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Yet this is generally the case. A bloody battle alarms the town from one end to another in an instant. Every motion of the French is published in so great a hurry, that one would think the enemy were at our gates. This likewise I would take upon me to regulate in such a manner, that there should be some distinction made between the spreading of a victory, a march, or an encampment; a Dutch, a Portugal, or a Spanish mail. Nor must I omit under this head those excessive alarms with which several boisterous rustics infest our streets in turnip-season; and which are more inexcusable, because these are wares which are in no danger of cooling upon their hands.

There are others who affect a very slow time, and are in my opinion much more tuneable than the former. The cooper in particular swells his last note in a hollow voice, that is not without its harmony; nor can I forbear being inspired with a most agreeable melancholy, when I hear that sad and solemn air with which the public are very often asked, if they have any chairs to mend? Your own memory may suggest to you many other lamentable ditties of the same nature, in which the music is wonderfully languishing and melodious.

I am always pleased with that particular time of the year which is proper for the pickling of dill and cucumbers; but alas! this cry, like the song of the nightingale, is not heard above two months. It would therefore be worth while to consider; whether the same air might not in some cases be adapted to other words.

apples of a bellows-mender, and gingerbread from a grinder of knives and scissors. Nay, so strangely infatuated are some very eminent artists of this particular grace in a cry, that none but their acquaintance are able to guess at their profession: for who else can know, that "work if I had it,” should be the signification of a corn-cutter.

For as much therefore as persons of this rank are seldom men of genius or capacity, I think it would be very proper that some man of good sense and sound judgment should preside over these public cries, who should permit none to lift up their voices in our streets, that have not tuneable throats, and are not only able to overcome the noise of the crowd, and the rattling of coaches, but also to vend their respective merchandises in apt phrases, and in the most distinct and agreeable sounds. I do therefore humbly recommend myself as a person rightly qualified for this post; and if I meet with fitting encouragement, shall communicate some other projects which I have by me, that may no less conduce to the emolument of the public. I am, sir, &c. C.

RALPH CROTCHET.'

No. 252.] Wednesday, December 19, 1711. Erranti, passimque oculos per cuncta ferenti. Virg. Æn. ii. 570.* Exploring every place with curious eyes. 'MR. SPECTATOR,-I am very sorry to find by your discourse upon the eye, that you have not thoroughly studied the nature 'It might likewise deserve our most and force of that part of a beauteous face. serious consideration, how far, in a well Had you ever been in love, you would have regulated city, those humorists are to be said ten thousand things, which it seems tolerated, who, not contented with the tra- did not occur to you. Do but reflect upon ditional cries of their forefathers, have in- the nonsense it makes men talk, the flames vented particular songs and tunes of their which it is said to kindle, the transport it own: such as was not many years since, raises, the dejection it causes in the bravest the pastry-man, commonly known by the men; and if you do believe those things are name of the Colly-Molly-Puff;* and such expressed to an extravagance, yet you will as is at this day the vender of powder and own that the influence of it is very great, wash-balls, who, if I am rightly informed, which moves men to that extravagance. goes under the name of Powder-Watt. Certain it is, that the whole strength of the "I must not here omit one particular ab-mind is sometimes seated there; that a kind surdity which runs through this whole vo- look imparts all that a year's discourse ciferous generation, and which renders their could give you, in one moment. What matcries very often not only incommodious, but ters it what she says to you, "see how she altogether useless to the public. I mean, looks," is the language of all who know that idle accomplishment which they all of what love is. When the mind is thus sumthem aim at, of crying so as not to be un-med up and expressed in a glance, did you derstood. Whether or no they have learned this from several of our affected singers, I will not take upon me to say; but most certain it is, that people know the wares they deal in rather by their tunes than by their words; insomuch that I have sometimes seen a country-boy run out to buy

This little man was but just able to support the basket of pastry which he carried on his head, and sung in a very peculiar tone the cant words which passed into his name, Colly-Molly-Puff. There is a half sheet print of him in the Set of London Cries, M. Lauron, del P. Tempest, cxe. Granger's Biographical History of England.

never observe a sudden joy arise in the countenance of a lover. Did you never see the attendance of years paid, overpaid, in an instant? You a Spectator, and not know that the intelligence of affection is carried on by the eye only; that good-breeding has made the tongue falsify the heart, and act

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a part of continual restraint, while nature | have heard many eminent pleaders in my has preserved the eyes to herself, that she time, as well as other eloquent speakers of may not be disguised or misrepresented. both universities, yet I agree with you, that The poor bride can give her hand and say, women are better qualified to succeed in "I do," with a languishing air, to the man oratory than the men, and believe this is to she is obliged by cruel parents to take for be resolved into natural causes. You have mercenary reasons, but at the same time mentioned only the volubility of their she cannot look as if she loved: her eye is tongues: but what do you think of the silent full of sorrow, and reluctance sits in a tear, flattery of their pretty faces, and the perwhile the offering of a sacrifice is perform-suasion which even an insipid discourse ed in what we call the marriage ceremony. carries with it when flowing from beautiful Do you never go to plays? Cannot you dis- lips, to which it would be cruel to deny any tinguish between the eyes of those who go thing? It is certain, too, that they are posto see, from those who come to be seen? I sessed of some springs of rhetoric which am a woman turned of thirty, and am on men want, such as tears, fainting-fits, and the observation a little; therefore if you, or the like, which I have seen employed upon your correspondent, had consulted me in occasion, with good success. You must your discourse on the eye, I could have told know that I am a plain man, and love my you that the eye of Leonora is slily watch-money; yet I have a spouse who is so great ful while it looks negligent; she looks round an orator in this way, that she draws from her without the help of the glasses you me what sums she pleases. Every room in speak of, and yet seems to be employed on my house is furnished with trophies of her objects directly before her. This eye is eloquence, rich cabinets, piles of china, what affects chance-medley, and on a sud- japan screens, and costly jars; and if you den, as if it attended to another thing, turns were to come into my great parlour, you all its charms against an ogler. The eye of would fancy yourself in an India warehouse. Lusitania is an instrument of premeditated Besides this, she keeps a squirrel, and I murder; but the design being visible, de- am doubly taxed to pay for the china he stroys the execution of it; and with much breaks. She is seized with periodical fits more beauty than that of Leonora, it is not about the time of the subscriptions to a new half so mischievous. There is a brave sol-opera, and is drowned in tears after having dier's daughter in town, that by her eye seen any woman there in finer clothes than has been the death of more than ever her herself. These are arts of persuasion purely father made fly before him. A beautiful feminine, and which a tender heart cannot eye makes silence eloquent, a kind eye resist. What I would therefore desire of makes contradiction an assent, an enraged you, is, to prevail with your friend who has eye makes beauty deformed. This little promised to dissect a female tongue, that member gives life to every other part about he would at the same time give us the anatomy us, and I believe the story of Argus im- of a female eye, and explain the springs and plies no more, than that the eye is in every sluices which feed it with such ready suppart; that is to say, every other part would plies of moisture; and likewise show by be mutilated, were not its force represent-what means, if possible, they may be stoped more by the eye than even by itself. ped at a reasonable expense. Or indeed, But this is heathen Greek to those who since there is something so moving in the have not conversed by glances. This, sir, very image of weeping beauty, it would be is a language in which there can be no de-worthy his art to provide, that these eloceit, nor can a skilful observer be imposed upon by looks, even among politicians and courtiers. If you do me the honour to print this among your speculations, I shall in my next make you a present of secret history, by translating all the looks of the next assembly of ladies and gentlemen into words, to adorn some future paper. I am, sir, your No. 253.] Thursday, December 20, 1711. faithful friend,

MARY HEARTFREE.'

'MR. SPECTATOR,-I have a sot of a husband that lives a very scandalous life; who wastes away his body and fortune in debaucheries; and is immoveable to all the arguments I can urge to him. I would gladly know whether in some cases a cudgel may not be allowed as a good figure of speech, and whether it may not be lawfully used by a female orator. Your humble servant, BARBARA CRABTREE.'

'MR. SPECTATOR,-Though I am a practitioner in the law of some standing, and

quent drops may no more be lavished on trifles, or employed as servants to their wayward wills: but reserved for serious occasions in life, to adorn generous pity, true penitence, or real sorrow. I am, &c.' T.

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is very natural for such as have not succeeded in it to depreciate the works of those who have. For since they cannot raise themselves to the reputation of their fellow-writers, they must endeavour to sink that to their own pitch, if they would still keep themselves upon a level with them. The greatest wits that ever were produced in one age, lived together in so good an understanding, and celebrated one another with so much generosity, that each of them receives an additional lustre from his contemporaries, and is more famous for having lived with men of so extraordinary a genius, than if he had himself been the sole wonder of the age. I need not tell my reader that I here point at the reign of Augustus, and I believe he will be of my opinion, that neither Virgil nor Horace would have gained so great a reputation in the world, had they not been the friends and admirers of each other. Indeed all the great writers of that age, for whom singly we have so great an esteem, stand up together as vouchers for one another's reputation. But at the same time that Virgil was celebrated by Gallus, Propertius, Horace, Varius, Tucca, and Ovid, we know that Bavius and Mævius were his declared foes and calumniators.

In our own country a man seldom sets up for a poet, without attacking the reputation of all his brothers in the art. The ignorance of the moderns, the scribblers of the age, the decay of poetry, are the topics of detraction with which he makes his entrance into the world: but how much more noble is the fame that is built on candour and ingenuity, according to those beautiful lines of Sir John Denham, in his poem on Fletcher's works!

But whither am I stray'd? I need not raise
Trophies to thee from other men's dispraise:
Nor is thy fame on lesser ruins built,
Nor needs thy juster title the foul guilt
Of Eastern kings, who, to secure their reign,
Must have their brothers, sons, and kindred slain.

kind. The observations follow one another

mention what Monsieur Boileau has so very well enlarged upon in the preface to his works, that wit and fine writing do not consist so much in advancing things that are new, as in giving things that are known an agreeable turn. It is impossible for us, who live in the later ages of the world, to make observations in criticism, morality, or in any art or science, which have not been touched upon by others. We have little else left us, but to represent the common sense of mankind in more strong, more beautiful, or more uncommon lights. If a reader examines Horace's Art of Poetry, he will find but very few precepts in it, which he may not meet with in Aristotle, and which were not commonly known by all the poets of the Augustan age. His way of expressing and applying them, not his invention of them, is what we are chiefly to admire.

For this reason I think there is nothing in the world so tiresome as the works of those critics who write in a positive dogmatic way, without either language, genius, or imagination. If the reader would see how the best of the Latin critics wrote, he may find their manner very beautifully described in the characters of Horace, Petronius, Quintilian, and Longinus, as they are drawn in the essay of which I am now speaking.

Since I have mentioned Longinus, who in his reflections has given us the same kind of sublime which he observes in the several passages that occasioned them; I cannot but take notice that our English author has, after the same manner, exemplified several of his precepts in the very precepts themselves. I shall produce two or three instances of this kind. Speaking of the insipid smoothness which some readers are so much in love with, he has the following verses:

These equal syllables alone require,
Tho' oft the ear the open vowels tire,
While expletives their feeble aid do join,
And ten low words oft creep in one dull line.

A needless Alexandrine ends the song,

That like a wounded snake drags its slow length along. And afterwards,

I am sorry to find that an author, who is very justly esteemed among the best judges, has admitted some strokes of this nature line, the expletive 'do,' in the third, and The gaping of the vowels in the second into a very fine poem; I mean the Art the ten monosyllables in the fourth, give of Criticism, which was published some such a beauty to this passage, as would months since, and is a master-piece in its have been very much admired in an ancient like those in Horace's Art of Poetry, with-poet. The reader may observe the followout that methodical regularity which would ing lines in the same view: have been requisite in a prose author. They are some of them uncommon, but such as the reader must assent to, when he sees them explained with that elegance and perspicuity in which they are delivered. As for those which are the most known, and the most received, they are placed in so beautiful a light, and illustrated with such apt allusions, that they have in them all the graces of novelty, and make the reader, who was before acquainted with them, still more convinced of their truth and solidity. And here give me leave to

"Tis not enough no harshness gives offence,
The sound must seem an echo to the sense.
Soft is the strain when Zephyr gently blows,
And the smooth stream in smoother numbers flows:
But when loud surges lash the sounding shore,
The hoarse rough verse should like the torrent roar.
When Ajax strives some rock's vast weight to throw,
The line too labours, and the words move slow;
Not so, when swift Camilla scours the plain,
Flies o'er th' unbending corn, and skims along the
main.

The beautiful distich upon Ajax in the

foregoing lines, puts me in mind of a de-
scription in Homer's Odyssey, which none
of the critics have taken notice of It is
where Sisyphus is represented lifting his
stone up the hill, which is no sooner carried
to the top of it, but it immediately tumbles
to the bottom. This double motion of the
stone is admirably described in the num-
bers of these verses; as in the four first it
is heaved up by several spondees, inter-
mixed with proper breathing places, and
at last trundles down in a continued line of
dactyls:

Και μην Σισυφον, εισείδον, κρατερο αλγε' έχοντα,
Λααν βαστάζοντα πελώριον αμφοτέρησιν.
Ήτοι ο μεν σκηριπτομένος χερσιν τε πόσιν τε,
Λααν άνω ωίεσκε ποτε λοφον, αλλ' οτε μελλο
Ακρον υπερβαλέειν, τοτ' αποστρέψασκε Κραταιις,
Αυτός επειτα πεδονδε κυλινδετό λαας αναιδης.

Odyss. 1. 11.

I turn'd my eye, and as I turn'd survey'd
A mournful vision, the Sisyphian shade:
With many a weary step, and many a groan,
Up the high hill he heaves a huge round stone:
The huge round stone, resulting with a bound,
Thunders impetuous down, and smokes along the
ground.
Pope.

grogram gown, the spouse of your parish vicar, who has by this time, I am sure, well furnished you with receipts for making salves and possets, distilling cordial waters, making syrups, and applying poultices.

Blest solitude! I wish thee joy, my dear, of thy loved retirement, which indeed you would persuade me is very agreeable, and different enough from what I have here described: but, child, I am afraid thy brains are a little disordered with romances and novels. After six months marriage to hear thee talk of love, and paint the country scenes so softly, is a little extravagant; one would think you lived the lives of sylvan deities, or roved among the walks of Paradise, like the first happy pair. But pray thee leave these whimsies, and come to town in order to live and talk like other mortals. However, as I am extremely interested in your reputation, I would willingly give you a little good advice at your first appearance under the character of a married woman. It is a little insolent in It would be endless to quote verses out me, perhaps, to advise a matron; but I am of Virgil which have this particular kind so afraid you will make so silly a figure as of beauty in the numbers: but I may take a fond wife, that I cannot help warning you an occasion in a future paper to show not to appear in any public places with several of them which have escaped the St. James's Park together; if you presume your husband, and never to saunter about observation of others. to enter the ring at Hyde Park together, you are ruined for ever; nor must you take the least notice of one another at the playhouse or opera, unless you would be laughed at for a very loving couple, most happily paired in the yoke of wedlock. I would recommend the example of an acquaintance of ours to your imitation; she is the most negligent and fashionable wife in the world; she is hardly ever seen in the same place with her husband, and if they happen to meet, you would think them perfect him in his absence; and takes care he shall strangers; she was never heard to name never be the subject of any discourse that she has a share in. I hope you will propose this lady as a pattern, though I am very much afraid you will be so silly to think Portia, &c., Sabine and Roman wives, much brighter examples. I wish it may never come into your head to imitate those antiquated creatures, so far as to come into public in the habit as well as air of a Ro

I cannot conclude this paper without taking notice that we have three poems in our tongue, which are of the same nature, and each of them a master-piece in its kind; the *Essay on Translated Verse, the Essay on the Art of Poetry, and the Essay upon Criticism.

C.

No. 254.] Friday, December 21, 1711.

Σεμνος έρως αρετης, ο δε κυπριδος αχος οφελλει.

Virtuous love is honourable, but lust increaseth sorrow. WHEN I consider the false impressions which are received by the generality of the world, I am troubled at none more than a certain levity of thought, which many young women of quality have entertained, to the hazard of their characters, and the certain misfortune of their lives. The first of the following letters may best represent the faults I would now point at, and the answer to it, the temper of mind in a con-man matron. You make already the entrary character.

'MY DEAR HARRIOT,-If thou art she, but oh how fallen, how changed, what an apostate! how lost to all that is gay and agreeable! To be married I find is to be buried alive; I cannot conceive it more dismal to be shut up in a vault to converse with the shades of my ancestors, than to be carried down to an old manor-house in the country, and confined to the conversation of a sober husband, and an awkward chambermaid. For variety, I suppose you may entertain yourself with madam in her

* By the Earl of Roscommon.

tertainment at Mrs. Modish's tea-table; she says she always thought you a discreet person, and qualified to manage a family with admirable prudence; she dies to see what demure and serious airs wedlock has given you, but she says, she shall never forgive your choice of so gallant a man as Bellamour, to transform him into a mere sober husband: it was unpardonable. You see, my dear, we all envy your happiness, and no person more than your humble servant,

LYDIA.'

Be not in pain, good madam, for my appearance in town; I shall frequent no

I am sorry I cannot answer this impatient gentleman but by another question. DEAR CORRESPONDENT.-Would you marry to please other people, or yourself?

public places or make any visit where the character of a moderate wife is ridiculous. As for your wild raillery on matrimony, it is all hypocrisy; you, and all the handsome young women of your acquaintance, show yourselves to no other purpose than to gain a conquest over some man of worth, in order to bestow your charms and fortune on No. 255.] Saturday, December 22, 1711.

him. There is no indecency in the confession, the design is modest and honourable, and all your affectation cannot disguise it.

T.

Laudis amore tumes? sunt certa piacula, quæ te
Ter pure lecto poterunt recreare libello.

of the passions is to stir it up, and to put it upon action, to awaken the understanding, to enforce the will, and to make the whole man more vigorous and attentive in the prosecution of his designs. As this is the end of the passions in general, so it is particularly of ambition, which pushes the soul to such actions as are apt to procure honour and reputation to the actor. But if we carry our reflections higher, we may discover farther ends of Providence in implanting this passion in mankind.

Hor. Ep. 1. Lib. 1. ver. 36. 'I am married, and have no other conIMITATED. cern but to please the man I love; he is the Know there are rhymes, which (fresh and fresh apply'd) end of every care I have; if I dress, it is for Will cure the arrant'st puppy of his pride.-Pope. him; if I read a poem, or a play, it is to THE Soul, considered abstractedly from qualify myself for a conversation agreeable its passions, is of a remiss and sedentary to his taste: he is almost the end of my de- nature, slow in its resolves, and languishvotions; half my prayers are for his happi-ing in its executions. The use therefore ness-I love to talk of him, and never hear him named but with pleasure and emotion. I am your friend, and wish your happiness, but am sorry to see, by the air of your letter, that there are a set of women who are got into the common-place raillery of every thing that is sober, decent, and proper; matrimony and the clergy are the topics of people of little wit, and no understanding. I own to you I have learned of the vicar's wife all you tax me with. She is a discreet, ingenious, pleasant, pious woman; I wish she had the handling of you and Mrs. Modish; you would find, if you were too free with her, she would soon make you as charming as ever you were; she would make you blush as much as if you never had been fine ladies. The vicar, madam, is so kind as to visit my husband, and his agreeable conversation has brought him to enjoy many sober, happy hours, when even I am shut out, and my dear master is entertained only with his own thoughts. These things, dear madam, will be lasting satisfactions, when the fine ladies, and the coxcombs, by whom they form themselves, are irreparably ridiculous, ridiculous in old age. I am, madam, your most humble servant,

'MARY HOME.'

It was necessary for the world, that arts should be invented and improved, books written and transmitted to posterity, nations conquered and civilized. Now since the proper and genuine motives to these, and the like great actions, would only influence virtuous minds: there would be but small improvements in the world, were there not some common principle of action working equally with all men. And such a principle is ambition, or a desire of fame, by which great endowments are not suffered to lie idle and useless to the public, and many vicious men are over-reached as it were, and engaged, contrary to their natural inclinations, in a glorious and laudable course of action. For we may farther observe, that men of the greatest abilities are most fired with ambition; and that on the contrary, mean and narrow minds are the least actuated by it: whether it be that a man's sense of his own incapacities makes him despair of coming at fame, or that he has not enough range of thought to look out for any good which does not more immediately relate to his interest or convenience; or that Providence, in the very frame of his soul, would not subject him to such a passion as would be useless to the world, and a torment to himself.

'DEAR MR. SPECTATOR,-You have no goodness in the world, and are not in earnest in any thing you say that is serious, if you do not send me a plain answer to this. I happened some days past to be at the play, where during the time of performance, I could not keep my eyes off from a beautiful young creature who sat just before me, and who I have been since informed, has no fortune. It would utterly ruin my reputation for discretion to marry such a one, and by what I can learn she has Were not this desire of fame very strong; a character of great modesty, so that there the difficulty of obtaining it, and the danis nothing to be thought on any other way.ger of losing it when obtained, would be My mind has ever since been so wholly sufficient to deter a man from so vain a bent on her, that I am much in danger of pursuit. doing something very extravagant without your speedy advice to, sir, your most humble servant.'

How few are there who are furnished with abilities sufficient to recommend their actions to the admiration of the world, and

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