for being in company with him, because he heard he turned his abfent friends into ridicule. And upon lady Autumn's difputing with him about fomething that happened at the Revolution, he replied with a very angry tone, Pray, madam, give me leave to know more of a thing in which I was actually concerned, than you who were then in your nurse's arms.

K

NO. 209.

THURSDAY, AUGUST 10, 1710.

From my own Apartment, August 9.

A NOBLE painter, who has an ambition to draw a biftory piece, has defired me to give him a fubject, on which the may fhew the utmost force of his art and genius. For this purpose, I have pitched upon that remarkable incident between Alexander the Great and his phyfician. This prince, in the midst of his conquefts in Perfia, was seized by a violent fever; and, according to the account we have of his vaft mind, his thoughts were more employed about his recovery as it regarded the war, than as it concerned his own life. He profeffed a flow method was worse than death to him; because it was, what he more dreaded, an interruption of his glory. He defired a dangerous, so it might be a speedy remedy. During this impatience of the king, it is well known that Darius had offered an immenfe fum to any who should take away his life. But Philippus, the most esteemed and most knowing of his phyficians, promised, that within three days time he would prepare a medicine for him, which should reftore him more expeditiously than could be imagined. Immediately after this engagement, Alexander receives a letter from the most confiderable of his captains, with intelligence that Darius had bribed Philippus to poison him. Every circumstance imaginable favoured this fufpicion; but this monarch, who did nothing but in an extraordinary manner, concealed the letter; and, while the medicine was preparing, spent

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all his thoughts upon his behaviour in this important incident. From his long foliloquy, he came to this refolution: Alexander must not lie here alive to be oppreffed by his enemy. I will not believe my phyfician guilty; or, I will perith rather by his guilt, than my own diffidence.'

At the appointed hour, Philippus enters with the potion. One cannot but form to onefelf on this occafion the encounter of their eyes, the refolution in those of the patient, and the benevolence in the countenance of the phyfician. The hero raised himself in his bed, and, holding the letter in one hand, and the potion in the other, drank the medicine. It will exercife my friend's pencil and brain to place this action in its proper beauty. A prince obferving the features of a fufpected traitor, after having drank the poifon be offered him, is a circumstance fo full of paffion, that it will require the highest strength of his imagination to conceive it, much more to exprefs it. But as painting is eloquence and poetry in mechanism, I fhall raife his ideas, by reading with him the finest draughts of the paffions concerned in this circumftance, from the most excellent poets and orators. The confidence which Alexander affumes from the air of Philippus's face as he is reading his accufation, and the generous difdain which is to rife in the features of a falfely accused man, are principally to be regarded. In this particular he muft heighten his thoughts, by reflecting, that he is not drawing only an innocent man traduced, but a man zealoufly affected to his person and fafety, full of refentment for being thought falfe. How fhall we contrive to express the highest admiration, mingled with difdain? How thall we in ftrokes of a pencil fay, what Philippus did to his prince on this occafion? Sir, my life never depended on yours more than it does now. Without knowing this fecret, I prepared the potion, which you have taken as what concerned Philippus no less than Alexander; and there is nothing new in this adventure, but that it makes me ftill more admire the generofity and confidence of my mafter.' Alexander took him by the hand and faid, • Philippus, I am confident you had rather I had any other way to have manifested the faith I have in you, than a

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cafe which fo nearly concerns me: and in gratitude I now affure you, I am anxious for the effect of your medicine, more for your fake than my own.'

My painter is employed by a man of fenfe and wealth to furnish him a gallery; and I fhall join with my friend in the defigning part. It is the great ufe of pictures to raife in our minds either agreeable ideas of our absent friends; or high images of eminent perfonages. But the latter defign is, methinks, carried on in a very improper way; for to fill a room full of battle-pieces, pompous hiftories of fieges, and a tall hero alone in a crowd of infignificant figures about him, is of no confequence to private men. But to place before our eyes great and illuftrious men in those parts and circumftances of life, wherein their behaviour may have an effect upon our 3 minds; as being fuch as we partake with them merely as they were men: such as these, I fay, may be just and ufeful ornaments of an elegant apartment. In this collection therefore that we are making, we will not have the battles, but the fentiments of Alexander. The affair we were juft now speaking of has circumftances of the higheft nature; and yet their grandeur has little to do with his fortune. If, by obferving such a piece, as that of his taking a bow} of poifon with fo much magnanimity, a man, the next time he has a fit of the spleen, is lefs froward to his friend or his fervants; thus far is fome improvement.

I have frequently thought, that if we had many draughts which were hiftorical of certain paffions, and had the true figure of the great men we fee tranfported by them, it would be of the moft folid advantage imaginable. To confider this mighty man on one occafion, adminiftering to the wants of a poor foldier benumbed with cold, with the greatest humanity; at another, barbarously stabbing a faithful officer: at one time, fo generously chafte and virtuous as to give his captive Statira her liberty; at another, burning a town at the inftigation of Thais. Thefer changes in the fame perfon are what would be more beneficial leffons of morality, than the feveral revolutions in any great man's fortune. There are but one or two in an age, to whom the pompous incidents of his life can be exemplary;

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exemplary; but I, or any man, may be as fick, as goodnatured, as compaffionate, and as angry, as Alexander the Great. My purpose in all this chat is, that fo excellent a furniture may not for the future have fo romantic a turn, but allude to incidents which come within the fortunes of the ordinary race of men. I do not know but it is by the force of this fenfelefs cuftom, that people are drawn in postures they would not for half they are worth be surprised in. The unparalleled fierceness of fome rural efquires drawn in red, or in armour, who never dreamed to destroy any thing above a fox, is a common and ordiDary offence of this kind. But I fhall give an account of our whole gallery on another occafion.

NO. 210.

SATU

SATURDAY, AUGUST 12, 1710.

Sheer-lane, August 11.

I DID myself the honour this day to make a visit to a lady of quality, who is one of those that are ever railing at the vices of the age; but mean only one vice, because it is the only vice they are not guilty of. She went so far as to fall foul on a young woman, who has had imputations; but whether they were juft or not, no one knows but herself. However that is, the is in her prefent behaviour modeft, humble, pious, and difcreet. I thought it became me to bring this cenforious lady to reafon, and let her fee, fhe was a much more vicious woman than the perfon she spoke of.

Madam, faid I, you are very fevere to this poor young woman, for a trefpafs which I believe Heaven has forgiven her, and for which, you fee, fhe is for ever out of countenance. Nay, Mr. Bickerstaff, fhe interrupted, if you at this time of day contradict people of virtue, and ftand up for ill women- No, no, madam, faid I, not fo faft; fhe is reclaimed, and I fear you never will be. Nay, nay, madam, do not be in a paffion; but let me tell you-what

you ~

You are indeed as good as your neighbours; you are. but that is being very bad. You are a woman at the head of a family, and lead a perfect town-lady's life. You go on your own way, and confult nothing but your glafs. What imperfections indeed you see there, you immediately mend as fast as you can. You may do the fame by the faults I tell you of; for they are much more in your power to correct.

You are to know then, that you visiting ladies, that carry your virtue from houfe to house with so much prattle in each other's applaufe, and triumph over other people's faults, I grant you, have but the fpeculation of vice in your own converfations; but promote the practice of it in all others you have to do with.

As for you, madam, your time paffes away in dreffing, eating, fleeping, and praying. When you rife in a morning, I grant you an hour spent very well; but you come out to drefs in fo froward an humour, that the poor girl, who attends you, curfes her very being in that the is your fervant, for the peevish things you fay to her. When this poor creature is put into a way, that good or evil are regarded but as they relieve her from the hours fhe has and muft pafs with you; the next you have to do with is your coachman and footmen. They convey your ladyfhip to church. While you are praying there, they are curfing, fwearing, and drinking in an alehoufe. During the time alfo which your ladyfhip fets apart for Heaven, you are to know, that your cook is fweating and fretting in preparation for your dinner. Soon after your meal you make vifits, and the whole world, that belongs to you, fpeak all the ill of you which you are repeating of others. You fee, madam, whatever way you go, all about you are in a very broad one. The morality of these people it is your proper bufinefs to inquire into; and until you reform them, you had beft let your equals alone; otherwise, if I allow you, you are not vicious, you must allow me you are not virtuous.

I took my leave, and received at my coming home the following letter.

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Mr.