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and barbarous, the good prince only renowned and glorious.
Though men may impose upon themselves wnat they please by their corrupt imaginations, truth will ever keep its station; and as glory is nothing else but the shadow of virtue, it will certainly disappear at the departure of virtue. But how carefully ought the true notions of it to be preserved, and how industrious should we be to encourage any impulses towards it! The Westminster school-boy that said the other day he could not sleep or play for the colours in the hall*, ought to be free from receiving a blow for ever.
But let us consider what is truly glorious according to the author I have to-day quoted in the front of my paper.
The perfection of glory, says Tully, consists in these three particulars : That the people love us; that they have confidence in us; that, being affected with a certain admiration towards us, they think we deserve honour.' This was spoken of greatness in the commonwealth. But if one were to form a notion of consummate glory under our constitution, one must add to the above-mentioned felicities, a certain necessary inexistence, and disrelish of all the rest, without the prince's favour. He should, methinks, have riches, power, honour, command, glory; but riches, power, honour, command and glory should have no charms, but as accompanied with the affection of his prince. He should, methinks, be popular because a favourite, and a fa. vourite because popular. Were it not to make the character too imaginary, I would give him sovereignty over some foreign territory, and make him esteem that an empty addition without the kind regards of his own prince. One may merely have an idea of a man thus composed and circumstantiated; and if he were so made for
..* The colours taken by Marlborough, at the battle of Hochstet, og Blepheim, August 2, 1704, were hung up in Westnjuster-hall.
city of giving jealousy, he would be also glorious without possibility of receiving disgrace. This humility and this importance must make his glory immortal.
These thoughts are apt to draw me beyond the usual length of this paper; but if I could suppose such rhapsodies could outlive the common fate of ordinary things, I would say these sketches and faint images of glory were drawn in August, 1711, when Jolin duke of Marlborough made that memorable march wherein he took the French lines without bloodshed.
N° 140. FRIDAY, AUGUST 10, 1711.
-Animum nunc huc celerem, nunc dividit illuc.
VIRG. Æn. iv. ver. 285. This
way and that he turns his anxious mind.
, other letters not yet acknowledged, I believe he will own, what I have a mind he should believe, that I have no small charge upon me, but am a person of some consequence in this world. I shall therefore employ the present hour only in reading petitions, in the order as follows:
MR. SPECTATOR, I have lost so much time already, that I desire upon the receipt hereof, you will sit down immediately, and give me your answer. And I would know of you whether a pretender of mine really loves me. As well as I can, I will describe his man
When he sees me, he is always talking of constancy, but vouchsafes to visit me but once a fortnight, and then is always in haste to be gone.
When I am sick, I hear he says he is miglotily con
Í cerned, but neither comes nor sends, because, as he tells his acquaintance with a sigh, he does not care to let me know all the power I have over him, and how impossible it is for him to live without me. When he leaves the town, he writes once in six weeks, desires to hear from me, complains of the torment of absence, speaks of flames, tortures, languishings and extacies. He has the cant of an
. impatient lover, but keeps the pace of a lukewarm
You know I must not go faster than he does, and to move at this rate is as tedious as counting a great clock. But you are to know he is rich ; and my mother says, as he is slow he is sure; he will love me long, if he loves me little: but I appeal to you whether he loves at all.
• Your neglected humble servant,
All these fellows who have money are extremely saucy and cold; pray, Sir, tell them of it.'
MR. SPECTATOR, " I have been delighted with nothing more through the whole course of your writings, than the substantial account you lately gave of wit, and I could wish you would take some other opportunity to express further the corrupt taste the age is run into; w
which I am chiefly apt to attribute to the prevalency of a few popular authors, whose merit in some respects has given a sanction to their faults in others. Thus the imitators of Milton seem to place all the excellency of that sort of writing either in the uncouth or antique words, or something else which was highly vicious, though pardonable, in that great man. 'I'he admirers of what we call point, or turn, look upon it as the particular happiness to whch Cow. ley, Ovid, and others, owe their reputation, and therefore imitate them only in such instances. What is just, proper, and natural, does not seem to be the question with them, but hy what means a quaint antithesis may be brought about, how one word may be made to look two ways, and what will be the consequence of a forced allusion. Now, though such authors appear to me to resemble those who make themselves fine, instead of being well-dressed, or graceful; yet the mischief is, that these beauties in them, which I call blemishes, are thought to proceed from luxuriance of fancy, and overflowing of good sense. In one word, they bave the character of being too witty; but if you would acquaint the world they are not witty at all, you would, among many other's, oblige,
I-AM a young woman,
and reckoned pretty ; therefore you will pardon me that I trouble you to decide a wager between me and a cousin of mine, who is always contradicting one because he understands Latin : pray, Sir, is Dimple spelt with a single or a double P?
"I am, sir,
Pray, Sir, direct thus, “To the kind Querist," and leave it at Mr. Lillie's, for I do not care to be known in the thing at all. I am, sir, again, your humble servant.'
MR. SPECTATOR, • I Must needs tell you there are several of your papers I do not much like. You are often so nice, there is no enduring you; and so learned, there is no understanding you. What have you to do with our petticoats?
"Your huinble servant,
MR. SPECTATOR, Last night as I was walking in the Park, I met a couple of friends. Pr'ythee, Jack," says one of them, “ let us go drink a glass of wine, for I am fit for nothing else.” This put me upon reflecting on the many miscarriages which happen in conversations over wine, when men go to the bottle to remove such humours as it only stirs up and awakens. This I could not attribute more to any thing than to the humour of putting company upon others which men do not like themselves. Pray, Sir, declare in your papers, that he who is a troublesome companion to himself, will not be an agreeable one to others. Let people reason themselves into good humour, before they impose themselves upon their friends. Pray, Sir, be as eloquent as you can upon this subject; and do human life so much good, as to argue powerfully, that it is not every one that can swallow, who is fit to drink a glass of wine.
" Your most humble servant.'
"I This morning cast my eye upon your paper concerning the expence of time. You are very obliging to the women, especially those who are not young and past gallantry, by touching so gently upon gaming : therefore I hope you do not think it wrong to employ a little leisure time in that diversion; but I should be glad to hear you say something upon the behaviour of some of the female gamesters.
“I have observed ladies, who in all other respects are gentle, good-humoured, and the very pink of good-breeding; who, as soon as the ombre-table is called for, and sit down to their business, are immediately transmigrated into the vériest wasps in nature.
" You must know I keep my temper, and win their
money ; but am out of countenance to take it, it makes them so very uneasy;
Be pleased, dear Sir, to instruct them to lose with a better grace, and you will oblige, your's,