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No. 147.]

THE SPECTATOR.

tolemus, and to meet inen who have lived | All that we admired and adored before as with justice and truth? Is this, do you great and magnificent, is obliterated or vanthink, no happy journey? Do you think it ished; and another form and face of things, nothing to speak with Orpheus, Musæus, plain, simple, and every where the same, Homer, and Hesiod? I would, indeed, suf- overspreads the whole earth. Where are fer many deaths to enjoy these things. With now the great empires of the world, and what particular delight should I talk to their great imperial cities? their pillars, Palamedes, Ajax, and others who like me trophies, and monuments of glory? show have suffered by the iniquity of their judges. me where they stood, read the inscription, I should examine the wisdom of that great tell me the victor's name. What remains, prince, who carried such mighty forces what impressions, what difference or disagainst Troy; and argue with Ulysses and tinction do you see in this mass of fire? →Sisyphus upon difficult points, as I have in Rome itself, eternal Rome, the great city, conversation here, without being in danger the empress of the world, whose dominaof being condemned. But let not those tion and superstition, ancient and modern, among you who have pronounced me an make a great part of the history of the innocent man be afraid of death. No harm earth, what is become of her now? She laid can arrive at a good man, whether dead or her foundations deep, and her palaces were living; his affairs are always under the strong and sumptuous. "She glorified herdirection of the gods; nor will I believe the self, and lived deliciously, and said in her fate which is allotted to me myself this day heart, I sit a queen, and shall see no sorto have arrived by chance; nor have I aught row:" But her hour is come, she is wiped to say either against my judges or accusers, away from the face of the earth, and buried but that they thought they did me an in- in everlasting oblivion. But it is not cities jury. But I detain you too long, it is only, and works of men's hands, but the time that I retire to death, and you to your everlasting hills, the mountains and rocks affairs of life; which of us has the better is of the earth are melted as wax before the sun, and "their place is no where found." known to the gods, but to no mortal man.' Here stood the Alps, the load of the earth, that covered many countries, and reached their arms from the ocean to the Black Sea; this huge mass of stone is softened and dissolved as a tender cloud into rain. Here stood the African mountains, and Atlas with his top above the clouds; there was frozen Caucasus, and Taurus, and Imaus, and the mountains of Asia; and yonder towards the north, stood the Riphæan hills clothed in ice and snow. All these are vanished, dropt away as the snow upon their heads. "Great and marvellous are thy works, just and true are thy ways, thou King of saints! Hallelujah.

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world. How pleasing must have been the No. 147.] Saturday, August 18, 1711.
speculation, to observe Nature and Provi-
dence move together, the physical and
moral world march the same pace: to ob-
serve paradise and eternal spring the seat
'MR. SPECTATOR,-The well reading of
of innocence, troubled seasons and angry
skies the portion of wickedness and vice.
When this admirable author has reviewed the Common Prayer is of so great impor-
all that has past, or is to come, which re- tance, and so much neglected, that I take
lates to the habitable world, and run through the liberty to offer to your consideration
the whole face of it, how could a guardian some particulars on that subject. And what
angel, that had attended it through all its more worthy your observation than this?
courses or changes, speak more emphati- A thing so public, and of so high conse-
cally at the end of his charge, than does our
author when he makes, as it were, a funeral
oration over this globe, looking to the point
where it once stood?

Let us only, if you please, to take leave
of this subject, reflect upon this occasion on
the vanity and transient glory of this habita-
ble world. How by the force of one ele-
ment breaking loose upon the rest, all the
varieties of nature, all the works of art, all
the labours of men are reduced to nothing.

quence. It is indeed wonderful, that the frequent exercise of it should not make the This inability, as I conceive, proceeds from performers of that duty more expert in it. the little care that is taken of their reading, while boys and at school, where, when they are got into Latin, they are looked upon as above English, the reading of which is

Burnet's Theory of the Earth, 1684. fol. Book III. Chap. 12. p. 110, 111.

wholly neglected, or at least read to very | to place the emphasis, and give the proper little purpose, without any due observations accent to each word, and how to vary the made to them of the proper accent and voice according to the nature of the senmanner of reading; by this means they have tence. There is certainly a very great difacquired such ill habits as will not easily be ference between the reading a prayer and removed. The only way that I know of to a Gazette, which I beg of you to inform a remedy this, is to propose some person of set of readers, who affect, forsooth, a cergreat ability that way as a pattern for them; tain gentleman-like familiarity of tone, and example being most effectual to convince mend the language as they go on, crying, the learned, as well as instruct the ignorant. instead of pardoneth and absolveth,' par'You must know, sir, I have been a con- dons and absolves. These are often pretty stant frequenter of the service of the church classical scholars, and would think it an unof England for above these four years last pardonable sin to read Virgil or Martial past, and until Sunday was seven-night with so little taste as they do divine service. never discovered to so great a degree, the excellency of the Common Prayer. When, being at St. James's Garlick-Hill church, I heard the service read so distinctly, so emphatically, and so fervently, that it was next to an impossibility to be unattentive. My eyes and my thoughts could not wander as usual, but were confined to my prayers. I then considered I addressed myself to the Almighty, and not to a beautiful face. And when I reflected on my former performances of that duty, I found I had run it over as a matter of form, in comparison to the manner in which I then discharged it. My mind was really affected, and fervent wishes accompanied my words. The Confession was read with such a resigned humility, the Absolution with such a comfortable authority, the Thanksgivings with such a religious joy, as made me feel those affections of the mind in a manner I never did before. To remedy therefore the grievance above complained of, I humbly propose, that this excellent reader, upon the next, and every annual assembly of the clergy of Sion-college, and all other conventions, should read prayers before them. For then those that are afraid of stretching their mouths, and spoiling their soft voices, will learn to read with clearness, loudness, and strength. Others that affect a rakish, negligent air, by folding their arms and lolling on their books, will be taught a decent behaviour, and comely erection of body. Those that read so fast, as if impatient of their work, may learn to speak deliberately. There is another sort of persons, whom I call Pindaric readers, as being confined to no set measure; these pronounce five or six words with great deliberation, and the five or six subsequent ones with as great celerity: the first part of a sentence with a very exalted voice, and the latter part with a submissive one: sometimes again with one sort of a tone, and immediately after with a very different one. These gentlemen will learn of my admired reader an evenness of voice and delivery, and all who are innocent of these affectations, but read with such an indifferency as if they did not understand the language, may then be informed of the art of reading movingly and fervently, how

The rector of this parish at that time was Mr. Philip Stubbs, afterwards archdeacon of St. Alban's.

'This indifferency seems to me to rise from the endeavour of avoiding the imputation of cant, and the false notion of it. It will be proper therefore to trace the original and signification of this word. "Cant" is, by some people, derived from one Andrew Cant, who, they say, was a Presbyterian minister in some illiterate part of Scotland, who by exercise and use had obtained the faculty, alias gift, of talking in the pulpit in such a dialect, that it is said he was understood by none but his own congregation, and not by all of them. Since master Cant's time, it has been understood in a larger sense, and signifies all sudden exclamations, whinings, unusual tones, and in fine all praying and preaching, like the unlearned of the Presbyterians. But I hope a proper elevation of voice, a due emphasis and accent, are not to come within this description. So that our readers may still be as unlike the Presbyterians as they please. The dissenters (I mean such as I have heard,) do indeed elevate their voices, but it is with sudden jumps from the lower to the higher part of them; and that with so little sense or skill, that their elevation and cadence is bawling and muttering. They make use of an emphasis, but so improperly, that it is often placed on some very insignificant particle, as upon 'if' or 'and.' Now if these improprieties have so great an effect on the people, as we see they have, how great an influence would the service of our church, containing the best prayers that ever were composed, and that in terms most affecting, most humble, and most expressive of our wants, and dependence on the object of our worship, disposed in most proper order, and void of all confusion; what influence, I say, would these prayers have, were they delivered with a due emphasis, and apposite rising and variation of voice, the sentence concluded with a gentle cadence, and in a word, with such an accent and turn of speech as is peculiar to prayer.

'As the matter of worship is now managed, in dissenting congregations, you find insignificant words and phrases raised by a lively vehemence; in our own churches, the most exalted sense depreciated, by a dispassionate_indolence. I remember to have heard Doctor S -et say in his

† Probably Dr. Smallridge.

No. 148.]

THE SPECTATOR.

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pulpit, of the Common Prayer, that, at whatsoever any thing above mere neces-
feast, it was as perfect as any thing of hu-saries.
man institution. If the gentlemen who err
in this kind would please to recollect the
many pleasantries they have read upon
those who recite good things with an ill
grace, they would go on to think that what
in that case is only ridiculous, in themselves
is impious. But leaving this to their own
reflections, I shall conclude this trouble
with what Cæsar said upon the irregularity
of tone in one who read before him. "Do
you read or sing? If you sing, you sing
"Your most humble servant.
very ill."

T.

No. 148.] Monday, August 20, 1711.
-Exempta juvat spinis e pluribus una.
Hor. Lib. 2. Ep. ii. 212.

Better one thorn pluck'd out, than all remain.

As we in England are a sober people,
and generally inclined rather to a certain
bashfulness of behaviour in public, it is
amazing whence some fellows come whom
one meets with in this town; they do not at
all seem to be the growth of our island; the
As for my
pert, the talkative, all such as have no
sense, of the observation of others, are cer-
tainly of foreign extraction.
part, I am as much surprised when I see a
talkative Englishman, as I should be to see
the Indian pine growing on one of our quick-
set hedges. Where these creatures get sun
enough, to make them such lively animals
and dull men, is above my philosophy.

There are another kind of impertinents which a man is perplexed with in mixed company, and those are your loud speakers. These treat mankind as if we were all deaf; they do not express but declare themselves. Many of these are guilty of this outrage out My correspondents assure me that the of vanity, because they think all they say is enormities which they lately complained of, well; or that they have their own persons and I published an account of, are so far in such veneration, that they believe nofrom being amended, that new evils arise thing which concerns them can be insignievery day to interrupt their conversation, ficant to any body else. For these people's in contempt of my reproofs. My friend who sake, I have often lamented that we cannot writes from the coffee-house near the Tem-close our ears with as much ease as we can ple, informs me that the gentleman who constantly sings a voluntary in spite of the whole company, was more musical than ordinary after reading my paper; and has not been contented with that, but has danced up to the glass in the middle of the room, and practised minuet-steps to his own humming. The incorrigible creature has gone still farther, and in the open coffee-house, with one hand extended as leading a lady in it, he has danced both French and country-dances, and admonished his supposed partner by smiles and nods to hold up her head, and fall back, according to the respective facings and evolutions of the dance. Before this gentleman began this his exercise, he was pleased to clear his throat by coughing and spitting a full half hour; and as soon as he struck up, he appealed to an attorney's clerk in the room, whether he hit as he ought, Since you from death have saved me?" and then asked the young fellow (pointing to a chancery-bill under his arm, whether that was an opera-score he carried or not? Without staying for an answer, he fell into the exercise abovementioned, and practised his airs to the full house who were turned upon him, without the least shame or repentance for his former transgressions.

our eyes. It is very uneasy that we must necessarily be under persecution. Next to these bawlers, is a troublesome creature who comes with the air of your friend and your intimate, and that is your whisperer. There is one of them at a coffee-house which I myself frequent, who observing me to be a man pretty well made for secrets, gets by me, and with a whisper tells me things which all the town knows. It is no very hard matter to guess at the source of this impertinence, which is nothing else but a method or mechanic art of being wise. You never see any frequent in it, whom you can suppose to have any thing in the world to do. These persons are worse than bawlers, as much as a secret enemy is more dan

I am to the last degree at a loss what to do with this young fellow, except I declare him an outlaw, and pronounce it penal for any one to speak to him in the said house which he frequents, and direct that he be obliged to drink his tea and coffee without sugar, and not receive from any person

* Si legis, cantas: si cantas, male cantas.

.

than a declared one. I wish this my gerous coffee-house friend would take this for an intimation, that I have not heard one word he has told me for these several years; The whisperers whereas he now thinks me the most trusty repository of his secrets. have a pleasant way of ending the close conversation, with saying aloud, Do not you think so?" Then whisper again, and then aloud, But you know that person;' then whisper again. The thing would be well enough, if they whispered to keep the folly of what they say among friends; but, alas, they do it to preserve the importance of their thoughts. I am sure I could name you more than one person whom no man living ever heard talk upon any subject in nature, or ever saw in his whole life with a book in his hand, that, I know not how, can whisper something like knowledge of what has and does pass in the world: which you would think he learned from some fa

miliar spirit that did not think him worthy | being really so? Come to us; forget the to receive the whole story. But in truth gigglers; let your inclination go along with whisperers deal only in half accounts of you, whether you speak or are silent; and what they entertain you with. A great help let all such women as are in a clan or sisto their discourse is, That the town says, terhood go their own way; there is no room and people begin to talk very freely, and for you in that company who are of the they had it from persons too considerable common taste of the sex. to be named, what they will tell you when things are riper.' My friend has winked upon me any day since I came to town last, and has communicated to me as a secret, that he designed in a very short time to tell me a secret; but I shall know what he means, he now assures me, in less than a No. 149.] Tuesday, August 21, 1711. fortnight's time.

For women born to be controll'd
Stoop to the forward and the bold;
Affect the haughty and the proud,
The gay, the frolic, and the loud.'*

T.

Cui ut manu sit quem esse dementem velit,
Quem sapere, quem sanari, quem in morbum injici,
Quem contra amari, quem accersiri, quem expeti.
Cecil. apud Tull.

Who has it in her pow'r to make men mad,
Or wise, or sick, or well: and who can choose
The object of her appetite at pleasure.
THE following letter, and my answer,
shall take up the present speculation.

But I must not omit the dearer part of mankind, I mean the ladies, to take up a whole paper upon grievances which concern the men only; but shall humbly propose, that we change fools for an experiment only. A certain set of ladies complain they are frequently perplexed with a visitant, who affects to be wiser than they are; which character he hopes to preserve 'MR. SPECTATOR,-I am the young by an obstinate gravity, and great guard widow of a country gentleman, who has against discovering his opinion upon any left me entire mistress of a large fortune, occasion whatsoever. A painful silence which he agreed to as an equivalent for the has hitherto gained him no farther advan- difference in our years. In these circumtage, than that as he might, if he had be- stances it is not extraordinary to have a haved himself with freedom, been excepted crowd of admirers; which I have abridged against, but as to this and that particular, in my own thoughts, and reduced to a couhe now offends in the whole. To relieve ple of candidates only, both young, and these ladies, my good friends and corre- neither of them disagrecable in their perspondents, I shall exchange my dancing sons: according to the common way of outlaw for their dumb visitant, and assign computing, in one the estate more than dethe silent gentleman all the haunts of the serves my fortune, in the other my fortune dancer; in order to which, I have sent more than deserves the estate. When I them by the penny-post the following let-consider the first, I own I am so far a ters for their conduct in their new conver-woman I cannot avoid being delighted with

sations.

the thoughts of living great; but then he 'SIR,-I have, you may be sure, heard seems to receive such a degree of courage of your irregularities without regard to my looks as if he was going to confer an obligafrom the knowledge of what he has, he observations upon you; but shall not treat you with so much rigour as you deserve. If tion on me; and the readiness he accosts you will give yourself the trouble to repair me with, makes me jealous I am only hearto the place mentioned in the postscript to ing a repetition of the same things he has this letter, at seven this evening, you will said to a hundred women before. When I be conducted into a spacious room, well- consider the other, I see myself approachlighted, where there are ladies and music.ed with so much modesty and respect, and You will see a young lady laughing next such a doubt of himself, as betrays, methe window to the street; you may take her out, for she loves you as well as she does any man, though she never saw you before. She never thought in her life, any more than yourself. She will not be surprised when you accost her, nor concerned when you leave her. Hasten from a place where you are laughed at, to one where you will be admired. You are of no consequence, therefore go where you will be welcome for being so. Your humble ser

vant.'

SIR,-The ladies whom you visit, think a wise man the most impertinent creature living, therefore you cannot be offended that they are displeased with you. Why will you take pains to appear wise, where you would not be the more esteemed for

thinks, an affection within, and a belief at the same time that he himself would be unexceptionable husband could I make out the only gainer by my consent. What an of both! but since that is impossible, I beg to be concluded by your opinion. It is absolutely in your power to dispose of, your most obedient servant, SYLVÍA.'

'MADAM,-You do me great honour in your application to me on this important occasion; I shall therefore talk to you with the tenderness of a father, in gratitude for your giving me the authority of one. You between these gentlemen as to their perdo not seem to make any great distinction circumstances and behaviour. If the one sons; the whole question lies upon their

* Waller.

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No 150]

THE SPECTATOR.

is less respectful because he is rich, and the other more obsequious because he is not so, they are in that point moved by the same principle, the consideration of fortune, and you must place them in each other's circumstances before you can judge of their inclination. To avoid confusion in discussing this point, I will call the richer man Strephon, and the other Florio. If you believe Florio with Strephon's estate would behave himself as he does now, Florio is certainly your man; but if you think Strephon were he in Florio's condition, would be as obsequious as Florio is now, you ought for your own sake to choose Strephon; for where the men are equal, there is no doubt riches ought to be a reason for preference. After this manner, my dear child, I would have you abstract them from their circumstances; for you are to take it for granted, that he who is very humble only because he is poor, is the very same man in nature, with him who is haughty because he is rich.

'When you have gone thus far, as to consider the figure they make towards you; you will please, my dear, next to consider the appearance you make towards them. If they are men of discerning, they can observe the motives of your heart: and Florio can see when he is disregarded only upon account of fortune, which makes you to him a mercenary creature; and you are still the same thing to Strephon, in taking him for his wealth only; you are therefore to consider whether you had rather oblige, than receive an obligation.

223

other's person and conduct. In company
they are in a purgatory, when only together
in a hell.

The happy marriage is where two per-
sons meet and voluntarily make choice of
each other, without principally regarding
or neglecting the circumstances of fortune
or beauty. These may still love in spite
of adversity or sickness: the former we
may in some measure defend ourselves
from, the other is the portion of our very
make. When you have a true notion of
this sort of passion, your humour of living
great will vanish out of your imagination,
and you will find love has nothing to do
with state. Solitude, with the person be-
loved, has a pleasure, even in a woman's
mind, beyond show or pomp. You are
therefore to consider which of your lovers
will like you best undressed, which will
bear with you most when out of humour;
and your way to this is to ask of yourself,
sake? and by that judge which gives the
which of them you value most for his own
greater instances of his valuing you for
yourself only.

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After you have expressed some sense of the humble approach of Florio, and a little disdain at Strephon's assurance in his address, you cry out, What an unexceptionable husband could I make out of both!" way to determine yourself. Take him in It would therefore, methinks, be a good whom what you like is not transferable to another; for if you choose otherwise, there is no hope your husband will ever have what you liked in his rival; but intrinsic quali"The marriage-life is always an insipid, ties in one man may very probably pura vexatious, or a happy condition. The first chase every thing that is adventitious in is, when two people of no genius or taste another. In plainer terms: he whom you for themselves meet together upon such a take for his personal perfections will sooner settlement as has been thought reasonable arrive at the gifts of fortune, than he whom by parents and conveyancers, from an ex- you take for the sake of his fortune, atact valuation of the land and cash of both tain to personal perfections. If Strephon parties. In this case the young lady's per-is not as accomplished and agreeable as son is no more regarded, than the house and improvements in purchase of an estate: but she goes with her fortune, rather than her fortune with her. These make up the crowd or vulgar of the rich, and fill up the lumber of human race, without beneficence towards those below them, or respect to-dient, humble servant.' wards those above them; and lead a despicable, independent, and useless life, without sense of the laws of kindness, good-nature, No. 150.] Wednesday, August 18, 1711. mutual offices, and the elegant satisfactions which flow from reason and virtue.

Nil habet infelix paupertas durius in se, Quam quod ridiculos homines facit.Juv. Sat. iii. 152. Want is the scorn of every wealthy fool, The vexatious life arises from a conAnd wit in rags is turn'd to ridicule.-Dryden. junction of two people of quick taste and As I was walking in my chamber the resentment, put together for reasons well known to their friends, in which special care is taken to avoid (what they think the morning before I went last into the coun chief of evils) poverty, and ensure to them try, I heard the hawkers with great veheriches, with every evil besides. These mence crying about a paper, entitled, The good people live in a constant constraint Ninety-nine Plagues of an Empty Purse. before company, and too great familiarity I had indeed sometime before observed, alone. When they are within observation that the orators of Grub-street had dealt they fret at each other's carriage and very much in plagues. They have albehaviour, when alone they revile each ready published in the same month, The

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