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The diversions of the fallen angels, with this quotation. He will likewise observe the particular account of their place of how naturally the three persons concerned nabitation, are described with great preg-in this allegory are tempted by one comnancy of thought, and copiousness of in- mon interest to enter into a confederacy tovention. The diversions are every way gether, and how properly Sin is made the suitable to beings who had nothing left portress of hell, and the only being that can them but strength and knowledge misap-open the gates to that world of tortures. plied. Such are their contentions at the race and in feats of arms, with their entertainment in the following lines:

Others with vast Typhæan rage more fell
Rend up both rocks and hills, and ride the air
In whirlwind, hell scarce holds the wild uproar.

Their music is employed in celebrating their own criminal exploits, and their discourse in sounding the unfathomable depths of fate, free-will, and foreknowledge.

The several circumstances in the description of hell are finely imagined; as the four rivers which disgorge themselves into the sea of fire, the extremes of cold and heat, and the river of oblivion. The monstrous animals produced in that infernal world are represented by a single line, which gives us a more horrid idea of them than a much longer description would have done:

Nature breeds,

Perverse, all monstrous, all prodigious things,
Abominable, inutterable, and worse
Than fables yet have feign'd, or fear conceiv'd,
Gorgons and hydras, and chimeras dire.

This episode of the fallen spirits and their place of habitation, comes in very happily to unbend the mind of the reader from its attention to the debate. An ordinary poet would indeed have spun out so many circumstances to a great length, and by that means have weakened, instead of illustrated the principal fable.

The flight of Satan to the gates of hell is finely imaged.

I have already declared my opinion of the allegory concerning Sin and Death, which is, however, a very finished piece in its kind, when it is not considered as a part of an epic poem. The genealogy of the several persons is contrived with great delicacy. Sin is the daughter of Satan, and Death the offspring of Sin. The incestuous mixture between Sin and Death produces those monsters and hell-hounds which from time to time enter into their mother, and tear the bowels of her who gave them birth.

These are the terrors of an evil conscience, and the proper fruits of Sin, which naturally rise from the apprehensions of Death. This last beautiful moral is, I think, clearly intimated in the speech of Sin, where, complaining of this her dreadful issue, she adds:

Before mine eyes in opposition sits

Grim Death, my son and foe, who sets them on,
And me his parent would full soon devour,
For want of other prey, but that he knows
His end with mine involv'd.-

I need not mention to the reader the beautiful circumstance in the last part of

The descriptive part of this allegory is likewise very strong, and full of sublime ideas. The figure of Death, the_regal crown upon his head, his menace of Satan, his advancing to the combat, the outcry at his birth, are circumstances too noble to be to this king of terrors. I need not mention past over in silence, and extremely suitable the justness of thought which is observed in the generation of these several symbothe first revolt of Satan, that Death appersons; that Sin was produced upon peared soon after he was cast into hell, and that the terrors of conscience were con ceived at the gate of this place of torments. The description of the gates is very poetical, as the opening of them is full of Milton's spirit:

lical

-On a sudden open fly

With impetuous recoil and jarring sound Th' infernal doors, and on their hinges grate Harsh thunder, that the lowest bottom shook Of Erebus. She open'd, but to shut Excell'd her pow'r; the gates wide open stood, That with extended wings a banner'd host Under spread ensigns marching might pass through With horse and chariots rank'd in loose array; So wide they stood, and like a furnace mouth Cast forth redounding smoke and ruddy flame. In Satan's voyage through the chaos there are several imaginary persons described, as residing in that immense waste of matter. This may perhaps be conformable to the taste of those critics who are pleased with nothing in a poet which has not life and manners ascribed to it; but for my own part, I am pleased most with those passages in this description which carry in them a greater measure of probability, and are such as might possibly have happened. Of this kind is his first mounting in the smoke that rises from the infernal pit, his falling into a cloud of nitre, and the like combustible materials, that by their explosion still hurried him forward in his voyage; his springing upward like a pyramid of fire, with his laborious passage through that confusion of elements which the poet calls

The womb of nature, and perhaps her grave.

chaos from the utmost verge of the creaThe glimmering light which shot into the tion, with the distant discovery of the earth that hung close by the moon, are wonderfully beautiful and poetical.

L.

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heartily; and my father and mother were
for it a great while, but now they say I can
do better; but I think I cannot. They bid
ine not love him, and I cannot unlove him.
What must I do? Speak quickly.
BIDDY DOW-BAKE.'

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Feb. 19, 1712.

able regard to you, but as it is, I beg we
may be strangers for the future. Adieu.
'LYDIA.'

as follows, which I hope you will approve; for you are to know the woman's family affect a wonderful ease on these occasions, though they expect it should be painfully received on the man's side.

This great indifference on this subject, and the mercenary motives for making alliances, is what I think lies naturally before you, and I beg of you to give me your • DEAR SPEC, I have loved a lady en-thoughts upon it. My answer to Lydia was tirely for this year and a half, though for a great part of the time (which has contributed not a little to my pain) I have been debarred the liberty of conversing with her. The grounds of our difference was this; that when we had enquired into each other's circumstances, we found that at our first setting out into the world, we should first setting out into the world, we should owe five hundred pounds more than her fortune would pay off. My estate is seven hundred pounds a-year, besides the benefit of tin mines. Now, dear Spec, upon this state of the case, and the lady's positive declaration that there is still no other objection, I beg you will not fail to insert this, with your opinion, as soon as possible, whether this ought to be esteemed a just cause or impediment why we should not be joined; and you will for ever oblige yours sincerely, 'DICK LOVESICK.'

'POSTSCRIPT.

Sir, if I marry this lady by the assistance of your opinion, you may expect a favour for it.

knew the prudence of your house so well,
'MADAM,-I have received yours, and
that I always took care to be ready to obey
your commands, though they should be to
see you no more. Pray give my service to
all the good family. Adieu.
· CLITOPHON,
The opera subscription is full.'

MEMORANDUM.

letter and report the common usages on The censor of marriage to consider this such treaties, with how many pounds or acres are generally esteemed sufficient reason for preferring a new to an old pretender; with his opinion what is proper to be determined in such cases for the future. See No. 308, let. 1.

'MR. SPECTATOR,-There is an elderly 'MR. SPECTATOR,-I have the misfor-person lately left off business and settled in tune to be one of those unhappy men whe own, in order, as he thinks, to retire are distinguished by the "ame of discarded | from the world; but he has brought with lovers; but I am the less mortified at my him such an inclination to tale-bearing, disgrace, because the young lady is one of that he disturbs both himself and all our those creatures who set up for negligence | neighbourhood. Notwithstanding this frailof men, are forsooth the most rigidly virtu- ty, the honest gentleman is so happy as to ous in the world, and yet their nicety will have no enemy: at the same time he has permit them at the command of parents to not one friend who will venture to acquaint go to bed to the most utter stranger that him with his weakness. It is not to be can be proposed to them. As to me myself, doubted, but if this failing were set in a proI was introduced by the father of my mis- per light, he would quickly perceive the tress; but find I owe my being at first re- indecency and evil consequences of it. ceived to a comparison of my estate with Now, sir, this being an infirmity which 1 that of a former lover, and that I am now hope may be corrected, and knowing that in like manner turned off to give way to an he pays much deference to you, I beg that humble servant still richer than I am. when you are at leisure to give us a specuWhat makes this treatment the more ex-lation on gossiping, you would think of my travagant is, that the young lady is in the management of this way of fraud, and obeys her father's orders on those occasions without any manner of reluctance, but does it with the same air that one of your men of the world would signify the necessity of affairs for turning another out of office. When I came home last night, I found this letter from my mistress:

❝SIR,—I hope you will not think it is any manner of disrespect to your person or merit, that the intended nuptials between us are interrupted. My father says he has a much better offer for me than you can make, and has ordered me to break off the treaty between us. If it had proceeded, I should have behaved myself with all suit

neighbour. You will hereby oblige several who will be glad to find a reformation in their grey-haired friend: and how becoming will it be for him, instead of pouring forth words at all adventures, to set a watch before the door of his mouth, to refrain his tongue, to check its impetuosity, and guard against the sallies of that little pert, forward, busy person; which, under member of society! In compliance with a sober conduct, might prove a useful those intimations, I have taken the liberty to make this address to you. I am, sir, your

most obscure servant,

PHILANTHROPOS.'

'MR. SPECTATOR,-This is to petition you in behalf of myself, and many more of

your gentle readers, that at any time when you may have private reasons against letting us know what you think yourself, you would be pleased to pardon us such letters of your correspondents as seem to be of no use but to the printer.

It is further our humble request, that you would substitute advertisements in the place of such epistles; and that in order hereunto Mr. Buckley may be authorized to take up of your zealous friend Mr. Charles Lillie, any quantity of words he shall from time to time have occasion for. 'The many useful parts of knowledge which may be communicated to the public this way, will, we hope, be a consideration in favour of your petitioners. And your petitioners, &c.'

Note.-That particular regard be had to this petition; and the papers marked letter R may be carefully examined for the fu

ture.

T.

No. 311.] Tuesday, February 26, 1711-12.
Nec Veneris pharetris macer est, aut lampade fervet:

Inde faces ardent, veniunt a dote sagittæ.

Juv. Sat, vi. 137.

He sighs, adores, and courts her ev'ry hour:
Who would not do as much for such a dower?

Dryden.

la

fore my house more than once this winter. My kinswoman like wise informs me that the girl has talked to her twice or thrice of a gentleman in a fair wig, and that she loves to go to church more than ever she did in her life. She gave me the slip about a week ago, upon which my whole house was in alarm. I immediately despatched a hue and cry after her to the 'Change. to her mantua-maker, and to the young dies that visit her; but after above an hour's search she returned of herself, having been taking a walk, as she told me, by Rosa mond's pond. I have hereupon turned off her woman, doubled her guards, and given new instructions to my relation, who, to give her her due, keeps a watchful eye over all her motions. This, sir, keeps me often watch when my daughter sleeps, as I in perpetual anxiety, and makes me very am afraid she is even with me in her turn. Now, sir, what I would desire of you is, to represent to this fluttering tribe of young fellows, who are for making their fortunes by these indirect means, that stealing a man's daughter for the sake of her portion, is but a kind of a tolerated robbery; and that they make but a poor amends to the father, whom they plunder after this manner, by going to bed with his child. Dear sir, be speedy in your thoughts on this sub ject, that, if possible, they may appear before the disbanding of the army. I am, sir, your most humble servant,

TIM WATCHWELL.'

Themistocles, the great Athenian general, being asked whether he would rather choose to marry his daughter to an indigent man of merit, or to a worthless man of an estate, replied, that he should prefer a man without an estate to an estate without a man. The worst of it is, our modern for

that way, because they are good for nothing else. If a young fellow finds he can make nothing of Coke and Littleton he provides himself with a ladder of ropes, and by that means very often enters upon the pre

'MR. SPECTATOR,-I am amazed that, among all the variety of characters with which you have enriched your speculations, you have never given us a picture of those audacious young fellows among us who commonly go by the name of the fortunestealers. You must know, sir, I am one who live in a continual apprehension of this sort of people, that lie in wait, day and night for our children, and may be considered as a kind of kidnappers within the law. I am the father of a young heiress, whom I be-tune-hunters are those who turn their heads gin to look upon as marriageable, and who has looked upon herself as such for above these six years. She is now in the eighteenth year of her age. The fortune-hunters have already cast their eyes upon her, and take care to plant themselves in her view when-mises. ever she appears in any public assembly. I have myself caught a young jackanapes, with a pair of silver-fringed gloves, in the very fact. You must know, Sir, I have kept her as a prisoner of state, ever since she was in her teens. Her chamber windows are cross-barred; she is not permitted to go out of the house but with her keeper, who is a staid relation of my own; I have likewise forbid her the use of pen and ink, for this twelvemonth last past, and do not suffer a band-box to be carried into her room before it has been searched. Notwithstanding these precautions, I am at my wit's end, for fear of any sudden surprise. There were, two or three nights ago, some fiddles heard in the street, which I am afraid portend me no good: not to mention a tall Irishman, that has been seen walking be

The same art of scaling has likewise been practised with good success by many military engineers. Stratagems of this nature make parts and industry superfluous, and cut short the way to riches.

Nor is vanity a less motive than idleness to this kind of mercenary pursuit. A fop, who admires his person in a glass, soon enters into a resolution of making his fortune by it, not questioning but every wo man that falls in his way will do him as much justice as he does himself. When an heiress sees a man throwing particular graces into his ogle, or talking loud within her hearing, she ought to look to herself; but if withal she observes a pair of red heels, a patch, or any other particularity in his dress, she cannot take too much care of her person. These are baits not to be

Quod huic officium, quæ laus, quod decus erit tanti, quod adipisci cum dolore corporis velit, qui dolorem summum malum sibi persuaserit? Quam porro quis ignominium, quam turpitudinem non pertulerit, ut effugiat dolorem, si id summum malum esse decreverit.

Tully.

ifled with, charms that have done a world | No. 312.] Wednesday, Feb. 27, 1711-12. execution, and made their way into hearts which have been thought impregnable. The force of a man with these qualifications is so well known, that I am credibly informed there are several female undertakers about the 'Change, who, upon the arrival of a likely man out of a neighbouring kingdom, will furnish him with a proper dress from head to foot, to be paid for at a double price on the day of marriage.

We must, however, distinguish between fortune-hunters and fortune-stealers. The first are those assiduous gentlemen who employ their whole lives in the chase, without ever coming to the quarry. Suffenus has combed and powdered at the ladies for thirty years together; and taken his stand in a side-box, until he has grown wrinkled under their eyes. He is now laying the same snares for the present generation of beauties, which he practised on their mothers. Cottilus, after having made his application to more than you meet with in Mr. Cowley's ballad of mistresses, was at last smitten with a city lady of 20,000l. sterling; but died of old age before he could bring matters to bear. Nor must I here omit my worthy friend Mr. Honeycomb, who has often told us in the club, that for twenty years successively upon the death of a childless rich man, he immediately drew on his boots, called for his horse, and made up to the widow. When he is rallied upon his ill success, Will, with his usual gaiety, tells us, that he always found her pre-engaged.

Widows are indeed the great game of your fortune-hunters. There is scarce a young fellow in the town of six foot high that has not passed in review before one or other of these wealthy relicts. Hudibras's Cupid, who

Took his stand

Upon a widow's* jointure land,'

is daily employed in throwing darts and kindling flames. But as for widows, they are such a subtle generation of people, that they may be left to their own conduct; or if they make a false step in it, they are answerable for it to nobody but themselves. The young innocent creatures who have no knowledge and experience of the world, are those whose safety I would principally consult in this speculation. The stealing of such an one should, in my opinion, be as punishable as a rape. Where there is no judgment there is no choice; and why the inveigling a woman before she comes to years of discretion should not be as criminal as the seducing of her before she is ten years old, I am at a loss to comprehend.

What duty, what praise, or what honour will he think worth enduring bodily pain for, who has persuaded himself that pain is the chief evil? Nay, to what ignominy, to what baseness, will he not stoop, to avoid pain, if he has determined it to be the chief evil?

Ir is a very melancholy reflection, that men are usually so weak, that it is absolutely necessary for them to know sorrow and pain; to be in their right senses. Pros perous people (for happy there are none, are hurried away with a fond sense of their present condition, and thoughtless of the mutability of fortune. Fortune is a term which we must use, in such discourses as these, for what is wrought by the unseen hand of the Disposer of all things. But methinks the disposition of a mind which is truly great, is that which makes misfortunes and sorrows little when they befal ourselves, great and lamentable when they befal other men. The most unpardonable malefactor in the world going to his death, and bearing it with composure, would win the pity of those who should behold him; and this not because his calamity is deplorable, but because he seems himself not to deplore it. We suffer for him who is less sensible of his own misery, and are inclined to despise him who sinks under the weight of his distresses. On the other hand, without any touch of envy, a temperate and well-governed mind looks down on such as are exalted with success, with a certain shame for the imbecility of human nature, that can so far forget how liable it is to calamity, as to grow giddy with only the suspense of sorrow, which is the portion of all men. He therefore who turns his face from the unhappy man, who will not look again when his eye is cast upon modest sorrow, who shuns affliction like a contagion, does but pamper himself up for a sacrifice, and contract in himself a greater aptitude to misery by attempting to escape it. A gen tleman, where I happened to be last night, fell into a discourse which I thought showed a good discerning in him. He took notice,

that whenever men have looked into their

heart for the idea of true excellence in huin suffering after a right manner, and with man nature, they have found it to consist a good grace. Heroes are always drawn bearing sorrows, struggling with adversities, undergoing all kinds of hardships, and having, in the service of mankind, a kind of appetite to difficulties and dangers. The gentleman went on to observe, that it is from this secret sense of the high merit which there is in patience under calamities, that the writers of romances when

* See Grey's edit. of Hudibras, vol. 1. part i. canto iii. they attempt to furnish out characters of

v 212, 213.

the highest excellence, ransack nature for

things terrible; they raise a new creation | ticularly performing the public service with of monsters, dragons, and giants; where a due zeal and devotion; I am the more enthe danger ends the hero ceases: when he couraged to lay before them by your means, has won an empire or gained his mistress, several expressions used by some of them the rest of his story is not worth relating. in their prayers before sermon, which I am My friend carried his discourse so far as to not well satisfied in. As their giving some say, that it was for higher beings than men titles and epithets to great men, which are to join happiness and greatness in the same indeed due to them in their several ranks idea; but that in our condition we have no and stations, but not properly used, I think, conception of superlative excellence, or he- in our prayers. Is it not contradiction to roism, but as it is surrounded with a shade say, illustrious, right reverend, and right of distress. honourable poor sinners? These distinc tions are suited only to our state here, and have no place in heaven; we see they are omitted in the Liturgy: which, I think, the clergy should take for their pattern in their own forms of devotion.* There is another expression which I would not mention, but that I have heard it several times before a learned congregation, to bring in the last petition of the prayer in these words, "O let not the Lord be angry, and I will speak but this once;" as if there was no difference between Abraham's interceding for Sodom, for which he had no warrant, as we can find, and our asking those things which we are required to pray for; they would therefore have much more reason to fear his anger, if they did not make such petitions to him. There is another pretty fancy: when a young man has a mind to let us know who gave him his scarf, he speaks a parenthesis to the Almighty. "Bless, as I am in duty bound to pray, the right honourable the countess;" is not that as much as to say, "Bless her, for thou knowest I am her chaplain?" Your humble servant, 'J. O.'

T.

It is certainly the proper education we should give ourselves to be prepared for the ill events and accidents we are to meet with in a life sentenced to be a scene of sorrow; but instead of this expectation, we soften ourselves with prospects of constant delight, and destroy in our minds the seeds of fortitude and virtue, which should support us | in hours of anguish. The constant pursuit of pleasure has in it something insolent and improper for our being. There is a pretty sober liveliness in the ode of Horace to Delius, where he tells him, loud mirth, or immoderate sorrow, inequality of behaviour, either in prosperity or adversity, are alike ungraceful in man, that is born to die. Moderation in both circumstances is peculiar to generous minds. Men of that sort ever taste the gratifications of health, and all other advantages of life, as if they were liable to part with them, and when bereft of them, resign them with a greatness of mind which shows they know their value and duration. The contempt of pleasure as to say, The contempt of pleasure is a certain preparatory for the contempt of pain. Without this the mind is, as it were, taken suddenly by an unforeseen event; but he that has always, during health and prosperity, been abstinent in No. 313.] Thursday, Feb. 28, 1711-12. his satisfactions, enjoys, in the worst of difficulties, the reflection, that his anguish is not aggravated with the comparison of past pleasures which upbraid his present condition. Tully tells us a story after Pompey, which gives us a good taste of the pleasant manner the men of wit and philosophy had in old times, of alleviating the distresses of life by the force of reason and philosophy. Pompey, when he came to Rhodes, had a curiosity to visit the famous philosopher Possidonius; but finding him in his sick bed, he bewailed the misfortune that he should not hear a discourse from him: But you may,' answered Possidonius; and immediately entered into the point of stoical philosophy, which says, pain is not an evil. During the discourse, upon every puncture he felt from his distemper, he smiled and cried out, Pain, pain, be as impertinent and troublesome as you please, I shall never own that thou art an evil.'

.

'MR. SPECTATOR,-Having seen in several of your papers a concern for the honour of the clergy, and their doing every thing as becomes their character, and par

Exigite ut mores teneros seu pollice ducat
Ut si quis cera vultum facit

Juv. Sat. vii. 237

Bid him besides his daily pains employ,
To form the tender manners of the boy,
And work him, like a waxen babe, with art,
To perfect symmetry in ev'ry part.-Ch. Dryden.

I SHALL give the following letter no other recommendation than by telling my

* In the original folio edition of this paper, there was the following passage, after the above sentence.

[Another expression which I take to be improper, is all men; for race signifies lineage or descent; and if this, the whole race of mankind,' when they pray for the race of mankind may be used for the present gene ration, (though, I think, not very fitly) the whole race I do not remember to have met with that expression, in takes in all from the beginning to the end of the world. their sense, any where but in the old version of Psalm xiv, which those men, I suppose, have but little esteem for. And some, when they have prayed for all schools and nurseries of good learning and true religion, espe cially the two universities, add these words, 'Grant that from them, and all other places dedicated to thy worship and service, may come forth such persons,' &c. But what do they mean by all other places? It seems to me, that this is either a tautology, as being the same with all schools and nurseries before expressed, or else it the divine service, which cannot properly be intended runs too far; for there are several places dedicated to here.]

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