such a manner, that the equality of society is perfectly kept up, and every man obliges as much as he is obliged for it is the greatest and justest skill in a man of superior understanding, to know how to be on a level with his companions. This sweet disposition runs through all the actions of Sophronius, and makes his company desired by women, without being envied by men. Sophronius would be as just as he is, if there were no law; and would be as discreet as he is, if there were no such thing as calumny.

In imitation of this agreeable being, made that animal we call a Pretty Fellow; who, being jnst able to find out, that what makes Sophronius acceptable is a natural behaviour, in order to the same reputation, makes his own an artificial one. Jack Dimple is his perfect mimic, whereby he is, of course, the most unlike him of all men living. Sophronius just now passed into the inner room directly forward; Jack comes as fast after as he can for the right and left looking-glass, in which he had but just approved himself by a nod at each, and marched on. He will meditate within for half an hour, until he thinks he is not careless enough in his air, and come back to the mirror to recollect his forgetfulness.

Will's Coffeehouse, May 27.

This night was acted the comedy called 'The Fox; but I wonder the modern writers do not use their interest in the house to suppress such representations. A man that has been at this will hardly like any other play during the season: therefore I humbly move, that the writings, as well as dresses, of the last age should give way to the present fashion. We are come into a good method enough (if we were not interrupted in our mirth by such an apparition as a play of Jonson's) to be entertained at more ease, both to the spectator and the writer, than in the days of old. It is no difficulty to get hats and swords, and wigs and shoes, and every thing else, from the shops in town; and make a man show himself by his habit, without more ado, to be a counsellor, a fop, a courtier, or a citizen, and not be obliged to make those characters talk in different dialects to be distinguished from each other. This is certainly the surest and best way of writing: but such a play as this makes a man for a month after over-run with criticism, and enquire, 'What every man on the stage said? what had such a one to do to meddle with such a thing? how came the other, who was bred after this or that manner, to speak so like a man conversant among a different people? These questions rob us of all our pleasure; for, at this rate, no sentence in a play should be spoken by any one character which could possibly enter into the head of any other man represented in it; but every sentiment should be peculiar to him only who utters it. Laborious Ben's works will bear this sort of inquisition; but if the present writers were thus examined, and the offences against this rule cut out, few plays would be long enough for the whole evening's entertainment.

But I do not know how they did in those old times this same Ben Jonson has made every one's passion in this play be towards money; and yet not one of them expresses that desire, or endeavours to obtain it, any way but what is peculiar to him only: one sacrifices his wife, another his profession, another his posterity, from the same motive; but their characters are kept so skilfully apart, that it seems prodigious their discourses should rise from the invention of the same author.

But the poets are a nest of hornets, and I will

drive these thoughts no farther; but must mention some hard treatment I am like to meet with from my brother-writers. I am credibly informed, that the author of a play, called 'Love in a Hollow Tree,' has made some remarks upon my late discourse on The Naked Truth.' I cannot blame a gentleman for writing against any error; it is for the good of the learned world. But I would have the thing fairly left between us two, and not under the protection of patrons. But my intelligence is, that he hath dedicated his treatise to the honorable Mr. Ed-d Hrd.

From my own Apartment, May 27.

TO ISAAC BICKERSTAFF, ESQ.

SIR, York, May 16, 1709. 'Being convinced, as the whole world is, how infallible your predictions are, and having the honour to be your near relation of the Staffian family, I was under great concern at one of your predictions relating to yourself, wherein you foretold your own death would happen on the seventeenth instant, unless it were prevented by the assistance of well-disposed people I have therefore prevailed on my own modesty to send you a piece of news, which may serve instead of Goddard's drops, to keep you alive for two days, until nature be able to recover itself, or until you meet with some better help from other hands. Therefore, without further ceremony, I will relate a singular adventure just happened in the place where I am writing, wherewith it may be highly useful for the public to be informad.

'Three young ladies of our town were on Saturday last indicted for witchcraft. The witnesses against the first deposed upon oath before Justice Bindover, that she kept spirits locked up in vessels, which sometimes appeared in flames of blue fire; that she used magical herbs, with some of which she drew in hundreds of men daily to her, who went out from her presence all inflamed, their mouths parched, and a hot steam issuing from them, attended with a grievous stench: that many of the said men were by the force of that herb metamorphosed into swine, and lay wallowing in their kennels for twenty-four hours, before they could reassume their shapes or their senses.

It was proved against the second, That she cut off by night the limbs from dead bodies that were hanged, and was seen to dig holes in the ground, to mutter some conjuring words, and bury pieces of the flesh after the usual manner of witches.

'The third was accused for a notorious piece of sorcery, long practised by hags, of moulding up pieces of dough into the shapes of men, women, and children; then heating them at a gentle fire, which had a sympathetic power to torment the bowels of those in the neighbourhood.

This was the sum of what was objected against the three ladies, who indeed had nothing to say in their own defence but downwright deny the facts, which is like to avail very little when they come upon their trials.

'But the parson of the parish, a strange refractory man, will believe nothing of all this: so that the whole town cries out "Shame! that one of his coat should be such an atheist ;" and design to complain of him to the bishop. He goes about very oddly to solve the matter. He supposes, that the first of these ladies keeping a brandy and tobacco shop, the fellows went out smoaking; and got drunk towards evening, and made themselves beasts. He says, the second is a butcher's daughter, and sometimes brings

a quarter of mutton from the slaughter-house over night against a market-day, and once buried à bit of beef in the ground, as a known receipt to cure warts on her hands. The parson affirms, that the third sells gingerbread, which, to please the children, she is forced to stamp with images before it is baked; and if it burns their guts, it is because they eat too much, or do not drink after it.

These are the answers he gives to solve those wonderful phenomena; upon which I shall not animadvert, but leave it among philosophers: and so, wishing you all success in your undertakings for the amendment of the world, I remain, dear cousin,

"Your most affectionate kinsman, ' and humble servant, EPHRAIM BEDSTAFF. P.S. Those who were condemned to death among the Athenians were obliged to take a dose of poison, which made them die upwards; seizing first upon their feet, making them cold and insensible, and so ascending gradually, until it reached the vital parts. I believe your death, which you foretold would happen on the seventeenth instant, will fall out the same way, and that your distemper hath already seized on you, and makes progress daily. The lower part of you, that is, the advertisements, is dead; and these have risen for these ten days last past, so that they now take up almost a whole paragraph. Pray, sir, do you endeavour to drive this distemper as much as possible to the extreme parts, and keep it there, as wise folks do the gout: for if it once gets into your stomach, it will soon fly up into your head, and you

are a dead man.'

St. James's Coffee-house, May 27.

We hear from Leghorn, that Sir Edward Whitaker, with five men-of-war, four transports, and two fireships, were arrived at that port; and Admiral Byng was suddenly expected. Their squadrons being joined, they designed to sail directly for Final, to transport the reinforcements lodged in those parts to Barcelona.

They write from Milan, that Count Thuan arrived there on the sixteenth instant, N.S. and proceeded on his journey to Turin on the twenty-first, in order to concert such measures with his Royal Highness, as shall appear necessary for the operations of the ensuing campaign.

Advices from Dauphiné say, that the troops of the Duke of Savoy begin already to appear in those vallies, whereof he made himself master the last year; and that the Duke of Berwick applied himself with all imaginable diligence to secure the passes of the mountains, by ordering intrenchments to be made towards Briançon, Tourneau, and the valley of Queiras. That general has also been at Marseilles and Toulon, to hasten the transportation of the corn and provisions designed for his army.

Letters from Vienna bearing date May the twentythird, N.S. import, that the Cardinal of Saxe Zeits and the Prince of Lichtenstein were preparing to set out for Presburgh, to assist at the diet of the States of Hungary, which is to be assembled at that place on the twenty-fifth of this month. General Heister will shortly appear at the head of his army at Trenchin, which place is appointed for the general rendezvous of the imperial forces in Hungary; from whence he will advance to lay siege to Newhausel. In the mean time reinforcements, with a great train of artillery, are marching the same way. The King of Denmark arrived on the tenth înstant at Inspruck, and on the

twenty-fifth at Dresden, under a triple discharge of the artillery of that place; but his majesty refused the ceremonies of a public entry.

Our letters from the Upper Rhine say, that the imperial army began to form itself at Etlingen; where the respective deputies of the elector Palatine, the Prince of Baden Durlach, the bishoprick of Spires, &c. were assembled, and had taken the necessary measures for the provision of forage, the security of the country against the incursions of the enemy, and laying a bridge over the Rhine. Several vessels laden with corn are daily passing before Frankfort for the Lower Rhine.

Letters from Poland inform us, that a detachment of Muscovite cavalry, under the command of General Instand, had joined the confederate army; and the infantry, commanded by General Goltz, was expected to come up within a few days. These succours will amount to twenty thousand men.

Our last advices from the Hague, dated June the fourth, N.S. say, that they expected a courier from the French Court, with a ratification of the preliminaries, that night or the day following. His Grace the Duke of Marlborough will set out for Brussels on Wednesday or Thursday next, if the despatches which are expected from Paris do not alter his resolutious. Letters from Majorca confirm the honourable capitu lation of the Castle of Alicant, and also the death of the Governor, Major-General Richards, Colonel Sibourg, and Major Vignolles, who were all buried in the ruins of that place by the springing of the great mine, which did, it seems, more execution than was reported. Monsieur Torcy passed through Mons in his return, and had there a long conference with the Elector of Bavaria; after which, the Prince spoke publicly of the treatment he had received from France, with the utmost indignation.

Any person that shall come publicly abroad in a fantastical habit, contrary to the present mode and fashion, except Don Diego Dismallo, or any other out of poverty, shall have his name and dress inserted in our next.'

N. B. Mr. How'd'yecall is desired to leave off those buttons.'

No. 22.] TUESDAY, MAY 31, 1709.

White's Chocolate-house, May 28.

I CAME hither this evening to see fashions; and who should I first encounter but my old friend Cynthio (encompassed by a crowd of young fellows) dictating on the passion of love with the gayest air imaginable! Well,' says he, as to what I know of the matter, there is nothing but ogling with skill carries a woman; but indeed it is not every fool that is capable of this art; you will find twenty can speak eloquently, fifty that can fight manfully, and a thousand that can dress genteelly at a mistress, where there is one that can gaze skilfully. This requires an exquisite judgment, to take the language of her eyes to yours exactly, and not let yours talk too fast for hers; as at a play between the acts, when bean Frisk stands upon à bench full in Lindamira's face, and her dear eyes are searching round to avoid that flaring open fool; she meets the watchful glance of her true lover, and sees his heart attentive on her charms, and waiting for a second twinkle of her eye for its next motion. Here the good company sneered; but he goes on. Nor is this attendance a slavery, when a man meets with encouragement, and her eye comes often in his way for after an evening so spent, and the repetition of four or five

་

significant looks at him, the happy man goes home to his lodgings full of ten thousand pleasing images; his brain is dilated, and gives him all the ideas and prospects which it ever lets into its seat of pleasure. Thus a kind look from Lindamira revives in his imagination all the beauteous lawns, green fields, woods, forests, rivers, and solitudes, which he had ever before seen in picture, description, or real life: and all with this addition, that he now sees them with the eyes of a happy lover, as before only with those of a common man. You laugh, gentlemen, but consider yourselves (ye common people that were never in love) and compare yourselves in good humour with yourselves out of humour, and ye will then acknowledge, that all external objects affect you according to the dispositions ye are in to receive their impressions, and not as those objects are in their own nature. How much more shall all that passes within his view and observation touch with delight a man who is prepossessed with successful love, which is an assemblage of soft affection, gay desires, and hopeful resolutions?'

Poor Cynthio went on at this rate to the crowd about him, without any purpose in his talk, but to vent a heart overflowing with sense of success. I wondered what could exalt him from the distress in which he had long appeared, to so much alacrity: but my familiar has given me the state of his affairs. It seems, then, that lately coming out of the playhouse, his mistress, who knows he is in her livery, as the manner of insolent beauties is, is resolved to keep him still so, and gave him so much wages as to complain to him of the crowd she was to pass through. He had his wits and resolution enough about him to take her hand, and say, he would attend her to the coach. All the way thither my good young man stammered at every word, and stumbled at every step. His mistress, wonderfully pleased with her triumph, put to him a thousand questions, to make a man of his natural wit speak with hesitation; and let drop her fan to see him recover it awkwardly. This is the whole foundation of Cynthio's recovery to the sprightly air he appears with at present.

I grew mighty curious to know something more of that lady's affairs, as being amazed how she could dally with an offer of one of his merit and fortune. I sent Pacolet to her lodgings, who immediately brought me back the following letter to her friend and confidant, Amanda, in the country, wherein she has opened her heart and all its folds.

DEAR AMANDA,

The town grows so empty, that you must expect my letter so too, except you will allow me to talk of myself instead of others: you cannot imagine what pain it is, after a whole day spent in public, to want your company, and the ease which friendship allows in being vain to each other, and speaking all our minds. An account of the slaughter which these unhappy eyes have made within ten days last past, would make me appear too great a tyrant to be allowed in a Christian country. I shall therefore confine myself to my principal conquests, which are the hearts of beau Frisk and Jack Freeland, besides Cynthio, who you know, wore my fetters before you went out of town. Shall I tell you my weakness? I begin to love Frisk: it is the best humoured impertinent thing in the world: he is always too in waiting, and will certainly carry me off one time or other. Freeland's father and mine have been upon a treaty without consulting me; and Cynthio has been eterTHE TATLER, No. 6.

nally watching my eyes, without approaching me, my friends, my maid, or any one about me: he hopes to get me, believe, as they say the rattlesnake does the squirrel, by staring at me until I drop into his mouth. Freeland demands me for a jointure, which he thinks deserves me: Cynthio thinks nothing high enough to be my value: Freeland therefore will take it for no obligation to have me; and Cynthio's idea of me is what will vanish by knowing me better. Familiarity will equally turn the veneration of the one, and the indifference of the other, into contempt. I will stick therefore to my old maxim, to have that sort of man, who can have no greater views than what are in my power to give him possession of. The utmost of my dear Frisk's ambition is, to be thought a man of fashion; and therefore has been so much in mode, as to resolve upon me, because the whole town likes me. Thus I choose rather a man who loves me because others do, than one who approves me on his own judgment. He that judges for himself in love will often change his opinion; but he that follows the sense of others must be constant, as long as a woman can make advances. The visits I make, the entertainments I give, and the addresses I receive, will be all arguments for me with a man of Frisk's second-hand genius; but would be so many bars to my happiness with any other man. However, since Frisk can wait, I shall enjoy a summer or two longer, and remain a single woman, in the sublime pleasure of being followed and admired; which nothing can equal, except that of being beloved by you. I am, &c.

Will's Coffee-house, May 30.

My chief business here this evening was to speak to my friends in behalf of honest Cave Underhill, who has been a comic for three generations: my father admired him extremely when he was a boy. There is certainly nature excellently represented in his manner of action in which he ever avoided that general fault in players, of doing too much. It must be confessed, he has not the merit of some ingenious persons now on the stage, of adding to his authors; for the actors were so dull in the last age, that many of them have gone out of the world, without having ever spoke one word of their own in the theatre. Poor Cave is so mortified, that he quibbles and tells you, he pretends only to act a part fit for a man who has one foot in the grave, viz. a grave-digger. All ad mirers of true comedy, it is hoped, will have the gratitude to be present on the last day of his acting, who if he does not happen to please them, will have it even then to say, that it is his first offence.

But there is a gentleman here, who says he has it from good hands, that there is actually a subscription made by many persons of wit and quality for the encouragement of new comedies. This design will very much contribute to the improvement and diversion of the town: but as every man is most concerned for himself, I, who am of a saturnine and melancholy complexion, cannot but murmur, that there is not an equal invitation to write tragedies; having by me, in my book of common places, enough to enable me to finish a very sad one by the fifth of the next month. I have the farewell of a general, with a truncheon in his hand, dying for love, in six lines. I have the principles of a politician (who does all the mischief in the play,) together with his declaration on the vanity of ambition in his last moments expressed in a page and a half. I have all my oaths ready, and my similies want nothing but application. I will not pretend to give you an account of the plot, it G

say his Highness Prince Eugene had received a letter from Monsieur Torcy, wherein that minister, after many expressions of great respect, acquaints him, that his master had absolutely refused to sign the preliminaries to the treaty which he had, in his Majesty's behalf, consented to at the Hague. Upon the receipt of this intelligence, the face of things at that place was immediately altered, and the necessary orders were transmitted to the troops (which lay most remote from thence) to move toward the place of rendezvous with all expedition. The enemy seems also to prepare for the field, and have at present drawn together twenty-five thousand men in the plains of Lentz. Marshal Villars is at the head of those troops; and has given the generals under his command all possible assurances, that he will turn the fate of the war to the advantage of his master.

They write from the Hague of the seventh, that Monsieur Rouille had received orders from the court of France,to signify to the States General, and the ministers of the high allies, that the King could not consent to the preliminaries of a treaty of peace, as it was offered to him by Monsieur Torcy. The great difficulty is the business of Spain, on which particular, his ministers seemed only to say, during the treaty, that it was not so immediately under their master's direction, as that he could engage for its being relinquished by the Duke of Anjou: but now he positively answers, that he cannot comply with what his minister has promised in his behalf, even in such points as are wholly in himself to act in, or not. This has had no other effect than to give the alliance fresh arguments for being diffident of engagements entered into by France. The pensioner made a report of all which this minister had declared to the deputies of the States General, and all things turn towards a vigorous war. The Duke of Marlborough designed to leave the Hague within two days, in order to put himself at the head of the army, which is to assemble on the seventeenth instant between the Scheld and the Lis. A fleet of eighty sail, laden with corn from the Baltic, is arrived in the Texel. The states have sent circular letters to all the provinces, to notify this change of affairs, and animate their subjects to new resolutions in defence of their country.

From my own Apartment, May 31.

The public is not so little my concern, though I am but a student, as that I should not interest myself in the present great things in agitation. I am still of opinion the French King will sign the preliminaries. With that view, I have sent him, by my familiar, the following epistle, and admonished him, on pain of what I shall say of him to future generations, to act with sincerity on this occasion.

London, May 31.

ISAAC BICKERSTAFF, ESQUIRE, OF GREAT BRITAIN,

TO LOUIS XIV. OF FRANCE.

The surprising news which arrived this day, of your Majesty's having refused to sign the treaty your ministers have in a manner sued for, is what gives ground to this application to your Majesty, from one, whose name perhaps is too obscure to have ever reached your territories; but one, who, with all the European World, is affected with your determinations. Therefore, as it is mine and the common cause of mankind, I presume to expostulate with you on this occasion. It will, I doubt not, appear to the vulgar extravagant, that the actions of

a mighty Prince should be balanced by the censure of a private man, whose approbation or dislike are equally contemptible in their eyes, when they regard the thrones of Sovereigns. But your Majesty has shown, through the whole course of your reign, too great a value for liberal arts; to be insensible that true fame lies only in the hands of learned men, by whom it is to be transmitted to futurity, with marks of honour or reproach to the end of time. The date of human life is too short to recompence the cares which attend the most private condition. Therefore it is that our souls are made, as it were, too big for it; and extend themselves in the prospect of a longer existence, in a good fame, and memory of worthy actions, after our decease. The whole race of men have this passion in some degree implanted in their bosoms, which is the strongest and noblest incitation to honest attempts: but the base use of the arts of peace, eloquence, poetry, and all the parts of learning, have been possessed by souls so unworthy of those faculties, that the names and appellations of things have been confounded by the labours and writings of prostituted men, who have stamped a reputation upon such actions as are in themselves the objects of contempt and disgrace. This is that which has misled your Majesty in the conduct of your reign, and made that life, which might have been the most imitable, the most to be avoided. To this it is, that the great and excellent qualities, of which your Majesty is master, are lost in their application: and your Majesty has been carrying on for many years the most cruel tyranny, with all the noble methods which are used to support a just reign. Thus it is that it avails nothing that you are a bountiful master; that you are so generous as to reward even the unsuccessful with honour and riches; that no laudable action passes unrewarded in your kingdom; that you have searched all nations for obscure merit: in a word, that you are in your private character endowed with every princely quality; when all that is subjected to unjust and ill-taught ambition, which, to the injury of the world, is gilded by those endowments. However if your Majesty will condescend to look into your own soul, and consider all its faculties and weaknesses with impartiality; if you will but be convinced, that life is supported in you by the ordinary methods of food, rest, and sleep; you will think it impossible that you could ever be so much imposed on as to have been wrought into such a belief, that so many thousands of the same make with yourself were formed by Providence for no other end, but, by the hazard of their very being, to extend the conquests and glory of an individual of their own species. very little reflection will convince your Majesty, that such cannot be the intent of the Creator; and, if not, what horror must it give your Majesty to think of the vast devastations your ambition has made among your fellow creatures! While the warmth of youth, the flattery of crowds, and a continual series of success and triumph, indulged your Majesty in this

A

illusion of mind, it was less to be wondered at, that you proceeded in this mistaken pursuit of grandeur; personal distempers, and the reverse of all that makes but when age, disappointments, public calamities, men forget their true being, are fallen upon you; heavens! is it possible you can live without remorse? can the wretched man be a tyrant? can grief study torments? can sorrow be cruel?

'Your Majesty will observe, I do not bring against you a railing accusation; but, as you are a strict professor of religion, I beseech your Majesty to stop the