THE subject of the discourse this evening was eloquence and graceful action. Lysander, who is something particular in his way of thinking and speaking, told us, a man could not be eloquent without action for the deportment of the body, the turn of the eye, and an apt sound to every word that is uttered, must all conspire to make an accomplished speaker. Action in one that speaks in public, is the same thing as a good mien in ordinary life. Thus, as a certain insensibility in the countenance recommends a sentence of humour and jest, so it must be a very lively consciousness that gives grace to great sentiments. The jest is to be a thing unexpected; therefore your undesigning manner is a beauty in expressions of mirth; but when you are to talk on a set subject, the more you are moved yourself, the more you will move others. 'There is,' said he, a remarkable example of that kind. Eschines, a famous orator of antiquity, had pleaded at Athens in a great cause against Demosthenes; but having lost it, retired to Rhodes.' Eloquence was then the quality most admired among men; and the magistrates of that place, having heard he had a copy of the speech of Demosthenes, desired him to repeat both their pleadings. After his own, he recited also the oration of his antagonist. The people expressed their admiration of both, but more of that of Demosthenes. If you are,' said he, "thus touched with hearing only what that great orator said, how would you have been affected had you seen him speak? For he who hears Demosthenes only, loses much the better part of the oration.' Certain it is that they who speak gracefully are very lamely represented in having their speeches read or repeated by unskilful people; for there is something native to each man, so inherent to his thoughts and sentiments, which is hardly possible for another to give a true idea of. You may observe in common talk, when a sentence of any man's is repeated, an acquaintance of his shall immediately observe, that is so like him, methinks I see see how he looked when he said it.' But of all the people on the earth, there are none who puzzle me so much as the clergy of Great Britain, who are, I believe, the most learned body of men now in the world; and yet this art of speaking, with the proper ornaments of voice and gesture, is wholly neglected among them; and I will engage, were a deaf man to behold the greater part of them preach, he would rather think they were reading the contents only of some discourse they intended to make, than actually in the body of an oration, even when they are upon matters of such a nature, as one would believe it were impossible to think of without emotion. I own there are exceptions to this general observation, aud that the dean we heard the other day together, is an orator. He has so much regard to his congregation, that he commits to his memory what he has to say to them; and has so soft and graceful a behaviour, that it must attract your attention. His person it is to be confessed, is no small recommendation; but he is to be highly commended for not losing that advantage. and adding to the propriety of speech, which might pass the criticism of Longinus, an action which would have been approved by Demosthenes. He has a peculiar force in his way, and has many of his audience who could not be intelligent hearers of his discourse, were there not explanation as well as grace in his action. This art of his is used with the most exact and honest skill: he never attempts your passions until he has convinced your reason. All the objections which be can form, are laid open and dispersed before he uses the least vehemence in his sermon; but when he thinks he has your head, he very soon wing your heart; and never pretends to show the beauty of holiness, until he hath convinced you of the truth of it. Would every one of our clergymen be thus careful to recommend truth and virtue in their proper figures, and show so much concern for them as to give them all the additional force they were able, it is not pos sible that nonsense should have so many hearers as you find it has in dissenting congregations, for no reason in the world, but because it is spoken extempore: for ordinary minds are wholly governed by their eyes and ears, and there is no way to come at their hearts, but by the power over their imaginations. There is my friend and merry companion Daniel. He knows a great deal better than he speaks, and can form a proper discourse as well as any orthodox neighbour. But he knows very well, that to bawl out My beloved!' and the words 'grace!' 'regeneration!' 'sanctification!'' a new light!''the day! the day! ay, my beloved, the day! or rather the night, the night is coming!' and 'judgment will come when we least think of it!' and so forth.-He knows, to be vehement, is the only way to come at his audience. Daniel, when he sees my friend Greenhat come in, can give a good hint and ery out, This is only for the saints! the regenerated! By this force of action, though mixed with all the incoherence and ribaldry imaginable, Daniel can laugh at his diocesan, and grow fat by voluntary subscription, while the parson of the parish goes to law for half his dues. Daniel will tell you, it is not the shepherd, but the sheep with the bell, which the flock follows.' Another thing, very wonderful this learned body should omit, is, learning to read; which is a most necessary part of eloquence in one who is to serve at the altar: for there is no man but must be sensible, that the lazy tone, and inarticulate sound of our common readers, depreciates the most proper form of words that were ever extant, in any nation or language, to speak our own wants, or his power from whom we ask relief. There cannot be a greater instance of the power of action, than in little parson Dapper, who is the common relief to all the lazy pulpits in town. This smart youth has a very good memory, a quick eye, and a clean handkerchief. Thus equipped, he opens his text, shuts his book fairly, shows he has no notes in his bible, opens both palms, and shows all is fair there too. Thus, with a decisive air, my young man goes on without hesitation; and though from the beginning to the end of his pretty discourse, he has not used one proper gesture; yet, at the conclusion, the churchwarden pulls his gloves from off his hands; 'Pray, who is this extraordinary young man?' Thus, the force of action is such, that it is more prevalent, even when improper, than all the reason and argument in the world without it. This gentleman concluded his discourse by saying, I do not doubt but if our preachers would learn to speak, and our readers to read, within six months' time we should not have a dissenter within a mile of a support without art or labour, yet his manner of enchurch in Great Britain.' From my own Apartment, September 9. I have a letter from a young fellow, who complains to me that he was bred a mercer, and is now just out of his time; but, unfortunately (for he has no manner of education suitable to his present estate) an uncle has left him one thousand pounds per annum.' The young man is sensible, that he is so spruce, that he fears he shall never be genteel as long as he lives; but applies himself to me, to know what method to take, to help his air, and be a fine gentleman. He says, that several of those ladies who were formerly his customers, visit his mother on purpose to fall in his way, and fears he shall be obliged to marry against his will; for,' says he, if any of them should ask me, I shall not be able to deny her. I am,' says he further, utterly at a loss how to deal with them; for though I was the most pert creature in the world when I was foreman, and could hand a woman of the first quality to her coach as well as her own gentleman-usher, I am now quite out of my way and speechless in their company. They commend my modesty to my face. No one scruples to say, I should certainly make the best husband in the world, a man of my sober education. Mrs. Would-be watches all opportunities to be alone with me: therefore, good Mr. Bickerstaff, here are my writings inclosed; if you can find any flaw in my title, so as it may go to the next heir, who goes to St. James's coffee-house, and White's, and could enjoy it, I should be extremely well pleased with two thousand pounds to set up my trade, and live in a way I know I should become, rather than be laughed at all my life among too good company. If you could send for my cousin, and persuade him to take the estate on these terms, and let nobody know it, you would extremely oblige me.' Upon first sight, I thought this a very whimsical proposal; however, upon more mature consideration, I could not but admire the young gentleman's prudence and good sense; for there is nothing so irksome as living in a way a man knows he does not become. I consulted Mr. Obadiah Greenhat on this occasion, and he is so well pleased with the man, that he has half a mind to take the estate himself; but, upon second thoughts, he proposed this expedient: I should be very willing,' said he, to keep the estate where it is, if we could make the young man any way easy; therefore, I humbly propose, he should take to drinking for one half-year, and make a sloven of him, and from thence begin his education a-new: for it is a maxim, that one who is ill-taught is in a worse condition than he who is wholly ignorant; therefore a spruce mercer is farther off the air of a fine gentleman, than a downright clown. To make our patient any thing better, we must unmake him what he is.' I indeed proposed to flux him; but Greenhat answered, that if he recovered, he would be as prim and feat as ever he was.' Therefore he would have it his way, and our friend is to drink until he is carbuncled and tun-bellied; after which, we will send him down to smoke and be buried with his ancestors in Derbyshire. I am, indeed, desirous he should have his life in the estate, because he has such a just sense of himself and his abilities, as to know that it is an unhappiness to him to be a man of fortune. This youth seems to understand, that a gentleman's life is that of all others the hardest to pass through with propriety of behaviour; for though he has a | joying that circumstance, is a thing to be considered; and you see, among men who are honoured with the common appellation of gentlemen, so many contradictions to that character, that it is the utmost illfortune to bear it; for which reason, I am obliged to change the circumstances of several about this town. Harry Lacker is so very exact in his dress, that I shall give his estate to his younger brother, and make him a dancing-master, Nokes Lightfoot is so nimble, and values him so much upon it, that I have thoughts of making him huntsman to a pack of beagles, and giving his land to somebody that will stay upon it. Now I am upon the topic of becoming what we enjoy, I forbid all persons who are not of the first quality, or, who do not bear some important office that requires so much distinction, to go to HydePark with six horses; for I cannot but esteem it the highest insolence. Therefore, hereafter no man shall do it merely because he is able, without any other pretension. But, what may serve all purposes quite as well, it shall be allowed all such who think riches the chief distinction, to appear in the ring with two horses only, and a rent-roll hanging out of each side of their coach. This is a thought of Mr. Greenhat's, who designs very soon to publish a sumptuary discourse upon the subject of equipage, wherein he will give us rules on that subject, and assign the proper duties and qualifications of masters and servants, as well as that of husbands and wives; with a treatise of economy without doors, or the complete art of appearing in the world. This will be very useful to all who are suddenly rich, or are ashamed of being poor. -Sunt certa piacula, quæ te Hor. 1. Ep. i. 36. And, like a charm, to the upright mind and pure, If thrice read o'er, will yield a certain cure. I have notice of a new pack of dogs, of quite another sort than hitherto mentioned. I have not an exact account of their way of hunting, the following letter giving only a bare notice of them: There are another pack of dogs to be disposed of, who kennel about Charing-cross, at the Old Fat Dog's, at the corner of Buckingham-court, near Spring-garden: two of them are said to be whelped in Alsatia, now in ruins; but they, with the rest of the pack, are as pernicious as if the old kennel had never been broken down. The ancients distinguished this sort of curs by the name of Heredipetes, the most perni, cious of all biters, for seizing young heirs, especially when their estates are entailed; whom they reduce by one good bite to such a condition, that they cannot ever after come to the use of their teeth, or get a You are desired to dispose of smelling of a crust. soon as you can, that the breed may not increase; and your care in tying them up will be acknowledged by, Sir, Your humble servant, these as 4 4 PHILANTHROPOS." St. James's Coffee-house, September 9. We have received letters from the duke of Marl borough's camp, which bring us further particulars of the great and glorious victory obtained over the enemy on the eleventh instant, N. S. The number of the wounded and prisoners is much greater than was exThe day was doubtful pected from our first account. until after twelve of the clock; but the enemy made little resistance after their first line on the left began to give way, An exact narration of the whole affair is expected next post. The French have had two days allowed them to bury their dead, and carry off their wounded men, upon parole. Those regiments of Great Britain, which suffered most, are ordered into garrison, and fresh troops commanded to march into the field. The states have also directed troops to march out of the towns, to relieve those who lost so many men in attacking the second entrenchment of the French, in the plain between Sart and Jansart. No. 67.] TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 13, 1709. From my own Apartment, September 12. No man can conceive, until he come to try it, how great a pain it is to be a public-spirited person. I am sure I am unable to express to the world what great anxiety I have suffered, to see of how little benefit my lucubrations have been to my fellow-subjects. Men will go on in their own way, in spite of all my labour. I gave Mr. Didapper a private reprimand for wearing red-heeled shoes, and at the same time was so indulgent as to connive at him for fourteen days, because I would give him the wearing of them out; but, after all this, I am informed he appeared yesterday with a new pair of the same sort. I have no better success with Mr. What-d'ye-call, as to his buttons; Stentor still roars; and box and dice rattle as loud as they did before I writ against them, Partridge walks about at noon-day, and Esculapius thinks of adding a new lace to his livery. However, I must still go on in laying these enormities before men's eyes, and let them answer for going on in their practice. My province is much larger than at first sight men would imagine, and I shall lose no part of my jurisdiction, which extends not only to futurity, but also is a retrospect to things past; and the behaviour of persons who have long ago acted their parts, is as much liable to my examination, as that of my own contemporaries. In order to put the whole race of mankind in their proper distinctions, according to the opinions their cohabitants conceived of them, I have, with very much care and depth of meditation, thought fit to erect a chamber of Fame, and established certain rules, which are to be observed in admitting members into this illustrious society. In this chamber of Fame there are to be three tables, but of different lengths; the first is to contain exactly twelve persons; the second, twenty; and the third, a hundred. This is reckoned to be the full number of those who have any competent share of fame. At the first of these tables are to be placed, in their order, the twelve most famous persons in the world; not with regard to the things they are famous for, but according to the degree of their fame, whether in valour, wit, or learning. Thus, if a scholar be more famous than a soldier, he is to sit above him. Neither must any preference be given to virtue, if the person be not equally famous. When the first table is filled, the next in renown must be seated at the second, and so on in like manner to the number of twenty; as also in the same order at the third, which is to hold a hundred. At these tables, no regard is to be had to seniority: for if Julius Caesar shall be judged more famous than Romulus and Scipio, he must have the precedence. No person who has not been dead a hundred years At the lower end of the room is to be a side table The merits of the cause shall be judged by plurality of voices. For the more impartial execution of this important affair, it is desired, that no man will offer his favou rite hero, scholar, or poet; and that the learned will be pleased to send to Mr. Bickerstaff, at Mr. Mor phew's, near Stationers'-hall, their several lists for the first table only, and in the order they would have them placed; after which, the proposer will compare the several lists, and make another for the public, wherein every name shall be ranked according to the voices it has had. Under this chamber is to be a dark vault for the same number of persons of evil fame. It is humbly submitted to consideration, whether the project would not be better if the persons of true fame meet in a middle room, those of dubious exist ence in an upper room, and those of evil fame in a lower dark room. It is to be noted, that no historians are to be admitted at any of these tables; because they are seats, and are to be made use of as ushers to the appointed to conduct the several persons to their assemblies. sistance towards this design, it being a matter of too employed in keeping people in a right way to avoid In the mean time, while I wait for these lists, I am and derision. For this end, I work upon that useful the contrary to fame and applause; to wit-blame project of the penny-post, by the benefit of which it from which society there shall go every day, circular is proposed, that a charitable society be established: letters to all parts within the bills of mortality, to tell people of their faults in a friendly and private manner, whereby they may know what the world thinks of them, before it is declared to the world that they are thus faulty. This method cannot fail of universal good consequences: for, it is further added, that they who will not be reformed by it, must be contented to see the several letters printed, which take private reprehension, they may be tried further were not regarded by them, that when they will not by a public one. I am very sorry I am obliged to print the following epistles of that kind, to some persons, and the more because they are of the fair sex. This went on Friday last to a very fine lady : 'MADAM, tender a nature as the reputation and conduct of 'I am highly sensible that there is nothing of so ladies; and that when there is the least stain got into their fame, it is hardly ever to be washed out. ' and most humble servant.' This person dresses just as she did before I writ; as does also the lady to whom I addressed the following billet the same day : 'MADAM, 'Let me beg of you to take off the patches at the lower end of your left cheek, and I will allow two more under your left eye, which will contribute more to the symmetry of your face; except you would please to remove the ten black atoms on your ladyship's chin and wear one large patch instead of them. If so, you may properly enough retain the three patches above-mentioned. I am, &c. This, I thought, had all the civility and reason in the world in it; but whether my letters are intercepted, or whatever it is, the lady patches as she used to do. It is to be observed by all the charitable society, as an instruction in their epistles, that they tell people of nothing but what is in their power to mend. I shall give another instance of this way of writing two sisters in Essex-street are eternally gaping out of the window, as if they knew not the value of time, or would call in companions. Upon which I writ the following line: : DEAR CREATUBES, ⚫ On the receipt of this, shut your casements.' But I went by yesterday, and found them still at the window. What can a man do in this case, but go on, and wrap himself up in his own integrity, with satisfaction only in this melancholy truth, that virtue is its own reward; and that if no one is the better for his admonitions, yet he is himself, the more virtuous in that he gave those advices? the confederates in the late battle is not exactly known; but it appears, by a list transmitted to the states-general, that the number of killed and wounded in their service amounts to above eight thousand. It is computed, that the English have lost fifteen hundred men, and the rest of the allies above five thousand, including the wounded. The states-general have taken the most speedy and effectual measures for reinforcing their troops; and it is expected, that in eight or ten days the army will be as numerous as、 before the battle. The affairs in Italy afford us nothing remarkable; only that it is hoped, the difference between the courts of Vienna and Turin will be speedily accommodated. Letters from Poland present us with a near prospect of seeing king Augustus reestablished on the throne, all parties being very industrious to reconcile themselves to his interests. Will's Coffee-house, September 12. Of all the pretty arts in which our modern writers excel, there is not any which is more to be recommended to the imitation of beginners, than the skill ́ of transition from one subject to another. I know not whether I make myself well understood; but it is certain, that the way of stringing a discourse, used in the Mercure Gallant, the Gentleman's Journal, and other learned writings; not to mention how naturally things present themselves to such as harangue in pulpits, and other occasions which occur to the learned; are methods worthy commendation. I shall attempt this style myself in a few lines. Suppose I was discoursing upon the king of Sweden's passing the Boristhenes. The Boristhenes is a great river, and puts me in mind of the Danube and the Rhine. The Danube I cannot think of, without reflecting on that unhappy prince who had such fair territories on the banks of it; I mean the Duke of Bavaria, who, by our last letters, is retired from Mons. Mons is as strong a fortification as any which has no citadel: and places which are not completely fortified are, methinks, lessons to princes that they are not omnipotent, but liable to the strokes of fortune. But as all princes are subject to such calamities, it is the part of men of letters to guard them from the observations of all small writers; for which reason, I shall conclude my present remarks, by publishing the following advertisement, to be taken notice of by all who dwell in the suburbs of learning. 'Whereas the king of Sweden has been so unfortunate as to receive a wound in his heel; we do hereby prohibit all epigrammatists in either language and both universities, as well as all other poets, of what denomination soever, to make any mention of Achilles having received his death's wound in the same part. We do likewise forbid all comparisons in coffeehouses between Alexander the Great and the said king of Sweden, and from making any parallels between the death of Patkul and Philotas; we being very apprehensive of the reflections that several politicians have ready by them to produce on this occasion, and being willing, as much as in us lies, to free the town from all impertinences of this nature. St. James's Coffee-house, September 12. Letters of the thirteenth instant from the Duke of Marlborough's camp at Havre, advise, that the necessary dispositions were made for opening the trenches before Mons. The direction of the siege is to be committed to the Prince of Orange, who designed to take his post accordingly, with thirty battalions and No. 68.] THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 15, 1709. thirty squadrons on the day following. On the seventeenth Lieutenant-General Cadogan set out for Brussels, to hasten the ammunition and artillery which is to be employed in this enterprise; and the confederate army was extended from the Haisne to the Trouille, in order to cover the siege. The loss of From my own Apartment, September 14. THE progress of our endeavours will of necessity be very much interrupted, except the learned world will please to send their lists to the chamber of Fame with all expedition. There is nothing can so much contribute to create a noble emulation in our youth, as the honourable mention of such whose actions have outlived the injuries of time, and recommended them so far to the world, that it is become learning to know the least circumstance of their affairs. It is a great incentive to see, that some men have raised themselves so highly above their fellowcreatures, that the lives of ordinary men are spent in enquiries after the particular actions of the most illustrious. True it is, that without this impulse to fame and reputation, our industry would stagnate, and that lively desire of pleasing each other, die away. This opinion was so established in the heathen world, that their sense of living appeared insipid, except their being was enlivened with a consciousness that they were esteemed by the rest of the world. Upon examining the proportion of men's fame for my table of twelve, I thought it no ill way (since I had laid it down for a rule, that they were to be ranked simply as they were famous, without regard to their virtue) to ask my sister Jenny's advice; and particularly mentioned to her the name of Aristotle. She immediately told me, he was a very great scholar, and that she had read him at the boarding school. She certainly means a trifle, sold by the hawkers called Aristotle's Problems.' But this raised a great scruple in me, whether a fame increased by imposition of others is to be added to his account, or that these excrescences which grow out of his real reputation, and give encouragement to others to pass things under the covert of his name, should be considered in giving him his seat in the chamber? This punctilio is referred to the learned. In the mean time, so ill-natured are mankind, that I believe I have names already sent me sufficient to fill up my lists for the dark room, and every one is apt enough to send in their accounts of ill-deservers. This malevolence does not proceed from a real dislike of virtue, but a diabolical prejudice against it, which makes men willing to destroy what they care not to imitate. Thus you see the greatest characters among your acquaintance, and those you live with, are traduced by all below them in virtue, who never mention then but with an exception. However, I believe I shall not give the world much trouble about filling my tables for those of evil fame; for I have some thoughts of clapping up the sharpers there as fast as I can lay hold of them. At present, I am employed in looking over the several notices which I have received of their manner of dexterity, and the way at dice of making all rugg, as the cant is. The whole art of securing a die has lately been sent me, by a person who was of the fraternity, but is disabled by the loss of a finger; by which means he cannot practise that trick as he used to do. But I am very much at a loss how to call some of the fair sex, who are accomplices with the Knights of Industry; for my metaphorical dogs are easily enough understood; but the feminine gender of dogs has so harsh a sound, that we know not how to name it. But I am credibly informed, that there are female dogs as voracious as the males, and make advances to young fellows, without any other design but coming to a familiarity with their purses. I have also long lists of persons of condition, who are certainly of the same regimen with these banditti, and instrumental to their cheats upon undiscerning men of their own rank. These add their good reputation to carry on the impostures of others, whose very names would else be defence enough against falling into their hands. But, for the honour of our nation, these shall be unmentioned; provided we hear no more of such practices, and that they shall not from hence- Will's Coffee-house, September 14. I find left here for me the following epistle : 'Having lately read your discourse about the family of Trubies, wherein you observed that there are some who fall into laughter out of a certain benevalence in their temper, and not out of the ordinary motive, viz. contempt, and triumph over the imper fections of others; I have conceived a good idea of your knowledge of mankind. And, as you have a tragi-comic genius, I beg the favour of you to give as your thoughts of a quite different effect, which also is caused by other motives than what are commonly taken notice of. What I would have you treat of is cuss it a little, with observations upon the various the cause of shedding tears. I desire you would disoccasions which provoke us to that expression of our concern, &c.' To obey this complaisant gentleman, I know no way so short as examining the various touches of my own bosom, on several occurrences in a long life, to the evening of which I am arrived, after as many various incidents as any body has met with, I have often reflected, that there is a great similitude in the motions of the heart in mirth and in sorrow; and I think the usual occasion of the latter, as well as the former, is something which is sudden and unexpected. The mind has not a sufficient time to recollect its force, and immediately gushes into tears before we can utter ourselves by speech or complaint. The most notorious causes of these drops from our eyes are pity, sorrow, joy, and reconciliation. The fair sex, who are made of man, and not of earth, have a more delicate humanity than we have; and pity is the most common cause of their tears; for as we are inwardly composed of an aptitude to every circumstance of life, and every thing that befalls any one person might have happened to any other of human race; self-love, and a sense of the pain we ourselves should suffer in the circumstances of any whom we pity, is the cause of that compassion. Such a reflection in the breast of a woman, immediately inclines her to tears; but in a man, it makes him think how such a one ought to act on that occasion suitably to the dignity of his nature. Thus a woman is ever moved for those whom she hears lament, and a man for those whom he observes to suffer in silence. It is a man's own behaviour in the circumstances he is under, which procures him the esteem of others, and pity; for we never give a man that passion which he not merely the affliction itself which demands our falls into for himself. never purchases our applause; por he who bewails He that commends himself himself, our pity. Going through an alley the other day, I observed wounded in a merchant-man; that he had lost his a noisy impudent beggar bawl out, that he was passed by made what haste they could out of his poor limbs; and shewed a leg clouted up. All that sight and hearing; but a poor fellow at the end of the passage, with a rusty coat, a melancholy air, and soft, |