No. 63.] SATURDAY, MAY 12, 1711.

Humano capiti cervicem pictor equinam
Jungere si velit, et varias inducere plumas,
Undique collatis membris ut turpiter atrum
Desinat in piscem mulier formosa superne;
Spectatum admissi risum teneatis amici?
Credite, Pisones, isti tabulæ fore librum
Persimilem, cujus, velut ægri somnia, vanæ
Fingentur species-HOR., Ars. Poet., ver. 1.
If in a picture, Piso, you should see
A handsome woman with a fish's tail,
Or a man's head upon a horse's neck,

Or limbs of beasts, of the most different kinds,
Cover'd with feathers of all sorts of birds;
Would you not laugh, and think the painter mad?
Trust me, that book is as ridiculous,
Whose incoherent style, like sick men's dreams,
Varies all shapes, and mixes all extremes.

ROSCOMMON.

It is very hard for the mind to disengage itself from a subject on which it has been long employed. The thoughts will be rising of themselves from time to time, though we give them no encouragement; as the tossings and fluctuations of the sea continue several hours after the winds are laid.

It is to this that I impute my last night's dream or vision, which formed into one continued allegory the several schemes of wit, whether false, mixed, or true, that have been the subject of my late papers,

Methought I was transported into a country that was filled with prodigies and enchantments, governed by the goddess of Falsehood, and entitled the Region of False Wit. There was nothing in the fields, the woods, and the rivers, that appeared natural. Several of the trees blossomed in leaf-gold, some of them produced bone-lace, and some of them precious stones. The fountains bubbled in an opera tune, and were filled with stags, wild boars, and mermaids that lived among the waters; at the same time that dolphins and several kinds of fish played upon the banks, or took their pastime in the meadows. The birds had many of them golden beaks and human voices. The flowers perfumed the air with smells of incense, ambergris, and pulvillios; and were so interwoven with one another, that they grew up in pieces of embroidery. The winds were filled with sighs and messages of distant lovers. As I was walking to and fro in this enchanted wilderness, I could not forbear breaking out into soliloquies upon the several wonders which lay before me, when, to my great surprise, I found there were artificial echoes in every walk that, by repetitions of certain words which I spoke, agreed with me, or contradicted me, in everything I said. In the midst of my conversation with these invisible companions, I discovered in the center of a very dark grove a monstrous fabric built after the Gothic manner, and covered with innumerable devices in that barbarous kind of sculpture. I immediately went up to it, and found it to be a kind of heathen temple consecrated to the god of Dullness Upon my entrance I saw the deity of the place dressed in the habit of a monk, with a book in one hand and a rattle in the other. Upon his right hand was Industry, with a lamp burn ing before her; and on his left Caprice, with a monkey sitting on her shoulder. Before his feet there stood an altar of a very odd make, which, as I afterward found was shaped in that manner to comply with the inscription that surrounded it. Upon the altar there lay several offerings of axes, wings, and eggs, cut in paper, and inscribed with verses. The temple was filled with votaries, who applied themselves to different diversions, as

*Pulvillios, sweet scents.

their fancies directed them. In one part of it I saw a regiment of anagrams, who were continually in motion, turning to the right or to the left, facing about, doubling their ranks, shifting their stations, and throwing themselves into all the figures and counter-marches of the most changeable and perplexed exercise.

Not far from these was the body of acrostics, made up of very disproportioned persons. It was disposed into three columns, the officers planting themselves in a line on the left hand of each, column. The officers were all of them at least six feet high, and made three rows of very proper men; but the common soldiers, who filled up the spaces between the officers, were such dwarfs, cripples, and scarecrows, that one could hardly look upon them without laughing. There were behind the acrostics two or three files of chronograms, which differed only from the former as their officers were equipped like the figure of Time) with an hour-glass in one hand and a scythe in the other, and took their posts promiscuously among the private men whom they commanded.

In the body of the temple, and before the very face of the Deity, methought I saw the phantom of Tryphiodorus, the lipogrammatist, engaged in a ball with four-and-twenty persons, who pursued him by turns through all the intricacies and labyrinths of a country dance, without being able to overtake him.

Observing several to be very busy at the western end of the temple, I inquired into what they were doing, and found there was in that quarter the great magazine of rebuses. These were several things of the most different natures tied up in bundles, and thrown upon one another in heaps like fagots. You might behold an anchor, a night-rail, and a hobby-horse, bound up together. One of the workmen seeing me very much surprised, told me there was an infinite deal of wit in several of those bundles, and that he would explain them to me if I pleased; I thanked him for his civility, but told him I was in very great haste at that time. As I was going out of the temple, I observed in one corner of it a cluster of men and women laughing very heartily, and diverting themselves at a game of crambo. I heard several double rhymes as I passed by them, which raised a great deal of mirth.

Not far from these was another set of merry people engaged at a diversion, in which the whole jest was to mistake one person for another. To give occasion for these fudicrous mistakes, they were divided into pairs, every pair being covered from head to foot with the same kind of dress, though perhaps there was not the least resemblance in their faces. By this means an old man was sometimes mistaken for a boy, a woman for a man, and a black-a-moor for a European, which very often produced great peals of laughter. These I guessed to be a party of puns. But being very desirous to get out of this world of magic, which had almost turned my brain, I left the temple, and crossed over the fields that lay about it with all the speed I could make. I was not gone far, before I heard the sound of trumpets and alarms, which seemed to proclaim the march of an enemy; and, as I afterward found, was in reality what I apprehended it. There appeared at a great distance a very shining light, and in the midst of it a person of a most beautiful aspect; her name was Truth. On her right hand there marched a male deity, who bore several quivers on his shoulders, and grasped several arrows in his hand. His name was Wit. The approach of these two enemies filled all the territories of

I must here inform my reader, that the frontiers of the enchanted region which I have before described, were inhabited by a species of Mixed Wit, who made a very odd appearance when they were mustered together in an army. There were men whose bodies were stuck full of darts, and women whose eyes were burning-glasses: men that had hearts of fire, and women that had breasts of snow. It would be endless to describe several monsters of the like nature, that composed this great army; which immediately fell asunder, and divided itself into two parts, the one half throwing themselves behind the banners of Truth, and the other behind those of Falsehood.

The goddess of Falsehood was of a gigantic stature, and advanced some paces before the front of her army; but as the dazzling light which flowed from Truth began to shine upon her, she faded insensibly; insomuch that in a little space, she looked rather like a huge phantom, than a real substance. At length, as the goddess of Truth approached still nearer to her, she fell away entirely, and vanished amidst the brightness of her presence; so that there did not remain the least trace or impression of her figure in the place where she had been seen.

As at the rising of the sun the constellations grow thin, and the stars go out one after another, till the whole hemisphere is extinguished; such was the vanishing of the goddess and not only of the goddess herself, but of the whole army that attended her, which sympathized with their leader, and shrank into nothing, in proportion as the goddess disappeared. At the same time the whole temple sank, the fish betook themselves to the streams and the wild beasts to the woods, the fountains recovered their murmurs, the birds their voices, the trees their leaves, the flowers their scents, and the whole face of nature its true and genuine appearance. Though I still continued asleep, I fancied myself, as it were, awakened out of a dream, when I saw this region of prodigies restored to woods and rivers, fields and meadows.

Upon the removal of that wild scene of wonders, which had very much disturbed my imagination, I took a full survey of the persons of Wit and Truth; for indeed it was impossible to look upon the first, without seeing the other at the same time. There was behind them a strong compact body of figures. The genius of Heroic Poetry appeared with a sword in her hand, and a laurel on her head. Tragedy was crowned with cypress, and covered with robes dipped in blood. Satire had smiles in her look, and a dagger under her garment. Rhetoric was known by her thunderbolt; and Comedy by her mask. After several other figures, Epigram marched up in the rear, who had been posted there at the beginning of the expedition, that he might not revolt to the enemy, whom he was suspected to favor in his heart. I was very much awed and delighted with the appearance of the god of Wit; there was something so amiable, and yet so piercing in his looks, as inspired me at once with love and ter

No. 64.] MONDAY, MAY 14, 171

Hie vivimus ambitiosa
Paupertate omnes- JUV., Sat. iii, 183.
The face of wealth in poverty we wear.

THE most improper things we commit conduct of our lives, we are led into by th of fashion. Instances might be given, in a prevailing custom makes us act against th of nature, law, and common sense; but at I shall confine my consideration to the e has upon men's minds, by looking into our vior when it is the fashion to go into mo The custom of representing the grief we ha the loss of the dead by our habits, certain its rise from the real sorrow of such as w much distressed to take the proper care they of their dress. By degrees it prevailed, tha as had this inward oppression upon their made an apology for not joining with the the world in their ordinary diversions by suited to their condition. This, therefore, first assumed by such only as were und distress; to whom it was a relief that the nothing about them so light and gay as to some to the gloom and melancholy of their reflections, or that might misrepresent th others. In process of time this laudable d tion of the sorrowful was lost, and mouri now worn by heirs and widows. You see n but magnificence and solemnity in the eq of the relict, and an air of release from se in the pomp of a son who has lost a y father. This fashion of sorrow has now a generous part of the ceremonial between and sovereigns, who, in the language of tions, are styled brothers to each other, a on the purple* upon the death of any po with whom they live in amity. Courtiers, who wish themselves such, are immediately with grief from head to foot upon this dis their prince; so that one may know by th buckles of a gentleman-usher, what deg friendship any deceased monarch maintain the court to which he belongs. A good co habit and behavior is hieroglyphical on th casions. He deals much in whispers, a may see he dresses according to the best gence.

The general affectation among men, of ing greater than they are, makes the whole run into the habits of the court. You lady, who the day before was as various as bow, upon the time appointed for begin mourn, as dark as a cloud. This humor d prevail only on those whose fortunes can any change in their equipage, nor on tho whose incomes demand the wantonness appearances; but on such also who ha enough to clothe them. An old acquaint mine, of ninety pounds a year, who has n the vanity of being a man of fashion deep heart, is very much put to it to bear the n of princes. He made a new black suit up death of the King of Spain, he turned it King of Portugal, and he now keeps his c while it is scouring for the Emperor. He i

*Royal and princely mourners are clad in pur

scribes to be very exquisite, for "that she is so pleased with finding Harriet again, that she cannot chide her for being out of the way." This witty daughter and fine lady has so little respect for this good woman, that she ridicules her air in taking leave, and cries, "In what struggle is my poor mother yonder! See, see, her head tottering, her eyes staring, and her under-lip trembling.' But all this is atoned for, because "she has more wit than is usual in her sex, and as much malice, though she is as wild as you could wish her, and has a demureness in her looks that makes it so surprising." Then to recommend her as a fit spouse for his hero, the poet makes her speak her sense of marriage very ingenuously: I think," says she, "I might be brought to endure him, and that is all a reasonable woman should expect in a husband." It is, methinks, unnatural, that we are not made to understand, how she that was bred under a silly, pious old mother, that would never trust her out of her sight, came to be so polite.

It cannot be denied, but that the negligence of everything which engages the attention of the sober and valuable part of mankind, appears very well drawn in this piece. But it is denied, that it is necessary to the character of a fine gentleman, that he should in that manner trample upon all order and decency. As for the character of Dorimant, it is more of a coxcomb than that of Fopling. He says of one of his companions, that a good correspondence between them is their mutual interest. Speaking of that friend, he declares, their being much together "makes the women think the better of his understanding, and judge more favorably of my reputation. It makes him pass upon some for a man of very good sense, and me upon others for a very civil person." This whole celebrated piece is a perfect contradiction to good manners, good sense, and common honesty; and as there is nothing in it but what is built upon the ruin of virtue and innocence, according to the notion of merit in this comedy, I take the shoemaker* to be in reality the fine gentleman of the play: for it seems he is an atheist, if we may depend upon his character as given by the orange-woman, who is herself far from being the lowest in the play. She says of a fine man who is Dorimant's companion, there is not such another heathen in the town, except the shoemaker." His pretension to be the hero of the drama, appears still more in his own description of his way of living with his lady. "There is," says he, "never a man in town lives more like a gentleman with his wife than I do; I never mind her motions; she never inquires. into mine. We speak to one another civilly, hate one another heartily; and because it is vulgar to lie and soak together, we have each of us our several settlebed." That of "soaking together" is as good as if Dorimant had spoken it himself; and I think, since he puts human nature in as ugly a form as the circumstance will bear, and is a staunch unbeliever, he is very much wronged in having no part of the good fortune bestowed in the last act.

"6

To speak plain of this whole work, I think nothing but being lost to a sense of innocence and virtue, can make any one see this comedy, without observing more frequent occasion to move sorrow and indignation, than mirth and laughter. At the same time I allow it to be nature, but it is nature in its utmost corruption and degeneracy.† R.

66

*He also was a real person, and got vast employment by the representation of him in this play.

How could it be otherwise, when the author of this play was Sir George Etheridge, and the character of Dorimant that of Wilmot, Earl of Rochester?

"SIR,

"I take the freedom of asking your ad behalf of a young country kinswoman of who is lately come to town, and under my c her education. She is very pretty, but you imagine how unformed a creature it is. comes to my hands just as nature left he finished, and without any acquired improve When I look on her I often think of the Sauvage mentioned in one of your papers. Mr. Spectator, help me to make her comp the visible graces of speech, and the dun quence of motion; for she is at present a stranger to both. She knows no way to e herself but by her tongue, and that always nify her meaning. Her eyes serve her only with, and she is utterly a foreigner to the la of looks and glances. In this I fancy you help her better than anybody. I have be two months in teaching her to sigh when not concerned, and to smile when she pleased, and am ashamed to own she make or no improvement. Then she is no mor now to walk, than she was to go at a yea By walking, you will easily know I mea regular but easy motion which gives our p so irresistible a grace, as if we moved to and is a kind of disengaged figure; or, if so speak, recitative dancing. But the want I cannot blame in her, for I find she has and means nothing by walking but to chan place. I could pardon too her blushing, knew how to carry herself in it, and if it d manifestly injure her complexion.

(

They tell me you are a person who hav the world, and are a judge of fine breeding; makes me ambitious of some instructions fro for her improvement: which when you have f me with, I shall farther advise with you ab disposal of this fair forester in marriage: for make it no secret to you, that her person an cation are to be her fortune.

"I am, Sir, "Your very humble servan "CELIME SIR, "Being employed by Celimene to make send to you her letter, I make bold to recon the case therein mentioned to your conside because she and I happen to differ a little notions. I, who am a rough man, am afra young girl is in a fair way to be spoiled: the pray, Mr. Spectator, let us have your opin this fine thing called fine breeding; for I am it differs too much from that plain thing good breeding.

"Your most humble serva

The general mistake among us in the edu our children is, that in our daughters we tak