The widow Fidget being cited into court, insisted that she had done no more since the death of her husband than what she used to do in his life time; and withal desired Mr. Steward to consider his own wife's case if he should chance to die before her. and slippery tenure in England, I shall tell | But it was remembered that she made the you, since the writing of that letter, I have, same excuse the year before. Upon which according to my promise, been at great the steward observed, that she might so pains in searching out the records of the contrive it, as never to do the service of black ram; and have at last met with the the manor. proceedings of the court-baron, held in that behalf, for the space of a whole day. The record saith, that a strict inquisition having been made into the right of the tenants to their several estates, by the crafty old steward, he found that many of the lands of the manor were, by default of the several widows, forfeited to the lord, and accordingly would have entered on the premises: upon which the good women demanded the "benefit of the ram." The steward, after having perused their several pleas. adjourned the court to Barnaby-bright, that they might have day enough before them. The court being set, and filled with a great concourse of people, who came from all parts to see the solemnity; the first who entered was the widow Frontly, who had made her appearance in the last year's cavalcade. The register observes, that finding it an easy pad-ram, and foreseeing she might have farther occasion for it, she purchased it of the steward. 'Mrs. Sarah Dainty, relict of Mr. John Dainty, who was the greatest prude of the parish, came next in the procession. She at first made some difficulty of taking the tail in her hand; and was observed, in pronouncing the form of penance, to soften the two most emphatical words into clincum clancum: but the steward took care to make her speak plain English before he would let her have her land again. The third widow that was brought to this worldly shame, being mounted upon a vicious ram, had the misfortune to be thrown by him: upon which she hoped to The next in order was a dowager of a very corpulent make, who would have been excused, as not finding any ram that was able to carry her: upon which the steward commuted her punishment, and ordered her to make her entry upon a black ox. 'The widow Maskwell, a woman who had long lived with a most unblemished character, having turned off her old chamber-maid in a pet, was by that revengeful creature brought in upon the black ram nine times the same day. Several widows of the neighbourhood, being brought upon their trial, showed that they did not hold of the manor, and were discharged accordingly. A pretty young creature, who closed the procession, came ambling in with so bewitching an air, that the steward was observed to cast a sheep's eye upon her, and married her within a month after the death of his wife. 'N. B. Mrs. Touchwood appeared according to summons, but had nothing laid to her charge; having lived irreproachably since the decease of her husband, who left her a widow in the sixty-ninth year of her age. I am, sir, &c.' be excused from going through the rest of No. 624.] Wednesday, November 24, 1714. the ceremony; but the steward, being well versed in the law, observed very wisely upon this occasion, that breaking of the rope does not hinder the execution of the criminal. The fourth lady upon record was the widow Ogle, a famous coquette, who had kept half a score of young fellows off and on for the space of two years; but having been more kind to her carter John, she was introduced with the huzzas of all her lovers about her. Mrs. Sable appearing in her weeds, which were very new and fresh, and of the same colour with her whimsical palfrey, made a very decent figure in the solemnity. 'Another, who had been summoned to make her appearance, was excused by the steward, as well knowing in his heart that the good squire himself had qualified her for the ram. 'Mrs. Quick, having nothing to object against the indictment, pleaded her belly. Then the eleventh, now the twenty second of June, ing the longest day in the year. Audire, atque togam jubeo componere, quisquis Hor. Sat. iii. Lib. 2. 77. MANKIND is divided into two parts, the busy and the idle. The busy world may be divided into the virtuous and the vicious. The vicious again into the covetous, the ambitious, and the sensual. The idle part of mankind are in a state inferior to any one of these. All the other are engaged in the pursuit of happiness, though often misplaced, and are therefore more likely to be attentive to such means as shall be proposed to them for that end. The idle, who are neither wise for this world nor the next, are emphatically called by Dr. Tillotson, fools at large. They propose to themselves no end, but run adrift with every wind. Advice, therefore, would be but thrown away upon them, since they would scarce take the pains to read it. I shall not fatigue any of this worthless tribe with a long harangue; but will leave them with this short saying of Plato, that labour is preferable to idleness, as brightness to rust.? The pursuits of the active part of mankind are either in the paths of religion and virtue; or, on the other hand, in the roads to wealth, honours, or pleasure. I shall, therefore, compare the pursuits of avarice, ambition, and sensual delight with their opposite virtues; and shall consider which of these principles engages men in a course of the greatest labour, suffering, and assiduity. Most men, in their cool reasonings, are willing to allow that a course of virtue will in the end be rewarded the most amply; but represent the way to it as rugged and narrow. If, therefore, it can be made appear, that men struggle through as many troubles to be miserable, as they do to be happy, my readers may, perhaps, be persuaded to be good, when they find they shall lose nothing by it. which are heavier in the balance. It may seem strange, at the first view, that the men of pleasure should be advised to change their course, because they lead a painful life. Yet when we see them so active and vigilant in quest of delight; under so many disquiets, and the sport of such various passions; let them answer, as they can, if the pains they undergo do not outweigh their enjoyments. The infidelities on the one part between the two sexes, and the caprices on the other, the debasement of reason, the pangs of expectation, the disappointments in possession, the stings of remorse, the vanities and vexations attending even the most refined delights that make up this business of life, render it so silly and uncomfortable, that no man is thought wise until he hath got over it, or happy, but in proportion as he hath cleared himself from it. with many difficulties to prove his patience and excite his industry. The same, if not greater labour, is required in the service of vice and folly as of virtue and wisdom: and he hath this easy choice left him-whether, with the strength he is master of, he will purchase happiness or repentance. The sum of all is this. Man is made an First, for avarice. The miser is more active being. Whether he walks in the industrious than the saint: the pains of get-paths of virtue or vice, he is sure to meet ting, the fears of losing, and the inability of enjoying his wealth, have been the mark of satire in all ages. Were his repentance upon his neglect of a good bargain, his sorrow for being over-reached, his hope of improving a sum, and his fear of falling into want, directed to their proper objects, they would make so many different Christian graces and virtue. He may apply to himself a great part of saint Paul's catalogue of sufferings. In journeying often: in perils of waters, in perils of robbers, in perils among false brethren. In weariness and painfulness, in watchings often, in hunger and thirst, in fastings often. ---At how much less expense might he lay up to himself treasures in heaven!' Or, if I may in this place be allowed to add the saying of a great philosopher, he may provide such possessions as fear neither arms, nor men, nor Jove himself.' In the second place, if we look upon the toils of ambition in the same light as we have considered those of avarice, we shall readily own that far less trouble is requisite to gain lasting glory, than the power and reputation of a few years; or, in other words, we may with more ease deserve honour than obtain it. The ambitious man should remember cardinal Wolsey's complaint, Had I served God with the same application wherewith I served my king, he would not have forsaken me in my old age. The cardinal here softens his ambition by the specious pretence of serving his king;' whereas his words, in the proper construction, imply, that, if instead of being acted by ambition, he had been acted by religion, he should now have felt the comforts of it, when the whole world turned its back upon him. Thirdly, let us compare the pains of the sensual with those of the virtuous, and see * Actuated. No. 625.] Friday, November 26, 1714. amores De tenero meditatur ungui. Hor. Od. vi. Lib. 3. 23. Love, from her tender years, her thoughts employ'd. THE love casuist hath referred to me the following letter of queries with his answer to each question, for my approbation. I have accordingly considered the several matters therein contained, and hereby confirm and ratify his answers, and require the gentle querist to conform herself thereunto. 'SIR,---I was thirteen the 9th of November last, and must now begin to think of settling myself in the world; and so I would humbly beg your advice, what I must do with Mr. Fondle, who makes his addresses to me. He is a very pretty man, and hath the blackest eyes and whitest teeth you ever saw. Though he is but a younger brother, he dresses like a man of quality, and nobody comes into a room like him. I know he hath refused great offers, and if he cannot marry me, he will never have any body else. But my father hath forbid him the house, because he sent me a copy of verses; for he is one of the greatest wits in town. My eldest sister, who, with her good will, would call me miss as long as I live, must be married before me, they say. She tells them that Mr. Fondle makes a fool of me, and will spoil the child, as she calls me, like a confident thing as she is. In short, I am resolved to marry Mr. Fondle, if it be but to spite her. But because I would do nothing that is imprudent, I beg of you 'Should not I be a very barbarous creature, if I did not pity a man who is always sighing for my sake? No. Whether you would not advise me to run away with the poor man?' No. Whether you do not think, that if I will not have him, he will drown himself?' No. 'What shall I say to him the next time he asks me if I will marry him?' No. The following letter requires neither introduction nor answer. been an hour in the air. I love, if I may No. 626.] Monday, November 29, 1714. Ovid, Met. Lib. 4. 284. With sweet novelty your taste I'll please.-Eusden. man, consisting of extemporary speculaI HAVE seen a little work of a learned tions, which owed their birth to the most thod, was to write down any sudden start trifling occurrences of life. His usual meof thought which arose in his mind upon the sight of any odd gesticulation in a man, any whimsical mimickry of reason in a beast, or whatever appeared remarkable in any object of the visible creation. He was able to moralize upon a snuff-box, would flourish eloquently upon a tucker or a pair of ruffles, and draw practical inferences from a full-bottomed perriwig. This I thought fit to mention, by way of excuse, for my ingenious correspondent, who hath introduced the following letter by an image which, I will beg leave to tell him, is too ridiculous in so serious and noble a speculation. 'MR. SPECTATOR,-I wonder that, in the present situation of affairs, you can take pleasure in writing any thing but news; for, in a word, who minds any thing else? The pleasure of increasing in knowledge, and 'MR. SPECTATOR,-When I have seen learning something new every hour of life, young puss playing her wanton gambols, is the noblest entertainment of a rational and with a thousand antic shapes express creature. I have a very good ear for a se- her own gayety at the same time that she cret, and am naturally of a communicative moved mine, while the old grannum hath temper; by which means I am capable of sat by with the most exemplary gravity, doing you great services in this way. In or- unmoved at all that passed; it hath made der to make myself useful, I am early in me reflect what should be the occasion of the anti-chamber, where I thrust my head humours so opposite in two creatures, beinto the thick of the press, and catch the tween whom there was no visible difference news at the opening of the door, while it is but that of age; and I have been able to rewarm. Sometimes I stand by the beef-solve it into nothing else but the force of noeaters, and take the buz as it passes by me. At other times I lay my ear close to the In every species of creatures, those who wall, and suck in many a valuable whisper, have been least time in the world appear as it runs in a straight line from corner to best pleased with their condition; for, becorner. When I am weary with standing, sides that to a new comer the world hath I repair to one of the neighbouring coffee-a freshness on it that strikes the sense after houses, where I sit sometimes for a whole a most agreeable manner, being itself unatday, and have the news as it comes from tended with any great variety of enjoycourt fresh and fresh. In short, sir, I spare no pains to know how the world goes. A piece of news loses its flavour when it hath velty. ments, excites a sensation of pleasure: but, as age advances, every thing seems to wither, the senses are disgusted with their old en tertainments, and existence turns flat and insipid. We may see this exemplified in mankind. The child, let him be free from pain, and gratified in his change of toys, is diverted with the smallest trifle. Nothing disturbs the mirth of the boy but a little punishment or confinement. The youth must have more violent pleasures to employ his time. The man loves the hurry of an active life, devoted to the pursuits of wealth or ambition. And, lastly, old age, having lost its capacity for these avocations, becomes its own unsupportable burden. This variety may in part be accounted for by the vivacity and decay of the faculties; but I believe is chiefly owing to this, that the longer we have been in possession of being, the less sensible is the gust we have of it; and the more it requires of adventitious amusements to relieve us from the satiety and weariness it brings along with it. And as novelty is of a very powerful, so it is of a most extensive influence. Moralists have long since observed it to be the source of admiration, which lessens in proportion to our familiarity with objects, and upon a thorough acquaintance is utterly extinguished. But I think it hath not been so commonly remarked, that all the other passions depend considerably on the same circumstance. What is it but novelty that awakens desire, enhances delight, kindles anger, provokes envy, inspires horror? To this cause we must ascribe it, that love languishes with fruition, and friendship itself is recommended by intervals of absence: hence, monsters, by use, are beheld without loathing, and the most enchanting beauty without rapture. That emotion of the spirits, in which passion consists, is usually the effect of surprise, and, as long as it continues, heightens the agreeable or disagreeable qualities of its object; but as this emotion ceases, (and it ceases with the novelty) things appear in another light, and affect us even less than might be expected from their proper energy, for having moved us too much before. 'It may not be a useless inquiry, how far the love of novelty is the unavoidable growth of nature, and in what respects it is peculiarly adapted to the present state. To me it seems impossible, that a reasonable creature should rest absolutely satisfied in any acquisitions whatever, without endeavouring farther; for, after its highest improvements, the mind hath an idea of an infinity of things still behind, worth knowing, to the knowledge of which therefore it cannot be indifferent; as by climbing up a hill in the midst of a wide plain, a man hath his prospect enlarged, and together with that, the bounds of his desires. Upon this account, I cannot think he detracts from the state of the blessed, who conceives them to be perpetually employed in fresh searches into nature, and to eternity advancing into the fathomless depths of the divine perfections. In this thought there is nothing but what doth honour to these glorified spirits; provided still it be remembered, that their desire of more proceeds not from their disrelishing what they possess; and the pleasure of a new enjoyment is not with them measured by its novelty, (which is a thing merely foreign and accidental) but by its real intrinsic value. After an acquaintance of many thousand years with the works of God, the beauty and magnificence of the creation fills them with the same pleasing wonder and profound awe, which Adam felt himself seized with as he first opened his eyes upon this glorious scene. Truth captivates with unborrowed charms, and whatever hath once given satisfaction will always do it. In all which they have manifestly the advantage of us, who are so much governed by sickly and changeable appetites, that we can with the greatest coldness behold the stupendous displays of Omnipotence, and be in transports at the puny essays of human skill; throw aside speculations of the sublimest nature and vastest importance into some obscure corner of the mind, to make room for new notions of no consequence at all; are even tired of health, because not enlivened with alternate pain; and prefer the first reading of an indifferent author to the second or third perusal of one whose merit and reputation are established. "Our being thus formed serves many useful purposes in the present state. It contributes not a little to the advancement of learning; for, as Cicero takes notice, that which makes men willing to undergo the fatigues of philosophical disquisitions, is not so much the greatness of objects as their novelty. It is not enough that there is field and game for the chase, and that the understanding is prompted with a restless thirst of knowledge, effectually to rouse the soul, sunk into a state of sloth and indolence; it is also necessary that there be an uncommon pleasure annexed to the first appearance of truth in the mind. This pleasure being exquisite for the time it lasts, but transient, it hereby comes to pass that the mind grows into an indifference to its former notions, and passes on after new discoveries, in hope of repeating the delight. It is with knowledge as with wealth, the pleasure of which lies more in making endless additions than in taking a review of our old store. There are some inconveniences that follow this temper, if not guarded against, particularly this, that through too great an eagerness of something new, we are many times impatient of staying long enough upon a question that requires some time to resolve it; or, which is worse, persuade ourselves that we are masters of the subject before we are so, only to be at the_liberty of going upon a fresh scent: in Mr. Locke's words, "We see a little, presume a great deal, and so jump to the conclusion." A farther advantage of our inclination for novelty, as at present circumstantiated, is, that it annihilates all the boasted distin tions among mankind. Look not up with | by walking too late in a dewy evening envy to those above thee! Sounding titles, amongst his reapers. I must inform you stately buildings, fine gardens, gilded cha- that his greatest pleasure was in husbandry riots, rich equipages, what are they? They and gardening. He had some humours dazzle every one but the possessor: to him which seemed inconsistent with that good that is accustomed to them they are cheap sense he was otherwise master of. His unand regardless things; they supply him not easiness in the company of women was very with brighter images, or more sublime satis- remarkable in a man of such perfect goodfactions, than the plain man may have, breeding; and his avoiding one particular whose small estate will just enable him to walk in his garden, where he had used to support the charge of a simple unencum- pass the greatest part of his time, raised bered life. He enters heedless into his abundance of idle conjectures in the village rooms of state, as you or I do under our where he lived. Upon looking over his papoor sheds. The noble paintings and costly pers we found out the reason, which he furniture are lost on him; he sees them not; never intimated to his nearest friends. He as how can it be otherwise, when by cus- was, it seems, a passionate lover in his tom a fabric infinitely more grand and youth, of which a large parcel of letters he finished, that of the universe, stands unob- left behind him are a witness. I send you a served by the inhabitants, and the everlast- copy of the last he ever wrote upon that ing lamps of heaven are lighted up in vain, subject, by which you will find that he confor any notice that mortals take of them? cealed the true name of his mistress under Thanks to indulgent nature, which not only that of Zelinda. placed her children originally upon a level, but still, by the strength of this principle, in a great measure preserves it, in spite of all the care of man to introduce artificial distinctions. 'To add no more-is not this fondness for novelty, which makes us out of conceit with all we already have, a convincing proof of a future state? Either man was made in vain, or this is not the only world he was made for: for there cannot be a greater instance of vanity than that to which man is liable, to be deluded from the cradle to the grave with fleeting shadows of happiness. His pleasures, and those not considerable neither, die in the possession, and fresh enjoyments do not rise fast enough to fill up half his life with satisfaction. When I see persons sick of themselves any longer than they are called away by something that is of force to chain down the present thought; when I see them hurry from country to town, and then from the town back again into the country, continually shifting postures, and placing life in all the different lights they can think of; "Surely," say I to myself, "life is vain, and the man beyond expression stupid, or prejudiced, who from the vanity of life cannot gather that he is designed for immortality.' "A long month's absence would be insupportable to me, if the business I am employed in were not for the service of my Zelinda, and of such a nature as to place her every moment in my mind. I have furnished the house exactly according to your fancy, or, if you please, my own; for I have long since learned to like nothing but what you do. The apartment designed for your use is so exact a copy of that which you live in, that I often think myself in your house when I step into it, but sigh when I find it without its proper inhabitant. will have the most delicious prospect from your closet window that England affords: I am sure I should think it so, if the landscape that shows such variety did not at the same time suggest to me the greatness of the space that lies between us. You "The gardens are laid out very beautifully; I have dressed up every hedge in woodbines, sprinkled bowers and arbours in every corner, and made a little paradise around me: yet I am still like the first man in his solitude, but half blessed without a partner in my happiness. I have directed one walk to be made for two persons, where I promise ten thousand satisfactions to myself in your conversation. I already take my evening's turn in it, and have worn a path upon the edge of this little alley, while I soothed myself with the thought of your walking by my side. I have held many imaginary discourses with you in this retirement; and when I have been weary, have sat down with you in the midst of a row of jessamines. The many expressions of joy and rapture I use in these silent conversations have made me, for some time, the talk of the parish; but a neighbouring THE following account, which came to young fellow, who makes love to the farmy hands some time ago, may be no dis-mer's daughter, hath found me out, and agreeable entertainment to such of my made my case known to the whole neighreaders as have tender hearts, and nothing bourhood. No. 627.] Wednesday, December 1, 1714. He, underneath the beaten shade, alone, to do. "In planting of the fruit trees, I have not forgot the peach you are so fond of. I have made a walk of elms along the river |