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me to it, had I not seen at some distance a grove of trees, which, in a plain that had nothing else remarkable enough in it to fix my sight, immediately determined me to go thither. When I arrived at it, I found it parted out into a great number of walks and alleys, which often widened into beautiful openings, as circles or ovals, set round with yews and cypresses, with niches, grottos, and caves, placed on the sides, encompassed with ivy. There was no sound to be heard in the whole place, but only that of a gentle breeze passing over the leaves of the forest; every thing beside was buried in a profound silence. I was captivated with the beauty and retirement of the place, and never so much, before that hour, was pleased with the enjoyment of myself. I indulged the humour, and suffered myself to wander without choice or design. At length, at the end of a range of trees, I saw three figures seated on a bank of moss, with a silent brook creeping at their fect. I adored them as the tutelary divinities of the place, and stood still to take a particular view of each of them. The middlemost, whose name was Solitude, sat with her arms across each other, and seemed rather pensive, and wholly taken up with her own thoughts, than any ways grieved or displeased. The only companions which she admitted into that retirement, were the goddess Silence, who sat on her right hand with her finger on her mouth, and on her left Contemplation, with her eyes fixed upon the heavens. Before her lay a celestial globe, with several schemes of mathematical theorems. She prevented my speech with the greatest affability in the world. "Fear not," said she, "I know your request before you speak it; you would be led to the mountain of the Muses: the only way to it lies through this place, and no one is so often employed in conducting persons thither as myself." When she had thus spoken, she rose from her seat, and I immediately placed myself under her direction; but whilst I passed through the grove I could not help inquiring of her who were the persons admitted into that sweet retirement. "Surely," said I, "there can nothing enter here but virtue and virtuous thoughts; the whole wood seems designed for the reception and reward of such persons as have spent their lives according to the dictates of their conscience, and the commands of the gods." "You imagine right," said she: "assure yourself this place was at first designed for no other: such it continued to be in the reign of Saturn, when none entered here but holy priests, deliverers of their country from oppression and tyranny, who reposed themselves here after their labours, and those whom the study and love of wisdom had fitted for divine conversation. But now it is become no less dangerous than it was before desirable: vice has learned so to

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mimic virtue, that it often creeps in hith under its disguise. See there; just befo you, Revenge stalking by, habited in t robe of Honour. Observe not far from hi Ambition, standing alone; if you ask hi his name, he will tell you it is Emulatio or Glory. But the most frequent intrud we have is Lust, who succeeds now th deity to whom in better days this gro was entirely devoted. Virtuous Love, wi Hymen, and the Graces attending hin once reigned over this happy place; whole train of virtues waited on him, an no dishonourable thought durst presum for admittance. But now, how is the who prospect changed! and how seldom renew ed by some few who dare despise sord wealth, and imagine themselves fit con panions for so charming a divinity."

'The goddess had no sooner said thu but we were arrived at the utmost bound ries of the wood, which lay contiguous to plain that ended at the foot of the mour tain. Here I kept close to my guide, bei solicited by several phantoms, who assure me they would show me a nearer way the mountain of the Muses. Among th rest Vanity was extremely importunat having deluded infinite numbers, whom saw wandering at the foot of the hill. turned away from this despicable tro with disdain; and addressing myself to m guide, told her that, as I had some hopes should be able to reach up part of th ascent, so I despaired of having streng enough to attain the plain on the top. Bu being informed by her that it was imposs ble to stand upon the sides, and that if I d not proceed onwards I should irrevocab fall down to the lowest verge, I resolve to hazard any labour and hardship in th attempt: so great a desire had I of enjoyin the satisfaction I hoped to meet with at tl end of my enterprise.

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There were two paths, which led upl different ways to the summit of the mou tain: the one was guarded by the geni which presides over the moment of o births. He had it in charge to exami the several pretensions of those who sired to pass that way, but to admit no excepting those only whom Melpome had looked with a propitious eye at t hour of their nativity. The other way w guarded by Diligence, to whom many those persons applied who had met with denial the other way; but he was so tedio in granting their request, and indeed aft admittance the way was so very intrica and laborious, that many, after they ha made some progress, chose rather to r turn back than proceed, and very few pe sisted so long as to arrive at the end th proposed. Besides these two paths, whi at length severally led to the top of th mountain, there was a third made up these two, which a little after the entran joined in one. This carried those happ few, whose good fortune it was to findi

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directly to the throne of Apollo. I do not | before: I breathed a purer æther in a sky know whether I should even now have had which was a continued azure, gilded with the resolution to have demanded entrance perpetual sunshine. The two summits of at either of these doors, had I not seen a the mountain rose on each side, and formed peasant-like man (followed by a numerous in the midst a most delicious vale, the habiand lovely train of youths of both sexes) tation of the Muses, and of such as had com.. insist upon entrance for all whom he led posed works worthy of immortality. Apollo up. He put me in mind of the country was seated upon a throne of gold, and for clown who is painted in the map for lead- a canopy an aged laurel spread its boughs ing prince Eugene over the Alps. He had and its shade over his head. His bow and a bundle of papers in his hand; and pro- quiver lay at his feet. He held his harp in ducing several, that he said were given to his hand, whilst the Muses round about him by hands which he knew Apollo would him celebrated with hymns his victory over allow as passes: among which, methought the serpent Python, and sometimes sung I saw some of my own writing; the whole in softer notes the loves of Leucothoe and assembly was admitted, and gave by their Daphnis. Homer, Virgil, and Milton were presence a new beauty and pleasure to seated the next to them. Behind were a these happy mansions. I found the man great number of others; among whom I was did not pretend to enter himself, but served surprised to see some in the habit of Lapas a kind of forester in the lawns, to direct landers, who notwithstanding the uncouthpassengers, who by their own merit, or in-ness of their dress had lately obtained a structions, he procured for them, had virthe enough to travel that way. I looked very attentively upon this kind homely benefactor; and forgive me, Mr. Spectator, if I own to you I took him for yourself. We were no sooner entered, but we were sprinkled three times with the water of the fountain of Aganippe, which had power to deliver us from all harms, but only envy, which reached even to the end of our journey. We had not proceeded far in the middle path, when we arrived at the summit of the hill, where there immediately appeared to us two figures, which extremely engaged my attention: the one was a young ymph in the prime of her youth and beauty; she had wings on her shoulders and feet, and was able to transport herself to the most distant regions in the smallest space of time. She was continually varying her dress, sometimes into the most natural and becoming habits in the world, and at others into the most wild and freakish garb that can be imagined. There stood by her a man full aged and of great gravity, who Corrected her inconsistencies by showing them in his mirror, and still flung her affected and unbecoming ornaments down the mountain, which fell in the plain below, and were gathered up and wore with great satisfaction by those that inhabited it. The name of this nymph was Fancy, the daughter of Liberty, the most beautiful of all the mountain nymphs: the other was Judgment, the offspring of Time, and the only child he acknowledged to be his. A youth, who sat upon a throne just between them, was their genuine offspring; his name was Wit, and his seat was composed of the works of the most celebrated authors. I could not but see with a secret joy, that, though the Greeks and Romans made the No. 515.] Tuesday, October 21, 1712. majority, yet our own countrymen were the next both in number and dignity. I was now at liberty to take a full prospect of that delightful region. I was inspired with new vigour and life, and saw every thing in nobler and more pleasing views than

place on the mountain. I saw Pindar walking alone, no one daring to accost him, until Cowley joined himself to him; but, growing weary of one who almost walked him out of breath, he left him for Horace and Anacreon, with whom he seemed infinitely delighted.

A little farther I saw another group of figures: I made up to them, and found it was Socrates dictating to Xenophon, and the spirit of Plato; but most of all, Museus had the greatest audience about him. I was at too great a distance to hear what he said, or to discover the faces of his hearers; only I thought I now perceived Virgil, who had joined them, and stood in a posture full of admiration at the harmony of his words.

'Lastly, at the very brink of the hill, I saw Boccalini sending despatches to the world below of what happened upon Parnassus; but I perceived he did it without leave of the Muses, and by stealth, and was unwilling to have them revised by Apollo. I could now, from this height and serene sky, behold the infinite cares and anxieties with which mortals below sought out their way through the maze of life. I saw the path of Virtue lie straight before them, whilst Interest, or some malicious demon, still hurried them out of the way. I was at once touched with pleasure at my own happiness, and compassion at the sight of their inextricable errors. Here the two contending passions rose so high, that they were inconsistent with the sweet repose T enjoyed; and, awaking with a sudden start, the only consolation I could admit of for my loss, was the hopes that this relation of my dream will not displease you.'


Pudet me et miseret, qui harum mores cantabat milk
Monuisse frustra- Tr. Heaut. Act ii. Sc. 3.

I am ashamed and grieved, that I neglected his ad.

vice, who gave me the character of these creatures.

'MR. SPECTATOR,-I am obliged to you for printing the account I lately sent you of

a coquette who disturbed a sober congre- them; I say, I do honour to those who can
gation in the city of London. That intelli- be coquettes, and are not such; but I des
gence ended at her taking a coach, and pise all who would be so, and, in despair of
bidding the driver go where he knew. I arriving at it themselves, hate and vilify
could not leave her so, but dogged her, as all those who can. But be that as it will
hard as she drove, to Paul's church-yard, in answer to your desire of knowing my
where there was a stop of coaches attend- history: one of my chief present pleasures
ing company coming out of the cathedral. is in country-dances; and in obedience to
This gave me an opportunity to hold up a me, as well as the pleasure of coming up to
crown to her coachman, who gave me the me, with a good grace, showing themselve
signal that he would hurry on and make no in their address to others in my presence
haste, as you know the way is when they and the like opportunities, they are al
favour a chase. By his many kind blun- proficients that way; and I had the happi
ders, driving against other coaches, and ness of being the other night where we
slipping off some of his tackle, I could made six couple, and every woman's part
keep up with him, and lodged my fine lady ner a professed lover of mine. The wildes
in the parish of St. James's. As I guessed, imagination cannot form to itself, on any
when I first saw her at church, her busi- occasion, higher delight than I acknow
ness is to win hearts, and throw them away, ledge myself to have been in all that even
regarding nothing but the triumph. I have ing. I chose out of my admirers a set of
had the happiness, by tracing her through men who must love me, and gave them
all with whom I heard she was acquainted, partners of such of my own sex who mos
to find one who was intimate with a friend envied me.
of mine, and to be introduced to her notice. My way is, when any man who is my
I have made so good a use of my time, as admirer pretends to give himself airs of
to procure from that intimate of hers one of merit, as at this time a certain gentlema
her letters, which she writ to her when in you know did, to mortify him by favouring
the country. This epistle of her own may in his presence the most insignificant crea
serve to alarm the world against her in or-ture I can find. At this ball I was led int
dinary life, as mine, I hope, did those who the company by pretty Mr. Fanfly, wh
shall behold her at church. The letter was you know, is the most obsequious, well
written last winter to the lady who gave it shaped,_ well-bred woman's man in the
me; and I doubt not but you will find it the town. I at first entrance declared him my
soul of a happy self-loving dame, that partner if I danced at all; which put th
takes all the admiration she can meet with, whole assembly into a grin, as forming n
and returns none of it in love to her ad- terrors from such a rival. But we had no
been long in the room before I overhear
the meritorious gentleman above-mentione
"DEAR JENNY,-I am glad to find you say, with an oath, 'There is no raillery i
are likely to be disposed of in marriage so the thing, she certainly loves the puppy.
much to your approbation as you tell me. My gentleman, when we were dancing
You say you are afraid only of me, for I took an occasion to be very soft in his oglin
shall laugh at your spouse's airs. I beg of upon a lady he danced with, and whom h
you not to fear it, for I am too nice a dis- knew of all women I loved most to outshing
cerner to laugh at any, but whom most The contest began who could plague th
other people think fine fellows; so that other most. I, who do not care a farthin
your dear may bring you hither as soon as for him, had no hard task to outvex hin
his horses are in case enough to appear in I made Fanfly, with a very little encourag
town, and you will be very safe against any ment, cut capers coupee, and then sin
raillery you may apprehend from me; for I with all the air and tenderness imaginabl
am surrounded with coxcombs of my own When he performed this, I observed th
making, who are all ridiculous in a manner gentleman you know of, fall into the sam
wherein your good man, I presume, cannot way, and imitate as well as he could th
exert himself. As men who cannot raise despised Fanfly. I cannot well give yo
their fortunes, and are uneasy under the in- who are so grave a country lady, the ide
capacity of shining in courts, rail at ambi- of the joy we have when we see a stubbor
tion; so do awkward and insipid women, heart breaking, or a man of sense turnin
who cannot warm the hearts, and charm fool for our sakes; but this happened to o
the eyes of men, rail at affectation: but she friend, and I expect his attendance whe
that has the joy of seeing a man's heart ever I go to church, to court, to the pla
leap into his eyes at beholding her, is in no or the park. This is a sacrifice due to
pain for want of esteem among the crew of women of genius, who have the eloquen
that part of her own sex, who have no of beauty, an easy mien. I mean by an ea
spirit but that of envy, and no language but mien, one which can be on occasion easi
that of malice. I do not in this, I hope, ex-affected: for I must tell you, dear Jenny,
press myself insensible of the merit of Leo-
dacia, who lowers her beauty to all but her
husband, and never spreads her charms
but to gladden him who has a right to

hold one maxim, which is an uncomm one, to wit, That our greatest charms a owing to affectation. It is to that our arm can lodge so quietly just over our hips, an


the fan can play without any force or motion but just of the wrist. It is to affectation we owe the pensive attention of Deidamia at a tragedy, the scornful approbation of Dulcimara at a comedy, and the lowly aspect of Lanquicelsa at a sermon. "To tell you the plain truth, I know no pleasure but in being admired, and have yet never failed of attaining the approbation of the man whose regard I had a mind to. You see all the men who make a figure in the world (as wise a look as they are pleased to put upon the matter) are moved the same vanity as I am. What is there in ambition, but to make other people's wills depend upon yours? This indeed is not to be aimed at by one who has a genius no higher than to think of being a very good housewife in a country gentleman's family. The care of poultry and pigs are great enemies to the countenance: the vacant look of a fine lady is not to be preserved, if she admits any thing to take up her thoughts but her own dear person. But Interrupt you too long from your cares, and myself from my conquests. I am, madam, your most humble servant. 'Give me leave, Mr. Spectator, to add her friend's answer to this epistle, who is a very discreet ingenious woman.'

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"DEAR GATTY,-I take your raillery in very good part, and am obliged to you for the free air with which you speak of your own gayeties. But this is but a barren superficial pleasure; for, indeed, Gatty, we are made for man; and in serious sadness I must tell you, whether you yourself know it or no, all these gallantries tend to no other end but to be a wife and a mother as fast as you can. I am, madam, your most obedient servant."


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Of all the monstrous passions and opions which have crept into the world, ere is none so wonderful as that those ho profess the common name of Chrisms, should pursue each other with rancour d hatred for difference in their way of lowing the example of their Saviour. It ems so natural that all who pursue the ps of any leader should form themselves er his manner, that it is impossible to Count for effects so different from what might expect from those who profess emselves followers of the highest pattern VOL. IL


of meekness and charity, but by ascribing such effects to the ambition and corruption of those who are so audacious with souls full of fury, to serve at the altars of the God of Peace.

The massacres to which the church of Rome has animated the ordinary people, are dreadful instances of the truth of this observation; and whoever reads the history of the Irish rebellion, and the cruelties which ensued thereupon, will be sufficiently convinced to what rage poor ignorants may be worked up by those who profess holiness and become incendiaries, and, under the dispensation of grace, promote evils abhorrent to nature.

The subject and catastrophe, which deserve so well to be remarked by the protestant world, will, I doubt not, be considered by the reverend and learned prelate that preaches to-morrow before many of the descendants of those who perished on that lamentable day, in a manner suitable to the occasion, and worthy his own great virtue and eloquence.

I shall not dwell upon it any farther, but only transcribe out of a little tract, called what I find there in honour of the rethe Christian Hero,* published in 1701, nowned hero, William III. who rescued that nation from the repetition of the same disasters. His late majesty, of glorious memory, and the most Christian king, are considered at the conclusion of that treatise as heads of the protestant and Romancatholic world in the following manner.

"There were not ever, before the entrance of the Christian name into the world, men who have maintained a more renowned carriage, than the two great rivals who possess the full fame of the present age, and will be the theme and examination of the future. They are exactly formed by nature for those ends to which heaven seems to have sent them amongst us. Both animated with a restless desire of glory, but pursue it by different means, and with different motives. To one it consists in an extensive undisputed empire over his subjects, to the other in their rational and voluntary obedience. Ones happiness is founded in their want of power, the others in their want of desire to oppose him. The one enjoys the summit of fortune with the luxury of a Persian, the other with the moderation of a Spartan. One is made to oppress, the other to relieve the oppressed. The one is satisfied with the pomp and ostentation of power to prefer and debase his inferiors; the other delighted only with the cause and foundation of it to cherish and protect them. To

Steele, who was never insensible to his own faults and follies, but who never had courage to correct them, in all the dissipation of a soldier's life, to serve the pur is said to have written this little tract, while plunged poses of a private manual, and to have published it under the hope that it would compel him to something like an imitation of the character he had drawn; unfortunately for him, it failed of its effect, and served but to make his errors the more conspicuous

one therefore religion is but a convenient | template on Him "whose yoke is easy a disguise, to the other a vigorous motive of whose burden is light."


For, without such ties of real and solid honour, there is no way of forming a monarch, but after the Machiavelian scheme, by which a prince must seem to have all virtues, but really be master of none; he is to be liberal, merciful, and just, only as they serve his interests; while, with the noble art of hypocrisy, empire would be to be extended, and new conquests be made by new devices, by which prompt address his creatures might insensibly give law in the business of life, by leading men in the entertainment of it.

Thus, when words and show are apt to pass for the substantial things they are only to express, there would need no more to enslave a country but to adorn a court; for while every man's vanity makes him believe himself capable of becoming luxury, enjoyments are a ready bait for sufferings, and the hopes of preferment invitations to servitude; which slavery would be coloured with all the agreements, as they call it, imaginable. The noblest arts and artists, the finest pens and most elegant minds, jointly employed to set it off with the various embellishments of sumptuous entertainments, charming assemblies, and polished discourses, and those apostate abilities of men, the adored monarch might profusely and skilfully encourage, while they flatter his virtue, and gild his vice at so high a rate, that he, without scorn of the one, or love of the other, would alternately and occasionally use both; so that his bounty should support him in his rapines, his mercy in his cruelties.

Nor is it to give things a more severe look, than is natural, to suppose such must be the consequences of a prince's having no other pursuit than that of his own glory; for if we consider an infant born into the world, and beholding itself the mightiest thing in it, itself the present admiration and future prospect of a fawning people, who profess themselves great or mean, according to the figure he is to make amongst them, what fancy would not be debauched to believe they were but what they professed themselves his mere creatures; and use them as such by purchasing with their lives a boundless renown, which he, for want of a more just prospect, would place in the number of his slaves, and the extent of his territories? Such undoubtedly would be the tragical effects of a prince's living with no religion, which are not to be surpassed but by his having a false one.

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If ambition were spirited with zeal, what would follow, but that his people should be converted into an army, whose swords can make right in power, and solve controversy in belief? And if men should be stiff-necked to the doctrine of that visible church, let them be contented with an oar and a chain, in the midst of stripes and anguish, to con

"With a tyranny begun on his own su jects, and indignation that others draw th breath independent of his frown or smi why should he not proceed to the seizu of the world? And if nothing but the thi of sway were the motive of his actio why should treatises be other than me words, or solemn national compacts be a thing but a halt in the march of that arm who are never to lay down their arms un all men are reduced to the necessity hanging their lives on his wayward w who might supinely, and at leisure, expi his own sins by other men's sufferings, wh he daily meditates new slaughter and co quests?


For mere man, when giddy with bridled power, is an insatiate idol, not be appeased with myriads offered to pride, which may be puffed up by the ad lation of a base and prostrate world into opinion that he is something more th human, by being something less: and, al what is there that mortal man will not b lieve of himself, when complimented wi the attributes of God? He can then co ceive thoughts of a power as omniprese as his. But, should there be such a f of mankind now upon earth, have our si so far provoked Heaven, that we are le utterly naked to his fury? Is there no pow no leader, no genius, that can conduct a animate us to our death, or to our defenc Yes; our great God never gave one to rei by his permission, but he gave to anoth also to reign by his grace.

'All the circumstances of the illustrio life of our prince seem to have conspired make him the check and bridle of tyrann for his mind has been strengthened a confirmed by one continued struggle, a Heaven has educated him by adversity a quick sense of the distresses and miseri of mankind, which he was born to redre In just scorn of the trivial glories and lig ostentations of power, that glorious inst ment of Providence moves, like that, steady, calm, and silent course, indepe dent either of applause or calumny; whi renders him, if not in a political, yet in moral, a philosophic, an heroic, and a Chr tian sense, an absolute monarch: who, tisfied with this unchangeable, just, a ample glory, must needs turn all his regar from himself to the service of others; he begins his enterprise with his own sha in the success of them; for integrity bea in itself its reward, nor can that whi depends not on event, ever know disa pointment.

"With the undoubted character of a g rious captain, and (what he much mo values than the most splendid titles,) th of a sincere and honest man, he is the ho and stay of Europe, an universal good; n to be engrossed by us only, for distant p tentates implore his friendship, and injure

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