"You cannot imagine, worthy Sir, how ridi- because she is not talkative; a quality very rarely during to be met with in the rest of her countrywomen culously I find we have been trussedress ex the war, and how infinitely the French cels ours. As I was taking my leave, the milliner furthe informed me, that with the assistance of a watch "The mantua has no lead in the sleeves, and maker, who was her neighbor, and the ingenion I hope we are not lighter than the French ladies, Mr. Powel, she had also contrived another puppe so as to want that kind of ballast; the petticoat which by the help of several little springs to b has no whalebone, but sits with an air altogether wound up within it, could move all its limbs, an gallant and degagé: the coiffure is inexpressibly that she had sent it over to her correspondent i pretty, and in short, the whole dress has a thou-Paris to be taught the various leanings and bend sand beauties in it which I would not have as yet made too public. "I thought fit, however, to give you this notice, that you may not be surprised at my appearing à la mode de Paris on the next birth-night. "I am Sir, your humble Servant, 66 TERAMINTA." Within an hour after I had read this letter, I received another from the owner of the puppet. "SIR, "On Saturday last, being the 12th instant, there arrived at my house in King-street, Covent-garden, a French baby for the year 1712. I have taken the utmost care to have her dressed by the most celebrated tire-women and mantua-makers in Paris, and do not find that I have any reason to be sorry for the expense I have been at in her clothes and importation: however, as I know no person who is so good a judge of dress as yourself, if you please to call at my house in your way to the city, and take a view of her, I promise to amend whatever you shall disapprove in your next paper, before I exhibit her as a pattern to the public. "I am, Sir, your most humble Admirer, and most obedient Servant, "BETTY CROSS-STITCH." ings of the head, the risings of the bosom, th courtesy, and recovery, the genteel trip, and th agreeable jet, as they are all now practiced at th court of France. She added, that she hoped she might depen upon having my encouragement as soon as it a rived; but as this was a petition of too great in portance to be answered extempore, I left h without a reply, and made the best of my way Will Honeycomb's lodgings, without whose s vice I never communicate anything to the publ of this nature.-X. No. 278.] FRIDAY, JANUARY 18, 1711-1 Sermones ego mallem HOR. 1 Ep. i, 250 “SIR, "YOUR having done considerable services in t great city, by rectifying the disorders of famili and several wives having preferred your advice a directions to those of their husbands, embolde me to apply to you at this time. I am a sh keeper, and though but a young man, I find experience that nothing but the utmost dilige As I am willing to do anything in reason for the both of husband and wife (among trading peop service of my countrywomen, and had much can keep affairs in any tolerable order. My w rather prevent faults than find them, I went last at the beginning of our establishment, sho night to the house of the above-mentioned Mrs. herself very assisting to me in my business Cross-stitch. As soon as I entered, the maid of much as could lie in her way, and I have rea the shop, who, I suppose, was prepared for my to believe it was with her inclination; but of 1 coming, without asking me any questions, intro-she has got acquainted with a schoolman, duced me to the little damsel, and ran away to call her mistress. The puppet was dressed in a cherry-colored gown and petticoat, with a short working apron over it, which discovered her shape to the most advantage. Her hair was cut and divided very prettily, with several ribbons stuck up and down in it. The milliner assured me, that her complexion was such as was worn by the ladies of the best fashion in Paris. Her head was extremely high, on which subject having long since declared my sentiments, I shall say nothing more to it at present. I was also offended at a small patch she wore on her breast, which I cannot suppose is placed there with any good design. Her necklace was of an immoderate length, being tied before in such a manner, that the two ends hung down to her girdle; but whether these supply the place of kissing-strings in our enemy's country, and whether our British ladies have any occasion for them, I shall leave to their serious consideration. After having observed the particulars of her dress, as I was taking a view of it altogether, the shopmaid, who is a pert wench, told me that mademoiselle had something very curious in the tying of her garters; but as I pay a due respect even to a pair of sticks when they are under petticoats, I did not examine into that particular. Upon the whole, I was well enough pleased with the appearance of this gay lady, and the more so, values himself for his great knowledge in Greek tongue. He entertains her frequently in shop with discourses of the beauties and ex lencies of that language; and repeats to her seve passages out of the Greek poets, wherein het her there is unspeakable harmony and agreea sounds that all other languages are wholly acquainted with. He has so infatuated her this jargon, that instead of using her former gence in the shop, she now neglects the affairs the house, and is wholly taken up with her t in learning by heart scraps of Greek, which vents upon all occasions. She told me some d ago, that whereas I use some Latin inscription my shop, she advised me with a great deal of cern to have them changed into Greek; it bein language less understood, would be more con mable to the mystery of my profession; that good friend would be assisting to us in this w and that a certain faculty of gentlemen would themselves so much obliged to me, that t would infallibly make my fortune. In short, frequent importunities upon this, and other pertinences of the like nature, make me very easy; and if your remonstrances have no effect upon her than mine, I am afraid I shal obliged to ruin myself to procure her a settlen at Oxford with her tutor, for she is already mad for Bedlam. Now, Sir, you see the da my family is exposed to, and the likelihood of wife's becoming both troublesome and usel unless her reading herself in your paper may make her reflect. She is so very learned that I cannot pretend by word of mouth to argue with her. She laughed out at your ending a paper in Greek, and said it was a hint to women of literature, and very civil not to translate it to expose them to the vulgar. You see how it is with, “MR. SPECTATOR, "Sir, your humble Servant." against the opera itself. What we pretend to assert "If you have that humanity and compassion in your nature that you take such pains to make one think you have, you will not deny your voice to a distressed damsel, who intends to be determined by your judgment in a matter of great importance to her. You must know then, there is an agreeable young fellow, to whose person, wit, and humor nobody makes any objection, that pretends to have been long in love with me. To this I must add (whether it proceeds from the vanity of my nature, or the seeming sincerity of my lover, I will not pretend to say), that I verily believe he has a real value for me; which, if true, you will ings until after that of the subscription.”—T. allow may justly augment his merit with his mistress. In short, I am so sensible of his good qualities, and what I owe to his passion, that I "We are, Sir, your most humble Servants, "NICOLINO HAYM, "There will be no performances in York-build think I could sooner resolve to give up my liberty No. 279.] SATURDAY, JANUARY 19, 1711-12. to him than anybody else, were there not an objection to be made to his fortunes, in regard they do not answer the utmost mine may expect, and are not sufficient to secure me from undergoing the reproachful phrase, so commonly used, that she has played the fool.' Now though I am one of those few who heartily despise equipage, diamonds, and a coxcomb, yet since such opposite notions from mine prevail in the world, even among the best, and such as are esteemed the most prudent people, I cannot find in my heart to resolve upon incurring the censure of those wise folks, which I am conscious I shall do, if, when I enter into a married state, I discover a thought beyond that of equaling, if not advancing my fortunes. Under this difficulty I now labor, not being in the least determined whether I shall be governed by the vain world, and the frequent examples I meet with, or hearken to the voice of my lover, and the motions I find in my heart in favor of him. Sir, your opinion and advice in this affair is the only thing I know can turn the balance, and which I earnestly entreat I may receive soon; for until I have your thoughts upon it, I am engaged not to give my swain a final discharge. "Beside the particular obligation you will lay on me, by giving this subject room in one of your papers, it is possible it may be of use to some others of my sex, who will be as grateful for the favor as, "Sir, your humble Servant, "FLORINDA." "P. S. To tell you the truth I am married to him already, but pray say something to justify me. "MR. SPECTATOR, "You will forgive us professors of music if we make a second application to you, in order to promote our design of exhibiting entertainments of msie in York-buildings. It is industriously insinuated that our intention is to destroy operas in general, but we beg of you to insert this plain explanation of ourselves in your paper. Our purpose is only to improve our circumstances, by improving the art which we profess. We see it utterly destroyed at present; and as we were the persons who introduced operas, we think it a groundless imputation that we should set up Reddere persone scit convenientia cuique HOR. Ars. Poet., v, 316. He knows what best befits each character. WE have already taken a general survey of the fable and characters in Milton's Paradise Lost. The parts which remain to be considered, according to Aristotle's method, are the sentiments and the language. Before I enter upon the first of these, I must advertise my reader, that it is my design, as soon as I have finished my general reflections on these four several heads, to give particular instances out of the poem which is now before us of beauties and imperfections which may be observed under each of them, as also of such other particulars as may not properly fall under any of them. This I thought fit to premise, that the reader may not judge too hastily of this piece of criticism, or look upon it as imperfect, before he has seen the whole extent of it. The sentiments in an epic poem are the thoughts and behavior which the author ascribes to the persons whom he introduces, and are just when they are conformable to the characters of the several persons. The sentiments have likewise a relation to things as well as persons, and are then perfect when they are such as are adapted to the subject. If in either of these cases the poet endeavors to argue or explain, to magnify or diminish, to raise love or hatred, pity or terror, or any other passion, we ought to consider whether the sentiments he makes use of are proper for those ends. Homer is censured by the critics for his defect as to this particular in several parts of the Iliad and Odyssey, though at the same time those who have treated this great poet with candor, have attributed this defect to the times in which he lived. It was the fault of the age and not of Homer, if there wants that delicacy in some of his sentiments, which now appears in the works of men of a much inferior genius. Beside, if there are blemishes in any particular thoughts, there is an infinite beauty in the greatest part of them. In short, if there are many poets who would not have fallen into the meanness of some of his sentiments, there are none who could have risen up to the greatness of others. Virgil has excelled all others in the propriety of his sentiments. Milton shines likewise very much in this particular: nor must we omit one consideration which adds to his the false refinements of latter ages. Milton, it must be confessed, has sometimes erred in this respect, as I shall show more at large in another paper; though considering how all the poets of the age in which he wrote were infected with this wrong way of thinking, he is rather to be ad mired that he did not give more into it, than that he did sometimes comply with the vicious taste which still prevails so much among modern honor and reputation. Homer and Virgil intro- not remember that Homer any where falls into duced persons whose characters are commonly the faults above-mentioned, which were indeed known among men, and such as are to be met with either in history or in ordinary conversation. Milton's characters, most of them, lie out of nature, and were to be formed purely by his own invention. It shows a greater genius in Shakspeare to have drawn his Caliban, than his Hotspur, or Julius Cæsar: the one was to be supplied out of his own imagination, whereas the other might have been formed upon tradition, history, and ob servation. It was much easier therefore for Ho-writers. mer to find proper sentiments for an assembly of Grecian generals, than for Milton to diversify his infernal council with proper characters, and inspires them with a variety of sentiments. The love of Dido and Eneas are only copies of what has passed between other persons. Adam and Eve, before the fall, are a different species from that of mankind, who are descended from them; and none but a poet of the most unbounded in vention, and the most exquisite judgment, could have filled their conversation and behavior with so many apt circumstances during their state of But since several thoughts may be natural which are low and groveling, an epic poet should no only avoid such sentiments as are unnatural o affected, but also such as are mean and vulgar Homer has opened a great field of raillery to mer of more delicacy than greatness of genius by the homeliness of some of his sentiments. But as have before said, these are rather to be imputed t the simplicity of the age in which he lived, t which I may also add, of that which he described than to any imperfection in that divine port Zoilus among the ancients, and Monsieur Per rault among the moderns, pushed their ridicu! Nor is it sufficient for an epic poem to be filled very far upon him, on account of some such ser with such thoughts as are natural, unless it abound ments. There is no blemish to be observed in Vi also with such as are sublime. Virgil in this par-gil under this head, and but a very few in Milton ticular falls short of Homer. He has not indeed so many thoughts that are low and vulgar; but at the same time has not so many thoughts that are sublime and noble. The truth of it is, Virgil seldom rises into very astonishing sentiments, where he is not fired by the Iliad. He everywhere charms and pleases us by the force of his own genius; but seldom elevates and transports us where he does not fetch his hints from Homer. innocence. Milton's chief talent, and indeed his distinguish ing excellence, lies in the sublimity of his thoughts. There are others of the moderns who rival him in every other part of poetry; but in the greatness of his sentiments he triumphs over all the poets, both modern and ancient, Homer only excepted. It is impossible for the imagination of man to distend itself with greater ideas, than those which he has laid together in his first, second, and sixth books. The seventh, which describes the creation of the world, is likewise wonderfully sublime, though not so apt to stir up emotion in the mind of the reader, nor consequently so perfect in the epic way of writing, because it is filled with less action. Let the judicious reader compare what Longinus has observed on several passages in Homer, and he will find parallels for most of them in the Paradise Lost. From what has been said we may infer, that as there are two kinds of sentiments, the natural and the sublime, which are always to be pursued in a heroic poem, there are also two kinds of thoughts which are carefully to be avoided. The first are such as are affected and unnatural; the second such as are mean and vulgar. As for the first kind of thoughts, we meet with little or nothing that is like them in Virgil. He has none of those trifling points and puerilities that are so often to be met with in Ovid, none of the epigrammatic turns of Lucan, none of those swelling sentiments which are so frequent in Statius and Claudian, none of those mixed embellishments of Tasso. Everything is just and natural. His sentiments show that he had a perfect insight into human nature, and that he knew everything which was the most proper to affect it. Mr. Dryden has in some places, which I may hereafter take notice of, misrepresented Virgil's way of thinking as to this particular, in the translation he has given us of the Encid. I do l I shall give but one instance of this impropri ty of thought in Homer, and at the same tim compare it with an instance of the same natur both in Virgil and Milton. Sentiments whic raise laughter can very seldom be admitted wit any decency into a heroic poem, whose busines it is to excite passions of a much nobler natur Homer, however, in his characters of Vulcan an Thersites, in his story of Mars and Venus, in h behavior of Irus, and in other passages, has be observed to have lapsed into the burlesque chara ter, and to have departed from that serious a which seems essential to the magnificence of epic poem. I remember but one laugh in t whole Æneid, which rises in the fifth book, up Monotes, where he is represented as thrown ove board, and drying himself upon a rock. But th piece of mirth is so well-timed that the severe critic can have nothing to say against it; for it the book of games and diversions, where the re der's mind may be supposed sufficiently relax for such an entertainment. The only piece pleasantry in Paradise Lost, is where the ev spirits are described as rallying the angels up the success of their newly-invented artillery. Th passage I look upon to be the most exceptionable the whole poem, as being nothing else but a stri of puns, and those, too, very indifferent ones: -Satan beheld their plight, And to his mates thus in derision call'd: L. And breast (what could we more?) propounded terms As they would dance; yet for a dance they seem'd To whom thus Belial in like gamesome mood: MILTON'S Par. Lost, b. vi, 1. 609, eta No. 280.] MONDAY, JANUARY 21, 1711-12. | itself. The author of the sentence at the head THE desire of pleasing makes a man agreeable or unwelcome to those with whom he converses, according to the motive from which that inclination appears to flow. If your concern for pleasing others arises from an innate benevolence, it never fails of success; if from a vanity to excel, its disappointment is no less certain. What we call an agreeable man, is he who is endowed with the natural bent to do acceptable things from a delight he takes merely as such; and the affectation of that character is what constitutes a fop. Under these leaders one may draw up all those who make any manner of figure, except in dumbshow. A rational and select conversation is composed of persons, who have the talent of pleasing with delicacy of sentiments flowing from habitual chastity of thought; but mixed company is frequently made up of pretenders to mirth, and is usually pestered with constrained, obscene, and painful witticisms. Now and then you may meet with a man so exactly formed for pleasing, that it is no matter what he is doing or saying; that is to say, that there need be no manner of importance in it, to make him gain upon everybody who hears or beholds him. This felicity is not the gift of nature only, but must be attended with happy circumstances, which add a dignity to the familiar behavior which distinguishes him whom we call an agreeable man. It is from this that everybody loves and esteems Polycarpus. He is in the vigor of his age and the gayety of life, but has passed through very conspicuous scenes in it; though no soldier, he has shared the danger, and acted with great gallantry and generosity on a decisive day of battle. To have those qualities which only make other men conspicuous in the world as it were supernumerary to him, is a circumstance which gives weight to his most indifferent actions for as a known credit is ready cash to a trader, so is acknowledged merit immediate distinction, and serves in the place of equipage to a gentleman. This renders Polycarpus graceful in mirth, important in business, and regarded with love, in every ordinary occurrence. But not to dwell upon characters which have such particular recommendation to our hearts, let us turn our thoughts rather to the methods of pleasing which must carry men through the world who cannot pretend to such advantages. Falling in with a particular humor or manner of one above you, abstracted from the general rules of good behavior, is the life of a slave. A parasite differs in nothing from the meanest servant, but that the footman hires himself for bodily labor, subjected to go and come at the will of his master, but the other gives up his very soul; he is prostituted to speak, and professes to think, after the mode of him whom he courts. This servitude to a patron, in an honest nature, would be more grievous than that of wearing his livery; therefore we shall speak of those things only which are worthy and ingenuous. The happy talent of pleasing either those above you or below you, seems to be wholly owing to the opinion they have of your sincerity. This quality is to attend the agreeable man in all the actions of his life; and I think there need no more be said in honor of it, than that it is what forces the approbation of your opponents. The guilty man has an honor for the judge who with justice pronounces against him the sentence of death of this paper, was an excellent judge of human life, and passed his own in company the most agreeable that ever was in the world. Augustus lived among his friends, as if he had his fortune to make in his own court. Candor and affability, accompanied with as much power as ever mortal was vested with, were what made him in the utmost manner agreeable among a set of admirable men, who had thoughts too high for ambition, and views too large to be gratified by what he could give them in the disposal of an empire, without the pleasures of their mutual conversation. A certain unanimity of taste and judgment, which is natural to all of the same order in the species, was the band of this society: and the emperor assumed no figure in it, but what he thought was his due from his private talents and qualifications, as they contributed to advance the pleasures and sentiments of the company. Cunning people, hypocrites, all who are but half virtuous, or half wise, are incapable of tasting the refined pleasure of such an equal company as could wholly exclude the regard of fortune in their conversations. Horace, in the discourse from whence I take the hint of the present speculation, lays down excellent rules for conduct in conversation with men of power; but he speaks with an air of one who had no need of such an application for anything which related to himself. It shows he understood what it was to be a skillful courtier, by just admonitions against importunity, and showing how forcible it was to speak modestly of your own wants. There is, indeed, something so shameless in taking all opportunities to speak of your own affairs, that he who is guilty of it toward him on whom he depends, fares like a beggar who exposes his sores, which, instead of moving compassion, makes the man he begs of turn away from the object. I cannot tell what is become of him, but I remember about sixteen years ago an honest fellow, who so justly understood how disagreeable the mention or appearance of his want would make him, that I have often reflected upon him as a counterpart of Irus, whom I have formerly mentioned. This man, whom I have missed for some years in my walks, and have heard was some way employed about the army, made it a maxim, that good wigs, delicate linen, and a cheerful air, were to a poor dependent the same that working tools are to a poor artificer. It was no small entertainment to me, who knew his circumstances, to see him, who had fasted two days, attribute the thinness they told him of, to the violence of some gallantries he had lately been guilty of. The skillful dissembler carried on this with the utmost address; and if any suspected his affairs were narrow, it was attributed to indulging himself in some fashionable vice rather than an irreproachable poverty, which saved his credit with those on whom he depended. The main art is to be as little troublesome as you can, and make all you hope for come rather as a favor from your patron than claim from you. But I am here prating of what is the method of pleasing so as to succeed in the world, when there are crowds, who have in city, town, court, and country, arrived to considerable acquisitions, and yet seem incapable of acting in any constant tenor of life, but have gone on from one successful error to another: therefore I think I may shorten this inquiry after the method of pleasing; and as the old beau said to his son, once for all, "Pray, Jack, be a fine gentleman;" so may I to my reader, abridge my instructions, and finish the art of pleasing in a word, "Be rich."-T. No. 951) TUESDAY, JANUARY 22, 1711-12. HAVING already given an account of the dissecbon of the beau's head, with the several discoveries made on that occasion; I shall here, according to my promise, enter upon the dissection of a coquette's heart, and communicate to the public such particularities as we observed in that curious piece of anatomy. I should perhaps have waved this undertaking, had I not been put in mind of my promise by several of my unknown correspondents, who are very importunate with me to make an example of the coquette, as I have already done of the beau. It is therefore in compliance with the request of my friends, that I have looked over the minutes of my former dream, in order to give the public an exact relation of it, which I shall enter upon without further preface. Our operator, before he engaged in this visionary dissection, told us, that there was nothing in his art more difficult than to lay open the heart of a coquette, by reason of the many labyrinths and recesses which are to be found in it, and which do not appear in the heart of any other animal. He desired us first of all to observe the pericardium, or outward case of the heart, which we did very attentively; and by the help of our glasses discerned in it millions of little scars, which seem to have been occasioned by the points of innumerable darts and arrows, that from time to time had glanced upon the outward coat; though we could not discover the smallest orifice, by which any of them had entered and pierced the inward sub stance. Every smatterer in anatomy knows that this pericardium, or case of the heart, contains in it a thin reddish liquor, supposed to be bred from the vapors which exhale out of the heart, and being stopped here, are condensed into this watery substance. Upon examining this liquor, we found that it had in it all the qualities of that spirit which is made use of in the thermometer, to show the change of weather. Nor must I here omit an experiment one of the company assured us he himself had made with this liquor, which he found in great quantity about the heart of a coquette whom he had formerly dissected. He affirmed to us, that he had actually inclosed it in a small tube made after the manner of a weather-glass; but that instead of acquainting him with the variations of the atmosphere, it showed him the qualities of those persons who entered the room where it stood. He affirmed also, that it rose at the approach of a plume of feathers, an embroidered coat, or a pair of fringed gloves; and that it fell as soon as an ill-shaped periwig, a clumsy pair of shoes, or an unfashionable coat came into his house. Nay, he proceeded so far as to assure us, that upon his laughing aloud when he stood by it, the liquor mounted very sensibly, and immediately sunk again upon his looking serious. In short, he told us, that he knew very well, by this invention, whenever he had a man of sense or a coxcomb in his room. Having cleared away the pericardium, or the case, and liquor above-mentioned, we came to the heart itself. The outward surface of it was extremely slippery, and the mucro, or point, so very cold withal, that upon endeavoring to take hold of it, it glided through the fingers like a smooth piece of ice. The fibers were turned and twisted in a more intricate and perplexed manner than they are usually found in other hearts; insomuch that t whole heart was wound up together in a Gordia knot, and must have had very irregular and un qual motions, while it was employed in its vit function. One thing we thought very observable, namel that upon examining all the vessels which ca into it, or issued out of it, we could not discov any communication that it had with the tongue. We could not but take notice likewise, that veral of those little nerves in the heart which a affected by the sentiments of love, hatred, a other passions, did not descend to this before from the brain, but from the muscles which about the eye. Upon weighing the heart in my hand, I fou it to be extremely light, and consequently ve hollow, which I did not wonder at, when, up looking into the inside of it, I saw multitudes cells or cavities, running one within another our historians describe the apartments of Ro mond's bower. Several of these little hollo were stuffed with innumerable sorts of trif which I shall forbear giving any particular count of, and shall therefore only take notice what lay first and uppermost, which upon our folding it, and applying our microscopes to it, peared to be a flame-colored hood. We are informed that the lady of this he when living, received the addresses of several = made love to her, and did not only give each them encouragement, but made every one conversed with believe that she regarded him w an eye of kindness; for which reason we expec to have seen the impressions of multitudes faces among the several plaits and foldings of heart; but to our great surprise not a single pr of this nature discovered itself until we came i the very core and center of it. We there obser a little figure, which, upon applying our glas to it, appeared dressed in a very fantastic man The more I looked upon it, the more I though had seen the face before, but could not possi recollect either the place or time; when at leng one of the company, who had examined this fig more nicely than the rest, showed us plainly the make of its face, and the several turns of features, that the little idol which was thus lodg in the very middle of the heart was the decea beau, whose head I gave some account of in last Tuesday's paper, As soon as we had finished our dissection, resolved to make an experiment of the heart, being able to determine among ourselves the ture of its substance, which differed in so m particulars from that of the heart in other fema Accordingly we laid it in a pan of burning co when we observed in it a certain salamandr quality, that made it capable of living in the mi of fire and flame, without being consumed, or much as singed. As we were admiring this strange phenomen and standing round the heart in a circle, it gav most prodigious sigh, or rather crack, and d persed all at once in smoke and vapor. This in ginary noise, which, methought, was louder th the burst of a cannon, produced such a viol shake in my brain, that it dissipated the fumes sleep and left me in an instant broad awake. |