The Spectator, Volume 2.
Addison and Steele

Part 9 out of 19

Head. What would a Foreigner, or one who is a Stranger to this Practice,
think of a Lover that forsakes his Mistress, because he is not willing
to keep her in Pins; but what would he think of the Mistress, should he
be informed that she asks five or six hundred Pounds a Year for this
use? Should a Man unacquainted with our Customs be told the Sums which
are allowed in Great Britain, under the Title of Pin-money, what a
prodigious Consumption of Pins would he think there was in this Island?
A Pin a Day, says our frugal Proverb, is a Groat a Year, so that
according to this Calculation, my Friend Fribbles Wife must every Year
make use of Eight Millions six hundred and forty thousand new Pins.

I am not ignorant that our British Ladies allege they comprehend under
this general Term several other Conveniencies of Life; I could therefore
wish, for the Honour of my Countrywomen, that they had rather called it
Needle-Money, which might have implied something of Good-housewifry, and
not have given the malicious World occasion to think, that Dress and
Trifles have always the uppermost Place in a Woman's Thoughts.

I know several of my fair Reasoners urge, in defence of this Practice,
that it is but a necessary Provision they make for themselves, in case
their Husband proves a Churl or a Miser; so that they consider this
Allowance as a kind of Alimony, which they may lay their Claim to,
without actually separating from their Husbands. But with Submission, I
think a Woman who will give up her self to a Man in Marriage, where
there is the least Room for such an Apprehension, and trust her Person
to one whom she will not rely on for the common Necessaries of Life, may
very properly be accused (in the Phrase of an homely Proverb) of being
Penny wise and Pound foolish.

It is observed of over-cautious Generals, that they never engage in a
Battel without securing a Retreat, in case the Event should not answer
their Expectations; on the other hand, the greatest Conquerors have
burnt their Ships, or broke down the Bridges behind them, as being
determined either to succeed or die in the Engagement. In the same
manner I should very much suspect a Woman who takes such Precautions for
her Retreat, and contrives Methods how she may live happily, without the
Affection of one to whom she joins herself for Life. Separate Purses
between Man and Wife are, in my Opinion, as unnatural as separate Beds.
A Marriage cannot be happy, where the Pleasures, Inclinations, and
Interests of both Parties are not the same. There is no greater
Incitement to Love in the Mind of Man, than the Sense of a Persons
depending upon him for her Ease and Happiness; as a Woman uses all her
Endeavours to please the Person whom she looks upon as her Honour, her
Comfort, and her Support.

For this Reason I am not very much surprized at the Behaviour of a rough
Country Squire, who, being not a little shocked at the Proceeding of a
young Widow that would not recede from her Demands of Pin-money, was so
enraged at her mercenary Temper, that he told her in great Wrath, As
much as she thought him her Slave, he would shew all the World he did
not care a Pin for her. Upon which he flew out of the Room, and never
saw her more.

Socrates, in Plato's Altibiades, says, he was informed by one, who had
travelled through Persia, that as he passed over a great Tract of Lands,
and enquired what the Name of the Place was, they told him it was the
Queens Girdle; to which he adds, that another wide Field which lay by
it, was called the Queens Veil; and that in the same Manner there was a
large Portion of Ground set aside for every part of Her Majesty's
Dress. These Lands might not be improperly called the Queen of Persia's

I remember my Friend Sir ROGER, who I dare say never read this Passage
in Plato, told me some time since, that upon his courting the Perverse
Widow (of whom I have given an Account in former Papers) he had disposed
of an hundred Acres in a Diamond-Ring, which he would have presented her
with, had she thought fit to accept it; and that upon her Wedding-Day
she should have carried on her Head fifty of the tallest Oaks upon his
Estate. He further informed me that he would have given her a Cole-pit
to keep her in clean Linnen, that he would have allowed her the Profits
of a Windmill for her Fans, and have presented her once in three Years
with the Sheering of his Sheep [for her [1]] Under-Petticoats. To which
the Knight always adds, that though he did not care for fine Cloaths
himself, there should not have been a Woman in the Country better
dressed than my Lady Coverley. Sir ROGER perhaps, may in this, as well
as in many other of his Devices, appear something odd and singular, but
if the Humour of Pin-money prevails, I think it would be very proper for
every Gentleman of an Estate to mark out so many Acres of it under the
Title of The Pins.


[Footnote 1: [to keep her in]]

* * * * *

No. 296. Friday, February 8, 1712. Steele.

Nugis addere pondus.


Dear SPEC.

Having lately conversed much with the Fair Sex on the Subject of your
Speculations, (which since their Appearance in Publick, have been the
chief Exercise of the Female loquacious Faculty) I found the fair Ones
possess'd with a Dissatisfaction at your prefixing Greek Mottos to
the Frontispiece of your late Papers; and, as a Man of Gallantry, I
thought it a Duty incumbent on me to impart it to you, in Hopes of a
Reformation, which is only to be effected by a Restoration of the
Latin to the usual Dignity in your Papers, which of late, the Greek,
to the great Displeasure of your Female Readers, has usurp'd; for tho
the Latin has the Recommendation of being as unintelligible to them as
the Greek, yet being written of the same Character with their
Mother-Tongue, by the Assistance of a Spelling-Book its legible;
which Quality the Greek wants: And since the Introduction of Operas
into this Nation, the Ladies are so charmed with Sounds abstracted
from their Ideas, that they adore and honour the Sound of Latin as it
is old Italian. I am a Sollicitor for the Fair Sex, and therefore
think my self in that Character more likely to be prevalent in this
Request, than if I should subscribe myself by my proper Name.

I desire you may insert this in one of your Speculations, to shew my
Zeal for removing the Dissatisfaction of the Fair Sex, and restoring
you to their Favour.


I was some time since in Company with a young Officer, who entertained
us with the Conquest he had made over a Female Neighbour of his; when
a Gentleman who stood by, as I suppose, envying the Captains good
Fortune, asked him what Reason he had to believe the Lady admired him?
Why, says he, my Lodgings are opposite to hers, and she is continually
at her Window either at Work, Reading, taking Snuff, or putting her
self in some toying Posture on purpose to draw my Eyes that Way. The
Confession of this vain Soldier made me reflect on some of my own
Actions; for you must know, Sir, I am often at a Window which fronts
the Apartments of several Gentlemen, who I doubt not have the same
Opinion of me. I must own I love to look at them all, one for being
well dressed, a second for his fine Eye, and one particular one,
because he is the least Man I ever saw; but there is something so
easie and pleasant in the Manner of my little Man, that I observe he
is a Favourite of all his Acquaintance. I could go on to tell you of
many others that I believe think I have encouraged them from my
Window: But pray let me have your Opinion of the Use of the Window in
a beautiful Lady: and how often she may look out at the same Man,
without being supposed to have a Mind to jump out to him. Yours,
Aurelia Careless.



I have for some Time made Love to a Lady, who received it with all
the kind Returns I ought to expect. But without any Provocation, that
I know of, she has of late shunned me with the utmost Abhorrence,
insomuch that she went out of Church last Sunday in the midst of
Divine Service, upon my coming into the same Pew. Pray, Sir, what must
I do in this Business?
Your Servant,

Let her alone Ten Days.

York, Jan. 20, 1711-12.


We have in this Town a sort of People who pretend to Wit and write
Lampoons: I have lately been the Subject of one of them. The Scribler
had not Genius enough in Verse to turn my Age, as indeed I am an old
Maid, into Raillery, for affecting a youthier Turn than is consistent
with my Time of Day; and therefore he makes the Title to his Madrigal,
The Character of Mrs. Judith Lovebane, born in the Year [1680. [1]]
What I desire of you is, That you disallow that a Coxcomb who pretends
to write Verse, should put the most malicious Thing he can say in
Prose. This I humbly conceive will disable our Country Wits, who
indeed take a great deal of Pains to say any thing in Rhyme, tho they
say it very ill.
I am, SIR,
Your Humble Servant,
Susanna Lovebane.

We are several of us, Gentlemen and Ladies, who Board in the same
House, and after Dinner one of our Company (an agreeable Man enough
otherwise) stands up and reads your Paper to us all. We are the
civillest People in the World to one another, and therefore I am
forced to this way of desiring our Reader, when he is doing this
Office, not to stand afore the Fire. This will be a general Good to
our Family this cold Weather. He will, I know, take it to be our
common Request when he comes to these Words, Pray, Sir, sit down;
which I desire you to insert, and you will particularly oblige
Your Daily Reader,
Charity Frost.


I am a great Lover of Dancing, but cannot perform so well as some
others; however, by my Out-of-the-Way Capers, and some original
Grimaces, I don't fail to divert the Company, particularly the Ladies,
who laugh immoderately all the Time. Some, who pretend to be my
Friends, tell me they do it in Derision, and would advise me to leave
it off, withal that I make my self ridiculous. I don't know what to do
in this Affair, but I am resolved not to give over upon any
Account, till I have the Opinion of the SPECTATOR.
Your humble Servant,
John Trott.

If Mr. Trott is not awkward out of Time, he has a Right to Dance let who
will Laugh: But if he has no Ear he will interrupt others; and I am of
Opinion he should sit still.

Given under my Hand this Fifth of February, 1711-12.



[Footnote 1: 1750]

* * * * *

No. 297. Saturday, February 9, 1712. Addison

--velut si
Egregio inspersos reprendas corpore naevos.


After what I have said in my last Saturdays Paper, I shall enter on the
Subject of this without further Preface, and remark the several Defects
which appear in the Fable, the Characters, the Sentiments, and the
Language of Milton's Paradise Lost; not doubting but the Reader will
pardon me, if I alledge at the same time whatever may be said for the
Extenuation of such Defects. The first Imperfection which I shall
observe in the Fable is that the Event of it is unhappy.

The Fable of every Poem is, according to Aristotle's Division, either
Simple or Implex [1]. It is called Simple when there is no change of
Fortune in it: Implex, when the Fortune of the chief Actor changes from
Bad to Good, or from Good to Bad. The Implex Fable is thought the most
perfect; I suppose, because it is more proper to stir up the Passions of
the Reader, and to surprize him with a greater Variety of Accidents.

The Implex Fable is therefore of two kinds: In the first the chief Actor
makes his Way through a long Series of Dangers and Difficulties, till he
arrives at Honour and Prosperity, as we see in the [Story of Ulysses.
[2]] In the second, the chief Actor in the Poem falls from some eminent
Pitch of Honour and Prosperity, into Misery and Disgrace. Thus we see
Adam and Eve sinking from a State of Innocence and Happiness, into the
most abject Condition of Sin and Sorrow.

The most taking Tragedies among the Ancients were built on this last
sort of Implex Fable, particularly the Tragedy of Oedipus, which
proceeds upon a Story, if we may believe Aristotle, the most proper for
Tragedy that could be invented by the Wit of Man. [3] I have taken some
Pains in a former Paper to shew, that this kind of Implex Fable, wherein
the Event is unhappy, is more apt to affect an Audience than that of the
first kind; notwithstanding many excellent Pieces among the Ancients, as
well as most of those which have been written of late Years in our own
Country, are raised upon contrary Plans. I must however own, that I
think this kind of Fable, which is the most perfect in Tragedy, is not
so proper for an Heroic Poem.

Milton seems to have been sensible of this Imperfection in his Fable,
and has therefore endeavoured to cure it by several Expedients;
particularly by the Mortification which the great Adversary of Mankind
meets with upon his Return to the Assembly of Infernal Spirits, as it is
described in [a, [4]] beautiful Passage of the Tenth Book; and likewise
by the Vision wherein Adam at the close of the Poem sees his Off-spring
triumphing over his great Enemy, and himself restored to a happier
Paradise than that from which he fell.

There is another Objection against Milton's Fable, which is indeed
almost the same with the former, tho placed in a different Light,
namely, That the Hero in the Paradise Lost is unsuccessful, and by no
means a Match for his Enemies. This gave Occasion to Mr. Dryden's
Reflection, that the Devil was in reality Milton's Hero. [5]

I think I have obviated this Objection in my first Paper. The Paradise
Lost is an Epic [or a] Narrative Poem, [and] he that looks for an Hero
in it, searches for that which Milton never intended; [but [6]] if he
will needs fix the Name of an Hero upon any Person in it, tis certainly
the Messiah who is the Hero, both in the Principal Action, and in the
[chief Episodes.] [7] Paganism could not furnish out a real Action for a
Fable greater than that of the Iliad or AEneid, and therefore an Heathen
could not form a higher Notion of a Poem than one of that kind, which
they call an Heroic. Whether Milton's is not of a [sublimer [8]] Nature
I will not presume to determine: It is sufficient that I shew there is
in the Paradise Lost all the Greatness of Plan, Regularity of Design,
and masterly Beauties which we discover in Homer and Virgil.

I must in the next Place observe, that Milton has interwoven in the
Texture of his Fable some Particulars which do not seem to have
Probability enough for an Epic Poem, particularly in the Actions which
he ascribes to Sin and Death, and the Picture which he draws of the
Limbo of Vanity, with other Passages in the second Book. Such Allegories
rather savour of the Spirit of Spenser and Ariosto, than of Homer and

In the Structure of his Poem he has likewise admitted of too many
Digressions. It is finely observed by Aristotle, that the Author of an
Heroic Poem should seldom speak himself, but throw as much of his Work
as he can into the Mouths of those who are his Principal Actors. [9]

Aristotle has given no reason for this Precept; but I presume it is
because the Mind of the Reader is more awed and elevated when he hears
AEneas or Achilles speak, than when Virgil or Homer talk in their own
Persons. Besides that assuming the Character of an eminent Man is apt to
fire the Imagination, and raise the Ideas of the Author. Tully tells us
[10], mentioning his Dialogue of Old Age, in which Cato is the chief
Speaker, that upon a Review of it he was agreeably imposed upon, and
fancied that it was Cato, and not he himself, who uttered his Thoughts
on that Subject.

If the Reader would be at the Pains to see how the Story of the Iliad
and the AEneid is delivered by those Persons who act in it, he will be
surprized to find how little in either of these Poems proceeds from the
Authors. Milton has, in the general disposition of his Fable, very
finely observed this great Rule; insomuch that there is scarce a third
Part of it which comes from the Poet; the rest is spoken either by Adam
and Eve, or by some Good or Evil Spirit who is engaged either in their
Destruction or Defence.

From what has been here observed it appears, that Digressions are by no
means to be allowed of in an Epic Poem. If the Poet, even in the
ordinary course of his Narration, should speak as little as possible, he
should certainly never let his Narration sleep for the sake of any
Reflections of his own. I have often observed, with a secret Admiration,
that the longest Reflection in the AEneid is in that Passage of the
Tenth Book, where Turnus is represented as dressing himself in the
Spoils of Pallas, whom he had slain. Virgil here lets his Fable stand
still for the-sake of the following Remark. How is the Mind of Man
ignorant of Futurity, and unable to bear prosperous Fortune with
Moderation? The Time will come when Turnus shall wish that he had left
the Body of Pallas untouched, and curse the Day on which he dressed
himself in these Spoils. As the great Event of the AEneid, and the Death
of Turnus, whom AEneas slew because he saw him adorned with the Spoils of
Pallas, turns upon this Incident, Virgil went out of his way to make
this Reflection upon it, without which so small a Circumstance might
possibly have slipped out of his Readers Memory. Lucan, who was an
Injudicious Poet, lets drop his Story very frequently for the sake of
his unnecessary Digressions, or his Diverticula, as Scaliger calls them.
[11] If he gives us an Account of the Prodigies which preceded the Civil
War, he declaims upon the Occasion, and shews how much happier it would
be for Man, if he did not feel his Evil Fortune before it comes to pass;
and suffer not only by its real Weight, but by the Apprehension of it.
Milton's Complaint [for [12]] his Blindness, his Panegyrick on Marriage,
his Reflections on Adam and Eves going naked, of the Angels eating, and
several other Passages in his Poem, are liable to the same Exception,
tho I must confess there is so great a Beauty in these very
Digressions, that I would not wish them out of his Poem.

I have, in a former Paper, spoken of the Characters of Milton's Paradise
Lost, and declared my Opinion, as to the Allegorical Persons who are
introduced in it.

If we look into the Sentiments, I think they are sometimes defective
under the following Heads: First, as there are several of them too much
pointed, and some that degenerate even into Punns. Of this last kind I
am afraid is that in the First Book, where speaking of the Pigmies, he
calls them,

--The small Infantry
Warrdon by Cranes--

Another Blemish [that [13]] appears in some of his Thoughts, is his
frequent Allusion to Heathen Fables, which are not certainly of a Piece
with the Divine Subject, of which he treats. I do not find fault with
these Allusions, where the Poet himself represents them as fabulous, as
he does in some Places, but where he mentions them as Truths and Matters
of Fact. The Limits of my Paper will not give me leave to be particular
in Instances of this kind; the Reader will easily remark them in his
Perusal of the Poem.

A third fault in his Sentiments, is an unnecessary Ostentation of
Learning, which likewise occurs very frequently. It is certain that both
Homer and Virgil were Masters of all the Learning of their Times, but it
shews it self in their Works after an indirect and concealed manner.
Milton seems ambitious of letting us know, by his Excursions on
Free-Will and Predestination, and his many Glances upon History,
Astronomy, Geography, and the like, as well as by the Terms and Phrases
he sometimes makes use of, that he was acquainted with the whole Circle
of Arts and Sciences.

If, in the last place, we consider the Language of this great Poet, we
must allow what I have hinted in a former Paper, that it is often too
much laboured, and sometimes obscured by old Words, Transpositions, and
Foreign Idioms. Senecas Objection to the Style of a great Author, Riget
ejus oratio, nihil in ea placidum nihil lene, is what many Criticks make
to Milton: As I cannot wholly refuse it, so I have already apologized
for it in another Paper; to which I may further add, that Milton's
Sentiments and Ideas were so wonderfully Sublime, that it would have
been impossible for him to have represented them in their full Strength
and Beauty, without having recourse to these Foreign Assistances. Our
Language sunk under him, and was unequal to that Greatness of Soul,
which furnished him with such glorious Conceptions.

A second Fault in his Language is, that he often affects a kind of
Jingle in his Words, as in the following Passages, and many others:

And brought into the World a World of Woe.

--Begirt th' Almighty throne
Beseeching or besieging--

This tempted our attempt--

At one slight bound high overleapt all bound.

I know there are Figures for this kind of Speech, that some of the
greatest Ancients have been guilty of it, and that Aristotle himself has
given it a place in his Rhetorick among the Beauties of that Art. [14]
But as it is in its self poor and trifling, it is I think at present
universally exploded by all the Masters of Polite Writing.

The last Fault which I shall take notice of in Milton's Style, is the
frequent use of what the Learned call Technical Words, or Terms of Art.
It is one of the great Beauties of Poetry, to make hard things
intelligible, and to deliver what is abstruse [of [15]] it self in such
easy Language as may be understood by ordinary Readers: Besides, that
the Knowledge of a Poet should rather seem born with him, or inspired,
than drawn from Books and Systems. I have often wondered how Mr. Dryden
could translate a Passage out of Virgil after the following manner.

Tack to the Larboard, and stand off to Sea.
Veer Star-board Sea and Land.

Milton makes use of Larboard in the same manner. When he is upon
Building he mentions Doric Pillars, Pilasters, Cornice, Freeze,
Architrave. When he talks of Heavenly Bodies, you meet with Eccliptic
and Eccentric, the trepidation, Stars dropping from the Zenith, Rays
culminating from the Equator. To which might be added many Instances of
the like kind in several other Arts and Sciences.

I shall in my next [Papers [16]] give an Account of the many particular
Beauties in Milton, which would have been too long to insert under those
general Heads I have already treated of, and with which I intend to
conclude this Piece of Criticism.


[Footnote 1: Poetics, cap. x. Addison got his affected word implex by
reading Aristotle through the translation and notes of Andre Dacier.
Implex was the word used by the French, but the natural English
translation of Aristotle's [Greek: haploi] and [Greek: peplegmenoi] is
into simple and complicated.]

[Footnote 2: [Stories of Achilles, Ulysses, and AEneas.]]

[Footnote 3: Poetics, cap. xi.]

[Footnote 4: that]

[Footnote 5: Dediction of the AEneid; where, after speaking of small
claimants of the honours of the Epic, he says,

Spencer has a better for his "Fairy Queen" had his action been
finished, or been one; and Milton if the Devil had not been his hero,
instead of Adam; if the giant had not foiled the knight, and driven
him out of his stronghold, to wander through the world with his
lady-errant; and if there had not been more machining persons that
human in his poem.]

[Footnote 6: [or]]

[Footnote 7: [Episode]]

[Footnote 8: [greater]]

[Footnote 9: Poetics, cap. xxv. The reason he gives is that when the
Poet speaks in his own person he is not then the Imitator. Other Poets
than Homer, Aristotle adds,

ambitious to figure throughout themselves, imitate but little and
seldom. Homer, after a few preparatory lines, immediately introduces a
man or woman or some other character, for all have their character.

Of Lucan, as an example of the contrary practice, Hobbes said in his
Discourse concerning the Virtues of an Heroic Poem:

No Heroic Poem raises such admiration of the Poet, as his hath done,
though not so great admiration of the persons he introduceth.]

[Footnote 10: Letters to Atticus, Bk. xiii., Ep. 44.]

[Footnote 11: Poetices, Lib. iii. cap. 25.]

[Footnote 12: [of]]

[Footnote 13: [which]]

[Footnote 14: Rhetoric, iii. ch. II, where he cites such verbal jokes
as, You wish him [Greek: persai] (i.e. to side with Persia--to ruin
him), and the saying of Isocrates concerning Athens, that its
sovereignty [Greek: archae] was to the city a beginning [Greek: archae]
of evils. As this closes Addison's comparison of Milton's practice with
Aristotle's doctrine (the following papers being expressions of his
personal appreciation of the several books of Paradise Lost), we may
note here that Milton would have been quite ready to have his work tried
by the test Addison has been applying. In his letter to Samuel Hartlib,
sketching his ideal of a good Education, he assigns to advanced pupils
logic and then

rhetoric taught out of the rules of Plato, Aristotle, Phalereus,
Cicero, Hermogenes, Longinus. To which poetry would be made
subsequent, or, indeed, rather precedent, as being less subtile and
fine, but more simple, sensuous, and passionate. I mean not here the
prosody of a verse, which they could not but have hit on before among
the rudiments of grammar; but that sublime art which in Aristotle's
Poetics, in Horace, and the Italian commentaries of Castelvetro,
Tasso, Mazzoni, and others, teaches what the laws are of a true epic
poem, what of a dramatic, what of a lyric, what decorum is, which is
the grand masterpiece to observe. This would make them soon perceive
what despicable creatures our common rhymers and play-writers be; and
show them what religious, what glorious and magnificent use might be
made of poetry, both in divine and human things.]

[Footnote 15: [in]]

[Footnote 16: [Saturdays Paper]]

* * * * *

No. 298. Monday, February 11, 1712. Steele.

Nusquam Tuta fides.


London, Feb. 9, 1711-12.


I am a Virgin, and in no Case despicable; but yet such as I am I must
remain, or else become, tis to be feared, less happy: for I find not
the least good Effect from the just Correction you some time since
gave, that too free, that looser Part of our Sex which spoils the Men;
the same Connivance at the Vices, the same easie Admittance of
Addresses, the same vitiated Relish of the Conversation of the
greatest of Rakes (or in a more fashionable Way of expressing ones
self, of such as have seen the World most) still abounds, increases,

The humble Petition therefore of many of the most strictly virtuous,
and of my self, is, That you'll once more exert your Authority, and
that according to your late Promise, your full, your impartial
Authority, on this sillier Branch of our Kind: For why should they be
the uncontroulable Mistresses of our Fate? Why should they with
Impunity indulge the Males in Licentiousness whilst single, and we
have the dismal Hazard and Plague of reforming them when married?
Strike home, Sir, then, and spare not, or all our maiden Hopes, our
gilded Hopes of nuptial Felicity are frustrated, are vanished, and you
your self, as well as Mr. Courtly, will, by smoothing over immodest
Practices with the Gloss of soft and harmless Names, for ever forfeit
our Esteem. Nor think that I'm herein more severe than need be: If I
have not reason more than enough, do you and the World judge from this
ensuing Account, which, I think, will prove the Evil to be universal.

You must know then, that since your Reprehension of this Female
Degeneracy came out, I've had a Tender of Respects from no less than
five Persons, of tolerable Figure too as Times go: But the Misfortune
is, that four of the five are professed Followers of the Mode. They
would face me down, that all Women of good Sense ever were, and ever
will be, Latitudinarians in Wedlock; and always did, and will, give
and take what they profanely term Conjugal Liberty of Conscience.

The two first of them, a Captain and a Merchant, to strengthen their
Argument, pretend to repeat after a Couple, a Brace of Ladies of
Quality and Wit, That Venus was always kind to Mars; and what Soul
that has the least spark of Generosity, can deny a Man of Bravery any
thing? And how pitiful a Trader that, whom no Woman but his own Wife
will have Correspondence and Dealings with? Thus these; whilst the
third, the Country Squire, confessed, That indeed he was surprized
into good Breeding, and entered into the Knowledge of the World
unawares. That dining tother Day at a Gentleman's House, the Person
who entertained was obliged to leave him with his Wife and Nieces;
where they spoke with so much Contempt of an absent Gentleman for
being slow at a Hint, that he had resolved never to be drowsy,
unmannerly, or stupid for the future at a Friends House; and on a
hunting Morning, not to pursue the Game either with the Husband
abroad, or with the Wife at home.

The next that came was a Tradesman, [no [1]] less full of the Age
than the former; for he had the Gallantry to tell me, that at a late
Junket which he was invited to, the Motion being made, and the
Question being put, twas by Maid, Wife and Widow resolved nemine
contradicente, That a young sprightly Journeyman is absolutely
necessary in their Way of Business: To which they had the Assent and
Concurrence of the Husbands present. I dropped him a Curtsy, and gave
him to understand that was his Audience of Leave.

I am reckoned pretty, and have had very many Advances besides these;
but have been very averse to hear any of them, from my Observation on
these above-mentioned, till I hoped some Good from the Character of
my present Admirer, a Clergyman. But I find even amongst them there
are indirect Practices in relation to Love, and our Treaty is at
present a little in Suspence, till some Circumstances are cleared.
There is a Charge against him among the Women, and the Case is this:
It is alledged, That a certain endowed Female would have appropriated
her self to and consolidated her self with a Church, which my Divine
now enjoys; (or, which is the same thing, did prostitute her self to
her Friends doing this for her): That my Ecclesiastick, to obtain the
one, did engage himself to take off the other that lay on Hand; but
that on his Success in the Spiritual, he again renounced the Carnal.

I put this closely to him, and taxed him with Disingenuity. He to
clear himself made the subsequent Defence, and that in the most solemn
Manner possible: That he was applied to and instigated to accept of a
Benefice: That a conditional Offer thereof was indeed made him at
first, but with Disdain by him rejected: That when nothing (as they
easily perceived) of this Nature could bring him to their Purpose,
Assurance of his being entirely unengaged before-hand, and safe from
all their After-Expectations (the only Stratagem left to draw him in)
was given him: That pursuant to this the Donation it self was without
Delay, before several reputable Witnesses, tendered to him gratis,
with the open Profession of not the least Reserve, or most minute
Condition; but that yet immediately after Induction, his insidious
Introducer (or her crafty Procurer, which you will) industriously
spread the Report, which had reached my Ears, not only in the
Neighbourhood of that said Church, but in London, in the University,
in mine and his own County, and where-ever else it might probably
obviate his Application to any other Woman, and so confine him to this
alone: And, in a Word, That as he never did make any previous Offer of
his Service, or the least Step to her Affection; so on his Discovery
of these Designs thus laid to trick him, he could not but afterwards,
in Justice to himself, vindicate both his Innocence and Freedom by
keeping his proper Distance.

This is his Apology, and I think I shall be satisfied with it. But I
cannot conclude my tedious Epistle, without recommending to you not
only to resume your former Chastisement, but to add to your Criminals
the Simoniacal Ladies, who seduce the sacred Order into the Difficulty
of either breaking a mercenary Troth made to them whom they ought not
to deceive, or by breaking or keeping it offending against him whom
they cannot deceive. Your Assistance and Labours of this sort would be
of great Benefit, and your speedy Thoughts on this Subject would be
very seasonable to,

SIR, Your most obedient Servant,
Chastity Loveworth.


[Footnote 1: [nor]]

* * * * *

No. 299. Tuesday, February 12, 1712. Addison.

Malo Venusinam, quam te, Cornelia, Mater
Gracchorum, si cum magnis virtutibus affers
Grande supercilium, et numeras in dote triumphos.
Tolle tuum precor Annibalem victumque Syphacem
In castris, et cum tota Carthagine migra.


It is observed, that a Man improves more by reading the Story of a
Person eminent for Prudence and Virtue, than by the finest Rules and
Precepts of Morality. In the same manner a Representation of those
Calamities and Misfortunes which a weak Man suffers from wrong Measures,
and ill-concerted Schemes of Life, is apt to make a deeper Impression
upon our Minds, than the wisest Maxims and Instructions that can be
given us, for avoiding the like Follies and Indiscretions on our own
private Conduct. It is for this Reason that I lay before my Reader the
following Letter, and leave it with him to make his own use of it,
without adding any Reflections of my own upon the Subject Matter.


Having carefully perused a Letter sent you by Josiah Fribble, Esq.,
with your subsequent Discourse upon Pin-Money, I do presume to trouble
you with an Account of my own Case, which I look upon to be no less
deplorable than that of Squire Fribble. I am a Person of no
Extraction, having begun the World with a small parcel of Rusty Iron,
and was for some Years commonly known by the Name of Jack Anvil. [1] I
have naturally a very happy Genius for getting Money, insomuch that by
the Age of Five and twenty I had scraped together Four thousand two
hundred Pounds Five Shillings, and a few odd Pence. I then launched
out into considerable Business, and became a bold Trader both by Sea
and Land, which in a few Years raised me a very [great [2]] Fortune.
For these my Good Services I was Knighted in the thirty fifth Year of
my Age, and lived with great Dignity among my City-Neighbours by the
Name of Sir John Anvil. Being in my Temper very Ambitious, I was now
bent upon making a Family, and accordingly resolved that my
Descendants should have a Dash of Good Blood in their Veins. In order
to this, I made Love to the Lady Mary Oddly, an Indigent young Woman
of Quality. To cut short the Marriage Treaty, I threw her a Charte
Blanche, as our News Papers call it, desiring her to write upon it her
own Terms. She was very concise in her Demands, insisting only that
the Disposal of my Fortune, and the Regulation of my Family, should be
entirely in her Hands. Her Father and Brothers appeared exceedingly
averse to this Match, and would not see me for some time; but at
present are so well reconciled, that they Dine with me almost every
Day, and have borrowed considerable Sums of me; which my Lady Mary
very often twits me with, when she would shew me how kind her
Relations are to me. She had no Portion, as I told you before, but
what she wanted in Fortune, she makes up in Spirit. She at first
changed my Name to Sir John Envil, and at present writes her self Mary
Enville. I have had some Children by her, whom she has Christened with
the Sirnames of her Family, in order, as she tells me, to wear out the
Homeliness of their Parentage by the Fathers Side. Our eldest Son is
the Honourable Oddly Enville, Esq., and our eldest Daughter Harriot
Enville. Upon her first coming into my Family, she turned off a parcel
of very careful Servants, who had been long with me, and introduced in
their stead a couple of Black-a-moors, and three or four very genteel
Fellows in Laced Liveries, besides her French woman, who is
perpetually making a Noise in the House in a Language which no body
understands, except my Lady Mary. She next set her self to reform
every Room of my House, having glazed all my Chimney-pieces with
Looking-glass, and planted every Corner with such heaps of China, that
I am obliged to move about my own House with the greatest Caution and
Circumspection, for fear of hurting some of our Brittle Furniture. She
makes an Illumination once a Week with Wax-Candles in one of the
largest Rooms, in order, as she phrases it, to see Company. At which
time she always desires me to be Abroad, or to confine my self to the
Cock-loft, that I may not disgrace her among her Visitants of Quality.
Her Footmen, as I told you before, are such Beaus that I do not much
care for asking them Questions; when I do, they answer me with a sawcy
Frown, and say that every thing, which I find Fault with, was done by
my Lady Marys Order. She tells me that she intends they shall wear
Swords with their next Liveries, having lately observed the Footmen of
two or three Persons of Quality hanging behind the Coach with Swords
by their Sides. As soon as the first Honey-Moon was over, I
represented to her the Unreasonableness of those daily Innovations
which she made in my Family, but she told me I was no longer to
consider my self as Sir John Anvil, but as her Husband; and added,
with a Frown, that I did not seem to know who she was. I was surprized
to be treated thus, after such Familiarities as had passed between us.
But she has since given me to know, that whatever Freedoms she may
sometimes indulge me in, she expects in general to be treated with the
Respect that is due to her Birth and Quality. Our Children have been
trained up from their Infancy with so many Accounts of their Mothers
Family, that they know the Stories of all the great Men and Women it
has produced. Their Mother tells them, that such an one commanded in
such a Sea Engagement, that their Great Grandfather had a Horse shot
under him at Edge-hill, that their Uncle was at the Siege of Buda, and
that her Mother danced in a Ball at Court with the Duke of Monmouth;
with abundance of Fiddle-faddle of the same Nature. I was, the other
Day, a little out of Countenance at a Question of my little Daughter
Harriot, who asked me, with a great deal of Innocence, why I never
told them of the Generals and Admirals that had been in my Family. As
for my Eldest Son Oddly, he has been so spirited up by his Mother,
that if he does not mend his Manners I shall go near to disinherit
him. He drew his Sword upon me before he was nine years old, and told
me, that he expected to be used like a Gentleman; upon my offering to
correct him for his Insolence, my Lady Mary stept in between us, and
told me, that I ought to consider there was some Difference between
his Mother and mine. She is perpetually finding out the Features of
her own Relations in every one of my Children, tho, by the way, I
have a little Chubfaced Boy as like me as he can stare, if I durst say
so; but what most angers me, when she sees me playing with any of them
upon my Knee, she has begged me more than once to converse with the
Children as little as possibly, that they may not learn any of my
awkward Tricks.

You must farther know, since I am opening my Heart to you, that she
thinks her self my Superior in Sense, as much as she is in Quality,
and therefore treats me like a plain well-meaning Man, who does not
know the World. She dictates to me in my own Business, sets me right
in Point of Trade, and if I disagree with her about any of my Ships at
Sea, wonders that I will dispute with her, when I know very well that
her Great Grandfather was a Flag Officer.

To compleat my Sufferings, she has teazed me for this Quarter of [a
[3]] Year last past, to remove into one of the Squares at the other
End of the Town, promising for my Encouragement, that I shall have as
good a Cock-loft as any Gentleman in the Square; to which the
Honourable Oddly Enville, Esq., always adds, like a Jack-a-napes as he
is, that he hopes twill be as near the Court as possible.

In short, Mr. SPECTATOR, I am so much out of my natural Element, that
to recover my old Way of Life I would be content to begin the World
again, and be plain Jack Anvil; but alas! I am in for Life, and am
bound to subscribe my self, with great Sorrow of Heart,

Your humble Servant,

John Enville, Knt.


[Footnote 1: This has been said to refer to a Sir Ambrose Crowley, who
changed his name to Crawley.]

[Footnote 2: [considerable] corrected by an erratum in No. 301.]

[Footnote 3: [an]]

* * * * *

No. 300. Wednesday, February 13, 1712. Steele.

Diversum vitio vitium prope majus.



When you talk of the Subject of Love, and the Relations arising from
it, methinks you should take Care to leave no Fault unobserved which
concerns the State of Marriage. The great Vexation that I have
observed in it, is, that the wedded Couple seem to want Opportunities
of being often enough alone together, and are forced to quarrel and be
fond before Company. Mr. Hotspur and his Lady, in a Room full of their
Friends, are ever saying something so smart to each other, and that
but just within Rules, that the whole Company stand in the utmost
Anxiety and Suspence for fear of their falling into Extremities which
they could not be present at. On the other Side, Tom Faddle and his
pretty Spouse where-ever they come are billing at such a Rate, as they
think must do our Hearts good who behold em. Cannot you possibly
propose a Mean between being Wasps and Doves in Publick? I should
think if you advised to hate or love sincerely it would be better: For
if they would be so discreet as to hate from the very Bottom of their
Hearts, their Aversion would be too strong for little Gibes every
Moment; and if they loved with that calm and noble Value which dwells
in the Heart, with a Warmth like that of Life-Blood, they would not be
so impatient of their Passion as to fall into observable Fondness.
This Method, in each Case, would save Appearances; but as those who
offend on the fond Side are by much the fewer, I would have you begin
with them, and go on to take Notice of a most impertinent Licence
married Women take, not only to be very loving to their Spouses in
Publick, but also make nauseous Allusions to private Familiarities,
and the like. Lucina is a Lady of the greatest Discretion, you must
know, in the World; and withal very much a Physician: Upon the
Strength of these two Qualities there is nothing she will not speak of
before us Virgins; and she every Day talks with a very grave Air in
such a Manner, as is very improper so much as to be hinted at but to
obviate the greatest Extremity. Those whom they call good Bodies,
notable People, hearty Neighbours, and the purest goodest Company in
the World, are the great Offenders in this Kind. Here I think I have
laid before you an open Field for Pleasantry; and hope you will shew
these People that at least they are not witty: In which you will save
from many a Blush a daily Sufferer, who is very much

Your most humble Servant,
Susanna Loveworth.


In yours of Wednesday the 30th past, you and your Correspondent are
very severe on a sort of Men, whom you call Male Coquets; but without
any other Reason, in my Apprehension, than that of paying a shallow
Compliment to the fair Sex, by accusing some Men of imaginary Faults,
that the Women may not seem to be the more faulty Sex; though at the
same time you suppose there are some so weak as to be imposed upon by
fine Things and false Addresses. I cant persuade my self that your
Design is to debar the Sexes the Benefit of each others Conversation
within the Rules of Honour; nor will you, I dare say, recommend to
em, or encourage the common Tea-Table Talk, much less that of
Politicks and Matters of State: And if these are forbidden Subjects of
Discourse, then, as long as there are any Women in the World who take
a Pleasure in hearing themselves praised, and can bear the Sight of a
Man prostrate at their Feet, so long I shall make no Wonder that there
are those of the other Sex who will pay them those impertinent
Humiliations. We should have few People such Fools as to practise
Flattery, if all were so wise as to despise it. I don't deny but you
would do a meritorious Act, if you could prevent all Impositions on
the Simplicity of young Women; but I must confess I don't apprehend
you have laid the Fault on the proper Person, and if I trouble you
with my Thoughts upon it I promise my self your Pardon. Such of the
Sex as are raw and innocent, and most exposed to these Attacks, have,
or their Parents are much to blame if they have not, one to advise and
guard em, and are obliged themselves to take Care of em: but if
these, who ought to hinder Men from all Opportunities of this sort of
Conversation, instead of that encourage and promote it, the Suspicion
is very just that there are some private Reasons for it; and Ill
leave it to you to determine on which Side a Part is then acted. Some
Women there are who are arrived at Years of Discretion, I mean are got
out of the Hands of their Parents and Governours, and are set up for
themselves, who yet are liable to these Attempts; but if these are
prevailed upon, you must excuse me if I lay the Fault upon them, that
their Wisdom is not grown with their Years. My Client, Mr. Strephon,
whom you summoned to declare himself, gives you Thanks however for
your Warning, and begs the Favour only to inlarge his Time for a Week,
or to the last Day of the Term, and then hell appear gratis, and pray
no Day over.


I was last Night to visit a Lady who I much esteem, and always took
for my Friend; but met with so very different a Reception from what I
expected, that I cannot help applying my self to you on this Occasion.
In the room of that Civility and Familiarity I used to be treated with
by her, an affected Strangeness in her Looks, and Coldness in her
Behaviour, plainly told me I was not the welcome Guest which the
Regard and Tenderness she has often expressed for me gave me Reason to
flatter my self to think I was. Sir, this is certainly a great Fault,
and I assure you a very common one; therefore I hope you will think it
a fit Subject for some Part of a Spectator. Be pleased to acquaint us
how we must behave our selves towards this valetudinary Friendship,
subject to so many Heats and Colds, and you will oblige,
SIR, Your humble Servant,


I cannot forbear acknowledging the Delight your late Spectators on
Saturdays have given me; for it is writ in the honest Spirit of
Criticism, and called to my Mind the following four Lines I had read
long since in a Prologue to a Play called Julius Caesar [1] which has
deserved a better Fate. The Verses are addressed to the little

Shew your small Talent, and let that suffice ye;
But grow not vain upon it, I advise ye.
For every Fop can find out Faults in Plays:
You'll ne'er arrive at Knowing when to praise.

Yours, D. G.


[Footnote 1: By William Alexander, Earl of Stirling (who died in 1640);
one of his four Monarchicke Tragedies. He received a grant of Nova
Scotia to colonize, and was secretary of state for Scotland.]

* * * * *

No. 301. Thursday, February 14, 1712. Budgell.

Possint ut Juvenes visere fervidi
Multo non sine risu,
Dilapsam in cineres facem.


We are generally so much pleased with any little Accomplishments, either
of Body or Mind, which have once made us remarkable in the World, that
we endeavour to perswade our selves it is not in the Power of Time to
rob us of them. We are eternally pursuing the same Methods which first
procured us the Applauses of Mankind. It is from this Notion that an
Author writes on, tho he is come to Dotage; without ever considering
that his Memory is impaired, and that he has lost that Life, and those
Spirits, which formerly raised his Fancy, and fired his Imagination. The
same Folly hinders a Man from submitting his Behaviour to his Age, and
makes Clodius, who was a celebrated Dancer at five and twenty, still
love to hobble in a Minuet, tho he is past Threescore. It is this, in a
Word, which fills the Town with elderly Fops, and superannuated Coquets.

Canidia, a Lady of this latter Species, passed by me Yesterday in her
Coach. Canidia was an haughty Beauty of the last Age, and was followed
by Crowds of Adorers, whose Passions only pleased her, as they gave her
Opportunities of playing the Tyrant. She then contracted that awful Cast
of the Eye and forbidding Frown, which she has not yet laid aside, and
has still all the Insolence of Beauty without its Charms. If she now
attracts the Eyes of any Beholders, it is only by being remarkably
ridiculous; even her own Sex laugh at her Affectation; and the Men, who
always enjoy an ill-natured Pleasure in seeing an imperious Beauty
humbled and neglected, regard her with the same Satisfaction that a free
Nation sees a Tyrant in Disgrace.

WILL. HONEYCOMB, who is a great Admirer of the Gallantries in King
Charles the Seconds Reign, lately communicated to me a Letter written
by a Wit of that Age to his Mistress, who it seems was a Lady of
Canidia's Humour; and tho I do not always approve of my Friend WILLS
Taste, I liked this Letter so well, that I took a Copy of it, with which
I shall here present my Reader.


Since my waking Thoughts have never been able to influence you in my
Favour, I am resolved to try whether my Dreams can make any Impression
on you. To this end I shall give you an Account of a very odd one
which my Fancy presented to me last Night, within a few Hours after I
left you.

Methought I was unaccountably conveyed into the most delicious Place
mine Eyes ever beheld, it was a large Valley divided by a River of the
purest Water I had ever seen. The Ground on each Side of it rose by an
easie Ascent, and was covered with Flowers of an infinite Variety,
which as they were reflected in the Water doubled the Beauties of the
Place, or rather formed an Imaginary Scene more beautiful than the
real. On each Side of the River was a Range of lofty Trees, whose
Boughs were loaden with almost as many Birds as Leaves. Every Tree was
full of Harmony.

I had not gone far in this pleasant Valley, when I perceived that it
was terminated by a most magnificent Temple. The Structure was
ancient, and regular. On the Top of it was figured the God Saturn, in
the same Shape and Dress that the Poets usually represent Time.

As I was advancing to satisfie my Curiosity by a nearer View, I was
stopped by an Object far more beautiful than any I had before
discovered in the whole Place. I fancy, Madam, you will easily guess
that this could hardly be any thing but your self; in reality it was
so; you lay extended on the Flowers by the side of the River, so that
your Hands which were thrown in a negligent Posture, almost touched
the Water. Your Eyes were closed; but if your Sleep deprived me of the
Satisfaction of seeing them, it left me at leisure to contemplate
several other Charms, which disappear when your Eyes are open. I could
not but admire the Tranquility you slept in, especially when I
considered the Uneasiness you produce in so many others.

While I was wholly taken up in these Reflections, the Doors of the
Temple flew open, with a very great Noise; and lifting up my Eyes, I
saw two Figures, in human Shape, coming into the Valley. Upon a nearer
Survey, I found them to be YOUTH and LOVE. The first was encircled
with a kind of Purple Light, that spread a Glory over all the Place;
the other held a flaming Torch in his Hand. I could observe, that all
the way as they came towards us, the Colours of the Flowers appeared
more lively, the Trees shot out in Blossoms, the Birds threw
themselves into Pairs, and Serenaded them as they passed: The whole
Face of Nature glowed with new Beauties. They were no sooner arrived
at the Place where you lay, when they seated themselves on each Side
of you. On their Approach, methought I saw a new Bloom arise in your
Face, and new Charms diffuse themselves over your whole Person. You
appeared more than Mortal; but, to my great Surprise, continued fast
asleep, tho the two Deities made several gentle Efforts to awaken

After a short Time, YOUTH (displaying a Pair of Wings, which I had
not before taken notice of) flew off. LOVE still remained, and holding
the Torch which he had in his Hand before your Face, you still
appeared as beautiful as ever. The glaring of the Light in your Eyes
at length awakened you; when, to my great Surprise, instead of
acknowledging the Favour of the Deity, you frowned upon him, and
struck the Torch out of his Hand into the River. The God after having
regarded you with a Look that spoke at [once [1]] his Pity and
Displeasure, flew away. Immediately a kind of Gloom overspread the
whole Place. At the same time I saw an hideous Spectre enter at one
end of the Valley. His Eyes were sunk into his Head, his Face was pale
and withered, and his Skin puckered up in Wrinkles. As he walked on
the sides of the Bank the River froze, the Flowers faded, the Trees
shed their Blossoms, the Birds dropped from off the Boughs, and fell
dead at his Feet. By these Marks I knew him to be OLD-AGE. You were
seized with the utmost Horror and Amazement at his Approach. You
endeavoured to have fled, but the Phantome caught you in his Arms. You
may easily guess at the Change you suffered in this Embrace. For my
own Part, though I am still too full of the [frightful [2]] Idea, I
will not shock you with a Description of it. I was so startled at the
Sight that my Sleep immediately left me, and I found my self awake, at
leisure to consider of a Dream which seems too extraordinary to be
without a Meaning. I am, Madam, with the greatest Passion,
Your most Obedient,
most Humble Servant, &c.


[Footnote 1: [the same time]]

[Footnote 2: [dreadful]]

* * * * *

No. 302. Friday, February 15, 1712. Steele.

Lachrymaeque decorae,
Gratior et pulchro veniens in corpore Virtus.

Vir. AEn. 5.

I read what I give for the Entertainment of this Day with a great deal
of Pleasure, and publish it just as it came to my Hands. I shall be very
glad to find there are many guessed at for Emilia.


If this Paper has the good Fortune to be honoured with a Place in your
Writings, I shall be the more pleased, because the Character of Emilia
is not an imaginary but a real one. I have industriously obscured the
whole by the Addition of one or two Circumstances of no Consequence,
that the Person it is drawn from might still be concealed; and that
the Writer of it might not be in the least suspected, and for [other
[2]] Reasons, I chuse not to give it the Form of a Letter: But if,
besides the Faults of the Composition, there be any thing in it more
proper for a Correspondent than the SPECTATOR himself to write, I
submit it to your better Judgment, to receive any other Model you
think fit.
I am, SIR,
Your very humble Servant.

There is nothing which gives one so pleasing a Prospect of human
Nature, as the Contemplation of Wisdom and Beauty: The latter is the
peculiar Portion of that Sex which is therefore called Fair; but the
happy Concurrence of both these Excellencies in the same Person, is
a Character too celestial to be frequently met with. Beauty is an
over-weaning self-sufficient thing, careless of providing it self
any more substantial Ornaments; nay so little does it consult its
own Interests, that it too often defeats it self by betraying that
Innocence which renders it lovely and desirable. As therefore Virtue
makes a beautiful Woman appear more beautiful, so Beauty makes a
virtuous Woman really more virtuous. Whilst I am considering these
two Perfections gloriously united in one Person, I cannot help
representing to my Mind the Image of Emilia.

Who ever beheld the charming Emilia, without feeling in his Breast
at once the Glow of Love and the Tenderness of virtuous Friendship?
The unstudied Graces of her Behaviour, and the pleasing Accents of
her Tongue, insensibly draw you on to wish for a nearer Enjoyment of
them; but even her Smiles carry in them a silent Reproof to the
Impulses of licentious Love. Thus, tho the Attractives of her
Beauty play almost irresistibly upon you and create Desire, you
immediately stand corrected not by the Severity but the Decency of
her Virtue. That Sweetness and Good-humour which is so visible in
her Face, naturally diffuses it self into every Word and Action: A
Man must be a Savage, who at the Sight of Emilia, is not more
inclined to do her Good than gratifie himself. Her Person, as it is
thus studiously embellished by Nature, thus adorned with
unpremeditated Graces, is a fit Lodging for a Mind so fair and
lovely; there dwell rational Piety, modest Hope, and chearful

Many of the prevailing Passions of Mankind do undeservedly pass
under the Name of Religion; which is thus made to express itself in
Action, according to the Nature of the Constitution in which it
resides: So that were we to make a Judgment from Appearances, one
would imagine Religion in some is little better than Sullenness and
Reserve, in many Fear, in others the Despondings of a melancholly
Complexion, in others the Formality of insignificant unaffecting
Observances, in others Severity, in others Ostentation. In Emilia it
is a Principle founded in Reason and enlivened with Hope; it does
not break forth into irregular Fits and Sallies of Devotion, but is
an uniform and consistent Tenour of Action; It is strict without
Severity, compassionate without Weakness; it is the Perfection of
that good Humour which proceeds from the Understanding, not the
Effect of an easy Constitution.

By a generous Sympathy in Nature, we feel our selves disposed to
mourn when any of our Fellow-Creatures are afflicted; but injured
Innocence and Beauty in Distresses an Object that carries in it
something inexpressibly moving: It softens the most manly Heart with
the tenderest Sensations of Love and Compassion, till at length it
confesses its Humanity, and flows out into Tears.

Were I to relate that part of Emilia's Life which has given her an
Opportunity of exerting the Heroism of Christianity, it would make
too sad, too tender a Story: But when I consider her alone in the
midst of her Distresses, looking beyond this gloomy Vale of
Affliction and Sorrow into the Joys of Heaven and Immortality, and
when I see her in Conversation thoughtless and easie as if she were
the most happy Creature in the World, I am transported with
Admiration. Surely never did such a Philosophic Soul inhabit such a
beauteous Form! For Beauty is often made a Privilege against Thought
and Reflection; it laughs at Wisdom, and will not abide the Gravity
of its Instructions.

Were I able to represent Emilia's Virtues in their proper Colours
and their due Proportions, Love or Flattery might perhaps be thought
to have drawn the Picture larger than Life; but as this is but an
imperfect Draught of so excellent a Character, and as I cannot, will
not hope to have any Interest in her Person, all that I can say of
her is but impartial Praise extorted from me by the prevailing
Brightness of her Virtues. So rare a Pattern of Female Excellence
ought not to be concealed, but should be set out to the View and
Imitation of the World; for how amiable does Virtue appear thus as
it were made visible to us in so fair an Example!

Honoria's Disposition is of a very different Turn: Her Thoughts are
wholly bent upon Conquest and arbitrary Power. That she has some Wit
and Beauty no Body denies, and therefore has the Esteem of all her
Acquaintance as a Woman of an agreeable Person and Conversation; but
(whatever her Husband may think of it) that is not sufficient for
Honoria: She waves that Title to Respect as a mean Acquisition, and
demands Veneration in the Right of an Idol; for this Reason her
natural Desire of Life is continually checked with an inconsistent
Fear of Wrinkles and old Age.

Emilia cannot be supposed ignorant of her personal Charms, tho she
seems to be so; but she will not hold her Happiness upon so
precarious a Tenure, whilst her Mind is adorned with Beauties of a
more exalted and lasting Nature. When in the full Bloom of Youth and
Beauty we saw her surrounded with a Crowd of Adorers, she took no
Pleasure in Slaughter and Destruction, gave no false deluding Hopes
which might encrease the Torments of her disappointed Lovers; but
having for some Time given to the Decency of a Virgin Coyness, and
examined the Merit of their several Pretensions, she at length
gratified her own, by resigning herself to the ardent Passion of
Bromius. Bromius was then Master of many good Qualities and a
moderate Fortune, which was soon after unexpectedly encreased to a
plentiful Estate. This for a good while proved his Misfortune, as it
furnished his unexperienced Age with the Opportunities of Evil
Company and a sensual Life. He might have longer wandered in the
Labyrinths of Vice and Folly, had not Emilia's prudent Conduct won
him over to the Government of his Reason. Her Ingenuity has been
constantly employed in humanizing his Passions and refining his
Pleasures. She shewed him by her own Example, that Virtue is
consistent with decent Freedoms and good Humour, or rather, that it
cannot subsist without em. Her good Sense readily instructed her,
that a silent Example and an easie unrepining Behaviour, will always
be more perswasive than the Severity of Lectures and Admonitions;
and that there is so much Pride interwoven into the Make of human
Nature, that an obstinate Man must only take the Hint from another,
and then be left to advise and correct himself. Thus by an artful
Train of Management and unseen Perswasions, having at first brought
him not to dislike, and at length to be pleased with that which
otherwise he would not have bore to hear of, she then knew how to
press and secure this Advantage, by approving it as his Thoughts,
and seconding it as his Proposal. By this Means she has gained an
Interest in some of his leading Passions, and made them accessary to
his Reformation.

There is another Particular of Emilia's Conduct which I cant
forbear mentioning: To some perhaps it may at first Sight appear but
a trifling inconsiderable Circumstance but for my Part, I think it
highly worthy of Observation, and to be recommended to the
Consideration of the fair Sex. I have often thought wrapping Gowns
and dirty Linnen, with all that huddled Oeconomy of Dress which
passes under the general Name of a Mob, the Bane of conjugal Love,
and one of the readiest Means imaginable to alienate the Affection
of an Husband, especially a fond one. I have heard some Ladies, who
have been surprized by Company in such a Deshabille, apologize for
it after this Manner; Truly I am ashamed to be caught in this
Pickle; but my Husband and I were sitting all alone by our selves,
and I did not expect to see such good Company--This by the way is a
fine Compliment to the good Man, which tis ten to one but he
returns in dogged Answers and a churlish Behaviour, without knowing
what it is that puts him out of Humour.

Emilia's Observation teaches her, that as little Inadvertencies and
Neglects cast a Blemish upon a great Character; so the Neglect of
Apparel, even among the most intimate Friends, does insensibly
lessen their Regards to each other, by creating a Familiarity too
low and contemptible. She understands the Importance of those Things
which the Generality account Trifles; and considers every thing as a
Matter of Consequence, that has the least Tendency towards keeping
up or abating the Affection of her Husband; him she esteems as a fit
Object to employ her Ingenuity in pleasing, because he is to be
pleased for Life.

By the Help of these, and a thousand other nameless Arts, which tis
easier for her to practise than for another to express, by the
Obstinacy of her Goodness and unprovoked Submission, in spight of
all her Afflictions and ill Usage, Bromius is become a Man of Sense
and a kind Husband, and Emilia a happy Wife.

Ye guardian Angels to whose Care Heaven has entrusted its dear
Emilia, guide her still forward in the Paths of Virtue, defend her
from the Insolence and Wrongs of this undiscerning World; at length
when we must no more converse with such Purity on Earth, lead her
gently hence innocent and unreprovable to a better Place, where by
an easie Transition from what she now is, she may shine forth an
Angel of Light.


[Footnote 1: The character of Emilia in this paper was by Dr. Bromer, a
clergyman. The lady is said to have been the mother of Mr. Ascham, of
Conington, in Cambridgeshire, and grandmother of Lady Hatton. The
letter has been claimed also for John Hughes (Letters of John Hughes,
&c., vol. iii. p. 8), and Emilia identified with Anne, Countess of

[Footnote 2: [some other]]

* * * * *

No. 303. Saturday, February 16, 1712. Addison.

--volet haec sub luce videri,
Judicis argulum quae non formidat acumen.


I have seen in the Works of a Modern Philosopher, a Map of the Spots in
the Sun. My last Paper of the Faults and Blemishes in Milton's Paradise
Lost, may be considered as a Piece of the same Nature. To pursue the
Allusion: As it is observed, that among the bright Parts of the Luminous
Body above mentioned, there are some which glow more intensely, and dart
a stronger Light than others; so, notwithstanding I have already shewn
Milton's Poem to be very beautiful in general, I shall now proceed to
take Notice of such Beauties as appear to me more exquisite than the
rest. Milton has proposed the Subject of his Poem in the following

Of Man's first disobedience, and the fruit
Of that forbidden tree, whose mortal taste
Brought Death into the World and all our woe,
With loss of Eden, till one greater Man
Restore us, and regain the blisful Seat,
Sing Heavenly Muse--

These Lines are perhaps as plain, simple and unadorned as any of the
whole Poem, in which Particular the Author has conformed himself to the
Example of Homer and the Precept of Horace.

His Invocation to a Work which turns in a great measure upon the
Creation of the World, is very properly made to the Muse who inspired
Moses in those Books from whence our Author drew his Subject, and to the
Holy Spirit who is therein represented as operating after a particular
manner in the first Production of Nature. This whole Exordium rises very
happily into noble Language and Sentiment, as I think the Transition to
the Fable is exquisitely beautiful and natural.

The Nine Days Astonishment, in which the Angels lay entranced after
their dreadful Overthrow and Fall from Heaven, before they could recover
either the use of Thought or Speech, is a noble Circumstance, and very
finely imagined. The Division of Hell into Seas of Fire, and into firm
Ground impregnated with the same furious Element, with that particular
Circumstance of the Exclusion of Hope from those Infernal Regions, are
Instances of the same great and fruitful Invention.

The Thoughts in the first Speech and Description of Satan, who is one of
the Principal Actors in this Poem, are wonderfully proper to give us a
full Idea of him. His Pride, Envy and Revenge, Obstinacy, Despair and
Impenitence, are all of them very artfully interwoven. In short, his
first Speech is a Complication of all those Passions which discover
themselves separately in several other of his Speeches in the Poem. The
whole part of this great Enemy of Mankind is filled with such Incidents
as are very apt to raise and terrifie the Readers Imagination. Of this
nature, in the Book now before us, is his being the first that awakens
out of the general Trance, with his Posture on the burning Lake, his
rising from it, and the Description of his Shield and Spear.

Thus Satan talking to his nearest Mate,
With head up-lift above the wave, and eyes
That sparkling blazed, his other parts beside
Prone on the Flood, extended long and large,
Lay floating many a rood--

Forthwith upright he rears from off the pool
His mighty Stature; on each hand the flames
Drivn backward slope their pointing Spires, and roared
In Billows, leave i'th midst a horrid vale.
Then with expanded wings he steers his flight
Aloft, incumbent on the dusky Air
That felt unusual weight--

--His pondrous Shield
Ethereal temper, massie, large and round,
Behind him cast; the broad circumference
Hung on his Shoulders like the Moon, whose orb
Thro Optick Glass the Tuscan Artist views
At Evning, from the top of Fesole,
Or in Valdarno, to descry new Lands,
Rivers, or Mountains, on her spotted Globe.
His Spear (to equal which the tallest pine
Hewn on Norwegian Hills to be the Mast
Of some great Admiral, were but a wand)
He walk'd with, to support uneasie Steps
Over the burning Marl--

To which we may add his Call to the fallen Angels that lay plunged and
stupified in the Sea of Fire.

He call'd so loud, that all the hollow deep
Of Hell resounded--

But there is no single Passage in the whole Poem worked up to a greater
Sublimity, than that wherein his Person is described in those celebrated

--He, above the rest
In shape and gesture proudly eminent
Stood like a Tower, &c.

His Sentiments are every way answerable to his Character, and suitable
to a created Being of the most exalted and most depraved Nature. Such is
that in which he takes Possession of his Place of Torments.

--Hail Horrors! hail
Infernal World! and thou profoundest Hell
Receive thy new Possessor, one who brings
A mind not to be changed by place or time.

And Afterwards,

--Here at least
We shall be free; th'Almighty hath not built
Here for his envy, will not drive us hence:
Here we may reign secure; and in my choice
To reign is worth Ambition, tho in Hell:
Better to reign in Hell, than serve in Heavn.

Amidst those Impieties which this Enraged Spirit utters in other places
of the Poem, the Author has taken care to introduce none that is not big
with absurdity, and incapable of shocking a Religious Reader; his Words,
as the Poet himself describes them, bearing only a Semblance of Worth,
not Substance. He is likewise with great Art described as owning his
Adversary to be Almighty. Whatever perverse Interpretation he puts on
the Justice, Mercy, and other Attributes of the Supreme Being, he
frequently confesses his Omnipotence, that being the Perfection he was
forced to allow him, and the only Consideration which could support his
Pride under the Shame of his Defeat.

Nor must I here omit that beautiful Circumstance of his bursting out in
Tears, upon his Survey of those innumerable Spirits whom he had involved
in the same Guilt and Ruin with himself.

--He now prepared
To speak; whereat their doubled ranks they bend
From wing to wing, and half enclose him round
With all his Peers: Attention held them mute.
Thrice he assayed, and thrice in spite of Scorn
Tears such as Angels weep, burst forth--

The Catalogue of Evil Spirits has abundance of Learning in it, and a
very agreeable turn of Poetry, which rises in a great measure from [its
[1]] describing the Places where they were worshipped, by those
beautiful Marks of Rivers so frequent among the Ancient Poets. The
Author had doubtless in this place Homers Catalogue of Ships, and
Virgil's List of Warriors, in his View. The Characters of Moloch and
Belial prepare the Readers Mind for their respective Speeches and
Behaviour in the second and sixth Book. The Account of Thammuz is finely
Romantick, and suitable to what we read among the Ancients of the
Worship which was paid to that Idol.

--Thammuz came next behind.
Whose annual Wound in Lebanon allured
The Syrian Damsels to lament his fate,
In amorous Ditties all a Summers day,
While smooth Adonis from his native Rock
Ran purple to the Sea, supposed with Blood
Of Thammuz yearly wounded: the Love tale
Infected Zion's Daughters with like Heat,
Whose wanton Passions in the sacred Porch
Ezekiel saw, when by the Vision led
His Eye survey'd the dark Idolatries
Of alienated Judah.--

The Reader will pardon me if I insert as a Note on this beautiful
Passage, the Account given us by the late ingenious Mr. Maundrell [2] of
this Ancient Piece of Worship, and probably the first Occasion of such a

We came to a fair large River--doubtless the Ancient River Adonis, so
famous for the Idolatrous Rites performed here in Lamentation of
Adonis. We had the Fortune to see what may be supposed to be the
Occasion of that Opinion which Lucian relates, concerning this River,
viz. That this Stream, at certain Seasons of the Year, especially
about the Feast of Adonis, is of a bloody Colour; which the Heathens
looked upon as proceeding from a kind of Sympathy in the River for the
Death of Adonis, who was killed by a wild Boar in the Mountains, out
of which this Stream rises. Something like this we saw actually come
to pass; for the Water was stain'd to a surprizing Redness; and, as we
observ'd in Travelling, had discolour'd the Sea a great way into a
reddish Hue, occasion'd doubtless by a sort of Minium, or red Earth,
washed into the River by the Violence of the Rain, and not by any
Stain from Adonis's Blood.

The Passage in the Catalogue, explaining the manner how Spirits
transform themselves by Contractions or Enlargement of their Dimensions,
is introduced with great Judgment, to make way for several surprizing
Accidents in the Sequel of the Poem. There follows one, at the very End
of the first Book, which is what the French Criticks call Marvellous,
but at the same time probable by reason of the Passage last mentioned.
As soon as the Infernal Palace is finished, we are told the Multitude
and Rabble of Spirits immediately shrunk themselves into a small
Compass, that there might be Room for such a numberless Assembly in this
capacious Hall. But it is the Poets Refinement upon this Thought which
I most admire, and which is indeed very noble in its self. For he tells
us, that notwithstanding the vulgar, among the fallen Spirits,
contracted their Forms, those of the first Rank and Dignity still
preserved their natural Dimensions.

Thus incorporeal Spirits to smallest Forms
Reduced their Shapes immense, and were at large,
Though without Number, still amidst the Hall
Of that Infernal Court. But far within,
And in their own Dimensions like themselves,
The great Seraphick Lords and Cherubim,
In close recess and secret conclave sate,
A thousand Demy-Gods on Golden Seats,
Frequent and full--

The Character of Mammon and the Description of the Pandaemonium, are full
of Beauties.

There are several other Strokes in the first Book wonderfully poetical,
and Instances of that Sublime Genius so peculiar to the Author. Such is
the Description of Azazel's Stature, and of the Infernal Standard, which
he unfurls; as also of that ghastly Light, by which the Fiends appear to
one another in their Place of Torments.

The Seat of Desolation, void of Light,
Save what the glimmring of those livid Flames
Casts pale and dreadful--

The Shout of the whole Host of fallen Angels when drawn up in Battel

--The universal Host up sent
A Shout that tore Hells Concave, and beyond
Frighted the reign of Chaos and old Night.

The Review, which the Leader makes of his Infernal Army:

--He thro the armed files
Darts his experienc'd eye, and soon traverse
The whole Battalion mews, their Order due,
Their Visages and Stature as of Gods.
Their Number last he sums; and now his Heart
Distends with Pride, and hardning in his strength

The Flash of Light which appear'd upon the drawing of their Swords:

He spake: and to confirm his words outflew
Millions of flaming Swords, drawn from the thighs
Of mighty Cherubim; the sudden Blaze
Far round illumin'd Hell--

The sudden Production of the Pandaemonium;

Anon out of the Earth a Fabrick huge
Rose like an Exhalation, with the Sound
Of dulcet Symphonies and Voices sweet.

The Artificial Illuminations made in it:

--From the arched Roof
Pendent by subtle Magick, many a Row
Of Starry Lamps and blazing Crescets, fed
With Naphtha and Asphaltus, yielded Light
As from a Sky--

There are also several noble Similes and Allusions in the First Book of
Paradise Lost. And here I must observe, that when Milton alludes either
to Things or Persons, he never quits his Simile till it rises to some
very great Idea, which is often foreign to the Occasion that gave Birth
to it. The Resemblance does not, perhaps, last above a Line or two, but
the Poet runs on with the Hint till he has raised out of it some
glorious Image or Sentiment, proper to inflame the Mind of the Reader,
and to give it that sublime kind of Entertainment, which is suitable to
the Nature of an Heroick Poem. Those who are acquainted with Homers and
Virgil's way of Writing, cannot but be pleased with this kind of
Structure in Milton's Similitudes. I am the more particular on this
Head, because ignorant Readers, who have formed their Taste upon the
quaint Similes, and little Turns of Wit, which are so much in Vogue
among Modern Poets, cannot relish these Beauties which are of a much
higher Nature, and are therefore apt to censure Milton's Comparisons in
which they do not see any surprizing Points of Likeness. Monsieur
Perrault was a Man of this viciated Relish, and for that very Reason has
endeavoured to turn into Ridicule several of Homers Similitudes, which
he calls Comparisons a longue queue, Long-tail's Comparisons. [3] I
shall conclude this Paper on the First Book of Milton with the Answer
which Monsieur Boileau makes to Perrault on this Occasion;

Comparisons, says he, in Odes and Epic Poems, are not introduced only
to illustrate and embellish the Discourse, but to amuse and relax the
Mind of the Reader, by frequently disengaging him from too painful an
Attention to the Principal Subject, and by leading him into other
agreeable Images. Homer, says he, excelled in this Particular, whose
Comparisons abound with such Images of Nature as are proper to relieve
and diversifie his Subjects. He continually instructs the Reader, and
makes him take notice, even in Objects which are every Day before our
Eyes, of such Circumstances as we should not otherwise have observed.

To this he adds, as a Maxim universally acknowledged,

That it is not necessary in Poetry for the Points of the Comparison
to correspond with one another exactly, but that a general Resemblance
is sufficient, and that too much Nicety in this Particular favours of
the Rhetorician and Epigrammatist.

In short, if we look into the Conduct of Homer, Virgil and Milton, as
the great Fable is the Soul of each Poem, so to give their Works an
agreeable Variety, their Episodes are so many short Fables, and their
Similes so many short Episodes; to which you may add, if you please,
that their Metaphors are so many short Similes. If the Reader considers
the Comparisons in the first Book of Milton, of the Sun in an Eclipse,
of the Sleeping Leviathan, of the Bees swarming about their Hive, of the
Fairy Dance, in the view wherein I have here placed them, he will easily
discover the great Beauties that are in each of those Passages.


[Footnote 1: [his]]

[Footnote 2: A journey from Aleppo to Jerusalem at Easter, A.D. 1697. By
Henry Maundrell, M.A. It was published at Oxford in 1703, and was in a
new edition in 1707. It reached a seventh edition in 1749. Maundrell was
a Fellow of Exter College, which he left to take the appointment of
chaplain to the English factory at Aleppo. The brief account of his
journey is in the form of a diary, and the passage quoted is under the
date, March 15, when they were two days journey from Tripoli. The
stream he identifies with the Adonis was called, he says, by Turks
Ibrahim Pasha. It is near Gibyle, called by the Greeks Byblus, a place
once famous for the birth and temple of Adonis. The extract from
Paradise Lost and the passage from Maundrell were interpolated in the
first reprint of the Spectator.]

[Footnote 3: See note to No. 279. Charles Perrault made himself a
lasting name by his Fairy Tales, a charming embodiment of French nursery
traditions. The four volumes of his Paraliele des Anciens et des
Modernes 1692-6, included the good general idea of human progress, but
worked it out badly, dealing irreverently with Plato as well as Homer
and Pindar, and exalting among the moderns not only Moliere and
Corneille, but also Chapelain, Scuderi, and Quinault, whom he called
the greatest lyrical and dramatic poet that France ever had. The
battle had begun with a debate in the Academy: Racine having ironically
complimented Perrault on the ingenuity with which he had elevated little
men above the ancients in his poem (published 1687), le Siecle de Louis
le Grand. Fontenelle touched the matter lightly, as Perraults ally, in
his Digression sur les Anciens et les Modernes but afterwards drew back,
saying, I do not belong to the party which claims me for its chief.
The leaders on the respective sides, unequally matched, were Perrault
and Boileau.]

* * * * *

No. 304. Monday, February 18, 1712. Steele.

Vulnus alit venis et caeco carpitur igni.


The Circumstances of my Correspondent, whose Letter I now insert, are so
frequent, that I cannot want Compassion so much as to forbear laying it
before the Town. There is something so mean and inhuman in a direct
Smithfield Bargain for Children, that if this Lover carries his Point,
and observes the Rules he pretends to follow, I do not only wish him
Success, but also that it may animate others to follow his Example. I
know not one Motive relating to this Life which would produce so many
honourable and worthy Actions, as the Hopes of obtaining a Woman of
Merit: There would ten thousand Ways of Industry and honest Ambition be
pursued by young Men, who believed that the Persons admired had Value
enough for their Passion to attend the Event of their good Fortune in
all their Applications, in order to make their Circumstances fall in
with the Duties they owe to themselves, their Families, and their
Country; All these Relations a Man should think of who intends to go
into the State of Marriage, and expects to make it a State of Pleasure
and Satisfaction.


I have for some Years indulged a Passion for a young Lady of Age and
Quality suitable to my own, but very much superior in Fortune. It is
the Fashion with Parents (how justly I leave you to judge) to make all
Regards give way to the Article of Wealth. From this one Consideration
it is that I have concealed the ardent Love I have for her; but I am
beholden to the Force of my Love for many Advantages which I reaped
from it towards the better Conduct of my Life. A certain Complacency
to all the World, a strong Desire to oblige where-ever it lay in my
Power, and a circumspect Behaviour in all my Words and Actions, have
rendered me more particularly acceptable to all my Friends and
Acquaintance. Love has had the same good Effect upon my Fortune; and I
have encreased in Riches in proportion to my Advancement in those Arts
which make a man agreeable and amiable. There is a certain Sympathy
which will tell my Mistress from these Circumstances, that it is I who
writ this for her Reading, if you will please to insert it. There is
not a downright Enmity, but a great Coldness between our Parents; so
that if either of us declared any kind Sentiment for each other, her
Friends would be very backward to lay an Obligation upon our Family,
and mine to receive it from hers. Under these delicate Circumstances
it is no easie Matter to act with Safety. I have no Reason to fancy my
Mistress has any Regard for me, but from a very disinterested Value
which I have for her. If from any Hint in any future Paper of yours
she gives me the least Encouragement, I doubt not but I shall surmount
all other Difficulties; and inspired by so noble a Motive for the Care
of my Fortune, as the Belief she is to be concerned in it, I will not
despair of receiving her one Day from her Fathers own Hand.

I am, SIR,
Your most obedient humble Servant,

To his Worship the SPECTATOR,

The humble Petition of Anthony Title-Page, Stationer, in the Centre of

That your Petitioner and his Fore-Fathers have been Sellers of Books
for Time immemorial; That your Petitioners Ancestor, Crouchback
Title-Page, was the first of that Vocation in Britain; who keeping his
Station (in fair Weather) at the Corner of Lothbury, was by way of
Eminency called the Stationer, a Name which from him all succeeding
Booksellers have affected to bear: That the Station of your Petitioner
and his Father has been in the Place of his present Settlement ever
since that Square has been built: That your Petitioner has formerly
had the Honour of your Worships Custom, and hopes you never had
Reason to complain of your Penny-worths; that particularly he sold you
your first Lilly's Grammar, and at the same Time a Wits Commonwealth
almost as good as new: Moreover, that your first rudimental Essays in
Spectatorship were made in your Petitioners Shop, where you often
practised for Hours together, sometimes on his Books upon the Rails,
sometimes on the little Hieroglyphicks either gilt, silvered, or
plain, which the Egyptian Woman on the other Side of the Shop had
wrought in Gingerbread, and sometimes on the English Youth, who in
sundry Places there were exercising themselves in the traditional
Sports of the Field.

From these Considerations it is, that your Petitioner is encouraged to
apply himself to you, and to proceed humbly to acquaint your Worship,
That he has certain Intelligence that you receive great Numbers of
defamatory Letters designed by their Authors to be published, which
you throw aside and totally neglect: Your Petitioner therefore prays,
that you will please to bestow on him those Refuse Letters, and he
hopes by printing them to get a more plentiful Provision for his
Family; or at the worst, he may be allowed to sell them by the Pound
Weight to his good Customers the Pastry-Cooks of London and
Westminster. And your Petitioner shall ever pray, &c.


The humble Petition of Bartholomew Ladylove, of Round-Court in the
Parish of St. Martins in the Fields, in Behalf of himself and


That your Petitioners have with great Industry and Application arrived
at the most exact Art of Invitation or Entreaty: That by a beseeching
Air and perswasive Address, they have for many Years last past
peaceably drawn in every tenth Passenger, whether they intended or not
to call at their Shops, to come in and buy; and from that Softness of
Behaviour, have arrived among Tradesmen at the gentle Appellation of
the Fawners.

That there have of late set up amongst us certain Persons of
Monmouth-street and Long-lane, who by the Strength of their Arms, and
Loudness of their Throats, draw off the Regard of all Passengers from
your said Petitioners; from which Violence they are distinguished by
the Name of the Worriers.

That while your Petitioners stand ready to receive Passengers with a
submissive Bow, and repeat with a gentle Voice, Ladies, what do you
want? pray look in here; the Worriers reach out their Hands at
Pistol-shot, and seize the Customers at Arms Length.

That while the Fawners strain and relax the Muscles of their Faces in
making Distinction between a Spinster in a coloured Scarf and an
Handmaid in a Straw-Hat, the Worriers use the same Roughness to both,
and prevail upon the Easiness of the Passengers, to the Impoverishment
of your Petitioners.

Your Petitioners therefore most humbly pray, that the Worriers may not
be permitted to inhabit the politer Parts of the Town; and that
Round-Court may remain a Receptacle for Buyers of a more soft

And your Petitioners, &c.

The Petition of the New-Exchange, concerning the Arts of Buying and
Selling, and particularly valuing Goods by the Complexion of the Seller,
will be considered on another Occasion.


* * * * *

No. 305. Tuesday, February 19, 1712. Addison.

Non tali auxilio, nec defensoribus istis
Tempus eget.


Our late News-Papers being full of the Project now on foot in the Court
of France, for Establishing a Political Academy, and I my self having
received Letters from several Virtuosos among my Foreign
Correspondents, which give some Light into that Affair, I intend to make
it the Subject of this Days Speculation. A general Account of this
Project may be met with in the Daily Courant of last Friday in the
following Words, translated from the Gazette of Amsterdam.

Paris, February 12.
Tis confirmed that the King has resolved to establish a new Academy
for Politicks, of which the Marquis de Torcy, Minister and Secretary
of State, is to be Protector. Six Academicians are to be chosen,
endowed with proper Talents, for beginning to form this Academy, into
which no Person is to be admitted under Twenty-five Years of Age: They
must likewise each have an Estate of Two thousand Livres a Year,
either in Possession, or to come to em by Inheritance. The King will
allow to each a Pension of a Thousand Livres. They are likewise to
have able Masters to teach em the necessary Sciences, and to instruct
them in all the Treaties of Peace, Alliance, and others, which have
been made in several Ages past. These Members are to meet twice a Week
at the Louvre. From this Seminary are to be chosen Secretaries to
Ambassies, who by degrees may advance to higher Employments.

Cardinal Richelieus Politicks made France the Terror of Europe. The
Statesmen who have appeared in the Nation of late Years, have on the
contrary rendered it either the Pity or Contempt of its Neighbours. The
Cardinal erected that famous Academy which has carried all the Parts of
Polite Learning to the greatest Height. His chief Design in that
Institution was to divert the Men of Genius from meddling with
Politicks, a Province in which he did not care to have any one else
interfere with him. On the contrary, the Marquis de Torcy seems resolved
to make several young Men in France as Wise as himself, and is therefore
taken up at present in establishing a Nursery of Statesmen.

Some private Letters add, that there will also be erected a Seminary of
Petticoat Politicians, who are to be brought up at the Feet of Madam de
Maintenon, and to be dispatched into Foreign Courts upon any Emergencies
of State; but as the News of this last Project has not been yet
confirmed, I shall take no farther Notice of it.

Several of my Readers may doubtless remember that upon the Conclusion of
the last War, which had been carried on so successfully by the Enemy,
their Generals were many of them transformed into Ambassadors; but the
Conduct of those who have commanded in the present War, has, it seems,
brought so little Honour and Advantage to their great Monarch, that he
is resolved to trust his Affairs no longer in the Hands of those
Military Gentlemen.

The Regulations of this new Academy very much deserve our Attention. The
Students are to have in Possession, or Reversion, an Estate of two
thousand French Livres per Annum, which, as the present Exchange runs,
will amount to at least one hundred and twenty six Pounds English. This,
with the Royal Allowance of a Thousand Livres, will enable them to find
themselves in Coffee and Snuff; not to mention News-Papers, Pen and Ink,
Wax and Wafers, with the like Necessaries for Politicians.

A Man must be at least Five and Twenty before he can be initiated into
the Mysteries of this Academy, tho there is no Question but many grave
Persons of a much more advanced Age, who have been constant Readers of
the Paris Gazette, will be glad to begin the World a-new, and enter
themselves upon this List of Politicians.

The Society of these hopeful young Gentlemen is to be under the
Direction of six Professors, who, it seems, are to be Speculative
Statesmen, and drawn out of the Body of the Royal Academy. These six
wise Masters, according to my private Letters, are to have the following
Parts allotted them.

The first is to instruct the Students in State Legerdemain, as how to
take off the Impression of a Seal, to split a Wafer, to open a Letter,
to fold it up again, with other the like ingenious Feats of Dexterity
and Art. When the Students have accomplished themselves in this Part of
their Profession, they are to be delivered into the Hands of their
second Instructor, who is a kind of Posture-Master.

This Artist is to teach them how to nod judiciously, to shrug up their
Shoulders in a dubious Case, to connive with either Eye, and in a Word,
the whole Practice of Political Grimace.

The Third is a sort of Language-Master, who is to instruct them in the
Style proper for a Foreign Minister in his ordinary Discourse. And to
the End that this College of Statesmen may be thoroughly practised in
the Political Style, they are to make use of it in their common
Conversations, before they are employed either in Foreign or Domestick


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