T

Cap. 51. ver. 6. and Cap. 54.

V. 10.

PERS. SAT. I. V. 27.

I Have often wondered at that illnatured pofition which has been fometimes maintained in the fchools, and is comprised in an old Latin verfe, namely, that a man's knowledge is worth nothing if he communicates what he knows to any one befides. There is certainly no more fenfible pleafure to a good-natured man, than if he can by any means gratify or inform the mind of another. I might add, that this virtue naturally carries it's own reward along with it, fince it is almost impoffible it thould be exercised without the improvement of the perfon who practifes it. The reading of books, and the daily occurrences of life, are continually furnishing us with matter for thought and reflection. It is extremely natural for us to defire to see fuch our thoughts put into the drefs of words, without which indeed we can scarce have a clear and diftin&t idea of them our felves: when they are thus cloathed in expreffions, nothing fo truly fhews us whether they are juft or falfe, as those effects which they produce in the minds of others.

I am apt to flatter myself, that in the course of these my fpeculations, I have treated of several subjects, and laid down many fuch rules for the conduct of a man's life, which my readers were either wholly ignorant of before, or which at lealt thofe few, who were acquainted with them, looked upon as fo many fecrets they have found out for the conduct of themselves, but were refolved never to have made public.

I am the more confirmed in this opinion from my having received feveral letters, wherein I am cenfured for having prostituted Learning to the embraces

DRYDEN.

of the vulgar, and made her, as one of my correfpondents phrases it, a common trumpet: I am charged by another with laying open the arcana, or fecrets of prudence, to the eyes of every reader.

The narrow fpirit which appears in the letters of thefe my correfpondents is the lefs furprifing, as it has fhewn itself in all ages: there is still extant an epiftle written by Alexander the Great to his tutor Ariftotle, upon that philofopher's publishing some part of his writings; in which the prince complains of his hav ing made known to all the world those fecrets in learning which he had before communicated to him in private lectures; concluding, That he had rather excel the reft of mankind in knowledge than in power.

Louifa de Padilla, a lady of great learning, and Countess of Aranda, was in like manner angry with the famous Gratian, upon his publishing his treatife of the Difcreto; wherein the fancied that he had laid open thofe maxims to common readers, which ought only to have been referved for the knowledge of the great.

Thefe objections are thought by many of fo much weight, that they often de fend the above mentioned authors, by affirming they have affected such an obfcurity in their ftile and manner of writing, that though every one may read their works, there will be but very few who can comprehend their meaning.

Perfius, the Latin satirist, affected obfcurity for another reafon; with which however Mr. Cowley is fo offended, that writing to one of his friends -You, fays he, tell me, that you 'do not know whether Perfius be a

good poet or no, because you cannot

understand

• understand him; for which very reafon I affirm that he is not fo.' However, this art of writing unintelligibly has been very much improved, and followed by feveral of the moderns, who obferving the general inclination of mankind to dive into a fecret, and the reputation many have acquired by concealing their meaning under obfcure terms and phrafes, refolve, that they may be ftill more abftrufe, to write without any meaning at all. This art, as it is at prefent practifed by many eminent authors, confits in throwing fo many words at a venture into different periods, and leaving the curious reader to find the meaning of them.

The Egyptians, who made ufe of hieroglyphics to fignify feveral things, exprofiled a man who confined his know kdge and difcoveries altogether within bimtelf, by the figure of a dark lathorn clofed on all fides, which, though it was illuminated within, afforded no manner of light or advantage to fuch as food by it. For my own part, as I hall from time to time communicate to the public whatever difcoveries I happen to make, I fhould much rather be compared to an ordinary lamp, which confumes and waftes itfelf for the benefit of every paflenger.

I fhall conclude this paper with the fory of Roficrucius's fepulchre. I fuppofe I need not inform my readers that this man was the author of the Roficrusian fect, and that his difciples till pretend to new difcoveries which they are never to communicate to the rent of mankind.

A certain perfon having occafion to dig fomewhat deep in the ground, where this philofopher lay interred, met with a fmall door, having a wall on each fide of it. His curiofity, and the hopes of finding fome hidden treasure, foon prompted him to force open the door. He was immediately furprised by a sudden blaze of light, and discovered a very fair vault: at the upper end of it was a ftatue of a man in armour fitting by a table, and leaning on his left arm. He held a truncheon in his right hand, and had a lamp burning before him. The man had no fooner fet one foot within the vault, than the ftatue erecting itself from it's leaning pofture, ftood bolt upright; and upon the fellow's advancing another ftep, lifted up the truncheon in his right-hand. The man ftill ven tured a third ftep, when the ftatue with a furious blow broke the lamp into a thousand pieces, and left his guest in a fudden darkness.

Upon the report of this adventure, the country people foon came with lights to the fepulchre, and difcovered that the ftatue, which was made of brafs, was nothing more than a piece of clockwork; that the floor of the vault was all loofe, and underlaid with feveral fprings, which, upon any man's enter ing, naturally produced that which had happened.

Roficrucius, fay his disciples, made ufe of this method, to fhew the world that he had re-invented the ever-burning lamps of the ancients, though he was refolved no one should reap any advantage from the difcovery.

X

STR,

OVID. ARS AM. L. 11. V. 538.

HE character you have in the TH world of being the lady's philofopher, and the pretty advice I have feen you give to others in your papers, make me address myfell to you in this abrupt manner, and to defire your opinion what in this age a woman may call a lover,

thought made pretenfions to me, infomuch that most of my friends took notice of it and thought we were really married; which I did not take much pains to undeceive them, and especially a young gentlewoman of my particular acquaintance which was then in the country. She coming to town, and

fecing our intimacy fo great, fhe gave herfelf the liberty of taking me to tafk concerning it: I ingenuously told her we were not married, but I did not know what might be the event. She foon got acquainted with the gentleman, and was pleased to take upon her to examine him about it. Now whether a new face had made a greater conqueft than the old, I will leave you to judge: but I am informed that he utterly denied all pretenfions to courtship, but withal profeffed a fincere friendship for me; but whether marriages are propofed by way of friendship or not, is what I defire to know, and what I may really call a lover. There are fo many who talk in a language fit only for that character, and yet guard themselves againft fpeaking in direct terms to the point, that it is impoffible to diftinguish between courtship and converfation. I hope you will do me justice both upon my lover and my friend, if they provoke me further: in the mean time I carry it with fo equal a behaviour, that the nymph and the fwain too are mightily at a lofs; each believes I, who know them both well, think myself revenged in their love to one another, which creates an irreconcilable jealousy. If all comes right again, you shall hear further from, Sir, your most obedient fervant,

MR. SPECTATOR,

MYRTILLA.

APRIL 28, 1712.

YOUR obfervations on perfons that

::

have behaved themfelves irreverently at church, I doubt not have had a good effect on fome that have read them but there is another fault which has hitherto efcaped your notice, I mean of fuch perfons as are very zealous and punctual to perform an eficulation that is only preparatory to the fervice of the church, and yet neglect to join in the fervice itself. There is an inftance of this in a friend of Will Honeycomb's, who, fits oppofite to me: he feldom comes in until the prayers are about half over, and when he has entered his feat, (initead of joining with the congregation) he devoutly holds his hat before his face for three or four moments, then bows to all his acquaintance, fits down, takes a pinch of inuff, if it be evening fervice perhaps a nap, and fpends the remaining time in furveying the con

gregation. Now, Sir, what I would defire, is, that you will animadvert a little on this gentleman's practice. In my opinion, this gentleman's devotion, cap-in-hand, is only a compliance to the cuftom of the place, and goes no farther than a little ecclefiaftical goodbreeding. If you will not pretend to tell us the motives that bring fuch triflers to folemn affemblies, yet let me defire that you will give this letter a place in your paper, and I fhall remain, Sir, your obliged humble fervant,

MR. SPECTATOR,

J. S.

MAY THE 5th

THE converfation at a club, of which

I am a member, last night falling upon vanity and the defire of being admired, put me in mind of relating how agreeably I was entertained at my own door laft Thurfday by a clean dreh-coloured girl, under the most elegant and the beft furnished milk-pail I had ever oblerved. I was glad of fuch an opportunity of feeing the behaviour of a coquet in low life, and how the received the extraordinary notice that was taken of her; which I found had affected every mufcle of her face in the fame manner as it does the feature of a firstrate toaft at a play, or in an affembly. This hint of mine made the difcourfe turn upon the fente of pleasure; which ended in a general refolution, that the milk-maid enjoys her vanity as exquifitely as the woman of quality. I think it would not be an improper fubject for you to examine this frailty, and trace it to all conditions of life; which is recommended to you as an occafion of obliging many of your readers, among the rest, your most humble fervant,

SIR,

T. B.

COMING laft week into a coffee

houfe not far from the Exchange with my basket under my arm, a Jew of confiderable note, as I am informed, takes half a dozen oranges of me, and at the fame time flides a guinea into my hand; I made him a curtly, and went my way: he followed me, and finding I was going about my business, he came up he gave me the guinea with no other intent but to purchafe my perfon for an hour. Did you fo, Sir?' fays I;

with me, and told me plainly, that

you gave it me then to make me be wicked; I will keep it to make me ⚫honeft.

honeft. However, not to be in the leaft ungrateful, I promife you I will lay it out in a couple of rings, and wear them for your fake.' I am fo jult, Sir, befides, as to give every body that asks how I came by my rings this account of my benefactor; but to fave me the trouble of telling my tale over and over again, I humbly beg the favour of you fo to tell it once for all, and you will extremely oblige your humble fervant, BETTY LEMON.

nity of informing you, that the gentle. men and others of the parish of St. Bride's, have raised a charity-school of fifty girls, as before of fifty boys. You were so kind to recommend the boys to the charitable world, and the other fex hope you will do them the same favour in Friday's Spectator for Sunday next, when they are to appear with their humble airs at the parish church of St. Bride's. Sir, the mention of this may poffibly be ferviceable to the children; and fure no one will omit a good action attended with no expence.

I

I am, Sir,

Your very humble fervant, THE SEXTON,

HOR. OD. III. L. II. V. I,

Have always preferred chearfulness to mirth. The latter I confider as an act, the former as an habit of the mind. Mirth is fhort and tranfient, chearfulness fixed and permanent. Those are often raised into the greateft tranfports of mirth, who are fubject to the greateft depreffions of melancholy. On the contrary, chearfulnefs, though it does not give the mind fuch an exquifite gladnefs, prevents us from falling into any depths of forrow. Mirth is like a flash of lightning, that breaks through a gloom of clouds, and glitters for a moment; chearfulness keeps up a kind of day-light in the mind, and fills it with a steady and perpetual ferenity.

Men of auftere principles look upon mirth as too wanton and diffolute for a ftate of probation, and as filled with a certain triumph and infolence of heart that is inconfiftent with a life which is

ANON.

every moment obnoxious to the greatest dangers. Writers of this complexion have obferved, that the facred Perfon who was the great pattern of perfection was never seen to laugh.

Chearfulness of mind is not liable to any of thefe exceptions; it is of a serious and compofed nature; it does not throw the mind into a condition improper for the prefent ftate of humanity, and is very confpicuous in the characters of thofe who are looked upon as the greatest philofophers among the heathens, as well as among thofe who have been defervedly esteemed as faints and holy men among Christians.

If we confider chearfulness in three lights, with regard to ourselves, to those we converfe with, and to the great Author of our being, it will not a little recommend itself on each of these accounts. The ma who is poffeffed of this excel

lent