"ANDREW FREEPORT.'

The club of which I am a member being entirely dispersed, I shall consult my reader next week upon a project relating to the institution of a new one.

0.

No. 550.] Monday, December 1, 1712
Quid dignum tanto feret hic promissor hiatu?

I could not but approve so good a resolu- | finding out a convenient place where I may tion, notwithstanding the loss I shall suffer build an almshouse, which I intend to enby it. Sir Andrew has since explained dow very handsomely for a dozen superhimself to me more at large in the follow- annuated husbandmen. It will be a great ing letter, which is just come to my hands. pleasure to me to say my prayers twice a day with men of my own years, who all of 'GOOD MR. SPECTATOR,-Notwithstand them, as well as myself, may have their ing my friends at the club have always thoughts taken up how they shall die, rallied me, when I have talked of retiring rather than how they shall live. I remem from business, and repeated to me one ber an excellent saying that I learned at of my own sayings, that "a merchant has school, Finis coronat opus. You know best never enough until he has got a little whether it be in Virgil or in Horace, it is more;" I can now inform you, that there my business to apply it. If your affairs will is one in the world who thinks he has permit you to take the country air with me enough, and is determined to pass the re- sometimes, you will find an apartment fitmainder of his life in the enjoyment of what ted up for you, and shall be every day enhe has. You know me so well, that I need tertained with beef or mutton of my own not tell you I mean, by the enjoyment of feeding; fish out of my own ponds; and my possessions, the making of them useful fruit out of my own gardens. You shall to the public. As the greatest part of my have free egress and regress about my estate has been hitherto of an unsteady and house, without having any questions asked volatile nature, either tost upon seas or you; and in a word, such a hearty welcome fluctuating in funds, it is now fixed and set- as you may expect from your most sincere tled in substantial acres and tenements. I friend and humble servant, have removed it from the uncertainty of stocks, winds, and waves, and disposed of it in a considerable purchase. This will give me great opportunity of being charitable in my way, that is, in setting my poor neighbours to work, and giving them a comfortable subsistence out of their own industry. My gardens, my fish-ponds, my arable and pasture grounds, shall be my several hospitals, or rather work-houses, in which I propose to maintain a great many indigent persons, who are now starving in my neighbourhood. I have got a fine spread of improvable lands, and in my own thoughts am already plowing up some of them, fencing others; planting woods, and draining marshes. In fine, as I have my share in the surface of this island, I am resolved to make it as beautiful a spot as any in her majesty's dominions; at least there is not an inch of it which shall not be cultivated to the best advantage, and do its utmost for its owner. As in my mercantile employment I so disposed of my affairs, that, from whatever corner of the compass the wind blew, it was bringing home one or other of my ships; I hope as a husbandman to contrive it so, that not a shower of rain or a glimpse of sunshine shall fall upon my estate without bettering some part of it, and contributing to the products of the season. You know it has been hitherto my opinion of life, that it is thrown away when it is not some way useful to others. But when I am riding out by myself, in the fresh air, on the open heath that lies by my house, I find several other thoughts growing up in me. I am now of opinion, that a man of my age may find business enough on himself, by setting his mind in order, preparing it for another world, and reconciling it to the thoughts of death. I must therefore acquaint you, that besides those usual methods of charity, of which I have before spoken, I am at this very instant

Hor. Ars Poet. ver. 138. In what will all this ostentation end?—Roscommo. SINCE the late dissolution of the club, whereof I have often declared myself a member, there are very many persons who by letters, petitions, and recommendations, put up for the next election. At the same time I must complain, that several indirect and underhand practices have been made use of upon this occasion. A certain country gentleman began to tap upon the first information he received of Sir Roger's death; when he sent me up word that, if I would get him chosen in the place of the deceased, he would present me with a barrel of the best October I had ever tasted in my life. The ladies are in great pain to know whom I intend to elect in the room of Will Honeycomb. Some of them indeed are of opinion that Mr. Honeycomb did not take sufficient care of their interest in the club, and are therefore desirous of having in it hereafter a representative of their own sex. A citizen who subscribes himself Y. Z. tells me that he has one-and-twenty shares in the African company, and offers to bribe me with the odd one in case he may succeed Sir Andrew Freeport, which he thinks would raise the credit of that fund. I have several letters, dated from Jenny Man's, by gentlemen who are candidates for captain Sentry's place; and as many from à coffee-house in St. Paul's

church-yard of such who would fill up the vacancy occasioned by the death of my worthy friend the clergyman, whom I can never mention but with a particular respect.

Having maturely weighed these several particulars, with the many remonstrances that have been made to me on this subject, and considering how invidious an office I shall take upon me if I make the whole election depend upon my single voice, and being unwilling to expose myself to those clamours, which on such an occasion will not

of late found my name in foreign gazettes
upon less occasions, I question not but in
their next articles from Great Britain they
will inform the world, that the Spectator's
mouth is to be opened on the twenty-fifth
of March next.' I may perhaps publish
a very useful paper at that time of the
proceedings in that solemnity, and of the
persons who shall assist at it. But of this
more hereafter.
0.

fail to be raised against me for partiality, No. 551.] Tuesday, December 2, 1712. injustice, corruption, and other qualities, which my nature abhors, I have formed to myself the project of a club as follows.

I have thoughts of issuing out writs to all and every of the clubs that are established in the cities of London and Westminster, requiring them to choose out of their respective bodies a person of the greatest merit, and to return his name to me before Lady-day, at which time I intend to sit upon business.

By this means I may have reason to hope, that the club over which I shall preside will be the very flower and quintessence of all other clubs. I have communicated this my project to none but a particular friend of mine, whom I have celebrated twice or thrice for his happiness in that kind of wit which is commonly known by the name of a pun. The only objection he makes to it is, that I shall raise up enemies to myself if I act with so regal an air, and that my detractors, instead of giving me the usual title of Spectator, will be apt to call me the King of Clubs.

But to proceed on my intended project: it is very well known that I at first set forth in this work with the character of a silent man; and I think I have so well preserved my taciturnity, that I do not remember to have violated it with three sentences in the space of almost two years. As a monosyllable is my delight, I have made very few excursions, in conversations which I have related, beyond a Yes or a No. By this means my readers have lost many good things which I have had in my heart, though I did not care for uttering them.

Now in order to diversify my character, and to show the world how well I can talk if I have a mind, I have thoughts of being very loquacious in the club which I have now under consideration. But that I may proceed the more regularly in this affair, I design, upon the first meeting of the said club, to have my mouth opened in form; intending to regulate myself in this particular by a certain ritual which I have by me, that contains all the ceremonies which are practised at the opening of the mouth of a cardinal. I have likewise examined the forms which were used of old by Pythagoras, when any of his scholars, after an apprenticeship of silence, was made free of his speech. In the mean time, as I have VOL. II.

42

Sic honor et nomen divinis vatibus atque,
Carminibus venit.-

Hor. Ars Poet. ver. 400.

So ancient is the pedigree of verse, And so divine a poet's function.-Roscommon. 'MR. SPECTATOR,—When men of worthy and excelling geniuses have obliged the world with beautiful and instructive writings, it is in the nature of gratitude that praise should be returned them, as one proper consequent reward of their performances. Nor has mankind ever been so degenerately sunk, but they have made this return, and even when they have not been wrought up by the generous endeavours so as to receive the advantages designed by it. This praise, which arises first in the mouth of particular persons, spreads and lasts according to the merit of authors; and, when it thus meets with a full success, changes its denomination, and is called fame. They, who have happily arrived at this, are, even while they live, inflamed by the acknowledgments of others, and spurred on to new undertakings for the benefit of mankind, notwithstanding the detraction which some abject tempers would cast upon them: but when they decease, their characters being free from the shadow which envy laid them under, begin to shine with the greater splendour; their spirits survive in their works; they are admitted into the highest companies, and they continue pleasing and instructing posterity from age to age. Some of the best gain a character, by being able to show that they are no strangers to them; and others obtain a new warmth to labour for the happiness and ease of mankind, from a reflection upon those honours which are paid to their memories.

The thought of this took me up as I turned over those epigrams which are the remains of several of the wits of Greece, and perceived many dedicated to the fame of those who had excelled in beautiful poetic performances. Wherefore, in pursuance to my thought, I concluded to do something along with them to bring their praises into a new light and language, for the encouragement of those whose modest tempers may be deterred by the fear of envy or detraction from fair attempts, to which their parts might render them equal. You will perceive them as they follow to be conceived in the form of epi

taphs, a sort of writing which is wholly set | particular character. It would be better if, apart for a short-pointed method of praise.

ON ORPHEUS, WRITTEN BY ANTIPATER.
"No longer, Orpheus, shall thy sacred strains
Lead stones, and trees, and beasts along the plains;
No longer sooth the boisterous winds to sleep,
Or still the billows of the raging deep;
For thou art gone. The Muses mourn thy fall
In solemn strains, thy mother most of all.
Ye mortals, idly for your sons ye moan,
If thus a goddess could not save her own."

'Observe here, that if we take the fable for granted, as if it was believed to be in that age when the epigram was written, the turn appears to have piety to the gods, and a resigning spirit in its application. But if we consider the point with respect to our present knowledge, it will be less esteemed; though the author himself, because he believed it, may still be more valued than any one who should now write with a point of the same nature.

ON HOMER, BY ALPHEUS OF MYTILENE.
"Still in our ears Andromache complains,
And still in sight the fate of Troy remains;
Still Ajax fights, still Hector's dragg'd along:
Such strange enchantment dwells in Homer's song;
Whose birth could more than one poor realm adorn,
For all the world is proud that he was born."

The thought in the first part of this is natural, and depending upon the force of poesy; in the latter part it looks as if it would aim at the history of seven towns contending for the honour of Homer's birthplace; but when you expect to meet with that common story, the poet slides by, and raises the whole world for a kind of arbiter, which is to end the contention amongst its several parts.

ON ANACREON, BY ANTIPATER.
"This tomb be thine, Anacreon! All around
Let ivy wreathe, let flow'rets deck the ground;
And from its earth, enrich'd with such a prize,
Let wells of milk and streams of wine arise:
So will thine ashes yet a pleasure know,
If any pleasure reach the shades below."

The poet here written upon is an easy gay author, and he who writes upon him has filled his own head with the character of his subject. He seems to love his theme so much, that he thinks of nothing but pleasing him as if he were still alive, by entering into his libertine spirit; so that the humour is easy and gay, resembling Anacreon in its air, raised by such images, and pointed with such a turn as he might have used. I give it a place here, because the author may have designed it for his honour; and I take an opportunity from it to advise others, that when they would praise they cautiously avoid every looser qualification, and fix only where there is a real foundation in merit.

ON EURIPIDES, BY ION. "Divine Euripides, this tomb we see So fair, is not a monument for thee, So much as thou for it; since all will own Thy name and lasting praise adorn the stone." "The thought here is fine, but its fault is, that it is general, that it may belong to any great man, because it points out no

when we light upon such a turn, we join it
with something that circumscribes and
bounds it to the qualities of our subject
He who gives his praise in gross, will often
appear either to have been a stranger to
those he writes upon, or not to have found
any thing in them which is praise-worthy.

ON SOPHOCLES, BY SIMONIDES.
"Winde, gentle ever-green, to form a shade
Around the tomb where Sophocles is laid:
Sweet ivy winde thy boughs, and intertwine
With blushing roses and the clust`ring vine:
Thus will thy lasting leaves, with beauties hung,
Prove grateful emblems of the lays he sung;
Whose soul, exalted like a god of wit,
Among the Muses and the Graces writ."

This epigram I have opened more than any of the former: the thought towards the latter end seemed closer couched, so as to require an explanation. I fancied the poet aimed at the picture which is generally made of Apollo and the Muses, he sitting with his harp in the middle, and they around him. This looked beautiful to my thought, and because the image arose before me out of the words of the original as I was reading it, I ventured to explain them so.

ON MENANDER, THE AUTHOR UNNAMED.
"The very bees, O sweet Menander hung
To taste the Muses' spring upon thy tongue;
The very Graces made the scenes you writ
Their happy point of fine expression hit.
Thus still you live, you make your Athens shine,
And raise its glory to the skies in thine."

racter of its subject; for Menander writ re-
This epigram has a respect to the cha-
markably with a justness and purity of lan-
guage. It has also told the country he was
born in, without either a set or a hidden
manner, while it twists together the glory
of the poet and his nation, so as to make the
nation depend upon his for an increase of
its own.

'I will offer no more instances at present to show that they who deserve praise have it returned them from different ages: let these which have been laid down show men that envy will not always prevail. And to the end that writers may more successfully enliven the endeavours of one another, let them consider, in some such manner as I have attempted, what may be the justest spirit and art of praise. It is indeed very hard to come up to it. Our praise is trifling when it depends upon fable; it is false when it depends upon wrong qualifications; it means nothing when it is general; it is extremely difficult to hit when we propose to raise characters high, while we keep to them justly. I shall end this with transcribing that excellent epitaph of Mr. Cowley, wherein, with a kind of grave and philosophic humour, he very beautifully speaks of himself (withdrawn from the world, and dead to all the interests of it,) as of a man really deceased. At the same time it is an instruction how to leave the public with a good grace.

EPITAPHIUM VIVI AUTHORIS.

Hic, O viator, sub lare parvulo
Couleius hic est conditus, hic jacet
Defunctus humani laboris
Sorte, supervacuaque vita;
Non indecora pauperie nitens,
Et non inerti nobilis otio,
Vanoque dilectis popello
Divitiis animosus hostis.
Possis ut illum dicere mortuum,
En terra jam nunc quantula sufficit!
Exempta sit curis, viator,

Terra sit illa levis, precare.
Hie sparge flores, sparge breves rosas,
Nam vita gaudet mortua floribus,
Herbisque odoratis corona

Vatis adhuc cinerem calentem."

THE LIVING AUTHOR'S EPITAPH,
* From life's superfluous cares enlarg'd,
His debt of human toil discharg'd
Here Cowley lies, beneath this shed,
To ev'ry worldly interest dead:
With descent poverty content:
His hours of ease not idly spent;
To fortune's goods a foe profess'd,
And hating wealth, by all caress'd.
'Tis sure, he's dead: for lo! how small
A spot of earth is now his all!

O! wish that earth may lightly lay,
And ev'ry care be far away!

Bring flow'rs, the short-liv'd roses bring,
To life deceas'd fit offering!
And sweets around the poet strow,
Whilst yet with life his ashes glow."

The publication of these criticisms having procured me the following letter from a very ingenious gentleman, I cannot forbear inserting it in the volume, though it did not come soon enough to have a place in any of my single papers.

'MR. SPECTATOR,-Having read over in your paper, No. 551, some of the epigrams made by the Grecian wits, in commendation of their celebrated poets, I could not forbear sending you another, out of the same collection; which I take to be as great a compliment to Homer as any that has yet been paid him,

Τις πολύ στον Τροίης πολεμον, &c.
"Who first transcrib'd the famous Trojan war,
And wise Ulysses' acts, O Jove, make known:
For since, 'tis certain thine these poems are,
No more let Homer boast they are his own."

'If you think it worthy of a place in your
speculations, for aught I know, (by that
means) it may in time be printed as often
in English as it has already been in Greek.
I am, (like the rest of the world,) sir, your
great admirer,
G. R.
'4th Dec.'

'DEAR MR. SPECTATOR,-I am a gentleman of a pretty good fortune, and of a temper impatient of any thing which I think an injury. However, I always quarrelled according to law, and instead of attacking my adversary by the dangerous method of sword and pistol, I made my assaults by that more secure one of writ or warrant. I cannot help telling you, that either by the justice of my causes, or the superiority of my counsel, I have been generally successful: and to my great satisfaction I can say it, that by three actions of slander, and half a dozen trespasses, I have for several years enjoyed a perfect tranquillity in my reputation and estate: by these means also I have been made known to the judges; the serjeants of our circuit are my intimate friends; and the ornamental counsel pay a very profound respect to one who has made so great a figure in the law. Affairs of consequence having brought me to town, I had the curiosity the other day to visit Westminsterhall; and having placed myself in one of the courts, expected to be most agreeably entertained. After the court and counsel were with due ceremony seated, up stands a learned gentleman, and began, When this matter was last "stirred" before your lordship; the next humbly moved to "quash" an indictment; another complained that his adversary had "snapped" a judgment; the next informed the court that his client was "stripped," of his possessions; another begbeen "saddled" with costs. At last up got ged leave to acquaint his lordship they had been "hung up" a whole term by a writ of a grave serjeant, and told us his client had error. At this I could bear it no longer, but came hither, and resolved to apply myself to your honour to interpose with these gentlemen, that they would leave off such low and unnatural expressions: for surely though the lawyers subscribe to hideous French and false Latin, yet they should let their clients have a little decent man that has a value for a good name would and proper English for their money. What like to have it said in a public court, that Mr. Such-a-one was stripped, saddled, or hung up? This being what has escaped your spectatorial observation, be pleased to correct such an illiberal cant among professed speakers, and you will infinitely oblige your humble servant, 'Joe's Coffee-house, Nov. 28.'

·

PHILONICUS

The reader may observe, that the beauty of this epigram is different from that of the foregoing. An irony is looked upon as the finest palliative of praise; and very often conveys the noblest panegyric under the appearance of satire. Homer is here seem- No. 552.] Wednesday, December 3, 1712. ingly accused and treated as a plagiary; but what is drawn up in the form of an accusation is certainly, as my correspondent observes, the greatest compliment that could have been paid to that divine poet.

* The translation of Cowley's epitaph, and all that follows except the concluding letter, signed Philonicus, was not printed in the Spectator in folio, but added in the 8vo. edition of 1712,

-Qui prægravat artes
Infra se positas, extinctus amabitur idem.
Hor. Ep. i. Lib. 2. 13.
For those are hated that excel the rest,
Although, when dead, they are belov'd and blest.
Creech.

As I was tumbling about the town the other day in a hackney-coach, and delight