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is one circumstance which makes my case very par- have done when she had it, there will be no great ticular; the ugliest fellow that ever pretended to diminution of her charms; and if she was forme, was and is most in my favour, and he treats merly affected too much with them, an easy behame at present the most unreasonably. If you viour will more than make up for the loss of them. could make him return an obligation which he Take the whole sex together, and you find those owes me, in liking a person that is not amiable-who have the strongest possession of men's hearts But there is, I fear, no possibility of making pas- are not eminent for their beauty. You see it often sion move by the rules of reason and gratitude. happen, that those who engage men to the greatest But say what you can to one who has survived violence, are such as those who are strangers to herself, and knows not how to act in a new being. them would take to be remarkably defective for My lovers are at the feet of my rivals, my rivals that end. The fondest lover I know, said to me are every day bewailing me, and I cannot enjoy one day in a crowd of women at an entertainwhat I am, by reason of the distracting reflec- ment of music, 'You have often heard me talk of tion upon what I was. Consider, the woman I my beloved: that woman there,' continued he, was did not die of old age, but I was taken off smiling, when he had fixed my eye,' is her very in the prime of youth, and according to the course picture.' The lady he showed me was by much of nature may have forty years after-life to come. the least remarkable for beauty of any in the I have nothing of myself left, which I like, but whole assembly; but having my curiosity extremely raised, I could not keep my eyes off her. 'I am, SIR, Her eyes at last met mine, and with a sudden surprise she looked round her to see who near her was remarkably handsome that I was gazing at. She did not This little act explained the secret. understand herself for the object of love, and therefore she was so. The lover is a very honest plain man; and what charmed him was, a person that goes along with him in the cares and joys of life, not taken up with herself, but sincerely attentive, with a ready and cheerful mind, to accom


"Your most humble servant,

When Lewis of France had lost the battle of Ramilies, the addresses to him at that time were full of his fortitude; and they turned his misfortune to his glory; in that, during his prosperity, he could never have manifested his heroic constancy under distresses, and so the world had lost the most eminent part of his character. Parthe-pany him in either. nissa's condition gives her the same opportunity: and to resign conquests is a task as difficult in a beauty as an hero. In the very entrance upon this work she must burn all her love-letters; or, since she is so candid as not to call her lovers, who follow her no longer, unfaithful, it would be a very good beginning of a new life from that of a beauty, to send them back to those who writ them, with this honest inscription, Articles of a marriage treaty broken off by the small-pox.' I have known but one instance where a matter of this kind went on after a like misfortune, where the lady, who was a woman of spirit, writ this billet

to her lover:


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IF you flattered me before I had this terrible malady, pray come and see me now: but, if you sincerely liked me, stay away; for I am not the



I can tell Parthenissa for her comfort, that the beauties, generally speaking, are the most impertinent and disagreeable of women. An apparent desire of admiration, a reflection upon their own merit, and a precise behaviour in their general conduct, are almost inseparable accidents in beauty. All you obtain of them, is granted to importunity and solicitation for what did not deserve so much of your time, and you recover from the possession of it as out of a dream.

You are ashamed of the vagaries of fancy which so strangely misled you, and your admiration of a beauty, merely as such, is inconsistent with a tolerable reflection upon yourself. The cheerful good-bumoured creatures, into whose heads it never entered that they could make any man unhappy, are the persons formed for making men happy. There is Miss Liddy can dance a jig, raise paste, write a good hand, keep an account, give a reasonable answer, and do as she is bid; while her eldest sister, Madam Martha, is out of humour, has the spleen, learns by reports of people of higher quality new ways of being uneasy and dis

The lover thought there was something so spright- pleased. And this happens for no reason in the ly in her behaviour, that he answered:

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world, but that poor Liddy knows she has no such thing as a certain negligence that is so becoming; that there is not I know not what in her air; and that if she talks like a fool, there is no one will

say, Well! I know not what it is, but every thing pleases when she speaks it.'

Ask any of the husbands of your great beauties, and they will tell you that they hate their wives nine hours of every day they pass together. There is such a particularity for ever affected by them, that they are encumbered with their charms in all they say or do. They pray at public devotions as they are beauties. They converse on ordinary occasions as they are beauties. Ask Belinda what it is o'clock, and she is at a stand whether so great a beauty should answer you. In a word, I think, instead of offering to administer consolation to Parthenissa, I should congratulate her metamorphosis; and however she thinks she was not in the least insolent in the prosperity of her charms, she

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studies, his utmost pains and application, assisted by the ablest masters, will be to no purpose.

He illustrates this by the example of Tully's son Marcus.

'Cicero, in order to accomplish his son in that sort of learning which he designed him for, sent him to Athens, the most celebrated academy at that time in the world, and where a vast concourse, out of the most polite nations, could not but furnish the young gentleman with a multitude of great examples and accidents that might insensibly have instructed him in his designed studies. He placed him under the care of Cratippus, who was one of the greatest philosophers of the age; and, as if all the books which were at that time written had not been sufficient for his use, he composed others on purpose for him: notwithstanding all this, history informs us that Marcus proved a mere blockhead, and that nature (who it seems was even with the son for her prodigality to the father) rendered him incapable of improving by all the rules of eloquence, the precepts of philosophy, his own endea

N° 307. THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 21, 1711-12. vours, and the most refined conversation in Athens.

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THOUGH I believe none of your readers more admire your agreeable manner of working up trifles than myself, yet as your speculations are now swelling into volumes, and will in all probability pass down to future ages, methinks I would have no single subject in them, wherein the general good of mankind is concerned, left unfinished.

I have a long time expected with great impatience that you would enlarge upon the ordinary mistakes which are committed in the education of our children. I the more easily flattered myself that you would one time or other resume this consideration, because you tell us that your 168th paper was only composed of a few broken hints; but finding myself hitherto disappointed, I have ventured to send you my own thoughts on this subject.

I remember Pericles, in his famous oration at the funeral of those Athenian young men who perished in the Samian expedition, has a thought very much celebrated by several ancient critics, namely, that the loss which the commonwealth suffered by the destruction of its youth, was like the loss which the year would suffer by the destruction of the spring. The prejudice which the public sustains from a wrong education of children, is an evil of the same nature, as it in a manner starves posterity, and defrauds our country of those persons who, with due care, might make an eminent figure in their respective posts of life.

'I have seen a book written by Juan Huartes, a Spanish physician, entitled Examen de Ingenios wherein he lays it down as one of his first positions, that nothing but nature can qualify a man for learning; and that without a proper temperament for the particular art or science which he

There is an English translation under the title of 'The Trial of Wits,' ovo.

This author therefore proposes, that there should be certain triers or examiners appointed by the state, to inspect the genius of every particular boy, and to allot him the part that is most suitable to his natural talents.

'Plato, in one of his dialogues, tells us, that Socrates, who was the son of a midwife, used to say, that as his mother, though she was very skilful in she was first with child, so neither could he himself her profession, could not deliver a woman unless raise knowledge out of a mind where nature had not planted it.

Accordingly, the method this philosopher took, of instructing his scholars by several interrogatories or questions, was only helping the birth, and bringing their own thoughts to light.

speculations grew more refined, asserts, that every The Spanish doctor above mentioned, as his kind of wit has a particular science corresponding As to those geniuses which may seem to have an to it, and in which alone it can be truly excellent. equal aptitude for several things, he regards them as so many unfinished pieces of nature wrought of in haste.

has been so unkind, that they are not capable of 'There are indeed but very few to whom nature shining in some science or other. There is a cer tain bias towards knowledge in every mind, which may be strengthened and improved by proper ap plications.

The story of Clavius is very well known. He ing been tried at several parts of learning, wa was entered in a college of Jesuits, and, after hav upon the point of being dismissed as an hopeless blockhead, until one of the fathers took it into bis which, it seems, hit his genius so luckily, that he head to make an essay of his parts in geometry, afterwards became one of the greatest mathemati cians of the age. It is commonly thought that the sagacity of the fathers, in discovering the tale af of a young student, has not a little contributed to the figure which their order has made in the world.

How different from this manner of education a

that which prevails in our own country! where nothing is more usual than to see forty or fifty boys of several ages, tempers, and inclinations, ranged

• Christopher Clavius, a German jesuit, distrogushed br his mathematical knowledge, and employed by Gregory Xiak in the reformation of the calendar, was author of üve volunm in folio, and died at Rome in 1612, aged 75.

together in the same class, employed upon the same authors, and enjoined the same tasks! Whatever their natural genius may be, they are all to be made poets, historians, and orators alike. They are all obliged to have the same capacity, to bring in the same tale of verse, and to furnish out the same portion of prose. Every boy is bound to have as good a memory as the captain of the form. To be brief, instead of adapting studies to the particular genius of a youth, we expect from the young man that he should adapt his genius to his studies. This, I must confess, is not so much to be imputed to the instructor, as to the parent, who will never be brought to believe, that his son is not capable of performing as much as his neighbour's, and that he may not make him whatever he has a mind to.

'If the present age is more laudable than those which have gone before it in any single particular, it is in that generous care which several well-disposed persons have taken in the education of poor children; and as in these charity-schools there is no place left for the overweening fondness of a parent, the directors of them would make them beneficial to the public, if they considered the precept which I have been thus long inculcating. They might easily, by well examining the parts of those under their inspection, make a just distribution of them into proper classes and divisions, and allot to them this or that particular study, as their genius qualifies them for professions, trades, handicrafts, or service by sea or land.

'How is this kind of regulation wanting in the three great professions!

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'I GIVE you this trouble in order to propose myself to you as an assistant in the weighty cares which you have thought fit to undergo for the public good. I am a very great lover of women, that is to say, honestly; and as it is natural to study what one likes, I have industriously applied myself to understand them. The present circumstance relating to them is, that I think there wants under you, as Spectator, a person to be distinguished and vested in the power and quality of a censor on marriages +. lodge at the Temple, and know, by seeing women come hither, and afterwards observing them conducted by their counsel to judges' chambers, that there is a custom in case of making conveyance of a wife's estate, that she is carried to a judge's apartment, and left alone with him, to be examined in private, whether she has not been frightened or sweetened by her spouse into the act she is going to do, or whether it is of her own free will. Now if this be a method founded upon reason and equity, why should there not be also a proper officer for examining such as are entering into the state of matrimony, whether they are forced by parents on one side, or moved by interest only on the other, to come together, and bring forth such awkward heirs as are the product of half love and constrained compliances? There is no body, though I say it myself, would be fitter for this office than I am: for I am an ugly fellow, of great wit and sagacity. My father was an hale country squire, my mother a witty beauty of no To descend lower, are not our streets filled fortune. The match was made by consent of my with sagacious draymen, and politicians in liveries! mother's parents against her own, and I am the We have several tailors of six foot high, and meet child of the rape on the wedding-night; so that I with many a broad pair of shoulders that are thrown am as healthy and as homely as my father, but as away upon a barber, when perhaps at the same sprightly and agreeable as my mother. It would time we see a pigmy porter reeling under a burden, be of great ease to you, if you would use me under who might have managed a needle with much dex-you, that matches might be better regulated for the terity, or have snapped his fingers with great ease to himself, and advantage to the public.

Dr. South, complaining of persons who took upon them holy orders, though altogether unqualified for the sacred function, says somewhere, that many a man runs his head against a pulpit, who might have done his country excellent service at a plough-tail.

In like manner many a lawyer, who makes but an indifferent figure at the bar, might have made a very elegant waterman, and have shined at the Temple-stairs, though he can get no business in the house.

'I have known a corn-cutter, who with a right education would have been an excellent physician.

The Spartans, though they acted with the spirit which I am here speaking of, carried it much further than what I propose. Among them it was not lawful for the father himself to bring up his children after his own fancy. As soon as they were seven years old, they were all listed in several companies, and disciplined by the public. The old men were spectators of their performances, who often raised quarrels among them, and set them at strife with one another, that by those early discoveries they might see how their several talents lay, and, without any regard to their quality, disposed of them accordingly, for the service of the commonwealth. By this means Sparta soon became the mistress of Greece, and famous through the whole world for her civil and military discipline.

If you think this letter deserves a place among

future, and we might have no more children of squabbles. I shall not reveal all my pretensions. till I receive your answer; and am,

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articles she was to have her apartment new fur-
nished as often as she lay-in. Nothing in our house
is useful but that which is fashionable; my pewter
holds out generally half a year, my plate a full
twelvemonth; chairs are not fit to sit in that were
made two years since, nor beds fit for any thing
but to sleep in, that have stood up above that time.
My dear is of opinion that an old-fashioned grate
consumes coals, but gives no heat. If she drinks
out of glasses of last year, she cannot distinguish
wine from small beer. Oh, dear sir, you may guess
all the rest.
⚫ Yours.

'P. S. I could bear even all this, if I were not obliged also to eat fashionably. I have a plain stomach, and have a constant loathing of whatever comes to my own table; for which reason I dine at the chop-house three days in a week; where the good company wonders they never see you of late. I am sure, by your unprejudiced discourses, you love broth better than soup.'


brought down upon us the whole body of the Trots,
which are very numerous, with their auxiliaries the
Hobblers and the Skippers, by which means the
time is so much wasted, that, unless we break all
rules of government, it must redound to the utter
subversion of the brag-table, the discreet members
of which value time as Fribble's wife does her
pin-money *. We are pretty well assured that
your indulgence to Trot was only in relation to
country-dances; however we have deferred the is
suing an order of council upon the premises, hoping
to get you to join with us, that Trot, nor any of
his clan, presume for the future to dance any but
country-dances, unless a hornpipe upon a festival
day. If you will do this, you will oblige a great
many ladies, and particularly
Your most humble servant,

York, Feb. 16.'

I NEVER meant any other than that Mr. Trot should confine himself to country-dances. And I further direct, that he shall take out none but his own relations, according to their nearness of blood, but any gentlewoman may take out him. 'London, Feb. 21.' 'THE SPECTATOR.'



Will's, Feb. 19. You may believe you are a person as much talked of as any man in town. I am one of your best friends in this house, and have laid a wager, you are so candid a man, and so honest a fellow, that you will print this letter, though it is in recommendation of a new paper called The Historian. N° 309. SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 23, 1711-12 I have read it carefully, and find it written with skill, good sense, modesty, and fire. You must allow the town is kinder to you than you deserve; and I doubt not but you have so much sense of the world's change of humour, and instability of all human things, as to understand, that the only way to preserve favour is to communicate it to others with good-nature and judgment. You are so generally read, that what you speak of will be read. This with men of sense and taste, is all that is wanting to recommend The Historian.

'I am, SIR,
'Your daily advocate,


I was very much surprised this morning, that any one should find out my lodging, and know it so well, as to come directly to my closet-door, and knock at it, to give me the following letter. When I came out I opened it, and saw, by a very strong pair of shoes and a warm coat the bearer had on, that he walked all the way to bring it me, though dated from York. My misfortune is that I cannot talk, and I found the messenger had so much of me, that he could think better than speak. He had, I observed, a polite discerning, hid under a shrewd rusticity. He delivered the paper with a Yorkshire tone and a town leer.


THE privilege you have indulged John Trot has proved of very bad consequence to our illustrious assembly, which, besides the many excellent maxims it is founded upon, is remarkable for the extraordinary decorum always observed in it. One instance of which is, that the carders (who are always of the first quality) never begin to play till the French dances are finished, and the country dances begin: but John Trot having now got your commission in his pocket (which every one here has a profound respect for), has the assurance to set up for a minuet-dancer. Not only so, but he has

• See N 296.

Di, quibus imperium est animarum, umbræque silentes,
Et Chaos, et Phlegethon, loca nocte silentia late:
Sit mihi fas audita loqui! sit numine vestro
Pandere res alta terra et caligine mersas.

VIRG. Æn. vi. ver. 264.

Ye realms yet unreveal'd to human sight,
Ye gods who rule the regions of the night,
Ye gliding ghosts, permit me to relate
The mystic wonders of your silent state.

I HAVE before observed in general, that the per
sons whom Milton introduces into his poem always
discover such sentiments and behaviour as are in a
peculiar manner conformable to their respective
characters. Every circumstance in their speeches
and actions is with great justice and delicacy
adapted to the persons who speak and act. As the
poet very much excels in this consistency of biy
characters, I shall beg leave to consider several
passages of the second book in this light. That
superior greatness and mock-majesty which is
ascribed to the prince of the fallen angels, is ad-
mirably preserved in the beginning of this book.
His opening and closing the debate; his taking on
himself that great enterprise, at the thought of
which the whole infernal assembly trembled; his
encountering the hideous phantom who guarded
the gates of hell, and appeared to him in all his
terrors; are instances of that proud and daring
mind which could not brook submission, even to

⚫ Satan was now at hand, and from his seat
The monster moving onward came as fast
With horrid strides, hell trembled as he strode;
Th' undaunted fiend what this might be admur'd,
Adinir'd, not fear'd----

The same boldness and intrepidity of behaviour discovers itself in the several adventures which he meets with during his passage through the regions of unformed matter, and particularly in his address to those tremendous powers who are described as presiding over it.

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of Moloch is likewise, in all its circum1 of that fire and fury which distinguish From the rest of the fallen angels. He is n the first book as besmeared with the uman sacrifices, and delighted with the rents, and the cries of children. In the k he is marked out as the fiercest spirit in heaven: and if we consider the figure makes in the sixth book, where the battle Is is described, we find it every way anthe same furious, enraged character:

Where the might of Gabriel fought, fierce ensigns pierc'd the deep array cb, furious king, who him defy'd, is chariot-wheels to drag him bound 'd, nor from the Holy One of heav'n his tongue blasphemous: but anon ven to the waist, with shatter'd arms uth pain fled bellowing.

who, while he was in heaven, is said to have had
his mind dazzled with the outward pomps and glo.
ries of the place, and to have been more intent on
the riches of the pavement than on the beatific vi-
sion. I shall also leave the reader to judge how
agreeable the following sentiments are to the same
This deep world

Of darkness do we dread? How oft amidst
Thick clouds and dark doth heav'n's all-ruling sire
Choose to reside, his glory unobscured,
And with the majesty of darkness round
Covers his throne; from whence deep thunders roar
Mustering their rage, and heav'n resembles hell!

As he our darkness, cannot we his light
Imitate when we please? This desert soil
Wants not her hidden lustre, gems and gold;
Nor want we skill or art, from whence to raise
Magnificence; and what can heav'n show more?'

Beelzebub, who is reckoned the second in digbe worth while to observe, that Milton nity that fell, and is in the first book the second nted this violent impetuous spirit, who that awakens out of the trance, and confers with on by such precipitate passions, as the Satan upon the situation of their affairs, maintains ses in that assembly, to give his opinion his rank in the book now before us. There is a wonderful majesty described in his rising up to present posture of affairs. Accordingly, himself abruptly for war, and appears speak. He acts as a kind of moderator between his companions for losing so much time the two opposite parties, and proposes a third undeliberate upon it. All his sentiments dertaking, which the whole assembly gives into. udacious, and desperate. Such is that The motion he makes of detaching one of their hemselves with their tortures, and turn-body in search of a new world is grounded upon a project devised by Satan, and cursorily proposed punishments upon him who inflicted by him in the following lines of the first book:

No, let us rather choose,

ith hell-flames and fury, all at once en's high towers to force resistless way, our tortures into horrid arms

he tort'rer; when to meet the noise nighty engine he shall hear

thunder, and for lightning see

= and horror shot with equal rage is angels; and his throne itself

th Tartarean sulphur, and strange fire, invented torments.

erring annihilation to shame or misery, ly suitable to his character; as the comws from their disturbing the peace of at if it be not victory it is revenge, is a ruly diabolical, and becoming the bitthis implacable spirit.

described in the first book, as the idol d and luxurious. He is in the second ant to that description, characterised as nd slothful; and if we look into the sixth find him celebrated in the battle of anthing but that scoffing speech which he Satan, on their supposed advantage over As his appearance is uniform, and of these three several views, we find his in the infernal assembly every way cono his character. Such are his apprehensecond battle, his horrors of annihilareferring to be miserable, rather than . I need not observe, that the contrast in this speech, and that which precedes agreeable variety to the debate. n's character is so fully drawn in the that the poet adds nothing to it in the We were before told, that he was the aught mankind to ransack the earth for silver, and that he was the architect of nium, or the infernal palace, where the were to meet in council. His speech in is every way suitable to so depraved a How proper is that reflection, of their able to taste the happiness of heaven actually there, in the mouth of one,

'Space may produce new worlds, whereof so rife
There went a fame in heav'n, that he ere-long
Intended to create, and therein plant

A generation, whom his choice regard
Should favour equal to the sons of heav'n;
Thither, if but to pry, shall be perhaps
Our first eruption, thither or elsewhere:
For this infernal pit shall never hold
Celestial spirits in bondage, nor th' abyss
Long under darkness cover. But these thoughts
Full counsel must mature:

It is on this project that Beelzebub grounds his proposal:

What if we find

Some easier enterprise? There is a place
(If ancient and prophetic fame in heav'n
Err not) another world, the happy seat
Of some new race call'd Man, about this time
To be created like to us, though less
In power and excellence, but favour'd more
Of him who rules above; so was his will
Pronounc'd among the gods, and by an oath,
That shook heav'n's whole circumference, confirm'd.'

The reader may observe how just it was, not to omit in the first book the project upon which the whole poem turns; as also that the prince of the fallen angels was the only proper person to give it birth, and that the next to him in dignity was the fittest to second and support it.

There is besides, I think, something wonderfully beautiful, and very apt to affect the reader's imagination in this ancient prophecy or report in heaven, concerning the creation of man. Nothing could show more the dignity of the species, than this tradition which ran of them before their existence. They are represented to have been the talk of heaven before they were created. Virgil, in compliment to the Roman commonwealth, makes the heroes of it appear in their state of pre-existence; but Milton does a far greater honour to mankind in general, as he gives us a glimpse of them even before they are in being,

The rising of this great assembly is described in a very sublime aud poetical manner :

'Their rising all at once was as the sound
Of thunder heard remote-

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