fhe heard a moufe within the wainfcot, and was fure
that I fhould fuffer her to be carried away alive.
After this I was for fome time out of favour, but as
her illnefs grew upon her, refentment and fullennefs
gave way to kinder fentiments. She died, and left
me five hundred pounds; with this fortune I am
going to fettle in my native parifh, where I refolve
to fpend fome hours every day in teaching poor girls
to read and write.
1 am, SIR,
Your humble Servant.
BETTY BROOM.
TH E I D L E R. 117
NUMB. 30. SATURDAY, November u, 1758.
f I ^ H E defires of man encreafe with his acquifi-
-L. tions ; every flep which he advances brings
fomething within his view, which he did not fee be-
fore, and which, as foon as he fees it, he begins to
want. Where neceffity ends, curiofity begins ; and
no fooner are we fupplied with every thing that na-
ture can demand, than we fit down to contrive arti-
ficial appetites.
By this reftleflhefs of mind, every populous and
wealthy city is filled with innumerable employments,
for which the greater part of mankind is without a
name; with artificers, whofe labour is exerted in
producing fuch petty conveniences, that many fhops
are furnifhed with inftruments, of which the ufe can
hardly be found without enquiry, but which he that
once knows them quickly learns to number among
neceflary things.
Such is the diligence with which, in countries
completely civilized, one part of mankind labours
for another, that wants are fupplied fafter than they
can be formed, and the idle and luxurious find life
flagnate for want of fomedefire to keep it in motion.
This fpecies of diftrefs furnifhes a new fet of occu-
pations; and multitudes are bufied, from day to
day, in finding the rich and the fortunate fomething
to do.
1 3 It
THE IDLER. N 50*
Tt is very common to reproach thofe artifts as ule-
lefs, who produce only fuch fuperfluitics as neither
accommodate the body, nor improve the mind ; and
of which no other effect can be imagined, than that
they are the occafions of fpending money, and con-
fuming time.
But this cenfure will be mitigated, when it is
ferioufiy confidered, that money and time are the
heavieft burthens of life, and that the unhappieft of
all mortals are thofe who have more of either than
they know how to ufe. To fet himfclf free from
thefe incumbrances, one hurries to Newmarket; an-
other travels over Europe \ one pulls down his houfe
and calls architects about him ; another buys a feat
in the country, and follows his hounds over hedges
and through rivers ; one makes collections of ihells;
and another fearches the world for tulips and carna-
tions.
He is furely a publick benefactor who finds em-
ployment for thofe to whom it is thus difficult to
find it for themfelves. It is true, that this is feldom
done merely from generality or compaffion ; almoft
every man feeks his own advantage in helping others,
and therefore it is too common for mercenary offici-
oufnefs to confider rather what is grateful, than what
is right.
We all know that it is more profitable to be
loved than efteemed ; and minifters of pleafure will
always be found, who ftudy to make themfelves ne-
ceffary, and to fupplant thofe who are practifing the
fame arts.
One of the amufements of idlenefs is reading with-
out the fatigue of clofe attention, and the world
therefore
N 30. THE IDLER. 119
therefore fwarms with writers whofe wilh is not to be
itudied, but to be read.
No fpecies of literary men has lately been fo much
multiplied as the writers of news. Not many
years ago the nation was content with one gazette ;
but now we have not only in the metropolis pa-
pers for every morning and every evening, but al-
moft every large town has its weekly hiftorian, who
regularly circulates his periodical intelligence, and
fills the villages of his diftrict with conjectures on
the events of war, and with debates on the true in-
tereft of Europe.
To write news in its perfection requires fuch a
combination of qualities, that a man completely
fitted for the ta& is not always to be found. In Sir
Henry Wotton's jocular definition, An ajnba/fador is
faid to be a man of virtue fent abroad to tell lies for the
advantage of his country ; a news-writer is a man with-
out virtue, who writes lies at home for his own profit.
To thefe compofitions is required neither genius nor
knowledge, neither induftry nor fprightlinefs : but
contempt of {hame and indifference to truth are ab-
folutely neceflary. He who by a long familiarity
with infamy has obtained thefe qualities, may con-
fidently tell to-day what he intends to contradict to-
morrow; he may affirm fearlefsly what he knows
that he lhall be obliged to recant, and may write
letters from Aiijhrdam or Drefden to himfelf.
In a time of war the nation is always of one mind,
eager to hear fomething good of themfelves and ill
of the enemy. At this time the taik of news-
writers is eafy : the)' have nothing to do but to tell
that a battle is expected, and afterwards that a battle
I 4 has
izo THE IDLER. N 30.
has been fought, in which we and our friends, whe-
ther conquering or conquered, did all, and our ene-
mies did nothing.
Scarcely any thing awakens attention like a tale of
cruelty. The writer of news never fails in the in-
termiflion of action to tell how the enemies murdered
children and ravifhed virgins; and, if the fcene of
action be fomewhat diftant, fcalps half the inhabit-
ants of a province.
Among the calamities of war may be juftly num-
bered the diminution of the love of truth, by the
falfehoods which intereft dictates, and credulity en-
courages. A peace will equally leave the warrior
and relator of wars deftitute of employment; and I
know not whether more is to be dreaded from ftreets
filled with foldiers accuftomed to plunder, or from
garrets filled with fcribblers accuflomed to lie.
NUMB.
T H E I D L E R. 121
NUMB. 31. SATURDAY, November 18, 1758.
MANY moralifts have remarked, that pride
has of all human vices the wideft dominion,
appears in the greateft multiplicity of forms, and lies
hid under the greateft variety of difguifes , of dif-
guifes, which, like the moon's veil of brightnefs, are
both its lujlre and its Jhade, and betray it to others,
though they hide it from ourfelves.
It is not my intention to degrade pride from this
pre-eminence of mifchief ; yet I know not whether
idlenefs may not maintain a very doubtful and ob-
ftinate competition.
There are fome that profefs idlenefs in its full
dignity, who call themfelves the Idle, as Bujiris in
the play calls himfelf the Proud ; who boaft that they
do nothing, and thank their ftars that they have
nothing to do ; who fleep every night till they can
ileep no longer, and rife only that exercife may en-
able them to ileep again ; who prolong the reign of
darknefs by double curtains, and never fee the fun
but to tell him how they hate his beams ; whofe whole
labour is to vary the pofture of indulgence, and
whofe day differs from their night but as a couch or
chair differs from a bed.
Thefe are the true and open votaries of idlenefs,
for whom ftie weaves the garlands of poppies, and
into whofe cup {he pours the waters of oblivion ;
who exift in a Hate of unruffled flupidity, forgetting
and
122 T H E I D L E Pi. N *r.
J
and forgotten ; who have long ceafed to live, and
at whofe death the furvivors can only fay, that they
have ceafed to breathe.
But idlenefs predominates in many lives where it
is not fufpecled ; for, being a vice which termi-
nates in itfelf, it may be enjoyed without injury to
others; and it is therefore not watched like fraud,
which endangers property ; or like pride, which
naturally feeks its gratifications in another's infe-
riority. Idlenefs is a filent and peaceful quality, that
neither raifes envy by orientation, nor hatred by op-
pofition ; and therefore nobody is bufy to cenfure or
detect it.
As pride fametimes is hid under humility, idle-
nels is often covered by turbulence and hurry. He
that negleds his known duty and real employment,
naturally endeavours to crowd his mind with fome-
thing that may bar out the remembrance of his own
lolly, and does any thing but what he ought to do
with eager diligence, that he may keep himfelf in
his own favour.
Some are always in a flate of preparation, occu-
pied in previous meafures, forming plans, accumu-
lating materials, and providing for the main affair.
Thefe are certainly under the fecret power of idle*
nefs. Nothing is to be expe&ed from the workman
whofe tools are for ever to be fought. 1 was once
told by a great mailer, that no man ever excelled in
painting, who was eminently curious about pencils
and colours.
There are others to whom idlenefs dilates another
expedient, by which life may be paffcd unprofitably
away without the tediouibds of many vacant hours.
The
N'3*' THE IDLER. 123
The art is, to fill the day with petty bufinefs, to have
always fomething in hand which may raife curiofity,
but not folicitude, and keep the mind in a flate of
aftion, but not of labour.
This art has for many years been praftifed by my
old friend Sober with wonderful luccefs. Sober is a man
of flrong defires and quick imagination, fo exactly
balanced by the love of eafe, that they can feldom
ilimulate him to any difficult undertaking; they
have, however, fo much power, that they will not
fuffer him to lie quite at reft; and though they do not
make him fufftciently ufeful to others, they make him
at leaft weary of himfelf.
Mr. Sober's chief pleafure is converfation ; there
is no end of his talk or his attention ; to fpeak or
to hear is equally pleafing ; for he ftill fancies that
he is teaching or learning fomething, and is free for
the time from his own reproaches.
But there is one time at night when he muft go
home, that his friends may ileep ; and another time
in the morning, when all the world agrees to flmt
out interruption. Thefe are the moments of which
poor Sober trembles at the thought. Bat the mifery
of thefe tirefome intervals he has many means of
alleviating. He has perfuaded himfelf, that the
manual arts are undefervedly overlooked ; he has ob-
ferved in many trades the effects of clofe thought,
and juft ratiocination. From fpeculation he pro-
ceeded to practice, and fupplied himfelf with the
tools of a carpenter, with which he mended his coal-
box very fuccefsfully, and which he ftill continues
to employ, as he finds occafion.
He
124 T H E I D L E R. N" 31.
He has attempted at other times the crafts of the
ihoemaker, tinman, plumber, and potter ; in all
thefe arts he has failed, and refolves to qualify him-
ielf for them by better information. But his daily
amufement is chemiftry. He has a fmall furnace,
which he employs in diftillation, and which has long
been the folace of his life. He draws oils and wa-
ters, and effences and fpirits, which he knows to be
of no ufe; fits and counts the drops as they come
from his retort, and forgets that, vvhilft a drop is fall-
ing, a moment flies away.
Poor Sober! I have often teazed him with reproof,
and he has often promifed reformation ; for no man
is ibmuch open to conviction as the Idler, but there
is none on whom it operates fo little. What will be
the effect of this paper I know not; perhaps he will
read it and laugh, and light the fire in his furnace ;
but my hope is, that he will quit his trifles, and be-
take himfelf to rational and ufeful diligence.
NUMB.
N 32. T H E I D L E K. 125
NUMB. 32. SATURDAY, November 25, 1758.
AMONG the innumerable mortifications that
way-lay human arrogance on every fide, may
well be reckoned our ignorance of the mod com-
mon objects and effects, a defect of which we become
more fenfible by every attempt to fupply it. Vul-
gar and inactive minds confound familiarity with
knowledge, and conceive themfelves informed of the
whole nature of things when they are fliewn their
form or told their ufe ; but the fpeculatift, who is
not content with fuperficial views, haraffes himfelf
with fruitlefs curiofity, and ftill as he enquires more,
perceives only that he knows lefs.
Sleep is a ftate in which a great part of every life
is pafled. No animal has been yet difcovered, whofe
exiftence is not varied with intervals of infenfibility ;
and fome late philofophers have extended the empire
of fleep over the vegetable world.
Yet of this change, fo frequent, fo great, fo gene-
ral, and fo necefTary, no fearcher has yet found either
the efficient or final caufe ; or can tell by what power
the mind and body are thus chained down in irre-
iiftible flupefaftion ; or what benefits the animal
receives from this alternate fufpenfion of its active
powers.
Whatever may be the multiplicity or contrariety
of opinions upon this fubjedt, nature has takeij fuf-
ficient care that theory fliall have little influence on
practice. The moft diligent enquirer is not able
long
T H E I D L E R. N J2 .
long to keep his eyes open ; the mod eager difputant
will begin about midnight to defert his argument ;
and, once in four-and-twenty hours, the gay and the
gloomy, the witty and the dull, the clamorous and
the filent, the bufy and the idle, are all overpowered
by the gentle tyrant, and all lie down in the equality
of fleep.
Philofophy has often attempted to reprefs info-
lence, by aflerting, that all conditions are levelled
by death ; a pofition which, however it may dejedt
the happy, will feldom afford much comfort to the
wretched. It is far more pleafmg to confider, that
ileep is equally a leveller with death ; that the time
is never at a great diftance, when the balm of reft
fhall be diffufed alike upon every head, when the dt-
verfities of life fhall flop their operation, and the
high and the low fhall lie down together.
It is fomewhere recorded of Alexander, that in the
pride of conquefls, and intoxication of flattery, he
declared that he only perceived himielf to be a man
by the neceffity of fleep. Whether he confidered
ileep as neceflary to his mind or body, it was indeed
a fufficient evidence of human infirmity ; the body
-which required fuch frequency of renovation, gave
but faint promifes of immortality ; and the mind
which, from time to time, funk gladly into infenfi-
bility, had made no very near approaches to the fe-
licity of the fupreme and felf-fufficient nature.
I know not what can tend more to reprefs all the
paffions that difturb the peace of the world, than the
confideration that there is no height of happinefs or
honour from which man does not esgerly defcend
'to a ftate of unconfcious repofe ; that the belt con-
dition
NO 32. THE IDLER. 127
dition of life is fuch, that we contentedly quit its
good to be difentangled from its evils ; that in a
few hours fplendor fades before the eye, and praife
itfelf deadens in the ear , the fenfes withdraw from
their objects, and reafon favours the retreat.
What then are the hopes and profpects of covet*
oufnefs, ambition, and rapacity ? Let him that de-
lires moft have all his defires gratified, he never fhaU
attain a ftate which he can, for a day and a nighr,
contemplate with fatisfaction, or from which, if he
had the power of perpetual vigilance, he would not
long for periodical feparations.
All envy would be extinguifhed, if it were uni-
verfally known that there are none to be envied, and
furely none can be much envied who are not pleafed
with themfelves. There is reafon to fufped:, that
the distinctions of mankind have more (hew than
value, when it is found that all agree to be weary
alike of pleafures and of cares ; that the powerful
and the weak, the celebrated and obfcure, join in
one common wilh, and implore from nature's hand
the nectar of oblivion.
Such is our defire of abftraction from ourfelves,
that very few are fatisfied with the quantity of flu*
pefaction which the needs of the body force upon,
the mind. Alexander hknfelf added intemperance
to fleep, and folaced with the furnes of wine the fo-
vereignty of the world; and almoft every man has
fome art by which he Heals his thoughts away from
his prefent ftate.
It is not much of life that is fpent in clofe atten-
tion to any important duty. Many hours of every
day are fuffered to fly away without any traces left
z upon
i 2 8 T H E I D L E R. N^z.
upon the intellects. We fuffer phantoms to rife up
before us, and amufe ourfelves with the dance of
airy images, which, after a time, we difmifs for ever,
and know not how we have been bufied.
Many have no happier moments than thofc that
they pafs in folitude, abandoned to their own imagi-
nation, which fometimes put fceptres in their hands
or mitres on their heads, fhifts the fcene of pleafure
with endlefs variety, bids all the forms of beauty
fparkle before them, and gluts them with every
change of vifionary luxury.
It is eafy in thefe femi-flnmbers to collect all the
poffibilities of happinefs, to alter the courfe of the
fun, to bring back the paft, and anticipate the future,
to unite all the beauties of all feafons, and all the
bleffings of all climates, to receive and beftow feli-
city, and forget that mifery is the lot of man. All
this is a voluntary dream, a temporary receffion from
the realities of life to airy fictions ; and habitual fub-
jection of reafon to fancy.
Others are afraid to be alone, and amufe them-
felves by a perpetual fucceffion of companions : but
the difference is not great ; in folitude we have our
dreams to ourfelves, and in company we agree to
dream in concert. The end fought in both is for-
getfulnefs of ourfelves.
NUMB*
T H E I D L E R.
129
NUMB. 33. SATURDAY, December 2, 1758.
[I hope the author of the following letter will ex-
cufe the omiffion of fome parts, and allow me to
remark, that the Journal of the Citizen in the
Spectator has almoft precluded the attempt of any
future writer.]
Non it a Romuli
Pr<zfcr:ptum, & intonfi Catonis
vettrutxque nor mi* HOR.
SIR,
YOU have often folicited correfpondence. I
have fent you the Journal of a Senior Fellow,
or Genuine Idler, jufl tranfmitted from Cambridge by
a facetious correfpondent, and warranted to have
been tranfcribed from the common-place book of
the jonrnalift.
Monday, Nine o'clock. Turned off my bed -maker
for waking me at eight. Weather rainy. Con-
fulted my weather-glafs. No hopes of a ride be-
fore dinner.
Ditto, 'Ten. After breakfaft, tranfcribed half a
fermon from Dr. Hickman. N. JB. Never to tran-
fcribe any more from Calamy; Mrs. Pilcocks, at my
curacy, having one volume of that author lying in
her parlour-window.
VOL. VII. K Ditto,
130 T H E I D L E R. N ^.
Ditto, Eleven. Went down into my cellar. Mem*
My Mountain will be fit to drink in a month's time.
N. B. To remove the five-year-old port into the
new bin on the left hand.
Ditto, Twelve. Mended a pen. Looked at my
vvcather-glafs again. Quickfilver very low. Shaved.
Barber's hand lhakes.
Ditto, One. Dined alone in my room on a foal.
JV. B. The fhrimp-fauce not fo good as Mr. H. of
Peterboufe and I ufed to eat in London laft winter
at the Mitre in Fleet-ftreet. Sat down to a pint of
Madeira. Mr. H. furprifed me over it. We fmimed
two bottles of port together, and were very cheerful.
Mem. To dine with Mr. H. at Peterhoufe next Wed-
nefday. One of the diihes a leg of pork and peafe,
by my defire.
Ditto, Six. Newfpaper in the common-room.
Ditto, Seven. Returned to my room. Made a
tiff of warm punch, and to bed before nine ; did
not fall afleep till ten, a young fellow-commoner
being very noify over my head.
Tuefday, Nine. Rofe fqueamifh. A fine morn-
ing. Weather-glafs very high.
Ditto, Ten. Ordered my horfe, and rode to the
five-mile ftone on the Newmarket road. Appetite
gets better. A pack of hounds, in full cry, crofled
the road, and flartled my horfe.
Ditto, Twelve. Dreft. Found a letter on my table
to be in London the i9th inft. Befpoke a new wig.
Ditto, One. At dinner in the hall. Too much
water in the foup. Dr. Dry always orders the beef
to be faked too much for me.
Ditto,
N33- THE IDLER;
Ditto, Two. In the common-room* Dr. Dry
gave us an inftance of a gentleman who kept the
gout out of his ftomach by drinking old Madeira.
Converfation chiefly on the expeditions. Company-
broke up at four. Dr. Dry and myfelf played at
back-gammon for a brace of fnipes. Won.
Ditto, Five. At the coffee-houfe. Met Mr. H*
there. Could not get a fight of the Monitor*
Ditto, Seven* Returned home, and ftirred my fire.
Went to the common-room, and fupped on the fnipes
with Dr. Dry.
Ditto, Eight. Began the evening in the common-
room. Dr. Dry told feveral ftories. Were very
merry. Our new fellow, that fludies phyfick, very
talkative toward twelve. Pretends he will bring the
youngeft Mifs to drink tea with me foon. Im-
pertinent blockhead !
Wednefday, Nine. Alarmed with a pain in my
ancle. ^. The gout? Fear I can't dine at Peter-
houfe; but I hope a ride will fet all to rights. Wea-
ther-glafs below FAIR.
Ditto, 'Ten. Mounted my horfe, though the wea-
ther fufpicious. Pain in my ancle entirely gone,
Catched in a ihower coming back. Convinced that
my weather-glafs is the beft in Cambridge.
Ditto, Twelve. Dreft. Sauntered up to the Fift>~
-monger* s-hill. Met Mr. H. and went with him to
Peterhoufe. Cook made us wait thirty-fix minutes
beyond the time- The company, fome of my Ema-
nuel friends. For dinner, a pair of foals, a leg of
pork and peafe, among other things. Mem. Peafe-
pudding not boiled enough. Cook reprimanded and
fconced in my preience.
K 2 Ditto,
i 3 2 T H E I D L E R. N e 33.
Ditto, after dinner. Pain in my ancle returns.
Dull all the afternoon. Raillied for being no com-
pany. Mr. H.'s account of the accomodations on
the road in his Bath journey.
Ditto, Six. Got into fpirits. Never was more
chatty. We fat late at whift. Mr. H. and felf
agreed at parting to take a gentle ride, and dine at
the old houfe on the London road to-morrow.
Tburfday, Nine. My fempftrefs. She has loft the
meafure of my wrift. Forced to be meafured again.
The baggage has got a trick of fmiling.
Ditto, Ten to Eleven. Made fome rappee-muff.
Read the magazines. Received a prefent of pickles
from Mifs Pilcocks. Mem. To fend in return fome
collared eel, which I know both the old lady and
mifs are fond of.
Ditto, Eleven. Glafs very high. Mounted at the
gate with Mr. H, Horie fkittifh, and wants exer-
cife. Arrive at the old houfe. All the provifions
befpoke by fome rakifh fellow commoner in the next
room, who had been on a fcheme to Newmarket.
Could get nothing but mutton-chops off the woril
end. Port very new. Agree to try fome other
houfe to-morrow.
HERE the Journal breaks off: for the next morn-
ing, as my friend informs me, our genial academick
was waked with a fevere fit of the gout; and, at
prefent, enjoys all the dignity of that difeafe. But
I believe we have loft nothing by this interruption :
fince a continuation of the remainder of the Jour-
nal, through the remainder of the week, would moll
probably have exhibited nothing more than a re-
p sated
N33- T H E I D L E R. 133
peated relation of the fame circumftances of idling
and luxury.
I hope it will not be concluded, from this fpcci-
men of academick life, that I have attempted to
decry our univerfities. If literature is not the ef-
fential requiiite of the modern academick, I am yet
perfuaded, that Cambridge and Oxford, however de-
generated, furpafs the fafhionable academies of our
metropolis, and the gymnafia of foreign countries.
The number of learned perfons in thefe celebrated
feats is ftill considerable, and more conveniences
and opportunities for ftudy flill fubfift in them, than
in any other place. There is at lead one very power-
ful incentive to learning; 1 mean the GENIUS of the
place. It is a fort of infpiring deity, which 'every
youth of quick fenfibility and ingenuous difpofition
creates to himfelf, by reflecting, that he is placed
under thofe venerable walls, where a HOOKER and a
HAMMOND, a BACON and a NEWTON, once purfued
the fame courfe of fcience, and from whence they
foared to the moft elevated heights of literary fame.
This is that incitement which Tu/fy, according to his
own teftimony, experienced at Athens, when he con-
templated the porticos where Socrates fat, and the
laurel-groves where Plato difputed. But there are
other circumftances, and of the higheft importance,
which render our colleges fuperior to all other places
of education. Their intlitutions, although fomewhat