intended as a joke by the exemplary Divine, speaks volumes as to the character of the dissolute age of the Restoration.

HAVING thus discovered the mighty Proteus, which puts on so many various shapes, in various places, and on various occasions, he proposes to define it. The wit of discourse is, he informs his friend, the greatest art about the smallest things; for, to confess a secret, as Sir William Davenant's way differs very little from *Frank Bowman's, and yet one is the gayest, and the other the most insipid; so the true pleasant talk and the vainest tattle are not very different. The subjects of both are a thousand little trifles, and the difference lies only in the management. This wit, therefore, is made up of many inexpressible excellences, it must have a general evenness of humour, it must perfectly observe all the rules of decency, to know when enough is said; to forbear biting things, not to be touched, and to abstain from abusing honest and virtuous matters. It must apply itself to the condition and inclination of the company, and rather follow than lead; it must not always strain to speak extraordinary things, for that is a constant dancing on the ropes, in which, though a man does often well, he may have one fall that may break his neck. It must allow every one their turn in speaking, for it is natural to all to love better the company of those which gives them occa

*Perhaps the Mr. Bowman mentioned by Pepys (April 20, 1661), through whose favour he gained admittance to the Cockpit Theatre, and saw the King, and the Duke and Duchess of York.

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sions of speaking well, than those that do it themselves; it must mingle stories with arguments, pleasant things with solemn; it must vary the subject and not pump itself dry at once. He then quotes Cowley in some verses which Wren had not seen, to show that the latter is a wise quality. The verses quoted, say—

So the imperial eagle does not stay,

Till the whole carcase he devour
That's fallen into his power;

As if his generous hunger understood,
That it can never want supply of food,
He only sucks the tasteful blood,

And to fresh game flies cheerfully away,

To kites and meaner birds he leaves the mangled prey.

To this poetical illustration of the preceding axiom, Sprat goes on to argue, that this generous eagle-wit uses the best and easiest words, is not the first to take up new ones, nor the last to lay down old ones. But, above all, its chief dominion is in forming new significations and images of things and persons. This, he conceives, may be so suddenly practised, that he has known, in one afternoon, new stamps and proverbs, and fashions of speech raised, which were never thought of before, and yet gave occasion to most delightful imaginations. He next draws Wren's attention to the extent and difficulty of this art, and confesses that it is seldom to be found among men of large and full and high thoughts, because such minds overlook the little passages, and fly presently to general axioms, which, it may be, are most useful, yet they do not affect our thoughts with such an immediate and familiar delight.

BUT the learned and metaphysical Divine, hints to his friend the mathematical and experimental Philosopher, that to speak truth, the perfection of this glorious faculty, without which life were no life, belongs not so much to men as to the softer sex; for they have usually their heads less disturbed with busy thoughts, their minds are quicker and readier for new impressions, they talk more of circumstantial things, they sit longer together, and, which Wren used to say was of great consequence in our northern and phlegmatic climate, they keep their feet warmer and drier, and go less into the moist and open air. That women are the best speakers, he offers Wren two undeniable instances, one in his Laura, as he thinks his friend calls her, and the other, the nymph who was once his Clelia. "The one," says the deserted Doctor, "speaks with a great freedom and spirit, and with an abundance of sweet words; the other talks less, but with as much sweetness and nature from the one, nothing can be taken away, to the other nothing ought to be added."

BUT the Doctor dared not proceed in this description, through remembrance of an old story; that while a painter was drawing from a most beautiful lady, he fell desperately in love with her, and it had cost him his life, had not Alexander bestowed her on him. The first part of this tale, the reverend Divine felt sure would be his fortune, if he should longer employ his thoughts on such a lovely object; and he was as certain that he should perish long enough before he should find an Alexander to pity him! It is a question

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APELLES AND DR. SPRAT.

165

worthy the attention of the oracular Editors of " Notes and Queries," whether this is not a parable wherein the Doctor depicts himself as the modern Apelles, imbibing draughts of love from Clelia-Campaspe's eyes, and the congé d'elire-bestowing Monarch of the Restoration, who had no pity for the dying lover of his beauteous concubine? The subsequent Lord Bishop of Rochester's apology, might be "Homo sum," but the quotation is too trite to need completion.

To return, however, to Sprat's definition or description of this fugitive, evaporative, spiritual essence of the human mind. WIT, he considers, consists in a right ordering of things and words for delight; but fearing to bore his friend, he drops the argument, and sends him news of the state of society.

THE following passage shows in a lively manner the occupation of the men about town, in the rampant time of the beginning of the Restoration. He tells Wren, "now I look about me, what need have I to go any farther? seeing the age wherein we live runs already so mad after the affairs of wit. All the world are at present Poets; the poetical bees are all at work, comedies, tragedies, verses, satires, burlesques; songs buzz every where about our ears; and, to ease my hand a little by changing my pace

Wits we have now as many, if not more,
As we had sects or preachers heretofore;
And Heaven, in mercy grant, this crying sin,
Don't the same judgments once more usher in.
We have our northern wit, wits of the east,
Wits of the south, and witlings of the west;

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South and by west, south east, east and by north,
From every point, like winds, they bluster forth.
We have our wits that write only to sway
At York, or Hull, or ten miles thence each way.
Each corporation, sea-port, borough, town,

Has those that will this glorious title own.

Like Egypt's frogs they swarm, and like them too,
Into the chambers of our Kings they go.

SPRAT seems to have no better opinion of the witlings of the west," than Dr. Johnson, who, on being asked by Sir Joshua Reynolds at the club on his return from Devonshire, how he liked his countrymen, the Plymptonians? replied, "to say the truth, Sir Joshua, the farther I went west, the more I felt convinced, that the wise men came originally from the east."

"WHAT is to be done with this furious generation of wits and writers ?" asks the Reverend Doctor of his philosophic friend. "To advise them to leave off is vain

Too strong the infection is

To be destroyed by such quick remedies.
No, no, it is a sweet and flattering kind
Of poison, and deceives the clearest mind :
Cowley himself, Cowley, whom I adore,
Often resolved, nay, and I think he swore,
That he no more those barren lands would plough,
Where flowery weeds instead of corn do grow.
Perchance, as Jesuits' Powder does, each vow

Kept the fit off from him, three weeks or so,
But yet, at last, his vows were all in vain,
This writing ague still returns again.”

MR. D'ISRAELI, in discussing the distinction between the poetical and the mathematical genius, opposes the