of men; in the country with those of God. One is the province of art, the other of nature. Faith and devotion naturally grow in the mind of every reasonable man, who sees the impressions of divine power and wisdom in every object on which he casts his eye. The Supreme Being has made the best arguments for his own existence, in the formation of the heavens and the earth; and these are arguments which a man of sense cannot forbear attending to, who is out of the noise and hurry of human affairs. Aristotle says, that should a man live under ground, and there converse with works of art and mechanism, and should afterward be brought up into the open day, and see the several glories of the heaven and earth, he would immediately pronounce them the works of such a Being as we define God to be. The psalmist has very beautiful strokes of poetry to this purpose, in that exalted strain: "The heavens declare the glory of God; and the firmament sheweth his handy-work. One day telleth another; and one night certifieth another. There is neither speech nor language; but their voices are heard among them. Their sound is gone out into all lands; and their words into the ends of the world." As such a bold and sublime manner of thinking nishes very noble matter for an ode, the reader may tee it wrought into the following one :

1

I.

The spacious firmament on high,
With all the blue ethereal sky,

And spangled heavens, a shining frame,
Their great Original proclaim:

Th' unwearied sun, from day to day,
t Does his Creator's power display,
And publishes to every land
The work of an Almighty hand.
II.

Soon as the evening shades prevail,
The moon takes up the wondrous tale,
And nightly to the list ning earth
Repeats the story of her birth:

Whilst all the stars that round her burn,
And all the planets in their turn,
Confirm the tidings as they roll,
And spread the truth from pole to pole.

III.

What though, in solemn silence all
Move round the dark terrestrial ball?
What though no real voice nor sound
Amid their radiant orbs be found?
In reason's ear they all rejoice,

And utter forth a glorious voice;
For ever singing as they shine,
"The Hand that made us is divine."

C.

goddess of beauty till she moved. All the charms of an agreeable person are then in their highest exertion, every limb and feature appears with its respective grace. It is from this observation that I can. not help being so passionate an admirer as I am of good dancing. As all art is an imitation of nature, this is an imitation of nature in its highest excellence, and at a time when she is most agreeable. The business of dancing is to display beauty; and for that reason all distortions and mimicries, as such, are what raise aversion instead of pleasure; bat things that are in themselves excellent, are ever attended with imposture and false imitation. Thus, as in poetry there are labouring fools who write anagrams and acrostics, there are pretenders in dancing, who think merely to do what others cannot, is to excel. Such creatures should be rewarded like him who had acquired a knack of throwing a grain of corn through the eye of a needle, with a bushel to keep his hands in use. The dancers on our stage are very faulty in this kind; and what they mean by writhing themselves into such postures, as it would be a pain for any of the spectators to stand in, and yet hope to please those spectators, is unintel fur-ligible. Mr. Prince has a genius, if he were en couraged, would prompt him to better things. In all the dances he invents, you see he keeps close to the characters he represents. He does not hope to please by making his performers move in a manner in which no one else ever did, but by motions proper to the characters he represents. He gives to clowas and lubbards clumsy graces; that is, he makes them practise what they would think graces; and I have seen dances of his, which might give hints that would be useful to a comic writer. These performances have pleased the taste of such as have not reflection enough to know their excellence, because they are in nature; and the distorted motions of others have offended those who could not form reasons to themselves for their displeasure, from their being a contradiction to nature.

No. 466.] MONDAY, AUGUST 25, 1712.
-Vera incessu patuit dea.-VIRG. Æn. i. 409.
And by her graceful walk the queen of love is known.
DRYDEN.

When one considers the inexpressible advantage there is in arriving at some excellence in this art, it is monstrous to behold it so much neglected. The following letter has in it something very natural on this subject:

"MR. SPECTATOR,

"I am a widower with but one daughter: she was by nature much inclined to be a romp; and I had no way of educating her, but commanding a young woman, whom I entertained, to take care of her, to be very watchful in her care and attendance about her. I am a man of business, and obliged to be much abroad. The neighbours have told me, that in my absence our maid has let in the spruce servants in the neighbourhood to junketings, while my WHEN Æneas, the hero of Virgil, is lost in the girl played and romped even in the street. To tell wood, and a perfect stranger in the place on which you the plain truth, I catched her once, at eleven he is landed, he is accosted by a lady in a habit for years old, at chuck-farthing among the boys. This the chase. She inquires of him, whether he has seen put me upon new thoughts about my child, and I pass by that way any young woman dressed as she determined to place her at a boarding-school; and was? whether she were following the sport in the at the same time gave a very discreet young gentle wood, or any other way employed, according to the woman her maintenance at the same place and rate, 'custom of huntresses? The hero answers with the to be her companion. I took little notice of my girl respect due to the beautiful appearance she made; from time to time, but saw her now and then in good tells her he saw no such person as she inquired for; health, out of harm's way, and was satisfied. But, but intimates that he knows her to be of the deities, by much importunity, I was lately prevailed with and desires she would conduct a stranger. Her form, to go to one of their balls. I cannot express to you from her first appearance, manifested she was more the anxiety my silly heart was in, when I saw my than mortal, but, though she was certainly a god-romp, now fifteen, taken out: I never felt the pangs dess. the poet does not make her known to be the of a father upon me so strongly in my whole life,

THE love of praise is a passion deeply fixed in the mind of every extraordinary person; and those who are most affected with it seem most to partake of that particle of the divinity which distinguishes manI have some time ago spoken of a treatise written kind from the inferior creation. The Supreme Beby Mr. Weaver on this subject, which is now, I un- ing himself is most pleased with praise and thanksderstand, ready to be published. This work sets this giving: the other part of our duty is but an acknowmatter in a very plain and advantageous light; and ledgment of our faults, whilst this is the immediate I am convinced from it, that if the art was under adoration of his perfections. 'Twas an excellent Proper regulations, it would be a mechanic way of observation, that we then only despise commendaimplanting insensibly, in minds not capable of re- tion when we cease to deserve it; and we have still ceiving it so well by any other rules, a sense of good-extant two orations of Tully and Pliny, spoken to breeding and virtue.

tising the guilty. The good are less frequent, whe-ing parties. Tis his peculiar happiness that, while ther it be that there are indeed fewer originals of he espouses neither with an intemperate zeal, he is this kind to copy after, or that, through the malignot only admired, but, what is a more rare and unnity of our nature, we rather delight in the ridicule usual felicity, he is beloved and caressed by both; than the virtues we find in others. However, it is and I never yet saw any person, of whatever age or but just, as well as pleasing, even for variety, some-sex, but was immediately struck with the merit of times to give the world a representation of the Manilius. There are many who are acceptable to bright side of human nature, as well as the dark and some particular persons, whilst the rest of mankind gloomy. The desire of imitation may, perhaps, be look upon them with coldness and indifference; but a greater incentive to the practice of what is good, he is the first whose entire good fortune it is ever to than the aversion we may conceive at what is blame- please and to be pleased, wherever he comes to be able: the one immediately directs you what you admired, and wherever he is absent to be lamented. should do, whilst the other only shows what you His merit fares like the pictures of Raphael, which should avoid; and I cannot at present do this with are either seen with admiration by all, or at least so more satisfaction, than by endeavouring to do some one dare own that he has no taste for a composition justice to the character of Manilius. which has received so universal an applause. Eavy and malice find it against their interest to indulge slander and obloquy. Tis as hard for an enemy lo detract from, as for a friend to add to, his praise. An attempt upon his reputation is a sure lessening of one's own; and there is but one way to injure him, which is to refuse him his just commendations, and be obstinately silent.

It would far exceed my present design, to give a particular description of Manilius through all the parts of his excellent life. I shall now only draw him in his retirement, and pass over in silence the various arts, the courtly manners, and the undesigning honesty by which he attained the honours he has enjoyed, and which now give a dignity and veneration to the ease he does enjoy. 'Tis here that It is below him to catch the sight with any care of he looks back with pleasure on the waves and billows dress; his outward garb is but the emblem of his through which he has steered to so fair a haven: he mind. It is genteel, plain, and unaffected; he is now intent upon the practice of every virtue, knows that gold and embroidery can add nothing which a great knowledge and use of mankind has to the opinion which all have of his merit, and that discovered to be the most useful to them. Thus in he gives a lustre to the plainest dress, whilst 'uşămhis private domestic employments he is no less glo- possible the richest should communicate any to him, rious than in his public; for it is in reality a more He is still the principal figure in the room. He first difficult task to be conspicuous in a sedentary inac-engages your eye, as if there were some point of tive life, than in one that is spent in hurry and light which shone stronger upon him than on any business: persons engaged in the latter, like bodies other person. violently agitated, from the swiftness of their motion have a brightness added to them, which often vanishes when they are at rest; but if it then still remain, it must be the seeds of intrinsic worth that thus shine out without any foreign aid or assistance. His liberality in another might almost bear the name of profusion; he seems to think it laudable even in the excess, like that river which most enriches when it overflows. But Manilius has too perfect a taste of the pleasure of doing good ever to let it be out of his power; and for that reason he will have a just economy and a splendid frugality at Like Aristippus, whatever shape or condition he home, the fountain from whence those streams should appears in, it still sits free and easy upon him; but How which he disperses abroad. He looks with dis- in some part of his character, 'tis true, he differs dain on those who propose their death as the time from him; for as he is altogether equal to the large when they are to begin their munificence; he will ness of his present circumstances, the rectitude of both see and enjoy (which he then does in the high-his judgment has so far corrected the inclinations of est degree) what he bestows himself; he will be the living executor of his own bounty, whilst they who have the happiness to be within his care and patronage at once pray for the continuation of his life and their own good fortune. No one is out of the reach of his obligations; he knows how, by proper and becoming methods, to raise himself to a level with those of the highest rank; and his good-nature is a sufficient warrant against the want of those who are so unhappy as to be in the very lowest. One may say of him, as Pindar bids his Muse say of Theron,

He puts me in mind of a story of the famous Bussy d'Amboise, who, at an assembly at court, where every one appeared with the utmost magnificence, relying on his own superior behaviour, instead of adorning himself like the rest, put on that day a plain suit of clothes, and dressed all his servants in the most costly gay habits he could procure. The event was, that the eyes of the whole court were fixed upon him; all the rest looked like his attendants, while he alone had the air of a person of quality and distinction.

his ambition, that he will not trouble himself with either the desires or pursuits of any thing beyond his present enjoyments.

A thousand obliging things flow from him upon every occasion; and they were always so just and natural, that it is impossible to think he was at the least pains to look for them. One would think it was the demon of good thoughts that discovered to him those treasures, which he must have blinded others from seeing, they lay so directly in their way. Nothing can equal the pleasure that is taken in hearing him speak, but the satisfaction one receives in the civility and attention he pays to the discourse of others. His looks are a silent commendation of what is good and praiseworthy, and a secret reproof to what is licentious and extravagant. He knows Never did Atticus succeed better in gaining the how to appear free and open without danger of inuniversal love and esteem of all men; nor steer with trusion, and to be cautious without seeming reserved. more success between the extremes of two contend-The gravity of his conversation is always enlivened

Swear that Theron sure has sworn

No one near him should be poor.
Swear that none ever had such graceful art,
Fortune's free gifts of freely to impart,

With an unensious hand, and an unbounded heart.

The Nile.

with his wit and humour, and the gaiety of it is tem pered with something that is instructive, as well as

barely agreeable. Thus, with him you are sure not not how oft. Where be your gibes now? your gam to be merry at the expense of your reason, nor se-bols? your songs? your flashes of merriment, that rious with the loss of your good-humour; but, by a were wont to set the table on a roar? not one now happy mixture of his temper, they either go together, to mock your own grinning? quite chap-fallen? Now or perpetually succeed each other. In fine, his get you to my lady's chamber, and tell her, let ber whole behaviour is equally distant from constraint paint an inch thick, to this favour she must come. and negligence, and he commands your respect Make her laugh at that." whilst he gains your heart.

There is in his whole carriage such an engaging softness, that one cannot persuade one's self he is ever actuated by those rougher passions, which, wherever they find place, seldom fail of showing themselves in the outward demeanour of the person they belong to; but his constitution is a just temperature between indolence on one hand, and violence on the other. He is mild and gentle, whereever his affairs will give him leave to follow his own inclinations; but yet never failing to exert himself with vigour and resolution in the service of his prince, his country, or his friend.-Z.

No. 468.] WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 27, 1712.

Erat homo- ingeniosus, acutus, acer, et qui plurimum et salis
haberet et fellis, nec candoris minus-PLIN Epist.
He was an ingenious, pleasant fellow, and one who had a great
deal of wit and satire, with an equal share of good-humour.
My paper is, in a kind, a letter of news, but it re-
gards rather what passes in the world of conversa-
tion than that of business. I am very sorry that I
have at present a circumstance before me, which is
of very great importance to all who have a relish for
gaiety, wit, mirth, or humour; I mean the death of
poor Dick Estcourt. I have been obliged to him for
so many hours of jollity, that it is but a small re-
compense, though all I can give him, to pass a mo-
ment or two in sadness for the loss of so agreeable a
man. Poor Estcourt! the last time I saw him, we
were plotting to show the town his great capacity
for acting in its full light, by introducing him as dic
tating to a set of young players, in what manner to
speak this sentence, and utter the other passion. He
had so exquisite a discerning of what was defective
in any object before him, that in an instant he could
show you the ridiculous side of what would pass for
beautiful and just, even to men of no ill judgment,
before he had pointed at the failure. He was no
less skilful in the knowledge of beauty; and I dare
say, there is no one who knew him well, but can re-
peat more well-turned compliments, as well as smart
repartees of Mr. Estcourt's, than of any other man
England. This was easily to be observed in his
inimitable faculty of telling a story, in which he
would throw in natural and unexpected incidents to
make his court to one part, and rally the other part
of the company. Then he would vary the usage he
gave them, according as he saw them bear kind or
sharp language. He had the knack to raise up a
pensive temper, and mortify an impertinently gay
one, with the most agreeable skill imaginable. There
are a thousand things which crowd into my memory,
which make me too much concerned to tell on about
hm. Hamlet holding up the skull which the grave-
digger threw to him, with an account that it was the
head of the king's jester, falls into very pleasing
reflections, and cries out to his companion," Alas,
poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio, a fellow of in-
finite jest, of most exquisite fancy; he hath borne
te on his back a thousand times: and now how ab-
herred in my imagination it is! my gorge rises at
Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know

It is an insolence natural to the wealthy, to affix, as much as in them lies, the character of a man to his circumstances. Thus it is ordinary with them to praise faintly the good qualities of those below them, and say, It is very extraordinary in such a man as he is, or the like, when they are forced to acknowledge the value of him whose lowness upbraids their exaltation. It is to this humour only, that it is to be ascribed, that a quick wit in conversation, a nice judgment upon any emergency that could arise, aud a most blameless inoffensive behaviour, could not raise this man above being received only upon the foot of contributing to mirth and diversion. But he was as easy under that condition, as a man of so excellent talents was capable; and since they would all the seeming alacrity imaginable, though it stung have it, that to divert was his business, he did it with

him to the heart that it was his business. Men of sense, who could taste his excellences, were well satisfied to let him lead the way in conversation, and play after his own manner; but fools, who provoked him to mimicry, found he had the indignation to let it be at their expense who called for it, and he would show the form of conceited heavy fellows as jests to the company at their own request, in revenge for interrupting him from being a companion to put on the character of a jester.

What was peculiarly excellent in this memorable companion was, that in the accounts he gave of persons and sentiments, he did not only hit the figure of their faces, and manner of their gestures, but he would in his narrations fall into their very way of thinking, and this when he recounted passages wherein men of the best wit were concerned, as well as such wherein were represented men of the lowest rank of understanding. It is certainly as great an instance of self-love to a weakness, to be impatient of being mimicked, as any can be imagined. There were none but the vain, the formal, the proud, or those who were incapable of amending their faults, that dreaded him; to others he was in the highest degree pleasing; and I do not know any satisfaction of any indifferent kind I ever tasted so much, as having got over an impatience of my seeing myself in the air he could put me when I have displeased him. It is indeed to his exquisite talent this way, more than any philosophy I could read on the subject, that my person is very little of my care, and it is indifferent to me what is said of my shape, my air, my manner, my speech, or my address. It is to poor Estcourt I chiefly owe that I am arrived at the happiness of thinking nothing a diminution to me, but what argues a depravity of my will.

It has as much surprised me as any thing in nature, to have it frequently said, that he was not a good player: but that must be owing to a partiality for former actors in the parts in which he succeeded them, and judging by comparison of what was liked before, rather than by the nature of the thing. When a man of his wit and smartness could put on an utter absence of common sense in his face, as he did in the character of Bullfinch in the Northern Luss, and an air of insipid cunning and vivacity in the character of Pounce in the Tender Husband, it is folly to dispute his capacity and success, as he was an actor.

No. 469.] THURSDAY, AUGUST 28, 1712. Detrahere aliquid alteri, et hominem hominis incommodo suum augere commodum, magis est contra naturam quam mors, quam paupertas, quam dolor, quam cætera quæ possunt aut corpori accidere, aut rebus externis.-TULL To detract any thing from another, and for one man to multi-dispatch-money, and the like spacious terms, are ply his own conveniences by the inconveniences of another, is more against nature than death, than poverty, than pain, and the other things which can befal the body, or external