to me for above twenty years together. When he was but fifty years old, he desired only that he might live to see his son settled in the world. I granted it. He then begged the same favour for his daughter, and afterward that he might see the education of a grandson. When all this was brought about, he puts up a petition, that he might live to finish a house he was building. In short, he is an unreasonable old cur, and never wants an excuse; I will hear no more of him.' Upon which he flung down the trap-door in a passion, and was resolved to give no more audiences that day." Notwithstanding the levity of this fable, the moral of it very well deserves our attention, and is the same with that which has been inculcated by Socrates and Plato, not to mention Juvenal and Persius, who have each of them made the finest satire in their whole works upon this subject. The vanity of men's wishes, which are the natural prayers of the mind, as well as many of those secret devotions which they offer to the Supreme Being, are sufficiently exposed by it. Among other reasons for set forms of prayer, I have often thought it a very good one, that by this means the folly and extravagance of men's desires may be kept within due bounds, and not break out in absurd and ridiculous petitions on so great and solemn an occasion.-I No. 392.] FRIDAY, MAY 30, 1712. Per ambages et ministeria deorum And claims the ministry of heavenly powers. tlemen were sent from court to study mathematics at the university. "I need not acquaint you, that I was very well made, and reckoned a bright polite gentleman. I was the confidant and darling of all the fair; and if the old and ugly spoke ill of me, all the world knew it was because I scorned to flatter them. No ball, no assembly, was attended until I had been consulted. Flavia coloured her hair before me, Celia showed me her teeth, Panthea heaved her bosom, Cleora brandished her diamond; I have seen Chloe's foot, and tied artificially the garters of Rhodope. "It is a general maxim, that those who doat upon themselves can have no violent affection for another: but, on the contrary, I found that the women's passion rose for me in proportion to the love they bore to themselves. This was verified in my amour with Narcissa, who was so constant to me, that it was pleasantly said, had I been little enough, she would have hung me at her girdle. The most dangerous rival I had was a gay empty fellow, who by the strength of a long intercourse with Narcissa, joined to his natural endowments, had formed himself into a perfect resemblance with her. I had been discarded, had she not observed that he frequently asked my opinion about matters of the last consequence. This made me still more considerable in her eye. Though I was eternally caressed by the ladies, such was their opinion of my honour, that I was never envied by the men. A jealous lover of Narcissa one day thought he had caught her in an amorous conversation: for, though he was at such a distance that he could hear nothing, he imagined strange things from her airs and gestures. Some The Transformation of Fidelio into a Looking-glass. times with a serene look she stepped back in a lis "MR. SPECTATOR, "I was lately at a tea-table, where some young ladies entertained the company with a relation of a coquette in the neighbourhood, who had been discovered practising before her glass. To turn the discourse, which from being witty grew to be malicious, the matron of the family took occasion from the subject to wish that there were to be found amongst men such faithful monitors to dress the mind by, as we consult to adorn the body. She added that, if a sincere friend were miraculously changed into a looking-glass, she should not be ashamed to ask its advice very often. This whimsical thought worked so much upon my fancy the whole evening, that it produced a very odd dream. "Methought that, as I stood before my glass, the image of a youth of an open ingenuous aspect appeared in it, who with a shrill voice spoke in the following manner : tening posture, and brightened into an innocent smile. Quickly after she swelled into an air of majesty and disdain, then kept her eyes half shut after a languishing manner, then covered her blushes with her hand, breathed a sigh, and seemed ready to sink down. In rushed the furious lover: but how great was his surprise to see no one there but the inno cent Fidelio, with his back against the wall betwixt two windows! "It were endless to recount all my adventures. Let me hasten to that which cost me my life, and Narcissa her happiness. She had the misfortune to have the small-pox, upon which I was expressly forbid her sight, it being apprehended that it would increase her distemper, and that I should infallibly catch it at the first look. As soon as she was suffered to leave her bed, she stole out of her chamber, and found me all alone in an adjoining apartment. She ran with transport to her darling, and without mixture of fear lest I should "The looking-glass you see was heretofore a man, dislike her. But oh me! what was her fury when even I the unfortunate Fidelio. I had two brothers, she heard me say, I was afraid and shocked at so whose deformity in shape was made up by the clear loathsome a spectacle! She stepped back, swollen ness of their understandings. It must be owned, with rage, to see if I had the insolence to repeat it. however, that (as it generally happens) they had I did, with this addition, that her ill-timed passion each a perverseness of humour suitable to their dis-had increased her ugliness. Enraged, inflamed, distortion of body. The eldest, whose belly sunk in tracted, she snatched a bodkin, and with all her monstrously, was a great coward; and though his force stabbed me to the heart. Dying, I preserved splenetic contracted temper made him take fire im- my sincerity, and expressed the truth, though in mediately, he made objects that beset him appear broken words; and by reproachful grimaces to the greater than they were. The second, whose breast last I mimicked the deformity of my murderess. swelled into a bold relievo, on the contrary, took Cupid, who always attends the fair, and pitied great pleasure in lessening every thing, and was the fate of so useful a favourite as I was, obtained perfectly the reverse of his brother. These odd- of the destinies, that my body should remain incor nesses pleased company once or twice, but disgusted | ruptible, and retain the qualities my mind had poșwhen often seen; for which reason, the young gen-sessed. I immediately lost the figure of man, and became smooth, polished, and bright, and to this day am the first favourite with the ladies."-T. No. 393. SATURDAY, MAY 31, 1712. Unusual sweetness purer joys inspires. Than in fair evening cloud, or humid bow. Many authors have written on the vanity of the creature, and represented the barrenness of every thing in this world, and its incapacity of producing of this nature are very useful to the sensual and voany solid or substantial happiness. As discourses luptuous, those speculations which show the bright side of things, and lay forth those innocent entertainments which are to be met with among the se"DEAR SIR, Copenhagen, May 1, 1710. veral objects that encompass us, are no less bene"The spring with you has already taken possesficial to men of dark and melancholy tempers. It sion of the fields and woods. Now is the season of was for this reason that I endeavoured to recommend solitude, and of moving complaints upon triviala cheerfulness of mind in my two last Saturday's sufferings. Now the griefs of lovers begin to flow, papers, and which I would still inculcate, not only and their wounds to bleed afresh. I, too, at this from the consideration of ourselves, and of that distance from the softer climates, am not without my Being on whom we depend, nor from the general discontents at present. You perhaps may laugh at survey of that universe in which we are placed at me for a most romantic wretch, when I have dis- present, but from reflections on the particular season closed to you the occasion of my uneasiness; and in which this paper is written. The creation is a yet I cannot help thinking my unhappiness real, in perpetual feast to the mind of a good man: every being confined to a region which is the very reverse thing he sees cheers and delights him. Providence of Paradise. The seasons here are all of them un-has imprinted so many smiles on nature, that it is pleasant, and the country quite destitute of rural charms. I have not heard a bird sing, nor a brook marmur, nor a breeze whisper, neither have I been blast with the sight of a flowery meadow, these two years. Every wind here is a tempest, and every water a turbulent ocean. I hope, when you reflect a little, you will not think the grounds of my complaint in the least frivolous and unbecoming a man Natural philosophy quickens this taste of the of serious thought; since the love of woods, of fields creation, and renders it not only pleasing to the imaand flowers, of rivers and fountains, seems to be agination, but to the understanding. It does not rest passion implanted in our natures the most early of any, even before the fair sex had a being. 'I am, Sir," &c. 66 impossible for a mind which is not sunk in more gross and sensual delights, to take a survey of them without several secret sensations of pleasure. The Psalmist has, in several of his divine poems, celemake the heart glad, and produce in it that vernal brated those beautiful and agreeable scenes which delight which I have before taken notice of, in the murmur of brooks and the melody of birds, in the shade of groves and woods, or in the embroidery of fields and meadows; but considers the several ends of Providence which are served by them, Could I transport myself with a wish from one and the wonders of divine wisdom which appear in country to another, I should choose to pass my win-them. It heightens the pleasures of the eye, and ter in Spain, my spring in Italy, my summer in raises such a rational admiration in the soul, as is England, and my autumn in France. Of all these little inferior to devotion. seasons there is none that can vie with the spring for beauty and delightfulness. It bears the same figure among the seasons of the year, that the morning does among the divisions of the day, or youth among the stages of life. The English summer is pleasanter than that of any other country in Europe, on no other account but because it has a greater mixture of spring in it. The mildness of our climate, with those frequent refreshments of dews and rains that fall among us, keep up a perpetual cheerfulness in our fields, and fill the hottest months of the year with a lively verdure. It is not in the power of every one to offer up this kind of worship to the great Author of nature, and to indulge these more refined meditations of heart, which are doubtless highly acceptable in his sight; I shall therefore conclude this short essay on that pleasure which the mind naturally conceives from the present season of the year, by the recommending. of a practice for which every one has sufficient abilities. I would have my readers endeavour to moralize this natural pleasure of the soul, and to improve this vernal delight, as Milton calls it, into a ChrisIn the opening of the spring, when all nature be- tian virtue. When we find ourselves inspired with gins to recover herself, the same animal pleasure this pleasing instinct, this secret satisfaction and which makes the birds sing, and the whole brute complacency, arising from the beauties of the creacreation rejoice, rises very sensibly in the heart of tion, let us consider to whom we stand indebted for man. I know none of the poets who have observed all these entertainments of sense, and who it is that so well as Milton these secret overflowings of glad- thus opens his hand, and fills the world with good. ness which diffuse themselves through the wind of The Apostle instructs us to take advantage of our the beholder, upon surveying the gay scenes of na-present temper of mind, to graft upon it such a reture: he has touched upon it twice or thrice in his Paradise Lost, and describes it very beautifully under the name of "vernal delight," in that passage where he represents the devil himself as almost sensible of it: Blossoms and fruits at once of golden hue ligious exercise as is particularly conformable to it, by that precept which advises those who are sad to pray, and those who are merry to sing psalms. The cheerfulness of heart which springs up in us from the survey of nature's works, is an admirable preparation for gratitude. The mind has gone a great way towards praise and thanksgiving, that is filled with such a secret gladness-a grateful reflection on the Supreme Cause who produces it, sanctifies it in the soul, and gives it its proper value. Such an habitual disposition of mind consecrates every field and wood, turns an ordinary walk into a morning or evening sacrifice, and will improve those transient gleams of joy which naturally brighten up and refresh the soul on such occasions, into an inviolable and perpetual state of bliss and happiness. I. No. 394.] MONDAY, JUNE 2, 1712. Bene colligitur hæc pueris et mulierculis et servis et servorum simillimis liberis esse grata: gravi vero homini et ea, quæ fiunt, judicio certo ponderanti, probari posse nullo modo. It is obvious to see, that these things are very acceptable to children, young women, and servants, and to such as most resemble servants; but they can by no means meet with the approbation of people of thought and consideration. TULL. prove and smile at all he says in the gross. It is good comedy enough to observe a superior talking half sentences, and playing a humble admirer's countenance from one thing to another, with such perplexity, that he knows not what to sneer in approbation of. But this kind of complaisance is pe culiarly the manner of courts; in all other places you must constantly go further in compliance with the persons you have to do with, than a mere conformity of looks and gestures. If you are in a country life, and would be a leading man, a good stomach, a loud voice, and a rustic cheerfulness, will go a great way, provided you are able to drink, and drink any thing. But I was just now going to draw the manner of behaviour I would advise people to practise under some maxim; and intimated, that every one almost was governed by his pride. There was an old fellow about forty years ago so peevish and fretful, though a man of business, that no one I HAVE been considering the little and frivolous could come at him: but he frequented a particular things which give men access to one another, and little coffee-house, where he triumphed over every power with each other, not only in the common and body at trick-track and backgammon. The way to indifferent accidents of life, but also in matters of pass his office well, was first to be insulted by him greater importance. You see in elections for mem-at one of those games in his leisure hours; for his Lers of parliament, how far saluting rows of old women, drinking with clowns, and being upon a level with the lowest part of mankind, in that wherein they themselves are lowest, their diversions, will carry a candidate. A capacity for prostituting a man's self in his behaviour, and descending to the present humour of the vulgar, is perhaps as good an ingredient as any other for making a considerable figure in the world; and if a man has nothing else or better to think of, he could not make his way to wealth and distinction by properer methods, than studying the particular bent or inclination of people with whom he converses, and working from the observation of such their bias in all matters wherein he has any intercourse with them: for his ease and comfort he may assure himself, he need not be at the expense of any great talent or virtue to please even those who are possessed of the highest qualifications. Pride, in some particular disguise or other (often a secret to the proud man himself), is the most ordinary spring of action among men. You need no more than to discover what a man values himself for: then of all things admire that But, to wave the enumeration of the sundry ways quality, but be sure to be failing in it yourself in of applying by presents, bribes, management of comparison of the man whom you court. I have people's passions and affections, in such a manner heard or read of a secretary of state in Spain, who served a prince who was happy in an elegant use of the Latin tongue, and often writ dispatches in it with his own hand. The king showed his secretary a letter he had written to a foreign prince, and under the colour of asking his advice, laid a trap for his applause. The honest man read it as a faithful counsellor, and not only excepted against his tying himself down too much by some expressions, but mended the phrase in others. You may guess the dispatches that evening did not take much longer time. Mr. Secretary, as soon as he came to his own house, sent for his eldest son, and communicated to him that the family must retir: out of Spain as soon as possible; for," said he, "the king knows I understand Latin better than he does." This egregious fault in a man of the world, should be a lesson to all who would make their fortunes: but a regard must be carefully had to the person with whom you have to do; for it is not to be doubted but a great man of common sense must look with secret indignation, or bridled laughter, on all the slaves who stand round him with ready faces to ap vanity was to show that he was a man of pleasure as well as business. Next to this sort of insinuation, which is called in all places (from its taking its birth in the households of princes) making one's court, the most prevailing way is, by what better-bred people call a present, the vulgar a bribe. I humbly conceive that such a thing is conveyed with more gallantry in a billet-doux that should be understood at the Bank, than in gross money, but as to stubborn people, who are so surly as to accept of neither note nor cash, having formerly dabbled in chemistry, I can only say, that one part of matter asks one thing, and another another, to make it fluent; but there is nothing but may be dissolved by a proper mean. Thus, the virtue which is too obdurate for gold or paper, shall melt away very kindly in a liquid. The island of Barbadoes (a shrewd people) manage all their appeals to Great Britain by a skilful distribution of citron water among the whisperers about men in power. Generous wines do every day prevail, and that in great points, where ten thousand times their value would have been rejected with indignation. as it shall appear that the virtue of the best man is by one method or other corruptible, let us look out for some expedient to turn those passions and affections on the side of truth and honour. When a man has laid it down for a position, that parting with his integrity, in the minutest circumstance, is losing so much of his very self, self-love will become a virtue. By this means, good and evil will be the only objects of dislike and approbation; and he that injures any man, has effectually wounded the man of this turn as much as if the harm had been to himself. This seems to be the only expedient to arrive at an impartiality: and a man who follows the dictates of truth and right reason, may by arti fice be led into error, but never can into guilt. T. No. 395.] TUESDAY, JUNE 3, 1712. Quod nune ratio est, impetus ante fuit,—Ovid. Rem, Amor, 10, 'Tis reason now, 'twas appetite before. "BEWARE of the ides of March," said the Roman * Then commonly called Barbadoes water. augur to Julius Cæsar: "Beware of the month of Honeycomb has often assured me that it is easier to May," says the British Spectator to his fair country-steal one of this species, when she is passed her Women. The caution of the first was unhappily ne grand climacteric, than to carry off an icy girl on glected, and Caesar's confidence cost him his life. I this side five-and-twenty; and that a rake of his acam apt to flatter myself that my pretty readers had quaintance, who had in vain endeavoured to gain much more regard to the advice I gave them, since the affections of a young lady of fifteen, had at last I have yet received very few accounts of any noto- made his fortune by running away with her grandrious trips made in the last month. But, though I hope for the best, I shall not pronounce too positively on this point, till I have seen forty weeks well over; at which period of time, as my good friend Sir Roger has often told me, he has more business as a justice of peace, among the dissolute young people in the country, than at any other season of the year. Neither must I forget a letter which I received near a fortnight since from a lady, who, it seems, could hold out no longer, telling me she looked upon the month as then out, for that she had all along reckoned by the new style. On the other hand, I have great reason to believe, from several angry letters which have been sent to me by disappointed lovers, that my advice has been of very signal service to the fair sex, who, according to the old proverb, were "forewarned, forearmed."" One of these gentlemen tells me, that he would have given me a hundred pounds, rather than should have published that paper; for that his mistress, who had promised to explain herself to him about the beginning of May, upon reading that discourse told him, that she would give him ber answer in June. mother. But as I do not design this speculation for the evergreens of the sex, I shall again apply myself to those who would willingly listen to the dictates of reason and virtue, and can now hear me in cold blood. If there are any who have forfeited their innocence, they must now consider themselves under that melancholy view in which Chamont regards his sister, in those beautiful lines: -Long she flourish'd, Grew sweet to sense, and lovely to the eye, Cropt this fair rose, and rifled all its sweetness, On the contrary she who has observed the timely cautions I gave her, and lived up to the rules of modesty, will now flourish like "a rose in June,” with all her virgin blushes and sweetness about her. I must, however, desire these last to consider, how shameful it would be for a general, who has made a successful campaign, to be surprised in his winterquarters. It would be no less dishonourable for a lady to lose, in any other month of the year, what she has been at the pains to preserve in May. There is no charm in the female sex that can supply the place of virtue. Without innocence, beauty is unlovely, and quality contemptible; good Thyrsis acquaints me, that when he desired Sylvia to take a walk in the fields, she told him, the Spec-breeding degenerates into wantonness, and wit into tator had forbidden her. Another of my correspondents, who writes himself Mat Meager, complains that, whereas he constantly used to breakfast with his mistress upon chocolate, going to wait upon her the first of May, he found his usual treat very much changed for the worse, and has been forced to feed ever since upon green tea. As I begun this critical season with a caveat to the ladies, I shall conclude it with a congratulation, and do most heartily wish them joy of their happy deliverance. They may now reflect with pleasure on the dangers they have escaped, and look back with as much satisfaction on the perils that threatened them, as their great-grandmothers did formerly on the burning ploughshares, after having passed through the ordeal trial. The instigations of the spring are now abated. The nightingale gives over her "love labour'd song," as Milton phrases it; the blossoms are fallen, and the beds of flowers swept away by the seythe of the mower. I shall now allow my fair readers to return to their romances and chocolate, provided they make use of them with moderation, till about the middle of the month, when the sun shall have made some progress in the Crab. Nothing is more dangerous than too much confidence and security. The Trojans, whe stood upon their guard all the while the Grecians lay before their city, when they fancied the siege was raised, and the danger past, were the very next night burnt in their beds. I must also observe, that as in some climates there is a perpetual spring, so in some female constitutions there is a perpetual May. These are a kind of valetudinarians in chastity, whom I would continue in a constant diet. I cannot think these wholly out of danger, till they have looked upon the other sex at least five years through a pair of spectacles. Will impudence. It is observed, that all the virtues are represented by both painters and statuaries under female shapes; but if any one of them has a more particular title to that sex, it is modesty. I shall leave it to the divines to guard them against the opposite vice, as they may be overpowered by temptations. It is sufficient for me to have warned theny against it, as they may be led astray by instinet. I desire this paper may be read with more than ordinary attention, at all tea-tables within the cities of London and Westminster.-X. No. 396.] WEDNESDAY, JUNE 4, 1712. Barbara, Celarent, Darii, Ferio, Baralipton. HAVING a great deal of business upon my hands at present, I shall beg the reader's leave to present him with a letter that I received about half a year ago from a gentleman at Cambridge, who styles himself Peter de Quir. I have kept it by me some months; and though I did not know at first what to make of it, upon my reading it over very frequently I have at last discovered several conceits in it: I would not therefore have my reader discouraged if he does not take them at the first perusal. "To MR. SPECTATOR. "From St. John's College, Cambridge, Feb. 3, 1712. "The monopoly of puns in this university has been an immemorial privilege of the Johnians;* and we cannot help resenting the late invasion of our ancient right as to that particular, by a little pretender to clenching in a neighbouring college, who in application to you by way of letter, a while ago, styled himself Philobrune. Dear Sir, as you are by character a profest well-wisher to speculation, • The students of St. John's College. you will excuse a remark which this gentleman's content with the employment of refining upon passion for the brunette has suggested to a brother theorist: it is an offer towards a mechanical account of nis lapse to punning, for he belongs to a set of mortals who value themselves upon an uncommon mystery in the more humane and polite parts of letters. Shakspeare's points and quibbles (for which he "Your very humble Servant, No. 397.] THURSDAY, JUNE 5, 1712 Fecerat- "A conquest by one of this species of females gives a very odd turn to the intellectuals of the captivated person, and very different from that way of thinking which a triumph from the eyes of another, more emphatically of the fair sex, does generally occasion. It fills the imagination with an assemblage of such ideas and pictures as are hardly any thing but shade, such as night, the devil, &c. These portraitures very near overpower the light of the understanding, almost benight the faculties, and give that melancholy tincture to the most sanguine complexion, which this gentleman calls an inclination to be in a brown-study, and is usually attended with worse consequences, in case of a repulse. During this twilight of intellects, the patient is extremely apt, as love is the most witty passion in nature, to offer at some pert sallies now and then, by way of flourish, upon the amiable enchantress, and unfortunately stumbles upon that mongrel miscreated (to speak in Miltonic) kind of wit, vulgarly termed the pun. It would not be much amiss to consult Dr. T-W (who is certainly a very able projector, and whose system of divinity and spiritual mechanics obtains very much among the better part of our under graduates) whether a general intermarriage, enjoined by parliament, between this sisterhood of the olive-beauties and the fraternity of the people called Quakers, would not be a very serviccable expedient, and abate that overflow of light which shines within them so powerfully, that it dazzles their eyes, and dances them into a thousand vagaries of error and enthusiasm. These reflections may impart some light towards a discovery of the origin of punning among us, and the foundation of its prevailing so long in this famous body. It is notorious, from the instance under consideration, that it must be owing chiefly to the use of brown jugs, muddy belch, and the fumes of a certain memorable place of rendezvous with us at meals, known by the name of Staincoat Hole: for the atmosphere of the kitchen, like the tail of a comet, predominates least about the fire, but resides behind, and fills the fragrant receptacle above mentioned. Besides, it is further observable, that the delicate spirits among us, who declare against these nauseous proceedings, sip tea, and put up for critic and amour, profess likewise an equal abhorrence for panning, the ancient innocent diversion of this society. After all, Sir, though it may appear something absurd that I It is for this reason that the short speeches or seem to approach you with the air of an advocate sentences which we often meet with in histories for punning (you who have justified your censures make a deeper impression on the mind of the reader of the practice in a set dissertation upon that sub- than the most laboured strokes in a well-written ject) yet I am confident you will think it abun-tragedy. Truth and matter of fact sets the person dantly atoned for by observing, that this humbler exercise may be as instrumental in diverting us from any innovating schemes and hypotheses in wit, as dwelling upon honest orthodox logic would be in securing us from heresy in religion. Had Mr. W-n'st researches been confined within the bounds of Ramus or Crackenthorp, that learned newsmonger might have acquiesced in what the holy oracles pronounced upon the deluge, like other Christians; and had the surprising Mr. Ly been For my own part, I am of opinion compassion does not only refine and civilize human nature, but has something in it more pleasing and agreeable than what can be met with in such an indolent happiness, such an indifference to mankind, as that in which the Stoics placed their wisdom. As love is the most delightful passion, pity is nothing else but love softened by a degree of sorrow. In short, it is a kind of pleasing anguish, as well as generous sympathy, that knits mankind together, and blends them in the same common lot. Those who have laid down rules for rhetoric or poetry advise the writer to work himself up, if pos sible, to the pitch of sorrow which he endeavours to produce in others. There are none therefore who stir up pity so much as those who indite their own sufferings. Grief has a natural eloquence belonging to it, and breaks out in more moving sentiments than can be supplied by the finest imagination. Nature on this occasion dictates a thousand passionate things which cannot be supplied by art. actually before us in the one, whom fiction places at a greater distance from us in the other. I do not remember to have seen any ancient or modern story more affecting than a letter of Ann of Boulogne, wife to King Henry the Eighth, and mother to Queen Elizabeth, which is still extant in the Cotton library, as written by her own hand. Shakspeare himself could not have made her talk in a strain so suitable to her condition and character One sees in it the expostulations of a slighted lover, the resentments of an injured woman, and the surrows of an imprisoned queen. I need not acquaint |