moved by the presence of their proper object, ¦ day do something which we forget when it is or stimulated to act by corporal sensations. I am the less inclined to these superfluous inquiries, because I have always been able to find sufficient matter for curiosity in my own species. It is useless to go far in quest of that which may be found at hoine; a very narrow circle of observation will supply a sufficient number of men and women, who might be asked, with equal propriety, On what they can be thinking? It is reasonable to believe, that thought, like every thing else, has its causes and effects; that it must proceed from something known, done, or suffered; and must produce some action or event. Yet how great is the number of those in whose minds no source of thought has ever been opened, in whose life no thought of consequence is ever discovered; who have learned nothing upon which they can reflect; who have neither seen nor felt any thing which could leave its traces on the memory; who neither foresee nor desire any change of their condition, and have therefore neither fear hope, nor design, and yet are supposed to be thinking beings. To every act a subject is required. He that thinks must think upon something. But tell me, ye that pierce deepest into nature, ye that take the widest surveys of life, inform me, kind shades of Malbranche and of Locke, what that something can be, which excites and continues thought in maiden aunts with small fortunes; in younger brothers that live upon annuities; in traders retired from business; in soldiers absent from their regiments; or in widows that have no children? done, and know to have been done only by consequence. The waking hours are not denied to have been passed in thought; yet he that shall endeavour to recollect on one day the ideas of the former, will only turn the eye of reflection upon vacancy; he will find, that the greater part is irrevocably vanished, and wonder how the moments could come and go, and leave so little behind them. To discover only that the arguments on both sides are defective, and to throw back the tenet into its former uncertainty, is the sport of wanton or malevolent scepticism, delighting to see the sons of philosophy at work upon a task which never can be decided. I shall suggest an argument hitherto overlooked, which may perhaps determine the controversy. If it be impossible to think without materials, there must necessarily be minds that do not always think; and whence shall we furnish materials for the meditation of the glutton between his meals, of the sportsman in a rainy month, of the annuitant between the days of quarterly payment, of the politician when the mails are detained by contrary winds? But how frequent soever may be the examples of existence without thought, it is certainly a state not much to be desired. He that lives in torpid insensibility, wants nothing of a carcass but putrefaction. It is the part of every inhabitant of the earth to partake the pains and pleasures of his fellow-beings; and, as in a road through a country desert and uniform, the traveller languishes for want of amusement, so the passage of life will be tedious and irksome to him who does not beguile it by diversified ideas. TO THE IDLER. Life is commonly considered as either active or contemplative; but surely this division, how long soever it has been received, is inadequate and fallacious. There are mortals whose life No. 25.] SATURDAY, OCT. 7, 1758. is certainly not active for they do neither good nor evil; and whose life cannot be properly called contemplative, for they never attend either to the conduct of men, or the works of nature, but rise in the morning, look round them till night in careless stupidity, go to bed and sleep, and rise again in the morning. It has been lately a celebrated question in the schools of philosophy, Whether the soul always thinks? Some have defined the soul to be the power of thinking; concluded that its essence consists in act; that, if it should cease to act, it would cease to be; and that cessation of thought is but another name for extinction of mind. This argument is subtile, but not conclusive; because it supposes what cannot be proved, that the nature of mind is properly defined. Others affect to disdain subtilty, when subtilty will not serve their purpose, and appeal to daily experience. We spend many hours, they say, in sleep, without the least remembrance of any thoughts which then passed in our minds; and since we can only by our own consciousness be sure that we think, why thould we imagine that we have had thought of which no consciousness re mains? This argument, which appeals to experience, may from experience be confuted. We every SIR, I AM am a very constant frequenter of the playhouse, a place to which I suppose the Idler not much a stranger, since he can have no where else so much entertainment with so little concurrence of his own endeavour. At all other assemblies he that comes to receive delight, will be expected to give it; but in the theatre nothing is necessary to the amusement of two hours, but to sit down and be willing to be pleased. The last week has offered two new actors to the town. The appearance and retirement of actors are the great events of the theatrical world; and their first performance fills the pit with conjecture and prognostication, as the first actions of a new monarch agitate nations with hope or fear. What opinion I have formed of the future excellence of these candidates for dramatic glory, it is not necessary to declare. Their entrance gave me a higher and nobler pleasure than any borrowed character can afford. I saw the ranks of the theatre emulating each other in candour and humanity, and contending who should most effectually assist the struggles of 878 No. 23.] SATURDAY, SEPT. 23, 1758. LIFE has no pleasure higher or nobler than that of friendship. It is painful to consider, that this sublime enjoyment may be impaired or destroyed by innumerable causes, and that there is no human possession of which the duration is less certain. rate. There is scarce' THE IDLER too often those that themselves; e between the violent eradicaually drop away cious solicitations d will grow more rts of profit or ambiin the mind, if they But mistaken notions of useless show, pride ents, and all the train of aed away by the wing of not exhaust its power upon it watch diligently against on of vice, and leave foppery and to die of themselves. SATURDAY, OCT. 14, 1758. many competitors, and in I NEVER thought that I should write any thing to be printed; but having lately seen your firs essay, which was sent down into the kitchen, of the critic should be to distinguish with a great bundle of gazettes and uselss pa pers, I find that you are willing to admit any correspondent, and therefore hope you will not I am a poor girl. I was bred in the country consed may be restrained and modulated; encourage others, in the same condition with may be reclaimed; vociferation vehement reject me. If you publish my letter, it may the stalk of the tyrant may become the gait of myself, to tell their stories, which may be per the man; the yell of inarticulate distress may haps as useful as those of great ladies. terwards censured with gentleness and can- butions of wealthy neighbours. The ladies, or faults should be for a time overlooked, and af- at a charity-school, maintained by the contri be reduced to human lamentation. All these vacancy of meaning, a frigid equality, a stupid amined how we were taught, and saw that our dour. But if in an actor there appears an utter patronesses, visited us from time to time, exlanguor, a torbid apathy, the greatest kindness clothes were clean. We lived happily enough, that can be shown him, is a speedy sentence and were instructed to be thankful to those at I am, Sir &c. The plea which my correspondent has offered for young actors, I am very far from wishing to invalidate. I always considered those combinations which are sometimes formed in the playhouse, as acts of fraud or of cruelty; he that applauds him who does not deserve praise, is endeavouring to deceive the public: he that hisses in malice or sport, is an oppressor and a robber. But surely this laudable forbearance might be justly extended to young poets. The art of the writer, like that of the player, is attained by slow degrees. The power of distinguishing and discriminating comic characters, or of filling tragedy with poetical images, must be the gift of nature, which no instruction nor labour can supply; but the art of dramatic disposition, the contexture of the scenes, the opposition of characters, the involution of the plot, the expedients of suspension, and the stratagems of surprise are to be learned by practice; and it is cruel to discourage a poet for ever, because he has not from genius what only experience can bestow. Life is a stage. Let me likewise solicit candour for the young actor on the stage of life. whose cost we were educated. I was always the favourite of my mistress; she used to call me to read, and show my copy-book to all strangers, who never dismissed me without commendation, and very seldom without a shilling. At last the chief of our subscribers, having passed a winter in London, came down full of an opinion new and strange to the whole country. She held it little less than criminal to teach poor girls to read and write. They who are born to poverty, said she, are born to ignorance, and will work the harder the less they know. She told her friends, that London was in confusion by the insolence of servants; that scarcely a wench was to be got for allwork, since education had made such numbers of fine ladies, that nobody would now accept a lower title than that of a waiting-maid or something that might qualify her to wear laced shoes and long ruffles, and to sit at work in the parlour window. But she was resolved, for her part, to spoil no more girls; those, who were to live by their hands, should neither read nor write out of her pocket; the world was bad enough already, and she would have no part in making it worse. She was for a short time wamly opposed ered in her notions, and with- | THE IDLER oper object, day do something which we forget when it as bien passed in thought, vet belt nad Precolect on one day the 12 28 A for the eve w! Münt @ sequence. The waking hours ar zaidi ka done, and know to have been dores y age 4 that the gat .... 379 ich had as, by ed as any than Sure, ard work is not fit abbing brush would spoil first; when I was playing with one in my lap, I was forced to keep the rest in expectation. That which was not gratified always resented the injury with a loud outery, which put my mistress in a fury at me, and procured sugarplums to the child. I could not keep six children quiet, who were bribed to be clamorous; and was therefore dismissed, as a girl honest, but not good-natured. I then lived with a couple that kept a petty shop of remnants and cheap linen. I was qualified to make a bill or keep a book; and being therefore often called, at a busy time, to serve the customers, expected that I should now be But happy, in proportion as I was useful. my mistress appropriated every day part of the profit to some private use, and, as she grew bolder in her theft, at last deducted such sums, that my master began to wonder how he sold so much, and gained so little. She pretended to assist his inquiries, and began, very gravely, ot live at home; and while I was to hope that Betty was honest, and yet those sharp dering to what I should betake me, one of girls were apt to be light fingered. You will bethe girls, who had gone from our school to Lon-lieve that I did not stay there much longer. don, came down in a silk gown and told her The rest of my story I will tell you in anoacquaintance how well she lived, what fine ther letter; and only beg to be informed in some things she saw, and what great wages she re- paper, for which of my places, except perhaps ceived. I resolved to try my fortune, and took the last, I was disqualified by my skill in readmy passage in the next week's wagon to Lon-ing and writing. don. I had no snares laid for me at my arrival, but came safe to a sister of my mistress, who undertook to get me a place. She knew only the families of mean tradesmen; and I, having no high opinion of my own qualifications, was willing to accept the first offer. My first mistress was wife of a working I was then maid to a hatter's wife. There My next removal was to a linen-draper's, who had six children. My mistress, when I first entered the house, informed me, that I must never contradict the children, nor suffer them to cry. I had no desire to offend, and readily promised to do my best. But when I gave them their breakfast, I could not help all | I am, Sir, Your very humble servant, No. 27.] SATURDAY, OCT. 21, 1758. This counsel has been often given with serious dignity, and often received with appearance of conviction; but, as very few can search deep into their own minds without meeting what they wish to hide from themselves, scarcely any man persists in cultivating such disagreeable acquaintance, but draws the veil again between his eyes and his heart, leaves his passions and appetites as he found them, and advises others to look into themselves. This is the common result of inquiry even among those that endeavour to grow wiser or better; but this endeavour is far enough from frequency; the greater part of the multitudes that swarm upon the earth have never been disturbed by such uneasy curiosity, but deliver themselves up to business or to pleasure, plunge into the current of life, whether placid or turbulent, and pass on from one point of prospect to another, attentive rather to any thing than the state of their minds; satisfied, at an easy rate, with an opinion, that they are no worse than others, that every man must mind his own interest, or that their pleasures hurt only themselves, and are therefore no proper subjects of censure Some, however, there are, whom the intru endeavour, dissipate the blush of diffidence, | They that enter into the world are too often and still the flutter of timidity. This behaviour is such as becomes a people, too tender to repress those who wish to please, too generous to insult those who can make no resistance. A public performer is so much in the power of spectators, that all unnecessary severity is restrained by that general law of humanity which forbids us to be cruel, where there is nothing to be feared. In every new performer something must be pardoned. No man can by any force of resolution, secure to himself the full posession of his own powers under the eye of a large assembly. Variation of gesture, and flexion of voice, are to be obtained only by experience. There is nothing for which such numbers think themselves qualified as for theatrical exhibition. Every human being has an action graceful to his own eye, a voice musical to his own ear, and a sensibility which nature forbids him to know that any other bosom can excel. An art in which such numbers fancy themselves excellent, and which the public liberally rewards, will excite many competitors, and in many attempts there must be many miscarriages. treated with unreasonable rigour by those that were once as ignorant and heady as themselves; and distinction is not always made between the faults which require speedy and violent eradication, and those that will gradually drop away in the progression of life. Vicious solicitations of appetite, if not checked will grow more importunate; and mean arts of profit or ambition will gather strength in the mind, if they are not early suppressed. But mistaken notions of superiority, desires of useless show, pride of little accomplishments, and all the train of vanity, will be brushed away by the wing of Time. Reproof should not exhaust its power upon petty failings; let it watch diligently against the incursion of vice, and leave foppery and futility to die of themselves. No. 26.] SATURDAY, Oct. 14, 1758. MR. IDLER, I NEVER thought that I should write any thing to be printed; but having lately seen your firs essay, which was sent down into the kitchen, with a great bundle of gazettes and uselss pa pers, I find that you are willing to admit any correspondent, and therefore hope you will not reject me. If you publish my letter, it may encourage others, in the same condition with myself, to tell their stories, which may be per haps as useful as those of great ladies. The care of the critic should be to distinguish error from inability, faults of inexperience from defects of nature. Action irregular and turbulent may be reclaimed; vociferation vehement and confused may be restrained and modulated; the stalk of the tyrant may become the gait of the man; the yell of inarticulate distress may be reduced to human lamentation. All these I am a poor girl. I was bred in the country faults should be for a time overlooked, and af- at a charity-school, maintained by the contri terwards censured with gentleness and can-butions of wealthy neighbours. The ladies, or dour. But if in an actor there appears an utter vacancy of meaning, a frigid equality, a stupid languor, a torbid apathy, the greatest kindness that can be shown him, is a speedy sentence of expulsion. I am, Sir &c. The plea which my correspondent has offered for young actors, I am very far from wishing to invalidate. I always considered those combinations which are sometimes formed in the playhouse, as acts of fraud or of cruelty; he that applauds him who does not deserve praise, is endeavouring to deceive the public: he that hisses in malice or sport, is an oppressor and a robber. patronesses, visited us from time to time, examined how we were taught, and saw that our clothes were clean. We lived happily enough, and were instructed to be thankful to those at whose cost we were educated. I was always the favourite of my mistress; she used to call me to read, and show my copy-book to all strangers, who never dismissed me without commendation, and very seldom without a shilling. At last the chief of our subscribers, having passed a winter in London, came down full of an opinion new and strange to the whole country. She held it little less than criminal to teach poor girls to read and write. They who are born to poverty, said she, are born to ignorance, and will work the harder the less they know. But surely this laudable forbearance might be justly extended to young poets. The art of the writer, like that of the player, is attained by She told her friends, that London was in slow degrees. The power of distinguishing and confusion by the insolence of servants; that discriminating comic characters, or of filling scarcely a wench was to be got for allwork, since tragedy with poetical images, must be the gift education had made such numbers of fine laof nature, which no instruction nor labour candies, that nobody would now accept a lower title supply; but the art of dramatic disposition, the contexture of the scenes, the opposition of characters, the involution of the plot, the expedients of suspension, and the stratagems of surprise are to be learned by practice; and it is cruel to discourage a poet for ever, because he has not from genius what only experience can bestow. Life is a stage. Let me likewise solicit candour for the young actor on the stage of life. than that of a waiting-maid or something that might qualify her to wear laced shoes and long ruffles, and to sit at work in the parlour window. But she was resolved, for her part, to spoil no more girls; those, who were to live by their hands, should neither read nor write out of her pocket; the world was bad enough already, and she would have no part in making it worse. She was for a short time wamly opposed but she persevered in her notions, and with- | first; when I was playing with one in my lap, drew her subscription. Few listen without a desire of conviction to those who advise them to spare their money. Her example and her arguments gained ground daily; and in less than a year the whole parish was convinced, that the nation would be ruined, if the children of the poor were taught to read and write. Our school was now dissolved; my mistress kissed me when we parted, and told me, that, being old and helpless, she could not assist me, advised me to seek a service, and charged me not to forget what I had learned. My reputation for scholarship, which had hitherto recommended me to favour, was, by the adherents to the new opinion, considered as a crime; and, when I offered myself to any mistress, I had no other answer than Sure, child, you would not work! hard work is not fit for a pen-woman; a scrubbing brush would spoil your hand, child! I was forced to keep the rest in expectation. That which was not gratified always resented the injury with a loud outery, which put my mistress in a fury at me, and procured sugarplums to the child. I could not keep six children quiet, who were bribed to be clamorous; and was therefore dismissed, as a girl honest, but not good-natured. I then lived with a couple that kept a petty shop of remnants and cheap linen. I was qualified to make a bill or keep a book; and being therefore often called, at a busy time, to serve the customers, expected that I should now be happy, in proportion as I was useful. But my mistress appropriated every day part of the profit to some private use, and, as she grew bolder in her theft, at last deducted such sums, that my master began to wonder how he sold so much, and gained so little. She pretended to assist his inquiries, and began, very gravely, I could not live at home; and while I was to hope that Betty was honest, and yet those sharp considering to what I should betake me, one of girls were apt to be light fingered. You will bethe girls, who had gone from our school to Lon-lieve that I did not stay there much longer. don, came down in a silk gown and told her acquaintance how well she lived, what fine things she saw, and what great wages she received. I resolved to try my fortune, and took my passage in the next week's wagon to London. I had no snares laid for me at my arrival, but came safe to a sister of my mistress, who undertook to get me a place. She knew only the families of mean tradesmen; and I, having no high opinion of my own qualifications, was willing to accept the first offer. My first mistress was wife of a working watchmaker, who earned more than was sutlicient to keep his family in decency and plenty; but it was their constant practice to hire a cnaise on Sunday, and spent half the wages of the week on Richmond Hill; of Monday he commonly lay half in bed, and spent the other half in merriment; Tuesday and Wednesday consumed the rest of his money; and three days every week were passed in extremity of want by us who were left at home, while my master lived on trust at an ale-house. You may be sure, that of the sufferers, the maid suffered most; and I left them, after three months, rather than be starved. I was then maid to a hatter's wife. There was no want to be dreaded, for they lived in perpetual luxury. My mistress was a diligent woman, and rose early in the morning to set the journeymen to work; my master was a man much beloved by his neighbours, and sat at one club or other every night. I was obliged to wait on my master at night, and on my mistress in the morning. He seldom came home before two, and she rose at five. I could no more live without sleep than without food, and therefore entreated them to look out for another servant. My next removal was to a linen-draper's, who had six children. My mistress, when I first entered the house, informed me, that I must never contradict the children, nor suffer them to cry. I had no desire to offend, and readily promised to do my best. But when I gave them their breakfast, I could not help all The rest of my story I will tell you in ano- Your very humble servant, No. 27.] SATURDAY, OCT. 21, 1758. This counsel has been often given with serious dignity, and often received with appearance of conviction; but, as very few can search deep into their own minds without meeting what they wish to hide from themselves, scarcely any man persists in cultivating such disagreeable acquaintance, but draws the veil again between his eyes and his heart, leaves his passions and appetites as he found them, and advises others to look into themselves. This is the common result of inquiry even among those that endeavour to grow wiser or better; but this endeavour is far enough from frequency; the greater part of the multitudes that swarm upon the earth have never been disturbed by such uneasy curiosity, but deliver themselves up to business or to pleasure, plunge into the current of life, whether placid or turbulent, and pass on from one point of prospect to another, attentive rather to any thing than the state of their minds; satisfied, at an easy rate, with an opinion, that they are no worse than others, that every man must mind his own interest, or that their pleasures hurt only them selves, and are therefore no proper subjects of censure Some, however, there are, whom the intru |