Being who delights in an humble mind, and by several of his dispensations seems purposely to show us that our own schemes, or prudence, have no share in our advance ments. Since on this subject I have already admitted several quotations, which have occurred to my memory upon writing this paper, I will conclude it with a little Persian fable. A drop of water fell out of a cloud into the sea, and finding itself lost in such an immensity of fluid matter, broke out into the following reflection: Alas! what an inconsiderable creature am I in this prodigious ocean of waters.* My existence is of no concern to the universe; I am reduced to a kind of nothing, and am less than the least of the works of God.' It so happened that an oyster, which lay in the neighbourhood of this drop, chanced to gape and swallow it up in the midst of this its humble soliloquy. The drop, says the fable, lay a great while hardening in the shell, until by degrees it was ripened into a pearl, which falling into the hands of a diver, after a long series of adventures, is at present that famous pearl which is fixed on the top of the Persian diadem. upon the poor and needy. The fellow who escaped from a ship which struck upon a rock in the west, and joined with the coun try people to destroy his brother sailors, and make her a wreck, was thought a most execrable creature, but does not every man who enjoys the possession of what he naturally wants, and is unmindful of the unsup plied distress of other men, betray the same temper of mind? When a man looks about him, and, with regard to riches and poverty, beholds some drawn in pomp and equipage, and they, and their very servants, with an air of scorn and triumph, overlooking the multitude that pass by them; and in the same street, a creature of the same make, crying out, in the name of all that is good and sacred, to behold his misery, and give him some supply against hunger and nakedness; who would believe these two beings were of the same species? But so it is, that the consideration of fortune has taken up all our minds, and as I have often complained, poverty and riches stand in our imaginations in the places of guilt and innocence. But in all seasons there will be some instances of persons who have souls too large to be taken with popular prejudices, and while the rest of mankind are contending for superiority in power and wealth, have their thoughts bent upon the necessities of those below them. The charity schools, which have been erected of late years, are the greatest instances of public spirit the age has produced. But, indeed, when we consider how long this sort of beneficence INSOLENCE is the crime of all others has been on foot, it is rather from the good which every man is apt to rail at; and yet management of those institutions, than from there is one respect in which almost all the number or value of the benefactions to men living are guilty of it, and that is the them, that they make so great a figure. case of laying a greater value upon the gifts One would think it impossible that in the of fortune than we ought. It is here, in space of fourteen years there should not England, come into our very language, as have been five thousand pounds bestowed a propriety of distinction, to say, when we in gifts this way, nor sixteen hundred chilwould speak of persons to their advantage, dren, including males and females, put out They are people of condition. There is to methods of industry. It is not allowed no doubt but the proper use of riches im- me to speak of luxury and folly with the plies, that a man should exert all the good severe spirit they deserve; I shall only qualities imaginable: and if we mean by a therefore say, I shall very readily comman of condition or quality, one who, ac-pound with any lady in a hooped petticoat, cording to the wealth he is master of, shows himself just, beneficent, and charitable, that term ought very deservedly to be had in the highest veneration; but when wealth is used only as it is the support of pomp and luxury, to be rich is very far from being a recommendation to honour and respect. It is indeed the greatest insolence imaginable, in a creature who would feel the extremes of thirst and hunger, if he did not prevent his appetites before they call upon him, to be so forgetful of the common necessities of human nature, as never to cast an eye No. 294.] Wednesday, Feb. 6, 1711-12. secunda fortuna sit usus. Tull. ad Herennium. The man who is always fortunate, cannot easily have much reverence for virtue. *This beautiful little apologue in praise of modesty, the writer had probably read in Chardin's Travels, (vol. iii. p. 189, 4to.) The original is in the Bustan, or Garden, a work of the celebrated Persian poet Hafiz. The learned reader will find both the original and two Latin versions of it in Sir William Jones's Poeseos Asiaticæ Commentarii, p. 348–352. if she gives the price of one half yard of the silk towards clothing, feeding, and instructing an innocent helpless creature of her own sex, in one of these schools. The consciousness of such an action will give her features a nobler life on this illustrious day,* than all the jewels that can hang in her hair, or can be clustered in her bosom. It would be uncourtly to speak in harsher words to the fair, but to men, one may take a little more freedom. It is monstrous how a man can live with so little reflection, as to fancy he is not in a condition very unjust and disproportioned to the rest of mankind, While he enjoys wealth, and exerts no benevolence or bounty to others. As for this particular occasion of these schools, there * Queen Anne's birth-day, February 2. edifying to them, than that which is sold to others. Thus do they become more exalted in goodness, by being depressed in fortune, and their poverty is, in reality, their preferment." T. No. 295.] Thursday, February 7, 1711-12, But womankind, that never knows a mean, Dryden. cannot any offer more worthy a generous | learning which is given is generally more mind. Would you do a handsome thing without return; do it for an infant that is not sensible of the obligation. Would you do it for public good; do it for one who will be an honest artificer. Would you do it for the sake of heaven; give it to one who shall be instructed in the worship of Him for whose sake you give it. It is, methinks, a most laudable institution this, if it were of no other expectation than that of producing a race of good and useful servants, who will have more than a liberal, a religious education. What would not a man do in common prudence to lay out in purchase of one about him, who would add to all his orders he gave, the weight of the commandments, to enforce an obedience to them? for one who would consider his master as his father, his friend, and benefactor, upon easy terms, and in expectation of no other return but moderate wages and gentle usage? It is the common vice of children to run too much among the servants; from such as are educated in these places they would see nothing but lowliness in the servant, which would not be disingenuous in the child. All the ill offices and defamatory whispers, which take their birth from domestics, would be prevented, if this charity could be made universal: and a good man might have a knowledge of the whole life of the person he designs to take into his house for his own service, or that of his family or children, long before they were admitted. This would create endearing dependencies: and the obligation would have a paternal air in the master, who would be relieved from much care and anxiety by the gratitude and diligence of an humble friend attending him as his servant. I fall into this discourse from a letter sent to me, to give me notice that fifty boys would be clothed, and take their seats (at the charge of some generous benefactors,) in St. Bride's church, on Sunday next. I wish I could promise to myself any thing which my correspondent seems to expect from a publication of it in this paper; for there can be nothing added to what so many excellent and learned men have said on this occasion. But that there may be something here which would move a generous_mind, like that of him who wrote to me, I shall transcribe a handsome paragraph of Dr. Snape's sermon on these charities, which my correspondent enclosed with his letter, The wise Providence has amply compensated the disadvantages of the poor and indigent, in wanting many of the conveniences of this life, by a more abundant provision for their happiness in the next. Had they been higher born, or more richly endowed, they would have wanted this manner of education, of which those only enjoy the benefit who are low enough to submit to it; where they have such advantages without money, and without price, as the rich cannot purchase with it The 1 'MR. SPECTATOR,-I am turned of my great climacteric, and am naturally a man of a meek temper. About a dozen years ago, I was married, for my sins, to a young woman of a good family, and of a high spirit; but could not bring her to close with me, before I had entered into a treaty with her longer than that of the grand alliance. Among other articles, it was therein stipulated, that she should have 400l. a year for pin-money, which I obliged myself to pay quarterly into the hands of one, who acted as her plenipotentiary in that affair. I have ever since religiously observed my part in this solemn agreement. Now sir, so it is, that the lady has had several children since I married her; to which, if I should credit our malicious neighbours, her pin-money has not a little contributed. The education of these my children, who, contrary to my expectation, are born to me every year, straitens me so much, that I have begged their mother to free me from the obligation of the above-mentioned pin-money, that it may go towards making a provision for her family. This proposal makes her noble blood swell in her veins, insomuch, that finding me a little tardy in my last quarter's payment, she threatens me every day to arrest me; and proceeds so far as to tell me, that if I do not do her justice, I shall die in a jail. To this she adds, when her passion will let her argue calmly, that she has several play-debts on her hand, which must be discharged very suddenly, and that she cannot lose her money as becomes a woman of her fashion, if she makes me any abatement in this article. I hope, sir, you will take an occasion from hence to give your opinion upon a subject which you have not yet touched, and inform us if there are any precedents for this usage, among our ancestors: or whether you find any mention of pin-money in Grotius, Puffendorf, or any other of the civilians. 'I am ever the humblest of your admirers, JOSIAH FRIBBLE, Esq.' As there is no man living who is a more professed advocate for the fair sex than 3. myself, so there is none that would be more | (in the phrase of a homely proverb,) of unwilling to invade any of their ancient being 'penny wise and pound foolish. rights and privileges; but as the doctrine It is observed of over-cautious generals, of pin-money is of late date, unknown to that they never engage in a battle with our great grandmothers, and not yet re-out securing a retreat, in case the event ceived by many of our modern ladies, I should not answer their expectations; on think it is for the interest of both sexes to the other hand, the greatest conquerors keep it from spreading. have burnt their ships, or broke down the bridges behind them, as being determined either to succeed or die in the engagement. In the same manner I should very much suspect a woman who takes such precautions for her retreat, and contrives methods how she may live happily, without the affection of one to whom she joins herself for life. Separate purses between man and wife are, in my opinion, as unnatural as separate beds. A marriage cannot be happy, where the pleasures, inclinations, and interests of both parties are not the same. There is no greater incitement to love in the mind of man, than the sense of a person's depending upon him for her ease and happiness; as a woman uses all her endeavours to please the person whom she looks upon as her honour, her comfort, and her support. Mr. Fribble may not, perhaps, be much mistaken where he intimates, that the supplying a man's wife with pin-money, is furnishing her with arms against himself, and in a manner becoming accessary to his own dishonour. We may indeed, generally observe, that in proportion as a woman is more or less beautiful, and her husband advanced in years, she stands in need of a greater or less number of pins, and upon a treaty of marriage, rises or falls in her demands accordingly. It must likewise be owned, that high quality in a mistress does very much inflame this article in the marriage reckoning. But where the age and circumstances of both parties are pretty much upon a level, I cannot but think the insisting upon pinmoney is very extraordinary; and yet we find several matches broken off upon this very head. What would a foreigner, or one who is a stranger to this practice think of a lover that forsakes his mistress, because he is not willing to keep her in pins? But what would he think of the mistress, should he be informed that she asks five or six hundred pounds a year for this use? Should a man unacquainted with our customs be told the sums which are allowed in Great Britain, under the title of pin-money, what, a prodigious consumption of pins would he think there was in this island. 'A pin a day,' says our frugal proverb, is a groat a year: so that, according to this calculation, my friend Fribble's wife must every year make use of eight million six nundred and forty thousand new pins. I am not ignorant that our British ladies allege they comprehend under this general term, several other conveniences of life: I could therefore wish for the honour of my countrywomen, that they had rather call it needle-money, which might have implied something of good housewifery, and not have given the malicious world occasion to think, that dress and trifles have always the uppermost place in a woman's thoughts. For this reason I am not very much surprised at the behaviour of a rough country 'squire, who, being not a little shocked at the proceeding of a young widow that would not recede from her demands of pinmoney, was so enraged at her mercenary temper, that he told her in great wratn, As much as she thought him her slave, he would show all the world he did not care a pin for her.' Upon which he flew out of the room, and never saw her more. Socrates in Plato's Alcibiades says, he was informed by one who had travelled through Persia, that as he passed over a great tract of land, and inquired what the name of the place was, they told him it was the Queen's Girdle: to which he adds, that another wide field which lay by it, was called the Queen's Veil: and that in the same manner there was a large portion of ground set aside for every part of her majesty's dress. These lands might not be improperly called the Queen of Persia's pin-money. I remember my friend Sir Roger, who, I dare say, never read this passage in Plato, told me some time since, that upon his courting the perverse widow (of whom I I know several of my fair readers urge, have given an account in former papers) in defence of this practice, that it is but a he had disposed of a hundred acres in a necessary provision they make for them- diamond ring, which he would have preselves, in case their husband proves a sented her with, had she thought fit to churl, or a miser; so that they consider accept it: and that upon her wedding-day, this allowance as a kind of alimony, which she should have carried on her head fifty they may lay their claim to, without ac- of the tallest oaks upon his estate. He tually separating from their husbands. But further informed me, that he would have with submission, I think a woman who will given her a coal-pit to keep her in clean give up herself to a man in marriage, where linen, that he would have allowed her the there is the least room for such an appre-profits of a wind-mill for her fans, and have hension, and trust her person to one whom she will not rely on for the common necessaries of life, may very properly be accused presented her once in three years, with the shearing of his sheep for her under petticoats. To which the kight always adds, that though he did not care for fine clothes | the same opinion of me. I must own I love himself, there should not have been a woman to look at them all, one for being wellin the country better dressed than my lady Coverley. Sir Roger, perhaps may in this, as well as in many other of his devices, appear something odd and singular; but if the humour of pin-money prevails, I think it would be very proper for every gentleman of an estate, to mark out so many acres of it under the title of The Pins.' L. Add weight to trifles. DEAR SPEC,-Having lately conversed much with the fair sex on the subject of your speculations (which since their appearance in public, have been the chief exercise of the female loquacious faculty) I found the fair ones possessed with a dissatisfaction at your prefixing Greek mottos to the frontispieces of your papers; and, as a man of gallantry, I thought it a duty incumbent on me to impart it to you, in hopes of a reformation, which is only to be effected by a restoration of the Latin to the usual dignity in your papers, which, of late, the Greek, to the great displeasure of your female readers, has usurped; for though the Latin has the recommendation of being as unintelligible to them as the Greek, yet being written of the same character with their mother tongue, by the assistance of a spelling-book it is legible; which quality the Greek wants: and since the introduction of operas into this nation, the ladies are so charmed with sounds abstracted from their ideas, that they adore and honour the sound of Latin, as it is old Italian. I am a solicitor for the fair sex, and therefore think myself in that character more likely to be prevalent in this request, than if I should subscribe myself by my proper name. • J. M. 'I desire you may insert this in one of your speculations, to show my zeal for removing the dissatisfaction of the fair sex, and restoring you to their favour.' dressed, a second for his fine eye, and one Twice. 'MR. SPECTATOR,-I have for some time made love to a lady, who received it with all the kind returns I ought to expect; but without any provocation, that I know of, she has of late shunned me with the utmost abhorrence, insomuch that she went out of church last Sunday in the midst of divine service, upon my coming into the same pew. Pray, sir, what must I do in this business? Your servant, € EUPHUES.' Let her alone ten days. York, Jan. 20, 1711-12. 'MR. SPECTATOR,-We have in this town a sort of people who pretend to wit, and write lampoons; I have lately been the subject of one of them. The scribbler had not genius enough in verse to turn my age, as indeed I am an old maid, into raillery, for affecting a youthier turn than is consistent with my time of day; and therefore he makes the title of his madrigal, The character of Mrs. Judith Lovebane, born in the year 1680. What I desire of you is, that you disallow that a coxcomb, who pretends to write verse, should put the most malicious thing he can say in prose. This I humbly conceive will disable our country wits, who indeed take a great deal of pains to say any thing in rhyme, though they say it very ill. Sir, your humble servant, ་ 'SUSANNA LOVEBANE.” 'MR. SPECTATOR,-We are several of 'SIR,-I was some time since in company with a young officer, who entertained us, gentleman and ladies, who board in the same house, and after dinner one of our comus with the conquest he had made over a female neighbour of his; when a gentleman pany (an agreeable man enough otherwise) who stood by, as I suppose, envying the cap- We are the civilest people in the world to stands up, and reads your paper to us all. tain's good fortune, asked him what reason he had to believe the lady admired him? one another, and therefore I am forced to "Why," says he, "my lodgings are oppothis way of desiring our reader, when he is site to her's, and she is continually at her doing this office, not to stand afore the fire. window, either at work, reading, taking this cold weather. He will, I know, take This will be a general good to our family, snuff, or putting herself in some toying it to be our common request when he comes posture on purpose to draw my eyes that to these words, "Pray, sir, sit down;" which way. The confession of this vain soldier made me reflect on some of my own acI desire you to insert, and you will particu tions; for you must know, sir, I am often larly oblige your daily reader, at a window which fronts the apartments of several gentlemen, who I doubt not have 'CHARITY FROST,' 'SIR,-I am a great lover of dancing, but cannot perform so well as some others; | I have taken some pains in a former paper however, by my out-of-the-way capers, to show, that this kind of implex fable, and some original grimaces, I do not fail wherein the event is unhappy, is more apt to divert the company, particularly the ladies, who laugh immoderately all the time. Some, who pretend to be my friends tell me that they do it in derision, and would advise me to leave it off, withal that I make myself ridiculous. I do not know what to do in this affair, but I am resolved not to give over upon any account, until I have the opinion of the Spectator. Your humble servant, JOHN TROTT.' to affect an audience than that of the first kind; notwithstanding many excellent pieces among the ancients, as well as most of those which have been written of late years in our own country are raised upon contrary plans. I must however own, that I think this kind of fable, which is the most perfect in tragedy, is not so proper for a heroic poern. Milton seems to have been sensible of this imperfection in his fable, and has therefore endeavoured to cure it by several expedients; particularly by the mortification which the great adversary of mankind meets with upon his return to the assembly of infernal spirits, as it is described in a beautiful passage of the third book; and likewise by the vision wherein Adam, at the close of the poem, sees his offspring, triumphing over his great enemy, and him No. 297.] Saturday, February 9, 1711-12. self restored to a happier paradise than that from which he fell. -velut si Egregio inspersos reprendas corpore nævos. As perfect beauties somewhere have a mole.--Creech. AFTER What I have said in my last Saurday's paper, I shall enter on the subject of this without further preface, and remark the several defects which appear in the fable, the characters, the sentiments, and the language of Milton's Paradise Lost; not doubting but the reader will pardon me, if I allege at the same time whatever may be said for the extenuation of such defects. The first imperfection which I shall observe in the fable is, that the event of it is unhappy. The fable of every poem is, according to Aristotle's division, either simple or implex. It is called simple when there is no change of fortune in it; implex, when the fortune of the chief actor changes from bad to good, or from good to bad. The implex fable is thought the most perfect: I suppose, because it is more proper to stir up the passions of the reader, and to surprise him with a greater variety of accidents. The implex fable is therefore of two kinds: in the first, the chief actor makes his way through a long series of dangers and difficulties, until he arrives at honour and prosperity, as we see in the stories of Ulysses and Æneas; in the second, the chief actor in the poem falls from some eminent pitch of honour and prosperity, into misery | and disgrace. Thus we see Adam and Eve sinking from a state of innocence and happiness, into the most abject condition of sin and sorrow. The most taking tragedies among the ancients, were built on this last sort of implex fable, particularly the tragedy of Edipus, which proceeds upon a story, if we may believe Aristotle, the most proper for tragedy that could be invented by the wit of man. There is another objection against Milton's fable, which is indeed almost the same with the former, though placed in a different light, namely-That the hero in the Paradise Lost is unsuccessful, and by no means a match for his enemies. This gave occasion to Mr. Dryden's reflection, that the devil was in reality Milton's hero. I think I have obviated this objection in my first paper. The Paradise Lost is an epic, or a narrative poem, and he that looks for a hero in it, searches for that which Milton never intended; but if he will needs fix the name of a hero upon any person in it, it is certainly the Messiah who is the hero, both in the principal action, and in the chief episodes. Paganism could not furnish out a real action for a fable greater than that of the Iliad or Æneid, and therefore a heathen could not form a higher notion of a poem than one of that kind, which they call a heroic. Whether Milton's is not of a sublimer nature I will not presume to determine: it is sufficient that I show there is in the Paradise Lost all the greatness of plan, regularity of design, and masterly beauties which we discover in Homer and Virgil. I must in the next place observe, that Milton has interwoven in the texture of his fable some particulars which do not seem to have probability enough for an epic poem, particularly in the actions which he ascribes to Sin and Death, and the picture which he draws of the Limbo of Vanity,' with other passages in the second book. Such allegories rather savour of the spirit of Spencer and Ariosto, than of Homer and Virgil. In the structure of his poem he has likewise admitted too many digressions. It is finely observed by Aristotle, that the author of a heroic poem should seldom speak himself, but throw as much of his work as |