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No. 122.] ridiculous. However, I thought it very natural, when her eyes were thus open, to see her give a new turn to her discourse, and, from sympathising with her mistress in her follies, to fall a-railing at her. “You cannot imagine,' said she, “Mr. Bickerstaff, what a life she makes us lead, for the sake of this little ugly cur. If he dies, we are the most unhappy family in town. She chanced to lose a parrot last year, wo. to tell you truly, brought me into her service; for she turned off her woman upon it, who had * 'lived with her ten years, because she neglected to give him water, though every one of the family says she was as innocent of the bird's death, as the babe that is unborn; nay, she told me this very morning, that if Cupid should die, she would send the poor innocent wench I was "atelling you of to Bridewell, and have the milkwoman tried for her life at the Old-Bailey, for putting water into his milk. . In short, she talks , a like any distracted creature." o ‘Since it is so, young woman,” said I, ‘I will by no means let you offend her, by staying on this message longer than is absolutelyne** cessary;' and so forced her out... " While I am studying to cure those evils and

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* - man life, I find my task growing upon me; since, by these accidental cares, and acquired * calamities, if I may so call them, my patients * contract distempers to which their constitution is of itself a stranger. But this is an evil I have o for many years remarked in the fair sex; and as they are by nature very much formed for * affection and dalliance, I have observed, that when by too obstinate a cruelty, or any other, means, they have disappointed themselves of the proper objects of love, as husbands, or children, such virgins have, exactly at such a year, grown, fond of lap-dogs, parrots, or other animals. I know at this time a celebrated toast, whom I allow to be one of the most, agreeable of her sex, that, in the presence of her admirers, will give a torrent of kisses to her cat, any one of which a Christian would be glad of... I do "not at the same time deny, but there are as great enormities of this kind committed by our sex as theirs. A Roman emperor had so very great an esteem for a horse of his, that he had thoughts of making him a consul; and several moderns of that rank of men whom we call country esquires, would not scruple to kiss their * hounds before all the world, and declare in the presence of their wives, that they had rather salute a favourite of the pack, than the finest woman in England. These voluntary friendships, between animals of different species, seem to arise from instinct; for which reason, I have always looked upon the mutual good-will be. tween the esquire and the hound, to be of the same nature with that between the lion and the jackall. The only extravagance of this kind which appears to me excusable, is one that grew out of an excess of gratitude, which I have somewhere met with in the life of a Turkish emperor. His horse had brought him safe out of a field of battle, and from the pursuit of a victorious enemy. As a reward for such his good and faithful service, his master built him a

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distresses that are necessary or natural to o: *.

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o * o stable of marble, shod him with gold, fed him in an ivory manger, and made him a rack of silver. He annexed to the stable several fields and meadows, lakes and running streams. At the same time he provided for him a seraglio of mares, the most beautiful that could be found in the whole Ottoman empire. To these were added a suitable train of domestics, consisting of grooms, farriers, rubbers, &c. accommodated with proper liveries and pensions. In short, nothing was omitted that could contribute to o happiness of his life, who had preo the emperor's. * * *

*** By reason of the extreme cold, and the changeableness of the weather, I have been vailed upon to allow the free use of the ardingal, until the twentieth of February next ensuing.

No. 122.J. Thursday, January 19, 1709-10. r

Cur in theatrum, Cato severe, venistiž .Mart.
Why to the theatre did Cato come,
With all his boasted gravity? R. Wynne.

* From my own Apartment, January 18. e - a - I FIND it is thought necessary, that I, who have taken upon me to censure the irregularities of the age, should give an account of my own actions, when they appear doubtful, or subject to misconstruction.: My appearing at the play on Monday” last is looked upon as a step in my conduct, which I ought to explain, that others may not be misled by my example. It is true, in matter of fact, I was present at the ingenious entertainment of that day, and placed myself in a box which was prepared for me with great civility and distinction. It is said of Virgil, when he entered a Roman theatre, where there were many thousands of spectators present, that the whole assembly rose up to do him honour; a respect which was never before paid to any but the emperor. I must confess, that universal clap, and other testimonies of applause, with which I was received at my first appearance in the theatre of Great Britain, gave me as sensible a delight, as the above-mentioned reception could give to that immortal poet." Isshould be ungrateful, at the same time, if I did not take this opportunity of acknowledging the great civilities that were shown me by Mr. Thomas Dogget, who made his compliments to me between the acts after a most ingenious and discreet manner; and at the same time communicated to me “that the company of Upholders desired to receive me at their door at the end of the Hay-market, and to light me home to my lodgings.' That part of the ceremony I forbade, and took particular care during the whole play, to observe the conduct of the drama, and give no offence by my own behaviour. Here I think it will not be foreign to my character, to lay down the proper duties

* A person dressed for Isaac Bickerstaff did appear at of an audience, and what is incumbent upon each individual spectator in public diversions of this nature. Every one should, on these occasions, show his attention, understanding, and virtue. I would undertake to find out all the persons of sense and breeding by the effect of a single sentence, and to distinguish a gentleman as much by his laugh, as his brow. When we see the footman and his lord diverted by the same jest, it very much turns to the diminution of the one, or the honour of the other. But though a man's quality may appear in his understanding and taste, the regard to virtue ought to be the same in all ranks and conditions of men, however they make a profession of it, under the name of honour, religion, or morality. When, therefore, we see any thing divert an audience, either in tragedy or coinedy, that strikes at the duties of civil life, or exposes what the best men in all ages have looked upon as sacred and inviolable; it is the certain sign of a profligate race of men, who are fallen from the virtue of their forefathers, and will be contemptible in the eyes of their posterity. For this reason, I took great delight in seeing the generous and disinterested passion of the lovers in this comedy, which stood so many trials, and was proved by such a variety of diverting Incidents, received with a universal approbation. This brings to my mind a passage in Cicero, which I could never read without being in love with the virtue of a Roman audience. He there describes the shouts and applauses which the people gave to the persons who acted the parts of Pylades and Orestes, in the noblest occasion that a poet could invent to show friendship in perfection. One of then had forfeited his o by an action which he had committed; and as they stood in judgment before the tyrant, each of them strove who should be the criminal, that he might save the life of his friend. Amidst the vehemence of each asserting himself to be the offender, the Roman audicnce gave a thunder of applause, and by that means, as the author hints, approved in others what they would have done themselves on the like occasion. Methinks, a people of so much virtue were deservedly placed at the head of mankind: but, alas! pleasures of this nature are not frequently to be met with on the English stage. The Athenians, at a time when they were the most polite, as well as the most powerful government in the world, made the care of the stage one of the chief parts of the administra. tion: and I inust confess, I am astonished at the spirit of virtue which appeared in that people, upon some expressions in a scene of a famous tragedy: an account of which we have in one of Seneca's Epistles. A covetous person is represented speaking the common sentiments of all who are possessed with that vice, in the following scliloquy, which I have translated literally:

the playhouse on this occasion.

‘Let me be called a base man, so I am called a rich one. If a man is rich, who asks if he is good? The question is, how much we have, not from whence, or by what means, we have it. Every one has so much merit as he has wealth. For my own part, let me be rich, O

ye gods! or let me die. The man dies happily who dies increasing his treasure. There is more pleasure in the possession of wealth, than in that of parents, children, wife, or friends.’

The audience were very much provoked by the first words of this speech; but when the actor came to the close of it, they could bear no longer. In short, the whole assembly rose up at once in the greatest fury, with a design to pluck him off the stage, and brand the work itself with infamy. In the midst of the tumult, the author came out from behind the scenes, begging the audience to be composed for a little while, and they should see the tragical end which this wretch should come to immediately. The promise of punishment appeased the people, who sat with great attention and pleasure to see an example made of so odious a criminal. It is with shame and concern that I speak it; but I very much question, whether it is possible to make a speech so impious as to raise such a a laudable horror and indignation in a modern audience. It is very natural for an author to make ostentation of his reading, as it is for an old man to tell stories; for which reason I must beg the reader will excuse ine, if I for once indulge myself in both these inclinations. We . see the attention, judgment, and virtue of a whole audience, in the foregoing instances. If we would imitate the behaviour of a single spectator, let us reflect upon that of Socrates in a particular which gives inc as great an idea of that extraordinary man, as any circumstance of his life, or, what is more, of his death. This venerable person often frequented the theatre, which brought a great many thither, out of a desire to sco him. On which occasion, it is recorded of him, that he sometimes stood, to make himself the more conspicuous, and to satisfy the curiosity of the beholders. He was one day present at the first representation of a tragedy of Euripides, who was his intimate friend, and whom he is said to have assisted in several of his plays. In the midst of the tragedy, which had met with very great success, there' chanced to be a line that seemed to encourage vice and immorality. -

This was no sooner spoken, but Socrates rose from his scat, and, without any regard to his affection for his friend, or to the success of the play, showed himself displeased at what was said, and walked out of the assembly. I question not but the reader will be curious to know, what the line was that gave this divine heathen so much offence. If my memory fails me not, it was in the part of Hippolitus, who, when he he is pressed by an oath, which he had taken to keep silence, returned for answer, that he had taken the oath with his tongue, but not with his heart, Had a person of a vicious character made such a speech, it might have been allowed as a proper representation of the baseness of his thoughts: but such an expression, out of the mouth of the virtuous Hippolitus, was giving a sanction to falsehood, and establishing perjury by a maxim.

Having got over all interruptions, I have set apart to-morrow for the closing of my vision.

which stood before it.

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With much labour and difficulty I passed through the first part of my vision, and recovered the centre of the wood, from whence I had the prospect of the three great roads. I here joined myself to the middle-aged party of mankind, who marched behind the standard of Ambition. The great road lay in a direct line, and was terminated by the ‘Temple of Virtue.' It was planted on each side with laurels, which were intermixed with marble trophies, carved pillars, and statues of law-givers, heroes, statesmen, philosophers, and poets. The persons who travelled up this great path were such whose thoughts were bent upon doing eminent services to mankind, or promoting the good of their country. On each side of this great road were several paths, that were also laid out in straight lines, and ran parallel with it. These were most of them covered walks, and received into thern men of retired virtue, who proposed to themselves the same end of their journey, though they chose to make it in shade and obscurity. The edifices at the extremity of the walk were so contrived, that we could not see the ‘Temple of Honour’ by reason of the ‘Temple of Virtue,’ At the gates of this temple we were met by the goddess of it, who conducted us into that of Honour, which was joined to the other edifice by a beautiful triumphal arch, and had no other entrance into it. When the deity of the inner structure had received us, she presented us in a body to a figure that was placed over the high-altar, and was

... the emblem of Eternity. She sat on a globe in

the midst of a golden zodiac, holding the figure of a sun in one hand, and a moon in the other. Her head was veiled, and her feet covered. Our hearts glowed within us, as we stood amidst the sphere of light which this image cast on every side of it. Having seen all that happened to this band of adventurers, I repaired to another pile of building that stood within view of the ‘Temple of Honour,” and was raised in imitation of it, upon the very same model; but, at my approach to it, I found that the stones were laid together without mortar, and that the whole fabric stood upon so weak a foundation, that it shook with every wind that blew. This was called the ‘Temple of Vanity.’ The goddess of it sat in the midst of a great many tapers, that burned day and night, and made her appear much better than she would have done in open day-light. Her whole art was, to show herself more beautiful and majestic than she really was. For which reason she had painted her face, and wore a cluster of false jewels upon her breast; but what I more particularly observed was, the breadth of her petticoat, which was made altogether in the fashion of a modern

fardingal. This place was filled with hypocrites, pedants, free-thinkers, and prating politicians; with a rabble of those who have only titles to make them great men. Female votaries crowded the temple, choked up the avenues of it, and were more in number than the sand upon the sea shore. I made it my business, in my return towards that part of the wood from whence I first set out, to observe the walk which led to this temple; for I met in it several who had begun their journey with the band of virtuous persons, and travelled some time in their company; but, upon examination, I found that there were several paths which led out of the great road into the sides of the wood, and ran into so many crooked turns and windings, that those who travelled through them, often turned their backs upon the ‘Temple of Virtue;’ then crossed the straight road, and sometimes marched in it for a little space, until the crooked path which they were engaged in, again led them into the wood. The several alleys of these wanderers had their particular ornaments. One of then I could not but take notice of in the walk of the mischievous pretenders to politics, which had at every turn the figure of a person, whom, by the inscription, I found to be Machiavel," pointing out the way with an extended finger, like a Mercury. I was now returned in the same manner as before, with a design to observe carefully every thing that passed in the region of Avarice, and the occurrences in that assembly, which was made up of persons of my own age. This body of travellers had not gone far in the third great road, before it led them insensibly into a deep valley, in which they journied several days with great toil and uneasiness, and without the necessary refreshments of food and sleep. The only relief they met with, was in a river that ran through the bottom of the valley on a bed of golden sand. They often drank of this stream, which had such a particular quality in it, that though it refreshed them for a time, it rather inflamed than quenched their thirst. On each side of the river was a range of hills full of precious ore; for, where the rains had washed of the earth, one might see in several parts of them long veins of gold, and rocks that looked like pure silver. We were told, that the deity of the place had forbidden any of his votaries to dig into the bowels of these hills, or convert the treasures they contained to any use, under pain of starving. At the end of the valley stood the ‘Temple of Avarice, made after the manner of a fortification, and surrounded with a thousand triple-headed dogs, that were placed there to keep off beggars. At our approach, they all fell a-barking, and would have very much ter. rified us, had not an old woman who called herself by the forged name of Competency, offered herself for our guide. She carried, under her garment, a golden bough, which she no sooner held up in her hand, but the dogs lay down, and the gates flew open for our reception. We were led through a hundred iron doors before we entered the temple. At the upper end of it sat the god of Avarice, with a long filthy beard, and a meagre starved countenance, inclosed with heaps of ingots, and pyramids of money, but half naked and shivering with cold. On his right hand was a fiend called Rapine; and, on his left, a particular favourite, to whom he had given the title of Parsimony. The first was his collector, and the other his cashier. There were several long tables placed on each side of the temple, with respective officers attending behind them. Some of these I inquired into. At the first table was kept the “Office of Corruption.’ Seeing a solicitor extremely busy, and whispering every body that passed by ; I kept my eyes upon him very attentively, and saw him often going up to a person that had a pen in his hand, with a multiplication table and an almanack before him, which, as I afterwards heard, was all the learning he was master of The solicitor would often apply himself to his car, and at the same time convey money into his hand, for which the other would give him out a piece of paper or parchment, signed and sealed in form. The name of this dexterous and successful solicitor was Bribery. At the next table was the “Office of Extortion.” Behind it sat a person in a bob wig, counting over great sums of money. He gave out little purses to several; who, after a short tour, brought him, in return, sacks full of the same kind of coin. I saw, at the same time, a person called Fraud, who sat behind a counter with false scales, light weights, and scanty measures; by the skilful

* Nicholas Machiavel, an ingenious man and an elegant writer, was secretary, and afterwards historio. grapher to the republic of Florence, of which he was a native. Having discovered in his conduct a great deal of republican spirit, and bestowed many encomiums on Brutus and Cassius, both in his conversation and writings, he was suspected of being concerned in the machinations of Soderini against the house of Medicis. He suffered the torture upon this suspicion, and had strength enough to bear the torment without confessing any thing. Ilaving led a miserable life for some time, turning every thing into ridicule, and abandoning himself to irreligion, he died, in 1330, of a reinedy which he took by way of precaution.


application of which instruments, she had got ||

together an immense heap of wealth. It would be endless to name the several officers, or describe the votaries that attended in this temple. There were many old men, panting and breathless, reposing their heads on bags of money; nay, many of them actually dying, whose very pangs and convulsions, which rendered their purses useless to them, only made them grasp them the faster. There were some tearing with one hand all things, even to the garments and flesh of many miserable persons who stood before them ; and, with the other hand, throwing away what they had seized, to harlots, flatterers, and panders, that stood behind them. On a sudden, the whole assembly fell a trembling; and upon inquiry, I found that the great room we were in was haunted with a spectre, that many times a day appeared to them, and terrified them to distraction. In the midst of their terror and amazement, the apparition entered, which I immediately knew to be Poverty. Whether it were by my acquaintance with this phantom, which had rendered the sight of her more familiar to me, or however it was, she did not make so indigent or frightful a figure in my eye, as the god of this loathsome temple. The miserable votaries

of this place were, I found, of another mind. Every one fancied himself threatened by the apparition as she stalked about the room, and began to lock their coffers, and tie their bags with the utmost fear and trembling. I must confess, I look upon the passion which I saw in this unhappy people, to be of the same nature with those unaccountable antipathies which some persons are born with, or rather as a kind of phrenzy, not unlike that which throws a man into terrors and agonies, at the sight of so useful and innocent a thing as water. The whole assembly was surprized, when, instead of paying my devotions to the deity whom they all adored, they saw me address myself to the phantom. “Oh Poverty " said I, ‘my first petition to thee is, that thou wouldest never appear to me hereafter; but, if thou wilt not grant me this, that then thou wouldest not bear a form more terrible than that in which thou appearest to me at present. Let not thy threats and menaces betray me to any thing that is ungrateful, or . unjust. Let me not shut my ears to the cries of the needy. Let me not forget the person that has deserved well of me. any fear of thee, desert my friend, my principles, or my honor. If Wealth is to visit me, and to come with her usual attendants, Vanity and Avarice, do thou, O Poverty hasten to my rescue; but bring along with thee the two sisters, in whose company thou art always cheerful, Liberty and Innocence.’.

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Fortune can, for her pleasure, fools advance,
And toss them on the wheels of Chance.—Dryden.

From my own Apartment, January 23.

the city; and, as I passed through Cheapside, I saw crowds of people turning down towards the Bank, and struggling who should first get their money into the new-erected lottery.” It gave me a great notion of the credit of our pre- . sent government and administration, to find people press as eagerly to pay money, as they would to receive it; and, at the same time, a due respect for that body of men who have found out so pleasing an expedient for carrying on the common cause, that they have turned a tax into a diversion. The cheerfulness of spirit, and the hopes of success, which this project has occasioned in this great city, lightens the burden of the war, and puts me in mind of some games, which, they say, were invented by

* The earliest lottery that is recollected was in 1569,

consisting of 40,000 lots, at 10s, each lot. The prizes were plate, and the profits were to go towards repairing the havens of the kingdom. It was drawn at the west door of St. Paul's Cathedral ; and the drawing which began Jan. 11, continued incessantly, day and night, till My 6. There were then only three lottery-offices in London. The curious roader will siud inore on this subject in Gent. Mag, 177J, p. 470.

Let me not, for ,

I went on Saturday last to make a visit in . wise men, who were lovers of their country, to make their fellow-citizens undergo the tediousness and fatigues of a long siege. I think there is a kind of homage due to fortune, if I may call it so, and that I should be wanting to myself, if I did not lay in my pretences to her favour, and pay my compliments to her by recommending a ticket to her disposal. For this reason, upon my return to my lodgings, I sold off a couple of globes and a telescope, which, with the cash I had by me, raised the sum that was requisite for that purpose. I find by my calculations, that it is but a hundred and fifty thousand to one, against my being worth a thousand pounds per annurn for thirty-two years; and if any plumb in the city will lay me a hundred and fifty thousand pounds to twenty shillings, which is an even bet, that I am not this fortunate man, I will take the wager, and shall look upon him as a man of singular courage and fair dealing; having given orders to Mr. Morphew to subscribe such a policy in my be. half, if any person accepts of the offer. I must confess, I have had such private intimations from the twinkling of a certain star in some of my astronomical observations, that I should be unwilling to take fifty pounds a year for my chance, unless it were to oblige a particular friend. My chief business at present is, to prepare my mind for this change of fortune: for, as Seneca, who was a greater moralist, and a much richer man than I shall be with this addition to my present income, says, Munera ista Fortunae putatis 2 Insidiae sunt. “What we look upon as gifts and presents of fortune, are traps and snares which she lays for the unwary.' I am arming myself against her favours with all my philosophy; and, that I may not lose myself in such a redundance of unnecessary and superfluous wealth, I have determined to settle an annual pension out of it upon a family of Palatines, and by that means give these unhappy strangers a taste of British property. At the same time, as I have an excellent servantmaid, whose diligence in attending me has increased, in proportion to my infirmities, I shall settle upon her the revenue arising out of the ten pounds, and amounting to fourteen shillings per annum; with which she may retire into Wales, where she was born a gentlewoman, and pass the remaining part of her days in a condition suitable to her birth and quality. It was impossible for me to make an inspection into my own fortune on this occasion, without seeing, at the same time, the fate of others who are embarked in the same adventure. And indeed it was a great pleasure to me to observe, that the war, which generally impoverishes those who furnish out the expense of it, will, by this means, give estates to some, without making others the poorer for it. I have lately seen several in liveries, who will give as good of their own very suddenly; and took a particular satisfaction in the sight of a young country-wench, whom I this morning passed by as she was whirling her mop, with her petticoats tucked up very agreeably, who, if there is any truth in my art, is within ten months of being the handsomest great fortune in town. I must confess, I was so struck with the foresight of


what she is to be, that I treated her accordingly, and said to her, ‘Pray, young lady, permit me to pass by.' I would for this reason advise all masters and mistresses, to carry it with great moderation and condescension towards their servants until next Michaelmas, lest the superiority at that time should be inverted. I must likewise admonish all my brethren and fellow-adventurers, to fill their minds with proper arguments for their support and consolation in case of ill success. It so happens in this particular, that though the gainers will have reason to rejoice, the losers will have no reason to complain. I remember the day after the thousand pound prize was drawn in the penny-lottery,” I went to visit a splenetic acquaintance of mine, who was under much dejection, and seemed to me to have suffered some great disappointment. Upon inquiry, I found he had put two-pence for himself and his son into the lottery, and that neither of them had drawn the thousand pounds. IIereupon this unlucky person took occasion to enumerate the misfortunes of his life, and concluded with telling me, ‘that he never was successful in any of his undertakings.' I was forced to comfort him with the common reflection upon such occasions, ‘that men of the greatest merit are not always men of the greatest success, and that persons of his character, must not expect to be as happy as fools.' I shall proceed in the like manner with my rivals and competitors for the thousand pounds a-year, which we are now in pursuit of ; and, that I may give general content to the whole body of candidates, I shall allow all that draw prizes to be fortunate, and all that miss them to be wise.

I must not here omit to acknowledge, that I have received several letters upon this subject, but find one common error running through them all, which is, that the writers of them believe their fate in these cases depends upon the astrologer, and not upon the stars; as in the following letter from one, who, I fear, flatters himself with hopes of success which are altogether groundless, since he does not seem to me so great a fool as he takes himself to be.

‘SIR,-Coming to town, and finding my friend Mr. Partridge dead and buried, and you the only conjuror in repute, I am under a necessity of applying myself to you for a favour, which, nevertheless, I confess it would better become a friend to ask, than one who is, as I am, altogether a stranger to you ; but poverty, you know, is impudent; and as that gives me the occasion, so that alone could give me the confidence to be thus importunate.

‘I am, sir, very poor, and very desirous to be otherwise: I have got ten pounds, which I design to venture in the lottery now on foot. What I desire of you is, that by your art you will choose such a ticket for me as shall arise a benefit sufficient to maintain me. I must beg leave to inform you that I am good for nothing, and must therefore insist upon a larger lot than would satisfy those who are capable,

* This penny-lottery seems to have been a private undertaking, not warranted by act of parliament, or intended to raise any part of the public revcılue.

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