that I have very little regard to their month on the lower part of the sex, who raillery, I shall be glad to see them all at act without disguise, are very visible. It The Amorous Widow, or The Wanton is at this time that we see the young Wife, which is to be acted for the benefit wenches in a country-parish dancing round of Mrs. Porter, on Monday the 28th instant. a May-pole, which one of our learned anI assure you I can laugh at an amorous tiquaries supposes to be a relick of a cerwidow, or wanton wife, with as little tempt-tain pagan worship that I do not think fit ation to imitate them, as I could at any to mention. other vicious character. Mrs. Porter It is likewise on the first day of this obliged me so very much in the exquisite month that we see the ruddy milk-maid sense she seemed to have of the honourable exerting herself in a most sprightly mansentiments and noble passions in the cha- ner under a pyramid of silver tankards, racter of Hermione, that I shall appear in and, like the virgin Tarpeia,* oppressed her behalf at a comedy, though I have no by the costly ornaments which her benegreat relish for any entertainments where factors lay upon her. the mirth is not seasoned with a certain severity, which ought to recommend it to people who pretend to keep reason and authority over all their actions. I am, sir, your frequent reader, T. 'ALTAMIRA.' No. 365.] Tuesday, April 29, 1712. Vere magis, quia vere calor redit ossibus ADAPTED. Flush'd by the spirit of the genial year, I need not mention the ceremony of the green gown, which is also peculiar to this gay season. The same periodical love-fit spreads through the whole sex, as Mr. Dryden well observes in his description of this merry month. 'For thee, sweet month, the groves green liv'ries wear, For thee the graces lead the dancing hours, Accordingly, among the works of the great masters in painting, who have drawn this genial season of the year, we often observe Cupids confused with Zephyrs, flyTHE author of the Menagiana acquaints ing up and down promiscuously in several us, that discoursing one day with several ladies of quality about the effects of the parts of the picture. I cannot but add month of May, which infuses a kindly time of the year love-letters come up to from my own experience, that about this warmth into the earth, and all its inhabit-me in great numbers, from all quarters of ants, the marchioness of S -, who was the nation. one of the company, told him, that though she would promise to be chaste in every month besides, she could not engage for herself in May. As the beginning therefore of this month is now very near, I design this paper for a caveat to the fair sex, and publish it before April is quite out, that if any of them should be caught tripping, they may not pretend they had not timely notice. I am induced to this, being persuaded the above-mentioned observation is as well calculated for our climate as that of France, and that some of our British ladies are of the same constitution with the French marchioness. I shall leave it among physicians to determine what may be the cause of such an anniversary inclination; whether or no it is that the spirits, after having been as it were frozen and congealed by winter, are now turned loose and set a rambling; or, that the gay prospects of fields and meadows, with the courtship of the birds in every bush, naturally unbend the mind, and soften it to pleasure; or that, as some have imagined, a woman is prompted by a kind of instinct to throw herself on a bed of flowers, and not to let those beautiful couches which nature has provided lie useless. However it be, the effects of this VOL. II. 11 last post from a Yorkshire gentleman, who I received an epistle in particular by the makes heavy complaints of one Zelinda, whom it seems he has courted unsuccessfully these three years past. He tells me that he designs to try her this May; and if he does not carry his point, he will never think of her more. Having thus fairly admonished the female sex, and laid before them the dangers they are exposed to in this critical month, I shall directions for the better avoiding those in the next place lay down some rules and calentures which are so very frequent in this season. In the first place, I would advise them the company of a parent, a guardian, or never to venture abroad in the fields, but in before shown how apt they are to trip in some other sober discreet person. I have the flowery meadow; and shall further observe to them, that Proserpine was out a-maying when she met with that fatal adVenture to which Milton alludes when he mentions -That fair field Of Enna, where Proserpine gath'ring flowers, * T. Livii Hist. Dec. 1. lib. i. cap. xi. In the second place, I cannot but approve those prescriptions which our astrofogical physicians give in their almanacks for this month: such as are a spare and simple diet, with a moderate use of phlebotomy.' Since I am going into quotations, I shall | That devotion to his mistress kindles in his conclude this head with Virgil's advice to mind a general tenderness, which exerts young people while they are gathering itself towards every object as well as his wild strawberries and nosegays, that they fair one. When this passion is represented should have a care of the snake in the by writers, it is common with them to engrass.' deavour at certain quaintnesses and turns of imagination, which are apparently the work of a mind at ease; but the men of true taste can easily distinguish the exertion of a mind which overflows with tender sentiments, and the labour of one which is only describing distress. In performances of this Under this head of abstinence I shall also kind, the most absurd of all things is to be advise my fair readers to be in a particular witty; every sentiment must grow out of manner careful how they meddle with ro- the occasion, and be suitable to the circummances, chocolate, novels, and the like stances of the character. Where this rule inflamers, which I look upon as very dan-is transgressed, the humble servant in all gerous to be made use of during this great carnival of nature. As I have often declared that I have nothing more at heart than the honour of my dear country-women, I would beg them to consider, whenever their resolutions begin to fail them, that there are but one-andthirty days of this soft season, and if they can but weather out this one month, the rest of the year will be easy to them. As for that part of the fair sex who stay in town, I would advise them to be particularly cautious how they give themselves up to their most innocent entertainments. If they cannot forbear the playhouse, I would recommend tragedy to them rather than comedy; and should think the puppet-show much safer for them than the opera, all the while the sun is in Gemini. The reader will observe, that this paper is written for the use of those ladies who think it worth while to war against nature in the cause of honour. As for that abandoned crew, who do not think virtue worth contending for, but give up their reputation at the first summons, such warnings and premonitions are thrown away upon them. A prostitute is the same easy creature in all months of the year, and makes no difference between May and December. No. 366.] Wednesday, April 30, 1712. Pone me pigris ubi nulla campis X. Dulce loquentem. Her. Od. xxii. Lib. 1. 17. To see the chariot of the sun So near the scorching country run; The burning zone, the frozen isles, Shall bear me sing of Celia's smiles; Roscommon. THERE are such wild inconsistencies in the thoughts of a man in love, that I have often reflected there can be no reason for allowing him more liberty than others possessed with phrenzy, but that his distemper has no malevolence in it to any mortal. the fine things he says, is but showing his mistress how well he can dress, instead of saying how well he loves. Lace and drapery is as much a man, as wit and turn is passion. 'MR.SPECTATOR,-The following verses are a translation of a Lapland love-song, which I met with in Scheffer's history of that country. I was agreeably surprised to find a spirit of tenderness and poetry in a region which I never suspected for delicacy. In hotter climates, though altogether uncivilized, I had not wondered if I had found some sweet wild notes among the natives, where they live in groves of oranges, and hear the melody of the birds about them. But a Lapland lyric, breathing sentiments of love and poetry, not unworthy old Greece or Rome; a regular ode from a climate pinched with frost, and cursed with darkness so great a part of the year; where it is amazing that the poor natives should get food, or be tempted to propagate their species-this, I confess, seemed a greater miracle to me than the famous stories of their drums, their winds, and enchantments. 'I am the bolder in commending this northern song, because I have faithfully kept to the sentiments, without adding or diminishing; and pretend to no greater praise from my translation, than they who smooth and clean the furs of that country which have suffered by carriage. The numbers in the original are as loose and unequal as those in which the British ladies sport their Pindarics; and perhaps the fairest of them might not think it a disagreeable present from a lover. But I have ventured to bind it in stricter measures, as being more proper for our tongue, though perhaps wilder graces may better suit the genius of the Laponian language. It will be necessary to imagine that the author of this song, not having the liberty of visiting his mistress at her father's house, was in hopes of spying her at a distance in her fields. "Thou rising sun, whose gladsome ray Oh! were I sure my dear to view, I'd climb that pine tree's topmost bough, My Orra Moor, where art thou laid? Oh! could I ride the clouds and skies, My bliss too long my bride denies, Not storms, or night shall keep me here. What may for strength with steel compare? No longer then perplex thy breast; 'April the 10th. -Perituræ parcite charte.-Juv. Sat. i. 18. In mercy spare us when we do our best I HAVE often pleased myself with considering the two kinds of benefits which accrue to the public from these my speculations, and which, were I to speak after the manner of logicians, I would distinguish into the material and the formal. By the latter I understand those advantages which my readers receive, as their minds are either improved or delighted by these my daily labours; but having already several times descanted on my endeavours in this light, I shall at present wholly confine myself to the consideration of the former. By the word material, I mean those benefits which arise to the public from these my speculations, as they consume a considerable quantity of our paper-manufacture, employ our artisans in printing, and find business for great numbers of indigent persons. Our paper-manufacture takes into it several mean materials which could be put to no other use, and affords work for several hands in the collection of them which are incapable of any other employment. Those poor retailers, whom we see so busy in every street, deliver in their respective gleanings to the merchant. The merchant carries them in loads to the paper-mill, where they pass through a fresh set of hands, and give life to another trade. Those who have mills on their estate, by this means considerably raise their rents, and the whole nation is in a great measure supplied with a manufacture for which formerly she was obliged to her neighbours. MR. SPECTATOR,-I am one of those despicable creatures called a chambermaid, and have lived with a mistress for some time, whom I love as my life, which has made my duty and pleasure inseparable. My greatest delight has been in being employed about her person; and indeed she is very seldom out of humour for a woman of her quality. But here lies my complaint, sir. To bear with me is all the encouragement she is pleased to bestow upon me; for she gives her cast-off clothes from me to others; some she is pleased to bestow in the house to those that neither want nor wear them, and some to hangers-on, that frequent the house daily, who come dressed out in them. This, sir, is a very mortifying sight to me, who am a little necessitous for clothes, and love to appear what I am; and causes an uneasiness, so that I cannot serve with that cheerfulness as formerly; which my mistress takes notice of, and calls envy and ill-temper, at seeing others preferred before me. My mistress has a younger sister The materials are no sooner wrought lives in the house with her, that is some into paper, but they are distributed among thousands below her in estate, who is conti- the presses, when they again set innumenually heaping her favours on her maid; so rable artists at work, and furnish business that she can appear every Sunday, for the to another mystery. From hence, accordfirst quarter, in a fresh suit of clothes of ingly as they are stained with news and her mistress's giving, with all other things politics, they fly through the town in Postsuitable. All this I see without envying, men, Post-boys, Daily Courants, Reviews, but not without wishing my mistress would Medleys, and Examiners. Men, women, a little consider what a discouragement it and children contend who shall be the first is to me to have my perquisites divided be- bearers of them, and get their daily sustentween fawners and jobbers, which others ance by spreading them. In short, when I enjoy entire to themselves. I have spoken trace in my mind a bundle of rags to a quire to my mistress, but to little purpose; I of Spectators, I find so many hands em have desired to be discharged (for indeed I ployed in every step they take through fret myself to nothing,) but that she an- their whole progress, that while I am swers with silence. I beg, sir, your direc-writing a Spectator, I fancy myself protion what to do, for I am fully resolved to viding bread for a multitude. If I do not take care to obviate some of my witty readers, they will be apt to tell me, that my paper, after it is thus printed and published, is still beneficial to the public on several occasions. I must confess I have lighted my pipe with my own works for this twelvemonth past. My landlady often sends up her little daughter to desire some of my old Spectators, and has frequently told me, that the paper they are printed on is the best in the world to wrap spices in. They likewise made a good foundation for a mutton pie, as I have more than once experienced, and were very much sought for last Christmas by the whole neighbourhood. which has passed through the hands of one of the most accurate, learned, and judicious writers this age has produced. The beauty of the paper, of the character, and of the several cuts with which this noble work is illustrated, makes it the finest book that I have ever seen; and is a true instance of the English genius, which, though it does not come the first into any art, generally carries it to greater heights than any other country in the world. I am particularly glad that this author comes from a British printing-house in so great a magnificence, as he is the first who has given us any tolerable account of our country. My illiterate readers, if any such there are, will be surprised to hear me talk of learning as the glory of a nation, and of printing as an art that gains a reputation to a people among whom it flourishes. When men's thoughts are taken up with avarice and ambition, they cannot look upon any thing as great or valuable which does not bring with it an extraordinary power or interest to the person who is concerned in it. But as I shall never sink this paper so far as to engage with Goths and Vandals, I shall only regard such kind of reasoners with that pity which is due to so deplorable a degree of stupidity and ignorance. L It is pleasant enough to consider the changes that a linen fragment undergoes by passing through the several hands above mentioned. The finest pieces of Holland, when worn to tatters, assume a new whiteness more beautiful than the first, and often return in the shape of letters to their native country. A lady's shift may be metamorphosed into billets-doux, and come into her possession a second time. A beau may peruse his cravat after it is worn out, with greater pleasure and advantage than ever he did in a glass. In a word, a piece of cloth, after having officiated for some years as a towel or a napkin, may by this means be raised from a dunghill, and become the most valuable piece of furni-No. 368.] Friday, May 2, 1712. ture in a prince's cabinet. -Nos decebat Earip, apud Tuli When first an infant draws the vital air. The politest nations of Europe have endeavoured to vie with one another for the reputation of the finest printing. Absolute governments, as well as republics, have encouraged an art which seems to be the noblest and most beneficial that ever was invented among the sons of men. The present king of France, in his pursuits after glory, has particularly distinguished himself by the promoting of this useful art, insomuch that several books have been printed in the Louvre at his own expense, upon which he sets so great a value that he considers them as the noblest presents he can make to foreign princes and ambassadors. If we look into the commonwealths of Holland and Venice, we shall find that in this particular they have made themselves the envy of the Paris, April 18, 1712. greatest monarchies. Elzevir and Aldus are 'SIR,-It is so many years since you left more frequently mentioned than any pen-your native country, that I am to tell you sioner of the cne or doge of the other. of news from the natural world, as others As the Spectator is, in a kind, a paper are from the busy and politic part of mankind, I shall translate the following letter, written to an eminent French gentleman in this town from Paris, which gives us the exit of a heroine who is a pattern of patience and generosity. the characters of your nearest relations as The several presses which are now in much as if you were an utter stranger to England, and the great encouragement them. The occasion of this is to give you which has been given to learning for some an account of the death of Madam de Vilyears last past, has made our own nation lacerfe, whose departure out of this life I as glorious upon this account as for its late know not whether a man of your philo triumphs and conquests. The new edition sophy will call unfortunate or not, since it which is given us of Cæsar's Commenta- was attended with some circumstances as ries has already been taken notice of in much to be desired as to be lamented. She foreign gazettes, and is a work that does was her whole life happy in an uninterhonour to the English press. It is no won-rupted health, and was always honoured der that an edition should be very correct for an evenness of temper and greatness of mind. On the 10th instant that lady was taken with an indisposition which confined • A most magnificent edition of Cesar's Commenta-her to her chamber, but was such as was ries published about this time, by Dr. Samuel Clarke. till eight of the clock the next night; and though she must have laboured under the most exquisite torments, she possessed her mind with so wonderful a patience, that one may rather say she ceased to breathe, than she died at that hour. You, who had not the happiness to be personally known to this lady, have nothing but to rejoice in the honour you had of being related to so great merit; but we, who have lost her conversation, cannot so easily resign our own happiness by reflection upon hers. I am, sir, your affectionate kinsman, and most obedient humble servant, 'PAUL REGNAUD.' too slight to make her take a sick bed, "While this excellent woman spoke these and yet too grievous to admit of any satis- words, Festeau looked as if he received a faction in being out of it. It is notoriously condemnation to die, instead of a pension known, that some years ago Monsieur Fes--for his life. Madame de Villacerfe lived teau, one of the most considerable surgeons in Paris, was desperately in love with this lady. Her quality placed her above any application to her on the account of his passion: but as a woman always has some regard to the person whom she believes to be her real admirer, she now took it into her head (upon advice of her physicians to lose some of her blood) to send for Monsieur Festeau on that occasion. I happened to be there at that time, and my near relation gave me the privilege to be present. As soon as her arm was stripped bare, and he began to press it, in order to raise the vein, his colour changed, and I observed him seized with a sudden tremor, which made me take the liberty to speak of it to my cousin with some apprehension. She smiled, and said, she knew M. Festeau had no inclination to do her injury. He seemed to recover himself, and, smiling also, proceeded in his work. Immediately after the operation, he cried out, that he was the most unfortunate of all men, for that he had opened an artery instead of a vein. It is as impossible to express the artist's distraction as the patient's composure. I will not dwell on little circumstances, but go on to inform you, that within three days' time it was thought necessary to take off her arm. She was so far from using Festeau as it would be natural for one of a lower spirit to treat him, that she would not let him be absent from any consultation about her present condition; and, after having been about a quarter of an hour alone, she bid the surgeons, of whom poor Festeau was one, go on in their work. I know not how to give you the terms of art, but there appeared such symptoms after the amputation of her arm, that it was visible she could not live four-and-twenty hours. Her behaviour was so magnanimous throughout the whole affair, that I was particularly curious in taking notice of what past as her fate approached nearer and nearer, and took notes of what she said to all about her, particularly word for word what she spoke to M. Festeau, which was as follows: "Sir, you give me inexpressible sorrow for the anguish with which I see you overwhelmed. I am removed to all intents and purposes from the interests of human life, therefore I am to begin to think like one wholly unconcerned in it. I do not consider you as one by whose error I have lost my life; no, you are my benefactor, as you have hastened my entrance into a happy immortality. This is my sense of this accident: but the world in which you live may have thoughts of it to your disadvantage: have therefore taken care to provide for you in my will, and have placed you above what you have to fear from their ill-nature." I There hardly can be a greater instance of a heroic mind than the unprejudiced manner in which this lady weighed this misfortune. The regard of life could not make her overlook the contrition of the unhappy man, whose more than ordinary concern for her was all his guilt. It would certainly be of singular use to human society to have an exact account of this lady's ordinary conduct, which was crowned by so uncommon magnanimity. Such greatness was not to be acquired in the last article; nor is it to be doubted but it was a constant practice of all that is praiseworthy, which made her capable of beholding death, not as the dissolution, but consummation of her life. T. No. 369.] Saturday, May 3, 1712. Segnius irritant animos demissa per aures, MILTON, after having represented in vision the history of mankind to the first great period of nature, despatches the remaining part of it in narration. He has devised a very handsome reason for the angel's proceeding with Adam after this manner; though doubtless the true reason was the difficulty which the poet would have found to have shadowed out so mixed and complicated a story in visible objects. I could wish, however, that the author had done it, whatever pains it might have cost him. To give my opinion freely, I think that the exhibiting part of the history of mankind in vision, and part in narrative, is as if a history-painter should put in colours one half of his subject, and write down the remaining part of it. If Milton's poem flags any where, it is in this narration, where in some places the author has been so attentive to his divinity that he has neglected his poetry. The narration, however, rises very happily on several occa |