fects which they produce in the minds of oth ers. The Egyptians, who made use of hieroglyphics to signify several things, expressed a I am apt to flatter myself, that, in the course man who confined his knowledge and discoof these my speculations, I have treated of se- veries altogether within himself by the figure veral subjects, and laid down many such rules of a dark lantern closed on all sides; which, for the conduct of a man's life, which my rea- though it was illuminated within, afforded no ders were either wholly ignorant of before, or manner of light or advantage to such as which at least those few who were acquainted stood by it. For my own part, as I shall with them looked upon as so many secrets they from time to time communicate to the public have found out for the conduct of them- whatever discoveries I happen to make, I selves, but were resolved never to have made should much rather be compared to an orpublic. dinary lamp, which consumes and wastes itI am the more confirmed in this opinion self for the benefit of every passenger. from my having received several letters, I shall conclude this paper with the story wherein I am censured for having prostitut-of Rosicrusius's sepulchre. I suppose I need ed learning to the embraces of the vulgar, not inform my readers that this man was the and made her, as one of my correspondents author of the Rosicrusian sect, and that his phrases it, a common strumpet. I am charg-disciples still pretend to new discoveries, ed by another with laying open the arcana which they are never to communicate to the or secrets of prudence to the eyes of every rest of mankind.* reader. power. A certain person having occasion to dig The narrow spirit which appears in the let-somewhat deep in the ground, where this phiters of these my correspondents is the less losopher lay interred, met with a small door, surprising, as it has shown itself in all ages: having a wall on each side of it. His curiothere is still extant an epistle written by Alex-sity, and the hopes of finding some hidden ander the Great to his tutor Aristotle, upon treasure, soon prompted him to force open that philosopher's publishing some part of his the door. He was immediately surprised by writings; in which the prince complains of a sudden blaze of light, and discovered a very his having made known to all the world fair vault. At the upper end of it was a stathose secrets in learning which he had be-tue of a man in armour, sitting by a table, fore communicated to him in private lec- and leaning on his left arm. He held a truntures; concluding, that he had rather ex-cheon in his right hand, and had a lamp burncel the rest of mankind in knowledge than in ing before him. The man had no sooner set one foot within the vault, than the statue Louisa de Padilla, a lady of great learning, erected itself from its leaning posture, stood and countess of Aranda, was in like manner bolt upright, and, upon the fellow's advancing angry with the famous Gratian, upon his pub- another step, lifted up the truncheon in his lishing his treatise of the Discreto, wherein right hand. The man still ventured a third, she fancied that he had laid open those max-step, when the statue, with a furious blow, ims to common readers, which ought only to broke the lamp into a thousand pieces, and have been reserved for the knowledge of the left his guest in a sudden darkness. great. Upon the report of this adventure, the These objections are thought by many of country people soon came with lights to the so much weight, that they often defend the sepulchre, and discovered that the statue, above-mentioned authors by affirming they which was made of brass, was nothing more have affected such an obscurity in their style than a piece of clock-work; that the floor of and manner of writing, that, though every the vault was all loose, and underlaid with one may read their works, there will be but several springs, which, upon any man's envery few who can comprehend their meaning. tering, naturally produced that which had Persius, the Latin satirist, affected obscu- happened.' rity for another reason with which, how Rosicrusius, says his disciples, made use of ever, Mr. Cowley is so offended, that, writing this method to show the world that he had to one of his friends, You,' says he, tell re-invented the ever burning lamps of the me, that you do not know whether Persius ancients, though he was resolved no one be a good poet or no, because you cannot un- should reap any advantage from the discoderstand him; for which very reason I affirm very. that he is not so.' Rivalem patienter habe. X. Ovid. Ars. Am. ii. 538. With patience bear a rival in thy love. However, this art of writing unintelligibly No. 380.] Friday, May 16, 1712. has been very much improved, and followed by several of the moderns, who, observing the general inclination of mankind to dive into a secret, and the reputation many have acquired by concealing their meaning under obscure terms and phrases, resolve, that they may be still more abstruse, to write without THE character you have in the world any meaning at all. This art, as it is at of being the ladies' philosopher, and the pretpresent practised by many eminent authors, ty advice I have seen you give to others in consists in throwing so many words at a venture into different periods, and leaving the curious reader to find the meaning of them. SIR Thursday, May 8, 1712. * See Comte de Gabalís, par l'Abbé Villars Warburton's Pope, vol. 1. p. 109, 12mo. 'Sir, MR. SPECTATOR, 'J. S.' May the 5th. 'The conversation at a club of which I am your papers, make me address myself to you If you will not pretend to tell us the motives in this abrupt manner, and to desire your that bring such trifles to solemn assemblies, opinion of what in this age a woman may call yet let me desire that you will give this letter a lover. I have lately had a gentleman that a place in your paper, and I shall remain, I thought made pretensions to me, insomuch that most of my friends took notice of it, and thought we were really married. I did not take much pains to undeceive them, and especially a young gentlewoman of my particular acquaintance, who was then in the country. She coming to town, and seeing a member last night falling upon vanity and our intimacy so great, she gave herself the the desire of being admired, put me in mind liberty of taking me to task concerning it: I of relating how agreeably I was entertained ingenuously told her we were not married, at my own door last Thursday, by a clean but I did not know what might be the event. fresh-coloured girl, under the most elegant She soon got acquainted with the gentleman, and the best furnished milk-pail I had ever and was pleased to take upon her to examine observed. I was glad of such an opportunity him about it. Now, whether a new face had of seeing the behaviour of a coquette in low made a greater conquest than the old I will life, and how she received the extraordinary leave you to judge. I am informed that he notice that was taken of her: which I found utterly denied all pretensions to courtship, had affected every muscle of her face in the but withall professed a sincere friendship for same manner as it does the features of a firstme; but, whether marriages are proposed by rate toast at a play or in an assembly. This way of friendship or not, is what I desire to hint of mine made the discourse turn upon know, and what I may really call a lover? the sense of pleasure; which ended in a geThere are so many who talk in a language fit neral resolution, that the milk-maid enjoys only for that character, and yet guard them- her vanity as exquisitely as the woman of selves against speaking in direct terms to the quality. I think it would not be an improper point, that it is impossible to distinguish be- subject for you to examine this frailty, and tween courtship and conversation. I hope trace it to all conditions of life; which is reyou will do me justice both upon my lover commended to you as an occasion of obliging and my friend, if they provoke me further. In many of your readers, among the rest, Your most humble servant, the mean time I carry it with so equal a behaviour, that the nymph and the swain too are mightily at a loss: each believes I, who know them both well, think myself revenged in their love one to another, which creates an irreconcilable jealousy. If all comes right again, you shall hear further from, 'Sir, 'Your most obedient servant, SIR, 'T. B.' May 12, 1712. Coming last week into a coffee-house not far from the Exchange, with my basket under my arm, a Jew of considerable note, as I am informed, takes half a dozen oranges of me, and at the same time slides a guinea into my hand; I made him a courtesy, and went my way. He followed me, and, finding I was MR. SPECTATOR, April 28, 1712. going about my business, he came up with 'Your observations on persons that have me, and told me plainly that he gave me the behaved themselves irreverently at church. I guinea with no other intent but to purchase doubt not have had a good effect on some that my person for an hour. "Did you so, Sir ?" have read them; but there is another fault says I; "you gave it me then to make me which has hitherto escaped your notice, I wicked; I will keep it to make me honest. mean of such persons as are there very zea- however, not to be in the least ungrateful, I lous and punctual to perform an ejaculation promise you I will lay it out in a couple of that is only preparatory to the service of the rings, and wear them for your sake." I am church, and yet neglect to join in the service so just, Sir, besides, as to give every body that itself. There is an instance of this in a asks how I came by my rings this account of friend of Will Honeycomb's, who sits oppo- my benefactor; but to save me the trouble site to me. He seldom comes in till the pray-of telling my tale over and over again, I humers are about half over; and when he has en- bly beg the favour of you to tell it once for all, tered his seat (instead of joining with the and you will extremely oblige, congregation) he devoutly holds his hat before his face for three or four moments, then bows to all his acquaintance, sits down, takes a pinch of snuff (if it be the evening service, perhaps takes a nap) and spends the remain- Tis a great deal of pleasure to me, and I ing time in surveying the congregation. dare say will be no less satisfactory to you, Now, Sir, what I would desire is, that you that I have an opportunity of informing you, would animadvert a little on this gentleman's that the gentleman and others of the parish practice. In my opinion, this gentleman's of St. Bride's have raised a charity-school of devotion, cap in hand, is only a compliance fifty girls, as before of fifty boys. You were to the custom of the place, and goes no far- so kind to recommend the boys to the charither than a little ecclesiastical good-breeding. table world; and the other sex hope you will SIR, 'BETTY LEMON. Your humble servant, St. Bride's, May 15, 1712. do them the same favour in Friday's Spectator | creation which are poured about him, and for Sunday next, when they are to appear with does not feel the full weight of those accidentheir humble airs at the parish church of Saint tal evils which may befall him, Bride's. Sir, the mention of this may possibly be serviceable to the children; and sure no one will omit a good action attended with no expense.' 'I am, Sir, If we consider him in relation to the persons whom he converses with, it naturally produces love and good-will towards him. A cheerful mind is not only disposed to be affable and obliging; but raises the same good-humour in those who come within its influence. A man finds himself pleased, he does not know why, with the cheerfulness of his companion. It is like a sudden sunshine that awakens a secret delight in the mind, without her attending to it The heart rejoices of its own accord, and naturally flows out into friendship and benevolence towards the person who has so kindly an effect upon it. When I consider this cheerful state of mind in its third relation, I cannot but look upon it as a constant habitual gratitude to the great Author of nature. An inward cheerfulness is an implicit praise and thanksgiving to Providence under all its dispensations. It is a kind of acquiescence in the state wherein we are placed, and a secret approbation of the divine will in his conduct towards man. I HAVE always preferred cheerfulness to mirth. The latter I consider as an act, the former as an habit of the mind. Mirth is short and transient, cheerfulness fixed and There are but two things which, in my opinpermanent. Those are often raised into the ion, can reasonably deprive us of this cheergreatest transports of mirth, who are subject fulness of heart. The first of these is the sense to the greatest depressions of melancholy. On of guilt. A mau who lives in a state of vice the contrary, cheerfulness, though it does not and impenitence can have no title to that give the mind such an exquisite gladness, pre- evenness and tranquillity of mind which is the vents us from falling into any depths of sorrow. health of the soul and the natural effect of Mirth is like a flash of lightning, that breaks virtue and innocence. Cheerfulness in an ill through a gloom of clouds, and glitters for a man deserves a harder name than language moment; cheerfulness keeps up a kind of can furnish us with, and is many degrees beday-light in the mind, and fills it with a steady yond what we commonly call folly or inadness. and perpetual serenity. Atheism, by which I mean a disbelief of a Men of austere principles look upon mirth Supreme Being, and consequently of a future as too wanton and dissolute for a state of pro-state, under whatsoever titles it shelters itself, bation, and as filled with a certain triumph may likewise very reasonably deprive a man and insolence of heart that is inconsistent with of this cheerfulness of temper. There is somea life which is every moment obnoxious to the thing so particularly gloomy and offensive to greatest dangers Writers of this complexion human nature in the prospect of non-existence, have observed, that the Sacred Person who that I cannot but wonder, with many excellent was the great pattern of perfection was never writers, how it is possible for a man to outlive seen to laugh. the expectation of it. For my own part, I Cheerfulness of mind is not liable to any of think the being of a God is so little to be these exceptions; it is of a serious and com-doubted, that it is almost the only truth we posed nature; it does not throw the mind into are sure of; and such a truth as we meet with a condition improper for the present state of in every object, in every occurrence, and in humanity, and is very conspicious in the characters of those who are looked upon as the greatest philosophers among the heathens, as well as among those who have been deservedly esteemed as saints and holy men among Christians. every thought. If we look into the characters of this tribe of infidels, we generally find they are made up of pride, spleen, and cavil. It is indeed no wonder, that men who are uneasy to themselves should be so to the rest of the world; and how is it possible for a man to be If we consider cheerfulness in three lights, otherwise than uneasy in himself, who is in with regard to ourselves, to those we converse danger every moment of losing his entire exwith, and to the great Author of our being, it istence and dropping into nothing? will not a little recommend itself on each of The vicious man and atheist have therefore these accounts. The man who is possessed of no pretence to cheerfulness, and would act this excellent frame of mind, is not only easy very unreasonably should they endeavour after in his thoughts, but a perfect master of all the it. It is impossible for any one to live in good powers and faculties of his soul. His imagi- humour, and enjoy his present existence, who nation is always clear, and his judgment un-is apprehensive either of torment or of annihidisturbed; his temper is even and unruffled, lation; of being miserable, or of not being at all. whether in action or in solitude. He comes with relish to all those goods which nature has provided for him, tastes all the pleasures of the After having mentioned these two great principles, which are destructive of cheerfulness, in their own nature, as well as in right reason, I cannot think of any other that ought but I dare say I have given him time to add to banish this happy temper from a virtuous practice to profession. He sent me some time mind. Pain and sickness, shame and reproach, ago a bottle or two of excellent wine, to drink poverty and old age, nay death itself, consi-the health of a gentleman who had by the dering the shortness of their duration, and the penny-post advertised him of an egregious advantage we may reap from them, do not de- error in his conduct. My correspondent reserve the name of evils. A good mind may ceived the obligation from an unknown hand bear up under them with fortitude, with indo- with the candour which is natural to an ingelence, and with cheerfulness of heart. The nuous mind; and promises a contrary behatossing of a tempest does not discompose him, viour in that point for the future. He will which he is sure will bring him to a joyful offend his monitor with no more errors of harbour. that kind, but thanks him for his benevo A man who uses his best endeavours to live lence. This frank carriage makes me reflect according to the dictates of virtue and right upon the amiable atonement a man makes in reason has two perpet al sources of cheerful- an ingenuous acknowledgment of a fault. All ness, in the consideration of his own nature, such miscarriages as flow from inadvertency and of that Being on whom he has a depend- are more than repaid by it; for reason, though ence. If he looks into himself, he cannot but not concerned in the injury, employs all its force rejoice in that existence which is so lately be- in the atonement. He that says, he did not destowed upon him, and which, after millions sign to disoblige you in such an action, does as of ages, will be still new, and still in its be- much as if he should tell you, that though the ginning. How many self-congratulations na- circumstance which displeased was never in his turally rise in the mind, when it reflects on thoughts, he has that respect for you, that he this its entrance into eternity, when it takes is unsatisfied till it is wholly out of yours. It a view of those improvable faculties which in must be confessed, that when an acknowledga few years, and even at its first setting out, ment of an offence is made out of poorness of have made so considerable a progress, and spirit, and not conviction of heart, the circumwhich will still be receiving an increase of stance is quite different. But in the case of perfection, and consequently an increase of my correspondent, where both the notice is happiness! The consciousness of such a be- taken, and the return made in private, the ing spreads a perpetual diffusion of joy affair begins and ends with the highest grace through the soul of a virtuous man, and makes on each side. To make the acknowledgment him look upon himself every moment as more of a fault in the highest manner graceful, it happy than he knows how to conceive. is lucky when the circumstances of the offen The second source of cheerfulness, to a der place him above all consequences from good mind, is the consideration of that Be- the resentment of the person offended. A dauing on whom we have our dependence, and phin of France, upon a review of the army, in whom, though we behold him as yet but and a command of the king to alter the posture in the first faint discoveries of his perfections, of it by a march of one of the wings, gave an we see every thing that we can imagine as improper order to an officer at the head of a great, glorious, or amiable. We find our- brigade, who told his highness, he presumed selves every where upheld by his goodness, he had not received the last orders, which were and surrounded with an immensity of love to move a contrary way. The prince, instead and mercy. In short, we depend upon a Be- of taking the admonition, which was delivered ing, whose power qualifies him to make us in a manner that accounted for his error with happy by an infinity of means, whose good-safety to his understanding, shaked a cane at ness and truth engage him to make those the officer, and, with the return of opprobrious happy who desire it of him, and whose un- language, presisted in his own orders. The changeableness will secure us in this happi- whole matter came necessarily before the king, ness to all eternity. who commanded his son, on foot, to lay his Such considerations, which every one should right hand on the gentleman's stirrup as he sat perpetually cherish in his thoughts, will ba- on horseback in sight of the whole army, and nish from us all that secret heaviness of ask his pardon. When the prince touched his heart which unthinking men are subject to stirrup, and was going to speak, the officer, when they lie under no real affliction: all with an incredible agility, threw himself on the that anguish which we may feel from any earth, and kissed his feet. evil that actually oppresses us, to which I The body is very little concerned in the bay likewise add those little cracklings of pleasure or suffering of souls truly great; and mirth and folly that are apter to betray vir- the reparation, when an honour was designed tue than support it; and establish in us such this soldier, appeared as much too great to be an even and cheerful temper, as makes us borne by his gratitude, as the injury was intopleasing to ourselves, to those with whom we lerable to his resentment. converse, and to Him whom we were made to please. I. When we turn our thoughts from these extraordinary occurrences into commou life, we see an ingenuous kind of behaviour not only make up for faults committed, but in a manner expiate them in the very commision. Thus many things wherein a man has pressed too far, he implicitly excuses, by owning, 'This is confidence; I a trespass: you'll pardon uy 100 Criminibus depent hortos. Juv. Sat. i. 75. am sensible I have no pretensions to this fa- No 383.] Tuesday, May 20, 1712. vour;' and the like. But commend me to those gay fellows about town who are directly impuA beauteous garden, but by vice maintain'd. dent, and make up for it no otherwise than by calling themselves such, and exulting in it. As I was sitting in my chamber, and thinkBut this sort of carriage, which prompts a mav against rules to urge what he has a mind to, is ing on a subject for my next Spectator, I heard pardonable only when you sue for another. two or three irregular bounces at my landlaWhen you are confident in preference of your-dy's door, and upon the opening of it, a loud self to others of equal merit, every man that cheerful voice inquiring whether the philosoloves virtue and modesty ought, in defence of pher was at home. The child who went to the those qualities, to oppose you. But, without door answered very innocently, that he did not considering the morality of the thing, let us at lodge there. I immediately recollected that it this time behold any natural consequence of was my good friend sir Roger's voice; and that I had promised to go with him on the wacandour when we speak of ourselves. The Spectator writes often in an elegant, ofter to Spring-garden,* in case it proved a good ten in an argumentative, and often in a sub- evening. The knight put me in mind of my lime style, with equal success; but how would promise from the bottom of the staircase, but it hurt the reputed author of that paper to own, told me, that if I was speculating, he would that of the most beautiful pieces under his title stay below till I had done. Upon my coming he is barely the publisher? There is nothing down, I found all the children of the family but what a man really performs can be an ho- got about my old friend; and my landlady nour to him; what he takes more than he ought herself, who is a notable prating gossip, engain the eye of the world, he loses in the convic-ged in a conference with him; being mightily tion of his own heart; and a man must lose his pleased with his stroking her little boy on the consciousness, that is, his very self, before he head, and bidding him to be a good child and can rejoice in any falsehood without inward mind his book. mortification. We were no sooner come to the TempleWho has not seen a very criminal at the stairs, but we were surrounded with a crowd bar, when his counsel and friends have done of watermen, offering us their respective serall that they could for him in vain, prevail on vices. Sir Roger, after having looked about the whole assembly to pity him, and his judge him very attentively, spied one with a wooden to recommend his case to the mercy of the leg, and immediately gave him orders to get As we were walking towards throne, without offering any thing new in his his boat ready. defence, but that he, whom before we wished it, 'You must know,' says sir Roger, I never convicted, became so out of his own mouth, make use of any body to row me, that has I would raand took upon himself all the shame and sor-not either lost a leg or an arm. row we were just before preparing for him?ther bate him a few strokes of his oar thad The great opposition to this kind of candour not employ an honest man that has been arises from the unjust idea people ordinarily wounded in the queen's service. If I was a have of what we call a high spirit. It is far lord or a bishop, and kept a barge, I would from greatness of spirit to persist in the wrong not put a fellow in my livery that had not a in any thing; nor is it a diminution of great- wooden leg.' My old friend, after having seated himself, ness of spirit to have been in the wrong. Perfection is not the attribute of man, therefore and trimmed the boat with his coachman, who, he is not degraded by the acknowledgement being a very sober man, always serves for balof an imperfection; but it is the work of little last on these occasions, we made the best of minds to imitate the fortitude of great spirits our way for Vauxhall. Sir Roger obliged the on worthy occasions, by obstinacy in the wrong-waterman to give us the history of his right This obstinacy prevails so far upon them, that leg; and, hearing that he had left it at La they make it extend to the defence of faults in Hogue, with many particulars which passed in their very servants. It would swell this paper that glorious action, the knight, in the triumph to too great a length should I insert all the of his heart, made several reflections on the quarrels and debates which are now on foot in greatness of the British nation; as, that one this town; where one party, and in some cases Englishman could beat three Frenchmen ; both, is sensible of being on the faulty side, that we could never be in danger of popery so and have not spirit enough to acknowledge it. long as we took care of our fleet; that the Thames was the noblest river in Europe; that Among the ladies the case is very common; for there are very few of them who know that London bridge was a greater piece of work it is to maintain a true and high spirit, to throw than any of the seven wonders of the world; away from it all which itself disapproves, and with many other honest prejudices which nato scorn so pitiful a shame, as that which dis-turally cleave to the heart of a ture Englishables the heart from acquiring a liberality of man. affections and sentiments. The candid mind, by acknowledging and discharging its faults, has reason and truth for the foundations of all its passions and desires, and consequently is happy and simple; the disengenuous spirit, by indulgence of one unacknowledged error, is entangled with an after-life of guilt, sorrow, and perplexity. T. After some short pause, the old knight turning about hts head twice or thrice, to take a survey of this great metropolis, bid me observe how thick the city was set mith churches, and that there was scarce a single steeple on this *Or Vauxhall. |