the fan can play without any force or motion but just of the wrist. It is to affectation we owe the pensive attention of Deidamia at a tragedy, the scornful approbation of Dulcimara at a comedy, and the lowly aspect of Lanquicelsa at a sermon. "To tell you the plain truth, I know no pleasure but in being admired, and have yet never failed of attaining the approbation of the man whose regard I had a mind to. You see all the men who make a figure in the world (as wise a look as they are pleased to put upon the matter) are moved by the same vanity as I am. What is there in ambition, but to make other people's wills depend upon yours? This indeed is not to be aimed at by one who has a genius no higher than to think of being a very good housewife in a country gentleman's family. The care of poultry and pigs are great enemies to the countenance: the vacant look of a fine lady is not to be preserved, if she admits any thing to take up her thoughts but her own dear person. But I interrupt you too long from your cares, and myself from my conquests. I am, madam, your most humble servant." Give me leave, Mr. Spectator, to add her friend's answer to this epistle, who is a very discreet ingenious woman." "DEAR GATTY,-I take your raillery in very good part, and am obliged to you for the free air with which you speak of your own gayeties. But this is but a barren superficial pleasure; for, indeed, Gatty, we are made for man; and in serious sadness I must tell you, whether you yourself know it or no, all these gallantries tend to no other end but to be a wife and a mother as fast as you can. I am, madam, your most obedient servant. T. Or all the monstrous passions and opinions which have crept into the world, there is none so wonderful as that those who profess the common name of Christians, should pursue each other with rancour and hatred for difference in their way of following the example of their Saviour. It seems so natural that all who pursue the steps of any leader should form themselves after his manner, that it is impossible to account for effects so different from what we might expect from those who profess themselves followers of the highest pattern VOL. II. 36 of meekness and charity, but by ascribing such effects to the ambition and corruption of those who are so audacious with souls full of fury, to serve at the altars of the God of Peace. The massacres to which the church of Rome has animated the ordinary people, are dreadful instances of the truth of this observation; and whoever reads the history of the Irish rebellion, and the cruelties which ensued thereupon, will be sufficiently convinced to what rage poor ignorants may be worked up by those who profess holiness and become incendiaries, and, under the dispensation of grace, promote evils abhorrent to nature. The subject and catastrophe, which deserve so well to be remarked by the protestant world, will, I doubt not, be considered by the reverend and learned prelate that preaches to-morrow before many of the descendants of those who perished on that lamentable day, in a manner suitable to the occasion, and worthy his own great virtue and eloquence. I shall not dwell upon it any farther, but only transcribe out of a little tract, called the Christian Hero, published in 1701, nowned hero, William III. who rescued that nation from the repetition of the same disasters. His late majesty, of glorious memory, and the most Christian king, are considered at the conclusion of that treatise as heads of the protestant and Romancatholic world in the following manner. what I find there in honour of the re 'There were not ever, before the entrance of the Christian name into the world, men who have maintained a more renowned carriage, than the two great rivals who possess the full fame of the present age, and will be the theme and examination of the future. They are exactly formed by nature for those ends to which heaven seems to have sent them amongst us. Both animated with a restless desire of glory, but pursue it by different means, and with different motives. To one it consists in an extensive undisputed empire over his subjects, to the other in their rational and voluntary obedience. Ones happiness is founded in their want of power, the others in their want of desire to oppose him. The one enjoys the summit of fortune with the luxury of a Persian, the other with the moderation of a Spartan. One is made to oppress, the other to relieve the oppressed. The one is satisfied with the pomp and ostentation of power to prefer and debase his inferiors; the other delighted only with the cause and foundation of it to cherish and protect them. To * Steele, who was never insensible to his own faults and follies, but who never had courage to correct them, is said to have written this little tract, while plunged in all the dissipation of a soldier's life, to serve the purposes of a private manual, and to have published it under the hope that it would compel him to something fortunately for him, it failed of its effect, and served like an imitation of the character he had drawn; unbut to make his errors the more conspicuous one therefore religion is but a convenient disguise, to the other a vigorous motive of action. For, without such ties of real and solid honour, there is no way of forming a monarch, but after the Machiavelian scheme, by which a prince must seem to have all virtues, but really be master of none; he is to be liberal, merciful, and just, only as they serve his interests; while, with the noble art of hypocrisy, empire would be to be extended, and new conquests be made by new devices, by which prompt address his creatures might insensibly give law in the business of life, by leading men in the entertainment of it. template on Him "whose yoke is easy and whose burden is light." With a tyranny begun on his own subjects, and indignation that others draw their breath independent of his frown or smile, why should he not proceed to the seizure of the world? And if nothing but the thirst of sway were the motive of his actions, why should treatises be other than mere words, or solemn national compacts be any thing but a halt in the march of that army, who are never to lay down their arms until all men are reduced to the necessity of hanging their lives on his wayward will; who might supinely, and at leisure, expe his own sins by other men's sufferings wh he daily meditates new slaughter and com quests? Thus, when words and show are apt to pass for the substantial things they are only to express, there would need no more to 'For mere man, when giddy with enslave a country but to adorn a court; for bridled power, is an insatiate idol, not to while every man's vanity makes him be- be appeased with myriads offered to his lieve himself capable of becoming luxury, pride, which may be puffed up by the adeenjoyments are a ready bait for sufferings, lation of a base and prostrate world into an and the hopes of preferment invitations to opinion that he is something more than servitude; which slavery would be coloured human, by being something less: and, alas, with all the agreements, as they call it, what is there that mortal man will not be imaginable. The noblest arts and artists, lieve of himself, when complimented with the finest pens and most elegant minds, the attributes of God? He can then conjointly employed to set it off with the vari-ceive thoughts of a power as omnipresent ous embellishments of sumptuous entertain- as his. But, should there be such a foe ments, charming assemblies, and polished of mankind now upon earth, have our sins discourses, and those apostate abilities of so far provoked Heaven, that we are left men, the adored monarch might profusely utterly naked to his fury? Is there no power, and skilfully encourage, while they flatter no leader, no genius, that can conduct and his virtue, and gild his vice at so high a animate us to our death, or to our defence? rate, that he, without scorn of the one, or Yes; our great God never gave one to reign love of the other, would alternately and by his permission, but he gave to another occasionally use both; so that his bounty also to reign by his grace. should support him in his rapines, his mercy in his cruelties. All the circumstances of the illustrious life of our prince seem to have conspired to Nor is it to give things a more severe make him the check and bridle of tyranny look, than is natural, to suppose such must for his mind has been strengthened and be the consequences of a prince's having no confirmed by one continued struggle, and other pursuit than that of his own glory; Heaven has educated him by adversity to for if we consider an infant born into the a quick sense of the distresses and miseries world, and beholding itself the mightiest of mankind, which he was born to redress thing in it, itself the present admiration and In just scorn of the trivial glories and light future prospect of a fawning people, who ostentations of power, that glorious instruprofess themselves great or mean, accord- ment of Providence moves, like that, in a ing to the figure he is to make amongst steady, calm, and silent course, indepenthem, what fancy would not be debauched dent either of applause or calumny; which to believe they were but what they pro-renders him, if not in a political, yet in a fessed themselves his mere creatures; and use them as such by purchasing with their lives a boundless renown, which he, for want of a more just prospect, would place in the number of his slaves, and the extent of his territories? Such undoubtedly would be the tragical effects of a prince's living with no religion, which are not to be sur passed but by his having a false one. "If ambition were spirited with zeal, what would follow, but that his people should be converted into an army, whose swords can make right in power, and solve controversy in belief? And if men should be stiff-necked to the doctrine of that visible church, let them be contented with an oar and a chain, in the midst of stripes and anguish, to con moral, a philosophic, an heroic, and a Christian sense, an absolute monarch: who, satisfied with this unchangeable, just, and ample glory, must needs turn all his regards from himself to the service of others; for he begins his enterprise with his own share in the success of them; for integrity bears in itself its reward, nor can that which depends not on event, ever know disappointment. With the undoubted character of a giorious captain, and (what he much more values than the most splendid titles,) that of a sincere and honest man, he is the hope and stay of Europe, an universal good; not to be engrossed by us only, for distant potentates implore his friendship, and injured empires court his assistance. He rules the world, not by an invasion of the people of the earth, but the address of its princes; and, if that world should be again roused from the repose which his prevailing arms had given it, why should we not hope that there is an Almighty, by whose influence the terrible enemy that thinks himself prepared for battle may find he is but ripe for destruction?-and that there may be in the womb of time great incidents, which may make the catastrophe of a prosperous life as unfortunate as the particular scenes of it were successful?—for there does not want a skilful eye and resolute arm to observe and grasp the occasion. A prince, who from every one of us. Virg. Æn. vi. 878. Heu pietas! heu prisca fides!Mirror of ancient faith! Undaunted worth! Inviolable truth!-Dryden. WE last night received a piece of ill news at our club, which very sensibly afflicted I question not but my readers themselves will be troubled at the hearing of it. To keep them no longer in suspense, Sir Roger de Coverley is dead. He departed this life at his house in the country, after a few weeks sickness. Sir Andrew Freeport has a letter from one of his correspondents in those parts, that informs him the old man caught a cold at the county-sessions, as he was very warmly promoting an address of his own penning, in which he succeeded according to his wishes. But this particular comes from a whig justice of peace, who was always Sir Roger's enemy and antagonist. I have letters both from the chaplain and captain Sentry, which mention nothing of it, but are filled with many particulars to the honour of the good old man. I have likewise a letter from the butler, who took so much care of me last summer when I was at the knight's house. As my friend the butler mentions, in the simplicity of his heart, several circumstances the others have passed over in silence, I shall give my reader a copy of his letter, without any alteration or diminution. 'HONOURED SIR,-Knowing that you was my old master's good friend, I could not forbear sending you the melancholy news of his death, which has afflicted the whole country, as well as his poor servants, who loved him, I may say, better than we did our lives. I am afraid he caught his death the last county-sessions, where he would go to see justice done to a poor widow woman, and her fatherless children, that had been wronged by a neighbouring gentleman; for you know, sir, my good master was always the poor man's friend. Upon his coming home, the first complaint he made was, that he had lost his roast-beef stomach, not being able to touch a sirloin, which was served up according to custom; and you know he used to take great delight in it. From that time forward he grew worse and worse, but still kept a good heart to the last. Indeed we were once in great hope of his recovery, upon a kind message that was sent him from the widow lady whom he had made love to the forty last years of his life; but this only proved a lightning before death. He has bequeathed to this lady, as a token of his love, a great pearl necklace, and a couple of silver bracelets set with jewels, which belonged to my good old lady his mother. He has bequeathed the fine white gelding that he used to ride a hunting upon to his chaplain, because he thought he would be kind to him; and has left you all his books. He has, moreover, bequeathed to the chaplain a very pretty tenement with good lands about it. It being a very cold day when he made his will, he left for mourning to every man in the parish, a great frieze-coat, and to every woman a black riding-hood. It was a moving sight to see him take leave of his poor whilst we were not able to speak a word servants, commending us all for our fidelity, for weeping. As we most of us are grown gray-headed in our dear master's service, he has left us pensions and legacies, which we may live very comfortably upon the remaining part of our days. He has bewhich is not yet come to my knowledge, queathed a great deal more in charity, and it is peremptorily said in the parish, that he has left money to build a steeple to the church; for he was heard to say some time ago, that, if he lived two years longer, it. The chaplain tells every body that he Coverley church should have a steeple to made a very good end, and never speaks of him without tears. He was buried, according to his own directions, among the of his father Sir Arthur. The coffin was family of the Coverleys, on the left hand carried by six of his tenants, and the pall held up by six of the quorum. The whole hearts and in their mourning suits; the men parish followed the corpse with heavy in frieze, and the women in riding-hoods. taken possession of the Hall-house, and the Captain Sentry, my master's nephew, has whole estate. When my old master saw him, a little before his death, he shook him by the hand, and wished him joy of the estate which was falling to him, desiring him only to make a good use of it, and to pay the several legacies, and the gifts of charity, which he told him he had left as quit-rents upon the estate. The captain truly seems a courteous man, though he says but little. He makes much of those whom my master loved, and shows great kindness to the old house-dog, that you know my poor master was so fond of. It would have gone to your heart to have heard the moans the dumb creature made on the day of my master's death. He has never joyed himself since; no more has any of us. It was the melancholiest day for the poor people that ever happened in Worcestershire. This being all from, honoured sir, your most sorrowful servant, EDWARD BISCUIT. P. S. My master desired; some weeks before he died, that a book which comes up to you by the carrier, should be given to Sir Andrew Freeport in his name.' This letter, notwithstanding the poor butler's manner of writing it, gave us such an idea of our good old friend, that upon the reading of it there was not a dry eye in the club. Sir Andrew, opening the book, found it to be a collection of acts of parliament. There was in particular the Act of Uniformity, with some passages in it marked by Sir Roger's own hand. Sir Andrew found that they related to two or three points which he had disputed with Sir Roger the last time he appeared at the club. Sir Andrew, who would have been merry at such an incident on another occasion, at the sight of the old man's writing burst into tears, and put the book in his pocket. Captain Sentry informs me that the knight has left rings and mourning for every one in the club. 0. No. 518.] Friday, October 24, 1712. -Wiserum est alienæ incumbere famæ, "Tis poor relying on another's fame: For, take the pillars but away, and all The superstructure must in ruins fall.-Stepney. THIS being a day of business with me, I must make the present entertainment like a treat at a house-warming, out of such presents as have been sent me by my guests. The first dish which I serve up is a letter come fresh to my hand. MR. SPECTATOR,-It is with inexpressible sorrow that I hear of the death of good Sir Roger, and do heartily condole with you upon so melancholy an occasion. I think you ought to have blackened the edges of a paper which brought us so ill news, and to have had it stamped likewise in black. It is expected of you that you should write his epitaph, and, if possible, fill his place in the club with as worthy and diverting a member. I question not but you will receive many recommendations from the public of such as will appear candidates for that post. an afternoon with great pleasure to yourself and to the public. It belongs to the church of Steben-Heath, commonly called Stepney. Whether or no it be that the people of that parish have a particular genius for an epitaph, or that there be some poet among them who undertakes that work by the great, I cannot tell; but there are more remarkable inscriptions in that place than in any other I have met with; and I may say, without vanity, that there is not a gen stones than myself, my studies having laid tleman in England better read in tombvery much in church-yards. I shall beg leave to send you a couple of epitaphs, fra sample of those I have just now mentioned. They are written in a different manner; the first being in the diffused and luxuriant, the second in the close contracted style. The first has much of the simple and pathetic; the second is something light, but nervous The first is thus: Here Thomas Sapper lies interr'd. Ah why! "Here lies the body of Daniel Sant, 'I will not dismiss you whilst I am upon this subject, without sending a short epe taph which I once met with, though I cannot possibly recollect the place. The thought of it is serious, and in my opinion the finest that I ever met with upon this occasion. You know, sir, it is usual, after having told us the name of the person who lies interred, to launch out into his praises This epitaph takes a quite contrary turn. having been made by the person himself some time before his death. "Hic jacet R. C. in expectatione dici supremi. Qualis erat dies iste indicabut.” "Here lieth R. C. in expectation of the last day. What sort of a man he was, that day will discover." 'I am, sir, &c.' The following letter is dated from Cambridge. 'SIR,-Having lately read among your speculations an essay upon physiognomy, I cannot but think, that, if you made a visit to this ancient university, you might receive very considerable lights upon that subject, there being scarce a young fellow in it who does not give certain indications of his particular humour and disposition, Since I am talking of death, and have conformable to the rules of that art. In mentioned an epitaph, I must tell you, sir, courts and cities every body lays a conthat I have made a discovery of a church-straint upon his countenance, and endea yard in which I believe you might spend vours to look like the rest of the world; but the youth of this place, having not yet formed themselves by conversation, and the knowledge of the world, give their limbs and features their full play. which I mean that system of bodies into which nature has so curiously wrought the mass of dead matter, with the several relations which those bodies bear to one another; there is still, methinks, something more wonderful and surprising in contemplations on the world of life, by which I mean all those animals with which every part of the universe is furnished. The material world is only the shell of the Universe, the world of life are its inhabitants. If we consider those parts of the material world which lie the nearest to us, and are therefore subject to our observation and inquiries, it is amazing to consider the infinity of animals with which it is stocked. Every part of matter is peopled; every green leaf swarms with inhabitants. There is scarce a single humour in the body of a man, or of any other animal, in which our glasses do not discover myriads of living creatures. The surface of animals is also covered with other animals, which are in the same manner the basis of other animals that live upon it; nay, we find in the most solid bodies, as in marble itself, innumerable cells and cavities that are crowded with such imperceptible inhabitants as are too little for the naked eye to discover. On the other hand, if we look into the more bulky parts of nature, we see the seas, lakes, and rivers, teeming with numberless kinds of living creatures. We find every mountain and marsh, wilderness and wood, plentifully stocked with birds and beasts; and every part of matter affording proper necessaries and conveniencies for the livelihood of multitudes which inhabit it. 'As you have considered human nature in all its lights, you must be extremely well apprized, that there is a very close correspondence between the outward and the ́inward man; that scarce the least dawning, the least parturiency towards a thought can be stirring in the mind of man, without producing a suitable revolution in his exteriors, which will easily discover itself to an adept in the theory of the phiz. Hence it is that the intrinsic worth and merit of a son of Alma Mater is ordinarily calculated from the cast of his visage, the contour of his person, the mechanism of his dress, the disposition of his limbs, the manner of his gait and air, with a number of circumstances of equal consequence and information. The practitioners in this art often make use of a gentleman's eyes to give them light into the posture of his brains; take a handle from his nose to judge of the size of his intellects; and interpret the overmuch visibility and pertness of one ear as an infallible mark of reprobation, and a sign the owner of so saucy a member fears neither God nor man. In conformity to this scheme, a contracted brow, a lumpish downcast look, a sober sedate pace, with both hands dangling quiet and steady in lines exactly parallel to each lateral pocket of his galligaskins, is logic, metaphysics, and mathematics, in perfection. So likewise the belles-lettres, are typified by a saunter in the gait, a fall of one wing of the peruke backward, an insertion of one The author of the Plurality of Worlds hand in the fob, and a negligent swing of draws a very good argument from this conthe other, with a pinch of right fine Bar-sideration for the peopling of every planet; celona between finger and thumb, a due quantity of the same upon the upper lip, and a noddle case loaden with pulvil. Again, a grave solemn stalking pace is heroic poetry and politics; an unequal one, a genius for the ode, and the modern ballad; and an open breast, with an audacious display of the Holland shirt, is construed a fatal tendency to the art military. I might be much larger upon these hints, but I know whom I write to. If you can graft any speculation upon them, or turn them to the advantage of the persons concerned in them, you will do a work very becoming the British Spectator, and oblige, your very humble servant, 'TOM TWEER.' No. 519.] Saturday, October 25, 1712. Et quæ marmoreo fert monstra sub æquore pontus. Dryden. THOUGH there is a great deal of pleasure in contemplating the material world, by as indeed it seems very probable, from the analogy of reason, that if no part of matter, which we are acquainted with, lies waste and useless, those great bodies which are at such a distance from us, should not be desert and unpeopled, but rather that they should be furnished with beings adapted to their respective situations. Existence is a blessing to those beings only which are endowed with perception; and is in a manner thrown away upon dead matter, any farther than as it is subservient to beings which are conscious of their existence. Accordingly we find, from the bodies which lie under our observation, that matter is only made as the basis and support of animals, and that there is no more of the one than what is necessary for the existence of the other. Infinite goodness is of so communicative a nature, that it seems to delight in the conferring of existence upon every degree of perceptive being. As this is a speculation which I have often pursued with great pleasure to myself, I shall enlarge farther Fontenelle.-This book was published in 1686, and obtained for the author great reputation. |