worth fifteen pounds more than will be de- | ters go on to my satisfaction, I may perhaps manded for them by the undertakers. put off the meeting to a farther day; but of 2. Whosoever will be pleased to sub-this, public notice shall be given. scribe, and pay twenty-five pounds in the manner following, for a pair of these globes, either for their own use, or to present them to any college in the universities, or any public library or schools, shall have his coat of arms, name, title, seat, or place of residence, &c. inserted in some convenient place of the globe. In the mean time, I must confess that I am not a little gratified and obliged by that concern which appears in this great city upon my present design of laying down this paper. It is likewise with much satisfaction, that I find some of the most outlying parts of the kingdom alarmed upon this occasion, having received letters to expostulate with me about it from several of my readers of the remotest boroughs of Great Britain.-Among these I am very well pleased with a letter dated from Berwickupon-Tweed, wherein my correspondent compares the office, which I have for some time executed in these realms, to the weeding of a great garden; which,' says he, 'it is not sufficient to weed once for all, and 4. That a pair of these globes shall not afterwards to give over, but that the work hereafter be sold to any person but the sub-must be continued daily, or the same spots scribers under thirty pounds. 3. That every subscriber do at first pay down the sum of ten pounds, and fifteen pounds more upon the delivery of each pair of globes perfectly fitted up. And that the said globes be delivered within twelve months after the number of thirty subscribers be completed; and that the subscribers be served with globes in the order which they subscribed. 5. That, if there be not thirty subscribers within four months after the first of December, 1712, the money paid shall be returned on demand, by Mr. John Warner, goldsmith, near Temple-bar, who shall receive and pay the same according to the above-mentioned articles.' No. 553.] Thursday, December 4, 1712. Nec lusisse pudet, sed non incidere ludum. THE project which I published on Monday last has brought me in several packets of letters. Among the rest, I have received one from a certain projector, wherein, after having represented, that in all probability the solemnity of opening my mouth will draw together a great confluence of beholders, he proposes to me the hiring of Stationer's-hall for the more convenient exhibiting of that public ceremony. He undertakes to be at the charge of it himself, provided he may have the erecting of galleries on every side, and the letting of them out upon that occasion. I have a letter also from a bookseller, petitioning me in a very humble manner, that he may have the printing of the speech which I shall make to the assembly upon the first opening of my mouth. I am informed from all parts that there are great canvassings in the several clubs about town, upon the choosing of a proper person to sit with me on those arduous affairs to which I have summoned them. Three clubs have already proceeded to election, whereof one has made a double return. If I find that my enemies shall take advantage of my silence to begin hostilities upon me, or if any other exigency of affairs may so require, since I see elections in so great forwardness, we may possibly meet before the day appointed; or, if mat of ground which are cleared for a while will in a little time be overrun as much as ever.' Another gentleman lays before me several enormities that are already sprouting, and which he believes will discover themselves in their growth immediately after my disappearance. "There is no doubt,' says he,but the ladies' heads will shoot up as soon as they know they are no longer under the Spectator's eye; and I have already seen such monstrous broad-brimmed hats under the arms of foreigners, that I question not but they will overshadow the island within a month or two after the dropping of your paper.' But, among all the letters which are come to my hands, there is none so handsomely written as the following one, which I am the more pleased with as it is sent me from gentlemen who belong to a body which I shall always honour, and where (I cannot speak it without a secret pride) my speculations have met with a very kind reception. It is usual for poets, upon the publishing of their works, to print before them such copies of verses as have been made in their praise. Not that you must imagine they are pleased with their own commendation, but because the elegant compositions of their friends should not be lost. I must make the same apology for the publication of the ensuing letter, in which I have suppressed no part of those praises that are given my speculations with too lavish and good-natured a hand; though my correspondents can witness for me, that at other times I have generally blotted out those parts in the letters which I have received from them. 0. You never begin to talk but when people are desirous to hear you; and I defy any one to be out of humour until you leave off. But I am led unawares into reflections foreign to the original design of this epistle; which was to let you know, that some unfeigned admirers of your inimitable papers, who could without any flattery, greet you with the salutation used to the eastern monarchs, viz. "O Spec, live for ever," have lately been under the same have one manifest advantage over that re- apprehensions with Mr. Philo-Spec; that No. 554.] Friday, December 5, 1712. the haste you have made to despatch your best friends, portends no long duration to your own short visage. We could not, indeed, find any just grounds for complaint in the method you took to dissolve that venerable body: no, the world was not worthy of your Divine. Will Honeycomb could not, with any reputation, live single any longer. It was high time for the Templar to turn himself to Coke; and Sir Roger's dying was the wisest thing he ever did in his life. It was, however, matter of great grief to us, to think that we were in danger of losing so elegant and valuable an entertainment. And we could not, without sorrow, reflect that we were likely to have nothing to interrupt our sips in the morning, and to suspend our coffee in mid air, between our lips and right ear, but the ordinary trash of newspapers. We resolved, therefore, not to part with you SO. But since, to make use of your own allusion, the cherries began now to crowd the market, and their season was almost over, we consulted our future enjoyments, and endeavoured to make the exquisite pleasure that delicious fruit gave our taste as lasting as we could, and by drying them protract their stay beyond its natural date. We own that thus they have not a flavour equal to that of their juicy bloom; but yet, under this disadvantage, they pique the palate, and become a salver better than any other fruit at its first appearance. To speak plain, there are a number of us who have begun your works afresh, and meet two nights in the week in order to give you a re-hearing. We never come together without drinking your health, and as seldom part without general expressions of thanks to you for our night's improvement. This we conceive to be a more useful institution than any other club whatever, not excepting even that of Ugly Faces. We -Tentanda via est, qua me quoque possim Tollere humo, victorque virum volitare per ora. Virg. Georg. iii. 9. New ways I must attempt my grovelling name To raise aloft, and wing my flight to fame.-Dryden. I AM obliged for the following essay, as well as for that which lays down rules out of Tully for pronunciation and action, to the ingenious author of a poem just published, entitled, An Ode to the Creator of the World, occasioned by the Fragments of Orpheus. It It is a remark made, as I remember, by a celebrated French author, that no man ever pushed his capacity as far as it was able to extend. I shall not inquire whether this assertion be strictly true. may suffice to say, that men of the greatest application and acquirements can look back upon many vacant spaces, and neglected parts of time, which have slipped away from them unemployed; and there is hardly any one considering person in the world but is apt to fancy with himself, at some time or other, that if his life were to begin again he could fill it up better. The mind is most provoked to cast on itself this ingenuous reproach, when the examples of such men are presented to it as have far outshot the generality of their species in learning, arts, or any valuable improvements. One of the most extensive and improved geniuses we have had any instance of in our own nation, or in any other, was that of Sir Francis Bacon, lord Verulam. This great man, by an extraordinary force of nature, compass of thought, and indefatigable study, had amassed to himself such stores of knowledge as we cannot look upon without amazement. His capacity seemed to have grasped all that was revealed in books before his time; and, not satisfied with that, he began to strike out new tracts of science, | tion of body. The instances of his strength too many to be travelled over by any one man are almost incredible. He is described to in the compass of the longest life. These, have been a well-formed person, and a therefore, he could only mark down, like master of all genteel exercises. And lastly, imperfect coastings on maps, or supposed we are told that his moral qualities were points of land to be farther discovered and agreeable to his natural and intellectual ascertained by the industry of after ages, endowments, and that he was of an honest who should proceed upon his notices or and generous mind, adorned with great conjectures. sweetness of manners. I might break off The excellent Mr. Boyle was the per- the account of him here, but I imagine it son who seems to have been designed by will be an entertainment to the curiosity of nature to succeed to the labours and in-my readers, to find so remarkable a chaquiries of that extraordinary genius I have racter distinguished by as remarkable a just mentioned. By innumerable experi- circumstance at his death. The fame of ments, he in a great measure filled up those plans and outlines of science which his predecessor had sketched out. His life was spent in the pursuit of nature through a great variety of forms and changes, and in the most rational as well as devout adoration of its divine Author. 'It would be impossible to name many persons who have extended their capacities as far as these two, in the studies they pursued; but my learned readers on this occasion will naturally turn their thoughts to a third, who is yet living, and is likewise the glory of our own nation. The improvements which others had made in natural and mathematical knowledge have so vastly increased in his hands, as to afford at once a wonderful instance how great the capacity is of a human soul, and inexhaustible the subject of its inquiries; so true is that remark in holy writ, that "though a wise man seek to find out the works of God from the beginning to the end, yet shall he not be able to do it." his works having gained him an universal esteem, he was invited to the court of France, where, after some time, he fell sick; and Francis the First coming to see him, he raised himself in his bed to acknowledge the honour which was done him by that visit. The king embraced him, and Leonardo, fainting in the same moment, expired in the arms of that great monarch. "It is impossible to attend to such instances as these without being raised into a contemplation on the wonderful nature of a human mind, which is capable of such progressions in knowledge, and can contain such a variety of ideas without perplexity or confusion. How reasonable is it from hence to infer its divine original! And whilst we find unthinking matter endued with a natural power to last for ever, unless annihilated by Omnipotence, how absurd would it be to imagine that a being so much superior to it should not have the same privilege! 'At the same time it is very surprising, when we remove our thoughts from such instances as I have mentioned, to consider those we so frequently meet with in the accounts of barbarous nations among the Indians; where we find numbers of people who scarce show the first glimmerings of reason, and seem to have few ideas above those of sense and appetite. These, me thinks, appear like large wilds, or vast uncultivated tracts of human nature; and, when we compare them with men of the most exalted characters in arts and learning, we find it difficult to believe that they are creatures of the same species. 'I cannot help mentioning here one character more of a different kind indeed from these, yet such a one as may serve to show the wonderful force of nature and of application, and is the most singular instance of an universal genius I have ever met with. The person I mean is Leonardo da Vinci, an Italian painter, descended from a noble family in Tuscany, about the beginning of the sixteenth century. In his profession of history-painting he was so great a master, that some have affirmed he excelled all who went before him. It is certain that he raised the envy of Michael Angelo, who was his contemporary, and 'Some are of opinion that the souls of that from the study of his works Raphael men are all naturally equal, and that the himself learned his best manner of design- great disparity we so often observe, arises ing. He was a master too in sculpture and from the different organization or structure architecture, and skilful in anatomy, ma- of the bodies to which they are united. But, thematics, and mechanics. The aqueduct whatever constitutes this first disparity, the from the river Adda to Milan is mentioned next great difference which we find beas a work of his contrivance. He had tween men in their several acquirements learned several languages, and was ac- is owing to accidental differences in their quainted with the studies of history, philo- education, fortunes, or course of life. The sophy, poetry, and music. Though it is soul is a kind of rough diamond, which renot necessary to my present purpose, I quires art, labour, and time to polish it. cannot but take notice, that all who have For want of which many a good-natured writ of him mention likewise his perfec-genius is lost, or lies unfashioned, like a jewel in the mine. * Sir Isaac Newton. † He was born in 1445, and died in 1520. 'One of the strongest incitements to excel in such arts and accomplishments as are in assume a mock authority, without being looked upon as vain and conceited. The praises or censures of himself fall only upon the creature of his imagination; and, if any one finds fault with him, the author_may reply with the philosopher of old, Thou dost but beat the case of Anaxarchus.' When I speak in my own private sentiments, I cannot but address myself to my readers in a more submissive manner, and with a just gratitude for the kind reception which they have given to these daily papers, which have been published for almost the space of two years last past. the highest esteem among men, is the natu- | take my leave, I am under much greater ral passion which the mind of man has for anxiety than I have known for the work of glory; which though it may be faulty in the any day since I undertook this province. It excess of it, ought by no means to be dis-is much more difficult to converse with the couraged. Perhaps some moralists are too world in a real than a personated character. severe in beating down this principle, which That might pass for humour in the Spectaseems to be a spring implanted by nature tor, which would look like arrogance in a to give motion to all the latent powers of writer who sets his name to his work. The the soul, and is always observed to exert fictitious person might condemn those who itself with the greatest force in the most disapproved him, and extol his own pergenerous dispositions. The men whose cha-formances without giving offence. He might racters have shown the brightest among the ancient Romans, appear to have been strongly animated by this passion. Cicero, whose learning and services to his country are so well known, was inflamed by it to an extravagant degree, and warmly presses Lucceius, who was composing a history of those times, to be very particular and zealous in relating the story of his consulship; and to execute it speedily, that he might have the pleasure of enjoying in his lifetime some part of the honour which he foresaw would be paid to his memory. This was the ambition of a great mind; but he is faulty in the degree of it, and cannot I hope the apology I have made, as to refrain from soliciting the historian upon the license allowable to a feigned character, this occasion to neglect the strict laws of may excuse any thing which has been said history; and, in praising him, even to ex-in these discourses of the Spectator and his ceed the bounds of truth. The younger Pliny appears to have had the same passion for fame, but accompanied with greater chasteness and modesty. His ingenious manner of owning it to a friend, who had prompted him to undertake some great work, is exquisitely beautiful, and raises him to a certain grandeur above the imputation of vanity. "I must confess," says he, "that nothing employs my thoughts more than the desire I have of perpetuating my name; which in my opinion is a design | worthy of a man, at least of such a one, who, being conscious of no guilt, is not afraid to be remembered by posterity." 'I think I ought not to conclude without interesting all my readers in the subject of this discourse: I shall therefore lay it down as a maxim, that though all are not capable of shining in learning or the politer arts, yet every one is capable of excelling in something. The soul has in this respect a certain vegetative power which cannot lie wholly idle. If it is not laid out and cultivated into a regular and beautiful garden, it will of itself shoot up in weeds or flowers of a wilder growth.' works; but the imputation of the grossest vanity would still dwell upon me, if I did not give some account by what means I was enabled to keep up the spirit of so long and approved a performance. All the papers marked with a C, an L, an I, or an O, that is to say, all the papers which I have distinguished by any letter in the name of the muse Clio, were given me by the gentleman of whose assistance I formerly boasted in the preface and concluding leaf of my Tatlers. I am indeed much more proud of his long continued friendship, than I should be of the fame of being thought the author of any writings which he himself is capable of producing. I remember, when I finished The Tender Husband, I told him there was nothing I so ardently wished, as that we might some time or other publish a work, written by us both, which should bear the name of The Monument, in memory of our friendship. I heartily wish what I have done here was as honorary to that sacred name, as learning, wit, and humanity, render those pieces which I have taught the reader how to distinguish for his. When the play above-mentioned was last acted, there were so many applauded strokes in it which I had from the same hand, that I thought very meanly of myself that I have never publicly acknowledged them. After I have put other friends upon importuning him to publish dramatic as well as other writings he has by him, I shall end what I think I am obliged to say on this head, by giving my reader this hint for the better judging of my productions-that the best comment upon them would be an account when the patron to The Tender Husband was in England or abroad. 'Dec. 4, 1712. The reader will also find some papers The following letter regards an ingenious which are marked with the letter X, for set of gentlemen, who have done me the which he is obliged to the ingenious gentle-honour to make me one of their society. man who diverted the town with the epilogue to The Distressed Mother. I might have owned these several papers with the free consent of these gentlemen, who did not write them with a design of being known for the authors. But, as a candid and sincere behaviour ought to be preferred to all other considerations, I would not let my heart reproach me with a consciousness of having acquired a praise which is not my right. 'MR. SPECTATOR,-The academy of painting, lately established in London, having done you and themselves the honour to choose you one of their directors; that noble and lively art, which before was entitled to your regard as a Spectator, has an additional claim to you, and you seem to be under a double obligation to take some care of her interests. The other assistances which I have had have been conveyed by letter, sometimes by whole papers, and other times by short hints from unknown hands. I have not been able to trace favours of this kind with any certainty, but to the following names, which I place in the order wherein I received the obligation, though the first I am going to name can hardly be mentioned in a list wherein he would not deserve the precedence. The persons to whom I am to make these acknowledgments are, Mr. Henry Martyn, Mr. Pope, Mr. Hughes, Mr. Carey of New-college in Oxford, Mr. Tickell of Queen's in the same university, Mr. Parnelle, and Mr. Eusden, of Trinity in Cambridge. Thus, to speak in the language of my late friend, Sir Andrew Freeport, I have balanced my accounts with all my creditors for wit and learning. But as these excellent performances would not have seen the light without the means of this paper, I may still arrogate to myself the merit of And as one man may be a good landtheir being communicated to the public. scape painter, but unable to paint a face or I have nothing more to add, but, having a history tolerably well, and so of the rest; swelled this work to five hundred and fifty-one nation may excel in some kinds of five papers, they will be disposed into seven painting, and other kinds may thrive better volumes, four of which are already publish- in other climates. ed, and the three others in the press. It will not be demanded of me why I now leave off, though I must own myself obliged to give an account to the town of my time hereafter; since I retire when their partiality to me is so great, that an edition of the former volumes of Spectators, of above nine thousand each book, is already sold off, and the tax on each half-sheet has brought into the stamp-office, one week with another, above 201. a week, arising from the single paper, notwithstanding it at first reduced it to less than half the number that was usually printed before the tax was laid. "The honour of our country is also concerned in the matter I am going to lay before you. We (and perhaps other nations as well as we) have a national false humanity as well as a national vain glory; and, though we boast ourselves to excel all the world in things wherein we are outdone abroad, in other things we attribute to others a superiority which we ourselves possess. This is what is done, particularly in the art of portrait or face-painting. 'Painting is an art of a vast extent, too great by much for any mortal man to be in full possession of in all its parts; it is enough if any one succeed in painting faces, history, battles, landscapes, sea-pieces, fruit, flowers, or drolls, &c. Nay, no man ever was excellent in all the branches (though many in number,) of these several arts, for a distinct art I take upon me to call every one of those several kinds of painting. I humbly beseech the continuance of this RICHARD STEELE, 43 Italy may have the preference of all other nations for history painting; Holland for drolls and a neat finished manner of working; France for gay, jaunty, fluttering pictures; and England for portraits; but to give the honour of every one of these kinds of painting to any one of those nations on account of their excellence in any of these parts of it, is like adjudging the prize of heroic, dramatic, lyric, or burlesque poetry to him who has done well in any one of them. "Where there are the greatest geniuses, and most helps and encouragements, it is reasonable to suppose an art will arrive to the greatest perfection: by this rule let us consider our own country with respect to face-painting. No nation in the world delights so much in having their own, or friends or relations' pictures; whether from their national good-nature, or having a love to painting, and not being encouraged in the great article of religious pictures, which the purity of our worship refuses the free use of, or from whatever other cause. Our helps are not inferior to those of any other people, but rather they |