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those inward applications which are so
much in practice among us, are for the
most part nothing else but expedients to
make luxury consistent with health. The
apothecary is perpetually employed in
countermining the cook and the vintner.
It is said of Diogenes, that meeting a young
man who was going to a feast, he took him
up in the street and carried him home to
his friends, as one who was running into
imminent danger, had not he prevented
him.*
What would that philosopher have
said, had he been present at the gluttony
of a modern meal? Would not he have
thought the master of a family mad, and
have begged his servants to tie down his
hands, had he seen him devour foul, fish,
and flesh; swallow oil and vinegar, wines
and spices; throw down sallads of twenty
different herbs, sauces of an hundred in-
gredients, confections and fruits of number-
less sweets and flavours? What unnatural
motions and counter-ferments must such a
medley of intemperance produce in the
body? For my part, when I behold a
fashionable table set out in all its magnifi-
cence, I fancy that I see gouts and dropsies,
fevers and lethargies, with other innume-
rable distempers lying in ambuscade among
the dishes.

Nature delights in the most plain and simple diet. Every animal, but man, keeps to one dish. Herbs are the food of this species, fish of that, and flesh of a third. Man falls upon every thing that comes in his way; not the smallest fruit or excrescence of the earth, scarce a berry or a mushroom, can escape him.

It is impossible to lay down any determinate rule for temperance, because what is luxury in one may be temperance in another; but there are few that have lived any time in the world, who are not judges of their own constitutions, so far as to know what kinds and what proportions of food do best agree with them. Were I to consider my readers as my patients, and to prescribe such a kind of temperance as is accommodated to all persons, and such as is particularly suitable to our climate and way of living, I would copy the following rules of a very eminent physician. 'Make your whole repast out of one dish. If you indulge in a second, avoid drinking any thing strong until you have finished your meal; at the same time abstain from all sauces, or at least such as are not the most plain and simple.' A man could not be well guilty of gluttony, if he stuck to these few obvious and easy rules. In the first case there would be no variety of tastes to solicit his palate, and occasion excess; nor in the second any artificial provocatives to relieve satiety, and create a false appetite. Were I to prescribe a rule for drinking, it should be formed upon a saying quoted by Sir William Temple: The first glass for myself,

* Diog. Laert. Vitæ Philosoph. lib. vi. cap. 2. n. 6.

the second for my friends, the third for good humour, and the fourth for mine enemies.' But because it is impossible for one who lives in the world to diet himself always in so philosophical a manner, I think every man should have his days of abstinence, according as his constitution will permit. These are great reliefs to nature, as they qualify her for struggling with hunger and thirst, whenever any distemper or duty of life may put her upon such difficulties; and at the same time give her an opportunity of extricating herself from her oppressions, and recovering the several tones and springs of her distended vessels. Besides that abstinence, well-timed, often kills a sickness in embryo, and destroys the first seeds of an indisposition. It is observed by two or three ancient authors,† that Socrates, notwithstanding he lived in Athens during that great plague, which has made so much noise through all ages, and has been celebrated at different times by such eminent hands; I say, notwithstanding that he lived in the time of this devouring pestilence, he never caught the least infection, which those writers unanimously ascribe to that uninterrupted temperance which he always observed.

And here I cannot but mention an ob servation which I have often made, upon reading the lives of the philosophers, and comparing them with any series of kings or great men of the same number. If we consider these ancient sages, a great part of whose philosophy consisted in a temperate and abstemious course of life, one would think the life of a philosopher and the life of a man were of two different dates. For we find that the generality of these wise men were nearer an hundred than sixty years of age, at the time of their respective deaths. But the most remarkable instance of the efficacy of temperance towards the procuring of long life, is what we meet with in a little book published by Lewis Cornaro, the Venetian; which I the rather mention, because it is of undoubted credit, as the late Venetian ambassador, who was of the same family, attested more than once in conversation, when he resided in England. Cornaro, who was the author of the little treatise I am mentioning, was of an infirm constitution, until about forty, when by obstinately persisting in an exact course of temperance, he recovered a perfect state of health; insomuch that at fourscore he published his book, which has been translated into English under the title of Sure and Certain Methods of Attaining a Long and Healthy Life. He lived to give a third or

† Diogenes Laertius in Vit. Socratis.-Elian in Var.

His. Lib. 13. cap. 27, &c.

Lewis Cornaro was born in 1467. In his youth he

lived very freely; which brought him into a bad state of health, upon which he formed the resolution of confining himself to twelve ounces of food and fourteen of

wine daily; by which means, and exercise, he not only recovered his health, but acquired a vigorous constitu tion. He died at Padua in 1565.

fourth edition of it; and after having passed | of refinement are talking of tranquillity, his hundredth year, died without pain or possesses it. agony, and like one who falls asleep. The treatise I mention has been taken notice of by several eminent authors, and is written with such a spirit of cheerfulness, religion and good sense, as are the natural concomitants of temperance and sobriety. The mixture of the old man in it is rather a recommendation than a discredit to it.

Having designed this paper as the sequel to that upon exercise, I have not here considered temperance as it is a moral virtue, which I shall make the subject of a future speculation, but only as it is the means of health. L.

No 196.] Monday, October 15, 1711. ·

Est Ulubris, animus si te non deficit æquus.
Hor. Lib. 1. Ep. xi. 30.

True happiness is to no place confin'd,
But still is found in a contented mind.

MR. SPECTATOR,-There is a particular fault which I have observed in most of the moralists in all ages, and that is, that they are always professing themselves, and teaching others, to be happy. This state is not to be arrived at in this life, therefore I would recommend to you to talk in an humbler strain than your predecessors have done, and instead of presuming to be happy, instruct us only to be easy. The thoughts of him who would be discreet, and aim at practicable things, should turn upon allaying our pain, rather than promoting our joy. Great inquietude is to be avoided, but great felicity is not to be attained. The great lesson is equanimity, a regularity of spirit, which is a little above cheerfulness and below mirth. Cheerfulness is always to be supported if a man is out of pain, but mirth to a prudent man should always be accidental. It should naturally arise out of the occasion, and the occasion seldom be laid for it; for those tempers who want mirth to be pleased, are like the constitutions which flag without the use of brandy. Therefore, I say, let your precept be, Be easy.' That mind is dissolute and ungoverned, which must be hurried out of itself by loud laughter or sensual pleasure, or else be wholly unactive.

he

'What I would, by these broken expressions, recommend to you, Mr. Spectator, is, that you would speak of the way of life which plain men may pursue, to fill up the spaces of time with satisfaction. It is a lamentable circumstance, that wisdom, or, as you call it, philosophy, should furr.ash ideas only for the learned; and that a man must be a philosopher to know how to pass away his time agreeably. It would, there fore, be worth your pains to place in a hand some light the relations and affinities among men, which render their conversation with each other so grateful, that the highest talents give but an impotent pleasure in comparison with them. You may find descriptions and discourses which will render the fire-side of an honest artificer as entertaining as your own club is to you. Good-nature has an endless source of pleasures in it: and the representation of domestic life filled with its natural gratifications, instead of the necessary vexations which are generally insisted upon in the writings of the witty, will be a very good office to society.

The vicissitudes of labour and rest in the lower part of mankind, make their being pass away with that sort of relish which we express by the word comfort; and should be treated of by you, who are a Spectator, as well as such subjects which appear indeed more speculative, but are less instructive. In a word, sir, I would have you turn your thoughts to the advantage of such as want you most; and show that simplicity, innocence, industry, and temperance, are arts which lead to tranquillity, as much as learning, wisdom, knowledge, and contemplation.-I am, sir, your most humble serT. B.' vant,

'Hackney, Oct. 12. 'MR. SPECTATOR,-I am the young woman whom you did so much justice to some time ago, in acknowledging that I am perfect mistress of the fan, and use it with the utmost knowledge and dexterity. Indeed the world, as malicious as it is, will allow that from a hurry of laughter I recollect myself the most suddenly, make a curtsey, and let fall my hands before me, closing my fan at the same instant, the best of any woman in England. I am not a little delighted that I have had your notice and approbation; and however other young women may rally me out of envy, I triumph in it, and demand a place in your friendship. You must, therefore, permit me to lay before you the present state of my mind. I was reading your Spectator of the 9th instant, and thought the circumstance of the

There are a couple of old fellows of my acquaintance who meet every day and smoke a pipe, and by their mutual love to each other, though they have been men of business and bustle in the world, enjoy a greater tranquillity than either could have worked himself into by any chapter of Seneca. Indolence of body and mind, when we aim at no more, is very frequently en-ass divided between the two bundles of hay joyed; but the very inquiry after happiness has something restless in it, which a man who lives in a series of temperate meals, friendly conversations, and easy slumbers, gives himself no trouble about. While men

which equally affected his senses, was a lively representation of my present condition, for you are to know that I am extremely enamoured with two young gentlemen who at this time pretend to me. One

must hide nothing when one is asking advice, therefore I will own to you that I am very amorous, and very covetous. My lover Will is very rich, and my lover Tom very handsome. I can have either of them when I please; but when I debate the question in my own mind, I cannot take Tom for fear of losing Will's estate, nor enter upon Will's estate, and bid adieu to Tom's person. I am very young, and yet no one in the world, dear sir, has the main chance more in her head than myself. Tom is the gayest, the blithest creature! He dances well, is very civil and diverting at all hours and seasons. Oh! he is the joy of my eyes! But then again Will is so very rich and careful of the main. How many pretty dresses does Tom appear in to charm me! But then it immediately occurs to me that a man of his circumstances is so much the poorer. Upon the whole, I have at last examined both these desires of love and avarice, and upon strictly weighing the matter, I begin to think I shall be covetous longer than fond; therefore, if you have nothing to say to the contrary, I shall take Will. Alas, poor Tom! Your humble servant, T.

'BIDDY LOVELESS.’

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Alter rixatur de lana sæpe caprina,
Propugnat nugis armatus: scilicet, ut non
Sic mihi prima fides; et, vere quod placet, ut
Acritur elatrem? Pretium ætas altera sordet.
Ambigitur quid enim! Castor sciat, an Docilis plus,
Brundusium Numici melius, via ducat, an Appi.
Hor. Lib. 1. Ep. xviii. 15.

On trifles some are earnestly absurd:
You'll think the world depends on every word.
What! is not every mortal free to speak!
I'll give my reasons, though I break my neck!
And what's the question? If it shines or rains;
Whether 'tis twelve or fifteen miles to Staines.

Pitt.

EVERY age a man passes through, and way of life he engages in, has some particular vice or imperfection naturally cleaving to it, which it will require his nicest care to avoid. The several weaknesses to which youth, old age, and manhood are exposed, have long since been set down by many both of the poets and philosophers; but I do not remember to have met with any author who has treated of those illhabits men are subject to, not so much by reason of their different ages and tempers, as the particular professions or business in which they were educated and brought up. I am the more surprised to find this subject so little touched on, since what I am here speaking of is so apparent, as not to escape the most vulgar observation. The business men are chiefly conversant in, does not only give a certain cast or turn to their minds, but is very often apparent in their outward behaviour, and some of the most indifferent actions of their lives. It is this air diffusing itself over the whole man, which helps us to find out a person at his first appearance; so that the most careless

observer fancies he can scarce be mistaken in the carriage of a seaman, or the gait of a tailor.

The liberal arts, though they may possibly have less effect on our external mien and behaviour, make so deep an impression on the mind, as is very apt to bend it wholly one way.

The mathematician will take little less than demonstration in the most common discourse, and the schoolman is as great a friend to definition and syllogisms. The physician and divine are often heard to dictate in private companies with the same authority which they exercise over their patients and disciples; while the lawyer is putting cases and raising matter for disputation, out of every thing that occurs.

I may possibly some time or other animadvert more at large on the particular fault each profession is most infected with; but shall at present wholly apply myself to the cure of what I last mentioned, namely, that spirit of strife and contention in the conversations of gentlemen of the long robe.

This is the more ordinary, because these gentlemen regarding argument as their own proper province, and very often making ready money of it, think it unsafe to yield before company. They are showing in common talk how zealously they could defend a cause in court, and therefore frequently forget to keep that temper which is absolutely requisite to render conversa tion pleasant and instructive.

Captain Sentry pushes this matter so far that I have heard him say, he has known but few pleaders that were tolerable company.'

The captain, who is a man of good sense, but dry conversation, was last night giving me an account of a discourse, in which he had lately been engaged with a young wrangler in the law. I was giving my opinion,' says the captain, without apprehending any debate that might arise from it, of a general's behaviour in a battle that was fought some years before either the Templar or myself were born. The young lawyer immediately took me up, and by reasoning above a quarter of an hour upon a subject which I saw he understood nothing of, endeavoured to show me that my opinions were ill-grounded. Upon which,' says the captain, to avoid any further contests, I told him, that truly I had not considered those several arguments which he had brought against me, and that there might be a great deal in them.' says my antagonist, who would not let me escape so, there are several things to be urged in favour of your opinion, which you have omitted;' and thereupon begun to shine on the other side of the question. Upon this,' says the captain, I came over to my first sentiments, and entirely acquiesced in his reasons for my so doing, Upon which the Templar again recovered his former posture, and confuted both nim

ક Ay, but,"

self and me a third time. In short,' says my friend, 'I found he was resolved to keep me at sword's length, and never let me close with him; so that I had nothing left but to hold my tongue, and give my antagonist free leave to smile at his victory, who I found, like Hudibras, could still change sides, and still confute.**

absurdity: and though possibly you are endeavouring to bring over another to your opinion, which is firmly fixed, you seem only to desire information from him.

In order to keep that temper which is sc difficult, and yet so necessary to preserve, you may please to consider, that nothing can be more unjust or ridiculous, than to be angry with another because he is not of your opinion. The interests, education, and means by which men attain their know

For my own part, I have ever regarded our inns of court as nurseries of statesmen and lawgivers, which makes me often frequent that part of the town with great plea-ledge, are so very different, that it is im

sure.

possible they should all think alike; and he Upon my calling in lately at one of the has at least as much reason to be angry with most noted Temple coffee-houses, I found you, as you with him. Sometimes to keep the whole room which was full of young yourself cool, it may of service to ask yourstudents, divided into several parties, each self fairly, what might have been your opiof which was deeply engaged in some con- nion, had you all the biasses of education troversy. The management of the late and interest your adversary may possibly ministry was attacked and defended with have? But if you contend for the honour of great vigour; and several preliminaries to victory alone, you may lay down this as an the peace were proposed by some, and re-infallible maxim, that you cannot make a jected by others; the demolishing of Dunkirk more false step, or give your antagonists a was so eagerly insisted on, and so warmly greater advantage over you, than by falling. controverted, as had like to have produced into a passion. a challenge. In short, I observed that the desire of victory, whetted with the little prejudices of party and interest, generally carried the argument to such a height, as made the disputants insensibly conceive an aversion towards each other, and part with the highest dissatisfaction on both sides.

The managing an argument handsomely being so nice a point, and what I have seen so very few excel in, I shall here set down a few rules on that head, which among other things, I gave in writing to a young kinsman of mine, who had made so great a proficiency in the law that he began to plead in company, upon every subject that was started.

Having the entire manuscript by me, I may perhaps, from time to time, publish such parts of it as I shall think requisite for the instruction of the British youth. What regards my present purpose is as follows:

Avoid disputes as much as possible. In order to appear easy and well-bred in conversation, you may assure yourself that it requires more wit, as well as more good humour, to improve than to contradict the notions of another: but if you are at any time obliged to enter on an argument, give your reasons with the utmost coolness and modesty, two things which scarce ever fail of making an impression on the hearers. Besides, if you are neither dogmatical, nor show either by your actions or words, that you are full of yourself, all will the more heartily rejoice at your victory. Nay, should you be pinched in your argument you may make your retreat with a very good grace. You were never positive, and are now glad to be better informed. This has made some approve the Socratical way of reasoning, where, while you scarce affirm any thing, you can hardly be caught in an

* Part i. cant. 1. ver. 69, 70.

When an argument is over, how many weighty reasons does a man recollect, which his heat and violence made him utterly forget?

It is yet more absurd to be angry with a man because he does not apprehend the force of your reasons, or gives weak ones of his own. If you argue for reputation, this makes your victory the easier; he is certainly in all respects an object of your pity, rather than anger; and if he cannot comprehend what you do, you ought to thank nature for her favours, who has given you so much the clearest understanding.

You may please to add this consideration, that among your equals no one values your anger, which only preys upon its master; and perhaps you may find it not very consistent either with prudence or your ease, to punish yourself whenever you meet with a fool or a knave.

Lastly, If you propose to yourself the true end of argument, which is information, it may be a seasonable check to your passion; for if you search purely after truth, it will be almost indifferent to you where you find it. I cannot in this place omit an observation which I have often made, namely, That nothing procures a man more esteem and less envy from the whole company, than if he chooses the part of moderator, without engaging directly on either side in a dispute. This gives him the character of impartial, furnishes him with an opportunity of sifting things to the bottom, showing his judgment, and of sometimes making handsome compliments to each of the contending parties.

I shall close this subject with giving you one caution. When you have gained a victory, do not push it too far; it is sufficient to let the company and your adversary see it is in your power, but that you are too generous to make use of it.

X.

No. 198.] Wednesday, October 17, 1711.

Cervæ luporum præda rapacium,
Sectamur ultro, quos opimus
Fallere et effugere est triumphus.

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Hor. Lib. 4. Od. iv. 50.

We, like weak hinds,' the brinded wolf provoke,
And when retreat is victory

Rush on, though sure to die.

Oldisworth.

hurt. A salamander knows no distinction

which I lately heard from one of our Spanish officers, and which may show the danger a woman incurs by too great familiarities with a male companion.

An inhabitant of the kingdom of Castile being a man of more than ordinary prudence, and of a grave composed behaviour, THERE is a species of women, whom I determined about the fiftieth year of his shall distinguish by the name of salaman-age to enter upon wedlock. In order to ders. Now a salamander is a kind of he- make himself easy in it, he cast his eye roine in chastity, that treads upon fire and upon a young woman who had nothing to lives in the midst of flames without being education, her parents having been reduced recommend her but her beauty and her of sex in those she converses with, grows to great poverty by the wars which for familiar with a stranger at first sight, and some years have laid that whole country is not so narrow-spirited as to observe whe-waste. The Castilian having made his adther the person she talks to be in breeches dresses to her and married her, they lived or petticoats. She admits a male visitant to her bed-side, plays with him a whole afternoon at picquet, walks with him two or three hours by moonlight, and is extremely

scandalized at the unreasonableness of a

husband, or the severity of a parent, that would debar the sex from such innocent

together in perfect happiness for some time; when at length the husband's affairs made it necessary for him to take a voyage to the his estate lay. The wife loved him too tenkingdom of Naples, where a great part of derly to be left behind him. They had not unluckily fell into the hands of an Algerine been a shipboard above a day, when they liberties. Your salamander is therefore a pirate, who carried the whole company on perpetual declaimer against jealousy, an admirer of the French good-breeding, and shore, and made them slaves. The Castilian a great stickler for freedom in conversation. and his wife had the comfort to be under In short, the salamander lives in an invinci- the same master; who seeing how dearly ble state of simplicity and innocence. Her constitution is preserved in a kind of natural frost. She wonders what people mean by temptations, and defies mankind to do their worst. Her chastity is engaged in a constant ordeal, or fiery trial: like good Queen Emma, the pretty innocent walks blindfolded among burning ploughshares, without being scorched or singed by them. It is not therefore for the use of the salamander, whether in a married or a single state of life, that I design the following paper; but for such females only as are made of flesh and blood, and find themselves subject to human frailties.

As for this part of the fair sex who are not of the salamander kind, I would most earnestly advise them to observe a quite different conduct in their behaviour; and to avoid as much as possible what religion calls temptations, and the world opportunities. Did they but know how many thousands of their sex have been gradually betrayed from innocent freedoms to ruin and infamy; and how many millions of ours have begun with flatteries, protestations, and endearments, but ended with reproaches, perjury, and perfidiousness; they would shun like death the very first approaches of one that might lead them into inextricable labyrinths of guilt and misery. I must so far give up the cause of the male world, as to exhort the female sex in the language of Chamont in the Orphan:

Trust not to man; we are by nature false,
Dissembling, subtle, cruel, and unconstant;
When a man talks of love with caution trust him;
But if he swears, he'll certainly deceive thee.

they loved one another and gasped after their liberty, demanded a most exorbitant price for their ransom. The Castilian, though he would rather have died in slavery himself, than have paid such a sum as he moved with compassion towards his wife, found would go near to ruin him, was so that he sent repeated orders to his friend in Spain, (who happened to be his next relation) to sell his estate, and transmit the money to him. His friend hoping that the reasonable, and unwilling to sell an estate terms of his ransom might be made more which he himself had some prospect of inheriting, formed so many delays, that three whole years passed away without any thing being done for the setting them at liberty.

There happened to live a French renegado, in the same place where the Castilian and his wife were kept prisoners. As this fellow had in him all the vivacity of his nation, he often entertained the captives with accounts of his own adventures; to which he sometimes added a song or a dance, or some other piece of mirth, to divert them during their confinement. His acquaintance with the manners of the Al gerines enabled him likewise to do them The Castilian, as he several good offices. was one day in conversation with this renegado, discovered to him the negligence and treachery of his correspondent in Castile, and at the same time asked his advice how he should behave himself in that exigency; he further told the renegado, that he found it would be impossible for him to raise the money, unless he himself might go over to

* Viz. one of the English officers who had been em

I might very much enlarge upon this subject, but shall conclude it with a story ployed in the war in Spain.

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