'I, George Gloom, having for a long time been troubled with the spleen, and being advised by my friends to put myself into a course of Steele, did for that end make use of the remedies conveyed to me several mornings, in short letters, from the hands of the invisible doctor. They were marked at the bottom Nathaniel Henroost, Alice Threadneedle, Rebecca Nettletoy, Tom Loveless, Mary Meanwell, Thomas Smoky, Anthony Freeman, Tom Meggot, Rustic Sprightly, &c. which have had so good an effect upon me, that I now find myself cheerful, lightsome, and easy; and therefore do recommend them to all such as labour under the same distemper.'

have read it with the same attention I have done, will think there is nothing to be objected against it. I have however drawn up some additional arguments to strengthen the opinion which you have there delivered, having endeavoured to go to the bottom of the matter, which you may either publish or suppress as you think fit.

Horace, in my motto, says, that all men are vicious, and that they differ from one another only as they are more or less & Boileau has given the same account of our wisdom, as Horace has of our virtue: Tous les hommes sont fous, et malgre tous leurs snuts, Ne different entre eux, que de plus et de mOURS." "All men," says he, "are fools, and, in Not having room to insert all the adver-spite of their endeavours to the contrary, tisements which were sent me, I have only differ from one another only as they re picked out some few from the third vo- more or less so." lume, reserving the fourth for another opportunity.

0.

Na 548.] Friday, November 28, 1712.

-Vitiis nemo sine nascitur, optimus ille
Qui minimis urgetur. Hor, Sat. ii. Lib. 1. 68.
There's none bat has some fault; and he's the best,
Most virtuous he that's spotted with the least.

Two or three of the old Greek poets have given the same turn to a sentence which describes the happiness of man in this life:

* Το ζην αλύπως, ανδρός εστιν εντάχτες. Τ That man is most happy who is the least miserable.” 'It will not perhaps be unentertaining to the polite reader to observe how these three beautiful sentences are formed upon difer ent subjects, by the same way of thinking; but I shall return to the first of them.

Creech. Nov. 27, 1712. 'MR. SPECTATOR,-I have read this "Our goodness being of a comparative day's paper with a great deal of pleasure, and not an absolute nature, there is none and could send you an account of several who in strictness can be called a virtuous elixirs and antidotes in your third volume, man. Every one has in him a natural alloy, which your correspondents have not taken though one may be fuller of dress than annotice of in their advertisements; and at the other: for this reason I cannot think it right same time must own to you, that I have to introduce a perfect or a faultless mall seldom seen a shop furnished with such a upon the stage; not only because such variety of medicaments, and in which character is improper to move compassion, there are fewer soporifics. The several but because there is no such thing in mavehicles you have invented for conveying ture. This might probably be one reason your unacceptable truths to us, are what I why the Spectator in one of his papers took most particularly admire, as I am afraid notice of that late invented term called they are secrets which will die with you. poetical justice, and the wrong notions into I do not find that any of our critical essays which it has led some tragic writers The are taken notice of in this paper, notwith-most perfect man has vices enough to draw standing I look upon them to be excellent down punishments upon his head, and ta cleansers of the brain, and could venture to justify Providence in regard to any mise superscribe them with an advertisement ries that may befall him. For this reason which I have lately seen in one of your I cannot think but that the instruction and newspapers, wherein there is an account moral are much finer, where a man who is given of a sovereign remedy for restoring virtuous in the main of his character s the taste to all such persons whose palates into distress, and sinks under the blows of have been vitiated by distempers, unwhole- fortune at the end of a tragedy, than when some food, or any the like occasions. But he is represented as happy and triumphto let fall the allusion, notwithstanding your ant. Such an example corrects the inse criticisms, and particularly the candour lence of human nature, softens the mind of which you have discovered in them, are the beholder with sentiments of pity and not the least taking part of your works, I compassion, comforts him under his ow find your opinion concerning poetical jus- private affliction, and teaches him not to tice, as it is expressed in the first part or judge of men's virtues by their success ! your fortieth Spectator, is controverted by cannot think of one real hero in all antisome eminent critics; and as you now quity so far raised above human infirmites. seem, to our great grief of heart, to be that he might not be very naturally repre winding up your bottoms, I hoped you sented in a tragedy as plunged in mistr would have enlarged a little upon that sub-tunes and calamities. The poet may ject. It is indeed but a single paragraph find out some prevailing passion or indisin your works, and I believe those who cretion in his character, and show it in

such a manner as will sufficiently acquit the gods of any injustice in his sufferings. For, as Horace observes in my text, the best man is faulty, though not in so great a degree as those whom we generally call vicious men.

minal that they can have no claim or pretence to happiness. The best of men may deserve punishment, but the worst of men cannot deserve happiness.

Quamvis digressu veteris confusus amici,
Laudo tamen.

Juv. Sat. iii. 1.
Though griev'd at the departure of my friend,
His purpose of retiring 1 commend.

If such a strict poetical justice as some No. 549.] Saturday, November 29, 1712. gentlemen insist upon was to be observed in this art, there is no manner of reason why it should not extend to heroic poetry as well as tragedy. But we find it so little observed in Homer, that his Achilles is placed in the greatest point of glory and success, though his character is morally vicious, and only poetically good, if I may use the phrase of our modern critics. The Eneid is filled with innocent, unhappy persons. Nisus and Euryalus, Lausus and Pallas, come all to unfortunate ends. The poet takes notice in particular, that, in the sacking of Troy, Ripheus fell, who was the most just man among the Trojans.

-Cadit et Ripheus justissimus unus, Qui fuit in Teucris, et servantissimus æqui: Diis aliter visum est——————

En. ii. 427.

Ibid. ver. 429.

I BELIEVE most people begin the world with a resolution to withdraw from it into a serious kind of solitude or retirement when they have made themselves easy in it. Our unhappiness is, that we find out some excuse or other for deferring such our good resolutions until our intended retreat is cut off by death. But among all kinds of people, there are none who are so hard to part with the world as those who are grown old in the heaping up of riches. Their minds are so warped with their constant attention to gain, that it is very difficult for them to And that Pantheus could neither be pre- give their souls another bent, and convert served by his transcendent piety, nor by the them towards those objects, which though holy fillets of Apollo, whose priest he was. they are proper for every stage of life, are -Nec te tua plurima, Pantheu, so more especially for the last. Horace Labentem pietas, nec Apol'inis infula texit. describes an old usurer as so charmed with the pleasures of a country life, that in order I might here mention the practice of an-to make a purchase he called in all his cient tragic poets, both Greek and Latin; but as this particular is touched upon in the paper above-mentioned, I shall pass it over in silence. I could produce passages out of Aristotle in favour of my opinion; and if in one place he says that an absolutely virtuous man, should not be represented as unhappy, this does not justify any one who shall think fit to bring in an absolutely virtuous man upon the stage. Those who are acquainted with that author's way of writing, know very well that, to take the whole extent of his subject into his divisions of it, he often makes use of such cases as are imaginary, and not reducible to practice. He himself declares that such tragedies as ended unhappily, bore away the prize in theatrical contentions, from those which ended happily; and for the fortieth speculation, which I am now considering, as it has given reasons why these are more apt to please an audience, so it only proves that these are generally preferable to the other, though at the same time it affirms that many excellent tragedies have and may be written in both kinds.

'I shall conclude with observing, that though the Spectator above-mentioned is so far against the rule of poetical justice, as to affirm that good men may meet with an unhappy catastrophe in tragedy, it does not say that ill men may go off unpunished. The reasons for this distinction is very plain, namely, because the best of men are vicious enough to justify Providence for any misfortunes and afflictions which may befall them, but there are many men só cri

money; but what was the event of it? Why, in a very few days after he put it out again. I am engaged in this series of thought by a discourse which I had last week with my worthy friend Sir Andrew Freeport, a man of so much natural eloquence, good sense, and probity of mind, that I always hear him with a particular pleasure. As we were sitting together, being the sole remaining members of our club, Sir Andrew gave me an account of the many busy scenes of life in which he had been engaged, and at the same time reckoned up to me abundance of those lucky hits, which at another time he would have called pieces of good fortune; but in the temper of mind he was then, he termed them mercies, favours of Providence, and blessings upon an honest industry.

Now,' says he, you must know, my good friend, I am so used to consider myself as creditor and debtor, that I often state my accounts after the same manner with regard to heaven and my own soul. In this case, when I look upon the debtor side, I find such innumerable articles, that I want arithmetic to cast them up; but when I look upon the creditor side, I find little more than blank paper. Now, though I am very well satisfied that it is not in my power to balance accounts with my Maker, I am resolved however to turn all my future endeavours that way. You must not therefore be surprised, my friend, if you hear that I am breaking myself to a thoughtful kind of life, and if I meet you no more in this place.'

more

I could not but approve so good a resolu- | finding out a convenient place where I may tion, notwithstanding the loss I shall suffer build an almshouse, which I intend to es by it. Sir Andrew has since explained dow very handsomely for a dozen superhimself to me more at large in the follow- annuated husbandmen. It will be a great ing letter, which is just come to my hands. pleasure to me to say my prayers twice a day with men of my own years, who all of them, as well as myself, may have their thoughts taken up how they shall de rather than how they shall live. I remenber an excellent saying that I learned at school, Finis coronat opus. You know best whether it be in Virgil or in Horace, it is my business to apply it. If your affairs permit you to take the country air with me sometimes, you will find an apartment fitted up for you, and shall be every day etertained with beef or mutton of my ow feeding; fish out of my own ponds; and fruit out of my own gardens. You shail have free egress and regress about my house, without having any questions asked you; and in a word, such a hearty welcome as you may expect from your most sincere friend and humble servant,

'ANDREW FREEPORT."

The club of which I am a member being entirely dispersed, I shall consult my reader next week upon a project relating to the institution of a new one.

0.

No. 550.] Monday, December 1, 1712
Quid dignum tanto feret hic promissor hinte?

'GOOD MR. SPECTATOR,-Notwithstand ing my friends at the club have always rallied me, when I have talked of retiring from business, and repeated to me one of my own savings, that "a merchant has never enough until he has got a little more;" I can now inform you, that there is one in the world who thinks he has enough, and is determined to pass the remainder of his life in the enjoyment of what he has. You know me so well, that I need not tell you I mean, by the enjoyment of my possessions, the making of them useful to the public. As the greatest part of my estate has been hitherto of an unsteady and volatile nature, either tost upon seas or fluctuating in funds, it is now fixed and settled in substantial acres and tenements. I have removed it from the uncertainty of stocks, winds, and waves, and disposed of it in a considerable purchase. This will give me great opportunity of being charitable in my way, that is, in setting my poor neighbours to work, and giving them a comfortable subsistence out of their own industry. My gardens, my fish-ponds, my arable and pasture grounds, shall be my several hospitals, or rather work-houses, in which I propose to maintain a great many indigent persons, who are now starvHor. Ars Poet, ver. 138. ing in my neighbourhood. I have got a In what will all this ostentation end?-RICOR fine spread of improvable lands, and in my own thoughts am already plowing up some SINCE the late dissolution of the club, of them, fencing others; planting woods, whereof I have often declared myself a and draining marshes. In fine, as I have member, there are very many persons who my share in the surface of this island, I am by letters, petitions, and recommendations, resolved to make it as beautiful a spot as put up for the next election. At the same any in her majesty's dominions; at least time I must complain, that several indirect there is not an inch of it which shall not be and underhand practices have been made cultivated to the best advantage, and do its use of upon this occasion. A certain acceutmost for its owner. As in my mercantile try gentleman began to tap upon the first employment I so disposed of my affairs, information he received of Sir Roger's that, from whatever corner of the compass death; when he sent me up word that, ff I the wind blew, it was bringing home one or would get him chosen in the place of the other of my ships; I hope as a husband-deceased, he would present me with a barman to contrive it so, that not a shower of rain or a glimpse of sunshine shall fall upon my estate without bettering some part of it, and contributing to the products of the season. You know it has been hitherto my opinion of life, that it is thrown away when it is not some way useful to others. But when I am riding out by myself, in the fresh air, on the open heath that lies by my house, I find several other thoughts growing up in me. I am now of opinion, that a man of my age may find business enough on himself, by setting his mind in order, preparing it for another world, and reconciling it to the thoughts of death. I must therefore acquaint you, that besides those usual methods of charity, of which I have before spoken, I am at this very instant

rel of the best October I had ever tasted in
my life. The ladies are in great pain to
know whom I intend to elect in the roc
of Will Honeycomb. Some of them indeed
are of opinion that Mr. Honeycomb did not
take sufficient care of their interest in the
club, and are therefore desirous of having
in it hereafter a representative of their own
sex. A citizen who subscribes himself Y.
Z. tells me that he has one-and-twenty
shares in the African company, and offers
to bribe me with the odd one in case be
may succeed Sir Andrew Freeport, which
he thinks would raise the credit of that
fund. I have several letters, dated from
Jenny Man's, by gentlemen who are cantr
dates for captain Sentry's place; and as
many from a coffee-house in St. Paul's

church-yard of such who would fill up the vacancy occasioned by the death of my worthy friend the clergyman, whom I can never mention but with a particular respect.

Having maturely weighed these several particulars, with the many remonstrances that have been made to me on this subject, and considering how invidious an office I shall take upon me if I make the whole election depend upon my single voice, and being unwilling to expose myself to those clamours, which on such an occasion will not

of late found my name in foreign gazettes upon less occasions, I question not but in their next articles from Great Britain they will inform the world, that the Spectator's mouth is to be opened on the twenty-fifth of March next. I may perhaps publish a very useful paper at that time of the proceedings in that solemnity, and of the persons who shall assist at it. But of this more hereafter. O.

fail to be raised against me for partiality, No. 551.] Tuesday, December 2, 1712. injustice, corruption, and other qualities, which my nature abhors, I have formed to myself the project of a club as follows.

I have thoughts of issuing out writs to all and every of the clubs that are established in the cities of London and Westminster, requiring them to choose out of their respective bodies a person of the greatest merit, and to return his name to me before Lady-day, at which time I intend to sit upon business.

By this means I may have reason to hope, that the club over which I shall preside will be the very flower and quintessence of all other clubs. I have communicated this my project to none but a particular friend of mine, whom I have celebrated twice or thrice for his happiness in that kind of wit which is commonly known by the name of a pun. The only objection he makes to it is, that I shall raise up enemies to myself if I act with so regal an air, and that my detractors, instead of giving me the usual title of Spectator, will be apt to call me the King of Clubs.

But to proceed on my intended project: it is very well known that I at first set forth in this work with the character of a silent man; and I think I have so well preserved my taciturnity, that I do not remember to have violated it with three sentences in the space of almost two years. As a monosyllable is my delight, I have made very few excursions, in conversations which I have related, beyond a Yes or a No. By this means my readers have lost many good things which I have had in my heart, though I did not care for uttering them.

Now in order to diversify my character, and to show the world how well I can talk if I have a mind, I have thoughts of being very loquacious in the club which I have now under consideration. But that I may proceed the more regularly in this affair, I design, upon the first meeting of the said club, to have my mouth opened in form; intending to regulate myself in this particular by a certain ritual which I have by me, that contains all the ceremonies which are practised at the opening of the mouth of a cardinal. I have likewise examined the forms which were used of old by Pythagoras, when any of his scholars, after an apprenticeship of silence, was made free of his speech. In the mean time, as I have VOL. II.

42

Sic honor et nomen divinis vatibus atque,
Carminibus venit.-

Hor. Ars Poet. ver. 400.

So ancient is the pedigree of verse, And so divine a poet's function.-Roscommon. 'MR. SPECTATOR,-When men of worthy and excelling geniuses have obliged the world with beautiful and instructive writings, it is in the nature of gratitude that praise should be returned them, as one proper consequent reward of their performances. Nor has mankind ever been so degenerately sunk, but they have made this return, and even when they have not been wrought up by the generous endeavours so as to receive the advantages designed by it. This praise, which arises first in the mouth of particular persons, spreads and lasts according to the merit of authors; and, when it thus meets with a full success, changes its denomination, and is called fame. They, who have happily arrived at this, are, even while they live, inflamed by the acknowledgments of others, and spurred on to new undertakings for the benefit of mankind, notwithstanding the detraction which some abject tempers would cast upon them: but when they decease, their characters being free from the shadow which envy laid them under, begin to shine with the greater splendour; their spirits survive in their works; they are admitted into the highest companies, and they continue pleasing and instructing posterity from age to age. Some of the best gain a character, by being able to show that they are no strangers to them; and others obtain a new warmth to labour for the happiness and ease of mankind, from a reflection upon those honours which are paid to their memories.

The thought of this took me up as I turned over those epigrams which are the remains of several of the wits of Greece, and perceived many dedicated to the fame of those who had excelled in beautiful poetic performances. Wherefore, in pursuance to my thought, I concluded to do something along with them to bring their praises into a new light and language, for the encouragement of those whose modest tempers may be deterred by the fear of envy or detraction from fair attempts, to which their parts might render them equal. You will perceive them as they follow to be conceived in the form of epí

taphs, a sort of writing which is wholly set | particular character. It would be better if, apart for a short-pointed method of praise.