ginary. We seek happiness, in which ease is the principal ingredient, and the end proposed in our most restless pursuits is tranquillity. We are therefore soothed and delighted with the representation of it, and fancy we partake of the pleasure. here lies the difference. Men, who, by long study and experience have reduced their ideas to certain classes, and consider the genera nature of things abstracted from particulars, express their thoughts after a more concise, lively, surprising manner. Those who pave little experience, or cannot abstract, deliver their sentiments in plain descriptions, by circumstances, and those observations which either A second reason is our secret approbation of innocence and simplicity. Human nature is not so much depraved, as to hinder us from respecting goodness in others, though we our-strike upon the senses, or are the first motions selves want it. This is the reason why we are so much charmed with the pretty prattle of children, and even the expressions of pleasure or uneasiness in some part of the brute creation. They are without artifice or malice; and we love truth too well to resist the charms of sincerity. A third reason is our love of the country. Health, tranquillity, and pleasing objects are the growth of the country; and though men, for the general good of the world, are made to love populous cities, the country hath the greatest share in an uncorrupted heart. When we paint, describe, or any way indulge our fancy, the country is the scene which supplies us with the most lovely images. This state was that wherein God placed Adam when in Paradise; nor could all the fanciful wits of antiquity imagine any thing that could administer more exquisite delight in their Elysium. No. 23.] Tuesday, April 7, 1713. Extrema per illos Justicia excedens terris vestigia fecit. of the mind. And though the former raises With thee for ever I in woods could rest, A 'shepherd will content himself to say the Come, Rosalind, oh! come, for without thee Again, since shepherds are not allowed to make deep reflections, the address required is so to relate an action, that the circumstances put together shall cause the reader to reffect. Thus, by one delicate circumstance, Corydon tells Alexis that he is the finest songster of the country: 'Of seven smooth joints a mellow pipe I have, As in another pastoral writer, after the same Virg. Geor. ii. 473. mistress likes him: From hence Astrea took her flight, and here HAVING already conveyed my reader into the fairy or pastoral land, and informed him what manner of life the inhabitants of that region lead; I shall, in this day's paper, give him some marks whereby he may discover whether he is imposed upon by those who pretend to be of that country; or, in other words, what are the characteristics of a true Arcadian. From the foregoing account of the pastorał life, we may discover that simplicity is necessary in the character of shepherds. Their minds must be supposed so rude and uncultivated, that nothing but what is plain and unaffected can come from them. Nevertheless, we are not obliged to represent them dull and stupid, since fine spirits were undoubtedly in the world before arts were invented to polish and adorn them. We may therefore introduce shepherds with good sense, and even with wit, provided their manner of thinking be not too gallant or refined. For all men, both rude and polite, think and conceive things the same way, (truth being eternally the same to all) though they express them very differently. For As I to cool me bath'd one sultry day, The wanton langh'd, and seem'd în haste to fly, 'Fair is my flock, nor yet uncomely I, The bordering flowers less beauteous than they grow? A second characteristic of a true shepherd is simplicity of manners, or innocence. This is so obvious from what I have before advanced, that it would be but repetition to insist long upon it. I shall only remind the reader, that as the pastoral life is supposed to be where nature is not much depraved, sincerity and truth will generally run through it. Some slight transgressions for the sake of variety may be admitted, which in effect will only serve to set off the simplicity of it in general. I cannot better illustrate this rule than by the following example of a swain who found his mistress asleep: 1 Once Delia slept on easy moss reclin'd, Her lovely limbs half bare, and rude the wind: A third sign of a swain is, that something of winking upon me, aud smiling at his sister ignorance. Jack gained his point; for the mother was pleased, and all the servants starea at the learning of their young master. Jack was so encouraged at this success, that for the first week he dealt wholly in paradoxes. I lived easy lives in the country, and contemplate was a common jest with him to pinch one o the works of nature, live in the greatest awe his sister's lap-dogs, and afterwards prove he When the girls were sorting of their Author. Nor doth this humour prevail could not feel it. less now than of old. Our peasants as sincerely a set of knots, he would demonstrate to them believe the tales of goblins and fairies, as the that all the ribands were of the same colour; neathens those of fauns, nymphs, and satyrs. or rather, says Jack, of no colour at all. My Hence we find the works of Virgil and Theo- lady Lizard herself, though she was not a little critus sprinkled with left-handed ravens, blasted pleased with her son's improvements, was one oaks, witchcrafts, evil eyes, and the like. And day almost angry with him; for having acciI observe with great pleasure that our English dentally burnt her fingers as she was lighting author of the pastorals I have quoted bath the lamp for her tea-pot, in the midst of her practised this secret with admirable judgment. anguish Jack laid hold of the opportunity to I will yet add another mark, which may be instruct her that there was no such thing as observed very often in the above-named poets, heads, in which Jack did not imagine he made heat in fire. In short, no day passed over our which is agreeable to the character of shep-the whole family wiser than they were before, herds, and nearly allied to superstition, I mean the use of proverbial sayings. I take the common similitudes in pastoral to be of the proverbial order, which are so frequent, that it is needless, and would be tiresome to quote them. I shall only take notice upon this head, that it is a nice piece of art to raise a proverb above the vulgar style, and still keep it easy and unaffected. Thus the old wish, God rest bis soul,' is finely turned: Then gentle Sidney liv'd, the shepherd's friend, No. 24.] Wednesday, April 8, 1713. Dicenda tacendaque calles? Pers. Sat. iv. 5. JACK LIZARD was about fifteen when he was After a year and a half's stay at the university, he came down among us to pass away a month or two in the country. The first night after his arrival, as we were at supper, we were all of us very much improved by Jack's table-talk. He told us, upon the appearance of a dish of wild fowl, that according to the opinion of some natural philosophers they might be lately come from the moon. Upon which the Sparkler bursting out into a laugh, he insulted her with several questions relating to the bigness and distance of the moon and stars; and after every interrogatory would be, That part of his conversation which gave those country gentlemen that came to visit us me the most pain, was what passed among On such occasions Jack usually took upon him to be the mouth of the company; and thinking himself obliged to be very merry, would enter. tain us with a great many old sayings and ab surdities of their college-cook. I found this fellow had made a very strong impression upon Jack's imagination; which he never considered was not the case of the rest of the company, till after many repeated trials he found that his stories seldom made any body laugh but bimself. I all this while looked upon Jack as a young tree shooting out into blossoms before its time; the redundancy of which, though it was a little unseasonable, seemed to foretell an uncommon fruitfulness. In order to wear out the vein of pedantry which ran through his conversation, I took him out with me one evening, and first of all insinuated to him this rule, which I had myself learned from a very great author, To think with the wise, but talk with the vulgar.' Jack's good sense soon made him reflect that he had exposed himself to the laughter of the ignorant by a contrary. behaviour; upon which he told me, that he would take care for the future to keep his notions to himself, and converse in the common received sentiments of mankind. He at the same time desired me to give him any other rules of conversation which I thought might be for his improvement. I told him I would think of it; and accordingly, as I have a particular affection for the young man, I gave him the next morning the following rules in writing, which may perhaps have contributed to make him the agreeable man he now is. The faculty of interchanging our thoughts with one another, or what we express by the word conversation, has always been represented by moral writers as one of the noblest privileges of reason, and which more particularly sets mankind above the brute part of the creation. Though nothing so much gains upon the affections as this extempore eloquence, which we have constantly occasion for, and are obliged to practise every day, we very rarely meet with any who excel in it. The conversation of most men is disagreeable, not so much for want of wit and learning, as of good-breeding and discretion. If you resolve to please, never speak to gratify any particular vanity or passion of your own, but always with a design either to divert or inform the company. A man who only aims at one of these, is always easy in his discourse. He is never out of humour at being interrupted, because he considers that those who hear him are the best judges whether what he was saying could either divert or inform them. A modest person seldom fails to gain the good-will of those he converses with, because nobody envies a man who does not appear to be pleased with himself. We should talk extremely little of ourselves. Indeed what can we say? It would be as imprudent to discover our faults, as ridiculous to count over our fancied virtues. Our private and domestic affairs are no less improper to be introduced in conversation. What does it concern the company how many horses you keep in your stables? or whether your servant is most knave or fool? A man may equally affront the company he is in, by engrossing all the talk, or observing a contemptuous silence. Before you tell a story, it may be generally not amiss to draw a short character, and give the company a true idea of the principal persons concerned in it. The beauty of most things consisting not so much in their being said or done, as in their being said or done by such a particular person, or on such a particular occasion. Notwithstanding all the advantages of youth, few young people please in conversation: the reason is, that want of experience makes them positive, and what they say is rather with a design to please themselves than any one else. It is certain that age itself shall make many things pass well enough, which would have been laughed at in the mouth of one much younger. Nothing, however, is more insupportable to men of sense, than an empty formal man who speaks in proverbs, and decides all controversies with a short sentence. This piece of stupidity is the more insufferable, as it puts on the air of wisdom. any particular science, for which he is remarkably famous. There is not, methinks, a handsomer thing said of Mr. Cowley in his whole life, than, that none but his intimate friends ever discovered he was a great poet by bis discourse: besides the decency of this rule. it is certainly founded in good policy. A man who talks of any thing he is already famous for, has little to get, but a great deal to lose. I might add, that he who is sometimes silent on a subject where every one is satisfied be could speak well, will often be thought no less knowing in other matters, where perhaps he is wholly ignorant. Women are frightened at the name of argument, and are sooner convinced by a happy turn, or witty expression, than by demonstration. Whenever you commend, add your reasons for doing so; it is this which distinguishes the approbation of a man of sense from the flattery of sycophants, and admiration of fools. Raillery is no longer agreeable than while the whole company is leased with it. I would least of all be understood to except the person rallied. Though good humour, sense, and discretion, can seldom fail to make a man agreeable, it may be no ill policy sometimes to prepare yourself in a particular manner for conversation, by looking a little further than your neighbours into whatever is become a reigning subject. If our armies are besieging a place of importance abroad, or our house of commons debating a bill of consequence at home, you can hardly fail of being heard with pleasure, if you have nicely informed yourself of the strength, situation, and history of the first, or of the reasons for and against the latter. It will have the same effect, if when any single person begins to make a noise in the world, you can learn some of the smallest accidents in his life or conversation, which though they are too fine for the observation of the vulgar, give more satisfaction to men of sense (as they are the best openings to a real character) than the recital of his most glaring actions. I know but one ill consequence to be feared from this method, namely, that coming full charged into company, you should resolve to unload whether a handsome opportunity offers itself or no. Though the asking of questions may plead for itself the specious names of modesty, and a desire of information, it affords little pleasure to the rest of the company who are not troubled with the same doubts; besides which, he who asks a question would do well to consider that he lies wholly at the mercy of another before he receives an answer. Nothing is more silly than the pleasure some people take in what they call' speaking their A prudent man will avoid talking much of minds. A man of this make will say à rude thing for the mere pleasure of saying it, when an opposite behaviour, full as innocent, might have preserved his friend, or made his fortune. It is not impossible for a man to form to himself as exquisite a pleasure in complying with the humour and sentiments of others, as of bringing others over to his own; since it is the certain sign of a superior genius, that can take and become whatever dress it pleases. I shall only add, that, besides what I have here said, there is something which can never be learnt but in the company of the polite. The virtues of men are catching as well as their vices; and your own observations added to these will soon discover what it is that commands attention in one man, and makes you tired and displeased with the discourse of another. THE prevailing humour of crying up authors that have writ in the days of our forefathers, and of passing slightly over the merit of our contemporaries, is a grievance that men of a free and unprejudiced thought have complained of through all ages in their writings. I went home last night full of these reflections from a coffee-house, where a great many excellent writings were arraigned, and as many very indifferent ones applauded, more (as it seemed to me) upon the account of their date, than upon any intrinsic value or demerit. The conversation ended with great encomiums upon my lord Verulam's History of Henry the VIIth. The company were unanimous in their approbation of it. I was too well acquainted with the traditional vogue of that book throughout the whole nation, to venture my thoughts upon it. Neither would I now offer my judgment upon that work to the public (so great a veneration have I for the memory of a man whose writings are the glory of our nation,) but that the authority of so leading a name may perpe. tuate a vicious taste amongst us, and betray future bistorians to copy after a model which I cannot help thinking far from complete. As to the fidelity of the history, I have nothing to say: to examine it impartially in that view would require much pains and leisure. But as to the composition of it, and sometimes the choice of matter, I am apt to believe it will appear a little faulty to an unprejudiced reader. A complete historian should be endowed with the essential qualifications of a great poet. His style must be majestic and grave, as well as simple and unaffected; his narration should be animated, short, and clear, Of the poet Lucillius. and so as even to outrun the impatience of the reader, if possible. This can only be done by being very sparing and choice in words, by retrenching all cold and superfluous circumstances in an action, and by dwelling upon such alone as are material, and fit to delight or instruct a serious mind. This is what we find in the great models of antiquity, and in a more particular manner in Livy, whom it is impossible to read without the warmest emotions. But my lord Verulam, on the contrary, is ever in the tedious style of declaimers, using two words for one; ever endeavouring to be witty, and as fond of out-of-the-way similies as some of our old play-writers. He abounds in low phrases, beneath the dignity of history, and often condescends to little conceits and quibbles. His political reflections are frequently false, almost every where trivial and puerile. His whole manner of turning his thoughts is full of affectation and pedantry; and there appears throughout his whole work more the air of a recluse scholar, than of a man versed in the world. After passing so free a censure upon a book which for these hundred years and upwards has met with the most universal approbation, I am obliged in my own defence to transcribe some of the many passages I formerly collected for the use of my first charge, sir Marmaduke Lizard. It would be endless should I point out the frequent tautologies and circumlocutions that occur in every page, which do, as it were, rarify, instead of condensing his thoughts and matter. It was, in all probability, his application to the law that gave him a habit of being so wordy; of which I shall put down two or three examples. That all records, wherein there was any memory or mention of the king's attainder, should be defaced, cancelled, and taken off the file.-Divers secret and nimble scouts and spies, &c. to learn, search, and discover all the circumstances and particulars.-To assail, sap,and work into the constancy of sir Robert Clifford.' I leave the following passages to every one's consideration, without making any farther remarks upon them. He should be well enough able to scatter the Irish as a flight of birds, and rattle away his swarm of bees with their king. The rebela took their way towards York, &c. but their snow-ball did not gather as it went.-So that (in a kind of mattacina* of human fortune) he turned a broach+ that had worn a crown; whereas fortune commonly doth not bring in a comedy or farce after a tragedy.-The queen was crowned, &c. about two years after the marriage, like an old christening that had stayed long for god-fathers.-Desirous to trou • A frolicsome dance. ↑ A spil. Non ego illam mihi dotem esse pato, quæ dos dicitur, A woman's true dowry, in my opinion, is not that which is usually so called; but virtue, modesty, and restrained desires. ble the waters in Italy, that he might fish the | my lord Verulam, that he lived in an age better, casting the net not out of St. Peter's, wherein chaste and correct writing was not but out of Borgia's bark.—And therefore upon in fashion, and when pedantry was the mode the first grain of incense that was sacrificed even at court; so that it is no wonder if the upon the altar of peace at Bulloigne, Perkin prevalent humour of the times bore down his was smoked away.-This was the end of this genius, though superior in force, perhaps, to little cockatrice of a king, that was able to any of our countrymen that have either gone destroy those that did not espy him first.-It before or succeeded him. was observed, that the great tempest which drove Philip into England, blew down the Golden Eagle from the spire of St. Paul's; No. 26.] Friday, April 10, 1713. and in the fall, it fell upon a sign of the Black Eagle, which was in Paul's church-yard, in the place where the school-house now standeth, and battered it, and broke it down: which was a strange stooping of a hawk upon a fowl.The king began to find where his shoe did wring him.-In whose bosom or budget most of Perkin's secrets were laid up.-One might know afar off where the owl was by the flight of birds.-Bold men, and careless of fame, and that took toll of their master's grist.-Empson and Dudley would have cut another chop out of him.-Peter Hialas, some call him Elias; surely he was the forerunner of, &c.—Lionel, | bishop of Concordia, was sent as nuncio, &c. but, notwithstanding he had a good ominous name to have made a peace, nothing followed.Taxing him for a great taxer of his people.Not by proclamations, but by court-fames, which commonly print better than printed proclamations.—Sir Edward Poynings was enforced to make a wild chace upon the wild Irish. In sparing of blood by the bleeding of so much treasure.-And although his own case had both steel and parchment more than the other; that is to say, a conquest in the field, and an act of parliament.-That pope knowing that king Henry the Sixth was reputed in the world abroad but for a simple man, was afraid it would but diminish the estimation of that kind of honour, if there were not a distance kept between innocents and saints.' .. Not to trouble my reader with any more instances of the like nature, I must observe that the whole work is ill conducted, and the story of Perkin Warbeck (which should have been only like an episode in a poem) is spun out to near a third part of the book. The character of Henry the Seventh, at the end, s rather an abstract of his history than a character. It is tedious, and diversified with so many particulars as confound the resemblance, and make it almost impossible for the reader to form any distinct idea of the person. It is not thus the ancients drew their characters; but in a few just and bold strokes gave you the distinguishing features of the mind (if I may be allowed the metaphor) in so distinct a manner, and in so strong a light, that you grew intimate with your man immediately, and knew him from a hundred. After all, it must be considered in favour of A HEALTHY old fellow, that is not a fool, is the happiest creature living. It is at that time of life only, men enjoy their faculties with pleasure and satisfaction. It is then we have nothing to manage, as the phrase is; we speak the downright truth, and whether the rest of the world will give us the privilege or not, we bave so little to ask of them, that we can take it. I shall be very free with the women from this one consideration; and, having nothing to desire of them, shall treat them as they stand in nature, and as they are adorned with virtue, and not as they are pleased to form and disguise themselves. A set of fops, from one generation to another, has made such a pother with bright eyes, the fair sex, the charms, the air,' and something so incapable to be expressed but with a sigh, that the creatures have utterly gone out of their very being, and there are no women in all the world. If they are not nymphs, shepherdesses, graces, or goddesses, they are to a woman, all of them the ladies.' Get to a christening at any alley in the town, and at the meanest artificer's, and the word is, 'Well, who takes care of the ladies?' I have taken notice that ever since the word Forsooth was banished for Madam, the word Woman has been discarded for Lady. And as there is now never a woman in England, I hope I may talk of women without offence to the ladies. What puts me in this present disposition to tell them their own, is, that in the holy week I very civilly desired all delinquents in point of chastity to make some atonement for their freedoms, by bestowing a charity upon the miserable wretches who languish in the Lock hospital. But I hear of very little done in that matter; and I am informed, they are pleased, instead of taking notice of my precaution, to call me an ill-bred old fellow, and say I do not understand the world. It is not, it seems, within the rules of good-breeding to tax the vices of people of quality, and the commandments were made for the vulgar. I am indeed informed of some oblations sent into the house, but they are all come from the |