the throne, and his flight through the choirs of graces that poetry is capable of bestowing. angels, is finely imagined. As Milton every The author afterwards gives us a particular where fills his poem with circumstances that description of Eve in her domestic employare marvellous and astonishing, he describes ments: the gate of heaven as framed after such a manner that it opened of itself upon the approach of the angel who was to pass through it. Till at the gate Of heav'n arriv'd, the gate self-open'd wide, So saying, with dispatchful looks in haste Though in this, and other parts of the same The poet here seems to have regarded two book, the subject is only the housewifery of or three passages in the 18th Iliad, as that in our first parent, it is set off with so many particular where, speaking of Vulcan, Homer pleasing images and strong expressions, as says that he had made twenty tripods running make it none of the least agreeable parts in on golden wheels; which, upon occasion, might this divine work. go of themselves to the assembly of the gods, The natural majesty of Adam, and, at the and, when there was no more use for them, same time, his submissive behaviour to the return again after the same manner. Scali- superior being who had vouchsafed to be his ger has rallied Homer very severely upon this point, as M. Dacier has endeavoured to de- guest; the solemn hail' which the angel bestows upon the mother of mankind, with the fend it. I will not pretend to determine, whe- figure of Eve ministering at the table; are ther, in this particular of Homer, the marvel- circumstances which deserve to be admired. lous does not lose sight of the probable. As Raphael's behaviour is every way suitable the miraculous workmanship of Milton's gates to the dignity of his nature, and to that chais not so extraordinary as this of the tripods, racter of a sociable spirit with which the auso I am persuaded he would not have mention- thor has so judiciously introduced him. He ed it, had he not been supported in it by a had received instructions to converse with passage in the Scripture which speaks of Adam, as one friend converses with another, wheels in heaven that had life in them, and and to warn him of the enemy, who was conmoved of themselves, or stood still, in con- triving his destruction: accordingly, he is reformity with the cherubims, whom they ac- presented as sitting down at table with Adam, companied. There is no question but Milton had this circumstance in his thoughts; because in the following book he describes the chariot of the Messiah with living wheels, according to the plan in Ezekiel's vision: -Forth rushed with whirlwind sound I question not but Bossu, and the two Daciers, who are for vindicating every thing that is censured in Homer, by something parallel in holy writ, would have been very well pleased had they thought of confronting. Vulcan's tripods with Ezekiel's wheels. and eating of the fruits of Paradise. The occasion naturally leads him to his discourse on the food of angels. After having thus entered into conversation with man upon more indifferent subjects, he warns him of his obedience, and makes a natural transition to the history of that angel who was employed in the circumvention of our first parents. Had I followed Monsieur Bossu's method in my first paper on Milton, I should have dated the action of Paradise Lost from the beginning of Raphael's speech in this book, as he supposes the action of the Eneid to begin in the second book of that poem. I could allege many reasons for my drawing the action of the Æneid rather from its immediate beginning in Raphael's descent to the earth, with the the first book, than from its remote beginning in the second; and show why I have considerfigure of his person, is represented in very lively colours. Several of the French, Italian, ed the sacking of Troy as an episode, accordand English poets, have given a loose to their ing to the common acceptation of that word. But as this would be a dry unentertaining imaginations in the description of angels: but I do not remember to have met with any piece of criticism, and perhaps unnecessary so finely drawn, and so conformable to the to those who have read my first paper, I shall not enlarge upon it. Whichsoever of the nonotions which are given of them in Scripture, as this in Milton. After having set him forth tions be true, the unity of Milton's action is in all his heavenly plumage, und represented preserved according to either of them; whehim as alighted upon the earth, the poet concludes his description with a circumstance which is altogether new, and imagined with the greatest strength of fancy. Like Maia's son he stood, And shook his plumes, that heavenly fragrance fill'd Raphael's reception of the guardian angels, his passing through the wilderness of sweets, fis distant appearance to Adam, have all the ther we consider the fall of man in its immediate beginning, as proceeding from the resolutions taken in the infernal council, or in its more remote beginning, as proceeding from the first revolt of the angels in heaven. The occasion which Milton assigns for this revolt, as it is founded on hints in holy writ, and on the opinion of some great writers, so it was the most proper that the poet could have made use of. The revolt in heaven is described with great cumstances. She force of imagination, and a fine variety of cir-complishments we generally understand by The learned reader cannot but good breeding and polite education. be pleased with the poet's imitation of Homer sings, dances, plays on the lute and harpsiin the last of the following lines: At length into the limits of the north chord, paints prettily, is a perfect mistress of the French tongue, and has made a considerable progress in Italian. She is besides excellently skilled in all domestic sciences, as preserving, pickling, pastry, making wines of fruits of our own growth, embroidering, and needleworks of every kind. Hitherto, you will be apt to think there is very little cause of complaint; but suspend your opinion till I Homer mentions persons and things, which, have further explained myself, and then, I he tells us, in the language of the gods are make no question, you will come over to mine. called by different names from those they go You are not to imagine I find fault that she by in the language of men. Milton has imi- either possess or takes delight in the exercises tated him with his usual judgment in this par- of those qualifications I just now mentioned; ticular place, wherein he has likewise the au- it is the immoderate fondness she has to them thority of scripture to justify him. The part that I lament, and that what is only designed of Abdiel, who was the only spirit that in this for the innocent amusement and recreation of infinite host of angels preserved his allegiance life is become the whole business and study of to his Maker, exhibits to us a noble moral of hers. The six months we are in town (for religious singularity. The zeal of the seraphim the year is equally divided between that and breaks forth in a becoming warmth of senti- the country), from almost break of day till ments and expressions, as the character which noon, the whole morning is laid out in pracis given us of him denotes that generous scorn tising with her several masters; and to make and intrepidity which attends heroic virtue. up the losses occasioned by her absence in The author doubtless designed it as a pattern summer, every day in the week their attendto those who live among mankind in their present state of degeneracy and corruption: So spake the seraph Abdiel, faithful found To swerve from truth, or change his constant mind, No. 328.] Monday, March 17, 1711-12. Nullum me à labore reclinat otium. Hor. Epod. xvii. 24. Dunscombe. ance is required; and, as they are all people eminent in their professions, their skill and time must be recompensed accordingly. So how far these articles extend, I leave you to judge. Limning, one would think, is no expensive diversion; but, as she manages the matter, it is a very considerable addition to her disbursements; which you will easily believe, when you know she paints fans for all her acquaintance, and draws all her relations' pictures in miniature: the first must be mounted by nobody but Colmar, and the other set by nobody but Charles Mather.* What follows is still much worse than the former; for as I told you she is a great artist at her needle, it is incredible what sums she expends in embroidery; for, besides what is appropriated to her personal use, as mantuas, petticoats, stomachers, handkerchiefs, purses, pin-cushions, and working aprons, she keeps four French protestants continually employed in making divers pieces of superfluous furniture, as quilts, 'As I believe that this is the first complaint toilets, hangings for closets, beds, windowthat ever was made to you of this nature, so curtains, easy chairs, and tabourets : nor have you are the first person I ever could prevail I any hopes of ever reclaiming her from this upon myself to lay it before. When I tell you extravagance, while she obstinately persists in I have a healthy, vigorous constitution, a plen- thinking it a notable piece of good housetiful estate, no inordinate desires, and am mar-wifery, because they are made at home, and ried to a virtuous lovely woman, who neither she has had some share in the performance. wants wit nor good-nature, and by whom I There would be no end of relating to you have a numerous offspring to perpetuate my the particulars of the annual charge, in furfamily, you will naturally conclude me a hap-nishing her store-room with a profusion of py man. But, notwithstanding these promising pickles and preserves; for she is not conappearances, I am so far from it, that the pros- tented with having every thing, unless it pecet of being ruined and undone by a sort of be done every way, in which she consults an extravagance, which of late years is in a less hereditary book of receipts: for her female andegree crept into every fashionable family, de- cestors have been always famed for good houseprives me of all the comforts of my life, and wifery, one of whom is made immortal, by renders me the most anxious, miserable man giving her name to an eye-water, and two on earth. My wife, who was the only child sorts of puddings. I cannot undertake to reand darling care of an indulgent mother, em MR. SPECTATOR, ployed her early years in learning all those ac * A well known toyman in Fleet-street at the time. 6 SIR, March 13, 1711-12. cite all her medicinal preparations, as salves, THAT useful part of learning which consists sere-cloths, powders, confects, cordials, ratafia, in emendations, knowledge of different readpersico, orange-flower, and cherry-brandy, to-ings, and the like, is what in all ages persons gether with innumerable sorts of simple waters. extremely wise and learned have had in great But there is nothing I lay so much to my heart veneration. For this reason I cannot but reas that detestable catalogue of counterfeit joice at the following epistle, which lets us inwines, which derive their names from the to the true author of the letter to Mrs. Marfruits, herbs, or trees, of whose juices they are garet Clark, part of which I did myself the chiefly compounded. They are loathsome to honour to publish in a former paper. I must the taste, and pernicious to the health; and confess I do not naturally effect critical learnas they seldom survive the year, and then are ing; but finding myself not so much regarded thrown away, under a false pretence of fruga- as I am apt to flatter myself I may deserve from lity, I may affirm they stand me in more than some professed patrons of learning, I could not if I entertained all our visitors with the best but do myself the justice to show I am not a burgundy and champaign. Coffee, chocolate, stranger to such erudition as they smile upon, and green imperial, peco, and bohea teas, if I were duly encouraged. However, this is seem to be trifles; but when the proper appur- only to let the world see what I could do; and tenances of the tea-table are added, they swell shall not give my reader any more of this the account higher than one would imagine. kind, if he will forgive the ostentatiou I show I cannot conclude without doing her justice in at present. one article; where her frugality is so remarkable, I must not deny her the merit of it, and that is in relation to her children, who are all UPON reading your paper of yesterday, I confined, both boys and girls, to one large room took the pains to look out a copy I had forin the remotest part of the house, with bolts merly taken, and remembered to be very like on the doors and bars to the windows, under the care and tuition of an old woman, who had your last letter: comparing them, I found they were the very same; and have, underbeen dry nurse to her grandmother. This is written, sent you that part of it which you say their residence all the year round; and as they was torn off. I hope you will insert it, that are never allowed to appear, she prudently posterity may know it was Gabriel Bullock that thinks it needless to be at any expense in ap-made love in that natural style of which you parel or learning. Her eldest daughter to this seem to be fond, But, to let you see I have day would have neither read nor wrote, if it other manuscripts in the same way, I have had not been for the butler, who, being the son sent you enclosed three copies, faithfully takof a country attorney, has taught her such a en by my own hand from the originals, which hand as is generally used for engrossing bills were wrote by a Yorkshire gentleman of a in Chancery. By this time I have sufficiently good estate to madam Mary, and an uncle of tired your patience with my domestic grievan-hers, a knight very well known by the most ances; which I hope you will agree could not cient gentry in that and several other counwell be contained in a narrower compass, when ties of Great Britain. I have exactly followed you consider what a paradox I undertook to the form and spelling. I have been credibly maintain in the beginning of my epistle, and informed that Mr. William Bullock, the fawhich manifestly appears to be but too melanmous comedian, is the descendant of this Gacholy a truth. And now I heartily wish the briel, who begot Mr. William Bullock's great relation I have given of my misfortunes may grandfather, on the body of the above-menbe of use and benefit to the public. By the extioned Mrs. Margaret Clark. As neither ample I have set before them, the truly virSpeed, nor Baker, nor Selden, take notice of tuous wives may learn to avoid those errors it, I will not pretend to be positive; but dewhich have so unhappily misled mine, and sire that the letter may be reprinted, and what which are visibly these three: First, in mis- is here recovered may be in Italics. taking the proper objects of her esteem, and fixing her affections upon such things as are only the trappings and decorations of her sex : Secondly, in not distinguishing what becomes the different stages of life. And, lastly, the abuse and corruption of some excellent qualities, which, if circumscribed within just LOVELY, and oh that I could write loving, bour.ds, would have been the blessing and pros- Mrs. Margaret Clark, I pray you let affection perity of her family; but by a vicious ex-excuse presumption. Having been so happy treme, are like to be the bane and destruction of it.' T.* 'I am, Sir, 'Your daily Reader.' To her I very much respect, Mrs. Margaret as to enjoy the sight of your sweet countenance and comely body sometimes when I had occasion to buy treacle or liquorish powder at the apothecary's shop, I am so enamoured with you, that I can no more keep close my flaming desire to become your servant. And I am the more bold now to write to your sweet self, because I am now my own man, and may match where I please; for my father is taken away; and now I am come to my living, which is ten yard land, and a house; and there is never a yard land in our field but is as well worth ten they will put you in the nunnery; and heed pounds a year as a thief's worth a halter; and not Mrs. Lucy what she saith to you, for she all my brothers nnd sisters are provided for: will ly and ceat you. go from to another place, besides I have good household stuff, though I and we will gate wed so with speed. mind what say it, both brass and pewter, linens and wool-i write to you, for if they gate you to london lens; and though my house be thatched, yet they will keep you there; and so let us gate if you and I match, it shall go hard but I will wed, and we will both go. so if you go to lonhave one half of it slated. If you shall think don, you rueing yourself. so heed not what well of this motion, I will wait upon you as none of them saith to you let us gate wed, and soon as my new clothes are made, and hay- we shall lie to gader any time. i will do any harvest is in. I could, though I say it, have thing for you to my poore. i hope the devil good matches in our town; but my mother will faile them all, for a hellish company there (God's peace be with her) charged me upon her be. from there cursed trick and mischiefus death bed to marry a gentlewoman, one who ways good lord bless and deliver both you had been well trained up in the sowing and and me. cookery. I do not think but that if you and I can agree to marry, and lay your means together, I shall be made grand jury-man ere two or three years come about, and that will be a great credit to us. If I could have got a messenger for sixpence, I would have sent one on purpose, and some trifle or other for a token of my love but I hope there is nothing lost for i that neither. So, hoping you will take this letter in good part, and answer it with what care and speed you can, I rest and remain, 'Yours, if my own, 'Mr. GABRIEL BULLOCK, 'Swepston, Leicestershire. 'When the coal-carts come, I shall send oftener; and may come in one of them myself.t For sir William to go to london at westminster remember a parlement. SIR, i 'I think to be at York the 24 day.' i am deare This is for madam mary norton to go to london for a lady that belongs to dishforth. Madam Mary, i hope you are well. soary that you went away from York. loving sweet lady, i writt to let you know that do remain faithfull; and if can let me know where I can meet you, i will wed you, and i will do any thing to my poor; for you are a good woman, and will be a loving misteris. i am in troubel for you, so if you will come to york i will wed you. so with speed come, and i will have none but you. so, sweet love, heed not what to say to me, and with speed come; heed not what none of them say to you; your Maid makes you believe ought. So deare love think of Mr. george Nillson with speed; i sent 2 or 3 letters before. 'I gave misteris elcock some nots, and thay put me in pruson all the night for me pains, and non new whear i was, and i did gat cold. 'WILLIAM, i hope that you are well. But it is for mrs. Lucy to go a good way from write to let you kuow that i am in troubel home, for in york and round about she is about a lady your nease; and i do desire that known; to writ any more her deeds, the same you will be my friend: for when i did com to will tell her soul is black within, hor corkis see her at your hall, i was mighty Abuesed. stinks of hell. March 19th, 1706*.' i would fain a see you at topecliff, and thay Ire tamen restat, Numó qua devenit et Ancus. would not let me go to you; but I desire that No. 329.] Tuesday, March 18, 1711-12. 'George Nelson. My friend Sir Roger de Coverley told me t'other night, that he had been reading my paper upon Westminster-abbey, in which, says * In the original folio edition of the Spectator, the fol- 'I give my to me lady, and dently relating to this paper, which, as already observed, This is for madam mary norton disforth Lady she went to York. the letter R. in the other, Nescio quid meditans nugarum et totus in illis. I am your most humble servant, According to the emendation of the above correspondent, the reader is desired, in the paper of the 17th, to read R for T. he, there are a great many ingenious fancies. As we went up the body of the church, the He told me at the same time, that he observed knight pointed at the trophies upon one of I had promised another paper upon the tombs, the new monuments, and cry'd out, A brave and that he should be glad to go and see them man, I warrant him! Passing afterwards by with me, not having visited them since he had Sir Cloudsley Shovel, he flung his hand that read history. I could not imagine how this way, and cried Sir Cloudsley Shovel! a very came into the knight's head, till I recollected gallant man.' As we stood before Busby's that he had been very busy all last summer up-tomb, the knight uttered himself again after on Baker's Chronicle, which he has quoted se- the asme manner: 'Dr. Bushby! a great man: veral times in his disputes with Sir Andrew he whipped my grandfather; a very great Freeport since his last coming to town. Ac-man! I should have gone to him myself, if I cordingly I promised to call upon him the had not been a blockhead a very great man!' next morning, that we might go together to We were immediately conducted into the the abbey. little chapel on the right hand. Sir Roger, I found the knight under his butler's hands, planting himself at our historian's elbow, was who always shaves him. He was no sooner very attentive to every thing he said, particudressed, than he called for a glass of the widow larly to the account he gave us of the lord Truby's water, which he told me he always who had cut off the king of Morocco's head. drank before he went abroad. He recom-Among several other figures, he was very well mended to me a dram of it at the same time, pleased to see the statesman Cecil upon his with so much heartiness, that I could not for- knees; and concluding them all to be great bear drinking it. As soon as I had got it down, men, was conducted to the figure which reI found it very unpalatable; upon which the presents that martyr to good housewifery who knight, observing that I had made several wry died by the prick of a needle. Upon our infaces, told me that he knew I should not like it terpreter's telling us that she was a maid of at first, but that it was the best thing in the honour to queen Elizabeth, the knight was world against the stone or gravel. very inquisitive into her name and family; I could have wished indeed that he had ac- and, after having regarded her finger for quainted me with the virtues of it sooner; but some time, I wonder,' says he, that Sir it was too late to complain, and I knew what Richard Baker has said nothing of her in his he had done was out of good will. Sir Roger Chronicle.' told me further, that he looked upon it to be We were then conveyed to the two coronavery good for a man whilst he staid in town, tion chairs, where my old friend, after having to keep off infection, and that he got together heard that the stone underneath the most ana quantity of it upon the first news of the sick-cient of them, which was brought from Scotness being at Dantzick: when of a sudden land, was called Jacob's pillar, sat himself turning short to one of his servants, who stood down in the chair, and, looking like the figure behind him, he bid him call a hacknew-coach, of an old Gothic king, asked our interpreter, and take care it was an elderly man that drove what authority they had to say that Jacob had ever been in Scotland? The fellow instead of He then resumed his discourse upon Mrs. returning him an answer, told him, that he Truby's water, telling me that the widow Tru- hoped his honour would pay his forfeit. I by was one who did more good than all the could observe Sir Roger a little ruffled upon doctors and apothecaries in the country; that being thus trepanned; but our guide not inshe distilled every poppy that grew within five sisting upon his demand, the knight soon remiles of her; that she distributed her water covered his good humour, and whispered in gratis among all sorts of people: to which the my ear, that if Will Wimble were with us, knight added that she had a very great join- and saw those two chairs, it would go hard ture, and that the whole country would fain but he would get a tobacco stopper out of one have it a match between him and her; and or t'other of them. truly,' says Sir Roger, 'If I had not been en- Sir Roger, in the next place, laid his hand gaged, perhaps I could not have done better.' upon Edward the Third's sword, and, leaning His discourse was broken off by his man's upon the pommel of it, gave us the whole histelling him he had called a coach. Upon our tory of the Black Prince; concluding, that, going to it, after having cast his eye upon the in Sir Richard Baker's opinion, Edward the wheels, he asked the coachman if his axle-tree the Third was one of the greatest princes was good: upon the fellow's telling him he that ever sat upon the English throne. would warrant it, the knight turned to me, told We were then shown Edward the Confesme he looked like an honest man, and went in sor's tomb; upon which Sir Roger acquaintwithout further ceremony. ed us, that he was the first who touched for it. We had not gone far, when Sir Roger pop- the evil and afterwards Henry the Fourth's; ping out his head, called the coachman down upon which he shook his head, and told us from his box, and, upon presenting himself at there was fine reading in the casualties of that the window, asked him if he smoked. As I reign. was considering what this would end in, he Our conductor then pointed to that monubid him stop by the way at any good tobacco-ment where there is the figure of one of nist's, and take in a roll of their best Vir- our English kings without a head; and upon ginia. Nothing material happened in the re- giving us to know, that the head, which was of maining part of our journey, till we were set beaten silver, had been stolen away several down at the west end of the abbey. years since; Some whig, I'll warrant you,' |