upon it, by considering that part of the beings which are of a superior nature to scale of beings which comes within our him; since there is an infinitely greater knowledge. There are some living creatures which are raised just above dead matter. To mention only that species of shell-fish, which are formed in the fashion of a cone, that grow to the surface of several rocks, and immediately die upon their being severed from the place where they grow. There are many other creatures but one remove from these, which have no other sense but that of feeling and taste. Others have still an additional one of hearing; others of smell, and others of sight. It is wonderful to observe by what a gradual progress the world of life advances through a prodigious variety of species, before a creature is formed that is complete in all its senses; and even among these there is such a different degree of perfection in the senses which one animal enjoys beyond what ap- | pears in another, that, though the sense in different animals be distinguished by the same common denomination, it seems almost of a different nature. If after this we look into the several inward perfections of cunning and sagacity, or what we generally call instinct, we find them rising after the same manner imperceptibly one above another, and receiving additional improvements, according to the species in which they are implanted. This progress in nature is so very gradual, that the most perfect of an inferior species comes very near to the most imperfect of that which is immediately above it. The exuberant and overflowing goodness of the Supreme Being, whose mercy extends to all his works, is plainly seen, as I have before hinted, from his having made so very little matter, at least what falls within our knowledge, that does not swarm with life. Nor is his goodness less seen in the diversity than in the multitude of living creatures. Had he only made one species of animals, none of the rest would have enjoyed the happiness of existence: he has, therefore, specified in his creation every degree of life, every capacity of being. The whole chasm in nature, from a plant to a man, is filled up with diverse kinds of creatures, rising one over another, by such a gentle and easy ascent, that the little transitions and deviations from one species to another are almost insensible. This intermediate space is so well husbanded and managed, that there is scarce a degree of perception which does not appear in some one part of the world of life. Is the goodness or the wisdom of the Divine Being more mani'ested in this his proceeding? There is a consequence, besides those I have already mentioned, which seems very naturally deducible from the foregoing considerations. If the scale of being rises by such a regular progress so high as man, we may, by a parity of reason, suppose that It still proceeds gradually through those space and room for different degrees of perfection between the Supreme Being and man, than between man and the most despicable insect. This consequence of so great a variety of beings which are superior to us, from that variety which is inferior to us, is made by Mr. Locke, in a passage which I shall here set down, after having premised, that, notwithstanding there is such infinite room between man and his Maker for the creative power to exert itself in, it is impossible that it should ever be filled up, since there will be still an infinite gap or distance between the highest created being and the Power which produced him. That there should be more species of intelligent creatures above us, than there are of sensible and material below us, is probable to me from hence: that in all the visible corporeal world we see no chasms, or no gaps. All quite down from us the descent is by easy steps, and a continued series of things, that in each remove differ very little one from the other. There are fishes that have wings, and are not strangers to the airy region; and there are some birds that are inhabitants of the water. whose blood is as cold as fishes, and their flesh so like in taste, that the scrupulous are allowed them on fish days. There are animals so near of kin both to birds and beasts, that they are in the middle between both. Amphibious animals link the terrestrial and aquatic together. Seals live at land and at sea, and porpoises have the warm blood and the entrails of a hog; not to mention what is confidently reported of mermaids, or sea-men, there are some brutes that seem to have as much know. ledge and reason as some part that are called men; and the animal and vegetable kingdoms are so nearly joined, that if you will take the lowest of one, and the highest of the other, there will scarce be perceived any great difference between them; and so on until we come to the lowest and the most inorganical parts of matter, we shall find every where that the several species are linked together, and differ but in almost insensible degrees. And, when we consider the infinite power and wisdom of the Maker, we have reason to think that it is suitable to the magnificent harmony of the universe, and the great design and infinite goodness of the architect, that the species of creatures should also by gentle degrees ascend upward from us toward his infinite perfection, as we see they gradually descend from us downward: which if it be probable, we have reason then to be persuaded that there are far more species of creatures above us than there are beneath; we being in degrees of perfection much more remote from the infinite being of God, than we are from the lowest state of being, and that which approaches nearest to no thing. And yet of all those distinct species | meekness, good nature, and complacency. we have no clear distinct ideas.' In this system of being, there is no creature so wonderful in its nature, and which so much deserves our particular attention, as man, who fills up the middle space between the animal and intellectual nature, the visible and invisible world, and is that link in the chain of beings which has been often termed the nexus utriusque mundi. So that he, who in one respect, being associated with angels and archangels, may look upon a Being of infinite perfection,' as his father, and the highest order of spirits as his brethren, may in another respect say to corruption, Thou art my father; and to the worm, Thou art my mother and my sister.' O. ་ But, indeed, when in a serious and lonely hour I present my departed consort to my imagination, with that air of persuasion in her countenance when I have been in passion, that sweet affability when I have been in good humour, that tender compassion when I have had any thing which gave me uneasiness; I confess to you I am inconsolable, and my eyes gush with grief, as if I had seen her just then expire. In this condition I am broken in upon by a charming young woman, my daughter, who is the picture of what her mother was on her weddingday. The good girl strives to comfort me; but how shall I let you know that all the comfort she gives me is to make my tears flow more easily? The child knows she quickens my sorrows, and rejoices my heart at the same time. Oh, ye learned! tell me by what word to speak a motion of the soul for which there is no name. When she kneels, and bids me be comforted, she is my child: when I take her in my arms, and bid her say no more, she is my very wife, and is the very comforter I lament the loss of. I banish her the room, and weep aloud that I have lost her mother, and that I have her. 'Mr. Spectator, I wish it were possible for you to have a sense of these pleasing perplexities; you might communicate to the guilty part of mankind that they are incapable of the happiness which is in the very sorrows of the virtuous. 'MR. SPECTATOR,-The just value you have expressed for the matrimonial state is the reason that I now venture to write to you, without fear of being ridiculous, and confess to you that though it is three months since I lost a very agreeable woman who was my wife, my sorrow is still fresh; and I am often, in the midst of company, upon any circumstance that revives her memory, 'But pray spare me a little longer; give with a refection what she would say or do me leave to tell you the manner of her on such an occasion: I say upon any occur- death. She took leave of all her family, rence of that nature, which I can give you and bore the vain application of medicines a sense of, though I cannot express it whol- with the greatest patience imaginable. ly, I am all over softness, and am obliged When the physician told her she must cer to retire and give way to a few sighs and tainly die, she desired, as well as she could, tears before I can be easy. I cannot but that all who were present, except myself, recommend the subject of male widowhood might depart the room. She said she had to you, and beg of you to touch upon it by nothing to say, for she was resigned, and I the first opportunity. To those who had knew all she knew that concerned us in not lived like husbands during the lives of this world; but she desired to be alone, their spouses, this would be a tasteless jum-that in the presence of God only she might, ble of words; but to such (of whom there are not a few) who have enjoyed that state with the sentiments proper for it, you will have every line, which hits the sorrow, attended with a tear of pity and consolation; for I know not by what goodness of Providence it is that every gash of passion is a step towards the relief of it; and there is a certain 'I curb myself, and will not tell you that comfort in the very act of sorrowing, which, this kindness cut my heart in twain, when I suppose, arises from a secret conscious- I expected an accusation for some passionness in the mind, that the affliction it is un-ate starts of mine, in some parts of our time der flows from a virtuous cause. My concern is not indeed so outrageous as at the first transport; for I think it has subsided rather into a soberer state of mind than any actual perturbation of spirit. There might be rules formed for men's behaviour on this great incident, to bring them from that misfortnne into the condition I am at present; which is, I think, that my sorrow has converted all roughness of temper into without interruption, do her last duty to me, of thanking me for all my kindness to her: adding that she hoped in my last moments I should feel the same comfort for my goodness to her, as she did in that she had ac quitted herself with honour, truth, and virtue to me. together, to say nothing but thank me for the good, if there was any good suitable to her own excellence! All that I had ever said to her, all the circumstances of sorrow and joy between us, crowded upon my mind in the same instant: and when, immediately after, I saw the pangs of death come upon that dear body which I had often embraced with transport: when I saw those cherishing eyes begin to be ghastly, and their last struggle to be to fix themselves | mean, that can report what they have seen on me, how did I lose all patience! She or heard: and this through incapacity or expired in my arms, and in my distraction prejudice, one of which disables almost I thought I saw her bosom still heave. There was certainly life yet still left. I cried, she just now spoke to me. But, alas! I grew giddy, and all things moved about me, from the distemper of my own head; for the best of women was breathless, and gone for ever. Now the doctrine I would, methinks, have you raise from this account I have given you, is, that there is a certain equanimity in those who are good and just, which runs into their very sorrow, and disappoints the force of it. Though they must pass through afflictions in common with all who are in human nature, yet their conscious integrity shall undermine their affliction; nay, that very affliction shall add force to their integrity, from a reflection of the use of virtue in the hour of affliction. I sat down with a design to put you upon giving us rules how to overcome such griefs as these, but I should rather advise you to teach men to be capable of them. "You men of letters have what you call the fine taste in your apprehensions of what is properly done or said. There is something like this deeply grafted in the soul of him who is honest and faithful in all his thoughts and actions. Every thing which is false, vicious, or unworthy, is despicable to him, though all the world should approve it. At the same time he has the most fively sensibility in all enjoyments and sufterings which it is proper for him to have where any duty of life is concerned. To want sorrow when you in decency and truth should be afflicted, is, I should think, a greater instance of a man's being a blockhead, than not to know the beauty of any passage in Virgil. You have not yet observed, Mr Spectator, that the fine gentlemen of this age set up for hardness of heart; and humanity has very little share in their pretences. He is a brave fellow who is always ready to kill a man he hates, but he does not stand in the same degree of esteem who laments for the woman he loves. I should fancy you might work up a thousand pretty thoughts, by reflecting upon the persons most susceptible of the sort of sorrow I have spoken of; and I dare say you will find, upon examination, that they are the wisest and the bravest of mankind who are the most capable of it. I am, sir, your humble servant, F. J. 'Norwich, 7th October, 1712.' T. No. 521.] Tuesday, October 28, 1712. Vera redit facies, dissimulata perit.-P. Arb. The real face returns, the counterfeit is lost. 'MR. SPECTATOR,-I have been for many years loud in this assertion, that there are very few that can see or hear. I every man who talks to you from representing things as he ought. For which reason I am come to a resolution of believing nothing I hear; and I contemn the man given to narrations under the appellation of "a matter-of-fact man:" and, according to me, a matter-of-fact man is one whose life and conversation is spent in the report of what is not matter-of-fact. I remember when prince Eugene was here there was no knowing his height or figure, until you, Mr. Spectator, gave the public satisfaction in that matter. In relations, the force of the expression lies very often more in the look, the tone of voice, or the gesture, than the words themselves; which, being repeated in any other manner by the undiscerning, bear a very different interpretation from their original meaning. I must confess I formerly have turned this humour of mine to very good account; for whenever I heard any narration uttered with extraordinary vehemence, and grounded upon considerable authority, I was always ready to lay any wager that it was not so. Indeed, I never pretended to be so rash as to fix the matter any particular way in opposition to theirs; but as there are a hundred ways of any thing happening, besides that it has happened, I only controverted its falling out in that one manner as they settled it, and left it to the ninety-nine other ways, and consequently had more probability of success. I had arrived at a particular skill in warming a man so far in his narrations as to make him throw in a little of the marvellous, and then, if he has much fire, the next degree is the impossible. Now this is always the time for fixing the wager. But this requires the nicest management, otherwise very probably the dispute may anse to the old determination by battle. In these conceits I have been very fortunate, and have won some wages of those who have professedly valued themselves upon intelligence, and have put themselves to great charge and expense to be misinformed considerably sooner than the rest of the world. 'Having got a comfortable sum by this my opposition to public report, I have brought myself now to so great a perfection in attention, more especially to party-relation, that, at the same time I seem with greedy ears to devour up the discourse, I certainly do not know one word of it, but pursue my own course of thought, whether upon business or amusement, with much tranquillity; I say inattention, because a late act of parliament has secured all party-liars from the penalty of a wager, and consequently made it unprofitable to * Stat. 7 Anne, cap. 17.-By it all wagers laid upon a contingency relating to the war with France were de clared to be void. attend to them. However, good-breeding | description of such person is hid in the deobliges a man to maintain the figure of the keenest attention, the true posture of which in a coffee-house, I take to consist in leaning over a table with the edge of it pressing hard upon your stomach: for the more pain the narration is received with, the more gracious is your bending over; besides that the narrator thinks you forget your pain by the pleasure of hearing him. formity with which the angry man describes -Adjuro nunquam eam me deserturum; homines. Fort Knock has occasioned several very perplexed and inelegant heats and animosíties; and there was one the other day, in a coffee-house where I was, that took upon No. 522.] Wednesday, October 29, 1712. him to clear that business to me, for he said he was there. I knew him to be that sort of man that had not strength of capacity to be informed of any thing that depended merely upon his being an eye-witness, and therefore was fully satisfied he could give me no information, for the very same reason he believed he could, for he was there. However, I heard him with the same greediness as Shakspeare describes in the following lines: Non, si capiundos mihi sciam esse inimicos omnes adimet nemo. Ter. Andr. Act iv. Sc. 2. I swear never to forsake her; no, though I were sure to make all men my enemies. Her I desired; her I have obtained; our humours agree. Perish all those who would separate us! Death alone shall deprive me of her. I SHOULD esteem myself a very happy Iman if my speculation could in the least "I saw a smith stand on his hammer, thus, contribute to the rectifying the conduct of With open mouth, swallowing a taylor's news." my readers in one of the most important 'I confess of late I have not been so much affairs of life, to wit, their choice in maramazed at the declaimers in coffee-houses riage. This state is the foundation of comas I formerly was, being satisfied that they munity, and the chief band of society; and expect to be rewarded for their vocifera- I do not think I can be too frequent on subtions. Of these liars there are two sorts: jects which may give light to my unmarthe genius of the first consists in much im- ried readers in a particular which is so pudence, and a strong memory; the others essential to their following happiness or have added to these qualifications a good misery. A virtuous disposition, a good ununderstanding and smooth language. These derstanding, an agreeable person, and an therefore have only certain heads, which easy fortune, are the things which should they are as eloquent upon as they can, and be chiefly regarded on this occasion. Bemay be called "embellishers;" the others cause my present view is to direct a young repeat only what they hear from others as lady, who I think is now in doubt whom to literally as their parts or zeal will permit, take of many lovers, I shall talk at this and are called "reciters." Here was a time to my female readers. The advanfellow in town some years ago, who used to tages, as I was going to say, of sense, beauty, divert himself by telling a lie at Charing- and riches, are what are certainly the chief cross in the morning at eight of the clock, motives to a prudent young woman of forand following it through all parts of the tune for changing her condition; but, as she town until eight at night: at which time he is to have her eye upon each of these, she came to a club of his friends, and diverted is to ask herself, whether the man who has them with an account what censure it had most of these recommendations in the lump at Will's in Covent-garden, how dangerous is not the most desirable. He that has exit was believed to be at Child's, and what cellent talents, with a moderate estate, and inference they drew from it with relation to an agreeable person, is preferable to him stocks at Jonathan's. I have had the ho- who is only rich, if it were only that good nour to travel with this gentleman I speak faculties may purchase riches, but riches of, in search of one of his falsehoods; and cannot purchase worthy endowments. I do have been present when they have de-not mean that wit, and a capacity to enterscribed the very man they have spoken to, tain, is what should be highly valued, exas him who first reported it, tall or short, cept it is founded on good-nature and hublack or fair, a gentleman or a raggamuffin, manity. There are many ingenious men, according as they liked the intelligence. I whose abilities do little else but make themhave heard one of our ingenious writers of selves and those about them uneasy. Such news say, that, when he has had a customer are those who are far gone in the pleasures with an advertisement of an apprentice or of the town, who cannot support life witha wife run away, he has desired the ad-out quick sensations and gay reflections, vertiser to compose himself a little before he dictated the description of the offender: for when a person is put in a public paper by a man who is angry with him, the real VOL. II. 37 and are strangers to tranquillity, to right reason, and a calm motion of spirits, without transport or dejection. These ingenious men, of all men living, are most to be avoided by her who would be happy in a husband. They are immediately sated with possession, and must necessarily fly to new acquisitions of beauty to pass away the whiling moments and intervals of life; for with them every hour is heavy that is not joyful. But there is a sort of man of wit and sense, that can reflect upon his own make, and that of his partner, with eyes of reason and honour, and who believes he offends against both these, if he does not look upon the woman, who chose him to be under his protection in sickness and health, with the utmost gratitude, whether from that moment she is shining or defective in person or mind: I say, there are those who think themselves bound to supply with good-nature the failings of those who love them, and who always think those the objects of love and pity who came to their arms the objects of joy and admiration. Of this latter sort is Lysander, a man of wit, learning, sobriety, and good-nature; of birth and estate below no woman to accept; and of whom it might be said, should he succeed in his present wishes, his mistress raised his fortune, but not that she made it. When a woman is deliberating with herself whom she shall choose of many near each other in other pretensions, certainly he of best understanding is to be preferred. Life hangs heavily in the repeated conversation of one who has no imagination to be fired at the several occasions and objects which come before him, or who cannot strike out of his reflections new paths of pleasing discourse. Honest Will Thrush and his wife, though not married above four months, have scarce had a word to say to each other this six weeks, and one cannot form to one's self a sillier picture than these two creatures, in solemn pomp and plenty, unable to enjoy their fortunes, and at a full stop among a crowd of servants, to whose taste of life they are beholden for the little satisfactions by which they can be understood to be so much as barely in being: The hours of the day, the distinctions of noon and night, dinner and supper, are the greatest notices they are capable of. This is perhaps representing the life of a very modest woman, joined to a dull fellow, more insipid than it really deserves; but I am sure it is not to exalt the commerce with an ingenious companion too high, to say that every new accident or object, which comes in such a gentleman's way, gives his wife new pleasures and satisfactions. The approbation of his words and actions is a continual new feast to her; nor can she enough applaud her good fortune in having her life varied every hour, her mind more improved, and her heart more glad, from every circumstance which they meet with. He will lay out his invention in forming new pleasures and amusements, and make the fortune she had brought him subservient to the honour and reputation of her and hers. A man of sense, who is thus obliged, is ever contriving the happiness of her who did him so great a distinction; while the fool is ungrateful without vice, and never returns a favour because he is not sensible of it. I would, methinks, have so much to say for myself, that, if I fell into the hands of him who treated me ill, he should be sensible when he did so. His conscience should be of my side, whatever became of his inclination. I do not know but it is the insipid choice which has been made by those who have the care of young women, that the marriage state itself has been liable to so much ridicule. But a well-chosen love, moved by passion on both sides, and perfected by the generosity of one party, must be adorned with so many handsome incidents on the other side, that every particular couple would be an example, in many circumstances, to all the rest of the species. I shall end the chat upon this subject with a couple of letters; one from a lover, who is very well acquainted with the way of bargaining on these occasions; and the other from his rival, who has a less estate, but great gallantry of temper. As to my man of prudence, he makes love, as he says, as if he were already a father, and, laying aside the passion, comes to the reason of the thing. 'MADAM,-My counsel has perused the what estate you have, which it seems is inventory of your estate, and considered only yours, and to the male-heirs of your body; but, in default of such issue, to the right heirs of your uncle Edward for ever. Thus, madam, I am advised you cannot (the remainder not being in you) dock the entail; by which means my estate, which is fee simple, will come by the settlement whether they are males or females: but my proposed to your children begotten by me, children begotten upon you will not inherit your lands, except I beget a son. Now, madam, since things are so, you are a woworld so well, as not to expect I should man of that prudence, and understand the give you more than you can give me. I am, madam, (with great respect,) your most 'T. W.' obedient servant, |