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sons. I was about fifteen when I took the liberty to choose for myself; and have ever since languished under the displeasure of an inexorable father, who, though he sees me happy in the best of husbands, and blessed with very fine children, can never be prevailed upon to forgive me. He was so kind to me before this unhappy accident that indeed it makes my breach of duty, in some measure, inexcusable; and at the same time creates in me such a tenderness towards him, that I love him above all things, and would die to be reconciled to him. I have thrown myself at his feet, and besought him with tears to pardon me; but he always pushes me away, and spurns me from him. I have written several letters to him, but he will neither open nor receive them. About two years ago I sent my little boy to him, dressed in a new apparel; but the child returned to me crying, because he said his grandfather would not see him, and had ordered him to be put out of his house. My mother is won over to my side, but dares not mention me to my father, for fear of provoking him. About a month ago he lay sick upon his bed, and in great danger of his life: I was pierced to the heart at the news, and could not forbear going to inquire after his health. My mother took this opportunity of speaking in my behalf: she told him, with abundance of tears, that I was come to see him, that I could not speak to her for weeping, and that I should certainly break my heart if he refused at that time to give me his blessing, and be reconciled to me. He was so far from relenting towards me, that he bid her speak no more of me, unless she had a mind to disturb him in his last moments; for, sir, you must know that he has the reputation of an honest and religious man, which makes my misfortune so much the greater. God be thanked he is since recovered: but his severe usage has given me such a blow, that I shall soon sink under it, unless I may be relieved by any impressions which the reading of this in your paper may make upon him. I am, sir, &c.'

species of brute creatures, as indeed the whole animal creation subsists by it.

This instinct in man is more general and uncircumscribed than in brutes, as being enlarged by the dictates of reason and duty. For if we consider ourselves attentively, we shall find that we are not only inclined to love those who descend from us, but that we bear a kind of ropy, or natural affection, to every thing which relies upon us for its good and preservation. Dependence is a perpetual call upon humanity, and a greater incitement to tenderness and pity, than any other motive whatsoever.

The man, therefore, who, notwithstanding any passion or resentment, can overcome this powerful instinct, and extinguish natural affection, debases his mind even below brutality; frustrates, as much as in him lies, the great design of Providence, and strikes out of his nature one of the most divine principles that is planted in it.

Among innumerable arguments which might be brought against such an unreasonable proceeding, I shall only insist on one. We make it the condition of our forgiveness that we forgive others. In our very prayers we desire no more than to be treated by this kind of retaliation. The case therefore before us seems to be what they call a case in point;' the relation between the child and father, being what comes nearest to that between a creature and its Creator. If the father is inexorable to the child who has offended, let the offence be of never so high a nature, how will he address himself to the Supreme Being, under the tender appellation of a Father, and desire of him such a forgiveness as he himself refuses to grant?

To this I might add many other religious, as well as many prudential considerations; but if the last-mentioned motive does not prevail, I despair of succeeding by any other, and shall therefore conclude my paper with a very remarkable story, which is recorded in an old chronicle published by Freher, among the writers of the German history.

Eginhart, who was secretary to Charles Of all hardnesses of heart there is none so the Great, became exceeding popular by inexcusable as that of parents towards their his behaviour in that post. His great abilichildren. An obstinate, inflexible, unfor- ties gained him the favour of his master, giving temper is odious upon all occasions; and the esteem of the whole court. Imma, but here it is unnatural. The love, tender- the daughter of the emperor, was so pleased ness, and compassion, which are apt to with his person and conversation, that she arise in us towards those who depend upon fell in love with him. As she was one of us, is that by which the whole world of life the greatest beauties of the age, Eginhart is upheld. The Supreme Being, by the answered her with a more than equal retranscendent excellency and goodness of turn of passion. They stifled their flames his nature, extends his mercy towards all for some time, under apprehension of the his works; and because his creatures have fatal consequences that might ensue. Egnot such a spontaneous benevolence, and inhart at length, resolved to hazard all, compassion towards those who are under rather than live deprived of one whom their care and protection, he has implanted his heart was so much set upon, conveyed in them an instinct, that supplies the place himself one night into the princess's apartof this inherent goodness. I have illus-ment, and knocking gently at the door, was trated this kind of instinct in former papers, admitted as a person who had something to and have shown how it runs through all the communicate to her from the emperor. He

was with her in private most part of the respondents, two of which you shall have night; but upon his preparing to go away as follows: about break of day, he observed that there had fallen a great snow during his stay with

'MR. SPECTATOR,-It is wonderful to

the princess. This very much perplexed me that among the many enormities which him, lest the prints of his feet in the snow you have treated of, you have not menmight make discoveries to the king, who tioned that of wenching, and particularly often used to visit his daughter in the morn- the ensnaring part. I mean that it is a ing. He acquainted the princess Imma thing very fit for your pen, to expose the with his fears; who, after some consulta- villany of the practice of deluding women. tions upon the matter, prevailed upon him You are to know, sir, that I myself am a to let her carry him through the snow upon woman who have been one of the unhappy her own shoulders. It happened, that the that have fallen into this misfortune, and emperor, not being able to sleep, was at that by the insinuation of a very worthless that time up and walking in his chamber, fellow who served others in the same manwhen upon looking through the window he ner, both before my ruin, and since that perceived his daughter tottering under her time. I had, as soon as the rascal left me, burden, and carrying his first minister so much indignation and resolution, as not across the snow; which she had no sooner to go upon the town, as the phrase is, but done, but she returned again with the ut- took to work for my living in an obscure most speed to her own apartment. The place, out of the knowledge of all with emperor was extremely troubled and asto- whom I was before acquainted. Inished at this accident: but resolved to It is the ordinary practice and business speak nothing of it until a proper opportu- of life, with a set of idle fellows about this nity. In the mean time, Eginhart knowing town, to write letters, send messages, and that what he had done could not be long a form appointments with little raw unthinksecret, determined to retire from court; ing girls, and leave them after possession and in order to it, begged the emperor that of them, without any mercy, to shame, inhe would be pleased to dismiss him, pre-famy, poverty, and disease. Were you to tending a kind of discontent at his not hav-read the nauseous impertinences which are ing been rewarded for his long services. The emperor would not give a direct answer to his petition, but told him he would think of it, and appointed a certain day when he would let him know his pleasure. He then called together the most faithful of his counsellors, and acquainting them with his secretary's crime, asked them their advice in so delicate an affair. The most of them gave their opinion, that the person could not be too severely punished, who had thus dishonoured his master. Upon the whole debate, the emperor declared it was his opinion, that Eginhart's punishment would rather increase than diminish the shame of his family, and that therefore he thought it the most advisable to wear out the memory of the fact, by marrying him to his daughter. Accordingly, Eginhart was called in, and acquainted by the emperor, that he should no longer have any pretence of complaining his services were not rewarded, for that the princess Imma should be given him in marriage, with a dower suitable to her quality; which was soon after performed accordingly. L.

No. 182.] Friday, September 28, 1711.
Plus aloes quam mellis habet-
Juv. Sat. vi. 180.
The bitter overbalances the sweet.

As all parts of human life come under my observation, my reader must not make uncharitable inferences from my speaking knowingly of that sort of crime which is at present treated of. He will, I hope, suppose I know it only from the letters of cor

written on these occasions, and to see the silly creatures sighing over them, it could not but be matter of mirth as well as pity. A little 'prentice girl of mine has been for some time applied to by an Irish fellow, who dresses very fine, and struts in a laced coat, and is the admiration of seamstresses who are under age in town. Ever since I have had some knowledge of the matter, I have debarred my 'prentice from pen, ink, and paper. But the other day he bespoke some cravats of me: I went out of the shop, and left his mistress to put them up in a band-box, in order to be sent to him when his man called. When I came into the shop again, I took occasion to send her away, and found in the bottom of the box written these words, “Why would you ruin a harmless creature that loves you?" Then in the lid, "There is no resisting Strephon." I searched a little further, and found in the rim of the box, "At eleven o'clock at night come in a hackney-coach at the end of our street." This was enough to alarm me; I sent away the things, and took my measures accordingly. An hour or two before the appointed time I examined my young lady, and found her trunk stuffed with impertinent letters and an old scroll of parchment in Latin, which her lover had sent her as a settlement of fifty pounds a year. Among other things, there was also the best lace I had in my shop to make him a present for cravats. I was very glad of this last circumstance, because I could very conscientiously swear against him that he had enticed my servant away, and was her accomplice in robbing me: I procured a warrant against him accordingly. Every

Ιδμον ψευδέα πολλα λέγειν ετύμοισιν ομοία,
Ιδμον δ' ευτ, εθέλωμεν, άληθες μυθησασθαι. Hesiod.
Sometimes fair truth in fiction we disguise;
Sometimes present her naked to men's eyes.

thing was now prepared, and the tender | dalous, half the fine things that have been hour of love approaching, I who had acted writ by most of the wits of the last age for myself in my youth the same senseless may be burned by the common hangman. part, knew how to manage accordingly; Harkee, Mr. Spec, do not be queer; after therefore, after having locked up my maid, having done some things pretty well, don't and not being so much unlike her in height begin to write at that _rate that no gentleand shape, as in a huddled way not to pass man can read thee. Be true to love, and for her, I delivered the bundle designed to burn your Seneca. You do not expect me be carried off, to her lover's man, who came to write my name from hence, but I am with the signal to receive them. Thus I your unknown humble, &c.' T. followed after to the coach, where, when I saw his master take them in, I cried out, Thieves! Thieves! and the constable with No. 183.] Saturday, September 29, 1711. his attendants seized my expecting lover. I kept myself unobserved until I saw the crowd sufficiently increased, and then appeared to declare the goods to be mine; and had the satisfaction to see my man of mode put into the round-house, with the FABLES were the first pieces of wit that stolen wares by him, to be produced in made their appearance in the world, and evidence against him the next morning. have been still highly valued, not only in This matter is notoriously known to be times of the greatest simplicity, but among fact; and I have been contented to save my fable of the trees is the oldest that is exthe most polite ages of mankind. Jotham's 'prentice, and to take a year's rent of this mortified lover, not to appear farther in tant, and as beautiful as any which have the matter. This was some penance; but, been made since that time. Nathan's fable sir, is this enough for villany of much more of the poor man and his lambt is likewise pernicious consequence than the trifles for more ancient than any that is extant, bewhich he was to have been indicted? Should sides the above-mentioned, and had so good not you, and all men of any parts or honour, an effect, as to convey instruction to the ear put things upon so right a foot, as that such of a king without offending it, and to bring a rascal should not laugh at the imputation the man after God's own heart to a right of what he was really guilty, and dread sense of his guilt and his duty. We find being accused of that for which he was arop in the most distant ages of Greece;

rested?

In a word, sir, it is in the power of you, and such as I hope you are, to make it as infamous to rob a poor creature of her honour as her clothes. I leave this to your consideration, only take leave (which I cannot do without sighing,) to remark to you, that if this had been the sense of mankind thirty years ago, I should have avoided a life spent in poverty and shame. I am, sir, your humble servant,

"ALICE THREADNEEDLE.’

and if we look into the very beginning of the commonwealth of Rome, we see a mutiny among the common people appeased by a fable of the belly and the limbs, attention of an incensed rabble, at a time which was indeed very proper to gain the when perhaps they would have torn to pieces any man who had preached the same doctrine to them in an open and direct manner. As fables took their birth in the very infancy of learning, they never flourished more than when learning was at its greatest height. To justify this assertion, I shall put my reader in mind of Horace, the greatest wit and critic in the Augustan age; and of Boileau, the most correct poet among the moderns; not to mention La Fontaine, who by this way of writing is come more into vogue than any other author of our times.

The fables I have here mentioned are

'Round-house, Sept. 9. MR. SPECTATOR,-I am a man of pleasure about town, but by the stupidity of a dull rogue of a justice of peace, and an insolent constable, upon the oath of an old harridan, am imprisoned here for theft, when I designed only fornication. The midnight magistrate as he conveyed me along, had you in his mouth, and said, this raised altogether upon brutes and vegetawould make a pure story for the Spectator. bles, with some of our own species mixed I hope, sir, you won't pretend to wit, and among them, when the moral hath so retake the part of dull rogues of business. quired. But besides this kind of fable, there The world is so altered of late years, that is another in which the actors are passions, there was not a man who would knock virtues, vices, and other imaginary persons down a watchman in my behalf, but I was of the like nature. Some of the ancient carried off with as much triumph as if I critics will have it, that the Iliad and Odyshad been a pick-pocket. At this rate, sey of Homer are fables of this nature; and there is an end of all the wit and humour that the several names of gods and heroes in the world. The time was when all the are nothing else but the affections of the honest whoremongers in the neighbour-mind in a visible shape and character. hood would have rose against the cuckolds in my rescue, If fornication is to be scan- Liv. Hist. lib. ii. sect. 32, &c. Florus, lib. i. e. 23.

* Judges ix. 8-15.

† 2 Sam. xii. 1-4.

Thus they tell us, that Achilles, in the first Iliad, represents anger, or the irascible part of human nature; that upon drawing his sword against his superior in a full assembly, Pallas is only another name for reason, which checks and advises him upon that occasion; and at her first appearance touches him upon the head, that part of the man being looked upon as the seat of reason. And thus of the rest of the poem. As for the Odyssey, I think it is plain that Horace considered it as one of these allegorical fables, by the moral which he has given us of several parts of it. The greatest Italian wits have applied themselves to the writing of this latter kind of fables. Spenser's Fairy-Queen is one continued series of them from the beginning to the end of that admirable work. If we look into the finest prose authors of antiquity, such as Cicero, Plato, Xenophon, and many others, we shall find that this was likewise their favourite kind of fable. I shall only farther observe upon it, that the first of this sort that made any considerable figure in the world, was that of Hercules meeting with Pleasure and Virtue; which was invented by Prodicus, who lived before Socrates, and in the first dawnings of philosophy. He used to travel through Greece by virtue of this fable, which procured him a kind reception in all the market towns, where he never failed telling it as soon as he had gathered an audience about him.

After this short preface, which I have made up of such materials as my memory does at present suggest to me, before I present my reader with a fable of this kind, which I design as the entertainment of the present paper, I must in a few words open the occasion of it.

In the account which Plato gives us of the conversation and behaviour of Socrates, the morning he was to die, he tells the following circumstance:

come into any place without being followed by the other.

It is possible, that if Plato had thought it proper at such a time to describe Socrates launching out into a discourse which was not of a piece with the business of the day, he would have enlarged upon this hint, and have drawn it out into some beautiful allegory or fable. But since he has not done it, I shall attempt to write one myself in the spirit of that divine author.

"There were two families which from the beginning of the world were as opposite to each other as light and darkness. The one of them lived in heaven, and the other in hell. The youngest descendant of the first family was Pleasure, who was the daughter of Happiness, who was the child of Virtue, who was the offspring of the gods. These, as I said before, had their habitation in heaven. The youngest of the opposite family was Pain, who was the son of Misery, who was the child of Vice, who was the offspring of the Furies. The habitation of this race of beings was in hell.

'The middle station of nature between these two opposite extremes was the earth, which was inhabited by creatures of a middle kind, neither so virtuous as the one, nor so vicious as the other, but partaking of the good and bad qualities of these two opposite families. Jupiter considering that the species, commonly called man, was too virtuous to be miserable, and too vicious to be happy; that he might make a distinction between the good and the bad, ordered the two youngest of the above-mentioned families, Pleasure, who was the daughter of Happiness, and Pain who was the son of Misery, to meet one another upon this part of nature which lay in the half way between them, having promised to settle it upon them both, provided they could agree upon the division of it, so as to share mankind between them.

When Socrates his fetters were knocked 'Pleasure and Pain were no sooner met off (as was usual to be done on the day that in their new habitation, but they immethe condemned person was to be executed) diately agreed upon this point, that Pleabeing seated in the midst of his disciples, sure should take possession of the virtuous, and laying one of his legs over the other, and Pain of the vicious part of that species in a very unconcerned posture, he began which was given up to them. But upon to rub it where it had been galled by the examining to which of them any individual iron; and whether it was to show the in- they met with belonged, they found each difference with which he entertained the of them had a right to him; for that, conthoughts of his approaching death, or (after trary to what they had seen in their old his usual manner) to take every occasion places of residence, there was no person so of philosophizing upon some useful subject, vicious who had not some good in him, nor ⚫he observed the pleasure of that sensation any person so virtuous who had not in him which now arose in those very parts of his some evil. The truth of it is, they generally leg, that just before had been so much found upon search, that in the most vicious pained by the fetter. Upon this he reflect- man Pleasure might lay claim to an huned on the nature of pleasure and pain in dredth part, and that in the most virtuous general, and how constantly they succeed man Pain might come in for at least twoone another. To this he added, that if a thirds. This they saw would occasion endman of good genius for a fable were to re-less disputes between them, unless they present the nature of pleasure and pain in could come to some accommodation. To that way of writing, he would probably this end there was a marriage proposed join them together after such a manner, between them, and at length concluded. that it would be impossible for the one to By this means it is that we find Pleasure

No. 184.]

THE SPECTATOR

and Pain are such constant yoke-fellows, and that they either make their visits together, or are never far asunder. If Pain comes into a heart he is quickly followed by Pleasure; and if Pleasure enter, you may be sure Pain is not far off.

But notwithstanding this marriage was very convenient for the two parties, it did not seem to answer the intention of Jupiter in sending them among mankind. To remedy therefore this inconvenience, it was stipulated between them by article, and confirmed by the consent of each family, that notwithstanding they here possessed the species indifferently; upon the death of every single person, if he was found to have in him a certain proportion of evil, he should be despatched into the infernal regions by a passport from Pain, there to dwell with Misery, Vice, and the Furies. Or on the contrary, if he had in him a certain proportion of good, he should be despatched into heaven by a passport from Pleasure, there to dwell with Happiness, Virtue, and the gods.'

No. 184.]

L.

On the first of that month he grew dull;
On the second, appeared drowsy;
On the third, fell a yawning;
On the fourth, began to nod;
On the fifth, dropped asleep;
On the sixth, was heard to snore;
On the seventh, turned himself in his bed;
On the eighth, recovered his former pos-

ture;

On the ninth, fell a stretching;

On the tenth, about midnight, awaked; On the eleventh, in the morning, called for a little small beer.

This account I have extracted out of the journal of this sleeping worthy, as it has been faithfully kept by a gentleman of Lincoln's-inn who has undertaken to be his historiographer. I have sent it to you, not Hart, but as it seems a very natural picture only as it represents the actions of Nicholas of the life of many an honest English genconsists of yawning, nodding, stretching, tleman, whose whole history, very often, turning, sleeping, drinking, and the like extraordinary particulars. I do not question, sir, that, if you pleased, you could put out an advertisement not unlike the abovementioned, of several men of figure; that Monday, October 1, 1711. Mr. John Such-a-one, gentleman, or Thomas Such-a-one, esquire, who slept in the -Opere in longo fas est obrepere somnum. Hor. Ars Poet. v. 360. country last summer, intends to sleep in town this winter. The worst of it is, that -Who labours long, may be allowed to sleep. WHEN a man has discovered a new vein the drowsy part of our species is chiefly of humour, it often carries him much far-made up of very honest gentlemen, who ther than he expected from it. My corre-live quietly among their neighbours, withspondents take the hint I give them, and out ever disturbing the public peace. They pursue it into speculations which I never thought of at my first starting it. This has been the fate of my paper on the match of grinning, which has already produced a second paper on parallel subjects, and brought me the following letter by the last post. I shall not premise any thing to it, farther than that it is built on matter of fact, and is as follows:

are drones without stings. I could heartily wish, that several turbulent, restless, ambítious spirits, would for a while change places with these good men, and enter themselves into Nicholas Hart's fraternity. Could one but lay asleep a few busy heads which I could name, from the first of November next to the first of May ensuing,* I question not but it would very much redound to the quiet of particular persons, as well as to the benefit of the public.

'SIR,-You have already obliged the But to return to Nicholas Hart: I beworld with a discourse upon grinning, and have since proceeded to whistling, from lieve, sir, you will think it a very extraorwhence you at length came to yawning; dinary circumstance for a man to gain his from this, I think, you may make a very livelihood by sleeping, and that rest should natural transition to sleeping. I there-procure a man sustenance as well as indusfore recommend to you for the subject of a paper the following advertisement, which about two months ago was given into every body's hands, and may be seen with some additions in the Daily Courant of August

the ninth.

"Nicholas Hart, who slept last year in
Saint Bartholomew's hospital, intends to
sleep this year at the Cock and Bottle in
Little-Britain."

Having since inquired into the matter
of fact, I find that the above-mentioned
Nicholas Hart is every year seized with a
periodical fit of sleeping, which begins upon
the fifth of August, and ends on the ele-
venth of the same month:
35

try; yet so it is, that Nicholas got last year enough to support himself for a twelvemonth. I am likewise informed that he has this year had a very comfortable nap. The poets value themselves very much for sleeping on Parnassus, but I never heard they got a groat by it. On the contrary, our friend Nicholas gets more by sleeping than he could by working, and may be more properly said, than ever Homer was, to have had golden dreams. Juvenal indeed mentions a drowsy husband who raised an estate by snoring, but then he is represented

*At that time the session of parliament usually continued from November till May.

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