empty imaginary good, that has not in it the power to abate or fatisfy it. Moft other things we long for can allay the cravings of their proper sense, and for a while fet the appetite at reft: but fame is a good fo wholly foreign to our natures, that we have no faculty in the foul adapted to it, nor any organ in the body to relish it; an object of defire placed out of the poffibility of fruition. It may indeed fill the mind for a while with a giddy kind of pleasure, but it is fuch a pleafure as makes a man reftlefs and uneafy under it; and which does not fo much fatisfy the prefent thirst, as it excites fresh defires, and fets the foul on new enterprises. For how few ambitious men are there, who have got as much fame as they deared, and whose thirst after it has not been as eager in the very height of their reputation, as it was before they became known and eminent among men? There is not any circumflance in Cæfar's character No flumber feals the eye of Providence, HATI might not lofe myfelf upon a fubject which gives me a greater idea of him, than a fay. To great extent as that of fame, I have ing which Cicero tells us he frequently made ufe of in private converfation, "That he was fatisfind with his fhare of life and fame." Se fatis wel ad nataram, vel ad gloriam vixiffe. Many indeed have given over their purfuits after fame, but that has proceeded either from the disappointments they have met in it, or from their experience of the little pleasure which attends it, or from the better informations or natural coldness of old age; but feldom from a full fatisfaction and acquiefcence in their prefent enjoyments of it. Nor is fame only unfatisfying in itfelf, but the defire of it lays us open to many accidental troubles which thofe are free from who have not fuch a tender regard for it. How often is the ambitious man caft down and difappointed, if he receives no praife where he expected it? Nay how often is he mortified with the very praifes he receives, if they do not rife fo high as he thinks they ought, which they feldom do unless increafed by flattery, fince few men have fo good an opinion of us as we have of ourselves? But if the ambitious man can be fo much grieved even with praise itself, how will he be able to bear up under fcandal and defamation? For the fame temper of mind which makes him defire fame, makes him hate reproach. If he can be tranfported with the extraordinary praises of men, he will be as much dejected by their cenfures. How little therefore is the happiness of an ambitious man, who gives every one a dominion over it, who thus fubjects himself to the good or ill fpeeches of others, and puts it in the power of every malicious tongue to throw him into a fit of melancholy, and destroy his natural reft and repofe of mind? efpecially when we confider that the world is more apt to cenfure than applaud, and himself fuller of imperfections than virtues. We may farther obferve, that fuch a man will be more grieved for the lofs of fame, than he could have been pleafed with the enjoyment of it. For though the prefence of this imaginary good cannot make us happy, the abfence of it may make us miferable; because in the enjoyment of an object we only find that fhare of pleafure which it is capable of giving us, but in the lofs of it we do not proportion our grief to the real value it bears, but to the value our fancies and imaginations fet upon it. So inconfiderable is the fatisfaction that fame brings along with it, and fo great the difquietudes to which it makes us liable. The defire of it firs up very uneasy motions in the mind, and is rather inflamed than satisfied by the prefence of the thing treated it in a particular order and method. I have first of all confidered the reasons why providence may have implanted in our mind fuch a principle of action. I have in the next place fhewn from many confiderations, first, that fame is a thing difficult to be obtained, and eafily loft; fecondly, that it brings the ambitious man very little happinefs, but fubjects him to much uneafinefs and diffatisfaction. I fhall in the laft place fhew, that it hinders us from obtaining an end which we have abilities to acquire, and which is accompanied with fulness of fatisfaction. I need not tell my reader, that I mean by this end that happiness which is referved for us in another world, which every one has abilities to procure, and which will bring along with it "fulness of joy and pleafures for ever"more." How the purfuit after fame may hinder us in the attainment of this great end, I fhall leave the reader to collect from the three following confiderations. First, Because the ftrong defire of fame breeds feveral vicious habits in the mind. Secondly, Because many of thofe actions, which are apt to procure fame, are not in their nature conducive to this our ultimate happiness. Thirdly, Because if we should allow the fame actions to be the proper inftruments, both of acquiring fame, and of procuring this happiness, they would nevertheless fail in the attainment of this last end, if they proceeded from a defire of the first. Thefe three propofitions are felf-evident to thofe who are verfed in fpeculations of morality, For which reafon I fhall not enlarge upon them, but proceed to a point of the fame nature, which may open to us a more uncommog field of speculation. From what has been already obferved, I think we may make a natural conclufion, that it is the greatest folly to feek the praife or approbation of any being, befides the Supreme, and that for these two reafons; becaufe no other being can make a right judgment of us, and efteem us according to our merits; and becaufe we can procure no confiderable benefit or advantage from the esteem and approbation of any other being. In the first place, no other being can make a right judgment of us, and efteem us according to our merits. Created beings fee nothing but our outfide, and can therefore only frame a judgment of us from our exterior actions and behaviour; but how from thofe weak ftirrings and tendencies of the will which have not yet formed themfelves into regular purposes and defigns, to the last intire finifhing and confummation of a good habit. He beholds the firft imperfect rudiments of a virtue in the foul, and keeps a watchful eye over it in all its progrefs, until it has received every grace it is capable of, and appears in its full beauty and perfection. Thus we fee that none but the fupreme Being can efteem us according to our proper merits, fince all others must judge of us from our outward actions; which can never give them a juft estimate of us, fince there are many perfections of a man which are not capable of appearing in actions; many which, allowing no natural incapacity of fhewing themselves, want an opportunity of doing it; or, fhould they all meet with an opportunity of appearing by actions, yet thofe actions may be mifinterpreted, and applied to wrong principles or though they plainly difcovered the principles from whence they proceeded, they could never fhew the degree, ftrength, and perfection of those principles. And as the fupreme Being is the only proper judge of our perfections, fo is he the only fit rewarder of them. This is a confideration that comes home to our intereft, as the other adapts itself to our ambition. And what could the most aspiring, or the most selfish man defire more, were he to form the notion of a being to whom he would recommend himself, than such a knowledge as can difcover the least appearance of perfection in him, and fuch a goodness as will proportion a reward to it. how unfit thefe are to give us a right notion of each other's perfections, may appear from feveral confiderations. There are many virtues, which in their own nature are incapable of any outward reprefentation: many filent perfections in the foul of a good man, which are great ornaments to human nature, but not able to difcover themfelves to the knowledge of others; they are tranfacted in private, without noife or fhow, and are only vifible to the great fearcher of hearts. What actions can express the intire purity of thought which refines and fanctifies a virtuous man? That fecret reit and contentedness of mind, which gives him a perfect enjoyment of his prefent condition? that inward pleature and complacency which he feels in doing good? that delight and fatisfaction which he takes in the profperity and happiness of another? thefe and the like virtues are the hidden beauties of a foul, the fecret graces which cannot be difcovered by a mortal eye, but make the foul lovely and precious in his fight, from whom no fecrets are concealed. Again, there are many virtues which want an opportunity of exerting and fhewing themfelves in actions. Every virtue requires time and place, a proper object and a fit conjuncture of circumitances, for the due exercise of it. A ftate of poverty obfcures all the virtues of liberality and munificence. The patience and fortitude of a martyr r confeffor lie concealed in the flourishing times of Chriftianity. Some virtues are only feen in affliction, and fome in profperity; fome in a private, and others in a public capacity. But the great Sovereign of the world beholds every perfection in its obfcurity, and not only fees what we do, but what we would do. He views our behaviour in every concurrence of affairs, and fees us engaged in all the poffibilities of action. He difcovers the martyr and confeffor without the trial of flames ard tortures, and will hereafter intitle many to the reward of actions, which they had never the opportunity of performing. Another reason why men cannot form a right judgment of us is, because the fame actions may be aimed at different ends, and arife from quite contrary principles. Actions are of fo mixt a nature and fo full of circumstances, that as men pry into them more or less, or obferve fome parts more than others, they take different hints, and put contrary interpretations on them; fo that the fame actions may represent a man as hypocritical and defigning No 258. WEDNESDAY, DECEM. 26. to one, which make him appear a faint or hero to another. He therefore who looks upon the foul through its outward actions, often fees it through a deceitful medium, which is apt to difcolour and pervert the object; fo that on this account also, He is the only proper judge of our perfections, who does not guefs at the fincerity of our intentions from the goodnefs of our actions, but weighs the goodness of our actions by the fincerity of our in tentions. But further; it is impoffible for outward actions to represent the perfections of the foul, becaufe they can never fhew the ftrength of those principles from whence they proceed. They are not adequate expreffions of our virtues, and can only fhew us what habits are in the foul, without difcovering the degree and perfection of fuch habits. They are at beft but weak refemblances of our intentions, faint and imperfect copies that may acquaint us with the general defign, but,can never exprefs the beauty and life of the original. But the great Judge of all the earth knows every different state and degree of human improvement, Let the ambitious man therefore turn all his defire of fame this way; and that he may propofe to himself a fame worthy of his ambition, let him confider that if he employs his abilities to the best advantage, the time will come when the fupreme Governor of the world, the great Judge of mankind, who fees every degree of perfection in others, and poffeffes all pollible perfection in himself, shall proclaim his worth before men and angels, and pronounce to him in the prefence of the whole creation that best and most significant of applauses, "Well done, thou good and falthful fervant, en"ter thou into thy Master's joy.” PLEAS Divide & impera. Divide and rule. C ASURE and recreation of one kind or other are abfolutely neceffary to relieve our minds and bodies from too conftant attention and labour: where therefore public diversions are tolerated, it behoves perfons of diftinction, with their power and example, to prefide over them in fuch a manner as to check any thing that tends to the corruption of manners, or which is too mean or trivial for the entermainment of reafonable creatures. As to the diverfions of this kind in this town, we owe them to the arts of poetry and mufic; my own private opinion, with relation to fuch recreations, I have heretofore given with all the franknefs imaginable; what concerns thofe arts at present the reader fhall have from my correfpondents. The first of the letters with which I acquit myself for this day, is written by one who proposes to improve our entertainments of dramatic poetry, and the other comes from three perfons, who, as foon as named, named, will be thought capable of advancing the prefent ftate of music. . • Mr. Spectator. I A M confiderably obliged to you for your fpeedy publication of my laft in your's of the 18th inftant, and am in no small hopes of being fettled in the poft of comptroller of the cries. Of all the objections I have hearkened after in public coffee-houses, there is but one that seems to carry any weight with it, viz. That fuch a poft would come too near the na· ture of a monopoly. Now, Sir, because I would have all forts of people made easy, and being willing to have more ftrings than one to my bow; in cafe that of comptroller fhould fail me, I have fince formed another project, which being grounded on the dividing of a prefent monopoly, I hope will give the public an equivalent to their full content. You know, Sir, it is allowed that the bufinefs of the ftage is, as the Latin has it, jucunda & idonea dicere vita. Now there being but one dramatic theatre licenfed for the delight and profit of this extenfive metropolis, I do humbly propofe, for the convenience of fuch of its inhabitants as are too diftant from Covent-Garden, that another < Theatre of Eafe may be erected in fome fpacious part of the city; and that the direction thereof may be made a franchife in fee to me, and my heirs for ever. And that the town may have no jealoufy of my ever coming to an union with the fet of actors now in being, I do further propofe to conftitute for my deputy my near kinfman and adventurer, Kit Crotchet, whofe long experience and improvements in thofe affairs need no recommendation. It was 'obvious to every spectator what a quite different foot the ftage was upon during his govern'ment; and had he not been bolted out of his trap-door, his garrifon might have held out for < ever, he having by long pains and perfeverance ⚫ arrived at the art of making his army fight without pay or provifions. I muft confefs it with a 'melancholy amazement, I fee fo wonderful a genius laid afide, and the late flaves of the ftage now become its mafters, dunces that will be fure to fupprefs all theatrical entertainments and activities that they are not able themselves to fhine in? Every man that goes to a play is not obliged to have either wit or understanding; and I infift upon it, that all who go there fhould fee fomething which may improve them in a way of which they are capable. In short, Sir, I would have fomething done as well as faid on the stage. A man may have an active body, though he has not a quick conception; for the imitation therefore of fuch as are, as I may fo fpeak, corporeal wits or nimble fellows, I would fain afk any of the prefent mismanagers, why should not rope-dancers, vaulters, tumblers, ladder-walkers, and posture-masters appear again on our ftage? After fuch a reprefentation, a five-bar gate would be leaped with a better grace next time any of the audience went a hunting. Sir, thefe things cry aloud ⚫ for reformation, and fall properly under the province of Spectator General; but how indeed fhould it be otherwife, while fellows, that for twenty years together were never paid but as their master was in the humour, now prefume to pay others more than ever they had in their lives; and in contempt of the practice of perfons of condition, have the infolence to owe " no tradefman a farthing at the end of the week. Sir, all I propofe is the public good; for no one can imagine I fhall ever get a private fhilling by it: therefore I hope you will recommend this matter in one of your this week's papers, and defire when my house opens you 'will accept the liberty of it for the trouble you have received from, Sir, Your humble fervant, Ralph Crotchet P. S. I have affurances that the trunk-maker will declare for us. • Mr. Spectator, E whofe names are fubfcribed, think W you the propereft perfon to fignify 'what we have to offer the town in behalf of ourfelves, and the art which we profefs, mufic. 'We conceive hopes of your favour from the fpeculations on the mistakes which the town 'run into with regard to their pleasure of this kind; and believing your method of judging is, that you confider mufic only valuable, as it is agreeable to, and heightens the purpose of poetry, we confent that that is not only the true way of relishing, that pleafure, but alfo that without it a compofure of mufic is the 'fame thing as a poem, where all the rules of 'poetical numbers are obferved, though the 'words have no fenfe or meaning; to fay it 'fhorter, mere mufical founds are in our art no other than nonfenfe verses are in poetry. Mu'fic therefore is to aggravate what is intended by poetry; it must always have fome paffion or fentiment to exprefs, or elfe violins, voices, or any other organs of found, afford an entertainment very little above the rattles of children. It was from this opinion of the matte:, that when Mr. Clayton had finished his ftudies in Italy, and brought over the opera of Arfinöe, that Mr. Haym and Mr. Dieupart, who had the honour to be well known and received among the nobility and gentry, were zealously inclined to affift, by their folicitations, in in'troducing fo elegant an entertainment as the Italian mufic grafted upon English poetry. For this end Mr. Dieupart and Mr. Haym, according to their feveral opportunities, promoted the 'introduction of Arfinöe, and did it to the best advantage fo great a novelty would allow. It is not proper to trouble you with particulars of the just complaints we all of us have to make; but fo it is, that without regard to our obliging pains, we are all equally fet afide in the prefert opera. Our application therefore to you is only to infert this letter in your papers, that the town may know we have all three joined toge'ther to make entertainments of mufic for the 'future at Mr. Clayton's houfe in York-buildings. What we promife ourselves, is, to make a fubfcription of two guineas, for eight times; and that the entertainment, with the names of the authors of the poetry, may be printed, ta be fold in the house, with an account of the fe < veral authors of the vocal as well as the inftru'mental mufic for each night; the money to be 'paid at the receipt of the tickets, at Mr. Charles Lillie's. It will, we hope, Sir, be easily allowed, that we are capable undertaking to exhibit by our joint force and different qualifi cariens ⚫cations all that can be done in mufic: but left a he Others you fhall find fo obfequious, and fo very What is becoming is honourable, and what is honourable is becoming. TH cular. I do not pretend to be the best courtier in the world, but I have often on public occafions thought it a very great abfurdity in the company (during the royal prefence) to exchange falutations from all parts of the room, when certainly common fenfe fhould fuggeft, that all regards at that time fhould be engaged, and cannot be diverted to any other object, without difrefpect to the fovereign. But as to the complaint of my correfpondents, it is not to be imagined what offence fome of them take at the custom of faluting in places of worship. I have a very angry letter from a lady, who tells me of one of her acquaintance, who, out of mere pride and a pretense to be rude, takes upon her to return no civilities done to her in time of divine fervice, and is the most religious woman for no other reafon but to appear a woman of the best quality in the church. This abfurd custom had better be abolished than retained, if it were but to prevent evils of no higher a nature than this is; but I am informed of objections much more confiderable: a diffenter of rank and distinction was lately prevailed upon by a friend of his to come to one of the greatest congregations of the church of England about town: after the service was over, he declared he was very well fatisfied with the little ceremony which was ufed towards God Al HERE are fome things which cannot come under certain rules, but which one would think could not need them.. Of this kind are outward civilities and falutations. These one would imagine might be regulated by every man's common fenfe, without the help of an inftructor; but that which we call common fenfe fuffers under that word; for it fometimes implies no more than that faculty which is common to all men, but fometimes fignifies right reaton, and what all men fhould confent to. In this latter acceptation of the phrafe, it is no great wonder people err fo much against it, fince it is not every one who is poffeffed of it, and there are fewer, who, again common rules and fashions, dare obey its dictates. As to falutations, which I was about to talk of, I obferve, as I troll about town, there are great enormighty; but at the fame time he feared he should mities committed with regard to this particular. You fhall fometimes fee a man begin the offer of a falutation, and obferve a forbidding air, or efcaping eye, in the perfon he is going to falute, and ftop short in the pole of his neck. This in the perfon who believed he could do it with a good grace, and was refufed the opportunity, is july refented with a coldness the whole enfuing feafon. Your great beauties, people in much favour, or by any means or for any purpofe over-flattered, are apt to practife this, which one may call the preventing afpect, and throw their attention another way, left they thould comer a bow or a courtefy upon a perfon who might not appear to deferve that dignity. not be able to go through those required towards one another: as to this point he was in a state of despair, and feared he was not well-bred enough to be a convert. There have been many fcandals of this kind given to our proteftant diffenters from the outward pomp and refpect we take to ourselves in our religious affemblies. A quaker who came one day into a church, fixed his eye upon an old lady with a carpet larger than that from the pulpit before her, expecting when he would hold forth. An anabaptift who defigns to come over himself, and all his family, within a few months, is fenfible they want breeding enough for our congregations, and has fent his two eldest daughters to learn learn to dance, that they may not misbehave themfelves at church; it is worth confidering whether, in regard to aukward people with fcrupulous confciences, a good chriftian of the beft air in the world ought not rather to deny herself the opportunity of fhewing fo many graces, than keep a bashful profelyte without the pale of the church. No 260. FRIDAY, DECEMBER 28. ४ • Mr. Spectator, I T POPE. men's doing foolishly what it is folly to do at all. Dear Sir, this is my prefent ftate of mind: I hate thofe I fhould laugh at, and envy thofe I con • temn. The time of youth and vigorous manhood, paffed the way in which I have difpofed of it, is attended with thefe confequences; but to those who live and pass away life as they ought, all parts of it are equally pleafant; only the me< mory of good and worthy actions is a feaft which must give a quicker relish to the foul than ever it could poffibly tafte in the highest enjoyments or jollities of youth. As for me, if I fit down in my great chair and begin to ponder, the vaga2. ver. 55ries of a child are not more ridiculous than the < circumftances which are heaped up in my me6 mory; fine gowns, country-dances, ends of tunes, interrupted conversations, and midnight quarrels, are what must neceflarily compofe my foliloquy. I beg of you to print this, that fome ladies of my acquaintance, and my years, may be perfuaded to wear warm night-caps this cold feafon : and that my old friend Jack Tawdry may buy him a cane, and not creep with the air of a ftrut. I muft add to all this, that if it were not for one pleasure, which I thought a very mean one until of very late years, I fhould have no one great fatisfaction left; but if I live to the 10th of March, 1714, and all my fecurities are good, I fhall be worth fifty thousand pounds. I am SIR, Am now in the fixty-fifth year of my age, and having been the greater part of my days a man of pleafure, the decay of my faculties is a ftagnation of my life. But how is it, Sir, that my appetites are increafed upon me with the lofs of power to gratify them? I write this, like a criminal, to warn people to enter upon what refor<mation they pleafe to make in themselves in their youth, and not expect they shall be capable of it from a fond opinion fome have often in their mouths, that if we do not leave our defires they will leave us. It is far otherwife; I am now as vain in my drefs, and as flippant if I fee ' a pretty woman, as when in my youth I ftood me, upon a bench in the pit to furvey the whole cir*cle of beauties. The folly is fo extravagant with 6 and I went on with fo little check of my de⚫ fires, or refignation of them, that I can affure " you, I very often, merely to entertain my own thoughts, fit with my fpectacles on, writing love-letters to the beauties that have been long fince in their graves. This is to warm my heart with the faint memory of delights which were once agreeable to me! but how much happier would my life have been now, if I could have looked back on any worthy action done for my Mr. Spectator, Y "OU will infinitely oblige a diftreffed lover, if you will infert in your very next paper, the following letter to my miftrefs. You must 'know, I am not a person apt to defpair, but the has got an odd humour of stopping short unaccountably, and, as the herself told a confident of her's, fhe has cold fits. These fits fhall laft her a month or fix weeks together; and as fhe falls into them, without provocation, fo it is to be ho◄ ped the will return from them without the merit of new fervices. But life and love will not ad country? if I had laid out that which I profufedmit of fuch intervals, therefore pray let her bø in luxury and wantonnefs, in acts of generofity or charity? I have lived a bachelor to this day; and inftead of a numerous offspring, with which, in the regular ways of life, I might poffibly have delighted myself, I have only to amufe myself. with the repetition of old ftories and intrigues which no one will believe I ever was concerned .in. I do not know whether you have ever treated of it or not; but you cannot fall on a better fubject, than that of the art of growing, old. In fuch a lecture you must propofe, that. • no one fets his heart upon what is tranfient; the beauty grows wrinkled while we are yet gazing at her. The witty man finks into an humourist imperceptibly, for want of reflecting that all things around him are in a flux, and continually changing: thus he is in the space of ten or fifteen · years furrounded by a new fet of people, whose • manners are as natural to them as his delights, method of thinking, and mode of living, were formerly to him and his friends. But the mifchief is, he looks upon the fame kind of errors which he himself was guilty of with an eye of fcorn, and with that fort of ill-will which men entertain against each other for different opi- .< nions: thus a crazy conftitution, and an unealy • mind is fretted with vexatious paffions for young Love you, and I honour you; therefore pray do not tell me of waiting 'till decencies, 'till forms, 'till humours are confulted and gratified. If you have that happy conftitution as to be indolent for ten weeks together, you should confi. der that all that while I burn with impatiences and fevers; but still you fay it will be tim enough, though I and you too grow older while we are yet talking.. Which do you think the more reasonable, that you should alter a state of indifference for happiness, and that to oblige me, or I live in torment, and that to lay no manner of obligation upon you? While I indulge your infenfibility I am doing nothing; If you favour my paffion, you are bestowing bright defires, gay hopes, generous cares, noble refolutions, and tranfporting raptures upon, |