A parent who forces a child of a liberal and man deserves the least indulgence imagiingenious* spirit into the arms of a clown ornable. It is said, it is soon over; that is, all a blockhead, obliges her to a crime too the mischief he does is quickly despatched, odious for a name. It is in a degree the which, I think, is no great recommendation unnatural conjunction of rational and brutal to favour. I have known one of those goodbeings. Yet what is there so common, as natured passionate men say in a mixed the bestowing an accomplished woman with company, even to his own wife or child, such a disparity? And I could name crowds such things as the most inveterate enemy who lead miserable lives for want of know- of his family would not have spoken, even ledge in their parents of this maxim. That in imagination. It is certain that quick good sense and good-nature always go sensibility is inseparable from a ready untogether. That which is attributed to fools, derstanding; but why should not that good and called good-nature, is only an inability understanding call to itself all its force on of observing what is faulty, which turns, in such occasions, to master that sudden inclimarriage, into a suspicion of every thing as nation to anger? One of the greatest souls such, from a consciousness of that inability. now in the world* is the most subject by na'MR. SPECTATOR,-I am entirely of your ture to anger, and yet so famous for a conopinion with relation to the equestrian fe- quest of himself this way, that he is the males, who affect both the masculine and and command of a man's self. To contain known example when you talk of temper feminine air at the same time; and cannot the spirit of anger, is the worthiest disc. forbear making a presentment against another order of them, who grow very nupline we can put ourselves to. When a merous and powerful; and since our lan- frivolous fellow in a passion is to him as man has made any progress this way, a guage is not very capable of good compound words, I must be contented to call contemptible as a froward child. It ought them only "the naked-shouldered." These quiet and peace. When he stands comto be the study of every man, for his own beauties are not contented to make lovers bustible and ready to flame upon every thing wherever they appear, but they must make that touches him, life is as uneasy to himrivals at the same time. Were you to see self as it is to all about him. Syncropius Gatty walk the Park at high mall, you leads, of all men living, the most ridiculous would expect those who followed her and life; he is ever offending and begging parthose who met her would immediately draw don. If his man enters the room without their swords for her. I hope, sir, you will what he was sent for That blockhead, provide for the future, that women may begins he-Gentlemen, I ask your parfor-That stick to their faces for doing any farther mischief, and not allow any but direct tra- plates are laid, they are thrown into the don, but servants now-a-days'-The wrong ders in beauty to expose more than the middle of the room: his wife stands by in fore-part of the neck, unless you please to allow this after-game to those who are very answers as if he had heard all she was pain for him, which he sees in her face, and defective in the charms of the countenance. thinking:-'Why? what the devil! Why I can say, to my sorrow, the present prac- don't you take care to give orders in these tice is very unfair, when to look back is things? His friends sit down to a tasteless death; and it may be said of our beauties, as a great poet did of bullets, plenty of every thing, every minute expecting new insults from his impertinent passions. In a word, to eat with, or visit Syncropius, is no other than going to see him exercise his family, exercise their patience, and his own anger. They kill and wound, like Parthians, as they fly." 'I submit this to your animadversion; and am, for the little while I have left, your humble servant, the languishing PHILANTHUS. It is monstrous that the shame and con fusion in which this good-natured angry man must needs behold his friends, while he thus lays about him, does not give him so much reflection as to create an amendment. This is the most scandalous disuse of reason imaginable; all the harmless part of him is no more than that of a bull-dog, they are tame no longer than they are not offended. One of these good-natured angry men shall, in an instant, assemble together so many allusions to secret circumstances, as are enough to dissolve the peace of all the families and friends he is acquainted with, in a quarter of an hour, and yet the next moment be the best natured man in the world. If you would see passion in its purity, without mixture of reason, behold * Lord Somers. it represented in a mad hero, drawn by a | lost, and I know not to whom I lent it, it is mad poet. Nat. Lee makes his Alexander say thus: 'Away! begone! and give a whirlwind room, so many years ago.' Then, sir, here is the other volume; I'll send you home that, and please to pay for both. 'My friend,' replied he, canst thou be so senseless as not to know that one volume is as imperfect in Fury! revenge! disdain and indignation! my library as in your shop?' 'Yes, sir, but Tear my swol'n breast, make way for fire and tempest. it is you have lost the first volume; and, to My brain is burst, debate and reason quench'd; be short, I will be paid.' 'Sir,' answered The storm is up, and my hot bleeding heart Splits with the rack; while passions, like the wind, the chapman, 'you are a young man, your Rise up to heav'n, and put out all the stars.' book is lost; and learn by this little loss to Every passionate fellow in town talks half bear much greater adversities, which you the day with as little consistency, and must expect to meet with.' 'Yes, I'll bear threatens things as much out of his power. when I must, but I have not lost now, for I The next disagreeable person to the out- say you have it, and shall pay me.' 'Friend, rageous gentleman, is one of a much lower you grow warm; I tell you the book is lost; order of anger, and he is what we commonly and foresee, in the course even of a pros call a peevish fellow. A peevish fellow is perous life, that you will meet afflictions to one who has some reason in himself for inake you mad, if you cannot bear this being out of humour, or has a natural inca-trifle.''Sir, there is, in this case, no need pacity for delight, and therefore disturbs all of bearing, for you have the book. who are happier than himself with pishes sir, I have not the book; but your passion and pshaws, or other well-bred interjec- will not let you hear enough to be informed tions, at every thing that is said or done in that I have it not. Learn resignation of his presence. There should be physic yourself to the distresses of this life: nay, mixed in the food of all which these fellows do not fret and fume; it is my duty to tell eat in good company. This degree of anger you that you are of an impatient spirit, and passes, forsooth, for a delicacy of judgment, an impatient spirit is never without woe.' that won't admit of being easily pleased; Was ever any thing like this?' 'Yes, sir, but none above the character of wearing a there have been many things like this: the peevish man's livery ought to bear with his loss is but a trifle; but your temper is wanill manners. All things among men of sense ton, and incapable of the least pain; thereand condition should pass the censure, and fore let me advise you, be patient, the book have the protection of the eye of reason. is lost, but do not for that reason lose yourself." 'T.* 'I say, Hi narrata ferunt alio: mensuraque ficti No man ought to be tolerated in an habitual humour, whim, or particularity of behaviour, by any who do not wait upon him for bread. Next to the peevish fellow is No. 439.] Thursday, July 24, 1712. the snarler. This gentleman deals mightily in what we call the irony; and as those sort of people exert themselves most against those below them, you see their humour • That best in their talk to their servants. is so like you; You are a fine fellow; Thou art the quickest head-piece;' and the like. OVID describes the palace of Fame as One would think the hectoring, the storm- situated in the very centre of the universe, ing, the sullen, and all the different species and perforated with so many windows as and subordinations of the angry should be gave her the sight of every thing that was cured, by knowing they live only as par-done in the heavens, in the earth, and in The structure of it was contrived doned men; and how pitiful is the condition the sea. of being only suffered! But I am inter- in so admirable a manner, that it echoed rupted by the pleasantest scene of anger, every word which was spoken in the whole and the disappointment of it, that I have ever known, which happened while I was yet writing, and I overheard as I sat in the back-room at a French bookseller's. There came into the shop a very learned man with an erect solemn air; and, though a person of great parts otherwise, slow in underI consider courts with the same regard to standing any thing which makes against the governments which they superintend, himself. The composure of the faulty man, as Ovid's palace of Fame with regard to and the whimsical perplexity of him that the universe. The eyes of a watchful miwas justly angry, is perfectly new. After nister run through the whole people. There turning over many volumes, said the seller is scarce a murmur or complaint that does to the buyer, Sir, you know I have long asked you to send me back the first volume of French sermons I formerly lent you.' 'Sir,' said the chapman, 'I have often looked for it, but cannot find it; it is certainly compass of nature; so that the palace, says the poet, was always filled with a confused hubbub of low, dying sounds, the voices being almost spent and worn out before they arrived at this general rendezvous of speeches and whispers. * By Steele. See No. 324, ad finem. This scene passed in the shop of Mr. Vaillant, now of Mr. James Payne, in the Strand; and the subject of it was (for it is still in remembrance) a volume of Mas sillon's Sermons. not reach his ears. They have news-1 poor revenge of resenting them. The hisgatherers and intelligencers distributed into tories of Alexander and Cæsar are full of their several walks and quarters, who this kind of instances. Vulgar souls are of bring in their respective quotas, and make a quite contrary character. Dionysius, the them acquainted with the discourse and tyrant of Sicily, had a dungeon which was conversation of the whole kingdom or com- a very curious piece of architecture; and of monwealth where they are employed. The which, as I am informed, there are still to wisest of kings, alluding to these invisible be seen some remains in that island. It and unsuspected spies, who are planted by was called Dionysius's Ear, and built with kings and rulers over their fellow-citizens, several little windings and labyrinths in the as well as to those voluntary informers that form of a real ear. The structure of it are buzzing about the ears of a great man, made it a kind of whispering place, but such and making their court by such secret a one as gathered the voice of him who methods of intelligence, has given us a very spoke into a funnel, which was placed at prudent caution:* Curse not the king, no the very top of it. The tyrant used to not in thy thought, and curse not the rich lodge all his state criminals, or those whom in thy bed-chamber; for a bird of the air he supposed to be engaged together in any shall carry the voice, and that which hath evil design upon him, in this dungeon. He wings shall tell the matter.' had at the same time an apartment over it, where he used to apply himself to the funnel, and by that means overheard every thing that was whispered in the dungeon. I believe one may venture to affirm, that a Cæsar or an Alexander would have rather died by the treason than have used such disingenuous means for the detecting of it. As it is absolutely necessary for rulers to make use of other people's eyes, they should take particular care to do it in such a manner that it may not bear too hard on the person whose life and conversation are inquired into. A man who is capable of so infamous a calling as that of a spy, is not very much to be relied upon. He can have no great ties of honour or checks of conscience, to restrain him in those covert evidences, where the person accused has no opportunity of vindicating himself. He will be more industrious to carry that which is grateful than that which is true. There will be no occasion for him if he does not hear and see things worth discovery; so that he naturally inflames every word and circumstance, aggravates what is faulty, perverts what is good, and misrepresents what is indifferent. Nor is it to be doubted but that such ignominious wretches let their private passions into these their clandestine informations, and often wreak their particular spite and malice against the person whom they are set to watch. It is a pleasant scene enough, which an Italian author describes between a spy and a cardinal who employed him. The cardinal is represented as minuting down every thing that is told him. The spy begins with a low voice, "Such a one, the advocate, whispered to one of his friends, within my hearing, that your eminence was a very great poltroon;' and after having given his patron time enough to take it down, adds, that another called him a mercenary rascal in a public conversation. The cardinal replies, Very well,' and bids him go on. The spy proceeds and loads him with reports of the same nature, till the cardinal rises in great wrath, calls him an impudent scoundrel, and kicks him out of the room. It is observed of great and heroic minds, that they have not only shown a particular disregard to those unmerited reproaches which have been cast upon them, but have been altogether free from that impertinent curiosity of inquiring after them, or the * Eccl. x 20. A man who in ordinary life is very inquisitive after every thing which is spoken ill of him, passes his time but very indifferently. He is wounded by every arrow that is shot at him, and puts it in the power of every insignificant enemy to disquiet him. Nay, he will suffer from what has been said of him, when it is forgotten by those who said or heard it. For this reason I could never bear one of those officious friends, that would be telling every malicious report, every idle censure, that passed upon me. The tongue of man is so petulant, and his thoughts so variable, that one should not lay too great a stress upon any present speeches and opinions. Praise and obloquy proceed very frequently out of the same mouth upon the same person; and upon the same occasion. A generous enemy will sometimes bestow commendations, as the dearest friend cannot sometimes refrain from speaking ill. The man who is indifferent in either of these respects, gives his opinion at random, and praises or disap-. proves as he finds himself in humour. I shall conclude this essay with part of a character, which is finely drawn by the earl of Clarendon, in the first book of his History, which gives us the lively picture of a great man teasing himself with an ab surd curiosity. 'He had not that application and submission, and reverence for the queen, as might have been expected from his wisdom and breeding; and often crossed her pretences and desires with more rudeness than was natural to him. Yet he was impertinently solicitous to know what her majesty said of him in private, and what resentments she had towards him. And when by some confidants, who had their ends upon him from those offices, he was informed of some bitter expressions falling No. 440.] Friday, July 25, 1712. 0. from her majesty, he was so exceedingly | from the table, and convey him to the inafflicted and tormented with the sense of firmary. There was but one more sent it, that sometimes by passionate complaints away that day; this was a gentleman who and representations to the king, sometimes is reckoned by some persons one of the by more dutiful addresses and expostula- greatest wits, and by others one of the tions with the queen in bewailing his mis- greatest boobies about town. This you will fortune, he frequently exposed himself, and say is a strange character; but what makes left his condition worse than it was before, it stranger yet, is a very true one, for he is and the éclaircissement commonly ended in perpetually the reverse of himself, being the discovery of the persons from whom he always merry or dull to excess. We brought had received his most secret intelligence.' him hither to divert us, which he did very well upon the road, having lavished away as much wit and laughter upon the hackney coachman as might have served during his whole stay here, had it been duly managed. He had been lumpish for two or three days, but was so far connived at, in hopes of recovery, that we despatched one of the briskest fellows among the brotherhood into the infirmary for having told I HAVE already given my reader an ac- him at table he was not merry. But our count of a set of merry fellows who are president observing that he indulged himpassing their summer together in the coun- self in this long fit of stupidity, and contry, being provided with a great house, struing it as a contempt of the college, where there is not only a convenient apart-ordered him to retire into the place prement for every particular person, but a large infirmary for the reception of such of them as are any way indisposed or out of humour. Having lately received a letter from the secretary of the society, by order of the whole fraternity, which acquaints me with their behaviour during the last week, I shall here make a present of it to the public. Vivere si recte nescis, discede peritis. Pope. pared for such companions. He was no sooner got into it, but his wit and mirth returned upon him in so violent a manner, that he shook the whole infirmary with the noise of it, and had so good an effect upon the rest of the patients, that he brought them all out to dinner with him the next day. 'On Tuesday we were no sooner sat down, but one of the company complained that his head ached; upon which, another asked him in an insolent manner, what he did there then? This insensibly grew into some warm words; so that the president, in order to keep the peace, gave directions to take them both from the table, and lodge other of the company telling us he knew, by a pain in his shoulder, that we should have some rain, the president ordered him to be removed, and placed at a weatherglass in the apartment above-mentioned. 'MR. SPECTATOR,-We are glad to find that you approve the establishment which we have here made for the retrieving of good manners and agreeable conversation, and shall use our best endeavours so to improve ourselves in this our summer retire-them in the infirmary. Not long after, anment, that we may next winter serve as patterns to the town. But to the end that this our institution may be no less advantageous to the public than to ourselves, we shall communicate to you one week of our proceedings, desiring you at the same time, 'On Wednesday a gentleman having reif you see any thing faulty in them, to favour ceived a letter written in a woman's hand, us with your admonitions: for you must and changing colour twice or thrice as he know, sir, that it has been proposed amongst read it, desired leave to retire into the inus to choose you for our visitor; to which I firmary. The president consented, but demust farther add, that one of the college nied him the use of pen, ink, and paper, having declared last week he did not like till such time as he had slept upon it. One the Spectator of the day, and not being of the company being seated at the lower able to assign any just reasons for such dis- end of the table, and discovering his secret like, he was sent to the infirmary nemine discontent, by finding fault with every dish contradicente. that was served up, and refusing to laugh "On Monday the assembly was in very at any thing that was said, the president good humour, having received some retold him, that he found he was in an uncruits of French claret that morning; when, easy seat, and desired him to accommodate unluckily, towards the middle of the din- himself better in the infirmary. After dinner, one of the company swore at his ser-ner, a very honest fellow chanced to let a vant in a very rough manner for having put pun fall from him; his neighbour cried out, too much water in his wine. Upon which,To the infirmary;" at the same time prethe president of the day, who is always the tending to be sick at it, as having the same mouth of the company, after having con-natural antipathy to a pun which some vinced him of the impertinence of his pas- have to a cat. This produced a long desion, and the insult he had made upon the bate. Upon the whole, the punster was company, ordered his man to take him acquitted, and his neighbour sent off VCL. II. 23 'On Thursday there was but one delin- | blessings and conveniences of life, and an quent. This was a gentleman of strong habitual trust in him for deliverance out of voice, but weak understanding. He had all such dangers and difficulties as may beunluckily engaged himself in a dispute with fall us. a man of excellent sense, but of a modest elocution. The man of heat replied to every answer of his antagonist with a louder note than ordinary, and only raised his voice when he should have enforced his argument. Finding himself at length driven to an absurdity, he still reasoned in a more clamorous and confused manner; and to make the greater impression upon his hearers, concluded with a loud thump upon the table. The president immediately or dered him to be carried off, and dieted with water-gruel, till such time as he should be sufficiently weakened for conversation. 'On Friday there passed very little remarkable, saving only, that several petitions were read of the persons in custody, desiring to be released from their confinement, and vouching for one another's good behaviour for the future. The man who always lives in this disposition of mind, has not the same dark and melancholy views of human nature, as he who considers himself abstractedly from this relation to the Supreme Being. At the same time that he reflects upon his own weakness and imperfection, he comforts himself with the contemplation of those divine attributes which are employed for his safety and his welfare. He finds his want of foresight made up by the Omniscience of Him who is his support. not sensible of his own want of strength, when he knows that his helper is almighty. In short, the person who has a firm trust on the Supreme Being is powerful in His power, wise by His wisdom, happy by His happiness. He reaps the benefit of every divine attribute, and loses his own insufficiency in the fulness of infinite perfection. He is To make our lives more easy to us, we are commanded to put our trust in Him, who is thus able to relieve and succour us; the divine goodness having made such reliance a duty, notwithstanding we should have been miserable had it been forbidden us. 'On Saturday we received many excuses from persons who had found themselves in an unsociable temper, and had voluntarily shut themselves up. The infirmary was, indeed, never so full as on this day, which I was at some loss to account for, till, upon my going abroad, I observed that it was an easterly wind. The retirement of most of my friends has given me opportunity and leisure of writing you this letter, which II must not conclude without assuring you, that all the members of our college, as well those who are under confinement as those who are at liberty, are your very humble servants, though none more than, C. &c.' Her. Od. iii. Lib. 3. 7. Should the whole frame of nature round him break He, unconcern'd, would hear the mighty crack, And stand secure amidst a falling world.—Anon. MAN, considered in himself, is a very helpless and a very wretched being. He is subject every moment to the greatest calamities and misfortunes. He is beset with dangers on all sides; and may become unhappy by numberless casualties, which he could not foresee, nor have prevented had he foreseen them. It is our comfort while we are obnoxious to so many accidents, that we are under the care of One who directs contingencies, and nas in his hands the management of every thing that is capable of annoying or offending us; who knows the assistance we stand in need of, and is always ready to bestow it on those who ask it of him. The natural homage which such a creature bears to so infinitely wise and good a Being, is a firm reliance on him for the Among several motives which might be made use of to recommend this duty to us, shall only take notice of those that follow. The first and strongest is, that we are promised, He will not fail those who put their trust in Him. But, without considering the supernatural blessing which accompanies this duty, we may observe, that it has a natural tendercy to its own reward, or, in other words, that this firm trust and confidence in the great Disposer of all things, contributes very much to the getting clear of any affliction, or to the bearing it manfully. A person who believes he has his succour at hand, and that he acts in the sight of his friend, often exerts himself beyond his abilities, and does wonders that are not to be matched by one who is not animated with such a confidenc of success. I could produce instances from history, of generals, who, out of a belief that they were under the protection of some invisible assistant, did not only encourage their soldiers to do their utmost, but have acted themselves beyond what they would have done had they not been inspired by such a belief. I might in the same manner show how such a trust in the assistance of an Almighty Being naturally produces patience, hope, cheerfulness, and all other dispositions of mind that alleviate those calamities which we are not able to remove. The practice of this virtue administers great comfort to the mind of man in times of poverty and affliction, but most of all in the hour of death. When the soul is hovering in the last moments of its separation, when it is just entering on another state of |