success, to the no small disappointment of our whole female world; but as their constancy and application, in a matter of so great importance, can never be sufficiently commended, so I am glad to find, that in spite of all opposition, they have at length carried their point, of which I received advice by the two following letters: and bid me be sure to follow the directions | tain, that their first attempts were without of my guardian, (the above-mentioned lady,) and I shall never want. The truth of my case is, I suppose, that I was educated for a purpose he did not know he should be unfit for when I came to years. Now, sir, what I ask of you as a casuist, is to tell me how far, in these circumstances, I am innocent, though submissive: he guilty, though impotent? I am, sir, your constant reader, 'PUCELLA.' To the Man called the Spectator. "FRIEND,-Forasmuch as at the birth of thy labour, thou didst promise upon thy word, that letting alone the vanities that do abound, thou wouldest only endeavour to straighten the crooked morals of this cur Babylon, I gave credit to thy fair speeches, and admitted one of thy papers, every day save Sunday, into my house, for the edification of my daughter Tabitha, and to the end that Susanna the wife of my bosom might profit thereby. But, alas! my friend, I find that thou art a liar, and that the truth is not in thee; else why didst thou in a paper which thou didst lately put forth, make mention of those vain coverings for the heads of our females, which thou lovest to liken unto tulips, and which are lately sprung up among us? Nay, why didst thou make mention of them in such a seeming, as if thou didst approve the invention, insomuch that my daughter Tabitha beginneth to wax wanton, and to lust after these foolish vanities? Surely thou dost see with the eyes of the flesh. Verily, therefore, unless thou dost speedily amend, and leave off following thine own imaginations, I will leave off thee. Thy friend, as hereafter thou dost demean thyself, T. HEZEKIAH BROADBRIM.' 'MR. SPECTATOR,-I am so great a lover of whatever is French, that I lately discarded an humble admirer, because he neither spoke that tongue nor drank claret. I have long bewailed in secret the calamities of my sex during the war, in all which time we have laboured under the insupportable inventions of English tire-women, who, though they sometimes copy indifferently well, can never compose with that "goût" they do in France. I was almost in despair of ever more seeing a model from that dear country, when last Sunday I overheard a lady in the next pew to me whisper another, that at the Seven Stars, in King-street, Coventgarden, there was a mademoiselle completely dressed, just come from Paris. 'I was in the utmost impatience during the remaining part of the service, and as soon as ever it was over, having learnt the milliner's "addresse," I went directly to her house in King-street, but was told that the French lady was at a person of quality's in Pall-mall, and would not be back again until very late that night. I was therefore obliged to renew my visit very early this morning, and had then a full view of the dear moppet from head to foot. You cannot imagine, worthy sir, how ridiculously I find we have been trussed up during the war, and how infinitely the French dress excels ours. 'The mantua has no lead in the sleeves, and I hope we are not lighter than the No. 277.] Thursday, January 17, 1711-12. French ladies, so as to want that kind of -fas est et ab hoste doceri. Ovid. Met. Lib. iv. 428. Receive instruction from an enemy. ballast; the petticoat has no whalebone, but sits with an air altogether gallant and degagé: the coiffure is inexpressibly pretty; and, in short, the whole dress has a thousand beauties in it, which I would not have as yet made too public. vant, TERAMINTA.' I PRESUME I need not inform the polite part of my readers, that before our correspondence with France was unhappily I thought fit, however, to give you this interrupted by the war, our ladies had all notice, that you may not be surprised at my their fashions from thence; which the mil-appearing a la mode de Paris on the next liners took care to furnish them with by birth-night. I am, sir, vour humble sermeans of a jointed baby, that came regularly over once a month, habited after the manner of the most eminent toasts in Paris. I am credibly informed, that even in the hottest time of the war, the sex made several efforts, and raised large contributions towards the importation of this wooden mademoiselle. Whether the vessel they sent out was lost or taken, or whether its cargo was seized on by the officers of the custom-house as a piece of contraband goods, I have not yet been able to learn; it is however cer Within an hour after I had read this let ter, I received another from the owner of the puppet. ‘SIR,—On Saturday last, being the 12th instant, there arrived at my house in Kingstreet, Covent-Garden, a French baby for the year 1712. I have taken the utmost care to have her dressed by the most celebrated tire-women and mantua-makers in Paris, and do not find that I have any reason to be sorry for the expense I have been they are now practised at the court of France. at in her clothes and importation: however, as I know no person who is so good a judge of dress as yourself, if you please to call at She added, that she hoped she might demy house in your way to the city, and take pend upon having my encouragement as a view of her, I promise to amend what-soon as it arrived; but as this was a petition ever you shall disapprove in your next of too great importance to be answered expaper, before I exhibit her as a pattern to tempore, I left her without a reply, and the public. I am, sir, your most humble made the best of my way to Will Honeyadmirer, and most obedient servant, comb's lodgings, without whose advice I never communicate any thing to the public of this nature. X. 'BETTY CROSS-STITCH. As I am willing to do any thing in reason -Sermones ego mallem for the service of my country women, and No. 278.] Friday, January 18, 1711-12. had much rather prevent faults than find them, I went last night to the house of the above-mentioned Mrs. Cross-Stitch. As soon as I entered, the maid of the shop, who, I suppose, was prepared for my coming, without asking me any questions, introduced me to the little damsel, and ran away to call her mistress. The puppet was dressed in a cherrycoloured gown and petticoat, with a short working apron over it, which discovered her shape to the most advantage. Her hair was cut and divided very prettily, with several ribands stuck up and down in it. The milliner assured me, that her complexion was such as was worn by all the ladies of the best fashion in Paris. Her head was extremely high, on which subject having long since declared my sentiments, I shall say nothing more to it at present. I was also offended at a small patch she wore on her breast, which I cannot suppose is placed there with any good design. Her necklace was of an immoderate length, being tied before in such a manner, that the two ends hung down to her girdle; but whether these supply the place of kissing-strings in our enemy's country, and whether our British ladies have any occasion for them, I shall leave to their serious consideration. Hor. Ep. i. Lib. 2. 250. I rather choose a low and creeping style. 'MR. SPECTATOR,-SIR,-Your having done considerable services in this great city, by rectifying the disorders of families, and several wives having preferred your advice and directions to those of their husbands, emboldens me to apply to you at this time. I am a shop keeper, and though but a young man, I find by experience that nothing but the utmost diligence both of husband and wife (among trading people) can keep affairs in any tolerable order. My wife at the beginning of our establishment showed herself very assisting to me in my business as much as could lie in her way, and I have reason to believe it was with her inclination: but of late she has got acquainted with a school-man, who values himself for his great knowledge in the Greek tongue. He entertains her frequently in the shop with discourses of the beauties and excellences of that language; and repeats to her several passages out of the Greek poets, wherein he tells her there is unspeakable harmony and agreeable sounds that all other languages are wholly unacquainted with. He has so infatuated her with his jargon, that instead of using her former diligence in the shop, she now neglects the affairs of the house, and is wholly taken up with her tutor in learning by heart scraps of Greek, which she vents upon all occasions. She told me some days ago, that whereas I use some Latin inscriptions in my shop, she advised me with a great deal of concern to have them changed into Greek; it being a language less understood, would be more conformable to the mystery of my profession; that our good friend would be assisting to us in this work; and that a certain faculty As I was taking my leave, the milliner of gentlemen would find themselves so much farther informed me, that with the assist- obliged to me, that they would infallibly ance of a watch-maker, who was her neigh-make my fortune. In short, her frequent bour, and the ingenious Mr. Powel, she had importunities upon this, and other impertialso contrived another puppet, which by nences of the like nature, make me very the help of several little springs to be wound uneasy; and if your remonstrances have no up within it, could move all its limbs, and more effect upon her than mine, I am afraid that she had sent it over to her correspon- I shall be obliged to ruin myself to procure dent in Paris to be taught the various lean-her a settlement at Oxford with her tutor, ings and bendings of the head, the risings for she is already too mad for Bedlam. of the bosom, the courtesy and recovery, Now, sir, you see the danger my family is the gentee! trip, and the agreeable jet, as exposed to, and the likelihood of my wife's After having observed the particulars of her dress, as I was taking a view of it altogether, the shop-maid, who is a pert wench, told me that Mademoiselle had something very curious in the tying of her garters; but as pay a due respect even to a pair of sticks when they are under petticoats, I did not examine into that particular. Upon the whole, I was well enough pleased with the appearance of this gay lady, and the more so because she was not talkative, a quality very rarely to be met with in the rest of her country women. becoming both troublesome and useless, unless her reading herself in your paper may make her reflect. She is so very learned that I cannot pretend by word of mouth to argue with her. She laughed out at your ending a paper in Greek, and said it was a hint to women of literature, and very civil not to translate it to expose them to the vulgar. You see how it is with, sir, your humble servant.' a impertinent gaiety, without any just spirit, or a languishment of notes, without any persons of sense and quality who have done passion or common sense. We hope those us the honour to subscribe, will not be not receive impressions that patronising us ashamed of their patronage towards us, and is being for or against the opera, but truly promoting their own diversions in a more just and elegant manner than has been hitherto performed. We are, sir, your most humble servants, 'MR. SPECTATOR,-You will forgive us professors of music if we make a second application to you, in order to promote our design of exhibiting entertainments of music in York-buildings. It is industriously insinuated that our intention is to destroy operas in general, but we beg of you to insert this plain explanation of ourselves in your paper. Our purpose is only to improve our circumstances, by improving the art MR. SPECTATOR,-If you have that hu- stroyed at present, and as we were the which we profess. We see it utterly demanity and compassion in your nature that you take such pains to make one think you groundless imputation that we should set persons who introduced operas, we think it have, you will not deny your advice to a distressed damsel, who intends to be de-up against the opera itself. What we pretermined by your judgment in a matter of tend to assert is, that the songs of different great importance to her. You must know authors injudiciously put together, and a then, there is an agreeable young fellow, to in every thing now performed amongst us, foreign tone and manner which are expected whose person, wit and humour, nobody has put music itself to a stand; insomuch makes any objection, that pretends to have that the ears of the people cannot now be been long in love with me. To this I must entertained with any thing but what has an add (whether it proceeds from the vanity of my nature, or the seeming sincerity of my lover, I will not pretend to say) that I verily believe he has a real value for me; which, if true, you will allow may justly augment his merit with his mistress. In short, I am so sensible of his good qualities, and what I owe to his passion, that I think I could sooner resolve to give up my liberty to him than any body else, were there not an objection to be made to his fortunes, in regard they do not answer the utmost mine may expect, and are not sufficient to secure me from undergoing the reproachful phrase so commonly used, "that she has played the fool." Now though I am one of those few who heartily despise equipage, dia'There will be no performances in Yorkmonds, and a coxcomb, yet since such op-buildings until after that of the subscripposite notions from mine prevail in the tion." world, even amongst the best, and such as are esteemed the most prudent people, I cannot find in my heart to resolve upon incurring the censure of those wise folks, which I am conscious I shall do, if when I enter into a married state, I discover a thought beyond that of equalling, if not ad- WE have already taken a general survey vancing my fortunes. Under this difficulty of the fable and characters in Milton's ParaI now labour, not being in the least deter-dise Lost. The parts which remain to be mined whether I shall be governed by the vain world, and the frequent examples I meet with, or hearken to the voice of my lover, and the motions I find in my heart in favour of him. Sir, your opinion and advice in this affair is the only thing I know can turn the balance, and which I earnestly entreat I may receive soon; for until I have your thoughts upon it, I am engaged not to give my swain a final discharge. 'Besides the particular obligation you will lay on me, by giving this subject room in one of your papers, it is possible it may be of use to some others of my sex, who will be as grateful for the favour as, sir, your humble servant, FLORINDA. P. S. To tell you the truth, I am married to him already, but pray say something to justify me. THOMAS CLAYTON, NICOLINO HAYM, 'CHARLES DIEUPART. T. No. 279.] Saturday, January 19, 1711-12. Reddere persona scit convenientia cuique. He knows what best befits each character. considered, according to Aristotle's method, are the sentiments and the language. Before I enter upon the first of these, I must advertise my reader, that it is my design, as soon as I have finished my general reflections on these four several heads, to give particular instances out of the poem which is now before us, of beauties and imperfections which may be observed under each of them, as also of such other particulars as may not properly fall under any of them. This I thought fit to premise, that the reader may not judge too hastily of this piece of criticism, or look upon it as imperfect, before he has seen the whole ex tent of it. The sentiments in an epic poem are the thoughts and behaviour which the author ascribes to the persons whom he introduces, Milton's chief talent, and indeed his distinguishing excellence, lies in the sublimity of his thoughts. There are others of the moderns who rival him in every other part of poetry; but in the greatness of his sentiments he triumphs over all the poets both modern and ancient, Homer only excepted. It is impossible for the imagination of man to distend itself with greater ideas, than those which he has laid together in his first, second, and sixth books. The seventh, which describes the creation of the world, is likewise wonderfully sublime, though not so apt to stir up emotion in the mind of the reader, nor consequently so perfect in the epic way of writing, because it is filled with less action. Let the judicious reader compare what Longinus has observed on several passages in Homer, and he will find parallels for most of them in the Paradise Lost. and are just when they are conformable to [ishing sentiments, where he is not fired the characters of the several persons. The by the Iliad. He every where charms sentiments have likewise a relation to things and pleases us by the force of his own as well persons, and are then perfect when genius; but seldom elevates and transports they are such as are adapted to the subject. us where he does not fetch his hints from If in either of these cases the poet endeavours Homer. to argue or explain, to magnify or diminish, to raise love or hatred, pity or terror, or any other passion, we ought to consider whether the sentiments he makes use of are proper for those ends. Homer is censured by the critics for his defect as to this particular in several parts of the Iliad and Odyssey, though at the same time those, who have treated this great poet with candour, have attributed this defect to the times in which he lived. It was the fault of the age, and not of Homer, if there wants that delicacy in some of his sentiments, which now appears in the works of men of a much inferior genius. Besides, if there are blemishes in any particular thoughts, there is an infinite beauty in the greatest part of them. In short, if there are many poets who would not have fallen into the meanness of some of his sentiments, there are none who could have risen up to the greatness of others. Virgil has excelled all others in the propriety of his sentiments. Milton shines likewise very much in this particular: nor must we omit one consideration which adds to his honour and reputation. Homer and Virgil introduced persons whose characters are commonly known among men, and such as are to be met with either in history, or in ordinary conversation. Milton's characters, most of them, lie out of nature, and were to be formed purely by his own invention. It shows a greater genius in Shakspeare to have drawn his Caliban, than his Hotspur, or Julius Cæsar: the one was to be supplied out of his own imagination, whereas the other might have been formed upon tradition, history and observation. It was much easier therefore for Homer to find proper sentiments for an assembly of Grecian generals, than for Milton to diversify his infernal council with proper characters, and inspire them with a variety of sentiments. The loves of Dido and Æneas are only copies of what has passed between other persons. Adam and Eve, before the fall, are a different species from that of mankind, who are descended from them; and none but a poet of the most unbounded invention, and the most exquisite judgment, could have filled their conversation and behaviour with so many apt circumstances during their state of innocence. From what has been said we may infer, that as there are two kinds of sentiments, the natural and the sublime, which are always to be pursued in an heroic poem, there are also two kinds of thoughts which are carefully to be avoided. The first are such as are affected and unnatural; the second such as are mean and vulgar. As for the first kind of thoughts, we meet with little or nothing that is like them in Virgil. He has none of those trifling points and puerilities that are so often to be met with in Ovid, none of the epigrammatic turns of Lucan, none of those swelling sentiments which are so frequent in Statius and Claudian, none of those mixed embellishments of Tasso. Every thing is just and natural. His sentiments show that he had a perfect insight into human nature, and that he knew every thing which was the most proper to affect it. Mr. Dryden has in some places, which I may hereafter take notice of, misrepresented Virgil's way of thinking as to this particular, in the translation he has given us of the Æneid. I do not remember that Homer any where falls into the faults above-mentioned, which were indeed the false refinements of later ages. Milton, it must be confessed, has sometimes erred in this respect, as I shall show more at large in another paper; though considering how all the poets of the age in which he writ were infected with this wrong way of thinking, he is rather to be admired that he did not give more into it, than that he did sometimes comply with the vicious taste which still prevails so much among modern writers. Nor is it sufficient for an epic poem to be filled with such thoughts as are natural, unless it abound also with such as are sublime. Virgil in this particular falls short of Homer. He has not indeed so many thoughts that are low and vulgar; but at the same time has not so many thoughts But since several thoughts may be natuthat are sublime and noble. The truth of ral which are low and grovelling, an epic it is, Virgil seldom rises into very aston-poet should not only avoid such sentiments Principibus placuisse viris non ultima laus est. Creech. as are unnatural or affected, but also such | No. 280.] Monday, January 21, 1711-12. as are mean and vulgar. Homer has opened a great field of raillery to men of more delicacy and greatness of genius, by the homeliness of some of his sentiments. But as I have before said, these are rather to be imputed to the simplicity of the age in which he lived, to which I may also add, of that in which he described, than to any imperfection in that divine poet. Zoilus, among the ancients, and Monsieur Perrault, among the moderns, pushed their ridicule very far upon him, on account of some such sentiments. There is no blemish to be observed in Virgil under this head, and but a very few in Milton. I shall give but one instance of this impropriety of thought in Homer, and at the same time compare it with an instance of the same nature, both in Virgil and Milton. Sentiments which raise laughter, can very seldom be admitted with any decency into an heroic poem, whose business it is to excite passion of a much nobler nature. Homer, however, in his characters of Vulcan and Thersites, in his story of Mars and Venus, in his behaviour of Irus, and in other passages, has been observed to have lapsed into the burlesque character, and to have departed from that serious air which seems essential to the magnificence of an epic poem. I remember but one laugh in the whole Æneid, which rises in the fifth book, upon Monates, where he is represented as thrown overboard, and drying himself upon a rock. But this piece of mirth is so well-timed, that the severest critic can have nothing to say against it; for it is in the book of games and diversions where the reader's mind may be supposed sufficiently relaxed for such an entertainment. The only piece of pleasantry in Paradise Lost, is where the evil spirits are described as rallying the angels upon the success of their new invented artillery. This passage I look upon to be the most exceptionable in the whole poem, as being nothing else but a string of puns, and those too very indifferent ones. -Satan beheld their plight, terms Of Composition, straight they changed their minds, As they would dance; yet for a dance they seem'd To whom thus Belial in like gamesome mood: THE desire of pleasing makes a man agreeable or unwelcome to those with whom he converses, according to the motive from which that inclination appears to flow. If your concern for pleasing others arises from an innate benevolence, it never fails of success; if from a vanity to excel, its disappointment is no less certain. What we call an agreeable man, is he who is endowed with the natural bent to do acceptable things from a delight he takes in them merely as such; and the affectation of that character is what constitutes a fop. Under these leaders one may draw up all those who may make up any manner of figure, except in dumb show. A rational and select conversation is composed of persons, who have the talent of pleasing with delicacy of sentiments flowing from habitual chastity of thought; but mixed company is frequently made up of pretenders to mirth, and is usually pestered with constrained, obscene, and painful witticisms. Now and then you may meet with a man so exactly formed for pleasing, that it is no matter what he is doing or saying, that is to say, that there need be no manner of importance in it, to make him gain upon every body who hears or beholds him. This felicity is not the gift of nature only, but must be attended with happy circumstances, which add a dignity to the familiar behaviour which distinguishes him whom It is from this we call an agreeable man. that every body loves and esteems Polycarpus. He is in the vigour of his age, and the gaiety of life, but has passed through very conspicuous scenes in it: though no soldier, he has shared the danger, and acted with great gallantry and generosity on a decisive day of battle. To have those qualities which only make other men conspicuous in the world as it were supernumerary to him, is a circumstance which gives weight to his most indifferent actions; for as a known credit is ready cash to a trader, so is acknowledged merit immediate distinction, and serves in the place of equipage to a gentleman. This renders Polycarpus graceful in mirth, important in business, and regarded with love in every ordinary occurrence. But not to dwell upon characters which have such particular recommendations to our hearts, let us turn our thoughts rather to the methods of pleasing which must carry men through the world who cannot pretend to such advantages. Falling in with the particular humour or manner of one above you, abstracted from the general rules of good behaviour, is the life of a slave. A parasite differs in nothing from the meanest servant, but that the footman hires himself for |