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napes, who would needs try his new gun

upon me.

in his way, and withal so very merry during the whole entertainment, that he insensiBut I shall pass over these and several bly betrayed me to continue his competitor, other stages of life, to remind you of the which in a little time concluded in a comyoung beau who made love to you about six plete victory over my rival; after which, years since. You may remember, madam, by way of insult, I ate a considerable prohow he masked, and danced, and sung, portion beyond what the spectators thought and played a thousand tricks to gain you; me obliged in honour to do. The effect, and how he was at last carried off by a cold however, of this engagement, has made me that he got under your window one night in resolve never to eat more for renown; and a serenade. I was that unfortunate young I have, pursuant to this resolution, comfellow to whom you were then so cruel. pounded three wagers I had depending on Not long after my shifting that unlucky the strength of my stomach, which hapbody, I found myself upon a hill in Ethio-pened very luckily, because it had been pia, where I lived in my present grotesque stipulated in our articles either to play or shape, till I was caught by a servant of the pay. How a man of common sense could English factory, and sent over into Great be thus engaged is hard to determine; but Britain. I need not inform you how I came the occasion of this is, to desire you to ininto your hands. You see, madam, this is form several gluttons of my acquaintance, not the first time that you have had me in who look on me with envy, that they had a chain: I am, however, very happy in this best moderate their ambition in time, lest my captivity, as you often bestow on me infamy or death attend their success. I those kisses and caresses which I would forgot to tell you, sir, with what unspeakhave given the world for when I was a man. able pleasure I received the acclamations I hope this discovery of my person will not and applause of the whole board, when I tend to my disadvantage, but that you will had almost eat my antagonist into convulstill continue your accustomed favours to sions. It was then that I returned his mirth your most devoted humble servant, upon him with such success, as he was hardly able to swallow, though prompted by a desire of fame, and a passionate fond'P. S. I would advise your little shock-ness for distinction. I had not endeavoured dog to keep out of my way; for as I look upon him to be the most formidable of my rivals, I may chance one time or other to give him such a snap as he won't like.'

'PUGG.'

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to excel so far, had not the company been so loud in their approbation of my victory. I don't question but the same thirst after glory has often caused a man to drink quarts without taking breath, and prompted men to many other as difficult enterprises: which, if otherwise pursued, might turn very much to a man's advantage. This ambition of mine was indeed extravagantly pursued; however, I cannot help observing, that you hardly ever see a man commended for a good stomach, but he immediately falls to eating more, (though he had before dined,) as well to confirm the person that commended him in his good opinion of him, as to convince any other at the table, who may have been unattentive enough not to have done justice to his character. I am, sir, your humble servant,

'EPICURE MAMMON.'

MR. SPECTATOR,-I think it has not yet fallen into your way to discourse on little ambition, or the many whimsical ways men fall into to distinguish themselves among their acquaintance. Such observations, well pursued, would make a pretty history of low life. I myself am got into a great reputation, which arose (as most extraordinary occurrences in a man's life seem 'MR. SPECTATOR,-I have wrote to you to do,) from a mere accident. I was some three or four times, to desire you would days ago unfortunately engaged among a take notice of an impertinent custom the set of gentlemen, who esteem a man accord women, the fine women, have lately fallen ing to the quantity of food he throws down into, of taking snuff. This silly trick is atat a meal. Now I, who am ever for dis-tended with such a coquette air in some tinguishing myself according to the notions of superiority which the rest of the company entertain, ate so immoderately, for their applause, as had like to have cost me my life. What added to my misfortune was, that having naturally a good stomach, and having lived soberly for some time, my body was as well prepared for this contention as if it had been by appointment. I had quickly vanquished every glutton in company but one who was such a prodigy VOL. II. 7

ladies, and such a sedate masculine one in others, that I cannot tell which most to complain of: but they are to me equally disagreeable. Mrs. Santer is so impatient of being without it, that she takes it as often as she does salt at meals: and as she affects a wonderful ease and negligence in all her manner, an upper lip mixed with snuff and the sauce, is what is presented to the observation of all who have the honour to eat with her. The pretty creature, her

niece, does all she can to be as disagreeable | book, which is filled with Adam's account as her aunt; and if she is not as offensive to of his passion and esteem for Eve, would the eye, she is quite as much to the ear, have been improper for her hearing, and and makes up all she wants in a confident has therefore devised very just and beautiair, by a nauseous rattle of the nose, when ful reasons for her retiring: the snuff is delivered, and the fingers make the stops and closes on the nostrils. This, perhaps, is not a very courtly image in speaking of ladies; that is very true: but where arises the offence? Is it in those who commit, or those who observe it? As for my part, I have been so extremely disgusted with this filthy physic hanging on the lip, that the most agreeable conversation, or person, has not been able to make up for it.

As to those who take it for no other end but to give themselves occasion for pretty action, or to fill up little intervals of discourse, I can bear with them; but then they must not use it when another is speaking, who ought to be heard with too much respect, to admit of offering at that time from hand to hand the snuff-box. But Flavilla is so far taken with her behaviour in this kind, that she pulls out her box (which is indeed full of good Brazil,) in the middle of the sermon; and, to show she has the audacity of a well-bred woman, she offers it to the men as well as to the women who sit near her: but since by this time all the world knows she has a fine hand, I am in hopes she may give herself no further trouble in this matter. On Sunday was sevennight, when they came about for the offering, she gave her charity with a very good air, but at the same time asked the church-warden if he would take a pinch. Pray, sir, think of these things in time, and you will oblige, your humble servant. T.

No. 345.] Saturday, April 5, 1712.

Sanctius his animal, mentisque capacius altæ
Deerat adhuc, et quod dominari in cætera posset,
Natus homo est.-
Ovid. Met. Lib. i. 76.

A creature of a more exalted kind
Was wanting yet, and then was man design'd:
Conscious of thought, of more capacious breast,
For empire form'd, and fit to rule the rest.-Dryden.
THE accounts which Raphael gives of
the battle of angels, and the creation of the
world, have in them those qualifications
which the critics judge requisite to an epi-
sode. They are nearly related to the prin-
cipal action, and have a just connexion with
the fable.

The eighth book opens with a beautiful description of the impression which this discourse of the archangel made on our first parents. Adam afterwards, by a very natural curiosity, inquires concerning the motions of those celestial bodies which make the most glorious appearance among the six days' work. The poet here, with a great deal of art, represents Eve as withdrawing from this part of their conversation, to amusements more suitable to her sex. He well knew that the episode in this!

So spake our sire, and by his countenance seem'd
Ent'ring on studious thoughts abtruse; which Eve
Perceiving, where she sat retir'd in sight,
With lowliness majestic from her seat,

And grace that won who saw to wish her stay,
Rose; and went forth among her fruits and flowers,
To visit how they prosper'd, bud and bloom,
Her nursery; they at her coming sprung,
And, touch'd by her fair tendance, gladlier grew.
Yet went she not, as not with such discourse,
Delighted, or not capable her ear

Of what was high: such pleasure she reserv'd,
Adam relating, she sole auditress;
Her husband the relator she prefer'd
Before the angel, and of him to ask
Chose rather: he, she knew, would intermix
Grateful digressions, and solve high dispute
With conjugal caresses; from his lip

Not words alone pleas'd her. O, when meet now
Such pairs, in love and mutual honour join'd!

The angel's returning a doubtful answer to Adam's inquiries, was not only proper for the moral reason which the poet assigns, but because it would have been highly absurd to have given the sanction of an archangel to any particular system of philosophy. The chief points in the Ptolemaic and Copernican hypotheses are described with great conciseness and perspicuity, and at the same time dressed in very pleasing and poetical images.

Adam, to detain the angel, enters afterwards upon his own history, and relates to him the circumstances in which he found himself upon his creation; as also his conversation with his Maker, and his first meeting with Eve. There is no part of the poem more apt to raise the attention of the reader than this discourse of our great ancestor; as nothing can be more surprising and delightful to us, than to hear the senti ments that arose in the first man, while he was yet new and fresh from the hands of his Creator. The poet has interwoven every thing which is delivered upon this subject in holy writ with so many beautiful imaginations of his own, that nothing can be conceived more just and more natural than this whole episode. As our author knew this subject could not but be agreeable to his reader, he would not throw it into the relation of the six days' work, but reserved it for a distinct episode, that he might have an opportunity of expatiating upon it more at large. Before I enter upon this part of the poem, I cannot but take notice of two shining passages in the dialogue between Adam and the angel. The first is that wherein our ancestor gives an account of the pleasure he took in conversing with him, which contains a very noble moral.

For while I sit with thee, I seem in heaven,
And sweeter thy discourse is to my ear
Than fruits of palm-trees (pleasantest to thirst
And hunger both, from labour) at the hour
Of sweet repast; they satiate and soon fill,
Imbued, bring to their sweetness no satiety.
Though pleasant; but thy words, with grace divine

The other I shall mention, is that in which the angel gives a reason why he should be glad to hear the story Adam was about to relate.

For I that day was absent as befel,
Bound on a voyage uncouth and obscure,
Far on excursion towards the gates of hell,
Squar'd in full legion (such command we had,)
To see that none thence issued forth a spy,
Or enemy, while God was in his work,
Lest he, incens'd at such eruption bold,
Destruction with creation might be mix'd.'

There is no question but our poet drew the image in what follows from that in Virgil's sixth book, where Æneas and the Sybil stand before the adamantine gates, which are there described as shut upon the place of torments, and listen to the groans, the clank of chains, and the noise of iron whips, that were heard in those regions of pain and

sorrow.

- Fast we found, fast shut

The dismal gates, and barricado'd strong;
But long ere our approaching heard within
Noise, other than the sound of dance or song,
Torment, and loud lament, and furious rage.'

Adam then proceeds to give an account of his condition and sentiments immediately after his creation. How agreeably does he represent the posture in which he found himself, the delightful landscape that surrounded him, and the gladness of heart which grew up in him on that occasion!

-'As new wak'd from soundest sleep,
Soft on the flow'ry herb I found me laid
In balmy sweat, which with his beams the sun
Soon dry'd, and on the reeking moisture fed,

Straight towards heaven my wond'ring eyes I turn'd
And gaz'd awhile the ample sky; till rais'd
By quick instinctive motion, up I sprung,
As thitherward endeavouring, and upright
Stood on my feet. About me round I saw
Hill, dale, and shady woods, and sunny plains,
And liquid lapse of murmuring streams: by these,
Creatures that liv'd and mov'd, and walk'd, or flew,
Birds on the branches warbling; all things smil'd
With fragrance, and with joy my heart o'erflow'd.'
Adam is afterwards described as sur-
prised at his own existence, and taking a
survey of himself and of all the works of
nature. He likewise is represented as dis-
covering, by the light of reason, that he,
and every thing about him, must have been
the effect of some Being infinitely good and
powerful, and that this Being had a right to
his worship and adoration. His first address
to the Sun, and to those parts of the crea-
tion which made the most distinguished
figure, is very natural and amusing to the
imagination:

-Thou Sun,' said I. 'Fair light,
And thou enlighten'd earth, so fresh and gay,
Ye hills, and dales, ye rivers, woods, and plains,
And ye that live and move, fair creatures, tell,
Tell, if ye saw, how came I thus? how here?"

His next sentiment, when, upon his first going to sleep, he fancies himself losing his existence, and falling away into nothing, can never be sufficiently admired. His dream, in which he still preserves the consciousness of his existence, together with his removal into the garden which was

prepared for his reception, are also circumstances finely imagined, and grounded upon what is delivered in sacred story.

These and the like wonderful incidents in this part of the work, have in them all the beauties of novelty, at the same time that they have all the graces of nature.

They are such as none but a great genius could have thought of; though, upon the perusal of them, they seem to rise of themselves from the subject of which he treats. In a word, though they are natural, they are not obvious; which is the true character of all fine writing.

The impression which the interdiction of the tree of life left in the mind of our first parent is described with great strength and judgment; as the image of the several beasts and birds passing in review before him is very beautiful and lively:

Each bird and beast behold

Approaching two and two, these cow'ring low
With blandishment; each bird stoop'd on his wing.
I nam'd them as they pass'd.'-

Adam in the next place, describes a conference which he held with his Maker upon the subject of solitude. The poet here represents the Supreme Being as making an essay of his own work, and putting to the trial that reasoning faculty with which he had endued his creature. Adam urges, in this divine colloquy, the impossibility of his being happy, though he was the inhabitant of Paradise, and lord of the whole creation, without the conversation and society of some rational creature who should partake those blessings with him. This dialogue, which is supported chiefly by the beauty of the thoughts, without other poetical ornament, is as fine a part as any in the whole poem. The more the reader examines the justness and delicacy of its sentiments, the more he will find himself pleased with it. The poet has wonderfully preserved the character of majesty and condescension in the Creator, and, at the same time, that of humility and adoration in the creature, as particularly in the following lines:

Thus I presumptuous; and the vision bright,
As with a smile more brighten'd, thus reply'd, &c.
-I with leave of speech implor'd,
And humble deprecation, thus reply'd:
"Let not my words offend thee, Heavenly Power,
My Maker, be propitious while I speak." &e.

Adam then proceeds to give an account of his second sleep, and of the dream in which he beheld the formation of Eve. The new passion that was awakened in him at the sight of her is touched very finely.

'Under his forming hands a creature grew,
Manlike, but different sex: so lovely fair,
That what seem'd fair in all the world, seem'd now
Mean, or in her summ'd up, in her contain'd,
And in her looks, which from that time infus'd
Sweetness into my heart, unfelt before;
And into all things from her air inspir'd
The spirit of love and amorous delight.'

Adam's distress upon losing sight of this beautiful phantom, with his exclamations of joy and gratitude at the discovery of a real creature who resembled the apparition

which had been presented to him in hist dream; the approaches he makes to her, and his manner of courtship, are all laid together in a most exquisite propriety of sentiments.

'Neither her outside form'd so fair, nor aught
In procreation common to all kinds,
(Though higher of the genial bed by far,
And with mysterious reverence I deem)
So much delights me, as those graceful acts,
Those thousand decencies that daily flow
From all her words and actions, mix'd with love
And sweet compliance, which declare unfeign'd
Union of mind, or in us both one soul:
Harmony to behold in wedded pair!'

Adam's speech at parting with the angel, has in it a deference and gratitude agreeable to an inferior nature, and at the same time a certain lignity and greatness suitable to the father of mankind in his state of inL.

nocence.

Though this part of the poem is worked up with great warmth and spirit, the love which is described in it is every way suitable to a state of innocence. If the reader compares the description which Adam here gives of his leading Eve to the nuptial bower, with that which Mr. Dryden has made on the same occasion in a scene of his Fall of Man, he will be sensible of the great care which Milton took to avoid all thoughts on so delicate a subject that might be offensive to religion or good manners. The sentiments are chaste, but not cold; and Consuetudinem benignitatis largitioni munerum convey to the mind ideas of the most trans-longe antepono. Hæc est gravium hominum atque magnorum; illa quasi assentatorum populi, multitudinis porting passion, and of the greatest purity. levitatem voluptate quasi titillantium. What a noble mixture of rapture and innocence has the author joined together, in the reflection which Adam makes on the pleasures of love, compared to those of

sense!

Thus have I told thee, all my state, and brought
My story to the sum of earthly bliss
Which I enjoy; and must confess to find
In all things else delight indeed, but such
As us'd or not, works in the mind no change
Nor vehement desire; these delicacies,

I mean of taste, sight, smell, herbs, fruits, and flowers,

Walks, and the melody of birds: but here
Far otherwise, transported I behold,
Transported touch; here passion first I felt,
Commotion strange! in all enjoyments else
Superior and unmov'd, here only weak
Against the charm of beauty's pow'rful glance.
Or nature fail'd in me, and left some part
Not proof enough such object to sustain;
Or from my side subducting, took perhaps
More than enough; at least on her bestow'd
Too much of ornament, in outward show
Elaborate, of inward less exact.

-When I approach
Her loveliness, so absolute she seems,
And in herself complete, so well to know
Her own, that what she wills to do or say,
Seems wisest, virtuousest, discreetest, best;
All higher knowledge in her presence falls
Degraded: wisdom in discourse with her
Loses, discountenanc'd, and like folly shows:
Authority and reason on her wait,

No. 346.] Monday, April 7, 1712.

Tull.

I esteem a habit of benignity greatly preferable to munificence. The former is peculiar to great and distinguished persons; the latter belongs to flatterers of the people, who tickle the levity of the multitude with a kind of pleasure.

WHEN We consider the offices of human life, there is, methinks, something in what we ordinarily call generosity, which, when carefully examined, seems to flow rather from a loose and unguarded temper than an honest and liberal mind. For this reason it is absolutely necessary that all liberality should have for its basis and support frugality. By this means the beneficent spirit works in a man from convictions of reason, not from the impulse of passion. The generous man in the ordinary acceptation, without respect of the demands of his family, will soon find upon the foot of his account, that he has sacrificed to fools, knaves, flatterers, or the deservedly unhappy, all the opportunities of affording any future assistance where it ought to be. Let him therefore reflect, that if to bestow be in itself laudable, should not a man take care to secure an ability to do things praiseworthy as long as he lives? Or could there be a more cruel piece of raillery upon a man who should have reduced his fortune below the capacity of acting according to his natural temper, than to say of him, These sentiments of love in our first pa- That gentleman was generous? My berent, gave the angel such an insight into loved author therefore has, in the sentence human nature, that he seems apprehensive on the top of my paper, turned his eye with of the evils which might befall the species a certain satiety from beholding the adin general, as well as Adam in particular, dresses to the people by largesses and pubfrom the excess of his passion. He there- lic entertainments, which he asserts to be fore fortifies him against it by timely ad- in general vicious, and are always to be monitions; which very artfully prepare the regulated according to the circumstances mind of the reader for the occurrences of of time and a man's own fortune. A conthe next book, where the weakness, of stant benignity in commerce with the rest which Adam here gives such distant dis- of the world, which ought to run through coveries, brings about that fatal event which all a man's actions, has effects more useful is the subject of the poem. His discourse, to those whom you oblige and is less ostenwhich follows the gentle rebuke he received tatious in yourself. He turns his recomfrom the angel, shows that his love, how-mendation of this virtue on commercial life: ever violent it might appear, was still and, according to him, a citizen who is founded in reason, and consequently not frank in his kindnesses, and abhors severity improper for Paradise: in his demands: he who, in buying, selling,

As one intended first, not after made
Occasionally; and to consummate all,
Greatness of mind and nobleness their seat
Build in her loveliest, and create an awe
About her, as a guard angelic plac'd.'

lending, doing acts of good neighbourhood, | Without this benignity, pride or vengeance is just and easy; he who appears naturally will precipitate a man to choose the receipt averse to disputes, and above the sense of of half his demands from one whom he has little sufferings; bears a noble character, undone, rather than the whole from one to and does much more good to mankind than whom he has shown mercy. This benignity any other man's fortune, without com- is essential to the character of a fair trader, merce, can possibly support. For the citi- and any man who designs to enjoy his wealth zen above all other men, has opportunities with honour and self-satisfaction; nay, it of arriving at the highest fruit of wealth,' would not be hard to maintain, that the to be liberal without the least expense of a practice of supporting good and industrious man's own fortune. It is not to be denied men would carry a man farther even to his but such a practice is liable to hazard; but profit, than indulging the propensity of this therefore adds to the obligation, that, serving and obliging the fortunate. My auamong traders, he who obliges is as much thor argues on this subject, in order to inconcerned to keep the favour a secret as he cline men's minds to those who want them who receives it. The unhappy distinctions most, after this manner. We must always among us in England are so great, that to consider the nature of things, and govern celebrate the intercourse of commercial ourselves accordingly. The wealthy man, friendship (with which I am daily made when he has repaid you, is upon a balance, acquainted) would be to raise the virtuous with you; but the person whom you favoured man so many enemies of the contrary party. with a loan, if he be a good man, will think I am obliged to conceal all I know of Tom himself in your debt after he has paid you. the Bounteous,' who lends at the ordinary The wealthy and the conspicuous are not interest, to give men of less fortune oppor- obliged by the benefits you do them; they tunities of making greater advantages. He think they conferred a benefit when they conceals, under a rough air and distant be- received one. Your good offices are always haviour, a bleeding compassion and wo- suspected, and it is with them the same manish tenderness. This is governed by thing to expect their favour as to receive it. the most exact circumspection, that there But the man below you, who knows, in the is no industry wanting in the person whom good you have done him, you respected he is to serve, and that he is guilty of no himself more than his circumstances, does improper expenses. This I know of Tom; not act like an obliged man only to him but who dare say it of so known a Tory? from whom he has received a benefit, but The same care I was forced to use some also to all who are capable of doing him one. time ago, in the report of another's virtue, And whatever little offices he can do for and said fifty instead of a hundred, because you, he is so far from magnifying it, that he the man I pointed at was a Whig. Actions will labour to extenuate it in all his actions of this kind are popular, without being in- and expressions. Moreover, the regard to vidious: for every man of ordinary circum- what you do to a great man at best is taken stances looks upon a man who has this notice of no further than by himself or his known benignity in his nature as a person family; but what you do to a man of an ready to be his friend upon such terms as humble fortune (provided always that he is he ought to expect it; and the wealthy who a good and a modest man) raises the affecmay envy such a character, can do no in- tions towards you of all men of that characjury to its interests, but by the imitation of ter (of which there are many) in the whole ít, in which the good citizen will rejoice to city. be rivalled. I know not how to form to myself a greater idea of human life, than in what is the practice of some wealthy men whom I could name, that make no step to the improvement of their own fortunes, wherein they do not also advance those of other men who would languish in poverty without that munificence. In a nation where there are so many public funds to be supported, I know not whether he can be called a good subject, who does not embark some part of his fortune with the state, to whose vigilance he owes the security of the whole. This certainly is an immediate way of laying an obligation upon many, and extending your benignity the farthest a man can possibly, who is not engaged in commerce. But he who trades, besides giving the state some part of this sort of credit he gives his banker, may, in all the occurrences of his life, have his eye upon removing want from the door of the industrious, and defending the unhappy upright man from bankruptcy.

There is nothing gains a reputation to a preacher so much as his own practice; I am therefore casting about what act of benignity is in the power of a Spectator. Alas! that lies but in a very narrow compass; and I think the most immediately under my patronage are either players, or such whose circumstances bear an affinity with theirs. All, therefore, I am able to do at this time of this kind, is to tell the town, that on Friday the 11th of this instant, April, there will be performed in YorkBuildings, a concert of vocal and instrumental music, for the benefit of Mr. Edward Keen, the father of twenty children; and that this day the haughty George Powell hopes all the good-natured part of the town will favour him, whom they applauded in Alexander, Timon, Lear, and Orestes, with their company this night, when he hazards all his heroic glory for their approbation in the humble condition of honest Jack Falstaff.

T.

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