would we give now for the least glimpse of that invisible world, which the first step we take out of these bodies will present us with? There are such things as eye hath not seen nor ear heard, neither hath it entered into the heart of man to conceive.' Death opens our eyes, enlarges our prospect, presents us with a new and more glorious world, which we can never see while we are shut up in flesh; which should make us as willing to part with this veil, as to take the film off of our eyes which hinders our sight?"

VI.

"For never shall my soul despair
Her pardon to procure,
Who knows thine only Son has died
To make her pardon sure."

"There is a noble hymn in French, which Monsieur Bayle has celebrated for a very fine one, and which the famous author of the Art of Speaking calls an admirable one, that turns upon a thought of the same nature. If I could have done it justice in English, I would have sent it to you translated; it was written by Monsieur des Barreux, who had been one of the greatest wits and libertines in France, but in his last years was as remarkable a penitent.

As a thinking man cannot but be very much affected with the idea of his appearing in the presence of that Being "whom none can see and live," he must be much more affected when he considers that this Being whom he appears before will examine all the actions of his past life, and reward or punish him accordingly. I must confess that I think there is no scheme of religion, besides that of Christianity, which can possibly support the most virtuous person under this thought. Let a man's innocence be what it will, let his virtues rise to the highest pitch of perfection attainable in this life, there will be still in him so many secret sins, so many human frailties, so many offences of ignorance, passion, and prejudice, so many unguarded words and thoughts, and, in short, so many defects in No. 514.] Monday, October 20, 1712. his best actions, that, without the advantages of such an expiation and atonement as Christianity has revealed to us, it is impossible that he should be cleared before his Sovereign Judge, or that he should be able to stand in his sight." Our holy religion suggests to us the only means whereby our guilt may be taken away, and our imperfect obedience accepted.

"Grand Dieu, tes jugemens sont remplis d'equite;
Toujours tu prends plaisir a nous etre propice,
Mais j'ai tant fait de mal, que jamais ta bonte
Ne me pardonnera, sans choquer ta justice.
Oui, mon Dieu, la grandeur de mon impiete
Ne laisse ton a pouvoir que le choix du supplice:
Ton interet s'oppose a ma felicite:

Et ta clemence meme attend que ie perisse
Contente ton desir, puis qui'l t'est glorieux;
Offense toi des pleurs qui coulent de mes yeux:
Tonne, frappe, il est tems, rens moi guerre pour guerre;
J'adore en parissant la raison qui t'aigrit.
Mais dessus quel endroit tombera ton tonnere,
Qui ne soit tout couvert du sang de Jesus Christ."
'If these thoughts may be serviceable to
you, I desire you would place them in a
proper light, and am ever, with great sin-
cerity, sir, yours, &c.'

It is this series of thought that I have endeavoured to express in the following hymn, which I have composed during this my sickness.

O.

-Me Parnasi deserta per ardua dulcis Raptat amor; juvat ire jugis qua nulla priorum, Castaliam molli divertitur orbita clivo.

Virg. Georg. iii. 291.

But the commanding Muse my chariot guides,
Which o'er the dubious cliff securely rides:
And pleas'd I am no heaten road to take,
But first the way to new discoveries make.-Dryden.

'MR. SPECTATOR,-I came home a little later than usual the other night; and, not finding myself inclined to sleep, I took up Virgil to divert me until I should be more disposed to rest. He is the author whom I always choose on such occasions; no one writing in so divine, so harmonious, nor so equal a strain, which leaves the mind composed and softened into an agreeable melancholy; the temper in which, of all others, I choose to close the day. The passages I turned to were those beautiful raptures in his Georgics, where he professes himself entirely given up to the Muses, and smit with the love of poetry, passionately wishing to be transported to the cool shades and retirements of the mountain Hamus. I closed the book and went to bed. What I had just before been reading made so strong an impression on my mind, that fancy seemed almost to fulfil to me the wish of Virgil, in presenting to me the following vision.

'Methought I was on a sudden placed in the plains of Boeotia, where at the end of the horizon I saw the mountain Parnassus rising before me. The prospect was of so large an extent, that I long wandered about to find a path which should directly lead

The goddess had no sooner said thus, but we were arrived at the utmost boundaries of the wood, which lay contiguous to a plain that ended at the foot of the mountain. Here I kept close to my guide, being solicited by several phantoms, who assured me they would show me a nearer way to the mountain of the Muses. Among the rest Vanity was extremely importunate, having deluded infinite numbers, whom I saw wandering at the foot of the hill. I turned away from this despicable troop with disdain; and addressing myself to my guide, told her that, as I had some hopes I should be able to reach up part of the ascent, so I despaired of having strength enough to attain the plain on the top. But, being informed by her that it was impossible to stand upon the sides, and that if I did not proceed onwards I should irrevocably fall down to the lowest verge, I resolved to hazard any labour and hardship in the attempt: so great a desire had I of enjoying the satisfaction I hoped to meet with at the end of my enterprise.

me to it, had I not seen at some distance a | mimic virtue, that it often creeps in hither grove of trees, which, in a plain that had under its disguise. See there; just before nothing else remarkable enough in it to fix you, Revenge stalking by, habited in the my sight, immediately determined me to robe of Honour. Observe not far from him go thither. When I arrived at it, I found Ambition, standing alone; if you ask him it parted out into a great number of walks his name, he will tell you it is Emulation, and alleys, which often widened into beau- or Glory. But the most frequent intruder tiful openings, as circles or ovals, set round we have is Lust, who succeeds now the with yews and cypresses, with niches, deity to whom in better days this grove grottos, and caves, placed on the sides, was entirely devoted. Virtuous Love, with encompassed with ivy. There was no Hymen, and the Graces attending him, sound to be heard in the whole place, but once reigned over this happy place; a only that of a gentle breeze passing over whole train of virtues waited on him, and the leaves of the forest; every thing beside no dishonourable thought durst presume was buried in a profound silence. I was for admittance. But now, how is the whole captivated with the beauty and retirement prospect changed! and how seldom renewof the place, and never so much, before ed by some few who dare despise sordid that hour, was pleased with the enjoyment wealth, and imagine themselves fit comof myself. I indulged the humour, and suf- panions for so charming a divinity.” fered myself to wander without choice or design. At length, at the end of a range of trees, I saw three figures seated on a bank of moss, with a silent brook creeping at their feet. I adored them as the tutelary divinities of the place, and stood still to take a particular view of each of them. The middlemost, whose name was Solitude, sat with her arms across each other, and seemed rather pensive, and wholly taken up with her own thoughts, than any ways grieved or displeased. The only companions which she admitted into that retirement, were the goddess Silence, who sat on her right hand with her finger on her mouth, and on her left Contemplation, with her eyes fixed upon the heavens. Before her lay a celestial globe, with several schemes of mathematical theorems. She prevented my speech with the greatest affability in the world. "Fear not," said she, "I know your request before you speak it; you would be led to the mountain of the Muses: the only way to it lies through this place, and no one is so often employed in conducting persons thither as myself." When she had thus spoken, she rose from her seat, and I immediately placed myself under her direction; but whilst I passed through the grove I could not help inquiring of her who were the persons admitted into that sweet retirement. "Surely," said I, "there can nothing enter here but virtue and virtuous thoughts; the whole wood seems designed for the reception and reward of such persons as have spent their lives according to the dictates of their conscience, and the commands of the gods." "You imagine right," said she: 66 assure yourself this place was at first designed for no other: such it continued to be in the reign of Saturn, when none entered here but holy priests, deliverers of their country from oppression and tyranny, who reposed themselves here after their labours, and those whom the study and love of wisdom had fitted for divine conversation. But now it is become no less dangerous than it was before desirable: vice has learned so to

There were two paths, which led up by different ways to the summit of the mountain: the one was guarded by the genius which presides over the moment of our births. He had it in charge to examine the several pretensions of those who desired to pass that way, but to admit none excepting those only whom Melpomene had looked with a propitious eye at the hour of their nativity. The other way was guarded by Diligence, to whom many of those persons applied who had met with a denial the other way; but he was so tedious in granting their request, and indeed after admittance the way was so very intricate and laborious, that many, after they had made some progress, chose rather to return back than proceed, and very few persisted so long as to arrive at the end they proposed. Besides these two paths, which at length severally led to the top of the mountain, there was a third made up of these two, which a little after the entrance joined in one. This carried those happy few, whose good fortune it was to find it,

place on the mountain. I saw Pindar walking alone, no one daring to accost him, until Cowley joined himself to him; but, growing weary of one who almost walked him out of breath, he left him for Horace and Anacreon, with whom he seemed infinitely delighted.

A little farther I saw another group of figures: I made up to them, and found it was Socrates dictating to Xenophon, and the spirit of Plato; but most of all, Musæus had the greatest audience about him. I was at too great a distance to hear what he said, or to discover the faces of his hearers; only I thought I now perceived Virgil, who had joined them, and stood in a posture full of admiration at the harmony of his words.

directly to the throne of Apollo. I do not | before: I breathed a purer æther in a sky know whether I should even now have had which was a continued azure, gilded with the resolution to have demanded entrance perpetual sunshine. The two summits of at either of these doors, had I not seen a the mountain rose on each side, and formed peasant-like man (followed by a numerous in the midst a most delicious vale, the habiand lovely train of youths of both sexes) tation of the Muses, and of such as had com-insist upon entrance for all whom he led posed works worthy of immortality. Apollo up. He put me in mind of the country was seated upon a throne of gold, and for clown who is painted in the map for lead- a canopy an aged laurel spread its boughs ing prince Eugene over the Alps. He had and its shade over his head. His bow and a bundle of papers in his hand; and pro- quiver lay at his feet. He held his harp in ducing several, that he said were given to his hand, whilst the Muses round about him by hands which he knew Apollo would him celebrated with hymns his victory over allow as passes: among which, methought the serpent Python, and sometimes sung I saw some of my own writing; the whole in softer notes the loves of Leucothoe and assembly was admitted, and gave by their Daphnis. Homer, Virgil, and Milton were presence a new beauty and pleasure to seated the next to them. Behind were a these happy mansions. I found the man great number of others; among whom I was did not pretend to enter himself, but served surprised to see some in the habit of Lapas a kind of forester in the lawns, to direct landers, who notwithstanding the uncouthpassengers, who by their own merit, or in-ness of their dress had lately obtained a structions, he procured for them, had virtue enough to travel that way. I looked very attentively upon this kind homely benefactor; and forgive me, Mr. Spectator, if I own to you I took him for yourself. We were no sooner entered, but we were sprinkled three times with the water of the fountain of Aganippe, which had power to deliver us from all harms, but only envy, which reached even to the end of our journey. We had not procceded far in the middle path, when we arrived at the summit of the hill, where there immediately appeared to us two figures, which extremely engaged my attention: the one was a young nymph in the prime of her youth and beauty; she had wings on her shoulders and feet, and was able to transport herself to the most distant regions in the smallest space of time. She was continually varying her dress, sometimes into the most natural and becoming habits in the world, and at others into the most wild and freakish garb that can be imagined. There stood by her a man full aged and of great gravity, who corrected her inconsistencies by showing them in his mirror, and still fung her affected and unbecoming ornaments down the mountain, which fell in the plain below, and were gathered up and wore with great satisfaction by those that inhabited it. The name of this nymph was Fancy, the daughter of Liberty, the most beautiful of all the mountain nymphs: the other was Judgment, the offspring of Time, and the only child he acknowledged to be his. A youth, who sat upon a throne just between them, was their genuine offspring; his name was Wit, and his seat was composed of the works of the most celebrated authors. could not but see with a secret joy, that, though the Greeks and Romans made the majority, yet our own countrymen were the next both in number and dignity. I was now at liberty to take a full prospect of that delightful region. I was inspired with new vigour and life, and saw every thing in nobler and more pleasing views than

I

'Lastly, at the very brink of the hill, I saw Boccalini sending despatches to the world below of what happened upon Parnassus; but I perceived he did it without leave of the Muses, and by stealth, and was unwilling to have them revised by Apollo. I could now, from this height and serene sky, behold the infinite cares and anxieties with which mortals below sought out their way through the maze of life. I saw the path of Virtue lic straight before them, whilst Interest, or some malicious demon, still hurried them out of the way. I was at once touched with pleasure at my own happiness, and compassion at the sight of their inextricable errors. Here the two contending passions rose so high, that they were inconsistent with the sweet repose I enjoyed; and, awaking with a sudden start, the only consolation I could admit of for my loss, was the hopes that this relation of my dream will not displease you.'

T.

No. 515.] Tuesday, October 21, 1712.
Pudet me et miseret, qui harum mores cantabat mihi
Monuisse frustra- Tr. Heaut. Act ii. Sc. 3.

I am ashamed and grieved, that I neglected his ad

vice, who gave me the character of these creatures.

MR. SPECTATOR,-I am obliged to you for printing the account I lately sent you of

them; I say, I do honour to those who can be coquettes, and are not such; but I despise all who would be so, and, in despair of arriving at it themselves, hate and vilify all those who can. But be that as it will, in answer to your desire of knowing my history: one of my chief present pleasures is in country-dances; and in obedience to me, as well as the pleasure of coming up to me, with a good grace, showing themselves in their address to others in my presence, and the like opportunities, they are all proficients that way; and I had the happiness of being the other night where we made six couple, and every woman's partner a professed lover of mine. The wildest imagination cannot form to itself, on any occasion, higher delight than I acknowledge myself to have been in all that evening. I chose out of my admirers a set of men who must love me, and gave them partners of such of my own sex who most envied me.

a coquette who disturbed a sober congre-
gation in the city of London. That intelli-
gence ended at her taking a coach, and
bidding the driver go where he knew. I
could not leave her so, but dogged her, as
hard as she drove, to Paul's church-yard,
where there was a stop of coaches attend-
ing company coming out of the cathedral.
This gave me an opportunity to hold up a
crown to her coachman, who gave me the
signal that he would hurry on and make no
haste, as you know the way is when they
favour a chase. By his many kind blun-
ders, driving against other coaches, and
slipping off some of his tackle, I could
keep up with him, and lodged my fine lady
in the parish of St. James's. As I guessed,
when I first saw her at church, her busi-
ness is to win hearts, and throw them away,
regarding nothing but the triumph. I have
had the happiness, by tracing her through
all with whom I heard she was acquainted,
to find one who was intimate with a friend
of mine, and to be introduced to her notice.
I have made so good a use of my time, as
to procure from that intimate of hers one of
her letters, which she writ to her when in
the country. This epistle of her own may
serve to alarm the world against her in cr-ture I can find.
dinary life, as mine, I hope, did those who
shall behold her at church. The letter was
written last winter to the lady who gave it
me; and I doubt not but you will find it the
soul of a happy self-loving dame, that
takes all the admiration she can meet with,
and returns none of it in love to her ad-
mirers.

"My way is, when any man who is my admirer pretends to give himself airs of merit, as at this time a certain gentleman you know did, to mortify him by favouring in his presence the most insignificant crea

At this ball I was led into the company by pretty Mr. Fanfly, who you know, is the most obsequious, wellshaped, well-bred woman's man in the town. I at first entrance declared him my partner if I danced at all; which put the whole assembly into a grin, as forming no terrors from such a rival. But we had not been long in the room before I overheard the meritorious gentleman above-mentioned "DEAR JENNY,—I am glad to find you say, with an oath, 'There is no raillery in are likely to be disposed of in marriage so the thing, she certainly loves the puppy.' much to your approbation as you tell me. My gentleman, when we were dancing, You say you are afraid only of me, for I took an occasion to be very soft in his ogling shall laugh at your spouse's airs. I beg of upon a lady he danced with, and whom he you not to fear it, for I am too nice a dis- knew of all women I loved most to outshine. cerner to laugh at any, but whom most The contest began who could plague the other people think fine fellows; so that other most. I, who do not care a farthing your dear may bring you hither as soon as for him, had no hard task to outvex him. his horses are in case enough to appear in I made Fanfly, with a very little encouragetown, and you will be very safe against any ment, cut capers coupee, and then sink raillery you may apprehend from me; for I with all the air and tenderness imaginable. am surrounded with coxcombs of my own When he performed this, I observed the making, who are all ridiculous in a manner gentleman you know of, fall into the same wherein your good man, I presume, cannot way, and imitate as well as he could the exert himself. As men who cannot raise despised Fanfly. I cannot well give you, their fortunes, and are uneasy under the in- who are so grave a country lady, the idea capacity of shining in courts, rail at ambi- of the joy we have when we see a stubborn tion; so do awkward and insipid women, heart breaking, or a man of sense turning who cannot warm the hearts, and charm fool for our sakes; but this happened to our the eyes of men, rail at affectation: but she friend, and I expect his attendance whenthat has the joy of seeing a man's heart ever I go to church, to court, to the play, leap into his eyes at beholding her, is in no or the park. This is a sacrifice due to us pain for want of esteem among the crew of women of genius, who have the eloquence that part of her own sex, who have no of beauty, an easy mien. I mean by an easy spirit but that of envy, and no language but mien, one which can be on occasion easily that of malice. I do not in this, I hope, ex-affected: for I must tell you, dear Jenny, I press myself insensible of the merit of Leodacia, who lowers her beauty to all but her husband, and never spreads her charms but to gladden him who has a right to

hold one maxim, which is an uncommon one, to wit, That our greatest charms are owing to affectation. It is to that our arms can lodge so quietly just over our hips, and