mark them with comparison of their beauty, They now no longer enjoyed the ease of mind and pleasing indolence in which they were formerly happy, but all their words and actions were misinterpreted by each other, and every excellence in their speech and behavior was looked upon as an act of emulation to surpass the other. These beginnings of disinclination soon improved into a formality of behavior, a general coldness, and by natural steps into an irreconcilable hatred. These two rivals for the reputation of beauty, were, in their stature, countenance, and mien, so very much alike, that if you were speaking of them in their absence, the words in which you described the one must give you an idea of the other. They were hardly distinguishable, you would think, when they were apart, though extremely different when together. What made their enmity the more entertaining to all the rest of their sex was, that in detraction from each, neither could fall upon any terms which did not hit herself as much as her adversary. Their nights grew restless with meditation of new dresses to outvie each other, and inventing new devices to recall admirers, who observed the charms of the one rather than those of the other, on the last meeting. Their colors failed at each other's appearance, flushed with pleasure at the report of a disadvantage, and their countenances withered upon instances of applause. The decencies to which women are obliged, made these virgins stifle their resentment so far as not to break into open violences, while they equally suffered the torments of a regulated anger. Their mothers, as it is usual, engaged in the quarrel, and supported the several pretensions of their daughters with all that ill-chosen sort of expense which is common with people of plentiful fortunes and mean taste. The girls preceded their parents like queens of May, in all the gaudy colors imaginable, on every Sunday to church, and were exposed to the examination of the audience for superiority of beauty. During this constant struggle it happened, that Phillis one day at public prayers smote the heart of a gay West Indian, who appeared in all the colors which can affect an eye that could not distinguish between being fine and tawdry. This American, in a Summer-island suit, was too shining and too gay to be resisted by Phillis, and too intent upon her charms to be diverted by any of the labored attractions of Brunetta. Soon after, Brunetta had the mortification to see her rival disposed of in a wealthy marriage, while she was only addressed to in a manner that showed she was the admiration of all men, but the choice of none. Phillis was carried to the habitation of her spouse in Barbadoes. Brunetta had the ill-nature to inquire for her by every opportunity, and had the misfortune to hear of her being attended by numerous slaves, fanned into slumbers by successive bands of them, and carried from place to place in all the pomp of barbarous magnificence. Brunetta could not endure these repeated advices, but employed all her arts and charms in laying baits for any of condition of the same island, out of a mere ambition to confront her once more before she died. She at last succeeded in her design, and was taken to wife by a gentleman whose estate was contiguous to that of her enemy's husband. It would be endless to enumerate the many occasions on which these irreconcilable beauties labored to excel each other; but in process of time it happened, that a ship put into the island consigned to a friend of Phillis, who had directions to give her the refusal of all goods for apparel, before Brunetta could be alarmed of their arrival. He did so, and Phillis was dressed in a few days in a brocade more gorgeous and costly than had ever before appeared in that latitude. Brunetta languished at the sight, and could by no means come up to the bravery of her antagonist. She communicated her anguish of mind to a faithful friend, who, by an interest in the wife of Phillis's merchant, procured a remnant of the same silk for Brunetta. Phillis took pains to appear in all public places where she was sure to meet Brunetta; Brunetta was now prepared for the insult, and came to a public ball in a plain black silk mantua, attended by a beautiful negro girl in a petticoat of the same brocade with which Phillis was attired. This drew the attention of the whole company, upon which the unhappy Phillis swooned away, and was immediately conveyed to her house. As soon as she came to herself, she fled from her husband's house, went on board a ship in the road, and is now landed in inconsolable despair at Plymouth. POSTSCRIPT. After the above melancholy narration, it may perhaps be a relief to the reader to peruse the following expostulation: "To MR. SPECTATOR, "The just Remonstrance of affronted THAT. "THOUGH I deny not the petition of Mess. WHO and WHICH, yet you should not suffer them to be rude, and to call honest people names: for that bears very hard on some of those rules of decency which you are justly famous for establishing. They may find fault, and correct speeches in the senate and at the bar, but let them try to get themselves so often, and with so much eloquence, repeated in a sentence, as a great orator doth frequently introduce me. "My lords!' says he, with humble submission, That That I say is this; That, That That gentleman has advanced, is not That That he should have proved to your lordships.' Let these two questionary petitioners try to do thus with their Whos and their Whiches." "What great advantange was I of to Mr. Dryden in his Indian Emperor, 'You force me still to answer you in That' to furnish out a rhyme to Morat? and what a poor figure would Mr. Bayes have made without his Egad and all That? How can a judicious man distinguish one thing from another, without saying, This here,' or That there?' And how can a sober man, without using the expletives of oaths (in which indeed the rakes and bullies have a great advantage over others), make a discourse of any tolerable length, without That is; and if he' be a very grave man indeed, without That is to say?' And how instructive as well as entertaining are those usual expressions in the mouths of great men, 'Such things as That,' and 'The like of That.' "I am not against reforming the corruptions of speech you mention, and own there are proper seasons for the introduction of other words beside That; but I scorn as much to supply the place of a Who or a Which at every turn, as they are unequal always to fill mine; and I expect good language and civil treatment, and hope to receive it for the future: That, That I shall only add is, That I am, "Yours, R. "THAT." No. 81. SATURDAY, JUNE 2, 1711. Qualis ubi audito venantum murmure tigris ABOUT the middle of last winter I went to see an opera at the theater in the Hay-market, where I could not but take notice of two parties of very fine women, that had placed themselves in the opposite side-boxes, and seemed drawn up in a kind of battle array one against another. After a short survey of them, I found they were patched differently; the faces on one hand being spotted on the right side of the forehead, and those upon the other on the left. I quickly perceived that they cast hostile glances upon one another; and that their patches were placed in those different situations, as party-signals to distinguish friends from foes. In the middle-boxes, between these two opposite bodies, were several ladies who patched indifferently on both sides of their faces, and seemed to sit there with no other intention but to see the opera. Upon inquiry I found that the body of Amazons on my right hand were whigs, and those on my left tories; and that those who had placed themselves in the middle boxes were a neutral party, whose faces had not yet declared themselves. These last, however, as I afterward found, diminished daily, and took their party with one side or the other; insomuch that I observed, in several of them, the patches which were before dispersed equally, are now all gone over to the whig or tory side of the face. The censorious say, that the men, whose hearts are aimed at, are very often the occasions that one part of the face is thus dishonored, and lies under a kind of disgrace, while the other is so much set off and adorned by the owner: and that the patches turn to the right or to the left, according to the principles of the man who is most in favor. But whatever may be the motives of a few fantastical coquettes, who do not patch for the public good so much as for their own private advantage, it is certain, that there are several women of honor who patch out of principle, and with an eye to the interest of their country.-Nay, I am informed that some of them adhere so steadfastly to their party, and are so far from sacrificing their zeal for the public to their passion for any particular person, that, in a late draught of marriage articles, a lady has stipulated with her husband, that whatever his opinions are, she shall be at liberty to patch on which side she pleases. I must here take notice, that Rosalinda, a famous whig partisan, has most unfortunately a very beautiful mole on the tory part of her forehead; which being very conspicuous, has occasioned many mistakes, and given a handle to her enemies to misrepresent her face, as though it had revolted from the whig interest. But, whatever this natural patch may seem to insinuate, it is well known that her notions of government are still the same. This unlucky mole, however, has misled several coxcombs; and, like the hanging out of false colors, made some of them converse with Rosalinda in what they thought the spirit of her party, when on a sudden she has given them an unexpected fire, that has sunk them all at once. If Rosalinda is unfortunate in her mole, Nigranilla is as unhappy in a pimple, which forces her, against her inclinations, to patch on the whig side. I am told that many virtuous matrons, who formerly have been taught to believe that this artificial spotting of the face was unlawful, are now reconciled by a zeal for their cause, to what they could not be prompted to by a concern for their beauty. This way of declaring war upon another, puts me in mind of what is reporte the tigress-that several spots rise in her when she is angry, or, as Mr. Cowley has imi the verses that stand as the motto of this pap She swells with angry pride, And calls forth all her spots on every side.* When I was in the theater the time abovetioned, I had the curiosity to count the pa on both sides, and found the tory patches about twenty stronger than the whig; but to amends for this small inequality, I the next r ing found the whole puppet-show filled with spotted after the whiggish manner. Wheth no the ladies had retreated hither in order to their forces I cannot tell; but the next night| came in so great a body to the opera, that outnumbered the enemy. This account of party-patches will, I am a appear improbable to those who live at a dis from the fashionable world; but as it is a tinction of a very singular nature, and what haps may never meet with a parallel, I th should not have discharged the office of a fa Spectator, had not I recorded it. I have, in former papers, endeavored to e this party-rage in women, as it only serves t gravate the hatreds and animosities that among men, and in a great measure deprive fair sex of those peculiar charms with which ture has endowed them. When the Romans and Sabines were at war just upon the point of giving battle, the wo who were allied to both of them, interposed so many tears and entreaties, that they prev the mutual slaughter which threatened both ties, and united them together in a firm and ing peace. I would recommend this noble example t British ladies, at a time when their country i with so many unnatural divisions, that if continue, it will be a misfortune to be born The Greeks thought it so improper for wom interest themselves in competitions and co tions, that for this reason, among others, the bade them, under pain of death, to be prese the Olympic games, notwithstanding these the public diversions of all Greece. As our English women exceed those of al tions in beauty, they should endeavor to out them in all other accomplishments proper t sex, and to distinguish themselves as t mothers and faithful wives, rather than as fu partisans. Female virtues are of a domestic The family is the proper province for p women to shine in. If they must be sho their zeal for the public, let it not be against who are perhaps of the same family, or at lea the same religion or nation, but against thos are the open, professed, undoubted enemi their faith, liberty, and country. When the mans were pressed with a foreign enemy ladies voluntarily contributed all their ring jewels to assist the government under a I exigence, which appeared so laudable an acti the eyes of their countrymen, that from th forth it was permitted by a law to pronounce lic orations at the funeral of a woman in I of the deceased person, which till that tim peculiar to men. Would our English ladie stead of sticking on a patch against those of own country, show themselves so truly p spirited as to sacrifice every one her nec against the common enemy, what decrees not to be made in favor of them? *Davideis, Book III, page 409, Vol. II, 1710. No. 82.] MONDAY, JUNE 4, 1711. Since I am recollecting upon this subject such and humors, with the pains they both take for the passages as occur to my memory out of ancient accomplishment of the ends mentioned in the authors, I cannot omit a sentence in the celebrated above verses of Denham,* I cannot much wonder funeral oration of Pericles, which he made in at the endeavor after gain, but am extremely ashonor of those brave Athenians that were slain tonished that men can be so insensible of the danin a fight with the Lacedæmonians. After hav-ger of running into debt. One would think it ing addressed himself to the several ranks and impossible that a man who is given to contract orders of his countrymen, and shown them how debts should not know, that his creditor has, they should behave themselves in his public from that moment in which he transgresses paycause, he turns to the female part of the audi- ment, so much as that demand comes to, in his ence: "And as for you," says he, "I shall advise debtor's honor, liberty, and fortune. One would you in very few words. Aspire only to those think he did not know that his creditor can say virtues that are peculiar to your sex; follow your the worst thing imaginable of him, to-wit, "That natural modesty, and think it your greatest com- he is unjust," without defamation; and can seize mendation not to be talked of one way or other." his person, without being guilty of an assault. C. Yet such is the loose and abandoned turn of some men's minds, that they can live under these constant apprehensions, and still go on to increase the cause of them. Can there be a more low and servile condition, than to be ashamed or afraid to Juv., Sat. iii, 33. see any one man breathing? Yet he that is much in debt, is in that condition with relation to twenty His fortune ruin'd, and himself a slave. different people. There are indeed circumstances PASSING under Ludgate+ the other day, I heard a wherein men of honest natures may become liable voice brawling for charity, which I thought I had to debts, by some unadvised behavior in any great somewhere heard before. Coming near to the grate, point of their life, or mortgaging a man's honesty the prisoner called me by my name, and desired as a security for that of another, and the like; but I would throw something into the box; I was out these instances are so particular and circumstanof countenance for him, and did as he bid me, by tiated, that they cannot come within general conputting in half-a-crown. I went away, reflect-siderations. For one such case as one of these, ing upon the strange constitution of some men, there are ten where a man, to keep up a farce of and how meanly they behave themselves in all retinue and grandeur within his own house, shall sorts of conditions. The person who begged of shrink at the expectation of surly demands at his me is now, I take it, fifty: I was well acquainted doors. The debtor is the creditor's criminal; and with him till about the age of twenty-five; at all the officers of power and state, whom we behold which time a good estate fell to him by the death make so great a figure, are no other than so many of a relation. Upon coming to this unexpected persons in authority to make good his charge good fortune, he ran into all the extravagances against him. Human society depends upon his imaginable; was frequently in drunken disputes, having the vengeance law allots him; and the broke drawers' heads, talked and swore loud, was debtor owes his liberty to his neighbor, as much unmannerly to those above, and insolent to those as the murderer does his life to his prince. below him. I could not but remark, that it was Our gentry are, generally speaking, in debt; the same baseness of spirit which worked in his and many families have put it into a kind of behavior in both fortunes: the same little mind method of being so from generation to generation. was insolent in riches, and shameless in poverty. The father mortgages when his son is very young; This accident made me muse upon the circum- and the boy is to marry, as soon as he is at age, stance of being in debt in general, and solve in to redeem it and find portions for his sisters. my mind what tempers were most apt to fall into This, forsooth, is no great inconvenience to him; this error of life, as well as the misfortune it must for he may wench, keep a public table, or feed needs be to languish under such pressures. As dogs, like a worthy English gentleman, till he for myself, my natural aversion to that sort of has out-run half his estate, and leave the same conversation which makes a figure with the gene-incumbrance upon his first-born, and so on; till rality of mankind, exempts me from any tempta- one man of more vigor than ordinary goes quite tions to expense; and all my business lies within through the estate, or some man of sense comes a very narrow compass, which is only to give an into it, and scorns to have an estate in partnerhonest man who takes care of my estate, proper ship, that is to say, liable to the demand or insult Vouchers for his quarterly payments to me, and of any man living. There is my friend Sir Anobserve what linen my laundress brings and takes drew, though for many years a great and general away with her once a week. My steward brings trader, was never the defendant in a law-suit, in his receipt ready for my signing; and I have a all the perplexity of business, and the iniquity of pretty implement with the respective names of mankind at present; no one had any color for the shirts, cravats, handkerchiefs, and stockings, with least complaint against his dealings with him. proper numbers, to know how to reckon with my This is certainly as uncommon, and in its proporlaundress. This being almost all the business I tion as laudable in a citizen, as it is in a general have in the world for the care of my own affairs, never to have suffered a disadvantage in fight. I am at full leisure to observe upon what others How different from this gentleman is Jack Truedo with relation to their equipage and economy. penny, who has been an old acquaintance of Sir When I walk the street and observe the hurry Andrew and myself from boys, but could never about me in this town, learn our caution. Jack has a whorish, unresisting good-nature, which makes him incapable of having a property in anything. His fortune, his man's service that comes first. When he was at reputation, his time, and his capacity, are at any school he was whipped thrice a week for faults he took upon him to excuse others; since he came *From his poem entitled "Cooper's Hill." Where, with like haste, through several ways they run; I say, when I behold this vast variety of persons Thuyed. "Hist.," L. II, p. 130, edit. H. Steph., 1588, folio. +Ludgate was a prison for such debtors as were freemen of the city of London; it was taken down in the year 1762, and the prisoners removed to the London workhouse. into the business of the world, he has been arrested twice or thrice a-year for debts he had nothing to do with, but as surety for others; and I remember when a friend of his had suffered in the vice of the town, all the physic his friend took was conveyed to him by Jack, and inscribed "A bolus or an electuary for Mr. Truepenny." Jack had a good estate left him, which came to nothing; because he believed all who pretended to demands upon it. This easiness and credulity destroy all the other merit he has; and he has all his life been a sacrifice to others, without ever receiving thanks, or doing one good action. I will end this discourse with a speech which I heard Jack make to one of his creditors (of whom he deserved gentler usage) after lying a whole night in custody at his suit. "Sir, your ingratitude for the many kindnesses I have done you, shall not make me unthankful for the good you have done me, in letting me see there is such a man as you in the world. I am obliged to you for the diffidence I shall have all the rest of my life: I shall hereafter trust no man so far as to be in his debt."-R. On the side of the living, I saw several persons busy in drawing, coloring, and designing. On the side of the dead painters, I could not discover more than one person at work, who was exceed ingly slow in his motions, and wonderfully nice in his touches. either sex. The toujours gai appeared ever judges, bishops, and privy counselors. word, all his men were petits maitres, and women coquettes. The drapery of his figu extremely well suited to his faces, and wa up of all the glaring colors that could be together; every part of the dress was in a and endeavored to distinguish itself ab rest. I was resolved to examine the several artists that stood before me, and accordingly applied myself to the side of the living. The first I observed at work in this part of the gallery was Vanity, with his hair tied behind him in a ribbon, and dressed like a Frenchman. All the faces he drew were very remarkable for their smiles, and a certain smirking air which he bestowed indifferently on every age and degree of On the left hand of Vanity stood a la workman who I found was his humble a and copied after him. He was dressed German, and had a very hard name, that something like Stupidity. The third artist that I looked over wa tasque, dressed like a Venetian scaramou had an excellent hand at chimera, and de much in distortions and grimaces. He sometimes affright himself with the ph that flowed from his pencil. In short, t elaborate of his pieces was at best but a te dream; and one could say nothing more finest figures, than that they were a WHEN the weather hinders me from taking my diversions without doors, I frequently make a little party with two or three select friends, to visit anything curious that may be seen under covert. My principal entertainments of this na-dustry. ture are pictures, insomuch that when I have found the weather set in to be very bad, I have taken a whole day's journey to see a gallery that is furnished by the hands of great masters. By this means, when the heavens are filled with clouds, when the earth swims in rain, and all nature wears a lowering countenance, I withdraw myself from these uncomfortable scenes into the visionary worlds of art; where I meet with shining landscapes, gilded triumphs, beautiful faces, and all those other objects which fill the mind with gay ideas, and disperse that gloominess which is apt to hang upon it in those dark disconsolate seasons. I was some weeks ago in a course of these diversions, which had taken such an entire possession of my imagination, that they formed in it a short morning's dream, which I shall communicate to my reader, rather as the first sketch and outlines of a vision, than as a finished piece. I dreamt that I was admitted into a long, spacious gallery, which had one side covered with pieces of all the famous painters who are now living, and the other with the works of the greatest masters that are dead. monsters. The fourth person I examined was very able for his hasty hand, which left his pic unfinished that the beauty in the picture was designed to continue as a monument posterity) faded sooner than in the pers whom it was drawn. He made so much dispatch his business, that he neither gave time to clean his pencils, nor mix his color name of this expeditious workman was A Not far from this artist I saw another of different nature, who was dressed in th of a Dutchman, and known by the nam His figures were wonderfully If he drew the portraiture of a man, he omit a single hair in his face; if the fig ship, there was not a rope among the tac escaped him. He had likewise hung a gr of the wall with night pieces, that see show themselves by the candles whic lighted up in several parts of them; and inflamed by the sunshine which accident upon them, that at first sight I could sca bear crying out "Fire." The five foregoing artists were the mo siderable on this side the gallery; the indeed several others whom I had not look into. One of them, however, I co forbear observing, who was very busy in ing the finest pieces, though he produ originals of his own. His pencil agg every feature that was before overcharged every defect, and poisoned every color it t Though this workman did so much mis the side of the living, he never turned toward that of the dead. His name was E Having taken a cursory view of one sid gallery, I turned myself to that which wa by the works of those great masters th dead; when immediately I fancied myself ing before a multitude of spectators, an sands of eyes looking upon me at once before me appeared so like men and wom I almost forgot they were pictures. R: figures stood in one row, Titian's in Guido Rheni's in a third. One part of was peopled by Hannibal Carracce, ano Correggio, and another by Rubens. To b there was not a great master among the de had not contributed to the embellishment side of the gallery. The persons that ow being to these several masters, appeared them to be real and alive, and differed one another only in the variety of their complexions, and clothes; so that they looked like different nations of the same species. 4 Observing an old man (who was the same person I before mentioned as the only artist that was at work on this side of the gallery) creeping up and down from one picture to another, and retouching all the fine pieces that stood before me, I could not but be very attentive to all his motions. I found his pencil was so very light, that it worked imperceptibly, and, after a thousand touches, scarce produced any visible effect in the picture on which he was employed. However, as he busied himself incessantly, and repeated touch after touch without rest or intermission, he wore off insensibly every little disagreeable gloss that hung upon a figure. He also added such a beautiful brown to the shades and mellowness to the colors, that he made every picture appear more perfect than when it came fresh from the master's pencil. I could not forbear looking upon the face of this ancient workman, and immediately by the long lock of hair upon his forehead, discovered him to be Time. Whether it were because the thread of my dream was at an end I cannot tell; but, upon my taking a survey of this imaginary old man, my sleep left me.-C. No. 84.] WEDNESDAY, JUNE, 6, 1711. luxury, should never obtain favor by his means; but the distresses which arise from the many inexplicable occurrences that happen among men, the unaccountable alienation of parents from their children, cruelty of husbands to wives, poverty occasioned from shipwreck or fire, the falling out of friends, or such other terrible disasters to which the life of man is exposed,—in cases of this nature, Eucrate was the patron, and enjoyed this part of the royal favor so much without being envied, that it was never inquired into, by whose means, what no one else cared for doing was brought about. Who can such woes relate, without a tear, As stern Ulysses must have wept to hear? LOOKING over the old manuscript wherein the private actions of Pharamond are set down by way of table-book, I found many things which gave me great delight; and as human life turns upon the same principles and passions in all ages, I thought it very proper to take minutes of what passed in that age, for the instruction of this. The antiquary who lent me these papers gave me a character of Eucrate, the favorite of Pharamond, extracted from an author who lived in that court. The account he gives both of the prince and this his faithful friend, will not be improper to insert here, because I may have occasion to mention many of their conversations, into which these memorials of them may give light. "Pharamond, when he had a mind to retire for an hour or two from the hurry of business and fatigue of ceremony, made a signal to Eucrate, by putting his hand to his face, placing his arm negligently on a window, or some such action as appeared indifferent to all the rest of the company. Upon such notice, unobserved by others (for their entire intimacy was always a secret), Eucrate repaired to his own apartment to receive the king. There was a secret access to this part of the court, at which Eucrate used to admit many, whose mean appearance in the eyes of the ordinary waiters and doorkeepers made them be repulsed from other parts of the palace. Such as these were let in here by order of Eucrate, and had audiences of Pharamond. This entrance Pharamond called the gate of the unhappy,' and the tears of the afflicted who came before him, he would say were bribes received by Eucrate; for Eucrate had the most compassionate spirit of all then living, except his generous master, who was always kindled at the least affliction which was communicated to him. In regard for the miserable, Euerate took particular care that the proper forms of distress, and the idle pretenders to sorrow, about courts, who wanted only supplies to "One evening, when Pharamond came into the apartment of Eucrate, he found him extremely dejected: upon which he asked (with a smile that was natural to him), What, is there any one too miserable to be relieved by Pharamond, that Eucrate is melancholy? I fear there is,' answered the favorite: A person without, of a good air, well dressed, and though a man in the strength of life, seems to faint under some inconsolable calamity. All his features seem suffused with agony of mind; but I can observe in him, that it is more inclined to break away in tears than rage. I asked him what he would have. He said he would speak to Pharamond. I desired his business. He could hardly say to me, 'Eucrate, carry me to the king, my story is not to be told twice; I fear I shall not be able to speak it at all.' Pharamond commanded Eucrate to let him enter; he did so, and the gentleman approached the king with an air which spoke him under the greatest concern in what manner to demean himself. The king, who had a quick discerning, relieved him from the oppression he was under; and with the most beautiful complacency said to him, Sir, do not add to that foad of sorrow I see in your countenance the awe of my presence. Think you are speaking to your friend. If the circumstances of your distress will admit of it, you shall find me so. To whom the stranger: Oh, excellent Pharamond, name not a friend to the unfortunate Spinamont.* I had one, but he is dead by my own hand; but, oh Pharamond, though it was by the hand of Spinamont, it was by the guilt of Pharamond. I come not, oh excellent prince, to implore your pardon ; I come to relate my sorrow, a sorrow too great for human life to support; from henceforth shall all occurrences appear dreams, or short intervals of amusement from this one affliction, which has seized my very being. Pardon me, oh Pharamond, if my griefs give me leave, that I lay before you in the anguish of a wounded mind, that you, good as you are, are guilty of the generous blood spilt this day by this unhappy hand. O that it had perished before that instant!' Here the stranger paused, and recollecting his mind, after some little meditation, he went on in a calmer tone and gesture as follows: "There is an authority due to distress, and as none of human race is above the reach of sorrow, none should be above the hearing the voice of it; I am sure Pharamond is not. Know then, that I have this morning unfortunately killed in a duel, the man whom of all men living I most loved. I command myself too much in your royal presence, to say Pharamond gave me my friend! Pharamond has taken him from me! I will not say, shall the merciful Pharamond destroy his own subjects? Will the father of his country murder his people? But the merciful Pharamond * Mr. Thornhill, the gentleman here alluded to under the fictitious or translated name of Spinamont, killed Sir Cholmondley Deering, of Kent, Bart., in a duel, May 9, 1711. |
