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bows itself in its greatest beauty, as the several gures in a piece of painting receive new grace rom their disposition in the picture. The advanges of a reader from a methodical discourse are orrespondent with those of the writer. He comrehends every thing easily, takes it in with pleaire, and retains it long.

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Method is not less requisite in ordinary converition than in writing, provided a man would talk › make himself understood. I, who hear a thouand coffee-house debates every day, am very senble of this want of method in the thoughts of my Onest countrymen. There is not one dispute in which is managed in those schools of politics, here, after the three first sentences, the question not entirely lost. Our disputants put me in mind the scuttle-fish, that when he is unable to extrite himself, blackens all the water about him til he becomes invisible. The man who does not now how to methodize his thoughts, has always, borrow a phrase from the Dispensary, A barA superfluity of words;' the fruit is lost amidst e exuberance of leaves. Tom Puzzle is one of the most immethodical disitants of any that has fallen under my observa0. Tom has read enough to make him very pertinent; his knowledge is sufficient to raise Dubts, but not to clear them. It is pity that he 1s so much learning, or that he has not a great al more. With these qualifications Tom sets up r a free-thinker, finds a great many things to ame in the constitution of his country, and gives rewd intimations that he does not believe another orld. In short, Puzzle is an atheist as much as > parts will give him leave. He has got about ilf a dozen common-place topics, into which he ever fails to turn the conversation, whatever was e occasion of it. Though the matter in debate be Dout Douay or Denain, it is ten to one but half s discourse runs upon the unreasonableness of gotry and priesteraft. This makes Mr. Puzzle | e admiration of all those who have less sense an himself, and the contempt of all those who ave more. There is none in town whom Tom reads so much as my friend Will Dry. Will, who acquainted with Tom's logic, when he finds him aning off the question, cuts him short with a What then? We allow all this to be true; but hat is it to our present purpose?' I have known om eloquent half an hour together, and triumphg, as he thought, in the superiority of the arguent, when he has been nonplussed on a sudden y Mr. Dry's desiring him to tell the company hat it was that he endeavoured to prove. In ort, Dry is a man of a clear methodical bead, ut few words, and gains the same advantage over Puzzle, that a small body of regular troops would ain over a numberless undisciplined militia.

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HAVING lately read your essay on the Pleasures of the Imagination *, I was so taken with your thoughts upon some of our English gardens, that I cannot forbear troubling you with a letter upon that subject. I am one, you must know, who am looked upon as an humorist in gardening. I have several acres about my house, which I call my garden, and which a skilful gardener would not know what to call. It is a confusion of kitchen and parterre, orchard and flower garden, which lie so mixed and interwoven with one another, that if a foreigner, who had seen nothing of our country, should be conveyed into my garden at his first landing, he would look upon it as a natural wilderness, and one of the uncultivated parts of our country. My flowers grow up in several parts of the garden in the greatest luxuriancy and profesion. I am so far from being fond of any particalar one, by reason of its rarity, that if I meet with any one in a field which pleases me, I give it a place in my garden. By this means, when a stranger walks with me, he is surprised to see several large spots of ground covered with ten thousand different colours, and has often singled out flowers that he might have met with under a common hedge, in a field, or in a meadow, as some of the greatest beauties of the place. The only method I observe in this particular, is, to range in the same quarter the products of the same season, that they may make their appearance together, and compose a picture of the greatest variety. There is the same irregularity in my plantations, which run into as great a wildness as their natures will permit. I take in none that do not naturally rejoice in the soil; and am pleased, when I am walking in a labyrinth of my own raising, not to know whether the next tree I shall meet with is an apple, or an oak, an elm, or a pear-tree. My kitchen has likewise its particular quarters assigned it; for, besides the wholesome luxury which that place abounds with, I have always thought a kitchen garden a more pleasant sight than the finest orangery or artificial green-house. I love to see every thing in its perfection; and am more pleased to survey my rows of coleworts and cabbages, with a thousand nameless pot-herbs, springing up in their full fragrancy and verdure, than to see the tender plants of foreign countries kept alive by artificial heats, or withering in an air and soil that are not adapted to them. I must not omit, that there is a fountain rising in the upper part of my garden, which forms a little wandering rill, and administers to the pleasure as well as the plenty of the place. I have so conducted it, that it visits most of my plantations; and have taken particular care to let it run in the same manner as it would do in an

See N° 411 421.

those beauties that at this time may be every when
met with; but when nature is in her desolation
and presents us with nothing bat bleak and barm
prospects, there is something unspeakably cheerfu
in a spot of ground which is covered with trees
that smile amidst all the rigour of winter, and
us a view of the most gay season in the midst m'
that which is the most dead and melancholy. I
have so far indulged myself in this thought, that i
have set apart a whole acre of ground for the ess
cuting of it. The walls are covered with ivem
stead of vines. The laurel, the horn-beam,
the holly, with many other trees and plants of t
same nature, grow so thick in it that you ca
of the berries, with which they are hung at th
time, vies with the verdure of their leaves, and a
apt to inspire the heart of the beholder with
vernal delight which you have somewhere taken
tice of in your former papers *. It is very pleas
at the same time, to see the several kinds of bes
retiring into this little green spot, and eujo =
themselves among the branches and foliage, w
my great garden, which I have before mentxart
to you, does not afford a single leaf for the
shelter.

open field, so that it generally passes through banks | of violets and primroses, plats of willow, or other plants, that seem to be of its own producing, There is another circumstance in which I am very particular, or, as my neighbours call me, very whimsical: as my garden invites into it all the birds of the country, by offering them the conveniency of springs and shades, solitude and shelter, I do not suffer any one to destroy their nests in the spring, or drive them from their usual haunts in fruit-time; I value my garden more for being full of blackbirds than cherries, and very frankly give them fruit for their songs. By this means I have always the music of the season in its perfection, and am highly delighted to see the jay or the thrush hop-imagine a more lively scene. The glowing red ping about my walks, and shooting before my eyes across the several little glades and alleys that I pass through. I think there are as many kinds of gardening as of poetry; your makers of parterres and flower-gardens are epigrammatists and sonneteers in this art; contrivers of bowers and grottos, treillages and cascades, are romance writers. Wise and London are our heroic poets; and if, as a critic, I may single out any passage of their works to commend, I shall take notice of that part in the upper garden at Kensington, which was at first nothing but a gravel pit. It must have been a fine 'You must know, sir, that I look upon the pis genius for gardening that could have thought of sure which we take in a garden as one of the mo forming such an unsightly hollow into so beautiful innocent delights in human life. A garden w an area, and to have hit the eye with so uncom- the habitation of our first parents before the fal mon and agreeable a scene as that which it is now It is naturally apt to fill the mind with cale wrought into. To give this particular spot of and tranquillity, and to lay all its turbulent pa ground the greater effect, they have made a very sions at rest. It gives us a great insight inte t pleasing contrast; for as on one side of the walk | contrivance and wisdom of Providence, af you see this hollow bason, with its several little suggests innumerable subjects for meditation, plantations, lying so conveniently under the eye of cannot but think the very complacency and the beholder; on the other side of it there appears faction which a man takes in these works of naxa seeming mount, made up of trees rising one to be a laudable, if not a virtuous, habit of a higher than another, in proportion as they ap- For all which reasons I hope you will pardon proach the centre. A spectator, who has not length of my present letter. heard this account of it, would think this circular 'I am, mount was not only a real one, but that it had been actually scooped out of that hollow space which I have before mentioned. I never yet met with any one, who has walked in this garden, who was not struck with that part of it which I have here mentioned. As for myself, you will find, by the account which I have already given you, that my compositions in gardening are altogether after the Pindaric manner, and run into the beautiful wildness of nature, without affecting the nicer elegancies of art. What I am now going to mention will, perhaps, deserve your attention more than any thing I have yet said. I find that, in the discourse which I spoke of at the beginning of my letter, you are against filling an English garden with evergreens; and indeed I am so far of your opinion, that I can by no means think the verdure of an evergreen comparable to that which shoots out annually, and clothes our trees in the summer season. But I have often wondered that those who are like myself, and love to live in gardens, have never thought of contriving a winter garden, which would consist of such trees only as never cast their leaves. We have very often little snatches of sunshine and fair weather in the most uncomfortable parts of the year, and have frequently several days in November and January that are as agreeable as any in the finest months. At such times, therefore, I think there could not be a greater pleasure than to walk in such a winter garden as I have proposed. In the summer season the whole country blooms, and is a kind of garden; for which reason we are not so sensible of

ADDISON.

SIR, &c.

N° 478. MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 8, 1712

Quem penes arbitrium est, et jus et nu?” IS ———————
HOR. A Puct ver *.

Fashion, the arbiter, and rule of right.

'MR. SPECTATOR,

IT happened lately, that a friend of mise, .. had many things to buy for his family, would ode me to walk with him to the shops. He was nice in his way, and fond of having every 195 shown, which at first made me very uneasy; bes as his humour still contioned, the things wht 1 had been staring at along with him began to : my head, and led me into a set of amusing thong) concerning them.

'I fancied it must be very surprising to sax who enters into a detail of fashions, to co*- ** how far the vanity of mankind has laid itself es in dress, what a prodigious number of propse / maintains, and what a circulation of toner it 10 casions. Providence in this case makes use of ve folly which we will not give up, and it bec instrumental to the support of those who are wi to labour. Hence it is that fringe-makers, la.

• No 393.

men, tire-women, and a number of other trades, which would be useless in a simple state of nature, draw their subsistence; though it is seldom seen that such as these are extremely rich, because their original fault of being founded upon vanity keeps them poor by the light inconstancy of its nature. The variableness of fashion turns the stream of business, which flows from it, now into one channel, and anon into another; so that the different sets of people sink or flourish in their turns by it. From the shops we retired to the tavern, where I found my friend express so much satisfaction for the bargains he had made, that my moral reflections (if I had told them) might have passed for a reproof; so I chose rather to fall in with him, and let the discourse run upon the use of fashions. 'Here we remembered how much man is governed by his senses, how livelily he is struck by the obects which appear to him in an agreeable maner, how much clothes contribute to make us greeable objects, and how much we owe it to urselves that we should appear so *.

'We considered man as belonging to societies; ocieties as formed of different ranks distinguished y habits, that all proper duty or respect might Itend their appearance.

'We took notice of several advantages which re met with in the occurrences of conversation : ow the bashful man has been sometimes so raised, s to express himself with an air of freedom, then he imagines that his habit introduces him to ompany with a becoming manner; and again, how fool in fine clothes shall be suddenly heard with ttention, till he has betrayed himself; whereas a an of sense, appearing with a dress of neglience, shall be but coldly received, till he be roved by time, and established in a character. uch things as these we could recollect to have appened to our own knowledge so very often, at we concluded the author had his reasons, ho advises his son to go in dress rather above his ortune than under it.

'At last the subject seemed so considerable, that was proposed to have a repository built for fations, as there are chambers for medals and other rities. The building may be shaped as that hich stands among the pyramids, in the form of a oman's head. This may be raised upon pillars hose ornaments shall bear a just relation to the esign. Thus there may be an imitation of fringe arved in the base, a sort of appearance of lace in e frieze, and a representation of curling locks, ith bows of ribbon sloping over them, may fill p the work of the cornish. The inside may be ivided into two apartments appropriated to each x. The apartments may be filled with shelves, a which boxes are to stand as regularly as books a library. These are to have folding-doors, Thich, being opened, you are to behold a baby § | ressed out in some fashion which has flourished, nd standing upon a pedestal, where the time of 3 reign is marked down. For its further regulaion, let it be ordered, that every one who invents fashion shall bring in his box, whose front he may t pleasure have either worked or painted with ome amorous or gay device, that, like books with ilded leaves and covers, it may the sooner draw eyes of the beholders. And to the end that hese may be preserved with all due care, let there

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be a keeper appointed, who shall be a gentleman qualified with a competent knowledge in clothes; so that by this means the place will be a 'comfortable support for some beau who has spent his estate in dressing.

'The reasons offered, by which we expected to gain the approbation of the public, were as follows:

First, That every one who is considerable enough to be a mode, and has any imperfection of nature or chance, which it is possible to hide by the advantage of clothes, may, by coming to this repository, be furnished herself, and furnish all who are under the same misfortune, with the most agreeable manner of concealing it; and that, on the other side, every one, who has any beauty in face or shape, may also be furnished with the most agreeable manner of showing it.

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Secondly, That whereas some of our young gentlemen, who travel, give us great reason to suspect that they only go abroad to make or improve a fancy for dress, a project of this nature may be a means to keep them at home, which is in effect the keeping of so much money in the kingdom. And perhaps the balance of fashion in Europe, which now leans upon the side of France, may be so altered for the future, that it may become as common with Frenchmen to come to England for their finishing stroke of breeding, as it has been for Englishmen to go to France for it.

Thirdly, Whereas several great scholars, who might have been otherwise useful to the world, have spent their time in studying to describe the dresses of the ancients from dark hints, which they are fain to interpret and support with much learning; it will from henceforth happen, that they shall be freed from the trouble, and the world from useless volumes. This project will be a registry, to which posterity may have recourse, for the clearing such obscure passages as tend that way in authors; and therefore we shall not for the future submit ourselves to the learning of etymology, which might persuade the age to come, that the farthingale was worn for cheapness, or the furbelow for warmth.

Fourthly, Whereas they, who are old themselves, have often a way of railing at the extravagance of youth, and the whole age in which their children live; it is hoped that this ill-humour will be much suppressed, when we can have recourse to the fashions of their times, produce them in our vindication, and be able to show, that it might have been as expensive in Queen Elizabeth's time only to wash and quill a ruff, as it is now to buy cravats or neck handkerchiefs.

'We desire also to have it taken notice of, that because we would show a particular respect to foreigners, which may induce them to perfect their breeding here in a knowledge which is very proper for pretty gentlemen, we have conceived the motto for the house in the learned language. There is to be a picture over the door, with a looking-glass and a dressing chair in the middle of it: then on one side are to be seen, above one another, patchboxes, pin-cushions, and little bottles; on the other powder-bags, puffs, combs, and brushes; beyond these, swords with fine knots, whose points are hidden, and fans almost closed, with the handles downward, are to stand out interchangeably from the sides, till they meet at the top, and form a semicircle over the rest of the figures: beneath all, the writing is to run in this pretty sounding manner;

"Adeste, O quotquot sunt, Veneres, Gratia, Cupidines,

En vobis adsunt in promptu

Faces, vincula, spicula;

Hinc eligite, sumite, regile."

"All ye Venus's, Graces, and Cupids, attend:
See, prepared to your hands,
Darts, torches, and bands:

Your weapons here choose, and your empire extend." 'I am, SIR,

"Your most humble servant,

A. B.'

The proposal of my correspondent I cannot but look upon as an ingenious method of placing persons (whose parts make them ambitious to exert themselves in frivolous things) in a rank by themselves. In order to this, I would propose that there be a board of directors of the fashionable society; and, because it is a matter of too much weight for a private man to determine alone, I should be highly obliged to my correspondents if they would give in lists of persons qualified for this trust. If the chief coffee-houses, the conversations of which places are carried on by persons, each of whom has his little number of followers and admirers, would name from among themselves two or three to be inserted, they should be put up with great faithfulness. Old beaux are to be presented in the first place; but as that sect, with relation to dress, is almost extinct, it will, I fear, be absolutely necessary to take in all time-servers, properly so deemed; that is, such as, without any conviction of conscience, or view of interest, change with the world, and that merely from a terror of being out of fashion. Such also, who from facility of temper and too much obs quiousness, are vicious against their will, and follow leaders whom they do not approve, for want of courage to go their own way, are capable persons for this superintendency. Those who are loth to grow old, or would do any thing contrary to the course and order of things, out of fondness to be in fashion, are proper candidates. To conclude, those who are in fashion without apparent merit, must be supposed to have latent qualities, which would appear in a post of direction: and therefore are to be regarded in forming these lists. Any, who shall be pleased according to these, or what further qualifications may occur to himself, to send a list, is desired to do it within fourteen days after this date.

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To regulate the matrimonial life. MANY are the epistles I every day receive from husbands who complain of vanity, pride, but, above all, ill-nature in their wives. I cannot tell how it is, but I think I see in all their letters that the cause of their uneasiness is in themselves; and indeed I have hardly ever observed the married condition unhappy, but for want of judgment or temper in the man. The truth is, we generally make love in a style, aud with sentiments, very unfit for

ordinary life: they are half theatrical, half mantic. By this means we raise our imaginatio to what is not to be expected in human life; an because we did not beforehand think of the cr% ture we are enamoured of, as subject to dishur age, sickness, impatience, or sullenness, but a gether considered her as the object of joy : nature itself is often imputed to her as her pur cular imperfection, or defect.

I take it to be a rule proper to be observed all occurrences of life, but more especially is 3o domestic, or matrimonial part of it, to presen always a disposition to be pleased. This cant be supported but by considering things in right light, and as Nature has formed then, a not as our own fancies and appetites would me them. He then who took a young lady to bab with no other consideration than the experta of scenes of dalliance, and thought of her said before) only as she was to admicister to de gratification of desire; as that desire the, vi without her fault, think her charms and ber ur. abated; from hence must follow indifference, like, peevishness, and rage. But the man v brings his reason to support his passion, data holds what he loves, as liable to all the cale of human life both in body and mind, and ev the best what must bring upon him new cares, .. new relations; such a lover, I say, will form is self accordingly, and adapt bis mind to the of his circunstances. This latter person w prepared to be a father, a friend, an advoca steward for people yet unborn, and has proper. fections ready for every incident in the ma state. Such a man can hear the cries of chl with pity instead of anger; and, when they over his head, he is not disturbed at their t but is glad of their mirth and health. Tom T has told me, that he thinks it doubles his attents to the most intricate affair he is about, to bra?? children, for whom all his cares are applied, L a noise in the next room: on the other side, " Sparkish cannot put on his periwig, or a ja cravat at the glass, for the noise of those can.” urses, and squalling brats; and then ends w. gallant reflection upon the comforts of matr. runs out of the hearing, and drives to the ch late-house.

According as the husband is disposed in him every circumstance of his life is to give bia ta ment, or pleasure. When the affection placed, and supported by the considerations duty, honour, and friendship, which are in highest degree engaged in this alliance, there ca nothing rise in the common course of life, or f the blows or favours of fortune, in which a will not find matters of some delight wakuowa a single condition.

He who sincerely loves his wife and family, studies to improve that affection in himself, em ceives pleasure from the most indiferest while the married man, who has not bid adirum the fashions and false gallantries of the town, perplexed with every thing around him. I these cases men cannot, indeed, make a sli gure, than in repeating such pleasures and to the rest of the world; but I speak of thers a as they sit upon those who are involved in the As I visit all sorts of people, I cannot ieder smile, when the good lady tells her husband w extraordinary things the child spoke out. No longer than yesterday I was prevaded with to go home with a food husband, 42. ** wife told him, that his son, of his own bead, s

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he clock in the parlour struck two, said papa would come home to dinner presently. While the ather has him in a rapture in his arms, and is rowning him with kisses, the wife tells me he is ut just four years old. Then they both struggle or him, and bring him up to me, and repeat his bservation of two o'clock. was called upon, y looks upon the child, and then at me, to say mething; and I told the father that this remark f the infant of his coming home, and joining the me with it, was a certain indication that he would e a great historian and chronologer. They are either of them fools, yet received my compliment ith great acknowledgment of my prescience. I red very well at dinner, and heard many other table sayings of their heir, which would have ven very little entertainment to one less turned reflection than I was: but it was a pleasing

dren!' Upon occurrences of distress, or danger, can comfort himself, But all this while my wife and children are safe.' There is something in it that doubles satisfactions, because others participate them; and dispels afflictions, because others are exempt from them. All who are married without this relish of their circumstance, are in either a tasteless indolence and negligence which is hardly to be attained, or else live in the hourly repetition of sharp answers, eager upbraidings, and distracting reproaches. In a word, the married state, with and without the affection suitable to it, is the completest image of heaven and hell we are capable of receiving in this life*.

STEELE.

Responsare cupidinibus, contemnere honores,
Fortis, et in seipso totus teres, atque rotundus.

T.

HOR. Sat. vii. 1. 2. ver. Sẽ.

Who's proof against the charms of vain delight:
Whom feeble fortune strives in vain to wound,
So closely gather'd in a perfect round.

CREECH.

eculation to remark on the happiness of a life, N°480. WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 10, 1712. which things of no moment give occasion of pe, self-satisfaction, and triumph. On the other aid, I have known an ill-natured coxcomb, who is hardly improved in any thing but bulk, for ant of this disposition, silence the whole family a set of silly women and children, for recounting ings which were really above his own capacity. When I say all this, I cannot deny but there are erverse jades that fall to men's lots, with whom requires more than common proficiency in philophy to be able to live. When these are joined men of warm spirits, without temper or learng, they are frequently corrected with stripes; it one of our famous lawyers* is of opinion, that is cught to be used sparingly; as I remember, ose are his very words: but as it is proper to raw some spiritual use out of all afflictions, 1 ould rather recommend to those who are visited ith women of spirit, to form themselves for the orld by patience at home. Socrates, who is by I accounts the undoubted head of the sect of the n-pecked, owned and acknowledged that he wed great part of his virtue to the exercise which s useful wife constantly gave it. There are se eral good instructions may be drawn from his ise answers to people of less fortitude than himIf on her subject. A friend, with indignation, sked how so good a man could live with so viont a creature? He observed to him, that they I HAVE from your own hand (inclosed under the ho learn to keep a good seat on horseback, mount cover of Mr. Eucrate, of your majesty's bed-chamber) a letter which invites me to court. I underhe least manageable they can get; and, when they stand this great honour to be done me out of reave mastered them, they are sure never to be disspect and inclination to me, rather than regard to omposed on the backs of steeds less restive. At everal times, to different persons, on the same your own service: for which reasons I beg leave abject, he has said, My dear friend, you are beto lay before your majesty my reasons for declinolden to Xantippe, that I bear so well your fly-ing to depart from home: and will not doubt but, as your motive in desiring my attendance was to ng out in a dispute.' To another, My hen clacks make me an happier man, when you think that ery much, but she brings me chickens. They that will not be effected by my remove, you will permit ive in a trading street are not disturbed at the passage of carts.' I would have, if possible, a wise ine to stay where I am. Those who have an amnan be contented with his lot, even with a shrew;bition to appear in courts, have ever an opinion or though he cannot make her better, he may, you ee, make himself better by her means.

THE other day, looking over those oid manuscripts of which I have formerly given some account, and which relate to the character of the mighty Pharamond of France, and the close friendship between him and his friend Eucrate+, I found among the letters which had been in the custody of the latter an epistle from a country gentleman to Pharamond, wherein he excuses himself from coming to court. The gentleman, it seems, was contented with his condition, had formerly been in the king's service; but at the writing the following letter had, from leisure and reflection, quite another sense of things than that which he had in the more active part of his life.

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Monsieur Chezluy to Pharamond,

6 DREAD SIR,

formed for the service or ornament of that place; that their persons, or their talents, are particularly But instead of pursuing my design of displayor else are hurried by downright desire of gain, or what they call honour, or take upon themselves ing conjugal love in its natural beauties and attractions, I am got into tales to the disadvantage of whatever the generosity of their master can give that state of life. I must say, therefore, that I am But your goodthem opportunities to grasp at. ness shall not be thus imposed upon by me: I will verily persuaded that whatever is delightful in human life, to be enjoyed in greater perfection in therefore confess to you, that frequent solitude, the married, than in the single condition. He that and long conversation with such who know no arts has this passion in perfection, in occasions of joy,ture in your dominions. Those less capacities of which polish life, have made me the plainest creacan say to himself, besides his own satisfaction, How happy will this make my wife and chil. moving with a good grace, bearing a ready afla

Bracton. See the first paragraph of No 482.

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