The Spectator, Volume 2.
Addison and Steele

Part 12 out of 19

Nocturnis ab adulteris;
Si non--



Your Correspondents Letter relating to Fortune-Hunters, and your
subsequent Discourse upon it, have given me Encouragement to send you
a State of my Case, by which you will see, that the Matter complained
of is a common Grievance both to City and Country.

I am a Country Gentleman of between five and six thousand a Year. It
is my Misfortune to have a very fine Park and an only Daughter; upon
which account I have been so plagu'd with Deer-Stealers and Fops, that
for these four Years past I have scarce enjoy'd a Moments Rest. I
look upon my self to be in a State of War, and am forc'd to keep as
constant watch in my Seat, as a Governour would do that commanded a
Town on the Frontier of an Enemy's Country. I have indeed pretty well
secur'd my Park, having for this purpose provided my self of four
Keepers, who are Left-handed, and handle a Quarter-Staff beyond any
other Fellow in the Country. And for the Guard of my House, besides a
Band of Pensioner-Matrons and an old Maiden Relation, whom I keep on
constant Duty, I have Blunderbusses always charged, and Fox-Gins
planted in private Places about my Garden, of which I have given
frequent Notice in the Neighbourhood; yet so it is, that in spite of
all my Care, I shall every now and then have a saucy Rascal ride by
reconnoitring (as I think you call it) under my Windows, as sprucely
drest as if he were going to a Ball. I am aware of this way of
attacking a Mistress on Horseback, having heard that it is a common
Practice in Spain; and have therefore taken care to remove my Daughter
from the Road-side of the House, and to lodge her next the Garden. But
to cut short my Story; what can a Man do after all? I durst not stand
for Member of Parliament last Election, for fear of some ill
Consequence from my being off of my Post. What I would therefore
desire of you, is, to promote a Project I have set on foot; and upon
which I have writ to some of my Friends; and that is, that care may be
taken to secure our Daughters by Law, as well as our Deer; and that
some honest Gentleman of a publick Spirit, would move for Leave to
bring in a Bill For the better preserving of the Female Game.
I am, SIR,
Your humble Servant.

Mile-End-Green, March 6, 1711-12.


Here is a young Man walks by our Door every Day about the Dusk of the
Evening. He looks up at my Window, as if to see me; and if I steal
towards it to peep at him, he turns another way, and looks frightened
at finding what he was looking for. The Air is very cold; and pray let
him know that if he knocks at the Door, he will be carry'd to the
Parlour Fire; and I will come down soon after, and give him an
Opportunity to break his Mind.
I am, SIR,
Your humble Servant,
Mary Comfitt.

If I observe he cannot speak, Ill give him time to recover himself,
and ask him how he does.

Dear SIR,
I beg you to print this without Delay, and by the first Opportunity
give us the natural Causes of Longing in Women; or put me out of Fear
that my Wife will one time or other be delivered of something as
monstrous as any thing that has yet appeared to the World; for they
say the Child is to bear a Resemblance of what was desir'd by the
Mother. I have been marry'd upwards of six Years, have had four
Children, and my Wife is now big with the fifth. The Expences she has
put me to in procuring what she has longed for during her Pregnancy
with them, would not only have handsomely defray'd the Charges of the
Month, but of their Education too; her Fancy being so exorbitant for
the first Year or two, as not to confine it self to the usual Objects
of Eatables and Drinkables, but running out after Equipage and
Furniture, and the like Extravagancies. To trouble you only with a few
of them: When she was with Child of Tom, my eldest Son, she came home
one day just fainting, and told me she had been visiting a Relation,
whose Husband had made her a Present of a Chariot and a stately pair
of Horses; and that she was positive she could not breathe a Week
longer, unless she took the Air in the Fellow to it of her own within
that time: This, rather than lose an Heir, I readily comply'd with.
Then the Furniture of her best Room must be instantly changed, or she
should mark the Child with some of the frightful Figures in the
old-fashion'd Tapestry. Well, the Upholsterer was called, and her
Longing sav'd that bout. When she went with Molly, she had fix'd her
Mind upon a new Set of Plate, and as much China as would have
furnished an India Shop: These also I chearfully granted, for fear of
being Father to an Indian Pagod. Hitherto I found her Demands rose
upon every Concession; and had she gone on, I had been ruined: But by
good Fortune, with her third, which was Peggy, the Height of her
Imagination came down to the Corner of a Venison Pasty, and brought
her once even upon her Knees to gnaw off the Ears of a Pig from the
Spit. The Gratifications of her Palate were easily preferred to those
of her Vanity; and sometimes a Partridge or a Quail, a Wheat-Ear or
the Pestle of a Lark, were chearfully purchased; nay, I could be
contented tho I were to feed her with green Pease in April, or
Cherries in May. But with the Babe she now goes, she is turned Girl
again, and fallen to eating of Chalk, pretending twill make the
Child's Skin white; and nothing will serve her but I must bear her
Company, to prevent its having a Shade of my Brown: In this however I
have ventur'd to deny her. No longer ago than yesterday, as we were
coming to Town, she saw a parcel of Crows so heartily at Break-fast
upon a piece of Horse-flesh, that she had an invincible Desire to
partake with them, and (to my infinite Surprize) begged the Coachman
to cut her off a Slice as if twere for himself, which the Fellow did;
and as soon as she came home she fell to it with such an Appetite,
that she seemed rather to devour than eat it. What her next Sally will
be, I cannot guess: but in the mean time my Request to you is, that if
there be any way to come at these wild unaccountable Rovings of
Imagination by Reason and Argument, you'd speedily afford us your
Assistance. This exceeds the Grievance of Pin-Money, and I think in
every Settlement there ought to be a Clause inserted, that the Father
should be answerable for the Longings of his Daughter. But I shall
impatiently expect your Thoughts in this Matter and am
Your most Obliged, and
most Faithful Humble Servant,

Let me know whether you think the next Child will love Horses as much
as Molly does China-Ware.


* * * * *

No. 327. Saturday, March 15, 1712. Addison.

Major rerum mihi nascitur ordo.


We were told in the foregoing Book how the evil Spirit practised upon
Eve as she lay asleep, in order to inspire her with Thoughts of Vanity,
Pride, and Ambition. The Author, who shews a wonderful Art throughout
his whole Poem, in preparing the Reader for the several Occurrences that
arise in it, founds upon the above-mention'd Circumstance, the first
Part of the fifth Book. Adam upon his awaking finds Eve still asleep,
with an unusual Discomposure in her Looks. The Posture in which he
regards her, is describ'd with a Tenderness not to be express'd, as the
Whisper with which he awakens her, is the softest that ever was convey'd
to a Lovers Ear.

His wonder was, to find unwaken'd Eve
With Tresses discompos'd, and glowing Cheek,
As through unquiet Rest: he on his side
Leaning half-rais'd, with Looks of cordial Love
Hung over her enamour'd, and beheld
Beauty, which whether waking or asleep,
Shot forth peculiar Graces: then, with Voice
Mild, as when Zephyrus on Flora breathes,
Her Hand soft touching, whisper'd thus: Awake
My Fairest, my Espous'd, my latest found,
Heavns last best Gift, my ever new Delight!
Awake: the Morning shines, and the fresh Field
Calls us, we lose the Prime, to mark how spring
Our tended Plants, how blows the Citron Grove,
What drops the Myrrh, and what the balmy Reed,
How Nature paints her Colours, how the Bee
Sits on the Bloom, extracting liquid Sweets.

Such whispering wak'd her, but with startled Eye
On Adam, whom embracing, thus she spake:

O Sole, in whom my Thoughts find all Repose,
My Glory, my Perfection! glad I see
Thy Face, and Morn return'd----

I cannot but take notice that Milton, in the Conferences between Adam
and Eve, had his Eye very frequently upon the Book of Canticles, in
which there is a noble Spirit of Eastern Poetry; and very often not
unlike what we meet with in Homer, who is generally placed near the Age
of Solomon. I think there is no question but the Poet in the preceding
Speech remember'd those two Passages which are spoken on the like
occasion, and fill'd with the same pleasing Images of Nature.

My beloved spake, and said unto me, Rise up, my Love, my Fair one, and
come away; for lo the Winter is past, the Rain is over and gone, the
Flowers appear on the Earth, the Time of the singing of Birds is come,
and the Voice of the Turtle is heard in our Land. The Fig-tree putteth
forth her green Figs, and the Vines with the tender Grape give a good
Smell. Arise my Love, my Fair-one and come away.

Come, my Beloved, let us go forth into the Field; let us get up early
to the Vineyards, let us see if the Vine flourish, whether the tender
Grape appear, and the Pomegranates bud forth.

His preferring the Garden of Eden, to that

--Where the Sapient King
Held Dalliance with his fair Egyptian Spouse,

shews that the Poet had this delightful Scene in his mind.

Eves Dream is full of those high Conceits engendring Pride, which, we
are told, the Devil endeavour'd to instill into her. Of this kind is
that Part of it where she fancies herself awaken'd by Adam in the
following beautiful Lines.

Why sleepst thou Eve? now is the pleasant Time,
The cool, the silent, save where Silence yields
To the night-warbling Bird, that now awake
Tunes sweetest his love-labour'd Song; now reigns
Full orb'd the Moon, and with more [pleasing [1]] Light
Shadowy sets off the Face of things: In vain,
If none regard. Heavn wakes with all his Eyes,
Whom to behold but thee, Natures Desire,
In whose sight all things joy, with Ravishment,
Attracted by thy Beauty still to gaze!

An injudicious Poet would have made Adam talk thro the whole Work in
such Sentiments as these: But Flattery and Falshood are not the
Courtship of Milton's Adam, and could not be heard by Eve in her State
of Innocence, excepting only in a Dream produc'd on purpose to taint her
Imagination. Other vain Sentiments of the same kind in this Relation of
her Dream, will be obvious to every Reader. Tho the Catastrophe of the
Poem is finely presag'd on this Occasion, the Particulars of it are so
artfully shadow'd, that they do not anticipate the Story which follows
in the ninth Book. I shall only add, that tho the Vision it self is
founded upon Truth, the Circumstances of it are full of that Wildness
and Inconsistency which are natural to a Dream. Adam, conformable to his
superior Character for Wisdom, instructs and comforts Eve upon this

So chear'd he his fair Spouse, and she was chear'd,
But silently a gentle Tear let fall
From either Eye, and wiped them with her hair;
Two other precious Drops, that ready stood
Each in their chrystal Sluice, he ere they fell
Kiss'd, as the gracious Sign of sweet Remorse
And pious Awe, that fear'd to have offended.

The Morning Hymn is written in Imitation of one of those Psalms, where,
in the overflowings of Gratitude and Praise, the Psalmist calls not only
upon the Angels, but upon the most conspicuous Parts of the inanimate
Creation, to join with him in extolling their common Maker. Invocations
of this nature fill the Mind with glorious Ideas of Gods Works, and
awaken that Divine Enthusiasm, which is so natural to Devotion. But if
this calling upon the dead Parts of Nature, is at all times a proper
kind of Worship, it was in a particular manner suitable to our first
Parents, who had the Creation fresh upon their Minds, and had not seen
the various Dispensations of Providence, nor consequently could be
acquainted with those many Topicks of Praise which might afford Matter
to the Devotions of their Posterity. I need not remark the beautiful
Spirit of Poetry, which runs through this whole Hymn, nor the Holiness
of that Resolution with which it concludes.

Having already mentioned those Speeches which are assigned to the
Persons in this Poem, I proceed to the Description which the Poet [gives
[2]] of Raphael. His Departure from before the Throne, and the Flight
through the Choirs of Angels, is finely imaged. As Milton every where
fills his Poem with Circumstances that are marvellous and astonishing,
he describes the Gate of Heaven as framed after such a manner, that it
opened of it self upon the Approach of the Angel who was to pass through

Till at the Gate
Of Heavn arriv'd, the Gate self-open'd wide,
On golden Hinges turning, as by Work
Divine, the Sovereign Architect had framed.

The Poet here seems to have regarded two or three Passages in the 18th
Iliad, as that in particular, where speaking of Vulcan, Homer says, that
he had made twenty Tripodes running on Golden Wheels; which, upon
occasion, might go of themselves to the Assembly of the Gods, and, when
there was no more Use for them, return again after the same manner.
Scaliger has rallied Homer very severely upon this Point, as M. Dacier
has endeavoured to defend it. I will not pretend to determine, whether
in this particular of Homer the Marvellous does not lose sight of the
Probable. As the miraculous Workmanship of Milton's Gates is not so
extraordinary as this of the Tripodes, so I am persuaded he would not
have mentioned it, had not he been supported in it by a Passage in the
Scripture, which speaks of Wheels in Heaven that had Life in them, and
moved of themselves, or stood still, in conformity with the Cherubims,
whom they accompanied.

There is no question but Milton had this Circumstance in his Thoughts,
because in the following Book he describes the Chariot of the Messiah
with living Wheels, according to the Plan in Ezekiel's Vision.

--Forth rush'd with Whirlwind sound
The Chariot of paternal Deity
Flashing thick flames?, Wheel within Wheel undrawn,
Itself instinct with Spirit--

I question not but Bossu, and the two Daciers, who are for vindicating
every thing that is censured in Homer, by something parallel in Holy
Writ, would have been very well pleased had they thought of confronting
Vulcan's Tripodes with Ezekiel's Wheels.

Raphael's Descent to the Earth, with the Figure of his Person, is
represented in very lively Colours. Several of the French, Italian and
English Poets have given a Loose to their Imaginations in the
Description of Angels: But I do not remember to have met with any so
finely drawn, and so conformable to the Notions which are given of them
in Scripture, as this in Milton. After having set him forth in all his
Heavenly Plumage, and represented him as alighting upon the Earth, the
Poet concludes his Description with a Circumstance, which is altogether
new, and imagined with the greatest Strength of Fancy.

--Like Maia's Son he stood,
And shook his Plumes, that Heavnly Fragrance fill'd
The Circuit wide.--

Raphael's Reception by the Guardian Angels; his passing through the
Wilderness of Sweets; his distant Appearance to Adam, have all the
Graces that Poetry is capable of bestowing. The Author afterwards gives
us a particular Description of Eve in her Domestick Employments

So saying, with dispatchful Looks in haste
She turns, on hospitable Thoughts intent,
What Choice to chuse for Delicacy best,
What order, so contrived, as not to mix
Tastes, not well join'd, inelegant, but bring
Taste after Taste; upheld with kindliest Change;
Bestirs her then, &c.--

Though in this, and other Parts of the same Book, the Subject is only
the Housewifry of our first Parent, it is set off with so many pleasing
Images and strong Expressions, as make it none of the least agreeable
Parts in this Divine Work.

The natural Majesty of Adam, and at the same time his submissive
Behaviour to the Superior Being, who had vouchsafed to be his Guest; the
solemn Hail which the Angel bestows upon the Mother of Mankind, with the
Figure of Eve ministring at the Table, are Circumstances which deserve
to be admired.

Raphael's Behaviour is every way suitable to the Dignity of his Nature,
and to that Character of a sociable Spirit, with which the Author has so
judiciously introduced him. He had received Instructions to converse
with Adam, as one Friend converses with another, and to warn him of the
Enemy, who was contriving his Destruction: Accordingly he is represented
as sitting down at Table with Adam, and eating of the Fruits of
Paradise. The Occasion naturally leads him to his Discourse on the Food
of Angels. After having thus entered into Conversation with Man upon
more indifferent Subjects, he warns him of his Obedience, and makes
natural Transition to the History of that fallen Angel, who was employ'd
in the Circumvention of our first Parents.

Had I followed Monsieur Bossu's Method in my first Paper of Milton, I
should have dated the Action of Paradise Lost from the Beginning of
Raphael's Speech in this Book, as he supposes the Action of the AEneid to
begin in the second Book of that Poem. I could allege many Reasons for
my drawing the Action of the AEneid rather from its immediate Beginning
in the first Book, than from its remote Beginning in the second; and
shew why I have considered the sacking of Troy as an Episode, according
to the common Acceptation of that Word. But as this would be a dry
unentertaining Piece of Criticism, and perhaps unnecessary to those who
have read my first Paper, I shall not enlarge upon it. Whichever of the
Notions be true, the Unity of Milton's Action is preserved according to
either of them; whether we consider the Fall of Man in its immediate
Beginning, as proceeding from the Resolutions taken in the infernal
Council, or in its more remote Beginning, as proceeding from the first
Revolt of the Angels in Heaven. The Occasion which Milton assigns for
this Revolt, as it is founded on Hints in Holy Writ, and on the Opinion
of some great Writers, so it was the most proper that the Poet could
have made use of.

The Revolt in Heaven is described with great Force of Imagination and a
fine Variety of Circumstances. The learned Reader cannot but be pleased
with the Poets Imitation of Homer in the last of the following Lines.

At length into the Limits of the North
They came, and Satan took his Royal Seat
High on a Hill, far blazing, as a Mount
Rais'd on a Mount, with Pyramids and Towrs
From Diamond Quarries hewn, and Rocks of Gold,
The Palace of great Lucifer, (so call
That Structure in the Dialect of Men

Homer mentions Persons and Things, which he tells us in the Language of
the Gods are call'd by different Names from those they go by in the
Language of Men. Milton has imitated him with his usual Judgment in this
particular Place, wherein he has likewise the Authority of Scripture to
justifie him. The Part of Abdiel, who was the only Spirit that in this
infinite Host of Angels preserved his Allegiance to his Maker, exhibits
to us a noble Moral of religious Singularity. The Zeal of the Seraphim
breaks forth in a becoming Warmth of Sentiments and Expressions, as the
Character which is given us of him denotes that generous Scorn and
Intrepidity which attends Heroic Virtue. The Author doubtless designed
it as a Pattern to those who live among Mankind in their present State
of Degeneracy and Corruption.

So spake the Seraph Abdiel, faithful found
Among the faithless, faithful only he;
Among innumerable false, unmov'd,
Unshaken, unseduc'd, unterrify'd;
His Loyalty he kept, his Love, his Zeal:
Nor Number, nor Example with him wrought
To swerve from truth, or change his constant Mind,
Though single. From amidst them forth he pass'd,
Long way through [hostile] Scorn, which he sustain'd
Superior, nor of Violence fear'd ought;
And, with retorted Scorn, his Back he turn'd
On those proud Towrs to swift Destruction doom'd.


[Footnote 1: [pleasant]

[Footnote 2: [gives us]]

* * * * *

No. 328 [1] Monday, March 17, 1712. Steele.

Delectata illa urbanitate tam stulta.

Petron. Arb.

That useful Part of Learning which consists in Emendation, Knowledge of
different Readings, and the like, is what in all Ages Persons extremely
wise and learned have had in great Veneration. For this reason I cannot
but rejoyce at the following Epistle, which lets us into the true Author
of the Letter to Mrs. Margaret Clark, part of which I did myself the
Honour to publish in a former Paper. I must confess I do not naturally
affect critical Learning; but finding my self not so much regarded as I
am apt to flatter my self I may deserve from some professed Patrons of
Learning, I could not but do my self the Justice to shew I am not a
Stranger to such Erudition as they smile upon, if I were duly
encouraged. However this only to let the World see what I could do; and
shall not give my Reader any more of this kind, if he will forgive the
Ostentation I shew at present.

March 13, 1712.

Upon reading your Paper of yesterday, [2] I took the Pains to look
out a Copy I had formerly taken, and remembered to be very like your
last Letter: Comparing them, I found they were the very same, and
have, underwritten, sent you that Part of it which you say was torn
off. I hope you will insert it, that Posterity may know twas Gabriel
Bullock that made Love in that natural Stile of which you seem to be
fond. But, to let you see I have other Manuscripts in the same Way, I
have sent you Enclosed three Copies, faithfully taken by my own Hand
from the Originals, which were writ by a Yorkshire gentleman of a good
estate to Madam Mary, and an Uncle of hers, a Knight very well known
by the most ancient Gentry in that and several other Counties of Great
Britain. I have exactly followed the Form and Spelling. I have been
credibly informed that Mr. William Bullock, the famous Comedian, is
the descendant of this Gabriel, who begot Mr. William Bullocks great
grandfather on the Body of the above-mentioned Mrs. Margaret Clark.
But neither Speed, nor Baker, nor Selden, taking notice of it, I will
not pretend to be positive; but desire that the letter may be
reprinted, and what is here recovered may be in Italic.
I am, SIR,
Your daily Reader.

_To her I very much respect, Mrs. Margaret Clark._

Lovely, and oh that I could write loving Mrs. Margaret Clark, I pray
you let Affection excuse Presumption. Having been so happy as to
enjoy the Sight of your sweet Countenance and comely Body, sometimes
when I had occasion to buy Treacle or Liquorish Power at the
apothecary's shop, I am so enamoured with you, that I can no more
keep close my flaming Desire to become your Servant. And I am the
more bold now to write to your sweet self, because I am now my own
Man, and may match where I please; for my Father is taken away; and
now I am come to my Living, which is ten yard Land, and a House; and
there is never a Yard Land [3] in our Field but is as well worth ten
Pound a Year, as a Thief's worth a Halter; and all my Brothers and
Sisters are provided for: besides I have good Household Stuff,
though I say it, both Brass and Pewter, Linnens and Woollens; and
though my House be thatched, yet if you and I match, it shall go
hard but I will have one half of it slated. If you shall think well
of this Motion, I will wait upon you as soon as my new Cloaths is
made, and Hay-Harvest is in. I could, though I say it, have good
_Matches in our Town; but my Mother (Gods Peace be with her)
charged me upon her Death-Bed to marry a Gentlewoman, one who had
been well trained up in Sowing and Cookery. I do not think but that
if you and I can agree to marry, and lay our Means together, I shall
be made grand Jury-man e'er two or three Years come about, and that
will be a great Credit to us. If I could have got a Messenger for
Sixpence, I would have sent one on Purpose, and some Trifle or other
for a Token of my Love; but I hope there is nothing lost for that
neither. So hoping you will take this Letter in good Part, and
answer it with what Care and Speed you can, I rest and remain,_
Yours, if my own, MR. GABRIEL BULLOCK, now my father is dead.

Swepston, Leicestershire.

When the Coal Carts come, I shall send oftener; and may come in one
of them my self.

For sir William to go to london at westminster, remember a

Sir William, i hope that you are well. i write to let you know that
i am in troubel abbut a lady you nease; and I do desire that you
will be my frend; for when i did com to see her at your hall, i was
mighty Abuesed. i would fain a see you at topecliff, and thay would
not let me go to you; but i desire that you will be our frends, for
it is no dishonor neither for you nor she, for God did make us all.
i wish that i might see you, for thay say that you are a good man:
and many doth wounder at it, but madam norton is abuesed and ceated
two i beleive. i might a had many a lady, but i con have none but
her with a good consons, for there is a God that know our harts, if
you and madam norton will come to York, there i shill meet you if
God be willing and if you pleased, so be not angterie till you know
the trutes of things.

George Nelon I give my to me lady, and to Mr. Aysenby, and to
madam norton March, the 19th; 1706.

This is for madam mary norton disforth Lady she went to York.

Madam Mary. Deare loving sweet lady, i hope you are well. Do not go
to london, for they will put you in the nunnery; and heed not Mrs.
Lucy what she saith to you, for she will ly and ceat you. go from to
another Place, and we will gate wed so with speed, mind what i write
to you, for if they gate you to london they will keep you there; and
so let us gate wed, and we will both go. so if you go to london, you
rueing your self, so heed not what none of them saith to you. let us
gate wed, and we shall lie to gader any time. i will do any thing
for you to my poore. i hope the devill will faile them all, for a
hellish Company there be. from there cursed trick and mischiefus
ways good lord bless and deliver both you and me.

I think to be at york the 24 day.

This is for madam mary norton to go to london for a lady that
belongs to dishforth.

Madam Mary, i hope you are well, i am soary that you went away from
York, deare loving sweet lady, i writt to let you know that i do
remain faithful; and if can let me know where i can meet you, i will
wed you, and I will do any thing to my poor; for you are a good
woman, and will be a loving Misteris. i am in troubel for you, so if
you will come to york i will wed you. so with speed come, and i will
have none but you. so, sweet love, heed not what to say to me, and
with speed come: heed not what none of them say to you; your Maid
makes you believe ought.

So deare love think of Mr. george Nillson with speed; i sent you 2
or 3 letters before.

I gave misteris elcock some nots, and thay put me in pruson all the
night for me pains, and non new whear i was, and i did gat cold.

But it is for mrs. Lucy to go a good way from home, for in york and
round about she is known; to writ any more her deeds, the same will
tell hor soul is black within, hor corkis stinks of hell.
March 19th, 1706.


[Footnote 1: This paper is No. 328 in the original issue, but Steele
omitted it from the reprint and gave in its place the paper by Addison
which here stands next to it marked with the same number, 328. The paper
of Addison's had formed no part of the original issue. Of the original
No. 328 Steele inserted a censure at the end of No. 330.]

[Footnote 2: See No. 324.]

[Footnote 3: In some counties 20, in some 24, and in others 30 acres of

* * * * *

No. 328. Monday, March 17, 1712. Addison.

Nullum me a labore reclinat otium.



As I believe this is the first Complaint that ever was made to you of
this nature, so you are the first Person I ever could prevail upon my
self to lay it before. When I tell you I have a healthy vigorous
Constitution, a plentiful Estate, no inordinate Desires, and am
married to a virtuous lovely Woman, who neither wants Wit nor
Good-Nature, and by whom I have a numerous Offspring to perpetuate my
Family, you will naturally conclude me a happy Man. But,
notwithstanding these promising Appearances, I am so far from it, that
the prospect of being ruin'd and undone, by a sort of Extravagance
which of late Years is in a less degree crept into every fashionable
Family, deprives me of all the Comforts of my Life, and renders me the
most anxious miserable Man on Earth. My Wife, who was the only Child
and darling Care of an indulgent Mother, employ'd her early Years in
learning all those Accomplishments we generally understand by good
Breeding and polite Education. She sings, dances, plays on the Lute
and Harpsicord, paints prettily, is a perfect Mistress of the French
Tongue, and has made a considerable Progress in Italian. She is
besides excellently skill'd in all domestick Sciences, as Preserving,
Pickling, Pastry, making Wines of Fruits of our own Growth,
Embroydering, and Needleworks of every Kind. Hitherto you will be apt
to think there is very little Cause of Complaint; but suspend your
Opinion till I have further explain'd my self, and then I make no
question you will come over to mine. You are not to imagine I find
fault that she either possesses or takes delight in the Exercise of
those Qualifications I just now mention'd; tis the immoderate
Fondness she has to them that I lament, and that what is only design'd
for the innocent Amusement and Recreation of Life, is become the whole
Business and Study of hers. The six Months we are in Town (for the
Year is equally divided between that and the Country) from almost
Break of Day till Noon, the whole Morning is laid out in practising
with her several Masters; and to make up the Losses occasion'd by her
Absence in Summer, every Day in the Week their Attendance is requir'd;
and as they all are People eminent in their Professions, their Skill
and Time must be recompensed accordingly: So how far these Articles
extend, I leave you to judge. Limning, one would think, is no
expensive Diversion, but as she manages the Matter, tis a very
considerable Addition to her Disbursements; Which you will easily
believe, when you know she paints Fans for all her Female
Acquaintance, and draws all her Relations Pictures in Miniature; the
first must be mounted by no body but Colmar, and the other set by no
body but Charles Mather. What follows, is still much worse than the
former; for, as I told you, she is a great Artist at her Needle, tis
incredible what Sums she expends in Embroidery; For besides what is
appropriated to her personal Use, as Mantuas, Petticoats, Stomachers,
Handkerchiefs, Purses, Pin-cushions, and Working Aprons, she keeps
four French Protestants continually employ'd in making divers Pieces
of superfluous Furniture, as Quilts, Toilets, Hangings for Closets,
Beds, Window-Curtains, easy Chairs, and Tabourets: Nor have I any
hopes of ever reclaiming her from this Extravagance, while she
obstinately persists in thinking it a notable piece of good
Housewifry, because they are made at home, and she has had some share
in the Performance. There would be no end of relating to you the
Particulars of the annual Charge, in furnishing her Store-Room with a
Profusion of Pickles and Preserves; for she is not contented with
having every thing, unless it be done every way, in which she consults
an Hereditary Book of Receipts; for her female Ancestors have been
always fam'd for good Housewifry, one of whom is made immortal, by
giving her Name to an Eye-Water and two sorts of Puddings. I cannot
undertake to recite all her medicinal Preparations, as Salves,
Cerecloths, Powders, Confects, Cordials, Ratafia, Persico,
Orange-flower, and Cherry-Brandy, together with innumerable sorts of
Simple Waters. But there is nothing I lay so much to Heart, as that
detestable Catalogue of counterfeit Wines, which derive their Names
from the Fruits, Herbs, or Trees of whose Juices they are chiefly
compounded: They are loathsome to the Taste, and pernicious to the
Health; and as they seldom survive the Year, and then are thrown away,
under a false Pretence of Frugality, I may affirm they stand me in
more than if I entertain'd all our Visiters with the best Burgundy and
Champaign. Coffee, Chocolate, Green, Imperial, Peco, and Bohea-Tea
seem to be Trifles; but when the proper Appurtenances of the Tea-Table
are added, they swell the Account higher than one would imagine. I
cannot conclude without doing her Justice in one Article; where her
Frugality is so remarkable, I must not deny her the Merit of it, and
that is in relation to her Children, who are all confin'd, both Boys
and Girls, to one large Room in the remotest Part of the House, with
Bolts on the Doors and Bars to the Windows, under the Care and Tuition
of an old Woman, who had been dry Nurse to her Grandmother. This is
their Residence all the Year round; and as they are never allow'd to
appear, she prudently thinks it needless to be at any Expence in
Apparel or Learning. Her eldest Daughter to this day would have
neither read nor writ, if it had not been for the Butler, who being
the Son of a Country Attorney, has taught her such a Hand as is
generally used for engrossing Bills in Chancery. By this time I have
sufficiently tired your Patience with my domestick Grievances; which I
hope you will agree could not well be contain'd in a narrower Compass,
when you consider what a Paradox I undertook to maintain in the
Beginning of my Epistle, and which manifestly appears to be but too
melancholy a Truth. And now I heartily wish the Relation I have given
of my Misfortunes may be of Use and Benefit to the Publick. By the
Example I have set before them, the truly virtuous Wives may learn to
avoid those Errors which have so unhappily mis-led mine, and which are
visibly these three. First, in mistaking the proper Objects of her
Esteem, and fixing her Affections upon such things as are only the
Trappings and Decorations of her Sex. Secondly, In not distinguishing
what becomes the different Stages of Life. And, Lastly, The Abuse and
Corruption of some excellent Qualities, which, if circumscrib'd within
just Bounds, would have been the Blessing and Prosperity of her
Family, but by a vicious Extreme are like to be the Bane and
Destruction of it.


* * * * *

No. 329. Tuesday, March 18, 1712. Addison.

Ire tamen restat, Numa quo devenit et Ancus.


My friend Sir ROGER DE COVERLEY told me tother Night, that he had been
reading my Paper upon Westminster Abby, in which, says he, there are a
great many ingenious Fancies. He told me at the same time, that he
observed I had promised another Paper upon the Tombs, and that he should
be glad to go and see them with me, not having visited them since he had
read History. I could not at first imagine how this came into the
Knights Head, till I recollected that he had been very busy all last
Summer upon Bakers Chronicle, which he has quoted several times in his
Disputes with Sir ANDREW FREEPORT since his last coming to Town.
Accordingly I promised to call upon him the next Morning, that we might
go together to the Abby.

I found the Knight under his Butlers Hands, who always shaves him. He
was no sooner Dressed, than he called for a Glass of the Widow Trueby's
Water, which he told me he always drank before he went abroad. He
recommended me to a Dram of it at the same time, with so much
Heartiness, that I could not forbear drinking it. As soon as I had got
it down, I found it very unpalatable; upon which the Knight observing
that I [had] made several wry Faces, told me that he knew I should not
like it at first, but that it was the best thing in the World against
the Stone or Gravel.

I could have wished indeed that he had acquainted me with the Virtues of
it sooner; but it was too late to complain, and I knew what he had done
was out of Good-will. Sir ROGER told me further, that he looked upon it
to be very good for a Man whilst he staid in Town, to keep off
Infection, and that he got together a Quantity of it upon the first News
of the Sickness being at Dautzick: When of a sudden turning short to one
of his Servants, who stood behind him, he bid him call [a [1]] Hackney
Coach, and take care it was an elderly Man that drove it.

He then resumed his Discourse upon Mrs. Trueby's Water, telling me that
the Widow Trueby was one who did more good than all the Doctors and
Apothecaries in the County: That she distilled every Poppy that grew
within five Miles of her; that she distributed her Water gratis among
all Sorts of People; to which the Knight added, that she had a very
great Jointure, and that the whole Country would fain have it a Match
between him and her; and truly, says Sir ROGER, if I had not been
engaged, perhaps I could not have done better.

His Discourse was broken off by his Man's telling him he had called a
Coach. Upon our going to it, after having cast his Eye upon the Wheels,
he asked the Coachman if his Axeltree was good; upon the Fellows
telling him he would warrant it, the Knight turned to me, told me he
looked like an honest Man, and went in without further Ceremony.

We had not gone far, when Sir ROGER popping out his Head, called the
Coach-man down from his Box, and upon his presenting himself at the
Window, asked him if he smoaked; as I was considering what this would
end in, he bid him stop by the way at any good Tobacconists, and take
in a Roll of their best Virginia. Nothing material happened in the
remaining part of our Journey, till we were set down at the Westend of
the Abby.

As we went up the Body of the Church, the Knight pointed at the Trophies
upon one of the new Monuments, and cry'd out, A brave Man, I warrant
him! Passing afterwards by Sir Cloudsly Shovel, he flung his Hand that
way, and cry'd Sir Cloudsly Shovel! a very gallant Man! As we stood
before Busby's Tomb, the Knight utter'd himself again after the same
Manner, Dr. Busby, a great Man! he whipp'd my Grandfather; a very great
Man! I should have gone to him myself, if I had not been a Blockhead; a
very great Man!

We were immediately conducted into the little Chappel on the right hand.
Sir ROGER planting himself at our Historians Elbow, was very attentive
to every thing he said, particularly to the Account he gave us of the
Lord who had cut off the King of Moroccos Head. Among several other
Figures, he was very well pleased to see the Statesman Cecil upon his
Knees; and, concluding them all to be great Men, was conducted to the
Figure which represents that Martyr to good Housewifry, who died by the
prick of a Needle. Upon our Interpreters telling us, that she was a
Maid of Honour to Queen Elizabeth, the Knight was very inquisitive into
her Name and Family; and after having regarded her Finger for some time,
I wonder, says he, that Sir Richard Baker has said nothing of her in his

We were then convey'd to the two Coronation-Chairs, where my old Friend,
after having heard that the Stone underneath the most ancient of them,
which was brought from Scotland, was called Jacob's Pillar, sat himself
down in the Chair; and looking like the Figure of an old Gothick King,
asked our Interpreter, What Authority they had to say, that Jacob had
ever been in Scotland? The Fellow, instead of returning him an Answer,
told him, that he hoped his Honour would pay his Forfeit. I could
observe Sir ROGER a little ruffled upon being thus trepanned; but our
Guide not insisting upon his Demand, the Knight soon recovered his good
Humour, and whispered in my Ear, that if WILL. WIMBLE were with us, and
saw those two Chairs, it would go hard but he would get a
Tobacco-Stopper out of one or tother of them.

Sir ROGER, in the next Place, laid his Hand upon Edward the Thirds
Sword, and leaning upon the Pummel of it, gave us the whole History of
the Black Prince; concluding, that in Sir Richard Bakers Opinion,
Edward the Third was one of the greatest Princes that ever sate upon the
English Throne.

We were then shewn Edward the Confessors Tomb; upon which Sir ROGER
acquainted us, that he was the first who touched for the Evil; and
afterwards Henry the Fourths, upon which he shook his Head, and told us
there was fine Reading in the Casualties in that Reign.

Our Conductor then pointed to that Monument where there is the Figure of
one of our English Kings without an Head; and upon giving us to know,
that the Head, which was of beaten Silver, had been stolen away several
Years since: Some Whig, Ill warrant you, says Sir ROGER; you ought to
lock up your Kings better; they will carry off the Body too, if you
don't take care.

THE glorious Names of Henry the Fifth and Queen Elizabeth gave the
Knight great Opportunities of shining, and of doing Justice to Sir
Richard Baker, who, as our Knight observed with some Surprize, had a
great many Kings in him, whose Monuments he had not seen in the Abby.

For my own part, I could not but be pleased to see the Knight shew such
an honest Passion for the Glory of his Country, and such a respectful
Gratitude to the Memory of its Princes.

I must not omit, that the Benevolence of my good old Friend, which flows
out towards every one he converses with, made him very kind to our
Interpreter, whom he looked upon as an extraordinary Man; for which
reason he shook him by the Hand at parting, telling him, that he should
be very glad to see him at his Lodgings in Norfolk-Buildings, and talk
over these Matters with him more at leisure.


[Footnote 1:[an]]

* * * * *

No. 330. Wednesday, March 19, 1712. Steele.

Maxima debetur pueris reverentia.


The following Letters, written by two very considerate Correspondents,
both under twenty Years of Age, are very good Arguments of the Necessity
of taking into Consideration the many Incidents which affect the
Education of Youth.

I have long expected, that in the Course of your Observations upon
the several Parts of human Life, you would one time or other fall upon
a Subject, which, since you have not, I take the liberty to recommend
to you. What I mean, is the Patronage of young modest Men to such as
are able to countenance and introduce them into the World. For want of
such Assistances, a Youth of Merit languishes in Obscurity or Poverty,
when his Circumstances are low, and runs into Riot and Excess when his
Fortunes are plentiful. I cannot make my self better understood, than
by sending you an History of my self, which I shall desire you to
insert in your Paper, it being the only Way I have of expressing my
Gratitude for the highest Obligations imaginable.

I am the Son of a Merchant of the City of London, who, by many Losses,
was reduced from a very luxuriant Trade and Credit to very narrow
Circumstances, in Comparison to that his former Abundance. This took
away the Vigour of his Mind, and all manner of Attention to a Fortune,
which he now thought desperate; insomuch that he died without a Will,
having before buried my Mother in the midst of his other Misfortunes.
I was sixteen Years of Age when I lost my Father; and an Estate of
L200 a Year came into my Possession, without Friend or Guardian to
instruct me in the Management or Enjoyment of it. The natural
Consequence of this was, (though I wanted no Director, and soon had
Fellows who found me out for a smart young Gentleman, and led me into
all the Debaucheries of which I was capable) that my Companions and I
could not well be supplied without my running in Debt, which I did
very frankly, till I was arrested, and conveyed with a Guard strong
enough for the most desperate Assassine, to a Bayliff's House, where I
lay four Days, surrounded with very merry, but not very agreeable
Company. As soon as I had extricated my self from this shameful
Confinement, I reflected upon it with so much Horror, that I deserted
all my old Acquaintance, and took Chambers in an Inn of Court, with a
Resolution to study the Law with all possible Application. But I
trifled away a whole Year in looking over a thousand Intricacies,
without Friend to apply to in any Case of Doubt; so that I only lived
there among Men, as little Children are sent to School before they are
capable of Improvement, only to be out of harms way. In the midst of
this State of Suspence, not knowing how to dispose of my self, I was
sought for by a Relation of mine, who, upon observing a good
Inclination in me, used me with great Familiarity, and carried me to
his Seat in the Country. When I came there, he introduced me to all
the good Company in the County; and the great Obligation I have to him
for this kind Notice and Residence with him ever since, has made so
strong an Impression upon me, that he has an Authority of a Father
over me, founded upon the Love of a Brother. I have a good Study of
Books, a good Stable of Horses always at my command; and tho I am not
now quite eighteen Years of Age, familiar Converse on his Part, and a
strong Inclination to exert my self on mine, have had an effect upon
me that makes me acceptable wherever I go. Thus, Mr. SPECTATOR, by
this Gentleman's Favour and Patronage, it is my own fault if I am not
wiser and richer every day I live. I speak this as well by subscribing
the initial Letters of my Name to thank him, as to incite others to an
Imitation of his Virtue. It would be a worthy Work to shew what great
Charities are to be done without Expence, and how many noble Actions
are lost, out of Inadvertency in Persons capable of performing them,
if they were put in mind of it. If a Gentleman of Figure in a County
would make his Family a Pattern of Sobriety, good Sense, and Breeding,
and would kindly endeavour to influence the Education and growing
Prospects of the younger Gentry about him, I am apt to believe it
would save him a great deal of stale Beer on a publick Occasion, and
render him the Leader of his Country from their Gratitude to him,
instead of being a Slave to their Riots and Tumults in order to be
made their Representative. The same thing might be recommended to all
who have made any Progress in any Parts of Knowledge, or arrived at
any Degree in a Profession; others may gain Preferments and Fortunes
from their Patrons, but I have, I hope, receiv'd from mine good Habits
and Virtues. I repeat to you, Sir, my Request to print this, in return
for all the Evil an helpless Orphan shall ever escape, and all the
Good he shall receive in this Life; both which are wholly owing to
this Gentleman's Favour to,

Your most obedient humble Servant,
S. P.

I am a Lad of about fourteen. I find a mighty Pleasure in Learning. I
have been at the Latin School four Years. I don't know I ever play'd
[truant, [1]] or neglected any Task my Master set me in my Life. I
think on what I read in School as I go home at noon and night, and so
intently, that I have often gone half a mile out of my way, not
minding whither I went. Our Maid tells me, she often hears me talk
Latin in my sleep. And I dream two or three Nights in the Week I am
reading Juvenal and Homer. My Master seems as well pleased with my
Performances as any Boys in the same Class. I think, if I know my own
Mind, I would chuse rather to be a Scholar, than a Prince without
Learning. I have a very [good [2]] affectionate Father; but tho very
rich, yet so mighty near, that he thinks much of the Charges of my
Education. He often tells me, he believes my Schooling will ruin him;
that I cost him God-knows what in Books. I tremble to tell him I want
one. I am forced to keep my Pocket-Mony, and lay it out for a Book,
now and then, that he don't know of. He has order'd my Master to buy
no more Books for me, but says he will buy them himself. I asked him
for Horace tother Day, and he told me in a Passion, he did not
believe I was fit for it, but only my Master had a Mind to make him
think I had got a great way in my Learning. I am sometimes a Month
behind other Boys in getting the Books my Master gives Orders for. All
the Boys in the School, but I, have the Classick Authors in usum
Delphini, gilt and letter'd on the Back. My Father is often reckoning
up how long I have been at School, and tells me he fears I do little
good. My Fathers Carriage so discourages me, that he makes me grow
dull and melancholy. My Master wonders what is the matter with me; I
am afraid to tell him; for he is a Man that loves to encourage
Learning, and would be apt to chide my Father, and, not knowing my
Fathers Temper, may make him worse. Sir, if you have any Love for
Learning, I beg you would give me some Instructions in this case, and
persuade Parents to encourage their Children when they find them
diligent and desirous of Learning. I have heard some Parents say, they
would do any thing for their Children, if they would but mind their
Learning: I would be glad to be in their place. Dear Sir, pardon my
Boldness. If you will but consider and pity my case, I will pray for
your Prosperity as long as I live.
London, March 2,1711.
Your humble Servant,

James Discipulus.

March the 18th.


The ostentation you showed yesterday would have been pardonable had
you provided better for the two Extremities of your Paper, and placed
in one the letter R., in the other Nescio quid meditans nugarum, et
lotus in illis. A Word to the wise.

I am your most humble Servant,
T. Trash.

According to the Emendation of the above Correspondent, the Reader is
desired in the Paper of the 17th to read R. for T. [3]


[Footnote 1: at truant]

[Footnote 2: loving]

* * * * *

No. 331. Thursday, March 20, 1712. Budgell.

Stolidam praebet tibi vellere barbam.


When I was last with my Friend Sir ROGER in Westminster-Abby, I
observed that he stood longer than ordinary before the Bust of a
venerable old Man. I was at a loss to guess the Reason of it, when after
some time he pointed to the Figure, and asked me if I did not think that
our Fore-fathers looked much wiser in their Beards than we do without
them? For my part, says he, when I am walking in my Gallery in the
Country, and see my Ancestors, who many of them died before they were of
my Age, I cannot forbear regarding them as so many old Patriarchs, and
at the same time looking upon myself as an idle Smock-fac'd young
Fellow. I love to see your Abrahams, your Isaacs, and your Jacob's, as we
have them in old Pieces of Tapestry, with Beards below their Girdles,
that cover half the Hangings. The Knight added, if I would recommend
Beards in one of my Papers, and endeavour to restore human Faces to
their Ancient Dignity, that upon a Months warning he would undertake to
lead up the Fashion himself in a pair of Whiskers.

I smiled at my Friends Fancy; but after we parted, could not forbear
reflecting on the Metamorphoses our Faces have undergone in this

The Beard, conformable to the Notion of my Friend Sir ROGER, was for
many Ages look'd upon as the Type of Wisdom. Lucian more than once
rallies the Philosophers of his Time, who endeavour'd to rival one
another in Beard; and represents a learned Man who stood for a
Professorship in Philosophy, as unqualify'd for it by the Shortness of
his Beard.

AElian, in his Account of Zoilus, the pretended Critick, who wrote
against Homer and Plato, and thought himself wiser than all who had gone
before him, tells us that this Zoilus had a very long Beard that hung
down upon his Breast, but no Hair upon his Head, which he always kept
close shaved, regarding, it seems, the Hairs of his Head as so many
Suckers, which if they had been suffer'd to grow, might have drawn away
the Nourishment from his Chin, and by that means have starved his Beard.

I have read somewhere that one of the Popes refus'd to accept an Edition
of a Saints Works, which were presented to him, because the Saint in
his Effigies before the Book, was drawn without a Beard.

We see by these Instances what Homage the World has formerly paid to
Beards; and that a Barber was not then allow'd to make those
Depredations on the Faces of the Learned, which have been permitted him
of later Years.

Accordingly several wise Nations have been so extremely Jealous of the
least Ruffle offer'd to their Beard, that they seem to have fixed the
Point of Honour principally in that Part. The Spaniards were wonderfully
tender in this Particular.

Don Quevedo, in his third Vision on the Last Judgment, has carry'd the
Humour very far, when he tells us that one of his vain-glorious
Countrymen, after having receiv'd Sentence, was taken into custody by a
couple of evil Spirits; but that his Guides happening to disorder his
Mustachoes, they were forced to recompose them with a Pair of
Curling-irons before they could get him to file off.

If we look into the History of our own Nation, we shall find that the
Beard flourish'd in the Saxon Heptarchy, but was very much discourag'd
under the Norman Line. It shot out, however, from time to time, in
several Reigns under different Shapes. The last Effort it made seems to
have been in Queen Marys Days, as the curious Reader may find, if he
pleases to peruse the Figures of Cardinal Poole, and Bishop Gardiner;
tho at the same time, I think it may be question'd, if Zeal against
Popery has not induced our Protestant Painters to extend the Beards of
these two Persecutors beyond their natural Dimensions, in order to make
them appear the more terrible.

I find but few Beards worth taking notice of in the Reign of King James
the First.

During the Civil Wars there appeared one, which makes too great a Figure
in Story to be passed over in Silence; I mean that of the redoubted
Hudibras, an Account of which Butler has transmitted to Posterity in the
following Lines:

His tawny Beard was th' equal Grace
Both of his Wisdom, and his Face;
In Cut and Dye so like a Tyle,
A sudden View it would beguile:
The upper Part thereof was Whey,
The nether Orange mixt with Grey.

The Whisker continu'd for some time among us after the Expiration of
Beards; but this is a Subject which I shall not here enter upon, having
discussed it at large in a distinct Treatise, which I keep by me in
Manuscript, upon the Mustachoe.

If my Friend Sir ROGERS Project, of introducing Beards, should take
effect, I fear the Luxury of the present Age would make it a very
expensive Fashion. There is no question but the Beaux would soon provide
themselves with false ones of the lightest Colours, and the most
immoderate Lengths. A fair Beard, of the Tapestry-Size Sir ROGER seems
to approve, could not come under twenty Guineas. The famous Golden Beard
of AEsculapius would hardly be more valuable than one made in the
Extravagance of the Fashion.

Besides, we are not certain that the Ladies would not come into the
Mode, when they take the Air on Horse-back. They already appear in Hats
and Feathers, Coats and Perriwigs; and I see no reason why we should not
suppose that they would have their Riding-Beards on the same Occasion.

I may give the Moral of this Discourse, in another Paper,


* * * * *

No. 332. Friday, March 21, 1712. Steele.

Minus aptus acutis
Naribus horum hominum.


Dear Short-Face,

In your Speculation of Wednesday last, you have given us some Account
of that worthy Society of Brutes the Mohocks; wherein you have
particularly specify'd the ingenious Performance of the Lion-Tippers,
the Dancing-Masters, and the Tumblers: But as you acknowledge you had
not then a perfect History of the whole Club, you might very easily
omit one of the most notable Species of it, the Sweaters, which may be
reckon'd a sort of Dancing-Masters too. It is it seems the Custom for
half a dozen, or more, of these well-dispos'd Savages, as soon as
they have inclos'd the Person upon whom they design the Favour of a
Sweat, to whip out their Swords, and holding them parallel to the
Horizon, they describe a sort of Magick Circle round about him with
the Points. As soon as this Piece of Conjuration is perform'd, and the
Patient without doubt already beginning to wax warm, to forward the
Operation, that Member of the Circle towards whom he is so rude as to
turn his Back first, runs his Sword directly into that Part of the
Patient wherein School-boys are punished; and, as it is very natural
to imagine this will soon make him tack about to some other Point,
every Gentleman does himself the same Justice as often as he receives
the Affront. After this Jig has gone two or three times round, and the
Patient is thought to have sweat sufficiently, he is very handsomly
rubb'd down by some Attendants, who carry with them Instruments for
that purpose, and so discharged. This Relation I had from a Friend of
mine, who has lately been under this Discipline. He tells me he had
the Honour to dance before the Emperor himself, not without the
Applause and Acclamations both of his Imperial Majesty, and the whole
Ring; tho I dare say, neither I or any of his Acquaintance ever
dreamt he would have merited any Reputation by his Activity.

I can assure you, Mr. SPEC, I was very near being qualify'd to have
given you a faithful and painful Account of this walking Bagnio, if I
may so call it, my self: For going the other night along Fleet-street,
and having, out of curiosity, just enter'd into Discourse with a
wandring Female who was travelling the same Way, a couple of Fellows
advanced towards us, drew their Swords, and cry out to each other, A
Sweat! a Sweat! Whereupon suspecting they were some of the Ringleaders
of the Bagnio, I also drew my Sword, and demanded a Parly; but finding
none would be granted me, and perceiving others behind them filing off
with great diligence to take me in Flank, I began to sweat for fear of
being forced to it: but very luckily betaking my self to a Pair of
Heels, which I had good Reason to believe would do me justice, I
instantly got possession of a very snug Corner in a neighbouring Alley
that lay in my Rear; which Post I maintain'd for above half an hour
with great Firmness and Resolution, tho not letting this Success so
far overcome me, as to make me unmindful of the Circumspection that
was necessary to be observ'd upon my advancing again towards the
Street; by which Prudence and good Management I made a handsome and
orderly Retreat, having suffer'd no other Damage in this Action than
the Loss of my Baggage, and the Dislocation of one of my Shoe-heels,
which last I am just now inform'd is in a fair way of Recovery. These
Sweaters, by what I can learn from my Friend, and by as near a View as
I was able to take of them my self, seem to me to have at present but
a rude kind of Discipline amongst them. It is probable, if you would
take a little Pains with them, they might be brought into better
order. But Ill leave this to your own Discretion; and will only add,
that if you think it worth while to insert this by way of Caution to
those who have a mind to preserve their Skins whole from this sort of
Cupping, and tell them at the same time the Hazard of treating with
Night-Walkers, you will perhaps oblige others, as well as

Your very humble Servant,

Jack Lightfoot.

P.S. My Friend will have me acquaint you, That though he would not
willingly detract from the Merit of that extra-ordinary Strokes-Man
Mr. Sprightly, yet it is his real Opinion, that some of those Fellows,
who are employ'd as Rubbers to this new-fashioned Bagnio, have struck
as bold Strokes as ever he did in his Life.

I had sent this four and twenty Hours sooner, if I had not had the
Misfortune of being in a great doubt about the Orthography of the word
Bagnio. I consulted several Dictionaries, but found no relief; at last
having recourse both to the Bagnio in Newgate-street, and to that in
Chancery lane, and finding the original Manuscripts upon the
Sign-posts of each to agree literally with my own Spelling, I returned
home, full of Satisfaction, in order to dispatch this Epistle.

As you have taken most of the Circumstances of human Life into your
Consideration, we, the under-written, thought it not improper for us
also to represent to you our Condition. We are three Ladies who live
in the Country, and the greatest Improvements we make is by reading.
We have taken a small Journal of our Lives, and find it extremely
opposite to your last Tuesdays Speculation. We rise by seven, and
pass the beginning of each Day in Devotion, and looking into those
Affairs that fall within the Occurrences of a retired Life; in the
Afternoon we sometimes enjoy the Company of some Friend or Neighbour,
or else work or read; at Night we retire to our Chambers, and take
Leave of each other for the whole Night at Ten of Clock. We take
particular Care never to be sick of a Sunday. Mr. SPECTATOR, We are
all very good Maids, but are ambitious of Characters which we think
more laudable, that of being very good Wives. If any of your
Correspondents enquire for a Spouse for an honest Country Gentleman,
whose Estate is not dipped, and wants a Wife that can save half his
Revenue, and yet make a better Figure than any of his Neighbours of
the same Estate, with finer bred Women, you shall have further notice
Your courteous Readers,
Martha Busie.
Deborah Thrifty.
Alice Early. [1]

[Footnote 1: To this number there is added after a repeated
advertisement of the Lucubrations of Isaac Bickerstaff in 4 vols. 8vo, a
repetition in Italic type of the advertisement of the Boarding School on
Mile-end Green (ending at the words render them accomplish'd) to which
a conspicuous place was given, with original additions by Steele, in No.

* * * * *

No. 333. Saturday, March 22, 1712. Addison.

--vocat in Certamina Divos.


We are now entering upon the Sixth Book of Paradise Lost, in which the
Poet describes the Battel of Angels; having raised his Readers
Expectation, and prepared him for it by several Passages in the
preceding Books. I omitted quoting these Passages in my Observations on
the former Books, having purposely reserved them for the opening of
this, the Subject of which gave occasion to them. The Authors
Imagination was so inflam'd with this great Scene of Action, that
wherever he speaks of it, he rises, if possible, above himself. Thus
where he mentions Satan in the Beginning of his Poem:

--Him the Almighty Power
Hurl'd headlong flaming from th' Ethereal Sky,
With hideous ruin and combustion, down
To bottomless Perdition, there to dwell
In Adamantine Chains and penal Fire,
Who durst defy th' Omnipotent to Arms.

We have likewise several noble Hints of it in the Infernal Conference.

O Prince! O Chief of many throned Powers,
That led th' imbattel'd Seraphim to War,
Too well I see and rue the dire Event,
That with sad Overthrow and foul Defeat
Hath lost us Heavn, and all this mighty Host
In horrible Destruction laid thus low.
But see I the angry Victor has recalled
His Ministers of Vengeance and Pursuit,
Back to the Gates of Heavn: The sulphurous Hail
Shot after us in Storm, overblown, hath laid
The fiery Surge, that from the Precipice
Of Heaven receiv'd us falling: and the Thunder,
Winged with red Lightning and impetuous Rage,
Perhaps hath spent his Shafts, and ceases now
To bellow through the vast and boundless Deep.

There are several other very sublime Images on the same Subject in the
First Book, as also in the Second.

What when we fled amain, pursued and strook
With Heavns afflicting Thunder, and besought
The Deep to shelter us; this Hell then seem'd
A Refuge from those Wounds--

In short, the Poet never mentions anything of this Battel but in such
Images of Greatness and Terror as are suitable to the Subject. Among
several others I cannot forbear quoting that Passage, where the Power,
who is described as presiding over the Chaos, speaks in the Third Book.

Thus Satan; and him thus the Anarch old
With faultring Speech, and Visage incompos'd,
Answer'd, I know thee, Stranger, who thou art,
That mighty leading Angel, who of late
Made Head against Heavens King, tho overthrown.
I saw and heard, for such a numerous Host
Fled not in silence through the frighted Deep
With Ruin upon Ruin, Rout on Rout,
Confusion worse confounded; and Heavns Gates
Pour'd out by Millions her victorious Bands

It requir'd great Pregnancy of Invention, and Strength of Imagination,
to fill this Battel with such Circumstances as should raise and astonish
the Mind of the Reader; and at the same time an Exactness of Judgment,
to avoid every thing that might appear light or trivial. Those who look
into Homer, are surprized to find his Battels still rising one above
another, and improving in Horrour, to the Conclusion of the Iliad.
Milton's Fight of Angels is wrought up with the same Beauty. It is
usher'd in with such Signs of Wrath as are suitable to Omnipotence
incensed. The first Engagement is carry'd on under a Cope of Fire,
occasion'd by the Flights of innumerable burning Darts and Arrows, which
are discharged from either Host. The second Onset is still more
terrible, as it is filled with those artificial Thunders, which seem to
make the Victory doubtful, and produce a kind of Consternation even in
the good Angels. This is follow'd by the tearing up of Mountains and
Promontories; till, in the last place, the Messiah comes forth in the
Fulness of Majesty and Terror, The Pomp of his Appearance amidst the
Roarings of his Thunders, the Flashes of his Lightnings, and the Noise
of his Chariot-Wheels, is described with the utmost Flights of Human

There is nothing in the first and last Days Engagement which does not
appear natural, and agreeable enough to the Ideas most Readers would
conceive of a Fight between two Armies of Angels.

The second Days Engagement is apt to startle an Imagination, which has
not been raised and qualify'd for such a Description, by the reading of
the ancient Poets, and of Homer in particular. It was certainly a very
bold Thought in our Author, to ascribe the first Use of Artillery to the
Rebel Angels. But as such a pernicious Invention may be well supposed to
have proceeded from such Authors, so it entered very properly into the
Thoughts of that Being, who is all along describ'd as aspiring to the
Majesty of his Maker. Such Engines were the only Instruments he could
have made use of to imitate those Thunders, that in all Poetry, both
sacred and profane, are represented as the Arms of the Almighty. The
tearing up the Hills, was not altogether so daring a Thought as the
former. We are, in some measure, prepared for such an Incident by the
Description of the Giants War, which we meet with among the Ancient
Poets. What still made this Circumstance the more proper for the Poets
Use, is the Opinion of many learned Men, that the Fable of the Giants
War, which makes so great a noise in Antiquity, [and gave birth to the
sublimest Description in Hesiod's Works was [l]] an Allegory founded
upon this very Tradition of a Fight between the good and bad Angels.

It may, perhaps, be worth while to consider with what Judgment Milton,
in this Narration, has avoided every thing that is mean and trivial in
the Descriptions of the Latin and Greek Poets; and at the same time
improved every great Hint which he met with in their Works upon this
Subject. Homer in that Passage, which Longinus has celebrated for its
Sublimeness, and which Virgil and Ovid have copy'd after him, tells us,
that the Giants threw Ossa upon Olympus, and Pelion upon Ossa. He adds
an Epithet to Pelion ([Greek: einosiphullon]) which very much swells the
Idea, by bringing up to the Readers Imagination all the Woods that grew
upon it. There is further a great Beauty in his singling out by Name
these three remarkable Mountains, so well known to the Greeks. This last
is such a Beauty as the Scene of Milton's War could not possibly furnish
him with. Claudian, in his Fragment upon the Giants War, has given full
scope to that Wildness of Imagination which was natural to him. He tells
us, that the Giants tore up whole Islands by the Roots, and threw them
at the Gods. He describes one of them in particular taking up Lemnos in
his Arms, and whirling it to the Skies, with all Vulcan's Shop in the
midst of it. Another tears up Mount Ida, with the River Enipeus, which
ran down the Sides of it; but the Poet, not content to describe him with
this Mountain upon his Shoulders, tells us that the River flow'd down
his Back, as he held it up in that Posture. It is visible to every
judicious Reader, that such Ideas savour more of Burlesque, than of the
Sublime. They proceed from a Wantonness of Imagination, and rather
divert the Mind than astonish it. Milton has taken every thing that is
sublime in these several Passages, and composes out of them the
following great Image.

From their Foundations loosning to and fro,
They pluck'd the seated Hills, with all their Land,
Rocks, Waters, Woods; and by the shaggy Tops
Up-lifting bore them in their Hands--

We have the full Majesty of Homer in this short Description, improv'd by
the Imagination of Claudian, without its Puerilities. I need not point
out the Description of the fallen Angels seeing the Promontories hanging
over their Heads in such a dreadful manner, with the other numberless
Beauties in this Book, which are so conspicuous, that they cannot escape
the Notice of the most ordinary Reader.

There are indeed so many wonderful Strokes of Poetry in this Book, and
such a variety of Sublime Ideas, that it would have been impossible to
have given them a place within the bounds of this Paper. Besides that, I
find it in a great measure done to my hand at the End of my Lord
Roscommon's Essay on Translated Poetry. I shall refer my Reader thither
for some of the Master Strokes in the Sixth Book of Paradise Lost, tho
at the same time there are many others which that noble Author has not
taken notice of.

Milton, notwithstanding the sublime Genius he was Master of, has in this
Book drawn to his Assistance all the Helps he could meet with among the
Ancient Poets. The Sword of Michael, which makes so great [a [2]] havock
among the bad Angels, was given him, we are told, out of the Armory of

--But the Sword
Of Michael from the Armory of God
Was given him tempered so, that neither keen
Nor solid might resist that Edge: It met
The Sword of Satan, with steep Force to smite
Descending, and in half cut sheer--

This Passage is a Copy of that in Virgil, wherein the Poet tells us,
that the Sword of AEneas, which was given him by a Deity, broke into
Pieces the Sword of Turnus, which came from a mortal Forge. As the Moral
in this Place is divine, so by the way we may observe, that the
bestowing on a Man who is favoured by Heaven such an allegorical Weapon,
is very conformable to the old Eastern way of Thinking. Not only Homer
has made use of it, but we find the Jewish Hero in the Book of
Maccabees, who had fought the Battels of the chosen People with so much
Glory and Success, receiving in his Dream a Sword from the Hand of the
Prophet Jeremiah. The following Passage, wherein Satan is described as
wounded by the Sword of Michael, is in imitation of Homer.

The griding Sword with discontinuous Wound
Passed through him; butt the Ethereal Substance closed
Not long divisible; and from the Gash
A Stream of Nectarous Humour issuing flowed
Sanguine, (such as celestial Spirits may bleed)
And all his Armour stained--

Homer tells us in the same manner, that upon Diomedes wounding the Gods,
there flow'd from the Wound an Ichor, or pure kind of Blood, which was
not bred from mortal Viands; and that tho the Pain was exquisitely
great, the Wound soon closed up and healed in those Beings who are
vested with Immortality.

I question not but Milton in his Description of his furious Moloch
flying from the Battel, and bellowing with the Wound he had received,
had his Eye on Mars in the Iliad; who, upon his being wounded, is
represented as retiring out of the Fight, and making an Outcry louder
than that of a whole Army when it begins the Charge. Homer adds, that
the Greeks and Trojans, who were engaged in a general Battel, were
terrify'd on each side with the bellowing of this wounded Deity. The
Reader will easily observe how Milton has kept all the Horrour of this
Image, without running into the Ridicule of it.

--Where the Might of Gabriel fought,
And with fierce Ensigns pierc'd the deep Array
Of Moloch, furious King! who him defy'd,
And at his Chariot-wheels to drag him bound
Threaten'd, nor from the Holy One of Heavn
Refrained his Tongue blasphemous: but anon
Down cloven to the Waste, with shattered Arms
And uncouth Pain fled bellowing.--

Milton has likewise raised his Description in this Book with many Images
taken out of the poetical Parts of Scripture. The Messiahs Chariot, as
I have before taken notice, is formed upon a Vision of Ezekiel, who, as
Grotius observes, has very much in him of Homers Spirit in the Poetical
Parts of his Prophecy.

The following Lines in that glorious Commission which is given the
Messiah to extirpate the Host of Rebel Angels, is drawn from a Sublime
Passage in the Psalms.

Go then thou Mightiest in thy Fathers Might!
Ascend my Chariot, guide the rapid Wheels
That shake Heavns Basis; bring forth all my War,
My Bow, my Thunder, my Almighty Arms,
Gird on thy Sword on thy puissant Thigh.

The Reader will easily discover many other Strokes of the same nature.

There is no question but Milton had heated his Imagination with the
Fight of the Gods in Homer, before he enter'd upon this Engagement of
the Angels. Homer there gives us a Scene of Men, Heroes, and Gods, mix'd
together in Battel. Mars animates the contending Armies, and lifts up
his Voice in such a manner, that it is heard distinctly amidst all the
Shouts and Confusion of the Fight. Jupiter at the same time Thunders
over their Heads; while Neptune raises such a Tempest, that the whole
Field of Battel and all the Tops of the Mountains shake about them. The
Poet tells us, that Pluto himself, whose Habitation was in the very
Center of the Earth, was so affrighted at the Shock, that he leapt from
his Throne. Homer afterwards describes Vulcan as pouring down a Storm of
Fire upon the River Xanthus, and Minerva as throwing a Rock at Mars;
who, he tells us, cover'd seven Acres in his Fall.

As Homer has introduced into his Battel of the Gods every thing that is
great and terrible in Nature, Milton has filled his Fight of good and
bad Angels with all the like Circumstances of Horrour. The Shout of
Armies, the Rattling of Brazen Chariots, the Hurling of Rocks and
Mountains, the Earthquake, the Fire, the Thunder, are all of them
employ'd to lift up the Readers Imagination, and give him a suitable
Idea of so great an Action. With what Art has the Poet represented the
whole Body of the Earth trembling, even before it was created.

All Heaven resounded, and had Earth been then,
All Earth had to its Center shook--

In how sublime and just a manner does he afterwards describe the whole
Heaven shaking under the Wheels of the Messiahs Chariot, with that
Exception to the Throne of God?

--Under his burning Wheels
The stedfast Empyrean shook throughout,
All but the Throne it self of God--

Notwithstanding the Messiah appears clothed with so much Terrour and
Majesty, the Poet has still found means to make his Readers conceive an
Idea of him, beyond what he himself was able to describe.

Yet half his Strength he put not forth, but checkt
His Thunder in mid Volley; for he meant
Not to destroy, but root them out of Heaven.

In a Word, Milton's Genius, which was so great in it self, and so
strengthened by all the helps of Learning, appears in this Book every
way equal to his Subject, which was the most Sublime that could enter
into the Thoughts of a Poet. As he knew all the Arts of affecting the
Mind, [he knew it was necessary to give [3]] it certain Resting-places
and Opportunities of recovering it self from time to time: He has
[therefore] with great Address interspersed several Speeches,
Reflections, Similitudes, and the like Reliefs to diversify his
Narration, and ease the Attention of [the [4]] Reader, that he might
come fresh to his great Action, and by such a Contrast of Ideas, have a
more lively taste of the nobler Parts of his Description.


[Footnote 1: [is]]

[Footnote 2: [an]]

[Footnote 3: had he not given]

[Footnote 4: his]

* * * * *

No. 334. Monday, March 24, 1712. Steele

Voluisti in suo Genere, unumquemque nostrum quasi quendam esse
Roscium, dixistique non tam ea quae recta essent probari, quam quae
prava sunt fastidiis adhaerescere.

Cicero de Gestu.

It is very natural to take for our whole Lives a light Impression of a
thing which at first fell into Contempt with us for want of
Consideration. The real Use of a certain Qualification (which the wiser
Part of Mankind look upon as at best an indifferent thing, and generally
a frivolous Circumstance) shews the ill Consequence of such
Prepossessions. What I mean, is the Art, Skill, Accomplishment, or
whatever you will call it, of Dancing. I knew a Gentleman of great
Abilities, who bewail'd the Want of this Part of his Education to the
End of a very honourable Life. He observ'd that there was not occasion
for the common Use of great Talents; that they are but seldom in Demand;
and that these very great Talents were often render'd useless to a Man
for want of small Attainments. A good Mein (a becoming Motion, Gesture
and Aspect) is natural to some Men; but even these would be highly more
graceful in their Carriage, if what they do from the Force of Nature
were confirm'd and heightned from the Force of Reason. To one who has
not at all considered it, to mention the Force of Reason on such a
Subject, will appear fantastical; but when you have a little attended to
it, an Assembly of Men will have quite another View: and they will tell
you, it is evident from plain and infallible Rules, why this Man with
those beautiful Features, and well fashion'd Person, is not so agreeable
as he who sits by him without any of those Advantages. When we read, we
do it without any exerted Act of Memory that presents the Shape of the
Letters; but Habit makes us do it mechanically, without staying, like
Children, to recollect and join those Letters. A Man who has not had the
Regard of his Gesture in any part of his Education, will find himself
unable to act with Freedom before new Company, as a Child that is but
now learning would be to read without Hesitation. It is for the
Advancement of the Pleasure we receive in being agreeable to each other
in ordinary Life, that one would wish Dancing were generally understood
as conducive as it really is to a proper Deportment in Matters that
appear the most remote from it. A Man of Learning and Sense is
distinguished from others as he is such, tho he never runs upon Points
too difficult for the rest of the World; in like Manner the reaching out
of the Arm, and the most ordinary Motion, discovers whether a Man ever
learnt to know what is the true Harmony and Composure of his Limbs and
Countenance. Whoever has seen Booth in the Character of Pyrrhus, march
to his Throne to receive Orestes, is convinced that majestick and great
Conceptions are expressed in the very Step; but perhaps, tho no other
Man could perform that Incident as well as he does, he himself would do
it with a yet greater Elevation were he a Dancer. This is so dangerous a
Subject to treat with Gravity, that I shall not at present enter into it
any further; but the Author of the following Letter [1] has treated it
in the Essay he speaks of in such a Manner, that I am beholden to him
for a Resolution, that I will never hereafter think meanly of any thing,
till I have heard what they who have another Opinion of it have to say
in its Defence.

Since there are scarce any of the Arts or Sciences that have not been
recommended to the World by the Pens of some of the Professors,
Masters, or Lovers of them, whereby the Usefulness, Excellence, and
Benefit arising from them, both as to the Speculative and practical
Part, have been made publick, to the great Advantage and Improvement
of such Arts and Sciences; why should Dancing, an Art celebrated by
the Ancients in so extraordinary a Manner, be totally neglected by the
Moderns, and left destitute of any Pen to recommend its various
Excellencies and substantial Merit to Mankind?

The low Ebb to which Dancing is now fallen, is altogether owing to
this Silence. The Art is esteem'd only as an amusing Trifle; it lies
altogether uncultivated, and is unhappily fallen under the Imputation
of Illiterate and Mechanick: And as Terence in one of his Prologues,
complains of the Rope-dancers drawing all the Spectators from his
Play, so may we well say, that Capering and Tumbling is now preferred
to, and supplies the Place of just and regular Dancing on our
Theatres. It is therefore, in my opinion, high time that some one
should come in to its Assistance, and relieve it from the many gross
and growing Errors that have crept into it, and over-cast its real
Beauties; and to set Dancing in its true light, would shew the
Usefulness and Elegancy of it, with the Pleasure and Instruction
produc'd from it; and also lay down some fundamental Rules, that might
so tend to the Improvement of its Professors, and Information of the
Spectators, that the first might be the better enabled to perform, and
the latter render'd more capable of judging, what is (if there be any
thing) valuable in this Art.

To encourage therefore some ingenious Pen capable of so generous an
Undertaking, and in some measure to relieve Dancing from the
Disadvantages it at present lies under, I, who teach to dance, have
attempted a small Treatise as an Essay towards an History of Dancing;
in which I have enquired into its Antiquity, Original, and Use, and
shewn what Esteem the Ancients had for it: I have likewise considered
the Nature and Perfection of all its several Parts, and how beneficial
and delightful it is, both as a Qualification and an Exercise; and
endeavoured to answer all Objections that have been maliciously rais'd
against it. I have proceeded to give an Account of the particular
Dances of the Greeks and Romans, whether religious, warlike, or civil;
and taken particular notice of that Part of Dancing relating to the
ancient Stage, and in which the Pantomimes had so great a share: Nor
have I been wanting in giving an historical Account of some particular
Masters excellent in that surprising Art. After which, I have advanced
some Observations on the modern Dancing, both as to the Stage, and
that Part of it so absolutely necessary for the Qualification of
Gentlemen and Ladies; and have concluded with some short Remarks on
the Origin and Progress of the Character by which Dances are writ
down, and communicated to one Master from another. If some great
Genius after this would arise, and advance this Art to that Perfection
it seems capable of receiving, what might not be expected from it? For
if we consider the Origin of Arts and Sciences, we shall find that
some of them took rise from Beginnings so mean and unpromising, that
it is very wonderful to think that ever such surprizing Structures
should have been raised upon such ordinary Foundations. But what
cannot a great Genius effect? Who would have thought that the
clangorous Noise of a Smiths Hammers should have given the first rise
to Musick? Yet Macrobius in his second Book relates, that Pythagoras,
in passing by a Smiths Shop, found that the Sounds proceeding from
the Hammers were either more grave or acute, according to the
different Weights of the Hammers. The Philosopher, to improve this
Hint, suspends different Weights by Strings of the same Bigness, and
found in like manner that the Sounds answered to the Weights. This
being discover'd, he finds out those Numbers which produc'd Sounds
that were Consonants: As, that two Strings of the same Substance and
Tension, the one being double the Length, of the other, give that
Interval which is called Diapason, or an Eighth; the same was also
effected from two Strings of the same Length and Size, the one having
four times the Tension of the other. By these Steps, from so mean a
Beginning, did this great Man reduce, what was only before Noise, to
one of the most delightful Sciences, by marrying it to the
Mathematicks; and by that means caused it to be one of the most
abstract and demonstrative of Sciences. Who knows therefore but
Motion, whether Decorous or Representative, may not (as it seems
highly probable it may) be taken into consideration by some Person
capable of reducing it into a regular Science, tho not so
demonstrative as that proceeding from Sounds, yet sufficient to
entitle it to a Place among the magnify'd Arts.

Now, Mr. SPECTATOR, as you have declared your self Visitor of
Dancing-Schools, and this being an Undertaking which more immediately
respects them, I think my self indispensably obliged, before I proceed
to the Publication of this my Essay, to ask your Advice, and hold it
absolutely necessary to have your Approbation; and in order to
recommend my Treatise to the Perusal of the Parents of such as learn
to dance, as well as to the young Ladies, to whom, as Visitor, you
ought to be Guardian.

I am, SIR,

Your most humble Servant.

Salop, March 19, 1711-12.


[Footnote 1: John Weaver.]

* * * * *

No. 335. Tuesday, March 25, 1712. Addison.

Respicere exemplar vitae morumque jubebo
Doctum imitatorem, et veras hinc ducere voces.


My Friend Sir ROGER DE COVERLEY, when we last met together at the Club,
told me, that he had a great mind to see the new Tragedy [1] with me,
assuring me at the same time, that he had not been at a Play these
twenty Years. The last I saw, said Sir ROGER, was the Committee, which I
should not have gone to neither, had not I been told before-hand that it
was a good Church-of-England Comedy. [2] He then proceeded to enquire of
me who this Distrest Mother was; and upon hearing that she was Hectors
Widow, he told me that her Husband was a brave Man, and that when he was
a Schoolboy he had read his Life at the end of the Dictionary. My Friend
asked me, in the next place, if there would not be some danger in coming
home late, in case the Mohocks should be Abroad. I assure you, says he,
I thought I had fallen into their Hands last Night; for I observed two
or three lusty black Men that follow'd me half way up Fleet-street, and
mended their pace behind me, in proportion as I put on to get away from
them. You must know, continu'd the Knight with a Smile, I fancied they
had a mind to hunt me; for I remember an honest Gentleman in my
Neighbourhood, who was served such a trick in King Charles the Seconds
time; for which reason he has not ventured himself in Town ever since. I
might have shown them very good Sport, had this been their Design; for
as I am an old Fox-hunter, I should have turned and dodg'd, and have
play'd them a thousand tricks they had never seen in their Lives before.
Sir ROGER added, that if these Gentlemen had any such Intention, they
did not succeed very well in it: for I threw them out, says he, at the
End of Norfolk street, where I doubled the Corner, and got shelter in my
Lodgings before they could imagine what was become of me. However, says
the Knight, if Captain SENTRY will make one with us to-morrow night, and
if you will both of you call upon me about four a-Clock, that we may be
at the House before it is full, I will have my own Coach in readiness to
attend you, for John tells me he has got the Fore-Wheels mended.

The Captain, who did not fail to meet me there at the appointed Hour,
bid Sir ROGER fear nothing, for that he had put on the same Sword which
he made use of at the Battel of Steenkirk. Sir ROGERS Servants, and
among the rest my old Friend the Butler, had, I found, provided
themselves with good Oaken Plants, to attend their Master upon this
occasion. When he had placed him in his Coach, with my self at his
Left-Hand, the Captain before him, and his Butler at the Head of his
Footmen in the Rear, we convoy'd him in safety to the Play-house, where,
after having marched up the Entry in good order, the Captain and I went
in with him, and seated him betwixt us in the Pit. As soon as the House
was full, and the Candles lighted, my old Friend stood up and looked
about him with that Pleasure, which a Mind seasoned with Humanity
naturally feels in its self, at the sight of a Multitude of People who
seem pleased with one another, and partake of the same common
Entertainment. I could not but fancy to myself, as the old Man stood up
in the middle of the Pit, that he made a very proper Center to a Tragick
Audience. Upon the entring of Pyrrhus, the Knight told me, that he did
not believe the King of France himself had a better Strut. I was indeed
very attentive to my old Friends Remarks, because I looked upon them as
a Piece of natural Criticism, and was well pleased to hear him at the
Conclusion of almost every Scene, telling me that he could not imagine
how the Play would end. One while he appeared much concerned for
Andromache; and a little while after as much for Hermione: and was
extremely puzzled to think what would become of Pyrrhus.

When Sir ROGER saw Andromache's obstinate Refusal to her Lovers
Importunities, he whisper'd me in the Ear, that he was sure she would
never have him; to which he added, with a more than ordinary Vehemence,
you cant imagine, Sir, what tis to have to do with a Widow. Upon
Pyrrhus his threatning afterwards to leave her, the Knight shook his
Head, and muttered to himself, Ay, do if you can. This Part dwelt so
much upon my Friends Imagination, that at the close of the Third Act,
as I was thinking of something else, he whispered in my Ear, These
Widows, Sir, are the most perverse Creatures in the World. But pray,
says he, you that are a Critick, is this Play according to your
Dramatick Rules, as you call them? Should your People in Tragedy always
talk to be understood? Why, there is not a single Sentence in this Play
that I do not know the Meaning of.

The Fourth Act very luckily begun before I had time to give the old
Gentleman an Answer: Well, says the Knight, sitting down with great
Satisfaction, I suppose we are now to see Hectors Ghost. He then
renewed his Attention, and, from time to time, fell a praising the
Widow. He made, indeed, a little Mistake as to one of her Pages, whom at
his first entering, he took for Astyanax; but he quickly set himself
right in that Particular, though, at the same time, he owned he should
have been very glad to have seen the little Boy, who, says he, must
needs be a very fine Child by the Account that is given of him. Upon
Hermione's going off with a Menace to Pyrrhus, the Audience gave a loud
Clap; to which Sir ROGER added, On my Word, a notable young Baggage!

As there was a very remarkable Silence and Stillness in the Audience
during the whole Action, it was natural for them to take the Opportunity
of these Intervals between the Acts, to express their Opinion of the
Players, and of their respective Parts. Sir ROGER hearing a Cluster of
them praise Orestes, struck in with them, and told them, that he thought
his Friend Pylades was a very sensible Man; as they were afterwards
applauding Pyrrhus, Sir ROGER put in a second time; And let me tell you,
says he, though he speaks but little, I like the old Fellow in Whiskers
as well as any of them. Captain SENTRY seeing two or three Waggs who sat
near us, lean with an attentive Ear towards Sir ROGER, and fearing lest
they should Smoke the Knight, pluck'd him by the Elbow, and whisper'd
something in his Ear. that lasted till the Opening of the Fifth Act. The
Knight was wonderfully attentive to the Account which Orestes gives of
Pyrrhus his Death, and at the Conclusion of it, told me it was such a
bloody Piece of Work, that he was glad it was not done upon the Stage.
Seeing afterwards Orestes in his raving Fit, he grew more than ordinary
serious, and took occasion to moralize (in his way) upon an Evil
Conscience, adding, that Orestes, in his Madness, looked as if he saw

As we were the first that came into the House, so we were the last that
went out of it; being resolved to have a clear Passage for our old
Friend, whom we did not care to venture among the justling of the Crowd.
Sir ROGER went out fully satisfied with his Entertainment, and we
guarded him to his Lodgings in the same manner that we brought him to
the Playhouse; being highly pleased, for my own part, not only with the
Performance of the excellent Piece which had been presented, but with
the Satisfaction which it had given to the good old Man.


[Footnote 1: This is a fourth puff (see Nos. 223, 229, 290) of Addison's
friend Ambrose Philips. The art of packing a house to secure applause
was also practised on the first night of the acting of this version of

[Footnote 2: The Committee, or the Faithful Irishman, was written by Sir
Robert Howard soon after the Restoration, with for its heroes two
Cavalier colonels, whose estates are sequestered, and their man Teg
(Teague), an honest blundering Irishman. The Cavaliers defy the
Roundhead Committee, and the day may come says one of them, when
those that suffer for their consciences and honour may be rewarded.
Nobody who heard this from the stage in the days of Charles II. could
feel that the day had come. Its comic Irishman kept the Committee on the
stage, and in Queen Anne's time the thorough Tory still relished the
stage caricature of the maintainers of the Commonwealth in Mr. Day with
his greed, hypocrisy, and private incontinence; his wife, who had been
cookmaid to a gentleman, but takes all the State matters on herself; and
their empty son Abel, who knows Parliament-men and Sequestrators, and
whose profound contemplations are caused by the constervation of his
spirits for the nations good.]

* * * * *

No. 336. Wednesday, March 26, 1712. Steele.

--Clament periisse pudorem
Cuncti pene patres, ea cum reprehendere coner,
Quae gravis AEsopus, quae doctus Roscius egit:
Vel quia nil rectum, nisi quod placuit sibi, ducunt;
Vel quia turpe putant parere minoribus, et, quae
Imberbes didicere, senes perdenda fateri.



As you are the daily Endeavourer to promote Learning and good Sense,
I think myself obliged to suggest to your Consideration whatever may
promote or prejudice them.. There is an Evil which has prevailed from
Generation to Generation, which grey Hairs and tyrannical Custom
continue to support; I hope your Spectatorial Authority will give a
seasonable Check to the Spread of the Infection; I mean old Mens
overbearing the strongest Sense of their Juniors by the mere Force of
Seniority; so that for a young Man in the Bloom of Life and Vigour of
Age to give a reasonable Contradiction to his Elders, is esteemed an
unpardonable Insolence, and regarded as a reversing the Decrees of
Nature. I am a young Man, I confess, yet I honour the grey Head as


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