I have more than once had occasion to mention a noble Saying of
Seneca
the Philosopher,
That a virtuous Person struggling with Misfortunes, and rising above them, is an Object on which the Gods themselves may look down with Delight
1
. I shall therefore set before my Reader a Scene of this kind of Distress in private Life, for the Speculation of this Day.


An eminent Citizen, who had lived in good Fashion and Credit, was by a Train of Accidents, and by an unavoidable Perplexity in his Affairs, reduced to a low Condition. There is a Modesty usually attending faultless Poverty, which made him rather chuse to reduce his Manner of Living to his present Circumstances, than sollicit his Friends in order to support the Shew of an Estate when the Substance was gone. His Wife, who was a Woman of Sense and Virtue, behaved her self on this Occasion with uncommon Decency, and never appear'd so amiable in his Eyes as now. Instead of upbraiding him with the ample Fortune she had brought, or the many great Offers she had refused for his sake, she redoubled all the Instances of her Affection, while her Husband was continually pouring out his Heart to her in Complaints that he had ruined the best Woman in the World. He sometimes came home at a time when she did not expect him, and surpriz'd her in Tears, which she endeavour'd to conceal, and always put on an Air of Chearfulness to receive him. To lessen their Expence, their eldest Daughter (whom I shall call
Amanda
) was sent into the Country, to the House of an honest Farmer, who had married a Servant of the Family. This young Woman was apprehensive of the Ruin which was approaching, and had privately engaged a Friend in the Neighbourhood to give her an account of what passed from time to time in her Father's Affairs.
Amanda
was in the Bloom of her Youth and Beauty, when the Lord of the Manor, who often called in at the Farmer's House as he followd his Country Sports, fell passionately in love with her. He was a Man of great Generosity, but from a loose Education had contracted a hearty Aversion to Marriage. He therefore entertained a Design upon
Amanda's
Virtue, which at present he thought fit to keep private. The innocent Creature, who never suspected his Intentions, was pleased with his Person; and having observed his growing Passion for her, hoped by so advantageous a Match she might quickly be in a capacity of supporting her impoverish'd Relations. One day as he called to see her, he found her in Tears over a Letter she had just receiv'd from her Friend, which gave an Account that her Father had lately been stripped of every thing by an Execution. The Lover, who with some Difficulty found out the Cause of her Grief, took this occasion to make her a Proposal. It is impossible to express
Amanda's
Confusion when she found his Pretensions were not honourable. She was now deserted of all her Hopes, and had no Power to speak; but rushing from him in the utmost Disturbance, locked her self up in her Chamber. He immediately dispatched a Messenger to her Father with the following Letter.
Sir,

I have heard of your Misfortune, and have offer'd your Daughter, if she will live with me, to settle on her Four hundred Pounds a year, and to lay down the Sum for which you are now distressed. I will be so ingenuous as to tell you that I do not intend Marriage: But if you are wise, you will use your Authority with her not to be too nice, when she has an opportunity of saving you and your Family, and of making her self happy.

I am, &c.
This Letter came to the Hands of Amanda's Mother; she opend and read it with great Surprize and Concern. She did not think it proper to explain her self to the Messenger, but desiring him to call again the next Morning, she wrote to her Daughter as follows.
Dearest Child,

Your Father and I have just now receiv'd a Letter from a Gentleman who pretends Love to you, with a Proposal that insults our Misfortunes, and would throw us to a lower Degree of Misery than any thing which is come upon us. How could this barbarous Man think, that the tenderest of Parents would be tempted to supply their Wants by giving up the best of Children to Infamy and Ruin? It is a mean and cruel Artifice to make this Proposal at a time when he thinks our Necessities must compel us to any thing; but we will not eat the Bread of Shame; and therefore we charge thee not to think of us, but to avoid the Snare which is laid for thy Virtue. Beware of pitying us: It is not so bad as you have perhaps been told. All things will yet be well, and I shall write my Child better News.

I have been interrupted. I know not how I was moved to say things would mend. As I was going on I was startled by a Noise of one that knocked at the Door, and hath brought us an unexpected Supply of a Debt which had long been owing. Oh! I will now tell thee all. It is some days I have lived almost without Support, having conveyd what little Money I could raise to your poor Father—Thou wilt weep to think where he is, yet be assured he will be soon at Liberty. That cruel Letter would have broke his Heart, but I have concealed it from him. I have no Companion at present besides little Fanny, who stands watching my Looks as I write, and is crying for her Sister. She says she is sure you are not well, having discover'd that my present Trouble is about you. But do not think I would thus repeat my Sorrows, to grieve thee: No, it is to intreat thee not to make them insupportable, by adding what would be worse than all. Let us bear chearfully an Affliction, which we have not brought on our selves, and remember there is a Power who can better deliver us out of it than by the Loss of thy Innocence. Heaven preserve my dear Child.

Your Affectionate Mother ——
The Messenger, notwithstanding he promised to deliver this Letter to
Amanda
, carry'd it first to his Master, who he imagined would be glad to have an Opportunity of giving it into her Hands himself. His Master was impatient to know the Success of his Proposal, and therefore broke open the Letter privately to see the Contents. He was not a little moved at so true a Picture of Virtue in Distress: But at the same time was infinitely surprized to find his Offers rejected. However, he resolved not to suppress the Letter, but carefully sealed it up again, and carried it to
Amanda
. All his Endeavours to see her were in vain, till she was assured he brought a Letter from her Mother. He would not part with it, but upon Condition that she should read it without leaving the Room. While she was perusing it, he fixed his Eyes on her Face with the deepest Attention: Her Concern gave a new Softness to her Beauty, and when she burst into Tears, he could no longer refrain from bearing a Part of her Sorrow, and telling her, that he too had read the Letter and was resolvd to make Reparation for having been the Occasion of it. My Reader will not be displeased to see this Second Epistle which he now wrote to
Amanda's
Mother.
Madam,

I am full of Shame, and will never forgive my self, if I have not your Pardon for what I lately wrote. It was far from my Intention to add Trouble to the Afflicted; nor could any thing, but my being a Stranger to you, have betray'd me into a Fault, for which, if I live, I shall endeavour to make you amends, as a Son. You cannot be unhappy while Amanda is your Daughter: nor shall be, if any thing can prevent it, which is in the power of, Madam,

Your most obedient
Humble Servant ——
This Letter he sent by his Steward, and soon after went up to Town himself, to compleat the generous Act he had now resolved on. By his Friendship and Assistance
Amanda's
Father was quickly in a condition of retrieving his perplex'd Affairs. To conclude, he Marry'd
Amanda
, and enjoyd the double Satisfaction of having restored a worthy Family to their former Prosperity, and of making himself happy by an Alliance to their Virtues.





Footnote 1:
  See note on p. 148 [Volume 1 links:
Footnote 1
of
No. 39
], vol. i.

return to footnote mark


Contents
Contents, p.6



No. 376

Monday, May 12, 1712

Steele


—Pavone ex Pythagoreo—

Persius.



Mr. Spectator,

I have observed that the Officer you some time ago appointed as Inspector of Signs, has not done his Duty so well as to give you an Account of very many strange Occurrences in the publick Streets, which are worthy of, but have escaped your Notice. Among all the Oddnesses which I have ever met with, that which I am now telling you of gave me most Delight. You must have observed that all the Criers in the Street attract the Attention of the Passengers, and of the Inhabitants in the several Parts, by something very particular in their Tone it self, in the dwelling upon a Note, or else making themselves wholly unintelligible by a Scream. The Person I am so delighted with has nothing to sell, but very gravely receives the Bounty of the People, for no other Merit but the Homage they pay to his Manner of signifying to them that he wants a Subsidy. You must, sure, have heard speak of an old Man, who walks about the City, and that part of the Suburbs which lies beyond the Tower, performing the Office of a Day-Watchman, followed by a Goose, which bears the Bob of his Ditty, and confirms what he says with a Quack, Quack. I gave little heed to the mention of this known Circumstance, till, being the other day in those Quarters, I passed by a decrepit old Fellow with a Pole in his Hand, who just then was bawling out, Half an Hour after one a-Clock, and immediately a dirty Goose behind him made her Response, Quack, Quack. I could not forbear attending this grave Procession for the length of half a Street, with no small amazement to find the whole Place so familiarly acquainted with a melancholy Mid-night Voice at Noon-day, giving them the Hour, and exhorting them of the Departure of Time, with a Bounce at their Doors. While I was full of this Novelty, I went into a Friend's House, and told him how I was diverted with their whimsical Monitor and his Equipage. My Friend gave me the History; and interrupted my Commendation of the Man, by telling me the Livelihood of these two Animals is purchased rather by the good Parts of the Goose, than of the Leader: For it seems the Peripatetick who walked before her was a Watchman in that Neighbourhood; and the Goose of her self by frequent hearing his Tone, out of her natural Vigilance, not only observed, but answer'd it very regularly from Time to Time. The Watchman was so affected with it, that he bought her, and has taken her in Partner, only altering their Hours of Duty from Night to Day. The Town has come into it, and they live very comfortably. This is the Matter of Fact: Now I desire you, who are a profound Philosopher, to consider this Alliance of Instinct and Reason; your Speculation may turn very naturally upon the Force the superior Part of Mankind may have upon the Spirits of such as, like this Watchman, may be very near the Standard of Geese. And you may add to this practical Observation, how in all Ages and Times the World has been carry'd away by odd unaccountable things, which one would think would pass upon no Creature which had Reason; and, under the Symbol of this Goose, you may enter into the Manner and Method of leading Creatures, with their Eyes open, thro' thick and thin, for they know not what, they know not why.

All which is humbly submitted to your Spectatorial Wisdom by,
Sir,
Your most humble Servant,
Michael Gander.



Mr. Spectator,

I have for several Years had under my Care the Government and Education of young Ladies, which Trust I have endeavour'd to discharge with due regard to their several Capacities and Fortunes: I have left nothing undone to imprint in every one of them an humble courteous Mind, accompanied with a graceful becoming Mein, and have made them pretty much acquainted with the Houshold Part of Family-Affairs; but still I find there is something very much wanting in the Air of my Ladies, different from what I observe in those that are esteemed your fine bred Women. Now, Sir, I must own to you, I never suffered my Girls to learn to Dance; but since I have read your Discourse of Dancing, where you have described the Beauty and Spirit there is in regular Motion, I own my self your Convert, and resolve for the future to give my young Ladies that Accomplishment. But upon imparting my Design to their Parents, I have been made very uneasy, for some Time, because several of them have declared, that if I did not make use of the Master they recommended, they would take away their Children. There was Colonel Jumper's Lady, a Colonel of the Train-Bands, that has a great Interest in her Parish; she recommends Mr. Trott for the prettiest Master in Town, that no Man teaches a Jigg like him, that she has seen him rise six or seven Capers together with the greatest Ease imaginable, and that his Scholars twist themselves more ways than the Scholars of any Master in Town: besides there is Madam Prim, an Alderman's Lady, recommends a Master of her own Name, but she declares he is not of their Family, yet a very extraordinary Man in his way; for besides a very soft Air he has in Dancing, he gives them a particular Behaviour at a Tea-Table, and in presenting their Snuff-Box, to twirl, flip, or flirt a Fan, and how to place Patches to the best advantage, either for Fat or Lean, Long or Oval Faces: for my Lady says there is more in these Things than the World Imagines. But I must confess the major Part of those I am concern'd with leave it to me. I desire therefore, according to the inclosed Direction, you would send your Correspondent who has writ to you on that Subject to my House. If proper Application this way can give Innocence new Charms, and make Virtue legible in the Countenance, I shall spare no Charge to make my Scholars in their very Features and Limbs bear witness how careful I have been in the other Parts of their Education.
I am, Sir,
Your most humble Servant,
Rachael Watchful
T.


Contents
Contents, p.6



No. 377

Tuesday, May 13, 1712

Addison


Quid quisque vitet, nunquam homini satis
Cautum est in horas—

Hor.


Love
was the Mother of
Poetry
, and still produces, among the most ignorant and barbarous, a thousand imaginary Distresses and Poetical Complaints. It makes a Footman talk like
Oroondates
, and converts a brutal Rustick into a gentle Swain. The most ordinary Plebeian or Mechanick in Love, bleeds and pines away with a certain Elegance and Tenderness of Sentiments which this Passion naturally inspires.


These inward Languishings of a Mind infected with this Softness, have given birth to a Phrase which is made use of by all the melting Tribe, from the highest to the lowest, I mean that of
dying for Love
.


Romances, which owe their very Being to this Passion, are full of these metaphorical Deaths. Heroes and Heroines, Knights, Squires, and Damsels, are all of them in a dying Condition. There is the same kind of Mortality in our Modern Tragedies, where every one gasps, faints, bleeds and dies. Many of the Poets, to describe the Execution which is done by this Passion, represent the Fair Sex as Basilisks that destroy with their Eyes;
but
I think Mr.
Cowley
has with greater Justness of Thought compared a beautiful Woman to
a Porcupine, that sends an Arrow from every Part
1
.


I have often thought, that there is no way so effectual for the Cure of this general Infirmity, as a Man's reflecting upon the Motives that produce it. When the Passion proceeds from the Sense of any Virtue or Perfection in the Person beloved, I would by no means discourage it; but if a Man considers that all his heavy Complaints of Wounds and Deaths rise from some little Affectations of Coquetry, which are improved into Charms by his own fond Imagination, the very laying before himself the Cause of his Distemper, may be sufficient to effect the Cure of it.


It is in this view that I have looked over the several Bundles of Letters which I have received from Dying People, and composed out of them the following Bill of Mortality, which I shall lay before my Reader without any further Preface, as hoping that it may be useful to him in discovering those several Places where there is most Danger, and those fatal Arts which are made use of to destroy the Heedless and Unwary.


Lysander slain at a Puppet-show on the third of September.
Thirsis shot from a Casement in Pickadilly.
T. S. wounded by Zehinda's Scarlet Stocking, as she was stepping out of a Coach.
Will. Simple smitten at the Opera by the Glance of an Eye that was aimed at one who stood by him.
Tho. Vainlove lost his Life at a Ball.
Tim. Tattle kill'd by the Tap of a Fan on his left Shoulder by Coquetilla, as he was talking carelessly with her in a Bow-window.
Sir Simon Softly murder'd at the Play-house in Drury-lane by a Frown.
Philander mortally wounded by Cleora, as she was adjusting her Tucker.
Ralph Gapely, Esq. hit by a random Shot at the Ring.
F. R. caught his Death upon the Water, April the 31st.
W. W. killed by an unknown Hand, that was playing with the Glove off upon the Side of the Front-Box in Drury-Lane.
Sir Christopher Crazy, Bart. hurt by the Brush of a Whalebone Petticoat.
Sylvius shot through the Sticks of a Fan at St. James's Church.
Damon struck thro' the Heart by a Diamond Necklace.
Thomas Trusty
Francis Goosequill
William Meanwell
Edward Callow, Esqrs.





standing in a Row, fell all four at the same time, by an Ogle of the Widow Trapland.
Tom. Rattle chancing to tread upon a Lady's Tail as he came out of the Play-house, she turned full upon him, and laid him dead upon the Spot.
Dick Tastewell slain by a Blush from the Queen's Box in the third Act of the Trip to the Jubilee.
Samuel Felt, Haberdasher wounded in his Walk to Islington by Mrs. Susannah Crossstich, as she was clambering over a Stile.
R. F.,
T. W.,
S. I.,
M. P., &c.


put to Death in the last Birth-Day Massacre.
Roger Blinko cut off in the Twenty-first Year of his Age by a White-wash.
Musidorus slain by an Arrow that flew out of a Dimple in Belinda's Left Cheek.
Ned Courtly presenting Flavia with her Glove (which she had dropped on purpose) she receivd it, and took away his Life with a Curtsie.
John Gosselin having received a slight Hurt from a Pair of blue Eyes, as he was making his Escape was dispatch'd by a Smile.
Strephon killed by Clarinda as she looked down into the Pit.
Charles Careless shot flying by a Girl of Fifteen, who unexpectedly popped her Head upon him out of a Coach.
Josiah Wither aged threescore and three, sent to his long home by Elizabeth Jet-well, Spinster.
Jack Freelove murderd by Melissa in her Hair.
William Wiseaker, Gent. drown'd in a Flood of Tears by Moll Common.
John Pleadwell, Esq. of the Middle Temple, Barrister at Law, assassinated in his Chambers the sixth Instant by Kitty Sly, who pretended to come to him for his Advice.


I.





Footnote 1:
 
They are all weapon, and they dart
Like Porcupines from every Part.
Anacreontics
, iii.

return to footnote mark


Contents
Contents, p.6



No. 378

Wednesday, May 14, 1712

Pope


Aggredere, O magnos, aderit jam tempus, honores.

Virg.


I will
make
no Apology for entertaining the Reader with the following Poem, which is written by a great Genius, a Friend of mine, in the Country, who is not ashamd to employ his Wit in the Praise of his Maker
1
.




Messiah
.


A sacred Eclogue, compos'd of several Passages of
Isaiah the Prophet.


Written in Imitation of
Virgil's
Pollio
.


Ye Nymphs of Solyma! begin the Song:
To heav'nly Themes sublimer Strains belong.
The Mossy Fountains, and the Sylvan Shades,
The Dreams of Pindus and th' Aonian Maids,
Delight no more—O Thou my Voice inspire,
Who touch'd Isaiah's hallow'd2 Lips with Fire!
Rapt into future Times, the Bard begun;
A Virgin shall conceive, a Virgin bear a Son!
Isaiah, Cap. II. v. 1. From Jesse's Root behold a Branch arise,
Whose sacred Flow'r with Fragrance fills the Skies.
Th' Æthereal Spirit o'er its Leaves shall move,
And on its Top descends the Mystick Dove.
Cap. 45. v. 8. Ye Heav'ns! from high the dewy Nectar pour,
And in soft Silence shed the kindly Show'r!
Cap. 25. v. 4. The Sick and Weak, the healing Plant shall aid,
From Storms a Shelter, and from Heat a Shade.
All Crimes shall cease, and ancient Fraud shall fail;
Cap. 9. v. 7. Returning Justice lift aloft her Scale;
Peace o'er the World her Olive Wand extend,
And white-rob'd Innocence from Heav'n descend.
Swift fly the Years, and rise th' expected Morn!
Oh spring to Light, Auspicious Babe, be born!
See Nature hastes her earliest Wreaths to bring,
With all the Incense of the breathing Spring:
Cap. 35. v. 2. See lofty Lebanon his Head advance,
See nodding Forests on the Mountains dance,
See spicy Clouds from lowly Sharon rise,
And Carmels flow'ry Top perfumes the Skies!
Cap. 40. v. 3, 4. Hark! a glad Voice the lonely Desart chears;
Prepare the Way! a God, a God appears:
A God! a God! the vocal Hills reply,
The Rocks proclaim th' approaching Deity.
Lo Earth receives him from the bending Skies!
Sink down ye Mountains, and ye Vallies rise!
With Heads declin'd, ye Cedars, Homage pay!
Be smooth ye Rocks, ye rapid Floods give way!
The Saviour comes! by ancient Bards foretold;
Cap. 42. v. 18. Hear him, ye Deaf, and all ye Blind behold!
Cap. 35. v. 5, 6. He from thick Films shall purge the visual Ray,
And on the sightless Eye-ball pour the Day.
'Tis he th' obstructed Paths of Sound shall clear,
And bid new Musick charm th' unfolding Ear,
The Dumb shall sing, the Lame his Crutch forego,
And leap exulting like the bounding Roe;
No Sigh, no Murmur the wide World shall hear,
From ev'ry Face he wipes off ev'ry Tear.
Cap. 25. v. 8. In Adamantine Chains shall Death be bound,
And Hell's grim Tyrant feel th' eternal Wound. 3
Cap. 30. v. xx. As the good Shepherd tends his fleecy Care,
Seeks freshest Pastures and the purest Air,
Explores the lost, the wand'ring Sheep directs,
By day o'ersees them, and by night protects;
The tender Lambs he raises in his Arms,
Feeds from his Hand, and in his Bosom warms:
Mankind shall thus his Guardian Care engage,
The promis'd Father of the future Age4.
No more shall Nation against Nation rise5,
No ardent Warriors meet with hateful Eyes,
Nor Fields with gleaming Steel be coverd o'er,
The Brazen Trumpets kindle Rage no more;
But useless Lances into Scythes shall bend,
And the broad Falchion in a Plow-share end.
Then Palaces shall rise; the joyful Son6
Shall finish what his short-liv'd Sire begun;
Their Vines a Shadow to their Race shall yield,
And the same Hand that sow'd shall reap the Field.
The Swain in barren Desarts with Surprize7
Sees Lillies spring, and sudden Verdure rise;
And Starts, amidst the thirsty Wilds, to hear,
New Falls of Water murmuring in his Ear:
On rifted Rocks, the Dragon's late Abodes,
The green Reed trembles, and the Bulrush nods.
Waste sandy Vallies, once perplexd with Thorn8,
The spiry Fir and shapely Box adorn:
To leafless Shrubs the flow'ring Palms succeed,
And od'rous Myrtle to the noisome Weed.
The Lambs with Wolves shall graze the verdant Mead9
And Boys in flow'ry Bands the Tyger lead;
The Steer and Lion at one Crib shall meet,
And harmless Serpents Lick the Pilgrim's Feet.
The smiling Infant in his Hand shall take
The crested Basilisk and speckled Snake;
Pleas'd, the green Lustre of the Scales survey,
And with their forky Tongue and pointless Sting shall play.
Rise, crown'd with Light, imperial Salem rise!10
Exalt thy tow'ry Head, and lift thy Eyes!
See, a long Race thy spacious Courts adorn;11
See future Sons and Daughters yet unborn
In crowding Ranks on ev'ry side arise,
Demanding Life, impatient for the Skies!
See barb'rous Nations at thy Gates attend,12
Walk in thy Light, and in thy Temple bend.
See thy bright Altars throng'd with prostrate Kings,
And heap'd with Products of Sabæan Springs!13
For thee Idume's spicy Forests blow;
And seeds of Gold in Ophir's Mountains glow.
See Heav'n its sparkling Portals wide display,
And break upon thee in a Flood of Day!
No more the rising Sun shall gild the Morn,14
Nor Evening Cynthia fill her silver Horn,
But lost, dissolv'd in thy superior Rays;
One Tide of Glory, one unclouded Blaze
O'erflow thy Courts: The Light Himself shall shine
Reveal'd; and God's eternal Day be thine!
The Seas shall waste, the Skies in Smoke decay;15
Rocks fall to Dust, and Mountains melt away;
But fix'd His Word, His saving Pow'r remains:
Thy Realm for ever lasts! thy own Messiah reigns.


T.





Footnote 1:
  Thus far Steele.

return to footnote mark



Footnote 2:
 
hollow'd

return



Footnote 3:
 
Before him Death, the grisly Tyrant, flies;
He wipes the Tears for ever from our Eyes.
This was an alteration which Steele had suggested, and in which young Pope had acquiesced. Steele wrote:
I have turned to every verse and chapter, and think you have preserved the sublime, heavenly spirit throughout the whole, especially at "Hark a glad voice," and "The lamb with wolves shall graze." There is but one line which I think is below the original:
He wipes the tears for ever from our eyes.
You have expressed it with a good and pious but not so exalted and poetical a spirit as the prophet: The Lord God shall wipe away tears from off all faces. If you agree with me in this, alter it by way of paraphrase or otherwise, that when it comes into a volume it may be amended.
return



Footnote 4:
  Cap. 9. v. 6.

return



Footnote 5:
  Cap. 2. v. 4.

return



Footnote 6:
 Cap. 65. v. 21, 22.

return



Footnote 7: