Swear, that none e'er had such a graceful art,
Fortune's free gifts as freely to impart,,

he was at the least pains to look for them. One would think it was the dæmon of good thoughts

that discovered to him those treasures, which he must have blinded others from seeing, they

With an unenvious hand, and an unbounded heart. Never did Atticus succeed better in gaining the universal love and esteem of all men; nor lay so directly in their way. Nothing can steer with more success between the extremes equal the pleasure that is taken in bearing him of two contending parties. 'Tis his peculiar speak, but the satisfaction one receives in the happiness that, while he espouses neither with civility and attention he pays to the discourse an intemperate zeal, he is not only admired, of others. His looks are a silent commendabut, what is a more rare and unusual felicity, he tion of what is good and praise-worthy, and a is beloved and caressed by both; and I never secret reproof of what is licentious and extrayet saw any person, of whatever age or sex, vagant. He knows how to appear free and but was immediately struck with the merit of open without danger of intrusion, and to be Manilius. There are many who are accepta- cautious without seeming reserved. The grable to some particular persons, whilst the rest vity of his conversation is always enlivened of mankind look upon them with coldness and with his wit and humour, and the gaiety of it indifference; but he is the first whose entire is tempered with something that is instructive, good fortune it is ever to please and to be pleased, wherever he comes to be admired, and wherever he is absent to be lamented. His merit fares like the pictures of Raphael, which are either seen with admiration by all, or at least no one dare own he has no taste for a composition which has received so universal an applause. Envy and malice find it against their interest to indulge slander and obloquy. 'Tis as hard for an enemy to deThere is in his whole carriage such an entract from, as for a friend to add to, his gaging softness, that one cannot persuade one's praise. An attempt upon his reputation is self he is ever actuated by those rougher pasa sure lessening of one's own; and there is sions, which, wherever they find place, selbut one way to injure him which is to refuse dom fail of showing themselves in the outhim his just commendations, and be obstinate-ward demeanour of the persons they belong ly silent. to: but his constitution is a just temperature

as well as barely agreeable. Thus, with him you are sure not to be merry at the expense of your reason, nor serious with the loss of your good humour; but by a happy mixture of his temper, they either go together, or perpetually succeed each other. In fine, his whole behaviour is equally distant from constraint and negligence, and he commands your respect, whilst he gains your heart.

It is below him to catch the sight with any between indolence on one hand, and violence care of dress; his outward garb is but the em- on the other. He is mild and gentle, whereblem of his mind. It is genteel, plain and un-ver his affairs will give him leave to follow affected; he knows that gold and embroidery his own inclinations; but yet never failing can add nothing to the opinion which all have to exert himself with vigour and resolution of his merit, and that he gives a lustre to the in the service of his prince, his country, or his plainest dress, whilst 'tis impossible the richest friend should communicate any to him. He is still

the principal figure in the room. He first en- No 468.] Wednesday, August 27 1712.
gages your eye, as if there were some point of
light which shone stronger upon him than on
any other person.

Z.

Erat homo ingeniosus, acutus acer, et qui plurimum et salis, haberet et fellis, nec candoris minus.-Plin. Epist.

He was an ingenious, pleasant fellow, and one who had a great deal of wit and satire, with an equal share of good-humour.

He puts me in mind of a story of the famous Bussy d'Amboise, who, at an assemby at court, where every one appeared with the utmost magnificence, relying upon his own superior beha- My paper is, in a kind, a letter of news, but viour, instead of adorning himself like the rest. it regards rather what passes in the world of put on that day a plain suit of clothes, and conversation than that of business. I am very dressed all his servants in the most costly gay sorry that I have at present a circumstance behabits he could procure. The event was, that fore me, which is of very great importance to the eyes of the whole court were fixed upon all who have a relish for gaiety, wit, mirth, or him; all the rest looked like his attendants, humour; I mean the death of poor Dick Eastwhile he alone had the air of a person of quali-court. I have been obliged to him for so many ty and distinction.

hours of jollity, that it is but a small recomLike Aristippus, whatever shape or condition pense, though all I can give him, to pass a mehe appears in, it still sits free and easy upon him; ment or two in sadness for the loss of so agreebut in some part of his character, 'tis true, he able a man. Poor Eastcourt! the last time I differs from him; for as he is altogether equal saw him, we were plotting to show the town to the largeness of his present circumstances, his great capacity for acting in its ful! light, by the rectitude of his judgment has so far cor-introducing him as dictating to a set of young rected the inclinations of his ambition, that he players, in what manner to speak this sentence will not trouble himself with either the desires and utter t'other passion. He had so exquisite or pursuits of any thing beyoud his present eu-a discerning of what was defective in any objoyments. ject before him, that in an instant he could A thousand obliging things flow from him show you the ridiculous side of what would upon every occasion; and they are always so pass for beautiful and just, even to men of no just and natural, that it is impossible to think ill judgment, before he had pointed at the

failure. He was no less skilful in the know-he gave of persons and sentiments, he did not ledge of beauty; and, I dare say, there is no only hit the figure of their faces, and manner one who knew him well, but can repeat more of their gestures, but he would in his narration well-turned compliments as well as smart re-fall into their very way of thinking, and this partees of Mr. Eastcourt's, than of any other when he recounted passages wherein men of man in England. This was easily to be ob- the best wits were concerned, as well as such served in his inimitable faculty of telling a wherein were represented men of the lowest story, in which he would throw in natural and rank of understanding. It is certainly as great unexpected incidents to make his court to one an instance of self-love to a weakness, to be part, and rally the other part of the company. impatient of being mimicked, as any can be Then he would vary the usage he gave them, imagined. There was none but the vain, the according as he saw them bear kind or sharp formal, the proud, or those who were incapable language. He had the knack to raise up a of amending their faults, that dreaded him; to pensive temper, and mortify an impertinent- others he was in the highest degree pleasing: ly gay one, with the most agreeable skill and I do not know any satisfaction of any inimaginable. There are a thousand things different kind I ever tasted so much, as having which crowd into my memory, which make got over an impatience of my seeing myself in me too much concerned to tell on about him. the air he could put me when I have displeasHamlet holding up the skull which the grave-ed him. It is indeed to his exquisite talent digger threw to him, with an account that it this way, more than any philosophy I could was the head of the king's jester, falls into read on the subject, that my person is vevery pleasing reflections, and cries out to his ry little of my care, and it is indifferent to companion, me what is said of my shape, my air, my manner, my speech, or my address. It is to poor Eastcourt I chiefly owe that I am arrived at the happiness of thinking nothing a diminution to me, but what argues a depravity of my will.

Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio: a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy; be hath borne me on his back a thousand times: and now how abhorred in my imagination it is! my gorge rises at it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft. It has as much surprised me as any thing Where be your gibes now, your gambols, in nature, to have it frequently said, that he your songs, your flashes of merriment, that was not a good player: but that must be were wont to set the table on a roar? Not owing to a partiality for former actors in one now to mock your own grinning? quite the parts in which he succeeded them, and chop-fallen? Now get you to my lady's cham-judging by comparison of what was liked beber, and tell her, let her paint an inch thick, to fore, rather than by the nature, of the thing. this favour she must come. Make her laugh at that.'

When a man of his wit and smartness could put on an utter absence of common sense in his face, as he did in the character of Bullfinch, in the Northern Lass, and an air of insipid cunning and vivacity in the character of Pounce in The Tender Husband, it is folly to dispute his capacity and success, as he was an actor.

It is an insolence natural to the wealthy, to affix, as much as in them lies, the character of a man to his circumstances. Thus it is ordinary with them to praise faintly the good qualities of those below them, and say, it is very extraordinaay in such a man as he is, or the like, when they are forced to acknowledge the Poor Eastcourt let the vain and proud be value of him whose lowness upbraids their ex-at rest, thou wilt no more disturb their adaltation. It is to this humour only, that it is miration of their dear selves; and thou art no to be ascribed, that a quick wit in conversation, longer to drudge in raising the mirth of stua nice judgment upon any emergency that pids, who know nothing of thy merit, for thy could arise, and a most blameless inoffensive maintenance. behaviour, could not raise this man above being received only upon the foot of contributing to mirth and diversion. But he was as easy under that condition, as a man of so excellent talents was capable; and since they would have it, that to divert was his business, he did it with all the seeming alacrity imaginable, though it stung him to the heart that it was his business. Men of sense, who could taste bis excellencies, were well satisfied to let him lead the way in conversation, and play after his own manner; but fools, who provoked him to mimickry, found he had the indignation to But I must grow more succinct, and as a let it be at their expense who called for it, and Spectator, give an account of this extraordihe would show the form of conceited heavy nary man, who, in his way, never had an equal fellows as jests to the company at their own in any age before him, or in that wherein he request in revenge for interrupting him from lived. I speak of him as a companion, and a being a companion to put on the character of man qualified for conversation. His fortune a jester. exposed him to an obsequiousness towards the What was peculiarly excellent in this me-worst sort of company, but his excellent qualimorable companion, was, that in the accounts ties rendered him capable of making the best

It is natural for the generality of mankind to run into reflections upon our mortality, when disturbers of the world are laid at rest, but to take no notice when they who can please and divert are pulled from us. But for my part, I cannot but think the loss of such talents as the man of whom I am speaking was master of, a more melancholy instance of mortality than the dissolution of persons of never so high characters in the world, whose pretensions were that they were noisy and mischievous.

figure in the most refined. I have been pre-fulates himself in all his proceedings by justice sent with him among men of the most delicate and equity, he finds a thousand occasions for taste a whole night, and have known him (for all the good-natured offices of generosity and he saw it was desired) keep the discourse to compassion.

himself the most part of it, and maintain his A man is unfit for such a place of trust, whe good-humour with a countenance, in a lan-is of a sour untractable nature, or has any guage so delightful, without offence to any other passion that makes him uneasy to those person or thing upon earth, still preserving the who approach him. Roughness of temper is distance his circumstances obliged him to; apt to discountenance the timorous or modest. say, I have seen him do all this in such a The proud man discourages those from apcharming manner, that I am sure none of proaching him, who are of a mean condition, those I hint at will read this, without giving and who most want his assistance. The imhim some sorrow for their abundant mirth, patient man will not give himself time to be inand one gush of tears for so many bursts of formed of the matter that lies before him. An laughter. I wish it were any honour to the officer, with one or more of these unbecoming pleasant creature's memory, that my eyes are qualities, is sometimes looked upon as a protoo much suffused to let me go on per person to keep off impertinence and solicitation from his superior; but this is a kind of merit that can never atone for the injustice which may very often arise from it.

T.

The following severe passage in this number of the Spectator in folio, apparently levelled at Dr. Radcliffe, was suppressed in all the subsequent editions:

It is a felicity his friends may rejoice in, that he had his senses, and used them as he ought to do, in his last

moments. It is remarkable that his judgment was in its

There are two other vicious qualities, which render a man very unfit for such a place of calm perfection to the utmost article; for when his wife trust. The first of these is a dilatory temper, out of her fondness, desired she might send for a certain which commits innumerable cruelties without illiterate humourist (whom he had accompanied in a design. The maxim which several have laid fools think he assumes from conscious merit,) he answer-down for a man's conduct in ordinary life, ed, "Do what you please, but he won't come near me." should be inviolable with a man in office, Let poor Eastcourt's negligence about this message con- Never to think of doing that to-morrow which vince the unwary of a triumphant empiric's ignorance and inhumanity.

thousand mirthful moments, and whose insolence makes

No. 469.] Thursday, August 28, 1712.

Detrahere aliquid alteri, et hominem hominis incom modo suum augere commodum, magis est contra naturam, quam mors, quam paupertas, quam dolor, quan cætera quæ possunt aut corpori accidere, aut rebus externis.

Tull.

may be done to-day. A man who defers doing what ought to be done, is guilty of injustice so long as he defers it. The despatch of a good office is very often as beneficial to the solicitor as the good office itself. In short, if a man compared the inconveniences which another suffers by his delays, with the trifling motives and advantages which he himself may reap by them, he would never be guilty of a fault which very often does an irreparable prejudice to the person who depends upon him, and which might be remedied with little trou

To detract any thing from another, and for one man to multiply his own conveniencies by the inconveniencies of another, is more against nature than death, than poverty, than pain, and the other things which can befall the body ble to himself.

or external circumstances.

But in the last place, there is no man so imI AM persuaded there are few men, of ge-proper to be employed in business, as he who nerous principles, who would seek after great is in any degree capable of corruption; and places, were it not rather to have an opportu- such a one is the man who, upon any pretence nity in their hands of obliging their particular whatsoever, receives more than what is the friends, or those whom they look upon as men stated and unquestioned fee of his office. Gratof worth, than to procure wealth and honourifications, tokens of thankfulness, despatch for themselves. To an honest mind, the best money, and the like specious terms, are the perquisites of a place are the advantages it pretences under which corruption very fregives a man of doing good. quently shelters itself. An honest man will Those who are under the great officers of however look on all these methods as unjustistate, and are the instruments by which they fiable, and will enjoy himself better in a modeact, have more frequent opportunities for the rate fortune, that is gained with honour and exercise of compassion and benevolence, than reputation, than in an overgrown estate that is their superiors themselves. These men know cankered with the acquisitions of rapine and every little case that is to come before the exaction. Were all our offices discharged with great man, and, if they are possessed of honest such an inflexible integrity, we should not see ninds, will consider poverty as a recommen-men in all ages, who grow up to exorbitant dation in the person who applies himself to wealth, with the abilities which are to be met them, and make the justice of his cause the with in an ordinary mechanic, I cannot but most powerful solicitor in his behalf. A man think that such a corruption proceeds chiefly of this temper, when he is in a post of busi- from men's employing the first that offer themness, becomes a blessing to the public. He selves, or those who have the character of patronises the orphan and the widow, assists shrewd worldly men, instead of searching out the friendless, and guides the ignorant. He such as have had a liberal education, and dave does not reject the person's pretensions, who been trained up in the studies of knowledge does not know how to explain them, or refuse and virtue.

doing a good office for a man because he can- It has been observed, that men of learning not pay the fee of it. In short, though he reg-who take to business, discharge it genarally

with greater honesty than men of the world. edition, with the several various readings The chief reason for it I take to be as follows. which I find of it in former editions, and in anA man that has spent his youth in reading, cient manuscripts. Those who cannot relish the has been used to find virtue extolled, and vice various readings, will perhaps find their acstigmatized. A man that has passed his time count in the song, which never before appearin the world, has often seeu vice triumphant, ed in print. and virtue discountenanced Extortion, rapine and injustice, which are branded with infamy in books, often give a man a figure in the world; while several qualities, which are celebrated in authors, as generosity, ingenuity, and good-nature, impoverish and ruin him. This cannot but have a proportionable effect on men whose tempers and principles are equally good and vicious.

There would be at least this advantage in employing men of learning and parts in business; that their prosperity would sit more gracefully on them, and that we should not see many worthless persons shot up into the greatest figures of life.

0.

Mart. Epig. Ixxxvi. Lib. 2. 9.

"Tis folly only, and defect of sense,
Turns trifles into things of consequence.

'My love was fickle once and changing,
Nor e'er would settle in my heart;
From beauty still to beauty ranging,
In ev'ry face I found a dart.

Twas first a charming shape enslav'd me;
An eye then gave the fatal stroke:
Till by her wit Corinna sav'd me.
And all my former fetters broke.

But now a long and lasting anguish
For Belvidera I endure;

Hourly I sigh, and hourly languish,

Nor hope to find the wonted cure.
'For here the false unconstant lover,
After a thousand beauties shown,
Does new surprising charms discover,
And finds variety in one.'

Various Readings.

Stanza the first, verse the first. And changing.] The and in some manuscripts is written thus, &; but that in the Cotton library writes it in three distinct letters.

Verse the second. Nor e'er would.] Aldus reads it ever would; but as this would hurt the metre, we have restored it to the genuine reading, by observing that synæresis which had been neglected by ignorant transcribers.

Ibid. In my heart.] Scaliger and others, on my heart.

I HAVE been very often disappointed of late years, when, upon examining the new edition of a classic author, I have found above half the volume taken up with various readings. When I have expected to meet with a learned note Verse the fourth. I found a dart.] The upon a doubtful passage in a Latin poet, Vatican manuscript for I reads it; but this have only been informed, that such or such an- must have been the hallucination of the trancient manuscripts for an et write an ac, or of scriber, who probably mistook the dash of the some other notable discovery of the like im- I for a T. portance. Indeed, when a different reading Stanza the second, verse the second. The gives us a different sense or a new elegance in fatal stroke.] Scioppius, Salmasius, and many an author, the editor does very well in taking others, for the read a: but I have stuck to the notice of it; but when he only entertains us usual reading. with the several ways of spelling the same word, and gathers together the various blunders and mistakes of twenty or thirty different transcribers, they only take up the time of the learned readers, and puzzle the minds of the ignorant. I have often fancied with myself Stanza the third, verse the first. A long how enraged an old Latin author would be, and lasting anguish.] The German manushould be see the several absurdities, in sense script reads a lasting passion, but the rhyme and grammar, which are imputed to him by will not admit it. some or other of these various readings. In Verse the second. For Belvidera I endure.] one he speaks nonsense; in another makes use Did not all the manuscripts reclaim, I should of a word that was never heard of; and in-change Belvidera into Pelvidera; Pelvis being deed there is scarce a solecism in writing which used by several of the ancient comic writers the best author is not guilty of, if we may be for a looking-glass, by which means the etyat liberty to read him in the words of some mology of the word is very visible, and Pelmanuscript which the laborious editor has videra will signif a lady who often looks in thought fit to examine in the prosecution of his her glass; as indeed she had very good reawork. son, if she had all those beauties which our

Verse the third. Till by her wit.] Some manuscripts have it his wit, others your, others their wit. But as I find Corinna to be the name of a woman in other authors, I cannot ' doubt but it should be her.

I question not but the ladies and pretty fel-poet here ascribes to her. lows will be very curious to understand what Verse the third. Hourly I sigh and hourly it is that I have been hitherto talking of. languish.] Some for the word hourly read shall therefore give them a notion of this prac-daily, and others nightly; the last has great tice, by endeavouring to write after the man-authorities of its side.

ner of several persons who make an eminent Verse the fourth. The wonted cure ] The figure in the republic of letters. To this end elder Stevens reads wanted cure. we will suppose that the following song is an Stanza the fourth, verse the second. After eld ode, which I present to the public in a new a thousand beauties.] In several copies we

4

meet with a hundred beauties, by the usual fing, were he not endowed with this passion, error of the transcribers, who probably omit- which gives him a taste of those good things ted a scypher, and had not taste enough to that may possibly come into his possession. know that the word thousand was ten times a We should hope for every thing that is good,' greater compliment to the poet's mistress than says the old poet Linus, because there is noan hundred. thing which may not be hoped for, and nothing but what the gods are able to give us.' Hope quickens all the still parts of life, and keeps the mind awake in her most remiss and indolent hours. It gives habitual serenity and good humour. It is a kind of vital heat in the soul, that cheers and gladdens her, when she does not attend to it. It makes pain easy, and labour pleasant.

Verse the fourth. And finds variety in one ] Most of the ancient manuscripts have it in two. Indeed so many of them concur in this last reading, that I am very much in doubt whether it ought not to take place. There are but two reasons which incline me to the reading as I have published it: first, because the rhyme; and, secondly, because the sense is preserved by it. It might likewise proceed from the oscitancy of transcribers, who, to despatch their work the sooner, used to write all numbers in cypher, and seeing the figure followed by a little dash of the pen, as is customary in old manuscripts, they perhaps mistook the dash for a second figure, and, by casting up both together, composed out of them the figure 2. But this I shall leave to the learned, without determining any thing in a matter of so great uncertainty.

No. 471.] saturday, August 30, 1712.
Ἐν ἐλπίσιν χρη τους σοφος έχειν βίου.

C.

Euripid.

Beside these several advantages which rise from hope, there is another which is none of the least, and that is, its great efficacy in preserving us from setting too high a value on present enjoyments. The saying of Cæsar is very well known. When he had given away all his estate in gratuities among his friends. one of them asked what he had left for himself; to which that great man replied, ‘Hope.' His natural magnanimity hindered him from prizing what he was certainly possessed of, and turned all his thoughts upon something more valuable that he had in view. I question not but every reader will draw a moral from this story, and apply it to himself without my direction.

The wise with hope support the pains of life. THE time present seldom affords sufficient The old story of Pandora's box (which maemployment to the mind of man. Objects of ny of the learned believe was forined among pain or pleasure, love or admiration, do not the heathens upon the tradition of the fall of lie thick enough together in life to keep the man) shows us how deplorable a state they soul in constant action, and supply an imme- thought the present life, without hope. To diate exercise to its faculties. In order, there-set forth the utmost condition of misery, they fore, to remedy this defect, that the mind may tell us, that our forefather, according to the not want business, but always have materials pagan theology, had a great vessel presented for thinking, she is endowed with certain pow-him by Pandora. Upon his lifting up the lid ers, that can recall what is passed, and anti-of it, says the fable, there flew out all the cacipate what is to come. lamities and distempers incident to men, That wonderful faculty, which we call the from which, till that time, they had been al memory, is perpetually looking back, when together exempt. Hope, who had been enwe have nothing present to entertain us. It closed in the cup with so much bad company, is like those repositories in several animals instead of flying off with the rest, stuck so that were filled with stores of their former close to the lid of it, that it was shut down food, on which they may ruminate when upon her. their present pasture fails.

As the memory relieves the mind in her vacant moments, and prevents any chasms of thought by ideas of what is passed, we have other faculties that agitate and employ her for what is to come. These are the passions of hope and fear.

I shall make but two reflections upon what I have hitherto said. First, that no kind of life is so happy as that which is full of hope, especially when the hope is well grounded, and when the object of it is of an exalted kind, and in its nature proper to make the person happy who enjoys it. This proposiBy these two passions we reach forward in- tion must be very evident to those who consi to futurity, and bring up to our present der how few are the present enjoyments of thoughts objects that lie hid in the remotest the most happy man, and how insufficient to depths of time. We suffer misery and enjoy give him an entire satisfaction and acquieshappiness, before they are in being; we can cence in them.

set the sun and stars forward, or lose sight My next observation is this, that a religious of them by wandering into those retired life is that which most abounds in a wellparts of eternity, when the heavens and earth grounded hope, and such an one as is fixed on shall be no more. By the way, who can objects that are capable of making us entirely imagine that the existence of a creature is to happy. This hope in a religious man is much be circumscribed by time, whose thoughts are more sure and certain than the hope of any not? But I shall, in this paper, confine myself temporal blessing, as it is strengthened not to that particular passion which goes by the only by reason, but by faith. It has at the name of hope. same time its eye perpetually fixed on that Our actual enjoyments are so few and tran-state, which implies in the very notion of it sient, that man would be a very miserable be-the most full and complete happiness.