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fear to lose it, make it a very hard part to
behave as becomes your humble slave,
'CYNTHIÓ.”

Robin whipt away and returned with,

are no more.

MR. WELLFORD,-Flavia and Cynthio I relieve you from the hard part of which you complain, and banish you from my sight for ever.

'ANN HEART.'

Robin had a crown for his afternoon's work; and this is published to admonish Cecilia to avenge the injury done to Flavia.

No. 399.] Saturday, June 7, 1712.

T.

Ut nemo in sese tentat descendere!-Per. Sat. iv. 23. None, none descends into himself to find The secret imperfections of his mind. Dryden. HYPOCRISY at the fashionable end of the own is very different from hypocrisy in the city. The modish hypocrite endeavours to Appear more vicious than he really is, the ther kind of hypocrite more virtuous. The ormer is afraid of every thing that has the how of religion in it, and would be thought ngaged in many criminal gallantries and mours which he is not guilty of. The later assumes a face of sanctity, and covers a aultitude of vices under a seeming religious deportment.

But there is another kind of hypocrisy, which differs from both these, and which I ntend to make the subject of this paper: I nean that hypocrisy, by which a man does hot only deceive the world, but very often mposes on himself: that hypocrisy which onceals his own heart from him, and makes im believe he is more virtuous than he eally is, and either not attend to his vices, Er mistake even his vices for virtues. It is his fatal hypocrisy, and self-deceit, which taken notice of in those words. Who an understand his errors? cleanse thou me rom secret faults.'

much insisted upon, I shall but just mention
them, since they have been handled by
many great and eminent writers.

I would therefore propose the following
methods to the consideration of such as
would find out their secret faults, and make
a true estimate of themselves.

In the first place, let them consider well what are the characters which they bear among their enemies. Our friends very often fatter us, as much as our own hearts. They either do not see our faults, or conceal them from us, or soften them by their representations, after such a manner that we think them too trivial to be taken notice of. An adversary, on the contrary, makes a stricter search into us, discovers every flaw and imperfection in our tempers; and though his malice may set them in too strong a light, it has generally some ground for what it advances. A friend exaggerates a man's virtues, an enemy inflames his crimes. A wise man should give a just attention to both of them, so far as they may tend to the improvement of one, and the diminution of the other. Plutarch has written an essay on the benefits which a man may receive from his enemies, and, among the good fruits of enmity, mentions this in particular, that by the reproaches which it casts upon us we see the worst side of ourselves, and open our eyes to several blemishes and defects ir. our lives and conversations, which we should not have observed without the help of such ill-natured monitors.

In order likewise to come at a true know-
ledge of ourselves, we should consider on
the other hand how far we may deserve the
praises and approbations which the world
bestow upon us; whether the actions they
celebrate proceed from laudable and worthy
motives; and how far we are really pos-
sessed of the virtues which gain us applause
among those with whom we converse. Such
a reflection is absolutely necessary, if we
consider how apt we are either to value or
condemn ourselves by the opinions of others,
and to sacrifice the report of our own hearts
to the judgment of the world.

If the open professors of impiety deserve
he utmost application and endeavours of
oral writers to recover them from vice In the next place, that we may not de-
nd folly, how much more may those lay a ceive ourselves in a point of so much im-
laim to their care and compassion, who portance, we should not lay too great a
re walking in the paths of death, while stress on any supposed virtues we possess
hey fancy themselves engaged in a course that are of a doubtful nature: and such we
f virtue! I shall endeavour therefore to lay may esteem all those in which multitudes
own some rules for the discovery of those of men dissent from us, who are as good and
ices that lurk in the secret corners of the wise as ourselves. We should always act
ul, and to show my reader those methods with great cautiousness and circumspection
y which he may arrive at a true and im- in points where it is not impossible that
artial knowledge of himself. The usual we may be deceived. Intemperate zeal,
eans prescribed for this purpose are to bigotry, and persecution for any party or
xamine ourselves by the rules which are opinion, how praise-worthy soever they
id down for our direction in sacred writ, may appear to weak men of our own prin-
d to compare our lives with the life of ciples, produce infinite calamities among
at person who acted up to the perfection mankind, and are highly criminal in their
human nature, and is the standing ex- own nature: and yet how many persons
nple, as well as the great guide and in- eminent for piety suffer such monstrous and
ructor, of those who receive his doctrines. absurd principles of action to take root in
hough these two heads cannot be tool their minds under the colour of virtues!

For my own part, I must own I never yet
knew any party so just and reasonable, that
a man could follow it in its height and vio-
lence, and at the same time be innocent.

Raise such a conflict, kindle such a fire,
Between declining virtue and desire,
That the poor vanquish'd maid dissolves away
In dreams all night, in sighs and tears all day.'

ward obtrusion, offend those of education, who have merit enough to attract regard and make the transgressors odious to all It is in this taste that the scenery is so

beautifully ordered in the description which Antony makes in the dialogue between him and Dolabella, of Cleopatra in her barge.

We should likewise be very apprehensive of complaisance, courtship, and artful conThis prevailing gentle art was made up of those actions which proceed from natural constitutions, favourite passions, particular formity to the modesty of a woman's maneducation, or whatever promotes our world-ners. Rusticity, broad expression and forly interest or advantage. In these and the like cases, a man's judgment is easily perverted, and a wrong bias hung upon his mind. These are the inlets of prejudice, the unguarded avenues of the mind, by which a thousand errors and secret faults find admission, without being observed or taken notice of. A wise man will suspect those actions to which he is directed by something besides reason, and always apprehend some concealed evil in every resofution that is of a disputable nature, when it is conformable to his particular temper, his age, or way of life, or when it favours his pleasure or his profit.

There is nothing of greater importance to us than thus diligently to sift our thoughts, and examine all these dark recesses of the mind, if we would establish our souls in such a solid and substantial virtue, as will turn to account in that great day when it must stand the test of infinite wisdom and justice.

I shall conclude this essay with observing that the two kinds of hypocrisy I have here spoken of, namely, that of deceiving the world, and that of imposing on ourselves, are touched with wonderful beauty in the hundred and thirty-ninth psalm. The folly of the first kind of hypocrisy is there set forth by reflections on God's omniscience and omnipresence, which are celebrated in as noble strains of poetry as any other I ever met with, either sacred or profane. The other kind of hypocrisy, whereby a man deceives himself, is intimated in the two last verses, where the psalmist addresses himself to the great Searcher of hearts in that emphatical petition: Try me, O God! and seek the ground of my heart; prove me, and examine my thoughts. Look well if there be any way of wickedness in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.'

No. 400.] Monday, June 9, 1712.

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L.

-Latet anguis in herba.-Virg. Ecl. iii. 93.
There's a snake in the grass.-English Proverb.
IT should, methinks, preserve modesty
and its interests in the world, that the trans-
gression of it always creates offence; and
the very purposes of wantonness are de-
feated by a carriage which has in it so.
much boldness, as to intimate that fear and
reluctance are quite extinguished in an ob-
ject which would be otherwise desirable.
It was said of a wit of the last age,

Sedley has that prevailing gentle art,
Which can with a resistless charm impart
The loosest wishes to the chastest heart;

'Her galley down the silver Cidnos row'd:
The tackling silk, the streamers wav'd with gold:
The gentle winds were lodg'd in purple sails;
Her nymphs, like Nereids, round her couch were plac'd
Where she, another sea-born Venus, lay;
She lay, and lean'd her cheek upon her hand,
And cast a look so languishingly sweet,
As if, secure of all beholders' hearts,
Neglecting she could take them. Boys, like Cupids,
Stood fanning with their painted wings the winds
That play'd about her face; but if she smil'd,
A darting glory seem'd to blaze abroad,
That men's desiring eyes were never weary'd,
But hung upon the object. To soft flutes
The silver oars kept time; and while they play'd
The bearing gave new pleasure to the sight;
And both to thought-

Here the imagination is warmed with all the objects presented, and yet there is nothing that is luscious, or what raises any idea more loose than that of a beautiful woman set off to advantage. The like, or a more delicate and careful spirit of modesty, appears in the following passage in one of Mr. Phillips's pastorals.

Breathe soft, ye winds! ye waters, gently flow!
Shield her, ye trees! ye flowers, around her grow!
Ye swains, I beg you pass in silence by!
My love in yonder vale asleep does lie.

be

derness or admiration expressed which par Desire is corrected when there is a tentakes the passion. Licentious language has something brutal in it, which disgraces humanity, and leaves us in the condition of asked, To what good use can tend a disthe savages in the field. But it may course of this kind at all? It is to alarus chaste ears against such as have, what is Masters of that talent are capable of cloth above called, the prevailing gentle art' ing their thoughts in so soft a dress, and something so distant from the secret pur pose of their heart, that the imagination the unguarded is touched with a fondness, which grows too insensibly to be resisted Much care and concern for the lady's wel fare, to seem afraid lest she should be an noyed by the very air which surrounds her, and expressed by an interjection, an 'ah, and this uttered rather with kind looks, or an oh,' at some little hazard in moving or making a step, than in any direct pro admirers. They are honest arts when their fession of love, are the methods of skilful purpose is such, but infamous when misap

* Dryden's All for Love, act iii. sc. 1.

of

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5

No. 401.] Tuesday, June 10, 1712.

In amore hæc omnia insunt vitia. Injuriæ,
Suspiciones inimitiæ, induciæ,
Bellum, pax rursum.

T.

lied. It is certain that many a young | have, though a tolerable good philosopher,
oman in this town has had her heart irre- but a low opinion of Platonic love: for
overably won, by men who have not made which reason I thought it necessary to give
e advance which ties their admirers, my fair readers a caution against it, having,
ough the females languish with the utmost to my great concern, observed the waist
xiety. I have often, by way of admoni- of a Platonist lately swell to a roundness
on to my female readers, given them which is inconsistent with that philosophy.
arning against agreeable company of the
ther sex, except they are well acquainted
ith their characters. Women may dis-
uise it if they think fit; and the more to do
they may be angry at me for saying it;
But I
say it is natural to them, that they
ave no manner of approbation of men,
ithout some degree of love. For this rea-
on he is dangerous to be entertained as a
iend or visitant, who is capable of gaining
ay eminent esteem or observation, though
be never so remote from pretensions as a
ver. If a man's heart has not the abhor-
ence of any treacherous design, he may
asily improve approbation into kindness,
nd kindness into passion. There may pos-
'MR. SPECTATOR,-Since you have often
bly be no manner of love between them in confessed that you are not displeased your
ne eyes
of all their acquaintance; no, it is papers should sometimes convey the com-
ll friendship; and yet they may be as fond plaints of distressed lovers to each other, I
shepherd and shepherdess, in a pastoral, am in hopes you will favour one who gives
ut still the nymph and the swain may be you an undoubted instance of her reforma-
each other, no other, I warrant you, than tion, and at the same time a convincing
ylades and Orestes.
proof of the happy influence your labours
of the most incorrigible sex.
have had over the most incorrigible part
Yor must
know, sir, I am one of that species of wo-
men, whom you have often characterized
under the name of "jilts," and that I send
you these lines as well to do public penance
for having so long continued in a known
error, as to beg pardon of the party of-
fended. I the rather choose this way, be-
cause it in some measure answers the terms
on which he intimated the breach between
us might possibly be made up, as you will
see by the letter he sent me the next day.
after I had discarded him; which I thought
fit to send you a copy of, that you might
the better know the whole case.

Ter. Eun. Act i. Sc. 1.
It is the capricious state of love, to be attended with
injuries, suspicions, enmities, truces, quarrelling, and
reconcilement.

this day, an odd sort of a packet, which I
I SHALL publish for the entertainment of
have just received from one of my female
correspondents.

When Lucy decks with flowers her swelling breast,
And on her elbow leans, dissembling rest;
Unable to refrain my madding mind,
Nor sheep nor pasture worth my care I find.

Once Delia slept, on easy moss reclin'd,
Her lovely limbs half bare, and rude the wind:
I smooth'd her coats, and stole a silent kiss:
Condemn me, shepherds, if I did amiss.'
Such good offices as these, and such friend-
thoughts and concerns for another, are
hat make up the amity, as they call it,
etween man and woman.

It is the permission of such intercourse hat makes a young woman come to the rms of her husband, after the disappointent of four or five passions which she has uccessively had for different men, before she 'I must further acquaint you, that before prudentially given to him for whom she I jilted him, there had been the greatest as neither love nor friendship. For what intimacy between us for a year and a half hould a poor creature do that has lost all together, during all which time I cherished her friends? There's Marinet the agree- his hopes, and indulged his flame. I leave ble has, to my knowledge, had a friend- you to guess, after this, what must be his hip for lord Welford, which had like to surprise, when upon his pressing for my reak her heart: then she had so great a full consent one day, I told him I wondered riendship for colonel Hardy, that she could what could make him fancy he had ever ot endure any woman else should do any any place in my affections. His own sex hing but rail at him. Many and fatal have allow him sense, and all ours good-breedeen disasters between friends who have ing. His person is such as might, without allen out, and these resentments are more vanity, make him believe himself not incaeen than ever those of other men can pos- pable of being beloved. Our fortunes, inibly be; but in this it happens unfortu-deed, weighed in the nice scale of interest, ately, that as there ought to be nothing are not exactly equal, which by the way oncealed from one friend to another, the was the true cause of my jilting him; and I riends of different sexes very often find had the assurance to acquaint him with the atal effects from their unanimity. following maxim, that I should always beFor my part, who study to pass life in as lieve that man's passion to be the most uch innocence and tranquillity as I can, I violent, who could offer me the largest sethun the company of agreeable women as tlement. I have since changed my opinion, uch as possible; and must confess that I and have endeavoured to let him know so

much by several letters, but the barbarous the fields, and gardens, without Philander,
man has refused them all; so that I have afford no pleasure to the unhappy
no way left of writing to him but by your
assistance. If you can bring him about once
more, I promise to send you all gloves and
favours, and shall desire the favour of Sir
Roger and yourself to stand as godfathers
first boy. I am, sir, your most obe-
dient humble servant,

to my

'AMORET.'

Philander to Amoret.

'AMORET.' 'I must desire you, dear Mr. Spectator, to publish this my letter to Philander as soon as possible, and to assure him that I know nothing at all of the death of his rich uncle in Gloucestershire.'

No. 402.] Wednesday, June 11, 1712.

-et quæ

Ipse sibi tradit Spectator.

Hor Ars Poct. 1. 181.

'MADAM,-I am so surprised at the
question you were pleased to ask me yes-
terday, that I am still at a loss what to say Sent by the Spectator to himself.
to it. At least my answer would be too long
to trouble you with, as it would come from I receive from different hands, and per-
WEREI to publish all the advertisements
a person, who, it seems, is so very indiffer-
ent to you. Instead of it, I shall only re- the very mention of them, without reflec
sons of different circumstances and quality,
commend to your consideration the opinion tions on the several subjects, would raise all
of one whose sentiments on these matters I the passions which can be felt by human
have often heard you say are extremely just. minds. As instances of this, I shall give
"A generous and constant passion," says you two or three letters; the writers of
your favourite author, in an agreeable which can have no recourse to any legal
lover, where there is not too great a dispa-power for redress, and seem to have writ
rity in their circumstances, is the greatest ten rather to vent their sorrow than to re-
blessing that can befal a person beloved; ceive consolation.

and if overlooked in one, may perhaps
never be found in another.

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'MR SPECTATOR,-I am a young woman

'I do not, however, at all despair of being of beauty and quality, and suitably married very shortly much better beloved by you to a gentleman who doats on me. But this than Antenor is at present; since, when-person of mine is the object of an unjust ever my fortune shall exceed his, you were pleased to intimate, your passion would increase accordingly.

'The world has seen me shamefully lose that time to please a fickle woman, which might have been employed much more to my credit and advantage in other pursuits. I shall therefore take the liberty to acquaint you, however harsh it may sound in a lady's ears, that though your love-fit should happen to return, unless you could contrive a way to make your recantation as well known to the public as they are already apprized of the manner with which you have treated me, you shall never more see 'PHILANDER.'

Amoret to Philander.

passion in a nobleman who is very intimate with my husband. This friendship gives him very easy access and frequent oppor tunities of entertaining me apart. My heart is in the utmost anguish, and my face is covered over with confusion, when I impart to you another circumstance, which is, that my mother, the most mercenary of all women, is gained by this false friend of my husband's to solicit me for him. I am fre quently chid by the poor believing man, my husband, for showing an impatience of his friend's company; and I am never alone the discretionary part of the world, and with my mother, but she tells me stories of such-a-one, and such-a-one, who are guilty of as much as she advises me to. She laughs at my astonishment; and seems to hint to me, that, as virtuous as she has always ap SIR,-Upon reflection, I find the injury peared, I am not the daughter of her hus I have done both to you and myself to be band. It is possible that printing this letter so great, that, though the part I now act may relieve me from the unnatural impor may appear contrary to that decorum usu-tunity of my mother, and the perfidious ally observed by our sex, yet I purposely courtship of my husband's friend. I have break through all rules, that my repentance an unfeigned love of virtue, and am resolved may in some measure equal my crime. I to preserve my innocence. The only way assure you, that in my present hopes of I can think of to avoid the fatal conse recovering you, I look upon Antenor's estate quences of the discovery of this matter, is with contempt. The fop was here yester- to fly away for ever, which I must do to day in a gilt chariot and new liveries, but I avoid my husband's fatal resentment against refused to see him.-Though I dread to the man who attempts to abuse him, and meet your eyes, after what has passed, I the shame of exposing a parent to infamy. flatter myself, that, amidst all their confu- The persons concerned will know these cir sion, you will discover such a tenderness cumstances relate to them; and though the in mine, as none can imitate but those who regard to virtue is dead in them, I have love. I shall be all this month at lady some hopes from their fear of shame upon D's in the country; but the woods, I reading this in your paper; which I conjure

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you to publish, if you have any compassion | he was sorry he had made so little use of or injured virtue.

'SYLVIA.'

the unguarded hours we had been together so remote from company; "as, indeed," 'MR. SPECTATOR,-I am the husband continued he, "so we are at present." I fa woman of merit, but am fallen in love, flew from him to a neighbouring gentles they call it, with a lady of her acquaintwoman's house, and though her husband nce, who is going to be married to a gen- and burst into a passion of tears. My friend was in the room, threw myself on a couch, eman who deserves her. I am in a trust elating to this lady's fortune, which makes desired her husband to leave the room. ay concurrence in this matter necessary; extraordinary in this, that I will partake in "But," said he, "there is something so at I have so irresistible a rage and envy the affliction; and be it what it will, she is se in me when I consider his future hapiness, that against all reason, equity, and so much your friend, she knows she may ommon justice, I am ever playing mean The man sat down by me, and spoke so command what services I can do her." icks to suspend the nuptials. I have no like a brother, that I told him my whole anner of hopes for myself; Emilia, for so Il call her, is a woman of the most strict affliction. He spoke of the injury done me rtue; her lover is a gentleman whom of with so much indignation, and animated me others I could wish my friend; but envy the wretch who would have betrayed me, against the love he said he saw I had for d jealousy, though placed so unjustly, with so much reason and humanity to my aste my very being; and, with the tor-weakness, that I doubt not of my perseverent and sense of a demon, I am ever irsing what I cannot but approve. I wish were the beginning of repentance, that I down and describe my present disposion with so hellish an aspect: but at prent the destruction of these two excellent ersons would be more welcome to me than eir happiness. Mr. Spectator, pray Je have a paper on these terrible ground- 'MR. SPECTATOR,-I had the misfors sufferings, and do all you can to ex-tune to be an uncle before I knew my cise crowds who are in some degree nephews from my nieces: and now we are ssessed as I am.

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CANIBAL.'

let

MR. SPECTATOR,-I have no other eans but this to express my thanks to one an, and my resentment against another. y circumstances are as follow: I have en for five years last past courted by a ntleman of greater fortune than I ought expect, as the market for women goes. u must, to be sure, have observed people 10 live in that sort of way, as all their ends reckon it will be a match, and are arked out by all the world for each other. this view we have been regarded for me time, and I have above these three ars loved him tenderly. As he is very reful of his fortune, I always thought he ed in a near manner, to lay up what he ought was wanting in my fortune to make what he might expect in another.

and I am under no more restraint in their
ance. His wife and he are my comforters,
company than if I were alone; and I doubt
will take place of the remains of affection
not but in a small time contempt and hatred
to a rascal. I am, sir, your affectionate
reader,
DORINDA.'

grown up to better acquaintance, they deny
me the respect they owe. One upbraids
me with being their familiar, another will
hardly be persuaded that I am an uncle, a
third calls me little uncle, and a fourth tells
me there is no duty at all due to an uncle.
I have a brother-in-law whose son will win

all my affection, unless you shall think this
worthy of your cognizance, and will be
pleased to prescribe some rules for our
future reciprocal behaviour. It will be
worthy the particularity of your genius to
lay down some rules for his conduct who
was, as it were, born an old man; in which
you will much oblige, sir, your most obe-

dient servant,

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ithin these few months I have observed No. 403.] Thursday, June 12, 1712.

carriage very much altered, and he s affected a certain air of getting me ne, and talking with a mighty profusion passionate words, how I am not to be reted longer, how irresistible his wishes , and the like. As long as I have been quainted with him, I could not on such asions say downright to him, "You ow you may make me yours when you But the other night he with great akness and impudence explained to me, t he thought of me only as a mistress. nswered this declaration as it deserved; on which he only doubled the terms on ich he proposed my yielding. When anger heightened upon him, he told me

ase.

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Qui mores hominum multorum vidit

Hor. Ars Poet. v. 142.

Of many men he saw the manners.
WHEN I consider this great city in its
several quarters and divisions, I look upon
it as an aggregate of various nations dis-
tinguished from each other by their respec-
tive customs, manners, and interests. The
courts of two countries do not so much dif-
fer from one another, as the court and city,
in their peculiar ways of life and conversa-
tion. In short, the inhabitants of St. James's,
notwithstanding they live under the same
laws, and speak the same language, are a
distinct people from those of Cheapside,

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