gin, a tender wife, a generous friend, a kind mother, and an indulgent mistress. I'll strain hard but I will purchase for her a husband suitable to her merit. I am your convert in the admiration of what I thought you jested when you recommended; and if you please to be at my house on Thursday next, I make a ball for my daughter, and you shall see her dance, or, if you will do her that honour dance with her. I am, sir, your humble servant, 'PHILIPATER.' ---Quodcunque mer poterunt audere Camana, I have some time ago spoken of a treatise No. 467.] Tuesday, August 26, 1712. written by Mr. Weaver on this subject, which is now, I understand, ready to be published. This work sets this matter in a very plain and advantageous light; and I am convinced from it, that if the art was under proper regulations, it would be a mechanic way of implanting insensibly, in minds not capable of receiving it so well by any other rules, a sense of good-breeding and virtue. Tibull. ad Messalem, Eleg. iv. Lib. 1.4. THE love of praise is a passion deeply fixed in the mind of every extraordinary person; and those who are most affected with it, seem most to partake of that par ticle of the divinity which distinguishes mankind from the inferior creation. The Supreme Being himself is most pleased with praise and thanksgiving: the other part of our duty is but an acknowledgment of our faults, whilst this is the immediate adoration of his perfections. 'Twas an excel Were any one to see Mariamne* dance, let him be never so sensual a brute, I defy him to entertain any thoughts but of the highest respect and esteem towards her. I was showed last week a picture in a lady's closet, for which she had a hundred different dresses, that she could clap on round the face on purpose to demonstrate the force of habits in the diversity of the same countenance. Motion, and change of posture and aspect, has an effect no less sur-lent observation, that we then only despise prising on the person of Mariamne when she dances. Chloe is extremely pretty, and as silly as she is pretty. This idiot has a very good ear, and a most agreeable shape; but the folly of the thing is such, that it smiles so impertinently, and affects to please so sillily, that while she dances you see the simpleton from head to foot. For you must know (as trivial as this art is thought to be,) no one was ever a good dancer that had not a good understanding. If this be a truth, I shall leave the reader to judge, from that maxim, what esteem they ought to have for such impertinents as fly, hop, caper, tumble, twirl, turn round, and jump over their heads; and, in a word, play a thousand pranks which many animals can do better than a man, instead of performing to perfection what the human figure only is capable of performing. It may perhaps appear odd, that I, who set up for a mighty lover, at least of virtue, should take so much pains to recommend what the soberer part of mankind look upon to be a trifle; but, under favour of the soberer part of mankind, I think they have not enough considered this matter, and for that reason only disesteem it. I must also, in my own justification, say, that I attempt to bring into the service of honour and virtue every thing in nature that can pretend * Probably Mrs. Bicknell. commendation when we cease to deserve it; and we have still extant two orations of Tully and Pliny, spoken to the greatest and best princes of all the Roman emperors, who, no doubt, heard with the greatest satisfaction, what even the most disinterested persons, and at so large a distance of time, cannot read without admiration. Cæsar thought his life consisted in the breath of praise, when he professed he had lived long enough for himself, when he had for his glory. Others have sacrificed themselves for a name which was not to begin till they were dead, giving away themselves to purchase a sound which was not to com mence till they were out of hearing. But by merit and superior excellencies, not only to gain, but, whilst living, to enjoy a great and universal reputation, is the last degree of happiness which we can hope for here Bad characters are dispersed abroad with profusion; I hope for example's sake, and (as punishments are designed by the civil power) more for the deterring the innocent than the chastising the guilty. The good are less frequent, whether it be that there are indeed fewer originals of this kind to copy after, or that, through the malignity of our nature, we rather delight in the ridi cule than the virtues we find in others. However, it is but just, as well as pleasing, even for variety, sometimes to give the world a representation of the bright side of human nature, as well as the dark and = Swear, that none e'er had such a graceful art, gloomy. The desire of imitation may, perhaps, be a greater incentive to the practice of what is good, than the aversion we may conceive at what is blameable: the one immediately directs you what you shoulding the universal love and esteem of all men; do, whilst the other only shows what you should avoid; and I cannot at present do this with more satisfaction than by endeavouring to do some justice to the character of Manilius. nor steer with more success between the extremes of two contending parties. "Tis his peculiar happiness that, while he espouses neither with an intemperate zeal, he is not only admired, but, what is a more It would far exceed my present design, rare and unusual felicity, he is beloved and to give a particular description of Manilius caressed by both; and I never yet saw any through all the parts of his excellent life. person, of whatever age or sex, but was I shall now only draw him in his retire-immediately struck with the merit of Mament, and pass over in silence the various nilius. There are many who are acceptaarts, the courtly manners, and the unde-ble to some particular persons, whilst the signing honesty by which he attained the honours he has enjoyed, and which now give a dignity and veneration to the ease he does enjoy. 'Tis here that he looks back with pleasure on the waves and billows through which he has steered to so fair a haven: he is now intent upon the practice of every virtue, which a great knowledge and use of mankind has discovered to be the most useful to them. Thus in his private domestic employments he is no less glorious than in his public; for it is in reality a more difficult task to be conspicuous in a sedentary inactive life, than in one that is spent in hurry and business: persons engaged in the latter, like bodies violently agitated, from the swiftness of their motion, have a brightness added to them, which often vanishes when they are at rest; but if it then still remain, it must be the seeds of intrinsic worth that thus shine out without any foreign aid or assistance. rest of mankind look upon them with coldness and indifference; but he is the first whose entire good fortune it is ever to please and to be pleased, wherever he comes to be admired, and wherever he is absent to be lamented. His merit fares like the pictures of Raphael, which are either seen with admiration by all, or at least no one dare own he has no taste for a composition which has received so universal an applause. Envy and malice find it against their interest to indulge slander and obloquy. 'Tis as hard for an enemy to detract from, as for a friend to add to, his praise. An attempt upon his reputation is a sure lessening of one's own; and there is but one way to injure him, which is to refuse him his just commendations, and be obstinately silent. It is below him to catch the sight with any care of dress; his outward garb is but the emblem of his mind. It is genteel, plain and unaffected; he knows that gold and embroidery can add nothing to the opinion which all have of his merit, and that he gives a lustre to the plainest dress, whilst 'tis impossible the richest should communicate any to him. He is still the principal figure in the room. He first engages your eye, as if there were some point of light which shone stronger upon him than on any other person. His liberality in another might almost bear the name of profusion: he seems to think it laudable even in the excess, like that river which most enriches when it overflows. But Manilius has too perfect a taste of the pleasure of doing good, ever to let it be out of his power; and for that reason he will have a just economy and a splendid frugality at home, the fountain from whence those streams should flow which he disperses abroad. He looks with disdain on those who propose their death as the time when they are to begin their munificence: he will both see and enjoy (which he then does in the highest degree,) what he bestows himself; he will be the living executor of his own bounty, whilst they who have the happiness to be within his care and patronage, at once pray for the continuation of his life and their own good fortune. No one is out of the reach of his obligations; he knows how, by proper and becoming methods, to raise himself to a level with those of the highest rank; and Like Aristippus, whatever shape or conhis good-nature is a sufficient warrant dition he appears in, it still sits free and against the want of those who are so un-easy upon him; but in some part of his happy as to be in the very lowest. One character, 'tis true, he differs from him; may say of him, as Pindar bids his muse for as he is altogether equal to the largesay of Theron, He puts me in mind of a story of the famous Bussy d'Amboise, who, at an assembly at court, where every one appeared with the utmost magnificence, relying upon his own superior behaviour, instead of adorning himself like the rest, put on that day a plain suit of clothes, and dressed all his servants in the most costly gay habits he could procure. The event was, that the eyes of the whole court were fixed upon him; all the rest looked like his attendants, while he alone had the air of a person of quality and distinction. ness of his present circumstances, the rectitude of his judgment has so far corrected the inclinations of his ambition, that he will not trouble himself with either the desires | though all I can give him, to pass a moment or pursuits of any thing beyond his present enjoyments. or two in sadness for the loss of so agreeable a man. Poor Eastcourt! the last time I saw A thousand obliging things flow from him him, we were plotting to show the town his upon every occasion; and they are always great capacity for acting in its full light, so just and natural, that it is impossible by introducing him as dictating to a set to think he was at the least pains to look of young players, in what manner to speak for them. One would think it was the this sentence and utter t'other passion. He dæmon of good thoughts that discovered to had so exquisite a discerning of what was him those treasures, which he must have defective in any object before him, that in blinded others from seeing, they lay so di- an instant he could show you the ridiculous rectly in their way. Nothing can equal side of what would pass for beautiful and the pleasure that is taken in hearing him just, even to men of no ill judgment, before speak, but the satisfaction one receives in he had pointed at the failure. He was no the civility and attention he pays to the less skilful in the knowledge of beauty; discourse of others. His looks are a silent and I dare say, there is no one who knew commendation of what is good and praise-him well, but can repeat more well-turned worthy, and a secret reproof of what is compliments, as well as smart repartees of licentious and extravagant. He knows how Mr. Eastcourt's, than of any other man in to appear free and open without danger of England. This was easily to be observed intrusion, and to be cautious without seem-in his inimitable faculty of telling a story, ing reserved. The gravity of his conver- in which he would throw in natural and sation is always enlivened with his wit and unexpected incidents to make his court to humour, and the gayety of it is tempered one part, and rally the other part of the with something that is instructive, as well company. Then he would vary the usage as barely agreeable. Thus, with him you he gave them, according as he saw them are sure not to be merry at the expense of bear kind or sharp language. He had the your reason, nor serious with the loss of knack to raise up a pensive temper, and your good-humour; but by a happy mixture mortify an impertinently gay one, with the of his temper, they either go together, or most agreeable skill imaginable. There perpetually succeed each other. In fine, are a thousand things which crowd into his whole behaviour is equally distant from my memory, which make me too much constraint and negligence, and he commands concerned to tell on about him. Hamlet, your respect while he gains your heart. holding up the skull which the grave-digThere is in his whole carriage such anger threw at him, with an account that it engaging softness, that one cannot persuade one's self he is ever actuated by those rougher passions, which, wherever they find place, seldom fail of showing themselves in the outward demeanour of the persons they belong to; but his constitution is a just temperature between indolence on one hand, and violence on the other. He is mild and gentle, wherever his affairs will give him leave to follow his own inclinations; but yet never failing to exert himself with vigour and resolution in the service of his prince, his country, or his friend. was the head of the king's jester, falls into very pleasing reflection, and cries out to his companion, 'Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio: a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy; he hath borne me on his back a thousand times: and now how abhorred in my imagination it is! my gorge rises at it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft. Where be your gibes now, your gambols, your songs, your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table on a roar? Not one now to mock your own grinning? quite chap-fallen? Now get you to my lady's chamber, and tell her, let her paint an inch thick, to this favour she must come. Make her laugh at that.' It is an insolence natural to the wealthy, to affix, as much as in them lies, the character of a man to his circumstances. Thus it is ordinary with them to praise faintly the good qualities of those below them, and say it is very extraordinary in such a man as he is, or the like, when they are forced to acknowledge the value of him whose lowness upbraids their exaltation. It is to this humour only, that it is to be ascribed, that a quick wit in conversation, a nice judgment upon any emergency that could arise, and a most blameless inoffensive behaviour, could not raise this man above being received only upon the foot of contributing to mirth and diversion. he was as easy under that condition, as a But man of so excellent talents was capable; and since they would have it, that to divert was his business, he did it with all the seeming alacrity imaginable, though it stung him to the heart that it was his business. Men of sense, who could taste his excellencies, were well satisfied to let him lead the way in conversation, and play after his own manner; but fools, who provoked him to mimickry, found he had the indignation to let it be at their expense who called for it, and he would show the form of conceited heavy fellows as jests to the company at their own request, in revenge for interrupting him from being a companion to put on the character of a jester. It is natural for the generality of man kind to run into reflections upon our mortality, when disturbers of the world are laid at rest, but to take no notice when they who can please and divert are pulled from us. But for my part, I cannot but think the loss of such talents as the man of whom I am speaking was master of, a more melancholy instance of mortality than the dissolution of persons of never so high characters in the world, whose pretensions were that they were noisy and mischievous, But I must grow more succinct, and as a Spectator, give an account of this extraor dinary man, who, in his way, never had an equal in any age before him, or in that wherein he lived. I speak of him as a companion, and a man qualified for conversation. His fortune exposed him to an obsequiousness towards the worst sort of company, but his excellent qualities ren dered him capable of making the best figure in the most refined. I have been present with him among men of the most delicate taste a whole night, and have known him (for he saw it was desired) keep the discourse to himself the most part of it, and maintain his good-humour with a countenance, in a language so delightful, without offence to any person or thing upon earth, still preserving the distance his circumstances obliged him to; I say, I have seen him_do_all this in such a charming manner, that I am sure none of those I hint at will read this without giving him some sorrow for their abundant mirth, and one gush of tears for so many bursts of laughter. I wish it were any honour to the pleasant creature's memory, that my eyes are too much suffused to let me go on-T. What was peculiarly excellent in this memorable companion, was, that in the accounts he gave of persons and sentiments, he did not only hit the figure of their faces, and manner of their gestures, but he would in his narration fall into their very way of thinking, and this, when he recounted passages wherein men of the best wits were concerned, as well as such wherein were represented men of the lowest rank of understanding. It is certainly as great an instance of self-love to a weakness, to be impatient of being mimicked, as any *can be imagined. There were none but the vain, the formal, the proud, or those who were incapable of amending their faults, g: that dreaded him; to others he was in the highest degree pleasing: and I do not know any satisfaction of any indifferent kind I c tasted so much, as having got over an Impatience of my seeing myself in the air he could put me in when I have displeased him. It is indeed to his exquisite talent this way, more than any philosophy I could read on the subject, that my person is very The following severe passage in this number of little of my care, and it is indifferent to me the Spectator in folio, apparently levellt at Dr. Radwhat is said of my shape, my air, my man-cliffe, was suppressed in all the subarquer editions: ner, my speech, or my address. It is to poor Eastcourt I chiefly owe that I am arrived at the happiness of thinking nothing a diminution to me, but what argues a depravity of my will. It is a felicity his friends may rejoice in, that he had his senses, and used them as he ought to do, in his last moments. It is remarkable that his judgment was in its calm perfection to the utmost article; for when his wife out of her fondness, desired she might send for a certain illiterate humourist (whom he had accompa nied in a thousand mirthful moments, and whose insolence makes fools think he assumes from conscious merit,) he answered, "Do what you please, but he about this message convince the unwary of a triumphwon't come near me." Let poor Eastcourt's negligence ant empiric's ignorance and inhumanity.' It has as much surprised me as any thing in nature, to have it frequently said, that he was not a good player; but that must be owing to a partiality for former actors in the parts in which he succeeded them, and judging by comparison of what was liked before, rather than by the nature of the No. 469.] Thursday, August 8, 1712. thing. When a man of his wit and smartness could put on an utter absence of common sense in his face, as he did in the character of Bullfinch, in the Northern Lass, and an air of insipid cunning and vivacity in the character of Pounce in The Tender Husband, it is folly to dispute his capacity and success, as he was an actor. Poor Eastcourt! let the vain and proud be at rest, thou wilt no more disturb their admiration of their dear selves; and thou art no longer to drudge in raising the mirth of stupids, who know nothing of thy merit, for thy maintenance. VOL. II. 28 Detrahere aliquid alteri, et hominem hominis incommodo suum augere commodum, magis est contra naturam, quam mors, quam paupertas, quam dolor, quam cætera que possunt aut corpori accidere, aut rebus ex ternis. Tull. To detract any thing from another, and for one man to multiply his own conveniencies by the inconve niencies of another, is more against nature than death, than poverty, than pain, and the other things which can befall the body or external circumstances. I AM persuaded there are few men, of generous principles, who would seek after great places were it not rather to have an opportunity in their hands of obliging their particular friends, or those whom they look upon as men of worth, than to procure wealth and honour for themselves. To an honest mind, the best perquisites of a place are the advantages it gives a man of doing good. But in the last place, there is no man s improper to be employed in business, as he who is in any degree capable of corruption and such a one is the man who, upon any pretence whatsoever, receives more than what is the stated and unquestioned fee of his office. Gratifications, tokens of thankfulness, despatch money, and the like specious terms, are the pretences under which corruption very frequently shelters itself. An honest man will however look on all these methods as unjustifiable, and will enjoy himself better in a moderate fortune, that is gained with honour and reputation, than in an overgrown estate that is cankertion. Were all our offices discharged with such an inflexible integrity, we should not see men in all ages, who grow up to exorbitant wealth, with the abilities which are to be met with in an ordinary mechanic. I cannot but think that such a corruption proceeds chiefly from men's employing the first that offer themselves, or those who have the character of shrewd worldly men, instead of searching out such as have had a liberal education, and have been trained up in the studies of knowledge and virtue. Those who are under the great officers of state, and are the instruments by which they act, have more frequent opportunities for the exercise of compassion and benevolence, than their superiors themselves. These men know every little case that is to come before the great man, and, if they are possessed with honest minds, will consider poverty as a recommendation in the person who applies himself to them, and make the justice of his cause the most powerful soli-ed with the acquisitions of rapine and exaccitor in his behalf. A man of this temper, when he is in a post of business, becomes a blessing to the public. He patronises the orphan and the widow, assists the friendless, and guides the ignorant. He does not reject the person's pretensions, who does not know how to explain them, or refuse doing a good office for a man because he cannot pay the fee of it. In short, though he regulates himself in all his proceedings by justice and equity, he finds a thousand occasions for all the good-natured offices of generosity and compassion. A man is unfit for such a place of trust, who is of a sour untractable nature, or has any other passion that makes him uneasy to those who approach him. Roughness of temper is apt to discountenance the timorous or modest. The proud man discourages those from approaching him, who are of a mean condition, and who most want his assistance. The impatient man will not give himself time to be informed of the matter that lies before him. An officer, with one or more of these unbecoming qualities, is sometimes looked upon as a proper person to keep off impertinence and solicitation from his superior; but this is a kind of merit that can never atone for the injustice which may very often arise from it. There are two other vicious qualities, which render a man very unfit for such a place of trust. The first of these is a dilatory temper, which commits innumerable cruelties without design. The maxim which several have laid down for a man's conduct in ordinary life, should be inviolable with a man in office, never to think of doing that to-morrow which may be done to-day. A man who defers doing what ought to be done, is guilty of injustice so long as he defers it. The despatch of a good office is very often as beneficial to the solicitor as the good office itself. In short, if a man compared the inconveniencies which another suffers by his delays, with the trifling motives and advantages which he himself may reap by them, he would never be guilty of a fault which very often does an irreparable prejudice to the person who depends upon him, and which might be remedied with little trouble to himself. It has been observed, that men of learning who take to business, discharge it generally with greater honesty than men of the world. The chief reason for it I take to be as follows. A man that has spent his youth in reading, has been used to find virtue extolled, and vice stigmatized. A man that has passed his time in the world, has often seen vice triumphant, and virtue discountenanced. Extortion, rapine, and injustice, which are branded with infamy in books, often give a man a figure in the world; while several qualities, which are celebrated in authors, as generosity, ingenuity, and good-nature, impoverish and ruin him. This cannot but have a proportionable effect on men whose tempers and principles are equally good and vicious. There would be at least this advantage in employing men of learning and parts in business; that their prosperity would sit more gracefully on them, and that we should not see many worthless persons shot up into the greatest figures of life. No. 470.] Friday, August 29, 1712. Turpe est difficiles habere nugas, 0. Mart. Epig. Ixxxvi. Lib. 2. 9. 'Tis folly only, and defect of sense, Turns trifles into things of consequence. I HAVE been very often disappointed of late years, when, upon examining the new edition of a classic author, I have found above half the volume taken up with vari ous readings. When I have expected to meet with a learned note upon a doubtfu passage in a Latin poet, I have only beer informed. that such or such ancient manu scripts or sn et write an ac, or of some |