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the used by none but pedants in our own country; first and at the same time fill their writings with such

poor imaginations and conceits, as our youths are V so asharned of, before they have been two years at hich the university. Some may be apt to think that it

the is the difference of genius which produces this difugh, ference in the works of the two nations ; but to put show that there is nothing in this, if we look into stin the writings of the old Italians, such as Cicero and =ugh Virgil, we shall find that the English writers, in con their way of thinking and expressing themselves, ited resemble those authors much more than the modern this Italians pretend to do. And as for the poet himtors, self, from whom the dreams of this opera* are

im- taken, I must entirely agree with Monsieur Boiosed léau, that one verse in Virgil is worth all the clinorise quant or tinsel of Tasso. orse, But to return to the sparrows: there have been ging so many flights of them let loose in this opera, that d in it is feared the house will never get rid of them ; save and that in other plays they may make their enson; trance in very wrong and improper scenes, so as rom to be seen flying in a lady's bed-chamber, or perchable | ing upon a king's throne; besides the inconvenean niences which the heads of the audience may somenent times suffer from them. I am credibly inforined, o is that there was once a design of casting into an and opera the story of Whittington and his Catt, and pon

order to it, there had been got together a nuch great quantity of mice ; but Mr. Rich, the proi en- prietor of the playhouse, very prądently considered at a that it would be impossible for the cat to kill them ould all, and that consequently the princes of the stage end- might be as much infested with mice, as the prince ut he of the island was before the cat's arrival upon it; e he for which reason he would not permit it to be acted

in his house. And indeed I cannot blame him : very for, as he said very well upon that occasion, I do ts of not hear that any of the perforıners in our opera ns of pretend to equal the famous pied piper, who e ar- made all the mice of a great town in Germany poor follow his music, and by that means cleared the s re- place of those little noxious animals. ano.) Before I dismiss this paper, I must inform my

find reader, that I hear there is a treaty on foot be- art, tween London and Wise (who will be appointed f the gardeners of the playhouse) to furnish the opera of

Rinaldo and Armida with an orange-grove; and shall that the next time it is acted, the singing birds lines will be personated by tom-tits: the undertakers 'lo di being resolved to spare neither pains nor money borto for the gratification of the audience. ADDISON.

C. entle

• Rinaldo, an opera, by Aaron Hill. ough

+ See No 14; and Tat. No 78. rtive The records of Hamelen, an ancient city on the banks e the of the Weser, give an account of a strange accident which

befel them, on the 26th of June, 1284.

Being at that time much pestered with rats, which they andel could by no means destroy, a stranger at last undertook it, n the on the promise of reward, and immediately taking a tabret this

and pipe, the rats followed his music to the river, wlaere they

were all drowned ; but, being denied his reward, he left the vhose town in a rage, and ihreatened revenge: accordingly be

The returned next year, and by the same music enticed most of odern

the children of the town after him to the mouth of a great

cave on the top of a neighbouring hill called Koppelberg, "m of where he and they entered, but were never inore heard of.

In remembrance of this sad accident, the citizens, for many years after, dated all their public writings from the day they lost their children, as appears by many old deeds and

records. They still call the street through which the chilen he dren passed, Tabret Street; and at the unouth of the cave (now there is a monument of stone, with an inscription, iu barba

rous Latin verse, giving an account of this tragical story, by which the citizens lost 130 boys.'

The queen's gardeners.

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instead of that, you see, it is often subservient to

it; and, as unaccountable as one would think it, a No 6. WEDNESDAY, MARCH 7, 1710-11. wise man is not always a good man.' This degea

neracy is not only the guilt of particular persons, Credebant hor prande nefas, et morte piandum,

but also at some times of a whole people; and Si juvenis vetulo non assurrexerat

perhaps it may appear, upon examination, that JUV. Sat. xiii. 51.

the most polite ages are the least virtuous. This "Twas impious then (so much was age reverd)

may be attributed to the folly of admitting wit and For youth to keep their seats when an old man appear'd.

learning as merit in theinselves, without considera I know no evil under the sun so great as the ing the application of them. By this means it beabuse of the understanding, and yet there is no one comes a rule, not so much to regard what we do, vice more common. It has diffused itself through as how we do it. But this false beauty will not both sexes, and all qualities of mankind; and there pass upon men of honest minds, and true taste. Sir is hardly that person to be found, wbo is not more Richard Blackinore says, with as much good sense concerned for the reputation of wit and sense, than as virtue, 'It is a mighty shame and dishonour to of honesty and virtue. But this unhappy affecta- employ excellent faculties and abundance of wit, tion of being wise rather than honest, witty than to humour and please inen in their vices and follies. good-natured, is the source of most of the ill habits The great enemy of mankind, notwithstanding his of life. Such false impressions are owing to the wit and angelic faculties, is the most odious beabandoned writings of inen'of wit, and the awking in the whole creation.' He goes on soon af. ward imitation of the rest of mankind.

ter to say very generously, that be undertook the For this reason Sir Roger was saying last night, writing of his poem*, to rescue the Muses out of that he was of opinion noge but men of fine parts the hands of ravishers, to restore them to their sweet deserve to be hanged. The reflections of such men and chaste mansions, and to engage them in an emare so delicate upon all occurrences which they are ployment suitable to their dignity.' This certainly concerned in, that they should be exposed to more eught to be the purpose of every man who appears than ordinary infamy and punishment, for offend- in public; and whoever does not proceed upon that ing against such quick admonitions as their own foundation, injures his country as fast as he sucsouls give them, and blupting the fine edge of their ceeds in his siudies. When modesty ceases to be minds in such a manner, that they are no more the chief ornament of one sex, and integrity of the shocked at vice and folly than men of slower capa- other, society is upon a wrong basis, and we shall cities. There is no greater monster in being, than be ever after without rules to guide our judgment a very ill man of great parts. He lives like a man in what is really becoming and ornamental. Nain a palsy, with one side of him dead. While per- ture and reason direct one thing, passion and huhaps he enjoys the satisfaction of luxury, of wealth, mour another. To follow the dictates of these two of ambition, he has lost the taste of good-will, of latter, is going into a road that is both endless and friendship, of innocence. Scarecrow, the beggar intricate; when we pursue the other, our passage in Lincoln's-Inn Fields, who disabled himself in is delightful, and what we aim at easily attainable. his right leg, and asks alms all day to get himself I do not doubt but England is at present as po. a warm supper and a trull at night, is not half so lite a nation as any in the world ; bui auy man who despicable a wretch as such a man of sense. The thinks can easily see, that the affectation of being beggar has no relish above sensations; he finds rest gay and in fashion has very near eaten up our good more agreeable than motion ; and while he has a sense and our religion. Is there any thing so just, warm fire and his doxy, never reflects that he de- as that mode and gallantry should be built upon serves to be whipped. Every man who terminates exerting ourselves in what is proper and agreeable this satisfactions and enjoyments within the supply to the institutions of justice and piety among us? of buis own necessities and passions, is, says Sir Ro- And yet is there any thing more common, than that ger, in ny eye, as poor å rogue as scarecrow. we run in perfect contradiction to them ? 'All which * But,' continued be, for the loss of public and is supported by no other pretension, than that it is private virtue we are bebolden to your men of fine done with what we call a good grace. parts forsooth; it is with them no matter wbat is Nothing ought to be held laudable or becoming, done, so it be done with an air. But to me, who bui what nature itself should prompt us to think am so whimsical in a corrupt age as to act accord-so. Respect to all kind of superiors is founded, I ing to nature and reason, a selfish man, in the most think, upon instinct; and yet what is so ridiculous shining circumstance and equipage, appears in the as age! I make this abrupt transition to the mensame condition with the fellow above mentioned, tion of this vice more than any other, in order to but more contemptible in proportion to what more introduce a little story, which I think a pretty inhe robs the public of, and enjoys above him. I stance, that the most polite age is in danger of belay it down therefore for a rule, that the whole ing the most vicious. man is to move together; that every action of any It happened at Athens, during a public repreimportance, is to have a prospect of public good"; sentation of soine play exhibited in bonour of the and that the general tendency of our indiferent commonwealth, that an old gentleman came too actions ought to be agreeable to the dictates of late for a place suitable to his age and quality. reason, of religion, of good-breeding; without this, Many of the young gentlemen who observed the a man, as I have before binted, is hopping instead dificulty and confusion he was in, made signs to of walking, he is not in his entire and proper mo- him that they would accommodate him if he came tion.'

where they sat. The good inan bustled through While the honest knight was thus bewildering the crowd accordingly; but when he came to the himself in good starts, I looked attentively upon seats to which he was invited, the jest was to sit him, which made him, I thought, collect his mind a close and expose him, as he stood, out of countelittle. 'What I am at,' says he, “is to represent, nance, to the whole audience. The frolic went that I am of opinion, to polish our understandings, round the Athenian benches. But on those occaand neglect our manners, is of all things the most sions there were also particular places assigned for inexcusable. Reason should govern passion, but

* Creation.

ds was some traditionary superstition in it; and at therefore, in obedience to the lady of the house, I up disposed of my knife and fork in two parallel ed lines, which is the figure I shall always lay them ly in for the future, though I do not know any reaeir son for it. nd It is not difficult for a man to see that a person er has conceived an aversion to him. For my own 2C- part, I quickly found, by the lady's looks, that

she regarded me as a very odd kind of fellow, with an unfortunate aspect. For which reason I took my leave immediately after dinner, and withdrew to my own lodgings. Upon my return home I fell into a profound contemplation on the evils that attend these superstitious follies of mankind; how they subject us to imaginary afflictions, and additional sorrows, that do not properly come within our lot. As if the natural calamities of life were not sufficient for it, we turn the most indifferent circumstances into misfortunes, and suffer as much

from trifling accidents as from real evils. I have ce, known the shooting of a star spoil a night's rest; ery and have seen a man in love grow pale, and lose

of his appetite, upon the plucking of a merrythought. nge A screech-owl at midnight has alarmed a family aid more than a band of robbers; nay, the voice of a heir cricket hath struck more terror than the roaring of ved a lion. There is nothing so inconsiderable, which h I may not appear dreadful to an imagination that is ard filled with omens and prognostics. A rusty nail, or per a crooked pin, shoot up into prodigies.

I remember I was once in a mixt assembly, that her was full of noise and mirth, when on a sudden an was old woman unluckily observed there were thirteer hey of us in company. The remark struck a panic the terror into several who were present, insomuch go that one or two of the ladies were going to leave she, the room; but a friend of mine, taking notice that gin one of our female companions was big with child, ster affirmed there were fourteen in the room, and that, ect- instead of portending one of the company should and die, it plainly foretold one of them should be born. as a Had not my friend found this expedient to break it of the omen, I question not put half the women in er a the company would have fallen sick that very

did night. that An old maid that is troubled with the vapours, edi- produces infinite disturbances of this kind among pon her friends and neighbours. I know a maiden con- aunt of a great family, who is one of these anti. self, quated Sybils, that forebodes and prophesies from ught one end of the year to the other. She is always ver, seeing apparitions, and hearing death-watches ;

her and was the other day almost frighted out of her ever wits by the great house-dog that howled in the t an stable, at a time wben she lay ill of the tooth-ach.

Sach an extravagant cast of mind engages multiaself tudes of people, not only in impertinent terrors, tours but in supernumerary duties of life; and arises tild,' from that fear and ignorance which are natural to fter the soul of man. The horror with which we enter3 the tain the thoughts of death (or indeed of any future next evil), and the uncertainty of its approach, fill a

Al melancholy mind with innumerable apprehensions re I and suspicions, and consequently dispose it to the :dis- observation of such groundless prodigies and pre

my dictions. For as it is the chief concern of wise , the men to retrench the evils of life by the reasonings and of philosophy; it is the employment of fools to ; de multiply them by the sentiments of superstition.

For my own part, I should be very much trouside bled were I endowed with this divining quality, had though it should inform me truly of every thing there that can befal me. I would not anticipate the

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relish of any happiness, por feel the weight of servation, especially since the persons it is comany misery, before it actually arrives.

posed of are criminals too considerable for the I know but one way of fortifying my soul animadversions of our society. I mean, sir, the against these gloomy presages and terrors of mind, Midnight Mask, which has of late been frequently and that is, by securing to myself the friendship held in one of the most conspicuous parts of the and protection of that Being who disposes of town, and which I hear will be continued with adevents, and governs futurity. He sees, at one view, ditions and improvements. As all the persons the whole thread of iny existence, not only that who compose this lawless assembly are masked. part of it which I have already passed through, we dare not attack any of them in our way, lest but that which runs forward into all the depths of we should send a woman of quality to Brideseu. eternity. When I lay me down to sleep, I re- or a peer of Great Britain to the Counter; becommend myself to his care: when I wake, I give sides that their numbers are so very great, that I myself up to his directions. Amidst all the evils am afraid they would be able to rout our w bole that threaten me, I will look up to him for help, fraternity, though we were accompanied with all and question not but he svill either avert them, or our guard of constables. Both these reasons, turn them to my advantage. Though I know nei. which secure them from our authority, make them ther the time nor the manner of the death I am to obnoxious to yours; as both their disguise and their die, I am not at all solicitous about it; because I numbers will give no particular person reason to am sure that he knows them boih, and that he will think himself affronted by you. not fail to comfort and support me under them.' 'If we are riglitly inforined, the rules that are ADDISON.

G. observed by this new society are wonderfully con

trived for the advancement of cuckoldom. The wo

men either come by themselves, or are introduced by N°8. FRIDAY, MARCH 9, 1710-11. friends who are obliged to quit them, upon their first

entrance, to the conversation of any body that ad1.41 Denus ob' are pr. id erates and sepsit,

dresses himself to them. There are several rooms Et multo uelul contum Dia Judii amid,

where the parties may retire, and, if they please, cunnere ne yui co.

sbow their faces by consent. Whispers, squeezes, VIRG. Æn. I. 415.

Dods, and embraces, are the innocent freedoms of They march obscure, for Venus kindly shrouds

the place. Jo short, the whole design of this libiWith midis their persons, and involves in clouds.

dinous assembly seems to terminate in assignations

and intrigues; and I hope you will take effectual I shall here communicate to the world a couple methods, by your public advice and admonitions, to of letters, which I believe will give the reader as prevent such a promiscuous multitude of both sexes good an entertainment as any that I am able to froin meeting together in so clandestine a manner. furnish bin with, and therefore shall make no 1 am

Your bumble servant, apology for them :

"and fellow-labourer,

'T. B.' * TO THE SPECTATOR, 8c.

Not long after the perusal of this letter I re* I am one of the directors of the society for the the date and style of it, I take to be written by

ceived another upon the same subject; which, by reformation of manners, and therefore think myself a proper person for your correspondence. I

some young Templar: have thoroughly examined the present state of re

* Middle Temple, 1710-11. ligion in Great Britain, and am able to acquaint

SIR, you with the predominant vice of every market. When a man has been guilty of any vice or town in the whole island. I can tell you the pro- folly, I think the best atopeinent he can make for gress that virtue has made in all our cities, bo- it, is to warn others not to fall into the like. In roughs, and corporations; and know as well the order to this I must acquaint you, that some time evil practices that are committed, in Berwick or in February last I went to the Tuesday's inasqueExeter, as what is done in my own family. In a rade. Upon my first going in I was attacked by word, sir, I have my correspondents in the remotest half a dozen female quakers, who seemed willing parts of the nation, who send me up punctual ac- to adopt me for a brother; but, upon a nearer counts from time to time of all the little irregu- examination, I found they were a sisterhood of larities that fall under their notice in their several coquettes, disguised in that precise habit. I was districts and divisions.

soon after taken out to dance, and, as I fancied, *I am no less acquainted with the particular by a woman of the first quality, for she was very quarters and regions of this great town, than with tall, and moved gracefully. As soon as the minuet the different parts and distributions of the whole was over, we ogled one another through our nation. I can describe every parish by its in- masks; and as I am very well read in Waller, I pieties, and can tell you in which of our streets repeated to her the four following verses vut of lewdness prevails; which gaming has taken the his poem to Vandyke : possession of, and where drunkenness has got the

“ The heedless lover does not know better of them both. When I am disposed to raise Whose eyes they are that wound him so ; a fine for the poor, I know the lanes and alleys But confounded with thy art, that are inhabited by common swearers. When I

Inquires her name that has his heart.” would encourage the hospital of Bridewell, and I pronounced these words with such a languishing improve the hempen manufacture, I am very well air, that I had some reason to conclude I had acquainted with all the haunts and resorts of fe made a conquest. Sbe told me that sbe hoped my male night-walkers.

| face was not akin to my tongue, and looking upon • After this short account of myself, I must let her watch, I accidentally discovered the figure of you know, that the design of this paper is to give a corunet on the back part of it. I was so transyou inforınation of a certain irregular assembly, which I think falls very properly under your ob

• See Nos. 14 and 101.

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I town should be annually chosen out of the two e clubs; by which means the principal magistrates

are at this day coupled like rabbits, one fat and one lean,

Every one has heard of the club, or rather the n confederacy, of the Kings. This grand alliance

was formed a little after the return of King 0 Charles the Second, and admitted into it men of i all qualities and professions, provided they agreed at in the surname of King, which, as they imagined, r- sufficiently declared the owners of it to be altogeether untainted with republican and anti-monarchi

cal principles. d A christian name has likewise been often used as is a badge of distinction, and made the occasion of a s. club. That of the George's, which used to meet at to the sign of the George, on St. George's day, and

swear. Before George,' is still fresh in every one's memory.

There are at present in several parts of this city what they call Street-clubs, in which the chief in

habitants of the street converse together every in night. I remember, upon any inquiring after lodgillings in Ormond-street, the landlord, to recomht mend that quarter of the town, told me there was

at that time a very good club in it; he also told me, upon further discourse with him, that two or three noisy country squires, who were settled there the year before, bad considerably sunk tbe price of house-rent; and that the club (to prevent the like inconveniences for the future) had thoughts of taking every house that became vacant into their own hands, till they had found a tenant for it, of a sociable nature and good conversation.

The Hum Drum club, of which I was formerly an unworthy member, was made up of very honest

gentlemen of peaceable dispositions, that used to 1- sit together, smoke their pipes, and say nothing cotill midnight. The Mum club (as I am informed) to is an institution of the same nature, and as great

an enemy to noise. set After these two innocent societies, I cannot for2r, bear mentioning a very mischievous one, that was es erected in the reign of King Charles the Second ;

I mean the club of Duellists, in which none was

to be admitted that had not fought his man. The En, president of it was said to have killed half a dozen

in single combat; and as for the other members, er they took their seats according to the number of to their slain. There was likewise a side table, for re such as had only drawn blood, and shown a lauaddable ambition of taking the first opportunity to te qualify themselves for the first table.

This club, If consisting only of men of honour, did not continue his long, most of the members of it being put to the as sword, or hanged, a little after its institution. nd Our modern celebrated clubs are founded upon 18- eating and drinking, which are points wherein e most men agree, and in which the learned and ilve literate, the dull and the airy, the philosopher and if- the buffoon, can all of them bear a part. The

Kit-Cat itself * is said to have taken its original 1010, * This club, consisting of the most distinguished wits and ald statesmen among the Whigs, met in Shire-lane, and was

named from a pastry-cook (Christopher Cat), who was faen, in- part of their refreshment. The portraits of its members,

mous for making mutton-pies, wbich constantly formed a the done by Sir Godfrey Kneller, were all at Barnes, in the he possession of the late Mr. Jacob Tonson, whose father was

secretary to the club. From Mr. Tonson's, they have since ion become, by inheritance, the property of William Baker, me Esq. In order so adapt them to the height of the clubthe room, the pictures were painted of a size less than a whole,

and larger than a half length, admitting only one arm; and hence all pictures of that size have since been called Kit. Cats.

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