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designs shortly to publish a new edition of Diogenes Laërtius, to add this treatise of mine by way of supplement; I shall now, to let the world see what may be expected from me (first begging Mr. Spectator's leave that the world may see it) briefly touch upon some of my chief observations, and then subscribe myself, your humble servant. In the first place I shall give you two or three of their maxims: the fundamental one, upon which their whole system is built, is this, viz. “That time being an implacable enemy to, and destroyer of all ..o.o. to be paid in his own coin, and destroyed and murdered without mercy, by all the ways that can be invented.” Another favourite saying of theirs is, ‘That business was only designed for knaves, and study for blockheads.” A third seems to be a ludicrous one, but has a great effect upon their lives; and is this, *That the devil is at home.” Now for their manner of living: and here I have a large field to expatiate in; but I shall reserve particulars for my intended discourse, and now only mention one or two of their principal exercises. The elder proficients employ themselves in inspecting mores hominum multorum, in getting acquainted with all the signs and windows in the town. Some are arrived to so great a knowledge, that they can tell every time any butcher kills a calf, every time an old woman’s cat is in the straw; and a thousand other matters as important. One ancient philosopher contemplates two or three hours every day over a sun-dial; and is true to the à. -- As the dial to the sun, Although it be not shone upon.”

Our younger students are content to ca their speculations as yet no farther than bowling-greens, billiard-tables, and such like places. This may serve for a sketch of my design; in which I hope I shall have your encouragement. I am, Sir, yours.”

I must be sojust as to observe I have formerly seen of this sect at our other university; though not distinguished by the appellation which the learned historian, my correspondent, reports they bear at Cambridge. They were ever looked upon as a people that impaired themselves more b their strict application to the rules of their order, than any other students whatever. Others seldom hurt themselves any further than to gain weak eyes, and sometimes headaches; but these philosophers are seized all over with a general inability, indolence, and weariness, and a certain impatience of the place they are in, with a heaviness in removing to another.

The loungers are satisfied with being merely part of the number of mankind, without distinguishing themselves from amongst them. They may be said rather to suffer their time to pass than to spend it, without regard to the past, or prospect of the future. All they know of this life is

only the present instant, and do not taste even that. When one of this order happens to be a man of fortune, the expense of his time is transferred to his coach and horses, and his life is to be measured by their motion, not his own enjoyments or sufferings. The chief entertainment one of these o can possibly propose to himself, is to get a relish of dress. This, methinks, might diversify the person he is weary of (his own dear self) to himself. . I have known these two amusements make one of these philosophers, make a very tolerable figure in the world; with variety of dresses in public assemblies in town, and quick motion of his horses out of it; now to Bath, now to Tunbridge, then to Newmarket, and then to London, he has in process of time brought it to pass, that his coach and his horses have been mentioned in all those places. When the loungers leave an academic life, and instead of this more elegant way of appearing in the polite world, retire to the seats of their an– cestors, they usually join a pack of dogs, and employ their days in defending their poultry from foxes; I do not know any other method that any of this order have ever taken to make a noise in the world; but I shall enquire into such about this town as have arrived at the dignity of being loungers by the force of natural parts, without having ever seen a university; and send my correspondent for the embellishment of his book, the names and history of those who pass their lives without any incidents at all; and how they shift coffeehouses and chocolate-houses from hour to hour, to get over the insupportable labour of doing nothing. R.

No. 55.] Thursday, May 3, 1711. Intus et in jecore tegro Nascuntur Domini Pers. Sat. v. 120. - Our passions play the tyrant in our breasts. Most of the trades, professions, and ways of living among mankind, take their original either from the love of pleasure or the fear of want. The former, when it becomes too violent, degenerates into luxury, and the latter into avarice. As these

...[two principles of action draw different

ways, Persius has given us a very humourous account of a young fellow who was roused out of his bed in order to be sent upon a long voyage, by Avarice, and afterwards overpersuaded and kept at home by Luxury. I shall set down the pleadings of these two imaginary persons, as they are in the original, with Mr. Dryden's translation of them: Mane, piger, stertis: surge, inquit Avaritia; eja Surge. Negas, instat, surge, induit. Non queo. Surge. Et quid agam Rogitas” saperdas advehe ponto, Castoreum, stuppas, ebenum, thus, lubrica Coa. Tolle recens primus piper e sitiente cannelo. Verte aliquid; jura. Sed Jupiter audiet. Eheu ! Baro, regustatum digito terebrare salinum

Contentus perages, si vivere cum Jove tendis.

Jam puerispellem succinctus, et acnophorum aptas;
Ocyus ad naven. Nil obstat quin trahe vasta
AEgaeuin rapias, nisi solers Luxuria ante
Seductum Inoueat: Quo deinde insane ruis? Quo?
Quid tibi viso Calido sub pectore mascula bilis
Intuinuit, quan non extinxerit urna cicuta 3
Tun' inare transilias 7 Tibi torta cannabe fulto
Coena sit in transtro * Veientanumque rubellum
Exhalet vapida itesum pice sessilis obba
Quid petis Ut nummi, quos hic quincunce modesto
Nutrieras, pergant avidos sudare deunces !
Indulge genio : carpamus dulcia; nostrum est
Quod vivis; cinis, et manes, et fabula fies,
Wive memor lethi; fugit hora. Hoc quod loquor,
inde est.
En quid agis 7 Duplici in diversum scinderishamo.
Hunceine, an hunc sequeris 2–' Sat. v. 132.

• Whether alone or in thy harlot's lap, o
When thou wouldst take a lazy morning's map;
Up, up, says Avarice; thou snor'st again,
Stretchest toy limbs, and yawn'st, but all in vain.
The rugged tyrant no denial takes;
At his command th’ unwilling sluggard wakes.
What must I do? he cries; What? says his lord;
Why rise, make ready, and go straight aboard;
With fish, from Euxine seas, thy vessel freight;
Flax, castor, Caan wines, the precious weight
Of pepper, and Sabean incense, take
With thy own hands, from the tird camel's back,
And with post-haste thy running markets make;
Be sure to turn the penny; lie and swear ;
'Tis wholesome sin: but Jove, thou say'st will hear.
Swear, soul, or starve, for the dilemma's even ;
A tradesman thou! and hope to go to heav'n 1
Resolved for sea, the slaves thy baggage pack,
Each saddled with his burden on his back:
Nothing retards thy voyage now, but he,
That soft, voluptuous prince, call'd Luxury;
And he may ask this civil question ; Friend,
What dost thou make a shipboard 2 To what end ?
Art thou of Bethlein's noble college free ?
Stark, staring mad, that thou wonld'st tempt the sea?
Cubb'd in a cabin, on a matrass laid,
On a brown George, with lousy swabbers fed;
Dead wine. that stinks of the Borachio, sup
From a fowl jack, or greasy maple cup 3
Say would'st thou bear all this, to raise thy store,
From six it th' hundred to six hundred more ?
Indulge, and to thy genius freely give;
For, not to live at ease, is not to live.
Death stalks behind thee, and each flying hour
Does some loose remnant of thy life devour.
Live. while thou liv'st; for death will make us all
A name, a nothing but an old wife's tale.
Speak : wilt thou Avarice or Pleasure choose
To be thy lord? Take one, and one refuse.’

When a government flourishes in conquests, and is secure from foreign attacks, it naturally falls into all the pleasures of luxury; and as these pleasures are ve expensive, they put those who are addicted to them upon raising fresh supplies of money, by all the methods of rapaciousness and corruption; so that avarice and huxury very often become one complicated principle of action, in those whose hearts are wholly set upon ease, magnificence, and pleasure. The most elegant and correct of all the Latin historians observes, that in his time, when the most formidable states of the world were subdued by the Romans, the republic sunk into those two vices of a quite different nature, luxury and avarice:* Ahd accordingly describes Catiline as one who coveted the wealth of other men, at the same time that he squandered away his own. This observation on the commonwealth, when it was in its height of power and riches, holds good of all governments that are settled in a state of ease

* Alieni appetens, sui profusus.-Sal,

and prosperity. At such times men naturally endeavour to outshine one another in pomp and splendour, and having no fears to alarm them from abroad, indulge themselves in the enjoyment of all the pleasures they can get into their possession; which naturally produces avarice, and an immoderate pursuit after wealth and riches. - As I was humouring myself in the speculation of those two great principles of action, I could not forbear throwing my thoughts into a little kind of allegory or fable, with which I shall here present my reader. There were two very powerful tyrants engaged in a perpetual war against each other, the name of the first was Luxury and of the cond Avario. The aim of each of them was no less than universal monarchy over the hearts of mankind. Luxury had many generals under him, who did him great service, as Pleasure, Mirth, Pomp, and Fashion. Avarice was likewise very strong in his officers, being faithfully served by Hunger, Industry, Care, and Watchfulness: he had likewise a privy-counsellor who was always at his elbow, and whispering something or other in his ear: the name of this privy-counsellor was Poverty. As Avarice conducted himself by the counsels of Poverty, his antagonist was entirely guided by the dictates and advice of Plenty, who was his first counsellor and minister of state, that concerted all his measures for him, and never departed out of his sight. While these two great rivals were thus contending for empire, their conquests were very various. uxury got possession of one heart, and Avarice of another. The father of a family would often range himself under the banners of Avarice, and the son under those of Luxury. The wife and the husband would often declare themselves on the two different parties: nay, the same person would very often side with one in his youth, and revolt to the other in his old age. Indeed the wise men of the world stood neuter; but alas! their numbers were not considerable. At length, when these two potentates had wearied themselves with waging war upon one another, they agreed upon an interview, at which neither of their counsellors were to be present. It is said that Luxury began the parley, and after having represented the endless state of war in which they were engaged, told his enemy, with a frankness of heart which is natural to him, that he believed they two should be very good friends were in not for the instigations of Poverty, that pernicious counsellor, who made an ill use of his ear, and filled him with groundless apprehensions and prejudices. To this Avarice replied, that he looked upon Plenty (the first minister of his antagonist) to be a much more destructive counsellor than Poverty, for that he was perpetually suggesting

pleasures, banishing all the necessary cautions against want, and consequently undermining those principles on which the government of Avarice was founded. At last, in order to an accommodation, they agreed upon this preliminary; that each of them should immediately dismiss his privycounsellor. When things were thus far adjusted towards a peace, all other differences were soon accommodated, insomuch that for the future they resolved to live as #. friends and confederates, and to share etween them whatever conquests were made on either side. For this reason, we now find Luxury and Avarice taking possession of the same heart, and dividing the same person between them. To which I shall only add, that since the discarding of the counsellors above-mentioned, Avarice supplies Luxury in the room of Plenty, as Luxury prompts Avarice in the place of Poverty. C.

No. 56.] Friday, May 4, 1711.

Felices errore suo.— Lucan, 1.454.

Happy in their mistake.

The Americans believe that all creatures have souls, not only men and women, but brutes, vegetables, nay, even the most inanimate things, as stocks and stones. They believe the same of all the works of art, as of knives, boats, looking-glasses; and that as any of these . perish, their souls go into another world, which is inhabited by the ghosts of men and women. For this reason they always place by the corpse of their dead friend a bow and arrows, that he may make use of the souls of them in the other world, as he did of their wooden bodies in this. How absurd soever such an opinion as this may appear, our European philosophers have maintained several notions altogether as improbable. Some of Plato's followers in particular, when they talk of the world of ideas, entertain us with substances and beings no less extravagant and chimerical. Many Aristotelians have likewise spoken as unintelligibly of their substantial forms. I shall only instance Albertus Magnus, who, in his dissertation upon the load-stone, observing that fire will destroy its magnetic virtues, tells us that he took particular notice of one as it lay glowing amidst a heap of burning coals, and that he perceived a certain blue vapour to arise from it, which he believed might be the substantial form, that is in our West Indian phrase, the soul of the loadstone.

There is a tradition among the Americans, that one of their countrymen descended in a vision to the great repository of souls, or, as we call it here, to the other world; and that upon his return he gave his friends a distinct account of everythin he saw among those regions of the dead.

friend of mine, whom I have formerly mentioned, prevailed upon one of the interpreters of the Indian kings, to inquire of them, if possible, what tradition they have among them of this matter: which, as well as he could learn by many questions which he asked them at several times, was in substance as follows:— The visionary, whose name was Marraton, after having travelled for a long space under a hollow mountain, arrived at length on the confines of this world of spirits, but could not enter it by reason of a thick forest made up of bushes, brambles, and pointed thorns, so perplexed and interwoven with one another, that it was impossible to find a passage through it. Whilst he was looking about for some track or o that might be worn in any part of it, he saw a huge lion crouched under the side of it, who kept his eye upon him in the same reas when he watches for his {j}. he Indian immediately started back, whilst the lion rose with a spring, and leaped towards him. Being wholly destitute of all other weapons, he stooped down to take up a huge stone in his hand; but to his infinite surprise grasped nothing, and found the supposed stone to be only the apparition of one. If he was disappointed on this side, he was as much pleased on the other, when he found the lion, which had seized on his left shoulder, had no power to hurt him, and was only the ghost of that ravenous creature which it appeared to be. He no sooner got rid of this impotent enemy, but he marched up to the wood, and after having surveyed it for some time, endeavoured to press into one part of it that was a little thinner than o ". *. again, to his t surprise, he found the i. .*.* o, but that he walked through briars and brambles with the same ease as through the open air; and in short, that the whole wood was nothing else but a wood of shades. He immediately concluded, that this huge thicket of thorns and brakes was designed as a kind offence or quickset hedge to the ghosts it enclosed; and that probably their soft substances might be torn by these subtle points and prickles, which were too weak to make any impressions in flesh and blood. With this thought he resolved to travel through this intricate wood; when by degrees, he felt a gale of perfumes breathing upon him, that grew stronger and sweeter in proportion as he advanced. He had not proceeded much further, when he observed the thorns and briers to end, and gave place to a thousand beautiful green trees covered with blossoms of the finest scents and colours, that formed a wilderness of sweets, and were a kind of lining to those ragged scenes which he had before passed through. As he was coming out of this delightful part of the wood, and entering upon the plains it enclosed, he saw several horsemen rushing by him, and a little while after he heard the cry of a pack of dogs. He had not listened long before he saw the apparition of a milk-white steed, with a young man on the back of it, advancing upon full stretch after the souls of about a hundred beagles, that were hunting down the ghost of a hare, which ran away before them with an unspeakable swiftness. As the man on the milk-white steed came by him, he looked upon him very attentively, and found him to be the young prince Nicharagua, who died about half a year before, and by reason of his great virtues, was at that time lamented over all the western parts of America. * e He had no sooner got out of the wood, but he was entertained with such a landscape of flowery plains, †o meadows, running streams, sunny hills, and shady vales, as were not to be represented by his own expressions, nor, as he said, by the conceptions of others. This happy region was peopled with innumerable swarms of spirits, who applied themselves to exercises and diversions, according as their fancies led them. Some of them were tossing the figure of a coit; others were pitching the shadow of a bar; others were breaking the apparition of a horse; and multitudes emoying themselves upon ingenious handicrafts with the souls of departed utensils, : that i. name whic i. the Indian ge they give their tools when the .*. or §. As he oś through this delightful scene, he was very often tempted to pluck the flowers that rose every where about him in the greatest variety and profusion, having never seen several of them in his own country: but he quickly found, that though they were ob#. of his sight, they were not liable to is touch. He at length came to the side of a §. river, and being a good fisherman himself, stood upon the banks of it some time to look upon an angler that had taken a great many shapes of fishes, which le flouncing up and down by him. should have told my reader, that this Indian had been formerly married to one of the greatest beauties of his country, by whom he had several children. This couple were so famous for their love and constancy to one another, that the Indians to this day, when they give a married man joy of his wife, wish they may live together like Marraton and Yaratilda. Marraton had not stood long by the fisherman, when he saw the shadow of his beloved Yaratilda, who had for some time fixed her eyes upon him, before he discovered her. Her arms were stretched out towards him, floods of tears ran down her eyes. . Her looks, her hands, her voice called him over to her; and at the same time seemed to tell him that the river was impassable. Who can describe the passion made up of joy, sorrow, love, desire, astonishment, that rose in the Indian upon the sight of his dear Yaratilda” He could express it by nothing

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but his tears, which ran like a river down his cheeks as he looked upon her. He had not stood in this posture long, before he plunged into the stream that lay before him; and finding it to be nothing but the phantom of a river, walked on the bottom of it till he arose on the other side. At his approach Yaratilda flew into his arms, whilst Marraton wished himself disencumbered of that body which kept her from his embraces. After many questions and endearments on both sides, she conducted him to a bower which she had dressed with all the ornaments that could be met with in those blooming regions. She had made it gay beyond imagination, and was every day adding something new to it. As Marraton stood astonished at the unspeakable beauty of her habitation, and ravished with the fragrancy that came from every part of it, Yaratilda told him that she was preparing this bower for his reception, as well know; that his piety to his God, and his faithful dealing towards men, would certainly bring him to that happy place, whenever his life should be at an end. She then brought two of her children to him, who died some years before, and resided with her in the same delightful bower; advising him to breed up those others which were still with him in such a manner, that they might hereafter all of them meet together in this happy place. The tradition tells us further, that he had afterwards a sight of those dismal habitations which are the portion of ill men after death; and mentions several molten seas of gold, in which were plunged the souls of barbarous Europeans, who put to the sword so many thousands of poor Indians for the sake of that precious metal. But having already touched upon the chief points of this tradition, and exceeded the measure of my paper, I shall not give any further account of it. C.

No. 57.] Saturday, May 5, 1711.

Quem priestare potest mulier galeata pudorem, Quae fugit a sexu? Jur. Sat. vi. 251.

What sense of shame in woman's breast can lic, Inur'd to arms, and her own sex to fly.—Dryden. WHEN the wife of Hector, in Homer's Iliad, discourses with her husband about the battle in which he was going to engage, the hero, desiring her to leave the matter to his care, bids her go to her maids, and mind her spinning: by which the poet intimates that men and women ought to busy themselves in their proper spheres, and on such matters only as are suitable to their respective sex. I am at this time acquainted with a youn gentleman, who has passed a great part o his life in the nursery, and upon occasion can make a caudle or a sack-posset better than any man in England. He is likewise a wonderful criticin cambric and muslins, and will talk an hour together upon a sweetmeat. He entertains his mother every night with observations that he makes both in town and court: as what lady shows the nicest fancy in her dress; what man of uality wears the fairest wig; who has the nest linen, who the prettiest snuff-box, with many other the like curious remarks, that may be made in good company. 'On the other hand, I have very o the opportunity of seeing a rural Andromache, who came up to town last winter, and is one of the greatest fox-hunters in the country. She talks of hounds and horses, and makes nothing of leaping over a sixbar gate. If a man tells her a waggish story, she gives him a push with her hand in jest, and calls him an impudent dog; and if her servant neglects his business, threatens to kick him out of the house. I have heard her in her wrath call a substantial tradesman a lousy cur; and remember one day, when she could not think of the name of a person, she described him in a large company of men and ladies by the fellow with the broad shoulders. If those speeches and actions, which in their own nature are indifferent, appear ridiculous when they proceed from a wrong sex, the faults and imperfections of one sex transplanted into another, appear black and monstrous. As for the men, I shall not in this paper any further concern myself about them; but as I would fain contribute to make womankind, which is the most beautiful part of the creation, entirely amiable, and wear out all those little spots and blemishes that are apt to rise among the charms which nature has poured out upon them, I shall dedicate this paper to their service. The spot which I would here endeavour to clear them of, is that party rage which of late years is very much crept into their conversation. This is, in its nature, a male vice, and made up of many angry and cruel passions that are altogether repugnant to the softness, the modesty, and those other endearing qualities which are natural to the fair sex. Women were formed to temper mankind, and soothe them into tenderness and compassion; not to set an edge upon their minds, and blow up in them those passions which are too apt to rise of their own accord. When I have seen a pretty mouth uttering calumnies and invectives, what would I not have given to have stopt it? How have I been troubled to see some of the finest features in the world grow pale, and tremble with party rage? Camilla is one of the greatest beauties in the British nation, and yet values herself more upon being the virago of one party, than upon being the toast of both. The dear creature, about a week ago, encountered the fierce and beautiful Penthesilea across a tea-table; but in the height of her anger, as her hand chanced to shake with the earnestness of the dispute, she scalded her fingers, and spilt a dish of tea upon her

petticoat. Had not this accident broke off the debate, nobody knows where it would have ended. There is one consideration which I would earnestly recommend to all my female readers, and which, I hope, will have some weight with them. In short, it is this, that there is nothing so bad for the face as party zeal. It gives an ill-natured cast to the eye and a disagreeable sourness to the look; besides that it makes the lines too strong, and flushes them worse than brandy. I have seen a woman’s face break out in heats, as she has been talking against a great lord, whom she had never seen on her life; and indeed I never knew a party-woman that kept her beauty for a twelve-month. I would therefore advise all my female readers, as they value their complexions, to let alone all disputes of this nature; though at the same time, I would give free liberty to all superannuated motherly partisans to be as violent as they please, since there will be no danger either of their spoiling their faces, or of their gaining converts. For my own part I think a man makes an odious and despicable figure that is violent in a party; but a woman is too sincere to mitigate the fury of her principles with temper and discretion, and to act with that caution and reservedness which are requisite in our sex. When this unnatural zeal gets into them, it throws them into ten thousand heats and extravagancies; their generous souls set no bounds to their love, or to their hatred; and whether a whig or a tory, a lap-dog or a gallant, an opera or a puppet-show, be the object of it, the passion, while it reigns, engrosses the whole Woman. I remember when Dr. Titus Oates* was in all his glory, I accompanied my friend Will Honeycomb in a visit to a lady of his acquaintance. We were no sooner sat down, but upon casting my eyes about the room, I found in almost every corner of it a print that represented the doctor in all. magnitudes and dimensions. A little after, as the lady was discoursing with my friend, and held her snuff-box in her hand, who should I see in the lid of it but the doctor. It was not long after this when she had occasion for her handkerchief, which, upon the first opening, discovered among the plaits of it the figure of the doctor. Upon this my friend Will, who loves raillery, told her, that if he was in Mr. Truelove’s |. for that was the name of her husand) he should be made as uncasy by a handkerchief as ever Othello was. “I am afraid,” said she, “Mr. Honeycomb, you are a tory: tell me truly, are you a friend to the doctor, or not?” Will, instead of making her a reply, smiled in her face (for indeed she was very pretty) and told her, that one of her patches was dropping off.

* The name of Dr. T. Oates is here substituted for that of Dr. Sacheverell, who is the real person meant.

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