I am do not you know my voice look upon me when I fpeak to you: I fay, madam, this fellow here is to know of me myfelf, whether I am at leifure to fee company or not. from this hour mafter of this houfe; and my bufinefs in it, aud every where elfe, is to behave myself in fuch a manner, as it fhall be hereafter an honour to you to bear my name; and your pride, that you are the delight, the darling and ornament of a man of honour, ufeful and efteemed by his friends; and I no longer one that has buried fome merit in the orld, in compliance to a froward humour which has grown upon an agreeable woman by his indulgence. Mr. Freeman ended this with a tenderness in his afpect and a down-caft eye, "which thewed he was extremely moved at the ⚫ anguish he faw her in; for fhe fat fwelling with paffion, and her eyes fixed on the fire; when I, fearing he would lofe all again, took upon · me to provoke her out of that amiable forrow fhe was in, to fall upon me; upon which I ⚫ faid very seasonably for my friend, that indeed Mr. Freeman was become the common talk of the town; and that nothing was fo much a jet, as when it was faid in company Mr. Freeman has promifed to come to fuch a place. Upon which the good lady turned her foftness ' into downright rage, and threw the fcalding tea-kettle upon your humble fervant; flew into the middle of the room, and cried out the was the unfortunateft of all women: others kept family dissatisfactions for hours of privacy and retirement: no apology was to be made to her, no expedient to be found, no previous manner of breaking what was amifs in her; but all the world was to be acquainted with her errors, without the least admonition, Mr. Freeman was going to make a softening speech, but I interpofed; look you, madam, I have nothing to fay to this matter, but you ought to confider you are now paft a chicken; this humour, which was well enough in a girl, is infufferable in one of your motherly character. With that the loft all patience, and flew directly at her husband's periwig. I got her in my arms, and defended my friend: he making figns at the fame time that it was too much; I beckoning, nodding, and frowning over her 'fhoulder, that he was loft if he did not persist. In this manner the flew round and round the room in a moment, until the lady I fpoke of above and fervants entered; upon which the fell on a couch as breathlefs. I ftill kept up my friend; but he, with a very filly air, bid them bring the coach to the door, and we went off, I being forced to bid the coachman • drive on. We were no fooner come to my lodgings, but all his wife's relations came to enquire after him; and Mrs. Freeman's mother writ a note, wherein fhe thought never to have feen this day, and fo forth. In a word, Sir, I am afraid we are upon a thing we have not talents for; and I can obferve already, my friend looks upon me rather as a man who knows a weakness of him that he is afhamed of, than one who has refcued ⚫ him from flavery. Mr. Spectator, I am but a young fellow, and if Mr. Freeman fubmits, I fhall be looked upon as an incendiary, and never get a wife as long as I breathe. He has indeed fent word home he fhall lie at Hampftead to-night; but I believe fear of the first 'onfet after this rupture has too great a place in this refolution. Mrs. Freeman has a very pretty fifter; fuppofe I delivered him up, and 'articled with the mother for her bringing him 'home. If he has not courage to ftand it, you are as great a cafuift, is it fuch an ill thing to 'bring myself off, as well as I can? What makes 6 me doubt my man, is, that I find he thinks it reasonable to expoftulate at leaft with her; and Capt. Sentry will tell you, if you let your ' orders be difputed, you are no longer a com'mander. I with you could advise me how to get clear of this business handfomely. • Your's, • Tom Meggot.' No 217. THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 8. Et pariter toto repetitur clamor ab antro. Juv. Sat. 6. ver. 326. Then unrestrain'd by rules of decency, Th' affembled females raife a general cry. Setters from my correfpondents. The first Shall entertain my reader to-day with fome of them is a description of a club, whether real or imaginary, I cannot determine; but am apt to fancy, that the writer of it, whoever the is, has formed a kind of nocturnal orgie out of her own fancy: whether this be fo or not, her letter may conduce to the amendment of that kind of perfons who are represented in it, and whose characters are frequent enough in the world. Mr. Spectator, N fome of your papers you were pleased to feveral clubs and nocturnal affemblies; but I am a member of a fociety which has wholly 'efcaped your notice, I mean a club of Sheromps. We take each a hackney-coach, and 'meet once a week in a large upper chamber, which we hire by the year for that purpose; our landlord and his family, who are quiet people, conftantly contriving to be abroad on our club-night. We are no fooner come together, than we throw off all that modefty and refervednefs with which our fex are obliged to difguife themfelves in public places. I am not able to exprefs the pleasure we enjoy from ten at night until four in the morning, in being as rude as you men can be for your lives. As our play runs high, the room is immediately filled with broken fans, torn petticoats, lappets, or head-dreffes, flounces, furbelows, garters, and working aprons. I had forgot 'to tell you at firft, that befides the coaches we 'come in ourselves, there is one which stands always empty to carry of our dead men, for fo we call all thofe fragments and tatters with which the room is ftrewed, and which we pack up together in bundles and put into the aforefaid coach: it is no fmall diverfion for us to meet the next night at fome member's chamber, where every one is to pick out what belonged to her from this confufed bundle of filks, ftuffs, laces, and ribbons. I have hitherto given you an account of our diverfion on ordinary club-nights; but must acquaint you further, that once a month we demolish a " prude, prude, that is, we get fome queer formal crea*ture in among us, and unrig her in an instant. Our last month's prude was fo arm'd and fortified in whalebone and buckram, that we ⚫ had much ado to come at her; but you would have died with laughing to have feen how the fober aukward thing looked when the was • forced out of her intrenchments. In fhort, Sir, it is impoffible to give you a true notion of our fport, unless you would come one night amongst us; and though it be directly against the rules of our fociety to admit a male vifitant, we repofe so much confidence in your fi⚫lence and taciturnity, that it was agreed by the whole club, at our last meeting, to give you entrance for one night as a spectator. I am your humble fervant, Kitty Termagant, P. S. We fhall demolish a prude next Thurfday.' No 218. FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 9. Though I thank Kitty for her kind offer, I do not at prefent find in myself any inclination to venture my perfon with her and her romping companions. I fhould regard myself as a fecond Clodius, intruding on the myfterious rites of the Bona Dea, and fhould apprehend being de- Of whom you talk, to whom, and what, and molished as much as the prude. The following letter comes from a gentleman, whofe taste I find is much too delicate to endure the leaft advance towards romping. I may perhaps hereafter improve upon the hint he has given me, and make it the fubject of a whole Spectator; in the mean time take it as it follows in his own words. Mr. Spectator, is my misfortune to be in love with a Have a care where. I the other Iyun my misforth to be lily love witting to faults, which though they give me the utmost uneafinefs, I know not how to reprove her for, or even acquaint her with. She is pretty, dreffes well, is rich, and good-humour'd; but either wholly neglects, or has no notion of that which polite people have agreed to diftinguish by the name of Delicacy. After our return from a walk the other day, the threw herself into an elbow-chair, and profeffed before a large company, that "fhe was all over in a "fweat." She told me this afternoon "that *her ftomach aked;" and was complaining * yesterday at dinner of fomething that "ftuck "in her teeth." I treated her with a basket of fruit laft fummer, which the eat so very greedily, as almost made me refolve never to fee her more. In short, Sir, I begin to tremble whenever I fee her about to speak or move. As the does not want fenfe, if she takes thefe bints I am happy; if not, I am more than afraid, that thefe things which fhock me even in the behaviour of a miftrefs, will appear infupport able in that of a wife. POOLY. ftroll into a little coffee houfe beyond Aldgate; and as I fat there, two or three very plain fenfible men were talking of the Spectator. One faid, that he had that morning drawn the great benefit-ticket; another wished he had; but a third thaked his head and faid, it was pity that the writer of that paper was fuch a fort of man, that it was no great matter whether he had it or He is, it feems faid the good man, the mot extravagant creature in the world; has run through vaft fums, and yet been in continual want; a man, for all he talks fo well of œconomy, unfit for any of the offices of life by reafon of his profufenefs. It would be an unhappy thing to be his wife, his child, or his friend and yet he talks as well of thofe duties of life as any one. Much reflexion has brought me to fo caly a contempt for every thing which is falfe, that this heavy accufation gave me no manner of uneafinefs; but at the fame time it threw me into deep thought upon the fubject of fame in general; and I could not but pity fuch as were fo weak, as to value what the common people fay out of their own talkative temper to the advantage or diminution of thofe whom they mention, without being moved either by malice or goodwill. It will be too long to expatiate upon the fenfe all mankind have of fame, and the inexpreffible pleasure which there is in the approbation of worthy men, to all who are capable of worthy actions; but methinks one may divide the general word fame into three different fpecies, as it regards the different orders of mankind who have any thing to do with it. Fame therefore may be divided into glory, which refpects the hero; reputation, which is preferved by every gentleman; and credit, which must be fupported by every tradefman. These poffeffions in fame are dearer than life to thofe characters of men, or rather are the life of thefe chara&ers. Glory, while the hero purfues great and noble enter prizes, is Impregnable; and all the affailants of NA his his renown do but fhew their pain and impatience of its brightness, without throwing the leaft fhade upon it. If the foundation of an high name be virtue and fervice, all that is offered against it is but rumour, which is too fhort-lived to ftand up in competition with glory, which is everlasting. Reputation, which is the portion of every man who would live with the elegant and knowing part of mankind, is as ftable as glory, if it be as well founded; and the commcn caufe of human fociety is thought concerned when we hear a man of good behaviour calumniated: befides which, according to a prevailing cuftom amongst us, every man has his defence in his out of countenance, and overtaken by difgrace. The most unhappy of all men, and the moft exposed to the malignity and wantonnefs of the common voice, is the trader. Credit is undone in whispers. The tradefman's wound is received from one who is more private and more cruel than the ruffian with the lanthorn and dagger. The manner of repeating a man's name,-As; "Mr. Cafh, Oh! do you leave your money at his fhop? Why, do you know Mr. Searoom? "He is indeed a general merchant." I fay, I have feen, from the iteration of a man's name, hiding one thought of him, and explaining what you hide, by faying fomething to his advantage when you speak, a merchant hurt in his credit; and him who every day he lived, literally added to the value of his native country, undone by one who was only a burden and a blemish to it. Since every body who knows the world is fenfible of this great evil, how careful ought a man to be in his language of a merchant? It may poffibly be in the power of a very fhallow creature to lay the ruin of the best family in the most opuTent city; and the mere fo, the more highly he deferves of his country; that is to fay, the farther he places his wealth out of his hands, to draw home that of another climate. In this cafe an ill word may change plenty into want, and by a rafh fentence a free and generous fortune may in a few days be reduced to beggary How little does a giddy prater imagine, that an idle phrafe to the disfavour of a merchant may be as pernicious in the confequence, as the forgery of a deed to bar an inheritance would be to a gentleman? Land stands where it did before a gentleman was calumniated, and the state of a great action is juft as it was before calumny was offered to diminish it, there is time, place and occafion, expected to unravel all that is contrived against thofe characters; but the trader who is ready only for probable demands upon him, can have no armour against the inquifitive, the malicious, and the envious, who are prepared to fill the cry to his difhonour. Fire and fword are flow engines of deftruction, in com. parison of the babbler in the cafe of the merchant. For this reafon I thought it an imitable piece of humanity of a gentleman of my acquaintance, who had great variety of affairs, and used to talk with warmth enough against gentlemen by whom he thought himself ill dealt with; but he would never let any thing be urged against a merchant, with whom he had any difference, except in a court of justice. He used to fay, that to fpeak ill of a merchant, was to begin bis fuit with judgment and execution. One cannot, I think, fay more on this occafion, than to repeat, that the merit of the merchant is above that of all other fubjects; for while he is untouched in his credit, his hand-writing is a more portable coin for the fervice of his fellow-citizens, and his word the gold of Ophir to the country where in he refides. T No 219 SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 10. Vix ea noftra voco OVID. Met. lib. 13. ver. 141. These I scarce call our own. HERE are but few men who are not ambi T tious of diftinguishing themselves in the nation or country where they live, and of growing confiderable among those with whom they converfe. There is a kind of grandeur and refpect, which the meanest and most infignificant part of mankind endeavour to procure in the little circle of their friends and acquaintance. The poorest mechanic, nay, the man who lives upon common alms, gets him his fet of admirers, and delights in that fuperiority which he enjoys over thofe who are in fome refpects beneath him. This ambition, which is natural to the soul of man, might methinks receive a very happy turn; and, if it were rightly directed, contribute as much to a perfon's advantage, as it generally does to his uneafinefs and difquiet. I fhall therefore put together fome thoughts on this fubject, which I have not met with in other writers; and fhall fet them down as they have occurred to me, without being at the pains to connect or methodise them. All fuperiority and pre-eminence that one man can have over another, may be reduced to the notion of quality, which, confidered at large, is either that of fortune, body, or mind. The firft is that which confifts in birth, title, or riches; and is the most foreign to our natures, and what we can the leaft call our own of any of the three kinds of quality. In relation to the body, quality arifes from health, ftrength, or beauty; which are nearer to us, and more a part of ourselves than the former. Quality, as it regards the mind, has its rife from knowledge or virtue; and is that which is more effential to us, and more intimately united with us than either of the other two. The quality of fortune, though a man has lefs reafon to value himself upon it than on that of the body or mind, is however the kind of quality which makes the most shining figure in the eye of the world. As virtue is the moft reasonable and genuine fource of honour, we generally find in titles an intimation of fome particular merit that should recommend men to the high stations which they poffefs. Holiness is afcribed to the pope; majefty to kings; ferenity or mildness of temper to princes; excellence or perfection to ambassadors; grace to archbishops; honour to peers; worship or venerable behaviour to magiftrates; and reverence, which is of the fame import as the former, to the inferior clergy. In the founders of great families, fuch attri butes of honour are generally correfpondent with the virtues of the perfon to whom they are applied; but in the defcendents they are too often the marks rather of grandeur than of merit. The ftamp stamp and denomination ftill continues, but the intrinfic value is frequently loft. The death-bed fhews the emptiness of titles in a true light. A poor difpirited finner lies trembling under the apprehenfions of the state he is entering on; and is afked by a grave attendant how his holiness does? Another hears himself addreffed to under the title of highnefs or excellency, who lies under fuch mean circumstances of mortality, as are the difgrace of human nature. Titles at fuch a time look rather like infults and mockery than respect. The truth of it is, honours are in this world under no regulation; true quality is neglected, virtue is oppreffed, and vice triumphant. The laft day will rectify this diforder, and affign to every one a station fuitable to the dignity of his character; ranks will be then adjusted, and precedency fet right. Methinks we should have an ambition, if not to advance ourselves in another world, at least to preferve our poft in it, and outshine our inferiors in virtue here, that they may not be put above us in a state which is to fettle the diftinction for eternity. Men in fcripture are called "ftrangers and fo"journers upon earth," and life a “pilgrimage." Several heathen, as well as chriftian authors, under the fame kind of metaphor, have reprefented the world as an inn, which was only defigned to furnish us with accommodations in this our paffage. It is therefore very abfurd to think of fetting up our reft before we come to our journey's end, and not rather to take care of the reception we shall there meet, than to fix our thoughts on the little conveniencies and advan tages which we enjoy one above another in the way to it. Épictetus makes ufe of another kind of allufion, which is very beautiful, and wonderfully proper to incline us to be fatisfied with the poft in which Providence has placed us. We are here, fays he, as in a theatre, where every one has a part allotted to him. The great duty which lies upon a man is to act his part in perfection. We may indeed fay, that our part does not fuit us, and that we could at another better. But this, fays the philofopher, is not our business. All that we are concerned in is to excel in the part which is given us. If it be an improper one, the fault is not in us, but in him who has caft our feveral parts, and is the great disposer of the drama. The part that was acted by this philofopher himself was but a very indifferent one, for he lived and died a flave. His motive to contentment in this particular, receives a very great enforcement from the above-mentioned confideration, if we remember that our parts in the other world will be new caft, and that mankind will be there ranged in different ftations of fuperiority and pre-eminence, in proportion as they have here excelled one another in virtue, and performed in their feveral pofts of life the duties which belong to them. There are many beautiful paffages in the little apocryphal book, entitled, "The Wifdom of * Solomon," to fet forth the vanity of honour, and the like temporal bleffings which are in fo great repute among men, and to comfort thofe who have not the poffeffion of them. It represents in very warm and noble terms this advancement of a good man in the other warld, and the greas furprife which it will produce among thofe who are his fuperiors in this. Then shall the ' righteous man ftand in great boldness before 'the face of fuch as have afflicted him, and ⚫ made no account of his labours. When they fee it, they fhall be troubled with terrible fear, and fhall be amazed at the ftrangeness of his 'falvation, fo far beyond all that they looked for. And they repenting and groaning for an'guish of spirit, fhall fay within themselves; this was he whom we had fome time in derifion, and a proverb of reproach. We fools account'ed his life madness, and his end to be without 'honour. How is he numbered among the children of God, and his lot is among the 'faints!' If the reader would fee the description of a life that is paffed away in vanity, and among the fhadows of pomp and greatness, he may fee it very finely drawn in the fame place. In the mean time, fince it is neceffary in the prefent constitution of things, that order and distinction fhould be kept in the world, we should be happy, if those who enjoy the upper ftations in it, would endeavour to furpafs others in virtue, as much as in rank, and by their humanity and condefcenfion make their fuperiority easy and acceptable to those who are beneath them; and if, on the contrary, thofe who are in meaner pofts of life, would confider how they may better their condition hereafter, and by a just deference and fubmiffion to their fuperiors, make them happy in those bleffings with which Providence thought fit to diftinguish them. No 220. MONDAY, Nov. 12. Rumorefque ferit varios- Virg. Æn. 13. V. A thousand rumours spreads. SIR, W 228. HY will you apply to my father for my love? I cannot help it if he will give · you my perfon; but I affure you it is not in 'his power, nor even in my own, to give you 'my heart. Dear Sir, do but confider the ill'confequence of fuch a match; you are fifty'five, I twenty-one. You are a man of bufi'nefs, and mightily converfant in arithmetic ' and making calculations; be pleased therefore 'to confider what proportion your fpirits bear 'to mine, and when you have made a just esti mate of the neceffary decay on one fide, and 'the redundance on the other, you will act accordingly. This perhaps is fuch language as you may not expect from a young lady; but my happiness is at stake, and I muft talk plainly. I mortally hate you; and fo, as you and my father agree, you may take me or leave me: but if you will be fo good as never to fee me more, you will for ever oblige, SIR, Your most humble fervant, HENRIETTA,” • Mr. Spectator, of falfe wit, and fuch a variety of humour HERE are fo many artifices and modes • discovers itself among its votaries, that it would be impoffible to exhauft fo fertile a fubject, if you would think fit to refume it. The following inftances may, if you think fit Nn 2 be be added by way of appendix to your difcourfesingham mentioned to a ftupid pretender to on that fubject. poetry, as the project of a Dutch mechanic, viz. a mill to make verfes. This being the moft compendious method of all which have yet been propofed, may deserve the thoughts of our modern virtuofi who are employed in new discoveries for the public good: and it may be worth the while to confider, whether in an ifland where few are content without being thought wits, it will not be a common benefit, that wit as well as labour fhould be made. "I am, Sir, That feat of poetical activity mentioned by 'Horace, of an author who could compofe two hundred verfes while he ftood upon one leg,, has been imitated, as I have heard, by a mo-, dern writer; who priding himself on the hurry of his invention, thought it no fmall addition to his fame to have each piece minuted with, the exact number of hours or days it coft him in the compofition. He could taste no praise until he had acquainted you in how fhort space.cheap. of time he had deferved it; and was not fo <much led to an oftentation of his art, as of his • dispatch. Accipe, fi vis, Accipiam tabulas; detur nobis locus, bora, Here's pen and ink, and time, and place; let's Who can write moft, and fastest, you or I. CREECH. This was the whole of his ambition; and therefore I cannot but think the flights of this rapid author very proper to be oppofed to thofe laborious nothings which you have obferved were the delight of the German wits, and in which they fo happily got rid of fuch a tedious quantity of their time. I have known a gentleman of another turn of humour, who, defpifing the name of an author, never printed his works, but contradicted his talent, and by the help of a very fine diamond which he wore on his little finger, was a confiderable poet upon glass. He had a very good epigrammatic wit; and there was not a parlour or tavern-window where he vifited or dined for fome years, which did not receive fome sketches or memorials of it. It was his misfortune at laft to lose his genius and his ring to a fharper at play, and he has not attempted to make a verse fince. • Mr. Spectator, I Your humble fervant, &c. Qften dine at a gentleman's houfe, where · there are two young ladies, in themselves very agreeable, but very cold in their behaviour, because they understand me for a person that is to break my mind, as the phrafe is, very fud<denly to one of them. But I take this way to 'acquaint them, that I am not in love with ei, ther of them, in hopes they will ufe me with Your humble fervant. Ama young gentleman, and take it for a piece of good-breeding to pull off my hat when I fee any thing peculiarly charming in any woman, whether I know her or not. I 'take care that there is nothing ludicrous or arch in my manner, as if I were to betray a woman into a falutation by way of jeft or hu 'mour; and except I am acquainted with her, 'I find the ever takes it for a rule, that she is to look upon this civility and homage I pay to her 'fuppofed merit, as an impertinence or forwardnefs which he is to obferve and neglect. I with, Sir, you would fettle the business of falu'tation; and please to inform me how I fhall refift the fudden impulfe I have to be civil to what gives an idea of merit; or tell these creatures how to behave themselves in return to the efteem I have for them. My affairs are fuch, that your decifion will be a favour to me, if it be only to fave the unneceffary expence of wear But of all contractions or expedients for wit, I admire that of an ingenious projector whofe book I have feen. This virtuofa being a mathematician, has, according to his tafte, thrown the art of poetry into a fhort problem, ⚫ and contrived tables by which any one with⚫ out knowing a word of grammar or sense, may, to his great comfort, be able to compofe, or ra-ing out my hat fo faft as I do at prefent. I am. ther to erect Latin verfes. His tables are a kind of poetical logarithms, which being divided into feveral fquares, and all infcribed with fo many incoherent words, appear to the eye fomewhat like a fortune-telling fcreen. What a joy muft it be to the unlearned operator to find that these words being carefully collected and writ down in order according to the problem, start of themfelves into hexameter and pentameter verfes? A friend of mine, who is a ftudent in aftrology, meeting with this book, performed the operation, by the rules there fet down; he fhewed his verfes to the next of his acquaintance, who happened to understand Latin; and being informed they defcribed a tempeft of wind, very luckily prefixed them, together with a translation, to an almanac he was just then printing, and was fuppofed to have foretold the last great form. I think the only improvement beyond this, • would be that which the late duke of Buck. P. S. Sir, • Your's, 'D. T.' There are fome that do know me, and will not bow to me.' T |