Chapter XCII: Letter I: found that Will was fallen off from his former Gayety, having (1)

changed _Dear Spec_. which was his usual Salute at the Beginning of the Letter, into _My Worthy Friend_, and subscribed himself in the latter End of it at full length _William Honeycomb_. In short, the gay, the loud, the vain _Will Honeycomb_, who had made Love to every great Fortune that has appeared in Town for [above [2]] thirty Years together, and boasted of Favours from Ladies whom he had never seen, is at length wedded to a plain Country Girl.

His Letter gives us the Picture of a converted Rake. The sober Character of the Husband is dashed with the Man of the Town, and enlivened with those little Cant-phrases which have made my Friend _Will_ often thought very pretty Company. But let us hear what he says for himself.

_My Worthy Friend_,

I question not but you, and the rest of my Acquaintance, wonder that
I, who have lived in the Smoak and Gallantries of the Town for thirty
Years together, should all on a sudden grow fond of a Country Life.
Had not my Dog [of a [3]] Steward run away as he did, without making
up his Accounts, I had still been immersed in Sin and Sea-Coal. But
since my late forced Visit to my Estate, I am so pleased with it, that
I am resolved to live and die upon it. I am every Day abroad among my
Acres, and can scarce forbear filling my Letter with Breezes, Shades,
Flowers, Meadows, and purling Streams. The Simplicity of Manners,
which I have heard you so often speak of, and which appears here in
Perfection, charms me wonderfully. As an Instance of it, I must
acquaint you, and by your means the whole Club, that I have lately
married one of my Tenants Daughters. She is born of honest Parents,
and though she has no Portion, she has a great deal of Virtue. The
natural Sweetness and Innocence of her Behaviour, the Freshness of her
Complection, the unaffected Turn of her Shape and Person, shot me
through and through every time I saw her, and did more Execution upon
me in Grogram, than the greatest Beauty in Town or Court had ever done
in Brocade. In short, she is such an one as promises me a good Heir to
my Estate; and if by her means I cannot leave to my Children what are
falsely called the Gifts of Birth; high Titles and Alliances: I hope
to convey to them the more real and valuable Gifts of Birth; strong
Bodies, and Healthy Constitutions. As for your fine Women, I need not
tell thee that I know them. I have had my share in their Graces, but
no more of that. It shall be my Business hereafter to live the Life of
an honest Man, and to act as becomes the Master of a Family. I
question not but I shall draw upon me the Raillery of the Town, and be
treated to the Tune of the _Marriage-Hater match'd_; but I am prepared
for it. I have been as witty upon others in my time. To tell thee
truly, I saw such a Tribe of Fashionable young fluttering Coxcombs
shot up, that I did not think my Post of an _homme de ruelle_ any
longer tenable. I felt a certain Stiffness in my Limbs, which entirely
destroyed that Jauntyness of Air I was once Master of. Besides, for I
may now confess my Age to thee, I have been eight and forty above
these Twelve Years. Since my Retirement into the Country will make a
Vacancy in the Club, I could wish you would fill up my Place with my
Friend _Tom Dapperwit_. He has an infinite deal of Fire, and knows the
Town. For my own part, as I have said before, I shall endeavour to
live hereafter suitable to a Man in my Station, as a prudent Head of a
Family, a good Husband, a careful Father (when it shall so happen) and
as

_Your most Sincere Friend,
and Humble Servant_,

WILLIAM HONEYCOMB.

O.

[Footnote 1: Heartwell in the play of the _Old Batchelor_. Addison here continues the winding up of the _Spectator_ by finally disposing of another member of the club.]

[Footnote 2: [about]]

[Footnote 3: [the]]

* * * * *

No. 531. Saturday, November 8. 1712. Addison.

'Qui mare et terras variisque mundum
Temperat horis:
Unde nil majus generatur ipso,
Nec viget quicquam simile aut secundum.'

Hor.

Simonides being ask'd by _Dionysius_ the Tyrant what God was, desired a Day's time to consider of it before he made his Reply. When the Day was expired, he desired two Days; and afterwards, instead of returning his Answer, demanded still double the Time to consider of it. This great Poet and Philosopher, the more he contemplated the Nature of the Deity, found that he waded but the more out of his Depth; and that he lost himself in the Thought, instead of finding an End of it. [1]

If we consider the Idea which wise Men, by the Light of Reason, have framed of the Divine Being, it amounts to this: That he has in him all the Perfection of a Spiritual Nature; and since we have no Notion of any kind of spiritual Perfection but what we discover in our own Souls, we joyn Infinitude to each kind of these Perfections, and what is a Faculty in an human Soul becomes an Attribute in God. _We_ exist in Place and Time, the Divine Being fills the Immensity of Space with his Presence, and Inhabits Eternity. _We_ are possessed of a little Power and a little Knowledge, the Divine Being is Almighty and Omniscient. In short, by adding Infinity to any kind of Perfection we enjoy, and by joyning all these different kinds of Perfections in one Being, we form our Idea of the great Sovereign of Nature.

Though every one who thinks must have made this Observation, I shall produce Mr. _Locke's_ Authority to the same purpose, out of his Essay on Human Understanding.

'If we examine the _Idea_ we have of the incomprehensible Supreme
Being, we shall find, that we come by it the same way; and that the
complex _Ideas_ we have both of God and separate Spirits, are made up
of the simple _Ideas_ we receive from _Reflection: v. g._ having from
what we experiment in our selves, got the _Ideas_ of Existence and
Duration, of Knowledge and Power, of Pleasure and Happiness, and of
several other Qualities and Powers, which it is better to have, than
to be without; when we would frame an _Idea_ the most suitable we can
to the Supreme Being, we enlarge every one of these with our _Idea_ of
Infinity; and so putting them together, make our Complex _Idea of
God_.' [2]

It is not impossible that there may be many kinds of Spiritual Perfection, besides those which are lodged in an human Soul; but it is impossible that we should have Ideas of any kinds of Perfection, except those of which we have some small Rays and short imperfect Strokes in our selves. It would be therefore a very high Presumption to determine whether the Supream Being has not many more Attributes than those which enter into our Conceptions of him. This is certain, that if there be any kind of Spiritual Perfection which is not marked out in an human Soul, it belongs in its Fulness to the Divine Nature.

Several eminent Philosophers have imagined that the Soul, in her separate State, may have new Faculties springing up in her, which she is not capable of exerting during her present Union with the Body; and whether these Faculties may not correspond with other Attributes in the Divine Nature, and open to us hereafter new Matter of Wonder and Adoration, we are altogether ignorant. This, as I have said before, we ought to acquiesce in, that the Sovereign Being, the great Author of Nature, has in him all possible Perfection, as well in _Kind_ as in _Degree_; to speak according to our Methods of [conceiving. [3]] I shall only add under this Head, that when we have raised our Notion of this Infinite Being as high as it is possible for the Mind of Man to go, it will fall infinitely short of what He really is. _There is no end of his Greatness_: The most exalted Creature he has made, is only capable of adoring it, none but himself can comprehend it.

The Advice of the Son of _Sirach_ is very just and sublime in this Light.

'By his Word all things consist. We may speak much, and yet come
short: wherefore in sum, he is all. How shall we be able to magnify
him? For he is great above all his Works. The Lord is terrible and
very great; and marvellous in his Power. When you glorify the Lord,
exalt him as much as you can; for even yet will he far exceed. And
when you exalt him, put forth all your strength, and be not weary; for
you can never go far enough. Who hath seen him, that he might tell us?
And who can magnify him as he is? There are yet hid greater things
than these be, for we have seen but a few of his Works.' [4]

I have here only considered the Supreme Being by the Light of Reason and Philosophy. If we would see him in all the Wonders of his Mercy we must have recourse to Revelation, which represents him to us, not only as infinitely Great and Glorious, but as infinitely Good and Just in his Dispensations towards Man. But as this is a Theory which falls under every one's Consideration, tho' indeed it can never be sufficiently considered, I shall here only take notice of that habitual Worship and Veneration which we ought to pay to this Almighty Being. We should often refresh our Minds with the Thought of him, and annihilate our selves before him, in the Contemplation of our own Worthlessness, and of his transcendent Excellency and Perfection. This would imprint in our Minds such a constant and uninterrupted Awe and Veneration as that which I am here recommending, and which is in reality a kind of incessant Prayer, and reasonable Humiliation of the Soul before him who made it.

This would effectually kill in us all the little Seeds of Pride, Vanity and Self-conceit, which are apt to shoot up in the Minds of such whose Thoughts turn more on those comparative Advantages which they enjoy over some of their Fellow-Creatures, than on that infinite Distance which is placed between them and the Supreme Model of all Perfection. It would likewise quicken our Desires and Endeavours of uniting our selves to him by all the Acts of Religion and Virtue.

Such an habitual Homage to the Supreme Being would, in a particular manner, banish from among us that prevailing Impiety of using his Name on the most trivial Occasions.

I find the following Passage in an excellent Sermon, preached at the Funeral of a Gentleman who was an Honour to his Country, and a more diligent as well as successful Enquirer into the Works of Nature, than any other our Nation has ever produced. [5]

'He had the profoundest Veneration for the Great God of Heaven and
Earth that I have ever observed in any Person. The very Name of God
was never mentioned by him without a Pause and a visible Stop in his
Discourse; in which, one that knew him most particularly above twenty
Years, has told me, that he was so exact, that he does not remember to
have observed him once to fail in it.'

Every one knows the Veneration which was paid by the _Jews_ to a Name so great, wonderful and holy. They would not let it enter even into their religious Discourses. What can we then think of those who make use of so tremendous a Name in the ordinary Expressions of their Anger, Mirth, and most impertinent Passions? Of those who admit it into the most familiar Questions and Assertions, ludicrous Phrases and Works of Humour? not to mention those who violate it by solemn Perjuries? It would be an Affront to Reason to endeavour to set forth the Horror and Prophaneness of such a Practice. The very mention of it exposes it sufficiently to those in whom the Light of Nature, not to say Religion, is not utterly extinguished.

O.

[Footnote 1: This story is taken from Book I. of Cicero 'De Naturâ Deorum'.]

[Footnote 2: 'Human Understanding', Book II. ch. xxiii. § 33.]

[Footnote 3: [conceiving him.]]

[Footnote 4: Ecclus. xliii. 26-32.]

[Footnote 5: Bishop Burnet's sermon at the funeral of the Hon. Robert Boyle (who died in 1691).]

* * * * *

No. 532. Monday, November 10, 1712. Steele.

'--Fungor vice cotis, acutum
Reddere quæ ferrum valet, exsors ipsa secandi.'

Hor.

It is a very honest Action to be studious to produce other Men's Merit; and I make no scruple of saying I have as much of this Temper as any Man in the World. It would not be a thing to be bragged of, but that it is what any Man may be Master of who will take Pains enough for it. Much Observation of the Unworthiness in being pained at the Excellence of another, will bring you to a Scorn of yourself for that Unwillingness: And when you have got so far, you will find it a greater Pleasure than you ever before knew, to be zealous in promoting the Fame and Welfare of the Praise-worthy. I do not speak this as pretending to be a mortified self-denying Man, but as one who has turned his Ambition into a right Channel. I claim to my self the Merit of having extorted excellent Productions from a Person of the greatest Abilities, [1] who would not have let them appear by any other Means; to have animated a few young Gentlemen into worthy Pursuits, who will be a Glory to our Age; and at all Times, and by all possible Means in my Power, undermined the Interests of Ignorance, Vice, and Folly, and attempted to substitute in their Stead, Learning, Piety, and good Sense. It is from this honest Heart that I find myself honoured as a Gentleman-Usher to the Arts and Sciences. Mr. _Tickell_ and Mr. _Pope_ have, it seems, this Idea of me. The former has writ me an excellent Paper of Verses in Praise, forsooth, of my self; and the other enclosed for my perusal an admirable Poem, [2] which, I hope, will shortly see the Light. In the mean time I cannot suppress any Thought of his, but insert his Sentiment about the dying Words of _Adrian_. I won't determine in the Case he mentions; but have thus much to say in favour of his Argument, that many of his own Works which I have seen, convince me that very pretty and very sublime Sentiments may be lodged in the same Bosom without diminution to its Greatness.

_Mr._ SPECTATOR,

'I was the other day in Company with five or six Men of some Learning;
where chancing to mention the famous Verses which the Emperor _Adrian_
spoke on his Death-bed, they were all agreed that 'twas a Piece of
Gayety unworthy that Prince in those Circumstances. I could not but
dissent from this Opinion: Methinks it was by no means a gay, but a
very serious Soliloquy to his Soul at the Point of his Departure: in
which Sense I naturally took the Verses at my first reading them when
I was very young, and before I knew what Interpretation the World
generally put upon them:

'_Animula vagula, blandula,
Hospes Comesque corporis,
Quæ nunc abibis in loca?
Pallidula, rigida, nudula,
Nec (ut soles) dabis Joca!_

'_Alas, my Soul! thou pleasing Companion of this Body, thou fleeting
thing that art now deserting it! whither art thou flying? to what
unknown Region? Thou art all trembling, fearful, and pensive. Now
what is become of thy former Wit and Humour? thou shall jest and be
gay no more._

I confess I cannot apprehend where lies the Trifling in all this; 'tis
the most natural and obvious Reflection imaginable to a dying Man: and
if we consider the Emperor was a Heathen, that Doubt concerning the
Future Fate of his Soul will seem so far from being the Effect of Want
of Thought, that 'twas scarce reasonable he should think otherwise;
not to mention that here is a plain Confession included of his Belief
in its Immortality. The diminutive Epithets of _Vagula, Blandula_, and
the rest, appear not to me as Expressions of Levity, but rather of
Endearment and Concern; such as we find in _Catullus_, and the Authors
of _Hendeca-syllabi_ after him, where they are used to express the
utmost Love and Tenderness for their Mistresses--If you think me right
in my Notion of the last Words of _Adrian_, be pleased to insert this
in the _Spectator_; if not, to suppress it.' [3]

_I am_, &c.

To the supposed Author of the 'Spectator'.

'In Courts licentious, and a shameless Stage,
How long the War shall Wit with Virtue wage?
Enchanted by this prostituted Fair,
Our Youth run headlong in the fatal Snare;
In height of Rapture clasp unheeded Pains,
And suck Pollution thro' their tingling Veins.

Thy spotless Thoughts unshock'd the Priest may hear,
And the pure Vestal in her Bosom wear.
To conscious Blushes and diminish'd Pride,
Thy Glass betrays what treach'rous Love would hide;
Nor harsh thy Precepts, but infused by stealth,
Please while they cure, and cheat us into Health.

Thy Works in_ Chloe's _Toilet gain a part,
And with his Tailor share the the Fopling's Heart:
Lash'd in thy Satire, the penurious Cit
Laughs at himself, and finds no harm in Wit:
From Felon Gamesters the raw Squire is free,
And _Britain_ owes her rescu'd Oaks to thee.

His Miss the frolick Viscount dreads to toast,
Or his third Cure the shallow Templar boast;
And the rash Fool who scorn'd the beaten Road,
Dares quake at Thunder, and confess his God.

The brainless Stripling,--who, expell'd to Town,
Damn'd the stiff College and pedantick Gown,
Aw'd by thy Name, is dumb, and thrice a Week
Spells uncouth _Latin,_ and pretends to _Greek._

A sauntring Tribe! such born to wide Estates,
With Yea and No in Senates hold Debates:
At length despis'd, each to his Fields retires,
First with the Dogs, and King amidst the Squires;
From Pert to Stupid sinks supinely down,
In Youth a Coxcomb, and in Age a Clown.

Such Readers scorned, thou wings't thy daring Flight
Above the Stars, and tread'st the Fields of Light;
Fame, Heav'n and Hell, are thy exalted Theme,
And Visions such as _Jove_ himself might dream;
Man sunk to Slav'ry, tho' to Glory born,
Heaven's Pride when upright, and depraved his Scorn.

Such Hints alone could _British Virgil_ lend,
And thou alone deserve from such a Friend:
A Debt so borrow'd, is illustrious Shame,
And Fame when shar'd with him is double Fame.
So flush'd with Sweets, by Beauty's Queen bestow'd,
With more than mortal Charms. _Æneas_ glow'd.
Such genrous Strifes _Eugene_ and _Marlbro'_ try,
And as in Glory, so in Friendship vie.

Permit these Lines by Thee to live--nor blame
A Muse that pants and languishes for Fame;
That fears to sink when humbler Themes she sings,
Lost in the Mass of mean forgotten things.
Receiv'd by Thee, I prophesy my Rhymes
The Praise of Virgins in succeeding Times:
Mix'd with thy Works, their Life no Bounds shall see,
But stand protected, as inspir'd by thee.

So some weak Shoot, which else would poorly rise,
_Jove's_ Tree adopts, and lifts him to the Skies;
Through the new Pupil fost'ring Juices flow,
Thrust forth the Gems, and give the Flow'rs to blow
Aloft; immortal reigns the Plant unknown,
With borrow'd Life, and Vigour not his own.' [4]

_To the_ SPECTATOR-GENERAL.

_Mr._ John Sly _humbly sheweth,_

'That upon reading the Deputation given to the said Mr. _John Sly_,
all Persons passing by his Observatory behaved themselves with the
same Decorum, as if your Honour your self had been present.

That your said Officer is preparing, according to your Honour's secret
Instructions, Hats for the several kind of Heads that make Figures in
the Realms of _Great Britain_, with Cocks significant of their Powers
and Faculties.

That your said Officer has taken due Notice of your Instructions and
Admonitions concerning the Internals of the Head from the outward Form
of the same. His Hats for Men of the Faculties of Law and Physick do
but just turn up, to give a little Life to their Sagacity; his
military Hats glare full in the Face; and he has prepared a familiar
easy Cock for all good Companions between the above-mentioned
Extreams. For this End he has consulted the most Learned of his
Acquaintance for the true Form and Dimensions of the _Lepidum Caput_,
and made a Hat fit for it.

Your said Officer does further represent, That the young Divines about
Town are many of them got into the Cock Military, and desires your
Instructions therein.

That the Town has been for several Days very well behaved; and further
your said Officer saith not.

T.

[Footnote 1: Addison.]

[Footnote 2: The Temple of Fame.]

[Footnote 3: Pope republished this in his 'Letters' in 1735, adding a metrical translation of Adrian's lines:

Ah, fleeting spirit! wandering fire,
That long hast warm'd my tender breast,
Must thou no more this frame inspire?
No more a pleasing, cheerful guest?
Whither, ah, whither art thou flying,
To what dark, undiscovered shore?
Thou seem'st all trembling, shivering, dying,
And wit and humour are no more.

Two days after the insertion of this letter from Pope, Steele wrote to the young poet (Nov. 12):

'I have read over your "Temple of Fame" twice; and cannot find
anything amiss of weight enough to call a fault, but see in it a
thousand thousand beauties. Mr. Addison shall see it to-morrow: after
his perusal of it I will let you know his thoughts. I desire you would
let me know whether you are at leisure or not? I have a design which I
shall open a month or two hence, with the assistance of a few like
yourself. If your thoughts are unengaged I shall explain myself
further.'

This design was the _Guardian_, which Steele was about to establish as the successor to the _Spectator_; and here we find him at work on the foundations of his new journal while the finishing strokes are being given to the _Spectator_. Pope in his reply to Steele said (Nov. 16):

'I shall be very ready and glad to contribute to any design that tends
to the advantage of mankind, which, I am sure, all yours do. I wish I
had but as much capacity as leisure, for I am perfectly idle (a sign I
have not much capacity). If you will entertain the best opinion of me,
be pleased to think me your friend. Assure Mr. Addison of my most
faithful service; of every one's esteem he must be assured already.'

About a fortnight later, returning to the subject of Adrian's verses, Pope wrote to Steele in reply to subsequent private discussion of the subject (Nov. 29):

'I am sorry you published that notion about Adrian's verses as mine;
had I imagined you would use my name, I should have expressed my
sentiments with more modesty and diffidence. I only wrote to have your
opinion, and not to publish my own, which I distrusted.'

Then after defending his view of the poem, and commenting upon the Latin diminutives, he adds,

'perhaps I should be much better pleased if I were told you called me
"your little friend," than if you complimented me with the title of "a
great genius," or "an eminent hand," as Jacob [Tonson] does all his
authors.'

Steele's genial reply produced from Pope, as final result of the above letter to the _Spectator_, one of the most popular of his short pieces. Steele wrote (Dec. 4):

'This is to desire of you that you would please to make an ode as of a
cheerful dying spirit; that is to say, the Emperor Adrian's "_animula
vagula_," put into two or three stanzas for music. If you will comply
with this, and send me word so, you will very particularly oblige
RICHARD STEELE.'

This was written two days before the appearance of the last number of his _Spectator_. Pope answered,

'I do not send you word I will do, but have already done the thing you
desire of me,'

and sent his poem of three stanzas, called THE DYING CHRISTIAN TO HIS SOUL.

'Vital spark of heavenly flame,' &c.

These two letters were published by Warburton, but are not given by Pope in the edition of his correspondence, published in 1737, and the poem has no place in the collected works of 1717. It has been said that if the piece had been written in 1712 Steele would have inserted it in the _Spectator_. But it was not received until the last number of the _Spectator_ had been published. Three months then elapsed before the appearance of the _Guardian_, to which Pope contributed eight papers. Pope, on his part, would be naturally unwilling to connect with the poem the few words he had sent with it to Steele, saying,

'You have it (as Cowley calls it) just warm from the brain. It came to
me the first moment I waked this morning. Yet, you will see, it was
not so absolutely inspiration, but that I had in my head not only the
verses of Adrian, but the fine fragment of Sappho, &c.'

The &c. being short for Thomas Flatman, whose name would not have stood well by that of Sappho, though he was an accomplished man in his day, who gave up law for poetry and painting, and died in 1688, one of the best miniature painters of his time, and the author of 'Songs and Poems,' published in 1674, which in ten years went through three editions. Flatman had written:

'_When on my sick-bed I languish,
Full of sorrow, full of anguish,
Fainting, gasping, trembling, crying,
Panting, groaning, speechless, dying;
Methinks I hear some gentle spirit say,
"Be not fearful, come away_!"']

[Footnote 4: From Thomas Tickell.]

* * * * *

No. 533. Tuesday, November 11, 1712. Steele.

'Immo duas dabo, inquit ille, una si parum est:
Et si duarum pænitebit, addentur duæ.'

Plaut.

_To the_ SPECTATOR.

_SIR,_

'You have often given us very excellent Discourses against that
unnatural Custom of Parents, in forcing their Children to marry
contrary to their Inclinations. My own Case, without further Preface,
I will lay before you, and leave you to judge of it. My Father and
Mother both being in declining Years, would fain see me, their eldest
Son, as they call it settled. I am as much for that as they can be;
but I must be settled, it seems, not according to my own, but their
liking. Upon this account I am teaz'd every Day, because I have not
yet fallen in love, in spite of Nature, with one of a neighbouring
Gentleman's Daughters; for out of their abundant Generosity, they give
me the choice of four. _Jack_, begins my Father, Mrs. _Catherine_ is a
fine Woman--Yes, Sir, but she is rather too old--She will make the
more discreet Manager, Boy. Then my Mother plays her part. Is not Mrs.
_Betty_ exceeding fair? Yes, Madam, but she is of no Conversation; she
has no Fire, no agreeable Vivacity; she neither speaks nor looks with
Spirit. True, Son; but for those very Reasons, she will be an easy,
soft, obliging, tractable Creature. After all, cries an old Aunt, (who
belongs to the Class of those who read Plays with Spectacles on) what
think you, Nephew, of proper Mrs. _Dorothy_? What do I think? why I
think she cannot be above six foot two inches high. Well, well, you
may banter as long as you please, but Height of Stature is commanding
and majestick. Come, come, says a Cousin of mine in the Family, I'll
fit him; _Fidelia_ is yet behind--Pretty Miss _Fiddy_ must please
you--Oh! your very humble Servant, dear Cos. she is as much too young
as her eldest Sister is too old. Is it so indeed, quoth she, good Mr.
_Pert_? You who are but barely turned of twenty two, and Miss Fiddy in
half a Year's time will be in her Teens, and she is capable of
learning any thing. Then she will be so observant; she'll cry perhaps
now and then, but never be angry. Thus they will think for me in this
matter, wherein I am more particularly concerned than any Body else.
If I name any Woman in the World, one of these Daughters has certainly
the same Qualities. You see by these few Hints, _Mr._ SPECTATOR, what
a comfortable Life I lead. To be still more open and free with you, I
have been passionately fond of a young Lady (whom give me leave to
call _Miranda_) now for these three Years. I have often urged the
Matter home to my Parents with all the Submission of a Son, but the
Impatience of a Lover. Pray, Sir, think of three Years; what
inexpressible Scenes of Inquietude, what Variety of Misery must I have
gone thro' in three long whole Years? _Miranda's_ Fortune is equal to
those I have mention'd; but her Relations are not Intimates with mine.
Ah! there's the Rub. _Miranda's_ Person, Wit, and Humour, are what the
nicest Fancy could imagine; and though we know you to be so elegant a
Judge of Beauty, yet there is none among all your various Characters
of fine Women preferable to _Miranda_. In a Word, she is never guilty
of doing any thing but one amiss, (if she can be thought to do amiss
by me) in being as blind to my Faults, as she is to her own
Perfections.

_I am, SIR,
Your very humble obedient Servant,_
Dustererastus.

_Mr._ SPECTATOR,

'When you spent so much time as you did lately in censuring the
ambitious young Gentlemen who ride in Triumph through Town and Country
in Coach-boxes, I wished you had employed those Moments in
consideration of what passes sometimes within-side of those Vehicles.
I am sure I suffered sufficiently by the Insolence and Ill-breeding of
some Persons who travelled lately with me in a Stage-Coach out of
_Essex_ to _London_. I am sure, when you have heard what I have to
say, you will think there are Persons under the Character of Gentlemen
that are fit to be no where else but in the Coach-box. Sir, I am a
young Woman of a sober and religious Education, and have preserved
that Character; but on Monday was Fortnight it was my Misfortune to
come to _London_. I was no sooner clapt in the Coach, but to my great
Surprize, two Persons in the Habit of Gentlemen attack'd me with such
indecent Discourse as I cannot repeat to you, so you may conclude not
fit for me to hear. I had no relief but the Hopes of a speedy End of
my short Journey. Sir, form to your self what a Persecution this must
needs be to a virtuous and a chaste Mind; and in order to your proper
handling such a Subject, fancy your Wife or Daughter, if you had any,
in such Circumstances, and what Treatment you would think then due to
such Dragoons. One of them was called a Captain, and entertained us
with nothing but silly stupid Questions, or lewd Songs, all the way.
Ready to burst with Shame and Indignation, I repined that Nature had
not allowed us as easily to shut our Ears as our Eyes. But was not
this a kind of Rape? Why should there be Accessaries in Ravishment any
more than Murder? Why should not every Contributor to the Abuse of
Chastity suffer Death? I am sure these shameless Hell-hounds deserved
it highly. Can you exert your self better than on such an Occasion? If
you do not do it effectually, I 'll read no more of your Papers. Has
every impertinent Fellow a Privilege to torment me, who pay my
Coach-hire as well as he? Sir, pray consider us in this respect as the
weakest Sex, and have nothing to defend our selves; and I think it as
Gentleman-like to challenge a Woman to fight, as to talk obscenely in
her Company, especially when she has not power to stir. Pray let me
tell you a Story which you can make fit for publick View. I knew a
Gentleman, who having a very good Opinion of the Gentlemen of the
Army, invited ten or twelve of them to sup with him; and at the same
time invited two or three Friends, who were very severe against the
Manners and Morals of Gentlemen of that Profession. It happened one of
them brought two Captains of his Regiment newly come into the Army,
who at first Onset engaged the Company with very lewd Healths and
suitable Discourse. You may easily imagine the Confusion of the
Entertainer, who finding some of his Friends very uneasy, desired to
tell them a Story of a great Man, one Mr, _Locke_ (whom I find you
frequently mention) that being invited to dine with the then Lords
_Hallifax, Anglesey_, and _Shaftsbury_; immediately after Dinner,
instead of Conversation, the Cards were called for, where the bad or
good Success produced the usual Passions of Gaming. Mr. _Locke_
retiring to a Window, and writing, my Lord _Anglesey_ desired to know
what he was writing: _Why, my Lords_, answered he, _I could not sleep
last Night for the Pleasure and Improvement I expected from the
Conversation of the greatest Men of the Age_. This so sensibly stung
them, that they gladly compounded to throw their Cards in the Fire if
he would his Paper, and so a Conversation ensued fit for such Persons.
This Story prest so hard upon the young Captains, together with the
Concurrence of their superior Officers, that the young Fellows left
the Company in Confusion. Sir, I know you hate long things; but if you
like it, you may contract it, or how you will; but I think it has a
Moral in it.

But, Sir, I am told you are a famous Mechanick as well as a Looker-on,
and therefore humbly propose you would invent some Padlock, with full
Power under your Hand and Seal, for all modest Persons, either Men or
Women, to clap upon the Mouths of all such impertinent impudent
Fellows: And I wish you would publish a Proclamation, that no modest
Person who has a Value for her Countenance, and consequently would not
be put out of it, presume to travel after such a Day without one of
them in their Pockets. I fancy a smart _Spectator_ upon this Subject
would serve for such a Padlock; and that publick Notice may be given
in your Paper where they may be had with Directions, Price 2_d_. and
that part of the Directions may be, when any Person presumes to be
guilty of the above-mentioned Crime, the Party aggrieved may produce
it to his Face, with a Request to read it to the Company. He must be
very much hardened that could outface that Rebuke; and his further
Punishment I leave you to prescribe.

_Your humble Servant_,
Penance Cruel.

T. [1]

[Footnote 1: To this number is appended the advertisement:

This Day is Published,

a very neat Pocket Edition of the 3rd and 4th Volumes of the Spectator
in 12°. To which is added a compleat Index to the whole 4 volumes.
Printed for S. Buckley at the Dolphin in Little Britain and J. Tonson
at Shakespear's Head over against Catherine Street in the Strand.]

* * * * *

No. 534. Wednesday, November 12, 1712. Steele.

'--Rarus enim fermè sensus communis in illa
Fortunâ--'

Juv.

_Mr_. SPECTATOR,

'I am a young Woman of Nineteen, the only Daughter of very wealthy
Parents; and have my whole Life been used with a Tenderness which did
me no great Service in my Education. I have perhaps an uncommon Desire
for Knowledge of what is suitable to my Sex and Quality; but as far as
I can remember, the whole Dispute about me has been, whether such a
thing was proper for the Child to do, or not? Or whether such or such
Food was the more wholsome for the young Lady to eat? This was ill for
my Shape, that for my Complexion, and t'other for my Eyes. I am not
extravagant when I tell you, I do not know that I have trod upon the
very Earth since I was ten Years old: A Coach or Chair I am obliged to
for all my Motions from one Place to another ever since I can
remember. All who had to do to instruct me, have ever been bringing
Stories of the notable things I have said and the Womanly manner of my
behaving my self upon such and such an Occasion. This has been my
State, till I came towards Years of Womanhood; and ever since I grew
towards the Age of Fifteen, I have been abused after another Manner.
Now, forsooth, I am so killing, no one can safely speak to me. Our
House is frequented by Men of Sense, and I love to ask Questions when
I fall into such Conversation; but I am cut short with something or
other about my bright Eyes. There is, Sir, a Language particular for
talking to Women in; and none but those of the very first good
Breeding (who are very few, and who seldom come into my way) can speak
to us without regard to our Sex. Among the generality of those they
call Gentlemen, it is impossible for me to speak upon any subject
whatsoever, without provoking somebody to say, _Oh! to be sure fine
Mrs. such-a-one must be very particularly acquainted with all that;
all the World will contribute to her Entertainment and Information_.
Thus, Sir, I am so handsome, that I murder all who approach me; so
wise, that I want no new Notices; and so well bred, that I am treated
by all that know me like a Fool, for no one will answer as if I were
their Friend or Companion. Pray, Sir, be pleased to take the part of
us Beauties and Fortunes into your Consideration, and do not let us be
thus flattered out of our Senses. I have got an Hussey of a Maid, who
is most craftily given to this ill Quality. I was at first diverted
with a certain Absurdity the Creature was guilty of in every thing she
said: She is a Country Girl, and in the Dialect of the Shire she was
born in, would tell me that every body reckon'd her Lady had the
purest Red and White in the World: Then she would tell me, I was the
most like one _Sisly Dobson_ in their Town, who made the Miller make
away with himself, and walk afterwards in the Corn-Field where they
used to meet. With all this, this cunning Hussey can lay Letters in my
way, and put a Billet in my Gloves, and then stand in it she knows
nothing of it. I do not know, from my Birth to this Day, that I have
been ever treated by any one as I ought; and if it were not for a few
Books which I delight in, I should be at this Hour a Novice to all
common Sense. Would it not be worth your while to lay down Rules for
Behaviour in this Case, and tell People, that we Fair-ones expect
honest plain Answers as well as other People? Why must I, good Sir,
because I have a good Air, a fine Complexion, and am in the Bloom of
my Years, be mis-led in all my Actions? and have the Notions of Good
and Ill confounded in my Mind, for no other Offence, but because I
have the Advantages of Beauty and Fortune? Indeed, Sir, what with the
silly Homage which is paid to us by the sort of People I have above
spoken of, and the utter Negligence which others have for us, the
Conversation of us young Women of Condition is no other than what must
expose us to Ignorance and Vanity, if not Vice. All this is humbly
submitted to your Spectatorial Wisdom, by,

_SIR, Your humble Servant_,
Sharlot Wealthy.

Will's _Coffee-house_.

_Mr_. SPECTATOR,

'Pray, Sir, it will serve to fill up a Paper, if you put in this;
which is only to ask, whether that Copy of Verses, which is a
Paraphrase of _Isaiah_, in one of your Speculations, is not written by
Mr. _Pope_? Then you get on another Line, by putting in, with proper
Distances, as at the end of a Letter,

_I am, Sir,
Your humble Servant_,
Abraham Dapperwit.

Mr. Dapperwit,

I am glad to get another Line forward, by saying that excellent Piece is Mr. _Pope's_; and so, with proper Distances,

_I am, Sir, Your humble Servant_, S--r.

_Mr_. SPECTATOR,

I was a wealthy Grocer in the City, and as fortunate as diligent; but
I was a single Man, and you know there are Women. One in particular
came to my Shop, who I wished might, but was afraid never would, make
a Grocer's Wife. I thought, however, to take an effectual Way of
Courting, and sold to her at less Price than I bought, that I might
buy at less Price than I sold. She, you may be sure, often came, and
helped me to many Customers at the same Rate, fancying I was obliged
to her. You must needs think this was a good living Trade, and my
Riches must be vastly improved. In fine, I was nigh being declared
Bankrupt, when I declared my self her Lover, and she herself married.
I was just in a Condition to support my self, and am now in Hopes of
growing rich by losing my Customers.

_Yours_,

Jeremy Comfit.

_Mr_. SPECTATOR,

I am in the Condition of the Idol you was once pleased to mention, and
Bar-keeper of a Coffee-house. I believe it is needless to tell you the
Opportunities I must give, and the Importunities I suffer. But there
is one Gentleman who besieges me as close as the _French_ did
_Bouchain_. His Gravity makes him work cautious, and his regular
Approaches denote a good Engineer. You need not doubt of his Oratory,
as he is a Lawyer; and especially since he has had so little Use of it
at _Westminster_, he may spare the more for me.

What then can weak Woman do? I am willing to surrender, but he would
have it at Discretion, and I with Discretion. In the mean time, whilst
we parly, our several Interests are neglected. As his Siege grows
stronger, my Tea grows weaker; and while he pleads at my Bar, none
come to him for Counsel but _in Forma Pauperis_. Dear Mr. SPECTATOR,
advise him not to insist upon hard Articles, nor by his irregular
Desires contradict the well-meaning Lines of his Countenance. If we
were agreed we might settle to something, as soon as we could
determine where we should get most, by the Law, at the Coffee-house,
or at Westminster.

_Your humble Servant_,

Lucinda Parly.

_A Minuit from Mr_. John Sly.

The World is pretty regular for about forty Rod East, and ten West of
the Observatory of the said Mr. _Sly_; but he is credibly informed,
that when they are got beyond the Pass into the _Strand_, or those who
move City-ward are got within _Temple-Bar_, they are just as they were
before. It is there-fore humbly proposed that Moving-Centries may be
appointed all the busy Hours of the Day between the _Exchange_ and
_Westminster_, and report what passes to your Honour, or your
subordinate Officers, from Time to Time.

_Ordered_,

That Mr. _Sly_ name the said Officers, provided he will answer for their Principles and Morals.

T.

* * * * *

No. 535. Thursday, November 13, 1712. Addison.

'Spem longam reseces--'

Hor.

My Four Hundred and Seventy First Speculation turned upon the Subject of Hope in general. I design this Paper as a Speculation upon that vain and foolish Hope, which is misemployed on Temporal Objects, and produces many Sorrows and Calamities in human Life.

It is a Precept several times inculcated by _Horace_, that we should not entertain an Hope of any thing in Life which lies at a great Distance from us. The Shortness and Uncertainty of our Time here, makes such a kind of Hope unreasonable and absurd. The Grave lies unseen between us and the Object which we reach after: Where one Man lives to enjoy the Good he has in view, ten thousand are cut off in the Pursuit of it.

It happens likewise unluckily, that one Hope no sooner dies in us but another rises up in its stead. We are apt to fancy that we shall be happy and satisfied if we possess ourselves of such and such particular Enjoyments; but either by reason of their Emptiness, or the natural Inquietude of the Mind, we have no sooner gained one Point but we extend our Hopes to another. We still find new inviting Scenes and Landskips lying behind those which at a Distance terminated our View.

The natural Consequences of such Reflections are these; that we should take Care not to let our Hopes run out into too great a Length; that we should sufficiently weigh the Objects of our Hope, whether they be such as we may reasonably expect from them what we propose in their Fruition, and whether they are such as we are pretty sure of attaining, in case our Life extend itself so far. If we hope for things which are at too great a Distance from, us, it is possible that we may be intercepted by Death in our Progress towards them. If we hope for things of which we have not thoroughly considered the value, our Disappointment will be greater than our Pleasure in the Fruition of them. If we hope for what we are not likely to possess, we act and think in vain, and make Life a greater Dream and Shadow than it really is.

Many of the Miseries and Misfortunes of Life proceed from our Want of Consideration, in one or all of these Particulars. They are the Rocks on which the sanguine Tribe of Lovers daily split, and on which the Bankrupt, the Politician, the Alchymist and Projector are cast away in every Age. Men of warm Imaginations and towring Thoughts are apt to overlook the Goods of Fortune [which are [1]] near them, for something that glitters in the Sight at a distance; to neglect solid and substantial Happiness, for what is showy and superficial; and to contemn that Good which lies within their reach, for that which they are not capable of attaining. Hope calculates its Schemes for a long and durable Life; presses forward to imaginary Points of Bliss; and grasps at Impossibilities; and consequently very often ensnares Men into Beggary, Ruin and Dishonour.

What I have here said, may serve as a Moral to an _Arabian_ Fable, which I find translated into _French_ by Monsieur _Galland_. [2]

The Fable has in it such a wild, but natural Simplicity, that I question not but my Reader will be as much pleased with it as I have been, and that he will consider himself, if he reflects on the several Amusements of Hope which have sometimes passed in his Mind, as a near Relation to the _Persian_ Glass-Man.

_Alnaschar_, says the Fable, was a very idle Fellow, that never would
set his Hand to any Business during his Father's Life. When his Father
died, he left him to the value of an hundred Drachmas in _Persian_
Mony. _Alnaschar_, in order to make the best of it, laid it out in
Glasses, Bottles, and the finest Earthen Ware. These he piled up in a
large open Basket, and having made choice of a very little Shop,
placed the Basket at his Feet, and leaned his Back upon the Wall, in
Expectation of Customers. As he sat in this Posture with his Eyes upon
the Basket, he fell into a most amusing Train of Thought, and was
over-heard by one of his Neighbours, as he talked to himself in the
following manner: _This Basket_, says he, _cost me at the Wholesale
Merchant's an Hundred Drachmas, which is all I have in the World. I
shall quickly make two hundred of it, by selling it in Retail. These
two hundred_ _Drachmas will in a very little while rise to four
Hundred, which of course will amount in time to four Thousand. Four
Thousand Drachmas cannot fail of making Eight Thousand. As soon as by
this means I am Master of Ten Thousand, I will lay aside my Trade of a
Glass-Man, and turn Jeweller. I shall then deal in Diamonds, Pearls,
and all sorts of rich Stones. When I have got together as much Wealth
as I can well desire, I will make a Purchase of the finest House I can
find, with Lands, Slaves, Eunuchs and Horses. I shall then begin to
enjoy my self, and make a noise in the World. I will not, however,
stop there, but still continue my Traffick, till I have got together
an Hundred Thousand Drachmas. When I have thus made my self Master of
an hundred thousand Drachmas, I shall naturally set my self on the
foot of a Prince, and will demand the Grand _Visier's_ Daughter in
Marriage, after having represented to that Minister the Information
which I have received of the Beauty, Wit, Discretion, and other high
Qualities which his Daughter possesses. I will let him know at the
same time, that it is my Intention to make him a Present of a thousand
Pieces of Gold on our Marriage-Night. As soon as I have married the
Grand _Visier's_ Daughter, I'll buy her ten black Eunuchs, the
youngest and best that can be got for Mony. I must afterwards make my
Father-in-Law a Visit with a great Train and Equipage. And when I am
placed at his Right-hand, which he will do of course, if it be only to
Honour his Daughter, I will give him the thousand Pieces of Gold which
I promised him, and afterwards, to his great Surprize, will present
him another Purse of the same Value, with some short Speech; as,_ Sir,
you see I am a Man of my Word: I always give more than I promise.

_When I have brought the Princess to my House, I shall take particular
care to breed in her a due Respect for me, before I give the Reins to
Love and Dalliance. To this end I shall confine her to her own
Apartment, make her a short Visit, and talk but little to her. Her
Women will represent to me, that she is inconsolable by reason of my
Unkindness, and beg me with Tears to caress her, and let her sit down
by me; but I shall still remain inexorable, and will turn my Back upon
her all the first Night. Her Mother will then come and bring her
Daughter to me, as I am seated upon my Sofa. The Daughter, with Tears
in her Eyes, will fling herself at my Feet, and beg of me to receive
her into my Favour: Then will I, to imprint in her a thorough
Veneration for my Person, draw up my Legs and spurn her from me with
my Foot, in such a manner that she shall fall down several Paces from
the Sofa.

Alnaschar_ was entirely swallowed up in this Chimerical Vision, and
could not forbear acting with his Foot what he had in his Thoughts: So
that unluckily striking his Basket of brittle Ware, which was the
Foundation of all his Grandeur, he kicked his Glasses to a great
distance from him into the Street, and broke them into ten thousand
Pieces.

O.

[Footnote 1: [that lie]

[Footnote 2: Arabian Nights, translated by Antony Galland, who died 1715.]

* * * * *

No. 536. Friday, November 14, 1712. Addison.

'O veræ Phrygiæ neque enim Phryges!'

Virg.