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And over the young one it was said, "That | night, that I awakened at the knock, and he departed this world in the 25th year of his death."

heard myself complimented with the usual salutation of "Good morrow, Mr. BickerThe next class of criminals, were authors staffe; good morrow, my masters all." in prose and verse. Those of them who had The silence and darkness of the night disproduced any still-born work, were immedi-posed me to be more than ordinarily serious: ately dismissed to their burial, and were followed by others, who, notwithstanding some sprightly issue in their life-time, had given proofs of their death, by some posthumous children, that bore no resemblance to their elder brethren. As for those who were the fathers of a mixed progeny, provided always they could prove the last to be a live child, they escaped with life, but not without loss of limbs; for in this case, I was satisfied with an amputation of the parts which were mortified.

These were followed by a great crowd of superanuated benchers of the inns of court, senior fellows of colleges, and defunct statesmen; all whom I ordered to be decimated indifferently, allowing the rest a reprieve for one year, with a promise of a free pardon in case of resuscitation.

There were still great multitudes to be examined; but finding it very late, I adjourned the court; not without the secret pleasure that I had done my duty, and furnished out a handsome execution,

Going out of the court, I received a letter, informing me, "That, in pursuance of the edict of justice in one of my late visions, all those of the fair sex began to appear pregnant who had run any hazard of it; as was manifest by a particular swelling in the petticoats of several ladies in and about this great city. I must confess, I do not attribute the rising of this part of the dress to this occasion, yet must own, that I am very much disposed to be offended with such a new and unaccountable fashion. I shall, however, pronounce nothing upon it, till I have examined all that can be said for and against it. And in the mean time, think fit to give this notice to the fair ladies who are now making up their winter suits, that they may abstain from all dresses of that kind, till they shall find what judgment will be passed upon them; for it would very much trouble me, that they should put themselves to an unnecessary expense; and I could not but think myself to blame, if I should hereafter forbid them the wearing of such garments, when they have laid out money upon them, without having given them any previous admonitions."*

No. 111.] Saturday, December 24, 1709.

-Procul O! Procul este profani ! Virg.

Sheer-Lane, December 23. THE watchman, who does me particular honours, as being the chief man in the lane, gave so very great a thump at my door last

* Sir Richard Steele assisted in this paper.

and as my attention was not drawn out among exterior objects, by the avocations of sense, my thoughts naturally fell upon myself. I was considering, amidst the stillness of the night, what was the proper employment of a thinking being? What were the perfections it should propose to itself? And, what the end it should aim at? My mind is of such a particular cast, that the falling of a shower of rain, or the whistling of the wind, at such a time, is apt to fill my thoughts with something awful and solemn. I was in this disposition, when our bellman began his midnight homily, (which he has been repeating to us every winter night for these twenty years,) with the usual exordium,

Oh! mortal man, thou that art born in sin ! Sentiments of this nature, which are in them selves just and reasonable, however debased by the circumstances that accompany them, do not fail to produce their natural effect in a mind that is not perverted and depraved by wrong notions of gallantry, politeness, and ridicule. The temper which I now founa myself in, as well as the time of the year, put me in mind of those lines in Shakspeare, wherein, according to his agreeable wildness of imagination, he has wrought a country tradition into a beautiful piece of poetry. In the tragedy of Hamlet, where the ghost vanishes upon the cock's crowing, he takes occasion to mention its crowing all hours of the night about Christmas time, and to insinuate a kind of religious veneration for that season.

It faded on the crowing of the cock,

Some say, that ever 'gainst that season comes
Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated,
The bird of dawning singeth all night long;
And then, say they, no spirit dares walk abroad.
The nights are wholesome, then no planets strike,
No fairy takes, no witch has power to charm;
So hallowed and so gracious is the time

This admirable author, as well as the best and greatest men of all ages, and of all nations, seems to have had his mind thoroughly seasoned with religion, as is evident by many passages in his plays, that would not be suffered by a modern audience; and are therefore certain instances, that the age he lived in had a much greater sense of virtue than the present.

It is, indeed, a melancholy reflection to consider, that the British nation, which is now at a greater height of glory for its councils and conquests than it ever was before, should distinguish itself by a certain looseness of principles, and a falling off from those schemes of thinking, which conduce to the happiness and perfection of human nature. This evil comes upon us from the works of a few solemn blockheads, that meet together with the zeal and seriousness of apostles, to

extirpate common sense, and propagate in- | had denied a Supreme Being ever since he fidelity. These are the wretches, who, came to his estate. The good man was aswithout any show of wit, learning, or rea- tonished; and a report immediately ran son, publish their crude conceptions with through the ship, that there was an atheist the ambition of appearing more wise than upon the upper deck. Several of the comthe rest of mankind, upon no other pretence, mon seamen, who had never heard the word than that of dissenting from them. One before, thought it had been some strange gets by heart a catalogue of title-pages and fish; but they were more surprised when editions; and immediately to become con- they saw it was a man, and heard out of his spicuous, declares that he is an unbeliever. own mouth, "That he never believed till | Another knows how to write a receipt, or that day that there was a God." As he lay cut up a dog, and forthwith argues against in the agonies of confession, one of the honest the immortality of the soul. I have known tars whispered to the boatswain, "That it many a little wit, in the ostentation of his would be a good deed to heave him overparts, rally the truth of the scriptures, who board." But we were now within sight of was not able to read a chapter in it. These port, when of a sudden the wind fell, and the poor wretches talk blasphemy for want of penitent relapsed, begging all of us that were discourse, and are rather the objects of present, as we were gentlemen, not to say scorn or pity, than of our indignation; but any thing of what had passed. the grave disputant, that reads, and writes, and spends all his time in convincing himself and the world, that he is no better than a brute, ought to be whipped out of a government, as a blot to a civil society, and a defamer of mankind. I love to consider an infidel, whether distinguished by the title of deist, atheist, or free-thinker, in three different lights; in his solitude, his afflictions, and his last moments.

A wise man, that lives up to the principles of reason and virtue, if one considers him in his solitude, as taking in the system of the universe, observing the mutual dependance and harmony by which the whole frame of it hangs together, beating down his passions, or swelling his thoughts with magnificent ideas of Providence, makes a nobler figure in the eye of an intelligent being, than the greatest conqueror amidst the pomps and solemnities of a triumph. On the contrary, there is not a more ridiculous animal than an atheist in his retirement. His mind is incapable of rapture or elevation: he can only consider himself as an insignificant figure in a landscape, and wandering up and down in a field or meadow, under the same terms as the meanest animals about him, and subject to as total a mortality as they, with this aggravation, that he is the only one amongst them who lies under the apprehension of it.

In distresses, he must be of all creatures the most helpless and forlorn; he feels the whole pressure of a present calamity, without being relieved by the memory of any thing that is passed, or the prospect of any thing that is to come. Annihilation is the greatest blessing that he proposes to himself, and a halter or a pistol the only efuge he can fly to. But if you would behe d one of these gloomy miscreants in his poorest figure, you must consider him under the terrors, or at the approach of death,

About thirty years ago I was on shipboard with one of these vermin, when there arose a brisk gale, which could frighten nobody but himself. Upon the rolling of the ship he fell upon his knees, and confessed to the chaplain, that he had been a vile atheist, and

He had not been ashore above two days, when one of the company began to rally him upon his devotion on shipboard, which the other denied in such high terms, that it produced the lie on both sides, and ended in a duel. The atheist was run through the body, and, after some loss of blood, became as good a Christian as he was at sea, till he found that his wound was not mortal. is at present one of the free-thinkers of the age, and now writing a pamphlet against several received opinions concerning the existence of fairies.

He

As I have taken upon me to censure the faults of the age and country which I live in, I should have thought myself inexcusable to have passed over this crying one, which is the subject of my present discourse. I shall, therefore, from time to time, give my countrymen particular cautions against this distemper of the mind, that is almost become fashionable, and by that means more likely to spread. I have somewhere either read or heard a very memorable sentence, "That a man would be a most insupportable monster, should he have the faults that are incident to his years, constitution, profession, family, religion, age, and country; and yet every man is in danger of them all. For this reason, as I am an old man, I take particular care to avoid being covetous, and telling long stories: as I am choleric, I forbear not only swearing, but all interjections of fretting; as Pugh! Pish! and the like. As I am a layman, I resolve not to conceive an aversion for a wise and good man, because his coat is of a different colour from mine. As I am descended of the ancient families of Bickerstaffes, I never call a man of merit an upstart. As a Protestant, I do not suffer my zeal so far to transport me, as to name the Pope and the Devil together. As I am fallen into this degenerate age, I guard myself particularly against the folly I have been now speaking of. And as I am an Englishman, I am very cautious not to hate a stranger, or despise a poor Palatine.*

*Sir Richard Steel assisted in this paper

No. 114.] Saturday, December 31, 1709.
Ut in vitâ, sic in studiis, pulcherrimum et humanissi-
mum existimo, severitatem comitatemque miscere, ne
illa in tristitiam, hæc in petulantiam procedat.
Plin. Epist.
Sheer-Lane, December 30.

had been composed a little before, at the sight of me, turned away his face, and wept. The little family of children renewed the expressions of their sorrow, according to their several ages and degrees of understanding. The eldest daughter was in tears, busied in attendance upon her mother; others were kneeling about the bed-side: and what troubled me most was, to see a little boy, who was too young to know the reason, weeping only because his sisters did. The only one in the room who seemed resigned and comforted, was the dying person. At my approach to the bed-side, she told me, with a low broken voice, "This is kindly done-Take care of your friend—Do not go from him." She had before taken leave of her husband and children, in a manner proper for so solemn a parting, and with a gracefulness peculiar to a woman of her character. My heart was torn to pieces to see the husband on one side suppressing and keeping down the swellings of his grief, for fear of disturbing her in her last moments; and the wife even at that time concealing the pains she endured, for fear of increasing his affliction. She kept her eyes upon him for some moments after she grew speechless, and soon after closed them for ever. In the moment of her departure, my friend (who had thus far commanded himself) gave a deep groan, and fell into a swoon by her bedside. The distraction of the children, who thought they saw both their parents expiring together, and now lying dead before them, would have melted the hardest heart; but they soon perceived their father recover, whom I helped to remove into another room, with a resolution to accompany him till the first pangs of his affliction were abated. I knew consolation would now be impertinent; and therefore contented myself to sit by him, and condole with him in silence: for I shall here use the method of an ancient author, who, in one of his epistles, relating the virtues and death of Macrinus's wife, expresses himself thus: "I shall suspend my advice to this best of friends, till he is made capable of receiving it by those three great remedies, (necessitas ipsa, dies longa, et satietas doloris,) the necessity of submission, length of time, and satiety of grief."

I WAS walking about my chamber this morning in a very gay humour, when I saw | n coach stop at my door, and a youth about fifteen alighting out of it, whom I perceived to be the eldest son of my bosom friend, that I gave some account of in my paper of the 17th of the last month. I felt a sensible pleasure rising in me at the the sight of him, my acquaintance having begun with his father when he was just such a stripling, and about that very age. When he came up to me, he took me by the hand, and burst into tears. I was extremely moved, and immediately said, “Child, how does your father do? He began to reply, "My mother". but could not go on for weeping. I went down with him into the coach, and gathered out of him, that his mother was then dying; and that while the holy man was doing the last offices to her, he had taken that time to come and call me to his father, "Who (he said) would certainly break his heart, if I did not go and comfort him.” The child's discretion in coming to me of his own head, and the tenderness he showed for his parents, would have quite overpowered me, had ĺ not resolved to fortify myself for the seasonable performance of those duties which I owed to my friend. As we were going, I could not but reflect upon the charracter of that excellent woman, and the greatness of his grief, for the loss of one who had ever been the support of him under all other afflictions. How (thought I) will he be able to bear the hour of her death, that could not, when I was lately with him, speak of a sickness, which was then past, without sorrow? We were now got pretty far into Westminster, and arrived at my friend's house. At the door of it I met Favonius, not without a secret satisfaction, to find he had been there. I had formerly conversed with him at his house; and as he abounds with that sort of virtue and knowledge which makes religion beautiful, and never leads | the conversation into the violence and rage of party-disptutes, I listened to him with In the mean time, I cannot but consider, great pleasure. Our discourse chanced to with much commiseration, the melancholy be upon the subject of death, which he treat-state of one who has had such a part of himed with such a strength of reason, and greatness of soul, that, instead of being terrible, it appeared to a mind rightly cultivated, not altogether to be contemned, but rather to be desired. As I met him at the door, I saw in his face a certain glowing of grief and humanity, heightened with an air of fortitude and resolution, which, as I afterwards found, had such an irresistible force, as to suspend the pains of the dying, and the lamentation of the nearest friends who attended her. I went up directly to the room where she lay, and was met at the entrance by my friend, who, notwithstanding his thoughts

self torn from him, and which he misses in every circumstance of life. His condition is like that of one who has lately lost his right arm, and is every moment offering to help himself with it. He does not appear to himself the same person in his house, at his table, in company, or in retirement; and loses the relish of all the pleasures and diversions that were before entertaining to him by her participation of them. The most agreeable objects recall the sorrow for her with whom he used to enjoy them. This additional satisfaction, from the taste of pleasures in the society of one we love, is admirably described

by Milton, who represents Eve, though in Paradise itself, no further pleased with the beautiful objects around her, than as she sees them in company with Adam, in that passage so inexpressibly charming.

With thee conversing, I forget all time,

All seasons, and their change; all please alike. Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet, With charm of earliest birds; pleasant the sun, When first on this delightful land he spreads His orient beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flower, Glist'ring with dew; fragrant the fertile earth After soft showers; and sweet the coming on Of grateful evening mild; the silent night, With this her solemn bird, and this fair moon, And these the gems of heaven, her starry train. But neither breath of morn, when she ascends With charm of earliest birds, nor rising sun In this delightful land, nor herb, fruit, flower, Glist'ring with dew, nor fragrance after showers, Nor grateful evening mild, nor silent night, With this her solemn bird, nor walk by moon, Or glittering star-light, without thee is sweet. The variety of images in this passage is infinitely pleasing; and the recapitulation of each particular image, with a little varying of expression, makes one of the finest turns of words that I have ever seen: which I the rather mention, because Mr. Dryden has said in his preface to Juvenal, "That he could meet with no turn of words in Milton." It may further be observed, that though the sweetness of these verses has something in it of a pastoral, yet it excels the ordinary kind as much as the scene of it is above an ordinary field or meadow. I might here, since I am accidentally led into this subject, show several passages in Milton that have as excellent turns of this nature, as any of our English poets whatsoever; but shall only mention that which follows, in which he describes the fallen angels engaged in the intricate disputes of predestination, free-will, and fore-knowledge; and to humour the perplexity, makes a kind of labyrinth in the very words that describe it. *

Others apart sat on a hill retir'd,

In thoughts more elevate, and reason'd high
Of Providence, fore-knowledge, will, and fate,
Fix'd fate, free-will, fore-knowledge absolute,
And found no end, in wand'ring mazes lost.

No. 116.] Thursday, January 5, 1709.

-Pars minima est ipsa puella sui.—Ovid. Sheer-Lane, January 4. THE Court being prepared for proceeding on the cause of the Petticoat, I gave orders to bring in a criminal who was taken up as she went out of the puppet-show about three nights ago, and was now standing in the street with a great concourse of people about her. Word was brought me, that she had endeavoured twice or thrice to come in, but could not do it by reason of her petticoat, which was too large for the entrance of my house, though I had ordered both the foldingdoors to be thrown open for its reception. Jpon this, I desired the jury of matrons,

* Sir Richard Steele assisted in this paper.

who stood at my right hand, to inform themselves of her condition, and know whether there were any private reasons why she might not make her appearance separate from her petticoat. This was managed with great discretion, and had such an effect, that, upon the return of the verdict from the bench of matrons, I issued out an order forthwith, that the criminal should be stripped of her incumbrances, till she became little enough to enter my house. I had before given directions for an engine of several legs, that could contract or open itself like the top of an umbrella, in order to place the petticoat upon it; by which means I might take a leisurely survey of it, as it should appear in its proper dimensions. This was all done accordingly: and forthwith, upon the closing of the engine, the petticoat was brought into court. I then directed the machine to be set upon the table, and dilated in such a manner as to show the garment in its utmost circumference; but my great hall was too narrow for the experiment; for before it was half unfolded, it described so immoderate a circle, that the lower part of it brushed upon my face, as I sat in my chair of judicature. I then inquired for the person that belonged to the petticoat; and, to my great surprise, was directed to a very beautiful young damsel, with so pretty a face and shape, that I bid her come out of the crowd, and seated her upon a little crock at my left hand. "My pretty maid, (said I,) do you own yourself to have been the inhabitant of the garment before us?" The girl I found had good sense, and told me, with a smile, "That, notwithstanding it was her own petticoat, she should be very glad to see an example made of it; and that she wore it for no other reason, but that she had a mind to lock as big and burly as other persons of her quality; that she had kept out of it as long as she could, and until she began to appear little in the eyes of all her acquaintance; that if she laid it aside, people would think she was not made like other women. I always give great allowances to the fair sex upon account of the fashion, and therefore was not displeased with the defence of the pretty criminal. I then ordered the vest which stood before us to be drawn up by a pully to the top of my great hall, and afterwards to be spread open by the engine it was placed upon, in such a manner, that it formed a very splendid and ample canopy over our heads, and covered the whole court of judicature with a kind of silken rotunda, in its form not unlike the cupola of St. Paul's. I entered upon the whole cause with great satisfaction, as I sat under the shadow of it.

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The counsel for the Petticoat were now called in, and ordered to produce what they had to say against the popular cry which was raised against it. They answered the objections with great strength and solidity of argument, and expatiated in very florid harangues, which they did not fail to set off and furbelow (if I may be allowed the met

ence;

aphor) with many periodical sentences and | forfeiture: but to show that I did not make turns of oratory. The chief arguments for that judgment for the sake of filthy lucre, I their client were taken, first, from the great ordered it to be folded up, and sent it as a benefit that might arise to our woollen man- present to a widow gentlewoman, who has ufactory from this invention, which was cal- five daughters, desiring she would make culated as follows: the common petticoat each of them a petticoat out of it, and send has not above four yards in the circumfer-me back the remainder, which I design to whereas this over our heads, had cut into stomachers, caps, facings of my more in the semi-diameter; so that by al- waistcoat-sleeves, and other garnitures suitalowing it twenty-four yards in the circum- ble to my age and quality. ference, the five millions of woollen petticoats, which, according to Sir William Petty, (supposing what ought to be supposed in a well-governed state, that all petticoats are made of that stuff,) would amount to thirty millions of those of the ancient mode. A prodigious improvement of the woollen trade! and what could not fail to sink the power of France in a few years.

To introduce the second argument, they begged leave to read a petition of the ropemakers, wherein it was represented, that the demand for cords, and the price of them, were much risen since this fashion came up. At this, all the company who were present, lifted up their eyes into the vault; and I must confess, we did discover many traces of cordage which were interwoven in the stiffening of the drapery.

A third argument was founded upon a petition of the Greenland trade, which likewise represented the great consumption of whalebone which would be occasioned by the present fashion, and the benefit which would thereby accrue to that branch of the British trade.

To conclude, they gently touched upon the weight and unwieldiness of the garment, which they insinuated, might be of great use to preserve the honour of families.

These arguments would have wrought very much upon me, (as I then told the company in a long and elaborate discourse,) had I not considered the great and additional expense which such fashions would bring upon fathers and husbands; and therefore by no means to be thought of until some years after a peace. I further urged, that it would be a prejudice to the ladies themselves, who could never expect to have any money in the pocket, if they laid out so much on the petticoat. To this I added, the great temptation it might give to virgins, of acting in security like married women, and by that means give a check to matrimony, an institution always encouraged by wise so

I would not be understood that (while I discard this monstrous invention) I am an enemy to the proper ornaments of the fair sex. On the contrary, as the hand of nature has poured on them such a profusion of charms and graces, and sent them into the world_more amiable and finished then the rest of her works; so I would have them bestow upon themselves all the additional beauties that art can supply them with, provided it does not interfere with, disguise, or pervert those of nature.

I consider woman as a beautiful romantic animal, that may be adorned with furs and feathers, pearls and diamonds, ores and silks. The lynx shall cast its skin at her feet to make her a tippet; the peacock, parrot, and swan, shall pay contributions to her muff; the sea shall be searched for shells, and the rocks for gems; and every part of nature furnish out its share towards the embellishment of a creature that is the most consummate work of it. All this I shall indulge them in; but as for the petticoat I have been speaking of, I neither can nor will allow it.

No. 117.] Saturday, January 7, 1709.
Durate, et vosmet rebus servate secundis.-Virg.

Sheer-Lane, January 8. WHEN I look into the frame and constitution of my own mind, there is no part of it which I observe with greater satisfaction, than that tenderness and concern which it bears for the good and happiness of mankind. My own circumstances are indeed so narrow and scanty, that I should taste but very little pleasure, could I receive it only from those enjoyments which are in my own possession; but by this great tincture of humanity, which I find in all my thoughts and reflections, I am happier than any single person can be, with all the wealth, strength, beauty, and success, that can be conferred upon a mortal, if he only relishes such a proportion of those blessings as is vested in At the same time, in answer to the sever- himself, and is his own private property. al petitions produced on that side, I showed By this means, every man that does himself one subscribed by the women of several any real service, does me a kindness. I persons of quality, humbly setting forth, that come in for my share in all the good that since the introduction of this mode, their re-happens to a man of merit and virtue, and spective ladies had (instead of bestowing on partake of many gifts of fortune and power them their cast gowns) cut them into shreds, that I was never born to. There is nothing and mixed them with the cordage and buck-in particular in which I so much rejoice, as ram, to complete the stiffening of their un- the deliverance of good and generous spirits der-petticoats. For which, and sundry out of dangers, difficulties, and distresses. other reasons, I pronounced the petticoat a | And because the world does not supply in

cieties.

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