of severity, and, with the known old story in his
head, assured them they need not scruple to be-
lieve that the fear of anything can make a man's
hair gray, since he knew one whose periwig had
suffered so by it. Thus he stopped the talk, and
made them easy. Thus is the same method taken
to bring us to shame, which we fondly take to in-
crease our character. It is indeed a kind of mim-
icry, by which another puts on our air of conver-
sation to show us to ourselves. He seems to look
ridiculous before, that you may remember how
near a resemblance you bear to him, or that you
may know he will not lie under the imputation of
believing you. Then it is that you are struck
dumb immediately with a conscientious shame for
what you have been saying. Then it is that you
are inwardly grieved at the sentiments which you
cannot but perceive others entertain concerning
you. In short, you are against yourself; the
laugh of the company runs against you; the cen-
suring world is obliged to you for that triumph
which you have allowed them at your own expense;
and truth, which you have injured, has a near way
of being revenged on you, when by the bare repe-
tition of your story you become a frequent diver-
sion for the public.
"MR. SPECTATOR,

"The other day, walking in Pancras churchyard, I thought of your paper wherein you men tion epitaphs, and am of opinion this has a thought in it worth being communicated to your readers:

Here innocence and beauty lies, whose breath
Was snatch'd by early, not untimely, death.
Hence she did go, just as she did begin
Sorrow to know, before she knew to sin.

Death, that does sin and sorrow thus prevent,
Is the next blessing to a life well spent.

"I am, Sir, your Servant."

I have a ruddy, heedless look, which covers arti-
fice the best of anything. Though I can dance
very well, I affect a tottering untaught way of
walking, by which I appear an easy prey and
never exert my instructed charms, until I find I
have engaged a pursuer. Be pleased, Sir, to print
this letter, which will certainly begin the chase of
a rich widow. The many foldings, escapes, re-
turns, and doublings, which I make, I shall from
time to time communicate to you, for the better
instruction of all females, who set up, like me, for
reducing the present exorbitant power and inso-
lence of man.
"I am, Sir,

"Your faithful Correspondent,
"RELICTA LOVELY."

"DEAR MR. SPECTATOR,

"I depend upon your professed respect for virtuous love for your immediately answering the design of this letter; which is no other than to lay before the world the severity of certain parents, who desire to suspend the marriage of a discreet young woman of eighteen three years longer, for no other reason but that of her being too young to enter into that state. As to the consideration of riches, my circumstances are such, that I cannot such low motives as avarice or ambition. If ever be suspected to make my addresses to her on innocence, wit, and beauty, united their utmost charms, they have in her. I wish you would expatiate a little on this subject, and admonish her parents that it may be from the very imperfection of human nature itself, and not any personal frailty of her or me, that our inclinations, baffled at present, may alter; and while we are arguing with ourselves to put off the enjoyment of our present passions, our affections may change their objects in the operation. It is a very delicate subject to talk upon; but if it were but hinted, I am in hopes it would give the parties concerned some reffec

No. 539.] TUESDAY, NOVEMBER, 18, 1712. tion that might expedite our happiness. There

Heteroclita sunto.-QUE GENUS.

Be they heteroclites.

"MR. SPECTATOR,

"I AM a young widow of a good fortune and family, and just come to town; where I find I have clusters of pretty fellows come already to visit me, some dying with hopes, others with fears, though they never saw me. Now, what I would beg of you would be to know whether I may venture to use these pert fellows with the same freedom as I did my country acquaintance. I desire your leave to use them as to me shall seem meet, without imputation of a jilt: for since I

make declaration that not one of them shall have me, I think I ought to be allowed the liberty of insulting those who have the vanity to believe it is in their power to make me break that resolution. There are schools for learning to use foils, frequented by those who never design to fight; and this useless way of aiming at the heart, without design to wound it on either side, is the play with which I am resolved to divert myself. The man who pretends to win, I shall use like him who comes into a fencing-school to pick a quarrel. I hope upon this foundation you will give me the free use of the natural and artificial force of my eyes, looks, and gestures. As for verbal promises, I will make none, but shall have no mercy on the conceited interpreters of glances and motions. I am particularly skilled in the downcast eye, and the recovery into a sudden full aspect and away again, as you may have seen sometimes practiced by us country beauties beyond all that you have observed in courts and cities. Add to this Sir, that

is a possibility, and I hope I may say it without imputation of immodesty to her I love with the highest honor: I say there is a possibility this delay may be as painful to her as it is to me; if it be as much, it must be more, by reason of the severe rules the sex are under, in being denied even the relief of complaint. If you oblige me in this, and I succeed, I promise you a place at my wedding, and a treatment suitable to your spectatorial dig nity.

"SIR,

"Your most humble Servant,

" EUSTACE."

"I yesterday heard a young gentleman, that looked as if he was just come to the gown and a scarf, upon evil speaking: which subject, you know Archbishop Tillotson has so nobly handled in a sermon in his folio. As soon as ever he had named his text, and had opened a little the drift of his discourse, I was in great hopes he had been one of Sir Roger's chaplains. I have conceived so great an idea of the charming discourse above, that I should have thought one part of my Sabbath very well spent in hearing a repetition of it. But, alas! Mr. Spectator, this reverend divine gave us his grace's sermon, and yet I do not know how; even I, that I am sure have read it at least twenty times, could not tell what to make of it, and was at a loss sometimes to guess what the man aimed at. He was so just, indeed, as to give us all the heads and the subdivisions of the sermon, and further I think there was not one beautiful thought in it but what we had. But then, Sir, this gentleman made so many pretty additions; and

"THERE is no part of your writings which I have in more esteem than your criticism upon Milton. It is an honorable and candid endeavor to set the works of our noble writers in the graceful light which they deserve. You will lose much of my kind inclination toward you, if you do not attempt the encomium of Spenser also, or at least indulge my passion for that charming author so Care and his house are described thus, iv. 6, 33–35.

No. 541.] THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 20, 1712. raised, and hurrying sound. The passionate char

For, in that sleep of death, what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause-There's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life;

For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
Th' oppressor's wrongs, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despis'd love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear,
To groan and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscover'd country, from whose bourne
No traveler returns, puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of.

As all these varieties of voice are to be directed by the sense, so the action is to be directed by the voice, and with a beautiful propriety, as it were, to enforce it. The arm, which by a strong figure Tully calls the orator's weapon, is to be sometimes raised and extended; and the hand, by its motion, sometimes to lead, and sometimes to follow, the words as they are uttered. The stamping of the foot, too, has its proper expression in contention, anger, or absolute command. But the face is the epitome of the whole man, and the eyes are as it were the epitome of the face; for which reason, he says, the best judges among the Romans were not extremely pleased even with Roscius himself in his mask. No part of the body, beside the face, is capable of as many changes as there are different emotions in the mind, and of expressing them all by those changes. Nor is this to be done without the freedom of the eyes; therefore Theophrastus called one, who barely rehearsed his speech with his eyes fixed, an "absent actor."

through all the variety of tones naturally, and without touching any extreme. Therefore," says he, "leave the pipe at home, but carry the sense of this custom with you."

No. 542.] FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 21, 1712.
Et sibi præferri se gaudet-
OVID, Met. ii. 430.

He heard,

Well pleas'd, himself before himself preferr'd.-ADDEROS. WHEN I have been present in assemblies, where my paper has been talked of, I have been very well pleased to hear those who would detract from the author of it observe, that the letters which are sent to the Spectator are as good, if not better, than any of his works. Upon this occasion many letters of mirth are usually mentioned, which some think the Spectator wrote to himself, and which others commend because they fancy he received them from his correspondents. Such are those from the valetudinarian; the inspector of the signposts; the master of the fan exercise; with that of the hooped petticoat; that of Nicholas Hart the annual sleeper; that from Sir John Envil; that upon the London Cries; with multitudes of the same nature. As I love nothing more than o mortify the ill-natured, that I may do it effectually, I must acquaint them they have very often praised me when they did not design it, and that they have approved my writings when they thought they had derogated from them. I have heard sev eral of these unhappy gentlemen proving, by undeniable arguments, that I was not able to pen a As the countenance admits of so great variety, letter which I had written the day before. Nay, 1 it requires also great judgment to govern it. Not have heard some of them throwing out ambigcous that the form of the face is to be shifted on every expressions, and giving the company reason to occasion, lest it turn to farce and buffoonery; but it suspect that they themselves did me the honor to is certain that the eyes have a wonderful power send me such and such a particular epistle, which of marking the emotions of the mind; sometimes happened to be talked of with the esteem or apby a steadfast look, sometimes by a careless one- probation of those who were present. These rigid now by a sudden regard, then by a joyful spark- critics are so afraid of allowing me anything which ling, as the sense of the words is diversified; for does not belong to me, that they will not be pos action is, as it were, the speech of the features and tive whether the lion, the wild boar, and the flowerlimbs, and must therefore conform itself always to pots in the play-house, did not actually wr the sentiments of the soul. And it may be ob- those letters which came to me in their names. I served, that in all which relates to the gesture there must therefore inform these gentlemen, that I often is a wonderful force implanted by nature; since choose this way of casting my thoughts int the vulgar, the unskillful, and even the most bar-letter, for the following reasons: First, out of the barous, are chiefly affected by this. None are moved by the sound of words but those who understand the language; and the sense of many things is lost upon men of a dull apprehension; but action is a kind of universal tongue; all men are subject to the same passions, and consequently know the same marks of them in others, by which they themselves express them.

Perhaps some of my readers may be of opinion that the hints I have here made use of out of Cicero are somewhat too refined for the players on our theater; in answer to which I venture to lay it down as a maxim, that without good sense no one can be a good player, and that he is very unfit to personate the dignity of a Roman hero who cannot enter into the rules for pronunciation and gesture delivered by a Roman orator.

There is another thing which my author does not think too minute to insist on, though it is purely mechanical; and that is the right pitching of the voice. On this occasion he tells the story of Gracchus, who employed a servant with a little ivory pipe to stand behind him, and give him the right pitch, as often as he wandered too far from the proper modulation. "Every voice," says Tully, has its peculiar medium and compass, and the sweetness of speech consists in leading it

policy of those who try their jest upon another, before they own it theniselves. Secondly, becaus I would extort a little praise from such who w never applaud anything whose author is known and certain. Thirdly, because it gave me an op portunity of introducing a great variety of ch acters into my work, which could not have been done had I always written in the person of the Spectator. Fourthly, because the dignity spanatorial would have suffered had I published as f myself those several ludicrous compositions whic I have ascribed to fictitious names and charact And lastly, because they often serve to bring i more naturally such additional reflections as here been placed at the end of them.

There are others who have likewise done se very particular honor, though undesignedly. The are such who will needs have it that I have tre lated or borrowed many of my thoughts cei d books which are written in other languages have heard of a person, who is more fauoc tươ his library than his learning, that has assered 24 more than once in his private conversation.

*The person here alluded to was most probably mas Rawlison, ridiculed by Addison under the rage Folio, in the Tatler, No. 168.

it true, I am sure he could not speak it from his own | ject; and question not, if you do not give us the knowledge; but, had he read the books which he slip very suddenly, that you will receive addresses has collected, he would find his accusation to be from all parts of the kingdom to continue so usewholly groundless. Those who are truly learned ful a work. Pray deliver us out of this perplexity; will acquit me in this point, in which I have been and, among the multitude of your readers, you so far from offending, that I have been scrupulous, will particularly oblige perhaps to a fault, in quoting the authors of several passages which I might have made my own. But, as this assertion is in reality an encomium on what I have published, I ought rather to glory in it than endeavor to confute it.

0.

"Your most sincere Friend and Servant,
"PHILO-SPEC."

Facies non omnibus una,
Nec diversa tamen- OVID, Met. ii. 12.
Similar, though not the same.————

Some are so very willing to alienate from me No. 543.] SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 22, 1712. that small reputation which might accrue to me from any of these my speculations, that they attribute some of the best of them to those imaginary manuscripts with which I have introduced them. There are others, I must confess, whose objections have given me a greater concern, as they seem to reflect, under this head, rather on my morality than on my invention. These are they who say an author is guilty of falsehood, when he talks to the public of manuscripts which he never saw, or describes scenes of action or discourse in which he was never engaged. But these gentlemen would do well to consider, there is not a fable or parable, which ever was made use of, that is not liable to this exception; since nothing, according to this notion, can be related innocently, which was not once matter of fact. Beside, I think the most ordinary reader may be able to discover, by my way of writing, what I deliver in these occurrences as truth, and what as fiction.⚫

Since I am unawares engaged in answering the several objections which have been made against these my works, I must take notice that there are some who affirm a paper of this nature should always turn upon diverting subjects, and others who find fault with every one of them that hath not an immediate tendency to the advancement of religion or learning. I shall leave these gentlemen to dispute it among themselves; since I see one half my conduct patronized by each side. Were I serious on an improper subject, or trifling in a serious one, I should deservedly draw upon me the censure of my readers; or, were I conscious of anything in my writings that is not innocent at least, or that the greatest part of them were not sincerely designed to discountenance vice and ignorance, and support the interest of truth, wisdom, and virtue, I should be more severe upon myself than the public is disposed to be. In the meanwhile I desire my reader to consider every particpaper or discourse as a distinct tract by itself, and independent of everything that goes before or

ular

after it.

I shall end this paper with the following letter, which was really sent me, as some others have been which I have published, and for which I must own myself indebted to their respective writers: "SIR,

THOSE who were skillful in anatomy, among the ancients, concluded, from the outward and inward make of a human body, that it was the work of a Being transcendently wise and powerful. As the world grew more enlightened in this art, their discoveries gave them fresh opportunities of admiring the conduct of Providence in the formation of a human body. Galen was converted by his dissections, and could not but own a Supreme Being upon a survey of this his handy-work. There were, indeed, many parts, of which the old anatomists did not know the certain use; but, as they saw that most of these which they examined were adapted with admirable art to their several functions, they did not question but those, whose use they could not determine, were contrived with the same wisdom for respective ends and purposes. Since the circulation of the blood has been found out, and many other great discoveries have been made by our modern anatomists, we see new wonders in the human frame, and discern several important uses for those parts, which uses the ancients knew nothing of. In short, the body of man is such a subject as stands the utmost test of examination. Though it appears formed with the nicest wisdom, upon the most superficial survey of it, it still mends upon the search, and produces our surprise and amazement in proportion as we pry into it. What I have here said of a human body may be applied to the body of every animal which has been the subject of anatomical observations.

The body of an animal is an object adequate to our senses. It is a particular system of Providence that lies in a narrow compass. The eye is able to command it, and by successive inquiriescan search into all its parts. Could the body of the whole earth, or indeed the whole universe, be thus submitted to the examination of our senses, were it not too big and disproportioned for our inquiries, too unwieldy for the management of the eye and hand, there is no question but it would appear to us as curious and well contrived a frame as that of a human body. We should see the same concatenation and subserviency, the same necessity and usefulness, the same beauty and harmony, in "I was this morning in a company of your well-all and every of its parts, as what we discover wishers, when we read over, with great satisfac- in the body of every single animal. sion, Tully's observation on action adapted to the The more extended our reason is, and the more British theater; though, by the way, we were very able to grapple with immense objects, the greater sorry to find that you have disposed of another still are those discoveries which it makes of wismember of your club. Poor Sir Roger is dead, dom and providence in the works of the creation. and the worthy clergyman dying; Captain Sentry A Sir Isaac Newton, who stands up as the miracle has taken possession of a good estate; Will Hon- of the present age, can look through a whole planeycomb has married a farmer's daughter; and the etary system; consider it in its weight, number, Templar withdraws himself into the business of and measure; and draw from it as many demonhis own profession. What will all this end in?strations of infinite power and wisdom, as a more We are afraid it portends no good to the public. confined understanding is able to deduce from the Unless you very speedily fix the day for the elec- system of a human body. tion of new members, we are under apprehensions of losing the British Spectator. I hear of a party of ladies who intend to address you on this sub

But to return to our speculations on anatomy, I shall here consider the fabric and texture of the bodies of animals in one particular view; which,