among the poor, and among those who could not go to the price of a beauty. Several of these married the agreeables, without paying a farthing for them, unless somebody chanced to think it worth his while to bid for them, in which case the best bidder was always the purchaser. But now you must know, Spec., it happened in Persia, as it does in our own country, that there were as many ugly women as beauties or agreeables; so that by consequence, after the magistrates had put off a great many, there was still a great many that stuck upon their hands. In order therefore to clear the market, the money which the beauties had sold for was disposed of among the ugly; so that a poor man, who could not afford to have a beauty for his wife, was forced to take up with a fortune; the greatest portion being always given to the most deformed. To this the author adds, that every poor man was forced to live kindly with his wife, or, in case he repented of his bargain, to return her portion with her to the next public sale. pian. I would suppose all the unmarried women in London and Westminster brought to market in sacks, with their respective prices on each sack. The first sack that is sold is marked with five thousand pound. Upon the opening of it, I find it filled with an admirable housewife, of an agreeable countenance. The purchaser, upon hearing her good qualities, pays down her price very cheerfully. The second I would open should be a five hundred pound sack. The lady in it, to our surprise, has the face and person of a toast. As we are wondering how she came to be set at so low a price, we hear that she would have been valued at ten thousand pound, but that the public had made those abatements for her being a scold. I would afterward find some beautiful, modest, and discreet women, that should be the top of the market; and perhaps discover half a dozen romps tied up together in the same sack, at one hundred pound a head. The prude and the coquette should be valued at the same price, though the first should go off the better of the two. I fancy "What I would recommend to thee on this occa- thou wouldst like such a vision, had I time to finish sion is, to establish such an imaginary fair in Great it; because, to talk in thy own way, there is a moral Britain: thou couldst make it very pleasant by in it. Whatever thou mayest think of it, pr'ythee matching women of quality with cobblers and car- do not make any of thy queer apologies fu: this letmen, or describing titles and garters leading off in ter, as thou didst for my last. The women love a great ceremony shopkeepers' and farmers' daugh- gay lively fellow, and are never angry at the railters. Though, to tell thee the truth, I am con-leries of one who is their known admirer. I am foundedly afraid, that as the love of money prevails always bitter upon them, but well with them. in our island more than it did in Persia, we should Thine, find that some of our greatest men would choose out "HONEYCOMB." the portions, and rival one another for the richest piece of deformity; and that, on the contrary, the toasts and belles would be bought up by extravagant heirs, gamesters, and spendthrifts. Thou couldst make very pretty reflections upon this occasion in honour of the Persian politicians, who took care, by such marriages, to beautify the upper part of the species, and to make the greatest persons in the government the most graceful. But this I shall leave to thy judicious pen. 0. 66 No. 512.1 FRIDAY, OCTOBER 17, 1712. Mixing together profit and delight THERE is nothing which we receive with so much reluctance as advice. We look upon the man who gives it us as offering an affront to our understanding, and treating us like children or idiots. We "I have another story to tell thee, which I like- consider the instruction as an implicit censure, and wise met with in a book. It seems the general of the zeal which any one shows for our good on such the Tartars, after having laid siege to a strong town an occasion as a piece of presumption or impertiin China, and taken it by storm, would get to sale nence. The truth of it is, the person who pretends all the women that were found in it. Accordingly to advise, does, in that particular, exercise a supe he put each of them into a sack, and, after having riority over us, and can have no other reason for it, thoroughly considered the value of the woman who but that, in comparing us with himself, he thinks us was enclosed, marked the price that was demanded defective either in our conduct or our understandfor her upon the sack. There was a great confluence ing. For these reasons, there is nothing so difficult of chapmen, that resorted from every part, with a as the art of making advice agreeable; and indeed design to purchase, which they were to do 'unsight all the writers, both ancient and modern, have disunseen.' The book mentions a merchant in parti- tinguished themselves among one another, accordcular, who observed one of the sacks to be marked ing to the perfection at which they have arrived in pretty high, bargained for it, and carried it off with this art. How many devices have been made use of, him to his house. As he was resting with it upon a to render this bitter portion palatable! Some conhalfway bridge, he was resolved to take a survey of vey their instructions to us in the best chosen his purchase: upon opening the sack, a little old words, others in the most harmonious numbers; woman popped her head out of it; at which the ad- some in points of wit, and others in short proverbs. venturer was in so great a rage, that he was going But, among all the different ways of giving counto shoot her out into the river. The old lady, how-sel, I think the finest, and that which pleases the ever, begged him first of all to hear her story, by which he learned that she was sister to a great mandarin, who would infallibly make the fortune of his brother-in-law as soon as he should know to whose lot she fell. Upon which the merchant again tied her up in his sack, and carried her to his house, where she proved an excellent wife, and procured him all the riches from her brother that she had promised him, "I fancy, if I was disposed to dream a second time, I could make a tolerable vision upon this most universally, is fable, in whatsoever shape it appears. If we consider this way of instructing or giving advice, it excels all others, because it is the least shocking, and the least subject to those excep tions which I have before mentioned. This will appear to us, if we reflect, in the first place, that upon the reading of a fable, we are made to believe we advise ourselves. We peruse the author for the sake of the story, and consider the precepts rather as our own conclusions than his instructions. The moral insinuates itself imperceptibly; we are taught by surprise, and become wiser and better unawares. In short, by this method, a man is so far overreached as to think he is directing himself, while he is following the dictates of another, and consequently is not sensible of that which is the most unpleasing circumstance in advice. to Sultan Mahmoud! Whilst he reigns over us, we shall never want ruined villages.'' The story says the sultan was so touched with the fable, that he rebuilt the towns and villages which had been destroyed, and from that time forward consulted the good of his people. In the next place, if we look into human nature, we shall find that the mind is never so much pleased, as when she exerts herself in any action that gives her an idea of her own perfections and abilities. This natural pride and ambition of the soul is very much gratified in the reading of a fable; for, in writings of this kind, the reader comes in for half of the performance; everything appears to him like a discovery of his own; he is busied all the while in applying characters and circumstances, and is in this respect both a reader and a composer. It is no wonder, therefore, that on such occasions, when the mind is thus pleased with itself, and amused with its own discoveries, that it is highly delighted with No. 513.] SATURDAY, OCTOBER 18, 1712. the writing which is the occasion of it. For this reason the Absalom and Achitophel was one of the most popular poems that ever appeared in English. The poetry is indeed very fine: but had it been much finer, it would not have so much pleased, without a plan which gave the reader an opportunity of exerting his own talents. To fill up my paper, I shall add a most ridiculous piece of natural magic, which was taught by no less a philosopher than Democritus, namely, that if the blood of certain birds, which he mentioned, were mixed together, it would produce a serpent of such a wonderful virtue, that whoever did eat it should be skilled in the language of birds, and understand every thing they said to one another. Whether the dervise above mentioned might not have eaten such a serpent, I shall leave to the determination of the learned.-O. * -Afflata est numine quando Jam propiore Dei.-VIRG. Æn. vi. 50. When all the god came rushing on her soul.-DRYDEN. THE following letter comes to me from that excellent man in holy orders, whom I have mentioned more than once as one of that society, who assists This oblique manner of giving advice is so inof-me in my speculations. It is a thought in sickness, fensive, that, if we look into ancient histories, we and of a very serious nature, for which reason I find the wise men of old very often chose to give give it a place in the paper of this day :— counsel to their kings in fables. To omit many which will occur to every one's memory, there is a pretty instance of this nature in a Turkish tale, which I do not like the worse for that little oriental extravagance which is mixed with it. "SIR, "The indisposition which has long hung upon me is at last grown to such a head that it must quickly make an end of me or of itself. You may imagine, that whilst I am in this bad state of health, there are none of your works which I read with greater pleasure than your Saturday's papers. I should be very glad if I could furnish you with any hints for that day's entertainment. Were I able to dress up several thoughts of a serious nature, which have made great impressions on my mind during a long fit of sickness, they might not be an improper entertainment for that occasion. We are told that the Sultan Mahmoud, by his perpetual wars abroad and his tyranny at home, had filled his dominions with ruin and desolation, and half unpeopled the Persian empire. The vizier to this great sultan (whether a humorist or an enthusiast, we are not informed) pretended to have learned of a certain dervise to understand the language of birds, so that there was not a bird that could open his mouth but the vizier knew what it was he said. As he was one evening with the emperor, in their "Among all the reflections which usually rise in return from hunting, they saw a couple of owls upon the mind of a sick man, who has time and inclinaa tree that grew near an old wall out of a heap of tion to consider his approaching end, there is none rubbish. "I would fain know," says the sultan, more natural than that of his going to appear naked "what those two owls are saying to one another; and unbodied before Him who made him. When a listen to their discourse, and give me an account of man considers, that, as soon as the vital union is it." The vizier approached the tree, pretending to dissolved, he shall see that Supreme Being whom he be very attentive to the two owls. Upon his return to the sultan, “Sir," says he, "I have heard part of works, or, to speak more philosophically, when, by now contemplates at a distance, and only in his their conversation, but dare not tell you what it is." some faculty in the soul, he shall apprehend the DiThe sultan would not be satisfied with such an vine Being, and be more sensible of his presence answer, but forced him to repeat word for word every than we are now of the presence of any object thing the owls had said. "You must know, then," which the eye beholds, a man must be lost in caresaid the vizier," that one of these owls has a son, lessness and stupidity, who is not alarmed at such a and the other a daughter, between whom they are thought. Dr. Sherlock, in his excellent treatise now upon a treaty of marriage. The father of the upon Death, has represented, in very strong and son said to the father of the daughter, in my hear- lively colours, the state of the soul in its first sepaing, Brother, I consent to this marriage, provided ration from the body, with regard to that invisible you will settle upon your daughter fifty ruined vil-world which every where surrounds us, though we lages for her portion. To which the father of the daughter replied, Instead of fifty, I will give her five hundred, if you please. God grant a long life A memorable satire written by Dryden against the faction which, by Lord Shaftesbury's incitement, set the Duke of Monmouth at their head. Of this poem, in which personal satire is applied to the support of public principles, the sale was so large, that it is said not to have been equalled, but by Sacheverell's trial. are not able to discover it through this grosser world of matter, which is accommodated to our senses in this life. His words are as follow: "That death, which is our leaving this world, is nothing else but our putting off these bodies, teaches us that it is only our union to these bodies which intercepts the sight of the other world. The other world is not at such a distance from us as we may imagine: the throne of God indeed is at a great remove from this earth, above the third heavens, where he displays his glory to those blessed spirits which encompass his throne; but as soon as we step out of these bodies, we step into the other world, which is not so properly another world (for there is the same heaven and earth still) as a new state of life. To live in these bodies is to live in this world; to live out of them is to remove into the next: for while our souls are confined to these bodies, and can look only through these material casements, nothing but what is material can affect us; nay, nothing but what is so gross that it can reflect light, and convey the shapes and colours of things with it to the eye so that, though within this visible world there be a more glorious scene of things than what appears to us, we perceive nothing at all of it; for this veil of flesh parts the visible and invisible world: but when we put off these bodies there are new and surprising wonders present themselves to our view; when these material spectacles are taken off, the soul with its own naked eye sees what was invisible before; and then we are in the other world, when we can see it and converse with it. Thus St. Paul tells us, that "when we are at home in the body, we are absent from the Lord; but when we are absent from the body, we are present with the Lord:" 2 Cor. v. 6. 8. And methinks this is enough to cure us of our fondness for these bodies, unless we think it more desirable to be confined to a prison, and look through a grate all our lives, which gives us but a very narrow prospect, and that none of the best neither, than to be set at liberty to view all the glories of the world. What would we give now for the least glimpse of that invisible world, which the first step we take out of these bodies will present us with? There are such things "as eye hath not seen nor ear heard, neither hath it entered into the heart of man to conceive." Death opens our eyes, enlarges our prospect, presents us with a new and more glorious world, which we can never see while we are shut up in flesh; which should make us as willing to part with this veil, as to take the film off of our eyes, which hinders our sight.' "As a thinking man cannot but be very much affected with the idea of his appearing in the presence of that Being whom none can see and live,' he must be much more affected when he considers that this Being whom he appears before will examine all the actions of his past life, and reward and punish him accordingly. I must confess that I think there is no scheme of religion, besides that of Christianity, which can possibly support the most virtuous person under this thought. Let a man's innocence be what it will, let his virtues rise to the highest pitch of perfection attainable in this life, there will be still in him so many secret sins, so many human frailties, so many offences of ignorance, passion, and prejudice, so many unguarded words and thoughts, and, in short, so many defects in his best actions, that, without the advantages of such an expiation and atonement as Christianity has revealed to us, it is impossible that he should be cleared before his Sovereign Judge, or that he should be able to stand in his sight. Our holy religion suggests to us the only means whereby our guilt may be taken away, and our imperfect obedience accepted. "It is this series of thought that I have endea voured to express in the following hymn, which I have composed during this my sickness: When, rising from the bed of death, II If yet, while pardon may be found, III. When thou, O Lord, shalt stand disclos'd And sit in judgment on my soul, IV. But thou hast told the troubled mind, V. Then see the sorrows of my heart, And hear my Saviour's dying groans, VI. For never shall my soul despair Who knows thine only Son has died "There is a noble hymn in French, which Monsieur Bayle has celebrated for a very fine one, and which the famous author of the Art of Speaking calls an admirable one, that turns upon a thought of the same nature. If I could have done it justice in English, I would have sent it you translated; it was written by Monsieur des Barreux, who had been one of the greatest wits and libertines in France, but in his last years was as remarkable a penitent. Grand Dieu, tes jugemens sont remplis d'equite Et ta clemence meme attend que je perisse. "Sir, yours," &c. No. 514.] MONDAY, OCTOBER 20, 1912. -Me Parnassi deserta per ardua dulcis But the commanding Muse my chariot guides, I 'I CAME home a little later than usual the other night; and, not finding myself inclined to sleep, I took up Virgil to divert me until I should be more disposed to rest. He is the author whom I always choose on such occasions; no one writing in so divine, so harmonious, nor so equal a strain, which leaves the mind composed and softened into an agreeable melancholy: the temper in which, of all ethers, I choose to close the day. The passages I turned to were those beautiful raptures in his Georgics, where he professes himself entirely given up to the Muses, and smit with the love of poetry, passionately wishing to be transported to the cool shades and retirements of the mountain Hæmus. I closed the book and went to bed. What I had just before been reading made so strong an impression on my mind, that faney seemed almost to fulfil to me the wish of Virgil, in presenting to me the following vision: "Methought I was on a sudden placed in the plains of Boeotia, where at the end of the horizon I saw the mountain Parnassus rising before me. The prospect was of so large an extent, that I had long wandered about to find a path which should directly lead me to it, had I not seen at some distance a grove of trees, which, in a plain that had nothing else remarkable enough in it to fix my sight, immediately determined me to go thither. When I arrived at it, I found it parted out into a great number of walks and alleys, which often widened into beautiful openings, as circles or ovals, set round with yews and cypresses, with niches, grottos, and caves, placed on the sides, encompassed with ivy. There was no sound to be heard in the whole place, but only that of a gentle breeze passing over the leaves of the forest; everything beside was buried in a profound silence. I was captivated with the beauty and retirement of the place, and never so much, before that hour, was pleased with the enjoyment of myself. I indulged the humour, and suffered myself to wander without choice or design. At length, at the end of a range of trees, I saw three figures seated on a bank of moss, with a silent brook creeping at their feet. I adored them as the tutelary divinities of the place, and stood still to take a particular view of each of them. The middlemost, whose name was Solitude, sat with her arms across each other, and seemed rather pensive, and wholly taken up with her own thoughts, than any ways grieved or displeased. The only compaans which she admitted into that retirement were, the goddess Silence, who sat on her right hand with ber finger on her mouth, and on her left Contemplation, with her eyes fixed upon the heavens. Beore her lay a celestial globe, with several schemes of mathematical theorems. She prevented my speech with the greatest affability in the world. Fear not,' said she, 'I know your request before you speak it, you would be led to the mountain of the Muses; the only way to it lies through this place, and no one is so often employed in conducting persons thither as myself.' When she had thus spoken, she rose from her seat, and I immediately placed myself under her direction; but whilst I passed through the grove I could not help inquiring of her who were the persons admitted into that sweet retirement. Surely,' said I, there can nothing enter here but virtue and virtuous thoughts; the whole wood seems designed for the reception and reward of such persons as have spent their lives according to the dictates of their conscience, and the commands of the gods.' You imagine right,' said she: assure yourself this place was at first designed for no other: such it continued to be in the reign of Saturn, when none entered here but holy priests, deliverers of their country from oppression and tyranny, who reposed themselves here after their labours, and those whom the study and love of wisdom had fitted for divine conversation. But now it is become no less dangerous than it was before de "There were two paths, which led up by different ways to the summit of the mountain: the one was guarded by the genius which presides over the mo ment of our births. He had it in charge to examine the several pretensions of those who desired to pass that way, but to admit none excepting those only on whom Melpomene had looked with a propitious eye at the hour of their nativity. The other way was guarded by diligence, to whom many of those persons applied who had met with a denial the other way; but he was so tedious in granting their request, and indeed after admittance the way was so very intricate and laborious, that many, after they had made some progress, chose rather to return back than proceed, and very few persisted so long as to arrive at the end they proposed. Besides these two paths, which at length severally led to the top of the mountain, there was a third made up of these two, which a little after the entrance joined in one. This carried those happy few, whose good fortune it was to find it, directly to the throne of Apollo. I do not know whether I should even now have had the resolution to have demanded entrance at either of these doors, had I not seen a peasant-like man (followed by a numerous and lovely train of youth of both sexes) insist upon entrance for all whom he led up. He put me in mind of the country-clown who is painted in the map for leading Prince Eugene over the Alps. He had a bundle of papers in his hand; and, producing several, which he said were given to him by hands which he knew Apollo would allow as passes; among which, methought I saw some of my own writing; the whole assembly was admitted, and gave by their presence a new beauty most of all, Museus had the greatest audience about him. I was at too great a distance to hear what he said, or discover the faces of his hearers; only I thought I now perceived Virgil, who had joined them, and stood in a posture full of admiration at the harmony of his words. "Lastly, at the very brink of the hill, I saw Boccalini sending dispatches to the world below of what happened upon Parnassus; but I perceived he did it without leave of the Muses, and by stealth, and was unwilling to have them revised by Apollo. I could now, from this height and serene sky, behold the infinite cares and anxieties with which mortals below sought out their way through the maze of life. I saw the path of Virtue lie straight before them, whilst Interest, or some malicious demon, still hur ried them out of the way. I was at once touched with pleasure at my own happiness, and compassion at the sight of their inextricable errors. Here the two contending passions rose so high, that they were inconsistent with the sweet repose I enjoyed; and, awaking with a sudden start, the only consolation I could admit of for my loss, was the hopes that this relation of my dream will not displease you."-T. No. 515.] TUESDAY, OCTOBER 21, 1712. am ashamed and grieved, that I neglected his advice, who gave me the character of these creatures. "MR. SPECTATOR, and pleasure to these happy mansions. I found the man did not pretend to enter himself, but served as a kind of forester in the lawns, to direct passengers, who, by their own merit, or instructions he procured for them, had virtue enough to travel that way. I looked very attentively upon this kind homely benefactor; and, forgive me, Mr. Spectator, if I own to you I took him for yourself. We were no sooner entered, but we were sprinkled three times with the water of the fountain Aganippe, which had power to deliver us from all harms, but only envy, which reached even to the end of our journey. We had not proceeded far in the middle path, when we arrived at the summit of the hill, where there immediately appeared to us two figures, which extremely engaged my attention: the one was a young nymph in the prime of her youth and beauty; she had wings on her shoulders and feet, and was able to transport herself to the most distant regions in the smallest space of time. She was continually varying her dress, sometimes into the most natural and becoming habits in the world, and at others into the most wild and freakish garb that can be imagined. There stood by her a man fullaged and of great gravity, who corrected her inconsistencies by showing them in this mirror, and still flung her affected and unbecoming ornaments down the mountain, which fell in the plain below, and were gathered up and wore † with great satisfaction by those that inhabited it. The name of the I nymph was Fancy, the daughter of Liberty, the most beautiful of all the mountain nymphs: the other was Judgment, the offspring of Time, and the only child he acknowledged to be his. A youth, "I AM obliged to you for printing the account I who sat upon a throne just between them, was their lately sent you of a coquette who disturbed a sober genuine offspring: his name was Wit, and his seat congregation in the city of London. That intelliwas composed of the works of the most celebrated gence ended at her taking coach, and bidding the authors. I could not but see with a secret joy, that, driver go where he knew. I could not leave her so, though the Greeks and Romans made the majority, but dogged her, as hard as she drove, to St. Paul's yet our own countrymen were the next both in numchurchyard, where there was a stop of coaches, atber and dignity. I was now at liberty to take a full tending company coming out of the cathedral. This prospect of that delightful region. I was inspired gave me an opportunity to hold up a crown to ber with new vigour and life, and saw everything in coachman, who gave me the signal that he would nobler and more pleasing view than before: I hurry on, and make no haste, as you know the way breathed a purer ether in a sky which was a conti- is when they favour a chase. By his many kind nued azure, gilded with perpetual sunshine. The blunders, driving against other coaches, and slipping two summits of the mountain rose on each side, and of his tackle, I could keep up with him, and lodged formed in the midst a most delicious vale, the habi- my fine lady in the parish of St. James's. As I tation of the Muses, and of such as had composed guessed, when I first saw her at church, her busiworks worthy of immortality. Apollo was seatedness is to win hearts, and throw them away, regardupon a throne of gold, and for a canopy an aged ing nothing but the triumph. I have had the haplaurel spread its boughs and its shade over his head. piness, by tracing her through all with whom I heard His bow and quiver lay at his feet. He held his she was acquainted, to find one who was intimate harp in his hand, whilst the Muses round about with a friend of mine, and to be introduced to her him celebrated with hymns his victory over the notice. I have made so good use of my time, as to serpent Python, and sometimes sang in softer notes procure from that intimate of hers one of her letters, the loves of Leucothoe and Daphnis. Homer, Vir-which she writ to her when in the country. This gil, and Milton, were seated the next to them. Behind were a great number of others; among whom I was surprised to see some in the habit of Laplanders, who, notwithstanding the uncouthness of their dress, had lately obtained a place upon the mountain. I saw Pindar walking all alone, no one daring to accost him, until Cowley joined himself to him; but growing weary of one who almost walked him out of breath, he left him for Horace and Anacreon, with whom he seemed infinitely delighted. epistle of her own may serve to alarm the world against her in ordinary life, as mine, I hope, did those who shall behold her at church. The letter was written last winter to the lady who gave it me; and I doubt not but you will find it the soul of a happy self-loving dame, that takes all the admiration she can meet with, and returns none of it in love to her admirers. "DEAR JENNY, of in marriage so much to your approbation, as you "I am glad to find you are likely to be disposed shall laugh at your spouse's airs. I beg of you not You say you are afraid only of me, for I to fear it, for I am too nice a discerner to laugh at any, but whom most other people think fine fellows; "A little further I saw another group of figures: I made up to them, and found it was Socrates dic-tell me. tating to Xenophon, and the spirit of Plato; but "Worn:" pret. for participle. "His. |