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not tell my reader, that I mean by this end, that happiness which is reserved for us in another world, which every one has abilities to procure, and which will bring along with itfulness of joy and pleasures for evermore.'

How the pursuit after fame may hinder us in the attainment of this great end, I shall leave the reader to collect from the three following considerations:

First, Because the strong desire of fame breeds several vicious habits in the mind.

Secondly, Because many of those actions, which are apt to procure fame, are not in their nature conducive to this our ultimate happiness.

Thirdly, Because if we should allow the same actions to be the proper instruments, both of acquiring fame, and of procuring this happiness, they would nevertheless fail in the attainment of this last end, if they proceeded from a desire of the first.

These three propositions are self-evident to those who are versed in speculations of morality. For which reason I shall not enlarge upon them, but proceed to a point of the same nature, which may open to us a more uncommon field of speculation.

From what has been already observed, I think we may make a natural conclusion, that it is the greatest folly to seek the praise or approbation of any being, besides the Supreme, and that for these two reasons, because no other being can make a right judgment of us, and esteem us according to our merits; and because we can procure no considerable benefit or advantage from the esteem and approbation of any other being.

sight, from whom no secrets are concealed. Again, there are many virtues which want an opportunity of exerting and showing themselves in actions. Every virtue requires time and place, a proper object and a fit conjuncture of circumstances, for the due exercise of it. A state of poverty obscures all the virtues of liberality and munificence. The patience and fortitude of a martyr or confessor lie concealed in the flourishing times of Christianity. Some virtues are only seen in affliction, and some in prosperity; some in a private, and others in a public capacity. But the great Sovereign of the world beholds every perfection in its obscurity, and not only sees what we do, but what we would do. He views our behaviour in every concurrence of affairs, and sees us engaged in all the possibilities of action. He discovers the martyr and confessor without the trial of flames and tortures, and will hereafter entitle many to the reward of actions, which they had never the opportunity of performing. Another reason why men cannot form a right judgment of us is, because the same actions may be aimed at different ends, and arise from quite contrary principles. Actions are of so mixed a nature, and so full of circumstances, that as men pry into them more or less, or observe some parts more than others, they take different hints, and put contrary interpretations on them; so that the same actions may represent a man as hypocritical and designing to one, which make him appear a saint or a hero to another. He therefore who looks upon the soul through its outward actions, often sees it through a deceitful medium, which is apt to discolour and pervert the object: so that on this account also, he is the only proper judge of our perfections, who does not guess at the sincerity of our intentions, from the goodness of our actions, but weighs the goodness of our actions by the sincerity of our intentions.

In the first place, no other being can make a right judgment of us, and esteem us according to our merits. Created beings see nothing but our outside, and can therefore only frame a judgment of us from our exterior actions and behaviour; but how unfit these are to give us a right notion of each other's perfections, may appear from But further, it is impossible for outward several considerations. There are many actions to represent the perfections of the virtues which in their own nature are soul, because they can never show the incapable of any outward representation; strength of those principles from whence many silent perfections in the soul of a good they proceed. They are not adequate exman, which are great ornaments to human pressions of our virtues, and can only show nature, but not able to discover themselves us what habits are in the soul, without disto the knowledge of others; they are trans- covering the degree and perfection of such acted in private without noise or show, and habits. They are at best but weak resemare only visible to the great Searcher of blances of our intentions, faint and imperhearts. What actions can express the fect copies, that may acquaint us with the entire purity of thought which refines and general design, but can never express the sanctifies a virtuous man? That secret rest, beauty and life of the original. But the and contentedness of mind, which gives great Judge of all the earth knows every him a perfect enjoyment of his present con- different state and degree of human imdition? That inward pleasure and compla-provement, from those weak stirrings and cency which he feels in doing good? That delight and satisfaction, which he takes in the prosperity and happiness of another? These and the like virtues are the hidden beauties of a soul, the secret graces which cannot be discovered by a mortal eye, but make the soul lovely and precious in his

tendencies of the will which have not yet formed themselves into regular purposes and designs, to the last entire finishing and consummation of a good habit. He beholds the first imperfect rudiments of a virtue in the soul, and keeps a watchful eye over it in all its progress, until it has received

every grace it is capable of, and appears in its full beauty and perfection. Thus we see that none but the Supreme Being can esteem us according to our proper merits, since all others must judge of us from our outward actions; which can never give them a just estimate of us, since there are many perfections of a man which are not capable of appearing in actions; many which, allowing no natural incapacity of showing themselves, want an opportunity of doing it; or should they all meet with an opportunity of appearing by actions, yet those actions may be misinterpreted, and applied to wrong principles: or though they plainly discovered the principles from whence they proceeded, they could never show the degree, strength, and perfection of those principles.

at present the reader shall have from my correspondents. The first of the letters with which I acquit myself for this day, is written by one who proposes to improve our entertainments of dramatic poetry, and the other comes from three persons, who, as soon as named, will be thought capable of advancing the present state of music.

MR. SPECTATOR,-I am considerably obliged to you for your speedy publication of my last in yours of the 18th instant, and am in no small hopes of being settled in the post of Comptroller of the Cries. Of all the objections I have hearkened after in public coffee-houses, there is but one that seems to carry any weight with it, viz. That such a post would come too near the nature of a monopoly. Now, sir, because I would have And as the Supreme Being is the only all sorts of people made easy, and being proper judge of our perfections, so is he the willing to have more strings than one to my only fit rewarder of them. This is a con- bow: in case that of comptroller should fail sideration that comes home to our interest, me, I have since formed another project, as the other adapts itself to our ambition. which being grounded on the dividing of a And what could the most aspiring, or the present monopoly, I hope will give the most selfish man desire more, were he to public an equivalent to their full content. form the notion of a Being to whom he You know, sír, it is allowed, that the busiwould recommend himself, than such a ness of the stage is, as the Latin has it, knowledge as can discover the least ap- jucunda et idonea dicere vitæ. Now there pearance of perfection in him, and such a being but one dramatic theatre licensed for goodness as will proportion a reward to it? the delight and profit of this extensive meLet the ambitious man therefore turn all tropolis, I do humbly propose, for the conhis desire of fame this way; and that he venience of such of its inhabitants as are too may propose to himself a fame worthy of distant from Covent-garden, that another his ambition, let him consider, that if he theatre of ease may be erected in some employs his abilities to the best advantage, spacious part of the city; and that the directhe time will come when the Supreme Go- tion thereof may be made a franchise in fee vernor of the world, the great Judge of to me and my heirs for ever. And that the mankind, who sees every degree of perfec- town may have no jealousy of my ever comtion in others, and possesses all possible ing into a union with the set of actors now perfection in himself, shall proclaim his in being, I do further propose to constitute worth before men and angels, and pro- for my deputy my near kinsman and adnounce to him in the presence of the whole venturer, Kit Crotchet,* whose long excreation that best and most significant of perience and improvements in those affairs applauses, 'Well done, thou good and faith-need no recommendation. It was obvious to ful servant, enter thou into thy master's every spectator, what a quite different foot joy.' the stage was upon during his government; and had he not been bolted out of his trapdoors, his garrison might have held out for

C.

No. 258.] Wednesday, December 26, 1711. ever; he having by long pains and persever

Divide et impera.

Divide and rule.

PLEASURE and recreation of one kind or other are absolutely necessary to relieve our minds and bodies from too constant attention and labour: where therefore public diversions are tolerated, it behoves persons of distinction, with their power and example, to preside over them in such a manner as to check any thing that tends to the corruption of manners, or which is too mean or trivial for the entertainment of reasonable creatures. As to the diversions of this kind in this town, we owe them to the arts of poetry and music. My own private opinion, with relation to such recreations, I have heretofore given with all the frankness imaginable; what concerns those arts

ance arrived at the art of making his army fight without pay or provisions. I must confess it is with a melancholy amazement, I see so wonderful a genius laid aside, and the late slaves of the stage now become its masters, dunces that will be sure to suppress all theatrical entertainments and activities that they are not able themselves to shine in!

Every man that goes to a play is not obliged to have either wit or understanding; and I insist upon it, that all who go there should see something which may improve them in a way of which they are capable. In short, sir, I would have something done, as well as said, on the stage. A man may have an active body, though he has not a

* Christopher Rich.

quick conception; for the imitation there- | Arsinoe, and did it to the best advantage so fore of such as are, as I may so speak, cor- great a novelty would allow. It is not proporeal wits, or nimble fellows, I would fain per to trouble you with particulars of the ask any of the present mismanagers, why just complaints we all of us have to make; should not rope-dancers, vaulters, tumblers, but so it is, that without regard to our obligladder-walkers, and posture-masters ap- ing pains, we are all equally set aside in the pear again on our stage? After such a re- present opera. Our application therefore presentation a five-bar gate would be leaped to you is only to insert this letter in your with a better grace next time any of the paper, that the town may know we have all audience went a hunting. Sir, these things three joined together to make entertaincry aloud for reformation, and fall properly ments of music for the future at Mr. Clayunder the province of Spectator-General; ton's house in York-buildings. What we but how indeed should it be otherwise, promise ourselves is, to make a subscription while fellows (that for twenty years toge-of two guineas, for eight times; and that the ther were never paid but as their master entertainment, with the names of the auwas in the humour) now presume to pay others more than ever they had in their lives: and in contempt of the practice of persons of condition, have the insolence to owe no tradesman a farthing at the end of the week. Sir, all I propose is the public good; for no one can imagine I shall ever get a private shilling by it: therefore I hope you will recommend this matter in one of your this week's papers, and desire when my house opens you will accept the liberty of it for the trouble you have received from, sir, your humble servant,

" RALPH CROTCHET. 'P. S. I have assurances that the trunkmaker will declare for us.

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thors of the poetry, may be printed, to be sold in the house, with an account of the several authors of the vocal as well as the instrumental music for each night; the money to be paid at the receipt of the tickets, at Mr. Charles Lillie's. It will, we hope, sir, be easily allowed, that we are capable of undertaking to exhibit, by our joint force and different qualifications, all that can be done in music; but lest you should think so dry a thing as an account of our proposal should be a matter unworthy of your paper, which generally contains something of public use; give us leave to say, that favouring our design is no less than reviving an art, which runs to ruin by the utmost barbarism under an affectation of knowledge. We aim at establishing some settled notion of what is music, at recovering from neglect and want very many families who depend upon it, at making all foreigners who pretend to succeed in England to learn the language of it as we ourselves have done, and not to be so insolent as to expect a whole nation, a refined and learned nation, should submit to learn theirs. In a word, Mr. Spectator, with all deference and humility, we hope to behave ourselves in this undertaking in such a manner, that all Englishmen who have any skill in music may be furthered in it for their profit or diversion by what new things we shall produce; never pretending to surpass others, or asserting that any thing which is a science, is not attainable by all men of all nations who have proper genius for it. We say, sir, what we hope for, it is not expected will arrive to us by contemning others, but through the utmost diligence recommending ourselves. We are, sir, your most humble servants,

'MR. SPECTATOR,-We whose names are subscribed, think you the properest person to signify what we have to offer the town in behalf of ourselves, and the art which we profess, music. We conceive hopes of your favour from the speculations on the mistakes which the town runs into with regard to their pleasure of this kind; and believing your method of judging is, that you consider music only valuable, as it is agreeable to, and heightens the purpose of poetry, we consent that it is not only the true way of relishing that pleasure, but also that without it a composure of music is the same thing as a poem, where all the rules of poetical numbers are observed, though the words have no sense or meaning; to say it shorter, mere musical sounds in our art are no other than nonsense verses are in poetry. Music therefore is to aggravate what is intended by poetry; it must always have son.e passion or sentiment to express, or else violins, voices, or any other organs of sound, afford an entertainment very little above the rattles of children. It was from this opinion of the matter, that when Mr. Clayton had finished his studies in Italy, and brought over the opera of Arsinoe, that Mr. Haym and Mr. Dieupart, who had the honour to be well known and received No. 259.] Thursday, December 27, 1711. among the nobility and gentry, were zealously inclined to assist by their solicitations, in introducing so elegant an entertainment as the Italian music grafted upon English poetry. For this end Mr. Dieupart and Mr. Haym, according to their several opportunities, promoted the introduction of

T.

THOMAS CLAYTON, NICOLINO HAYM, 'CHARLES DIEUPART.'

Quod decet honestum est, et quod honestum est decet.
Tull.

What is becoming is honourable, and what is honourable is becoming.

THERE are some things which cannot come under certain rules, but which one would think could not need them. Of this

kind are outward civilities and salutations. | sions thought it a very great absurdity in These one would imagine might be regu- the company (during the royal presence lated by every man's common sense, with- to exchange salutations from all parts of out the help of an instructor; but that which the room, when certainly common sense we call common sense suffers under that should suggest, that all regards at that time word; for it sometimes implies no more should be engaged, and cannot be diverted than that faculty which is common to all to any other object, without disrespect to men, but sometimes signifies right reason, the sovereign. But as to the complaint of and what all men should consent to. In my correspondents, it is not to be imagined this latter acceptation of the phrase, it is no what offence some of them take at the cusgreat wonder people err so much against tom of saluting in places of worship. I have it, since it is not every one who is possessed a very angry letter from a lady, who tells of it, and there are fewer who, against me of one of her acquaintance, who, out common rules and fashions, dare obey its of mere pride and a pretence to be rude, dictates. As to salutations, which I was takes upon her to return no civilities done about to talk of, I observe, as I stroll about to her in time of divine service, and is the town, there are great enormities committed most religious woman, for no other reason with regard to this particular. You shall but to appear a woman of the best quality sometimes see a man begin the offer of a in the church. This absurd custom had salutation, and observe a forbidding air, or better be abolished than retained; if it were escaping eye, in the person he is going to but to prevent evils of no higher a nature salute, and stop short in the poll of his than this is; but I am informed of objecneck. This, in the person who believed he tions much more considerable. A dissenter could do it with a good grace, and was re- of rank and distinction was lately prevailed fused the opportunity, is justly resented upon by a friend of his to come to one of the with a coldness the whole ensuing season. greatest congregations of the church of Your great beauties, people in much favour, England about town. After the service was or by any means or for any purpose over- over, he declared he was very well satisfied flattered, are apt to practise this, which with the little ceremony which was used one may call the preventing aspect, and towards God Almighty; but at the same throw their attention another way, lest time he feared that he should not be able to they should confer a bow or a courtesy go through those required towards one anupon a person who might not appear to other; as to this point he was in a state of deserve that dignity. Others you shall find despair, and feared he was not well-bred so obsequious, and so very courteous as enough to be a convert. There have been there is no escaping their favours of this many scandals of this kind given to our kind. Of this sort may be a man who is in protestant dissenters from the outward the fifth or sixth degree of favour with a pomp and respect we take to ourselves in minister. This good creature is resolved our religious assemblies. A quaker who to show the world, that great honours can-came one day into a church, fixed his eye not at all change his manners; he is the same civil person he ever was; he will venture his neck to bow out of a coach in full speed, at once to show he is full of business, and yet not so taken up as to forget his old friend. With a man who is not so well formed for courtship and elegant behaviour, such a gentleman as this seldom finds his account in the return of his compliments; but he will still go on, for he is in his own way, and must not omit; let the neglect fall on your side, or where it will, his business is still to be well-bred to the end. I think I have read, in one of our English comedies, a description of a fellow that affected knowing every body, and for want of judgment in time and place, would bow and smile in the face of a judge sitting in the court, would sit in an opposite gallery and smile in the minister's face as he came up into the pulpit, and nod as if he alluded to some familiarities between them in another place. But now I happen to speak of salutation at church, I must take notice that several of my correspondents have importuned me to consider that subject, and settle the point of decorum in that particular.

I do not pretend to be the best courtier in the world, but I have often on public occa- |

upon an old lady with a carpet larger than that from the pulpit before her, expecting when she would hold forth. An anabaptist who designs to come over himself, and all his family, within a few months, is sensible they want breeding enough for our congregations, and has sent his two eldest daughters to learn to dance, that they may not misbehave themselves at church. It is worth considering whether, in regard to awkward people with scrupulous consciences, a good Christian of the best air in the world ought not rather to deny herself the opportunity of showing so many graces, than keep a bashful proselyte without the pale of the church.

T.

No. 260.] Friday, December 28, 1711.
Singula de nobis anni prædantur euntes.

Hor. Lib. 2. Ep. ii. 55.
Years following years steal something every day,
At last they steal us from ourselves away.-Pope.
'MR. SPECTATOR,-I am now in the
sixty-fifth year of my age, and having been
the greater part of my days a man of plea-
sure, the decay of my faculties is a stagna-
tion of my life. But how is it, sir, that my
appetites are increased upon me with the

'MR. SPECTATOR,-You will infinitely oblige a distressed lover, if you will insert in your very next paper, the following letter to my mistress. You must know I am not a person apt to despair, but she has got an odd humour of stopping short unaccountably, and as she herself told a confidant of hers, she has cold fits. These fits shall last her a month or six weeks together; and as she falls into them without provocation, so it is to be hoped she will return from them without the merit of new services. But life and love will not admit of such intervals, therefore pray let her be admonished as follows:

loss of power to gratify them? I write this | ponder, the vagaries of a child are not more
like a criminal, to warn people to enter ridiculous than the circumstances which
upon what reformation they please to make are heaped up in my memory; fine gowns,
in themselves in their youth, and not expect country dances, ends of tunes, interrupted
they shall be capable of it from a fond opinion conversations, and midnight quarrels, are
some have often in their mouths, that if what must necessarily compose my soli-
we do not leave our desires, they will leave loquy. I beg of you to print this, that some
us. It is far otherwise; I am now as vain in ladies of my acquaintance and my years,
my dress, and as flippant, if I see a pretty may be persuaded to wear warm night-
woman, as when in my youth I stood upon caps this cold season: and that my old
a bench in the pit to survey the whole cir- friend Jack Tawdry may buy him a cane,
cle of beauties. The folly is so extravagant and not creep with the air of a strut. Í
with me, and I went on with so little check must add to all this, that if it were not for
of my desires, or resignation of them, that one pleasure, which I thought a very mean
I can assure you, I very often, merely to one until of very late years, I should have
entertain my own thoughts, sit with my no one great satisfaction left; but if I live to
spectacles on, writing love-letters to the the tenth of March, 1714, and all my se-
beauties that have been long since in their curities are good, I shall be worth fifty
graves. This is to warm my heart with thousand pounds. I am, sir, your most hum-
the faint memory of delights which were ble servant, JACK AFTERDAY.'
once agreeable to me; but how much hap-
pier would my life have been now, if I could
have looked back on any worthy action
done for my country? if I had laid out that
which I profused in luxury and wantonness,
in acts of generosity or charity? I have
lived a bachelor to this day; and instead of
a numerous offspring, with which in the
regular ways of life I might possibly have
delighted myself, I have only to amuse
myself with the repetition of old stories and
intrigues which no one will believe I ever
was concerned in. I do not know whether
you have ever treated of it or not; but you
cannot fall on a better subject than that of
the art of growing old. In such a lecture
you must propose, that no one set his heart
upon what is transient; the beauty grows
wrinkled while we are yet gazing at her.
The witty man sinks into a humourist im-
perceptibly, for want of reflecting that all
things around him are in a flux, and con-
tinually changing: thus he is in the space
of ten or fifteen years surrounded by a new
set of people, whose manners are as natural
to them as his delights, method of think-
ing, and mode of living, were formerly to
him and his friends. But the mischief is,
he looks upon the same kind of errors
which he himself was guilty of with an eye
of scorn, and with that sort of ill-will which
men entertain against each other for dif-
ferent opinions. Thus a crazy constitution,
and an uneasy mind is fretted with vexatious
passions for young men's doing foolishly,
what it is folly to do at all. Dear sir, this is
my present state of mind; I hate those I
should laugh at, and envy those I contemn.
The time of youth and vigorous manhood,
passed the way in which I have disposed
of it, is attended with these consequences;
but to those who live and pass away life
as they ought, all parts of it are equally
pleasant; only the memory of good and
worthy actions is a feast which must give
a quicker relish to the soul than ever it
could possibly taste in the highest enjoy- 'MR. SPECTATOR,-I am a footman in
ments or jollities of youth. As for me, if I a great family, and am in love with the
sit down in my great chair and begin to house-maid. We were all at hot-cockles

'MADAM,-I love you, and honour you: therefore, pray do not tell me of waiting until decencies, until forms, until humours are consulted and gratified. If you have that happy constitution as to be indolent for ten weeks together, you should consider that all that while I burn in impatiences and fevers: but still you say it will be time enough, though I and you too grow older think the most reasonable, that you should while we are yet talking. Which do you alter a state of indifference for happiness, and that to oblige me; or I live in torment, and that to lay no manner of obligation on you? While I indulge your insensibility I am doing nothing; if you favour my passion, you are bestowing bright desires, gay hopes, generous cares, noble resolutions, and transporting raptures upon, madam, your most devoted humble servant.'

'MR. SPECTATOR,-Here is a gentlewoman lodges in the same house with me, that I never did any injury to in my whole life; and she is always railing at me to those that she knows will tell me of it. Do not you think she is in love with me? or would you have me break my mind yet, or not? Your servant,

T. B.'

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