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Thus have I endeavoured to improve my understanding, and am desirous to communicate my innocent discoveries to those, who, like me, may distinguish themselves more to advantage by their bodies than their minds. I do not think the pains I have taken in these my studies, thrown away, since by these means, though I am not very valuable, I am however not disagreeable. Would gentlemen but reflect upon what I say, they would take care to make the best of themselves; for I think it intolerable that a blockhead should be a sloven. Though every man cannot fill his head with learning, it is in any one's power to wear a pretty periwig; let him who cannot say a witty thing, keep his teeth white at least; he who hath no knack at writing sonnets, may however have a soft hand; and he may arch his eye-brows, who hath not strength of genius for the mathematics. 'After the conclusion of the peace, we shall undoubtedly have new fashions from France; and I have some reason to think that some particularities in the garb of their abbès may be transplanted hither to advantage. What I find becoming in their dress I hope I may, without the imputation of being popishly inclined, adopt into our habits; but would willingly have the authority of the Guardian to countenance me in this harmless design. I would not hereby assume to myself a jurisdiction over any of our youth, but such as are incapable of improvement any other way. As for the awkward creatures that mind their studies, I look upon them as irreclaimable. But over the afore-mentioned order of men, I desire a commission from you to exercise full authority. Hereby, I shall be enabled from time to time to introduce several pretty oddnesses in the taking and tucking up of gowns, to regulate the dimensions of wigs, to vary the tufts upon caps, and to enlarge or narrow the hems of bands, as I shall think most for the public good.

'I have prepared a treatise against the cravat and berdash,* which I am told is not ill done; and have thrown together some hasty observations upon stockings, which my friends assure me I need not be ashamed of. But I shall not offer them to the public until they are approved of at our female club; which I am the more willing to do, because I am sure of their praise; for they own I understand these things better than they do. I shall herein be very proud of your encouragement; for, next to keeping the university clean, my greatest ambition is to be thought, sir, your most obedient humble servant, 'SIMON SLEEK.'

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dress in flattery, which makes it agreeable, though never so gross: but of all flatterers, the most skilful is he who can do what you like, without saying any thing which argues he does it for your sake; the most winning circumstance in the world being the conformity of manners. I speak of this as a practice necessary in gaining people of sense, who are not yet given up to self-conceit; those who are far gone in admiration of themselves, need not be treated with so much delicacy. The following letter puts this matter in a pleasant and uncommon light: the author of it attacks this vice with an air of compliance, and alarms us against it by exhorting us to it.

To the Guardian.

'SIR,-As you profess to encourage all those who any way contribute to the public good, I flatter myself I may claim your countenance and protection. I am by profession a maddoctor, but of a peculiar kind, not of those whose aim it is to remove frenzies, but one who makes it my business to confer an agreeable madness on my fellow-creatures, for their mutual delight and benefit. Since it is agreed by the philoso phers, that happiness and misery consist chiefly in the imagination, nothing is more necessary to mankind in general than this pleasing delirium, which renders every one satisfied with himself, and persuades him that all others are equally so.

What

I have for several years, both at home and abroad, made this science my particular study, which I may venture to say I have improved in almost all the courts of Europe; and have reduced it into so safe and easy a method, as to practise it on both sexes, of what disposition, age, or quality soever, with success. enables me to perform this great work, is the use of my Obsequium Catholicon, or the Grand Elixir, to support the spirits of human nature. This remedy is of the most grateful flavour in the world, and agrees with all tastes whatever. It is delicate to the senses, delightful in the operation, may be taken at all hours without confinement, and is as properly given at a ball or playhouse as in a private chamber. It restores and vivifies the most dejected minds, corrects and extracts all that is painful in the knowledge of a man's self. One dose of it will instantly disperse itself through the whole animal system, dissipate the first motions of distrust so as never to return, and so exhilirate the brain and rarify the gloom of reflection, as to give the patients a new flow of spirits, a vivacity of behaviour, and a pleasing dependence upon their own capacities.

'Let a person be never so far gone, I advise him not to despair; even though he has been troubled many years with restless reflections, which by long neglect have hardened into settled consideration. Those that have been stung with satire may here find a certain antidote, which infallibly disperses all the remains of poison that has been left in the understanding by bad cures. It fortifies the heart against the rancour of pamphlets, the inveteracy of epigrams, and the mortification of lampoons; as

——ན་་་ ་

has been often experienced by several persons | numerable cures I have performed within twent of both sexes, during the seasons of Tunbridge and the Bath.

'I could, as farther instances of my success, produce certificates and testimonials from the favourites and ghostly fathers of the most eminent princes of Europe: but shall content myself with the mention of a few cures, which I have performed by this my grand universal restorative, during the practice of one month only since I came to this city.

Cures in the month of February, 1713.

'George Spondee, esq. poet, and inmate of the parish of St. Paul's Covent-garden, fell into violent fits of the spleen upon a thin third night. He had been frightened into a vertigo by the sound of cat-calls on the first day; and the frequent hissings on the second made him unable to endure the bare pronunciation of the letter S. I searched into the causes of his distemper; and by the prescription of a dose of my Obsequium, prepared secundum artem, recovered him to his natural state of madness. I cast in at proper intervals the words, Ill taste of the town, Envy of Critics, Bad performance of the actors, and the like. He is so perfectly cured, that he has promised to bring another play upon the stage next winter.

A lady of professed virtue, of the parish of St. James's, Westminster, who hath desired her name may be concealed, having taken offence at a phrase of double meaning in conversation, undiscovered by any other in the company, suddenly fell into a cold fit of modesty. Upon a right application of praise of her virtue, I threw the lady into an agreeable waking dream, settled the fermentation of her blood into a warm charity, so as to make her look with patience on the very gentleman that offended.

'Hilaria, of the parish of St. Giles's in the fields, a coquette of long practice, was, by the reprimand of an old maiden, reduced to look grave in company, and deny herself the play of the fan. In short, she was brought to such melancholy circumstances, that she would sometimes unawares fall into devotion at church. I advised her to take a few innocent freedoms with occasional kisses, prescribed her the exercise of the eyes, and immediately raised her to her former state of life. She on a sudden recovered her dimples, furled her fan, threw round her glances, and for these two Sundays last past has not once been seen in an attentive posture. This, the churchwardens are ready to attest upon oath.

Andrew Terror, of the Middle temple, mohock, was almost induced by an aged bencher of the same house, to leave off bright conversation, and pore over Coke upon Littleton. He was so ill that his hat began to flap, and he was seen one day in the last term at Westminsterhall. This patient had quite lost his spirit of contradiction; I, by the distillation of a few of my vivifying drops in his ear, drew him from his lethargy, and restored him to his usual vivacious misunderstanding. He is at present very easy in his condition.

'I will not dwell upon the recital of the in.

days last past; but rather proceed to exhort a persons of whatever age, complexion, or quality to take as soon as possible of this my intelle tual oil: which, applied at the ear, seizes all th senses with a most agreeable transport, and dis covers its effects, not only to the satisfaction o the patient, but all who converse with, atten upon, or any way relate to him or her that re ceives the kindly infection. It is often admi nistered by chamber-maids, valets, or any th most ignorant domestic; it being one peculia excellence of this my oil, that it is most preva lent, the more unskilful the person is or appear who applies it. It is absolutely necessary fo ladies to take a dose of it just before they tak coach to go a visiting.

'But I offend the public, as Horace said, wher I trespass on any of your time. Give me leave then, Mr. Ironside, to make you a present of a dram or two of my oil; though I have cause to fear my prescriptions will not have the effect upon you I could wish: therefore I do not en deavour to bribe you in my favour by the present of my oil, but wholly depend upon your public spirit and generosity; which, I hope, will recommend to the world the useful endeavours of, sir, your most obedient, most faithful, most devoted, most humble servant and admirer, 'GNATHO.

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No. 12.]

Wednesday, March 25, 1713.

Vel quia nil rectum, nisi quod placuit sibi, ducunt :
Vel quia turpe putant parere minoribus-
Hor. Lib. 2. Ep. i. 34.

IMITATED.
You'd think no fools disgraced the former reign,
Did not some grave examples yet remain,
Who scorn a lad should match his father's skill,
And having once been wrong, will be so still. Pope.

WHEN a poem makes its first appearance in the world, I have always observed that it gives employment to a greater number of critics than any other kind of writing. Whether it be that most men, at some time of their lives, have tried their talent that way, and thereby think they have a right to judge; or whether they imagine, that their making shrewd observations upon the polite arts, gives them a pretty figure; or whether there may not be soine jealousy and caution in bestowing applause upon those who write chiefly for fame. Whatever the reasons be, we find few discouraged by the delicacy and danger of such an undertaking.

I think it certain that most men are naturally

not only capable of being pleased with that which raises agreeable pictures in the fancy, but willing also to own it. But then there are many, who, by false application of some rules ill understood, or out of deference to men whose opinions they value, have formed to themselves certain schemes and systems of satisfaction, and will not be pleased out of their own way. These are not critics themselves, but readers of critics, who, without the labour of perusing authors, are able to give their characters in general; and know just as much of the several species of poetry, as those who read books of geography do of the genius of this or that people or nation. These gentlemen deliver their opinions sententiously, and in general terms; to which it being impossible readily to frame complete answers, they have often the satisfaction of leaving the board in triumph. As young persons, and particularly the ladies, are liable to be led aside by these tyrants in wit, I shall examine two or three of the many stratagems they use, and subjoin such precautions as may hinder candid readers from being deceived thereby.

The first I shall take notice of is an objection commonly offered, viz. 'that such a poem hath indeed some good lines in it, but it is not a regular piece. This, for the most part, is urged by those whose knowledge is drawn from some famous French critics, who have written upon the epic poem, the drama, and the great kinds of poetry, which cannot subsist without great regularity; but ought by no means to be required in odes, epistles, panegyrics, and the like, which naturally admit of greater liberties. The enthusiasm in odes, and the freedom of epistles, is rarely disputed: but I have often beard the poems upon public occasions, written in heroic verse, which I choose to call panegyrics, severely censured upon this account; the reason whereof I cannot guess, unless it be, that because they are written in the same kind of numbers and spirit as an epic poem, they ought therefore to have the same regularity. Now an epic poem consisting chiefly in narration, it necessary that the incidents should be related in the same order that they are supposed to have been transacted. But in works of the abovementioned kind, there is no more reason that such order should be observed, than that an oration should be as methodical as a history. I think it sufficient that the great hints suggested from the subject, be so disposed, that the first may naturally prepare the reader for what follows, and so on; and that their places cannot be changed without disadvantage to the whole. I will add further, that sometimes gentle deviations, sometimes bold, and even abrupt digressions, where the dignity of the subject seems to give the impulse, are proofs of a noble genius; as winding about and returning artfully to the main design are marks of address and dexterity. Another artifice made use of by pretenders to criticism, is an insinuation, that all that is good is borrowed from the ancients.' This is very common in the mouths of pedants, and perhaps in their hearts too; but is often urged by men of no great learning, for reasons very obvious. Now nature being still the same, it is impossible for any modern writer to paint her otherwise

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than the ancients have done. If, for example, I was to describe the general's horse at the battle of Blenheim as my fancy represented such a noble beast, and that description should resemble what Virgil hath drawn for the horse of his hero, it would be almost as ill-natured to urge that I had stolen my description from Virgil, as to reproach the duke of Marlborough for fighting only like Æneas. All that the most exquisite judgment can perform is, out of that great variety of circumstances wherein natural objects may be considered, to select the most beautiful; and to place images in such views and lights as will affect the fancy after the most delightful manner. But over and above a just painting of nature, a learned reader will find a new beauty superadded in a happy imitation of some famous ancient, as it revives in his mind the pleasure he took in his first reading such an author. Such copyings as these give that kind of double delight which we perceive when we look upon the children of a beautiful couple; where the eye is not more charmed with the symmetry of the parts, than the mind by observing the resemblance transmitted from parents to their offspring, and the mingled features of the father and mother. The phrases of holy writ, and allusions to several passages in the inspired writings (though not produced as proofs of doctrine) add majesty and authority to the noblest discourses of the pulpit: in like manner, an imitation of the air of Homer and Virgil, raises the dignity of modern poetry, and makes it appear stately and venerable.

The last observation I shall make at present is upon the disgust taken by those critics, who put on their clothes prettily, and dislike every thing that is not written with ease. I hereby therefore give the genteel part of the learned world to understand, that every thought which is agreeable to nature, and expressed in language suitable to it, is written with ease. There are some things which must be written with strength, which nevertheless are easy. The statue of the gladiator, though represented in such a posture as strains every muscle, is as easy as that of Venus; because the one expresses strength and fury as naturally as the other doth beauty and softness. The passions are sometimes to be roused, as well as the fancy to be entertained; and the soul to be exalted and enlarged, as well as soothed. This often requires a raised and figurative style; which readers of low apprehensions, or soft and languid dispositions (having heard of the words, fustian and bombast) are apt to reject as stiff and affected language. But nature and reason appoint different garbs for different things; and since I write this to the men of dress, I will ask them if a soldier who is to mount a breach, should be adorned like a beau, who is spruced up for a ball?

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whole family of the Lizards, except the younger sons. These are the branches which ordinarily spread themselves, when they happen to be hopeful, into other houses, and new generations, as honourable, numerous, and wealthy, as those from whence they are derived. For this reason it is, that a very peculiar regard is to be had to their education.

tleness is what peculiarly distinguishes him from other men, and it runs through all his words and actions.

Mr. William, the next brother, is not of this smooth make, nor so ready to accommodate himself to the humours and inclinations of other men, but to weigh what passes with some severity. He is ever searching into the first springs

of the adversary; and when each has proposed the decision of the matter, by any whom the other should name, he has taken hold of the occasion, and put on the authority assigned by them both, so seasonably, that they have begun a new correspondence with each other, fortified by his friendship to whom they both owe the value they have for one another, and conseYoung men, when they are good for any quently, confer a greater measure of their goodthing, and left to their own inclinations, delight will upon the interposer. I must repeat, that either in those accomplishments we call their above all, my young man is excellent at raising exercise, in the sports of the field, or in letters. the subject on which he speaks, and casting a Mr. Thomas, the second son, does not follow light upon it more agreeable to his company, any of these with too deep an attention, but than they thought the subject was capable of. took to each of them enough never to appear He avoids all emotion and violence, and never ungraceful or ignorant. This general inclina-is warm, but on an affectionate occasion. Gention makes him the more agreeable, and saves him from the imputation of pedantry. His carriage is so easy, that he is acceptable to all with whom he converses; he generally falls in with the inclination of his company, is never assuming, or prefers himself to others. Thus he always gains favour without envy, and has every man's good wishes. It is remarkable, that from his birth to this day, though he is now four-and-and causes of any action or circumstance, inso. twenty, I do not remember that he has ever had a debate with any of his play-fellows or friends. His thoughts, and present applications are to get into a court life; for which, indeed, I cannot but think him peculiarly formed; for he has joined to this complacency of manners a great natural sagacity, and can very well distinguish between things and appearances. That way of life, wherein all men are rivals, demands great circumspection to avoid controversies arising from different interests; but he who is by nature of a flexible temper has his work half done. I have been particularly pleased with his behaviour towards women: he has the skill, in their conversation, to converse with them as a man would with those from whom he might have expectations, but without making requests. I do not know that I ever heard him make what they call a compliment, or be particular in his address to any lady; and yet I never heard any woman speak of him but with a peculiar regard. I believe he has been often beloved, but know not that he was ever yet a lover. The great secret among them, is to be amiable without design. He has a voluble speech, a vacant countenance, and easy action, which represents the fact which he is relating with greater delight than it would have been to have been present at the transaction which he recounts. For you see it not only your own way by the bare narration, but have the additional pleasure of his sense of it, by this manner of representing it. There are mixed in his talk so many pleasant ironies, that things which deserve the severest language are made ridiculous instead of odious, and you see every thing in the most good-natured aspect it can bear. It is wonderfully entertaining to me to hear him so exquisitely pleasant, and never say an ill-natured thing. He is, with all his acquaintance, the person generally chosen to reconcile any difference, and if it be capable of accommodation, Tom Lizard is an unexceptionable referee. It has happened to him more than once, that he has been employed by each opposite in a private manner, to feel the pulse

much, that if it were not to be expected that ex. perience and conversation would allay that hu mour, it must inevitably turn him to ridicule. But it is not proper to break in upon an inqui. sitive temper, that is of use to him in the way of life which he proposes to himself, to wit, the study of the law, and the endeavour to arrive at a faculty in pleading. I have been very careful to kill in him any pretensions to follow men already eminent, any farther than as their success is an encouragement; but make it my endeavour to cherish, in the principal and first place, his eager pursuit of solid knowledge in his profession: for I think that clear conception will produce clear expression, and clear expres sion proper action: I never saw a man speak very well, where I could not apparently observe this, and it shall be a maxim with me till I see an instance to the contrary. When young and unexperienced men take any particular person for their pattern, they are apt to imitate them in such things, to which their want of knowledge makes them attribute success, and not to the real causes of it. Thus one may have an air, which proceeds from a just sufficiency and knowledge of the matter before him, which may naturally produce some motion of his head and body, which might become the bench better than the bar. How painfully wrong would this be in a youth, at his first appearance, when it is not well even for the sergeant of the greatest weight and dignity. But I will, at this time, with a hint only of his way of life, leave Mr. William at his study in the temple.

The youngest son, Mr. John, is now in the twentieth year of his age, and has had the good fortune and honour to be chosen last election ellow of All-souls college in Oxford. He is very graceful in his person; has height, strength, vigour, and a certain cheerfulness and serenity that creates a sort of love, which people at first sight observe is ripening into esteem. He has a sublime vein in poetry, and a warm manner in recommending, either in speech or writing, whatever he has earnestly at heart. This ex

cellent young man has devoted himself to the service of his Creator; and, with an aptitude to every agreeable quality, and every happy talent, that could make a man shine in a court, or command in a camp, he is resolved to go into holy orders. He is inspired with a true sense of that function, when chosen from a regard to the interests of piety and virtue, and a scorn of whatever men call great in a transitory being, when it comes in competition with what is unchangeable and eternal. Whatever men would undertake from a passion to glory, whatever they would do for the service of their country, this youth has a mind prepared to achieve for the salvation of souls. What gives me great hopes that he will one day make an extraordinary figure in the Christian world is, that his invention, his memory, judgment, and imagination, are always employed upon this one view; and I do not doubt, but in my future precautions, to present the youth of this age with more agreeable narrations compiled by this young man on the subject of heroic piety, than any they can meet with in the legends of love and honour.

No. 14.]

Friday, March 27, 1713.

Nec sit, qua sit iter, nec si sciat imperet-
Ovid. Met. Lib. ii. 170.

-Nor did he know
Which way to turn the reins, or where to go;
Nor would the horses, had he known, obey.
Addison.

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they met accidentally in the fields with two
young ladies, whose conversation they were
very much pleased with, and being desirous to
ingratiate themselves further into their favour,
prevailed with them, though they had never seen
them before in their lives, to take the air in a
coach of their father's which waited for them at
the end of Gray's-inn-lane. The youths ran
with the wings of love, and ordered the coach-
man to wait at the town's end till they came
back. One of our young gentlemen got up be-
fore, and the other behind, to act the parts they
had long, by the direction and example of their
comrades, taken much pains to qualify them-
selves for, and so gallopped off. What these
mean entertainments will end in, it is impossi-
ble to foresee; but a precaution upon that sub-
ject might prevent very great calamities in a
very worthy family, who take in your papers,
and might perhaps be alarmed at what you lay
before them upon this subject. I am, sir, your
most humble servant,
T. S.'

To the Guardian.

'SIR,-I writ to you on the twenty-first of this month, which you did not think fit to take notice of; it gives me the greater trouble that you did not, because I am confident the father of the young lads whom I mentioned, would have considered how far what was said in my letter concerned himself; upon which it is now too late to reflect. His ingenious son, the coachman, aged seventeen years, has since that time, ran away with, and married one of the girls I 'To the Guardian. spoke of in my last. The manner of carrying 'SIR,-You having in your first paper de- on the intrigue, as I have picked it out of the clared, among other things, that you will pub. younger brother, who is almost sixteen, still a lish whatever you think may conduce to the ad- bachelor, was as follows. One of the young wovancement of the conversation of gentlemen, I men whom they met in the fields seemed very cannot but hope you will give my young mas- much taken with my master, the elder son, and ters, when I have told you their age, condition, was prevailed with to go into a cake-house not and how they lead their lives, and who, though far off the town. The girl, it seems, acted her I say it, are as docile as any youths in Europe, part so well, as to enamour the boy, and make a lesson which they very much want, to restrain him inquisitive into her place of abode, with all them from the infection of bad company, and other questions which were necessary toward squandering away their time in idle and unwor- further intimacy. The matter was so managed, thy pursuits. A word from you, I am very well that the lad was made to believe there was no assured, will prevail more with them than any possibility of conversing with her, by reason of remonstrance they will meet with at home. a very severe mother, but with the utmost cauThe eldest is now about seventeen years of age, tion. What, it seems, made the mother, forand the younger fifteen, born of noble parentage, sooth, the more suspicious was, that because the and to plentiful fortunes. They have a very men said her daughter was pretty, somebody or good father and mother, and also a governor, other would persuade her to marry while she but come very seldom (except against their wills) was too young to know how to govern a family. in the sight of any of them. That which I ob- By what I can learn from pretences as shallow serve they have most relish to, is horses and as this, she appeared so far from having a design cock-fighting, which they too well understand, upon her lover, that it seemed impracticable to being almost positive at first sight to tell you him to get her, except it were carried on with which horse will win the match, and which cock much secrecy and skill. Many were the interthe battle; and if you are of another opinion, views these lovers had in four-and-twenty hours will lay you what you please on their own, and time: for it was managed by the mother, that it is odds but you lose. What I fear to be the he should run in and out as unobserved by her, greatest prejudice to them, is their keeping and the girl be called every other instant into much closer to their horses' heels than their the next room, and rated (that she could not stay books, and conversing more with their stable in a place) in his hearing. The young gentlemen and lackies than with their relations and man was at last so much in love, as to be thought gentlemen: and, I apprehend, are at this time by the daughter engaged far enough to put it to better skilled how to hold the reins and drive a the venture that he could not live without her. coach, than to translate a verse in Virgil or Ho- It was now time for the mother to appear, who race. For, the other day, taking a walk abroad, | surprised the lovers together in private, and ba

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