tertainments, and existence turns flat and insipid. We may see this exemplified in mankind. The child, let him be free from pain, and gratified in his change of toys, is diverted with the smallest trifle. Nothing disturbs the mirth of the boy but a little punishment or confinement. The youth must have more violent pleasures to employ his time. The man loves the hurry of an active life, devoted to the pursuits of wealth or ambition. And, lastly, old age, having lost its capacity for these avocations, becomes its own unsupportable burden. This variety may in part be accounted for by the vivacity and decay of the faculties; but I believe is chiefly owing to this, that the longer we have been in possession of being, the less sensible is the gust we have of it; and the more it requires of adventitious amusements to relieve us from the satiety and weariness it brings along with it. what doth honour to these glorified spirits; provided still it be remembered, that their desire of more proceeds not from their disrelishing what they possess; and the pleasure of a new enjoyment is not with them measured by its novelty, (which is a thing merely foreign and accidental) but by its real intrinsic value. After an acquaintance of many thousand years with the works of God, the beauty and magnificence of the creation fills them with the same pleasing wonder and profound awe, which Adam felt himself seized with as he first opened his eyes upon this glorious scene. Truth captivates with unborrowed charms, and whatever hath once given satisfaction will always do it. In all which they have manifestly the advantage of us, who are so much governed by sickly and changeable appetites, that we can with the greatest coldness behold the stupendous displays of OmnipoAnd as novelty is of a very powerful, so tence, and be in transports at the puny it is of a most extensive influence. Moral- essays of human skill; throw aside speculaists have long since observed it to be the tions of the sublimest nature and vastest source of admiration, which lessens in pro- importance into some obscure corner of the portion to our familiarity with objects, and mind, to make room for new notions of no upon a thorough acquaintance is utterly ex- consequence at all; are even tired of health, tinguished. But I think it hath not been so because not enlivened with alternate pain; commonly remarked, that all the other pas- and prefer the first reading of an indifferent sions depend considerably on the same cir-author to the second or third perusal of one cumstance. What is it but novelty that awakens desire, enhances delight, kindles Our being thus formed serves many anger, provokes envy, inspires horror? To useful purposes in the present state. It this cause we must ascribe it, that love lan- contributes not a little to the advancement guishes with fruition, and friendship itself of learning; for, as Cicero takes notice, that is recommended by intervals of absence: which makes men willing to undergo the hence, monsters, by use, are beheld with- fatigues of philosophical disquisitions, is not out loathing, and the most enchanting beauty so much the greatness of objects as their without rapture. That emotion of the spi- novelty. It is not enough that there is field rits, in which passion consists, is usually and game for the chase, and that the unthe effect of surprise, and, as long as it con- derstanding is prompted with a restless tinues, heightens the agreeable or disagree-thirst of knowledge, effectually to rouse the able qualities of its object; but as this emo-soul, sunk into a state of sloth and indolence; tion ceases, (and it ceases with the novelty) things appear in another light, and affect us even less than might be expected from their proper energy, for having moved us too much before. 'It may not be a useless inquiry, how far the love of novelty is the unavoidable growth of nature, and in what respects it is peculiarly adapted to the present state. To me it seems impossible, that a reasonable creature should rest absolutely satisfied in any acquisitions whatever, without endeavouring farther; for, after its highest improvements, the mind hath an idea of an infinity of things still behind, worth knowing, to the knowledge of which therefore it cannot be indifferent; as by climbing up a hill in the midst of a wide plain, a man hath his prospect enlarged, and together with that, the bounds of his desires. Upon this account, I cannot think he detracts from the state of the blessed, who conceives them to be perpetually employed in fresh searches into nature, and to eternity advancing into the fathomless depths of the divine perfections. In this thought there is nothing but whose merit and reputation are established. it is also necessary that there be an uncommon pleasure annexed to the first appearance of truth in the mind. This pleasure being exquisite for the time it lasts, but transient, it hereby comes to pass that the mind grows into an indifference to its former notions, and passes on after new discoveries, in hope of repeating the delight. It is with knowledge as with wealth, the pleasure of which lies more in making endless additions than in taking a review of our old store. There are some inconveniences that follow this temper, if not guarded against, particularly this, that through too great an eagerness of something new, we are many times impatient of staying long enough upon a question that requires some time to resolve it; or, which is worse, persuade our selves that we are masters of the subject before we are so, only to be at the liberty of going upon a fresh scent: in Mr. Locke's words, "We see a little, presume a great deal, and so jump to the conclusion." 'A farther advantage of our inclination for novelty, as at present circumstantiated, is, that it annihilates all the boasted distinc tions among mankind. Look not up with | by walking too late in a dewy evening envy to those above thee! Sounding titles, amongst his reapers. I must inform you stately buildings, fine gardens, gilded cha- that his greatest pleasure was in husbandry riots, rich equipages, what are they? They and gardening. He had some humours dazzle every one but the possessor: to him which seemed inconsistent with that good that is accustomed to them they are cheap sense he was otherwise master of. His unand regardless things; they supply him not easiness in the company of women was very with brighter images, or more sublime satis- remarkable in a man of such perfect goodfactions, than the plain man may have, breeding; and his avoiding one particular whose small estate will just enable him to walk in his garden, where he had used to support the charge of a simple unencum- pass the greatest part of his time, raised bered life. He enters heedless into his abundance of idle conjectures in the village rooms of state, as you or I do under our where he lived. Upon looking over his papoor sheds. The noble paintings and costly pers we found out the reason, which he furniture are lost on him; he sees them not; never intimated to his nearest friends. He as how can it be otherwise, when by cus- was, it seems, a passionate lover in his tom a fabric infinitely more grand and youth, of which a large parcel of letters he finished, that of the universe, stands unob- left behind him are a witness. I send you a served by the inhabitants, and the everlast- copy of the last he ever wrote upon that ing lamps of heaven are lighted up in vain, | subject, by which you will find that he confor any notice that mortals take of them? cealed the true name of his mistress under Thanks to indulgent nature, which not only that of Zelinda. placed her children originally upon a level, but still, by the strength of this principle, in a great measure preserves it, in spite of all the care of man to introduce artificial distinctions. You "A long month's absence would be insupportable to me, if the business I am employed in were not for the service of my Zelinda, and of such a nature as to place her every moment in my mind. I have furTo add no more-is not this fondness for nished the house exactly according to your novelty, which makes us out of conceit with fancy, or, if you please, my own; for I have all we already have, a convincing proof of a long since learned to like nothing but what future state? Either man was made in vain, you do. The apartment designed for your or this is not the only world he was made use is so exact a copy of that which you for: for there cannot be a greater instance live in, that I often think myself in your of vanity than that to which man is liable, house when I step into it, but sigh when I to be deluded from the cradle to the grave find it without its proper inhabitant. with fleeting shadows of happiness. His will have the most delicious prospect from pleasures, and those not considerable nei-your closet window that England affords: I ther, die in the possession, and fresh enjoy-am sure I should think it so, if the landscape ments do not rise fast enough to fill up half that shows such variety did not at the same his life with satisfaction. When I see per- time suggest to me the greatness of the sons sick of themselves any longer than they space that lies between us. are called away by something that is of force to chain down the present thought; when I see them hurry from country to town, and then from the town back again into the country, continually shifting postures, and placing life in all the different lights they can think of; "Surely," say I to myself, "life is vain, and the man beyond expression stupid, or prejudiced, who from the vanity of life cannot gather that he is designed for immortality." "The gardens are laid out very beautifully; I have dressed up every hedge in woodbines, sprinkled bowers and arbours in every corner, and made a little paradise around me: yet I am still like the first man in his solitude, but half blessed without a partner in my happiness. I have directed one walk to be made for two persons, where I promise ten thousand satisfactions to myself in your conversation. I already take my evening's turn in it, and have worn a path upon the edge of this little alley, while I soothed myself with the thought of your walking by my side. I have held many imaginary discourses with you in this retirement; and when I have been weary, have sat down with you in the midst of a row of jessamines. The many expressions of joy and rapture I use in these silent conversations have made me, for some time, the talk of the parish; but a neighbouring THE following account, which came to young fellow, who makes love to the farmy hands some time ago, may be no dis-mer's daughter, hath found me out, and agreeable entertainment to such of my made my case known to the whole neighreaders as have tender hearts, and nothing bourhood. to do. No. 627.] Wednesday, December 1, 1714. He, underneath the beaten shade, alone, 'MR. SPECTATOR,-A friend of mine died of a fever last week, which he caught "In planting of the fruit trees, I have not forgot the peach you are so fond of. I have made a walk of elms along the river side, and intend to sow all the place about | sion. As we are now in the beginning of with cowslips, which I hope you will like existence, so shall we always appear to as well as that I have heard you talk of by ourselves as if we were for ever entering your father's house in the country. upon it. After a million or two of centu"Oh! Zelinda, what a scheme of delight ries, some considerable things, already past, have I drawn up in my imagination! What may slip out of our memory, which if it be day-dreams do I indulge myself in! When not strengthened in a wonderful manner, will the six weeks be at an end, that lie may possibly forget that ever there was a between me and my promised happiness! sun or planets; and yet, notwithstanding the "How could you break off so abruptly in long race we shall then have run, we shall your last, and tell me you must go and dress still imagine ourselves just starting from for the play? If you loved as I do, you the goal, and find no proportion between would find no more company in a crowd that space which we know had a beginning, than I have in my solitude. I am, &c." and what we are sure will never have an end. 'On the back of this letter is written, in the hand of the deceased, the following piece of history: "Mem. Having waited a whole week for an answer to this letter, I hurried to town, where I found the perfidious creature married to my rival. I will bear it as becomes a man, and endeavour to find out happiness for myself in that retirement which I had prepared in vain for a false, ungrateful woman." I am, &c.' No. 628.] Friday, December 3, 1714. Labitur et labetur in omne volubilis ævum. 'MR. SPECTATOR,-There are none of your speculations which please me more than those upon infinitude and eternity. You have already considered that part of eternity which is past, and I wish you would give us your thoughts upon that which is to come. 'Your readers will perhaps receive greater pleasure from this view of eternity than the former, since we have every one of us a concern in that which is to come: whereas a speculation on that which is past is rather curious than useful. 'Besides, we can easily conceive it possible for successive duration never to have an end; though, as you have justly observed, that eternity which never had a beginning is altogether incomprehensible; that is, we can conceive an eternal duration which may be, though we cannot an eternal duration which hath been; or, if I may use the the philosophical terms, we may apprehend a potential though not an actual eternity. This notion of a future eternity, which is natural to the mind of man, is an unanswerable argument that he is a being designed for it; especially if we consider that he is capable of being virtuous or vicious here; that he hath faculties improvable to all eternity; and, by a proper or wrong employment of them, may be happy or miserable throughout that infinite duration. Our idea indeed of this eternity is not of an adequate or fixed nature, but is perpetually But I shall leave this subject to your management, and question not but you will throw it into such lights as shall at once improve and entertain your reader. of the speech of Cato on this occasion, I have, enclosed, sent you a translation* which hath accidentally fallen into my hands, and which, for conciseness, purity, and elegance of phrase, cannot be sufficiently admired. ACT V. SCEN. I. CATO solus, &c. 'Sic, sic se habere rem necesse prorsus est, Natura? Quorsum hæc dulcis expectatio; 'Quæ demigrabitur alia hinc in corpora? *This translation was by Mr. (afterwards Dr.) Bland, growing and enlarging itself toward the ob- once schoolmaster, then provost of Eton, and dean of ject, which is too big for human comprehen- | Durham. 'It must be so-Plato, thou reason'st wellElse whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire, This longing after immortality? Or whence this secret dread, and inward horror, Through what variety of untry'd being, Through all her works,) he must delight in virtue; The wrecks of matter and the crush of worlds.' No. 629.] Monday, December 6, 1714. --Since none the living dare implead Arraign them in the persons of the dead.-Dryden. NEXT to the people who want a place, there are none to be pitied more than those who are solicited for one. A plain answer with a denial in it is looked upon as pride, and a civil answer as a promise. Nothing is more, ridiculous than the pretensions of people upon these occasions. Every thing a man hath suffered, whilst his enemies were in play, was certainly brought about by the malice of the opposite party. A bad cause would not have been fost, if such a one had not been upon the bench; nor a profligate youth disinherited, if he had not got drunk every night by toasting an outed ministry. I remember a tory, who, having been fined in a court of justice for a prank that deserved the pillory, desired upon the merit of it to be made a justice of the peace when his friends came into power; and shall never forget a whig criminal, who, upon being indicted for a rape, told his friends You see what a man suffers for sticking to his principles.' The truth of it is, the sufferings of a man in a party are of a very doubtful nature. When they are such as have promoted a good cause, and fallen upon a man undeservedly, they have a right to be heard and recompensed beyond any other pretensions. But when they rise out of rashness or indiscretion, and the pursuit of such measures as have rather ruined than promoted the interest they aim at, which hath always VOL. II. 54 | been the case of many great sufferers, they only serve to recommend them to the children of violence or folly. I have by me a bundle of memorials presented by several cavaliers upon the restoration of king Charles II. which may serve as so many instances to our present purpose. Among several persons and pretensions recorded by my author, he mentions one of a very great estate, who, for having roasted an ox whole, and distributed a hogshead upon king Charles's birth-day, desired to be provided for as his majesty in his great wisdom should think it. Another put in to be prince Henry's governor, for having dared to drink his health in the worst of times. A third petitioned for a colonel's commission, for having cursed Oliver Cromwell, the day before his death, on a public bowling-green. But the most whimsical petition I have met with is that of B. B., esq. who desired the honour of knighthood, for having cuckoled Sir T. W. a notorious roundhead. There is likewise the petition of one who, having let his beard grow from the martyrdom of king Charles the first, until the restoration of king Charles the second, desired in consideration thereupon to be made a privy-counsellor. I must not omit a memorial setting forth that the memorialist had, with great despatch, carried a letter from a certain lord to a certain lord, wherein, as it afterwards appeared, measures were concerted for the restoration, and without which he verily believes that happy revolution had never been effected; who thereupon humbly prays to be made postmaster-general. A certain gentleman, who seems to write with a great deal of spirit, and uses the words gallantry and gentleman-like very often in his petition, begs that (in consideration of his having worn his hat for ten years past in the royal cavalier-cock, to his great danger and detriment) he may be made a captain of the guards. I shall close my account of this collection of memorials with the copy of one petition at length, which I recommend to my reader as a very valuable piece. "The Petition of E. H. Esq. 'HUMBLY SHOWETH, 'That your petitioner's father's brother's uncle, colonel W. H. lost the third finger of his left hand at Edgehill fight. That your petitioner, notwithstanding the smallness of his fortune (he being a younger brother,) always kept hospitality, and drank confusion to the roundheads in half a score bumpers every Sunday in the year, as several ĥonest gentlemen (whose names are underwritten) are ready to testify. That your petitioner is remarkable in his country, for having dared to treat Sir P. P. a cursed sequestrator, and three You have, I presume, already preventmembers of the assembly of divines, with ed me in an argument upon this occasion, brawn and minced pies upon new-year's which some divines have successfully adday. vanced upon a much greater, that musical sacrifice and adoration has claimed a place in the laws and customs of the most different nations; as the Grecians and Romans of the profane, the Jews and Christians of the sacred world, did as unanimously agree in this as they disagreed in all other parts of their economy. That your said humble petitioner hath been five times imprisoned in five several county-gaols, for having been a ringleader in five different riots; into which his zeal for the royal cause hurried him, when men of greater estates had not the courage to rise. "That he, the said E. H. hath had six duels and four-and-twenty boxing matches in defence of his majesty's title; and that he received such a blow upon the head at a bonfire in Stratford-upon-Avon, as he hath been never the better for from that day to this. That your petitioner hath been so far from improving his fortune, in the late damnable times, that he verily believes, and hath good reason to imagine, that if he had been master of an estate, he had infallibly been plundered and sequestered. Your petitioner, in consideration of his said merits and sufferings, humbly requests that he may have the place of receiver of the taxes, collector of the customs, clerk of the peace, deputy lieutenant, or whatsoever else he shall be thought qualified for. ~ And your petitioner shall ever pray, &c.' HAVING no spare time to write any thing of my own, or to correct what is sent me by others, I have thought fit to publish the following letters: 'Oxford, Nov. 22. 'SIR,-If you would be so kind to me, as to suspend that satisfaction which the learned world must receive in reading one of your speculations, by publishing this endeavour, you will very much oblige and improve one, who has the boldness to hope that he may be admitted into the number of your correspondents. I have often wondered to hear men of good sense and good nature profess a dislike to music, when at the same time they do not scruple to own that it has the most agreeable and improving influences over their minds: it seems to me an unhappy contradiction, that those persons should have an indifference for an art which raises in them such a variety of sublime pleasures. 'However, though some few, by their own or the unreasonable prejudices of others, may be led into a distaste for those musical societies which are erected merely for entertainment, yet sure I may venture to say, that no one can have the least reason for disaffection to that solemn kind of melody which consists of the praises of our Creator. 'I know there are not wanting some who are of opinion that the pompous kind of music which is in use in foreign churches, is the most excellent, as it most affects cur senses. But I am swayed by my judgment to the modesty which is observed in the musical part of our devotions. Methinks there is something very laudable in the custom of a voluntary before the first lesson; by this we are supposed to be prepared for the admission of those divine truths which we are shortly to receive. We are then to cast all worldly regards from off our hearts, all tumults within are then becalmed, and there should be nothing near the soul but peace and tranquillity. So that in this short office of praise the man is raised above himself, and is almost lost already amidst the joys of futurity. 'I have heard some nice observers frequently commend the policy of our church in this particular, that it leads us on by such easy and regular methods that we are perfectly deceived into piety. When the spirits begin to languish, (as they too often do with a constant series of petitions,) she takes care to allow them a pious respite, and relieves them with the raptures of an anthem. Nor can we doubt that the sublimest poetry, softened in the most moving strains of music, can never fail of humbling or exalting the soul to any pitch of devo tion. Who can hear the terrors of the Lord of Hosts described in the most expressive melody, without being awed into a veneration? Or who can hear the kind and endearing attributes of a merciful father, and not be softened into love towards him? 'As the rising and sinking of the passions the casting soft or noble hints into the scul is the natural privilege of music in general, so more particularly of that kind which is employed at the altar. Those impressions which it leaves upon the spirits are more deep and lasting, as the grounds from which it receives its authority are founded more upon reason. It diffuses a calmness all around us, it makes us drop all those vain or immodest thoughts which would be a hinderance to us in the performance of that great duty of thanksgiving, which, as we are informed by our Almighty Benefactor, is the most acceptable return which can be made for those infinite stores of blessings which he daily condescends to pour down upon his creatures. When we make use of this pathetical method of addressing our selves to him, we can scarce contain from |