and her retinue, in advancing the interests of the Roman-catholic religion in those kingdoms.

To the Spectator General.

'MAY IT PLEASE YOUR HONOUR,-I have of late seen French hats of a prodigious magnitude pass by my observatory. T 'JOHN SLY.'

Every thing should be fairly told, that the buyer may not be ignorant of any thing which the seller knows.

to you

We exhort you to keep in peace two good religious families of missionaries, the Sons of Ignatius, and the black and white sons of Dominicus; that the counsel, both of the one and the other may serve as a guide to us in our government, and a light to interpret the divine law, as the oil cast into the sea produces light.

'To conclude, we rising up in our throne to embrace you, we declare you our ally and confederate; and have ordered this leaf to be sealed with our imperial signet, in our royal city, the head of the world, the eighth day of the third lunation, and the fourth year of our reign.'

Letters from Rome say, the whole conversation both among gentlemen and ladies has turned upon the subject of this epistle, ever since it arrived. The jesuit who translated it says, it loses much of the majesty of the original in the Italian. It seems there was an offer of the same nature made by the predecessor of the present emperor to Lewis XIII. of France; but no lady of that court would take the voyage, that sex not being at that time so much used in public negotiations. The manner of treating the pope is, according to the Chinese ceremonial, very respectful: for the emperor writes to him with the quill of a virgin ostrich, which was never used before but in writing prayers. Instructions are preparing for the lady who shall have so much zeal as to undertake this pilgrimage, and be an empress For the sake of her religion. The principal of the Indian missionaries has given in a list of the reigning sins in China, in order to prepare indulgencies necessary to this lady

mon report, that Mr. Cibber was introducing a French play upon our stage, and know what was his, and what was foreign.** thought myself concerned to let the town When I came to the rehearsal, I found the house so partial to one of their own fraternity, that they gave every thing which was said such grace, emphasis, and force in their action, that it was no easy matter to make any judgment of the performance. Mrs. Oldfield, who, it seems, is the heroic daughter, had so just a conception of her part, that her action made what she spoke appear decent, just, and noble. The pas sions of terror and compassion they made me believe were very artfully raised, and. the whole conduct of the play artful and surprising. We authors do not much relish have the same disdain as physicians and the endeavours of players in this kind, but lawyers have when attorneys and apothecaries give advice. Cibber himself took the liberty to tell me, that he expected I would do him justice, and allow the play well prepared for his spectators, whatever it was for his readers. He added very many particulars not uncurious concerning the manner of taking an audience, and laying wait not only for their superficial applause, but also for insinuating into their affections and passions, by the artful management of the look, voice, and gesture of the speaker. I could not but consent that the Heroic Daughter appeared in the rehearsal a mov

Ximena, or the Heroic Daughter, a tragedy taken from the Cid of Corneille, by C. Cibber.

This play met with so little encouragement, that the author did not venture to publish it till about two years after it had been performed, when it appeared with a but unfortunately at the expense of a much better highly complimentary dedication to Sir Richard Steele, writer.

ing entertainment, wrought out of a great and exemplary virtue.

The advantages of action, show, and dress, on these occasions are allowable, because the merit consists in being capable of imposing upon us to our advantage and entertainment. All that I was going to say about the honesty of an author in the sale of his ware was, that he ought to own all that he had borrowed from others, and lay in a clear light all that he gives his spectators for their money, with an account of the first manufacturers. But I intended to give the lecture of this day upon the common and prostituted behaviour of traders in ordinary commerce. The philosopher made it a rule of trade, that your profit ought to be the common profit; and it is unjust to make any step towards gain, wherein the gain of even those to whom you sell is not also consulted. A man may deceive himself if he thinks fit, but he is no better than a cheat, who sells any thing without telling the exceptions against it, as well as what is to be said to its advantage. The scandalous abuse of language and hardening of conscience, which may be observed every day in going from one place to another, is what makes a whole city, to an unprejudiced eye, a den of thieves. It was no small pleasure to me for this reason to remark, as I passed by Cornhill, that the shop of that worthy, honest, though lately unfortunate citizen, Mr. John Morton, so well known in the linen trade, is setting up anew. Since a man has been in a distressed condition, it ought to be a great satisfaction to have passed through it in such a manner as not to have lost the friendship of those who suffered with him, but to receive an honourable acknowledgment of his honesty from those very persons to whom the law had consigned his estate. The misfortune of this citizen is like to prove of a very general advantage to those who shall deal with him hereafter; for the stock with which he now sets up being the loan of his friends, he cannot expose that to the hazard of giving credit, but enters into a ready-money trade, by which means he will both buy and sell the best and cheapest. He imposes upon himself a rule of affixing the value of each piece he sells, to the piece itself; so that the most ignorant servant or child will be as good a buyer at his shop as the most skilful in the trade. For all which, you have all his hopes and fortune for your security. To encourage dealing after this way, there is not only the avoiding the most infamous guilt in ordinary bartering; but this observation, that he who buys with ready money saves as much to his family as the state exacts out of his land for the security and service of his country. That is to say, in plain Eng

some favours which I have lately receive that I must beg leave to give them utte ance amongst the crowd of other anonymo correspondents; and writing, I hope, w be as great a relief to my forced silen as it is to your natural taciturnity. M generous benefactor will not suffer me speak to him in any terms of acknowled ment, but ever treats me as if he had th greatest obligations, and uses me with distinction that is not to be expected fro one so much my superior in fortune, year and understanding. He insinuates, as if had a certain right to his favours from som merit, which his particular indulgence me has discovered; but that is only a bea tiful artifice to lessen the pain an hone mind feels in receiving obligations whe there is no probability of returning them.

'A gift is doubled when accompanie with such a delicacy of address; but whe to me gives it an inexpressible value, is i coming from the man I most esteem in th world. It pleases me indeed, as it is a advantage and addition to my fortune; bt when I consider it as an instance of that goo man's friendship, it overjoys, it transport me: I look on it with a lover's eye, and m longer regard the gift, but the hand tha gave it. For my friendship is so entirel void of any gainful views, that it often give me pain to think it should have bee chargeable to him; and I cannot at som melancholy hours help doing his generosity the injury of fearing it should cool on thi account, and that the last favour might be a sort of legacy of a departing friendship.

I confess these fears seem very groundless and unjust, but you must forgive them to the apprehension of one possessed of great treasure, who is frighted at the mos distant shadow of danger.

'Since I have thus far opened my hear to you, I will not conceal the secret satis faction I feel there, of knowing the good ness of my friend will not be unrewarded I am pleased with thinking the providence of the Almighty hath sufficient blessings in store for him, and will certainly discharg the debt, though I am not made the happ instrument of doing it.

However, nothing in my power shall b wanting to show my gratitude; I will make it the business of my life to thank him; and shall esteem (next to him) those my bes friends, who give me the greatest assist ance in this good work. Printing this let ter would be some little instance of my gratitude; and your favour herein wil very much oblige your most humble servant, &c. W. C.

T.

Hor. Ep. ii. Lib. 2 199

have read it with the same attention I hav done, will think there is nothing to be ob jected against it. I have however draw up some additional arguments to strengthe the opinion which you have there deliver ed, having endeavoured to go to the botton of the matter, which you may either pub lish or suppress as you think fit.

'Horace, in my motto, says, that all me are vicious, and that they differ from on another only as they are more or less so Boileau has given the same account of ou wisdom, as Horace has of our virtue:

Tous les hommes sont fous, et malgre tous leurs soins Ne different entre eux, que de plus et du moins."

0.

No. 548.] Friday, November 28, 1712.

-Vitiis nemo sine nascitur, optimus ille Qui minimis urgetur. Hor. Sat. iii. Lib. 1. 68. There's none but has some fault; and he's the best, Most virtuous he that's spotted with the least.

Creech. Nov. 27, 1712. 'MR. SPECTATOR,-I have read this day's paper with a great deal of pleasure, and could send you an account of several elixirs and antidotes in your third volume, which your correspondents have not taken notice of in their advertisements; and at the same time must own to you, that I have seldom seen a shop furnished with such a variety of medicaments, and in which there are fewer soporifics. The several vehicles you have invented for conveying your unacceptable truths to us, are what I most particularly admire, as I am afraid they are secrets which will die with you. I do not find that any of our critical essays are taken notice of in this paper, notwithstanding I look upon them to be excellent cleansers of the brain, and could venture to superscribe them with an advertisement which I have lately seen in one of your newspapers, wherein there is an account given of a sovereign remedy for restoring the taste to all such persons whose palates have been vitiated by distempers, unwholesome food, or any the like occasions. But to let fall the allusion, notwithstanding your criticisms, and particularly the candour which you have discovered in them, are not the least taking part of your works, I find your opinion concerning poetical justice, as it is expressed in the first part or your fortieth Spectator, is controverted by some eminent critics; and as you now seem, to our great grief of heart, to be winding up your bottoms, I hoped you would have enlarged a little upon that subject. It is indeed but a single paragraph in your works, and I believe those who

'Two or three of the old Greek poets have given the same turn to a sentence which describes the happiness of man in this life:

« το ζην αλύπως, ανδρός εστιν ευτυχούς. "That man is most happy who is the least miserable."

'It will not perhaps be unentertaining to the polite reader to observe how these three beautiful sentences are formed upon different subjects, by the same way of thinking; but I shall return to the first of them.

The

'Our goodness being of a comparative and not an absolute nature, there is none who in strictness can be called a virtuous man. Every one has in him a natural alloy, though one may be fuller of dross than another: for this reason I cannot think it right to introduce a perfect or a faultless man upon the stage; not only because such a character is improper to move compassion, but because there is no such thing in nature. This might probably be one reason why the Spectator in one of his papers took notice of that late invented term called poetical justice, and the wrong notions into which it has led some tragic writers. most perfect man has vices enough to draw down punishments upon his head, and to justify Providence in regard to any miseries that may befall him. For this reason I cannot think but that the instruction and moral are much finer, where a man who is virtuous in the main of his character falls into distress, and sinks under the blows of fortune at the end of a tragedy, than when he is represented as happy and triumphant. Such an example corrects the insolence of human nature, softens the mind of the beholder with sentiments of pity and compassion, comforts him under his own private affliction, and teaches him not to judge of men's virtues by their success. cannot think of one real hero in all antiquity so far raised above human infirmities, that he might not be very naturally represented in a tragedy as plunged in misfortunes and calamities. The poet may still find out some prevailing passion or indiscretion in his character, and show it in

I

ach a manner as will sufficiently acquit the gods of any injustice in his sufferings. For, as Horace observes in my text, the best man is faulty, though not in so great a degree as those whom we generally call

vicious men.

minal that they can have no claim or pretence to happiness. The best of men may deserve punishment, but the worst of men cannot deserve happiness.

Quamvis digressu veteris confusus amici,
Laudo tamen.

Juv. Sat. iii. 1.
Though griev'd at the departure of my friend,
His purpose of retiring 1 commend.

-Cadit et Ripheus justissimus unus, Qui fuit in Teucris, et servantissimus æqui: Diis aliter visum est

Æn. ii. 427.

And that Pantheus could neither be preserved by his transcendent piety, nor by the holy fillets of Apollo, whose priest he was. -Nec te tua plurima, Pantheu, Labentem pietas, nec Apollinis infula texit.

Ibid. ver. 429.

I might here mention the practice of ancient tragic poets, both Greek and Latin; but as this particular is touched upon in the paper above-mentioned, I shall pass it over in silence. I could produce passages out of Aristotle in favour of my opinion; and if in one place he says that an absolutely virtuous man, should not be represented as unhappy, this does not justify any one who shall think fit to bring in an absolutely virtuous man upon the stage. Those who are acquainted with that author's way of writing, know very well that, to take the whole extent of his subject into his divisions of it, he often makes use of such cases as are imaginary, and not reducible to practice. He himself declares that such tragedies as ended unhappily, bore away the prize in theatrical contentions, from those which ended happily; and for the fortieth speculation, which I am now considering, as it has given reasons why these are more apt to please an audience, so it only proves that these are generally preferable to the other, though at the same time it affirms that many excellent tragedies have and may be written in both kinds.

I shall conclude with observing, that though the Spectator above-mentioned is so far against the rule of poetical justice, as to affirm that good men may meet with an unhappy catastrophe in tragedy, it does not say that ill men may go off unpunished. The reasons for this distinction is very plain, namely, because the best of men are vicious enough to justify Providence for any misfortunes and afflictions which may befall them, but there are many men só cri

I BELIEVE most people begin the world with a resolution to withdraw from it into a serious kind of solitude or retirement when they have made themselves easy in it. Our unhappiness is, that we find out some excuse or other for deferring such our good resolutions until our intended retreat is cut off by death. But among all kinds of people, there are none who are so hard to part with the world as those who are grown old in the heaping up of riches. Their minds are so warped with their constant attention to gain, that it is very difficult for them to give their souls another bent, and convert them towards those objects, which though they are proper for every stage of life, are Horace so more especially for the last. describes an old usurer as so charmed with the pleasures of a country life, that in order to make a purchase he called in all his money; but what was the event of it? Why, in a very few days after he put it out again. I am engaged in this series of thought by a discourse which I had last week with my worthy friend Sir Andrew Freeport, a man of so much natural eloquence, good sense, and probity of mind, that I always hear him with a particular pleasure. As we were sitting together, being the sole remaining members of our club, Sir Andrew gave me an account of the many busy scenes of life in which he had been engaged, and at the same time reckoned up to me abundance of those lucky hits, which at another time he would have called pieces of good fortune; but in the temper of mind he was then, he termed them mercies, favours of Providence, and blessings upon an honest industry. Now,' says he, you must know, my good friend, I am so used to consider myself as creditor and debtor, that I often state my accounts after the same manner with regard to heaven and my own soul. In this case, when I look upon the debtor side, I find such innumerable articles, that I want arithmetic to cast them up; but when I look upon the creditor side, I find little more than blank paper. Now, though I am very well satisfied that it is not in my power to balance accounts with my Maker, I am resolved however to turn all my future endeavours that way. You must not therefore be surprised, my friend, if you hear that I am breaking myself to a more thoughtful kind of life, and if I mect you no more in this place.'