which his Wife—Ah William! How well you mind the Oath you have taken, and the Diſtreſs of your poor Wife, who can keep nothing from you; I hope you won't be ſuch a perjur'd Wretch as to forſwear your ſelf. The Fiddler anſwer'd, That his Oath obliged him only not to be angry at what was paſſed; but I find you intend to make me laughed at all over Wapping. No, no, (replied Mrs. Roſin) I ſee well enough what you would be at, you poor-ſpirited Cuckold—You are afraid to expoſe Boniface, who has abuſed your poor Wife, and would fain perſwade me ſtill to ſuffer the Stings of Conſcience; but I aſſure you Sirrah, I won't go to the Devil for you. Poor Will. was not made for Contention, and beſeeching her to be pacified, deſired ſhe would conſult the Good of her Soul her own Way, for he would not ſay her nay in any Thing.

Mrs. Roſin was ſo very loud and publick in her Invectives againſt Boniface, that the Parents of his Miſtreſs forbad the Banes, and his Match was prevented, which was the whole Deſign of this deep [...]atagem. The Father of Boniface brought [339] his Action of Defamation, arreſted the Fiddler, and recovered Dammages. This was the Diſtreſs from which he was relieved by the Company; and the good Husband's Air, Hiſtory, and Jollity, upon his Enlargement, gave Occaſion to very much Mirth; eſpecially when Will. finding he had Friends to ſtand by him, proclaimed himſelf a Cuckold by Way of Inſult over the Family of the Bonifaces. Here is a Man of Tranquility without reading Seneca! What Work had ſuch an Incident made among Perſons of Diſtinction? The Brothers and Kindred of each Side muſt have been drawn out, and Hereditary Hatred entailed on the Families as long as their very Names re⯑mained in the World. Who would believe that Herod, Othello, and Will. Roſin, were of the ſame Species?

There are quite different Sentiments which reign in the Parlour and the Kitchin; and it is by the Point of Honour, when juſtly regulated, and inviolably obſerved, that ſome Men are ſuperior to others, as much as Mankind in general are to Brutes. This puts me in Mind of a Paſſage in the admirable Poem called the Diſpenſary, where the Nature of true Honour is artfully deſcribed in an Ironical Diſpraiſe of it.

I Was this Evening ſitting at the Side-Table, and reading one of my own Papers with great Satisfaction, not knowing that I was obſerved by any in the Room. I had not long enjoyed this ſecret Pleaſure of an Author, when a Gentleman, ſome of whoſe Works I have been highly enter⯑tained [341] with, accoſted me after the following Manner: Mr. Bickerſtaff, you know I have for ſome Years devoted my ſelf wholly to the Mu⯑ſes, and perhaps you will be ſurprized when I tell you I am reſolved to take up and apply my ſelf to Buſineſs: I ſhall therefore beg you will ſtand my Friend, and recommend a Cuſtomer to me for ſeveral Goods that I have now upon my Hands, I deſir'd him to let me have a Particu⯑lar, and I would do my utmoſt to ſerve him. I have firſt of all (ſays he) the Progreſs of an Amour digeſted into Sonnets, beginning with a Poem to the unknown Fair, and ending with an Epithalamium. I have celebrated in it, her Cruelty, her Pity, her Face, her Shape, her Wit, her good Humour, her Dancing, her Sing⯑ing—I could not forbear interrupting him; This is a moſt accompliſhed Lady, ſaid I; but has ſhe really, with all theſe Perfections, a fine Voice? Pugh, ſays he, you do not believe there is ſuch a Perſon in Nature. This was only my Employ⯑ment in Solitude laſt Summer, when I had nei⯑ther Friends or Books to divert me. I was go⯑ing, ſays I, to ask her Name, but I find it is only an imaginary Miſtreſs. That's true, replied my Friend, but her Name is Flavia. I have, continued he, in the Second Place, a Collection of Lampoons, calculated either for the Bath, Tunbridge, or any Place where they drink Wa⯑ters, with blank Spaces for the Names of ſuch Perſon or Perſons as may be inſerted in them on Occaſion. Thus much I have told only of what I have by me proceeding from Love and Malice. I have alſo at this Time the Sketch of an He⯑roick Poem upon the next Peace: Several indeed of the Verſes are either too long or too ſhort, it being a rough Draught of my Thoughts upon that Subject. I thereupon told him, That as it was, it might probably paſs for a very good Pin⯑darick, and I believed I knew one who would be [342] willing to deal with him for it upon that Foot. I muſt tell you alſo, I have made a Dedication to it, which is about four Sides cloſe written, that may ſerve any one that is tall, and underſtands Latin. I have further, about Fifty Similies, that were ne⯑ver yet applied, beſides Three and twenty De⯑ſcriptions of the Sun-riſing, that might be of great Uſe to an Epick Poet. Theſe are my more bulky Commodities: Beſides which, I have ſeveral ſmall Wares that I would part with at eaſy Rates; as, Obſervations upon Life, and Moral Sentences, re⯑duced into ſeveral Couplets, very proper to cloſe up Acts of Plays, and may be eaſily introduced by two or three Lines of Proſe, either in Tragedy or Comedy. If I could find a Purchaſer curious in Latin Poetry, I could accommodate him with Two Dozen of Epigrams, which, by Reaſon of a few falſe Quantities, ſhould come for little or no⯑thing.

I heard the Gentleman with much Attention, and asked him, Whether he would break Bulk, and ſell his Goods by Retail, or deſigned they ſhould all go in a Lump? He told me, That he ſhould be very loth to part them, unleſs it was to oblige a Man of Quality, or any Perſon for whom I had a particular Friendſhip. My Reaſon for asking (ſaid I) is, only becauſe I know a young Gentleman who intends to appear next Spring in a new gingling Chariot, with the Figures of the Nine Muſes on each Side of it; and I believe, would be glad to come into the World in Verſe. We could not go on in our Treaty, by reaſon of Two or Three Criticks that joined us. They had been talking, it ſeems, of the Two Letters which were found in the Coffin, and mentioned in one of my late Lucubrations, and came with a Requeſt to me, that I would communicate any others of them that were legible. One of the Gentlemen was pleaſed to ſay, That it was a very proper In⯑ſtance of a Widow's Conſtancy; and ſaid, he [343] wiſhed I had ſubjoined, as a Foil to it, the follow⯑ing Paſſage in Hamlet. The young Prince was not yet acquainted with all the Guilt of his Mo⯑ther, but turns his Thoughts on her ſudden For⯑getfulneſs of his Father, and the Indecency of her haſty Marriage.

The ſeveral Emotions of Mind and Breaks of Paſſion, in this Speech, are admirable. He has touched every Circumſtance that aggravated the Fact, and ſeemed capable of hurrying the Thoughts of a Son into Diftraction. His Father's Tender⯑neſs for his Mother, expreſſed in ſo delicate a Par⯑ticular; [344] his Mother's Fondneſs for his Father no leſs exquiſitely deſcribed; the great and amiable Figure of his dead Parent drawn by a true Filial Piety; his Diſdain of ſo unworthy a Succeſſor to his Bed: But above all, the Shortneſs of the Time between his Father's Death and his Mother's Second Marriage, brought together with ſo much Diſorder, make up as noble a Part as any in that celebrated Tragedy. The Circumſtances of Time I never could enough admire. The Widowhood had laſted Two Months. This is his Firſt Re⯑flection: But as his Indignation riſes, he ſinks to ſcarce Two Months: Afterwards into a Month; and at laſt, into a Little Month: But all this ſo naturally, that the Reader accompanies him in the Violence of his Paſſion, and finds the Time leſſen inſenſibly, according to the different Work⯑ings of his Diſdain. I have not mentioned the Inceſt of her Marriage, which is ſo obvious a Pro⯑vocation; but can't forbear taking Notice, that when his Fury is at its Height, he cries, Frailty, thy Name is Woman! As railing at the Sex in ge⯑neral, rather than giving himſelf Leave to think his Mother worſe than others.—Deſiderantur multa.

ABout Four this Afternoon, which is the Hour I uſually put my ſelf in a Readineſs to re⯑ceive Company, there enter'd a Gentleman who I believed at firſt came upon ſome ordinary Que⯑ſtion; but as he approached nearer to me, I ſaw in his Countenance a deep Sorrow, mixed with a certain ingenuous Complacency that gave me a ſudden Good-will towards him. He ſtar'd, and betrayed an Abſence of Thought as he was going to communicate his Buſineſs to me. But at laſt, recovering himſelf, he ſaid, with an Air of great Reſpect, Sir, It would be an Injury to your Knowledge in the Occult Sciences, to tell you what is my Diſtreſs; I dare ſay, you read it in my Countenance: I therefore beg your Advice [346] to the moſt unhappy of all Men. Much Experi⯑ence has made me particularly ſagacious in the Diſ⯑covery of Diſtempers, and I ſoon ſaw that his was Love. I then turned to my Common-place Book, and found his Caſe under the Word Coquette; and reading over the Catalogue which I have collected out of this great City of all under that Character, I ſaw at the Name of Cynthia his fit came upon him. I repeated the Name thrice after a muſing Manner, and immediately perceived his Pulſe quicken two Thirds; when his Eyes, inſtead of the Wildneſs with which they appeared at his En⯑trance, looked with all the Gentleneſs imaginable upon me, not without Tears. Oh, Sir! (ſaid he) you know not the unworthy Uſage I have met with from the Woman my Soul doats on. I could gaze at her to the End of my Being; yet when I have done ſo, for ſome Time paſt I have found her Eyes fix'd on another. She is now Two and twen⯑ty in the full Tyranny of her Charms, which ſhe once acknowledg'd ſhe rejoiced in, only as they made her Choice of me, out of a Crowd of Ad⯑mirers, the more obliging. But in the Midſt of this Happineſs, ſo it is Mr. Bickerſtaff, that young Quickſett, who is juſt come to Town, without any other Recommendation than that of being tolera⯑bly handſome, and exceſſively rich, has won her Heart in ſo ſhameleſs a Manner, that ſhe dies for him. In a Word, I would conſult you, how to cure my ſelf of this Paſſion for an ungrateful Wo⯑man, who triumphs in her Falſhood, and can make no Man happy, becauſe her own Satisfaction con⯑ſiſts chiefly in being capable of giving Diſtreſs. I know Quickſett is at preſent conſiderable with her for no other Reaſon but that he can be without her, and feel no Pain in the Loſs. Let me therefore de⯑ſire you, Sir, to fortify my Reaſon againſt the Le⯑vity of an Inconſtant, who ought only to be trea⯑ted with Neglect.

[347] All this Time I was looking over my Re⯑ceipts, and asked him, if he had any good W [...] ⯑ter Boots—Boots, Sir! ſaid my Patient—I [...] on; You may eaſily reach Harwich in a Day, ſo as to be there when the Packet goes off. Sir, (ſaid the Lover) I find you deſign me for Travel⯑ling; but alas! I have no Language, it will be the ſame Thing to me as Solitude, to be in a ſtrange Country. I have (continued he, ſighing) been many Years in Love with this Creature, and have almoſt loſt even my Engliſh, at leaſt to ſpeak ſuch as any Body elſe does. I asked a Te⯑nant of ours, who came up to Town the other Day with Rent, Whether the Flowry Meads near my Father's Houſe in the Country had any Shep⯑herd in it? I have called a Cave a Grotto theſe Three Years, and muſt keep ordinary Company, and frequent buſie People for ſome Time, before I can recover my common Words. I ſmiled at his Raillery upon himſelf, though I well ſaw it came from an heavy Heart. You are (ſaid I) ac⯑quainted to be ſure with ſome of the General Of⯑ficers; Suppoſe you made a Campaign? If I did, (ſaid he) I ſhould venture more than any M [...]n there, for I ſhould be in Danger of ſtarving; my Father is ſuch an untoward old Gentleman, that he would tell me he ſound it hard enough to pay his Taxes towards the War, without making it more expenſive by an Allowance to me. With all this, he is as fond as he is ragged, and I am his only Son.

I looked upon the young Gentleman with much Tenderneſs, and not like a Phyſician, but a Friend; for I talked to him ſo largely, that if I had parcelled my Diſcourſe into diſtinct Pre⯑ſcriptions, I am confident I give him Two Hun⯑dred Pounds worth of Advice. He heard me with great Attention, bowing, ſmilling, and ſhow⯑ing all other Inſtances of that natural good Breed⯑ing which ingenuous Tempers pay to thoſe [348] who are elder and wiſer than themſelves. I en⯑tertained him to the following Purpoſe. I am ſorry, Sir, that your Paſſion is of ſo long a Date, for Evils are much more curable in their Begin⯑nings; but at the ſame Time muſt allow, that you are not to be blamed, ſince your Youth and Merit has been abuſed by one of the moſt char⯑ming, but the moſt unworthy Sort of Women, the Coquets. A Coquet is a chaſt Jilt, and dif⯑fers only from a Common One, as a Soldier, who is perfect in Exerciſe, does from one that is actu⯑ally in Service. This Grief, like all other, is to be cured only by Time; and although you are convinced this Moment, as much as you will be Ten Years hence, that ſhe ought to be ſcorned and neglected, you ſee you muſt not expect your Remedy from the Force of Reaſon. The Cure then is only in Time, and the haſtening of the Cure only in the Manner of employing that Time. You have anſwered me as to Travel and a Campaign, ſo that we have only Great Bri⯑tain to avoid her in. Be then your ſelf, and liſten to the following Rules, which only can be of Uſe to you in this unaccountable Diſtemper, wherein the Patient is often averſe even to his Recovery. It has been of Benefit to ſome to apply themſelves to Buſineſs; but as that may not lie in your Way, go down to your Eſtate, mind your Fox hounds, and venture the Life you are weary of over every Hedge and Ditch in the Country. Theſe are wholeſome Remedies; but if you can have Reſolution enough, rather ſtay in Town, and recover your ſelf even in the Town where ſhe inhabits. Take particular Care to avoid all Places where you may poſſibly meet her, and ſhun the Sight of every Thing which may bring her to your Remembrance; there is an Infection in all that relates to her: You'll find, her Houſe, her Chariot, her Domeſticks, and her very Lap-Dog, are ſo many Inſtruments [349] of Torment. Tell me ſeriouſly, Do you think you could bear the Sight of her Fan? He ſhook his Head at the Queſtion, and ſaid, Ah! Mr. Bickerſtaff, you muſt have been a Patient, or you could not have been ſo good a Phyſician. To tell you truly, ſaid I, about the Thirtieth Year of my Age, I received a Wound that has ſtill left a Scar in my Mind, never to be quite worn out by Time or Philoſophy.

The Means which I found the moſt effectual for my Cure, were Reflections upon the ill Uſage I had received from the Woman I loved, and the Pleaſure I ſaw her take in my Sufferings.

I conſidered the Diſtreſs ſhe brought upon me, the greateſt that could befal an humane Crea⯑ture, at the ſame Time that ſhe did not inflict this upon one who was her Enemy, one that had done her an Injury, one that had wiſhed her ill; but on the Man who loved her more than any elſe loved her, and more than it was poſſible for him to love any other Perſon.

In the next Place, I took Pains to conſider her in all her Imperfections; and that I might be ſure to hear of them conſtantly, kept Company with thoſe her Female Friends who were her deareſt and moſt intimate Acquaintance.

Among her higheſt Imperfections, I ſtill dwelt upon her Baſeneſs of Mind and Ingratitude, that made her triumph in the Pain and Anguiſh of the Man who loved her, and of one who in thoſe Days (without Vanity be it ſpoken) was thought to deſerve her Love.

To ſhorten my Story, ſhe was married to ano⯑ther, which would have diſtracted me had he proved a good Husband; but to my great Plea⯑ſure, he uſed her at firſt with Coldneſs, and afterwards with Contempt. I hear he ſtill treats her very ill; and am informed, that ſhe often ſays to her Woman, This is a juſt Revenge for my Falſhood to my Firſt Love: What a Wretch [350] am I, that might have been married to the fa⯑mous Mr. Bickerſtaff.

My Patient looked upon me with a kind of me⯑lancholy Pleaſure, and told me, He did not think it was poſſible for a Man to live to the Age I now am of, who in his Thirtieth Year had been tor⯑tured with that Paſſion in its Violence: For my Part, (ſaid he) I can neither eat, drink, nor ſleep in it; nor keep Company with any Body, but Two or Three Friends who are in the ſame Con⯑dition.

There (anſwer'd I) you are to blame; for as you ought to avoid nothing more than keeping Company with your ſelf, ſo you ought to be par⯑ticularly cautious of keeping Company with Men like your ſelf. As long as you do this, you do but indulge your Diſtemper.

I muſt not diſmiſs you without further Inſtru⯑ctions. If poſſible, transfer your Paſſion from the Woman you are now in Love with, to another; or if you cannot do that, change the Paſſion it ſelf into ſome other Paſſion; that is, to ſpeak more plainly, find out ſome other agreeable Wo⯑man: Or if you can't do this, grow covetous, ambitious, litigious; turn your Love of Woman into that of Profit, Preferment, Reputation; and for a Time, give up your ſelf intirely to the Pur⯑ſuit.

This is a Method we ſometimes take in Phyſick, when we turn a deſperate Diſeaſe into one we can more eaſily cure.

He made little Anſwer to all this, but crying out, Ah, Sir! For his Paſſion reduced his Diſ⯑courſe to Interjections.

There is one Thing added, which is preſent Death to a Man in your Condition, and therefore to be avoided with the greateſt Care and Cau⯑tion: That is, in a Word; to think of your Mi⯑ſtreſs and Rival together, whether walking, diſ⯑courſing, dallying—The Devil! He cried out, [351] Who can bear it? To compoſe him, for I pitied him very much, the Time will come, ſaid I, when you ſhall not only bear it, but laugh at it. As a Preparation to it, ride every Morning an Hour at leaſt with the Wind full in your Face. Upon your Return, recollect the ſeveral Precepts which I have now given you, and drink upon them a Bot⯑tle of Spaw-Water. Repeat this every Day for a Month ſucceſſively, and let me ſee you at the End of it. He was taking his Leave, with many Thanks, and ſome Appearance of Conſolation in his Countenance, when I called him back to ac⯑quaint him, That I had private Information of a Deſign of the Coquets to buy up all the true Spaw-Water in Town: Upon which he took his Leave in haſte, with a Reſolution to get all Things ready for entring upon his Regimen the next Morning.

IT is not to be imagined, how great an Effect well diſpoſed Lights, with proper Forms and Orders in Aſſemblies, have upon ſome Tempers. I am ſure I feel it in ſo extraordinary a Manner, that I cannot in a Day or Two get out of my Imagination any very beautiful or diſagreeable Impreſſion which I receive on ſuch Occaſions. For this Reaſon I frequently look in at the Play⯑houſe, [352] in order to enlarge my Thoughts, and warm my Mind with ſome new Idea's, that may be ſerviceable to me in my Lucubrations. In this Diſpoſition I entered the Theatre the other Day, and placed my ſelf in a Corner of it, very convenient for ſeeing, without being my ſelf ob⯑ſerved. I found the Audience huſhed in a very deep Attention, and did not queſtion but ſome noble Tragedy was juſt then in its Criſis, or that an Incident was to be unravelled which would determine the Fate of an Hero. While I was in this Suſpence, expecting every Moment to ſee my old Friend Mr. Betterton appear in all the Majeſty of Diſtreſs, to my unſpeakable Amaze⯑ment, there came up a Monſter with a Face be⯑tween his Feet; and as I was looking on, he raiſed himſelf on one Leg in ſuch a perpendicu⯑lar Poſture, that the other grew in a Direct Line above his Head. It afterwards twiſted it ſelf into the Motions and Wreathings of ſeveral diffe⯑rent Animals, and after great Variety of Shapes and Transformations, went off the Stage in the Figure of an humane Creature. The Admira⯑tion, the Applauſe, the Satisfaction, of the Au⯑dience, during this ſtrange Entertainment, is not to be expreſſed. I was very much out of Coun⯑tenance for my dear Countrymen, and looked about with ſome Apprehenſion for Fear any Fo⯑reigner ſhould be preſent. Is it poſſible (thought I) that humane Nature can rejoice in its Diſgrace, and take Pleaſure in ſeeing its own Figure turn⯑ed to Ridicule, and diſtorted into Forms that raiſe Horror and Averſion? There is ſomething diſingenuous and immoral in the being able to bear ſuch a Sight. Men of elegant and noble Minds, are ſhocked at ſeeing the Characters of Perſons who deſerve Eſteem for their Virtue, Knowledge, or Services to their Country, placed in wrong Lights, and by Miſrepreſentation made the Subject of Buffoonry. Such a nice Abhor⯑rence [353] is not indeed to be found among the Vul⯑gar; but methinks it is wonderful, that theſe who have nothing but the outward Figure to diſtin⯑guiſh them as Men, ſhould delight in ſeeing it a⯑buſed, vilified, and diſgraced.

I muſt confeſs, there is nothing that more pleaſes me, in all that I read in Books, or ſee among Mankind, than ſuch Paſſages as repreſent humane Nature in its proper Dignity. As Man is a Creature made up of different Extremes, he has ſomething in him very great and very mean: A skilful Artiſt may draw an excellent Picture of him in either of theſe Views. The fineſt Au⯑thors of Antiquity have taken him on the more advantagious Side. They cultivate the natural Grandeur of the Soul, raiſe in her a generous Ambition, feed her with Hopes of Immortality and Perfection, and do all they can to widen the Partition between the Virtuous and the Vi⯑cious, by making the Difference betwixt them as great as between Gods and Brutes. In ſhort, it is impoſſible to read a Page in Plato, Tully, and a Thouſand other ancient Moraliſts, with⯑out being a greater and a better Man for it. On the contrary, I could never read any of our mo⯑diſh French Authors, or thoſe of our own Coun⯑try who are the Imitators and Admirers of that trifling Nation, without being for ſome Time out of Humour with my ſelf, and at every Thing about me. Their Buſineſs is, to depre⯑ciate humane Nature, and conſider it under its worſt Appearances. They give mean Interpreta⯑tions and baſe Motives to the worthieſt Actions: They reſolve Virtue and Vice into Conſtitution. In ſhort, they endeavour to make no Diſtinction between Man and Man, or between the Species of Men and that of Brutes. As an Inſtance of this kind of Authors, among many others, let any one examine the celebrated Rochefaucault, who is the great Philoſopher for adminiſtring of [354] Conſolation to the Idle, the Envious, and worth⯑leſs Part of Mankind.

I remember a young Gentleman of moderate Underſtanding, but great Vivacity, who by dip⯑ping into many Authors of this Nature, had got a little Smattering of Knowledge, juſt enough to make an Atheiſt or a Free-thinker, but not a Philoſopher or a Man of Senſe. With theſe Ac⯑compliſhments, he went to viſit his Father in the Country, who was a plain rough, honeſt Man, and wiſe, though not learned. The Son, who took all Opportunities to ſhow his Learning, began to eſtabliſh a new Religion in the Family, and to enlarge the Narrowneſs of their Coun⯑try Notions; in which he ſucceeded ſo well, that he had ſeduced the Butler by his Table Talk, and ſtaggered his eldeſt Siſter. The old Gentle⯑man began to be alarmed at the Schiſms that aroſe among his Children, but did not yet be⯑lieve his Son's Doctrine to be ſo pernicious as it really was, 'till one Day talking of his Setting. Dog, the Son ſaid, He did not queſtion but Trey was as immortal as any one of the Family; and in the Heat of the Argument told his Father, That for his own Part, he expected to die like a Dog. Upon which, the old Man ſtarting up in a very great Paſſion, cried out, Then, Sirrah, you ſhall live like one; and taking his Cane in his Hand, cudgelled him out of his Syſtem. This had ſo good an Effect upon him, that he took up from that Day, fell to reading good Books, and is now a Bencher in the Middle-Temple.

I do not mention this Cudgelling Part of the Story with a Deſign to engage the ſecular Arm in Matters of this Nature; but certainly, if it ever exerts it ſelf in Affairs of Opinion and Spe⯑culation, it ought to do it on ſuch ſhallow and deſpicable Pretenders to Knowledge. who endea⯑vour to give a Man dark and uncomfortable Pro⯑ſpects [355] of his Being, and deſtroy thoſe Principles which are the Support, Happineſs, and Glory, of all publick Societies, as well as private Perſons.

I think it is one of Pythagoras's Golden Sayings, That a Man ſhould take Care above all Things to have a due Reſpect for himſelf: And it is certain, that this licentious Sort of Authors, who are for depreciating Mankind, endeavoured to diſappoint and undo what the moſt refined Spirits have been labouring to advance ſince the Beginning of the World. The very Deſign of Dreſs, good Breed⯑ings, outward Ornaments, and Ceremony, were to lift up humane Nature, and ſet it off to an Ad⯑vantage. Architecture, Painting, and Statuary, were invented with the ſame Deſign; as indeed every Art and Science contributes to the Embel⯑liſhment of Life, and to the wearing off or throw⯑ing into Shades the mean and low Parts of our Nature. Poetry carries on this great End more than all the reſt, as may be ſeen in the following Paſſage, taken out of Sir Francis Bacon's Advance⯑ment of Learning, which gives a truer and better Account of this Art than all the Volumes that were ever written upon it.

But there is nothing which favours and falls in with this natural Greatneſs and Dignity of hu⯑mane Nature ſo much as Religion, which does not only promiſe the entire Refinement of the Mind, but the glorifying of the Body, and the Immortality of both.

THere has not ſome Years been ſuch a Tu⯑mult in our Neighbourhood as this Even⯑ing about Six. At the lower End of the Lane the Word was given, That there was a great Fu⯑neral coming by. The next Moment came for⯑ward in a very haſty, inſtead of a ſolemn, Man⯑ner, a long Train of Lights, when at laſt a Foot⯑man, in very high Youth and Health, with all his Force, ran through the whole Art of beating the Door of the Houſe next to me, and ended his Rattle with the true finiſhing Rap. This did not only bring one to the Door at which he knocked, but to that of every one in the Lane in an In⯑ſtant. Amongſt the reſt, my Country Maid took the Alarm, and immediately running to me, told me, there was a fine, fine Lady, who had Three Men with Burial Torches making Way before her, carried by Two Men upon Poles, with Looking⯑glaſſes on each Side of her, and one Glaſs alſo before, ſhe her ſelf appearing the prettieſt that ever was. The Girl was going on in her Story, when the Lady was come to my Door in her Chair, having miſtaken the Houſe. As ſoon as ſhe entered, I ſaw ſhe was Mr. Iſaac's Scholar, by her Speaking Air, and the becoming Stop ſhe made when ſhe began her Apology. You'll be ſurprized Sir, (ſaid ſhe) that I take this Li⯑berty. who am utterly a Stranger to you: Be⯑ſides that, it may be thought an Indecorum that [358] I viſit a Man. She made here a pretty Heſitation, and held her Fan to her Face—Then, as if recovering her Reſolution, ſhe proceeded—But I think you have ſaid, that Men of your Age are of no Sex; therefore I may be as free with you as one of my own. The Lady did me the Honour to conſult me on ſome particular Mat⯑ters, which I am not at Liberty to report. But before ſhe took her Leave, ſhe produced a long Liſt of Names, which ſhe looked upon to know whither ſhe was to go next. I muſt confeſs, I could hardly forbear diſcovering to her imme⯑diately, that I ſecretly laughed at the fantaſtical Regularity ſhe obſerved in throwing away her Time; but I ſeemed to indulge her in it, out of a Curioſity to hear her own Senſe of her Way of Life. Mr. Bickerſtaff, (ſaid ſhe) you cannot imagine how much you are obliged to me in ſtaying thus long with you, having ſo ma⯑ny Viſits to make; and indeed, if I had not Hopes that a Third Part of thoſe I am going to will be Abroad, I ſhould be unable to diſpatch them this Evening. Madam, (ſaid I) Are you in all this Haſte and Perplexity, and only going to ſuch as you have not a Mind to ſee? Yes Sir, (ſaid ſhe) I have ſeveral now with whom I keep a conſtant Correſpondence, and return Viſit for Viſit punctually every Week, and yet we have not ſeen each other ſince laſt November was Twelve⯑month.

She went on with a very good Air, and fix⯑ing her Eyes on her Li [...]t, told me, ſhe was obli⯑ged to ride about Three Miles and an half be⯑fore ſhe arrived at her own Houſe. I asked af⯑ter what Manner this Li [...]t was taken, whether the Perſons writ their Names to her, and deſi⯑red that Favour, or how ſhe knew ſhe was not cheated in her Muſter-Roll? The Method we take (ſays ſhe) is, That the Porter or Servant who comes to the Door, writes down all the [359] Names who come to ſee us, and all ſuch are en⯑titled to a Return of their Viſit. But, ſaid I, Ma⯑dam, I preſume thoſe who are ſearching for each other, and know one another by Meſſages, may be underſtood as Candidates only for each other's Favour; and that after ſo many Howdee's, you proceed to viſit or not, as you like the Run of each other's Reputation or Fortune. You underſtand it aright, ſaid ſhe, and we become Friends. As ſoon as we are convinced that our Diſlike to each other may be of any Conſequence, for to tell you truly, ſaid ſhe, (for it is in vain to hide any Thing from a Man of your Penetration) general Viſits are not made out of good Will, but for Fear of ill Will. Punctuality in this Caſe is often a ſuſpi⯑cious Circumſtance; and there is nothing ſo com⯑mon as to have a Lady ſay, I hope ſhe has heard nothing of what I ſaid of her, that ſhe grows ſo great with me—But indeed, my Porter is ſo dull and negligent, that I fear he has not put down half the People I owe Viſits to. Madam, ſaid I, methinks it ſhould be very proper if your Gentleman-Uſher or Groom of the Chamber were always to keep an Account by Way of Debtor and Creditor. I know a City Lady who uſes that Method, which I think very laudable; for tho' you may poſſibly at the Court-End of the Town receive at the Door, and light up better than within Temple Bar, yet I muſt do that Juſtice to my Friends the Ladies within the Walls to own, that they are much more exact in their Correſpon⯑dence. The Lady I was going to mention as an Example, has always the Second Prentice out of the Compting-houſe for her own Uſe on her Viſit⯑ing-Day, and he ſets down very methodically all the Viſits which are made her. I remember very well, that on the Firſt of January laſt, when ſhe made up her Account for the Year 1708, it ſtood thus:

This Gentlewoman is a Woman of great Oe⯑conomy, and was not afraid to go to the Bottom of her Affairs; and therefore ordered her Ap⯑prentice to give her Credit for my Lady Eaſy's impertinent Viſits upon wrong Days, and de⯑duct only Twelve per Cent. He had Orders alſo to ſubſtract One and an Half from the whole of ſuch as ſhe had denied her ſelf to before ſhe kept a Day; and after taking thoſe proper Arti⯑cles of Credit on her Side, ſhe was in Arrear but Five Hundred. She ordered her Husband to buy in a Couple of freſh Coach-Horſes; and with no other Loſs, than the Death of Two Footmen, and a Church-yard Cough brought upon her Coachman, ſhe was clear in the World on the 10th of February laſt, and keeps ſo be⯑fore-hand, that ſhe pays every Body their own, and yet makes daily new Acquaintances. I know not whether this agreeable Viſitant was fired with the Example of the Lady I told her of, but ſhe immediately vaniſhed out of my Sight, it being, it ſeems, as neceſſary a Point of good Breeding, to go off as if you ſtole ſome⯑thing out of the Houſe, as it is to enter as if you came to fire it. I do not know one Thing that contributes ſo much to the leſſening the Eſteem Men of Senſe have to the Fair Sex as this Article of Viſits. A young Lady cannot be married, but all the Impertinents in Town muſt be beating the Tattoo from one Quarter of the Town to the other, to ſhow they know what paſſes. If a Man of Honour ſhould once in an [361] Age marry a Woman of Merit for her intrin⯑ſick Value, the envious Things are all in Mo⯑tion in an Inſtant to make it known to the Siſter⯑hood as an Indiſeretion, and publiſh to the Town how many Pounds he might have had to have been troubled with one of them. After they are tired with that, the next Thing is, to make their Compliments to the married Couple and their Re⯑lations. They are equally buſy at a Funeral, and the Death of a Perſon of Quality is always at⯑tended with the Murder of ſeveral Sets of Coach-Horſes and Chairmen. In both Caſes, the Viſi⯑tants are wholly unaffected, either with Joy or Sorrow. For which Reaſon, their Congratulations and Condoleances are equally Words of Courſe; and one would be thought wonderfully ill-bred, that ſhould build upon ſuch Expreſſions as Encou⯑ [...]agements, to expect from them any Inſtance of Friendſhip.

Thus are the true Cauſes of Living, and the [...]d Pleaſures of Life, loſt in Show, Impoſture, and Impertinence. As for my Part, I think moſt of the Misfortunes in Families ariſe from the trifling Way the Women have in ſpending their Time, and gratifying only their Eyes and [...]s, inſtead of their Reaſon and Underſtand⯑ing.

A fine young Woman, bred under a Viſiting [...]ther knows all that is poſſible for her to be [...]ainted with by Report, and ſees the Virtuous [...]d the Vicious uſed ſo indifferently, that the [...]rs ſhe is born with are abated, and Deſires in⯑ [...]ged, in Proportion to her Love of that light and triſling Converſation. I know I talk like an old Man; but I muſt go on to ſay, that I think, the general Reception of mixed Company, and me Pretty Fellows that are admitted at thoſe Aſſemblies, give a young Woman ſo falſe an Idea of Life, that ſhe is generally bred up with a [...]orn of that Sort of Merit in a Man, which only [362] can make her happy in Marriage; and the Wretch, to whoſe Lot ſhe falls, very often re⯑ceives in his Arms a Conquet, with the Refuſe of an Heart long before given away to a Cox⯑comb.

AS ſoon as I had placed my ſelf in my Chair of Jud cature, I order'd my Clerk Mr. Lil⯑lie to read to the Aſſembly (who were gather'd together according to Notice) a certain Declara⯑tion, by Way of Charge, to open the Purpoſe of my Seſſion, which tended only to this Explana⯑tion, That as other Courts were often called to demand the Execution of Perſons dead in Law, [363] ſo this was held to give the laſt Orders relating to thoſe who are dead in Reaſon. The Solicitor of the new Company of Upholders near the Hay⯑market appeared in Behalf of that uſeful Society, and brought in an Accuſation of a young Wo⯑man, who her ſelf ſtood at the Bar before me. Mr. Lillie read her Indictment, which was in Subſtance, That whereas Mrs. Rebecca Pinduſt, of the Pariſh of St. Martin in the Fields, had, by the Uſe of one Inſtrument called a Looking⯑glaſs, and by the further Uſe of certain Attire, made either of Cambrick, Muſlin, or other Li⯑nen Wares, upon her Head, attained to ſuch an evil Art and Magical Force in the Motion of her Eyes and Turn of her Countenance, that ſhe the ſaid Rebecca had put to Death ſeveral young Men of the ſaid Pariſh; and that the ſaid young Men had acknowledged in certain Papers, commonly called Love Letters, (which were produced in Court, gilded on the Edges, and ſealed with a particular Wax, with certain amorous and en⯑chanting Words wrought upon the ſaid Seals) that they died for the ſaid Rebecca: And whereas the ſaid Rebecca perſiſted in the ſaid evil Pra⯑ctice; this Way of Life the ſaid Society conſtru⯑ed to be, according to former Edicts, a State of Death, and demanded an Order for the Interr⯑ment of the ſaid Rebecca.

I looked upon the Maid with great Humanity, and deſired her to make Anſwer to what was ſaid againſt her. She ſaid, It was indeed true, that the had practiſed all the Arts and Means ſhe could to diſpoſe of her ſelf happily in Marriage, but thought ſhe did not come under the Cen⯑ſure expreſſed in my Writings for the ſame; and humbly hoped, I would not condemn her for the Ignorance of her Accuſers, who according to their own Words, had rather repreſented her kil⯑ling, than dead. She further alledged, That the Expreſſions mentioned in the Papers written to [364] her, were become meer Words, and that ſhe had been always ready to marry any of thoſe who ſaid they died for her; but that they made their Eſcape as ſoon as they found themſelves pitied or believed. She ended her Diſcourſe, by deſi⯑ring I would for the future ſettle the Meaning of the Words, I Die, in Letters of Love.

Mrs. Pinduſt behaved her ſelf with ſuch an Air of Innocence, that ſhe eaſily gained Credit, and was acquitted. Upon which Occaſion, I gave it as a ſtanding Rule. That any Perſons, who in any Letter. Billet, or Diſcourſe, ſhould tell a Woman he died for her, ſhould, if ſhe pleaſed, be obliged to live with her, or be immediately interred upon ſuch their own Confeſſion, without Bail or Main⯑prize.

It happen'd, that the very next who was brought before me was one of her Admirers, who was indicted upon that very Head. A Let⯑ter which he acknowledged to be his own Hand was read; in which were the following Words; Cruel Creature, I die for you It was obſervable that he took Snuff all the Time his Accuſation was reading. I asked him, How he came to uſe theſe Words, if he were not a dead Man? He told me, He was in Love with the Lady, and did not know any other Way of telling her ſo; and that all his Acquaintance took the ſame Method. Tho' I was moved with Compaſſion towards him by reaſon of the Weakneſs of his Parts, yet for Example's Sake, I was forced to anſwer, Your Sentence ſhall be a Warning to all the reſt of your Companions; not to tell Lies for want of Wit. Upon this, he began to beat his Snuff⯑box with a very ſawcy Air; and opening it again, Faith Iſaac, ſaid he, thou art a very unac⯑countable old Fellow—Prithee, who gave thee Power of Life and Death? What-a-Pox haſt thou to do with Ladies and Lovers? I ſuppoſe thou wouldſt have a Man be in Company with his Mi⯑ſtreſs, [365] and ſay nothing to her. Doſt thou call breaking a Jeſt, telling a Lie? Ha! Is that thy Wiſdom, old Stiffrump, ha? He was going on with this inſipid Common-place Mirth, ſometimes opening his Box, ſometimes ſhutting it, then viewing the Picture on the Lid, and then the Workmanſhip of the Hinge, when in the midſt of his Eloquence, I order'd his Box to be taken from him; upon which he was immediately ſtruck ſpeechleſs, and carried off ſtone-dead.

The next who appeared, was a hale old Fel⯑low of Sixty. He was brought in by his Rela⯑tions, who deſired Leave to bury him. Upon re⯑quiring a diſtinct Account of the Priſoner, a cre⯑dible Witneſs depoſed, That he always roſe at Ten of the Clock, played with his Car till Twelve, ſmoaked Tobacco till One, was at Din⯑ner till Two, then took another Pipe, played at Backgammon till Six, talked of one Madam Frances, an old Miſtreſs of his, till Eight, re⯑peated the ſame Account at the Tavern till Ten, then returned Home, took t'other Pipe, and then to Bed. I asked him, What he had to ſay for himſelf? As to what (ſaid he) they mention concerning Madam Frances—I did not care for hearing a Canterbury Tale, and therefore thought my ſelf ſeaſonably interrupted by a young Gen⯑tleman, who appeared in the Behalf of the old Man, and prayed an Arreſt of Judgment; for that he the ſaid young Man held certain Lands by his the ſaid old Man's Life. Upon this, the Solicitor of the Upholders took an Occaſion to demand him alſo, and thereupon produced ſeve⯑ral Evidences that witneſſed to his Life and Con⯑verſation. It appeared, That each of them divi⯑ded their Hours in Matters of equal Moment and Importance to themſelves and to the Publick. They roſe at the ſame Hour: While the old Man was playing with his Cat, the young One was looking out of his Window; while the old Man [366] was ſmoaking his Pipe, the young Man was rub⯑bing his Teeth; while One was at Dinner, the Other was dreſſing; while One was at Back⯑gammon, the Other was at Dinner; while the old Fellow was talking of Madam Frances, the young One was either at Play, or toaſting Women whom he never convers'd with. The only Difference was, That the young Man had never been good for any Thing; the old Man, a Man of Worth be⯑fore he knew Madam Frances. Upon the Whole, I order'd them to be both interred together, with Inſcriptions proper to their Characters, ſignifying, That the old Man died in the Year 1689, and was buried in the Year 1709. And over the young One it was ſaid, That he departed this World in the 25th Year of his Death.

The next Claſs of Criminals, were Authors in Proſe and Verſe. Thoſe of them who had pro⯑duced any ſtill-born Work, were immediately diſmiſſed to their Burial, and were followed by others, who, notwithſtanding ſome ſprightly Iſ⯑ſue in their Life-time, had given Proofs of their Death by ſome Poſthumous Children, that bore no Reſemblance to their elder Brethren. As for thoſe who were the Fathers of a mixed Progeny, provided always they could prove the laſt to be a live Child, they eſcaped with Life, but not without Loſs of Limbs; for in this Caſe, I was ſatisfied with Amputation of the Parts which were mortified.

Theſe were followed by a great Crowd of ſu⯑perannuated Benchers of the Inns of Court, Se⯑nior Fellows of Colleges, and defunct Stateſmen: all whom I order'd to be decimated indifferent⯑ly, allowing the reſt a Reprieve for one Year, with a Promiſe of a free Pardon in caſe of Re⯑ſuſcitation.

There were ſtill great Multitudes to be exami⯑ned; but finding it very late. I adjourned the Court; not without the ſecret Pleaſure that I had [367] done my Duty, and furniſhed out an handſome Execution.

Going out of the Court, I received a Letter, informing me, That in Purſuance of the Edict of Juſtice in one of my late Viſions, all thoſe of the Fair Sex began to appear pregnant who had ran any Hazard of it; as was manifeſt by a particu⯑lar Swelling in the Petticoats of ſeveral Ladies in and about this great City. I muſt confeſs, I do not attribute the Riſing of this Part of the Dreſs to this Occaſion, yet muſt own, that I am very much diſpoſed to be offended with ſuch a new and unaccountable Faſhion. I ſhall however pro⯑nounce nothing upon it, till I have examined all that can be ſaid for and againſt it. And in the mean Time, think fit to give this Notice to the fair Ladies who are now making up their Win⯑ter-Suits, that they may abſtain from all Dreſſes of that Kind, till they ſhall find what Judgment will be paſſed upon them; for it would very much trouble me, that they ſhould put themſelves to an unneceſſary Expence; and could not but think my ſelf to blame, if I ſhould hereafter forbid them the Wearing of ſuch Garments, when they have laid out Money upon them, without having given them any previous Admonition.

THE Watchman, who does me particular Honours, as being the chief Man in the Lane, gave ſo very great a Thump at my Door laſt Night, that I awakened at the Knock, and heard my ſelf complimented with the uſual Sa⯑kitation of, Good morrow Mr. Bickerſtaff, Good morrow my Maſters all. The Silence and Dark⯑neſs of the Night, diſpoſed me to be more than ordinarily ſerious; and as my Attention was not drawn out among exterior Objects, by the Avo⯑cations of Senſe, my Thoughts naturally fell up⯑on my ſelf. I was conſidering, amidſt the Stil⯑neſs of the Night What was the proper Employ⯑ment of a Thinking Being? What were the Per⯑fections it ſhould propoſe to it ſelf? And, What the End it ſhould aim at? My Mind is of ſuch a particular Caſt, that the Falling of a Shower of Rain, or the Whiſtling of Wind, at ſuch a Time, is apt to fill my Thoughts with ſomething awful and ſolemn. I was in this Diſpoſition, when our Bellman began his Midnight Homily (which he has been repeating to us every Winter Night for theſe Twenty Years) with the uſual Exordium:

Sentiments of this Nature, which are in them⯑ſelves juſt and reaſonable, however debaſed by [369] the Circumſtances that accompany them, do not fail to produce their natural Effect in a Mind that is not perverted and depraved by wrong No⯑tions of Gallantry, Politeneſs, and Ridicule. The Temper which I now found my ſelf in, as well as the Time of the Year, put me in Mind of thoſe Lines in Shakeſpeare, wherein, according to his agreeable Wildneſs of Imagination, he has wrought a Country Tradition into a beautiful Piece of Poetry. In the Tragedy of Hamlet, where the Ghoſt vaniſhes upon the Cock's Crow⯑ing, he takes Occaſion to mention its Crowing all Hours of the Night about Chriſtmas Time, and to inſinuate a Kind of religious Veneration for that Seaſon.

This admirable Author, as well as the beſt and greateſt Men of all Ages, and of all Nations, ſeems to have had his Mind throughly ſeaſoned with Religion, as is evident by many Paſſages in his Plays, that would not be ſuffered by a mo⯑dern Audience; and are therefore certain In⯑ſtances, that the Age he lived in had a much greater Senſe of Virtue than the preſent.

It is indeed a melancholy Reduction to conſider, That the Britiſh Nation, which is now at a greater Height of Glory for its Councils and Conqueſts than it ever was before, ſhould diſtinguiſh it ſelf by a certain Looſeneſs of Principles, and a Falling off from thoſe Schemes of Thinking, which con⯑duce to the Happineſs and Perfection of humane Nature. This Evil comes upon us from the Works [370] of a few ſolemn Blockheads, that meet together with the Zeal and Seriouſneſs of Apoſtles, to ex⯑tirpate common Senſe, and propagate Infidelity. Theſe are the Wretches, who, without any Show of Wit, Learning, or Reaſon, publiſh their crude Conceptions with an Ambition of appearing more wiſe than the reſt of Mankind, upon no other Pre⯑tence, than that of diſſenting from them. One gets by Heart a Catalogue of Title Pages and Editions; and immediately to become conſpicuous, declares that he is an Unbeliever. Another knows how to write a Receipt, or cut up a Dog, and forthwith argues againſt the Immortality of the Soul. I have known many a little Wit, in the Oſtenta⯑tion of his Parts, rally the Truth of the Scripture, who was not able to read a Chapter in it. Theſe poor Wretches talk Blaſphemy for want of Diſ⯑courſe, and are rather the Objects of Scorn or Pity, than of our Indignation; but the grave Diſ⯑putant, that reads and writes, and ſpends all his Time in convincing himſelf and the World, that he is no better than a Brute, ought to be whipped out of a Government, as a Blot to a civil Society, and a Defamer of Mankind. I love to conſider an Infidel, whether diſtinguiſhed by the Title of Deiſt, Atheiſt, or Free-Thinker, in Three diffe⯑rent Lights, in his Solitudes, his Afflictions, and his laſt Moments.

A wiſe Man, that lives up to the Principles of Reaſon and Virtue, if one conſiders him in his Solitude, as taking in the Syſtem of the Univerſe, obſerving the mutual Dependance and Harmony, by which the whole Frame of it hangs together, beating down his Paſſions, or ſwelling his Thoughts with magnificent Idea's of Providence, makes a nobler Figure in the Eye of an intelligent Being, than the greateſt Conqueror amidſt all the Pomps and Solemnities of a Triumph. On the contrary, there is not a more ridiculous Animal than an Atheiſt in his Retirement. His Mind is incapable [371] of Rapture or Elevation: He can only conſider himſelf as an inſignificant Figure in a Landskip, and wandring up and down in a Field or a Mea⯑dow, under the ſame Terms as the meaneſt Ani⯑mals about him, and as ſubject to as total a Mor⯑tality as they, with this Aggravation, That he is the only one amongſt 'em who lies under the Apprehenſion of it.

In Diſtreſſes, he muſt be of all Creatures the moſt helpleſs and forlorn; he feels the whole Preſſure of a preſent Calamity, without being re⯑lieved by the Memory of any Thing that is paſ⯑ſed, or the Proſpect of any Thing that is to come. Annihilation is the greateſt Bleſſing that he pro⯑poſes to himſelf, and an Halter or a Piſtol the only Refuge he can fly to. But if you would be⯑hold one of theſe Goomy Miſcreants in his poor⯑eſt Figure, you muſt conſider him under the Ter⯑rors, or at the Approach, of Death.

About Thirty Years ago I was a Shipboard with one of theſe Vermin, when there aroſe a brisk Gale, which could frighten no Body but himſelf. Upon the Rowling of the Ship he fell upon his Knees, and confeſſed to the Chaplain, that he had been a vile Atheiſt, and had denied a Supreme Being ever ſince he came to his Eſtate. The good Man was aſtoni⯑ſhed, and a Report immediately ran thro' the Ship, That there was an Atheiſt upon the Upper-Deck. Several of the common Seamen, who had never heard the Word before, thought it had been ſome ſtrange Fiſh; but they were more ſurpriſed when they ſaw it was a Man, and heard out of his own Mouth, That he never beheved till that Day that there was a God. As he lay in the Agonies of Confeſſion, one of the honeſt Tarrs whiſpered to the Boatſwain, That it would be a good Deed to heave him over Board. But we were now within Sight of Port, when of a ſudden the Wind fell, and the Penitent relapſed, begging all of us that [372] were preſent, as we were Gentlemen, not to ſay any Thing of what had paſſed.

He had not been aſhore above Two Days, when one of the Company began to rally him upon his Devotion on Shipboard, which the other denied in ſo high Terms, that it produced the Lie on both Sides, and ended in a Duel. The Atheiſt was run through the Body, and after ſome Loſs of Blood, became as good a Chriſtian as he was at Sea, till he found that his Wound was not mortal. He is at preſent one of the Free Thinkers of the Age, and now writing a Pamphlet againſt ſeveral re⯑ceiv'd Opinions concerning the Exiſtence of Fairies.

As I have taken upon me to cenſure the Faults of the Age and Country which I live in, I ſhould have thought my ſelf inexcuſable to have paſſed over this Crying one, which is the Subject of my preſent Diſcourſe. I ſhall therefore from Time to Time give my Countrymen particular Cautions againſt this Diſtemper of the Mind, that is almoſt become faſhionable, and by that Means more likely to ſpread. I have ſomewhere either read or heard a very memorable Sentence, That a Man would be a moſt inſupportable Monſter, ſhould he have the Faults that are incident to his Years. Conſtitution, Profeſſion, Family, Religion, Age, and Country; and yet every Man is in Danger of them all. For this Reaſon, as I am an old Man, I take particular Care to avoid being covetous, and telling long Stories: As I am Cholerick, I forbear not only Swearing, but all Interjections of Fretting, as Pugh! Piſh! and the like. As I am a Layman, I reſolve not to conceive an A verſion for a wiſe and a good Man, becauſe his Coat is of a different Colour from mine. As I am de⯑ſcended of the ancient Family of the Bickerſtaffs, I never call a Man of Merit an Upſtart. As a Pro⯑teſtant, I do not ſuffer my Zeal ſo far to tranſport me, as to name the Pope and the Devil together. As I am fallen into this degenerate Age, I guard [373] my ſelf particularly againſt the Folly I have been now ſpeaking of. And as I am an Engliſhman, I am very cautious not to hate a Stranger, or de⯑ſpiſe a poor Palatine.

AS I was looking over my Letters this Morn⯑ing, I chanced to caſt my Eye upon the following one, which came to my Hands about Two Months ago from an old Friend of mine, who, as I have ſince learned, was the Perſon that writ the agreeable Epiſtle inſerted in my Paper of the Third of the laſt Month. It is of the ſame Turn with the other, and may be look⯑ed upon as a Specimen of Right Country Letters.

The beſt Critick that ever wrote, ſpeaking of ſome Paſſages in Homer which appear extravagant or frivolous, ſays indeed that they are Dreams; but the Dreams of Jupiter. My Friend's Let⯑ter appears to me in the ſame Light. One ſees him in an idle Hour; but at the ſame Time in the idle Hour of a wiſe Man. A great Mind has ſomething in it too ſevere and forbidding that is not capable of giving it ſelf ſuch little Re⯑laxations, and of condeſcending to theſe agree⯑able Ways of Trifling. Tully, when he cele⯑brates the Friendſhip of Scipio and Lelius, who were the greateſt as well as the politeſt Men of their Age, repreſents it as a beautiful Paſ⯑ſage in their Retirement, that they uſed to ga⯑ther up Shells on the Sea-ſhore, and amuſe themſelves with the Variety of Shape and Co⯑lour, which they met with in thoſe little unre⯑garded Works of Nature. The great Ageſilaus could be a Companion to his own Children, and was ſurprized by the Ambaſſadors of Sparta, as he was riding among them upon an Hobby-Horſe. Auguſtus indeed had no Play-Fellows of his own begetting; but is ſaid to have paſ⯑ſed many of his Hours with little Mooriſh Boys at a Game of Marbles, not unlike our mod rn Taw. There is (methinks) a Pleaſure in ſee⯑ing great Men thus fall into the Rank of Man⯑kind, and entertain themſelves with Diverſions and Amuſements that are agreeable to the very weakeſt of the Species. I muſt frankly confeſs, that it is to me a Beauty in Cato's Character, that he would drink a chearful Bottle with a Friend, and I cannot but own, that I have [376] ſeen with great Delight one of the moſt celebra⯑ted Authors of the laſt Age feeding the Ducks in St. James's Park. By Inſtances or this Na⯑ture, the Heroes, the Stateſmen, the Philoſo⯑phers, become as it were familiar with us, and grow the more amiable, the leſs they endeavour to appear awful. A Man who always acts in the Severity of Wiſdom, or the Haughtineſs of Quality, ſeems to move in a perſonated art: It looks too Conſt ained and Theatrical for a Man to be always in that Character which diſtinguiſhes him from others. Beſides that, the Slackening and Unbending our Minds on ſome Occaſions, makes them exert themſelves with greater Vi⯑gour and Alacrity, when they return to their pro⯑per and natural State.

As this innocent Way of paſſing a leiſure Hour is not only conſiſtent with a great Chara⯑cter, but very graceful in it, ſo there are Two Sorts of People to whom I would moſt earneſtly recommend it. The Firſt, are thoſe who are un⯑eaſy out of Want of Thought; the Second, are thoſe who are ſo out of a Turbulence of Spirit. The Firſt a e the impertinent, and the Second the dangerous Part of Mankind.

It grieves me to the very Heart, when I ſee ſeveral young Gentlemen, deſcended of honeſt Parents, run up and down hurrying from one End of the Town to the other, calling in at every Place of Reſort, without being able to fix a Qua ter of an Hour in any, and in a particular Haſte without knowing for what. It would (methinks) be ſome Conſolation, if I could per⯑ſwade theſe precipitate young Gentlemen to compoſe this Reſtleſneſs of Mind, and apply themſelves to any Amuſement, how trivial ſo⯑ever, that might give them Employment, and keep them out of Harm's Way. They cannot imagine how great a Relief it would be to them, if they could grow ſedate enough to play for [377] Two or Three Hours at a Game of Puſh-pin. But theſe buſy, idle Animals, are only their own Tormentors: The Turbulent and Dangerous are for embroiling Councils, ſtirring up Seditions, and ſubverting Conſtitutions, out of a meer Reſt⯑leſneſs of Temper, and an Inſenſibility of all the Pleaſures of Life that are calm and innocent. It is impoſſible for a Man to be ſo much em⯑ployed in any Scene of Action, as to have great and good Affairs enough to fill up his whole Time; there will ſtill be Caſms and empty Spaces, in which a working Mind will employ it ſelf to its own Prejudice, or that of others, un⯑leſs it can be at Eaſe in the Exerciſe of ſuch Actions as are in themſelves indifferent. How often have I wiſhed, for the Good of the Na⯑tion, That ſeveral famous Politicians could take any Pleaſure in feeding Ducks. I look upon an able Stateſman out of Buſineſs like a huge Whale, that will endeavour to overturn the Ship, unleſs he has an empty Cask to play with.

But to return to my good Friend and Correſ⯑pondent, I am afraid we ſhall both be laughed at, when I confeſs, that we have often gone out into the Field to look upon a Bird's-Neſt; and have more than once taken an Evening's Walk together on purpoſe to ſee the Sun ſet. I ſhall conclude with my Anſwer to his foregoing Let⯑ter:

WHereas the Gentleman that behaved him⯑ſelf in a very diſobedient and obſtinate Manner at his late Trial in Sheer-Lane on the 20th Inſtant, and was carried off dead upon the taking away of his Snuff-Box, remains ſtill un⯑buried; the Company of Upholders not know⯑ing otherwiſe how they ſhould be paid, have ta⯑ken his Goods in Execution to defray the Charge of his Funeral. His ſaid Effects are to be ex⯑poſed to Sale by Auction at their Office in the Hay-market on the 4th of January next, and are as follows:

• A very rich Tweezer-Caſe, containing Twelve Inſtruments for the Uſe of each Hour in the Day.
• Four Pounds of ſcented Snuff, with Three gilt Snuff-Boxes; one of them with an inviſible Hinge, and a Looking-glaſs in the Lid.
• Two more of Ivory, with the Portraitures on their Lids of Two Ladies of the Town; the Ori⯑ginals to be ſeen every Night in the Side-Boxes of the Playhouſe.
• A Sword with a Steel Diamond Hilt, never drawn but once at May-Fair.
• Six clean Packs of Cards, a Quart of Orange-Flower Water, a Pair of French Sciſſars, a Tooth⯑pick Caſe, and an Eyebrow Bruſh.
• [380] A large Glaſs-Caſe, containing the Linen and Clothes of the Deceaſed; among which are, Two embroider'd Suits, a Pocket Perſpective, a Dozen Pair of Red-heel'd Shoes, Three Pair of Red Silk Stockings, and an Amber-headed Cane.
• The Strong Box of the Deceaſed, wherein were found, Five Billetdoux, a Bath Shilling, a crooked Sixpence, a Silk Garter, a Lock of Hair, and Three broken Fans.
• A Preſs for Books; containing on the Upper Shelf,
• Three Bottles of Diet-Drink.
• Two Boxes of Pills.
• A Syringe, and other Mathematical Inſtru⯑ments.

On the Second Shelf are ſeveral Miſcellaneous Works; as,

• Lampoons.
• Plays.
• Taylors Bills.
• And an Almanack for the Year Seventeen Hundred.

On the Third Shelf.

• A Bundle of Letters unopened, indorſed, (in the Hand of the Deceaſed) Letters from the Old Gentleman.
• Leſſons for the Flute.
• Toland's Chriſtianity not Myſterious. And a Paper filled with Patterns of ſeveral faſhionable Stuffs.

On the Loweſt Shelf,

• One Shoe.
• A Pair of Snuffers.
• A French Grammar.
• A Mourning Hatband: And half a Bottle of Uſquebaugh.

There will be added to theſe Goods, to make a compleat Auction, a Collection of Gold Snuff-Boxes and clouded Canes, which are to conti⯑nue in Faſhion for Three Months after the Sale.

[381] The Whole are to be ſet up and prized by Charles Eubbleboy, who is to open the Auction with a Speech.

I find that I am ſo very unhappy, that while I am buſy in correcting the Folly and Vice of one Sex, ſeveral Exorbitances break out in the other. I have not throughly examined their new-fa⯑ſhioned Petticoats, but ſhall ſet aſide one Day in the next Week for that Purpoſe. The following Petition on this Subject was preſented to me this Morning.

I have likewiſe received a Female Petition, ſign⯑ed by ſeveral Thouſands, praying, That I would not any longer defer giving Judgment in the Caſe of the Petticoat, many of them having Put off the making new Clothes, till ſuch Time as they know what Verdict will paſs upon it. I do therefore hereby certify to all whom it may concern, That I do deſign to ſet apart Tueſday next for the final Determination of that Matter, having already or⯑dered a Jury of Matrons to be impannelled, for the clearing up of any difficult Points that may a⯑riſe in the Trial.

I Was walking about my Chamber this Morn⯑ing in a very gay Humour, when I ſaw a Coach ſtop at my Door, and a Youth about Fif⯑teen alighting out of it, whom I perceived to be the eldeſt Son of my Boſom-Friend that I gave ſome Account of in my Paper of the 17th of the laſt Month. I felt a ſenſible Pleaſure riſing in me at the Sight of him, my Acquaintance having begun with his Father when he was juſt ſuch a Stripling, and about that very Age. When he came up to me, he took me by the Hand, and burſt out in Tears. I was extremely moved, and immediately ſaid, Child, How does your Father [384] do? He began to reply, My Mother—But could not go on for weeping. I went down with him into the Coach, and gathered out of him, That his Mother was then dying, and that while the holy Man was doing the laſt Offices to her, he had taken that Time to come and call me to his Father, who (he ſaid) would certainly break his Heart if I did not go and comfort him. The Child's Diſcretion in coming to me of his own Head, and the Tenderneſs he ſhowed for his Pa⯑rents, would have quite overpowered me, had I not reſolved to fortify my ſelf for the ſeaſonable Performances of thoſe Duties which I owed to my Friend. As we were going, I could not but reflect upon the Character of that excellent Wo⯑man, and the Greatneſs of his Grief for the Loſs of one who has ever been the Support to him under all other Afflictions. How (thought I) will he be able to bear the Hour of her Death, that could not, when I was lately with him, ſpeak of a Sickneſs, which was then paſt, without Sor⯑row. We were now got pretty far into Weſtm n⯑ſter, and arrived at my Friend's Houſe. At the Door of it I met Favonius, not without a ſecret Satisfaction to find he had been there. I had formerly converſed with him at this Houſe; and as he abounds with that Sort of Virtue and Knowledge which makes Religion beautiful, and never leads the Converſation into the Vio⯑lence and Rage of Party-Diſputes, I liſtened to him with great Pleaſure. Our Diſcourſe chan⯑ced to be upon the Subject of Death, which he treated with ſuch a Strength of Reaſon, and Greatneſs of Soul, that inſtead of being terrible, it appeared to a Mind rightly cultivated, altoge⯑ther to be contemned, or rather to be deſired. As I met him at the Door, I ſaw in his Face a certain Glowing of G ief and Humanity, heigh⯑ten'd with an Air of Fortitude and Reſolution, which, as I afterwards found, had ſuch an irre⯑ſiſtible [385] Force, as to ſuſpend the Pains of the Dy⯑ing, and the Lamentation of the neareſt Friends who attended her. I went up directly to the Room where ſhe lay, and was met at the En⯑trance by my Friend, who, notwithſtanding his Thoughts had been compoſed a little before at the Sight of me, turned away his Face and wept. The little Family of Children renewed the Ex⯑preſſions of their Sorrow according to their ſe⯑veral Ages and Degrees of Underſtanding. The eldeſt Daughter was in Tears, buſied in Atten⯑dance upon her Mother; others were kneeling about the Bed-ſide: And what troubled me moſt was, to ſee a little Boy, who was too young to know the Reaſon, weeping only becauſe his Si⯑ſters did. The only one in the Room who ſeem⯑ed reſigned and comforted, was the dying Per⯑ſon. At my Approach to the Bed-ſide, ſhe told me, with a low broken Voice, This is kindly done—Take Care of your Friend—Don't go from him. She had before taken Leave of her Husband and Children, in a Manner proper for ſo ſolemn a Parting, and with a Gracefulneſs peculiar to a Woman of her Character. My Heart was torn in Pieces to ſee the Husband on one Side ſuppreſſing and keeping down the Swellings of his Grief, for Fear of diſturbing her in her laſt Moments; and the Wife even at that Time concealing the Pains ſhe endured, for Fear of encreaſing his Affliction. She kept her Eyes upon him for ſome Moments after ſhe grew ſpeechleſs, and ſoon after cloſed them for ever. In the Moment of her Departure, my Friend (who had thus far commanded himſelf) gave a deep Groan, and fell into a Swoon by her Bed⯑ſide. The Diſtraction of the Children, who thought they ſaw both their Parents expiring to⯑gether, and now lying dead before them, would have melted the hardeſt Heart; but they ſoon perceived their Father recover, whom I helped [386] to remove into another Room, with a Reſolution to accompany him till the firſt Pangs of his Af⯑fliction were abated. I knew Conſolation would now be impertinent; and therefore contented my ſelf to ſit by him, and condole with him in Si⯑lence. For I ſhall here uſe the Method of an ancient Author, who in one of his Epiſtles rela⯑ting the Virtues and Death of Macrinus's Wife, expreſſes himſelf thus; ‘"I ſhall ſuſpend my Ad⯑vice to this beſt of Friends, till he is made capa⯑ble of receiving it by thoſe Three great Reme⯑dies, (Neceſſitas ipſa, Dies longa, & Satietas Do⯑loris) The Neceſſity of Submiſſion, Length of Time, and Satiety of Grief.'’

In the mean Time, I cannot but conſider with much Commiſeration, the melancholy State of one who has had ſuch a Part of himſelf torn from him, and which he miſſes in every Cir⯑cumſtance of Life. His Condition is like that of one who has lately loſt his Right Arm, and is every Moment offering to help himſelf with it. He does not appear to himſelf the ſame Per⯑ſon in his Houſe, at his Table, in Company, or in Retirement; and loſes the Reliſh of all the Pleaſures and Diverſious that were before enter⯑taining to him by her Participation of them. The moſt agreeable Objects recall the Sorrow for her with whom he uſed to enjoy them. This ad⯑ditional Satisfaction, from the Taſt of Pleaſures in the Society of one we love, is admirably de⯑ſcribed in Milton, who repreſents Eve, though in Paradiſe it ſelf, no further pleaſed with the beau⯑tiful Objects around her, than as ſhe ſees them in Company with Adam, in that Paſſage ſo inex⯑preſſibly charming.

The Variety of Images in this Paſſage is in⯑finitely pleaſing, and the Recapitulation of each particular Image, with a little varying of the Ex⯑preſſion, makes one of the fineſt Turns of Words that I have ever ſeen: Which I rather mention, becauſe Mr. Dryden has ſaid in his Preface to Ju⯑venal, That he could meet with no Turn of Words in Milton.

It may further be obſerved, That though the Sweetneſs of theſe Verſes has ſomething in it of a Paſtoral, yet it excels the ordinary Kind, as much as the Scene of it is above an ordinary Field or Meadow. I might here, ſince I am ac⯑cidentally led into this Subject, ſhow ſeveral Paſ⯑ſages in Milton that have as excellent Turns of this Nature, as any of our Engliſh Poets whatſo⯑ever; but ſhall only mention that which follows, in which he deſcribes the Fallen Angels engaged in the intricate Diſputes of Predeſtination, Free⯑will, and Fore-knowledge; and to humour the Perplexity, makes a Kind of Labyrinth in the very Words that deſcribe it.