you shift the scene of your life from the town to the country, and enjoy that niixt state which wise men both delight in, aud are qualified for. Methinks most of the philosophers and moralists have run too much into extremes, in praising entirely either solitude or public life; in the former, men generally grow useless by too much rest, and in the latter are destroyed by too much precipitation: as waters lying still putrify, and are good for nothing: and running violently ou, do but the more mischief in their passage to others, and are swallowed up and lost the sooner themselves. Those who, like you, can make themselves useful to all states, should be like gentle streams, that not only glide through lonely vales and forests amidst the flocks and shepherds, but visit populous towns in their course, and are at once of ornament and service to them. But there is another sort of people who seem designed for solitude, those I mean who have more to hide than to show. As for my own part, I am one of those of whom Seneca says, ' Tarn umbratiles sunt, ut putent in turbido esse quicquid in luce est.' Some men, like pictures, are fitter for a corner than a full light; and I believe such as have a natural bent to solitude, are like waters which may be forced into fountains, and exalted to a great height, may make a much nobler figure, and a much louder noise, but after all run more smoothly, equally, and plentifully, in their own natural course upon the ground. The consideration of this would make me very well contented with the possession only of that quiet which Cowley calls the companion of obscurity; but whoever has the Muses too for his companions, can never be idle enough to be uneasy. Thus, Sir, you see I would flatter myself into a good opinion of my own way of living: Plutarch just now told me, that it is in human life as in a game at tables, one may wish he had the highest cast, but if his chance be otherwise, he is even to play it as well as he can, and make the best of it. " I am, Sir, your most obliged, and most humble servant" " Mr. Spectator, " The town being so well pleased with the fine picture of artless love, which Nature inspired the Laplander to paint in the ode you lately printed: * we were in hopes that the ingenious translator would nave obliged it with the other also which Schefler has given us; but since he has not, a much inferior hand has ventured to Bend you this. " It is a custom with the northern lovers to divert themselves with a song whilst they journey through the fenny moors to pay a visit to their mistresses. This is addressed by the lover to his rein-deer, which is the creature that in that country supplies the want of horses. The circumstances which successively present * 6ee No. 366. themselves to him in his way, are, 1 believe you will think, naturally interwoven. The anxiety of absence, the gloominess of the raids, and his resolution of frequenting only those, since those only can carry him to the object of his desires; the dissatisfaction be expresses even at the greatest swiftness with which he is carried, and his joyful surprise at an unexpected sight of his mistress is she is bathing, seem beautifully described in the original. ■' If all those pretty images of rural nature are lost in the imitation, yet possibly you may think fit to let this supply the place of i long letter, when want of leisure or indisposition for writing will not permit our being entertained by your own hand. I propose such a time, because, though it is natural to have a fondness for what one does one's self, yet I assure you I would not have any thing of mine displace a single line of yours. "' Haste, my reindeer, and let us nimbly go Our am'rons journey through this dreary waste; " ' Around us far the rushy moors are spread : Soon will the sun withdraw his cheerful ray : "' The wat'ry length of these unjoyous moors "' Each moment from the charmer, I'm confin'd, "' Our pleasing toil will then be soon o'erpaid, "' But lo! with graceful motion there she swims, "' In vain, re envious streams, so fast ye flow, VOL. m, B No. 407. TUESDAY, JUNE 17, 1718. abest facundiB gratia dictis. ovin. Met. Xiii. 127. Eloquent words a graceful manner want. Most foreign writers, who have given any character of the English nation, whatever vices they ascrihe to it, allow, in general, that the people are naturally modest It proceeds perhaps from this our national virtue, that our orators are observed to make use of less gesture or action than those of other countries. Our preachers stand stock still in the pulpit, and will not so much as move a finger to set off the best sermons in the world. We meet with the same speaking statues at our bars, and in all public places of debate. Our words flow from us in a smooth continued stream, without those strainings of the voice, motions of the body, and majesty of the hand, which are so much celebrated in the orators of Greece and Rome. We can talk of life and death in cold blood, and keep our temper in a discourse which turns upon everything that is dear to us. Though our zeal breaks out in the finest tropes and figures, it is not able to stir a limb about us. I have heard it observed more than once, by those who have seen Italy, that an untravelled Englishman cannot relish all the beauties of Italian pictures, because the postures which are expressed in them are often such as are peculiar to that country. One who has not seen an Italian in the pulpit, will not know what to make of that noble gesture in Raphael's picture of St. Paul preaching at Athens, where the apostle is represented as lifting up both his arms, and pouring out the thunder of his rhetoric amidst an audience of pagan philosophers. It is certain, that proper gestures and vehement exertions of the voice cannot be too much studied by a public orator. They are a kind of comment to what he utters, and enforce everything be says, with weak hearers, better than the strongest argument he can make use of. They keep the audience awake, and fix their attention to what is delivered to them, at the same time that they show the speaker is in earnest, and affected himself with what he Bo passionately recommends to others. Violent gesture and vociferation naturally shake the hearts of the ignorant, and fill them with a kind of religious horror. Nothing is more frequent than to see women weep and tremble at the sight of a moving preacher, though he is placed quite out of their hearing; as in England we very frequently see people lulled asleep with solid and elaborate discourses of piety, who would be warmed and transported out of themselves by the bellowing and distortions of enthusiasm. If nonsense, when accompanied with such an emotion of voije aad body, has such an influence on men's minds, what might we not expect from many of those admirable discourses which are printed in our tongue, were they delivered with a becoming fervour, md with the most agreeable graces of voice and gesture? We are told that the great Latin orator very much impaired his Malth by this laterum contentio, this vehemence of action, with which be used to deliver himself. The Greek orator was likewise so very famous for this particular in rhetoric, that one of his antagonists, whom he had banished from Athens, reading over the oration which had procured his banishment, and seeing bis friends admire it, could not forbear asking them, if they were so much affected by the bare reading of it, how much more they would hare been alarmed had they beard him actually throwing out such a storm ot eloquence ? How cold and dead a figure, in comparison of these two great men, does an orator often make at the British bar, holding up his bead with the most insipid serenity, and stroking the sides of a long wig that reaches down to his middle! The truth of it is, there is often nothing more ridiculous than the gestures of an English speaker; you see some of them running their hands into their pockets as far as ever they can thrust them, and others looking with great attention on a piece of paper that has nothing written in it; you may see many a smart rhetorician turning bis Hit in his hands, moulding it into several different cocks, examining sometimes the lining of it, and sometimes the button, during the whole course of his harangue. A deaf man would think he was cheapening a beaver, when perhaps he is talking of the fate of the British nation. I remember, when I was a young man, and iaed to frequent Westminster-hall, there was a counsellor who never pleaded without a piece of packthread in his hand, which he used to twist about a thumb or a finger all the while he was speaking; the wags of those days used to call it " the thread of his discourse," for he was not able to utter a word without it. One of bit clients, who was more merry than wise, stole it from him one uay in the midst of his pleading; but he had better have let it slotie, for lie lost his cause by his jest. I have all along acknowledged myself to be a dumb man, and therefore may be thought a very improper person to give rules for oratory; but I believe every one will agree with me in this, that £ ought either to lay aside all kinds of gesture (which seems to very suitable to the genius of our nation), or at least to make '« of such only as are graceful and expressive. iDDISOX. O, No. 408. WEDNESDAY, JUNE 18, 1712. Decet affectus animi neqae He nimium erigere, nee subjacerc serriliter. TULL. I»K. FIKIBDS. We should keep our passions from being exalted above measure, or servilely depressed. " M B. Spectator, " I Have always been a very great lover of your speculations, as well in regard to the subject, as to your manner of treating it. Human nature I always thought the most useful object of human reason, and to make the consideration of it pleasant and entertaining. I always thought the best employment of human wit: other parts of philosophy may perhaps make us wiser, but this not only answers that end, lint makes us better too. Hence it was that the oracle pronounced Socrates the wisest of all men living, because he judiciously made choice of human nature for the object of his thoughts; an inquiry into which as much exceeds all other learning, as it is cf moie consequence to adjust the true nature and measures of right and wrong, than to settle the distance of the planets, and compute the times of their circumvolutions. " One good effect that will immediately arise from a near observation of human nature, is, that we shall cease to wonder at those actions which men are used to reckon wholly unaccountable; for as nothing is produced without a cause, so, by observing the nature and course of the passions, we shall be able to trace every action from its first conception to its death. We shall no more admire at the proceedings of Catiline or Tiberius, when we know the one was actuated by a cruel jealousy, the other by a furious ambition; for the actions of men iollow their passions as naturally as light does heat, or as any other effect flows from its cause; reason must be employed in adjusting the passions, but they must ever remain the principles of action. " The strange and absurd variety that is so apparent in men's actions, shows plainly thoy can never proceed immediately from reason; so pure a fountain emits no such troubled waters. They must necessarily arise from the passions, which are to the mind as the winds to a ship; they only can move it, and they too often destroy it: if fair and gentle, they guide it into the harbour; if contrary and furious, they overset it in the waves. In the same manner is the mind assisted or endangered by the passions; reason must then take the place of pilot, and can never fail of securing her charge if she be not wanting to herself. The strength of the passions will never be accepted as an excuse for complying with them; they were designed for subjection; and if a man |