duction of Arsinoe, and did it to the best advantage fewer, who against common rules and fashions, dare so great a novelty would allow. It is not proper to obey its dictates. As to salutations, which I was trouble you with particulars of the just complaints about to talk of, I observe, as I stroll about town, we all of us have to make; but so it is, that without there are great enormities committed with regard regard to our obliging pains, we are all equally set to this particular.-You shall sometimes see a man aside in the present opera. Our application, there- begin the offer of a salutation, and observe a forfore, to you is only to insert this letter in your bidding air, or escaping eye, in the person he is paper, that the town may know we have all three going to salute, and stop short in the poll of his joined together to make entertainments of music neck. This in the person who believed he could do for the future at Mr. Clayton's house in York-it with a good grace, and was refused the opportubuildings. What we promise ourselves is, to make nity, is justly resented with a coldness the whole a subscription of two guineas, for eight times; and ensuing season. Your great beauties, people in that the entertainment, with the names of the au- much favour, or by any means or for any purpose thors of the poetry, may be printed, to be sold in overflattered, are apt to practise this, which one the house, with an account of the several authors of may call the preventing aspect, and throw their the vocal as well as the instrumental music for attention another way, lest they should confer a each night; the moncy to be paid at the receipt of bow or a courtesy upon a person who might not the tickets, at Mr. Charles Lillie's. It will, we appear to deserve that dignity. Others you shall hope, Sir, be easily allowed, that we are capable of find so obsequious, and so very courteous, as there undertaking to exhibit, by our joint force and dif- is no escaping their favours of this kind. Of this ferent qualifications, all that can be done in music; sort may be a man who is in the fifth or sixth but lest you should think so dry a thing as an degree of favour with a minister. This good creaaccount of our proposal should be a matter un-ture is resolved to show the world, that great worthy of your paper, which generally contains honours cannot at all change his manners; he is something of public use, give us leave to say, that the same civil person he ever was; he will venture favouring our design is no less than reviving an art his neck to bow out of a coach in full speed, at which runs to ruin by the utmost barbarism under once to show he is full of business, and yet not so an affectation of knowledge. We aim at establish- taken up as to forget his old friend. With a man ing some settled notion of what is music, at recover-who is not so well formed for courtship and elegant ing from neglect and want very many families who behaviour, such a gentleman as this seldom firds depend upon it, at making all foreigners who pre-his account in the return of his compliments; but tend to succeed in England to learn the language he will still go on, for he is in his own way, and of it as we ourselves have done, and not to be so in- must not omit; let the neglect fall on your side, or solent as to expect a whole nation, a refined and where it will, his business is still to be well-bred to learned nation, should submit to learn theirs. In a the end. I think I have read, in one of our Engword, Mr. Spectator, with all deference and humi-lish comedies, a description of a fellow that affected lity, we hope to behave ourselves in this undertaking in such a manner, that all Englishmen who have any skill in music may be furthered in it for their profit or diversion by what new things we shall produce; never pretending to surpass others, or asserting that any thing which is a science is not attainable by all men of all nations who have proper genius for it. We say, Sir, what we hope for, it is not expected will arrive to us by contemning others, but through the utmost diligence recommending ourselves. We are, Sir, What is becoming is honourable, and what is honourable is becoming. THERE are some things which cannot come under certain rules, but which one would think could not need them. Of this kind are outward civilities and salutations. These one would imagine might be regulated by every man's common sense, without the help of an instructor: but that which we call common sense suffers under that word; for it some times implies no more than that faculty which is common to all men, but sometimes signifies right reason, and what all men should consent to. In this latter acceptation of the phrase, it is no great wonder people err so much against it, since it is not every one who is possessed of it, and there are knowing every body, and for want of judgment in time and place, would bow and smile in the face of a judge sitting in the court, would sit in an opposite gallery and smile in the minister's face as he came up into the pulpit, and nod as if he alluded to some familiarities between them in another place. But now I happen to speak of salutation at church, 1 must take notice that several of my correspondents have importuned me to consider that subject, and settle the point of decorum in that particular. I do not pretend to be the best courtier in the world, but I have often on public occasions thought it a very great absurdity in the company (during the royal presence) to exchange salutations from all parts of the room, when certainly common sense should suggest, that all regards at that time should be engaged, and cannot be diverted to any other object, without disrespect to the sovereign. But as to the complaint of my correspondents, it is not to be imagined what offence some of them take at the custom of saluting in places of worship. I have a very angry letter from a lady, who tells me of one of her acquaintance, who, out of mere pride and a pretence to be rude, takes upon her to return no civilities done to her in the time of divine service, and is the most religious woman, for no other reason but to appear a woman of the best quality in the church. This absurd custom had better be abolished than retained; if it were but to prevent evils of no higher a nature than this is; but I am informed of objections much more considerable. A dissenter of rank and distinction was lately prevailed upon by a friend of his to come to one of the greatest congregations of the church of England about town. After the service was over, he declared he was very well satisfied with the little ceremony which was used towards God Almighty; but at the the space of ten or fifteen years surrounded by a same time he feared he should not be able to go new set of people, whose manners are as natural to through those required towards one another: as to them as his delights, method of thinking, and mode this point he was in a state of despair, and feared of living, were formerly to him and his friends. he was not well-bred enough to be a convert. There But the mischief is, he looks upon the same kind have been many scandals of this kind given to our of error which he himself was guilty of with an eye Protestant dissenters, from the outward pomp and of scorn, and with that sort of ill-will which men respect we take to ourselves in our religious assem-entertain against each other for different opinions. blies. A Quaker who came one day into a church, Thus a crazy constitution and an uneasy mind is fixed his eye upon an old lady with a carpet larger than that from the pulpit before her expecting when she would hold forth. An anabaptist who designs to come over himself, and all his family, within a few months, is sensible they want breeding enough for our congregations, and has sent his two eldest daughters to learn to dance, that they may not misbehave themselves at church. It is worth considering whether, in regard to awkward people with scrupulous consciences, a good Christian of the best air in the world ought not rather to deny herself the opportunity of showing so many graces, than keep a bashful proselyte without the pale of the church.-T. No. 260.] FRIDAY, DECEMBER 28, 1711. Singula de nobis anni prædantur euntes.-HOR. 3 Ep. ii. 55. I AM now in the sixty-fifth year of my age, and having been the greater part of my days a man of pleasure, the decay of my faculties is a stagnation of my life But how is it, Sir, that my appetites are increased upon me with the loss of power to gratify them? I write this like a criminal, to warn people to enter upon what reformation they please to make in themselves in their youth, and not expect they shall be capable of it from a fond opinion some have often in their mouths, that if we do not leave our desires, they will leave us. It is far otherwise; I am now as vain in my dress, and as flippant, if I see a pretty woman, as when in my youth I stood upon a bench in the pit to survey the whole circle of beauties. The folly is so extravagant with me, and I went on with so little check of my desires or resignation of them, that I can assure you, I very often, merely to entertain my own thoughts, sit with my spectacles on, writing loveletters to the beauties that have been long since in their graves. This is to warm my heart with the faint memory of delights which were once agreeable to me but how much happier would my life have been now, if I could have looked back on any worthy action done for my country? if I had laid out that which I profused in luxury and wantonness, in acts of generosity or charity? I have lived a bachelor to this day; and instead of a numerous offspring, with which in the regular ways of life I might possibly have delighted myself, I have only to amuse myself with the repetition of old stories and intrigues which no one will believe I ever was concerned in. I do not know whether you have ever treated of it or not; but you cannot fall on a better subject, than that of the art of growing old. In such a lecture you must propose, that no one set his heart upon what is transient; the beauty grows wrinkled while we are yet gazing at her. The witty man sinks into a humourist imperceptibly, for want of reflecting that all things around him are in a flux, and continually changing: thus he is in fretted with vexatious passions for young men's doing foolishly what it is folly to do at all. Dear Sir, this is my present state of mind; I hate those I should laugh at, and envy those I contemn. The time of youth and vigorous manhood, passed the way in which I have disposed of it, is attended with these consequences; but to those who live and pass away life as they ought, all parts of it are equally pleasant; only the memory of good and worthy actions is a feast which must give a quicker relish to the soul than ever it could possibly taste in the highest enjoyments or jollities of youth. As for me, if I sit down in my great chair and begin to ponder, the vagaries of a child are not more ridiculous than the circumstances which are heaped up in my memory; fine gowns, country dances, ends of tunes, interrupted conversations, and midnight quarrels, are what must necessarily compose my soliloquy. I beg of you to print this, that some ladies of my acquaintance, and my years, may be persuaded to wear warm night-caps this cold season; and that my old friend Jack Tawdry may buy him a cane, and not creep with the air of a strut. I must add to all this, that if it were not for one pleasure, which I thought a very mean one until of very late years, I should have no one great satisfaction left; but if I live to the tenth of March 1714, and all my securities are good, I shall be worth fifty thousand pounds. "I am, Sir, "Your most humble Servant, "MR. SPECTATOR, "You will infinitely oblige a distressed lover, if you will insert in your very next paper the following letter to my mistress. You must know, I am not a person apt to despair, but she has got an odd humour of stopping short unaccountably, and as she herself told a confidant of hers, she has cold fits. These fits shall last her a month or six weeks together; and as she falls into them without provocation, so it is to be hoped she will return from them without the merit of new services. But life and love will not admit of such intervals, therefore pray let her be admonished as follows: "I love you, and honour you: therefore pray do not tell me of waiting until decencies, until forms, until humours, are consulted and gratified. If you have that happy constitution as to be indolent for ten weeks together, you should consider that all that while I burn in impatience and fevers; but still you say it will be time enough, though I and you too grow older while we are yet talking. Which do you think the most reasonable, that you should alter a state of indifference for happiness, and that to oblige me: or I live in torment, and that to lay no manner of obligation on you? While I indulge your insensibility I am doing nothing; if you favour my passion, you are bestowing bright desires, gay hopes, generous cares, noble resolu- the good qualities of one to whom we join ourselves tions, and transporting raptures upon, "Madam, "Your most devoted humble Servant." "MR. SPECTATOR, "Here is a gentlewoman lodges in the same house with me, that I never did any injury to in my whole life; and she is always railing at me to those that she knows will tell me of it. Do not you think she is in love with me? or would you have me break my mind yet, or not? "Your Servant, "T. B." for life; they do not make our present state agree. able, but often determine our happiness to all eternity. Where the choice is left to friends, the chief point under consideration is an estate; where the parties choose for themselves, their thoughts turn most upon the person. They have both their rea and pleasures of life to the party whose interests sons. The first would procure many conveniences they espouse; and at the same time may hope that the wealth of their friends will turn to their own credit and advantage. The others are preparing for themselves a perpetual feast. A good person does not only raise but continue love, and breeds a secret pleasure and complacency in the beholder, when the first heats of desire are extinguished. It "MR. SPECTATOR, "I am a footman in a great family, and am in love with the house-maid. We were all at hot-puts the wife or husband in countenance both among cockles last night in the hall these holidays; when I lay down and was blinded, she pulled off her shoe, and hit me with the heel such a rap, as almost broke my head to pieces. Pray, Sir, was this love or spite ?"-T. friends and strangers, and generally fills the family with a healthy and beautiful race of children. I should prefer a woman that is agreeable in my own eye, and not deformed in that of the world, to a celebrated beauty. If you marry one remarkably beautiful, you must have a violent passion for her, No. 261.1 SATURDAY, DECEMBER 29, 1711. or you have not the proper taste for her charms; 'Wedlock's an ill men eagerly embrace. My father, whom I mentioned in my first speculation, and whom I must always name with honour and gratitude, has very frequently talked to me upon the subject of marriage. I was in my younger years engaged partly by his advice, and partly by my own inclinations, in the courtship of a person who had a great deal of beauty, and did not at my first approaches seem to have any aversion to me; but as my natural taciturnity hindered me from showing myself to the best advantage, she by degrees began to look upon me as a very silly fellow, and being resolved to regard merit more than any thing else in the persons who made their applications to her, she married a captain of dragoons who happened to be beating up for recruits in those parts. This unlucky accident has given me an aversion to pretty fellows ever since, and discouraged me from trying my fortune with the fair sex. The observations which I made at this conjuncture, and the repeated advices which I received at that time from the good old man above mentioned, have produced the following essay upon love and marriage. The pleasantest part of a man's life is generally that which passes in courtship, provided his passion be sincere, and the party beloved kind with discretion. Love, desire, hope, all the pleasing emotions of the soul rise in the pursuit. It is easier for an artful man who is not in love, to persuade his mistress he has a passion for her, and to succeed in his pursuits, than for one who loves with the greatest violence. True love has ten thousand griefs, impatiences, and resentments, that render a man unamiable in the eyes of the person whose affection he solicits; besides that it sinks his figure, gives him fears, apprehensions, and poorness of spirit, and often makes him appear ridiculous where he has a mind to recommend himself. Those marriages generally abound most with love and constancy, that are preceded by a long courtship. The passion should strike root, and gather strength before marriage be grafted on it. A long course of hopes and expectations fixes the idea in our minds, and habituates us to a fondness of the person beloved. There is nothing of so great importance to us, as and if you have such a passion for her, it is odds but it would be imbittered with fears and jealousies. Good-nature and evenness of temper will give you an easy companion for life; virtue and good sense an agreeable friend; love and constaney, a good wife or husband. Where we meet one person with all these accomplishments, we find a hundred without any one of them. The world, notwithstandiug, is more intent on trains and equipages, and all the showy parts of life; we love rather to dazzle the multitude, than consult our proper interests; and, as I have elsewhere observed, it is one of the most unaccountable passions of human nature, that we are at greater pains to appear easy and happy to others, than really to make ourselves so. Of all disparities, that in humour makes the most unhappy marriages, yet scarce enters into our thoughts at the contracting of them. Several that are in this respect unequally yoked, and uneasy for life with a person of a particular character, might have been pleased and happy with a person of a contrary one, notwithstanding they are both perhaps equally virtuous and laudable in their kind. Before marriage we cannot be too inquisitive and discerning in the faults of the person beloved, nor after it too dim-sighted and superficial. However perfect and accomplished the person appears to you at a distance, you will find many blemishes and imperfections in her humour, upon a more intimate acquaintance, which you never discovered or perhaps suspected. Here, therefore, discretion and good-nature are to show their strength; the first will hinder your thoughts from dwelling on what is disagreeable, the other will raise in you all the tenderness of compassion and humanity, and by degrees soften those very imperfections into beauties. Marriage enlarges the scene of our happiness and miseries. A marriage of love is pleasant; a marriage of interest easy; and a marriage where both meet, happy. A happy marriage has in it all the pleasures of friendship, all the enjoyments of sense and reason, and indeed all the sweets of life. Nothing is a greater mark of a degenerate and vicious age, than the common ridicule which passes on this state of life. It is, indeed, only happy in those who can look down with scorn and neglect on the impieties of the times, and tread the paths of life to gether in a constant uniform course of virtue.-C. No. 262.] MONDAY, DECEMBER 31, 1711. ADAPTED. My paper flows from no satiric vein, I THINK myself highly obliged to the public for their kind acceptance of a paper which visits them every morning, and has in it none of those seasonings which recommend so many of the writings which are in vogue among us. As, on the one side, my paper has not in it a single word of news, a reflection in politics, nor a stroke of party; so, on the other, there are no fashionable touches of infidelity, no obscene ideas, no satires upon priesthood, marriage, and the like popular topics of ridicule; no private scandal; nor any thing that may tend to the defamation of particular persons, families, or societies. As I have been thus tender of every particular person's reputation, so I have taken more than or dinary care not to give offence to those who appear in the higher figures of life. I would not make myself merry even with a piece of pasteboard that is invested with a public character; for which reason I have never glanced upon the late designed procession of his Holiness and his attendants, notwithstanding it might have afforded matter to many ludicrous speculations. Among those advantages which the public may reap from this paper, it is not the least, that it draws men's minds off from the bitterness of party, and furnishes them with subjects of discourse that may be treated without warmth or passion. This is said to have been the first design of those gentlemen who set on foot the Royal Society; and had then a very good effect, as it turned many of the greatest geniuses of that age to the disquisitions of natural knowledge, who, if and application, might have set their country in a flame. The air-pump, the barometer, the quadrant, and the like inventions, were thrown out to those busy spirits, as tubs and barrels are to a whale, that he may let the ship sail on without disturbance, while he diverts himself with those innocent amusements. There is not one of those above-mentioned sub-they had engaged in politics with the same parts jects that would not sell a very indifferent paper, could I think of gratifying the public by such mean and base methods. But notwithstanding I have rejected every thing that savours of party, every thing that is loose and immoral, and every thing that might create uneasiness in the minds of particular persons, I find that the demand for my papers has increased every month since their first appearance in the world. This does not perhaps reflect so much honour upon myself, as on my readers, who give a much greater attention to discourses of virtue and morality than ever I expected, or indeed could hope. When I broke loose from that great body of writers who have employed their wit and parts in propagating vice and irreligion, I did not question but I should be treated as an odd kind of fellow, that had a mind to appear singular in my way of writing: but the general reception I have found convinces me that the world is not so corrupt as we are apt to imagine; and that if those men of parts who have been employed in vitiating the age had endeavoured to rectify and amend it, they needed not to have sacrificed their good sense and virtue to their fame and reputation. No man is so sunk in vice and ignorance, but there are still some hidden seeds of goodness and knowledge in him; which give him a relish of such reflections and speculations as have an aptness to improve the mind, and make the heart better. I have been so very scrupulous in this particular of not hurting any man's reputation, that I have forborne mentioning even such authors as I could not name with honour. This I must confess to have been a piece of very great self-denial: for as the public relishes nothing better than ridicule which turns upon a writer of any emineuce, so there is nothing which a man that has but a very ordinary talent in ridicule may execute with greater ease. One might raise laughter for a quarter of a year together upon the works of a person who has published but a very few volumes. For which reason I am astonished, that those who have appeared against this paper, have made so very little of it. The criticisms which I have hitherto published, have been made with an intention rather to discover beauties and excellences in the writers of my own time, than to publish any of their faults and imperfections. In the meanwhile, I should take it for a very great favour from some of my underhand detractors, if they would break all measures with me, so far as to give me a pretence for examining their performances with an impartial eye: nor shall I look upon it as any breach of charity to criticize the author so long as I keep clear of the person. In the mean while, until I am provoked to such hostilities, I shall from time to time endeavour to do justice to those who have distinguished themselves in the politer parts of learning, and to point out such beauties in their works as may have escaped the observation of others. I have shown in a former paper, with how much care I have avoided all such thoughts as are loose, obscene, or immoral; and I believe my reader would still think the better of me, if he knew the pains I am at in qualifying what I write after such a manner that nothing may be interpreted as aimed at private persons. For this reason, when I draw any faulty character, I consider all those persons to whom the malice of the world may possibly apply As the first place among our English poets is due it, and take care to dash it with such particular cir- to Milton; and as I have drawn more quotations cumstances as may prevent all such ill-natured ap- out of him than from any other, I shall enter into plications. If I write any thing on a black man, a regular criticism upon his Paradise Lost, which I I run over in my mind all the eminent persons in shall publish every Saturday, until I have given my the nation who are of that complexion: when I thoughts upon that poem. I shall not, however, place an imaginary name at the head of a character, presume to impose upon others my own particular I examine every syllable and letter of it, that it judgment on this author, but only deliver it as my may not bear any resemblance to one that is real. private opinion. Criticism is of a very large extent, I know very well the value which every man sets and every particular master in this art has his faupon his reputation, and how painful it is to be ex-vourite passages in an author which do not equally posed to the mirth and derision of the public, and strike the best judges. It will be sufficient for me, should therefore scorn to divert my reader at the ex-if I discover many beauties or imperfections which pense of any private man. others have not attended to, and I should be very glad to see any of our eminent writers publish the generality of mankind, and growth towards their discoveries on the same subject. In short, I manhood so desirable to all, that resignation to would always be understood to write my papers of decay is too difficult a task in the father; and decriticism in the spirit which Horace has expressed ference, amidst the impulse of gay desires, appears in these two famous lines: unreasonable to the son. There are so few who can grow old with a good grace, and yet fewer who can come slow enough into the world, that a father, were he to be actuated by his desires, and a son, -Si quid novisti rectius istis, If you have made any better remarks of your own, communicate them with candour; if not, make use of these I pre-were he to consult himself only, could neither of sent you with. C. them behave himself as he ought to the other. But when reason interposes against instinct, where it would carry either out of the interests of the other, there arises that happiest intercourse of good offices No. 263.] TUESDAY, JANUARY 1, 1711-12. Gratulor quod eum quem necesse erat diligere, qualiscun-between those dearest relations of human life. The que esset, talem habemus ut libenter quoque diligamus. TREBONIUS apud TULL I am glad that he whom I must have loved from duty, whatever he had been, is such a one as I can love from inclination. "MR. SPECTATOR, father, according to the opportunities which are offered to him, is throwing down blessings on the son, and the son endeavouring to appear the worthy offspring of such a father. It is after this manner that Camillus and his first-born dwell together. Camillus enjoys a pleasing and indolent old age, in "I AM the happy father of a very towardly son, which passion is subdued, and reason exalted. He in whom I do not only see my life, but also my waits the day of his dissolution with a resignation manner of life, renewed. It would be extremely mixed with delight; and the son fears the accession beneficial to society, if you would frequently resume of his father's fortune with diffidence, lest he should subjects which serve to bind these sort of relations not enjoy or become it as well as his predecessor. faster, and endear the ties of blood with those of Add to this, that the father knows he leaves a good-will, protection, observance, indulgence, and friend to the children of his friends, an easy landveneration. I would, methinks, have this done lord to his tenants, and an agreeable companion to after an uncommon method, and do not think any his acquaintance. He believes his son's behaviour one, who is not capable of writing a good play, fit will make him frequently remembered, but never to undertake a work wherein there will necessarily wanted. This commerce is so well cemented, that occur so many secret instincts, and biasses of hu- without the pomp of saying, Son, be a friend to man nature which would pass unobserved by com- such-a-one when I am gone;' Camillus knows, mon eyes. I thank Heaven I have no outrageous being in his favour is direction enough to the grateoffence against my own excellent parents to answer ful youth who is to succeed him, without the admofor; but when I am now and then alone, and look nition of his mentioning it. These gentlemen are back upon my past life, from my earliest infancy to honoured all in their neighbourhood, and the same this time, there are many faults which I committed effect which the court has on the manners of a kingthat did not appear to me, even until I myself be- dom, their characters have on all who live within came a father. I had not until then a notione influence of them. the yearnings of a heart, which a man has when he My son and I are not of fortune to communisees his child do a laudable thing, or the suddente our good actions or intentions to so many as damp which seizes him when he fears he will act these gentlemen do; but I will be bold to say, my something unworthy. It is not to be imagined, son has, by the applause and approbation which what a remorse touched me for a long train of his behaviour towards me has gained him, occachildish negligences of my mother, when I saw my sioned that many an old man besides myself has wile the other day look out of the window, and turn rejoiced. Other men's children follow the example as pale as ashes upon seeing my youngest boy of mine, and I have the inexpressible happiness of sliding upon the ice. These slight intimations will overhearing our neighbours, as we ride by, point to give you to understand, that there are numberless their children, and say, with a voice of joy, There little crimes which children take no notice of while they go.' they are doing, which, upon reflection, when they shall themselves become fathers, they will look upon with the utmost sorrow and contrition, that they did not regard before those whom they offended were to be no more seen. How many thousand things do I remember which would have highly pleased my father, and I omitted for no other reason, but that I thought what he proposed the effect of humour and old age, which I am now convinced had reason and good sense in it. I cannot now go into the parlour to him, and make his heart glad with an account of a matter which was of no consequence, but that I told it, and acted in it. The good man and woman are long since in their graves, who used to sit and plot the welfare of us their children, while, perhaps, we were sometimes laughing at the old folks, at another end of the house. The truth of it is, were we merely to follow nature in these great duties of life, though we have strong instinct towards the performing of them, we should be on both sides very deficient. Age is so unwelcome to "You cannot, Mr. Spectator, pass your time better than in insinuating the delights which those relations, well regarded, bestow upon each other. Ordinary passages are no longer such, but mutual love gives an importance to the most indifferent things, and a merit to actions the most insignificant. When we look round the world, and observe the many misunderstandings which are created by the malice and insinuation of the meanest servants between people thus related, how necessary will it appear that it were inculcated, that men would be upon their guard to support a constancy of affection, and that grounded upon the principles of reason, not the impulses of instinct. "It is from the common prejudices which men receive from their parents, that hatreds are kept alive from one generation to another; and when men act by instinct, hatred will descend when good offices are forgotten. For the degeneracy of human life is such, that our anger is more easily transferred to our children. than our love. Love always gives |