'I, George Gloom, having for a long time been troubled with the spleen, and being advised by my friends to put myself into a course of Steele, did for that end make use of the remedies conveyed to me several mornings, in short letters, from the hands of the invisible doctor. They were marked at the bottom Nathaniel Henroost, Alice Threadneedle, Rebecca Nettletoy, Tom Loveless, Mary Meanwell, Thomas Smoky, Anthony Freeman, Tom Meggot, Rustic Sprightly, &c. which have had so good an effect upon me, that I now find myself cheerful, lightsome, and easy; and therefore do recommend them to all such as labour under the same distemper.'

Not having room to insert all the advertisements which were sent me, I have only picked out some few from the third vofume, reserving the fourth for another opportunity.

0.

No. 548.] Friday, November 28, 1712.

-Vitiis nemo sine nascitur, optimus ille
Qui minimis urgetur. Hor. Sat. iii. Lib. 1. 68.
There's none but has some fault; and he's the best,
Most virtuous he that's spotted with the least.

have read it with the same attention I have done, will think there is nothing to be objected against it. I have however drawn up some additional arguments to strengthen the opinion which you have there delivered, having endeavoured to go to the bottom of the matter, which you may either publish or suppress as you think fit.

Horace, in my motto, says, that all men are vicious, and that they differ from one another only as they are more or less so. Boileau has given the same account of our wisdom, as Horace has of our virtue:

"Tous les hommes sont fous, et malgre tous leurs soins Ne different entre eux, que de plus et du moins."

"All men," says he, "are fools, and, in spite of their endeavours to the contrary, differ from one another only as they are more or less so.

'Two or three of the old Greek poets have given the same turn to a sentence which describes the happiness of man in this life:

66 Το ζην αλύπως, ανδρός εστιν ευτυχούς. "That man is most happy who is the least miserable.”

'It will not perhaps be unentertaining to the polite reader to observe how these three beautiful sentences are formed upon different subjects, by the same way of thinking; but I shall return to the first of them.

Creech. Nov. 27, 1712. 'MR. SPECTATOR,-I have read this 'Our goodness being of a comparative day's paper with a great deal of pleasure, and not an absolute nature, there is none and could send you an account of several who in strictness can be called a virtuous elixirs and antidotes in your third volume, man. Every one has in him a natural alloy, which your correspondents have not taken though one may be fuller of dross than annotice of in their advertisements; and at the other: for this reason I cannot think it right same time must own to you, that I have to introduce a perfect or a faultless man seldom seen a shop furnished with such a upon the stage; not only because such a variety of medicaments, and in which character is improper to move compassion, there are fewer soporifics. The several but because there is no such thing in navehicles you have invented for conveying ture. This might probably be one reason your unacceptable truths to us, are what I why the Spectator in one of his papers took most particularly admire, as I am afraid notice of that late invented term called they are secrets which will die with you. poetical justice, and the wrong notions into I do not find that any of our critical essays which it has led some tragic writers. The are taken notice of in this paper, notwith-most perfect man has vices enough to draw standing I look upon them to be excellent down punishments upon his head, and to cleansers of the brain, and could venture to justify Providence in regard to any misesuperscribe them with an advertisementries that may befall him. For this reason which I have lately seen in one of your I cannot think but that the instruction and newspapers, wherein there is an account moral are much finer, where a man who is given of a sovereign remedy for restoring virtuous in the main of his character falls the taste to all such persons whose palates into distress, and sinks under the blows of have been vitiated by distempers, unwhole- fortune at the end of a tragedy, than when some food, or any the like occasions. But he is represented as happy and triumphto let fall the allusion, notwithstanding your ant. Such an example corrects the insocriticisms, and particularly the candour lence of human nature, softens the mind of which you have discovered in them, are the beholder with sentiments of pity and not the least taking part of your works, I compassion, comforts him under his own find your opinion concerning poetical jus- private affliction, and teaches him not to tice, as it is expressed in the first part or judge of men's virtues by their success. I your fortieth Spectator, is controverted by cannot think of one real hero in all antisome eminent critics; and as you now quity so far raised above human infirmities, seem, to our great grief of heart, to be that he might not be very naturally reprewinding up your bottoms, I hoped you sented in a tragedy as plunged in misforwould have enlarged a little upon that sub-tunes and calamities. The poet may still ject. It is indeed but a single paragraph find out some prevailing passion or indisin your works, and I believe those who cretion in his character, and show it in

such a manner as will sufficiently acquit | minal that they can have no claim or prethe gods of any injustice in his sufferings. tence to happiness. The best of men may For, as Horace observes in my text, the deserve punishment, but the worst of men best man is faulty, though not in so great a cannot deserve happiness. degree as those whom we generally call vicious men.

If such a strict poetical justice as some No. 549.] Saturday, November 29, 1712. gentlemen insist upon was to be observed in this art, there is no manner of reason why it should not extend to heroic poetry as well as tragedy. But we find it so little observed in Homer, that his Achilles is placed in the greatest point of glory and success, though his character is morally vicious, and only poetically good, if I may use the phrase of our modern critics. The Eneid is filled with innocent, unhappy persons. Nisus and Euryalus, Lausus and Pallas, come all to unfortunate ends. The poet takes notice in particular, that, in the sacking of Troy, Ripheus fell, who was the most just man among the Trojans.

ANDREW FREEPORT.'

The club of which I am a member being entirely dispersed, I shall consult my reader next week upon a project relating to the

institution of a new one.

0.

I could not but approve so good a resolu- | finding out a convenient place where I may tion, notwithstanding the loss I shall suffer build an almshouse, which I intend to enby it. Sir Andrew has since explained dow very handsomely for a dozen superhimself to me more at large in the follow- annuated husbandmen. It will be a great ing letter, which is just come to my hands. pleasure to me to say my prayers twice a day with men of my own years, who all of 'GOOD MR. SPECTATOR,-Notwithstand- them, as well as myself, may have their ing my friends at the club have always thoughts taken up how they shall die, rallied me, when I have talked of retiring rather than how they shall live. I rememfrom business, and repeated to me one ber an excellent saying that I learned at of my own sayings, that "a merchant has school, Finis coronat opus. You know best never enough until he has got a little whether it be in Virgil or in Horace, it is more;" I can now inform you, that there my business to apply it. If your affairs will is one in the world who thinks he has permit you to take the country air with me enough, and is determined to pass the re- sometimes, you will find an apartment fitmainder of his life in the enjoyment of what ted up for you, and shall be every day enhe has. You know me so well, that I need tertained with beef or mutton of my own not tell you I mean, by the enjoyment of feeding; fish out of my own ponds; and my possessions, the making of them useful fruit out of my own gardens. You shall to the public. As the greatest part of my have free egress and regress about my estate has been hitherto of an unsteady and house, without having any questions asked volatile nature, either tost upon seas or you; and in a word, such a hearty welcome fluctuating in funds, it is now fixed and set- as you may expect from your most sincere tled in substantial acres and tenements. I friend and humble servant, have removed it from the uncertainty of stocks, winds, and waves, and disposed of it in a considerable purchase. This will give me great opportunity of being charitable in my way, that is, in setting my poor neighbours to work, and giving them a comfortable subsistence out of their own industry. My gardens, my fish-ponds, my arable and pasture grounds, shall be my several hospitals, or rather work-houses, in which I propose to maintain a great many indigent persons, who are now staryHor. Ars Poet. ver. 138. ing in my neighbourhood. I have got a In what will all this ostentation end?-Roscommon, fine spread of improvable lands, and in my own thoughts am already plowing up some SINCE the late dissolution of the club, of them, fencing others; planting woods, whereof I have often declared myself a and draining marshes. In fine, as I have member, there are very many persons who my share in the surface of this island, I am by letters, petitions, and recommendations, resolved to make it as beautiful a spot as put up for the next election. At the same any in her majesty's dominions; at least time I must complain, that several indirect there is not an inch of it which shall not be and underhand practices have been made cultivated to the best advantage, and do its use of upon this occasion. A certain counutmost for its owner. As in my mercantile try gentleman began to tap upon the first employment I so disposed of my affairs, information he received of Sir Roger's that, from whatever corner of the compass death; when he sent me up word that, if I the wind blew, it was bringing home one or would get him chosen in the place of the other of my ships; I hope as a husband- deceased, he would present me with a barman to contrive it so, that not a shower of rel of the best October I had ever tasted in rain or a glimpse of sunshine shall fall upon my life. The ladies are in great pain to my estate without bettering some part of know whom I intend to elect in the room it, and contributing to the products of the of Will Honeycomb. Some of them indeed season. You know it has been hitherto my are of opinion that Mr. Honeycomb did not opinion of life, that it is thrown away when take sufficient care of their interest in the it is not some way useful to others. But club, and are therefore desirous of having when I am riding out by myself, in the in it hereafter a representative of their own fresh air, on the open heath that lies by my sex. A citizen who subscribes himself Y. house, I find several other thoughts grow-Z. tells me that he has one-and-twenty ing up in me. I am now of opinion, that a man of my age may find business enough on himself, by setting his mind in order, preparing it for another world, and reconciling it to the thoughts of death. I must therefore acquaint you, that besides those usual methods of charity, of which I have before spoken, I am at this very instant

No. 550.] Monday, December 1, 1712.
Quid dignum tanto feret hic promissor hiatu?

shares in the African company, and offers to bribe me with the odd one in case he may succeed Sir Andrew Freeport, which he thinks would raise the credit of that fund. I have several letters, dated from Jenny Man's, by gentlemen who are candidates for captain Sentry's place; and as many from a coffee-house in St. Paul's

church-yard of such who would fill up the vacancy occasioned by the death of my worthy friend the clergyman, whom I can never mention but with a particular respect.

Having maturely weighed these several particulars, with the many remonstrances that have been made to me on this subject, and considering how invidious an office I shall take upon me if I make the whole election depend upon my single voice, and being unwilling to expose myself to those clamours, which on such an occasion will not

fail to be raised against me for partiality, No. 551.] Tuesday, December 2, 1712. injustice, corruption, and other qualities, which my nature abhors, I have formed to myself the project of a club as follows.

I have thoughts of issuing out writs to all and every of the clubs that are established in the cities of London and Westminster, requiring them to choose out of their respective bodies a person of the greatest merit, and to return his name to me before Lady-day, at which time I intend to sit upon business.

By this means I may have reason to hope, that the club over which I shall preside will be the very flower and quintessence of all other clubs. I have communicated this my project to none but a particular friend of mine, whom I have celebrated twice or thrice for his happiness in that kind of wit which is commonly known by the name of a pun. The only objection he makes to it is, that I shall raise up enemies to myself if I act with so regal an air, and that my detractors, instead of giving me the usual title of Spectator, will be apt to call me the King of Clubs.

But to proceed on my intended project: it is very well known that I at first set forth in this work with the character of a silent man; and I think I have so well preserved my taciturnity, that I do not remember to have violated it with three sentences in the space of almost two years. As a monosyllable is my delight, I have made very few excursions, in conversations which I have related, beyond a Yes or a No. By this means my readers have lost many good things which I have had in my heart, though I did not care for uttering them.

Now in order to diversify my character, and to show the world how well I can talk if I have a mind, I have thoughts of being very loquacious in the club which I have now under consideration. But that I may proceed the more regularly in this affair, I design, upon the first meeting of the said club, to have my mouth opened in form; intending to regulate myself in this particular by a certain ritual which I have by me, that contains all the ceremonies which are practised at the opening of the mouth of a cardinal. I have likewise examined the forms which were used of old by Pythagoras, when any of his scholars, after an apprenticeship of silence, was made free of his speech. In the mean time, as I have VOL. II.

42

Sic honor et nomen divinis vatibus atque,
Carminibus venit.

Hor. Ars Poet. ver. 400.

So ancient is the pedigree of verse, And so divine a poet's function.-Roscommon 'MR. SPECTATOR,-When men of worthy and excelling geniuses have obliged the world with beautiful and instructive writings, it is in the nature of gratitude that praise should be returned them, as one proper consequent reward of their performances. Nor has mankind ever been so degenerately sunk, but they have made this return, and even when they have not been wrought up by the generous endeavours so as to receive the advantages designed by it. This praise, which arises first in the mouth of particular persons, spreads and lasts according to the merit of authors; and, when it thus meets with a full success, changes its denomination, and is called fame. They, who have happily arrived at this, are, even while they live, inflamed by the acknowledgments of others, and spurred on to new undertakings for the benefit of mankind, notwithstanding the detraction which some abject tempers would cast upon them: but when they decease, their characters being free from the shadow which envy laid them under, begin to shine with the greater splendour; their spirits survive in their works; they are admitted into the highest companies, and they continue pleasing and instructing posterity from age to age. Some of the best gain a character, by being able to show that they are no strangers to them; and others obtain a new warmth to labour for the happiness and ease of mankind, from a reflection upon those honours which are paid to their memories.

The thought of this took me up as I turned over those epigrams which are the remains of several of the wits of Greece, and perceived many dedicated to the fame of those who had excelled in beautiful poetic performances. Wherefore, in pursuance to my thought, I concluded to do something along with them to bring their praises into a new light and language, for the encouragement of those whose modest tempers may be deterred by the fear of envy or detraction from fair attempts, to which their parts might render them equal. You will perceive them as they follow to be conceived in the form of epí

when we light upon such a turn, we join it with something that circumscribes and bounds it to the qualities of our subject. He who gives his praise in gross, will often appear either to have been a stranger to those he writes upon, or not to have found any thing in them which is praise-worthy.

taphs, a sort of writing which is wholly set | particular character. It would be better if, apart for a short-pointed method of praise. ON ORPHEUS, WRITTEN BY ANTIPATER. "No longer, Orpheus, shall thy sacred strains Lead stones, and trees, and beasts along the plains; No longer sooth the boisterous winds to sleep, Or still the billows of the raging deep; For thou art gone. The Muses mourn thy fall In solemn strains, thy mother most of all. Ye mortals, idly for your sons ye moan, If thus a goddess could not save her own."

'Observe here, that if we take the fable for granted, as if it was believed to be in that age when the epigram was written, the turn appears to have piety to the gods, and a resigning spirit in its application. But if we consider the point with respect to our present knowledge, it will be less esteemed; though the author himself, because he believed it, may still be more valued than any one who should now write with a point of the same nature.

ON HOMER, BY ALPHEUS OF MYTILENE.
"Still in our ears Andromache complains,
And still in sight the fate of Troy remains;
Still Ajax fights, still Hector's dragg'd along:
Such strange enchantment dwells in Homer's song;
Whose birth could more than one poor realm adorn,
For all the world is proud that he was born."

The thought in the first part of this is natural, and depending upon the force of poesy; in the latter part it looks as if it would aim at the history of seven towns contending for the honour of Homer's birthplace; but when you expect to meet with that common story, the poet slides by, and raises the whole world for a kind of arbiter, which is to end the contention amongst its several parts.

ON ANACREON, BY ANTIPATER.
"This tomb be thine, Anacreon! All around
Let ivy wreathe, let flow'rets deck the ground;
And from its earth, enrich'd with such a prize,
Let wells of milk and streams of wine arise:
So will thine ashes yet a pleasure know,
If any pleasure reach the shades below."

The poet here written upon is an easy gay author, and he who writes upon him has filled his own head with the character of his subject. He seems to love his theme so much, that he thinks of nothing but pleasing him as if he were still alive, by entering into his libertine spirit; so that the humour is easy and gay, resembling Anacreon in its air, raised by such images, and pointed with such a turn as he might have used. I give it a place here, because the author may have designed it for his honour; and I take an opportunity from it to advise others, that when they would praise they cautiously avoid every looser qualification, and fix only where there is a real foundation in merit.

ON EURIPIDES, BY ION. "Divine Euripides, this tomb we see So fair, is not a monument for thee, So much as thou for it; since all will own Thy name and lasting praise adorn the stone." "The thought here is fine, but its fault is, that it is general, that it may belong to any great man, because it points out no

ON SOPHOCLES, BY SIMONIDES.
"Winde, gentle ever-green, to form a shade
Around the tomb where Sophocles is laid:
Sweet ivy winde thy boughs, and intertwine
With blushing roses and the clust'ring vine:
Thus will thy lasting leaves, with beauties bung,
Prove grateful emblems of the lays he sung;
Whose soul, exalted like a god of wit,

Among the Muses and the Graces writ."

This epigram I have opened more than any of the former: the thought towards the latter end seemed closer couched, so as to require an explanation. I fancied the poet aimed at the picture which is generally made of Apollo and the Muses, he sitting with his harp in the middle, and they around him. This looked beautiful to my thought, and because the image arose before me out of the words of the original as I was reading it, I ventured to explain them so.

ON MENANDER, THE AUTHOR UNNAMED.
"The very bees, O sweet Menander hung
To taste the Muses' spring upon thy tongue;
The very Graces made the scenes you writ
Their happy point of fine expression hit.
Thus still you live, you make your Athens shine,
And raise its glory to the skies in thine."

racter of its subject; for Menander writ re-
'This epigram has a respect to the cha-
markably with a justness and purity of lan-
guage. It has also told the country he was
born in, without either a set or a hidden
manner, while it twists together the glory
of the poet and his nation, so as to make the
nation depend upon his for an increase of
its own.

'I will offer no more instances at present to show that they who deserve praise have it returned them from different ages: let these which have been laid down show men that envy will not always prevail. And to the end that writers may more successfully enliven the endeavours of one another, let them consider, in some such manner as I have attempted, what may be the justest spirit and art of praise. It is indeed very hard to come up to it. Our praise is trifling when it depends upon fable; it is false when it depends upon wrong qualifications; it means nothing when it is general; it is extremely difficult to hit when we propose to raise characters high, while we keep to them justly. I shall end this with tran scribing that excellent epitaph of Mr. Cowley, wherein, with a kind of grave and philosophic humour, he very beautifully speaks of himself (withdrawn from the world, and dead to all the interests of it,) as of a man really deceased. At the same time it is an instruction how to leave the public with a good grace.