napes, who would needs try his new gun upon me. But I shall pass over these and several other stages of life, to remind you of the young beau who made love to you about six | years since. You may remember, madam, how he masked, and danced, and sung, and played a thousand tricks to gain you; and how he was at last carried off by a cold that he got under your window one night in a serenade. I was that unfortunate young fellow to whom you were then so cruel. Not long after my shifting that unlucky body, I found myself upon a hill in Ethiopia, where I lived in my present grotesque shape, till I was caught by a servant of the English factory, and sent over into Great Britain. I need not inform you how I came into your hands. You see, madam, this is not the first time that you have had me in a chain: I am, however, very happy in this my captivity, as you often bestow on me those kisses and caresses which I would have given the world for when I was a man. I hope this discovery of my person will not tend to my disadvantage, but that you will still continue your accustomed favours to your most devoted humble servant, in his way, and withal so very merry during the whole entertainment, that he insensibly betrayed me to continue his competitor, which in a little time concluded in a complete victory over my rival; after which, by way of insult, I ate a considerable proportion beyond what the spectators thought me obliged in honour to do. The effect, however, of this engagement, has made me resolve never to eat more for renown; and I have, pursuant to this resolution, compounded three wagers I had depending on the strength of my stomach, which happened very luckily, because it had been stipulated in our articles either to play or pay. How a man of common sense could be thus engaged is hard to determine; but the occasion of this is, to desire you to inform several gluttons of my acquaintance, who look on me with envy, that they had best moderate their ambition in time, lest infamy or death attend their success. I forgot to tell you, sir, with what unspeakable pleasure I received the acclamations and applause of the whole board, when I had almost eat my antagonist into convulsions. It was then that I returned his mirth upon him with such success, as he was hardly able to swallow, though prompted by a desire of fame, and a passionate fond'P. S. I would advise your little shock-ness for distinction. I had not endeavoured dog to keep out of my way; for as I look to excel so far, had not the company been upon him to be the most formidable of my so loud in their approbation of my victory. rivals, I may chance one time or other to I don't question but the same thirst after give him such a snap as he won't like.' glory has often caused a man to drink quarts without taking breath, and prompted men to many other as difficult enterprises: which, if otherwise pursued, might turn very much to a man's advantage. This ambition of mine was indeed extravagantly pursued; however, I cannot help observing, that you hardly ever see a man commended for a good stomach, but he immediately falls to eating more, (though he had before dined,) as well to confirm the person that commended him in his good opinion of him, as to convince any other at the table, who may have been unattentive enough not to have done justice to his character. I am, sir, your humble servant, 'PUGG.' No. 344.] Friday, April 4, 1712. In solo vivendi causa palato est. Juv. Sat. xi. 11. Such whose sole bliss is eating: who can give But that one brutal reason why they live. Congreve. · EPICURE MAMMON.' MR. SPECTATOR,-I think it has not yet fallen into your way to discourse on little ambition, or the many whimsical ways men fall into to distinguish themselves among their acquaintance. Such observations, well pursued, would make a pretty history of low life. I myself am got into a great reputation, which arose (as most extraordinary occurrences in a man's life seem 'MR. SPECTATOR,-I have wrote to you to do,) from a mere accident. I was some three or four times, to desire you would days ago unfortunately engaged among a take notice of an impertinent custom the set of gentlemen, who esteem a man accord- women, the fine women, have lately fallen ing to the quantity of food he throws down into, of taking snuff. This silly trick is atat a meal. Now I, who am ever for dis-tended with such a coquette air in some tinguishing myself according to the notions of superiority which the rest of the company entertain, ate so immoderately, for their applause, as had like to have cost me my life. What added to my misfortune was, that having naturally a good stomach, and having lived soberly for some time, my Dody was as well prepared for this contention as if it had been by appointment. I had quickly vanquished every glutton in company but one who was such a prodigy Vor II 7 ladies, and such a sedate masculine one in others, that I cannot tell which most to complain of: but they are to me equally disagreeable. Mrs. Santer is so impatient of being without it, that she takes it as often as she does salt at meals: and as she affects a wonderful ease and negligence in all her manner, an upper lip mixed with snuff and the sauce, is what is presented to the observation of all who have the honour to eat with her. The pretty creature, her So spake our sire, and by his countenance seem'd And grace that won who saw to wish her stay, Of what was high: such pleasure she reserv'd, niece, does all she can to be as disagreeable | book, which is filled with Adam's account as her aunt; and if she is not as offensive to of his passion and esteem for Eve, would the eye, she is quite as much to the ear, have been improper for her hearing, and and makes up all she wants in a confident has therefore devised very just and beautiair, by a nauseous rattle of the nose, when ful reasons for her retiring: the snuff is delivered, and the fingers make the stops and closes on the nostrils. This, perhaps, is not a very courtly image in speaking of ladies; that is very true: but where arises the offence? Is it in those who commit, or those who observe it? As for my part, I have been so extremely disgusted with this filthy physic hanging on the lip, that the most agreeable conversation, or person, has not been able to make up for it. As to those who take it for no other end but to give themselves occasion for pretty action, or to fill up little intervals of discourse, I can bear with them; but then they must not use it when another is speaking, who ought to be heard with too much respect, to admit of offering at that time from hand to hand the snuff-box. But Flavilla is so far taken with her behaviour in this kind, that she pulls out her box (which is indeed full of good Brazil,) in the middle of the sermon; and, to show she has the audacity of a well-bred woman, she offers it to the men as well as to the women who sit near her: but since by this time all the world knows she has a fine hand, I am in hopes she may give herself no further trouble in this matter. On Sunday was sevennight, when they came about for the offering, she gave her charity with a very good air, but at the same time asked the church-warden if he would take a pinch. Pray, sir, think of these things in time, and you will oblige, your humble servant. T. No. 345.] Saturday, April 5, 1712. The angel's returning a doubtful answer to Adam's inquiries, was not only proper for the moral reason which the poet assigns, but because it would have been highly absurd to have given the sanction of an archangel to any particular system of philosophy. The chief points in the Ptolemaic and Copernican hypotheses are described with great conciseness and perspicuity, and at the same time dressed in very pleasing and poetical images. Adam, to detain the angel, enters afterwards upon his own history, and relates to him the circumstances in which he found himself upon his creation; as also his conversation with his Maker, and his first meeting with Eve. There is no part of the poem more apt to raise the attention of the reader than this discourse of our great ancestor; as nothing can be more surprising and delightful to us, than to hear the sentiments that arose in the first man, while he was yet new and fresh from the hands of his Creator. The poet has interwoven every thing which is delivered upon this subject A creature of a more exalted kind Was wanting yet, and then was man design'd: in holy writ with so many beautiful imagi Conscious of thought, of more capacious breast, nations of his own, that nothing can be con For empire form'd, and fit to rule the rest.-Dryden. ceived more just and more natural than this THE accounts which Raphael gives of whole episode. As our author knew this sub the battle of angels, and the creation of theject could not but be agreeable to his reader world, have in them those qualifications which the critics judge requisite to an episode. They are nearly related to the principal action, and have a just connexion with the fable. Sanctius his animal, mentisque capacius altæ he would not throw it into the relation of For while I sit with thee, I seem in heaven, The other I shall mention, is that in which the angel gives a reason why he should be glad to hear the story Adam was about to relate. For I that day was absent as befel, There is no question but our poet drew the image in what follows from that in Virgil's sixth book, where Æneas and the Sybil stand before the adamantine gates, which are there described as shut upon the place of torments, and listen to the groans, the clank of chains, and the noise of iron whips, that were heard in those regions of pain and sorrow. Fast we found, fast shut The dismal gates, and barricado'd strong; Adam then proceeds to give an account of his condition and sentiments immediately after his creation. How agreeably does he represent the posture in which he found himself, the delightful landscape that surrounded him, and the gladness of heart which grew up in him on that occasion! 'As new wak'd from soundest sleep, Soft on the flow'ry herb I found me laid In balmy sweat, which with his beams the sun Soon dry'd, and on the reeking moisture fed, Straight towards heaven my wond'ring eyes I turn'd And gaz'd awhile the ample sky; till rais'd By quick instinctive motion, up I sprung, As thitherward endeavouring, and upright Stood on my feet. About me round I saw Hill, dale, and shady woods, and sunny plains, And liquid lapse of murmuring streams: by these, Creatures that liv'd and mov'd, and walk'd, or flew, Birds on the branches warbling; all things smil'd With fragrance, and with joy my heart o'erflow'd.' Adam is afterwards described as surprised at his own existence, and taking a survey of himself and of all the works of nature. He likewise is represented as discovering, by the light of reason, that he, and every thing about him, must have been the effect of some Being infinitely good and powerful, and that this Being had a right to his worship and adoration. His first address to the Sun, and to those parts of the creation which made the most distinguished figure, is very natural and amusing to the imagination: Thou Sun,' said I. 'Fair light, His next sentiment, when, upon his first going to sleep, he fancies himself losing his existence, and falling away into nothing, can never be sufficiently admired. His dream, in which he still preserves the consciousness of his existence, together with his removal into the garden which was prepared for his reception, are also circumstances finely imagined, and grounded upon what is delivered in sacred story. These and the like wonderful incidents in this part of the work, have in them all the beauties of novelty, at the same time that they have all the graces of nature. They are such as none but a great genius could have thought of; though, upon the perusal of them, they seem to rise of them selves from the subject of which he treats. In a word, though they are natural, they are not obvious; which is the true character of all fine writing. The impression which the interdiction of the tree of life left in the mind of our first parent is described with great strength and judgment; as the image of the several beasts and birds passing in review before him is very beautiful and lively: - Each bird and beast behold Approaching two and two, these cow'ring low With blandishment; each bird stoop'd on his wing. I nam'd them as they pass'd.' Adam in the next place, describes a conference which he held with his Maker upon the subject of solitude. The poet here represents the Supreme Being as making an essay of his own work, and putting to the trial that reasoning faculty with which he had endued his creature. Adam urges, in this divine colloquy, the impossibility of his being happy, though he was the inhabitant of Paradise, and lord of the whole creation, without the conversation and society of some rational creature who should partake those blessings with him. This dialogue, which is supported chiefly by the beauty of the thoughts, without other poetical ornament, is as fine a part as any in the whole poem. The more the reader examines the justness and delicacy of its sentiments, the more he will find himself pleased with it. The poet has wonderfully preserved the character of majesty and condescension in the Creator, and, at the same time, that of humility and adoration in the creature, as particularly in the following lines: Thus I presumptuous; and the vision bright, And humble deprecation, thus reply'd: Adam then proceeds to give an account of his second sleep, and of the dream in which he beheld the formation of Eve. The new passion that was awakened in him at the sight of her is touched very finely. 'Under his forming hands a creature grew, Adam's distress upon losing sight of this beautiful phantom, with his exclamations of joy and gratitude at the discovery of a real creature who resembled the apparition which had been presented to him in his dream; the approaches he makes to her, and his manner of courtship, are all laid together in a most exquisite propriety of sentiments. 'Neither her outside form'd so fair, nor aught Adam's speech at parting with the angel, Though this part of the poem is worked up with great warmth and spirit, the love which is described in it is every way suitable to a state of innocence. If the reader compares the description which Adam here gives of his leading Eve to the nuptial hower, with that which Mr. Dryden has made on the same occasion in a scene of his Fall of Man, he will be sensible of the great care which Milton took to avoid all thoughts on so delicate a subject that might be offen- No. 346.] Monday, April 7, 1712. sive to religion or good manners. sentiments are chaste, but not cold; and Consuetudinem benignitatis largitioni munerum convey to the mind ideas of the most trans-longe antepono. Hæc est gravium hominum atque magnorum; illa quasi assentatorum 'populi, multitudinis porting passion, and of the greatest purity. levitatem voluptate quasi titillantium. What a noble mixture of rapture and innocence has the author joined together, in the reflection which Adam makes on the pleasures of love, compared to those of sense! The Thus have I told thee, all my state, and brought I mean of taste, sight, smell, herbs, fruits, and flowers, When I approach Tull. I esteem a habit of benignity greatly preferable to munificence. The former is peculiar to great and distinguished persons; the latter belongs to flatterers of the people, who tickle the levity of the multitude with a kind of pleasure. WHEN We consider the offices of human life, there is, methinks, something in what we ordinarily call generosity, which, when carefully examined, seems to flow rather from a loose and unguarded temper than an honest and liberal mind. For this reason it is absolutely necessary that all liberality should have for its basis and support frugality. By this means the beneficent spirit works in a man from convictions of reason, not from the impulse of passion. The generous man in the ordinary acceptation, without respect of the demands of his family, will soon find upon the foot of his account, that he has sacrificed to fools, knaves, flatterers, or the deservedly unhappy, all the opportunities of affording any future assistance where it ought to be. Let him therefore reflect, that if to bestow be in itself laudable, should not a man take care to secure an ability to do things praiseworthy as long as he lives? Or could there be a more cruel piece of raillery upon a man who should have reduced his fortune below the capacity of acting according to his natural temper, than to say of him, These sentiments of love in our first pa-That gentleman was generous? My berent, gave the angel such an insight into loved author therefore has, in the sentence human nature, that he seems apprehensive on the top of my paper, turned his eye with of the evils which might befall the species a certain satiety from beholding the adin general, as well as Adam in particular, dresses to the people by largesses and pubfrom the excess of his passion. He there-lic entertainments, which he asserts to be fore fortifies him against it by timely ad- in general vicious, and are always to be monitions; which very artfully prepare the regulated according to the circumstances mind of the reader for the occurrences of of time and a man's own fortune. the next book, where the weakness, of stant benignity in commerce with the rest which Adam here gives such distant dis- of the world, which ought to run through coveries, brings about that fatal event which all a man's actions, has effects more useful is the subject of the poem. His discourse, to those whom you oblige and is less ostenwhich follows the gentle rebuke he received tatious in yourself. He turns his recomfrom the angel, shows that his love, how-mendation of this virtue on commercial life: ever violent it might appear, was still and, according to him, a citizen who is founded in reason, and consequently not frank in his kindnesses, and abhors severity improper for Paradise: in his demands: he who, in buying, selling, A con lending, doing acts of good neighbourhood, | Without this benignity, pride or vengeance r will precipitate a man to choose the receipt of half his demands from one whom he has undone, rather than the whole from one to whom he has shown mercy. This benignity is essential to the character of a fair trader, and any man who designs to enjoy his wealth with honour and self-satisfaction; nay, would not be hard to maintain, that the practice of supporting good and industrious men would carry a man farther even to his profit, than indulging the propensity of serving and obliging the fortunate. My author argues on this subject, in order to incline men's minds to those who want them most, after this manner. We must always consider the nature of things, and govern ourselves accordingly. The wealthy man, when he has repaid you, is upon a balance, with you; but the person whom you favoured with a loan, if he be a good man, will think himself in your debt after he has paid you. The wealthy and the conspicuous are not obliged by the benefits you do them; they think they conferred a benefit when they received one. Your good offices are always suspected, and it is with them the same thing to expect their favour as to receive it. But the man below you, who knows, in the good you have done him, you respected himself more than his circumstances, does not act like an obliged man only to him from whom he has received a benefit, but also to all who are capable of doing him one. And whatever little offices he can do for you, he is so far from magnifying it, that he will labour to extenuate it in all his actions and expressions. Moreover, the regard to what you do to a great man at best is taken notice of no further than by himself or his family; but what you do to a man of an humble fortune (provided always that he is a good and a modest man) raises the affections towards you of all men of that character (of which there are many) in the whole city. is just and easy; he who appears naturally averse to disputes, and above the sense of little sufferings; bears a noble character, and does much more good to mankind than any other man's fortune, without commerce, can possibly support. For the citizen above all other men, has opportunities of arriving at the highest fruit of wealth,' to be liberal without the least expense of a man's own fortune. It is not to be denied but such a practice is liable to hazard; but this therefore adds to the obligation, that, among traders, he who obliges is as much concerned to keep the favour a secret as he who receives it. The unhappy distinctions among us in England are so great, that to celebrate the intercourse of commercial friendship (with which I am daily made acquainted) would be to raise the virtuous man so many enemies of the contrary party. I am obliged to conceal all I know of Tom the Bounteous,' who lends at the ordinary interest, to give men of less fortune opportunities of making greater advantages. He conceals, under a rough air and distant behaviour, a bleeding compassion and womanish tenderness. This is governed by the most exact circumspection, that there is no industry wanting in the person whom he is to serve, and that he is guilty of no improper expenses. This I know of Tom; but who dare say it of so known a Tory? | The same care I was forced to use some time ago, in the report of another's virtue, and said fifty instead of a hundred, because the man I pointed at was a Whig. Actions of this kind are popular, without being invidious: for every man of ordinary circumstances looks upon a man who has this known benignity in his nature as a person ready to be his friend upon such terms as he ought to expect it; and the wealthy who may envy such a character, can do no injury to its interests, but by the imitation of it, in which the good citizen will rejoice to be rivalled. I know not how to form to my- There is nothing gains a reputation to a self a greater idea of human life, than in preacher so much as his own practice; I what is the practice of some wealthy men am therefore casting about what act of bewhom I could name, that make no step to nignity is in the power of a Spectator. the improvement of their own fortunes, Alas! that lies but in a very narrow comwherein they do not also advance those of pass; and I think the most immediately other men who would languish in poverty under my patronage are either players, or without that munificence. In a nation where such whose circumstances bear an affinity there are so many public funds to be sup- with theirs. All, therefore, I am able to do ported, I know not whether he can be called at this time of this kind, is to tell the town, a good subject, who does not embark some that on Friday the 11th of this instant, part of his fortune with the state, to whose April, there will be performed in Yorkvigilance he owes the security of the whole. Buildings, a concert of vocal and instruThis certainly is an immediate way of lay- mental music, for the benefit of Mr. Edward ing an obligation upon many, and extending Keen, the father of twenty children; and your benignity the farthest a man can pos- that this day the haughty George Powell sibly, who is not engaged in commerce. hopes all the good-natured part of the town But he who trades, besides giving the state will favour him, whom they applauded in some part of this sort of credit he gives his Alexander, Timon, Lear, and Orestes, banker, may, in all the occurrences of his with their company this night, when he life, have his eye upon removing want from hazards all his heroic glory for their appro the door of the industrious, and defending bation in the humble condition of honest the unhappy upright man from bankruptcy. | Jack Falstaff. T |