No. 140. FRIDAY, AUGUST 10.

-Animum nunc buc celerem, nunc dividit illuc.
VIRG. Æn. 4. v. 285.
This way and that he turns his anxious mind.
DRYDEN.

Mr. Spectator,

I

Have loft fo much time already, that I defire, upon the receipt hereof, you would fit down immediately and give me your anfwer. And I would know of you whether a 'pretender of mine really loves me. As well as I can I will defcribe his manners.

HEN I that I have

W many other letters not yet acknowledg

ed, I believe he will own, what I have a mind
he fhould believe, that I have no fmall charge
upon me, but am a person of fome confequence
in this world. I fhall therefore employ the pre-many others, oblige,

fent hour only in reading petitions, in the order
as follows.

Sir,

Your most benevolent reader, R. D.'

When

he fees me he is always talking of conftancy,
• but vouchfafes to vifit me but once a fortnight,
and then is always in hafte to be gone. When
I am fick, I hear, he fays he is mightily con-
cerned, but neither comes nor fends, becaufe,
< as he tells his acquaintance with a figh, he
⚫ does not care to let me know all the power I
have over him, and how impoffible it is for
him to live without me. When he leaves the
town he writes once in fix weeks, defires to
hear from me, complains of the torment of
abfence, fpeaks of flames, tortures, languish-
ings, and ecftafies. He has the cant of an im-
'patient lover, but keeps the pace of a luke-
" warm one. You know I must not go fafter
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 fays
as he is flow he is fure; he will love me long,
if he love me little: but I appeal to you whe-
ther he loves at all.

• Your neglected humble fervant,
Lydia Novell.

All these fellows who have money are extremely faucy and cold; pray, Sir, tell them of it.'

means a quaint antithefis may be brought about, how one word may be made to look two ways, and what will be the confequence of a forced allufion. Now, though fuch authors appear to me to refemble thofe who 'make themselves fine, inftead of heing welldreffed, or graceful; yet the mifchief is, that these beauties in them, which I call blemishes, are thought to proceed from luxuriance of fan< cy, and overflowing of good fenfe: in one word, they have the character of being too witty: but if you would acquaint the world they are not witty at all, you would, among

<

Mr. Spectator,

I

Have been delighted with nothing more through the whole courfe of your writings than the fubftantial account you lately gave of wit, and I could with you would take fome other opportunity to exprefs further the corrupt tafte the age is run into; which I am chiefly apt to attribute to the prevalency of a few popular authors, whofe merit in fome refpects has given a fanétion to their faults in others. Thus the imitators of Milton feem to place all the excellency of that fort of writing either in the uncouth or antique words, or fomething elfe which was highly vicious, though pardonable, in that great man. The admirers of what we call point, or turn, look upon it as the particular happinefs to which Cowley, Ovid, and others, owe their reputation, and therefore imitate them only in fuch inftances; what is juft, proper and natural does not feem to be the question with them, but by what

Mr. Spectator,

Muft needs tell

your papers I do not much like. there are feveral of You are often fo nice there is no enduring you, and 'fo learned there is no understanding you. What have you to do with our petticoats? • Your humble fervant,

Parthenope.

L

6

6

Mr. Spectator, AST night as I was walking in the park, I met a couple of friends; pr'ythee Jack, 'fays one of them, let us go drink a glass of wine, for I am fit for nothing elfe. This put 'me upon reflecting on the many miscarriages which happen in conversation over wine, when men go to the bottle to remove fuch humours as it only ftirs 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 trou⚫blesome companion to himself, will not be an ' agreeable one to others. Let people reason 'themselves into good-humour, before they im'pose themselves upon their friends. Pray, Sir, be as eloquent as you can upon this fubject, and do human life fo much good, as to argue 'powerfully, that it is not every one that can fwallow who is fit to drink a glass of wine. Your most humble fervant."

6

I

Mr. Spectator,

ON a report that Moll White had fol lowed you to town, and was to act a part in the Lancathire-witches, I went laft week to fee that play. It was my fortune to 'fit next to a country juftice of the peace, a neighbour, as he faid, of Sir Roger's, who " pretended to fhew her to us in one of the dances. There was witchcraft enough in the entertainment almoft to incline me to believe

Τ

• him;

6 Parthenia.

C him; Ben Johnson was almoft lamed; young Ballock narrowly faved his neck; the audience was aftonished, and an old acquaintance of mine, a perfon of worth, whom I would have bowed to in the pit, at two yards diftance did not know me.

If you were what the country people reportcd you, a white witch, I could have withed < you had been there to have exercifed that rabble of broomsticks, with which we were haunted for above three hours. I could have allowed them to fet Clod in the tree, to have feared the fportfinen, plagued the juftice, and employed honeft Teague with his holy water. This was the proper ufe of them in comedy, if the author had stopped here; but I cannot <conceive what relation the facrifice of the black lanib, and the ceremonies of their worship to the devil, have to the bufinefs of mirth and • humour.

"But Shakefpear's magic could not copy'd be, "Within that circle none durft walk but he.'

I fhould not, however, have troubled you with thefe remarks, if there were not fontething elfe in this Comedy, which wants to be exorcifed more than the witches: I mean the freedom of fome paffages, which I should have overlooked, if I had not obferved that those jefts can raife the loudest mirth, though they are painful to right fenfe, and an outrage upon • modesty.

6

We must attribute fuch liberties to the tafte of that age, but indeed by fuch representati ons a poet facrifices the best part of his audience to the worft; and, as one would think; neglects the boxes, to write to the orange• wenches.

<

6

T

The gentleman who writ this play, and has drawn fome characters in it very juftly, appears to have been misled in his witchcraft by an unwary following the inimitable Shakespear. The incantations in Macbeth have a folemnity " admirably adapted to the occafion of that Tragedy, and fill the mind with a fuitable horror; befides, that the witches are a part of the story itself, as we find it very particularly re"lated in Hector Boetius, from whom he feems to have taken it. This therefore is a proper machine where the bufinefs is dark, horrid and bloody; but is extremely foreign from the affair of Comedy. Subjects of this kind, which < are in themfeives difagreeable, can at no time become entertaining, but by paffing through an imagination like Shakespear's to form them; for which reafon Mr. Dryden would not allow even Beaumont and Fletcher capable of imitat ing him.

F

<

'I must not conclude until I have taken no⚫tice of the moral with which this comedy ends. The two young ladies having given a notable example of outwitting thofe who had a right in the difpofal of them, and marrying without confent of parents; one of the injured parties, who is easily reconciled, winds up all with this remark,

·

-Defign whate'er we will, "There is a fate which over-rules us ftill."

2

We are to fuppofe that the gallants are men of merit, but if they had been rakes, the excufe might have ferved as well. Hans Carvel's wife was of the fame principle, but has exe

'preffed it with a delicacy, which fhews the is 'not ferious in her excufe, but in a fort of humorous philofophy turns off the thought of her guilt, and fays,

.

<

"That if weak women go aftray,
"Their ftars are more in fault than they."

This, no doubt, is a full reparation, and difmiffes the audience with very edifying impreffions.

(

C

Thefe things fall under a province you have partly pursued already, and therefore demand your animadverfion, for the regulating fo noble an entertainment as that of the ftage. It were to be wified that all who write for it hereafter would raife their genius, by the ambition of pleafing people of the best understanding; and, leave others who fhew nothing of the humans fpecies but rifibility, to feek their diverfion at the bear-garden, or fome other privileged place, where reafon and good-manners have no right to difturb them.

C

August 8, 1711.

I am, &

No 142. MONDAY, AUGUST 13.
Irrupta tenet copula

In an unbroken yoke of faithful love.

GLANVIL

T

HE following letters being genuine, and the images of a worthy paffion, I am willing to give the old lady's admonition to myfeit and the reprefentation of her own happiness, place in my writings.

Hor. Od. 13. l. 1. v. 18, -They equal move

methinks you do not ftrike at the root of the greatest evil in life, which is the falfe notion of gallantry in love. It is, and has long been, upon a very ill foot; but I who have been a wife forty years, and was bred in a way that has made me ever fince very happy, fee through the folly of it. In a word, Sir, when I was a young woman, all who avoided the vices of the age, were very carefully educated, and all fantaftical objects were turned out of our fight. The tapestry hangings, with the great and venerable fimplicity of the fcripture ftories, had better effects than now the loves of Venus and Adonis, or Bacchus and Ariadne in your fine prefent prints. The gentleman I am married to made love to mc in rapture, but it was the rapture of a Chriftian and a man of honour, not a romantic hero or a whining coxcomb: this put our life upon a right bafis. To give you an idea of our regard one to another, I inclofe to you feveral of his letters, writ forty years ago, when my lover; and one writ the other day, after fo many years cohabitation. Your fervant, Andromache."

ઃ

• Mr. Spectator,

August 9, 1711 AM now in the fixty-feventh year of my

"MADAM,

August 7, 1671

F my vigilance and ten thousand wishes for

any

force, you last night flept in fecurity, and had

6

every

"

6

6

every good angel in your attendance. To have 6 my thoughts ever fixed on you, to live in conftant fear of every accident to which human life is liable, and to fend up my hourly prayers to avert them from you; I fay, Madamn, thus to think, and thus to fuffer, is what I do for her who is in pain at my approach, and calls all my tender forrow impertinence. You are now before my eyes, my eyes that are ready to 'flow with tendernefs, but cannot give relief to my gufhing heart, that dictates what I am "now faying, and yearns to tell you all its achings. How art thou, oh my foul, ftolen from thyfelf! My books are blank paper, and my 'friends intruders. I have no hope of quiet but from your pity; to grant it, would make more for your triumph. To give pain is the tyranny, to make happy the true empire of beauty. If you would confider aright, you would find an agreeable change in difmiffingplied, She defigns to go with me. Pr'ythee

6

all that speak to me find me out, and 1 muft lock myfelf up, or other people will do it for me. A gentleman afked me this morning 'what news from Holland, and I answered, she is exquifitely handfome. Another defired to 'know when I had been laft at Windsor, I re

the attendance of a flave, to receive the com-
plaifance of a companion. I bear the former
in hopes of the latter condition: as I live in
chains without murmuring at the power which
inflicts them, fo I could enjoy freedom without
forgetting the mercy that gave it.

'allow me at leaft to kifs your hand before the
appointed day, that my mind may be in fome
compofure. Methinks I could write a volume
to you,
but all the language on earth would
'fail in faying how much, and with what difin-
terested paffion,

<

I am ever yours."

Madam, I am

"Your most devoted, most obedient fervant.?

Though I made him no declarations in his 'favour, you fee he had hopes of me when he writ this in the month following.'

• Madam,

September 3, 1671.
EFORE the light this morning dawned

waked, in ex

pectation of its return, not that it could give any new fenfe of joy to me, but as I hoped it would bless you with its chearful face, after a quiet which I wished you last night. If my prayers are heard, the day appeared with all the influence of a merciful Creator upon your perfon and actions. Let others, my lovely 'charmer, talk of a blind being that difpofes · their hearts, I contemn their low images of 6 love. I have not a thought which relates to ( you, that I cannot with confidence befeech the all-feeing Power to blefs me in. May he, " direct you all in your steps, and reward your innocence, your fan&ity of manners, your prudent youth, and becoming piety, with the con'tinuance of his grace and protection! This is " an unufual language to ladies; but you have " a mind elevated above the giddy notions of a ⚫ fex infnared by flattery, and mifled by a falfe and fhort adoration into a folid and long contempt. Beauty, my faireft creature, palls in the poffeffion, but I love alfo your mind; your foul is as dear to me as my own; and if the advantages of a liberal education, fome knowledge, and as much contempt of the world, I joined with the endeavours towards a life of trict virtue and religion, can qualify me to raise new ideas in a breaft fo well difpofed as yours is, our days will pafs away with joy; and old age, instead of introducing melancholy profpects of decay, give us hope of eternal youth in a better life. I have but few minutes from the duty of my employment to write in, and without time to read over what I have

"

writ, therefore befeech you to pardon the first 'hints of my mind, which I have expreffed in fo little order.

The two next were written after the day for ' our marriage was fixed.'

I am, deareft creature,
Your most obedient,
moft devoted fervant."

'MADAM,

September, 25, 1671.

T is the hardest thing in the world to be in

and yet bufinefs: as for me,

Dear Creature,

N

EXT to the influence of Heaven, I am. to thank you that I fee the returning day with pleasure. To pafs my evenings in fo 'fweet a converfation, and have the esteem of

September 30, 1671. Seven in the morning.

·

a woman of your merit, has in it a particula'rity of happiness no more to be expreffed than "returned. But I am, my lovely creature, contented to be on the obliged fide, and to employ all my days in new endeavours to convince I you and all the world of the fenfe I have of " your condefcenfion in choofing,

6

He was, when he writ the following letter, as agreeable and pleasant a man as any in Eng'land.'

"

Madam, Your most faithful,

moft obedient humble fervant.'

MADAM,

(

October 20, 1671. BEG pardon that my paper is not finer, but I am forced to write from a coffeehoufe where I am attending about bufinefs. There is a dirty crowd of bufy faces all around me talking of money, while all my ambition, all my wealth is love: love which animates my heart, fweetens my humour, enlarges my foul, and affects every action of my life. It is to my lovely charmer I owe that many noble ideas are continually affixed to my words and actions: it is the natural effect of that generous 'paffion to create in the admirer fome fimilitude

<

of the object admired; thus, my dear, am I every day to improve from fo fweet a compa'nion. Look up, my fair one, to that Heaven which made thee fuch, and join with me to implore its influence on our tender innocent hours, and befeech the author of love to blefs the rites he has ordained, and mingle with our happiness a juft sense of our tranfient condition and a refignation to his will, which only can regulate our minds to a fteady endeavour 'to please him and each other.

<

'

'I am, for ever, your faithful fervant. "I will

I will not trouble you with more letters at this time, but if you faw the poor withered hand which fends you thefe minutes, I am fure you will fmile to think there is one who is fo gallant as to speak of it ftill as fo welcome a prefent, after forty years poffeffion of the woman whom he writes to.'

minds at cafe. That infipid ftate wherein neither are in vigour, is not to be accounted any part of our portion of being. When we are in the fatiffaction of fome innocent pleasure, or pursuit of fome laudable defign, we are in the poffeflion of life, of human life. Fortune will give us difappointments enough, and nature is attended with infirmities enough, without our adding to the unhappy fide of our account by our fpleen or ill-humour. Poor Cottilus, among fo many real evils, a chronical diftemper and a narrow fortune, is never heard to complain: that equal fpirit of his, which any man may have, that, like him, will conquer pride, vanity and affectation, and follow nature, is not to be broken, because it has no points to contend for. To be anxious for nothing but what nature demands as neceflary, if it is not the way to an estate, is the way to what men aim at by getting an eftate. This temper will preferve health in the body, as well as tranquility in the mind. Cottilus fees the world in an hurry, with the fame fcorn that a fober perfon fees a man drunk. Had he been contented with what he ought to have been, how could, fays he, fuch a one have met with fuch a difappointment? If another had valued his miftrefs for what he ought to have loved her, he had not been in her power: if her virtue had a part of his paffion, her levity Mar. Epig. 70. 1. 6. had been his cure; the could not then have been falfe and amiable at the fame time.

Madam,

June 23, 1711. for omiffion to write yesterday. It was no failure of my tender regard for you; but having been very much perplexed in my thoughts on the fubject of my laft, made me determine to suspend speaking of it until I came myself. But, my lovely <\ creature, know it is not in the power of age, or misfortune, or any other accident which hangs over human life, to take from me the pleafing efteem I have for you, or the memory of the bright figure you appeared in when you gave < your hand and heart to,

T

Madam, your most grateful husband,
and obedient fervant

N° 143. TUESDAY, AUGUST 14.
Non eft vivere fed valere vita.

To breathe, is not to live; but to be well.

IT

T is an unreasonable thing fome men expect of their acquaintance. They are ever complaining that they are out of order, or difpleased, or they know not how, and are fo far from letting that be a reafon for retiring to their own homes, that they make it their argument for coming into company. What has any body to do with accounts of a man's being indisposed but his phyfician? If a man laments in company, where the reft are in humour enough to enjoy themselves, he fhould not take it ill if a fervant is ordered to prefent him with a porringer of caudle or poffetdrink, by way of admonition that he go home to bed. That part of life which we ordinarily underftand by the word converfation, is an indulgence, to the fociable part of our make; and should incline us to bring our proportion of good-will or good-humour among the friends we meet with, and not to trouble them with relations which muft of neceflity oblige them to a real or feigned affliction. Cares, diftreffes, difeafes, uneafineffes, and diflikes of our own, are by no means to be obtruded upon our friends. If we would confider how little of this viciffitude of motion and reft, which we call life, is spent with fatisfaction, we fhould be more tender of our friends, than to bring them little forrows which do not belong to them. There is no real life, but chearful life; therefore Valetudinarians fhould be fworn before they enter into company, not to fay a word of themfelves until the meeting breaks up. It is not here pretended, that we should be always fitting with chaplets of flowers round our heads, or be crowned with rofes in order to make our entertainment agreeable to us; but if, as it is usually obferved, they who refolve to be merry, feldom are fo; it will be much more unlikely for us to be well pleased, if they are admitted who are always complaining they are fad. Whatever we do we should keep up the chearfulness of our fpirits, and never let them fink below an inclination at least to be well-pleafed the way to this, is to keep our bodies in exercife, our

:

Since we cannot promife ourselves conftant health, let us endeavour at fuch a temper as may be our beft fupport in the decay of it. Uranius has arrived at that compofure of foul, and wrought himself up to fuch a neglect of every thing with which the generality of mankind is enchanted, that nothing but acute pains can give him difturbance, and against thofe too he will tell his intimate friends he has a fecret which gives him prefent eafe. Uranius is fo thoroughly perfuaded of another life, and endeavours fo fincerely to fecure an intereft in it, that he looks upon pain but as a quickening of his pace to an home, where he shall be better provided for than in his present apartment. Instead of the melancholy views which others are apt to give themselves, he will tell you that he has forgot he is mortal, nor will he think of himself as fuch. He thinks at the time of his birth he entered into an eternal being; and the fhort article of death he will not allow an interruption of life; fince that moment is not of half the duration as is his ordinary fleep. Thus is his being one uniform and confiftent series of chearful diverfions, and moderate cares, without fear or hope of futurity. Health to him is more than pleasure to another man, and fickness less affecting to him than indifpofition is to others.

I must confefs, if one does not regard life after this manner, none but idiots can pass it away with any tolerable patience. Take a fine lady who is of a delicate frame, and you may obferve from the hour fhe rifes a certain weariness of all that pafles about her. I know more than one who is much too nice to be quite alive. They are fick of fuch ftrange frightful people that they meet; one is fo aukward, and another fo difagreeable, that it looks like a penance to breathe the fame air with them. You fee this is fo very true, that a great part of ceremony and good - breeding among the ladies turns upon their uneafinefs; and I will undertake, if the how-d'ye fervants of our women were to make a weekly bill of sickness, as the parishclerks do of mortality, you would not find in an A a account