the world, received at that time a present more valuable than the possession of both the Indies. She was then in her early bloom, with an understanding and discretion very little inferior to the most experienced matrons. She was not beholden to the charms of her sex, that her company was preferable to any Osmyn could meet with abroad; for, were all she said considered without regard to her being a woman, it might stand the examination of the severest judges. She had all the beauty of her own sex, with all the conversation-accomplishments of ours. But Osmyn very soon grew surfeited with the charms of her person by possession, and of her mind by want of taste; for he was one of that loose sort of men, who have but one reason for setting any value upon the fair sex; who consider even brides but as new women, and consequently neglect them when they cease to be such. All the merit of Elmira could not prevent her becoming a mere wife within few months after her nuptials; and Osmyn had so little relish for her conversation, that he complained of the advantages of it. My spouse,' said he to one of his companions, is so very discreet, so good, so virtuous, and I know not what, that I think her person is rather the object of esteem than of love; and there is such a thing as a merit which causes rather distance than passion.' But there being no medium in the state of matrimony, their life began to take the usual gradations to become the most irksome of all beings. They grew in the first place very complaisant; and having at heart a certain knowledge that they were indifferent to each other, apologies were made for every little circumstance which they thought betrayed their mutual coldness. This lasted but few months, when they showed a difference of opinion in every trifle; and, as a sign of certain decay of affection, the word 'perhaps,' was introduced in all their discourse. I have a mind to go to the park,' says she; but perhaps, my dear, you will want the coach on some other occasion.' He' would very willingly carry her to the play; but perhaps she had rather go to lady Centaur's and play at Ombre.' They were both persons of good discerning, and soon found that they mortally hated each other by their manner of hiding it. Certain it is, that there are some genios which are not capable of pure affection, and a man is born with talents for it as much as for poetry or any other science.

has a prevailing power over the strength of the head, yet the strength of the head has but small force against the weakness of the heart. Osmyn, therefore, struggled in vain to revive departed desire; and for that reason resolved to retire to one of his estates in the country, and pass away his hours of wedlock in the noble diversions of the field; and in the fury of a disappointed lover, made an oath to leave neither stag, fox, or hare living, during the days of his wife. Besides that country-sports would be an amusement, he hoped also that his spouse would be half killed by the very sense of seeing this town no more, and would think her life ended as soon as she left it. He communicated his design to Elmira, who received it, as now she did all things, like a person too unhappy to be relieved or afflicted by the circumstance of place. This unexpected resignation made Osmyn resolve to be as obliging to her as possible; and if he could not prevail upon himself to be kind, he took a resolution at least to act sincerely, and communicate frankly to her the weakness of his temper, to excuse the indifference of his behaviour. He disposed his household in the way to Rutland, so as he and his lady travelled only in the coach for the convenience of discourse, They had not gone many miles out of town, when Osmyn spoke to this purpose:

'My dear, I believe I look quite as silly now I am going to tell you I do not love you, as when I first told you I did. We are now going into the country together, with only one hope for making this life agreeable, survivorship: desire is not in our power; mine is all gone for you. What shall we do to carry it with decency to the world, and hate one another with discretion?'

The lady answered, without the least observation on the extravagance of his speech:

'My dear, you have lived most of your days in a court, and I have not been wholly unacquainted with that sort of life. In courts, you see good-will is spoken with great warmth, ill-will covered with great civility. Men are long in civilities to those they hate, and short in expressions of kindness to those they love. Therefore, my dear, let us be well-bred still; and it is no matter, as to all who see us, whether we love or hate and to let you see how much you are beholden to me for my conduct, I have both hated and despised you, my dear, this half-year; and yet neither in language or beOsmyn began too late to find the imperfec-haviour has it been visible but that I loved tion of his own heart, and used all the methods in the world to correct it, and argue himself into return of desire and passion for his wife, by the contemplation of her excellent qualities, his great obligatious to her, and the high value he saw all the world except himself did put upon her. But such is man's unhappy condition, that though the weakness of the heart

you tenderly. Therefore, as I know you go out of town to divert life in pursuit of beasts, and conversation with men just above them; so, my life, from this moment, I shall read all the learned cooks who have ever writ; study broths, plasters, and conserves, until, from a fine lady, I become a notable woman. We must take our minds a note or two lower, or

Q

we shall be tortured by jealousy or anger. Thus, I am resolved to kill all keen passions, by employing my mind on little subjects, and lessening the easiness of my spirit; while you, my dear, with much ale, exercise, and ill company, are so good as to endeavour to be as contemptible as it is necessary for my quiet I should think you.'

At Rutland they arrived, and lived with great but secret impatience for many successive years, until Osmyn thought of a happy expedient to give their affairs a new turn. One day he took Elmira aside, and spoke as follows:

'My dear, you see here the air is so temperate and serene; the rivulets, the groves, and soil, so extremely kind to nature, that we are stronger and firmer in our health since we left the town; so that there is no hope of a release in this place; but, if you will be so kind as to go with me to my estate in the hundreds of Essex, it is possible some kind damp may one day or other relieve us. If you will condescend to accept of this offer, I will add that whole estate to your joiuture in this country.'

Elmira, who was all goodness, accepted the offer, removed accordingly, and has left her spouse in that place to rest with his fathers.

This is the real figure in which Elmira ought to be beheld in this town; and not thought guilty of an indecorum, in not professing the sense, or bearing the habit of sorrow, for one who robbed her of all the endearments of life, and gave her only common civility, instead of complacency of manners, dignity of passion, and that constant assemblage of soft desires and affections which all feel who love, but none can express.

of what we are to expect in a person of his way
of thinking. Shakspeare is your pattern. In
the tragedy of Cæsar he introduces his hero
in his night-gown. He had at that time al
the power of Rome: deposed consuls, subor.
dinate generals, and captive princes might
have preceded him; but his genius was above
such mechanic methods of showing greatness.
Therefore, he rather presents that great soul
debating upon the subject of life and death
with his intimate friends, without endeavouring
to prepossess his audience with empty show
and pomp. When those who attend him talk
of the many omens which had appeared that
day, he answers:

"Cowards die many times before their deaths;
The valiant never taste of death but once.
Of all the wonders that I yet have heard,

It seems to me most strange that men should fear;
Seeing that death, a necessary end,

Will come, when it will come.

'When the hero has spoken this sentiment, there is nothing that is great which cannot be expected from one, whose first position is the contempt of death to so high a degree, as to make his exit a thing wholly indifferent, and not a part of his care, but that of heaven and fate.'

St. James's Coffee-house, August 10. Letters from Brussels of the fifteenth instant, N. S. say, that major-general Ravignan re. turned on the eighth, with the French king's answer to the intended capitulation for the citadel of Tournay, which is that he does not think fit to sign that capitulation, except the allies will grant a cessation of arms in general, during the time in which all acts of hostility were to have ceased between the citadel and Will's Coffee-house, August 10. the besiegers. Soon after the receipt of this Mr. Truman, who is a mighty admirer of news, the cannon on each side began to play. dramatic poetry, and knows I am about a tra- There are two attacks against the citadel, conigedy, never meets me, but he is giving admo-manded by general Lottum and general Schuynitions and hints for my conduct. 'Mr. Bicker-lemberg, which are both carried on with great staff,' said he, 'I was reading last night your second act you were so kind to lend me: but I find you depend mightily upon the retinue of your hero to make bim magnificent. You make guards, and ushers, and courtiers, and commons, and nobles, march before; and then enters your prince, and says, they cannot defend him from his love. Why, pr'ythee, Isaac, who ever thought they could? Place me your loving monarch in a solitude; let him have no sense at all of his grandeur, but let it be eaten up with his passion. He must value himself as the greatest of lovers, not as the first of princes: and then let him say a more tender thing than ever man said before-for bis feather and eagle's beak are nothing at all. The man is to be expressed by his sentiments and affections, and not by his fortune or equipage. You are also to take care, that at his first entrance he says something, which may give us an ideal

success; and it is not doubted but the citadel will be in the hands of the allies before the last day of this month. Letters from Ipres say, that on the ninth instant part of the garrison of that place had mutinied in two bodies, each consisting of two hundred; who being dispersed the same day, a body of eight hundred appeared in the market-place at nine the night following, and seized all manner of provisions, but were with much difficulty quieted. The governor has not punished any of the offenders, the dissatisfaction being universal in that place; and it is thought the officers foment those disorders, that the ministry may be convinced of the necessity of paying those troops, and supplying them with provisions. These advices add, that on the fourteenth the marquis d'Este passed express through Brussels from the duke of Savoy, with advice that the army of his royal highness had forced the retrenchments of the

enemy in Savoy, and defeated that body of men which guarded those passes under the command of the marquis de Thouy.

No. 54.] Saturday, August 13, 1709.

Quicquid agunt homines

nosri est farrago libel i. Jiv. Sat. i. 85, 86. Whate'er men do, or say, or think, or dream, Our motley paper seizes for its theme.

P.

one, but that she is bis mistress. And he has himself often said, were he married to any one. else, he would rather keep Laura than any woman living; yet allows, at the same time, that Phillis, were she a woman of honour, would have been the most insipid animal breathing. The other day Laura, who has a voice like an angel, began to sing to him. Fie, madam,' he cried. we must be past all these gayties.' Phillis has a note as rude and as loud as that of a milk-maid: when she beWhite's Chocolate-house August, 12. gins to warble, 'Well,' says he, there is such a pleasing simplicity in all that wench does.' OF THE GOVERNMENT OF AFFECTION. In a word, the affectionate part of his heart WHEN labour was pronounced to be the por- being corrupted, and his true taste that way tion of man, that doom reached the affections wholly lost, he has contracted a prejudice to of his mind, as well as his person, the matter all the behaviour of Laura, and a general paron which he was to feed, and all the animal tiality in favour of Phillis. It is not in the and vegetable world about him. There is, power of the wife to do a pleasing thing, nor therefore, an assiduous care and cultivation to in the mistress to commit one that is disagreebe bestowed upon our passions and affections; able. There is something too melancholy in for they, as they are the excrecences of our the reflection on this circumstance, to be the souls like our hair and beards, look horrid or subject of raillery. He said a sour thing to becoming, as we cut or let them grow. All Laura at dinner the other day; upon which this grave preface is meant to assign a reason she burst into tears. What the devil, madam,' in nature for the unaccountable behaviour of says he, cannot I speak in my own house?' Duumvir, the husband and keeper. Ten thou-He answered Phillis a little abruptly at supper sand follies had this unhappy man escaped, the same evening, upon which she threw his had he made a compact with himself to be periwig into the fire. 'Well,' said he' thou art upon his guard, and not permitted his vagrant a brave termagant jade: do you know, hussy, eye to let in so many different inclinations that fair wig cost forty guineas?' Oh Laura! upon him, as all his days he has been perplexed is it for this that the faithful Cromius sighed. with. But.indeed, at present, he has brought for you in vain? How is thy condition altered, himself to be confined only to one prevailing since crowds of youth hung on thy eye, and mistress; between whom and his wife, Duum-watched its glances? It is not many months vir passes his hours in all the vicissitudes which attend passion and affection, without the intervention of reason. Laura his wife, and Phillis his mistress, are all with whom he has bad, for some months, the least amorous com-charms, chastised, yet added to diversions. At merce. Duumvir has passed the noon of life; but cannot withdraw from those entertainments which are pardonable only before that stage of our being, and which, after that season, are rather punishments than satisfactions: for palled appetite is humourous, and must be gratified with sauces rather than food. For which end Duumvir is provided with a haughty, imperious, expensive, and fantastic mistress, to whom he retires from the conversation of an affable, humble, discreet, and affectionate wife. Laura receives him after absence, with an easy and unaffected complacency; but that he calls insipid: Phillis rates him for his absence, and bids him return from whence he came; this he calls spirit and fire; Laura's gentleness is thought mean; Phillis's insolence, sprightly. Were you to see him at his own home, and his mistress's lodgings; to Phillis ne appears an obsequious lover, to Laura an imperious master. Nay, so unjust is the taste of Duumvir, that he owns Laura has no ill quality, but that she is his wife; Phillis no good

since Laura was the wonder and pride of her own sex, as well as the desire and passion of ours. At plays and at balls, the just turn of her behaviour, the decency of her virgin

public devotions, her winning modesty, her resigned carriage, made virtue and religion appear with new ornaments, and in the natural apparel of simplicity and beauty. In ordinary conversations, a sweet conformity of manners, and a humility which heightened all the complacencies of good-breeding and education, gave her more slaves than all the pride of her sex ever made women wish for. Laura's hours are now spent in the sad reflection on her choice, and that deceitful vanity, almost inseparable from the sex, of believing she could reclaim one that had so often ensnared others; as it now is, it is not even in the power of Duumvir himself to do her justice: for though beauty and merit are things real and independent on taste and opinion, yet agreeableness is arbitrary, and the mistress has much the advantage of the wife. But whenever fate is so kind to her and her spouse as to end her days, with all this passion for Phillis and indifference for Laura, he has a second wife in view, who may avenge the injuries done to her

I am, Sir,

'Your most humble servant,
'JEOFFRY CHANTICLEER.'

predecessor. Aglaura is the destined lady, j atonement for certain of your paragraphs which who has lived in assemblies, has ambition and have not been highly approved by us. play for her entertainment, and thinks of a man, not as the object of love, but the tool of ner interest or pride. If ever Aglaura comes 10 the empire of this inconstant, she will endear the memory of her predecessor. But, in the mean time, it is melancholy to consider, that the virtue of a wife is like the merit of a poet, never justly valued until after death.

From my own Apartment, August 11. As we have professed that all the actions of men are our subject, the most solemn are not to be omitted, if there happens to creep into their behaviour any thing improper for such occasions. Therefore, the offence mentioned in the following epistles, though it may seem to be committed in a place sacred from observation, is such, that it is our duty to remark upon it; for though he who does it is himself only guilty of an indecorum, he occasions a criminal levity in all others who are present at it.

MR. BICKERSTAFF,

St. Paul's Church-Yard,
August 11.

It is wonderful that there should be such a general lamentation, and the grievance so frequent, and yet the offender never know any thing of it. I have received the following letter from my kinsman at the Heralds-office, near the same place.

DEAR COUSIN,

'This office, which has had its share in the impartial justice of your censures, demands at present your vindication of their rights and privileges. There are certain hours when our young heralds are exercised in the faculties of making proclamation, and other vociferations, which of right belong to us only to utter: but, at the same hours, Stentor in St. Paul's Church, in spite of the coaches, carts, London cries, and all other sounds between us, exalts his throat to so high a key, that the most noisy of our order is utterly unheard. If you please to observe upon this, you will ever oblige, &c.'

There have been communicated to me some other ill consequences from the same cause; as, the overturning of coaches by sudden starts of the horses as they passed that way, women pregnant frightened, and heirs to families lost; which are public disasters, though arising from a good intention: but it is hoped, after this admonition, that Stentor will avoid an act of so great supererogation, as singing without a voice.

'It being mine as well as the opinion of many others, that your papers are extremely well fitted to reform any irregular or indecent practice, I present the following as one which requires your correction. Myself, and a great many good people who frequent the divine service at St. Paul's, have been a long time scandalized by the imprudent conduct of Stentor in that cathedral. This gentleman, you must know, is always very exact and zealous in his devotion, which I believe nobody blames; but then he is accustomed to roar and bellow so terribly loud in the responses, that he frightens even us of the congregation who are daily used to him; and one of our petty canons, a punning Cambridge scholar, calls his way of worship a Bull-offering. His harsh untuneable pipe is no more fit than a raven's to join with the music of a choir; yet, nobody having been enough his friend, I suppose, to inform him of it, he never fails, when present, to drown the harmony of every hymn and anthem, by an inundation of sound beyond that of the bridge at the ebb of the tide, or the neighbouring lions in the anguish of their hunger. This is a grievance, which, to my certain knowledge, several worthy people desire to see redressed; and if, by inserting this epistle in your paper, or by representing the matter your own way, you can convince Sten- No. 55.] Tuesday, August 16, 1709. tor, that discord in a choir is the same sin that schism is in the church in general, you would lay a great obligation upon us; and make some

Dr. William Stanley, dean of St. Paul's.

But I am diverted from prosecuting Stentor's reformation, by an account, that the two faithful lovers, Lisander and Coriana, are dead; for, no longer ago than the first day of the last month, they swore eternal fidelity to each other, and to love until death. Ever since that time, Lisander has been twice a day at the chocolate-house, visits in every circle, is missing four hours in four-and-twenty, and will give no account of himself. These are undoubted proofs of the departure of a lover; and consequently Coriana is also dead as a mistress. I have written to Stentor, to give this couple three calls at the church-door, which they must hear if they are living within the bills of mortality; and if they do not answer at that time, they are from that moment added to the number of my defunct.

Paulo majora canamus. Virg. Ecl. iv. 1.
Begin a loftier strain.

White's Chocolate-house, August 15. WHILE others are busied in relations which concern the interest of princes, the peace of

nations, and revolutions of empire; I think, I knew her voice, and could speak no more than though these are very great subjects, my theme of discourse is sometimes to be of matters of a ́yet higher consideration. The slow steps of providence and nature, and strange events which are brought about in an instant, are what, as they come within our view and observation, shall be given to the public. Such things are not accompanied with show and noise, and therefore seldom draw the eyes of the unattentive part of mankind; but are very proper at once to exercise our humanity, please our imaginations, and improve our judgments. It may not, therefore, be unuseful to relate many circumstances, which were observable upon a late cure done upon a young gentleman who was born blind, and on the twenty-ninth of June last received his sight, at the age of twenty years, by the operation of an oculist. This happened no farther off than Newington, and the work was prepared for in the following

manner.

Oh me! are you my mother?' and fainted. The whole room, you will easily conceive, were very affectionately employed in recovering him; but, above all, the young gentlewoman who loved him, and whom he loved, shrieked in the loudest manner. That voice seemed to have a sudden effect upon him as he recovered, and he showed a double curiosity in observing her as she spoke and called to him, until at last he broke out, What has been done to me? Whither am I carried? Is all this about me the thing I have heard so often of? Is this the light? Is this seeing? Were you always thus happy, when you said you were glad to see each other? Where is Tom, who used to lead me? But I could now, methinks, go any where without him.' He offered to move, but seemed afraid of every thing around him. When they saw his difficulty, they told him, until he became better acquainted with his new being, he must let the servant still lead him.' The boy was called for, and presented to him. Mr. Caswell asked him, what sort of thing he took Tom to be before he had seen him?'. He answered,' he believed there was not so much of him as of himself; but he fancied him the same sort of creature.' The noise of this sudden change made all the neighbourhood throng to the place where he was. As he saw the crowd thickening, he desired Mr. Caswell to tell him how many there were in all to be seen. The gentleman, smiling, answered him, that it would be very proper for him to return to his late condition, and suffer his eyes to be covered, until they had received strength : for he might remember well enough, that by degrees he had from little and little come to the strength he had at present in his ability of walking and moving; and that it was the same thing with his eyes, which,' he said, 'would lose the power of continuing to him that won

The operator, Mr. Grant, having observed the eyes of his patient, and convinced his friends and relations, among others the reverend Mr. Caswell, minister of the place, that it was highly probable that he should remove the obstacle which prevented the use of his sight; all his acquaintance, who had any regard for the young man, or curiosity to be present when one of full age and understanding received a new sense, assembled themselves on this occasion. Mr. Caswell, being a gentleman particularly curious, desired the whole company, in case the blindness should be cured, to keep silence; and let the patient make his own observations, without the direction of any thing he had received by his other senses, or the advantage of discovering his friends by their voices. Among several others, the mother, brethren, sisters, and a young gentlewoman, for whom he had a passion, were present. The work was performed with great skill and dex-derful transport he was now in, except he terity. When the patient first received the dawn of light, there appeared such an ectasy in his action, that he seemed ready to swoon away in the surprise of joy and wonder. The surgeon stood before him with his instruments in his hands. The young man observed him from head to foot; after which he surveyed himself as carefully, and seemed to compare him to himself; and, observing both their hands, seemed to think they were exactly alike, except the instruments, which he took for parts of his hands. When he had continued in this amazement some time, his mother could not longer bear the agitations of so many passions as thronged upon her; but fell upon his neck, eiving out, My son! my son! The youth

The name of the young man, who is the principal subject of this paper, was William Jones of Newington Butts, who, it is said, was born blind, and brought to his sight at the age of twenty.

would be contented to lay aside the use of them, until they were strong enough to bear the light without so much feeling as he knew he underwent at present.' With much relucrance he was prevailed upon to have his eyes bound; in which condition they kept him in a dark room, until it was proper to let the organ receive its objects without further precaution. During the time of this darkness, he bewailed himself in the most distressed manner; and accused all his friends, complaining that

some incantation had been wrought upon him, and some strange magic used to deceive him into ar opinion that he had enjoyed what they called sight.' He added,' that the impressions then let in upon his soul would certainly distract him, if he were not so at that present.' At another time, he would strive to name the persons he had seen among the crowd after he was couched, and would pretend to