I shall, in the next place, discourse upon those single capital let ters, which are placed at the end of it, and which have afforded great matter of speculation to the curious. I have heard various conjectures upon this subject. Some tell us that C is the mark of those papers that are written by the clergyman, though others ascribe them to the club in general: that the papers marked with R were written by my friend Sir Roger: that L signifies the lawyer, whom I have described in my second speculation; and that T stands for the trader or merchant. But the letter X, which is placed at the end of some few of my papers, is that which has puzzled the whole town, as they cannot think of any name which begins with that letter, except Xenophou and Xerxes, who can neither of them be supposed to have had any hand in these speculations. In answer to these inquisitive gentlemen, who have many of them made inquiries of me by letter, I must tell them the reply of an ancient philosopher, who carried something hidden under his cloak. A certain acquaintance desiring him to let him know what it was he covered so carefully; " I cover it," says he, " on purpose that you should not know." I have made use of these obscure marks for the same purpose. They are, perhaps, little amulets or charms to preserve the Paper against the fascination and malice of evil eyes; for which reason I would not have my reader surprised, if hereafter he sees any of my papers marked with a Q, a Z, a Y, an &c., or with the word Abracadabra.* I shall, however, so far explain myself to the reader, as to let him know that the letters C, L, and X, are cabalistical, and carry more in them than it is proper for the world to be acquainted with. Those who are versed in the philosophy of Pythagoras, and swear by the Tetrachtys, that is the number four, will know very well that the number ten, which is signified by the letter X (and which has so much perplexed the town), has in it many particular powers; that it is called by Platonic writers the complete number; that one, two, three, and four put together make up the number ten; and that ten is all. But these are not mysteries for ordinary readers to be let into. A man must have spent many years in hard study before he can arrive at the knowledge of them. We had a rabbinical divine in England, who was chaplain to the Earl of Essex in Queen Elizabeth's time, that had an admirable head for secrets of this nature. Upon his taking the doctor of divinity's degree, he preached before the University of Cambridge, upon the first verse of the first chapter of the first book of An Hebrew word, superstitiously esteemed a charm for agues. A particular account of this word will be found in the " Encyclopædia Britannica." Chronicles," in which," says he, "you have the three following words: He divided this short text into many parts, and by discovering several mysteries in each word, made a most learned and elaborate discourse. The name of this profound preacher was Dr. Alabaster, of whom the reader may find a more particular account in Dr. Fuller's book of "English Worthies." This instance will, I hope, convince my readers that there may be a great deal of fine writing in the capital letters which bring up the rear of my Paper, and give them some satisfaction in that particular. But as for the full explication of these matters, I must refer them to time, which discovers all things. * "MR. SPECTATOR, "THERE is one thing I have often looked for in your papers, and have as often wondered to find myself disappointed; the rather, In Steele's dedication of "The Drummer," to Mr. Congreve, we find the following passage:-" The editor [of Addison's Works, in 4to., Mr. Thomas Tickell] will not let me or anybody else obey Mr. Addison's commands in hiding anything he desires should be concealed. The circumstance of marking his SPECTATORS (which I did not know till I had done with the work) I made my own act; because I thought it too great a sensibility in my friend, and thought it, since it was done, better to suppose it marked by me than the author himself, the real state of which this zealot rashly and injudiciously exposes. I ask the reader, whether anything but an earnestness to disparage me, could provoke the editor in behalf of Mr. Addison to say, that he marked it out of caution against me, when I had taken upon me to say it was I that did it out of tenderness to him." It may be hence conjectured, that Steele put the as a mark to distinguish Addison's papers in the Guardian. because I think it a subject every way agreeable to your design, and by being left unattempted by others, it seems reserved as a proper employment for you; I mean a disquisition, from whence it proceeds that men of the brightest parts, and most comprehensive genius, completely furnished with talents for any province in human affairs;-such as by their wise lessons of economy to others have made it evident that they have justest notions of life, and of true sense in the conduct of it;-from what unhappy contradictious cause it proceeds, that persons thus finished by nature and art should so often fail in the management of that which they so well understand, and want the address to make a right application of their own rules. This is certainly a prodigious inconsistency in behaviour, and makes much such a figure in morals, as a monstrous birth in naturals; with this difference only, which greatly aggravates the wonder, that it happens much more frequently; and what a blemish does it cast upon wit and learning in the general account of the world? And in how disadvantageous a light does it expose them to the busy class of mankind, that there should be so many instances of persons who have so conducted their lives in spite of these transcendant advantages, as neither to be happy in themselves, nor useful to their friends; when everybody sees it was entirely in their own power to be eminent in both these characters? For my part, I think there is no reflection more astonishing, than to consider one of these gentlemen spending a fair fortune, running in everybody's debt without the least apprehension of a future reckoning, and at last leaving not only his own children, but possibly those of other people, by this means, in starving circumstances; while a fellow, whom one would scarce suspect to have a human soul, shall perhaps raise a vast estate out of nothing, and be the founder of a family capable of being very considerable in their country, and doing many illustrious services to it. That this observation is just, experience has put beyond all dispute. But though the fact be so evident and glaring, yet the causes of it are still in the dark; which makes me persuade myself, that it would be no unacceptable piece of entertainment to the town, to inquire into the hidden sources of so unaccountable an evil. "I am. Sir, "Your most humble servant." What this correspondent wonders at, has been matter of admiration ever since there was any such thing as human life. Horace reflects upon this inconsistency very agreeably in the character of Tigellius, whom he makes a mighty pretender to economy, and * Hor. Sat. iii. lib. i. tells you, you might one day hear him speak the most philosopl things imaginable concerning being contented with little, and contempt of everything but mere necessaries; and in half a w after spend a thousand pounds. When he says this of him relation to expense, he describes him as unequal to himself every other circumstance of life. And, indeed, if we consi lavish men carefully, we shall find it always proceeds from s tain incapacity of possessing themselves, and finding enjoym in their own minds. Mr. Dryden has expressed this very lently in the character of Zimri.* "A man so various, that he seemed to be This loose state of the soul hurries the extravagant from pursuit to another; and the reason that his expenses are great than another's is, that his wants are also more numerous. what makes so many go on in this way to their lives' end, is, they certainly do not know how contemptible they are in the of the rest of mankind, or rather, that indeed they are not so temptible as they deserve. Tully says, it is the greatest wick ness to lessen your paternal estate. And if a man would thoroug consider how much worse than banishment it must be to his chi to ride by the estate which should have been his had it not been his father's injustice to him, he would be smitten with the ref tion more deeply than can be understood by any one but one is a father. Sure there can be nothing more afflicting, than think it had been happier for his son to have been born of other man living than himself. It is perhaps not much thought of, but it is certainly a very portant lesson, to learn how to enjoy ordinary life, and to be shi to relish your being without the transport of some passion, or tification of some appetite. For want of this cpacity the world filled with whetters, tipplers, cutters, sippers, and all the numerat train of those who, for want of thinking, are forced to be ever * Intended to characterise the Duke of Buckingham. ercising their feeling or tasting. It would be hard on this occasion to mention the harmless smokers of tobacco, and takers of snuff. The slower part of mankind, whom my correspondent wonders should get estates, are the more immediately formed for that pursuit. They can expect distant things without impatience, because they are not carried out of their way either by violent passions, or keen appetite to anything. To men addicted to delights, business is an interruption; to such as are cold to delights, business is an entertainment. For which reason it was said to one who com mended a dull man for his application, "No thanks to him; if he had no business, he would have nothing to do." STEELE. T. No. 223. THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 15, 1711 O suavis anima! qualem te dicam bonam PHÆDR. FAB. 3, i. 5. O sweet soul! how good must you have been heretofore, when your remains are so delicious! WHEN I reflect upon the various fate of those multitudes of ancient writers who flourished in Greece and Italy, I consider time as an immense ocean, in which many noble authors are entirely swallowed up, many very much shattered and damaged, some quite disjointed and broken into pieces, while some have wholly escaped the common wreck; but the number of the last is very small. " Apparent rari nantes in gurgite vasto." VIRG. AN. i. 122. "One here and there floats on the vast abyss." Among the mutilated poets of antiquity there is none whose fragments are so beautiful as those of Sappho. They give us a taste of her way of writing, which is perfectly conformable with that extraordinary character we find of her in the remarks of those great critics who were conversant with her works when they were entire. One may see by what is left of them, that she followed |
