BEING a person of insatiable curiosity, I could not forbear going on Wednesday last to a place of no small renown for the gal-frontier of Portugal, for the love of Elizavelled parts abroad, and came last from the lantry of the lower order of Britons, to beth Preston, do assert that the said Elizathe Bear-garden, at Hockley in the Hole; beth is the fairest of women.' Then the where (as a whitish brown paper, put into my hand in the street, informed me) there was to be a trial of skill exhibited between two masters of the noble science of defence, at two of the clock precisely. I was not a little charmed with the solemnity of the challenge which ran thus:

answer; I Timothy Buck, who have staid in Great Britain during all the war in foreign parts, for the sake of Susannah Page, do deny that Elizabeth Preston is so fair as the said Susannah Page. Let Susannah Page look cn, and I desire of James Miller no favour.'

This would give the battle quite another turn; and a proper station for the ladies, whose complexion was disputed by the sword, would animate the disputants with a more gallant incentive than the expectation of money from the spectators; though I would not have that neglected, but thrown to that fair one whose lover was approved by the donor.

if all their lives depended on the first blow. The combatants met in the middle of the stage, and shaking hands, as removing all malice, they retired with much grace to the extremities of it; from whence they immediately faced about, and approached each other, Miller with a heart full of resolution, Buck with a watchful untroubled countenance; Buck regarding principally his own defence, Miller chiefly thoughtful of annoying his opponent. It is not easy to describe the many escapes and imperceptible defences between two men of quick eyes and ready limbs; but Miller's heat laid him open to the rebuke of the calm Buck, by a large cut on the forehead. Much Yet, considering the thing wants such effusion of blood covered his eyes in a moamendments, it was carried with great or-ment, and the huzzas of the crowd under. James Miller came on first, preceded doubtedly quickened the anguish. The by two disabled drummers, to show, I sup- Assembly was divided into parties upon pose, that the prospect of maimed bodies their different ways of fighting; while a did not in the least deter him. There poor nymph in one of the galleries appaascended with the daring Miller a gentle-¡rently suffered for Miller, and burst into a man, whose name I could not learn, with a dogged air, as unsatisfied that he was not principal. This son of anger lowered at the whole assembly, and, weighing himself as he marched round from side to side, with a stiff knee and shoulder, he gave intimations | of the purpose he smothered till he saw the issue of the encounter. Miller had a blue ribbon tied round the sword arm; which ornament I conceive to be the remains of that custom of wearing a mistress's favour on such occasions of old.

Miller is a man of six foot eight inches height, of a kind but bold aspect, well fashioned, and ready of his limbs; and such readiness as spoke his ease in them was obtained from a habit of motion in military exercise.

flood of tears. As soon as his wound was wrapped up, he came on again with a little rage, which still disabled him farther. But what brave man can be wounded into more patience and caution? The next was a warm eager onset, which ended in a decisive stroke on the left leg of Miller. The lady in the gallery, during this second strife, covered her face, and for my part I could not keep my thoughts from being mostly employed on the consideration of her unhappy circumstance that moment, hearing the clashing of swords, and apprehending life or victory concerning her lover in every blow, but not daring to satisfy herself on whom they fell. The wound was exposed to the view of all who could delight in it, and sewed up on the stage. The surly se cond of Miller declared at this time, that he would that day fortnight fight Mr. Buck at the same weapons, declaring himself the master of the renowned Gorman; but Back denied him the honour of that courageous disciple, and asserting that he himself had taught that champion, accepted the challenge.

The expectation of the spectators was now almost at its height; and the crowd pressing in, several active persons thought they were placed rather according to their fortune than their merit, and took it in their heads to prefer themselves from the open area or pit to the galleries. The dispute between desert and property brought many to the ground, and raised others in propor- There is something in nature very unaction to the highest seats by turns, for the countable on such occasions, when we see space of ten minutes, till Timothy Buck the people take a certain painful gratificacame on, and the whole assembly, giving tion in beholding these encounters Is it up their disputes, turned their eyes upon cruelty that administers this sort of delight? the champions. Then it was that every or is it a pleasure which is taken in the exman's affection turned to one or the other ercise of pity? It was, methought, pretty irresistibly. A judicious gentleman near remarkable that the business of the dar me said, I could, methinks, be Miller's being a trial of skill, the popularity did not second, but I had rather have Buck for run so high as one would have expected on mine. Miller had an audacious look, that the side of Buck. Is it that people's passions took the eye; Buck, a perfect composure, have their rise in self-love, and thought that engaged the judgment. Buck came on themselves (in spite of all the courage ther in a plain coat, and kept all his air till the had) liable to the fate of Miller, but could instant of engaging; at which time he un-not so easily think themselves qualified like dressed to his shirt, his arm aderned with | Buck?

a bandage of red riband. No one can de- Tully speaks of this custom with less scribe the sudden concern in the whole horror than one would expect, though he assembly; the most tumultuous crowd in confesses it was much abused in his time, nature was as still and as much engaged as I and seems directly to approve of it under

T.

No. 437.] Tuesday, July 22, 1712.
Tune impune hæc facias? Tune hic homines adolescen-

tulos,

its first regulations, when criminals only | instigation of Flavilla's mother, brought fought before the people. Crudele gladia- about the match for the daughter; and the torum spectaculum et inhumanum nonnullis reputation of this, which is apparently, in videri solet, et haud scio annon ita sit ut point of fortune, more than Flavilla could nunc fit; cum vero sontes ferro depugna- expect, has gained her the visits and frebant, auribus fortasse multa, oculis quidem quent attendance of the crowd of mothers, nulla, poterat esse fortior contra dolorem et who had rather see their children misermortem disciplina." "The shows of gladia- able in great wealth, than the happiest of tors may be thought barbarous and inhu- the race of mankind in a less conspicuous man, and I know not but it is so as now state of life. When Sempronia is so well practised; but in those times when only acquainted with a woman's temper and criminals were combatants, the ear per- circumstances, that she believes marriage haps might receive many better instruc- would be acceptable to her, and advantions, but it is impossible that any thing tageous to the man who shall get her, her which affects our eyes should fortify us so next step is to look out for some one, whose well against pain and death.' condition has some secret wound in it, and wants a sum, yet, in the eye of the world, not unsuitable to her. If such is not easily had, she immediately adorns a worthless fellow with what estate she thinks convenient, and adds as great a share of good humour and sobriety as is requisite. After this is settled, no importunities, arts, and devices, are omitted, to hasten the lady to her happiness. In the general, indeed, she is a person of so strict justice that she marries a poor gallant to a rich wench, and a moneyless girl to a man of fortune. But then she has no manner of conscience in the disparity, when she has a mind to impose a poor rogue for one of an estate: she has no remorse in adding to it, that he is illiterate, ignorant, and unfashioned; but makes these imperfections arguments of the truth of his wealth; and will on such an occasion, with a very grave face, charge the people of condition with negligence in the education of their children. Exception being made the other day against an ignorant booby of her own clothing, whom she was putting off for a rich heir: Madam,' said she, you know there is no making of children, who know they have estates, attend their books.'

Imperitos rerum, eductos libere, in fraudem illicis?
Sollicitando et pollicitando eorum animos lactas?
Ac meretricios amores nuptiis conglutinas?
Ter. And. Act v. Sc. 4.
Shall you escape with impunity: you who lay snares
for young men of a liberal education, but unacquainted
with the world, and by force of importunity and pro-
mises, draw them in to marry harlots?

THE other day passed by me in her chariot a lady with that pale and wan complexion which we sometimes see in young people who are fallen into sorrow, and private anxiety of mind, which antedate age and sickness. It is not three years ago since she was gay, airy, and a little towards libertine in her carriage; but, methought, I easily forgave her that little insolence, which she so severely pays for in her present condition. Flavilla, of whom I am speaking, is married to a sullen fool with wealth. Her beauty and merit are lost upon the dolt, who is insensible of perfection in any thing. Their hours together are either painful or insipid. The minutes she has to herself in his absence are not sufficient to give vent at her eyes, to the grief and torment of his last conversation. This poor creature was sacrificed (with a temper which, under the cultivation of a man of sense, would have made the most agreeable companion) into the arms of this loathsome yoke-fellow by Sempronia. Sempronia is a good lady, who supports herself in an affluent condition, by contracting friendship with rich young widows, and maids of plentiful fortunes at their own disposal, and bestowing her friends upon worthless indigent fellows; on the other side, she ensnares inconsiderate and rash youths of great estates into the arms of vicious women. For this purpose, she is accomplished in all the arts which can make her acceptable at impertinent visits; she knows all that passes in every quarter, and is well acquainted with all the favourite servants, busy-bodies, dependents, and poor relations, of all persons of condition in the whole town. At the price of a good sum of money, Sempronia, by the

Sempronia, by these arts, is loaded with presents, importuned for her acquaintance, and admired by those who do not know the first taste of life, as a woman of exemplary good breeding. But sure to murder and rob are less iniquities, than to raise profit by abuses as irreparable as taking away life; but more grievous as making it lastingly unhappy. To rob a lady at play of half her fortune, is not so ill as giving the whole and herself to an unworthy husband. But Sempronia can administer consolation to an unhappy fair at home, by leading her to an agreeable gallant elsewhere. She then can preach the general condition of all the married world, and tell an unexperienced young woman the methods of softening her affliction, and laugh at her simplicity and want of knowledge, with an 'Oh! my dear, you will know better.'

The wickedness of Sempronia, one would think, should be superlative: but I cannot but esteem that of some parents equal to it: I mean such as sacrifice the greatest endowments and qualifications to base bargains.

A parent who forces a child of a liberal and man deserves the least indulgence imagiingenious spirit into the arms of a clown or nable. It is said, it is soon over; that is, all a blockhead, obliges her to a crime too the mischief he does is quickly despatched, odious for a name. It is in a degree the which, I think, is no great recommendation unnatural conjunction of rational and brutal to favour. I have known one of those goodbeings. Yet what is there so common, as natured passionate men say in a mixed the bestowing an accomplished woman with company, even to his own wife or child, such a disparity? And I could name crowds such things as the most inveterate enemy who lead miserable lives for want of know- of his family would not have spoken, even ledge in their parents of this maxim. That in imagination. It is certain that quick good sense and good-nature always go sensibility is inseparable from a ready untogether. That which is attributed to fools, derstanding; but why should not that good and called good-nature, is only an inability understanding call to itself all its force on of observing what is faulty, which turns, in such occasions, to master that sudden inclimarriage, into a suspicion of every thing as nation to anger? One of the greatest souls such, from a consciousness of that inability. now in the world is the most subject by na'MR. SPECTATOR,-I am entirely of your ture to anger, and yet so famous for a conmales, who affect both the masculine and and command of a man's self. To contain opinion with relation to the equestrian fe- quest of himself this way, that he is the known example when you talk of temper feminine air at the same time; and cannot the spirit of anger, is the worthiest disciforbear making a presentment against another order of them, who grow very nupline we can put ourselves to. When a merous and powerful; and since our lan- frivolous fellow in a passion is to him as man has made any progress this way, a guage is not very capable of good compound words, I must be contented to call contemptible as a froward child. It ought them only "the naked-shouldered." These quiet and peace. When he stands comto be the study of every man, for his own beauties are not contented to make lovers bustible and ready to flame upon every thing wherever they appear, but they must make that touches him, life is as uneasy to himrivals at the same time. Were you to see self as it is to all about him. Syncropius Gatty walk the Park at high mall, you leads, of all men living, the most ridiculous would expect those who followed her and those who met her would immediately draw life; he is ever offending and begging par their swords for her. I hope, sir, you will don. If his man enters the room without provide for the future, that women may begins he-Gentlemen, I ask your par stick to their faces for doing any farther mischief, and not allow any but direct traders in beauty to expose more than the fore-part of the neck, unless you please to allow this after-game to those who are very defective in the charms of the countenance. I can say, to my sorrow, the present practice is very unfair, when to look back is death; and it may be said of our beauties, as a great poet did of bullets,

P. S. Suppose you mended my letter, and made a simile about the "porcupine," but I submit that also."

No. 438.] Wednesday, July 23, 1712.
-Animum rege, qui, nisi paret,
Imperat
-Curb thy soul,
And check thy rage, which must be rul'd or rule.
Creech

Iris a very common expression, that such a one is very good-natured, but very passionate. The expression, indeed, is very good-natured, to allow passionate people so much quarter; but I think a passionate

what he was sent for That blockhead,

don, but servants now-a-days-The wrong plates are laid, they are thrown into the middle of the room: his wife stands by in pain for him, which he sees in her face, and answers as if he had heard all she was thinking:-Why? what the devil! Why don't you take care to give orders in these things?" His friends sit down to a tasteless plenty of every thing, every minute expect sions. In a word, to eat with, or visit Syning new insults from his impertinent pascropius, is no other than going to see him exercise his family, exercise their patience, and his own anger,

It is monstrous that the shame and con

fusion in which this good-natured angry man must needs behold his friends, while he thus lays about him, does not give him so much reflection as to create an amendment. This is the most scandalous disuse of reason imaginable; all the harmless part of him is no more than that of a bull-dog, they are tame no longer than they are not offended. One of these good-natured angry men shall, in an instant, assemble together so many allusions to secret circumstances the families and friends he is acquainted as are enough to dissolve the peace of all with, in a quarter of an hour, and yet the next moment be the best natured man in the world. If you would see passion in its purity, without mixture of reason, behold

it represented in a mad hero, drawn by a mad poet. Nat. Lee makes his Alexander say thus:

Away! begone! and give a whirlwind room, Or I will blow you up like dust! Avaunt! Madness but meanly represents my toil, Eternal discord!

Fury! revenge! disdain and indignation!

lost, and I know not to whom I lent it, it is
so many years ago.' Then, sir, here is the
other volume; I'll send you home that, and
please to pay for both. 'My friend,' re-
plied he, 'canst thou be so senseless as not
to know that one volume is as imperfect in
my library as in your shop?' 'Yes, sir, but

Tear my swol'n breast, make way for fire and tempest.it is you have lost the first volume; and, to
My brain is burst, debate and reason quench'd;
The storm is up, and my hot bleeding heart
Splits with the rack; while passions, like the wind,
Rise up to heav'n, and put out all the stars.'

Every passionate fellow in town talks half
the day with as little consistency, and
threatens things as much out of his power.
The next disagreeable person to the out-
rageous gentleman, is one of a much lower
order of anger, and he is what we commonly
call a peevish fellow. A peevish fellow is
one who has some reason in himself for
being out of humour, or has a natural inca-
pacity for delight, and therefore disturbs all
who are happier than himself with pishes
and pshaws, or other well-bred interjec-
tions, at every thing that is said or done in
his presence. There should be physic
mixed in the food of all which these fellows
eat in good company. This degree of anger
passes, forsooth, for a delicacy of judgment,
that won't admit of being easily pleased;
but none above the character of wearing a
peevish man's livery ought to bear with his
ill manners. All things among men of sense
and condition should pass the censure, and
have the protection of the eye of reason.

be short, I will be paid.' 'Sir,' answered
the chapman, 'you are a young man, your
book is lost; and learn by this little loss to
bear much greater adversities, which you
must expect to meet with.' 'Yes, I'll bear
when I must, but I have not lost now, for I
say you have it, and shall pay me.' 'Friend,
you grow warm; I tell you the book is lost;
and foresee, in the course even of a pros-
perous life, that you will meet afflictions to
make you mad, if you cannot bear this
trifle.' 'Sir, there is, in this case, no need
of bearing, for you have the book." "I say,
sir, I have not the book; but your passion
will not let you hear enough to be informed
that I have it not. Learn resignation of
yourself to the distresses of this life: nay,
do not fret and fume; it is my duty to tell
you that you are of an impatient spirit, and
an impatient spirit is never without woe.'
Was ever any thing like this?' 'Yes, sir,
there have been many things like this: the
loss is but a trifle; but your temper is wan-
ton, and incapable of the least pain; there-
fore let me advise you, be patient, the book
is lost, but do not for that reason lose your-
self."
T.*

No man ought to be tolerated in an habitual humour, whim, or particularity of behaviour, by any who do not wait upon him for bread. Next to the peevish fellow is No. 439.] Thursday, July 24, 1712. the snarler. This gentleman deals mightily in what we call the irony; and as those Hi narrata ferunt alio: mensuraque ficti sort of people exert themselves most against Crescit; et auditis aliquid novus adjicit auctor. those below them, you see their humour Ovid, Met. xii. 57. best in their talk to their servants. 'That Some tell what they have heard, or tales devise; Each fiction still improv'd with added lies. is so like you; You are a fine fellow; Thou art the quickest head-piece;' and the like. OVID describes the palace of Fame as One would think the hectoring, the storm- situated in the very centre of the universe, ing, the sullen, and all the different species and perforated with so many windows as and subordinations of the angry should be gave her the sight of every thing that was cured, by knowing they live only as par- done in the heavens, in the earth, and in doned men; and how pitiful is the condition the sea. The structure of it was contrived of being only suffered! But I am inter-in so admirable a manner, that it echoed rupted by the pleasantest scene of anger, every word which was spoken in the whole and the disappointment of it, that I have compass of nature; so that the palace, says ever known, which happened while I was the poet, was always filled with a confused yet writing, and I overheard as I sat in the hubbub of low, dying sounds, the voices back-room at a French bookseller's. There being almost spent and worn out before they came into the shop a very learned man with arrived at this general rendezvous of an erect solemn air; and, though a person speeches and whispers. of great parts otherwise, slow in under-I consider courts with the same regard to standing any thing which makes against the governments which they superintend, himself. The composure of the faulty man, as Ovid's palace of Fame with regard to and the whimsical perplexity of him that the universe. The eyes of a watchful miwas justly angry, is perfectly new. After nister run through the whole people. There turning over many volumes, said the seller is scarce a murmur or complaint that does to the buyer, Sir, you know I have long asked you to send me back the first volume of French sermons I formerly lent you.' "Sir,' said the chapman, 'I have often looked for it, but cannot find it; it is certainly

* By Steele.

See No. 324, ad finem.

This scene passed in the shop of Mr. Vaillant, now

of Mr. James Payne, in the Strand; and the subject of it was (for it is still in remembrance) a volume of Mas. sillon's Sermons.