surgeon who hath practised surgery and timony of some people that has been physic both by sea and land, these twenty-thirty years lame.' When I received my four years. He (by the blessing) cures the paper, a sagacious fellow took one at the yellow jaundice, green-sickness, scurvy, dropsy, surfeits, long sea-voyages, campaigns, and women's miscarriages, lyingin, &c. as some people that has been lame these thirty years can testify; in short, he cureth all diseases incident to men, women, or children.'

same time and read till he came to the thirty years' confinement of his friends, and went off very well convinced of the doctor's sufficiency. You have many of those prodigious persons, who have had some extraordinary accident at their birth, or a great disaster in some part of their lives. If a man could be so indolent as to look Any thing, however foreign from the busiupon this havoc of the human species, ness the people want of you, will convince which is made by vice and ignorance, it them of your ability in that you profess. would be a good ridiculous work to com- There is a doctor in Mouse-Alley, near ment upon the declaration of this accom- Wapping, who sets up for curing cataplished traveller. There is something racts, upon the credit of having, as his bill unaccountably taking among the vulgar in sets forth, lost an eye in the emperor's serthose who come from a great way off. Ig-vice. His patients come in upon this, and norant people of quality, as many there he shows his muster-roll, which confirms are of such, doat excessively this way; that he was in his imperial majesty's many instances of which every man will troops; and he puts out their eyes with suggest to himself, without my enumeration of them. The ignorants of lower order, who cannot, like the upper ones, be profuse of their money to those recommended by coming from a distance, are no less complaisant than the others, for they venture their lives from the same admiration.

great success. Who would believe that a man should be a doctor for the cure of bursten children, by declaring that his father and grandfather were both bursten? But Charles Ingolston, next door to the Harp in Barbican, has made a pretty penny by that asservation. The generality The doctor is lately come from his tra- go upon their first conception, and think no vels, and has practised both by sea and farther; all the rest is granted. They take land,' and therefore cures 'the green-sick- it, that there is something uncommon in ness, long sea-voyages, campaigns, and you, and give you credit for the rest. You lyings-in. Both by sea and land!-I will may be sure it is upon that I go, when not answer for the distempers called sea- sometimes, let it be to the purpose or not, voyages and campaigns; but I dare say I keep a Latin sentence in my front; and I those of green-sickness and lying-in might was not a little pleased, when I observed be as well taken care of if the doctor staid one of my readers say, casting his eye upon ashore. But the art of managing mankind my twentieth paper, More Latin still? is only to make them stare a little, to keep What a prodigious scholar is this man!' up their astonishment, to let nothing be fa- But as I have taken much liberty with this miliar to them, but ever have something in learned doctor, I must make up all I have their sleeve, in which they must think you said by repeating what he seems to be in are deeper than they are. There is an in-earnest in, and honestly promises to those genious fellow, a barber of my acquaint- who will not receive him as a great man-ance, who, besides his broken fiddle and to wit, That from eight to twelve, and a dried sea-monster, has a twined-cord, from two to six, he attends, for the good strained with two nails at each end, over the public, to bleed for three pence.' his window, and the words 'rainy, dry, wet,' and so forth, written to denote the weather, according to the rising or falling No. 445.] Thursday, July 31, 1712. of the cord. We very great scholars are not apt to wonder at this; but I observed a very honest fellow, a chance customer, who sat in the chair before me to be shaved, fix his eye upon this miraculous performance during the operation upon his chin and face. When those and his head also were cleared of all incumbrances and excrescences, he looked at the fish, then at the fiddle, still grubbing in his pockets, and casting his eye again at the twine, and the words writ on each side; then altered his mind as to farthings, and gave my friend a silver sixpence. The business, as to keep up the amazement; and had had only the skeleton and have been contented with a But the doctor we were is to his long voyages the tes

Tanti non es, ais.

Sapis, Luperce.

T.

of

Mart. Epig. 118. 1. 1. v. ult. You say, Lupercus, what I write I'nt worth so much: you're in the right. THIS is the day on which many eminent authors will probably publish their last words. I am afraid that few of our weekly historians, who are men that above all others delight in war, will be able to subsist under the weight of a stamp, and an approaching peace. A sheet of blank paper that must have this new imprimatur clapt upon

the queen.

*

*August 1, 1712, the stamp duty here alluded to, took place, and every single half-sheet paid a half-penny to 'Have you seen the red stamp? Methinks the stamping is worth a half-penny. The Observator is fallen; the Medleys are jumbled together with the flying Post; the Examiner is deadly sick. The Spectator keeps up and doubles its price.

Swift's Works, cr. 8vo. vol. xix. p. 173.

L

1 it, before it is qualified to communicate any malcontentedness, which I am resolved thing to the public, will make its way in that none shall ever justly upbraid me with. the world but very heavily. In short, the No, I shall glory in contributing my utmost necessity of carrying a stamp, and the im- to the public weal; and, if my country reprobability of notifying a bloody battle, will, ceives five or six pounds a day by my laI am afraid, both concur to the sinking of bours, I shall be very well pleased to find those thin folios, which have every other myself so useful a member. It is a received day retailed to us the history of Europe for maxim, that no honest man should enrich several years last past. A facetious friend himself by methods that are prejudicial to of mine, who loves a pun, calls this present the community in which he lives; and by mortality among authors, The fall of the the same rule I think we may pronounce the person to deserve very well of his countrymen, whose labours bring more into the public coffers than into his own pocket.

SINCE two or three writers of comedy, who are living, have taken their farewell of the stage, those who succeed them, finding themselves incapable of rising up to their wit, humour, and good sense, have only imitated them in some of those loose unguarded strokes, in which they complied with the corrupt taste of the more vicious part of their audience. When persons of a low genius attempt this kind of writing, they know no difference between being merry and being lewd. It is with an eye to some of these degenerate compositions that I have written the following discourse. Were our English stage but half so virtuous as that of the Greeks and Romans, we should quickly see the influence of it in the behaviour of all the politer part of mankind. It would not be fashionable to ridicule religion; or its professors; the man of pleasure would not be the complete gentleman; vanity would be out of countenance; and every quality which is ornamental to human nature would meet with that esteem which is due to it.

If the English stage were under the same regulations the Athenian was formerly, it would have the same effect that had, in recommending the religion, the government, and public worship of its country. Were our plays subject to proper inspections and imitations, we might not only pass away several of our vacant hours in the highest entertainments, but should always rise from them wiser and better than we sat down to them.

that Socrates used to frequent the one, and Cicero the other.

It happened once, indeed, that Cato dropped into the Roman theatre when the Floralia were to be represented; and as, in that performance, which was a kind of religious ceremony, there were several indecent parts to be acted, the people refused to see them whilst Cato was present. Martial, on this hint, made the following epigram, which we must suppose was applied to some grave friend of his, that had been accidentally present at some such entertainment:

An accident of this nature might happen once in an age among the Greeks and Romans; but they were too wise and good to let the constant nightly entertainment be of such a nature, that people of the most sense and virtue could not be at it. Whatever vices are represented upon the stage, they ought to be so marked and branded by the poet, as not to appear either laudable or amiable in the person who is tainted with them. But if we lock into the English comedies above-mentioned, we would think they were formed upon a quite contrary maxim, and that this rule, though it held good upon the heathen stage, was not to be regarded in christian theatres. There is another rule likewise, which was observed by authors of antiquity; and which these modern geniuses have no regard to, and that was, never to choose an improper subject for ridicule. Now a subject is improper for ridicule, if it is apt to stir up horror and commiseration rather than laughter. For this reason, we do not find any comedy, in so polite an author as Terence, raised upon the violations of the marriage-bed. The falsehood of the wife or husband has given occasion to noble tragedies; but a Scipio It is one of the most unaccountable things and Lelius would have looked upon incest in our age, that the lewdness of our theatre or murder to have been as proper subjects should be so much complained of, so well for comedy. On the contrary, cuckoldem exposed, and so little redressed. It is to be is the basis of most of our modern plays. hoped, that some time or other we may be If an alderman appears upon the stage, you at leisure to restrain the licentiousness of may be sure it is in order to be cuckolded. the theatre, and make it contribute its A husband that is a little grave or elderly, assistance to the advancement of morality, generally meets with the same fate. Knights and to the reformation of the age. As mat- and baronets, country 'squires, and justices ters stand at present, multitudes are shut of the quorum, come up to town for no out from this noble diversion, by reason of other purpose. I have seen poor_Dogget those abuses and corruptions that accom- cuckolded in all these capacities. In short, pany it. A father is often afraid that his our English writers are as frequently severe daughter should be ruined by those enter- upon this innocent unhappy creature, comtainments, which were invented for the ac-monly known by the name of a cuckold, as complishment and refining of human na- the ancient comic writers were upon an ture. The Athenian and Roman plays were eating parasite, or a vain-glorious soldier. written with such a regard to morality,

At the same time the poet so contrives

P

matters, that the two criminals are the fa- | served, may lead us into very useful rules vourites of the audience. We sit still, and of life. What I shall here take notice of in wish well to them through the whole play, custom, is its wonderful efficacy in making are pleased when they meet with proper every thing pleasant to us. A person who opportunities, and out of humour when they is addicted to play or gaming, though he で are disappointed. The truth of it is, the took but little delight in it at first, by deaccomplished gentleman upon the English grees contracts so strong an inclination tostage, is the person that is familiar with wards it, and gives himself up so entirely other men's wives, and indifferent to his to it, that it seems the only end of his being. own; as the fine woman is generally a com- The love of a retired or busy life will grow position of sprightliness and falsehood. I upon a man insensibly, as he is conversant do not know whether it proceeds from bar- in the one or the other, till he is utterly -renness of invention, depravation of man- unqualified for relishing that to which he ners, or ignorance of mankind, but I have has been for some time disused. Nay, a often wondered that our ordinary poets man may smoke, or drink, or take snuff, cannot frame to themselves the idea of a till he is unable to pass away his time withfine man who is not a whore-master, or a out it; not to mention how our delight in fine woman that is not a jilt. any particular study, art, or science, rises and improves, in proportion to the application which we bestow upon it. Thus, what was at first an exercise becomes at length an entertainment. Our employments are changed into our diversions. The mind grows fond of those actions she is accustomed to, and is drawn with reluctancy from those paths in which she has been used to walk.

I have sometimes thought of compiling a system of ethicks out of the writings of those corrupt poets under the title of Stage Morality. But I have been diverted from this thought by a project which has been executed by an ingenious gentleman of my acquaintance. He has composed, it seems, the history of a young fellow who has taken all his notions of the world from the stage, and who has directed himself in every circumstance of his life and conversation, by the maxims and examples of the fine gentleman in English comedies. If I can prevail upon him to give me a copy of this new-fashioned novel, I will bestow on it a place in my works, and question not but it may have as good an effect upon the drama as Don Quixote had upon romance. C.

No. 447.] Saturday, August 2, 1712.

Φημι πολυχρονίην μελέτην εμεναι, φίλες και δη
Ταυτην ανθρωποισι τελευτωσαν φυσιν είναι.
Long exercise, my friend, inures the mind;
And what we once dislik'd we pleasing find.

Not only such actions as were at first indifferent to us, but even such as are painful, will by custom and practice become pleasant. Sir Francis Bacon observes, in his Natural Philosophy, that our taste is never pleased better than with those things which at first created disgust in it. He gives particular instances, of claret, coffee, and other liquors, which the palate seldom approves upon the first taste; but, when it has once got a relish of them, generally retains it for life. The mind is constituted after the same manner, and after having habituated herself to any particular exercise or employment, not only loses her first aversion towards it, but conceives a certain fondness and affection for it. I have heard one of the greatest geniuses this age has produced,* THERE is not a common saying which who had been trained up in all the polite has a better turn of sense in it, than what studies of antiquity, assure me, upon his we often hear in the mouths of the vulgar, being obliged to search into several rolls that 'custom is a second nature.' It is in- and records, that notwithstanding such an deed able to form the man anew, and to employment was at first very dry and irkgive him inclinations and capacities alto- some to him, he at last took an incredible gether different from those he was born pleasure in it, and preferred it even to the with. Dr. Plot, in his History of Stafford-reading of Virgil or Cicero. The reader shire, tells us of an idiot that, chancing to live within the sound of a clock, and always amusing himself with counting the hour of the day whenever the clock struck, the clock being spoiled by accident, the idiot continued to strike and count the hour without the help of it, in the same manner > as he had done when it was entire. Though If we consider attentively this property I dare not vouch for the truth of this story, of human nature, it may instruct us in very it is very certain that custom has a me- fine moralities. In the first place, I would *chanical effect upon the body at the same have no man discouraged with that kind of time that it has a very extraordinary influ-life, or series of action, in which the choice ence upon the mind. of others or his own necessities may have

}

will observe, that I have not here considered custom as it makes things easy, but as it renders them delightful; and though others have often made the same reflections, it is possible they may not have drawn those uses from it, with which I intend to fill the remaining part of this paper.

I shall in this paper consider one very engaged him. It may, perhaps, be very remarkable effect which custom has upon

human nature, and which, if rightly ob

VOL. II.

24

* Dr. Atterbury.

disagreeable to him at first; but use and application will certainly render it not only less painful, but pleasing and satisfactory. In the second place, I would recommend to every one that admirable precept which Pythagoras is said to have given to his disciples, and which that philosopher must have drawn from the observation I have enlarged upon, Optimum vitæ genus eligito, nam consuetudo faciet jucondissimum: Pitch upon that course of life which is the most excellent, and custom will render it the most delightful.' Men, whose circumstances will permit them to choose their own way of life, are inexcusable if they do not pursue that which their judgment tells them is the most laudable. The voice of reason is more to be regarded than the bent of any present inclination, since, by the rule above-mentioned, inclination will at length come over to reason, though we can never force reason to comply with inclination.

In the third place, this observation may teach the most sensual and irreligious man to overlook those hardships and difficulties which are apt to discourage him from the prosecution of a virtuous life. The gods,' said Hesiod, have placed labour before virtue: the way to her is at first rough and difficult, but grows more smooth and easy the farther you advance in it.' The man who proceeds in it with steadiness and resolution, will in a little time find that her ways are ways of pleasantness, and that all her paths are peace.'

·

To enforce this consideration, we may farther observe, that the practice of religion will not only be attended with that pleasure which naturally accompanies those actions to which we are habituated, but with those supernumerary joys of heart that rise from the consciousness of such a pleasure, from the satisfaction of acting up to the dictates of reason, and from the prospect of a happy immortality.

are to make us happy in the next. The seeds of those spiritual joys and raptures, which are to rise up and flourish in the soul to all eternity, must be planted in her during this her present state of probation. In short, heaven is not to be looked upon only as the reward, but as the natural effect of a religious life.

On the other hand, those evil spirits, who, by long custom, have contracted in the body habits of lust and sensuality, malice and revenge, and aversion to every thing that is good, just, or laudable, are naturally seasoned and prepared for pain and misery. Their torments have already taken root in them; they cannot be happy when divested of the body, unless we may suppose, that Providence will in a manner create them anew, and work a miracle in the rectification of their faculties. They may, indeed, taste a kind of malignant pleasure in those actions to which they are accustomed, whilst in this life; but when they are removed from all those objects which are here apt to gratify them, they will naturally become their own tormentors, and cherish in themselves those painful habits of mind which are called, in scripture phrase, the worm which never dies.' This notion of heaven and hell is so very conformable to the light of nature, that it was discovered by several of the most exalted heathens. It has been finely improved by many eminent divines of the last age, as in particular by archbishop Tillotson and Dr. Sherlock: but there is none who has raised such noble speculations upon it as Dr. Scot, in the first book of his Christian Life, which is one of the finest and most rational schemes of divinity that is written in our tongue, or in any other. That excellent author has shown how every particular custom and habit of virtue will, in its own nature, produce the heaven, or a state of happiness, in him who shall hereafter practise it: as on the contrary, how every custom or habit of vice will be the natural hell of him in whom it subsists. C.

In the fourth place, we may learn from this observation, which we have made on the mind of man, to take particular care, when we are once settled in a regular course of life, how we too frequently indulge ourselves in any the most innocent diversions No. 448.] Monday, August 4, 1712. and entertainments; since the mind may insensibly fall off from the relish of virtuous actions, and, by degrees, exchange that pleasure which it takes in the performance of its duty, for delights of a much more inferior and unprofitable nature.

The last use which I shall make of this remarkable property in human nature, of being delighted with those actions to which it is accustomed, is to show how absolutely necessary it is for us to gain habits of virtue in this life, if we would enjoy the pleasures of the next. The state of bliss we call heaven will not be capable of affecting those minds which are not thus qualified for it; we must, in this world, gain a relish of truth and virtue, if we would be able to taste that knowledge and perfection, which

Fædius hoc aliquid quandoque audebis.

Juv. Sat. ii. 82.

In time to greater baseness you'll proceed. THE first steps towards ill are very carefully to be avoided, for men insensibly go on when they are once entered, and do not keep up a lively abhorrence of the least unworthiness. There is a certain frivolous falsehood that people indulge themselves in, which ought to be had in greater detestation than it commonly meets with. What I mean is a neglect of promises made on small and indifferent occasions, such as parties of pleasure, entertainments, and sometimes meetings out of curiosity, in men of like faculties, to be in each other's company. There are many causes to which one