the discreet man, not the witty, nor the learned, nor the brave, who guides the conversation, and gives measures to the society. A man with great talents, but void of discretion, is like Polyphemus in the fable, strong and blind, endued with an irresistible force, which for want of sight is of no use to him.

his thoughts to the end of every action, and considers the most distant as well as the most immediate effects of it. He supersedes every little prospect of gain and advantage which offers itself here, if he does not find it consistent with his views of an hereafter. In a word, his hopes are full of immortality, his schemes are large and glorious, and his conduct suitable to one who knows his true interest, and how to pursue it by proper methods.

I have in this essay upon discretion, considered it both as an accomplishment and as a virtue, and have therefore described it in its full extent; not only as it is conversant about worldly affairs, but as it regards our whole existence; not only as it is the guide of a mortal creature, but as it is in general the director of a reasonable being. It is in this light that discretion is represented by the wise man, who sometimes mentions it under the name of discretion, and sometimes under that of wisdom. It is indeed (as described in the latter part of this paper) the greatest wisdom, but at the same time in the power of every one to attain. Its advantages are infinite, but its acquisition easy; or to speak of her in the words of the apocryphal writer, whom I quoted in my last Saturday's paper,* Wisdom is glorious, and never fadeth away, yet she is easily seen of them that love her, and found of such as seek her. She preventeth them that desire her, in making herself first known unto them. He that seeketh her early, shall have no great travel: for he shall find her sitting at his doors. To think therefore upon her is the perfection of wisdom, and whoso watcheth for her shall quickly be without care. For she goeth about seeking such as are worthy of her, showeth herself favourably unto them in the ways, and meeteth them in every thought.'

Though a man has all other perfections, and wants discretion, he will be of no great consequence in the world; but if he has this single talent in perfection, and but a common share of others, he may do what he pleases in his particular station of life. At the same time that I think discretion the most useful talent a man can be master of, I look upon cunning to be the accomplishment of little, mean, ungenerous minds, Discretion points out the noblest ends to us, and pursues the most proper and laudable methods of attaining them. Cunning has only private selfish aims, and sticks at nothing which may make them succeed. Discretion has large and extended views, and like a well-formed eye, commands a whole horizon. Cunning is a kind of shortsightedness, that discovers the minutest objects which are near at hand, but is not able to discern things at a distance. Discretion, the more it is discovered, gives a greater authority to the person who possesses it. Cunning, when it is once detected, loses its force, and makes a man incapable of bringing about even those events which he might have done, had he passed only for a plain man. Discretion is the perfection of reason, and a guide to us in all the duties of life: cunning is a kind of instinct, that only locks out after our immediate interest and welfare. Discretion is only found in men of strong sense and good understandings: cunning is often to be met with in brutes themselves, and in persons who are but the fewest removes from them. In short, cunning is only the mimic of discretion, and may pass upon weak men, in the same mannner as viva- No. 226.] Monday, November 19, 1711. city is often mistaken for wit, and gravity for wisdom.

a

-Mutum est pictura poema.

A picture is a poem without words.

C.

The cast of mind which is natural to a discreet man, makes him look forward into I HAVE Very often lamented and hinted futurity, and consider what will be his condition millions of ages hence, as well as my sorrow in several speculations, that the what it is at present. He knows that the art of painting is made so little use of to the improvement of our manners. When we misery or happiness which are reserved for him in another world, lose nothing of consider that it places the action of the their reality by being placed at so great person represented in the most agreeable distance from him. The objects do not aspect imaginable, that it does not only express the passion or concern as it sits upon appear little to him because they are re-him who is drawn, but has under those feamote. He considers that those pleasures tures the height of the painter's imagiand pains which lie hid in eternity, ap nation, what strong images of virtue and proach nearer to him every moment, and will be present with him in their full humanity might we not expect would be weight and measure, as much as those pains and pleasures which he feels at this very instant. For this reason he is careful to secure to himself that which is the proper happiness of his nature, and the ultimate design of his being. He carries

a

* Wisdom of Solomon, chap. vi. ver. 12-16. This paper was written for the purpose of promoting subscription to Nicholas Dorigny's set of the Cartoons, which he had got the queen's permission to engrave. The king was so much pleased with the abilities of the artist, that he conferred the honour of knighthood on him.

The whole work is an exercise of the highest piety in the painter; and all the touches of a religious mind are expressed in a manner much more forcible than can possibly be performed by the most moving eloquence. These invaluable pieces are very justly in the hands of the greatest and most pious sovereign in the world, and cannot be the frequent object of every one at their own leisure: but as an engraver is to the painter what a printer is to the author, it is worthy her majesty's name that she has encouraged that noble artist Monsieur Dorigny, to publish these works of Raphael. We have of this gentleman a piece of the Transfiguration, which, I think, is held a work second to none in the world.

instilled into the mind from the labours of | aspect. The figures of the eleven apostles the pencil? This is a poetry which would are all in the same passion of admiration, be understood with much less capacity, but discover it differently according to their and less expense of time, than what is character. Peter receives his master's taught by writings; but the use of it is gene-orders on his knees, with an admiration rally perverted, and that admirable skill mixed with a more particular attention: prostituted to the basest and most unwor- the two next with a more open ecstasy, thy ends. Who is the better man for be- though still constrained by an awe of the holding the most beautiful Venus, the best divine presence. The beloved disciple, wrought Bacchanal, the images of sleeping whom I take to be the right of the two first Cupids, languishing nymphs, or any of the figures, has in his countenance wonder representations of gods, goddesses, demi- drowned in love; and the last personage, gods, satyrs, Polyphemes, sphynxes, or whose back is towards the spectators, fawns? But if the virtues and vices, which and his side towards the presence, one are sometimes pretended to be represented would fancy to be St. Thomas as abashed under such draughts, were given us by the by the conscience of his former diffidence; painter in the characters of real life, and which perplexed concern it is possible the persons of men and women whose Raphael thought too hard a task to draw, actions have rendered them laudable or but by this acknowledgment of the diffiinfamous, we should not see a good history-culty to describe it. piece without receiving an instructive lecture. There needs no other proof of this truth, than the testimony of every reasonable creature who has seen the cartoons in her majesty's gallery at Hampton-court. These are representations of no less actions than those of our Blessed Saviour and his apostles. As I now sit and recollect the warm images which the admirable Raphael has raised, it is impossible even from the faint traces in one's memory of what one has not seen these two years, to be unmoved at the horror and reverence which appear in the whole assembly when the mercenary man fell down dead; at the amazement of the man born blind, when he first receives sight; or at the graceless indignation of the sorcerer, when he is struck blind. The Methinks it would be ridiculous in our lame when they first find strength in their people of condition, after their large bounfeet, stand doubtful of their new vigour. ties to foreigners of no name or merit, The heavenly apostles appear acting these should they overlook this occasion of havgreat things with a deep sense of the in-ing for a trifling subscription, a work which firmities which they relieve, but no value of themselves who administer to their weakness. They know themselves to be but instruments; and the generous distress they are painted in when divine honours are offered to them, is a representation in It is certainly the greatest honour we can the most exquisite degree of the beauty of do our country, to distinguish strangers of holiness. When St. Paul is preaching to merit who apply to us with modesty and the Athenians, with what wonderful art diffidence which generally accompanies meare almost all the different tempers of man- rit. No opportunity of this kind ought to kind represented in that elegant audience? be neglected; and a modest behaviour should You see one credulous of all that is said; alarm us to examine whether we do not lose another wrapt up in deep suspense; another something excellent under that disadvantage saying, there is some reason in what he in the possessor of that quality. My skill says; another angry that the apostle de-in paintings, where one is not directed by stroys a favourite opinion which he is unwilling to give up; another wholly convinced, and holding out his hands in rapture; while the generality attend, and wait for the opinion of those who are of leading characters in the assembly. I will not pretend so much as to mention that chart on which is drawn the appearance of our blessed Lord after his resurrection. Present authority, late sufferings, humility and majesty, despotic command, and divine love, are at once seated in his celestial

it is impossible for a man of sense to behold, without being warmed with the noblest sentiments that can be inspired by love, admiration, compassion, contempt of this world, and expectation of a better.

the passion of the pictures, is so inconsiderable, that I am in very great perplexity when I offer to speak of any performances of painters of lands capes, buildings, or single figures. This makes me at a loss how to mention the pieces which Mr. Boul exposes to sale by auction on Wednesday next in Chandos Street: but having heard him commended by those who have bought of him heretofore, for great integrity in his dealing, and overh eard him himself (though a laudable painter) say, nothing of his own

'DAVYTH AP SHENKYN.

'P. S. My law-suits have prought me to London, put I have lost my causes; and so have made my resolutions to go down and leap before the frosts begin; for I am apt to

take colds.'

of Crete Pritain, you must know it, there | tances. Of this make is that man who is is in Caernarvonshire a very pig mountain, very inquisitive. You may often observe, the clory of all Wales, which is named Pen- that though he speaks as good sense as any mainmaure, and you must also know, it is man upon any thing with which he is well no crete journey on foot from me; but the acquainted, he cannot trust to the range of road is stony and bad for shooes. Now, his own fancy to entertain himself upon that there is upon the forehead of this mountain foundation, but goes on still to new inquia very high rock, (like a parish steeple) ries. Thus, though you know he is fit for that cometh a huge deal over the sea; so the most polite conversation, you shall see when I am in my melancholies, and I do him very well contented to sit by a jockey, throw myself from it, I do tesire my fery giving an account of the many revolutions good friend to tell me in his Spictatur, if I in his horse's health, what potion he made shall be cure of my griefous lofes; for there him take, how that agreed with him, how is the sea clear as class, and as creen as the afterwards he came to his stomach and his leek. Then likewise if I be drown and exercise, or any the like impertinence; and preak my neck, if Mrs. Gwinifrid will not be as well pleased as if you talked to him lofe me afterwards. Pray be speedy in on the most important truths. This humour your answers, for I am in crete haste, and is far from making a man unhappy, though it is my tesires to do my business without it may subject him to raillery; for he geneloss of time. I remain with cordial affec- rally falls in with a person who seems to be tions, your ever lofing friend, born for him, which is your talkative fellow. It is so ordered, that there is a secret bent, as natural as the meeting of different sexes, in these two characters, to supply each other's wants. I had the honour the other day to sit in a public room, and saw an inquisitive man look with an air of satisfaction upon the approach of one of these Ridicule, perhaps, is a better expedient talkers. The man of ready utterance sat against love than sober advice, and I am of down by him, and rubbing his head, leaning opinion, that Hudibras and Don Quixote on his arm, and making an uneasy countemay be as effectual to cure the extrava-nance, he began; There is no manner of gances of this passion, as any of the old phi- news to-day. I cannot tell what is the matlosophers. I shall therefore publish very ter with me, but I slept very ill last night; speedily the translation of a little Greek manuscript, which is sent me by a learned friend. It appears to have been a piece of those records which were kept in the temple of Apollo, that stood upon the promontory of Leucate. The reader will find it to be a summary account of several persons who tried the lover's leap, and of the success they found in it. As there seem to be in it some anachronisms, and deviations from the ancient orthography, I am not wholly satisfied myself that it is authentic, and not rather the production of one of those Grecian sophisters, who have imposed upon the world several spurious works of this nature. I speak this by way of precaution, because I know there are several writers of uncommon erudition, who would not fail to expose my ignorance, if they caught me tripping in a matter of so great moment. C.

No. 228.] Wednesday, November 21, 1711.

Percunctatorum fugito, nam garrulus idem est.
Hor. Lib. 1. Ep. xviii. 69.

Th' inquisitive will blab; from such refrain;
Their leaky ears no secret can retain.-Shard.
THERE is a creature who has all the or-
gans of speech, a tolerable good capacity
for conceiving what is said to it, together
with a pretty proper behaviour in all the
occurrences of common life; but naturally
very vacant of thought in itself, and there-
fore forced to apply itself to foreign assis-

whether I caught cold or no, I know not, but I fancy I do not wear shoes thick enough for the weather, and I have coughed all this week. It must be so, for the custom of washing my head winter and summer with cold water, prevents any injury from the season entering that way: so it must come in at my feet; but I take no notice of it: as it comes so it goes. Most of our evils proceed from too much tenderness; and our faces are naturally as little able to resist the cold as other parts. The Indian answered very well to an European, who asked him how he could go naked, "I am all face."'

I observed this discourse was as welcome to my general inquirer as any other of more consequence could have been; but somebody calling our talker to another part of the room, the inquirer told the next man who sat by him, that Mr. Such-a-one, who was just gone from him, used to wash his head in cold water every morning; and so repeated almost verbatim all that had been said to him. The truth is, the inquisitive are the funnels of conversation: they do not take in any thing for their own use, but merely to pass it to another. They are the channels through which all the good and evil that is spoken in town are conveyed. Such as are offended at them, or think they suffer by their behaviour, may themselves mend that inconvenience; for they are not a malicious people, and if you will supply them, you may contradict any thing they have said before by their own mouths. Á farther ac

count of a thing is one of the gratefullest goods that can arrive to them; and it is seldom that they are more particular than to say, 'The town will have it, or I have it from a good hand;' so that there is room for the town to know the matter more particularly, and for a better hand to contradict what was said by a good one.

that Caius Gracchus, the Roman, was frequently hurried by his passion into so loud and tumultuous a way of speaking, and so strained his voice as not to be able to proceed. To remedy this excess, he had an ingenious servant, by name Licinius, always attending him with a pitch-pipe, or instrument to regulate the voice; who, whenever I have not known this humour more ridi- he heard his master begin to be high, imculous than in a father, who has been ear-mediately touched a soft note, at which 'tis nestly solicitous to have an account how his said, Caius would presently abate and grow son has passed his leisure hours; if it be in calm. a way thoroughly insignificant, there cannot be a greater joy than an inquirer discovers in seeing him follow so hopefully his own steps. But this humour among men is most pleasant when they are saying something which is not wholly proper for a third person to hear, and yet is in itself indifferent. The other day there came in a well-dressed young fellow, and two gentlemen of this species immediately fell a whispering his pedigree. I could overhear, by breaks, She was his aunt;' then an answer, Ay, she was of the mother's side;' then again in a little lower voice, His father wore generally a darker wig;' answer, "Not much, but this gentleman wears higher heels to

his shoes.

As the inquisitive, in my opinion, are such merely from a vacancy in their own imaginations, there is nothing methinks so dangerous as to communicate secrets to them; for the same temper of inquiry makes them as impertinently communicative: but no man, though he converses with them, need put himself in their power, for they will be contented with matters of less moment as well. When there is fuel enough, no matter what it is.-Thus the ends of sentences in the newspapers, as, This wants confirmation,'—This occasions many speculations,' and 'Time will discover the event,' are read by them, and considered not as mere expletives.

One may see now and then this humour accompanied with an insatiable desire of knowing what passes, without turning it to any use in the world but merely their own entertainment. A mind which is gratified this way is adapted to humour and pleasantry, and formed for an unconcerned character in the world; and like myself to be a mere Spectator. This curiosity, without malice or self-interest, lays up in the imagination a magazine of circumstances which cannot but entertain when they are produced in conversation. If one were to know, from the man of the first quality to the meanest

for

Upon recollecting this story, I have frequently wondered that this useful instrument should have been so long discontinued, especially since we find that this good office of Licinius has preserved his memory many hundred years, which, methinks, should have encouraged some one to have revived it, if not for the public good, yet for his own credit. It may be objected, that our loud talkers are so fond of their own noise, that they would not take it well to be checked by their servants. But granting this to be true, surely any of their hearers have a very good title to play a soft note in their own defence. To be short, no Licinius appearing, and the noise increasing, I was resolved to give this late long vacation to the good of my country; and I have at length by the assistance of an ingenious artist (who works for the Royal Society,) almost completed my design, and shall be ready in a short time to furnish the public with what number of these instruments they please, either to lodge at coffee-houses, or carry for their own private use. In the mean time I shall pay that respect to several gentlemen, who I know will be in danger of offending against this instrument, to give them notice of it by private letters, in which I shall only write, Get a Licinius."

'I should now trouble you no longer, but that I must not conclude without desiring you to accept one of these pipes, which shall be left for you with Buckley; and which I hope will be serviceable to you, since as you are silent yourself, you are most open to the insults of the noisy. I am, W. B.' sir, &c.

'I had almost forgot to inform you, that as an improvement in this instrument, there will be a particular note, which I call a hush-note; and this is to be made use of against a long story, swearing, obsceneness,

and the like.

-Spirat adhuc amor,

Vivuntque commissi calores

T.

servant, the different intrigues, sentiments, No. 229.] Thursday, November 22, 1711. pleasures, and interests of mankind, would it not be the most pleasing entertainment maginable to enjoy so constant a farce, as the observing mankind much more different from themselves in their secret thoughts and public actions, than in their night-caps and long periwigs?

Æoliæ fidibus puellæ.-Hor. Lib. 4. Od. ix. 10.
Nor Sappho's amorous flames decay,
Her living songs preserve their charming art,
Her verse still breathes the passions of her heart.
Francis.

AMONG the many famous pieces of an

MR. SPECTATOR,-Plutarch tells us, tiquity which are still to be seen at Rome,