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arose very much from the circumstances of my own life, who am a soldier, and expect every day to receive orders, which will oblige me to leave behind me a wife that is very dear to me, and that very deservedly. She is at present, I am sure, no way below your Asteria for conjugal affection: but I see the behaviour of some wo

death. He tells us soon after, through a small mistake of sorrow for rage, that during the whole action he was so very sorry, that he thinks he could have attacked half a score of the fiercest Mohocks in the excess of his grief. I cannot but look upon it as an unhappy accident, that a man who is so bloody-minded in his affliction was diverted from this fit of outrageous melancholy.men so little suited to the circumstances The valour of this gentleman in his distress brings to one's memory the Knight of the sorrowful Countenance, who lays about him at such an unmerciful rate in an old romance. I shall readily grant him that his soul, as he himself says, would have made a very ridiculous figure, had it quitted the body, and descended to the poetical shades, in such an encounter.

wherein my wife and I shall soon be, that it is with a reluctance, I never knew before, I am going to my duty. What puts me to present pain is the example of a young lady, whose story you shall have as well as I can give it you. Hortensius, an officer of good rank in his majesty's ser vice, happened, in a certain part of England, to be brought to a country gentleman's house, where he was received with that more than ordinary welcome with which men of domestic lives entertain such few soldiers whom a military life, from the va

As to his conceit of tacking a tragic head with a comic tail, in order to refresh the audience, it is such a piece of jargon, that I do not know what to make of it." The elegant writer makes a very sud-riety of adventures, has not rendered overden transition from the playhouse to the church, and from thence to the gallows.

As for what relates to the church, he is of opinion that these epilogues have given occasion to those merry jigs from the organloft, which have dissipated those good thoughts and dispositions he has found in himself, and the rest of the pew, upon the singing of two staves culled out by the judicious and diligent clerk.

He fetches his next thought from Tyburn: and seems very apprehensive lest there should happen any innovations in the tragedies of his friend Paul Lorrain.

In the mean time, sir, this gloomy writer, who is so mightily scandalized at a gay epilogue after a serious play, speaking of the fate of those unhappy wretches who are condemned to suffer an ignominious death by the justice of our laws, endeavours to make the reader merry on so improper an occasion, by those poor burlesque expressions of tragical dramas and monthly performances. I am, sir, with great respect, your most obedient, most humble servant, PHILOMEDES.'

X.

No. 342.] Wednesday, April 2, 1712.
Justitiæ partes sunt non violare homines: verecun
diæ, non offendere.
Tull

Justice consists in doing no injury to men: decency, in giving them no offence.

As regard to decency is a great rule of life in general, but more especially to be consulted by the female world, I cannot overlook the following letter, which describes an egregious offender.

'MR. SPECTATOR,-I was this day looking over your papers, and reading, in that of December the 6th, with great delight, the amiable grief of Asteria for the absence of her husband; it threw me into a great deal of reflection I cannot say but this

bearing, but humane, easy, and agreeable. Hertensius staid here some time, and had easy access at all hours, as well as unavoidable conversation, at some parts of the day, with the beautiful Sylvana, the gentleman's daughter. People who live in cities are wonderfully struck with every little country abode they see when they take the air; and it is natural to fancy they could live in every neat cottage (by which they pass) much happier than in their present circumstances. The turbulent way of life which Hortensius was used to, made him reflect with much satisfaction on all the advantages of a sweet retreat one day; and, among the rest, you will think it not improbable it might enter into his thought, that such a woman as Sylvana would consummate the happiness. The world is so debauched with mean considerations, that Hortensius knew it would be received as an act of generosity, if he asked for a woman of the highest merit, without further questions, of a parent who had nothing to add to her personal qualifications. The wedding was celebrated at her father's house. When that was over, the generous husband did not proportion his provision for her to the circumstances of her fortune, but considered his wife as his darling, his pride, and his vanity; or, rather, that it was in the woman he had chosen that a with an excuse, and therefore adorned her man of sense could show pride or vanity did not, however, omit to admonish her, with rich habits and valuable jewels. He that he did his very utmost in this; that it was an ostentation he could not be guilty of but to a woman he had so much pleasure in, desiring her to consider it as such; and begged of her also to take these matters rightly, and believe the gems, the gowns, the laces, would still become her better, if her air and behaviour was such, that it might appear she dressed thus rather in compliance to his humour that way, than

out of any value she herself had for the tri-
fles. To this lesson, too hard for a woman,
Hortensius added, that she must be sure to
stay with her friends in the country till his
return. As soon as Hortensius departed,
Sylvana saw in her looking-glass, that the
love he conceived for her was wholly owing
to the accident of seeing her; and she was
convinced it was only her misfortune the
rest of mankind had not beheld her, or men
of much greater quality and merit had con-
tended for one so genteel, though bred in
obscurity; so very witty, though never ac-
quainted with court or town. She there-
fore resolved not to hide so much excel-
lence from the world; but, without any
regard to the absence of the most generous
man alive, she is now the gayest lady about
this town, and has shut out the thoughts of
her husband, by a constant retinue of the
vainest young fellows this age has pro-
duced; to entertain whom, she squanders
away all Hortensius is able to supply her
with, though that supply is purchased with No. 343.] Thursday, April 3, 1712.
no less difficulty than the hazard of his
life."

addition to what is truly commendable,
where can this end, but as it frequently
does, in their placing all their industry,
pleasure, and ambition, on things which
will naturally make the gratifications of
life last, at best, no longer than youth and
good fortune? When we consider the least
ill consequence, it can be no less than look-
ing on their own condition, as years ad-
vance, with a disrelish of life, and falling
into contempt of their own persons, or being
the derision of others: But when they con-
sider themselves as they ought, no other
than an additional part of the species (for
their own happiness and comfort, as well
as that of those for whom they were born,)
their ambition to excel will be directed ac-
cordingly; and they will in no part of their
lives want opportunities of being shining
ornaments to their fathers, husbands, bro-
thers, or children.

You

'Now, Mr. Spectator, would it not be a work becoming your office, to treat this criminal as she deserves? You should give it the severest reflections you can. should tell women, that they are more accountable for behaviour in absence, than after death. The dead are not dishonoured by their levities; the living may return, and be laughed at by empty fops, who will not fail to turn into ridicule the good man, who is so unseasonable as to be still alive, and come and spoil good company, I am, sir, your most obedient humble servant.'

Errat, et illinc

Huc venit, hinc illuc, et quoslibet occupat artus
Spiritus; eque feris humana in corpora transit,
Inque feras noster-

T.

Ovid. Met. Lib. xv. 165.
-All things are but alter'd; nothing dies;
And here and there the unbody'd spirit flies,
By time, or force, or sickness, dispossess'd,
And lodges, where it lights, in man or beast.

Dryden.

WILL HONEYCOMB, who loves to show upon occasion all the little learning he has picked up, told us yesterday at the club, that he thought there might be a great deal said for the transmigration of souls; and that the eastern parts of the world believed in that doctrine to this day. 'Sir Paul Rycaut,' says he, gives us an account of several well-disposed Mahometans that purchase the freedom of any little bird they see confined to a cage, and think they merit as much by it as we should do here by ransoming any of our countrymen from their captivity at Algiers. You must know,' says Will, the reason is, because they consider every animal as a brother or sister in disguise; and therefore think themselves obliged to extend their charity to them, though under such mean circumstances. They'll tell you,' says Will, 'that the soul of a man, when he dies, immediately passes into the body of another man, or of some brute, which he resembled in his humour, or his fortune, when he was one of us.'

All strictness of behaviour is so unmercifully laughed at in our age, that the other much worse extreme is the more common folly. But let any woman consider, which of the two offences a husband would the more easily forgive, that of being less entertaining than she could to please company, or raising the desires of the whole room to his disadvantage; and she will easily be able to form her conduct. We have indeed carried women's characters too much into public life, and you shall see them now-adays affect a sort of fame: but I cannot help venturing to disoblige them for their service, by telling them, that the utmost of a woman's character is contained in domestic life; she is blameable or praiseworthy according as her carriage affects the house of As I was wondering what this profusion her father or her husband. All she has to of learning would end in, Will told us, that do in this world, is contained within the Jack Freelove, who was a fellow of whim, duties of a daughter, a sister, a wife, and a made love to one of those ladies who throw mother. All these may be well performed, away all their fondness on parrots, monkeys though a lady should not be the very finest and lap-dogs. Upon going to pay her a visit woman at an opera or an assembly. They one morning, he writ a very pretty epistle are likewise consistent with a moderate share of wit, a plain dress, and a modest air. But when the very brains of the sex are turned, and they place their ambition on circumstances, wherein to excel is no

upon this hint. Jack,' says he, 'was conducted into the parlour, where he diverted himself for some time with her favourite monkey, which was chained in one of the windows; till at length observing a pen and

ink lie by him, he writ the following letter to his mistress in the person of the monkey, and upon her not coming down so soon as he expected, left it in the window, and went about his business.

The lady soon after coming into the parlour and seeing her monkey look upon a paper with great earnestness, took it up, and to this day is in some doubt,' says Will, whether it was written by Jack or the monkey.'

cessful in two or three chases, he gave me such a confounded gripe in his anger that I died of it.

In my next transmigration, I was again set upon two legs, and became an Indian tax-gatherer; but having been guilty of great extravagances, and being married to an expensive jade of a wife, I ran so cursedly in debt, that I durst not show my head. I could no sooner step out of my house but I was arrested by somebody or other that lay in wait for me. As I ventured abroad one 'MADAM,-Not having the gift of speech, night in the dusk of the evening, I was taken I have a long time waited in vain for an op-up and hurried into a dungeon, where I died portunity of making myself known to you; a few months after. and having at present the convenience of My soul then entered into a flying-fish, pen, ink, and paper, by me, I gladly take and in that state led a most melancholy life the occasion of giving you my history in for the space of six years. Several fishes writing, which I could not do by word of of prey pursued me when I was in the mouth. You must know, madam, that water; and if I betook myself to my wings, about a thousand years ago I was an In- it was ten to one but I had a flock of birds dian brachman, and versed in all those aiming at me. As I was one day flying mysterious secrets which your European amidst a fleet of English ships, I observed philosopher, called Pythagoras, is said to a huge sea-gull whetting his bill, and hohave learned from our fraternity. I had so vering just over my head; upon my dipping ingratiated myself, by my great skill in the into the water to avoid him, I fell into the Occult sciences, with a demon whom I used mouth of a monstrous shark, that swallowed to converse with, that he promised to grant me down in an instant. me whatever I should ask of him. I desired that my soul might never pass into the body of a brute creature; but this, he told me, was not in his power to grant me. I then begged, that, into whatever creature I should chance to transmigrate, I should still retain my memory, and be conscious that I was the same person who lived in different animals. This, he told me, was in his power, and accordingly promised, on the word of a demon, that he would grant me what I desired. From that time forth, I lived so unblameably, that I was made president of a college of brachmans, an office which I discharged with great integrity until the day of my death.

'I was some years afterwards, to my great surprise, an eminent banker in Lombard-street; and, remembering how I had formerly suffered for want of money, became so very sordid and avaricious, that the whole town cried shame of me. I was a miserable little old fellow to look upon; for I had in a manner starved myself, and was nothing but skin and bone when I died.

I was afterwards very much troubled and amazed to find myself dwindled into an emmet. I was heartily concerned to make so insignificant a figure, and did not know but some time or other I might be reduced to a mite, if I did not mend my manners. I therefore applied myself with great diligence to the offices that were allotted to me, and was generally looked upon as the notablest ant in the whole mole-hill. I was at last picked up as I was groaning under a burden, by an unlucky cock-sparrow, that lived in the neighbourhood, and had before made great depredations upon our commonwealth.

"I was then shuffled into another human body, and acted my part so well in it, that Į I became first minister to a prince who reigned upon the banks of the Ganges. I here lived in great honour for several years, but by degrees lost all the innocence of the brachman, being obliged to rifle and oppress the people to enrich my sovereign; till at length I became so odious, that my 'I then bettered my condition a little, and master, to recover his credit with his sub-lived a whole summer in the shape of a jects, shot me through the heart with an bee; but being tired with the painful and arrow, as I was one day addressing myself penurious life I had undergone in my two to him at the head of his army. last transmigrations, I fell into the other extreme, and turned drone. As I one day headed a party to plunder a hive, we were received so warmly by the swarm which defended it, that we were most of us left dead upon the spot.

Upon my next remove, I found myself in the woods under the shape of a jackal, and soon listed myself in the service of a lion. I used to yelp near his den about midnight, which was his time of rousing and seeking after prey. He always followed me in the rear, and when I had run down a fat buck, a wild goat, or a hare, after he had feasted very plentifully upon it himself, would now and then throw me a bone that was but half-picked, for my encouragement; but, upon my being unsuc

"I might tell you of many other transmigrations which I went through: how I was a town-rake, and afterwards did penance in a bay gelding for ten years; as also how I was a tailor, a shrimp, and a tom-tit. In the last of these my shapes, I was shot in the Christmas holidays by a young jacka

napes, who would needs try his new gun

upon me.

But I shall pass over these and several other stages of life, to remind you of the young beau who made love to you about six years since. You may remember, madam, how he masked, and danced, and sung, and played a thousand tricks to gain you; and how he was at last carried off by a cold that he got under your window one night in a serenade. I was that unfortunate young fellow to whom you were then so cruel. Not long after my shifting that unlucky body, I found myself upon a hill in Ethiopia, where I lived in my present grotesque shape, till I was caught by a servant of the English factory, and sent over into Great Britain. I need not inform you how I came into your hands. You see, madam, this is not the first time that you have had me in a chain: I am, however, very happy in this my captivity, as you often bestow on me those kisses and caresses which I would have given the world for when I was a man. I hope this discovery of my person will not tend to my disadvantage, but that you will still continue your accustomed favours to your most devoted humble servant,

in his way, and withal so very merry during the whole entertainment, that he insensibly betrayed me to continue his competitor, which in a little time concluded in a complete victory over my rival; after which, by way of insult, I ate a considerable proportion beyond what the spectators thought me obliged in honour to do. The effect, however, of this engagement, has made me resolve never to eat more for renown; and I have, pursuant to this resolution, compounded three wagers I had depending on the strength of my stomach, which happened very luckily, because it had been stipulated in our articles either to play or pay. How a man of common sense could be thus engaged is hard to determine; but the occasion of this is, to desire you to inform several gluttons of my acquaintance, who look on me with envy, that they had best moderate their ambition in time, lest infamy or death attend their success. I forgot to tell you, sir, with what unspeakable pleasure I received the acclamations and applause of the whole board, when I had almost eat my antagonist into convulsions. It was then that I returned his mirth upon him with such success, as he was hardly able to swallow, though prompted by a desire of fame, and a passionate fond'P. S. I would advise your little shock-ness for distinction. I had not endeavoured dog to keep out of my way; for as I look upon him to be the most formidable of my rivals, I may chance one time or other to give him such a snap as he won't like.'

'PUGG.'

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to excel so far, had not the company been so loud in their approbation of my victory. I don't question but the same thirst after glory has often caused a man to drink quarts without taking breath, and prompted men to many other as difficult enterprises: which, if otherwise pursued, might turn very much to a man's advantage. This ambition of mine was indeed extravagantly pursued; however, I cannot help observing, that you hardly ever see a man commended for a good stomach, but he immediately falls to eating more, (though he had before dined,) as well to confirm the person that commended him in his good opinion of him, as to convince any other at the table, who may have been unattentive enough not to have done justice to his character. I am, sir, your humble servant,

'EPICURE MAMMON.'

MR. SPECTATOR,-I think it has not yet fallen into your way to discourse on little ambition, or the many whimsical ways men fall into to distinguish themselves among their acquaintance. Such observations, well pursued, would make a pretty history of low life. I myself am got into a great reputation, which arose (as most extraordinary occurrences in a man's life seem 'MR. SPECTATOR,-I have wrote to you to do,) from a mere accident. I was some three or four times, to desire you would days ago unfortunately engaged among a take notice of an impertinent custom the set of gentlemen, who esteem a man accord- women, the fine women, have lately fallen ing to the quantity of food he throws down into, of taking snuff. This silly trick is atat a meal. Now I, who am ever for dis-tended with such a coquette air in some tinguishing myself according to the notions of superiority which the rest of the company entertain, ate so immoderately, for their applause, as had like to have cost me my life. What added to my misfortune was, that having naturally a good stomach, and having lived soberly for some time, my Dody was as well prepared for this contention as if it had been by appointment. I had quickly vanquished every glutton in company but one who was such a prodigy VOL. II. 7

ladies, and such a sedate masculine one in others, that I cannot tell which most to complain of: but they are to me equally disagreeable. Mrs. Santer is so impatient of being without it, that she takes it as often as she does salt at meals: and as she affects a wonderful case and negligence in all her manner, an upper lip mixed with snuff and the sauce, is what is presented to the observation of all who have the honour to eat with her. The pretty creature, her

So spake our sire, and by his countenance seem'd
Ent ring on studious thoughts abtruse; which Eve
Perceiving, where she sat retir'd in sight,
With lowliness majestic from her seat,
And grace that won who saw to wish her stay.
Rose, and went forth among her fruits and flowers,
To visit how they prosper'd, bud and bloom,
Her nursery: they at her coming sprung.
And, touch'd by her fair tendance, gladlier grew,
Yet went she not, as not with such discourse,
Delighted, or not capable her ear

Of what was high: such pleasure she reserv'd,
Adam relating, she sole auditress;
Her husband the relator she prefer'd
Before the angel, and of him to ask
Chose rather he, she knew, would intermix
Grateful digressions, and solve high dispute
With conjugal caresses; from his lip
Not words alone pleas'd her. O, when meet now
Such pairs, in love and mutual honour join`d!

niece, does all she can to be as disagreeable | book, which is filled with Adam's account as her aunt; and if she is not as offensive to of his passion and esteem for Eve, would the eye, she is quite as much to the ear, have been improper for her hearing, and and makes up all she wants in a confident has therefore devised very just and beautiair, by a nauseous rattle of the nose, when ful reasons for her retiring: the snuff is delivered, and the fingers make the stops and closes on the nostrils. This, perhaps, is not a very courtly image in speaking of ladies; that is very true: but where arises the offence? Is it in those who commit, or those who observe it? As for my part, I have been so extremely disgusted with this filthy physic hanging on the lip, that the most agreeable conversation, or person, has not been able to make up for it. As to those who take it for no other end but to give themselves occasion for pretty action, or to fill up little intervals of discourse, I can bear with them; but then they must not use it when another is speaking, who ought to be heard with too much respect, to admit of offering at that time from hand to hand the snuff-box. But Flavilla is so far taken with her behaviour in this kind, that she pulls out her box (which is indeed full of good Brazil,) in the middle of the sermon; and, to show she has the audacity of a well-bred woman, she offers it to the men as well as to the women who sit near her: but since by this time all the world knows she has a fine hand, I am in hopes she may give herself no further trouble in this matter. On Sunday was sevennight, when they came about for the offering, she gave her charity with a very good air, but at the same time asked the church-warden if he would take a pinch. Pray, sir, think of these things in time, and you will oblige, your humble servant,' T.

ry

No. 345.] Saturday, April 5, 1712.

The angel's returning a doubtful answer to Adam's inquiries, was not only proper for the moral reason which the poet assigns, but because it would have been highly absurd to have given the sanction of an archangel to any particular system of philosophy. The chief points in the Ptolemaic and Copernican hypotheses are described with great conciseness and perspicuity, and at the same time dressed in very pleasing and poetical images.

Adam, to detain the angel, enters afterwards upon his own history, and relates to him the circumstances in which he found himself upon his creation; as also his conversation with his Maker, and his first meeting with Eve. There is no part of the poem more apt to raise the attention of the reader than this discourse of our great ancestor; as nothing can be more surprising and delightful to us, than to hear the senti ments that arose in the first man, while he was yet new and fresh from the hands of his Creator. The poet has interwoven every A creature of a more exalted kind thing which is delivered upon this subject Was wanting yet, and then was man design'd: in holy writ with so many beautiful imagiConscious of thought, of more capacious breast, For empire form'd, and fit to rule the rest.—Dryden. nations of his own, that nothing can be conceived more just and more natural than this THE accounts which Raphael gives of whole episode. As our author knew this subthe battle of angels, and the creation of the ject could not but be agreeable to his reader, world, have in them those qualifications he would not throw it into the relation of which the critics judge requisite to an epi-the six days' work, but reserved it for a sode. They are nearly related to the principal action, and have a just connexion with the fable.

Sanctius his animal, mentisque capacius altæ
Deerat adhuc, et quod dominari in cætera posset,
Natus homo est.—
Ovid. Met. Lib. i. 76.

The eighth book opens with a beautiful description of the impression which this discourse of the archangel made on cur first parents. Adam afterwards, by a very natural curiosity, inquires concerning the motions of those celestial bodies which make the most glorious appearance among the six days' work. The poet here, with a great deal of art, represents Eve as withdrawing from this part of their conversation, to amusements more suitable to her sex. He well knew that the episode in this

distinct episode, that he might have an op-
portunity of expatiating upon it more at
large. Before I enter upon this part of the
poem, I cannot but take notice of two shin-
ing passages in the dialogue between Adam
and the angel. The first is that wherein
our ancestor gives an account of the plea-
sure he took in conversing with him, which
contains a very noble moral.

For while I sit with thee, I seem in heaven,
And sweeter thy discourse is to my ear
Than fruits of palm-trees (pleasantest to thirst
And hunger both, from labour) at the hour
Of sweet repast; they satiate and soon fill,
Though pleasant; but thy words, with grace divine
Imbued, bring to their sweetness no satiety.

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