life, which we thus prefent before thee in one promifcuous heap. We befeech thee that thou thy felf wilt fort them for the future, as in thy wisdom thou shalt think fit; for we acknowledge that there is none befide thee that can judge what will occafion grief or joy in the heart of a human creature, and what will prove a blefling or a calamity to the perfon on whom it is beftowed.'

TATLER, Vol. III. No. 147.

AGE.

་

Fall the impertinent wishes which we hear expreffed in conversation, there is not near exe unworthy a gentleman, or a man of liberal education, than that of wishing one's felf younger. It is a certain fign of a foolish or a diffolute mind, if we want our youth again, only for the ftrength of bones and finews which we were once masters of; it is as abfurd in an old man to wish for the ftrength of a youth, as it would be in a young man to wish for the ftrength of a bull or a horse. Those withes are

both equally out of nature, which fhould direct in all things that are not contradictory to justice, law, and reason,

Age in a virtuous perfon of either fex carries in it an authority, which makes it preferable to all the pleasures of youth; if to be confulted, faluted, and attended with deference, are inftances of pleasure, they are fuch as never fail a virtuous old age. In the enumeration of the imperfections and advantages of the younger and latter years of man, they are fo near in their condition, that methinks it fhould be incredible we fee fo little commerce of kindness between them. If we confider youth and age with Tully, regarding the affinity to death, youth has many more chances to be near it than age; what youth can fay more than an old man; He thall live till night? Youth catches diftempers more easily, its fickness is more violent, and its recovery more doubtful. The youth indeed hopes for many more days, so cannot the old man. The youth's hopes are ill-grounded; for what is more foolish than to place any confidence

upon

upon an uncertainty? But the old man has not room fo much as for hope, he is ftill happier than the youth, he has already enjoy'd what the other does but hope for; one wishes to live long, the other has lived long. But alas, is there any thing in human life, the duration of which can be called long? There is nothing which muft end, to be valued for its continuance. If hours, days, months and years pafs away, it is no matter what hour, what day, what month, or what year we die. The applause of a good actor is due' to him at whatever f fcene of the play he makes his Exit. it. It is thus in the life of a man of fenfe, a fhort life is fufficient to manifeft himself a man of honour and virtue', when he ceafes to be fuch, he has lived too long, and while he is fuch, it is of no confequence to him how long he fhall be fo, provided he is fo to his life's end.

TH

SPECTATOR, Vol. II. No. 153. T.

ོ།འ་

AGREEABLE

i

MAN.

HE defire of pleafing makes a man agreeable or unwelcome to thofe with whom he converfes, according to the motive from which that inclination appears to flow. If your concern for pleafing others arifes from innate benevolence, it never fails of fuecefs; if from a vanity to excel, its difappointment is no lefs certain. What we call an agreeable inan, is he who is endowed with that natural

ceptable things, from a delight bent to do ac

he takes in them meerly as fuch; and the affectation of that character is what conftitutes a fop. Under thefe leaders one

may draw up all thofe who make any manner of figure, except in dumb fhow. A rational and fele& converfation is compofed of perfons who have the talent of pleafing with delicacy of fentiments, flowing from habitual chastity of thought. Now and then you meet with a man fo exactly formed for pleafing, that will make him gain upon every body who hears or beholds him. This felicity is not the gift of nature only, but must be attended with happy circumftances, which add a dignity to the familiar beVOL. I. C

haviour

haviour which, diftinguishes him whom we call the agreeable, man. It is from this that every body loves and efteems Polycarpus. He is in the vigour of his age and the gaiety of his life, but has paffed through very confpicuous fcenes in it; though, o foldier, he has fhared the danger, and acted with great gallantry and generofity in a decifive day of battle. To have thofe qualities which only make other men confpicuous in the world, as it were fupernumerary in him, is a circumftance which gives weight to his moft indifferent actions; for as a known credit is ready calh to a trader, fo is acknowledged merit immediate dif tinction, and ferves in the place of equipage to a gentleman. This renders Polycarpus graceful in mirth, important in bufinefs, and regarded with love in every ordinary occurrence.

TH

SPECTATOR, Vol. IV. No. 280. T.

AGREEABLE in Company.

AM

1

HE true art of being agreeable in company (but there an be no fuch thing as true art in it) is to appear well pleafed with thofe you are engaged with, and rather to feem well entertained than to bring entertainment to others. A man thus difpofed, is not what we ordinarily call a good companion, but effentially is fuch, and in all parts of his converfation has fomething friendly in his behaviour, which conciliates mens minds, more than behaviour, highest fallies of wit or tarts of humour can poffibly do. The feebleness of age a man is turn, fomething which fhould be treated with refpect even in a man no otherwife venerable. of youth, when it proceeds from infolence, has alfo its allowances. who is formed for fuch by nature, character in life its due regard, and is ready to account for their imperfections, and receive their accomplishments as if they were his own. It muft appear

in a

this

has

The forwardness alacrity, and not The companion gives to every

that you receive law from, and not give it to your pany, to make you agreeable.

SPECTATOR, Vol. V. No. 386. T.

A

ALLEGORIES.

A

LLEGORIES, when well chofen, are like fo many tracks of light in a discourse, that makes every thing about them feem clear and beautiful. noble metaphor, when it is placed to advantage, cafts a glory round it, and darts a luftre through a whole fentence. These different kinds of allufions are but fo many different manners of fimilitude, and that they may please the imagination, the likenefs ought to be very exact, or very agreeable, as we love to fee a picture where the refemblance is juft, or the figure and air graceful; but we find eminent writers very faulty in this refpect. Great scholars are apt to fetch comparisons and allufions from the fciences in which they are moft converfant, fo that a man may fee the compafs of their learning in a treatise on the moft indifferent fubject. I have read a difcourfe upon love, which none but a profound chemift could underftand; on the contrary, your men of business ufually have recourfe to fuch inftances as are too mean and familiar. They are for drawing the reader into a game of chefs or tennis, or for leading him from fhop to fhop in the cant of particular trades and employments. It is certain there may be found an infinite variety of very agreeable allufions in both these kinds, but for the generality, the most entertaining ones lie in the works of nature, which are obvious to all capacities, and more delightful than what is to be found in arts and sciences.

They fet off all writings in general, and are the very life and highest perfection of poetry, where it fhines in an eminent degree; it has preferved feveral perfons of feveral ages, that have nothing elfe to recommend them, and where all the other beauties are prefent, the work appears dry and infipid if this fingle one be wanting. It has fomething in it like creation; it beftows a kind of existence, and draws up to the reader's view feveral objects which are not to be found in Being. It makes additions in nature, and gives a greater variety to God's works.

C 2

works. In a word, it is able to beautify and adorn the moft illustrious scenes in the universe, or to fill the mind with more glorious fhews and apparitions than can be found in any part of it.

SPECTATOR, Vol. VI. No.

421. O.

An allegory is like the health we get by hunting, as we are engag'd in an agreeable purfuit that draws us on with pleasure, and makes us infenfible of the fatigues that accompany it. TATLER, Vol. III. No. 147.

As fome of the fineft compofitions among the ancients are in allegory, I have endeavoured in feveral of my papers to revive that way of writing, and hope I have not been unfuccessful in it; for I find there is always a great demand for thofe particular papers, and cannot but observe that several authors have endeavoured of late to excel in works of this nature. Among these I do not know one who has fucceeded better than a very ingenious gentleman, to whom I · am obliged for the following piece.

How are we tortured with the absence of what we covet to poffefs, when it appears to be loft to us! What excurfions does the foul make in imagination after it! And how does it turn into itself again more foolishly, fond, and dejected at the disappointment? Our grief, inftead of having recourfe to reafon, which might reftrain it, searches to find a further nourishment; it calls upon memory to relate the feveral paffages and circunftances of fatisfactions which we formerly enjoyed, the pleasures we purchafed by those riches that are taken from us, or the power and splendor of our departed honours; or the voice, the words, the looks, the temper and affections of our friends that are deceased. It needs muft happen from hence, that the paffion should often fwell to fuch a fize as fhould burft the heart which contains it, if time did not. make these circumftances lefs ftrong and lively; fo that reason fhould become a more equal match for the paffions, or if another defire which becomes more prefent, did not overpower them with a livelier reprefentation. Those are thoughts which I had, when I fell into a kind of vifion upon this fubject,

and