This my inquisitive temper, or rather impertinent humour of pr into all sorts of writing, with my natural aversion to loqua gives me a good deal of employment when I enter any house in country; for I cannot for my heart leave a room, before I thoroughly studied the walls of it, and examined the several pri papers which are usually pasted upon them. The last piece I met with upon this occasion gave me most exquisite pleas My reader will think I am not serious, when I acquaint him the piece I am going to speak of, was the old ballad of the children in the wood,* which is one of the darling songs of common people, and has been the delight of most Englishme some part of their age. This song is a plain simple copy of nature, destitute of the b and ornaments of art. The tale of it is a pretty tragical story, pleases for no other reason but because it is a copy of nat There is even a despicable simplicity in the verse; and ye: cause the sentiments appear genuine and unaffected, they are to move the mind of the most polite reader with inward melt of humanity and compassion. The incidents grow out of the ject, and are such as are the most proper to excite pity; for w reason the whole narration has something in it very moving, withstanding the author of it (whoever he was) has delivered such an abject phrase and poorness of expression, that the quo any part of it would look like a design of turning it into ridic But though the language is mean, the thoughts, as I have be said, from one end to the other, are natural, and therefore ca fail to please those who are not judges of language, or u who, notwithstanding they are judges of language, have a and unprejudiced taste of nature. The condition, speech, and haviour of the dying parents, with the age, innocence, and dist of the children, are set forth in such tender circumstances, th is impossible for a reader of common humanity not to be affe with them. As for the circumstance of the robin-red-breast. indeed a little poetical ornament; and to show the genius of author amidst all his simplicity, it is just the same kind of fic which one of the greatest of the Latin poets has made use of u a parallel occasion; I mean that passage in Horace, where he scribes himself when he was a child, fallen asleep in a desert w and covered with leaves by the turtles that took pity on him. "Me fabulosæ vulture in Apulo, Ludo fatigatumque somno Percy's Reliques of Ancient Poetry, vol. iii. This simple tale has b pleasingly dramatized lately by Thomas Morton, Esq., author of "The for the Heart Ache;" "Speed the Plough," &c. &c. 64 SIR, "From the Three Chairs in the Piazza, Covent-Garden. As you are a Spectator, I think we who make it our business to exhibit any thing to public view, ought to apply ourselves to you for your approbation. I have travelled Europe to furnish out a show for you, and have brought with me what has been admired in every country through which I passed. You have declared in many papers, that your greatest delights are those of the eye, which I do not doubt but I shall gratify with as beautiful objects as yours ever beheld. If castles, forests, ruins, fine women, and graceful men, can please you, I dare promise you much satisfaction, if you will appear at my auction on Friday next. A sight is, I suppose, as grateful to a Spectator, as a treat to another person, and therefore I hope you will pardon this invitation from, "Sir, "Your most obedient humble servant, "J. GRAHAM." X. BUDGELL. The following Advertisement, which was subjoined to the original paper, it has been thought not improper to preserve :— Mr. Pinkethman's Pantheon, or the Temple of Heathen Gods, the work of several years, consisting of five pictures, the contrivance and painting of which is beyond expression admirable. The figures above one hundred, move their heads, legs, arms, and fingers, so exactly in what they perform, setting one foot,before another like living creatures, that it deserves to be steemed the greatest wonder of the age. In the Little Piazza, CoventJarden. Price 1s. 6d., 1s., and the lowest 6d. See No. 31. No. 68. FRIDAY, MAY 18, 1711. Nos duo turba sumus We two are a multitude. OVID. MET. i. 355. ONE would think that the larger the company is in which we are engaged, the greater variety of thoughts and subjects would be started in discourse; but, instead of this, we find that conversation is never so much straitened and confined as in numerous assemblies. When a multitude meet together on any subject of discourse, their debates are taken up chiefly with forms and ge manner, every one is in some degree a master of that art which generally distinguished by the name of physiognomy; and nat rally forms to himself the character or fortune of a stranger, fro the features and lineaments of his face. We are no sooner pi sented to any one we never saw before, but we are immediate struck with the idea of a proud, a reserved, an affable, or a goo natured man; and upon our first going into a company strangers, our benevolence or aversion, awe or contempt, ris naturally towards several particular persons, before we have hea them speak a single word, or so much as know who they are. Every passion gives a particular cast to the countenance, and apt to discover itself in some feature or other. I have seen an e curse for half an hour together, and an eye-brow call a man scoundrel. Nothing is more common than for lovers to complai resent, languish, despair, and die in dumb show. For my ov part, I am so apt to frame a notion of every man's humour or e cumstances by his looks, that I have sometimes employed mys from Charing Cross to the Royal Exchange in drawing the e racters of those who have passed by me. When I see a man wi a sour rivelled face, I cannot forbear pitying his wife; and wh I meet with an open ingenuous countenance, think on the hap ness of his friends, his family, and relations. I cannot recollect the author of a famous saying to a strang who stood silent in his company, "Speak that I may see thee But, with submission, I think we may be better known by looks than by our words, and that a man's speech is much mo easily disguised than his countenance. In this case, however think the air of the whole face is much more expressive than lines of it. The truth of it is, the air is generally nothing else the inward disposition of the mind made visible. Those who have established physiognomy into an art, and la down rules of judging men's tempers by their faces, have regard the features much more than the air. Martial has a pretty epigra on this subject: "Crine ruber, niger ore, brevis pede, lumine læsus: "Thy beard and head are of a different dye, EPIG. 12, 54. With all these tokens of a knave complete, I have seen a very ingenious author on this subject, who foun * Socrates. "Loquere ut te videam." ↑ John Baptista Porta, a Neapolitan, who died in the year 1515, leaving What can be more strong and pointed than the following verse?*Separate thyself from thine enemies, and take heed of thy friends." In the next words he particularises one of those fruits of friendship, which is described at length by the two famous authors above-mentioned, and falls into a general eulogium of friendship, which is very just as well as very sublime. "A faithful friend is a strong defence; and he that hath found such an one, hath found a treasure. Nothing doth countervail a faithful friend, and his excellency is invaluable. A faithful friend is the medicine of life; and they that fear the Lord shall find him. Whoso feareth the Lord shall direct his friendship aright; for as he is, so shall his neighbour (that is, his friend) be also." I do not remember to have met with any saying that has pleased me more than that of a friend's being the medicine of life, to express the efficacy of friendship, in healing the pains and anguish which naturally cleave to our existence in this world; and am wonderfully pleased with the turn in the last sentence, that a virtuous man shall as a blessing meet with a friend who is as virtuous as him self. There is another saying in the same author, which would have been very much admired in an heathen writer-" Forsake Tot an old friend, for the new is not comparable to him: a new friend is as new wine; when it is old thou shalt drink it with pleasure." With what strength of allusion, and force of thought Las he described the breaches and violations of friendship? Whoso casteth a stone at the birds frayeth them away; and he that upbraideth his friend, breaketh friendship. Though thou drawest a sword at a friend, yet despair not, for there may be a returning to favour. If thou hast opened thy mouth against thy friend fear not, for there may be a reconciliation; except, for upbraiding, or pride, or disclosing of secrets, or a treacherous wound; for, for these things every friend will depart."+ We may observe in this and several other precepts in this author, those little familiar instances and illustrations which are so much admired in the moral writings of Horace and Epictetus. There are very beautiful instances of this nature in the following passages, which are likewise written upon the same subject:-"Whoso discovereth secrets, loseth his credit, and shall never find a friend to his mind. Love thy friend, and be faithful unto him; but if thou betrayest is secrets, follow no more after him: for as a man hath destroyed his enemy, so hast thou lost the love of thy friend; as one that letteth a bird go out of his hand, so hast thou let thy friend go, and shalt not get him again; follow after him no more, for he is too far off; he is as a roe escaped out of the snare. As for a * Ecclus. ix. 10. Ibid. ix. 20, 21, 22. mist pronounced him the most lewd, libidinous, drunken old fell that he had ever met with in his whole life. Upon which the ciples all burst out a laughing, as thinking they had detected falsehood and vanity of his art. But Socrates told them, that principles of his art might be very true, notwithstanding his p sent mistake; for that he himself was naturally inclined to th particular vices which the physiognomist had discovered in countenance; but that he had conquered the strong dispositio he was born with, by the dictates of philosophy.* We are indeed told by an ancient author,f that Socrates v much resembled Silenus in his face; which we find to have b very rightly observed from the statues and busts of both, that. still extant; as well as on several antique seals and preci stones, which are frequently enough to be met with in the cabin of the curious. But however observations of this nature n sometimes hold, a wise man should be particularly cautious h he gives credit to a man's outward appearance. It is an irrep able injustice we are guilty of towards one another, when we prejudiced by the looks and features of those whom we do know. How often do we conceive hatred against a person worth, or fancy a man to be proud or ill-natured by his aspe whom we think we cannot esteem too much when we are quainted with his real character? Dr. Moore, in his admira System of Ethics, reckons this particular inclination to take a p judice against a man for his looks, among the smaller vices in rality, and, if I remember, gives it the name of a prosopolepsia. It has been the purpose of several of my speculations to bri people to an unconcerned behaviour, with relation to their person whether beautiful or defective. As the secrets of the Ugly Clu A Greek word, translated in our New Testament (Rom. ii. 11, ar Eph. vi. 9), "A Respecter of Persons." § See No. 17, &c. |