in vogue amongst the fine ladies this Christ mas, because I see they wear hoods of all colours, which I suppose is for that purpose. If it is, and you think it proper, I will carry some of those hoods with me to our ladies in Yorkshire: because they enjoined me to bring them something from London that was very new. If you can tell any thing in which I can obey their commands more agreeably, be pleased to inform me, and you will extremely oblige your humble servant.' regardless of what kind of wives they take, | parson has lost his cloak," is not mightily they think riches will be a minister to all kind of pleasures, and enable them to keep mistresses, horses, hounds; to drink, feast, and game with their companions, pay their debts contracted by former extravagances, or some such vile and unworthy end; and indulge themselves in pleasures which are a shame and scandal to human nature. Now as for women, how few of them are there who place the happiness of their marriage in the having a wise and virtuous friend? One who will be faithful and just to all, and constant and loving to them? Who with care and diligence will look after and improve the estate, and without grudging allow whatever is prudent and convenient? Rather, how few are there who do not place their happiness in outshining others in pomp and show? and that do not think within themselves when they have married such a rich person, that none of their acquaintance shall appear so fine in their equipage, so adorned in their persons, or so magnificent in their furniture as themselves? Thus their heads are filled with vain ideas; and I heartily wish I could say that equipage and show were not the chief good of so many women as I fear it is. 'After this manner do both sexes deceive themselves, and bring reflections and disgrace upon the most happy and most honourable state of life; whereas, if they would but correct their depraved taste, moderate their ambition, and place their happiness upon proper objects, we should not find felicity in the marriage state such a wonder in the world as it now is. 'Sir, if you think these thoughts worth inserting among your own, be pleased to give them a better dress; and let them pass abroad, and you will oblige your admirer, 'A. B.' 'Oxford, Déc. 29. inclined to be a friend to the distressed, I 'MR. SPECTATOR,-Since you appear beg you would assist me in an affair under which I have suffered very much. The reigning toast of this place is Patetia; I have pursued her with the utmost diligence this twelvemonth, and find nothing stands in my way but one who flatters her more than I can. Pride is her favourite passion; therefore if you would be so far my friend as to make a favourable mention of me in one of your papers, I believe I should not fail in my addresses. The scholars stand in rows, as they did to be sure in your time, at her pew door; and she has all the devotion paid to her by a crowd of youths who are unacquainted with the sex, and have inexperience added to their passion. However, if it succeeds according to my vows, you will make me the happiest man in the world, and the most obliged amongst all your humble servants. ‹ MR. SPECTATOR,—I came to my mistress's toilet this morning, for I am admitted when her face is stark naked: she frowned and cried pish, when I said a thing that I stole; and I will be judged by you whether it was not very pretty. "Madam," said I, you shall forbear that part of your dress; it may be well in others, but you cannot place a patch where it does not hide a beauty. Evo rarissima nostro T. Ovid. Ars Am. Lib. i. 241. Most rare is now our old simplicity.-Dryden. 'MR. SPECTATOR, AS I was this day walking in the street, there happened to pass by on the other side of the way a beauty, whose charms were so attracting, that it drew my eyes wholly on that side, insomuch, that I neglected my own way, and chanced to run my nose directly against No. 269.] Tuesday, January 8, 1711-12. a post; which the lady no sooner perceived, but she fell into a fit of laughter, though at the same time she was sensible that she herself was the cause of my misfortune, which in my opinion was the greater aggravation of her crime. I being busy wip-knocking at the door, when my landlady's ing off the blood which trickled down my face, had not time to acquaint her with her barbarity, as also with my resolution, viz. never to look out of my way for one of her sex more: therefore, that your humble servant may be revenged, he desires you to insert this in one of your next papers, which he hopes will be a warning to all the rest of the women-gazers, as well as to poor 'ANTHONY GÁPE.' MR. SPECTATOR,-I desire to know in your next, if the merry game of "The I was this morning surprised with a great daughter came up to me and told me that there was a man below desired to speak with me. Upon my asking her who it was, she told me it was a very grave elderly person, but that she did not know his name. him to be the coachman of my worthy friend I immediately went down to him, and found Sir Roger de Coverley. He told me that his master came to town last night, and would be glad to take a turn with me in Gray's Inn walks. As I was wondering with myself what had brought Sir Roger to town, not having lately received any letter from him, he told me that his master was come up to get a sight of Prince Eugene, and that he desired I would immediately meet him. I was not a little pleased with the curiosity of the old knight, though I did not much wonder at it, having heard him say more than once in private discourse, that he looked upon Prince Eugenio (for so the knight always calls him,) to be a greater man than Scanderbeg. * I was no sooner come into Gray's Inn walks, but I heard my friend upon the terrace hemming twice or thrice to himself with great vigour, for he loves to clear his pipes in good air, (to make use of his own phrase,) and is not a little pleased with any one who takes notice of the strength which he still exerts in his morning hems. I was touched with a secret joy at the sight of the good old man, who before he saw me was engaged in conversation with a beggar-man that had asked alms of him. I could hear my friend chide him for not finding out some work; but at the same time saw him put his hand in his pocket and give him sixpence. Our salutations were very hearty on both sides, consisting of many kind shakes of the hand, and several affectionate looks which we cast upon one another. After which the knight told me my good friend his chaplain was very well, and much at my service, and that the Sunday before he had made a most incomparable sermon out of Dr. Barrow. 'I have left,' says he, 'all my affairs in his hands, and being willing to lay an obligation upon him, have deposited with him thirty marks, to be distributed among his poor parishioners.' laudable custom of his ancestors, always keeps open house at Christmas. I learned from him that he had killed eight fat hogs for this season, that he had dealt about his chines very liberally amongst his neighbours, and that in particular he had sent a string of hog's puddings with a pack of cards to every poor family in the parish. have often thought,' says Sir Roger, 'it happens very well that Christmas should fall out in the middle of winter. It is the most dead uncomfortable time of the year, when the poor people would suffer very much from their poverty and cold, if they had not good cheer, warm fires, and Christmas gambols to support them. I love to rejoice their poor hearts at this season, and to see the whole village merry in my great hall. I allow a double quantity of malt to my small-beer, and set it a running for twelve days to every one that calls for it. I have always a piece of cold beef and a mince-pie upon the table, and am wonderfully pleased to see my tenants pass away a whole evening in playing their innocent tricks, and smutting one another. Our friend. Will Wimble is as merry as any of them, and shows a thousand roguish tricks upon these occasions. I was very much delighted with the reflection of my old friend, which carried so much goodness in it. He then launched out into the praise of the late act of parliament for securing the church of England,† and told me with great satisfaction, that he believed it already began to take effect, for that a rigid dissenter who chanced to dine at his house on Christmas-day, had been observed to eat very plentifully of his plum porridge. After having despatched all our country He then proceeded to acquaint me with matters, Sir Roger made several inquiries the welfare of Will Wimble. Upon which concerning the club, and particularly of his he put his hand into his fob and presented old antagonist Sir Andrew Freeport. He me in his name with a tobacco-stopper, asked me with a kind smile, whether Sir telling me that Will had been busy all the Andrew had not taken the advantage of his beginning of the winter in turning great absence, to vent among them some of his quantities of them; and that he made a pre- republican doctrines; but soon after, gathersent of one to every gentleman in the coun- ing up his countenance into a more than try who has good principles, and smokes. ordinary seriousness, Tell me truly,' says He added, that poor Will was at present un-he, 'do you not think Sir Andrew had a der great tribulation, for that Tom Touchy had taken the law of him for cutting some hazel sticks out of one of his hedges. Among other pieces of news which the knight brought from his country-seat, he informed me that Moll White was dead, and that about a month after her death the wind was so very high, that it blew down the end of one of his barns. But for my own part,' says Sir Roger, I do not think that the old woman had any hand in it.' He afterwards fell into an account of the diversions which had passed in his house during the holidays; for Sir Roger, after the * George Castriot, a ceiebrated Albanian chief in the fifteenth century: he was called Scanderbeg by the Turks, with whom he long con rued at war. hand in the Pope's procession?'-But without giving me time to answer him, 'Well, well,' says he, "I know you are a wary man, and do not care to talk of public matters.' always lie in his Hall window, which very | play. Such beautiful prospects gladden our much redound to the honour of this prince. minds, and when considered in general, Having passed away the greatest part of give innocent and pleasing ideas. He that the morning in hearing the knight's reflec- dwells upon any one object of beauty may tions, which were partly private and partly fix his imagination to his disquiet; but the political, he asked me if I would smoke a contemplation of a whole assembly together pipe with him over a dish of coffee at is a defence against the incroachment of Squires's? As I love the old man, I take desire. At least to me, who have taken delight in complying with every thing that pains to look at beauty abstracted from the is agreeable to him, and accordingly waited consideration of its being the object of deon him to the coffee-house, where his vener- sire; at power, only as it sits upon another, able figure drew upon us the eyes of the without any hopes of partaking any share whole room. He had no sooner seated him- of it; at wisdom and capacity, without any self at the upper end of the high table, but pretensions to rival or envy its acquisitions. he called for a clean pipe, a paper of to- I say to me, who am really free from formbacco, a dish of coffee, a wax-candle, and ing any hopes by beholding the persons of the Supplement,* with such an air of cheer- beautiful women, or warming myself into fulness and good-humour, that all the boys ambition from the successes of other men, in the coffee-room (who seemed to take this world is not only a mere scene, but a pleasure in serving him) were at once em- very pleasant one. Did mankind but know ployed on his several errands, insomuch the freedom which there is in keeping thus that nobody else could come at a dish of aloof from the world, I should have more tea, until the knight had got all his con- imitators, than the powerfullest man in the veniences about him. L. nation has followers. To be no man's rival in love, or competitor in business, is a character which, if it does not recommend you as it ought to benevolence among those No. 270.] Wednesday, January 9, 1711-12. whom you live with, yet has it certainly Discit enim citius, meminitque libentius illud, There is a lust in man no power can tame, Sooner we learn, and seldomer forget, I Do not know that I have been in greater delight for these many years, than in beholding the boxes at the play the last time the Scornful Lady† was acted. So great an assembly of ladies placed in gradual rows in all the ornaments of jewels, silks, and colours, gave so lively and gay an impression to the heart, that methought the season of the year was vanished, and I did not think it an ill expression of a young fellow who stood near me, that called the boxes those 'beds of tulips.' It was a pretty variation of the prospect, when any one of those fine ladies rose up and did honour to herself and friend at a distance, by courtesying, and gave opportunity to that friend to show her charms to the same advantage in returning the salutation. Here that action is as proper and graceful as it is at church unbecoming and impertinent. By the way I must take the liberty to observe, that I did not see any one who is usually so full of did not see any one who is usually so full of civilities at church, offer any such indecorum during any part of the action of the this effect, that you do not stand so much in need of their approbation, as you would if you aimed at it more, in setting your heart on the same things which the generality doat on. By this means, and with this easy philosophy, I am never less at a play than when I am at the theatre; but indeed I am seldom so well pleased with action as in that place; for most men follow nature no longer than while they are in their nightgowns, and all the busy part of the day are in characters which they neither become, their beholders. But to return to my ladies: nor act in with pleasure to themselves or I was very well pleased to see so great a crowd of them assembled at a play, wherein the heroine, as the phrase is, is so just a picture of the vanity of the sex in tormentthe man whom she treats with so much iming their admirers. The lady who pines for pertinence and inconstancy, is drawn with much art and humour. Her resolutions to be extremely civil, but her vanity arising just at the instant she resolved to express herself kindly, are described as by one who had studied the sex. But when my admiration is fixed upon this excellent character, and two or three others in the play, I must confess I was moved, with the utmost indignation, at the trivial, senseless, and unis possible there may be a pedant in holy natural representation of the chaplain. It orders, and we have seen one or two of them in the world: but such a driveller as Sir Roger, so bereft of all manner of pride, which is the characteristic of a pedant, is what one would not believe could come into The title of Sir was anciently given to every domestic chaplain. It is surprising to observe how much has been written on this subject by some of the commenta. ors on Shakspeare. See the Merry Wives of Windsor. Mille trahens varios adverso sole colores. Virg. Æn. iv. 701 I RECEIVE a double advantage from the letters of my correspondents; first, as they show me which of my papers are most ar ceptable to them: and in the next place, as they furnish me with materials for new speculations. Sometimes indeed I do not make use of the letter itself, but form the hints of it into plans of my own invention; sometimes I take the liberty to change the language or thought into my own way of speaking and thinking, and always (if it can be done without prejudice to the sense) omit the many compliments and applauses which are usually bestowed upon me. skilful management of the subscribing part at the end of them, which perhaps does not a little conduce to the ease, both of my self and reader. Some will have it, that I often write to myself, and am the only punctual correspondent I have. This objection would indeed be material, were the letters I communicate to the public stuffed with my own commendations; and if instead of endeayouring to divert and instruct my readers, I admired in them the beauty of my own performances. But I shall leave these wise conjecturers to their own imaginations, and produce the three following letters for the entertainment of the day. the head of the same man who drew the No. 271.] Thursday, January 10, 1711-12. rest of the play. The meeting between Welford and him shows a wretch without any notion of the dignity of his function; and it is out of all common sense that he should give an account of himself as one sent four or five miles in a morning, on foot, for eggs. It is not to be denied, but this part, and that of the maid, whom he makes love to, are excellently well performed; but a thing which is blameable in itself, grows still more so by the success in the execution of it. It is so mean a thing to gratify a loose age with a scandalous representation of what is reputable among men, not to say what is sacred, that no beauty, no excellence in an author ought to atone for it; nay, such excellence is an aggravation of his guilt, and an argument that he errs against the conviction of his own understanding and conscience. Wit should be tried by this Besides the two advantages above menrule, and an audience should rise against tioned, which I receive from the letters such a scene as throws down the reputation that are sent me, they give me an opporof any thing which the consideration of re-tunity of lengthening out my paper by the ligion or decency should preserve from contempt. But all this evil arises from this one corruption of mind, that makes men resent offences against their virtue, less than those against their understanding. An author shall write as if he thought there was not one man of honour or woman of chastity in the house, and come off with applause: for an insult upon all the ten commandments with the little critics is not so bad as the breach of a unity of time and place. Half wits do not apprehend the miseries that must necessarily flow from a degeneracy of manners; nor do they know that order is the support of society. Sir Roger and his 'mistress are monsters of the poet's own forming; the sentiments in both of them are such as do not arise in fools of their education. We all know that a silly scholar, instead of being below every one he meets with, is apt to be exalted above the rank of such as are really his superiors; his arrogance is always founded upon particular notions of distinction in his own head, accompanied with a pedantic scorn of all fortune and pre-eminence, when compared with his knowledge and learning. This very one character of Sir Roger, as silly as it really is, has done more towards the disparagement of holy orders, and consequently of virtue itself, than all the wit of that author, or any other, could make up for in the conduct of the longest life after it. I do not pretend in saying this, to give myself airs of more virtue than my neighbours, but assert it from the principles by which mankind must always be governed. Sallies of imagination are to be overlooked, when they are committed out of warmth in the recommendation of what is praise-worthy; but a deliberate advancing of vice, with all the wit in the world, is as ill an action as any that comes before the magistrate, and ought to be received as such by the people. A T. a 'SIR,-I was last Thursday in an assembly of ladies, where there were thirteen different coloured hoods. Your Spectator of that day lying upon the table, they ordered me to read it to them, which I did with a very clear voice, until I came to the Greek verse at the end of it. I must confess I was a little startled at its popping upon me so unexpectedly. However, I covered my confusion as well as I could, and after having muttered two or three hard words to myself, laughed heartily; and cried, very good jest, faith." The ladies desired me to explain it to them; but I begged their pardon for that, and told them, that if it had been proper for them to hear, they might be sure the author would not have wrapped it up in Greek. I then let drop several expressions, as if there was something in it that was not fit to be spoken Defore a company of ladies. Upon which the matron of the assembly, who was dressed in a cherry-coloured hood, commended the discretion of the writer for having thrown his filthy thoughts into Greek, which was likely to corrupt but few of his readers. At the same time she declared herself very well pleased that he had not given a decisive opinion upon the new-fashioned hoods; the ladies wore coloured hoods, and ordered "for to tell you truly," says she, "I was afraid he would have made us ashamed to show our heads." Now, sir, you must know since this unlucky accident happened to me in a company of ladies, among whom I passed for a most ingenious man, I have consulted one who is well versed in the Greek language, and he assures me upon his word, that your late quotation means no more than that "manners, not dress, are the ornaments of a woman." If this "If comes to the knowledge of my female admirers, I shall be very hard put to it to bring myself off handsomely. In the mean while, I give you this account, that you may take care hereafter not to betray any No. 272.] Friday, January 11, 1711-12. of your well-wishers into the like inconveniences. It is in the number of these that I beg leave to subscribe myself, "TOM TRIPPIT.' 'MR. SPECTATOR,-Your readers are so well pleased with the character of Sir Roger de Coverley, that there appeared a sensible joy in every coffee-house, upon hearing the old knight was come to town. I am now with a knot of his admirers, who make it their joint request to you, that you would give us public notice of the window or balcony where the knight intends to make his appearance. He has already given great satisfaction to several who have seen him at Squires's coffee-house. If you think fit to place your short face at Sir Roger's left elbow, we shall take the hint and gratefully acknowledge so great a favour. I am, sir, your most devoted humble servant, C. D.' 'SIR,-Knowing that you are very inquisitive after every thing that is curious in nature, I will wait on you if you please in the dusk of the evening, with my show upon my back, which I carry about with me in a box, as only consisting of a man, woman, and horse.* The two first are married, in which state the little cavalier has so well acquitted himself, that his lady is with child. The big-bellied woman and her husband, with their whimsical palfrey, are so very light, that when they are put together in a scale, an ordinary man may weigh down the whole family. The little man is a bully in his nature; but when he grows choleric I confine him to his box until his wrath is over, by which means I have hitherto prevented him from doing mischief. His horse is likewise very vicious, for which reason I am forced to tie him close to his manger with a packthread. The woman is a coquette. She struts as much as it is possible for a lady of two feet high, and would ruin me in silks, were not the quantity that goes to a large pincushion sufficient to make her a gown and petticoat. She told me the other day, that she heard *About the time this paper was published, there were exhibited in London, two dwarfs (a man and his wife) and a horse of a very diminutive size. -Longa est injuria, longæ Ambages- "That 'MR. SPECTATOR,-The occasion of this letter is of so great importance, and the circumstances of it such, that I know you will but think it just to insert it, in preference to all other matters that can present themselves to your consideration. I need not, after I have said this, tell you that I am in love. The circumstances of my passion I shall let you understand as well as a disordered mind will admit. cursed pick-thank, Mrs. Jane!" Alas, I am railing at one to you by her name, as familiarly as if you were acquainted with her as well as myself: but I will tell you all, as fast as the alternate interruptions of love and anger will give me leave. There is the most agreeable young woman in the world whom I am passionately in love with, and from whom I have for some space of time received as great marks of favour as . were fit for her to give, or me to desire. The successful progress of the affair, of all others the most essential towards a man's happiness, gave a new life and spirit not only to my behaviour and discourse, but also a certain grace to all my actions in the commerce of life, in all things however remote from love. You know the predominant passion spreads itself through all a man's transactions, and exalts or depresses him according to the nature of such a passion. But, alas! I have not yet begun my story, and what is making sentences and observations when a man is pleading for his life? To begin, then. This lady has corresponded with me under the names of love; she my Belinda, I her Cleanthes. Though I am thus well got into the account of my affair, I cannot keep in the thread of it so much as to give you the character of Mrs. Jane, whom I will not hide under a borrowed name; but let you know, that this creature has been since I knew her, very handsome (though I will not allow her even "she has been " for the future,) and during the time of her bloom and beauty, was so great a tyrant to her lovers, so overvalued herself and underrated all her pretenders, that they have deserted |